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23rd of December, 1976
The Gryffindor common-room, to Sirius’ mind, was always at least slightly Christmas-themed; with red and gold furnishings, open hearths, and a certain plush warm-cozyness which permeated every little corner of the tower he called home.
It could not have been more different from Grimmauld Place. It was warm. It was light. It was happy .
No screaming Walburga or looming, oppressive Orion; no treacherous, bigoted Regulus or simpering, pathetic Kreacher. No dark and gloomy furnishings, no stuffy rooms filled with useless and expensive junk.
Sirius had left all that behind last summer, escaped to the Potter’s; but sometimes he still found it hard to believe that he never had to go back. That he was free .
He breathed deep the scent of pine resin, and smiled.
He had to remind himself that nowadays, this tower — and his life — was full to the brim with good things.
Speaking of which, the very best thing that both Gryffindor tower and his life had to offer was currently scarfing down a gingerbread cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree, and goddamn it , that shouldn’t have even been attractive, but somehow it definitely was.
Remus’ eyes met Sirius’ over the cookie, and he grinned. There were crumbs on his jumper — a hideous woolen thing, incidentally, and one that Sirius wouldn’t ever dream of replacing — and for a moment Sirius contemplated plucking one from the fibres of the woolen monstrosity, just to have an excuse to touch Remus.
But eating a crumb off your best mate’s jumper violates certain boundaries; boundaries that Sirius has been working increasingly hard to observe these past months.
Some of his torment must have shown in his face, because Remus quirked a questioning eyebrow at Sirius, his mouth and tongue doing sinful things to his fingers — ostensibly in the name of licking them clean, the cookie now fully devoured.
“Alright, Pads?”
Sirius blinked. He had been doing that thing again, he knew. That thing where he stared at Remus like a starving man might stare at a perfectly-cooked restaurant steak. One with those delectable grill-lines and the slightest hint of pink juiciness in the middle.
Damn, now Sirius was both aroused and hungry.
“Yeah.” He croaked. “Just… Just a bit peckish.”
Remus gave him a funny sort of look, like he knew something was up. “Well, I ate all the cookies and I’m not sorry.” He shrugged carelessly, and by the gods, did careless shrugging look good on his dear Moony. “But maybe Peter has some extra stashed away?”
“Right.” Sirius nodded dumbly.
He got to his feet, traipsing up to their dormitory to pretend to look for cookies under Wormtail’s bed. He’d slink back down in a little while, proclaiming that he’d had no success. He had to keep up appearances of being hungry , and not, as was actually the case, hopelessly in love with his very dear, very male friend.
If Sirius was honest with himself, Remus’ maleness was not the only factor getting in the way of the formation of any meaningful romantic connection. The real reason, he admitted to himself as he took the stairs to the dormitory two at a time, was the Lycanthropy Thing.
Not that Sirius cared at all, oh no, he would have loved Moony even if he was part-fish — and not just because the idea of a Remus-Lupin-Merman was objectively sexy (Sirius carefully set that fantasy aside, to be circled back to at a later time).
The fact was, Sirius didn’t care if Remus was always going to be sick and grumpy one week out of four; didn’t care that Remus was actually pretty dangerous for twelve nights a year, and Sirius very particularly didn’t give a fig for what People Would Say.
Sirius didn’t care — but Remus did.
Sirius remembered The Conversation; the one that had occurred under the warm buzz of too much Firewhiskey sometime during 1975; their fifth year.
James was bemoaning Evans, as usual, and Peter was after some bird from his Muggle Studies class. Sirius was already half-in-love with Remus but trying very hard not to be, and consequently had spent a lot of the evening overcompensating with talk of how very attractive he found one Marlene McKinnon (Marlene was beautiful, Sirius did like her, but, as it quickly transpired in a broom closet three weeks later, not in That Way).
And Remus had said nothing of anybody — he confessed no crushes, disclosed no inclination towards any specific person or even a particular gender (Sirius had been keenly listening out for cues to Remus’ ambiguous sexuality for some months by that point).
So Sirius had pushed the matter.
“But you must fancy someone , Moony!” He had insisted, fixing Remus with one of those tell-me-your-secrets-or-I’ll-force-them-out-of-you-in-some-unpleasant-manner stares which he had long since perfected on Peter. “ Tell me .”
“It hardly matters if I like somebody, does it?” Remus had snapped, his cool slipping in an uncharacteristic moment of ill-temper. “Because I’m not ever going to be able to date anybody, am I?”
Sirius had blinked slowly and frowned. “Don’t be daft. Of course you will.”
“You’re a top bloke.” James had added helpfully. “Very dateable.”
Remus had only huffed, and fixed the pair of them with a soft glare. “It’s not that easy for someone like me. Surely you understand that.”
“But — ” Sirius had found himself floundering, suddenly desperate to convince Remus that he could have all manner of love and happiness ( with me , he added to himself, though he could not quite face up to it then, you could date me, if you wanted, Moony ); banishing the voice, he turned back to the task at hand. “But there’s plenty of people who wouldn’t mind your furry little problem, Moons! We don’t.”
Remus’ expression was almost pitying. “Friendship is one thing.”
“You think I wouldn’t date a werewolf?” Sirius demanded, deeply affronted by the insinuation that he would have even a lingering doubt about taking up with a XXXXX-rated dark creature. “Cause I totally would.” I’d date you. I’d date you so hard, Moons.
“I could never do that to somebody I cared about.” Remus’ reply was hard, his fists were clenched a little now and he looked at Sirius imploringly; as if begging him to see reason. “I could never drag somebody else down like that; make them suffer through being talked about, being tainted by me — ”
“ Tainted ?” Sirius huffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Uh, guys — ” James attempted to pull them out of their spiral, because it was clear they were about to descend into bickering. “Could we just not?”
They were like that, he and Remus, always pulling each other into infuriating tiffs that left cheeks red and hearts pounding a little too hard and voices raised just a half-decibel too much to be considered friendly squabbling .
Sirius found it equal parts exhilarating and infuriating, and had exactly no interest in averting a single one of their fights.
Least of all this one, because this time Remus was being objectively stupid .
“I’m not being ridiculous.” Remus said, not disappointing Sirius in the slightest. His Moony never backed down.
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not!”
Sirius huffed. “You’re being a child.”
Remus crossed his arms, and shot back petulantly; “You started it.”
He seemed to have some sense of how ridiculous this sounded, because an unwilling grin had immediately cracked over his face, his eyes sparkling as he saw an answering grin on Sirius’. The tension between them was broken.
“C’mere, you great prat.” And Sirius had leapt from his four-poster to Remus’ in one bound, and wrangled the other boy in a headlock.
Remus had tried, though not very hard, to shove Sirius off, but he had kept a tight grip, ruffling his friend’s honey curls. And if that served as an excuse to feel the softness of said curls, then who was to know but Sirius?
“You’re just going to have to accept that people love you, Moons.” Sirius said simply, maintaining his grip against Remus’ renewed efforts to free himself. “Furry problem and all.”
Remus huffed, his cheeks a little red from the struggle. “Never.”
Part of it was that Remus was naturally contrary; hands-down the most stubborn of all of the Marauders by a country mile. You might’ve assumed that Sirius would take that title; after all, Remus’ public-facing persona was so mild-mannered, his reputation near-sterling among all the teachers, and Sirius was, well, Sirius .
But Remus’ resolve had always been rock-solid, his ability politely defy school mandates and unreasonable demands without people entirely realising that that was what he was doing was unparalleled. And among his friends he saw no need for this politeness; he would say no just for the sake of it, and had a certain maddening tendency to dig his heels in over the stupidest things.
Sirius knew that was part of his refusal to accept what Sirius had said. But it was not the whole of the matter.
Remus really did plan to live his life alone — he did not intend to seek out a relationship with anybody, let alone Sirius specifically. He genuinely didn’t believe he deserved that kind of love.
That night, Sirius’ dreams of being with Remus had been simultaneously realised and crushed.
The violence of his response to Remus’ self-imposed celibacy gave him some notion that his feelings for the other boy were not going to go away, as he had latently hoped they would. There was some relief in acknowledging, even internally, how much he cared for Remus. But the other boy’s position on matters of romance promptly killed all hope.
There would be no happy conclusion, no Remus-and-Sirius . Just pining, and heartache, and futility.
It was this memory that replayed over and over in his mind as he ruffled half-heartedly through Peter’s possessions for hidden cookies, dampening his Christmas cheer.
Remus’ long-standing refusal to open himself up romantically continued to weigh heavily upon him as he trampled back downstairs, dejected.
“Merlin, if I knew you were going to be so stroppy about the cookies I would’ve just saved you one.” Remus remarked, wholly unaware that he was the sole and defining cause of Sirius’ misery.
Sirius only grunted, because he knew very well there wasn’t anything else he could do.
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“Something’s wrong with Padfoot.” Remus said, frowning.
James gave him a sidelong glance that Remus took to mean nothing good. “Like, more wrong than usual?” He inquired lightly — innocent tone confirming to Remus that James knew exactly what was bothering their friend.
“Yes.” Remus fixed James with a glare. “And you know what it is, and you’re going to tell me.”
James looked horribly uneasy, he ruffled his untidy hair — a nervous habit he had developed off the back of his very intentional post-Quidditch preening — and looked at Remus imploringly, as though begging him not to force the matter.
But this was about Sirius , and more importantly, Sirius’ happiness, so there was no way that Remus was just going to drop things over a sad look from James.
Remus could still remember the exact moment when he first realised that Sirius Black was the most important person in his life.
- It had been in the Great Hall, it had been breakfast, and it had been cloudy.
Sirius had been buttering toast and lamenting that there was no honey nearby. Honey-on-toast had always been Sirius’ favourite breakfast. That, followed by too-sweet tea, and egg soldiers.
He had looked at Remus, pouting, eyes travelling pointedly from Remus’ hand to the jar of honey just within his grasp.
“ Moony .” He had said, voice as sickly-sweet as his objective. “May I please have some honey?”
This request was complemented with an over-the-top eyelash flutter, which Remus did find ridiculous, but also irrefutably endearing. It was hardly like passing his mate a jar of honey constituted a huge favour, but Sirius had acted like Remus held the key to his own personal nirvana.
He remembered dumbly acquiescing, blushing at Sirius’ beaming smile of thanks, and staring at his friend thinking you are the best thing I’ve ever seen .
And that had been it. He might have only been fourteen, and struggling with his sexuality, and a werewolf , but he had known it then — he’d never want anybody the way he wanted Sirius Black.
Because even though Sirius was ridiculous, and vain, and even capricious at times, he was also soft, and vulnerable, and warm .
Merlin, Sirius was so warm. And so sweet in the most unexpected of ways. Massaging soothing circles into Remus’ scalp just before the full, when he felt prickly all over and irritable. Bringing Remus breakfast in bed after the full — always dry toast with a scraping of marmalade, because that was all Remus could stomach. Hexing anybody stupid enough to make jokes about Remus’ shabby clothes on Hogsmeade weekends (that didn’t happen much anymore, after a few years all the bullies had learnt their lesson — don’t fuck with Marauders). Even though Sirius did these things often, i t always managed to catch Remus off-guard; knocking the air out of him and making his chest hurt.
Because no matter how kind his actions, no matter how often Sirius’ eyes seemed to linger on Remus, none of it meant what Remus really wanted it to.
The gentle touches, the soft, slow smiles, and, more recently, the staring … it was just typical Padfoot stuff. He was a dog, after all; affectionate, loyal, touchy . Remus would do well not to read into it.
It killed Remus. It killed him in his soul-parts, and sometimes he thought it would be better if he could cut himself off from Sirius entirely, just to spare himself the pain.
But he would never walk away from his Padfoot.
No matter what, he would always be Sirius’ friend.
And a true friend would stop at nothing to find answers, where said friend’s happiness was concerned.
“James.” Remus pressed, mind moving back to the present. “ Now .”
James winced — actually winced — and Remus wondered what could be so bad that it merited being kept secret from the Marauders-at-large. Remus knew, of course, that there were James-and-Sirius secrets, but he had thought that they were few and far between.
“Look, Moony — ” James said falteringly, “Padfoot is just… he’s in love, alright?”
Remus’ heart dropped like cold stone, right down to the very pit of his stomach. “Oh. Right.”
“It’s — well…” James huffed. “Complicated.”
“How could it be?” Remus couldn’t help but ask. “He’s, y’know, Padfoot . Surely he can just flip his hair and stare broodingly into the distance and get whatever girl he’s after.”
James stared at him steadily, and Remus felt the urge to fidget under his pinning gaze. “Well, Moony, it’s actually a bloke, for starters.”
And that, that was the sentence that really rocked Remus’ world. It’s actually a bloke .
Sirius fancied a man. A man, who, in all probability, had male parts.
I have male parts. His brain supplied unhelpfully. Cheeks reddened, Remus pushed the thought aside. This was not the time.
“And what, the bloke isn’t queer?” Remus tried to dedicate his mental energy back onto figure-out-how-to-cheer-Sirius-up, rather than fantasise-about-dating-Sirius. “Is that why Padfoot’s all bent out of shape?”
James gave Remus a hard look.
“It is unclear.” He finally said.
“It is unclear.” Remus repeated. “Prongs, you’re being obtuse.”
James laughed as though Remus had just told the funniest joke in the world. “ I’m being — ” he cut himself off. “Look, you’re both bloody idiots as far as I’m concerned, and I should leave you to your misery. But seeing as it’s Christmas, I’ll spread some festive cheer, eh?”
Remus nodded dumbly, unsure as to how to respond. Clearly he was missing something obvious about the bloke Sirius liked, but he honestly couldn’t think of anybody that the other boy had shown a particularly strong preference for.
“Right.” James said, all at once businesslike. “We’ve got about fifteen students here over the Christmas break, right? Thirty if we sneak in the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. I say we throw ourselves a proper little Christmas party, get Padfoot’s mind off his troubles.”
Remus nodded; it was a good plan, Sirius always loved the opportunity to be in amongst the noise and energy and people that came with a party. Remus loved seeing Sirius like that. Loved being pulled into the centre of things alongside him; loved the laughing and the mischief and the easy touches.
“Sounds great.”
“I’ve even got a special game for him to play, to take his mind off things.” James said with a slow smile that couldn’t mean anything good. “I call it; The Super Extreme Portrait-Hole Firewhiskey Challenge.”
“Sounds promising.” Remus chuckled. “Very-- er, extreme?”
“Indeed it is.” James said briskly. “Now, run along and fetch Wormtail. We’ve got a party to plan.”
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24th of December, 1976
Christmas Eve
It was, as far as spontaneous Christmas Eve parties go, working up to be a roaring success. But that wasn’t what Sirius was focused on.
James was planning something.
It was evident but the sing-song nothing which Sirius had received as a reply when he asked what his friend was doing earlier that evening, as well as by the way that he had avoided Sirius for the last three hours , which, in a room of this size, was an impressive feat indeed.
Speaking of the Gryffindor common-room, it had never looked better. If it hadn’t already been one of Sirius’ favourite places, the gratuitous addition of garlands and gold tinsel and obnoxiously singing gnomes would have done it.
“I just don’t understand where James got the gnomes from.” Sirius said to Remus as one passed by, singing a slowed-down ‘Carol of the Bells’ in a gloomy baritone. “Even for him, it’s impressive.”
Remus hummed absently in response; he had been sneaking glances at Sirius all night — speculative ones, like he was trying to puzzle something out. Privately, Sirius feared that maybe Remus knew , that maybe he was disgusted or angry with Sirius.
He didn’t quite know what to say to diffuse the tension growing between them — don’t worry Remus, I do have homosexual feelings for you, but I’m perfectly happy to repress them to make you feel more comfortable so that we can continue our totally platonic friendship, just didn’t seem like it would have the desired effect.
It was then that a flash of untidy black hair obstructed his vision, James passing in front of him with a higher-than-average amount of swagger, and that was saying something, because though he had improved slightly in the intervening year since Evans had screamed at him in the school grounds, James was still extremely arrogant.
“Boys,” he said with bravado, brandishing a bottle of Firewhiskey in hand. “I bring glad tidings, and booze.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “ This is your scheme? This is why you’ve been avoiding me all night?”
“Nope.” James replied tritely, popping the ‘p’. “Recreational drinking isn’t a scheme , Padfoot, it’s par for course. You know that.”
Sirius nodded warily — having lived through many a dusty morning after, he did indeed know that. “So, what is it then?”
“This is the Super Extreme Portrait-Hole Firewhiskey Challenge.” James said, as though it were obvious.
Sirius blinked. “The what?”
“New game, I invented it, it’s brilliant.” James said. “And, lucky day for you, Pads, because you’ve been selected for the very first pilot test.”
“Oh, goodie.” Sirius shook his head. “Just as well I love a challenge.”
“Wanna know the rules?”
Sirius sighed. “Go on then.”
“Part one of the rules; this is your Firewhiskey.” James said meaningfully, glancing between the two of them. “Just yours and Moony’s; no sharing with anybody else. I want you to go for a walk — take the cloak, the map, whatever, I don’t care — and just, I don’t know. Have a good time. An adventure.”
“An adventure?” Remus raised a speculative eyebrow.
“What? You don’t want to have a Christmas adventure with Padfoot?” James threw back challengingly.
“Yeah!” Sirius rounded on Remus too, as if he hadn’t been the one who had initially raised doubts over the whole thing. “What gives, Moony? Don’t you like me anymore?”
Remus let out an exasperated huffed, but there was a softness in his gaze. “I like you fine, Pads. As you well know.”
James crowded them towards the portrait-hole, pressing the cloak and the map into their hands discreetly as they did. Sirius nursed the bottle of Firewhiskey gingerly in his arms, as you might a newborn, and climbed through the portrait-hole, ears trained on the sounds of Remus shuffling through behind him.
“I want a full report in the morning.” James called out to them, and then, revising, said; “Well, actually, that depends on what sort of adventure you have. In any case, don’t bother coming back until the Firewhiskey’s gone. That’s sort of part two of the rules — The Fat Lady won’t let you in without seeing an empty bottle. And no cheating — you have to drink the Firewhiskey, not water the plants with it. Don’t think I won’t know the difference! ”
Then James slammed the portrait hole shut, locking him and Remus out of the common-room for the foreseeable future.
Sirius scoffed, and looked up at the Fat Lady; Sirius had no idea what James possibly could’ve promised her in exchange for her cooperation in this dumb scheme, but it must’ve been good, because she merely shrugged, aloof, and pretended not to see them.
“He’s impossible.”
Remus chuckled. “Irascible scamp.” He agreed lightly, before tugging on Sirius’ arm gently. “C’mon. Let’s go to the Astronomy Tower and get started on this bloody challenge. Else we’ll never get back in.”
A little thrill went through Sirius at that. The Astronomy Tower was the sort of place couples snuck off to, when they wanted time alone. The thought of him and Remus there…
It was enough to make Sirius clamp right up. Usually, he’d have no trouble talking Remus’ ear off about anything and everything, but tonight the words stuck in his throat.
They wandered towards the Astronomy Tower in stilted silence.
When they got there, Sirius chose to focus on the sweeping expanse of sky and the snow-blanketed grounds rather than his friend. He was aware of Remus hovering uncertainly somewhere behind him, but Sirius kept his eyes forward, gripping the balcony rails and shivering from the cold.
It was Remus who broke the silence, a surprise within itself.
“You like blokes.”
It wasn’t a question, but Sirius answered it anyway.
“Yeah.” He nodded, and then revised; “Well, one bloke.”
He turned around to see Remus smiling a sad smile, one that tugged at his heartstrings. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, and was hovering in the archway leading onto the balcony. They were a little further apart than they might usually be.
Maybe that was a good thing.
“Lucky bloke,” Remus said softly, and Sirius’ pulse jolted. “Do I know him?”
Sirius coughed. “Erm, yeah. You’ve met before.” Sirius hesitated, then asked; “You’re not bothered?”
Remus looked at Sirius in real shock. “Bothered? No, why do you think I’d be bothered?”
“I dunno, I just…” Sirius trailed off, shrugging.
Remus was silent for a long time. Then he lightly said; “I like blokes, too.”
“Oh.” That was the only sound Sirius’ brain could force his mouth to produce. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.
“Well,” Remus revised with the shadow of a smile. “One bloke.”
Sirius stared at Remus, and suddenly it felt like the distance between them wasn’t a good thing at all. Fingers itching with a need to do something , Sirius stepped closer.
Remus did too. He looked about as nervous as Sirius felt, but he kept coming closer all the same.
They met in the middle of the balcony floor, and Sirius’ heart felt like it was lodged in his throat for how close they were. Shakily, he drew breath, and threaded his fingers tentatively through Remus’. The other boy did not pull away.
It was now or never.
“Lucky bloke.” He whispered against Remus’ lips, watching the way his bright amber eyes widened, hearing the sharp breath that escaped him. He was so close to Remus that he could feel his body heat radiating off him — Remus ran hot, he always had — and he swore he could hear the other boy’s heart pounding.
But maybe that was just his own — Merlin, he was terrified.
In the end it was Remus who closed the distance between them. This shouldn’t have surprised Sirius; Remus had always been the bravest of them.
The kiss was soft and swift; Sirius felt as though he could’ve blinked and missed it. The phantom press of Remus’ lips against his burned, though, and his heart fluttered all the same.
Remus jumped back, a frightened expression stealing across his face. “Pads, I’m sorry—”
But Sirius couldn’t bear to hear Remus take it back. Not now. Not when everything he wanted was so close to actually happening. He closed the distance between them again, tangled his fingers in Remus’ hair, pulling him forward roughly and kissing him with everything he had.
“ Mmph! ” Remus’ sound of surprise vibrated against his lips, but Sirius kissed him through it. He kissed a hot, undulating trail from Remus’ perfect mouth, across his cheek and jaw, down to his neck.
Remus gasped as Sirius reached the hollow between his jaw and neck, just below his ear. “ Pads .”
“Good?” He murmured into Remus’ fevered skin. God, how was he so hot in the middle of bloody winter? “D’you like that, Moons?”
“Yeah.” Remus gasped; it sounded as though language was not wholly within his grasp right now. “Yeah. S’nice.”
“Quit squirming and I’ll keep at it, then.” Sirius teased playfully, nipping at the spot with his teeth and delighting in the full-body shudder that drew from Remus.
Remus moved his own hand to Sirius face and brought their lips together for another proper kiss. “Berk.” He said, his gaze heated and steady.
Then, Remus stepped back and had the audacity to check his watch , which Sirius took as something of a personal insult.
“Got somewhere else to be?” Sirius did not succeed in keeping the chagrin out of his voice. “Prettier boys to snog?”
Remus’ lips twisted in a wry grin, but he did not raise his eyes from the watchface. “First; there aren’t any boys prettier than you.”
“Very true. Don’t you forget it.” Sirius was only half-joking.
Remus chuckled. “Second; it just passed midnight. Merry Christmas, Pads.”
Sirius blinked. “Oh.” He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Moony.”
“Just to be clear, I’m the bloke, right?” Remus’ voice wavered uncertainly. “The one you fancy?”
“Only if I’m the bloke you fancy.” Sirius shot back, tracing his fingers along Remus’ nose and brows as if mapping them by feel.
Remus stared at him steadily, his voice almost grave when he replied; “As if it could ever be anybody else.”
“Well, there you go.” Sirius kissed Remus, holding his face in his hands. “I fancy you. You fancy me.”
“There’s a lot to figure out.” Remus fretted, his expression making clear to Sirius that he was reluctant to break the moment. “With what I am —”
“I’ll be hearing none of that.” Sirius’ hands came to grip Remus’ shoulders firmly. “You, Remus John Lupin, are the smartest, funniest, most infuriatingly attractive person I have ever known. I want this with you. I don’t care that you’re a werewolf and I don’t care what people will say when they find out. If I was interested in the opinions of prejudiced fuckheads I would have just stayed at Grimmauld Place with mummy dearest.”
“Prejudiced fuckheads.” Remus repeated, smiling a little. “Is that how you see the vast majority of decent, werewolf-fearing wizarding society?”
“Yep.” Sirius said gravely. “Prejudiced fuckheads, every last one of them.”
“You can’t act like going against practically all of wizarding society isn’t going to be hard— ”
“Doesn’t matter if it's hard.” Sirius said dismissively. “I choose you , Moony. And I know that means people are going to be awful to us sometimes. I suppose it just c omes with the territory of being a queer blood-traitor dating an equally queer werewolf.”
“Can’t say I’ve known an abundance of gay werewolf-pureblood couples,” Remus said with a slight smile in his voice.
“Oh, there’s heaps. They hold support groups and mixers and everything; queer-werewolf/queer-pureblood couples are a whole dating subculture nowadays.” Sirius said dryly, before softening. “We’re going to be okay, Remus .”
Remus’ expression was a strange mix of dubious and hopeful. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” Sirius punctuated the statement with a kiss. “Better than okay, Moons. We’re going to be brilliant.”
Remus couldn’t quite meet Sirius’ eye, but he smiled brilliantly as he stared at his shoes, cheeks glowing red. “Alright.”
There would be arguments, Sirius knew. Remus would go back and forth on this a thousand times, tearing himself up with guilt and trying to convince Sirius that things would be better if they were apart. But Sirius was ready for that, and he wasn’t going to let Remus cheat either one of them out of their hard-earned happiness. He was ready to fight for them.
But that was a matter for another time. Tonight, Remus had conceded to Sirius. Tonight, Sirius could finally just enjoy the thing he’d been denying himself all this time.
“Y’know, it’s kinda hard to kiss you when you’re staring at the ground like that.” Sirius quipped. “Am I not interesting enough to look at? Am I really being shown up by a flagstone right now?”
“Fuck off, you know you’re beautiful.” Beautiful . Sirius near squirmed in delight. Grinning, he licked Remus from chin to eyebrow.
Remus groaned and shoved him off. “You’re an animal.” He wiped the slobber from his face with his shirtsleeve.
Sirius’ grin did not budge. He swooped back in on Remus and licked him again. “Mmmm. You’re so tasty, Moony.”
Remus huffed, but did not bother to wipe the lick-stripe from his cheek this time. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“You’re a dog.”
“Accurate, but still hurtful.”
Remus laughed, and shoved Sirius in the shoulder, glancing shyly at him from behind his curls. “You’re a prat.” He said softly, looking at Sirius like he was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“Hmm.” Sirius hummed in agreement, stepping back into Remus’ personal space. “But you like this prat, don’t you? Fancy the pants off him, or so I hear.”
Remus’ arm circled Sirius’ waist, the other lifting to caress his cheek. “I do. Merlin help me.”
He was staring at Sirius’ lips again, and Sirius wondered if they’d ever get sick of snogging.
On their way back to Gryffindor tower they paused for a long while, Remus pressing Sirius against the cold stone wall of the fifth-floor corridor, trading slow, indulgent kisses until they were dizzy.
When at last they broke apart, Sirius laughed in sudden realisation, brandishing the full bottle of Firewhiskey in hand; “We’ve not had a drop of this.”
“Fuck the Firewhiskey.” Remus breathed, and it was about the most erotic thing Sirius had ever heard a person say in his life. “I have you.”
Sirius grinned what must have been his most blindingly brilliant grin, judging by the slightly punch-drunk expression on Remus’ face. He pulled Remus back towards him, and they kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
“Merry Christmas, Moony.” Sirius breathed against Remus’ lips.
“Merry Christmas, Pads,” came Remus’ husky reply, and not a second later he had claimed Sirius’ lips again. “This is a really great present.”
“Yeah.” Sirius sighed, heart so full it was fit to burst. “The best.”
And if Sirius showed up at the portrait hole the next morning holding Remus’ hand, a full bottle of Firewhiskey swinging in his grip like some sort of championship trophy, then who was going to dare say a word about it?
Not James, at the very least. He only smiled, clapped Sirius on the shoulder, and... slammed the portrait-hole door in his face.
“ Prongs !” Sirius groaned.
“I explicitly stated I needed to see an empty bottle, Padfoot!” James trilled, voice muffled from the other side of the portrait-hole. “Seeing as you have no respect for the rules, you’ll have to bear the consequences!”
Sirius growled, and was about to try and hex the door open — the Fat Lady’s eyes were wide with alarm and she squawked a futile ‘Don’t you dare!’ at him — when Remus’ reassuring hand found his shoulder, and his warm breath tickled against his cheek.
“Forget Prongs,” he murmured, “I vote we spend Christmas Day in the Room of Requirement, eating mince pies and drinking Firewhiskey and snogging.”
Sirius barked a short, delighted laugh, and gave Remus the softest and fondest of looks. “Moons, you’re a genius.”