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An icy wind buffeted Sirius’s body as he padded through the woods, snow crunching under his paws. Moonlight filtered through the bare branches and illuminated his path. It’s almost the full moon, Sirius realized. The lunar calendar had been etched into his brain years before a tattoo of the moon had waxed and waned on his chest. Yet he had lost track – most of his time in Azkaban had been spent in dog form, leaving him unable to track the moon’s progress on his skin, and the events of Halloween had broken something inside him, blotting out his internal countdown.
When he reached a clearing and saw the tiny, dilapidated cabin, Sirius drew to a stop. Fear wrapped around him, colder than the December air. It was different from the fear of the dementors that kept him skulking from place to place, sleeping in frigid forests and dank caves. This had a heavy, sick guilt mingled with the chill of fear: guilt for the suspicion he had harbored towards Remus, and for the ugly word and accusations borne of the sharp sting of perceived betrayal. Moony, he thought, wondering whether he would be able force the name through lips unaccustomed to speech. He might kill me before I can get the words out. The wind picked up, sending a stream of icy snow into Sirius’s face. He might kill me, and I fucking deserve it.
Rotten floorboards creaked as he climbed the steps. He scratched the door; paint crumbled under his claws. The cabin was dark, except for a glimmer of yellow light deep inside. A muffled voice he would recognize anywhere, then footsteps and the ripple of protective magic.
“Hello?”
It took Remus a moment to look down and register Sirius’s presence, but when he did, his posture stiffened and fury crackled in the air.
“Fuck. When I heard you’d escaped, I knew you’d show up eventually. Are you going to make me kill you in dog form? Face me like a man, Sirius.”
Sirius could feel the heat of Remus’s wand pointed at him, but he was past the point of caring. His human limbs felt foreign after so many days on four legs. He held his hands in the air; finally he had stopped instinctively reaching for a wand he no longer possessed.
“If you think I’m going to help you, Sirius, you’re just as mad as they say,” Remus murmured.
Sirius took a deep breath of cold air, too overwhelmed by Remus’s presence to speak.
“Why’d you do it?”
A wave of grief lapped at Sirius’s mind. “I didn’t,” he croaked.
“Bullshit.”
A faint cry drifted out from the warm interior of the cabin. Sirius’s heart clenched; he recognized that cry. He would know it anywhere.
“You have Harry?”
Remus took a step closer, his wand raised. “Stay the fuck away from him.”
Sirius hardly heard him. He was imagining the last time he had held Harry — the scent of his hair, the clutch of his chubby fingers around his wrist, the softness of his flannel Ballycastle Bats pajamas. His eyes burned, and a lump rose in his throat.
“Padfoot?”
Remus lowered his wand a fraction of an inch. He was staring at Sirius with an unreadable expression on his face. Slowly, he reached forward and brushed Sirius’s cheek. When he pulled away, a single drop of water clung to his fingertip. He gazed at it in astonishment. Sirius tilted his face up to the sky, searching for the source of that drop of water – a snowflake, or a chilly rain. But the sky was clear, studded with stars. Fuck. I’m crying. Sirius never cried; he had learned at a young age to associate tears with weakness and shame and the burn of a Stinging Hex, an association he had never managed to shake even after fleeing Grimmauld Place for good. He should be ashamed to let Remus see him like this, but he had so much to be ashamed of these days, what was a tear or two between former friends, or former lovers, or former whatever-the-fuck they were?
“Can I see him?” Sirius whispered.
“Why’d you do it?” Remus repeated, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Prongs and Lily, and Pete…” He swallowed. “Fuck, Padfoot. How could you do that?”
Sirius blinked; another tear rolled down his face, the sensation foreign against his skin.
“I didn’t.” He took a step forward, bracing for Remus to hex or punch him, but there was only tense, expectant silence. “I’ll explain everything.”
His hand slid to his pocket, and Remus jabbed his wand against Sirius’s neck. It was white-hot, but Sirius did not flinch.
“Veritaserum. In my pocket.” When Remus hesitated, Sirius added, “Go on. I’m not just trying to get you to feel me up.”
In spite of the yawning distance the past months had carved between them, Remus laughed. The sound settled over Sirius, filling in some of the cracks in his shattered soul.
“Where did you get this?” Remus asked when he had plucked the bottle from the pocket of Sirius’s ragged trousers.
“Potion shop in Knockturn Alley. Quality potions, but their security is shit. Dung taught me that.”
Remus frowned at the sealed stopper on the vial, then held it up to the light to squint at the contents.
“Test it,” Sirius urged.
Still frowning, Remus tapped the bottle and murmured an incantation. The bottle shone blue for a moment, the glow illuminating Remus’s fingers with a ghostly hue.
“Veritaserum,” he whispered. His hands shook as he unstoppered the bottle and held it out to Sirius.
Sirius had taken all sorts of potions – extra strength Draught of Peace, and Elixir to Induce Euphoria, and concoctions without a proper name, but never Veritaserum. He braced for a bitter taste or a burn as it slid down his throat, but it was as innocuous as a sip of water. It loosened his tongue and eased the mental walls he had kept raised out of habit for as long as he could remember.
“Did you betray Lily and James?”
“No.” The word slipped from Sirius’s lips before he was conscious of speaking. It brought an odd sense of relief, knowing the truth would pour out whether he wanted it to or not.
A furrow appeared on Remus’s forehead; Sirius had a vivid memory of smoothing that furrow and laughing.
“Did you kill Peter?”
“No.” The Veritaserum tapped at his lips, and he felt more words pouring out. “He faked his death. Blew up the street, killed all those people, cut off his own finger.” Even under the influence of Veritaserum, the bleak truth cut his throat. “He betrayed Prongs and Evans. We changed secret keepers at the last minute. We didn’t tell you because we thought you were the traitor.” A beat of silence; more words pushing at the back of Sirius’s lips. “I’m sorry.”
Remus gazed at Sirius, a tumult of emotion clouding his eyes. After a tense silence, he touched Sirius’s shoulder. It was the barest brush, but Sirius felt his touch sear through his filthy Azkaban uniform.
“It wasn’t you?”
Sirius shook his head, repressing a smile as he saw relief washing over Remus’s face. “It wasn’t me.”
Remus leaned forward as though he wanted to embrace Sirius, but then he moved away, holding himself back. “Do you…?”
Sirius’s lips twitched. “You’re going to ask me something embarrassing.”
Remus laughed again, louder this time. “I think I’ve earned an embarrassing question.”
Sirius thought of the cruel words he had thrown at Remus without a second thought. “You have.”
Remus crossed his arms and met Sirius’s gaze. There was hope and a hint of shyness in his expression, but at the same time he was ruthless.
“Do you love me?”
Everything in Sirius told him to stay quiet, to deny it, to deflect the question, but the Veritaserum would not be silenced.
“Yes.” A charged moment, then, “Fuck you.”
Joy flashed across Remus’s face. He beamed at Sirius for a moment, then wrapped him in a tight embrace. For a few moments, nothing mattered but that fucking hug.
“You want to see Harry?” Remus murmured when he released Sirius. His voice was choked with emotion, but Sirius was in no position to point that out. He was in no position to do anything but nod.
Remus took his hand and led him into the house. It was shabby, and the floor creaked, but the warmth of a crackling fire enveloped Sirius, pulling him back to countless nights in the common room. A sparse pine tree stood in the corner, bedecked with fairy lights and a mismatched assortment of baubles. When Sirius spotted Harry dozing on a pile of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, he stopped breathing. He paused, terrified to pierce the cozy haze of Harry’s slumber until Remus scooped him up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“Your uncle Padfoot is here, Harry,” he whispered. “He came a long way to see you.”
Harry’s eyes fluttered open. He gazed sleepily at Sirius, and then his lips tugged up into a smile. “Pa-foot,” he said. Sirius felt the rest of the cracks in his soul start to fill in under the influence of Harry’s brilliant smile. Slowly, carefully, he took Harry from Remus’s arms, marveling at how small and warm his little body was.
“Hi, Harry,” he whispered. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
“Pa-foot,” Harry repeated, heaving a sigh and settling his forehead against Sirius’s chest. Sirius was glad Harry’s face was hidden against his Azkaban uniform; somehow it felt more shameful to cry in front of Harry than to cry in front of Remus. After a moment, he felt the warm weight of Remus’s hand on his shoulder.
“Do you have any Ogden’s?”
Remus gave an incredulous snort. “We haven’t spoken in months, and you show up here and ask for Ogden’s?”
For the first time since Azkaban, Sirius laughed. “I just confessed my love and cried, completely fucking sober. Ogden’s would be a kindness, Moony. A blowjob would be even kinder, but we can start with the Ogden’s.”
A smile spread across Remus’s face. “So fucking needy,” he muttered as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Sirius stretched his legs out and rested his feet on the coffee table, shifting aside a ragged coloring page and a toy dragon. He glanced at the door, trying to tamp down the restlessness bubbling in his chest. How fucking long does it take to go Christmas shopping? It put him on edge when Remus was gone too long – he knew it was irrational, yet he couldn’t shake the vague fear that he wouldn’t see him again. He jammed a cigarette into his mouth and lit it. The rush of nicotine eased the edges of his worry, but he didn’t unclench his fists until the door swung open to emit Remus and a burst of snowy air.
“About time you got back.”
Remus smiled. “I was getting your Christmas present.” He stooped to plant a kiss on the top of Harry’s head, then sat down on the sofa and leaned toward Sirius. His lips were cold, and he smelled like fresh air and freedom. Sirius drank him in, then pulled away and draped his legs across Remus’s lap, flashing him a cheeky grin.
“What did you get me? Cologne? Ogden’s? A new Bowie t-shirt to replace the one Harry colored all over?”
Remus smiled wryly. “I still think we can get that out with some sort of potion–”
“By all means, Moony, enlighten me on this miracle potion. Brew us up a batch – maybe it will take the blood stains out of that blanket you’re so hacked off at me for using.”
“It wasn’t the full moon blanket,” Remus said, heaving a sigh. “It was a nice blanket.”
“Yes, well, fuck me for wrapping your bruised and battered body in something warm. May as well throw me to the Dementors.”
Remus tensed. “That’s not fucking funny.”
Sirius shrugged. “Dark humor is the only coping mechanism I’m allowed these days, seeing as you give me a dirty look every time I pour a drink or light a cigarette.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Have we run out of Ogden’s or Marlboros since you moved in here?”
Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus held up his hand.
“Except for that once, which was intentional, because you were–”
“–being a shit,” Sirius finished.
“More of a shit than usual,” Remus amended. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Sirius sighed. He hated admitting Remus was right, but he couldn’t deny the reliability of that cabinet above the sink and the Marlboro packets that always sat on the counter beside the door. It was comforting, knowing he could count on their presence, along with Remus’s presence, and Harry’s. It was all he needed in life, really – Moony and Harry, and a glass of Ogden’s, and a cigarette at the end of the day. It beat the hell out of prison, even if Moony was a fucking nag and Harry colored on his favorite t-shirt.
“Fine. I never go thirsty or cigarette-less,” Sirius admitted. “Or blowjob-less.”
“That’s not a word,” Remus grumbled. “And not so loud. Harry’s right there.”
He glanced sideways at Sirius. “You know, I wasn’t out at the shops buying you a gift. I was trying to clear your name.”
Sirius’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Trying to hunt down Peter? Excellent Christmas gift. Very romantic.”
Remus snorted with laughter. “Well, it fits, seeing as you are the least romantic person I’ve ever met.”
Sirius didn’t answer, but he slid his arm around Remus’s waist and pulled him close. The man was too fucking skinny, but what else was new. Sirius rested his head on Remus’s shoulder for just a moment – any longer and it was sentimental bollocks.
“I don’t suppose you have a plan for dinner?” Remus asked when Sirius had pulled away.
“Takeaway?”
Remus waved away his comment. “I’ll make something. But can you tidy up a bit? It looks like a tornado hit in here.” He gestured at the toys strewn across the floor, and Harry seated in the middle of the mess building a block tower.
“It looks like the street after Wormtail blew it up,” Sirius said.
Remus’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Padfoot. Too fucking soon.”
Sirius shrugged, as though the memory didn’t still wake him up screaming at night, as though he couldn’t still smell the tang of blood and hear the cries of Muggles ringing in his head.
“Stick with your Ogden’s and cigarettes,” Remus said, patting him on the shoulder. “Give the dark humor a rest.”
He strode into the kitchen, nearly tripping over a wooden block as he went. Harry’s eyes followed Remus, a bemused expression on his little face.
“Don’t mind Uncle Moony,” Sirius said, plopping down onto the floor beside Harry and building the blocks into a teetering tower. They were supposed to be picking up, but fuck it. “He’s a nag, but we’re stuck with him. He’s the only family we’ve got left.”
Harry twirled a round green block between his fingers, his brow furrowing. “What’s family?”
The words wrapped around Sirius’s heart and squeezed. How could he explain a concept that was more complicated than it had any right to be? He thought of Walburga and Orion – his family by blood, yet they had not been family in years. Regulus – but he pushed that thought aside. It still hurt too much to think about Regulus. And who did Harry have? An aunt, uncle, and cousin he had never met, who wanted nothing to do with him. Lily and James had loved him fiercely, but Sirius knew they were only a shadow of a memory in Harry’s mind.
From the kitchen, Sirius heard Remus’s footsteps. The kettle whistled, and dishes clattered softly, then a hiss as bacon dropped into a pan. The sounds were comforting and familiar: the sounds of home. Warmth spread through his chest and filled his whole body. He ruffled Harry’s hair, noticing something sticky smeared in his fringe. Strawberry jam, he thought. Harry’s favorite. Evans’s favorite, too.
“Family is the people you love, Harry.”
Harry tilted his head, his face screwed up as he mulled this over. Sirius looked at the lightning bolt scar underneath jam-streaked hair, and the long, full eyelashes he had inherited from his father. Prongs used to brag about those eyelashes, Sirius thought, the memory eliciting both a leap of joy and an ache of pain. Arrogant wanker.
Something seemed to click into place on Harry’s face. He nodded, then got to his feet and handed Sirius the green block.
“Uncle Padfoot holds.”
Sirius curled his fingers around the block. It was warm and slightly clammy from Harry’s grasp. “Alright. I can do that.”
Harry nodded again. “Want a biscuit.”
“Go ask Uncle Moony, but say please or he won’t give you one.”
As Harry headed for the kitchen, Sirius added, “Get me one too.” He hesitated, then added, “Please.” He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be a good role model for once.
He heaved a sigh and tightened his fingers around that wooden block. Family is the people you love. He was no good at answering tough questions, but he thought that perhaps this time, sitting on the floor in the glow of the Christmas tree, he had done alright.
The clock on the wall ticked. Sirius blew out a mouthful of smoke, watching it drift around his face until the room was hazy. He longed for a drink, but the glass on the coffee table had nothing but a sticky ring of firewhisky at the bottom, and the Ogden’s bottle was empty, shoved into the rubbish bin on top of old coffee grounds and a box of stale cereal. Twice he had wandered into the kitchen to gaze longingly at the bottle of champagne in the refrigerator, but they were meant to save it for Christmas Eve, because Remus cared about that sort of thing, and as much as Sirius liked to grumble, he cared about Remus. So he waited, antsy and not quite drunk enough, as the silence stifled him.
He pictured Remus and Harry wandering through the snowy streets of Diagon Alley, peering at window displays and stopping to admire the big Christmas tree in front of Gringotts. Once Sirius had carried around the two-way mirror so James, shut in the cottage in Godric’s Hollow, could experience Diagon Alley at Christmas. Now, Sirius was just as trapped as James had been.
He checked the clock again, then stubbed out his cigarette and sprang to his feet. Before he had time to reconsider, or hear Remus’s admonishment in his head, or think of the creeping cold of the dementors, he strode into the bathroom and transfigured his face enough for a passable disguise. Satisfied with his work, he slipped from the house and Apparated using the wand Remus had acquired for him last Christmas.
He appeared in an alley between a cauldron shop and a bakery. Leaning against the side of the bakery, he breathed in the mingled scents of Diagon Alley: baking bread and roasting nuts from a vendor across the street and the harsh tang of a bottle of potion someone had dropped on the sidewalk. When he emerged from the alley, a middle-aged woman brushed past Sirius, her bulging shopping bags knocking into his thigh. A little ways ahead, a young boy barreled into him, then jogged past laughing without a backward glance or an apology. Swarms of people surrounded him, talking and hurrying and going about their business. It was jarring to be surrounded by so many people, when over the past two years he had seen only Remus and Harry. Sirius had never shrank from crowds the way Remus did, but now he felt squeezed and buffeted and desperate for a drink.
A bell rang as he stepped into a pub. He wasn’t reckless enough to go to the Leaky Cauldron, instead choosing a lesser-known place on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alley. He took an empty seat at the bar, settling beside a stooped elderly man. The counter was covered with a film of old beer; Sirius prodded it with his finger, oddly satisfied by the sticky surface. Fuck, he had missed having a pint at a pub. It was such a simple pleasure, a privilege he had never truly appreciated until it had been ripped away.
“What’ll it be?”
The sound of the bartender’s voice nearly sent Sirius tumbling from his stool. For a moment, he froze, all drink orders fleeing his head, but then he heard himself ordering a beer, the words sliding easily from his lips as though no time had passed.
The first foamy, bubbly sip was almost orgasmic. He had to stop himself from actually moaning – it would draw unwanted attention to himself. The second sip was even better, and by the third, his chest was warm and his limbs were loosening. He leaned back in his chair, grinning as the man beside him grumbled about the Quidditch match issuing from the wireless.
“You a Tornadoes supporter?” the disgruntled man asked.
Sirius hesitated for a fraction of a second, but what was the harm in answering? It had been ages since he had discussed Quidditch with a stranger, and talking Quidditch with Remus was terribly unsatisfying.
“Nah, I support the Cannons.”
The older man snorted into his pint. “My condolences.”
“Don’t give me that. They’re having a decent season.”
“Decent compared to the absolute cauldron fire last year was.” The man took a long pull from his pint, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell you what. I come in here most days. If your Cannons win a single match, I’ll buy your drinks all night.”
Sirius grinned and stuck out his hand for the man to shake, ignoring the twinge of regret when he realized he really couldn’t risk another trip out of the house. “Deal.”
They listened to the match and drank their pints, and when Sirius’s glass was empty, the bartender poured him another and slid it across the bar without being asked. Sirius was lulled into a contented state, eased by the alcohol and the familiar smoky atmosphere of a pub. He was so happy, he didn’t notice Remus’s presence until he touched his shoulder.
“You fancied a drink at the pub, did you?”
Remus’s tone was light, but there was panic rippling beneath his words, and underneath a dangerous current of anger. Harry clung to his hand, his cheeks pink from the cold, his untidy hair peeking from underneath a knitted hat.
“Got thirsty,” Sirius said evasively.
Remus nodded stiffly, then glanced at the half-full pint on the counter in front of Sirius. “You may as well finish that, then.”
“This your…?” The older man looked uncertainly at Remus and Harry.
“My family,” Sirius said shortly. He drained the rest of his pint in one breath, then waved to the other man and followed Remus out of the pub
“Uncle Moony said adult words when we couldn’t find you,” Harry confided, his eyes widening. “Lots of them.”
“That’s enough, Harry,” Remus snapped. “Stand still. I’m going to Side-Along-Apparate you.”
Sirius drew his wand and Apparated with a pop. When he appeared on the steps and strode through the protective spells into the house, Remus was staring at him with quiet, suppressed rage. Sirius felt it crackling in the air, so palpable it nearly stirred his hair and brushed his skin. He took a step forward, and something crunched under his boot.
“Uncle Moony threw that,” Harry said.
Sirius looked closer and realized it was a shard of the breakfast dish he had left on the coffee table.
“That’s enough, Harry,” Remus repeated. “Sirius, would you like to explain why you thought a few pints at the pub was worth risking being dragged back to Azkaban?”
Sirius felt the anger emanating from Remus. It was terrifying; it was also a bit sexy. He held his hands up.
“Moony, do you really want to let Harry see you angry?”
Remus hated and feared the anger that simmered under the surface, invisible except for the few rare occasions it bubbled up and exploded. He glanced at Harry, as though he had forgotten his presence, then jabbed his finger in the direction of the hallway.
“Go to your room, Harry.”
Harry scurried away, as though physically pushed forward by the sharp snap of Remus’s usually calm voice.
“You know, you really shouldn’t swear in front of Harry,” Sirius said, smiling lightly.
The shred of self-restraint holding Remus’s anger at bay disintegrated. “Don’t fucking lecture me, Sirius. What were you thinking, going out like that and risking everything?”
“I was thinking I wanted to get out of this fucking cottage for once.”
Remus waved away his words like he was waving away a cobweb. “So because you got restless, you thought that was worth putting your freedom in jeopardy? Was a pint worth making me think the fucking dementors had come to take you away?”
A stab of guilt lapped at Sirius’s consciousness, but he pushed it away. “I’m fine, Moony. Nothing happened. Anyway, I disguised myself.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes, because changing your hair color and giving yourself a beard is going to fool everyone. Jesus fucking Christ, Sirius, I could recognize you from a mile away.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wand, his nostrils flaring and his eyes bright with fury.
“Going to hex me?”
Remus ground his teeth. “I’d like to fucking punch you. But I’ve already been a shit role model for Harry today…” He let out a long, shaky breath and slipped his wand back into his pocket. “Fucking hell, Padfoot. We searched for you all along Diagon Alley.”
Sirius imagined Remus, panic-stricken and dragging a confused Harry along beside him. The guilt twisting his chest intensified.
“I suppose I could’ve left a note.”
“Fuck you.” Remus’s voice was vibrating with emotion as he grabbed Sirius’s wrist. “I fucking love you, you selfish arsehole. Harry loves you. You’re our fucking family. What do you imagine it would be like for us if you weren’t around?”
Sirius drummed his fingers against the side of his face. “Well, I suppose you’d save money not having to buy firewhisky and cigarettes–”
Remus gave his shoulder a hard shove.
“Don’t fucking shove me.”
“Well, don’t be an arsehole,” Remus shot back. He sighed, the fight rushing out of him, and collapsed onto the sofa. “I’m a shit parent. I’m not even a parent at all. Padfoot, I can’t do this without you.”
He rubbed his temples, and all of a sudden he looked weary and years older. Sirius felt weak with shame.
“I know everything that happened after Halloween was hell for you, but did you ever think what it was like for me?”
Sirius remained silent, not trusting himself to speak.
“I was so fucking alone, Padfoot. It was just me and a kid I had no fucking idea how to care for, when I was so shattered I could barely take care of myself.”
The vulnerability in his voice drew Sirius in. He sat down on the sofa beside Remus, their knees and shoulders touching.
“I can’t go back to that,” Remus said. “And I couldn’t stand knowing you had to endure the dementors every day. That would break my fucking heart. But by all means, tell me how you thirsty you were.”
Sirius sighed and leaned his head back against the sofa. “I’m sorry,” he grumbled. He hated apologizing; the words caught in his throat almost as much as I love you did, but he couldn’t ignore the helplessness on Remus’s face.
“What?” Remus asked, smiling vindictively. “Didn’t quite catch that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sirius repeated, louder this time. “I just wanted to get out of the house and smell some fresh air and drink a pint and talk Quidditch with someone who fucking knows the difference between cobbing and blagging for once, but I suppose it was a bit reckless and selfish and, well, a very Sirius Black move.”
Remus’s lips twitched. “Yes. It was.” He heaved a sigh and rested his hand on Sirius’s knee. “You fucking wanker. You made me swear in front of Harry.”
“You also broke a dish,” Sirius pointed out.
“I wouldn’t have broken it if you’d put it in the sink,” Remus said, shooting him a pointed look.
“Well, look on the bright side. It’s one less dish for you to wash later.”
Remus snorted with laughter. “You’re mad if you think I’m doing the dishes tonight.”
“Alright, fine, I’ll do the dishes. But don’t complain when I whip you on the arse with the dish towel, because I am physically incapable of doing the dishes without doing that.” He rested his head on Remus’s shoulder, closing his eyes and heaving a blissful sigh as Remus began to comb his fingers through his hair. “You’re not a shit parent,” he added.
Remus’s dubious sigh stirred Sirius’s hair. “I’m a werewolf with no steady source of income, I’m useless three days a month, and today I said fuck about sixteen times in front of a four-year-old.”
Sirius lifted his head and looked at Remus. “I swear in front of him at least once a day, Moony. And the rest of that shit doesn’t matter. You feed him and make sure he has clean clothes and read him books, and you love him. You actually tell him you love him. And he adores you. You’re a great parent.”
Remus frowned, and Sirius sensed his irrepressible urge to argue. Instead, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sirius. His bony shoulder poked Sirius’s chest, and his hair tickled, and the hug had no business being as nice as it was, but there was something inexplicably comforting about Remus’s long, thin arms enveloping Sirius.
“You’re a fucking prick, and I’m still mad at you,” Remus grumbled, nestling his face into the crook of Sirius’s neck. “But I love you.”
Remus had been repeating these words for years, yet the reply always caught in Sirius’s throat. As he pulled Remus closer, the scratch of his wool jumper centered him.
“Love you too,” he muttered.
They clung together for a moment in silence before Sirius pulled away.
“We should get dinner started. A delicious dinner will make Harry forget all the profanity he heard earlier. I read that in a parenting book.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “No you didn’t. You pulled that out of your arse.”
Sirius shrugged. “Well, either way. A delicious dinner can’t hurt, right? Come on.” He rose and started for the kitchen. “You can come out of your room, Harry!” he called. “Uncle Moony is finished using adult language and telling me what a selfish butthead I am.”
“Padfoot…”
“What? I said butthead!”
“Padfoot, we’re leaving in a minute. Are you waiting for me to tie your shoes for you, too?”
Harry shooed Remus’s hands away from his trainers. “I can do it myself.” He grabbed the laces and clumsily pulled them into a bow.
“Alright.” Remus held up his hands and took a step back. “Want to do Uncle Padfoot’s, then? His boots are still by the door.”
Sirius stretched out on the sofa and frowned. “I was thinking, maybe I shouldn’t go. It’s a bit risky, isn’t it?”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Christmas tree farms are among the most dangerous places on earth. Only the bold or foolhardy dare to brave the fluffy snow and fragrant pine trees. And don’t get me started on the scalding hot cider – third degree burns just waiting to happen!”
“Is it dangerous?” Harry asked, pausing halfway through a questionable bow on his left trainer. The potential danger did not seem to deter him; in fact, he looked intrigued.
“No, Harry,” Sirius said, surreptitiously flicking his wand to tighten Harry’s shoelaces. “Uncle Moony is being a smartarse.”
“I’m just saying, I didn’t dedicate years to getting your name cleared so you could skip out on wholesome family outings.” Remus jabbed his wand at Sirius’s boots, and they soared through the air to land at the foot of the sofa. “Put your shoes on, and a decent coat – this isn’t a leather jacket activity–”
“Everything is a leather jacket activity.”
Remus pointed his wand at the coat closet and Summoned a puffy jacket Sirius hadn’t seen in years. Scowling, he slid it on and stood up to survey the result in the mirror above the mantle. The thick down lining made his arms stick out at a comical angle, and when he sniffed the voluminous hood, a musty scent filled his nostrils.
“It smells funny,” he announced. “And I look like a tosser.”
Remus waved his wand, and a burst of lemony air settled around Sirius. “Now you smell like lemons. And Harry’s wearing the same sort of coat. Does he look like a tosser?”
Sirius shot a guilty look at Harry. With his thin frame swathed in the bulky coat, and his untidy hair peeking out from underneath the hood, he looked adorable.
“Of course not. You look excellent, Harry.”
Harry beamed, revealing a missing front tooth.
“But Harry and I go for very different, er, aesthetics,” Sirius continued.
“Sod your aesthetic,” Remus said. “It’s cold out. Come on, let’s go before all the good trees are taken.”
They traveled by Floo Powder and arrived in a high ceilinged-room filled with Santa figurines and an enormous cauldron. As they approached, three mugs rose into the air from a nearby table and dropped toward the cauldron where a floating ladle filled them with steaming, fragrant cider. A mug bumped against Sirius’s hands, and he curled his fingers around it, relishing the warmth. The first sip was even better: sweet and tart, bursting with cinnamon and cloves.
“You sure it’s not too risky, Padfoot?” Remus whispered, gesturing at the cider.
Sirius smiled wryly. “Shut up.”
They filtered out into the bright December sunshine, wending through the milling crowd until they reached a display of hand saws and plastic sleds. Remus selected a saw and handed it to Sirius while a sled removed itself from the hanger and began gliding through the snow ahead of them. They crunched through the snow, sipping their cider until there was nothing but cinnamon dregs at the bottom of the cup.
“Can we get a big tree?” Harry asked eagerly. His hat had fallen down over his face. Too fucking adorable for his own good, Sirius thought. Damn kid. It’s unfair.
“We’ll get the biggest one that will fit in the house,” Sirius said. “And if it’s too big, we’ll enlarge the ceiling. Make it fit.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “We could shrink the tree a bit. Might be easier–”
“Nah, we’re not compromising on size. Wouldn’t be in the Christmas spirit, would it, Harry?”
Harry shook his head. His hat was now fully obscuring one eye.
“Alright,” Remus said. “Have it your way. Which tree looks promising?”
Sirius surveyed the selection of trees. “Hard to tell.” The wind picked up, tugging at his hair and chilling his cheeks, and he had an irresistible urge to run. “Hold this, will you?”
He handed the saw to Remus, then transformed into a dog and barked with glee. He licked Harry’s face, eliciting a delighted laugh, then took off running through the snow. Snow kicked up behind him, and startled guests shuffled aside to let him pass. Wind buffeted his face, and he smelled pine and the crisp, cold scent of snow. Trees flew by in a blur. For a moment, everything fell away except the delicious pull of freedom. His name had been cleared for months, yet he still marveled at the opportunity to run as far as he wanted without needing to fear the rattle of cold, putrid breath.
A laugh rang out behind him. Turning, he saw Harry racing along on the sled, its progress guided by Remus’s wand. Harry’s cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his face was lit with joy. The sled leapt forward, and they moved side-by-side until Sirius had to dodge sideways to avoid a tree. Shrieking with glee, Harry spun to a stop and plopped onto the snow. Sirius transformed and flung himself down beside Harry. They gazed up at the grey sky, their bodies shaking with laughter, until the snow began to soak through Sirius’s trousers. He heaved himself upright, then helped up Harry.
“And you didn’t want to come,” Remus said, brushing snow from Sirius’s shoulder. He wore a smug smile that would have annoyed Sirius if it wasn’t so fucking adorable.
“Shut up,” Sirius grumbled. “Give me that saw, will you? I think this is the tree.”
When they got the tree home, it took several tries to place it in the stand before Remus deemed it straight enough. Once Remus was satisfied, he and Harry strung the lights while Sirius dug the box of ornaments out of the closet.
“Lights are done,” Remus announced. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate. Harry, help Uncle Padfoot with the ornaments so he doesn’t get distracted halfway through.”
Sirius unwrapped an ornament and tossed the crinkled tissue paper it had been wrapped in at Remus. “Arsehole.”
“It’s rude to call someone an arsehole,” Harry observed as Remus strode into the kitchen.
“Yes, well, sometimes Uncle Moony is rude.” Sirius reached into the box of ornaments and pulled out a glittering ceramic hippogriff. He hung it on the tree, then plucked the next bundle of tissue paper from the box. When he unwrapped the framed photograph, his breath caught in his chest. A younger version of himself smiled out of the photograph, Lily and James on either side of him. All three of them wore matching Christmas jumpers, and a sprig of holly was nestled in James’s hair.
“Mum and Dad,” Harry murmured.
Sirius nodded, unable to speak. He had not seen this photograph in years – not since a well-placed spell and a severed finger had torn his life apart. Now, standing beside a fragrant Christmas tree with Harry, the unexpected sight of the Potters’ unabashed joy made Sirius’s eyes burn.
“Nice jumper.”
Sirius tore his eyes away from the photograph and looked at Harry. The boy wore a teasing smile. It was humbling to have the piss taken out of him by a six-year-old, but Sirius felt the knot in his chest begin to ease.
“Your dad was mad for Christmas,” he muttered. “Your grandparents, too. I didn’t have a choice about that stupid jumper.”
Harry picked a glittery red bulb off the tree and twirled it between his fingers. “You miss them.”
Several snarky retorts popped into Sirius’s mind, but he dismissed them all. Harry didn’t deserve snark; he had been through just as much as Sirius had.
“Yeah.”
Harry nodded. He watched the bulb twirl for a moment before fixing his gaze on Sirius. There was a glaze of emotion in his eyes. It reminded Sirius of the way Lily had looked every time she had talked about her fondness for James.
“I miss them, too,” Harry whispered.
Sirius felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. It was all well and good for him to miss James and Lily; he could dull the pain with a generous glass of Ogden’s. Harry was just a kid and had to face his grief head-on. Sirius patted Harry’s shoulder, and they stood in silence, the photograph clutched in Sirius’s other hand, until Remus strolled in levitating three mugs of hot chocolate.
“I put extra whipped cream on yours, Harry,” he said. “Because last time…”
He trailed off. Sirius looked up and saw sympathy clouding Remus’s face as he gazed at the framed photograph.
“That was with the stuff from your flat,” Remus explained. “Your belongings that were released when your name was cleared. I was going to leave it stored away in the attic, but…”
Sirius cleared his throat and placed the framed photograph on the mantle. “Nah. It should be on display. Harry should know what a madman for Christmas his dad was.”
Remus touched Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius wanted to shrug out of his touch, but the warmth was keeping his sadness at bay.
“He got us to decorate the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts every year,” Remus said, and Harry’s smile widened. “We cut down a tree from the school grounds and levitated it through the window. Your mum even helped once or twice, Harry.”
Smiling to himself, Harry took a sip of the steaming hot chocolate, then returned to decorating the tree. Sirius and Remus watched in silence for a moment, Remus’s hand lingering on Siriur’s shoulder.
“You alright?” Remus murmured.
“Fuck off.”
Remus slid his arm around Sirius’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “Love you.”
Sirius sighed and relaxed into Remus’s embrace. “Love you too,” he grumbled.
People jostled past, hurrying to get to their respective platforms. Sirius glared at a blonde woman after she stepped on his foot. He jammed a cigarette into his mouth and lit up, letting the nicotine ease his irritation. As they reached the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters, he drew to a stop and waited for the crowd to thin out.
“You first,” he said, nodding at the entrance.
Remus smiled wryly. “Nice try. You just want to poke my arse as I go through.”
Sirius widened his eyes in mock-indignation. “Come on, Moony. Give me a bit more credit. I’m not that immature.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “You did it as I was walking up the stairs yesterday, but alright.”
He stepped toward the blank stretch of wall. Just before he disappeared, Sirius stuck out his arm and poked Remus’s butt. Laughing, he followed, emerging on the other side to see Remus’s exasperated smile.
“So fucking predictable,” he said, slipping his arm around Sirius’s shoulders.
“You love it,” Sirius retorted. He slid his arm around Remus’s waist, tucking his fingers into Remus’s pocket. It felt like coming home. They waited this way as other parents swarmed the platform, talking and laughing and wondering aloud about the lateness of the train. Finally, the train appeared with a screech of brakes and a blast of steam. Sirius and Remus exchanged excited looks.
“Don’t worry,” Remus said, squeezing Sirius’s shoulder. “I won’t tell Harry how much you’ve missed him.”
“Fuck off,” Sirius muttered. He had missed Harry, but that was beside the point.
“You’re so sweet,” Remus said. “I’m so lucky to have such a sweet, loving–”
“You’d better cut out the snark, otherwise I’ll do worse than poke your arse next time you walk up the stairs ahead of me.”
A grey-haired witch beside them shot Sirius a scandalized look, and they both stifled laughter.
“Oh, there he is,” Remus said, pointing. Among the crowd of students spilling out of the train, Sirius spotted Harry’s untidy hair. He experienced a leap of joy that he tried to conceal beneath his unusual disinterested expression.
“Uncle Padfoot!” Harry called when he caught sight of them, his face breaking into a grin. “Uncle Moony!” He bounded over and threw his arms around Sirius, and for a moment, Sirius forgot himself and hugged Harry back, pulling his thin shoulders tight against his body. When he released him, Harry embraced Remus, and Sirius took the time to gather himself. After Harry pulled away from Remus, he turned to his left, and Sirius realized another boy stood beside him, red-haired and wearing too-short robes.
“This is your family?” the boy asked.
Harry nodded. “This is my family.”
The words filled Sirius with a warm glow, and he beamed. He couldn’t help it.