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Sirius Black got out of the black Range Rover followed by his best friend, James Potter. They had just arrived to the massive building in which Sirius unvisited penthouse rested. After five years of exile, since his parents had disinherited him, he had returned home. During his time gone, he had stayed with his uncle Alphard in Paris, and when he had died due to a renal failure, he’d left every single one of his possessions to Sirius’ name, including an important number of stocks in Black Enterprises, a telecommunication monopoly that extended all over Godric’s Hollow’s territory.
Uncle Alphard’s money had given him a safe way to return to Godric’s Hollow and face his parents. He was yet to decide what he was going to do with his part of his family’s company, but he had come back for a more important matter.
Sirius and Remus Lupin, the heir to the throne, had met when they were just five years old, in some presumptuous party full of the richest and most horrible people that inhabited Godric’s. Sirius hated and resented his parents with good reason, but there was some part of him that was terribly grateful towards those awful parties. Otherwise, he’d never met Remus, James, whose parents owned a successful company of beauty and health care products, and Peter, the heir to the Pettigrew family.
The four of them had established a beautiful friendship not long after their first meeting. They’d all assisted the same kindergarten, elementary school and then spent six years together at Hogwarts before going to college. Halfway through his degree in Economic Sciences in the University of Gryffindor, Sirius had been disinherited and had left to Paris, where he finished his studies.
It all seemed awfully understanding, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Sirius had left just after the pinnacle of his flirting with Remus had taken place. Years of yearning and pining had led to them finally kissing, half-drunk and high after a party and walking the lonely streets towards their dorms.
“Remus,” he’d said, hiccupping slightly. “Remus, come.”
Remus turned towards him with a giant smile. His face was illuminated by the yellow glow of a lamppost and his breath smell of cheap alcohol when he got closer. Sirius had taken his hand after leaving the party on the flimsy excuse of “How am I gonna tell the Queen that his drunk son got killed by his horrible coordination and lack of tolerance to alcohol?”
Afterwards, Remus had given some mumbled answer about how his lack of tolerance to alcohol was just another disgrace to the crown. “Kings are supposed to know how to drink, Sirius.”
“Most of them were just drunk farts, Remus, I don’t think any alcohol tolerance is required.”
“The whole gay thing is definitely a disappointment then,” he’d said, not quite serious or understandable and balancing dangerously on the sidewalk. “Mom already knows, but I’ve no idea how dad’s going to take it. Might as well be disinherited someday.”
“He loves you, Remus, he’s going to understand,” he’d answered, after a beat too long because the information he had just received was too precious.
He did suspect Remus wasn’t too inclined towards women, but the reassurance that he wasn’t at all did incredible things to Sirius heart.
It took Sirius half a mile of walking in silence to talk again. And when he’d come close enough to Remus, he’d stood as close as humanely possible, standing chest to chest and with Remus expensive sneakers touching his.
“Is this alright?” he’d asked, anxious to get an answer. Remus had barely nodded before he’d crashed their mouths together. Holding Remus waist and feeling his arms around his neck had been almost a religious experience to Sirius. It had all gone wrong, though, the next morning, when Sirius was awoken by his parents’ missed calls and James frantic knocking on his door.
His parents, by methods yet undeciphered by Sirius, had found about his feelings for Remus and threatened to out the prince if he didn’t cut their relationship immediately. James had come in name of Alphard, with a plane ticket in hand and a suitcase ready. He’d never loved James more, but his heart ached with the idea of leaving Remus.
He’d been able to explain to Remus what had happened, of course, in the era of technology and communication he’d gotten a new phone as soon as he’d landed in France and had called Remus. However, it’d been years since then and he wasn’t even certain that Remus in all his drunk glory had remembered their kiss, and he’d been still too shaken with the events of the last hours to mention it.
Now, back in Godric’s for good, he was set to prevent a wedding. Remus, who had come out two years before, almost as equally accepted as criticized, was going to marry Benjy Fenwick, the duke of some nowhere territory north of Godric’s. Sirius knew Benjy, of course. Godric’s was, after all, not a very large place, and being of the elite population through most of his life he was well acquainted with all the rich kids. Especially with the ones four years older than him and who threatened to steal the love of his life.
It’s five in the afternoon when he slides the key into his penthouse door, James close behind.
“Oh wow,” James whistles, “your uncle’s got some taste.”
“As if you have any taste to tell, James, please. But, yes, it’s actually quite nicer than I would’ve thought. His flat in France was a tad too baroque for my liking.”
“I liked it.”
“Exactly. Anyways, we should start getting ready, the ball’s in two hours and I don’t want to be late, I want to be the first to dance with Remus.”
“I would’ve thought appearing in the middle of the ball would’ve been more striking, don’t you think? He’ll be dancing with some bloke when he meets your eye across the room. I’m as straight as it gets, but I can’t deny Remus is as a pretty as a flower when he blushes.”
“Ugh, don’t I know? He’s so cute, but no, Jamie, enough wait. I’ve dreamed of this moment basically since I left and I can’t wait any longer. Plus, I don’t want that Benjy fellow getting his dirty paws all over him.”
“Benjy’s not so bad,” James mumbles. They were both polo teammates and James is loyal to his kind.
“Not good enough for Remus, anyway,” Sirius answers hotly, though unsatisfied by James noncommittal hum. “Kreacher said our suits are in our rooms. Yours should be in the guest room, be ready by seven.”
“Yeah, yeah, dad, I won’t be late for your prince charming.”
_
At seven on the dot, they’re both looking stunning, and going down the lift, on their way to the car. James blue suit contrasts attractively against his skin, and his black curls, which usually resemble more of a bird’s nest than hair, fall rather nicely in his forehead. Sirius wears a dark green suit that brings out the greyness of his eyes. His hair remains free with several strands falling over his face, and he blushes like a teenager when he remembers sunny afternoons, laying with his head in Remus long legs while he pushed Sirius hair behind his ears and caressed his skull.
Kreacher is waiting for them, and drives them silently to the Lupin’s palace. The ride is charged with Sirius’ anxious energy and James attempt at helping Sirius relax. They arrive at the Lupin manor shortly after. They both get out of the car under the flashes of cameras and the shocked surprise of reporters who didn’t expect the exiled Black to show up.
It’s all waiting from then on. Watching new guests come inside and saying their hellos to faces they won’t remember an hour later. They both stick close to the Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, James’ parents, who know must of the attendees like the palm of their hands. Also, Fleamont likes to gossip and can tell a story like nobody’s business.
At eight o’clock, the entrance of the queen and the king is announced, and the guests gather around bright, polished stairs that lead into an ample empty space so as to accommodate the hundreds of attendees. The ball is just some unnecessary formality sponsored by the royal family’s supporters before Remus’ coronation in two months.
Hope and Lyall walk down the stairs with huge smiles plastered to their faces and elegant gowns covering their bodies. They walk hand in hand, and wait for their son downstairs. Finally, he appears. Remus is more beautiful than Sirius remembered. Facetime and the intrusive pictures of paparazzi do him no credit. His golden curls look soft and bright. His smile is shy and sweet, and a well-tailored velvet suit hugs his strong frame. Halfway down the stairs, Remus and Sirius make eye contact, but Remus, well-practiced in the art of never showing what he’s feeling, keeps on walking with just the tiniest surprise shown on his face.
They’re all then led to a larger room with its wide glass doors opened onto a green, flowery garden and the sight of the lake reflecting the shining full moon.
It takes Sirius another half hour to gather the courage to walk towards Remus, where he stands with his parents talking to some (probably) important diplomat. He doesn’t make eye contact while striding towards Remus. (If he’s stopped, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to gather the courage again to talk to Remus).
“Your majesty,” he addresses them, first speaking to Hope and Lyall.
“Mr. Black, what a pleasure to have you back in Godric’s. You have been dearly missed,” Hope answers kindly while Sirius kisses her hand.
“I missed Godric’s very much too, ma’am.”
“Mr. Black, good to have you back,” Lyall says.
“Thank you, sir.” He takes a deep breathe. “Prince Remus, it’s great to see you. May I have this dance?” Remus visibly swallows, squares his shoulders, and a too formal smile appears on his face.
“Of course, Mr. Black.” Sirius extends his hand, and Remus takes it delicately.
He walks them to the centre of the room, where most of the guests are dancing in a slow pace and wraps a hand around Remus waist instantly.
“I’d prefer to lead, Mr. Black.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Sirius places his hand on Remus’ shoulder and the other one remains holding Remus’ hand. Remus’ other arm snakes around Sirius’ waist. “I’m very happy to see you again, Rem. I’ve missed you like crazy. Facetime does you no credit, you look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Sirius. You’re not too bad yourself,” he replies, with, finally, a small smile lighting his face. His dimples are yet to be seen but Sirius can be patient. Or so he thinks.
“I,” he says nervously, “I saw you were getting married. Rita Skeeter was particularly outraged by how much of a horrible groom you are. Said something about spitting on the wedding planner when they chose red roses instead of lilies.”
Remus laughs quietly just for Sirius, and there they are, making their miraculous appearance the dimples have returned.
“Our friend Rita has always been quite my admirer as you can see. Ever since I was five years old and made that horrible tantrum during one of my father’s speeches. The only time she’s been honest about me,” Sirius laughs, holding tighter onto Remus’ shoulder and getting an inch closer than is appropriate in public. “But, no, I’m not getting married. Nothing is set it stone, Sirius. Benjy hasn’t even proposed and if the rumours of him and some Mary fellow are true, he’s not going to any time soon.”
“What? But what about The Prophet’s decreet? I thought it was all official. And what about your coronation? Shouldn’t you be married before becoming king?”
“Please. Do you, of all people, believe the paper where Rita Skeeter works to say anything honest? And it’s not the fucking eighteenth century, I do not need a husband to rule. Unless you’re offering, that is.”
“Of course, I’m offering,” he snorts. “I don’t think you understand, Remus, I had planned a very dramatic entrance once the priest asked if anyone was against you and Benjy’s union.”
“I figured,” Remus laughs beautifully, holding tighter onto Sirius’ waist. “Well, I’m definitely not marrying Benjy, but I can’t say I’m sorry about all the media’s fuss. It brought you back, didn’t it?”
“It did. I was always planning to return. I’ve finally got my degree and Alphard’s inheritance has been very helpful. I do miss him like mad, though, the grumpy old man.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss, Sirius, I know how important he was to you.”
“Yes, he made my stay in Paris bearable. But, anyways, onto cheerer matters, I was all but ready to duel Benjy. I’ll protect your virgin and delicate self with my own blood, Remus. Jokes aside.”
“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I’m truly happy you’re back, Sirius. The last few years have been incredibly difficult without you.”
“I missed you so much, Rem, every day. But maybe well, maybe you are in need of some economic advisor? You know, when your time to rule comes.”
“Oh certainly. In close quarters also. Who knows when I’ll need some advice? Kings never sleep, you know? Does the royal chamber sound good enough?”
“It’ll do, I guess,” Remus rolls his eyes, laughing. Sirius can’t keep the smile off his face. “I’m serious, Remus, no pun intended. I came back for you. My family can’t touch me anymore and I really want to give us a chance.”
“You never said anything,” Remus whispers, “after we kissed. I thought you regretted it. Or you’d forgotten it.”
“No, never, I was just scared. But I’m ready now. If you are too, of course, and if you still want me.”
“I do, fuck, Sirius, I really do.” A second later, with Remus bright, earnest eyes looking right into his soul, Remus stands on his toes and kisses Sirius square on the mouth. It’s a short thing, but fuck it if it doesn’t leave Sirius thrumming with electricity and yearning for more.
“Fuck, Remus, I might be too forward, but I’d take you right here. I’m afraid it could damage your public image a bit though, if your guests saw you with your royal ass in the air and bent over the first flat surface I can find” Sirius groans. Remus steps closer and he can feel himself grow hard.
“Later,” Remus whispers on his ear. “We've waited for years, surely you can handle a couple more hours. And, well, you’re really staying for good?”
“Yes, definitely for good, Remus. I’m here for the long-haul. I’ve been in love with you just half my life, you see.”
“In love, you say?”
“Yes, in love,” he answers, without a second of hesitation.
“Meet me in my room later. By midnight. I hope most people will have left by then.”
“I will,” Sirius says earnestly.
“Great,” Remus smiles, dimples in full splendour. “I must go and greet some of the guests, but, do wait for me. Please.”
“Of course, Remus, always.”
As he sees Remus go, turning slightly to gaze at him like a teenager in love, he returns his love’s smile. Weirdly enough, a certain gratefulness towards Rita Skeeter’s slander and Benjy Fenwick’s wandering hands spreads in his chest. His awaited return was very much worth it.