Archive of Our Own

James jokingly called it an initiation, Peter rolled his eyes and softly smiled, quickly returning to whatever essay he was weeks behind on. Sirius mostly scoffed at him, telling him “it isn't a big deal, she's been an honorary marauder for years already” , but his brow furrowed whenever he did so. 

Remus was happy for James, however he still whispered reassurances in Sirius' ear under a silencing charm every evening, because “yes, things are changing and it can't always be like it was when we were eleven, but change isn't bad, and we're still us, still alive, still kicking” and “This” , he would gesture to them, curled under the covers of Remus' bed, Sirius' head resting on his chest, his fingers entwined in dark hair, like thin vines of plants, or the sea after a storm, “hasn't changed anything, has it? Well maybe it has, but it's a creeping sort of a change, a soft and gentle one, and you can feel it before it comes and settles.” . 

Sirius would sigh, and let Remus draw circles (and unconsciously, all sorts of runes and sigils, mostly spelling out his love and protection) on his skin, detangling knots and worries.

The initiation James spoke of was his over-dramatized way of referring to their plan to sit Lily - now James' girlfriend - down, and as carefully as possible attempt to relay it to her that her now boyfriend may be an illegal animagus, as well as his two friends, and one of them may be a werewolf - no need to worry, we've got it all perfectly under control - with as little backlash as possible. The last part was perhaps a little too optimistic, but what can one do but hope against the force of nature that is Lily Evans.

Whenever James tried to form conversation starters, or prepare sentences in his head, he would end up pacing around their dorm and would every thirty seconds turn to whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves on the receiving end of his renowned brainstorming  and hit them with a phrase like “My good friend, old sport, I have an idea. I could say, 'You know the song Black Dog by Led Zeppelin, yes? Well, what if I told you-' no, that's bad, I can do better.” or “What if I just turned into a stag in front of her and pulled a good old fashioned show-don't-tell?” or “I could ask her 'If you were an animal, what would you be?' and then just… something something we can turn into things?” . Curiously, said individual would usually run away, and he never seemed to find the perfect answer.

When it happened to be Remus and Sirius, they would usually glance at each other with raised eyebrows and sideways smiles, thoughts full of one particular secret that ached to be shared. 

Sometimes, James would play a record loudly and then proceed to twirl Lily across the common room, leaving them both flushed and giddy, or Peter would fell asleep at his desk, and Emmeline would gently blow air into his face, startling him and then tackling him and pushing them both on the couch, laughing. Remus and Sirius would then catch each other wistfully glancing, and they didn't need words to express their thoughts. They sometimes spoke about it, about telling people, but they never got to the end of the conversation, a mysterious change of topic sneaking its way between the words.

_____

In the end, it was quite poorly planned, but nobody was particularly shocked. It was a warm evening, and the arrival of spring could be tasted in the air, that is, if you had enough of the green goods a bunch of sixth year Hufflepuffs somehow always procured from thin air before every party. The common room was empty, except for the Marauders, and Lily, which was quite strange for a Friday night. Perhaps there was a party in Ravenclaw tower, for all they knew. There was a pack of fags on the windowsill, a blanket originally thrown across one of the sizeable scarlet sofas, but now half-rumpled on the floor, a discarded bottle of wine, originally on the short table next to the sofa, now lost without tracks, perhaps Peter had gotten to it, and a silver shock of moonlight breaking in the mosaiced windows, leaving all sorts of shadows on the hardwood floor.

Lily was resting her feet on James', Sirius was tapping his fingers against Remus' arm, and the scratching of a record player needle could be heard in a distant corner. The record changed, on its own, charmed to immediately queue David Bowie's whole discography in chronological order, unless someone changed it, and Sirius's fingers began drumming to a piano beat. Remus murmured along with the song, his lips moving to form the familiar words, which caused a softness to flare in his chest, like a songbird at the crack of dawn: “ And so the days float through my eyes / But still the days seem the same” .

Peter spoke, more to himself: “I bloody love this song.” 

James jumped to his feet, his eyes sparkling. “This is it !” 

“This is what?” The question seemed to come from several people at once.

James laughed, wide and excited. “The initiation, of course! There won't be a more perfect moment!”  Remus sighed, as did Sirius and Peter, their nervousness tangible in the air. Lily only raised her eyebrows in confusion. “The what ?”

“I think,” James began, skillfully avoiding Lily's interrogating gaze, “that we should move to the floor, form a nice little… circle of friendship.” When he was met with general negligence towards his enthusiastic pushing and prodding, James huffed. “Come on, you wasted youths - Pads, Moony, don't tell me you're going to deny yourself the opportunity to have a life-changing event happen to the tune of Changes! It's fucking perfect.” 

Remus and Sirius had to admit that it was a pretty strong argument. 

Several minutes and tired groans later, they were, indeed, on the floor in a circle, wide awake and slightly twitchy. Lily kept glancing towards Remus, trying to catch his eyes in the hopes of a reasonable explanation, but he only offered her a shrug. James ran his hands through his hair, adjusted his glasses, and sat uncomfortably straight. “You must be wondering why I have gathered you here today-” Sirius began chuckling uncontrollably, and Remus had to hit his back several times so he would stop coughing. 

Lily eyed them both desperately. “Spit it out, Potter. And if you make me do a blood wow, I'll have you know that I've read extensively about magical vows, and will probably critique your performance. Just a note.” She smiled sweetly, and nobody commented on the matter of blood vows in Lily's vicinity, ever again.

James seemed to be deeply considering his next words. “Maybe we should do this maturely, gradually, you know - ”

“Spit it out.”

“Alright, but you insisted. We just thought… that with you being officially part of the group - not saying you weren't before, Sirius did say he considered you a honorary marauder for years already, it just seemed like the right time, you know, like - ” Remus was biting his laughter back hard. “Anyway, we thought we should, uh, let you in on some of our, um,” he cleared his throat, “inside intel.”.

Through half-grins, Remus and Sirius watched Lily take a deep breath, look up, a muggle habit that she did not try to get rid of, then take another, and then coarsely and with a sweet grin ask James “What have you done now?”.

Sirius let his grin grow wider. “Well, we didn't do anything. Now. As you've put it. It's more about what we have been doing for a while. Continuously. Non-stop. Unceasingly, if you will.” Remus wheezed.

The atmosphere in the room was a mix of warily confused (Lily), attempting maturity and failing (James), deeply amused by James' struggles (Sirius), surprisingly entertained (Remus) and mysteriously quiet (Peter). 

Lily looked conflicted. “I want to believe that it can't be that bad, considering that you seem to have been doing whatever 'it' is for a while now, but I know you and I don't want to give myself hope.”

“Fantastic thinking, love!” Peter reemerged from his half-asleep state. An expectant silence filled the room.

“I think...” Sirius began. 

“Are you sure about that?” James interrupted him cheekily. 

“Sod off, Prongsie. I think we should let Moony say it. The first bit, at least.”

James nodded, understanding, whereas Remus was nervously cracking his knuckles. “Alright, but then you lot -” he pointedly glared at Sirius and James, primarily, “- need to explain exactly what terrible and ill-advised choice you've made once you found out.”

“Best choice I've made in my life up to that point. One of the best ones.” Sirius muttered, glancing at Remus. The best choice after loving you.

Remus gave him a small smile, then turned to Lily. “This has gone on for too long. You're very likely the cleverest among us here.” Sounds of agreement could be heard from everyone present. “I wouldn't be surprised if you've already worked it out yourself.”

Lily cleared her throat, drumming her fingers against the carpeted floor. “Well, Severus…”

“Do not mention the name of that devilish fiend under my roof!” James protested. Lily paid him no heed. “It's not your roof, Potter. Let me finish.” James seemed to look slightly guilty.

“Severus had a hunch which he kindly, against my best wishes, shared with me. I thought it was absolutely raving mad when he first brought it up. But I… I couldn't get it out of my mind. I will admit it makes a hell lot of sense. The um. The periodic stays at the hospital wing, the nickname, your patronus. That bloody boggart in the charms classroom closet in fifth year.” She avoided meeting Remus' eyes. Remus was never quite sure if his Patronus was a particularly wild-looking dog, or a wolf, and Sirius wondered the same.

“You can say it, you know.” He encouraged her.

“Remus Lupin, you… you bookworm , are you a goddamn werewolf?”

“Yes, Lily, I am, heh, a bit of both.” He winked at Sirius, who rolled his eyes so intensely they nearly drank afternoon tea in the back of his mind.

Lily grasped James' hand, taking a deep breath. 

“Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?” Sirius grinned.  “And honestly, Moons, we did not need to be forced to endure your godforsaken puns - ” 

“Shush, Padfoot.”

“It's alright, James.” Lily let go of his hand. “It's quite alright.” She took another pause, smiling shyly. “I care for you all the same, Remus. You're my friend. I don't think that could ever change. And I think I knew for a while now.”

“Thank you. It's a lot better now, then when I was younger. I've had wonderful help.” He smiled at the marauders. Remus paused, shortly, thinking about the pros and cons of having an emotional conversation about his particular furry little problem at midnight, half-drunk and severely caffeinated. With a meaningful look directed to Lily, saying Yes, we can talk about it, I'm okay with it, just not now , and her winking back, he smiled and turned to James and Sirius with a grin, “With that being said, I suppose I should let them explain what they came up with.”

“There is more?” Lily thought she must have aged several dozen years when she heard James.

“Oh yes.”

Remus leaned back on Sirius' shoulder, then looked up and grinned at his expression.

James coughed a few times, then took a large swig of the wine they had completely forgotten. 

“We-became-Animagi.” He slurred.

“You what ?” Lily's tone was somewhere between a veela screech and a disappointed parent.

“You heard him.” Sirius grinned.

“Merlin's bloody beard… How? What? When? ”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and in his best dramatic voice, declared: “Well, firstly, the noble mage must submit themselves to the intensely difficult ordeal of carrying a single Mandrake leaf in their mouth for one whole lunar cycle , thence they must uncover a place neither sunlight nor hand of man   hath touched and - “

“I don't think that's what she wants to know, you dog.” Sirius made a face at James, who rolled his eyes and stared pleadingly at Lily. 

“Please try to understand this from our perspective, Lils.”

“I guess I should just degenerate my brain until there's no brain cells left, then! As no underage mage attempting to turn into an animagus clearly has any!” Lily coldly retorted, grinning at Sirius.

“I am deeply hurt, dearest Lily flower! You have killed me!” Sirius  attempted to fling himself dramatically to the floor, but then realized the thick carpet didn't cover the whole of the hardwood floor, and promptly yelped in pain.

“Suits you right, Pads.” Remus chuckled under his breath. “Perhaps if you weren't as flamboyant as a goddamn wine-drunk peacock, you would hurt your head a bit less. Or perhaps those two things are connected.”

“Moony, you wound me! My fickle heart cannot withstand this slander!” Remus only sipped his glass of wine, perhaps a little too quickly.

James straightened his back, attempting to seem collected and failing marvellously.

“Children! Behave!”

Sirius gave him the finger.

“What I was trying to say, before I was so rudely interrupted by both the love of my life - honestly, the betrayal -,” Lily rolled her eyes, giving James a quick peck on the cheek. “and this crash course in court jestery that I have the bitter pleasure of calling my friend group,” he winked at Sirius and Pete, “is that Remus was our friend.” 

“Who said I was dead?” Remus mumbled under his breath. James quickly returned, “Nobody is dead, I'm constructing an argument. Shut up, you twat.”

“My point,” he continued “is that once we learned what was going on, we were desperate to help. I'm aware it will never be more difficult for us than it is for him, but we couldn't stand and watch, could we now? We take care of each other.”

Lily sighed in a way that mostly could be read as you-mad-caring-idiot-I-love-you, but also as you're-barking-mad. Apparently, she'd said that last bit out loud.

Sirius saw his chance and seized it. “Technically speaking, I'm the one who's barking mad. If you catch my drift.” He winked. Remus gave him a look of such deep and comical disappointment it was ridiculous. James had to keep himself from swearing at any and all gods he could name.

Sirius paid no heed to any of them.

“We had many ideas. All sorts of charms and potions - sleeping ones, calming ones, poorly reverse-engineered animal transfiguration, language spells for 'animal whispering', as muggles fancy calling it. You name it, we thought of it. Pete even thought we could mess up the moon, somehow. Merlin knows what the fuck he meant with that. Care to fill us in on your master plan, oh-so-wise-one?”

Peter grumbled, apparently on the verge of wine-induced sleep. “Well- you berk. If the moon's gone then, uh, it's solved, right? Obviously I was joking, though. You simply misunderstand the creative width I possess. Fucker.” 

Sirius snorted, took Peter's wine bottle off him and took a swig himself.

“Damn right. Just need to get the moon out of the sky!” He put the bottle down, fumbling with his lighter - painted blue, pink and white. “ Anyway , it was I that came up with the Animagi idea, obviously .” He winked at Remus. “Minnie jumped me in her lovely feline form when I dozed off in Transfiguration that one dark and stormy Wednesday, and a light bulb lit above my head! Glorious! Then it was just a matter of taking years to finally complete the process.”

Lily sighed. “Why am I not surprised?” James was grinning at Sirius' storytelling, but Remus squeezed Sirius' hand, softly, behind their backs, and he knew he'd done well.

They were quiet for a little while, and only then did it become apparent the record had ended. The final, lilting sounds of Hunky Dory faded away, and Sirius quickly got up to play something new.

“I never quite understood why you liked Hunky Dory that much, Pads. I always thought it was a bit… scratchy. John Lennon but severely hungover. Or Marc Bolan with a throat ache. A bit indecisive, or whatever. Play something lively, will you?”

Sirius gaped at James in mock-offence, sorting through records. “But Jamesie! That's the whole point!” 

“I don't follow.” 

Remus smirked, knowing the tangent Sirius was about to go on. “It's the ambiguity, the kitsch, the overt mockery of the increasingly high-brow music culture - only Bowie can pull off class and punk and old cinema and bloody drag, all in one album. Think of the theatre of it all!” And the unbridled display of queerness , he thought, but kept that to himself.

Remus couldn't help himself. “If anything, the way it seems to be a mismatched clusterfuck of styles, influences and genres is much more than just on purpose - it's the central idea. Contrasts, duality, versatility. It may not be too overwhelming, but you have to admit that jumping from Quicksand, to Queen Bitch, to The Bewlay Brothers makes your head spin as if you're driven through some horror-tragicomedy rollercoaster ride."

“Ugh, alright, you bunch of pretentious pricks. Would you be merciful enough to play some Ramones now?”

Remus and Sirius shared a look.

“David Byrne?”

“David Byrne.”

“This, Prongsie dear, is fresh stuff. Came out two months ago. Experimental and glaringly art-school, but groundbreaking! Like renewable energy and spray paint but it's music.”

Sirius pulled out the Talking Heads' 77 album from their record shelf and played it while grinning at James, who buried his dark hair in the crook of Lily's neck, groaning in protest. 

“You're mad. Completely, utterly mad. I miss when you and Remus nearly fistfought over mod and rock, Moony in his black turtleneck and memorised Ginsberg poems and you in those straight cut slim jeans and the unidentifiable urge to make all the suits of armour sing Satisfaction by the Stones. Actually, I take that back, you were just as bad then.”

Sirius smiled at James. “We came to a consensus, actually. I nearly destroyed Moony's copy of The Doors of Perception , accidentally ended up reading it, and he lost his mind to The Kinks and Lola . We agreed we're mockers.”

Remus grumbled something about “horrendous puns”, “youth” and “honestly, stealing lines from Ringo Starr isn't going to make you sound cool, in fact, quite the opposite”.

Lily looked at them in confusion for several moments, but Remus clued her in. “It usually takes wizarding society a couple of years to pick up muggle trends and rebrand them. They only end up looking pretty embarrassing. We've been picking up speed, though, so you'll rarely see just-graduates sporting 'hot' fashion from a decade ago, as it was by the end of the 60s. Dad always talked about his new work colleagues with a specific type of condescendingness when they thought they would be the first to introduce an old man to Elvis. A certain old man who was at Woodstock, mind you. One of the perks of having a muggle wife, for him. It was quite funny for a while, seeing this berk -” he smirked at Sirius “- fawning about the Beatles in second year, saying they must be the 'next big thing' as if it wasn't 1972.” 

Sirius lightly elbowed him. “Didn't we just establish you were even more behind then I, you nerd?”

“Well, that's different, I was being vintage -” Sirius jokingly raised his eyebrows at him. “Fuck off.” Sirius snickered.

They settled back onto the floor, this time properly sharing glasses of firewhisky and soda. (James proclaimed he needed it desperately, and nobody argued.) Lily cleared her throat, glancing up. “I have one more question.”

“Bring it on, love!“ Sirius smiled at her.

“What are your animagus forms?”

“Can you guess?” James challenged.

“Oh, well. Based on information that I can now put into context, like that time in Divination when professor Troian near-fucking-screamed about an apparent grim-shaped leaf in your cup and James nearly laughed his brains out, and certain quotes and nicknames from your lovely bunch, namely, 'Padfoot', 'you dog' and 'barking mad' in the last hour, I'd say Sirius is a dog. Large, black dog. Am I right?”

In all honesty, Sirius did seem impressed. “Spot on, Evans! Now I think is the right time I mention that one of James' characteristically brilliant ideas on how to break the news was to pointedly play Black Dog by Led Zeppelin any time you walked into a room, for as long as it took you to either ask about it or figure it out.”

Lily wheezed and threw James an amused look. “You're cute when you try to be imaginative.” James pouted. Sirius was busy humming the lyrics to "I wanna be your dog" by the Stooges in Remus' ear, causing him to blush severely, which he decided wasn't Sirius at all, but just the side effects of excessive wine-drinking, thank you very much.

“Now, onwards, noble friends!” Remus had quite a bit of his alcoholic concoction already.

“Alright then. James is a bit more difficult, but 'Prongs' isn't really that hard to decipher. And even though I haven't seen his full corporeal patronus, it was large and seemed to make galloping sounds. Still, I'm not sure on the particular type of antler-bearing animal.” She was holding back a smile. “James Potter, do you turn into a reindeer?”

James sputtered, scandalised. “What? No! I'm not some gift-bearing, glorified donkey-”

“Do not insult the honourable animal that is the reindeer, Potter, you blasphemous git!” Sirius slurred his words slightly, accentuating the “P” in a hauntingly similar fashion to a certain oily-haired Slytherin, probably on purpose.

“I know, idiot, you're a stag, right?” Lily grinned at him.

“Of course I am. A proper, tall and mighty animal!”

“Is that to make up for the way you barely reach Evans' chin?”

“Piss off, Moony.”

“Never.” 

Remus ruffled James' hair.

“Is Petey still awake?” Sirius prodded him with his wand, but with no result.

“Care to guess anyway, Evans?”

“Might as well. I don't suppose he's an actual worm, is he?”

Sirius wheezed, whispering in Peter's ear drunkenly. “She thinks you're a worm, Woooormyyyy.”

“I do not. Wormtail is more… a mouse? Or a rat? Or one of those, uh... nighttime squirrels?”

Sirius was now laying in Remus's lap, barely conscious, muttering something that sounded a lot like “nighttime squirrel, qu'est-ce que c'est” , in absolutely no rhythmic accordance with the original tune of Psycho Killer . Remus smiled fondly, but quickly reprimanded himself for being so careless, and decided to instead listen to James rave on about Lily's guesses.

“Rats are so obviously cooler then mice, our dear Wormy is very cool indeed, and that fucking thing about 'nighttime squirrels', not even going to dignify that with an answer -”

“Yes, James, I know your friends are very cool, and maybe a bit nicer than I expected, now go bloody sleep.”

They quickly scuttled closer, now on the couch, which was uncomfortable enough that it made the option of waking up and parting ways to move to their respectable dormitories somewhere in the middle of the night inevitable, but they were together and sleeping, for now. 

As for Remus and Sirius, they too decided to share a couch, a combination of a need for closeness and trepidation constantly tangling and untangling them from one another.

_____

The next day found Remus and Sirius preparing to spend a comfortable afternoon together, without any disturbances. James had taken Lily out on a proper Hogsmeade date, and Peter probably did something similar. They'd given up plans to go out themselves, because inevitably, they would bump into one pair or the other, then they would simply have to go out together, and, well, time alone was sacred in Hogwarts, especially when you haven't told your best friends in the whole wide world you had been secretly dating your other best friend in the whole wide world, for a couple of years already.

They had been cuddling and lightly chatting for a while now, laying on Sirius' bed, sunlight streaming through the ornate and gothic windows.

"Remus, my eternal and unwavering love," Sirius took Remus' hand, hoisting him up in a sitting position. "We've entirely forgotten about that lovely rosé we've stored under your bed."

"You, my darling , are the only one who thinks rosé is 'lovely'. I'd deem it tolerable at best. But alright then, I won't oppose alcohol."

Sirius chuckled, and untangled himself from Remus' long limbs to fetch the aforementioned bottle of rosé. "Good man. And for the record, rosé? A wonderfully queer sort of a wine."

Remus, in the meantime, moved, and was now sat on the (much too spacious than strictly needed) windowsill. "All wine is inherently queer, you uncultured menace. You could suck it right from Dionysus' gender non-conforming tit, if you wanted to. But do elaborate."

Sirius sputtered, nearly dropping the bottle and the two glasses he'd procured from nowhere. "Well, you absolute heathen , rosé is inherently queer, as it rails against the binary conventions of wine. It would be ridiculous to only want one or the other, red or white, wouldn't it? You'd know."

Remus chuckled, as Sirius climbed on the windowsill, placing himself opposite of Remus. "Oh alright, you win. Git." 

They were silent, as Remus poured them both decent amounts, and Sirius procured his cigarettes from a pocket in his pajama bottoms. Remus lit one, then proceeded to wait for Sirius to light his and pick up his glass. They cheered, and Remus couldn't help but grin cheekily at Sirius, as he drank. "It's honestly ridiculous, how you insist on holding it the wrong way."

Sirius smiled, glancing at how Remus' bony fingers elegantly clasped the glass at the stem, while his own hugged the upper part, only increasing the way the sun had already warmed it to lukewarm at best. He was about to reply, but Remus interrupted him. "And before you say anything, I absolutely support your efforts to do exactly the opposite of whatever that old hag preached. But you still brush your teeth, and wear shoes, because that's not aristocratic bullshit, but just the way people go about life. You're warming up the wine like this."

"Well, perhaps, but think about how incredibly punk rock this is!" Sirius lightly pushed Remus, forcing him to grasp his glass with both hands to avoid spilling. "See? This is more stable. Wouldn't happen if you held it like I do."

"You are a terror upon this Earth, Sirius Black. I'm not going to argue wine-drinking with someone who drinks instant coffee on the daily, and always chugs it in one go." Remus leaned back and took a drag from his cigarette, shaking the bud into James' trainer they'd decided to use for the exact purpose, as revenge for the man in question making them overhear some enthusiastic snogging a week before.

Sirius did the same, chuckling as he did. "You, dear, are bloody ridiculous. How can you possibly bear drinking a single cup of espresso for two hours? Are you even human?"

Remus snorted, and held his cigarette between his teeth for a few moments, while he wiped his glasses, because he knew it made Sirius positively swoon. That is, the tongue-in-cheek way of holding his fag, not the glasses bit. And as expected, his lovely partner nearly burnt himself from forgetting to shake off excess ash from his cigarette. Remus laughed, and pointedly ignored him. "Everyone does it like that, you're the ridiculous one. Coffee is meant to be enjoyed, slowly. You smoke a little bit, sip some water, and talk a lot, and it's perfect. Exquisite, even."

Sirius rolled his eyes, and pecked his cheek. "You are so chronically pretentious, Remus Lupin. Shall I remind you that out of the two of us, I'm  the one who is actually fluent in an European language." When Remus opened his mouth to protest, Sirius quickly cut him off. "No, that nonsense that comes out of you when you're drunk that you claim is 'passable Italian, and a little bit of German' is an offence against god, and I won't stand for it."

Remus pouted, resting his feet across Sirius' knees. "Well, maybe , but I've actually been to these places. And you've never been to France. I've collected experiences, not words. And I am fluent in Hebrew, you sod."

Sirius grinned, not at all ruffled. "Sure you did, darling. Tell me about that time you were in Graz, and asked someone which way to the Sydney opera house, would you? And also, I speak Thai, so that's 3:2 for Sirius Black."

Remys gasped, somewhere between incredulous and actually offended. "I was seven, you berk! And, shall I remind you that I -" Sirius simply hummed at him, cutting him off.

"Come 'ere," Sirius waved his hand, inviting Remus to lean on him. "You are so ridiculous. You… you sweater-and-turtleneck-wearer, devotee to Russian literature, maudlin beat-poetry enjoyer, one who talked to me for hours about how queer figures in ancient mythology and their subsequent erasure relate to why Bowie's Ziggy Stardust and Morrison's Lizard King are inherently different personas, and who read Ocean Sea by Alessandro Baricco when he was 16 and decided to carry a plastic bottle of sea water from Gibraltar with him for months because 'the sea, Sirius, the sea, look, it's ending, I've made it finite', I love you. So much. And we need to talk."

Remus was smiling, listening to Sirius's tirade, knowing that he could also comment on how Sirius fancied himself a hardcore punk, which he intended to prove to Remus by demonstrating his best Blixa Bargeld-esque screams, only to then unhingedly belt the lyrics to Stayin' Alive, or insisted that he was not, under any circumstances, a "pretentious fucking lost-to-time beatnik" but rather a "modern intellectualist, Remus, do you want to hear my opinions on the postmodernists?", yet still attempted to convince James into renaming the Marauders into "angel-headed hipsters", but he did not. 

He simply scuttled closer, resting his head on Sirius's chest, knowing they were both extremely ridiculous, slightly pretentious, and very much in love. “I honestly did not like Ocean Sea, for the record. Far too many questionable elements to make up for several groundbreaking pages on how magnificent the sea is.”

He glanced up at Sirius, scrunching his nose at the black wisps of hair obstructing his view of Sirius at his most-concentrated. "And I love you for it. And you know, maybe we could cease trying to be so damn modern, because just being like this, us, soft and in love, is plenty rebellious." He smiled, gently, deciding to enjoy closeness now and worry later.

Sirius seemed to think the same. "Agreed, but also it is a bit fun. Being young, and all. All we have is time, right? And each other."

"Quite right." Remus lit another fag, enjoying the sunlight on his brow. "What did you want to talk about?"

Sirius is nervous, Remus can tell. Over the years they'd known each other, and then known each other, they'd been gradually letting down walls, allowing themselves to be open and weak. And now, Remus can read Sirius' nervousness in the way he keeps cracking his knuckles, and tries to keep his fingers from scratching at the chipped purple nail polish on his fingernails, and his constant fiddling with a stray wisp of hair. Sirius sighs, perhaps heavy, but still calm. 

"Us. We should talk about us. As in, how James keeps repeating that spring is the time of renewal, and 'isn't it strangely beautiful, Pads, all of us, no secrets, and all is well?', and, well, that does sound nice. I think we should be able to have that. We've had enough secrets for a decade now." 

Remus knew it was coming, deep down, and he doesn't not want it. "You're right, yes, we should. So you want to tell them?"

Remus runs his hand across Sirius's wrist, fingers lightly catching on the cuffs of his shirt.

"I think I do, yeah. Do you?" The "We aren't doing or saying anything if you're uncomfortable"  was understood without saying.

Remus slowly unbuttoned Sirius' cuff, absentmindedly folding it and revealing what was, according to a severely inebriated version of himself from a year ago, his favourite part of Sirius - a small patch of skin, littered with dots and symbols, permanently poked into his skin as a result of an impulsive decision made at 2 in the morning. 

"Yes, I do. I just… we've put it off for so long and reached this great understanding of our own relationship without actually thinking about the outside world. I'm scared it'll crack and break, this little love of ours." Remus didn't even notice his voice was cracking, or that he was blushing, and maybe holding Sirius' hand.

Lightly, as if moved by a summer breeze, Sirius clasped his hand around Remus', and slowly lifted it to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Remus could wax poetic about flower petals, and the waters of Cyprus, and a moon chariot, and valleys of gold, but he knew he didn't need gods or stories or poetry to seize this specific moment. It was wonderfully human, and as real as anything had ever been. Lips on his knuckles, hands, tender, love

"It won't. I promise." Remus had learned to trust that specific glint in a sea of grey, and so he did. "They're family. We are all we have , and all that jazz."

Remus hummed, recognizing the poem. "' This is the bread: body, soul, / exquisite tenderness. We are all we have.' Do you think it's meant to be read as religious? I don't think so."

Sirius laughed, eyes crinkling. "Definitely not. I always thought it's much like when you say that the only gods you ever saw fit to pray to are 'literature, wine, company, and a good laugh'. You're such a swot. But you're right."

Remus rolled his eyes, huffing, deciding to ignore any statement he made in the one month period he spent intensely enamoured with Oscar Wilde as truly his. "Perhaps, but there's also something else. Juxtaposing 'bread', as in, the body of Christ, as food and sustenance, and 'body', as carnal, and sinful, and perhaps even holier. And then there's tenderness. We might be entirely wrong, of course, but maybe we're always right about poetry as long as we believe it."

They burst into laughs, wide and happy, and damn ridiculous. "Once again, we failed to finish that conversation," Sirius chuckled, pulling out another cigarette and gently tapping it on the marble windowsill. 

"Only because you insisted on quoting poetry, you know I can't shut up when I go on about religious symbolism. And you, with your post-punk hedonism, or whatever the hell you've got going on when you say 'I'm going to live like Nick Cave writes his novel - restlessly and without any consideration for things happening above and beyond'. Honestly, can't hold me accountable." Remus leaned closer, letting Sirius light his cigarette with the tip of his own. 

"Don't bring Nick Cave into this. My comfort real-life solemn vampire is my own business. And we did reach an agreement." Remus can feel Sirius' breath on his glasses, faintly smelling of wine, which was now more notable for its complete absence from the bottle. 

"Yeah. We tell them. When it feels right. Like James did yesterday."

Sirius nodded, and grabbed his wand from somewhere nearby. "Yes. That sounds good." Remus could count the individual particles of dust above Sirius' cheek, as the sunlight shone through the window. "Put on some music, eh?" 

“What do you want?”, Sirius asked, like a man laughing into the face of certain death.

“I want -” Remus paused, amused. “Yugoslav new wave. The 'fa-fa-fa' ones.”

Sirius would never let it show (he would), but he loved every single ridiculous musician Remus ever listened to. He laughed, and put the record on with far too much flare than strictly required. Remus noticed. "Do not slander Azra, you nasty Englishman."

“I would never - my taste is superior,” Sirius insisted.

Remus' eyebrows climbed so high they were lost in his sun-coloured curls, before a grin overtook his features. "Say what you want, but we both know I can arrange a summer holiday in the Mediterranean for us, and you, my love, cannot."

Sirius huffed, silenced, and leaned closer, deciding to pester Remus in other ways.

Remus suddenly zoned out, and he could hear the opening notes of the record thrumming through his mind, stirring up his thoughts, fueling the dazy afterglow of the wine and cigarettes. During the time they'd spent talking, the previously high sun had lowered on the horizon, now covering their dorm with a translucent blanket of liquid gold, spilling across Sirius's sharp features, and catching in the smoke curling up from his cigarette. The corner of his lip was slowly tugging upwards, as if in on some private joke. He had paint in the corner of his eye.

Sirius heard keys, guitars, and his heartbeat. A plant was wasting away in a corner, the tips of its leaves turning a startlingly vivid white, Remus had freckles across his shoulders, there was a crumpled Bowie poster falling off his bed, and  an ink stain on Remus' ring finger. 

"You're damn amazing, Remus Lupin." Sirius leaned closer, and proceeded to smooch Remus, accentuating each word with a more intense kiss. "So. Damn. Amazing. And clever. And pretty."

He would've gone on, if Remus hadn't decided to grasp his jaw, lightly, and press a finger to his lips, shushing him. "Let me." 

They kissed, both intimately and religiously, and pretentiously, and a tad smokily, as obviously one cannot keep track of a cigarette when in love. Remus smelled like coffee, parchment and the forest, Sirius like the ground after rain and a mix of perfume and cigarette smoke.

They carried on for a little while, when the distinct sound of James' docs kicking in the door suddenly reverberated through the room. He was in the door sooner than he'd finished yelling “Pads! Fucker! Where did you hide our last bloody wine?”.

Sirius and Remus promptly panicked, spilled the rest of the wine and nearly crashed to the floor, saving themselves only by messily grabbing each other's ties.

James stared for an extremely long half a minute. His eyes seemed to be hastily darting across the entire dorm, all cohesive thoughts turned to smoke. In the meantime, Remus and Sirius successfully managed to untangle themselves from each other, not in any immediate danger of falling anymore, and nervously sipped the only surviving remains of the unfortunate wine. Remus vanished the shards from the floor, along with the liquid. He grasped Sirius' hand lightly behind their backs. The timing sure was something.

Just when James seemed calm enough, and opened his mouth to speak, Peter and Lily rushed inside, highly confused.

“James? Pads? Remus?”, she began, eyeing them all across the room.

“You two are actually… oh-my-god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-I-”, James began muttering, but was interrupted by Remus, who decided that if at any time in his life, he needed to not panic and employ all of his excellent common sense, it was now.

“Hey Lily!”, he said, cheerily. Fake it 'til you make it. “Do you, by any chance, remember when in third year, I entrusted you with one particular… super secret teen crush?”

Sirius laughed, wide and slightly panicked. “Moony?”

“Shh, love, I'm making do.” Remus replied, looking Lily straight in the eye, hoping her admittedly brilliant abilities of reading the room will rid him of having to actually find a way to broach the subject.

“I do.” She eyed him conspiratorially.

“Well… it may have been mutual.” 

She paused for a second, taking in the whole room. The wine glasses, the record, the window setting. Then the whole group was privy to watching a puzzle slot into place inside the mind of one Lily Evans, bless her heart.

She chuckled.  “I think… we should leave you to your date.” She winked at them, then tugged at James and Peter's sleeves, beckonick them out the room. Sirius and Remus both offered her thankful nods in return.

As the door closed, they both released long and deep sighs.

“Just when we…” Sirius started, nervously laughing. 

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other for a little while, Remus massaging circles in Sirius's wrist.

“We'll be okay. We should go and explain properly, though. If you want to.”

Sirius smiled, softly. “Yes, I do, I think it would be nice. About time. Not the best way, but yeah. 'Bout time James worked himself out, too.”

They laughed, heartily, hugged and kissed. Then, they walked out the door, holding hands, immediately laying eyes on their friends chatting on their couch (not theirs properly, but informally known as The Couch Of The Marauders, or more popularly, Sit Here And There Will Be Consequences).

Lily glanced up, offering them a reassuring smile. Peter was scuttling in a corner, and James was hard to read - mostly because he looked guilty, pulling on his sleeves and drumming his leg. Sirius and Remus sat next to Lily, and for several seconds a silence overtook the room. Remus began worrying - they did not plan this, and attempting to convey all of his feelings wouldn't be easy.

In those short seconds, a lot flashed across his mind. He understood, he knew, that what they had, and did, couldn't be treated as a fling, or a curiosity, and they couldn't hide inside Hogwarts' thick walls forever. The world was outside, and the world wasn't always kind. Sirius seemed to be going through a similar thought process. He was absentmindedly scratching at his nail polish. He never quite noticed how unapologetic, how visible they were. They lived their queerness through books, films and records, spending hours upon hours discussing Marc Bolan or Lucien Carr, and never did it dawn on them that those stories are, in part, their own. They did not exist apart from the world, and it was never clearer then now.

Luckily, Lily thought ahead. Perhaps one day she will look back, and think, I needed this, and understand why she was so quick to empathise and try to understand. She nudged James' knee, and suddenly he snapped out of his stupor, seeming to remember something incredibly important.

“Oh!” His glasses nearly fell off. “I'm sorry, I'm really fucking sorry if all the confused muttering made you think I'm some goddamn bigot, I was only a bit taken-aback, I am definitely not a bigot, I love you both so much and I'm glad that you've found each other and I am once again sorry, and also sorry again if I was giving homophobic vibes or something, so you didn't tell, but obviously you are under no obligation to anyone to tell when you're not ready, which brings me to my final point, sorry for not knocking and messing shit up, and intruding on your privacy. Yeah. Whoopsie.” He delivered the whole speech without taking a single breath, and slurred half of it, but they all understood.

“Jamie,” Sirius began after a few seconds, “your apology is formally accepted, all of the apologies. You're good, don't worry.” James sighed a sigh of such tremendous relief it seemed like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. “Still,” Sirius continued, gently smiling at James, “we should probably talk about it.”

Sounds of agreement came from everyone present.

“So, to expand on what Sirius said -” Remus said, feeling like he did so many brave things today, he will be spent for six months now, “the confused muttering was a bit worrying, at first, I won't lie.” James winced, and Remus made sure to accentuate his next point. “But, considering you did walk in on your best mates shagging, pretty understandable, and honestly, I'd be more worried if you seemed completely unphased. If we were straight, the scenario probably wouldn't change much, honestly.”

“If I were straight, the world would be a much sadder place.” Sirius muttered, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“To continue this very emotional point I was making, before being interrupted.” He stared at Sirius specifically, “We know you're not a bigot, James, no need to worry about 'homophobic vibes'. I don't quite know why we've kept it a secret for this long, we just got used to our little private routine, and never gave it a second thought. Our collective group dynamic never changed, and it took us a long time to, you know, understand ourselves properly. We were also a bit scared, but more, uh… generally scared. Of things getting real. We actually, um” he chuckled, warmly, “agreed to tell you, just minutes before you barged in.”

James wheezed, a bit brokenly, shaking with laughter. “Oh Merlin, oh my god, I'm so sorry about that.” 

Sirius clapped his shoulder. “It's fine, mate. Only a bottle of wine was hurt. Knock next time, though. I always knock, when it's you and Evans.”

James blushed, but Lily only smiled widely. It seemed her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her, however. “When you say you 'kept it a secret for this long', how long, actually? If it's okay to ask, of course.”

“No, of course it's alright, I think you do deserve an explanation.” Sirius said, grinning.

Then, he and Remus shared a long look, seeming deep in thought. Sirius spoke first. “I mean, since always, I think. There's always been… something. Just a slightly different feeling. But the first time we kissed was in fifth year, and it didn't take us long to get to the 'proper relationship' stage,  whatever that meant.”

“Two whole years? And nobody ever noticed?” James' eyes were comically wide, and even Lily seemed a little surprised.

“Well, to be fair, you are completely oblivious at times. It's tragic.” Remus grinned at him.

“Do not sass me, Lupin, I am having emotions!” James exclaimed, and suddenly lunged at them both to give them a tight hug. “I feel like a mother who has just found out her children are growing up! You two! Two years, a stable relationship!”

“No need to sound so surprised about it, now!” Sirius muttered. Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Shush, Black. James is a mother hen. Let him. He'll be buying you plates and teapots in a week. Sirius pretended to be annoyed, but really, he just felt warm.

They sat in silence for a little while, enjoying each other's company. Remus suddenly realized that they've really done it, and they don't need to hide around their closest friends anymore, and promptly kissed Sirius on the cheek, and snuggled as close as possible. Sirius returned his affection, letting Remus wrap his long limbs around him. James and Lily were similarly positioned, and Peter fled somewhere in the middle of all the emotion, and was nowhere in sight. Sirius gave him a passing thought, thinking that maybe if he didn't want to stay, he shouldn't want him to, and then forgot all about it.

“What the bloody hell are you listening to?” Sometime during their heart-to-heart, the EKV album Sirius queued started playing, and James was sure to complain.

“New wave.” Remus replied, though a lopsided grin.

“New wave from where?” James was insistent.

“Yugoslavia.” Sirius supplied, helpfully.

“Merlin's fiery knickers, have you two ever listened to anything that doesn't sound like some art-nouveau wet dream? Would it kill you to play a chart-topping record?” James threw a pillow at them.

“It would knock us dead, point blank.” Remus dramatized.

Still, nobody changed the record, not even when Nick Cave came on, or The Pastels. We are all we have, indeed.

.

(i want to have 8000 words-shh)