Chapter Text
He was running late, which would not have been particularly concerning on any other day except today happened to involve pressed suits, formal vows, several emotional people already waiting for him and at least three separate text messages that morning explicitly telling him do not be late.
Naturally, London had chosen violence.
The tube had stalled somewhere between South Kensington and Sloane Square for nearly twenty minutes, leaving Sirius trapped underground surrounded by a deeply miserable collection of commuters whilst he stood internally screaming at every passing second.
So now he was jogging through Chelsea in polished black shoes that absolutely were not designed for speed, suit jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder and tie already loosened despite the fact he’d spent ten whole minutes fixing it properly before leaving home.
August sunshine sat warm against the pavement and every few seconds Sirius checked the watch on his wrist only to become progressively more irritated with time itself.
Somewhere several streets ahead sat the courthouse and Sirius knew full well if he walked in late he would never hear the bloody end of it.
Halfway down King’s Road, movement above him caught his attention and instinct forced his head upward before he could stop himself.
Plastered across the entire side of an enormous department store was a billboard large enough to make younger Sirius genuinely lose his mind.
Himself.
Sirius slowed automatically, staring up for half a second despite seeing the campaign go live nearly two weeks ago.
The photo was dramatic in the ridiculous way fashion apparently insisted on being these days, dark curls styled deliberately messy, sharp cheekbones catching dramatic shadow whilst one heavily tattooed arm stretched behind his head and the rest of him remained shirtless because apparently luxury cologne brands believed the best way to sell perfume was by aggressively sexualising recovering former addicts.
Sirius had long stopped questioning the logic.
Still… he looked good.
Better than good, honestly.
There had once been a time where Sirius Black couldn’t even imagine employers trusting him to stack supermarket shelves without setting something on fire.
Now his face covered half of central London.
The thought made him grin despite himself as he shifted the suit jacket higher on his shoulder and resumed jogging. A sudden flash of sunlight bounced sharply against his left hand and instinctively Sirius glanced down, warmth immediately blooming low in his chest at the sight of the diamond ring sitting comfortably where it had belonged these last six months.
Funny.
There had also been a time where he genuinely believed nobody would ever love him long enough to buy jewellery.
He was nearly there when someone suddenly called out behind him.
“Wait!”
Sirius turned instinctively, already moving backwards now.
A woman stood just outside a coffee shop clutching her phone, eyes wide with immediate recognition and the exact expression Sirius had unfortunately learned meant public interaction incoming.
“Oh my God,” she laughed breathlessly. “You’re Sirius Black.”
“Depends who’s asking.”
She grinned wider and lifted her phone slightly. “Could I please get a picture?”
Normally he would have said yes. Three years into modelling had taught Sirius that stopping for photos cost nothing and usually made people ridiculously happy.
But one glance toward the elegant courthouse now visible at the end of the street immediately reminded him he was approximately six minutes away from being murdered.
He pointed apologetically toward the building. “Normally, absolutely.” Then he checked his watch again. “But I am horrifically late and if I don’t get there soon, someone very important is going to kill me.”
She laughed loudly as Sirius turned back around and immediately resumed jogging full speed, black loafers slamming sharply against sun warmed pavement whilst behind him traffic hummed through Chelsea streets.
Above the city skyline, his own face stared down from polished glass buildings and sunlight kept catching against the diamond on his hand every few seconds like some quiet reminder of everything he’d somehow built for himself.
—-
By the time Sirius finally burst through the heavy courthouse doors, he was fairly certain one of his lungs had collapsed. His chest heaved violently beneath the fitted black suit, curls sticking damply against his forehead after sprinting the last two streets like some deranged action hero, and he had approximately half a second to appreciate just how beautiful the room looked before his attention snagged somewhere far more important.
At the front of the chamber, standing beneath soft cream coloured walls draped with elegant ivory flowers, Remus turned at the sound of the doors opening.
And Christ.
Sirius still, even after three years together, occasionally forgot how unfairly attractive his fiancé was.
Today he wore a perfectly tailored dark green suit that made his shoulders look offensively broad, pale gold tie sitting neatly against a crisp white shirt whilst soft blond curls had been pushed back properly for once, exposing sharp cheekbones Sirius planned on kissing later.
The second golden eyes landed on Sirius, Remus smiled slowly, equal parts fondness and I knew you’d be late. Then, without changing expression whatsoever, he very subtly lifted one wrist and tapped the face of his watch twice.
Sirius grimaced immediately.
Sorry. He mouthed it exaggeratedly across the room.
Remus rolled his eyes. Naturally.
Trying to regain at least some semblance of dignity, Sirius hurried down the aisle adjusting his cuffs as he went, ignoring several amused looks from seated guests who had very clearly watched his spectacularly late entrance unfold in real time.
Up at the front stood James already waiting in his own fitted navy suit, glasses catching warm afternoon sunlight spilling softly through high courthouse windows.
The second Sirius reached him, James leaned sideways just enough to mutter under his breath, “You’re a prick.”
Sirius smiled brightly. “Lovely to see you too.”
James shook his head, though Sirius caught the grin threatening at the corner of his mouth before quickly facing forward again. Sirius slipped neatly into place between James and Remus now, straightening his jacket properly and finally allowing himself one deep steadying breath.
Beside him, Remus’ fingers briefly brushed against the back of Sirius’ hand, quick enough no one else would notice, lingering just long enough for Sirius’ heart to do that stupid warm thing it still insisted on doing whenever Remus touched him.
Across from them, standing beside the registrar in a perfectly tailored cream suit, Peter Pettigrew looked like he might physically explode from happiness.
He was already crying.
Streaming-down-his-face, chest-heaving, absolutely wrecked tears whilst grinning so widely it looked genuinely painful.
Sirius barely had time to smirk affectionately at the sight before sudden movement caught his eye from the front row. Lily sat there radiant in a soft sage green dress, laughing quietly whilst balancing a small wriggling body against her lap. Harry had apparently spotted Sirius too.
Tiny hands immediately pointed upward with all the urgency of a national emergency whilst wild dark hair bounced furiously around his face.
Then, loud enough for approximately half the courthouse to hear, Harry shouted with immense excitement “UNCLE SIWI!”
Several guests laughed instantly. Harry bounced harder. Tiny trainers kicking wildly against Lily’s knees.
“UNCLE SIWI!”
Sirius physically melted.
Lily, cheeks pink with amusement, gently tried shushing him whilst Harry simply leaned farther forward still pointing triumphantly at Sirius like he’d personally discovered fire.
“UNCLE SIWI HERE!”
A soft swell of piano music drifted through the courthouse and suddenly the entire room shifted.
Every quiet conversation disappeared instantly, the faint laughter Harry had been causing moments earlier fading into silence as all attention turned toward the heavy double doors at the far end of the chamber. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, they began to open.
Sirius watched Peter physically straighten beside the registrar before immediately crumbling all over again the second Luciana stepped through.
She looked breathtaking. Elegant ivory silk fell in soft waves to the floor, simple and timeless in a way that somehow suited her perfectly, delicate lace sleeves resting against warm olive skin whilst dark curls had been pinned loosely away from her face beneath a long veil catching afternoon sunlight every time she moved. Her father held her arm proudly, though Sirius doubted the poor man was seeing much through his own tears because Peter had now begun openly sobbing hard enough his entire chest shook beneath his cream suit.
The man looked seconds away from fainting. Yet somehow through all the tears he was smiling too, huge and blinding and so full of joy Sirius thought he might start crying himself if he looked too long.
Luciana caught Peter’s expression halfway down the aisle and immediately laughed through tears of her own, shaking her head softly as if of course this was exactly how Peter Pettigrew would react to seeing her walk toward him.
It was one of the purest things Sirius had ever witnessed.
The ceremony itself blurred beautifully after that. Vows spoken with trembling voices and tearful laughter when Peter got halfway through his and immediately had to stop because apparently breathing had become too emotionally complicated. Luciana smiled at him the entire time like he was the easiest thing she had ever chosen, squeezing both his hands tightly whenever his voice threatened to disappear altogether. Sirius stood quietly between James and Remus watching everything unfold beneath soft August sunlight streaming gently through high courthouse windows, occasionally glancing sideways at the tiny diamond glittering on his own hand whenever thoughts drifted somewhere soft and future shaped.
Harry had eventually settled against Lily’s shoulder, sleepy now after exhausting himself screaming Uncle Siwi loud enough for several elderly relatives to visibly jump. Somewhere in the second row Luciana’s brother sat grinning beside Amos, both attempting unsuccessfully to stop four-year-old Cedric from swinging his polished little shoes repeatedly against the seat in front. The entire room felt full.
Not crowded exactly, but overflowing with the sort of love Sirius had spent years convincing himself belonged exclusively to other people. The sort he had never expected to stand close enough to touch.
And somehow the rest of the day only became more beautiful.
There was laughter spilling through sunlit gardens outside the courthouse whilst photographs were taken in chaotic clusters of family and friends all trying unsuccessfully to keep Harry and Cedric still long enough for pictures.
Champagne glasses clinked endlessly beneath late afternoon summer heat whilst music drifted softly from somewhere inside and people danced badly without caring who watched.
James cried again during the speeches. Lily laughed so hard wine nearly came out of her nose when Sirius attempted giving advice on marriage despite not technically being married himself yet. Peter looked at Luciana all evening as though he genuinely could not believe she existed, whilst Luciana spent hours smiling at her husband with exactly the same expression back.
By sunset, beneath warm London skies fading gold above Chelsea rooftops, Mr and Mrs Pettigrew stood together hand in hand surrounded entirely by people who adored them, laughing brighter than either had all day.
And Sirius thought quietly to himself, Peter and Luciana Pettigrew had just experienced the most wonderful day of their entire lives.
And every single person lucky enough to witness it knew, they deserved every second of it.
By the time evening settled fully over Chelsea and most of the wedding party had migrated toward the little pub Peter had rented for the reception, Sirius found himself tucked away in the back garden beneath strings of warm fairy lights, thinking with quiet certainty that life had become almost offensively good.
The August air had cooled pleasantly now, soft enough that Remus had instinctively shrugged off his suit jacket earlier and draped it lazily over both their laps where they sat curled together on a weathered wooden bench near the far hedge. Sirius rested sideways against him without thinking, shoulder tucked comfortably beneath Remus’ arm whilst one absentminded hand traced slow patterns over the familiar fabric of Remus’ waistcoat. Somewhere behind them laughter spilled loudly through open pub doors where James and Peter were apparently losing a very heated argument over darts. Music hummed softly from inside too, glasses clinking every few seconds beneath warm conversation and celebration still lingering pleasantly after what had been, unquestionably, one of the loveliest days Sirius had ever experienced. Three years ago he would have been blackout drunk by now. Tonight he held nothing stronger than lemonade balanced lazily between his knees and genuinely couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.
Across from them sat Amos and Fletcher Diggory, both looking exactly how Sirius imagined parenthood was meant to look, exhausted but happy in ways that somehow softened everything about them.
Fletcher sat slouched comfortably with one ankle resting over his knee, tie long discarded somewhere hours ago, whilst Amos leaned warm against his husband’s shoulder nursing what had to be his third beer of the evening.
They made a striking pair in that quietly stable way Sirius had always admired. Entirely in sync without needing to perform it. Near the edge of the garden their son Cedric, now four years old and visibly reaching the end of his social battery, continued chasing an equally exhausted Harry through the grass in wide unsteady circles, both boys stumbling more than running now with flushed cheeks and grass stained knees whilst occasionally shrieking loud enough to interrupt every adult conversation nearby.
Harry’s little tie had vanished entirely at some point after cake. Cedric had somehow lost one sock. Neither child appeared remotely concerned.
Sirius watched them for a long moment, smiling softly when Harry tripped dramatically only for Cedric to immediately stop and help haul him upright before both resumed running again like nothing had happened.
The conversation had drifted there naturally.
Children.
Family.
Future.
It had started innocently enough when Remus, fingers lazily carding through the curls at the nape of Sirius’ neck, had asked Amos some quiet question about adoption agencies after Fletcher mentioned Cedric’s third adoption anniversary passing earlier this month. Sirius had immediately gone still, listening harder now whilst Amos smiled warmly and began explaining the process.
The paperwork apparently took forever.
Interviews.
Financial assessments.
Home visits where complete strangers judged your bookshelves and tried to determine whether you’d emotionally damage a hypothetical child by storing cereal incorrectly.
Fletcher joked bitterly about spending six months arguing with one social worker over whether their flat contained sufficient educational enrichment opportunities, which apparently translated to please buy more books. Sirius laughed with everyone else but his chest had tightened strangely the longer the conversation continued.
Because for years the future had simply not existed for him. The idea of permanence, children, marriage, stability, family beyond surviving day to day, had once felt absurd enough to dismiss entirely.
Yet now sitting here listening to two men talk casually about the child they had fought so hard to bring home, Sirius realised these conversations no longer felt impossible.
Beside him Remus shifted slightly, turning just enough that their knees pressed more firmly together beneath the bench.
Sirius glanced upward instinctively and found golden eyes already watching him, soft and knowing in the way Remus always seemed capable of being whenever Sirius’ thoughts wandered somewhere too quiet to verbalise.
Sirius found himself thinking of Regulus then, despite his brother being absent tonight after insisting he really ought to stop attending every social event attached to people who technically aren’t his friends and instead spend the evening at home with Poppy, who was now well into her pregnancy and apparently entering the phase where standing up too quickly had become both emotionally and physically difficult.
Sirius smiled faintly to himself at the thought. It still felt bizarre sometimes, imagining Regulus Black, his composed younger brother who once treated human affection like an inconvenience, becoming somebody’s father. A daughter, too. Due in December. A little girl Sirius already suspected would have the entire family wrapped helplessly around her tiny finger before she could even walk.
Slowly Sirius reached down and intertwined their fingers automatically, smiling faintly when Remus squeezed once in return.
Across the grass Harry had now entirely abandoned running and instead sat heavily beside Cedric beneath the garden table, both boys speaking in serious little whispers as though discussing matters of grave international importance.
Harry had only ever known this Sirius. Present Sirius. Reliable Sirius.
The uncle who attended plays and bought birthday presents on time and no longer disappeared for weeks chasing things that hurt more than they healed.
They simply sat there together beneath warm garden lights whilst laughter drifted softly from inside and summer night settled wonderfully over the city around them.
Sirius leaned deeper against Remus, feeling the familiar steady heartbeat beneath his shoulder and thinking how strange life was sometimes. Three years ago he had wrapped a motorbike around an oak tree believing, somewhere deep down, that perhaps his life had finally ended exactly as he deserved.
Instead, everything had begun there. Sobriety. Family. Love. Purpose.
Somewhere ahead sat wedding plans and magazine campaigns and quiet mornings waking beside the man currently brushing his thumb absentmindedly over Sirius’ knuckles.
Maybe one day there would be children too. Tiny hands. School uniforms. Someone who called him dad. The thought no longer terrified him.
It simply felt right.
Sirius watched Harry laugh at something Cedric had whispered, watched Remus smile quietly beside him, watched his diamond catch golden pub light as his hand rested safely inside another’s and with complete certainty knew this.
There would never be a happier version of himself than the man sitting here now.
Sirius realised that what he felt now stretched so far past ordinary love that language itself almost failed trying to contain it.
Because love felt too small somehow. Too simple. Loving Remus wasn’t butterflies or racing pulse or a sort of temporary obsession.
No.
This was bigger than that. Vast and consuming in ways Sirius had never thought another human being could become. It lived in every quiet corner of his life now. In mornings waking to sleepy blond curls against his pillow. In the instinctive comfort of reaching across the bed and always finding warmth waiting there.
In the fact Remus knew exactly how Sirius took his tea and which nightmares still occasionally woke him sweating at three in the morning and which Bowie album to put on when Sirius felt anxious for reasons he couldn’t articulate.
Sirius loved Remus in the mundane parts just as fiercely as the extraordinary ones.
He loved the way he left books half open around the flat and sang badly whilst cooking dinner and still wore bow ties often enough that Sirius had privately considered proposing a second time purely out of gratitude. But more than all of that, Sirius loved the version of himself that existed because Remus loved him first. Loved him when he was recovering. Loved him when he doubted every promise he made about sobriety. Loved him enough to stay steady whilst Sirius rebuilt an entire identity from the rubble of who he used to be.
Perhaps that was why none of this felt like simple romance anymore. It had gone somewhere deeper. Larger and impossible to fully explain.
Remus had not merely become the man Sirius loved.
Somehow, impossibly, he had become home itself. The safest place Sirius had ever known. The quiet certainty at the centre of every future thought Sirius now allowed himself to imagine. Marriage, children, grey hair.
Growing old together in some ridiculous little cottage where Remus would still insist on vinyl records and Sirius would still pretend not to cry at sentimental films. Sirius looked down at their joined hands resting comfortably between them, diamond catching soft golden light overhead and thought with staggering gratitude that whatever existed between them now had moved somewhere beyond love itself.
Sirius imagined that the only comparison to this beyond love place, was walking on water.
And God, what a beautiful thing that was.
I can feel you breathing
With your hair on my skin
As we lie here within
The night
I'll pull the sheets
When it's cold on your feet
Cuz you'll fall back to sleep
Every time
Grow old with me
Let us share what we see
And oh the best it could be
Just you and I