Archive of Our Own

Day 1

Remus arrives later than planned.

He’s not disastrously late, just late enough that the afternoon has started to creep towards the dusk, the sun slipping lower behind a thin veil of cloud. The road narrows as he approaches the estate, hedges rising on either side until he finally turns into a sweeping drive lined with chestnut trees. 

From there, it must be at least half a mile until the manor itself comes into view but when he does Remus feels like he’s gone back in time; that, or he’s just arrived at the set of a film. The house is bigger than he expected, its stone walls the colour of old bone, tall windows with even glass catching the low light in a way that distorts it faintly. It’s set back from the large, gravel drive, framed by lawns that seem to have been kept just short of wildness. Everything looks cared for, but everything looks tired. 

Remus cuts the engine and the sudden quiet is startling. He stays where he is for a moment, hands resting loosely in his lap, listening to the tick of the cooling metal and the distant sound of wind moving through trees. It’s beautiful here, he thinks as he steps out of the car and collects his bags from the boot, hoisting the strap of his workbag up onto his shoulder. He can smell damp earth and old leaves. It’s nostalgic almost, but Remus isn’t sure what for. Somewhere, something creaks, a branch shifting or perhaps a hinge disturbed by the breeze. 

Remus closes the boot and turns to look at the house. He’s worked in old places before; estates, archives, libraries but none of them have felt like this. He takes a breath and starts towards the large, oak doors, eyes already moving, taking it all in. 

There’s no knocker or bell and Remus knows there is no point in knocking, unless someone was standing behind the door there is no way it would be heard, so he drops his case and pushes one of the doors. It opens with a squeak - the hinges need oiling - and he steps into the entrance hall. 

The air inside is cooler here, the ceiling rising high above him and his footsteps echo just a second longer than expected. Light filters in through the tall windows which are dressed in heavy curtains, the scarlet fabric faded by the sun and Remus can see the dust motes drift lazily in the shafts of sunlight. 

“Hello?” he calls out and pauses, listening. Nothing. He calls out again and then looks around properly. The hall is sparsely furnished and Remus makes his way over to a table against one wall, looking at himself in the gilded mirror hanging above it, the gold flaking away at the edges and then straightens the vase that’s sitting on the table top so it’s centred. His fingers come away covered in dust and he wipes them on his trousers.  

“Hello?”

There are several doors off the hall but no-one appears. Remus wanders around, mindful not to intrude but allowing himself to do a quiet inventory; the subtle sag of a beam overhead, the faint scent of disinfectant drifting from somewhere deeper in the house, the way the floorboards dip slightly near the doorways, the fact that he seems to have gone back in time. 

He’s to be here for a month, a whole twenty-eight days although the thought doesn’t bring dread, if anything Remus feels a sudden surge of excitement and a sense of purpose. There is clearly work to be done here. Remus can already tell that somewhere beyond the hall, down a corridor or up a staircase there’s a room calling his name with the unmistakable smell of old books, dry paper, leather and the ghost of ink. 

The library. 

Remus feels the familiar pull of it, the itch that drew him into this line of work in the first place, but he forces himself to stop, aware that he can’t just go looking, and instead he returns to the middle of the entrance hall.

“Hello?” he shouts upward and this time there’s a sound, a soft thud of a door shutting somewhere deeper in the house, followed by footsteps, the sound of them reaching Remus before the sight of anyone. He takes a moment to straighten up and clean his glasses on his sleeve, to make sure he looks presentable for what he is sure to be a formal introduction with the Lord of the-

The man who appears at the far end of the hall looks like he’s walked in from a different world. 

He’s carrying a reusable coffee cup, the lid askew, a faint line of condensation forming where his thumb rests. He’s dressed in a black cut off t-shirt and jeans, his long hair messy and out of place, as though he ran a hand through it on his way and forgot to fix it afterwards. He stops short when he sees Remus, the coffee sloshing dangerously over the rim of his cup and dripping onto the flagstones. 

“Hi,” he says slightly breathlessly, “You must be Remus.” He grimaces immediately. “I’m sorry, I’ve only just got here myself. The traffic in town was so bad and then I couldn’t find my keys, which is ridiculous because it’s not like I ever lock the doors here anyway. Oh, and I stopped for coffee.”

He lifts the coffee cup a little as if it might serve as an explanation and Remus blinks, recalibrating. This is not the man he had prepared for. 

“Umm, yes,” he says, snapping into action and stepping forward, offering his hand. “Remus Lupin. I’m here to restore and catalogue your library.”

“Yeh, of course, the library,” the man repeats, a look Remus can’t read flickering across his face. “Good. That’s- yeh.” He takes Remus’ hand with a warm grip and then seems to realise that he hasn’t introduced himself at all. “I’m Sirius. Sirius Black.”

He releases Remus’ hand and glances round the hall, frowning faintly. “I hope you didn’t think I was ignoring you. You were very welcome to just make yourself at home, just sort of settle in. Or not. Whatever you want, really.” 

Sirius shrugs and the words sound almost self-deprecating, although Remus can hear the edge of sincerity beneath them. He shifts his weight, the coffee cup now cradled in both hands. He looks awkward. 

Remus offers a polite smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve only just arrived, Mr. Black.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Please don’t,” Sirius says, wincing. “Call me Sirius. If you call me that I’ll start feeling like I should be bossing you around or something. Or I’ll start slinging slurs around like my dad and we’ll both be uncomfortable.”

Remus feels a bemused smile tip the corner of his mouth. “Okay. I can call you Sirius, not a problem.”

Something in Sirius’ expression eases and he smiles. “Thank you.”

There’s a brief silence, and they both smile awkwardly at one another.

“I didn’t really know what to expect when I booked you,” Sirius admits after a moment. “I mean- you, not the work. You’re…” he stops and cocks his head to one side. “You’re much younger than I thought you would be.”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “Likewise.”

That draws a grin, quick and sharp. “Fair.” Sirius gestures vaguely around the hall. “Sorry. Weird introduction to all of this. I forget how much this place can throw people off, I should have emailed with more details or something.”

“It’s a beautiful house,” Remus says carefully. “Everything seems very well… preserved,” he settles on and Sirius snorts. 

“That’s one way of putting it.”

He takes a sip of his coffee. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Water? I’ve got Coke Zero, and I mean there’s shitloads of expensive booze squirreled away in the kitchens or the scullery or the cellar or, well, it’s everywhere, actually.”

“Do you have anything of a 1974 vintage?”

Sirius nods, rocking slightly on his heels and then his head snaps up as Remus’ words register. For a moment he looks unsure and then he laughs. It echoes through the hall and the sound makes Remus smile. 

“If you find anything, be my guest and I’m not even joking. I’d help you look but I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He gives a final chuckle, “I’ve not been here that long and everything seems to be all over the place. It’s-” he pauses and gestures helplessly. “I don’t know, it’s all a bit of a mess really.”

“That’s ok,” Remus says. “If you like, perhaps you could show me around? I’d like to see.”

Sirius’ face brightens again. “Yes. Absolutely. I can do that. I know where most things are, more or less anyway.” He takes a step towards the corridor he appeared from. “Leave your stuff, we can grab it later and it’ll be fine there. It’s not like anyone is going to nick it.” He looks expectantly at Remus. “Ready?”

And Remus nods, following as Sirius turns and leads the way deeper into the house. 

—-------

Sirius gives him a tour that almost leaves Remus out of breath. They move through the corridors and rooms without stopping for long - a drawing room that smells faintly of old upholstery and lemon polish, a formal dining room with a table large enough to seat a frankly unnecessary number of people, a narrow staircase that creaks in a way that Remus find a bit spooky but doesn’t seem to phase Sirius at all, and all the while he throws his hands up, gesturing at things and offering vague explanations. 

“That used to be… something,” he says at one point, waving a hand toward a closed door. “I can’t actually remember. Maybe some sort of shrine room. I wasn’t allowed in there.” 

“Those stairs go up to the nursery but I'd rather throw myself over the balcony on the second floor than go up there so if you want to have a look you’ll have to take yourself up later.”

“These are all bedrooms. You’re welcome to have one of these rooms if you want but you’ll probably have to dust. I’m over by the kitchens instead. I prefer it.”

Remus just hums, noncommittal, absorbing his surroundings. He takes note of where the sun falls most generously, which rooms feel warmest, which corridors funnel sound, and all the while Sirius keeps glancing back at him, as if checking whether he’s doing a good job as tour guide.

Eventually, they reach a small study off one of the first floor corridors. It’s nothing grand, a desk, a chair, a large paned window that overlooks the grounds. 

“Erm, this is where I thought you could set up,” Sirius says, hesitating over the phrasing. “I figured you’d need a base and it’s cold in the, uh, library.”

Remus understands what he means immediately. “It’s perfect,” he says, and he means it. 

Sirius looks faintly relieved. “So,” he looks back out into the corridor, towards the one part of the house that Remus hasn’t yet seen. “Do you want to see the library?”

Remus looks up and meets Sirius’ gaze. The sun is dipping lower now, painting the walls in amber and shadow. Sirius looks back at him, uncertainty flickering across his face.

“That would be great,” he says and Sirius nods leading the way out the room and down a corridor that narrows as it goes, the ceilings lowering just enough to change the acoustics. Their footsteps soften, absorbed by carpet worn thin along its centre. The air seems to grow cooler, tinged with something familiar and dry that makes Remus’ chest tighten in anticipation. 

Paper. Leather. Dust.

Sirius stops at the end of the corridor, one hand resting against a large door. 

“Here,” he says, quieter than before as he pushes and the door opens easily, the hinges of this door have obviously been oiled recently, and the room unfolds before them. 

The library is large, larger than even Remus was expecting. Shelves climb from floor to ceiling, dark oak and green leather bindings. A ladder rests along one side, its rungs worn. Tall windows let in the last of the late-afternoon light that cuts across a long table, scattered with uneven stacks of books and papers, old pens and pencils. 

Remus stands at the threshold, eyes moving instinctively, taking everything in. Several of the shelves sag under too much weight and he can smell the faint bloom of mould along the edges of leather spines. He can already see that several large volumes have been shelved incorrectly, their bindings straining, and the floor is littered with loose pages. 

Thank goodness he’s got a month because, when all is said and done, this library needs some attention. 

Sirius must sense what he’s thinking, watching him from the corner of his eyes, as though bracing for a verdict. “It’s a lot,” he says unnecessarily. “I know. I didn’t realise how bad it had got- I haven’t been back for-” he trails off. “Well, It’s far worse than when I left.”

“It’s alright,” Remus says, and he means it as he steps fully into the room. The floorboards creak beneath his feet, the sound quickly lost to the space. He runs a hand along the edge of the table, fingertips grazing dust, and resists the urge to wipe it away immediately. 

“This is great,” he says after a moment. “It’s just what I was after.”

Sirius visibly exhales. “I was worried you’d walk in and decide it was impossible,” he admits. “Or tell me it’s not worth saving.”

Remus turns to him. “Old libraries are rarely tidy,” he says carefully. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth saving.” He carries on exploring, mapping the room as he goes. It’s almost like a ritual; it steadies him. Outside, the light is shifting again, sliding lower, gilding the edges of window frames.

Sirius hovers, leaning against the doorframe rather than standing in the room, arms crossed loosely, his now empty coffee cup forgotten on a nearby shelf. He watches Remus curiously, stepping back when Remus moves closer, as though unsure of the boundaries. 

“I haven’t had many people here,” he says eventually, as though he feels he needs to explain himself. “Contractors I mean. A few have come and done bits and pieces but they’ve just come, done their thing, and left. You’re-” he stops, frowns and then tries again. “You’re staying. It’s just a bit different.”

Remus smiles faintly. “Well I promise not to redecorate without permission.”

This earns him a faint laugh. “I just don’t want to get in your way.”

Remus glances at him. “It’s your house.”

Sirius just shrugs and doesn’t say anything else

“Do you mind if I stay in here for a bit?” Remus asks after a moment, desperate to stand pulling things off shelves. 

Sirius nods. “Of course. I’ll leave you be then.” He takes a step back toward the door. “I don’t want to get in your-”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Remus interrupts him simply. “If you’d like. I like company.”

Sirius shifts, clearly surprised by the invitation. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” 

He stays, then, although he never quite settles. He wanders the room, peering at the shelves, sits on the table, lining up the stationary before messing it up again. He doesn’t say much, just lets Remus explore - at one point he disappears entirely, returning ten minutes later with two mugs and a teapot balanced precariously between them. 

“I thought you might want some,” he says, setting them down on the table. “Tea. If you want.”

“Oh that’s perfect, thank you,” Remus says smiling at him and he hops up onto the table too. 

They drink in companionable silence, the house creaking around them. Remus thinks he hears footsteps from somewhere but he’s not sure. He hasn’t asked if there’s anyone else here and Sirius doesn’t offer any explanation. 

“I should probably go and get my stuff,” Remus says, draining his second cup and Sirius takes it from him, their fingers brushing lightly. 

“Sure,” he jumps down. “Any thoughts on what sort of room you’d like?”

Remus inclines his head slightly. “I hear near the kitchens is the place to be if there’s anything going spare over that way?”

Sirius grins back at him. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Day 2

Remus dresses quickly the following morning. He pulls his jumper on over his shirt and then makes his way back through the house, stopping in what Sirius pointed out as the kitchen and fixing himself some tea and toast.

The corridors are cooler now that it’s morning and the house feels different; less imposing almost. He pushes open the library door which opens with an easy creak and he stands, allowing himself a small moment to take it in. The air is dry and the smell of paper is even more pronounced than it was last night.  The sun spills in through the tall windows at an angle that catches the dust in suspension, turning the air itself golden. It really is a beautiful space, just lost for love. 

Once in, Remus sets his bag down carefully and rolls up his sleeves before he starts setting up methodically. He clears a space on the long table and lays out his gloves, opens his note book and sharpens his pencil, collecting the shaving scraps in the palm of one hand and leaving them in a neat pile to be cleaned up later. Then he moves to the windows, not to open them - the humidity would be all wrong - but he adjusts the curtains, letting in as much light as he safely can, taking notes of how the sun moves across the room at this hour, where it pools warmly and where it leaves the shelves in shadow. He notes it all down. 

The first order of business today is an inventory, not a full catalogue yet, just a mental one. Which shelves sag the most, which spines show active mold, which papers are at risk of damp. He makes notes in his book as he goes, neat and precise, and has to resist the urge to start fixing things immediately.

It takes him most of the morning and he is halfway through assessing the condition of a stack of ledgers when he hears movement in the doorway. He turns and finds Sirius standing just inside the room, hands shoved into the pockets of a faded hoodie, hair damp as though he’d come straight from the shower. 

“How’re you getting on?” he asks, taking in the notebook in Remus’ hands. He sounds faintly impressed and faintly sheepish. “Sorry, I've only just woken up.”

Remus smiles, pleased to see him. “That’s ok. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in?”

“No, no - yeah. Of course not.” he gestures vaguely at the room. “That’s why you’re here isn’t it? I just didn’t expect-” he pauses and then grins. “I actually don’t know where I was going with that.” 

Remus shrugs. “You’re good. I’ve got loads done this morning so I’m pleased.”

“Right,” Sirius watched him for a moment, something thoughtful flickering across his face. “Well that’s good!” He steps further into the room, stopping short of the table as though unsure where he’s allowed to stand. 

Remus notices the hesitation and finds it oddly endearing. 

“I err-” Sirius starts. “I wasn’t sure if I, like, needed to stay with you or if I should just leave you to it?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Remus says easily. “If you want to stay you can but don’t feel like you’re obliged to or anything.”

Sirius snorts. “Obligation’s sort of this place’s whole thing.”

Remus huffs a quiet laugh, not really understanding but Sirius is smiling so it seems like the right thing to do. He turns back to his notes and they don’t speak for a few minutes as Remus continues his assessment, jotting things down and lifting a few books just enough to check their condition. 

Sirius wanders with him, peering at the shelves, running his fingers down the spines, trying to make out titles. Occasionally, they make eye contact, Sirius glancing at Remus as if checking he’s still okay to be there. 

“There’s so much in here,” Sirius says eventually, sounding a little frustrated. “I don’t know what I'm going to do with it all after you’ve finished.”

“There is,” Remus agrees. “But it’s manageable. I can help you figure it out too, afterwards, if you want me to.”

Sirius looks at him again and something in his posture eases. “Good,” he says. “Yes please.”

—-------

It’s approximately seven minutes after Remus has lectured Sirius on the importance of not touching things yet before he touches something he shouldn't.

It’s not deliberate, Remus can tell that immediately. Sirius had nodded earnestly, listening as Remus explained, in broad terms, the timeline for how Remus’ work will progress: assessment, stabilisation, intervention, restoration. 

“So you basically need to check everything first?”

“Yes.”

“And then you can start moving things around?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Sirius says thoughtfully. “I’ll try to remember that.”

But he doesn’t. 

There’s a book on the table, its leather spine cracked but intact, the pages inside fragile with age. Remus has just finished explaining why it needs to rest flat for a few hours before anything else is done to it, to let the fibres relax back into shape. 

Sirius reaches out and lifts it. 

“Careful,” Remus says at once. 

Sirius freezes mid-motion, eyes widening slightly, clearly only just registered what he’s doing. “Oh. Shit. Sorry.”

He lowers the book immediately but not before the spine bends at a precarious angle. 

Remus winces on behalf of the book and steps forward, placing his hands over Sirius’ and guiding the book back down properly. 

“Like this,” he says lightly rather than reproachfully. “You want to support it here.” Remus demonstrates, supporting the book from beneath, easing it open just enough to surreptitiously inspect the bindings.

Sirius watched intently. “Right, okay. That makes sense.”

Remus straightens, withdrawing his hands. “It’s not that you can’t touch things,” he says. “I mean all of this is literally yours. I just-” he tries to find the words. “I’m a bit funny about things,” he settles on.

Sirius grins, unapologetic. “So you’re stubborn?”

“Very,” Remus agrees with a laugh. “But I mean if you want to throw all the books on the floor I can’t exactly stop you.”

“But you would cry?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“And write about me in your notebook?”

“Definitely.”

Sirius grins again and then turns his attention back to the book, this time with his hands firmly behind his back. “How do you know?” he asks. “I mean- how do you know what the books will… tolerate? Is that the right word?”

Remus considers the questions as he returns to his notes. “Experience, I suppose,” he says. “I’ve been doing this for eleven years.”

Sirius blinks. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

“I’m twenty seven.” A sly smirk crosses Sirius’ face. “When I booked you I thought you’d be a seventy year old man wearing weird old-man clothes. I was right about one thing.”

“Haha,” Remus says deadpan, but he struggles to hide his smile. “Try this jumper on and you’ll never look back. The most comfortable thing ever.”

Sirius laughs. “Remind me to do that at some point.”

—------

They move on from there and Sirius stays. Remus explains as he works, just narrating what he’s doing because Sirius seems genuinely interested. He tells him about humidity and pressure, about why some damage is considered cosmetic rather than structural, about how home repairs can sometimes do more harm than good. 

“So these,” Sirius says, pointing at a large cluster of loose papers that Remus had retrieved from between two encyclopedias and had carefully weighted down. “We need to leave these for a bit before we can do anything with them?”

“Yes,” Remus replies. “They need to stabilize first.”

“And if I just hole punched them and whacked them in a folder?”

“They’d disintegrate,” Remus says simply.

Sirius nods, solemn. “And we don’t want that.”

“No,” Remus agrees. “We don’t.”

Sirius crouches to peer at the lower shelves, careful to keep his hands to himself. “Is it all salvageable?” 

Remus pauses, realising that Sirius is asking about the library as a whole. “Most of it,” he says. “There might be some things that need intervention beyond what I can do here and, if you decide to, those pieces can be sent away. But from what I can see nothing is beyond saving. Yet, anyway.”

Sirius lets out a slow breath. “I don’t even know why I care,” he admits.

Remus glances at him, catching the weight behind the words but Sirius is already straightening up, brushing dust from his jeans and moving back towards the table.

“Are you going to stop for lunch? I can come back and help again after.”

—-------

Sirius does not help. 

This becomes apparent to Remus mid-way through the afternoon. He realises it’s not because Sirius is deliberately avoiding the work but because he seems to have intuited his role, for now, is to simply be there. 

He drifts; perches briefly on the edge of the long table, then thinks better of it and slides off again, pulls a chair out, sits, stands, moves it an inch closer to the window where the light is better, then leaves it there unused. He wanders the shelves, reading the titles aloud under his breath and occasionally glancing at Remus with a smile. 

Remus doesn’t mind. He works around him easily, shifting position without breaking concentration when Sirius crosses the room. He adjusts his layout when Sirius finally settles into a chair too close to a stack of fragile papers. And then, just like yesterday, at some point Sirius disappears. 

Remus doesn’t notice immediately. He’s bent over the table, annotating a list of volumes that will need re-shelving when he realises that Sirius is gone. He’s just wondering how long he’s been missing for when he reappears, once again balancing two mugs and a (different, Remus notes) teapot, this time on a tray. 

“Found a tray,” Sirius announces, setting it down on a clear patch of table. 

“And a different teapot,” Remus says, pulling off his gloves, delighted to have a tea break. 

Sirius just hums and pours, the steam curling between them and adds a dash of milk to a cup that he passes to Remus. 

They sit for a while, Remus going through his notes in between sips, Sirius leaning back in his chair, one ankle hooked casually over the other. Just like the day before the light has shifted, edging toward evening proper.

He sees Sirius check his watch out of the corner of his eyes and then stand. 

“I’m going to leave you to it,” he says, gathering up the milk jug and Remus’ cup. “I’ve got a call at 5ish that I don’t want to have but can’t really miss.”

Remus inclines his head and doesn’t ask questions. “No worries.”

Sirius hesitates, then adds. “I’ll be back after though and we can have dinner? Might have to be take away though, I really need to do a food shop.”

“That sounds perfect,” Remus says honestly. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll finish up here.”

Day 3

Sirius meets him in the kitchen the next morning. Remus has just filled the ancient kettle and put it on the hob - it’s not electric, which blows Remus’ mind - when he wanders in. His hair is damp again and he’s dressed just like he was yesterday, just a different hoodie. 

“Morning,” he says, skirting around Remus to pull open the fridge. “I’m going to do bacon sandwiches if you want?”

“Sounds good,” Remus says, fetching another mug for Sirius. “Is there any brown sauce?”

—-------

Once they’ve finished their breakfast, they head for the library. 

“It already looks different,” Sirius says, surveying the room as they enter. “I didn’t realise how busy you’d been yesterday.”

He’s right, Remus thinks. The difference isn’t dramatic but it is visible. Stacks have been redistributed, some of the most fragile volumes moved aside to rest properly, loose papers have been gathered and weighted and the central table looks far more ordered than when Remus arrived. Remus hums his agreement, heading for his notebook and inspecting his gloves to make sure they’ll do another day. 

And he gets to work. Today Sirius watches him for a moment and then drags a chair, kicking his feet up onto the table and pulls out his phone. They say very little for the next hour, Remus working away and Sirius watching a series that Remus recognises the theme music to on his phone.

Eventually Remus brings a book over to the table and Sirius puts the phone face up in his lap. 

“That one,” he says, pointing at the book. “That’s the one from yesterday that you said had loose pages, right?”

Remus glances at him, faintly impressed. “It is.”

“I remember,” Sirius says, a touch defensive. “I do listen.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Remus says plainly and Sirius pouts slightly before picking up his phone again. 

Another easy silence follows after that. Sirius taps his fingers of one hand lightly on the arm of the chair and at one point Remus pauses to stretch. Sirius takes that as an opportunity to stand and peer over his shoulder. 

“Can I have a look?” he asks, looking at the notebook in Remus’ hand.

Remus turns, surprised to find him on his feet. “Sure,” he says. “I’m not sure you’ll understand anything though.”

He hands Sirius the book and he reads quietly, lips moving as he deciphers Remus’ shorthand. 

“This is like a secret language,” he says, turning the book round in his hands. “Do you get taught this at book… school?”

Remus looks at him for a fraction of a second and bursts out laughing. “Book school?” he asks and watches as Sirius crosses his arms defensively. 

“Well I don't know what it’s called!”

“Conservation,” Remus says, still laughing. “But I did a degree first, in history and material studies.”

“What the hell is material studies?”

“Looking at paper chemistry, binding structures, ink and things. How books are actually made.”

Sirius raises a brow. “Not going to lie, Remus, that sounds so boring.”

“Hey!” Remus pretends to look put out. “It’s not! Do you know how to mix an adhesive that can be reversed a hundred years from now?”

“I do not.”

“Well I do. I found it interesting. That’s what I did my postgrad in.”

“And that’s when you learnt to do-” he flaps his arm at the library in general, “Your job?”

Remus’ mouth quirks. “No. After university I got an apprenticeship. It’s a learn on the job, job.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Sirius looks back at the page, his fingers hovering just above the margin. “So this handwriting horror show is…?”

“Field shorthand.”

“Fascinating.”

“Oh shut up,” Remus says with another laugh. “Gimme my book back.”

Sirius laughs too and then throws Remus a wink. “I can’t wait to learn more about book school,” he says, poking his tongue out, “But I’ve actually got to go out for a bit.” His face screws up a bit which makes Remus think this might not be something he’s looking forward to.

“That’s okay,” he says lightly. “Will you be here for dinner?”

“I better bloody be,” Sirius says as he picks up his phone and slips it into his back pocket. “I was going to make a chili.”

Day 4

“You know,” Sirius says mid-afternoon, “I lived here on and off for twenty years and I don’t think I ever noticed how tall these shelves actually are.”

Remus follows his gaze upwards, to the higher shelves that he hasn’t yet paid too much attention to. They’re pretty tall. “Mmm,” he hums, “I suppose it’s different when you’re looking at them instead of past them.”

Sirius lets out an amused huff, eyes snapping to Remus. “That might be the most accurate thing anyone’s ever said about this house.” He tips his head back up again and stretches, hands lifting over his head before he seems to remember himself and lets them fall back down. “Do you want tea?”

Remus nods. “Yes please,” and as Sirius disappears back out into the hallway he wonders what he meant. He’s picked up snippets of what might be going on in Sirius’ life in the few days he’s been here, but other than that Sirius is a closed book. The conversations they’ve had over meals always light and surface level. 

He supposes it’s none of his business. At the end of the day, Sirius is currently his employer and he considers that briefly before getting back to work. He’s had a pretty productive day; more notes accumulating in neat columns, decisions made and set aside for later. 

He’s bent over a folio, attention narrowed to the careful examination of a cracked hinge when he hears footsteps cross the threshold, signalling Sirius’ return and then, after a few moments, a mug appears at the edge of his vision, set down gently beside his elbow. Steam curls upwards, carrying the familiar scent of Earl Grey. 

“Oh!” Remus smiles. “You got some Earl Grey!” They’d talked about tea last night; Remus telling Sirius his favourite is Earl Grey, Sirius claiming his is Lapsang Souchong, which Remus still maintains must be a lie. 

“I did,” Sirius says, busying himself with his own cup. Remus thinks he might be blushing.

Remus picks up his cup and moves to sit at the table. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Sirius agrees, finally looking up so Remus can see that yes, there is a faint pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks. “But I thought you might like some so I got some when I was out this morning.”

Remus blinks, momentarily wrong-footed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sirius says and then picks up the book he’d left on the table earlier and opens it, starting to read. 

Remus returns his attention to the folio, though the corner of his mouth tilts upwards despite himself as he takes a careful sip and he thinks about how the tea is exactly how he takes it - strong and a little too hot to drink straight away. 

Day 5

Remus wakes before his alarm and allows himself to just lie in bed. The house seems quieter this morning and as he traipses barefoot along to the kitchen the corridors feel cool beneath his feet. The sounds the house makes seem more familiar now, the settling groan of the old pipes, the occasional click of wood contracting as night fades away. He makes tea and butters toast, leaving the bits and pieces out for Sirius to follow suit, and then carries his mug with him to the library, careful to not slosh it on the stairs.

“Morning.”

“Oh!” Remus startles to find Sirius already seated at the table, one leg tucked beneath the other, a mug already in hand. “Morning.”

Sirius gestures with his mug. “I made you tea, so now you have two.”

Remus glances at the table to find another mug there, steam still rising. “Thank you,” he smiles. “I will absolutely get through both.”

They don’t talk about much else and Remus rolls up his sleeves to get on. Sirius has his laptop with him today and he’s half-watching-half working on something, the volume low enough that it doesn’t distract. It’s easy enough to work around him.

Sometimes Remus feels like Sirius might be watching so he explains what he’s doing; why he’s starting with one shelf and not another or why he’s paused before moving a particular book. Sirius listens with an earnest attentiveness that Remus thinks would be hard to fake. He responds too, although what he says is usually inconsequential, occasionally funny. 

Just before midday Remus’ stomach rumbles and he stops, stretching out his back and it’s then that he catches Sirius watching him in his peripheral vision. He’s on his feet, half-way to putting his jacket on and looking with mild amusement. 

Remus cocks his head. “You alright there?”

“Ye-p,” Sirius says easily. “Was just admiring your cardigan.”

“Fuck you,” Remus says, good naturedly and then laughs when Sirius sticks his tongue out at him. 

“You’ve been very busy this morning,” he gestures vaguely at the pile of books Remus had placed on the table just five minutes before. “ And quiet. You’ve been doing that thing with your thumb a lot.”

Remus stills and realises that he’s running the pad of his thumb over his top lip, worrying at the cracked skin. It’s something he knows he does but he’s never quite conscious of it. He drops his hand down, faintly embarrassed. 

Sirius smiles. “It’s cute. You get this really serious look on your face when you’re doing it.”

Remus doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he sticks his tongue out too and they both huff a laugh.

“I’m heading out for a couple of hours,” Sirius says, as he slides his other arm into his jacket. “Help yourself to whatever for lunch.”

“Thank you,” Remus replies, wondering if they’re at the stage where he could ask where Sirius is going. He decides not to.

“Do you want me to bring you back a fun coffee or anything?”

“A fun coffee?”

“Yeh,” Sirius checks his phone and puts it into his pocket. “The café I sometimes go to in town does this really amazing lavender latte with this weird creamy foam thing on the top. It’s so good.”

“Erm- yeh. Yes, all right. That would be great.” Remus replies. 

Sirius continues to look at him. “Welllll…” he pauses a moment. “What do you want?”

“Oh!” Remus feels a little off kilter all of a sudden. “Umm, the lavender thing sounds good?”

Sirius looks at him. “Does it?”

“Yes.”

“All right.” Sirius takes a couple of steps forward so he can collect up their mugs from earlier. “One lavender thing for Remus.” Then he adds. “I’ll be back later.”

Remus hums in acknowledgement and the door closes softly behind Sirius and it’s only a little while later, as Remus makes himself a cheese and pickle toasted sandwich alone in the kitchen that that’s the first time he’s heard Sirius say his name. 

Day 6

Remus is halfway through noting a sequence of shelf numbers when Sirius appears in the doorway, keys in hand, coat already on. 

“I’m starving,” he announces. “Can we do take away for dinner?”

Remus looks up, startled by the fact that it seems to already be dinner time. He glances at the clock and blinks. 

“Yeh, sure,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t even realise it was that late.”

Sirius grins. “I figured. I came in earlier and you didn’t notice, you were proper absorbed.” The keys jingle. “I was thinking about getting a curry. That good with you?”

“Yeh,” Remus says, “Sounds great. But let me get it this time. You got the last one.”

Sirius just waves him off. “Nah, it’s fine. I need to get out the house for a bit anyway.”

“I feel guilty,” Remus admits. 

“Why?” Sirius looks at him, genuinely bemused. 

“I err-” Remus isn’t sure what to say. “Because you’re technically my boss,” comes to mind or “I’ll feel like I’ll owe you.” Instead he just says, “I just do.”

“Well don’t,” Sirius lifts a hand to scratch an itch on his shoulder. “I wouldn't have offered if I didn’t want to. You can get the next one,” he adds, when Remus doesn’t say anything further. 

Remus nods. “Okay. Thank you.” He stands there a little awkwardly. “Do you want me to come with you or…?”

“You can, but I was going to take my bike.”

“Oh.” Remus isn’t sure what to make of that. The nearest town is at least half an hour away by car and it’s already nearing 8 o clock. “Erm, isn’t it a bit late to be going now?”

Sirius looks at him with an amused smile. “Motorbike, Remus.”

“Oh!”

“Yeh. So yeh, you can come if you want but you’ll have to hold on tight. I ride pretty fast”

“Yeh, I'd rather die,” Remus says honestly. 

Sirius laughs, loud and clear. “That’s what I thought.”

—-----

They eat in a small room that Sirius calls the snug; a windowless room down a small flight of stairs, two old sofas piled with cushions and an ancient tele in the corner. The food is good. Remus had let Sirius pick for him and he’s done a good job and there is far too much food for two people. They eat seated on one sofa, their knees almost touching, plates balanced carefully on laps as the television murmurs in the background.

Sirius eats quickly, his legs tucked under him and one ankle jiggling restlessly. At one point Remus reaches over before he can stop himself and press his palm to the top of his foot. 

Sirius stops moving immediately and his head turns to look at Remus, who quickly pulls back his hand. 

“You are jiggling my Dahl,” he says, not making eye contact and scooping another spoonful. Sirius huffs a laugh that sounds nervous and when Remus chances a glance at him a few moments later his cheeks are pink. 

“This is really good,” Remus says, five minutes later, to fill the silence.

“It is,” Sirius agrees. “I actually can make a pretty good curry.”

“Yeh?”

Sirius nods. “My err, sort of step-mum? I guess? Taught me. I’m not a bad cook actually. I can do all the stupid fancy ones. Confit duck and beef Wellington and such. I just don’t really do it much.”

“Why not?” Remus asks.

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know. Reminds me of someone telling me I'm doing it wrong.”

“Your step-mum?” Remus asks gently but Sirius shakes his head. 

“Oh no, she’s amazing. Just… other people.”

Remus gets the sense not to push so he files that away without comment. 

“I’m a terrible cook,” Remus says instead. “Like really, really bad.”

Sirius snorts and kicks at him lightly. “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

“Wanna bet?” Remus raises an eyebrow at him in challenge; he’s really not lying. He is completely useless in the kitchen. 

Sirius meets his eye for a second too long and then looks away. “Nah, I can see that honestly.”

Remus smiles. “Rude.” He pauses, and then: “Perhaps one evening while I’m here you could teach me something? To cook I mean. If you wanted?”

Sirius picks up the remote control and flicks between channels. When he speaks his voice is light but Remus thinks it might be careful too. “That’d be fun. What sort of thing?”

“Anything.” Remus replies honestly. “Your pick. Something that’s not too difficult though. Maybe pasta?”

“I like pasta,” Sirius says simply. “I’ll have a think.” He flicks through the channels for another couple of seconds and then settles on what looks like some sort of gardening programme.

They sit through most of the programme without speaking, the quiet punctuated only by the clink of cutlery and the occasional huff of laughter from Sirius when something on the screen amuses him.

And later on, when Remus is tucked up on bed he files away the fact that, as they sat and watched and ate together, Remus, who knows he’s one of the most awkward people on the planet, didn’t feel the urge to fill the silence once.

Day 7

“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” Sirius says, mid-afternoon, standing up and pulling on his jacket which he’d slung over the back of a chair when he arrived just before lunch. “Do you want to come?”

Remus hesitates for the briefest moment, surprised by the invitation and by how quickly he wants to say yes. He’s been working non-stop today, only pausing for a very quick lunch, and he realises that at the back of his head an ache is starting to form. The fresh air would probably do him some good, so he nods.

“Sure,” he puts down his notebook. “If you don’t mind?”

Sirius gives him a funny look, as if the idea of him minding is ridiculous. “Why would I mind?” he asks. “It was me who asked you if you wanted to come. You don’t have to if-”

“No, I do!” Remus interrupts, probably a little too quickly. “I need to go and get my coat though. It’s in my room,” he adds unnecessarily, and Sirius nods.

“I’ll come with you.”

—-------

They step outside into the late-afternoon air that feels colder than expected. The sky is overcast, light flattened into something grey and soft and the smell of damp leaves rises as they cross the gravel drive. Remus breathes it in and feels something in his shoulders ease, a tension that he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying.

The estate stretches out around them, lawns slipping into rougher patches, hedges trimmed with a half-hearted precision. It’s beautiful, in a tired way, just like the house. It’s not neglected exactly, just sort of holding on. It suits Sirius, Remus thinks, that he should own this place. 

Sirius walks ahead by half a step, hands shoved in his pockets and pointing things out as they go. 

“That used to be a fountain,” he says, nodding toward a mossy stone basin, half-choked with leaves. “Or it’s meant to be anyway. I’ve never actually seen it working, even when I was younger.”

Remus looks. “Do you think you might get it working again?”

Sirius glances back at it, already moved on. “Maybe,” he shrugs. “I don’t know if it would be worth it.”

They carry on, following a narrow path that curves along the edge of the lawns and into a stand of trees. The ground is softer here, wet underfoot and Sirius keeps talking. It’s the most animated Remus has seen him and Remus thinks it’s less a conversation and more Sirius thinking aloud. 

“I used to get sent out here when I was a kid,” he says. “But I didn’t mind it. It was better than some of the other punishments.”

Remus tilts his head slightly. “Punishments?”

Sirius shrugs. “If I was being ‘too much’ inside. Loud. Rude. Whatever. If they were too busy to deal with me properly it was easier to just send me out here.”

There’s no bitterness in his tone, just a flat sort of honesty. Remus doesn’t know what to say to that, so he lets the silence sit for a moment, the sound of their footsteps filling the gap. After a moment, Sirius adds, “It’s funny. I hated this place for so long that I didn’t even realise that’s what I was feeling. And now it’s mine.”

Remus can tell the last words feel unfamiliar in his mouth. He looked at him. “How did that happen?” he asks. 

Sirius exhales, a visible puff of breath in the cold. “My parents,” he says after a moment. “Were killed in a car accident in the South of France and then not long after that my uncle died of cancer. And it turns out he left everything to me.”

Remus waits, sensing more, and Sirius keeps walking, gaze fixed ahead. 

“The rest of the family were furious,” he says. “Not because they wanted the house, I don’t think anyone did, not really. They just wanted me not to have it. It should have gone to-” he stops abruptly with a little shake of his head. “Well, they wanted it to go to someone more appropriate.”

“Appropriate,” Remus repeats, dry. 

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Yeh. Exactly.”

They walk on. The trees thin slightly and the wind picks up , tugging at Sirius’ hair. He doesn’t bother to fix it. 

“I hadn’t spoken to him in years,” Sirius continues, quieter. “Not after I left. But he was… I don’t know, different? I guess, from the rest of them. Not good, exactly. Just different. And I think, maybe… maybe he understood what they were?”

He looks over at Remus with a wry smile. “Sorry, I'm probably not making any sense am I?”

Remus smiles back. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He’s not sure if it's the right thing to say but it’s the only thing that comes. 

Sirius carries on looking at him, and his expression changes briefly, more open. “Don’t be,” he says. “It’s not terrible or anything. It’s just messy. But thank you.”

They reach the edge of the woods and emerge into a clearing where the grass has grown long. The air feels sharper here, the wind cutting more cleanly across open space. Sirius stops and looks back towards the house in the distance, it’s grey stone softened by the light. 

“I don’t know what I'm doing with it,” he admits. “Half the time I don’t feel like I even belong here. I feel like I'm trespassing.”

Remus stops beside him, hands tucked into his sleeves. “You’re not,” he says simply.

Sirius’ gaze flicks to him, sceptical. “How do you know?”

Remus shrugs, watching the house. “Because it is yours,” he says. “And you’re trying to make it different.”

Sirius’ mouth quirks. “You’re just biased because I’m paying you to be here.”

“Yes,” Remus agrees with a grin. “But I’m still right.”

Sirius laughs, the sound bright and real and they start walking again, turning back towards the house. The path is narrower on the return and at one point Sirius shifts slightly to let Remus pass around a puddle and their hands brush. 

It’s nothing. A graze of knuckles, accidental and light. And it sends goosebumps scattering up Remus’ arm. They keep on walking. 

A few minutes later, Sirius says, as if continuing a different conversation entirely, “What about you?”

Remus blinks. “What about me?”

“Do you have a… house?” he asks, awkward suddenly. “Or do you just, like, live in a library somewhere secretly and on the bottom shelf?”

Remus snorts softly. “I have a flat,” he says. “Not very exciting. I’m not there very much though, I move around a lot for work.”

Sirius nods. “Do you like that?”

Remus considers. “I like being busy,” he says honestly. “And I like fixing things.”

Sirius glances sideways at him, something unreadable in his expression. “Yeh,” he says quietly. “I’ve noticed.”

They reach the back door and step inside, shaking off the cold, the warmth of the house closing in around them. Remus shrugs out of his coat and feels the contrast immediately - the faint sting in his cheeks, the warmth returning to his fingers. 

Sirius lingers in the doorway for a moment longer, as if reluctant to let the outside go. Then he looks at Remus and jerks his head toward the corridor. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll make tea. And I was thinking tonight I could show you how to make Carbonara.”

—-------

And that’s what they do. After cups of tea and hot showers they meet back in the kitchen.

“Right,” Sirius says, clapping his hands together once. “Carbonara. A real one. None of that cream crap.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Cream crap?”

“People put cream in carbonara,” Sirius says solemnly. “And it’s revolting.”

Remus huffs a laugh and leans back against the counter, content to just observe Sirius pottering around, pulling things out of cupboards. “I mean it, by the way,” he says, “I’m genuinely terrible at anything you’re about to ask me to do. You’re definitely going to regret offering.”

“We’ll see,” Sirius says lightly, now gathering things from the fridge. “Anyway, if you really fuck it up we can order pizza.”

He sets out the ingredients as he talks - eggs, cheese, pancetta, fresh pasta. “I did think about getting you to make the pasta too, but,” he looks over to grin at Remus, “Baby steps, hey?”

He ties his hair back with a band he pulls from his wrist. “Okay, you ready?”

“Ready,” Remus replies. 

“Good,” Sirius hands Remus a knife and gestures towards the pancetta. “Chop that into small pieces. The knife is pretty blunt so it’ll be pretty hard to lose a finger.”

Remus takes the knife cautiously. “That’s reassuring.”

Sirius hovers for a moment, watching he starts chopping and then steps back, clearly resisting the urge to interfere. Remus notices, amused. 

“Is this acceptable?” he asks, holding up a piece for inspection. 

Sirius squints. “A bit big. But I’ll allow it.”

“How gracious of you.”

As they work, they fall into an easy rhythm. Sirius talking, Remus listening, the sounds of cooking filling the spaces between words. Sirius explains things as they go but not in a patronising way. Remus thought he’d find being told what to do annoying but he doesn’t. 

“You have to get the heat just right,” Sirius says, lifting the pan off the hob for a moment. “If it’s too hot the pasta cooks too quickly and goes soggy. You want it to have a bit of a bite.”

Remus nods and turns, fiddling with the knob to turn the temperature down a bit. 

At one point, Sirius reaches past him to grab the salt and again their hands brush and Remus feels it again, a warmth that spreads through him. Sirius pauses too and then shifts slightly so they’re standing closer, probably more so than strictly necessary. Their shoulders are nearly touching as Sirius demonstrates how to mix the eggs and cheese together. 

“Here,” he passes the bowl to Remus. “You do it.”

“Do you promise not to judge my mixing skills?”

“Yes,” Sirius says. “I promise not to judge your mixing skills.”

“That’s a lie isn’t it?” Remus mutters, but he takes the bowl anyway, stirring carefully. 

Sirius watches, head tilted. “Ye of little faith, Remus.”

They continue to move around each other after that, easily trading places at the stove and when it comes time to combine everything, Sirius steps in close again, voice low as he talks Remus through it. 

“Okay, off the heat,” he says. “Add it slowly.”

Remus does as instructed, hands steady, Sirius’ presence solid at his back. For a moment, Sirius’ hand hovers near Remus’ wrist, close enough to guide if needed but he doesn’t touch. 

“Perfect,” he says quietly and Remus exhales, not realising he’d been holding his breath. 

They eat standing at the island in the kitchen, plates steaming between them. The carbonara is looking good - genuinely so - it smells rich and comforting and Remus’ mouth waters. He takes a bite and chews slowly. 

“Oh!”

Sirius grins. “Told you.”

“That is really good,” Remus says, twirling his fork for another mouthful. “Like I’m almost annoyed that it’s so good, good.”

Sirius laughs. “You’ll get over it.”

When they finish, Sirius gathers up the plates. “I’ll wash,” he says. “You cooked.”

“You helped,” Remus points out and watches Sirius for a moment. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Sirius beams at him. “Okay.”

So they stand side-by-side at the sink, shoulders brushing occasionally, passing plates back and forth. 

Outside, the light fades fully, night settling in. It’s just an ordinary evening. 

Day 8

Remus lies in bed and thinks about Sirius. Not in any way in particular; he just wakes early and that’s the first thing he thinks of. 

He’s noticed that Sirius takes a phone call every morning just before lunch, and that he paces before it. He’ll wander around the library restlessly, hands shoved into his pockets, circling the table, once, twice, sometimes crossing over to the window and back again. When his phone rings he doesn’t answer it straight away. He lets it buzz in his hand, jaw tightening slightly he gives Remus a quick wave and ducks out into the corridor. 

Remus never hears the calls themselves. Sirius always takes them elsewhere. 

He’s also noticed that there are large parts of the house that Sirius avoids entirely. That there are doors in the house that remain closed, corridors that they never seem to walk down together. Sirius navigates around them with an ease that suggests long practice, turning at the last moment. He never explains, so Remus doesn’t ask. 

They’ve got their routines now and Sirius seems genuinely interested in Remus’ progress. His gaze lingers when he realises a stack of papers has been moved or a new shelf emptied.

“You’ve done loads,” he says to Remus that afternoon, standing in the doorway having just gone to make tea. 

Remus turns and smiles to see him. “It’s getting there. It’s always way slower at the start and then I get properly into it.”

Sirius grins. “Bit like me.”

Remus doesn’t know what to do with that but doesn’t have too much time to think of it because Sirius adds, pointing:

“That shelf wasn’t like that yesterday when we left?”

Remus follows his finger. “Oh, no,” he feels his face getting hot. “I erm… I couldn't sleep because I was worried that it was bowing, so I got up.”

“In the night?”

“Yeh,” Remus admits and then smiles sheepishly. “Oh God, I’m a loser aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Sirius says without hesitation, setting a mug down for Remus. “But you’re cute when you blush, so it’s not all bad.”

Remus doesn’t know what to say to that either. “Oh shut up,” he mumbles, reaching for his mug. Sirius always puts his mug in the exact same place; slightly to the left of his notebooks, far enough from the papers that if it was knocked they’d be safe. 

Remus has noticed that too. 

Day 9

Remus is bent over the table, annotating a particularly stubborn section of notes, when he pauses mid-sentence. He looks up and glances toward the door before he can stop himself. He feels a flicker of something, anticipation perhaps, and then shakes it off, irritated with himself. 

A moment later, Sirius appears, slightly breathless, his hair more dishevelled than usual and red high on the apples of his cheeks. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Got up late and then had a longer shower than usual.”

“It’s fine,” Remus replies - because it is. Sirius doesn’t owe him any explanation. Sirius, however, looks visibly relieved, although Remus can’t help but think he’s not quite meeting his eye when he says:

“Did you have breakfast or-?”

“Yeh,” Remus goes back to his notes. “I made you toast but it'll be really soggy by now.”

Sirius throws himself into his usual chair. “I don’t mind.” He pulls the plate towards him. “I quite like soggy toast.”

Day 10

That evening they eat in the snug again. Sirius cooked - another simple pasta dish with sausage and a green salad - and Remus helped, mainly by fetching what Sirius told him to fetch. 

They arrange the cushions on the sofa, plumping them up to make them soft and Remus settles on one end, plate balanced on his knees. 

Sirius drops down beside him with far less carefulness and pauses for a moment before stretching out his legs and tucking his feet under Remus’ calves like he’s done it a million times before. 

Remus looks down, startled. The contact is warm and solid through fabric. When he looks at Sirius, Sirius is already looking back, mouth quirked. 

“You’ve got warm legs,” he says, unapologetic. “I can move if you want?”

“Don’t move,” Remus replies automatically, although he can feel his ears going hot. “I don’t mind.”

Sirius cocks his head to one side. “You sure? You’re doing the thumb thing.”

Remus stills, realising that he’s right, his hand has drifted toward his mouth again. He drops it, glaring at his own hand. “No I’m not.”

“Sure,” Sirius says, sly, and flexes his toes, nudging his feet gently against Remus’ calf. 

They eat, shoulders occasionally bumping, their attention divided between food and whatever Sirius has put on the tele. It’s something mindless and familiar, a reality show, people shouting cheerfully at each other. This time, Sirius doesn’t flick through the channels; he leaves the show on, leaning back, the sound filling the room while they pick at their dinner. 

Halfway through, Sirius shifts, feet still tucked under Remus and steals a piece of Remus’ garlic bread without asking. 

“Oi!” Remus protests, his mouth half-full. “You had your own!”

Sirius grins around his mouthful. “You weren’t eating it.”

“I was saving for the end!”

“Well that was stupid,” Sirius says, eyes bright and Remus laughs despite himself and leans over to stab at the last cherry tomato on Sirius’ plate.

“My tomato!”

Remus pops it into his mouth. “You weren’t eating it.”

“Humph,” Sirius pouts. “They were on the vine too.”

Remus snorts. “Yeh, that literally makes no difference to me. A cherry tomato is a cherry tomato.”

“Philistine,” Sirius sticks his tongue out and wiggles his feet so Remus’ legs wobble.

Remus reaches on instinct, grabbing Sirius’ ankles, fingers wrapping around warm fabric and gives a sharp tug. 

“Ah!” Sirius yelps as he slides forwards, already laughing as he tries to kick free. “Let go!”

“No,” Remus says, grinning uncontrollably as Sirius thrashes, his laughter loud and unrestrained. “You were kicking me.”

“I wasn’t kicking you! I was- ah- stop that tickles- I was-” Sirius tries to protest, giggles breaking his words apart as Remus digs his fingers into the meat of Sirius’ calves. “Stop! Stop!”

“You started it,” Remus says, laughing openly now, the sound surprising even himself. He gives Sirius’ ankles another little shake and Sirius shrieks, half-hysterical, half-breathless. 

“Remus, I swear to God-” he gasps, twisting sideways, his hair falling into his face. “If you don’t let me go i’m going to-”

“Going to what?” Remus asks, half standing to try and miss the onslaught of Sirius’ feet on his thighs. “Cry?”

“Yes!” Sirius says, voice high and bright and he finally manages to wrench one foot loose, kicking Remus hard in the thigh in the process

“Ow!” Remus laughs harder, loosening his grip without really meaning to and Sirius takes the opportunity to yank his other leg free and scramble upright, knocking into Remus and unseating them both.

They land in the pile half-on, half-off the sofa, both breathless and grinning, cheeks flushed. 

For a second neither of them looks away. Remus is still leaning forward, hands clasped around Sirius’ arms, Sirius almost fully on Remus’ lap, one knee tucked under himself, the other wrapped round Remus’ thigh. The laughter tapers off, the noise in the room dropping away until all that’s left is the low murmur of the tele and the sound of their laboured breathing. 

Remus lets go. He drops Sirius’ arms, hands retreating back to his own leg as Sirius untangles himself and retreats quickly but to his end of the sofa. 

“Sorry,” he says a little too quickly. “I umm- you okay?”

“Yeh,” Remus looks at him and then looks away quickly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

“Yeh,” Sirius replies. “Same.” He reaches for the remote and turns the volume up a notch and they resettle on the sofa, still not looking at each other. 

Neither of them speaks as the show continues and eventually Remus feels his breathing evening out, his heart rate returning to normal and then, slowly, Sirius tucks his feet back under Remus’ legs again. Remus doesn’t say a word. 

Day 11

Remus dawdles in his room. He makes and remakes his bed. He changes his jumper twice. He jumps when he hears a door slam. But eventually he slopes to the library, spending more time than he usually does in his little makeshift office before collecting up everything he needs for the day. 

When he gets to the library Sirius is already there. He’s standing at the long table, hands braced either side, looking down at a stack of books Remus left out to rest overnight. He straightens when he hears the door. 

“Morning,” Sirius says.

“Morning,” Remus replies. 

There’s a moment and Remus’ heart sinks for some reason, but then Sirius gives him a sort-of-smile and steps away from the table, hands up. 

“I promise I didn’t touch anything.”

Remus huffs a laugh, relieved despite himself. “Good. Because then I would have had to kill you.”

“Ouch,” Sirius says, solemnly, and that helps. The tightness in Remus’ shoulder eases a fraction. 

Day 12

Remus isn’t late the next morning. He meets Sirius in the kitchen and they eat breakfast together before heading to the library where Remus sets out his tools, opens his note book and checks the humidity monitor by the window while Sirius pulls a chair closer to the table and opens his laptop, the familiar hum of his music filling the space. 

They don’t talk much, but they never normally do and just before lunch Sirius stands and Remus knows his phone is about to ring. 

“See you in the kitchen?” Sirius mouths as he answers the phone and Remus nods with a little wave before carrying on assessing one of the higher bookcases that is piled with what looks like junk. 

—-------

An hour later Remus is halfway through assembling rounds of cheese and tomato sandwiches when he hears Sirius’ voice, louder and louder, and then stop just in the corridor outside. 

“No- I know that, Reg, I just-”

Remus keeps slicing the tomatoes but he can’t help but listen. Sirius’ tone is tight and clipped in a way that Remus hasn’t heard before. 

“That’s not what I said.”

Remus throws the knife into the sink, deliberately making a noise and the conversation outside ends abruptly and then Sirius appears. He looks stressed, his brow furrowed and he keeps pushing his hair back behind his ears only for it to fall forward again. 

“Hey,” he says, too brightly. “Oh amazing. I’m starving.”

He sits down at the table and Remus brings over the plate. Sirius grabs a sandwich and stuffs it into his mouth. Remus sits too and they eat in silence, Sirius’ leg jiggling wildly beneath the table.

“I fucking hate them,” he explodes suddenly, making Remus jump mid-bite.

“Hate who?”

“My parents,” Sirius spits. He drags a hand through his hair and breathes out sharply. “Well. Hated. And my brother. Well, no. Yes. Sometimes. Argh!”

There was absolutely no warning this was coming and Remus doesn’t know what to say. 

“Sorry,” Sirius says immediately, obviously registering the look on Remus’ face. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s fine,” Remus says quickly. “You don’t have to apologise.”

Sirius snorts. “Well that’s a fucking first in this house.” He stares down at his sandwich and then pokes it violently. “They just- everything I did was a problem. Everything. The way I sounded, the way I looked, the way I acted and now-” he makes a vague irritated gesture. “Well I’m still a problem, apparently.”

Remus considers what to say for a moment. 

“My dad’s like that too,” he says quietly.

Sirius looks up, surprised. 

“Not in exactly the same way,” Remus adds, “But when I- when I came out he became a bit like that. He said that suddenly things about me-” he curls his fingers round the words, “‘made sense’. I don’t go and see my parents very often because he always has something to say about whatever I'm doing. It’s exhausting.”

Sirius is looking at him with an unreadable expression. “That’s shit,” he says simply. 

“It really is. I don’t think he’s a bad man, he’s just- I dunno. My mam says he’s old fashioned but I don’t think that’s an excuse.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s not.” He inches his hand forward on the table so their pinkies brush together. Remus gives a wet, humourless laugh and links them together. 

“Your parents didn’t deserve you, Sirius,” he says and he really means it.

“Thanks,” Sirius says and Remus feels a little squeeze around his fingers. “Sorry for ruining lunch.”

Remus pulls his hand back and looks down at his sad sandwich. “Nah,” he grins back at Sirius. “These sandwiches are crap.”

Day 13

Remus looks up from his notes and realises the light outside the windows has faded almost entirely, the glass reflecting the warm glow of the lamps back at them. 

He straightens, stretching out his shoulders and Sirius looks up from where he’s sprawled in a chair near the window, a paperback balanced loosely in his hands. 

“You okay?” he asks, just about covering a yawn.

“Yep,” Remus replies, wincing as something in his back pops. “I just didn’t realise how late it was.”

Sirius reaches over and flicks on another light, adjusting it until the light falls just right across the table without glare. He hooks his foot lazily around the chair leg. “You done?”

“Not quite. You don’t have to wait for me though, if you want to go.”

“I’m good,” Sirius says. “I’ll finish this chapter and then I'll go and see if there’s anything good for dinner.”

Remus nods his approval. “Okay,” he says.

They settle back into it and it’s an easy companionable quiet. Remus works steadily, ballpoint pen scratching softly across paper while Sirius reads, occasionally shifting position until, eventually, he puts the book down and pulls out his phone instead, scrolling aimlessly. 

“What’s your favourite animal?”

“What?” Remus looks round to find Sirius looking over at him. “Oh. Erm-” he considers the questions, “A hippo, maybe?”

“A hippo?!”

“Yes!” Remus puffs himself up a bit. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing!” Sirius says, sitting up properly in his chair. “I just thought you’d say a cat or a hamster or something.”

“A hamster?!” Remus is offended. “What part of this-” he flaps a hand up and down his torso, “says hamster?”

Sirius raises his brow. “You really want me to answer that?”

“Yes!”

Sirius grins slowly, clearly very pleased with himself. “Alright then. Well, first we’ve got the penchant for hoarding things away in corners, clutching them in your grubby paws-”

“Hey! That’s literally my job-”

“AND THEN,” Sirius raises his voice, “You’re a little bit nocturnal. I can hear you crashing around at night you know.”

“But-”

“And,” Sirius stands and walks over to Remus, “You’ve got these-” he lifts his hands, framing Remus’ face, “-proper chubby cheeks when you’re concentrating. Like you’re storing all your important book thoughts for later.”

Remus feels his face heat immediately. “I do not have chubby cheeks.”

Sirius smushes his face a little more. “You do. And it’s adorable.”

“Get off me,” Remus bats a beaming Sirius’ hands away. “We can’t all have cheek bones that could cut glass,” he humphs, scowling. 

“‘Tis the inbreeding,” Sirius takes a step back with a final pat to Remus’ cheek. “So. A hippo? Why?”

“I think they’re cool,” Remus says, sticking his neck up in defiance. “People think they’ll all slow and sleepy and then suddenly-” he makes an explosive gesture with his hands, “-boom! They’re not. Also they’re very loyal and I think very graceful in the water.”

Sirius blinks at him. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I have,” Remus said primly. “Anyway, what’s yours?”

“My favourite animal?” Sirius asks. “Easy. Big black dog.”

Remus snorts before he can stop himself. “Of course it is.”

“Why’s that funny?!”

“Oh I don’t know,” Remus says lightly and now it’s him who takes a step closer. “Big. Black. Dog. Feels on brand. And really obvious.”

“Obvious how?”

Remus meets Sirius’ gaze very deliberately. “You get bored easily and you look like if you had a tail you’d knock things over with it and then act like it wasn’t you.”

Sirius stares at him for a second. “Well that is actually very rude.”

“And very true.”

“Mmm,” Sirius hums and drops his voice a notch. “Do you know what I’ve heard big black dogs are good at?”

“What?”

“Keeping people warm.”

Remus tries to act like he can’t feel the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Yeh?”

“Ye-p. Excellent amounts of body heat and very clingy. Issues with personal space.”

Remus can’t look away. “Sounds annoying,” he says.

“Sounds ideal if you ask me,” Sirius counters.

There’s a pause. Sirius doesn’t move. Remus still doesn’t look away.

And then Remus clears this throat. “Well,” he says briskly. “If you start shedding everywhere I’ll have to ban you from the library.”

Sirius laughs, bright and warm. “I reckon it’s worth the risk.”

He takes a few steps back and then stretches, arms lifting over his head. “Come on, let’s go and have dinner. I think we should just order pizza.”

Day 14

It’s oddly quiet when Remus emerges from his bedroom, the same, too, in the kitchen as Remus methodically butters his toast and adds milk to his tea. There’s no sign of Sirius and Remus presumes he’s sleeping in - after all, he’s got no reason that Remus knows of to be up early. 

This doesn’t stop him peering expectantly into the library when he arrives though. But no, the room is exactly as they left it last night, the long table bare except for his notes, so Remus sets down his things, rolls up his sleeves and gets on with it. 

He works hard all morning but, every so often, his attention drifts to the door and he checks his phone, pretending it’s for the time. There are no messages and by lunchtime his stomach aches; by now Sirius has usually thrown a cereal bar at him and they stop whatever it is they’re doing for five minutes to stare out the window together, spilling crumbs onto the floor. 

By the time Remus makes himself stop and go to the kitchen to make some lunch he’s come to the conclusion that Sirius mustn't be in the house at all, that he must have gone out somewhere. Which is fine, obviously. 

The afternoon drags and at half past four Remus decides to call it a day, packing up earlier than usual and trying to convince himself that he’s done enough. He thinks about going for a walk outside or actually going out himself; it’s not like he’s trapped here, he could drive into the local town, get some dinner, see what’s on at the cinema…

In the end he makes toast for dinner and takes it down to the snug and spends the next four hours doom scrolling on his phone until he gets a headache and takes himself up to his room. 

Sirius’ door is wide open, the room in darkness. Remus pauses at the threshold and looks inside. It looks like his room; he can make out the unmade bed, a suitcase on the floor piled with clothes. It doesn’t look particularly lived in. Remus wonders where his room used to be when he lived here as a child.  

Back in his room Remus checks his phone again. Nothing. So he sets it face down on the bedside table and gets into bed. 

He lies there, staring at the ceiling, trying to work out why he feels off. Sirius doesn’t need to be in the library with him, he reminds himself, he has a life outside this house and he’s absolutely allowed to disappear without giving any reason.

But still, when he turns the light off, there’s a hollow feeling under his ribs and he realises, with a jolt that he knows what the issue is. 

He misses Sirius. 

Day 15

Sirius turns up again in the morning.

Remus is already in the library and hears him coming, the familiar cadence of his footsteps coming up the corridor. He doesn’t look up from his notes straight away, even though he can feel Sirius looking at him. Instead he finishes the sentences he’s writing, taking his time to write very neatly, double checking all the t’s are crossed and the i’s dotted. 

“Morning,” Sirius says easily. “How’re you?”

“Morning,” Remus replies without looking up. “Yep. All good.”

“Cool. Erm-” he can sense Sirius’ hesitation as he crosses the room. “I made tea.” He sets the mug down where Remus’ usually goes. 

“Thanks.”

“I hope it’s not cold,” Sirius continues, pulling out a chair to sit. “I was waiting for you in the kitchen. You’re in here really early.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

There’s another pause. 

“How come?”

Remus realises he properly needs to actually look at the man. “No reason,” he says again, sitting back so he can finally see Sirius. “Just busy.”

“Okay.” Sirius glances at the shelves Remus worked on yesterday, realising they’ve been emptied. “How’s it going? You get much done yesterday?”

“A bit.”

Sirius waits for more, but Remus doesn’t feel like giving him anything else and when Sirius’ realises there’s nothing else coming he shifts, pushing the heels of his hands against the edge of the table and rocking his chair back.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sleep alright?”

“Yes.”

Sirius exhales through his nose, a quiet huff that might be a humourless laugh and reaches for his laptop, opening it up.

They get on with their respective work. It’s not tense, not exactly, just… off. They don’t talk much and Remus knows that’s his fault. For some reason he doesn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. 

After a while, Sirius clears his throat. “Listen,” he says, casual and careful. “About yesterday, I would have texted you to say I was out all day but I didn’t have your number and by the time I realised it, it was too late, I’d already left.”

Remus pauses, a stack of manuscripts in his hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment. “Okay.”

“I mean,” Sirius adds, “It didn’t even occur to me that maybe I should text until later. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight…” he trails off and then shrugs. “Anyway. Sorry.”

Remus sets the papers down. “You could’ve got it though,” he says mildly. 

Sirius blinks. “Got it?”

“My number,” Remus continues and he knows he sounds petulant. “It’s on all my emails from when you hired me.”

Sirius looks at him. He rubs the back of his neck and Remus thinks he might be annoyed. “Yeh,” he says, “I suppose I could’ve. I didn’t think about that.”

“Fair enough,” Remus says and when it’s clear Sirius is going to offer no further explanation of where he was or what he was doing - not that it’s any of Remus’ business he has to remind himself - he turns back to his work. 

They still don’t walk much but Remus does try and make a bit more of an effort, laughing when they’re eating lunch and Sirius bites into a tomato that promptly explodes all down his front. 

Still, when Sirius stands up and stretches mid-afternoon, gathering up his phone and laptop and heading for the door he makes sure to tell Remus:

“I’m just going to head into town for a bit but I promise I’ll be home for dinner. Okay?”

Remus hesitates, very aware that he needs to apologise for his earlier behaviour but not quite sure how to explain himself.

“Okay,” he says instead. “Maybe we can watch another James Bond this evening?”

Sirius' face breaks into a smile that definitely looks relieved. It makes Remus feel guilty. 

“Yeh. That’d be good. I’ll get snacks while I'm out. Do you want-” he holds out his phone. “Do you want to put your number in? You can text me what you want.”

Day 16

The ladder is dodgy. 

Remus knows this before he climbs it. It must be about one hundred years old, one of those narrow, wooden step ladders that looks sturdy until you actually put some weight on it. He’d been weighing up whether it was safe to use for a couple of days now, needing to reach up to the higher shelves and had thought about asking Sirius if there was a different ladder he could use. 

He’d not got round it.

Even standing on the top rung, the shelf is just out of reach. Remus stretches, fingers brushing the spine of the book he wants. He already feels unstable, has a horrible feeling that he probably shouldn’t be doing this alone when the ladder gives a sharp, protesting creak and the rung cracks. 

Remus has time for exactly one thought - “oh dear” - as his foot misses the next rung down and he pitches sideways. His shoulder clips the shelf, his elbow knocks painfully against the wood and his head catches the corner of the table with an awful, hollow thud.

For a moment the world goes oddly silent and still, distant, like someone has muted all the sound and colour with an insistent grey buzzing and Remus realises he’s on the floor, one knee tucked awkwardly beneath him, palms flat against the floorboard. 

He tries to blink away the fuzz. 

“That was stupid,” he thinks, feeling oddly calm. And then: “I probably shouldn't stand up yet.”

“Remus!?”

Sirius’ voice sounds wrong, faint and far away but Remus can feel the vibration of footsteps hurrying across the room and then stopping abruptly. 

“Oh my God, Remus!” He drops to his knees immediately, hands hovering by Remus’ face. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Okay.”

“I fell,” Remus tells him and the words feel like they’ve travelled a long way to get out.

“Yeh,” Sirius says and Remus feels a gentle hand run over the crown of his head. “What-”

“Off the ladder.”

Remus looks at Sirius just in time to see his eyes flick to the ladder, the table and then back at Remus. He touches two fingers to Remus’ temple. 

“You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” Remus lifts his hand and presses it against his head. His fingers come away smeared red. “Oh.”

Sirius catches his wrist. “Don’t touch it,” he says and his voice is firmer than Remus has ever heard it. “Don’t get up.”

He gets to his feet and disappears for what feels like all of ten seconds and comes back holding a tea towel. He kneels again, closer this time, his knees brushing Remus’ thigh.

“Can you look at me?” he murmurs. 

Remus does. Sirius’ face is pale, jaw set tight and he presses the cloth gently against Remus’ head, hands careful. His other hand rubs Remus’ shoulder, solid and warm.

“Tell me if it hurts, “ he says. 

“It hurts,” Remus says immediately and Sirius makes a sympathetic noise. 

“I don’t think we need to go to hospital,” he says, leaning further down to look at the cut. He sits back on his haunches. “How many fingers?”

“Three,” Remus says, squinting. 

“Correct.”

Sirius keeps the pressure on the wound, dabbing every now and then and as Remus comes round a bit he suddenly becomes acutely aware of how close they are; Sirius’ knee against his leg, how warm he feels, the faint smell of his soap and cigarette smoke - Remus didn’t know he smoked.

“Fuck’s sake, Rem,” Sirius says quietly after a few minutes. “I was only gone ten minutes.”

Remus blinks up at him. “Sorry.”

Sirius rolls with eyes with a look that is definitely fond. “What a disaster. Did you lose consciousness?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You dizzy?

“A bit. I feel a bit sick. Can I sit up?”

“Ooop!” Sirius slides a hand under his arms as Remus makes to sit up, helping him lean back against the table. “Slowly. You okay?”

Remus nods and Sirius settles next to him, his arm now wrapped around Remus’ waist. He’s rubbing slow circles into Remus’ side. 

“You’re not getting back on that ladder,” he turns to tell Remus. 

Remus shakes his head and then winces. “I think I broke it anyway.”

“Good. God knows how old it is.”

“That’s what I thought when I was climbing it,” Remus admits and Sirus huffs in disbelief. 

“You’re an idiot.”

They sit like that for a while, Sirius checking the cut, folding the cloth over to get to a clean side, telling Remus how it’s looking in a low, steady voice. It’s oddly soothing, that way he narrates what he’s doing. Remus feels a bit sleepy. 

“Ok,” Sirius says after a bit. “We’re done for the day.”

Remus, who has been in his own world, starts. “What? Oh- no it’s fine. I’ve still got to-”

“Nope,” Sirius says firmly. “Whatever it is can wait. You’ve got a head injury, Remus.”

“It’s not that bad-”

“Bad enough,” Sirius cuts in. “And I still haven’t ruled out taking you to A&E, you’re definitely a bit spacey.”

“Am not,” Remus grumbles and crosses his arms. He feels Sirius squeeze his waist.

“Don’t be grumpy again. Come on, let’s go and get something to eat. Something sugary will probably make you feel better.”

Remus opens his mouth to continue to argue but the way Sirius slipped in again makes him think twice. 

“Alright,” he says quietly. “Sorry.”

Sirius helps him to his feet, one hand at his elbow, the other at the small of his back and guides him carefully out the library and towards the kitchen. The kitchen lights are too bright and Remus screws up his face. Sirius notices and immediately steers him into a chair.

“Sit. You’ve gone a funny colour.”

“I feel really sick,” Remus admits, shivering slightly. Sirius is standing close, biting his bottom lip and looking worried. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” he says. “Or do you want a tea with some sugar?”

“Tea would be nice,” Remus murmurs, closing his eyes. “Has it stopped bleeding?”

“Give me a sec.” Sirius flicks the kettle on and rinses the cloth and replaces it with a new one. He inspects Remus’ head with a frown, tilting his chin slightly, fingers cool against Remus’ skin.

“It’s stopped,” he says. “It’s actually quite shallow so unless you carry on feeling sick I don’t think we need to go in.”

“If I do have to go will you come with me?” Remus asks without thinking.

Sirius pauses, half way through making the tea. “‘Course I will,” he says. “I’m not going to leave you there.” 

He hands Remus the mug, who takes it with both hands and takes a grateful sip. “That’s good,” he says and Sirius looks pleased. 

“I’m going to try and clean it properly and see if I can find some sort of dressing,” he tells Remus, pulling open the cupboard under the sink and rooting around. “Aha! I knew I’d seen this somewhere,” and stands upright, clutching an ancient looking first aid kit. 

He cleans the wound carefully, small precise movements that Remus can barely feel, carefully pushing Remus hair away from his face and smoothing it down. 

“You scared me,” he says, not looking up.

Remus’ chest tightens. “I’m sorry. Ow-”

Sirius finally meets his eye. “Don’t apologise. Just- don’t do it again, yeh?”

“What?” Remus huffs, “Fall off a ladder? I’ll try.”

—-------

They decide just to eat leftovers for dinner; there’s not much in the way of ingredients to cook with and Sirius doesn’t want to leave Remus to go and get anything - the tea did actually make him feel better, less sick and dizzy, but his head aches and he admits to Sirius that he just wants to curl up on the sofa. 

The snug that evening feels extra cosy. Sirius retrieves both their duvets from their rooms and arranges pillows in piles, setting Remus up in one corner with an extra blanket tucked around his legs. Remus stretches out and turns on his side, Sirius at the other and after a while Remus’ feet end up in Sirius’ lap. Sirius keeps handing Remus things too; water, painkillers, chocolate. 

“You’re being very bossy,” Remus mumbles at one point, mouth full of chocolate. 

Sirius huffs. “No I’m not.” He squeezes Remus’ ankle. “Don’t feel asleep yet.”

“Tired,” Remus murmurs, blinking slowly at him. 

“I know,” Sirius says. “But it says online to try not to sleep for at least 4 hours.”

“Put something on the tele then?” Remus suggests and Sirius nods, picking up the remote and turning on the tv, clicking the volume down low.

Remus drifts in and out of focus, aware mainly of the feeling of his feet resting heavy on Sirius’ thigh. At some point he feels his feet being lifted and Sirius moves closer, perching on the arm of the sofa, carefully checking the dressing. 

“Still with me?” Sirius whispers.

“Mmm.”

“Good.” 

Remus opens his eyes. His head still hurts, the pain a dull ache. “Can I go to bed yet?”

A strange look crosses Sirius’ face and he visibly hesitates, opening his mouth and then closing it again. 

“What?” Remus starts to sit up but Sirius stops him, a gentle arm on his shoulder. 

“Okay,” Sirius starts, “I’m not trying to be weird or anything but I want to sleep with you tonight.”

Remus makes a spluttering noise. “What?” he asks weakly. 

“Just in case,” Sirius continues, clearly not registering the panic on Remus’ face. “Just to keep an eye on you.”

“Oh,” Remus slumps back into the sofa, realising what Sirius means. “You don’t need to-”

“I do,” Sirius interrupts and there’s something in his expression that makes Remus let out a resigned sigh. “I can just sleep on the floor in your room.”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

Sirius looks back at him defiantly. “Why not?”

“Because it’s the floor!”

“I’ve slept on worse,” Siris shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“Yeh, well I do but-” Remus carries on as Sirius opens his mouth ready to argue, “We could-” he hesitates, “We could both sleep in here?”

He watches as Sirius’ eyes flick to the sofa opposite and then back again. “Yeh, okay,” he says slowly. “But I’m going to pile up all the sofa cushions on the floor next to you so I’m right there in case you need me.”

—-------

So that’s what they do.

Sirius makes himself a makeshift bed on the floor, piles the sofa cushions high and after they’ve changed into pyjamas and brushed their teeth they settle in for the night to sleep. 

Or rather, Remus sleeps. 

Sirius doesn’t, not really. 

He wakes at every shift of Remus’ breathing, every small sound. He checks the cut twice more during the night, fingers barely grazing the skin. He watches Remus’ face in the dim light and thinks how beautifully peaceful he looks in sleep. 

At one point, in the very depths of the night, Remus stirs and murmurs something unintelligible, reaching out blinding, his fingers catching on Sirius’ and resting there. Sirius stills and then gently links their fingers together, rubbing his thumb slowly up and down until Remus settles again. 

He doesn't sleep at all after that; just looks up at the ceiling, his heart thrumming and waits for morning. 

Day 17

When Remus wakes, for a second he’s confused about where he is. His bed feels slightly lumpy, the light is too dim and it’s absolutely bloody boiling. 

He shifts to kick the duvet off him and his head gives a painful throb. 

Ah.

The memory clicks into place and he turns his head more carefully; it aches but the nausea and dizziness are gone.

Sirius is lying on the floor beside the sofa curled awkwardly on his makeshift nest of cushions. He’s fast asleep, one arm flung up, fingers resting loosely against the edge of the sofa near Remus’ hip.

Remus’ watches him for a long second and then, ever so gently, runs his fingers over the back of Sirius’ hand. 

Sirius’ eyes snap open and Remus snatches his hand away, feeling a flush start rising at the base of his neck as Sirius sits bolt upright, so fast that he nearly headbutts the coffee table. 

“You’re awake!” He hastily swipes the hair off his face. “How do you feel?”

“Erm-” Remus starts, a little alarmed. “Fine?”

Sirius narrows his eyes. “Actually fine?”

“Like I fell off a ladder fine.”

“Remus.”

Remus sighs. He pushes himself up slowly so he’s sitting upright. The room doesn’t spin and his stomach stays settled. 

“See,” he says to Sirius, who is looking up at him. “Not dying.”

Sirius still doesn’t look convinced and Remus flops down again. “My head still hurts a bit but I'm fine, Sirius. Honestly. Are you okay?” Remus notices now that Sirius looks absolutely exhausted. “Did you get any sleep?”

Sirius waves him off. “All good,” he says and Remus can tell he’s lying. Sirius gets to his feet and stretches, his pyjama top riding up and exposing a pale strip of skin. “Are you hungry?”

“Hmm? What? Oh, sorry,” Remus gives himself a mental shake. “Maybe? Not sure.”

“I could make you some toast and you could try that?”

Remus makes a tiny humming sound and nods. “Okay.”

—-------

In the kitchen Remus slides into a chair at Sirius’ command while Sirius busies himself making tea.

“Has it stopped hurting?” he asks, handing Remus a mug which he takes with both hands. 

He takes a careful sip, relishing the burn on his tongue. “No,” he says, because he sees no point in lying. 

Sirius’ brows pull together. “Do you feel sick still?”

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Sirius puts four slices of bread into the toaster and pushes off the counter. “Can I have a look?” He gestures at the dressing.

Remus sighs as if put upon which makes Sirius smile. “If you must.”

Sirius’ fingers are cool and careful as he leans in. He doesn’t touch the wound, just checks the edges of the dressing, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

“You’re still a bit pale,” he murmurs as he takes a step back.

“Not as pale as you,” Remus retorts.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to be paler than me. Will you take some painkillers at least? For me?”

“I will think about it,” Remus says, looking at Sirius and knowing he’s being stubborn for stubborn’s sake.

Sirius folds his arms and gives Remus A Look. “You bled on my seventeenth century floorboards,” he says. “The least you can do is take some bloody paracetamol.”

—-------

After breakfast, and after Remus has finally persuaded Sirius that he is well enough to at least go to the library they head up there together and the first thing Sirius does is remove the ladder. He yanks it off the wall, lays it down on its side and drags it out into the corridor with what Remus considers to be unnecessary force. 

“You can’t just confiscate it,” Remus protests mildly. 

“Well I just did.”

“I need it!”

“Remus, it’s broken!”

“I could have fixed it.”

“No ladders,” Sirius says firmly, dusting off his hands and then peering at one finger. “I think it gave me a fucking splinter too!”

“But- but-” Remus struggles for the words. “I work here!”

“My house.”

“My professional standards.”

“My concussed idiot.”

They both stop and Sirius clears his throat. “You know what I mean.”

Remus feels warmth creep over his cheeks and Sirius is clearly embarrassed because he doesn’t quite meet Remus’ eye as he pulls out a chair at the table and opens his laptop. Remus makes his way over to a small stack of books on the floor, grabbing his notebook as he goes.

An hour or so goes by, Remus sticks to sorting and annotating lower shelves and pretends that he doesn’t notice Sirius glancing at him every few minutes. 

“I’m still fine,” Remus says eventually after catching Sirius’ gaze. 

Sirius closes the laptop with a snap. “And I’m bored.”

Remus looks back at him, unimpressed. “You’re bored?”

“Yeh.” Sirius slouches theatrically in his chair. “Work is boring.”

“Might be to you,” Remus says.

“Let’s play twenty questions.”

Remus huffs. “What are we, twelve?”

“Yes,” Sirius says. “I’ll go first.” He pauses for what Remus presumes in dramatic effect. “What is… your favourite season?”

“Autumn,” Remus says, without having to think about it. “You?”

“Summer. Favourite food?”

“Beans on toast.”

“No it is not,” Sirius says.

“It is!” Remus says, indignantly. “It’s comforting.”

Sirius laughs. “You’re so fucking weird.”

Remus throws a pencil at him. 

Sirius catches it, delighted. 

“Okay, my turn.” Remus thinks for a moment. “Would you rather fight one horse sized duck or ten duck sized horses?”

Sirius blinks at him and then bursts out laughing. 

“What?” Remus crosses his arms, trying not to laugh. “It’s a legitimate question!”

“It’s a ridiculous question!”

“I’m wait-ing.”

“Okay, okay.” Sirius bites the inside of his cheeks. “Ten duck sized horses, I think.”

“Strategy?”

“Carrots,” Sirius says confidently. “And maybe some sugar lumps.”

Remus nods. “Sound.”

They trade easily after that; favourite films, the mountains or the beach, best place they’ve been abroad. 

Sirius admits he got fired from his first job at a garden centre for arguing with a customer, Remus tells him about shelving in a tiny archive in a Welsh Village. 

“How about… favourite person?” Remus asks, still grinning about the garden centre.

Sirius doesn’t hesitate even for a second. “James.” 

Remus tilts his head. “James?”

“Best friend,” Sirius says. “Since school. He’s just… the best person really. Loud, annoying, thinks he’s God’s gift. 

“Yeh, he sounds great,” Remus says sarcastically.

“He is,” Sirius says fondly. “I love him. He’s saved me more times than I can count.”

There’s no joke in it and Remus’ chest tightens. 

“How?” he asks gently. “If you want to tell me.”

Sirius huffs a small breath. “Dragged me out of places I shouldn’t have been. Made me sleep in with him when I wouldn’t go home. Turned up when I didn’t answer my phone.” He shrugs. “He’s just always there, even when I don’t deserve it.”

Remus swallows.

“He sounds like a good person to have around,” he says quietly. “He obviously thinks you do deserve it.”

“Yeh,” Sirius replies quietly. “Maybe.”

There’s a pause and then Sirius looks up, brightness snapping back into place like a shield. 

“My turn.” He smirks. “Favourite position in bed.”

Remus splutters. “I’m not telling you that!”

“Why not?! You scared?”

This time Remus throws an entire book at him.

Day 18

Remus is halfway through annotating a stack of estate ledgers when Sirius shuts his laptop with a decisive snap. 

“Nope,” he says. “

Remus doesn’t look up. “Nope what?”

“Nope to all of this,” he waves his hand haphazardly at the library in general. “I’m bored.”

“You were bored yesterday.”

“Yes, but I’ve decided today that we’re going to do something about it.”

Remus finally looks up. Sirius is already on his feet, dragging his hoodie over his head, hair getting even more untidy in the process. 

“Let’s go somewhere.”

“I can’t, Sirius,” Remus says, although he puts down the papers in his hand. “I’m working.”

“Yeh, and I’m technically your boss and I think you should take the afternoon off.”

Remus takes a couple of steps towards him. “I can’t just take the afternoon off.”

“Why not?” Sirius asks, cocking his head to one side. 

Remus can’t really think of a counter-argument. “I need to finish that shelf,” he says lamely. 

“No you don’t.” Sirius is half way to the door now, looking back expectantly at Remus. “Come on. It’ll do you good to get out of this place for a bit.”

He has a point. Remus hasn’t left the house since he arrived, unless you count walking in the grounds. “Where would we even go?”

“The beach,” Sirius says immediately and picks up Remus’ cardigan and throws it over to him. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

—-------

The drive is quiet at first. After a little bit of back and forth Sirius does end up driving and Remus presses his forehead against the window and watches the hedgerows, tangled and ripe with blackberries as the autumn sets in, blur past as the road narrows into a ribbon that twists between them. 

Sirius drives with one hand on the wheel, humming under his breath to something low and bass-heavy on the radio. The wind pushes at the car in small sideways shoves. 

“Where are we going?” Remus asks, watching the horizon tilt and straighten as they turn. 

“The cliffs,” Sirius says. “We can walk down to the beach.” 

The road narrows further, winding between fields that dip between a pale horizon. The sky is wide and restless, streaked with fast-moving clouds and they pull into a gravel layby overlooking the sea. 

The wind hits Remus as he steps out of the car. It’s cold and clean and smells of salt and wet stone and something ancient and mineral. It steals the breath from his lungs. 

“Wow,” he says quietly. 

Far below them the shoreline curves in a long sweep of shingle and pale sand, broken up by darker shelves of rock. The sea is a shifting sheet of steel-blue, flecked with white where the wind skims the surface and every now and then when the light breaks through the cloud in narrow shafts the water glistens.

Sirius turns to grin at him. “I used to come here all the time,” he tells him as he leads Remus over to the start of a narrow path. “Used to cycle up here, leave my bike at the top and walk down.”

“It’s beautiful,” Remus says honestly, and at the moment he doesn’t know if he means the landscape or Sirius himself - he looks like he belongs here, wild with his hair flying around his face and his cheeks pink in the wind. 

Sirius smiles back at him. “Come on!”

They climb down the narrow path together, boots slipping slightly on the loose gravel. The grass at the edges lies flattened in the same direction, wind-combed and silvered. It’s steeper than it looks and, at one sharp bend, Sirius reaches out and takes Remus’ elbow. 

“Careful”

“I’m fine,” Remus says, laughing. 

“Debatable,” Sirius shoots back. “Concussed idiot, remember?”

By the time they reach the bottom, Remus’ ears are cold and his cheeks sting. The wind is louder here, roaring low and constant. It tears at Sirius’ hair and pushes Remus’ coat back from his shoulders. 

Sirius spreads his arms at once, leaning into it like he’s bracing against something joyful.

“God, I love this!” he shouts and all Remus can do is look at him. 

He looks different here. The tension that usually sits between his shoulders that Remus didn’t even know was there has gone. His face is looser, freer with his eyes closed and his head tipped up to the sky. 

After a moment he walks to the water, kicking at the edge of the tide and immediately soaks the front of his trainers as a wave rushes in further than expected.

“Brilliant,” Remus says dryly but Sirius’ laugh nearly unends him.

“Worth it.”

They wander without a plan, boots crushing over shingle. The stones click and slide against one another under their weight and gulls wheel overhead, their sharp cries cutting through the wind. Sirius crouches suddenly, sifting through a cluster of damp pebbles with quick, searching fingers. 

“Ha!” he says, triumphant, and stands holding something out to Remus in his palm. “Sea glass!”

It’s a small piece, and smooth, no sharp edges left, worn satin-soft by years of tumbling in the tide. It’s a pale green, almost translucent when the light catches it. 

Remus takes it, his thumb brushing Sirius’ fingers. “I wonder what it used to be,” he says, lifting it up to the light. He turns it over in his hand. The surface is clouded, frosted by time. “It’s nice.”

Sirius beams at him. “Keep it,” he says, reaching and closing Remus’ fingers into his palm. “A memory.”

They continue on and eventually reach a low outcrop of rock, dark and slick with salt. They climb up, feet slipping in the textured ridges carved by water over thousands of years and sit shoulder to shoulder, facing the open sea.

For a while they don’t speak. Remus listens to the waves roll in with a steady rhythm as the wind presses into their backs and slides around them, making it quieter here than on the beach.

Sirius picks at the edge of the rock with a small stone. “I used to come here when I was little,” he says.

Remus glances sideways but doesn’t interrupt. 

“Not loads, but sometimes. When they had people over and I didn’t want to be…around.”

He nudges a loose pebble over the edge with his boot. Remus waits. 

“There was this one summer,” he continues, eyes on the horizon. “I must’ve been eight? Nine? I found a dead crab down there.” He gestures vaguely towards the shoreline. “All dried out and brittle. It must’ve been dead for ages.”

Remus huffs a laugh and then stills as Sirius rests his head on Remus’ shoulder. 

“I buried it,” Sirius says, “Dug a hole with a spoon.”

“With a spoon?”

“Didn’t have a spade. I took it from the kitchen.”

“Fair enough,” Remus carefully tips his head too, resting it lightly atop Sirius’.

“I did a whole funeral and then visited the “grave” every day for about a week and left pebbles and bits of glass just like your one.” He pauses. “Then the tide came in further than I expected and washed the whole thing away.”

Remus hesitates a moment and then puts a careful hand on Sirius’ knee. Sirius shrugs. 

“I was furious.” Remus squeezes once. “I remember thinking that if I’d buried it higher up it might’ve stayed. Like I could have saved it if I'd chosen better ground.” He huffs a humourless laugh. “Which is so stupid because it was already dead.”

The wind whips the hair across his face. He doesn’t push it away and Remus watches him. 

“You can’t control the tide, Sirius.” Remus says gently.

“Yeh. I know that now,” Sirius replies. 

And Remus can see it now; just a small, lonely boy holding a stolen spoon and trying to keep something from being taken from him. His chest aches in an unfamiliar way. 

“I’m glad you told me,” he says.

Sirius looks faintly surprised. “Yeh?”

“Yes,” Remus says.

The wind picks up suddenly, a gust blowing through and shoving at them hard enough that they both rock slightly. 

Sirius jumps up and offers Remus a hand. 

“Come on. Race you to the water.”

“Hey!” Remus says as he’s pulled to his feet. “That’s unfair! You-”

But Sirius is already running.

Remus swears  and scrambles after him, boots slipping, laughter torn out of him. The air is cold in his lungs and bright in his chest. Sirius reaches the water first and turns just as a wave surges higher than expected, soaking them both from the knees down.

They both shout in unison as water seeps into Remus’ socks.

“It’s fucking freezing!”

Sirius throws his head back and laughs, loud and unguarded, the sound swallowed and scattered by the wind. Remus laughs too, helpless not to, and another wave hits Sirius hard enough to knock him sideways. He grabs the front of Remus’ coat instinctively to steady himself.

They end up inches apart. Remus can see ice blue flecks in Sirius’ silver eyes, can see how his lips are a little chapped. The wind whips hair across their faces. 

Remus can taste the salt on his lips, his heart pounding from the run. Or maybe not just from the run. 

Sirius’ hand is still fisted in Remus’ coat and Remus can feel the heat of him even through the layers of fabric. 

Sirius is looking at him.

“You’ve got a scar on your cheek,” he says, almost reverently. 

“Yeh,” Remus whispers back and the world seems to narrow to the wind, to the low roar of the tide, to Sirius’ fingers gently tracing the mark on his cheek. Remus feels it and he closes his eyes as Sirius’ leans in-

A gull screams overhead and Remus’ eyes fly open. 

Sirius blinks and then laughs too loud, dropping his hand and stumbling back, splashing them both.

“Jesus,” he says, kicking at the water. “Nearly knocked you over.”

“Yeh,” Remus laughs weakly, his breath uneven. “Hazardous.”

Sirius rubs the back of his neck with reddening cheeks. 

“Come on,” he says. “Let's go back up and get chips before we freeze.”

—-------

They climb back up the path with considerable less dignity than they came down with, side-by-side. Neither of them say very much but their hands swing together close, brushing against each other until Remus thinks their pinkies might be joined, but really his hands are too cold to really tell. 

By the time they reach the top both of them are slightly breathless and shivering from the cold. There’s a small van parked near the edge of the layby, its white paint peeling slightly at the corners and a handwritten side taped to the window: FRESH TODAY.

Sirius beams. “I hoped he’d be here!”

Remus smiles back at him. “It’s almost like you planned it.”

Sirius takes him over and they order through the little sliding window. The smell hits first, hot oil and salt, something golden and comforting. 

“Two chips please,” Sirius says. “Extra salt, extra vinegar.” He turns to Remus. “Trust me on this.” Remus just nods in reply. 

They’re handed two newspaper-wrapped parcels, grease already blooming through in faint, translucent patches. Sirius grabs a handful of napkins and they retreat a little further along the cliff edge, settling on a low wooden bench bolted into the grass. 

Sirius pins his parcel down with both hands and tears it open. Steam billows up in a thick white cloud and he groans obscenely. “That smells so fucking good.”

Remus peels open his own. The chips are thick cut, uneven, some crisped gold at the edges and other pale and soft in the middle. Salt glitters across the surface and the vinegar scent rises sharp and mouth-watering.

Sirius immediately reaches over and steals one from Remus’ pile.

“Oi!”

“It’s quality control!”

“You have your own!”

“Yeh but they taste better when they’re yours.”

Remus scowls at him but Sirius just gives him an open-mouthed grin, already chewing. 

Remus huffs and takes one for himself. It’s blistering hot and he hisses as he juggles it between his fingers. 

Sirius laughs.

“Shut up,” Remus mutters, blowing on it furiously and finally biting in. It’s crisp on the outside and fluffy in, properly salty. 

He closes his eyes for a second. “Okay,” he admits. “Worth it.”

“Told you.” Sirius says. 

They eat with cold-reddened fingers, the vinegar stinging faintly where the cold has chapped their skin. The paper crinkles constantly, threatening to lift off in a gust. 

At one point, a particularly aggressive gust snatches one of the napkins straight out of Sirius’ hands and sends it cartwheeling across the grass until it disappears from sight. 

Sirius starts to chase but in the end he just has to watch it go.

“Gone,” he says solemnly, as he sits back down. 

“Tragic,” Remus replies and Sirius nudges his knee lightly against Remus. Remus nudges back.

A few minutes later, Remus tips his paper slightly and the vinegar pools towards one edge. He tries to rescue a chip before it soaks through and instead knocks the whole parcel into Sirius’ lap. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry-”

Sirius bursts out laughing. 

“Stop!” Remus says as he scrambles up to try and stop the paper sliding off Sirius’ knees. “Oh God, you’re absolutely covered!”

 “Who cares?” Sirius leans in to help and their hands collide in the middle of the mess, salt-sticky and clumsy. 

For a second neither of them moves. Sirius’ fingers are still half-curled around Remus’ and Remus is half on his knees looking up at him and he’s suddenly very aware of how close they are. Of the way Sirius is looking at him, the same look in his eyes as he did on the beach. Of the faint vinegar-salt warmth between them. 

Remus swallows and Sirius turns his head just as Remus goes to move. His lips brush Sirius’ cheek. They both freeze. 

“Ha,” Remus tries to laugh and withdraws slightly as Sirius untangles their hands. “Right. Emergency chip redistribution."

“Good idea,” Sirius says and Remus sees the fall of his chest as he exhales deeply. 

They reassemble the chips in one big pile and by the time they’re finished, their fingers are greasy and their cheeks are stinging. Remus can’t feel his feet at all and he realises that he hadn’t even noticed. 

Sirius crumples the paper and leans back on the beach, looking out at the sea. 

“This is good,” he says after a moment and Remus hums in agreement. 

“Just- being out. No work, no phone calls. No… anything really.”

“Just chips,” Remus says. 

Sirius turns and smiles at him. “Yeh,” he reaches out and brushes something off Remus’ shoulder. “Just chips.”

Day 19

Despite Remus’ penchant for being a giant nerd and claiming a library is his favourite place to be nine out of ten times asked, the next morning Remus finds himself dawdling as he heads out of the kitchen and towards the library, Sirius trailing behind him. 

He’s not even sure why; maybe it’s just that the house feels warmer than the cliffs had been, but not in a good way. 

He takes stock as he pushes open the door - it smells the same, paper and leather and something faintly sweet beneath it but it looks different. It’s clearer now, tidier. The shelves that just two weeks ago were sagging are now straightened and braced, the lower cases are orderly, the piles and piles of paper filed meticulously away. It looks finishable and Remus doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“It looks good in here,” Sirius says, as if reading Remus’ mind, and brushes past him, setting his laptop down. He looks back at Remus, still standing in the doorway. “You okay?”

“Yeh,” Remus smiles and makes his way into the room. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

—-------

Just before lunch, like clockwork, Sirius’ phone vibrates on the table. Remus glances over his shoulder, to see Sirius looking at the screen, jaw setting almost imperceptibly. 

He stands. “Kitchen,” he mouths and Remus nods and watches him leave, hearing the faint “Hello?” as he heads down the corridor. 

The call lasts about ten minutes, which is what it always is and when he comes back he doesn’t look any different, just throws Remus a quick smile and sits back down again. He types for a while, then stops. Types again. Stares at nothing. 

Remus can’t stop looking at him and Sirius must notice because their eyes keep meeting.

Eventually, Sirius stops typing altogether and slams the laptop shut. “Can I tell you something?” he says instead. 

Remus sets down his pen immediately and looks over at him. “Of course.”

“That call,” he says slowly, as if choosing his words. “It’s my brother. Regulus.”

“Oh,” Remus says. “Okay.”

“A few months ago he tried to kill himself.”

“Oh.” Remus has no idea what to say to that. “Sirius, I’m-”

“He has to call at the same time every day,” Sirius continues over him, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s part of the programme. It’s called ‘structured contact.’ He’s in a residential unit.” He lets out a breath through his nose. “That’s where I was. Last week. I go once a week, sometimes twice. It depends how he is.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m going tomorrow. We, erm, we don’t really get on. I don’t enjoy going. Neither of us are very well.”

“Sirius-” Remus tries again. He feels terrible for being such a dick about things now, but Sirius’ isn’t finished. 

“He hates it there. Says it’s worse than prison. He blames me for him being there. Says it’s my fault.”

Remus’ chest tightens. “Do you think it is?” he asks gently.

“I signed the paperwork.” Sirius finally turns to look at Remus. “They said he couldn't be left on his own. That he needed to be monitored and that if I wanted him alive, I needed to agree.” His mouth twists. “So I did. But all I keep thinking is that maybe if I'd done something earlier he wouldn’t have needed- he wouldn’t have-” He breaks off and takes a deep breath. “Maybe if I'd been less… me. Less angry, less dramatic, less-”

Remus can’t bear it anymore. “Sirius-” he says, more firmly this time and takes the few steps forward so he can kneel by his chair. “Stop.”

“I was the one who left,” Sirius says, looking at him, voice choked. “I got out. I made it clear I wasn’t playing by their rules anymore but he stayed- I begged him. I begged him to come with me but he stayed. He stayed and tried to survive it and I wasn’t there.”

“You were a child, Sirius.” Remus says gently but Sirius just shakes his head. 

“I’m his older brother. My job is to protect him.”

Remus places a firm hand on his thigh, presses down. “You deserve to protect yourself too. You are important too.” He watches as Sirius' hand clumsily tries to grasp his own and Remus twists his wrist to link their fingers together, squeezing tight. 

“He says I abandoned him. Says I left him here.”

“It doesn’t sound like you did,” Remus says softly, thumb brushing over Sirius’ knuckle. “It sounds like you tried, no?”

Sirius falters. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe. But sometimes I can’t help but think that he’s right. Oh God-”

He cuts off and Remus’ heart aches as tears spill over, dripping down his cheeks. 

“Fuck,” he says, swiping at his eyes furiously. “God I’m so sorry.” He stands abruptly, twisting to step around Remus who quickly gets to his feet. 

“Sirius, stop.” Remus reaches out, hands catching first at Sirius’ waist, tentative at first and then firmer as Sirius exhales and leans forward, forehead brushing Remus’ shoulder. 

“Fuck, come here,” Remus says, letting one hand slid up his back, pulling him closer and Sirius collapse against him, allowing Remus to wrap his arms around him properly. 

“You were trying to survive too,” Remus murmurs into his hair. 

He feels Sirius’ fingers curl into the back of his jumper. “I keep thinking that if I’d stayed,” he sobs, “If I’d made it easier for him-”

“You don’t know that,” Remus says.

“He might not have-”

“You don’t know that.”

“I should’ve seen it. The signs-”

“Maybe,” Remus strokes his hair. “But seeing something doesn’t mean you can fix it. He’s still here,” Remus continues. “He’s getting help. You signed the paperwork because you wanted him alive. That’s not abandonment, sweetheart. That’s love.”

“He says he hates me.”

“People who are hurting often hate the safest people in their lives,” Remus replies softly.

He feels Sirius breathe out shakily. 

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix it,” Remus says. “You just have to keep showing up.”

“I’m scared he’ll try again when he gets out.”

“That’s okay.” Remus replies. “You’re allowed to feel scared.”

They are quiet for a long moment, wrapped up in each other and slowly Remus feels Sirius breathing become less shallow, his grip lessening. Then, muffled against Remus’ shoulder:

“Thank you. Sorry.”

Remus pulls back a little so he can look at Sirius. His eyes are red rimmed, tears still clinging to his lashes. Remus can’t help but brush a careful hand over the high point of his cheek. “For what?”

“For being…” Sirius gestures vaguely at himself and Remus shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to apologise for loving your brother.”

Sirius looks at him like that’s a strange idea and Remus’ heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. 

“Tomorrow,” he blurts out before he fully realises what he is saying, “Tomorrow. Do you want me to come with you?”

“What?”

“I could come with you,” Remus carries on, despite the flush he can feel creeping up his neck. “I don’t have to come in or anything but I could wait in the car.”

Sirius stares at him and for a second he looks almost startled. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Remus says, regretting saying anything at all. “I just thought that maybe it might be a bit easier if you had some company.” He picks at some imaginary lint on his sleeve. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off if I’m overstepping.”

“You’re not,” Sirius says quickly. “It’s just-” he scrubs a hand across the back of his neck. “It’s not a nice place. And the visits are… I’m always upset afterwards.”

Remus shrugs. “I don’t mind. And I’m really good at sitting in cars and napping,” he adds, trying to make his voice light. 

That pulls a reluctant smile out of Sirius.

“James comes with me,” he says quietly. “Sometimes he comes in but sometimes he just waits. He always falls asleep.”

“Oh,” Remus says quickly, “Sorry, I didn’t realise that. Obviously I don’t want to tread on his toes or anything and I’m sure you’d rather have him with you. It was honestly just an idea, it doesn’t matter at all-”

“Remus.” 

Remus shuts up. “Sorry. I feel really stupid for suggesting it now. It’s not like we’re…” he trails off. 

Sirius tilts his head to one side. “Not like we’re…?”

“I don’t know,” Remus finishes lamely. 

“Huh.” Sirius says and then looks at him for a moment, like he’s trying to work something out. “You’d really do that though?” he asks eventually. “Come with me?”

Remus just nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, come with me.”

“Yeh?”

“Yes. I’d really like that. Please.”

“Okay.”

The word lands softly between them. Remus is still close enough to feel the warmth of Sirius through the thin cotton of his shirt and he realises that Sirius’ hand is still loosely caught in the front of Remus’ jumper. He looks down at the same moment Sirius seems to notice too. 

He clears his throat and withdraws his hand. “Right,” he mutters, rubbing at his face again. “Well that was all deeply embarrassing.”

“It wasn’t,” Remus says. 

“Well it was for me!”

Remus huffs a quiet laugh. “My cat died last year,” he tells him. “It got run over. I cried so hard I made myself sick. I’m thirty-one. That’s embarrassing.”

Sirius bites his bottom lip, hiding a grin. “I’m sorry. What was it called?”

“Catface.”

The bark of laughter makes Remus break into a smile too.

“That’s such a stupid name.”

“It is not!”

“It really is.” Sirius nudges Remus’ shin with his foot and then turns. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go and have some lunch before one of us has another emotional breakdown. You can tell me about Catface.”

Remus smiles. “That sounds ideal.”

Day 20

Remus is awake before Sirius, well he thinks so anyway. There’s no sign of him as he takes his time to shower and then heads to the kitchen for something to eat. He doesn’t feel nervous, or at least he doesn’t think he does but he knows he didn’t sleep well and that’s thrown him off a bit.

By the time Sirius wanders into the kitchen, hair still messy from sleep and hoodie half zipped over a bare chest, Remus is already finished his toast and halfway through a second cup of tea. 

Sirius blinks at him. “You were up early.”

Remus shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says truthfully. “And I actually managed to get bored of doom scrolling.”

Sirius laughs as he pours himself a coffee and leans back against the counter, watching Remus over the rim of his mug. 

“You really don’t have to come today,” he says after a moment. “I can text James no problem and he’ll meet me there.”

“I want to come,” Remus says resolutely. 

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Sirius studies him for a second longer. “Okay,” he says and finishes up his coffee.

—-------

It takes Sirius another hour or so to get ready and Remus takes the opportunity to duck into the library to finish off a couple of quick jobs; he feels guilty taking another day off but pushes the thought away. Being there for Sirius today feels a lot more important than cataloging yet another encyclopedia.

Sirius comes to collect him, holding Remus' coat in one hand and his car keys in the other and they head out together. It’s warmer out than Remus anticipated and he immediately starts tugging at the collar of his jumper. 

“It’s bloody freezing in that house,” he says as Sirius heads automatically for the driver’s side and then: “Do you want me to drive?”

Sirius looks slightly taken aback. “What? Oh, yeh. I’m dreading the winter, I’ve got no idea if the central heating works. And no, it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

Sirius hesitates and then, without warning, tosses Remus the keys. “Actually, yeh. Knock yourself out.”

—-------

The drive is quiet and Sirius spends most of it staring out of the window. Remus can feel the tension building, can feel how much Sirius doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t push conversation, but as a road out of a small town winds through farmland before narrowing into smaller lanes bordered by tall hedges he takes a breath and reaches out, casually laying a hand on Sirius’ knee, smiling as he feels Sirius tense and then relax under his touch. 

The SatNav gives the odd direction and Sirius chips in every now and then until eventually a tall stone wall appears on either side of the lane, moss creeping up between the blocks and they come to a set of wrought-iron gate, not dissimilar to those at the Black Manor. They open automatically as they approach and Remus can see a large, pale building, set back among wide lawns. It looks more like an expensive boarding school than a hospital, Remus can see a lake further down the grounds, a path running alongside it, lined with benches. 

“Jesus,” Remus mutters. “Look at this place.”

“Told you it was fancy.” Sirius says quietly as they pull into what must be the visitors' carpark. “I hate that it reminds me of Grimmauld.”

“Grimmauld?”

Sirius looks at him, a wry smile on his face. “The house,” he says, “Where you work.”

“What?” Remus asks, confused.

“That’s what it’s called!”

“Is it?!”

“Yes!” Sirius actually laughs. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Hey!” Remus says, turning off the ignition. “How was I supposed to know?”

Sirius unclicks his seatbelt and shifts to face him. “Surely you looked at the address to find the place in the first place?”

This gives Remus pause. “Oh yeh,” he says, puzzled now. “Well, I don’t know what I looked at but it definitely said nothing about Grimmauld.”

“Weird,” Sirius muses and it’s at that moment that Remus realises the conversation for what it is. Sirius is stalling. 

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Remus asks gently and the smile slides of Sirius’ face and he sighs. 

“No. It’s alright. He stares straight ahead at the building, sighs again. “I better go in.” He reaches for the door, then hesitates. “You’ll be here when I finish?”

“I’ll be here,” Remus tells him. “Not going anywhere.” He gives Sirius what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “Go on. We can stop for fun coffee on the way home.”

“We better,” Sirius mumbles at him as he pushes the door open. “See you in a bit.

The door shuts behind him with a dull thud and Remus watches in the rear view mirror as Sirius walks across the gravel path towards the entrance, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and disappears inside.

It suddenly feels very quiet. Remus leans back in the seat, which creaks slightly as his weight shifts, and looks out the window. From where he’s sitting the place looks peaceful. He can see ducks on the lake, two people walking slowly along the edge of the water, one holding a paper cup in their hand. Just to the side of the carpark there’s a gardener raking leaves. 

Remus decides it looks like the sort of place people come to get better. Or he hopes so anyway. He glances at the clock on the dashboard. Ten minutes have passed. Fifteen. Twenty. He tries not to imagine the conversation happening inside, what Sirius might be saying, tries not to picture Sirius sitting across from his brother, stubborn and hurting. 

Tries not to imagine what Regulus might be saying back. 

—-------

Remus starts awake. He hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep, despite his jokes that he’d nap in the car. 

Sirius is standing by the car and Remus knows immediately that he is not okay. His shoulders are hunched and his face even paler than usual. His eyes look glassy and unfocussed and he’s chewing on his bottom lip.

Remus doesn’t even think. He pushes the car door open and steps straight into him, catching him automatically, arms wrapping around his shoulders. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Sirius exhales like the words knocked the breath out of him and he folds forward, gripping the back of Remus’ jumper, pressing his face into the side of Remus’ neck. 

Remus holds him tight. “Bad one?” he murmurs.

Sirius nods once against his shoulder and Remus doesn’t need to know anything more and it’s another couple of minutes before Sirius finally exhales shakily and pulls back, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Ugh. Sorry.”

“For what?” 

“This.” Sirius says, gesturing at nothing at all. 

Remus just shakes his head. “What? For having feelings?”

“Right,” Sirius lets out a weak breath that might be a laugh. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius hesitates. “Later,” he says eventually. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” Remus says and he leans forward and drops a gentle kiss to Sirius’ cheek. “Do you want to go home?”

Sirius lets out a real laugh then and presses his forehead against Remus’. “God yes. I really do.”

Day 21

Remus spends most of the day in the library, the guilt from missing yesterday finally catching up with him. He’s not sure why he feels guilty, after all, it’s Sirius who’s paying him and it’s Sirius who has suggested he bunk off more than once. But regardless, he wakes early and gets straight to work, sleeves rolled up and music playing quietly from his phone as he works his way through what must surely be the last of the cataloguing. 

Sirius drifts in and out. He brings tea and then coffee, which is accompanied by an armful of post which he drops on to the table with a theatrical groan about ignoring bills and later on in the afternoon he wanders through with an honest-to-God dog trailing behind him which gives Remus a jump scare. 

“What the fuck is that?!”

Sirius glances at the animal and then back at Remus looking puzzled. 

“It’s a dog.”

“Yes I know it’s a dog!” Remus says. “Where has it come from!?”

“Oh,” Sirius ruffles the dog's ears. “From the farm down the road. It visits sometimes.”

“What do you mean it visits sometimes?!”

Sirius shrugs. “Sometimes it comes over to see me.”

Remus eyes the dog suspiciously. “I see. It better not- argh!” Remus shrieks as the dog lifts its leg at the corner of one of the book shelves and Sirius collapses into a fit of hysterics as Remus flaps his arms wildly. 

“Get it out!”

“Chill your boots,” Sirius manages between laughs, grabbing the dog’s collar. “He hasn’t actually done anything.”

“Yeh but he was thinking about it!” Remus counters. “Tell it to go home.”

“Sorry Trevor,” Sirius bends down and rubs the dog vigorously behind both ears. “Mr. Boring says you have to go home.”

Remus just glares at them both. 

—-------

By the time the dog has been firmly escorted back to the farm Remus is more or less finished for the day. He pens in the last entry on the page in front of him and leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders crack and then gets to his feet. 

He heads to the kitchen, which is where he finds Sirius, leaning against the counter with two mugs of tea ready and staring absently out of the window in a daydream. 

He jumps slightly when he notices Remus. “You’re done?” he asks, nudging the mug towards him and Remus nods, picking up the mug with a grateful smile. 

“Yep. Pretty productive day.”

“That’s good. I was just thinking about dinner. What do you fancy?”

There’s a small pause and Remus clears his throat, ready to ask the question he’s flip-flopped over pretty much all day. 

“Erm-” he starts, already feeling the blush rising on his cheeks. “I was wondering… do you want to go out? For dinner I mean?”

Sirius’ head snaps up. “Oh,” he says. “Do you mean like dinner dinner?”

“Erm,” Remus doesn’t really understand the question. “Yes?” 

For a moment Sirius just looks at him and his face breaks into a slow, genuine smile. 

“Yeh,” he says. “I’d like that. Really like that actually.”

“Great!” Remus feels relieved for some reason, which is silly because it’s not like anything would have happened if Sirius had said no. “Err… I don’t actually know if there is anywhere to go for dinner around here though.”

Sirius chuckles. “You’re good. There’s a nice pub in town. We can take the bike!”

Remus freezes. “I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “We can take the what?”

“The bike! I haven’t been out all week and I’m sick of the car after yesterday.”

Remus stares at him. “Yeh,” he says after a moment. “I am absolutely not doing that.”

Sirius just laughs. “Oh come on! It’ll be fun. You’ll love it, I swear.”

“I will not.”

“It’s literally twenty minutes into town.”

“No.”

“You’ll be fine, Remus.”

“I will die.”

“You will not fucking die.”

Remus folds his arms stubbornly. “I refuse. Leave me alone.”

—-------

The motorbike is black and sleek and clearly goes very fast. 

Remus is fucking terrified. Sirius is definitely trying very hard not to laugh. 

“Sirius, I can’t,” Remus finds himself pleading. “I’m going to fall off!”

“You’re not going to fall off,” Sirius says, jostling Remus forward with a hand at the small of his back. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“You’re going to drive at a hundred miles an hour.”

“Yes, Remus.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “I’m going to drive into town at one hundred miles an hour.”

“What?!”

“Oh my God you absolute melon. I’m not going to drive a hundred miles an hour with you on the back.”

“But you would without me?!”

Sirius snorts and gives up on coaxing Remus any closer. He walks over to the bike and flips open the storage compartment at the back. 

“Here.” He pulls out a helmet and holds it out to Remus, who doesn’t move. “It’s for your head,” Sirius says, clearly biting his cheek to stop from laughing. “For when you fall off,” he adds, unhelpfully.

Remus takes a few reluctant steps forwards and takes the helmet. “It’ll mess up my hair,” he says lamely.

“Babe.” Sirius gives him a look. “Your hair is like a bird's nest like one hundred percent of the time.”

“Huh!” Remus huffs back. “Rude.”

“Just put it on.”

Remus sighs heavily and lowers it over his head. “It doesn’t fit,” he tries, his voice coming out slightly muffled. 

Sirius laughs and steps closer, reaching under Remus’ chin to tighten the straps. Remus goes very still. 

“It fits just fine,” he adjusts the helmet slightly. “There. You’re all set,” he says softly and then seems to notice how close they are standing. He coughs once and steps back. “Perfectly safe.”

“I’ll be the judge of that thank you very much.”

Sirius laughs again and swings one leg over the bike and settles onto the seat. “Come on, you.”

Remus hesitates. “Erm-”

"You trust me, don't you?”

Remus glares at him through the visor. “Don’t blackmail me into feeling guilty.” He’s pretty sure Sirius winks at him in reply and after a long moment Remus finally relents and clambers on behind Sirius.

“I’m going to die,” he mutters as he tries to steady his footing.

“I’ve already told you-” Sirius leans back into him. “You’re not going to die.”

Remus pauses again and then:

“Where do my hands go?”

Sirius reaches back and grabs Remus’ wrists, pulling them forward until Remus’ arms wrap around his waist. 

“They go here. You ready?”

Remus shakes his head vigorously as the engine roars to life beneath them. He immediately throws himself against Sirius’ back, clutching at him. He can feel Sirius’ laugh vibrate through his back as he glances over his shoulder. 

“Ready now?” he shouts over the noise of the engine.

“No!”

“Too late.”

The bike starts rolling down the drive, the gravel crunching underneath the thick tyres, slowly picking up speed as they reach the narrow road that runs past the edge of the estate. 

Remus stays rigid, every muscle in his body locked in place as the wind begins to tug at his coat and the trees blur slightly at the edges of his vision. His helmet muffles the sound of the engine but he can still feel it, a steady vibration running up through his legs and chest. He tightens his arms instinctively around Sirius’ waist. 

“Relax!” Sirius calls over his shoulder.

“I am relaxed!”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re basically crushing me is it?!”

“I’m not!”

Sirius laughs and accelerates slightly, the bike leaning smoothly into the first long bend. Remus makes a quite-diginified-actually noise. 

“Oh my God!”

“You’re fine!”

“I hate this.”

“Nah, you don’t!”

“I absolutely fucking do!”

Remus squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again as he feels the bike tilt, this time to the left. 

The countryside stretches out around them, fields stitched together with stone walls, patches of woodland against the darkening sky. The wind rushes past them in steady waves and Remus notices something. 

Sirius is driving carefully. He’s not going slowly, not exactly but it’s definitely smooth, controlled. Every turn is deliberate, every bend taken steadily instead of sharply. The bike leans into another curve and without even thinking about it Remus leans with it, the movement almost natural. He loosens his grip slightly and feels a nudge to his side. 

“You’re enjoying it!”

“I am not!”

“You’ve stopped screaming.”

“I was not screaming.”

“Whatever you say, Re.” Sirius laughs again and the road begins to widen as they approach the town, the fields giving way to scattered houses.

Remus’ grip has shifted from a desperate cling to something easier - his hands resting more naturally against Sirius’ stomach, his knees braced loosely against the side of the bike and he lets out a breath as they turn into the small high street, lights glowing warmly in the shop windows as the evening settles over the town. 

Sirius slows the bike and pulls neatly into a space beside the curb outside the pub and kills the engine.

For a moment they don’t move. The sudden quiet feels strange after the steady roar of the engine and the rush of the wind. His arms are still wrapped around Sirius’ waist. 

He realises that with a start and quickly lets go, slowly lifting his visor. “Well,” he says. 

Sirius twists to look at him. 

“That was deeply unpleasant.”

Sirius pulls his helmet off, his hair falling free, which Remus thinks mutinously still looks as good as it always does. 

“You loved it.”

Remus refuses to dignify him with an answer, instead swinging one wobbly leg over the bike and taking off his own helmet, shaking his hair loose. 

Sirius stares at him. 

Remus narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sirius says, with a badly suppressed grin. 

“What?”

“Your hair looks ridiculous.”

Remus’ hand shoots to his hair, running it through and he sighs. 

“Wonderful.”

“Just- Come here.” Sirius hops off the bike with practiced ease, taking the helmet from Remus and hooking in onto the bike. He reaches over and carefully drags his fingers through Remus’ curls, smoothing them out. Remus feels goosebumps prickle over his arms.

“There,” Sirius says after a moment. “All fixed.”

Remus snorts. “It’s never fixed. It’s a bird’s nest, remember?”

“It’s cute,” Sirius says. “All fluffy curls,” and he reaches over again to tug at an errant curl on Remus’ forehead. “Shall we go in?”

Remus just nods, following Sirius’ hand with his eyes as he pulls it away. 

They walk up onto the pavement and Sirius pushes the pub door open, warmth spilling out to meet them. 

The place is comfortably busy without being too loud.  Just low conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, glasses clinking on the bar. The air smells faintly of beer and something richer. Remus' stomach grumbles. 

They make their way to the bar first and Remus notices that a few people clock Sirius, glancing up from their conversations. The bar man definitely recognises him, face breaking into a grin as they approach. 

“Evening, Black,” he calls. “Long time no see.”

Sirius smiles back. “Alright Tom,” he says easily and Tom’s eye flick briefly to Remus. 

“Friend of yours?”

“Yeh,” Sirius says. “This is Remus.”

Remus gives him a small wave that he immediately regrets and stuffs his hand into his pocket but Tom just nods approvingly. 

“Nice to see Sirius bringing in respectable company for once.”

Remus doesn’t really know what that means or how to reply so he just smiles and hopes that he doesn’t look too crazy. 

Sirius however, snorts. “Bold assumption. Remus is my- erm. He’s doing my library.”

Tom raises an eyebrow as he starts to pull a pint. “Doing what to your library?”

“Sort of… sorting it?” Sirius turns to Remus with a tilt of his head. 

“Something like that,” Remus says. 

They order drinks and find a table near the window. It’s tucked slightly away from the middle of the room but close enough to the bar and Remus shrugs out of his coat, sliding it onto the window sill and sits down. 

Sirius pushes his pint across the table.

“A peace offering?” Remus questions.

“What?” Sirius takes a gulp of his own pint. “For the excellent riding experience you absolutely just enjoyed?”

“Hmm,” Remus hums and takes a sip, snatching a menu up in lieu of an answer. 

Sirius just grins and a few moments later a waitress appears, looking delighted. 

“Sirius! Haven’t seen you for ages!”

“Hi, Rosie,” Sirius says politely. “Yeh, been pretty busy with work. This is Remus.” He gestures across the table. Remus finds it slightly bizarre that he’s being introduced but smiles back at her. Her eyes flicker between him and Sirius for a moment and then she nods. 

“Nice to meet you. What can I get you?”

“What’s the curry tonight?” Sirius asks.

“Lamb.”

“Great,” Sirius looks back at her. “I’ll have that please. Re?”

“Erm-” Remus scans the menu. “Is the pie any good?”

“Probably would have had the pie if the curry hadn’t been lamb,” Sirius tells him.

“Sounds good, I’ll have the pie please.”

Rosie scribbles it down. “Shout if you need anything else,” she says and then walks off, presumably in the direction of the kitchen.

—-------

“What?! It’s true!”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius tries, choking on a mouthful of rice. “Say it again.”

“A vigilant guardian of literary heritage.” Remus says doggedly, although he can feel his mouth twitching into a smile. 

“That,” Sirius swallows, “Is one of the most pretentious things I’ve ever heard.”

“Says you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll only drink Assam tea! And Assam teabags are expensive.”

“Yeh. But that’s only because-” 

Sirius’ foot knocks Remus’ under the table and he stops mid sentence. 

“Sorry,” he says immediately.

“You’re good,” Remus says. “Only because…?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Sirius says, flustered for some reason. “Leave me alone!”

Remus laughs and scoops another forkful of peas. “Tell me about James.”

Sirius looks slightly surprised. “What about him?”

“Anything really,” Remus swallows his mouthful. “You said he’s your best friend?”

“Yeh, since school. Not sure if I've already told you that. We met when we were thirteen. Boarding school, we were in the same dorm. I hated him at first though. He kept trying to talk to me.”

Remus laughs. “How awful for you.”

“Terrible,” Sirius agrees adamantly. “But eventually I gave up and let him and we’ve been stuck together ever since.”

Remus tilts his head slightly. “And he comes with you to see Regulus most times?”

“Yeh.” Sirius picks at the corner of his napkin. “He knows Reg a bit too. Not that well but he’s only a year younger than us and he was at school too. He helped me when… it all happened. Looking for places and stuff.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe you’ll meet him one day.”

Remus smiles. “I’d like that,” he says quietly. 

They sit with that for a second and then Remus accidentally kicks Sirius underneath the table. 

“Oops. Sorry.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Was that revenge for earlier?”

“No!”

“Just say-ing,” Sirius sing-songs. “That felt like you might have done it purpose.”

“I can assure you it was just a coincidence,” Remus says primly.

“You’re such an idiot,” Sirius's voice is fond. “Tell me something about you?”

Remus shrugs. “You already know everything. I’m really boring.”

“Come onnnn,” Sirius wheedles. “What’s your best friend called?”

“Alice,” Remus says. “I’ve known her all my life. Her mum’s my Godmother and now I’m her son’s Godfather.”

“Cute!” Sirius says. “That’s the same as me. James’ son, Harry, is my Godson. Wait-” Sirius digs in his pocket for his phone. “Let me show you a photo.”

Sirius is mid-way through scrolling and Remus is waiting patiently when a man walking past their table pauses. 

“Sirius!” he says warmly. “Good to see you out again.”

“Hey, Fab!” Sirius says, jumping up to give the man a brief hug. “How’re you doing?”

“Yeh not bad.” The man, Fab, apparently, looks at Remus. “Nice to see you finally bringing your man along.”

Remus nearly inhales his gravy but Sirius doesn’t even blink. 

“Yeh,” he says casually. “How’s the fam?”

“All good. We’re up to six nephews now.”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius screws his nose up. “They’ve been busy.”

Fab chuckles. “I’d rather not think about it. Anyway-” he looks at Remus again. “Anything new with you?

“Well, we better let you get on.” Sirius says at the same time.

Fab grins. “I get the message. Nice to see you, Black. Give me a text and we’ll go for a beer sometime.”

Fab continues towards the bar and Remus looks at Sirius who takes a long sip of his beer. 

“What?”

“You didn’t correct him. He’ll think I’m your boyfriend now.”

Sirius just shrugs. “Couldn’t be bothered.” He stuffs a large piece of naan into his mouth. 

“Yeh, but-” Remus starts. “People will gossip.”

Sirius just laughs. “It’s not like they don’t know I’m gay, Remus. I’ve fucked at least three people in here.”

“Oh my God,” Remus splutters. “Sirius!”

“What?!” Sirius grins. “It’s true.”

“Who?” Remus can’t help but ask. “Him?”

“Yup,” Sirius nods. “We had a bit of an on-off thing for a while. And his brother.”

“At the same time?!” Remus asks, scandalised. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Umm yes! That’s why I asked!”

Sirius raises one eyebrow and then dissolves into giggles. “No. Not at the same time.”

“I can’t decide whether I was about to be appalled or impressed,” Remus admits, trying to surreptitiously turn around to see if Fab is still at the bar. “He’s good looking. Probably not my type though.”

“No?” Sirius tilts his head to the side. “What’s your type?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Remus throws back at him. 

—-------

By the time their plates are cleared the pub is far busier, the noise making it almost too difficult to hold conversation without your heads close together and it’s as Remus leans back in his chair, pleasantly full that he catches sight of his watch: it’s almost eleven o’ clock. 

They’ve been talking for hours; conversation has been easy, from stories about school and university to Sirius explaining to Remus which fields on the estate flood every winter. Remus smiles as he remembers something else he meant to tell Sirius, about the time he’d been dared to jump into the river and-

Across the table Sirius is watching him. Remus narrows his eyes playfully. 

“What?”

Sirius just shakes his head. “Nothing.”

A moment passes and then Sirius’ foot nudges lightly against Remus’ under the table again. Remus stills but he doesn’t move away, and neither does Sirius. 

Remus realises that this time, it’s probably not an accident. 

Day 22

“It looks like it wants to fucking murder me,” Remus mumbles, resolutely staring back at the brown alpaca that is definitely giving him eyes. 

Sirius laughs, swinging back and forth on the fence. “Yeh. They’re not very friendly. There used to be a whitish coloured one too but I think it must’ve died.”

“What do they even do with them?” Remus asks, taking a couple of steps forward, hoping Sirius will follow so they can get the fuck away. 

“No idea,” Sirius pushes off the fence and follows. “Maybe they're just pets.”

“Weird pets,” Remus wrinkles his nose as Sirius falls into step next to him. 

“Yeh. My dad was really mad when they bought them. Thought they’d picked this field to keep them in to piss him off.” He pauses as they duck under a low hanging bough. “He was probably right.”

They’ve been walking for about an hour; out across the fields, where the land opens wide and the sky suddenly feels impossibly vast above them, pale and streaked with thin, fast moving clouds. The tall grass brushes at their legs as they follow the faint path worn into the earth, their shoulders almost touching. 

They’ve been talking, about nothing in particular, which Remus realises is what they usually do, talk about nothing of substance, but it’s easy. And the silence is easy too as they turn a corner, the trees thickening out in front of them. 

“You’re quiet?” Sirius says, and it takes Remus, who had been too busy trying very hard not to notice the way Sirius’ sleeve brushes his hand every few steps, a moment to realise Sirius is posing the statement as a question. 

He smiles. “I’m always quiet.”

“You feel more quiet than usual.”

“Oh,” Remus really hadn’t noticed. “Sorry. I'm fine, honestly. Just thinking maybe.”

Sirius stops, turns to Remus, head tilted to one side. “What about?”

“I don’t really know,” Remus says, and he’s not lying but his head does feel full. 

“Okay,” Sirius says softly and carries on walking as the wind moves through the grass in long, slow waves. Then - a drop. 

It lands cool against Remus’ cheek. He frowns slightly, glancing up. “Is it-”

Another drop. Then another and Sirius looks up too. 

“Is it raining?” He runs his fingers through his hair and looks at them. “Oh.”

And then - rain. Proper rain. It comes down fast and unrelenting, heavy drops that soak through fabric in seconds, blurring the edges of the world and turning the ground slick beneath their feet.  

“Oh for fucks sake!” Remus starts, ducking his head as the water hits. “This is not what I-”

Sirius lets out a barking laugh. “Run!” He reaches for him, fingers catching at Remus’ wrist as he turns. “Come on!”

So they start running. There’s no grace to it, just the two of them sprinting across the field, boots slipping as their laughter is torn loose and scattered by the wind. Sirius doesn’t let go of Remus’ wrist, not even when Remus stumbles slightly, pulling them both towards the ground. They stand, palms muddy and keep going until they finally reach the edge of the trees, breathless as they stop for shelter under the branches of an old oak. 

It doesn’t offer much protection. The rain still finds them, slipping through the leaves and catching in their hair, running in cold rivulets down their faces and necks. 

Remus bends slightly, hands braced on his thighs, trying to catch his breath, the smile still wide on his face as the rain drips steadily from the ends of his hair. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Sirius shoots back, a few steps away, chest rising and falling quickly. “You could have checked the weather too!”

“Oh, of course,” Remus huffs, “Because I famously carry a barometer with me.”

Sirius just laughs and tips his head back, his eyes closed as he lets the rain fall across his face.

And he looks so beautiful that it takes Remus’ breath away. 

Sirius laughs - God does Remus love that laugh -  again after a moment and opens his eyes, turning to Remus as he drags a hand through his hair. It doesn’t help, the wet strands falling back into his eyes, clinging across his forehead.

Remus can’t stop staring. 

“What?” Sirius is still out of breath but you can hear his smile. 

And then suddenly Remus is standing right there, right in front of him. He hadn’t even meant to move. 

“Here,” he says, though it comes out far quieter than he intended.  

He lifts his hand slowly, slow enough that Sirius could move away if he wanted to as his fingers brush through the damp hair, pushing it back from his face, tracing the line of his temple, lingering on the high point of his cheek. 

Sirius stills, the laughter fading from his lips. They’re so close that Remus can see the way Sirius’ breath hitches, the way his lashes are stuck together with rain and he’s looking at Remus and Remus doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He can feel the heat of Sirius’ skin under his fingertips, despite the rain, and still Sirius is looking at him. He knows he should move but he doesn’t and it’s then that he realises it’s because he doesn’t want to. 

Remus doesn’t know who moved first. He thinks it might have been him, but it also might have been Sirius but it doesn’t matter anymore because they’re kissing.

It’s hard and messy and nothing like Remus might have imagined it would be. There’s nothing careful or tentative about it and it’s perfect.

Sirius’ hand comes up, catching at Remus’ collar and pulling him sharp against him and Remus makes a small sound that might have been a moan as he fists a hand in the front of Sirius’ hoodie, fingers bunching in the fabric as he licks into his mouth. 

They stumble backwards until Remus’ back hits the tree behind him. He gasps but the sound is swallowed by Sirius as he slides his hand up, his thumb catching under Remus’ chin, tilting his head down slightly so he can deepen the kiss. 

“More,” Sirius breathes into Remus’ mouth and Remus nods, biting at Sirius's lower lip with his teeth as he threads his fingers into Sirius’ hair and tugs.

The noise Sirius lets out makes Remus’ breath stutter and he tugs once more before sliding his hand down, catching Sirius’ waist and pulling him closer as Sirius pushes a thigh between Remus legs and rolls his hips. Remus matches him, grinding forward as they kiss and kiss and kiss. 

Sirius makes a low frustrated sound when they finally break apart, barely pulling back as Remus chases his mouth.

“Shit,” he mumbles and Remus half-laughs, half-sobs as he kisses him again and then lets his forehead drop against Sirius’, their breath uneven, hips still pressed together.

“Remus-” Sirius tries, curling his fingers more tightly into Remus’ curls.

Remus doesn’t answer. He can’t think. Sirius is too close, holding on too tight, tangled together under the boughs of the tree, the rain still dripping steadily. He takes a deep breath, trying to stop the frantic beat of his heart.

Eventually, Sirius pulls back, his hand trailing down Remus’ face and onto his shoulder. “Wow, okay,” he says, taking a step back and Remus immediately misses the warmth of his body. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Remus echoes, although he’s not entirely sure what he means by it.  

Sirius drags a hand through his already ruined hair. “We should-” he starts, though the sentence doesn’t finish.

“Probably,” Remus agrees, pressing his head back briefly against the tree, eyes closing for half a second.

For a moment they can do nothing but look at one another and then Sirius mutters a quiet, “Come on,” and he turns back the way they came and starts walking back towards the house.  

All Remus can do is follow.

Day 23

Remus is fairly certain he’s losing his mind. He’s trying not to be dramatic about it but that’s becoming increasingly hard as the day goes on and they haven’t fucking talked about it.

Not this morning, when Remus had come down to the kitchen and found Sirius already there, mug in hand, offering a casual ‘Morning, Re.’ Not at lunchtime, when their hands had brushed together as they reached for the bread knife at the same time. Not when Sirius had disappeared into town for an hour and had come back with a rose and pistachio latte for Remus which had honest-to-God HEART SHAPED sprinkles dotted on the whipped cream on top. Not when Sirius had gone for a shower and had reappeared in the library with just a black tank top on as if Remus didn’t already want to set himself on fucking fire.

But it’s fine. It’s fine, Remus keeps telling himself as he presses his pen a little too hard into the paper and the ink blots. He swears quietly under his breath and scratches the word out. 

He is being ridiculous and he knows it. All he needs to do is-

Across the table, Sirius shifts slightly in his chair.

Remus is not going to look up. He is absolutely not going to look up because he has already looked up too many times and each time Sirius has noticed and looked back at him so this time Remus is going to keep his head down and-

He looks up.

Sirius is already looking back at him because of course he is and there is something in Sirius’ expression that Remus cannot get a read on. 

Remus looks away first, heat creeping up his neck, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever because Sirius was looking at him too. He looks back at his page and realises his writing is totally illegible. Brilliant. He scribbles the line out probably a little too aggressively. 

“You good?”

Remus looks back up immediately because obviously. Sirius is still watching him, one arm hooked over the back of his chair, his expression somewhere between and amused and the thing that Remus can’t work out.

“Yep,” he says, lying. 

“Sure?”

“Yes.” Remus reaches for his coffee and takes a swig. It’s freezing cold now and he grimaces. “Just getting on.”

Sirius huffs a quiet laugh. “Are you?”

“Yes!” 

Sirius tilts his head and Remus holds his breath but all he says is: “Okay.” And lets it go, which infuriates Remus even more. 

Remus stares at him for a second longer and then drops his gaze back down. ‘You could say something,’ a voice in his head insists. ‘Maybe he’s waiting for you to say something.’ But he doesn’t, just pens out another line.

It’s another quarter of an hour before Sirius moves again, pushing his chair back away from his laptop and running and hand up and down his arm, shoulders hunching slightly. 

“You’re cold,” Remus says before he can stop himself. 

Sirius glances over at him, surprised. “I’m fine.”

“Well you’re not.”

“I’m-” Sirius pauses as a small shiver betrays him. “Okay, maybe a bit.”

And Remus is unsure what possesses him to do it but suddenly he’s pulling his own jumper off over his head. He feels the cold immediately but he ignores that, holding the jumper out across the table. 

“Here.”

Sirius blinks and looks first at the jumper and then at Remus. “Oh no, you don’t have to-”

“Just take it,” Remus says, a little sharper than he means too. “Please,” he adds, “You’re shivering.”

For a moment, Remus thinks Sirius is going to refuse but then he stands and walks around the table. 

“Thanks,” he says softly, reaching a hand out and Remus passes the jumper to him.

Remus just nods, not trusting himself to speak, staring resolutely at the edge of the table. 

There’s a soft rustle of fabric as Sirius pulls the jumper on, the drag of wool against skin and Remus can’t help himself. He looks up and-

It’s- it’s his jumper. The sight of Sirius in his jumper.

Oh.

It’s too big in some places, not big enough in others. The sleeves pushed slightly up his forearms, the collar sitting a little wider at his throat, low enough that Remus can see the line of his collarbone. Sirius fingers are caught on the hem, brushing the soft, worn material between his fingers. 

Something warm and strange curls low in Remus’ stomach and he wants to look away but he can’t.

“Remus?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Remus stares up at him. “That’s my jumper.”

“I know,” Sirius looks vaguely amused. “You literally just gave it to me. Remus, are you alright?”

Something snaps.

“Not even a little bit,” Remus breathes and before he can even think he’s standing, his chair toppling over behind him and clattering on the hardwood floor. He catches Sirius around the waist, hearing his surprised gasp as he crashes their mouths together. 

Sirius makes another startled sound against his mouth which turns into a long moan as Remus runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Sirius opens up to him, leaning in, one hand coming up to Remus’ jaw, thumb pressing beneath his cheekbone, the other sliding down to his hip and hooking in the waistband of his chinos.

Remus presses closer and Sirius lets him. Or maybe Sirius pulls him closer, Remus doesn’t actually know or care. The edge of the table bumps Sirius as they move forward, although he seems to barely notice, his grip tightening on Remus' jaw. 

Remus tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his hand creeping under the jumper and feeling the warmth of Sirius’ chest under his palm, fingers brushing over a nipple and the noise Sirius makes at that-

“Fuck, stop, stop-”

Remus tears himself away abruptly, trying to take a breath. Sirius is looking at him, eyes wide, his lips swollen. 

“Oh God,” Remus groans and leans forward again pressing their lips together, small, sweet kisses as they breathe into each other's mouths. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sirius laughs breathlessly, fingers stroking at Remus’ hip. “Yeh?”

“Yes,” Remus says emphatically. “God, you’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day.”

“Says you!” Sirius says, dropping the hand from his waist and cupping Remus’ jaw with both hands. “The looks you’ve been throwing me. At one point I thought I was going to burst into flames!”

It’s Remus’ turn to exhale a laugh now. “Sorry.” He finally drops his hands. “Right,” he says. “Yes.” 

“Yes indeed,” Sirius agrees. “So we kiss now do we?”

Remus hums with a nod. “Yes. It does look that way doesn’t it.” He takes a reluctant step back. “We should probably-” he gestures to the table. “I need to do some actual work as opposed to-”

“Staring at me?” Sirius finishes for him, coy smile on his face.

“Oh shut up,” Remus sticks his tongue out, although he doesn’t deny it.

“Make me.”

Remus groans and tugs on the hem of Sirius’ - his - jumper. “Shush you. Go on. Sit.” He nudges Sirius’ chest gently and with a final laugh Sirius turns, heading back round to his chair.

Remus sits too and picks his pen up. Looks up to stare at Sirius, who is smirking down at his laptop, looks away. Looks up. Looks away. Looks back up again. Rolls his eyes at himself and finally manages to get back to work.

They both work away for the next fifteen minutes, although they catch each other glances more than once, each time looking sheepish.

Then:

“Huh,” Sirius says. “You were right.”

“About what?” 

“This jumper is the most comfortable thing ever.”

“See,” Remus says, putting his pen down and crossing his arms smugly. “I told you.”

“You did,” Sirius agrees. “And now you’re never getting it back.”

Day 24

Remus can’t stop kissing him and it’s becoming a Problem. And a genuine one at that, because it turns out that when you start kissing Sirius first thing in the morning it becomes incredibly difficult to stop doing it long enough to achieve anything actually remotely useful for the rest of the day. 

Sirius is washing up last night’s plates at the sink when Remus comes into the kitchen for breakfast. His sleeves are pushed up and his hair is falling into his eyes in a way that makes Remus’ hands itch to reach over and tuck it behind his ears and-

Well, he does just that. And then he kisses him. Just grabs the front of his sweatshirt and kisses him, properly, just like he’d been thinking about all night.

Sirius makes a surprised sound against his mouth that turns almost immediately into a laugh and kisses him back. 

“Morning, handsome,” he murmurs and Remus just has to kiss him again for that because what else is he supposed to do?

And it’s downhill from there really. Remus kisses him while he waits for the kettle to boil, kisses him while Sirius is trying to butter their toast, kisses him when Sirius gets up to grab the kitchen roll to mop up the tea Remus had dribbled down himself because he was too busy looking at Sirius. 

Sirius, for his part, is not helping. 

If anything, he’s worse. He can’t seem to stop touching Remus; a hand on Remus’ waist as Remus makes the tea, fingers brushing the inside of his wrist as he passes the marmite over, a thumb tucked briefly into the waistband of Remus’ jeans as he moves past him in the narrow space between the counter and table. At one point, as Remus attempts to make himself a glass of squash to take down the library Sirius comes up behind him and presses soft, warm lips to the back of Remus’ neck and sucks gently.

“Jesus Christ,” Remus chokes out, almost dropping the juice bottle and grips the edge of the sink. “You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what?” Sirius asks, doing it again. 

Remus turns and then he’s kissing him again, just to shut him up. 

—-------

They do eventually get to the library, although not an awful lot of work is getting done. Remus tries but Sirius sits next to him, rather than opposite and it’s pretty much game over from the start. 

He’s half attempting to order a pile of papers when Sirius leans over to look at what he’s doing and Remus tilts his head to the side without thinking and suddenly they’re kissing again. 

It happens more than once - attempt to work, fail, kiss. Try again. Work less, fail faster, kiss longer and eventually it’s Sirius who chastises him, laughing into his mouth. 

“Remus. You complained all evening that you were totally unproductive yesterday.”

“You’re distracting me,” Remus points out and then kisses him harder. 

Sirius’ hand comes up to the back of Remus’ neck, fingers curling in hair at his nape. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re making it a me problem,” Remus grouses, leaving one last kiss on the hinge of Sirius’ jaw. “Right, I’m just nipping to the loo.” 

Sirius nods and pushes his chair back to allow Remus past. And then promptly stands and follows on behind.

Remus laughs. “You don’t need to come with me.”

“I’m not,” Sirius says, entirely unconvincingly as they head down the corridor. “I just happen to be also going this way.”

Remus stops and turns to look at him. “What down this corridor that only leads to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Sirius just blinks back at him with a smile that shows his teeth and Remus rolls eyes and keeps going until he reaches the bathroom.

He pushes the door open. “You are not coming in with me.”

Sirius grins. “Coward.”

Remus pushes the door shut in his face. There’s a pause. Then a knock.

“Remus.”

“No.” 

“Remus.”

“Go away, Sirius.”

“I miss you.”

“And that sounds like a you problem.”

“Reee-mus.”

Remus presses his forehead briefly against the door, lifting a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter. “You are being ridiculous.”

“Open the door and I’ll stop.”

“You won’t.”

“...I won’t.”

Remus exhales, shaking his head, the smile on his face actually hurting it’s stretched so wide. He opens the door. 

“Hi,” Sirius says, standing right in the doorway, clearly not having moved an inch. 

Remus hooks his foot behind Sirius’ calves and knocks him forward to kiss him. 

—-------

The rest of the afternoon follows in the same vein. Sirius kisses him on the cheek so Remus kisses him on the mouth. Remus’ kisses him just below his ear, Sirius tilts his head to give him better access. Sirius kisses the corner of his jaw mid-sentence and Remus completely forgets what he’s saying as he licks into Sirius’ mouth instead. 

But what they don’t do is talk about it. Remus knows they should, knows that Sirius thinks so too from the way he falls quiet every now and then, a pensive look on his face. Once, just as they’ve finished up for the day, slumping down onto the sofa in the snug, Remus almost does but he can’t quite get the words out. Something about time, something about him leaving, something about what this might mean for them-

“Sirius-”

But Sirius is reaching for him, pulling him closer so he can press their lips together. Deflection at its finest and they both know it. 

Day 25

The next morning starts off pretty much the same. Kissing in the kitchen, kissing in the hallways, kissing in the library. 

He beats Sirius down for breakfast today and is halfway through scrambling some eggs when Sirius appears. He doesn’t even say good morning, just crosses the room and kisses him. Remus hums softly into it, free hand coming up automatically to rest at Sirius’ waist. 

And then later, just before lunch, when Remus is halfway through kissing Sirius against the wall, hands caught in the front of his t-shirt, Sirius’ fingers creeping downward towards his arse, his phone starts ringing.  

They both ignore it but it rings again. 

Sirius pulls back just enough to press his forehead briefly against Remus’ shoulder. “Ugh.”

Remus exhales against his mouth. “I should probably get that.”

“Nooo,” Sirius whines, already leaning back in. “Don’t.”

“Okay,” Remus agrees and promptly sticks his tongue back in Sirius’ mouth.

His phone rings again.

“Okay maybe you should answer,” Sirius says very begrudgingly. “It might be important.”

“It’s never important,” Remus argues but he’s already pulling his phone out his pocket with one hand, rubbing soothing circles into Sirius’ hip with the other. 

He glances at the screen. “Oh.”

Sirius still. “What?”

“It’s erm- it’s work,” Remus says.

Sirius' face does something funny. “Oh,” he says. “Right. Better answer it then.”

Remus just nods, taking a sideways step and bringing the phone up to his ear. “Hello?” 

He watches as Sirius leans back against the wall, arms folding loosely. “Hi- yes, I’m well thank you… No, that’s alright- Yes, i’ve just starting finishing up-”

He glances back at Sirius and then paces a couple of steps down the corridor. 

“Mm. Yes, I’d definitely be interested… Absolutely, that sounds-” he hesitates and then forces a smile. “That sounds great.”

“Couple of days, yes. I’ll be finished here by then, although I was hoping for a week or so off beforehand if that could be facilitated?”

He chances a look back at Sirius who is now looking down at the floor. Remus feels funny but he keeps talking with a practiced professionalism. 

“No, that’s perfect. I’d really appreciate the opportunity - thank you... Yes. Of course, send everything over and I'll have a look.”

Another pause, Sirius is now picking at a hangnail on his thumb. Remus can tell he’s going to make it bleed. 

“...sorry, what was that? Yes… yes, brilliant. Thank you so much. I’ll be in touch.”

He ends the call and lowers the phone slowly, turning it over in his hand before tucking it back into his pocket. 

When he looks up Sirius is already looking at him.

“Good news?” he asks lightly.

“Yeah,” Remus says, because it is. “It’s umm- another job. After this one.”

Sirius nods once. “Nice.”

“Yeah.” Remus shifts. “Just for a couple of weeks,” he adds. “After I finish here.”

Sirius smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course,” he says. “Got to keep our resident conservator in demand haven’t we?”

Remus huffs a quiet laugh. “Something like that.”

There’s a moment where Remus can’t quite decide what to do but then he steps forward, closing the space between them again trying to pick up where they left off. He reaches out and hooks his fingers into the waistband of Sirius’ jeans and kisses him.

Sirius kisses him back for a moment but the rhythm seems off but Remus presses closer, wondering if he’s imagining it. 

“Where is it?” Sirius pulls away.

“What? Oh- Manchester.”

“Change of scenery.”

“Yeh.” 

Remus tries to kiss him again but Sirius ducks out the way, Remus lips brushing over his cheek instead, and he starts heading towards the kitchen. “Good for you,” he says over his shoulder. “Big city. Very exciting.”

He doesn’t sound any different but something doesn’t feel right anymore. 

Remus lingers in the hallway for a second before following Sirius. “Yeh,” he says again, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

—-------

Things seem to go back to before, after lunch. They head back to the library and sit side-by-side like they have done all morning. Sirius nudges Remus’ foot under the table, Remus leans over and presses a kiss to Sirius’ cheek, then his mouth, the corner of his jaw. 

Sirius laughs, but it sounds thin. “Careful,” he says, brushing the curls off Remus’ forehead. “We’re meant to be working today.” He kisses Remus back, although his hands stay resolutely on the keys of his laptop. 

“I suppose so,” Remus agrees. Sirius kisses him one more time and turns back to the screen and Remus gets back to his filing. 

The library really is nearly finished now and Remus looks around. The piles are gone, the collapsing shelves reinforced, everything is neat and tidy. More or less anyway. Remus finds himself staring round at it for longer than necessary, something tight settling low in his chest. 

“It looks good.” Sirius’ voice makes Remus jump and Remus realises he’s talking about the library too. “I can’t believe you’re nearly done.”

“Me neither.” Remus says. “I thought-” he pauses, he doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “I don’t know what I thought,” he finishes lamely. “It was a big job.”

“A month long.” 

Then Sirius reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against Remus’ wrist. “Remus-”

Remus looks at him. “Yeh?” he whispers. 

Sirius looks back and then just shakes his head. “Nothing.” He smiles and pulls his hand away. It’s a beautiful smile, Remus thinks to himself, but it doesn’t stay. 

—-------

Later, after a quiet dinner where they’d talked about nothing really, Remus is standing by the sink rinsing the plates off and he catches sight of Sirius’ reflection in the window. He’s sat at the table, dark hair spilling over his shoulders, his pale lips parted as he scrolls on his phone. He looks perfect. 

“Hey,” Remus says, if only to see those steel grey eyes turn to look up at him. 

“Hi.” Sirius smiles and there’s a moment before he pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, making his way over to Remus. 

For a second Remus thinks that maybe they’re going to talk but instead Sirius leans in and presses a soft, careful kiss to Remus’ mouth. He pulls away far too soon. 

“Sirius-” Remus starts but Sirius just shakes his head. 

“Don’t, Remus,” he says and leans back in, allowing Remus to kiss him properly just one more time before he turns and disappears out of the kitchen.

Day 26

Remus hasn’t slept well. It took him hours to fall asleep and even then he woke several times, a heavy weight sunk low in his stomach that no matter what he tried he couldn’t get to shift. He has to drag himself out of bed, face puffy, a headache forming behind his eyes. 

Sirius is already in the kitchen when Remus gets there. He’s standing at the counter, his back to the door with a mug in his hand. Remus can smell that it’s coffee, which is strange; he’s used to Sirius making tea. He’s dressed differently, too. He looks smarter than Remus has been used too, dark trousers and a dark jumper, his hair tied back neatly. 

Remus hovers in the doorway for a second, just watching him and wondering what he should do. This time yesterday Sirius was throwing himself across the room to kiss him so Remus wonders maybe he’s waiting for him to do the same. 

He steps forward and reaches out, his fingers brushing Sirius’ waist as he leans in. Sirius turns his head but the kiss lands on the corner of his mouth instead.

“Morning,” Sirius says, turning back to take a sip of his coffee.

Remus blinks. “Morning. Erm- yeh, morning.” There’s a horrible moment of silence and Remus scrabbles around for something to say. He glances at Sirius’ mug. “You made coffee?”

“Yep.”

Another pause and Remus waits, thinking maybe Sirius will continue. He doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t reach for another mug, doesn’t offer to make Remus a drink too. He just sips at his coffee, avoiding looking at Remus. 

“Right,” Remus says, on a little huff of air. “I’ll- I’m going to make tea.”

“Sure.”

Sirius moves over and sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. Remus fills the kettle in silence, setting it on to boil and waiting. The silence is uncomfortable and Remus has a horrible feeling he’s about to cry. 

Just as the kettle clicks off Sirius clears his throat and Remus looks over at him so fast he cricks his neck. 

“I’m going to see Regulus.”

Oh. That maybe explains things. 

“I’m going to go in a minute.”

“Oh okay,” Remus says as he pours the water over the teabag. He stirs, watching the water slowly change colour. “Do you-” he starts, then stops, tries again. “Do you want… company?”

Sirius doesn’t even look at him, just carries on tapping on his phone. “No, it’s fine. James is meeting me there.”

Remus swallows the lump in his throat. “Right. Of course.”

“I’ll probably be back for lunch,” Sirius adds, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. 

Remus just nods. “Okay.”

There’s another moment where Sirius looks at him and Remus thinks he might be about to say something. But he doesn’t. He grabs his phone from the table and pockets it.

“See you later, Remus,” he says, already walking towards the door.

—-------

Remus stands in the library and looks around.  He could leave right now and it wouldn’t really make much difference, and a small part of him would really quite like to do that now he and Sirius have- 

Well, he’s not actually sure what’s up there. 

He exhales and sits, pulling a folder towards him. He can keep himself busy, there’s still bits and pieces to do he supposes. He takes out a page and smooths it flat beneath his hands to check the edges, notes a slight tear and reaches automatically for his repair tissue, tearing a strip so fine it almost disappears between his fingers. He sets it carefully and presses it down. 

That job done, he moves on trying to focus on the papers rather than getting lost in his head. It’s difficult, his mind won’t keep quiet. He can’t stop thinking about the look on Sirius’ face this morning, the coffee, the ‘No, it’s fine. James is meeting me there.’ He doesn’t know why that makes him feel like it does, he knows it’s normal for James to meet him there. Just because Remus has been once doesn’t mean-

His hand slips and the paper in his hand rips jagged at the edge. 

“Fuck,” Remus mumbles, surveying the damage. It’s irreparable.

He drops it back onto the table and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

—-------

Around oneish Remus decides he better make himself some lunch.

He makes his way to the kitchen to find Sirius there, sitting at the table, halfway through a sandwich.

Remus starts, he didn’t realise Sirius was back. 

“You’re back,” he says, blinking at him. 

Sirius glances up. “Yeh.”

“You didn’t say.”

Sirius swallows his mouthful. “Didn’t realise I had to.” 

Remus steps into the room. “I just meant- last time-”

“Last time what?” Sirius' expression is sharp and it takes Remus off guard. 

“Nothing,” he falters. “Nothing. I just- just would’ve come and said hi or something. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Sirius says. “Well, I'm back now.”

“How was it?”

Sirius laughs and there is absolutely no humour there. “Oh it was great. Love a good institutional visit.”

Remus flinches. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you meant,” Sirius interrupts. “It’s fine.”

“I wish you’d said you were back.”

Sirius really looks at him then. “Why?”

Remus blinks. “What?”

“Why? So you can ask me how I am every five minutes?”

Now that stings. “I wouldn’t-” Remus starts but Sirius cuts him off. 

“You would. You did last time.”

Remus almost wants to laugh. This whole conversation is ridiculous. “Look, I’m just trying to-”

“Well maybe don’t, yeh?”

“Right,” Remus says. “Okay.” He stands there for a second longer. “You know what? Fuck this,” he says finally, feeling the anger begin to burn in his chest. “You know where I am if you want to grow up and actually talk.” 

And he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

—-------

Remus doesn’t see Sirius for the rest of the day. He’s not even sure if he’s still in the house. He’s not around at supper time and Remus makes himself a very sad cheese sandwich and eats it in front of the tele, deliberately leaving the cheese out of the fridge in the hope it goes hard around the edges. He knows it’s petty but he doesn’t care.

He takes himself to bed early and lies there, staring at the ceiling. Sleep doesn’t come, he knew it wouldn’t. He turns onto his side, then onto his back, then back again and he can feel the anger start to bubble over. 

He drags an exhausted hand over his face because what the fuck?

He’s knows this stems from his phone call yesterday, knows that Sirius obviously has opinions about it that was some reason he is unwilling to share with Remus, knows that there is clearly something there between them that they need to fucking talk about. 

And Remus has tried. He’s tried to act normally, he’s tried to be patient, he’s tried to give Sirius space in the very limited time they have left together and not push but Sirius- Sirius has just… shut him out. As if the past couple of days, the past month, has never happened. Like it was nothing. 

Like Remus is nothing. 

Remus’ jaw tightens. Because Sirius doesn’t get to do that to him. He can’t open up to Remus like he has, flirt with Remus like he has, take Remus out on what Remus is now pretty sure was a date like he has and then kiss him for two days straight like he can’t get enough of him…

Remus squeezes his eyes shut as a hot tear drips down his cheek. “Fucking coward,” he mutters into the dark because how can Sirius just decide that it’s over?

He can’t. He doesn’t get to be the one to decide that without Remus. Remus won’t let him. 

Remus stares back up at the ceiling, jaw set because if Sirius thinks he can just-

‘Fuck him,’ Remus thinks, his resolve setting because there’s no way in hell Remus is letting this go.

Day 27

When Remus wakes his first thought is Sirius.

He feels less angry now, more a desperate need to find the man so he can make him talk, make him understand how Remus is feeling. To make sure that Remus hasn’t imagined the past few days. 

He gets dressed quickly, throwing on whatever is nearest and makes his way to the kitchen. Sirius isn’t there. Of course he isn’t, Remus realises, deflating, and he was never going to be. 

“Right,” he mutters, filling the kettle and slamming his hand down on the lid. “Fine.” 

Sure, Sirius can play this stupid game but Remus isn’t going to let him win so off he goes searching. He checks back along the corridor to where their rooms are first, but the door to his bedroom is open and the room is empty. He heads to the library next, pretty sure that’s going to be empty too and he’s right, there’s no sign of him. 

On his way through the entrance hall he takes a moment to stick his head outside; Sirius’ car is still in the driveway and he checks the garage too - his bike is where it always is. 

He’s in the house somewhere. 

—-------

He finds Sirius is one of the downstairs drawing rooms, a room Remus has never been into. It’s dark and dingy, the curtains half-drawn, the light dim and grey. Dust motes hang in the air and Remus can smell the faint tang of mold. But there Sirius is, sitting on one of the ornate sofas, his laptop open, tapping away like hasn’t a care in the world. The door creaks horrible as Remus pushes it fully open and he looks up. 

“Oh. Hi.” he says, and Remus has an almost visceral need to punch him in the face. 

Instead he grits his teeth and exhales a breath.

“Did you need something?” Sirius asks casually.

That’s it. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Remus yells.

“Wow,” Sirius says, eyes widening a fraction. “Okay.”

“Don’t you dare-” Remus steps further into the room, his anger from yesterday bubbling right back up to the surface. “Don’t okay me. You’ve been a complete arsehole all yesterday and now you’re hiding in here-”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Like fuck you’re not,” Remus gestures around the room. “You haven’t even got the fucking lights on!”

Sirius glares at him, pushing his laptop aside. “I just wanted some space, alright? It’s my bloody house.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Remus shoots back. “Space from what? From me?”

Sirius doesn’t answer, which to Remus is answer enough. He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Right,” he says, “Brilliant. Really fucking brilliant.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Remus snaps. “You’ve made it pretty clear.”

Sirius stands and he looks angry now too. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?!” Remus fires back. “It’s you who won’t even speak to me! You fucking bit my head of yesterday when I asked about Regulus-”

“No I didn’t.”

“You did!” Remus refuses to let Sirius deny it. “And now you’re pretending like the past few days haven’t happened, like none of it means anything!”

Sirius drags a hand through his hair. “You’re making this into a bigger deal than it is.”

“Oh my God,” Remus laughs again and shakes his head. “You are unbelievable. What did you think was going to happen, Sirius? That I'd just quietly pack up and leave and we’d never talk about it?”

“Well you are leaving!”

Remus scoffs. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Isn’t it?” Sirius’ voice is loud. “Because from where I'm standing that seems like a pretty big fucking point, Remus.”

“Good Christ, Sirius.” Remus lets out a breath. “So this is what this is about? You’re just going to decide how this ends without even- what? Asking me? Talking to me?”

“What is there to talk about? You got another job. You’re going. That’s- that’s how this works. You come, fix that fucking shitshow of a library and then you leave.”

All Remus can do is stare at him. “That’s your takeaway from this?”

“Well that is what’s happening,” Sirius says more petulantly now. “You were always going to leave.” And something in the way he says it, not so much angry but tight and brittle makes Remus falter for half a second. “It’s fine,” Sirius continues, “It’s fine. It’s what I knew would happen. I’m used to it.”

“No,” Remus says firmly. “No. You don’t get to do that.”

Sirius looks at him. “Do what?”

“Push me away before I've even had a chance to-” Remus cuts himself off, frustrated. “You’ve been acting like a complete dick and you won’t even tell me why.”

“I just told you why! You’re leaving, it’s the pattern, that’s what people do!”

“I am not people!”

“Well what the hell are you then?!”

“I’m me! Argh!” Remus takes a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “All I want is to have an actual conversation with you, about everything, about us, and you’re too busy deciding what you think is happening to even listen to what I might think.”

Sirius looks at him, something flickering - doubt maybe - but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “What is there to talk about?” he says instead. “You’re not about to tell me you’re not leaving. You’re going to go and I’m still going to be here.”

“And?” Remus presses.

“And that’s it!” Remus can hear his frustration. “That’s how this ends!”

“Only if you fucking let it! Sirius-” Remus takes a step forward and it’s now or never, he thinks. “Do you want me?”

The room seems to go very still and then Sirius lets out a hollow laugh. “What does it matter?”

Remus wants to scream at him. He clenches his fists, unclenches them. “What does it matter? Seriously?!”

“It doesn't change anything whether I want this or not,” Sirius says, although his voice is quieter now. “I’m still stuck here in this house that I fucking hate-” his voice catches for a second, “-and the only thing that’s made it even remotely bearable here is leaving.” He looks away, like he’s annoyed with himself for saying it out loud. “So no, I don’t see the point in pretending that this-” he gestures between them, “is something that it’s not.”

Remus’ chest tightens. “Pretending?” he repeats, incredulous. “You think this is pretending?”

“I think-” Sirius stops, takes a sharp breath in, “I was stupid enough to let myself hope that this could have been something that wouldn’t end.”

“Oh my God,” the words come tumbling from Remus’ mouth and he’s almost laughing. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Long distance relationships exist, you know.”

“Yes, but-” Sirius trips over the words. “What?”

“People don’t just-” Remus waves his hand between them, “They don't just give up because someone has to go somewhere else for a bit! They talk, they make plans, they try-”

“You don’t even know if you’d want that,” Sirius cuts in defensively, clearly grasping for something solid.

“Oh fuck right off!” Remus almost shouts. “I am literally standing right here trying to ask for it and you’re not fucking listening to me!”

And for the first time since they started this argument, or whatever it was, Remus can see that Sirius is cracking. He stares at him, eyes wet, pulling at his fingers with his hands. 

“I just-” he says finally, voice wobbly. “I just didn’t think you’d-”

“You didn’t think I'd what?”

“Want that.” And it’s barely above a whisper. “Not properly. Not for me.”

Any anger Remus was still harbouring drains out of him at the dejection in Sirius’ voice and he takes another step forward, gently taking Sirius’ hands in his own. 

“You didn’t even give me the chance to ask.”

Sirius bursts into tears. Small, heart breaking sobs that make Remus want to gather him up in his arms and take all the pain away. 

“Sirius-”

“Why though?” he asks, looking at Remus, his eyes glittering with tears. “I’m a fucking disaster, and you’re-”

“What?” Remus interrupts, reaching up to brush the tears away. “And I'm easy?”

Sirius huffs a small laugh. “Fair.”

Remus tugs him closer. “God you’re so fucking infuriating.”

Sirius lets out another small, broken sob, though he’s smiling. “Yeh, I've been told.”

“Why didn’t you just say something?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I just- after that call- I got stuck in my head and I figured it would be easier to just- it was easier than hoping for something and then having my heart broken.”

“So you’d figured you’d break both of ours instead?”

Sirius' face crumples again. “I’m so sorry-”

“I know,” Remus says, his own breath hitching. “Promise me you won't do that again though?”

“I promise that’ll try. Honestly, I don’t know why I-”

Remus kisses him, pulling him in, one hand cupping Sirius’ jaw, the other other sliding around his waist, tugging him closer. 

It’s messy and desperate and hot. Remus pushes the last of his anger into it, nipping at Sirius’ lower lip until Sirius makes a soft, wrecked sound against his mouth and deepens the kiss, hands gripping Remus’ shoulder.

When they break apart they’re both breathing hard. 

Sirius drops his forehead to Remus’ shoulder. 

“I think I've fallen in love with you,” he says and he sounds wretched. “I know it’s stupid and I know that you probably don’t feel the same. It’s too fast and-”

Remus kisses him again.

“Shut up,” he says into Sirius’ mouth. “I love you too.”

—-------

“Maybe I could come to Manchester with you?” Sirius says, snuggling closer into Remus’ side and tangling their legs together. “I’ve never been. It’s a cool city, apparently.”

They’re sitting curled up together in the snug, tea and toast on the table in front of them in lieu of a proper lunch. They’d stayed in the library for what felt like hours; talking, not talking and then Remus had had a little cry of his own which had promptly set Sirius off again. And they’d kissed and kissed and kissed, until their lips were sore and swollen and until neither of them could quite remember what to do with themselves. 

Remus lets his head tip sideways, resting it against Sirius’. “You can come to Manchester with me,” he says. “Although what about what you need to do here?”

“I don’t need to do anything here,” Sirius says. “I haven’t been organised enough to sort anything else being done.” He gives a little hum, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns against Remus’ knee. “I’ll come,” he says. “Might as well make the most of being able to work from anywhere.”

Remus turns his head to look at him. “You work?”

Sirius laughs. “Yes!” He pokes Remus in the side. “What the hell do you think I've been doing in the library all month?!”

“I thought you were doing- I dunno- house shit,” Remus admits. “Like weird inheritance stuff or something.”

“Weird inheritance stuff? What even is that?”

“I don’t know!” 

Sirius laughs again. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” Remus says pouting. “Oh God, I can’t believe I don’t even know what my boyfriend does for a living.”

“What?” Sirius turns to look at him properly, hand stilling on Remus’ leg. 

Remus immediately feels a flush start to creep up his neck. He hadn’t even taken note of what he was saying. “Well- I mean-” he gestures vaguely at the sofa, refusing to make eye contact. “That seems like a good word to use.”

He bites his lip and then feels two warm hands gently cupping his jaw and his head is being tilted upward. Sirius' eyes are bright when Remus finally acquiesces and looks up. 

“Boyfriend?” he asks softly.

Remus swallows. “Yes? I mean, if you want to be?”

Sirius’ answering smile is everything Remus needs it to be. “Yeh,” he says. “I want it to be.” And he leans in and kisses Remus, quick little presses of his lips all over Remus face. 

“Good,” Remus laughs, batting Sirius off. “Glad we’ve sorted that out.”

Sirius gives him one last, loud kiss on the lips and nudges their noses together. “So,” he carries on, “My very official boyfriend thought I was what- just sitting in the library with him all day for fun?”

“I don’t know! For all I knew you were playing computer games!”

“Rude,” Sirius says, though he’s smiling. “I’m a graphic designer, actually.”

Remus stares at him. “Are you?!”

“Yes! I’ve got my own business!”

“Oh,” Remus says stupidly. Because he has Thoughts about this. He figures he might as well share them. “That’s fucking hot.”

Sirius, who is midway through taking a sip of tea, chokes on a laugh. “What?”

“It is!” Remus insists. “That’s such a cool job, all creative and mysterious. With all the cool fonts and stuff.”

“I-” Sirius is still laughing. “I do own multiple fonts. Didn’t realise that would get you going.”

“Well, it does,” Remus says resolutely. “Hot.”

“If you say so, babe.” And Remus doesn’t even have a chance to spiral about the pet name because Sirius is kissing him again, deeper this time, lingering before he pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk. “So I’ll come to Manchester. Do you have anything booked after that?”

“No.” Remus slides a hand over to tug Sirius’ wrist into his lap. “Just back to London for a bit. I have something at the start of October, maybe I can come back here beforehand.” He pauses, “And then you could come back with me to London too, for a bit. If you want. My flat is tiny but I’m sure we could figure something out.”

“We can just stay at mine if it’s an issue,” Sirius says casually. “Mine’s pretty big.”

“What’s pretty big?”

Sirius looks at him as though he doesn’t understand the question. “My flat.”

Remus drops his wrist. “You have a flat?” he asks slowly.

“Yes?”

“You have a flat in London?” 

“Yes.”

Remus stares at him. “What the hell, Sirius?!”

“What?!”

“You didn’t think to mention this when you were having a full on existential crisis about how it would be impossible for us to be together?!”

Sirius winces. “In my defence-”

“No!” Remus cuts him off. “No defence. You have a flat in London.”

“It’s a nice flat,” Sirius mumbles unhelpfully.

“I bet it bloody is! Good Christ, Sirius. Un-fucking-believable.” He grabs Sirius round the waist and hauls him into his lap. Sirius allows it, laughing as he settles between Remus’ legs. 

“So you don’t want to come and live with me in my very nice flat?”

Remus stops jostling him, there’s something in Sirius' voice that makes it sound like he’s trying to be causal and failing. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“No, I'm just suggesting that when we’re in London we live in my flat and you never go home to yours ever again.”

“My flat is gross,” Remus admits. “It’s always damp.”

“I have great underfloor heating in the bathroom.”

“You’re asking me to move in with you.”

“Okay so maybe I am. What about it?”

“Oh nothing,” Remus runs his thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip. “Just working out how many weeks notice I need to give.”

Sirius’ whole face lights up in a way that Remus thinks he’s fast becoming addicted too. 

“Okay,” he says, a little breathless. “Okay, good.”

They sit there for a moment, lips pressed together slowly until Sirius breaks away and tucks his head in the crook of Remus’ neck. 

Remus kisses the top of his head. “We can come back here whenever I'm not working. And weekends and stuff. You can show me all the things that still need doing.”

Sirius groans. “Everything still needs doing. I don’t actually know what I want to do with the house. Regulus says he doesn’t care and there’s no-one else left to have an opinion. Unless you count my crazy cousins, which I don’t.”

Remus hums thoughtfully. “I’ve always fancied being Lord of the Manor.”

Sirius snorts. “I see.”

“I have!” Remus says. “I think I'd be very excellent at it.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.”

“I would,” Remus says magnanimously. “I’d be very bossy and demanding.”

“With who?!”

“The staff,” Remus says immediately.

“What staff?!”

“The staff we’ll obviously have when I'm Lord of the Manor,” Remus replies. “God, Sirius. Keep up.”

Sirius throws his head back and laughs, loud and unguarded. Remus grins. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sirius says. “God I love you.” He reaches out and brushes his thumb along Remus’ cheek. “Kiss me.”

And Remus doesn’t have to be asked twice. 

Day 28

Remus wakes slowly, all warmth and that heavy kind of drowsiness that seeps into your bones. At first he just drifts, enjoying the feeling of sleep pulling him back in until he registers the weight of an arm slung lazily across his waist, the faint, steady rhythm of breath at the back of his neck. 

He stays still for a moment and lets the smile spread across his face. The memories of last night flicker through his mind - the laughter, hands everywhere, the heat of skin pressed against skin. He realises his whole body is deliciously sore and he has to tamp down the euphoric laugh that’s threatening to escape. 

He fails, stretching out his legs to try and contain the joy that’s flooding through him. 

“Morning,” Sirius murmurs, voice rough with sleep. 

Remus huffs a laugh. “You’re awake.”

“Have been for a bit,” Sirius says, shifting closer, letting his leg slip between Remus’ thighs as he presses his face briefly into the back of Remus’ neck. “You smell nice.”

Remus turns carefully in Sirius arms, rolling onto his other side. Sirius looks gorgeous. Hair a complete mess, eyes still heavy-lidded and a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. Remus is just about dying. 

He reaches up to brush a stray curl back from his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sirius replies and he leans in and kisses him, slow and unhurried, like they’ve got all the time in the world. Which they have, now, Remus reminds himself. 

Remus hums into it, sliding a hand up Sirius bare side, letting it roam across his back and when they part Sirius stays close, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I’m so happy you’re not leaving today.”

Remus smiles. “Me too.” He nudges their noses together. “Although I should probably pack up all my work shit.”

“Ugh,” Sirius groans, arching his back with a satisfying crack. “Yeh. I’ll help and then we can go for lunch somewhere.”

Remus sighs happily. “That sounds perfect.”

“I’m going to carry all the heavy stuff,” Sirius continues. “Really impress you.”

Remus, who was busy mouthing at Sirius' collarbone cracks one eye open. “You think I'm not already impressed?”

Sirius grins back at him, slow and cocky. “After last night? I know you are.”

Remus snorts and bites down gently. “Arrogant twat.”

The moan Sirius lets out is enough to set Remus’ head spinning.

They lie there was a little longer, kissing, touching, just drinking each other in and then Sirius says:

“Can I see if James can come? To lunch? I’d really like you to meet him.”

Remus stills slightly. “Yeh?”

“Yes,” Sirius says. “And also because he’s been going on at me about you. He keeps texting me asking if you’re imaginary.”

“Well, I don't think I'm imaginary,” Remus says. “And of course you can invite him. I’d like to meet him too.”

“He’s going to love you.”

“I hope so,” Remus says. “Because I'm not planning on going anywhere.”

Sirius' mouth curves into another blinding smile. “Good. You’re mine now.”

Remus exhales, sinking back into the pillows and Sirius drapes an arm back over his chest.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll text him in a bit. But first-”

He tilts his head up slightly, brushing his lips against the bottom of Remus’ jaw.

“-five more minutes.”

Remus shifts, huffs a soft laugh against his lips. 

“Minimum.”