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Lie low at Lupin's.
A very odd suggestion from Dumbledore, Sirius thought to himself bitterly as he walked down the spiral staircase. What was he thinking? Had he forgotten? Maybe, he was doing in on purpose? And what was going to happen to Harry, left scared and alone in the magnificent office upstairs?
Sirius did not find it easy to leave Harry at such a sensitive moment. He knew his godson was safe as long as Dumbledore was watching him, but he felt guilty for the time he hadn't been able to be present in the boy's life, the time Harry was forced to spend with those awful Muggles. If he had only caught that filthy, lying rat a year ago…
But he was already used to shoving this thought deep into his mind, without dwelling on it too much. Yes, if he had caught Peter that night, he would have been a free man right now and harry could live with him – but you can't turn back the clock. Peter escaped. This time, a new piece of information joined this thought, and Sirius almost couldn't believe it – if he had caught Wormtail, the Dark Lord wouldn't have returned. The air was thick with uncertainty, and all Sirius could do was to pray that it wouldn't be as bad at the first time. The battles, the colorful flashes of light and the fear, the unbearable fear that the next victim would be someone close to him, still haunted him and interrupted his sleep sometimes. He's never told anyone about it.
Before entering the dark hallway, he changed into the big, black dog that has accompanied him since he was fifteen and continued to walk in the empty hallways towards the big entrance doors. He couldn't repress the slight excitement that awakened in him when he thought about his next destination – Remus Lupin's house. The house had been full of distant, shattered memories of the most beautiful times of their lives, just before everything went wrong. It was clear to him that things between them weren't going to be like they had been before, when he gets there, but he couldn't imagine how they would be.
A warm, summery breeze greeted him as he walked outside the castle. He crossed the large lawn towards the gates, and the silence around him was torturing. It wasn't a calm silence; it was terrifying and sad. A boy was murdered tonight, and the maze he had entered before his dead body appeared on the grass of the Quidditch field was still standing. Sirius could see it, and felt shivers down his spine. Somewhere, perhaps not too far away, Lord Voldemort was standing on his own feet for the first time in thirteen years. Sirius had seen him last time, and the sight still haunted him.
the dog sneaked out past the large gates and hid behind a curve in the high walls. He returned to his human form and disapparated immediately.
He apparated right into his old hiding spot, where he used to apparate every time he had visited Remus. Remus lived at the far end of a quiet Muggle neighborhood, and its residents would probably not be pleased to encounter a long haired, dirty man with a wand in his hand who just appeared out of thin air in the middle of the street. Therefore, Sirius had used the narrow space between a big dumpster and a playground's fence as his apparition spot. He got out of there, as a dog again, and started walking down the street towards Remus's house. He had visited this street a few times since his escape from Azkaban, but never did anything other than sitting in front of Remus's house, in his dog form. He had done it only when he was sure Remus was asleep and wouldn't see him, because Sirius had known that if he would, Remus would recognize him immediately. Sirius just wanted to feel a little closer to him.
He reached the last house in the street, a small and unkempt house with a yard covered by weeds. He pushed the metal gate with his nose and slowly marched towards the front door. Sirius felt his heart beating faster and faster. He was still shocked that he was about to live with Remus again, and didn't know how long this situation was going to last. He looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and changed into his human form for the last time before knocking on the door.
A lean figure, slightly taller than him opened the door. Sirius knew it was Remus, but it took him a moment to recognize his face. It was almost not familiar to him anymore, new scars and a greying stubble concealing the honey-colored eyes and the old scars Sirius hadn't forgotten yet.
"Dumbledore – " Sirius started explaining in a shaky voice, but Remus interrupted him.
"I know. Come in."
Remus moved aside and let Sirius in, closing the door behind him. Both men looked at each other for a moment, considering how to react to their gloomy reunion. Sirius tried to learn every little detail in the face he once knew, and suddenly felt older than ever before.
"I missed you," he said finally. "In Azkaban. And also since the night that… you know. Even when you knew it wasn't me."
Remus looked at him with a confused expression on his face. During this last year, he couldn't decide how he felt about Sirius. The chaos of emotions and the surprising turns that just wouldn't stop coming had made it impossible for him to think clearly. He couldn't be mad at Sirius, but how are you supposed to go back to loving someone, when for twelve years you've thought he had betrayed and murdered your closest friends?
"I… It's good to see you," replied Remus with an attempt of a tired smile. "You should take a shower. I'll lend you some of my clothes."
Sirius nodded. "Thank you."
When he exited the bathroom, Remus wasn't there anymore. On the couch in the living room he found a blanket and a pillow, and he assumed Remus had left them there for him before he went to sleep. Sirius wasn't even disappointed – he didn't expect Remus to suggest that he joins him in the bedroom like he had done many years ago, even though he couldn't think of something he wouldn't give up to get this option right now. He found comfort in the feeling of Remus's overly big clothing against his body. Remus's scent had stuck to them, and Sirius inhaled it with longing. For him, this scent meant home. He lay on the couch and covered himself with the blanket, looking up at the ceiling.
Remus's scent, the familiar house – both flooded Sirius with forgotten memories. Kisses, caresses, hundreds of "I love you"'s. Long, dark hair mixing with the light curls that Sirius couldn't stop touching, skin against skin and scars Sirius just loved to kiss, while Remus's breath was taken away. He couldn't understand how Sirius knew him so well, how he knew exactly where to find every scar, how he could trace them with his fingers or his lips with his eyes closed. When it was over, they would collapse together on the bed and Remus would wrap his long arms around Sirius, plant a small kiss on his forehead and fall asleep. Sirius's fingers would travel across the taller man's chest for a few minutes before he fell asleep as well. The war was hard, and these moments were the only thing keeping them sane through it. They would miss their peaceful times at Hogwarts, and this thought amused Sirius since he had been sent to Azkaban – if he only knew, during the war, that his life would become so difficult that he would miss the times where nothing was certain but at least he had Remus…
The memory washed over him, happy, beautiful and powerful – the kind of memory you would use to summon a Patronus. Since his escape, he'd never tried producing one of these, and he wasn't sure he was still capable of it. The dementors had taken too much from him.
He closed his eyes, trying to recreate the details.
He and Remus were running across the muddy lawns towards the castle, the heavy rain and the freezing wintry wind hitting them constantly, despite their warm robes. They didn't stop laughing all along the way, clinging to each other for warmth. They ran through the hallways towards Gryffindor Tower, leaving behind them a trail of mud and yells from Filch. They climbed through the passageway behind the painting of the fat lady and found the common room just as they had expected – empty, since they were the only student to stay at Hogwarts on Christmas. They crossed the room and climbed up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. When they reached a door carrying a small sign reading "Seventh Year", they opened it, giggling, and entered the room. They closed the door behind them and removed their soaking coats, crashing together on Remus's bed, who lay on his back with Sirius clinging to his side in order to get a little warmer. Remus wrapped one arm around him and covered them both with a heavy blanket, which made Sirius close his eyes and take a deep breath, letting his boyfriend's scent wash over him.
"How come you always smell so good?" he asked with quiet laughter, holding Remus's free hand.
Remus let out a snort. "You only think that because you never smell good, so your standards aren't high."
Sirius let go of Remus's hand and hit him weakly on him stomach, which made Remus flinch and caused both boys to burst into laughter. Sirius's hand found Remus's again, and he stroked it and played with his boyfriend's fingers affectionately. They were surprisingly cold.
"Are you cold?" He asked with slight worry in his voice and wrapped his fingers around Remus's, trying to warm them up. The rain was hitting the windows as if asking to get in the warm room, and occasionally a flash of light was seen through the windows, followed by a thunder.
"A little," Remus admitted, "but luckily we're inside now and you're here to keep me warm." He smiled softly and Sirius pulled the blanket tightly around them, clinging to the beautifully scarred body in an attempt to share his body's heat.
"And you're alright?" the taller boy asked and his arm tightened a little around Sirius. "Are you warm enough?"
Sirius nodded against the chest he liked to press his head to, listening to the heartbeat inside it and thanking destiny, the stars in the sky and maybe God as well for every single beat. He absolutely loved Remus's heart, and in the mornings after full moons Sirius would kiss the skin above this heart to remind Remus that he's not a monster – and that he has the most human, loving and kind heart in the world.
Sirius continued playing with the long, pale fingers and distractedly, his fingers slid to the small area of exposed skin around Remus's wrist and started caressing the scars, slowly, with the most gentle and experienced touch the taller boy had ever experienced.
"Do you like them?" Remus asked quietly.
Sirius looked up with surprise and his fingers stopped moving over the pale skin. He tried to read the expression on his boyfriend's face and lifted himself up a little to get a better look at him, the blanked hanging above him like a tent. He leaned on one elbow which was placed on the bed, and his other arm was resting softly on Remus's chest, his fingers still around his wrist.
"What do you mean?"
"The scars. Why do you like them so much? You keep touching them," Remus explained. His gaze met Sirius's, and he couldn't stop staring into the grey eyes, trying to figure out the meaning of the strange expression in them.
"Remus…" Sirius murmured, letting go of Remus's hand to reach out for his cheek and stroke it softly. "I love them, they're a part of you. And I love you. You know that, right?"
The werewolf, now lying underneath him, gave him a confused look. "What?"
"You heard me."
The confused look didn't leave Remus's face. The wind whistled loudly outside and slammed branched of trees against the castle's windows, forcing the leaves to rub against each other with great noise. "Sirius, you've never told me that. How was I supposed to know?"
The shorter boy was silent for a moment, thinking. Remus was right – they've been together for several months, and he's never actually said the words out loud. He thought it was so clear that he loved Remus, he was sure it was impossible to miss it in the way he looked at him and talked about him and touched him.
"You're right," he said finally. "I'm sorry, Remus. You deserved to know."
Sirius expected Remus to close off, get offended. He wouldn't blame him if he did, but instead, a glorious smile covered Remus's face. Sirius tried to engrave the sight into his memory.
"I love you," Remus said and kissed Sirius on his lips. Sirius returned the kiss happily, caressing the soft skin of Remus's cheek under his fingers. He shifted his arm in a way that forced Sirius to lie almost completely on top of him – which made Sirius slip a small, surprised sound. Remus seemed to like the feedback, as he reached out with his free hand to Sirius's long, dark hair and ran his fingers through it. With the reassuring arm around him and the gentle fingers through his hair, Sirius felt like he was melting into Remus. How could he not to? It seemed that the werewolf took advantage of his long acquaintanceship with Sirius to touch exactly what he had known to be his boyfriend's weakest spots, the ones that caused him to lose every little bit of dignity and left him with butterflies in his stomach of which he didn't dare to tell anyone, holding on to Remus as if his life depended on it and the look in his eyes begging for another kiss.
Remus was the one to break the kiss, slightly out of breath. Sirius panted a little too. He buried his face into Remus's shoulder, in a perfect position to cover the gorgeous skin of his boyfriend's neck with tiny kisses. Occasionally Remus let out a small giggle or a delighted moan, which made Sirius wish he could go on like this forever. The trail of kisses started traveling upwards, crossing the jawline and stalling shortly on the cheek before finishing with a small kiss on the lips.
"Say it again," Sirius murmured with a giant smile, his face centimeters away from Remus's. His gaze was still resting upon his boyfriend's tempting lips, and he raised it to meet the brown eyes when he didn't get a reply.
"That's not how it works," Remus laughed. "If you won't say it twice, I won't say it twice."
Sirius joined the quiet laughter and planted another short kiss on the taller boy's lips. His chest was pressed against Remus's, one hand on his cheek and the other on the bed beside him.
"Please?"
"No!" Remus laughed teasingly and stroked Sirius's back affectionately. His laughter warmed Sirius's heart so much, he had forgotten about the storm outside. Remus's smile was blinding and his chest vibrated with his beautiful laugh, and Sirius couldn't think of a better place to be.
"Please?" Sirius repeated, but the answer didn't change.
"No."
Sirius placed his hand on Remus's heart, searching for his pulse through the soft jumper. When he couldn't find it, he slipped his hand underneath it and pressed his hand against the warm skin of Remus's chest. Sirius kissed Remus on his forehead, a little softer and longer than usual, and whispered his request again.
"Please?"
Remus rolled his eyes in protest, but he couldn't resist Sirius's soft and quiet whisper. And like that, he started planting tiny kisses all over his boyfriend's face, whispering a quiet "I love you" every now and then.
Sirius opened his eyes again, and came back to the present. The only thing before his eyes was the peeling paint on the ceiling, and now, even though he was the closest to Remus he's been in many years, he felt like they were never further apart. Looking back, he felt stupid for using this memory to summon a Patronus before his time in Azkaban. He almost snorted with ridicule at the thought of himself, sixteen years old, holding on to Remus's heartbeat without knowing that in three years he would strive to feel this heartbeat just to make sure Remus was still alive. Every evening during the war he would wait at home, and when Remus passed through the door, Sirius hugged him silently. He would press his cheek against Remus's chest, just for a moment, to make sure the heart underneath it was still beating.
Now, when Sirius was lying on the warty couch and was having a hard time letting sleep take over him, he thought that maybe a familiar heartbeat could help him. He rejected the thought immediately. So many years of mistrust, separation and even hatred – years during which Remus was sure Sirius has ruined his life. Was it even possible to overcome this enormous abyss between them? Sirius wondered whether he was even capable of the delicacy in which he used to touch Remus. It surprised him again, how much had been taken away from him by the dementors. He'd never stopped finding new things that were missing, and the feeling of helplessness in his stomach grew stronger with every new discovery.
With this depressing thought, Sirius fell asleep. He was woken up early in the next morning by a loud noise, and jumped up immediately. Loud noises still scared him since the war. He tried to locate the noise's source, and when he walked into the kitchen he found Remus standing next to a shattered china cup on the floor. Remus noticed the new presence in the room and looked up at Sirius.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, understanding that his little accident had woken Sirius up. "I dropped it."
"It's okay," Sirius said tiredly. "I'll help you clean up."
Remus opened his mouth to talk, and closed it again when he struggled to find his words. "No… It's…" he stuttered. "It's fine. I'll clean it."
Sirius shook his head. "Make us tea and I'll handle it, alright?"
Remus nodded. The communication difficulty, the unnatural way in which they were talking, they both jarred Sirius as he pulled out his stolen wand and made the broken pieces of china huddle into a pile. Everything between them used to be so natural, every time they touched each other their bodies would fit together like a puzzle and every time they talked they would finish each other's sentences. Sirius threw the broken mug into the bin when Remus placed two steamy mugs on the small table. He sat down and grabbed one of them, and Sirius sat down opposite to him.
"How are you doing?" Sirius asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.
Remus looked up at him with a sad look in his eyes. Tiredness and exhaustion radiated from his face, his pale skin and his greying hair. "I'm alright."
Sirius sighed. "Remus, I haven't talked to you in thirteen years but this lie is so obvious that I would be insulted if you thought I wouldn't recognize it."
"It's not easy, but it never was," was the werewolf's empty reply.
These meaningless words frustrated Sirius, and he took a sip from his tea. He was desperate to recreate the trust they once had. Remus had never been the sharing kind, but Sirius knew his soul was overflowing and he needed a place to unload a little bit of this heavy burden. And slowly, he had gained Remus's trust. In moment of silence, Remus would whisper his troubles to Sirius. He had spoken only to Sirius like this, and only in a whisper.
"Remus," he said and tried to force his face into a warm smile. "Talk to me."
Remus looked at him with slight surprise, and Sirius wondered whether he imagined a glimpse of a young, amused look in Remus's face, or was it really there. Either way, his eyes were sad again when he spoke. "It's hard, Sirius. I'm lonely and unemployed, and sick, and old. The transformations are only getting harder."
Sirius felt his heart twitch. He felt a desperate need to make the pain go away, but after so many years in that horrible place, he wasn't sure he knew how. Hesitantly, he reached out and placed his hand over Remus's, barely touching him. He felt the rugged hand underneath his own flinch for a moment, and then relax. The taller men's tired eyes looked at him with distant longing, with nostalgia.
"I don’t know how much time you're going to spend here," Remus changed the subject. "Maybe we should clean up a little."
Sirius nodded silently, but neither of them moved. They drank their tea in silence, their hands touching gently. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was a tiny drop of warmth in a frozen ocean of uncertainty, and both of them held on to it for dear life. When they finished their tea, Sirius squeezed Remus's hand softly before getting up and clearing the table.
"I'll… start with the living room," Remus said and turned to the couch, folding the blanket Sirius had used the night before. "Could you toss away the garbage from the dresser by the door?"
Sirius nodded and walked towards the front door. Next to it stood an old dresser, so dusty that Sirius couldn't tell what its original color was. He started pulling old quills and parchments from the drawers, and the automatic activity allowed him to drown into his thoughts again. He hoped to find among the piles of garbage an old letter, or a photograph – something to remind him of his previous life, that Remus might have accidentally kept. The house was so empty of this kind of little souvenirs, that Sirius started to suspect that Remus had gotten rid of them on purpose. The dresser wasn't any different – most of the parchment pieces in it were empty or drenched with old ink. When he thought his work on the dresser was finished, he noticed a small box pushed to the back of the bottom drawer. He pulled it out curiously and examined it. It was wooden and simple, an elegant pattern carved into its top half. He opened it, and felt confusion rising in him at the sight.
Inside, resting on a small and white pillow, there was a ring. It didn't seem expensive at all, but it was very graceful. Sirius picked it up carefully, and his heart skipped a beat when he read the inscription on the ring's inner side. "Sirius, the Stars to My Moon(y)."
Under different circumstances, he probably would have found this inscription amusing and sweet, but he was so shocked that he dropped the ring and the box to the floor. The noise startled Remus, who gave Sirius a confused look. His gaze wandered down and when he saw the ring and the box on the floor, he collapsed into the couch and buried his face in his hands. The understanding of what just happened washed over him and he felt panic closing on his throat.
"Sirius, I…"
"You…" Sirius mumbled, an aggravating lump in his throat blocking most of his voice. "You wanted to give this to me?"
Remus nodded silently. For what could have been a second or a year, they couldn't tell, neither of them said anything. Sirius picked the box and the ring up from the floor and marched slowly to the couch, sitting heavily next to Remus. For a moment, Sirius just looked at him, before speaking again in a hoarse voice.
"I could've been married to you."
The werewolf looked up at him with glittering, sad eyes and nodded. Anger was rising in Sirius's mind, anger at Voldemort and Peter and the war and the entire fucking world. He'd never felt so betrayed by his own fate, never felt that something was taken from him with such cruelty. The life he was supposed to have, and instead he spent twelve years in Azkaban and another year in hiding, on the run, in misery and loneliness.
The urge to scream, to break something almost won him over, but it subsided completely when he felt a warm hand on his thigh, stroking it so gently that its movement was almost undetectable. Remus was horrified at how boney and narrow Sirius's thigh was, as he remembered it to be so strong and healthy. When Sirius looked at him again, his anger was replaced with a feeling he couldn't quite name. He saw the broken expression on the face of his Moony, his high school sweetheart, his best friend, and something inside him snapped. Remus's face expressed years of loneliness, illness and pain; of social banishment and a strong belief that he was a monster; of twelve years of thinking the person he had planned to marry had murdered his closest friends.
Sirius struggled to speak again. "I'm sorry."
The taller man was surprised to hear this apology, but didn't remove his hand from Sirius's thigh – who correctly interpreted the silence as lack of understanding and tried to explain himself. "I'm sorry I had to face Wormtail. I was careless, I knew I was walking right into his trap and I didn't care about myself, but I've never even stopped for a moment and thought about you."
Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius kept on talking in a stream of torturing regret. "It's not the first time I've done it, Remus. That prank with Snape? I was so young, so stupid, too proud to understand – "
Remus interrupted him. "Sirius, it was a long time ago. I've forgiven you."
The other man stayed silent. He placed his hand over Remus's, who made a small movement to intertwine their fingers. Sirius's rough voice broke the silence again.
"We could've been married. We could've had a home, and pets, and… a child. Fuck, Remus, if I hadn't gone there I could've fulfilled my responsibilities as a godfather, we could've raised Harry, and he would've never had to deal with those Muggles. I could've been with you on every full moon, on every morning after…"
Remus was still silent, and just squeezed Sirius's hand lightly. They sat in silence, and Remus examined the hand he was holding, which was different than he remembered but still felt a little familiar. It was decorated with new scars he didn't recognize, and he tried to learn them, to memorize their features.
"What are you going to do with it?" Sirius asked quietly and presented Remus with the ring with his free hand.
"Nothing," Remus replied in a hollow, almost cold voice. To Sirius's questioning look he replied, "God, Sirius, I haven't seen you in years. I'd hated you for over a decade, I went to the funeral alone. I was sure you had ruined my life, that you killed James, Lily and Peter."
The questioning look was replaced with an insulted one, which awakened a hint of anger in Remus's voice. "Sirius, you ought to understand! You had been the best thing to ever happen to me, and then you became the worst thing to ever happen to me – "
Sirius tried to talk, but Remus had a feeling that he already knew the answer, even though he hadn't heard the question. "I know it wasn't your fault, but for too long I thought it was."
The silence became tense, heavy. Remus's words were left hung in the air and he was still holding Sirius's hand, despite the clear anger in his voice – perhaps unaware that he was still doing so. After taking a deep breath, he spoke again. "It might pop up again, but Sirius… We need time."
Sirius nodded with sadness. "And you still love me?"
"Yes," Remus replied immediately, and Sirius allowed himself to rest his head against the werewolf's broad shoulder. He planted a small kiss, probably the gentlest he's ever given anyone, on an old and familiar scar on Remus's neck. "More than you think."