the black dog

Present – 30th June 1983
Remus’ POV

Remus wouldn’t be exaggerating if he told Regulus and Lily that the last week he had spent without catching a glimpse of Sirius Black had been nauseating. Not knowing when he would see him again or whether he would see him again was the worst part. In truth, it hadn’t even been a full week—five days to be exact—and he was struggling to take Regulus’ advice.

He wanted to. He really did. But it was hard, baring his soul like that for the Wizarding world to read—anonymous or not. If he was honest every piece he had ever published for the Daily Prophet had his soul wrapped up within. Little bits and pieces of himself, his friendships—past and present—and Sirius. Little thoughts, feelings and metaphors. Not enough for people to decipher his identity but enough that his writing still felt like him. Felt authentic to how Remus felt.

Lily and Regulus had concluded that it was likely best for him and Sirius to spend a few days (or weeks) away from each other. Therefore, Remus should get enough time to figure out how the fuck he was going to use Rowen O. Misty to his advantage.

He had left the bar the day he last saw Sirius shortly after Margaret arrived, leaving his friend alone to introduce the James Potter to one of the most important people in Regulus’ life. As far as he knew the introduction had gone well, Margaret was slightly hostile towards him at the beginning but James always had a way with old people. And soon enough—from what Lily had told him—Regulus had been pouting at the closeness of Margaret and James. Remus knew his friend was possessive over the people he was close to—it was a trait of the Black family—but this had made him laugh.

James and Regulus were out somewhere together tonight. He was told it wasn’t The Black Dog but he wouldn’t be surprised if that was where they were and they told him otherwise in an attempt to keep him away.

While his two friends were out on their romantic evening and Lily was working at St Mungo’s, Remus was at the table with a quill in his hand just as Regulus had been weeks ago. The difference was that Regulus had not spent an entire day where he had barely moved from the table. He hadn’t spent hours staring at the only two words he had managed to put on paper. I’m sorry. What a fantastic start. Not.

It was so frustrating. He didn’t want it to be superficial. He didn’t want it to be childish. Rowen O. Misty wrote fictitious stories, he didn’t write completely about Remus’ life. There was a part of him that screamed that this should be easy. That baring his heart in an apology should be easy. He was sorry. He was truly sorry. But he felt that nothing he could write would be worthy enough of forgiveness.

If he could go back to the first night when he walked into the back of the Black Dog and change things he would. He would let Sirius speak and alleviate the guilt the man had carried with him over the years. He would walk into the situation like the grown man he was instead of allowing his anger and hurt to control him.

He dropped the quill into the inkpot and buried his face into his ink-stained hands. It was surprising how many black smudges had made their way onto his fingers and palms considering he had only written two words over the course of an entire day. What was he going to do? What was he going to write?

“Remus?” A soft, frail voice called out from the doorway.

He had forgotten that he had left the door to his and Regulus’ apartment unlocked. It was a habit that remained after their weeks of moping and meant that there were times when they were surprised by people appearing behind them, on the couch or in the kitchen. Much like now, where Remus didn’t even hear Margaret knock or open the door until she was calling his name.

“Hi Margaret,” he replied, turning around to face the old witch. “Regulus is out with James tonight. Do you need me to tell him it’s an emergency?”

“No, no,” Margaret replied, making her way across the apartment towards the table Remus was sitting at. “Let the two of them enjoy their time together. Besides, I’m not here for him.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I’m here for you,” Margaret replied with a smile. “Can I sit?” She asked, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

“Please,” Remus nodded. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“I’m alright for now,” she said with another smile. Folding her hands together on the table she looked between Remus and the parchment. “Regulus told me you were writing for Sirius.”

“Trying to,” he amended with a wince, taking note of the fact that there was more ink on his hands than on the paper.

“I take that it’s not going too well.”

“That might be an understatement,” Remus scoffed, looking down at his mostly empty page.

Margaret tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes like she had trouble believing it was Remus sitting in front of her. “You don’t take me as the type to struggle with writing. Your entire career is built around expressing feelings in words.”

Remus sighed. “I can’t find the words. I am sorry and I want to fix things. I do. But, I don’t seem to be good at writing long notes to be published for thousands of people to read across the Wizarding world.”

The two of them fell quiet, Margaret appearing to be deep in thought and Remus wondered whether she would tell him that this wasn’t going to work. Perhaps she would point out that this was the universe telling him things just weren’t going to work out the way he wanted. Eventually, Margaret responded.

“It’s quality over quantity. You write what you feel in here,” she touched her hand to her chest—above her heart. “Not here,” she moved it to her head. “You’ve never struggled with writing from the heart before, right? Why is this so different?”

Remus took her words into consideration. He did believe that when he wrote for the Daily Prophet he wrote with his heart. He doesn’t think of the words, they just seem to flow through him and onto the page. Most of the time he barely felt conscious as he wrote as the words spilled onto the page. Yet, it was different. Margaret was right, he had to think hard to find the words to say. It didn’t come naturally to him like it did with his other pieces of writing. It was like there was a mental block in his mind—or more accurately his heart.

“It’s not fiction. What I’m writing is real—my emotions, my experiences, my thoughts. I don’t know how to let myself be vulnerable. I’ve never been good at letting people in,” is the explanation that he found himself giving. It made sense to him.

Margaret looked at him in disbelief and disappointment. “You have found yourself surrounded by so many amazing people who love you. People that you have let in. Is that a real problem for you or one that you make yourself believe you have?”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, frowning.

“Why do you find yourself struggling to let people in?” Margaret asked.

Remus paused for a long time. “I didn’t have any friends growing up. I didn’t want to hurt them.” He looked up at Margaret, expecting to see horror or concern in her face. Yet, he found none of that there.

Margaret looked at him with full seriousness as she told him, “I will never judge someone for a part of themselves that they cannot control.”

And Remus truly believed that there was nothing at that moment that would have been better than that. It was something every young child wanted to hear, reassurances that people can see past their exterior—their appearance and the conditions they were born with or that were forced upon them—and see what lies within them. A part of his inner child felt as if it had been healed with a single sentence.

He finally gathered the courage to continue his story about his struggles with friendships during the earlier part of his life. “I got to Hogwarts and spent the entire first few months pushing everybody away. And then Lily came along and never left. She refused to let me push her friendship away anymore.” He took a deep breath. “And then there was Sirius, James and Peter. Merlin, those three were so annoying,” he laughed. “But Sirius kept pushing and pushing until James and Peter joined in. I gave in. How could I not?” He broke off, waiting for Margaret’s thoughts.

“Remus, have you ever hurt anybody?”

Remus was taken aback by her words. “What?”

“You pushed them away because you didn’t want to hurt them. But I’m asking you now: have you ever hurt anybody?”

He assumed he wasn’t a part of this conversation.

“No,” he replied hesitantly after moments of silence. “I’ve come close but no.”

“So why do you still have trouble letting people in?” Margaret replied, staring at him intently with nothing but sincerity and compassion on her face.

Remus was lost. He didn’t have an answer to that question and he found that if he did, he would possibly find himself taken back to the night before he left Hogwarts. Which was something he didn’t want to relive when he was trying to focus on forgiveness and moving forward.

Margaret offered him an encouraging smile after several minutes of silence. “You don’t have to answer,” she assured him. “Just think about it.”

Remus smiled at her but it felt grim and pathetic. “I still am not sure how I can write a story that conveys to Sirius what I want him to know.”

“What you write can still be a story. It doesn’t have to be like Regulus’ letters with that James boy of his. Isn’t it what they say; the best stories are mixed with a little bit of truth.”

Remus frowned at her trying to decipher what she was trying to say. Upon figuring it out, he chuckled. “Do you mean; the best lies are mixed with a little bit of truth?”

“Same difference,” Margaret batted her hand through the air. “Close your eyes.”

Remus obliged, letting his eyes flutter close under the old woman’s direction.

“Now I want you to think back to the first moment you realised you were in love with Sirius.”

Remus’ mind pulled him through time, starting at the beginning when he finally accepted Sirius’ friendship and moving through the years. Finding the moment he saw and recognised that Sirius was attractive was easy, the man had always been very good-looking, gifted with the Black family’s ethereal beauty. It was his third year that he figured out his attraction towards Sirius was more than attraction—it was feelings. And with time they only grew, even if he believed that Sirius didn’t feel the same way. All he knew was that he was gay and he was hopelessly in love with one of his best friends. Sirius’ sexuality was a mystery to him at that point in time—one that he had only begun to figure out on his sixteenth birthday. Not that their relationship lasted beyond then.

“What was that moment? What did you feel?” Margaret continued. Her voice felt faint as if she was sitting further away than what was reality. He was consumed in the moment. He was consumed by the complexity of the day he realised he was in love with Sirius.

And yes, he couldn’t think of the moment he fell back in love with Sirius in the past few months because if he was honest with himself, he never truly fell out of love with the man. It seemed impossible. The love he felt then—and was reignited all these years later—was all-consuming.

A world without Sirius was a world without love. A world without love was a world without Sirius.

And it was something he was beginning to learn. Something he wished he had learnt years ago.

Through all the pain and the hurt, he was able to find it in his heart to see Sirius’ mistakes as mistakes.

Maybe instead of running after Sirius’ betrayal he should have stayed at Hogwarts and been forced to endure the apologies and the grovelling. Maybe he shouldn’t have prevented Sirius from offering him an explanation. But the past was the past and right now he was living in the present. A present that didn’t have Sirius in it the way he now realised he wanted. And if he didn’t turn things around, a future that didn’t have Sirius in it either.

If he wanted to he could blame his parents for that but he would not. They had his best interests at heart. And maybe, in another parallel universe, Remus would have been born to parents who didn’t care enough to put his needs and safety first. But he was lucky enough to be blessed with them here and now. And he could never hate them for doing something out of love and care.

Remus’ eyes snapped open to see Margaret’s finger pointed at his face. “That feeling right now. That is what you write. Don’t focus on the bad or the mistakes you both made.”

If only Margaret knew that his thoughts had in fact drifted to the so-called mistakes. However, he understood what she meant. The moment he realised he was in love with Sirius was the key to all of this mess. Perhaps it had the potential to open the door that Sirius kept trying to slam between them. But, it still didn’t fully make sense to him. Focusing on the past didn’t address the present. It erased the two words currently on his parchment that he needed to say.

“I am meant to be apologising,” he told her.

Margaret sighed. “And that is why you are stuck. You are never going to make something because Remus,” she reached her hand across the table to grasp his in hers. “You aren’t a person that forgives yourself. So, how are you supposed to write something that will meet your expectations when you won’t ever believe you are capable of being forgiven? Let your feelings speak the words you struggle with. You and Sirius are both worthy of forgiving yourselves and each other but you find yourselves lost thinking the other is better off without you.”

He didn’t forgive himself? Remus looked down at the scars running across his arms. Oh. He didn’t, didn't he?

“Tell me,” Margaret asked, giving his hand a brief squeeze to bring his attention away from the marks on his skin. “Have you been better off without Sirius these last few years?”

“I—well—” Remus broke off. It was something that was not a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.

“Let me rephrase,” she told him. “Will you be better off without Sirius for the rest of your life?”

His response was instant, second nature. “No.”

“No!” Margaret echoed. “Do you know what is just as powerful as love?”

“What?” Remus replied.

“Forgiveness. And I think what Sirius needs right now is to be told point-blank how you felt and feel towards him. So put that quill to paper and get writing.”

Remus waited for Margaret to get up and move to the comfy couch while he worked but the old witch made no move to do so. After an intense, friendly stare-down Remus picked up his quill with a sigh. “You aren’t going anywhere are you?”

“Not until you are finished,” Margaret replied, waving her hand at his writing equipment. “Get that quill moving.”

Remus closed his eyes and thought back to that key moment he realised he was in love with Sirius. Letting the feelings flow through him, he put the quill to the paper and just started to write. As always, the words came out easier when he wasn’t thinking too hard about it. There had been a shift in him—like his heart had come back to life—as his quill printed letters across the parchment.

Eventually, he lost track of time. It could have been minutes, it could have been half an hour, it could have been hours when he abruptly stood up at the table and dropped his quill. Margaret—who had been dozing off upright in her chair—jolted awake and narrowed her eyes at him. Remus walked away from the table and towards his bedroom door with determined strides.

“Where are you off to?” Margaret called out, suspicion coating her voice.

“I’m just grabbing something,” he replied as he pushed the door open and walked inside the dark room.

Flicking the muggle light switch, he walked over to the small, neatly organised box and opened the lid. He reached his hands inside, carefully pulling out pieces of paper, making sure to keep them in their specific order. Once he had made sure he had grabbed every piece of paper that was in the box, he walked out of his room to join Margaret at the table.

He addressed Margaret’s unasked question as she frowned at the large pile of parchment he carefully placed down beside the piece of paper he was currently writing on. “This is every draft of every story I have written for the Daily Prophet under my alias.”

Margaret’s face lit up. “And what is it you plan to do with these?”

His reply came quickly and naturally. “I’m going to make every little reference, every little thought I’ve put into everything I’ve written over the past few years visible.”

Margaret’s eyes scanned up and down the pile that had to contain thousands of stories Remus had put together over the years. “This is going to take longer than I expected. Alright, no getting sidetracked. You can sort through and do what you wish with those after you finish your story.”

It would take longer than expected and that was what worried him. But, he knew that he would rather put in the effort for Sirius than do the bare minimum to make this faster.

He might just lose sleep in the process as he worked through the large pile.

Present – 3rd July 1983

Remus had spent the past three days sorting through letters, only taking a break to eat, sleep and clean himself. He had also taken a few hours off on Friday to write Saturday’s writing piece for the Daily Prophet—as requested by his lovely editor-in-chief. But, aside from that, Remus had been consumed by his need to get this finished as soon as possible. Every tick of the clock felt like he was moving further and further away from Sirius.

Margaret had returned across the past few days to look at his progress. She had picked up and read a few of the annotated stories, nodding her head as she scanned the paper. He swore that he had seen a tear escape her eye but that was either a result of his tired brain or her quickly wiping it away before he could properly see.

His next opportunity to post his new and finished story would be tomorrow for Monday’s edition, followed by Wednesday or Saturday. He had hoped he would be ready for tomorrow but looking at the hundred pieces of paper he still had to go through he was starting to believe a timeline for Wednesday would be better.

He looked up from his letter as the door opened and Regulus walked in after spending his day off with—no surprise—James. If asked, Regulus would surely tell him that it’s James who insisted on them spending time together daily. But Remus wasn’t oblivious. Regulus needed that time just as much.

Regulus walked over to Remus, standing opposite him as he planted his palms on the table. “I happen to know where Sirius will be tomorrow night.”

“Courtesy of James, I assume,” Remus asked, returning to the story draft in front of him. “Did he know that when he told you that you would immediately come tell me?”

Remus looked up at Regulus in time to see the man roll his eyes with a scoff. “As if he wouldn’t do the same for Sirius. Now, do you want to know or not?”

Remus put his quill down and looked directly into his friend’s eyes. “Where, Regulus?”

“A Muggle bar.”

“So, he is drinking at a bar that he doesn’t own?” Remus replied. “Shocking.”

“Are you dense?” Regulus asked. “You can surprise him with the story you publish tomorrow.”

“Do you see the amount of drafts I still need to go through?”

“You can do that easily,” Regulus told him.

“Even if I can get this done, the story would be published in the morning. Surely, given he is supposedly Rowen’s biggest fan, he would have read it by then?”

“I’ll get Cuffe to push the printing back to an evening edition.”

“You think he would agree? Maybe it’s better to let Sirius put the pieces together alone.”

“That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it? To publish the story and not give it to him directly? And then what? Ask James to drop these drafts on his doorstep?” Regulus gestured to the stack of papers on Remus’ desk. “Were you going to hope that Sirius would take his time reading so you could gather up the courage to see him face to face?”

“Not exactly.”

“Remus, trust me,” Regulus told him. “You need to deliver this to him personally. You need to make it clear as day that this was intentional. You need to be there for the aftermath.”

“Do you happen to know where he will be on Wednesday?” Remus asked, hopefully.

“No. And I’m not finding out,” Regulus replied with a shake of his head. “You are going to finish this and hand deliver these to him at this Muggle bar tomorrow.”

Present – 4th July 1983
Sirius’ POV

Sirius never imagined he would have a taste for Muggle beer. He had assumed it would be similar to butterbeer and had expected a sweet flavour to fill his mouth. It seemed that Muggles didn’t have sweet alcohol, most of it was bitter or the alcoholic taste and content was high. But, that was good. He wanted the alcohol in his system.

He had drifted around Muggle bars when he moved into his apartment in London, trying to find one that fit what he was looking for; busy but not overwhelming, good music and good people. It had taken him six months but he found it eventually, a small bar tucked away and only able to be found if you were looking for it.

He used to visit the place a couple of times a week, enough that he was on a first-name basis with the owner, David. Yet, with the business of opening his own bar—alongside other recent events and appearances in his own life—it had turned into a few visits a month. But Sirius treasured every visit. He got to dress up in Muggle clothes and listen to Muggle music—he had found new artists this way—and drink Muggle alcohol while he listened to them talk about their day. If his mother could see him now she would surely have a fit.

He walked through the entrance, shrugging his jacket off as he walked towards the bar, nodding his head at a few regulars that he recognised. Making his way over to the bar, he smiled at David who was talking to a customer. The man lifted his hand at him in greeting and Sirius walked towards an empty seat in front of the bar where he could talk to his friend. But, it seemed that as David greeted him, the customer he was serving turned his head towards him and Sirius froze. His feet stopped walking towards the bar.

His first thought was what? Pure confusion at how Remus Lupin could have found the Muggle bar he frequented. But it seemed his question was answered by the piece of clothing Remus had dressed himself in—or rather—had been dressed in by a scheming little brother. It was part of the reason why he would never have realised the man being served by David was Remus—Remus didn’t wear leather jackets or at least, he never used to.

It appeared that Regulus was sneakier than Sirius had thought.

Remus was now fully facing Sirius, his eyes scanning him up and down as if he were checking to see what had changed in the time that they had been apart. Sirius’ feet still remained planted on the floor, making no move to bridge the gap between them. Remus, realising that Sirius wasn’t going to walk over to him, stood up and advanced towards him with slow strides. Sirius wondered whether the pace of the strides was to torture him or to not scare him off.

Sirius looked at Remus as he stood in front of him, let his eyes trace the scars along his face and down his neck and winced. How many of them happened after what he did? Overcome with a surge of pain and guilt, turned towards the door. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he mumbled.

He took one step before Remus’ hand closed around his wrist gently, making Sirius turn back to face the man immediately. “No. Stay. Please,” Remus asked, looking directly into Sirius’ eyes.

Sirius looked at where Remus’ hand was still holding his wrist, marvelling at the energy that seemed to flow from where they were connected. Remus followed Sirius’ line of sight and winced, dropping his wrist with a “sorry.” Sirius immediately felt a cold rush through him, an ache in his heart at the loss of contact between them.

He looked at Remus again, letting his eyes fall to the piece of clothing he had left behind years ago. “You are wearing my leather jacket.”

Remus frowned, looking down at the jacket. “I didn’t know. Regulus let me borrow it.”

“Of course he did,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, then said louder, “I’m surprised it fit you.”

“There’s something called magic,” Remus whispered under his breath, his eyes darting around to make sure no one had heard them. “Do you want it back?”

Instead of answering that question, Sirius asked. “What are you doing here?”

Remus sighed. “Right. Can I buy you a drink?”

Sirius looked at him sceptically. “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“Please?” Remus asked. “I left something at the bar that I want to give to you.”

Sirius weighed his options and sighed, forcing a small smile across his face as he nodded. How bad could it be?

He followed Remus over to the bar and took the stool beside him. Within seconds of sitting down, Sirius had a drink set down in front of him by David. He looked up at the man with a question on his face. The bartender responded with a shrug at him, followed by a wink at Remus before walking off. Okay, Sirius thought. That was weird.

He turned back to Remus to find the man no longer on the stool beside him. Remus was standing with several pieces of paper in his hand, looking at him with what Sirius believed was fear and hope. Remus gestured to Sirius’ glass. “I asked David what your favourite was.”

Sirius frowned. He already knew David’s name? It took Sirius several visits until the man allowed him to know his name. He wasn’t sure why David rarely gave it out but if you did know what it was, you knew that you had the man’s respect. So, what could Remus have possibly done?

Remus placed the small stack of parchment in front of him but Sirius didn’t look at the papers yet. Instead, he kept looking at Remus, trying to decipher what his intentions for being here were.

“Please read them,” Remus told him, breaking the silence. “I’ve put them in order.”

Sirius still didn’t look away from Remus, ignoring the urge to see what was written across the pieces of paper beside him.

“I’ll wait outside for you while you read,” the man said as he turned around and started walking toward the door. Sirius still didn’t look away from Remus’ retreating figure until he was out of sight, and still, his eyes remained fixed on the empty doorway for several seconds.

The first piece of paper was a long piece of text filling the page. The top left corner had a date: 2nd April 1981. Was it a letter? He began reading and quickly realised that it wasn’t a letter—it was a story. A story that seemed familiar to him in the back of his mind. What surprised him though was how heavily annotated it was. The first annotation had him realising quickly what this was.

A beast and his world.

Remus had circled the words ‘his world’ and drawn a line to the margins of the paper. There he had annotated the writing with a single word.

‘Sirius.’

And as Sirius continued to read the first piece of paper he got more insights into how the story connected to him. How it connected to his and Remus’ past. Allusions to the pranks they pulled or private moments between them and how they had made Remus feel.

Sirius moved on to the next one which had been dated as the 6th August 1981. And the familiarity remained, something in the back of his mind recognised what was written on the page and was desperately trying to figure out how. This story was more solemn, more dark than the other one. The images were gothic and depressing, yet, with Remus’ annotations Sirius could see how perfectly they fit him and Remus.

It took him half an hour to get through the first four and Sirius was beginning to wonder if Remus was still waiting outside or if he had left. Surely, he wouldn’t have handed him these beautiful pieces of writing only to leave him with his questions.

It wasn’t until he read the second to last piece of writing that he realised what he was holding in his hands. The piece of paper was dated the 7th May 1983, the day after he and Remus had seen each other for the first time. He vividly remembered finding comfort in this story after the meeting, connecting to the pain, grief and hope that had called out to him. But what confused him was that Remus had not written these stories. These were publications for the Daily Prophet—specifically, these were the handwritten drafts of them. How did Remus manage to get Rowen O. Misty to give these to him?

He glanced over the piece of writing, once again reading the connections Remus had made between the two of them and Misty’s stories. What was the purpose of this? What was Remus trying to achieve?

He moved on to the last piece of parchment and paused. It wasn’t handwritten like the other five stories. No, it was a singular page pulled from today’s edition of the Daily Prophet. The 4th July 1983 was clearly printed across the top of Rowen O. Misty’s section. What was also different about this page was that it didn’t have annotations on it. It wasn’t a draft like the others, it was the piece of writing that had not been published with the morning edition so Sirius had not read it yet.

He took a deep breath and read the opening line, a strangled sob escaping his chest as he read the first few lines.

Love is a foreign concept for most. It took me eleven years of my life before I met the person who would make me believe the concept existed. That I was capable of feeling that emotion at all…

Remus was Rowen O. Misty. Rowen O. Misty was Remus. They were the same person. And Remus had shown Sirius in his own special way that he had never stopped thinking about him. That Sirius and the moments of their past had consumed every single thing he had written under his pseudonym in the past few years.

He kept reading, brushing David off when the man came to check if he was alright, frowning at the tears that had spilled from Sirius’ eyes. Sirius read the story—no, not a story this was real life. Remus had left their names out but what was written here was real. It wasn’t fiction but to the eyes of the other readers, it would be. But to Sirius, it answered every doubt he had. He read the story twice. Three times. Four times. He hung on every word Remus had written about them—about his thoughts and his feelings about their past. Embedded within those words was hope, was a promise for a future between them.

Sirius slid off the stool, clutching the parchment to his chest as he walked quickly towards the door. Please still be here, he silently begged as he used a hand to brush away the tears falling from his eyes.

He turned the corner following his instincts and trusting them to lead him to where Remus was hopefully still waiting for him. And in the quiet alleyway, Sirius found him. The man had a cigarette between his fingers and a briefcase between his feet as he turned his head toward Sirius the moment he came into view.

Sirius stopped in front of Remus, an arm’s length between them as he stared the man down. Remus’ eyes were wide in shock and concern as he took in Sirius’ tear-stained face.

“You’re Rowen O. Misty?” were the words that fell from his mouth.

Remus frowned. “That is what you take away from all of that?”

Sirius’ face crumpled and he fought the urge to sink to the ground from the force of the emotions running through him. His voice broke as his next question escaped him, a whisper that only the two of them could hear. “You love me?”

Remus’ face melted, softening as a ripple of what Sirius identified as sadness crossed the man’s face. “Are you questioning what I wrote?”

“I need to hear you say it,” Sirius asked him, begging for clarity on the doubt that still ran through him. “Do. You. Love. Me?”

“I. Love. You,” Remus replied, pausing after every word. Before Sirius could say anything else, Remus continued, words falling out of his mouth. “I love you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for running away all those years ago and not giving you the chance to explain your actions. I’m sorry for not letting you say goodbye in person or by letter. For cutting you out of my life. I’m sorry for the way I behaved in your bar. I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you until now…”

“Remus,” Sirius said, a weak attempt at trying to get the man to listen to him.

“I’m sorry,” Remus continued. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Remus,” Sirius said louder. “I should be asking for your forgiveness.”

Remus shook his head. “You don’t need to ask. You have it.”

Sirius couldn’t help it. As soon as those words left Remus’ lips he was surging forward to wrap his arms around the man’s waist, listening to the breath of surprise that escaped the man’s lips. Sirius pressed his head into Remus’ shoulder as he muttered the words “I’m sorry” over and over again into the leather jacket. Remus’ arms came around his back and Sirius felt Remus’ mouth press against his hair. For every “I’m sorry” that left Sirius’ mouth Remus followed it by whispering “I love you.” It was a back-and-forth of the words the two of them wanted—and needed—to tell the other.

They stayed wrapped up in each other for several minutes, whispering the words back to each other as tears fell from Sirius’ eyes. Eventually, they both untangled themselves and sat down with their backs against the wall and their sides pressed together.

Remus took the briefcase from between his legs and held it out to Sirius.

“What is this?” Sirius asked as he took the bag.

“It’s the other drafts.”

“Other drafts?” Sirius echoed before his mouth dropped open. “Every draft?” he asked in disbelief.

“Everyone,” Remus confirmed. “All of them are annotated.”

Sirius fought the desire to open the briefcase and immediately read every single annotation Remus had carefully written in the margins of the drafts. To figure out how the stories that Sirius had obsessed over for the past few years had these connections between the two of them that he hadn’t picked up on.

Sirius looked away from the briefcase, turning his head to look at Remus’ face. “I don’t know what to say.”

Remus was quiet as the two of them stared at each other. Sirius knew that Remus was able to see the raw emotion on his face; the adoration, the hope and the purest of them all—love. Without breaking eye contact, Remus reached into the pocket of Sirius’ leather jacket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He offered the box to Sirius, “Want one?”

“I haven’t smoked in over seven years, you know?” He told Remus as he reached to take one from the box.

Remus frowned as he took his own from the box and pulled out his lighter. “Why’s that?”

Sirius shrugged, letting Remus light the end of his cigarette. “Wasn’t the same without you.”

“Didn’t you miss it?”

“Not as much as I missed you,” Sirius mumbled, taking a long drag from the cigarette and suppressing the cough that threatened to escape him. He didn’t look at Remus as he said the words but could feel the man’s eyes on the side of his face.

“You missed me?”

“Wasn’t that obvious?”

“I can’t help but wonder,” Remus replied.

Sirius pressed his shoulder closer to Remus as the two of them spent several minutes without either of them saying a word, instead breathing out the smoke from their cigarettes into the air.

“What are we?” Sirius asked, needing to voice the thoughts and questions that ran through his mind.

“What do you want us to be?” was Remus’ response.

Sirius took several seconds to comprehend Remus’ words and think of an appropriate answer. He knew what the man was doing. He was giving Sirius the opportunity to decide what their future looked like. And Sirius couldn’t help but feel the pressure of it weighing down on him.

“I love you, Moony. You are it for me. If we move forward and cross the line of friendship into something more we are stuck. Once you are mine I can’t be friends with you again. I can’t be strangers. It’s all or nothing.”

“Okay.” Remus nodded.

“Children. Marriage. House. Family. That is what you are signing up for. Think about it. Is that what you want? Can you give me all of that?”

“Gladly,” Remus responded immediately and Sirius looked at him with a tilted head and focused eyes, not completely believing that Remus knew what he was getting himself into. But it seemed that Remus realised this. “I can’t picture a future without you, Sirius. I have been asked to and I can’t. That happy ending you told me to find a few weeks ago? It doesn’t exist without you.”

Remus held his hand out, waiting for Sirius to place his hand in his. Remus was waiting for his permission to initiate any sort of contact between them and Sirius wanted to melt in the man’s embrace.

Sirius placed his hand on Remus’, threading their fingers together and moving his head to rest on Remus’ shoulder.

“If anything happens Remus Lupin. If you break this agreement I will take full custody of James and Regulus. You can keep Lily.”

“As much as I would like to argue about the custody arrangements I won’t. Because I know it will never come to that,” Remus responds. “We’ll take this slowly.”

“I love you,” Sirius tells him.

“I love you.”