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You’d think that with all the weirdly specific and oddly titled wizarding books, someone would’ve written about what to do when your ex-lover and best friend who you thought betrayed your other mutual best friends has escaped from a wizarding prison that no one has ever escaped from before and has come to kill your other best friend who you thought had already been killed by your ex-lover but was actually the one who did all the betraying and has been hiding for 12 years disguised as the pet rat of your dead best friend’s son’s best friend.
Surprisingly, no one has written even an advice column on this probably-very-common situation, and despite being in this exact situation, Remus Lupin will also not be writing about any advice on this topic. Because he has no fucking clue.
What he had chosen to do in that moment was accept a quick and desperate hug from a very smelly and grimy Sirius, threaten and hold the rat hostage, turn into a werewolf and then wake up the next day to find the rat on the loose and Sirius missing.
Not his finest moment, one might say.
‘What the fuck?’ one might add.
But the past is the past and it's not like he knows anyone who owns a very convenient time turner.
What he was currently doing, was attempting to enjoy a calm trip on the Hogwarts Express, back to his sad little cottage in Yorkshire. Attempting being the key word here because how can you enter a state of calm when you’ve been uprooted and torn open.
How can you sit with your hands resting politely in your lap, and not anchored on your chin while your teeth rip apart your nail beds.
How can you serenely look out the window when in the back of your mind you’re reliving a 13 year old nightmare, and tracing over each and every falsehood the past 13 years had been shaped by.
Remus Lupin was bordering on a panic attack on the Hogwarts express that he was riding alone for the first time in his entire life.
(The first ride he had ever taken on the Hogwarts express he’d been accompanied by 3 other boys, and every time he’d taken it afterwards he’d been accompanied by at least one of those 3, if not all and if not joined by a few extras. When he had taken the train towards Hogwarts and his new teaching position, he had attempted to sleep through the painfully lonesome ride, only he had still woken up to 3 other people. They were just the wrong ones.)
The life of the last marauder had not been a kind one. Hopping from job to job, moving on just before they caught on about his regular absences. Every happy memory of his life since age 11 tainted and spoiled. He was his own personal dementor, blocking out every joyous memory he could in drastic attempts to make it stop hurting.
------
Within the first two weeks back home (the word home might be an exaggeration, actually) Remus received two visits from two different Aurors.
He’d expected it.
He was, after all, in the ministry's eyes, the first person Sirius would come to. God, how he wished that to be true.
The first to arrive was a severe looking older witch with an upturned nose who was almost equal in height to Remus’ 6’3 frame. She barely let him squeeze out a “Good morning, ma’am” before she’d stated her title (Auror Tuttle) and he found himself being interrogated in his bathrobe on his front step at 7:30 in the morning.
“No, I don’t know the current whereabouts of Sirius Black,”
“No, I am not in contact with Sirius black.”
“No, I did not help Sirius Black escape from Hogwarts as I was furry and occupied.” (This was not an exact quote, mind you.)
Much to her displeasure, he was no help at all, and much to his displeasure, he was actually being truthful.
He had absolutely no idea where Sirius had escaped to, and he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to attempt to make contact.
How are you supposed to fit “I’m sorry you were wrongfully imprisoned in the worst place known to man because everyone though you betrayed your brother and his wife and I’m sorry I didn’t push to uncover the truth and I’m sorry I believed you were a traitor so easily and I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you goodbye and by the way why didn’t you tell me you and Peter switched places?” in a jonty little letter signed Love, Moony xoxo.
You can’t.
The second Auror to turn up was a trainee named Tonks.
“Nymphadora Tonks but if you call me Nymphadora I will hex you.” She said cheerily.
“Are you allowed to threaten people like that?” Remus replied, bemused and tired.
“Ooh, definitely not. Could I bother you for a cuppa?”
“Ah, ‘s not a bother at all, c’mon in.”
As they were waiting on the kettle, she spoke again.
“I remember you.”
He looked up from the worn down patch on the wooden table he’d been staring at, “...Sorry?”
She turned her head just slightly towards him, not meeting his gaze. “I was maybe 5 I think? It was around Christmas time and Mum had invited Sirius and you all to come ‘round for supper.”
“Right, I remember that.”
It had been their first year out of Hogwarts. The war was in full swing. It was a live-in-the-moment way of life. Live in the moment because I’m not sure I’ll be there to see it for much longer.
Every family was tucking themselves safely together, scraping up as much holiday spirit as they could muster and celebrating with the underlying tone that this holiday may be their last. For some it was.
Sirius had loosely been in contact with Andromeda for most of his life, excluding some time between their individual disownings. Once they were officially both black Black sheep they’d grown closer. Solidarity and all that.
He’d spent a few evenings at his cousin's house over the Hogwarts holidays during his stay with the Potters. Visited for a few suppers or afternoon teas, and for their first holiday out of Hogwarts, the invitation had extended towards the rest of the Marauders and honorary Marauder (Lily).
It had been lovely, really. Andromeda and Ted were a laugh, the food was spectacular, and for an evening they all made their very best attempts to forget the war growing around them.
“He didn’t seem like a traitor, back then.”
Remus felt his exhaustion suffocate him tenfold and his voice creaked under the weight of it when we responded, “No, he didn’t.”
“You have nothing, do you?”
He’s got so little, and he’s lost more than he should’ve survived.
“I’ve nothing for you.”
She made for the door before the kettle had finished boiling.
------
July was torture, and torture wasn’t a word Remus took lightly.
He’d learned through a response to Harry’s birthday letter that Sirius was somewhere vaguely tropical, and he wasn’t sure if that vague notion was better than knowing nothing at all. Though Harry didn’t seem like the type to know much about birds, perhaps they were native and Sirius was actually quite close? If he was slightly more desperate (and pathetic) he might’ve asked Harry to describe the birds Sirius was using, and try to work out a more specific area, but at the risk of appearing as such to the teenager, he just responded back with a simple ‘thank you’, and did his best to lull his racing mind.
If Sirius was nearby, then there was likely a reason as to why he hadn’t attempted to make contact quite yet. Maybe he didn’t want to put Remus in danger. A werewolf housing a fugitive wasn’t a great look after all. Maybe he didn’t want to impose. Maybe he despised Remus for letting him be shipped off to Azkaban without a fight. Maybe he’d used all that time to think and he’d come to the conclusion that Remus wasn’t all that grand after all.
...Maybe he didn’t have any more paper. Yeah. That was probably it.
-----
The first full moon back in Yorkshire was horrid.
The night at the Shrieking Shack had been particularly bad for several reasons. The lack of wolfsbane, the lack of a human-free environment, the return of an old companion the wolf had almost forgotten about, the old companion then attacking him. (more like protecting him but wolves aren’t very good at perspective)
This time, still lacking wolfsbane, the wolf expects his companion. Companions. He anticipates his 3 friends, and just like all those years ago is filled with sorrow and confusion when he realizes they won't come.
He tears himself up horribly in a fit of- not rage. Not anger, not anymore. Frustration? Maybe.
Grief? Yeah. That's it.
The wolf grieves and plays out his emotions in a complete contrast to Remus Lupin's tendency to tuck things neatly away in an imagined box at his temple. .
A few extra scars are worth it, he deserves much worse.
------
Sirius was in Hogsmeade.
That thought was on a constant loop in the back of his mind.
Sirius is in Hogsmeade Sirius is in Hogsmeade Sirius is in Hogsmeade
Harry had sent him a small letter. (They’d stayed in touch through a few small letters, much to Remus' surprise and pleasure.) The second he’d read Snuffles visited us in Hogsmeade. He’d stopped reading to take a breath.
------
The problem with living in such an isolated fashion is the unfortunate tendency emotions have to ferment and fester.
Why didn’t they tell me they switched?
Why didn’t they tell Dumbledore they switched?
Why was I so ready to believe that Sirius had betrayed us?
Where the fuck has Peter gone?
Why would Sirius forgive me? I betrayed him, didn’t I?
Why did I believe he’d betrayed James so readily?
Any attempts at answering these questions just made it much worse.
Why didn’t they tell me they switched? They probably thought you were the mole. You’d been spending so much time away, they probably thought you’d joined up with good old Greyback.
Why didn’t they tell Dumbledore they switched? Maybe because they knew how much misplaced faith Dumbledore had in you, they thought he’d tattle. Maybe they already knew at that point that Dumbledore isn’t as trustworthy as we thought he was.
Why was I so ready to believe that Sirius had betrayed us? You were so distraught and wrecked and it blinded you. You were weak. You still are.
--------
JUNE 26
Genuine question, how would you begin a conversation in this situation? You and your ex lover/best friend are sitting across from each other in the most melancholy and depressing dining room either of you have ever seen. You’re avoiding eye contact and drinking shitty tea that you didn’t even let steep or cool cause you needed something to do with your hands.
At around 7pm that evening, Remus had turned from his reading to a scratch at the door. Quiet at first, then stronger, more confident. He’d opened the door to a large, mangy black dog, sitting politely on his rotting front porch, back-lighted by the setting sun. As soon as he’d closed the door behind them he found himself pulled into a tight embrace by now-human Sirius. He still didn’t smell great, and definitely had been wearing those clothes for awhile, but Remus couldn’t find it within himself to complain. He wrapped his arms, one around Sirius’ upper back and one around his waist, in mirror to the others’ own position. They’d just stood there for a minute or so, breathing each other in.
Eventually Remus pulled back and looked his companion over, taking in his appearance, and oh it hurt. He drew away fully and turned to the kitchen, mumbling “I’ll make tea.” and now here they were.
What would you say? How would you break the silence? Your tongues are burnt and your hearts are beating so fast.
“I still have your jacket.” is what Remus Lupin decided to go with.
Sirius briefly looked up, and god. How can someone look so drastically different, so moulded and carved into, and yet be someone you recognize so easily.
His eyes were the same clear grey. Obviously. Eyes don’t age all that much. But the mind-fuck of seeing his Sirius’ eyes set within this stranger of a man.
His hair, nowhere near the sleek, black beautiful waves that used to rest just above his shoulders now fall in a tangled mess down his back, reaching his waist.
He’d always had those high, regal cheekbones. Only now they made him look sick and gaunt, instead of sharply beautiful. Who was he kidding, he was still beautiful.
“Jacket?” His voice sounded better at least, that night at the shrieking shack it had been so torn up. From lack of use or from 12 years of abuse, Remus didn’t want to think about it.
“I’ve got a trunk with a few things of yours in it, in the attic.”
“I would’ve thought you’d gotten rid of all that.”
“No. I couldn't.”
“Oh.”
God this was painful. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?
“Um, not that I don’t want you here, but wh-”
“Voldemort’s back.”
Bloody fucking hell.
“He turned the triwizard cup into a portkey and brought Harry and Cedric Diggory, I think was his name, out to some graveyard. Killed Diggory, used Harry to resurrect himself.” Remus remembered Cedric Diggory. Fantastic student, truly one of the brightest of his class. Oh God. How old would he have been? 17? Fuck.
“Is Harry Okay?” Every fucking year the world fed this boy pain and hardships and failed to hold him afterwards.
“‘Bout as okay as you’d expect him to be.”
“Where is he now?”
“Still at Hogwarts, Dumbledore’s sending him back to the Dursley’s for the summer.” Sirius said bitterly.
“It's to keep him safe, yes? The blood protection?”
“Supposedly, though I don’t think the fucking treatment he gets from them. I could take better care of him, I’d keep him safe.”
“You’re on the run, lov- Sirius,” fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Sirius just took a sip of his tea.
“The Order is getting back together, Dumbledore had me alert what's left of ‘em.”
So he’s only here on business. Ah. Well. That only hurts a little bit.
“I’m supposed to stay here, with you for a bit,” Good fucking god, he can’t catch a break can he, Sirius noticed his stiff posture and tried to backtrack,“But I can find a different place. If you need me to.”
“No, of course not, you’re more than welcome here.”
“I- I wasn’t sure if- Thank you.”
Remus looked at Sirius again, and this time Sirius looked right back at him.
“I’ve got a spare bedroom you can use, only it's filled with some boxes and books. Though I’ll have to clean it out first.”
“I can just sleep as Padfoot tonight, on the couch or something.” He was methodically picking at the worn skin on his fingers, almost making them bleed. Remus didn’t think twice before reaching out to pull his hands and maybe he should’ve because now he’s gently holding Sirius’ hands in his own.
“Uh- No, no you, ah, I think you’ve spent quite enough time as Padfoot. You deserve a proper bed to sleep on.”
Neither Remus or Sirius pulled their hands away, if anything they just leaned the slightest bit closer together.
It felt natural, to move right back into their old selves. It felt like he could reach over and sink his hands into Sirius’ hair, or rest his hand on his shoulder. Remus had spent so much energy trying to undo and forget all that was Moony-and-Padfoot and yet it slipped back to him so easily. How desperate, how weak.
“Are you hungry? You must be, when was the last time you ate?” Remus pulled himself away, his hands being the first to move, “I’m not quite sure,” said Sirius, clearing his voice and straightening up, pulling his own hands into his lap under the table. “You don’t need to make me anything.”
“Nonsense, I’m a bit peckish myself.” He was pretty nauseous, actually, “A sandwich perhaps? Or would you rather something else?”
“Sandwich works”
Thank Merlin he’d recently re-stalked his panty.
He turned towards the hardly-used kitchen, grabbing the fresh loaf he’d grabbed from the local market the last time he’d been out (Thank Godric for preservation charms). He moved to wash his hands, pulling apart the curtains to let in the evening sunset, stopping in his tracks when he made eye contact with a pair of beedy yellow eyes.
He startled with a “what the fuck” and stepped back.
“I also tied up a hippogriff in your yard, his name’s Buckbeak.” Remus turned to Sirius, who had taken a great interest in a loose splinter of wood in the table.
“Why is there a hippogriff named Buckbeak tied up in my yard?” Remus asked incredulously.
“He’s Hagrids. Poor bugger was set to be executed- I’m not too sure why but he seems nice enough. I flew on him when I left Hogwarts.”
Remus gave two stiff nods, “Okay.”
“He’s not much trouble at all, great at catching rats.”
Buckbeak snorted and shook his feathers outside the window.
------
Predictably, Remus couldn’t sleep.
He’d read, he’d paced, and when all else failed he found himself in the attic, where they’d just transported all the miscellaneous boxes and odd bits from what was now Sirius’ room.
He was poking around, poking around boxes, poking around bags and furniture all differing in degrees of dustiness. There was one very specific trunk he was looking for. One labelled with a faded Emblem of an H surrounded by Red, Green, Blue and Yellow. One he hadn’t opened since he had shoved the contents into it and thrown it up here almost 14 years ago.
He found it under an ugly purple carpet, which had protected it from the majority of the dust.
As soon as he set each hand on one of the clasps his breath quickened and his heart burned.
He wasn’t even crying anymore, the tears were just falling out of his eyes and he barely minded them. He’d returned home the second he had found out, he didn’t even remember the journey here, wasn’t sure how he got back from Dumbledore's office, barely remembers that interaction aside from the main piece of information.
“Remus I’m so sorry.” No. “James and Lily-” No. “Afterwards he went after Peter-” No. “He’s in custody.” No.
“You’re wrong.” He had thrown at the Headmaster, “No you’re fucking wrong, they were brothers he wouldn’t, he would not. No, we trusted him. I trusted him. No you’re wrong. No. No. No. No. No.
Dumbledore only looked at him. You could usually find something in the old man’s gaze. Amusement after a particularly clever prank, pride for his highest achieving students. Humor behind his beginning of year speeches before they turned sour alongside the war. Remus was used to a pity tinted gaze and it tasted awful.
But those past gazes were nothing compared to now. God, he could feel it and it hurt. Everything hurt, oh god oh god.
The rest of the world was out celebrating, rejoicing the end of the war, and Remus Lupin was inside on his knees, breaking down.
He shoved photograph after photograph into his old Hogwarts trunk, right next to his school books. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the stupid happy people in the stupid happy photographs.
The last thing to be shoved in was His leather jacket. It had been left tossed across one of the dining room chairs. He’d grabbed at it on his way to the attic and had gagged at the smell.
And there it still was, laying on top of the contents of the trunk. Wrinkled and creased.
Remus gingerly gathered it in his hands and pulled it up to his nose and it still smelled like him. Leather (obviously), cigarettes, the rich and sweet black tea he used to drink religiously. It even smelt like himself. Remus Lupin of the past, all nutmeg and libraries and wood and cocoa.
He went to look deeper in but as soon as he caught a glimpse of 4 smiling boys he closed the lid and climbed back down the ladder, narrowly avoiding any splinters off of the near-rotted wood.
He flicked his wand carelessly at the ladder, folding it up back into the ceiling, and turned around to head back to his room, only to be started by Sirius standing right behind him.
“Fucking hell, Sirius.” He moved the hand that wasn’t gripping the jacket to grab at his thundering heart.
“Sorry, was already awake and heard something moving about, just- needed to check it out.” His voice rumbled pleasantly, “Didn’t forget I was here did you?” It might've been an attempt at a joking tone but the tension stuffing the air made it miss its mark by a long shot.
“Definitely not.”
Silence. One beat, two.
“Well I’m gonna-”
“Is that my jacket?”
They spoke at the same time.
“Uh, yeah, it is, um, here.” Sirius took it from his hands with the amount of care one would handle an ancient book with, like it would turn to ash and crumble from your hands.
One beat, two.
“I’m gonna head to bed I think, try to get some shuteye.”
“Yeah, right,” Sirius looked back up at him and tried for a smile. Most of the smiles they’d traded had been trying, to be honest.
“Goodnight Sirius”
“Goodnight Remus”
Neither of them managed to get more than an hour of sleep.
-------
They were once again, sat on opposing sides of the dining room table, wearily sipping on milky tea and coffee. Remus had given up on sleep at around 6:45 am and Sirius had followed him into the dining room after only 20 minutes. They were both on their 3rd cup.
“We should go into town, get you some proper clothes.” Remus said, looking at his too-big pyjamas hanging off of his counterpart’s frame.
“That would be nice, all I have are the ones I transfigured from my robes.”
“We could go now? If you’d like?” The nearest shop is a muggle one so we’ll only need a light disguise.” It had only been London and some neighbouring cities that had been warned of Sirius Black the Murderer, they’d be looking for no such man here, let alone 2 years later. “You can borrow a top of mine for the trip.”
-----
One of Remus’ favourite things about Yorkshire was its pleasantly neutral summers.
There was no humidity suffocating and clinging on to him, no damp clothes stuck in uncomfortable places, just gentle sunshine sinking into his back and fresh air swimming through his messy sandy hair. The sleeves of his dark terracotta sweater were pushed up to his elbows and his -
The most they’d done for Sirius’ disguise was to give him a nice clean shave and turn his hair into a light brown colour. He’d tucked a pale blue-grey t-shirt into a pair of worn grey jeans and had a flannel wrapped around his hips. His usually pale skin (or at least usual for himself of 12 years younger) was tanned to a gentle olive shade.
“Where did you go? Harry mentioned something about tropical birds?”
“Moved around quite a bit and was mostly Padfoot, but I think Morocco? Definitely Spain.”
You could’ve come here, you could’ve been safe here.
“Maybe we could go again sometimes, after all this I mean. We could see it properly.”
“‘We’?” shit
“You, I mean. Or- uhm, Well I’d- I’d come if you wanted me to? That is, I'd like to come. Or go. With you.” Mmm, oh to be put out of his sad, sad misery right here right now.
“I would. Like that.” Oh, nevermind.
They were silent for a minute or so. They neared the muggle village, the gravel road slowly turning to concrete and pavement, and the soft bustle of the shops ahead growing louder.
“D’you talk to Harry much?” Remus inquires.
“As much as I can. The poor kid’s been screwed over and out of so damn much, and his godfather wasn’t around for much godfather-ing, I’m trying to make up for lost time I suppose. He’s more like Lily than James, have you noticed that?”
“I have, it's shocking when he looks so identical to Prongs and then you hear Lily come straight out of his mouth. He’s a perfect combination of the two.”
Sirius nods his head, “I thought he’d be much different, as a baby he was so smiley, you know? Always giggling or making us laugh.”
“He’s still very funny.” Remus pointed out
“Funny as all hell, that boy has wit dry enough to challenge a desert.”
“I wished I could’ve watched him grow up. Did you ever see him?”
“I saw him once,” Remus began quietly, “Dumbledore forbade me from making any contact and I was terrified of anything happening to him, but around 6 years after I was doing some supply teaching jobs and I ended up at his school without even realizing. I wasn’t his teacher, I was filling in for a different one, a higher grade than his I believe, but he came to the classroom to get some extra scissors. I knew it was him immediately. That was it. He wouldn’t remember.”
Remus pushed open the off-white door and a light bell tinkered as they stepped into the second hand shop. Oldies music played quietly through the isles, racks and shelves of clothes were pushed together in an almost impressive tetris style feat. The air, of course, smelled sweetly stale, like musty leather and cigarettes.
“If you don’t find anything good you can always transfigure them.” Remus muttered into Sirius’ ear. He shivered just a bit.
“Might do, though the wand I’ve got is a bit transfiguration challenged.” Sirius had started to thumb through a tops rack, stopping every now and then to examine an item or two.
“You can use my wand, it's always liked you well enough. Where’d you get that wand from anyway?”
“Drunk wizard in Hogsmeade. Not my fault, everyone knows dogs like sticks.”
“Mhm, he should’ve known better” Remus had (predictably) moved around to the sweater rack on the other side. He pushed the sweaters down the rack one by one, feeling the variations of fabric.
“Need more sweaters, do you? Preparing for the frigid temperatures of July?”
“Shut up.”
Sirius snickered. He continued to look through the shirts, holding a few up for a better look. “What's in style, these days? Muggle or wizard wise?”
“Fuck if I know.” Remus had just stuck to his traditional knit-jumper-and-jeans style he’d been known for, with the occasional traditional robes for jobs.
“I s’ppose I’ve got to dress like a proper adult now, don’t I?” Sirius wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“No, not if you don’t want to.”
They walked out of the store with a few pairs of jeans (some to be modified) and many many shirts.
A day later they were once again sitting awkwardly at the dining room table, sipping tea in silence, only this time Albus Dumbledore was with them.
“I’ve been in contact with all of the members you had alerted, thank you Sirius.”
He cleared his throat and responded on an off beat, “Yeah, no problem, Professor.”
Remus tapped his long knobby fingers against the side of the ceramic mug. “What's the next move for Harry? I don’t feel too great about his current placement.”
“He’s where he needs to be.” Dumbledore said firmly, clearly not looking for any feedback or arguments. Of course Sirius ignored that.
“He’s miserable. Safe means nothing if he’s-”
“He’s where he needs to be.”
Sirius tensed his jaw and was about to snap back when Remus placed a hand on his knee under the table,
“What else is there to do?” Remus cut in, Dumbledore’s eyes snapped to him only softening a bit.
“We need safe houses, a new headquarters and allies. ” He knew exactly where this was going.
“Are we doing more missions? Like before?” Sirius asked, his tone slightly less harsh.
“You’re still a wanted man Sirius, you need to stay here. Remus, I might need you to call on you.” Sirius wasn’t done.
“So I’m just supposed to sit and wait here? No, c’mon, I must be able to do something, I can use polyjuice or use Padfoot.”
“Polyjuice can malfunction and Voldemort likely knows you’re an animagus.You’re staying here.” No nonsense tone again. Dumbledore stood up from his seat, his red silk robes sliding down from the chair smoothly.
“So what? What now?” Remus cut in again. Sirius crossed his arms and looked away.
“I’ll send you an owl when I know, for now we’re just gathering ourselves back together.”
Remus stood up after him, “That's it?” his tone was frustrated now too. “What are we to say to Harry?”
“Nothing. No more than necessary, he needn’t know.”
“We can’t just tell him nothing that's cruel, he deserves to-” Dumbledore cut Remus off sharply, “He deserves to have some peace of mind this summer, I think.”
Peace of mind my arse, thought Remus and Sirius.
“Notify me if you find anything that would be helpful. I think I’ll make my leave here.” he gave a condescending smile, finished his tea and left.
“Blasted old man.” Sirius snarled at the closed door, standing up too and beginning to pace around. “I’ve been on the run for a whole fucking year, now he just wants me to sit all nice and quiet? I’ll go mad. Madder.” A faded snap sounded in the distance as Dumbledore passed the barriers of the protection charms.
“Sirius-”
“And Harry! Stuck in that blasted house! Peace of mind this summer? He just saw someone die for Godric's sake, we can’t just keep him in the dark- ”
“Sirius!”
“I should just go take him myself, away from that blasted house, away from that blasted old man-”
“SIRIUS”
Sirius’ eyes flashed towards him, the anger sizzling out and turning to helplessness.
“I know he’s probably right, and I know he probably knows what he's doing.” Sirius said quietly, looking down and swallowing before continuing, “But I can’t just do nothing, I can’t, Remus. I fucking hate it.”
“Then we won’t do nothing, we’ll just do the best we can, yeah?” Sirius nodded once, then again as he took a few calming breaths. “I’m gonna go out for a walk I think. As Padfoot.” he reassured as Remus went to protest.
“Stay close please? Within the boundaries?” Sirius gave him a tight smile and walked out the door.
------
Grief is funny. On paper it seems so simple. 5 easy steps to help you get over it! In books and movies people seem to grieve instantly. They see death, they mourn it, they understand it, they move on. They go through the stages so prettily, so neatly, like they scheduled it. 11:15 today, just before lunch.
Sirius hasn’t followed the order at all. Maybe he’s an outlier in that sense, or maybe this is the norm and everyone is too ashamed and embarrassed to own up to it.
Denial.
It's pretty hard to deny James and Lily’s death when he saw their still bodies frozen on the floor. He’d felt the stillness when he closed James’ eyes. Felt the stillness when he kissed his forehead. Felt the stillness when he did the same to Lily. Felt the stillness when he vomited on the carpet and held onto James’ shoulder for support.
Anger.
That was aimed at Peter. That was directed through his hoarse voice, “How could you?” He’d screamed, “How fucking could you?! You bastard, THEY TRUSTED YOU!”
God, if you’d only heard him that day. You’d wonder how he’s not mute all these years later. You’d wonder how his voice is still pleasantly smooth and not croaky like an old toad’s.
Bargaining.
What is bargaining? What is there to bargain? Was it the pleas he’d choked on when he saw where he was headed? All his “No, I’m innocent!”’s? All his “No, I’m not to blame!”’s?
Was it his knees scraped on concrete floors, begging to the moon, begging to His moon?
How are you to bargain when you have nothing left to sacrifice? What pieces and offerings could he have possibly given?
Depression.
That was simple. Azkaban. The year after his escape. Now.
Acceptance.
He’d accepted they were gone. He’d accepted they weren’t coming back. He’d accepted he lost everything to his name and everyone to his heart. So what else was there to do?
Accept that he had a part in this. Accept that Harry grew up the same way he did because of his actions. Accept that things would never be the same. Accept that he’d lost 12 years of his life which was essentially only another death to grieve.
Maybe he was still stuck on Depression.
Buckbeak had come to stand next to him, nudging his beak around his body in search of some meat, letting out an unimpressed snort when he found nothing. Sirius just carefully moved to press his hand into his head.
Despite it being late June-practically-July, the Yorkshire air fed him a pleasantly cool breeze. Tossing around his hair and wrapping itself around him with a reassuring touch.
This air was friendly and calming, such a violent contrast to Azkaban’s sticky chilling rope of a wind.
------
The sun had gone down ages ago. They’d had a simple stew and bread for dinner alongside some cheap wine Remus had lying around.
“I have a bunch of old Daily Prophets if you’d like to read through them.” Remus had offered as he sent the dishes to the sink to be washed with a brisk wave of his wand. Perhaps a bit too briskly, his old ceramics clanged dangerously together but miraculously not a chip was made. “Get caught up on the happenings and all.”
“Please, I don’t even know what Quidditch teams are still around.”
He’d been quietly flipping through the records and making small comments like “Irelands done bloody well for themselves” or “Blimey, Warbeck is still popular?” and “Fucking Lockheart?”
Remus would reply while reading his own book (Lord of the Rings) with some “Is that good thing? Or are we mad about that?” and “Mhm, though you’ve got to admit some of it’s pretty catchy.” and, of course. “Oh god I know, I thought I’d lost it completely when he started turning up.”
Until, “Walburga’s dead.”
“No one told you?” “Nope.”
“Oh.“
Sirius raised his glass, “Good riddance you old nasty hag!” and downed the entirety of his recently topped up wine glass. Remus raised his in solidarity and followed suit.
“Who d’you think she left it all to?” Sirius pondered, following his finger along the article, “There was no one left ‘cept me and Andy but we’re both disinherited. Says blast all here.”
He looked up and to the floor for a second, then raised his voice to a firm demand “Kreacher?”
A small snap and a wrinkly old house elf was sat on the carpet between the both of them.
Kreacher looked around in confusion, made eye contact with his (not-so-newly-appointed) master and began to let out a series of unpleasantly shrill yelps, shrieks and snarls. There may have been some words in there but they were indistinguishable from the nonsense pouring out of the elf’s maw.
“Silence.” Sirius said firmly, looking at the house elf with great disgust. He looked up to Remus and said dryly “We may have a headquarters for Dumbledore.”
“Headquarters?”
“If I’ve managed to get custody of that,” he nodded to the increasingly reddening Kreacher who had fallen to his knees and was grasping at the carpet, all while mouthing insults, slurs and profanity. “Then that means dear old Mummy forgot to officially disown me. I’ve got Grimmauld Place. Probably the whole fortune as well.”
“Great.” replied Remus matching the other’s dry tone. “At least now you’ve got something to do.”
------
Within a day of notifying Dumbledore, they were sent a response, a date, a location (that vanished off of the paper as soon as they memorized it) and Sirius’ old wand.
Typically, once found guilty, a witch or wizard’s wand was snapped before the Wizengamot. Because of the mess that was Sirius’ sentencing, this detail was overlooked. The wand had just simply been forgotten.
It was likely better to not question how Dumbledore had gotten a hold of it.
Sirius pressed his thumb into the runes he’d carved into the dark wood all those years ago and immediately he felt safer.
More or less human, they read. Wasn’t that more relevant than ever.
-------
On the first of July at 11:15am, the two Marauders apparated into an alleyway a block from Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Both men were heavily disguised. Sirius had dawned a long grey beard and a near-bald head. He’d also been shrunk about half a foot, making him even shorter than the now-even-taller, younger looking Remus, who’s own blond hair was cropped into a Beatle-like bob.
“Y’know the whole point of a disguise is to blend in, Sirius.” Remus said under his breath to Sirius, who was grasping a crooked cane and exaggeratingly trembling.
“The whole point of a disguise is to hide who you are, I’m just having fun with it.”
The only reason Sirius was allowed to come along in the first place was because they likely wouldn't survive entering the residence without him. Hee was overly gleeful about the outing itself. Though the pit in the bottom of his stomach was growing increasingly heavy as they neared the front door, which was only protected with quite a few very powerful anti-muggle wards.
They approached the front door, Remus casting a few basic diagnostic charms, making sure nothing would immediately kill or maim them. Sirius just eyed the estate with evident disgust.
“For a family who hated muggles so much, you’d think they’d live in a wizarding neighbourhood.” Remus tried to break the silence.
“They lived here first, too stubborn to move after the muggles moved in around them, though they’d complain about it frequently enough.” Sirius said distantly, twirling a finger around his beard.
Remus hesitated for a second, then bent down to take Sirius’ hand. “Ready?”
“Mhm, ready.”
Sirius pointed his wand at the door, and with a bone-shivering creak it opened.
The gas lamps lining the front-hallway flickered on one by one with a small whomph, illuminating a depressingly painting hallway. The black carpet was covered in dust and dirt and the walls were covered in a dark green pinstripe wallpaper and lined with multiple portraits, though most were vacant. The smell of water-rot filled their nostrils.
Even from the first glance down the hallway it was clear this was a Slytherin's house. As they stepped over the threshold a cold burst of wind pushed right through them. The two men readied their wands, closing the door behind them.
“Homenum-revelio” Nothing.
“Don’t think anything human is gonna be here.”
“Can’t think of the general one.”
Remus wracked his brain, “...Revelio?” A few thumps and crashes came from above.
“Great.”
“Could be anything, could be a cat.”
“Don’t think your mum would be a cat person- Don’t you dare make a dog-person joke.”
“No fun at all.” Sirius mumbled, carefully stepping forward through the narrow hallway. He turned towards the door on the left, pushing it open quickly. Remus moved behind him, watching as the chandelier lit up the sitting room, shocking a cornish pixie out of the crystals. It frantically looked around, temporarily blind, then zeroed in on the two men. Remus lazily shot an immobulus at it before it came any closer.
“I’m gonna be honest, I’m a bit disappointed. I was expecting more life-threatening pizzaz.” A second after Sirius had closed his mouth, over 30 more pixies emerged from behind various hiding places.
“Oh for- Immobulus!” He shouted. All the pixies immediately froze. “See? I’m just mildly irritated.” He flicked his wand at the pixies again, sending them all towards the floor with a loud thud. A second later a horrible screeching began to echo through the house (impressively, considering the cramped acoustics)
“THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL IS THAT” Roared Sirius, covering his ears and moving back towards the hallway, Remus following behind.
They come up to a massive portrait near the end of the hall. The subject of the painting was contorting her face horrendously, her skin red and sickly with the effort she was pouring into her foul words.
“SILENCIO”
“SILENCIO MAXIMA”
Walburga continued to move her face grotesquely, though effectively silenced.
“That’s gonna have to go as soon as possible.”
“Agreed, though I’d let Mad-eye sort it out. Who knows what she's done to protect it.”
Remus went back to the sitting room and returned with a dusty maroon pillow. He transfigured it into a thick velvet curtain and hung it above the painting.
“Moving on.”
Sirius led them towards the door at the end of the hall. The door was partly open, revealing a long thin dining room table that fit with the rest of the house’s ‘Squished to Fit’ theme.
They began to move up the stairs, once again Sirius in the lead. He continued up past the first landing, and the second, all the way up until the stairs brought them to the uppermost floor.
There were three doors, two next to each other, firmly shut, and one opening to reveal a bathroom.
The two doors were labelled R.A.B. and S.O.B, the second complete with various scorch marks.
Sirius looked between the two doors, his eyes lingering on the former. His jaw tensed, and he set his shoulders back. Remus reached forward and grasped his hand, squeezing.
Sirius moved forward towards his old room and turned the engraved knob.
The room was untouched.
The bed was messily made, books were strewn across the floor, several posters he’d stuck to the walls were still intact (though surrounded by scorch marks similar to the ones on the door.) A Gryffindor flag was strung up next to the window.
The walls were also lined with photos.
James had purchased a polaroid camera sometime in the summer before 3rd year and had quickly become enamoured with it. He’d charmed it, of course, so the pictures moved and he’d managed to work out an endless supply of film.
He took pictures of everything, and he was good at it too. Their dormitory walls were covered with them. The Potter’s home was covered in them. Everyone had their own small collage.
Remus’ own collage had since been moved to his Hogwarts trunk, but before he’d kept the photos wherever he could. He’d use them as bookmarks, tuck them behind picture frames, group them next to his plants.
Peter had a scrapbook that he’d kept his in. God only knows what had happened to it.
Sirius had a wall of his own in the Potters, of course. But before he left he’d had a spot of his own in his old bedroom right above his fireplace. It was his favourite part of his room. One of the only spots that wasn’t decorated in fiery rebellion.
There was one of the quidditch team the first year both he and James had tried out. They were towards the front, grinning madly and arms wrapped around one another's shoulders.
One of Sirius and Euphemia, the first and only time she had tried to teach him to bake.
One of him and Remus, stretched out on the grass in 7th year, their pinkies visibly entwined.
One of all of them and an unamused McGonagall.
One of Peter and Remus dressed as James and Sirius, and James and Sirius dressed as Peter and Remus, respectfully. (for Halloween of course.)
One of Dumbledore’s delighted expression when he’d come to discover his office had been painted a brilliant pink.
Another of him lying on top of Remus in the Gryffindor common room. Remus had one hand propping open a book and the other gliding through Sirius’ hair while he slept on/
Present day Remus and Sirius were still holding hands completely silent. Sirius’ eyes lingered on Peter’s young and happy face.
“I keep trying to think back, and figure out when he stopped being on our side.” He said.
“Me too.”
“I can’t think of it, he never changed to me, not anymore than the rest of us did with the war.”
“I think it was probably around the time things got really bad, when it looked like we weren’t gonna win.”
“He’s a fucking coward.” Snarled Sirius, “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”
“I’m glad I didn’t let you. You’d be back in Azkaban.”
Sirius was silent at that.
“Why did you trust me then? In the shrieking shack and not before? What changed?”
Sirius was facing him now, his eyes were a mix of anger and hurt. He pulled his hand from Remus’ grip.
“I knew Peter was alive and hiding in the castle and if he was alive and hiding from me then something was wrong. I worked out from there.”
“And before? Why didn’t you trust me then?”
“All I knew was someone had betrayed them, I didn’t think it was you at first but Dumbledore seemed so sure-”
“So you trusted Dumbledore over me?”
“What else could I have done? Every bit of evidence we had pointed to you. To us it looked like you broke fidelius then once that was over with you went to kill Peter. There were multiple witnesses! I didn’t want to believe it but nothing was in your favour!”
“I didn’t even get a fucking trial!” He roared.
“What was I supposed to do?! Dumbledore wasn’t listening, I had just lost everyone and my fucking boyfriend who hadn't been talking to me was in jail for murder and betrayal! Both of which he seemed completely guilty for! What would you have done then?”
“I would’ve trusted you!!”
“Would you? Because from my point of view you didn’t seem too fucking trustful towards the end. I go off to do the only thing anyone is letting me do because they don’t trust me to be left with anything else and when I come back you act like I betrayed you!”
He was shouting too at this point.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Sirius? Any of you? Why didn’t I know that you’d switched secret keepers?”
“We didn’t know we were going to do it until Peter suggested it that day! Said I was the obvious choice and that no one would suspect him. We switched in the morning and by the night they were dead. You were off Merlin knows where.”
Oh. That- Oh. That actually made sense. Oh.
They were all forbidden from sending messages by owl or patronus anyway, it was too risky.
“I thought you all thought I was the mole.” He barely even whispered it.
“What?”
“I thought you all thought I was the mole.I thought, because ever since I’d left to the wolf pack you’d been so distant, all of you. I thought that maybe you started to think that I was switching sides. Afterwards, I thought that you all thought I would betray you.” He’d stopped shouting, just running through his words tiredly, letting his voice break.
“I was concerned for a bit,” Sirius started slowly, “You were gone so much and you weren’t talking to me or any of us, and you were gone so much. I had no idea what was happening. Peter was suspicious of you. Or pretending to be suspicious of you. James shut him down completely but he got into my head a bit.” He admitted quietly.
Sirius opened his mouth a few more times, trying to formulate a sentence, “...Why were you gone so much?”
“I was with the packs. Spying. I never brought it up half on Dumbledore's orders half because I didn’t want you to worry, or know really. It was all he was letting me do and I had to do something.”
The first time Remus had set out to Greyback’s pack Sirius had been worried sick. When he returned all bloody broken and halfway to death, his fears were confirmed and solidified. So when Dumbledore handed Remus another mission they had the biggest fight they’d ever had.
They’d yelled for hours, said so many things they didn’t mean and didn’t really believe.
Sirius fought in the mindset of a worried boyfriend, thinking his lover was out on a suicide mission.
Remus fought in the mindset of a man half consumed by the fear that he wasn’t trusted, and half consumed by the frustration that in the eyes of the Order this was all he was good for.
He kept agreeing to missions, despite Sirius’ protests, he just kept it vague. Told him the bare minimum .
The fight was technically over within a few days, but nothing was resolved. They were walking through a home built of eggshells.
A few months later Remus was handed yet another mission.
“Just a small thing, Dumbledore's orders, I’m not supposed to tell.”
“We never paid attention to that before. We told each other everything.” Sirius spoke stiffly.
He doesn’t trust you, why should he? He thought bitterly.
“I’d tell you if I needed to. Nothing to worry about. ” he tried for a soothing tone but it just felt awkward, shifty.
Remus picked up his small bag, packed with some extra clothes, a few books and some medical supplies.
“Come home soon, please.”
“I will. I promise.” He gave a small smile and slipped through their front door.
He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t kiss him. He just left.
Two days later he received an owl.
The next time he saw Sirius was over 12 years later in the Shrieking Shack.
“God, I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you, I should’ve listened to you.”
“Yeah. But it’s not like I didn’t make any stupid mistakes either.”
He moved towards Remus and wrapped his arms around him, just like he did back then. “It was war.”
Remus moved his arms around Sirius and for a moment they just stood there and breathed each other in, rocking back and forth gently.
Remus pulled away just slightly and looked down into Sirius’ eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I lost faith in you so easily, I’m so sorry I didn’t fight for a trial for you, I’m sorry I kept leaving.”
Sirius pressed their foreheads together. “I forgive you. It's all been a mess, we’ve both made so many mistakes.”
Remus pressed a sweet kiss first into Sirius’ cheekbone, then the other, on the middle of his nose, on the corner of his mouth, and finally, on his top lip.
They just held each other trying to get as close as humanly possible.
“We’ll talk through it more, yeah? Really talk.” Remus looked between Sirius’ grey eyes.
“Really talk.”
Remus pulled away first, nudging Sirius’ nose with his own and pushing back loose strands of hair. “We should owl Dumbledore.”
“Don’t think he's all that interested in our relationship, oddly enough.” His heart gave a zing! at relationship.
“No you idiot, about the house, let him know we're not dead. He can send Mad-eye in once you’ve fixed the wards.”
“Right.” Sirius grinned, looking over his face and moving in closer again.
Remus let him give a light kiss, then pulled away again. “That means you have to go change the wards.”
“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”
“Definitely not.” He gave another soft kiss. “But the sooner you fix the wards the sooner we can leave your creepy childhood bedroom and go back home.”
Sirius pulled away fully and ran out of the room, “On it!”
They still had much to talk about. That much baggage needs time and care to mend. But it was a start.
Later that day they fell into the same bed, and slept. Clinging comfortably onto each other. They felt rested for the first time in over a decade.
--------
They talked. Boy did they talk. They spent the next few days doing nothing but talking over milky tea, coffee and various biscuits. Leaving once to get some groceries from the local market. There were small fights, disagreements and times where one or both of them had to step away.
But it felt good. It was freeing, to unravel all this baggage that they’d dragged around for all this time.
-----
July 12th 1995 carried with it the full moon.
This time was easier. Much easier.
With Sirius funds they were able to afford Wolfsbane.
Remus tucked himself in the old barn near the back of his property where Buckbeak had been staying (Buckbeak was moved to a make-shift enclosure at the opposite end for the night.)
They just slept that whole night. The wolf and the dog curled around each other, peacefully.
Being under the wolfsbane potion had been extremely unpleasant during his Hogwarts stay. A man trapped inside of the body of a monster. He’d felt horrid, and mutated, though of course he rathered mental anguish over the possibility of him injuring another person.
But this was almost peaceful in comparison. He still hated it of course, the transformation itself was and would always be agony. But he just slept comfortably.
He woke up to his bones shifting back into place, whimpering through the pops and grinding of his body settling.
As soon as it was done he felt fingers in his hair and rough lips on his forehead.
“Morning, Love.” He opened his eyes to see Sirius sitting up next to him, wearing nothing but a long black fur robe. The sun was barely peeking through the gaps in the wooden walls.
“Shall I draw a bath?” He spoke softly, moving his hand to hold his shoulder, pressing into it with his thumb.
“Mm, in a bit, please.” He croaked. “I’d like to stay here for a bit.”
Sirius pressed another kiss into his hairline and moved to lie next to him. Remus warily pushed himself up just a bit, hissing through the stinging of his bones, and laid himself on Sirius’ chest. They slept into the late hours of the morning.
--------
The first order meeting took place a day later past supper time at the Grimmauld place dining room table.
Remus and Sirius were neither the first nor the last to arrive, entering the manor pleasantly on time. The first to greet them was Mad-eye.
“Nasty home you’ve got here, Black.” He grumbled, though it was difficult to tell if he was irritated or indifferent.
“Don’t I know it.” Replied Sirius grimly.
They went to find a seat towards the back of the dining room, Remus sitting with obvious relief as his still-sore body relaxed. Sirius sat beside him and casually placed across the back of his chair, thumbing at Remus’ shoulder. He looked over to where Mundungus Fletcher was passionately (or as passionately as a man 2 gillyweed-blunts in can be) rambling about something to a clearly uninterested Ms Figg.
“Mr Lupin, Mr Black.” He whirled around to where McGonagall was standing next to Remus. Stiffening, he replied. “Professor.”
“‘’Lo Professor.”
She looked between them for a second, then responded with a gentle smile, “It's good to see you two.” She placed a kind hand on Remus’ shoulder as she passed by and moved on towards Dumbledore.”
Sirius’ heart warmed as his trademark grin grew on his face.
“I always knew she loved us, I knew it.”
Remus just rolled his eyes and leaned back into Sirius’ shoulder, “You’re impossible.”
They quickly turned their heads to a loud thud and the following Sorry! Came from the front-hallway. The purple-haired auror that had ‘questioned’ Remus last year, Nymphadora Tonks, entered the dining room, followed by Sturgis Podmore.
“Hey! Remus!” She said excitedly, immediately heading for them, slowing down slightly once she spotted Sirius.
“Nymphadora?” Sirius questioned “Tonks, call me Tonks.” She said, wrinkling her nose. “I’m glad you weren’t a traitor, by the way.” She said bluntly. Sirius barked out a laugh in response.
“I’ve gotta go find Mad-eye, Wother Remus” She winked and turned on her heel, immediately running into the table’s edge and grunting. She looked back in embarrassment, her hair turning a light pink, and continued towards Mad-eye, who was having a conversation with a newly arrived Kingsley in the corner.
Remus turned to look at Sirius, who’s face had become pensive.
“You okay?” He gently asked. Sirius nodded, “It's easy to forget how long I was gone sometimes. Merlin, she was what- 8 or 9 the last time I saw her? She’s grown up. ‘S weird.”
Remus put his hand on his knee under the table and squeezed, “You’re here now, not gonna miss anything else.”
Molly, Arthur, Bill and Charlie Weasley piled into the dining room next. Molly was carrying a big weaved basket covered in a raggedy cloth. She heaved the bag onto the table and began to set out several glass containers with various baked sweets packed in.
Arthur greeted Mad-eye and Kingsley, nodding in his wife’s direction and offering ‘Molly stress bakes.’ by way of an explanation, continuing on into a ministry focused conversation.
Molly had finished unpacking her bag and was now side-eying Sirius.
Sirius assumed Dumbledore had given everyone a debriefing of his innocence, but he somewhat understood the hesitance. Especially with how much Molly obviously had taken Harry in as her own. Though it still rubbed him the wrong way, the judgement in her eyes.
Of course, they’d known each other during the first war, but they hadn’t spoken all that much. Sirius was a part of the younger reckless group, Molly was wiser and less careless or reckless.
He gave her a small wave and smile, which both caused her to narrow her eyes and relax.
Arthur was much less hesitant, making his way over now that he was done with Moody and Kingsley.
“‘Lo gents.” He greeted, “It's good to see you both, though I’d rather it wasn’t like this.”
“Evening, Arthur.” Remus replied.
“When are we getting started d’you think?”Arthur asked, looking around the mostly full room.
“Around now, I suppose. There's Dumbledore” He said, indicating towards the door where Dumbledore had just glided into the room, followed by a sulking Snape.
Remus felt Sirius tense beside him, the arm around his shoulder drawing him in closer. Though he wasn’t sure whose presence was the cause for his response.
“Hello again, all of you. I begin this meeting of the Order of The Phoenix. No information given is to leave this room, no matter whom it is shared with.” Dumbledore’s gaze flits over the grim faces regarding him. He pauses for a second, then continues.
“Voldemort is back, the war continues.”
-----
The meeting was long. Dumbledore caught them all up on what exactly was happening. Voldemort's return, how it happened, the graveyard, wormtail. It was hard. It felt like it was Before all over again.
Ff Remus zoned out enough he could pretend they were all 15 years younger. He could pretend that Bill and Tonks next to him were James and Lily. He could pretend they were in an old safehouse and the children of the members could he heard cheerily playing in a room while their parents read over missions and strategies. . He could pretend his body was much less scarred and that Sirius was next to him in a healthy young glow instead of the gaunt sickly shade his skin carried now.
The meeting ended with instructions.
Mundungus and Figg were to watch over Harry, Tonks Arthur, Kingsley and Bill were to act as spies within the ministry with different focuses depending on their variety of department. Molly was to keep the Order itself in check. Remus, Sturgis, and Emmeline were to be on general duty for missions and on-call jobs.
Everyone was given at least something.
Except Sirius.
He wasn’t subtle about his discontentment as the meeting went on and it became increasingly clear that he was being ignored.
As soon as the meeting officially ended and people began to make their way out the door, Sirius marched over to Dumbledore.
“What can I do? I don’t fancy sitting around and being useless.” He said, his tone remarkably level.
“Research would be fine.” Dumbledore still had that condescending and tired tone slipping out around his words.
“I was trained as an auror, I’m a bloody good wizard. I’m not anymore at risk than anyone in the old Order working at the ministry.”
“You’re a wanted man Sirius, you’re no good to us in Azkaban. If Fudge found out you were with us then the entire Order would be under fire for hiding a fugitive before we’d even get the chance to do anything worthy of an arrest. You’re a liability.”
A liability. A fucking liability.
“You have two higher up auror members, can’t they clear my name?”
“Not with Fudge in charge. “ Dumbledore’s gaze softened a smidge. “I’m sorry Sirius, but there really is no choice.”
Sirius let out a defeated sigh and turned back to where Remus was talking with Arthur and Tonks.
“Sirius, I need someone to stay at Headquarters at all times. You are binded to this house by magic, I need you to stay here.”
“No.” Hard no. Staying here? Here?! “I’m sorry Professor I can’t do that, not here.”
“This isn’t a request, Sirius, it's an order. I need you here.” He clenched his hands together painfully, digging his bitten fingernails into the meat of his palm. “Fine.” He gritted out. “I’ll be back.”
He turned sharply and headed towards Remus, whose expression changed to one of concern as he made eye contact with him.
They made their leave as quickly as they could without being outright rude. Remus politely handled goodbye’s while Sirius struggled to make sure he kept his magic in check.
They disapparated as soon as they hit the street and felt the familiar tingle of passing through the thick wards.
-----
“What happened?” Remus demanded as soon as they passed their own wards.
“I’m supposed to stay at Grimmauld place. Permanently.” Sirius said lowly.
“What the fuck?”
“They need a person to watch over Headquarters permanently. Dumbledore said I have to do it ‘cause I’m magically bound to that place.”
“He fucking knows why you left! He can’t make you stay there! What is he thinking?!”
Sirius just shook his head, “He’s not gonna be persuaded.”
“I’m coming with you then.”
“No, I can’t ask that of you.”
“I’m not leaving you there alone, no fucking way. I’m not leaving you period.” He stroked his thumb along Sirius’ cheekbone.
“We’ll go tomorrow, yeah? Rest tonight. It's midnight anyway.” Sirius nodded into his hand.
“Oh fuck, what are we gonna do with Buckbeak?”
“Give him your mother’s room.”
“I don’t think he deserves that.” Sirius tiredly forced out a laugh.
They slowly meandered towards the general area of the cottage. The summer-night chill pleasantly sent chills down their backs and gently pushing the air around their faces.
The porch light flickered on as they clambered up the wooden steps.
“Would you like a cuppa ‘fore we turn in?” Remus said quietly as they took off their coats and boots. “Or a shot of firewhiskey might be more appropriate.”
“Just to bed, I think.” Sleep now. They could deal with this all in the morning.
Sirius set his wand on the bedside table and peeled all of his clothes off, throwing them in a pile on the ground. Remus did the same only a few feet away. They used Remus’ wand to clean their teeth and scrubbed their faces clean and red in the bathroom sink.
Sirius flopped onto the bed first, pushing the sheets down and onto the floor with his feet. He starfished out and sighed. Remus lay on top of him, pressing his face into his tacky chest.
They slept.