They lowered the lifeless bodies into their grave, the wands of all those who came to Lily and James’ funeral working as one to settle the couple once full of energy and hope into the dirt where they would forever remain.
As soon as they hit the ground, Sirius turned away, his head bent, face masked by the drizzle and a knitted wool hat.
James had given him this hat. In their third year, as a joke, he learned to knit and gave all the Marauders badly shaped lumps of yarn stitched into an almost bowl-like shape that were supposed to match, although none looked even remotely similar to the others.
Sirius’ was a light gray with a singular blob of neon orange (because James knew how much he hated green and claimed orange was “the exact opposite”) that was probably supposed to be some sort of design in front but had ended up slightly off center of the top like someone had cracked an egg on his head and the yolk had dripped down the sides.
The edges of the hat were frayed and a thread of yarn kept escaping its tucked position under the brim to hit him on the nose every few seconds, the wet string tickling his nostrils each time he inhaled, but he couldn’t bear to magic it away. Instead, he settled on tucking it behind his ear and hoping it would stay there.
He realized that he probably looked ridiculous to anyone watching. A man with dark circles painted under his eyes, a coat that was one size too big for him, and a lumpy piece of orange yarn on his head, standing in the drizzle of the funeral for perhaps one of the most famous couples in the wizarding world, all while a puddle of rain and mud filled up under his feet and the mourners around him tried to shove their way as gently as possible passed him to the front of the crowd.
Sirius glanced over to where Remus stood a few yards away with his eyes fixed on the bodies and saw the man wearing his own silver and blue hat, fallen apart to the point that you could see bits of his light brown hair from the back where the yarn had stretched and worn away.
Sirius bowed his head and tried to think of nothing but the way the misty rain clung to the blades of grass beneath his feet as he walked away from the ceremony and the people lamenting the terrible loss.
But he knew better. At least half of those at the funeral were secretly celebrating their mourning, knowing the grief and the fear of more grief was over.
After a safe enough distance had been reached he apparated, not realizing the destination he thought of at the last second until a wave washed up and coated his shoes in water and sand.
It was the beach, “Misty Bay” as James had christened it for its seemingly perpetual gray-ness, that they had the tradition of visiting each year the week after school let out or, after they graduated, the first week of June.
James had proposed to Lily on this beach.
Sirius had finally kissed Remus after months of longing looks and brief, just slightly more than platonic touches, on this beach.
They had found the hidden inlet after an apparition attempt gone wrong the summer after their fifth year and stayed for the rest of the day while they waited for James’ parents to find them and bring them home, and at the end of the day, they resolved to come back the next summer.
After two years, it had become a tradition.
Sirius stared listlessly, his arms hanging limply by his sides, at the frothy waves crashing on the shore as he remembered Lily saying she wanted to build a cottage out here one day, the dull pain in his heart sending thumping shockwaves through his brain at the realization that that was another something she and James could never do.
A fresh wave of pain hit him and he clenched his jaw at the reminder of Harry and the hole he would always have in his life, no matter how much he and Remus attempted to patch it.
Sirius felt a brief stab of worry for his godson-turned-legal-son, but assured himself the boy would be safe with the Tonks’ for the evening. Andromeda had graciously offered to take Harry temporarily to allow Sirius time to grieve without worrying about having a barely-toddler on his hands, which he accepted in relief and exhaustion.
A sharp crack to his left jerked Sirius from his thoughts. Remus stumbled slightly on the sand he’s just appeared on and looked wildly from side to side until his eyes landed on Sirius.
He turned away as Remus walked over slowly and stood beside him facing the open ocean, their arms just barely touching.
“I figured I’d find you here,” Remus said softly.
Sirius made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, studiously avoiding Remus’ gaze to hide the emotion he was sure would escape his eyes at any second.
Remus breathed deeply, inhaling the salty scent of the ocean and the distinct, musky, smell of Sirius Black.
He opened his mouth to continue speaking but Sirius beat him to it, his voice scratchy and hoarse as if it hadn’t been used for days. “There’s nothing that can make it all go away is there?” he whispered around the lump in his throat.
Remus simply slid his hand into Sirius’ in lieu of a response, watching a seagull swoop down to the frothing sea but fly away a second later with its talons empty.
“I wish there was a way,” he continued thickly, “that I could tell them it’s over. That Harry’s safe and we won. Especially that Harry’s safe.”
Remus blinked and felt a single tear slide down his cheek. “They know.”
“You don’t know that,” Sirius rebutted harshly.
Remus looked at him, their hands entwined, and smiled a faint smile despite the tears now leaking steadily from his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he agreed, “but I believe it anyway.”
And they stared into each other's eyes for what felt like centuries but was probably only a few seconds before they both leaned in at once and Sirius cupped Remus’ face in his hands and Remus ran his fingers through Sirius’ carefully styled hair and they kissed like it was their first time and their last day on Earth and tomorrow they’d be in the dirt next to their two best friends.