Chapter Text
Lupin's Cottage, Solva, Wales.
August 1976.
In the distance it takes for Sirius Black to use the Knight Bus to travel from Cardiff to the tiny little village known as Solva, he's seen more sheep than he can count and enough of the lush Welsh countryside that his hands have stopped shaking, and his breathing has evened out to that of a normal teenaged boy. It's been a peculiar bus ride, really, and Sirius isn't sure if he's glad that Remus still hasn't connected his home to the Floo or completely and utterly miffed. If asked the question, "what's wrong, Sirius?" — which was, in fact, asked many times by his caring and especially worried best friend, James Potter — he wouldn't be able to give much more than a small shake of the head and an indecipherable mumble. It's been a peculiar year, he thinks, if that's anything to go by.
But peculiar doesn't begin to explain the fact that this bus ride alone has felt like it's taken years off of Sirius' life, only to abandon him at the end of the road on which the Lupin's reside and suddenly, he's walking with leaden feet that drag as if his destination is going to be the death of him. He shakily lights a cigarette to help calm his nerves as he walks up the long dirt road.
It's an emotion he's felt in excess after living with the special love that Walburga and Orion Black bestow upon their sons, but not with Remus. Never with Remus.
And maybe that's what's made this journey, and day, and summer so fucking peculiar, because for the first time in Sirius Black's sixteen (nearly seventeen) years of living, he's sick with fright – if that's even the right word to describe this whole ordeal – at the thought of seeing his best friend, Remus Lupin.
Although this revelation has dropped on him like a twenty-tonne weight, Sirius suspects that this has been a long time coming, because although he's never been afraid of Remus — of Moony, his Moony — he's well versed in the nerves that have seemed to accumulate over time and the bubble of... of something that builds in his chest and begs to burst. It's become the norm, for hands to tremble and lungs to fail in the presence of the werewolf, and Sirius cannot, for the life of him, figure it out.
At least that's what he tells himself, because Sirius is anything but oblivious and he suspects.
Oh, how he suspects, but the idea of him coming to terms with that, is beyond him.
And so, Sirius is perfectly content to let the suspicion fester and to pay no mind to his racing pulse or the way his head, inexplicably, spins whenever Remus laughs, or speaks, or does anything completely in and out of the ordinary.
He stands on the creaky, wooden steps of the Lupin's Cottage for a good five minutes, almost as if he has the choice to turn back around and return to James, who is a relatively safe presence and doesn't cause any undesired stomach churning. But he stays put and instead, Sirius raises a fist to the worn door and raps his knuckles three times.
His blood burns like fire in his veins and he's afraid that his chest is going to collapse from the incessant beating of his heart. This is it.
What it is, Sirius isn't so sure.
And then, it's Remus who looks so lovely and domestic with his unruly curls and threadbare jumper, that Sirius thinks his knees might give out for a split second. He grits his teeth subtly, willing himself to stay put and for the stupidity of his brain – or rather his heart – to disappear.
And still, Sirius grins, because no matter the nervousness that seems to follow, he's always ecstatic to see his Moony.
"Miss me?" Sirius says cheekily and Remus matches his grin in both size and brilliance, before opening the door a little and gesturing for Sirius to step in.
"Well, come on in then, can't have you standing out there like the mangy mutt you are." Sirius shouts in protest and looks at Remus for half a second before succumbing to the only thought pulsing in his brain, in time with his heartbeat. He pulls his thin friend into a bone-crushing hug and hopes that Remus won't let go. Remus chuckles slowly, lips so close to Sirius' ear that they promptly turn a faint shade of pink. He immediately pulls back, and Remus is still smiling warmly.
"How was the trip?" He asks and Sirius can tell he's slightly apologetic, no doubt fretting that not having his home on the Floo Network presents itself as a major inconvenience for his Pureblood friends. Sirius brushes it off with a wave of the hand.
"Forgot how many sheep you have here, Moony. Pleasantly surprised, I must say." Remus visibly relaxes and laughs softly, taking Sirius' bag a little forcefully. He lets him, only because it's Remus' home and Sirius supposes that insisting on taking his own bags – all the while trampling over Remus' kind hospitality – would simply be the impolite thing to do.
"Always so easy to please, old Padfoot." Remus shakes his hair out of his eyes and Sirius' gaze focuses on the strands that seem to be causing him so much annoyance. Another huff from Remus sends the tawny curls fluttering into the air, before settling right back to their original position. Sirius, impulsively, tugs one particularly long strand. Remus stops and eyes him with confused amusement.
"Gotten long." Sirius explains lightly, shrugging his shoulders and pretending that he doesn't notice the rapid twitching in his chest. He turns away slightly in an effort to control his breathing. Remus laughs, a soft, boyish sound that Sirius just can't help but smile at.
"You say that as if you're shocked." He smirks playfully. "You saw me only four weeks ago, Pads, can't say that's had much of an effect." Sirius crosses his arms, suddenly defensive that Remus finds it so odd that he's noticed the length of his hair.
"Guess it never caught my attention before, my dear Moonbeam. Must've been too preoccupied with trivial matters to have noticed your ridiculously good looks." Sirius plays off his wariness with a little laugh and Remus, always terrible at receiving compliments – even if it was meant as a joke, albeit not a good one – flushes before rolling his eyes and quickly gesturing up the stairs. Sirius grins, very glad for the convenient topic change, and bounds up the stairs, Remus close on his heels.
"Your room, my Lord." Remus pushes the door to his room and speaks in a swotty accent that sounds so ridiculous that Sirius finds himself believing that he must've learned it from someone posh. Himself, maybe. He sniffs in a scarily accurate impression of his Mother and gingerly takes the bags from Remus' grip. It's a joke that he's long since perfected, even if it does make his stomach turn and his heart ache.
"I expect to be roused from my slumber at precisely a quarter past three, Lupin." Sirius mimics Remus' mocking accent, raising the pitch a couple octaves higher. Remus laughs and pushes Sirius inside their now shared room.
"It's so unsettling watching you mimic your Mother." He shudders dramatically as Sirius places his bags in the corner of the room, beside a small wooden desk. He drinks it all in, having forgotten that Remus' room is the exact definition of chaos and that everything – all the trinkets and knick knacks that Remus has collected over the years – has a place that only Remus knows. The walls are painted a faded blue and the mismatched furniture that's crammed into the small room are almost an eyesore against the wooden floors. Every flat surface holds what Sirius calls The Stacks – papers and books placed upon each other in piles that are dangerously high and slanted – in which he's seen plenty back at Hogwarts.
With Remus mentioning his Mother, Sirius can only think about how much her aristocratic upbringing would condition her to hate this room and this cottage. Sirius, despite this (or maybe in spite of it), is completely charmed by the whole setup and loves the character that it expresses, loves how very Remus-like it is.
"Moony, you mentioning that horrific woman has left a bad taste in the air of a room that I once previously loved. Now I'm afraid I'll have to sleep on the couch." Sirius sighs and, despite his words, sits himself down beside Remus on the soft bed, propping his back against the wall. Remus chuckles, shaking his head softly.
Sirius finds himself staring at those stupidly lovely curls.
"Oh Padfoot, you do make me laugh. I know you better than you know yourself, as if I could ever believe you'd sleep on a couch." Remus' eyes are sparkling. Sirius smiles. "Far too proper for that."
"Am not!" Sirius yelps, pushing Remus who falls back on to his pillow with a chuckle. He stays still and Sirius wonders if it'd be too much to lay down beside him, to look him in the eyes with their bodies pressed against one another and no blanket of darkness to fool anyone of his deepest, darkest desires. He wonders and wonders and wonders.
But of course, of course, he stays put.
"Sirius, I've had to listen to you go on for hours about how absolutely horrendous it was that James would even consider giving Lily a bracelet that costs less than a Nimbus Celestial for her birthday." Remus shakes his head in disapproving amusement. Sirius can't help but feel a little put off; makes the Marauders look bad, he reckons, that none of them have a respectful appreciation for Goblin's Gold.
"It's just in bad taste, Moony!" Sirius cries, crossing his arms as children often do. He pouts, then grumbles quietly, "should at least buy her a proper gift, seeing how often he waxes fucking poetry about her emerald eyes, alabaster skin, flaming hair! Oh, Lily, my love!"
Remus sits up, an ecstatic grin curling over his teeth at the mention of his favourite piece of terrible poetry – and oh, how Remus loves terrible poetry – written by their very own, love-struck best friend. Sirius feels his heart flutter at the sight of Remus' bright, crooked smile. His stomach plummets and he allows himself to think that maybe James isn't the only idiot who's fallen victim to the terrible feeling.
He gives that thought exactly half a second to swim around freely in his head, before forcefully shoving it back into the dark corners of his brain.
"With hair that matches the fire in the Common Room, where we spend our time," Remus monologues dramatically, reminding Sirius of the very first time they found the poem tucked under James' pillow on a crumpled piece of parchment. "Eyes that are so bright and so green, they remind me of the Forbidden Forest and emerald... combined. A swirled cauldron of beauty!"
"Your pale skin is as soft as a cloud, which I hope to someday hold!" Sirius cuts in, seeing as laughing at James' misfortunes has become a particularly entertaining pastime of his. "The flower of the Gryffindor Tower..."
"My Lily Evans!" They chorus together, falling back on the worn sheets in fits of laughter. Sirius wipes his eyes, hiccuping between breaths.
"If she ever finds that..." He trails off, leaving Remus to fill in the blanks. Remus' eyes go wide, before snickering loudly.
"She'd end it, Padfoot, I'm certain." He nods earnestly, trying to seem as serious as he can with giggles escaping his lips between words. "Lily reads Plath and Cummings, James soils the good name of poetry!"
"James soils the good name of everything, Moony, it's his token talent. If James ever had a slogan," Sirius hops to his feet, if only to calm the electric pulsing of his skin that flares up every time Remus' body is near his own and puts on his best Quidditch commentator voice. "And on the pitch, we have the great and idiotic James Fleamont Potter, as good at Quidditch as he is at mucking things up in the name of love!" Remus is holding his sides with laughter and Sirius' heart can't help but flutter at the sight. He sits down gingerly on the bed, a little bit further than before.
"Oh, Prongs." Remus sighs happily, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "What would we do without the spoiled bastard?"
"Die of boredom, that's for sure." Sirius replies, a grin forming on his face. He stops, forcing himself to think about the moment that he's experiencing and cherish it, maybe tuck some part away for whenever he's feelings particularly sad or self-deprecating. Sirius uses this technique a lot, something he's found that's helped with the past trauma in his life. He often uses memories of Remus – James and Peter, too – but it seems even his subconscious knows that Remus holds a special place in his heart.
"We still need to figure out our sleeping situation." Remus breaks the comfortable silence, and Sirius feels like a lazy house cat disrupted from its midday lounge. He looks at Remus with furrowed brows.
"How d'you mean?"
"I mean," Remus laughs quickly, and if Sirius hadn't known any better, he'd even say somewhat nervously. "We're hardly thirteen-year-old boys anymore. I don't think two practically grown men can fit in such a small space."
Sirius' heart plummets and he mentally scolds himself; there's really no need to get so worked up over a sleeping arrangement. He forces a laugh, dodging the statement. "I think practically grown men is a bit generous, Moony."
Remus laughs, waving his hand lazily. "No matter, what's your sleeping area of choice?"
Sirius feels put off once again and turns his head so that Remus won't notice the sudden change in his attitude. He'd wanted so bad to share with Remus, but now he realizes that it was stupid to think that that would honestly happen. Mates don't sleep together. It's not the done thing.
It's not the done thing.
"I can sleep on the floor, if that's all right. Grab a couple of blankets, pillows, and I'll be just fine." Sirius offers, not wanting to stray too far from Remus' presence. Remus' face turns guilty as he looks at the wood floors.
"It's not very comfortable, Sirius. I can sleep on the couch, it's no problem. You're the guest." Remus quickly explains, but Sirius waves it all away. He doesn't have to explain to himself why he'd prefer Remus over comfort, and he certainly doesn't want to have to explain it to Remus.
"And what kind of guest would I be if I were to kick the host to the living room suite?" He crosses his arms, giving Remus a stern look. "I'm not changing my mind, Moony." He doesn't feel the need to mention the fact that putting Remus on the couch, with his ever-aching body, would probably crush his heart. He curses Remus for always caring for others before himself.
"At least let me get the cot." Remus compromises, knowing there's hardly such a thing with Sirius' stubbornness. Sirius smiles and sticks out a hand.
"That, my dear Moonshine, is something we can agree on." Remus rolls his eyes but takes Sirius' hand and shakes it firmly. Sirius feels a queasy lightness in his stomach.
"You're impossible." Remus laughs, looking at him in a very endearing sort of way. Sirius feels his cheeks pink and groans inwardly, annoyed at his control, or lack thereof, of certain bodily functions. "I hope you know."
Sirius wonders... oh, how he wonders and oh, how he wants.
—
They spend that first day together inside the cottage, basking in the freedom of no parents or responsibilities. They heat up some stew that Remus' mother had put together before leaving for Romania. The stew's hearty and warm and solidifies every thought Sirius has ever had about Remus' home life. He's a little jealous, he must admit, only because he yearns for the loving childhood that seems to have taken place here, as well as at the Potter's.
But, of course, Sirius takes the time to remind himself that Remus and James didn't exactly have comparable childhoods.
Despite the ability to do whatever they please, Sirius is almost sad that Remus' parents aren't here. He keeps expecting to see Hope humming to herself in the kitchen or Lyall with his newspaper and cigar at the table. As much as Sirius pretends to despise it, he craves the structure that parents give, but in the way that the Lupins and the Potters do; in a way the Blacks never did.
After they finish the soup and sneak a couple of pieces of chocolate cake — before realizing there's no one around to scold them — they go up to Remus' room, where Remus has already managed to lay out the cot in a somewhat inviting manner, with blankets tucked in at the sides and pillows looking properly fluffed. Sirius praises him so dramatically that Remus tells him he fears his eyes will stay stuck in the back of his head from all the rolling they've had to endure. Sirius quiets down after that.
The first night is spent with the two facing each other in their respective beds, talking until the early hours of the morning. Remus suggests they get some sleep, because he's got a big day planned for when they wake up.
Sirius is so filled with excitement that he almost forgets about the empty space between their fingertips.
—
"Something smells good." Sirius announces upon walking into the tiny kitchen that's so adorably quaint with pops of yellow and blue. It has Hope Lupin written all over it, much like everything else in the cottage. "Look at you, all domestic and such."
It's true, Remus is the epitome of domesticity with a spatula in hand and worn pyjama bottoms hanging off his waist. Sirius imagines an apron on his friend's body, preferably one with frills, and nearly laughs out loud. The sun is shining through the windows and through his curls, looking so golden that Sirius is convinced someone has stolen his breath.
"Funny, Pads, and if I wasn't down here, all domestic and such, I'd have a whinging Animagus on my hands complaining of starvation." Sirius snorts, impressed as Remus flips the bacon with ease. He sits at the well-loved kitchen table and puts his chin in his hands, watching Remus with a small smile. "James owled, said Lily's parents had to cut the vacation short for reasons... something to do with Lily's sister and her boyfriend, I think. He'll be here in a week."
"And Peter?" Eyes still trained on Remus.
"A week as well, wasn't able to convince his mum to not force him to visit his great-aunt." Sirius laughs loudly and finally takes his eyes off the golden boy, a voice nagging in the back of his mind. Something's different, he thinks, something's strange. "Poor Pete, he'll be covered in red lipstick stains by the time we see him. We'll have to throw the rat to the sewers, have him wash up while he's down there." Sirius grins as Remus laughs, a small, twinkling laugh, accompanied by an exasperated shake of his head.
"He doesn't like those jokes, Padfoot. You know he's insecure about them," Remus says somewhat accusingly, flipping another piece of bacon. Sirius is still so focused on what's so terribly strange that his mind doesn't have much time to focus on Remus' words. "It's demeaning."
"Tough love, Moony. It'll do Wormtail some good." Then, he realizes it. His breath catches in his throat, how had he not noticed?
And now, it's all he can see, the sunlight gleaming not through his delicate curls this time, but off the silvery scars that decorate his golden skin. Sirius has always been fascinated by Remus' scars, finds beauty in the things that Remus hates the most about himself. Maybe, it's because Moony thinks they're ugly, thinks they make him a monster, when Sirius knows that nothing, no one could ever do such a thing. Maybe, it's because Sirius has scars of his own, though not quite as obvious, and not quite as wild.
Maybe, it's that Sirius thinks that every inch of Moony is beautiful, even the parts that are unconventionally so, and that they're more alike than they seem, that they'll always have these memories hidden under their skin that tie them together.
Sirius clenches his fists. This month is going to break him, going to put cracks in the walls he's so carefully placed around his thoughts and emotions regarding Remus, regarding his best friend.
The realization is enough to have his heart quiver with fear, stopping abruptly in his ribcage.
"Sirius?" He's snapped out of his deep train of thought by a concerned looking Remus, who's turned his back on the bacon and has taken to staring at Sirius with wide eyes. "Were you even listening?"
"So—" His mouth is dry. Sirius clears his throat and tries again. "Sorry, mind repeating yourself?" He takes his eyes off of Remus' chest and focuses on his face. It's quick, but he notices — the flash of hurt, the clenched jaw.
"Oh," Remus sighs and shakes his head, sad almost. Sirius can't help but feel as if he's done something terribly wrong. He wrings his black t-shirt with damp hands. "I see." Remus' voice is quiet, and he turns back to the stove, shutting it off with a little more force than necessary.
"I was going to put one on you know but thought that maybe you wouldn't mind because it was just us two and... I- I just thought we were past this." Remus' voice sounds almost frantic, and Sirius is taken aback, watching the boy pace furiously.
"Moony, what're you on about?"
"The scars!" He whips his head to stare Sirius in the eyes and his heart aches at the naked shame and hurt on Remus' face. His face crumples and he shakes his head angrily when Sirius doesn't respond. "Forget it— I'll go put on a shirt. Sorry that they make you so uncomfortable."
Sirius is suddenly filled with so much panic that he jumps to his feet, knocking his chair back forcefully. It startles Remus enough to stop him for a moment. A moment is all Sirius needs.
"No!" Hands claw at the back of Sirius' throat, and he hates himself for staring, for not being careful enough, for making Remus hate his body more than he already does. It's the one thing he could never do, indulge Moony's thoughts on being a monster. "Don't... please."
His voice is softer now and Sirius looks at Remus in a way so gentle, so tender, he's afraid Remus might be able to finally see the swirling mess of feelings he has for the boy. And so, Sirius, guarded by both nature and nurture, breaks the eye contact and instead rips off his own shirt, dropping it on the floor with a nervous smile.
"I think they're—" Don't you dare say beautiful, you wretched boy. The voice sounds suspiciously like his Mother's and he feels nauseated for a moment. "They're wicked, Moony. My— they remind me of you, you know." It's a ridiculous comparison, because Sirius barely has any scars, certainly not when compared to Remus. But if one were to look closely at Sirius' seemingly perfect porcelain skin, they'd be able to see the silvery threads that shimmer beneath the surface like lightning bolt strikes, snaking over limbs and through his veins. The kind of marks that come only from Dark Magic, the kind that can't be healed. The kind of marks that come from your Father flicking his wand, muttering crucio, with a sigh — because it's a tedious chore to discipline your child — in the same casual sort of way that someone may flick their wand to fold the laundry or scrub the dishes.
Remus laughs quietly, drily but stops his pacing.
"They shouldn't, Sirius. It's... it's not as if yours are ugly... nothing about you is ugly, Pads." Remus' voice falters, almost as if he regrets what he said. Sirius' heart stops and he has to look away to keep from revealing his own secrets. He knows this, of course. He has the kind of beauty that gets him stopped in the streets, but to hear Remus say it, it takes his breath away. "But they're not from happy memories. I don't want to be associated with that... with them."
"They remind me of you," he repeats, very much like how he did in Third Year with a thin, nervous boy beside him on the fifth week of the school year. Both shirtless, both bearing their hearts for the other to see. "Because of your strength... and mine, Moony. They're ours, we own them — they don't own us. I won't let them."
Remus smiles shyly and looks down at the ground. Sirius doesn't look away, feeling a fire in his chest that he's never felt before.
And so, he says it, "they're beautiful, Remus."
You're beautiful, Remus. The words are unspoken, and he wonders if Remus even knows they're there.
And Merlin only knows he means every single syllable of that sentence. Remus looks up, a sparkle in his eyes and a smile that Sirius has only seen several times before. In that moment, things seem almost intimate.
The thought sends shivers down Sirius' spine, and he has trouble deciding whether he likes it or not.
And still, neither one puts their shirts back on for the rest of the morning.
—
"Remus, you've done it! I've completely fallen in love!" Sirius exclaims, taking in the charming quaintness of Remus's seaside hometown. Remus had driven them in his dad's '67 Fiat 125, which Sirius found equal parts endearing and exhilarating. He had wanted to light them both a cigarette for the drive but was immediately told no by Remus who had said that his parents did not know about his filthy habit, and he intended to keep it that way.
The drive had only taken about fifteen minutes, much to Sirius' disappointment, but was, luckily, completely forgotten about when they reached Solva.
If Sirius was being held captive by a giant troll and it managed to grunt out that it would let him free, on the condition that he could only pick one place to live for the rest of his life, Sirius would choose here. He would choose the magic that the sea is made up of; that kind of old magic that only his ancestors would ever know the meaning of. He would choose the small-town camaraderie of the smiling residents and their narrow, coloured homes.
He would choose here, and he would choose Remus, which is a ridiculous thing to even think because the troll never demanded that Sirius pick only one person.
"Sirius, we've been here all of five minutes," Remus laughs, "I'm just now finding a place to park the car."
"Love at first sight, Moony." Sirius' breath catches in his throat at the words that have somehow managed to escape every filter of his brain and make themselves known. The words that are a little too close to something for comfort. His cheeks burn and he jumps out of the car before Remus has turned off the engine and is already looking around excitedly, seaside air clearing his mind exactly how he had hoped it would.
Remus laughs again as he shuts the door behind him and locks the car. Sirius takes in the small town with wide eyes and looks back at Remus with a grin across his face.
"Moony!" He exclaims, running back to his friend and tugging his arm insistently. "You live here! You live here! I live in bloody London, with all the smog and the dirt and— and the stars! I bet the night skies here are filled with millions of fucking stars! Now tell me how that's fair?" Remus smiles, looking around with a smidge of pride. Sirius likes that colour on him.
"Sirius, you lived — as in past tense — in London. Now you live in Potter Manor, which is situated in the gorgeous English countryside, where Mrs. Potter regularly dotes on you." Sirius opens his mouth to protest, but Remus cuts him off with playful exasperation. "And don't even say she doesn't, because I, too, write to James. It's brought him great sorrow, Pads, I hope you know."
Sirius rolls his eyes, keeping the warm smile that he's now deemed apart of The Moony Effect. The Moony Effect: also known as the reason why Sirius gets all hot and giddy inside. Also, the cause of the fucking stupid, girly, queer butterflies that have seemed to have inhabited Sirius' stomach for as long as he can recall knowing Remus.
But right now, he can't bring himself to care how absolutely ridiculous his, for a lack of a better word, feelings are for his scarred friend. He enjoys how both he and Remus — who's childhoods have been shit on by the universe or whatever higher powers may be out there — can speak of it, without really speaking of it. It's casual and acknowledged, as if it were a fact in a textbook, unlike when Sirius brings up 12 Grimmauld Place around James — reminder, whom he loves more than life itself — and is forced to endure those wide brown eyes that look at him with so much sadness Sirius thinks he might explode.
They're two sides of the same coin, in many ways. Shitty childhood, traumatic events, scars that are forever etched onto their once innocent bodies. But their circumstances churned out different people; where Sirius is brash and reckless, Remus is thoughtful and reserved. It's his biggest weakness, Sirius knows, that he doesn't fucking think.
Sometimes — when everyone else is asleep and there's only the moonlight and Sirius' thoughts waltzing around their dorm room — he thinks, in some ridiculous and frightening type of way, that maybe Remus completes him.
And then he immediately shuts down that thought, because Sirius is not a twat, and he's not a bird, and he's certainly not a lovesick fairy. His Mother would've made sure of that.
His Mother did make sure of that.
Sirius grimaces, upset that his Mother, once again, has brought a dark cloud on something so gorgeous and light. He bites the inside of his cheek — hard.
His Mother made sure of nothing of the sort.
Sirius shakes his head once more, clearing himself of the thoughts that manage to dig their dirty, little claws into his impressionable brain at the most inconvenient of times. He takes a deep breath, reminds himself where he is and who he's with, before looking back at Remus with excitement.
"Well then, it's your show, Moony." Sirius sweeps in front of him in exaggeration. "Lead the way."
—
"Bye, Luc." Remus calls over his shoulder as they leave the trinket shop Sirius had shown interest in. "Thanks for the sweets."
Sirius pops a candy twist — a Muggle sweet that Remus insisted he try — into his mouth and looks at Remus with a small smirk. Remus cocks his head, reminding Sirius very much of his furry counterpart.
"What?"
Sirius shrugs, chewing thoughtfully on another twist before offering the bag to Remus with false innocence written all over his face.
"I don't want a twist, you wanker." Remus shoves at the sweets with a roll of his eyes. "What's got you acting so strange? And why're you looking at me like that?" Sirius shrugs again, a small smile threatening to peak through.
"It's just awfully endearing, my dear sweet Moonpie." Sirius coats his voice in syrup and pinches Remus' cheeks, cooing to add insult to injury. "You're just so... Welsh."
Remus bats his arms away, laughing as Sirius tries to hug him like an overbearing aunty might.
"Fuck off," he says with a smile.
"Just taking the piss, Moony. I actually quite like it, you know, your accent gets real thick." Sirius grins, offering him the last twist. Remus takes it with an embarrassed smile.
"I guess I've never really noticed." He rubs the back of his neck with long fingers and Sirius is elated to see the light dusting of pink that spreads across his freckled cheeks. Suddenly all he wants to do for the rest of his life is comment on Remus' accent, but before Sirius can bring it up again, something else has caught Remus' eye. "That's where I work during summer hols."
Remus nods across the street and says it so casually, so matter-of-factly that Sirius almost misses the comment. He stops in his tracks and looks over at a small storefront that reads Erwood's Pages in a loopy font on the crooked sign above the door. The 'building' is actually just a small cottage that's managed to plop itself right in the middle of the village and look so incredibly quaint, with ivy crawling up it's well-worn white exterior and colourful plants decorating the garden surrounding the pathway to the door.
Sirius gapes, delighted to see what Remus gets up to during the holidays and that he's not just at home sniffing books.
Except...
"It's a bookshop." Sirius doesn't mean to say it the way he does, but his words fall flat and a flash of annoyance flits across Remus' previously sheepish features.
"Quite perceptive you are." The words are defiant and defensive, and Sirius wants to curse his brain. His stupid, idiotic, thoughtless brain.
"I don't mean it like that, Moony," he backtracks, smiling apologetically at his best friend who looks doubtful. "Oh, come off it, Remus." Sirius shoves him playfully, delighted when a small smile from Remus resurfaces. "It's fitting, but in a good way. Bet you get all the birds around here with your quiet, sensitive cliché."
He says it only to lighten the mood, despite the sour taste it leaves in his mouth. Luckily, it does, and Remus is now chuckling beside him.
"You're right, Sirius. I base my entire personality on some outdated cliché in the hopes that all the girls from my hometown will swoon when they see me." Sirius laughs, tugging Remus across the street until they're at the end of the cobblestone walkway.
"I'd say I do the same thing, but we both know the only girls I ever saw during the Hols were Bellatrix and Narcissa." He shudders, both dramatically and not dramatically enough at all. "So, that's entirely out of the question."
"I should hope so." Remus jokes, before gesturing to the building. "But, yeah, a bookstore, where boring, old Moony keeps busy when his idiotic friends aren't around to get him in trouble." Sirius snorts. "Ma's friends with the owner, so they don't ask too many questions when I need to take time off. It's nice, actually. I really enjoy it."
"Wow, quite the motivational speaker you are, Remus. Almost makes me want to get a job of my own," Sirius jokes. Remus laughs loudly.
"The day you get a job is the day that I no longer have my monthly afflictions, you aristocratic wanker." Remus opens the door for Sirius, both laughing as they enter the shop. Sirius takes it all in and can immediately see how this small bookshop has charmed Remus into working for it. The books look worn, and Sirius can only guess that it carries those second-hand books that Remus is always professing his love for — 'it's the authenticity, Sirius, you wouldn't understand'. It's a cluttered space, with shelves and shelves of books, so many that Sirius feels a little claustrophobic. There's one large window at the far end of the store that calms him down a bit and a large checkout counter at the opposite end of the window with a very pretty girl working the till. That's a bonus that Sirius can still appreciate, even if you take into consideration certain complications.
She jumps to her feet at the sound of their voices and the bell that alerted their entrance. A bright smile graces her lips and she's already bounding around the counter.
"Remus!" She gives him a hug, one that Remus readily accepts with a laugh. She pulls back and gives Sirius a once over with raised eyebrows. It's not something Sirius is unfamiliar with, but he gives his most charming smile all the same. She's very pretty, with dark hair and impossibly high cheekbones. Sirius could've mistaken her for a Black, had he not known she was a Muggle. He also takes into consideration that she is neither English nor French and is sporting some sort of Muggle jewelry, hoop type thing through her left nostril; both of which would've immediately disgraced her from the family. "And who's your friend?"
Remus groans playfully. "Tully, meet Sirius. Sirius, meet Tully." He nudges him, face half-serious. "Beware, she's a flirt." Sirius laughs and extends a hand.
"Glad Remus has got some other bad influences besides myself," Sirius jokes, catching Remus' rolling eyes. "Sirius Black."
"Tully Erwood. Pleased to finally meet you, Remus talks about you an awful lot." Remus sputters indignantly. A warm feeling passes through Sirius, and he smirks at his blushing friend.
"Good things I hope."
"Only that you're a bloody bastard who's starting to give me premature grey hairs." Remus tries to defend himself once he manages to maintain his composure. Sirius shrugs, turning to Tully once more.
"I reckon it's just his compulsive need to worry that does that." She giggles and glances at Remus who has grown unimpressed with the whole interaction.
"That I can believe," Tully gives Remus an apologetic smile, before eyeing Sirius dangerously. "But I also don't think you're the angel you're trying to convince me you are."
Sirius laughs and raises his hands in a mock surrender. "You've got me there."
Remus rolls his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sirius stares for a touch too long and has to remind himself to tear his eyes away before he starts having any ridiculous thoughts — at least any thoughts more ridiculous than the ones he's been having as of late. He looks around the bookshop in an attempt to keep his eyes to himself, before nudging Remus playfully.
"You know, this bookshop isn't half-bad." Remus grins and gestures over to the stacks of books.
"Go on then, explore if you want." Sirius does, even though it isn't that big of a room, but because Remus intrigues him in a frustrating sort of way and maybe this bookshop will shed some light on what exactly it is that makes him so awfully intriguing.
Sirius has seen nicer, if he's being honest. He grew up with the Grimmauld Place library at his fingertips, filled with the world's oldest, rarest, and most expensive literature. And yet, this shop holds a charming feeling, and, with the sunlight filtering through the large windows and dust gathering on the shelves, Sirius is engulfed with happiness.
Then, he hears a laugh float through the shelves and looks over to see Remus, smiling at something Tully must've said and it feels almost like he's been given an explanation.
Sirius wants to rush over, to stand a little too close next to Remus and accidentally brush their hands together, but something holds him back. He watches as the other boy talks animatedly with his hands, smiling brightly. He watches as Tully tucks her dark hair behind her ear, a shy smile forming as she looks at her feet, unable, for some reason, to make eye contact with Remus while he tells his story. She giggles and it hits Sirius, hits him like a train — Tully fancies Remus. His stomach coils and suddenly, he doesn't want to spend much more time here, his mind swimming with a million questions.
Does Remus fancy Tully back? Is she why Remus never talks about any girls at Hogwarts? Why he always ignores James' comments about finding himself a nice bird, brushes them off with a small smile and an exasperated shake of his head?
Sirius grimaces, maybe he doesn't want to know the answers to those questions. He sulks back over to where the two are talking, frowning until Remus stops his sentence and looks over expectantly. Sirius plasters on a grin that doesn't feel right quite right before turning to Tully.
"Brilliant place you have here." Remus furrows his brows but doesn't ask questions. Sirius supposes that's for the best.
"Thanks." Tully smiles and the sunlight glints off the silver hoop in her nose. Sirius must admit he's intrigued, so he pushes the thoughts of her and Remus out of his mind in order to keep the mood unspoiled. It's a very James-like thing for him to do.
"What's that you have there?" Sirius taps the same spot on his own nose. Tully looks confused and Remus lets out a barely audible sigh, subtly nudging Sirius' side. It takes him a moment to realize that this must be a fairly normal type of Muggle fashion and that he probably sounds like a complete idiot.
"My nose ring?" Tully plays with it for a second. "You've never seen one before?"
"Uh–" Sirius struggles to think of a response before Remus jumps to the rescue.
"Sirius here is extremely posh, comes from an old money type of family. His Mother would have a fit if he ever associated himself with someone who sports such degrading jewelry," Remus says the last part sarcastically and with a small smirk. Sirius can't help but feel a little put off at how Remus described Sirius' family to Tully, as if it were some sort of inside joke that Sirius couldn't possibly understand. He forces a laugh, that he knows Remus can tell is fake because of the concerned look that's thrown his way. Sirius ignores it.
"Your mum sounds like a twat," Tully says so bluntly and so unexpectedly that Sirius can't help the bark of laughter that escapes. Tully smiles brightly at him, eyes twinkling.
"You're not wrong there." Sirius smiles back, maybe Tully really isn't all that bad. In fact, she's fiery and quick-witted, and reminds Sirius a little too much of certain redhead who, despite his protests, does hold a special place in his heart. "But bugger what that old bat says, I think it looks real wicked. Was it painful?"
"Hardly." She pauses and looks at Sirius with a devilish grin. "You want one?"
Remus snorts, shaking his head and looks at Sirius expectantly. Sirius smirks at the other boy, knowing that he expects Sirius to say no, to think of the ring as awfully queer or something. But far from it, Sirius thinks the ring looks wicked, very Bowie-esque, and he knows it would drive his Mother absolutely insane if she ever saw him wearing one. It's been a while since he's done anything to make his ancestors roll over in their graves. He misses it.
"You know what? Yeah, actually." Remus chokes and looks at Sirius incredulously. Sirius shrugs, "I reckon old Walburga's in need of a fit, don't you?" Remus is still staring at Sirius. Sirius looks away, unsure what to make of his expression. Suddenly a wave of insecurity washes over him, what will Remus think of it? Sirius gives his head a small shake, hoping to clear those thoughts. What a ridiculously girly thing to think, Sirius does not need Remus' validation to make decisions.
At least, that's what he quietly tries to convince himself.
"Well, you're in luck then, because I know a girl who's made a small business doing them. She did mine, you know." Tully goes behind the counter and starts to put some things away. "C'mon, we're almost closed. I can lock up early and we can go find her. She'll be ecstatic!"
Remus shakes his head vigorously and grabs Sirius' sleeve. Sirius' heart stutters so violently that there's absolutely no way he can blame it on anything other than Remus' soft, golden eyes.
"Absolutely not." Remus glares at Tully, before looking at Sirius again. "Sirius, that girl is Tully's cousin and she's done exactly three, Tully's and her own. She'll butcher it."
Sirius buries the confessions that threaten to escape as he realizes that Remus still has a hold on his sleeve. He resorts back to the classic defence mechanisms used for many scenarios in his life, when he's faced with emotions far too complex for his pretty little head to properly interpret or express.
"Aw, Moony, no need to fret. I doubt even Tully's amateur cousin could butcher this." He gestures to his face dramatically and gives Remus a nudge with his shoulder. Tully laughs, joining them after having locked up the register. "It'll be fine... fun even!"
Remus looks at Sirius with an indecipherable expression, before shaking his head with a loud sigh. "You're going to be the death of me, Pads... you and your incredibly impulsive, bad decisions."
Sirius' stomach has itself tied in knots at the meaning of it all, but he snorts. "Don't lie to me, Moony, I know you love it. Keeps you young!"
—
They take Remus' car, seeing as he's the only one who's fit to drive — Tully had explained to Sirius that she has yet to get her permit, to which Sirius gave many encouraging words despite having absolutely no idea what she was on about. Sirius sits in the front beside Remus, watching him out of the corner of his eye. He watches the summer breeze tousle Remus' curls and for a moment he's jealous, until Sirius reminds himself that the second, he starts becoming jealous of the wind is the second he starts relating to James. Sirius knows that he and James relate in many ways, but these wishful, romantic fantasies are not one of them. Sirius has far too much self-respect for that.
But still, far, far in the back of his mind, Sirius allows himself to imagine... if only for a moment.
Because of his eagle-eye gaze on Remus, Sirius doesn't miss when Tully subtly pops her head between the both of them and starts speaking to Remus about something or another that happened at the bookstore. Sirius also doesn't miss when she softly rests her slender fingers on Remus' right forearm. It may have been ridiculous to have been jealous of the wind, but this... this, Sirius indulges.
He often thinks about the girls that too easily flirt with Remus, whether it be over a Transfiguration essay or a Hogsmeade invite. He thinks about their long hair and their pretty eyes, the small, delicate smiles that curl up when Remus speaks to them, because Remus speaks to people as if they're the only ones in the world with anything to say. Sirius thinks about these girls and about how easy, Merlin, how easy it must be for them. They flirt and they bat their eyelashes and everyone lets them, no one stops them, because it's what they're supposed to do.
And so, this Sirius indulges, because sometimes he lets himself feel sorry for the fact that the things he wants so badly in life never come easy for him.
—
They reach the small cottage quickly; Tully having directed them easily along the old country paths. She hops out of the car first, waving them excitedly towards the house. Sirius moves to follow, but a warm hand on top of his stops him dead in his tracks.
"Pads, are you okay?" Remus asks him, amber eyes wide with concern. Sirius can practically taste his heartbeat. It takes all his willpower to stop himself from snogging the life out of the boy in front of him. "You can tell me if you're scared, you know. I might even consider letting you hold my hand." His eyes twinkle.
Oh.
Oh. He's taking the piss.
Sirius snorts, shoving Remus' hand off of his as quickly as possible. "Fuck off, Moony. Just you wait, the first day back, when I'm sporting this fine piece of Muggle jewelry, and I can't even give you lads the time of day because of all the birds that'll be begging for my attention."
Remus throws his head back and barks with laughter. "You do know James is never going to let you live this one down, right?" Sirius shrugs, a wicked grin on his face.
"James still lets Euphemia buy his clothes, I think I'll be quite alright if he doesn't find it incredibly fashion forward." The boys laugh, once again, at poor James' expense.
"Oi, ladies! Quit snogging and get out here, come meet Carys!" Tully calls from the open door of the cottage. Remembering his thoughts from earlier, how Sirius so desperately wished that they were snogging, he feels his face flush. He quickly clears his throat to break the tension building in the car and nods towards the door.
"Shall we?"
"We shall." Remus hops out of the car and rushes to Sirius' side before he can even put his hand on the handle. Remus opens the door and makes a ridiculously grand gesture towards the cottage. "Your poor decision awaits, Mssr. Padfoot."
Sirius snorts, but steps out of the car quite dramatically, feeling every bit like those birds in the old, black-and-white Muggle films Remus had shown him last summer. "Oh, Mssr. Moony, do try not to swoon when you get a look at the finished product." Sirius pretends to toss his hair back, before nudging his shoulder into Remus' chest as the two of them laugh.
The cottage bears a similar resemblance to Remus', but has shockingly loud decor, as if it were decorated blind. Sirius is taken aback at the bizarre and clashing statement pieces that are scattered across the room. A large bust of a woman with a strong nose sits on the side table beside the green couch, a green so garish he has to look away. This proves to be a mistake as he's greeted with the bear skin rug that lies in front of the fireplace, glassy eyes staring at Sirius. He can't help but shudder at the sight, the bear's coat a little too close to that of Padfoot's for his liking.
"Carys lives with our grandparents," Tully explains, clearly sensing Sirius' surprise. "They're... eccentric, to say the least." Sirius snorts, shaking himself out of the stupor the decor had left him in. He supposes he, of all people, really has no right to be surprised by how people decorate their homes. Grimmauld Place had the heads of house elves on the walls, for Merlin's sake. This was quite tame, albeit uglier, in comparison.
"You can say that again," Sirius replies, following Tully down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. The could-be-quaint kitchen is overpowered by the large red table that's placed in the centre, surrounded by multicolour chairs. Sirius has to bite back a comment about finding the kitchen set in the rubbish. He's learned the hard way that most people don't appreciate the aristocratic comments he sometimes let slip.
At the table, in a bright blue chair, sits a pretty girl that looks like Tully. She has the same dark hair and slender fingers, but with warm brown eyes and an easy smile on her lips. The light catches off the jewelry in her nose where she sports not one, but two metal rings, as well as an array of metal all up her ears. Sirius is fascinated.
"Boys, this is my cousin, Carys," Tully introduces them. Sirius flashes a charming grin; Carys looks at him coyly through her lashes. "Carys, you remember Remus. He's brought his friend Sirius from school."
"Of course, I remember your darling Remus." Carys stands up and flashes a devious grin at Sirius, leaning in and pointing an accusing finger towards Tully. Sirius gets the feeling he's being let in on a secret joke. "This one can't stop moaning when Remus leaves for that posh school of yours."
Sirius' stomach rolls in an entirely unpleasant way, his gaze flickering between a blushing Remus and an equally as embarrassed Tully. He gives Carys a tight smile.
Luckily, she turns to Remus before the moment passes on for too long and starts chattering quickly about the year, and how Remus ought to call more often, and how he better catch her up on everything that's happened since she's last seen him. Sirius blinks, attempting to shake the thoughts of what exactly Tully and Remus mean to each other.
And if they're in love? Then what? As if you could ever mean that much to him, you stupid boy. The cold voice of his Mother spits at him. Sirius clenches his fist, taking deep breaths. He hasn't lived in that wicked house for over a year and yet, his Mother still lives inside his head, privy to thoughts he's not ready to fully admit to himself. The irony is not lost on Sirius.
Sirius blinks, almost forgetting where he's standing. He glances over at Remus who's eyeing him with furrowed brows and a concerned look in his eyes. Sirius plasters on a grin that feels too wide.
"Tully tells me you offer certain services," Sirius interjects when Carys takes a breath from badgering Remus about the school year. She turns around, nearly bouncing with excitement.
"So that's what you lot are here for. I absolutely do offer those services. Give me a moment." She smiles widely at Sirius before grabbing Tully by the arm and pulling her towards a door at the far end of the kitchen, talking rapidly as their voices fade.
Sirius knows Remus is eyeing him in a way that means he's going to ask questions. As if Sirius could give Remus a straight answer.
"She reminds me an awful lot of Mary," Sirius says quickly, before Remus can get a word in, "all that talking." A small flash of his best aristocratic smile. See Remus, he wants to say, other than the pressing problem of me finding everything you do so terribly lovely, I'm okay.
Remus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he takes a slow step towards Sirius. He comes a little too close and Sirius feels like he's going to jump out of his skin, heart beating frantically in his chest. He could do it right now if he wanted to, he could grab Remus' face and kiss him until his lips are swollen and pink. He could run his hands through those sandy curls and whisper every soft, heart wrenching thought he's had for the last two days. Hell, for the last five years, really.
He could, but he doesn't... because he can't, not really. Sirius wants to scream, this whole thing just feels so impossible.
"What's bothering you?" Remus asks so quietly and so kindly that Sirius has to clench his jaw to keep from spilling his secrets. He bites his lip, looking deep into Remus' honey-coloured eyes. The walls of the room seem to be holding their breath along with Sirius as he stares into Remus' eyes long enough to convince himself that Remus feels even just a fraction of the same agonizing emotions for Sirius that Sirius feels for him.
He stares, and stares, and stares ... and maybe. Maybe.
The voices of Tully and Carys float down the hall and Sirius looks down at the floor, breaking what he's sure was a moment. He wonders if Remus felt it too. It seems that lately his life is simply a series of moments, that toe the line between desperate longing and cruel reality, neither of which Sirius can tell the difference.
—
The silver colour of the hoop sparkles in the sunlight that filters into the car, reflecting back at Sirius in his mirror. He brings up a tentative hand, touching the jewelry in awe, the metal cool against his fingers. He's obsessed, to say the least.
Carys had been surprisingly competent, for someone who'd only done a handful of piercings prior. She'd sanitized the instruments properly, which Sirius hadn't realized was a prerequisite until Tully pointed out her cousin's fine handiwork. It had hurt, if he was being honest, but Sirius had made a rather obnoxious point of exclaiming how little he'd felt throughout the entire process. Carys and Tully both seemed fairly impressed, Remus just rolled his eyes at Sirius' bravado.
She'd also been surprisingly flirtatious, catching Sirius off guard despite his frequent encounters with girl's batting their eyelashes and shyly tucking their hair behind their ears. What was surprising about Carys, however, was how forward she'd been with her interest in him. The moment he sat down, Carys levelled him with a savage look and Sirius, though he would never admit it, had clammy palms the whole time. She had grabbed his knees and gently pushed his legs apart, slotting herself in between, so close that Sirius could smell mint fanning across his face and could feel her breathing, chest almost flush against his own. She'd grabbed his face lightly, the whole of her hand cupping his jaw like an old lover.
At that point, Sirius wanted to look at Remus with pleading eyes but couldn't do so with Carys so intensely studying his face. So, he settled for a quick glance over at Remus and Tully, heart sinking at the sight; Tully's hand gripping Remus' bicep, on her tiptoes, whispering something in his ear, and Remus nodding with a small smile, barely even offering Sirius a second glance.
Sirius looked back quickly; eyes captured again by Carys' warm brown ones. At least she wants me, he'd thought bitterly. And then, because he could, he tucked a loose piece of hair back behind her ear and gave her a soft smile, relishing in the pretty pink blush that spread across her freckled cheeks. It made him feel like less of a freak, sometimes — knowing he could pull the most beautiful girls, if he really wanted to.
She'd complimented his silver eyes and, when she was finished, examined the final product a touch longer than was considered friendly. She'd even given Sirius her number and he'd accepted — knowing he'd likely never call her, mostly due to a lack of interest in the fairer sex and partially because he has absolutely no idea how to use a Muggle telephone — with a dazzling grin and a hug. He'd gotten so caught up in the thrill of being wanted that he'd almost forgotten about Tully and Remus, the source of his teenage sorrow.
The boys bid Tully goodbye, a hug from both Remus and Sirius, and they left the cottage, Sirius in awe of his new jewellery and Remus very quiet. Too quiet. He hadn't spared so much as a second glance in Sirius' direction since they left the cottage, and Sirius was beginning to grow restless in the silence.
"You and Tully sure seemed to get along," Remus says, breaking the heavy silence. Sirius looks over as Remus stares resolutely ahead. Sirius nods awkwardly, clearing his throat. He can't help but feel, not for the first time this trip, as if he's done something terribly wrong.
"Oh yeah, she's wicked. Real funny."
"Carys, too."
"Yeah, she did a brilliant job."
"Pretty?"
"Huh?" The question catches Sirius off guard, an unpleasant twist rising in his stomach. He presses his lips together, turning his head to the window, and watches as the Welsh countryside blurs green beside them. He resents Moony's train of thought, but he doesn't resent Moony — not at all — and so, he indulges him. "Oh yeah, beautiful."
Remus makes a dissatisfied noise and Sirius looks over again, noticing his tense shoulders and pursed lips.
"You're a flirt, you know. She was eating it up." His voice has an accusing lilt to it and Sirius can't help the annoyance that flares in his chest. Since when was him flirting with girls such a fucking crime? He's surprised Remus even noticed, given the amount of time he'd spent whispering with Tully. Sirius shrugs noncommittally, looking back to the window. His fingers twitch for a cigarette.
"Oh. Guess I didn't really notice."
"She's the first girl you've tried to pull in a while."
"Wh— Merlin, Moony, I wasn't trying to pull Carys." Sirius stares at Remus, brows furrowed, confused as to how he's come to be at the receiving end of an, apparently, interrogative Remus. "Remus, it was just a bit of fun. If you... if you fancy her, I'll back off. It was all just friendly, I swear."
The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and he can't help but feel out of place with Remus beside him, tense with such biting annoyance.
A beat of silence, and then, "I wasn't trying to pull Tully, either."
He's not sure why he says it, but it seems like the right thing to do. Remus laughs sharply — a laugh entirely too cruel — and Sirius reels back, as if he'd been slapped, staring at him incredulously. He clenches his fists at his side, angry and perplexed as to why Remus is suddenly so cross with him.
"Something to add, then?" His tone is harsh, baiting Remus to react. Remus scoffs, shaking his head.
"I don't— it's not..." Remus grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. He shakes his head again, sighing miserably as he turns down another dirt road. "It's fine. It's nothing, I'm not trying to— forget it. Forget I said anything."
Remus turns up the radio, apparently done with their conversation, leaving Sirius irritated and uneasy in the passenger seat.