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Sirius couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that welled up in him when he caught sight of the two figures in the kitchen. Harry, five years old and thriving, was standing on one of the kitchen chairs, half-hopping and waving his arms around in his version of a dance. His strawberry jam toast was forgotten on the table in front of him, his attention focused completely on enjoying the song playing out of the little radio Remus had charmed when they first moved into their little cottage four years ago.
The man in question hadn’t spotted Sirius yet, too caught up in making the tea that Harry demanded every morning but never drank. He was humming along to the song, Queen’s Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, hips swaying as he dumped what Sirius and Remus both considered an offensive amount of sugar into Harry’s little teacup. Remus waved his wand and levitated the teacup over to Harry. Remus’ eyes crinkled when he caught sight of the dancing boy, and he scooped Harry up in his arms and started whirling him from side to side as he sang in earnest.
“Oooh, love, oooh, lover boy,” Remus sang, poking a now-giggling Harry in the stomach. He glanced up and caught sight of Sirius, and instead of setting Harry down to greet him, Remus grinned and exaggerated their movements, dancing as ridiculously as he could without his cane. “What’re you doin’ tonight?”
Sirius clapped as they put on a show, unable to resist belting the words as obnoxiously as possible. Harry’s little face was screwed up with laughter, and Sirius felt a rush of appreciation for Remus, who never failed to step up as the rock he and Harry needed. Sirius would never forget how he’d opened up the door to his flat four years ago, Harry wailing in his arms, to see Remus standing there with a suitcase in hand. His face had been ghostly pale, his eyes red-rimmed and empty, but he’d traded his suitcase for the baby without a word, and he hadn’t left since.
It had taken a while, but now they could have mornings like this. Remus really had enriched their lives—not that Sirius had ever been able to find the words to tell him that. But he really couldn’t imagine how he’d have survived the aftermath of James and Lily’s deaths without Remus there to help him put the pieces back together.
Sirius was pulled out of his thoughts when Remus called his name.
“Hmm?” Sirius grinned apologetically. “Sorry, Moons. Lost in thought there.”
Remus smiled good-naturedly and waved his wand, sending a second steaming teacup that Sirius hadn’t seen over to him. “You tease me about my tea, but you’re useless in the mornings without caffeine.”
“Guilty.” Sirius took a large sip, nearly scalding his tongue, and hummed with pleasure. Remus always made it exactly how he liked it. Sirius himself couldn’t always replicate this taste, but somehow his friend did it every time. He took another sip and asked, “What were you saying?”
“I was asking if you were still available to visit Diagon Alley today.” Remus fiddled with his own cup. “I was hoping to… buy the potion.”
Sirius immediately straightened with excitement, unable to believe he’d nearly forgotten. When the news of the Wolfsbane Potion was first splashed across the Daily Prophet, he and Remus hadn’t been able to comprehend what it could mean. They were both somewhat skeptical, but old Order contacts confirmed that the potion was effective. Remus seemed cautiously optimistic, which Sirius knew meant that he was incredibly hopeful but trying to temper his expectations. Sirius was ecstatic—he loved spending the full moons with Remus, but he couldn’t always do it with Harry as his charge. If he couldn’t find a sitter—or if Harry was sick or having nightmares—Remus faced the moon alone. If the Wolfsbane Potion worked, he wouldn’t have to worry about Remus injuring himself without him there to keep him company. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to leave the cottage, although Sirius knew it would take many months under the influence of the potion before Remus would ever consider that.
“Yes!” Sirius nodded enthusiastically. “Merlin, of course. We’ll make a day of it! Actually—eat up, Harry. We’re going to Diagon Alley!”
Harry, who’d resumed eating his porridge, threw his hands up in the air, sending bits of his breakfast onto Remus’ face. “Hooray!”
Sirius winced and quickly tossed a napkin to his friend, who just sighed and rolled his eyes. “After breakfast, Harry,” Remus corrected. “You don’t want to be hungry later.”
Harry pouted, but he stuck his spoon back into his bowl. “Fine,” he huffed. “But I want to see the owls!”
“We will see the owls,” Remus promised. He cast a sly glance at Sirius, who groaned. Harry absolutely adored the owls, so Sirius knew that he’d be fending off big, green, puppy-dog eyes all afternoon.
“Yes!” Harry was very pleased with that answer and started scarfing down his breakfast. It was such a sweet sight that Sirius almost thought it’d be worth the begging coming his way.
Remus’ tapping on the table brought Sirius’ attention back. “There’s eggs on the stove, if you’d like,” he said. “I’m going to go get ready.”
Sirius eagerly stood. He was the better cook between the two of them, but Remus did have a talent for breakfast. “Sure, Moony. I’ll get the little rascal there ready in the meantime.”
Remus stood and left the kitchen. Sirius scarfed down his own breakfast, beating Harry’s impressive speed, and then scooped his giggling godson into his arms and took him to get dressed. Harry picked out the child-sized robes that he only ever chose to wear when they visited Diagon, and Sirius pulled on a pair to match. Harry was immensely pleased—as he should be, because Sirius had style—and he only looked a little disappointed when Remus emerged in his slightly-tattered brown robes than the deep blue the others had on.
An amused chuckle escaped the werewolf at the sight of them. “What a pair you two make.”
Sirius grinned broadly. “You may make fun, Moons, but if he gets lost, they’ll know exactly who he belongs to.”
Remus’ only response was to throw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. Their little family made quick work of the trip, and soon enough, the three of them were standing outside of the Apothecary.
Sirius cast a glance at his friend. He was standing stiffly, looking nervous. Sirius could guess what he was thinking—his condition was still private, but he’d have to mention it in order to receive the potion. It was such a new innovation that the recipe for brewing hadn’t been released to the public, otherwise Sirius would have just bought the ingredients to make it himself and spare his friend the potential fallout.
He reached out and squeezed Remus’ hand. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “You won’t be the only one asking.”
Remus nodded, but he didn’t look reassured. Still, he squared his shoulders like the Gryffindor he was, and without any further hesitation, he led the way inside. Sirius, anticipating that this would be a difficult trip, had compiled a list of other potions and ingredients he needed to stock up on so Remus could work his way up to the counter slowly. Sure enough, Remus grabbed the list from his hand and began looking for Pepper-Up, which they’d used the last of when Harry had gotten a particularly bad cold last month. Sirius readjusted his grip on Harry’s hand and led him to the back of the room to where the plants and herbs were stored. This was always his job at the Apothecary; Remus couldn’t stand to be near the aconite too long. Sirius cast the offending plant a nasty glare and began searching for mistletoe berries.
After approximately twelve minutes, Remus signaled from some distance away that he was ready to get what they’d come for. Sirius tugged Harry along to the counter, joining Remus. His friend had chosen a moment when none of the other customers were nearby, so Sirius hoped that Remus wasn’t too nervous about someone overhearing.
The employee behind the counter was regarding Remus with mild distrust, which clued Sirius in that Remus had already made his request. Sirius tried not to bristle too much, because Remus always scolded him about that sort of thing afterward, but it was bloody hard—especially when he knew that Harry was about to witness someone discriminating against his uncle.
“Name?” the middle-aged wizard asked, sounding wary but not too repulsed, Sirius supposed.
Remus’ knuckles were white where they gripped his cane. “Remus Lupin,” he murmured.
“Marital status?”
Confusion filled Remus’ face, and Sirius couldn’t help but burst out, “What the bloody hell do you need to know that for?”
The wizard glanced at Sirius, annoyed. “Ministry regulations state that only individuals with lycanthropy who are married may be eligible to buy the Wolfsbane Potion. As it is still considered an experimental potion, they would like to ensure that the individuals who consume it are supervised properly in the case of… unfortunate side effects.”
In other words, Sirius’ mind supplied, they wanted to make sure that someone who wasn’t going to turn tail and run was responsible for the werewolves’ behavior while under the influence of the potion.
Remus’ shoulders sagged. “Sirius has known me for over a decade,” he tried. “He is willing to supervise, and he is well aware of the risks and the care I’ll need after.”
The man furrowed his brow. “Are you two married?” he asked, glancing at Harry, who was watching the exchange with a confused frown. The cogs started to turn in Sirius’ head.
“...No.” Remus cleared his throat, obviously humiliated and disappointed. He started to turn away, devastatingly empty-handed. “Thank you for—”
“What he means,” Sirius interrupted, “is that we’re not married yet.”
The wizard and Remus both stared at him, one with skepticism and the other flabbergasted. Sirius hoped that Remus got the cue to school his face, because Sirius used his free arm to wrap it around his friend’s shoulders and pull him close.
“We’re not married yet,” he said again. “We’re engaged. Wedding planning takes an age, you know, and Remus here’s a perfectionist.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “I don’t see any rings,” he said.
“Ah, yes.” Sirius fished around for an excuse. He laughed, feigning embarrassment. “I admit that I got carried away and asked before I had everything in order. We’re picking out rings today.”
“Engaged…” the man muttered, like he’d never heard such a thing. The bastard probably thought the only spouses werewolves could have were the ones who’d been married before they were bitten. He turned his attention back to Remus. “I can see how this would be frustrating for you, Mr. Lupin, but a lot can happen during an engagement. The Ministry wants to see a solid commitment, and the six months or however long until your wedding—”
“The ceremony is next month, actually,” Sirius cut in coolly. Remus made a sort of strangled sound that Sirius hoped could pass as excitement. “We’ve both had plenty of time for cold feet, if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m fully committed to Remus and I know exactly what I’m getting into.” He pointed at Harry. “We’ve been raising the tyke together for years. This isn't the spur of the moment.”
Right on cue, Harry stood on his tiptoes so he could peer over the counter. He was practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m going to throw the flowers,” he told the man with all the pride of a child who’d been entrusted with a very important job. Sirius was incredibly impressed with the kid’s ability to lie, remembering a little belatedly that Harry had been very taken by the flowergirls he’d seen when they attended Mary MacDonald’s wedding last spring. It certainly was working in their favor now.
And Harry was a miracle worker! The man’s gaze softened when he caught sight of Harry’s beaming face. “Are you, now? That’s very important.”
“Yes,” Harry agreed. “And then we will have chocolate cake.”
Well, he knew his Uncle Moony’s tastes, anyway. Sirius didn’t even try to smother his grin.
The employee was succumbing to Harry’s natural charm. “Well… the ceremony is next month, you say? One month doesn’t make much of a difference, I suppose… and if you’ve known each other for over a decade…”
The plan was going brilliantly, although Sirius suspected that Remus was now leaning into him in order to stay upright. Whatever sold the lie, he’d accept. “That’s right,” Sirius said brightly. “Might as well change Remus’ name in your records to Lupin-Black, save yourself the trouble when we come back next month.”
At that, Remus subtly crushed Sirius’ foot beneath his own, but years of this treatment allowed Sirius to hold back his wince.
“I’ll need documentation of the marriage next month,” the man warned. “Or else I won’t be able to sell you that potion. Consider this a wedding gift.”
“Gladly!” Sirius beamed. “You really are too kind.”
Remus had finally recovered enough to speak up, although he sounded a bit strangled. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
The man actually winked at Remus, apparently too caught up in the joy of weddings to be wary of his werewolf status any longer. “Say nothing of it, say nothing of it—want you looking your best for your big day, don’t we?”
“Er…” Remus looked taken aback. “Yes?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll change the name to Lupin-Black, as you requested. Remember—documentation next month. The honeymoon is no excuse. And you’ll both need to fill out a survey on the potion’s effectiveness, for research purposes.” Remus looked a bit faint at the mention of a honeymoon, but, luckily, the man was too busy rummaging through the shelves behind him to notice. He pulled out seven large vials, packaged neatly together, filled with a blue substance. “One a day the week leading up to the full moon. The last should be taken the evening of the transformation.” The man looked at them both sternly. “One missed dose will render it ineffective. The taste, reportedly, is terrible, but sugar and other sweeteners will nullify the effects.”
Remus was listening raptly, nodding with great solemnity, even as his gaze was locked on the vials. Sirius gave a thumbs-up. “Don’t miss a dose, no adding sugar. Got it.”
The man slid over the vials, and Remus took them quickly, like he was afraid they’d be snatched away from him. The man nodded at him. “You certainly are a lucky one, young man.” Then he winked at Sirius, like the two of them shared a little secret.
Sirius’ gaze turned cold. He pulled Remus even closer to his side and planted a pointed kiss on his friend’s cheek—right on top of a nasty scar he’d gotten in their third year at school. “I’m the lucky one,” he said pointedly, and then he threw down a few galleons and guided his family swiftly out the door.
“Padfoot!” Once outside, Harry put his hands on his little hips. “You didn’t tell me you and Uncle Moony were having a wedding. You kept it a secret!”
Sirius felt a twinge of remorse, but he figured that it was better to lie to the kid than risk him blowing the operation. He was sure that Prongs would understand. “Sorry, sprog. But surprise! Exciting, isn’t it? And can I just say, you did a brilliant job of rolling with the news—we’ll make a Marauder of you yet—”
“What the bloody fuck were you thinking?” Remus hissed, either forgetting that Harry was there or too angry to care. Sirius winced as Remus’ fingers dug into his arm. “Of all your idiotic plans—and there have been many of them—this is the most moronic!” Remus shook his head. “This is outrageous even for you.”
Remus had ripped himself away from Sirius during his speech, and now he tensely, almost shaking from his anger. His mouth was turned sharply downward, and Sirius could tell that he was well and truly pissed. But Sirius rather thought that Remus was missing the point.
“Moony…” He waved his hands around for emphasis. “We got the potion! That sleazeball was going to keep it from you, and we got it!”
Remus’ left eye twitched, much like it always had in school when Sirius earned them all a detention for what Remus (and sometimes James) called “a half-baked plan and a clusterfuck of a so-called artistic vision.” Teenage Remus had such a wonderful way with words. As much as Sirius missed those colorful descriptions, he was grateful in moments like these that he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of them anymore.
“We have now—officially—lied to the Ministry.”
Sirius covered Harry’s ears. “He didn’t know that, Moony. He had plausible deniability.”
“This isn’t a joke!” When his shout caught the glances of a few nearby witches and wizards, Remus dragged Sirius into a nearby alley, distracted Harry with a stone he enchanted into a snitch, cast a muffliato, and lowered his voice. “Sirius. They will monitor me. They will check in. And when they see that you and I are not married, one of us is going to Azkaban—and it won’t be you.”
“That’s an easy fix,” Sirius said, relieved because he’d already considered this. He let go of Harry and spread his arms wide. “We’ll just get married!”
Remus stared at him like he’d just announced that he was head-over-heels in love with Bellatrix. “This isn’t a joke,” Remus said again. “You’re proposing tying yourself down to me for as long as the Ministry demands that I have a spouse in order to take the potion—which, judging by the rate at which anti-werewolf laws are overturned, will likely be the rest of our lives. You deserve to have a real life—don’t make such an impulsive decision because you want me to be able to try this potion. I’ve lived decades without it, and I’ll do decades more if I must.”
Sirius scowled. He really hated this piece of Remus: the one that was woefully resigned to being a bachelor forever because he just couldn’t fathom that someone might actually come to love him. If Sirius deserved a chance at love and marriage, so did Remus. He’d tried to press this point many times, but Remus never listened. The topic hadn’t come up much since they’d started raising Harry together, neither man feeling like they had the time to try and date. Sirius felt guilty; he was Harry’s godfather. He should have taken on more responsibility and pushed Remus to go out more, meet more people. Maybe if he had, they wouldn’t be in this situation.
But that hadn’t happened. And Sirius was beginning to feel the stirrings of remorse as he realized that his grand performance was costing Remus a chance at love in the future, but what was he supposed to do now? Leaving Remus without the potion wasn’t an option. Sirius knew firsthand how much pain the transformations left Remus in, and if there was any chance at all that it could be alleviated even a little bit, he was determined to make it happen.
“Remus.” Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. “You need this potion. And quit worrying about some hypothetical love I’m missing out on—the truth is that I can’t imagine a life any different than the one we have now. Believe me when I say that there is no part of me that wants to welcome in a” —he shuddered— “Mrs Black.”
Remus’ lips quirked upward in a small smile, and Sirius jumped on that show of weakness. “If you don’t want to do this because you want to marry someone someday,” Sirius’ stomach swooped at the thought of Remus one day leaving him and Harry, but he knew that was selfish, “then I’ll back off. But I want to do this for you, Moony. The three of us are a team! Whatever life throws at us, we’ll face it together, as a family. And if it goes south, then we’ll figure it out.”
Remus bit his lip, shoulders slumping. He still looked unconvinced. “I don’t know… this is much more than a favor between friends.”
Sensing that Remus was close to caving, Sirius went in for the kill: he used Harry. “Look at him, Moons,” he said, pointing to the boy who was cheerfully jumping after the snitch. “Aren’t there worse things than the men watching him being married to each other? Look at it like this—it’s a commitment to stay in his life and work together, as a unit, to see him through it.”
“A commitment to work as a unit…” Remus exhaled. “Well, I suppose…”
“Great!” Sirius beamed and flicked his wand, removing Remus’ muffliato. “Come on, sprog, we’re going to buy Uncle Moony a ring!”
Harry cheered as Remus blanched. “What? Sirius, that’s not necessary—”
Sirius pretended to think about it. “What do you say, Harry? Does Uncle Moony deserve a ring?”
Remus glowered as Harry loudly declared that they both needed rings and he wanted to be the one to choose them. Sirius shrank down the vials Remus was still clutching, placed them gently into his bag, and then ushered Harry and Remus out of the alley. He had a feeling that he would come to regret allowing Harry to choose the rings, but he was grinning too hard to care. He couldn’t pinpoint why it mattered so much to him that Remus agreed to his crazy plan, but he felt a little like he was floating on air.
He had to drag Remus into the jewelry store. Harry was practically vibrating, his green eyes blown wide behind the glasses that sat crookedly on his nose. He seemed to take his task very seriously, walking up to multiple glass cases to look critically at what was on display—but not touching them after a quick prompt from Remus. Sirius walked alongside his godson, scanning the selection for something that would look at home on Remus’ finger. The man in question trailed along reluctantly behind them.
“Don’t pick anything silver, Harry,” Sirius muttered distractedly. “Uncle Moony is allergic.”
Harry looked offended. “I already knowed that.”
Sirius bit down a smile. “Sorry, sprog.”
Two minutes into the search revealed that Harry felt the need to draw their attention to the largest, flashiest rings, although he kept to the right color. Sirius attempted to explain that none of Harry’s picks were Remus’ style, but it was a futile effort. Remus seamlessly swooped in and redirected Harry to the other side of the store, quietly asking for his assistance in picking out a ring for Sirius. That left Sirius to his search, and he grinned gratefully at his friend as he ushered the little boy away.
Sirius returned his attention to the display in front of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he was a little disappointed that he had to pick from a selection—on their timeframe, he wouldn’t be able to order anything custom for Remus. And knowing the other man, he wouldn’t entertain the idea of going to multiple stores. Sirius would have to make do with what was in this one shop.
Unfortunately, nothing was catching his eye. Everything was either much too flashy or just wrong. Remus wouldn’t want anything too bulky, too bright, or too obviously expensive. He couldn’t wear silver. But the simple bands felt wrong, too, because they were too ordinary. Remus would most likely disagree, but it felt of the utmost importance that Sirius found a ring that would not only suit Remus, but represent the person he was. If this was the only ring Remus would ever wear—which the werewolf seemed to think it would be—then it needed to be special.
After about thirty minutes, Remus and Harry came back with a small box in hand. Harry was practically vibrating, and Remus looked quite pleased with their purchase. Of course, his smile disappeared once he realized that Sirius still had not picked anything out.
“Merlin, Padfoot.” Remus shook his head in bewilderment. “Just choose one that isn’t worth a small house and let’s go.”
“No,” Sirius said stubbornly. “I’m not doing this in halves, Moony. It has to be right!”
Remus rolled his eyes. “I am not nearly as particular as you are. I’ll like whatever you choose.”
“It’s about more than liking it,” Sirius tried to explain. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words. “It has to be yours.”
Remus looked at him strangely, and Sirius felt vaguely embarrassed, which was not an emotion he was accustomed to. He knew that Remus thought it was silly to try so hard for something that wasn’t real, but anything less felt like he was cheating Remus, who was a truly lovely person deserving of all things, out of something worthwhile. Sirius didn’t budge, though, so Remus eventually just sighed and made Sirius promise that he would meet him and Harry in front of Fortescue’s in an hour, with a ring in tow.
Being on a deadline made Sirius a little frantic. Suddenly, a memory rose to his mind unbidden: James, nineteen and drunk on love, dragging Sirius to every damn jeweler in Britain on his hunt for the perfect ring for Lily. He’d been vibrating much like Harry had been moments ago, so eager to find what he called a representation of their commitment to each other. James would never have settled for anything less than perfection, and Sirius wished that he had the time to do the same. In the end, he decided that the best thing to do was add a small personalization on the inside—still special and unique, but hidden from most eyes.
When Sirius finally exited the shop, there was a gold hammered wedding band with mischief managed inscribed on the inside in his pocket.
True to his word, Remus was waiting outside of Florescue’s with Harry, each with their own chocolate cone. Remus’ eyes softened when he saw Sirius, and he wordlessly held out a raspberry swirl for Sirius to take.
Sirius happily licked the cone, uncaring of the dog comparisons he was sure to get from Remus later, and winced when Remus took a bite out of his ice cream. The werewolf smirked, knowing full well that his teeth had a freakish insensitivity to cold. Sirius dropped a hand on top of Harry’s head, and it was a testament to how far he’d come as a godfather when his only reaction to Harry’s—somehow—sticky curls was a resigned sigh.
Remus moved towards him and opened his mouth, likely to suggest they head back home. Sirius, though, was overwhelmed with an urge to prolong their outing. He wanted to blame it on the inevitable telling-off Remus was sure to give him once they were alone, but if Sirius looked a little deeper, he’d realize that he didn’t want this little bubble of domesticity to end.
He wasn’t ready to ask himself why that was, so he interrupted Remus before he could get the words out. “Let’s go to Flourish and Blotts,” he said, knowing that there was no universe in which Remus would refuse his favorite shop in Diagon.
Harry began to cheer, so Remus wouldn’t have stood a chance anyway, but he still looked at Sirius strangely as he agreed.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked as Sirius scooped up Harry and looped his arm through Remus’. “You normally only agree to a bookshop trip if I bribe you with takeaway.”
“You got engaged today, Moony. It’s your special day.”
If Sirius hadn’t known better, he’d say that the blush dusting Remus’ face was a result of Sirius’ comment, but he knew that Remus could be sensitive to the sun near the full moon. He ushered Remus along so he could get him inside. Right outside of the door, however, Sirius stopped and turned to Remus.
“Put on the ring,” he said so bluntly that it came out as more of a demand. When Remus lifted an unimpressed brow, Sirius hurried to add, “Better to get used to wearing it now. And I did put a lot of effort into picking it out.”
Instead of being reassured, Remus looked wary. “It’s not… excessive, is it?”
Sirius wanted to be offended that Remus thought he’d use the wedding rings as a punchline, but he supposed that he’d forced enough ugly hats and jumpers on Remus in their school days to warrant suspicion. Instead of responding, Sirius pulled the box from his pocket and held it out to his friend. “See for yourself, Moons.”
Remus did as suggested, and Sirius found himself unable to look away. He watched Remus’ reaction carefully, and he was relieved when Remus blinked in surprise and then smiled softly to himself. “I love it,” he said. “I—I really thought you were looking for something flashy. It took you this long to pick out a simple band?”
Remus was teasing, but Sirius was completely honest when he answered, “I wanted to get something you’d want to wear forever.” When that made Remus falter, he took the opportunity to point out the inscription on the inside.
Remus stared at it for a long moment. Harry demanded to know what it said, and Remus softly read the words. Sirius wished that Remus wasn’t so difficult to read, because he was suddenly self-conscious about the ring. He was already pushing Remus with this plan—choosing such a sentimental ring could be crossing the line.
But Remus was still smiling, and he slid the ring on without complaint. “It’s perfect, Padfoot. Truly, I couldn’t ask—” Remus cut himself off, and Sirius squeezed his arm before he could force himself to say the rest. Marriage was a touchy subject, and he was sure Remus had never let himself fantasize about it; this whole ordeal was likely overwhelming.
“You’re welcome, Moons,” he said brightly. Sirius pecked Harry on the cheek. “Now, Lupin-Blacks, let’s go in, shall we?”
Once they had shoved themselves, still linked, awkwardly through the doorway, Harry scrambled to be released from Sirius’ grasp. The kid was like James in many ways, but his appreciation for a good story was all Lily. Sirius followed him to the children’s section and let Remus go so he could roam. It should have been a normal trip.
It was not a normal trip.
Never before had Sirius’ gaze chased every glimpse of Remus between the shelves. Never before had he been more interested in counting the number of books Remus was levitating behind himself than Harry’s dramatic storybook reenactments. Never before had Sirius’ mouth run dry each time the sunlight through the window made the ring on Remus’ finger sparkle.
“Padfoot!” Harry crossed his little arms over his chest. “You’re not looking.”
“Oh.” Sirius swallowed thickly. “Sorry, sprog. Er, pirates were storming the castle, weren’t they?”
“No.” Harry crossed his arms. “That happened ages ago.”
The kid looked like he was seconds away from making his displeasure known, and Sirius had learned to listen to that look. Harry had had a long day; it was time to find Remus and wrap it up. Sirius assured Harry that he was just tired and that he’d love to listen once he was at home with a fresh cuppa, which Harry very reluctantly agreed to. Sirius gathered up all the books Harry had picked out—if Remus saw the number he’d insist that Sirius spoiled him—and then the two of them went to locate Remus.
It didn’t take long to find him. Sirius could pick out Remus’ quiet voice anywhere, its Welsh lilt distinct from most others. It was audible to him now, so Sirius followed it until Remus came into view—looking uncomfortable. Sirius frowned sharply and tugged poor little Harry along more quickly, trying to see what the source of his friend’s discomfort was.
Mary MacDonald.
Her married name eluded Sirius always, something Remus constantly chastised him for. In Sirius’ defense, though, they rarely saw Mary these days, since she preferred to live a Muggle lifestyle with her Muggle husband. He had no idea what she was doing in Flourish and Blotts, but she’d engaged Remus in a conversation that he was clearly unable to extricate himself from.
And it soon became clear why. “—Lupin, if you don’t tell me why there is a ring on your goddamn finger in the next five seconds, I swear to Merlin—”
“Children about, Mary!” Sirius cheerfully interrupted. “Watch that language around impressionable ears.”
The witch in question whipped around, her hand wrapped around Remus’ bicep. “Black,” Mary said, ignoring Sirius’ statement, “when did Lupin start dating? Who did he start dating? This is the kind of life update I wanted to know about—”
“Mary!” Harry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. Too late, Sirius realized what was about to happen. “Mary, Padfoot is going to marry Uncle Moony and I’m going to throw the flowers!”
Mary’s jaw dropped to the floor. Remus’ face had turned scarlet, and even Sirius, nearly impossible to embarrass, thought there was a chance that his own face had gone red. Sirius scrambled for something to say that would sell the lie—Mary had been in their lives since they were in school, but she didn’t know about Remus’ lycanthropy. If anyone could see right through them, it would be her.
Remus cleared his throat. “Mary… It’s a—a fairly recent thing. We—”
“It’s about bloody time!” Mary’s eyes were still wide and she was still clearly upset over not being told sooner, but now she was grinning as she pulled Remus into a bruising hug. “I don’t even care that you didn’t say anything sooner.” A lie, Sirius knew. “Remus, I’m so pleased for you. You’ve only been pining away for what, ten years?”
Mary was clearly teasing Remus as she kept on, but Sirius’ brain was stuck on her words like a broken record. Pining away for ten years. Pining away… for ten years.
Remus had been pining for ten years?
Sirius blinked slowly. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt—he didn’t know. Maybe he should have been stunned or uncomfortable that he was technically engaged to someone who was, apparently, on a very different page than he was—but he didn’t feel that way at all. He felt lighter than he had in ages, and that in itself was its own tangle of confusion. Eventually, he looked over at Remus. The other man’s face was completely closed off, the blood all but drained from it, and he was clutching his cane with a trembling hand.
“A party would be lovely,” Remus told Mary as he pushed himself out of her hold, his voice oddly empty of any real emotion. “How kind of you. But we need to be going—Harry’s had a long day.”
“Oh, of course! How sweet that you two are involving him.” Mary beamed down at Harry. “You’ll help them pick the music, won’t you, Harry? Remus only listens to Bowie, and it’s old now.”
Remus made an affronted noise that broke through his blank expression, even as he continued to avoid Sirius’ gaze. Harry looked offended. “I like Bowie,” he insisted. “Just like Uncle Moony.”
Mary sighed. “Ah, well, I tried. I’m expecting an invitation soon. Merlin, no one ever thought you two would finally get your heads out of—” She faltered when she realized Harry was watching her carefully and cleared her throat. “Well. Point is, Lily and James would’ve been so happy.” Mary looked suddenly teary, and Sirius felt a lump in his own throat; he was sure Remus felt the same. “Happy for you both. Good job on the ring, Black. It suits him.”
That was what snapped Sirius back to the present. “It does,” he agreed, and he realized that he meant every word. “Marriage looks good on him.”
He didn’t look to see Remus’ reaction, too focused on the grin that had overtaken Mary’s face. “It looks good on you both,” she told him. She clapped a had on his shoulder. “I’d best be off, but it was great running into you both. Glad you finally got your head out of your arse, Black.” Her dark eyes glittered with sudden mirth. “Or will it be Lupin?”
“Lupin-Black,” Sirius chirped, mentally rolling the name over in his mind with much more consideration. Sirius Lupin-Black. Not bad at all.
Mary seemed to be doing the same. “Cute,” she decided. “And just so the two of you know, I’m throwing you an engagement party for the record books. Can’t believe you waited this long—how much time do I have before the wedding?”
“Three weeks.” Remus’ voice was quiet as he cut in. They had not, of course, set a date, but a quick flip of his mental calendar told him that would give Remus ample time to recover after the upcoming full moon. A good thing, if they were now expecting guests. “I will send you an owl with the details later tonight.”
Mary didn’t look pleased about the owl—Remus very well knew that she preferred Muggle mail now, so this was clearly his way of getting her back for the teasing—but she nodded. “You’d better. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She paused. “I hope you both know that there are still a lot of people who want to see you happy. Maybe not the ones you wish were there the most, but… I think there are more people cheering you on than you think.” She crouched down and ruffled Harry’s hair, making it even more unruly much to Sirius’ chagrin. “Like this little lad! You’ll be the best little flower boy, Harry.”
Harry puffed up his little chest, and the sight was enough to melt Sirius’ heart. “I will!”
Mary hugged all three of them, congratulated Remus and Sirius once more, and then made her leave. She left them in an awkward silence, until Remus finally cleared his throat.
“We need to pay for these,” he said. Sirius blinked, surprised that he hadn’t realized that Remus was still levitating his books.
“I’ll get them,” Sirius insisted, injecting as much levity as he could into his voice. He flicked his wand so that he was in control of the pile and added Harry’s books to the bunch. When Sirius glanced over at Remus, he saw that his friend was frowning.
“I haven’t narrowed down which—”
“Moony!” Sirius couldn’t help his laugh. “How many years do we have to have this argument? I’ll buy them all, no problem.”
Remus’ gaze turned hard. “You’re not responsible for my finances, Sirius. You have no obligation to pay for me because I can’t afford much. And if you say that we’re engaged now and you should, then I’ll hex you until you—”
“Moony, come off it.” Sirius was growing annoyed, and he knew he should be more patient, especially since Harry was watching, but he just couldn’t understand why Remus always fought him on this. “I’ve been doing this since we were in school, the ring has nothing to do with it.”
Remus flinched, and it caught Sirius so off-guard that he stopped his tirade. Remus’ lips thinned as he pressed them tightly together, and he finally gave Sirius a curt nod. “You have,” he admitted, voice brittle. “We should talk about that later. I will take Harry home while you pay.”
He’d grabbed Harry and Disapparated before Sirius could agree.
…
Sirius entered their home several minutes later. Harry was stationed happily in front of the telly, a cup of Remus’ famous hot cocoa in his hands. Sirius smiled at the sight and dropped the new books beside Harry, whose only acknowledgement was a drowsy grin.
A quick look around revealed that Remus was in the kitchen brewing two cups of tea. Sirius watched him for a moment, caught up in the sight. He had seen it every day for the last five years, but it wasn’t until that moment that it occurred to him that he couldn’t imagine not seeing it. When he looked to the future, Remus was in it. Making tea, singing with Harry, laughing with Sirius in their little garden—he was always there.
It had always been like that. Ever since they’d been in school, Sirius had pictured celebrating every milestone with his friends. But with Remus… he’d always pictured himself next to Remus. For everything, big or small. And he did things for Remus that he wouldn’t have thought to do for anyone else, like purchase the books he couldn’t afford on his own for no other reason than they made him happy. He hadn’t even done that for James. Sirius felt like an idiot for never thinking about it before, but his relationship with Remus had always been different. Maybe he’d been a little in love the whole time.
Sirius sighed and put the books on the table. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Lay it on me then, Moons.”
Remus’ back was to him, but he could still see the way that his shoulders tensed up. “I’d have thought that you wanted to have it out with me.”
Even after fifteen years of knowing each other, Sirius still struggled to follow Remus’ thinking. “Er… why?”
“Why?” Remus whirled around, fire in his eyes. Sirius felt cornered, but he was a Gryffindor, godammit, and would hold his ground. “Maybe because you’ve just found out that I have been—” Remus cut himself off, pain and regret flashing across his face. He dropped his head into his hand and muttered, “Let’s just forget it, Sirius. Call the whole thing off. I don’t need this potion, and this charade is—it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
Sirius was stung. “Is this because Mary said you’ve been pining after me since school?” he demanded. It wasn’t the wisest thing to say in the moment, but Sirius had never acted rationally and he wasn’t about to start now. “That’s not a good enough reason to risk your health and safety.”
Remus stared at him. “You do realize what marriage is, don’t you? It’s not temporary. It’s legally binding yourself to me. And maybe—maybe it would have worked if we were both on the same page. But we’re clearly not, and now I can’t in good conscience let you do this.”
Sirius walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out two chairs. “Sit down, Remus.”
Remus did, but he didn’t look happy about it. He dropped heavily on to the seat, and Sirius sat in the one next to him. He waited a beat and then said, “I know what marriage is.”
Remus huffed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Why do you think that I offered to do this?” Sirius pressed. “You know my dating habits. I’d never joke about marriage. The whole thing used to scare the shit out of me—I couldn’t even commit to the same person for a few months, let alone a lifetime.” Sirius leaned forwards, searching Remus’ face for any indication that he was hearing what Sirius was trying to say. “You’re the only person I’d want to spend that much time with.”
Remus pulled a face. “Friends for life is different from marrying a werewolf, Sirius.”
“That’s not what—”
“No, you need to listen.” Remus’ hands were clasped tightly in his lap, but there was a sharpness to his voice that Sirius had only heard a handful of times before. “I am poor, I am sickly, and I can’t hold down a job.”
Outrage began to burn in Sirius’ chest. “Don’t talk about yourself that way,” he snapped.
“That is what I am!” Remus looked up then, and he looked furious. “It will never change. I am happy to be your friend, Padfoot, and I will always want a part in yours and Harry’s lives. But I don’t want you to tie yourself to me like this—not when you can’t feel about me the way that I feel about you. Mary was right. I—” Remus faltered. “I have wanted more between us since we were teenagers. And it’s selfish of me to—to play into a fantasy just to get a potion that is a luxury more than anything. It’s bad enough that I let you house and feed me. You don’t need this. You deserve to have the freedom to fall in love with someone worthy—”
“Shut the fuck up, Remus,” Sirius growled. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m already in love. It’s not something I ever put into words, and Merlin knows that I’ve never said it aloud, but I know what this is. I knew it today when that stupid fucking bloke was looking at you like you shouldn’t be in his store, and I knew it when Mary said I should’ve gotten my head out of my arse a long time ago.” Sirius scooted closer so Remus had to keep looking at him. “Don’t call the potion a luxury. It’s a pain medication—it’s vital. Your health is important, and I would do much worse than marry you to make sure that you get it.”
“Could you be happy here with me?” Remus demanded. “I’m really asking. Could you be happy with this” —he waved his hand around, gesturing to the room as a whole— “for the rest of your life? Never changing, even after Harry has moved out? Just you and me existing here? For only each other?”
The thought of that not happening—of Remus leaving him once Harry was older—was more distressing that Sirius would ever be comfortable admitting. “Yes!” he said. “Moony, do you really not see how you’ve changed me? Before Lily and James died, I would never have pictured myself being any good at this life. Being Harry’s godfather was supposed to be popping in to play, spoiling him on Christmas, and then leaving to drink, or go out, or travel, or do whatever the hell I wanted to do. But then I… I didn’t get that choice anymore. And I was a mess. You remember that, don’t you?”
Remus frowned. “You are wonderful with Harry, Sirius.”
“Yeah, because you were there. You knocked on the door and came in because you knew we needed you. Not because you were selfishly in love with me, or whatever bullshit you just said.” Sirius reached out and took Remus’ hand in his. “Moving in and helping me learn how to be the person I had to become—that was the furthest thing from selfish. And I haven’t thanked you enough for it. Haven’t even told you that you saved me.”
“I…” Remus looked stricken. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“Well, yeah.” Sirius ran a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily. “Come on, Moons. You hold us together. You’ve always held me together. You’re not the selfish one, I am, because I’d do anything to keep you here.” He grinned a little maniacally. “Whatever it takes.”
Remus cracked a small smile at that. He glanced down at their intertwined hands. “It really doesn’t bother you that I…” He trailed off, blushing.
Sirius was awful for it, but he couldn’t resist teasing. “That you fancy me?”
Remus scowled at him. “I’ve no idea why, but unfortunately, yes.”
Sirius laughed. “Only if you’re not bothered that I fancy you.”
Remus gave him a look. “I don’t need your pity. Don’t tell me that just because you feel guilty.”
“I happen to actually enjoy your company, believe it or not.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Is it easier to accept if I’m getting something out of it? Fine, make me your villain. I’m getting a devoted, smart, handsome partner who loves my godson. He’ll be tied to me, a reckless and often moronic wizard, for life. Merlin help him.”
He could tell that Remus was trying not to smile. “You’re not a villain for… for wanting me. I just want you to keep your options open in case someone better comes along.”
“There will never be anyone better,” Sirius said firmly. “I mean it. I loved James and Lily, and I never knew the new music they were listening to, or knew which books they were reading, or even how they liked their tea. I didn’t save newspaper clipping for them when I read something they’d find interesting. I didn’t make them breakfast in the mornings or look forward to having a quiet night in with them. But I do those things with you.” Sirius toyed with the ring on Remus’ finger. “And this? This felt like the biggest decision of my life. And I really wasn’t joking when I said it looked bloody incredible on you.”
Remus was blushing. “Were those your words?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” Sirius’ gaze was locked on the ring. “Right, I’m a little obsessed with this. I hope you decide to keep it on.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sirius realized that he wasn’t prepared for a negative response, so he changed the subject. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Remus tilted his head to the side. “I didn’t think that it would go well,” he said at last. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
“We’ve been mates for years. I would’ve let you down gently.”
Remus snorted. “I think you need to do a little more self-reflection.”
Sirius hated to admit it, but Remus was right. He hadn’t been the most emotionally available teenager, and he could picture himself laughing at Remus’ confession or pretending like it was all a joke. “Right, so there was a chance I’d have been a berk about it,” he admitted. But then, wasn’t there a possibility that he would have realized that he liked Remus right back? “But maybe I would have gone for it, you know? Even if it wasn’t perfect at first, I might have given it a real shot. I’ve always felt differently about you, even when I didn’t know why.”
Remus shrugged. “I couldn’t take that chance. I guess I realized that if I took the shot and missed, well… the only thing I lose… is you.” Remus gave him a small, self-deprecating smile. “I valued our friendship too much for that. I’d have happily stayed quiet forever if it meant that I could keep you as a friend.”
Sirius nodded slowly. There was a part of him that wondered how much time they had missed out on, but he decided—for once—to just be grateful for what he had now. “You don’t have to do that anymore. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”
Remus looked like he didn’t quite believe him. Sirius leaned forwards. “I mean it, Moons. We’ll do it backwards.” He grinned, an idea blossoming. He got out of his chair and kneeled down on one knee, gripping Remus’ hand with both of his. “Marry me, Moony,” he said, “and then if it works out… maybe a date?”
“Romantic,” Remus deadpanned, but he was grinning now, too. “I suppose… I suppose I could give you a shot.”
Sirius beamed, already planning the places he’d take Remus after their wedding. And speaking of, they really didn’t have much time to plan it, so they’d better get started—
“Padfoot!” Harry’s voice cut those thoughts short. “I’m hungry now and I want more ice cream!”
Remus threw back his head and laughed, a full-bellied thing that made Sirius’ chest go fuzzy. He smiled fondly in Harry’s direction, then looked at Sirius with an even softer expression that, Sirius realized with a jolt, Remus had been using when he looked at Sirius for many years now. “I’ll let you sort that, Pads.”
Sirius felt daring, so he pushed himself up just enough to give Remus’ lips a quick peck. “Gladly,” he murmured.
…
The next week, wedding planning was underway. It was a hectic mess, and Harry had decided that he needed to practice for his role in the wedding, so roses had completely overtaken their home—and their petals covered the floors. Remus was shaking his head as he Vanished them dozens at a time, and he shot Sirius an unimpressed look.
“I blame you for this,” he complained. “You didn’t have to encourage this.”
“But he’s so excited!” Sirius came up and wrapped his arms around Remus from behind. It was a little awkward—Remus still seemed like he couldn’t accept this sort of affection from Sirius, or like he wasn’t quite convinced that Sirius wasn’t just doing it to ease his conscience about the wedding, and Sirius was still a little dazed that he was allowed to be this close to Remus. Still, awkwardness had never stopped him before. “Um… I just wanted to say… you look nice today.”
“Ah. Very smooth.” Sirius could practically hear Remus raising his brow in amusement. “I’m glad that the jumper with three holes has improved my appearance.”
Sirius shook with his laughter. “It’s like I’ve been slipped a love potion…” He leaned into the bit. “Everything you do is just intoxicating.”
Remus laughed and shoved him away. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me,” Sirius chirped. He’d used that line before, but it held a different gravity this time. He expected Remus to smile and change the subject.
“Yes.” Remus surprised them both. “Yes, I do.”
And really, who could blame Sirius for kissing him after that? And if he got a little lost in it, it was only because he was looking forward to a lifetime of snogging Remus Lupin senseless.