We Can Love

Halloween, 1976

Everyone is wasted. Blacked, obliterated, sloshed, etc. Sirius can’t help but laugh as he watches his best friend dancing on top of the table in the Gryffindor common room. Their peers are giggling about how this behavior must have something to do with Hufflepuff’s stash, but Sirius knows that James requires no social lubricant to do such a thing. Sirius is considering joining James on the table because how dare he have this much fun without him, but then a mop of brown curls catches his eye.

Remus.

And just like that, Sirius can’t focus on anything else.

The moment eleven-year-old Sirius saw Remus on the Hogwarts Express, he was obsessed. He didn’t quite understand the depth of his obsession until sometime later, but he was hooked. Sirius was certainly a sheltered child, but he’d been able to walk around Islington and certain parts of wizarding London with his governess and Regulus; he’d seen all sorts of people. But he’d never seen anyone like Remus Lupin. Sirius was entranced by the way the sunlight poured through the train window and lit up the golden flecks in his toffee-colored eyes. He had noticed the silvery white scar peeking over the collar of Remus’ shirt; a color that Sirus knew well, a scar that indicated a healed magical injury. Sirius wanted to know how he got the scar, Sirius wanted to know everything. He was spellbound.

It wasn’t until the beginning of fourth year that Sirius realized that his obsession maybe wasn’t exactly platonic. Remus had marched onto the train like he ran the place. He had grown. Remus had barely been taller than Sirius when they said goodbye at the end of third year but now, he had a good three inches on the other boy. Remus was dressed like he wasn’t trying, but he looked impossibly cool. Baggy jeans, a plain white t-shirt, a simple tan coat, and Doc Martins. Sirius was obsessed. When Remus sat down across from him, it had taken Sirius a solid minute to collect his thoughts enough to so much as say hello. He’d realized then that he was absolutely gone for his best friend.

After last year, when Sirius had gone off the rails following his final departure from the House of Black, he had nearly destroyed not only his friendship with Remus, but Remus himself. Sirius was convinced he’d never be forgiven and, as far as he was concerned, he shouldn’t have been forgiven. What he had done was unforgiveable. His lack of impulse control had threatened Snape’s life and risked Remus’ freedom. Had James not been braver than Godric Gryffindor himself, the night would’ve taken a much, much darker turn. Over the last year, Sirius had worked tirelessly to earn Remus’ trust again. They were finally back to “normal,” and Sirius wasn’t about to risk upending it all by admitting his feelings.

Looking at Remus always made Sirius’ world slow down. It was like he finally knew how to breathe. Even now, in the deafening thrum of the party, the moment his eyes met Remus’, Sirius’ world went quiet. Before he could think, Sirius was cutting through the room. In his distraction, he didn’t clock whatever exchange was happening between his brother and James. In fact, someone could’ve lit the couch on fire and it’s unlikely that Sirius would’ve noticed. In his rush to get to Remus’ side, Sirius hadn’t had time to concoct a plan. He didn’t have much time to panic before Remus reached out and grabbed his arm then leaned down speak into Sirius’ ear, “this noise is overwhelming, I need to get some air,” and then, speaking quickly as if he were trying to get it all out before he lost his nerve, “would you come with me?” Then, after pausing to take a steadying breath, “…please?”

And who is Sirius to deny Remus what he wants?

After taking a precious second to look into those gilded green eyes, Sirius nods once and then follows a slightly jittery Remus toward the door. The party had gotten insane. What had started as the Gryffindor upper years and their closest friends from other houses had turned into a nearly school-wide affair. Sirius wasn’t sure who had cast the silencing charms on the common room to keep the professors from noticing that Gryffindor Tower had been transformed into a London nightclub, but he decided that they probably deserved an Outstanding on their Charms NEWT.

Remus noticed Sirius starting to zone out and instinctively reached out to grab his arm. The boys knew each other so well. Remus knew that Sirius could be grounded by a simple touch and Sirius knew that Remus didn’t give out affection easily. From the outside, this moment looked like two friends trying not to lose each other in a crowded room, but to Sirius and Remus it was everything. After a pause, Remus took a shaky breath and then turned to lead Sirius through the crowd. Sirius had assumed they were going to climb the stairs to their dorm but, next thing he knew, the pair were climbing out of the portrait hole into the hallway.

Remus knew that many of the more peaceful spots would already be full of students looking for a spot to hook up. Remus really didn’t want to put up with that, all he wanted was a moment alone to breathe. And to Remus, being with Sirius never really felt like being with someone else; Sirius had always felt like an extension of himself. A fact that made his betrayal last year hurt even more. Being apart from Sirius felt like someone had split his soul in two. While Snape knowing about his condition was certainly anxiety-inducing, it was nowhere near as bad as the anxiety that came with being apart from his dearest friend. Now, as they make their way through the castle, he feels at peace.

It had been hard to trust Sirius again, he had spent weeks avoiding him, knowing that the second the other boy truly apologized and Remus looked into those stormy grey eyes, he’d crumble. After what felt like years, but had really only been a couple of months, the pair started talking again. Sirius was more patient than Remus had known was possible. They spent hours just talking, asking and answering questions, becoming each other’s secret keepers once more. Remus is afraid to risk this equilibrium, but ignoring his feelings for Sirius gets more difficult by the day. And now, fueled by a little liquid courage and a lot of pent-up emotion, he’s going to Do Something About It.

Even without the map, Remus knows every corner of the castle. Making his way to the grand staircase, Remus led the pair down to the portrait of Percival Pratt, said “this password is absurd,” then walked quickly through the liminal space that connected the portrait to the boathouse tugging Sirius behind him the whole way. Sometime between exiting Gryffindor Tower and emerging in the boat house, Remus had lost his grip on Sirius’ arm and, instead, had intertwined their fingers. He hadn’t noticed doing this, but neither boy seemed to be complaining.

Sitting in the spot where they’d stepped off the boats as first years, next to the boy who felt like a piece of his very soul, Remus was well and truly happy. Happy, he thought, this is what happy feels like.

The feeling of joy had been a foreign concept ever since Fenrir Greyback chose to get back at Remus’ father by climbing through the five-year-old boy’s open window and changing his life forever. But here, now, holding Sirius’ hand, Remus wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever feel anything but happy ever again.

After a moment of reflection, Remus turned toward Sirius to finally say his piece.

He turns to find Sirius looking up at the sky with an indiscernible look on his face. Instead of interrupting this moment, Remus turns his head to look up too. Hogwarts is so far away from anything that Remus has always thought that this must be how the ancient civilizations saw the sky. Instead of the nondescript spots of light he can see from London, out here, Remus can see full constellations. He understands how myths took hold; he understands worshipping the gods. He thinks to himself, if worshipping the gods lets you keep a sky like this and people like Sirius, I may just have to re-consider my beliefs.

Remus finds him immediately, the brightest star in the sky. “There’s you,” he says, sparing a glance at the boy beside him. Sirius closes his eyes and his face falls into a soft smile. The only time Remus has seen Sirius look so serene is when he’s sound asleep with the light of sunrise beginning to peek through the window. Remus didn’t know until this moment that someone could be awake and look that peaceful. He wants to bottle this feeling. He finds himself swearing in that moment that he will do anything, anything to keep that look on Sirius’ face.

“There’s me,” Sirius responds, his voice barely above a whisper, “how’d you know I needed to talk to him?” he asks, turning to look up at Remus.

Remus is confused, turning back to the sky and running through a list of what Sirius could mean. That is, until his eyes scan up and to the left, locking on the Heart of the Lion. A slightly dimmer, but still immensely powerful star.

Regulus.

“I didn’t, I guess,” Remus breathes, “I just wanted to be alone, and my feet led me here.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“Did you want me to leave, then?” Sirius asks, trying his hardest not to sound hurt.

“Alone with you, I mean.” Remus responds. The timid tone of his voice makes Sirius’ heart flutter. Alone with me, he thinks, me. There’s nothing he can do to stop the blush that spreads across his cheeks or the soft smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He looks down and takes a deep breath; that could mean nothing, he tells himself, we’re friends … best friends … he just wanted my company, nothing more.

Stuck in his thoughts, trying to convince himself that Remus means anything else, anything distinctly … platonic, Sirius doesn’t notice that the other boy has turned his whole body to face him. He doesn’t notice the several calming breaths that Remus takes, he doesn’t notice Remus’ hands shaking. He notices nothing until he feels the soft brush of Remus’ fingers on his cheek. His breath hitching, he dares to turn his face and look up.

The entire galaxy is painted right there in front of them. Sirius knows that he’s studied astronomy his entire life. Despite being raised in a pure blood wizarding family, he knows quite a bit about muggle science. He knows that the Earth has existed for 4.5 billion years, he knows that a force called gravity is anchoring them to this spot, he knows that the spin of the planet on its axis dictates day and night, and that its path around the sun governs seasons. He knows that they’re but a speck in a solar system that is but a speck in a galaxy that is but a speck in the universe.

He knows all this, he tells himself, I know this … I know these things … so why does it feel like there’s nothing beyond this boy?

The vast expanses of outer space have nothing, nothing on the way the starlight reflects off Remus’ eyes. Space and time have no effect on Sirius; gravity has no effect on Sirius. If he could dare to tear his eyes away from Remus’, he’d look down to check that his feet were still planted on the Earth. But, as it is, he’s just going to have to hope he isn’t spontaneously floating away.

But then he thinks, silly as it may be, that if he were to somehow start floating away, Remus would catch him. Yes, he thinks, Remus would catch me.

“Sirius.”

Still lost in thought, Sirius doesn’t hear him. He distantly sees Remus’ lips moving, but it’s requiring every ounce of his focus to stay rooted in place, to not fling himself at the other boy in a truly embarrassing show of affection.

“Sirius.”

The urgent tone of Remus’ voice cuts through the fog. Sirius blinks once, twice. Swallows hard and then tilts his head. Remus knows Sirius, he can read him like a book. He knows that the tilt of his head is a question, it’s Sirius asking what?

“I need to tell you something.”

Now, if the panicked look on Sirius’ face tells Remus anything, it’s that that was not the thing to say.

“It’s good,” he adds quickly before mentally kicking himself. It’s good?, he thinks, you absolute dolt. You have no clue if it’s good! Sirius could hate you; this could ruin everything. But before he can slip into an outright panic, he forces himself to focus on Sirius’ eyes. He takes a breath and steels himself,

“It’s good,” he repeats, more sure this time.

“What is it?” Sirius asks. Remus didn’t know Sirius’ voice could sound that soft.

“It’s –”

Before he can finish, Sirius lips are on his.

Sirius is kissing him?

Sirius is kissing him.

Him!

In his shock, Remus had forgotten how to move.

A second later Sirius pulled away, fear palpable on his face, tears starting to well in his eyes. Before Remus can register why that’s the case, Sirius moves to step away.

Oh no, Remus thinks, you don’t get to walk away now.

Before he can form a full thought, Remus has shot forward and grabbed onto Sirius’ face with both hands. A second later and he has his lips flush against Sirius’. This time, he remembers how to move.

After a moment of shock himself, Sirius catches up. Wrapping one arm around Remus’ waist and bringing the other up to wrap his hand around the back of Remus’ neck, he pulls them closer. Invigorated by this, Remus moves his hands away from Sirius’ face, running them down the boy’s arms and grabbing tightly onto his hips.

I have you, he thinks, I’m never letting go.

With the arm he had wrapped around Remus waist Sirius runs his hand along the other boy’s hip, up his stomach and across his chest before clutching onto his jumper and pulling him even closer. His other hand is tangled in the back of Remus’ pillow soft curls. He can’t imagine ever letting Remus go. He thinks he might forget how to breathe if the other boy gets more than a centimeter away. All he can think about is getting closer.

In this moment, Sirius starts to believe that sticky sweet myth about the god who split humans in two, condemning them to a life spent searching for their other half. He’s never paid much heed to stories of love, they never seemed to matter. He’d never been able to see himself in those stories. But here, as he breaths in the scent of fresh parchment and chocolate and tastes the firewhisky and tobacco on Remus’ breath - as he basks in the warmth of the moonshine boy – he starts to wonder if it’s possible after all.

Remus can’t seem to remember what his world looked like a minute ago. All he knows now is the smell of honey and leather, the taste of cigarettes, and the warmth of the other boy’s mouth. All he can feel is Sirius’ fingers tangled in his hair and the heat of two bodies pressed together.

This, Remus thinks, this might be it. Eden.

No, he thinks harder, then remembers;

Elysium.