The Middle Of A Circle
It had been a week since that moment in Remus’ kitchen. Sirius didn’t know what to call it. It felt like the start, middle and end of something—a naked circle that encompassed them. They bore the raw edges of their souls to each other, asking for nothing in return but compassion. It wasn’t just a confession of feelings—it was a revelation of unbroken loyalty and yearning and love. That even despite the betrayal they both thought that occurred, they were still helplessly, hopelessly aching for each other.
Remus was his boyfriend, but he was also a part of Sirius that he’d lost and found again. ‘Boyfriend’ didn’t quite match the intrinsic, divine nature of their being together.
Sirius knew this deep-felt connection should be impossible at just the first week. That the intensity between them was either delusions on his part, or a severe case of the honeymoon phase. But it was true. He knew Remus felt it too.
He knew that Remus hadn’t even figured out his own feelings for Sirius until that moment in the kitchen. That even when they were in school, he never quite understood why Sirius played footsie with him, or why his heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. He didn’t know why looking at him, even seven years later, made him feel lightheaded. Or why he had unconsciously committed every curve of his face to memory.
But that day in the kitchen, when Sirius spilled out his soul, it had all come into perfect focus. All these years, this lingering feeling that had haunted Remus, disguised itself as fear upon seeing Sirius for the first time, had been love.
How did Sirius know this? Because Remus whispered it all into the crook of his neck that morning in the kitchen, his arms wrapped tightly around Sirius’ waist, his body pressing him against the kitchen counter.
They stayed that way for so long, entwined lovers suspended in time, broken only by the revelations confessed into his shoulder. Had Remus not been holding him so tightly, Sirius would’ve floated right off the ground with the joy he felt, hearing reciprocation.
Throughout the following week, he certainly was floating. Cloud nine had nothing on him. He remained unaffected by cat callers on the street, or the shitty drivers honking at him as he crossed, and cheerily hung up on his cousin Bella when she nagged him about family affairs once again. And every time he got a text or call from Remus, Sirius floated a little higher.
Remus usually came over to his apartment when they had free time, because he could usually see James and Peter too. Only when James was at rehearsal and Peter was busy at the firm did Sirius go over to Remus’. They always had the apartment to themselves—the still-faceless roommate was never there—Remus told him he was at rehearsals as the group’s pianist.
They usually laid together on the couch, Sirius sprawled over Remus as he read a book. He was still learning his boundaries—he knew not to move suddenly when he was on top of him, and not to get up onto his hands and lean over him. It was a work in progress—Remus would flinch or stiffen whenever these things happened, which was always immediately followed by guilt. He’d look away from him in shame and his mouth was twist bitterly. Sirius learned to slowly sink back down and not to move, to wait until Remus looked at him. He could talk, usually that helped bring him back a little sooner. He’d tell him it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing wrong with him.
“I hate that it’s you.” Remus whispered bitterly. “That even with you it happens. I don’t want it to happen with you. To make you think that anything you do could remind me of him.”
“I don’t think that.” Sirius murmured. “I know you don’t think that either. It’s just movement, Moony. It’s not your fault.”
“I wish he would stop following me.” He said thickly. “Seven years later and stuck behind bars, and he’s still following me.”
“I know.” Sirius slowly moved his hand, mindful to keep it in Remus’ view, and gently laced their fingers together. He didn’t flinch that time.
——
When Sirius wasn’t hanging out with Remus, or working on his painting, he was working with Lily and Dorcas. Efforts for Remus’ gala outfit were already in full swing—Sirius and Dorcas were designing the jewelry, custom made at The Metal Crow, while he and Lily fought over the styles for the outfit and makeup. Lily wanted to do an elevated version of a classic design, but Sirius wanted to do more glam for the makeup and wild for the hair. Neither would work without the other, and half of their group chat with Dorcas was spent between them bickering. He was constantly spamming Lily with Pinterest ideas just as much as she bombarded him with her own. Dorcas, clearly the more level-headed of the three, only sent updates on her work and an occasional dry comment into the chat.
He knew, regardless of which side won, Remus would look fantastic. He already did.
——
The gala was in a five days. Lily, Dorcas, and Sirius had been working their asses off to get the outfit completed in time, and today was Remus’ final fitting.
They were all in Lily’s living room, the latter fussing over how the fabric was laying on the mannequin. Dorcas was carefully polishing her pieces at the dining table, rechecking her measurements. Sirius was pacing frantically, worried out of his mind.
What if Remus didn’t like it? What if it was too much, or wasn’t his style? They’d already agreed not to tell him how much it had cost Sirius to pay for everything—even a slight hint of the total would send Remus into a spiral.
He knew it was worrying over nothing—they’d been good to get Remus’ approval for things like color and flashiness, ensuring he liked their ideas without spoiling the final look.
He just wanted Remus to go into the gala with all the confidence he deserved.
There was a knock at the door before it swung open.
“Hey guys,” Remus called from the foyer.
“Living room!” Lily replied, tugging at the sash. A moment later, he appeared from around the corner. His eyes immediately fell on Sirius, and a grin split his face that made his heart flutter.
“Hey, Pads.” He murmured, never looking away from him as he approached, bending down to press a kiss to his cheek. Sirius’ face went aflame, pleased by such outwardly casual affection.
He caught Dorcas waggling her eyebrows at him teasingly, and subtly flipped her off.
“Hey, Moons.” He replied quietly. “How was your day?”
“I watched Vince and Tony get their asses handed to them by Marlene for making fun of her new piercing.” Remus chuckled. “It was quite entertaining. How was yours?”
“Hopefully good,” he replied nervously. “I hope you like everything.”
“I’m sure I will. I trust you guys.”
“Good to know we’re included in that.” Lily interjected, amused. The two looked around. Sirius had almost forgotten they were there.
“Hi, Remus.” She said pointedly, without any real malice. Remus laughed.
“Hey, Lily, Dorcas.”
“Hello, Remus. Are you ready to see the final look?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
That was when Remus finally turned to the mannequin, and he stopped short. Sirius’ stomach immediately went into knots. Lily and Dorcas watched him calmly, critically.
Lily’s insistence for elevated classic had won out. She argued that while the gala was sure to have a few experimental designs, it wasn’t the Met Gala, where it was more about the artistry than anything else. It was a white tie event for artists, which meant it was best to remain in the world of the classic while subtly pushing it beyond a basic tux silhouette. And, there was plenty of room for Dorcas to create some statement pieces to stand out, rather than get lost in any extreme design.
It also meant they’d be putting Remus in something that was familiar. They all knew he didn’t like to stand out. This was a compromise between blending in and separating from the crowd.
It was a warm brown double breasted suit with tapered pants and glossy brown Chelsea boots. An amber satin scarf began inside the flap of the suit jacket and wrapped around the waist, falling just a few inches from the floor from the opposite hip.
Dorcas’ jewelry was a statement ear cuff that looked like organic swirls of gold. It followed the exact curve of Remus’ ear, and ended with a droplet that hung like a piercing. A matching necklace hugged the base of Remus’ neck, perfectly filling in the space of bare chest the suit showed. She had made a collection of rings in organic shapes and styles for him to choose from.
“Holy fuck.” Remus croaked. “I…you…you made all this?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Lupin.” Lily snorted.
“No, I mean…they’re incredible.”
“So, you like it?” Sirius asked hesitantly.
“It’s incredible.” Remus repeated, dumbfounded. “I love it.”
“Let’s get it on then!” Lily said, carefully removing the pieces and giving them to him. “Bathroom’s right there. If you need help, I’ll send in Sirius.”
Spluttering, Remus was shoved into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, it opened a crack.
“Er…” He began sheepishly. And that was how Sirius got shoved into the bathroom too.
It was incredibly small, and they were immediately pressed up against each other.
“Uh.” Sirius said dumbly. The suit jacket was open, revealing Remus’ bare torso. He was distracted at once, taking in the lean figure before him, marked up by pale scars and freckles. He’d never seen him without a shirt before, and a thrum of want pulsed through him at the sight of so much skin.
Remus cleared his throat awkwardly. Immediately ashamed of himself, Sirius tore his eyes away to look at him.
“I can’t get the sash right,” he said quietly. Their legs were slotted between each other. The bathroom was feeling hot.
“Oh,” Sirius’ voice cracked a bit, and he cleared it quickly. “right. It’s a little tricky.”
His hands shook slightly as they reached up to tuck the sash into the jacket. Remus’ arms were resting on the sink, pinning him between them. He could feel his breath on his cheek, and his entire body throbbed with want.
But he knew Remus’ boundaries. He wasn’t ready for that yet. There was still so much they had to learn about each other first, and even then, he might never want to do that. Sirius was okay with it, he was always going to be, but that didn’t mean he could shut off the desire he felt seeing him.
He carefully did the last two buttons of the jacket, and looped the sash around Remus’ waist, bending into him a little to bring it around and tie it to his hip. Perhaps he was imagining it, but it sounded like Remus’ breathing was getting a little heavier.
Once it was finished, Sirius straightened himself, and their eyes met. Immediately, both of them forgot the world around them, stuck in this moment with the chemistry crackling between them.
“Sirius…” Remus breathed, almost like a warning, maybe a plea.
“I won’t.” He whispered back.
“I want—I wish—“
“You don’t have to.”
“But I want to.” He sounded pained. “I just can’t.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I want…maybe if you move first I won’t…Padfoot, please—“
Sirius couldn’t understand what Remus wanted. There was so many things he wanted to do, but what did he want?
“I don’t want to do anything unless you want to.” He said quietly. “And I don’t know what that is unless you tell me, or you do it.”
Remus closed his eyes with a long breath, pressing their foreheads together. Slowly, nervously, his lips brush the tip of his nose. Sirius’ skin tingled.
“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. Sirius’ heart skipped a beat. His eyes fluttered shut as Remus’ lips moved, tracing delicately over his lashes and cheek, brushing the underside of his jaw. Sirius clutched at the lapels of his jacket, biting back whimpers. Every tiny touch, every vague brush of skin felt amplified by ten.
Remus’ lips moved upwards, and he felt them just barely brush his own. A whine escaped him then, begging for full contact.
But then, he was gone, pulling away from him just enough to give them both fresh air. Sirius still held onto his jacket, trying to reel himself back in. His entire body felt fit to burst, and he felt completely overstimulated, and nothing had even happened.
“Jesus fuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back as reality came back into focus.
“What that okay?” Remus asked nervously.
“Okay?” Sirius wheezed. “That was more than okay, Moony. Fucking hell, you’re killing me.”
“Sorry, I—“
“Don’t apologize. Not for that. You…you could do that to me whenever you fucking wanted.”
Remus’ stiff body relaxed.
“Good. Okay. I’m…I can do that.”
A loud banging on the door made them both jump.
“You two better not be christening my bathroom!” Lily hollered.
“Nothing of the sort!” Sirius shouted. “Coming out!”
They both squeezed out of the bathroom, and were immediately accosted by Lily and Dorcas.
“Remus, you look amazing!” She squealed, already fussing with the way the sash lay. “Ooh Dorcas, your pieces are going to look incredible on him!”
Remus was dragged by the girls to the dining table and put through the next step in the process, leaving Sirius to linger in the bathroom doorway, lost in what had just happened.
He stared at the boy in front of him, obediently following Dorcas’ directions with an innocence that did not match the sexually stimulating god that he’d been mere moments ago. If Remus’ lips barely brushing his skin had caused Sirius feel like he was about to explode, he couldn’t imagine what more would do to him, if more happened. Would he simply implode at the touch of his hand? Burst into a trillion atoms at his tongue?
Sirius blinked, snapping himself out of his impure thoughts. He had to go slow. Remus might not ever be ready for that. That was okay. It might even be for the best. If a vague brush of his lips was enough simulation, perhaps it was for the best they didn’t go further. Sirius genuinely thought he might die.
As he roused himself from his thoughts, he realized Dorcas as finished the final touches. Remus stood before him in all his perfect glory, looking absolutely stunning.
Gone was the awkwardly lanky boy in corduroy and wool and frizzy auburn waves. He looked like a runway model—the suit perfectly highlighted his long legs and wide shoulders, accented his tapered waist and fit backside in a way that made Sirius want to scream into a pillow like a teenage girl. The golden jewelry dripped from him like molten gold, complimenting his warm skin and hazel eyes.
He was beautiful. He always had been. The outfit simply brought out a side of Remus no one had ever seen before—Sirius could see the newfound confidence just in the way he held his shoulders. Remus drew himself up to his full height as he looked in the mirror, rather than hunching to blend in. A giddy, subconscious smile danced on his lips as he touched the jewelry and played with the sash, like he couldn’t believe in his own reflection.
Sirius knew he’d already told Remus he was falling in love with him. He also knew they’d only been dating a week. He knew they were still seven years removed from each other’s lives and there were ugly parts of each other they hadn’t shown yet, but he didn’t care. Because right in front of him was a boy that was his future, his everything. He’d never been so sure of something unknown in his life—he belonged with him.
——
“Will you go to the gala with me?”
The question was asked casually over dinner one night at Sirius’, but the nervous twiddling of his fork betrayed Remus’ tone. James was at rehearsal and Peter was in his room studying, leaving the two of them to eat together at the table.
Sirius paused mid-chew, surprised.
“It’s just…well, we’re allowed to bring a plus one and we’re together,” Remus rambled, taking his pause as a negative. “and I don’t really want to go alone, I’d like to have someone to talk to and be comfortable with, but it’s okay if you don’t want to—“
Sirius reached over to took Remus’ hand, stopping the twirling fork.
“‘Course I’ll go with you, Moons.” He smiled. “S’just that I’m already going.”
Remus blinked. “What?”
“I’m like Effie and Monty’s second son,” he laughed. “James and Peter are going too. We’ve always gone to the gala. Sorry, I thought you knew.”
“Oh. I didn’t.” He huffed a chuckle and set the fork down. “I thought I’d be going alone, honestly.”
“Why don’t you bring your roommate as your plus one?” Sirius suggested. “Since I’m already going, you’ve still got a free spot. It’ll be nice to have another person you’re comfortable with, right?”
“Yeah,” Remus mulled it over. “I don’t think art galleries are really his thing, but any excuse to dress up in his posh clothes might do the trick. Will they have good wine?”
Sirius rolled his eyes.
“It’s the MoMA. ‘Course they dish out for the good stuff.”
“Then I might just be able to convince him,” Remus grinned. “He’s a picky fucker.”
“The more I learn about him, the more I’m shocked you two are friends.” Sirius observed. “How exactly did that work out?”
Remus shrugged.
“We both had a silent understanding of each other. We didn’t have to talk about our shit—didn’t want to. We could both recognize that. I think we just grew to respect each other. He’s also got an incredibly dry sense of humor, so really we’re like peas in a pod.”
“He still sounds like a snob.” This roommate sounded an awful lot like Gilderoy Lockhart, which only made Sirius dislike him more.
“Oh he is,” Remus laughed. “but he’s also an incredibly hard worker, and he’s passionate about his goals and ambitions. He’s certainly a snob about his clothes and wine, but he’s not lazy.”
Well, at least there was one distinction.
“What’s his name?” Sirius asked. “I don’t think you’ve ever said.”
“Regulus.” Remus went back to twirling noodles around his fork, the nerves dissipated.
“Part of the Leo constellation.” He hummed. “That’s a nice name.”
“About as posh as your name.” Remus said slyly. Sirius clutched at his heart in mock offense.
“I am not posh!”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your thing with tea.” He shot back with a grin. “That’s just as snobby as Regulus and his wine.”
“That’s different!” Sirius insisted. “Tea is much more humble! And it’s not my fault people brew it wrong in America! Why is everyone afraid of kettles?”
“Easier to use a pot or a microwave. It’s just hot water and leaves!”
“Don’t get me started! You’re doing it on purpose!” Sirius pointed his fork at him accusingly. “You’re trying to get me all up in arms about tea to prove your point!”
“Yeah, and?”
“And I’m letting you!” Sirius slammed his fork down, stood up, and proceeded to rant to Remus about the proper tea brewing techniques for the following hour. He hoped if he talked long enough, Remus would give in and be the first to throw in the towel—but he just sat and listened to him attentively, wearing a triumphant smile the whole time.
Sirius couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad at losing this battle of wills. Once he’d exhausted his knowledge of tea, he’d forgotten why he’d started talking about tea in the first place.
——
Remus came home after dinner with Sirius to chaos—Barty and Evan trying to catch Regulus, all of them drunkenly chasing each other around the apartment. Pandora was passed out, snoring on their couch while Regulus tripped over books, laughing and stumbling to get away from the boys. Barty slipped on some music sheets and face planted into the floor, and Evan managed to snag Regulus’ ankle, resulting in both of them crashing headlong into the armchair and knocking over a tower of precariously stacked books.
Remus stared at them from the doorway, utterly stunned.
“Hello, Remus.” Pandora murmured, her eyes still closed.
“Hey! S’your sexy roomie!” Evan slurred. “Hiii sexy!”
“Keep your dick ‘way from him, Rosier!” Regulus grumbled from behind the armchair. “Don’t come any closer t’him, Remus! He’s a freak.”
“A freak in the sheets!” Barty cackled from the floor.
“Shut up, Barty!”
“What bar did you four devastate?” Remus asked, bewildered.
“Absinthe!” Barty and Evan crowed.
“Absinthe?” Remus repeated incredulously. “Regulus?”
“M’not responsable.” Regulus mumbled. “Responsive. It was such a pretty color, Remus.”
“How much of that stuff did you drink?”
“Enough t’make you shit green tomorrow!” Barty giggled.
“Alright,” Remus grabbed Regulus and lifted him to his feet. “C’mon, bedtime for you.”
Regulus whined. “I wanna sleep with Jacques.” He complained, slumping into Remus as he dragged him to his room.
“Who?”
“Mon acteur.” He slurred in very drunk French. “Je veux faire des câlins à mon acteur, Remus! I can’t sleep without him.”
“I’m sure you can.” Remus said complacently, having no idea what Regulus was saying.
“Jacques! Je veux Jacques!”
“Uh huh. Let’s get you to bed, Le Miserables.”
“I am miserable without him.” Regulus hiccuped. “I hate it.”
Remus threw his sheets over him, watching his usually stoic roommate cuddle his pillow and sniffle.
“Goodnight, Regulus.” He turned to leave.
“Remus?”
He looked back. Regulus’ eyes were half open, looking at him foggily.
“D’you believe there’s one person out there for you? Like, there’s lots of people you can love an’ fuck an’ have feelings for, but there’s one person who’s more than all that—who’s just…everything? Like water filling up your gaps? Do they exist?”
Remus paused, silver eyes and black hair flashing in his mind. Soft skin and a steady voice, always knowing what to say and how to say it. Even when Sirius was learning something new about him, he always did it the right way. Exactly the way Remus needed.
He was everything. He fit every single wound in his soul, made him whole just by laying with him, or touching his face, or breathing his air. With Sirius, Remus found himself healing in ways not even Pomfrey could have mended.
“Yeah, Regulus.” He said quietly. “I think they do.”
Regulus sniffled again.
“I was worried you’d say that.” He whispered.
Remus knew better than to ask why.
——
So the following morning, Remus woke up early. Pandora, bright and cheery like she’d never had a hangover in her life, wrangled Barty and Evan out of the apartment before Regulus crawled out of bed.
Remus put on coffee and made breakfast, setting out a bottle of aspirin for the inevitable hangover nightmare that was about to awake.
When Regulus did grace him with his presence, stumbling and glowering at the sunny windows like they were committing treason, Remus was sure to wait until the aspirin was in his system before asking,
“Will you go to the gala with me?”
Regulus flicked his eyes up from where they’d been squinting at the morning crossword, glaring at Remus for daring to talk while he was hungover.
“For your exhibition?”
“Yeah,” Remus set a plate full of food in front of him. “I’ve got a plus one. My boyfriend’s already going. He knows the curators. Want to come? There’ll be good wine.”
“I never want to drink alcohol again in my life.” Regulus grumbled, dragging the plate towards him and angrily munching on some toast.
“That’s a fat lie, and we both know it. It’s white tie, nice and posh for you.”
Regulus grunted.
“I’ve been promised Veuve Clicquot’s La Grande Dame will be there.” Remus needled. His roommate paused momentarily before side-eyeing him with another glare.
“Your pronunciation was terrible.” He said flatly. “…and fine. I’ll go.”
Remus tried to hide his amusement. “Only for the wine though, right?”
“Obviously.”