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Remus was no stranger to silence. He’d lived most of his young life in it, after he was bitten. Growing up in silence might have been sad, had he known any better, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until he got to Hogwarts that he realized how silent silence really was. James was loud, and Sirius was the loudest person Remus had ever met. The two of them together? A disaster half the time and a mess the other half.
Remus didn’t mind though, since it meant getting out of the silence a bit. James and Sirius were loud, and the common room was loud, and he got to be a part of it all. Birthdays, Quidditch matches, muggle music, all times when Remus’ life was loud.
Sometimes he still sought out the silence. In those times he’d go outside with Peter, or to the library with Lily, and they would read or play wizard’s chess, or just be in each others’ presence.
Starting on November 1st, 1981 the silence felt different. It wasn’t comforting, it wasn’t peaceful, it was loud. It was buzzing in his ears, it was learning Sirius, the love of his life, had betrayed them to Voldemort. It was Peter, Lily, and James dying. It was Harry going to live with his horrible muggle family.
It was oppressive, and cold, and Remus hated it. He missed the sound of Lily turning pages in whatever book she was reading. He missed losing wizard’s chess to Peter. He missed James snoring. Most of all though, something he hated himself for, he missed Sirius. He missed waking up next to him. He missed his eyes. He missed his laugh, and how he hated tea, and how his shoes were always untied.
Something he missed the most? The letters. There were so many, dating back to that first Christmas of first year all the way until they graduated. There were little notes too. Left on pillows, kitchen tables, dressers, any other surface Remus or Sirius thought the other would see it on.
Remus didn’t know where they went, lost to moving and time and sadness. Just like everything else. Lost, but never forgotten. He wished he still had them. Wished he had the letters, the notes, the presents, the clothes. No more band t-shirts, magazines, records. He had the record player, the one thing of Sirius’ he’d managed to keep, but the records were new.
His copy of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust had been bought by Remus in a charity shop, not Sirius in a record store. His new copy of The Dark Side of the Moon had never watched Sirius dance around the room, pulling Remus up even when he was trying to finish his History of Magic homework. A Night at the Opera had never had Sirius repeat You’re My Best Friend over and over again until James threw a pillow at him to make him let the record continue to the next song.
He could still remember what some of the notes and letters said. He quoted them to himself at night when he stared at the ceiling in the dark. And then, when he had no one else to talk to but the moon and the stars and the wind across the window, he wrote new letters.
Dear Padfoot,
James and Lily are dead. Peter is dead. You’re gone, but I miss you every day. I know you’re gone, and never coming back, but you didn’t even get a trial. I fought for you. I wrote to Dumbledore every day. I would have written to others, members of the Wizengamot, but we both know they would never listen to me. I promise, I tried. You have to believe me, that I tried. I know you would never betray us, this has to be a setup. The muggles saw wrong, they didn’t know you. They didn’t know how loyal, brave, and true you are. You would never hurt any of us, but most of all James. Why would you? We’re your family.
I love you, Padfoot. Please don’t forget that. I’ll always love you, and wish I could get you back.
Yours,
Moony
It took Remus two months to really believe it. How could Sirius, of all people, betray his friends? His family? Remus? There was no way. It had to be a setup, a misunderstanding. The muggles saw something wrong, were tricked, Sirius would never betray them. And then, when he finally believed it, he got angry.
Padfoot,
I miss you. The Wizarding World has moved on, but I haven’t. I miss you, and there’s nothing I can do. Maybe I have to face the truth, that Peter is dead and you’re the one in Azkaban and if that’s the case then why would it all be a lie?
How could you? How could you betray us, betray me? When did you stop loving me? When did you give up on us? Why did you do it? Was it all a lie?
Why did you make me love you, only to break my heart?
Moony
For two years, Remus mourned. He mourned the loss of his friends, the loss of laughter, the loss of his life as he knew it. He mourned Sirius, even if he wasn’t really dead.
Padfoot,
I miss James. I miss Lily, I miss Peter, I wish I could talk to them. James would tell me how to fix it, Lily would hug me, and Peter would… Well, he would pat my shoulder awkwardly. I miss it. I never thought the war would tear us apart like this. Any of us.
I miss laughing. I miss our friends. I miss smoke breaks and Friday night drinking and reading my book while you did everything you could to distract me.
I miss you. It’s terrible, but you were such a big part of my life. I miss you, more than I should. I miss you, even though I should hate you.
Why don’t I hate you?
Moony
For four years after that, Remus hated himself. He hated himself for still loving Sirius, for not going to visit Lily and James’ graves, for not going and making Dumbledore give Harry to him instead of the muggles.
Padfoot,
I haven’t gone to Godric’s Hollow. It’s your fault, it’s my fault, I don’t know. It’s Dumbledore’s fault, not that that makes sense.
I still love you. Isn’t that terrible? You broke my heart, shattered my world, killed my friends. They were the only family I had, and you knew that. They were your only family too.
You never said anything. Not that that would make sense. Did I miss the signs? Were you pulling away, and I was just too stupid, too in love, to see what was right in front of me?
I should hate you. I should hate you for everything, but instead I still love you, and hate myself.
Why do I still love you?
Moony
For six years after that, Remus struggled. He struggled to hold down a job, he struggled to move on, he struggled to exist in a world without his friends. He struggled with the same silence he used to crave.
Padfoot,
I can’t tell if you’d ever care. I know you’ll never read these, never see how I’m doing. But I’m back to the way I started. Before Hogwarts, before you, before my life changed for the better. I can’t hold down a job, too taken up by grief and sorrow and the whole ‘being a werewolf’ thing to work.
I live in the muggle world now. The wizarding world is hostile, more now than it ever was. And just to top it off, everything in that world reminds me of you, and James, and Lily, and Peter. I can’t handle it, I can’t exist in this.
No matter where I go, the ghost of you remains. It pulls me, it takes me, it drowns me. I love you, and you broke my heart. You didn’t love me, or you lost your love somewhere along the way. I’ll never know, so instead I'll make it up.
Why can’t I do this without you?
Moony
Remus spent twelve years alone. He spent twelve years writing letters, until his drawers were overflowing with them. He spent twelve years looking up at Sirius in the night sky and wishing he could see Sirius the person instead, and then hating himself for wanting that. He had made peace, at some point, with the ghost of himself, forever intertwined with the ghost of a man who’d maybe never loved him.
Until Peter Pettigrew showed up on the map. The Marauders Map didn’t make mistakes, Remus knew that because he created it himself. He’d done all the spells, all the plans, and he knew there was no way Peter Pettigrew would show up on that map if he wasn’t really there.
The fact that one of his best friends had seemingly come back from the dead while the other one had escaped prison really put a hold on anything else Remus had been thinking about. Why would Peter fake his own death?
Remus had thought, maybe foolishly, that seeing Sirius after twelve years of solitude wouldn’t affect him. He’d thought that maybe, somehow, without him realizing it, he’d managed to move on.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
It was stupid, really, to think he could see Sirius again and feel nothing other than love, regret, sadness, and mourning. He’d been standing there, closer than Remus had ever thought he’d get again, in the flesh, not just in his mind. It was like a dream, except in his dreams there were fevered kisses and ministry pardons and happily ever afters.
Instead, Remus got Snape, Peter, and turning into a werewolf to top it all off. Not ideal, to say the least.
The worst part of it all, Remus hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. Sirius was off into the night on Buckbeak before the full moon set and the sun rose, meaning he was gone and Remus was alone. Again. In that same loud silence that had plagued him for twelve long years.
Instead, he went back to writing his letters. Except they changed, because Remus could do nothing but apologize, and he knew Sirius would never read them.
Dear Padfoot,
I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have ever turned my back on you, how could I have ever believed you’d desert us like that. I should have fought for you, I should have gotten them to give you a fair trial, I should have done anything I could to save you.
I didn’t save you, and I should’ve. I didn’t save Lily and James, and I should’ve. I didn’t even save myself. Why didn’t I? I’m the one who survived, and I didn’t do anything with it. I was the free one, and I did nothing to deserve it. Call it what you want, survivors' guilt maybe? All I know is that nothing I could ever say would fix what I’ve done.
Could you ever forgive me?
Moony
They hadn’t spoken since that night. Not that Remus had expected to, really. Sirius was on the run, and most people would probably figure Remus would be his first call. So, they stayed apart. Every so often he’d receive a letter from Dumbledore, updating him on what was going on. He never used the same owl twice, so every time Remus would rush to open the window just to see it wasn’t Sirius.
Instead, it was Dumbledore telling him about Harry. That he was at the Burrow, then how he was competing in the Triwizard Tournament. That was the last letter he received. Remus spent more time pacing than he did anything else, after that letter. Was Harry alive? Was he okay? Questions, thoughts, and worst case scenarios bounced around his head. The outward silence was still there, but inside his head wasn’t silent at all. It was louder than ever, with everything up there.
The school year was coming to a close, and Remus was starting to go crazy. Alone in his shitty house in the middle of Wales, with nothing to do except stare out the window and hope someone would come along and either give him some news or put him out of his misery. He didn’t really mind which one.
Remus was just settling down with a cup of tea and the same book he’d already read four times when there was a soft scuffling noise at the door. He, quite honestly, thought he’d imagined it at first. It wouldn’t be the first time (or the last) his imagination had fabricated someone knocking on the door.
It wasn’t until it happened again that Remus got up. He grabbed his wand, and held it out as he looked out the peephole. No one was there, and Remus deflated. Of course no one was there, why would they be? How would they have gotten through the defense charms? What would be serious enough for Dumbledore to share his location?
He was shaking his head at his stupidity, about to walk away from the door and back to his book, when he heard it again.
He’d lived through a war, he knew better than to open the door to nothing, but he did it anyway. On the other side of the door, was a dog. A dog who turned into Sirius Black.
“Sirius,” Remus breathed.
“Hi, Remus.”
Sirius, despite being on the run for a year and imprisoned for twelve before that, looked amazing. He was dirty, and needed a shower, but he was familiar. He was the same boy he’d fallen in love with, thirteen years later.
The first time he’d seen Sirius, a year ago, he’d been too distracted to fully take him in. He’d been a little preoccupied, what with finding out Peter had been the one to kill their friends and Sirius had been innocent the whole time.
This time there was nothing and no one standing in their way. He was right there, in the flesh. Not a hallucination, or a dream, or a ghost. If Remus stepped forward he’d be in arm’s reach.
Realizing they were standing awkwardly in the doorway, Remus stepped back and ushered Sirius inside.
“I’m sorry it’s such a mess,” Remus said. He could feel his ears turning pink as he rushed around to right some of the things in the room. His bed wasn’t made, dishes in the sink, and there were an embarrassing number of used tea cups on the coffee table.
“I’ve been sleeping in a cave until last night,” Sirius chuckled. It was hollow, but his eyes brightened with that teasing look that made Remus’ eyes cloudy with unshed tears. It was too familiar, too close to their history. “This looks like heaven compared to that.”
“Okay,” Remus’ voice faltered. “Well, come in. Can I get you anything?” He busied himself going into the kitchen, going to get a mug but reaching into an empty cupboard. Right. He got a glass instead, filling it with water and downing it all before setting the empty cup on the counter. The noise echoed a bit, making both Sirius and Remus flinch.
“Do you have any food?” Sirius was still standing in the doorway, awkwardly looking around Remus’ one room house. The last time he and Sirius had been in a living space together it had been their shared flat in London. They’d had posters on the walls, a record player perpetually playing something. There was colour, and noise, and everything else that Remus’ house lacked.
“Um, yeah, I think so,” Remus nearly stumbled over his own feet in his haste to get to the pantry, but he righted himself. He hoped Sirius didn’t see, but he didn’t look at him to find out. It wasn’t until he had a loaf of bread and a knife in his hands that he realized he was shaking.
“It’s not a lot,” Remus said when he held out a cheese sandwich to Sirius. “I’m sorry, I don’t really have very much.”
“It’s okay,” Sirius answered. He still hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Thanks.”
“You can come in, if you want,” Remus said. He tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure if it came across as one. It felt more like a grimace on his face.
“Oh, right,” Sirius looked around, as if he didn’t realize he was still in the entryway. He stepped into the room more, and took a seat at the table. His movements were stiff, like he had spent so much time as a dog he was having to relearn how to be a person again.
Remus went to the coffee table to get his tea, and then sat down at the kitchen table with Sirius. They sat in silence as Sirius finished his sandwich and Remus drank his tea. It was a new silence, somehow. It wasn’t buzzing but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was a weird in between.
Remus had so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t say any of it. He bit his tongue, trying to stop himself from blurting out something stupid, like ‘I love you’.
“What are you doing here,” He asked instead.
“Dumbledore told me to come here,” Sirius said. He was eating the crumbs off the plate, so Remus got up to make him another sandwich. “I figured he’d tell you I was coming, but based on the shock on your face I’m assuming he didn’t?”
His voice faltered at the end, and he looked almost nervous. His gaze was flitting around the room, and Remus wondered what he was seeing. Did he see the broken window? The full ashtray? The blue blanket Remus knitted in fourth year for him? The burn mark on the duvet cover where he dropped his cigarette.
His eyes didn’t settle on anything, and Remus thought he was in the clear, until his gaze stalled on Remus’ bed. That blanket was the only thing he still had, the only reminder of the life they shared together.
Sirius didn’t comment on it, but Remus noticed his slight face and mood change. Most people might not, but Remus had been his friend for four years and then his boyfriend for seven.
His eyes turned down to the floor, his left canine sunk into his bottom lip. He slow blinked, the sign he was tired, but he didn’t say anything. He was sad. He was thinking about the past. He was struggling not to say anything then.
“Tired?” Remus phrased it as a question, but the way Sirius’ head snapped up to look at him told him everything he had to know. Sirius knew Remus could read him like a book, but Sirius could read Remus too. He saw how he scratched the back of his neck, how his gaze was focused on Sirius but a bit misty.
Remus was scared, not that he’d say that. He wasn’t afraid of Sirius, never of Sirius. No, heHe was sad because of their complicated situation.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, I’m sorry to show up unannounced. I can leave, just say the word and I’ll go.”
“No,” Remus said, maybe a little too quickly, a little too forcefully. “It’s okay, you can stay.”
“Thanks.” The small on Sirius’ face was small but happy. Remus saw it, and wanted to make that smile appear again. He would do anything to make him smile, like he used to.
“You can sleep on my bed,” Remus turned to Sirius. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Sirius was shaking his head before Remus even finished his sentence. “No, definitely not. I’m not taking your bed away, I’m already taking your food and your time.”
“Don’t be silly, Sirius. You need the bed more than I do, please. Just take it.”
Sirius shook his head, looking right at Remus. “I won’t, I’m going to sleep on the sofa.”
“Fine,” Remus sighed. “I’ll get some blankets. You can have one of the pillows off my bed, I don’t have any extras.”
Sirius nodded but didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything left to say. Sirius was there, and it was weird, and thirteen years had passed. But at the end of the day, under all the change and heartbreak and growth, they were the same boys they were at 11, at 15, at 21.
Remus couldn’t tell if Sirius still loved him, couldn’t tell if Askaban had pushed any feelings out of him, but he hoped it hadn’t. Selfishly, he hoped Sirius still loved him.
They got ready for bed in silence. Sirius went to the toilet while Remus brushed his teeth and then they switched. Remus drank an entire glass of water, and then Sirius did the same.
The silence was charged, so unlike any silence Remus had ever been used to, with a buzzing there but not as loud. He wasn’t sure which silence he preferred, between that lonely one and the new one. He wanted the old Hogwarts one back, craved it more than he craved cigarettes and chocolate.
Remus’ cigarettes were on his bedside table, and he pulled one out of the package and lit it with a lighter. He inhaled, eyes closed, and then opened them as he exhaled. His eyes flitted to Sirius, almost unconsciously, and he was already looking at him.
“Want one?” Remus asked, holding it out before he had the chance to respond.
Sirius didn’t say anything as he took it, and Remus watched his eyes flutter shut as he inhaled. Remus could see the calming effects, the familiar motions of something they’d done together for years.
They finished their cigarettes in silence, neither one of them wanting to break whatever tranquility they’d created. It wasn’t comfortable, not yet at least, but it was theirs.
Sirius clearly didn’t want to speak, and Remus didn’t want to force him. His eyes didn’t stray from Remus, like he was taking in this new version of him. The version that didn’t really know Sirius at all. The version that wanted, more than anything else, to know him again.
“You look so different,” Sirius said, breaking the silence. You look older hung in the room around them. Neither of them said it, because it was a stupid thing to say, but they were both thinking it.
Somehow, along the way, they’d both grown up. Their hair had greyed a bit, their scars had multiplied. Their frown lines were more prominent than their smile lines, possibly the biggest change of them all. Sirius’ tattoos were lighter, from thirteen years of being forgotten.
But underneath it all, he was the same Sirius. He was the same Sirius, and Remus was the same Remus, and instead of thinking about that anymore he lit another cigarette. He handed one to Sirius, who leaned forward slightly to light it before leaning back in his chair again.
The chair squeaked as they got up, dishes clinked together as Remus put his empty cup on Sirius’ empty plate and put them in the sink. Little noises, ones Remus wasn’t used to. He could hear Sirius’ steps on the creaky floorboards, could hear the couch groan when he sat on it. The blanket Remus had found in the back of his closet rustled while Sirius got comfortable.
“Do you need anything else,” Remus asked. He hoped Sirius couldn’t hear how his voice shook.
“No thank you,” Sirius spoke softly and shook his head. He was looking at the floor, refusing to look at Remus. “Thank you, for this. You didn’t have to let me stay.”
“Of course I did,” Remus answered, just as quiet. “Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Sirius didn’t say anything, just laid his head on the pillow Remus had taken off his bed and closed his eyes. He was wearing one of Remus’ jumpers, one he’d bought at a thrift store a year or so ago. It was big on Remus, and it was so baggy on Sirius he looked like he was drowning in it.
Remus did his best to not think about how cute he looked. If he squinted he could pretend they were back in their Gryffindor dorm room, Sirius wearing the jumper he’d bought Remus, as if it belonged to him. Back when what was Sirius’ was Remus’, and Remus’ was Sirius’. Back before everything blew up.
Remus turned away and got into his bed, turning off the light as he did. The room was plunged into darkness, except for a faint light of the moon outside the window. It was too dark for Remus to make out anything specific, but he didn’t miss when Sirius transformed into Padfoot, or when his breathing evened out, or when his quiet snuffling turned into noises of panic in his sleep. It took everything in Remus not to go comfort him, pull him into his lap and hold him like he used to, when he still had nightmares about his parents.
It wasn’t his place, not anymore. Instead, Remus alternated between staring at the ceiling and staring at Padfoot’s outline, vowing to keep him safe, no matter what. He’d do anything he could, to make sure Sirius was okay again.
~~~
The next morning, Remus made tea. He didn’t have any coffee, or a coffee maker, so Sirius drank tea too. If it had been thirteen years before, Sirius would have complained until he was blue in the face while Remus rolled his eyes. They would have kissed, and then Sirius would have forgotten what he was complaining about.
Not anymore, though. The new Sirius drank the tea, with way more sugar than Remus thought was healthy.
At some point, as the sun was moving over the house, Sirius went over to the record player. His fingers brushed the records, scanning to see which ones Remus had. He wondered if Sirius knew that they weren’t the originals, or if he thought these copies were the same ones they’d listened to thirteen years before.
“Your collection is smaller.” It’s not a question, just a statement, made by someone who knows - or knew, at least - Remus by heart. Knew his favourite songs, his favourite foods, his favourite lyrics and chords and albums.
“A lot of them, most of them really, got lost in one move or another,” Remus shrugged. He tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but they both knew the truth. Sirius winced, almost like he’d been stung. It sounded, to Remus’ ears, that what he was really saying was that Sirius got lost in a move.
It wasn’t wrong, technically. With each move, Remus left more and more of Sirius behind. First his records, and then his clothes, and then his letters, and more and more until the only thing that was left was his memory, forever etched on Remus’ skin. The one thing he couldn’t leave behind.
Neither of them commented on it, but they both knew the reason the collection was smaller was because it was missing Sirius’ records. Not the ones they bought together, but the more eclectic mix. Things he’d found in muggle charity shops, ones whose names Remus lost to time.
In silence, Sirius reached out and pulled one of the records off the shelf. Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” filled the air, making Remus smile more than he would have expected. He settled down on the armchair, while Remus watched him from the sofa. The blanket Sirius had slept under was thrown over the back of the sofa, Remus’ pillow had ended up on the floor at some point.
Remus’ book lay forgotten on the coffee table where he’d abandoned it the previous night. Sirius followed his gaze to it, and then looked back at Remus.
“You don’t have to do anything special just because I’m here,” Sirius said. “It’s okay, just do what you normally do. I can entertain myself, Remus.”
In the Flesh? ended, and Remus was quiet as The Thin Ice began. He looked between Sirius and his book, conflicted with what to do. On the one hand, he believed Sirius. He wanted to do things like normal, read books, listen to music, and not feel like he was letting down someone who he’d loved forever.
On the other hand, he knew that after thirteen years away, this had to be a huge adjustment for Sirius. He wanted to be there for him, help him through this confusing time and make sure he knew he had the support he needed.
“Please, Remus,” Sirius said. He started to reach towards Remus but then thought better of it and pulled his arm back. “I just want some semblance of normal.”
Remus nodded, maybe too forcefully, and picked up his book from the table. Sirius watched him as he opened it, unfolded the dog ear on the page, and set about reading. Remus could feel his eyes on him, and it was creating that swooping sensation in his gut he hadn’t felt in thirteen years. Was Sirius feeling it too?
Without realizing it, he started reading aloud. It was almost a habit, something he’d done when they were at Hogwarts. Sirius didn’t like to read, but he liked listening to Remus. It had always been a win-win for them. Remus got to read, and Sirius got to listen. Oftentimes back then, the listening would delve into distraction and then into kissing on Remus’ bed, but that was not an option anymore.
Sirius deserved more than a man who’d given up hope. Sirius deserved someone as brave as him. Most of all, Sirius deserved someone who wouldn’t give up on him, no matter what. Fourteen years ago, that would have been Sirius. But time, and anger, and frustration had seeped in somewhere along the way, making Remus bitter and sad and Sirius traumatized and shaking.
As Remus read chapter 8 of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe aloud, Sirius closed his eyes. He looked peaceful, with the daylight streaming in over his cheekbones, nothing like the man who sat before Remus with his overly sugary tea and his desperate need for food. This Sirius could’ve been seventeen again, except for the scars and bumps and bruises.
Neither of them moved, or said anything, or changed positions as Remus read. The sun started to set as they sat there, and Remus’ tea got cold. Pages were turned, the record continued to play softly into the room. They never switched records, so Pink Floyd echoed in Remus’ ears for the rest of the night.
As the sun finally dipped down and only left moonlight behind, Remus looked up from the pages to see Sirius, transformed into Padfoot, asleep on the armchair. He was curled in on himself, nose pressed into his tail.
It was such a familiar view, Remus couldn’t stop the strangled noise coming out of his throat. It was too similar to their school days, when Sirius would fall asleep as Padfoot anywhere except his own bed.
That view, with those memories swirling around in his head, was the last straw. Tears streamed down Remus’ face, cutting tracks through his scars. He’d always been an ugly crier, and this was no different. He moved away, locking himself in the toilet to avoid accidentally waking up Sirius.
Remus had always been a crier. He hadn’t meant to be, but when life got overwhelming he cried. He’d cried more in the last thirteen years than he cared to admit, but somehow this time was the worst. His tears streamed down faster than he could wipe them up, and they fell down onto the toilet seat as he dry-heaved.
He didn’t notice any change, didn’t notice that he didn’t close the door behind him, until he felt a wet nose on the hand he was using to hold himself up. A very blurry Padfoot was standing in front of him.
The first thing that Remus registered was that it was the closest they’d been since that night in the Shrieking Shack. The second was that he was ugly crying still, in front of his ex boyfriend who he was still very much in love with but who he could not get a read on.
Remus watched as Padfoot sat down on the floor, and then laid down. He rested his head on Remus’ leg, and Remus instinctively reached out to pet him. His sobs, which had been calming down, heightened again as he thought about how often they had been in this exact position before.
Neither of them said anything, as Remus continued to cry. They stayed in silence as he cried, and then as they got up, and then as they separated to sleep.
~~~
After that first day, they didn’t discuss what happened. They settled into a weird familiarity, where they didn’t talk about anything important, and instead listened to music and read. Remus was pretty sure he’d lose his voice eventually, but he didn’t care.
They didn’t talk about anything of importance, but Remus has resigned himself to the fact that Sirius may never be ready to do that. Remus didn’t miss the way Sirius stared out the window, or into the fireplace, or just at the ceiling. It was so clear to him that this was only the shell of the Sirius Black he remembered, and Remus wished he could figure out where the rest of him went.
He couldn’t actually write his letters anymore, but they wrote themselves on the insides of his eyelids at night.
Dear Padfoot,
I can’t believe it. You’re right there, in the same room as me, and yet you’re still so far away. I don’t know what to tell you, I don’t know what to say, and I wish I did. I wish a lot of things, mostly for you but some for me too I suppose.
I wish you’d talk to me. I wish you’d look at me, I wish you’d let me help you.
I miss you.
Moony
He let Sirius pick what they listened to. He let him pick the stories they read. Remus found himself, just like he had before, letting Sirius take over every little part of his life he wanted to. In another universe, maybe that would hurt more. Or maybe it would hurt less. But in this universe, Remus was okay with the pain.
The love of his life, his best friend, his person, had spent twelve years in prison and then one year in hiding, while Remus had done what? Nothing. He’d cried, and felt sorry for himself, and mourned. But he’d still had all of these things. He had music, and books, and warm blankets and hot tea and warm food. He would spend an eternity giving Sirius everything he could ever want, since he had him back.
They read The Chronicles of Narnia , and then The Lord of the Rings , all soundtracked by whatever Sirius wanted to listen to. It was a bit of a weird mix, but Remus didn’t mind. Sirius still had the same music taste, not that that was surprising, but it was interesting to Remus to see what he gravitated towards more than others.
Remus’ copy of " A Night at the Opera" , the one that had never had Sirius replay You’re My Best Friend over and over again, remained untouched. It wasn’t that Sirius hadn’t seen it, because that was nearly impossible. It sat on the shelf, nearly haunting Remus.
A lot of things haunted Remus. That blanket that he’d kept, that Sirius kept looking at. The silence they shared, that felt so familiar and yet so foreign it made Remus ache. Sirius, the very real person in front of him. He wasn’t a ghost anymore, or a hallucination, or a dream. He was there, sitting in his house.
Instead of thinking about it, Remus just kept reading. " The R ise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust" was playing softly through the room as Remus read, a disjointed soundtrack to C.S. Lewis’ words. The Pevensie children were just getting ready to leave Cair Paravel when Sirius interrupted.
“These muggle stories are really something,” He said. He was lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Remus might have thought he was asleep, except that he refused to sleep as Sirius, choosing instead to sleep as Padfoot. Remus figured it was a coping mechanism, so he didn’t comment on it.
“What do you mean,” Remus asked instead. Sirius paused, almost hesitant to respond. Remus realized it was because he was thinking about what he wanted to say, rather than just jumping in headfirst. Another thing that had changed somewhere along the way.
“They’re just so…” Sirius trailed off, thinking before he spoke again. “They’re so alike to life.” He didn’t elaborate, but the words echoed in Remus’ head as he continued to read aloud.
Moonage Daydream played as Lucy wished the trees would talk to her, were alive, like they had been the last time she’d visited Narnia. Five Years played as Lucy saw Aslan and none of the others believed her. Neither of them had gotten up to switch sides on the record, so they listened to Side One again.
The chapter ended as Soul Love played again, prompting Sirius to sit up. He stretched a bit, and Remus couldn’t help but look when his shirt rode up exposing some of the ink on his stomach. Remus looked away when Sirius caught him looking, unable to hide the pink dusting his cheeks. He thought he could see Sirius mirroring that blush, maybe even a tiny smirk, but he couldn’t be sure.
Sirius got up fully to change sides, and then hesitated. He was looking towards the kitchen, almost longingly, but didn’t say anything. Remus had noticed that, how he seemed to almost feel bad for asking for anything. It was a bit weird to Remus, being on the receiving end of that when he’d spent most of his late teens and early twenties feeling bad receiving anything from Sirius.
“Do you want some dinner?” Remus asked tentatively. The look of relief on Sirius’ face was hard to ignore, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He knew that’s what he wanted.
“Yes please,” Sirius said. Remus got up, and Sirius followed him into the kitchen. They didn’t speak as Remus made them something to eat, and Sirius didn’t complain when it was the same soup they’d been eating for days already.
They ate in silence, the only sounds were the tinkle of silverware and chewing. It was weird, because once upon a time none of their time would have been this silent. It would have been quiet, maybe, but never this ghostly. Remus drafted a letter to Sirius again, and watched as it wrote itself on the table as he ate.
Dear Padfoot,
When you talked about the Pevensie children were you thinking the same as I was? How they went back to Narnia, just like you came back to me? How different Narnia was since they’d been there before, and yet so familiar? I didn’t think a book like Prince Caspian could make me think this much, but I am. Am I different and familiar to you, like you are to me? Like Cair Paravel was to them?
Do you also ache inside, to have what we had back?
Moony
After they were done and Remus cast a charm on the dishes to wash themselves, Sirius lit a cigarette and sat down at the window. It was raining out, and Remus could see their reflections in the glass. Sirius looked down at his own hands as he smoked, and Remus takes the opportunity again to watch him.
Reflection-Sirius was as ghostly as Dream-Sirius, but Remus could see the real Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Real Sirius was warm, familiar, and three dimensional. Real Sirius was a person, someone who smelled like cigarette smoke and Remus’ shampoo and peanut butter, because it was most of their diet at that point.
Reflection-Sirius was cold, and damp, and sad in that way old muggle paintings were sad. Forlorn, pulled down by weight the artist didn’t put on the page. Reflection-Sirius, and Dream-Sirius, were something Remus had half created in his head. A coping mechanism, no matter how terrible a coping mechanism it was.
Sirius and Remus sat at the window for a while, as Sirius finished the first cigarette and lit another. Remus lit his own too, and they smoked in silence. It felt like a big deal. Smoking together had been their thing, a way for them to sneak away together on their own, and there they were all those years later, still smoking together.
Without talking, Sirius started to smile a bit. Remus watched Sirius’ reflection, and then when he saw it he could barely believe it, so he looked at Real-Sirius and sure enough, he was smiling too. It was small, but it was there, and Remus felt like that was a big deal.
“What is it,” He asked, trying not to make a big deal of it, but Sirius was smiling and he was looking at Remus, and he was almost laughing, and Remus wanted to know what was putting all that emotion back into his face.
“Do you remember that day, in fifth year, when I caught you with that cigarette?”
Remus smiled, mostly against his will. He didn’t even realize it was happening, as he thought back to that day himself. “You were so mad at me,” He chuckled.
“I’d been telling you for months I wanted to smoke, and then I found out you’d been doing it the whole time,” Sirius exclaimed.
“You also sucked at it,” Remus grinned.
“You loved it,” Sirius grinned. The smile faltered slightly, when he realized what he’d said. They’d been skirting around the topic, never acknowledging what they’d been to each other.
It tore Remus up inside, but he’d vowed, when he found out Sirius was innocent, to be whatever he needed. A friend, a stranger, a boyfriend. He didn’t care, as long as Sirius got what he needed.
“It was raining that day,” Sirius said. Remus nodded. “I used to watch you in the window, you know. When it rained.”
Remus nodded. He’d known, of course. “You coughed so much you nearly fainted.”
“We never did tell James why we were laughing so hard, did we?”
Neither of them had to answer the question, so it just hung in the air between them like a cloud. It twisted in with their cigarette smoke, twisting up towards the ceiling. The smile was still there, but it was haunted. Their ghosts were still there, the dead ones and the living. James, Lily, Peter. Dorcas, Marlene, Mary.
“Sirius,” Remus said quietly. His cigarette was just a filter, and the fire was starting to flicker on his fingers, so he set it in the ashtray. Sirius looked at him, actually him and not the reflection. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Remus to speak. Another change.
“Please, sleep in the bed. You need to, sleeping on the couch is bad for your back. Please.” Remus didn’t say it, but just like everything else that was unspoken, it hung around them. Remus didn’t think he deserved the bed, after Sirius living thirteen years without one. Sirius needed it more than him, and he was determined to make him realize that.
Sirius didn’t say anything, but he shook his head. “I’ve said it already, Remus. I’m not taking your bed. You need it just as much as I do.”
Remus sighed. He knew he’d lost, Sirius would never give in, but he didn’t have to like the answer. He lit another cigarette instead of responding.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the night, but the silence wasn’t all that bad. It still wasn’t the same as it was, it felt charged, buzzing around in Remus’ skull. But it was better than it had been, and that was good enough for Remus.
That night, when Remus was all tucked into bed and dozing into sleep, he was awoken by movement. He listened as Padfoot jumped down from the couch, his paws clacking on the hardwood floors. He held his breath as the noise got louder, until it stopped. The bed dipped, the telltale sign that Padfoot had jumped up.
He curled up by Remus’ feet, not quite on his legs but close enough he could feel his warmth through the covers. Remus didn’t move, too worried about disturbing him. He waited until Padfoot was snoring before tilting up his head.
Sure enough, a black dog was lying, asleep, next to him.
They didn’t mention it, even when they woke up with Padfoot’s head on Remus’ knee and Remus’ fingers in Padfoot’s fur. He never went back to sleeping on the couch. They always started out the night with space, and woke up without it.
It was familiar, and that was something Remus wouldn’t take for granted ever again.
~~~
Dear Padfoot,
It’s been two weeks. Can you believe it? I can’t. We haven’t spoken, not really. I wish we could. I wish you would open up to me. Maybe that’s not fair, maybe I shouldn’t ask that of you, which is why I haven’t. I haven’t opened up to you, so why should you.
I’m scared. I’m scared you’re one second, one sentence, one wrong move from remembering I thought you were a traitor. We’re at a good place now, I think, better than it was before at least. I don’t want to ruin it. Nights are warmer with you. Days are warmer with you.
Moony
Words wrote themselves on the ceiling as he laid in bed. The sun was out, he could see it spilling through the curtains onto his covers. It was casting a halo around Padfoot, still asleep next to him. One of his paws was thrown over Remus’ leg, and he was twitching a little bit.
He looked peaceful asleep, in a way he wasn’t awake. It had always been like that, even before he was an animagi. Remus was glad that that, at least, hadn’t changed.
Remus stayed quiet, observing Sirius while he got the chance, until his nose started snuffling and he started shifting. The mornings, when they woke up close to each other, they never acknowledged it. Padfoot got up and went into the toilet, and when he appeared again he was Sirius.
After Remus took his turn in the toilet he walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Sirius was at the stove, cooking something that smelled delicious, and “The Dark Side of the Moon” was playing softly in the background. If Remus could count on one thing, it was Sirius’ need to have a musical soundtrack.
Side two played - Sirius’ favourite side - and Remus moved around Sirius, setting some water to boil and pulling tea and coffee out of the cupboard.
“I need to tell you something,” Remus blurted out at the same time Sirius said, “Can I ask you something?”
They both chuckled, and Sirius shook his head. “You first.”
Remus could feel his palms sweating, so he rubbed them on his trousers. He’d never felt that nervous before, not before Sirius knew how he felt, or when he told him he loved him, not even during the war.
“When you were gone,” Remus’ voice faltered thinking about it, and he shook his head trying to keep himself in the present. He tried again. “When you were gone, I missed you a lot.”
Sirius opened his mouth, seemingly to answer, but Remus held out a hand before he could speak. “Please wait,” He pleaded. “I need to get this out.”
“Sure,” Sirius nodded, taking a sip of his tea instead.
“So, I missed you a lot. I had a lot of feelings, conflicting ones,” He trailed off. He was trying not to ramble, but he wasn’t sure if he was succeeding. Sirius was following, sitting quietly and listening intently.
Remus had never loved him more. It washed over him, like a warm summer’s day or a cup of hot chocolate.
“I wrote you letters, tons of them. More than you could ever read, probably, but if you want to, you could read them.” Remus stopped talking, searching Sirius’ gaze for any sign. “You don’t have to, and please know that they’re not always the most friendly things, but I think it would make you understand… Some things.”
Sirius didn’t even hesitate before nodding. “I’ll read them. Remus, of course I’ll read them.”
Remus nodded too, and then got up to pull the box out of his closet. They both move to the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, their unfinished breakfast forgotten. Remus takes his tea, mostly as something to do, but Sirius left his coffee behind.
Sirius picked one up from the bottom. The paper was yellowing, a clear sign it was an older one. The ink on the part Remus could see was a bit faded, and he couldn’t make out what it said.
Sirius read, a look of concentration on his face. When he finished it he picked up another, and another, and another. They were clearly not in any order, just random through the years. Some were clearly newer, their ink hadn’t had as much time to fade, and some were older. He could see tear marks on one, and watched as Sirius trailed his fingers over it delicately.
After the fourth or fifth one Sirius’ eyes started to fog, and by the ninth tears were falling, mixing with the dried tears on the paper from years before.
They sat in silence as Sirius read, and at some point Sirius leaned his foot over to rest against Remus’ leg. It was so subtle it could’ve been an accident, but Remus was sure it wasn’t.
Sirius didn’t look at him until the eleventh one. He finished reading it, and then looked up to meet Remus’ gaze.
“I miss them too.” Sirius’ voice was full of emotion as he looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears. It wasn’t working, and instead they just rolled down his cheeks and off his chin.
“I miss them more than I ever thought possible, more than I missed anything else. All that time… I thought about them so much. I thought about all of you, everything I lost. I lost so much of myself, I didn’t know how to carry on.
“It’s all my fault, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I can’t turn back time, I can’t ask for a do over. They’re dead, and I killed them. I’m so sorry, Remus. Please, just know. I’m so so so sorry.”
By the end of his monologue he was sobbing, and Remus moved to hug him instinctively. He froze, wondering if it was too much. Would he want him to move away? Sirius didn’t move, so Remus didn’t either.
“No, Padfoot. That’s not on you, not at all, okay? You had no way of knowing he was the spy, there was no way you could have predicted that. You did what you thought was best, and no one faults you for that.”
When Remus pulled away, he expected to see more tears and red cheeks and heartbreak in his eyes. But instead, Sirius was smiling. It was the first real smile since he’d been back, and it was infectious. Remus found himself smiling without realizing it, and his voice had a bit of a laugh in it.
“What is it? Why are you smiling?”
“You called me Padfoot. You hadn’t done that before.”
“I hadn’t?”
“No, you hadn’t.” Sirius paused. “I missed it.”
“I missed you.”
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
They both fell asleep on the couch that night, Remus curling himself around Padfoot under the light of the moon and stars.
~~~
“What’s your favourite colour?”
The question cut through "Loaded" by The Velvet Underground as it played for the tenth time, causing Remus to snort and Sirius to turn to look at him. They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, watching a stupid on Remus’ muggle TV. It was one of the only non-Dumbledore approved things he owned, but since he’d bought it at a thrift store he couldn’t exactly fault him for it.
“What,” He asked with a laugh. “It’s something simple I should probably know, isn’t it?”
“Sirius, my favourite colour hasn’t changed.”
“Well how was I supposed to know that,” Sirius shrugged. “It’s been thirteen years, maybe you’ve become a changed man.”
Remus rolled his eyes and Sirius shoved him.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Remus John Lupin,” Sirius said. His eyes were narrowed in anger but he was smiling, and Remus never wanted that smile to leave his face.
“I haven’t become a changed man, Sirius.” He put quotation marks around ‘changed man’, knowing the implications of what Sirius was asking him. He wanted to know how much of Remus was new information, and how much of it was the same.
“How am I supposed to know that,” Sirius shrugged.
“You aren’t.”
“What?” Sirius looked up at him, confusion clouding his gaze.
“No, you’re right. You aren’t, not really.” Remus could feel himself starting to ramble, but the words just kept flowing and flowing and he wasn’t entirely sure he had the power to stop himself. The realization of it all was coming crashing down, and Remus wasn’t sure he wanted to be under the tower when it fell.
“You’re coming back with no idea of who I am, and I don’t know how or why I’ve been ignoring that. Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed. I’m not the same person as I was before, and I know you’re definitely not either. And that’s okay. We’re allowed to grow and change, it’s a part of life, it’s a part of growing up.
“I have aches and pains that I never had before, did you know that? Of course you didn’t, because you weren’t here. And that’s not a dig, not at all. It’s my fault you weren’t here, after all. But now we need to tell each other. We can’t rely on everything we had before, everything we knew before. Because it’s not all the same.
“My favourite colour hasn’t changed, my favourite sweater or song or book hasn’t changed. But since you’ve been gone I’ve read more, I’ve bought new sweaters, I’ve listened to different music. You can’t know that unless I tell you, and I mean really tell you.”
Sirius, to his credit, let Remus ramble on and on until even Remus was finding himself unbearable.
“I understand,” Sirius said. “You haven’t changed, but you have, just like how I haven’t changed but I have.”
Remus nodded, biting his lip to hold himself from rambling the same things over again. He’d done that already, it was time to do really anything else.
“That’s okay though, isn’t it?” The look on Sirius’ face was thoughtful. One of the biggest changes that Remus had noticed was that Sirius thought before he spoke. He never had before, which had gotten them into some bad situations, but that had changed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s okay that we’ve grown. That would have happened regardless, even if everything hadn’t happened.”
“Sure,” Remus nodded. “But we would have grown together. ”
That hung in the air between them then. If only things had been different, they wouldn’t have had to relearn. They would’ve been there for everything, all the changes - good and bad - and they’d be just as familiar as they had been.
“At least we’re getting the chance now. Better late than never, right?” The look on Sirius’ face was so earnest it made Remus want to cry. He held it in, and settled for nodding instead.
“Better late than never.”
They went back to reading, and Sirius closed his eyes as he listened to Remus’ voice. He looked so peaceful, and Remus was content to just keep reading for as long as he could, just to keep Sirius so calm.
When Remus had finished the next chapter, Sirius got up and walked over to the record player. Remus had started to read the next chapter but stopped, watching Sirius instead.
He stood at the shelf for a while, hands going over all the options until he settled on one. Remus couldn’t see which one it was, but the second the opening notes Two of Us played Remus nearly did start crying.
James’ favourite album of all time.
Remus had bought new copies of Queen’s “A Night at the Opera” and The Beatles’ “Let It Be”, but they were the only two records he’d never touched. He’d taken the packaging off of Let It Be, set it on the player, but never actually let it play. “A Night at the Opera” was still in the plastic.
“I haven’t listened to this in so long but I think I could still recite it all from memory,” Remus laughed.
“James played it way too often,” Sirius shook his head with a smile. “I’m not surprised.”
“It’s nice,” Remus said. “Talking about them, I mean.” He didn’t meet Sirius’ eyes, choosing instead to look at the clock behind him. Sirius moved back to the couch, but Remus kept looking at the clock.
“I agree,” Sirius said quietly. Remus finally looked at him, and Sirius was already looking back. He was so small, in a way he’d never been before. Another change. Remus hated these changes, because they were the ones that never would have happened together.
They just listened to the music without talking, until Let It Be started. It had always been James’ favourite song, and Sirius started humming along. As the second verse started, Sirius’ gaze shot to Remus.
“Does Harry like The Beatles?”
“I don’t know,” Remus admitted. “I don’t actually think he even knows who they are.”
“No!” Sirius’ exclamation was so loud it made Remus jump. “How?”
“I don’t think his muggle family are really music people, to be honest.”
“We must fix this, Remus. James would be rolling around in his grave if he knew his only son didn’t have his same taste in music.”
“You can have this conversation with him yourself,” Remus smiled. “I’m sure he’d like that.”
Sirius’ face changed, he suddenly looked more unsure. “Do you think?”
“Sirius,” Remus reached out and his hand hovered over Sirius’ knee before he withdrew it. “I think Harry would love anything to do with you, he wants to get to know you. I’m sure he’d love to talk to you about James and Lily, and this is a part of James.”
Sirius didn’t speak for a moment, as Let It Be ended and Maggie Mae began.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s just like James,” Remus smiled. “With the cloak? Would’ve given James a run for his money and Lily a heart attack.”
Sirius laughed. “That sounds about right.”
“They’d be really proud of him, if they were still here.”
“We’ll just have to be proud enough for both of them.”
“I agree,” Remus smiled.
The record started the side over again, and this time Remus got up. When he sat back down, Paul McCartney was singing Let It Be again.
~~~
The Clash was playing on the record player the next time Sirius sat down to read more of Remus’ letters. He was wrapped up in the blanket, the one neither of them had acknowledged as being the only thing Remus had left of their life together.
London Calling was a bit of a weird soundtrack to this moment in their lives, but it simultaneously made sense. Despite the fact that most of their entire lives were lived with some sort of music underscoring it, most of the time it didn’t actually fit the occasion.
As Sirius began to read, Remus took the opportunity to watch him in a way he usually only allowed at night, when the lights were off and it was Padfoot asleep. Not when Sirius was awake, not when he might see Remus watching. His brow was furrowed, and he had his bottom lip in his teeth as he read. He alternated between biting his lip until it bled and biting his nails.
Remus lit a cigarette and reached out to put it between Sirius’ lips without saying anything. Sirius didn’t look up, but the small smile on his face showed his appreciation. He lit his own, and watched as Sirius was lost behind a haze of smoke, and then appeared again as it rose. He looked ethereal with the light hitting the smoke and then settling on his skin.
Just like the other times he’d read Remus’ letters, the more he read the sadder he got, until he started to cry again. This time the tears fell heavily, spilling down his face faster than he could wipe them away himself.
Remus leaned forward, giving him lots of time to move away. When he didn’t, Remus slid off the couch to kneel in front of Sirius. He couldn’t see the letter’s contents, but judging by the tear stains already littering the paper, it was possibly one of the saddest ones.
Remus had a feeling he knew, but he stayed quiet as he brushed the tears off Sirius’ cheeks, waiting for him to speak first.
“I just-” Sirius got out. “I miss them so much.”
Remus had never felt so wrong about being right. He wished he could take that letter away, hide it somewhere neither of them could find it. Remus could practically see the letter in his eyes, even though he couldn’t actually see the words on the page.
Padfoot,
It’s been eleven years. Eleven years without James, Lily, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas. Mary. You. The same amount of time I had with you, now I’ve had without you. How is that possible? How is it possible that I lived eleven years without you before we met, and now eleven years without you when you’re gone?
I can still see your faces in my mind. Every time I close my eyes my eyelids play back scenes from our lives together, things I love to remember and some things I wish I could forget over and over again. The first time you and James listened to muggle music. Pete’s first cigarette. That first full moon, in second year, after you knew about me. Our first kiss. Going to that muggle record shop the day ‘A Day at the Races’ came out, waiting to get a copy of it.
I can still smell James’ stupid shampoo. That stupid varnish stuff you used to use on your boots. Those chocolates Pete’s mum used to make that he’d bring us after the holidays. Lily’s peppermint candies.
Some stuff is fading. Why did we get detention the first time? What happened to the map? What was the first thing Pete said to me? Or Lily? Or James? What was Peter’s favourite song? What breakfast food did Marlene like the best? What was James’ favourite house elf snack?
I wish I could bottle up my memories, so I could keep them forever. I wish I could vanish my memories, so I didn’t have to remember any of it.
Maybe I’m a mess. And maybe that’s your fault. All I know is that I feel like I’m drowning. Some days I can float, just barely. My head can stay above the water as I do anything I can to keep from going under. Other days, it feels like I could just stop. Let the water take me.
It’s not like there’s anyone left to care.
Moony
“I miss them too,” Remus said through his tears. He was fighting so hard to wipe off Sirius’ cheeks that he was ignoring his own, and he could feel his t-shirt getting wet as he cried more and more. “Every single day, every moment, every second. I think about them always.”
“Sometimes I forget,” Sirius said quietly. “Sometimes, now that I’m out, I’ll think to myself ‘oh, I should send Prongs an owl’ and then it all comes crashing back down.”
“I finally went to visit them,” Remus said. He finally took a second to wipe the tears off his own face, but they replaced themselves quicker than he could help it. “In Godric’s Hollow. The house… They left it.”
Remus’ head was filled with images of that house, abandoned, overgrown, completely unrecognizable from the house Remus had such vivid and fond memories of. That house, the one James and Lily lived in, was gone. The only thing that remained was the shell of what it used to be. Remus couldn’t help but wonder if that was him, too. Just the shell of the man James and Lily knew.
“It’s still there, between the other buildings. I didn’t think it would still be there, and I could picture a life there that James and Lily never got to have,” Remus’ crying turned into sobs, and he fell down off his knees and onto the floor. Sirius moved forward, swinging his feet onto the ground on either side of Remus and clasping his hands on his shoulders.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. They cried together, for either seconds or hours, Remus couldn’t tell. It wasn’t until their tears started to stop that Sirius moved. He put his hands on the side of Remus’ face, and Remus leaned into it without realizing. His hand was warm, and his fingers moved in his hair in a way that felt so familiar it almost made Remus start crying all over again.
“I care.” Sirius’ voice was quiet and wrecked from all the crying, and Remus almost missed it. “I’m still here, and I care.”
He looked up slowly, and when he was looking into Sirius’ eyes he realized just how close they were. If Remus moved forward just three inches they’d be kissing. Remus was pretty sure Sirius knew this, if the way he was looking from Remus’ eyes to his lips was anything to go by, but neither of them moved.
Remus wanted to, more than he could ever explain. He wanted to kiss Sirius, and keep kissing Sirius, for the rest of their lives. He wanted it all back. The hand holding, the cuddles, the full moons, the shared glances and soft touches and everything else that came along with a relationship with Sirius.
It wasn’t his choice, though. It couldn’t be his choice. It had to be Sirius’. So Remus waited, three inches away from everything he wanted, until Sirius closed his eyes, squeezing them as tight as he could, shook his head, and then moved away.
They didn’t talk about it, and instead Sirius switched the record to Led Zeppelin IV, and Remus got up to get their current read off the coffee table.
~~~
The next time they read the letters, Sirius was curled up in the armchair while Remus sat on the couch. The ashtray next to Sirius was already full, but the lit ones in his hand and Remus’ would be joining the finished ones soon, along with the many more they’d probably smoke before the day was over.
This time, it only took two to have Sirius in tears. The paper was old, yellowed and wrinkled and faded. He’d pulled letters from the bottom this time, rather than the top like he normally did.
Remus tried to think back to what he’d said in those first few letters that could have made him react like that, but he was drawing a blank. Countless letters spanning thirteen years meant that he couldn’t remember what all of them said, as much as he was trying to.
Sirius was mouthing the words as he read them, and Remus wished he could lip read so he could know what parts of Remus’ deepest thoughts and desires he was learning about then. Remus took another drag of his cigarette, copying Sirius as he did the same. He closed his eyes, closing his hand over the paper, crinkling it up more than it already was.
When he opened them, he was looking right at Remus. It felt like he could look through his eyes into his soul, and Remus had never felt more naked. Without looking at the paper, Sirius started to read.
“I love you, Padfoot. Please don’t forget that. I’ll always love you, and wish I could get you back.”
Tears fell down Remus’ cheeks to match Sirius’. They looked at each other through watery eyes, neither of them breaking eye contact.
“Is it true?” Sirius’ voice shook as he asked. “Moony, is it true?”
“Of course it’s true,” Remus answered. “How could I think anything else?”
“Even after everything?”
Remus got up off the couch, putting out his mostly finished cigarette on the ashtray as he kneeled down in front of Sirius. His was still smoking, forgotten between his fingers as he looked between Remus and the letter still clutched in his hands.
“Even after everything,” Remus nodded. Sirius gasped, wet and smiley, and the letter was forgotten between them when Sirius reached out to hold Remus’ head instead. Remus carefully put out Sirius’ cigarette, very aware of the fact that he did not want to set a fire, and Sirius laughed a bit when he realized he’d still had it in his fingers.
Sirius slid off the couch next to Remus, and they just looked at each other for a minute. They were close, only an inch or so apart, and Remus could feel Sirius’ whole body vibrating a bit as their heads got closer together. They rested their foreheads against each other, Sirius’ hands in Remus’ hair and Remus’ on Sirius’ arms.
“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” Remus said into the space between them. He could feel Sirius pulling away, could see him opening his mouth to disagree, and Remus held him in place. “Please, Pads. Listen to me for a second.”
Sirius shook his head and smiled. “No, Moony. I know what you’re going to say, and you don’t have to apologize anymore. It’s okay, I know why you believed it, and I know you feel bad. But I’ve spent thirteen years thinking I’d never get to see you again, let alone be able to love you. So please, don’t apologize. It’s okay.”
Their lips were touching before Remus even registered moving. Sirius’ fingers tightened around his hair, pulling him closer, and he went. His eyes slid shut and he wrapped his arms around Sirius’ back. They were both crying, and it was everything Remus remembered. It was cigarettes and tea and chocolate and something that made Remus flashback to kissing in the Gryffindor common room when everyone else had gone to sleep.
Sirius’ hands moved from his hair down his face, his fingers tracing Remus’ scars. The touch was so light Remus could’ve missed it, except that every part of him Sirius touched felt like it was on fire.
“I love you too,” Sirius whispered into his mouth, into his skin, into his ears. It reverberated around Remus’ head until it was the only thing he could hear, the only thing he could think. As they kissed Remus let his hands wander, replacing his memories of Sirius with the new, older, version of him in front of him.
Sirius was doing the same, Remus could feel his hands on his arms, shoulders, back, tracing the patterns of his scars, memorizing the new ones and memorizing the new ones. There were definitely new ones, more than Remus could count, and he wondered if Sirius really could remember which ones were which.
When they broke away, Sirius’ eyes were light with unshed tears and a happiness Remus hadn’t seen since he’d gotten back.
“Wait,” Sirius scrambled to his feet, leaving Remus on the floor. Remus shook his head, caught somewhere between awe and confusion.
“What are you doing?” The laugh bubbled up in Remus’ throat without him even realizing. His whole body ached, and he pulled himself up to sit on the couch again. Sirius had walked over to the record player, and Remus watched as he pulled a record off the shelf and put it on the player, replacing Let It Be.
Remus couldn’t quite see what Sirius was doing, which Remus had a feeling was on purpose. Sirius carefully set the needle down in a way that showed Sirius had done this before.
The opening notes of “You’re My Best Friend” played through the room as Sirius straightened up and turned around. Their eyes met as the opening notes played, and Sirius stood hesitantly by the record player, feet glued to the floor as he smiled at Remus.
Remus shook his head, a smile on his face as he stood up to mirror Sirius. The plastic wrap that had once protected the unopened record lay on the floor next to the cover.
“You remembered,” Remus said, looking past Sirius at the record player. He watched the record spin as he listened to Freddie Mercury sing out the song that Remus hadn’t let himself listen to in thirteen years.
He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, listening as Sirius crossed the room and stood in front of him. Sirius stopped, and Remus could feel the warmth in front of him.
Sirius moved closer, laid his hands on Remus’ shoulders, and then moved them up slowly. Remus kept his eyes closed, just feeling Sirius’ calloused fingers exploring. He went up every scar, every bump, every blemish, until his fingers were laced in Remus’ hair and his hands were cradling his face. He was still standing, nearly leaning on Remus as he sat on the couch.
Remus was leaning up as much as he could to meet Sirius slouching down, and it wasn’t quite enough, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t make himself tall enough to kiss him. He stood up, making sure to not make any sudden movements. He didn’t tower over Sirius’ he was only about three inches taller, but it was familiar and normal and everything he’d craved.
They didn’t kiss, instead they stayed three inches apart and started to sway along to the music. With his eyes closed, Remus could almost pretend they were back at Hogwarts, dancing in their dorm when Peter and James were out doing other things.
“Oh, you’re the best friend that I ever had,” Sirius sang quietly into his ear. He was dreadfully out of tune, but Remus didn’t care. He was laughing, and so was Sirius, and they were together, and “A Night At The Opera” was playing around him one more time.
“Been with you such a long time,” Remus sang, equally out of tune. “You’re my sunshine.”
“And I want you to know, that my feelings are true,” Sirius spun him around, nearly causing both of them to lose their balance but they held it, chuckling softly to themselves.
“I really love you,” Remus finished out the verse.
He’d never meant those words more than he did in that moment, was the first thing he realized when he closed his mouth. Sirius was still singing, as they swayed around the world.
“You know,” Sirius said, pulling back a bit to look Remus in the eyes. “We’re going to have to play this record into the ground too, it’s tradition. Basically the law, actually.”
“Oh, really?” Remus raised his eyebrows, a laugh crossing his face before he could realize it. “That’s the law, is it?”
“Oh, yes,” Sirius nodded with fake serious-ness. “You should know this by now Moony, I’m nothing if not lawful.”
“Oh of course,” Remus laughed. He could listen to Sirius call him Moony all day every day and never get sick of it. If he had to pick only one thing he could hear for the rest of his life, it would be Sirius calling him Moony.
They kept dancing around the room, as the next song played and Sirius paused their dancing to go back and listen to it again. He did it every time, being true to his word that they’d have to listen to this record just as much as the last one.
Daylight fell as the night crept in, causing a chill in the air and the moon to rise. They curled up on the couch together, striving to be as close to each other as possible without physically crawling into each others’ skin.
“Can I ask you something?” Sirius had been so quiet Remus had assumed he’d fallen asleep. He turned down to face him as much as he could, but their angle was kind of awkward because Sirius was resting on Remus’ chest.
“Anything.”
“Does it bother you that we can never have a normal relationship?”
It was so far away from anything Remus had been expecting to hear he almost laughed. The idea that Sirius could ever doubt this was crazy to Remus in a way that probably shouldn’t be.
“Sirius, listen to me.” Remus sat up, pulling Sirius up with him and moving him so they were eye to eye. “This is a normal relationship. There is nothing abnormal about this in the slightest, and don’t ever think for a second that anything you could do would ever not be enough. You are enough, Sirius.”
Remus paused for a second to catch his breath. Sirius was smiling at him, a big smile that was surely making his cheeks hurt, and Remus smiled back.
“You’re more than enough, Padfoot.” Remus shook his head. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, they’re all wrong. I know you love me, and you know I love you, and that’s enough.”
“Okay.”
Sirius didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t really have to. Remus had already said it all.
The silence that fell over them after that was comforting, like a blanket he’d just taken out of the dryer or the first cigarette after a long break.
They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need to. They both knew. When Sirius started yawning, Remus pushed him up to his feet and led him into the bathroom. They got ready next to each other, their elbows brushing as they brushed their teeth, soft touches while they moved around each other seamlessly, like choreography they’d learned years ago and never forgotten.
When Remus finally turned off the light, only the moon outside remained. They moved out of the toilet over to the bed, and Remus sat down at the edge. Sirius sat down with him, and neither of them said anything while Remus pulled Sirius by his hand to lay down with his head on the pillow.
As they got comfortable, Remus ran his fingers over Sirius’ arms. It was something he knew he’d found comfort in when they were younger, and it seemed like that hadn’t changed. Sirius threw a leg over Remus’, and Remus pulled him closer by his waist, until Remus had Sirius’ hair in his nose and Sirius probably had Remus’ knees in his legs.
Neither of them cared, and they laid in comfortable silence while Remus waited for Sirius to fall asleep first.
Dear Sirius,
These letters to you, even these ones I’ll never write down, have saved me. They’ve kept me going, kept me grounded, but I guess I don’t need them anymore. Because I have you, but also because for the first time in thirteen years I have myself too.
I don’t feel like a shell anymore, I don’t feel like a ghost. I’m me, I’m back, and I’m so glad. If I want to talk to you, tell you my every thought, dream, fear, or anything else, I don’t have to imagine writing a letter. Instead, I can just tell you. I’ll never take that for granted again.
It’s you, you’re all I see. Ooh, you make me live now, honey.
Yours,
Remus