Chapter 2
August, 1994.
There’s a wet dog at his doorstep.
Remus stares as it lets itself in. Wet footsteps darken the wooden floor of his small flat. When Remus finally collects himself to turn, he is no longer facing a wagging tail but a very dirty man.
He’s gotten thinner than the last he’d seen him, if that even was possible. Murky brown water drips from his fur coat.
"I’m sorry it took me so long," he speaks casually, "I went to our old place, but you weren't there. They said you’d moved, but wouldnt tell me where—“
"You talked to them?"
"They're muggles, Moony."
His tone is of the same nonchalance he knows belongs to Sirius Black, but his voice is closer to a stranger's, hoarse and weak.
"Anyone could have seen you."
"They didn't."
Remus opens his mouth to say something, but he finds himself at a loss of words. He sighs. "Are you going to stay?"
"I... that was the plan."
Sirius looks confused, uncertain - after all, Remus had told him that he’d forgiven him the last time that they’d seen each other. And sure, Remus thought he did, in the heat of the moment, his heart with more control over him than his mind, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. The longer he looked at the smaller man (Remus had always been the taller of the two ever since his growth spurt in fourth year, but he had never thought of Sirius as small— yet here he was standing in front of him looking smaller than any person he’d ever laid his eyes upon) the more angry he felt, the more upset.
"Do you not want me to?"
Sirius Black’s voice is almost unrecognisable with this much uncertainty in it.
Remus doesnt answer.
After the incident a couple months back, after Remus had gotten himself back into his flat away from his old life again, after he’d found enough calm away from everything to think, there was not a single moment in his life when remus wasn’t thinking about the fact that Sirius had doubted him. That twelve years ago, he had been certain that Remus was the traitor.
And then he’d think about fifth year when he’d exposed him to Snape, and then in his mind every thought led down to the inevitable conclusion : Sirius Black had always seen him as a dark creature. In his eyes, Remus had always just been a werewolf, not a boy. How stupid must he have been to believe otherwise?
"How did you find me, anyway?"
"Waited til full moon,” Sirius looks up almost immediately at the question, the uncertainty of his voice slowly replaced by a certain smugness. “Could smell you, then."
Remus can’t help but to picture Padfoot roaming through the streets, sniffing the air, cold, feral, starved, determined.
Fuck.
He wants him out of his life. He wants to eat him alive.
"You need a bath," is what he finally says.
Remus walks over to the bathroom, Sirius takes a second before nervously following across his tiny flat. It’s just a mattress and a bath, a sink and a laundry machine. That’s all there is for him to see, and Remus feels a bit naked.
He runs the water for him, lays out some clothes. He’s had the shirt since the last time he was around. Remus wonders if Sirius remembers it.
"Towel's in the cupboard."
He turns to leave, but Sirius grabs onto his wrists frantically.
"Can you stay, please?" He sounds scared. He’s never seen Sirius like this. He was always confident, bigger than life, prideful, never ever admitting vulnerability. Even when he’d come back from holidays with scars, he never seemed vulnerable. Even when he was naked and bare, even when his eyes were bloodshot with tears— "I’m not asking you to wash me. I’m not asking you to do anything, really, just... please don’t leave me alone.”
He sounds nothing like the Sirius he knows, nothing even like the man he saw a couple months ago. In the shack he had been dramatic as always, almost manic. He stood up firm in front of his godson. Now he was just frail.
Remus doesn’t know what to say, so he nods, lights a cigarette.
His eyes are fixed on the ground as Sirius loses the coat, as he enters the bath stripped bare. Cigarette smoke fogs the tiny room.
"I missed that smell." Sirius says.
Remus doesnt say anything.
He’s awfully thin.
Remus wants to ask him why he didn't come to him last year. But he doesn’t. Years ago, Remus had constantly imagined what he'd say if he ever got to see him again (Why didn’t you kill me?) but now that he had the man crawled up in front of him, he was at a loss.
"I'm sorry, it’s just... it was always so awfully quiet. So... alone. When it gets like that, I just—"
"It's alright, I'll stay."
"I'm sorry, Moony." Sirius cranes his neck to look up at him. "I really am."
Remus knows he’s not talking about the bath anymore, but he doesn't say anything.
The last thing he wants is to feel sorry for Sirius.
Remus brings another cigarette to his lips after finishing the last one, thin fingers suddenly coming to a stop as he contemplates asking Sirius if he wants one. He turns his gaze, but Sirius shakes his head before the question is even out of his mouth.
"I never even liked it, you know."
"What?"
"Just thought you looked so cool," he smiles weakly. "And it was a good excuse to head out alone with you."
"But you started in fourth year," Remus feels lightheaded, almost like it’s marijuana instead of tobacco that he’s inhaling right now. He feels a stupid urge to check, even when he knows that he can’t even afford spliffs. He’s not sure if it’s the smoke in an enclosed space, or if it’s the thought of them back in their Hogwarts years. Maybe it’s just Sirius Black. "You were with Emmeline Vance."
He just hums lightly. Remus stares. He thinks this all might just be a really weird dream.
"I noticed you don't have a player. Don't you listen to music anymore?"
"No."
"Nothing?"
"No."
"Bummer. I missed it loads in azkaban."
He gets himself up out of the bath, and Remus instinctively looks away like he's been burned. It shouldn't feel this criminal to see a body he'd seen a thousand times before, but it does. When he glances back with a towel in his outstretched hand, he can’t help but to think that Sirius looks hurt.
He's awfully thin.
"Moony?" he whispers at the floor.
"Yeah?"
It's the first time in twelve years that he's responded to this name.
"Can you sing me something?"
Changing into his clothes, Remus' clothes— they’re too big on him and Remus feels his chest tighten—Sirius scans his face nervously.
It feels out of character for him but at his request Remus' mind can’t help but to produce a tune. If he just so as opens his mouth he knows it will come spilling out. For a moment Remus thinks that maybe Sirius never even needed to learn about the Imperius curse. All he had to do was ask.
It aired last december on MTV— it was the day he showed up to Drew's place for the first time in four months. He couldn't bear staying in Hogwarts through winter break, and he couldn’t bear being alone in his flat either. Drew told him he'd started seeing someone. He didn't tell him to leave, though, so they sat on his bed with a drink that was more sugar than tea and watched the telly. It was this American band, Nirvana's version of a Bowie song. He thought of Sirius when he'd heard the man sing.
The gaze fixed on him is soft but unsure. And just as it turns sad, averting, Remus opens his mouth despite himself.
We passed upon the stairs
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there
He said I was his friend
Sirius' eyes light up. Remus thinks it's the most himself he's looked in a while.
He leans against the sink next to where Remus stands, and lifts the half-burnt cigarette away from his hands and slips it between his lips. Remus watches as they close around where he's wet it. When he exhales, the smoke hits his cheeks and it feels like a kiss.
Which came as a surprise
I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone
A long long time ago
September, 1994.
"But you moved on!" Sirius yells.
It’s a Sunday morning, and the breeze is finally starting to feel a bit chilly. It had rained the other day. Seasons change, life goes on. Everything seemed a bit surreal to Remus. He was barely catching up to what had happened over the summer.
"What?"
"It’s like we were never even real! You left our flat, threw my things away, our things away—"
"Because I couldn’t bear seeing them!"
"Well, they were ours, Moony!" He doesn’t specify what he means by things, but Remus knows without saying.
The record collection.
It had been their thing. Sirius would risk everything every summer and winter to somehow find muggle rock albums and hide them away from his parents, smuggle them back to Hogwarts, and then he would lay them out in front of Remus like a proud dog with a stick. In front of Remus. Not James, but Remus. It was the first thing that they could call their thing. Remus had always brought some too, though they were cheaper than Sirius’, the jackets always ragged and the vinyls always second-hand. Remus had always felt ashamed, then, looked at Sirius’ shiny new ones with awe. What he never knew, though, was that Sirius had always thought his were cooler. That Sirius, at times, would bend and scratch at his own to make it look more like Moony’s cool records.
And then over time the records were no longer Sirius’ new ones or Remus’ cool ones, they were just theirs.
"You threw them away like it’s nothing and then you went on and fucked other people—“
Remus barks out a violent laugh.
His eyes are wide and threatening, disbelieving, out of sanity. Sirius’ match.
"Oh, I’m sorry, did you not just fuck him, did you love him too? Was he your fucking boyfriend?"
"Are you mad?"
Remus can’t believe what he’s hearing. He knows exactly what he’s talking about, but he just can’t fathom how ridiculously audacious one had to be to bring this up.
They ran into Drew the other day.
Sirius wanted to go for a walk, and Remus thought it’d be alright as long as he stayed as Padfoot the whole time. After all, he hadn’t been out of the house in nearly a month. They went grocery shopping, which meant Remus bought milk, eggs, sugar and cigarettes and Padfoot just sniffed around. Then there Drew was.
Remus, he said. I take it you’re back from Wales now?
Erm. Yeah, sort of.
Is that yours? I thought you hated dogs.
I never said that.
Hmm, I think you did. You were ghostly around that dog I babysat.
Was I?
It’s nice seeing you, Remus. You can still come over sometimes, you know, even if…
I will.
Remus made some stupid excuse about the laundry being out in the rain, then they parted ways. Sirius had asked him who he was afterwards, to which Remus had casually answered ‘friend from work’. But he knew that he knew.
"Am I not allowed to be upset over you shagging other people when we were never over?"
“Never over?” Remus laughs incredulously. “Twelve years, you were gone!” He’s downright roaring know. He can’t control it. His blood feels physically hot. “Twelve years!”
“And I was in Azkaban!” He screams.
Remus slams his arm across the dinner table, tea spilling into the Daily Prophet (Is Hogwarts Safe with Murderer Sirius Black on the Loose?). He picks up the mug and hauls it across the room, the sharp sound of porcelain shattering breaking the sickening silence of the room. Sirius looks up at him with wide eyes. He looks scared, and Remus hates that. His bloody hand trembles.
”I’m sorry. But you drive me, fuckinginsane.” He’s crying. “Do you think I wanted to fuck other people? Wanted to throw our shit away? Wanted to throw up in absolute shame and horror and heartbreak every time I touched skin that wasn’t yours? It took me years, Sirius. A decade. And I was so, close, to being fine, so close, and now you’re back and I just don’t know whatever the fuck I should do with you!”
The quiet is deafening.
No one says anything for what feels like a lifetime.
Then,
”Touch me.”
“What?”
”You should touch me. Not flinch whenever I’m near you like I’m… please just touch me. You don’t even have to hold me, just touch my arm or something.”
“Sirius, I…”
”Am I not yours anymore?”
The last sentence is uttered so quietly that Remus almost doesn’t catch it. But he does.
Even when their dynamic had quite often been proven to be the other way around, they had always reassured each other that Sirius was Remus'. It had almost been their thing—after all, Sirius always had a desire to belong and to be kept, Remus always had a desire to possess something of his own.
It’s almost too close to the full for Remus to resist his urges. Though ironically, his urges are what feels the most human to him in this moment.
Remus kisses him.
Sirius lays down on his bed, pulling Remus down with him. It’s the first time hes laid there since he came back—he would always sleep as Padfoot on a pillow Remus had placed on the foot of the mattress for him.
When Remus parts their bodies to look down at him, he whines and frantically grabs at his neck to pull him back down. Remus doesn’t follow, though. He stares at the inked skin below him, Remus' shirt too big on his body, rolled up to just below his chest. Belly up, a feral part of him thinks. Belly up like a good dog. He dips his head down, licking a long stripe along his stomach. It’s still way too thin, but he’s gained some weight since he’d first seen him after Azkaban. Remus bites into the soft skin next to his belly button. Sirius makes a small sound.
He moves up, sliding Sirius' shirt up along as he does, pulling the fabric above his head. He rubs his nose at the dip of his shoulders. It’s something that happens too easily, without him even realising what hes doing. It surprises him, now, because what he’s doing is he’s rubbing his scent on him. Like a canine would to claim. He tries to stop, but Sirius arches his neck up back onto his skin.
Yours, he whispers. Tell me im yours.
Mine, mine, mine, mine, he replies feverishly. He bites into his collarbone. All I ever wanted was to have you.
You have me.
Always had me.
Always will.