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‘Don’t. Don’t say you love me.’
Remus keeps his face even as he can, but he suspects it betrays him anyway.
‘If it bothers you.’ Sirius dumps an overstuffed bag full of goodness-knows-what onto the chair. The only chair in the cabin. ‘We are married though.’
Like that makes any difference.
‘You didn’t marry me for love. You did it to get out of the country.’
The eldest son of a powerful family, however wayward, would never have been granted an exit visa in his own right, and sneaking out using small ships or Portkeys isn’t an option anymore. The Ministry is more than happy to let werewolves and their families leave. For once being unwelcome has proven useful for Remus.
Sirius frowns, a faint crease emerging on his forehead. ‘You make it sound like I’m using you.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ says Remus, softening. ‘You had to get out, at least try to find Lily and James. Besides, it was my idea, wasn’t it?’
‘It was.’ Sirius grins. The marriage scam had been the first time Remus had impressed him in a long while. Remus couldn’t deny that pleased him, a chance to seem bold and daring, to come to Sirius’ rescue. ‘It was really kind of you.’
Remus just smiles weakly, because it wasn’t kind, not at all. Marrying Sirius had been a wholly selfish act. What had been his alternatives? Stay, and watch Sirius take ever bigger risks defying the Ministry until he landed himself in Azkaban? Never. Go, and leave Sirius behind? Remus could no more walk away from Sirius than he could his own limbs.
He glances around the cabin, eager for distraction, but finds none. The cabin isn’t quite as small as expected – thanks, no doubt, to the generous bribes Sirius pays – but it’s small and bland. One chair, one desk, one small wardrobe. One bed.
His face grows warm thinking of it. ‘We’ll have to sort something out about sleeping arrangements.’
‘We can share the bed,’ says Sirius in a tone that brooks no argument. ‘We’ve done it before.’
Before when they were together because Sirius wanted it. Before he’d got bored of Remus.
‘It’s hardly the same,’ Remus mutters, turning away.
Sirius flops down on the bed, sending one of Remus’ bags bouncing to the ground. ‘Well, I’m not sleeping in a lifeboat and I won’t stand for you doing it either. We can share. I promise not to molest you.’
‘Fine,’ says Remus, eager to end the conversation. It is, of course, the only reasonable suggestion. He’s annoyed that Sirius was the one to suggest it.
#
They’re far out to sea by bedtime, bags unpacked, and teeth brushed in the cupboard-sized bathroom. Remus feels itchy in his pyjamas, and he strenuously avoids looking at Sirius as he crawls into bed beside him.
‘Look, no pressure, but we could,’ says Sirius, as Remus attempts to position himself so he’s not touching Sirius, but not obviously not touching him either. ‘Have sex. We’ve done that before as well. It was good, wasn’t it?’
Remus can hardly deny it, so he forces a scowl. ‘I remember you always liked sex.’
Sirius shrugs, unperturbed, and why wouldn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with liking sex. Remus feels foolish and small, something Sirius inspires in him all too often.
‘I really liked it with you,’ says Sirius, low and seductive.
‘I just… don’t think it’s a good idea,’ says Remus. He wants to say yes. He wants to run away.
‘Your choice,’ says Sirius. He doesn’t sound all that disappointed, but why should he be? ‘Just don’t start worrying that I only suggested it out of gratitude or as payment or something.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t think you’d offer a shag to be polite,’ says Remus, with a shaky laugh. He needs to stop making such a big deal out of this.
Either Sirius is convinced or he’s just not that fussed, because he punches his pillow, rolls over, and settles down for the night. ‘Well, if you change your mind and decide you fancy a quickie, you know where to find me.’
Remus lies still in the silent darkness, waiting for Sirius to fall asleep. He wants Sirius, of course he does, but not for a quickie, anymore than he wants to hear Sirius make up stories for the ship staff about how he loves Remus. The tactical lie is a painful reminder of how much Remus wants it to be true.
He huffs out a sigh, irritated with his own brooding. It was being an emotional mess that had spoilt his chances with Sirius before; Remus’ timidity and his brittle, resentful anxiety about Sirius’ taste for danger had soured their relationship beyond repair. If he wants to stand any chance of winning Sirius back, or at least maintaining their friendship, Remus needs to lighten up.
And if he’s got any sense, he’ll put Sirius’ offer of casual sex out of his mind as well.
#
It happens eventually, of course, because Sirius always gets what he wants, and Remus is weak in general and weak for Sirius especially. Spending day after day, night after night, close enough to feel the warmth of Sirius’ breath on his skin crumbles Remus’ resolve to dust. He can no more resist the temptation to reach out and touch than a child left unattended in Honeydukes could resist gorging themselves on sweets, however much they’ve been warned they’ll get stomach ache. No-one needs to warn Remus about heartache; he knows just what he’s setting himself up for.
But the sight of Sirius, half-lidded eyes and lips parted as he leans over him; the ragged sounds of Sirius’ breathing, the desperate little gasps before he comes; the taste of his skin, warm with a salt sheen of fresh perspiration; the reassuring beat of his heart as they lie, exhausted and content, wrapped up in each other on crumpled sheets, bend Remus’ will more than any curse ever could. He doesn’t know how to resist Sirius – physically at least – and in truth he doesn’t want to.
He never was as sensible as he pretended to be.
#
The journey aboard The Phoenix is long, though hardly arduous. Magical ships, in contrast with all other forms of transportation, are even slower than their Muggle counterparts. There’s only so much time Remus can devote to sex and self-denial, and soon he finds himself looking for more productive ways to spend his time. Sirius, whose boredom threshold is so low it’s in danger of falling to the bottom of the ocean at the best of times, is also in need of distraction, and so they both find themselves work, after a fashion.
Remus gets a taste of realising his dreams of teaching by providing lessons in Defensive Magic to the handful of children on the ship, three mornings a week between breakfast and storm drills. Sirius offers his services as an assistant to the Ship’s Healer, brewing potions and even deigning to treat the odd patient himself, so long as they don’t whinge too much. Outside his short lesson times Remus tends a small garden, cultivating plants for Sirius’ potions.
It’s surprising how much he can grow, in spite of high winds and salty air. There’s something quite comforting about the care and cultivation of plants. When he was a boy, Remus used to help his mother in the garden, planting potatoes and cabbages and daffodils. His mum used to say that gardening was a show of optimism, putting in the hard work in the hope of future reward. He’d been a decent enough student of Herbology in his school days, but it’s only now that Remus is learning the true power of plants. It’s fanciful, but Remus sees something symbolic about nurturing the fragile green shoots of new growth en route to his own fresh start. Just maybe, his plans for a better life for him and for Sirius really will come to fruition.
He’s tending the Fluxweed with fresh water and a dash of Dragon Dung Fertiliser when Sirius sneaks up behind him, his arms circling Remus’ waist.
‘Getting down and dirty again, eh Moony?’ he asks, a cheeky whisper in Remus’ ear. ‘Ooh, Fluxweed. I’ll be needing more of that soon.’
Remus nods, satisfied. ‘Thought you might.’
‘What would I do without you?’ says Sirius. He sounds fond, and Remus couldn’t help but like it. ‘How are you getting on with the Blasting Bellflowers? I hear all the kids are very excited about them.’
‘There was a crack in the propagator and the seedlings got cold and died,’ says Remus. ‘Shame, it would’ve been fun.’
‘You didn’t throw out the seeds, did you? I can brew you a Regerminating Potion, let you have another go.’
‘Thanks.’
It’s all so nice, comfortable. It’s the best part of being with Sirius, the times Remus feels the two of them are a team, helping each other out, stronger together. It had been like that when they got married; Sirius thrilled almost as much by the opportunity to out-wit the Ministry as to go looking for Lily and James, both of them gleefully in cahoots. The quietly domestic moments like this are perhaps even more dangerous, allowing Remus to lull himself into imagining he and Sirius are a real couple.
He knows it isn’t real. Sirius doesn’t love him, Remus knows that. At least, Sirius doesn’t love Remus in the way Remus loves him. It’s hard, though, for Remus to hold his love back, rein it in to protect his fragile heart. Sirius is a warm and solid presence behind him, holding Remus close, and it’s that quiet show of affection that makes Remus throw caution to the wind.
One day the ship will land, and Sirius will walk away. But now, while he’s here, Remus decides to indulge himself. Let himself love Sirius, and indulge the fantasy that their marriage is real while he can.
He’s going to get his heart broken either way, why not have a little pleasure before? That was something else his mum used to say, may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Sirius would approve of the sentiment, Remus thinks with a smile, never being one for half-measures himself.
Remus leans his head back against Sirius’ shoulder, humming in quiet contentment. In this moment, in Sirius’ arms, he’s happy.
#
It’s a grey, sad day, with plump storm clouds looming over a roiling ocean. The sort of day that makes the regular storm drills seem very necessary, rather than a tiresome inconvenience. Most of the passengers are hunkering down below deck, sensibly preferring to keep warm and dry as well as safe. Remus will be glad to join them just as soon as he’s secured the small garden area on the aft deck. Some good strong charms should do the job, and then he can get back inside before the storm breaks.
He’s nearly done; just triple checking the last of his Shield Charms, when it becomes apparent that it isn’t just a storm coming.
The ship rocks, violently, knocking Remus off his feet. The air is filled with a tremendous roar, the sound of the beast breaching, a massive body emerging from the depths. The creature is vast, dark and foreboding, with a pair of enormous luminous eyes shining bright. Tentacles thicker and longer than train carriages dance menacingly towards the boat.
It’s a kraken.
With scant hope of survival if the kraken attacks, Remus scrabbles for his wand in the hope he might Disillusion himself before he’s seen. It seems very dark all of a sudden, for all its mid-afternoon. His wand is barely visible, fallen into a patch of baby mandrakes, and feels wet and slippery when Remus grabs hold of it.
He can sense the crackle of magic as the charms safeguarding the ship spring to life. Everyone inside should be protected. On deck, though, out in the open, it’s far more dangerous.
In the distance, the kraken lifts a tentacle, and then lets it crash down into the ocean. The impact sends a great wave of seawater crashing over the deck, and it’s a struggle for Remus to keep breathing and keep hold of his wand. With tremendous force of will he pulls himself upright, only to be sent tumbling over as the ship lurches to and fro. He lands awkwardly, a sharp pain shooting up his leg, but he does his best to ignore it. If he doesn’t move quickly, he’ll have far worse problems than a broken ankle.
There’s a wet smack of seaweed hitting his face. The kraken has seen him, and is toying with him. Remus is sure it will attack him soon as he staggers forward, struggling against the wind, the pain in his ankle, and the frantic rocking of the ship. The kraken’s eyes seem to grow bigger as it draws nearer – they don’t eat people, Remus knows that. But it could easily knock him into the sea, and those wh ogo in rarely come out.
There isn’t meant to be anyone else on deck, and certainly no-one would’ve been allowed out once the kraken had been sighted, so there shouldn’t be someone running towards him, shouting his name. Even so, Remus can see Sirius sprinting across deck, misty through the salt spray.
‘Go back!’ Remus shouts as best he can, but the vicious wind carries his words far out to sea. His throat runs raw from shouting, but there’s no way Sirius can hear him and if he did, he wouldn’t listen.
One giant tentacle drifts a few yards above the deck, and Remus is sure it’s ready to simply brush him and Sirius into the cruel depths of the ocean, with no more effort than it would take him to dust crumbs off his robes. Sirius raises his wand and, astonishingly, whatever spell he casts seems to have some impact. The tentacle twitches, seemingly involuntarily, like the shed tail of a Fire Salamander. Sirius attacks it again and again, and Remus realises he’s simply aiming Stinging Hexes at the suckers. It’s unlikely to harm the kraken but it might be painful, or at least unpleasant enough to make it pull back.
Now he knows what Sirius is doing, Remus joins him in sending a volley of Stinging Hexes towards the kraken. It seems to be working, as it takes longer and longer each time for the tentacle to wave back towards them. Soon Sirius is at Remus’ side, grabbing hold and all but carrying Remus to safety. The door’s heavy, and Remus wastes valuable seconds prising it open, before Sirius shoves him inside. They’re nearly in when the kraken strikes again, another tentacle wiping Sirius’ feet out from under him, and he would surely be swept overboard but for Remus’ grip on his arm.
Sirius falls forward, feet scrabbling for purchase on the soaked deck as Remus grasps his forearm with both hands, desperately tugging Sirius towards him. Another great surge of water crashes over them, but still Remus holds on, breathless with terror that the sea might pull Sirius away from him. With one final, almighty effort he drags Sirius towards him, pulling Sirius’ upper body through the doorway. Sirius manages the last foot himself, and is barely through the door when Remus slams it behind him. Through the porthole, he can see the kraken thrashing about in the ocean, but it’s no threat to them now. The Phoenix is protected by powerful enchantments, and with no-one left visible for it to torment the sea monster will soon get bored and drift away.
Remus doesn’t speak a word as they walk back to their cabin, barely managing a nod of thanks when Sirius fixes his ankle. He’s still dripping wet, unable to muster up the energy to dry his clothes, and sick with fear.
‘Well, that was a bit of adventure, wasn’t it, Moony?’ says Sirius brightly when they get back to the cabin. He casts the spell to dry Remus’ clothes without asking.
‘A bit of adventure?’ Remus asks in disbelief. ‘You could’ve died!’
Sirius shrugs. ‘Didn’t though, did I?’
He looks so obscenely pleased with himself, like he’s just pulled off a prank or won at Quidditch. It’s infuriating.
‘You fucking arsehole!’ yells Remus, shoving ineffectually at Sirius’ chest. ‘Don’t just stand there smirking when you nearly got yourself killed!’
‘I saved you, didn’t I?’ says Sirius.
That is so absolutely not the point that Remus wants to scream. ‘You’re not here to keep me safe,’ he says. ‘The whole reason, the entire point of all of this was to save you! I didn’t do all of this to watch you get dragged out to sea.’
There’s no need to clarify what ‘all of this’ is. Their marriage. Leaving Britain. The journey far across the globe. Remus has left behind his home, his family, as good a job as a werewolf was likely to get and all of it, every last bit was for Sirius. It would all be for nothing if Sirius died anyway.
‘What, and you think I’d just stand by and let you drown?’ demands Sirius. ‘Just shrug and say “man overboard” never mind, I’ll find another husband in the next port?’
‘If the alternative is putting yourself at risk, then yes,’ says Remus, ploughing on past Sirius’ huff of derision. ‘And don’t start that, you know fine well it’s not the same thing. This isn’t… we’re not equal.’
It’s the cold truth. Sirius might be sad if anything bad happened to Remus, but it’s nothing to what losing Sirius would do to Remus.
Sirius glares at him, no doubt deeply offended that he would ever not do the Gryffindor thing and come to the aid of someone in danger. It takes him a long time to say anything at all, and when he does it’s perplexing.
‘I’ll never understand if you think you have terrible taste in men, or if you’re just addicted to playing the victim,’ he says in a low voice, before shouldering Remus out of his way and marching out the cabin.
#
Remus is left alone for several hours, confused and shaken. As the terror inspired by seeing Sirius so nearly swept out to sea subsides, his mind turns to what Sirius said before he left. He can understand Sirius’ anger, to an extent: Sirius would never sit idly by when Remus or anyone else was in danger. Suggesting that he might would be tantamount to calling him a coward, and there a few greater insults in Sirius’ mind.
Except, Sirius didn’t seem offended by that. If anything, he seemed angry at the suggestion that he didn’t care about Remus.
It’s always been a simple fact, in Remus’ mind, that he loves Sirius far more than Sirius cares for him. He’d been hopelessly besotted for months before Sirius had asked him out and it had, as Remus can’t forget, been Sirius who had broken up with him.
Could there be some chance that Sirius is beginning to return his feelings after all? It’s a frail and dangerous hope, one that Remus has denied himself since he first came up with the idea of their marriage of convenience. He knew it was unlikely the scheme would make Sirius fall in love with him, but the possibility is enticing. A possibility that will be quashed if Remus keeps pushing Sirius away.
There’s something else, a sense of déjà vu, that they’re falling back into old habits. Back in London, Sirius’ increasingly blatant defiance of the Ministry had driven Remus out of his wits with fear, leading to increasingly bitter fights. Remus had begged Sirius to be more careful, and cursed the reckless selfishness of his refusal; Sirius insisted the struggle against the Ministry was worth any risk, accusing Remus of being weak and complacent.
It had been so obvious to Remus that he only got angry at Sirius putting himself in danger because he loved him so much. It’s only now, with the benefit of hindsight and a lot of time to think on the matter, that Remus wonders if it hadn’t been so obvious to Sirius.
When Sirius returns it’s night and Remus has made his mind up. If there’s the faintest chance that Sirius might really want him, he’s not going to do anything to sabotage that. He’s going to do better this time.
‘I was just scared,’ he says by way of apology. ‘I worry about you.’
Sirius sits down beside him, on top of the covers on their narrow bed. His expression is much softer now, and he nods. ‘I know,’ he says, gentle enough that Remus knows he’s forgiven. ‘Moony, I really don’t know what to do. You say you love me but it seems like it’s a burden. I hate making you miserable.’
It sounds dangerously like Sirius is preparing to back away to spare Remus’ feelings. Remus can’t be having that.
‘It’s not a burden,’ says Remus, almost truthfully. His love for Sirius has never felt like a burden, though the lack of reciprocation has. ‘And I’m not miserable. Apart from today, I’ve really enjoyed the past few weeks.’
‘Good.’ Sirius smiles, and Remus feels glad to have said the right thing. Eager to press home the advantage, he cups the back of Sirius’ head with his hand, and pulls him down to kiss him.
Sirius returns the kiss eagerly, his earlier annoyance seemingly forgotten. Remus tugs his shirt open, eager to lose himself in the rush of sex, to let Sirius flood his senses and overwhelm his mind. Sirius is warm, vibrant, and he’s here, and that’s all Remus wants.
#
The days turn warmer as their destination grows near, and the final leg of their journey is both tense and wonderful. In many ways his relationship with Sirius feels idyllic; they talk and laugh and have amazing sex, and Remus doesn’t think he’s ever felt closer to anyone in his entire life. Sirius has changed, just a bit. He’s gentler now, less abrasive than he was back in London. His moments of acerbic wit are fewer, his capacity for kindness on show more frequently. He’s as warm and affectionate with Remus as any lover.
And yet, the inevitability of separation looms large. Remus promised Sirius would be free to go his own way, no strings attached, once they land and it’s a promise he intends to keep. Sirius takes to spending hours on deck, persuading sea birds to take letters to shore and, amazingly, it works. The day he gets a reply back from Lily and James he’s excited fit to burst.
‘They made it!’ he cries, thrusting the letter into Remus’ hands. ‘They’re safe, they’re alive!’
Remus glances down at the brief note in James’s scrawl. Fortunately he’s familiar enough with his old friend’s handwriting to decipher that Lily and James have a house in Godric’s Hollow, not far from the port of Hogsmeade, and that they’ve invited Remus and Sirius to stay with them until they find a place of their own.
Whatever his reservations about that, Remus is genuinely delighted. Lily and James had fled the country illegally, almost a year previously, and hadn’t been heard from in months. The prospect of seeing them again, knowing they are safe and well, fills him with joy.
‘Nearly there, Moony,’ says Sirius, enveloping Remus in a bone crushing hug. ‘It’s going to be amazing.’
Remus says nothing, just leans into Sirius’ embrace. Not so long ago Sirius was an angry, reckless man, blinded by his hatred of the tyrannical Ministry and the world in general that an early death or Azkaban had seemed almost inevitable. Now he’s the best Remus has ever seen him, brilliant and free, just as he should be. Even if Remus is about to lose him, it’ll all have been worth it to make Sirius so happy.
#
It’s strange being back on dry land after so many months at sea. Remus feels queasy, like the ground is moving beneath his feet, for all he knows it’s steady and still.
‘It happens,’ says Rosmerta, landlady of the Inn they’re staying at while Sirius prepares for the trip to Godric’s Hollow. ‘Mal de debarquement, some people feel a bit off for a few days. Don’t worry, you’ll be right as rain soon enough.’
Remus hopes that’s true, but wonders if he’s really just waiting for his land legs to return, or if it’s the knowledge that he and Sirius are coming to the end of their journey that’s upsetting his equilibrium. Sirius had kissed him and told him to take it easy before going out alone that morning to arrange delivery of their trunks and transportation to Godric’s Hollow. Remus sits in the lounge sipping ginger beer and trying not to panic.
An engine roars outside and Remus knows instinctively its Sirius. He hurries out to the street, where he sees Sirius sitting astride the most enormous motorcycle Remus as ever seen. Of course, what else did he expect? Sirius looks sexier than ever, his long legs just touching the ground, dark hair wild without a helmet.
‘Fancy a ride?’ he calls.
Nausea forgotten, Remus agrees at once, climbing up behind Sirius and wrapping his arms around his waist. Sirius takes him on a brief, exhilarating tour of the harbour. The engine is riotously loud, the roads bumpy, and Remus has to bury his face in Sirius’ back to shield him for the spray of sand and stones. It’s wonderful.
‘You’re really going to ride that thing all the way to Godric’s Hollow?’ asks Remus once the ride is over. ‘I thought some of the terrain was too rocky for light vehicles.’
‘It is,’ confirms Sirius. ‘That’s why I’m going to enchant it to fly.’
‘Oh, just like that.’
‘You think I can’t do it?’
Remus looks at him and laughs. He’s never felt more in love. ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment.’
#
Remus keeps his peace until almost the last minute, when Sirius is practically out the door. They’re perched on the roof of the Inn, enjoying the view of the port at night, lights from countless ships sparkling across an inky sea. Remus needed somewhere peaceful, and a little help from the bottle of Firewhisky he and Sirius have been passing between them, to finally speak up.
‘What do you mean, you’re not coming?’ asks Sirius. ‘Lily and James are expecting us.’
‘They’re expecting you, Padfoot,’ Remus explains. ‘I wrote to them this afternoon. Rosmerta’s already agreed to let me stay on a while.’
‘I don’t understand,’ says Sirius. ‘Are you leaving me?’
Remus almost laughs at that. ‘I’m letting you go. I said I would.’
‘What the fuck are you on about?’ Sirius sounds petulant, a generous amount of Firewhisky in his belly.
‘We had an agreement. I help you get to Hogsmeade, and then you can go your own way.’
‘That was a long time ago,’ says Sirius, clearly irritated. ‘Things have changed. I’ve changed. Don’t be like this, you must know I – ’
‘– Don’t!’ Remus interrupts sharply.
Sirius looks mutinous. ‘OK, fine. What if I want to stay with you?’
‘I’ll be here,’ says Remus. ‘Go. Do your thing. Be sure what you really want.’
‘How long?’
Remus swallows heavily. ‘A month.’ It’s long enough for Sirius to get over any feelings of guilt or obligation, for any passing fancy to fade.
‘Right,’ says Sirius with a tight nod. ‘Have it your way.’
There’s not much left to be said. Later, in bed, they lie back to back, barely speaking. It’s little comfort that Sirius’ reaction hadn’t been quite as bad as Remus had feared. He misses Sirius desperately already, but he knows he has to do this. He can’t keep indulging his fantasies of a perfect marriage, and he won’t be Sirius’ gaoler.
Remus sleeps fitfully, and when he awakes the other side of the bed is empty. He pulls on a threadbare dressing gown and rushes downstairs, where he finds Sirius ready and waiting to go beside his fully-loaded bike. It’s early, the streets almost empty and the sky pink with dawn.
‘This isn’t over,’ says Sirius. Before Remus can ask what that means Sirius kisses him once, on the corner of his mouth, then slings his leg over the bike and revs the engine. In a moment he’s moving off in a cloud of dust, and seconds later the bike takes to the sky.
It seems to Remus that watching the ever shrinking dot of Sirius disappearing is like watching a bird fly to freedom. All too soon, Sirius is gone, and Remus is left wondering whether he’s being noble or foolish.
#
The days pass, and Remus’ hopes of Sirius returning fade. An owl arrives from James – he’s here, everything’s fine, you’re an idiot – but Sirius doesn’t write. He would, Remus thinks, if he wanted to work things out.
The apothecarist visits a week before full moon. He doesn’t tell Remus who paid for the Wolfsbane and though it’s more likely to be Sirius than James, Remus has learnt better than to get his hopes up. He thinks it tastes even worse than it did when Sirius used to make it for him, but maybe he’s just imagining things.
Remus falls into a listless despondency, not quite heartbroken but increasingly sure he’s about to be. He considers and decides against writing to Sirius, going after him, even taking off somewhere else on one of the many ships that come and go from the port. More than one evening he spends in the bar, drowning in Firewhisky and self-pity. Once or twice he gets chatted up by other patrons – port towns are full of people looking for casual sex – and Remus is almost tempted. It’s one way of moving on, proving to himself that he’s accepted that his marriage was only ever one of convenience and is at an end anyway.
Adultery or not, though, there’s something viscerally disgusting about sex with someone else, and Remus can’t bring himself to go through with it. He chastises himself, ashamed by turn of considering it and not going through with it. Is he disloyal, or a hostage to romantic folly?
It’s only a month he keeps telling himself. A couple more weeks, so many more days, Remus counts time until the month will be up and he can stop teetering between hope and despair. Only a month. It feels like forever.
#
Time’s up, and Remus can’t sleep again. He gets up when it’s still dark, showers, tidies the room, and heads into town to run some errands for Rosmerta. Only the baker is up and at work, the heavenly scent of bread mingling with the damp salt aroma that pervades Hogsmeade. On his way back to the Inn Remus totes up jobs he can do to distract him during the day, and wishes he’d made firmer arrangements with Sirius.
Sirius doesn’t keep him waiting, though. He arrives as Remus is finishing an early breakfast, striding into the Inn and somehow looking even handsomer that Remus remembers. There had been no engine sounds to herald his arrival, so either he’s put Silencing Charms on it or he’s left the bike behind. Less easy to explain is the fact that he’s carrying a lifebuoy, rather like the ones on board The Phoenix.
‘Hello, Moony,’ he says. ‘Miss me?’
Remus opts to play it cool, though he thinks his sleeve may be lying in a puddle of spilt pumpkin juice. ‘Oh, did you go somewhere?’
Sirius laughs and sits down, stealing a piece of toast from Remus’ plate. ‘You could say I’ve been busy. Want to see?’
Charmed despite his nerves, Remus smiles. ‘Why not? I’ve got a free morning.’
‘Let’s not hang about. Portkey is the quickest way to travel,’ says Sirius, slinging the lifebuoy onto the table. Ah, so that’s what it’s for. Remus takes hold of it without stopping to ask where they’re going, and in a moment there’s a twist and a tug to his stomach as the Portkey yanks him and Sirius away.
They land in a garden, or what could be a garden, an uncultivated patch of land behind a house with whitewashed walls. The house sits on the edge of a small town, uphill, and Remus can see a mass of roofs, roads, and parks beneath them. There are birds Remus doesn’t recognise singing in the trees, and the air is sweet with the scent of blossom.
‘Welcome to Godric’s Hollow,’ says Sirius as Remus surveys the town. It looks so ordinary – the style of the architecture isn’t like anything in Britain, and the buildings seem more neatly arranged in squares and rows. In essence, though, it’s like any other he’s seen. There’s a river, fields full of crops on the outskirts, a busy area that looks like the local version of the High Street or Diagon Alley, and here and there much larger buildings, which might be schools, or hospitals, or maybe a factory. The town seems to grow out of the hollow, homes creeping up the hillside and farms stretching out across the flat lands below.
Sirius points to a house a little way down the hillside, handsome with a slate roof and a sturdy oak behind. ‘Lily and James live there,’ he says, then moves his finger to indicate a grey building on the edge of a green field. ‘The sports centre, that’s where James works. Not just Quidditch either, you should see some of the things people get up to here. And over there is where Lily works, the Centre for Research, Innovation and Magical Exploration. She loves talking about her life in CRIME.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t asked her for a job,’ says Remus.
‘Actually, I have. Just helping out for now, and I’m going to cover for Lily when she has the baby.’
‘Lily’s pregnant?’ Remus smiles and shakes his head in disbelief. Everything – everyone – really is moving on. James is going to be a father. How wonderful and astonishing.
‘Due at the end of July. I’m going to be godfather,’ says Sirius, his face a picture of pride and joy. He reaches out and takes Remus’ hand, the lifebuoy lying forgotten in the grass. ‘C’mon, let me show you inside.’
He gives Remus a tour of the house, stopping now and then to point out the kitchen tiles he’d painted himself, the chimney he’d found birds nesting in, the bannister he’d broken trying to float a new bathtub upstairs. It’s a nice house, full of light and air, warm and ready to be lived in. Remus can see himself being very comfortable here, if he isn’t getting ahead of himself and jumping to conclusions.
It feels like Sirius is trying to impress him, to get him to stay, but what if he’s just showing Remus how well he’s done on his own? But Sirius also tells him about the school that’s expanding because of the arrival of refugee children and looking for teachers, how the prejudice against werewolves isn’t quite so cruel as in their homeland, and there’s a window box somewhere that would be just perfect for Blasting Bellflowers.
Any lingering doubts fade when Sirius concludes the tour not just in the bedroom, but by insisting that Remus try out the bed. It’s a vast, luxurious thing with crisp white sheets and fluffy pillows, and all the better for having Sirius in it.
It’s a world away from his damp and lonely bedsit back in London, or the cramped cabin he’d shared with Sirius and a mess of insecurity. Remus had thought of Hogsmeade as their destination, but now it seems like a step on the way. Perhaps that’s what life with Sirius will be like, perpetual motion.
Remus rather likes the idea.
‘You’ve got a lovely house,’ he says, because he wants to hear Sirius correct him. It’s our house.
Naturally Sirius isn’t fooled for a moment. ‘I can sell it,’ he says. ‘Buy something else for both of us. Split the cash to give you a start as a professional gambler while I move back into the Potter’s spare room. The house can go if you don’t want it.’
‘I want it,’ says Remus, rolling onto his side to get closer to Sirius. ‘I want you. I want… all of it.’
Sirius smiles, warm and sincere. ‘Can I say it now?’ he asks. ‘Will you listen?’
There’s a lump in Remus’ throat and even if he knew how, he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he just nods.
‘I love you,’ says Sirius, and then he kisses Remus, brief and sweet. ‘I love you,’ he repeats, over and over, each time punctuated with a kiss.
Remus lets himself unravel under Sirius’ attention, for once certain he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. He’s happier than he’s ever been and best of all, it’s not an ending. He and Sirius have everything to look forward to, together. Remus won’t forget what his life was, brought low by Ministerial repression and loneliness but it’s in the past. They’re free, and Sirius loves him.
‘I love you too,’ says Remus, thrilled to have the chance to for the very first time. Sirius smiles at him, and he knows it won’t be the last.
They’ve travelled halfway around the world to find each other, and they’re never going back.