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1.
When Remus was eleven years old, his parents received the visit of an old man with a long, silver beard and half-moon spectacles. The man talked to his Mam and Dad inside the kitchen for a long, long time before they finally called for Remus.
The man introduced himself as Professor Dumbledore. Remus, of course, knew exactly who he was because, even though his father avoided mentioning Hogwarts, Remus was a curious boy. He had read every book about the school he could get his hands on, wondering what it would be like to walk down those halls, explore the castle's mysteries, learn about magic from knowledgeable professors... Never in his life, though, Remus would've expected to be offered the opportunity of doing more than just wonder.
Except now Professor Dumbledore himself is in his parent's kitchen asking how he would feel about going to Hogwarts. To Remus' "I would like that very much, sir, if it only were possible", Dumbledore simply offers a kind smile and begins a detailed explanation about how they not only could but actually would make it possible. Remus has never been so happy.
The following month, his parents start on the preparations so he can go. His Dad takes him to the Diagon Alley, where they buy books, an owl and, among other things, Remus' own wand. They have to buy second-hand uniforms, and Remus would be taking his father's old trunk, but those are not things he minds at all.
The only problem now, it would seem, lies in his socks. Or at least that is the part his mother is weirdly fixated on.
"I cannot believe you don't have a single matching pair!" She is rummaging around his drawers, digging every corner in the hopes of finding two socks that match. "How did I miss that? Why didn't you tell me?"
She isn't angry, Remus knows; just worried. His Mam and Dad are trying their best to make everything as perfect as possible to Remus, both because they want to make sure that he doesn't stand out - given as Remus can't really afford having attention drawn to himself - and because they don't want Remus to feel less than the others. In all honesty, Remus already feels like that, and owning a pair of identical socks wouldn't do much to change it, but he definitely isn't going to let his parents know that.
In the end, Hope can't find any socks that match. They don't have the time nor the money to buy new ones - socks aren't expensive, but they had, quite literally, spend every last knut and penny buying Remus' school supplies on such short notice. So he has no other choice than to go to Hogwarts on a full supply of mismatched socks. Not that Remus really cares.
2.
"Your socks don't match." Sirius says one afternoon. The boy is lying upside down on his bed and he gives Remus quite a fright. He hadn't expected anyone would be in the dorms at this hour, being still far too early in the day. He was planning on a quick nap before meeting with madam Pomfrey, hoping that it would help him with his restlessness, or at least make time go faster so the stupid moon could be here already. He wasn't counting on Sirius Black.
Remus looks down to his feet, newly freed from the confines of his shoes. His left sock is of a dull purple, a bit faded from so many washes. His right one is a bright, offensive yellow and there is a hole on his big toe. It is a hideous combination. Remus wiggles his toes and shrugs.
"They never do. What are you doing here at this time?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
Sirius is... Difficult, to say the least. He is very closed off - which is quite something coming from Remus - and so prickly you can never really see when you are about to put your foot on your mouth until the boy is already scowling and walking away. Remus gets the impression that Sirius wasn't really happy when he was sorted into Gryffindor, but he never asks anything about it because:
1) He is afraid Sirius would jinx him.
2) The only person who seems to be able to establish some sort of communication with the boy is James, and Remus isn't James.
3) (And the most difficult reason of them all) Remus can't get too close to any of his classmates, least he wants them to start suspecting things - things like the fact that he turns into a voracious, cruel beast from time to time.
Despite all that, and despite the fact that Sirius is posh and a bit of a show-off sometimes, Remus can't help but feel some empathy towards the boy. There is something undeniably captivating about him and, truth be told, there is no one that can make Remus laugh the way Sirius-in-a-good-mood can. So, giving up on his kip for now, Remus moves towards Sirius' bed and plunges himself beside him.
"Mam freaked out a bit when she realized I didn't have a single pair of socks that matched, but by then it was already too late for a trip to the store to buy new ones. I don't mind."
Sirius rearranges himself so that he is properly sitting, a teasing smile on his face.
"What did she expect? That you'd go around the school showing off your feet and asking people their opinions on your socks?"
Remus frowns, his expression a perfect display of confusion.
"Oh. Is that not the way around here? I should probably apologise to McGonagall next time I see her, then."
Sirius laughs, that unrestrained laugh of his that seems to surprise even himself. It's the first time Remus sees him laughing like that when James is not around. He likes that it was because of him.
"Can you imagine?" He says, and then rearranges his features to something Remus imagines should resemble their Professor's stern face. "Mister Lupin. May I ask you what in Godric's name do you think you are doing? Remove those stinky feet from my face at once!"
"Oy, my feet aren't stinky!" He protests, though he is laughing too much for it to have any real effect. "And anyway, I don't think Professor McGonagall would use that word. I'll give you an 'acceptable' for your effort."
Sirius gives him a light punch in the arm.
"I'm at the very least an 'Exceeds Expectations', Lupin. You're right, though, she wouldn't use a word that is so..."
"Graceless." Remus tries at the same time Sirius settles on "Boring".
Sirius smile widens.
"What would she say instead, do you think?"
Remus ponders for a minute before settling in "Offensive."
Sirius considers it but ultimately decides to go for "Repulsive".
"My feet aren't repulsive either!" Remus complains, not truly offended in the slightest.
"Your choice of socks are."
It's the first time they talk so openly with each other. It may be about nothing at all, a silly subject with even sillier jokes, but to Remus, it's the longest he's ever bantered with someone of his age. He doesn't worry about the impending moon - even though it is his first one at Hogwarts, his first one away from home -, nor does he focus on the typical restlessness that lets him know just how close to the surface the monster is. He only laughs and worries about coming up with stupid jokes that he hopes can make Sirius laugh as well. Before he realizes it, the sun is already beginning to set and he only has time to scramble a quick excuse for leaving so that he can meet with Madam Pomfrey.
3.
"I don't want you to buy me anything." Remus says in his most "Prefecty" voice. He may have turned in his badge after the whole mess with Snape, but his Prefect persona is part of him now, and it does come in handy with his friends sometimes.
Today is March 9, which means tomorrow will be his birthday, which means that his friends are bound to make a fuss of it.
Truth be told, Remus loves every single one of the shenanigans his friends come up with to celebrate his birthday. The part he is not so fond of is the part where they spend Merlin knows how many galleons buying him things they shouldn't have spent money on.
"It's your seventeenth birthday, Moony." Peter puts out.
"Our Moony is finally becoming a man!" James pretends to wipe a tear of his left eye, his other hand clutched over his heart.
"Have I been a butterfly all of my life?"
"Which means" Sirius cuts in even louder so he can muffle Remus' dry remark. "You get to receive your big boy gift."
"Surely you don't expect us to ignore that." James agrees.
"Yeah, Moony, surely you don't expect us to just ignore how big of a boy you are." And to make sure that Remus gets his lewd intent, Sirius winks. Remus can't help but smirk.
This thing with Sirius is new and exciting and everything Remus has ever dreamt of having, but never thought he would actually get. Still, as wonderful as it makes him feel, neither James nor Peter know of it yet, so Remus can't let Sirius' joke hang for too long, least their friends start thinking too much about it.
"No. Gifts." He says with all the finality that a sixteen years old boy who goes by the name of "Moony" can muster. Well, considering the friends he has, by comparison, it's still a respectable amount.
Sirius huffs, James rolls his eyes and Peter gives out a tired sigh.
"We bought you socks, you pillock, so stop fretting." Sirius says as he drops down on his bed.
"At least do us the courtesy of acting all happy and surprised when you get them, alright?" James adds as starts getting ready for the night.
Remus smiles. His friends get him socks every year for his birthdays and Christmas. It had been Sirius who started on the traditional joke after their talk back in First Year, though the first gift hadn't been on either of these dates. It had actually been a very uneventful day of their Second Year, apart from the fact that it was post-moon morning and Remus was still recovering in the infirmary. His friends had cornered him the week before so they could talk about their discovery of Remus' lycanthropy. Since then, he hadn't been able to stop himself from agonising about it, always afraid that the three of them would eventually come to their senses and finally ditch him. That day, in particular, being the first full moon since James, Sirius and Peter had approached him, Remus had been especially worried. When he opened his eyes, however, still lying on the infirmary bed all patched up with bandages, instead of finding himself alone, the first thing Remus saw was a very concerned Sirius pushing a badly wrapped gift towards him, James and Peter by his side eyeing him anxiously. When Remus opened it, there were two socks inside, one bright yellow and the other one purple. They were brand-new, so they weren't faded as his old ones nor did they bore any holes, and they also looked terribly soft and comforting. It had eased Remus' worries like no other words could, and even the pain from the night before had become nothing but a small thought at the back of his mind.
Since then, his friends started a twice-a-year tradition of gifting him socks, moving it over to actual celebratory dates at Remus request - a boy can only have so many socks, and being given a pair monthly after every full moon was positively in the realm of way too many. It was always a mismatched pair, often adorned with the most ridiculous patterns one could come up with - pink polka dots on the left pair with sunflowers on the right one, chicken legs that went with zebra stripes... At this point in his life, Remus has enough of them to start some sort of bizarre sock collection.
So naturally, on the eve of his seventeenth birthday, the sixth year since the tradition had started, Remus couldn't say he was still surprised when he was gifted socks from his friends. Still, for James' benefit, he promises "Don't worry, Prongs, I will".
Remus goes to bed with the fond memories of mismatched socks gracing his dreams.
It is now morning and Remus is rudely awakened by the sound of a thousand dying cats.
"You're not doing it right." He hears Peter screams over the absurd noise. He opens his eyes to the vision of James playing - are those bagpipes?
"I'm Welsh, you twat, not Scottish." Remus mumbles, voice thick with sleep but already smiling.
"We couldn't find a crwth." James pauses so he can answer.
"You're butchering the pronunciation. And where did you find bagpipes anyway?" Remus laughs as he props himself up on the headboard. He takes in the scene before him: the dormitory is in its usual mess, but there is a banner of "Happy Birthday Moony!" on top of the bathroom door. There are also a few balloons scattered through the room - red and gold, of course. He can see James and Peter by his bed, but he doesn't see Sirius yet.
And that's when a massive weight in the shape of a full-grown teenage boy decides to drop himself on top of Remus.
"Don't worry about that," Sirius answers. "We'll return it in time. Now, presents!" and then he is pushing a rectangular shaped package towards Remus. It is a considerably sized one, big enough that Remus knows right away that this isn't a mere pair of socks.
He looks up at his friends.
"Open it, Moony!" Peter encourages. They are all grinning like idiots, and Remus is already preparing himself for the mouthful he is going to give them over unnecessary spends, only that, in order to do that, he has to at least know what he is being given. He follows Peter instructions and rips away the wrapping.
It's a suitcase. It's on the smaller side, but no less charming because of that. Its simple looks constitute of a dark brown leather coverage, giving it all the air of seriousness one would expect from a case, something that was complemented by the embroidered white letters near its clasp. Professor R. J. Lupin, it says.
"For our dear Professor Moony." Sirius says softly, oh so tenderly.
"We know you're going to achieve great things." James follows.
"We all have faith in you." Peter delivers the final blow.
And Remus... He is dumbstruck. He can only mutter a helpless "These are not socks", to which Sirius grins widely.
"Open it up."
So Remus does. Inside there are two socks: one is of a pale yellow, the colour of old parchment; it is engraved with the silhouettes of footsteps and lines that resemble a map. The other one is black and there are four figures running around all over the fabric: a dog, a stag, a rat and, ahead of them all, a wolf.
Remus feels his eyes welling up against his will and he is in immediate danger of embarrassing himself by crying over the most amazing gift he's ever been given - well, second most amazing gift, the first place being forever occupied by the fact that his friends became animagi for him. He looks up, finds Sirius gaze, and it is a testament for how well Sirius can truly read him, for he doesn't have to utter a word before a massive black dog is on top of him, licking his face and creating the perfect distraction so that no one else notices the happy tears that are running down his cheeks.
4.
"You should finish getting ready." His Dad says awkwardly standing by the threshold. He doesn't know what to do. Remus doesn't blame him, because he too doesn't know.
When he had found out about James and Lily's... James and Lily. He had been far away in the north. Still with the pack. Still trying. His world had been falling off of its axis and there Remus was, far up the north, still fucking trying.
For what?, one may ask.
He doesn't know that either.
It had all been useless.
Still, because Remus was an idiot, because Remus had learnt to hope, because good things had unexpectedly happened to him before and he had been naive enough, or spoiled enough, that he thought for just one second that good things could happen to him again... He had come back. Sirius, he had thought. Their deat- what had happened to James and Lily had barely started to sink on Remus and he was already thinking of Sirius.
He forces himself to think of Sirius name as often as he can because he doesn't want to forget. His pain has a name, his ending has a name; it is named after the brightest star in the night sky. He can't forget.
He still can't say his name out loud though.
What an idiot.
His father sighs and comes closer.
He can't forget, can't let himself forget because it's easy to get lost on his own feelings and memories. Memories of wide smiles and barking laughs, soft kisses and passionate embraces; memories of whispered "I love you"s and sweet, sweet touches. Of coming undone and being held back together by one person and one person alone.
What Remus can't forget are memories of shouting accusations and deep, deep distrust; what he can't forget are the suspicious looks and the incessant inquires; a kiss that was too rough, a fuck that was too hard, hands that held him desperately close, as if he was a saving anchor, but at the same time, desperately too tight, as if trying to smother him.
He can't forget the shouted "Fuck off from our lives".
"Remus, are you listening to me?" His father tries again.
The thing is, it's not like Remus hadn't had any warning. Since things started truly spiralling, since the deaths started hitting too close to home, since James and Lily and Harry had gone into hiding, since Regulus had revelled himself to be a Death Eater... Sirius hadn't been the same. Or perhaps he had never been the person Remus thought he was in the first place. Perhaps it had all been a lie, right from the beginning.
Remus can't tell which one is worse: the thought that, somewhere along the line, they had lost Sirius to the other side, or the idea that they had never known him in the first place.
James and Lily.
Peter.
A street full of muggles.
Harry, even though Harry is not dead, because he still intended for him to be.
He thinks of the names constantly, makes a list in his head. At first, it had been only before he went to bed, but now he thinks of it more and more often, a constant nag in his head, and Remus wouldn't be surprised to find out that he does it by the hour. He doesn't know whose else name he should add to it, doesn't even know how many more there could be. How many people had Sirius killed in total? How many of their friend's deaths could be linked to him, how many of the whole Order's deaths could? How many unidentified muggles, how many half-bloods and muggle-borns? Could Remus add his own name to the list? He sure as hell doesn't feel alive anymore.
"Remus, son, look at me."
He does. His Dad is kneeling down in front of him, concern plain on his face. Remus knows he is only trying to help, but in all truthness, he isn't, not even a bit. Facing his father now is even harder than it was during this past year. Not only is he an unemployed, unsuccessful werewolf living off of his boyfriend's money, but now he is also the ex of a mass murderer whose friends are all dead. No prospects of a job, no prospects of a happy family with a kid to call Lyal "grandpa", no one left in his life who is willing to offer him some help when he needs it the most. A shell of a man. A waste of breath.
Remus can't face his father, so he looks down.
"I'll finish up here so we can go." He says to his feet. His father sighs, but Lyall doesn't say anything before getting up. Remus can hear him walk to the door of the bedroom until he pauses.
"I'll wait in the living room so we can apparate together."
Remus nods. They have the Potters funeral to attend in a few minutes. His father had appeared on their doorstep earlier today - well, not their anymore. Now that Sirius is in prison, Remus supposes the flat is solely his. Lyall had offered to help, asked for what Remus needed, anything, anything at all, son, you can just name it. Remus couldn't utter a word. His father had looked behind him, taking in the flat's state of disarray - flipped table, broken pieces of vinyl, ripped photographs - and, after uttering a shaky breath, had simply guided Remus towards the sofa and started to clean. He managed to put almost everything that was still left into boxes for whatever you want to do with them whenever you feel like thinking about that. And I think you should come to stay with me for a while. Not that I don't trust you to take care of yourself! It's just rather lonely there, you know, now that I don't have your mother anymore. I could use the company.
Remus knows his father is lying for his benefit, just as he knows he is not going to take up on the offer. He needs to leave as soon as he can, sell the flat, leave the country, leave his whole life behind. He needs to leave and forget. But before Remus can do any of that, he has a funeral to attend.
He gets up from his bed and goes towards the dresser. He only needs to find a sock so he can put on his shoes and be done with it. He looks around, an array of colourful options before him - he had asked his father not to pack up his socks; he doesn't need them, doesn't want the reminder... He chooses the grey ones. It's his only matching pair.
5.
It's already so late at Grimmauld Place. The night had gone by on a blink, it seemed. It had been one of the only few truly enjoyable nights they had had at the house, the Christmas celebrations outweighing the thoughts of another war. The house was packed and - to what Remus can only imagine being late Walburga Black's utter despair - full of joy and laughter. Some of those laughs had been heartwarmingly bark-like, a sound that never failed to give Remus complete elation.
Speaking of which, Remus has been looking for the exclusive owner of said laughter for the last ten minutes and can only conclude that Sirius has already retired to their room. He has the additional pleasure of being right once he enters the room to find the man half-naked already, only in trousers, sitting by the end of the bed.
"Running away from me?"
Sirius looks up, his eyes brighter than Remus has seen them in a long time. "Never."
He walks to the bed and gives Sirius a soft kiss on his head.
"Had a good evening?" he asks as he sits beside him. Sirius' lips curl up a bit.
"Better than I ever thought I could, given the circumstances."
There's still that lingering sadness on his demeanour, but Remus doesn't dwell on it. He knows how difficult it has been for Sirius, being once again a prisoner, and on this house of all places. Some days, Remus has the distinct impression that Sirius would rather be back in Azkaban than to stay here for another moment. He is not sure he wants to know for certain, though, so he never asks.
"I'm sorry."
"Let's not think about that tonight." Sirius gets up then and kneels down by the bed. He moves his hand beneath it until he comes up with a small box. He offers it to Remus. "I got you a gift."
"Sirius..."
"You can save the lecture, Moony, I didn't leave the house. And I didn't spend any money either. I, well, I made it myself, as you'll see once you open it. It's painfully obvious, really." One of his hands is still extended towards Remus, offering him the box; the other is scratching the back of his head in a somewhat bashful manner. It's been over twenty years of knowing him - 12 years of Azkaban included - and seeing Sirius like this is still completely foreign to Remus.
He accepts the gift and opens it.
Inside, there are two woollen socks. One is bright yellow and the other is Griffyndor red. Sirius is right - it is quite apparent that he made them himself. They are badly distorted and one of them is bigger than the other. They very clearly don't match. It's the first pair of mismatched socks Remus has owned since 1981.
"I remembered it a few weeks ago, how we used to give you mismatched socks every year for your birthday and Christmas." Sirius explains. After Azkaban, Sirius' memory hadn't been left intact. There were quite considerable chunks of recollections that eluded him, and even some of the memories that were there had been altered to be worse than things had actually been at the time. Thankfully, though, things were slowly returning to him. Sometimes Sirius would ask him something and Remus would either confirm, deny or make small corrections that would help him to grasp the real picture. He also would often remember something entirely random out of nowhere, so it made sense that this memory in particular had only come back to him a few weeks ago. "I thought it would be nice to do that again this year, but I couldn't just go out and buy you a present" he rolls his eyes. "I also couldn't ask you to buy it for me or it would ruin the surprise, so I knicked some wool and a knitting magazine from Molly, you know, from all these jumpers she makes as Christmas gifts. Anyway, I know it's ridiculous and I can't knit, even with the help of a magazine, so they look truly awful and I doubt that you're even going to wear them, but I just..." Sirius sits down on the bed again, and Remus can't take his eyes off him.
"I know it hasn't been easy... I haven't been easy. I just wanted to do something for you to show you that I care. Because I do care about you, Moony. More than you know."
Remus hugs him as tightly as he can. He buries his nose on Sirius' neck, taking in on his favourite scent in the whole world. It reminds him of fond memories growing up, of acceptance and love. It reminds him of hard times and learning the true meaning of missing someone. It reminds him of forgiveness and of hope for a better future. It reminds him of something to fight for.
"I love it." He says vehemently. He does; it's the best gift he's been given in fourteen years.
Sirius lets out a shaky breath. "It's only socks. Badly made ones."
Remus puts enough distance between them to look into Sirius' eyes, shakes his head slowly. "No." He says smiling.
Sirius is right: it hasn't been easy. Remus is under no illusion that it will be from now on. They have a lot of wounds to heal, a lot of problems to tackle head-on. They also have Harry to worry about, not only themselves. Still, with Sirius by his side, it's definitely easier. If someone had told Remus Lupin he'd grow old to be an optimistic person, he'd most certainly laugh at them. But now, after being given a second chance in life - a second chance to right his errors, to once again be a part of Harry's life, a second chance to forgive and to be forgiven, a second chance to share a life with the man he loves... Remus can only hope.
In the silence of the decrepit house on Christmas night, Remus and Sirius share a kiss and a promise of better days to come.