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Remus stared up at the building with a sigh. His hand was clutched round the handle of the case in a white-knuckled grip, and he took a calming breath. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to do this at all after well…everything. His mum dying and his dad having a stroke and his gap year turning into three gap years to take care of everything.
Now he was alone in the world, twenty-two which was too damned old he thought, to be starting University. He was going to be flatting with University students who were three years ahead of him. It was by special favour from Frank Longbottom that he managed to pull this one off, anyway. One of the occupants’ parents owned the block—several in fact, all over London. This was by far the best, and the monthly expenses were criminally cheap, but only a handful of people lived there and it was next to impossible to get in.
But Remus had.
And he knew there were going to be stares. And questions. And these people had a rapport with each other, a history he didn’t.
But he was determined. His parents wanted this for him. His father had mourned the loss of years for Remus, in spite of his son telling him it was fine, that he could handle it. In the end, Remus was doing this mostly for that old man who never stopped believing in him.
With a sigh, he looked back at the car he had borrowed off Frank, the boxes still inside which would take ages with his hand, but it was what it was. He glanced down at his fingers, curled into his palm, the scarring cleverly hidden under his long sleeve—but eventually they’d notice. Not that it mattered, really. He just hoped he could do enough of the work before someone took pity on him.
Licking his lips, he fiddled with his key, then unlocked the door and stepped in.
***
Remus hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect. Certainly not an empty flat. There wasn’t a sound, just a note on the counter in the kitchen telling him directions to his bedroom and a “can’t wait to meet you.” It was bizarre, but it meant he could work and struggle all on his own without prying eyes.
It took him three long hours to haul each box into his room. He left the door wide open, not bothering with the locks as Frank said they were never necessary, and the fact that no one was there to pester him. He eventually found himself in the kitchen ordering a pizza since he wasn’t in the mood for cooking. Twenty minutes passed as he rummaged round, just taking inventory as he didn’t want to steal food from someone else—and hadn’t bothered to buy his share of the groceries besides—when there was a noise.
Footsteps, then a startled sort of gasp.
Remus spun on his heel and his eyes went wide at the sight of a total stranger. Logic calmed him down, reminding him the stranger probably lived there as there were several other people who flatted there.
The moment his brain calmed down and his amber eyes met steel grey, he took in how attractive the person was. They were clad in black leggings, splattered with various what looked like acrylic paints, and a cropped tank-top with glitter writing that read Weekends are for Waffles. Their hair was pulled back into a messy bun which was held together by a paintbrush slowly dripping a sort of electric blue down the side of their face which would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but Remus found compelling.
At any rate, it matched the splatters of greens and yellows all over their arms, the left of which was also covered in tattoos from shoulder to wrist.
Swallowing hard, Remus gathered himself. “Hi. I’m Remus, I’ve just moved in.”
The person stared, then rolled their eyes and nodded at the fridge.
Remus followed their gaze with a frown. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was top of the line—sure. Several photos and various seventies punk band magnets littering the side. There was a child-like drawing of four stick figures holding hands under a poorly painted yellow sun, with a swing-set behind them, and it made Remus wonder for a moment of there was a child round until he saw a scribble at the bottom that read James Potter.
He almost laughed until the stranger huffed, walked past him, and grabbed the dry-erase board Remus hadn’t noticed before. They then shoved it at Remus, with a blue marker and made a writing gesture.
Remus wasn’t thick, but being startled it took him several embarrassingly long seconds to work out what the person was trying to tell him.
Several scenarios went through his head, most of them unlikely—maybe they were foreign and only understood written English, maybe they had a phobia of stranger’s voices? Mostly likely they were Hard of Hearing or Deaf, but Remus didn’t want to assume.
So instead he shoved his curled hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, used his mouth to uncap the marker, and scribbled. Sorry. I’m Remus, I’ve just moved in. Are you James?
The stranger stared at Remus’ shit for handwriting with a frown, deciphered it, then pointed to themselves. “Sirius.”
Yep, the accent. Deaf.
They then took the marker and scribbled in very neat block letters. James and Lily on Honeymoon. They didn’t say?
I only spoke with Frank about the move-in. I thought I was meeting James. Sorry.
Sirius waved him off. Pronouns
Remus blinked. He looked up at Sirius, a bit confused until Sirius pointed at himself, then scribbled again.
Sirius. He/him. Yours?
Remus’ eyes shot up. Sorry. He/him. I ordered pizza if you want some.
Sirius studied the whiteboard, then broke into a full, sunny grin and beckoned Remus along toward the stairs. Remus remembered to grab the little board before scrambling up the stairs, past a corridor, and into a massive area which looked like it had once been two flats converted into a massive lounge. In fact, the entire block was really bizarre, the way it was set up. It wasn’t like traditional student flatting, and it made Remus both curious, and rather nervous.
But he followed Sirius to a massive L-shaped sofa where they both sat, keeping a cushion of distance between them. It was awkward, to say the least. Frank hadn’t warned him about the whole language barrier thing—and what was worse was Remus had no real way to even try considering the state of his hand which was nearly non-functioning.
He sighed, but before he could begin to write anything, the lights in the room flickered. Remus startled, but caught a glimpse of a smile off Sirius’ face and he made a motion with his hands like a door opening. Remus started to get up, but Sirius made an impatient noise and waved him back to sitting.
He darted out of the room, and Remus sighed, digging into his pocket for a twenty he had lodged in there. Sirius returned a few minutes later with the pizza and a couple of beers which he offered to Remus, then sat back down, opening the box between them.
Remus offered over the cash, but Sirius merely smiled, waving Remus off again. As he had no way to argue—the pizza was sat on the board and he didn’t want to be rude—he merely set the cash aside and they started to dig in.
It was strange, it was quiet, but comfortable and Remus started to rather enjoy it. They exchanged soft glances and every now and again Sirius would make a gesture—likely not proper sign language, and Remus would nod or shake his head.
They finished off the food and beer, and eventually Sirius retrieved the board as Remus shoved up his sleeves against the heat now trickling out of a nearby vent.
You sign?
Remus shook his head. Sorry, no.
Before he could further explain, Sirius’ eyes drifted to his exposed arm, and his gaze fixed on the scarring. Remus was used to being around people who knew about it all. The tumour, the accident during the surgery, and what it meant for him. But Sirius didn’t. His grey eyes traced over the two scars, one two centimetres wide, going from elbow to the outside of his wrist. The second a thin, white like against his olive skin in a zig-zag pattern to the side of the first scar, decorating the top of his forearm.
Remus felt his face heat up as Sirius’ gaze then shifted down to Remus’ closed fist. When Remus looked up, Sirius waggled his first finger in front of his chest, then swung it up under his crooked arm and mouthed, ‘What happened?’
Remus chewed on his lip as he took the marker, contemplating how much to tell. I had a tumour when I was a baby, was born with it. It grew a lot as I got older, wrapped itself round tendons and the radial nerve. When I had surgery to remove it, the surgeon accidentally severed it. They attempted to do repair, but it didn’t work. I can’t open my fingers or thumb.
Sirius read it over, blinking owlishly as he looked back up at Remus. He made a gesture, open palms pointed toward his chest as he alternated them up and down, and he mouthed, ‘Hurt?’
Remus smiled gently, shaking his head. “No,” he said, and felt a bit pleased when Sirius was able to understand that. He grabbed the marker. Mostly numb
Boldly, Sirius reached out and traced a long finger up the zig-zagging scar, then smiled and leant back against the cushion. He gave a shrug as if to say, Oh well, we’ll get by, and Remus thought that maybe they would. The quiet wasn’t so bad anyway. It wasn’t silence, after-all.
***
They had an entire week together before James and Lily’s return. They had another flatmate which Remus met only once. His name was Peter, but he worked in some sort of international finance—far out of his Uni days it seemed, and travelled almost constantly. He was nice enough though, even going so far as to play terp during the one tea he attended with Remus and Sirius and conversation flowed a bit easier.
Remus lamented his inability to open his hand at all, meaning that sign was beyond him. He’d done some research, but sign was so reliant on two hands that he wasn’t sure there was any way he could modify it to properly communicate with Sirius. It made him ache a bit, with both frustration and want. He was used to it in a way though, and appreciated that Sirius never seemed entirely bothered that they were so reliant on their small notes through the day.
But with them came a wave of information Remus learnt about his flatmate which he tucked away in a small space behind his ribs he was starting to keep Sirius Things. His flatmate was an artist—something he gathered from the paint and brushes which were all over him, and all over the flat by the next morning. He let very few people near his studio, but when a canvas was finished, he displayed it proudly anywhere and everywhere in the flat until it sold.
Sirius was also a tattoo artist, working by appointment only out of his brother’s shop. Sirius wrote a near novel about Regulus, which came with the other revelation, Sirius was a trans man. Remus had realised this on his own, after walking in on Sirius after his shower. Sirius was wearing a towel slung low round his waist, and just below several chest tattoos of a dog, a Lily, and a stag, were two crescent shaped, thick scars below his nipples.
He caught Remus staring, but instead of getting upset, he merely reached out and traced Remus’ larger scar as if to say, I know what it’s like to feel the recovery of knives changing your body. And maybe it wasn’t the exact same, but Remus found he appreciated the sentiment. Especially after Sirius’ hand then travelled to his cheek to give it a fond pat before he wandered off.
But the story was hard to read. Sirius had been disowned by his family when they learnt he was in the boys dorms at their school. He’d been given the option to give up his ‘behaviour’ and apologise. Sirius had refused. He was thrown out of the house in a most violent fashion, and it was James’ family who took him in. It was obvious the trauma still affected Sirius, but he had made amends with his brother and loved the Potters like they had always been his parents.
Remus didn’t quite understand it, really. He’d grown up loved. Although he didn’t often have close friends, he’d never experienced what Sirius had. It made him wish he could get to know him better, and it made him all the more bitter that Sirius’ language was beyond him.
***
It was a few days before James and Lily were set to arrive home. Remus was sat in the lounge with the telly on silent in the background, a book spread out over his knees, and his hand was stretched wide out into his splint which he wore usually in the privacy of his own room, but he’d been neglecting it since the move in.
He was caught up in the pages and didn’t notice another presence in the room until Sirius’ thin fingers gripped onto his shoulder and squeezed. Remus glanced up, startled until he saw Sirius’ eyes, and he immediately relaxed.
“Hey,” he said as Sirius knelt down next to his legs.
Sirius pointed to the splint, then waggled his first finger in front of his chest in a sign Remus now immediately recognised. ‘What?’
“It’s my splint,” Remus said, then glanced round for the board, but it was nowhere to be found. Sirius seemed to follow what he was saying though.
Reaching out, Sirius touched the small bands which wrapped round Remus’ fingers, stretching them along the stiff, hand-shaped bit. The finger along his skin was warm, sending shooting tingles up his arm, even in places he normally had no feeling at all. He swallowed thickly, then met Sirius’ gaze which was a bit heated, if he was being honest.
Sirius reached out, taking the book off Remus’ lap, marked the page, and set it on the table. He then grabbed Remus hand and hoisted him up with a small laugh, dragging him to the sofa where he sat with his legs crossed, and Remus’ hand still in his.
“What?” Remus asked.
Sirius held up a finger, asking him for patience. Reaching over, he picked up a sheet of printed paper which was sat on the small table beside the sofa arm, and he presented it to Remus with a flourish. Across the top in block letters read, ‘DEAF-BLIND MANUAL ALPHABET.’ Below that was a series of drawings of two hands making various shapes.
Remus blinked at him, a little confused until Sirius made a V, touching the corner of his eye with it, then drew it forward mouthing, ‘Watch.’ He then grabbed Remus’ hand, splaying it flat out with his palm up, and began to press his own hand into the series of shapes from the paper. He moved too fast for Remus to properly catch on or follow, but he understood then what Sirius was showing him. It was the manual alphabet that could be signed with one hand onto another person’s. On to Sirius’.
“Alphabet,” Sirius said aloud. “Understand?”
Remus nodded emphatically. Sirius chuckled, then put his own palm out, shoving the paper at Remus with a gesture for him to give it a go.
Which he did. It took him a solid two minutes to spell it out, but when he did, he came away with, ‘I get it. Thank you.’
Sirius laughed and said, “Thank you,” then drew the tips of his four fingers from the front of his chin outward. “One hand.”
Remus beamed, replicating the sign, and Sirius rewarded him with the most sunny smile Remus had ever seen.
They spent the next several hours going between watching shit reality television and working on the alphabet. Remus couldn’t retain much of the letters without the paper, but it was something. The conversation took ages but Sirius’ unending, unfailing patience won out and though Remus went to bed exhausted, he felt like he’d been given a small gift. One he would treasure forever.
***
James arrived a few days later, like a tidal wave of affection Remus was wholly unused to. James embraced him like he’d known Remus his entire life, and not his wife nor Sirius bat an eye so Remus took it as business as usual.
James was incredibly tall, falling a hair shorter than Remus. His wild black hair and dark skin leant itself to his personality, bright and happy, and all around sort of bursting with a joy Remus didn’t see in a lot of people. He immediately slipped into terp mode, bringing and ease to the conversation between Remus and Sirius they didn’t experience before.
It was a relief in a way, and also reminded Remus of the ease he would never have with his other flatmate when they were alone. Which crushed him.
It was obvious to himself now he fancied Sirius, though he had every intention of keeping that to himself—no matter how often Sirius appeared to flirt.
But things settled into a strange sort of void in the home. Remus became one of the family almost immediately, and although he still felt weird about it, he eventually became accustomed to the whole situation. Cuddled by James, long conversations about Literature and Politics with Lily, the offhanded, adorable flirting with Sirius, and when Peter was round, the worst, most terrible dad-jokes Remus had ever heard.
It was a strange home.
But it was his.
***
Remus looked up from his book when he heard James groan for the fifth time. His flatmate looked harassed, his hair messier than ever, dark cheeks hollowed from biting on them, and his nails had been bit down to the quick.
“Alright, Prongs?” Remus asked, using the nickname he’d been introduced to months ago.
James glanced up and sighed. “Moony, come over here and give me a cuddle. I’m about to lose it, and Lily’s working the overnight, and god knows where Padfoot is.”
Remus laughed, but now used to his flatmate’s antics, he shifted from the sofa to the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with James and put one arm round him. James turned his face into Remus’ neck and breathed. “Why am I getting into law? Why did I let my dad talk me into this?”
“Because you secretly hate yourself,” Remus said, nudging him with a smile.
James pulled back, rolling his eyes. “You know that might be it. You should go into psychology.”
“I think I’ve enough of my own issues, thank you,” Remus said.
James sighed, absently running his hand down Remus’ arm, his finger toying at a puckered patch of scarring. He then turned Remus’ hand palm up, the fingers curled inward until James pressed his own against them and splayed them wide.
“Can you use your hand at all?”
The topic of Remus’ injury didn’t come up often. James had never asked, and apart from the first thing Remus had written to Sirius about it, it never came up between them.
“Yes. The nerve that was severed controlled my ability to open my palm. I can close it.” Remus lifted his arm and demonstrated. Of course that hand was much weaker, atrophied a bit, and significantly smaller than his other. But he could ball a fist if he wanted. “It’s good for punching.”
James snorted and pulled Remus in close. “You know, I’ve had some really shite flatmates in the past. I need to remember to send Frank a gift basket or something.”
Remus rolled his eyes back at James, but honestly couldn’t disagree. He was happy there. “Jamie? Can I ask you a question?”
“Is it about Sirius?” James asked in a knowing tone Remus chose to ignore.
“How’d you two become friends?”
James leant his head back against the seat of the chair and looked at Remus out of the side of his hazel eyes. “Well…we were both going to this incredibly posh public school. Hogwarts. It’s in Scotland, and both of our families had sent their sons there for years. It’s sort of the rival of Eton, except it was trying to modernise so it was admitting people of…”
“Lower class?” Remus ventured.
James winced. “Reckon it was seen that way. My dad was campaigning for it, though. Always had been. I mean he sort of got it. Our family is incredibly wealthy but considered second-class by so many because we’re Indian. Anyway so the year I went, they started admitting girls. Lily was going—on a scholarship and she struggled a lot from that, but obviously it worked out.”
Remus glanced at James’ wedding band and grinned. “Reckon it did.”
“I got put into Gryffindor—one of the school houses—with Sirius. I wasn’t sure about him. His family was…” James sighed. “Complicated. They’re Asian too, you know—Thai—but his mum was the sort who wanted to be colonised. To show they were proper English. It was worse though because Sirius was…well, he was Sirius. Reckless and rude and had a mind of his own. He was Deaf, but his parents had him in rigorous speech therapy. It was brilliant in a way, he could read lips from across the room so he was great when we were trying to eaves drop and plan pranks.” James smiled and looked rather fond of the memories. “I caught him in the supply cupboard stealing the boys’ uniforms and by then you know, I was alright at sign language—it was a good way to also plan pranks because no one at the school used it. Anyway he sort of came out, told me he was a boy, that his name was Sirius. It confused me being only eleven and all, but I told him we had to talk to our Head of House and eventually the Headmaster got involved and I sort of…went a bit barmy when they first said he had to stay with the girls. I started shouting, ‘You can’t make boys sleep with girls, it’s against the rules!’ Eventually it got sorted.”
Remus watched James’ face the entire time, and he could see the love he had for Sirius. “Wish I’d been there to see that.”
James grinned. “You would have been a brilliant addition, Moony. But you know, we were inseparable after that. I asked my parents about it, and they told me what they knew. Sort of explained transgender to me, and dysphoria. My dad had worked on a couple of civil discrimination suits during the eighties when shite was really bad round Britain. He became a fixture at ours. My parents learnt sign, and he slowly stopped speaking.”
“I bet he felt better after that,” Remus said quietly.
James cocked his head to the side. “Is something about him bothering you?”
Remus shook his head, but it was plain by his expression that he was lying. “I just…” he started when James gave him The Look, “I want to be able to speak to him but I can’t. I mean I can spell. He taught me that tactile alphabet but it takes ages and I just…we can never do this.” He waved his hand between himself and James.
“You wish you could?”
Remus blinked. “I…I mean I feel good about what we have. It’s like we can communicate without words most of the time. And I get him. I think I get him. But I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be for him.”
James worried his bottom lip before saying, “You could just talk to him about it. Proper talk. His lip reading is still very decent and he tries hard for you. Because you’ve tried fucking hard for him. You’ve never asked him to use a different way to communicate when you, of all people, rightfully could have.”
Remus looked down. “Am I obvious?”
“What?” James asked with a laugh. “That you fancy him?” When Remus flushed bright red, James pulled him in for a tight hug. “Mate, you’re only as obvious as he is. Just work it out. You two are good together.”
“D’you know where he is?”
“Doing a tattoo,” James said. “You know the shop’s not far. He wouldn’t hate seeing you.”
“I wouldn’t want to leave you on your own,” Remus muttered.
James gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. “M’a big boy, Moons. Go on. I’ll order some pizza for when you two losers get back.”
Remus knew then it was now or never.
And he was all for now.
***
Reg’s shop, Lion’s Heart Tattoo and Piercings, was right round the corner from their flat. It was easy to miss, only a small window with a glowing sign reading TATOO giving it away. The door was a deep, emerald green, and closed tight against the city streets.
Remus carefully eased it open, and stepped in.
The inside surprised him. It was like a punk-rock dentist’s office. A waiting area with a worn, leather sofa, and a small table littered with magazines. There were a few shelves, the walls first displaying all the necessary legal certifications in frames, the rest covered in art. It smelt sterile and the floors were bright white.
There was a massive counter, sat behind that a woman with violently bubble gum pink hair and gauged ears who was grinning at him. “You look lost.”
“I was er…looking for Sirius. I’m Remus.”
The woman’s eyes flew wide. “Oh fuck me. You’re Remus?”
Flushing, he shrugged. “Er. Yes.”
“Oh my god he will not shut up about you. He’s just finishing off a tattoo right now. Come round immediately.”
Remus felt like he had no choice but to obey, and walked through the doors to be then accosted by the shorter woman who gave him a once over, spinning him. “Yes. Yes you’re very cute.”
Remus flushed again. “Well I…er. Thanks?”
“And shy. Holy shit no wonder he’s in love with you.”
Remus felt his stomach attempt to escape out of his toes. “Ah. Said that, did he?”
Just then, the back door opened and for a split second, Remus thought it was Sirius. Then he realised the man was taller, with a sharp undercut styled into a fauxhawk. He was wearing all black, tattoos up both arms, and a septum piercing. But his face was so strikingly like Sirius, there was only one person that could be.
“Appointment?” he asked. He had a slight Deaf accent as well.
“No,” the woman said, spinning in her chair. “This is Remus.”
Regulus’ eyes widened. “Oh. Finally.” He stuck out his hand, crossing the room. “He’s nearly done.”
“Was I er…expected?”
The woman burst into laughter, and Regulus rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Nym. Don’t mind her, she likes to embarrass my brother. And no, but I reckoned you’d be down here one of these days.”
Just then, the second door opened and a woman with red-rimmed eyes walked out. She gave them a watery smile, then made her way out with her head bowed.
“Top of the foot tattoo,” Nym explained as though it should have made sense.
Regulus clearly saw the confusion on Remus’ face and filled him in. “Horrid place, hurts really badly but even when we warn people, they never listen.”
“Ah,” Remus said.
Reg studied him for a moment. “Well, go on in. He’ll be delighted to see you.”
Remus walked as though propelled by outside forces, grabbing the door handle and stepping into the room. He immediately recognised half the works on the wall as Sirius’. He had a distinct style, a lot of his tattoo water-colour technique. There were also several photos of James, Lily, Peter, Reg, and Nym pinned to a corkboard.
Sirius was sat near the plush tattoo chair, and he looked up in surprise when he noticed the movement. His eyes widened, and he rose. “Remus,” he said.
Remus grinned. “Er…” He lifted his hand in greeting, and was pulled into a hug. When he pulled away, his fingers twitched, debating about whether to sign at his excruciating pace, or just…go for it. ‘Sorry,’ he signed, rubbing his fist in a circle round his chest.
Sirius waved him off, then held up a finger for him to wait. He quickly began to tidy up his work station, and when he was finished, he jumped on the tattoo chair and shifted, leaving just enough room for Remus. Patting the seat, he waited with a grin until Remus gave up and crawled up onto it.
“Hi,” Sirius whispered.
Remus laughed. “James sent me,” he said, watching to make sure Sirius understood him. “Is it alright if I…if I speak?”
‘Verbal,’ he signed, pointing to his mouth in question.
Remus nodded.
Sirius shrugged, then nodded back, mouthing, ‘Okay.’
“I just,” Remus stopped and took a breath, knowing he should make his sentences concise and short. “I fancy you.”
Well he hadn’t meant to make it that short or concise but there it was and Sirius was staring at him almost startled.
“Me?” he asked aloud, then pointed to himself.
Remus was the colour of a tomato but in for a penny, so he nodded. Then signed again, ‘Sorry.’
Sirius’ hands moved so fast, Remus didn’t realise until Sirius had him by the wrists. “No sorry,” he said softly. “I fancy you.”
Remus felt his entire body humming as he inched closer. “Yeah?”
Sirius nodded, then released one of Remus’ wrists to press his fingers—all pinched to his thumb—to the corner of Remus mouth. ‘Kiss,’ he signed and mouthed.
Remus felt his throat constrict and his heart begin to pound with want and need and oh god. He was nodding then though, and moving forward and Sirius’ hands had slipped from his wrists to his cheeks. The first touch was tentative, hesitant, but sent sparks shooting up his spine. He felt more than heard the groan coming from Sirius’ the vibration of it tickling across his tongue as it danced with Sirius’.
When it was over, and they were both a little breathless and shaking, Sirius looked down at Remus’ hands, then back up at his face. “Okay?”
Remus worried his bottom lip. “Does it bother you? That I can’t talk to you the way James can. Or…anyone else?”
Sirius smiled, shaking his head, and pressed a hand over Remus’ heart to feel the rapid thudding against his ribs. “You and me…different. Yes?”
Remus nodded firmly.
“I like it,” Sirius said, then leant in for one more, soft kiss.
When he pulled away, Remus pointed to himself, then pointed a finger and made half the sign for, ‘Me too.’
Sirius laughed brightly and tugged him close. “You make me happy,” he murmured.
Remus let himself fall into Sirius’ arms and realised he didn’t quite need to express it back. Because Sirius just knew. They didn’t always need the words, and that was—Remus realised—just fine.