Archive of Our Own

During.

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

Sirius watches Remus closely. Too closely, he tries to reason with himself, for the other man not to notice. To not be suspicious.

That never stops him.

Right now they find themselves standing in the kitchen of their shared flat, a plate of pasta in each hand. Sirius reckons that neither of them have sat down so that they have an easy out. A quick ‘I have somewhere to be’ before they’re gone, out of the stifling flat that Sirius is sure still resembles the only place he’s ever considered home. He watches as Remus slowly picks through his pasta, his own hand absentmindedly twirling a fork around his plate. He doesn’t want to leave this moment, be out of Remus’ sight, because only when he’s staring him down does every doubt in his mind begin to feel like the war fuelled mania it probably is.

And yet, he will not sit down. It feels like a lie. As if he’s pretending to be the loving boyfriend who cooks pasta on Mondays and not the cruel lover soldier who goes out into the city everyday to fight a war he does not want to belong in.

“The pastas good, Sirius. Thanks,” Remus offers into the silence, and Sirius looks away from his hands, up towards his face. The moonlight is shining in from the small window at Remus’ back, and it makes a small scar on his shoulder glow. A scar that Sirius has never seen before. His hands tighten around his bowl, still full. His feet still unmoved.

“That scar is new,” Sirius responds, his arm reaching out and barely brushing against it. He feels Remus tense beneath him, and the anger starts to bubble over.

“You’ve memorized every one, have you?” Remus asks, and Sirius can’t help but notice the dark smudges under his eyes, the way his whole body seems to be held up by nothing but the counter. Sirius wants nothing more than to smooth it all away.

“Yes, actually. Like how the one on your palm happened January of 4th year, when Prongs’ antler accidentally scratched your hand; and the one across your nose the August before fifth year, because we couldn’t be there for the moon; the one on your left hip-“

“Okay, fuck! You win, it’s new.”

“How’d it happen?” Sirius tries to make his voice sound casual, tries not to betray that every alarm bell in his brain is ringing because Remus wasn’t here for the last moon and the werewolves are all joining Voldemort because he’s offering them more so why-

Remus shrugs. Interrupts Sirius’ train of thought. “Order mission. Messed with the wrong person.”

“Wrong wolf,” Sirius corrects, eyes still trained on the scar.

Remus is suddenly standing upright, pasta plate abandoned on counter, eyes narrowing dangerously. “What’s that supposed to mean, Padfoot?”

Sirius hesitates, torn between taking a step forward and back. “It’s a silver scar, only wolves can do that. Your last few missions have also been decidedly secret, and you spent the last moon on one. No other explanation.”

He watched Remus swallow once. Twice. “You know I can’t talk about my missions, Sirius.”

Sirius runs a hand through his own hair in frustration. “No, you can’t. You can’t talk about where you’re going or who you’re seeing or whose side they’re on-“ he snaps his mouth shut. There it is, the line he always toes in these conversations, the one he always crosses. One day Remus will not forgive him for it.

Remus looks unsteadied. “Whose side? What? You know better than me that most of the Orders missions are about trying to get in with the Death Eaters. You can’t do that talking to other Order members.”

“As if that’s bloody working! They’ve got a perfectly fine spy screwing us over while their side can sniff out a stakeout in minutes!”

“What’s that got to do with me, then?” Remus’ voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he watches Sirius more closely.

Sirius freezes, because he can’t say it, can he? He can’t accuse his Moony of being something as drastic as the Spy because what does that say about him? That he willingly shares a bed with a traitor? That he doesn’t even think he’d stop if it were true? Because truthfully, all he does everyday is stare at Remus’ lips and think about spilling his secrets into every kiss against them. Peters the secret keeper. I don’t trust you. I don’t think you trust me.

“Sirius,” Remus says, and this time it is a warning.

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Sirius mumbles, trying his best to push back against the line. To draw a new one somewhere far, far away.

“Oh for fucks sake! Am I expected to stand here and believe that?!”

“Voldemorts offering up a better life for your lot than the Order ever has!” Sirius blurts out. He feels like he’s thrown up his insides and is now waiting for Remus to sift through them, locate his heart, and crush it with Sirius’ steel toed boots that he always steals.

He waits for the explosion. For Remus to storm out. For the agonizing wait until he returns, because he always does, and this time won’t be different, it can’t be different, there’s nothing left to fight for but this is their flat and Godric damn it-

“Do you want to know something, darling?” Remus asks, eyes boring into Sirius’, voice eerily calm. The endearment currently feels like a poisoned knife in Sirius’ chest, leaking onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. He realizes with a start that it’s simply the faucet running. When Sirius doesn’t answer the question, Remus soldiers on anyways. “The only people from ‘my lot’ that Voldemort has recruited are the ones who don’t have reason to give a damn either way.

“Do you know what the Order has for me that he doesn’t? You. James. Lily and Harry. Peter. Mary. People I love. The Order is also on the side of not murdering innocents, which happens to be quite a lovely bonus in the current climate.”

“I-“ Sirius tries really, to find the words. To explain to Remus that the fact that he loves him and that Sirius loves him back is exactly the problem because when has anyone that Sirius loved ever come out okay? Without a belly full of regrets? “Remus I don’t- you have to understand-“

“Understand what, Padfoot? That you thought I was a traitor? That’s what this is, no? You thought I was the spy.”

Sirius fights off the words, but he still nods, shakily, willing no tears to fall because this is not the time not the time not the time.

Remus looks crushed in a way that Sirius is starting to realize only he ever seems to incite. Like his world is being ripped from him by the same person who was supposed to build it up. Like Sirius’ heart was actually Remus’ and now it’s lying in an awful puddle on the ground with nothing left to fix it with.

“But you have to understand, I know you aren’t. Whatever that means to you, I trust you, and I never believed otherwise. Not fully. Never completely. You mean everything to me. I’m just a complete wanker, yeah?”

Remus doesn’t say anything. He lets the tears fall, and Sirius aches to reach out, but he’s already turning away.

“You have a stakeout in an hour, Black. Don’t want to be late.”

“Re-“

“You know how Dumbledore gets about these things. You should really get going.”

“Remus I don’t care about Dumbledore! I care about you!“

“Well you‘re doing a bloody awful job of showing it! At least following Dumbledore will win us this god forsaken war.”

“I don’t know that it will.”

Remus almost looks up at that. Sirius sees it in the twitch of his neck and the grip of his hands. But he simply shakes it off. “Goodbye, Sirius.”

“I’ll see you later,” Sirius responds, the aching feeling in his chest not allowing for the word goodbye. Not today. Remus starts to make his way towards the bedroom door without a word.

“See you later,” Sirius repeats more firmly, and he’s glad that Remus’ hand has frozen on the door. He doesn’t care how selfish that makes him.

“Why does it matter?”

“Re, please.“

“I’ll be here, Padfoot, because I have nowhere else to go,” and with that he’s gone. Inside their room.

The door doesn’t slam. Sirius finds himself wishing that it did.

*

After.

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

Sirius sits on a bench in a park somewhere in London, blowing into his hands to fight the persisting chill. He can hear Remus’ voice in his head telling him to bring his gloves, but Remus has his back to him as he gets them hot chocolate, and Sirius’ bright blue nails are on display, so he thinks he wins here.

When Remus starts to walk back, Sirius determinedly puts his hands on his lap and very casually stares at the light dusting of snow on the ground.

“Hi,” Remus says, and Sirius looks up, trying to smile through his numb mouth. Remus’ eyes widen for a second before he’s leaning down without warning, kissing the tip of Sirius’ nose, and then both of his cheeks. The heat from Remus’ hot chocolate-warmed mouth makes Sirius squirm, and he bats Remus away, telling him to sit down.

“What was that about?!” Adding quickly, “Not that I’m complaining.”

Remus eyes him with a smile. “I don’t think I tell you enough how adorable you look in the cold. Your nose is the cutest shade of red right now.”

“Moony-“ Sirius whines, already feeling the heat in his cheeks increasing. “I’m not adorable I’m a grown man who is very-“

“Punk rock.” Remus finishes for him, leaning in again. “I know that, pretty boy,” and then his lips brush his before pulling back, seemingly delighting in Sirius’ wide eyed expression.

He can’t really think of anything to say in reply, his brain having turned to mush and other dumb love cliches, so he just mumbles something about not being teenagers anymore before looking up at Remus when he put an arm around him.

Sirius freezes in place when he sees Remus’ eyes. The sun had broken through the clouds just so it could shine into them, of that Sirius is sure. They are the most delicate shade of green, filled with small sparkles of gold that infrequently shine through. James and him have shared their full of ‘exact same taste in people’ jokes, but he really could never look away. He never wants to. Having seen Remus once means that anything else will never compare, and it doesn’t have to. Because they are here, alive, and Sirius can stare for eternity if it pleases him to. (And it does please him to. It really, really, does.)

“You’re quite the stunner yourself, Re,” Sirius finally says, because summarizing it all is an impossible task.

Remus chokes on his hot chocolate, coughing incessantly as a few people walking by turn towards him in concern. He gives them a weak thumbs up while Sirius slaps him on the back, always a little glad when he can make Remus flush just as much in return.

“Yeah?” Is all he says when he’s recovered.

Sirius nods. “It’s true. I was talking to James about it the other day, and he was all like, ‘Y’know Pads, I would’ve swooped in on Remus myself if you hadn’t’ which, obviously, but he can’t say that out loud, y’know?” Sirius pauses, smiling as Remus stares down at his hot chocolate, avoiding eye contact. “So I go to Lily, telling her all about it, and she just tells me that James never would’ve gotten to you because she would’ve first. I mean, hello, I’m right here?” Sirius is now holding back a laugh as Remus is properly smiling now, cheeks going redder and redder as Sirius goes on. “So, all this to say that I absolutely can not discuss you in their presence anymore, simply for the sake of their marriage.”

That startles a proper laugh from Remus, who looks at Sirius with a mixture of fondness and confusion. “Can I ask why you were discussing my looks with James anyways?”

Sirius laughs too. “Well Moons, all me and James can think about half the time is you and Lils. It’s understandable, really, because we see no reason to think about anything else.”

Remus sighs deeply, but his arm around him tightens anyways, and Sirius sees the smile he’s trying to hide. “What are Lily and I going to do with you two?” He asks no one in particular, and Sirius feels the biggest grin overtake his face.

He lives for moments like these, where the light at the end of the war filled tunnel and life he’s lived finally shines through. He’s twenty-two now, and even though he saw fractures of this future when he first came to Hogwarts, their later years were marred by the war, by what’s going to happen and what will we do and how can we help. Sirius has spent most of his life in a suspended state of unease, but looking at Remus now, his face bright and hand running through Sirius’ hair, he feels the barrier break. Loving Remus has been his little bit of daylight since he was sixteen, and the brightness has only grown and grown since they’ve had the chance to cherish it.

He decides to answer Remus’ question.“You’re going to use us for our brilliant cooking, obviously.”

Remus pretends to ponder this. “Hmm. Yes, I think we will. You do make decent pasta.”

Sirius feigns shock as he slaps Remus’ arm. “Decent?! I’ll have you know that James once called my pasta ‘Gluten of the heavens’. It’s the highest compliment I’ve ever received.” His brain involuntarily releases a memory at this, an argument in a kitchen while clutching a bowl full of pasta like it held his last semblance of sanity. It doesn’t scare him the way it used to, however, because they’re here, still. Remus is still his and he is still Remus’ and after everything that’s happened, as he sits here and watches Remus hold back another laugh and pull him even closer, he can’t ask for much more.

*

During.

Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky

And so I became the butt of the joke

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke

Sirius stares at the paper in his hand. He reads the headline over and over until it bores a hole into his brain.

Orion Black, beloved patriarch of the esteemed Black family, has died.

Died. Dead. Died dead.

He reads the small blurb under it.

A year after his only son mysteriously died, Orion Black has passed away following a years long battle with an unspecified illness. He is survived by his wife, Walpurga.

Only son. Only. One. Survived by his wife. Wife. Mother. We’re the only ones left, mother.

Sirius tries to remember what it’s like to breathe, tries so hard not to cry because he didn’t love his dad. Not the way he loved his brother. The pain he feels now is nothing like when Regulus died, because it can’t be. This is a pain created from guilt for the relief he seems to feel. His father would stand there and watch as Sirius’ mother screamed and shot curses from her mouth and wand until he grew weary of the sight and coaxed her to stop. It was never because Sirius was crying on the floor, too in pain to move; but only so that he could sit in the living room with a cup of tea, listening to the hum of the house instead of the screams of his child. Your mother does what is best for you, he always said.

Sirius’ mother always told him that he was lucky to be her son. It is his earliest memory of her. All the families in the wizarding world, she would say, and you are a Black. She said Black the way you might address the Queen, as if Sirius should gasp and fall to his knees in gratitude of the cards he had been dealt. He never could bring himself to feel it. Not the way Regulus could.

At some point Sirius stopped trying to. He gave into every impulse, set the dinner table on fire during important gatherings and put shield charms on his door while his mother shrieked on the other side. He became the Black sheep, if you will, and payed for it dearly. Every joke and curse was at his expense, or just at him. He found solace with Andromeda until she was gone, too, and then he realized that if he didn’t leave soon, he never would.

Six years later, and only him and his mother remain. His breathing still hasn’t evened out. Every impulse comes back to him, and Remus isn’t here, now, to save him from them.

Werewolves, he had said before walking out the door. It still hadn’t slammed, and Sirius still wanted it to.

Sirius feels like his legs are being cramped, like he has to stretch stretch stretch them but nothing is enough. The world seems to be swimming by and for the first time Sirius wants to be gone from the flat. To not have to look at it and everything it represents.

He stumbles out the door, down the flight of stairs in a haze, and so it takes him a long minute to acknowledge the person at his door, frozen mid knock.

They stare at him, mouth hung open and not a word coming out.

“Mary,” Sirius finally says, her figure coming into focus. Her curly hair is tied back, and she wears a simple black top and pants, perfect for cover in the darkness.

“Sirius,” she responds, hands wringing together.

Sirius hasn’t seen her since Marlene, nothing more than the occasional letter half-jokingly asking if he’s still alive. She’s given up the Wizarding World and while Sirius can’t blame her, it also means that he can’t think of any reason she’d be here.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Sirius says, hoping his smile doesn’t look as bitter as it feels.

Mary opens her mouth, and Sirius expects a wide array of answers, maybe about the Order, a ‘just checking in’, or anything he can brush off and keep running from. He doesn’t have the words for what comes next.

“Peter is the spy.”

Sirius, who hasn’t moved since he first saw Mary, freezes fractionally more. He feels his pulse quicken as he tries not to snap, to break. He can’t afford to.

“Mary, there’s no way-“

“NO!” She yells. “I don’t want to fucking hear it Sirius! Whatever bullshit reason you have to trust Peter isn’t enough because I know. Marlene knew too. That’s why he killed her. She had it all figured out after one of her stakeouts but he already knew she’d be there. Almost a shame she made it back home because that meant her family couldn’t survive, either. She had it all written out in a letter to me. I just got it.”

Mary is breathless when she finishes, and Sirius has no words for her because the only ones blaring in his head are Peter is the secret keeper Peter is the secret keeper Peter is the secret keeper and at some point he must say it out loud because now Mary is shaking and shaking him.

“SIRIUS. If Peter is the secret keeper we have to go to James and Lily. Now.”

Sirius still isn’t ready to believe her. His Best Friend. That’s what Peter is. Brother. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. But James…

“We’ll go to James and Lily,” Sirius finally finds his voice. “But we’re not saying anything. Just to make sure they’re alright.”

Mary doesn’t react, simply grabbing Sirius’ arm as she waits for him to apparate.

Sirius complies quickly and they land in the middle of Godrics Hollow, steps away from the Potters hideout.

Mary frowns as she looks around, unable to see the house, with only the Marauders and Dumbledore being privy to the location. “Are they close?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get you through because of the charm. Just. Wait here, alright?”

Mary gives a decisive nod, her eyes already scanning the surrounding buildings. Sirius starts to walk towards the house, hands still shaking because his father- no- Orion- is still dead. He’s almost glad it’s James he’s going to because he’ll know what to say. He always does.

His soft knock is met by the slightest opening of the door, with James holding a half carved pumpkin in his hand.

“Padfoot? I- Uh-“ James moves to let him in before freezing, pulling out his wand and holding it out. “Sorry, have to ask. Er, how did I find out about you and Remus?”

Sirius almost laughs at the question, at the bitter irony of James not having the slightest clue about how Remus and him are currently doing. Still, he clears his throat. “Caught us holding hands under the table in the Great Hall,” he answers, a small smile involuntarily playing at his lips.

“Yeah yeah. Sappy git,” James grins. “C’mon in. We’re carving pumpkins to celebrate Harry’s first proper Halloween.”

Sirius just stands at the threshold, blinking rapidly because Halloween? Today is Halloween? And then a dam somewhere in him breaks and he’s laughing, feeling James’ worried eyes on him.

“Makes so much sense doesn’t it?” He manages between gasps of laughter. “My old man kicks the bucket on the day of ghosts and creepy shit. So bloody fitting.”

James’ eyes widen suddenly. “You’re… shit Padfoot. Orion. Look, just, come in will you? We can talk. Lily gets worried if I stand near the door for too long.”

Sirius shakes his head, the itching feeling to run creeping back up his spine, subduing his laugh. “No, no. I’m just, here to check on you is all. ‘M fine. Mary was worried.”

James’ frown only seems to deepen. “Mary? We haven’t heard from her in ages. Is she alright? Why’s she worried? What’s going on, Padfoot?”

The sudden barrage of questions only serves to spark Sirius’ short fuse. “I DON’T KNOW. She just shows up to our flat ranting about Pete being the spy and demanding I check on you lot and I didn’t even screen her so I reckon it’s all some big trap and we’re all doomed and-“

“SIRIUS!” Marys booming voice comes from somewhere behind him. “I think it’s about time you tell them what’s going on because a rat is coming our way.”

James finally jumps into action. “You better explain what you mean by ‘Pete is the spy’ NOW, and maybe think to include why Mary is talking about a rat.”

Sirius takes shallow breaths, unsure how he’s meant to be the calm one because that’s James. It’s always been James. “Look James. I know you would never ever distrust one of us. The height of dishonour to doubt one of your friends and what not. But… I trust Mary. And I trusted Marlene. So just to be safe, I think we should go.”

James eyes him with tired eyes, the marks of the war etched onto his too young face. Sirius always thinks he’s asked too much of him, but this is the first time he feels that James might agree. “I’ll grab Lils and Harry,” he says quietly, before he’s gone, walking down the hallway into the living room.

Sirius almost cries in relief when the three of them walk to the door, a weary Lily giving him a crushing one armed hug while Harry sits snug in the other.

He’s so caught up in the reunion that he forgets Mary’s warning. There’s the sound of a crash. A scream.

“Hurry the fuck up Sirius!” And then he’s running. He goes out onto the street to see a rat jumping from every one of Marys spells, and the blood drains from his face, seems to drain from his body as he recognizes the markings on it, because he would know them anywhere.

“Wormtail!” Sirius screams, though he does not know what he’ll do if he gets an answer. His mind is a broken record player and all it is saying is Remus. Remus. Remus. He has never needed him so desperately and the apologies and explanations lay dormant on his tongue as he watches Peter transform, sweat caking his face and a sharp look in his eyes that Sirius has never seen.

He vaguely registers a patronus fly past, the shape indiscernible but its destination seemingly clear. Dumbledore will have to learn about this.

A hand on his shoulder shoves him down, and the spell shooting in his direction instead flies overhead, crackling in the sky.

James is franticly whispering beside him. “It can’t- he can’t be- Sirius-“

Siris grits his teeth. “I know.” But Peters wand is still out, and now Mary is duelling him 1v1, Lily and Harry protected behind a shield. “But we can’t take any chances James. Not with this.”

He feels James’ grip on his shoulder tighten, and then it’s gone, running towards the shield.

Sirius jumps into action, blocking a spell aimed at Mary.

“Nice of you to join us,” Mary calls out, sending out a jelly legs jinx that causes Peter to collapse onto the floor.

“Couldn’t miss a duel with our Wormtail, now could I?” Sirius asks, all manner of contempt dripping into his voice.

“Always the bloody jokester, eh?” Peters seething voice comes, and Sirius almost jumps at how sharp it is.

“Peter-“ he hears James start to say.

“He’ll be here soon, you know that? The Dark Lord knows exactly where you are. He won’t let you leave here alive.”

Anger. Sirius always felt like it was his default emotion. Everything else took work. To feel happy, calm, composed was an effort of every atom holding him up. His anger has always felt justified, too, because more often than not it was directed at his family. Well, well deserved.

It is for that reason that Sirius’ brain doesn’t scream danger when he launches himself at Peter. Only revenge. His knuckles connect satisfyingly with the crunch of a nose, and it feels so good he doesn’t even notice that his fist is bleeding. He also doesn’t notice the shield charm in front of him until it’s throwing him backwards as a sudden blue strike collides with it.

“You alright, Pads?” A voice asks from above, and it is so familiar Sirius nearly jolts up, only stopped by a searing pain in his leg. A warm hand guides him to stand, and Sirius opens his eyes to see Remus (Moony Moony Moony) giving him a gentle and concerned look. A quick glance forward shows Peter otherwise occupied with Mary.

“M’fine. How did you…?“

“Mary,” Remus says with a wry smile. “Sent me a message with strict instructions to come straight here, without alerting anyone else. I didn’t want to believe her but…” He looks towards Peter, a pained expression flashing across his face.

It clicked for Sirius. The patronus he had thought bound for Dumbledore. “I’m glad she thought of you,” he says, and means it so fully he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling.

Remus has the audacity to look surprised. “Really?”

Sirius takes a second morph his face so it looks utterly offended. “In what universe am I going to be anything but happy to see my boyfriend?!”

Remus purses his lips. “Fair enough,” he says in reply as he gestures towards Mary, and now James, holding up a shield. “Shall we join in?”

Sirius nods once, trying his best to not stumble when he puts pressure on his leg. He knows Remus notices, but he doesn’t give him a chance to say a thing before he’s shooting curses in Peters direction, hurling out any insult that comes to mind. His hand is decidedly throbbing as well, and in his pained state he takes a second to notice Lily and Harry are nowhere to be found.

“James-“

“They’re safe,” James calls out before Sirius has even finished, giving Remus’ shoulder a squeeze of acknowledgement as he blocks a curse. Sirius divides his attention between shooting hexes and doing his best to not pass out from the pain radiating in his body.

Peters nose has stopped bleeding, and someone seems to have put a silencing charm on him, because the (presumably) vile words coming from his mouth are nothing but air.

“WHY, PETE?” James’ voice is sudden in the charged air, and Sirius almost snaps his neck turning to look at him. “Why’d you do it? We would have done anything to help you. You know that.”

Sirius doesn’t think Peter will answer. He stands there so long a lull falls over the battle, everyone unsure if the battle is still going.

“You can’t protect me from the Dark Lord, James. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Sirius instinctively takes a step towards James. While usually it’s James who has to hold Sirius back, to stop him from turning their generally harmless pranks into all out duels, right now Sirius can see the tremors in his body.

“YOU BASTARD- YOU-“ but Sirius doesn’t get to hear the end of that sentence. Not even much later, when he asks James about it, and all he gets is a shake of the head.

No one takes Peters betrayal harder than him.

Right now, however, there is an explosion. It seems to hit Sirius in his very core, sending him flying across the road. The ground is unforgiving, turning his leg from probably to definitely broken. There are screams and shouts. Smoke is everywhere when he tries to open his eyes, but above all else there is a searing, high pitched voice in his head. I am here for Harry Potter. Give me the boy, and no one else will die.

Adrenaline courses through him, and Sirius stands up, struggling against the pain and trying to take stock of his surroundings. James, Remus, and Mary are all in a similar state to him. Peter, predictably, is nowhere to be seen. He zeroes in, however, on what is left of James and Lily’s cottage. The figure standing there sends an involuntary chill down his spine. He has come face to face with Voldemort only once in his life, and Remus and him still can not talk about the encounter.

“Where is Harry Potter?” The figure asks again, and Sirius freezes when he hears Lily’s voice.

“You aren’t going to get near him.” Her voice is strong, but Sirius knows Lily, knows that the hand holding Harry is shaking.

He sees her walk out from behind one of the houses nearby, up the road, sees James’ hand tighten around his wand.

It all happens in a flash, really. Sirius sees Remus running, and it’s too late before he realizes that he is running towards Lily. Mary follows suit. Voldemorts wand goes up and Sirius turns to apparate anywhere in front of them but the air sparks in protest. Anti apparition spell. Fuck.

He can’t run. He tries, but one step sends a pain so sharp through him that he falls again. He doesn’t know any bone mending spells, can’t think of a single healing one through the pain, so he’s forced to watch as James runs, then jumps, practically flying in the face of whatever spell Voldemort has thrown. Sirius cries out before there is a flash of light so blinding he looses sight of everything and everyone. All the sound in the air seems to dissipate, replaced with a faint ringing that makes Sirius’ teeth clench. His mind is a constant bombardent of Remus James Lily Harry because they have to be okay they have to have to-

“SIRIUS!” Sirius jumps at the panic laced voice of Remus, sounding so faraway. He tried to shut his eyes to it, because he can’t move. Can’t find where his own voice has gone to hide.

SIRIUS! Hey, I’m here,” Remus’ hand cups Sirius’ jaw and he opens his eyes, almost crying out in relief. He lets himself sink into Remus’ embrace for only a moment before everything comes crashing back to him.

“James-“ Sirius shouts. “Lils-“

“They’re fine, Pads. I promise. Harry- he has a scar of some sort, but Voldemorts spell…”

“What, Re?”

“It bounced off of him. It was...well it was fucking terrifying. But it also felt like old magic. I’m not sure how to explain it, it’s just something werewolves can sense. Voldemort had stunned Lily, and James and I thought we were too late but- he’s okay. Harry’s okay, love.”

Sirius just grabs onto Remus’ arm harder. He looks towards the cottage, and then back at him.

Remus nodes grimly, helping Sirius to his feet, taking one look at his leg before pulling him under his shoulder.

They limp towards the house. James and Lily are already there, staring a point next to it.

James looks up, practically tackling Sirius to the ground in a hug. Sirius holds back just as hard. “We did it Pads,” he whispers, and Sirius doesn’t try to stop the tears from falling.

After they part Sirius keeps walking. He gives Lily and Mary a hug and kisses Harry on the head before limping into the wreckage of the cottage. He coughs against the smoke, sees smashed photos and toys and books and has to sit down, the many memories of this place running through his mind. He misses so deeply for times that we’re simpler, but as he watches the smoke rise, he’s glad, at least, to know that the people he loves are alive, just outside.

He hears familiar footsteps behind him, and smiles, a little terrified of what’s to come. Sirius looks up at Remus, stands up from the wreckage. He asks a question with his eyes and Remus answers it by pulling him into his chest, letting Sirius bury his face there.

“We’re okay,” Remus whispers, and Sirius swallows the words with his lips.

*

After.

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

It's brighter now, now

Sirius wakes when he hears the first cry from Remus’ lips.

It’s not surprising, necessarily. The end of the war signalled an era of recovery, yet nothing will ever be quite the same. Sirius still mutters protective charms over their shared flat. He looks over his shoulder for death eaters and jumps at every small noise. Most of all, though, he sees the war in his dreams. Every moment his eyes are open is a respite from them, and he knows it is the same for everyone. Sirius’ heart clenches even more when he hears his own name from Remus’ mouth, knowing that he is most likely reliving one of several moments where Sirius danced with death.

He shifts quietly, not wanting to wake Remus until he has an arm out in front of him. Then he shakes him, very slightly. “Remus,“ he whispers quietly. “Wake up, love.”

Remus squirms at the touch. “No no. You can’t take him. Anyone but him. No-“

Sirius shakes him a little firmer. “Moony.”

Remus gasps, eyes opening, the fog of the nightmare still in them. “You can’t-“ he whispers, grabbing Sirius’ arm. “You can’t you can’t-“

Sirius stays firm, gripping Remus’ shoulders until finally, finally, he stops fighting. Instead Remus falls forward, straight into Sirius’ arms.

“Shh. Are you alright love?” Sirius asks quietly, rubbing a hand up and down his back. It takes a few moments for Remus to answer.

“I’m fine,“ Remus mumbles, still not letting go. “I just. I wish I didn’t get them. I want to be okay now that the wars over, not seeing my missions every time I sleep.”

Sirius frowns. Missions. He had thought- “What mission, Moons? If it helps to talk about it.”

Remus gives Sirius an odd look, then goes to lie down again, gently pulling Sirius with him. He tucks his head over Sirius’ hair, not saying anything.

Eventually Sirius starts to drift off, assuming that Remus isn’t ready to talk, yet ready for whenever he is.

“It was the werewolves,” Remus finally whispers, and Sirius does his best not to flinch. Remus’ hand is gently carding through his hair, and Sirius tightens his hold, trying to ground him, to remind him he is safe. “The missions were always to befriend a pack. Stick around long enough to find out their allegiance. To know if they had already picked a side. Usually wasn’t great if it was the latter,” Remus let out a bitter laugh, and Sirius has to shove the bubbling anger down, the urge to rip Dumbledore to shreds because he had put the man he loved in danger for something that would not have changed the war. Not in any meaningful way.

“Sometimes though, and what I saw in the dream, they’d know about… you. About James and Lily, how human I was compared to them. Could smell the human from miles away. And…” Remus trails off, and Sirius shifts to see that his eyes are closed, an obviously painful memory playing on his face. Sirius waits, squeezing Remus’ hand under the covers.

Remus smiles at that, squeezes back. “And they hated it. Thought I had been corrupted, felt like they had ‘lost’ a werewolf to the wizards, so they would try and find things out about you guys. Even the ones who wanted to help couldn’t tell me if I was a suspect, because they needed the pack. I never realized it until it was too late, and then I was running from another pack because I was afraid. I was afraid they’d find you.” His voice broke and Sirius kisses him on his shoulder, as gently as he can.

“Dumbledore hated it. He wanted me to stay, get on the inside, spy for months. But I couldn’t do it, Sirius. I refused.” And now the break on his voice gives out, and he’s crying, really crying, and Sirius doesn’t think he’s seen the sight since Marlene- so he sits up, pulls Remus against his chest and feels the tears stick to his neck.

“I love you,” he says, because really, what else is there? “And thank you, Moons. For telling me. For trusting me.”

“Mm,” Remus responds, face still hidden in the crook of Sirius’ neck.

“Plus, I am a little glad that you hated the missions as much as I did.”

Remus laughs at that, bright and beautiful as always, and Sirius holds him even tighter.

“Hated them, did you?”

“I hated that you were gone. I hated not knowing where you were. And I really, really, hated fighting with you every time you left.”

“Where did you go?”

Sirius frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes- after I left for missions- I’d come back. I wanted- I don’t know-I guess I wanted to leave knowing we were okay. That you wanted me to come back. But you’d never be there.”

“Re- Of course I wanted you back.“ Sirius feels the ache of those nights come back to him. It’s almost unbearable. “I couldn’t stay in the flat with you gone. The second you’d leave I’d apparate to some random bar in the city, get pissed, then run to James’ place before they could toss me out. It was- well it was awful,” Sirius finished with a bitter laugh. He closes his eyes to the feeling, let’s out a few tears of his own.

He can’t help but smile when he feels Remus kissing them, so tenderly, and there is so much love in the gesture that Sirius doesn’t know what to do with it (except cry even more, of course.)

“Thank you for telling me,” Remus whispers, and Sirius finally opens his eyes. Remus’ eyes are the steadying force they have always been, so he allows them to ground him.

“Mm. I’m glad I finally have. Those last bits of the war are finally falling away.”

Remus gives him a tight smile. “Don’t think we’ll ever be fully rid of them, though.”

“No- but it’s more like we’re finally realizing it’s really over, y’know? We’ve thrown out our cloaks and daggers and now we can live in the peace, even if we don’t always feel it.”

Remus’ smile turns amused. “And at what point during the war were you walking around wearing a cloak? I don’t remember that from your auror training.”

Sirius splutters, “It was a metaphor! I didn’t actually mean cloaks!“

“That’s not what a metaphor is.”

“We were talking about the war Moons, why are you being a git about grammar-“

“Because I think I’ve talked about the war enough to last me a lifetime, and your cloaks have interested me. I’ve always wanted to see you in one,” now Remus’ smile is teasing, and Sirius feels the blush creeping in. The light framing the other man’s face gives him an out.

“Well seeing as the sun is now rising, you need to go back to sleep. James and Lils are bringing Harry in the afternoon, don’t forget.”

Remus scrunches his nose. “It’s too bright to sleep.”

Sirius let’s out his most exasperated sigh. He brings his hand to cover Remus’ eyes, ignoring his protests. “Sleep. Maybe you’ll even wake up to me in a cloak.”

“So you do own-“ Sirius kisses Remus, smiling in satisfaction when he freezes mid sentence.

“You’re worse than me sometimes, Re.”

But Remus is already falling asleep, his fingertips lightly brushing Sirius’ side. Sirius soaks it all in, tucking it away into the part of his brain titled ‘Sights he never thought he’d see again’, and lies down as well.

“Moony?”

“Yeah?” Remus answers, stifling a yawn, eyes still closed.

“You’re my favourite person.”

Sirius delights in Remus’ reaction, a fierce blush covering his freckled face as Sirius leans in to pepper his cheeks in small kisses.

Remus mumbles something incoherent, then opens his eyes, says “I love you,” and pulls Sirius under his chin.

“I love you too,” Sirius answers, and it is enough.

*

During.

And I can still see it all (In my mind)

All of you, all of me (Intertwined)

I once believed love would be (Black and white)

But it's golden (Golden)

And I can still see it all (In my head)

Back and forth from New York (Singing in your bed)

I once believed love would be (Burning red)

But it's golden

The war was over. Almost. Soon. It depended on who you asked, really. There were the wizards who were already celebrating its end, scoffing at the remaining Order members for worrying about such trivial things as death eaters on the loose. What power did they hold without their master? Sirius did not humour them with an answer.

He was finding satisfaction in picking off death eaters one by one, most especially the ones he shared blood with.

Bellatrix, locked away by his own hands, though not before she could get to Frank and Alice. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stomach what had happened to them.

Lucious, light sentence, but still there. Right now, he was inside Azkaban. That had to mean something.

Peter was someone he tried not to think about at all. A different auror had caught him, miraculous considering his animagus form, and now the remaining Marauders had decided to tip-toe the subject until they could bare to speak his name out loud.

But today, Sirius is thinking of none of it.

Today, Sirius is in his and Remus’ flat.

Today, he is making dinner, pasta sauce swirling around the pot, memories of the war swirling with it.

A strong pair of arms wraps around him suddenly, and Sirius jumps, before the familiar scent of Remus’ shampoo reaches his nose.

“Hi,” Remus says quietly, dropping a kiss to the top of Sirius’ head.

“Hi,” Sirius responds, reaching over to turn the stove off. He has an inkling that they’re about to get distracted.

“I love having a boyfriend who can cook,” Remus says, almost wistfully, and Sirius barks out a laugh as he turns around, still enclosed in his arms.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Though I’m convinced you can’t make anything else. It’s pasta every. single. time. you cook.”

Sirius splutters, “I made you pancakes for dinner yesterday!”

Remus smiles. “Is that really cooking?”

“Yes!” Sirius replies indignantly, trying to duck out of Remus’ embrace.

Remus only holds on tighter, kissing Sirius’ cheeks over and over until he’s laughing too much to fight the arms tightening around him.

Safe. That is the feeling that pushes to the surface in these moments. Sirius feels safe in Remus’ arms. They are the only memories of the war that he can recall clearly, without a haze of fear and uncertainty clouding them.

“Pence for your thoughts?”

“Thinking about cuddling you,” Sirius replies.

“Oh?” Remus smiles.

“Yeah. Except I won’t, because you insulted my cooking.”

Remus raises an eyebrow at that, and before Sirius can say anything else, he feels himself being lifted into the air. “Hey!” he splutters. “Put me down!”

Remus only laughs. “We are going to cuddle. Dinner can wait.”

“Did you not hear me?! I’m mad at you!”

“I heard you love,” Remus says as he (rather unceremoniously) drops Sirius onto their couch. He can’t stay angry as he practically sinks into it, while Remus manoeuvres around, settling on his back with Sirius’ head laying on his chest. Sirius watches the glow of the sunset shine through the window behind them. The sun always has a way of making him feel nostalgic.

See, Sirius used to be obsessed with old black and white films. He’d watch them religiously, the romance genre never left untouched. The couples on screen always seems to emit a simplicity that, while unrealistic, still left Sirius craving love of his own. He wanted to feel it, to feel love in its purest form, and he thought that meant it would be like the black and white films.

This, however, in the most cliche way he can put it, is golden. Being in love is golden. That’s what Remus has taught him. And while the fears always sneaks in, of the war, of surviving, of what comes next, he holds onto these moments as best he can. It isn’t simple, but it’s so, so, worth it.

“Are you afraid?” Sirius asks, because the moment has passed and he is so very scared again.

“Of?” Remus inquires.

“Losing this,” Sirius whispers, barely audible.

Remus is silent for so long that Sirius looks up, and he finds that his eyes are closed.

“Do you remember,” Remus begins, a strange expression on his face. “Do you remember a year or so ago, when the war was getting worse, and we were losing people everyday? When we weren’t sure if we’d make it past noon?”

“I do, but what-”

“Shh. Let me finish. I remember one of those days, I had just come back from a mission, and I was freaking out, but I couldn’t tell you that it was because the werewolves had refused me again. And you noticed Pads. But you didn’t push me. You just pulled out a guitar that you for some reason had in your closet, and started singing. I still don’t know what song it was, but there you were, in our bed, singing exactly what I was feeling. I’m pretty sure I cried. And you only did it once, but I played that memory back almost everyday afterwards.”

Remus pauses, and Sirius smiles at the memory as it floods his mind.

“Now, this is going to sound a little crazy, but that’s when I knew. War be damned, we were going to be okay. That’s what I thought of every time we fought afterwards.”

Sirius remembers the moment, remembers being so unsure of how to help Remus and seeing the guitar as his last resort. It brings back other feelings, too.

“I used to thinks that the fights meant we loved each other,” Sirius says quietly, furrowing his brows.

Remus gives him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. I just didn’t know what else to do. We couldn’t stop fighting, but we were still together, and we were still sleeping on opposite sides of the bed with our feet touching. So we were mad, and in love. I wasn’t sure if one could exist without the other.”

“It did at Hogwarts,” Remus says, but even Sirius hears the falter in his voice.

“You know it didn’t, Rem. It was better, but it took until the war for us to not want to fight. Before it almost seemed fun.”

“Mm. So would you say we’re experts on love now?”

Sirius sits up, pulling Remus with him. He watches the sun dance in Remus’ eyes and kisses him, again and again and again.

“Something like that, darling. Now, dinner? I might even play you a song afterwards.”

“Dinner,” Remus nods, “And definitely a song. I might have a few requests.” Sirius smiles, and swears that when they make it through this, he will always be gentle. With Remus, with life, with love.

*

After.

I wanna be defined by the things that I love

Not the things I hate

Not the things that I'm afraid of

Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night

I, I just think that

You are what you love

“Happy Christmas Moons,” Sirius whispers, though judging by the way Remus bolts awake, it may be better classified as a yell.

“Jesus Pads!”

“Look at you, already in the Christmas spirit,” Sirius smiles, before ducking as an arm comes flying at him.

“Shuddup,” Remus mumbles, already slipping back into sleep.

“Can’t love. It’s 6 AM and we’ve got a whole day of Christmas festivities to get through.”

“Only six-year olds wake up this early on Christmas.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m willing to play the part.”

Sirius hears Remus sigh, a deep, put out sound that tells him he’s won. He slowly sits up, blinking sleep from his eyes and pushing his curls from his face. Sirius leans over to give him a soft kiss before jumping out of bed and grabbing his favourite Christmas sweater from the closet, a red one that’s been charmed to have a black dog in a Santa hat run around holding different Christmas themed objects.

Let the day begin.

Remus trudges down halfway through Sirius cooking their customary Christmas pancakes (a holdover from the Hogwarts winter feast that they’ve kept going). Sirius feels his arms wrap tightly around his waist, and he holds back a smile.

“If you distract me I’m going to burn the pancakes, Re.”

Sirius doesn’t hear a reply, so he keeps cooking, sliding the last pancake onto the plate before finally turning in the circle of Remus’ arms.

“Okay, you have my full attention.”

“Good. Time for presents,” Remus drags Sirius towards the tree, and Sirius can’t help but notice how nervous Remus seems, from the way he’s clutching Sirius’ arm to the slight clench in his other hand.

“I’m sure your presents are amazing, Rem.” Sirius tries to reassure him, but all he gets is a half grin in return.

Sirius chalks it up to Christmas morning nerves as they sit down under the tree, which is covered in an array of handmade ornaments and Polaroids of their various escapades. Sirius rubs his hands together, excited to give Remus what he hopes is a wonderful gift.

“Do you want to open mine first?” Sirius asks, and Remus seems to breathe for the first time since they’ve sat down.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” Sirius smiles and hands him the box, long in length, and wrapped in dog Christmas wrapping.

Remus tries to be gentle with the packaging, and Sirius secretly adores it, how he’ll find every piece of tape to peel off because “It’s just too pretty to rip up, Pads”. Now, Sirius watches intently as Remus holds the box, opening it and staring for a minute before his eyes widen. “Pads…”

“D’you like it? I wasn’t sure, I know it’s one of your favourite lyrics but it is kind of self indulgent- my other gift is probably better anyways and mmph-“ Remus’ lips pressed against his do wonders to stop him talking, and he finally sees the smile on Remus’ face.

“Darling, this is incredible,” he pulls out the two necklaces, handing Sirius his; a simple ‘R.L’ charm in white gold, hanging from a silver chain. Sirius clips it on easily, but Remus hesitates before handing him his own too, gesturing to his neck. Sirius can’t hold back a grin as he sits up, sliding the gold chain around Remus’ neck, the same white gold charm, this time with the letters ‘S.B’ hanging instead. He lets his fingers linger as he leans down to kiss the charm. “I want to wear his initials on a chain ‘round my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me,” Remus whispers as he stares at Sirius’ chain.

“Yep,” is all Sirius manages to say in response.

“James will never let us hear the end of this.”

“Nope.”

Remus gives him another brilliant smile before gesturing to the other packages “Now, what could possibly be better than this?”

Sirius splutters. “You know I only said that because I was nervous. It’s just chocolates and a nice jumper I found at the shops.”

“Perfect,” and Remus unwraps them, setting them aside after another few kisses to Sirius.

Sirius looks at Remus’ gifts, anticipation building in him as he sees the three boxes, all seemingly similar in size. “So…shall I open mine?”

Remus seems to freeze in place suddenly, hand clutching his necklace as he stares at the boxes. “Yeah. Yep. This one first.”

Sirius takes hold of the box, unwrapping it (decidedly less gracefully) to see a puzzle he’s been eyeing for a while. It’s quintessential Remus- thoughtful, wonderful, and just what he wanted. He leans over to crush Remus in a hug. “I love it, Re. Can’t wait to frame it when I’m done.”

Remus just smiles, handing him the next box. It turns out to be a scrapbook starter kit, a place to put all the knick knacks Sirius had collected over the years, and he’s once again ecstatic. “You know me so well Re,” he says, and looks up when he doesn’t get even a snarky response.

“Let’s hope so,” Remus finally says before picking up the final box. “Open it slowly?”

Sirius nods, giving Remus’ cheek a quick kiss before working his way through the packaging. His brain can’t seem to figure out what would have Remus so nervous, because really, he’d cherish anything Remus gave him solely for the fact that it was him that did.

He lifts the lid, and the world pauses. For four seconds (give or take) he stares at the much smaller box sitting inside. A ring box, his brain supplies for him, and he’s surprised to see how much his hand is shaking when he reaches in to grab it. He can’t look up, can only stare and stare at the ring inside, thinking of the things it’s going to symbolize when he-

“Sirius?” Remus’ voice sounds shaky, and Sirius looks up and almost starts crying because he looks scared and he shouldn’t be scared because of course he will of course he will.

He holds the box out to Remus, “You have to ask properly,” he breaths out, and Remus’ laugh is pure relief.

“Okay. Well. I wrote three different speeches for this, if you’ll believe it, and I can’t really remember where one ends and the other begins. They all had this in common though: I love you, Sirius. So much that it used to scare me, and I’d run from it. But now, I just want it to define me. I want people to look at this ring and see that love is what we are, what we stand for. We spent so long in the war I almost forgot how it felt to be so happy, to have love without it coming with hate, without being afraid of losing it. I don’t want that anymore, and I know that because of you. So, Padfoot, will you keep making me this happy? Will you marry me?”

Sirius had no qualms in sharing that he was bawling his eyes out. It had started somewhere around the ‘I love you’ and hadn’t stopped since. He was having a hard time hearing his own thoughts, but he was pretty sure he was supposed to be saying something right now. He looked at Remus, whose face was also tear stricken, but who was also holding out a ring. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes”, this time it came out stronger. “YES,” and then he fell into Remus’ arms, feeling him slip the ring on. He could get used to this. The feeling of forever on his finger. The war would haunt them for a long, long time, but for the first time, he didn’t think it would define them.

“So this is why you’ve been so nervous all morning,” Sirius finally says, when the tears have slowed down and he’s starting to doze off in Remus’ arms.

“Mm. I didn’t think I’d have to propose at 7 AM. You really threw me a curveball.”

“I can’t say that I’m very sorry, love.”

“I know. I know.”

“That was an incredible speech by the way. I wasn’t sure if my tears conveyed that message.”

“They did, I think. I got the impression that you definitely love me back.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re very right. Just wait until James hears about this.”

He feels Remus smile against his hair. “It’s going to be amazing. I put money on him screaming, you?”

“Money on him giving a speech that includes corny lines such as ‘You are what you love’ and ‘Your best friend makes the perfect partner’.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be wrong.”

“No, but he can’t know that.” Sirius feels more awake now, and his senses zone in to the faint smell of pancakes still clinging to the kitchen. “Shit. Our pancakes have gone cold.

“I put a warming charm on them. We’re good.”

“My saviour. Really, where would the world be without your warming charms?”

“The warming charm on your pancakes has suddenly malfunctioned.”

Sirius pulls away at this, glaring at Remus, who can’t hold back a wicked grin as he plays with the ring on Sirius’ finger. The gold is shiny, the stone is red, and it’s so, so perfect. Sirius forces himself up, dragging Remus with him because he really is hungry (accepting a proposal can have that affect) and they’re meeting James, Lily, and Mary in a few hours, so they have to get ready.

It’s not a life that Sirius can confidently say he expected to have had two years ago, when even the seemingly ended war kept coming back in fragments. But two years of peacetime has taught him this: Peace is something you must grab with your bare hands. It is something that you must dig out Hope for, no matter what grave she lies in. It has also taught him that love is found in the light, even if that light is of the moon in the darkness.

That is what he holds onto as he eats his pancakes, legs under the table tangled with Remus’.

That’s all.