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When Remus wakes up, his first thought is “I should not be awake right now.”
It’s still pitch black and the room is silent, save James and Peter’s snoring. Remus’ eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness, but he can see, vaguely, due to the light of the first quarter moon, that everything looks to be about right. He can’t remember any dreams, and he’s not feeling anxious or anything, so he doubts he had a nightmare. It seems like he woke up naturally, which makes no sense. His pants are dry, so he didn’t start his period, either. There’s no pain in his body, so it’s not like his chronic back, leg, and hip aches roused him.
A glance at the clock tells him that it’s 2:00 A.M., which means he certainly shouldn’t be awake. Remus looks around, trying to figure out what caused him to get up this early. He frowns. Sleep is very important to him, and he doesn’t enjoy it being disturbed. He surveys the room, then notices that something is off. Sirius’ curtains are drawn.
Out of all of them, Sirius and Remus were probably tied for the most private Marauder until second year, roughly three years ago, when they discovered him to be both transgender and a werewolf. Since then, he’s become much looser with them. They might’ve assumed Sirius to be much more open in past years, although, that could be because they were all young, bearing no experience with anything outside of their closed worlds.
James’ parents are kind and generous, the two most loving people Remus has ever met. They spoiled him rotten, with both physical gifts and love. Remus’ parents, while imperfect, love him dearly and work incredibly hard to provide for him. They’re not the most well off, sure, but they’ve always made sure he knows they’d give him anything he wanted if they were capable of it. Peter’s dad might’ve left when he was young, but his mum has always been there for him and his older sister, providing them a stable home life with the aid of his grandparents. Point being: while they’ve all always been aware that abuse happens, none of them ever experienced it, so they never expected that someone around them could experience it.
Over the later end of their fourth year and the first few weeks of this one, Remus, James, and Peter have begun to wonder if the House of Black might not treat Sirius right. Sirius, ever evasive when it comes to talking about his family, has cleverly and smoothly steered conversations away from his relatives whenever they try to ask about anything. It’s only well after the actual talk, when Remus is laying in bed, trying to sleep, that he realizes he never actually got an answer to his question.
Now, Remus is beginning to suspect that Sirius is keeping more secrets than anyone knows. He always comes back from breaks quiet and sullen, irritable and defensive, looking to pick fights with any and everyone who so much as breathes in his direction. He always looks exhausted, as well, as though he hasn’t slept at all. He’s jumpy and he’s angsty and he keeps his emotions even closer to his chest, taking frequent trips to the bathroom or other private places for no discernible reason. He wears baggier clothes and refuses to let anyone touch him for the first few days, not to mention how he starts to get miserable and angry whenever he knows he’ll have to leave school.
Despite Sirius’ private nature, though, he typically keeps the curtains around his four poster open. When Remus sees that they’re closed, he’s immediately concerned, and it’s not just because he may or may not have fancied Sirius since second year. After a moment, though, Remus realizes what it is, exactly, that woke him up. A breathy, nearly inaudibly sound comes from Sirius’ bed, followed by a slightly louder, muffled sob.
That is about as far from normal as anything can be. Sirius isn’t a crier. Remus has never actually heard him cry, has never even seen a tear in his eye. His emotions are always under lock and key, he’s in complete control of them at all times. Remus has watched him smile and talk to people like they’re friends, completely believing the act, until they leave and Sirius scowls, scoffing and explaining all the reasons he hates them. Those interactions make Remus wonder how many feelings he might be hiding, but he didn’t expect to hear him crying in the middle of the night.
A moment later, Remus hears another sob. He’s not a light enough sleeper for something like that to wake him, and that fact breaks his heart. Sirius must’ve been unable to hold back a particularly loud cry. Remus wonders if he should get up and help. He’s well aware that Sirius hates being looked down upon and views any sort of sympathy as pity, but he also knows he’d like someone to comfort when he’s having a hard time.
On top of that, though, Remus has a selfish desire to stay in bed. He can’t flatten his chest while he’s sleeping, so there’s some mass there, and, despite his thick, oversized jumper, he worries that Sirius might see. As much as he knows Remus is transgender, there’s a difference between knowing and seeing proof. Then Sirius sobs again, and he immediately shuts his thoughts down and forces himself to toss the blankets off of himself and gets out of bed.
He walks to the other boy’s four poster, hesitating right before opening the curtains. Before that, he tries calling out. “Sirius?” he tries softly. The second the name leaves his lips, the shuffling in Sirius’ bed silences with a sharp gasp. After a moment or two, Remus realizes that Sirius isn’t going to reply. Instead, he’s trying to pretend he’s sleeping. “Sirius, I know you’re awake. I heard you.”
After a moment, he hears Sirius sigh wetly, and the bed frame creaks. Remus assumes, based on the sounds, that he’s flopped down on the mattress. Remus doesn’t touch the curtains. Sirius is vulnerable, and it would be rude to cross boundaries when he’s in a state like this.
“Can I come in?” Remus asks. It takes a second to get a response.
“I guess,” comes Sirius’ deep, rough voice. Remus pulls the curtains open, and Sirius rolls over, facing away from him but making enough space for him to get into bed with him. Crawling onto the mattress, Remus pulls the blankets up and lays down next to him. Sirius stays on top of them, which makes sense. He runs hot, Remus runs cold. He’s not shy about getting into bed, they’ve laid together multiple times and are quite a touchy friend group. Sirius is, easily, the most touch averse out of all of them— the more upset he is, the less he likes it, and, even then, he likes his space.
“Are you alright?” Remus asks, tempted to reach out and press his hand against Sirius’ broad back. He wants to flatten his palm against the back of Sirius’ tee shirt, feel his warmth through his clothes and have that contact with him. He wants to plaster himself against Sirius, wrap himself around his friend and breathe him in.
“Yeah,” Sirius mutters, sniffing. “Did I wake you up?” he questions, and Remus’ desire to hold him only increases. Remus wants to kiss him and nestle him against his chest, make him feel as special and perfect as he is.
“I don’t mind,” Remus reassures him. Sirius hums, acknowledging, but doesn’t say anything. “You were crying,” he comments. It’s not a question. Remus takes a chance and reaches out, hand brushing Sirius’ back. When that doesn’t get a response, he presses it against him. “Why were you crying, Sirius?”
“It’s nothing, Moony,” Sirius says. Remus wants to flip him over, straddle his hips and plaster their chests together, be allowed to kiss him and crawl into his shirt with him and exist together, always. “You can go back to bed, if you’d like,” he adds softly. Remus frowns. He will not be doing that, not until he knows Sirius is alright.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” Remus murmurs. Sirius’ shoulders relax some, and Remus moves closer, closer, and closer. When he’s sure Sirius knows he’s moving towards him but isn’t pulling away, Remus decides, rather bravely, to slowly wrap an arm around Sirius’ torso, nuzzling into thick, dark curls, feeling a strangely safe sensation wash over him the second he comes into contact with the bigger boy.
“Feeling cuddly?” Sirius asks, laughing. It feels forced, like he’s trying to distract from the fact that he’s been crying, and Remus never wants him to feel like he can’t express himself. He flattens his chest against Sirius’ back and does his best to curl around him. A few times, on full moons, Sirius has spooned him, sharing warmth and soothing his rampant nerves with his presence. Remus wants to do that for him. It’s difficult, on account of Sirius being significantly taller and broader than him, so he’s more like a backpack than anything, but he’s trying.
“You seem like you need it,” Remus shrugs as best as he can and wriggles until his leg— and the blanket— come up to hook over Sirius’ hip, pressing his face into the muscled shoulder in front of it. Sirius big hand meets Remus’ and that’s all the acceptance he needs.
“You need sleep, Moony,” Sirius says evasively. Remus wonders, perhaps a little bit hopefully, if that’s an invitation to stay for the night. He would love that. He would love to sleep in the same bed as Sirius, breasts be damned, if it only meant being able to hold him for a night. James and Sirius have sleepovers on occasion, spending the night with the younger of the two sprawled across the older’s chest and most of the bed, snoring loudly right into his ear. Every time Remus sees it, he feels a pang of envy, followed up by overwhelming guilt. Remus knows he would be easier to sleep with than James. James tosses and turns, snores, takes up as much space as possible. He feels bad for thinking that immediately.
“I’ll be fine,” Remus brushes him off. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about? It doesn’t have to be about whatever is bothering you tonight. Could be anything,” he says, thumb running over the callused skin of Sirius’ hand, wishing they could be like this more often. He wishes they could kiss, could hold each other, could be together. He doubts Sirius feels the same as he does, his best friend’s behaviour towards him has never changed, even Lily says as much, so he figures that that must be off the table.
“I…” Sirius trails off, then sighs again. “It’s complicated. I don’t have much I can share,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet. “I’d like to tell you some of it, but I can’t. There’s too much at stake, you know?” he says. Remus never would’ve guessed that some of Sirius’ secret keeping would be due to something being at risk if he were to share.
“Like what?” Remus asks. “What’s at stake?”
“Well, there’s a few things,” Sirius says slowly. He hesitates. “Sometimes, I worry that, if I told you, I’d be sacrificing our friendship. I like being friends with you too much to risk that,” he admits quietly into the pillow. Remus’ heart skips at least ten beats, then. Does Sirius like him back? Does Sirius think he’ll be pushed away by something? Has Remus done something wrong?
“I wouldn’t leave you for anything,” Remus says, heard beating out of his chest, slamming against his ribs, hand tightening on Sirius’. He leans in, and, before he knows what he’s doing, kisses the bump at the ridge of Sirius’ spine. Sirius freezes, his entire body going ridged, but, after a second of tension, he roughly yanks Remus’ hand up and kisses his knuckles. Remus inhales sharply, but goes slack against Sirius’ strong, solid body.
“Anything, huh?” Sirius breathes. Remus tangles his fingers with Sirius’ and squeezes his much bigger hand. It’s one of his favourite things about his best friend. Where Remus’ hands are thin and soft, Sirius’ are thick and callused, his skin always pleasantly warm, rough in a way that makes him seem capable. Remus wants to kiss him over and over again until their lips are numb and bruised.
“Yeah, anything,” Remus confirms, wishing he could throw the blankets off without moving away from Sirius so he could go full koala-style and wind himself around the older boy. Sirius frees his hand from Remus’, which breaks his heart for a moment, until he uses it to pull the blankets around himself and lean back against the werewolf. Remus, rather excitedly, throws his leg over Sirius’ hip, properly, this time, and pulls him back as close as possible. His hand winds into Sirius’ once again, and he feels whole. Wrapped around Sirius, holding his hand, having whispered, open conversations. This feels a lot like one of Remus’ dreams.
“You’re sweet, Moonpie,” Sirius says. He sounds like he’s smiling. It sounds real. It sounds like he’s genuinely happy to be talking to Remus. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things for a long time. Just… lots on my mind, lots to worry about. Plenty to occupy myself with. Who has time for sleep when your brain has more than enough to think about for the rest of time, right?” he laughs humourlessly. That happiness is gone. He just sounds sad, now. Remus wants to make him smile more than anything in the world.
“Is there anything you can share with me?” Remus asks. He’s been asking a lot of a questions tonight. He can’t help it, he wants to know everything about Sirius.
“I don’t think so. All of it is very connected,” Sirius says, then goes quiet. Remus desperately wants to kiss him better. It would never work, of course not, he’s not allowed to, but he wishes he lived in a universe in which it would.
“Alright,” Remus hums, tempted to trace the dips and valleys of Sirius’ pale skin with his fingers, memorize every mole and scar on his body, kiss him everywhere, from his forehead to his ankles. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to talk for a little bit before bed? I’d like to spend some time with you before I go again,” he says. He’s worried that, if he goes too soon, Sirius will start crying again and Remus, himself, will break upon letting go of the big, warm form in front of him.
“Yeah, we can keep talking,” Sirius assents quickly, nearly desperately. Remus smiles. “I love talking to you,” he whispers, and it sounds like a confession. Remus’ heart races, but he’s determined not to fuck this up. Sirius isn’t implying that he loves Remus, that’s not possible. A glowing ball of magic appears from seemingly nowhere. Sirius’ wandless magic capabilities have always been impressive, and the ease in which he manages to make this happen is only more impressive.
“Yeah,” Remus agrees, voice breathy and heart pounding. “Yeah, me too,” he says. He can’t help the fact that it sounds like a confession, too. Maybe Sirius gets the message. Maybe he can hear the hope in his voice. Maybe he can see that Remus is genuinely obsessed with him, completely and utterly infatuated.
“I think you’re brilliant,” Sirius says suddenly. “I think… I think you’re really pretty and funny, too,” he adds somewhat forcefully. Remus is quite certain he stops breathing the second the words come out of his mouth. One thick swallow later, Remus pulls Sirius as close to him as he can, hoping and praying to every god out there that this means they’re on the same page.
“Me, too,” Remus is thoroughly out of his comfort zone; he hasn’t had his first kiss, hasn’t dated, hasn’t been in any sort of relationship, but he’s certainly going to try. “I— I think that you’re really smart. Like, the smartest person I know. And— and really pretty. Like, beautiful. And, uh, handsome. Funny, too! Really, really funny. And, um, super good to people— like, take good care of everyone, and— and you’re really smart— shit, I already said that, um—” Remus stumbles over his words, feeling awfully stupid. Then Sirius cuts him off with a laugh, and that makes everything better.
Sirius rolls over to face Remus, and he feels warm inside. There’s still moisture clinging to his eyelashes, which frame bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes, but, despite that, he’s smiling wide enough that they’re crinkled at the corners. Once he’s noted that, though, Remus quickly realizes their proximity. He still has his arm around Sirius’ torso, one leg around his hip and the other slipped between his thighs, their faces barely seven centimetres apart. Remus can barely breathe at this point.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Sirius’ deep, gravelly voice feels wonderful when it’s paired with that sweet, loving smile. Warm hands come up to cup Remus’ cheeks, holding him like a lover might. Merlin, he wishes. “Pretty, beautiful, and handsome? What else am I, Moony?” he leans in, and now their lips are barely an inch apart, now. “Do you think I’m… attractive? Hot, even?” he asks, tone teasing, eyes mischievous. Remus is drowning. Drowning in his feelings, his love, his thoughts. He wants to kiss Sirius. He wants his first kiss to be in the safety of the closed curtains of Sirius’ bed, held in strong arms, silver eyes reflecting the warm light in a way that makes flecks of white gold dance in them.
“Yeah,” Remus blurts before he can even consider biting his tongue. He reaches up to cup Sirius’ face in return. “Yeah, you’re— fucking hell— you’re attractive. You’re hot. Definitely,” he stutters, unable to think straight with the way he can feel Sirius’ hot breath on his lips. He’s grinning. He’s grinning and chuckling and he just licked his fucking lips and Remus is going to explode. Sirius is stunning and maybe he feels the same way Remus does.
“You know, mon Amour,” Sirius purrs. The French term of endearment rolls off of his tongue, bouncing around in Remus’ head and, holy hell, does it ever feel good. “You’re stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. Your smile is my favourite thing in the world. Your eyes are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, like honey and topaz and amber. You are the kindest, most wonderful, brilliant person I’ve ever met,” he says. Remus never thought that just some sweet words would make him feel so overwhelmingly loved.
“Oh,” Remus mumbles dumbly. He’s quite sure his adoration is written all over his face, but, somehow, he doesn’t care, not at all. Instead of pulling away, Remus, in an uncharacteristically forward move, snakes his arms around Sirius’ broad shoulders. Sirius is already smiling, but it softens around the edges at Remus’ desperation, and he leans in even closer.
“Have you ever kissed anyone, Remus?” Sirius asks, almost inaudible. Remus can feel Sirius’ lips moving against his when he speaks.
“Not yet, but I’d— I’d like to,” Remus says quickly, too terrified to make the first move but too excited to put a stop to this. He would love to kiss Sirius. His lips are full and pink, and they look soft. Remus wants to feel them. “Probably won’t be any good, but… I’d really, really like to,” he mumbles, hoping, more than anything, that Sirius will close the gap between them.
“That’s alright, I’ll teach you,” Sirius whispers, and then his eyes slip shut and he’s kissing Remus. Holy fucking shite, Sirius is kissing Remus. Sirius Black. Oh, Merlin, how in the world is he actually kissing Sirius? Everyone in Hogwarts wants a piece of Sirius, from the hottest, most popular quidditch players to the gorgeous, talented duellists. How in the world has he decided that Remus Lupin is the one to kiss? Oh, fuck it, who cares, this is happening and Remus shouldn’t care why because this is happening!
Remus has no idea what to do with his hands or his mouth or his anything, really. Sirius’ existence, with his lips on Remus’, seems to have melted the werewolf’s brain. After a second of panic, Remus slams his eyes shut and scrambles to grab something— Sirius’ shirt, his hair, his shoulders, anything he can find purchase on. He can feel Sirius grinning into his mouth, and Remus swears he flatlines.
Kissing Sirius is everything. It’s like a puzzle piece clicking into place, like fireworks in the night sky, like a supernova bathing them in warmth and light and love. Remus never wants to stop. He wants to wrap himself around Sirius and live on his lips and breathe the same air. Sirius is warmwarmwarm and Remus wants more. He wants to pull Sirius on top of him and feel nothing but his body.
Remus knows for a fact that he’s not doing very well. He’s never done this and Sirius is liquefying his thoughts too thoroughly for him to try to put together some sort of strategy or learn something. All he can do is grab Sirius’ face and pull him closer, closer, closer. Breathing is getting harder, he’s probably been kissing for too long, but hell if he’s going to pull away first.
Suddenly, Remus is on his back and Sirius is on top of him, holding him and blanketing him in a strong body. Sirius tilts his head to the side and his lips do this sliding thing against Remus’, mouth slipping open slightly, hot and wet and perfect. Remus is way out of his depth, now, but Sirius seems capable of carrying on, so he’s willing to roll with it.
Eventually, Sirius pushes himself up, still so close that his breath fans over Remus’ lips. He’s panting, shoulders rising and falling, lips red and kiss-swollen and spit-wet. He’s fucking gorgeous. Remus love, love, loves him. Sirius, tall and strong and beautiful, kissed him. Sirius, intelligent and kind and brave, might feel the same way he does. Remus needs him forever.
“Hi, Sweetheart,” Sirius murmurs, smiling like Remus is the prize, here, not him.
“Hi,” Remus’ voice cracks embarrassingly, but he hardly even notices. His breaths are uneven and his lungs don’t seem to fill, but he’s too overwhelmed to care. Sirius white-gold eyes, alluring smile, and aristocratic features look almost ethereal in the soft lighting. His brows furrow, smile widening, eyes crinkling at the corners again. His cheeks are red and it’s still obvious that he’s been crying recently, but, Merlin, is he beautiful.
“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” Sirius says, studying Remus’ face with an awed look on his face. “I started wondering if you might see me like I see you back in third year, but I convinced myself you couldn’t feel that way, not about me, of all people,” he laughs ruefully, and Remus doesn’t know how to take that. What on earth does he mean “like me, of all people,” as though Sirius is anything less than perfect. There’s no one better in this world. “I guess I was a little dumb, then, hm?”
“I started liking you in second year,” Remus admits, eyes wide and heart pounding. “You were so amazing when you found out about me being a trans werewolf— made me feel so good and like I’m not weird or anything. You were always so handsome and wonderful, and then you weren’t afraid or disgusted, even though your family is so awful, and—” he cuts himself off, then and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know how you’d expect me not to fall for you after that,” he shrugs, biting his chapped lower lip. Sirius smiles down at him.
“Of course I wasn’t afraid, you’re my Moon,” Sirius says fondly, running his thumb over Remus’ cheek. The werewolf watches him with rapt attention, hands tightening on the back of Sirius’ shirt. The older boy must possess some unknown kind of magic, or, at the very least, be part Veela, because there’s no way a regular human could possibly be this enchanting. “Why on earth would I have been anything but mad for you?” he asks sweetly. Suddenly, Remus feels like he might cry, eyes burning and lip quivering. He does that a lot. His tear ducts are very overactive, and most strong emotions result in crying.
“Y— you always acted the same about me,” Remus sniffles, tempted to let go of Sirius to wipe his eyes, but he’s not willing to loosen his grasp for anything. “I even asked Lily, and she said you hadn’t changed, either, s-so I never thought— I never thought I’d have a chance, and you’re— well, everyone wants you, right? And I’m just— I’m just me, so I figured— I figured I’d just have our friendship and that would be okay,” by the end of his speech, Remus is sobbing. Sirius’ eyes are soft, smile sympathetic.
“Oh, Love,” Sirius ducks down to kiss the corner of Remus’ mouth. “You’re right, I never changed, but that’s not because I don’t fancy you. I fell for you the second I met you. You walked into the carriage just a little after James and I met, and I instantly thought you were the most wonderful person in the world. You were so small, so cute, and I couldn’t get over the way you were stuttering,” he laughs, grinning fondly. “You were so awkward, so sweet. I didn’t know what it was back then, but, by late second year, when I made out with Caradoc, I realized that liking boys is an option. That’s when I knew I was a goner,” he explains, carding his fingers through Remus’ short curls. Remus, who is still crying. Remus, who is desperate for another kiss. Remus, who can’t believe that Sirius likes him back.
“Y-you… you liked me first?” Remus asks, vulnerable and nervous but full of adrenaline and hope. Sirius is so close, close enough that Remus could pull him in and kiss him in less than a second.
“Of course,” Sirius says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Remus doesn’t understand why he’s talking like the poor, shy, disabled, transgender, lycanthrope is the catch between the two of them. “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s never been afraid of me for being from the House of Black. When James heard my name, he made a joke about it, about my family. When Peter did, he was fucking terrified. You, though; you just asked where my first name came from and looked so intrigued when I started talking about the stars. Everyone else I’ve ever met has been worried about my last name, but not you. You were interested in me, not my family. How could I not fall for you?”
Remus sobs. He can’t reply. Instead, he tangles his fingers in Sirius’ long hair and pulls him down until they’re kissing again, desperate and overwhelmed and emotional. Sirius goes obediently, sliding his arms around Remus’ waist, tilting his head to the side so their lips slide against each other with much more ease. If Remus was paying any more attention, he would memorize the way Sirius moves his head, his lips, his tongue. When did Sirius’ tongue get involved? Remus can’t remember. All he knows is that it’s there and he’s doing something really nice with it.
Sirius is holding him so tightly, just like how he wants. Remus wraps his legs around Sirius’ hips, pulls him as close as possible. The kiss is wet and salty due to tears, but it’s perfect.
Sirius pulls away first, far too quickly, and Remus whines at the loss. Sirius fixes it, though, then ducks again to press his lips against his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, every inch of his face is being peppered with kisses. Eventually, after a quick peck misses its intended target and lands on his eyelid, Remus starts giggling despite himself. Their chests are pressed together and Sirius can probably feel his breasts; he’s in short sleeves and his shirt is riding up, so many of his scars are in full view, including the bite on his hip; and there’s snot and tears on his face, hair a tangled mess, but he doesn’t care. Sirius is kissing him, which means everything is okay. If Sirius is willing to kiss him, then that means he’s more than enough.
“Oh, Sirius,” Remus laughs wetly, cupping Sirius’ cheeks and pulling him until he can press a kiss to his lips. “You’re my favourite,” he sniffles, smiling.
“You’re mine, too,” Sirius replies easily, closing the gap once again to kiss him. He rolls onto his back, securing his arms around Remus’ waist and settling him atop his body. The warmth under him is comforting, the arms around him safe, the lips on his loving. Remus lifts himself up, gasping for breath, cheeks burning. Sirius grins. “Want to be my boyfriend, Moony?” he asks. Remus’ heart skips a beat.
“Yes,” he says quickly, licking his lips nervously. “Yes, please. I’d— I’d like that a lot,” he nods, swallowing hard.
“Alright then,” Sirius nods in return. “I’d like that, too. I suppose that makes us boyfriends,” he says, giving Remus’ hips a comforting squeeze. “Would you mind if I took you on a date next Hogsmeade weekend? That’s what boyfriends do, right?” this is to be too good to be true, but fuck it. Sirius’ eyes are genuine and Remus doubts that anyone, even the boy under him, could pretend this well.
“Yeah, sure,” he says breathily. “Could I take you on a date on the one after that?” Remus asks, hopeful. He can’t afford to go out to a restaurant or any of the fancy things Sirius can, but he can take his best friend— his boyfriend out for a walk, maybe a picnic, he could probably manage to go to a café if he saves up. Sirius is worth that effort and more.
“Of course, Chéri,” Sirius smiles warmly, then bites his lip, looking bashful. “Stay with me tonight?”
“I’d like that,” Remus whispers.
That night, nestled on Sirius’ chest, Remus sleeps better than he ever has.