Regulus was the first of them to go.
Sirius sat on the couch of their dingy London flat, staring down at the paper in his hands. For all too long, his face was blank, emotionless as he scanned the words over and over and over again.
REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK, DEAD AT 17, the headline read. Only son of Orion and Walburga Black, heir to the family’s fortune, presumed dead. Circumstances unknown. The family has requested privacy in their time of mourning.
And as Sirius read it over one last time, the dam broke. Tears flooded his face, a waterfall of his grief flowing free as his body was racked with sobs. It was merely second nature for Remus as he began to rock him, to hold him together, to desperately hold himself together as well. His childhood best friend, dead at the hands of a war they were far too young for.
James sat in the corner, crying silently. Remus could see it in his eyes. He had never told Remus what Regulus was to him, before the tragedies, before Harry, before the Dark Mark– but it didn’t take Einstein to figure it out. It was written all over his face, what was once love, maybe still was, fueling his tears.
Sirius’ sniffling came to a pause, just for a brief moment.
“Did he hate me, Moons?” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
A pause.
“No, Pads. He could never,”
—
Merlin. Merlin, no. Please. Remus thought, Dumbledore’s voice falling deaf on his ears as he continued to deliver the news. We’ve been through so much. This can’t be the end.
“Sirius? And Peter? Do they know?” he choked out, his voice thick with despair. Dumbledore’s expression softened.
“...Lupin. Black… Sirius was the secret keeper.”
Remus just stared at the man, waiting for him to continue. Then it dawned on him, and he fell to his knees. He didn’t think it could get worse. How could it? James and Lily were gone. Harry was alone, and there was nothing he and Sirius could do to help him. Sirius… Pads…
Remus threw up right on the floor of their flat. Sirius’ flat.
—
Remus couldn’t believe it. Peter’s name, right on their god damned map. The one they– the Marauders, the happy, oblivious teenagers, not whatever they were now– had made.
His legs carried him from his office to Dumbledore’s before he could register what he was doing. Curfew, privacy, respect be damned. Remus needed… hell, he didn’t know. An apology? An explanation?
The gears were turning in Remus’ head. He didn’t dare hope– he couldn’t, how could he? Hope was just proof of the love that was still there, the love he still holds for the man who killed his best friends.
Did he?
“He’s innocent, Professor Lupin. Peter Pettigrew was the Potter’s secret keeper. Sirius Black is an innocent man.”
And Remus couldn’t help it, Dumbledore’s age be damned. He felt like he was a teenager again, running the streets of London, fueled by nothing but spite for a world that hated him for factors outside of his control. He punched the headmaster with all he had, and promptly stormed out of the office.
—
He was in the Shrieking Shack, his eyes darting between Harry, the fucking rat, and Sirius.
Oh, Sirius.
Then he was jumping forward, hugging the love of his life with everything in him. Sirius. Ragged, hollow, and older, but he was still Sirius. Sirius, Sirius, Sirius.
And the moment the prying eyes had left them, Remus kissed him within an inch of his life.
—
Peter’s death hit differently from the others. He so desperately wished it made him happy. It was justice, pure and true.
No amount of justice could stop the memories, though. The young, short boy with blond hair and a crooked, awkward smile. The boy whose kindness rivaled James’, whose wit rivaled his own, whose hugs rivaled Lily’s, and whose spirit rivaled Sirius’, if he’d only let it show.
He had loved him, once. He would’ve called them soulmates– all four of them. And Peter– Pete, Wormtail, the second name on the map– would’ve agreed with him, once upon a time. So he cried, clutching himself as he desperately wished it had all gone differently.
—
He was crying. Screaming. The room around him was moving, and he was vaguely aware of his arms around Harry, holding him back. Harry was screaming too, he was pretty sure.
No. No. You can’t take him from me. Not again. Sirius’ smile flashed through Remus’ mind. His mind was racing. I just got him back. Please, please, please, god dammit, he begged to no one.
When he was sure Harry wouldn’t go after him, he threw himself at Bellatrix Lestrange with all he had.
—
Dying sucked. Pain wracked through his body in waves.
Despite it all, Remus was happy.
He knew that the war was won. He may have not made it to the end, but this was the last battle. He was sure of it.
Now, he can go home.
For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a white light. Bright. He began to squint.
A form was over him. He did his best to blink the blurriness out of his eyes.
“Welcome home, Moons,” Sirius said. He was young once more, looking not much different than he had their seventh year of school. Sirius stuck out a hand, and he grabbed it, pulling himself up. He hugged Sirius, his eyes closed, and Sirius hugged him back. He closed his eyes, burying himself in the shoulder of the man he loves. Of the man he missed more than anyone else.
He raised his head slowly, not daring to let go of Sirius. I can’t lose you again. I won’t. All around them were the faces of their friends, those they’d loved and lost. James, with Regulus to one side of him, Lily to the other. Peter was nowhere to be found, but right then, it didn’t matter.
He finally pulled away, only to pull Sirius back, kissing him with everything he had in him. When they finally pulled away, he grinned at him.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, “home.”