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Summary
Summer 1995: they’d moved to Grimmauld Place some days later, and Remus hadn’t really considered why he’d gone too, packing up the records and the few clothes he owned; small pockets of a life.
It would be easy to say it was for the Order, for the proximity to them and their fight. It was harder to say, more truthfully, that it was for Sirius, as if he were following, dazed, unable to do much else.
OR
oops I discovered a plethora of untapped feelings for an older, world-weary wolfstar so I'm making it ao3's problem
