It had been an exhausting day. Remus stumbled through the door of Grimmauld Place, his fingers trembling as he fished a cigarette from the crumpled pack in his pocket. Lately, stress had coiled around him like a vice. Six months ago, he’d seen Sirius again—after twelve long, hollow years—and the sight of him had cracked something open inside Remus. They were together again now, lovers rekindled, and it was good. More than good. For the first time in over a decade, Remus felt the jagged edges of his soul begin to mend. But then there were nights like this, when Sirius’s tear-streaked confessions about Azkaban echoed in his mind, and the weight of those twelve lonely years crashed back. His closest friends—James, Lily, Peter—were all dead or lost to him. Mary, the last one left other than him, had obliviated herself after seeing Marlene on the news. He’d pushed Grant away too, burying the pain deep. Now, it clawed its way back to the surface. Before he realized it, half the pack was gone, the ash piling up like the years he’d lost.
Sirius arrived home not long after, his voice soft but warm as it cut through the haze. “Hey, love,” he said, stepping inside. Remus turned, pulling the cigarette from his lips, the smoke curling upward like a ghost. “Hey, Siri.” Sirius’s eyes flickered to the cigarette, and though he didn’t say it outright, Remus could feel the irritation simmering beneath his concern. Sirius knew it was a crutch—had always known—but it still gnawed at him. “Smoking again? You’re killing yourself, Moony.”
Remus rolled his eyes, a flicker of defiance masking the guilt. “Like you didn’t used to light up every day.” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be. Sirius’s brow furrowed, his tone firm but laced with worry. “We’re older now, Remus. And I hate how much you lean on it.” Frustrated, Remus turned away, staring at the wall as if it could swallow the tension between them. Sirius’s voice softened, pleading now. “Please, Moony, I can’t stand watching you hurt yourself like this.” Remus stayed silent, his back still turned, but Sirius pressed on, his words trembling with raw emotion. “If you die before me, I—I don’t know what I’d do. You’re everything to me. Without you…”
That broke through. Remus turned back, his hazel eyes meeting Sirius’s stormy gray ones. “I’m sorry, Pads,” he murmured, voice thick with regret. “I don’t know what I’d do if you left either.” Sirius stepped closer, his hand rising to cup Remus’s cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding them both. “I promise, Moony, I’ll never leave you.” Their lips met then, soft and tender, a quiet vow sealed in the stillness.
Months slipped by, and Remus fought to cut back on the cigarettes. Some days, his mind still spiraled into dark corners, but mostly, he managed. Harry had just left for his fifth year at Hogwarts, taking the rest of the Order with him, leaving Sirius and Remus alone in the creaking old house. They lay tangled in bed one night, Remus’s arm draped protectively around Sirius, his fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “Moony,” Sirius whispered, his voice barely audible, “I never want to leave you again.”
“Me neither,” Remus replied, his heart swelling. Sirius shifted, hesitating, his breath hitching as if wrestling with something big. Then, abruptly, he sat up, his gaze locking onto Remus’s. “Remus, can we get married?” The words hung in the air, fragile and electric. Remus blinked, a smile breaking across his face—maybe even a blush—and he stood to meet Sirius’s height. “Of course we can,” he said, pulling him into a kiss that tasted like hope.
They didn’t bother with legalities. After the war, they’d have a proper wedding, they decided—something real, something theirs. For now, they were married in every way that mattered. Christmas came, and Number 12 Grimmauld Place filled with life again as Harry and the Order arrived. Remus watched from the sidelines as Harry threw his arms around Sirius, their bond a bittersweet ache in his chest. He wanted to be more to Harry—more than just the old professor lurking in the shadows—but he’d never bridged that gap. He regretted it, though he knew why he’d kept his distance: Harry’s eyes, so like Lily’s, stirred memories Remus had spent years trying to bury.
At the table, the Order toasted Harry for saving Arthur, Molly’s stern voice cutting through as she scolded Sirius for wanting to tell Harry too much. Remus sat beside Sirius, his hand resting on his thigh beneath the table, a quiet anchor. Only Kingsley and Snape knew about them—Kingsley had pieced it together, and Snape… well, Snape had known since they were boys. Harry’s voice broke through the chatter, tentative but curious. “What was he like? My father.”
Sirius’s face softened, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he drifted into memory. “James was the best friend I ever had. Always there when you needed him. Hell, he took me in when I ran away.” Harry leaned forward. “Why did you run away?” Sirius’s smile faltered, shadows creeping into his eyes. “My family… they didn’t take kindly to anyone who defied their pureblood nonsense. They wanted me to join Voldemort. I said no.” His voice grew distant, and Remus’s grip on his thigh tightened. He could still see it—Sirius crumpled on the Potters’ floor, broken and bleeding, the night he’d escaped with Regulus’s help all those years ago. Sirius pressed on, masking the pain, and Remus’s silent touch steadied him. Harry nodded, sensing the shift, and deftly changed the subject.
Winter faded into spring, then summer. The Order scattered, and Grimmauld Place was theirs again. They kissed, held each other, talked late into the night, and made love with a desperation to reclaim every lost second of those twelve years. June 17th dawned, the Hogwarts term nearing its end. Remus woke early, smiling at Sirius’s sleeping form beside him. He loved him—God, how he loved him. Slipping downstairs, he brewed coffee, knowing Sirius would stumble down groggy and useless without it. That sleepy, whiny version of him was equal parts adorable and infuriating, and Remus wouldn’t trade it for anything.
By mid-morning, Sirius was awake, three cups deep, sprawled across Remus’s lap as they watched a Muggle film. Remus’s fingers wove absently through Sirius’s curls, the familiar weight of him a comfort. Evening crept in, and then chaos erupted. The door burst open, an Order member’s voice slicing through the calm. “Harry’s in trouble—Death Eaters, Department of Mysteries!” They Apparated in a heartbeat, the battle unfolding in a blur of curses and screams. They were holding their own—until a flash of green light seared across Sirius’s chest. His eyes, wide with shock, met Remus’s for a fleeting second before he fell. Dead.
Remus’s world shattered. He wanted to scream, to sob, to tear the universe apart, but Harry was there, breaking, and Remus held him instead, swallowing his own grief as Harry’s cries filled the void. The rest blurred—faces, spells, retreat. Sirius was gone. he had left him, Again For the second time.
That night, Remus lay in Sirius’s bed, staring at the ceiling as silent tears carved rivers down his face. His husband, the man he’d loved through every storm, was dead. They were supposed to have a wedding—a real one, with laughter and vows. He’d promised. Remus’s chest heaved, a sob breaking free. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I promise, Moony, I’ll never leave you.” Sirius’s voice echoed in Remus’s skull, a cruel phantom of a vow that had once been his lifeline. It was the last tether he clung to as he sat alone in their bed—the bed that still smelled of Sirius’s cedar-and-smoke scent, the bed where they’d whispered dreams of a future that would never come. His trembling fingers clutched his wand, the wood worn smooth from years of battles fought side by side with the man he’d loved more than life itself. Now, it was cold, lifeless, just like the hollow cavern of his chest.
Sirius was gone. Dead. The green light had stolen him in an instant, leaving Remus with nothing but the memory of his gray eyes—wide with shock, then empty—haunting every corner of this cursed house. Twelve years apart, they’d endured, only to be granted a fleeting handful of months before fate ripped them asunder again. The laughter, the tender kisses, the quiet mornings tangled in each other’s arms—it was all ash now, scattered by a promise broken not by choice, but by a world too cruel to let them keep it.
Remus’s breath hitched, a sob clawing its way up his throat as tears blurred his vision. He saw Sirius everywhere—in the curl of smoke from the cigarette he’d never light again, in the worn leather jacket slung over the chair, in the empty space beside him where a heartbeat should have been. “You promised,” he whispered to the silence, his voice cracking, raw with anguish. “You promised me, Pads.” But the silence didn’t answer. It never would.
He raised the wand to his chin, the tip trembling against his skin. His heart thundered, not with fear, but with a bone-deep ache for the boy who’d once chased him through Hogwarts corridors, the man who’d held him through moonlit nightmares, the husband who’d sworn forever. “I can’t do this without you,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face, pooling in the hollows of his grief-worn features. “I don’t want to.”
“Avada Kedavra,” he breathed, the words barely a whisper, a final surrender to the unbearable weight of a world without Sirius. The green flash was soft, almost gentle, as it took him—reuniting him at last with the only soul who’d ever made him whole. The wand slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor, and the silence swallowed them both.