Sirius climbs up the wooden, creaky stairs hurriedly, fuzzy socks nearly making them slip. They make it to the top of the stairs, nearly out of breath, but don't stop until they get to their room at the end of the hall, next to James’. The second the door closes behind Sirius, they already have their phone out of their sweater’s pocket.
They flop down on the, mostly, unmade bed and stare at the screen. A picture of Remus’ floppy curls on Sirius’ lap stares back at them, the time indicating it’s 2 minutes to 20:00 pm.
Two minutes left, then.
Sirius waits, barely stopping themselves from kicking their feet. They stare at the screen. Their reflection stares back at them in anticipation.
Any minute now.
The phone rings.
Sirius slides their finger across the screen to accept the call, rolling on their back instantly the second they hear Remus’ voice. “Hi.”
Sirius sighs. “Hello, you.”
“Can you facetime?”
“Yeah, hold on.”
They roll to their stomach, the screen lighting up before she presses the Facetime icon and waits in anticipation.
And there he is.
Bathed in gold from what she now knows is the tall lamp in his bedroom that they got last summer from his grandmother’s house, in a jumper that Sirius got for him from that small business down the street from their flat, and that smile at the sight of which Sirius’ insides simply melt.
“Hi.”
“Hi, my love.” Remus’ velvety voice fills the room, his smile stretching into a lazy grin. “How was the baking?”
“Oh,” Sirius begins, unable to hold back her grin “it was wonderful.”
“Yeah?”
“Well,” She tilts her head thoughtfully, “a wonderful disaster. But Effie did some damage control so the wonderful part prevailed.”
“Of course.” Remus chuckles, a soft thing that is followed by a fond eye-roll. “So, what are the plans for the rest of the night?”
“Well, actually I don’t have a lot of time to talk” Sirius admits with an apologetic grimace “I’ll need to go back soon to help prepare dinner. Monty’s sister is visiting, so it’ll be an early dinner and probably board games.”
“That’s okay. I want you to have fun.”
“I’d have more fun with you here.” Sirius says, moving closer to the screen and pouting. The little frame on the top left is filled with Sirius’ pouty grimace and looking quite silly. It has the desired effect when Remus' laughter fills the room.
“You will love every second of it and you know it.” He says. He reaches behind him out of frame to fix the pillows, and settles back more comfortably. His phone must be resting on his stomach, and Sirius wants to scream at the thought of her lying on top of him and having this view in real life. They’d probably shove their head under his jumper and kiss him where it tickles, and Remus would call them a menace.
“I will, yeah.” Sirius sighs, falling to the side. She props her chin on her hand and quickly tucks the hair falling in front of her face behind her ears, trying not to think of how much she misses Remus doing it for her.
“Crush them all at monopoly on my behalf.”
Sirius laughs, throwing her head back slightly. Remus can be seen grinning at her through the screen. Sirius wishes she could kiss it.
“I will try to make you proud, Moony.” She promises.
“Good.” He nods solemnly, before a comfortable silence falls between them. They both take each other in for a few seconds, Sirius dangerously close to start thinking of how much she misses him.
It could be quite dangerous. Sirius has tried very hard for the past two weeks not to acknowledge the distance between them and focus more on the anticipation that surrounds their daily calls and on how lovely it feels to be back home with the Potters.
“How is the set-up coming along?” Sirius asks, changing the subject quickly. She doesn’t want to linger on the sadness that comes with Remus’ absence, opting instead to spend the time remaining before she’s needed downstairs to hear about Remus’ day.
“Oh, I’m afraid that’s a pure disaster sans the wonderful element.”
“Nooo,” Sirius laughs, sitting up a bit, invested in the story. “Is Glenda giving you problems?”
“Glenda is the least of my problems right now,” He snorts, running a hand through his hair to push it away from his forehead. He is in desperate need of a haircut, but Sirius cherished the sigh of Remus’ little frown whenever the curls fell back into his face too much to point it out. After all, he won’t be able to get a haircut until they’re back in London, so she gets to enjoy Remus being adorable for a little longer.
“Her stall is ready to go, no fuss there. It’s old Hari this time.”
“Hari, which one is that?” Sirius frowns, trying to recall all of Remus’ hometown shop owners that participate in the town’s festival. They reckon it might be the man who owns the charity shop but they think his name started with an ‘A’.
“You remember Hari, he owns the antique shop with his wife. Right next to Sophie’s souvenir shop?”
“Oh, Hari and Martha! Yes, yeah, I remember him. With all the caramel candies.”
“Oh god, I forgot about those.” Remus groans, banging his head against the headboard in exasperation. Sirius recalls fondly memories of last summer, their strolls around the town square and how each time they passed by Hari’s shop on their way to the coffee shop they would get stopped by the man himself who insisted on supplying them with hard caramel candy. Remus insisted that the candy was ages old but Sirius always laughed, accepted the candy with a smile, and then proceeded to stash it in her pockets without eating it. It was a sweet gesture, nonetheless.
“What did he do?”
“Well, he was late to submit on where exactly he wanted his stall to be so now the only remaining place is near the end of the festival, near the grocery store. He, then. proceeded to complain about it, claiming that the whole town hates him.” Remus explains, his tone more sad than exasperated.
Sirius frowns. “Poor Hari.”
“Yeah. So there I am, trying to come up with good reasons as to how his place is actually the best one in the festival. I had to convince Bill to move his mulled wine stand to the other side of the square so there would be more people near Hari’s stall. It was a nightmare.” He sighs at the end, rubbing his eyes tiredly as if reliving all of it. They know Remus’ townsfolk could be a handful and Remus would often complain, but they don't think he is even aware of how much he adores them all. Yet, there he is, running around and making sure one old man’s sulking is fixed to ensure everyone will have a good time.
“It’s a good thing you did, though.” Sirius says, trying to highlight the positive outcome of it.
“Yeah, I know… Plus, Martha told me it’s just him being a bit grumpy and wanting more attention in his old days. So, yeah. It’s fine.” He shrugs, downplaying his contribution as always.
“You love it.”
“I don’t.”
Sirius grins, looking like the cat that got the cream. “You love it so much.”
“Pads, I don’t.” Remus insists with a frown.
“You kick your feet and giggle into a pillow every time you help someone.”
“I do no such thing.” Remus presses, trying to bite back a smile.
“Yeah, you do. Look at you smiling!”
He stops smiling then, deepening his frown in an attempt to school his expression.
“Better now.” Sirius nods solemnly, indulging him. “Gloomy.”
“Anyways,” He sighs, “Everything is almost ready to go. Mam will have a knitting stall as well.”
“Ah, that’s lovely.” Sirius’ expression softens at the mention of Hope. She glances at the bedside table where the scarf Hope knitted her last year was laying, Sirius having thrown it there earlier today when they came back from their walk to town. “I really can’t wait.”
The plan is to travel to Wales in four days, just in time for the festival to be in full swing and for them to get to enjoy the fairy lights, the music, the spiced wine and the festivities hand in hand. Finally.
“I can’t wait either.” Remus says quietly, looking at her with that look she knew all too well. It’s normally followed by a kiss that has Sirius’ knees go weak. Stupid distance.
“Four days.”
“Four days, my love.” Remus repeats with a sigh. He settles further back, gazing at her through the screen with a tired smile. Suddenly, his eyes light up, remembering something that has him sit up. “Oh, I have something to tell you.”
“What, what?”
“Now,” He begins, his smile stretching into a grin “I am only telling you this because I know you will get emotional when mam shows you, so I want you to have time to process it and get to be all excited when she shows you.”
“Remus, what?”
“She has at least a dozen crates full of mandarins.” He states. Sirius frowns, trying to understand the hidden meaning behind it. “And she made dad plant a tree but that will take a few years to bear fruit.”
“I’m confused.” Sirius admits, sitting up a bit. “Why does she have 12 crates of mandarins?”
“For you.” Remus replies.
“For me.”
“Yeah.”
Sirius’ confusion intensifies. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Remus chuckles, tilting his head. “We were on the phone a few weeks back, and she told me how Alice’s trees were already bearing fruit and that her front yard was filled with mandarins and apples. I was like ‘Oh, Sirius loves mandarins. That’s nice’. I didn’t think of it, you know? I just said it. I think of mandarins, I think of how excited you get each winter when we get them at the Sunday market near our home.”
Our home. Sirius tries to will her heart to still, too invested in the story to let herself giggle at the casual display of Remus’ adoration.
“Next thing I know, I’m unpacking and she tells me to hurry to the back yard. I do, thinking that dad fell off the ladder again, but I open the back door to find her standing there all proud in a sea of orange.”
“Right.” Sirius says, equal parts confused and amused by Hope’s antics.
“So, I ask ‘Mam, why are we being attacked by mandarins?’. And all she says is ‘Sirius loves them!’. And that’s that.” He ends the story, his expression soft and waiting.
It takes a few seconds for it to register, but when it does Sirius gasps. “She didn’t.”
Remus lets out a snort. “Of course she did. She adores you.”
“She got them all for me?” Sirius asks in wonder. It always amazes her how generous the Potters and Lupins can be with their love, but to be at the receiving end of it just for the sake of love always strikes a cord in her.
Remus notices the way her voice went all soft, the light from the bedside lamp probably casting enough light to make the moisture in her eyes obvious even through the screen. “Yes, my love.”
“My sweet Hope…” Sirius shakes their head, trying to fathom the unconditional affection sent their way while at the same time wondering what it is they’ve done to deserve such people in their life.
“You deserve it.” He murmurs quietly, knowing Sirius well enough to know when she begins to doubt herself. It’s a lovely and much needed reminder, and makes her desire to be close to him even stronger. “So you better arrive with an appetite for hundreds of mandarins because dad already tried to reason with her on the amount of it and she heard none of it.”
Sirius laughs, a clear picture of Lyall trying to reason with Hope with uses of all sorts of pet-names forms in her mind. Hope, lovely Hope, stubborn as ever, refusing to listen. It’s such a funny scene, so familiar and warm, the epitome of love. A woman stubborn in both her beliefs and expression of love. This is where he takes it from, Sirius thinks. In all his resemblance to Lyall, his quiet nature and the way he carries himself, his fierce nature has Hope written all over it. His stubbornness, how passionate he is about his interests, how gentle and careful but also steady and unyielding his love feels.
And suddenly, the unshed tears fall, and Sirius is found crying on stupid Facetime with Remus being miles away.
“Oh, love. Sirius…” He coos, frowning with a gentle smile.
Sirius shakes her head, trying to reassure him that it’s all okay, there’s no need to worry, but the words won’t come out. She doesn’t want to start sobbing on call.
Logically, she knows that two weeks and four more days is not that bad. It isn’t, and they’ve gone much longer than that without each other’s company. But something tonight makes her feel more sensitive. The nostalgia hit her a bit harder than usual, as did seeing James and Lily together this morning during breakfast. The mention of Hopes’ acceptance, her thoughtfulness, the upcoming festival and how Remus always helps whoever as much as hints at needing it. Remus, sitting right there on the other side of the screen, solid and warm and so lovely yet so far away for Sirius to touch, to kiss and bury her face in his neck where his scent comes off stronger.She misses him, so much.
“Baby, it’s okay.”
Sirius tries not to let the soft reassurance set her off again, and instead wills herself to take a few calming breaths. She falls back on the bed eventually, holding her phone at arms length so Remus can have a perfect view of her from above, hair splayed out and nose flushed from crying.
“Okay?” He checks in, giving her time to regain her breathing.
“I’m okay, yes.” Sirius assures, taking a final shaky breath and settling further back into her pillows.
“Please, don’t cry when I’m not there to kiss you and make you feel better.”
It’s said with so much love, it nearly sets Sirius’ off again, but they do a better job at holding it back this time. The warmth spreads in her chest nonetheless.
Remus’ smile has turned sad, and Sirius hates herself for causing it as much as she hates the distance that won’t allow her to lie in the same bed with Remus.
“I’m sorry.”
Remus shakes his head, having none of it. “Don’t apologise.”
“Okay.” Sirius whispers, and because they wanted to be more of a menace to lighten the mood: “Sorry.”
Remus snorts, a default reaction to Sirius’ antics, the warm hues and fondness making him glow. It brings a laugh to her lips, the sorrow of missing him being momentarily replaced by the familiar warmth that comes with loving him.
“You’re so beautiful.” Remus whispers, like it's just between them, a confession only for Sirius.
Their heart soars, but they stay silent. They move their fingers on the screen, tracing Remus’ face through glass, not actually touching the myriads of freckles, the warm skin that feels like home to all things good.
Remus catches the subtle movement and smiles. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Sirius says instantly. “I miss you.”
Remus smiles, and says simply: “I miss you.”
Another silence falls upon them, just as comfortable as the one before, but more charged with all the things unsaid. It’s okay, they will be voiced once they get close enough to feel the gentle caress of fingers, breaths falling upon lips.
“I need to go help with dinner.” Sirius says regretfully.
“Of course, Pads.” Remus says, quietly, understanding as ever. “I better go help mam. Last I saw her she had her bed covered in balls of yarn, trying to decide what colours to keep for us and what to use for the festival.”
Sirius chuckles, nodding quietly. With a deep breath, she pushes herself into a sitting position, rubbing a hand all over her face to remove any traces of tears. “Call me tomorrow?”
“I will, love. Let me know when you go to bed.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” Sirius promises. They rest their cheek where their knee is bent and let their eyes flicker all over Remus’ face. “I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon, my love. Have fun tonight.”
“You too. Tell your parents I said hi.”
“I will.” Remus promises. “Go. I love you.”
“Love you.” Sirius calls back. They hesitate for a second, desperate to look at Remus for a second longer, the way the warm light lights up his hair from behind, the slope of his nose and his cupid’s bow where he has exactly three freckles.
He smiles, a silent promise that the days will pass quicker than they think. A promise that they will be together sooner than later, hand in hand, drunk of spiced wine, laughter, and love.
That’s all Sirius thinks of when they hang up, as they climb off their bed and down the stairs. Soon, they will kiss every knuckle on Remus’ calloused fingers, let him pull her close in the street and kiss their forehead as they tease him about this and that. Soon he will be peeling mandarins for them, Sirius accepting them absentmindedly, too busy pouring over Remus’ baby pictures with Hope. Soon they will lie together, unable to tell where one begins and the other ends, and all that will be heard is heavy breaths panting over and over three little words, like a prayer, like the sacred thing it is.
Soon.