Chapter 1: August - September, part I
Chapter Text
Sirius is not a stranger to waking up to a hundred notifications on his phone, but this is something else. Firstly, it’s a Thursday well over a week after his final tour date. Secondly, he has turned off notifications on every social media platform from everyone else but Marlene and his closest friends, and not many other people even have his personal phone number. Thirdly, it’s seven PM, and Sirius rarely takes a nap, and even more rarely wakes up from one to his phone buzzing in his hand.
Before he looks at his phone his only thought is that he really shouldn’t have napped, as now he won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight.
After he looks at his phone his only thought is “what the hell is going on”.
From: Gideon Prewett: I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t mention you, I was very careful about that
From: Gideon Prewett: It seems like it’s just a lot of assumptions and gossip and putting things together
From: Gideon Prewett: No one really seems to have anything to back it up yet
It goes on for a few more text, repeating that he’s sorry, but not clarifying any more on what he’s so sorry about. Sirius is too scared to look at any of the social media mentions yet, so he backs out of the conversation and taps on James’ name next, then Lily’s, both very supportive but not any clearer on what this is all about.
From: Prongs: Are you okay?
From: Prongs: I read the article, it’s all very neat, he doesn’t say it’s you
From: Prongs: Though I have to say he doesn’t leave that many options on who else it could be
From: Prongs: I’m here if you want to call but please at least text me so I know you’re alive
From: Lily: If someone did this on purpose I have ways to inflict pain
From: Lily: In case you need an escape, I know my boys would love to see you
From: Lily: I wouldn’t hate it either
Sirius has learned a long time ago not to google his own name. That’s like, Celebrity 101. Nothing good has ever come out of googling himself, and he hesitates even now, even though he knows he has to do it eventually.
The thing he truly doesn’t understand is what Gideon has to do with anything. Sure, they’re friendly, but Sirius hasn’t even so much as thought about him for months at this point. It’s not like their paths cross that much anymore, not since the tour started, not since Gideon found a permanent home from Los Angeles, pretty much as far away from London as physically possible for an actor.
There was a time, a few years ago, when Sirius checked his social media constantly, worrying about his name being connected to Gideon’s too much. A time when he couldn’t risk being too close, and yet wanted to be close all the same. But that time has come and gone, it’s over, it’s done, and they’re both better for it, Sirius thinks. That’s what they both said, back when they called it off over a year ago now, and even just six months ago when Gideon came to see him on the opening night of his tour. They’re fine, they’re good, they’re friends, and Sirius has said that before but this time he really, truly feels it.
So then what is going on now?
Yes, Sirius has learned not to google his own name, but he does it anyway. It’s the quickest way to figure out the big picture, he thinks. He types out his name, then hesitates a little and adds Gideon’s, too, before looking at the search results. It’s not what he was expecting, but it’s exactly what he has been afraid of for years now.
Is Sirius Black Gay? Here’s What We Know
Fans Dig Up Old Posts to Prove Prewett and Black’s Love Affair
Gideon Prewett Comes Out in an Interview – Fans Demand Black to Speak Up
Is Gideon Prewett Talking About Sirius Black in Recent Interview?
Watch Video: Full Interview with Gideon Prewett with Fan Commentary
Who Is Gideon Prewett’s Secret Love? Check Out Our List of Possible Baes
Sirius feels dizzy just looking at the headlines. His hands are clammy where he grips his phone, knuckles white, fingers numb. He has to look away. How is this happening? What has Gideon said that has made people so sure… He doesn’t want to open any of the links suggested for him, he wants to go right to the source. Thankfully, his publicist has already provided.
From: Marlene: Don’t read anything else, this is the original: [link]
Sirius opens the link. He skims the first half of the interview, where it just lists Gideon’s latest accomplishments and awards and the new TV series he has been renewed for a second season. Sirius has been somewhat aware of all of that already, this isn’t about that. It can’t be.
He stops skimming around the halfway mark and starts reading after a tasteful if a bit boring casual snapshot of Gideon holding a cup of coffee.
“As a bisexual man, getting to play a character who represents me in so many ways is always incredible”, says Prewett, a soft dusting of a blush the only indication he has just come out publicly for the first time. “I have encouraged the writers of the show to give Finn’s character his moment, a chance to let his true self shine. We’ll see how the new season goes.”
When asked about his sexuality, Prewett has previously been very tight lipped, claiming he doesn’t date much anyway. Now, however, it seems like those claims haven’t been entirely truthful.
“I wasn’t ready to come out”, he explains with a shrug. “The world has little respect for LGBTQ+ people, and even though things are getting better, that is not the case everywhere. And even within the more accepting parts of media, biphobia is very much still a thing.”
“For a while, I was involved with someone, and I thought about coming out, because it was getting a bit difficult to keep it all a secret. But he was not ready, either, and he had, and I guess still has other deciding factors that are not helping, so I didn’t. We broke it off a little after that discussion. I am not going to name any names, and I want it to be clear that him and I ended our relationship in good terms and that I don’t think he is in the wrong in wanting to keep that part of himself to himself. There is not one right time or way for someone to come out. I want him to have his moment, just like I’m having mine now.”
He stops reading there and shuts off his screen. His hands feel clammy, and breathing isn’t as easy as he thinks it really should be, and it’s been years since Sirius last had a panic attack but he’s pretty sure this is one. He gets up and his knees feel shaky, but they carry him to the kitchen anyway, where he opens the tap and holds both of his wrists under the streaming cold water.
Out of all the things Sirius thought were going to happen this week, this was not on the list. This, he thinks, is the worst case scenario. Not Gideon coming out; that was a bit of a surprise, but good for him, honestly. No, the worst case scenario is the fact that, according to all the headlines he saw, people made the connection despite Gideon being very careful, like he said he was. Sirius takes a few shaky breaths and slowly counts to ten before closing the tap again.
From: Marlene: Call me when you can
From: Marlene: I can try to make this go away if you want. Just say the word. But you and I both know denial will only egg them on
From: Marlene: I haven’t made any statements yet. I’m waiting for you to let me know how you want to go about this
From: Marlene: I want to tell you to take your time, but I doubt anyone is going to let you rest before you say at least something
Sirius doesn't call Marlene. He sends her a quick message letting her know he’ll let her know as soon as he has somewhat of a plan, then puts the phone face down on the coffee table and buries himself in blankets on the couch. The phone rings almost immediately and eventually buzzes itself to the floor while Sirius just watches and tries to regulate his breathing.
He has a feeling it’s going to be a long time before his heart rate goes down from being uncomfortable.
**
@god_loves_judy @SiriusBlack you should be ashamed of yourself #jesussaves #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 4 hours ago
@audrey_black98 i can’t believe @SiriusBlack would keep something like this from his fans. it almost feels like a lie #whatadisappointment #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 4 hours ago
@q452kj9033mp @SiriusBlack don’t you think it’s shady to write the songs you sing and yet be so queer? not cool man #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 4 hours ago
**
Sirius is hungry. Ordering in doesn’t seem like he best option, given the circumstances. The only things he has in his cupboards are milk that’s gone bad and a can of halved peaches. He eats one and throws up right after.
**
@BlackIndustries CEO Walburga Black defends son @SiriusBlack in recent backlash: “Black Industries has always been the biggest supporter of LGBT artists.” http://www.blackindust... 3 hours ago
@funnyguy420 do you guys remember a few years ago when @BlackIndustries swore that @SiriusBlack wasn’t gay? Well look at them go now… #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 3 hours ago
@gimmesunshine @funnyguy420 as much as I dislike @SiriusBlack right now… yeah, I call bullshit @BlackIndustries give me the receipts #WhatAbutSiriusBlack 3 hours ago
@bellpeppersandcream @gimmesunshine @funnyguy420 I did some quick research, all I could find was that @BlackIndustries has been funding several summer camps and therapists supporting conversion therapy. Doesn’t sound great, I’ll be honest. 2 hours ago
**
Sirius wonders if he should pick up smoking again just for something to do to calm him down. He doesn’t have any cigarettes in his apartment, which is of course a good thing, but it makes him unreasonably angry all the same.
**
@jc1956gold as a gay man, I feel like the community could have used someone like @SiriusBlack in the past few years. Too little too late, I’m afraid. #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 1 hour ago
@Samuel_Cornwell72 Turns out @SiriusBlack is the biggest lie of our generation. Can’t say I’m surprised… #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 1 hour ago
@siriusly_in_love_with_sirius I haven’t cried like this in years…… @SiriusBlack STAY STRONG MY LOVE!!!1! #LeaveSiriusAlone #StopPushingYourGayAgenda #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 52 minutes ago
**
Social media doesn’t sleep. It lives outside of time zones and office hours, it works relentlessly to get to the bottom of things. The tweets and other posts Sirius sees in the following hours range from disappointed and mean to evil and outright lies. He almost throws his phone to the wall when he sees the statement his mother made, bile rising to his throat again along with the flashbacks and residual pain. He thought he has done a good job separating himself from Black Industries, ignoring them and twice even said quite frankly in interviews that his family has nothing to do with him, that he is not his family and that their values are not his values. He has done everything he can short of coming out.
Maybe that’s what he should have done years ago. Seems a little late, now.
It’s a cruel joke to say that everyone has a right to come out at their own time, when they feel most comfortable with themselves. Sirius hasn’t had the luxury; for years he has been gathering his courage, growing into his own skin and learning how to be him without the constant nagging voice that sounds like his mother in his head, distancing himself from his past, and now every opportunity to come out in his own terms has been taken from him for good. He has waited for too long, and he’s paying for it.
James tries calling him around 10 PM. Sirius doesn’t answer. Marlene tries again a little later, and Sirius dodges that as well. James sends a message every 20 minutes, funny emojis and words of encouragement and the occasional cute dog video, until the messages stop a little after 2 AM, supposedly because James falls asleep. Sirius can’t even think about sleeping and envies his best friend for it.
Sirius barely sleeps a wink all night, and at 6:30 he packs a bag. He picks up the duffel he just emptied less than 48 hours earlier and fills it up with random clothes he doesn’t bother folding, most of them probably dirty anyway. He rushes to the bathroom and throws toiletries in the duffel, things he thinks he might need and some he hasn’t used since before the tour or even longer. He can’t focus enough to make bigger decisions about what to pack, and when he thinks he has enough he zips the bag shut. He can get any missing essentials when he arrives.
Picking up his laptop and charger is routine, swinging the guitar case over his shoulder second nature. He takes the elevator straight to the garage hall of his building and throws his things on the back seat of his car in a haste. There are paparazzi camped outside, and when they see him leaving, they hurry to get in their own vehicles to follow him. He only has a few minutes’ lead, and he needs to make those minutes work.
“Hey Siri”, he says, a little surprised that his voice doesn’t break when he does, “call Marlene.”
Marlene answers almost right away, which is not a terrible shock, seeing as she probably hasn’t slept much either and has been glued to her phone for the past 12 hours. The little part of Sirius that isn’t hurting feels incredibly guilty for being the cause of so much stress.
“I need to get away”, Sirius explains. Marlene doesn’t say anything, so he continues, “from everything. Starting now. And I need your car.”
He doesn’t need to explain that people will be following his, so he needs Marlene’s to get out of town unseen. He doesn’t have to tell her where he’s going to go, she knows without asking, because there’s only one place he could even think of going at a time like this. When Sirius parks the car in front of Marlene’s townhouse, she’s already waiting outside with her keys, and Sirius is so thankful he could cry. He doesn’t.
“Please cancel everything”, he pleads while hastily transferring his laptop, duffel bag, and guitar case from his car to Marlene’s. “Interviews, appearances, everything. I’m supposed to be on holiday, anyway.”
Marlene looks at him, and Sirius hates the way she sees everything he doesn’t want her to see. It can’t be helped, not when someone knows him so well. He doesn’t think there are more than two people in the world who know him like that. “For how long?”
Sirius thinks about it. He doesn’t know. “I don’t know. Just cancel everything.”
He knows Marlene wants to argue; Marlene always wants to argue, that’s why their professional relationship is the best Sirius has with anyone. But Marlene also wants what is best for him, for the most part, and so she doesn’t fight him too much when he takes her car keys and walks towards her open garage. He needs to be far away from here before the paparazzi decide to try their luck to find him here.
“Hey.” Sirius turns at the sound of Marlene’s voice, tender in a way that is very unlike her. She’s looking at him and her eyes are sad, and Sirius hates that. “You already know this, or at least I hope you do, but you have no reason to hide. You’re not in the wrong. But I understand you need space. Just”, she pauses, almost like doubting herself, which is also unlike her. “Just be safe, okay? Let me handle everything, and just. Be safe. And text me . Let me know you’re alright. Got it?”
Sirius nods, because he has a feeling that if he opens his mouth no words would come out anyway. Marlene looks like she’s half a second away from hugging him, so he turns back around and gets in the car before she can.
He takes out his phone, connects it to the Bluetooth and taps out a quick message. Then he closes Twitter and then deletes every single social media app, throwing the phone on the passenger seat, and pulling out of the driveway.
**
@SiriusBlack Congratulations, another one bullied into coming out. I’ll be on hiatus for the foreseeable future. I hope you’re all pleased with yourselves. 5 minutes ago
**
Sirius has driven for nearly an hour in complete silence before he breaks it, clearing his throat. “Hey Siri”, he says once more, this time feeling a little more confident, though not any calmer. His hands have stopped shaking, at least. “Call Prongs.”
James, too, answers almost immediately. Sirius doesn’t want to think why that is; doesn’t want to know if James has been waiting for the call since the news broke, or if he’s been wanting to call without knowing what to say. Both options are very likely to be true, and they both weigh like lead in his stomach.
Before Sirius hears James, he hears Harry, and already he feels a little bit better.
“Hi there, Pads”, James says over Harry’s screams. Sirius can’t decide if the boy is happy or sad – or both, in a way only a four-year-old can be – but either way the sounds break through the Bluetooth connection and echo inside the car. Sirius turns down the volume. James sounds exhausted, but he has sounded more or less exhausted since the day Harry was born so it doesn’t really mean anything. “I just changed the sheets in the guest room. What time do you suppose you’ll be arriving?”
Because James knows. He’s Sirius’ brother and he picks up the phone and just knows , and Sirius wants to cry all over again. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to smile a little to himself in the rear-view mirror.
“Six hours, give or take. Just passed Luton a while ago.” Harry’s screams sound a little further away now; maybe James walked into another room. Sirius imagines it will take Harry a few more moments to even notice. “Traffic’s okay. I don’t think I’ll be stopping much for coffee.”
“Right.” James wants to say something, Sirius knows, but instead the line is quiet for a moment. Even Harry has stopped wailing for a quick breath. “Lily will be home by then, I think. I will have an early dinner ready. Is sambar okay?”
“More than”, Sirius breathes, smiling a little and ignoring the tears that slip down his cheeks. “Can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal, to be honest.”
“High time you came by, then, isn’t it.” The smile can be heard in James’ voice. He’s always like that; it’s one of the things that drew Sirius to him in the first place, so different from the other people he grew up with. “Please drive safe.”
The call ends. Sirius blinks back the last of his tears and stares at the long road ahead. For the first time in hours, it feels like he can breathe a little – or, at the very least, he knows that by tonight he’ll be somewhere where it’ll be a little bit easier.
Chapter 2: August - September, part II
Summary:
Sirius gets hugs, meets new people, and eventually feels worse.
Notes:
This chapter is double the size of the first one, but here's the thing: this was all once just one big chapter. There's still even more that was originally part of it, and I've already split this up so well. You should be really proud of me.
We get a lot of new characters this time, and Sirius really needs a hug. I'm very sorry in advance. I promise the healing will start very soon.
Also let me just say I love little Harry. I hope you do, too.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius has not been to Whitehaven as many times as he would have wanted to, but he has come to visit a few times. Mostly before the demo and the viral video, before his voice was on every radio channel and his face in every magazine. Before the record deal. He hasn’t wanted to risk going there too much and drawing the attention to this corner of the world where things still feel quiet for him. Not for his own sake, and especially not for his friends’. Meeting up in London a few times a year to take Harry out on adventures undercover and to go to the theatre with Lily has been a compromise, but it’s one he’s been happy to make.
Still, the house looks like home. (Not the home he grew up in, never that, but one he knows in his soul; one that’s built with love from the inside out, a home that holds the people he keeps in his heart.) The driveway is lined with neatly trimmed lawn, there’s a huge flowerpot on the front step, and right above the doorbell is a piece of wood, sloppily painted in pink, with the word welcome written on it by an unsteady toddler hand. The sight of it squeezes tight on Sirius’ heart, and he leaps out of the car as soon as he’s parked without bothering to take his things from the back. He races to the front door, and it opens before he can even decide if he should knock or use the doorbell.
“Uncle Padfoot!”
Harry is so small. He’s grown so much, but he’s still so small, and Sirius can’t believe he’s already tall enough to reach for the doorknob. Harry barrels forward, crashing into Sirius’ legs before he has time to crouch down to catch him, and they stumble a little to stay up.
“Hey, sprog.” Sirius leans down, one hand in Harry’s hair and one on his back, in an awkward hug where Harry pulls on the backs of his thighs as hard as his tiny fists can muster. “Hi, buddy. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Did you bring me any presents?”
A laugh bubbles up in Sirius’ throat, but it feels a little ugly, a little like a sob. Before he can answer, though, James appears in the doorway, his voice firm and gentle at the same time, just like Sirius believes a father’s should be. “Harry James Potter, what have we talked about demanding presents from people?”
Harry is clearly dismayed about this, letting go of Sirius and turning to look at James with a frown. “But Daddy, we always get presents when people come visit.”
“Well”, Sirius says, clearing his throat and crouching down so that he’s more in level with Harry and his bright green eyes, “I’m afraid I was in a bit of a hurry this time, so no present. But tell you what; one of these days we’ll go to the store, just the two of us, and you can choose any toy you want.”
Harry’s little face is so bright and hopeful Sirius almost cries again. It’s quite terrible. “Really?”
“Really.”
With a squeal of happiness, Harry starts jumping up and down, doing a little wiggly dance as he runs and hops and skips and twirls back into the house, making all kinds of happy noises as he goes. This is it , Sirius thinks, this is exactly why I came here . He stands up and straightens his back, turning to look at James. His best friend James, his brother James. James, who is looking at him with hands on his hips and eyebrows raised, looking every bit his mother and then some, and all Sirius can do is grin.
“What? You think I would just come here and not spoil my godson rotten with the absurd amounts of money I make?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. You’re both hopeless; Harry’s been sitting at the window since lunch, waiting for you to arrive.” James’ smile turns from amused to something softer, a little worried, even. He steps closer and pulls Sirius in a tight hug that smells like spices and feels like fifteen years of friendship and brotherhood. “I’m very glad you’re here, no matter the circumstances.” Sirius clutches the back of James’ shirt for a moment and buries his face into his shoulder. He’s determined to not cry any more today. “Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather be distracted for a few days?”
Sirius hums. “Distracted. I…” He’s not sure how to explain how he’s feeling; he doesn’t quite understand it himself, yet. He extracts himself from James’ chest and rubs at his eyes since they’re starting to sting again. “I will talk. Just. Not now, okay? I just think I need a little quiet from all that.”
With a clap on Sirius’ shoulder, James’ grin turns all sunshiny again. “Sure”, he says, then helps Sirius take his things inside. “Lily’s napping in the bedroom, you could go say hi”, he suggests when Sirius takes off his shoes and lines them up neatly by the door. “Don’t worry about waking her up, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
They take a little detour where James shows Sirius the new modern extension that they finished on the house two months ago. He’s seen many pictures of it, of course, and has gotten the grand tour twice (once from James and once from Harry), but it’s even more wonderful to see in person. It has big windows on two walls, and James explains that the third wall of glass opens up all the way, bringing the outside in and making the patio part of the dining room. Harry gets a little tantrum when James tells him it’s a little too windy to open the wall for dinner and that it’s going to rain soon, and Sirius takes that as his que to slip upstairs to the master bedroom.
Lily doesn’t wake up when he opens the door, but she does begin to stir when he drops down on the bed and spoons her, nuzzling her hair and squeezing her gently around the waist.
“Lily Evans, I have come to steal you away once and for all”, Sirius mumbles against her shoulder, feeling her shake with laughter. “Nothing can stop our love anymore.”
“Too little too late, Padfoot”, Lily laughs sleepily, turning in his arms so that she can return the hug. “I’m afraid I’m quite attached to the husband I already have.”
Sirius holds her tightly and relishes in the feeling of home once again. He hasn’t even realised how much he’s missed just being around the people he loves. “He’s alright, I suppose. We’ll make a gorgeous throuple. We’ll be unstoppable.”
Lily’s laughter shakes them both for a moment longer before she settles again and sighs against Sirius’ collar. He can hear Harry calming down again downstairs, and the clatter of dinnerware being set on the table. The bedroom window is open a crack, and late summer wind whistles through it, making the curtains dance in the calm space. It feels like the whole house exists in a different timeline than the one Sirius left when he got in the car in London this morning.
Lily hums a two note tune into the silence, then pulls back to look at Sirius properly. There’s a fond smile on her face that Sirius never would have thought would be directed at him when they were still at school. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too”, Sirius smiles back at her and gently flicks her nose with a finger. “Good thing I’m here for the foreseeable future, isn’t it?”
Lily closes her eyes again, stretching and pointing her toes like a ballerina. “I saw your tweet. Very snarky.”
Rolling on his back, Sirius lets out a humourless laugh. “Mature, I know. I’m not deleting it.”
“Oh, they deserved much worse. And what’s the point of deleting it, anyway? It’s been screenshotted a million times by now, I’m sure.”
Sirius knows that’s exactly how the internet works, but having it said so plainly still pangs his heart in a way a lot of things have that day. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands hard enough to see stars and lets out a long dramatic sigh. “Great.” Then he finally sits up and smiles a Lily. “Anyway, Prongs says dinner is about done, so we better get going before your boys eat everything and leave us nothing but crumbs.”
Lily stands up and offers one hand to Sirius, resting the other on her lower stomach where her pregnancy is starting to show to the point where she won’t be able to wear her regular pants anymore. “Let’s go, then.”
Dinner is all kinds of wonderful. James discovered cooking the summer after their seventh year of school when he had to sit out the whole season of football due to an injury, and while the first few months of that had been a little touch and go, he has turned out to be one of the best cooks Sirius has ever known. If James wasn’t so perfectly content with his life as a stay at home dad, he could make a good living having his own restaurant.
The taste of sambar is one that’s familiar to Sirius. It’s one of the first Indian dishes he ever tasted back when he started staying for dinner at the Potters, and it will always taste like home to him. He remembers being eleven years old, he remembers the first taste of curry and how the spices exploded in his mouth, remembers the way his eyes watered and how James laughed at him until he cried. It took him some time to get used to the new flavours, but once he did, he rarely even ate at home anymore.
It was just one less thing to tie him to that terrible house.
The rain starts halfway through dinner, growing at once from a small drizzle to buckets of water just pouring down and hitting the grand glass windows around the dining table. James and Lily fill Sirius in on James’ dad’s retirement plans, and Harry keeps interrupting to explain things about the other kids in the neighbourhood and his stuffed animals. James pours a small glass of white wine for himself and for Sirius, and all in all it’s the best dinner Sirius has had since probably the last time he had the chance to have dinner with his family.
Harry keeps moving his chair a little closer to Sirius’ until he’s more or less sitting in his lap and eating off his plate. “Padfoot, are you staying for a whole week?”
Sirius smiles and exchanges a quick look with James. “Well, buddy, I think I might be staying a bit longer than that, if it’s okay with you.”
“Really?” If Sirius didn’t live Harry so much, the shriek right next to his ear would have been more annoying. As would the small pointy knees digging a little painfully into his thighs. “Will you sleep in the baby’s room?”
“I think so, yes.”
Harry nods and eats another bite while Lily gets up and starts taking the empty plates to the kitchen. Then he hums thoughtfully like a regular four-year-old going on seventy and tilts his head. “But what about when the baby needs the room?”
James laughs into his wine glass. “Harry, that’s not going to happen for a while yet – “
“Oh, you can sleep in my room! I have a bunk bed, did you know?”’
Sirius loves his godson very, very much, but there’s no way he’ll share a room with him for any period of time. “I think we can cross that bridge when we come to it, sprog”, he says, patting Harry on the head. “But hey, a bunk bed! That’s pretty exciting. I bet you can make some awesome blanket forts there, huh?”
“Hey, Sirius, love, about tomorrow”, Lily says coming back from the kitchen. “I know we didn’t tell you, but we’ve had a dinner party scheduled for tomorrow night for weeks. We can cancel if you want.”
It says a lot about the dinner they’re currently having that it takes Sirius a few moments to understand why Lily would ask. And when he does, he still doesn’t quite get it, even though he does appreciate the concern. “Why would I want you to cancel?”
“It’s a bunch of people you don’t know”, James shrugs. “You know, from the neighbourhood. We get together for dinner every month or so.” There it is again, the worried wrinkle across James’ forehead. Sirius hates it a little bit. “If you would prefer to be just with the family, I totally get it. You’re the priority here.”
“That’s cute, Prongs. You old softie.” James raises his glass in a salute. “I did say I wanted to be distracted, though, didn’t I? Let’s have a dinner party.”
It might be for the best, when Sirius thinks about it. It’s a distraction. Sure, it’s people, and people always means he’s going to be on a bit of an edge, not knowing how much of himself he can put on display in a new crowd. It’s James and Lily’s friends, which means they’re probably good people, but Sirius has been burned before. And now that he keeps thinking about the dinner party and all the people he’s going to meet, he’s getting nervous.
Will they judge him? Has everyone read the articles and the speculations and – oh God – his tweet? Are they all going to think he’s being dramatic and weird about it all, hiding away instead of facing the music? Is this really the best idea, to have a dinner party when he hasn’t even had the time to try and process the situation on his own? He’s suddenly very tempted to take his words back and ask to just spend the day with the family like suggested.
“Great! You can finally meet Peter, you’re going to love him. And there are a few other people I want you to meet, too.” Sirius has heard of Peter many times but has yet to meet him. That one actually has him excited, but the rest... “Don’t worry, no one is going to tell anyone you’re here. These are people I would trust with Harry’s life. You’re safe here.”
And even though the idea of new people makes Sirius’ stomach lurch in a way that’s quite unfamiliar to him, he chooses to believe James.
**
Sirius wakes up the next morning graving for a smoke. He quit the habit almost seven years ago, and these past two days have been the hardest since the first twenty-four hours.
The rain has stopped at some point during the night, but the sky is still dark and grey. When Sirius digs through his duffel bag, he realises that in his haste to get away from London he only packed one running shoe. And no ear plugs. One of those things he can borrow from the Potters, but there’s no way he’s going to put his feet into James’ runners. He’ll just have to place an overnight order on new ones and try to distract himself with something else today.
It’s maybe a bit paranoid, but Sirius uses James’ name to order the running shoes. Just in case.
So instead of going for a run, Sirius bullies Lily into a bit of yoga before breakfast, and once Harry wakes up, he joins in by doing somersaults around them and babbling about his dream. James makes them pancakes for breakfast like he has done every Saturday since that summer Sirius ran away from home, and Sirius still feels a little out of place with how big of a change of pace this is but Harry and his never ending stories are then best distraction there is.
The day itself is beautifully calm. Lily drops by her office around noon and James shows Sirius around the garden behind the house, where he plans on having the new green house. There has been talk about buying more land from the neighbours, and James would really like to build a tree house in one of the old oaks for Harry to play in. Harry has what seems like at least five dozen new toys he hasn’t shown Sirius since they last video chatted, and he brings them all into the living room one by one and explains where he got them and when and why.
For a while there, Sirius is almost able to forget all about the drama that’s going on in his own life outside this house. He hasn’t looked at his phone since the morning, and he was supposed to come to Whitehaven at some point during his break anyway, so Harry isn’t asking any questions about his abrupt arrival. And James is doing a very good job at distracting him every time he seems to be getting quieter and more withdrawn – so good a job, in fact, that after a late lunch Sirius is really feeling the fatigue of his emotional turmoil and sleep deprivation catching up to him.
Sirius takes a nap on the living room couch before the dinner party. He wakes up to Harry snuggling to his chest while watching cartoons on the telly, tapping his little fingers on Sirius’ t-shirt to the sound of the main tune.
“Hey, sprog”, he says, and Harry turns his head to grin at him. “What are we watching?”
“Postman Pat.” Harry rests his cheek on his chest again and continues his tapping. He’s not very good at following the rhythm. “I like his cat. I wish I had a cat.”
Sirius pets his hair and hums. “I’m more of a dog person, myself. But he does have a cute cat.”
“You sound funny like this.”
“It’s because you can hear my voice both from my mouth and from my chest.” Harry has changed into a clean shirt while Sirius was napping. Sirius briefly wonders if he should change, too, but after a quick glance at the clock he realises he slept for way longer than he originally thought and would therefore rather spend the ten or so minutes before the guests start arriving hanging out with his boy. “So, tell me what’s going on with Pat today.”
Harry babbles about the not at all complex plotline of the current episode, adding in characters that Sirius is pretty sure are from another show entirely. From the sounds of it, James is in the kitchen making dinner, and Sirius suspects Lily is upstairs getting herself ready. Sirius is just about to second guess his choice to just wear the same shirt he’s been wearing all day when the front door opens and closes, and a voice Sirius has never heard before chimes a hello.
“Moony!” Harry screams, quickly and clumsily getting off of Sirius – poking in quite a few uncomfortable places as he goes – and runs off towards the front door. Sirius can hear a deep voice greeting Harry as he awkwardly gets up from the couch and turns off the TV.
“What”, he huffs, feeling much older than his age and leaning to the wall for support, “is a moony?”
What, indeed. Moony, as it turns out, is a man – a beautiful man, even, when Sirius gets a peek of his face. He’s bent over and tickling Harry who’s clinging to his legs, their laughter bending together in that way laughter does when you’re familiar with each other. Sirius instantly feels jealous. Who is this man and why is he so comfortable with his godson?
“Paddy, you’re so silly!” Harry giggles, catching his breath once the man lets him go. “ This is Moony.”
It still explains exactly nothing, but it does make Moony straighten his back and look at Sirius. Afterwards, Sirius will hate the fact that the first thing he notices is the scar that runs across the man’s face, from the outside corner of his left eye to his Cupid’s bow. He will wish he noticed the eyes (stormy and serious), or the hair (soft and sandy and a little bit too long around the ears), or the fact that he’s really very tall, but no. It’s the scar.
“Hello”, Sirius says, because he’s confused but not impolite, and extends a hand to shake. “I’m Sirius, Harry’s godfather.”
Sirius doesn’t imagine the flash of recognition in the man’s eyes. It’s always there when he meets new people, and he wishes he was used to it. He doubts he ever will be.
“Ah”, the man says, his voice quiet but not shy. There’s a smile on his lips that suggests he knows – or at least suspects – why Sirius is suddenly here, in their town, and not in London. “The famed Padfoot, then. Pleasure to finally meet you.” He takes Sirius’ offered hand before he can register his words properly. “I’m Remus. I live a little bit down the road.”
Of course he does . Sirius looks at the man closely. Remus. Sirius can’t say if he’s ever heard any of the Potters mention a Remus before, but if they have, Sirius can’t remember. He thinks he would, with a name like that, but he doesn’t. It bothers him, almost as much as the man’s stupidly beautiful face does, and the fact that Harry is so happy being held by him. How stupid, being jealous of a four-year-old’s attention. Sirius wants to punch himself a little.
“Right. Well, I’m going to be in town for now, so I guess we’ll be seeing each other a bit.”
“Seems like it. Can’t say I’m not looking forward to it.” He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather, that it takes Sirius a moment to catch on. Was that... Is Remus flirting with him? “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something to discuss with Lily and my goddaughter.”
Sirius watches him go, and watches as Harry sprints after him, and he takes in the soft cardigan and mismatched socks and the way his hand automatically closes around Harry’s. Then he blinks twice and resists the urge to shake his head as he walks into the kitchen.
James is standing by the stove, stirring two pans and making a salad at the same time and perfectly unaware of the inner turmoil Sirius is in.
“James, I need answers.” Sirius raps his knuckles on the kitchen island to get James’ attention. “Who is Remus ? How do you know him? Why have I never heard you mention him before when he’s apparently the godfather of your unborn child? Also, daughter ?”
Without the urgency that Sirius is feeling, James glances at him and shrugs a little. “Remus is Remus. You know Lily, she picks people up and brings them home for dinner. Remus just came along one day like, a year ago, and stayed.” James says all this like it’s nothing, like this Remus isn’t a seemingly permanent fixture in their life that Sirius is only now learning about. He’s being evasive, and Sirius doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t like that. “I’m glad he made it, he wasn’t sure he would. Harry’s very keen. Remus lets him help with his chickens, although I doubt Harry is immensely helpful.”
James says it like it's not news, like Sirius should know all this. Like this isn’t a big part of their day to day life that Sirius has been unaware of until five minutes ago. “No, I can’t imagine he would be.” Sirius is flabbergasted. He used to know everything about James and his life. Everything . He has so many questions and only so much time to get answers to them before dinner is ready and served. “And when were you going to tell me you’re having a girl, then?”
James just laughs as he sprinkles the roasted nuts over the salad. “We don’t know that we are, yet. Remus is just very convinced, and I think Lily has a bit of a feeling, too. But really, we want it to be a surprise. Pass the vinegar?”
Sirius does, feeling out of place and a bit itchy on the inside. He turns around a bit abruptly and leaves the room. “I think I might go and change my shirt, this one’s all wrinkly.”
Since he packed in such a hurry, Sirius doesn’t really have that many options for clothing. He picks one that’s just plain black and he’s pretty sure was in a pile of clean clothes when he packed it, then smooths out his hair a bit. He doesn’t bother doing his hair up with product the way he usually would; it’s a family affair, there’s no reason for him to think someone is going to judge him by the way his hair looks after a nap. Right? That’s what he tells himself.
He hates that he’s so nervous about this. He wasn’t nervous before; he was almost excited to meet James and Lily’s friends. For some reason, Remus has disrupted all that just by walking in and existing. That doesn’t happen to Sirius a lot anymore. He’s forgotten how to deal with it.
By the time Sirius comes back downstairs, three more people have arrived, seemingly together. The short man immediately steps forward and introduces himself as Peter, shaking Sirius’ hand with the air of someone who does it a lot – which Sirius supposes he does, being a town council member. Sirius remembers having heard of him from Lily and James for a few years now, James having met him during a charity event not long after Harry was born.
Dorcas does a double take when they see Sirius, but recovers quickly, which Sirius is thankful for. From then on, they have a very comforting aura around them that Sirius feels a little drawn to, making them a bit intimidating to be honest. Mary, on the other hand, either doesn’t know who Sirius is or doesn’t care, and that’s so refreshing that Sirius can feel his shoulders relax a bit and his smile turn into a little bit more genuine one.
Harry is really the centre of attention here, and so he should, Sirius thinks. He talks to everyone and gets laughs and smiles and cheers for almost anything he does, clearly comfortable with all these people. Harry has also decided on where everyone is going to sit during dinner, has even made little place cards where he has drawn pictures of all the dinner guests, and Sirius finds his next to Harry’s. He even got a little yellow heart.
During dinner, Sirius learns things about Remus. Well, he learns things about all of them, to be fair, like that Peter would probably weirdly get along well with his brother Regulus, and that he kind of wants to introduce Dorcas to Marlene someday, and that Mary’s doctor husband was supposed to come too but has been called in for a surgery. He learns that Mary owns a pub in town, and Dorcas owns a vintage clothing store right next door. He learns the sound of all of their laughter and that for tonight everyone prefers to drink white wine over red, except for Peter who drinks apple juice per Harry’s request.
But Sirius learns the most interesting things about Remus. Remus, who doesn’t say much, but reacts to everything. Remus, who sits on the other side of Harry and wipes his face with a napkin when he makes a mess, like they’ve been here a thousand times before. Remus, who taps his fingers to the table softly in between bites of food and hums around his fork when he likes something and doesn’t put his napkin in his lap the way Sirius has been taught to do since he was old enough to sit at a dinner table. It’s baffling to Sirius to learn all these things about someone he never even knew he was going to meet. Remus is just there , like he belongs in this crowd, and – and of course he does, this is his crowd , and Sirius has never felt like an outsider in James’ home, but this somehow feels close.
Sirius doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it, and he hates that he feels like that, because he has absolutely no right. He hasn’t visited in over a year, and video calls don’t count, and of course James and Lily and Harry make friends with other people, the bloody extroverts. Sirius has never expected to be James’ only friend; why does he feel so betrayed now?
It’s not the time and place to start feeling like this. That doesn’t stop the blood from rushing into Sirius’ ears, making it hard to hear the conversation towards the end of dinner. His vision starts tunnelling and the delicious food starts tasting like ash in his mouth and he has to drink an entire glass of water to ease it down. He tries the breathing exercises he learned from psychiatric nurse when he was sixteen, and after a while he feels almost back to normal.
By the time Sirius blinks and looks around it seems like dinner has officially ended. James, Mary and Dorcas have left the table and moved on to the living room, and Lily has taken Harry to wash his face and to probably put him down. Sirius looks to his left and sees that he’s been left alone with Remus, who looks at him with thoughtful eyes, twirling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers.
“Are you okay?” Remus asks, his voice low and a little careful, but it doesn’t make Sirius feel like he’s being treated like a child. He nods, sipping his water again. “I didn’t want to say anything to startle you, but it also didn’t seem okay to just leave you here alone.”
Sirius nods again, looking at the table and wondering how to get away the situation without seeming rude. As much as the whole idea of Remus intrigues him, Remus is probably one of the last people he actually wants to be around right now, for so many reasons. There’s just no way he can see that they will both come out of this situation still feeling like winners, and even though it’s barely eight o’clock, Sirius is actually considering faking a headache and turning in for the night.
“Does that happen often?” is what Remus asks then, and Sirius turns to look at him. He doesn’t look that curious; Sirius is actually having a hard time trying to read Remus at all.
Sirius shrugs. “Sometimes. Not so much anymore.”
Remus hums, exactly like he did when tasting his food. Does that mean he likes that answer, or is humming just a thing Remus does a lot? Sirius would know if he knew Remus even a little better, and that’s just one more thing to annoy him irrationally. “You handled it well. I don’t think the others even really noticed.” Sirius almost rolls his eyes, but then Remus continues: “It used to take me so long to calm myself down like that.”
And that... that makes it different. The fact that Remus didn’t stay because the famous pop star Sirius Black was having a panic attack and he wanted to witness, but because – what? Because he saw what was happening and related to it, and didn’t want Sirius to sit alone in the aftermath? Maybe even because he knew James and Lily would probably be too busy to take care of or even notice Sirius having a moment, and Remus, knowing something of what Sirius was feeling, decided to help any way he could? Remus doesn’t know him, has no reason to care even a little bit, and yet...
Sirius doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t feel like smiling, so he doesn’t. But he doesn’t leave, he just reaches for his wine glass and sips on that a bit, looking at Remus and the scar across his face. He wants to ask about it, but it’s not appropriate. Maybe someday.
The silence between them almost stretches long enough to get uncomfortable when Remus speaks again. “So, Sirius, what do you like to do? Are you big into football like James?”
Sirius tilts his head a bit to the side, trying to see where Remus is going with this. “Are you going to pretend like you have no idea who I am?”
“No. But I’m also not going to pretend like reading interviews and listening to your music means I know you are as a person.” Which... In a way, it’s the bare minimum. And yet it’s something Sirius can never assume, can never ask that of someone point blank. It takes him by surprise. “So, I ask again: Sirius, what do you like to do?”
And the funny thing is, Remus actually looks like he wants to know. Like he’s not just asking to keep Sirius company in the after panic haze, but because he wants to hear his answer. Sirius isn’t quite sure if this feeling is his heart skipping a beat or if his chest still feels a bit wonky from trying to breathe right.
“I’m not actually sure”, he says, “but I think part of why I’m in Whitehaven is that I want to find out.” Remus’s lips twitch at that, making the scar curve and dip a bit deeper into his skin. James laughs loud in the living room, making them both turn to look over for a second before looking back at each other again. “I like the idea of not pretending. I think I’m done with that.” Sirius reaches for the wine bottle and tops them both off. “You know, pretending like I’m anything but myself.”
Remus smiles and raises his glass a little bit in a salute. “Then I’ll promise you I won’t pretend with you, either.”
Sirius clinks their glasses together, and the sound echoes in his head a long time after they have both joined the party in the living room.
**
Everyone trickles out around ten, Peter giving Mary and Dorcas a drive back home and Remus leaving with them, saying something about still feeling a little off that Sirius doesn’t quite understand. Lily heads for a shower, leaving Sirius and James gather all the wine glasses and wash them in companionable silence. The only noises in the room are the splash of water and the occasional chime of the glasses clinking together.
Sirius’ head has started to hurt a little for real by the time he’s drying the last wine glass. He did enjoy meeting everyone, and the dinner as a whole was a pleasant affair, but the events and emotions of the last few days are really starting to catch up with him. He knows his plan to stay distracted won’t hold for long, but he really just wants to have one more night of sleep before he starts unpacking it all.
And yet, the night is not done yet.
James drains the sink and picks up the towel to dry his hands, then takes in a deep breath. “I’ve been getting some messages since dinner – “
Sirius is at once in high alert, almost dropping the glass in his hands. “Have people been bothering you? I swear, if they start to bother you, I will – “
“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Sirius puts the glass down with the others and looks at James, trying to decide if he’s lying or not. “I promise. Not many people have made the connection, and the rest don’t believe you and I to be in close contact anymore. We’re fine here.” Sirius is still not convinced, but James just takes out his phone and taps it a few times before handing it over. “What I was going to say that your brother messaged me.”
And that is definitely not what Sirius expected. He takes the phone, wondering if he summoned Regulus by thinking about him during dinner, and takes a deep breath before looking at the messages.
@regulusblack Is he okay?
@jfpotter I think he’s as okay as the situation allows
@regulusblack So he is there, then.
@regulusblack I’m glad.
@jfpotter I’m going to tell him you asked after him, you know
@regulusblack I expected as much. I remember how you two were at school.
@regulusblack Some things never change.
@jfpotter The best things don’t, I’ve learned
@jfpotter Do you want me to give him a message from you?
@regulusblack Not at this time. I’ll be in touch.
The last time Sirius heard from Regulus he had just gotten his first own apartment, and Regulus was about to start his first year of university in a few weeks. That conversation didn’t go well. The fact that Regulus is now interested to hear about Sirius... well, it’s surprising, for one thing, but also Sirius doesn’t know what to make of it.
“What does that even mean ?” he scoffs, scrolling up and reading the conversation again. It doesn’t make any more sense the second time he reads it. “I haven’t heard from him for five years, and then this? What does he think this is, a badly written spy movie?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a good sign that he’s reaching out, isn’t it?”
“He’s reaching out to you . Doesn’t mean he still wants anything to do with me.”
Sirius knows he’s being petty, and he knows James knows it too, though he doesn’t say it. He knows Regulus could very well have tried to contact him on his public accounts and he wouldn’t know after having deleted all the apps and not having his phone with him all day. Regulus doesn’t have his phone number, and he doesn’t know about any other way of directly contacting him. James, on the other hand, hasn’t changed his account name in ten years and doesn’t get half the notifications Sirius gets on a quiet day.
It’s quite logical. Sirius is past logic.
“Well”, he says, giving the phone back to James and picking up three wine glasses to put them on their shelf, “if he does contact you again, good for him. I doubt he will, though. Doesn’t sound like him.” James looks like he wants to say something, but Sirius puts away the glasses and turns to leave before he can. “I think I’m going to bed. Headache.”
He knows he’s being a little difficult, but. Well. He asked for distraction.
That’s all just a little too much for tonight, Sirius thinks as he closes the door of the guest room, soon to be turned into nursery. He quickly changes his clothes and flops down on the bed, immediately feeling bad for leaving things like that with James but not having the energy to deal with anything else tonight. He closes his eyes, feeling the burn behind them, and hopes for an easier tomorrow.
Notes:
Side note: if someone here is from Whitehaven, I'm actually so so so sorry for all of this. I've never been to Whitehaven and only chose it because of the location. I hope I can be vague enough as not to ruin it entirely, but if I do make any major mistakes that you think would affect the plot please let me know.
Chapter 3: August - September, part III
Summary:
Sirius goes running and Harry introduces him to a chicken named Daisy. Oh, and Remus is there.
Notes:
I think I need to clarify a few things about this story.
Firstly, the only reason I'm setting this in Whitehaven is the proximity to the Lake District. Because "take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die" is one of the reasons I'm even writing this. In case this hasn't been clear from the very beginning. And when I found out about Fairy Rock in Whitehaven? Instantly obsessed.
Secondly, while this story takes influence from Taylor Swift's relationship with Joe Alwyn, this one will have a happy ending. I know you don't know me, but Wolfstar WILL be endgame for me, always. There's a lot of rumours and speculations going on about Taylor and Joe's relationship now in the lead up to TTPD, and I want to be very clear that these speculations will never come into play in this story. This is about so much more than just the relationship, really, and I hope I can make that come across naturally as the story progresses.
Anyway. A lot of thinking in this chapter. I once again had to split a chapter in two to make it more manageable. Sirius really is in his head a lot, and that makes the scenes drag on. But I hope you can appreciate it none the less. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
When the morning arrives and James wakes Sirius up by throwing the newly delivered running shoes on his bed, Sirius knows he has no one but himself to blame.
“Come on, get dressed.” James doesn’t sound angry about last night, but there is an edge of tough love in his voice that Sirius both detests and appreciates. “Since I apparently ordered new runners, I guess we’re going for a run. I’ll meet you outside in ten.”
For just a few seconds, Sirius sighs and curses the mere idea of getting up right now, but then his soul starts to itch with the need to move. He has pent up energy leftover from half a week at this point, and it’s a fact that he really can’t stand to run with anyone other than James. It’ll be good for me, he thinks, then pushes himself up and is downstairs and ready to join James’ warm up in less than seven minutes.
Stepping out the front door gives Sirius a small pause. He hasn’t left the house since he arrived. It’s still early, and it’s a Sunday, but Sirius can already see a few people going about their morning business. That’s where his new fear of strangers comes in, his mind going into overdrive, thinking how many of those people will recognise him on their run, how long it will take until someone on social media connects the dots, how much time will he have until he’s going to have to leave again to protect the Potters. His heart already aches on the possibility that he’s going to have to break the promise he made to Harry about staying for a while.
James notices his unease, because of course he does, and follows his gaze out to the few neighbours now passing the house across the street. He waves at them as he says with a low voice, “No one here want the press here any more than you do, so you can trust that no one is going to leak your whereabouts online. But if you want, I can show you a path out by the trees that’s quieter and more secluded.”
Sirius mutters his thanks, and once the neighbours turn the corner they start running, finding their rhythm as if they’ve been running together every day since they were teenagers. Sirius feels sudden nostalgia for those days; the early morning runs in the summer time before James’ football practice, coming back home to James’ parents who have always treated him as one of their own, spending long hours kicking the ball in the back yard and all the while making up pranks and coming up with plans to get Lily to fall in love with James.
In those memories, Regulus is a lurking figure. Curious for the wrong reasons, asking after him only to report back to their parents. Sirius wishes he had more good memories with his brother, when the ones he does have are all tainted by getting caught and being punished.
Regulus used to be sweet, once upon a time. Always following after Sirius, telling stories and imagining whole worlds, much like Harry is doing now. They used to sneak into each other's rooms when they had nightmares, making pillow forts and holding hands until they fell asleep. Then Sirius met James at school, and maybe it was his fault then, that Regulus was left to figure things out on his own. Regulus grew spiteful and bitter, learned to judge Sirius the way their mother did, and in the process turned out to be a carbon copy of their father.
Realistically, Sirius knows he is not to blame for the way his brother turned out, how they were both raised, but the blame is a hard one to shake when it was drilled into him from such a young age. The therapist the Potters found him ears ago has had her work cut out for her, and Sirius has been working hard to become the person he is now, all despite where he started from.
In the past few years, Sirius hasn’t had any contact with anyone from his biological family, including Regulus. He has learned that to be for the best. He has distanced himself from the Black Industries the best he can, dodges questions about them regularly, and has his parents’ publicist blocked in every social media platform. And yet...
And yet.
Sirius follows James as they run until they reach Fairy Rock. He remembers coming this way before, when he last visited. He has no idea why it’s called that, has never really given it much thought, but it’s nice there, calm; it’s where they slow down and take a break now. James sits down on a rock to retie his shoes, and Sirius walks closer to the edge of the cliff, looking out at the sea.
“I got so unreasonably jealous last night”, he says, already feeling ashamed even though he knows he really has no reason to. “It was so ugly I hated myself for it.”
James hums, his voice almost drowning in the wind and the sound of waves before he gets up again and comes to stand next to Sirius. “What were you jealous for?”
“Everything? Nothing? Who even knows.” Sirius picks up a pebble and throws it out. It’s too windy and they’re too high up for him to hear it fall in the water, but he imagines the splash anyway. “I’m such a cliché, honestly. Coming here to realise that the pop star life isn’t all it was made out to be, feeling jealous of the calmer lifestyle you all have.”
That’s not all of it, and Sirius knows James knows that – but it’s one thing to admit to the jealousy about a lifestyle and another one entirely to be jealous of the people. And Sirius is jealous. James and Peter have their own language and inside jokes, and there’s a familiarity that surrounds them all when James and Lily talk to him or Mary and Dorcas. They have history, and maybe it’s not a long history like they have with Sirius, but it’s there and it’s important, and Sirius is not a part of it. And Remus – Remus is there, and even after just one dinner Sirius can tell that he is such an integral part of the Potters’ everyday life, and Sirius has no idea who he is. And he wants to know. That’s probably the worst part.
Sirius doesn’t want to think about all of that right now, though, so he shakes his head and throws another pebble over the edge.
“But you know what the problem is here? I really fucking love my job, Prongs”, he turns to James, “I really do. I love writing songs and performing them to full venues, and most of the time I just really love my fans and interacting with them and having all these inside jokes and stories. I love all of it, and I’m not ready to give that up yet, but a part of me wishes...” Sirius pauses, and James just looks at him until he turns back towards the sea and sighs. “I don’t even know. Something more.”
It’s not the emotional battle Sirius was expecting to fight in Whitehaven. He didn’t know there were so many internalised issues he would have to face at once. Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t know; maybe, if he knew, he would have been too overwhelmed to go on.
“I know I have been so lucky.” It’s not a hard thing to admit – he has felt incredibly lucky and thankful every day since he got picked up by his label, he has had ever opportunity and every chance he never knew he could want. It’s just been hard to remember these past few days, when his worst fears and his parents’ most terrifying threats have come true partly because of his fans’ enthusiasm. “I’ve had it very good for a very long time, and I’m not taking that for granted. Yesterday just... I guess it made me realise something’s missing.”
The wind picks up, and without saying a word James starts leading the way back, walking at a leisure pace. They pass a dog walker, and Sirius turns his head even though the woman barely even looks at him, smiling at James and greeting him by name. Sirius supposes it’s the way things are in a small town like this, but he really wouldn’t know after spending most of his life in London.
“And Regulus?” James asks, and Sirius can feel his shoulders instantly tense up again. He hates that that’s how his body reacts, even at just a mention of Regulus, and even with James. “How does he fit into all of this?”
The last Sirius heard, Regulus graduated with honours and was being groomed to become the heir to the company – just like Sirius was supposed to be, before he left. He has been avoiding the parts of town where they might run into each other, and has not looked at any of Regulus’ social media. Maybe he has secretly been hoping to one day reconnect, to have a relationship with the brother he was given by birth on top of the one he chose in his heart, but the way everything happened with the forced outing and Regulus messaging James... it rubs him the wrong way.
When he thinks about it, Sirius doesn’t even know how he would have wanted it to go differently with Regulus. Is there a best case scenario to reconnect with a brother who once said he wished you had died instead of left? He doubts there is. And even if there will maybe always be a brother shaped hole in Sirius’ heart, he thinks they both might have outgrown it to a point where they won’t ever fit together again the way they once used to.
“I don’t know if he has anything to fit into. He’s the one who one day decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. He’s going to have to do a lot more to reach out before I will even consider returning the favour.”
It’s a lie and they both know it. Things are never that black and white, never that clear cut and simple. But even after years the wound is still so fresh, the pain too prominent, and Sirius isn’t giving up on that yet, petty as it is.
“Fair enough”, James shrugs. He has been there for every part of Sirius’ pain, knows the conflicting feelings he has over it all, and Sirius can trust that James, if anyone, can understand that forgiveness for this won’t come easy. “Race you back home?”
Sirius takes a deep breath, then sprints ahead of James without another word.
**
It takes another week for Sirius to step outside of the house other than for a run, and even then it’s only because Harry uses the puppy dog eyes on him.
“Please, Paddy!” he whines, pulling at Sirius’ sleeve and using all his small body’s weight to get him to stand up. “I can show you the chickies! I know all their names and where their food is and everything!”
Sirius looks at Lily at the other end of the couch, but she just smirks and pointedly looks down at her book, no help at all. She’s come home early from work, and Sirius has kind of been hoping to spend some time with her, but it’s a nice day out for once, and so it appears that Harry has other plans.
And it’s not like he doesn’t want to see Remus. He’s a little embarrassed to admit even to himself how much he has thought about Remus since the dinner party, and he’s starting to think that maybe his brain is making a bigger deal out of it all than it truly is. It’s not as if Sirius is blind, though – he knows Remus is very attractive, and that alone is a fine excuse for him to be thinking about him so much. But it’s not just the looks. Sirius keeps coming back to the fact that James is not telling him everything about the way Remus came into their lives, and the way Remus stayed with him after his panic attack, and it’s hard to forget how big a part of their life in Whitehaven Remus is when Harry keeps bringing him up at least twice a day.
So, since there’s no way he could ever actually say no to Harry, Sirius sighs and squares his shoulders. “Alright, we can stop by for a bit. Go get your wellies and a coat.” Harry cheers as he runs out of the room, and Sirius gets up from the couch and gives Lily an uncertain look. “And you’re sure Remus wouldn’t mind?”
There’s something sneaky in Lily’s eyes, but it’s gone before Sirius can call her out on it. “I’m sure. We go over with Harry all the time.”
Funny that Harry isn’t the one I’m worried about, Sirius thinks, but ends up getting his shoes and James’ denim jacket and letting Harry lead the way down the road to Remus’s cottage.
And it is a cottage. For some reason Sirius had thought it was just one of those times people use the word cottage to describe a smaller house, but the building hiding behind bushes and an old stone wall is most definitely a cottage. It has vines growing on the weathered walls, and flowerpots on the windows, and a porch and a garden shed and tier swing hanging from one of the trees, and when Harry runs ahead to the garden gate that leads to the back yard, Sirius sees the back porch and the porch swing with bright coloured pillows.
He can’t believe a place like this exists, let alone that someone actually lives here.
Remus steps out the back door, like he’s known they were coming – and maybe Lily called him, how would Sirius know. He’s dressed in a soft looking jumper with a well-worn coat over it, and his wellies must be the muddiest things Sirius has ever seen, and – and he looks kind of wonderful, if Sirius is being honest with himself. He’s all long limbs and wind-swept hair and freckles, and when his eyes land on Harry his whole face lights up in a way that makes Sirius’ stomach turn.
This is not the time, he says to himself, knowing he won’t actually listen. He’s always been quick to crush on someone, and right now he honestly has too much going on in his life to have time for those kinds of feelings as well. Do not start anything with him when you don’t have anything to offer. His inner voice sounds a little bit like Lily.
“Why, hello, Mr. Potter”, Remus smiles, and Harry runs to him to hug him around the legs. Then Remus’s eyes drift to Sirius still awkwardly standing by the back gate, and something on his face changes. It’s not bad, just – different, and Sirius wants to know what it means. “Mr. Black. A pleasant surprise, I have to say.”
“Please”, Sirius automatically replies like he has to a hundred people before, trying not to think too much about that pleasant surprise, “not Mr. Black. I’ve always hated being called that.”
“Yeah, Moony, he’s just Padfoot”, Harry says. He’s jumping up and down, his wellies clonking loudly on the wooden porch. “We’re here to feed the chickies!”
Remus turns his smile back towards Harry (and since this is the most, the widest, the brightest Sirius has seen him smile yet, it’s definitely worth a mention) and waves a hand towards the chicken coop at the far corner of the small garden. “Then, by all means, lead the way. I think Daisy misses you, she’s been making an awful lot of noise all day.”
Harry lets out a happy gasp and is off again, running towards the coop and slipping a bit in the mud, catching himself before Sirius can even call out a warning. There’s another gate at the mesh fence surrounding the coop, and Harry is quick to open and close it, clearly familiar enough to have done this many times before. Sirius really shouldn’t have doubted him about that.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to say, but Daisy is Harry’s favourite”, Remus says, drawing Sirius’ attention back to him just as he’s picking up a massive sack of chicken feed and throwing it over his shoulder before following Harry towards the coop. “She’s one of the braver ones, so she never minded that much that it took Harry a while to learn just how gentle he needs to be with these ladies. But he’s very adamant in making all of them like him, so we’re not supposed to mention any favouritism.”
Sirius follows Remus to the pen, briefly thinking he should have borrowed wellies from James as well but letting that go quickly as Remus asks him to open a ridiculously large bucket along the coop wall and help him pour the chicken feed inside. The low door to the coop is open, and Sirius can hear the clucking mixed with Harry’s incredibly gentle, wholly unintelligible babbling, and only a moment later Harry appears in the doorway holding a white chicken in his arms and grinning so bright Sirius can’t help but smile back.
“Padfoot, look! This is Daisy!” The chicken doesn’t seem to mind being held, and since Remus isn’t saying anything, Sirius assumes Harry is holding her the right way and everything. Another thing he shouldn’t be surprised about at this point. “I think she likes you.”
“And who wouldn’t”, Remus says, and Sirius swallows around something icky in his throat. “Alright, Harry, you know the drill. Young ones first.”
Sirius watches from the door with a mix of awe and terror as Remus and Harry go about caring for the chickens. Harry takes over the feeding, scattering the grains around the coop and even getting some of the birds to eat right from his hand, while Remus putters about the small building, collecting eggs and filling up the water and grain dispensers and spreading fresh hey in the nesting boxes. Sirius counts ten chickens and a rooster, the latter strutting about like the king of the palace, which he of course more or less is. Sirius has no idea how to tell a younger chicken from an older one, but Harry apparently knows, or he doesn’t and Remus is just too nice to say. Either way, the chickens get fed, and the coop gets cleaned, and when they leave, they leave the door open for the birds to roam the small pen allowed for them.
Before Sirius can feel awkward about overstaying a welcome after completing the task they came here to do, Remus is already leading them inside, reminding Harry to take off his wellies in the mudroom and telling him to wash his hands right away. The mudroom leads right into a small cozy kitchen, and Sirius kicks off his shoes as well and wanders in while Remus puts the eggs in an honest to God basket on the counter.
The cottage is even smaller on the inside, and filled to the brim with books. The kitchen opens to a small living room dining room combo, and books are on every available surface. It doesn’t look messy, just unorganised enough to be a little on the impractical side. Two large armchairs face a fireplace, and all the walls are lined with bookshelves. There are two doors that lead from the room, as well as a small hallway that presumably goes to the front door – and a bathroom, apparently, because that’s where Harry runs from now, hands still a little wet from the washing.
“Have you eaten?” Remus asks and Sirius twirls around to see him pulling things from the fridge. “I was going to make sandwiches for lunch.”
“May I please have a sandwich with sausage, Moony?” Harry has always had good manners, but Sirius is starting to suspect that Remus might be his favourite adult, given how sickly sweet he turns whenever Remus is around. It makes the little monster called jealousy move around uncomfortably in Sirius’ stomach again, but he pushes the feeling down quickly.
Instead, he smiles a little. “Even though Harry being hungry is absolutely not an indication of anything since he could eat a horse at any given time of the day, we have not eaten lunch.” He takes off the denim jacket and puts it on the back rest of one of the mismatched chairs around the dining table. “Can I help any?”
“Oh, no. You just sit”, Remus says, waving his hand and already having everything ready to assemble some very delicious looking lunch sandwiches. “Not much to do here, anyway.”
Sirius doesn’t sit. He wanders around the room, taking in all the books and little trinkets. Harry has found a small box of children’s books and is rummaging through that by the fireplace, clearly comfortable here. The big window in the room gives out to the side of the cottage that’s facing the road, but the front yard is so overgrown that the road is not visible at all; the whole plot of land is like its own little fairytale land, separate from the outside world. And underneath the window, under so many books and plotted plants that Sirius didn’t recognise it at first, stands a beautiful old Baldwin upright piano, clearly not in active use.
“Do you play at all?” Sirius can’t help but ask, getting closer to the instrument and already guessing the answer.
“Hmm?” Remus hums, slightly turning his head until he spots what Sirius is talking about. “Oh, God no, it came with the house. I just think it’s pretty. Terribly out of tune, I bet.”
Sirius hasn’t realised it before now, but he hasn’t touched his guitar since he came to Whitehaven. He hasn’t not played any musical instruments for this long since he was a teenager. He hasn’t felt the urge; the entire idea of playing a song hasn’t even crossed his mind. He expects to now feel a resentment towards it, given everything that’s gone down, but he doesn’t. Instead, looking at this old piano under all the piles of books, Sirius feels his fingers itch to lift the piano lid and press down on the keys, if even just to hear just how out of tune it is.
Piano is his first love. Everyone knows him to play the guitar these days, and that’s what he gravitates toward a lot of the time, but it was in front of a piano, at four years old, that Sirius first felt the bolt down his spine, the joy that came from creating music, however halting and shaky. He keeps thinking that he should get back to playing just to hear the notes, but stuff keeps piling up, and sitting down in front of a piano when it’s not for work just hasn’t seemed worth it.
That’s another feeling Sirius is not very fond of. So, instead of thinking about how his one true passion in life has turned into something that barely brings him joy anymore, he retracts his hand, shakes his head, and turns his back to the piano.
“What do you do, then?” Now that he thinks about it, Sirius feels a little stupid, having been in Whitehaven almost two weeks already and not knowing what Remus does for a living. To be fair, it hasn’t come up in their very brief conversations yet, and Sirius has been actively avoiding the whole topic of Remus with James and Lily. “I’m going to go on a limb and assume it’s got something to do with books.”
Remus sets three plates on the table and smirks. “Very funny.” Sirius takes the plates and spreads them out, then takes the offered glasses and water pitcher and sets them on the table as well. “But I guess you’re right. I’m a professor at the University of Cumbria. Creative writing and 21st century poetry.” Remus picks up the plate of sandwiches and brings them over with a shrug. “It suits me. They’re online courses, which requires me to actually be present on campus maybe twice a semester. And it gives me time for my own writing, which is more than I could have asked for.”
And that, right there, is somehow the least surprising thing Sirius has learned about Remus so far. Because it fits. And it’s not surprising to learn that Remus is a writer and a teacher, but it still fills Sirius with such warmth he isn’t sure he has ever felt before. It’s an unsettling feeling, but in that way good news are, the way a new song can hit you deep in your soul quite unexpectedly.
Harry gets a permission to read his book at the table, and he props it against a flower vase as to not get crumbs all over it. Sirius makes sure he remembers to wipe his fingers on a napkin before turning a page, and when he turns back to his own plate, he sees that Remus has served him a sandwich and filled his glass with water. It’s the smallest thing in the world, really the bare minimum of being a human being, and Sirius wonders if there will someday be a time when those tiny gestures won’t make him flush and jittery.
“So, what do you write?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation flowing to ignore the way his body reacts to literally everything.
Remus hums (he really does do that a lot), rearranging the tomatoes on his sandwich. “Well, it’s not a big accomplishment like a Grammy or a world tour or anything, but my novel was just picked up by a publisher. It’s coming out next spring.”
People do that sometimes around Sirius, comparing their own wonderful accomplishments to his when no one asks them to and there is absolutely no need or reason to. It bothers Sirius a lot. The last thing he ever wants is to make someone feel bad about something they’re clearly passionate about and have probably been working tirelessly toward, sometimes for years. He frowns. “Please don’t compare your accomplishments to mine. It’s a different accomplishment – I'm never going to be able to write and publish a novel. You did that. That’s incredible. Congratulations.” He hopes Remus can tell how sincere he is. He almost wants to reach out and squeeze his hand to make sure he gets it.
He doesn’t. Remus looks at him and smiles, and then he wishes he did.
“Thank you.” Remus takes a sip of his water, almost like he’s trying to hide his face. His cheeks look a little pink and Sirius thinks he looks quite lovely.
“Maybe I’ll read it when it comes out.”
Remus smiles again. “Nice of you to say, but don’t feel obligated to.”
“No, I will.” And he will. Sirius knows he will. No matter where he will be when that book comes out, he will make it a priority to get his hands on it and read it. He wants to know what Remus’s words look like on paper, what he writes about, how he puts sentences together inside a story. “And the online courses? What do you do in 21st century poetry?”
Now Remus is definitely blushing, and Sirius wants to know why. “Well, in the class I currently have we mostly read out and dissect texts from today’s big names. Fleur Adcock, Joyce Carol Oates, Carol Ann Duffy, you know.” Sirius nods. “But also songwriters. Because a lot of people like – well, like you, for example, are perfect examples on lyrical storytellers, and isn’t that how stories were passed on through generation after generation, in a song, long before humankind had written a single word?” Remus shrugs, and all Sirius can do is stare. “I just think it’s fascinating.”
Sirius takes a bite of his sandwich and chews on it. He feels a little lightheaded. It’s one thing to know you have fans who like to listen to his music and post about them on social media, and another thing entirely to know someone could actually use his lyrics in a university class to teach people about 21st century poetry. “You – you use my lyrics in your class?”
Another hum from Remus as he finishes his bite, and a nod. "I wouldn't go so far as to say I’m a massive fan, really, since I’ve never been to your concerts or anything. But I do have to admire your use of the English language.” And that’s a lot, coming from someone who is so very good ad said English language. Sirius doesn’t have time to feel floored when Remus is already smirking at him, his eyes having a new kind of shine in them that Sirius really likes and wants to capture in a way that will help him remember it forever. “I also really hope all the literary references are real and intentional and not coincidences."
Sirius knows that people read and reread and overanalyse his lyrics to a point where nothing makes sense anymore. He knows there are people who have probably cracked the meanings of many of his most vulnerable tracks, people who have gotten things terrifyingly right, because he does write his heart out in those lyrics, he does pour his hopes and his dreams and his very soul into them. But there are moments when he’s writing and the thinks of something especially clever, when he’s taking something that he himself read or heard and felt impactful and twists it around to fit his own stories, and those are the lines he wishes people would talk about the most.
And those are the lines that, by some chance, a literary professor in a cottage in Whitehaven has focused on and appreciates. Something inside Sirius feels like it’s about to burst. “Well, I do read quite a lot, when I have the time. And my take on things may not always be the most academically focused, but art is always subjective. So, I think my interpretation is as good as anyone else’s, but we can discuss that sometime, I think. If – if you want.” He takes a careful sip of water. “I think I’d like that, actually.”
Remus looks at him for a long moment, during which Harry finishes his sandwich and starts humming the theme song to Postman Pat while still reading his book. “Sounds like a date.”
Sirius laughs a little, startled. “Don’t push it.” Remus just smiles.
And he doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but as Sirius smiles back and then turns to his own sandwich, he can feel himself give in, because Remus really is something else. And that’s a fact that’s either going to ruin Sirius, or it's going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him in his life.
Chapter 4: October, interlude
Summary:
Things are left unspoken, and nails get painted.
Notes:
This chapter took me a little too long to write, given how short it is. It really is a bit of a filler chapter, but I do like it and think it's necessary. If it helps any, the next chapter will have a scene that started this whole thing way back when, so stick around for that!
I want to thank all of you for commenting and leaving kudos for this story, it really warms my cold dead heart every time I see a notification.
Also thanks E for pushing me into finally writing this story and being as enthusiastic about it as I am.
Chapter Text
What Happened to Sirius Black? Here’s What You Missed
Fans Say Sirius Black Is No Longer Active on Any Social Media
Where Is Sirius Black?
Sirius Black Disappears After Forced Coming Out
Fans Gather Outside Black’s London Home in Show of Support – The Popstar Is Nowhere to Be Seen
Black Cancels All Appearances After Confirming Rumours in Tweet
**
By the start of October, Sirius has eased into the idea of running around town without James as a buffer. The winds are getting colder, and at some point, Sirius is going to have to settle for shorter runs, so he’ll have to make the warmer weather count. James still sometimes joins him, but running has always been more of a solitary thing for Sirius, since it gives him the time to think and sort out his thoughts.
He quickly learns that wearing headphones (he ordered new ones, this time using Lily’s name, and she was less pissy about it than James) helps when encountering people on his paths. People leave him alone and won’t try and start a conversation, which he really appreciates. He also starts recognising people he sees almost every day at the same places at the same time, and after a while he starts returning their smiles and small nods. It’s easier to let his guard down when he has something else to focus on, and so he listens to old episodes of his favourite true crime podcasts as he maps the new corner of the world that he resides in for the time being.
For the past few weeks, Sirius has been actively dodging Marlene’s calls and texts – not because he doesn’t want to talk to her, but because he knows what she wants to talk about, and he doesn’t want to even think about that. She knows that he’s well and safe, she knows where he is, and that’s enough for now. I has to be. Sirius knows very well that this is not a susainable solution by any means, not if he still wants to have his career in music (and he really, really does), but every time he thinks about making any real plans to return to London his heart rate picks up painfully and his palms sweat.
(What’s new about this is that now every time he starts having a panic attack his brain conjures up an image of Remus at the Potters’ dinner table, patient and calming. It’s new, but it helps a little. Sirius isn’t ready to think too much about that, either.)
Marlene doesn’t quit, though, and even now Sirius has three unopened messages from her waiting in his phone, all from last night and this morning. He knows he’s being an absolute nightmare as a client, and Marlene deserves more than this, and he’s already working on putting together a massive thank you gift consisting of theatre tickets and expensive bottles of wine. He just knows that, for a little while longer at least, he needs to focus on what’s best for him.
As he’s returning to the Potter residence, Sirius takes a left turn where he usually takes a right, making his run last a little longer. It’s not until he recognises a familiar face across the road that he realises he has ended up very close to Remus’s cottage.
Remus is walking home from somewhere, dressed in his usual comfortable jumpers and warm scarfs. He has a beanie in his head, and his hair curls out from under it in a way that is positively delightful, making Sirius smile and slow his pace to a walk. His eyes zero in on the wooden cane Remus is leaning quite heavily on and he frowns; he hasn’t seen Remus with a cane before, and his mind automatically goes to a scary place where he imagines all kinds of terrible reasons why Remus would need one. When Remus hears him approaching and turns around and his face instantly breaks into a soft smile, Sirius decides that the cane doesn’t matter right now. It would probably be quite rude to ask, anyway.
“Hi”, he says, hating a little that his voice comes out all breathy and strained. His only excuse is that he’s been running, but anyone with eyes can tell that’s not really it.
Remus’s smile grows when Sirius slows his walking to match his moderately slow pace. “Hi yourself.” He gives Sirius a quick once over, taking in the workout clothes and the running shoes. “Oh my god, you’re one of those people.”
“What people?”
“Who enjoy things like running.”
Sirius barks an unexpected laugh, almost stumbling over his own feet in the process. “Well, it was either this or to keep smoking, so I think we can both agree that this was the winning solution.”
Remus laughs too. It’s a very nice sound. “When you put it like that, yes. I have to agree.” The wind picks up a little, making Sirius shiver in his thin clothes. He hides it the best he can, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible. “Did you have a nice run?”
For the rest of the way to Remus’s cottage they talk idly about the routes Sirius has been running. It almost feels like they’re both avoiding what they actually want to say, instead just keeping the conversation neutral and pleasant. There has been a wavering thing between them for weeks now, like a thread pulled too tight to the point where it might snap. But the tension doesn’t feel explosive to Sirius; it’s more of a gentle yet insisting pull towards Remus, one that he can’t ignore for long.
(It’s one of the things he has been avoiding, but lately he hasn’t wanted to avoid it quite that much. If he’s being honest, there have been quite a few dreams lately. And day dreams. And maybe he has played made up conversations and situations over and over in his head, each of them sweeter than the last. Maybe. When they reach the gate at Remus’s front garden and the conversation still lingers, Sirius decides to do something about it. Soon.)
“Well, I walk here almost every morning”, Remus says in explanation to where he has been walking this morning, that funny little smile on his lips again. Sirius feels himself matching it. “Being so close to my place and all.”
“Hmm.” The stare is intense. It makes Sirius’ belly flutter and his heart stutter. “That’s good to know.” Is it just the morning light, or are the apples of Remus's cheeks turning red? “Maybe I should run this way more often then.”
There’s a pause, during which there’s another cold puff of wind, reminding Sirius that he has sweat drying on his skin and he’s actually freezing. “Maybe you should.”
For a moment there, Sirius thinks what would happen if he invited himself inside. How Remus would likely offer him a cup of tea from his impressive selection, and probably even a change of clothes. Sirius imagines what it could feel like to wear one of the warm jumpers. Do they smell like Remus? What would Remus smell like? Sirius imagines black tea and oatmeal cookies and the herbs from his garden and his head spins.
Clearing his throat, Sirius takes half a step backwards. “I - I think I should go now. Family breakfast.” It’s not really a lie, but it’s not the whole truth, either. Sirius just needs to get away from Remus before he does something stupid.
Remus nods. “Yes. Harry likes those. Better not be late.”
“Right.” Remus leans on the gate, and Sirius takes another step. He doesn’t want to go, and yet he doesn’t want to stay. “Have a nice weekend, Remus.”
The gate creaks open, making a sound that startles the both of them. And still Remus keeps looking at Sirius with those eyes that are not like any other eyes Sirius has ever seen. “You too, Sirius.”
“Bye.”
The low laugh that Remus lets out is fascinating. “Bye.”
Sirius almost has to shake his head like a dog to make himself turn around and run the rest of the way home. There’s something about Remus that makes his body tingle all over, makes his steps lighter than air and his smiles easy. He hasn’t felt like this about anything in years, and even then he doesn’t think it’s ever been about another person before. It scares and excites him in equal measure, and he’s almost laughing again when he walks past Lily in the stairs and straight into the guest bathroom.
When Sirius comes out of the shower, James and Harry are elbow deep into a dough that Sirius doesn’t recognise but has no doubts will taste amazing. He finds Lily in the living room, browsing through a shoe box full of different shades of nail polish.
She holds up a deep forest green in question. “Do my nails for me? I’ll do yours.
Sirius doesn’t have to be asked twice, and soon they’re both sat on the floor around the coffee table, rummaging through the different options. For his stadium tour, Sirius has been sticking to darker colours, mostly black and burgundy nails, but he’s still in a high from his (flirty?) conversation with Remus and feels himself gravitating towards the soft lilacs and pinks. He chooses one that’s more of a light purple, then looks for the base coat while Lily debates between two different greens.
“Did you have a nice run?” she asks once she finally settles on the darker one that Sirius has to admit is his favourite colour on her, and it's a little eerie that she chooses the exact same wording as Remus did not even an hour ago.
“Yeah, I did. Bumped into Remus on the way back.”
Lily sets her hands on the table in front of Sirius, and he gets to work with the top coat. “Yeah?”
“Mmh.” Sirius can feel Lily’s eyes on him and keeps his eyes down, trying to look as casual as possible. He knows he’s fooling absolutely no one. Lily has known him for forever, and even though they haven’t seen each other as much as they would have liked to in the past few years, she’s still one of his best friends and knows him better than almost anyone. So, Sirius merely sighs a little and gives up. “So, like, Remus – “
“Is totally your type? I know.”
Sirius almost drops the polish he’s holding. Lily laughs, and Sirius can feel his ears turning pink. “Not what I was going to say but... yes.” He avoids looking at Lily and instead just focuses on her nails as she keeps laughing. “Oh, shut up. What’s the deal with him, anyway? James is being weird about it and just said that you essentially brought home a stray.”
And Lily laughs again, but doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, like she’s trying to find the words to really explain Remus’s meaning to their family. By now Sirius knows it’s not a clear cut thing, not a short story at all. He just wishes he knew the story even a little bit.
“He’s Remus”, Lily says, exactly as cryptic as James was that first time he asked. “He’s very near and dear to my heart, let’s just say that, and we may not have known him for long, but we have been through a lot together.”
It bothers Sirius that she’s hiding something, but he can also understand not wanting to share everything. God knows he has plenty of secrets himself, many things he doesn’t want to share with just anyone, even with Lily, even with James. He wonders when that happened, when he started having thoughts and experiences outside the almost codependent brotherhood he’s shared with James since he was a child. It wasn’t an intentional shift, he doesn’t think, more of a natural progression of leading so different lives.
If Sirius ever returns to London and to his job (when, he reminds himself, not if), he promises to himself he will be better at keeping in touch with his family. He doesn’t want to drift any further away from them. He wants to stay a part of their lives, Harry’s life, the new baby’s life. And – and yes, Remus’s life. Might as well admit it, even to himself.
“I saw he sometimes favours his right leg.” He doesn’t mention the cane. Chances are that with Lily the cane is implied.
A simple yes is all Lily says to that, no looking up from where Sirius is focusing on the first colour coat on her left pinky. Sirius tries to word his question in a way that would help Lily understand he’s not really fishing for information as much as being genuinely concerned. Because he really is. “Is he okay?”
Lily hums, tilting her head to the side in thought. Sirius can appreciate he way she clearly wants to protect her friend from unnecessary gossip, even if it is with Sirius. “Remus has chronic joint pains. They come and go, and the worst flare ups focus on his right hip and knee. I think that’s about as much as he would want me to tell you.”
“Fair enough.” Sirius knows a thing or two about wanting to lead the narrative about himself. He wouldn’t want anyone to feel like he has been in the past weeks. He feels a little guilty even wanting to know, but he keeps telling himself it’s coming from a place of caring, not from a place of malice. (It doesn’t help as much as he wants to.) Instead of continuing to pester Lily about Remus – or giving her a chance to start questioning him about Remus, which he knows she will do eventually – he changes the subject to an equally stressful one. He keeps his tone purposefully light even though he knows Lily will see right through it.
“So, what’s the word around me these days? I know you’ve been reading online.”
Lily looks up, blowing on her nails to dry them faster and furrowing her brows in concern. “I’m not sure it would really be healthy for you to read what they’re saying about you right now.”
“I know it’s not, that’s why I’m asking you.” Sirius isn’t sure he actually wants to know, but he does know that he can’t keep burying his head in the sand forever. This might be the best small step towards any kind of goal. “I know you’ll give it to me as it is but will leave out the more colourful details. It’s just that Marlene keeps bombing my phone with question marks and I have to tell her I have at least some kind of a plan, and I’d rather form that plan based on some kind of facts.”
Lily doesn’t say anything right away, just keeps looking at him and thinking so hard that Sirius can almost hear the clogs turning in her head. Sirius finishes the first coat of colour in both of her hands and gestures for her to give the right one back so he can check if it’s ready for the second coat, all while Lily just stares and thinks.
“Well, most of you fans seem to be on your side, if there are sides to take”, she starts, her voice carefully neutral. “The most vocal ones are mad at the press for joining in on fan speculation about someone’s sexuality in the first place, and that’s another huge can of worms they should not have opened. It seems that Gideon has been tight lipped about your involvement even after your tweet, which I think is very good of him, but if you’re going to issue a statement it might be on to address that whole thing, too.”
She pauses there, biting her lower lip and waiting until Sirius looks up from her nails again to meet her eyes. “And you should let Marlene know that I know you have other people to do this for you, but that if you want my help in handling any statements as someone who knows you and who you trust, then I’m here for you, no questions asked.”
It’s mostly what Sirius has been expecting, if a little tamer. He thinks Lily might have left out more than a small part of controversy, which he is thankful for at this point; like she said, it would not be healthy for him to know the ways people are putting him down online. He has to stop his mind from starting to wonder what she might be leaving out, focusing instead on her remark about Marlene. She has good points about the statement (which is not surprising, given her education as well as her work as an editor in chief, even if it is only on a local paper), and Sirius is very touched by the suggestion that she help him with it. He didn’t even think that would be a possibility.
Sirius smiles and starts the top coat on Lily’s nails. It’s been a while since he painted anyone’s nails himself, but he’s really happy with how they turned out. “Thanks, Evans. Knew I could count on you.” He pauses and then grins as a wild idea enters his mind. “And hey, I think you’d like Marlene. Maybe I can convince her to take a break, too.”
Lily, always excited to meet new people and friends of her friends, grins back at him, and Sirius makes a mental note to suggest the idea to Marlene once he gets the courage to actually answer any of her texts or calls.
It’s then that Harry comes running from the kitchen, still covered in flour and hair sticking out even more than usual. He’s quick to spot the different shades of nail polish on the coffee table, and he stops on his tracks with a dramatic gasp. Sirius almost expects him to clutch his pearls. “I want pretty nails, too!”
Sirius chuckles and closes the bottle of top coat. “Okay, buddy, go wash your hands and then you can pick a colour.” Harry runs off again just as Sirius thinks to continue, “And wash your face, too!”
Lily leans back on the front of the couch, letting her hands still rest on the edge of the coffee table and admiring the new colour. Sirius arranges the brightest shades available into a row of rainbow, knowing it’s likely Harry will have an easier time picking a colour if the choices are a little more limited.
Before Harry comes back, Sirius clears his throat and avoids Lily’s eyes as he asks, “So, like, if I maybe wanted Remus’s phone number –”
“Don’t worry”, Lily says, laughter clear in her voice, and Sirius can tell he’s blushing like crazy, “he already asked me to give it to you. I’ve just been waiting for you to admit you want it.”
Sirius kicks her knee as she keeps laughing, then prepares himself mentally to paint a toddler’s nails.
Chapter 5: November, part I
Summary:
Feelings are thought about and almost discussed. Harry eats his veggies. Oh, and hey, Sirius and Remus sitting in a tree...
Notes:
Okay, folks, this chapter includes the catalyst to the whole story, so it's a bit of an emotional one for me. But we're nowhere near the end, so don't worry. There's a lot of things going to happen that I'm extremely excited about.
Thanks, E, again for the feedback and support.
Comments give me life, the longer the better honestly. Do your worst.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“I know it’s not a sustainable solution, Marlene. Believe me, I know.” Sirius brushes his hand through his hair, catching his reflection in the still dark window and grimacing a little. “I just need time. I can’t – you can’t expect me to come back to London like everything’s fine.” Nothing about his career is fine right now.
“Yes, I know that, and I’m not asking you to come here right this second. All I’m asking is that you give me an estimate. Something to make my job just a little bit easier.”
Sirius appreciates Marlene a lot. He does. And he knows she’s just doing her job, and doing it the best she can in a situation that has to be a whole different kind of hell to her than it is to Sirius. But part of him just wants to slam the phone to the wall. He’s had time to calm down in Whitehaven now, get away and start feeling safe, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to start making any kind of plans to return yet.
“I don’t know”, he answers her honestly and can almost see her pulling her hair in frustration. But she doesn’t say anything, just lets Sirius work this out on his own, and that’s why Marlene is his friend as well as on his payroll. “I need at least a few months still. I know it’s not ideal, but.” He takes a deep breath. “Marlene, I’m so exhausted. I know this isn’t fair to you, but I really just can’t deal with this right now. Please understand that.”
“I do understand that, that’s not the problem.” She sounds just as tired as Sirius feels. And kind of sad. Sirius hates that he’s the reason. “Okay, I’ll keep you off all rosters until the new year, and I’ll check with you every few weeks. Don’t disappear on me, okay? I’d hate to go over your head and spam James’s Instagram DMs.” Sirius lets out a small laugh, and it sounds a little wet to his own ears. He wonders if Marlene can hear it, too. “I need to know you’re okay. Just a text every now and then, that’s all I ask.”
“Yeah. Okay, I can do that.” He’s about to hang up the phone, but then changes his mind. “Oh, hey, could you do me a favour? There are some things I need from my flat. I – well. I left in a hurry.” Understatement of the year. “I wouldn’t ask, but you’re quite literally the only person in London that I trust right now.”
It’s not that Sirius misses a lot of things, and he could just buy most of what he needs. But his note books, and his favourite comfy hoodie, and his house coat – those are things he can’t replace. And if he’s already asking Marlene to send something, he might as well ask her for extra clothes so he doesn’t actually need to build his wardrobe from scratch.
Marlene sighs, but Sirius can hear her writing something down on her note pad. She always did prefer to use pen and paper when taking notes. “Send me a list. And James’s address.”
“Thank you.”
When Sirius does finally end the call, he notices a message waiting for him from Remus. His heart rate picks up instantly and he can feel the smile that spreads on his lips. It’s been like that for the last three days, ever since he got Remus’s number. They have been messaging back and forth constantly, little things and small things, and yes, flirting, a lot of flirting. They are going to meet up this morning for a walk instead of Sirius’ normal run. Remus wants to take him to the Fairy Rock and explain the lore around it, and at this point Sirius would quite literally follow him anywhere.
It feels good to flirt. Not only because of the possibility of more than flirting, but because Sirius has always liked to flirt. It’s fun and uncomplicated, just what he needs right now, and this time it’s Remus so it’s about a thousand times better than any flirting he has been doing in the past few years. Remus definitely knows how to flirt, and he’s good at it – or at the very least he’s very good at flirting with Sirius. Sirius has been giggling to himself like a thirteen-year-old more times than he can count since Saturday, jumping at his phone every time he hears the messaging app chime, having dreams that – well, dreams so lifelike and wonderful he has to remind himself when he wakes up that he is not, in fact, in a relationship with Remus. (Yet. He really hopes there’s a yet at the end of that sentence.)
Sirius opens the message, but when he reads it, the smile drops from his face and something cold settles in his stomach.
From: Remus: Hi, I’m so sorry but I’m going to have to cancel our walk this morning. I’m having a major flare up today, can’t really get out of bed. Should be all better by Thursday!
To: Remus: oh! i'm so sorry. anything i can do? do you need to go to the hospital?
It takes Remus three minutes to see the message, and another two to type out a reply. Sirius sits on the edge of his bed the whole time, keeping his eyes on the phone screen and picking on the skin on his wrist nervously.
From: Remus: No, I’m alright, this happens sometimes. I have heating pads and prescription pain killers for this exact reason.
From: Remus: Thank you, though. <3
Sirius quickly sends a small heart of his own back, then finally closes the screen with a heavy sigh. It’s one thing to know Remus has chronic joint pains that make him rely on a cane sometimes and another thing entirely to hear he literally can’t get out of bed. Sirius is worried, even though he knows Remus well enough by now to know that he absolutely wouldn’t want anyone to worry about him and even though he realises he technically has any reason or any right to worry. Remus has been dealing with this thing for a long time, and Sirius has only known him for two months.
With a sigh, Sirius changes into his workout clothes and goes for a run anyway. He doesn’t take his headphones with him this time, instead letting the sound of gravel and wind be the soundtrack to his thoughts. The cold air clears his head and running releases the restless energy from his muscles, and he doesn’t even really mind the rain that starts pouring down halfway through his usual route.
The intensity of the way Sirius has fallen for Remus (and yes, he has fallen for him bad, and it’s scary and beautiful and stressful and wonderful) is almost alarming. He did not come up to Whitehaven with the thought that he would meet a local guy and fall hopelessly in love and find the true meaning of life, but he can’t help if some of that happens to him without asking. He almost laughs at the idea of his life turning into a general plotline of a mass market romcom.
Out here, alone with his own thoughts, Sirius finally lets himself think about Remus. Remus with his slow soft smiles and soul searching eyes. Remus with quick wit and thought out answers and a hundred and seventeen poetry books. Remus, who cares deeply and enjoys gardening, has impressive upper body strength but weak joints, who listens to music for the stories and flirts with Sirius through texts of poetry and long walks and historical facts. He’s nothing like Sirius would have expected and everything he could ever dream of, all wrapped into a package that is incredibly pleasing to the eye and beautifully responsive to Sirius’ own advances.
Of course, there’s the thought that what if Remus isn’t being genuine. Sirius honestly hates that it’s always there, in the back of his mind, when he meets new people. It’s the reason he’s always so hesitant to get close to someone, and why Marlene insists on NDAs. He knows it's for his own good, to give himself a peace of mind more than anything, but it’s exhausting and makes him feel like a dirtbag every time. But the doubt is there, whispering nasty things in his head, and it’s almost impossible to shut it out.
Remus is different, though. Sirius knows it, but more importantly he can feel it in his gut. Not only is Remus already an integral part of his close circle of friends and Sirius knows James is a very good judge of character but there’s also nothing Remus would gain from being this kind and getting to know Sirius. He must know Sirius would not take betrayal lightly, smart man that he is, so what would his endgame even be? And given everything Sirius has gotten to know about Remus so far, playing the long game and staging all this up just to then – what, leak everything to the press? It doesn’t seem like something he would do.
No, after thinking about this over and over again in these past weeks, Sirius is convinced Remus is nothing but genuine in anything he does, and that includes the flirting. And that just makes him all the more appealing, and Sirius is highly convinced that it is now high time one of them did something about the thing that’s growing between them.
And so, when Sirius gets back home, he barely even kicks off his shoes or takes off his rain soaked jacket before frantically looking for James and finding him from the breakfast nook reading something from his tablet.
“James, I need to know how to make your mom’s vegetable soup.”
Looking up, James looks incredibly confused, his glasses slipping down his nose in a way that would be comical if Sirius could properly appreciate it at this moment. “What soup?”
“The soup!” Sirius exclaims, the adrenaline still rushing in his veins. He’s all kinds of jittery now that he has made his decision, and to make his plan work he really, really needs this soup, which means he needs James’s help. “The one she always made when we were sick. The one that tastes like a warm hug.”
James just stares him for a long moment before letting out a laugh, a little startled. “Sirius, I don’t think Mum has ever cooked a meal in her life She goes to the deli for the soup. What’s going on?”
Sirius takes a deep breath, then explains the situation to James as best as he can. But as he recalls the message he got from Remus this morning, he finds himself spiraling again into that panicked and anxious headspace he was in earlier, only this time it feels a hundred times worse. He gets fixated on the idea of the soup, the one he remembers from long miserable days spent in bed down with fever and associates with family and the feeling of being safe and looked after. He’s convinced that if he brings Remus that soup it will help, maybe not with the joint pain but in other ways.
“Remus is all alone in that cottage, and no one should be alone when they’re not feeling one hundred per cent, and I don’t know how I can help but the soup always helped me and I just know that if I bring him that soup it will help him and I don’t know how to make it so – “
James stops him by standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Okay. Sit down. Have a cup of coffee and some toast. I’ll see about making some soup.”
Sirius does as he’s told and sits down at the breakfast table, his breathing ragged and his heart rate through the roof. After what feels like an hour and yet not long at all James sets down a cup of coffee in front of Sirius, then pries open his fists and places an ice cube on his palm. The cold helps fast, the shock on his warm skin forcing his heart rate to slow down enough to ease his breathing and stop him from picking the skin on his wrist again.
While he does that, James pours almond milk to his coffee and prepares him a toast to eat when he’s more confident he won’t choke on the crumbs. James is so much like his mother, he has the same kindness and same affinity to care for people. Sirius feels his throat close up a bit. He misses Euphemia Potter like crazy, and it’s driving him a little mad that he won’t see her before the holidays. But James is more than an adequate substitute, and when Sirius looks up from his hands it’s easy to smile at the face he knows better than he knows his own.
James smiles back at him, gentle and sunshine-y but a little bit worried, too. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do”, he says, and even if he’s often a carbon copy of his mother, this attitude right here he got from his father, no question about it. “I’ll make you some soup to take to Remus. But the one condition is that you tell me what’s going on in your head.”
And maybe that’s what Sirius should have done in the first place. That’s what he and James have done since the beginning of time, shared thoughts and bounced ideas off of each other without a filter. The fact that it didn’t come naturally to Sirius to do it this time breaks his heart a little.
So Sirius spills out everything, starting from the dinner party and his panic attack then. He talks about the deliberate wording choices from both him and Remus, about the long stares, about that feeling in his gut that tells him this is something and not just a fleeting thought. He talks about smiles and lingering silences and things he hasn’t said and thinks he wants to say. He talks and talks and follows James into the kitchen to sit at the island and just keeps talking and almost feels crazy, but the smile that grows on James’s face with each word tells him he’s not.
And James, wonderful and patient James, Sirius’ best friend James, he listens and chops vegetables and mixes a broth and makes a soup that Sirius knows won’t be the same but will still work. Hopefully. Sirius feels like he doesn’t deserve James sometimes.
“James, do you… do you remember when you first met Lily and instantly felt pulled to her and I kept making fun of you?”
James lets out a hum that Sirius decides to interpret as thoughtful and not amused. “Vividly.”
Sirius gives him a wry smile and swallows. “I think I owe you an apology. Not that – not that I think I’m in love with Remus or anything, I just.” He closes his eyes for a moment, grounding himself in the moment and the smell of the soup that boils in the pot, acutely aware of the way his heart is thudding in his chest. “It could go there, you know? Like, so easily. It’s terrifying.”
The grin on James’s lips is nothing short of triumphant. “I know.” He sets the pot full of vegetables to a low simmer, then leans on the kitchen island with his head in his hands and a dreamy look on his face. “But it’s also kind of wonderful, isn’t it?”
Sirius thinks on that while James calls Harry to the kitchen to give him an early lunch. It is wonderful, he decides, but it also makes him feel all kinds of crazy. But then again, if love doesn’t make him crazy, is he even doing it right? He’s insane to even think about this being love yet, but like he said, it’s easy to see it go that far and even beyond, and honestly, Sirius is not opposed to it. It makes him feel lightheaded, the speed his thoughts are going, like he’s only along for the ride at this point.
It doesn’t feel that bad, all things considered.
James makes Sirius drink a tall glass of water and eat a small portion of the leftover pasta he’s putting on Harry’s plate, too. “Now, what exactly are you going to say to Remus when you get there? Or am I right to assume that you haven’t thought that far ahead yet?”
As always, James is right on the nose with that assumption, but Sirius us saved from answering when Harry’s head perks up. “I want to go to Moony’s too!”
“Oh.” Sirius turns to look at him, the eager eyes and the pasta sauce all up in his eye brows. “Haz, I’m not going there to play this time. Remus is a little sick, I’m bringing him food, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s nice to help people when they’re not well”, James explains, and Sirius is once more floored by the patience in his voice, even though Harry keeps asking why about everything at least thirty times a day. He wonders what it must feel like, growing up in a house like this. He never wants Harry to experience anything else. “Like when you help by being really quiet when my head is hurting, right?”
Harry nods, but looks worried in a way that Sirius has rarely seen such a happy child be. “Who’s taking care of the chickies if Moony is sick?”
Of course, of course Harry would be worried about the chickens. Sirius shouldn’t have even thought otherwise, but honestly, he hasn’t even remembered that Remus has chickens all morning, not until this moment. He shares a look with James, who just shrugs. “Well… honestly, I don’t know.”
This seems to help Harry’s cause, as he nods again with a determined look on his face and picks up his fork again. “I will take care of the chickies. They like me, and they are not scared when I play with them.”
Sirius could say no. He could insist on going alone, if only to protect his own dignity, should things go south after all. (He really hopes things won’t go south.) He could tell Harry that he’ll feed the chickens himself and tell them hi from Harry. But the truth is, it can’t actually hurt to have Harry come with. Remus loves Harry almost as much as Sirius does. If anything, having Harry there could actually help break the ice if the conversation turns awkward. (He really hopes the conversation won’t turn awkward.)
Besides, the chickens still freak Sirius out a little. And Harry is right, they do like him – most of them, anyway.
“Very well, then, you can come with me”, Sirius decides, receiving a blinding smile from Harry. “But only if you eat all of your veggies without making faces.”
Harry turns back to his plate like he’s a man on a mission, clearly calculating the pros and cons of eating six pieces of steamed carrot and broccoli. He seems to come to the conclusion that the pros of coming with Sirius to feed Remus’s chickens outweigh the cons, because the next forkful he takes is loaded with pasta, a little bit of sauce, and half a piece of carrot.
James laughs a little, then gets up, turns off the stovetop and starts cleaning up the kitchen. “Okay, you go take a shower while the soup cools down a bit, then you and Harry can go on your little quest.” He winks in a way that’s almost annoying but mostly just makes Sirius want to duck his face to hide his blush. “I expect a full report after Lily and I come home tonight.”
Right. Because James and Lily are ging to have a late lunch and an afternoon tea with Lily’s sister’s family to tell them about the new baby and Sirius promised to stay with Harry until they get back. Sirius hates that he forgot about that, because he is so happy to do it, to feel useful while bunking in their guest room for months. And he’s still happy to do it, but he has to adjust his expectations for the day a bit, now that he remembers he has actual obligations, too.
Come to think of it, maybe it’s better to not have much expectations at all. Sirius is a bit of a pessimist, after all, and if he has his hopes up too high, he might fall apart. He’s not strong enough to handle that right now.
Sirius finishes his own plate and heads to the shower. Time to obsess over what to wear, next.
**
Sirius carries the soup in a plastic container in one hand and holds Harry’s hand with the other as they walk to Remus’s cottage, and Harry hums something that sounds like three different nursery rhymes and the theme song of Postman Pat mushed into one melody. He has to admit that his mind is not really in the moment, not the way he wants it to be when he spends time with Harry. He doesn’t know what to expect when they reach the cottage, how Remus will react or if they’ll even be welcome, but he tries to be optimistic.
“Uncle Paddy?” Harry says, cutting Sirius out of his own head and making him turn to look down at his scrunched up face. “Is Moony very sick, then?”
Sirius doesn’t know how much Harry knows about Remus’s condition, but it might be about as much as he himself does. But there’s also the fact that a four-year-old's understanding is not always the best. “Well, not sick in the sense that he’s ill. I think his bones are just aching a lot, you know.”
“Will the soup make him all better?”
Sirius hums. “Not really, no. I just hope it will make him happy a bit. That’s helpful too.”
Harry is quiet for a while after that, and Sirius keeps glancing at him as they walk. He’s been learning a lot of things about Harry lately, one of them being that Harry thinks about things a lot more than the average kid does. He must get that from his mom; Lily has always been an over thinker.
“Daddy says flowers make him happy”, Harry says then, and that’s a very James-like thing to say to a child. Sirius almost laughs but manages to keep it in as not to hurt Harry’s feelings. “Do you think flowers would make Moony happy?”
Sirius looks to the side of the road and doesn’t mention that there aren’t many flowers to choose from in November. That maybe Remus could do without a fistful of twigs and weeds in a glass jar. But then he thinks about it again and puts himself in Remus’s position, and smiles. “I think flowers from you would make him very happy, yes.”
Harry finds a substantial bouquet of various plants in different stages of decay by the time they reach Remus’s cottage. They get to the front door and knock, but just as Sirius has been predicting, there’s no answer. He half-heartedly tries the knob, but the door is locked, so their next step is to round the house and try the back door. Once in the back yard, though, Harry gets distracted by the chicken coop and runs off, once again being very careful with the gates. Sirius looks after him for a moment, extremely fond of him in that moment, before telling him he’s going inside for a moment.
The back door isn’t locked. Sirius walks into the quiet cottage and takes his shoes off out of habit, leaving them next to Remus’s wellies by the door. He sets the food container on the kitchen counter and takes a look around, but there’s no sight of Remus in the living room or the office, which means he’s in the bedroom. Sirius has never been in Remus’s bedroom in the few times he’s visited, but he knows that it’s down the hall next to the bathroom.
Sirius looks around the kitchen and makes sure not to make a mess. He finds a small breakfast tray as well as a little glass vase for Harry’s bouquet. He heats up the soup a little since is cooled down significantly on the walk over, then spoons it in a bowl and adds it to the tray. As a last minute thought, he looks through Remus’s tea collection and is happy to find chai (probably a gift from James as it is the same brand he has in the house) and prepares a cup to go with the soup. Then Sirius squares his shoulders, picks up the tray, and turns towards the hallway.
The door to the bedroom is closed, and Sirius knocks on it softly before opening it just a crack to see inside. Remus is propped up against his pillows, looking soft and cozy and – and maybe tired, but that is to be expected, and when their eyes meet, he looks surprised but very pleased.
“Hi”, he says, like seeing Sirius at his door is the best thing that’s happened to him all day, and maybe it is, and all Sirius can do is smile a little unsurely and stare.
“Um.” Sirius really should have thought ahead what to say, because now he just feels a little panicky again and can’t think of a single thing to say. “I – I brought you soup? Thought that since. Well. Since you’re stuck in bed, I’d just bring it here.”
Remus looks at the tray, then back at his face, like he can’t really look away for more than a second. God, Sirius wishes that’s what it is. “That’s very nice of you.”
And then Sirius just stands there in the doorway, holding the tray and staring at Remus as Remus stares back. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears, and he counts down from ten, slowly like his therapist taught him. He does it twice, keeping his gaze locked on Remus’s eyes, and Remus doesn’t make a sound, just looks, like he’s waiting for Sirius to say something first. So Sirius takes his time, takes a deep breath, swallows around nothing. He stands there for so long that it almost becomes uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. Remus makes him feel steady.
“Harry picked the flowers”, Sirius finally says – partly just to say something and break the silence, partly to explain the strange arrangement of weeds and a few floppy blooms. He sets the tray on the bedside table on top of all the books, not having the extra hands to move them away. “He’s out back in the garden, playing with the chicks. Insisted on coming with when he heard you were unwell.”
Remus keeps looking at him with that look in his eyes, the one Sirius feels in his bones. He’s been doing that a lot in recent weeks; just looking at Sirius like he knows him. And, just maybe, he does. Maybe he knows Sirius better than either of them knows just yet.
“Thank you.” Remus's voice isn’t raspy – why would it be, Sirius thinks, since he isn’t ill like that. He feels a little silly with his vegetable soup and chai and weird flowers, but Remus doesn’t look like he thinks Sirius is in the wrong. He just looks tired. Quite tired, actually. “Will you sit?”
Sirius does. He lowers himself carefully on the edge of the bed, since the armchair in the room is buried under what look like a thousand jumpers and cardigans. Maybe he’s never been in the room before, but it already feels like he has. There’s an air of familiarity there, like a sense of home that Remus just carries with him everywhere he goes. Sirius wonders if he’s the only one who’s noticed that.
“So far away”, Remus says, and he’s smiling, and it really does feel like he’s teasing Sirius a little bit. Maybe he is. “You silly man. Come closer.”
Remus may be aching and tired physically, but his mind seems alert enough to keep up the effortless way he’s been making Sirius feel weightless since the day they met. That’s good, Sirius thinks and wordlessly slides up on the bed, his hip touching Remus’s through the thick blankets. It’s good, because James always says his bedside manner is terrible, and he wouldn’t know what to do if Remus was sick enough to be delirious.
Sirius can hear Harry laughing outside, and then the chime of the grandfather clock in the living room. Two times. They ought to get back soon, before Harry gets hungry and grumpy.
Remus huffs a little. It’s a small noise that’s almost a laugh. “Come on”, he says and takes Sirius’ hand. “I’m too tired to get up. Come closer so that I can thank you properly.”
He tugs on Sirius’ hand, their fingers so easily laced together. The way he’s looking at Sirius doesn’t leave much room for interpretation, and Sirius can quite literally feel his heart skipping a beat.
“Well, aren’t you clever”, he smiles. It’s not a smile he would have given someone a year ago, even six months ago. He’s not sure he would recognise the smile if he were to see it in the mirror. He leans over Remus, planting his right hand on the mattress by Remus’s left side for support. The hold Remus has on the fingers of his left hand is insistent. “Very smooth.”
Remus grins. “Come here and I’ll show you just how smooth.”
Sirius has had plenty of first kisses in his life. He likes kissing, always has. It started with James, back when they were thirteen and wondering what it’s like. It continued with Kingsley, and then Evan, and then some other guys from their dorm back in boarding school, and arguably it got better each time. Then suddenly Sirius was an adult and kissing was always supposed to lead somewhere, and it got a little less exciting and more demanding and just... different. And then came fame and before Sirius knew it, he was hiding it all, finding dark corners in house parties and double checking the roads for paparazzi and talking to Marlene about who he needs to ask for an NDA.
There’s a lot of lore around first kisses – how it’s supposed to feel like, what is supposed to happen before and after and during, who I supposed to make the first move and who needs to move back first. It’s a whole show, and Sirius will admit that he has subscribed to that show for years. He’s familiar. He once ended up not going out with someone because he didn’t feel the sparks and fireworks in the first kiss.
Gideon was a great kisser. Sirius doesn’t remember much about their first one, since he might have been quite a bit more drunk than he had led on, but he remembers there being something of a spark there. He has later thought if maybe the spark came simply from the excitement of finding someone new, the stress of what if someone finds out, the alcohol in his system.
Kissing Remus is quite different. No sparks, no fireworks. Past Sirius would be worried, but this one is not, because instead of sparks there is a warmth that starts from the pit of his stomach and consumes his insides softly as the kiss continues. Instead of fireworks there’s the pressure of Remus’s hand in his, steady and familiar and grounding. Where there used to be someone new, there is now someone he thinks his soul might already call home, and that – that is where the butterflies come in.
It feels like a small eternity in the way only the best kisses do. When Sirius pulls back and rests his forehead on Remus’s, it feels like a lifetime has passed, and yet he also thinks he can still almost hear the echo of the grandfather clock. He doesn’t dare open his eyes; what if the spell breaks and this was all a dream?
But Remus feels real. He feels so real, warm and solid right beneath Sirius. He can feel Remus’s breath against his face, the imprint of their lips pressing together, and it’s real.
“That’s a nice way to say thank you”, Sirius mumbles, and he can feel Remus’s laughter before he opens his eyes. It’s a marvel to see someone’s eyes so close. Sirius wants to live in this moment forever. “I might have to bring you soup again.”
Remus smiles and kisses him again. “You know I don’t need the soup, right?” His other hand has come to cup the back of Sirius’ neck, gently stroking the skin there. It tickles. “And you don’t have to perform an act of service to get a kiss. I promise you; it was a long time coming.”
“Quite.” They kiss again, and again, and a million times, and Sirius smiles in between. “I have to take Harry back.”
“Right.”
“And I promised James I’d have dinner ready for when he and Lily come back from seeing Lily’s sister.”
Sirius isn’t sure if his regret is apparent enough in his voice. He doesn’t want to leave this room; doesn’t want to leave this bed. Remus has stopped kissing him but is still holding him close, and his eyes… they’re so bright. Sirius has never really been that into amber, but he has developed quite the fondness to it since coming to Whitehaven.
“You could come back.” The hopeful tilt in Remus’s voice makes the sentence almost a question. “After your dinner. Come back.”
Almost a question, nearly a demand. And how could Sirius ever say no to that? “Yes”, he says against Remus’s lips, “I’ll come back. As soon as I can.”
“I’ll be here.”
Sirius laughs, then finally leans back. “You better be. You need the rest.” Just as he’s about to stand up Remus pulls him into one last kiss, the best one yet. “You have to let me go now.”
“So that you can come back.”
“Yes, and so that we don’t get interrupted by a four-year-old who hasn’t stopped asking why for the last three weeks.”
Remus laughs, and it just makes Sirius want to curl up next to him for the rest of the day. It’s hard to extract himself and get up, but he does it with a promise both to himself and to Remus that it’s only for a few hours, that he will be back shortly, and Remus will most likely be asleep the whole time until then anyway.
“Bye, then”, he says from the door, and Remus smiles and whispers bye, and Sirius closes the door behind him and almost skips down the hallway back to the kitchen and the back yard, eager to leave so that he can come back.
This is it, Sirius thinks, holding Harry’s hand and smiling all the way back home. This is the feeling I have spent my entire career trying to put into words. He hasn’t felt like writing music in weeks at this point, but as he walks and thinks about Remus and the moment they shared, he starts hearing a tentative melody forming in his head.
Notes:
HOW HAPPY ARE WE
This is also just a quick PSA that the schedule is probably going to slow down a little because from this point on I have less notes and less ready written scenes. I've been on fire these past week, though, so there's hoping.
Also this is where the Taylor Swift references will become more and more glaring. I hope you have prepared yourselves.
Chapter 6: November, part II
Summary:
A lot can happen in less than a day. Harry spoils things. Sirius has anxiety but also supportive friends.
Notes:
I've updated the chapter count to a tentative maybe, but since I keep cutting my planned chapters in half I have no actual idea of the final chapter count yet. It just makes me feel better to have something other than a question mark there.
Also my asexual self is forever grateful for my friends for having lively and messy dating lives. I get so much material just from keeping up with the group chat. Keep up the good work.
As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated and they give me motivation to write chapters faster.
Chapter Text
James wants to know everything, and Sirius is working on sharing with him again, but this is still too fresh to peep a single word. Still, there are some things he simply can’t keep hidden, and one of them is the massive grin on his face all through the afternoon and during dinner. He tries to not be so obvious, first keeping Harry distracted with helping prepare dinner and then making sure Harry tells his parents every single thing he did with the chickens that afternoon.
But, of course, he should know better than to have so much faith in a four-year-old, even as clever one as Harry.
“I played with Daisy a lot, and then I gave them all food again because Uncle Paddy was talking to Moony forever and Daisy wanted to take a nap and I was bored”, Harry says, his plate still full because Sirius has kept him talking for so long. “But then when Paddy came out he was smiling a lot and being a little dummy – “
“We don’t call people dummy, Harry.”
Harry huffs. “But Daddy, he said he’s being a little dummy! He said it first so it’s okay. And he’s still a little dummy and he won’t tell why but it’s okay because he laughs a lot and I like when Paddy laughs. He sounds like a dog.”
As if on que, Sirius barks out a laugh, can’t really help it. Lily and James look at him for a moment, then share a look that Sirius doesn’t quite understand, but he isn’t even sure he wants to, given the smirk on Lily’s face when she sips on her sparkling water and tries to get Harry to focus on eating again. James, on the other hand, leans his face on his hand and stares at Sirius for a little too long to be comfortable.
“Harry’s right, you know”, he finally says. Sirius tries to act like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but he knows that James can see right through him. “You are acting like a dummy. Any particular reason you keep smiling like a moron and checking the clock every three minutes?”
“Sorry, Prongs, I don’t kiss and tell”, Sirius grins with a wink, and James gasps like he’s in a soap opera. Sirius can really see where Harry gets his dramatics from.
“So you did kiss him?”
Another wink, and Sirius raises his glass like a toast. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Daddy kisses people all the time”, Harry interjects again, mouth full of food and completely happy about it. “It’s because he likes them a lot. Do you like Moony a lot, Uncle Paddy?”
Sirius knows that James is a very affectionate person, and it makes sense that Harry would have noticed that too. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know much about James and Lily’s current relationship status; he knows they’re poly, but at least while he’s been in Whitehaven there hasn’t been anyone else with them. But Harry is very observant, and it would make sense that he would have noticed other relationships taking place in the past, even if it’s not explicitly stated to him.
And the thing is, Sirius can’t lie to Harry. He can emit facts and talk around them, but now that Harry has made the connection himself, he really doesn’t feel like denying anything. Harry is his soft spot, and he’s pretty sure he would tell that boy anything if he just asked.
“You know what, sprog”, Sirius says, smiling softly at Harry and ignoring James and Lily entirely. They’ll get their turn, once everything is a little more clear, but for now... “I think I just might.” He eats his last bite of salad and empties his glass of water, then checks out his watch one more time. “Now, if you folks don’t mind, I do have somewhere to be.”
James grins again. Sirius loves him, but the grinning is getting excessive. “Go get him, tiger.”
Sirius rounds the table and drops a kiss on Lily’s head, then Harry’s, and when he gets to James, he smacks him and then leans in to kiss his cheek. “Don’t wait up.”
He springs up the stairs to the guest bedroom to pick up a few things, and after a little thought he picks up a bag and decides to bring another shirt and pyjama shorts with him, too. He’s not expecting a lot from tonight, all he knows is that Remus wants him to come back, and he has no intention of leaving that cottage before tomorrow. He’ll be fine with just about anything, really, and if Remus just wants to read all night then Sirius will happily sit there and let him.
Of course there are things that Sirius is very much hoping for. He’d really like to kiss Remus again, for example. And talk. Ever since getting Remus’s number they have been messaging back and forth constantly, but not today. Sirius knows it’s probably because Remus has been sleeping most of the day or otherwise too fatigued to hold up his phone, which is fair, but he still misses hearing from him. Sirius wouldn’t mind just talking and talking with Remus all night long, because there are still so many things he doesn’t now and wants to ask and learn and see with him. He supposes that’s the wonderful thing about meeting someone new.
Sirius thinks on that when he turns off the guest room lights and goes back downstairs to put on his coat and shoes. There are so many firsts he gets to have now with Remus, each of them more exciting than the next. And when he thinks about it, he realises that he’s more excited about the first dates and first movie marathons and first trips together than things like having sex with Remus for the first time and everything that relates to that.
(He’s excited about that, too. Very excited, actually. But it’s different with Remus; he wants all that, but he wants everything else too, he wants more , he wants – he wants .)
“Hey.” Sirius turns at the door to see Lily there, wrapped in her cardigan and leaning against the wall by the stairs. “I’m really happy for you, love.”
Sirius smiles at her but tilts his head in question. “But?”
“No but.” Sirius knows Lily well enough to know that’s not the entire truth, and just waits for Lily to continue. “Just be kind to him. And to yourself. You both deserve that.”
There was a time, a long time ago now, when Lily would have done anything and everything to keep Sirius from even looking at one of her friends. Sirius doesn’t have much nostalgia for those days, especially when the alternative is this Lily Evans-Potter who takes him in, no questions asked, who treats him like a part of her family and wishes kindness upon him with a smile.
Sirius steps closer to her and wraps her in a tight hug. It’s the first time he can feel the baby bump while hugging her, and it’s strange but kind of amazing, and Sirius’s heart feels very full. “Thanks, Evans.” He gives her one more good squeeze, then goes back to the door with a nervous grin. “Wish me luck?”
Lily’s smile is warm and knowing. “Not really sure you need it.”
**
The cottage is dark and quiet when Sirius returns. He opens and closes the back door as quietly as he can before locking it, just in case; it might be safe here, but Sirius was born and raised in downtown London, leaving a door unlocked just doesn’t sit well with him. He only turns on the small lights in the kitchen, preferring to keep the space unintrusive and sort of soft.
He doesn’t call out. Maybe he should; and now he thinks about it too much and wonders that maybe he should have called out earlier today, too, instead of just walking in. But Remus didn’t seem to mind it earlier. (Sirius has been thinking about Remus’s face a lot today, and he has come to the conclusion that he was pleased to see Sirius there. Very pleased. The thought is exciting but also a little stressful. Sirius tries very hard to not think about living up to expectations. Not in Whitehaven, not with these people – not with Remus.) So instead, he once again lines his shoes up next to Remus’s wellies, hangs his coat up and navigates the cottage in his socks.
The floor boards creak quietly when he steps on them, so he slows his steps in hopes that will help. He has a feeling Remus is fast asleep, and if it’s so then he doesn’t want to wake him up like this. He doesn’t know yet if Remus is a light sleeper or not; if he likes to wake up early or stay up late; what he wears to bed. Sirius can feel his lips curling up into a smile when he thinks about getting to discover all those things.
Sirius barely opens he bedroom door a crack before he can tell that Remus is, indeed, fast asleep. The bedside lamp is on, and Sirius takes the book that’s laying open on Remus’s chest, marks he page and sets it on the corner of the table before turning the light off. It’s not terribly late yet, and Sirius really did come over as soon as he could. But Remus looks very at peace when he sleeps, his forehead free of wrinkles and lips slightly parted. He’s had a long, tough day, and Sirius would just rather let him sleep than wake him. He backs away from the door and closes it, returning to the living room.
He's not really sure what to do now. Remus was very clear that he wants Sirius to come back, but it feels a little weird to stay when Remus is sleeping. But what if Sirius leaves and then Remus wakes up in thirty minutes or an hour and Sirius is not there, will he think that Sirius bailed on him? He doesn’t want to do that, because he promised , and he doesn’t want to go back on any promises if he can help it – and this one is easy enough to keep.
It would be rude to just explore around the cottage without Remus there to consent the intrusion to his life, but Sirius supposes looking at the books in the shelves and tables and piles would be okay. He finds a book of poetry on the coffee table on top of a tall pile and recognises it as one that Remus had quoted only a day before. It’s nice to imagine Remus in that moment, sitting in his arm chair and flipping through the pages to find the exact line he’s looking for. There’s an empty tea cup next to the pile, too, and Sirius wonders if it’s also from yesterday or if it’s been there for longer. Remus isn’t a messy person, though, so his guess is that it hasn’t been there for longer than a day.
Sirius looks curiously around the other books, finding a lot of titles he recognises and more ones he doesn’t. He’s happy to note that he and Remus seem to have a similar taste in fiction, even if Remus’s collection is a lot more expanded than his has ever been. He picks up a few books to read their back covers, and once he finds one that interests him more than others, he brings it to the couch, turns on a table lamp and settles in.
The cottage is old and the night it getting colder, and Sirius starts to understand Remus’s fondness for cardigans. He finds one draped over the back of the couch and pulls it on; he recognises the faint smell of Remus that wafts off of it and it almost makes him swoon. He takes a moment to soak in the moment, then lies back and starts reading.
The next thing Sirius registers is a small thud, something hitting the side of the couch next to his shoulder. He jumps a little, realising he fell asleep somewhere between the second and third chapter of his book. When he looks up, he sees Remus, standing over him with a strange look on his face, cane in one hand and the other holding the hem of his jumper in a tight fist, knuckles white. All Sirius can do is blink up at him, only half registering anything.
“Have you been sleeping here?”
Sirius sits up and glances at the window. It’s still dark, but clearly early morning. “I – I didn’t mean to.” He sees the book he was reading lying on the floor next to the couch face down and closed. “You were asleep when I came back. I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed – “
“No, I mean –”, Remus looks around a bit, then at Sirius again, huffing, “you slept on the couch?”
“Um.” Was he not supposed to? Sirius isn’t sure what the alternative would have been. The conversation is very confusing and his brain is still half asleep, which makes it difficult to follow Remus’s thought process. “Yes?”
“You do know there’s a perfectly good bed in the guest room right behind that door? Or better yet, a perfectly good bed in my bedroom? Where I was?”
Sirius doesn’t quite know what to do when Remus stalks away to the kitchen, clearly not waiting for an answer either way. He leans heavily on his cane this morning, Sirius notices. It is to be expected after the day he had yesterday. He leans his cane against the side of the fridge and starts taking out stuff, supposedly for breakfast. All Sirius can do is sit there and watch and wait. When it doesn’t seem like Remus is going to kick him out any second, Sirius squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. I – like I said, I didn’t want to assume. Anything.” Remus glances over his shoulder quickly, not quite looking at Sirius, then focuses again on breakfast. “So, when I came back and realised you were asleep, I figured I’d just hang out here, on the couch. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Or know you have a guest room.”
Remus shakes his head and breaks some eggs on a pan. “No, I’m sorry. I just woke up and didn’t see you anywhere and I assumed...”
The way Remus says it, how his voice gets smaller towards the end, makes something click in Sirius’ brain and he can feel colour drain from his face and a pit form in his stomach. “You didn’t think I’d come?”
Remus doesn’t answer right away. Sirius watches his move around the small kitchen, and in another version of this morning his chest might not hurt like this. Maybe he could have brought Remus breakfast in bed. Maybe they could have worked on making it together. Some part of Sirius feels like it’s all his fault that it didn’t work out like that even though the rational part of him knows it’s all a misunderstanding. Sirius hates miscommunication. It’s caused him too many problems in his life already; he doesn’t want it to cause any with Remus.
“Like I said, I didn’t see you”, Remus says, and he sounds younger, somehow. Hurt, but it’s an old hurt that’s settled in his heart and is raising its head this morning.
Sirius wants that hurt to disappear, but he knows it may never go away entirely. God knows he has his own fair share of hurt and trauma.
“No pretending, right?” Sirius repeats the promise from the day they met, his voice so soft he isn’t sure Remus has heard him over the sizzling of the eggs before he sees him nod his head. He keeps looking at the back of Remus’s hair, wanting him to turn to look at him. “I promised I would come over later. Why would I do that if I wasn’t going to come over?” Remus shrugs. His shoulders look more tense than Sirius has seen before. He doesn’t like that. “I would have called. Or texted, at the least.”
Sirius gets up from the couch and comes closer. Once he’s standing next to Remus, he slowly, gently, places a hand on his arm, halting his movements. “It’s very important to me that you know I wouldn’t just blow you off like that.”
Something in Remus’s shoulders loosens a little, and Sirius finds it a bit easier to breathe. He watches for a while as Remus finishes frying the eggs, waiting for him to respond. It doesn’t seem like Remus minds Sirius being so close; he hasn’t even tried to shrug Sirius’ hand off his arm. Sirius soaks in the contact and waits.
“It’s just that in my experience people have a bad track record on keeping that particular promise.”
And Sirius thinks on it a second, can’t fathom how someone could do that to someone like Remus, who is so genuine and kind and thoughtful and more or less everything Sirius never knew to ask for. There’s someone out there that has hurt Remus deeply enough to make him unsure about promises , something that is such a fundamental part of any relationship Sirius has in his life. Sirius has made it a thing to keep each and every one of his promises since the day he went to live with James, and in the haze of feeling like he’s known Remus his whole life he forgot that he hasn’t known him that long. That they’ve only known each other for weeks at this point and Remus doesn’t know this about his yet.
It breaks Sirius’ heart a bit to realise that. But it also helps to know that he’s not the only person here who’s broken in unexpected places. He slips his hand down Remus’s arm slowly until he has a loose hold on his wrist, then his fingers. It takes a few seconds, but then Remus turns his hand and locks their fingers together. And Sirius is a weak man, so he just smiles, then leans closer to Remus’s side and gives his hand a squeeze.
“I won’t lie, I don’t have a lot of experience of proper relationships.” Because that’s what it is, even if it’s new and fragile. There’s no fighting it at this point. “But I like to think that you can trust me enough to believe me that I’ll always do what I say I’ll do. Because – because people have had a bad track record with me, too.”
Remus takes the eggs off the heat and turns the stove off, then pulls Sirius close for a hug. Sirius hasn’t realised how much tension he has been holding in his body these past few moments, they both have, until he practically melts against Remus and wraps his arms around him.
It’s strange, having a first hug with someone you’ve already kissed. It feels a little backwards, and a lot more intimate than Sirius is prepared for. His face heats up, but instead of pulling away he gets impossibly closer, chest to chest and toe to toe. Remus holds him tightly and it’s a comfort, and it’s a bit of a turn on, and Remus smells like lavender and soap and a little bit of salt and it’s all heavenly . Sirius has never dissected anyone’s smell like this, has never cared enough about details. Now all he can think about is that now the smell of lavender will always make him think of Remus.
“I did check on you when I came in, you know”, Sirius says quietly. Remus draws lines up and down Sirius’ spine, so gently Sirius barely feels it under the wool of the cardigan. “You were out like a light.”
Remus doesn’t make a sound at first, but Sirius can feel a little shrug, like a soundless laugh. “My medication makes me very drowsy. I think I was in and out of consciousness all day and then just crashed bad after seven.” Remus drops a kiss to his temple, and it’s a good thing he’s already leaning on Remus because his knees feel suddenly very weak. “You couldn’t have woken me up if you tried. I just wish you’d have been there when I did.”
Sirius hums in response, then leans back to look at Remus’s face. It’s a very nice face and Sirius likes looking at it, scars and all. In all honesty, he can’t even imagine Remus without his scars; in the time that they have had to get to know each other Sirius has spent a lot of time memorising them all and becoming familiar, and now they are such an integral part of who Remus is in his head and in his heart that it’s impossible to pull them apart.
Hesitating for only a second, Sirius takes one hand and lifts it to trace the tip of his finger up the long scar, starting from the Cupid’s bow and drawing it all the way to the corner of Remus’s left eye. He stops there, letting his hand rest and setting his palm against the curve of Remus’s cheek. Remus has a two-day stubble, but underneath that his skin is just as soft as Sirius thought it would be. Sirius taps his cheekbone lightly with the pad of his thumb, his entire body gravitating towards Remus’s like a flower towards the sun.
“Please kiss me, Remus.”
And Remus does, just as perfectly and beautifully as he did yesterday, but this time it’s somehow even better. Sirius leans into it, kissing back with matching intensity and relishing in the feeling of Remus pulling him even closer still. Remus must have brushed his teeth before coming to the living room that morning because he tastes like spearmint toothpaste and it makes Sirius slightly self-conscious about his own possibly terrible morning breath, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind one way or another. Like, really doesn’t seem to mind. He’s enthusiastic and all in, and it leaves Sirius breathless and needing more when they break for air and just stand there with their faces close together for a while.
(Sirius hopes he will remember this moment forever. The way he feels, what he can hear and smell and taste, the way it feels when his heart beats violently inside his chest. He has a thousand lyrics swirling around in his mind, some of his own and some from others, and a lot of them brand new he can’t wait to write down. He wants to write a hundred songs all dedicated to this little pocket of time, and he wants to keep most of them to himself and only share them with Remus. He wants to keep them theirs. He wants to keep Remus .)
“When you left yesterday”, Remus says, his voice barely above a whisper, and Sirius can feel his breath on his face. It’s intoxicating. “I thought I had dreamed you, for a moment. That I had wanted you to come over so bad that my brain simply conjured you up.” Sirius presses impossibly closer, their noses slotting next to reach other and their lips almost touching again. He closes his eyes and swears he can feel Remus smile. “But then I looked at the flowers Harry got me, and the soup you brought, and knew it was real.”
Sirius kisses him. “I’m glad you know it was real.”
Remus kisses him back. “Thank you for the soup.” Sirius doesn’t want to stop kissing him, but they trade words in between, and he likes listening to Remus talk. “It was unexpected.”
“I just wanted to do something and – and I remembered this soup that James’s mom used to get me when I was poorly.” Sirius can feel his cheeks burning, so he hides his face to the crook of Remus’s neck. He still can’t quite believe he’s allowed. “I figured there was a chance it would at least improve your mood, if nothing else.”
“Mm.” Sirius can feel the sound against his lips on Remus’s throat. “It was nice. But certainly not nicer than having you hover over me with kisses. That improved my mood significantly.”
“Noted.” Sirius has always known he has an active imagination, and the pictures his mind provides now are particularly vivid and welcome. There are still a few things he wants to talk about with Remus, concerning those pictures of hopes and dreams for their future, but right now he thinks he’d be perfectly content with just sitting down and enjoying breakfast together. He lifts his head (and maybe leaves a few kisses on his way to Remus’s neck, jawline, cheek) and raises his brows in question. “Breakfast?”
Remus smiles at him and kisses his forehead before turning back towards the counter. “Breakfast.”
Chapter 7: November, part III
Summary:
Sirius busts out the guitar and feels insecure. James is secure. Remus flirts. Harry is hysterical.
Notes:
oops did i just take like the whole summer off? kind of. i'm not that sorry because you're getting a new chapter anyway.
i hope you can see that i worked my ass off over this chapter to make it just right. there are a lot of stories i'm trying to fit into one, and it's difficult sometimes to give all the plot lines a time to shine. if that means i have to cut my chapters down into smaller chunks then so be it. (this one was once again like, three times this size, but i feel like it's better now.)
anyway, happy august to those who celebrate. remember to have water with your bottle of wine while you cancel your plans just in case he calls. bet it's crowded behind the mall.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius isn’t sure how the first time he picks up the guitar since leaving London he ends up playing cartoon theme songs for what feels like three hours, but he’s learning that he should never underestimate Harry’s puppy dog eyes. Harry saw him taking the guitar out of the case and start tuning, and before Sirius could play a single chord he was being asked if he could play his tune or that and could he maybe teach Harry, too, and is playing very hard and what happens if he turns his knob and – and yes, just doing what Harry asks and playing a few tunes is a lot easier than answering all the questions.
It’s not even like Sirius thinks playing by ear is hard, or that the requested tunes are difficult. No, the biggest issue he has is that Harry’s Postman Pat phase has been going on for a long time, and while it’s a cute show, Sirius thinks he has heard enough of it to las him for a while now.
After a while, Harry starts making up his own lyrics to the tune, and that’s where things get hysterical. The don’t even rhyme most of the time, but the sillier they are the more Harry laughs, and he laughs and he laughs until he almost struggles to catch his breath, and that’s where Sirius needs to be the adult and put an end to their little session.
“You know what, sprog”, he says, still smiling at the latest verse about Pat’s cat having a blast at school. “This has been a lot of fun, and I think I can make a decent lyricist out of you yet, but I really need to work for a bit now. But hey”, he continues, seeing Harry’s face fall a little, “how about I work for an hour and then you show me how to make hot chocolate just like your grandpa does it, alright?”
“How much is an hour?”
Sirius tilts his head in thought, trying to find a way to explain time to a four year old. “It’s, uh, maybe four episodes of Postman Pat?”
Harry contemplates the offer. “Can we put ‘smallows in the cocoa?”
“Does grandpa put ‘smallows in the cocoa?”
“Sometimes”, Harry says, stretching the word in a way that makes Sirius think that the true answer is actually not really, just like Sirius recalls from his childhood and getting cocoa at the Potters.
“Then yes, we can put ‘smallows in the cocoa, but only if you let me work for a bit, okay?”
Harry nods and shakes Sirius’ hand like a little business man, then skips out of the room humming and making little dance moves. Sirius looks after him, amazed by his affection towards his godson, then shakes his head and turns his focus back to his guitar. Even with their little agreement, he gives it half an hour at most before Harry comes bouncing back demanding his attention.
Sirius doesn’t have his trusty notebooks yet, but he has been toying with a few lyrics in his notes app on his phone and has woken up more than once in the last few nights to make a voice memo of a melody he can’t get out of his head. He’s not sure that they match yet, but he’s certain there will be enough for at least two songs if he can get into the right headspace – and if he remembers correctly, there’s something in one of his notebooks that he scribbled down months ago that’s starting to resonate with him differently now.
As a songwriter, Sirius has always written from his own experiences, from his heart. He’s been criticised over it a fair bit – made fun of, more like – but it’s not like he’s going to stop just because some haters don’t like it. It’s not even just about the creative flow, even though that’s a big part of it; he has always wanted to be authentic, and it feels more important now than it ever has to stay like that.
And here’s where things get a little tricky, when it comes to his earlier work. He still hasn’t been online since coming to Whitehaven, but he can imagine the kind of scrutiny his songs are under, his lyrics and wordings and artistic choices. He knows that there are more than a few songs where, no matter how you spin it, the love interest is a woman. And what the public doesn’t know is that each one of them is either about a friend of his, often even James’ parents and their relationship, or he has intended for the song to be offered out to a different artist. He’s not sure how it happens, but in the end, he always ends up recording those songs for his own albums and is encouraged not to correct any assumptions that the songs are about his own love life.
When he thinks about it sometimes, Sirius recognises patterns. It’s never just his own fears and insecurities that have kept him from coming out publicly, there has always been someone else echoing those ideas back to him; never straight up telling him what to do but clearly making him think one option is better than the others. It’s always done in a way that he doesn’t realise he has been influenced until well after the fact, and at that point it’s always too late to change anything so he lets it be.
It makes him ache, thinking about it now. And angry – very angry. It’s one thing to encourage him to do what he himself feels best and another thing entirely to more or less talk him into hiding himself away. One of the first things on his laundry list before he can even think about going back to London and his old life is make sure none of those people are on his pay roll anymore. He adds in a mental note to triple check his contracts again, too.
But for now, Sirius is creating. He’s creating for the first time in what feels like a small eternity, he’s jotting down notes and humming melodies along to his chords and trying out rhymes, and it feels good. He hasn’t felt a creative flow like this in a while, and while the words he writes down are a little saccharine and the melodies mostly upbeat and in minor key, he doesn’t stop. He needs to let it all out of his system, and he has accepted that a lot, if not all, of his songs from this point on will be about Remus.
It’s such a cliché, but just the thought of Remus makes Sirius smile. Leaving the cottage yesterday afternoon took almost all of his willpower; he would very much have liked to stay and cuddle Remus back to his full strength, even though he knows there isn’t much anyone can do other than wait for the joint pain to pass. They had sat down in the living room and talked for hours, about each other and the books on the coffee table, about Remus’s classes and Sirius’ relationship with James’ parents, about the weather. And when there had been a lull in the conversation Sirius had just gotten to look at Remus and know he was allowed to kiss that beautiful face any time he liked.
(There was a lot of that, too. Kissing. Sirius thinks his lips might still tingle from it, and he knows for a fact that it all showed on his face when he came back to the Potters’ yesterday. Kissing Remus is everything he never knew he was missing in all the other relationships and situationships he’s ever been in. It’s like his eyes have been opened to new colours and everything else in the world is in black and white and – yes, he writes that down.)
As things are right now, Sirius knows there are still many long talks and heavy topics in their future. He still doesn’t know the story behind all of Remus’s scars (he just knows there are even more of them under the jumpers, having felt them under his fingertips) or his issues with trust, and he hasn’t shared with Remus his family situation and why he left to live with the Potters in the first place. He knows each of those conversations are going to be heavy in their own way, and he’s not looking forward to reliving his trauma, but at the same time he can’t wait to share his pain with Remus – and in turn help ease Remus’s, if he is at all able. It’ll be a kind of bond that time can’t break, he believes, as he has never shared those things with anyone other than his closest friends.
It’s the early days, though. Everything feels new and shiny to Sirius, and he knows he’s looking at everything through rose coloured glasses. He’s not sure he likes that, in the long run. He’d much rather get to the ever after already, to know that him and Remus accept each other completely, the good and the bad and the ugly.
Sirius is about to let his daydreams get out of hand when he hears his phone chime on the bed next to him, almost making him jump. He picks it up and feels a wide grin spreading on his face when he sees Remus’s name.
From: Remus: I’m two houses away. Don’t make me wait at the door. <3
Sirius’ heart skips a beat when he looks at the time. It’s barely five; Remus has agreed to join them for dinner around seven, but it seems like he’s decided to come over early – and Sirius definitely doesn’t mind one bit. He doesn’t think he’s ever packed his guitar up so fast, barely making sure the buckles are fastened properly before setting the case down next to his bed and sprinting for the stairs.
And he’s just in time, too: when he opens the front door, Remus is just stepping up to the front porch, half of his face wrapped in a scarf and hair curling out under his beanie. He doesn’t have his cane today, which Sirius takes to mean that he’s feeling a lot better than he did yesterday. He looks just as soft and inviting and dream-like as he did the last time Sirius saw his face, but that doesn’t mean Sirius isn’t ridiculously attracted to him in less than a second. Remus comes to a stop right in front of Sirius, pulling his scarf down and moving a few strands of hair out of his eyes. It’s been raining, and the porch light reflects from each of the little droplets on Remus’s clothing. It looks like his whole body is shining.
“Hey.” And oh, his voice is wonderful. It’s just as it was yesterday, and as it was this morning over the phone, but somehow even better.
“Hi”, Sirius breathes and reaches a hand to link his fingers with Remus’s, smiling when they fit and Remus steps up to close the distance between them. “Is it totally lame and stupid to say that I missed you?”
Remus grins. Sirius thinks he looks happy. He likes learning these things about Remus, learning how he looks at different times and with different people and different thoughts. “So lame. But that makes me lame, too, because I definitely missed you.”
“Kiss me, then.”
People say it’s hard to kiss someone if you both keep smiling like loons, and while that is one hundred per cent true, Sirius finds that it’s still lovely and wonderful in a hundred different ways. Just being this close to Remus is incredible, and he knows it’s the honeymoon phase talking, but he hopes this part of it will never change. On top of that, he likes knowing that they’re both this happy to be together, that it’s not just him, that Remus likes kissing him just as much as he likes kissing Remus. It’s a cliché to say it feels intoxicating, but it does, and Sirius giggles against Remus’s lips as Remus holds his waist to pull their bodies close together and nips on his lower lip.
Sirius is about to dive in for another deeper kiss when James appears behind him and clears his throat.
“Hello, boys.” Sirius can feel his face turn pink, and when he opens his eyes he can tell that Remus is not much better. He looks so cute that Sirius almost ignores James completely and just keeps kissing Remus in their own little happy bubble. “You do realise it’s freezing out there? Please close the door.” Sirius swears he can hear the laughter in James’ voice without bothering to turn to look.
Remus seems to have a little more sense out of the two of them, and he leads Sirius inside. They close the door and hang up Remus’s coat and scarf, and Sirius lets out a happy little hum from his throat when Remus takes off his shoes and he notices he’s wearing two different patterned socks. It makes so much sense – only Remus would even own socks with both hot pink glittery bows and dancing penguins on them.
“You’re so cute”, Sirius bursts out, almost regretting it the next second but then seeing the pleased smile on Remus’s lips. “How are you so cute?”
Remus looks like he’s about to answer something (Sirius kind of can’t wait to know what; is it witty? Is it flirty? Is it smart? Is it witty and flirty and smart? His heart might not be able to take it), but James interrupts their moment again with a not so subtle cough and a very pointed nod towards the kitchen.
“Care for a drink?” he asks, and it doesn’t seem like he’s actually expecting an answer from either of them, and so all Sirius and Remus can do is follow James into the kitchen and nervously sit on the bar stools around the kitchen island while James pours three glasses of scotch. Sirius would prefer wine, himself, but there’s an aura around James that he doesn’t want to cross.
There aren’t many things Sirius can think of that James would want to discuss with them. Realistically, he knows it’s nothing too bad; any real crisis he would have already heard about as soon as it arises, and besides, James wears his heart on his sleeve and wouldn’t have had the smile for them just minutes ago if things were truly bad. And yet, the alternative doesn’t really ease Sirius’ mind that much. When James puts the bottle down and looks at them over the island, Sirius can feel his insides tying themselves into knots.
“Okay here’s the thing. I have to say this because I love both of you and someone has to give the shovel talk.” Oh. Oh no. “You”, James starts, pointing a finger at Remus, who merely raises a brow in question. It’s a little hot. A little more than a little. “Sirius is a part of my soul. You hurt him and you hurt me. I’m slow to anger but even slower to forget. Understood?” Remus nods at once, and that seems to satisfy James.
But it seems that he’s not quite done yet, as he then turns to point his accusing finger at Sirius. “And you. You break this beautiful man’s heart and”, a pause, during which James looks to the side and furrows his brows, “– well, I was going to say you’re dead to me but we both know that’s too violent for me.” Which is fair, and Sirius has to nod, even if the alternative still stings a little. He doesn’t even want to imagine losing James, especially right now.
“But Sirius. Sirius.” There’s something a little desperate in James’ eyes when they bore into Sirius’. It gives him a small pause. He’s had no idea James would take his job defending Remus this seriously. “It’s Moony. He’s one of us. Treat him as such, okay?”
One of us. That’s for sure a lot stronger than how James has been describing Remus before. One of us. Not just a friend, but a part of their extended family. It’s somewhat surprising, given that Sirius still to this day doesn’t know what went down to make Lily so endeared to Remus, what happened to sew their lives together so tightly. He doesn’t know, and he knows it’s not his place to question, but it does make him wonder. It makes him irrationally insecure, not knowing this, and he knows it’s irrational, but it makes his insides chill anyway.
And yet. “One of us” feels right. Because he is, isn’t he? Sirius looks to Remus and finds him already looking back, and oh. Remus is smiling. Barely there on his lips but loud and clear in his eyes, and there, for just a second, Sirius lets himself imagine it. The future holidays and birthdays and celebrations, the Potters and James’ parents and himself, and Remus, part of the group like that’s where he always belonged. And he fits. Not just by Sirius’ side, but with the family, with Harry, with the group of old friends and new, all together. Sirius can even see Marlene there, and Peter, and Dorcas and Mary, even if he doesn’t know them that well just yet, and it feels right.
Remus does fit. He is one of them. Sirius reaches out and takes Remus’s hand in his, giving it a little squeeze and smiling back. “You’ve got it, Prongs.”
**
The dinner feels almost surreal. It’s like any other family dinner at the Potter house, but somehow, it’s even better with Remus there. He sits next to Sirius all night, closer than he would have a few weeks ago, and holds his hand under the table between bites. He fills Sirius’ water glass without him having to ask, he steals Sirius’ cherry tomatoes off his plate, he dodges Lily’s thinly veiled inquiries with a smile and a wink and fast quip, and Sirius is in awe the whole time. It’s all exactly how he imagined, yet a little more, and while it’s new and exciting it also feels the most natural thing in the world.
Harry gets a tantrum halfway through dessert, which ends up with them all having at least a little bit of custard in their hair and Harry getting a time out before his bed time story. Remus decides to sneak out before Harry gets it in his head to demand Remus for story time, which Sirius thinks is quite smart and very well timed, and he follows him to the hall and out the door to the front porch, where the night is darker and colder than it was a few hours ago.
“I could technically walk you home”, Sirius says, leaning into Remus for warmth and grinning when Remus wraps his arms around him in an instant. “But if I did, I’m not so sure I would come back for the night, and I promised to be on Harry duty in the morning.”
Remus presses his mouth to the side of Sirius’ face. He likes when he does that. “A real shame, that is.” There’s a cold burst of wind that crosses the porch, making Sirius shiver and Remus hold him closer. “But it just means that you’ll have to kiss me goodnight now instead of later.”
It’s a little more than just a simple good night kiss, if Sirius is being honest, but it’s still a lot less than what he would have wanted to do, if they happened to be in, say, Remus’s cottage, where it’s warmer and cosier and there’s less of a chance for James to be lurking from one of the windows with a manic grin. Remus tastes like the one glass of red wine he had during dinner, and it’s impossible to get intoxicated off of that but it sure feels like that to Sirius; he feels light headed and tingly all over by the time they part for air, and he’s very tempted to just bury his face into Remus’s neck and stay there until someone needs him for something more important.
(At this moment, though, not many things could be more important to Sirius than smelling the skin under Remus’s jaw and enjoying the shivers Remus gets when Sirius kisses him there. He’s very busy cataloguing every reaction he gets. It’s been only a couple of days of this kind of physical intimacy, but he’s quite sure he has enough material for a very impressive essay. And for enough songs to fill at least two albums.)
“It is getting harder and harder to leave the longer we stand here, you know”, Remus mumbles. Sirius can feel the words on his lips where they’re mouthing at Remus’s throat. “One of these days I’ll just hide you in my pocket and take you with me and won’t take no for an answer.”
Sirius smiles at the idea. “You say that like I would object to it at all.”
Remus lets out a laugh that doesn’t have a sound. “Good to know”, he says, and Sirius grins against his skin. “Go inside”, Remus whispers then, squeezing Sirius around the waist once more before letting him go. He doesn’t step away, though, so Sirius just keeps leaning on him. “You’ll catch a cold, out here like this without a jacket or shoes.”
“You can keep me warm.”
“Not on the porch, I can’t.” With great effort, Remus finally manages to put some distance between them until Sirius gets on the tips of his toes to give him one last long, lingering kiss. It lasts just long enough for Sirius to almost forget again that they’re actually saying goodbye, then Remus finally takes half a step back. “I’ll text you when I get home, okay? Please go inside.”
“Okay.” Sirius takes one of Remus’s hands and brings it to his lips, giving his cold knuckles a quick kiss. “Good night.”
Remus squeezes his fingers. “Good night.” Then he visibly braces himself before letting go, turning around, and stepping into the cold night.
Sirius doesn’t go back inside until the last shadow of Remus’s figure has disappeared. He’s pretty sure that if his socks weren’t soaking wet, he’d just put on the first pair of shoes that fit and run after him. As it is, though, Sirius sighs, takes off the wet socks and walks to the laundry room to drop them in the hamper right away, then slips on James’ pair of house slippers. They’re soft and worn and he can feel impressions that James’ feet have left in probably years of wear. He remembers how he used to steal James’ slippers all the time when he was seventeen, until he woke up on Christmas morning to find his own pair neatly placed next to them.
As he pads into the living room, he finds James there, sitting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. When he hears Sirius coming in, he looks up quickly, then back at his screen. “Lily’s putting Harry down. Poor lad’s had a rough night.” Then he shuts the screen, puts the phone down on the coffee table next to two full glasses of wine, and pats the cushions next to him. ”Come. Have a drink with me, Padfoot. We should celebrate!”
Sirius sits down and takes the offered glass, and his mind starts to wander. The questions that he had before dinner haven’t gone anywhere, and the doubts are persistent as ever. They clink their wine glasses together, and the sound bounces around in his head for longer than it should as he tries to understand, tries to calm his own mind down before he spirals.
It’s not often that James talks about any other relationships besides Lily, but they do come up every now and then. There hasn’t been anyone that serious in years, probably since James and Lily got married – apparently starting a relationship with a married couple is a lot more intimidating than starting one with an engaged couple. They have gone on dates, and James has told Sirius about them when they called, but no one has really stayed beyond maybe a third date.
It’s a strange and a little awkward thought, but once it enters his mind Sirius has to make sure. He doesn’t know how he’ll react if the answer is – well, there isn’t really a wrong answer, here, but there is one he prefers over the others.
“Did - did you ever”, Sirius starts, but it’s hard to continue when he isn’t sure he really, deep down, wants to know. But he asks anyway. “Were you ever interested in him? Remus, I mean.”
James hums in thought, but ultimately shakes his head, making a massive weight drop off Sirius’ chest. “No. Don’t get me wrong, the guy’s fit as hell, and it’s almost like the more you get to know him the more attractive he gets, you know?” Oh, Sirius does know. “And I did flirt a little, in the beginning. But, like barely. It was clear from the start that the affection Lily was feeling for him was something fierce but one hundred per cent platonic, and neither one of us wants anything with someone the other doesn’t. It’s how we work, you know. We’re a package deal.”
Sirius knows that, has known that since before Lily and James were a thing, since before James even had proper words to describe his polyamory. It’s not really fair of him to ask, all things considered, but he knows he won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t know for sure. “And, um. Do you still...”
James laughs so suddenly that he almost snorts out his wine. “Sirius. Honey. I say this with as much affection as I can possibly muster. I am not interested in Remus, romantically or physically, not in the slightest. At this point he’s almost like a brother to me, a lot like you are. Please believe that.” He takes a new sip of his wine, and Sirius, a little relieved, takes one too. James keeps staring at him, teasing and joyful, and Sirius wants to kick him across the couch. “He’s all yours, and not just because I say so. I get the feeling that that’s how it was always meant to be.”
It feels good to hear James say that – both that he has no romantic interest in Remus and that he thinks this is the way things were always meant to be. Sirius thinks that he believes it too. It’s way too good to be a coincidence that Sirius would meet Remus here, now, like this, when he’s this emotionally raw and open and ready. That Remus is already a part of his life without him really knowing it. That when they did meet the pull towards each other is instant, even when he tried to fight it at first, and their chemistry is so good that it has to be by design.
“Thank you, Prongs”, Sirius says, suddenly overcome with emotion. “You know, for bringing him into my life.”
James grins his stupid signature grin and clinks their wine glasses together. “Mushy. You never used to be like this with anyone else. I kind of like it.” The he scoots over on the couch and pulls Sirius into his side, leaning back and sighing contentedly. “You are so welcome, Padfoot.”
Sirius relaxes against him and closes his eyes. He can hear Lily singing softly for Harry upstairs; the wind rattling the windows; the wall clock ticking in the hallway. James’ steady breathing gives it all a nice rhythm, almost like a beat to the soundtrack of the evening past. It sounds like home. He’s almost ready to drift off to sleep right there on the couch when his phone chimes in his pocket, then a second time before he can even get the phone out.
From: Remus: I’m home. I was being so serious about bringing you with me. If I wasn’t so exhausted I’d just come back right now
From: Remus: I’m almost willing to brave a hyper toddler in the morning if it means I’ll wake up next to you
Sirius blushes worse than he remembers having blushed in literal years. He curls his whole body inwards, holding his phone in both hands and grinning like a fool, reading the two messages over and over. He feels silly, but he doesn’t care; tonight has been everything to him, he’s going to relive this feeling for the rest of his life.
“That Remus?”
Why does Sirius want to hide his phone from James? He doesn’t know and doesn’t care. He keeps smiling as he types out his answer. “Mm. Got home safe.”
To: Remus: maybe we can have a sleepover when i'm not supposed to babysit in the morning
To: Remus: because waking up next to you sounds like about the nicest thing i can think of right now
Sirius sips his wine and watches as the little icon turns from delivered to read almost immediately. Then Remus starts writing a response, seemingly going back and forth for a while, if the appearing and disappearing little dots are any indication.
“You know, we have to arrange something to hang out”, James muses, smacking his lips and looking at his glass. Sirius wonders if he’s had another glass of something while he was on the porch with Remus. He hums in answer, only half listening while he watches Remus type. "You, me, Remus. We’ll invite Peter! It’ll be a blast.”
From: Remus: Just nice? Wow, I need to brush up on my flirting
Sirius smirks. “Sorry, James, that sounds like a lot of fun”, he says as he gets off the couch, finishing the rest of his wine and heading towards the stairs, “but right now I have some texting to do. We’ll plan a get together later, yeah?”
James’ laughter follows him all the way up the stairs into the guest room.
Notes:
...did i 100% forget about sirius' birthday and we're already in december in the story? maybe. let's pretend i didn't. let's pretend he had a killer time and harry baked him inedible cake.
Chapter 8: November, part IV
Summary:
A relationship is healed, another one develops, and the plot makes an appearance.
Notes:
wait, what's that? is that actual plot? oh wow
i would like to offer a special thanks to Bluerain22 because they have singlehandedly made sure this chapter got written so fast. i am not joking when i say comments give me life.
Chapter Text
The idea to make the call comes to him during Harry’s nap time and could very possibly be counted as an intrusive though, but Sirius does it anyway before he can stop himself. He takes out his phone and briefly wonders if he should wait a few hours and think about it before pressing call (he doesn’t wait) and then, as the seconds go by, he wonders if Gideon will even pick up. Does he even have a real reason to? From his end, the whole thing is over and done with; what does he care if Sirius’ entire life has been taken apart and dissected?
There’s a split second where Sirius is about to take the phone from his ear and end the call, but before he can do more than have the thought, before his muscles even have the time to tense up, there’s a few rustles and then a hesitant voice.
“...hello?”
“Gideon. Hi.” Sirius feels so awkward. He hasn’t planned this call; he doesn’t know what to do now. How do words work? “Um. How are you?”
Sirius almost kicks himself. He’s left Gideon’s messages on read when leaving London, and now, literally months later, he opens with how are you? He can hear Gideon take a deep breath on the other end of the call, and after that there’s a long beat of silence before another word is said. Sirius takes a look at the clock on his open laptop and does some quick math, wondering if he remembers the time zones correctly. Eight o’clock isn’t too early for a phone call, is it?
“I’m... I’m good, actually.” It almost sounds like there should be a question mark after the sentence. “I feel like I should be asking you that, to be honest.”
Gideon sounds the same. Sirius doesn’t know if he expected him to sound different, but for some reason it still surprises him. He can see him pacing in his apartment in Los Angeles (is he even in Los Angeles now? Sirius just assumes, maybe he shouldn’t) like he always does when he’s on the phone. He’s seen Gideon do it enough times to be able to imagine the moment in high detail without even closing his eyes. And there, for the first time in months, since the article, since before that, maybe since their whole situationship started, Sirius misses his friend.
“I’m alright”, he says, trying to keep his voice even and not let all the mixed feelings be heard. It’s a lot harder in practice than it is in theory. “There aren’t many things that sea air and James’ cooking can’t fix.”
Gideon lets a sound that sounds like a laugh. “I figured you’d be there. Not that – I haven’t said anything to anyone, just. I thought that was the most logical thing for you. As someone who knows you.”
There’s an uncertainty in the words that Sirius doesn’t like. “You do know me, Gid. Better than most, I’d say.” He picks on the nail of his middle finger with his thumb. There’s barely any nail polish left on any of his fingers. He makes a mental note to dig through Lily’s little shoe box again. (Does Remus want painted nails? Does he even like them? Does he have a preference either way? These are important questions Sirius needs an answer to.) “I’ll remind you that we’ve been friends for years. Friends share things. I’m sorry I haven’t been very good with that lately.”
Sirius doesn’t know what he’s looking for with this call – yet another thing he should have given even three seconds of thought to before picking up his phone. What does he want from Gideon? An apology? Closure? An explanation? Two of those things Gideon doesn’t owe him, and closure he needs to work on himself, it’s not something someone can just give him. That much he knows from going to therapy as a teenager. (Should he look for a therapist now? Would that be helpful? Are there therapists that are willing to see him primarily online?) Sirius is left with no actual idea, just a stupid whim, and now he’s stuck in a phone call that’s a lot more awkward that any phone call has any right to be. They used to be so natural together, it’s incredibly sad they can’t have that kind of easy conversation anymore.
“Anyway”, he says, making sure he sounds chipper and not as confused as he feels, “what part of the world are you gracing with your presence now? LA?”
“Uh, Miami, actually.” There’s a new kind of rustling sound that Sirius can’t place, then Gideon’s voice comes back, a little closer to the phone and even more uncertain than it was before. “I don’t know if you’ve heard – if, if you’ve seen online – “
“I haven’t been online since the whole internet suddenly decided that my sexuality was their business.”
It absolutely comes out harsher than Sirius means, i really shouldn’t have come out at all, and this time he does hit his head against the wall, then immediately swallows a curse and moves downstairs as to not wake up Harry too soon. He didn’t call to fight, that much he knows. Gideon has gotten quiet on the other end again, and Sirius sighs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Gideon audibly swallows. “No, it’s alright. I knew it was coming. You have every right to blow up on me.” It sounds like walks around again; Sirius takes that as a small mercy. “Will you let me defend myself?”
“There’s no need to – “
“Can I, though?” And now his voice is urgent. Sirius isn’t sure he’s heard Gideon sound quite like that before. “Because I would like to explain why now, and why with an interview.”
Sirius is a little speechless as he listens to Gideon explain and go all the way back to last December, if you can believe it, when he started talking about his coming out plan with his team. That’s an entire year, that’s just a few months after they broke things off. And sure, they weren’t exactly talking at that time, out of awkwardness and respect for the other’s feelings, and then Sirius went on tour, and that little moment they had backstage in March after one of his shows was hardly a place for such a conversation. But this has been at works for a long time. Sirius isn’t sure he was ever owed a heads up, he’s just saying that he would have liked one, and it seems like Gideon more or less had every opportunity to pick up the phone.
Turns out, it’s not Sirius who needs the phone call, it’s Gideon. Sirius just needs to listen to his reasonings and thought processes, marvelling at how his voice goes from urgent to nervous, then desperate, until finally he just sounds relieved to have said it all. Sirius is a little embarrassed by the time Gideon stops, all this time he’s been so wrapped up in his own head that he hasn’t spared a second thought to the fact that coming out that publicly was a major moment in Gideon’s life, personally and professionally. He must have been terrified – was terrified; there’s no way Sirius would have been able to make a call to an ex in the middle of all that, had the tables been turned.
Gideon might actually be one of the bravest people Sirius knows, and he’s just never realised?
“I planned everything I was going to say in advance. I went over it again and again, but in the moment...” Gideon seems to be really distraught, and Sirius is at a loss of what to do. “The situation was very intimidating, and I think I actually blacked out for a moment. I know my people went over it again before it got published, but I swear, I never intended to allude to you and throw you under the buss – “
“I know”, Sirius sighs for what feels like the fiftieth time during the same phone call. “Gid, I’m not mad, honestly. But to tell you the truth, your interview did imply that you had been involved with someone the readers would know, and you have to admit that limits the options in speculation a bit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t call to argue, I’m just saying that you have to see that, too.”
The silence isn’t long, but it’s tense. Not necessarily more awkward than before, but not that much better, either. Sirius desperately wants to change the subject, maybe even end the entire call, but he can’t figure out a single thing to say.
“Anyway, what I was going to say”, Gideon says, a little too loud. “I’m actually seeing someone. In Miami.”
Sirius can feel the pressure in his chest loosen even just from the change of topic. “Oh?”
“Yeah. He’s a producer, so not quite as high profile as you and me, but. He knows the ins and outs, and the media pressure, and he doesn’t mind. I got lucky.”
“Sounds like it.” It really does; Sirius can hear the smile all across the ocean. “I’m happy for you, Gid.” And he means it, from the bottom of his heart. Maybe that’s why he continues with, “I, um. I found someone too. Here. Someone completely different, not from our world. It’s new but,” he swallows, working around the smile on his lips. “I’ll deny I said this, but I think this might be it.”
“Really?” And suddenly Sirius almost feels like he’s fourteen, gossiping with James about the boy he likes. Maybe after all this blows over, him and Gideon can be actual friends? Long distance friends, of course, but the idea is actually very nice. “Well, I’ll be damned. He must really be something else, then.”
Sirius can’t help but let out a dreamy sigh. “He really, really is.” He looks up at the wall clock in the living room when he hears the front door open. He hasn’t realised how long they’ve been talking; James is already coming home from his practice. “You know, I hate the way it happened, but thanks to that article, a lot of things in my life are going better than ever.” James peaks his head in and smiles, and Sirius smiles back with a wiggle of his wrist, showing him he’s on the phone. James gives him a quick thumbs up before disappearing to the kitchen. “So, I guess I should be thanking you.”
Gideon laughs. “Let’s just be happy and call it a day, yeah?”
“Yeah”, Sirius grins. That much he can promise. He wanders around the living room and leans on the doorway to the kitchen, where James it taking out leftover salad. “Anyway, I should go.”
“Okay. Hey, thanks for calling? I don’t know if I could’ve ever been the one to, you know, cross that bridge.”
Sirius hums. “You would have gotten there eventually.” James holds up an extra plate in question and he nods. “We’ll talk again, yeah? Bye, Gid.”
It doesn’t escape Sirius’ notice that James’ eyebrows jump up at the name.
“Bye.”
Putting his phone away, Sirius sits down at his spot at the kitchen island. James doesn’t say a word while he plates their salads, not as he puts the Tupperware back in the fridge, and not when he puts the plates down and sits across from Sirius. Sirius doesn’t know what’s coming, and he doesn’t think it’s actually anything bad, but for some reason he’s still a little nervous about what James is going to say. It doesn’t even really matter what he says, and maybe Sirius isn’t even nervous? Bottom line is, he’s feeling weird about the whole thing now, and he just would rather not.
James seemingly manages three forkfuls of his salad before he has to open his mouth. “Was that Gideon? Did he call you?”
Sirius shakes his head while he chews on a piece of cucumber. “No, I called him.” He still doesn’t know what got into him, but at least that much is clear. The rest he’s going to need a little more time to go over again. (And again and again, repeatedly and obsessively. Because that’s anxiety for you.)
“Wow.” Sirius can’t really read James’ voice. Does he sound strange? Does Sirius care? He takes a few deep breaths before going back to his salad. “How did that go?”
Sirius takes his time to think the answer over, because he’s honestly not one hundred per cent sure. On one hand, it was a conversation that needed to happen, sooner or later, and isn’t it good that it happened now and not five years down the line after years of resentment? But on the other hand, part of Sirius wishes he could have had this conversation with Gideon face to face. He’s not great at reading people’s emotions from their voice alone, he would much rather see their faces too, and even then it’s not an exact science but it’s something.
All in all, he has mixed feelings. But how did the call itself go? Sirius thinks about the awkward start, his stupid snap about being online, Gideon’s long monologue, the ending... “You know, I think it went as well as it could have, given the circumstances.”
James hums as he chews (not like Remus hums – Sirius has started noticing all the different ways people hum these days, and suddenly it feels like people hum in a lot of different situations), swallows, then looks up at Sirius with his stupid sunshine grin. “Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? I mean, I suppose that means it could have been worse?”
And it could have been, Sirius supposes. Much worse. “Yeah”, he says poking at his food. “Yeah, when you put it like that, I guess it is good.”
And that’s that.
**
Black Industries Heir Resigns
Heir to Black Industries Claims “Fundamental Differences” Made Him Resign
Black Industries Announcement on Twitter Raises Questions and Speculation
Regulus Black Resigns from Black Industries – CEO Walburga Black “Furious”, Says Inside Source
What Is Going on with the Black Brothers?
Black Industries Accused of Not Following Their Own Inclusivity Act – Regulus Black Refuses to Comment
Here’s All You Need to Know About Regulus Black – Whole History with Superstar Brother and Old Money Heritage
Ex-Heir to Black Industries Continues Radio Silence
Will Regulus Black Follow His Brother’s Footsteps and Disappear?
**
Good news is, Harry finally seems to be getting out of his Postman Pat phase. Sirius is a little excited about that, and he knows for a fact that Lily was extremely relieved when Harry asked for an episode of Pororo instead. And then Shaun the Sheep. And Peppa Pig. The variation feels heavenly, and Sirius and James make a plan to try and introduce Harry to their favourite age-appropriate cartoons and shows from when they were little.
That’s the good news. Bad news is that Harry is a kid who is always obsessed about something. A Postman Pat obsession was relatively harmless, Sirius can admit, and it’s not that a four-year-old can really obsess over anything that can cause a lot of problems, right?
“Padfoot, Mommy said we can go to the beach to find rocks!”
“I said you can ask him, Harry. Sirius, you don’t have to take him if you don’t want to, he just got excited.”
Sirius doesn’t know how many shiny little rocks a little boy needs in their room, but apparently, it’s a lot. And it has been well established that Sirius is not someone who wants to deny his godson anything in life, so with a quick phone call and an excessive amount of time spent battling Harry into a suitable amount of clothing, his romantic walk in the woods with Remus turns into a romantic walk on a frozen beach with Remus and a toddler.
All in all, Sirius thinks, his life isn’t half bad.
“Okay, Harry, you know the rules: stay where we can see you and don’t go any closer to the water. Deal? Your mom will have my head if I get you all wet and frozen and you get sick.”
Harry visibly vibrates in his bundles of clothing, lets out a little trill, then sprints out towards what Sirius has to admit is a large amount of very shiny rocks. He looks on for a moment, a smile on his face, as Harry drops to his knees to look at each rock very closely.
“I think collecting rocks might be the cutest thing Harry has done in a while”, Remus says next to him, and Sirius grins. “And he does a lot of cute things.”
Remus looks radiant. Sirius would never say it out loud, because he knows it’s ugly sweet and he thinks Remus looks wonderful and lovely every single time of the day, but honestly? The afternoon sun filters through the clouds just right, making the freckles on Remus’s cheeks pop. The wind tousles his hair. And that smile? Sirius’ knees feel weak as he takes his hand and leans in closer.
“He really does.” Remus’s hand is warm. He’s always warm. “Hey. Thanks for doing this. I know we had different plans for this afternoon.”
“I don’t mind. I love spending time with Harry. Besides,” Remus starts walking slowly along the shore, pulling Sirius with him by the hand (and Sirius is very willing to follow), “a walk with you is a walk with you, no matter where we are.”
It’s a line. It’s definitely a line, but God, it works. Sirius squeezes Remus’s hand and can suddenly very much relate to every single one of Harry’s twirls and skips and trills. He really wasn’t lying to Gideon yesterday when he said things in his life are going kind of great. Despite the fact that he’s actively hiding from most of the world and has crippling anxiety about a job he loves, his life is really good.
“I like your nails”, Remus says, looking down at their hands and Sirius’ freshly painted burgundy nails. “It’s been so long since I even owned any polish.”
A pleased blush spreads on Sirius’ cheeks as he looks at his nails. “Lily has a ton of colours. I could borrow some from her when I come over next? Do your nails, if you want?”
Harry lets out a sudden delighted squeal, then runs to them with his tiny cold fists full of rocks that he drops to the basket Sirius is carrying before running right back. Sirius watches Remus smile and watch him go, heart thumping almost painfully in his chest and his conversation with Gideon once again playing in his head. I think this might be it.
It’s so stupid to think like this at this point in the relationship, and Sirius knows that. He’s always been very careful with his heart, almost to a fault, and a part of him wants to hit the breaks even now. But the truth is, Sirius has never felt like this with anyone, ever. And it’s not just that, it’s something more, he’s just not sure what it is yet. (He sure as hell would like to find out, though.) (He’s a little terrified but knowing would actually help a lot.) It’s something that makes his insides turn in a surprisingly delightful way when he looks at Remus, something that almost feels like an anxiety attack without the impending feeling of doom.
It sounds bad when he puts it like that, but when Remus looks at Sirius again, Sirius feels that thing in his chest expand, and then it feels less like an anxiety attack and more like the excitement he feels before a concert. Still a little nauseating, but mostly just –
Remus smiles. Breathtaking.
“We can do that”, Remus says, stepping closer until their chests touch. “I like the red on yours. We could match.”
Sirius doesn’t know when he’s learned these things about Remus, but he knows that the little tilt on his chin means he wants a kiss; knows that when their lips meet and Remus hums, it’s different from the little hum from when he tastes good food, but just as pleased; knows that if he slips his fingers under the four layers of clothing that Remus is wearing – like so – he can make Remus shiver and lean in that tiny bit closer to him, shielding him from the rest of the world.
Sirius is an artist. He’s a dreamer. He feels things with his whole chest and feels them fast . That’s what he knows, what he’s always known, and most of the time it doesn’t scare him. And when Remus kisses him like that, and is so responsive, and says exactly the right things... fine, scared is not the emotion that’s on the forefront, but it is there, bubbling a little bit, because it’s –
It’s a lot. What he’s feeling is officially a lot. But what he’s also feeling is safe, and secure, and happy in his little bubble, and content, and when the kiss ends in Harry running up to them again with his rocks, Remus looks at him and gives him another quick kiss before crouching down to listen Harry show them all off, all Sirius can do is grin and watch and touch his fingers to his lips.
**
That same feeling has Sirius floating on cloud nine all afternoon, all through dinner and into the early evening, until he’s finishing cleaning up and his phone rings and he sees Remus’s name there and the grin comes back in full force.
“Why, hello there, mister”, he says while drying his hands and hanging up the cloth again. “What’s up? I just saw you three hours ago.”
There’s a little laugh across the line. “Call me lame, but I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Sirius feels tingly all over. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice much shyer than he intends to. He feels like kicking his heels and twirling a lock of hair around his finger as he leans against the counter. “And how do you feel now that you can hear it?”
“Better.” Sirius can relate. Yes, it’s been just a few hours, but hearing Remus’s voice makes him feel better, too. “You have a very nice voice.”
“I think there are a lot of people who will agree with that.”
“I don’t mean just your singing voice, though”, Remus says. Sirius likes to think he sounds a little shy, and the idea of them both being a little shy in this silly phone call makes him suppress a giggle. “I like listening to you talk, and laugh, and joke around. You’re a very vocal person, you know.”
Sirius knows he has noticed things about Remus. Has them catalogued in his mind, loves keeping track and adding to them. It hasn’t occurred to him that maybe Remus is noticing things too. Now he really is shy. He looks down at his feet and the hole on his left sock. “I haven’t ever really thought about that, to be honest. I guess I am.”
“Mmh, and I like that. I bet you talk in your sleep, too.”
The back of Sirius’ neck feels hot, and he has to start walking to let out some of his nervous energy. How can Remus go from shy to suggestive in 0.5 seconds? Sirius loves it, loves the surprises, loves this conversation, loves – “You have a very nice voice too, you know. Extremely nice. If I didn’t have a godson whom I promised to cuddle to sleep and a pseudo brother waiting with a glass of something from an oak barrel, I would be over there so fast, just so I could hear it in person.”
Sirius stops at the doorway to the living room and leans on the door frame. James has the bottle waiting on the little end table next to the couch, two tumblers with ice cubes ready to go. Sirius isn’t a big fan of whiskey, but he knows James has started to like it and has found some smaller distillery that apparently makes a whiskey that even Sirius would like, and so he promised he’d try it. James does so much for him on a daily basis, has been since they were little kids; Sirius can do this one thing to make him happy.
“Here’s a thought”, Remus says, his voice light and seductive in a way that Sirius hasn’t really heard it before, and he really is loving it. He half wonders if it’s time to move the conversation away from the communal parts of the house. “You cuddle Harry to sleep, you have a drink with James, and then you come over and you cuddle me to sleep. How’s that?”
“Mm, doesn’t sound half bad.” Sirius takes a second look across the room at James, who is staring at his phone, and stops on his tracks when he sees the look on his face. “Hey, uh, I’ll be there in like two hours. Three, at the most. Okay? Promise.”
Remus must notice the change in energy there, because when he answers his tone is back to normal, if a little concerned. “Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah”, Sirius is quick to assure him, even though he has no idea just yet. The fact that James hasn’t looked up from his phone yet is slightly concerning. “Yeah, just, I’m going to talk to James about something.”
“Okay. See you soon?”
Sirius can’t help but smile again a bit as he mumbles close to the mic on his phone, “Not if I see you first.”
“Sirius Black, you big flirt.”
Sirius grins and chuckles as he ends the call, then flops down on the other end of the couch from James. James doesn’t react at first, just keeps frowning at his screen until Sirius pokes at his side with his toes. “What’s up, Prongs?”
“Your brother’s phone number.”
“My – what?”
James hands his phone over to Sirius, who takes it carefully like it might burn his fingers. The screen is once again open to James’s Instagram messages, and there Sirius sees the most unlikely name for the second time in a matter of months.
@regulusblack If Sirius is still there, please give him my phone number. I have things I would like to discuss with him.
What follows is a phone number that Sirius can only assume is Regulus’.
It feels strange. He hasn’t had a number to call his brother for years; now he has one and he’s not sure he wants it. What would he even say? “Thanks for being distant since I got another friend and then basically telling me I was better off dead”? Sirius really doesn’t want to get into that whole thing. Maybe in the future, but a lot of trauma is already out in the open, and he would like to keep the rest of it in the minimum.
“What does he get from reaching out to me?” Sirius asks, furrowing his brows and reading up on the conversation, even though he has read all of it before. He doesn’t know why he expected there to be more. “I mean, what’s his end game here?”
James is silent for a beat, then takes in a sharp breath. “Right, you haven’t been online, so you haven’t seen the headlines today.”
“What do you mean?”
Clearing his throat, James takes the phone, taps on it a few times, then gives it back to Sirius. He’s pulled up an article with a headline, “Regulus Black resigns from Black Industries”. Sirius feels cold as he reads through it, his hands getting clammy and his heart rate picking up.
There’s not that much there; BI hasn’t issued a statement yet, no chairpersons are available for a comment, and it seems like no one knows where Regulus is. The article itself is short and to the point, only presenting the facts, but Sirius can imagine just by looking at the number of comments that speculations run rampant. His thumb hovers over the show comments link for half a second before he backs up and opens the Instagram conversation again. He copies the phone number before he can think too much about it, sends it to himself from James’ phone, then shoves the device back into James’ hands.
“Doesn’t change anything”, Sirius says, not really believing it himself. He does his breathing exercises a few times, then takes the offered glass of whiskey from James. He holds it tightly in both of his hands to keep them from shaking. “I don’t have anything to talk to him about. Maybe questions, but I don’t see how he could answer those in a way that would make anything better.”
“Hmm.” James doesn’t say anything more, just sips on his whiskey and taps on the side of his glass with a finger. Sirius counts the beats and tries to match his breathing to them; five beats in, six beats out.
(He knows what James is doing. It’s hardly the first time James has helped him off the ledge. Sirius breathes in and breathes out and thinks that he really needs to get James a very, very nice Christmas present. Maybe two.)
“Did I hear you say you’ll be ditching me tonight?”
It snaps Sirius out of his thoughts a bit. “Ditching you?”
“You’re going over to Remus’s tonight?”
“Oh.” The news has almost made Sirius forget his newly formed plans for the night. A real travesty. “Um. Yeah. I’ll go tuck Harry in in a bit, finish my drink with you.” He takes a sip. It’s actually not half bad. “I’m not in a real hurry, though. And I bet Harry’s already half asleep by the time I go up there.”
“Very likely.” James takes another sip and lets out a contended sigh. “I do have to say, I like the two of you together. Crossed my mind a few times over the summer, actually, but what really sealed it was seeing you actually in the same room for the first time.” Sweet as that is, Sirius really doesn’t have anything to say to that. “Am I to expect you for either breakfast, lunch or dinner tomorrow?”
Sirius blushes despite still being disoriented. “Let’s say lunch, but I’ll let you know if our plans change.”
James nods. “Fair enough. And do you want to talk about your brother, or do you want to talk about your boyfriend, or would you rather just sit here in silence and drink and maybe watch a few episodes of Modern Family?”
Given the kinds of thoughts circling his head right now, the answer is rather easy. Downing the rest of his whiskey, Sirius sighs and holds out his glass. “Pour me another, Prongs.”
Chapter 9: November, interlude
Summary:
Sirius is being emotional and Remus is a rock star. Very cutesy, very mindful.
Notes:
i asked for comments and you guys really understood the assignment, huh? i've never been good at replying to comments so i gave up on that like ten years ago and never even started when i started posting on ao3, but i want you to know that i read and reread and reread every single one of them. i'm not kidding, when i need a pick me up go to the comments of my own fanfics. it's a little pathetic.
anyway, please keep the comments coming. they feed my children and water my crops and help me not pay for a therapist.
THIS CHAPTER, however, was not meant to get deep. it was supposed to be cute and maybe a little steamy, but then feelings got involved. please be kind, this is actually very important to me, and explains an aspect of sirius' personality that has been there from the very beginning. i just hope i made it justice.
enjoy <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The whiskey has gone to Sirius’ head a lot faster than wine does, but the cold air helps. He takes a deep breath as he steps off the porch and starts walking down the road, then pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to Remus, telling him he’s on his way.
It’s quite a clear night, which is surprising after the cloudy day they’ve had. Sirius takes his time walking the short way, enjoying looking at people’s front yards now that it’s so late that most everyone in in bed for the night. He’s always been a bit of a snoop, he thinks; it started when he was little and spent his time in the back yard of his house, looking over the fence and getting jealous of their neighbours' kids getting to play football and get their clothes dirty. Then, after he met James, it evolved into snooping into the Potters’ life, wondering first what was so wrong with him that his own parents were incapable of showing him the tiniest bit of affection, and later knowing better and wondering how everything was so fundamentally wrong with them instead.
These days, snooping is harder, and not only because it’s really not socially acceptable. Rifling through bathroom cabinets at parties became a bore and kind of sad after the third time Sirius found vodka and prescription meds hidden behind Mr. Clean; social media is fun from time to time but has become way too manicure for Sirius’ tastes, and there are only so many pastel shade baby showers and monochrome rows of bridesmaids’ dresses he wants to look at before he wants to gauge his eyes out. And most of the time he’s just either busy or tired, anyway, and there isn’t any time for his silly little guilty pleasure.
In Whitehaven, Sirius has turned back into his first form of snooping. On his daily runs, he’s taken into carefully sneaking peeks at people’s front yards, sometimes glancing through the windows. He likes creating imaginary lives for these people that he’s never met, detailing their stories in his head and using those daydreams when panic tries to overtake him. He’s still nervous about drawing too much attention to himself, so as ominous as it sounds, it’s easier to do this in the cover of the dark night.
As he walks, Sirius makes a decision to not think about his brother tonight. Despite how it might seem to outsiders, what with him being in Whitehaven and avoiding the public, he really doesn’t like running from his problems. However, he just can’t do this today. Regulus as a topic has always been complicated, and Black Industries is whole can of worms he would rather not open. Sirius has a nagging suspicion that Regulus resigning might not be an entirely bad thing, but in all honesty, he would very much like to continue his lovely day and focus on more delightful things.
Like Remus, Sirius thinks as the cottage comes into view just as his phone buzzes with a new message.
From: Remus: I left the front door unlocked for you <3
Sirius smiles and hoists his bag further up his shoulder. The rest of the way feels more like he’s skipping rather than walking, feeling like there’s some invisible string pulling him towards the cottage. He stops at the door for a second, taking in one more deep breath of the crisp air and then stepping inside.
“Hey”, Sirius calls out, keeping his voice light and borderline soft not to disturb the peace in the house. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come over sooner.” He kicks out his shoes and places them neatly next to Remus’s, then hangs up his coat in a hanger by the soft looking tweed jacket he remembers seeing Remus wearing the first time he saw him.
(His heart thumps pleasantly against his rib cage.)
Following the light coming from the living room, Sirius leans in through the doorway. “Did you want me to lock the door?”
Remus looks over the back of the couch at Sirius. His smile is the most beautiful thing Sirius has seen all day. “Hi. Yes, that would be good.” Sirius smiles back, knees weak, and turns back right as Remus adds, “Thank you, love.”
If Sirius trips while taking the three steps back to lock the front door, that’s his business. Love is barely a pet name; James calls anyone he’s known for longer than five minutes love. And yet – Sirius thinks it’s wonderful, to be honest. No one he’s been in a relationship has ever called him that before. He locks the door and sets his bag down by the door leading to the bedroom, then tries to reel in his silly grin before returning to the living room.
Remus looks soft; that’s the only word Sirius can think of that can sum up the jumper, the reading glasses, the blanket, the tea, and the warm hue of the coals from the fire place and candles on the coffee table. He’s like the poster boy for a cozy evening, and Sirius is there for the full experience. The book in his hands looks well loved, based on the scuffed corners on the cover and heavily underlined pages, and as Sirius gets closer he can see notes scribbled in the margins in tiny handwriting.
“How’s James?” Remus asks and puts the book down on the coffee table. The Secret History. Sirius has been meaning to read that one for years and years. “Is everything okay? You sounded off on the phone.”
Sirius swallows. “Um. Yeah. Yes, James is alright.” How online is Remus? Does he have a Twitter account? Has he already read about Regulus and the situation with Black Industries? “It’s, uh, a thing with my brother, actually.” Sirius sits on the edge of the couch, a little more stiff around the shoulders than he’d like. “It’s a long story. But can – can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m not trying to avoid the issue, I just...” He looks at Remus, fully aware that his puppy dog eyes have not worked on anyone since James’ dad caught on in fifth grade. “I’ve had an amazing day today, in big part thanks to you, and I’d rather not my little brother ruin it.”
Remus smiles at him. Sirius ignores the worried twist around his eyebrows. “Yeah, of course we can do that.” He lifts up his blanket. “Come here. I was promised cuddles.”
Sirius is all too happy to comply. The blanket is just as warm and soft as it looks, and he fits into the spot between Remus and the couch perfectly, like it’s made for him. The jumper Remus is wearing smells like tea and a little bit of firewood, and Sirius knows Remus doesn’t chop his own firewood but it’s a rather compelling visual.
“I didn’t sound that off, did I?”
A thoughtful hum. Sirius is really learning the difference. “Just a little. I was putting off getting worried until you came over, though.” Remus runs a hand up and down his back and uses the other hand to adjust the blanket over them. It’s a nice little cocoon. “See? I’m getting better at that not jumping into conclusions thing.”
With a laugh, Sirius presses a kiss to Remus’s neck, then to his chin. “I’m proud of you.” In search of a proper kiss, he turns a bit and crawls up the couch, peppering kisses to Remus’s jawline and cheek as he goes. “Also, I can’t believe this is the first time I’m seeing you with your reading glasses.”
“I guess it is.” Remus’s lips taste like tea and honey, and maybe chocolate? Sirius needs to figure out if Remus uses chocolate lip balm or if he just eats a lot of chocolate, because it feels like all their kisses have a chocolate aftertaste. “And how do you like them?”
“They look good.” They do. Thin frames and big lenses have never looked so attractive, and Sirius doesn’t think it’s all because of the candlelight. “Make you look like a real professor.”
“Well, good thing I am a real professor.”
It shouldn’t be that hot. It’s never been hot before. Sure, Sirius has always had a bit of a thing for people with authority (which his therapist says stems from his issues with his parents, but he really doesn’t want to think about that), but he has never before thought of a teacher as hot. Yes, he once thought about hooking up with a substitute teacher, but he thinks that might have been mostly about doing something to piss off his mother. Teachers have just always been generally out of his radar, and Sirius never did go to university, so he doesn’t have any kind of experience with professors.
But Remus? Remus is exquisite. Sirius doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t been in a relationship in such a long time, or because it feels like he knows Remus better than he sometimes knows himself, but every kiss, every touch they share feels like nothing Sirius has ever felt before.
He can’t get enough; before he knows it, they’re making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers. It’s hot and heavy, and it makes Sirius’ head buzz and his skin feel like it’s on fire and his hips move on their own accord. Remus keeps making very delightful noises and tracing patterns on the skin of Sirius’ waist, and once his lips find that spot right under Sirius’ ear it’s more or less game over. After a while Remus pins Sirius against the back of the couch, and Sirius can tell he’s getting hard. Sirius isn’t totally unaffected himself, and the stimulation feels good (very good, actually, and oh God, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it), but at the same time...
At the same time, Sirius’ head isn’t in it. Or heart. Or both? This happens to him sometimes – well, quite often, actually, but most of the time he goes through with it anyway. Acts like nothing is wrong, knows how to say and do the right things to make sure the other person gets satisfied and doesn’t suspect anything. He pretends.
And that’s exactly what he promised Remus he wouldn’t do.
When Remus leaves what Sirius knows to be a pretty visible mark just under the collar of his shirt, he sighs and steels himself against any kind of response that might come, knowing that he can’t keep going like he used to. Not with Remus.
“I know I said I want tonight to stay nice and lovely like today was, but...” Sirius watches as Remus leans back to look at him, hair a little messy and smudges in his glasses. He’s so beautiful. Anxiety wrings his stomach at the sight, but the panic he’s expected isn’t there. “Can I say something? About – about me and... physical intimacy?”
Remus searches his eyes. Sirius doesn’t know if he finds what he’s looking for, but there’s a softness in the touch when Remus runs the pad of his thumb along Sirius’ jaw.
“Of course you can.” Remus tilts his head forward, pressing their foreheads briefly together. “You can always talk to me. You should know that.”
For some reason, a simple gesture like that makes Sirius’ eyes burn. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses a soft kiss on Remus’s lips as a thank you.
“I just... okay.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I like sex. It’s just that, maybe seven times out of ten, I’m not really in the mood? Or, like, that’s how it’s been in the past, I can’t say for certain how things will be with you. I just know myself, and I thought it’d only be fair to tell you before... I don’t know, just so that you won’t be disappointed, I guess.”
It feels instantly a little easier to breathe, once Sirius has gotten the words out. He’s never even considered telling this to someone, not even Gideon, even though he has known this about himself since he was nineteen and finally understood that not everyone feels the same way about sex. He’s mentioned it to James in passing, vaguely, but he’s not sure James quite understands. Maybe he does. In any case, telling Remus feels different, more meaningful, and it leaves him raw in a way he doesn’t think he’s been before.
Remus doesn’t look disappointed. Curious, maybe, and attentive, but not disappointed. Not angry, or sad, or frustrated, or any of the five hundred different negative emotions Sirius has always imagined someone would feel after hearing this. Sirius thinks he should know by now not to expect Remus to react the way anyone else would; Remus is clearly not just anyone. He keeps his hand on Sirius the entire time, tracing patterns to his chin and the underside of his jaw, and it’s grounding in a way no one else’s touch usually is.
“Thank you for telling me, love.” There it is again. Sirius could really get used to Remus using pet names on him. He leans in to Remus’s touch, keeping down the little keening noise that threatens to come out. “But just so you know, we don’t have to have any expectations when it comes to this?”
Sirius smiles, then moves his left leg up Remus’s hip to pull them closer together. “That’s so sweet, Remus, really, but I want to have expectations. I want you to have expectations. Because honestly”, he leans in, breathing the next words directly into Remus’s ear, “I don’t mean to brag, but no one’s ever had any complains, and I’m a very quick study when properly motivated.”
The shaky breath that leaves Remus’s lips following the words is incredible, and Sirius can feel it in his whole body. He leans back again and thoroughly enjoys the dusting of pink on Remus’s cheeks when he kisses him again, slow and deep. “But I do need to feel secure and cared for on a whole other level before I feel comfortable enough to even want to have sex”, he says, keeping their faces close. “And even then it’s no guarantee.”
In the silence that follows, Sirius tries to count the freckles on the bridge of Remus’s nose. There are so many, but they’re faint; Sirius wouldn’t be able to count all of them, even if the lighting was better. He has a new favourite every few seconds, first the one near the inner corner of Remus’s left eye, then the cluster of three right under the first one, then the darker one that’s almost hidden by the shadow of the raised scar that cuts through his skin. There’s a chance that Sirius is going to have a new favourite every time he looks at Remus’s face, but he’s willing to take that risk.
When Remus moves, the anxious part of Sirius’ brain says it’s because he needs a distance between them. But then Remus merely leans back, takes off his reading glasses and places them behind him on the coffee table. Then he pulls Sirius back to him, just as close as he did before, and Sirius’ heart settles.
“I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen to it very carefully.” Sirius hums in answer, closing his eyes. “I’m not interested in you because I want to have sex with you; I want to have sex with you because I’m interested in you. There’s a very distinct difference there, and it’s an important one. I need you to hear that.” Sirius hears it. Loud and clear. The small threat of tears is not that small anymore, and he buries his face in the crook of Remus’s neck when they fall. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so important to me, you know that?”
Sirius cries tears of relief into Remus’s neck, and Remus keeps holding him. Once he starts crying it’s very hard to stop; he realises he hasn’t cried like this in all the time he’s been in Whitehaven, and that a lot of pent up stress comes out with the feeling of such complete acceptance.
And so he lets himself cry, and he’s only a little bit embarrassed about it. Remus keeps tracing patterns to his back and readjusting the blanket around them, creating a comfortable little cocoon for them. From time to time, Sirius understands that words are being whispered into his ear, but it’s mostly soft nonsense that doesn’t really register. It doesn’t even matter what Remus says – just the fact that he’s simply there, offering comfort even though this was definitely not a planned or anticipated part of their night.
(In a way, the evening has been such a roller coaster of emotions. His whole autumn has. Sirius feels drained. He should have known that it would all catch up with him sooner or later. Maybe he wishes that the break down would have come when he was literally anywhere else – but at the same time he’s sort of grateful it happened here. He’s a bit of a mess as a human being, and it’s only fair that Remus learns this about him now.)
As all things, the tears stop eventually. Sirius doesn’t know how much time has passed, but when his breathing finally settles, Remus helps him sit up and brings him a glass of water. He chugs it right away, earning a smile from Remus, who drapes the blanket over his shoulders now, then uses his hands to wipe any excess tears from his face.
“I’m sorry I ruined the evening”, Sirius mumbles, leaning into Remus’s hand on his cheek. His voice still sounds and feels thick; he doesn’t even want to think about what his eyes must look like. He’s not a pretty crier. “Especially since everything was so very nice like, five seconds ago.”
“Nothing is ruined.” Remus takes the empty glass from Sirius’ hands and puts it away but never lets go of his hand. “I’m just very happy that you trusted me enough to be this vulnerable. I know it’s not easy.”
Sirius swallows around a new lump in his throat. “No. No it isn’t.” He braids their fingers together and hopes his gratitude can somehow be transferred through touch. “I’m not sure which came first, the need for absolute trust or the need to hide myself away, but I do feel like they feed off each other. Makes me feel a little broken, to be honest, and I know I’m not broken, and that there’s nothing wrong with feeling like this, but just knowing that I need different things from a partner is... it’s overwhelming to me, and it might be for you, and I get that.”
Remus almost looks sad for a moment before a very determined look sets on his face. It’s fascinating to watch, and Sirius is all ready to get lost in his eyes again just as Remus speaks.
“A slight correction.” Remus leans in for a quick kiss, which Sirius grants him very willingly, then takes Sirius’ face in both of his hands and – and Sirius feels small, and it’s actually very nice. “You are overwhelming, in all the best ways. You’re so smart, and so talented, and you care about things on a level that I didn’t know was really possible. Your mind is a constant wonder to me, and you keep surprising me at every turn. You’re overwhelming, but I for one am one hundred per cent looking forward to being overwhelmed by you.”
It’s Sirius’s face Remus is holding, but it might as well be his heart; that’s how exposed he feels. He has no words he can get out, only ones that echo inside his head. He has a feeling the tears might come again, but if they do, he knows in his soul that Remus will help him dry those ones, too. “Oh.”
Sirius might be the luckiest man in the world. Nothing else would explain why he gets to be right here, right now, with Remus, like this.
Notes:
i'm not sure this needs to be said in the year of our lord 2024, but here goes anyway
everyone's sexuality is different, and sirius' demisexuality is valid even if it is different from someone else's demisexuality. be kind to people even if you don't understand them; you don't have to understand something to respect it and give it value.
anyway, yay for sirius' sexuality journey! just another little side plot to add to this thing, i guess...
Chapter 10: December, part I
Summary:
Sirius dips his toes into the outside world. Harry tries to be helpful. Remus has a bad day all around.
Notes:
it's time for some backstory y'all! it's a bit of a longer chapter, but tbh it's about the length i wish all the chapters were. i'll work on that.
i love pub owner mary, and i have plans to have more of her in the story soon. keep your peepers peeled for that.
TW: chapter talks about past car accident, past hospital stay, and a past relationship with a minor, as well as alludes to past child abuse and neglect without going into any details. please be kind to yourself when reading.
Chapter Text
On the first week of December, the package from Marlene finally arrives. Well, packages, plural. Sirius has sent her a list of all the things that he needs, but he did not think it was quite this much as he watches James sign off on them from the upstairs window. (He’s starting to feel foolish about hiding away and using James’ name for deliveries, but it’s worked so well so far. He’s not going to mess with it before he absolutely has to.) He thought he was just asking for essentials, but apparently not.
“Is this your not very subtle way of telling us that you’re moving in?” Lily says next to him with laughter in her voice. “Because I have to tell you, there’s no way we can get a new extension to the house ready before the baby comes.”
Sirius lets out a nervous laugh and takes out his phone, looking up the list he sent. “I honestly don’t have any idea what Marlene could have put in the boxes. It’s really not –“ He stops abruptly, seeing the part where he has just stated the clothes. “Oh. Oh no. You don’t think she’s sent all of my clothes, do you? I think I forgot to specify, I just wanted the ones from my small closet.”
“Depends on how good of a friend she is, on top of clearly being a pretty killer publicist.” Lily pats him on the shoulder, a little patronising but not enough to hurt. “Come on. I’m not helping you carry the boxes up.”
Harry has the time of his life unpacking. Not just opening boxes and spreading packing peanuts around; Sirius is surprised to note that he actually tries to be helpful. He’s organised as he takes out the clothes one item at a time and sloppily puts them in piles (Marlene did not, in fact, send all of Sirius’ clothes, but exactly the ones he meant her to), he sets the notebooks on the window sill like it’s a bookshelf, he lines up Sirius’ shoes very neatly on the floor next to the door. Things don’t really find their places like that, but Harry tries a lot, and it’s so sweet to see.
It turns out that Marlene has gone above and beyond and sent things that Sirius hasn’t even thought to ask for. There’s his favourite blanket that was usually draped over a chair in his bedroom, that he often uses as a cape as he wanders through the apartment. The three half-finished books from his night stand and coffee table. His house slippers that are so worn and used that they really need replacing but they’re so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to part with them. His jewellery box, because even though he doesn’t use a lot of them on a day to day basis, they still bring him a lot of joy, and it’s mind boggling to see that Marlene knows that.
There’s so much stuff that Sirius is a little overwhelmed. Some of it he doesn’t really need, even though he once thought he would; who truly needs three pairs of running shoes? Who needs all these expensive hair products, when what he found from the local store work just as well? Sirius takes one of the emptied out boxes and fills it with things he once thought were absolutely necessary but now has learned to live without, thinking that James probably knows how he can donate them without it being obvious they’re from him.
The last box Sirius opens is the strangest. It’s a small box, and the things in it are all covered in bubble wrap. He takes out a framed picture that was taken at Lily ad James’ wedding, the three of them grinning and laughing and soaking wet because of course James wanted his wedding to end in a huge water balloon fight. There’s Sirius’ favourite mug that he didn’t even know was his favourite before he takes it out of the box and realises how much he’s missed it. There are the three little glass ornaments he got from James’ parents all the three years he lived with them and that he keeps in his bookshelf next to a picture of the four of them – that he also finds from the box. It’s like Marlene has gone through his apartment and looked at all the things he loves most about the place, then packed them up and sent them like Sirius is moving to Whitehaven for good.
(He isn’t. Not really. Or not yet. He has to admit that the thought has crossed his mind a few times, but living here full time would more or less mean either finding a new studio nearby or changing the way he does his job drastically. And he’s not ready to give up on life in the big city just yet. It seems like there are a lot of things he needs to think about, once he’s ready to make decisions about his career.)
At the very bottom of the box is another photo frame. When Sirius sees what it is, he can feel the breath leave him like he’s been punched in the gut, and he has to sit on the floor, cradling the picture in his hands.
"Who’s that?” Harry asks, pushing his way into Sirius’ lap and pointing at the picture.
Sirius’ mouth is dry. “Oh. That’s me.” The picture was on the dresser in his bedroom, he’s been trying to not look at it for years at this point. Why would Marlene think it’s this important? “I’m – well, I’m just about your age here, maybe a little older.”
“Wow. You were so little!” Harry exclaims. He’s right – the little boy in the picture is small for his age, but the smile on his face is big enough to fill Sirius’ heart with unexpected warmth. “Who’s that?” Harry asks then, pointing at the wriggly little creature in baby Sirius’ arms, unfocused because of all the movement.
It’s natural that Harry would ask, but some part of Sirius had hoped he wouldn’t. “That’s my little brother, Regulus.”
Sirius is acutely aware of his phone just a few feet away on the night stand, blasting Bowie and holding Regulus’ phone number. Sirius gave in and saved it in his contacts yesterday, after another emotional conversation and a lot of encouragement from Remus. He has no intentions of using the number just yet, but Remus has made a good point that he would regret not having the number saved if he one day decided he wanted to. Right now, he can’t see such a moment arising, but Remus managed to sell his point very convincingly. (Also worth a mention is the fact that Sirius is a very weak man and might actually do anything Remus says.)
“Where is he now?” Harry asks, clearly not done with his questions. It’s understandable; this might be the first time he’s ever even heard of Sirius having a brother.
Sirius hums in thought, trying not to show how much it pains him that he can’t tell off the top of his head. “I’m not sure. London, I would assume.” But how should he even know? He knows nothing about Regulus these days. Maybe he has moved to Paris since the last he heard – wouldn't even be totally out of character for him.
“You have to call him and ask!” Harry says in all his childlike wonder and simplicity. Sirius wants to hide him away to somewhere soft and warm and safe, never let him learn about disappointment and heartbreak and estranged family relations. “When the baby comes, I’m gonna be the best big brother in the whole world and always know where she is!”
Harry definitely doesn’t mean it like that, but the words shoot an arrow straight into Sirius’ heart. He looks at the little boys in the framed picture, so unaware of any of the pain that’s to come, and at the same time he knows that, at four years old, he already knew what it meant to be neglected and punished. He thinks back to his childhood, to how badly he wanted to protect his little brother from their parents, from the whole world. When did it all go so wrong?
Sirius only knows his own side of it. He knows that at some point after he met James, Regulus started to get incredibly jealous. He remembers turning thirteen and not wanting his baby brother following him around as much at school. He remembers provoking his parents at fifteen, even after Regulus came to his room at night at begged him not to. Sirius knows that’s around the time things turned south between the two of them, and he wishes he would have made more of an effort to take Regulus with him when he left home – but at that point they were both teenagers, and their relationship was broken, and Regulus had developed a burning hatred toward James.
Now, at 26 years old, Sirius knows most of their issues could probably have been solved if they just sat down and talked things through. But the more time passed, the deeper the gap between them became, and as years went on the clearer it became to Sirius that Regulus was going to follow their parents’ footsteps – and that’s what Sirius couldn’t look past.
And now Regulus has resigned from Black Industries and wants to talk to him. Sirius doesn’t know what it means; is Regulus cutting all ties to the family, or is this simply a weirdly executed change of careers? He also understands that these are the questions that he could ask Regulus if he just called him, but he can’t. Not yet. There’s been too much water under the bridge, and yet not enough distance between then and now.
But Harry does have the right idea. It does not sit well with him that he doesn’t even know for sure what country Regulus is in right now.
Sirius sighs and hugs Harry tightly against him with one arm. “I’m sure you will, sprog. The very best.” He drops a kiss to Harry’s messy hair, then pats his back. “Hey, what do you say if we go play outside after I wrap up here?”
A massive gasp. Harry looks up at Sirius, throwing his head back so fast Sirius is a little worried for his neck. “I want to jump in puddles!”
It’s been raining for a week straight, and the air is freezing cold, but Sirius knows for a fact that Harry has proper gear for this exact activity. “I promise you can jump in puddles to your little heart’s content.”
“Will you jump too, Uncle Paddy?”
Sirius pauses for just a second, then smiles. “You know, why not.” Clothes dry. He can borrow wellies from James. And if he catches a cold – which he probably won’t – it’s a small price to pay for the smile that spreads on Harry’s face from the promise.
**
It feels like Sirius’ life finds a new normal. He spends more and more of his nights at Remus’s cottage, spends his days writing songs or playing with Harry or bringing James lunch to his rugby practice, has dinner with his whole family, Remus included, and falls asleep with a smile on his face more times than not. It’s a good life, even if it is a life of avoidance a bit, and Sirius hasn’t felt this productive in years. He sees a lot of his old unfinished projects in a new light now, and has already filled an entire notebook with new songs.
(When he orders new ones from his favourite stationary shop, he takes a deep breath and uses his own name. It feels brave, and in hindsight that’s silly; companies have privacy policies for a reason. He knows he’s gotten paranoid, and that needs to stop eventually, and using his own name on online orders is a good first step.)
Sirius is playing through one of his new songs – one that’s so clearly about Remus it disgusts even him a little bit – just to hear how it sounds like in its entirety, but he jumps a little when his phone rings. Remus’s name flashes on the screen, and that’s not unusual, but the timing is; they have agreed to both work on their writing until five PM, seeing as Sirius’ head is buzzing with ideas and Remus has looming deadlines from his publisher. It’s barely two thirty, and Sirius frowns as he picks up the phone.
“Hi! Shouldn’t you be writing?” he asks, gasping with a bit of a dramatic flair. “Ooh, are we procrastinating?”
Remus lets out a small laugh, but it’s not as amused as Sirius has hoped. “Well, I just called – well, I don’t want to alarm you. But I’m having another flare up on my hip?”
Sirius stops smiling. “Oh. Oh God. What can I do?” He sets his guitar down, feeling his hands get a little clammy. He remembers the last flare up, Remus’s assurances as well as how scary it felt, as the one witnessing it. “Do you have your meds? And your heating pads?”
“Yes, love, don’t worry. It’s not a painful one this time.” Remus doesn’t sound like he’s in pain, now that Sirius thinks about it. Just defeated, which is understandable, given that his day’s plans have been derailed. “I have different kinds. I can explain it later if you want to.”
“Okay. Only if you want to.” Sirius looks at the clock, thinking that it’s still a long time until five. “Can I bring you anything when I come over?”
A pause. “Um. If it’s not too much? I could really do with a burger from Mary’s pub.” Sirius has learned by now that he needs to teach Remus how to ask for help. And he should really work on that himself, too. Maybe that can be their first joined project. “I have a tab there. Just ask for my regular, Mary knows what it is.”
There’s no way Sirius is putting the burger on Remus’s tab. “Yes. Of course.” He closes his notebook as he thinks about the pub. He knows where it is, he just hasn’t visited yet. It’s a high time he did, honestly, but the idea still makes him anxious. “Um. I was going to work on a few songs for a bit longer, but I can come over sooner if you’d like?”
Remus would never ask that of him, Sirius knows that, and that’s why he offers, and that’s why he’s already packing up his things and putting stuff away. “I mean, I don’t want to ruin your session, but...” It breaks Sirius’ heart a little, hearing the hesitation and insecurity in Remus’s voice. He looks around the room, seeing if he needs to pack anything else. “Could you? And – well, I guess I don’t know what your creative process is like, but... If you wanted to, you could take your guitar with you?” Sirius stops, his eyes finding the still open guitar case. “You could still work here, if you want. I just... I could really use the company, is all.”
Bringing the guitar with him to Remus’s cottage hasn’t even crossed Sirius’ mind. He’s not very particular about where he works, and he’s been making songs and creating worlds with other people in the room for as long as he can remember. Songwriting for him oly became a solitary thing once he became famous and moved to London on his own, when he couldn’t just walk down the hall into James’ room and strum chords at him until his fingers bled and listen to James read out random words from the dictionary.
It’s an interesting idea, trying to write at the cottage with Remus there. And at the same time Sirius finds it exciting, because who would be better to bounce ideas off of than his literal muse – who also just happens to be a literature professor?
“You know what”, Sirius says, closing the case with his guitar in it and adding a few of his notebooks into his bag, “I think I’ll do just that.” He takes one more look at his things. “I guess I’m pretty much ready to go, so I’ll text you once I’m leaving the pub, okay?”
“Okay.” He can tell that Remus is smiling, and that’s really the real reason he’s doing this. He’s just glad to know there’s something he can do for Remus when the flare ups hit. “Thank you, love.”
“Anytime, babe. See you soon.”
It isn’t until he drops the call that Sirius realises he just used the pet name babe on Remus for the first time. It just slipped out without him really realising it. His face flushes. He briefly thinks about calling Remus back, but before he can Remus sends him a single heart in a message.
**
Sirius hasn’t been to town during his time in Whitehaven yet. He’s been meaning to, and a few times his morning runs has taken him close, but he’s always turned back at the sight of people he doesn’t know. It’s a very emotional thing, now, to walk down the street and past the shops with a tote bag and his guitar case.
In a way, it reminds Sirius of the time when he was seventeen, sending his demo out into the world and playing early evening slots at the local pub near the Potters’ house back in Cambridge. His guitar back then was an old beat up thing he bought with his first pay check from a thrift store, not the custom cherry coloured Fender he owns now, but the feeling of walking down the road with a guitar case is exactly the same. He still wears ripped jeans, and still his nails have chipped black polish on them.
As much as he feels that he has changed, a lot of things seem to still stay the same.
Mary’s pub is located at the corner of a building, two small steps down from the street with a beautiful green banner over the door. It’s a good location, and looks like an inviting space; in all honesty, it looks like exactly the kind of place where Sirius used to love going, back when going to pubs was a thing he could do without being ambushed. Not a big place, judging by the number of windows facing the street, but spacious enough that you don’t have to all be having the same conversation.
Sirius stumbles a little by the door, doesn’t walk in right away. He’s been isolating himself for so long that he’s almost developed a fear of other people, one that he wants to shake at once, but it’s turning out to be a bit more difficult than he would have thought. It’s one thing to join Lily and James for a dinner party at their house and another thing entirely to be out and about like this. The town is small, yes, but it’s busy and lively, and Sirius hadn’t considered that when he promised Remus he’d pick up the food.
And maybe that’s it. That’s he’s doing this for Remus. That’s what makes Sirius take a deep breath and step inside, making a small bell jingle above the doorway.
“Hey! I was wondering when you’d finally stop by”, Mary grins, like they’re old friends and see each other all the time. Sirius feels welcome and at ease in a way he hasn’t in most public spaces in years. “Welcome! What can I do you for? Something to eat, a drink, or are you just here for my winning personality?”
Sirius puts his guitar case down and sits at the bar, then glances at the menu board on the back wall. “Oh. Um. Just picking up food, this time. Though I’ll make sure to come in for a drink soon.” He watches as Mary smiles pleasantly at someone leaving the pub. She seems to know everyone; maybe most of the people hanging out at the pub at three PM on a Thursday are regulars. “Could I get the loaded chips to go, and – and Remus’s usual? He told me you know what that is?”
Mary gives him a look. He doesn’t know her well enough to know what the look means, but he has seen enough of long looks in his life to know that that’s definitely A Look. “Sure. Pulled pork loaded chips and a double decker veggie with extra onions and a side of sweet potato chips. Anything else?” she asks, dotting all of that down on a note pad before slipping it behind her towards the kitchen.
Sirius shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Thanks.” He pays for the food, and all the while Mary keeps looking at him, a smile brewing in the corner of her mouth. Finally, Sirius just can’t not ask anymore. “What’s that look for?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking that you’re one hell of a lucky bloke.” The words are ones Sirius has heard before, sneered at him with jealousy. But Mary is full of kindness when she looks at him, and Sirius doesn’t even have time to let his shoulders tense up. “It makes a lot of sense, the two of you together. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.”
“I – I don’t –”
“Honey, it’s written all over your face.” Sirius blushes at that. He hasn’t realised he’s that obvious, but maybe it makes sense; for weeks now, he has had no reason to hide anything from anyone, not around the Potters and not around Remus. He has gotten used to showing his feelings all over his face; if he ever wants to get back into the public eye, he’ll have to regrow his thicker skin from scratch. “But don’t worry, I don’t tattle. Just know that this whole town loves Remus, and we’re just very happy that he’s happy. I’m sure you understand.”
It could be taken as a bit of a threat, the way she says it; almost like a “you better make him happy, or else”. Sirius swallows, but he doesn’t really get that vibe from Mary. She looks genuine and kind, truly a woman of her words, and Sirius dares to give her a shy smile.
It hasn’t occurred to Sirius to let people in on the secret yet – he hasn’t thought of it as a secret. There has been no point in trying to hide his relationship with Remus from Lily and James. Harry... well, who knows how much Harry understands and how much he even sees, but it’s not like Sirius hasn’t kissed Remus in front of him by now. And when they go on their little walks, Sirius never hesitates to hold Remus’s hand or to grant him a little snog. But so far, he hasn’t even imagined telling anyone outside of his inner circle.
Maybe it’s something he needs to think about more, Sirius thinks as he takes the food bag from Mary with a smile and leaves the pub. It’s worth a discussion with Remus, too. Sirius is currently not online, not posting anything on social media, but a happy relationship is definitely something he would post about under normal circumstances. He’d be sharing pictures of the take out, putting their movie nights in his Instagram stories, tweeting about Remus’s book deal and editing process. He’s never been shy about sharing his personal life online to a point where he sometimes shares a little too much, and Marlene has warned him about that a few times. And yes, he has created a private Instagram account, where he shares the things Marlene believes should stay more private for his own safety. He toes that line constantly, but the bottom line is that he is used to sharing a big part of his life online.
What Sirius doesn’t know, and what he needs to figure out, is how Remus feels about all of it. He knows Remus has Instagram and Twitter, he has seen the app icons on his phone, but since he has both of them deleted from his own phone, he hasn’t gotten around to figuring out how much Remus uses them. If – when – Sirius steps back into the world and returns to social media, does he want to continue sharing his life like he has before? And if he does, how much of that does Remus want to be a part of?
(Sirius imagines it while he walks, the online presence the two of them could have. Pictures of interlocked hands and gifted flowers. Likes and comments on each other's posts constantly. Birthday posts, holiday posts, anniversary posts. Sirius has never been the biggest fan of pictures other people have shared of intimate moments like cuddles and kisses, but with Remus... The thought gives him butterflies. Sirius might change his mind on those posts.)
There’s a smile on Sirius’ face when he gets to the cottage and rounds the yard to the back door. He likes coming in that way, likes the homey feeling of the kitchen right off the mud room, has even learned to like the smell of the chickens that’s always present on the back porch. When he walks in now, he’s greeted with the lovely sight of Remus on the couch in the living room, this time in a very nice brown jumper and his laptop sitting on top of the blanket spread out on his lap.
“Special delivery”, Sirius announces with a smile, putting his things down and bringing the food over to the couch.
Remus grins at him and puts the laptop away. The smile looks a little worn out, a little bittersweet, but not any less genuine. “And pray tell, what makes it so special?”
“This.” Sirius puts one knee on the edge of the couch by Remus’s hip, cups Remus’s face in both of his hands, then leans in and kisses him. Slowly, thoroughly, the way he has wanted to be kissed his whole life, the way he only has been since Remus. When he pulls away, there’s a nice dusting of pink that hides away some of Remus’s freckles. “Hi.”
When Remus swallows, Sirius can feel it against his hand. “Hi. That’s quite the delivery.” He tugs on Sirius’ shirt to get him closer for another kiss. “You better not start going around delivering too many meals or I’ll get jealous.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a highly exclusive service.” Sirius gives Remus a quick once over; he doesn’t want to ask, but since he knows that Remus is having a flare up, his eyes are instantly looking for any signs of pain. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad.” Remus turns on the couch, using his hands to move his right leg off the cushions and on the floor. He doesn’t look like he’s in any pain, but something’s clearly not alright. “Honestly, it’s more inconvenient than anything else. But I... well, I really just don’t like being alone when I’m like this, so thank you. You know, for coming over.”
“Of course”, Sirius says, picking up the bag of food again and handing over the container with Remus’s meal. “And to be fair, I like feeling useful. And at least now I know to bring you a veggie burger rather than some silly soup.”
“You’re not just useful, you’re a delight.” Remus says it very matter-of-factly, making Sirius almost drop his food in his lap. “Hey, I hate to ask. But could you get my laptop charger from the office?”
Sirius is up in an instant. “Sure.” He turns towards the open office door, but before he can even take a step he notices the things on the floor, the broken flower pot, the fallen down stack of books. “Wh– Remus, what happened here?”
Remus only looks a little bit sheepish, but mostly he just seems unaffected by the scene. “I took a bit of a stumble, coming out of the office. My cane is in the bedroom, and I thought I could handle the ten odd steps to the couch without losing my footing but – well, clearly I couldn’t.” He eats a chip, and when Sirius doesn’t move or say anything, he adds, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean it up tomorrow when I’m feeling a bit more mobile.”
To Sirius, it looks quite a bit more than just a stumble. He doesn’t know what he had been expecting, but clearly not this; the distance between the office door and the couch really isn’t that long, but if Remus fell down right there, his condition must be worse than what he has been letting Sirius believe.
Sirius can feel his hands shaking when he steps over the things scattered on the floor and retrieves the charger. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, because he doesn't want to make the situation about himself when it’s clearly not, but he’s really scared. He’s scared of what is causing Remus fall down in his own living room, scared of what he might find out if he asks, scared of things that he never thought would be part of his life but very much are now. He’s scared he won’t know how to work around this, scared that he’ll react the wrong way and Remus will resent him for it.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, voice small, once he’s plugged in Remus’s laptop and sat back down on the couch. He tries to search Remus’s face for clues, but he doesn’t know him well enough to find them yet. It’s a new situation for them, and that’s scary, too.
Remus merely sighs. “Sirius, please. I’m alright. There will be bruises, but I didn’t cut myself on anything, and I’m fairly certain nothing is broken.”
“Fairly certain?”
“Sirius.” His voice is clipped in a way Sirius hasn’t ever heard it before. “This has happened before, and it will happen again. Better get used to it now; this has been my life since I was seventeen years old.”
After that, they eat in tense silence for a while. Or at least Remus eats; Sirius chews on his food but has trouble swallowing it, doesn’t taste anything. He gets up and brings two glasses of water over, just to do something, and Remus gives him half a smile at that.
Knowing that Remus has been living with this for years doesn’t change the fact that Sirius wants to know how to help. He wants to know if there’s a way he can make it easier for Remus to get through days like this, even if it is just by bringing food and helping him move around the house. He doesn’t think it’s too much to ask for, to let him in, but at the same time he understands that it’s a massive part of Remus’s history he doesn’t yet know. It’s a thing that defines a part of who Remus is, just as Sirius’ past defines a part of him. It’s not entirely fair to demand answers when Sirius hasn’t told Remus every single thing about his past, himself, but this feels a bit different.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Sirius asks finally, setting his food aside and stealing a look at Remus but ending up looking at his hands. He doesn’t dare raise his voice much above a whisper. “Not – not everything, if you don’t want to. But some of it? So that I can understand.”
Remus finishes chewing on a chip and puts the food container on the coffee table. It doesn’t look like he’s eaten much after all, either. He cleans his hands on a napkin and, giving Sirius’ heart a break and easing the tension on his shoulders, turns to look at him, finally. He doesn’t look angry, which is good, but he doesn’t look like he really wants to talk about this, either.
“I think that’s fair”, he sighs. “But I want you to understand that as a teenager, before the accident, I was a very different person than who I am now. I was hanging out with the wrong people, and that lead me to situations that... well. Situations where people got hurt.”
Sirius nods and chews on the inside of his cheek.
“My boyfriend at the time”, Remus says, then falters, like he needs to rethink his words. “Well. I say boyfriend, but it wasn’t quite that. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that, but...” He rubs his face with his hands hard enough that when he looks back up his skin looks red. “I was seventeen. He was twenty-nine, almost thirty. You can probably imagine the nature of our relationship without me having to spell it out.”
And that’s where Sirius’ heart drops to his stomach. He was not expecting the story to take quite so dark a turn that early on. He does his best not to let his shock show on his face, though, and Remus continues.
“Anyway. We were driving one night, I don’t know, going to a club two towns over where his friend was bartending so I wouldn’t get carded. He was already a few beers in but there was no way he would ever let me drive. Um. It was a clear night, no fog or rain or anything. Optimal for driving, one could say.” There’s no humour in his voice when he laughs. He sounds bitter, even after all these years. “All I really did was change the station on the radio. That’s it, that’s all it took, and he got furious. He started yelling, like he always did, and banging his fists on the steering wheel and on the dash board, and...”
Sirius reaches out and takes Remus’s trembling hand in his. He tries to see what Remus is seeing, the young boy on the passenger side, the grown man in a drunken rage, flinging his fists in the air. Remus holds onto his hand like it’s a lifeline, and Sirius wonders how many times Remus has told this story voluntarily. Probably not too many.
“I remember the lights on the other car, just seconds before we hit it. Next thing I know I’m waking up in the hospital, alone and not remembering what happened. The big things came back later, the details never did. Most of what I know is pieced together from the doctors and the police reports.”
The next bit comes out choppy and practiced, almost clinical. Sirius holds Remus’s hand in both of his and tries to help the words out easier, any way he can.
“We hit the other car around 9:30 PM. The paramedics arrived at 9:55. At that time, I was unconscious, and the driver of the other car was already dead. My boyfriend had left the scene. I was taken to the hospital as John Doe, it took them a day to figure out my identity, and by the time they called my mom she had worked herself into hysterics. I finally woke up after four days, and by that time Mom had already made sure every cop available knew who had been driving the car that crashed. They tracked him down two weeks after the crash trying to shoplift booze.”
Remus lifts his eyes to Sirius’, and they’re full of emotions that Sirius might have expect but are still jarring to see: sadness, anger, remorse, distant hatred. Sirius knows none of it is aimed at him, and decides to focus on the sadness for now as Remus goes on: “I have lasting nerve damage from my lower back to my right knee. Basically, what it means is that I can live a normal life maybe 80 per cent of the time as long as I don’t try to join a rugby team. I get two kinds of flare ups. The pains only come maybe once or twice a year, like the one I had a few weeks ago. Mostly it’s just like this, where it gets numb, and moving gets difficult. This happens maybe six times a year, in a good year. It’s just bad luck to get both of these so back to back.”
In the end, Sirius doesn’t think there is anything he can say to make it better. He lets the silence between them cool a bit, then calm down, then turn into something comfortable. All the while he keeps holding Remus’s hand, moving his thumb back and forth over the knuckles, trying to make sure Remus knows that he’s not going anywhere.
It’s been a while since Sirius was the one comforting someone like this. He’s used to being the one with a tragic backstory, being the one with trauma and unsolved issues with his past. His heart aches for Remus, for the seventeen year old boy who got dragged into something he shouldn’t have been; for the young adult having to deal with the aftermath of an accident he wasn’t responsible for; for the man sitting in front of him still grieving for lost time, lost opportunities, lost childhood.
“Thank you”, Sirius says finally, “thank you for telling me. I’m sorry this happened to you.” It’s unfair that Remus has to deal with this for the rest of his life, but saying that would hardly be anything Remus hasn’t heard before. He’s probably heard it all before, and anyway it’s not Sirius’ job to give out lame condolences or to share some stupid anecdote. His job, as Remus’s partner, is to listen, to be there and be supportive, and make sure nothing like that happens again. “I’m in awe of you, seeing how strong you are after enduring all of that.”
Something in Remus’s face changes, and the first smile since starting the story appears on his lips. It’s small, but it’s there, and Sirius smiles back and wonders if Remus can see the stars in his eyes. “My mom would like you, she says the exact same thing.”
The idea of Remus’s mother liking him makes Sirius giddy despite the seriousness of the moment. “Yeah?” He’s never been introduced to the parents; he’s never had a relationship where that would be an option. “I think I’d like to meet her. If she’s anything like you then I know I’ll like her a lot.”
Remus shifts on the couch until he’s leaning on Sirius, nuzzling his face to the underside of his jaw and making the rest of the tension of the past half hour vanish. “I’m sorry for snapping. I just really don’t like talking about this.”
“It’s understandable”, Sirius says, dropping a kiss to Remus’s hair and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry for pushing.”
“You had every right to know.” Sirius doesn’t think he does, but he doesn’t want to fight Remus on this, too. “And anyway, it’ll make more sense for you in the long run, now that you know. Because the scars... well. You know by now that they’re not pretty. But the ones on my hip and my leg especially are quite terrible to look at.”
All the scars that Sirius has seen so far on Remus’s body look severe. They look painful. But they’re old, and they’re part of Remus’s story, whether he likes it or not, and that makes them precious to Sirius, in their own way. “I think they’re kind of beautiful”, he whispers.
He’s not sure that Remus hears him, but maybe he does, because he sighs and leans in a little bit closer.
Chapter 11: December, part II
Summary:
Nothing much happens, but Christmas plans are talked about. Communication and domesticity are front and center, and sometimes there's no such thing as "too soon".
Notes:
does anything really happen in this chapter? no. do i care? also no. i like this chapter a lot. it's literally 95% fluff. please enjoy.
(it really makes me feel less silly to write about christmas time when it's september as opposed to when it was like, may or june.)
you will also see that i have raised the estimated chapter number. i don't know how you feel about that, but i know we're maybe around the halfway point in the story, so there you go. i hope the chapter number makes you more excited than frustrated, though.
as always, i would like to thank e for the first read through and giving me constant positive feedback to boost my fragile ego. and also j for always being my muse, even though i have no idea if she's ever reading this (but she was there when the idea popped into my head for the very first time, and she's always just a whatsapp message away). <3
Chapter Text
Playing the guitar with Remus in the room makes Sirius feel exposed in a way he has not expected. He’s not even playing anything specific, just picking around random melodies flying around in his head, stringing them together without any rhyme or reason. Some of them are new, some of them are so integrated in him that he’s not sure where they start or end. One of two are them are melodies of songs he used to listen to on repeat and try to mimic when he was first learning how the strings of a guitar work, and they now give him a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.
And it’s not even that Remus is really looking at him while he plays – Sirius has brought him a cup of tea to the couch, and he’s back to working on his laptop while Sirius provides idle background noise. But there are signs (quick looks, soft smiles, brief pauses in his typing) that he’s listening very carefully, noticing the melodies and appreciating them. Sirius sits on the floor with his guitar and looks at him, and as the new melodies are born he plays them out into the world and into his heart. He has a voice note app open on his phone, and he likes the idea that when he listens to it back, he might be able to hear the typing of Remus’s keyboard in the background.
Around them, Sirius can feel an aura of calm that hasn’t been there before. Or maybe calm isn’t the right word; it’s the sense of knowing who you are, and knowing who the other person is, and being completely at ease with each other. Yes, there are still many things they are yet to learn about each other. Yes, it’s only been weeks at this point. But when he’s with Remus, Sirius doesn’t feel like he has to hide anything, or that he needs to police his words, or temper down his excitement over silly things.
Maybe it’s something to do with timing, them finding each other at exactly the right time in their life cycles. Maybe it’s simply their personalities matching perfectly. Maybe it’s that they have both had emotional break downs in front of the other, and they both stayed. Either way, Sirius is doing better than he ever was, mentally and romantically, and it makes him feel like a winner, a little untouchable, breathless.
Sirius thinks about that at night, when he’s cuddling close to Remus’s side for good night kisses that taste like tooth paste and go on for way longer than just your little soft pecks. He thinks about that when he wakes up in the middle of the night to Remus stretching out his leg (“It just tingles”, Remus whispers. “Like pins and needles. It’s an uncomfortable process when the numbness goes away. Go back to sleep.”) before falling back to sleep on his side of the bed. (He has his own side of the bed at Remus’s cottage. What a marvellous thought.) And he thinks about it in the morning, when he wakes up early for a run with James and gives a barely even awake Remus a kiss before leaving him to sleep off the rough day.
“I like the me I can be when I’m around him”, Sirius says, taking deep breaths and looking out to the sea when they stop at Fairy Rock once more. “I don’t know if that makes any sense, but... yeah.”
It’s quiet at Fairy Rock. It’s become a regular spot for Sirius; he regularly comes there on his runs with James, and on his walks with Remus, and sometimes he comes here on his own, just sitting out there and looking out at the sea either listening to music or enjoying the wind. It’s a different calmness than the one he loves to feel at the cottage, or at the Potter residence, but it isn’t any less welcome. His heart feels at ease.
“I know I’ve only known him for a little while, you know. I’m aware of that”, Sirius continues. “But you know how sometimes you just – you just know? He just fits.” He looks down at his shoes, at the wet gravel and dirt and slightly bigger pebbles. There’s a long since fallen leaf, brown and dusty and almost falling apart. Sirius has always liked watching the seasons turn; yet another thing he has forgotten in the past few years. “I don’t know how else to explain it. He fits.”
When Sirius finally looks up, he sees that James is looking at him with a very weird face. “Yes. He does fit.” The words are said with an air of finality in them; like James has also gotten to that conclusion on his own. “This really isn’t like with anyone else, is it?”
That’s an incredibly easy answer, and Sirius does not miss a beat when he says, “No. No one’s ever been like this.”
“Not even Gideon?”
How is Sirius supposed to explain to James that, while Gideon will always be an integral part of Sirius’ past that he will eventually look at with a smile, he was never even close to what this relationship with Remus is?
Sirius takes a deep breath. “Gideon was… he was convenient. And comfortable. He was nice and respectful and fun. I don’t –“ He realises then that he never did come around to telling James exactly what happened, and now it’s been so long and it feels like another lifetime entirely. He feels a little guilty about that. “I don’t think I ever saw it lasting, if I’m being honest. And neither did he. That’s essentially why it ended, really. He wanted to come out, I wasn’t ready, and we sat down and talked about where we saw our relationship going. We agreed that it wasn’t really going anywhere, in any regards, and that was it. Very amicable.” Of course there was fondness between them, there still is, but they both deserve more than that. It sounds like Gideon found it; Sirius knows he definitely did.
(He’s still hesitant to call it what he knows in his heart it to be. It’s so soon. But is there even such a thing as too soon if it’s the real thing? Sirius’ heart thumps in his chest, his mind circling around the word, refusing to latch onto it quite yet.)
“Hmm.” James uses the brief silence to start stretching, keeping his muscles warm. Sirius follows his lead, knowing they will stay here for a moment longer. “And then the article happened.”
“Yes. The article.” Now that it’s been a few months, and now that Sirius has heard Gideon’s side of the story straight from the source, he has a better understanding of a lot of things. He has no trouble admitting that his own judgement has been harsh at times. “I’d never blame him for that, you know. For any of it. He was well in his rights to do the interview and come out, and I respect that. He did everything right and by the book, the way he thought was best for him and his situation. It’s not his fault that people and the media keeps demanding even more and can’t leave well enough alone. And I told him as much.”
James gives him a sunny smile from where he’s bent down, stretching his hamstrings. From that angle, though, it looks a little like a grimace. “Cheers to that.”
There’s a silence between them again, during which a small gust of freezing wind makes Sirius shiver. He raises his arms high above his head and leans left to give his sides a stretch, enjoying the small bit of pain that means it’s working. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’ve come to the conclusion that...” He sighs as he drops the stretch, then leans the other way. “Well. We both know I was going to come out eventually, but maybe – maybe the article was actually what I needed, for that.”
Sirius can feel James turn to look at him. When James speaks, his voice is kind, slightly curious, but mostly he just lets Sirius talk it out. That’s how he’s always done everything: with kindness and zero judgement. “How’d you think that?”
Sirius takes a few deep breaths, staring out over the sea at a cloud shaped like a three tiered wedding cake. He doesn’t quite know where to begin, but he still tries.
“I mean, sure, social media and the news outlets took the choice from me, but I do think that the article was what would have given me to courage to come out on my own, either way.” He’s been running the scenarios in his head for weeks now. He’s tried to imagine a world where the article was published but no one connected him to Gideon. How would he have felt then, reading the article? Sirius thinks he might have been inspired. He would have been on break after his tour, so he would have had time to think about it in depth, talk it through with his friends and his team, hatch a plan. “I think, if given the chance, I might have tried to come out before Christmas on my own.”
He says tried on purpose; the more Sirius thinks about it, the more evident it becomes to him that he has always been encouraged to not show that side of himself. He doesn’t know how high up this goes, but he thinks he’s pretty sure it’s somewhere in the record label. He’s been drafting an email to Marlene, trying to make sense of the whole situation, asking her to look into it discreetly and quietly. In his darkest moments, Sirius thinks he might add into the email a question about getting out of his contract; he’s ashamed to admit that he’s not that in tune with the details of it, and he’s going to need Marlene’s help with everything. As much as he trusts Marlene and appreciates her help, he needs to get a grip and figure out these things himself.
Sirius needs to call her again. Not just because he has work things to discuss with her; he’s learning that he needs to do a better job at maintaining his friendships. He has honestly no idea what Marlene is doing during the holidays. Could he ask her to stop by? Would that be too much?
When they start their way back, they take an easy pace. Sirius wonders if Remus would mind him borrowing an old exercise mat he saw in the guest room; he could probably do with some yoga to finish his morning with.
“Are you going back to the cottage or coming home with me?” James asks when they’re nearing the intersection where they’d need to part ways.
Sirius thinks for maybe half a second. “Well, I was thinking I’d go back.” It’s not just because his things are there, and it’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with the Potters. Even now, Sirius can feel the pull to get to Remus faster. He might even sprint. “Remus had a rough day, I want to make sure he’s feeling okay.”
“Right.” James starts jogging backwards to the direction of his own house. “Text me if you two are up for dinner tonight.”
“I will.”
“And talk to Remus about Christmas! If he’s not going over to see his parents, then he’s expected for dinner and gifts at our house on Christmas Day.”
Sirius salutes James without turning to look again, then pick up the pace and runs the rest of the way to the cottage trying to avoid the frozen puddles on the way. He stretches for a moment longer once he finishes his run, and while he’s at it he makes sure there are no slippery patches on the front steps; Remus will already be walking around with his cane today, he doesn’t need the extra obstacles. Thankfully the ice on the steps is easy to kick away with the toes of his running shoes, and Sirius nods to himself, kind of foolishly feeling like he’s actually accomplished something when he walks in.
It’s still early, barely eight. Sirius would like to let Remus sleep as long as possible, but he doesn’t know what his schedule looks like for today – does he have a class in the morning? Did they discuss this, was Sirius supposed to wake him up? He doesn’t think so, and he is leaning towards just trusting that Remus has an alarm set if he needs to be up this morning.
So, in order to let Remus sleep, Sirius wonders if he shouldn’t take a shower right away. But then again, he very much dislikes the feeling of the sweat drying on his skin, and he’d like to change his clothes, and he can’t do that without taking at least a very quick shower. It’s a very unfortunate fact that headboard of Remus’s bed is set against the bathroom wall, but Sirius will just be very fast and hope for the best. It will probably be worth it, when Remus wakes up and Sirius doesn’t actually smell like he hasn’t bathed in a whole week.
Sirius catches himself from the bathroom mirror. It startles him a little – sure, he looks at himself from a mirror on a regular basis, but he hasn’t been obsessing over his looks in weeks. Well, months, at this point. But what catches his eye is his hair. When he was little, his hair was always kept very short and neat to fit the image his parents wanted to give the world. As he grew up, his hair became a form of rebellion, always seeing how long he could grow it before he was forced to sit down and get it cut. He doesn’t remember it getting that long, ever. He grew up in a very short leash, right up until the moment he ran away.
The Potters never cared about his hair that much, so Sirius could do with it whatever he wanted. By the time he got picked by his record label, his hair had grown down to just under his ears, and from that point on his looks were once again very carefully watched and monitored. The slightly longer hair seems to be a fan favourite, but every once in a while he’s asked to cut his hair shorter on the sides and style it differently to more fit the new persona he’s trying to sell. That’s where Sirius realises he’s lost any joy he used to have in doing his hair and growing it out.
When Sirius left London, he had just come off his tour, during which his hair grew out quite a bit. He remembers now, looking at the edges curl around his clavicles, that he had a hair appointment set up literally a week from getting home. He feels a little bad for not cancelling it. But it also means that right now, standing in the cottage’s small bathroom, his hair is the longest it has ever been.
Sirius is a little stumped. He hasn’t even thought about his hair in what feels like weeks, so he definitely hasn’t been planning on growing it out this time. But now that he looks at it... he doesn’t hate it. He actually likes it a lot. He turns his head this way and that, trying to see his hair from different angles, and the more he looks at it the less he wants to cut it off. Maybe he is due a new look? Even from his career point of view, the narrative would make sense if he came back with longer hair, but Sirius really isn’t thinking about that right now. He’s working really hard to think what he wants.
Sirius runs a hand through his hair, smoothing out the tangles, and his mind flashes back to the previous night when Remus did the exact same thing when Sirius rested his head on his chest. The memory fills his chest with warmth and seals the deal. As he steps in the tub and turns the water on, Sirius makes a mental note to buy some hair ties and a proper brush.
After the shower, Sirius quietly pads back into the bedroom, where Remus still thankfully looks to be sound asleep. He really tries to keep his movements soft when he pulls on the pants he wore yesterday, then looks for a clean shirt. For a moment, his hand hovers over the open duffel bag he brought with him last night, before his eyes land on the pile of jumpers in the corner chair, and a smile appears on his face.
Choosing the softest one he can find (a deep green one with small sunflower motifs on the hem and wrists), Sirius brings the jumper to his face just as Remus says, “Oh, so we’re reducing into stealing, then? That’s low.”
Sirius turns to look at him, a grin already planted on his face. “I’m not stealing, I’m borrowing.” He keeps the jumper in his hands when he approaches the bed and kneels next to Remus. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I tried to be quiet.”
“I don’t mind. I should get up, anyway.” When Sirius leans down for a kiss, Remus scrunches his face and turns away. “Mmh, no, I have morning breath.”
Sirius huffs. “Babe, do I look like I care?” He uses one hand to turn Remus’s face back towards him, then kisses him in a way that makes his own knees weak. And sure, the morning breath is kind of vile, but it’s really a small price to pay for getting to kiss Remus when he’s sleepy and pliant and barely woken up. “Mm, good morning.”
“Disgusting.” In any case, Remus gives out a little laugh, and doesn’t protest when Sirius kisses him again. His fingers dance up the skin of Sirius’ bare back, making his shiver pleasantly. “Did you have a good run?”
“Yeah. It was pretty cold, though.” Sirius gives up trying to just hover over Remus and gently drops down on top of him over the covers, instead, pillowing his chin on his hands on Remus’s chest. He takes the twitch in the corner of Remus’s mouth to mean that he doesn’t mind the positioning at all. “How’s your leg doing?”
Remus moves his right leg up and down a bit, ending up leaving it bent up right by Sirius’ hip, boxing him in. “It’s alright. Still pins and needles, but I think I can move around just fine with the cane.”
Sirius drops his chin to hide his mouth in his hands so he won’t say anything. He has learned by now that Remus is proud in that he doesn’t want to let anyone help him if he can do it himself. That’s all well and good, because from what Sirius has also gathered, Remus has had to fend for himself for a very long time, so that’s what he knows and what he’s used to. But the thing is, caring for someone and acts of service are Sirius’ main love languages, so Remus hopping around with the cane on his own just won’t do anymore. Just because he has been coping by himself for years doesn’t mean he has to keep doing it. Sirius wants to make it his life’s mission to never make Remus deal with anything on his own if he doesn’t want to.
The hand on Sirius’s back moves up to his hair, playing with the ends that got wet in the shower. Sirius grins into his hands. “So. What’s on the agenda for today?”
“I have a class at one, and then office hours after that.” It doesn’t seem like Remus is in any hurry to get up, which Sirius likes. He’s a sucker for slow mornings and lie-ins. “But that just means I have to stay online until five; not many people bother asking anything online they can fit in an email. And it’s the last few days before the holiday break, so I doubt that many of the students will even show up for class today.”
“Okay.” Sirius turns his head enough to leave a kiss on Remus’s wrist just because he wants to. Remus responds by swiping across his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Did you want me to leave for that, or...”
Remus tilts his head a bit, like he doesn’t understand the question. Sirius thinks it could be considered a little silly, but he still doesn’t want to assume. (He is learning that more often than not, Remus really does want him around, even if they aren’t exactly spending time together as much as doing their own things.) “I mean, you don’t have to? The office has a door. So, if you think you can quietly entertain yourself for a few hours here, I guess... I mean. I’d like you to stay?”
Sirius laughs. “Remus, have you seen the number of books you have in this place? Trust me, I will be plenty entertained.”
There’s something about the way Remus smiles at that that makes Sirius’ heart ache a bit. Like maybe someone else hasn’t been quite as accommodating about things, or maybe hasn’t considered books as being entertaining. Sirius wants to erase such memories from Remus’s mind and replace them with happy ones. “What are you going to read?”
Sirius hums in thought. “Marlene sent over a few books that I was in the middle of back in London, but quite honestly, I might restart them another time because I have no memory of what’s going on in those. I just really want to read one of yours.” He’s been browsing Remus’s shelves a lot lately, and paying attention to the books he keeps on his night stand and coffee table. There are so many titles that he knows for a fact he’s been meaning to read for years, and all the copies in his place look so well loved he’s really itching to get his hands on them. “Any suggestions? I noticed you annotate a lot, I’d love to read those.”
There’s a dusting of pink on the bridge of Remus’s nose when he smiles. “I’ll think on it and give you a few good options, if you want.” He leans up and forward in an awkward angle to give Sirius a quick kiss, then pats on his sides. “Okay, I think it’s time to get moving. I can’t believe you’re just chilling here without a shirt on and not freezing to death – not that I’m really complaining”, he adds his smile turning a little wicked and making Sirius blush in turn.
Sirius gets up and picks up the jumper he was going to wear from where it’s been stuck between them, the wool warm from body heat and soft from constant wear. He’s already put his arms through and is about to pull the jumper over his head when Remus stops him.
“Wait, you can’t wear that one.”
Sirius, baffled, turns to look at Remus who is now sitting up at the edge of the bed, reaching for his cane. “Why? It’s so soft.”
An annoyed huff. “Yes, but it’s an autumn jumper”, Remus explains, like the issue is clear as day. Sirius feels warm all over, even as he strips the jumper off again. “There should be a similar one but just blue with stars on it, it’s on that chair, you can wear that.”
The air gets stuck in Sirius’ throat when he turns to look for the correct jumper. He’s so full of love towards Remus in that moment that it’s impossible to try to deny anymore. It’s just such a Remus thing to have designated jumpers for each season that Sirius is a little annoyed with himself that he didn’t think about it himself. It’s such a Remus thing, and it makes so much sense, and this little detail about Remus makes Sirius just love him even more. His hands shake a bit when he takes out a, yes, very similarly soft jumper and pulls it over his head.
“Better?” he asks, turning back and spreading his arms to show the jumper off. The arms are too long on him, slipping down over his fingers, but he kind of loves that, too.
Remus reaches out to touch the hem of the jumper as Sirius steps closer. It almost looks like the movement is unintentional. “Yes, better.” There’s a dreamy look on Remus’s face when he looks up at Sirius, and the blush feels like it’s come to stay. “They suit you. The stars.”
In general, Sirius hasn’t worn that many things with stars on them; he thinks it’s a little on the nose, even for him. But secretly, in all honesty, he has always loved them. His name and his brother are the only things his parents ever gave him that he cares about, and even when he’s not been in contact with Regulus, he has always had his name to remind him that the two of them are still connected, they’re still both stars, and in his mind at least they shine brighter than all the rest.
Sirius doesn’t think that Remus knows this about him yet, but be as it may, Remus suggested the stars over the sunflowers. He will understand the importance later, and Sirius knows that by that point the star jumper will be in his regular wardrobe.
“I’ll put the kettle on and feed the chickens”, Sirius tells Remus, leaning in before he can protest, knowing very well that Remus has been planning on going to feed the chickens himself despite his leg still not working at one hundred per cent. “One more for the road”, he mumbles into a kiss, then slips out of the bedroom. Remus’s laughter follows him all the way to the kitchen.
Even though Sirius is still not comfortable saying that he could take care of the chickens on his own long term, he has helped Remus now enough times to know how to feed them twice a day. After filling up the kettle and putting it on the stove, he puts on Remus’s wellies (they’re big on him, even when he’s wearing thick woolly socks, but they will do for little tasks like this) and one of the coats that Remus uses when working around the yard, and steps once more outside into the cold winter air. The clucking coming from the chicken coop might have once made him feel anxious, but now it feels as familiar as the creak of the cottage’s back porch steps. (It still makes him a little anxious.)
“Good morning, ladies”, he announces as he steps inside the coop. The rooster (Sirius has now learned that he has a different name pretty much every time Harry comes over) sits on the roost and gives him a dirty look. “Good morning, sir.”
He goes around the coop, filling the grain dispenser like Remus has shown him to, making sure they have enough water and that the nesting boxes have hey in them. He’s clumsy when he walks around in the big boots and the chickens crowd around him, and he almost falls down a few times, but he gets it all done relatively smoothly. After, Sirius takes the small basket by the door and checks the nesting boxes one by one, collecting the few eggs he finds. He has learned from Remus that it’s normal to get less eggs during the colder winter months, so he’s not alarmed when some of the boxes are completely empty.
“Good morning, Miss Daisy”, he mumbles when he gets to the last one, finding Harry’s favourite chicken snoozing there. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, but do you have something for me, hm?”
From close up, chickens look quite terrifying. It takes Sirius a while to gather the courage to get close enough to check under Daisy if there are any eggs in the box. He finds one, and when he takes it he’s so afraid that Daisy is going to fight him for it, but she just moves around a bit and goes back to her nesting like nothing happened. Sirius can really see why Daisy is the one Remus is not worried to let Harry play with.
“Thank you for not attacking me”, he whispers to her, and she just looks at him. “Right.” He stands up and looks around one more time to see if there’s something he forgot to do, then turns towards the door with his basket. “Okay, guys, until next time.”
Remus is in the kitchen by the time Sirius re-enters, wellies off and coat back on the hook in the mudroom. He’s wearing his pyjama pants and one of the jumpers Sirius has decided is his favourite, the brown one with small yellow and reddish details. It looks very nice with his eyes when he turns towards Sirius and smiles, the warm morning sun filtering through the kitchen window bringing out the gold and amber.
I love you, Sirius thinks, stumbling over his own feet when he lets himself to actually think these words for the first time. Or – well, it’s not like he lets himself do anything. More like his mind doesn’t really ask anymore.
“You really didn’t need to do that”, Remus says when Sirius puts the basket on the counter. “I could have done it after – “ Sirius stops him in the middle of the sentence by grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. “Oh.” Remus has just brushed his teeth but hasn’t shaved yet. The stubble scratches Sirius’ face deliciously. When they pull apart, Sirius feels out of breath but surprisingly stable on his feet. “What was that for?”
Sirius kisses him again. “You.” He looks at Remus, his heart pounding and his head whirring. “Just you.”
There’s a sound that Remus makes a lot, between a huff and a laugh. Sirius loves that sound. “You ridiculous man”, Remus whispers now, like he’s talking to himself, and kisses Sirius one more time before turning back to the counter. “Thank you, love. Could you grab mugs for us while I pick up the tea?”
Taking out the mugs, Sirius grins at the idea of bringing his favourite mug here, the one Marlene sent from London. He’ll have to ask Remus about that. But for now, he’s very happy to use the two matching white mugs with roosters on them, the ones he’s been using almost every day for the past two weeks. He likes the thought that he has a regular mug here, just like he has his own side of the bed and a favourite spot on the couch.
Sirius brings the mugs to the counter that Remus’s cane is leaning against, then almost drops them when he sees the French press.
“Have you – “ he starts, then clears his throat again after putting the mugs down, safely away from the edge where he might accidentally break them. “Since when have you had a French press?”
Remus doesn’t drink coffee. He has a massive collection of tea, but only keeps a small stash of instant coffee at the back of his fridge for when coffee drinker friends come over. Sirius knows this about him, just like he knows that Remus can’t sleep without a cup of chamomile tea in the evening. And Sirius has spent some time in this kitchen, and in that time, he has never before seen a French press here.
Remus hums. “About since the time you started spending nights here.” Remus reaches for the press, and Sirius watches in silence as he measures the ground coffee beans and pours hot water over them. “I didn’t think it was fair of me to offer you instant coffee every morning when I have a whole selection of tea for myself. You’re going to spend a lot of mornings here.” He pauses, and Sirius can see his face is red where he’s bowed down over his steeping tea. “I mean, I hope you are. And in that case, I thought it was only fair to get you proper coffee.”
It takes a lot of willpower from Sirius to not tackle Remus right there and then into another make out session. The pull between them has evolved into something that’s almost visible, it’s pulsating there in the air, calling to Sirius to close the distance and latch onto Remus for good, to never let go. He feels a little bit pathetic, to be honest, but at the same time he has love, love, love circling around in his head, and all he can really do is smile.
“Yeah”, he says, a little faintly. “I’ll be here a lot.” I’ll be here as much as you want me to, he almost says, but doesn’t, because that’s just... it’s a little too much. Sirius takes a breath that feels shaky to him, then turns to take out breakfast things.
They fall into their routine that they have been developing for a few mornings now. Remus fries eggs, Sirius makes toast. They bring everything to the table, where they sit across from each other. Remus reads a book or the morning paper, Sirius looks at Remus and smiles. They don’t talk much during breakfast, and that’s alright; Sirius loves the silences just as much as he loves the conversation. This time, Remus has brought three books to the table, explaining to Sirius that these are the ones he would recommend Sirius, “based on the vibe, and the story, and the season”.
“Are you driving down to see your parents during the holidays?” Sirius asks while eyeing the back covers from each book. They all seem very interesting, to be honest, so he might just have to pick one at random.
Remus looks up from his own book and pushes his reading glasses up his nose. “Oh. Not this year.” He sips on his tea; Sirius can smell the passion fruit and honey. “Mam called last week, they’re going to Greece with some friends for a week. I might try to visit them after the new year.”
“Right.” Sirius doesn’t actually know how often Remus sees his parents. He knows they talk a lot on the phone, but this is the first time him going out there to meet them has come up. From what he can tell, they do have a very warm and loving relationship, if a little more distant than the one James has with his parents. “Okay, James wants to let you know that, since you won’t be with your parents, you will be with us. His parents are arriving the week before Christmas.”
“Oh. Right.” Remus’s eyes fall back to his book, but Sirius can tell that he’s not exactly reading, because then he looks up again after a few short moments. “So, I’m meeting Monty and Effie?”
Sirius furrows his brows in question. “I thought you already met them?”
“Well, sure. Briefly, on Harry’s birthday.” Sirius has even seen pictures. To him it looked like they got a long very well. Remus closes his book and sets it down next to his plate. Slowly, deliberately. Then he takes off his glasses and sets them on top of the book. “What I mean is, are you going to introduce me to your parents?”
“Oh.” Sirius gulps and his heart rate picks up suddenly. He hasn’t even thought about it like that. “Yes. If you want? Definitely yes.” The idea makes him giddy, yet at the same time it’s a little nerve wracking. He looks at Remus’s hands, now folded neatly in his lap. “Are – are you nervous?”
Remus looks at him, and Sirius looks back, searching his face. There’s the beginning of a smile, but he is also biting down at his lower lip, and his leg is jumping up and down under the table. “I know I shouldn’t be.”
But he is. He is nervous. As much as Sirius wants to rid Remus of all negative emotions, it’s a little exhilarating to know that he can get nervous about meeting the Potters simply because they’re important to Sirius. Sirius puts the books away and gets up, rounding the table until he can crawl into Remus’s lap, cautious not to put all his weight on the right leg. Remus’s arms come around him, and it seems second nature, and that’s one more reason for Sirius to place a soft, calming kiss on his lips.
“I’ve never introduced anyone to them before”, he whispers against Remus’s lips, holding his face in his hands. “So, you’re extra special.”
The laugh that escapes Remus’s lips trembles a little. “So, I should be nervous?”
“No.” Sirius kisses him again, and again, maybe five times, thinking I love you and slowly carding his fingers through Remus’s hair, massaging the scalp. “I’m saying you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
And that’s a truth that Sirius feels in his chest. And it looks like Remus knows it to be true as well, because he looks up at Sirius’ eyes and he smiles.
Chapter 12: Christmas
Summary:
The holiday season with family, both biological and found. Lots of emotions, and a jealous Harry.
Notes:
did i set out to write an almost 10k word chapter? not really. am i mad about it? also not really. i just wanted to keep all the christmas stuff in one chapter, and i went back and forth if i should cut this into two after all, but ultimately i decided to keep it as is. i hope you're fine with that.
let's play a little game where you tell me in the comments how many taylor swift references you spot in this chapter! because i know i for sure made three or four, but i know myself and i think there are a few unconscious ones...
oh, and there is smut in this chapter. it's not explicit, but i needed to include it for science. also sirius canonically has a praise kink and remus in just simply is a soft possessive service top, and you can not change my mind about this.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The week before Christmas comes around much faster than Sirius has anticipated, and suddenly he has more plans and social engagements than he has had all autumn. He’s been invited to a Christmas party at Mary’s pub, and he’s only a little hesitant about going because he knows Remus is going and he would like for Sirius to join him. James’ parents are arriving for the holidays the day after the party, and they will be staying for a full week, leaving just a few days before New Year’s Eve – for which Sirius has been invited to join Peter Pettigrew and what sounds like half the town at his house for late dinner and drinks.
It’s not a lot, in the grand scheme of things, but to Sirius, who hasn’t really gone anywhere since late August, it feels like almost too much. What helps him, though, is the knowledge that Remus will be at his side at all those events, as will James and Lily. And he really is looking forward to seeing James’ parents after such a long time; he’s only had time to miss them since he came to Whitehaven, but now it almost feels like a physical ache. He really needs a mother’s hug, badly.
On the day of the Christmas party, Sirius has made Remus come with me to look through all his clothes. He doesn’t have anything he himself would consider party wear, but Remus has said that he doubts anyone will be wearing anything much different than what they wear normally. Sirius still wants to look good; he wants to look worthy of Remus, who has one of his neater cardigans on and has ironed a collared shirt to go under it and looks good enough to eat. Even Lily, almost eight months pregnant, is wearing very a smart looking green cocktail dress, and Sirius saw James debating over two different green shirts to match best with her.
Plus, it’ll be Sirius’ first actual social event in Whitehaven. It might not be a big deal, and he hopes to God none of the pictures taken there make their way to any news sites or spread in social media. But it’s a big deal to him, and he wants to look his best – if only to make himself feel more confident.
“I mean, I guess I could wear all black”, Sirius muses, holding up a black button up that seriously needs ironing. He’s not in the mood for that though. “It’s a little boring, but it’s classy, and I know I look good in black.”
Remus huffs. “You look good in anything.” He’s lounging on the guest room bed at the Potter house, reading one of the books that Marlene sent over a couple of weeks ago. His hair is sweeping down on his forehead where he’s looking down and squinting a bit to see better without his reading glasses, creating shadows across his face. “It’s honestly a little bit unfair.”
“Wow, like you’re one to talk.” Sirius rolls his eyes as he discards the shirt and looks for another. “Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious.” There’s a couple of turtleneck sweaters, and Sirius wonders if he could wear one of those. Maybe with black jeans and his leather jacket? “Does a turtleneck make me look like I’m trying too hard?”
If it were anyone else, the laugh that Remus lets out would sound demeaning. It doesn’t though. It just sounds amused. “I think you’re overthinking this”, he says. “Believe me when I say no one cares what you wear. I’d much rather you just feel comfortable and enjoy your time and not worry too much about your clothes.”
“Hmm, that’s because you’re very much a superior human being”, Sirius mumbles, but does take a mental step back to look at the situation objectively. Who is he trying to impress? Who does he want to look good for? (Remus. The answer to both of these questions is Remus.) He takes out one of the turtlenecks, a soft one that’s a thin cashmere knit, the colour a grey so dark it’s almost black. “I do like this one. It’s so soft.”
Sirius gets up and changes into the turtleneck, pulling his hair out of the neck and twisting the arms until the seams line up nicely. It’s a very slim fit, and the ribbing hugs him pleasantly as he smooths the fabric across his chest and stomach. He looks at himself from the mirror, turning this way and that, then looks at Remus.
“What do you think? This one and the black jeans?”
Remus looks up from the book, and in seconds there is a dusting of pink across his cheeks. “No.” His voice is hoarse, delicious. “No, you can’t wear that.”
The look in his eyes is already answer enough, dark and intense and hungry, but Sirius asks anyway, a warmth in his chest and a very insistent pull in his lower abdomen. “Really? And why not?” He tilts his head innocently, knowing fully well he’s just taunting Remus.
“Because I’ll just want to rip it off of you all night, and that’s just not socially acceptable.”
For some reason, Sirius has not been expecting Remus to just outright say that, and it makes his mouth dry and palms clammy. Sure, there has been no doubt in his mind that Remus finds him attractive, it has been clear in every look and touch, every kiss. But knowing that is still a very different feeling from hearing it said out loud, just like that. It buzzes under Sirius’ skin, jolting up his spine as he walks up to the bed and sits next to Remus, taking the book from his hands and setting it aside.
“And what if I told you”, he says, leaning in very close but not pressing their lips together, not quite, “that after the party you can do just that? If you still want to?”
There are so many shades of amber in Remus’s eyes; Sirius could spend the rest of his life trying to name all of them. But at that moment, rather than colours, Sirius sees emotions. He sees things he’s feeling himself reflected back to him, in the look, in the smile, in the touch. Remus’s hand finds his hip and his fingers play with the hem of the turtleneck, and Sirius’ skin burns in the best way in places where they touch. When he breathes out, the air comes out a little shaky, and he leans his body closer, almost lying on top of Remus.
Remus presses their foreheads together. “I will always want to”, he breathes, then kisses Sirius, and it’s a good thing Sirius isn’t standing up because his knees would have given out the instant their lips touch. “I’ll always want to be with you, to be close to you.” Fingers on his back, under the shirt, climbing up his spine and leaving lasting sensations on his skin. “Make love to you, in any way that you feel comfortable with.”
Sirius practically melts into the next kiss, carding his hands in Remus’s hair and feeling like no matter what he does, he will never get close enough. He wants to crawl under Remus’s skin, climb into his chest and make a home there, and even then, he wouldn’t be as close to Remus’s soul as he wants to. He can feel the hunger that he saw in Remus’s eyes, but he’s not sure if he feels it in Remus’s touch or in his own actions, latching onto his desire to just touch Remus everywhere. Everywhere. He’s not sure he’s felt an urge quite like this ever before in his life.
I love you, Sirius thinks, and feels it thought back at him in every kiss, every swipe of tongue, every small burst of breath that leaves Remus’s lips in almost a sigh. There’s no doubt in his mind that Remus feels the same, and when Remus pulls him on top of him and turns them to lie on their sides on the bed, all Sirius can really do is try to crawl even closer and closer, cursing the layers of clothing they’re both wearing.
With the last of his brain cells, Sirius is just about to throw caution to the wind and suggest that they skip the Christmas party and just go back to the cottage already, but before he can form a full sentence there’s a knock on the door.
(Later, Sirius will be a little embarrassed to realise the door wasn’t even fully closed. How far would he have been willing to go with the door open, had they not been interrupted? The startling fact is that Sirius knows that, in that pocket of time, he would have done just about anything, outsiders be damned.)
“Okay, lads. It’s almost party time!” It’s a small mercy that James, in his kindness and wisdom, grants Sirius this little bit of privacy and doesn’t open the door any further, choosing to instead talk to them through it. Sirius closes his eyes and rolls onto his back, not really wanting to separate from Remus but knowing he needs to if he wants to actually hear and register what James is saying. “Lily and I are dropping Harry off at Frank’s, I just got the text that the babysitter’s there already. And then we’ll meet you at the party?”
Remus doesn’t let Sirius move far. He keeps touching him, keeps pressing open mouthed kisses to Sirius’s neck and making Sirius’s life all around wonderful, if only a little bit difficult to process. “Oh, fucking hell”, Sirius mumbles, holding his hand to Remus’s neck and feeling him laugh against him. “Yeah”, he says a little louder and clears his throat, “yeah, we’ll be there. Drive safe.” He knows James can read his voice like a book, and this just makes him blush harder.
“Will do.” Sirius can hear James starting to walk away. “Lock up, Padfoot. And don’t be late!”
By the time the last of Harry’s babbling and James’ talking back end with the front door closing, Sirius has managed to regain his composure and sit up. Remus plays with the fingers of his right hand, clearly not wanting to let him go just yet. Sirius just loves him.
“Right.” Sirius squeezes Remus’s fingers and stands up. “I’m going to change my pants, and then I’m going to need a moment or two to beautify myself.”
“Well, that’s just silly; how would you even make yourself even more beautiful?” Sirius dismisses the flirt with a smile and a roll of his eyes, then quickly changes into the black skinny jeans he plans on wearing to the party. He’s looking for his hair brush when Remus speaks again, this time a little more hesitantly, almost like he’s not sure he should ask. “Will you be alright with us arriving together?”
There hasn’t even been any discussion about it; Sirius has just assumed they would be going to the party together, and they would be leaving together. Same with New Year’s Eve. He furrows his brows, confused, and looks at Remus again, the brush in his hand all but forgotten. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Remus opens and closes his mouth a few times, indicating he doesn’t quite know how to say what he wants to. In the end, he takes a sharp breath and lets it all out in one big burst. “Well. I just don’t know how public you want to be, I guess.” Then, like he’s afraid of how Sirius might react to that, he continues quickly: “And I’m game with whatever you choose to do. I really am. So I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to just because you think I might like another solution.”
Sirius looks at him, then puts the hair brush down on top of the dresser and turns to pick up his jewellery box to bring to the bed. He doesn’t want to answer the question without thinking it through first, measuring his words, so he sits down and opens the box while thinking of their options.
He has known this conversation was coming for a while now, and he feels a little stupid for not thinking of a way to settle it beforehand. He picks up rings from their designated compartment, placing each of them on his fingers and taking them off one by one after seeing how they fit together. Having something to do with his hands does help him think, and in the end, he just wants to do justice to Remus and what the two of them have together – but also to himself, because he has learned the hard way that he does deserve to be happy and seen.
Sirius takes a deep breath while looking through his earrings. “I don’t want to hide. Not anymore. I have spent so much of my life thinking about what I can say, how much I can share, who I can be seen with... I don’t want to do that anymore.” He gives Remus a quick look from under his fringe, already blushing at his next words. “I want to show you off, make everyone see you and how happy you make me and say, ‘look! Look at him! He chose me!’” He can feel his smile turning soft and sappy. “’This beautiful, beautiful man chose me.’ Isn’t that something?”
With that same smile, Sirius looks up at Remus properly, blindly putting on some dainty ruby earrings he got from Lily and James a few years back. Remus is looking at him with eyes that sparkle more than the jewellery, and once his hands are free Sirius sets the box aside again and takes both of Remus’s hands in his.
“But at the same time I...” he says, playing with Remus’s fingers, then starts again. “You know, I don’t think it’s time for me to share with the world yet. I’m not ready to do that, not after...” After the article. After disappearing from the world that he knows. After what he is only now learning to be years and years of suffocation from his record label for reasons he still doesn’t understand. “But sharing you with the town? Oh, that I can do.”
He knows that the Christmas party is important to Remus; it seems to be important to a lot of people, and not only because it’s the one big communal event of the town. From the sounds of it, it’s an annual ow stress party, a way for the community to get together before the most intense part of the holiday season, to just enjoy a night out together with drinks and laughter. Sirius is not the only one who has mixed feelings about Christmas – and this town has turned their joined nervous energy into something far nicer than just staying at home alone with a bottle of wine and a record player.
Sirius can appreciate that.
With a soft smile, Sirius leans in to kiss Remus again. He works really hard not to let the kiss linger – well, linger too much, that is. They really don’t want to be late from the party and face James’ wrath. “I would be honoured to arrive at the Christmas party with you, Remus.”
**
Once they arrive at the pub, Remus is instantly pulled into a rowdy sort of conversation, and Sirius waves him off with a laugh and a smile. He watches him go, choosing to stay near the door and just look around until he finds someone he actually recognises or until Remus, James or Lily comes over to scold him for not being sociable.
Mary has gone all out in decorations – or, Sirius guesses, whoever it is that has been in charge of decorating the place. There are lots of fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, along with different sized glittering gold stars. On the other side of the space, Sirius sees a Christmas tree tucked into a corner and decorated with gold tinsel, colourful lights and what looks like small glass ornaments; Sirius can’t make the shapes this far away. Under the many joyful conversations, Christmas music can be heard, and after listening for a while Sirius can tell it’s a nice mixture of punk covers and holiday classics.
Sirius liked the pub when he first came in, and now he can safely say that he adores it. He’s really going to have to make a real effort to come over more, come the new year. There’s a beginning of a smile on his lips when he looks at the people in the small space, but it freezes on his face when he sees a determined figure that he doesn’t recognise making their way straight towards him.
Usually when Sirius is out at an event and someone approaches him, he already has his media smile plastered on his face and his shoulders squared straight. He knows he’s being approached by either a fan or a business person, but sometimes it’s hard to figure out which one. Most of the time people just want to shake his hand and get pictures, but every so often someone is hostile from the start and wants him to comment on whatever human rights violation his parents and Black Industries are involved in that time. Those people really take the fun out of meeting anyone else.
Either way, this experience is very different from the get-go – when the stranger approaches him and he gets a good look at her face, it’s decidedly not with a hungry gleam in her eyes, but rather a curious delight.
“Hi! You’re Sirius, right?” she smiles, holding out her hand for Sirius to shake, and Sirius takes it, a little dumbfounded. “Harry talks about you constantly. I’m Alice.” And Sirius is very good at faking a reaction like he sees the connection, but this time he’s not fast enough, and Alice’s smile turns into a grin. “My husband Frank plays football with James.”
And then it clicks. “Frank! Right! Of course.” Sirius has only seen Frank once across the field, but has heard about him enough this past week, as well as about his son Neville. Apparently, Harry and Neville were born in the same week, and they have just recently declared that this makes them brothers, no matter what their parents tell them. (And it would be pretty hypocritical of James to deny this from Harry, anyway, given that he himself is such a big advocate of found family.) “It’s nice to meet you! Harry seems quite taken with Neville, from what I’ve heard.”
Alice is one of those people who have an infectious smile and a charming laugh. Sirius is a little bit in awe of her. “They’re very fond of each other, yes. I think it’s good for Neville to have a friend like Harry, he tends to get in his head a bit if he’s without friends for too long.” She loops her arm around Sirius’, like they’ve known each other for ages, and starts leading him towards the bar. “Come. Let’s get drinks. Lily told me you and James used to get into all sorts of trouble when you were in school, and I want to hear all about it.”
After that, joining the other groups in the party is easy. Sirius gets introduced to two dozen new people, and he forgets half of their names by the time he leaves but it doesn’t look like it’ll be the end of the world. He is constantly joined by either Alice or Lily or James or Peter – and once Remus finds him again, they lock their hands together and don’t let go all night. He’s like a constant anchor attached to Sirius’ hand, grounding when he feels adrift and calming when a sudden panic looms over him, but also a steady reminder that he’s simply there, and Sirius loves him so much, and –
All in all, it might be one of the best nights of Sirius’ life.
And that’s before the wine takes effect and Remus gets... a little handsy. It starts small, and it takes Sirius a moment to even notice, but once he does it’s hard not to.
It’s not that Remus is drunk. Hardly. Sirius has never seen Remus drunk, but he highly doubts this is it. It’s more that he seems to feel comfortable around these people, combined with the wine and the proximity to Sirius and – well, Sirius would be lying if he said their earlier make out session didn’t still affect him, so it’d be fair to assume it still affects Remus, too.
There’s a nice, warm haze at the edges of Sirius’ vision and the music drums pleasantly in his veins. Remus is glued to his side, and they’re swaying a little, not necessarily to the music in the pub but to a music of their own making. He’s not drunk, just pleasantly buzzed and relaxed enough that when someone on the other end of the bar bursts out in a loud laugh Sirius isn’t even startled, he just smiles and leans to the wall with Remus. It’s almost like they’re in their own little bubble, right there in the middle of it all.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Sirius mumbles just loud enough for Remus to hear him over the music and other noise, then smiles when Remus pulls him closer by his hips.
Remus kisses him, right there for all to see. Sure, it’s a dim corner of a crowded pub, full of people in various state of intoxication, but it is still a crowded bar, and Sirius feels nervous and giddy and cherished. “Yes”, Remus says when they break for air, “I am.” He reaches out a hand and tucks a strand of Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Sirius has always wanted for someone to do that; now his knees feel wobbly. “But truthfully, the best part of the evening is that I get to go home with you.”
Sirius grins. He’s wearing his favourite heeled combat boots, but he still needs to reach up a bit to kiss Remus properly. “I one hundred per cent agree.” He looks at Remus, and Remus looks like a daydream come to life, and he just has to kiss him again. And again, and again, until they’re both breathless and the kisses get too much for such a public place. “I almost wish we could leave now.”
It feels nice, feeling the smile appear on Remus’s lips where they’re pressed against Sirius’ cheek. It makes Sirius nuzzle closer almost on instinct. “I mean, we could”, Remus whispers. It’s then that Sirius notices that his hands have travelled lower from his hips. “Who’s going to stop us?”
“James might.”
Remus pulls back, looks at Sirius. His eyes flash at the challenge. “Let him try.”
And so they go. They leave the pub, giggling and leaning on each other, and the cold December air sobers them up quickly but it doesn’t diminish their joy. On the way, they talk about the decorations and the playlist, and Sirius tries to point out constellations in the sky but ends up having to admit that he has forgotten all that he learned when he was eleven – Remus knows more about the myths and stories, anyway, the legends that were not tainted by toxic family values and lessons that little boys need to learn the hard way.
It’s not a long walk from the pub to the cottage; on a regular day, Sirius could walk it in less than ten minutes. They take their time, though, and it feels like one of their afternoon walks, the ones that they’ve had all autumn, even before they kissed and really got together. Sirius thinks back to that time and almost laughs at his own terrible flirting, his incapability to see that Remus really is interested in him; he wonders if everyone was able to see through the both of them as easily as he can see now, if they really were both so obvious in their attraction.
“I think I knew, from the second that I met you, that we’d end up here”, Sirius mumbles, leaning heavily against Remus’s side as they walk. “Not consciously, obviously. Far from that. What I’m trying to say is...” He lets out a laugh, a little incredulous, like it’s a lingering effect from the alcohol. “I mean, I think my heart knew, even then. It just took my mind a little bit to catch up.”
Remus hums under his breath. “It’s a very nice thought”, he says. Wistful, dreamy, timeless. “I’d like to think that my heart knew, too. That it somehow recognised yours.” When Sirius looks, Remus turns to smile at him. “It’s very romantic. Like something out of a story book.”
There’s an underlining promise, there, that Sirius hears. A promise that they will get their fairytale ending. Maybe they already have? Sirius thinks about it when they walk up the steps to the cottage, how most fairytales end when the monster is killed and the kingdom is saved. When the princess finds her prince. How is that the end? To Sirius, it feels more like a new beginning. He has found his prince, but then maybe he’s still fighting his monster, saving his kingdom, because this is nowhere close to the end yet.
Once inside, Sirius puts their coats in their hangers while Remus locks the door. He can feel the tension in the air, the expectations set between them earlier that night. He knows he can say no; for once in his life, Sirius knows for sure that it won’t end in disappointment and resentment. That’s the kind of security he hasn’t had before, not really, and that’s the feeling that makes Sirius pull Remus into a searing kiss, lead him into the bedroom, practically continue right where they left off before the Christmas party.
It’s easy to be this uninhibited with Remus. Sirius no longer feels self-conscious about touching Remus, kissing him, sighing when Remus’s tongue laves at his neck. Remus clocked him from the very start: he is a very vocal person, and before Remus he never knew just how vocal. His body responds to Remus’s at every turn, and there are little whines between gasps, whimpers between gulps of air. Sirius would be embarrassed if he heard these noises as an outsider, but now it all just adds to the sanctity of the night, like a psalm of worship of a deity Sirius has only now found.
“You were so radiant tonight”, Remus breathes against his skin, and Sirius can feel a pleased shiver run down his spine. Is it the words? Is it Remus’s hands up, down, all over his body? “So beautiful. And all mine.”
Many people have called Sirius beautiful; no one has ever called him theirs. Remus helps the turtleneck off him, over his head, and Sirius drops down on the bed, hair fanning all around his head and heart beating fast in anticipation, fully ready for Remus to just do as he pleases with. “Yours”, he gasps, Remus’s eyes pinning him into the mattress. Sirius wouldn’t want to move even if he could. “Definitely yours.”
The words seem to give Remus some incentive to attack Sirius’ body anew, and it’s like Sirius is being consumed; he can feel Remus everywhere on his skin, all at once, and it’s almost too much, but he wants more and more, just more of everything, but he doesn’t know how to ask. He doesn’t need to, though, because whenever a need arises, Remus is already there, ready to serve and eager to please, and his words – oh, his words. He truly is a master of them.
And no one has ever touched Sirius the way Remus touches him. No one has held him like this, no one’s hands have felt this good. At this point, Remus already knows exactly what makes him tick, what makes him gasp for air, what makes his whole body putty in his hands – and he knows exactly what to do with the knowledge. Sirius has always thought of himself as someone who really knows what he’s doing in the bedroom, no matter how into it he actually is or isn’t in his heart, but Remus? Remus is on another level entirely. Sirius doesn’t know if it’s because Remus is more experienced, or because they’re more compatible in what they want, or because the emotional connection Sirius has with him is deeper than anything he has ever experienced, but honestly? Right now, he doesn’t care to know why.
“Lift your hips for me, love”, Remus whispers against the skin by his navel, and Sirius does as he’s told without a second thought. Remus rewards him with a kiss on his hip as he peels the jeans off. “Good. Thank you, baby.”
Sirius doesn’t know when Remus has picked up on it – he's not sure he has quite understood it himself. But there’s a distinct way Remus says things when they’re like this, a very specific way of thanking him, of saying he’s good, and beautiful, and desirable. In a way, Sirius lives for applause from complete strangers, from fans and the media. He literally gets paid based on the amount of praise he gets from everyone. But this, here, with Remus over him, around him, inside him, it’s something different, something more pure and sacred and delicate than a performance, more meaningful and defining than a job.
It’s another proof that Remus sees him, all of him, in a way that no one else has seen him before, and that he rejoices in what he sees.
After, in his endorphin high, Sirius stares at the ceiling and listens as Remus’s heart beat gradually slows down to its normal rhythm. There is a string of lyrics floating around in his head, one that he wants to write down somewhere, but it dissolves into a cloud of sparkling dust before he can get a hold of it. Remus keeps drawing patterns into his skin, just under his rib cage, where he has a tattoo of decaying flowers that takes over a vast expanse of skin.
No – not patterns. It takes him a while to notice, but eventually Sirius recognises them as letters. Four of them, repeating over and over again. He’s sure that Remus can feel how his pulse picks up, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything, and Sirius burrows closer to him under the covers, closes his eyes and dreams.
Mine.
**
Sirius feels jittery when he hears the car door slam. He can hear them talking as they walk to the door, and he can hear Harry running to greet them, just like he did when Sirius arrived in August, but nothing prepares him for the burning feeling behind his eyes when he gets downstairs with Remus and sees Euphemia and Fleamont Potter for the first time in what feels like an entire lifetime.
For a moment, Sirius feels like a small child again, watching James greet his parents and feeling a pang in his chest, a longing for something he hasn’t known was missing in his life. To this day, he doesn’t remember a moment in his childhood where he would have felt an ounce of mother’s love from the woman who gave birth to him, but the second that the little pocket-sized Sirius was introduced to Euphemia she looked at him with such warmth and compassion that it choked Sirius – still does, from time to time.
Mother’s love. It’s a cliché, and half the time Sirius is of the mind that it’s meaning and importance in media is over exaggerated and warped. But for a child who never felt it in his own home... it was everything.
“Oh, look at you”, she now exclaims, taking James’ face between her hands and not even wincing at the loud and delighted screech that Harry lets out after being picked up upside down by her husband. “You look more and more like your father every time I see you! So handsome. Oh, did you know you’re right about the age now that he was when I first met him?”
“I know, Mom”, James grins, then kisses her offered cheek as a greeting. “You said the same thing last summer.” Then he ducks quickly to avoid the playful swat she’s giving towards the back of his head.
“And you”, Euphemia says, turning to Sirius and looking at him with her hands on her hips, stern like she was when Sirius switched salt and sugar in every container in the kitchen. Sirius gulps. Remus’s hand on his back stables him just enough that he doesn’t fall. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me? I’ve been worried sick about you, and James doesn’t tell me anything.”
“I tell you plenty –”
“Not the things that I worry about.” She gives James a look that makes even Sirius feel ashamed, then steps up to pull Sirius into the warmest hug he has gotten since the last time he saw her. When she speaks again, her voice has gotten softer, calmer. “You need to call me, you hear me? When you’re in trouble, or when you’re scared, or when you don’t know what to do. You call your mother. Do you understand me?”
Euphemia is a tiny woman, but her hugs are bigger than the whole world. Sirius feels like an infant in her arms, safe and secure and comfortable, and when the tears come so suddenly, he doesn’t fight them. “Yes, Mom. I’m sorry.”
Her hand on the back of his head soothes him, holds him close. Like many times before, Sirius wonders what it would have been like to be small and have this, have a mother who cares. “It’s alright, baby. It’s alright. I’m here.”
Sirius was never worried about Euphemia accepting him fully. He has a funny feeling that she actually knew – or at least suspected – about his sexuality long before he himself had any words to link to it. It has never been a point of discussion in the Potter household, and even when James made a huge deal about coming out as pan to his parents back when they were seventeen, Sirius never really felt the need to say anything. He now wonders if he should have; if it would have been more respectful not to assume they knew, and rather just come out and say it.
“I’m sorry”, he whispers again. He doesn’t know what he’s sorry about – not calling her, or not telling her in the first place, or her beautiful silk blouse that he’s soaking now with his snot and tears. Possibly all three. That just makes him cry even more. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” He can’t stop saying it, even knowing realistically that she’s not looking for an apology from him.
It takes Sirius a hot minute to calm down – and by the time he does, he notices that everyone else has moved on to the living room, giving the two of them their moment. Sirius is grateful, but also quite embarrassed, because he had not been anticipating to break down like this when he saw Euphemia, even though now that he thinks about it maybe he should have. His bond with her has been special from the very start, and not calling her for lack of knowing what to say has been one of the most devastating things, putting pressure on his heart in a way nothing else really can.
(The continuing distance from Regulus comes close to that feeling. Sirius needs to do something about that, now that many other things are starting to click into place.)
Sirius pulls back from the hug. Euphemia is already smiling at him. “Oh, your blouse”, he says regretfully, reaching a hand towards the stains but stopping short, not really knowing what he could even do about them right now. “I’ll get it dry cleaned first thing tomorrow.”
“None of that now”, she tuts like only a mother can. “Silly boy.” Her words are a little reminiscent to the way Remus always calls him silly, and it makes Sirius smile, a little wet and wobbly but genuine like he’s only been relearning these past few months. She pats his cheek affectionately, wiping away any lingering tears. “There’s that smile I’ve been missing.”
Sirius almost whimpers and starts crying again, but instead squares his shoulders and takes her hand in his, pulling her towards the living room. “Come, sit, you’ve had a long drive. I bet James already has the kettle on.”
“I’ve done plenty of sitting today”, Euphemia jokes, but does follow Sirius to the couch, where she sits next to Fleamont and instantly gets a lapful of squirming Harry. “Oh! And where did this little monkey come from, hm? Did you escape from the zoo?”
Harry giggles in response, but Sirius is already looking at Fleamont, who looks older and greyer than the last time he saw him but not any less happy to be exactly where he is, squished into a love seat with his wife and an over excited toddler. He takes both of Sirius’ hands in his and gives them a squeeze, smiling with his eyes twinkling over the rim of his glasses.
“I’ve missed you, Kalai”, he says softly, and the childhood nickname punches the air out of Sirius’ lungs. “Mammy is right, you should call more, but I think she chewed your ear enough about that already.”
Sirius smiles and leans down to give Fleamont a kiss on the cheek as well. “I’ve missed you too, Dadi.” He remembers being twelve years old and calling Fleamont Dadi for the first time and being embarrassed immediately after. He remembers Monty’s warm smile and James’ delighted grin, and he also remembers how that night, when he was reluctantly leaving to go eat dinner at home, Fleamont called him Kalai and told him to come over again the next day. “You look well.”
Fleamont lets go of one of Sirius’ hands, only to pat the other and seal it in between his palms. “So do you, my boy. You look happy.” He looks up at his face, eyes flitting around the living room when James walks in with a tray laid with tea. “Family is good for you, Kalai.”
Sirius agrees, but he also knows that there’s more, in this case. He looks over his shoulder at Remus, who leans on the kitchen doorway; he looks like he doesn’t know if he really should be here, even though Sirius knows he belongs in this room just as much as the rest of them.
He’s gone over this moment in his head again and again, but he still doesn’t quite know what to say. In a way, he has made it a bigger deal than it really is – Effie and Monty already know Remus, and even if they didn’t, don’t they always say they just want to see both of their sons happy and thriving? Sirius is doing just that (personally, that is, and he’s working on the professional part), so there’s quite literally nothing they could possibly object to.
When Sirius stands up straight, Remus mirrors his movement, then takes a hesitant step forward. Sirius bites his lip nervously, but tries to give an encouraging smile at the same time. He’s sure the end result is somewhere between a grin and a grimace, but Remus doesn’t comment on it. “Dadi, Mom –” Sirius says, feeling like he needs to clear his throat but only managing a pathetic little hacking sound. He can feel James’ eyes on him from the other side of the coffee table, drilling curious holes into his head. “I want you to meet Remus.”
Because he’s looking, Sirius sees the way both Effie and Monty look at Remus, then each other, then turn their eyes to Sirius. There’s a slightly confused smile on Effie’s face that makes Sirius blush. “Oh. Yes. Didn’t we meet before?”
Sirius lets out a nervous laugh. “Yes, but.” He takes half a step back and reaches a hand blindly behind him, his heart soaring when Remus takes it not two seconds later. He takes a deep breath. ”But not since he’s been mine.”
It takes very little time for an enormous smile to break on Effie’s face, her eyes sparkling the same way James’ do when he’s the happiest. Fleamont is still holding onto Sirius’ other hand, so he can feel him squeeze it tightly, warmly, in either joy or excitement, Sirius is not sure. He’s also not sure if it’s his hand trembling or Remus’s, but they both hold on with dear life, supporting each other and standing united in what is looking to be a very nice moment.
That is, until Harry jumps down from Effie’s lap with a loud thump, stomps his foot and gives Sirius the angriest look he has seen from him in all his four years.
“No!” he screams loud enough for all the adults to jump a bit, startled by his sudden change of mood. His hands are balled into little fists and he’s shooting daggers from his eyes, and it would be kind of funny if Sirius wasn’t feeling so distraught for being the object of such anger. “He’s my Uncle Moony, and you can’t have him!”
And with that, he runs off, out of the room and by the sounds of it up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him. And what breaks Sirius’ heart is the sound of a wailing cry that starts halfway up the stairs and grows loud enough that it can still be heard through the closed door. It leaves all of them in a momentary shock, looking at each other without knowing what to say, until James lets out a long suffering sigh of a father who has to deal with this in growing frequency.
“I’d better go after him before he works himself into a more of a state –”
“No, I’ll go”, Remus says, surprising Sirius. When he turns to look, there’s a small apologetic smile on Remus’s lips, a little lopsided and very cute. “I have a feeling he’ll have to hear from me that Uncle Moony’s not going anywhere.”
He leaves the room, running his hand down Sirius’ arm as he walks past him. Sirius looks after him, thinking he really got very lucky with this guy.
(It only registers to Sirius later, much later, that he’s not sure if he’s heard Harry call Remus Uncle Moony before. Moony, sure, all the time, but since when has he been upgraded to Uncle status?)
“Hari will get over it”, Fleamont says. Sirius looks at him; Effie is right, James is the splitting image of his father. “Once he sees that nothing has changed, except that you and Remus are both that much happier.” His eyes twinkle when he turns to look at James, who has been pouring them cups of tea and is now handing them out. “Ah, Jaya, do you have anything to spike this with? I believe we should celebrate.”
It seems to Sirius that they have been celebrating this very thing quite a bit already, but James merely smirks and winks at Sirius before going to get something from his liquor cabinet.
“Sit down, love”, is Effie’s response, and she is one big smile as she pats her husband on the shoulder. “Monty, move over, I want to sit by our boy. I need to hear everything about this development.”
As Sirius sits down next to the woman that is his mother in all but blood; as James makes him drink a spiked tea that smells vile and tastes even worse; as Lily comes home from meeting her sister and brings even more joy with her; as Remus later emerges from Harry’s room carrying a now giggling Harry in his arms and happily perching himself on the arm rest at Sirius’ end of the couch –
Sometimes, things need to get a little worse before they get much better, and when they do, everything clicks into place and creates a harmony that Sirius will chase to the ends of the world.
**
That year, Christmas is quite possibly the happiest Sirius has had in his life, and he buries every moment of it in his memories; it’ll be hard to top this one, and yet Sirius has a funny feeling that somehow his happiest years are only starting. He has everyone he loves most in this world right there, in the same house, around the same table, and when he looks around during dinner and feels Remus’s hand reach for his he can feel his heart almost burst. The food is a mix of traditional English recipes that have been passed down in Lily’s family for generations and Indian party dishes that were in the background of James’ childhood, along with Sirius’. The house has smelled like sugar and spices for days, and every day when Sirius has walked in there have been Christmas music playing and laughter and stories woven into every silence.
Harry still seems to be a little miffed about Sirius calling Remus his; he clings to Remus’s arm any chance he gets and refuses to eat anywhere except next to him. It’s an adjustment period, and it’s Christmas, so the adults are willing to let the demands slide a bit, and Sirius refuses to get nervous about it before a few weeks have passed. And it’s not like Harry is angry at Sirius, it’s more that he’s scared he won’t get to spend time with his uncles anymore. It’s an easy fix, they just have to constantly show him everything will stay more or less the same.
During dessert, Sirius gets up to use the bathroom, and when he gets back he stops at the doorway to the dining room. It’s like a scene from a movie, candles and colours and joy, and people talking and dishes clanking together and Monty’s booming laughter when he tells a story from his youth. It’s exactly the kind of thing Sirius is almost itching to post on his Instagram, and he even takes his phone out and snaps a few pictures to stare at later. He wants to remember these moments forever, and he’s even thinking about printing a bunch of the pictures he’s taken this autumn to put in frames.
(A part of him wants to scatter the pictures in cosy spots around the cottage. He’s been spending a lot of time there, and most of his belongings have travelled there with him, but he’s still hesitant to decorate – it's not like he actually lives there. Right?)
As he looks at the pictures he took, Sirius thinks back to the Christmases he used to have when he was really small. Not the banquets; not the formal dinners and itchy clothes and threats to only speak if spoken to. Not the wood block toys and antique spoons and leather bound books he got as present, not the year he simply got nothing because he acted out and gave his mother a migraine during Christmas dinner. No, what he thinks about is the nights after he has been sent to bed, when he would sneak into Regulus’ room and they would whisper about their secrets and try to catch Santa’s reindeers outside the window.
They were so small, back then; it’s hard to understand they were even the same people. They would make forts out of pillows and comforters in Regulus’ bed, and Sirius would steal a flashlight from the utility cabinet in the kitchen so that they could make shadow figures with their little hands. And Sirius would tell Regulus stories about Christmases where little kids got to eat all the chocolate they could get their hands on, and sleep on the living room carpet to see their presents first thing in the morning. They would play a game of dream Christmas, where they would imagine what they would ask for if they ever got a chance to: new bikes, different sweets other than fruit cake and prune pudding, maybe even a movie after dinner.
Maybe they weren’t the same people, back then, Sirius thinks now as he looks at Regulus’ number on his phone. He’s been looking at it for days now – a few times a day he would just open up his contacts list and look at the number there, so unassuming and yet mocking him simply by existing. It’s hard to even start going through the different emotions the stupid string of numbers rises in him. They call his name, consume his peaceful moments, won’t let him sit still.
Sirius doesn’t know what comes over him when he taps on the call icon. He doesn’t even have the time to react and disconnect the call before Regulus is already picking up, his voice small and hesitant and different but somehow exactly the same as Sirius remembers from years ago.
“Hey”, Sirius says, then clears his throat because he barely recognises his own voice. He turns away from the kitchen and walks back down the hall, away from the voices of the dining room. “Merry Christmas.”
It’s strange to think that after years of literally no contact his first words to his brother are something as generic as merry Christmas. It almost feels like he should have thought up something more profound, something clever and remarkable, but it’s not like he has been planning on calling Regulus at all.
There’s a beat of silence – not a long one but enough to recognise it’s there. “Merry Christmas.” Regulus’ voice rises at the end, making the statement almost a question. “I – why are you calling, Sirius?”
“Isn’t that why you told James to pass on your number to me?”
“I mean, yes, but – but that was weeks ago.” What took you so long, Sirius hears, and he swallows around a lump in his throat. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence stretches between them again, up until the point where it’s officially too late for him to say anything. Regulus speaks again, still hesitant but a little more courageous. “Are you still staying with Potter?”
He sounds different from his messages; those were curt and emotionless, borderline uninterested. The sentences are still short and to the point, but the voice that goes with them is far from emotionless – in fact, Sirius can hear more emotions than he can name. He feels the same way, and he has to close his eyes against the world to keep his focus on the conversation the best he can. The panic he’s been feeling since starting the call is like a constant pressure on his chest, but it doesn’t get worse, it just stays there, like a reminder.
“Yes, still in Whitehaven.” He doesn’t know why he doesn’t mention that he has not spent a night at the Potters’ house for two weeks; maybe it’s none of Regulus’ business. His nails dig painfully into his palm, and he makes a real effort to loosen his fist. It works a little. “What about you? Where are you?”
There are no noises in the background. Is Regulus spending the holiday on his own? “In London, for now. I’m packing up the place in Kensington.”
Sirius has never been to the flat in Kensington, but knowing their parents’ tastes, he can imagine it well enough. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” There’s a rustling sound, but only a small one. Not enough to give Sirius any clues about what Regulus is doing. “It’s in father’s name, so I’m going to move before the new year. I’m going to stay with a friend for a little bit.”
He says it in such a nonchalant way, like it’s not a big deal. But it is a big deal. Sirius swallows around nothing. He has to ask, but he’s not sure he wants to know. “Did – did they kick you out?”
“No.” Is Sirius just imagining the sharpness in Regulus’ voice? “I left.”
“Oh.”
It changes things. Sirius doesn’t yet know how much, but it does change them. Regulus has left Black Industries, and now he’s leaving the flat that was more or less given to him as a present for his eighteenth birthday. There’s a difference between merely leaving the company and leaving everything – Sirius knows that first hand.
It’s a lot to unpack. Sirius knows they won’t get to that in a phone call; not the first one, anyway. It’ll take time for both of them to trust each other, and who’s to say that Regulus even wants to tell him why he’s leaving? Sirius doesn’t know if his own interest is brotherly worry or if he’s just feeling noisy. Could it be both? Does he still have the right to worry about his little brother, even when they haven’t had a relationship in years? Sirius doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, and it bothers him that he doesn’t know, but at the same time he’s still angry.
Anger fades in time, but it can be reinforced. Hearing Regulus’ voice does that, but it also makes Sirius want to cry a little bit. It’s easy to admit that he misses his brother; what’s not as easy is figuring out which version he misses most, and if he can look past others to welcome the most missed ones back into his life.
“That song you wrote”, Regulus says to break the long, lingering silence, his voice smaller and more hesitant than earlier. “In your latest album. Seven? That’s about me, isn’t it?”
“A lot of my songs are about you, Reggie.” It’s true. Sirius is sure that if he told the public just how many of his songs are partly or entirely about Regulus instead of the torrid love affairs they always assume he keeps having, they wouldn’t believe him. “But yes. That one especially is about you.”
“You said in an interview it’s about your brother. They assumed you were talking about James.”
Regulus has been listening to his music and reading his interviews. Sirius doesn’t know if this is a new development or if his baby brother has been keeping up with his career for longer than he has let on. “Two things can be true.” Maybe Regulus has been keeping tabs on him since he left. How would Sirius know?
There’s another silence, during which Sirius desperately tries to think of something to say. It shouldn’t be this hard to think of conversation topics with someone you grew up with.
But then again – and this is where Sirius’ heart breaks anew – they didn’t exactly grow up together, did they? Not since they were very small. Sirius has a feeling that’s exactly what their parents wanted, pitting them against each other the way they did. Maybe the idea was to help drive them both into working harder; all it did was drive them apart.
After what feels like an eternity, Sirius can hear the rest of his family starting to migrate from the dining room, and he knows he only has so much time left until someone comes looking for him. He feels like he’s doing something he’s not supposed to, which is strange, because hasn’t pretty much everyone here tried to help him patch his relationship with Regulus at some point in his life? And yet, Sirius doesn’t want to talk about this to anyone, not really. He’s not sure what he’s going to say to Remus yet; he doesn’t wat to keep secrets, but he feels like he needs to process this on his own first.
“I’ve got to go”, he says to the phone, trying to not sound too rushed. He’s not that sure he succeeds. “Will – will you message me? You know, from time to time. Let me know where you are? And, um. That you’re okay?”
Sirius doesn’t know where the request comes from, but it’s not like he can take it back now. And if Regulus refuses, Sirius will understand that – it's a weird think to ask, given their history. But something in the way Regulus has been messaging James to get in touch with him tells him that things are about to change drastically.
“Um. Yeah. Sure, okay.” Sirius can hear Regulus swallow. Is he nervous? Or did he just get a drink? “Well, I guess I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” Sirius takes a deep breath, pressing his palm hard against his chest to ease the pressure. “Bye, Regulus. Merry Christmas, again.”
And there, in the last seconds of the call, Regulus almost sounds like the little boy in the hastily made fort, struggling to fold his tiny hands into a dog-like shadow figure. “Merry Christmas, Siri.”
The call drops. Sirius heaves out a dry sob.
Notes:
And though I can't recall your face
I still got love for you
Pack your dolls and a sweater
We'll move to India forever
Passed down like folk songs
Our love lasts so long
Chapter 13: December, part III
Summary:
Boy, do Sirius and Remus love a lot of things. The year changes. A backstory is discussed.
Notes:
another massive chapter. i spoil you guys.
i love the version of peter that i've created here. i hope you do, too. he's a very fun guy, and i hope i get to write more of him here soon.
TW: pregnancy talk, third-party references to a second trimester miscarriage
i consulted a friend on the part where they talk about the miscarriage. my goal is not to sensationalise a pain but rather show its effects on a family long term. i hope this chapter doesn't hurt anyone, but if you think this part might, you can stop reading when remus requests a song and resume when sirius says, "Are you taking a break from editing?"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Waking up the morning after Christmas, Sirius is glad that he told James the previous day that he would be skipping their run this morning. The reasons are very selfish, but as Sirius watches Remus slowly wake up, he really has no regrets.
It’s a true cliché, and Sirius keeps thinking of this every single day, but Remus is just the most beautiful person he has ever seen. He has the longest lashes and the reddest, most delicious lips, and since it’s winter now the freckles aren’t as visible as Sirius just knows they will be six months from now, and the more time Sirius spends with him the more he thinks that the prominent scar merely enhances Remus’s beauty. Sirius could spend hours just looking at him, and maybe he has already; he seems to lose all track of time when he has Remus all to himself, which just so happens to be every day for weeks on end.
At the first sight of fluttering eyes threatening to open, Sirius grins and presses his lips on Remus’s, swallowing the small startles noise right from the source. It’s an amazing feeling, getting to experience Remus waking up step by step just from how actively he responds to the kiss. And once he’s fully into it, Sirius is in a very lucky position to be pushed back until Remus is hovering over him, definitely the one in charge of the kiss now.
“I do love the way you wake me up”, Remus says, his voice hoarse and the vibrations of his chest very welcome and nice against Sirius’ body. “Keep this up and I may never have to set an alarm clock ever again.”
The implication isn’t lost on Sirius, who sighs wistfully into the next kiss and drapes his arms over Remus’s shoulders. “Mm, isn’t that the dream.” He plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck, twirling them around his fingers as the kisses linger. “I would be very happy to act as your personal alarm clock from now on, if you so desire.”
Remus smiles and nuzzles his cheek, and Sirius closes his eyes. It’s really remarkable that this fairytale is his actual life now; that he gets to wake up next to a truly god-like creature, that his mornings consist of warm caresses and so many kisses that he feels spoiled, that if he wants (and he often does), he can suggest breakfast in bed and Remus will probably say no at first but there will be a big smile, and all Sirius will have to do is bat his eyes and say please and it will happen anyway. His life feels surreal in the best way imaginable.
(Sometimes Sirius tries to imagine how he could even begin to explain his life to his younger self. He doesn’t know which one would be more unbelievable to a seven, eight, ten year old Sirius: the music career, or the man currently peppering kisses all over his face. He envisions a few heart attacks and a possible disbelieving laugh.)
“Hey.” There’s a finger tapping on Sirius’ cheek. Gently. Adoringly. “Guess what.”
Sirius feels a slow, happy, dreamy smile appear on his lips and opens his eyes, then kisses Remus on the corner of his mouth. “What?”
“It’s silly and childish.”
“I already love it.”
Remus huffs. He kisses Sirius once more, slow and soft, then leans back and looks at him for a good long moment before he speaks. “You’re my best friend.”
It’s not silly at all, or childish. It’s easy to mistake it as such, but it’s so far from both. Sirius feels like the air is punched right out of his lungs – he feels like that a lot, when Remus speaks. (Remus is very talented like that.) He looks at Remus and feels his eyes start to burn, and he tries to blink the feeling away but it’s not that easy when Remus’s finger keeps tapping on his cheek in a soothing rhythm and he keeps looking at Sirius like that.
And the way Remus says it... In the relatively short time that they have known each other, Remus hasn’t mentioned any other best friends. The entire town loves him, of course, and Lily is the closest thing he has to a sister, and Sirius has read between the lines that Remus is getting very close with Peter, Mary and Dorcas, as well. But something tells Sirius that’s not – that that’s not exactly what Remus means when he calls Sirius his best friend. It’s bigger than that. And Sirius just knows that Remus has been turning this around and around in that beautiful head of his, and so he knows it’s important. It’s everything.
Sirius carefully takes Remus’s face in his hands, admiring, and gives him one of those kisses where he tries to say a lot of things without actually saying anything. And when they pull apart, he says one of those things anyway. “I think you’re my best friend, too.” He keeps his voice a whisper, not trusting it not to waver.
Their noses slot next to each other quite nicely. Sirius keeps noticing these things, and they make his heart feel light. He never wants to stop noticing these things. “Not James?”
Sirius hums a no. “James is my brother.” And yes, James is his best friend, his platonic soulmate, but it’s so different to the way Remus is his best friend that the comparison is almost laughable. “You’re everything else.”
For the next good while (Sirius doesn’t bother looking, but if he had to guess he’d say it’s at least twenty minutes) is spent in a wonderful tangle of limbs, with kisses traded back and forth and maybe a few more items of clothing discarded to the floor. It truly is a very happy pocket of time, and judging by the dopey smile and amorous whispers Remus wholeheartedly agrees – and he really is very good with his words. Sirius has half a mind to ask him to collaborate on a song or two together. The problem is that he’s pretty sure the song writing sessions would turn into very different kind of sessions very fast, and in the end they wouldn’t get anything done.
As much as he loves writing songs and bouncing around ideas, Sirius is oddly fine with that possibility. He does, after all, love Remus more.
Once their breathing stables out again, Remus presses his lips against Sirius’ shoulder and stays there. Sirius relishes the feeling of his fingers running up and down the bare skin on his hip and side. The grandfather clock in the other room strikes nine times. Sirius knows that no matter how much he would like to stay in bed all day and just snooze and make out in perfect intervals, they do actually need to get up soon. The chickens need feeding, and Sirius wants to break out the waffle maker he got from James for Christmas. Remus has the last deadline for his manuscript tomorrow, so he needs to work on that. Not the busiest of days, but not one for lazing around all day.
Despite all that, Sirius is very much ready to fall back to sleep, content in Remus’s arms, when the man of the hour speaks – not that loud, very softly actually, like he’s afraid to break the magic. “I have one more present for you.”
Remus already gifted him a Bowie album on vinyl and a pair of wool socks he apparently knit himself. So far Remus is really winning in this gift giving game and Sirius feels a little self conscious about the set of monogrammed leather notebooks he gave him. And yet somehow it’s very on brand for Remus to be an amazing gift giver and Sirius is not one bit surprised.
“Oh do you now?” He’s already thinking of additional gifts he can surprise Remus with, just to get an upper hand.
“Mmh.” Remus leaves a kiss on his shoulder, then starts getting up. The cold air gives Sirius a chill when he lifts the comforter. “Would you like to see?”
“Lead the way.”
They put on their house coats (Sirius was thrilled to learn that Remus has almost an identical one to his and has been demanding they wear them ever since) and slippers. Remus does insist on putting on one of his softer jumpers under the house coat, but Sirius wouldn’t expect anything less than that. He then takes Sirius by the hand and leads him out of the bedroom, through the small hallway and into the living room, only stopping once they’re standing in front of the piano by the window.
Remus turns to look at Sirius and gestures awkwardly to the piano.
Sirius looks at the piano, then at Remus again. “Um. I – “
“I got it fixed.” Remus looks nervous. Sirius takes another look at the piano, and sure enough, there is decidedly less stuff on top of it. “And tuned. For you. Because you said that you used to love playing the piano but don’t get the chance that much anymore, and – well, I have one here, and it’s not like I use it myself? I thought it would be a good, safe space for you to relearn your first love.”
The way Sirius’ heart thumps against his ribcage almost painfully. He doesn’t know where this absolutely incredible specimen of a man came from, but he’s very glad they both found their way here on the same timeline. That’s the real miracle, if you think about it.
As he reaches out to open the lid, Sirius tries very had to keep his hand from shaking. He’s not very successful, and hence he needs to grip the wood extra hard to not let it slip from his fingers. The old Baldwin is really a thing of beauty, and Sirius would be a liar if he said his eyes haven’t lingered on it a few times since he started spending more time at the cottage. He has wondered what state it’s in, and maybe once or twice he has daydreamed about opening it up, sitting in front of it and pressing down on the keys.
Has Remus noticed? Has he seen Sirius looking, is that what initially gave him the idea? And calling piano Sirius’ first love – the mere idea that he’s even picked up on that, when Sirius is sure he has never put it like that when talking about it with Remus... He already knew that Remus is incredibly sharp-eyed as well as the most considerate person on this planet, and yet this development has still taken him by surprise.
Remus keeps surprising Sirius at every turn. For Sirius, surprises have usually meant something was going on with his family, or there was a threat on his brand that needed to be resolved. Surprises meant Sirius wasn’t in control of what was happening, and it made him feel adrift and small, and it made his anxiety and panic attacks worse. But this is so different; Remus keeps surprising him over and over again, and instead of anxious Sirius feels delighted, because he trusts Remus completely. He trusts Remus with his heart and with his soul, and Remus knows him – Sirius knows now – better more fully than anyone ever has.
Sirius presses on the keys, and sure enough, they’re perfectly in tune. That’s where the perfections stop, though; as he plays a short little melody, then two minor chords, he grins at the wonderfully imperfect sound of the old piano, exactly right for the atmosphere of the rest of the cottage. He turns to look at Remus. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Remus smiles softly at him. Sirius thinks his eyes might actually sparkle. “Of course I did.” He steps closer and pulls Sirius into a half hug, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I would do anything for you”, he mumbles, and Sirius isn’t sure he is meant to hear it, but it makes his heart burst anyway.
“Now, that’s a very dangerous thing to tell me”, he says, his smile a little wobbly on his lips. He hates that he keeps crying so much, but Remus just makes it easy for him to let go. He wraps his arms around Remus’s waist for a proper hug. “I might start a whole list of demands.” They stand like that, in each other's arms, for a long moment, during which Sirius listens to Remus’s heartbeat and matches his breathing to it. “Thank you.”
Sirius thinks he might be able to feel Remus’s smile, even though it’s virtually impossible. “Happy Christmas, my love.”
**
There is no real piano stool anywhere in the cottage, but Remus finds an unused wooden stool from the spare room that Sirius thinks could work for now. He sits on it in front of the piano and scrolls through his phone, already ordering a piano stool that will match the dark wood of the Baldwin, and once he’s done with that, he puts the phone away and just stares at the keys for a moment.
He has played the piano since running away from home; of course, he has. It’s just that, little by little, it has turned into something he’s doing out of obligation instead of joy. And he does want to change that, he has wanted that for a long time now, probably longer than he realises. But taking that first step is difficult, as it is with most important things in life, and Sirius has learned that a lot of times he needs help with that first step. James is the one who helped him get out of an abusive home; Fleamont helped him make the decision to start pursuing a music career; Marlene has helped him with so many decisions throughout his career; and it was James, again, who helped him escape by providing a safe place to run to.
And now it’s Remus. It’s Remus who helps him find his love for playing the piano again, sitting in the office with the door open and working on his manuscript, providing a calm environment and giving him space at the same time. It’s so thoughtful of him, Sirius thinks, to even in the middle of his own deadline stress make sure that Sirius knows he can come to Remus for comfort if he needs it. There’s no pressure for Sirius to play, no expectations, and that gives Sirius the freedom to just –
He places his hands on the keys. Takes a deep breath. Then plays.
Once Sirius really starts, his fingers fly over the keys like possessed, like no time has passed, like he never stopped. He plays a song after a song after a song, both his own songs and the classical pieces he was made to learn since he was four years old. He plays Bowie and Beethoven, Chicago and Chopin, Stevie Nicks and Strauss. He plays simple scales and nonsensical melodies, he plays confidently from his heart and fumbling from long lost memory. He plays until his fingers hurt because he hasn’t used them like this in ages, and even then he only takes a small break to stretch, then he sits down again and plays, plays, plays.
It goes on like that for what feels like hours. The clicking of Remus’s computer keyboard works like a metronome, making Sirius smile and play a little softer to hear it better. It’s a constant back and forth, playful and fun, until the clicking eventually slows down and stops. Judging by the deep breath Remus takes, Sirius guesses he has reached a point where he just really needs to take a break.
Sirius makes an effort not to pause his playing when he hears Remus get up and walk to the office door. He can feel his eyes on him, on the side of his face and on his fingers as they dance on the keys in a dance of their own making. The latest melody is one he’s had stuck in his head for days now, but it didn’t feel like one he could play on the guitar well enough to make it justice.
“Hello”, he says, tilting his head a bit to the side, the smile instantly appearing on his lips without a permission.
“Hello”, Remus answers, and Sirius doesn’t have to look to know he’s smiling too. “Is this one yours? I can’t say I recognise it.”
“Well, it’s not really much of a song. Not yet anyway.” Sirius plays a few more notes to let the melody fade out naturally, then just looks at the keys for a while. “Not sure it will ever be, honestly. I haven’t decided yet.”
Remus hums in thought. He really does do that a lot. It’s one of those things about Remus that are so very Remus that it would be weird if they were missing. He wonders if Remus has a list of things about him as well; if anyone he has been with has a list. He thinks that maybe, if anyone, Remus would, and that list would probably be colour coded and have subsections. It sounds like another very Remus thing. (Sirius is dying to see this hypothetical list.)
“Will you play me one?” Remus asks, and if it were anyone else it would irk Sirius. But it’s Remus, so it doesn’t. It really doesn’t, and he’s almost baffled by that.
“Which one would you like?” he asks, turning around slightly to look. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to the look Remus always seems to have in moments like this. A little string of melody enters his heart, so quiet he doesn’t quite hear it yet, but there firmly enough that he knows he’ll have time to explore it later.
Remus leans against the doorway, and his smile is playful. Mischievous. “One that no one else has heard before.”
Sirius has a lot of songs he hasn’t published, dozens of them. A few demos have leaked online, but he has so many he’s been keeping under lock and key, on top of all the ones that are not really done yet. He turns back towards the piano and lets his hands rest on the keys, pressing on a few here and there and trying to decide which one to play for Remus. He feels like Remus deserves one of the more vulnerable ones, the ones he’s having the hardest time with.
He throws a smile Remus’s way, drawing his shoulders back into a better posture. “I’ll play you one if you sit down”, he says, trying on a few chords to find the right ones, playing time until he can hear Remus chuckle and sit down in one of the arm chairs.
And then he starts.
It’s a sad song, and maybe it’s the wrong one to play at this moment. It will very likely bring the mood down, at least for a moment, but the song has been in his mind a lot lately, with Lily’s due date approaching. Sirius isn’t the one the song is about, and it’s not his pain, but he’s a witness to that pain, and since he knows Remus is too (to a degree he doesn’t exactly know yet), it feels like a thing he can share with him.
The melody takes Sirius over, and he can feel the same pressure building in his chest again that he has been associating with this song since its creation. He used to cry a lot when he wrote it, and the devastation bleeds through still, even months later. The songwriter in him takes it as a good sign, that the song will evoke big emotions in listeners time and time again; the human in him feels a little guilty. He’s not sure he’s ever going to release the song, and songwriting is his way to process and go through things, but he still feels a bit dirty about the song for as long as he keeps it a secret. He’ll have to share with Lily and James eventually, and that makes him nervous. Playing the song to Remus feels like a good trial for that, too.
“That’s beautiful”, Remus says once the last notes have died down and they have sat there in silence for maybe a full minute. “Incredibly sad, though. Like, melancholy and painful.” Trust Remus to simply get it right away. Sirius smiles at his hands a little bit. “Does it have lyrics yet?”
Sirius gets up and closes the lid on the piano. He takes a blanket and curls up in the other arm chair leaning his head on the back and gazing at Remus. “Mm, parts of it. It’s... hard for me to write about, to do it justice.”
There’s another silence, during which Remus just looks at him patiently, like he knows Sirius is trying to figure out the words to say. Sirius loves this about him, that they don’t need to fill the silence with idle talk, that the conversation gets to have a chance to breathe.
“I know you know that Lily had a miscarriage. A little over a year ago. James called me after.” It had been a call Sirius never thought he would get, to hear that someone he loves like a sister has had a second trimester miscarriage. He still doesn’t understand why something so terrible always happens to the best people. “I have no real idea what they went through. I know that. But after that call, after listening to James’ words, his panic and his grief...”
He remembers the night so vividly. He wanted to drop everything right there and then and couldn’t, being so deep in the prepping for his tour. His heart almost breaks again just thinking about how out of it he was back then, how inadequate he felt in terms of his most important friendship. “I sat down, and I wrote this. I think this might be one of the heaviest things I’ve ever written, both the words and the melody.”
There are tears in Remus’s eyes; not falling, just there, glittering and shining like a hundred little diamonds on the surface. Even in his sadness he’s so beautiful it makes Sirius’ heart burst, and that’s a very inappropriate thought to have at a moment like this, maybe, but Sirius really can’t help it.
Remus swallows audibly. “I was there, you know. When it happened.” Sirius did not, in fact, know that. His heart drops to his stomach and he can feel his lips part in surprise. “That’s how Lily and I met. I was picking up fruit at the grocery, and suddenly there’s this woman next to me, gasping and so clearly in pain, and panicking and –“ He swallows again, eyes glassed over as he remembers the day, the moment. Sirius wants to reach out and hold his hand, tell him that everything is alright, but he doesn’t. It’s his turn to wait now.
“She just kept saying, ‘something is wrong, there’s something wrong with the baby’, and like, maybe she didn’t register anything else that was happening around her.” Remus looks down at his hands, and Sirius only now notices that he’s twisting the wrist of his jumper over and over again in his hand. He hopes he doesn’t ruin the ribbing by doing that. “Well, it was very scary. I took her to the hospital and stayed with her until James arrived.”
Sirius didn’t know. He had no idea. He was never told the details of that day, and he never asked out of respect. He was always more concerned about supporting Lily and James in the after, in any way he could from the distance. He’s very glad Lily didn’t have to go through all that on her own, that she had someone like Remus there to stand in for James. “And you’ve been around ever since.”
“Well, there are few things that bring people together like shared panic and grief.” Remus gives him a rueful smile, and Sirius gives a similar one back. “I tried to convince the hospital staff that I’m her brother, but I don’t think they bought it. But they let me in with her, anyway.”
Sirius does reach out, now. The arm chairs are pretty close together, so it doesn’t take much for them to link their hands together, but still Sirius hopes they were on the couch, instead. He dangles their hands over the arm rests, fingers braided together, both of them needing the comfort of the other and being equally willing to give it. (Sirius likes that, the thought of them being equals. Because they really are, in all the ways that matter.)
The pain is not fresh, and they’re not the ones who went through the whole ordeal, but they were both involved. Sirius was one of the first people James called that day; Remus was literally there. In this pain at least they can help each other, even if they do often feel a little useless in helping Lily or James in theirs.
It takes a while for the sadness to subside, but eventually it does. The silence lingers between them and Remus closes his eyes while Sirius just looks on.
“Are you taking a break from editing?” he asks, squeezing lightly on Remus’s fingers.
“Mmh, so to speak.” Remus keeps his eyes closed when he brings Sirius’ hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “I sent it off.”
Sirius freezes, then sits up suddenly. “Wait. You did? You sent of the final draft of your manuscript?” The only answer Remus gives is a sneaky smile and another kiss on his hand. “Oh my god. Remus! That’s incredible!”
Remus – Remus Lupin, soon to be bestselling author, Sirius is dating a real author – cracks one eye open and grins at him. Sirius is so proud of him. He knows he hasn’t been there from the beginning of Remus’s writing journey, but he has seen enough in the past two months to know how hard he has worked on this novel, long nights for days on end. He doesn’t know the details of the plot, but he knows it has stressed Remus out enough that there have been sleepless nights and dinners left uneaten on more than one occasion.
Sirius gets up from his arm chair and climbs onto Remus’s lap, bringing the blanket with him and cocooning them both in. (He takes his earlier words back, the arm chair has its perks, one of them being the closer quarters.) He gives Remus a very generous congratulatory kiss, or maybe three; he doesn’t keep track, and he highly doubts Remus does either.
“We should celebrate”, Sirius whispers against his lips. “Just you and me. And then we can throw a proper celebration after New Year’s if you want? But you and I should definitely do something special tonight.”
The fingers that slip under the hem of Sirius’ shirt are freezing, but all they do is make him burrow a little closer to Remus under the blanket. “Did you already have some ideas?”
Sirius lets a wicked grin spread on his face. “Oh, I have plenty.” Remus pinches the skin on his waist, not enough to hurt but enough to make Sirius yelp and squirm, then lean in for yet another kiss, this one slow and giddy and deliberate. “But we can start with the bottle of bubbly you must have stashed away for this exact moment.”
Remus does, in fact, have a bottle of bubbly – and a relatively nice one at that. It’s stashed at the back of the fridge, behind a carton of almond milk that he’s just recently started to buy for Sirius’ morning coffee. What he doesn’t have, however, are proper champagne glasses, or even flutes or wine glasses. Sirius doesn’t mind, he’s been rebelling against proper glassware since he was fourteen years old, anyway, but he still makes a mental note to buy Remus a small set of wine glasses, just for the sake of it.
But for today, there’s something very homey about drinking champagne from a rooster mug. Sirius insists on the matching ones, and Remus rolls his eyes with a very fond smile on his lips when they pop open the bottle. He reminds Sirius that sending off the manuscript doesn’t mean he is a published author, that his editor could still send it back with notes and things he needs to work on, but Sirius doesn’t really listen; he has a good feeling about this, his intuition says the book will be on its way to print without any more rounds of editing – and his intuition isn’t often wrong.
“What are we even celebrating at this point?” Remus asks when they stand with their silly mugs in the living room after Sirius insists on a toast. “I have planned on hosting a proper release party once we know the actual publication date, you know. This isn’t the big milestone you seem to think it is.”
“Of course it is!” Sirius says and steps closer, throwing his free arm over Remus’s shoulder and holding the mug up. “This is us celebrating you – wonderful, amazing, talented, incredible you – turning in the manuscript for your first novel. There’s no turning back, now. The cogs of the machine are turning, and you are going to have to start getting used to other people recognizing just how awesome you are, too.”
Remus laughs, and Sirius’ grin widens. “That might be one of the worst toasts anyone has ever given me.” Sirius is about to protest, because what part of him praising Remus could ever be bad? But then Remus clinks their mugs together gently and leans down to kiss him, the smiles still spreading on both of their lips. “I loved it. Thank you.”
It’s not the first time in Sirius’ life that he spends an afternoon drinking champagne out of a breakfast mug and listening to tunes on vinyl, but it is the first time he does all that with someone who he is now starting to think might very well be the love of his life. They end up putting on the David Bowie record Remus gave Sirius, and then another, until they have gone through a good chunk of Remus’s collection and revert back to the first Bowie again, and by the that time the bottle is more or less empty.
Sirius’ head is buzzing very pleasantly, and maybe he’s been dancing in front of the couch for a good while now, burning up excess energy. He could feel self conscious about that, but Remus sits there on the couch, a silly dopey grin on his face, every now and then snapping a picture of him and smiling at those pictures in a way that makes something pleasant burn in Sirius’ stomach. There’s no room for him to feel self conscious about doing what he feels like doing, and being cherished by his boyfriend by doing just that. He drops to the floor, lying on his back and looking at the pretty coloured wood panel ceiling. It doesn’t take long for Remus to join him, and then they just lie there, heads almost touching as Bowie sings Space Oddity.
The night is hazy and filled with the scent of one of Remus’s pumpkin spice candles. A few years ago, on a night like this, lying on the floor like this with someone close to his side and his heart, Sirius would have lit up a cigarette. Maybe a joint. And that would paint the rest of the night with blurry lines and disjointed details – the Sirius of five years ago would love that and dedicate an album to a night like that.
The Sirius of today, however, wants to remember everything, as he usually does when he’s with Remus.
“I love Bowie”, Remus mutters, and Sirius has figured as much, judging by the amount of Bowie CDs and vinyls there are in the cottage, but he smiles anyway.
“Mm, me too.” Sirius’ hand looks for Remus’s on the rug until they find each other. “I love the way his voice sounds in this part.”
Remus squeezes his hand. Sirius closes his eyes and listens. He wants to burn this moment into his soul so that he can look back to it in his lower moments to remind himself that there’s this kind beauty in the world. He sometimes forgets; he has a sadness that sometimes takes over, and in those moments it’s helpful to have a very nice memory like this ready to go.
The song changes again, and Remus’s thumb taps on the side of Sirius’ hand to the beat of the bass line. “I never listen to songs like this anymore. I love feeling the music in the floorboards.”
Sirius thinks about the two of them making it a thing in the future to listen to Bowie like this – and other things too, Queen, Stevie Nicks. He knows he saw a Talking Heads album somewhere. “I love thinking about how many people have heard these same notes and felt them so differently and just as deeply as we do.”
That’s also something Sirius thinks about quite often – usually his own songs, how people hear different stories in them than the ones Sirius himself wrote, and how they are all just as valid and important. It really is an amazing thought, and he likes sharing it with Remus. He thinks back to the first time he visited the cottage, how Remus talked about storytelling through songs. They never did have that date they discussed then.
When the next song starts, Sirius can feel Remus take in a sharp breath. “Oh, I love this song.”
“I love you.” Sirius hears it, and it takes him a second to realise he said it himself. He’s startled enough to open his eyes, but only because he’s realising in all his time thinking about it, this is the first time he’s said it out loud, and that’s more or less a crime. He turns his head towards Remus and repeats himself. “I love you, Remus.”
Remus is smiling at him. “I know.” It’s not arrogant. He’s merely stating the obvious – a lot like Sirius is, actually. “I love you, too.”
Sirius knows this; of course he does. But there’s a certain joy that comes from hearing it, anyway. No one else has ever told Sirius they love him – outside of friends and family, that is, and fans definitely don’t count. “I’ve never said it like that before”, he says, because he hasn’t. He loves the people in his life with his whole heart, and he makes a point of telling them as often as he thinks is appropriate, but it’s different, when it’s like this.
A small sadness flashes quickly in Remus’s eyes, there and gone again so fast that Sirius almost misses it, but after that Remus is all love and starlight again. “I’ve never meant it like this.” He grins. “Now that is a proper reason for us to celebrate. We just took a bit of a head start with the champagne.”
With a giggle, Sirius turns to look at the ceiling again. Remus squeezes his fingers, and Sirius squeezes his back, and then they just lie there, letting the music wash over them, both of them glowing with happiness in a way Sirius thinks he is going to be able to feel for the rest of his life.
“Hey, I have a question”, Sirius says when the last song on the record fades to the end. “Do you think that the universe threw all those obstacles at us to steer us into the right direction? Like, maybe it saw us struggling, reaching in the dark to find each other, and it built a wall in our path to force us to turn and look elsewhere. Again, and again and again, until finally we ended up here.”
Remus turns to look at him again, thoughtful but looking completely at ease. It’s nice to see, especially when his eyes look like they’re sparkling when he looks at Sirius like that. “I don’t know”, he says. “It’s a nice thought.”
“Like the red string of fate, almost”, Sirius says, thinking about some of the stories he heard when he was ten years old, having a sleepover with James and listening to Fleamont read them bedtime stories.
Remus smiles, then suddenly gets up and almost runs to the other side of the room to dig through the drawers of the old sideboard.
“What are you doing?”
Remus straightens his back and turns to Sirius, a gleam in his eyes and a small ball of red string in his hands. “I’m about to be very sappy and cliché, and I have a feeling you’re going to like it.”
**
Sirius walks in around lunch time, shuddering at the cold wind and very happy to be inside. “Honey, I’m home!” he calls out as he hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes, and sure enough, it doesn’t take many seconds for him to hear a delighted gasp from the dining room.
“Uncle Padfoot!” Harry runs through the hallway and full speed into Sirius’ legs, burying his face into his jeans and making him stumble. “I haven’t seen you in forever and ever and I missed you!”
There’s a strange feeling in the pit of Sirius’ stomach as he looks down at Harry. “Oh.” Harry looks up at him, his little face distraught and miserable. There’s no reason for a four year old to look that sad. Sirius reaches down to pick Harry up, balancing him on his hip. “It’s barely been two days, buddy, but sure. I missed you too.”
Harry doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t look that sad anymore, leaning his head against Sirius’ shoulder and kicking his feet leisurely to the tune he started humming as soon as he got picked up. Sirius huffs, then kisses Harry’s head and pats his back and makes his way to the dining room.
The holiday decorations are still up, as they should be, and there’s that distinct sense of liminal space that always lingers everywhere in the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Sirius has always been rather fond of that time, if he’s being honest; it’s the one time of year his high strung parents were slightly less high strung, didn’t mind Sirius and Regulus playing a board game in the library after lunch, served Christmas pudding for dessert for as long as there was any left. And now, the dining room smells like leftover curry and Lily still has the good china out, and James has left the music on low in the living room to provide some background noise.
Sirius loves this house. He really, really loves it.
“Hey!” James grins from where he’s seated at his regular spot at the table. “I didn’t know we would see you today!”
“Oh.” Sirius stops on his tracks and lets Harry down, watching as he then climbs onto his chair next to James and continues to happily mush every piece of food on his plate together. “Well, here I am?”
“No, don’t take this the wrong way, we’re thrilled you’re here! You just have been practically living at the cottage now.”
So he has. Sirius is not unaware that he has been spending a lot of time there in these past couple of weeks, in increasing quantity. But is that really so wrong? And besides, Sirius thinks, there are some extenuating factors here. “I mean. Mom and Dadi needed the guest room, so it was logical? What was I supposed to – “
“No, honey, I’m sorry.” Lily smiles at him across the table warmly, trying to make up for what James didn’t really even mean. “There’s no need for justifications or explanations. I’m very happy you’re here. Let me grab you a plate.”
Sirius shakes his head. The whole unnerving feeling is totally in his head. “No, sit, I’ll go get one myself.” He does this sometimes – reads into things. He over analyses things a lot, even when he’s with people who one hundred percent only mean what they say. He’s been better at it lately; Whitehaven has been good for him on many fronts.
Sirius rounds the table until he gets to Lily, then leans over her and hugs her from behind, leaning their heads together. He can feel her startle a bit, but she recovers quickly, placing a hand on Sirius’ wrist and letting out a small laugh. “What’s this, then? Everything alright?”
“Everything is okay.” Sirius breathes in the smell of her shampoo (honey and vanilla), closing his eyes for a bit. “I’m just very happy with how life is right now. And I was due for a Lily hug anyway.” He drops a kiss to her temple. “How are you feeling?”
“A lot like I was feeling with Harry at 34 weeks.” She pats Sirius’ wrist a few times, then stops and touches at the tied up string there, turning her head to see it better. “And what’s this, hm? An untalented crafty person’s version of a friendship bracelet?”
Sirius instantly blushes and straightens up, pulling the wrist and the string on it close to his chest. “It’s nothing.”
James perks up, eying the wrist that Sirius is now quickly trying to cover up with his sleeve. “What’s nothing?” Then James’ eyes get mischievous. “Did you do something sickly sweet? Can I mock you?”
“No.” Sirius makes a beeline for the kitchen to get his plate, making sure not to even look in James’ direction as he goes.
It might be silly, given that up until this point, he hasn’t really kept much of Remus a secret from Lily and James, but this is something he would rather keep to himself. For now, at least. No one in Sirius’ life has ever done a thing like this, nothing even remotely as silly romantic as reciting love poetry from memory while tying a piece of red string on his wrist. He thinks parts of the poem will be echoing in his heart forever, along with the look Remus gave him when Sirius took the string and tied one on Remus’s wrist, too. The moment was magical, perhaps the most magical one in Sirius’ life so far, and he’s not that keen on let James laugh all over it before it has a chance to settle.
When Sirius comes back to the dining room, James merely throws a sheepish smile his way as he sits down next to Lily, and after that the dinner is the usual calm and happy affair that Sirius likes to associate with the Potters. Harry monopolises the conversation by recounting how much he has already played with each one of the toys he got for Christmas, then admitting that he likes the stuffed animals the best and making Sirius promise he tells that to Uncle Moony, too, because it’s important information. Only one beverage is spilled all over the table, which is just as well because James admits that he was thinking of throwing the tablecloth in the wash today, anyway.
James gathers the tablecloth and even wipes off Harry’s face on it on his way out, and Sirius and Lily are left to finish the last piece of pecan pie between their laughter. Harry runs off, calling out a fast thank you over his shoulder after little prompting, and Sirius looks after him with a smile, listening to him go bother James in the laundry room.
“So. I have a question for you”, Lily says after a short silence. Sirius turns to look at her, snorting at her licking at her spoon to get the very last bits of filling. “Have you thought about moving in with Remus? Not kicking you out, just wondering.”
Pushing his empty plate away from him, Sirius sighs. He knows that the baby will be born in a month, and while she will sleep in Lily and James’ room for a while, she will need her own room eventually, and Sirius is the last person who would want to stand in the way of that. It’s been nice, too, to have safe space here; it was his lifeline, when he left London in August with a horribly packed duffel and a panic in his throat. And Sirius knows in his gut that no matter what happens, he will always be welcome here, and James will make space for him even after seventeen kids and twenty dogs. He’s eternally grateful for that.
There is, however, another place in this town where Sirius has learned he feels just as safe, just as welcome, just as loved. He feels a little like he’s being pulled into two places at once, if he’s being honest, and while that’s not the greatest feeling, he does like to know he has multiple places to be. Places where he is wanted, even. He thinks back to Remus’s parting kiss just one hour ago, the little breathy “see you later”, and he can feel his toes curl in his socks.
“Well. We haven’t discussed it?” Sirius says, and for some reason it comes out like a question even when it clearly isn’t one. “But I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”
And he has, quite a bit actually. He’s thought about his things at the cottage, mingling with Remus’s – and not just his mug and house coat, but his clothes, and his books, a few picture frames. He’s thought about coming home to Remus, reading together on weekend mornings, feeding the chickens together and cooking together and being together. He’s thought about already physically being there for Remus when he’s having one of his flare ups, of them learning together to ask for help.
(Sirius has thought about waking up next to Remus every day, getting to fall asleep in the same bed. Quiet mornings, busy mornings. Mornings where neither of them wants to get up, mornings where they’re already late, mornings where they can’t get enough of each other and the rest of the world will just have to wait. Sirius likes mornings. He likes mornings with Remus even more.)
“Hmm.” Lily sips on her water, and when she lowers her glass, there’s a sly smile on her lips. “I’m just saying, if you plan on sticking in town for a while, there are worse lodgings.” She winks at Sirius in a way that is really quite vulgar. “I hear the complementaries are very nice for favourite customers.”
Sirius’ face feels warm, but he grins anyway. “Oh, they’re pretty great, believe you me.”
“Do I get any details?”
For some reason, Sirius has a feeling that she already knows more than he has told her. He doesn’t mind; it’s actually very nice, imagining Remus and Lily in a corner, gushing about one thing or another. “Not until that baby is safely out of you and you can get a stiff drink in you”, he says, reaching for his own water and turning in his chair to better face Lily. “How’s that going, by the way? You really feeling alright?”
Lily’s smile turns softer, and her hand comes to rest on her swollen belly. To Sirius, it almost seems like he woke up one morning and she was showing, and then her stomach has almost doubled in size week by week. “I really am okay. Thank you for asking, though.” She looks down at where her hand rests, and Sirius wonders if she is thinking about what Sirius is thinking – that it’s very good, and a relief, to have this one go well. “But I am counting the days at this point, for her to arrive. Between James and Harry, and you and Remus, I’m feeling a little outnumbered.”
“Well, we can’t have that”, Sirius laughs, and there’s a nice – not new – sort of warmth that comes from the inclusion of both him and Remus in one single breath. “Now, come on. I need to raid your nail polish box again, and if you ask very nicely, I’ll even paint your toe nails.”
**
Peter Pettigrew is old money, not extremely rich but there’s enough generational wealth to grant him a little bit of status and a house by the cliffs. He’s the first in his family to dip his toes into politics, apparently much to his grandparents’ charging, and he does a lot of charity work for children. That’s about all the facts that Sirius has been able to gather about the guy in all the months he has spent in Whitehaven, and he feels very guilty for not knowing more – especially since he’s been invited to his very prestigious sounding New Year’s Eve party.
“It’s just a dinner and drinks”, Remus laughs as Sirius blurts out all this. “Barely a dinner, even, more of a late night snack. And Peter always uses this really good catering company, and the foods are themed, so I bet it’s very fun.”
“Ugh, you’re so not helping.” Sirius takes out another shirt. How is he once again trying to pick an outfit to a party less than an hour before they need to get going? He used to be better at this. “Can I wear the same outfit I wore to the Christmas party, or is that too obvious? I mean, it’s not like I have that many party clothes on me, but I don’t feel like making a last minute trip to the Potters.”
Remus merely hums and turns a page on his book. “I thought most of your clothes were here already”, he says. Sirius spends exactly five seconds trying to detect if there’s resentment in his voice, but can’t find any. “And I think it’s too cold for the leather jacket. I don’t want you getting sick.”
“But we’re not walking?”
“No, but Peter has a nice back patio, and I want to watch fireworks with you from there.” Sirius watches as Remus sets the book aside and sits up. “I do like the turtleneck on you, though.”
Sirius grins. “I know you do.”
“Oh, hush.” The blush on Remus’s cheeks is quite the treat. Sirius very much likes knowing he’s the source of such beauty. “Um. I do have a cardigan you could borrow? For under your jacket? Unless you think that’s a little too grandpa for you.”
As Remus gets up from the chair and starts going through his own clothes, Sirius perks up and follows him with his eyes. “A cardigan? An authentic Remus Lupin cardigan?”
Remus throws him a look over his shoulder. “I can still take the offer back.”
“Oh no, please don’t take it back! I’d love to borrow a cardigan!” Sirius sits there, delighted, as Remus’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. “You have doubles, right? Can we match?”
“I don’t take well to teasing, you know.”
Sirius gets up from the floor. “No, baby, I’m not teasing you”, he says, although the grin on his face could possibly suggest otherwise. He comes up behind Remus and slips his arms around him, kissing the nape of his neck. “I really would love to borrow a cardigan. And if I can match with you, then believe it or not, that’s a definite bonus for me.” He leans his head on Remus’s back, smiling and listening to his breathing. “Mm, we can be the ridiculous couple who is always matching at events. I’ve always wanted to be one of those couples.”
The way Remus’s body feels against Sirius when he laughs is one of Sirius’ favourite things in the entire world. “You ridiculous man. Well, who am I to stand between you and your lifelong dream. Let’s find you a cardigan.”
It doesn’t take them long to find two matching cardigans – not identical, but similar enough that it’s undeniable. The one Sirius puts on is soft and warm but thin enough to fit well under the leather jacket, and he must say, Remus looks incredible in burgundy. (Remus look incredible in anything, but that’s hardly the point.) This revelation leads into a very brief make out session against the wall in the hallway before James sends them a message that they’re on their way.
Turns out, James knows them a little too well, knowing they would get distracted easily, and they end up having to wait outside for almost ten minutes. The snow falls in big wet chunks around them, and Sirius is very glad they took Lily up on her offer to drive them to and from the party tonight. He does, however, think that he needs to pay James back a bit, and he starts planning his revenge while hiding his face in his scarf (well, Remus’s scarf, and it smells incredible, thank you very much) and leaning against Remus’s side for warmth.
“James is a little shit”, he mumbles at around seven minutes of wait time, but Remus just laughs. “I bet this is payback for all the times I made fun of him after he started dating Lily. My god, those two were insufferable, always late for everything and pretending like I didn’t know exactly what took them so long.”
“I can imagine.” Remus has one arm around Sirius, the other hand holding the bottle of wine they have purchased as a gift for Peter. (Sirius feels giddy about the fact that their names are written together in the card.) “Well, maybe we should work on the payback being worth it.”
“What, try to be late a little more often? My, whatever would we do with all that time.”
They’re still giggling when Lily finally pulls up, and then the entire ten minute ride is spent trying to get James to put Bowie on instead of Christmas music. Sirius is of the mind that if the ride is long enough to put on music at all, then it’s long enough to switch it to Bowie, and he tries to get Remus to back him up on that, but all he gets is a long stare and half a smile. (And twinkling eyes. He shouldn’t forget the twinkling eyes.)
Sirius isn’t sure what he expected from Peter’s house, but it’s not this. The building is mid-century modern, all earth tones and floor to ceiling windows, and all the furniture looks brand new with a very period-accurate flare. He doesn’t know much about architecture – or interior design, for that matter – but he knows it’s a nice house, and that the colours complement each other, and that it looks very cool, standing there on a cliffside, facing the waves and the sea. And it’s packed full of people in surprisingly casual clothing, all smiling and chatting and snacking on cheese and olives.
“Okay, I admit, this does seems like fun”, Sirius mutters to Remus when they’re hanging up their coats. He can hear jazz music in the background, and he’s not big on jazz, but somehow it all fits here. “Remind me of this the next time I dare to doubt you.”
Remus laughs. “Will do.” He smooths down the front of his button down and cardigan, then turns to Sirius and makes him swoon by doing the same for him. “Alright, let’s go find Peter, and then some drinks.”
“Chances are that we find him by the bar”, James quips, making Lily and Remus chuckle. Then he turns to Sirius and explains, “Peter likes to mix the drinks at his parties. Says that he catches the most interesting conversations there.”
“Mmh, and his cocktails aren’t half bad, either”, Lily says, leading them further into the house. “And he did promise me virgin mojitos, so you know where you’ll be finding me all night.”
And Lily is right, Peter does make a mean cocktail; Sirius isn’t sure he’s ever had a Manhattan quite like that before. Peter says it’s a “rat’s tail twist”, whatever that means, but whatever it is it’s very good, and Sirius downs three of them in the next few hours, hanging by the bar (truly, Peter has an actual bar in his living room, something made out of reddish wood and a marble slab; he really does like to entertain) with Remus by his side, listening to James and Peter tell one hilarious story after another. He even chimes in a few times, himself, sharing some of the more elaborate pranks he polled with James back in school.
It’s a very good night; Sirius wasn’t really thinking it wouldn’t be, but it’s nice to notice, nevertheless. Just like Remus promised, the food is excellent: there is bite sized everything, a cheese platter, a vegan cheese platter, and a pizza spread, and it all seems to somehow have a Mediterranean theme. Peter has impeccable taste in drinks, in food, in music and in guests, and he is very skilled in telling engaging stories, which Sirius is always a sucker for. It’s one of the more fun house parties Sirius has been to in quite some time, maybe in years, if he doesn’t count the dinner parties with Lily and James that he’s joined this past few months.
“Oh, just wait for May”, Frank Longbottom tells him when they’re all grabbing their coats ten minutes before midnight to move to the back patio for the count down. “Petey throws an annual murder mystery night. Everyone gets assigned a role beforehand, there are costumes and everything. It’s the highlight of spring!”
Peter grins when he hears this, promptly makes sure to invite Sirius (“But not to worry, I will be sending proper invitation packages in a few months!”), then proceeds to remind Frank for what seems to be the umpteenth time that he would rather not be referred to as Petey.
The patio is lit up with an almost absurd amount of string lights, all a warm white tone and carefully placed – Sirius has learned by this point of the night to expect nothing less from Peter Pettigrew. There are heaters in all the corners, and while they’re not enough to really keep the freezing December air away, they’re enough to have no one give up on the count down before it even starts. Less than a minute to midnight, everyone is outside, the air is buzzing with a jolly kind of excitement, and no one feels as tired as they will be in thirty minutes when that very excitement wears off.
The count down starts from ten. Sirius hasn’t been this excited about a New Year’s count down in forever, but he knows his current excitement is mostly due to the atmosphere around him. Everyone is either coupled up or huddled together in small groups, and there’s such joy in the air that Sirius can’t keep the smile off his face when he joins in shouting the numbers with everyone else.
When they get to one, Remus is already kissing him.
Sirius has never had anyone to kiss on New Year’s Eve. He’s surprised by how magical it feels. It’s only been a few hours since the last time he’s kissed Remus, and since then his lips have started to taste like sparkling wine, which might be the only true difference in the end. But there’s also the party atmosphere, the all-around giddiness of everyone on the patio, the fireworks all around them that paint bright lights on the walls and on their faces.
They pull apart a good few minutes into the new year, grins on their faces and butterflies in their stomachs. “Happy New Year, Remus”, Sirius whispers, thinking that he would very much like to be here one year from now, with the same crowd, the same guy.
Remus kisses him again, sealing in the promise that wasn’t voiced but could probably be read in his eyes. “The happiest yet.”
Notes:
"The earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The earth was spinning with its music
carrying us on board;
it didn’t stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that’s miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium’s score."The earth turned to bring us closer, by Eugenio Montejo
Chapter 14: January, part I
Summary:
Travel plans are hatched between domestic moments, and some of them Sirius is even aboard with.
Notes:
i have no idea how long i can keep up with this chapter a week posting schedule because let me tell you, it's a little draining. i will say that there is currently maybe three paragraphs of text on the next chapter, so we'll see if i'll have it ready any time next week - but then again, i only had a few sentences of this one ready a week ago, so who knows.
TW: the same car accident as before is discussed, this time very vaguely. short ponderings on how trauma and anxiety manifest. be kind to yourself.
Chapter Text
“You – you really want me to come with you?"
Sirius looks at Remus over the dinner table, his fork still suspended in the air halfway to his mouth. Remus gives him a smile that’s partly sheepish, partly nervous, and one hundred per cent caring. “I do. I mean, I met your parents over Christmas, and so I think it’s only fair you have a chance to meet mine.” Remus takes a sip of his drink and Sirius lives for the blush on his cheeks when he adds, “And, um, I would just really like you to come and meet them.”
Obviously, Sirius has known about the concrete plans to visit Hope and Lyall Lupin since Remus called his mother three days ago, but he has not before this seriously considered the idea of going with him. Of course he wants to meet them, but he hasn’t wanted to push, and he has been of the mind that the idea should come from Remus, not him.
Sirius has never met anyone’s parents before. The only person whose parents he would ever even have been in the position to meet would be Gideon, but that whole thing crashed and burned before that could even be a discussion. He’s never had the chance to get nervous about not being good enough, about not living up to the expectations people could have for someone dating their son. He does now, thought, and the pressure comes over him kind of suddenly, settling onto a familiar spot on his chest as he looks at Remus.
Remus, who looks so hopeful and sweet. Who doesn’t try to act like it’s not a big deal, because it is, but isn’t trying to put extra pressure on Sirius based on his own hopes and expectations. He’s the most amazing human being Sirius knows; how could Sirius possibly deliberately disappoint him, when doing what he’s asked it something so very easy?
(Sirius would do anything for Remus. He really would. Some things might take a little persuasion, but he would do them anyway. It’s a little scary.)
Sirius takes a bite of his food, chews slowly and maybe a little longer than necessary, then clears his throat. “And you’re sure they won’t mind me tagging along?”
Instead of a simple “no, of course not, why would they” that anyone could give in this situation, Sirius really appreciates the fact that Remus thinks his answer through. He always does that; he never says anything that he doesn’t mean, and what he says has value. And it makes Sirius feel like what he himself says, what he asks, has value. It’s a very nice feeling to have, and Sirius isn’t sure that he’s felt quite like this too often in his life.
Remus, too, takes his time chewing his food before taking a deep breath and looking straight through Sirius’ eyes into his soul. “Well, I haven’t exactly told them a lot, because... well. Partly because I didn’t know if you wanted me to, and partly because we’re just not close the way you and the Potters are, I guess.” It’s fair, Sirius supposes – not many families are quite as tight-knit as the Potters are. “But I do talk to my Mam a lot, and she’s not stupid, so she knows something’s up, so I think – I think she’s been like, hinting that she would like me to bring you with me. Or, well, not you specifically, but whoever it is who’s making me happy like this. And that’s you.”
Sirius smiles. “Thank you for that last bit.” Remus smiles back, warm and wonderful. “I would love to go to Rhyl to meet your parents, Remus. Really.”
There’s a grin that could possibly blind a man, and then Remus is rounding the table to Sirius’ side, taking his face in his hands, kissing him with such joy that you’d think Sirius has just promised him the sun and the moon. A little yelp leaves Sirius’ lips, but he tries to match Remus in intensity despite his own smile. And when the kiss ends, Remus looks at him, really looks at him, and Sirius didn’t think this was such a big deal to the both of them.
“Thank you, love”, Remus says, so earnestly it almost makes Sirius’ eyes water. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”
Sirius places a hand on Remus’s wrist and leans into the touch. “It’s not a lot. Not like that. It would have happened eventually.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” Sirius grins and turns his head to kiss the palm of Remus’s hand. “I wouldn’t just go through life not meeting my partner’s parents, Remus. I was raised in polite society, you know; I may not have taken much of what they teach at heart, but I do believe in good manners.”
“Okay, I think that’s enough cheek from you for now”, Remus rolls his eyes, but does lean down to kiss Sirius again, so he definitely isn’t as frustrated as he lets on.
(Sirius feels at peace. He has a sneaking suspicion that he will start feeling properly nervous later, once his mind catches up with the fact that he will be meeting Remus’s parents in a matter of days and – and what if they don’t like him? Or what if they’re holding a torch for someone from Remus’s past? Will they think Sirius’ celebrity status is something they don’t want anything to do with? Sirius will panic about all of that later. He’s happy now. Content.)
Humming into the kiss, Sirius leans back just enough to speak. “You want to call your mom now, don’t you?”
Remus has that aura about him – he’s just about ready to burst with it. Sirius knows it’s important to Remus that he joins him on this trip, but it seems like it’s even more important that he originally thought. And Remus can claim that he’s not close with his parents all he wants, but he talks about them constantly and calls his mom at least once a week, and it’s been almost a year since they last saw each other, so of course he’s excited.
Sirius likes that he’s part of that excitement, too.
Remus only hesitates for a small beat before giving a self-deprecating little laugh that’s very cute but has no place coming from Remus Lupin’s mouth. “I kind of do, yeah.”
“I figured.” Sirius smiles at him and looks at the lunch table; their plates are practically empty. “You do that. I’ll clean up.” Remus gives him one more kiss, then straightens his back and walks across to the other side of the room where he left his phone. Sirius watches him with a smile. “Hey”, he says when he gets up, and Remus turns to look at him. “I love you.”
He can’t stop saying it. He loves saying it. He says it all the time to the point where it’s absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn’t care because Remus always says it back. Never hesitates, never wavers. And he says it on his own, too, and Sirius is delighted every single time. He’s never before had someone who tells him he loves him when he’s brushing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror, or when he’s about to be attacked by chickens, or when he’s laughing on the ground because he slipped on the street and fell on his arse.
Or when he’s starting to clear out the dishes from their leftover lunch and he hasn’t washed his hair in three days. “I love you”, Remus grins, then dials his mother’s number.
Sirius brings the dishes to the sink and listens to the phone call, the smile now a permanent fixture on his lips. Remus is a pacer; he paces when he talks on the phone. Sirius has learned this just recently, and it’s a little bit hilarious. He’s surprised there isn’t a path formed around the living room couch and in front of the fireplace.
“Hi, Mam. Yes. ...Right, yes, I know we just talked yesterday. Um. A couple of things, though? Before I drive down next week? ...No, I’m not cancelling.” The exasperated sound of Remus’s voice makes Sirius snort and look over, and Remus answers by rolling his eyes at him. “Um. Well. I was thinking I could bring someone with me? No, Mam, not a friend. My boyfriend. ...Sirius. ...No, you haven’t met him yet.” There’s a small pause, and then Remus lets out a small sigh and pulls the phone slightly away from his ear. “She’s calling for Dad, this might take the whole afternoon.”
Remus looks sheepish, but all Sirius can do is smile his dopey smile and stare at Remus across the room, until the call is eventually put on speaker and Sirius is pulled into a conversation about the new vegetarian menu of a diner he has never been to.
**
@gimmesunshine I know we mostly talk about Sirius here but have you guys been keeping up with what’s going on with his brother lately? #WhatAboutSiriusBlack #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 7 hours ago
@hammerhead_trailer88 @gimmesunshine i didnt kno he has a brother what 7 hours ago
@audrey_black98 @gimmesunshine do you mean with the resignment or the fact that no one has really seen him since he moved out of his kensington flat? #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 7 hours ago
@JasonCGideon5 @audrey_black98 @gimmesunshine Wait, NO ONE has seen Regulus Black in two weeks?? Are we sure these two disappearances are not related? #WhatAboutSiriusBlack #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 6 hours ago
@bellpeppersandcream @JasonCGideon5 I don’t know if the instances are related, but there’s something funky about the way @RegulusBlack resigned and we still have no explanation from either him or @BlackIndustries and then he moves out of one of Orion Black’s flats. I have a feeling there’s something brewing. 6 hours ago
@JasonCGideon5 @bellpeppersandcream Doesn’t sound good for @BlackIndustries if I’m being honest. #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 6 hours ago
@v-neck_sirius111 it has been five months without a word from the love of my life @SiriusBlack please my children are starving and my crops are dying where are youuuuuuu #WhatAboutSiriusBlack #babycomeback 8 hours ago
@TMZ Regulus Black Seen Walking Around Kensington After Being MIA For Two Weeks | Click to read more 3 hours ago
@JasonCGideon5 @TMZ @audrey_black98 Do we know who the mystery men are? #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 3 hours ago
@audrey_black98 @JasonCGideon5 looks like @BartyCrouchJr and @E.Rosier which would make sense because they went to school together i think #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 3 hours ago
@iputthehoeinrosier @TMZ DO YOU PEOPLE SEE THAT the boys are back together my life is complete i'm cryingg #evanrosier #regulusblack #bartycrouch #emosandwich #ot3 2 hours ago
**
“...And you really need to call Benjy back, he keeps blowing up my phone and doesn’t seem satisfied with just me knowing where you are. I keep telling him that you’re okay but please, for the love of anything holy, call Benjy.”
Sirius frowns at the laundry basket. “Benjy?” he asks, balancing the phone between his ear ad his shoulder. “My Benjy?”
Marlene snorts on the other end of the line. “How many Benjys do you know? Also, that’s a rather strange way to refer to your producer”, she points out, and she has a fair point there. Sirius keeps folding the t-shirts. “Yes, your Benjy. I don’t know if he’s in love with you or what gives, but he keeps calling me like a sad puppy and I can’t have that.”
“Benjy is definitely not in love with me”, Sirius laughs. Remus has two identical Beatles shirts. Does he need them both or could Sirius possibly steal one? “Last I knew he’s happily married and talking about adopting.”
“Right, you might want to remind him of that when you call him.” Sirius can hear her tapping on her computer as she talks. Sometimes he wonders if she ever sleeps, or takes a break. He hums and sets the pile of t-shirts to the side, moving on to sweatshirts. “So, since I doubt you’re driving down to London any time soon, I think it’s best I come over there to discuss some of these things that you put in your email”, Marlene says, and Sirius stops moving. “It’s a win-win-win situation, if you think about it. I get a bit of a break from the city, you get your own car back, and we get some actual business done. Plus, I get to see you, and I have missed your ugly face so dreadfully. So, a win-win-win-win situation.”
Sirius takes his phone back in his hand. Marlene always talks a mile a minute when she’s like this, he’s used to it at this point, but it still takes him a moment to register. Did she really say... “Wait, you – you're coming here? Here-here? In Whitehaven?”
“Yes, first week of February. Keep up, Goldilocks. Apparently, there are three B&Bs in town, I booked a room from the one on the main road. Do you know a Molly Weasley?”
“Um. No, no I don’t –”
“I just assumed that everyone knew everyone in a town that small.” Sirius gets up from the floor, not really knowing what to do with himself. What is going on? “Well, she’s the one with the B&B, the pictures look good enough, so I think I’ll manage for five days. Make sure you clear your very busy schedule for me, alright? I’ll text you the details. You’re still staying with James, right?”
“Yes, technically –”
There’s suddenly something very ominous in Marlene’s voice as she says, “I think we should talk there, less prying ears.” Sirius still hasn’t even wrapped his head around the rest of what she said, and then she’s off again. “Anyway, I’m getting another call, love you, miss you, stay safe.”
“Um. Yeah. Bye, Marls.” The call drops before Sirius can say anything else, and he’s not sure she heard him, anyway. “Love you, too?”
For a moment, Sirius just stands there. He’s in a bit of a shock, he thinks, standing with his phone in one hand and the sleeve of a grey sweatshirt in the other. Once the whole thing finally gets through to him, Sirius can feel a hesitant smile climb on his lips.
Back in London, Sirius thinks that Marlene might have been his best friend. His only real friend, at times, or at least that’s what it felt like. (Maybe Benjy is a real friend, too. Perhaps Sirius really should give him a call.) They used to get together every few weeks outside of work, either for brunch or dinner, and both usually stretched out for hours afterwards with cocktails and gossip. They would have nights dedicated to everything but shop talk, and she has a drawer full of her own things in the guest bedroom in Sirius’ flat. Sirius has a spare key to Marlene’s townhouse and would use it regularly when the silence in his own place became too much.
It hits him now that he misses Marlene. He misses her sarcasm, her terrible taste in wine, her snoring through the wall. He misses being around her. And now she’s coming here, to Whitehaven, and that’s such a complete surprise that Sirius doesn’t quite know how to be. He keeps twitching his face around a smile and a frown, back and forth until he settles into a frown. Then he just stands there staring into nothingness until he hears Remus come home and wanders to the hallway.
“Hi”, Remus smiles as he takes off his warm winter coat and hangs it up. He has two bags of groceries in his arms, and he gives Sirius a quick kiss as he passes one of them along. “I think it might actually snow this weekend.”
“Oh. Nice.” Sirius follows Remus into the kitchen, where they start unpacking the groceries into cabinets. If Sirius were any more aware of his surroundings, he would marvel at the domesticity of it all. “Marlene called.”
Remus hums. “That’s good.” He hands Sirius a loaf of bread to put in the pantry. “How is she?”
“Well, judging by her the count of words per minute, I’d say she’s stressed, which means she’s alright because she thrives under stress.” There are two cans of beans in the bag. Sirius doesn’t think Remus actually likes beans. How long has Remus been buying things he doesn’t like but Sirius does without Sirius even noticing? “She says she’s coming here?”
“Here?” Remus asks, almost as bewildered as Sirius.
“Whitehaven. First week of February; she booked a room on main.” Sirius thinks he might sound a little crazy; he sounds a little mad to his own ears, at least. “Who’s Molly Weasley?”
Remus pauses before answering. “Molly? She runs a B&B across the street from Mary’s pub.” Sirius stops emptying the bag and looks at Remus – or, right over Remus’s left shoulder, eyes unfocused. “Her husband Arthur has a car repair shop near the church, I don’t know him that well, but he always seems kind of, I don’t know, jolly. They have a lot of kids, I think one of the younger ones is around Harry’s age.” Remus moves his head, trying to catch Sirius’ stare. He looks a little worried. “Hey, are you alright?”
Sirius lets out a slow sigh and rubs his face with both of his hands. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” He leans his lower back against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms, the frown back on his face. “Marlene is coming here.”
“Yes, you said.” Remus gives him a few strange looks while putting away the rest of the groceries, then closes the fridge door and leans against it, mirroring Sirius’ stance. “I’m not sure I understand. You like Marlene, right?”
That’s an easy enough question, and Sirius nods three times in quick succession. “I like Marlene. I love Marlene, she’s one of my best friends.”
Remus gives a nod of his own – just one, slow, processing. He looks like a teacher when he does that. A professor. He looks at Sirius, really looks at him, searches his face for something, but Sirius isn’t sure he finds it, because there’s now a frown on his face, too. “Then what’s bothering you?”
Sirius sighs again, frustrated with himself. “I’m not sure.” He bites the inside of his cheek, then just decides to say whatever words come out, trusting at least some of it to make sense. “It’s just... trying to fold my mind around the fact that my two worlds will be colliding. I mean, James and Lily have met Marlene a few times in London, sure, and they get along great, I think. But I have kept Whitehaven very separate from everyone there. This is my safe place, I want to keep it protected. I don’t – I’m not sure how I feel about Marlene showing up.”
It’s a complicated feeling, for sure, and Sirius doesn’t quite know how to word it, but he looks at Remus with pleading eyes, begging for him to understand. “I miss her, but a part of me wishes to keep this place mine. Do you know what I mean?”
Remus nods again in that slow, processing way of his. Sirius can see him now, standing in front of a classroom, a little chalk on his chin and all dressed in tweed. What a wonderful image. “Two things can be true.”
“Right.”
There’s a silence – partly because Sirius doesn’t know what else to say anymore, and partly because he’s a little bit lost in Remus’s eyes. They’re very pretty. They can almost make Sirius forget all about what is making him anxious and restless; almost, but not quite. After a long moment, Remus moves from in front of the fridge to right beside Sirius, close enough so that their shoulders touch but far enough away to give Sirius space if he so desires. Sirius loves him a lot.
“You could tell her not to come, could you not?” Remus says then, and Sirius leans his head on his shoulder. Remus immediately wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer. “Meet her somewhere else, kind of like a neutral ground?”
Sirius sniffs. He doesn’t like that idea, either, but he loves that Remus is trying to solve the problem for him. “I guess. But no.” He closes his eyes. The wool of Remus’s jumper is slightly scratchy against his chin, a little like a morning stubble. It’s kind of nice, actually. “I’m, I don’t know, excited? Nervous. But kind of can’t wait? Does that make any sense?”
“Sure it does.” Remus’s hand squeezes his shoulder a bit, then there’s a kiss dropped on his head. Afterwards Remus leans their heads together, and Sirius’ lips twitch around a little smile. “If it helps any, I’m actually a little excited to meet Marlene, myself.”
Sirius wraps his arms around Remus and looks up at him, the smile on his lips growing slightly. “You are?” His voice is a little smaller than he’d like, naive and hopeful, and with anyone else he would feel stupid.
“Of course. I mean, nervous too, of course, but mostly excited.” Remus’s hand has found its way to Sirius’s hair again. It’s getting even longer, and curly at the edges. Sirius leans into Remus’s touch and thinks that if he were a cat he might start purring. “You talk about her a lot”, Remus says then, voice low and gentle.
Tilting his chin up Sirius kisses Remus and sighs contently. “I haven’t realised.” The kiss lasts for ten blissful seconds before Sirius leans back with a realisation, eyes blown wide and heart in his throat. “Oh my God. Oh no.”
“What?”
Sirius presses the palms of his hands against his eyes hard enough to see stars. “I didn’t tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
“About you!” Sirius feels awful. He’s supposed to stop hiding; there’s no good reason why he wouldn’t tell Marlene about Remus, why he wouldn’t share his happiness with a close friend like her. He leans forward and puts his forehead on Remus’s sternum. “She was talking a mile a minute and I could barely even get a word in, and then the call ended very abruptly, and I swear I am not keeping this from her on purpose, please believe me.”
For some reason all Remus does is laugh. It’s not mean, though, but just startling enough to jump Sirius out of his headspace a little. “I believe you, love. Now, breathe.” His hand goes up and down Sirius’ back in a soothing manner until Sirius takes a deep breath and dares to look up at him again. “I love that you worry about that, but you don’t need to. I’m not expecting you to spout out your relationship status to everyone you know the very first chance you get. You’ll tell her when it feels appropriate.”
Sirius nods, then pauses, and nods again. Remus is being very kind and generous, and maybe he overreacted a bit at first, but Remus does have a point there. And really, Marlene probably wouldn’t have heard Sirius if he tried to tell her, anyway. When Sirius does tell someone new about Remus, he wants to take his time with it; he wants to make sure he is heard and understood, make sure the importance of this relationship isn’t overlooked. He wants to make it abundantly clear how happy he is, and who is making him this happy. It might be silly, really, to think it over so much beforehand, but Sirius has never before been in a situation like this – and, he hopes, will not be again, and will instead stay happy and in love with Remus.
Sirius knows he overthinks things a lot; this is not a new thing. He’s learning to trust that Remus won’t mock him for it, and he’s learning to not worry about things like this so much. It’s a long process, he knows that too, but he takes it as progress that Remus has been able to talk him off the ledge so quickly this time.
“Yeah”, Sirius says, sighs once more, then melts back into the hug. Remus’s arms tighten around him at once. “I’ll tell her once she comes here. I think I want her to hear it in person.”
“That sounds nice.” They stand there for a moment, and Sirius listens to Remus’s steady heartbeat against his ear, soothing the rest of his nerves and anxiety. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like cooking today.”
Sirius smiles slightly and nuzzles against Remus’s chest before looking up at him. “Mmh. Me, either.” He thinks for a moment, then puts on his most innocent smile and tilts his head curiously. “Should we get take out, go out to eat, or just show up at the house and hope James and Lily made enough for two more?”
They both know for a fact that James takes after his father and always cooks enough food to feed a small army; Sirius has never known a time when there hasn’t been enough food for extra guests at the Potter household. It’s almost like magic, the way the pots and pans and dishes seem to always hold enough food for everyone to have seconds and thirds, and it’s a thing that Sirius has always closely associated with home.
Remus snorts and raises his brows at him. “Or, you know, we could just call him and ask.”
“Yes, but what’s the fun in that?” Sirius smirks, then gets on the tips of his toes to get close enough for a good long kiss. Remus laughs into it, and when they pull apart, Sirius takes his hands and starts leading him away from the kitchen and into the living room space. “Come on, we can put on an episode of Gilmore Girls before we go. And then we can pretend to watch it while we make out on the couch. You in?”
(What they both also know for a fact is that no matter what he says, Remus is too polite to just show up unannounced, no matter how close he is to James and Lily, and he will be texting James as soon as Sirius turns his back. Remus knows that Sirius knows, and Sirius will happily pretend like it doesn’t happen. It’s a fun arrangement, and Sirius is a little curious about how far they can stretch it.)
Remus matches Sirius’ smirk with one of his own and seems very happy to be led anywhere by him. They squeeze each other's hands and grin, and this, Sirius thinks, this is the kind of life he wants to have.
“Lead the way”, Remus says, and it feels a little backwards, given that Remus is the one who is so very good at leading, but Sirius pulls him along anyway.
**
Packing for a three day trip feels strange to Sirius – strange and slightly scary. He hasn’t left Whitehaven in moths, and now he’s going on what is essentially a road trip down the coast to Rhyl, where Remus is from, where he is possibly expected to show up in public. He knows he’s there to meet Remus’s parents, and Remus is there to spend time with them, and those things don’t necessarily mean there’s any need to step outside of their family home. But Sirius also doesn’t want to hinder any kind of plans; maybe Hope and Lyall are people who like to go out to eat. Maybe they have planned to take Remus to an outing, or a get together, or some other event in town.
And here’s the thing: reasonably, Sirius knows all this is highly unlikely. He knows Remus and his routines, and he highly doubts his parents are that different from him. He knows Remus will always prefer staying in from going out. He knows Remus takes after his father in his tendency to forget himself in a book for hours and hours. He knows Remus has been talking about his mother’s cooking for days now, that she has promised to cook all of his favourites for their visit and has even asked for Sirius’ preferences. He knows all this. He knows all this and he’s not stupid, but here he goes, overthinking everything again.
On top of all this, Remus has told Sirius the plan maybe five times now. They will drive down tomorrow, arrive late afternoon and have an early dinner because Lyall teaches a night class at the local university on Fridays. The only thing Hope has requested for Saturday is a walk to the cemetery to bring fresh flowers to her parents’ and brother’s graves, and Remus says he suspects a proper cookout after that as she tends to send him off with a full cooler bag. And they will be leaving sometime after lunch on Sunday for their four hour drive back, so there really isn’t that much time to throw a block party and expose Sirius to the world at large.
And yet – and yet. Sirius is scared. He hates that he’s scared, and he hates that the reason he’s so scared is his career and he still, after all the backlash, loves his career. He knows he will have to rejoin the world eventually, and maybe a trip to Rhyl is just what he needs, but he’s still panicking a little bit. He doubts it’ll go away that easily. Maybe he’ll just have to get through this first part, and maybe it’ll get easier each time.
“So, um. Unexpected predicament”, Remus starts when they’re packing for the trip the day before. Well, Remus is packing – Sirius merely put all his clean clothes in his duffel and was ready. He feels a little bad for hot having anything new or nice to wear for Remus’s parents. He also feels bad for being already done with packing while Remus is still going, so he sits on the bed with Remus’s bag and folds the clothes as they’re given to him.
Sirius gives Remus a glance, but his back is turned, so he can’t read his face. His shoulders look tense, though, and Sirius doesn’t really like that. “Yeah? What is it?”
Remus turns with his arms full of clothes and dumps them on the bed, starting to go through them. The tension is clear on his face, too. “Well, I usually take my car when I visit my parents, but. Um. It’s an older Fiat, and I don’t drive it that often. I checked on it this morning to see if we’re good to go, and there were an alarming number of warning lights on. It was like a Christmas tree.” Sirius chuckles at the imagery, but Remus’s quick smile is almost a grimace. “I called Arthur Weasley’s auto shop, and he says I can bring it in anytime, but it’s clear I shouldn’t take it any further than that.”
“Oh.” That is a slight predicament, Sirius agrees, but it’s not enough to make Remus this tense. There must be something else. “Okay. We can take my car. Well, it’s Marlene’s but she’s got mine. I really should do something about that, huh?” The car has been more or less sitting in James’ garage since Sirius arrived; there are not that many places in Whitehaven that Sirius needs to go where he can’t just walk or catch a ride with someone else. “I’ll go get the car in the morning, and I’ll drive us. I like her car. It’s nice to drive. I might try to buy it from her, after all.”
Remus nods, looking like he’s choosing between two cardigans. Sirius thinks he should just bring them both, there’s room in the bag. “And you don’t mind driving the whole way, then?” he asks, and there’s a hesitation there that makes Sirius look a little closer.
Ah, he thinks. Right, the driving. Sirius thinks he should have thought of it sooner. “I don’t mind”, he says. “I really don’t.” Remus looks so physically relieved to hear that that Sirius would think it’s funny if he didn’t know the whole story with Remus and cars. “I’m sensing you don’t really like to drive.”
“No.” Remus audibly swallows, handing both of the cardigans to Sirius. “Not really.”
“Yeah. I think that’s understandable.” In a way, Sirius thinks it would be more logical for Remus to be more scared to sit on the driver’s seat than to drive himself, given the situation. But he also knows by now that trauma isn’t simple or straightforward. There’s no fighting where it settles. Still, he frowns as he neatly folds the cardigans into the bag. “Your doctor has a practice an hour away, how do you get there? Or to your on campus days at the University?”
The tips of Remus’s ears turn pink as he ducks his head, his chin against his chest. He keeps turning a plain grey tee in his hands. “Well. I drive.”
Sirius frowns. “Even though you... don’t want to?”
“We all have to do things that we don’t want to, from time to time.”
And that right there? That’s something Sirius’ mother would say. He’s actually sure he’s heard her say those exact words at least twice, her voice now echoing in his head as a bad memory. He almost shudders, trying to get it out, but settles on merely shaking his head sadly, taking the grey tee from Remus and folding it on top of the cardigans.
“Not if I can help it”, he decides. He can’t make sure nothing bad ever happens to Remus, no matter how much he wants to, but this much he can do. His heart hurts at the thought of Remus driving himself around, hands shaking and panic blocking the air in his throat. (He doesn’t really know what Remus’s trauma looks like, so he’s projecting his own anxiety attack symptoms.) “No, I won’t mind driving all the way to Rhyl, and I won’t mind driving back either. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ll never have to sit behind the wheel again if you don’t want to.”
This time when Remus smiles it actually reaches his eyes, and the knot in Sirius’ stomach loosens considerably. “Well, that’s a tad bit dramatic, even for you.” Remus pushes the clothes to the side and leans over the bag to give Sirius a kiss. It’s quite astonishing how all their talks seem to end there eventually. “Thank you, love”, he says, then kisses Sirius again. “And thank you for helping me pack. Not really a two-man job, though.”
Sirius hums in agreement when Remus pulls back. He doesn’t go far, sitting down on the other side of the bag and taking over folding the clothes into the bag. “Is this you telling me you don’t want my help with this?” Sirius asks, a little teasing, and gets a smile as a reward.
“No”, Remus says, and there’s a sneaky little lilt to his voice. “But I know you’re stressed, too, and I bought you a few bath bombs a few days ago when I was at the store.” Sirius just stares at him, speechless. Remus either doesn’t notice, or if he does he doesn’t let it really show, instead just keeps folding. “Now, I don’t know anything about bath bombs, but I recognised the label and checked with Lily, and she says they’re alright.”
It has become clear now that gifts are one of Remus’s love languages; small things like chocolate bars and cute book marks have appeared on the bedside table on Sirius’ side of the bed constantly since he started spending nights at the cottage, in addition to the Christmas presents as well as a soft ribbed beanie that Remus gave Sirius on New Year’s Day. (The beanie matches the socks Remus knit him. Sirius has never been big on beanies, but he loves this one.) So, this is not that surprising, in light of all that.
Still, a bath bomb? It’s so unexpected. Of course, Sirius loves bath bombs, and would use them quite regularly back in London as a way to relax – and not that he thinks about it, he did mention this to Remus weeks ago in maybe half a sentence. And once again, Remus has made note of that, put it in his mental notebook and marked it as “good to know” information. He’s sensed that Sirius is stressed, no matter if he knows what he’s stressed about (and let’s be real for a second, he probably does know), and has gotten him bath bombs, because he knows that a nice smelling bath helps Sirius relax before bed.
Sirius doesn’t have words in him at this point. He doesn’t know how to express himself properly in this moment, and even if he had the exact words, there’s a lump in his throat that would prevent him from speaking up. It’s truly wonderful, he thinks, to know you have found your forever person.
And of course, Remus notices his trouble to speak, and all he does is smile. “Go on. I’ll finish up here and make us something to eat before bed. The bath bombs are in the bathroom cabinet.”
Sirius nods, and he looks down at his hands, and he looks up at Remus again and his eyes burn because he loves Remus so much it’s almost impossible. He gets up on his knees and gives Remus a very thorough kiss, after which he just sniffs and whispers a soft “thank you” before slipping out of the bedroom, through the hallway and into the small bathroom.
There are three bath bombs, all of them the same affordable brand that Sirius remembers seeing in grocery stores for years now. He starts the water on the tub and chooses a bath bomb that smells like lavender, because it reminds him of the smell of the laundry detergent that Remus prefers and that Sirius has started to associate with comfort. Before taking off his clothes, he takes a picture of the packaging and sends it off to Lily with a smile.
To: Lily: nicely done, evans
From: Lily: Mm, good choice. I also love the rose one, you should try that one next time
From: Lily: And hey, good luck on your trip! Text me when you get there safely, and let me know how meeting the parents goes!!
The bath is lovely. It’s relaxing and calming in the way that it’s supposed to be, and Sirius stays in the bath tub until the water is barely even lukewarm and turning slightly uncomfortable. He keeps his eyes closed, and through the closed door he hears the moment when Remus finishes packing and places his bag in the hallway, then moves on to the direction of the kitchen. In the past Sirius has felt security in the silence, the proof that you are, in fact, alone and on your own in the space, that there is no one there that can surprise you at any given time. But in time, silence has become deafening, and he now prefers the sounds of Remus moving about to the still quietness of his flat in London.
After his bath, Sirius joins Remus at the dinner table for tea. Remus has pulled out several different things from the fridge, including half a vegetable pie and a container of leftover pasta, all foods that will no longer be edible when they return from their trip. It’s like a small feast, and by the time they retire to bed they’ve both eaten much more than they usually do.
In the time they have spent together, Sirius has found that he most likes to fall asleep with Remus’s arms around him. That’s what he wants to feel last thing on any given day, and that’s really the only part he cares about. Remus’s bed is slightly smaller than the bed Sirius has in the guest room at the Potters’ house, meaning that they need to tangle together quite tightly every night just to both fit there comfortably (oh, the tragedy). And that’s the way they end up tonight, too, with Remus’s chest against Sirius’ back, Remus’s arm tightly around his waist, the curves of their bodies fitting together like soft clay in moulds.
It takes Sirius longer than usual to fall asleep. He lies there, safe and secure against Remus, feeling the rise and fall of Remus’s chest as his breathing slows down, and his own mind starts to wander. It starts with just trying to figure out what he still needs to do in the morning before the long drive, what little knick-knacks he needs to pack and how is he going to remember to bring his phone charger with him. Then it’s just a skip and a hop to the reason of the trip altogether, and in less than ten minutes Sirius can feel his heart start to pound, and it’s almost like the entire calming bath was for nothing.
In an attempt to not disturb Remus’s sleep, Sirius tries to stay absolutely still and just keep the impending panic inside his head, but that obviously backfires, because almost as soon as Sirius starts panicking, he can feel Remus pressing his face against the back of his neck and one of his hands against his chest.
“You’re all tense”, Remus mumbles, and his palm settles over Sirius’ heart like weighted blanket. Sirius takes a deep breath and pushes his body back, trying to fit the two of them together even closer. He’s not sure if Remus was already asleep and woke up, or if he was only part way there, but he’s both saddened and grateful that he is awake now. “Are you nervous?”
Sirius sniffs and squeezes his eyes closed, then tries for a smile. “Me? Nervous about meeting your parents? No, why would I be, it’s not like they’re all the family you’ve got left and I need to make a good impression so that they won’t hate me for the rest of my life.” He tries to make fun of himself by exaggerating and keeping his voice light, but even to his own ears he sounds more manic and panicked than joking.
To Remus’s credit – and he deserves so much credit in general – he doesn’t immediately start telling Sirius he shouldn’t feel that way. Back when Sirius was seeing his therapist regularly, it was a big revelation for him to understand that he is allowed his feelings, and that whatever he is feeling at any given time is valid, and the root of the problem is not him but rather something out of his control. Sirius knows that Remus has been going through therapy, himself, and it shows in the way he lets Sirius have a moment feeling whatever it is he’s feeling, just holding him and keeping a grounding hand on his heart – a thing so simple it shouldn’t work but totally does.
It takes a moment, but eventually Sirius feels more stable, and when he does, he takes a breath and turns around in Remus’s arms, returning the hug. This feels better for tonight, he thinks, his face finding its place in the crook of Remus’s neck like coming home after a long day. He thinks he might be able to fall asleep now, just like that, but he knows that Remus will want to address the issue still – which he eventually does, after readjusting the duvet over them better.
“I would like to quote your own words to you, if you’ll allow me”, he says. His breath makes the shorter hairs on Sirius’ temple move and tickle, and the vibrations from his throat are slightly hypnotic. “You have nothing to worry about. You’ll charm their socks off the second you walk through the door.”
Sirius lets it wash over him. It’s not necessarily the words that get to him, but rather the way they are said. Remus is so sure of what he’s saying, and he’s the one who knows his parents best; who is Sirius to question that? There’s no doubt present in Remus’s voice when he says those words. It’s so easy to believe him that Sirius almost starts feeling a little stupid for worrying so much about the whole thing – almost.
What’s even easier to believe is that no matter what happens, Remus will be there with Sirius to face it. Just like he was right by Remus’s side when they met Fleamont and Euphemia over Christmas. It’s hardly the biggest hardship either of them has had to face in their lives, even if it feels like the most emotional one right now.
“And they’re not all the family I’ve got left” Remus continues after a moment, before Sirius has a chance to even think about responding. “I’ve got you. Well, the Potters too, I assume, but you, most of all.” Sirius swallows and squeezes his eyes closed impossibly tight. He will not let himself cry again, no matter how sweet Remus is being. “They’re going to love you. And not only because I love you, but because of who you are. Just let them see your heart, I promise you they will be sold.”
All Sirius can do is try to hold onto Remus just that little bit tighter, because really, who has given him the right to be this incredible this late at night? Sirius feels so seen, so understood, and when Remus yawns and kisses his temple, he whispers, “You’re my family, too”, and as he falls asleep not much later, he does believe it’s going to be alright, all of it.
Chapter 15: January, part II
Summary:
Family reunions, a cemetery, a beach, and a dog.
Notes:
every time that i think the next chapter can't possibly be longer than the last one, i seem to out do myself. so here, enjoy this almost 13k words of... well, i don't really know what this is. but there are things, for sure!
i know it's been a few weeks, but guess what, i've actually been reading a lot! i'm almost caught up in my reading goal for this year. if someone is interested in becoming pals with me, you can find me on StoryGraph under the name salla_kirjainmerkit (trust me, it makes sense in finnish). i read mostly in finnish, as that is my first language, but there are quite a few books i read in english, too.
anyway. just like Whitehaven, the Rhyl of this story exists only in my head. i hope i don't offend anyone with this. i tried to be respectful. idk, i think this is cute, but who knows.
Chapter Text
The drive down to Rhyl is beautiful. It’s four hours down the coast line, and Sirius has made a playlist to do with the wintery landscapes and the long road ahead of them. It’s a vastly different kind of drive from the last long drive Sirius did, the one back in August; this time not only does he have a properly packed bag and a special playlist, but he also has Remus on the passenger seat, and that alone makes all the difference.
Remus holds his hand over the console when the road stretches as long as the eye can see, and he reads him lines from the book he brought with him when he comes across one he thinks Sirius might enjoy. Remus smiles when Sirius sings along to the playlist and points out more and more of his favourite landmarks the closer they get to Rhyl. Remus packed them a lunch, which they eat in the car at a lookout facing the water like characters in a coming of age movie. Remus presses a lingering kiss to Sirius’ wrist before they make the last turn towards the town of Rhys, then starts giving Sirius instructions towards the Lupin residence.
They pull up in front of a modest family home, two stories high with a small driveway. There’s already a car parked there, which Remus tells Sirius is his father’s, and so they park on the side of the road next to the mail box as to not block Lyall in before his night classes.
Sirius looks at the house through the car window and smiles. He hasn’t spent that much time imagining what kind of house Remus grew up in, but somehow this is exactly what he’s expected. The wood panelling is weathered, the green paint peeling in some places (Remus has mentioned that there are tentative plans to repaint the house this coming spring), and the wrap around porch is cluttered in that way small porches get during winter months, when people just put stuff there to wait for warmer weather.
In his cottage, Remus only has one picture of his parents taken in this house, on the front steps. It’s an old picture, taken when Hope and Lyall first moved in as newlyweds. They were barely twenty years old, then, and the house was a bright happy green. Since that picture was taken, the tree on the front lawn has grown double in size, and although you can’t really tell since everything is out of season, Sirius is fairly sure there are a lot more flower benches now than there were originally. He finds himself dreaming about coming here during summer months and seeing the garden in full bloom.
There’s movement on the window by the front door, and Sirius recognises Hope smiling and waving at them through the glass. It’s likely that she can’t actually see Sirius yet, but Remus waves back at her and starts gathering his things on the passenger seat.
Sirius swallows.
“Hey, um. One more thing.” He takes Remus’s hand, partly in search of support, partly to keep him in the car just a short moment longer. “I trust you explicitly, you know that. And I trust your parents. And I don’t want to ask this of them, but I... I don’t want anyone really knowing where I am.”
He hasn’t been sure how he should bring it up, or if he should bring it up at all, if doing so would be disrespectful towards Remus’s parents. But this is also a safety issue for him, maybe not as much of physical safety but mental safety for sure, and so he feels like it should be mentioned. And he knows that Remus will understand what he means, that he doesn’t mean this as a diss to Hope and Lyall in anyway; that makes asking this a little easier.
(There is, of course, also the fact that, according to Remus, Hope and Lyall are not really in tune with who Sirius actually is. They know he’s famous, that he’s a musician, but Remus says he highly doubts they understand the level of his fame properly. It’s actually more likely for them to recognise him as the former heir to the Black family industry than to connect him to any songs they might have heard on the radio. Sirius has mixed feelings about that, too, but decides to work on that only if it ever becomes a problem.)
“They won’t tell anyone”, Remus says, gently but firmly confirming what Sirius already knows. “They know how to be discreet. But I’ll mention it to them, anyway, if that will make you feel better. A reminder can’t hurt.”
Sirius gives him a look that he knows is a little pleading. “I don’t want them to think I’m – “
“They won’t. Don’t worry about it.” Remus’s voice is firm, leaving very little room for Sirius to question him. It’s easy to believe Remus; he has an aura about him that makes him incredibly trustworthy and reliable. “Let’s go?”
“Wait.” Sirius takes Remus’s chin in his hand and pulls him into a quick kiss. Then he takes a deep breath and looks at the house again. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The walkway up to the front steps is icy, with some gravel scattered here and there in uneven patches, in an attempt to make it safer. Remus leads the way, and Sirius’ hand automatically comes to support his lower back, ready to catch him at the first sign of a stumble. Remus doesn’t say anything about it, but once they reach the door, he gives Sirius a quick look and a soft smile just as the front door is pushed open.
From the old picture of Lyall and Hope as well as from newer shots that Remus has shown him, Sirius knows that Remus is a splitting image of his father. However, what becomes evident the second that Hope opens the door is that Remus takes after his mother in more ways than he has let on. It’s in the eyes, in the smile, in the general aura around her when she first pulls Remus into a hug, then turns to Sirius and hugs him too without another word. Her hug is very reminiscent of the ones given by Euphemia, a mother’s hug, and Sirius can feel himself melting into it, to the feeling of welcoming acceptance that he has barely dared to hope for.
“Welcome, Sirius”, Hope says when she pulls back from the hug, taking both of Sirius’ hands in her smaller ones and quickly pulling him inside. “It’s so nice to meet you face to face. Come, sit, I have tea ready.”
It does take some of the edge off, the fact that Sirius has actually talked to Hope and Lyall on the phone before. He’s already on first name basis with them, he knows to expect dry humour from Lyall and motherly worry from Hope. He knows, when he follows Hope into the sitting room and meets Lyall, that the smile he sees on his face is genuine and not simply polite.
The house is cluttered and homey in the same way Remus’s cottage is, and Sirius can really see where the inspiration comes from. There’s a massive book shelf on the far wall, filled to the brim with books of different sizes, and the fireplace mantel has a long row of family pictures on it. Sirius is itching to go and explore both the books and the pictures (he can already tell there are quite a few of a young Remus, starting with one that looks like a barely a year old little thing bundled up in winter clothes), but he follows Hope and Remus to the couches, where Lyall shakes his hand and claps Remus good-naturedly on the shoulder.
“Did the drive down go alright?” Lyall asks, and Sirius is secretly delighted when Remus sits next to him on the couch, closer than he really needs to. “It’s a nice car you have there.”
“It’s my friend Marlene’s”, Sirius explains. Hope brings in a tray with tea and biscuits, and Sirius feels Remus’s arm behind him on the back rest. He makes it a point to try and relax his shoulders while he plays with the rings on his fingers. (He’s started to wear them again. He even found the old anxiety ring he got when he was twenty. Somehow, they help him feel more himself.) “Mine is still currently in London. But it did make the drive very smooth and nice, I have to admit. I really like that car.”
Hope takes her tea exactly the same way Remus does; with milk, and a generous teaspoon of honey. Lyall, on the other hand, seems to like his black tea with just a hint of honey, a little like Sirius himself does. It makes Sirius smile a bit, noticing this, and he very quietly makes note of these preferences and commits them into memory for future tea times.
“Remus told us you’ve been in Whitehaven for a few months now”, Hope says as she hands Sirius his cup. It’s not one of those dainty little cups the Blacks serve their tea that would break if you looked at them the wrong way – they're twice the size, with beautiful gold rims and floral designs. She pushes the generous plate of biscuits towards him encouragingly, and Sirius takes one. It’s chocolate chip raisin. Sirius wonders if Remus told her they’re his favourite; he probably did. “How do you like it so far, compared to London?”
“Well, they both have their perks”, Sirius says. His throat feels a little dry, like it always does when he’s nervous. He tries to swallow around nothing to make talking a little easier. “London is convenient, of course. For work. And everything is near and open twenty four seven. And I have a nice flat there, paid in full, which is comfortable and a definite plus. But Whitehaven... it’s calm. I – I like being closer to James and his family, they’re very important to me.” He turns the tea cup around on his plate so that the ear is to his right, then gives Remus a quick sideways glance. “And, of course, turns out that Whitehaven is full of surprises.”
The happy little hum that Hope lets out is so familiar to Sirius that it throws him a little. Lyall might physically really be Remus in twenty years, but all the rest? The rest he gets from his mother, from mannerisms to facial expressions to his kind, caring heart. “Oh, and you’re Harry’s godfather, right? We’ve heard so much about him, such a charming little boy.”
Remus starts telling his parents all about the Christmas celebrations, about how Harry fell asleep in a box full of shredded wrapping paper, and Sirius drinks his tea, feeling like a million pounds. Hope and Lyall are just as wonderful in person as they were over the phone, and as the conversation flows, they never make Sirius feel out of place. They don’t ask about his work; they seem more interested in Sirius’ younger years with James, how he ended up with the Potters, how he eventually became such great friends with Lily.
He tells them a lot. He tells them about the time he helped James break into the principal’s office at school so that he could ask Lily out through the intercom system, and how Lily yelled at the both of them with a red face because of it. He tells them about bonding with Lily over sibling troubles and preppy pop music, and how jealous James got over that. He tells them how much he missed Fleamont and Euphemia, how much lighter his heart feels now that he got to spend time with them over the holidays.
Hope and Lyall don’t ask about his relationship with his biological family. Sirius doesn’t know if this is because Remus has told them not to, or because they can sense it’s a difficult topic; either way, he is extremely grateful. He doesn’t know how he would explain the situation with his parents without sounding whiny and ungrateful, or how he could even begin to dissect what is going on with Regulus. The conversation stays light and airy, happy, and Sirius eventually relaxes fully, leaning against the back rest of the couch and feeling Remus’s fingers dance on his shoulder.
Once the tea is gone and the biscuits have been eaten, Hope gets up to finish cooking the dinner in the kitchen. Sirius is about to follow her, to offer his help, but Remus takes his hand and leads him upstairs with their bags.
“Your mother prepared your room for you”, Lyall calls after them. “You know where to find towels and extra blankets, should you need them.”
Sirius perks up. “Ooh, do I get to see your childhood bedroom?”
“Less a childhood bedroom, more a guest room.” Remus leads him through the small upstairs hallway and opens the last door on the left, stepping inside and looking around. “Most of this is new, including the wallpaper and the carpet. The desk and the book case I got when I was eleven, but they’ve been repainted since I moved out.”
The room is on the smaller side, and yes, mostly turned into a guest room now. Sirius tries to imagine what it must have looked like, once upon a time – did young Remus have books lying everywhere the same way the Remus of today does? Did he leave his clothes on a chair in the corner of the room like he does now? Did he place his reading glasses on top of a tall stack of books on the night stand, where they could easily fall and break? Sirius is hungry for every little clue of Remus’s past, and he lets his eyes linger on the books on the shelves, wondering how many of them Remus used to read when he was young.
Remus sits down on the edge of the bed while Sirius looks around. Sirius has seen guest bedrooms in his friends’ homes enough to see that there’s a lot more character here; Remus might not see it, but there’s a lot of clues left that tell the story of the room’s previous inhabitant. There’s an open box on one of the shelves in the book case, filled with pencils and note books and a few letters in their envelopes. On the back of the door, on a hook, there’s a hoodie that’s old and soft and has Remus written all over it. A poster advertising a book festival from years ago is still taped on the door of the closet. Whispers and echoes around the room tell Sirius that Hope and Lyall never just turned the room into a guest room without remembering the guy who grew up within its walls.
(Sirius wonders what happened to his old room back in the townhouse that he was raised in. Are there ghosts? Are there echoes of a child in pain and in need of a caring adult? Did his mother redo the entire room the first chance she got, erasing all evidence of Sirius ever even being there? Sirius wonders if he can ask Regulus about all this, if they learn how to navigate the mine field that their relationship now is.)
Sirius turns to look at Remus, finding him smiling at him that strange, lovely way he often does. “Are you still nervous?” Remus asks, and Sirius makes his way to him.
“No.” Sirius steps into the space between Remus’s knees, and Remus pulls him closer by his hips. He lets his hands rest on Remus’s shoulders, fingers playing with the collar of his jumper and the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Not really.”
Remus’s hair is getting slightly longer, too. Sirius would love to see him grow it out, but he doubts it’s something Remus would want to do, no matter how delighted he seems to be with Sirius’ increasingly longer hair. Sirius has found himself enjoying Remus playing with his hair a lot more than he ever thought he would, and now he wonders if Remus would like that, too. (So far there doesn’t seem to be a way Sirius has touched Remus that either of them hasn’t loved. That’s the magical part.) Remus’s hair gets into tight little curls when they’re long enough. It’s fascinating.
“It’s nice, you know. Seeing you with them.” Remus’s voice is low, kind of dreamy. His eyes stare somewhat unseeingly at a spot around Sirius’ collar, hands going up and down his sides. “I didn’t dare dream...”
“I know”, Sirius smiles and tilts Remus’s face up with a tiny movement of his fingers, just enough for a kiss. “It was the same for me, seeing you with Mom and Dadi.” It really was. Fleamont and Euphemia love Remus, they have already called Sirius two times to tell him so, expressing in many different ways how happy they are for the two of them. It was everything to Sirius to see them with Remus, see them all together around a dinner table and opening presents and having drinks in the living room. “A little overwhelming, isn’t it?”
“A little.” Remus quiets down, and Sirius rests his head on top of his, humming a soft tune as he does. He thinks it might be a brand new song; maybe he should have taken his guitar with him, after all. Faintly, he can hear the clanking of dishes from downstairs, likely Hope and Lyall setting the dinner table. Sirius feels a little guilty for not being of help. “I haven’t brought anyone home to meet them since I was seventeen.”
Sirius frowns, then leans back and looks at Remus. “Really?” It’s such a crazy thought to him, but once he ponders on it a few moments longer, it starts making sense. That’s when the gravity of the situation starts sinking in, too, and when Remus nods, Sirius leans in to press their foreheads together. “Well, I’m honoured to be here.”
He really is. He has been so deep inside his head with nerves, thinking how much this meeting means to him, that he hasn’t quite grasped or even understood what it means to Remus and his parents. It makes Sirius really think that maybe, just maybe, Remus wants this thing between them to last just as long as he does – forever and ever, if Sirius can help it. He feels like a teenager, but Remus smiles at him again and makes him not care.
Dinner means more gentle interrogation, this time aimed at Remus and his book. Sirius listens as he tells his parents about the settled publication date and the early reviews from his team, about his advance and the cautious book tour that’s been planned to follow right after the publication. Lyall seems a little worried about how the tour and other PR stuff will affect Remus’s work at the university, but otherwise he seems excited about it all. Sirius learns that Lyall himself has written a couple of history books as part of his research for the university when Remus was young but has only ever dreamed about writing a novel.
It’s incredible to see how clearly proud Hope and Lyall are of their son. It fills Sirius’ chest with warmth, even if there still is some lingering sting from knowing he never caused such pride in the Blacks. Then Hope ushers Sirius to take more of the casserole (mushrooms and caramelised onions – Remus's favourite, just as promised, and it’s quickly becoming one of Sirius’ favourites, too) and shares a smile with him that’s just as warm as the one aimed at Remus, and Sirius really hopes his cheeks aren’t quite as red as they feel.
Lyall needs to leave for his night class before dessert, which Hope serves in beautiful little crystal bowls in the living room; baked apples and pears with vanilla custard and cinnamon. When Sirius comments on the bowls and their intricate designs, she tells him the dishes were a wedding present from Lyall’s grandmother. Remus looks like he’s heard the story a thousand times before, but Sirius drinks in every word.
“It’s really a set of twelve, but one of them was shattered some years ago”, Hope explains. “For the first eight years of our marriage, I kept the bowls in their box up in the attic. I only took them out when she was visiting or we had a special celebration, like Remus’s Christening. But then, when he was six years old, Remus explained to me, smart lad that he is, that the bowls are meant to be used. He said the bowls were sad, that he could hear them crying in their box because the rest of the dishes got to be in the kitchen and they had to stay in the attic.”
“A curious little gay kid wanted to use the pretty shiny bowls for cereal”, Remus scoffs, but when Sirius looks over there’s a smile in his eyes. “What a shocker.”
Sirius knows Remus doesn’t quite mean it the way it sounds, and that intuitive knowledge of how Remus’s mind works leaves Sirius looking at him with wonder. He tries to imagine a small baby Remus with grave knowledge, a serious lilt to his voice and a twinkle in his eyes as he explains about the sad dessert bowls he probably has only seen once or twice in his life. It’s an endearing image, one that Sirius wants to keep in his heart always because it makes it feel so warm and fuzzy. He realises he needs childhood pictures of Remus like he needs air to breathe, and he wonders how difficult it would be to try and convince Hope to show them to him tomorrow. (He doesn’t think it’s going to be very difficult at all, judging by the fact that Hope seems more than ready to share Remus with him. It’s exciting.)
It’s a lovely evening, in every way; the little nervousness that was still clinging to Sirius’ shoulders during dinner is gone by the time he’s done with dessert and Remus has thrown his feet over his lap on the couch. He’s wearing some knitted socks that Sirius only now realises are the same pattern as the ones Remus gave him for Christmas, just a more muted colourway, and a brand new wave of affection washes over him. Sirius listens to Remus and Hope talk about neighbours and people around town, and he thumbs at the small patch of skin peeking out between the sock and the pant leg that’s ridden up. There’s a grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and when it chimes the sound is a little lower than on the one Remus has in the cottage, but it’s familiar enough that it gives Sirius a sense of home.
Hope heads up to bed a little after ten, and Sirius and Remus retire soon after. The wind outside is picking up, rattling the window in Remus’s old bedroom when they pull back the thick duvet and slip between the sheets (they smell like lavender, like Remus’s laundry detergent, but somehow different), instantly gravitating towards each other to the middle of the mattress. The room, staying uninhibited most of the time, feels slightly cold compared to the rest of the house, but Remus is warm, and he pulls Sirius against him like it’s second nature at this point, making him smile.
“Thanks for coming with me”, Remus mumbles, running his fingers through Sirius’ hair and massaging his scalp as he goes. Sirius pushes up against him even tighter and locks their ankles together, almost hearing the way Remus smiles at that.
“Of course.” Sirius presses a kiss over Remus’s heart, then rests his head on the same spot. “Thanks for asking me to.”
It will probably take Sirius a while still to understand the gravity of Remus bringing him to Rhyl with him. To Sirius, it’s mind-boggling to think that Remus hasn’t brought anyone to meet Hope and Lyall in almost ten years, not since that disastrous car accident. He thinks he understands Remus enough that he can see why it would feel like a too big of a step to take with someone; they haven’t had that conversation in depth yet, but Sirius is under the impression that there have been some not that great relationships in Remus’s past that his parents probably know nothing about. The part that will still take Sirius a lot of time to wrap his mind (and his heart) around is that after just a couple of months, Remus is so sure about him, about them, that he took Sirius with him to Rhyl the first chance he got.
As he closes his eyes and listens to Remus’s steady heartbeat that’s become his favourite lullaby, Sirius thinks about the pressure he’s under and truly hopes he can live up to the expectations – ones that he has to admit, are of his own devising.
**
Sirius is, indeed, very successful in convincing Hope to take out the photo albums – all it takes is a smile and an honest wish to know everything there is to know about Remus. After a very lovely breakfast, Hope sits Sirius down on the living room couch and sits down next to him with three thick albums in her lap, opening the first one on the coffee table with an excited grin that Sirius thinks might match his perfectly.
(The more Sirius sees of Hope’s different smiles, the more he understands how much Remus really takes after her. It’s uncanny. Even their little hums and breathless giggles sound the same. It makes Sirius instantly love Hope, if only for creating the love of his life so perfectly.)
Hope shows Sirius everything: the school portraits, the old blurry pictures from the day Remus was born, the small child grinning with both of his front teeth missing. Graduations, birthdays, family vacations, the first time Remus broke his wrist after jumping on a friend’s trampoline when he was seven. Remus with a cast on, Remus in thick winter clothes like the ones Harry now wears, Remus in funeral clothes, Remus in swim trunks, Remus on the stage of his old school giving a speech. Remus, Remus, Remus. The love and care with which Hope has collected and saved and arranged every moment of Remus’s life, big and small, is evident on every page Sirius turns, in all the little texts next to the pictures, stating the year and Remus’s age.
Sirius quickly finds favourite pictures of Remus at every age. He loves seeing the adorable little boy grow from a rambunctious, fun loving little kid into a studious preteen, then to a shy, serious, slightly sulky teenager who is clearly avoiding the camera and who somehow at the same time already has some of the major characteristics that Sirius has grown to know and love. He sees familiar parts in every picture, his heart thumping inside his chest with affection
Hope tells him stories behind all the pictures, the fun ones and the heartbreaking ones, and some of them are ones Sirius isn’t sure Remus would really want her to share; Sirius keeps glancing towards the door to Lyall’s study, where Remus is talking about Lyall’s latest research, and he wonders if he should stop Hope and tell her he’d much rather have Remus tell him these things himself if he ever feels like it. But each time he gathers the courage, the topic has already changed into something much more light hearted, and they end up both laughing at one thing or another.
It’s the third album that Hope hesitates a little on, before setting it down on the coffee table in front of Sirius. “I don’t know how much Remus has told you about... his accident”, she says. The way she says the word accident is very different from the way Remus says it, but Sirius can’t pinpoint the reason. It makes Sirius a little uneasy, the uncertainty.
“I know the big picture”, Sirius tells her. “I know what happened and how it affects him today.” It’s a very delicate line to toe, Sirius is learning, between wanting so much to bond with your potential in-laws and staying loyal to your partner. It’s not exactly something his anxiety makes any easier, either. He looks at the photo album, the beautiful brown leather cover of it, and calculates in his head. He has a feeling he knows where this one picks up. “I don’t think we should look at those pictures. Not without him.”
Sirius doesn’t dare look at her, but he can feel Hope’s eyes on him when she places a hand on top of his in his lap. Her hand is small and warm on his wrist, the tips of her fingers running cold – again, exactly like Remus’s do. It doesn’t really feel right to him to look at pictures that probably show a part of Remus’s history he himself doesn’t want to think about; pictures that show him at his lowest, or the process of his healing. Sirius can only hope he will be privileged with those pictures one day, when Remus is ready.
“You love him a lot, don’t you?” Hope asks, and her voice is much softer now than it was when she told her stories; careful and almost fragile. Like she’s marvelling on the thought, or maybe even scared of being wrong.
With a blush burning on his cheeks, Sirius smiles and takes a peek at Hope from under his bangs. “I do”, he says, twisting his hand enough to give her fingers a squeeze. The red string still tied on his other wrist burns against his skin like warm metal, strangely comforting. “He came into my life at exactly the right time. I want to give him the world because he’s hands down one of the best people I know, and I am so in love with him.”
Hope doesn’t say anything to that, just squeezes Sirius’ hand back and finally opens the photo album, skipping the first pages and starting her stories again with a Remus who looks almost identical to the one Sirius knows and loves. They continue like they did before, only now Hope leans against Sirius’ side every now and then and keeps touching his hand gratefully. Sirius has to swallow a lump in his throat a few times.
It takes them a while to go through all the pictures, with Hope constantly going back to the two other albums to recount another thing she forgot to mention earlier. Sirius drinks it all up, mesmerised by all this new information about Remus and how he grew up. He wishes he had something like it to share with Remus about his own history; wonders if Euphemia has kept any of the pictures they took on Fleamont’s camera without permission. He should give her a call, see what she has. (Maybe he can take Remus on a trip to Cambridge to their home, show him the places he loves like Remus is doing in Rhyl. It’s a lovely thought.)
Sirius is so deep into the pictures and the stories that one could think he wouldn’t notice Remus emerging from the study and appearing at the living room doorway; instead, Sirius is highly aware of it, he always feels Remus’s presence when he’s near, like gravity. He doesn’t look up, but he can see in the corner of his eye how Remus leans on the door frame, relaxed and quite content. Sirius basks in it, the feeling of having Remus’s attention, and it’s a little silly because he has Remus’s attention a lot of the time, but it feels good, it’s grounding, it’s validating in a way Sirius can’t really explain.
It’s mostly due to the way Sirius is so aware of Remus that he notices him take out his phone and point it at him and Hope there on the couch. In his years in the public eye, Sirius has gotten very good at ignoring phones and cameras pointed at him, to the point where he’s sometimes surprised to see pictures of himself online from moments and situations where he truly thought he had gone unnoticed. But Remus takes out his phone and clearly takes a picture, and Sirius notices, and he doesn’t mind. It feels so different from anyone else taking a picture of him, even different from James or Lily, although he doesn’t mind those either. He’s actually pretty excited to see how the picture turns out, how he looks like to Remus here, in Remus’s home, with his mother.
Sirius can’t help but smile and glance up at Remus, and then Remus takes another picture of said smile. There’s that soft look on his face when their eyes meet that Sirius really loves, the one Sirius often sees when he’s playing the guitar at the cottage or they’re reading together on the couch, sometimes when he looks just up suddenly in the middle of doing something and finds Remus already looking at him from across the room, a lot like he is now.
It’s possibly the movement of his head that alerts Hope, because she then looks up at Remus too, then at the grandfather clock, and her entire body starts. “Oh, goodness, look at the time! We should get lunch started if we want to visit the cemetery before it gets dark!”
She gets up, and Sirius has every intention of following her into the kitchen to help her with lunch, but once he has closed the photo album and tries to walk past Remus, he gets kidnapped into a hug that’s almost more of a snuggle. Remus kisses his temple and his cheek before Sirius can even turn to face him, and Sirius laughs a little, very happy to be pulled to Remus’s body like this.
“Come on, I need to go help your mom so that mine doesn’t show up out of thin air and give me an earful”, Sirius says, actually very into the idea of Euphemia and Hope meeting. It gives him flutters inside his chest, and in the back of his mind he’s already wondering if he could make it happen. Perhaps during the summer. “She has a real sense for these things, you know.”
Remus hums. “In a minute.” Sirius happily stands there, feeling Remus’s lips on his neck and his arms around him. He wonders if it’ll ever get old, this feeling of being so completely and wholeheartedly cherished. “I love you.”
Sirius puts a hand on the back of Remus’s neck. “I love you, too.” He leans back slightly, trying to figure out where Remus’s head is at, and once he’s satisfied with the small smile he sees, he relaxes further into the hug. After a few deep breaths, the grandfather clock chimes, and once the sound fades out they slowly detangle. “Send me the pictures?”
There’s a slight, lovely blush on Remus’s cheeks, like he’s been caught doing something he’s not supposed to. “Okay.”
With a grin, Sirius takes one of his hands, presses them against his own lips and then quickly against Remus’s before slipping from his arms and following Hope into the kitchen, enjoying the breathless little laugh that Remus lets out.
**
One of the things Sirius hasn’t packed is gloves – partly because he honestly just forgot, partly because he doesn’t have any in Whitehaven, anyway, aside from the ones he uses for his runs, and those are safely back in the cottage in a pile with his other running clothes. Had he thought about it, Sirius would have had the time to buy some before the trip (he’s been meaning to, anyway), but in all his nervousness and his and Remus’s mutual excitement the whole idea to bring gloves has totally slipped his mind.
“Well, that just won’t do”, Hope reprimands in her motherly way just as they’re about to leave. She takes a wicker basket from a shelf in the hall, rummaging through it for a while, and eventually hands a warm looking pair of mittens to Sirius. “There. Can’t have you losing any fingers to frostbite, we’d be terrible hosts.”
Sirius smiles and takes the mittens from her. They’re a rather chunky knit, soft and grey, and clearly well worn. “Oh, these are so cute! Did you knit these yourself?” he asks, remembering that Remus learned the skill from his mother.
Hope hums a no. “Those are actually the first ones Remus ever made”, she explains, and Sirius knows that behind him, Remus is feeling a little embarrassed. He can just tell, he doesn’t need to turn and look. “I think he was fifteen at the time. He was home sick for a whole week during flu season, and we worked on those for five days.” She looks over Sirius’ shoulder at Remus, her eyes soft and laughing. “You were so proud of those, too. Wore them every day to school that winter, you did.”
After seeing all those pictures, imagining a fifteen year old Remus with a flu and knitting needles is very easy for Sirius. He has a grin on his face and he clutches the mittens against his chest as he turns to look at Remus – who, predictably, has a slight blush on his cheeks that Sirius finds very beautiful.
“That is the most adorable thing I have heard in my entire life”, Sirius breathes, and the blush on Remus’s cheeks darkens.
“No, it’s not, you drama queen”, Remus huffs as he pushes Sirius out the door. Hope and Lyall laugh as they follow, and Sirius officially feels like a part of their little unit.
Sirius doesn’t know when he last visited a cemetery. He knows he must have attended a few funerals when he was small, because he remembers both of his mother’s parents dying around the same time, but he doesn’t remember anything about a funeral – probably because he’s been blocking out so many of those memories. Since leaving that house, he’s had no reason to go to a cemetery, and now finds himself actually a little curious about the one in Rhyl.
It’s not far from the house, maybe a twenty minute walk at a leisure pace. All three Lupins point out places to Sirius that are relevant, like Remus’s old school or the house where his grandmother, Lyall’s mother, used to live. Eventually, Sirius and Lyall start lagging behind, Remus and Hope skipping ahead to get flowers from a nearby florist. Sirius hears a lot about the Lupin family history then, how many generations have lived in Rhyl, how Lyall himself once wanted to get as far away from this place as possible, refusing to just be another guy in a line of guys who never saw the world.
“That’s before I met Hope, of course.” Sirius listens to the story, watching through the florist’s window how Remus and Hope choose between two different coloured heather-like plants. “I met her three weeks before I was supposed to submit my application for a year abroad. In the end, the comforts of home and the area that I knew like the back of my hand started to look very good.”
Sirius doesn’t hear resentment in his voice – he doesn’t want to hear it, but it’s also very much absent. There’s an old longing, though, that Sirius recognises and relates to. He’s touched that Lyall shares this all with him, even if it’s a little puzzling to him as to why; maybe Lyall can sense a similar kind of old longing in Sirius that hasn’t been in the forefront of his mind in years now.
Remus comes out of the flower store, holding a reddish purple plant in his arms and holding out a hand for Hope to help her down the few icy steps. They continue towards the cemetery, Hope still clinging to Remus’s arm, and Sirius falls into step with Lyall, a calm silence settling over them. Sirius likes the crunch of the gravel, the wind in the trees, the soft babbling as Hope and Remus talk about something or another – it's just windy enough that their low voices get lost in the air. When Sirius sneaks a peek at Lyall, there’s a thoughtful smile on his face and his eyes are trained on Hope’s back. Maybe that’s the extent of his musings.
The cemetery isn’t that big, and Sirius isn’t sure if he’s allowed to describe it as cosy, but that’s the vibe he gets. Most of the tombstones are old and a bit mossy, there are a few iron crosses here and there, and most of the graves have at least a candle on them. There’s only one other person there, all the way across the yard paying their respects. It’s a calm place, probably exactly like any other cemetery in Britain, but since it’s the first one Sirius will have any kind of memory of, he decides he likes it the best of them all.
Hope’s mother and brother are buried next to each other near the stone wall furthest away from the road. Helene has a beautiful reddish stone with gold engravings, but Daniel’s is more contemporary, grey granite and lying flat rather than upright. Lyall and Sirius stand back while Remus and Hope set their plant in between the two graves and dig through Hope’s purse for matches to light up the two candles they have brought from home. Remus dusts off the stones and picks up the few flyaway leaves, cleaning the spot as best he can.
“I don’t regret the choices I made.” Lyall keeps his voice low as they watch the two work. Sirius is happy to hear this, but he wonders where this is going. “I do, however, regret not trying to make the year abroad work. There could have been a lot more for Hope and I – more for Remus.”
As Sirius watches, Remus and Hope take a step back and just look at the graves. Remus has his arm around his mother, and it looks like Hope is drying her eyes. Sirius feels privileged to be here with all the Lupins in this moment; he’s never thought about how much a cemetery can bring people together, how much a marked place to visit can mean to some people.
Lyall speaks again, turning to look at Sirius. Sirius meets his gaze, a little startled by the intensity. “Remus deserves a lot more than he is settling for right now”, Lyall says, and not in an accusing way, but it still doesn’t sound right to Sirius. “I hope you know that. Please don’t dim his light.”
Sirius doesn’t necessarily agree; he doesn’t think Remus is really settling for anything. In fact, in his own rather quiet way, Remus is determinedly carving a place of his own in the history books. It’s maybe not the way Lyall would have gone about it, so he doesn’t wholly recognise it, but Sirius sees it, and he is in awe of Remus every day. Remus is going for what he wants in a way that suits him the best, and Sirius will be there to encourage him for more every time he wants to take that step.
It is, however, clear that this is Lyall’s whole point – all he wants is to make sure that his son has his chance to shine, even standing by Sirius’ side. Clearly Lyall is a bit more aware of Sirius’ fame than Remus thinks, and Sirius thinks his concern is valid. For someone else, it would be the easiest thing in the world to just do his own thing and put their partner’s hopes and ambitions on the back burner; some people even plan it like that, giving each other the limelight in turns. But Sirius is not like that, he wants them both to shine, and he wants to shine with Remus. He never wants to have Remus take a step back if he doesn’t want to, even if Sirius himself doesn’t hate the idea of staying in the background and watching Remus dazzle the world.
So Sirius doesn’t agree, but he understands. And his only job in this moment is to make Lyall not worry so much. He doesn’t know if he’ll be successful, but all he can really tell Lyall is the truth.
“I would never want to do that.” He holds Lyall’s gaze, even though it makes him a little itchy. “Remus’s success is just as important to me as my own is. I'm really looking forward to seeing what he can achieve after this first book, and I’ll be by his side for as far as he allows me.” Sirius can see it so clearly, how Remus will conquer the world with his words. He’s going to be magnificent.
Lyall looks at him for a long moment, then nods once in a very decisive way and turns his eyes forward again. “Good.” Then, just as Remus and Hope seem to be done and start walking towards them and Sirius thinks the conversation is over, Lyall claps a hand on his shoulder, startling him. “You’re a good man, Sirius.”
Sirius doesn’t have a chance to respond to that, which is just as well since he has no idea what to say to that. Remus is by his side in just three more steps, taking his hand and leading him back out the cemetery gate the same way they came in, Lyall and Hope following close behind.
“Mmh, nothing like a nice walk and a little cry to spice up a Saturday afternoon”, Hope smiles and gives out a little laugh – a very similar to the one Remus gives when he thinks he’s being a little silly. “Shall we walk back the same way, or did we want to make a detour?”
Sirius doesn’t have an opinion either way, which is just as well because Remus has another suggestion – something he has clearly been thinking about for a while. “Actually, Mam, I was thinking I might want to take Sirius down by the shore.” When Sirius looks, there’s a small blush on Remus’s cheeks. It’s quite lovely. “We’ll be back in time to help with dinner, I promise!”
Hope gives the two of them a knowing smirk before saying her farewells and turning to head back home with Lyall. Remus, on the other hand, takes Sirius to the opposite direction, towards where Sirius can smell the salty sea air greeting them the closer they get. They don’t speak much, just Remus pointing out a few things on store fronts and Sirius commenting on the very picturesque scenes. Sirius loves the silences between them, loves being led into the unknown by Remus. It might be a very nice indication on how the rest of their lives might pan out.
The beach where Remus leads him is beautiful in the barren way all beaches are in January. It’s empty save for the two of them and a flock of birds a little further down south; Sirius gets a strange urge to run towards them and scare them off like a little child, or an over energised dog. He feels the open shore in the way his chest expands with each breath and is very glad he has Remus’s hand in his, anchoring him into the present.
They slow their walk down into a gentle stroll, and they follow the path where the sand meets bigger rocks. It seems like it’s a popular route to walk, and it’s easy to see why; the gorgeous houses on the other side are just as nice a view as the sea is. After walking for what feels like an hour and at the same time not even five minutes, Sirius takes off one of his mittens and picks up a rock that fits on the palm of his hand quite nicely. It’s a beautiful red colour, and there’s a dark streak across it, almost in the shape of a lightning.
“What do you think?” He holds the rock out for Remus to see, grinning from ear to ear. “For Harry’s collection?”
Remus looks at the rock with a smile, hums in approval, then takes it from Sirius’ hand to put it in the breast pocket of his coat for safekeeping. Sirius watches him pat down over it after zipping up again, like he’s making sure the rock is right where he wants it to be. You are so cute, Sirius thinks and can’t help it when his smile morphs into a much sappier one. He takes a step closer to Remus, very much intending on stealing a kiss or two, when he hears a happy bark and turns around just in time to see a dog barrelling towards them.
“Oh, well hello there! Aren’t you a pretty thing.” Sirius crouches down to greet the animal, not able to resist a friendly dog. “What’s your name, huh?” There’s a tag shaped like a heart on the dog’s black leather collar, and Sirius gives it a quick look. “Ellie? That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl. Yes, you’re a very pretty girl.”
The dog grins at him and her tail whisks around hard enough to make her entire body shake. She’s some kind of a mix, Sirius thinks, but there’s definitely some golden retriever in her. He likes golden retrievers, their happy nature, although in his heart he’s always liked shepherd dogs the best. There’s something about the way they are guardians without being imposing or scary that’s always appealed to him
Sirius keeps petting the wiggling dog for a while, laughing. Eventually, there’s a whistle that gets Ellie’s attention, and she’s off again; she makes a little circle around Sirius and Remus, then runs off the way she came from.
“I always wanted a dog, you know”, Sirius says a little out of breath, watching the furry creature run further down the shore towards her human. “I asked for one, when I was seven, I think. The yelling it caused kept me from asking again.” He has a wistful smile on his face; the memory is old enough that he is able to pick and choose which part of it he wants to remember. He chooses the child’s wish for a pet, a companion. It’s a rather easy thing to ask for, he thinks.
“You didn’t get one when you moved to London on your own?” It’s staged as a question when it really isn’t one; obviously Sirius doesn’t have a dog. But Sirius does hear the actual question behind it when he stands up and reaches for Remus’s hand again.
“Well, I thought about it.” They start walking again, even slower than earlier if possible. Sirius thinks he might like the beach in Rhyl even more than he likes the one in Whitehaven. “I even looked at a few rescue shelters, but I just kept pushing it to the back burner and then eventually... I guess I forgot, for a while.”
The dog reaches the old man she belongs to, and they start walking away from the beach, quickly disappearing between the rows of buildings. It leaves Sirius and Remus more or less alone on their little stretch of sand, sandwiched between a busy little town and the sea. Remus squeezes Sirius’ hand from time to time, and Sirius always squeezes back, wishing the air was not quite as cold so that he could take the mittens off. He misses feeling Remus’s skin against his, which is so stupid because there really is no lack of touching between them in general, but it’s been hours now, and Sirius just likes holding Remus’s hand in his without any kind of gloves, anyway.
“You could get a dog now”, Remus says then, bringing Sirius out of his thoughts. He turns to look at him, seeing him stare out at the sea. His cheeks are red, and Sirius can’t really tell if it’s all from the cold wind.
“Yeah?” Sirius is a little bit surprised. He hasn’t thought it a proper thing to bring up; Sirius is practically a nomad at the moment, living out of his duffel bag. No matter how at home he feels at the cottage, Sirius doesn’t exactly live there, and it doesn’t feel like a polite thing to do to get a dog to run around someone else’s home. He hasn’t even really thought about getting a dog, because he doesn’t truly have his own space outside of London, no matter how welcome everyone has made him feel.
Remus hums thoughtfully and shrugs. “I mean, why not? What’s stopping you?”
Nothing, Sirius supposes as he looks at the curious look on Remus’s face. Apparently, nothing is stopping him, at least not Remus. “I don’t know.” He leans in close to Remus and twists around until his arm rests on his shoulders. “I guess nothing.” Sirius puts his own arm around Remus’s waist, turning their walk into a slow waddle. “Do you like dogs?”
Close to Remus’s body like this, Sirius can feel his thoughtful hum. “I used to think myself more of a cat person. We never had pets when I was growing up because Dad doesn’t really care for them and Mam doesn’t like the mess they make.” He pauses for a bit, then continues with a more somber tone. “After the accident, I had seizures for a while. Not bad ones, but it was scary. There was a discussion about a service dog, back then, and I didn’t entirely hate the idea.” A gust of wind hits then, making them instinctively duck their heads into their collars. “But the seizures stopped before I got out of the hospital, so no dog, I’m afraid.”
It’s not really the clear yes or no answer Sirius was looking for, but it tells him a lot all the same. It’s another grim reminder that the accident Remus was in was even worse than Sirius has been thinking, but at the same time it shows that Remus has already come a long way since then. He might not see it like that himself most of the time, but Sirius can help him with that. Even knowing as relatively little as he does, he’s extremely proud of the way Remus doesn’t let the accident define him in anyway, no matter how much it still affects his life.
They come to a stop near a pier that’s been blocked off for the winter months. For a moment, the wind seems to stop altogether, and the world is still and quiet for a few beats. Sirius stands incredibly still with Remus, the silence ringing in his ears. It feels like the whole world is still and silent at their feet, waiting for something. For what, Sirius is almost too scared to find out.
And then the wind picks up again, bringing in some bigger waves and sprays of water from the sea, hitting tiny icy drops across Sirius’ cheeks, and the moment is gone.
“One of the reasons I got so fond of Whitehaven so fast was the beach there”, Remus explains, pulling Sirius back a little, away from the water sprays. “It reminds me of home, a bit; it’s different, but similar enough that I don’t get home sick all the time. And it has less ghosts from my past.”
Sirius can understand that. He himself finds Whitehaven so completely different from his birthplace in downtown London that the newness itself is a comfort, and the familiarity of having James there brings the comfort of home he sometimes craves. It’s rather a perfect town – to hide, to plant roots, to get back your bearings.
Remus turns to look at Sirius, and Sirius meets his eyes easily; it’s like his eyes always want to find Remus’s, no matter where they are. “I wanted to show this place to you partly because it’s so beautiful and I thought you would enjoy it. But also... well. I just also really wanted to give this place a new happy memory, untainted by regret and pain.”
Remus doesn’t have to spell it out any further; it’s clear to Sirius that it’s a place that Remus has associated with his first boyfriend for a long time now. Sirius turns to look at the sea for a moment. It’s a rather romantic place, now that he thinks about it. It’s no wonder a teenager would want to take a stroll there, high on that feeling of a first love. (It makes Sirius a little bit sick, thinking about young, impressionable Remus with a man he knows enough about to describe as manipulative, predatory, abusive. But he was a teenager himself, once – he can see the appeal of an older guy, someone who seems to have their life together, who knows what they’re doing, shows you a whole new world.) Sirius has half a mind to come back here with Remus at sunset, to see the sky paint the sea a glimmering gold and red and orange.
Taking a slow deep breath, Sirius turns around in Remus’s arms to look at the superior view of Remus’s face. It’s like an open book to Sirius now, in a way it’s not always been, a way he still doubts it always will be. There are a lot of different emotions in Remus’s eyes now, ranging from sadness to hope and from old bitterness to such an all consuming love that it takes Sirius’ breath away.
“Thank you for bringing me here”, Sirius says, voice so soft he’s not entirely sure it carries over the wind. Judging by the smile that blooms on Remus’s lips, it does. “It’s beautiful.”
Remus’s wool gloves feel scratchy against Sirius’ cheeks when he frames his face. The kiss is short, almost routine, but not lacking in emotion; never lacking. After, Remus looks at his eyes for a good long moment before pulling himself away and taking a step back.
“Wait here”, he says, walking backwards away from Sirius. “I’m going to find you a gift.”
A startled laugh leaves Sirius’ lips. “A gift? From the beach?”
“Sure.” Remus looks young. He looks happy. Sirius watches as he looks around a place he knows like the back of his hand, watches him see it with new eyes. “I’ll know it when I see it!”
Sirius laughs as he watches his ridiculous man run off the path they came here, scanning the ground for who knows what. He doesn’t go far, zigzagging the strip of sand, almost getting hit by the waves before turning back. Sirius has seen Remus like this a few times before, when he’s roughhousing with Harry or in a particularly playful mood after a few glasses of wine. He’s a marvel, a miracle, a gift in himself – Sirius will never need another one from him.
Taking his phone out of his coat pocket, Sirius strips off his mittens and takes a few pictures; some of the sea and the waves, but mostly of Remus, who is now walking only a few meters away, his back turned and head down. One of the pictures is especially nice, with Remus off centre and the way the wind has caught into Remus’s hair and scarf, tossing them around. It’s a real no brainer to set it as a home screen, but then Sirius does something he can’t explain to himself: he sends the picture to his brother.
The answer comes before Sirius can put his phone away. It still feels strange, the way he can now reach Regulus with a few touches on his phone screen.
From: Reggie: That looks nice. Is that Whitehaven?
To: Reggie: no, i'm on a trip. whitehaven does look a bit like this though
From: Reggie: Right.
The conversation feels strained. Is it strained? Or is Sirius’ brain working on overdrive when it comes to Regulus? Sirius looks at the screen. The little dots appear and disappear on the screen – Regulus is typing, then not, then typing again. When the new message finally delivers, Sirius has already gone through a hundred different options in his mind, and yet it’s nothing close to that.
From: Reggie: Who are you on a trip with? Potter?
Sirius stares at the question. It would be so easy to answer that, yes, he’s on a trip with James. It would be logical, he thinks, for Regulus; as far as he’s concerned, Sirius is very much in hiding, and has no other connections in Whitehaven but James and his family. It’s still more or less true – Sirius' social circle is so small that it’s a little bit pathetic, consisting mainly of Remus, the Potters, and the occasional dinner guests. He makes himself a promise to work on that once they get back home.
He almost types out a simple yes, but then changes his mind. If Sirius ever wants to repair his relationship with Regulus, he can’t start their fragile communication with a lie, no matter how easy, no matter how probable. His hands shake a little as he waits for Regulus to reply, but he doesn’t know if it’s nerves or the cold.
To: Reggie: no. my boyfriend, remus
From: Reggie: Didn’t realise you’d have one of those.
A pit appears in Sirius’ stomach as he reads those words. He can almost hear his mother’s sneer behind them. How much does Regulus take after her? Is Sirius having a boyfriend too much? There’s still so much Sirius doesn’t know, and he desperately wants to know, before he can see the two of them being close again.
Thankfully, another message appears before Sirius can think himself into a panic attack.
From: Reggie: I’m glad you do, though.
Sirius barely has a chance to take a breath after reading that, because suddenly Remus is there, hugging him from the side and pressing his face into Sirius’ hair. Sirius puts his phone away and turns to look at him, choosing to unpack all that at a later time and instead focus on the moment.
“Any news from James or Lily?” Remus asks, dropping a kiss on Sirius’ nose. He’s still in such a good mood, Sirius doesn’t want to dampen his own by dwelling on something Regulus might or might not mean.
“Mm, no, not yet.” The baby’s due date was yesterday. Lily is sure she won’t go into labour in days yet, but Sirius has still made James promise to let him know the second something changes. He might not know a lot about childbirth, but he does know that these things can develop quite quickly. “I took a few very nice pictures, though. I’ll show you when we get inside.”
“Deal.” Remus kisses him again, this time on the lips, and Sirius drowns in it for a good while until he feels Remus take his hand and press something in it. “I found something for you.”
It’s another rock. Light in colour, almost white. It fits on the palm of Sirius’ hand even better than the one they found for Harry does. The surface is smooth and almost shiny, the feel of it is addictive under the pad of Sirius’ thumb. The rock is warm from Remus holding it in his fist for a while, and Sirius can feel the warmth in his freezing hands.
The rock is shaped like a heart.
**
From: Reggie: Is that him? In the picture?
To: Reggie: yes, that’s remus
To: Reggie: why?
From: Reggie: Would it sound crazy if I said I wanted to meet him someday?
**
Leaving Rhyl is bittersweet. Sirius can tell Remus feels torn, that he wishes to spend more time with his parents after not seeing them in such a long time. And at the same time, there’s an understanding between them that the weekend has been a lot, with Sirius meeting Hope and Lyall for the first time and being out in the open in a way he hasn’t been in months. Sirius is so grateful that Remus understands this without him having to say a single word.
But it’s not just Remus that’s torn; in the short time he’s spent with them, Sirius has fallen in love with the dynamics in the Lupin household and the energy around Lyall and Hope, the welcoming air he has been able to feel from the second the front door opened on Friday. It’s sad to leave all this behind, even though there are good things waiting back in Whitehaven, even though Sirius is already planning to make sure that Remus doesn’t have to go that long without seeing his parents again. And at the same time, Sirius is almost certain he can feel something else radiating from Remus as they’re carrying their things to the car; something almost like relief.
As promised, Hope has filled up an entire cooler with pies and casseroles. She makes sure they know that there are two sandwiches for the road when Sirius loads the car, and they have to promise her to stop and eat them before they get too hungry to drive. He closes the backseat door and leans against it, watching as Hope fusses over Remus, holding his arm and telling him to call often and send pictures and all sorts of other motherly things that make Sirius smile.
“Oh, I’m so glad you have someone else to look after you, now. I won’t worry as much.” She turns to look at Sirius, keeping Remus’s arm in a vice. “Make sure he takes his medication, will you? And eats. He sometimes forgets to do that when he has an episode.”
Sirius can see Remus is getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Angry, even. So, all he does is smile pleasantly at Hope and say, “He’s a headstrong guy, your son. And he has his routines pretty much down. But yes, of course I’ll help however I can.”
She seems satisfied with this, nodding, and gives them both second hugs and kisses on cheeks before letting them climb into the car. Lyall waves at them from the porch as they start the car and roll down the driveway, and Remus waves back until they turn and the house is no longer on sight.
Remus doesn’t say much until they’re well outside of Rhyl, and then he sighs (Sirius can’t tell if it’s more to calm himself down or to release tension) and rubs his face rather violently.
“I sometimes wish she would just leave things be.” Sirius has a feeling he knows where this is going and doesn’t say anything during the brief pause. “I know she means well, but if I don’t tell her something then I probably won’t want to answer even if she asks me about it. And she always asks about my leg, even though she has seen all weekend that I’m perfectly fine, and it frustrates me and I just – I don’t know, I want to pull my hair out.”
“Now, don’t do that.” Sirius keeps his eyes on the road when he takes off one of his rings and hands it over to Remus. “Here, play with this. It’s an anxiety ring, it helps me when I have excessive energy and need something to do with my hands.”
The energy coming off of Remus is strange, but not really unexpected. Remus is a proud man; that is one of the first things Sirius has had to learn about him the hard way. He can tell that Hope fussing about his well being and roping Sirius to do the same is not something Remus is taking very well. He’s reminded of the day Remus had his last flare out, the fall, the argument. Sirius feels like he’s learned a lot about Remus since that day, and as arrogant it is to think that he could know Remus better than Hope and Lyall do, he thinks that in regard to this, he really might.
Clearly Sirius is not the only one who thinks the weekend has been kind of a lot. Sirius is only now realising that Remus didn’t move so far away from home just to run from his ghosts – he needed to put some distance between himself and his parents, too.
After a while, Remus takes another deep breath. Sirius can see in the corner of his eye that he’s turning the ring in his hand, not really knowing what to do with it. “I’m sorry”, he says, almost a sigh. Sirius takes his eyes off the road for half a second to see that Remus has his eyes closed, his head tilted back. “I shouldn’t complain like that, not to you. It’s not fair.”
Remus deserves a real answer, so Sirius doesn’t say the first thing that pops into his head – that Remus apologises too much and that he shouldn’t worry about it. Saying that wouldn’t help anyone, and it could just lead into more conflict. That’s what Sirius wants to avoid. Remus is always so great when Sirius is having a breakdown (and he feels like he’s had a lot of those in a relatively short time), and now it’s time for Sirius to return the favour.
“I don’t want you to pretend like you don’t have frustrations about your parents around me just because I had crappy parents growing up.” Sirius takes a few deep breaths and chooses a smaller road than the one they took on Friday; he has a feeling they might need a breather. “Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. And I know better than anyone that you can have complicated feelings about family.” Remus doesn’t say anything, and Sirius can feel his own anxiety starting to grow with the silence and the fact that he can’t look at Remus’s face while driving. “Please, talk to me.”
The shaky intake of breath takes Sirius a little off guard. Remus is not a crier – or at least Sirius is yet to see him really cry. He chances a look to his left and sees that Remus is covering his eyes with one hand, the lower part of his face still visible but showing a range of emotion that Sirius can’t start dissecting like this. He reaches out a hand, going for a grounding touch, and is grateful when Remus braids their fingers together and rests them on his thigh.
“Do you want me to pull over?” Sirius asks, already scanning the side of the road and knowing he’s going to pull over the first chance he gets, no matter how Remus answers.
Remus takes another breath and squeezes Sirius’ hand. “No. No, I’m alright.” He doesn’t sound very convincing. Sirius feels helpless. It’s stupid bad luck that this should happen when he’s not able to give Remus one hundred per cent of his attention. “I’m sorry for being a mess over caring parents.”
Sirius holds his hand tightly as he carefully manoeuvres the car to the next lookout, one that looks a lot like the one they ate lunch on their drive down. Once he’s properly put the car on park and shut the engine off, he takes off his seat belt and turns to look at Remus. There definitely are tears on Remus’s cheeks, but it’s hard to tell if he’s really crying or if those are just falling out of frustration. (Selfishly, Sirius hopes that Remus isn’t having a big crying moment. He would like to be there for Remus when that happens, but he would also like it to happen at home, not on the side of the road so far away from either of their comfort zones.)
All there is to do is wait, then. Sirius is not patient by nature, but he’s been learning, and it’s easier to be patient when it’s for someone else and not for himself. (Sirius knows what a therapist would say about that and pushes the thought away as soon as it appears.) He holds Remus’s hand, and once Remus lets his other hand drop from his eyes, he brushes off the few tears still lingering there in the corners.
"I just get frustrated when she won’t stop about the meds and the eating even after I have told her countless times that I’m on top of it. I have been taking care of myself for years now, I’m turning thirty this year. I know it’s great that I have a mother who cares so much about my well being, but I...” Despite his words, Remus looks grateful when he accepts the water bottle that Sirius offers him in the middle of his little monologue. “I know how to take care of myself. I know what works for the pain, and the numbness, and I know how to make myself eat enough even when I really would rather not.”
Sirius can understand all of this – really, he can. Just because he doesn’t personally have parents like that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know it can be overwhelming and, well, frustrating. Sirius has heard many rants from James, who loves his parents probably more than the average guy but still sometimes wishes they wouldn’t poke their nose into his business quite as much as they tend to do.
“It’s okay to feel all those things”, he says, brushing Remus’s hair out of his eyes. He has such beautiful eyes. “I know you know that. And I need you to know that it’s okay to feel those things around me, too. You don’t have to hide anything from me.”
Remus sighs, then brings their hands up to his lips to kiss Sirius’ knuckles. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Mm, no need to be sorry, either.” Sirius pauses, wondering if this is the right place to say what he wants, and then decides to go for it anyway, for the sake of honesty. “I do get where she’s coming from, though, and I know you do, too. From my limited experience with parents, I gather it’s pretty much they do; worry about their kids. And some parents have more reason to worry than others.” Remus looks like he wants to say something, but Sirius continues before he can. “I’m not saying they really need to worry about you. Of course they don’t. All I mean is that they care about you a lot, and they can’t know what’s going on in your head the way you do, and so they worry.” When their eyes meet, Sirius gives a sheepish smile. “It’s the same reason I sometimes worry, too. Even though I have no reason to.”
Remus looks at him for a long moment, his lips doing that funny thing they do when he’s mulling over something he doesn’t want to say. Sirius loves looking at him, wondering about his thoughts. They rarely go the way he thinks they will.
“You’re saying I should just let them fuss.”
Sirius shrugs. “It’s a rather small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.”
Remus takes in a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then looks out the car window towards the sea and lets the air out slowly. “You’re right, I guess. You’re always right.” He gives Sirius’ hand another squeeze and turns his eyes back towards him. There’s no heaviness in them anymore. “How are you always right, hm?”
The bark of laugh that’s startled out of Sirius’ mouth is loud enough to make them both jump a bit. “No, not always, my love. Did James ever tell you about the time I was sure the principal of our school was crushing on the English professor and I set them up on a blind date only to realise the principal was gay and actually had the hots for the groundskeeper?”
It’s an exaggeration, for sure, and the story isn’t even entirely true, but it does the job: Remus joins Sirius’ laughter and throws his head back, the rest of the lingering tension leaving his body. “No, he did not tell me.”
“Well, then. It’s actually a really good story for a road trip.” Sirius relaxes in his seat himself, smiling as he looks at Remus. “Are we good?”
Remus, in his infinite wisdom, leans in to give Sirius a light kiss before leaning back and returning the smile. “We’re good. Let’s go home.”
**
From: Prongs: I know you’re probably driving, but I just wanted to let you know that it’s show time
From: Prongs: Harry is with the Longbottoms, I’m at the hospital with Lils
To: Prongs: Hi, it’s Remus, Sirius is driving. This is exciting! How is Lily?
From: Prongs: She’s a superstar, what else is new. Things are strangely calm right now, but I’ve been told this shouldn’t take that long, given that it’s not her first rodeo
To: Prongs: Give her our love. We’ll be there in a few hours
Chapter 16: January, part III
Summary:
Big feelings for a Sunday night - and whispered confessions, from one big brother to another.
Notes:
it's been a while, hasn't it?
i cut this chapter down, because while i love spoiling you with long chapters, there's a line. and this way you got a new chapter a little sooner.
i'm also a little worried about my pacing, so i'm raising the chapter count again. i'm sorry about that! but i PROMISE we're getting somewhere with this! please be patient!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius can feel excitement building the closer they get to Whitehaven. He keeps talking a mile a minute, telling Remus about the day that Harry was born from his point of view. He remembers every detail, how nervously excited he felt, how James was a total wreck, how Lily didn’t want anyone in the room with her but asked for her mom halfway through. (How Mrs. Evans couldn’t get there soon enough, because it was Lily’s sister Petunia who answered the phone and didn’t bother delivering the message until hours later.)
“I only got really scared when James asked me if I wanted to hold Harry. I mean, of course I said yes, but I’d never even held a baby before”, Sirius says and laughs at his past self. “He was so tiny, all black hair and wiggles. Would barely stay still when asleep. He’s a lot like James in that.”
Remus chuckles. “So, it’s definitely not just the looks.”
“It’s so not just the looks” Sirius promises him. “James’ restless genes run deep. I’m willing to bet good money that your goddaughter is going to be just as energetic as those two; we’re going to have a hard time keeping up.”
“Me more than you, I’d think.” Remus plays with Sirius’ fingers; he’s been doing that for the past hour, since their lunch break. Sirius feels a little twitch, now, almost like Remus wants to pull him closer but can’t while they’re still driving. “I think I want to go to the hospital straight away”, Remus says, a highly nervous sort of excitement in his voice that echoes in Sirius’ gut.
“Agreed.” He brings Remus’s hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the knuckles. “We’ve waited long enough to meet her already.”
They drive the rest of the way in mostly silence, and the only stop they make is in a larger grocery store just outside of Whitehaven, when Remus realises he doesn’t have anything to bring his new goddaughter; he has knitted a romper, but it’s still at the cottage, and it still needs buttons. Sirius tries to reason with him, to explain that the baby isn’t exactly expecting gifts, but Remus insists. It’s the custom, he says, and Sirius knows him well enough to stop arguing. And so they go to the store, and they buy the baby a small stuffed dog, similar to the one Sirius bought for Harry four years ago, and dark chocolate and a silly little card for Lily. James, they reason, will not be wanting for anything, and can wait to get his gifts later.
Once they get to the maternity wing of the hospital, they ex James and are then directed to the waiting room by hospital staff, but they have barely had the time to sit down when James comes looking for them. James, predictably, is red in the face, tears still streaming down his cheek, and he has clearly been at it for a while now. But the smile on his face is blindingly bright, and Sirius can’t help but smile back, practically vibrating out of his skin already.
“Hi lads”, James says, breathless and beaming, “are you ready to meet Sara?”
Sirius isn’t one to predict baby names, and so he hasn’t spent much time trying to figure out how James and Lily might name their second child, but as soon as he hears the name it feels right. Sara Potter. It has a nice ring to it. It fits.
Remus holds his hand tightly as they walk through the corridors, following just two steps behind James. It’s not a long walk but it feels like an eternity, and the hallways all look exactly the same to Sirius – he knows he won’t be able to tell which way they came from after one more turn. But then all of a sudden, just as Sirius is getting frustrated by the endless turns and blank walls, they arrive to a private room, where the lights are low and the rest of the world is lifetimes away.
James walks in before them, and Sirius pushes Remus in next; Sirius remembers the day Harry was born, how special it was to know that he’s the first person to hold him after the doctors and parents. He wants Remus to have that same feeling. And seeing James gently place that tiny little human into Remus’s arms? It’s everything. Sara is way less wiggly than Harry was, Sirius notices. He wonders how different the two kids may end up being, once they’ve grown up. After all, he thinks as he hugs James as tight as he can, he and Regulus grew up to be quite different people, themselves.
“Hi, baby”, Sirius hears Remus whisper. He knows from the look on his face that tears are not far, and he himself is feeling quite emotional. “Hi, Sara. I’m your Uncle Moony.” Remus sniffs, and Sirius hugs James just that little bit harder. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
After another squeeze, Sirius detangles himself from James and turns to Lily. She looks tired – she has every right to – but happy. Relieved. Sirius steps up to her bed and presses a kiss to her forehead, pushing her hair away from her face. Lily is the closest thing Sirius has ever had to a sister, and in this moment he feels a kind of love and affection towards her that he hasn’t quite felt before.
“Congratulations, Lily”, he whispers, and Lily tangles their hands together. “You absolute goddess of a woman.” He sniffs a little and gives her another quick kiss. “I’m so happy for you.”
Sirius wouldn’t know for sure, but he imagines how scared she must have been. Sure, Sara is not her first baby, and everything with Harry went smoothly, but then there was the miscarriage. Sirius knows how freaked out he himself has been from time to time, just thinking about the whole thing; what he’s feeling must be nothing compared to what Lily has been feeling in the past nine months, might still be feeling. There must be that little bit of grief that comes with everything, given all that Lily and James have been through.
And yet, all Sirius can see in her is a mixture of happiness and relief and peace as she pulls him to sit on the edge of her hospital cot. “She’s all kinds of perfect, isn’t she?”
“She’s so small”, Remus says with wonder in his voice and stars in his eyes. “I have never seen anyone so tiny before.”
Sirius looks at him from where he’s now perched on Lily’s bed, hugging her and stroking her hair. Remus looks so happy, and he looks so good with a baby. He looks like he belongs there, with Lily and James and Sirius and little baby Sara, and Sirius loves him so much. He’s never thought of having children of his own, and he’s not that convinced he wants them even now, but if he ever did, he’d want them with Remus. There’s no question about that.
And one other thing becomes clear to him, too, as he sits there in the happy little baby bubble, watching his family, the pieces of his heart. It enters his mind and settles into his heart, squeezing tightly in that way that makes his eyes water a bit.
“You know what, Evans”, he mutters close to Lily’s ear, drawing patterns into her upper arm and never taking his eyes off of Remus. “I know this day is all about you, but one day, I am so going to marry that man.”
Lily just huffs out a little laugh and leans into him more. “I know. I bet everyone in this room knows, him included.” They stare at their guys there, standing with the smallest baby each of them has ever seen, and Sirius feels love all around him. It feels corny, when he puts it like that, but there’s no other way for him to describe it. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so glad the two of you hit it off. I knew you would, of course, but it’s nice to be proven right.”
The realisation is enough to startle a small laugh out of Sirius. “Did you play matchmaker for us?” he asks, knowing it to be true as soon as the words get out. It somehow exactly what he would expect from Lily.
She just laughs. “Didn’t take much, did it?”
No, Sirius thinks, looking at Remus. It didn’t take much at all. He can feel his heart pulling towards Remus’s heart, like there’s a line connecting them. Was it there before, when he didn’t even know Remus existed? Was the line there all along, pulling him towards the right people and right places, until Remus finally found him? Sirius has been thinking about it a lot.
The more he thinks, the more he believes.
Remus looks up from Sara, just for a second, and his eyes find Sirius’ immediately. He looks happy. Teary eyed, sure, and a little worn out from the trip and the travel and the stress, but so very happy. The smile on his lips is a thing of beauty, one that Sirius wants to capture and treasure in his heart but also share for all the world to see.
“You know what”, Sirius mumbles once Remus turns his attention back to Sara, James snapping pictures left and right. (Sirius makes a mental note to ask for all of them. He wonders if he should start a physical album like the ones Hope has.) He presses his lips to Lily’s hairline and smiles. “I’m not even mad about it.”
**
In the end, they don’t stay for long – Lily is understandably exhausted, and visiting hours will be over in a little bit, anyway. Sirius kisses all three Potters goodbye, then takes Remus’s hand as they get in the car to retrieve the fourth.
Harry is a nervous ball of energy, just like Sirius has assumed he would be. Frank Longbottom tells Sirius they have had a real job keeping up with him all day, but none of them can stop smiling as Remus straps Harry into the borrowed car seat. Sirius tries to apologise for Harry making Neville just as hyper as he is, but Alice waves him off with a grin.
“It was great, actually. He’s never been around for a full day before”, she says, looking back to where Neville is passed out against Frank’s shoulder. “Maybe today will convince both of us that we could handle a second one, after all.” Alice has a slight blush on her cheeks, and she bites her lower lip. “Neither of us had any siblings growing up. It would be nice if Neville didn’t have to grow up like that.”
She talks to Sirius like they’re friends. They’ve met a few times since Mary’s Christmas party, but Sirius hasn’t realised that’s what they are now. He likes her – likes them both. Alice is bubbly and clever and kind, a lot like Lily, and while Frank is quieter at first, he warms up to people quickly, and there’s a warmth in him that’s a fun contrast to his dry humour. They’re both people Sirius would very much like to call friends. Maybe he can. It’s kind of a very exciting thought, and Sirius wonders how many friends he already has in Whitehaven, there without him even noticing it.
The drive from the Longbottoms back to the Potter house isn’t that long, but Harry still manages to ask them more questions about his new little sister than Sirius and Remus have answers to. Not that Harry really needs the answers – he seems happy enough to just babble and let the questions out, trusting that the answers will find him eventually. It’s a faith only a child Harry’s age can have, Sirius thinks, and even then, only someone who has learned time and time again that his questions will get answered, no matter how silly or childish they seem. It’s yet another difference in the way Sirius grew up, and he quickly shakes the dread off his shoulders.
It’s a happy day. He shouldn’t think about his trauma today.
Just as James promised them as they were leaving the hospital, there’s veggie lasagna in the fridge waiting for them, ready to be put in the oven. Sirius wonders how James can possibly have the time and energy to think of every little thing in advance, to make sure his family’s days run smoothly. There’s a certain finesse to it, Sirius thinks as he takes out a cucumber and few tomatoes, planning on chopping them up to eat as a side dish. But then again, James was always the homemaker in this house. Maybe it’s not so mind boggling, after all.
Remus comes up to hug Sirius from behind, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “Harry is sufficiently distracted by his rock collection for a hot second, so I thought I’d check on you”, he says, and Sirius laughs. “I was thinking of dropping off the cooler at home and feed the chicken before dinner. I might take Harry with me, try to wear him out. Do you want to join us?”
“Always”, Sirius says immediately, sets the knife down and turns around in Remus’s arms. “I always want to go with you. But I was wondering if maybe I should do some food prep for when James and Lily bring Sara home tomorrow, help them out a little bit. It’ll be slightly easier to do that without Harry here, I’m afraid.”
“Fair enough.” Remus smiles at him, his eyes shining and wrinkling in the corners. It looks like he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling even if he wanted to. “Do you need me to bring anything from home?”
Home. Sirius loves how Remus says that, like it’s not just his home but Sirius’, too. Just for that, Sirius leans up and kisses him; quick but thorough, lingering but careful not to lose track of the conversation. (It’s not as easy as it should be. Sirius could so very easily lose himself into kissing Remus.) “Could you bring my guitar? I – I've got a half finished song stuck in my head, I might be able to get it out after Harry’s asleep.”
An excited gleam flashes in Remus’s eyes at that. “I’ll bring it”, he promises. His fingertips press into Sirius’ lower back, pulling him closer or just feeling him, either way is okay with Sirius. “Will you play for me tonight?” he asks in another kiss. “I love watching you create.”
That is a feeling that’s very much mutual. Sirius loves watching Remus at his desk, reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on the words on his computer screen. It doesn’t matter whether he’s grading his students’ papers or writing his own stuff, Sirius is enchanted by the view every time; the way his gaze flickers across the lines, how his fingers fly on the keyboard, the occasional twitch on the corner of his mouth when he reads or thinks of something clever. He’s very expressive, his Remus. Sirius could watch him work for hours.
And, apparently, Remus likes watching Sirius work, too. It’s not that surprising, when Sirius thinks about it, but it does make him blush a bit. He loves having Remus’s attention on him, on his craft, on whatever he does. It feels so different from the public’s attention on him, on every little thing he does – those are vultures, paying attention to all the wrong things and having opinions on things that are no one’s business but his own.
“I’ll play anything you want”, Sirius promises, and Remus gives him another dazzling smile before kissing him quickly on the cheek and leaving the kitchen, probably to share the plan with Harry.
Sirius is not a chef, but he knows his way around the kitchen well enough to not starve – Fleamont has made sure of that. He goes through the cabinets one by one, seeing that James is taking after their dad even better and keeps his kitchen very well stocked. There are enough ingredients to feed the entire household for at least two weeks, and with a small list of perishables even Sirius would be able to think of recipes for a good month. He decides to stick with the basics, a chicken casserole and a variant of vegetable korma that he doesn’t have to think too much about while he waits for the lasagna to heat up.
As he’s sorting out the ingredients on the counters, Sirius hears fast little footsteps first running down the stairs and then heading to the kitchen, and he already has a smile on his face when he turns to look at Harry.
“We’re going to feed the chickies, Uncle Paddy!” Harry grins, jumping up and down. Sirius thinks it’s incredible how this can excite Harry this much week after week. He wishes adults were as able to find joy in life as four year old boys are.
“That’s a good idea, Harry. Say hi to Daisy for me, alright?”
Harry nods, his eyes squinting as he looks up at Sirius. “I’m going to say hi to all of them!”
Remus follows Harry into the kitchen, telling him to go pull out his outdoor clothes in the mud room. Harry doesn’t comply, hanging onto Remus’s arm instead, and Remus has no other choice but to pull him with him when he steps up to Sirius again.
“We’ll be back in an hour”, he says, leaning in to give Sirius a kiss while touching his face with his free hand
Sirius smiles. “I’ll have dinner ready.”
“Look at us, in domestic bliss.”
“Honey, all we ever do is domestic bliss.”
At that, Remus grins, then gives Sirius one more quick kiss despite Harry’s loud protests, then turns and leaves.
From the kitchen, Sirius can hear the conversation between Remus and Harry as Remus tries to wrangle the child into outdoor clothes with varying success. He tries not to listen, as he thinks it’s important to give a child privacy with his thoughts as much as possible, but once Sirius hears Harry mention him, he can’t really help himself.
“Why do you kiss Uncle Paddy so much? Is it because you’re in love?”
When Remus answers, Sirius can hear the amusement in his voice. He can almost see the smile. “Yes. And I like to be close to him. Like you want to be close to your family, right?”
“And like Mommy and Daddy like being close?”
“Exactly.”
There’s a pause. Sirius smiles as he peels a carrot, thinking of all the ways he wants to be close to Remus right now, and all the ways he feels close to him no matter how far apart they actually are. He’s halfway into his daydreams when Harry speaks again.
“Are you going to have babies, too?”
Remus coughs. Sirius doesn’t know what to make of that. “I’m not sure, honey. We already have you and Sara, and you’re keeping us plenty busy.”
Harry says something more, but they’re already halfway out the door at this point and Sirius can’t hear him. Sirius looks up out the kitchen window and sees the pair of them on the road, Harry skipping away around Remus while Remus walks at a much steadier pace. The wind picks up, throwing Remus’s scarf around, and Sirius’ hands itch to tuck it better into the collar of his coat – and then they’re gone, out of Sirius’ sight, and he lets his shoulders drop dramatically as he turns back to his vegetables.
**
Getting Harry to settle into bed turns out to be a little bit more difficult than it usually is. On a regular night, Harry is excited for bed time, because bed time means a story, and bed time with Sirius means a story with Sirius making all the voices and singing him a song afterwards. Sirius doesn’t know what bed time with Remus means, but he knows Harry loves those, too, so he’s super excited to have both of his uncles around tonight.
However, the additional excitement of a new family member makes Harry run around after dinner even after the extra field trip to the chicken coop, splash almost all the water out of the bath tub, and wiggle his way out of the sleep pants three times before Sirius puts his foot down.
“Harry, you need to go to bed now”, he says, stricter than he would like, but never raising his voice. Never that. “We all need to get to bed and sleep, so that morning will come faster, and we can go see Sara, okay?”
Sirius doesn’t know what finally clicks; maybe it’s the mention of Sara, or the fact that Sirius has always been the “fun uncle” and hasn’t had the need to use that kind of tone with Harry before. Whatever it is, it makes Harry stop his eleventh run around his room and look at Sirius with wide eyes. Then, just as Sirius is starting to get worried that he went a step too far, Harry goes and puts on his sleep pants without another word, then climbs into his bunk bed.
(He doesn’t sleep in the top bunk. He tries, every once in a while, but gets scared every time and climbs down. Lily and James keep both of the beds made, just in case. Sirius thinks they might be the best parents a little boy like Harry could ever even dream of.)
Harry requests a story read by Remus, and Sirius sits down on the floor by his bed to listen in – he will never pass on an opportunity to just listen to Remus talk. It’s a story about a family of bears that Sirius himself has read for Harry many times, but somehow Remus makes it different. Better. Harry hangs onto every single word, listening intently like the story’s brand new, and Sirius can see it so clearly, how one day soon Harry will try to tell it on his own to Sara, just like Sirius used to tell stories to Regulus. It’s what big brothers do, he thinks, leaning his head on the edge of the mattress and closing his eyes.
Once the story ends and Remus closes the book, Harry has his eyes closed and he’s breathing soundly – Sirius almost believes him to be fast asleep. Sirius gets up from the floor (not quite as easily as he would have once upon a time, his back protesting quite loudly when he straightens up) and leans down to press a kiss to Harry’s head and is ready to follow Remus through the door when Harry’s small voice stops him in his tracks.
“Uncle Paddy?”
Sirius turns. Harry’s face is a tiny little circle between his dinosaur sheets, but Sirius can tell he’s biting his lip. “Yeah, kiddo?”
Harry burrows deeper into his bed, like he’s ashamed – no, like he’s scared of the answer to his question even before he can ask it. “What if Sara doesn’t like me?”
It’s an irrational fear, but one Sirius can relate to – and it breaks his heart to hear Harry utter the words. He suddenly wishes Euphemia was there to help, to reassure, to hold his hand as he tries his hardest to convince this little boy he has nothing to be afraid of when it comes to his family.
“Now, why wouldn’t she like you, sprog?” Sirius works to keep his voice stable, then crouches back down next to Harry’s bed, right by his head, and strokes his unruly hair put of his eyes. “Hm? You’re smart and funny, and you have so much to teach her, right?”
Remus sits down, too, right where he just stood up from, taking Harry’s little hand in his and squeezing. “And you know the best part? You’re going to be her best friend from day one. Isn’t that amazing?”
Remus’s words hit home, for Harry as well as for Sirius. There’s no way Sirius can avoid thinking about Regulus, not with a parallel like this.
Sirius is only two years older than Regulus is, but he can still remember the day his parents brought Regulus home. It’s his first memory, and it’s fuzzy and only a flash, but it’s there. He was not allowed in the hospital, and he doubts now anyone would have bothered to ask, anyway. But he does remember climbing on a stool in a dim, quiet room, reaching up and then looking down at the little bundle that was his brother, and feeling giddy and excited in a way he rarely did as a kid. He can’t recall any specifics, not the time of day or if there was someone else in the room with him, but this much he remembers, and even when things between them hit rock bottom, his memory still had a very special place in Sirius’ heart.
Like he can hear Sirius’ thoughts, Harry turns to look at him then, eyes curious and twinkling again, all races of anxiety gone. “Did your little brother like you when he was really little?”
“Yeah.” Sirius swallows around a lump in his throat when he pets Harry’s hair. “Yeah, he was my very best friend.”
Harry settles down after that, and he really is more asleep than not by the time Sirius steps out of his room and leaves the door cracked open just a little. Remus gives him a look that tells Sirius that he’s acting off, but all he can do right now is lean into a hug and hide the lower half of his face into Remus’s shoulder for a good long while. He breathes in Remus’s scent; it grounds him, makes his skin less itchy, but does not get rid of the bad feeling entirely.
With one more deep breath, Sirius pulls back. He doesn’t look up at Remus’s face; he’s not sure he’d be able to stick to his tentative plans if he did. “Hey, um. I think I’m going to call Regulus? It won’t take long, I promise.”
Remus doesn’t say anything at first, and Sirius can feel his eyes on his face, like feathers or the wind, tickling on his cheek bones. He wonders what Remus sees when he looks at him, if he can tell what’s going through his mind as easily as Sirius thinks he can.
In the end, Remus just nods – Sirius can see the movement without raising his eyes from the upstairs hallway carpet. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be downstairs in the living room.”
It takes a long while for Regulus to pick up the phone – long enough for Sirius to walk into the guest room and work himself into half a panic attack – and when he finally does, there’s enough noise coming out of the speaker to make Sirius jump. There’s a loud beat, and people cheering, and something else that sounds like glass, but Sirius can’t be sure. It sounds like the parties Sirius used to frequent before his tour, the ones where he went to forget and to feel something, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what they sound like.
He can’t believe he used to thrive in those environments.
“Sirius?” Regulus says, a little too loudly, the way people do when they’re already in loud spaces. “Is everything alright?”
It’s not that late, not really. It took them a while to get Harry to bed, but it’s still not nine o’clock yet. But maybe Sirius calling Regulus at night is alarming enough that the question is warranted. “Hi, Reggie.” Sirius swallows and takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “You – do you know that it was never really about you?”
“What wasn’t about me?”
“Me leaving. It wasn’t because of you.” Sirius furiously wipes at his cheeks, getting rid of the tears before they drip down his chin. “I might have made it seem like it but – but it wasn’t you. It was them; it was always them, never you.”
The voices on the other end of the call warp a bit, the music getting further away and the shouting and talking getting louder. It’s like Regulus is moving through the crowd, and where ever he is, there are so many people that it’s impossible to make out any specific conversation through the phone.
“Well. I know that.” Regulus sounds off. Does he sound off? Sirius can’t be sure. But the words make it easier to take a deep breath and release the tension in his shoulders. (Not all of it goes away.) “It took me a while, and a few years of therapy once I realised how messed up I actually was, but. Yes. I know you didn’t leave because of me.”
Sirius takes another deep breath and sits down on the bed. “Okay.” A few new tears make their way down his cheeks, and he wipes them away, too. “Okay, good. That’s good.”
It doesn’t fix everything. Sirius isn’t that sure that it fixes anything, really. But it does help him to know that Regulus knows he didn’t run away from home because of anything that Regulus said or did. Well, not really – some words were said, and they were definitely a catalyst, but Sirius himself has been to therapy enough to know that Regulus is not to blame for any of it. They were raised by two people remarkably unsuited for parenthood, and that shows in a child’s upbringing in different ways. For Sirius, it was his rebellion; for Regulus, the growing resentment towards Sirius, encouraged by their mother.
Sirius wonders if the two of them will ever be really fixed. If there’s any kind of future where they can have a normal sibling relationship. What’s that even like? Sirius isn’t sure he’s ever witnessed a normal sibling relationship in his life – most of his friends are only children, and Gid has a brother, but twins are different, right?
“What’s going on, Sirius?” Regulus’ voice isn’t as cold as Sirius is used to. There’s real concern. Maybe there’s hope for them? “Are you okay?”
“I’m - I’m alright. It’s just...” Now that he thinks about it, the whole thing seems quite ridiculous to him. He lets out a small laugh, but it sounds humourless and wet to his own ears. “I just had to convince my four year old godson that his newborn baby sister isn’t going to hate him, and I guess it just struck a nerve or something.”
There’s a small pause. “Right.” Sirius doesn’t know what that means, and he doesn’t know what to say to that, either. “Harry’s four already?”
Sirius can’t remember if he’s ever talked about Harry with Regulus. Probably not. It’s a little startling to learn that Regulus knows about Harry, about Sirius being his godfather – and then again, it’s not. After all, Regulus knew to contact James through the private Instagram account. Who knows what else Regulus knows. “Yeah, I can’t believe it, either. Time flies.”
“It does.” There’s a wistfulness to Regulus’ voice that Sirius can’t read. “And Potter’s got another kid? I suppose that was to be expected.”
It’s a strange thing to say, and Sirius doesn’t know what to make of it, either, but he doesn’t have to; just then there’s an explosion of noise down the line, loud enough that Sirius pulls the phone away from his ear a bit. It sounds like people cheering and laughing – and singing, now.
“Where are you, anyway?” Sirius asks, once the noise dies down a bit and he thinks Regulus might be able to hear him again. “Are you at a club?” He’s never thought Regulus to be the type to go to a club on a Sunday night, but then again, does he really know what Regulus does with his time, anyway?
“No. It’s a bachelor party.”
“Oh.” Sirius picks on the duvet cover with his left hand. “Yours?”
“Oh God, no.” As if the mere thought is laughable. As if Sirius should know better – like anyone who actually knows Regulus would know better. That stings a bit. “It’s for a friend. Well, two friends. They’re getting married in two weeks. They’re having a joined bachelor party; it’s lasted for the whole weekend. I doubt either of them is going to be going to the office tomorrow morning.”
It gets difficult to continue the conversation after that – partly because Sirius doesn’t have anything he wants to say over the phone like this, partly because the noise picks up again and it’s clear that Regulus needs to join the party. They say their goodbyes, and afterwards Sirius stares at the screen of his phone until it turns itself off. He stares and stares, until he can hear a teapot whistle downstairs in the kitchen, and his lips curve into a smile on their own accord.
Remus is, like he said, in the living room; curled up on the couch under Lily’s favourite blanket, finishing the last fifty pages of the book he took with him on their trip to Rhyl. There are two cups of steaming tea on the coffee table, brewed to each of their preferences.
“Hi”, Remus looks up from his book when Sirius appears in the doorway. He smiles and gestures to the tea. “I took a gamble. You tend to have excellent timing.”
Sirius returns the smile, and then his eyes land on his guitar case, pushed away by the large windows out or Harry’s way while he was running around earlier. He feels a little conflicted; on the one hand, he’s exhausted, and all he really wants is to curl up on the couch next to Remus, maybe listen to Remus read to him a bit. On the other hand, Sirius still feels an itch under his skin, the words and melodies stuck in his head, and he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight until he gets them out.
The itch wins out, in the end. Sirius crosses the room, stopping by the couch to drop a kiss on Remus’s head as a silent thank you, then picks up the case and brings it to the arm chair. He spends a while just strumming aimlessly, first tuning and then sounding out different chords, runs down a few melodies. Remus still has the book in his hands, but Sirius can tell that he’s not really reading it anymore. Testing the theory, Sirius sounds out a tune, picking on the strings softly to create the melody of one of the first songs he wrote about Remus, one he played him just last week. The happy grin Remus shoots his way now is proof enough that Sirius really does have Remus’s full attention.
When Sirius takes a sip of his tea (brewed to perfection, which is nothing less than what he expects from Remus) and sets his phone to record on the coffee table in front of him, he can tell that Remus is trying to not show him how excited he is. Remus is looking down at his book again, but his eyes are unfocused. Sirius plays a few chords, trying to find the right key, and once he finds it, he plays the melody that has been brewing in his head for four years now.
He feels a little self-conscious about singing unfinished songs in front of Remus, still. He doesn’t feel like that around James or around his team, but Remus makes him nervous. Remus, Sirius has learned, knows his lyrics almost as well as he himself does, has analysed them over and over again with the sharp eyes of an English professor, is a fan. And on top of all of that, Remus also knows his heart and knows better than most where the emotion in his songs comes from. Sirius feels exposed when he sings like this, and even though he feels safe and secure, even cherished, he still works hard to keep his guard down. He knows he doesn’t need it with Remus.
The song is mostly formed in his head, so Sirius only stumbles over a few parts while he plays. He likes the song; it’s soft and light in a way a lot of his songs have been lately, but there’s a nursery rhyme quality to it, too, that makes him smile involuntarily at a few parts. He thinks back to Harry as a small baby, just a little older than Sara, and the feeling in his chest when he got to see Harry smile for the first time. He wonders if Sara’s smile will be anything like that.
Unprompted, a picture of Regulus comes to his mind; six years old, front teeth missing, grinning like the happiest little kid in the world. Sirius messes up he melody and has to shake his head a bit before continuing.
Once Sirius deems the recording good enough to give Marlene and Benjy some idea of what he’s going for, he puts his phone away and lowers the guitar back into the case. He gets up and kneels over Remus on the couch, gently pulling the forgotten book from his hands – Remus has gotten to the last page.
“I know I promised you any song you want tonight”, Sirius says, setting the book down on the couch beside them and then taking Remus’s face between his hands. (He likes doing that. It feels like he’s holding the whole world in his hands – or at the very least the most important parts.) “But honestly, I’m really not in the mood for that. I’m sorry”
Remus smiles at him, and just like that, he already feels a whole lot better. “That’s alright. It’s been a long day.”
“It has.” Sirius hums as he drops a kiss on Remus’s lips and then relaxes against his chest, pressing his forehead to his neck. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” It’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that just this morning he was still in Rhyl and had breakfast with Remus’s parents. So much has been happening in the past twelve hours alone, and Sirius feels raw with the emotions. “It’s still early, but I really just want to go to bed.”
They sit there for a moment longer, just long enough for both of them to finish their tea. Getting ready for bed is a routine Sirius is only now realising really is a routine, the way both of their habits slot together seamlessly. Remus tends to hum around his toothbrush – terribly off key and charming, and Sirius isn’t even sure he’s aware he’s doing it – while Sirius does his skin care like a ritual. Everything about the moment is like a domestic scene from a rom com.
While brushing his hair, Sirius tells Remus about the phone call with Regulus, as well as the few texts they shared the day before. He mostly just babbles, needing to say it all out loud to sort his thoughts, and Remus is a great listener, humming and nodding in all the right places and asking a few questions to clear something up. Remus still doesn’t know every little detail of his history with Regulus, but he knows enough, and Sirius thinks that the rest is easy to read between the lines – the parts that he himself understands, anyway. There is still so much he doesn’t get, and he’s getting frustrated having too many question and too few answers.
“He says he wants to meet you”, Sirius mumbles into Remus’s chest once they’re under the covers, sheets pulled up to their chins and legs tangled together.
There’s a pause before Remus responds, his voice a little incredulous. “Who – Regulus?”
“Mm. Someday.” Sirius plays with the hem of Remus’s sleep shirt, thinking about Regulus and understanding less and less. “I don’t know what to make of that.”
In an ideal world it wouldn’t even be a question; Sirius would have already arranged for Regulus to come over, be it for a weekend or even a day, just so the two important people in his life could meet. In theory, the idea is still technically a good one, but Sirius doesn’t even know where he to start. Would Regulus really want to see him and meet Remus, or is that just one of those pleasantries that people say in situations like that? Would Remus want to meet Regulus? How would Sirius feel, seeing the two of them in the same room for the first time?
Regulus doesn’t have a great track record with Sirius’ friends. True, he hasn’t met more than a few, but he has pretty much hated James since the first time Sirius brought him up in a conversation. Sirius can’t be sure, but he has a suspicion that the hatred used to be mostly about the abandonment issues they both suffer from, that maybe Regulus has grown out of it for the most part. Maybe He would be able to stand in the same room as James and act like an adult. But Sirius doesn’t know that for sure, and his skin itches from wanting to bring his people together and at the same time knowing things might not go the way he wants.
Remus hums in that thoughtful way of his. “You’ll do whatever you think is right, I believe. But if it comes down to it, I think I might be very interested in meeting him, too.” Sirius melts against him, not understanding how he can still be amazed by Remus, how any of this can surprise him anymore. “After all, he’s your family. He’s important.”
Sirius smiles, a little rueful. “He is”, he admits, because at least that much is easy to admit as the truth. He yawns and looks across the dark room, wanting to change the subject. “Time goes by so fast. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I came to Whitehaven, but the truth is that Sara is going to need this room sooner rather than later.”
Remus chuckles and tugs on the hairs in the nape of Sirius’ head. “She was literally born today, love. And it’s not like she’s going to need her own room the second they’re back from the hospital, either – didn't Lily say she wants to keep her in their room for at least three months?”
“That’s true.” That’s what they did with Harry, too. Sirius remembers getting a lot of late night calls from both James and Lily around that time, catching up around feeding times. “Still, I can’t help but feel a little like I’m overstaying my welcome, here.” He doesn’t mean here, in Whitehaven, or in Lily and James’ home; he has been told time and time again that he will always be welcome there. But it’s clear in his mind now that his time hiding in their guest bedroom is coming to an end.
“Well, if you’d like, we could take some more of your things with us when we go home tomorrow.” If it weren’t for Sirius resting his head right on Remus’s chest, he would have missed the way his heart rate picks up when he says this. “Most of it is there already, anyway. The rest will find their place soon enough.”
And that? That is so lovely. Sirius listens to Remus’s heart beat, cherishes the sound of it, and loves him so much more than he ever thought he would. This is it, he thinks, this is the start of our life together. He wants to remember every second of it.
Sirius rises up to his elbow, hovering over Remus in the dark. “I love you.”
Remus smiles and pulls him into a kiss. “I know.”
**
@mistressblack111 omg my friend sent me this picture, she lives in rhyl and she saw sirius there last weekend THIS IS NOT A DRILL http://www.instagra... #whataboutsiriusblack #siriusly 2 hours ago
@siriusly_in_love_with_sirius @mistressblack111 OMG THE FIRST REAL SIRIUS SIGHTING IN MONTHS #WhatAboutSiriusBlack #babycomeback 2 hours ago
@bellpeppersandcream @mistressblack111 i'm sorry but why would he be in a random cemetery in rhyl?? i don’t see a connection 1 hour ago
@bellpeppersandcream @misressblack111 i mean he was born in london and raised partly in cambridge, his family still lives in kensington, i don’t understand why he would be in a town no one has ever even heard of 1 hour ago
@gimmesunshine @bellpeppersandcream @mistressblack111 Also the picture is taken super far away and it’s really blurry. That could literally be anyone, I'm honestly not buying it. #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 52 minutes ago
@bellpeppersandcream @gimmesunshine yes, that too. and who even are these people? they're all so far away it’s impossible to recognise them. people should get a grip and stop claiming they’re seeing him all over the place #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 50 minutes ago
@audrey_black98 @mistressblack111 lmao you really expect us to believe that’s him? get a life #WhatAboutSiriusBlack 33 minutes ago
@aurdrey_black98 just a quick PSA, i think we as a fandom should collectively move on from @SiriusBlack. it's been months. dude will show up when he wants to show up. Personally, I'm more invested in knowing what @RegulusBlack is up to now that he’s not in @BlackIndustries anymore #WhatAboutSiriusBlack #WhatsWithTheBlackBrothers 27 minutes ago
Notes:
hello world, meet Sara Nandini Potter <3
(in case you missed it, sirius was playing Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift)
Chapter 17: January, part IV
Summary:
A baby, a dinner party, and a visitor. Sirius reflects and plans and worries - over nothing?
Notes:
i didn't die, i just took a break. don't worry, this story is too important for me to just drop it!
speaking of important, this chapter's just that. it's important to me on a few levels because it has parts that i have had written out for years at this point, so getting them out there is a big deal for me. i hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
At first Sirius thinks the whispers are part of his dream – one that is escaping his head as fast as he tries to hold on to the details. He hangs on to the last bits of dreamland until there’s a rather painful shove of a small bony knee to his hip, and that’s when he can’t ignore the voices anymore.
It’s not the first time Harry has climbed into his bed in the middle of the night; it happens more than Sirius admits to James, because Harry has also mastered the puppy dog eyes that his father has used to get out of trouble so many times. But it’s the first time that there are actually three people in the bed, and while Sirius doesn’t mind the close quarters when it’s just him and Remus, a wiggly four year old between them is a bit of a shock to his system that he is not fully prepared for.
“What time is it?” Sirius mumbles, keeping his eyes closed and holding up the covers for Harry to crawl under. It’s a bit of a tight fit, but Harry is asleep again as soon as his head hits Sirius’ pillow.
“Mm, early. Four-ish.” Remus tugs the covers back over the three of them, then finds Sirius’ hand over Harry’s back. “I think he’s just a bit antsy. It’s a big thing, becoming a big brother. I told him he could sleep here, that you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” Sirius adjusts, turns more on his side, and Harry rather instinctively inches closer to him in his sleep. “Not sure I’ll be able to really fall back to sleep, though.”
Sirius can hear the soft sigh Remus lets out, mimicking the dramatic ones Sirius himself is so fond of. “Me either.”
“Oh, shut up, you’re so not a morning person.” He laughs a little, careful not to disturb Harry’s sleep while fully aware that not a whole lot could wake the boy up right now. He drops a quick soothing kiss to Harry’s messy hair anyway, just in case.
Remus hums, light and sounding much more awake than Sirius feels yet. “I am when I’m very freshly an uncle and can’t really wait to hold that baby again.”
Sirius opens his eyes. It takes a moment for him to adjust to the darkness in the room, but Remus’s face is close, and soon enough he can recognise the familiar twinkle in those eyes that he loves so much. The happiness lingers, tingles in Sirius’ bones and makes him smile in the dark, and Remus smiles back, squeezing his fingers and being all around wonderful. There’s magic in the stillness, in the quiet, that Sirius doesn’t quite capture, one that makes him itch for another song. Back in London, a feeling like this would make him get up to flesh out the song immediately, repeating it over and over until it’s done, no matter what time it is. Here, though, in his new skin, his new life, Sirius doesn’t even think about leaving the bed and the soft, warm bubble he’s in.
He thinks that might be a version of personal growth he hasn’t been expecting. It feels rather good.
“This is a bigger bed than the one we have at home, and we’re barely fitting in it with a toddler”, Remus says after a while, keeping his voice soft in the quiet room. “I’d imagine having Harry here is almost the same as having a decently sized dog in our bed, should you really want to get one. We’re really going to need a bigger bed.” And, before Sirius can even say anything, Remus continues, “I mean, I’m assuming you’re the type of person to let your dog sleep in your bed, because that’s just the way you are, and I honestly don’t have anything against that.”
Sirius hasn’t had a chance to really think about getting a dog since the beach in Rhyl, but as usual, Remus is right: Sirius is the type of person to let the dog sleep in his bed, there’s really no question about it. The only thing he doesn’t care for in Remus’s statement is the exclusion of Remus himself, and it really sounds off in Sirius’ ears. It’s clear to him at this point that whatever direction his life takes, he wants to do that with Remus by his side, taking Remus’s thoughts and opinions into account. They will always be two individuals, sure, but Sirius wants to think that big life decisions, such as getting a dog, should be made as a family unit, instead.
Perhaps that’s why he says, “Oh, so we’re getting a dog now?” with that sort of teasing tone, poking Remus gently in the cheek with his index finger. We, making sure Remus hears it and understands. “Any other developments I should be aware of?”
“Well, full disclosure, Harry did say we need to have at least eleven babies as soon as possible because he wants a lot of cousins to play with”, Remus says, making Sirius almost bark a loud laugh. He’s able to stop himself, though, and just returns Remus’s grin over Harry’s head. “But no, nothing at this very second. You’ll be the first to know, though.”
Sirius wishes he could crawl across the bed and kiss Remus, but there’s a toddler between them; he’ll have to make up for it later. “Alright, then.” He lifts his head a bit, just enough to see the alarm clock on the bed side table over Remus’s shoulder. It’s just a little after four. “You need to try and get some shut-eye while Harry’s asleep, or you’re going to regret it in the afternoon. Do you have classes today?”
Remus closes his eyes and buries half of his face into his pillow. “Mm, no. I did, but I sent off an email last night, listing reading material and essay prompts. Means I’m going to have more papers to grade in a few weeks, but I’ll live.”
That man and his papers. Sirius squeezes his fingers before settling their hands down on Harry’s back. “Rest. I’ll try and keep Harry out of your hair until nine, once he wakes up.”
Despite his earlier claims, Remus falls back asleep soon after that. Sirius lies awake, listening to two sleeping bodies beside him, eyes closed and feeling the calmness of the room envelope him. He feels a lot more settled than he did last night, more stable. It’s like his body has processed most of the troublesome emotions while he was unconscious, leaving him in a muted sort of haze, excitement bubbling under the surface.
For the past week, Sirius has been looking over his notes – both the ones in his note books and the ones on his phone – of all the songs he has finished or written from scratch since he’s been in Whitehaven. There are a lot; since he picked up his guitar last fall, he’s been working almost non-stop, writing and writing every chance he’s gotten, between hanging out with Remus and the Potters and going for runs and getting to know the town. He’s been more productive than he has realised, more productive than he’s been in ages, and he has songs for at least two full albums, all ready for him to record. They’re two very different albums, but in a way, they’re still siblings; stories about losing one thing but gaining another in return, about disappearing only to find a lost part of himself again.
Two albums. Sirius’ mind is buzzing with ideas, and they don’t end there. He knows he can’t really make all these decisions on his own, that he has to discuss with at least Marlene before he announces anything concrete, but that’s alright – she's coming over in a little over a week. He’s already mentally writing down what he’s going to tell her, how he’s going to explain what he wants from his future professionally. Sure, some of his hopes and dreams are still vague, but that’s why he thinks it’s really good that Marlene is coming here; he’s always been able to get his point across to her with a little back and forth.
Sirius must have dozed off again for a moment, because the next time he’s aware of things Harry’s bony knees have managed to wake him up for the second time in the same morning. It takes great effort to keep him quiet until they’re in the upstairs hallway, but once there, Harry is easily persuaded into helping Sirius make breakfast while they let Remus sleep in a bit.
(The last thing Sirius sees through the crack of the guest bedroom door is Remus smiling at him, very much awake but sleepy still, before he closes the door. Harry doesn’t need to know that.)
Harry is a big help in the kitchen – for exactly three seconds, until he starts demanding cartoons. It’s just as well, because Sirius is sure he’ll be able to manage the pancake batter and stove better on his own, anyway, and once Harry remembers his baby sister is coming home today he’s going to be excitable and jittery, if there’s a way to push that moment forward a bit, Sirius will take it. So, he sits the boy down in the living room with a kids show that he’s never heard of, then starts the breakfast ordeal by brewing a large pot of coffee.
Sirius has just managed to gather all his ingredients on the counter when his phone vibrates. James has sent him a message, telling him that they’re all coming home as soon as Lily and Sara pass their final check ups in about an hour. With a smile, Sirius promises to have breakfast ready and waiting for them when they get home, then sips on his coffee as he checks the fridge and pantry for what else he can make with the pancakes.
By the time Remus pads into the kitchen and drapes himself over Sirius’ back in a cosy hug of a person who has just barely really woken up, Sirius has found eggs, toast, jam, and James’ stash of chocolate cereal, and spread them on the counter next to the stove. It feels a bit silly to be making a big breakfast for Lily and James in their own home, but at the same time Sirius feels like it’s the least he could do for them.
“Morning”, Sirius says, leaning back into Remus’s chest a bit while adding final touches to the pancake batter. “Lily and James will be home with Sara in a bit, but you could have slept in.”
“Bed was empty”, is all Remus says to that, kissing Sirius’ neck seemingly unaware of the sappy grin spreading across Sirius’ lips. “I’ll take a nap later at home, if you’ll join me.”
“I could be persuaded.” Sirius takes out a pan and sets it on the stove, then turns around and gives Remus a happy little kiss. “Hey, check the pantry for chocolate chips, will you? Pretty sure the situation calls for special pancakes.”
Remus smiles. “Every situation calls for chocolate chips, if you ask me.”
“That’s because you consume more chocolate than anyone else I have ever known.”
If Remus disagrees, Sirius doesn’t hear it over his smile.
James’ car drives in front of the house around the time Sirius is finishing the pancakes – perfect timing. Remus goes outside to help Lily out of the car while James unloads Sara and her car seat, and Sirius feels the excitement start buzzing under his skin again. He loves children, even after years of thinking he doesn’t (and then learning that he has just been mirroring his parents’ attitudes for a very long time – it took a little time to unlearn), and having another one in his immediate family is such a joy for him. He listens to the small entourage walk in, hears Harry join them, hears his excited little gasps as he looks around the counters to see he’s remembered to pull out everything they need for their late breakfast.
“Oh, Harry, we missed you too”, Sirius hears Lily coo on her way to the living room. “Come here, come on the couch with me so I can snuggle you a bit.” Sirius shows up at the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room just in time to see Harry bury himself against Lily’s side while James starts taking Sara’s winter bundle off on the other end of the couch. “Did you have fun with Sirius and Remus last night?”
Harry nods, dragging his head against Lily’s jumper, his eyes glued on his baby sister slowly emerging from under all the layers of clothing. “Uncle Paddy made a lot of food and me and uncle Moony played with the chickies.”
Sirius looks across the room at Remus, knowing he’s even more excited about Sara that he himself is. There seems to be what at this point feels like a permanent smile on Remus’s lips, reaching his eyes and making them sparkle, and Sirius’ heart does a little skip and dance at the sight of it (funny how that is). The little girl that James takes out of all the folds of clothing is somehow both smaller than bigger than she was the night before when Sirius last saw her, and he has to hold in an audible gasp at the sight of her.
Watching James carefully place Sara in Harry’s arms does something odd to Sirius’ insides. Lily and Remus are taking pictures, or maybe even taking a video, and Harry is so excited he doesn’t seem to be able to contain his wiggling body. Sara is making small soft noises, waking up from her deep slumber, while James instructs Harry how to hold his arms so that Sara will be able to fit safely and comfortably. James ends up having to sit right by Harry and actually hold her for Harry because he is, after all, only four, and his arms are still very small.
It hits Sirius then, strangely, how grown up they all are. He has known James since he barely had an identity of his own, Lily almost as long. It’s insane to think about all the phases of their lives that have come before this, bringing them all from different places to Whitehaven, to what Sirius considers to be the happiest and most content he has ever been in his life. Harry’s birth was a different kind of a shock to his system; he thinks now that he didn’t really grasp it then, how different everything truly is now. And Sirius may not have known Remus for that long yet, but it feels essential to have him there to witness –
Well. Witness an over-excited child and a disturbed newborn, apparently. Harry’s excitement is clearly a little too much for Sara on top of the whole being born thing, and she lets out such a loud wail that Sirius marvels how it’s possible that such a noise left that tiny body. Harry looks scared for a moment, but Lily’s soft chuckles and James’ sure words soothe him quickly.
“It’s all good, baby girl”, James says as he takes control of the situation, holding her in his hands over Harry’s lap, leaving Harry’s hands free. “That’s your brother Harry. The best big brother you could ask for, I bet.”
“I am, I promise!” Harry whisper-shouts, and god, does Sirius hope that Lily’s recording picks up the urgency in his voice. He leans in close and his fingertips brush on Sara’s forehead in a caress so featherlight that it breaks Sirius’ heart a bit. “I’m going to teach you everything. And you can sleep in my bunk bed if you want. Just don’t touch my rocks.”
Sirius laughs, and everyone else laughs, and Sirius thinks he might have caught Remus wiping his eyes a bit.
**
To: Reggie: [picture attached]
From: Reggie: Cute.
To: Reggie: harry’s already such a good brother to sara
To: Reggie: like honestly you wouldn’t believe
From: Reggie: I believe it.
**
To: Gideon Prewett: [picture attached]
To: Gideon Prewett: look at these cuties oh my god??
From: Gideon Prewett: Oh wow, the baby’s here already? Tell James and Lily congratulations from me, yeah?
To: Gideon Prewett: will do!
From: Gideon Prewett: And congrats to you too, uncle!
**
Sirius is still smiling at Gideon’s message when he puts his phone away to sit down for dinner. Hope’s veggie casserole smells amazing, filling every nook and cranny of Remus’s cottage with the aromas, and Sirius can feel in his bones how good it is to be home, even though it’s only been a few days and this place hasn’t been home until quite recently. He looks at Remus across the table and feels settled in his life, happy. It’s strange to think that one of the lowest points in his life has brought him here; like he needed to go through a public smear campaign to find this.
It’s a strange world he lives in, almost in a liminal space. He knows better, but a part of him still expects the other shoe to drop any second. He’s not sure what it is; is he getting ahead of himself, getting attached to a time and a place and a feeling before he has his career plans fully figured out? Or is it that, even after everything, he hasn’t really talked to Remus about why he is in Whitehaven – they both know why, but it’s like they’ve been dancing around the topic of coming here and leaving for the entire time they have known each other.
“You haven’t asked me about him.” Oh, so that’s how he’s going to start this conversation. Sirius doesn’t mean to just blurt it out like that, to sound accusing, and he hopes it won’t come across like that; hopes that Remus can read him better.
But, of course, Sirius’ mind has gone on without him actually explaining what he’s thinking about, and so Remus doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. “About whom?” Remus asks, clearly confused, and Sirius blushes a little, embarrassed of himself. He shakes the feeling off quickly, though.
“Gideon. The interview. Any of it, really. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it at all.” The interview. The backlash. Any of the reasons that made Sirius flee London and come to Whitehaven in the first place.
Remus looks at him for a long moment from across the table, contemplating. (Why is it a norm to sit so far away from each other when it’s just two people at the dinner table? Sirius wants to be able to feel Remus right next to him, wants to hold his hand without awkwardly leaning across the table.) Sirius can feel his eyes on him and returns the gaze, getting momentarily distracted in his favourite set of eyes. He can tell Remus is thinking about a lot of things at once; he wishes he could know even half of them. “Do you want me to ask about it?”
Sirius pauses. “Well.” He swallows. “No? I don’t know. Isn’t that something we are supposed to talk about at some point?”
Remus lets out a quick laugh that is somehow equal parts amused and self-deprecating. “What, exes and past disappointments?”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but in essence, yes.”
With half a smile, Remus shrugs. “To that I would say that back in August, we agreed not to pretend. And that, to me, doing what we are supposed to do just for the sake of it kind of falls under pretending.” When Remus says it like that, Sirius can’t help but agree. Remus takes the wine bottle and tops off their glasses. “But let me put it like this: do you want me to tell you about my exes?”
Sirius’s knee jerk reaction is to say yes, but he hesitates, twirling his glass. Does he want Remus to tell him? Does he want to know how someone else filled the quiet corners of Remus's life, how someone else made a home in his bookshelves and his bay window? Does he want to be able to imagine what kind of a person he’s supposed to be replacing? He knows about the relationship when Remus was seventeen, and even though that story is essential to who Remus is today, Sirius can’t say he wants to know that much more of it.
In the end, the question is simple, and the answer comes easily. “Only if you want to. And I won’t lie and say I care to hear any details.”
As Sirius looks, Remus’s face goes through a series of emotions – he’s very expressive, his Remus, once you get to know him. There’s gratitude, a tinge of old hurt, hesitation, a hint of a smile, and a look that Sirius can only view as nostalgia, all within a few short seconds as Remus thinks on what to tell him. And really, Sirius would just be happy looking at him the rest of the night, but he will be equally grateful for anything Remus has to say.
“I have nothing to hide from you, and I will answer any questions if you have them”, Remus says carefully, looking at the table between them before lifting his eyes to meet Sirius’. “But anyone I have been involved with before... they’re not you. They’re so far from my mind and from my heart, both of which you live in now.” Remus sounds so earnest. His gaze is the most intense, the most wonderful thing Sirius knows. “I know you still want to have a friendship with Gideon, and I respect and support that, but I don’t have anyone like that. I don’t care to have any kind of relationship with the people who have hurt me in the past, and even the best things from those times are not comparable to what I have now with you.”
And that’s a very sweet thing to say, it really is. But it still makes Sirius’ heart ache to hear that not one of Remus’s old boyfriends is worth keeping in touch with – Remus, who deserves everything good in this world, who is so lovable and the best part of Sirius’ day any given day. Sirius wishes he had the words to express this all to Remus one day, express everything that Remus means to him. A simple I love you doesn’t quite feel enough, but it’ll do for now.
Instead, Sirius returns Remus’s earnest gaze with one of his own, hoping for Remus to understand that the conversation doesn’t have to be over if he doesn’t want to. “I understand that. But if you ever change your mind and want to share, you can, you know that, right? And if you ever get uncomfortable with me talking about Gideon or keeping in touch with him, I hope you can tell me that, too.”
Remus – wonderful, beautiful, amazing Remus – smiles as he lifts the wine glass to his lips. “I won’t. But thank you.”
And that’s that.
A change of subject doesn’t feel forced after that. They talk a fair bit about Harry and Sara, about how happy they are for their friends, about their plans for the rest of the week. Remus has quite a few classes to prep for in the next few weeks, as well as preparing in advance for the short leave he needs to take once his book is published in a few weeks’ time. He’ll probably have to pop by the campus physically some time next week, and Sirius is already dreading having to be left behind, wondering how he could weasel himself to join.
“And you have Marlene coming over some time soon, right? That’s kind of exciting.”
It’s not that Sirius forgot. He didn’t, really – it's just that he has been avoiding thinking about what Marlene coming over would mean, and then they were visiting Remus’s parents, and then Sara was born. It’s been a busy week, and it’s now dawning on him that he has just a little over a week to prepare mentally for Marlene’s inevitable interrogations. And he loves her, he does, but he’s not sure what to tell her quite yet.
Or, Sirius thinks as he finishes off his plate, maybe he has some idea. “Yes, she is”, he says, looking at Remus with a nervous smile. “Hey, there’s actually something I want to talk to you about that.”
**
In his personal opinion, Sirius thinks only Lily and James Potter would be so willing to host a dinner party less than a week after welcoming a new baby into their home. It’s a small party, sure, but it’s still a lot, and Sirius would imagine it’s just additional stress that Lily and James don’t really need.
“All I’m saying is that at least you should ask people to bring food”, Sirius says, holding Sara and pacing the floor in front of the couch where Lily is resting. “It wouldn’t be that unreasonable. People want to help a friend out when they have a new baby, you know.”
Lily smiles. “I know that. But we like to host. And you know James, can’t keep him out of the kitchen for long.”
“So let him make some ridiculous dessert that takes three hours to prep”, Sirius shrugs. Sara makes a small sound in his arms, like she’s agreeing with him – or at least that’s how he’s choosing to interpret it. He grins down at her before looking at Lily again. “Think of it as baby’s first potluck dinner. It’ll be fun! Eclectic! You still get to host, but with a lot less stress. I bet Peter will bring a cheese plate, and I have been dreaming about that since New Year’s.”
And so that’s that ends up happening. Come Saturday night, people start coming over with different dishes: Mary and her husband with an assortment of finger foods from the pub, Peter indeed with a cheese plate, and Alice and Frank with a nice crispy tofu salad. Sirius made a mushroom risotto, and when Dorcas arrives slightly late they bring with them a few bottles of wine. None of it should really go together on paper, but it still works, and Sirius doesn’t think he has ever had such a wonderful dinner spread in his life. His parents would be horrified, and just the knowledge of that makes him smile that much wider.
“I would never have thought to try chicken fingers with risotto”, Peter exclaims, always enthusiastic when it comes to food and something new. Sirius has never met someone so unbothered by different things touching and mixing together on his plate. “It’s surprisingly good. You should all try this!”
The only one who takes Peter’s encouragement to heart is Harry, who likes dipping anything and everything and ends up using a mozzarella stick to spoon all the rest of his food into his mouth. Sirius winces at the sight when Harry can’t see, preferring to eat all his foods separately.
Sara, of course, is the star of the show that night. She mostly sleeps through the commotion of people arriving, but once she’s awake she gets passed from person to person, fussing very little with all the new faces and bodies and smells. Sirius feels oddly proud of her, taking the people in so well, but then again, she is James and Lily’s daughter – what else did he really expect? Sara ends up falling asleep in Dorcas’ arms, one of their braids in her fist, and they look perfectly happy to give Lily and James a chance to eat without a baby in their arms and focus more on Harry, who has been learning the hard way that he now has to share his parents’ attention with Sara.
During dinner, Sirius feels at ease, even more so that he already did during his first dinner party in Whitehaven. Even back then, people were so welcoming to him, taking him into their found family like he was already one of them, curious but never overbearing. Now, though, everything seems even better, because he feels like he knows these people now, feels like he truly has made a place for himself here, earned it, even. He may not know most of them well, yet, but he can already tell that Peter is going to grow on him even more, and that Dorcas is exactly his kind of a person. He can’t wait to get to know all of them better.
And Remus. Remus. Sirius has scooted his chair closer to his even though there’s plenty of room around the table regardless. He has never felt this at ease to show his affection to someone around other people. It’s not like he has anything to hide – every single person in this room knows he’s gay, and all of them have seen him and Remus around town either holding hands or kissing on the side of the road. There was never any need for a bigger announcement, and the only people Sirius has explicitly talked about his relationship to are Lily and James, and Mary on a few occasions when she has made some kind of comment at him in the passing. Everyone just seems to take them as they are and quietly celebrate them, and Sirius never even knew something like this was a possibility.
So he sits close to Remus, and enjoys holding his hand all throughout dinner, and doesn’t mind that Mary shares a few meaningful looks with Remus or that he still feels a little prickling in his neck, like someone is going to say something or something is going to happen. Perhaps that’s something that will never quite go away, the slight feeling of unease; maybe it comes with being a celebrity. It’s not like Sirius really has anyone to ask, he thinks as he listens to Remus explain to everyone the details of his book deal.
(How fortunate he is, he thinks not for the first time, that he has someone who doesn’t shy away from his spotlight but lets him shine, doesn’t love him because of the fame but embraces it as a part of him. It’s not going to get any easier once Sirius gets back into business, but if the foundation they’ve built is anything to go by, he’s not really that worried.)
“And Sirius, what’s new with you?” Alice asks, making Sirius jump out of his thoughts a bit. “Remus tells me you’ve been writing and composing like crazy.”
“Bragging, more like”, Peter snickers, and Sirius knows without looking that there’s a lovely little blush on Remus’s neck. “Won’t really shut up about you, to be honest.”
Sirius grins to himself, then realises that he doesn’t really have to hide his plans from these people. They have kept his whereabouts secret from the world so far, and Sirius is willing to believe that they have no motives to share any other information with the media, either.
“Some of you already know, but my friend Marlene is coming into town next week”, Sirius says, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. It doesn’t feel pressuring, though, not like it used to, and Remus’s hand in his is a nice life line that he doesn’t really need. He squeezes his fingers anyway. “We’re going to be talking shop a lot, and I guess you’ll all be seeing her around town.”
His friends all seem genuinely interested to hear that. In another life, Sirius would be self-conscious about sharing all this with people he doesn’t know that well, but that’s the magic of this town; he feels completely safe and secure. He looks at Alice’s excited smile and Peter’s curious eyes and Mary’s bright smile and starts feeling a different kind of excitement about the whole visit himself. He’ll get to show off this place, introduce Marlene to places and people she would otherwise have never met. And he’s missed her, more than he has realised, and her visit is really the best thing she could have offered him at this point in time.
It’s Mary who is fast enough to ask the first question. “I don’t want to sound like a crazy fan, but are you planning a new album?”
It’s a question that’s been a long time coming, Sirius thinks, so it doesn’t startle him or make him uneasy in the way it could have. He takes a sip of his drink and clears his throat, thinking about how much he wants to tell them at this point, before he can hash out the plans any further with Marlene next week.
“Among other things, yeah. New albums will be discussed, and eventually I’m going to need to get in touch with my producer to see about studio time.”
“Are you going back to London for that?” Frank asks, and it’s a fair question, asked kindly. Sirius still feels a little defensive when he answers.
“Well, I have to go for some of it. Benjy has a studio near Cambridge, so I’m probably going to spend a few long weekends there, but until it’s otherwise decided, I will always be coming back to Whitehaven in between.” He’s sure they can all hear the implications of that between the lines, and he can feel heat creeping up his neck. Remus’s hand in his is heavy and warm and solid. “And then, of course, when the album comes out, I might need to be away for a bit longer at a time.”
Remus’s thumb moves back and forth against the side of his palm, grounding and soothing, reminding Sirius of their conversation earlier in the week. It had not been easy, but it needed to be discussed, the fact that Sirius had obligations in London but that his heart, his soul, was now rooted in Whitehaven. It used to be different before, easier, to visit the Potters or have them visit him and then go back to the hustle and bustle of the industry and the city life. That’s what he was used to; that’s what he knew.
Now, it’s almost like his life has more substance. There are more things outside of London and the business that he enjoys, more things he wants to do and explore and experience that have nothing to do with his career and would be impossible in a London based life – or if not entirely impossible, then at least very difficult, and not in the way that Sirius wanted. He knows more what he wants from life and who he wants in it, and most of the people he wants to surround himself with are here, right now, at this dinner table. It’s taken a lot of time for him to work things out in his head, but now that he has, he knows in his heart that he needs to hold on to this hope.
But the fact of the matter is, Sirius still wants to make his music. He loves to write songs, he loves sharing it with the world – hell, he even likes being on tour, exhausting and time consuming as it is. He’s not ready to give that up, and that’s where he thought there was going to be an issue. He could not just expect Remus to be alright about him coming and going all the time, sometimes being out of town for weeks, even months at a time. It wouldn’t be fair to Remus.
However, Remus has a way of constantly surprising him. Not only is he entirely on board with Sirius’ plans to not only get back online but also go back into the world of music, he also surprised Sirius by giving him solutions to some of the issues he was having.
“I’ve been thinking about this too, you know”, Remus had said to him, a small teasing smile on his lips that Sirius absolutely fell in love with. “And it’s going to be hard, I’m not going to lie to you about that. But you will always have a home here, as long as you want it, and we can make it more official too, if you want. And –“ that’s where Remus’s cheeks had darkened to a lovely shade of red, eyes dropping to his hands, “– and honestly, you don’t have to go to London alone, either. I teach online, and I write; I can do both of those things quite literally anywhere I want.”
It had been easy, after that, to change Sirius’ current address to Whitehaven, to set his London flat as a secondary home. His name has been added to the cottage’s lease, and Sirius has sent Marlene a message with a few added things he hopes she can bring him from the flat when she arrives. It’s a big step, Sirius thinks, as he has never even considered living with anyone before since he moved out of James’ parents’ home when he was eighteen, but Remus has a way of not making it feel so daunting and scary. In a way, it almost feels like nothing has changed, and yet everything is slightly different.
The conversation moves on to Peter after that, as Dorcas asks him about the woman they had seen him chatting up in town the other week. Sirius leans on Remus’s shoulder as the whole group gently teases and prods until Peter finally admits that he is more or less seeing someone from out of town, swearing them all to secrecy with a twinkle in his eyes.
“It’s nothing serious just yet, mind you!” he smiles jovially, but Sirius can see through his walls that he has big hopes. Peter is a local politician, he has an image to uphold just like Sirius does, and that means he has been trained to give a lot of none-answers to things that are not yet set in stone. Sirius can relate to that all too well. “But I can tell you this much: it’s a real miracle she’s still willing to go out with me after I majorly messed up our first date!”
The doorbell rings just as James is bringing in the dessert. Lily is busy feeding Sara, and Sirius is up from his chair before anyone else can really react.
“I’ll get it”, he assures James, then points a finger at Peter with a grin. “And when I get back, I want all the details from that date!”
Peter’s promise and a chorus of laughter follows him down the hall, and Sirius smiles as he reaches the door. He’s tipsy from the wine, high from the company, giddy from just being around people he loves, and so he’s incredibly ill-prepared for what waits for him when he opens the front door into the winter night.
Because standing there on the porch, in tails and a thin scarf and bags under his eyes, is Sirius’ little brother.
Notes:
i'm sorry?
Chapter 18: February, part I
Summary:
Does it feel alright to not know me? I'm addicted to the if only.
Notes:
welcome to the regulus arc! i am so excited that we have finally arrived.
this chapter is a lot, i admit that, but i hope you can forgive me - these boys have a lot of thing to talk about. and would you look at that, the plot is making a real appeareance! and also, if anyone is interested: i'm making a slow comeback to tumblr, trying to turn my account from less pjo-exclusive to more wolfstar-inclusive. come say hi!
please heed the updated tags, they are there for a reason. the black brothers have had a rough life.
Chapter Text
“You’re wearing a tux.”
Regulus looks down at himself, like he’s not aware of what he’s wearing at all. “Oh. Yes. I came straight from a friend’s wedding.”
Regulus came straight from a friend’s wedding. Regulus has a friend who just got married, there was a bachelor party last week, Regulus attended that wedding. Judging by the tux and the heavy wool coat, it was one of those fancy socialite weddings that Sirius always sees on social media. Sirius feels like his mind is going around in circles and focusing on the most irrelevant details while his body is still with shock.
“I like weddings. Well, I think I like weddings. I’ve only ever actually been to one wedding that wasn’t just fully Black family bonkers, and I liked that one.” Sirius is babbling, he knows he is, but he can’t stop his mouth from moving. His heart is beating painfully against his rib cage; it’s a very different feeling from when it skips a beat because of Remus. “You’re here. You’re in Whitehaven. I’m not seeing things, am I?”
Regulus rolls his eyes. It makes him look like the boy Sirius once new. The thought eases the tightness in his chest the tiniest bit, but only for a second or two.
“Yeah, I’m in Whitehaven.” They stare at each other for a long moment, long enough that the chill of the winter night makes them both shiver. “Are you going to make me stand in the cold or can I come in?”
Without words, Sirius merely steps aside to let Regulus walk in, then closes the door behind him. He doesn’t offer to take his coat; doesn’t do any of the things that a good host is supposed to do. He’s not a host, he doesn’t live here – it's awfully rude of Regulus, actually, to just barge in without a notice. He should have called first. Or texted. Hell, Sirius wouldn’t have been opposed to a letter from his brother, literally just any warning before pulling the rug from under him on such a lovely night.
Sirius is angry. At himself or Regulus or their parents, he doesn’t know. He’s angry and confused like a fucking child, and that’s exactly how he used to feel when he was still trapped in that house, in that life, and that just makes him even angrier. What right does Regulus really have to just appear at his – James' – doorstep out of the blue like this? Furthermore – how is Sirius supposed to trust him to not bring reporters at his wake, or at the very least plant crucial information in the dozen or so newspapers that Black Industries own and that Regulus still no doubt has good contacts in? Sirius has no relationship with his brother, not really, no matter how badly he may secretly hope for one, and he can feel uneasiness creeping up his spine the longer he looks at Regulus there in the hallway.
Despite the bags under his eyes, Regulus looks good. He looks healthy in a way that Sirius now realises he hasn’t seen him since they were very little; he’s not off-puttingly skinny, there’s colour in his cheeks (be it from healthy habits or the cold, Sirius doesn’t really care). His hair is longer, too, not the short crop that the finance guys and their parents prefer, but longer on top, letting his curl pattern come out. (Regulus’ curls are tighter than his, Sirius notices. Neat ringlets that fall artistically across his forehead. There’s a level of care that’s been put into them. Another thing he never knew of his brother.)
Joyful laughter sounds out from the dining room, and Sirius is annoyed. He should be there with his friends, sneaking a kiss from Remus between sips of wine while waiting for his turn to hold Sara. Instead, he’s standing in the hallway with the last person he ever expected to show up, practically feeling all his walls building up fast after being carefully, miraculously broken down over the past few months.
Regulus’ eyes flit towards the sounds and he frowns. “You have company.”
Sirius resists the urge to roll his eyes. Or punch Regulus. “Well, you didn’t exactly announce yourself, did you?”
It almost looks like Regulus is about to say something, the frown deepening on his face, but before he can they are interrupted by little feet running towards them at a speed that Sirius thinks can only end with Harry colliding against Sirius’ legs.
“Padfoot! Uncle Moony says I can eat your dessert if you don’t come and eat it!” Harry comes running towards them, then abruptly skids to a halt when he sees Regulus, his eyes growing comically large and shiny and a dramatic gasp leaving his mouth. “Wow! Are you a prince?”
Regulus looks stunned. Sirius would laugh if the situation were different. “Um – what?”
“You look like a prince!” Harry gets on the tips of his toes, the way he does when he’s really excited and can’t really contain his energy. “Are you? Princes are really pretty and wear nice clothes like that all the time. Daddy said!”
Sirius swallows, places a protective hand on the back of Harry’s head. “Harry, this is my little brother, Regulus.”
As expected, Harry frowns as he looks up at Sirius, waiting for a better explanation. “But he’s not so little?”
“Um. Yeah. That’s how growing up works, I’m afraid.” Sirius spares a quick look at Regulus but can’t read his blank face to save his life. Instead, he returns his focus on Harry again. “Harry, could you please go get your dad?”
“What about your dessert?”
Sirius smiles, feeling a surge of affection towards Harry and his priorities. “All yours, buddy.”
Harry skips away, running a victory lap through the living room on his way from the sounds of it. It makes the smile on Sirius’ lips linger for half a second longer before he looks at his brother again.
There was a time, a long time ago, when Sirius knew his brother better than he knew himself. A part of him aches for those days now, when the man in front of him is so familiar to him and yet a total stranger. Sirius knows it’s partly his own fault, partly Regulus’; the mature part of him knows their parents carry most of the blame, but he’s too stubborn to admit it yet.
(A part of Sirius, the same part that aches for a little brother that he doesn’t know, is happy that Regulus is there. Overjoyed, actually. It’s there, in the back of his mind, screaming at him to play nice, be cool, not scare Regulus away. It’s the part of him that still remembers climbing in each other's beds after nightmares, still remembers the sound of a little boy’s laughter when they built their pillow forts Sirius has kept that part of himself locked up for a very long time, but it seems like there’s a crack in his defenses, now.)
“What the hell is a Padfoot?” is how Regulus breaks the silence between them, and something about the words reminds Sirius of the day he first met Remus. He shoves the memory out of his mind, wanting to protect it from his own irritation.
“It’s a nickname.” He could elaborate if he wanted. He doesn’t. “Regulus, what are you doing here?”
Regulus shrugs. “I need to talk to you.”
Like it’s nothing. Like it’s just that simple. Irritation prickles Sirius’ skin and he digs his nails to the palms of his hands, trying to calm himself down. “So pick up the fucking phone! You can’t just – “ He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens them again. “This is my safe place, Reggie. You can’t just show up without a warning like this.”
Regulus doesn’t respond. Sirius watches as he fiddles with the button on the sleeve of his coat. There’s a loose thread. A petty voice inside Sirius’ head says he hopes the button falls off; he mentally bats the voice away. The silence stretches between them, and Sirius believes it’s on Regulus to break it, to explain himself, so he says nothing and just waits until James finally shows up and rescues him from the situation.
“Harry said you needed me?” Just like Harry, James stops when he sees Regulus – but the look on his face is less of wonder, more of genuine surprise. “Oh. Hello, Regulus. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Regulus merely nods. “Potter.” His voice is ice cold, and that at least is familiar. Sirius wants to scoff at how predictable it is that Regulus is still not over James becoming his best friend when they were eleven years old. “I apologise for showing up like this. I have things to discuss with my brother.”
Sirius scoffs at Regulus’ stupid stick-in-the-ass manners as James looks between them hesitantly. They both used to hate having to learn the proper ways of high society; Sirius remembers making faces behind their teacher’s back in an attempt to make Regulus laugh and break out of his well-practiced posture. It looks like in Sirius’ absence no one has been there to force Regulus to lighten up, and the squared shoulders and lazy, indifferent tone are now second nature. It’s a little sad, when Sirius thinks about it, and he shrugs it off like a wet dog.
“Right.” James tries to ask Sirius something with his eyes, but Sirius avoids answering. “Do you want to talk in my study? Rather than in the hallway? I assume you would like to do this in private.”
After Regulus nods, James shows them into the study through the living room. Sirius catches a glimpse of Remus, looking at them over his shoulder with a worried frown. Sirius tries to smile at him, to signal that he’s alright, but is he? Is he alright? He doesn’t know. All he knows that when they’re in the study and James needs to join the dinner party – he is the host, after all – Sirius wants to run after him, not stay in the small room alone with Regulus.
The study is a small room, barely used except for when James needs to do video calls or other online promotional work for his charities. There’s a nice desk with a computer set up, a wall of book shelves, and another wall that’s all window, usually showing a nice view of the back yard. Now, however, it’s dark and wet and cold, and all Sirius can see is the pale reflections of the three of them on the glass, and he instantly looks away.
The door closing behind James echoes inside Sirius’ skull, and he doesn’t turn to look at Regulus right away. Instead, he closes his eyes, breathes in slowly once, twice, three times, does a quick grounding exercise. He can do this. It’s just his brother.
“Okay.” Sirius rolls his shoulders back and turns around, leaning against the door. “You said you need to talk to me. Talk.”
Regulus looks at him, his eyes mere thin slits as he glowers. “I don’t understand why you’re so hostile all of a sudden. I thought we were making progress over the phone the other night.”
“Well, I guess a few cordial phone calls don’t equal to a repaired relationship.” He waits a beat, and when Regulus doesn’t say anything to that he huffs an annoyed breath. “Why are you here? So you can report back to mommy and daddy how badly their eldest is behaving? Are you going to dig up enough ammunition to publicly humiliate me some more now that the worst has finally died down?” It’s a low blow, and Sirius knows it, he just can’t stop himself from spitting the words out right at Regulus’ face like they’re poison on his tongue.
“I left the company. I left Kensington. I haven’t had any contact with mother or father in over a month now.” On some level, Sirius has known this already. James has kept him updated on what little he has seen about Regulus in the media. Still, it’s good to have confirmation straight from the source. “Like I said, I have things to discuss with you, and I recon it’s going to turn into several long discussions, so coming here was, simply put, the logical solution.”
The logical solution. For some reason that phrase almost makes Sirius smile. He used to tease Regulus for liking Star Trek, saying he was half a Vulcan himself. Looks like some things don’t change, after all. “Alright, let’s say I agree to talk with you. What’s the urgency?”
Regulus pauses. Opens and closes his mouth a few times. Sirius picks on his nail polish. “I believe I have the means to take down Black Industries and sue our father into oblivion in the process.”
All of a sudden Sirius can’t feel his tongue. There’s a ringing noise in his ears that makes it impossible to hear anything else. It’s fortunate that he’s already leaning against something, because his legs start feeling wobbly as soon as Regulus’ words start sinking in.
Taking down the company is something Sirius hasn’t even dared to dream about since he was thirteen, and back then he thinks it was mostly spite and general irritation that fuelled his daydreams. But this is coming from Regulus, who as far as Sirius knows has been in the meetings with their father since he was sixteen years old and knows every single decision made in those meeting rooms. Regulus knows the company like the back of his hand, was going to be the one inheriting the whole business empire; if Regulus thinks there’s enough shadiness going on to take the whole thing down, Sirius has no reason to doubt him.
And to see his father behind bars, on top of that? That would be something he has never even dared to hope for. It would not mean Orion Black would be taken accountable for the abuse and neglect of his children, but Sirius knows that being stripped of his company and business status will be much more humiliating to that man. And he can’t even begin to think what all this would mean to their mother, the woman behind every detail, the one truly in control of Orion’s every action.
Taking down Black Industries is a mad man’s job. They have seemingly bottomless pockets, they have an arsenal of lawyers at their disposal, and they have no care for anyone who they might take down with them. Sirius has no idea how Regulus will even begin to do all this, how he thinks he’s going to survive it. And even if he does, what then? Where will that leave Regulus? There’s no way he can ever work in finance after that, not with the reputation of bringing down the biggest player in the field.
That’s also where doubt rises in Sirius. Why would Regulus do all that? At such big personal cost? And why would he share it with Sirius? Has he already started his take down? How does coming to Whitehaven fit in in all this?
“And what do you need me for?” Sirius asks, clearing his throat but thinking that Regulus can still probably hear the tremble in his voice. “Sounds like you have it all covered.”
Sirius doesn’t look, but he thinks he can hear Regulus taking a deep breath. “Well. I thought you might take part. You deserve to have your revenge as much as I do.” In the corner of his eye, Sirius can see Regulus start his fidgeting again. He used to do that a lot when he was smaller. “And I have documents about your record label being silently purchased by Black Industries around the time you signed on. There are some... parts, some wordings, that I think you should look over with someone. Maybe a lawyer.”
And that – that is something that Sirius doesn’t want to hear. He can feel bile rising in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear that all this time, all the years he has been trying to make a name for himself outside of his family, during all that pain and frustration and stress – he has been, in essence, working for his father? He doesn’t want to hear that, he doesn’t want to think about that, but oh, does it all make so much more sense now.
Sirius closes his eyes and takes deep breaths as he tries to put all that aside for now and focus on the problems at hand. He can hear people outside the study moving through the living room towards the hallway; he hates that he knows everyone is leaving, that his wretched family drama has once again put a damper on a perfectly lovely social function. He hates that almost more than he hates his parents; he hates the fact that their legacy is still ruining everything, even when they’re not in town, even when they don’t (probably) even know where Sirius is.
But Regulus does. Regulus knows, and Regulus is here. Sirius’ eyes snap open.
“You want my help?” he asks, finally looking up at his brother. They’re the same height, almost to the centimetre, but Sirius needs to tilt his gaze up a bit due to his slouched posture against the door.
Regulus nods. “Yes.” The curls against his forehead cast dramatic shadows over his eyes. He looks like a movie villain.
“Why?”
A pause. “You’re my brother. What other reason do I need?”
And while that’s a nice sentiment in theory, all it does is make the anger in Sirius rise to a peak as he scoffs at Regulus. “We haven’t been brothers for a long time, Reggie. Not in the ways that matter. You made sure of that.”
Regulus looks angry now. A part of Sirius is glad; he hates being the only one angry in this situation. “I did not – “
“You told me you’d rather I die than walk out on you”, Sirius spits, recalling the night he left with glaring detail in his head. He remembers the darkness of the room, how Regulus sounded when he yelled, what the tears felt like when Sirius was choking on them on his way to the Potters’.
But Regulus doesn’t even miss a beat. “You can’t hold me accountable for something I said when I was fifteen and not eating, cutting myself daily to even feel something.”
The words make Sirius feel cold. He had had his suspicions, back when they were teenagers, but he never saw anything to prove it – or maybe he didn’t want to see, too focused on his own pain. So he never said anything. Add that to the long list of regrets he has when it comes to his brother.
Sirius needs to get out of there. All of this – all of it – is too much for him to manage at once. He feels claustrophobic and itchy, and he’s neglected going on a run for too long now, he needs a way to let all this raw energy go. He needs to get out.
“I’m going to go”, he says, pushing himself off the door and reaching for the knob. “I’m not running away, I just – this is a lot right now, Regulus. You came here and sprung this all on me without a warning and – and I wasn’t expecting any of it.” He cracks the door open; judging by the relative silence from the other side, the rest of the dinner guests have left. He briefly wonders if Remus left with them. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow, when I’ve cooled down.”
He doesn’t wait for Regulus to respond as he yanks the door open. Stepping into the living room makes him feel better in a second, and not only because he can see that Remus did not, in fact, leave, but is instead sitting on the couch with Lily, a baby monitor between them. Harry must already be asleep, it’s getting rather late. James is up, pacing the carpet in front of the TV; Sirius knows without asking that he has been debating whether to enter the study or not, if he should come in for Sirius’ rescue and act as a buffer between him and his brother. He loves James for that.
Hearing Regulus follow him out of the study, Sirius makes quick introductions. “Regulus, you remember Lily, I trust. And this is Remus.”
He watches as Remus gives Regulus a polite, if a little distant, smile, and makes a cute little wave with his hand. “Where are you staying, Regulus?”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I’ll get a room somewhere in town – “
“There’s no way you can find a room anywhere in Whitehaven at this hour”, James interrupts. “You’d have to drive for, like, two hours to find a place that’s taking people in before noon tomorrow. You’ll stay in the guest bedroom upstairs.”
Sirius can tell that Regulus is about to protest, but before he can, Lily is up from her seat. “Have you eaten? I’ll make you a plate.”
They’re both being extraordinarily nice. It’s nothing less than what Sirius expects from them, but it’s still a nice contrast to his own – admittedly hostile – reaction to Regulus just showing up out of the blue. Lily goes to the kitchen despite Regulus’ protests and comes back with a plate full of leftovers from their eclectic dinner, then sits him down on the couch while James takes his coat and takes it to the hallway. Regulus looks odd, sitting there in his fancy clothes, so out of place in James and Lily’s cosy living room. Like one of those kids’ picture problems; find five things that are wrong. Regulus is all of them.
Gingerly, Sirius reaches for Remus’s hand from where he’s standing by the couch. “Hey”, he whispers, and Remus links their fingers together. Sirius feels better.
“Hi.”
Sirius swallows, itching for a moment of peace and quiet. “Can we go home?” he asks, feeling like a little kid with his whiny little voice and a lump that’s making itself known in his throat.
Remus nods and gets up, but Regulus’ voice makes Sirius turn towards him again. “Home? I thought you were staying with Potter?”
For a long time now, Sirius has been teaching himself that he doesn’t owe anyone any explanations – but he feels like he owes Regulus one now. He feels that, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t give it. All he does is shrug. “I was. Now I’m not.” He hesitates, looks around the room once and then back at Regulus, his voice a little bit more gentle as he lets out a soft, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, love”, Lily says quietly as she hugs him on his way to the hallway. “Good thoughts only tonight, alright?”
Sirius nods, not sure if he can manage that in the end but promising himself and Lily to give it a good try. He puts on his shoes and coat in a silence, noting that Remus sits down to tie his shoes which he doesn’t always do, wonders if he should ask. He doesn’t.
They’re almost out the door when Regulus appears in the room again. “Two more things, before you go.”
Sirius closes his eyes against the irritation and feels Remus squeeze his hand in a valiant effort to offer support. “Reggie, I swear to God – “
“First, you’re not the only one who grew up in that same abusive home and was forced to hide their true identity for longer than anyone should have to.” That much is fair, and Sirius opens his eyes to see that something in Regulus’ eyes has changed, now; he looks more vulnerable, more earnest. Like he really needs Sirius to hear this. “Second, and I know this will come as a shock to you, but you’re also not the only queer kid in our family. I know it will take time for you to trust me, but I hope that coming out to you can prove at least something.”
And Regulus shouldn’t have to do that. He absolutely shouldn’t. It’s shitty that he feels the need to prove himself to Sirius, that he feels pressured to come out to him like this. Coming out, Sirius knows from personal experience, can be a traumatic thing; it should happen on your own terms, and even then there’s no guarantee of a warm welcome. Regulus must be desperate, and Sirius can feel the pit in his stomach open up wide, ready to swallow him in one go.
“Thank you for telling me”, he says after a beat, consciously not looking away from Regulus’ eyes. It’s the only right thing to say in this situation, in Sirius’ opinion. He doesn’t have any other words.
Regulus swallows, looks to the side, then back at Sirius. “I looked up to you in more ways than you know. Still do, weirdly enough.”
And Sirius doesn’t know what to make of that, doesn’t want to think about it anymore, so after one more long look, he turns around and closes the door behind himself.
No matter any of his other feelings in this situation, Sirius feels a little bit of a sadistic joy when he leaves Regulus alone with James and Lily like that. He knows that James and Lily, ever the perfect hosts, will take it all in stride and do all in their power to make anyone feel like home despite their past, but Regulus? Sirius knows what he thinks about James, or what he used to, anyway. He’s not sure he’s ever actually said a word to Lily before, but Sirius imagines he will have to, before the end of the night. (A sick part of him wants to be there to witness the way Regulus squirms, halfway between polite and resentful.)
Remus holds his hand and doesn’t say anything for a good three minutes, but when he does, he starts it with a deep breath, and Sirius knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. “So that’s Regulus.”
It almost makes Sirius smile, how well he knows Remus. “That’s Regulus. I’m sorry your first meeting couldn’t be...” He makes a wild gesture with his free hand, not even sure what he’s aiming for. “I don’t know. Nicer. Better planned. Somewhat decent.”
“It’s alright.” Remus squeezes his fingers, and Sirius squeezes back, like their own little language. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Sirius huffs a breath and watches it mist tin the air. He’s always thought it looks magical, eve on a night like this when he barely has the mental capacity to appreciate it. “I do. Just not tonight.” He spares Remus a quick sideways glance, admiring his profile in the moonlight. “Ask me about anything else, please.”
While Remus thinks, Sirius frets. He thinks about Regulus’ words right as they left, and he thinks about when the two of them were young. How long has Regulus knows he’s queer? Did he know when Sirius was still there, when Sirius was being beaten and all but kicked out for liking boys? Did Regulus know and watch, knowing if he said anything he’d be next? Is that why they never had a relationship after that; was Regulus too afraid, did he think that if their parents caught the two of them talking they would assume things about Regulus, too?
And why bring it up now? It feels a little weaponizing, just dropping it like that, knowing there’s nothing Sirius can really say to that. Is that what Regulus is after? Did he intentionally drop that bomb right as Sirius was leaving, to make him spiral on his way home? Is that what this is all about – is Regulus playing some kind of mind games, just like their mother always used to?
“I’ve never heard the story behind your nicknames.”
Sirius is snapped out of his thoughts once again, and this time the pull back to reality isn’t as harsh. “Our nicknames?”
“Yours and James’.” There’s a curious lilt in Remus’s voice. “Padfoot and Prongs. What’s that about?”
They walk around a frozen puddle. Sirius notices that their pace is slower than usual, but doesn’t mention it. “If I tell you, will you tell me about Moony?”
Remus flashes him a smug grin. “Maybe.”
And that’s good enough, Sirius supposes as he recalls a time long since passed. “When we were twelve years old, James was really into spirit animals. You know, in that way a twelve year old just gets this obsession one day? He was trying to determine an animal for everyone he knew. He himself, inexplicably, was sure his was a deer; a stag, to be precise. He would draw these elaborate antlers on the cover of every one of his notebooks and on his arms, even carved them on a table in the school library and got a week’s worth of detention for it.”
Remus snorts. “Somehow, I am not surprised at any of this.” Sirius laughs with him. It feels good to laugh; he feels like he hasn’t laughed in ages, even though realistically he knows it’s barely been two hours. “And what did he think your spirit animal was?”
Sirius bites his lip. “A dog. A big, black dog, like a hound. I think it was partly because of my name, partly because I used to have a habit to sneak around the house, not making a sound.” It’s a trauma response, he knows now, born from always being afraid in his own home, being scared of what might be behind the next corner, what might happen if he makes too much noise. He knows he doesn’t have to explain that to Remus. “Padding around, he’d say. So, Padfoot.”
Remus hums in thought. “And Prongs, for the antlers”, he guesses quite correctly. “I have to admit, that’s rather clever for twelve year olds.”
Sirius laughs again. “I like to think we were quite clever. Helped us out of a lot of trouble, that’s for sure.”
They walk in silence for a bit, and the air around them feels lighter, now. The cold isn’t as biting, the wind not as harsh. Sirius is once again struck by the notion that having someone like Remus around really does make everything better, no matter how difficult it may seem at first. He makes a mental note to do something very nice for Remus some day soon.
“You still do that sometimes, you know.” Sirius turns to look at him, a question in his eyes even though Remus doesn’t turn to look and see before he continues. “Pad around. Scared me a few times, before I got used to having you around.”
“Sorry.”
“No, that’s – no. I didn’t say it to...” Remus stops walking, but Sirius doesn’t know if it’s for his benefit or Remus’s own since he has noticed that Remus has definitely been favouring his leg the entire walk. Nonetheless, Remus turns to look at him fully, like he wants to make sure his words hit the mark. “All I’m saying is that old habits are hard to break. It’s not your fault; sometimes it’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just a fact of life.”
And yes, maybe in this case there is actual fault to throw around, but Sirius knows – even without Remus’s rather lovely and heartfelt reminder – that it shouldn’t land on him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t feel the need to, but he does step closer and gets on the tips of his toes to give Remus a quick kiss, one that he has been longing for for what feels like hours at this point. When they resume walking, even slower than before, Sirius keeps close, wrapping his arm around Remus’s middle. It’s a little awkward like that, but it’s not a long walk to begin with, and they’re already way past the halfway point.
“So”, he says, aiming for a cheerier tone. “What about Moony?”
Sirius feels Remus’s chuckle against his own body. “Unfortunately, it’s not quite as old a story as yours.”
“James says Harry came up with it?”
“Hm”, Remus admits. His arm over Sirius’ shoulders pulls him a little closer, and Sirius goes very willingly. “A little over a year ago, when I was only getting to know Lily and James, I was often around for Harry’s bedtime. He had just gotten the book Goodnight Moon for his birthday that year and kept asking for it. I guess, in his excitement and sometimes exhaustion, the words started to blend in his head, and when he told us good night before bed, he started calling out ‘good night Moony’. It was so cute. Then the name just... stuck, I guess.”
Sirius lets out a dramatic gasp that Harry would be jealous of. “That’s so cute”, he gushes, looking up at Remus to see a smile on his lips. “I got him that book, you know.”
Remus looks at him. “I heard. Harry always talks about you.” Then he stops a bit, laughs, shakes his head as if he’s recalling something funny. “I didn’t know for a long time who Padfoot really was, though. I got confused a few times before Lily explained it all to me.”
It’s easy to imagine, and Sirius laughs a little too. Remus is leaning on his side now, subtly, like he needs the help but doesn’t want to ask.
“Are you alright?” Sirius asks carefully, not wanting to sound condescending or like he doesn’t think Remus can handle his own chronic pain. All he wants is to be supportive, and even though Remus is prideful and stubborn, he deserves the help Sirius wants to give.
“It’s nothing”, Remus brushes him off. “Just a little numbness around my hip, nothing to worry about. Happens sometimes.”
Sirius doesn’t say anything, but he does purse his lips together. He doesn’t want to act like he has any sort of authority in the matter; his experience on Remus’s flare ups is very limited, and he can’t say that he’s handled either of them very well. But given what he knows, what Remus has told him and what he has been able to gather between the lines, Sirius knows the flare ups come around periodically, and it’s been a while since the last one. They’re due a new one eventually, and Sirius just hopes Remus can talk to him about it, let him help.
But all that he can push aside. He can look ahead, see their small cottage there like a finish line, and focus on enjoying this moment with Remus. He’ll think about the pain and pride and his brother again in the morning.
Chapter 19: February, part II
Summary:
Morning walks, morning talks. And Peppa Pig.
Notes:
*shows up half a year later with iced matcha and a stack of undiagnosed mental illnesses* hi
life has been all around pretty shitty these past however many months it has been. but now that it's marginally less shitty, i managed to put together a new chapter. it's shorter than i would have liked, but you've waited long enough. i hope this gets you excited about the story again; i know it helped me. the next chapter shouldn't be six months away!
Chapter Text
Sirius hates the cold, but the way it burns in his lungs as he runs is a welcome sensation. He enjoys the rhythm he and James have going on, their strides matching and their breathing finding a perfect balance. The route is familiar enough by now that Sirius thinks he might be able to go through it with his eyes closed, but he is nonetheless grateful for the soft sunrise that peaks in between the trees as they turn around to start their way back.
James has tried to strike up a conversation a few times already, but Sirius doesn’t feel like talking yet. He knows he’s being bratty, and he’s actually very grateful for James in more ways than one – especially after he and Lily took Regulus in last night. They didn’t have to. Regulus has never been nice to either of them. It’s just hard for Sirius to find words for all the complicated things he’s been feeling since last night.
He hasn’t gotten much sleep. He’s afraid he’s kept Remus up with his tossing and turning, and he feels bad about that and makes a mental note to make it up to him somehow. Sirius just doesn’t quite know what to do. He likes planning, knowing what is about to happen, and he has already been stressing about and preparing for Marlene’s arrival – Regulus showing up unannounced has not been in his cards, and on top of everything else, he’s pissed off about that messing up his routines. And that makes him feel a little stupid, and that makes him even more pissed off. It’s a vicious cycle, one that Sirius would like to get off of.
Still in silence, they reach the intersection where they usually part ways, but James speaks before Sirius can turn towards the cottage. “You’re having breakfast with us. Lily said she’d call Remus while we’re running; he’s probably already at ours with a change of clothing for you.”
Sirius hates that James feels the need to force Sirius, to plan behind his back like this. He hates that he’s right to; hates that he probably would have refused to see Regulus today at all, if it weren’t for this.
Reluctantly, Sirius follows James home.
They stop to stretch on the drive way. Sirius tries to keep his eyes on the pavement, on the porch steps, but eventually his gaze travels upwards towards the guest room window. The angle is bad, so he wouldn’t know either way, but he doubts Regulus is the type to stalk others through a bedroom window. At least he never used to be, years ago.
“He’s not very talkative, your brother.” Sirius turns to look at James, who also has his eyes trained on the upstairs windows with a frown. “Does he still hate me?”
Sirius swallows. Something tastes bitter in his mouth. “Hard to say. Who knows what he’s like these days.”
“Seems to me like he wants to get to know you again.” Sirius narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to protest, but James continues before he can utter a word. “I mean, how would I know, I don’t have any other siblings apart from your sorry ass. But if my brother drove halfway across the country, straight from his best friend’s wedding, to show up announced at my door, I would think that counts for at least something.”
The irritating part is that James is probably right. About everything. And also that Sirius feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about it, his little brother making the long way to see him and then getting really nothing in return. Neither of them were ever really taught how to properly express their feelings; Sirius should have expected that to be their eventual downfall.
(He misses his brother. Really misses him. Last night, after going to bed, with Remus’s breathing a grounding feeling under his palm, Sirius allowed himself a small smile. He knows he’s been harsh; he knows he’s been unfair. But maybe, just maybe, there can be a future where the sight of Regulus won’t make his stomach turn painfully with years of regret. Maybe, in that future, they can see each other even a few times a year, just to catch up and do normal sibling stuff. He’ll just have to figure out what normal sibling stuff is first.)
Sirius takes a deep breath. The freezing air burns its way from his nose to his lungs, and when he swallows he can almost taste blood. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
James claps his shoulder. “You can use the shower downstairs.”
Remus, to his credit, looks apologetic when he hands Sirius a tote bag with comfortable clothes. Sirius isn’t really mad at Remus (just a little miffed, maybe), and so he pecks his lips quickly as thanks before making a beeline to the downstairs bathroom, refusing to look at Lily. He stands under the hot spray of water for longer than he needs to, letting the warmth spread and loosen his tense shoulders. He washes his hair – Remus has packed his shampoo and conditioner, the saint. He feels like a different person when he turns off the shower.
After, Sirius pulls on the blue jumper with stars and his softest pair of joggers and loves Remus a little more. He steps out of the bathroom, still drying his hair to an old t-shirt, and has almost forgotten to be pissed off at almost everyone – that is, until he rounds the corner and Regulus is just there.
He looks even weirder than he did last night. Apparently, Regulus has either refused to borrow hair products from James or he doesn’t bother using them, because the curls that looked to impeccable last night are now a messy little cloud on top of his head. There are dark bags under his eyes and a frown on his face, and his clothes – Sirius isn’t sure he has ever seen Regulus dressed so casually before. He’s wearing one of James’ old football shirts and Lily’s yoga pants, and the fact that those familiar articles of clothing are draped on Regulus’ body makes Sirius stop on his tracks.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he bursts out, unable to stop the little laugh that comes out with the words.
Regulus looks down at himself, then at Sirius, then raises an eye brow. “You didn’t think I was going to sleep in the tux, did you?” he asks, voice dry as it ever is, but under the wit Sirius can hear the Regulus who’s just woken up, the one he knows. “I’m not a heathen, Sirius.”
“No, you’re just a big fan of university football.” Sirius turns to look at Remus with a delighted grin, but Remus has barely looked up from where he’s holding Sara in his arms. “Personally, sleeping in a tux and wearing any kind of sports merch sounds equally torturous, but that’s just me.”
Sara makes a small sound, as if echoing Remus’s sentiment.
“I’m so in love with you right now”, Sirius says, and Remus turns to smile at him. Then Sirius looks at Regulus. “You, I need coffee to deal with.”
“Just made a whole pot”, Lily says, walking out of the kitchen with her massive morning mug. “I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be one of those days.”
By the time Sirius has poured himself a similarly massive coffee, served Remus a second cup of tea, and made them both some toasts on a plate to share, he walks into the living room to see Regulus sitting on the couch next to Harry. Regulus keeps turning his head between the TV screen and Harry, who is talking a mile a minute, apparently explaining the entire plot of Peppa Pig universe. With added detail.
Sirius isn’t sure if Regulus has been trapped in Harry’s presence because he’s too polite to just leave, or if he is genuinely interested to hear about Peppa Pig. None of that matter. What matters is that the look on Regulus’ face when he looks at Harry is so different from any other look he’s given since arriving yesterday – softer, a little delicate. He looks younger, too, and there are less frown lines visible around his mouth and eyes. Simply put, he looks more like Sirius’ little brother than he has since he was ten years old, and that makes Sirius swallow around a lump in his throat so suddenly he almost chokes on it and drops his mug.
Maybe it’s really not so terrible that Regulus showed up, Sirius thinks as both heads on the couch turn to look at him.
“Hi, Uncle Paddy!” Harry grins. “Daddy says I can eat on the couch and watch telly this morning! Are you coming, too?” He gives Regulus a quick look, then loudly whispers at Sirius: “Do you think your brother knows how to talk?”
Sirius snorts, finding that the blush rising to Regulus’ face is hilarious. “He knows how to talk, Harry, don’t worry.” Harry looks a little doubtful, but nods anyway. “And thanks for the invite, but I’m afraid the adults need to have a talk over breakfast this morning.”
“Sara isn’t an adult yet”, Harry says matter-of-factly, but he has already turned his attention back towards the television screen. “But she’s still too little to watch cartoons, so it’s okay.”
Sirius gestures Regulus to follow him, then turns and walks through the kitchen to the breakfast nook. It’s a bit of a tight fit, compared to the dining room, but the five adults can still pretty easily sit around the round table without bumping shoulders. It also has the added bonus that, should their voices rise above normal range, the sounds won’t so easily carry to the living room and Harry’s ears.
Remus is already seated on the bench by the window, and Sirius easily slips in next to him, reaching for his hand and bracing himself for the conversations ahead. (Remus’s cane leans against the wall by the bench, and Sirius worries. He makes a mental note to ask later, without the others.) He needs Remus with him, he realises, if for nothing more than to hold his hand through it. A nagging voice in the back of his mind (his mother, once again) tells him this makes him weak. Sirius isn’t too sure he knows how to quiet the voice down, not with Regulus taking a seat across from him, his own (much more moderately sized) coffee mug and plate of toast in front of him.
With a deep breath, Sirius squares his shoulders and begins. “First things first”, he says, knowing he could small talk for hours and they would never get anywhere, so instead he goes straight to the point. “How long are you staying?” His voice must have a sharp edge to it, because James gives him a pointed look when he sets a bowl of fruit in the middle of the table.
Regulus merely sneers. “Why, trying to get rid of me already?”
“Just answer the question.”
A shrug. Regulus would look official, even intimidating, but in the football shirt he looks bored and ridiculous. “Well, since I’m currently unemployed and more or less homeless, I don’t have any plans to go anywhere just yet.”
Sirius blinks. “Homeless?”
“I told you I gave up the flat in Kensington.” He did. Sirius remembers that phone call vividly. He just didn’t know Regulus didn’t actually have another flat lined up already. “Staying with Evan and Barty until their wedding was convenient, but – “
“Wait, hold on, hold up”, Sirius says, holding one of his palms up to stop Regulus from continuing. “Evan and Barty? As in Rosier and Crouch? They got married?”
Sirius remembers Rosier and Crouch. Crouch and Rosier. They were Regulus’ age, strange and disturbing. Something about them never sat right with Sirius, but once he started hanging out with James and avoiding everyone even slightly connected to the Blacks, he hasn’t really spared the two much of a thought.
“Yes.” Regulus’ face is unchanged.
James snorts. “For real?” It seems like he remembers Crouch and Rosier as well. It’s strange to think of people you’ve only known as children as now being married.
Regulus’ eye roll is very pointed, and he gives James an annoyed look. “Yes, Potter, officially and with rings and vows and everything. May I continue?”
On either side of Sirius, both Remus and Lily snort and hide it very poorly. Sirius feels a little spark of amusement, himself, but bites the inside of his cheek as he nods.
Regulus nods, too, mirroring him perfectly. (It’s slightly unnerving.) “As I was saying, staying with them until their wedding was convenient, as I was Barty’s best man very involved with the planning and prepping, but as of this morning, they have left on their honeymoon and won’t touch British soil again until the summer, I think.” He looks around the table, at James and Remus and Sirius, then quickly at Lily before turning his gaze to the table once he sees she’s got her breast out, about to feed Sara. “So, I guess – well. It seems like I’m stuck with you lot until we all decide we’ve seen enough of each other for another ten years.”
The attempt at a joke is terrible, and leaves mostly silence at it’s wake. Sirius keeps looking at Regulus, who keeps his eyes on the table. He looks embarrassed, and Sirius doesn’t know if it’s because he saw Lily’s breast, or because of what he said, or because everyone keeps looking at him. It’s possibly all three, and Sirius feels a little bad about it.
“So you’re staying in Whitehaven, then?” Lily asks. Regulus keeps his eyes on the table but turns his head slightly towards her, politely addressing her. Sirius thinks he’s so weird.
“I don’t really have anywhere else to be”, Regulus says. He clearly tries to sound very nonchalant about it, but there’s a small waver in his voice that betrays him. “I will look for another accommodation in town first thing, so I will be out of your hair.”
He’s scared, Sirius realises with a jolt as James and Lily start protesting, telling Regulus it’s perfectly fine for him to stay in the guest room for now. He’s that we will reject him, that I will reject him again, and he will end up all alone. The thought guts Sirius, stabs him in the heart and twists painfully, and he needs to squeeze Remus’s hand in both of his to not make a sound. From the corner of his eye, he can tell that Remus is giving him a questioning look, but right now Sirius only has eyes for Regulus.
He can’t focus on this now. If he focuses on Regulus’ pain before they get on the same page about anything, he will eventually be the one getting hurt. Sirius swallows as he listens to Lily list all the ways Regulus staying in the guest room is such a good idea, his throat feeling tight and his breathing getting shallow. He really doesn’t want to get up and get an ice cube and draw attention to his issues, though, so he just grips Remus’s hand even tighter and tries to take a steadying breath.
“I think”, he starts, then has to swallow again and start over. “I believe you said you have some stuff for me about my record label.” Regulus nods, his hair flopping and looking all kinds of stupid. Sirius thinks he’d better get that hair routine going again. “I think that should wait until next week. Marlene – um, she’s my publicist and, well, kind of my go-between to the label – she’s coming to Whitehaven on Tuesday, and I think she should be here for all that stuff.”
Sirius thinks she has had her suspicions for a while now. It’s all in the long looks and the strange half-sentences that have left Sirius feeling like something important is left unsaid. He wonders how long she has suspected, or if she has any facts. There’s something nagging in the back of his mind about that, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.
Regulus nods again, his lips a thin line on his face. “I agree, you should have your people here. If I were you, I’d ask for a third party lawyer to be present, too, if at all possible.” The shrug he gives Sirius is the most relaxed he has looked all morning, despite the mismatched clothes and fluffy hair. “I had Barty look it all over already, but I don’t want you to think I’m screwing you over.”
Sirius frowns. “You showed the documents to Barty?”
“He’s a corporate lawyer, and my friend. We can trust him.”
Despite wanting to point out that he doesn’t even trust Regulus enough for there to be a we yet, Sirius just nods and turns to look at the table for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Admittedly, this would all be a lot easier if Regulus did get a room in a hotel or something; that way he could keep the Potter house as another safe space, without any additional stress. But he also knows himself well enough – and suspects that Regulus is somewhat the same – and knows he would do everything in his power to avoid the problem. The problem, in this case, taking the form of Regulus.
So, all in all, as much as Sirius kind of hates the idea, having Regulus stay with James and Lily is the best option for now.
When Sirius looks up from the table, Regulus is already staring at him, and so their eyes lock. For as long as Sirius can remember, people have told them that their eyes are identical – and from a surface level, maybe they are. They are more or less the same shade of grey, and they both have inherited their father’s almond shape and mother’s dark lashes. But where Sirius knows his eyes resemble silver, shiny and almost sparkling, sometimes looking almost liquid, Regulus’ eyes remind him more of steel; strong, hard, also shining but with a darker undertone. And right now, across the table in the breakfast nook, something in the lighting and the emotions that Regulus tries so hard to hide make his eyes look like liquid, too.
“In the meanwhile”, Sirius says, looking away before he gets too caught up in his own emotions, “I guess… I guess we can just. Talk.”
“Talk?”
“We’re brothers. I think we can manage a few polite conversations while sitting in the same room.” Sirius empties his mug of now cool coffee, then reaches for a few grapes from the bowl James brought. “And you need a hobby. You can’t just sit around listening to Harry talk about cartoons, that’s kind of my thing.”
Sirius looks, and indeed, Regulus is trying very hard to suppress a smile when he responds. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“You’ll figure it out.” Sirius has a feeling that James and Lily will both help with that. They might even bring Peter or Alice in as reinforcements. “But you’ll also need a change of clothes; you look ridiculous, I can’t have you wearing James’ shirts. I’ll bring you something of mine that might fit, but tomorrow I’m taking you to Dorcas’s shop.” He doubts they’ll have many pressed shirts or Oxfords lying around, but he’s kind of looking forward to trying to force Regulus into vintage band tees and corduroys.
For a few moments, Regulus looks like he might protest, narrowing his eyes and a frown forming around his mouth again. But Sara lets out a little wail just then, snatching all of their attention, and whatever Regulus was about to say is forgotten in the next second.
“Here, please hold her for a second”, Lily says as she gets up, placing Sara in Regulus’ arms quite abruptly on her way out of the room. “I need to get some more rags before she burps.”
Regulus, to his credit, doesn’t drop the baby, but instead holds her quite well – Sirius doesn’t know if he’s a natural or of he’s had some practice he doesn’t know about, but the look on his face is priceless either way.
“She’ll be back any minute”, James says, a stupid wide grin on his face as he looks at Sara. Dopey as he is, he looks ready to jump in at any sight of the smallest threat towards her, even scooting his chair a little closer to Regulus’. “Try to relax a bit, babies can sense when adults are all tense.”
Regulus doesn’t look like he’ll be able to relax any time soon. “I’m quite as relaxed as I want to be in this moment, thank you very much.” Then he turns his eyes to James, the first little sign of true panic in his eyes. “Wait, what did she mean when she said ‘burp’?”
Lily is late. Sara burbs all over Regulus’ shirt, and Sirius laughs.
Chapter 20: February, part III
Summary:
Worlds colliding, plans developing, names dropping. And a bittersweet ending?
Notes:
there was, once again, so much happening in this chapter that i decided to cut it in half. again. for those of you who haven't been keeping track: this now means that what i originally planned for chapter 19 is now officially been stretched into three chapters. the estimated total chapter count has been raised once more.
another thing: my biggest dream as a fanfic writer right now is that someone would make a skit or edit or reenactment or something based on my story on tiktok. you know the ones i'm talking about. everyone over there is so creative and fun, and i don't make videos, but boy oh boy would it make my year if someone did one on this... and if you have, let me know!
anyway, chapter 20! can't really believe it. this story now officially spans for over 200 full pages on my word document, which is more than anything i've ever written. it's my magnum opus - my ulysses, my les mis, my don quijote. and yes, it does have an eventual ending. i'm just saying that to prepare you guys in advance.
but i'll stop rambling now. go read and meet marlene - properly!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius has barely had the time to adjust to Regulus being in town when Marlene arrives on Tuesday afternoon. It’s a lot of changes in a very short time period, compared to the stillness of the past months, and he’s nervous and jittery when he stands in front of Mary’s pub, ready to show Marlene where to park her car.
Monday was… different. He spent almost all of it with Regulus, compared to Sunday when he left with Remus just before lunch, having had enough emotional turmoil for one day. Remus had been apologetic, first about Sunday morning’s miscommunication and then because the numbness on his hip prevented him from joining them on Monday. Sirius is just glad there wasn’t a full on flare up like he feared, and he managed the shopping trip just fine with Regulus and James, with Sara bundled up and strapped to her father’s chest in a sling.
Regulus’ quietness returned once they encountered other people, which Sirius found hilarious at first but troubling the longer it continued. He can understand it to a point, but something about Regulus seemed to suggest that he needs guidance from Sirius on how to interact with these people – these amazing, kind, genuine people who only want what’s best for you at any given time – and that’s just… strange. And a little backwards. Regulus hasn’t really needed Sirius for anything for years now, but it’s not even just that. It’s almost like Regulus can’t quite fathom that there are people out there who don’t look at you like you’re just another chess piece.
At Dorcas’s shop, Sirius tried to crack Regulus’ shields by indeed making him try on the most ridiculous outfits. He was expecting Regulus to put up a fight, but instead he had merely rolled his eyes, maybe used a few choice words that made James half-heartedly cover Sara’s ears, but he had tried on every single thing that Sirius hauled to the fitting room. Sirius might even go as far as saying that they managed to have fun for a moment, before Regulus eventually bought a few plain t-shirts, a pair of dark jeans, a black jumper, and a simple grey wool coat, then inquired where he could get all of them fitted properly.
Now that he sees it, Sirius can’t help but notice all the ways that Regulus’ cold exterior is just a front. It’s a coping mechanism, just like the ones he has; the awful thing is, this one makes Regulus push away everyone, even Sirius, and has been for a long time. Sirius wonders if Regulus has anyone – besides Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr. – who he still lets inside, or if Regulus even knows how to let them anymore. All in all, he shopping trip felt like something more than just that, and Sirius’ heart feels a little lighter about seeing his brother around from now on.
Marlene is a little late, but she still manages to startle Sirius when she arrives. She parks the car (Sirius’ car, even if it doesn’t feel like it anymore) where Sirius points, then steps out into the side walk wearing sunglasses even though the sun hasn’t broken out through the clouds for five days now. Once she pushes the glasses up to the top of her head, Sirius can see that she looks just as fabulous as always – tired from the long ride, sure, but fabulous all the same.
“Thank fuck for audio books, otherwise the ride would have been bloody awful”, she says in a way of greeting before doing what she normally doesn’t, which is pull Sirius into a brief but tight hug. “Hi, darling. I’ll deny ever saying this, but I’ve missed you. London’s just not the same without your ugly face.”
As strange as it is to see Marlene here, on the main road in Whitehaven, Sirius can’t help but smile when he looks at her. “I’ve missed you, too.” He gestures towards the pub, still smiling. “Come on, let’s go inside before it starts raining again.”
Sirius can tell Marlene is a little bit suspicious of the pub when she looks at the front of it. She’s not a snob, not really; she’s just a Londoner, born and raised just like himself, and Sirius doubts she’s ever really been in a town this small before. She might look like she’s sneering, but he knows her well enough to know that she’s more curious than anything else.
“Tell me again why we’re meeting here and not at James’”, she prompts as they step inside, the familiar space making Sirius feel at home in an instant. He spots the same regulars sitting at their usual table and passes Arthur Weasley with a smile and a nod on his way towards the bar. “This feels a little out in the open for me – and for your usual tastes, if I’m being honest.”
“Pretty much anything we’re going to be talking about today we can talk in here. These people won’t blabber.” It’s taken him a while, but Sirius actually believes it now. They’ll hash out any details about things going forward in a much more private place, anyway. “Besides, Lily and James have a newborn baby at home, and we can have a proper conversation more easily here.”
That’s half the reason. Sirius still doesn’t know how to go about updating Marlene about everything that has changed in his life since they last spoke at length. Where is he supposed to even start? At what point is he just avoiding everything instead of laying it all out?
As it turns out, Sirius doesn’t have to worry about where to begin explaining; Mary makes the decision for him.
“Hi, love!” she grins at him as soon as she spots them coming over. She looks happy as ever, sparing Marlene a curious glance before turning her gaze back on Sirius. “How’s your brother? Dorcas came by around lunch time, they said you went shopping yesterday?”
Despite knowing he doesn’t need to, Sirius puts on one of his less genuine smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, the idiot needed some clothes, he can’t keep wearing James’ hand-me-downs.” He takes half a step to the side, effectively turning the spotlight on Marlene. “This is Marlene. Marlene, this is Mary, she owns the place.”
Mary’s smile, if possible, turns even brighter. “Oh, right! Hello! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”
“You have?” Marlene asks, raising a brow and making Sirius’ neck feel a little hot.
“Of course. Any friend of Sirius’ is a friend of mine.” It’s just something people say, really, but there’s no doubt in Sirius’ mind that if there’s one person on this Earth who actually means it, it’s Mary. She picks up her note pad, still smiling, then looks between them expectantly. “Now, what can I get you? Are you picking up or staying?”
“Staying, please. I’ll get the veggie burger with sweet potato chips, and she’ll have the halloumi burger.” He turns to look at Marlene before she can protest. “Trust me, you’ll want that. Don’t try to argue with me.”
Marlene looks baffled; about the halloumi burger or the entire situation, Sirius isn’t really sure. “You’re the boss.”
Sirius gets them a couple of pints, as well, pays, and then shows Marlene to the last booth by the window, the one that’s quickly become his favourite when he’s not sitting at the bar. It’s out of the way enough that people won’t just stop by on their way in or out, but it still doesn’t make him feel like he’s hiding from anyone. Plus, it has a nice view down the main road towards the sea.
Marlene sits across from him in the booth, giving him a long stare and making him shrink down in his seat a little. She’s always had that effect on him. “Your brother’s here?”
Clearing his throat, Sirius nods and scratches his cheek a little. “Um. Yeah. That’s the other reason we’re meeting here.” He leans back a bit, not knowing if he’s trying to distance himself from the conversation or his brother. Possibly both, a little bit. “He showed up unannounced on Saturday and is staying at the Potters.”
Marlene whistles lowly. “Wow.” She takes a sip of her beer. “Well, that must be cosy.”
Cosy is definitely one word for it. Sirius dropped by for a few hours before heading into town, partly to get out of Remus’s hair during his classes and partly to check up on everyone. It’s a little unnerving how at home Regulus looked there, sitting on the couch with Lily, both of them on their phones and in matching leggings. (Sirius doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Regulus keeps wearing Lily’s clothes. He tells himself it’s just because they must be more comfortable than the jeans Regulus found from he vintage shop.)
“Sure”, is the answer he lands on now, which Marlene seems to understand. While Sirius hasn’t spent much time opening up to her about his family, she still knows enough from being his publicist for so long to understand that the situation can’t be easy. “It’s definitely an adjustment, and. Well. Turns out he came bearing gifts, so to speak.”
“Intriguing.”
“Mmh.” Sirius traces the condensation on his glass with a fingertip, then reaches to the end of the table to get he both of them some coasters. “In short, he wants to sue our father.”
Sirius watches as a whole string of emotions crosses Marlene’s face before it settles on surprise – but somehow not quite as much surprise as he’s been expecting. He files that thought to the back of his mind to muse over later. “And how is he going to go about that?”
“Well.” Sirius swallows around nothing, his throat dry, and takes a gulp of the beer. “We haven’t discussed it much, yet. But I suppose it has something to do with the things you and I are going to talk about in private later.” He doesn’t mean to be cryptic and vague, so he winces when it comes out like that. “What I mean is, he’s come across some documents that he says will be mutually beneficial for us both.”
“Ah”, Marlene lets out, and Sirius can tell she’s not quite as confused about it as he is, or a least she seems to have her own suspicions about things. “Hence the text about a lawyer?”
“Hence the text about a lawyer.”
In the beat of silence that follows, Sirius can feel Marlene’s eyes on him while he continues to draw lines on the side of his pint glass. She’s always been one to study his face for hidden emotions, sometimes to a point where she knows what he wants or needs before he even knows it himself. It’s a friendship born from professional benefit, grown into an intimacy that Sirius has only recently learned to see and appreciate to its fullest.
“You look different”, she says now, making Sirius look up at her.
“I’ve let my hair grow”, he says with a shrug, already knowing it’s not what she means.
Marlene shakes her head in thought. “It’s not that.” She quirks a smile. “Well, it’s not only that. It looks good, by the way.” Sirius salutes her with his glass. “There’s something about you. I don’t know if it’s the break or this place, but it’s been good for you.”
Right on cue, Sirius sees a figure approach the pub on the other side of the window, and his smile widens as he sits up straight. “You could say that. Speaking of – “ he cuts himself off to wave at Remus, gesturing him to come in, knowing in his heart that this is the way he wants to tell her. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Remus is a vision when he steps into the pub, and for a moment Sirius is taken aback by the fact that he’s there to see him, that that smile is for him and no one else. He watches as Remus walks across the space, leaning on his cane (not as heavily as he did this morning, thank heavens), ducking his head down a bit in that way he sometimes does when he wants to appear smaller despite his height. He’s so very lovely, and Sirius doesn’t even have the time to get nervous about Marlene meeting him before he’s stopping by their table, his soft yet eager smile the best thing Sirius has seen today.
“I don’t mean to interrupt. I was just going to walk past when this maniac waved me in”, Remus says, addressing Marlene but sparing Sirius a teasing look. He moves his cane to his left hand and extends the right for Marlene to shake. “I’m Remus. It’s very nice to meet you, Sirius talks about you a lot.”
Marlene frowns but shakes Remus’s hand briefly all the same. “I would return the sentiment, but I have absolutely no clue who you are”, she says coolly, not unfriendly but strictly professional in a way Sirius wants to change as soon as he can.
Remus’s eyes look alarmed when he turns to Sirius, who grimaces and takes Remus’s now free hand into his own. “We didn’t get quite that far yet.”
Before any of them can say anything more, Mary arrives with their food like a short tornado with chips, grinning from ear to ear and visibly very happy to see Remus. “Halloumi burger and a veggie with the chips, here you go! Do you want your usual, Rem?”
Remus startles a bit. “Oh! No, sorry, I really can’t stay, I just came by to pick up a few things from the store. I have office hours in a bit.” Sirius nods to himself, spotting the plastic bag with a logo from the market just down the road and remembering the short shopping list Remus was dotting down during breakfast. Pen and paper, of course, the old soul. Mary smiles once more, then disappears behind the counter again. Remus turns back to Sirius, apologetic even though at this point Sirius knows his schedule as well as he knows his own non-existent one. “I’ll see you at home later, okay?”
“Okay”, Sirius squeezes his fingers affectionately and smiles like he always wants to when Remus refers to the cottage as both of their home, then smiles a little wider as Remus leans down to give him a soft kiss. “Love you.”
Remus grins. “Sap.” He spares a second kiss, then straightens up and looks at Marlene, his cheeks a little red. “It was good meeting you, Marlene.”
Poor Marlene, Sirius thinks, being swept up in this scene all of a sudden. She’s been staring at their linked fingers, eyebrows disappearing under her bangs, and now she turns to Remus once more, her voice surprised and curious when she says, “Well, you too, I guess.”
Remus leaves (Sirius holds his hand for as long as he can, making a fool of himself by leaning out of the booth after him), and Sirius wishes he could have stayed just a little bit longer. Remus has that effect on him, he helps him keep centered and calm in pretty much any situation they have so far been in – and it’s not like Sirius is expecting Marlene to react badly to anything that gives him so much happiness, but he’s still a little nervous about it.
(And yes, the sappy part of Sirius just wants Remus to stay by his side at all times, period. It’s not practical, it doesn’t make sense, it’s actually awfully codependent and annoying. Sirius knows all this; that’s why he’s fighting the urge to just tell Marlene he’ll meet him some other time, to just run after Remus and go back to the cottage with him.)
Then again, when Sirius eventually turns to look at Marlene, he has to admit that it’s probably best that Remus is not present during the conversation they’re about to have.
“Um.” He can feel his cheeks burning hot and red under the intensity of Marlene’s stare. “So. That’s Remus.”
Marlene kicks him under the table. “What?” she asks, then closes her eyes briefly. The second what comes out as a whisper-yell. “I’m going to need details. Start from the beginning.”
“How much detail – “
“All of them.”
Sirius takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He picks up a chip and slowly chews on it. “But, like, before I start”, he says, feeling a little defensive and, weirdly, somewhat shy about the whole situation. “He makes me very happy. Just so you know.”
Marlene’s smile is dry, but Sirius can see affection in her eyes. “I can tell. I just need to know how exactly all this happened – you know, as your friend.”
And so, over cooling burgers and two or three pints, Sirius tells his love story for the first time.
**
Explaining takes a long time – not because anything’s overly complicated, but because Marlene asks a ton of questions and they get constantly side tracked. Their burgers get cold before they get eaten, and other patrons come and go, some with quick smiles and waves in their direction. Sirius tells her almost everything; almost, because there are some details he doesn’t feel like are his to share, and some that he hasn’t even told James. Some things are just for him and Remus, their little secrets, and some are even just his alone.
“I didn’t know how to tell you over text or over the phone”, Sirius says once they’ve put on their coats again and step outside on the wet side walk. “That’s why I waited. I hope you’re not too cross with me.”
They start walking to the cottage. Remus’s office hours have been over for a while now, and he’s sent Sirius a text inviting Marlene over for tea. It’s good for Marlene to know where he lives, both as his friend and as his publicist – Sirius has a feeling she’ll be over a lot while she’s in Whitehaven. The town is very walkable, too, and he wants to prove that to her city oriented brain.
“Of course I’m not cross with you”, Marlene grins. She’s been smiling at Sirius a lot today. “You know me, all bark and just a little bite when absolutely necessary. Or when actual idiots are concerned. And sometimes when asked very nicely.”
“So, like, most of the time, then?”
“Oh, hush.” Beer makes Marlene softer. Sirius has forgotten that about her. She looks around as they walk, taking in the scenery and the cosy looking houses and full yards. “I never would have imagined you settling down in a place like this, you know. But it suits you. It’s like – “ She furrows her brows for a moment, trying to find the right words. “You seem like yourself again. And happy. I don’t think you were happy for a very long time, Sirius.”
A few months ago, Sirius might have tried to deny it; he’s fine, fantastic even, he’s lucky and has the greatest career he could have ever imagined. Hell, he still thinks most of those things. But now, in hindsight, it’s easy to see the parts that weren’t that great. All the lonely nights, the moments where he felt something was just fundamentally wrong with him because he couldn’t just enjoy all that he already had. The days he beat himself up for always wanting more, always feeling like he wasn’t enough or didn’t have enough. (The long, long nights he spent staring at the ceiling in his flat, convincing himself that he was fine, that he was not crying because he missed James or Regulus or something he never had.)
Sirius tries to now remember when things started going downhill, because it wasn’t always like that. For a few years after running away from home, after moving in with James and Effie and Monty, his life was getting increasingly better on an almost weekly basis. Sure, he wasn’t in contact with Regulus anymore, but back then he didn’t exactly want to be; he had things that he was looking forward to, songs to write, demos to record, freedom to experience. He was busy, and getting busier, and then he guesses he just always kept himself busy until he forgot that was not the point, not really.
Marlene has been there through a lot of it, so Sirius thinks he can trust her judgement on this. She was just starting out as a publicist when Sirius’ first album was about to come out, and people actually told him not to go with her because she was so inexperienced. But Sirius wanted to have someone around who was even remotely close to him in age, and he wouldn’t budge, and so he became Marlene’s first client – and her most successful one – and she became one of his dearest friends and most trusted allies.
“I don’t think I was either”, Sirius admits now, then shrugs. “I wasn’t really required to be, either. They needed me healthy and functional, mostly.” He tries for a sarcastic smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. “Happiness doesn’t really sell, anyway.”
Marlene is quiet for a moment. Sirius looks at the clouds and estimates the rain will start once again in maybe in hour; they should be okay, even though he didn’t bring an umbrella.
“You keep saying they, when you talk about the label.” Sirius doesn’t turn to look at Marlene when she says this; doesn’t need to in order to know her eyes are on him, scanning the side of his face for answers. “Like you’ve already decided to leave.”
“Maybe I have.” He hasn’t, not really. But he knows that a lot of things need to change for him to do his job while also continuing to live a happy life, and he’s not so sure his current label is willing to accommodate those changes.
Marlene is quiet for a few steps, but Sirius knows what she’s going to bring up before she does. “You have a contract, though.”
He swallows. “Regulus seems to think there’s a way out of it.”
Again, Marlene doesn’t seem that surprised. Sirius wonders how much she has been looking into things since he’s left – or even before that. Has she been looking for a way out for him, just waiting for him to be ready to take it? If so, why hasn’t she said anything sooner? Surely, if he’s seemed so unhappy with his life, she’s had reason to bring the subject up for a long time now. Why hasn’t she?
But Sirius knows it wouldn’t have been that easy; knows that he wouldn’t have been ready to hear her even six months ago. He’s been blinded by his gratitude towards the industry, towards the people who gave him a chance and showed him a new life when he was barely an adult. They took his talent and his work drive and sculpted him into something the world could see, something he wanted to become, regardless of the cost on his mental health. Even now, older and seeing things in a different light, knowing better, he doesn’t think he would have made things any different.
Without all the pain, loneliness, exhaustion, and darkness, Sirius knows he never would have become this person he is now; never would have needed the break when he did, never would have met Remus with his mind and heart open, ready to begin again. There wouldn’t be all of this, he thinks – knows – if there hadn’t been all of that.
Marlene skips over a puddle in her leather boots, jolting Sirius out of his thoughts. “Are you quitting music?”
“I don’t want to.” Can’t, in a way. No matter what happens in his life, Sirius knows he will always be creating music, creating stories, because that’s such an integral part of who he is. And he knows that Marlene knows that, too, and is more asking as part of his team professionally. “But if that’s the only way to get out, then yes.”
Sirius can feel Marlene’s eyes on him, piercing and intense. “Well, let’s make sure it’s not the only way, then.”
They’ve reached the cottage, and Sirius guides Marlene to the front door, thinking the back yard with the chicken coop might be just a little too much for her. Inside, they hang up their clothes and take off their shoes, and Sirius gives her a quick tour while leading her to the living room, following the smell of tea and caramel biscuits. Remus flutters around the small kitchen, limping slightly but without a cane, and Sirius smiles at the sight of him, something a little tight inside his chest loosening at once.
“Hey”, Remus says, smiling at Marlene. “I’m sorry about this afternoon. My timing was awful and I was in a bit of a rush.”
Marlene brushes him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Hardly the biggest shock I’ve gotten from Sirius.” Sirius doesn’t know if she’s joking or not. He likes to think he hasn’t been much of a pain as a client to her. “But it’s really very nice to meet you. You know, with context.”
Remus laughs, one of those breathy laughs that Sirius loves. “Well, I’m glad”, he says just as Sirius reaches him, immediately shifting his focus and turning his voice softer. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Sirius gets a kiss he’s been craving for since he last saw Remus, then steals another even though he can tell Marlene is watching him like a hawk. “Need any help?”
Just as Sirius predicts, Remus shakes his head. “We’re all set, I’ve set up everything on the coffee table.” He takes the plate of biscuits and leads the way, sits down on the couch and makes sure to leave Sirius a choice between the other end of the couch or one of the arm chairs. Even though it’s not really a question, Sirius still appreciates the gesture as he sits down and leans against Remus’s side, the beers making his mind comfortably cloudy and the warmth of the cottage seeping into his bones.
Marlene looks at them for a long moment, curious and a little baffled, then takes her seat in an arm chair across from them. “I had no idea that Sirius in a relationship was such a house cat”, she says and leans forward to pick up a cup of tea. Sirius likes that she seems so at home here. He was worried over nothing. “Does he purr, too?”
“When the situation allows”, Remus replies, and Sirius can hear the amusement without seeing his face properly. He’s wearing one of Sirius’ favourite sweaters, the brown one with the intricate details, and Sirius pulls one of his arms into his lap to play with the sleeve. Remus pinches his knee but lets him. “Did you have a good lunch catching up?”
“Yes, although we didn’t get into much other than the big ‘I think I’ve found the love of my life’ talk that honestly took me by surprise a bit.”
Sirius’ face feels hot. Yes, he used almost those exact words with Marlene, and he should have known she would blurt them out to Remus the first chance she gets. He just hasn’t really stated it quite as bluntly to Remus himself, and now it feels a little too much, too intense. He keeps his eyes on Remus’s sleeve when he mutters, “Well, took me by surprise, too, but you don’t hear me complaining.”
Marlene snorts, but Remus merely turns his hand to offer his palm for Sirius to lace their fingers together. He does. “Not something to complain about, really. I just feel like I know Remus now, even though we’ve barely said two words to each other.”
Remus shrugs and reaches for a biscuit. “There’s time for that”, he says, unbothered, and Sirius loves how seamlessly he inserts himself in Sirius and Marlene’s shared future in one simple statement. “Right now, though, given that you’re in town for a limited time, I think it’s fair if you focus on work and whatever it is that Regulus has brought with him. That sounds important.”
“Yes, it does.” When Sirius looks up, he sees Marlene frown. “About that. I was going to leave on Friday, but it’s become apparent that I need to stay through the weekend, at least. I’ll call the office in the morning, have them sort it out.”
Sirius feels small. He hates feeling like that, like he’s derailing everyone’s plans, being a bother, ruining schedules by being difficult on purpose. He knows it’s mostly his mother’s doing, even years later, but knowing it doesn’t always help. “I’m sorry.”
“Honey, you need to get it through to your thick skull that you’re important to me. And not just professionally.” Sirius nods, swallowing around something stuck in his throat. “Now, some things we can have done before the weekend, I believe. The lawyer will be here on Thursday, that’s the earliest he could schedule it with such short notice. I haven’t worked with him before, but he comes highly recommended by people I know outside the label.”
Marlene takes a quick look into her purse, then slides a business card across the coffee table. “Alastor Moody. He has been working within the entertainment industry for thirty-five years. I think you’ll be in good hands with him. We can meet up before that, you and me and your brother, and go over whatever information he has for us before providing Moody the documents on Thursday. Sound good?”
It’s a lot of information all at once, but it’s something Sirius has gotten used to with Marlene over the years, so he just nods and accepts the tea Remus pours him. The business card sits on the table, a little intimidating. It looks fancy, but not in the same way Black Industries makes every document fancy and unnecessarily intricate; it’s a muted green colour, with no nonsense lettering, no fancy calligraphy or phony superlatives. The business card belongs to someone who wants to be trusted, whose work speaks for itself.
“And just so we’re on the same page”, Marlene continues, “I do have a concept of a plan for us moving forward, depending on what the lawyer tells us. I won’t say much more on that because I don’t want to get your hopes up, but just know that I came prepared. Did you call Benjy like I told you to?”
Sirius sits up straight at the quick turn in conversation and the mention of his long time producer. “Um. No.”
“Sirius!”
“I didn’t want to call him before I had something to give him!”
Marlene’s eyes search his face. There’s a hungry glint in them, excited, like there always is when they start talking about new projects with her. Sirius can feel an excited tingle run up his own spine, his fingers aching for a guitar to strum.
“And do you?” Marlene asks. Is her voice a little breathless or is Sirius just imagining it? “Have something to give him?”
“I might.” Sirius leans forward and lets a grin spread on his lips. “How do you feel about a double album?”
**
As if Sirius’ life isn’t an emotional mess right now already, he also has to watch Remus pack his suitcase for a three day trip just before Valentine’s Day.
“I’ll drive you”, he says, sitting on the edge of their bed as Remus folds in one last cardigan and zips up the suitcase. “I’ll drive, and I’ll stay in your dorm room for your meetings, and then I’ll drive us back.”
Remus sighs for what feels like the hundredth time that day, and there’s a tired edge to his voice when he speaks. “You can’t. You have things to talk about with Marlene, she’s only in town for a handful of days.” Sirius knows he’s pouting, but he can’t really stop it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done this trip a dozen times before.”
Sirius knows that. Remus has to drive himself to the campus of his university a couple of times a year for meetings and other things that he can’t do remotely. It just so happens that this time, the trip that has been scheduled since early autumn last year is now happening at the worst possible time, and Sirius is left alone in the cottage for almost three whole days, all the while balancing his meetings with Marlene as well as trying to learn how to communicate with Regulus. He feels exhausted just thinking about it.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it”, he says, knowing he sounds like a petulant child as he picks on the skin on his wrist.
“I’m not crazy about it, either. But I can’t really reschedule, and even if I could – “
“ – it would mess with the book tour, I know.” It’s a battle that was lost before he even started, and Sirius sighs in defeat as he falls back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry I’m being an arse about it.”
There’s a thumping sound when Remus drops the suitcase on the floor by the door, and then the mattress dips to accommodate another body. Sirius turns to look at Remus’s face hovering over him and immediately hates the worry lines on his brows and around his mouth.
“I hate that it’s our first Valentine’s Day together and I won’t be here”, Remus says, and Sirius might have been thinking about it the whole evening but it’s really nice to know he’s not the only one worrying about that.
Well, not worrying. He’s not worried. If there’s one thing in his life that Sirius really isn’t worried about right now, it’s his relationship with Remus. “We can always celebrate a few days later”, he says, reaching a hand to push Remus’s hair off his forehead and to thumb away the worry lines. “It’s just a day, really. We can decide to ignore the calendar for once.” He doesn’t say it, but there’s an implication of many, many Valentine’s Days in their future.
Remus looks at him for a beat or two, then presses a kiss to his wrist, close to the spot where Sirius was picking on earlier. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
“We can go to a dinner on Friday. Romantic walk home. Drinks by the fire.” Sirius has already made a reservation to the one fancier restaurant in town for Friday night. He’s ordered flowers. There may or may not be a bottle of Remus’s favourite red wine stashed in one of the cabinets in the kitchen. The late Valentine’s Day is going to be their first real date in the traditional sense, and Sirius is determined to make the most of it.
“Sounds like a plan.” Remus smiles and flops down on the bed next to Sirius, letting him curl up against his side despite the awkward angle and both of their legs hanging over the side. “And I won’t be away for more than two days. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
Sirius snorts. “That’s cute.” Sirius notices when Remus is gone when it’s for only a few hours, like he’s left a gaping hole in his side. It’s not like he can’t manage, just that he doesn’t want to.
Silence falls over them like a blanket, and Sirius rests his hand on Remus’s side where his shirt has ridden up. Not for the first time, he marvels over the easiness of it all, Remus’s hand in his hair playing with his curls, snagging from time to time but never pulling. It’s a silence that only comes when two people understand each other, he thinks, and not just understand but deeply know one another, and it hits Sirius deep in his gut when he counts back the weeks and realises that they’ve only known each other a handful of months.
Every now and then Sirius still gets caught up in the fear of things happening too fast or too soon – because yes, all things considered, this relationship has progressed faster than he would ever have anticipated. He knows his fears and reservations are based on expectations, and those expectations come from people on the outside, not himself. As someone who has worked very hard for years to fulfill those expectations, Sirius sometimes finds it hard to ignore them. But just as they agreed, all the way back in August, not to pretend between the two of them, they have also chosen not to comply by the many unnecessary unwritten rules society lays on relationships.
“I think we should stop talking about time”, Remus said recently when talking about this, “and about what’s too fast and what’s not. We both know it has nothing to do with how we feel.” And something like that is easier to say than to put in practice, but Sirius tries his hardest to keep the words close to his heart, where he can remember them when need be.
“Please take my car?” he says now instead of dwelling on his insecurities, deciding to put his energy elsewhere. “The Fiat is okay, but I’d feel a lot better knowing you won’t be stranded on the side of the road all alone with car trouble.” He doesn’t say it, but he knows they’re both thinking that Sirius’ car (the one that was Marlene's but is now officially his, after a few frustrating moments of shifting through paperwork with her) is newer, safer, and faster. It’s automatic, it has seat heating that actually works, and it’s all around more comfortable to drive. “It’s not like I need it in the two days you’ll be gone.”
Rather surprisingly, Remus doesn’t argue him on this. “Okay”, he says, dropping a kiss to the crown of Sirius’ head, and Sirius wonders if he’s just choosing to not fight him on this to keep the peace. He wonders if that’s what people in relationships call a compromise.
Too soon for Sirius’ tastes, it’s morning. He wakes up when Remus’s alarm goes off and gets out of bed even though Remus tells him five times he doesn’t have to. Remus has eaten his breakfast and is packed up and ready to leave before the grandfather clock strikes seven because he wants to be at the campus well before his first meeting over lunch. It’s a quality that Sirius loves about him but can’t help but resent a little bit at the same time.
“Text me when you arrive”, Sirius says when he hugs Remus, clinging to the back of his coat and wondering if he could still talk himself into coming with. Eventually he decides against trying, steps back, then looks up at Remus’s lovely face. “And call me when you get a chance?”
“You know I will.” If Remus thinks that Sirius is being clingy or annoying, he doesn’t say it, which Sirius is grateful for. “I’m not sure if there’s going to be a quiet moment until dinner, but after that for sure.”
Sirius hates goodbyes, so he chooses to not think of this as one. He stands on the front steps of the cottage in his sleep pants and Remus’s jumper, feet cold inside worn slippers, as he watches Remus get in the car and back out of the drive way. He waves for as long as he can see the car, listens to the sound of the tires against the icy road, and once Remus rounds the corner and Sirius can’t even see the lights anymore the sounds fade, and suddenly it’s very quiet again.
Notes:
oh and yes i love marlene. very much. she's so much fun to write.
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