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Chapter Text

On the 22nd of December, 2023, Terminal 4 of New York's John F. Kennedy Airport was teeming with people. Sirius Black, like millions of others, had not been born with a natural sense of punctuality. As a result, he had to weave his way through the terminal at full speed, dodging people, suitcases, and even a Christmas tree inexplicably placed in the middle of the walkway.

"Fucking hell, I hate Christmas," he muttered, manoeuvring through the crowd with a carry-on bag and the faded black case of his guitar. Though his London trip would barely last a day, Sirius rarely left his guitar behind - a fact his friends could attest to with countless anecdotes of said guitar case accompanying him to hospital emergency rooms, car repair shops and even a pub brawl. Although dirty, old and difficult to carry, the instrument was less of a nuisance than the crowds, the cacophony of different languages and the incessant Christmas carols.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" a man shouted at Sirius, who had accidentally hit him with the neck of his guitar while trying to overtake an elderly lady. Mumbling an apology, Sirius finally emerged from the crowd and rushed towards his boarding gate, only to be surprised by the lack of a long queue of waiting passengers.

"I'm very sorry," the flight attendant said, her red lips curving into an apologetic smile. "Boarding closed five minutes ago; we can't allow any more passengers on board."

"You don't understand," Sirius protested, slamming his passport on the small counter between them. "I need to be on this plane. Regulus will kill me if I don't."

"I'm not sure who Regulus is," the woman replied, looking at him as if he were slightly unhinged.

"He's my younger brother - you don't know what he's like when he's angry."

Sirius wasn't exaggerating. While his brother certainly did not enjoy physical confrontation, he could inflict considerable damage with words alone - a talent he had no doubt inherited from their mother.

"I understand this must be frustrating, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to get you on this flight," the attendant said, sounding impressively immune to the pleas of delayed passengers. "However, I can book you on the next flight. There are a few seats available in business class."

Sirius chewed his nails, weighing his options, only to grimace at the bitter taste of the black nail polish he'd applied that morning. If only I hadn't , he thought, I might have arrived half an hour earlier.

A throat cleared behind him, and as Sirius turned to glare at the source of the unwelcome pressure on his fraying nerves, he noticed at least five people waiting impatiently in line.

"Fine," he decided, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. "Give me one of the seats. When does the flight leave?"

"Two hours, sir."

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, earning a raised eyebrow from the attendant as she slid the card reader over the counter.

With a new ticket and two hours to kill, Sirius walked to the nearest window and watched in silence as the plane he was supposed to be on taxied down the runway. After a short run, it took off and disappeared from sight. Five minutes - only five minutes - had kept him from it.

Defeated and with little to do but accept his fate, Sirius pulled out his phone and started typing into one of his chats:

Missed my flight. I'll be two hours late. Sorry.

He bit his already ruined nails as he watched the status of the message change: sent, delivered, read. He stared at the chat for several minutes, but no reply came.

"Tosser," he muttered, then scrolled through his recent calls and tapped the first number on the list. Two rings later, a familiar shrill voice forced him to pull the phone away from his ear.

"What's up, Sirius? How's it going?"

"Bloody hell, McKinnon, what are you doing with James' phone?" Sirius asked, frowning as he put the phone back to his ear.

"I was about to change his wallpaper to a picture of me dressed as Freddie Mercury. Remember my Halloween costume?"

"Marls? Who are you talking to?" another voice called, getting louder.

"It's just Sirius, Jamie, relax."

"Sirius?" James' voice shot up, a mixture of alarm and panic.

The sound of a scuffle followed - a clear struggle for the phone - before James emerged victorious.

"What the hell, Sirius? Aren't you supposed to be in airplane mode?"

"Yeah, well..." Sirius leaned his forehead against the window. "I might’ve missed my flight."

Silence lingered for a beat too long before James burst out laughing.

"Should've seen that coming. Did you get another ticket?"

"Yes, but it leaves in two hours. So here I am, stuck like an idiot."

"Damn. Well, two hours isn't so bad. Did you let Reg know?"

"I texted him, but the little bastard hasn't replied."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"Yeah, same. Honestly, I don't even know why he invited me. Maybe missing the flight was the universe telling me to just go back to the flat."

"Try that and you'll have him and your mum breathing down your neck. Brave, but foolish."

Sirius chuckled and stepped away from the window. The truth was, a part of him believed his own words. He didn't really know why he was going on this trip.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to be alright?"

The question made Sirius smile. James had a knack of asking that at just the right moment, as if he wanted to swoop in and fix things. Sirius wished he was there or had said something like " Fuck it, come back to the flat, we'll have pizza ", but he settled for the comfort of his distant concern.

"I'll be just fine. I'll let you know as soon as I get to London, yeah? Say hi to the others for me."

"Sure, mate. Take care, and remember-"

The call suddenly cut off. Sirius looked at his phone screen and saw that it had gone black. The battery had died.

"Shit."

The charging area was a battlefield. It wasn't surprising; two days before Christmas Eve, the airport felt more like a survival challenge than a transit point. Sirius trudged along the long, bar-like counter, his guitar case bumping awkwardly against his side, until he spotted the last available seat.

With a sigh of relief, he dropped his guitar and bag beside the chair, plugged in his charger and watched as his phone screen lit up. At least something was working.

"Thank God," he muttered to himself. It wasn't much, but the small victory made things feel a fraction less catastrophic. His phone was charging, his ticket was sorted and James had done his usual check-in. The world wasn't completely against him.

Still, his nerves were buzzing just below the surface. Leaning against the counter, Sirius buried his face in his hands and tried to breathe through the restless energy. It didn't work. He'd never quite mastered the art of relaxing, and the thought of going back to his childhood home - back to Grimmauld Place - made his chest tighten even more.

Four years. That was how long it had been since he'd last stepped through the door of that cold, silent house. The years of separation hadn't softened his feelings; if anything, they'd calcified into something heavier. Grimmauld Place wasn't just a house - it was a graveyard of his mistakes, his family's expectations, and the person he'd fought to stop being.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. No. He wasn't going to let it get to him. Not here, not now.

Sirius fished a battered leather notebook from his jacket pocket, its worn cover bearing the initials S.O.B. in faded gold. A gift from Regulus, it had become a dumping ground for his creative outbursts over the years. He flipped through the pages - fragments of lyrics, half-written poems and the occasional crude sketch - until he found a blank one.

Reaching into his pocket for his pen, Sirius froze. It wasn't there. He double checked his jacket, then his jeans, then he emptied his guitar case with growing frustration. Nothing.

Where had he left it? On his bedside table? In the taxi? He couldn't remember. Sitting there, staring at the blank page, he let out a sigh that carried the weight of the last twenty-four hours. Of course. Nothing ever went just halfway wrong.

"Need a pen?"

The voice startled him, pulling him out of his bubble of self-pity. It wasn't unusual for this to happen - little things often startled him, which was odd for someone who spent so much time at concerts surrounded by sensory overload.

"No, thanks," he replied unenthusiastically, not turning to face the voice, his gaze fixed on the blank page of his notebook. "Inspiration's gone."

"Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration," the voice murmured, and Sirius watched as a hand with long, slender fingers placed a pen in the middle of the notebook, between the pages. "The rest of us just get up and go to work."

Sirius scowled. Had a complete stranger just called him an amateur? Who the hell did they think they were talking to? Sirius was about to tell them to mind their own business, but as soon as he turned to do so, he found himself unable to speak.

The insufferable snob turned out to be a young man with hair the colour of toasted sand and eyes the colour of caramel. Warm caramel, Sirius thought, noticing a certain softness that was rarely found in anyone's gaze. Unlike the self-important prat he'd imagined, this boy looked neither conceited nor bitter, but suspiciously calm and kind.

A few freckles adorned his nose, along with a faint scar that began at his right eyebrow and ended at the bridge of his nose. It was an old scar, Sirius decided after a moment of observation. A moment that must have taken too long, because the stranger finally raised a curious eyebrow.

"That's a quote from Stephen King," he said when Sirius still couldn't find his words.

"Oh."

"No offence meant."

"None taken. Don't worry about it."

The boy nodded and went back to minding his own business. This time, however, Sirius wished he hadn't, his interest quickly increasing. With nothing else to do, he decided to pick up the pen and try to write something. Anything. Anything to distract himself from the memory of those freckles and that scar. How had he got it? He didn't seem the violent type.

Before he could help it, this peculiar stranger had become the perfect inspiration for a quick, shitty piece of airport writing.

Freckles like a map of stars,
Lines that whisper who you are.
Scars don’t speak, but still, they shout,
A mystery I can’t figure out.

Sirius snorted at the uneven lines. He didn't even know the man - how could he assume he wasn't violent? Marlene and Dorcas had made him watch enough true crime documentaries to know that psychopaths could make the nicest neighbours... or the most attractive passengers to lend you their pens. Smiling, Sirius added a few more lines.

How many stories lie beneath,
The surface calm, the silent teeth?
A stranger lending ink and pen,
What secrets are kept, what might have been?

"Fancy a smoke?"

Sirius jumped in his seat and slammed the notebook shut.

"Bloody hell, you scared me," he complained, placing a hand over his chest as he turned to face the boy. Too many thoughts about psychopaths were taking their toll.

"Sorry," the boy said with a laugh. "I'm going out for a smoke, but I don't know if I should trust you not to nick my pen."

"Well, that's insulting," Sirius replied, ignoring the fact that he had actually started to write an analysis song about whether this boy was a psychopath or not. With his pen. "But I could use a cigarette."

"All right then." The boy unplugged his phone and closed the book he'd been reading, which Sirius only noticed now. Babel by R.F. Kuang. How pretentious. "Here's the deal: you can keep my pen if you give me one of your fancy cigarettes."

Sirius blinked.

"How do you know my cigarettes are fancy?" he asked.

"You pulled them out with a bunch of other stuff when you were looking for your pen," the boy replied, tilting his head. "Do you think I'm a psychopath or something?"

Yes, Sirius thought.

"No," he replied with a nervous laugh. "Deal."

Sirius held out his hand to seal the deal, as if they were about to conclude a major business transaction. The boy chuckled but did the same, giving him a firm handshake. His hands were large and warm.

"I'm Remus," the boy said. "Remus Lupin."

"Sirius Black."

They smiled, then found their way out of the building.

Chapter Text

"So, you play the guitar?" Remus asked, his slender fingers picking a cigarette from Sirius' pack of Dunhills. After their trek out of the airport - the cursed Terminal 4 had no indoor smoking areas, much to their dismay - they'd settled outside amid the chaos of taxis, shuttles and hurried travellers. It was almost eleven in the evening, but the place was still crowded and the bright outdoor lighting from the airport illuminated the kerbside, casting long shadows on the busy pavement.

"Oh, yeah." Sirius pulled out a cigarette for himself, tucking the pack back into the pocket of his leather jacket. Before he could fumble for his lighter, Remus had stepped closer, holding his own up to Sirius' face. The sharp smell of lighter fuel hit Sirius' nose as he leaned forward and took two quick drags to light the cigarette.

For a brief moment, the warmth of the flame wasn't the only thing Sirius felt. The sudden closeness of Remus, the steady hand holding the lighter, sent a small flutter through his stomach. It wasn't much - just a flicker - but it was enough to catch him off guard. He let the cigarette settle between his fingers, focusing on the first drag to steady himself.

"I'm in a band, actually," he added, his voice casual, though he was suddenly very aware of the space, or lack of it, between them.

Remus nodded and stepped back, his gaze drifting to a family of six redheads - mum, dad and five children, including a pair of twins - spilling out of a coach and rushing through the crowd towards the entrance doors. "Cool. You lot from London?”

"Good ol' London, yeah, you could say that," Sirius replied, flicking the ash onto the ground. "Pete and James are from a town south-west of London. Marls is a Londoner, but we all met at school in Scotland."

"Been around, huh?" Remus smiled, and Sirius noticed the glint in his eyes that had surprised him the first time he'd seen it. So full of life, almost mesmerising. "So, what brings you to New York?"

Sirius blinked, catching himself staring again. Feigning nonchalance, he looked away to survey the crowd. "A few gigs, nothing massive,” he said. “You know, bars, small venues. Marls’ parents got a flat in Williamsburg, so we can skip the hotel."

"Great," Remus nodded, pausing briefly before adding with another smile, "I've been over there a few times."

"Where do you live?" Sirius asked, then grimaced slightly. "Not to sound like a stalker or anything - just curious."

Remus laughed softly and shook his head, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Harlem. It's close to uni."

Sirius couldn't quite hide his surprise. From the boy's British accent, he'd assumed he was just passing through. But now that he thought about it, who would be leaving New York this close to Christmas unless it was for a holiday – or to go home?

"Surprised?" Remus asked, his face lighting up with amused curiosity.

"No! Well, sort of. I hadn't really thought about it. What are you studying?"

"English Lit. I'm here on exchange, actually."

"So, heading home for Christmas with your family?"

Remus' smile faltered just a little, and his eyes went back to the line of taxis in front of them, suddenly losing part of their sparkle. After a brief pause, he nodded. "Yeah, something like that."

Sirius nodded, now feeling that he might have been prying too much. On the way out, when they’d realised they were on the same flight, Remus had reacted similarly - like returning to London didn’t thrill him in the slightest. Sirius understood. He wasn’t keen on going back either. But delving into it felt like too much. Even if Remus was friendly - and undeniably attractive - he was still a stranger. Sirius wasn't one to open up easily, even to those closest to him.

Having finished the last drag, Sirius waited for Remus. Once they had both stubbed their cigarettes out on the edge of a nearby rubbish bin, they threw the remains in and went back inside.

As they made their way through the doors, Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets, the silence between them almost comfortable - reminiscent of the easy quiet he often shared with James on cold nights like this. He allowed himself to enjoy it for a moment, until the phone in his pocket started ringing insistently, shattering the silence.

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling out his phone to see Regulus' name on the screen. "Hello?"

"You idiot," Regulus greeted him.

"Miss you too, you little tosser. What d’you want?”

"Mum pulled some strings to get your sorry arse on a private jet. How far are you from the FBO?"

"Quite far," Sirius replied incredulously, coming to a halt near the giant Christmas tree in the walkway. "Did you rat on me to Mum about being late?"

"She was going to find out anyway."

"I'm not getting on some posh private jet just to save her a meltdown."

There was a brief pause, during which Sirius noticed Remus watching him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"You're an idiot," Regulus snarled.

"Yeah, well, you've told me that before."

"Wouldn't you even do it to be on time for my bloody birthday?"

Sirius wanted to snap something cruel, but found he couldn't. He hadn't meant to be late. If there was any reason he still felt even a shred of attachment to his family's house, it was because of Regulus. Everything he did, he did for him. But taking a favour from his mother? That crossed a line.

"I'm sorry, Reg, all right? None of this is about hurting you. But I don't want to owe her anything - let alone a fancy flight. What’s it costing, anyway? Twenty grand?"

Regulus was silent for a moment, then, "Sixty."

“Mad. The lot of you are fucking mad. You'll just have to wait a few hours. I promise I'll stay longer, yeah? I'll talk to James - he'll wait a few more days for me."

The impromptu offer seemed to soften Regulus a little, and after a pause, he sighed.

"All right. But you're staying at home, not some bloody hotel."

"Fine, all right. I'll stay at home. Promise."

"Good."

"Good."

Regulus hung up, leaving Sirius standing there with a sudden weight on his chest. What the hell had he just promised? The words replayed in his mind, each one heavier than the last. His fingers twitched, itching for another cigarette, but even that wouldn't take the edge off. He'd spent years building walls to keep Grimmauld Place and everything it represented at bay, yet with a few words he'd agreed to step right back into it. A dull pain settled in his stomach - a mixture of fear, remorse and something darker he couldn't quite name. What was he thinking? Or was he thinking at all?

"Everything all right?" Remus asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah... no. Could be worse, I suppose." Sirius attempted a smile, but it ended up being more of a grimace. He wasn't ready to spend more than a day in London, but a promise was a promise and Regulus wouldn't forgive him if he broke it.

"Sure? Want to go elsewhere? We could get something to eat before the flight - we've got just over an hour."

Sirius glanced at Remus, catching the genuine concern in his expression. The potential psycho he'd scribbled about in his notebook was turning into something else entirely - a warrior prince, calm but confident, kind yet unyielding. His gaze lingered on the scar across Remus' face, curiosity flaring before he suppressed it. He almost asked how it had happened, but stopped himself, choosing instead to simply nod, allowing the mystery of the boy beside him to linger a little longer.

Finding a restaurant with seats available was almost as difficult as finding a seat in the charging area, but they finally managed to settle down in a small place selling decent sandwiches. Sirius stared at his food for several minutes, nibbling half-heartedly at a chip as if it would magically solve his problems.

“You sure you’re alright?” Remus asked cautiously, as if bracing himself for Sirius to snap at him. "That call didn't sound very friendly..."

"That was my little brother," Sirius said, dropping the chip he'd half eaten onto his plate. "They're celebrating his birthday tomorrow, at my parents' house. But..." He hesitated, looking away. "It's complicated. It's been years since I've been there, and I'm certainly not looking forward to going back."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, clearly not expecting such a personal response. "So why go back? Couldn't you take your brother somewhere else? Just the two of you?"

Sirius let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “I could, but Reg wouldn’t have it. He still thinks we can be one big happy family. He asks me to come back every year. I haven't set foot in the house for four years, but I promised I'd stay a few days to make up for my lateness. I'm a bloody idiot."

"Sounds more like you're a bloody good brother," Remus said before taking a bite of his burger. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then added, "If you're willing to do this for him despite everything, that's pretty amazing. Bet it'll mean the world to him."

"I doubt it," Sirius muttered, frowning. Regulus hadn't looked happy in years and Sirius couldn't blame him. Staying in that house, trapped by his parents and forced down a path he didn't want to go down, would take the joy out of anyone. Resentment bubbled in his chest and, noticing Remus' attention, Sirius realised he'd given away far too much. He took a deep breath and forced a grin. "Anyway, it's only a few days and I'm done moping. What about you? Were you born in London?"

Remus didn't seem convinced by the sudden change in tone, but he didn't push.

"No," he said after taking a sip of his drink. "I was born in Wales, in a small village where my mum’s from. We moved to London when I was eleven - my dad got a job there."

Sirius nodded, finally forcing himself to chew his burger, each bite harder than the last. Wales. He'd never been there, but suddenly he wanted to know all about it.

"What's it like there? Do you miss it?"

Remus smiled faintly, his gaze drifting somewhere past Sirius, as if picturing a distant memory.

"I miss everything," he admitted. "I was happy there, we were happy. Things changed when we moved to London, I used to cry every night because I missed our cows," Remus snorted, a sad smile on his face, then paused, apparently realising he'd talked without noticing. He cleared his throat and took another sip of his drink. "I like London though, can't wait to go back."

Sirius wondered what it was like to miss a place. For him, home had never been Grimmauld Place; it had always been people. James, Marlene, Peter - they were his home. School had been a good substitute for what a real home should feel like, but Sirius' heart was wherever his friends were.

The remaining hour passed in a blur of light conversation and half-hearted attempts at eating, with both of them deliberately avoiding any deeper topics. Sirius told him all about the Marauders - his band - and how they'd gone to New York just for the thrill of it, only to be surprised by their growing success among the New Yorkers. Remus, in turn, shared details of Babel, the book he was reading, and how he'd never given much thought to the noble art of translation until now. It was just a nice, safe chat that came surprisingly easily.

Sirius didn't have to pretend to be all right. In fact, it slowly dawned on him that he didn't want to do it at all - he actually felt good. There was something soothing about Remus' presence, like the quiet hum of a distant melody. It calmed him in a way he hadn't expected.

But then Remus glanced at his watch and his eyes widened in alarm.

"We've got to go," he said, already standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Sirius blinked, momentarily dazed by the abrupt shift. "What? Why? We’ve got time-”

"Not unless we sprint," Remus interrupted, tilting his head towards the clock. "Boarding started ten minutes ago."

“Oh, for the love of-” Sirius shot to his feet, grabbing his bag and throwing his jacket over his shoulder as he stormed away from the table. He’d barely made it three steps before he froze. "Shit. My guitar."

"Got it," Remus said smoothly, already reaching for the instrument. He lifted it with ease, a slight smile tugging at his lips as they sprinted away.

They made their way through the crowded terminal, weaving between suitcases and travellers in much the same way as Sirius had just two hours earlier. Midnight was fast approaching, and Sirius silently thanked himself that he hadn't eaten his entire burger - it would definitely have given him a stomachache.

When they finally reached the boarding area, there was still a small queue of people waiting to get on. Sirius stopped at the end of it and tried to catch his breath.

"Smoking kills, or whatever your Dunhills say," Remus quipped, though he was clearly winded too. Sirius managed a weak smile in response.

The airline assistant at the gate seemed to recognise him, raising an eyebrow when she spotted him, but said nothing. She simply processed their tickets and let them through. Moments later, the two of them made their way onto the plane. They'd made it.

"Looks like this is where we part ways," Remus said with a slightly awkward smile as they reached Sirius' seat in business class. He held out his hand amicably. "It was nice to meet you, Sirius Black."

Sirius shook his hand, warmth blossoming in his chest at the gesture. It had only been a couple of hours, but saying goodbye to Remus felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.

"You too," he said, holding Remus' gaze for a moment too long.

As Remus turned to leave, Sirius noticed his guitar still dangling from the boy’s shoulder.

"Wait!" Sirius called, stepping forward.

Remus turned back quickly, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

Sirius pointed at the instrument. "You're, er... taking my guitar."

Remus froze, then looked down, mortified. "Shit - sorry!" He shifted awkwardly and handed it back, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sirius slung the guitar over his shoulder, grinning. "And here I thought you were worried about me nicking your pen. Turns out you're the one with sticky fingers."

Remus chuckled softly, his eyes narrowing. "Guess we’re even, then."

They laughed, the sound cutting through the bustle around them, but then silence crept back in. Sirius looked at Remus expectantly, though he couldn't quite say what he was waiting for. His number? The story of his scar?

Before he could muster the courage to ask, Remus shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped back.

"Goodbye, Sirius," he said softly. This time, as he turned to leave, he didn't look back.

"Goodbye," Sirius murmured quietly, even though he knew Remus couldn't hear him anymore.

Chapter Text

Sirius had given himself a stiff neck from craning it so many times to see if Remus would reappear (why would he? He couldn't quite say). After several minutes and a curious look from one of the flight attendants, he resigned himself to the fact that Remus wasn't coming back. He was just one of those friendly strangers you meet in a waiting lounge and never see again.

At least the seat next to him was empty. Sirius wasn't sure he was ready for new company, not when it slowly dawned on him that he was about to fly to London, all alone. Flying and going back to Grimmauld Place - two of his greatest fears.

As the captain's voice crackled through the cabin, announcing their imminent departure, he fought to keep his composure as the others shuffled to their seats and stowed their belongings. His hand instinctively reached for his phone and tapped out a quick message to his brother. 

Just boarded the plane. I'll let you know when I land.

Sent. Delivered.

He didn't wait to see if Regulus had read the message before calling James. He'd promised to call after landing, but the sudden anxiety clawing at him made it a knee-jerk reaction. He'd almost forgotten how difficult flights could be, and if anyone could calm his nerves, it was his best friend.

"Sirius?" James' groggy voice came over the line. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you missed your flight again."

Sirius chuckled. "Bloody hell, no! What d'you take me for?"

James let out a long suffering sigh, as if he'd expected the worst. "You scared me, you muppet. I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd missed it while sitting in the airport."

"Well, I almost did, you know," Sirius admitted, chewing on his thumbnail despite the unpleasant taste of nail varnish.

“What'chu on about?”

"Well..."

The events of the past two hours played out in his mind, starting with Remus offering him a pen. He could still remember every word the boy had said, and picture every freckle on his nose and the way the angles of his face caught the light in a way that made his eyes shine even brighter. Sirius felt a slight flutter in his stomach, but decided to ignore it. How was he going to tell James all this, especially when he hadn't even worked up the courage to ask for the boy's number?

He'd just started to think about how to explain it when a flight attendant appeared beside him, interrupting his train of thought. He turned without thinking - and then froze. Remus was standing there, his expression somewhere between hesitant and amused, as if he wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up there either.

"Technically, we're not supposed to allow this kind of change, but since it's a safety matter..." the flight attendant began, addressing Remus. Sirius barely registered her words, his attention focused on the boy as he loaded his backpack into the overhead compartment, thanking her profusely.

"Sirius? Still there, mate?” James' voice snapped him out of his daze.

"I've got to go, but I'll call you as soon as I can, yeah?" Sirius said hurriedly, his eyes glued to Remus.

"Sure. Have a safe flight. Tell Reg I said hello."

"Yeah..."

Sirius hung up without breaking his gaze, practically gaping as Remus, now clutching only his book, dropped into the seat beside him with a soft sigh.

"Sirius," Remus greeted with an awkward smile.

"Remus," Sirius smiled back, suddenly very aware of the loud beating of his heart.

The flight attendant, checking that the overhead compartment was securely closed, glanced between them with wide eyes.

"Excuse me, do you two know each other?" she asked, curiosity lighting up her face.

"Sort of," Sirius replied as Remus gave a small nod. They exchanged a look, both obviously taken aback by the coincidence.

“He nicked my pen, actually,” Remus deadpanned.

"Did not! Please don't listen to him, he's clearly delusional," Sirius retorted, feigning indignation.

The flight attendant giggled. "Well, what are the odds?" she exclaimed, grinning at Remus with excessive enthusiasm. "Looks like it's your lucky day."

"Seems like it," Remus replied, his eyes fixed on Sirius.

Sirius couldn't help but smile in disbelief as he shifted in his seat to face Remus more directly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, although what he really wanted to say was more like: Did you ask for this seat? Did you want to see me again? Maybe he wasn't the only one interested in exchanging numbers, maybe he...

"My seatbelt was broken," Remus explained as he fastened the one on his new seat.

Sirius' smile faded slightly, though he tried not to show his disappointment. A simple accident - nothing more.

"Economy was full, so..."

"Right. Makes sense," Sirius nodded, trying to keep his voice casual.

Remus opened his mouth to continue, but the plane's engines roared to life and Sirius instinctively turned forward, stiffening in his seat. The plane began to taxi slowly as two flight attendants positioned themselves at the front of the cabin to give the safety briefing.

"In the event of a water landing," a voice crackled through the speaker, calm and measured, "your life jacket is located under your seat and will inflate automatically..."

Sirius’ mind spiralled immediately, conjuring the worst scenarios. His eyes remained glued to one of the attendants as she demonstrated the proper use of a life jacket. Even though he'd memorised the drill - this wasn't his first time flying - he didn't miss a second of it, just in case he'd forgotten anything. Then he grabbed the safety card from his seat pocket and studied it obsessively as the attendants stepped away.

A few minutes into his frantic reading, he felt Remus' eyes on him.

"What?" he asked, perhaps too sharply.

"Nothing," Remus replied with a grin. "I've just never seen anyone actually read that before."

"Well, lucky you," Sirius quipped, managing a grin. "I'll know how to save you if anything happens."

"The chances of dying in a plane crash are incredibly small. Did you see that video about jelly and turbulence? You're more likely to die in-"

"Can we not talk about dying, please?" Sirius interrupted, his fingers starting to tingle with the onset of panic. The last thing he wanted was to have a full-blown breakdown in front of the most attractive person he'd ever met.

"Sorry," Remus said quietly.

"I just get really nervous about flying."

Remus nodded and remained silent. Sirius closed his eyes and began to practise the square breathing technique Peter had taught him on their flight to New York a few months earlier: inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, pause for four seconds, then repeat.

The moment the plane found its place on the runway and began to take off, Sirius' calm was shattered. Desperately, he gripped the small table between their seats with one hand, while the other fumbled with his seatbelt.

Then another hand covered his, and Sirius instinctively clung to it, its warmth cutting through the icy grip of his panic. It steadied him, grounded him in the present when his mind was about to spiral out of control. Just as when they'd shaken hands earlier, he felt the warmth of Remus' touch. His slender fingers held tightly, and although Sirius was sure his own hand was sweaty, he couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed.

"What's your favourite animal?" Remus asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Favourite band? Colour?"

"I don't know!"

"Come on, Sirius."

Sirius opened his eyes, struggling to breathe as the plane lifted off the ground. On the verge of panic, he blurted out, "Dogs. The Marauders. Red. You?"

"Dogs. Bowie. Green."

Sirius nodded, slowly regaining his composure as the plane leveled off and the flight attendants announced that it was safe to move about the cabin. Slightly convinced that the worst was over, he reluctantly let go of Remus' hand and settled into his seat, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

"Thanks," he laughed sheepishly. "I've always hated planes. My mum used to drag me on them all the time."

"Don't mention it. I've got my own fears," Remus replied. Sirius glanced over and caught a soft smile lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling even at this late hour.

Probably trying to distract him, Remus pulled a bag from his seat and fished out a pair of pyjamas.

"Do they always give these out?" he asked, inspecting the set with amusement.

"Yeah, they're quite nice, actually," Sirius replied, imitating him and rummaging through his own amenity kit. "Look, there's a pen too. I guess I can return yours now."

Remus chuckled. "No need, I was joking earlier."

Sirius smirked and nodded. "Pyjamas then?"

Remus seemed to be weighing his options. He examined the pyjamas, the tiny planes printed on the fabric drawing a faint smile. "Why not? If we crash, I might as well look ridiculous."

Spending time with Remus was strangely reminiscent of the early days of Sirius' friendship with James. Conversation flowed easily, and Sirius didn't have to guess when Remus meant what he said - although it was obvious that he was fluent in sarcasm. The difference was that when Sirius had first met James, everything had been easier. They'd only been eleven, and making friends hadn't been as challenging then as it was now, at twenty two. Despite Sirius' constant exposure to people through his band's activities, he wasn't someone who opened his heart to strangers. Apparently Remus had the same knack as James for making him feel comfortable. Or maybe Sirius just had a weakness for attractive boys who showed interest.

And even if Remus turned out to be a complete prat in the end, it didn't really matter, did it? They wouldn't see each other again once they landed in London.

So when Remus asked about his brother and the fancy jet he'd mentioned during his phone call with Regulus, Sirius just sighed and crossed his legs over his seat, settling in for one of those conversations.

"It's my younger brother's birthday tomorrow," he began. "And the little idiot told Mum that I had missed my flight, so she arranged a private jet to get me there on time."

Remus nodded and remained silent as Sirius went on about how his mother had always been a strict hag who'd spent years trying to win his affection with gifts or money.

"I sort of ran away from home when I was sixteen," Sirius said carefully, looking at Remus for the first time since he'd started his story, expecting a reaction like he'd gotten in the past. But Remus' expression remained impassive - no judgement, no surprise - as he nodded and held his gaze. Relieved, Sirius continued. "I'm the eldest. My parents had this whole plan for me, which involved studying medicine, staying at home until I was forty, and eventually taking over the family pharmaceutical business."

"That sounds like a successful plan, but honestly, I can't see you going down that road," Remus observed.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Sirius replied, drawing a laugh from the boy. "Seriously! My whole teenage life I was told that I was destined for the business. My tutors were convinced I wouldn't even have to try to outdo my father."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "So where did you go? When you ran away, that is."

"To James'. He's my best mate, I think you'd like him," Sirius smiled. "I spent more time at his house than mine until I was eighteen and left for good. Tried to take Regulus with me, but the idiot refused, that's the only reason I come back from time to time, to check up on him. Mum still uses him to manipulate me into going home a few times a year."

"Like today?"

"Yeah. He even managed to get me to stay for Christmas too. He doesn't understand that I hate our parents. I hate them, but I have to put up with them for his sake."

Remus looked slightly surprised at the bitterness in Sirius' words. To be honest, Sirius hadn't meant to say that last part, but it had slipped out before he could stop himself. He did hate his parents. His reasons went far beyond their strict upbringing, of course, but Sirius didn't want to go into that.

"But that's enough about me," Sirius said, smiling through his discomfort and shifting in his seat. "What about you? Have you got any siblings?"

Remus didn't seem to be expecting to be under the spotlight, because for a second his expression went completely blank. He quickly caught himself, though, clearing his throat and lowering his gaze as he ran a thoughtful hand over his scar.

"No, I don't," he replied after a moment. "But I have friends. Lily's the closest I've got to a sister. I met her at school and she's been my best friend ever since. She and my mum started a little book club when we were eleven."

"Sounds like she's very cultured," Sirius said, smiling with interest.

"Oh, she is. She's the smartest girl I know," Remus replied, smiling fondly. Sirius couldn't help the heavy feeling that settled in his stomach at the sight of that smile. It was different to the ones he'd seen before... full of genuine affection. "The book club was her idea, and it was also my first real introduction to books. I suppose when I graduate I'll have to thank her for setting me on this path."

Sirius chuckled. Remus' book sat on the small table between them and it was immediately clear that he had a particular way of reading. The edges of the book were battered, as if it had been shoved into bags or coat pockets without much thought, and the spine was well worn, obviously broken for easier reading.

"My mother would've beaten me if she'd ever seen one of my books in this state," Sirius said without thinking. "It's barbaric."

"It's practical," Remus replied, raising an eyebrow. "But if you think the outside is bad, you probably shouldn't look inside."

Sirius wrinkled his nose and made a move to grab the book, but Remus was quicker and tucked it safely between his seat and his leg, out of Sirius' reach.

"Nice try, but I don't share my annotations that easily."

"Oh? Do I have to join your mum's club to read them?"

"Yes. Maybe after three meetings I'll share some with you."

"How pretentious."

“Come on, do you happen to be the type to share your biggest secrets on a first date?”

Sirius froze mid-laugh. Hadn't he done exactly that, in a way? They hadn't even been on one date and he'd already talked about his family problems. Sirius never talked about that - not even on the tenth date.

“Is that how it works, then? Like dates?" Sirius asked, pretending that the comment hadn't caused an internal conflict. "Let's see... We went for a smoke, had a meal together, and now we're on a plane wearing matching pyjamas. Doesn't that sound like a third date?"

Remus looked startled but laughed, shaking his head.

"Good evening, gentlemen," one of the flight attendants appeared from the front of the cabin. "Can I get you anything to eat?"

Sirius looked at Remus with a mischievous grin. "Dinner on the fourth date, eh? We're moving fast."

"Let me read one of your annotations and I'll trade you my dessert," Sirius offered for the tenth time after failing to bribe him with his chicken, drink and salad.

"Nah, you might as well give up," Remus replied, finishing the last of his tea.

"Ugh, you're insufferable."

"And you're nosy."

"Says the one who asked for details of my family problems as if we were discussing the weather."

Remus frowned and turned to him, clearly offended.

"I didn't force you to answer any of that."

Sirius didn't reply, instead shifting in his seat and pretending to be more interested in the flight attendants who were making their rounds collecting empty plates.

"I can't let you see my annotations," Remus said after a pause. "But you can ask me something. Anything."

Sirius perked up immediately and turned back to him with renewed energy. There were so many things he wanted to ask. His number, for starters. Or what his favourite book was. Or if he'd ever come to hear his band play if he invited him. But as soon as he saw Remus' face, the first question that came out of his mouth was probably the worst he could have chosen.

"Your scar - how did it happen?"

If Remus had shut down at the question of siblings, this was a thousand times worse. His eyes seemed to lose focus, as if the mere mention of the subject had dredged up a tormenting memory.

"It was a car accident," Remus finally said, his voice strained. It wasn't the answer he'd expected, but Sirius nodded solemnly, waiting for him to elaborate. Instead, Remus just cleared his throat, snapping out of his daze, and stood up.

"Anyway, I need to use the loo and try and get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Oh," Sirius nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. "Of course."

But I told you about my parents , he thought as he watched Remus walk away. I never tell anyone about my parents .

Sirius woke with two hours to spare before landing. At some point he'd dozed off during the flight, shortly after Remus had returned from the loo and, as if nothing unusual had happened, had casually suggested that they "catch a film" together. After some light-hearted debate, they'd settled on a romantic comedy that played on Sirius' screen. He'd never know how it ended.

Now Remus was hunched over the small table between their seats, scribbling intently on a napkin with the stubby pencil from their amenity kits. He was unaware that Sirius was awake, so Sirius remained silent, taking the opportunity to watch him.

It was a pleasant surprise to see that Remus wasn't all that different when he wasn't conscious that anyone was watching. He had the same calm expression, though his intense concentration made him seem more serious. The sunlight streaming through the windows illuminated the strands of his hair a dark gold and brought out his freckles, which were more pronounced now that it was daylight. Remus licked his lips, then nibbled absentmindedly at the end of the pen, his face thoughtful. Sirius felt a familiar flutter in his stomach at the sight.

"Writing a Christmas toast?" he asked, stretching slightly to loosen the stiffness in his limbs. If he continued to stare in silence, he was likely to spiral into feelings he wasn't sure he was ready to face.

Remus looked up and smiled. The warmth in his eyes had returned, soft and comforting as ever. Sirius felt a wave of relief - at least his clumsy question earlier hadn't caused any lasting damage.

"Something like that, yeah," Remus replied, folding the napkin and tucking it into the pages of his book. "I doubt I'll have time when we land."

"I should probably do the same," Sirius said, frowning. "I'll probably have to go to one of my family's fancy dinners. And I haven't even packed a suit."

Remus laughed. "Borrow one from your brother."

“Nah, he’s way too small.”

"Is that even possible? I thought you were the smallest size available," Remus teased.

"Oi, my height is perfectly attractive, you beanpole."

"It is," Remus said, holding his gaze for a moment before stretching as well. Sirius hadn't expected that answer, and for a moment his face betrayed his flustered state. Thankfully, Remus spared him by speaking again. "We should get out of these pyjamas. The others will want to use the loo soon and we'll be waiting for ages."

It turned out that the others had the same idea. By the time they reached the lavatories, they were both occupied. Still in their pyjamas and holding their bags of clothes, Sirius and Remus stood awkwardly in the narrow corridor.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a flight attendant said as she passed, prompting Remus to step forward to let her through. Sirius suddenly realised how tall Remus was. Standing so close to him, he could barely see over his shoulders.

God, they were so close. Sirius could have counted his freckles if he had had the time - or the nerve. Apparently, he wasn't the only one to notice the proximity. Even after the attendant had passed, Remus didn't move away. Instead, he seemed to notice something in Sirius' eyes, for he held his gaze with an intensity that made Sirius' heart race.

Were their faces coming closer? Was it Sirius leaning in, or was it Remus? He couldn't tell. All it would take was for one of them to lean forward just a little more-

The lavatory door suddenly swung open and slammed Sirius into Remus with a thud.

"Ouch!"

Remus caught him by the arms before he could stumble, and Sirius turned to see an elderly woman coming out of the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, dear!" she said. "The door got stuck."

"S'fine," Sirius muttered, rubbing his head and cursing silently.

“You okay?” Remus asked, still holding his arm with surprising steadiness, his brow furrowed in genuine concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," Sirius replied, though his tone was sharper than he had intended. Damn it. He'd wanted to kiss him. If Remus had leaned in, he wouldn't have stopped him. He wouldn't even have hesitated. But of course, old ladies always seemed hell-bent on ruining his luck, either with their cursed luggage or their infernal loo doors.

The other lavatory door clicked open and Remus gave him a small, unreadable smile before slipping in without a word. Sirius stood frozen for a moment, muttering grumpily to himself as he made his way to the now empty loo.

What could he do? Neither of them had made a move and the moment had vanished like steam. Time was running out. Soon Remus would be gone, just another face in the crowd that Sirius would probably never see again.

Perhaps it was for the best, he thought bitterly, closing the door behind him. Better to leave things uncertain, the "what ifs" hanging in the air, than to face the pain of a goodbye that felt all too final.

Chapter Text

It took Remus ten minutes longer than him to emerge from the lavatory. By then, Sirius had returned to his seat, fastened his seatbelt and opened his notebook, though his restless hands betrayed any attempt to remain calm. His heart was racing and his leg was bouncing with nervous energy. He couldn't decide what he wanted more: for Remus to return or for him to stay away.

There was no way that what had just happened outside the lavatories could have escaped his notice, although in the last few minutes Sirius had almost managed to convince himself that they hadn't been that close for that long. Maybe Remus hadn't been staring at him as if he'd just discovered some incredible secret in his eyes. Maybe Remus didn't even like men.

His fingers flicked absentmindedly through the pages of the notebook until he landed on one covered in doodles. In the middle were a few scattered lyrics, hastily written when inspiration had struck, surrounded by rough sketches of stars and moons. His eyes lingered on the words, tracing them one by one, recalling a moment that had been lost to him until now.

He’s the thunder rolling soft in the skies,

Caramel fire burns in his eyes.

Golden whispers caught in his hair,

A quiet enigma beyond compare.

A strange warmth stirred in his chest. He didn't remember writing it, but for all he knew it could have been a few minutes ago, as he watched the morning sun caress Remus' features. It was as if a past version of himself had glimpsed the future - or perhaps he'd silently wished for something (or someone) as he wrote those words, and now it was coming true.

Was it, though? Remus had listened to him talk about his family, his band and his dreams, but Sirius knew very little about him. Whenever a deep subject came up, Remus would shut down completely. So why did it suddenly feel like meeting him was something that was always meant to happen? And why did knowing that they had less than two hours together feel like such a profound loss?

His fingers brushed the page of the notebook and before he could think twice, he picked up the airline pen that Remus had left on the table and began to write in the margins.

Somewhere, the words I didn’t know I needed

Were written in the warmth of you.

"Inspiration struck again?"

Sirius might have jumped through the ceiling of the plane if it hadn't been for his seatbelt. He quickly dog-eared the page and snapped the notebook shut, tucking it back into his jacket.

"Just adding notes to some old lyrics," he replied, carefully avoiding the fact that he was writing about him. Again.

Remus nodded and settled back into his seat, but several moments passed and he didn't say another word. In fact, he didn't even look at Sirius.

“You all right?” Sirius asked, noticing the slight concern in his expression. Remus just smiled without turning to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said.

Sirius didn't believe him, but nodded anyway and turned away with a slight huff. Without his notebook, his hands hovered idly before he began tapping his thighs to the rhythm of one of his band's songs. It hadn't even been a day since he'd left his friends and already he missed their constant banter and noise. The silence felt heavier than he expected.

"Actually, there's something I want to tell you," Remus said suddenly, breaking the silence. Sirius turned to him, startled.

"Oh? What's that?"

Remus smiled, a hint of shyness creeping into his expression as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I know who you are."

Sirius frowned, tilting his head. "O...kay?"

"I mean, I knew before we met at the airport," Remus admitted, wincing slightly. "I've seen your band perform a few times. A friend of mine is a big fan, but… I don't know. I didn't want to make things weird, and to be honest, I didn't think we'd end up spending this much time together".

Sirius stared at him, slack jawed, completely caught off guard. For a moment he wasn't sure whether to be flattered, surprised or alarmed. Whatever he was thinking must have been written all over his face, because Remus' shoulders slumped, his posture drained of all confidence, as if he'd just confessed to a terrible crime.

"I'm really sorry, Sirius," Remus said softly.

"No! Don't apologise," Sirius said quickly, biting his thumbnail as his mind replayed their conversations, searching for clues. Then it clicked - right at the beginning. "Wait. Is that why you said you'd been to Williamsburg?"

A small, shy smile tugged at Remus’ lips. “Yeah. Mary took me to see you a couple of times. She's my friend who's a big fan, by the way."

Sirius nodded, still reeling. He supposed he should have been disturbed - or at least mildly concerned. Meeting someone who already knew him, but chose not to say so, had the makings of a cautionary tale. But rather than fall into that spiral, he unfastened his seatbelt and turned to face Remus fully. Beneath the shock of it all, a thought had been nagging at him, weaving its way through every imagined scenario he'd had in his head over the past seven hours.

"So?" Sirius asked, leaning forward. "What did you think?"

"Sorry?"

"The band," he clarified, his gaze intent. "Did you like us?"

Remus blinked, taken aback by the shift in the conversation. For a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes before being replaced by something brighter - something Sirius realised he liked to see.

"Oh," Remus said, his lips curving into a bashful smile. “Yeah, your band’s brilliant.” He hesitated, then added more softly, "You're brilliant."

The fluttering in Sirius' stomach returned, more strongly this time, forcing him to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something absurd like, Why didn't you kiss me earlier? or I know you too - I wrote about you ages ago without even realising it .

"Thanks," he said instead, and then, before he could think better of it, added, "You're brilliant too."

Remus blinked, clearly startled, and Sirius felt the heat rise in his cheeks. What the hell was that, you idiot?

"Not everyone would pretend not to know someone for this long," he said quickly, trying to smooth over the moment with an exaggerated laugh. "You surprised me, but I'm glad you like the band. My mates are going to laugh themselves sick when they hear this story."

Remus grinned, his expression relaxing. "You mean the good-looking guitarist with glasses, the possessed drummer and the bass player who looks like Victoria De Angelis?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes, feigning suspicion. "Are you sure you've only seen us a couple of times? That's… eerily accurate."

"Only a couple of times," Remus replied, his chuckle soft but disarming. "Once you learn to read between lines and metaphors, you start noticing details others might miss."

Intrigued, Sirius leaned forward slightly. "All right then, Mr. Detail-Noticer. What did you notice about me when you watched us play?"

Remus held his gaze for a long moment, as if considering. Finally, a smile tugged at his lips and his voice dropped just enough to make Sirius' heart stutter.

"That you're a star," he said simply. "Not just because of your name, mind you. On stage, you shine like one. Everything else just… orbits around you."

Sirius swallowed hard, his throat tightening as if his pounding heart had lodged itself there. Remus held his gaze a moment longer, then glanced away, leaving Sirius in a daze.

"You really know how to inflate someone's ego," Sirius quipped, aiming for nonchalance. “That’s going straight to my head, you know.”

Remus smiled faintly. "Actually… when we first talked, you surprised me."

Sirius turned to him, intrigued. "Oh? How so?"

"Well, on stage you're all daring charisma and brilliance. I thought you'd be..."

"An arrogant prat?" Sirius finished, raising an eyebrow.

Remus shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe. Don't blame me, though. I'd probably be an arrogant prat if I had your talent."

Sirius laughed, equal parts disbelief and amusement. But underneath the humour, a strange warmth settled in his chest. It felt as if fate had been working overtime to arrange this meeting. How had they shared the same air, the same moments, without their paths crossing before?

If he'd seen Remus in the crowd at one of their shows, Sirius thought, he would have left the stage without a second's hesitation - just to ask his name.

"You've got talent too," Sirius said after a thoughtful pause. "You have to, to pull off an exchange like yours, don't you?"

Remus gave a quick smile, a faint glimmer of humour in his eyes. "Not always. Sometimes you just need a lot of money."

Sirius chuckled and lightly patted his shoulder. "Fair enough. But I think you're being a bit modest."

"All right, fine," Remus relented, his smile softening into something more genuine. "I'm good at what I do. Books have always been my thing - a way to escape, I suppose."

"Escape from what?" The question slipped out before Sirius could catch it, and he winced inwardly. He saw the change immediately - Remus' gaze turned away, retreating into thoughts that seemed heavy and private. Sirius braced himself for the withdrawal he feared he'd caused.

But instead, Remus sighed, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the scar on his face. The movement was soft, almost unconscious.

"The accident I mentioned earlier…" Remus began, his voice low as his hands dropped heavily to his legs. "It was when I was fourteen. Mum had come to get me from a party I'd gone to without permission." He gave a weak, bitter laugh. "We were arguing. I wanted more freedom, like any stupid teenager, and she wanted me to be careful, to listen to her. I kept pushing, distracting her, and then… we crashed." His voice cracked slightly, and he looked away, licking his lips as if to steel himself for the next part. "She… she was pregnant."

Sirius froze, the weight of those words sinking into his chest like a stone. Pregnant. Remus had said he didn't have any siblings, so...

"Oh, Remus," Sirius murmured, his hand instinctively reaching out to comfort him. But the moment his fingers brushed Remus', the other boy flinched and pulled away as if burned.

"Don't," Remus said firmly, his voice full of a mixture of frustration and pain. His frown deepened as he held Sirius' gaze, unyielding. "Don't tell me it wasn't my fault. Don't tell me you're sorry. That’s not what I need."

Sirius withdrew his hand immediately, nodding as a wave of guilt and helplessness churned in his stomach. The urge to say something, anything, rose in his throat, but he swallowed it. What could he possibly offer that Remus hadn't heard a hundred times before, each word likely to ring hollow?

"What's your favourite book?" Sirius asked instead, carefully meeting Remus' gaze.

"What?" Remus blinked, startled.

"You said books were an escape for you. So... what's your favourite?"

Remus hesitated, and Sirius noticed the glint of a tear clinging to one of his eyelashes. The urge to brush it away was almost overwhelming, but he forced himself to stay still. After a long moment, Remus smiled weakly.

" To Kill a Mockingbird, " he said. "It was the first book my mum chose for the book club. I don't particularly like it, but it reminds me of…"

"Better times," Sirius finished for him quietly.

"Yeah."

Sirius nodded, his own memories stirring. His mother had made him read the book as well, though her strict supervision often took the joy out of any story. Still, he understood the power of returning to something - or someone - that made the world feel lighter, if only for a moment.

"And the one you're reading now?" Sirius asked, nodding at the well-worn copy of Babel that lay protectively next to Remus. "What's it about?"

Remus looked down, running his fingers over the creased cover as if it held a secret. His lips twitched in a small, wry smile.

"It's about the magical and destructive power of words - and how systemic injustice can both build and destroy empires."

"Sounds heavy."

"It is," Remus' smile turned playful. "There's also a little homoerotic subtext here and there, but that's just a detail."

He gave Sirius a meaningful look, as if waiting for a reaction. Sirius felt the slightest blush creep up his neck, but grinned instead.

"Now I really want to read it," he said, laughing nervously.

Remus chuckled, his smile softening. "You should. Even if it sometimes feels like sitting through a lecture on translation theory, it's worth it. Tackles big issues."

"Maybe I will. But only if you let me read your annotations," Sirius quipped, trying his luck again.

With a quick, decisive movement, Remus tucked the book out of sight.

"Nice try, Black."

The plane touched down at Heathrow Airport at 1:47 pm on the 23rd of December. By then, Sirius and Remus had shared a light breakfast and meandered through topics ranging from books and music to the chances of their paths crossing before their first conversation at the airport. Remus insisted that the chances were slim - he'd only been to Williamsburg a couple of times to see The Marauders. But Sirius couldn't shake the certainty. What else could explain the scribbled notes in his notebook - the flashes of someone he'd never met, but somehow knew?

As they approached the airport exit, Remus reached out to give Sirius a gentle tug on his jacket. "Isn't that your name?" he asked, adjusting his backpack as he glanced at the group of people holding name signs in the greeting area.

Sirius, juggling his guitar and case, squinted at the sign and let out a frustrated groan. Recognition dawned with annoyance. "Bloody hell, not again," he muttered, turning abruptly towards another exit.

"What is it?" Remus followed him, confused. "Isn't he waiting for you?"

"That's one of Mum's drivers."

"And you're just leaving him there?"

"Of course I am," Sirius replied with a grin, as if the very idea of cooperating amused him. "Ditching him' is practically a tradition at this point."

Of course his mother had a backup plan. As they approached the alternative exit, another man in a sharp suit materialised in their path, cutting them off with the serenity of someone used to being obeyed. Unlike the first, this one wasn't holding a sign, but Sirius recognised him instantly.

"Young Sirius," the man greeted with a curt bow.

"Hello, Geoffrey," Sirius replied in a clipped tone. "Doing the witch's dirty work, are we?"

Remus stifled a laugh, but Geoffrey - ever the dutiful butler of the Black family - remained unamused.

"Simply following orders, sir," Geoffrey replied with the faintest hint of a smile.

Before Sirius could move, the first man joined them, his dark sunglasses and rigid posture exuding quiet authority.

"Mr. Collins," Sirius said dryly. "Appreciate the effort, but I've got this. No need to chauffeur me home."

He moved to push past them, only to have his path blocked again. Behind him, frustrated travellers grumbled as they navigated around the impromptu standoff.

"We have very specific orders, young Sirius," Geoffrey said calmly. His polite tone hardened slightly as he added, "Given your two-hour delay, I doubt you'd want to upset your mother - or your brother - any further."

Sirius gnawed at his thumbnail, his mind racing. Sure, hitching a ride with the family entourage would be faster, but that meant parting ways with Remus - and Sirius wasn't ready for that.

"Fine," he said abruptly. “But my friend’s coming too.” He nodded at Remus, who looked caught off guard.

Geoffrey and Collins turned their attention to Remus for the first time, their gazes sharp and appraising.

"That's not necessary," Remus interjected hastily. "I live far away anyway."

"Hampstead, isn't it? Mum's house isn't far - you can come with me," Sirius said quickly.

"We're not going to Grimmauld Place, young Sirius," Geoffrey's calm but firm voice cut in. "The celebrations for young Regulus' birthday are at the Hurlingham Club."

Sirius stiffened. He barely suppressed a groan as his brain connected the dots: the club was in the opposite direction to Hampstead.

"Then drop me off at the club," Sirius insisted, determination sparking in his eyes, "and take Remus home after."

"Sirius, it's really not necessary," Remus said gently, his hand brushing against Sirius' arm, grounding him for a moment. "You're already late; we should just go."

"But-" Sirius began, his frustration spilling over.

"Young Sirius, your mother-"

"I don't give a fuck what my mother thinks!" he snapped, his voice louder than intended, startling everyone. Why couldn't they see? Letting Remus go now felt impossible, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Sirius, give me your phone," Remus said suddenly, his voice calm but insistent.

"What?" Sirius blinked, thrown by the shift.

"Your phone," Remus repeated, holding out his hand. "Quickly."

Sirius pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he handed it over. Remus typed quickly, his expression calm and steady, before returning it with a small, meaningful smile.

"That's my number, save it," he said, his voice soft as he took a step back towards the doors. "I'll see you later, alright?"

Sirius froze, staring at the screen. Remus' number glowed back at him, the call button ready to be pressed. The number he'd wanted to ask for a dozen times on the plane, but hadn't dared.

"Yes! I'll call you!" Sirius blurted, his voice carried far too loudly over the terminal. He immediately blushed, but Remus just smiled and kept walking towards the waiting taxis.

Sirius watched, willing him to glance back just once, to meet his eyes again before disappearing into the crowd. But Remus didn't turn, instead vanishing into the chaos of travellers.

Before Sirius could think of following, Geoffrey's voice broke through.

"Young Sirius, we really must go now."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me a second to save Remus'-"

The words caught in his throat as the neck of his guitar swung forward, hitting him in the head with a thud. The force knocked his phone out of his hand, sending it skidding across the floor.

"Fuck," Sirius hissed, rubbing his head and spinning around. An elderly woman stood nearby, dragging a suitcase half her size, her frail arms struggling to steady it.

"So sorry, dear! This case has a mind of its own," she chirped as she wobbled towards the exit.

Sirius dropped to his knees and grabbed his phone with a sinking feeling. A cobweb crack shattered the screen, and pressing the power button brought no response.

His heart dropped. He hadn't saved the number.

Chapter Text

The Black family car pulled into the Hurlingham Club after fifty minutes of crawling through the relentless traffic of the days leading up to Christmas. Sirius had abandoned his failed attempt to spot Remus in the crowd to ask for his number again, only to be thwarted by Geoffrey and Mr Collins, who had practically bundled him into the car.

As soon as his phone had sprung to life after being plugged into the car charger, Sirius had scrolled frantically through his contacts, even though he knew he hadn't saved Remus' number. A call from James was the only thing that had managed to interrupt his search.

"You said you'd ring when you landed," James had said, his tone a mixture of concern and mild reproach.

"Sorry, mate," Sirius had wrinkled his nose in guilt. After his abrupt goodbye to Remus, he'd completely forgotten to check in. "Can't talk now - Mum's goons kidnapped me. I'll explain later, promise."

The butler had given him a disapproving look, which Sirius had returned with a cocky grin. Fortunately, James hadn't pushed any further, apparently reassured that Sirius was alive and well.

The rest of the journey had been in silence. Sirius had stared out the window, replaying every moment of the few hours he'd shared with Remus, suffering a loss he'd never expected. He'd clung to those memories like a lifeline as the car navigated the busy streets of London, his thoughts racing until the car had come to a halt outside the club.

Mr Collins opened the door, snapping Sirius out of his reverie. He stepped out, moving with the detached apathy of a man on his way to the gallows. The Hurlingham Club exuded its usual air of exclusivity, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been here too many times and the memories were far from pleasant.

Without a glance at the grand facade, he shuffled towards the entrance, his mind already elsewhere.

Then he came to an abrupt halt. Only a few metres away, standing by the main door, there she was. The elegant navy dress she wore only accentuated the pallor of her skin and the steely grey of her eyes. Walburga Black stood like a porcelain doll. Sirius often described her as a bitter old witch, but he couldn't deny that his mother looked far younger than her years - whether it was the result of surgery, inbreeding or simply a lifetime spent draining the energy from everyone around her.

"You're late," Walburga announced, her voice firm and commanding, a tone Sirius hadn't heard in any other register since he was eleven.

“Lovely to see you too, Mum,” he replied, a smirk curling his lips as sarcasm dripped from his words.

Walburga placed her hands on her hips in a gesture that perfectly embodied her characteristic annoyance.

"The celebration began over two hours ago," she snapped, her tone icy and clipped, as if berating an unruly subordinate. "I thought it was more important for you to see your brother."

"It is. That's why I'm here, isn't it?" Sirius shrugged, feigning indifference.

Walburga said nothing more, but her eyes swept over him, from head to toe, with the cold precision of someone assessing whether an argument was worth the effort. Her expression was clear: Sirius, carrying a guitar case in his battered leather jacket and torn jeans, was as out of place as a dragon in a chicken coop. Of course, he couldn't have cared less.

"Where is he?" he eventually asked, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and fiddling absentmindedly with his lighter.

Walburga's scowl deepened, her lips curled in contempt, as if she were considering whether to let him through the door at all. Before she could utter any sharp remarks, the door opened behind her.

Regulus stepped through, moving with the calculated grace that always seemed to define him.

"Well, look who decided to show up," Sirius said, a smile tugging at his lips, wavering between teasing and genuine warmth. "The world's most idiotic little brother."

Regulus glared at him, his posture rigid, exuding the precision and poise their mother always demanded of him. His immaculately tailored suit, neatly combed hair and flawless complexion painted a picture of near perfection - almost too perfect. But Sirius could see beyond the polished exterior; somewhere beneath all the airs and graces, Regulus was still just his little brother.

“Idiot,” Regulus muttered as he drew closer.

“Prick.”

“Layabout.”

“Mummy’s boy.”

By the time the last insult had been exchanged, Regulus was close enough for Sirius to pull him into a hug. Though hesitant at first, Regulus eventually reciprocated, his arms encircling Sirius with a mix of uncertainty and familiarity. They hadn’t been strangers in the years since Sirius had left Grimmauld Place, but stepping into this family gathering made it feel like a long-overdue reunion.

"I didn't think you'd come," Regulus murmured, holding on a moment longer than Sirius expected.

Sirius inhaled the faint scent of his brother's cologne, mixed with the familiar scent of his shampoo. It was the same as before, unchanged.

"Of course I came. I always turn up, don't I?" Sirius replied, his grin easy and carefree.

Regulus didn't answer, but he didn't pull away either. Their embrace lasted until Walburga's voice cut through the moment like a blade, making them both stiffen.

"Regulus, darling, you're going to ruin your suit if you keep clinging like that," she said, her stern tone softening slightly as she addressed her younger son. "Take your brother to change. It's rude to leave our guests unattended."

"Yes, Mother," Regulus replied automatically, his voice clipped. He stepped away from Sirius, his expression tense and laced with irritation. "Come. Follow me."

Sirius followed Regulus reluctantly, his hands shoved into his pockets, each step feeling heavier than the last. He knew his mother wouldn't let him near the party dressed as he was, but the idea of conforming to her expectations - even for one evening - gnawed at him.

The room Regulus led him into was as immaculate as he remembered from similar occasions: gilded mirrors, heavy curtains and a faint scent of lavender that reminded Sirius of all the times he'd been forced into situations like this. Regulus gestured to the suit he had chosen, hanging on a polished mahogany rack, and Sirius couldn't help but grin as he saw it.

"I know you hate suits," Regulus began, his tone weary but firm, "but you know how Mum is."

The outfit was simple yet oddly striking. Instead of a traditional shirt, there was one made of black lace, which would surely infuriate Walburga. Sirius raised an eyebrow, his grin widening.

"What's got into you, little brother?" he asked, stepping closer and grabbing Regulus' shoulders as if to check for signs of possession.

"What are you on about?" Regulus growled, brushing Sirius off with his usual irritation.

"I don't know." Sirius shrugged and leaned against the edge of a nearby table with an exaggerated air of thoughtfulness. "I thought you'd spend the evening torturing me or hurling insults at me, not finding me something less excruciating to wear."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to make my birthday as normal as possible. You know, without you and Mum trying to kill each other for once."

"Mhm," Sirius hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tricky, considering she's the one who can't keep her claws to herself."

"Claws wouldn't be necessary if you weren't such a threat to the family," Regulus snapped, the words sharp and practised.

The remark was sharper than it had any right to be, cutting through Sirius like a knife. He'd heard variations of it a hundred times before, but hearing it here today, from Regulus of all people, felt like a betrayal all over again.

Four years of avoiding family gatherings , Sirius thought bitterly, and this is what I get .

He stared at the suit for a moment, as if it were some grotesque challenge to his identity. Every fibre of his being wanted to push back, to walk out of the room and show them all that he wouldn't bow to their expectations. But Regulus' expression stopped him. There was a flicker of something in his brother's eyes - not the cold detachment Sirius had come to expect, but something softer, almost pleading.

With a heavy sigh, Sirius took the outfit from the rack. "Fine," he muttered, his voice clipped, "but only because I refuse to let her ruin your party."

Regulus didn't reply, but his fingers twitched restlessly as Sirius disappeared into the bathroom.

Inside, Sirius glanced at his reflection in the mirror as he changed. The lace shirt clung to him, delicate and slightly revealing - a stark contrast to the leather armour he usually wore. In other circumstances, he might have appreciated it. Now, though, he tugged at it with a grimace, feeling uncomfortably out of place, even though it was leagues better than formal wear.

This isn't me , he thought bitterly, but then again, none of this is me .

When he emerged, Regulus was waiting in the same place. "Not bad," he said, eyeing Sirius with a mixture of approval and amusement.

"Don't get used to it," Sirius shot back, pulling his lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket as if to remind himself who he really was.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Regulus said, turning to lead the way back to the party.

Sirius followed, the lace a subtle itch on his skin and his brother's earlier words a sharper one in his chest.

The grand interiors of the Hurlingham Club provided a refuge from the bitter December cold, and its extensive green spaces - ideal for summer gatherings - remained unused. True to Walburga Black's meticulous standards, the event exuded elegance. The decor was dominated by shades of silver and green, a subtle nod to Regulus's taste and his lifelong obsession with these colours. 

The guest list consisted of business associates of Sirius' parents and extended family members - hardly the sort of company Sirius enjoyed. While he usually thrived in the spotlight, the Black family events attracted a crowd he found intolerable.

Fortunately, the day-long celebration featured several themed rooms, allowing him to avoid annoying relatives. In the main hall, his cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa captivated the room with a piano and vocal performance, earning the enthusiastic praise of their parents, Cygnus and Druella. Sirius smiled at the thought of interrupting their refined performance with a raucous number from his band, imagining the uproar it would cause.

Sirius and Regulus joined the party together, their arrival attracting the attention of several onlookers who, of course, hadn't expected to see the eldest Black brother after so many years. Despite Sirius' attempts to blend into the background, his lace shirt and relaxed stride contrasted sharply with Regulus' poised elegance, making them an incongruous pair.

Walburga materialised beside them with her uncanny knack for appearing unannounced. She gave them both a sharp look, her piercing eyes lingering on Sirius' clothes.

"Am I respectable enough now, Mum?" Sirius asked.

"Barely," she replied coolly, looking around them as if to check if anyone was overhearing. "You should mingle. Make yourselves visible to the guests - together. It's important that people see the Black Brothers united."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Because we're such shining examples of family harmony?"

Walburga's lips tightened, her gaze cutting into him like steel. "Do as you're told for once, Sirius."

Regulus stepped in before Sirius could escalate the situation any further. "We'll do our best, Mother," he said, his tone neutral but firm. He took Sirius by the elbow and led him deeper into the room, away from their mother's sharp gaze.

"Don't let her get to you," Regulus murmured, maintaining a polite smile for the guests who greeted them as they passed.

"She's a menace," Sirius muttered, shaking off his brother's hand as frustration lingered. "Talks to me like I'm a bloody child."

"You kind of are," Regulus quipped, a slight grin tugging at his lips.

"Ha ha, very funny," Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a slight grin.

As they navigated the room, Sirius caught sight of a small group on the other side of the room. Pandora Rosier's striking platinum hair stood out immediately, her animated gestures captivating her audience. Her twin, Evan, and Barty Crouch Jr. flanked her, their sharp suits and polished demeanour reminiscent of the boys Sirius had once reluctantly tolerated.

"Reg! Where have you been?" Pandora exclaimed as they approached, drawing the attention of the two boys standing with her. All three quickly noticed Sirius and their surprise was unmistakable.

"Am I seeing things, Evan?" Barty asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Must be something in the champagne, Crouch," Evan replied, mirroring the grin before reaching out to Sirius, who shook his hand with little enthusiasm.

"Having fun, are we?" Sirius asked, offering a perfunctory handshake to Barty and Pandora as well.

"Do you actually want an answer?" Barty quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"In my opinion," Pandora interjected, "it's an exquisite party. The ice sculpture in the main hall is stunning - I wish I could take it home with me."

Evan chuckled. "Pandora, not everything beautiful has to end up in our living room."

"She's not taking it home, she's rescuing it," Barty quipped. "Collecting beauty, one stolen centrepiece at a time."

Pandora rolled her eyes, though a faint smile played on her lips. "It's not stealing, it's inspiration. And I've only done it twice."

"Three times," Evan corrected. "You still have that fountain from Paris."

"That fountain was practically begging to be rescued," Pandora shot back, her tone unapologetic.

Regulus remained silent, simply watching the conversation unfold around him. It was typical of him to keep quiet unless absolutely necessary.

"So it wasn't a lie that you were coming," Barty remarked after a pause. "I thought you'd left this world for your band."

"I suppose I can betray my principles now and again," Sirius shrugged. "Especially after Reg spent five nights crying on the phone, begging me to come."

"Don't listen to him. He's deranged," Regulus cut in, glaring at Sirius. "If anything, he woke up the whole house last night when he missed his bloody flight."

"It wasn't even that late, was it?"

"Sirius, you're aware of the time difference between New York and London, aren't you?"

Sirius froze, suddenly processing what his brother had said. Between the panic of missing his flight, meeting Remus and losing him in the crowd, he hadn't even thought about the time difference or jet lag. Evan was the first to burst out laughing.

"I think I need a cigarette," Sirius muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and scanning the room for a nearby window.

"I know a place we can go," Regulus said, grabbing his wrist and turning to his friends. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Where are we going?" Sirius asked, not expecting an answer. When none came, he shrugged and fell in step behind Regulus, waiting for the destination to reveal itself.

As they wound their way through the club's grounds, Sirius began to recognise the route. They had walked this path countless times as children, sneaking away from dull events to discover the hidden corners of the grounds. The memory came flooding back as they reached a familiar spot: a group of tables and chairs under a large tree, its dense shade a refuge in the summer.

"Feeling nostalgic, little brother?" Sirius asked, dropping into one of the chairs with a casual flop. He propped his feet up on the table, paying no attention to decorum, and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

"I didn't think I could spend another minute in there," Regulus replied curtly, settling into the chair opposite with his usual stiff posture.

"But I thought you were enjoying your party - what with the ice sculptures and Bella's screeching in the main hall," Sirius teased, one eyebrow arched in exaggerated innocence.

Regulus rolled his eyes, letting the remark pass without a response. Instead, he leaned forward and snatched a cigarette from Sirius' pack before his brother could tuck it away. Sirius paused in mid-motion, his eyebrows raised in surprise as Regulus lit the cigarette with a practised ease he hadn't expected. For a moment, Sirius just watched, a flicker of pride and concern crossing his face as Regulus took a measured drag and exhaled, the smoke curling lazily into the cold air.

"I didn't know you smoked," Sirius finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, but there was a faint note of curiosity underneath.

Regulus met his gaze, his grey eyes sharp even in the dim winter light. "Don't tell Mum," he murmured, his voice low but deliberate.

"As if," Sirius replied with a grin, flicking his lighter to light his own cigarette. He took a slow drag and leaned back in his chair, which creaked slightly under his weight. "Besides, I think she's got bigger things to worry about. Her favourite son, for instance."

Regulus didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the branches. For a moment, the only sounds between them were the faint rustling of the winter leaves and the soft crackling of their cigarettes burning down. The club was still beautiful, even in the cold, but this place no longer felt like the magical hideaway of their childhood. Now it was just two young men sitting under a tree, adrift and aimless, clutching their cigarettes as if they held answers.

"I've never been the favourite, you know," Regulus said quietly, turning his head slightly towards Sirius.

Sirius gave a wry smile. "Of course you are. She's soft on you."

Regulus frowned, as if Sirius had just said the most idiotic thing imaginable. "She's not soft on me."

"Yes, she is," Sirius insisted. "She treats you like you're the most fragile thing in the world. She calls you pet names, Reg."

"She's just trying not to lose me like she lost you," Regulus said, his voice tightening. "I'm all she has left, and even then, I'm not enough."

Sirius swallowed hard, the shift in the conversation landing heavily between them. "She didn't lose me. She bloody well pushed me off a cliff."

Regulus sighed and took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke escaping in a thin, deliberate stream. His expression was thoughtful, though irritation lingered in his features. Even though his frustration was obvious, he seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again.

"She cried when you left after your eighteenth birthday, you know," Regulus said, his voice clipped but trembling at the edges. "She hasn't stopped talking about you since - about how you'd be better off if you'd stayed. She's furious that you didn't follow in her footsteps. But after all that moping, she remembers I exist and throws all the pressure on me. Not because she thinks I'm capable, but because I'm your bloody replacement".

Sirius forgot to breathe for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. Walburga had always been a tyrant, making their childhood a maze of impossible expectations and punishments. As a boy, Sirius had thought it was tough love; as a teenager, he learned to see it for what it really was - cruelty, calculated and cold, delivered by a woman whose narcissism made her incapable of true affection.

Now that he was gone, Regulus was her sole target. But why? Why hadn't Regulus left home the moment he turned eighteen? Why hadn't he taken Sirius up on his offer to move in with him? Instead, he'd stayed behind, trapped in that house of horrors, still trying to please them. To make them proud.

It was infuriating.

"You should tell her," Sirius said abruptly, steering the conversation elsewhere.

Regulus frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That you don't want to be a doctor. That was her plan for me, remember? Not for you."

"Mhm. Well, it was the plan for their heir. When you left, the title sort of passed to me, don't you think?"

"You could have said no, Reg. They can't control you like a bloody puppet."

"Why do you care so much?" Regulus snapped, his tone now defensive. "What if I want to be a doctor? What if that is what I really want?"

"You don't want to be a doctor, Reg. Come on."

"You of all people have no idea what I want," Regulus retorted, his voice sharp with barely suppressed anger. "Stop pretending you do. If you knew, you'd never have left."

Sirius winced at the words but held his ground. "I had to leave. There was nothing for me there."

"That's exactly why you don't get it!" Regulus' voice cracked, his composure slipping away. His grey eyes glistened, his frustration on the verge of tears. " I was there, Sirius. And even that wasn't enough for you to stay. I'm never enough - not for you, not for them. So stop interfering and let me live my life. Whether you like it or not, I'm exactly where I want to be."

For a moment Sirius was stunned, unable to formulate a response. He'd expected bitterness, maybe even anger, but this raw confession felt like a knife in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Who in their right mind would choose this life? Who would willingly continue to follow her orders?

And then it hit him.

To make her proud. To win her approval. To scrape together whatever scraps of love she might be able to offer.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled a puff of smoke. "Reg, she'll never give you what you're looking for. You know that, don't you?"

Regulus inhaled sharply, clearly affected, but whatever response he was preparing was cut short by a sharp whistle that sliced through the cold air. Both brothers turned towards the path where a young woman was approaching with confident strides and a hand raised in greeting.

"What a miracle this is, my shining stars!" she exclaimed, her grin as wide as the sky.

Andromeda Black, ever the rebel, had somehow managed to combine a burgundy winter dress with a leather jacket. Walburga would have had a stroke at the sight of her, but Sirius didn't care. He thought his cousin looked positively brilliant.

"Andy!" Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet and striding towards her.

Despite being at least four inches shorter, Andromeda had no problem pulling him into a tight embrace and spinning him around as if he weighed nothing. Her dark brown hair tumbled down her back in wild waves and her laugh rang out, warm and uninhibited.

"You've grown!" she exclaimed, gripping his shoulders and giving him a mock-serious once-over, as if searching for traces of the mischievous fifteen-year-old she'd once known.

"It's the rock star lifestyle," Sirius replied with a cheeky grin.

Andromeda snorted and hugged him once more before making her way to the table. She leaned over to plant a loving, deliberately loud kiss on Regulus' cheek.

"Happy birthday, little cousin," she said brightly.

"Thanks," Regulus murmured, stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray with a nonchalant movement of his fingers.

"Has Sirius infected you with this filthy habit?" she asked, arching an eyebrow in mock indignation as she gestured at the lingering smoke.

"I'm afraid he did it all by himself," Sirius interjected, throwing himself back into his chair with exaggerated flair. He gestured to the seat next to him. "Join us, Andy."

Andromeda didn't hesitate. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lit it with a casual flick and took a long drag.

"How long are you staying?" Andromeda asked, exhaling a lazy cloud of smoke. "I was this close to buying tickets to visit you - I've missed you."

"A few days, maybe until Boxing Day," Sirius replied casually.

"Ignore the 'maybe'. He's already promised to stay," Regulus corrected, giving Sirius a sharp look.

"Oh, fantastic! I'll see you tomorrow then, won't I?" Andromeda's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Sure, guess I can't get away now," Sirius replied with a shrug.

"Wonderful. For a moment, I thought I'd only be able to say hello to you now," she said with relief, turning to Regulus. "Actually, I came here to excuse myself. I have to leave for a few hours."

"Already?" Regulus tilted his head, a faint furrow forming on his forehead.

"Yes, just for a bit. I'll be back before dinner, I promise. I've got a meeting."

"Work?" Sirius asked, looking up, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"Oh no, it's for a book club," Andromeda explained, flicking the ash from her cigarette. "I joined it a few months ago. The founder is very ill... she wanted to have one last meeting, as a sort of farewell. I didn't want to miss it."

Regulus lowered his eyes, the corners of his mouth softening. "That sounds... harsh."

"It is," Andromeda admitted, her smile tinged with sadness. "She'd been in remission from cancer for over a decade, but it's come back aggressively now. So aggressive that even her son has come home. I've only seen photos of him - he went on an exchange to Columbia a few months ago, just before I joined the club. Can't imagine what I'd do if I had to come home to a living funeral."

Something shifted in Sirius. He sat up straighter, the chill of recognition creeping over him. Book club? Columbia? Coming home?

"Andy..." he began, his voice tightening, "do you happen to know her son's name?"

Andromeda hesitated, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray. “Can’t recall the name, but their surname's Lupin,” she said after a moment. "Hope is incredible; she's always teaching something, whether it's literature or life..."

Sirius stopped listening. The words had hit him like a thunderbolt. His fingers twitched and the forgotten cigarette in his hand burned his skin. He barely noticed as he tossed it into the ashtray.

"Andy, I need you to take me to this meeting," he said, his voice shaking with urgency.

Andromeda frowned, clearly taken aback. "Sirius, didn't you hear me? It's more of a memorial. I don't think it's a good idea-"

"I know her son," Sirius interrupted, leaning forward. "I met him. On the plane. We flew together."

"What?" Regulus interjected, his frown deepening.

"It's complicated," Sirius continued hurriedly. "He gave me his number and I lost it before I could save it. I didn't know he was travelling because of his mother."

Andromeda studied him carefully. Whatever she saw in his expression must have convinced her, because her face softened in understanding.

"I'll take you," she said simply.

"Thank you."

"So you're leaving too," Regulus murmured, his shoulders slumping as he reached for his lighter. "You've only just arrived."

"Reg, I promise I'll be back in a few hours," Sirius assured him.

Regulus rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, he waved his hand dismissively and lit the cigarette he'd left in the ashtray.

Sirius hesitated, torn between staying and following Andromeda. He wanted to embrace his brother, to promise that he'd stay as long as Regulus needed him, but something about Remus' situation gnawed at him. Finally he turned and followed Andromeda towards the car park, his legs unsteady under him.

Remus was probably in a library somewhere, preparing for one of the hardest days of his life. Sirius doubted he'd be of much use, but he had to find him. He had to be there - for whatever it was worth.

The drive to Hampstead might have dragged on had it not been for Andromeda's uncanny ability to navigate London's maze of streets while curating the perfect playlist.

"Do you like my selection?" she asked, grinning as she adjusted the volume. "I'm sure there's a track or two of The Marauders hidden in there somewhere."

"Really? Oh, Andy, you flatter me," Sirius replied, placing his hand over his heart in mock appreciation. Only then did he notice how erratically it was beating.

His eyes drifted out the window, the familiar London skyline blurring as doubts crept in. Did he really have to go? Wouldn't it have been easier to ask Andy for his number instead? And what if Remus didn't want to see him in such a personal, painful setting? His chest tightened with each unanswered question and he opened the window, hoping the cool air would help.

Why hadn't Remus told him about his mother?

"So you met the Lupin boy on the plane?" Andy asked as they stopped at a red light. "What are the chances?"

"No idea, really," Sirius murmured, his hand still clasped to his chest. "I just... I don't know, Andy, it's impossible not to like Remus. He's kind and sarcastic and I thought I'd got to know him pretty well in those few hours, but..."

"He didn't mention his mum," Andy finished gently, turning down the music.

Sirius nodded pathetically.

"Oh, I get it," she continued. "But it's a touchy subject, isn't it? Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it. When someone you love is going through something so terrible, bringing it up can feel like... rubbing salt in the wound."

Sirius exhaled slowly, trying to relieve the weight on his chest. She was right, of course. Remus had every right to keep this to himself. Grief was messy, personal and hard to share with someone you'd only just met. Still, Sirius wished he'd known. He wished he could have done something - anything - to make it easier.

As they approached Hampstead Library, its looming facade came into view. Andy parked the car outside and reached into the glove compartment, rummaging through scattered papers before pulling out a slightly battered copy of The Little Prince.

“I’ll need this,” she announced, holding the book up like a prize.

Sirius stepped out of the car, shrugging off his jacket as a sudden wave of heat washed over him. The December chill didn't seem to reach his skin.

He looked up at the library doors, his legs feeling unsteady. Whatever was happening inside, he just hoped that Remus would let him stay by his side, if only for a moment.

The interior of the library was warm and quiet, a stark contrast to the crisp chill outside. Andromeda led Sirius through the winding corridors, the faint scent of old books mingling with the alluring scent of freshly brewed coffee. They stopped in a reading room where a small group had gathered around a woman. She was slim, with sunken cheeks and moved her hands expressively as she spoke. She couldn't have been over her forties.

Sirius didn't need Andromeda to confirm who she was. The smile was unmistakable - it was Remus', etched in an older, softer form.

The moment she saw them at the entrance, her expression brightened and she opened her arms to Andromeda, who wasted no time in coming to greet her.

"For a moment, I thought you might not make it," Hope said warmly, taking Andromeda's hand in hers. "What with your work and all."

"What do you mean? Of course I'd come," Andromeda replied, smiling before pulling her into a hug.

Hope's gaze shifted to Sirius as he approached, her curiosity evident as she smiled at him. Andromeda quickly jumped in. "Oh, this is my cousin, Sirius."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Lupin," Sirius said with a polite smile, feeling slightly out of place. "I'm sorry to turn up uninvited, I..."

"Nonsense," Hope interrupted, waving away his apology before shaking his hand warmly. "This is a book club, everyone's always welcome."

There was something about her presence that immediately put Sirius at ease. Despite her frail appearance, she radiated a quiet strength, the kind that made you feel safe without even realising it.

"Thank you," Sirius said sincerely. "Actually, I came because-"

"Andy, you're here!" a voice interrupted.

Sirius turned to see a red-haired woman approaching with an infectious grin. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around Andromeda in an enthusiastic embrace.

"Lily," Andromeda greeted her warmly, hugging her back before stepping aside. "I wouldn't miss it."

Sirius froze. Lily.

She was slightly shorter than him, her vivid green eyes practically glowing with life and curiosity. Even when her gaze landed on him, there was no hint of suspicion in those eyes, only cheerful interest.

"Oh! This is Sirius, my cousin," Andromeda introduced, gesturing towards him. "He's here looking for-"

"Remus," Lily finished quietly, her smile faltering for a split second as she studied Sirius like she'd just uncovered a hidden piece of a puzzle. "You're looking for Remus, aren't you?"

Sirius blinked, taken by surprise. "Er... yes. But I can come back later, or perhaps you could give him a message? I don't think I've picked the best time..."

"Don't be silly," Lily said brightly, her smile returning. "The meeting doesn't start for half an hour. Remus is upstairs, second floor. He always gravitates towards the windows. I think he'll be pleased to see you."

Sirius' heart stuttered. Had Remus been talking about him?

"Go on, cousin," Andromeda said with a nudge and a knowing grin. "Don't waste time."

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Hope and Lily. Then he nodded. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs Lupin. And you too, Lily."

Hope smiled warmly. "The pleasure was mine, Sirius."

"Good luck," Lily added, her eyes sparkling as if she already knew how this encounter was going to go.

Sure enough, Remus was on the second floor, tucked away in a quiet corner, far from the gentle murmur of the library. A window was cracked open, letting in a light breeze. Remus stood at the windowsill, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, his gaze lost in the view beyond.

Sirius approached slowly, his jacket draped over one arm, and his free hand fiddling absently with the lighter in his pocket.

Remus didn't notice him at first. It wasn't until Sirius was almost beside him that he jumped, startled. His expression changed quickly, surprise fading into cautious recognition.

"Sirius?" Remus asked, frowning slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Sirius offered a small, disarming smile. "Turns out my cousin is in your mother's book club. She mentioned the meeting, so..." He trailed off, hoping the explanation was casual enough.

Remus' eyes flickered with understanding, though his posture remained guarded. He looked away and took a slow drag on his cigarette. The silence between them was tense and heavy.

"You didn't have to come," Remus finally said, his tone neutral.

"I know," Sirius replied honestly. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding. I, er, lost your number and thought I'd never see you again. But..."

Remus didn't answer. He looked as if he might bolt at any moment, and Sirius found himself standing a little awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or go.

“Mind if I smoke with you?” Sirius finally asked, desperate to break the tension.

Remus hesitated, but then shook his head. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, draped his jacket over a nearby chair and reached for a cigarette. Without a word, Remus held out the lighter.

"How was the birthday?" Remus asked, his voice quieter now as Sirius lit his cigarette.

"Oh, wonderful," Sirius replied, taking a deep breath. "Mum only managed to insult me a handful of times, so I suppose that's progress." He chuckled slightly, but the humour faded as quickly as it came. He stopped himself, remembering too late the vulnerability Remus was carrying.

Sirius hesitated, then asked quietly, "Why didn't you tell me about your mother?"

Remus turned his head slightly, his jaw clenching. He shrugged, eyes fixed on a distant point outside. "What difference would it have made?"

"I could've been there for you," Sirius said gently, "helped in some way..."

Remus exhaled sharply, his cigarette burning down to the filter. "I appreciate the thought, Sirius, but I don't need any help."

Sirius frowned, his voice firm but calm. "Everyone needs someone, especially at times like this."

"Well, I don't," Remus replied curtly, flicking his cigarette out of the window. "I was doing just fine in my corner before you showed up."

"I don't believe you," Sirius said quietly.

"That's your problem."

The bluntness stung, but Sirius refused to let it show. He pressed his lips together, struggling to contain his frustration. "I told you about my mum," he said after a moment. "I thought you would..."

"That I'd do the same?" Remus interrupted, his voice rising. He turned, the rawness in his expression taking Sirius by surprise. "You don't even know me. Why should I share anything with you? So you can pity me? Or tell me everything's going to be all right? I've heard it all before and I'm not interested."

Sirius stepped back, startled by the outburst. His chest tightened, the familiar pain of rejection creeping in. But he saw through the anger - it was pain, buried beneath layers of self-protection. 

"I'm sorry," Sirius murmured, stubbing out his cigarette on the window sill. "I didn't mean to overstep. I just thought..." He shook his head. "Never mind. I'll go. It was nice to see you, Remus."

He turned to leave, his heart sinking with every step towards the stairs. But before he could take more than a few steps, a hand caught his wrist and pulled him back.

Suddenly he was pinned against the windowsill and Remus' lips were on his - warm, urgent, tasting faintly of tobacco. Sirius froze for a moment, shock and a surge of emotion running through him. This wasn't how he'd imagined their first kiss, but it was everything he didn't know he wanted.

Still, it didn't feel right - not like this.

With gentle but firm pressure, Sirius placed a hand on Remus' chest and broke the kiss. Remus stepped back, his eyes clouded with confusion and something Sirius couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You said you wanted to be there for me," Remus said, his voice low and unsteady.

"Not like this," Sirius replied quietly. "I like you, Remus, I really do. But we both know this isn't the right time."

Remus swallowed, averting his gaze and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Then perhaps you should leave."

Sirius hesitated, his heart aching for the man standing before him. But he knew he couldn't force Remus to open up - not until he was ready.

"Take care," Sirius said quietly before turning back towards the stairs.

The chill outside the library hit him like a slap, and only then did Sirius realise he'd left his jacket inside. Whether it was pride, anger or just plain sadness, he couldn't bring himself to go back for it.

Wearing nothing but his lace shirt against the cold, he wandered aimlessly until he spotted a telephone box. Ignoring the foul stench of piss that lingered inside, he stepped in for a brief respite from the freezing air. Fishing out his mobile phone, he dialled his brother's number.

"Hello?" Regulus answered on the first ring, his voice clipped.

"Hey, Reg. I need a favour."

There was a moment of silence. "What have you done this time?"

"I left my jacket in the library," Sirius admitted quickly, rocking slightly as he spoke. "My wallet's in it. I can't go back there. And I certainly can't go back to the club."

A heavy sigh came through the receiver. "Why not? Where's Andy?"

"Reg, please," Sirius said, his voice dropping in frustration. "I'll explain when I get there. Just... send someone, yeah?"

"You're impossible," Regulus muttered, though there was no real heat in his tone. "Fine. Where are you now?"

Sirius stayed in the phone box long after he'd sent Regulus his location, until the stench became unbearable and forced him to retreat into the freezing air. The sky above him darkened, clouds heavy with the threat of a storm, and he couldn't help but feel that it reflected his mood all too perfectly. Jacketless and stranded, the absurdity of it all hit him like a biting wind. He let out a humourless laugh and shook his head at his own misfortune.

After what seemed like an eternity, the usual Black family car finally pulled up to the kerb. The passenger side window rolled down to reveal Geoffrey's ever-present sarcastic grin.

"I hear you're in a bit of a jam, young Sirius," the butler said gingerly as he got out to open the door, his movements precise and deliberate.

Sirius waved him off with a scowl. "I can manage, thanks. Do they pay you extra to wind me up, Geoffrey?"

"Only if I do it well enough," Geoffrey replied, smirking as he returned to his seat.

Without delay, Mr Collins put the car in motion and drove back to the club, passing the corner of the library on the way. Sirius glanced up at the windows on the second floor, half hoping to catch a glimpse of Remus' tall, slender silhouette. But the panes only reflected the grey clouds gathering above. With a heavy sigh, Sirius turned away, the realisation sinking in - whatever chance he'd had of reaching Remus was gone, lost in the growing storm.

Chapter Text

Grey, oppressive clouds had been gathering on the horizon all day, and now they were closing in, threatening to engulf the library. It wouldn't be more than an hour before it started to rain. Fitting, really. Quite on brand for his current mood.

"Rem?"

Remus tore his eyes from the window, where he'd been watching Sirius disappear down the street, to find his best friend at the top of the stairs. Lily was holding a book, her expression a mixture of worry and the kind of gentle reassurance only she could offer.

"Is it time?" he asked, stubbing out his cigarette and adding the butt to the two others balanced on the window ledge.

Lily nodded, approaching him with her usual graceful calm. Her fiery red hair shimmered even in the grey light filtering through the windows, and her eyes - always a window to her soul - studied him as if she could see right into his heart. Without a word, she walked over to the chair where Sirius' suit jacket was hanging and picked it up.

"He left his jacket," she said, frowning. "Didn't you notice?"

Remus grimaced. He'd noticed the moment Sirius had walked away, but in his chaotic state of anger, guilt and... something else, he hadn't decided whether to run after him or let it go. All his emotions had surged at once, paralysing him, and he'd ended up doing nothing but watching Sirius disappear from sight.

"He knows where it is. He can come and get it whenever he wants," he replied after a moment, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Maybe there's something in here that'll help us find him," Lily mused, already rummaging through the jacket's pockets.

"Er… I don't think going through his pockets is a good idea," Remus objected, his frown deepening.

"Oh, come on, Rem. I'm not going to nick anything," Lily said with a wrinkled nose. "It's practical, isn't it? We're just trying to give it back."

Remus didn't think it was necessary. The library staff could hold it until Sirius returned. But he didn't say anything, just watched as Lily took a wallet out of the inside pocket of the jacket.

"Sirius Orion Black, eh?" she read from his ID card. "He's even better looking in person than in the picture."

Remus rolled his eyes but didn't bother to argue. Sirius was stunning. Probably the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

"Nothing in here says where he lives. Maybe in this notebook -"

"No!"

Remus crossed the room in three strides, snatching the notebook from her grasp with a desperation that startled them both. Without so much as a glance at it, he shoved it into his trouser pocket.

“The notebook’s off limits,” he said firmly, his tone colder than he intended. "It's private."

Lily's eyes widened. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I thought it might help."

"I know," Remus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lily rarely got on his nerves, but today his emotions were stretched so thin that even the smallest thing threatened to unravel him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just..."

He trailed off, not sure how to explain. How could he tell her he'd fallen in love with someone in the span of a plane ride? Sure, he'd already mentioned Sirius to her - how incredibly magnetic he was, how their conversations had felt like slipping into an alternate universe where everything made sense - but he hadn't confessed how deeply Sirius had affected him. Seeing Sirius in the library, kissing him, had only intensified those feelings. It wasn't just attraction, it was something much bigger, something much scarier. And he was still so angry. Angry at Sirius, at his mum, at the world.

If only he'd admitted that he'd known exactly who Sirius was from the moment they'd met. If only their interaction had remained what it was meant to be - a fleeting exchange between an artist and an ordinary man - things might not have become so complicated.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lily asked carefully.

Remus shook his head, turning his gaze to the window. The storm was almost here.

“Will you be alright?” she asked then, and Remus managed a faint smile.

"I s'pose I will," Remus murmured, shrugging slightly as his eyes drifted to Sirius' jacket.

His friend nodded, asking for no further explanation.

“What book did you choose?” she asked instead, holding up hers to show the cover. Remus recognised the worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird that Lily had read and reread countless times since they were children. At first glance, it didn’t seem like the most fitting choice, but Remus understood why she’d picked it. It was the same reason he had picked it too.

Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, Remus pulled out his own copy, slightly more battered than hers. He smiled when he saw Lily’s look of surprise.

“It couldn’t be anything else, could it?” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. Remus felt a pang in his chest.

“Don’t start crying yet,” he pleaded. “You know I’ll start if you do.”

Lily let out a laugh that was more of a sob before stepping closer and letting him pull her into his arms. Resting his chin on the top of her head, Remus breathed in the comforting vanilla scent of her hair, an odd solace amidst the chaos of the day. The truth was, he didn’t really feel like crying. In some strange way, he felt... empty. Emotionally numb. There were too many feelings vying for control, too much to process, and it had left him blank.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked after a while, as her soft sobs died away. As co-founder of the book club, she'd had to take an active part in the meeting, unlike him, who could just sit in a corner and wait for it to end. Lily just cried a little more.

Sometimes he envied her ability to feel everything so completely. Whether joy or sorrow, Lily let it all flow through her, unfiltered and raw. She didn’t care if she cried loudly or laughed uncontrollably—the world around her never stopped her from being unapologetically herself. She was so full of life that Remus always gravitated towards her when he needed to borrow some of that vitality. Like now, when simply holding her was enough to piece together some semblance of himself.

“I will be,” she answered eventually, pulling back to wipe her tears with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Good thing I didn’t wear any makeup today. I knew it’d be a disaster.”

Remus chuckled softly, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Shall we head down, then?”

Lily took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before nodding. “Let’s go.”

A considerable number of people had shown up for the meeting. Although only the members of the book club had been invited, it seemed many of the less active members—even those who had only participated a handful of times—had decided to come as well. Remus barely recognised half of them. Since leaving for his exchange in New York, the club had gained and lost many faces. Among them was Sirius’ cousin.

She was easy enough to spot, even if he'd never seen her before. The Black family genes, it seemed, were unmistakable. She bore the same aristocratic cheekbones and flawless complexion as Sirius. Yet where Sirius exuded cool, icy tones, his cousin was all warmth and fire. Her dark brown hair tumbled in soft waves, and though the distance made it difficult to be sure, her eyes appeared to share the same rich, chocolate hue.

Avoiding eye contact entirely, Remus looked away before she could catch him staring and began to make his rounds, greeting the faces he did recognise. A handful of former schoolmates, some neighbours, and, of course, the long-standing members of the club who had watched him grow up.

After making his way through the familiar faces and exhausting the requisite small talk, Remus retreated to a far wall of the reading room to observe. His mother, always lively, continued chatting animatedly with anyone who approached her. Several guests tried to show her their books, but she would cover her eyes immediately, accusing them of spoiling her before the meeting had even begun, and promising they could discuss everything soon enough.

Hope Lupin was a strong woman, a trait she seemed to possess from the very beginning. Her birth had been nothing short of a miracle - a complicated pregnancy during which the village doctor had grimly asked her father to choose between saving his wife or his unborn child. He had chosen his wife. Yet against all odds, Hope had defied fate and ensured that neither she nor her mother would be lost.

Not even the shadow of death could dampen her spirit. Remus had seen her at her lowest points, yet she would always rise, pick up a book and end the day immersed in its pages. Remus had probably inherited his escapist tendencies from her.

"Quite a crowd, isn't it?" a voice said beside him.

Remus turned quickly, a smile breaking across his face as he spotted one of his closest friends leaning against the wall next to him. Mary Macdonald was a wanderer. You never saw her in the same place twice, yet somehow she was everywhere.

“Where did you come from?” Remus asked in surprise before pulling her into a hug. Mary squeezed him tightly, as she always did, and for a moment Remus' face was buried in the soft, curly mass of her hair.

"I just got here. I didn't think I was going to make it for a moment," she confessed, smiling sheepishly.

"Did you bring a book?" Remus asked. "You'll need one; everyone has to-"

"Oh, yes, Lily reminded me before I left my house," Mary said, rummaging through her bag. Moments later she pulled out a copy of A Room with a View and waved it in the air. "There's a line in here that reminds me so much of her."

Remus nodded. So far, after greeting several people, he hadn't seen anyone who had chosen their book at random. Everyone had been thoughtful, and while there had been some odd choices, it was clear that each had been chosen with care. His mother's last wish had clearly resonated.

Hope suddenly rose to her feet, and a ripple of shushing spread through the room as the guests settled down. Remus felt his heart pounding against his ribs and straightened up, watching as Lyall, his father, and Lily each took one of his mother's arms to steady her.

"Thank you all so much for coming," Hope began, her smile beaming. "Normally we form a circle for these meetings, but there are so many of you today that I invite you to just make yourselves comfortable wherever you like."

The guests had already done so. Chairs were scattered around the room, as were sofas and floor cushions. Some people, like Mary and Remus, had chosen to stay close to the walls. Still, everyone looked comfortable and eager. Once the last person had settled down, Lyall helped Hope into her chair and Lily - as she'd been doing in this very room since she was eleven - opened the meeting with a few words of welcome.

"Welcome to the 125th meeting of our book club," Lily greeted, her bright smile beating the traces of recent tears still visible in the corners of her eyes. "As always, we're here to talk about our favourite subject: books. But today is a special occasion. We're all here today to dedicate this meeting as a living memorial to Hope Lupin."

Several people nodded, and Remus noticed that many had tears in their eyes, but everyone was smiling. No one around him had broken down; they all knew exactly why they were there. And they were at peace with it. Remus wished he could feel the same way.

"As the co-founder of this club that has been with me since childhood, I want to thank you all for being here," Lily continued, her voice wavering slightly. Without missing a beat, she cleared her throat and continued, "and for making our beloved Hope's dream come true. As mentioned in the invitation, along with your valuable presence, Hope has asked each of you to bring a book that is dear to you. Any genre, any author - it doesn't matter. Hope wants to hear you read from it and share your thoughts with her one last time.

At that moment, many in the room raised their books as if to show that they'd followed the instructions. Hope immediately covered her eyes, playfully shielding herself from seeing the selections in advance. Mary giggled next to Remus, and he found himself smiling too.

"With that," Lily said, "I present to you the star of today's gathering - the woman who has watched me grow and nurtured my heart as if I were her own daughter. Hope."

Applause and cheers erupted as Hope shuffled forward in her chair, inching closer to the edge. Despite the library's usual rule of silence, no one came to shush them. For several seconds, the room brimmed with joy and celebration, and Remus thought it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever witnessed. Sound in a library, celebration in a sanctuary of silence. Hope embodied it all - a force that defied norms and yet felt inherently right.

"Despite all these years of reading," Hope began, her ever-present smile lighting up her face, "I am at a loss for words to express how grateful I am to see you all here today. I remember our very first meeting in this room, eleven years ago. Lily and I had baked cookies to give to anyone brave enough to join us. They were such a hit that we've been bringing them ever since. I never thought I'd still be here eleven years later, and I'm so proud to be part of this club. Because, yes, I may have co-founded it, but none of this would be possible without Lily and, of course, all of you."

Lily discreetly wiped away a tear, clearly determined not to let herself cry just yet. But how could she not, with eleven years of memories flooding back into this reading room?

"The idea for today's meeting came to me while Lyall and I were planning my funeral," Hope said with a wry smile. "I thought about asking you to read your favourite quotes to me after I'm gone. But then, as I reflected on it, I realised I wouldn’t want to miss something so wonderful. You all know how curious I am, so here we are."

A few people laughed, and even Remus smiled. It was true - his mother was curious, if not nosy. She and Lily often argued about books as if they were the juiciest gossip in the neighbourhood. That curiosity kept her connected to others; she always wanted to know, to be there, to make people feel seen.

"As many of you know," Hope continued, "for me, a good ending is what makes a great book. It doesn't matter how brilliant the beginning or the middle, it's the last page that seals it all. Some of you may agree with me, some of you may not, but I didn't want to leave this world without knowing what kind of ending I would have. I wanted to be here, to see and hear you one last time, to close this chapter of my life on my own terms. Because yes, this disease will take my life, but it won't take the chance to end it my way."

A tear slipped down Remus' cheek and he quickly wiped it away. All the emotions he had been avoiding surged at once, making the room feel unbearably small. He had to leave; he couldn't listen any more. He couldn't face this reality.

A warm hand covered his and when he turned, Mary was looking at him. Her eyes, slightly red with tears, met his with a gentle smile. She nodded, silently conveying the only message he needed at that moment: You can do this.

Remus nodded back, suddenly anchored by her touch, and turned back to face his mother.

"I'm content with the life I've lived," Hope said, her voice faltering for the first time since she'd started talking. "And even more with having been a part of yours, if only for a while. There's just one more thing I want to say," she paused, her voice breaking slightly, "don't forget to pick up your cookies before you leave. We made them with extra love this time."

For a moment the club fell silent. Everyone, it seemed, had already lost the battle against their emotions and was struggling to hold back tears. Then, before anyone could react, Mary began to clap again. The others joined in, the applause less celebratory and more heartfelt.

As the applause died down and Hope finished thanking them from her seat, Lily stood up.

"All right, any volunteers to go first?"

And so began a long afternoon of reading. Neither Remus nor Mary dared to speak early on, but even long after Mary had stepped forward to dedicate passages from her books to Hope, Remus remained glued to the wall, his legs refusing to move.

Desperate for distraction, he pulled Sirius' notebook out of his pocket. He hadn't opened it and had no intention of doing so, but there was something about holding it that grounded him - much like Lily's hugs or Mary's steadying hand. Holding the notebook felt like holding a piece of Sirius himself: his art, his creativity, his thoughts. Surely Sirius was on his way to that fancy club now, missing his notebook and dealing with his family.

He'd give it back, Remus decided. It would be inconsiderate not to, even if he had behaved like a fool and Sirius hadn't fully understood the situation he was in. But no matter what, Sirius had been right. Now wasn't the time for them to think about them - not when each of their lives was clouded by so many problems. He'd give the notebook back and apologise. But first he had to face his fear.

"Who's left?" Lily asked, just as Hope finished thanking one of the club's oldest members for a beautiful poem.

Remus took a deep breath and stepped away from the wall.

"Me," he said, his voice loud enough to attract everyone's attention.

Hope gave him one of her warmest smiles and nodded encouragingly. Remus smiled back, though it took all his willpower to keep it from faltering.

He moved to the centre of the room and sank onto a cushion in front of his mother. Most people had chosen to read from their seats, but Remus felt he needed to be close—face-to-face. From this angle, it almost felt like his childhood again, sitting on the carpet with Lily as they listened to his mother read for hours from her spot on the sofa. For a moment, Remus allowed that memory of safe, quiet comfort to wash over him, clinging to the version of himself that had been curious and hopeful.

"One of my earliest memories is of you reading to me before bed," he began. "Sometimes, without a book in hand, you'd make up stories on the spot, taking me on adventures you created. I lived a thousand lives with you, Mum."

Hope nodded, emotion written all over her face. Lyall, sitting beside her, always the reserved and quiet man, held his wife's hand tightly as he listened. Remus knew him well. Since the cancer first appeared, Lyall had taken on an unwavering role, being the family's rock during their hardest times. He'd drifted away from Remus in the process, but his bond with Hope had only deepened. Lyall's steady hand still clasped hers, and Remus was certain it would remain there until her last breath.

"If I had to pick a favourite book, I couldn't," Remus admitted. "So I went with the first book we read in the club. I remember sitting like this, facing you, with a copy in my hands and your voice narrating in the warm light of our living room. I remember Lily next to me, waiting for her turn to read. And I remember being happy."

He paused, his heart tightening painfully. Be brave, he told himself. Be brave like you used to be.

"Here's a line from To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: ‘Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.’"

Remus fell silent again, unable to say anything more. He looked down at his copy of the book, its pages worn and its margins scribbled with pencil - evidence of countless readings over the years. In the margin, next to the line he'd just read, were the words written in a child's hand: Reminds me of Mum.

Suddenly someone sat down on the floor beside him. Looking up, he saw Lily with her own copy of the book in her lap. She nodded once, and Remus nodded back before turning his attention back to his mother.

"You're the bravest person I know," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "And to this day, I regret being one of the reasons you had to be."

Lyall shifted slightly, visibly shaken. Only a handful of people understood what Remus meant, but he didn't elaborate.

"I live my days, and I'll continue to live them, using you as an example. Because even when I was eleven, I saw you as a warrior, someone who could do anything. Now I know that's not true - that you can feel fear and uncertainty too. But you still face it all with a smile. I want to be like you, Mum. Or at least, I’ll try.”

Hope dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief, but her smile never wavered. Pride shone in her eyes as she nodded and held out her arms.

Remus was on his feet in an instant and several people murmured affectionately as they hugged each other tightly.

"Thank you, Remus," she whispered into his ear. "My brave little boy."

Remus didn't reply, unable to form words without bursting into tears. Instead, he sat back down beside Lily, who refused to let him retreat to his spot against the wall.

"I think it's my turn," she announced, "especially since I chose the same book as Remus."

"Oh, did you?" Hope asked, her curiosity piqued.

"It turns out we're more connected than I thought," Lily said with a small smile.

Remus smiled back at her. It was true. Lily had been like a sister to him ever since he'd moved to London. He'd been a shy boy, deeply affected by his mother's illness, and Lily had been his first friend at school. She'd stood by him through his darkest moments and spent enough time at his house to share many of his memories. Their bond was undeniable, even if Lily tried to play it off as a joke.

"The quote I chose is one that has stayed with me all my life," Lily continued, addressing Hope directly. "From the first time I heard you read it in your living room, it's guided how I try to navigate the world. It goes: ‘Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.’ ”

Remus nodded. He'd heard Lily recite this passage many times over the years. He'd even seen it scribbled in her notebooks or framed on her bedroom wall. It was, in a way, her mantra.

"We live in a cruel world," Lily went on, her voice calm but full of emotion. "Bad things happen to the best of people, and no one is spared from hardship. But even so, we always have the choice to protect what's good. We can choose to be kind, to do good for others, and to face life's challenges with empathy and optimism. And you, Hope, are the best example of that.

She closed the book and placed one hand over her heart as Remus reached for her other hand and held it tightly.

"No matter what life threw at you, you always chose to stay on the side of joy, gratitude and hope. You were always there for anyone who faced prejudice or injustice. Hearing you read was like hearing the song of a mockingbird in my heart - and nothing will ever take that away."

At this point, even Remus couldn't keep a few tears from escaping. Hope had, in many ways, been a mockingbird in all their lives. Lily had said what everyone else was probably thinking. Knowing that it was a sin to harm a mockingbird, as the book described, added a weight to everything that was hard to ignore. But they also knew that not even death could erase what Hope had given them. Her lessons, her kindness, her unyielding spirit would be forever etched in their hearts.

The meeting ended shortly afterwards. Remus couldn't process anything else after Lily finished speaking. By the time the last members of the club had left the room, he had no memory of how he'd found his way back to his spot against the wall. His chest felt raw, his heart exposed and vulnerable to everything around him. He watched quietly as Mary approached Lily, content with the solitude until a voice jolted him out of his trance.

"Remus?"

He looked up to see Sirius' cousin standing before him. She held her book in one hand, the other held out to him, a warm smile on her lips.

"I'm Andromeda," she introduced herself. Remus shook her hand hastily. "I'm Sirius' cousin."

"Yes, he's mentioned you," he replied with a slight smile. "Thank you for coming - and for bringing him."

Andromeda nodded, her smile unwavering. Remus noticed her eyes were slightly puffy, and confirmed that they matched her hair perfectly.

"I didn't realise Sirius had left until Lily told me," she said, her tone tinged with concern. "I don't mean to pry, but... did he say where he was going? I was going to take him with me, but he seems to have slipped away."

Remus shook his head. "No... he didn't."

Andromeda deflated slightly. "Well, it's Reg's birthday dinner soon. I suppose he'll turn up at the club later," she murmured, more to herself than to him. Then, looking back at Remus, she added, "It was nice to meet you, and your words were beautiful."

"So were yours," Remus replied, though he hadn't really heard her speak, too lost in his thoughts at the time.

Andromeda smiled again, in a way that reminded him of Sirius, before leaving the room. Remus watched her go, tempted for a fleeting moment to chase after her, to ask her to take him with her, to help him find a way to apologise to Sirius. But she disappeared down the corridor, leaving his legs frozen.

"Has Andy left already?" Lily asked as she approached Remus. "I thought we could have given her Sirius' jacket to return."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "Completely slipped my mind."

"Rem! Lils! Over here!" Mary called. Remus glanced over to see his parents and Mary lounging on a sofa in the corner, nibbling on leftover cookies.

Lily took his hand and pulled him towards the group. They found seats nearby as Mary scooted over to make room.

"Did everything go as you expected, Hope?" Lily asked, reaching for a cookie.

"Oh, much better than I could've imagined," Hope said, resting her head on Lyall's shoulder with a contented sigh. "I even got Lyall to read our poem."

Lyall grumbled and looked away, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Remus' father's vast library was heavily weighted towards legal texts and history, not poetry. Hearing him recite a love poem had come as a shock to everyone - especially since no one had even known that the Lupins had a poem to call their own.

"Ah, love is in the air," Lily teased, giving Remus a playful look. Hope picked it up immediately.

"Oh? Is there something you'd like to share with us, Remus?" she asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No," Remus said flatly, glaring at Lily for dropping him in. His mother was insatiably curious - second only to Mary.

"That's definitely a yes," Mary declared, waving her cookie at him like a hammer. "Now you've got to spill the beans. Are they American? Older? Younger?"

"None of your business," Remus muttered, scowling. Predictably, this only encouraged her.

"HA! You didn't deny there was someone!" Mary crowed triumphantly, causing Lily and Hope to burst out laughing.

"It's about time you introduced someone," Lyall added with annoying calm.

"I'm not introducing anyone, OK?"

"Come on, Rem, give this dying woman what she wants," Hope said, clasping her hands dramatically and putting on a pitiful expression.

"That’s emotional blackmail," Remus grumbled. But when she started to laugh, joined by Lily and Mary, he sighed. "Fine. I met him on the plane, all right? That's all there is to it."

"Him?" Lyall asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yes, Dad, I'm bisexual - remember?" Remus snapped, irritation creeping into his tone. Lyall shrugged, unfazed.

"I just thought you'd be more popular with the girls," he said, as oblivious as ever.

"Remus is popular with everyone," Mary cut in. "Tall, handsome, intellectual-"

"Enough, Mary," Remus interrupted, thoroughly mortified.

"You should go and find him," Lily said after a pause, her voice soft. "You have his jacket. You know where he'll be. And most importantly - you like him."

"Yes, Remus," Mary added. "Lily says he's handsome and rich. Are you really going to let that go?"

"I'll decide for myself, thanks," Remus replied, bristling.

"Boo, I thought you'd decided to be brave," Mary goaded.

Remus clenched his jaw. Of course he was afraid to go after Sirius. None of them understood the full context. They'd feel the same way if they were in his position.

"If he means something to you," Hope said gently, "and you have a chance to see him again - think carefully if you're going to regret letting that chance slip away."

Remus couldn't stay angry with his mother, especially when she was right. He was already regretting not going after Sirius.

"Remus, Remus, Remus!" Mary began to chant, and Lily and Hope quickly joined in. Groaning, Remus stood up.

"I'm going out for a cigarette," he muttered, hoping to stop the chanting and give himself some time to think.

Once outside, he took a deep breath of the crisp night air. He hadn't even brought his cigarettes with him. His hand tightened on his jacket in frustration as he stared down the quiet street, Sirius' face flashing in his mind. Gorgeous. Brave. Hurt.

Oh, for God's sake, he thought.

Turning on his heel, he made his decision. He wasn't going to stand around in the cold debating with himself. Before he could change his mind, he stepped back inside and grabbed Sirius' jacket from where Lily had left it.

The storm had already broken by the time he left the library, and had only worsened by the time he reached his destination. Without an umbrella to protect him from the rain, Remus arrived at the doors of the club soaked to the bone.

The Hurlingham Club was everything he'd imagined and more. Of course, he'd never set foot in the place, or even tried to find out what it looked like, so his awe was genuine as he approached the main entrance, having persuaded the guards to give him just five minutes to return Sirius' jacket.

A group of young people stood by the entrance, champagne flutes or cigarettes in hand, talking animatedly. Seeing them, Remus became instantly aware of his own appearance; dressed in faded jeans and a brown corduroy jacket, he looked completely out of place, as if he'd wandered into another world.

The first person to notice him was a tall, blond boy in a light grey suit that fit his long legs perfectly. He cocked his head curiously when he saw Remus, and leaned into the group to say something Remus couldn't hear. Moments later, three more pairs of eyes turned to him as he approached. The group consisted of three boys and one girl, the latter almost identical to the blonde who had first spotted him. Her long, shiny hair framed a face that appeared to be the friendliest of the group.

"Good evening," Remus greeted, stopping at a polite distance and addressing her, since she seemed the least intimidating. "I'm looking for Sirius Black."

"That would be my brother," the boy next to her replied. Just a glance was enough to confirm the truth of his words.

Just as Sirius had described, Regulus was slightly shorter than his brother, his hair also cut a few centimetres shorter, but the resemblance between them was striking. Both had black, wavy hair, though Sirius wore his loose and untamed, while Regulus' was meticulously groomed, the deliberate waves framing his face with precision. Their silver-grey eyes were identical in colour, but Regulus' lacked the warmth that lit Sirius' gaze. Those cool eyes studied him openly, making Remus squirm under their piercing gaze.

"I'm Remus Lupin," he said, pushing wet hair out of his face.

"Oh, so you're Remus," Regulus replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Er, yeah. Look, Sirius left his jacket in the library," Remus explained, holding it up. "I thought he'd want it back, as his wallet is in it."

"Did you go through his pockets?" another boy with dark brown hair and a slightly amused expression asked. "Pandora, I think he might be one of yours."

"Shut up, Barty," snapped the girl - Pandora? - before turning to Remus with a more reassuring look. "You were just looking for his wallet to return it, weren't you, Remus?"

"Yes, of course!" he replied quickly.

"See?" Pandora said, smiling triumphantly.

"Why did you come all the way here?" Regulus asked, still holding his drink as he studied Remus with a measured gaze. "It's just a jacket. I doubt he's in the mood to see you after the way you treated him."

Remus winced. So Sirius had told him. Not that he could blame him - it wasn't like he didn't deserve it.

"I know I messed up," Remus admitted after a moment, his voice calm but contrite. "That's why I'm here. I just need five minutes to return this and apologise. After that, I'll leave - I promise."

Regulus didn't respond immediately, his expression unreadable. "I'm not letting you in like this - you're soaked."

"You sound like you're the one who has to mop the floor," the blond boy interjected with a grin. "Come on, Reg, don't be so hard on him. He looks genuinely sorry."

"Thanks, Evan," Regulus replied, rolling his eyes before striding towards the door. He paused, glancing back at Remus. "Are you coming or not?"

Remus didn't wait for a second invitation. Practically sprinting, he followed Regulus inside.

Regulus led him into the building, navigating it as if it were his home. After climbing to the second floor and weaving through a long corridor, Regulus stopped in front of a door.

"My brother is sensitive, you know," he said. "Even if he doesn't act it."

"I know," Remus replied. "I've noticed."

"I don't think you have," Regulus countered. "It took a lot to get him to come and see me, and I don't want you to ruin it for him. So you’d better sort out whatever mess you’ve made.”

Remus swallowed and nodded. "I will. I promise."

Regulus opened the door, his expression stern. “Sirius, you’ve got a visitor.”

The room turned out to be a music lounge, with a grand piano in the centre and various other instruments scattered about. A large fireplace blazed against one wall, surrounded by a group of sofas. Sirius sat on the carpet in front of the fire.

When he turned and their eyes met, Remus felt a magnetic pull so strong, so immediate, that he couldn't resist it. Without a word, he walked towards him.

Sirius seemed startled to see him - his mouth hanging open slightly until Remus sat down beside him.

"Hi," Remus offered a tentative, apologetic smile.

"Hey," Sirius replied, breaking eye contact for the first time to look over at him. "You're soaked."

"I didn't give it much thought before I came," Remus admitted with a shrug. "It's just water."

Sirius studied him for a moment longer, long enough for Remus to notice the faint blue undertones that mixed with the grey of his eyes. Sirius looked away before he could fully absorb them.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said. “I was a right idiot.”

"What?" Remus frowned in surprise.

"Your mum's not well, and I thought it would be a good idea to barge into her memorial and ask for your number," Sirius said, looking genuinely remorseful. "I'm really sorry, Remus."

Remus hesitated, caught off guard by the apology. He hadn't seen Sirius' showing up as something negative. In fact, he'd been glad to see him again, but it had been at a time when he couldn't focus on anything but shutting down his emotions. Seeing him in the library had thrown him into such chaos that he hadn't known how to react.

"You weren't an idiot," he said after a pause. "You just happened to come along at a... sensitive time. I never talk about her, you know. If I didn't tell you, it wasn't because I didn't trust you, it was because I didn't know how to. Sometimes I get angry with her because she decided to stop treatment. It really frustrates me to see her give up. She never gives up."

Sirius nodded but stayed silent, giving Remus the space to continue.

"Just before you turned up, I'd spoken to her, practically begged her to try again - for me, for Lily, or for Dad, but..."

Remus trailed off, lowering his eyes.

"I don't think stopping the treatment is giving up," Sirius said after a moment. "I think it's incredibly brave."

Remus felt the tears well up, his face twisting for a brief moment before he managed to hold them back. No. That wasn't why he was here.

He reached for the soaked jacket on his lap. "I came to give this back - and to apologise," he said, holding it out.

"Oh, bloody hell," Sirius muttered, his face filled with worry as he frantically inspected the jacket. He tossed the wallet aside and continued his search, his expression turning pale. "My-"

"It's here," Remus interrupted, reaching into the inner pocket of his own jacket and pulling out Sirius' notebook. He handed it to him with a small smile. "Would've been ruined if I'd left it where it was."

Sirius' eyes widened as he took the notebook. “Did you…”

"Read it? No," Remus said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got a lot of respect for people’s privacy.”

Sirius exhaled sharply in relief and set the notebook down beside him. "Good."

"Oi, why are you so relieved?" Remus teased. "Did you write anything about me?"

"What? No! Why would I-? That's ridiculous!" Sirius stammered, his cheeks turning slightly red.

Remus let out a laugh, but didn't continue to tease him. It felt strange to be here, with him. Just a day ago, he would have expected to be curled up in the corner of his bedroom, stewing over a grief that hadn't even begun. But now, sitting here with Sirius, joking around as if everything was normal, it felt both out of place and somehow perfect.

"So how was the meeting? Andy didn't want to give me too many details," Sirius said. Then he paused, his eyes wide with concern. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Remus waved him off. "It was fine. I missed almost half of it, though, because I kept having anxiety attacks. It was... difficult."

"I'm really sorry," Sirius said, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his head on his knees. He looked up at Remus with a sincere look.

Remus nodded, smiling at him. “How was your dinner?"

"Oh, the same as always," Sirius replied, wrinkling his nose. "No fights, though, the organisers kept the troublemakers apart. And Regulus is happy, which is the most important thing."

"I'm glad it went well in the end," Remus said.

Sirius hummed and turned his eyes to the fire. Remus did the same, and soon they both fell into a comfortable silence. The fire crackled softly in front of them and the distant hum of the party was just quiet enough to be ignored. Remus realised that for the first time all day, he felt calm. At peace.

He glanced to the side, where Sirius still had his head on his knees, his eyes now closed. He looked at ease too, and Remus took the opportunity to study him once more. A few freckles dotted his face, and there were a few moles near his jawline.

"I like you too," Remus said to his own shock. Sirius' eyes opened wide as he sat up.

"You do?"

Remus' heart leapt into his throat. Why the hell had he said that out of the blue?

Realising he had no choice but to admit it, he just nodded.

"I would've told you in the library, but then again, I fucked everything up," Remus grimaced, drawing a smile from Sirius.

"That's all right, I'm sure I can turn that into a song."

Remus chuckled, glancing quickly at Sirius' notebook, still lying on the floor between them. "So you do write about me?"

Before Sirius could answer or even react, Remus grabbed the notebook and jumped to his feet, pretending to leaf through it.

"Oi! Give that back, you thief!" Sirius shot up, panic written all over his face as he lunged at him.

Remus darted behind the piano, using it as a shield between them, as he kept leafing through the notebook. Perhaps by sheer luck - or because Sirius had opened it so many times - a page of scribbles and a few lines of verse appeared before him.

"He is the thunder rolling softly in the skies, caramel fire burns in his eyes... Wait. Sirius, this is really good."

Sirius let out a war cry, climbed onto the piano and literally threw himself at Remus. Completely taken by surprise, Remus lost his balance and they both fell to the floor.

They landed in a heap, Sirius reaching desperately for the notebook as Remus laughed uncontrollably. Then Sirius paused, his face inches from Remus'. The laughter faded and the air between them shifted. For a moment, neither moved.

And then Sirius kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as Remus cupped Sirius' face and pulled him closer. Unlike the kiss earlier that day - dulled by the emotional collapse he'd experienced - this was an explosion of sensation. Sirius was soft, warm and tasted slightly of tobacco. It was everything he'd imagined and more.

When Sirius finally pulled away, he grinned mischievously and held up the notebook. "Got it back," he said triumphantly, tucking it safely into his jacket. Still smiling, he got to his feet and extended his hand to Remus.

Remus stared at him, momentarily stunned. He’d definitely fallen for a dirty trick, yet he felt no remorse or embarrassment. Sitting there on the floor, gazing up at Sirius’ flawless face, he thought of how much his mother valued a good ending and realised he’d never expected this story to end like this.

Wrong, he decided, taking Sirius’ outstretched hand and letting it pull him to his feet. Despite the whirlwind of chaos that had defined his day, as he met Sirius’ amused, challenging eyes, a certainty settled over him: their story wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

Chapter Text

On the morning of Boxing Day, Sirius woke up with the worst flu he'd ever had. Standing around in the freezing London air in nothing but a lace shirt, coupled with his naturally weak immune system, had left him battling a high fever throughout Christmas Eve dinner. Walburga, combining her stern indignation with her medical expertise, had forbidden him to leave his room. Sirius hadn't seen Remus since that night at the club.

His room looked exactly as he'd left it four years ago, frozen in time. A few photos of him with his friends were still on the wall next to his bed, along with some posters of Bowie, Queen and Led Zeppelin. Someone had been dusting the furniture, but otherwise everything looked the same, as if waiting for him to come back and resume his old life.

Ha! Not bloody likely.

Ignoring Walburga's orders to stay in bed, Sirius made his way to his wardrobe to find something to wear before heading down to the dining room. The corridors of the house were narrow and long, and every step brought back a wave of memories he didn't want to remember. Everything around him - corners, smells, sounds - reminded him of a childhood so foreign to his true nature that Sirius almost believed the boy who'd lived there had been a different person altogether.

Regulus sat at the dining table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. As soon as Sirius appeared, his eyes swept over his choice of outfit without the slightest attempt at subtlety. Unlike everything else in Grimmauld Place, elegant and refined, Sirius had managed to find a pair of black jeans and a dark denim jacket, paired with a red t-shirt and trainers.

"Mum will have a stroke when she sees you like this," Regulus remarked. "Well, she'd have one anyway. She said you shouldn't get out of bed."

"I don't feel that bad," Sirius lied, though his tight voice betrayed him. Regulus rolled his eyes.

Ignoring him completely, Sirius dropped into a chair opposite and piled his plate with fry-up. Immediately after, a maid appeared and filled his mug with coffee.

At least the food’s still decent , he thought, tucking into a sausage.

“Where’s the old hag?” he asked, before considering his choice of words.

“ Mum ’s working,” Regulus replied, his brow furrowing.

“But it’s Boxing Day.”

Regulus shrugged.

“And Dad?” Sirius asked, his mouth full of fried egg.

"Ugh, have you forgotten your manners? That's revolting," Regulus said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. After a long pause, seemingly determined to convey his disgust, Regulus sighed. "He's in his study. As usual."

Sirius' phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out to check it. James had sent a video to the band's group chat. Intrigued, Sirius opened it.

“Merry Christmas!” James, Peter, and Marlene shouted from what looked like Marlene’s flat. All three wore Christmas jumpers and various festive accessories. James, with a headband sporting antlers, leaned close to the camera to blow a loud kiss.

“You’re the worst for not being here,” James said, “but we forgive you, yeah? Have a great time, eat loads, and keep snogging that Remus bloke as much as you can. Just not so much you can’t come back, all right? Oh, and tell Regulus Merry Christmas from us. We really hope he's managed to get that stick out of his a-”

Sirius shut the video before James could finish, stifling a laugh as Regulus turned bright red, his mouth agape.

“What the bloody hell was that?” his younger brother demanded, but Sirius burst into wheezy laughter, only to end up coughing like a sick dog.

“It’s just a joke, Reggie,” Sirius managed between coughs. “You know what James’s like.”

“Unfortunately,” Regulus muttered, still flushed, taking another sip of tea.

Sirius observed his brother, perfectly dressed and groomed, and a memory of their childhood breakfasts surfaced unbidden. Walburga had never allowed them to sit at the table in their pyjamas, and conversations or distractions like phones were strictly forbidden. The table is for eating , she would remind them every time she caught them attempting to communicate.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said, perhaps a little too abruptly for his brother, who glanced up with a puzzled expression. "For what I said at the club..."

Regulus set his cup down on its saucer. After a few long seconds of weighted silence, he lowered his gaze.

"I do want to be a doctor, you know," he murmured. "Not just to please her, but because it’s something I genuinely enjoy."

"Okay," Sirius nodded earnestly. "I won’t question your choices again, I just... I’m sorry. For making you feel like you didn’t matter. You do. When I left, all I could think about was finding a better place for the both of us.”

"But I didn’t want to go."

Sirius nodded slowly.

"I’m fine, Sirius," Regulus continued. "I could leave any day if I wanted to. But I like being here. No one bothers me, I’m not a child anymore. I know Mum hurt you—she hurt all of us—and I don’t excuse her. But this is my home too, and I think I have the right to hold onto it a little longer."

Sirius didn’t agree. There was something about the way Regulus spoke that made him doubt his brother’s sincerity, even when he sounded completely convinced of his own words. Regulus was still searching for a sense of family here.

Sirius kept his thoughts to himself and simply nodded.

"You can call me whenever you need to, all right? I can come and see you, or you can come to me. Always."

Regulus nodded but said nothing more. Sirius finished his breakfast in silence, the air between them settling into an almost comfortable quiet. Around them, the servants bustled about, clearing plates and refilling cups. Eventually, Regulus’s face returned to its usual neutral expression.

"A parcel arrived this morning," he announced. "For you."

Sirius froze. "For me? From who?"

Regulus shrugged. Sirius quickly wiped his mouth on a napkin and hurried up the stairs into the hall.

On a polished mahogany table, next to a crystal vase, sat the package. It was rectangular and wrapped in Christmas paper, with a ribbon at the top. There was no note, just a small tag with his name on it.

Sirius picked it up and tore off the paper right there, curiosity overwhelming any inclination for privacy. What he found inside made him catch his breath in surprise.

It was a copy of Babel by R. F. Kuang. No. It was not just any copy - it was the most battered, well-used copy Sirius had ever seen. And he'd seen it before.

Marvelling at the delicate chaos on the book, Sirius walked over to the stairs and sat down on the bottom step, the book balanced on his knees. A broad grin spread across his face as he opened the book at random, finding highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins. It was beautifully chaotic, more so than he could have imagined.

The voices of his brother and the servants in the dining room faded as he flicked through the annotations, each scribbled word taking him further away from that house and its claustrophobic walls to another place entirely. Turning to the title page, he found a small note written directly on the page:

I read two verses from your notebook without permission, so here’s my apology: my annotations. Merry Christmas, Sirius. Don’t forget that words can do magic, even in the darkest of moments. Keep making magic with yours.

R. J. L.

Sirius smiled, the warmth in his chest rivaling the fever that hadn’t quite left him. For the first time in days, he felt lighter, like the weight of Grimmauld Place couldn’t quite reach him.

"That's barbaric," came Regulus' voice from the top of the stairs that led down to the dining room. He had wandered over at some point, probably out of curiosity.

Sirius looked at his brother, then back at the book, but he didn't see anything barbaric. Not anymore. What he was holding was a piece of Remus - a part of him frozen in time, imprinted on the pages of a story Sirius had yet to discover.

"Nah," Sirius said with a smile, remembering a similar conversation he'd had on the plane. "It's practical."