“We have learned that trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain, and body. This imprint has ongoing consequences for how the human organism manages to survive in the present. Trauma results in a fundamental reorganization of the way mind and brain manage perceptions. It changes not only how we think and what we think about, but also our very capacity to think.”
― Bessel A. van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma
The sentence had made all the sense, but at the same time, it had been meaningless to Sirius Black. He had read about what trauma was, how it changed people, and how it affected how they acted, thought, and even breathed. Sirius had known all of that firsthand. He had indeed survived a war as well. For some time, he had chosen to ignore it all.
He had been just sixteen when the war in the United Kingdom had started. It had started a civil war that could have turned into WWIII really fast. Almost as if England had birthed out a Hitler 2.0, with the same idealistic ideas of ethnic cleansing—only this time, it had been about cleansing England of anyone whom Tom Riddle hadn’t considered a “pure-blood” English person. It had started small, Sirius remembered.
There were talks in his boarding school about a strange man with even stranger ideas. What was terrifying was that not everyone had thought of him as strange. Many people had agreed with his beliefs and had started becoming his supporters. Sirius hadn’t paid much attention as Peter rambled about it. Peter’s parents were quite paranoid people and had often overreacted. Sirius’s parents had been the opposite. Not only had they not cared about the possible war, but they had also stood on the wrong side as well. So, Sirius had kept quiet.
Not that his silence hadn’t been suspicious. Remus, his best friend since he was eleven, had caught onto it. As Peter talked, Sirius felt a shaky hand touch his own that was resting on his thigh. For a split second, both of them froze. Sirius thanked God for making Peter as sweet and oblivious as he had because the poor boy hadn’t noticed a thing. As soon as Sirius relaxed and turned his hand inwards, lacing their fingers, Remus relaxed too. A sliver of a smile graced his face before it disappeared.
Sirius remembered the way Remus would never smile so broadly as he had. There were only moments of shy grins and soft giggles he recalls from that time. Soon there was no laughter. Only cries as the first bombs were dropped. The queen died and the war began.
Throwing yet another book on the pile of books on the ground next to him, Sirius groaned as he stretched his arms over his body. He was in his early thirties now, finally ready to face his trauma. He read numerous books, changed around five therapists, and went to a dozen meetings for people affected by the war, and nothing helped.
“War is not just about bombs and bullets. It is about the scars it leaves on the heart.” Sirius remembered reading that in Le Ly Hayslip’s novel. It was the truth. Sirius didn’t have any physical scars like many other people had, but they still ached and he had no idea how to treat them. His last plan was books, thinking there must have been someone who felt the way he did. But perhaps, his situation seemed too specific for any author to understand.
He was debating on closing his eyes, knowing well, that the nightmare was soon to follow. Still, the nightmares were the only place he seemed to exist. So, he closed his eyes.
Out of breath, Sirius placed his hand on his knees as his dry throat was begging for water. He was about to tell Peter to slow down, but then he heard it. Remus. He was yelling something. It was hard to hear the words clearly, but Sirius would recognize that voice anywhere.
“He's calling for us!” Sirius yelled, turning around to run back the way they just arrived.
“Stop!” Peter grabbed his wrist, grounding him in place.
“What?” Sirius obeyed for a split second, noticing the fearful look on Peter’s face. “He gave me a code,” he sputtered out after taking in a few deep breaths. They were surrounded by tall trees as they chose to separate from their group just a few minutes ago. There were talks about some people who were helping out civilians, especially the ones Riddle and his followers were hunting. They got lost in the woods and were trying to find their station which could have been too far from their current location.
“Before we separated, he gave me a code,” he let go of Sirius’s arm as he looked down at the ground.
“Code for what?” The long-haired boy asked, his eyes desperately searching for the answer on Peter’s body as if it was taped on his clothes.
“In case of a trap.” The broken voice muttered, and soon Sirius’s heart broke too.
“And I'm supposed to believe you? You're funny, Wormy,” Sirius joked still in complete denial. He managed to only take two steps, before the chubby hand grabbed him again. “Stop, Pads. I'm being serious.”
“You saw us talking before we separated, that's when he came up with the code word,” his lips were shaking as he confessed, and tears were pooling in his eyes. Still, Sirius couldn’t believe it. He started shaking his head, as he ripped Peter’s hand from his body.
”So, what? We are supposed just to leave him?!”
“He would want us,” Peters started before Sirius interrupted. “No!” His scream echoed and it visibly terrified Peter. Either he was scared of Sirius, or of who else could have heard his voice.
“Sirius, please,” he begged yet again.
“No! I'm not leaving him!” Sirius’s whole body was tensing as he could feel his blood starting to boil. He was getting angrier and angrier as the moments passed. He wasn’t sure who he was angry with; Peter for begging him to stay, himself for even agreeing to get separated from the other part of the group, or Tom Riddle for starting this war in the first place.
“Sirius, he would want us to go,” yet again Peter got interrupted. “But,” Sirius started, only for Peter to interrupt him this time. He grabbed both of his wrists and looked him straight into his eyes. “You knew him the best. You know how much he," the shorter of the two paused, swallowing down, looking away as well, before continuing, "How much he cared about you.”
“I know it, too,” Peter’s gaze found his yet again. Sirius felt naked in the middle of the woods. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining, or if the heat was getting to him. But it felt like Peter was telling him he knew about how much two of his best friends truly cared about each other.
“Peter, I swear to God,” Sirius started, now tears with pools collecting in his eyes.
“Please, Sirius! Please!” Peter’s tone got louder, and louder with each word. “We are only a 15-minute walk from him!” The other boy desperately tried reasoning yet again.
“And we would be 15 minutes too late! They're probably on their way to catch us now! And even if we were to go and try to save him, we are 15 minutes away…” The sweet Peter Sirius knew didn’t stand in front of him. It was like the war had stripped him of the mask and his true self had appeared; cold and truthful.
“I don't want to say it, but you know, the second he stopped yelling…” Peter’s voice quivered.
“No, no! Don't say that! He's not…! No!” Sirius had physically pushed his friend away from him, almost making him fall. He could feel the panic settling in, as his breath became labored, his limb numb, and his vision blurry. However, the blurry vision could be the cause of the tears he was desperately fighting.
“Siri…” Peter’s voice made Sirius look at him once again. His friend looked at him, defeated and broken as well. “We have to go. He would want us to live for him,”
Standing there, in the middle of nowhere, covered by only green leaves, Sirius felt hopeless. Instead of walking towards him, as Peter had hoped, Sirius laughed. Peter swallowed deeply and tilted his head in confusion.
“Bullshit,” Sirius let out a dry chuckle.
“What?”
“That's a load of crap people say to feel better about themselves. They can’t cope with that person being gone so they make themselves believe it was for the better, or they're not in any pain anymore. They feel guilty for not trying to save them, so they say “Oh, they would want me to live the life they hoped I would have,” Sirius mocked. “It's bullshit.”
“Sirius,” Now Peter wasn’t begging. It sounded like an order, almost as a threat.
“You said I knew him the best. Well, I know he would give his life to save mine. I can't just leave-”
A few shots echoing interrupted Sirius. Even though it was just an echo, a few miles away, Peter still went down, covering his head in order to shield it from all and any danger.
Sirius didn't. Just a few more seconds after, another round of shots was fired. Sirius let out a labored breath, as tears started streaming down his face. At that moment, he knew. It was like a part of him, part of his existence was ripped away from him.
Remus was dead.
He didn’t remember much afterward. Peter must have dragged him away from that hill. He remembered meeting some people, not that he talked, Peter did. He, also, remembered being on a boat with no idea what the destination was. He didn’t remember speaking much; eating or drinking either. He just breathed. That was a task as well. Sometimes it felt like his mind had to remind his body to breathe because there was only one word his mind was focusing on.
Remus.
Remus.
Remus.
Remus.
“You still think of him,” James’s voice woke him from his dream-like state. He realized he wasn’t truly asleep, just replaying that day like a bad record player.
“Who?” he dumbly asked.
“You know who,” James gently said as he pushed his body from the doorframe. He jumped on the bed next to him, grabbed the nearest book, and skimmed through it. Sirius still lay on the bed, his head on the soft pillows, while James was in a sitting position, his back against the bedframe as his legs were stretched and crossed.
Sirius met James in university. Sometimes he wonders if he would be here if it weren’t for James. He was his lifeline when nothing else made sense. James didn’t understand his PTSD or what it was to experience war. He was born in London but moved to Sevilla, his mother's hometown when he was ten. It was quite a strange thing to think about.
Even though he was the same age as Sirius, grew up in the same city as him, walked the same street, and ate ice cream cones in the same parols, they didn’t live the same life. Sirius was glad. James was too pure for a thing like war.
“Sometimes,” Sirius finally answered. “When the weather is moody and rain starts falling, not the heavy kind, but the one that makes you want to curl up next to a window and watch the raindrops race down the glass. Or, when I see a book, like an old, dusty book in a corner of a cafe, or someone's house. When I make a cup of coffee, but make it a bit too strong, or see a box of chocolates. That's when I think of him.”
“Why then?” James closed the book and looked down at Sirius. His best friend smiled gently before explaining.
“You know how I always say you shine?”
“Yeah,” James nodded.
“Well, he was the opposite, I guess. But not in a bad way,” Sirius tried putting it into words. “You make me excited and he made me calm.”
The use of the past tense killed him each time he talked about Remus.
“My life wasn't as calm back then. There were days when I would have these nightmares, and he would sneak into my bed, and tuck me in his chest. For some reason, it always worked. Then the next day, he would pretend it never happened,” Sirius giggled, as he remembered those days.
“Yikes.” The sound made Sirius laugh louder now.“No, no, it was a good thing. He knew I would feel uncomfortable, so he acted like it never happened.”
James seemed more content now. Sometimes he didn’t know what to say when Sirius talked about Remus or his trauma, but that was the one part Sirius loved. He didn’t pretend to know what he was going through, better said he had no idea, but he was still there next to him. James scooted over, close enough that Sirius could lay his head on his lap. His messy, black curls lay on his lap, and James couldn’t resist running his fingers through them.
“I think we would have gotten along,” he muttered.
“For sure,” Sirius imagined how wonderful his teenage years would have been if he had Remus, Peter, and James next to him.
“So, I gather he liked to read and eat chocolate, and took his coffee strong,” James reminded him of the original topic, and Sirius soon switched back.
“He had more books in our dorm than in our local library,” Sirius responded in a matter-of-fact voice, which made James chuckle. “I'm not even kidding, we checked.”
“And he had chocolate bars in his pockets, always,” yet another grin grazed Sirius’s face. It seemed to be something that reflexively happened as soon as he remembered his early years with Remus.
“And whenever we would have a weekend pass, we would go to this tiny town next to our school. We picked a new cafe each time until we tried them all, and I would always try to act like a grown-up, so I would order coffee.”
“But, you hate coffee,” James added.
“Indeed. I think I was at fault for his coffee addiction. I would order coffee, he would order tea. Two sips in, I would want to trade. And he did. Each time without complaining.”
The smile soon faded. Back then he didn’t have the strength to say it out loud. Now he would scream it at the top of his lungs. He loved Remus John Lupin.
“I'm sorry,” a peck was left in the middle of Sirius’s forehead.
“There was nothing we could have done. Even if we knew each other back then, even if you were next to me at that moment, all we could do was run.”
He kept repeating to himself that as well. There was nothing he could have done. Still, he knew he would regret that moment and love Remus John Lupin for the rest of his life.
To say Sirius knew how he ended up in Bern a few months after his conversation with James, would be an utter lie. He booked the flight one late December morning and was on the plane the same afternoon with nothing but one bag. It was rare Sirius traveled. Perhaps that was too connected with his PTSD, but he didn’t bother thinking about it now while walking down the beautiful streets of Switzerland. The snow had fallen the previous night, covering the ground completely.
Perhaps it was the combination of slippery ground or his wandering eye that he managed to bump into a very tall individual. The stranger’s hand grabbed his waist, securing him into his chest, and not allowing him to fall down. As Sirius was about to apologize in Swiss with an embarrassingly terrible accent, he looked up at the man only to be left speechless.
The light brown hair was messily tucked under a hand, but the curs still peaked at the sides. The gray scarf covered most of the lower part of his face, making his hazel eyes the only truly visible feature. But those eyes were more than enough for Sirius to recognize him.
“Black,” he said coldly, as he removed his hand from his waist and took a step back.
“Moony,” Sirius almost wept.
“You’re alive,” Sirius muttered, still in shock. Remus's brows furrowed, but he still replied.
“Yes.”
His voice sounded almost the same. More mature, and rougher around the ages, but it was still his Moony. The one who would mutter empty nothingness into his ears to distract him from bad thoughts, the same Moony would read to him and caress his hair.
“I thought you… God all these years…” Sirius didn’t know how to feel. He thought he might be dreaming. There was no other logical explanation. But all his dreams of Remus turned into a nightmare, and this dream seemed too bright for one.
One other factor that made this situation seem the same as Sirius’s dreams was the fact that Moony didn’t have the same look in his eyes when he started at Sirius. His eyes were too dark, almost void of happiness. Remus seemed to be mad and Sirius, while Sirius was too oblivious about it. Sirius was still in a state of shock when Remus barked at him.
“Don't play pretend, Black,” his jaw tensed.
“Moony,” Sirius whispered as he gently smiled, flustered by the tone of his voice. In the seven years they had spent sharing one dorm, Remus had never yelled at Sirius. He had almost never yelled at anyone, but especially not as Sirius. Remus shut his eyes for a split second before he turned around, ready to walk away.
“Wait! You can't just live like this!” Sirius screamed, catching the attention of the bypassers. Still, it worked. Remus stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned his body towards Sirius
“Why not?” He smirked, almost mockingly. Sirius took a deep breath composing himself, before he continued.
“I get you probably haven't thought for me since we were sixteen, but I spend almost two decades thinking about you,” he fought the voice cracks as he still couldn’t believe he was telling this the real Remus and not a hallucination he saw in his bedroom.
“You're such an ass,” that was not the response Sirius was hoping for.
“What?” Sirius question left his lips before he could stop it.
“How dare you stand in front of me after all these years and lie like this!” Remus pushed his pointer finger onto Sirius's chest, slightly pushing him back as he whisper-yelled. “Like I didn't think of you for seventeen years. Like I didn't see you in every living thing? like I didn't spend every night looking at the sky and searching for you so I could see you at least among the stars?”
Even though all the screams and yells, Sirius could still see that this in front of him was still his Moony. His Moony who was hurt, who was in pain caused by him, and Sirius didn’t know how to fix it.
“Moony…” he whispered yet again.
“You have no right to call me that,” his cold tone shut Sirius down, as Remus leaned away from his face.
“I know,” Sirius admitted, as a lone tear fell down his cheek. Remus scoffed and Sirius could see he was about to leave yet again, so he screamed even louder this time, hoping that through the screams he would feel his true emotions.
“I never should have left!” Sirius yelled as Remus shut down his eyes. He took this as a sign to continue, so he did. “I should have gone back for you no matter what. I should have ignored that stupid code you gave to Peter and ran towards you. I've spent each day regretting that decision I made.”
Sirius didn't know what kind of a reaction Remus would have. He replayed his scene in his head for almost two decades. He had a hopeful fantasy of Remus forgiving him, but also a terrifying one where this time Remus would be the one walking away. What he never imagined was the confusion on his face.
“What code, Sirius?” Remus whispered.
Sirius's breath hitched for a split second. He realized that Remus had called him by his last name, the one he despised so much, during this entire conversation. Still, Sirius was happy as he had imagined Remus calling his name almost every night for the past decade and a half and now it was truly becoming a reality.
“The code you and Peter came up with.” As that didn't seem to clear anything up, Sirius continued. “Peter told me that you two came up with a code word in case one of you were caught and that way you could alert each other of the possible trap.”
There was not an ounce of realization on Remus’s face, however his cold demeanor had changed. It had changed into something more vulnerable. Sirius was hit with the realization as he begged, “Please, tell me there was a code.”
The silence filled the street. The same street that was crowded with people, to these two men sounded empty, like no one had ever walked down its path in the last hundred years. All Sirius could hear was his heart beating in his chest, as Remus finally muttered out.
“There was no code, Sirius,” the once cold voice gently said.
“No,” Sirius muttered, pushing his fingers into his hair as he gripped it hard. He took a step backward, bumping into someone, but made no reaction. Remus reached forward to grab his arm, but Sirius jerked back. “No! That can’t be true!”
“The last conversation I had with Peter was him calling me disgusting for loving you,” and that word made Sirius stop moving. Love? He loved him? He loved him too? All these years Sirius spent wishing things were different, only to find out Remus had loved him too?
Before he could even respond, Sirius’s vision was getting dizzy and soon Remus’s body was against his. His arm was wrapped around his waist as the other one made its wait to his fingers, lacing them together just like when they were kids.
“Let's go back to the cafe, we'll talk there, alright?”
Sirius hoped he nodded, but he didn’t remember much. He sat at the cafe for what seemed an eternity. His dead unrequited love wasn’t actually dead nor unrequited. They sat in a booth next to the window and for some time Sirius only focused on his breathing and the snowflakes getting stuck to the glass.
He had felt Remus’s gaze on him. His eyes hadn’t left Sirius since they sat down, he even politely asked the waitress to come back to take their order later about five times now. But he didn’t care. All the anger he had felt was long gone. Nothing else mattered, but Sirius.
“Hello, can I get your order now?” The waitress’s voice woke Sirius from his daydream, as he looked up at her and then back to Remus. Remus gently smiled at him before responding. “Espresso for me, and?”
Sirius didn’t understand what was going on around him just yet, but he still managed to reply. “Tea.” Remus smiled, almost proudly, as the waitress nodded and left to make their order. Sirius could hear Remus’s soft giggle, so he asked. “What?”
“Nothing,” Remus responded, shaking his head. What Remus didn’t tell him, but wanted to was that he was glad Sirius had stopped acting like he liked coffee, as two cups of espresso, being his fourth today, would be a bit too much.
“I really thought you were dead,” Sirius said breathlessly.
“I thought you wished I was,” Remus responded with. “Never,” Sirius rapidly shook his head.
After a second, or so, of silence, Sirius asked. “Did you know I was alive?” All Remus could do was nod positively.
“Why didn't you write to me?” Sirius’s broken voice begged for an answer.
“I did,” he muttered.
“You did?” Sirius repeated, his eyebrows raising to his hairline.
“I sent you a total of six letters a month after the war ended until I ultimately got a response,” Remus started. “I got a big envelope with all six of my letters, all opened, and a seventh one saying “Stop sending me letters,” with your signature at the bottom.”
The silence took over once again. “I never sent that.” Remus smiled gently, like only he knew how. “I know that now.”
“I'm so lost for words,” Sirius breathed out with a humorless chuckle.
“You seemed to always be, at least in my presence,” Remus teased, making Sirius look at him under his lashes with his cheeks slightly red. Remus had hoped Sirius would not ask many questions. They would sit in this cafe, catch up, talk about their lives, and possibly stay in contact afterward. But he knew Sirius too well.
“What happened?” Sirius asked.
“They caught us,” he muttered as the waitress came back with our drinks. Remus politely smiled as Sirius couldn't peel his gaze off of him. He took a sip of his espresso before he had continued.
“They made me yell out for you, and then they forced us down on our knees. We were all lined up with our backs towards them,” Remus wasn’t looking at Sirius anymore. He was looking at a dot on the wall behind him, dissociating.
“And then they started shooting,” he confessed. Remus didn’t dare to look at Sirius for a few seconds. Why he had no idea. But he did gather enough courage to do so after a minute or so.
“I thought I was dead. I was so sure of it, but then a hand under my arm pushed me back to my feet. My ears were ringing and I couldn’t hear properly,” he coughed to stop the sobs from leaving his mouth.
“Moony, it’s okay,” Sirius started, but Remus shaking his head, made him close his mouth and listen.
“All I could see was Marlene's bleeding body as she kept mouthing my name, and I couldn't do anything to help,” he finally let out a sob as he squeezed out the last word.
“Moony, it wasn’t your fault,” Sirius said, and Remus could almost feel a partition of the weight leaving his shoulders. He had never told anyone what happened that day, and spent every living day blaming himself.
“I know,” he muttered. “They took me to a camp afterward, and tried getting information out of me.”
He took the scarf off of his face, along with his jacket to roll up his sleeves. “That's when I got these beautiful scars,” he said sarcastically, but Sirius could see the pain in his eyes. Sirius looked down at the white streaks covering his face and arms. One particular long one stretched over his nose, and Sirius wondered how he hadn’t seen it sooner.
He felt the urge to touch the scars but didn’t know if that would make Remus uncomfortable. That being the last thing he wanted to achieve, he slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, reached out and put his palm over Remus’s. Remus smiled still looking down at the table.
Reus remained quiet for some time. Sirius’s tea was cold as ice by this point, but he didn’t care. At one point Remus opened his palm and laced their fingers for the second time today, and the world felt a bit better place.
“I don't why they didn't kill me,” Reumus finally confessed. “Sometimes I wish they did.
”
“Don't say that,” Sirius’s heart broke as that harsh confession traveled through the air. Remus acted like he almost didn’t even hear Sirius. “He would have been alive if it weren't for me at least.”
“Who?” Sirius asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Remus looked up confused as well. “You don’t…” he started before ultimately stopping and pulling his hands from Sirius’s grasp only to place them over his face.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, but Sirius could still hear it, even in a busy cafe.
“Moony, tell me,” he asked as he grabbed Remus’s hand and held them in his own again.
Remus didn’t speak for a while. His gaze was peeled on the drink in front of it as if he was enchanted by it. A few times he tried opening his mouth but no sound came out. Sirius started running his thumb over his hands in order to calm him down. And just as Sirius was about to tell him that it’s alright if he can’t, Remus spat out the truth.
“It was Regulus,” he said, instinctively squeezing Sirius’s hands as hard as he could. Perhaps to make him stay. “He saved me. I couldn't hear, but I know he ordered them not to kill me, he dragged me to my feet and wanted to take me back to their station. But, then they…”
Sirius started at him as Remus spoke, waiting for the ending of the sentence.
“I'm so sorry,” he apologized as his lips started wobbling.
“They what?” Sirius demanded.
“They shot him,” he whispered barely audible, but Sirius caught it.
“Oh,” he only managed to let out.
Remus looked up, gazing at his reaction, only for there to be none. “I wrote that in a letter, I thought you knew and that you blamed me,” he added.
“No, I never knew,” Sirius monotonously responded.
“Do you?” Remus asked, hopeful.
“Do I what?” Sirius responded as he was being brought back from another planet and had no idea what was happening around him.
“Do you blame me for his death?”
His death? Regulus’s death? His little brother? The one he grew up searching for ladybugs in his garden with? The one who cried in his chest after their mother had physically abused both of them? The one who felt sorry for every punishment Sirius took for him? Or the one who changed? The one who was a dutiful son? The one who hadn’t spoken to him since he was fourteen?
“Had you taken the gun and shot him?” Sirius finally asked. Remus looked flustered for a second, and responded with, “Well, no, but.”
“Then I have nothing to blame you for,” Sirius interrupted him.
“Thank you,” Remus muttered.
They sat in yet another silence. Sirius has started processing the fact that his brother is dead, and Remus had started processing the fact that Sirius didn’t blame him for it. The sun had started setting down at this point. Neither of them minded. They were breathing with full lungs for the first time in their lives since they were sixteen.
“So it was him,” Sirius admitted.
“What?”
“When I heard the shots, I was sure you were dead. Not because it was the logical thing, but because it felt like my insides were being ripped away. Almost like my soul was splitting. I always thought it was because of you, but it was because of him,” he explained, only now realizing just how much he had loved his brother.
“It sucks,” Sirius unintelligently confessed.
“All of it does,” Remus added.
“Yeah, but I've spent my whole life thinking he was a coward, while he seemed to have been the furthest thing from it. It seemed like I was the coward,” he chucked in disbelief.
“We were all scared, Siri. We were terrified and trying to outrun the guns. We weren't cowards, we were just children.”
They were, weren’t they? Just scared children trying to win a war without even knowing how to hold a gun. And now the world was telling them to move on and they didn’t know how.
“They fucked us up good, didn't they?”
“They sure did,” Sirius laughed. “I should have looked for you, I should have done something,” the guilt was shown all over his face.
“Siri, don't,” Remus begged.
“But,” the plead got interrupted.
“Please,” Remus repeated. “I don't want to talk about what could have happened, or what we both should have done. The past is in the past and neither of us have a time machine.”
After almost three hours in the cafe, they walked down a long street, after Sirius had insisted on paying. Sirius missed this. To be in utter silence with someone and still be comfortable, and still, that be more than enough. Little had he realized, Remus was having the same thought. With their hands deep in his pockets, scarves covering their rosy cheeks, Sirius broke the silence.
“So, Switzerland, huh?” he questioned as Remus chuckled.
“Yep,” he giggled under the scarf.
“Tell me,” Sirius stopped and Remus followed suit. Sirius leaned over with a very strict facial expression, which made Remus lean in too. He looked around the park for a second, for dramatic effects, before speaking up. “Was it for the chocolate?”
The serious facade broke as Remus leaned back and threw his head back. A rupture of laughter left his mouth which made Sirius giggle too. For a split second, they weren't thirty-three-year-olds. They were sixteen-year-old teens, walking down their tiny town, in their own bubble, without a care in the world.
When he laughter had dialed down, Sirius muttered. “I missed you.”
“You got braver with your words since the last time I saw you,” Remus teased. He remembered being a teen, desperately giving Sirius hints that he was in love with him for Sirius either to be the most oblivious man in the world or the most terrified one.
“All thanks to James,” he proudly said. The smile on Remus’s face fell, but thankfully Sirius had started walking before he could notice.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you had someone,” Remus desperately tried concealing the disappointment in his voice.
“Yeah, I have my Jamie,” he smiled obliviously. Jamie? He even had a nickname for him.
“That’s great. So, how did you two meet?”
“We met at orientation class in university. He had a thing for a girl I knew, Lily, you would love her, and I helped him confess.”
He had a thing for a girl? James could be bisexual, but still was James cheating on this Lily with Sirius?
“But, they broke up?” He asked curiously to see what kind of a person Sirius had become.
“Oh, no! God, no! They have a kid, too. Little Harry. I'm his godfather. I don't know why either, trust me.”
Oh.
Oh.
“But I thought you two were together?” Remus asked still confused. This made Sirius stop walking and turn towards him. He was trying not to laugh as he spoke up.
“Who? James and I? Oh, no! I mean I love him, he's my other half but not like that,” he laughed.
“Oh, good,” Remus let out a breath of relief before realizing how strange that must have looked. “Not good, I mean good that you're not his side chick or side cock? Oh God, no, that sounds worse.
The terrified look on Remus’s face made Sirius laugh even louder and his whole body bent down, his stomach was in pain at this point and his jaw was following suit.
“Stop laughing, Sirius! I just meant that I'm happy you're happy,” Remus tried explaining, but ultimately joined him in laughter. He started at Sirius as he tried catching his breath, his cheeks red from the cold. He was wiping the fallen tears as he let out the last few giggles before calming down. His black hair was dancing in the wind. Sirius looked ethereal.
“You are happy, right?” Remus asked. Sirius stopped laughing, only a grin visible on his face as he looked up at the taller man. The same man he desperately loved despite thinking he was the cause of his death. The hazel eyes looked slightly more gray in the cold and the scar over his face somehow only enhanced his beauty.
“I am now,” he whispered.
It had been almost two weeks since Sirius returned from his trip. It also had been almost a week since he sent his first letter to Remus, and he received the response this morning. When that night ended, both of them were numb.
Too much happened in one night and it was hard to process it all. One thing was for sure, neither of them were willing to lose the other person again. He told James about Remus. James being James cried, while Lily laughed at her “pathetic husband” as she said. They oath to visit him as soon as they both can get a few days of work. Everything seemed like a fever dream that Sirius was too afraid to wake up from. It took him a week of convincing himself to realize that his Moony truly was alive.
He was happy, for the first time in seventeen years.
But there was one thing he was dreading that had to be done.
“What was the code word?” Sirius asked as he walked into the kitchen one night.
“Hm?” Peter asked as he was cooking them dinner at Sirius’s place.
“I never asked you about the code word you and Remus came up with,” he pushed further s he placed the beer back onto the table and walked closer.
“Oh, I don’t remember anymore. It was a long time ago,” Peter tried brushing it off.
“Was it?” Sirius’s cold tone, made Peter look up from the stove. There was immediate panic on his face. “I remember every word we said that day,” he pushed yet again.
“Don’t make me think about it, Sirius,” he begged, mixing the food in the pan.
“It’s hard to think about the day we betrayed our best friend, right?” Sirius leaned in dangerously close. He could almost see Peter’s body tense up. “Betrayed?” he whispered.
“Is it also hard to think of the letters he sent?” Sirius asked breaking the silent catching game they were playing.
“You know.”
“I know,” Sirius nodded and waited for him to say something, anything. Once he did, Sirius wished he hadn’t. Because up until this point, Sirius hoped that it was all a big misunderstanding. That his best friend didn’t lie to him, didn’t call people like he was “disgusting”, and that he hadn’t hidden the truth from him for so long.
“I’m not sorry,” Peter said without a single tremor in his voice.
“You, bastard,” Sirius spat out.
“I’m not sorry for choosing life! I was right, he would have been dead by the time we came back for him and then they would have killed us too,” Peter tried his best to argue back.“I was fucking terrified, Siri.”
“I’ve lived with that guilt every fucking day. I remember the last thing I said to him, how much of an asshole I was. I was scared if I were to show you the letters, you would leave me alone. I lost everything, Sirius. And I knew if you knew he was alive if you knew I had lied, you would have left me for him,” his eyes were filled with tears and his hands were shaking as he waved them around.
Sirius could almost understand why Peter had lied about the code word. As Remus said, we were all just scared children. But hiding the fact that Remus, not only Sirius’s best friend but Peter’s too, was too much to handle. He was a scared child back then, but he wasn’t one anymore. He was a coward.
“I can’t tell you what I would have done back then, but I know what I will do now,” Sirius spoke and Peter knew what was to come of it. “Sirius, please,” he begged, closing his eyes.
“Get out of my house, Peter.”
He didn’t leave immediately, and Sirius let him take his sweet time. Sirius also took this time to remember him, remember what once was of him, the person he knew before and the man who stood in front of him who was a stranger.
“I truly am sorry,” Peter said as he was about to shut the door.
“So am I…” Sirius muttered. He was sorry for many things, not the same ones Peter claimed to be sorry, but he was sorry nonetheless. He was sorry for all the years he wasted on their friendship that turned out to be a lie, sorry for believing him that day and not going back, sorry for not realizing the truth earlier. But he wasn’t sorry for kicking Peter out of his life.
It was summertime, almost half a year had passed since Sirius last visited. Sirius brought Lily, James, and Harry this time around to meet Remus. He could already see that Lily would be to Remus, what James was to him. They sat on the blanket in the middle of a park, staring at Harry playing around with other kids. Even though they couldn’t understand each other, the kids played. It hit Sirius all of a sudden. Life really goes on. He knew he had a better ending than most people who experienced what he had or similar things. For that he was grateful.
He was grateful to have James, Lily, and Harry in his life.
He was grateful to have Remus back in his life.
He was grateful to have a flexible job.
He was grateful to bear a secret that he didn’t book a round ticket back to London for himself.
He was grateful to have paid the first month's rent for the small studio apartment in Bern.
He was grateful to only live a ten-minute walk from Remus.
He was grateful that life gave him another chance.