Vintage tee, brand new phone
High heels on cobblestones
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
Remus and Sirius were both 18, and it was the summer they both graduated Hogwarts. They had decided to join the order after it, being selfish enough to wish for one last summer before adult life got to them, and responsibilities with it. They were heading back to their flat, Remus with his hand entwined with Sirius’, laughing as the raven-haired boy wobbled on the high heels he’d insisted on wearing, even though they both knew he’d be pissed beyond recognition before they could get back at all. The click-clack for the heels was sharp against the night, otherwise warm and quiet. Warm enough that Remus actually wore one of Sirius’ tees out, a black one with Queen’s A Night at the Opera emblazoned in the front.
Sirius had laughed, watching how it was just a little too short on Remus, hugging him from behind and hiding his face in Remus’ neck. “It looks killer on you, my Moons,” he’d said, and Remus had smiled.
“I know,” he’d answered simply, smugly, and that had made Sirius chuckle against him, giving a light kiss before turning him around. He’d been dressed in black jeans and a basic black tee, his leather jacket clad nicely on his shoulders. Remus had paused to look at him, happy to drink in the sight, and only then did he notice the red high heels he was sporting.
He'd laughed. “I will not carry you back here when we’re coming back, Pads.”
Sirius had laughed and waggled his eyebrows at him. “I won’t need you to, Moony darling. You know I’m too good at wearing them.” A beat. “Come here,” and he’d pulled Remus by the front of his sweater and into a kiss, slow and deep, almost lazy.
Remus did, in fact, carry him back to their flat, Sirius smiling happily against his shoulder, planting small kisses against Remus’ skin.
“I lied, my Moons” he said, words slurred a little, “this was my plan all along.”
Remus smiled at him, holding back laughter. “I know, Pads. I know.”
Sequin smile, black lipstick
Sensual politics
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
Remus was 15, and it was Sirius’ 16th birthday party. He’d become more daring as of late, defying everything the family that had disowned him stood for, doing ridiculous things for the sake of it, and Remus couldn’t help but find it all endearing, even if it did have him a little worried. He’d console himself most nights by reminding himself that Sirius was, at least, out of Walburga’s claws.
He’d been in love with Sirius for years now, and although he’d been giving it his all to get over him since the start of term, he’d come to the grudging realization that that wasn’t changing anytime soon.
He turned to see Sirius come out of their dorm and into the Common Room, where the party was already raging in his honor, his lips painted a deep black that complimented his leather jacket perfectly, curved in a small smile, that widened once he found Remus in the crowd.
Remus’ mouth went dry as Sirius approached him, the crowd before him parting at Sirius’ will. He looked stunning, there was simply no other word for it. “What do you think, Moons?” he asked him, cocking an eyebrow, daring him to say something. Anything.
Remus sported a small smile of his own and looked at Sirius from head to toe, ignoring the way his heart jumped by the way Sirius’ cheeks flushed in delight at the scrutiny. “If it isn’t the Noble House of Black and everything it stands for, right in front of me.”
Sirius laughed at him, and then the party resumed, but it was the first time Remus felt his feelings may not be entirely one-sided. Sirius danced with him, and flirted with him, and ignored all the girls he had all over him over in favor of spending his night with Remus. He shouldn’t have been as happy as he was for it, but well, he was only human.
When Remus had had enough of the uncertainty, he went upstairs, readying himself to go to sleep. Sirius went through the door a few minutes later, looking at him with a mixture of fear and awe.
“Do you need something, Pads?” Remus asked eventually, when Sirius continued to stand on the door, just looking at Remus.
He pushed his hand through his messy dark hair, and started walking towards Remus. “I just- Moony...” he said, and when he was within distance, he pulled Remus down to his lips. It was their first kiss, sloppy and rushed, fueled by the alcohol and the lingering looks and daring touches they’d been sharing for the entire night.
They were beside Remus’ bed, and Sirius cupped his cheek while their lips pressed against each other, fireworks exploding in Remus’ chest and making him warm and tingly all over.
“Thank you and good night, my Moons,” Sirius told him once it was over, before he turned to his bed, collapsed on it, and promptly shut the curtains closed.
Remus lay down on his bed touching his lips softly, reliving the moment over and over again.
But I knew you
Dancin' in your Levis
Drunk under a streetlight, I
Remus and Sirius were both 17, and it was their last Hogsmeade trip before graduation. All four of them had been out, drinking in the Three Broomsticks. Sirius had charmed Rosmerta into giving them actual fire whiskey, meaning they were all tipsy and laughing by the time it had gone dark, and it was time for them to leave, and James and Peter had been walking quickly and gotten ahead of them easily.
Remus was content with walking at Sirius’ slow pace, though. The lights illuminating the way from the town back to the castle were already lit up, and Sirius was making a show of walking from one to the other, singing Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody into the night and dancing it out on every single light. Remus watched from a few paces behind, a fond smile on his lips, hands in his pockets. There were no other students around, most of them having left already before it got dark. They were actually quite late, cutting it close to curfew, but Remus didn’t mind.
“Mamaaaaa, ohhhhh” Sirius’ voice was steady, despite the amount of whiskey he’d drank. He stopped in a light, twirling around it and laughing a little breathlessly, his Levi’s jeans fitting his snug frame perfectly. He was so, so beautiful. “I don’t wanna die…”
He’d been using his hand as a microphone, and he turned it now towards Remus, who had been approaching slowly, enraptured by the sight of his boyfriend. He was feeling rather tipsy himself, so he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by the way he caught Sirius’ hand in his own and brought it to his mouth, standing close to him, right under the light as well. “I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all…” he sang, making his voice an octave lower in the way he knew drove Sirius mad.
It worked and, a second later, Sirius was smiling at him and stealing a quick kiss, lips closed, hand cradling Remus’ cheek with reverence, before collapsing against Remus. He shuffled them around until they were slow dancing, hand on Remus’ waist as Remus held onto his shoulders, Bohemian Rhapsody quickly forgotten in favor of swaying slowly from side to side, content with just being in each other’s arms. They stayed there for what seemed like hours but could’ve been minutes, slowly dancing with the stars as their only company.
They got detention because they made it back to the castle way past curfew, but it was entirely worth it, in Remus’ opinion. It would remain one of his favorite memories with Sirius for the rest of his own life.
I knew you
Hand under my sweatshirt
Baby, kiss it better, I
Remus was 16 and Sirius was 17, and they just gotten back from Christmas break. Sirius had spent his at the Potters, but Remus had insisted on going back to his mother, who was only getting sicker by the day, to spend as much time with her as he could. It had meant he’d spent a full moon back at his house, on his own, and he was sporting a new scar from the endeavor, a nasty gash on the left side of his body he’d refused to talk about in his letters. He didn’t want to worry any of his friends, much less his boyfriend.
He’d come to be thankful for his decision, for his mother would pass away only days after school began again, but for now Remus was just happy to be back at Hogwarts. Sirius had greeted him on the train with a twinkle in his eyes and a kiss (cut short by Peter, who had snorted and thrown chocolate frog cards at them until they separated), but the twinkle had slowly disappeared as he’d taken Remus in and realized something was amiss.
He’d spent the rest of the train ride fussing over him, trying to coax what was wrong out of him, but Remus was all stoic looks and half-hearted I’m fines until they got back to the dorm after the welcome back feast.
It was only then that he undressed, looking for his pajamas, and Sirius (who had been blatantly looking at him, the prick) got to see his naked torso, the white gauze stark against his slightly tanned skin.
Sirius’ breath hitched, then, as Remus put a sweater and comfortable pants on, and he approached him to put a hand under the sweatshirt and feel the gauze that covered his ribs.
“Moony?” He asked, his voice small, and Remus let out a defeated sigh as he pulled them both to his bed and drew the curtains like a protective cocoon around them.
They lay down, noses almost touching, hands entwined in the space between them, grey eyes looking into amber ones. “I’m fine, Pads, I promise,” he said, hoping to sound convincing.
Sirius let out a small, distraught sound. “But you were in pain, Moons,” and his voice was so small and defeated that all Remus could do was pull him into a kiss. Sirius’ hand went into his sweatshirt again, featherlight touches against Remus’ hot skin, and he looked at Remus from between his lashes in a way that made Remus tingle from head to toe.
“Let me kiss it better, Moons,” he whispered, bringing his sweater up and removing the bandages with practiced carefulness, only to bow his head towards the deep red gash, leaving a trail of kisses on top of it that, inexplicably, made Remus feel better than he could’ve ever imagined.
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite
Remus and Sirius were both 13, and Remus had cried for most of the summer because he’d gotten a new scar. It was the second scar he got on his face, and it was a nasty one, slashing through his nose from one side to the other in a way he could only describe as hideous.
He’d understand it if his friends wanted nothing to do with him anymore, especially Sirius, because he was the most handsome from between them and Remus knew, even at his young age, that pretty people tended to not mingle with the ugly ones. And he felt so, so ugly.
He went into the train, barely lifting his gaze from the wooden floor, going straight for one of the last compartments. Maybe, if he was fast enough, he’d get there before any of his friends could spot him, and he’d let the compartment fill up with people who wouldn’t mind sharing with him, so his friends wouldn’t have to see his-
“Oi, Moony!” Remus internally sighed at the voice of James Potter ringing through the train from behind him. He let his pace be slower so James would catch up with him, which he did after a few seconds, throwing an arm around him casually. “How have you been? You stopped responding to my letters a few weeks ago.”
It was an inquisitive tone, not a reprimanding one, but Remus still made himself smaller and made sure to not look up. “Sorry, must’ve slipped my mind.” It had been intentional, though; he’d been preparing for their sure departure from his life, getting used to not having them around, doing his best to not even open the letters any of them sent him.
Another arm slipped around Remus’ other shoulder. “Moony!” Sirius’ excited voice made Remus look up automatically, much to his dismay, and his hair fell from where he’d carefully placed it to hide his scar, revealing it to the grey-eyed boy.
Remus’ eyes opened in alarm, and he started to pull away, dropping James’ arm from where it had been moment before. Sirius didn’t relent, though, he simply tightened his arm around him, still smiling like nothing was wrong, and tugged him into an empty compartment, James and Peter trailing behind them.
Sirius’ hand reached out to touch the scar, and Remus forced himself to stay impassive as his fingers traced over it lightly. “Did it hurt?” Sirius’ voice was low.
“Like a bitch,” Remus answered, and the three boys laughed.
“I like it. Makes you look all cool and mysterious,” Sirius said, smiling at him, and then he leaned in to whisper beside his ear. “Don’t tell them, but it makes you my favorite.”
Remus blushed and looked away, but the feeling of not belonging slowly faded from his chest, replaced by a pleasant warmth, courtesy of one Sirius Black.
A friend to all is a friend to none
Chase two girls, lose the one
When you are young, they assume you know nothin'
Remus and Sirius were both 15, and they had just started fifth year. Sirius was still going out with Mary, their supposed fling having lasted for over 8 months at that point, and Remus had started lecturing himself every morning on the importance of getting over Sirius, and fast.
There he was, doing so again, except it wasn’t the morning. It was dark out, the sun having set some time before, and he was getting ready to go down to the common room to the start-of-year party. The other boys had already gone down, or so he presumed, because their dorm was miraculously silent.
Remus looked at himself one last time in the mirror and turned around to leave the bathroom, only to find Sirius standing in front of the door, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe and looking at him with an undecipherable expression.
“What?” Remus gritted out, his tone bitter and angry. It wasn’t his intention, it truly wasn’t, but he was tired and emotionally drained and he had no one to take it out on, so he did it against the person who mattered the most to him. Pathetic, and he knew it, but he also couldn’t stop.
“You look good, that’s all,” Sirius said, his voice low, eyes boring into Remus’ face like he was gauging his reaction.
Remus all but shoved him in his endeavor to get out of the bathroom, not knowing what to say and not knowing how to act. They had started fighting again, but it was more than their usual bickering, laced with more regret and anger than ever before. He went down the stairs and immediately started drowning his feelings in the bottle of fire whiskey Marlene handed him.
Later that night, when Sirius snogged another girl who wasn’t Mary, which made her hex him and then dump him in front of everyone there, Remus couldn’t help but think that this was it. Sirius was irredeemable in the romance department, and he’d never want him back anyways, so there was nothing left for him to do but to get over him.
That night, he did his best to promise himself that he was done with all things romantic, especially if they had to do with the raven-haired boy he’d been in love with since he was fourteen.
But I knew you
Playing hide-and-seek and
Giving me your weekends, I
Remus and Sirius were both 12, and they had managed to make all of their parents agree to a day spent at the Potter’s house together. It was almost a miracle, something they hadn’t managed to do for the entire summer, and it had all been thanks to Monty and Effie’s efforts. They had somehow convinced Walburga, and then Hope, and since Peter lived only a few minutes away, Edwina had been more than willing to let Peter go for the day.
They had spent a good chunk of the day flying around in James’ huge backyard (they had, Remus had just watched with a small smile etched on his lips), chasing one another, and even playing hide and seek. They were terrible at it, having seen muggle children play it only once or twice, so they came up some ridiculous rules (like they had to make a lap around the pitch before they could go ahead and touch the “home base”) that Remus was pretty sure were entirely made up, but he wasn’t complaining.
They were now lying on the grass, next to one another, in comfortable silence. Remus’ legs were tangled up with Sirius’, who was lying next to James, Peter on the other side of him. They were all in similar positions, Sirius’ head in James’ stomach, James with one leg hooked up around Peter’s.
Sirius sighed heavily, taking James’ hand so he’d start pushing it through his hair. It was shorter than usual, courtesy of his parents, but he seemed content enough with it like that. “I’d honestly prefer to be here everyday, rather than home,” he whined, and turned his face to look at Remus’. Their faces were close together, merely a few centimeters apart, and Remus’ heart did that weird fluttery thing it did whenever Sirius was close to him. “I’d give you all my weekends, if I could.”
James laughed beside him. “Stop being so dramatic, mate. We all love each other, of course we’d be together always.”
But Remus gave him a small smile, mouthing the words “I would, too,” and Sirius’ eyes crinkled in the corners where his smile reached them.
I knew you
Your heartbeat on the High Line
Once in 20 lifetimes, I
Remus and Sirius were 20, and things had started growing tense between them. The long hours Remus had to do, the missions he wasn’t allowed to talk about, the way he’d disappear and not say where to… they were catching up to them, slowly but surely breaking cracks on the foundation they’d spent years building.
Remus, of course, refused to let this be the way things happened. He’d spent too long loving Sirius, having him, to simply give up when things got tough. If that was the case, he would’ve left years ago, would’ve never looked back after the prank.
But it wasn’t the case and so here he was, sharing a tense breakfast with the raven-haired boy who had refused to look at him for the past two days, when he’d come back from a full moon with the pack in such a state that he’d needed Lily’s healing expertise to help him through it.
“Okay, I’m done with this,” he stated, once his plate was empty and his mug halfway done. He looked at Sirius and saw the other boy had looked up at him with surprise, the first glance he’d bothered to give him since Lily had grimly declared he was all set up, after patching up the worst of his wounds.
He arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to tell me where the fuck you’ve been, then?” His tone was sharp, but he wasn’t fooling Remus. He knew that voice. It was what he used whenever he was hurt and too proud to show it.
Remus sighed, because he’d decided that Dumbledore’s insistence on secrecy could be fucked, because if he didn’t trust Sirius, was anything even worth it? “Yes, I am,” he said, and Sirius’ entire demeanor changed in a second. All the fight seemed to go out of him at once, and he sagged against the back of a chair. A tentatively smile, small but real, started blooming in his lips. “However, we are going jogging first.”
“We’re- what?” Sirius was still collapsed against the back of the chair, still relaxed, but now his expression was more confused than anything else.
Remus got up from their small table and took his plate to the kitchen, hearing Sirius’ muffled steps behind him. “You heard me, Pads,” he called back, leaving the plates in the sink, and he felt Sirius’ arms snake around his waist as he, too, left his plates there. He bent down into the crook of Remus’ neck, nuzzling there, and Remus hung his head back, relaxing into his touch.
They hadn’t held each other like this in months, and oh, how Remus had missed it.
A few minutes later, they were hitting the asphalt, his senses attuned to Sirius’ heartbeat, listening to it as they did laps around their neighborhood, side by side, smiling at each other occasionally, more at ease than they’d been with each other in a long, long time.
It made Remus think. He’d been convinced since he was 16 years old that he and Sirius were meant to be, that there was no escaping this, escaping him. However, lately, he’d been wondering if maybe that had been wishful thinking, if he wasn’t only thinking that because he’d been young and in love and didn’t want to admit that they were doomed from the start.
During that run, and during their talk after, Remus decided that they were probably doomed in most of the lifetimes they got to share together. However, he was grateful that he was living in this one, the one in a million, where they weren’t. Where he’d never give up on Sirius, and he wouldn’t give up on Remus either.
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite
Remus and Sirius were both 16, and it had been months since everything between them fell apart. Months since Snape had been let in on his secret, months of Remus ignoring Sirius while the raven-haired boy all but begged Remus to look at him, to let him explain, to let him speak. Months since Remus had started ditching the company of the Marauders (James was still mad on his behalf, but he and Sirius couldn’t really stay apart for that long, and Remus had made sure to push Peter away because he was a reminder of everything hat had happened) in favor of being with the girls, who had received him with their arms wide open, even when he wouldn’t share what their falling out had been about.
It wasn’t that Remus hated Sirius, not exactly, not really. Love and hate could both be represented by the color red, and there was some irony in that, wasn’t there? Remus felt so red, and he didn’t know what it was anymore.
Remus loved Sirius. Remus hated him. Remus did both, and neither, all of it at the same time; he wanted to kiss him, and he wanted him to never speak to him again, and he wanted to hold him in his arms and free them both from the suffering they had both been going through for the past few months. Because Remus wasn’t an idiot; he knew he had inflicted the pain and betrayal he felt right back at Sirius, making him shrink until he was this pathetic shell of himself who barely looked alive anymore, the circles under his eyes dark, his hands trembling whenever he went to do anything, probably from the lack of sleep.
All of this had been wearing Remus’ defenses down, and he was pathetically close to use forgiving Sirius without another thought. His pride was too big, though, and so he’d been telling himself for days that he’d forgive him only if he apologized again. It had been a whole month since he’d last tried, when Remus’ anger had still been scorching hot and he’d only looked at Sirius while he apologized, only to walk away right after, not even bothering to say anything.
It had been liberating, in that moment. Now, Remus was just ashamed.
“Remus?” Came an uncharacteristic small voice from the other side of the room. He had refused to let his room not be a safe space for him, which meant that Sirius had gotten used real fast to only come back to it when Remus was already pretending to be asleep. Today, though, he was standing in the doorway, looking unsure, hair greasy and unkempt, appearance all in all disheveled.
He looked like hell, objectively, but in Remus’ eyes Sirius was always pretty.
“Yes, Sirius?” He asked, his tone lighter than it had been since before the “prank”, as Sirius had initially called it. They hadn’t used their nicknames with one another since then, resorting instead into a first-name basis that felt weird. Remus had had the decency, at least, of not calling him Black. It would’ve been too low a blow, even for his initial anger.
“Can we talk?” It was the question he’d asked every day for the entirety of the first month, but then it had been slowly decreasing in frequency, to the point where last time had been almost a month ago.
Remus knew how this went already: he’d give in, Sirius would apologize, and he’d hurt him until Sirius was curled up on himself, looking at him from between his lashes, doing his best not to cry, sometimes failing. Today, though, he knew he’d give in entirely, and forgive him once the words tumbled out of his lips. He’d put himself through enough suffering, and all of his friends with him.
Remus sighed. “Sure, mate, what’s up?”
Sirius flinched at the use of the word “mate”, that had turned into ‘love’ or ‘dear’ for a few months before everything went to hell. He walked slowly to his bed and sat in it, right in front of where Remus was sitting. “I’m not going to apologize again,” Sirius started, his hand wringing with one another, and Remus looked at him, surprised. “I’m not, because I understand that what I did was unforgivable, Mo- Remus. I hurt you, and betrayed you, and gave away your secret to the worst person imaginable, and I deserve to be punished for it. I can see that now.”
“Sirius-” Remus started, horrified, because he should’ve known that all his hatred would only make Sirius hate himself more. It wasn’t his intention, at least not consciously, but it was clear that’s what he’d achieved. To take Sirius down a self-hatred and pain-inflicting spiral.
“No, let me finish.” Sirius’ voice was shaky, but Remus still dutifully shut himself up. “I won’t apologize again, I promise you that, but I- I’ll continue pestering you, until you at least accept me back into your life, because I can’t continue on like this, Remus, it’s tearing me apart. I love you,” and Remus’ breath hitched, “and I know that rings on empty ears right now, because I’ve done nothing to prove that to you, but please let me. Let me prove it to you. Let me-”
Sirius’ speech was interrupted when Remus threw himself forward and enveloped Sirius in his arms. The shorter boy exhaled shakily and promptly burst into tears, sobbing against Remus’ jumper where he’d hidden his face. Remus pushed his fingers through his hair, the dark strands knotted and greasy where they were usually so silky and smooth, and he allowed himself to relax against the other boy for the first time in three months.
“I’m sorry” he mumbled, and he went on before Sirius had any chance to argue. “Yes, you fucked up, badly, and we are acknowledging that, but we also have to acknowledge that I was a bitch to you. You don’t deserve pain, Sirius, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you did. I love you too, you know. I love you so much.”
Sirius only cried harder at this, pulling at Remus so that they’d both fall into his bed, all tangled limbs and desperate hands holding one another so close, like they could fuse themselves into one another.
They spent some time like that, holding each other and crying quietly, until Sirius unburied his head from Remus’ chest to look up at him, his grey eyes red and puffy, the dark circles under them menacing. “You’re my favorite person ever, Moons. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
To kiss in cars and downtown bars
Was all we needed
Remus and Sirius were both 17, and it was the summer before they were off to their final year at Hogwarts. Since his mother had passed, almost six months ago, he had decided to stop living in his house, and had accepted Sirius’ offer to move into the flat his uncle Alphard had left him when he passed. They were going to live in it anyways, after school was over, so Remus saw no reason to not move in now.
He was living alone for the moment, since Euphemia and Fleamont refuse to let their boy go before his school years were over. Sirius complained about it, but Remus knew, deep down, he loved it, loved the domesticity of the Potter household. Remus didn’t resent it, either, content with spending most of his days reading books, making some tea, and doing house chores. It was cute, and domestic, and being far away from his father was a nice bonus.
Besides, Sirius was in the flat more often than not, popping up for tea, or to help him with chores, staying over the night whenever they went out for drinks, sometimes staying simply because he was too tired to apparate back to the Potter house.
That would the case today, as they got into the back of a cab, looking at each other lovingly, giving directions to the driver as they continued drinking each other’s presence. Everybody at the club had complained about this, them, claiming they were too in love to do anything but kiss each other with their eyes for the entire night, barely engaging in conversation with any of their friends. It had been all of them that night; James with Lily, Dorcas with Marlene, Mary, and Peter.
Remus had said nothing, because they’d been right. He’d been to busy looking at his boyfriend to notice much of anything else, except the drink in front of him, both of them engaging in conversations in low voices, the threat of the war somewhere far, somewhere it couldn’t reach them.
“Sometimes I think this is all I want out of life, my Moons,” Sirius said, his voice gentle, hands dancing across Remus’ arms. “To just kiss you, and kiss you, anywhere and everywhere.”
“Even downtown bars?” Remus asked, fond, as the driver pulled black to their flat (it was in muggle London, thankfully) and he took out a bit of cash to pay him.
“Especially downtown bars,” Sirius said, laughing, and stole a quick kiss at Remus before they both jumped out of the car and into the apartment. If the driver was to say anything, they’d never know.
You drew stars around my scars
It had started when Remus and Sirius were both 12, towards the end of their first year. Sirius had looked sheepishly at Remus’ scars before explaining to him that he usually decorated his brother’s scars with stars, to help with the pain, before asking him, his cheeks flushed red, if he’d like him to do the same thing to him. Remus had been skeptic at first, but he agreed, and Sirius had dutifully taken his quill and ink and grabbed Remus’ arm, the new scar in it pink, in the early stages of healing. He had done a series of stars around it, in varying sizes and even shapes, and it had sort of become a ritual to them. After every full moon in which Remus got a new scar, Sirius would shuffle to his bed wordlessly and paint stars around it.
It always, inexplicably, made Remus feel better.
As the years went on, this ritual would change. They became more comfortable with each other’s bodies, meaning Sirius had no problem with drawing stars around the scars littered around his abdomen and back, making sure to cover the biggest ones, creating little designs and constellations on them. When they started dating, Sirius would spend hours doing displays around each and every one of his scars, and Remus would proudly display the ones on his arms and face, all the constellations and small stars scattered around his body. Seeing Sirius smile whenever he looked at the art he’d made made the rest of the funny looks worth it.
The ritual stopped for a while, after the prank, those months in which they hadn’t spoken tugging at Remus’ heart and scars, who clamored for the return of the one who made them feel pretty. Who made them feel wanted. It resumed shortly after Remus forgave Sirius, though, and he’d reverently cover his entire body in stars, and space doodles, daring to go into planets as well as stars. He recreated the Canis Major and Leo constellations the most, and Remus would comment nothing on it, but he’d make sure to remind Sirius that he had needed to leave that house, no matter who had been left behind.
The first and only tattoo Remus got, freshly 18, was one of a star right beside the scar that went over his heart. It was Sirius’ doing; he’d asked for him to draw him a star in a paper and, thinking nothing of it, he had. Sirius had looked at it in awe when he showed it to him, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and had kissed it fervently and proclaimed it his best piece of art ever.
The ritual stopped abruptly when Remus was 21, and it never came back after that.
But now I’m bleedin’
Remus was 21 and Sirius was 22, and it was the morning after the November full moon. His first full moon alone, no one to accompany him, now that the pack had disintegrated after Voldemrt’s fall, and his friends were-
Remus didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to open his eyes to look at the mess he’d surely made. He felt the blood covering his body, slick where it had mixed with his sweat and tears. He waited until his body stopped convulsing, until the pain became manageable, to look at the state he’d been left in.
Three new gashes covered his chest, neck and leg, the most he’d gotten in years. Sighing, he pushed himself to a sitting position and did the best he could to cast some healing spells at himself. It was tough, but he gritted his teeth through the pain and forced himself to go through with all three of his wounds before turning for the gauze he’d left o his desk the night before.
He saw Sirius’ jacket, strewn there on the back of the chair, and he let his mind wander, for a second, to the raven-haired boy; what he’d been doing, how he was coping in Azkaban. Remus’ heart clenched in fear for the state of him.
It was only for a second, though. After that, he forced himself to remember the harsh reality of what Sirius had apparently done.
Sirius, his beautiful and rebellious boy, a traitor. Sirius, the person he knew best in the entire world, who knew most of what there was to know about him, the traitor? Call Remus an idiot, disgustingly loyal even when it went against everything else he stood for, but deep down inside, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Sirius wasn’t the traitor; he just couldn’t be.
Because, if he really was, then Remus’ heart would never stop bleeding, and he’d be dead before he could bring himself to live in a world in which he lost Sirius to the dark side.
'Cause I knew you
Steppin' on the last train
Marked me like a bloodstain, I
Remus and Sirius are both 34, and they were standing facing each other in the Shrieking Shack, James’ boy and his friends standing between them, and Remus felt like no time had gone by at all.
He had done his best to convince his bleeding heart that Sirius had to be the spy, that he had betrayed them all, but now he was standing in front of him, his smile crooked and his hair unkempt, and Remus’ heart was bellowing for him. For the injustice they all seemed to have committed.
When he hugged Sirius, it was like a part of himself was screaming itself raw, and his bleeding heart suddenly stopped pouring blood, something it had been doing consistently for the past 12 years. In that moment, he felt like everything could be solved, hope blooming inside of him, and he had to fight the urge to kiss Sirius.
His very cells were calling for him, a steady rhythm of ‘I know you, you’re here, you came back’ that he didn’t feel like breaking. He was too busy drinking the sight of Sirius in, still pretty even after all the resentment, and the fear, the aging and dirt. He was pretty because he was still him, his spark dimmed, but still there for all to see. For Remus to savor.
Their history was one marked with blood, Remus knew, but what was one more stain for the collection? He’d give anything to have Sirius again, even for just a moment, and if that meant he’d come out of it stained in blood, then so be it.
He had seen more than enough blood to last him a lifetime but, for Sirius, he’d be marked in blood for the rest of his life, and he’d do it with a smile on his face.
I knew you
Tried to change the ending
Peter losing Wendy, I
Remus and Sirius were both 21, and Remus didn’t trust Sirius anymore. His suspicions had grown more and more over the course of the past few months, but he refused to do anything about it, refused to be the one to leave, or to accept what reason told him to be true. The fact that he didn’t trust Sirius didn’t mean that he didn’t love him and, despite how complicated that made things, he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. He’ retorted to giving less information about his location and missions, even though Sirius already knew he was technically a double agent, working with the werewolves.
He could tell Sirius didn’t trust him, either, and that only confirmed his suspicions even more. Why would Sirius trust him with nothing, when Remus had already taken the toll and given in, telling him about the pack, about having to see Greyback again, about pretending to befriend him? It could only mean one thing, in Remus’ mind.
The one thing he refused to accept.
Things were tense in their flat once again, both of them walking around eggshells, pretending everything was fine, even though they both knew things weren’t. If the cracks had been there before, now they were alarmingly real, threatening to send them both careening in different directions, away from each other.
It made Remus remember that muggle book he’d read ages ago, about a daring boy and his band of Lost Boys, and how he’d chased a girl until she grew up and left him. Currently, Remus felt a little like that girl, watching the one he loved refuse to change and lean back into his old ways, never growing up, eternally a slave of the place he’d never gotten to grow up in.
He knew Sirius had escaped the Black house for good when he’d been sixteen, and what couldn’t make sense of was, what had made him go back? What had made him return to his old ways, the ways of the people he claimed to despise so much?
He couldn’t ask Sirius directly, and so instead they continued on, barely talking to one another, sleeping in the same bed but separated by miles of secrets and misunderstandings and all the things they never spoke about.
They were losing one another, and Remus knew it. He just didn’t know how to make it stop.
I knew you
Leavin' like a father
Running like water, I
And when you are young, they assume you know nothing
Remus and Sirius were both 19, and Sirius had gone mute when the news of Regulus’ death had gotten to him. He’d received them during an Order meeting, and he’d given a sharp nod, his eyes blank and his demeanor unchanged, and let the meeting continue without a fuss.
When James had gotten to their flat that night, wanting to talk to him, Remus had had to show him Sirius, sitting on their bed, looking at the wall in front of it, not moving, not talking. Not even James was able to get him out of his catatonic state. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Remus would’ve thought him dead.
There were some corpses that looked more alive than Sirius did, at that moment.
“Padfoot, please,” Remus said, sitting beside Sirius and giving his shoulder a squeeze, trying to get him to react, to say anything. He knew Sirius was hiding from the pain awaiting him, dissociated entirely from it, and he wanted to be there when it happened. But he had to leave for the full moon with the pack in three days, and he feared if he didn’t coax Sirius out of this state before that, that Sirius would lose his mind, alone.
He knew Sirius and Regulus’ relationship had been complicated, especially during the last few years, with Regulus becoming a Death Eater and Sirius fighting for the Order, but he also knew Sirius still loved his brother like he was his own child. He’d be mourning a child and a brother, and Remus couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would be like.
“You have to eat something, Pads, you haven’t moved in three days,” Remus tried again, and this time Sirius’ eyes strayed from the door to look into Remus’ eyes, grey eyes against amber ones, and then he looked down to the cup of tea in Remus’ hands. He grabbed it from his hands and brought it to his lips, sipping a little, but the movement was stilted. Mechanic.
“I don’t want to eat.” They were the first words he’d said after he’d gotten the news, and his voice was raspy, even though he hadn’t been crying, at least not when Remus had been around. If he had, he’d made sure his face didn’t show it when Remus or James came by to check on him. They’d been taking turns, both of them having to run missions and all. Peter had offered to check in on him as well, but they’d dismissed him, because he worked at the Ministry on top of working for the Order, and he’d been looking paler and more tired every time they saw each other. He needed the rest.
“That’s… okay, Pads, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Remus immediately relented, watching as Sirius continued drinking the tea, shoulders still slumped forward. “I could run you a hot bath, if you wanted?”
“Regulus hated the water,” Sirius answered instead, and Remus watched as the mask his boyfriend had worn for the past three days fractured, his real pain showing through, eyes filling with tears but not spilling. “Why the fuck would he drown? Why would he- I mean, he couldn’t even fucking swim, Remus, he couldn’t…”
Remus surged forward to hug Sirius as he fell apart, mug clattering to the floor and shattering, the dam on Sirius’ emotions broken at the same time, as he collapsed against Remus, sobbing, grasping at his sweater, trying to bring him closer.
Remus passed his hands through Sirius’ hair and let him cry against him, spilling a few tears himself, both from pain from seeing the state his boyfriend was in, but also for the quiet, shy boy who was so polite until he wasn’t, the boy Remus hadn’t really known as anything but Sirius’ little brother, and then as the Death Eater, and now it was too late to get to know him at all.
“I need James, Moons, can you please call James?” Sirius asked, hiccuping, still sobbing against Remus.
Remus hugged him tighter. “He’ll be here any minute now,” he said, and it was true; they had been about to switch, because Remus had to go out for food, and James had offered to stay while he went out.
As if he’d been called, the door to their flat banged open and, a few seconds later, James’ happy voice rang from their living room. “Moony, Pads, I’m here!” His steps echoed down the hall and then he opened the door gently, peeking his head through. When he saw Sirius half on Remus’ lap, sobbing quietly, he opened the door hastily and rushed to their side. “Hey, Pads, it’s okay, I’m here, see?” He said, kneeling in front of Remus and Sirius, hand on Sirius’ knee.
“Prongs” Sirius said, voice shaky, and James scrambled onto the bed to hug Sirius from behind, curling protectively around him.
Remus thought maybe they’d want their privacy, so he went to gently untangle himself from the embrace, but Sirius looked up at him from between his lashes, grey eyes cloudy with tears. “Don’t leave me, Moons, please. Not you too.”
“I won’t, Sirius, I swear I won’t,” he promised, and stayed right there, letting the boy of his dreams break apart under him, doing his best to compose himself.
“I thought I knew him,” Sirius said, much later, the three of them huddled in their bed, Sirius in between James and Remus, legs tangled with Remus’ and head on James’ shoulder. “I thought he knew better than that, than becoming a Death Eater. I thought I knew everything about him.”
Remus, much to his dismay, found himself thinking rationally, a cold, harsh thought. You never know anyone entirely, not ever; we’re young and know nothing.
But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss
Remus and Sirius were both 18, after Remus had gotten his star tattoo, and he was cherishing the way Sirius’ lips felt atop of it, kissing it over and over, like a prayer. He wanted that kiss to linger on his skin forever.
Careful what you wish for, as the saying goes.
I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
Remus and Sirius were both 21, but Remus was doing everything in his power to forget about the raven-haired boy’s existence. He was drunk out of his mind, trying to forget Halloween and everything that had happened then, sitting in a muggle pub with Mary, who was also drunk out of her mind.
“What if I-” she started, her index finger up in the air, like she was making a huge statement, “-had killed Sirius at 15, after he stupidly kissed that other girl? Surely, we wouldn’t be here now.”
“I have one better,” Remus answered, sending a broken smile Mary’s way. “What if I’d never loved him in the first place? I would’ve known he was the spy in an instant, and I would’ve done something about it.”
The moment turned somber, and they both gave their glasses a deep drink. What if, what if, what if… Remus’ mind couldn’t stop wondering, and it wouldn’t stop for the following twelve years.
The smell of smoke would hang around this long
Remus was 21 and Sirius was 22, and Remus torn his and Sirius’ apartment apart, in a fit of rage, after another full moon came and went and he was still entirely alone. It was all Sirius’ fault, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept that, and the smell of Sirius’ cigarettes coming from somewhere inside the apartment was tearing him apart. It had been months. Now, surely the smell must’ve died, so why the fuck-
Remus moved out of the apartment before his twenty-second birthday.
'Cause I knew everything when I was young
Remus and Sirius were both 14, and they had just gotten back from summer break, and the second Remus knew Sirius, he knew he was fucked. That he’d be fucked for the rest of his life, because nothing and no one would ever make him feel the way he did now, looking at Sirius’ majestic hair, and beautiful smile, and knowing he had been falling in love for three years, a love that would last him a lifetime.
Well, fourteen-year-old Remus had been right.
I knew I'd curse you for the longest time
Remus and Sirius were both 31, and Remus was alone, drinking his sorrows away on a warm summer night. It was the start of the Hogwarts term, and Remus knew, as much as he would’ve loved to forget, that Harry would be starting school this year. The last memories he had of him were from before James and Lily had to go into hiding, when Harry was nothing more than a lump of flesh and blood, all chubby cheeks and happy sounds, his hands always outstretched when it came to Remus. He always wanted Remus to hold him.
The boy was now eleven, and Remus didn’t even know what he’d look like. He could imagine it, though, a boy like James but with Lily’s eyes. He’d lost any right he could’ve ever had over the boy a long time ago, but he still wondered what could’ve been. How he would’ve felt, as Uncle Moony.
He took another gulp and cursed Sirius’ name, like he’d been doing for the past 10 years religiously. It did’t stop his heart from bleeding, of course not, but it made the ache in his bones more bearable. Pretending he hated him was easier than admitting he never stopped loving him, loving a murderous traitor.
Remus drank and cursed him again.
Chasin' shadows in the grocery line
Remus and Sirius were both 33, and Remus was doing his grocery shopping in muggle London. Dumbledore had visited him a couple of days before, both for offering the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (which he’d reluctantly accepted), and to inform him that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. He’d warned him, on the off chance that Sirius would know where to look for him, to inform him of any and all sightings of him.
Remus had agreed and left it at that. He didn’t want to think about what would actually happen if he saw Sirius. He liked to believe he’d kill him. He knew it was very likely. That he wouldn’t have the heart to.
He was in line for checkout, looking out the window to the grim landscape of cars and buildings, when he saw a shadow of black fur moving right outside the window. He instantly perked up, his skin tingling in a way it hadn’t in almost twelve years. The way it did every time Sirius laid his eyes on him.
He looked outside again, but the dg was gone. He had probably imagined it.
I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired
And you'd be standin' in my front porch light
Remus and Sirius were 34, and they hadn’t spoken again since the events of the full moon, when Remus had found out everything he had believed to be true for the past twelve years to be a lie. Sirius had left while he was a werewolf, and he hadn’t come in contact with Remus at all.
Remus sighed as he limped to his sofa, mug on tea in his hand, book in the other. He had planned a cozy night in, still having money from his days as a Hogwarts teacher, just him, a good book, and maybe the company of David Bowie’s voice.
As soon as he sat down, though, he felt a scratch at his door. He left his book and tea on the coffee table and stood up again, limping back to the door and swinging it open.
There, sitting down and looking up with grey eyes, was Padfoot.
And I knew you'd come back to me
Remus and Sirius were both 16, and it had been a couple of days since Sirius had fucked everything up between them. By now, Remus knew with certainty that, no matter what Remus said or did to offend Sirius, the other boy would always come back to him. That’s what he had been doing thus far, back in his face every day, shoulders sagged and apology at the ready, always there to take Remus’ sharp words and unfiltered rage.
Remus didn’t want him back; he wanted him gone.
You'd come back to me
Remus was 18 and Sirius was 19, and it was the first time Remus hadf to wait for Sirius to come back from a mission. He'd been guarding some Ministry bloke, saying he’d be back before six; it was currently a quarter past eleven, and Remus was pacing around their place, alone. Waiting.
There was a loud crack outside the door and a second later the door swung open. A guy who looked like Sirius stepped through, and as he closed the door, Remus put his wand against his neck. Dumbledore's instructions; they needed to quiz each other, on the off chance it was someone under the Imperio, or a Polyjuice Potion.
Sirius passed with flying colors, though, and Remus melted into him in seconds, tasting him, pushing their bodies until there was no space between them. Sirius let out a muffled noise and cupped Remus’ cheeks while Remus tugged on his hair, angling Sirius’ mouth upwards. A kiss to take out his frustrations, to remind the other boy how much he loved him.
Later, much later, when they were tangled in the bed and after coming down from the heights they’d made each other reach, Remus entangled his hand with Sirius’, kissing his knuckles. “Promise me,” he started softly, “that no matter what happens, you come back here. Back to me.”
Sirius smiled, then, and have Remus a kiss on his temple. “I promise you, my Moons. I’ll always come back.”
And you'd come back to me
Remus and Sirius were both 35, and it was the summer before Harry’s fifth year. They were living in Grimmauld Place, which had Sirius constantly on edge (more than usual, even after Azkaban), constantly trying to go outside. Remus was always chastising him, reminding him of how dangerous it was for him, how wrong things could go.
Sirius had managed to get out two days before, and he hadn’t come back.
Remus was worried sick, pacing back and forth along a corridor, which had Walburga’s painting screaming nonsense at him, but he’d tuned her voice out already, barely registering her rant about blood traitors in her house, and the dishonor he was. He was simply looking at the door, willing it to open, to bring him back in one piece-
The door did, in fact, open, and a second later Sirius passed through.
Remus went forward and collapsed in his arms, hugging the raven-haired man tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as all stress drained from him. Sirius put his arms around him in a second.
“I could be a decoy, or a spy, you know,” Sirius said, trying for nonchalant, as he hugged Remus back just as fiercely. “You should’ve checked, my Moons. That was sloppy.”
“I’d know your scent anywhere,” Remus answered, still hugging Sirius, not letting him go.
He was never letting Sirius go again.
And you'd come back
Remus was 36, and he had just watched Sirius fall through the Veil. He’d had to hold a screaming Harry back from following him, even as his own heart screamed at him to do the same, and he’d had to help Dumbledore organize their forces to repel the attack, and he’d had to do everything in his power to stop himself from collapsing.
His entire world had crumbled and, somehow, he still kept going.
It was only after the battle was over, and things had calmed down in the Ministry, that Remus managed to go back into the Department of Mysteries, into the room where, sometime before (how long had it been? It felt like years already), Sirius had gone through the Veil, only to never emerge from it. Remus, objectively, knew he wouldn’t.
Still, he stood in front of it, crying silently, just staring at it until his legs gave out from under him, until he was collapsed on the ground.
Only then did he gain his voice back. “You fucking idiot!” He shouted at the Veil, that remained unmoved. “You shouldn’t have gone for her! You promised you’d stay close by; you promised you’d always come back to me! Come back, then! Come back!”
No matter how much Remus cried, and screamed, and begged, the Veil remained unmoved, the love of his life truly gone.
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite
Remus was 36, and he was standing in the middle of the room from Grimmauld Place he’d shared with Sirius for most of the year, Sirius’ leather jacket thrown over his shoulders. He had never gotten rid of it, not after his supposed betrayal, and after returning, Sirius had taken to putting it on every day, saying it “reminded him of himself.” It still smelled like him; it was the only thing that did.
The scent in everything else was already gone, a distant memory. Like Sirius himself.
Remus was crying again, and he sat down on the bed, bending his legs so he could rest his chin atop his knees, sobbing quietly into the night. Kreacher had complained about him over and over, and Remus had assured him it would be the last time he came back to this house, if he could help it. It held too many memories for him to be able to sleep well there, anyway. He hadn’t slept in days, didn’t know how he was still functioning. Maybe he wasn’t.
In any case, there he was, inside of their shared room, trying to go through Sirius’ meager belongings, determining what (if anything) he’d be taking with him. He knew he had to take the jacket, if nothing else, which was why he was already wearing it.
He wanted to be quick, wanted to be out of Kreacher’s hair as fast as possible, but he couldn’t let this, let him, go. A childish part of him was still convinced that Sirius would come back for him, like he had always promised he would, a promise he had never, until now, broken.
Still sobbing, Remus grabbed a couple of Sirius’ t-shirts (they were all small on him, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care) and went to the door of the room, his intention to leave Grimmauld Place for good set in stone.
Before he could leave the room, though, he turned back to Sirius’ room and whispered to the empty space, “you were always my favorite, too.”