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Remus was up early again, watching the morning mist snake and rise up around the trees through the window as the kettle began to sing behind him. A sort of morning routine ever since he moved back here. Despite the limited amount of sleep he seemed to be getting, he never stayed in bed late. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but thought it was perhaps something to do with the man sleeping across the hall in his childhood room. For some reason he felt this need to always be there, ready if Sirius ever needed anything – not that he was high maintenance. Mostly he just seemed very distant. The quietness was so unlike the Sirius Remus knew. It felt eerie…and sad.
***
Remus werewolf senses didn’t catch Sirius waking movements until the steeped tea was strong and dark and he had just finished frying up breakfast. Sirius creaked down the narrow stairs in the clothes Remus had given him to borrow - the fugitives opportunities to acquire new ones seemed to have been limited these past few months. Remus had given him his faded navy jumper, thinking of the boy’s deep sapphire eyes, now turned a steely grey - somehow still considering what would suit Sirius most after all that had happened and when there was really only him to see. The pair of flannel trousers had to be rolled up several times so Sirius didn’t trip on the floor.
“Morning,” Remus greeted in a friendly tone (almost but not quite forced), “Tea and breakfast,” gesturing at the pot and two plates he’d dished up. Sirius smiled at the table. Well, sort of. Remus decided it was decipherable as a smile – he hadn’t seen a real smile on his friends face since he’d been here except a brief, strange sort of grimace when Sirius had first arrived on Buckbeak. It had been one which seemed to hide a whole range of emotions as Sirius gazed first at the old cottage where he had sometimes visited during their Hogwarts summers, and then at Remus.
“I’m going to sit out on the porch steps if you want to come,” Remus decided on a whim, he felt the need for the cool biting air on his skin – the endless quiet of the cottage interior was making him feel claustrophobic. Sirius looked at him, quickly looking away when he met Remus eyes – something that Remus had come to expect over the past few days. Strangely it hurt. Though it had annoyed Remus when he was younger, when he hated being the centre of attention or being looked at on account of his scars, Sirius had used to always look at him. Remus remembered in their younger Hogwarts years he would often catch Sirius staring at him in class or when the Marauders were hanging by the fire in the common room. Instead of turning away like one usually would when caught staring, the blue-eyed boy would continue to do so shamelessly, sometimes giving Remus one of his characteristic grins. In their later years…well, Remus had begun to dislike Sirius staring less – he’d softened to it, the gaze being one of tenderness rather than curiosity. He’d often gazed back into those deep wells of blue.
Back in the present, Sirius nodded and picked up one of the plates, Remus leading the way out onto the porch. They ate in silence on the old steps worn from years of use, watching the last whisps of mist on the evergreens and soaking in the first fragile rays of sunlight. Some may have found the silence awkward or unbearable, but Remus had come to expect it – their conversations thus far had been few and far between, usually only arising out of necessity. Besides, he didn’t think Sirius seemed to notice. It didn’t seem like he thought much about the present moment. He always had a faraway gaze on his face. Gone were the days where he fidgeted and whined when there was nothing to do or no conversation to be had.
When he’d done with his eggs, Remus took out a cigarette and lit it between his lips with a snap of his fingers like Sirius had taught him in their 5th year, leaving his muggle lighter in his pocket. Though recently he didn’t smoke as much as he’d done back then, when he did, he always lit in muggle fashion. Magic often felt unnecessary or like it came harder than it used to before…well before everything. Or maybe it’s just a horrible reminder of what he lost. And now he was just getting all nostalgic, using magic again, thinking of his Hogwarts years, of –
He glanced sideways at the subject of this next clause who was slowly finishing his own breakfast - his once fine table manners clumsy and slow. Shaking the packet, he offered the smaller man a cigarette, handing him one when he accepted. Sirius hesitated after placing it between his lips, as if trying to remember something.
“Here,” Remus offered his hand out, index finger ready to strike against his thumb. Sirius leaned over and Remus lit it. They both leaned back, and the silence continued, the smoke from their cigarettes spilling out into the cold air and escaping with the mist.
The sun seemed to fully emerge, and Remus could hear the birds and woodland creatures coming awake in the woods. A rotted branch crashed to the forest floor and made Sirius jump; his eyes widening in a way that reminded Remus of a spooked dog.
“There’s plenty of protective enchantments up, don’t worry,” he reassured.
Sirius relaxed just a bit, casting another of his quick glances at Remus. This time the rejection made Remus fully realise how much he hated the distance between them, the silence, the fact Sirius couldn’t even look at him. He wondered what the exact reason was – he could guess at a few. But he felt desperate to keep talking – to make Sirius acknowledge him, listen to him.
“I would have made it unplottable,” he explained slightly apologetically, thinking of the ministry workers and dementors still out there looking for Sirius, “but I never got the hang of that sort of magic.”
Sirius head twitched as if it wanted to turn to Remus’ voice but was held back. His body turned a bit, but his face was facing down at Remus feet on the step. Encouraged ever so slightly, Remus continued on. It wasn’t exactly important information, but it was something to say, to hold Sirius’ attention if but for a few moments.
“I remember in school Kingsley was always good at that sort of spell work. He’s an auror now, he could probably do it. Or Moody for that matter, he was the expert in the Order’s days. I don’t exactly know either of them that well anymore though. I don’t mix much with the wizarding world.” Remus paused. From the little he could see of his face, Sirius seemed to be frowning.
“Apart from last year,” he added after a moment, daring to refer to it, to their first adrenaline rushed reunion where the story Remus had long struggled and agonised over reshuffled itself and finally made sense. Satisfying like finally figuring out the right places to fit the pieces of a puzzle, yet this satisfaction had a good aftertaste of anger and fury and regret and guilt and so much more.
He was daring Sirius to reply. Sirius who was still frowning. Burning a hole into Remus’ left sock.
“I--,“ his throat was hoarse with disuse, or maybe pent up emotion. Probably both.
Finally. Remus heart quickened.
“--I should be able to help you.”
It took Remus a second to realise what he meant. Oh. The enchantments. It wasn’t an offer. It was a regretful statement. An observation of what “should have been”.
The should have been’s and the what if’s hung in the air between them. Like a glass barrier, invisible, yet as solid as a wall.
Remus waited, pushing the “what if’s” to the back of his mind with practised motions, a habit which was only now slightly harder due to the man hunched over beside him. Sirius was silent again, but Remus knew from experience that he usually had more to say, so he waited patiently. After a while though he realised that maybe he didn’t intend to say more. After all, they were both of them changed from when they last knew each other. And Sirius had been alone so long he was probably as good at bottling his thoughts now as Remus. Drifting into nostalgia again, Remus mourned the confident boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. But then Sirius did speak again.
“I should…but, well…”
Remus held his breath.
“You know how the prophet goes on about how I am mad?” He said too causally, bluntly, his voice seemed to be warming up now and he didn’t wait for an answer. “How Azk – how it does that to you? Messes with your mind.”
Remus felt his eyes glued to the other man, finally, greedily snatching up the other’s words. Sirius, however, hadn’t moved from his position staring at Remus socks. His cigarette burned low, long forgotten.
“I think, well maybe I’m not off my rocker yet, but… well I can’t remember a lot. There’re gaps in my memory. The easiest stuff to remember is the stuff I don’t want to – the stuff those creatures made me re-live over and over again, the night—” he broke off with a tight, choking noise, as if holding back a sob or even an anguished scream.
Remus heart hurt. He wanted to reach out and hold him, take his hand or smooth back his beautiful hair, planting a kiss on top. He couldn’t though. They weren’t the same. He couldn’t act like he used to, it was one more instinct he had to put in check. So, tightly tying back his impulsive limbs, he just stared at Sirius whose expression was confused and pained, his breathing becoming uneven and his cigarette burning dangerously close to his fingers…
Remus couldn’t take it. He leaned forward and gently took the cigarette from Sirius’ long, gnarled fingers, snuffing it in the egg yolk on his discarded plate. Sirius gave only a small, shocked start, as if unused to gentle touch – or touch at all. Glancing up at Remus, his face was wary. Yet he continued to stare. Remus heart quickened, and he stared back intensely, openly displaying his own pain.
They sat there for a while, gazing into each other’s eyes like they used to do when they were young – only this time it was a different sea of emotions swirling behind their eyes. Sirius breath gave a violent hitch as if he was holding back sobs again. The ropes Remus had restrained himself with snapped. He needed to comfort him. They may have changed, things may not be the same, but really, they were still Remus and Sirius, maybe even in time they could be Moony and Padfoot to each other again. So, he gently placed one large warm hand over Sirius’ small, cold, pale one – still staring into each other’s eyes. Sirius seemed to break at the contact, his face scrunching up and his own hand moving to receive Remus’. Then he brought his other hand up and clutched at Remus jumper, burying his face in Remus chest, and slowly letting out quiet, desperate sobs.
Remus held him there. Feeling relief at the contact but also like his heart was being ripped apart – aching, his throat constricting. Soon, his own tears started to fall. Tears for the friends he’d lost. Tears for the fearful boy who killed them. Tears for the once confident man now broken and clutching at his chest. Tears for the boys they were and the years they’d lost.
“Moony,” Sirius barely whispered into his shoulder between sobs. It wasn’t a question, or even a plea. It was more of a greeting, Remus thought. The old Sirius finally recognising him for the same person he knew so deeply before. In some way it was a recognition different to Sirius mind just knowing that he was Remus Lupin. Perhaps it was Padfoot’s instincts – breathing in Remus’ scent, clutching him close, the dog star finally recognised his wolf.
“Padfoot,” Remus whispered back, gathering him closer and stroking his hair.
Sirius continued to cry but Remus thought perhaps there was tears of relief in there too. He liked to hope so. To hope that there was more than grief left in the once full heart of this man. His Padfoot.
***
They sat there, clutching at each other long after Sirius sobs had stopped rattling their thin bodies and Remus tears had dried upon his skin. The birds continued to sing, and the sun continued to rise. Still, it was early morning on the outskirts of Brecon and not exactly warm. Sirius shivered.
“C’mon,” Remus whispered gently, “let’s go inside by the fire.”
Slowly standing up, he helped Sirius – still clutching like a frightened child – with him. He could grab the plates later Remus thought vaguely, steering them towards the couch by the old brick mantelpiece.
Sirius seemed to have relaxed a bit out of Remus’ arms as they’d walked inside – regaining some of the distance that had sat between them these past few days. Remus panicked at first but forced himself to be patient, levitating a blanket over Sirius who looked up from where he’d just settled on the couch, a grateful but unsure look about his eyes again. Merely giving a small smile, watching Sirius to make sure it was okay, Remus timidly settled down next to him with one of his old paperbacks…it was Jane Eyre. Remus mentally rolled his eyes – perhaps that rat Wormtail was their wife in the attic. Only, though they were together again now, he, the “wife in the attic” was still alive. Remus almost shivered at the thought of that traitor running free, capable of some new mischief – a word it seemed, applicable to more than just childish pranks.
Though he and Sirius hadn’t exactly been avoiding each other these few days in the cottage, they’d maintained some sort of awkward, unspoken distance – one that might be kept between almost-strangers forced to share a living space. Remus broke it now by sitting so near. Sirius seemed to have relaxed a bit, though he no longer had the faraway look on his face. Remus thought that was good, but it made him more wary of his actions – he was dying to know what Sirius was thinking. Book still open, Remus stared past it, his other senses focused in on Sirius – his relatively calm breathing, yet stiff stillness…the soft thud thud of his heart which Remus could hear when he allowed himself to tune into his werewolf senses. The fire crackled, the birds continued their music outside, thud thud, thud thud…
Remus gave up on the book. There was no way he could focus enough to read the authoress’ descriptive prose and he wasn’t gaining anything from pretending to. Placing it on a side table strewn with other discarded novels, Remus carefully turned toward Sirius who was already watching him slightly warily, yet- was that? - a spark of hope as well? Remus hoped so. Though he was finding he couldn’t read Sirius like he used to, so he wasn’t ruling out wishful thinking.
Their eyes met, but Sirius didn’t flinch away like he had been doing. Not feeling ready to face similar emotions to a few minutes before, Remus decided not to try and talk. He just stared into Sirius eyes instead. Sirius seemed happy to do the same. They seemed to get closer as the seconds rolled by, lost in each other. Remus wasn’t sure if this was an illusion born of staring for so long or if they’d both actually leaned closer.
The fire popped loudly and with a startled blink from Sirius the illusion broke. Seizing the break in such intense eye contact, Remus slowly reached out his hand to Sirius shoulder – braving contact again. After a second, still timid and hesitant – so unlike the young and rowdy Sirius Black who’d had no notion of personal space – Sirius slowly leant over and settled against Remus side. Remus melted, his heart racing in nerves and excitement, and he wrapped his arm around him, tucking him in soundly like a mother hen her chick and Sirius seemed to fully relax. Sighing deeply and staring into the embers of the fire, his breathing soon turned to that of one consumed in deep sleep.
***
Sirius slept till the sun was high in the sky, but Remus didn’t feel the need to pick up his book again in those hours. Though the agony of the position they found themselves in after everything that happened was still lying just below the surface of his mind, he felt a comfort and protectiveness he hadn’t felt in over a decade. Sirius frail form by his side, his steady breathing was soothing. If Remus dreamed hard enough, closing his eyes, and focusing on the crackle of the fire and the warmth of the old lounge he could even imagine themselves back in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius having fallen asleep waiting for Remus who was reading a book or trying to cram in some late-night studying.
So that’s how Remus spent those hours that Sirius slept, relishing in the comfort of holding Sirius close – his thin body becoming soft and pliant in sleep and warmth. The smell of cigarettes and morning dew sitting atop the more solid smell that was so distinctly Padfoot, so familiar and unchanged that it made Remus heart ache with the memories. Remus dozed and daydreamt in this bittersweet comfort.
***
Remus stirred to a faint whimper from the body tucked into his side. Sirius brows were furrowed in a dream and before he could stop himself, he reached out and smoothed them out with a dry thumb. Sirius didn’t stir but his brows were less creased, he seemed to bury closer. Watching him for a few moments, Remus took in the changes the years and prison had wrought to Sirius face at a closer vantage point than he’d been allowed thus far. His stomach rumbled. Glancing at an old clock on the mantlepiece he saw it was already late afternoon. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Slowly, gently, he moved Sirius from his side to a cushion on the couch, readjusting the blanket over him and smoothing back his hair. In the kitchen Remus made tea and sandwiches, finishing his own back in the living room in an armchair across from Sirius. He left the other mans’ on the coffee table with a heating charm on the tea. Still feeling nostalgic, he wandered over to his mother’s old record player on the sideboard, flicking through a small collection of records sitting in a crate on the floor. Most things hadn’t been changed since his mum passed. He’d only come back to live here recently but he hadn’t changed anything when she initially died either. Apart from cleaning out any perishables from the pantry, he’d simply cast a few anti-dust charms and locked the place up. He was glad for it now. Though the tides of memories and ghosts of the past lingered and swelled with every old object or corner of the house, the pain was small in the face of the comfort and familiarity. Though it probably wasn’t healthy, it was easier sometimes to forget and pretend that the war had never happened, that he was here on a summer break from Hogwarts.
Flicking through, each album cover brought on a different memory. His mother’s favourite artists brought back summer evenings goofing around the living room together, or himself settled comfortably reading on the couch while his mother sung along, cooking dinner. But scattered among these there were also some others, somehow ending up there from his own collection or maybe one of his school friends (they’re collections seemed to always get mixed up when they brought them down to the common room for parties or borrowed from each other). Yes, he definitely did not own the ABBA record sitting there. It reminded him of the girls though – of Lily and Marlene and Dorcas and Mary. Someone had got the album in 6th year shortly after it was released. Remus used to groan every time they insisted on putting it on. Sirius would do the same, but he’d get up and dance with the girls every time, yelling the lyrics to Dancing Queen from the top of his lungs using his wand as a microphone. As much as he tried to keep up his punk rock persona, Remus saw through.
A stab of sadness shot through Remus, thinking of the husk of that boy that had been, who was sleeping across the room, who’d been lifelessly wandering around the house the past days. He glanced over. Sirius was still asleep, his face no longer furrowed, but blank and expressionless in his sleep. Clinging on to the hope of their brief connection earlier, Remus determined to try and bring some life back into the man he’d loved…loves? Yes, as much as he’d tried to deny it over the years, push it to the deep recesses of his mind, he still loves him. It was impossible for him to stop. He doesn’t know what that means for them now, but he decides dragging Sirius out of his depressed haze and the all-consuming nightmare’s is a start. Even if it meant suffering through ABBA…
Setting up the record player, muttering a quick reparo to the broken stylus, Remus carefully slid the vinyl out of its dusty, worn sleeve and placed it on the turntable, moving the stylus to the outer grooves. After a few soft crackles, music started up and flowed out of the old speakers…’when I kissed the teacher…’
Remus smirked, blushing as memories from valentine’s day last year when he was a professor at Hogwarts surfaced. In all the times in his life when he’d imagined teaching, being the student crush was never something he’d imagined, and it had been quite embarrassing to receive an assortment of red and pink cards at the teachers table at breakfast. McGonagall had given him an amused smile, Flitwick had chuckled, and of course Snape had given him his best sneer as he’d sat there blushing pink as the heart shaped decorations the house elves had put up in the great hall. He’d been flattered really, but then he’d been reminded of valentine’s when the marauders were still at Hogwarts and…well…those memories were too hard to bear.
“What are you blushing at?” an amused voice started from the lounge as if reading Remus’ thoughts.
Remus heart skipped a beat both at being shocked out of his thoughts and at the genuine, honest to godric smirk playing on Sirius lips as he sat on the lounge, blanket scrunched up on his lap and hair in disarray from his long nap. His blush deepened and he smiled sheepishly as the lyrics continued…’they had never seen the teacher blush…taken by surprise when I kissed the teacher…’
“I…” Remus started but didn’t know how to explain and honestly how could he form words when the Sirius who’d barely looked at him the past few days was now full-on grinning at his flustered state. Trying to gain his composure, he huffed an amused, embarrassed laugh, averting his eyes from the man before him. “I was just reminded of um…of receiving a number of valentines at Hogwarts last year, it seems, um,” if he blushed any more he was going to turn into a tomato, “well I was quite popular with some of the students,” he hurriedly finished, looked up for Sirius’ reaction.
For a fraction of a moment Remus could have sworn Sirius’ eyes flickered in what could possibly be annoyance, but in the next second he barked out a short mirthful laugh that was so like the old Sirius, if a little rougher, that Remus couldn’t help the way his traitorous muscles worked themselves into a grin. “Of course you were,” Sirius said, his tone…fond? Remus heart was beating erratically at the liveliness that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in Sirius. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from the sincere smile on his face. Sirius stared back.
The last lines ‘when I kissed the teacheeer…’ played and fizzled out and Remus remembered the tea and sandwich he’d made for Sirius earlier. He cleared his throat and gestured to where they sat on the coffee table.
“You’re probably hungry. It’s late afternoon now, you slept for a couple hours there.”
Sirius just smiled in thanks and brought the mug up to his lips, still watching Remus with that look Remus couldn’t quite decipher. He cursed the universe for what it did to them that he couldn’t even read Sirius anymore. The constant feel of Sirius eyes on him was doing things to Remus and he almost wished Sirius would go back to avoiding his eyes if only to keep his composure…almost.
Then the opening tunes of Dancing Queen started up and Sirius eyes flicked to the record player, his face lit up, his head tilted to the side in a way more characteristic of Padfoot. The unconscious, soft smile Remus had been wearing widened back into a grin. Sirius gave him a questioning look, “But you hate ABBA”.
“But you don’t.”
Sirius looked called out.
“Don’t try and tell me you never did. I know you groaned along with me whenever anyone put it on, but you were always one of the first to get up and dance and sing along. I saw through your punk rock persona even if few else did,” Remus teased, playfully narrowing his eyes and grinning at Sirius’ mock affront. He scoffed but Remus saw his foot tapping to the beat on the floor, his eyes continuously drawn back to the record playing on the sideboard. Grin widening, Remus huffed, extending his hand, “C’mon.”
Sirius eyes flew to his, and then to his outstretched hand, wariness returned for a second. But when Remus didn’t retract his hand, merely smiled in encouragement, he smiled again and put down his mug, skirting around the furniture until he was standing in front of Remus. He stood for a second looking from Remus to his hand and back again.
“Yooou can dance,” Remus sung, gesturing with his hand for Sirius to take it.
“Yoouu can jive,” Sirius sung with a shy laugh as he took Remus’ hand.
Remus pulled him in, placing his other hand on the shorter man’s too thin waist and rocking them not at all in time with the music, “haaving the time of your liiiife”.
“Oooh,” they both sang, grinning at each other like maniacs.
They sang and danced until the song finished, rocking out of time. Occasionally Remus would twirl Sirius just to provoke another laugh from the man’s mouth. When the song finished, they were both a little breathless, staring into each other’s eyes again, smiling softly.
Remus was trying to gather up all his self-control to take a step away out of Sirius’ arms, knowing full well it was not a good idea for him to be this close to the other man’s ethereal eyes and his laughter flushed face and his soft, smiling lips. But then Sirius captured him in a tight hug and relief of two kinds flooded Remus as he melted into Sirius embrace, holding him tightly back, trying to convey a million things at once. His relief that Sirius wasn’t closing himself off anymore, that he was safe, and he would do his damndest to keep him safe, that he’d missed him oh so much, that– that he loved him…still.
They held each other for a few quiet moments, relishing in each other’s warmth and the feel of another’s body, chests rising and falling with still slightly uneven breathing in a way that Remus wasn’t sure he could take much longer – until the loud grumbling of Sirius stomach interrupted. Remus chuckled softly as they pulled away from each other and Sirius smiled sheepishly.
“Eat,” Remus gestured toward the sandwich from before and retreated to the kitchen to make more tea.
***
Later that night Remus was tossing and turning in bed again. He was pretty certain it was still due to the man currently in the room across the hall. But he was also pretty certain it was not fully out of worry for the man anymore. He couldn’t stop thinking of Sirius’ grin. His playful smirk and his barking laugh and his shy giggle as they’d teased and danced and sung together in the warmth of the living room only a few hours before. The feeling of his hand in his, his thin, soft waist under his hand. How good it felt to have Sirius’ body pressed against his when they’d cuddled on the lounge and again later as they’d hugged each other tight after dancing.
All of a sudden, in the events of one day, instead of being anxious over being in Sirius’ presence, Remus was aching for it. He couldn’t keep lying here when Sirius was only a few feet away. Staring at a stain on the ceiling Remus wrestled with his resolve until he heard the faint sound of a page turning in Sirius room and that was enough encouragement. If Sirius was awake too then they could be awake together.
Throwing the covers off himself he hastily chucked one of his many sweaters over his pyjama shorts and padded across the hall. He stopped briefly outside Sirius room – his old room – and listened for sounds on the other side of the door. He heard the rustle of pages and a small, amused chuckle. With a swift knock, he opened the door without waiting for a reply.
The room was lit dimly by a lamp in the corner and Sirius was sat on the edge of the bed, the warn green patchwork quilt the same one from Remus childhood. He blushed with a guilty look which confused Remus at first until he saw what Sirius had spread out around him. Remus recognised an assortment of worn journals from his teen years which he’d kept a sort of diary in. He’d never done it with any sort of regularity, but he remembered using them when his thoughts got too muddled or full in his head and he would word vomit onto the pages. Or other times when he was feeling creative, he might write a few lines of poetry, or copy down some favourite quotes from a book he’d read.
Now it was his turn to blush.
“Sorry, I– ” Sirius began hurriedly, but Remus cut him off.
“It’s okay,” he huffed a laugh, “there’s nothing in here from after Hogwarts anyway,” he explained, looking around the summertime domain of his teen self. Observing the familiarity of book filled shelves, a crate or two of vinyls and an old crooked desk crammed with scraps of parchment and old quills, a ballpoint or two scattered among the ruckus.
Sirius looked at him as if unsure why that was the reason it was okay but didn’t press it. He looked back down at the journal he was holding and smiled a sly grin. That got Remus’ attention and he suddenly recognised the worn red leather cover in Sirius’ hands.
“Oooh no...” he groaned in embarrassment and hid his face in his hands, sneaking a peek through his fingers so he could garner Sirius reaction. The other man grinned up at him mischievously, holding Remus journal from 5th year – a journal that had been an outlet for Remus’ intense pining after the other boy.
“You had quite the way with words Moony,” he smirked playfully.
This was only met with more dramatic groans of embarrassment as Remus sank on to a chair by the small desk across from where Sirius sat on the bed. Sirius cackled.
“I really can’t choose what’s my favourite part: being called an Adonis, having soppy poems written about my pretty blue eyes, or having the details of my sweaty post-quidditch state described in such precise and frankly rather lusty prose.”
Remus cringed and tipped his head back, looking anywhere but at Sirius who he could feel grinning like the cocky prick he was. Gosh that felt good though – the old Sirius burning bright through the cloud the dementors left behind, cackling and teasing and bursting with mischief. It was almost worth the embarrassment.
“I was just as smitten over you Moony, I just didn’t have your creative talent,” Sirius said softer now, his voice still tinged with amusement but also a hint of uncertainty.
Okay so maybe that was worth the embarrassment. Remus looked at him abruptly. The pure earnestness in Sirius eyes took him right back to that cool autumn afternoon in 7th year when Sirius had told him he loved him.
They’d been sitting together on the astronomy tower having skipped out on dinner to watch the sunset, seizing the time alone where they could, living in a castle full of students. They’d been together since the summer between 5th and 6th – staying at the Potter’s, one night James had pulled out a stolen bottle of firewhisky, the marauders got drunk on it and before long Prongs and Wormtail were passed out on the floor of James bedroom. Remus, drunkenly humming along to a Bowie record, had been trying to keep his eyes away from Sirius pretty, flushed face when the other boy crawled over and snogged him hard on the mouth. In his drunken state Remus had had no self-control (when did he ever really when it came to this boy) and they had drunkenly made out on James’s bed, waking up in the morning wrapped around each other. That cool afternoon more than a year later, Remus had felt Sirius eyes on him as he soaked in the last sunrays on his scarred skin. Then he’d felt Sirius hand on his cheek, turning his face towards him. Then he’d felt his heart jumping erratically in his chest as his breath hitched hearing the words from Sirius mouth. Then he’d kissed him.
Now, Remus looks into that earnest gaze, those piercing eyes and the wrinkles and hollow cheeks which mark the changes time and prison, and sorrow and tragedy have wrought on Sirius. He’s still so beautiful and Remus breath hitches again. “I’m so in love with you still,” he whispers breathlessly, not even thinking of the consequences.
Sirius gasps in a shocked breath while Remus holds his. But then he’s rushing forward off the bed and Remus meets him halfway, cradling his damnably precious head in two scarred hands and kissing his perfect lips. Sirius clutches at Remus’ jumper and kisses him back just as tenderly. Remus feels the damp of tears on his hands and pulls back just enough to look into Sirius face, resting their foreheads together as their breath intermingles and they just stare into each other’s eyes – cool steel grey meeting warm amber hues – faces wrought with emotion.
“I love you too,” Sirius breathes, again with that earnest look.
Remus grins breathlessly as they clutch at each other.
***
After a few moments Sirius drags him over to the bed and they bundle down under the covers, curling into each other and holding tight, again just staring into each other’s eyes. They’re smiling at each other now. Soft smiles filled with adoration.
Moments pass and Sirius face drops and the furrow appears between his brows again. Remus reaches out and smoothens it out with his thumb, “What’s wrong?”
Sirius hesitates, “What about…everything?”
“Everything?”
“What…I did. What we both thought of each other?”
Remus hesitated. He had put thought to all of that. He’d had plenty of time to think over it in the year since he found out Sirius’ innocence. He knew how he felt. But he wanted his words to be right. “I don’t think it matters.”
“You don’t?” Sirius asked sceptically.
“Well… no, okay it does matter. What I mean is, I don’t think we should let the past get in the way of now.”
When Sirius waited for further explanation Remus continued. “I…we didn’t trust each other then. We didn’t tell each other things. But we know that was a mistake now. We’ve both suffered for it,” Sirius clutched Remus tighter, “and…well there’s another war coming, what good’s it going to do to hold onto that?”
“So…we just put it behind us?”
“Yeah. It all hurts, but if we’re better moving forward, we take care of each other and trust each other and tell each other everything…I think it’s better that we leave it all behind.”
“Okay Moony,” Sirius breathed.
Remus smiled, a small thrill jolting through him at the use of his old nickname in Sirius’ low, tender voice. “Okay Padfoot, love,” he returned.
Sirius smiled back and sweetly pressed a tender kiss to Remus collarbone peeking out from his sweater. They fell asleep to the soft sounds of each other’s breathing and the warmth and comfort of each other’s arms. They both slept in the next morning.