why are you at the wake?
5th April, 1976
The halls of Hogwarts are eerily silent at this time of night. The only sounds to accompany Sirius in his travels are his own footsteps, and the rattling of the tray he carries. It’s piled high with chocolates, a hot water bottle, and various other post-full-moon necessities.
As he nears the Hospital Wing, he's sure to slow down, his long-practised ability to walk quietly coming in handy. By now, he's intimately familiar with the creaky doors of the infirmary and how to quell them.
As he pokes his head inside, he sees that all the beds are empty but one.
“Moons?” He whispers into the still air.
Remus sits up, startled. His chestnut hair is mussed on his head and there’s a faint pillow marked etched onto his left cheek. He’s beautiful.
“Sirius? What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed, though he can’t quite hide the smile curling at his lips, “It's the middle of the night!”
Sirius holds up his tray victoriously, grinning broadly, “I’m here to cure all your full-moon blues! What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you rot in here all by yourself?”
“Well, to start, it's quite lovely in here.” Remus smirks, thumb gently stroking one of his many soft blankets, “And, secondly , you didn’t need to do any of this. I’ve lived through countless full-moons by now, I can deal with it myself.”
“I know you can deal with it yourself, I would just rather you didn’t.” Sirius snarks, settling on the cushioned chair beside Remus’ bedside, “Besides, look, I went to all of this effort, Moonpie, would you want it all to go to waste? I even went to the kitchens to fill the hot water bottle with a real Muggle kettle, Remus, rather than just a heating charm. I personally can’t tell the difference but I’ve lived through enough of your little rants to know that- why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing!” Remus chirps, failing to hide the teasing smile that had begun to take over his face, “It’s just very sweet that you battled a kettle for me.”
“I’d realistically die for you but whatever.”
“Oh, stop.”
“I mean it. I’d fight a- a billion evil clones of Dumbledore for you, my Moons.”
“Well, I’m just glad James would never allow that to happen.”
“I swear that boy was a mother to six in a past life.” Sirius shakes his head, slipping a hand into Remus’, “It’s fine, I’ll just take out James if he gets in my way.”
Remus lets out a snort, letting his head fall back onto the pillow behind him, “You’re going to take him out? For stopping your battle against a thousand evil Dumbedores?”
“A billion. Actually.”
“Oh, my mistake. So sorry.” The werewolf presses a mocking kiss to Sirius’ knuckles, though his touch is soft and loving as ever, “A billion evil Dumbledores... Wow. That is dedication.”
Sirius shrugs, full of exaggerated nonchalance, “Yeah, well, anything for my Moonbeam.”
“Murdering your best friend in cold blood. All for me.” Remus shakes his head, eyes sparkling, “And then an army of our cloned headteacher.”
“Well, that’s just how much I love you, my dearest Moonpie.”
“Guess I’m pretty lucky then, hm?”
“I suppose you are, then, yeah.” Sirius can’t help the little laugh that escaped his lips.
“Good thing I love you, too, then, isn’t it? Or that would be pretty embarrassing.”
“That it would be, Moons, that it would be.”
-
22nd November, 1979
Sirius isn’t quite sure where he is when his eyes inch open.
The yellowing ceiling above him is not the regal arches of the manor, nor is it the rotting panels of the Shack. The blanket settled over his limbs is far too soft to be anything from the abandoned Black holiday home. The comforting smell of tea hangs in the air, enveloping him like a warm embrace.
“Sirius? Are you awake?” A familiar rumbling voice grounds him. Hazel eyes and bronze hair appear in his blurry vision.
…What? What would Remus be doing here? Sirius hasn’t seen Remus in almost three months. He’s on a mission for Dumbloredore, he’s not here . He’s not here in this old manor on a cold, empty hillside. It just doesn’t make sense .
“Moony?” Sirius croaks out, eyes stinging, “What’s…What's going on? Where are we?”
Remus’ warm, blurred shape moves closer, “We’re at home, love, at the London flat.”
Panic blossoms in Sirius’ chest as he tries to thrash his way into an upright position, “No, no, what about the- the plan? What about the-”
A large hand assists him to a sit up, “It’s okay, Sirius, it's all okay. Go slowly, it's okay. What hurts?”
It’s then that the pain really registers.
His whole body feels like it's been set aflame, each vein pulsing roughly with pinpricks of agony. He half expects his Mother to jump out, proudly announcing each and every spell she cast to make him feel this way.
This feeling has nothing on the poison, though - a thought so ridiculous that Sirius could laugh.
He tries to blink Remus into focus, his warm hands not enough to convince Sirius that he’s truly here, “What happened? How are you here?”
Remus rubs his back soothingly, speaking softly as the other man attempts to reorient, “You got hurt at the Shack, love. There was some sort of spell in place for when you tried to leave. Kind of like multiple, really terrible Diffindo ’s. Your brother brought you back here and we fixed you right up. You’ve been out for about three days now.”
Your brother.
“Oh, Merlin, where is he? Where’s Regulus?” Sirius gasps, again trying to move.
Remus gently pushes him back down, “Shh, it’s alright. He’s just napping in the living room, it's quite late.”
“How much do you know?”
“Enough.” Remus sighs, face drawn and concerned, “You two have been right idiots.”
“What are you talking about?”
The other man's figure is clear enough, now, that Sirius is subjected to the not-angry-but-disappointed expression on his face, “I’m talking about the crazy fucking plan that you two have come up with and tried to carry out alone. Do you know how many people would willingly help if you just explained all this?”
“You don’t get it.” Sirius snaps, “Knowing about any of this puts you in immediate danger, Remus! I’m not about to do that to any of you.”
“Well, I don’t think you should be able to make that decision for us, Sirius!”
“Why not? Why needlessly endanger the rest of you, when I can just deal with it myself?”
“So, you don’t think any of us were entitled to know about Peter?” Remus snarls, practically spitting that final word, “You don’t think that that’s information you should have shared?”
Sirius suddenly feels breathless, “He told you about that?”
“Yes, of course, he told me about that, Sirius! Because that’s important fucking information!” Remus stands, the loss of his warmth startling, “I get the safety argument, I do, but you’ve let everyone go around being suspicious of eachother. Of me! ”
Sirius feels the fight go out of him, shoulders slumping forward, “Moony, no one’s ever thought that you were the spy. No one but-”
“No one but you.”
The truth hangs in the air, stifling.
Eyes stinging, Sirius curls in on himself, “Moony, it wasn’t anything you did, I swear. I was just- I think Pete got in my head, and you were suddenly never there , and-”
“And I’m a fucking werewolf. I mean, that's it, isn't it?” Remus stops his pacing, back stiff and confrontational. His pointer finger picks at his thumb.
“ What? ” Sirius pushes himself to his feet, ignoring the way his healing wounds pull, “Moons, no. You know that's never been a problem for me, I think you’re perfect , and beautiful , and-”
“Then what ? What was it?” Remus cries, “What made you think I could do something like that?”
Sirius sucks in a hungry breath, the air not hitting the bottom of his lungs. It never fucking does. His hands tremor at his sides, “Remus, you’re one of the only thing that’s ever gone right in my entire stinking fucking life, okay? You’ve always seemed too fucking good to be true, so why wouldn’t you be the spy? Why wouldnt the universe fucking do that to me? Why wouldn’t one more good thing go wrong?”
Remus gapes at him for a long moment, “Are you so fucking egocentric that you think the universe makes its decisions based on what would make you the most miserable?”
“Guess so!”
“Well, that's stupid, Sirius!”
“I know , Moony, it's just-”
“And selfish.”
“Yes!”
“And I’m sorry that you're scared to have good things.” His voice has turned very very soft, “Because you deserve them.”
Oh. That's not really what Sirius thought he would say.
“Oh.”
“Now, lie back down, idiot.” Remus snarks. His face is still slightly red from anger but his lips are curling slightly in an involuntary fond expression, “You’re gonna end up passed out if you carry on. Or bleeding. And I really don't want to have to save your life again.”
Sirius obeys, bewildered. He tentatively burrows back into the soft blankets that line the bed- the ones he and Remus and collected from various flea markets and charity shops. The ones they’d selected specially for the home that they'd created for themselves. He suddenly doesn’t feel so lost.
Remus lies down next to the smaller man, careful to avoid his wounds. His hand comes up to gently card through Sirius’ hair. This is the closest they've allowed themselves to be in months.
“You’re sort of one of the only right things in my life, too, you know.” Remus whispers, afraid to break the tentative silence.
“Really?” Sirius croaks.
“Really. I love you. So much.”
“I love you, too. And I trust you, fully, wholly. You have to believe that.”
Remus’ brow creases, tugging on the pale scar that sits across the bridge of his nose, “I do. Or I could, I think. It’ll be okay.”
The two men accept this conclusion, letting the comfort of this abrupt reunion finally rest over them like a blanket. The next breath Sirius takes fills his lungs all the way.