Here I am waking up, still can't sleep on your side
There's your coffee cup, the lipstick stain fades with time
If I can dream long enough, you'd tell me I'd be just fine
I'll be just fine
Sirius laughed, throwing back his long, black mane of hair. Remus felt a smile cross his face, too. They sat, shaded from the sun underneath a large, full tree, hands and legs intertwined. Remus felt the warmth on his face, felt more spreading across his cheeks as Sirius calmed down and looked him in the eyes. There was something about those grey eyes that made Remus lose his words every time.
“I still can’t believe we got away with that one, Moons. I mean, it would only have been more obvious if we enchanted the giant squid to sing our names—“ he snorted, patting Remus’ leg with his free hand. Remus leaned towards Sirius, and he rested his head on his shoulder.
“Well, we tried that once with all of the dinner goblets and that didn’t seem to work too well in our favor.” The two of them looked out into the field, flowers and grasses swaying in the soft, summer breeze. Remus felt at ease, content— something he only really felt with Sirius. He looked up into Sirius’ face, scanned the sharpness of his jawline and his plush pink lips. Remus gave him a small kiss on the shoulder. He could never get enough of looking at that face. It was all his.
“I love you, Remus,” Sirius mused softly. There was a time when it was difficult for Sirius to say that, to say anything to the effect, really. All of the rejection and heartbreak that came from the Noble House of Black had left a hole in his heart. However, years of togetherness with Remus had softened the both of them. “More than I’ve loved anyone before. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Sirius squeezed his hand, soft and strong, and Remus felt himself straighten.
“I love you too, Pads.” Remus looked directly at his face. He looked older, somehow, than he had before. A small pit began to form in his stomach. “More than the moon and stars.”
Sirius flashed his winning, bright smile, and gave Remus a peck on the cheek. Remus’ head felt fuzzy, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
“I miss you, Sirius.” He found himself saying. He was confused, now. Sirius looked confused, too. A raised eyebrow put Remus just a bit on edge. Something wasn’t right.
“What do you mean, Moony?” He asked softly. Remus shook his head. “I’m right here—“
A jet of green light burst, seemingly out of nowhere, into Sirius’ chest.
Remus started awake. His hands groped for warmth on the other side of him; dog fur, long black hair, anything. It was cold. He released a breath before his sticky eyes slowly opened. If only he hadn’t woken up this time.
He shuffled down to the kitchen, which looked like it had been cleaned since yesterday. Molly must have been there in the morning. It was already four in the afternoon. Recently, Remus had been taking to waking up later and later. Though the portraits of Grimmauld Place would constantly torment him about his habits, he didn’t much feel like seeing the sun these days. Or people. Or happiness. Anything, really, except the dark, cold walls that surrounded him. He had only had Sirius back for two years, and now he was— Remus hadn’t quite came to terms with it yet.
Sure, everyone was sad. Harry was certainly spiraling in a way that none of them knew how to deal with, Molly was compulsively cleaning every surface she came across with the vigor of a house-elf, and even Albus had stopped by, giving Remus a pat on the shoulder, as if that would comfort him. Though, none of them really knew what he was going through, he would venture to say. What good was the moon on a starless night?
He sat at the table alone and conjured up a cup of coffee. Black. Sirius always drank his coffee with loads of cream and sugar, something Remus constantly teased him about.
“Well, we all can’t be as naturally sweet as you, Moons,” Sirius would bite back, giving Remus a quick peck. “Some of us have to derive it from other sources.”
The creamer in the fridge had gone bad two weeks ago. Not that it mattered anymore, anyway. Remus was sure that Molly was just itching to get inside that fridge and clean out all of the rotting food in there, but she knew better after what the Order was beginning to call the “pickle incident,” which left Remus swinging wildly between fits of lashing out and sobbing for days.
He looked up to the shelf, upon which sat Sirius’ coffee cup. Dog daddy, it said. Remus thought it was hilarious when he came upon it in the muggle supermarket. Now, with a faint red lipstick stain on the rim, it made him feel sick. Remus sighed. Everything in this house made him feel sick. He hadn’t left it at all this summer.
The coffee suddenly tasted like mud.
So I drown it out like I always do
Dancing through our house with the ghost of you
And I chase it down, with a shot of truth
Dancing through our house with the ghost of you
Remus felt the burn of the firewhiskey sliding down his throat. The sun had gone down, and in his book, it was certainly time to start drinking. Everyone in the Order had left after a brief meeting: what to do next, how to recoup after a “loss of one of their own,” as Albus called him.
Nobody could meet Remus’ stare when Albus said it. He had noticed, today, that even Mad-Eye wouldn’t stay for a drink. Usually he’d stay for one, make it two, and then slip out when Remus’ eyes began to well up and he fancied having a stare at Sirius’ burned out portrait on the family tree. Tonight, Remus was alone. Perhaps everyone assumed that were he alone, he wouldn’t drink as much. They were wrong.
He sat on the floor of the parlor, clothes disheveled and dirty. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d changed them, and honestly, he didn’t really care. They still smelled like Sirius, and if that was what it took, Remus would never change again. He stood, crossing the room to the record player, and dropped the needle on whatever they had on before they had left the house that fucking night. He took another swig from the bottle. Paul McCartney’s voice crooned out of the speaker. Something. One of their favorite love songs. Remus took one more long drink from the firewhiskey, draining the bottle and dropping it before closing his eyes. He could almost feel Sirius’ hands circling his neck, swaying back and forth with him. Maybe this would have been their wedding song, were they to have had a real ceremony after all was said and done. Remus had taken to wearing the ring he had bought for Sirius. It certainly wasn’t his style, but he hadn’t taken it off since that night. If only he hadn’t waited any longer to give it to him.
Remus continued to sway, back and forth, back and forth, with the ghost of Sirius’ arms around his neck. If he really tried, he could just convince himself that he was there, standing on his toes to reach Remus’ height. He almost felt a smile creep onto his lips. Sirius was there with him. Padfoot. His star. A swell of affection briefly bubbled in his chest.
His eyes snapped open when a sharp pain shot through his foot and up his leg. He looked down. The carpet began to run with blood. He had stepped, barefoot, on the shattered glass of his bottle. The song ended.
Cleanin' up today, found that old Zeppelin shirt
You wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt
After another week, Remus decided it was time to get back on his feet. He hadn’t dreamed that night, the first time since before it had happened, and he thought maybe that was a sign. Sirius Black had actually left him to a good nights’ rest. That hadn’t happened since he was eleven years old. Remus rose at noon, drank his cup of coffee, and began setting about the house looking for messes to clean. He had, unfortunately, lashed out at Molly a few days prior for trying to wash Sirius’ coffee cup, so she had left him to his own devices. He began with the broken glass in the parlor.
Remus swept, shuffled books around, and finally brought outside the muggle television that he had smashed to bits after the night at the Ministry. Arthur Weasley had left it on as Remus lay sobbing on the couch, and a cheesy movie from the eighties, The Firm, came on. One of the lead actors looked a bit too much like Sirius, so Remus retrieved a poker from the fireplace and expended all of his energy smashing the television until he could barely recognize it anymore. Remus figured it was time to let the television go. Sirius was the one that liked to watch muggle TV anyway.
He made his way through the rooms, picking up dishes of half-eaten food and placing them gently in the sink. Perhaps he’d invite Harry, Ron, and Hermione over for dinner, he decided, and sent an owl with an invitation for the three of them. It would be good to see their faces, let them know they weren’t alone. He knew Harry was sent reeling by the events of that night, and he hadn’t been quite as good an Uncle Moony as he promised Lily and James he would be.
He made his way upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms where he had slept for the first few nights, before he could face their bedroom. The bed was still disheveled, and he stripped the sheets to wash them. He preferred cleaning the muggle way. It was one of the only ways he could get himself to clear his mind. As he lifted the pillows of the bed, he discovered a black ball of fabric. He lifted it, coming face to face with one of Sirius’ prized Led Zeppelin shirts. The memory flooded his mind.
Remus sat in his parents’ living room, reading a book, as he always did. It was nearly one in the morning, but Remus couldn’t put the book down, and his mother couldn’t be bothered to stop him before she went to sleep. Things were quiet in the Lupin household, usually. It was typically just the two of them, Hope and Remus. His father, Lyall, was clearly ashamed of having a werewolf as a son, so he spent as much time away from the house as he could these days. It was no skin off Remus’ back, he made clear to his mother. He had another family at Hogwarts.
He jumped in surprise as an owl pecked at the window. It was much too late for owlrey, but as he ripped open the Potter’s emblematic wax seal, he knew that this was urgent news.
Moony,
Get over here as soon as you can. It’s Pads.
Prongs
Remus felt bile rise in his throat. Sirius was meant to still be at his parents’ at Grimmauld Place. He couldn’t imagine what was going on over there that would make James owl him this late at night. He swallowed the lump in his throat and scribbled a quick message to his mother before crossing the room to their fireplace. He grabbed a fist full of floo powder and threw it down. “Potter Manor.” He commanded.
As soon as he landed in James’ living room, the house was alive with commotion. Effie flourished around the house, accio-ing various solvents and throwing them in a brewing cauldron. Monty was in the kitchen, arguing with— Professor Dumbledore? What was he doing there? Remus stepped into the house, coughing slightly from smoke. Effie looked up from her brew.
“Remus, you’re here. Good.” Here eyes flicked up to the staircase. “They’re in James’ room. You’d best be along.”
“Effie, what—?” Remus began. She put a hand up.
“I’d let them explain that, dear.” Remus started up the stairs, and as Effie quieted back to her brew, he could hear snippets of the conversation between Fleamont and Professor Dumbledore.
“What the bloody Merlin do you mean you can’t get him out, Albus?” Remus had never heard Monty sound so frantic, so agitated.
“Fleamont, Regulus is still technically a minor,” Albus’ voice was unnaturally calm. “We cannot remove him from that house without his or his parents’ consent.” His voice had an air to finality to it.
“That’s just—“
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to explain this to Sirius and James.” Their voices faded out as Remus reached the top of the stairs. His heart stuttered, unsure of what he was about to find going on in James’ room. He pushed the door open.
James and Sirius sat at the foot of James’ bed. Sirius was wrapped in James’ arms, shuddering as inhumane sounds left his body. James’ shirt was wet with tears. Sirius looked so small, Remus noticed in that moment. For someone who always commanded the attention of the room, Remus had never realized just how small Sirius was. He was just a boy. At that moment, James looked up, and a small breath of relief left his lips.
“Moony, thank Merlin you’re here—“
“Moony?” Sirius sniffled, his breath slowing for a moment. He looked up from James’ shoulder, and Remus couldn’t help but gape as he met Sirius’ gaze. Across his face were slashes, angry red and still dribbling small beads of blood. Remus stared for a moment. Sirius’ face, it reminded him of his.
We're too young, too dumb, to know things like love
But I know better now, better now
It was the fall of 1976, and as always, Remus and Sirius were butting heads. They seemed to be arguing about anything and everything nowadays. Remus couldn’t help it. It was fucking difficult hiding that you were madly in love with one of your best friends, especially when he was a pompous git who always believed he was right. Besides, Sirius didn’t feel the same way about him, and that was… fine, he supposed. They’d stay friends forever anyway, just as they had promised third year. This time, Remus honestly wasn’t even sure what they were arguing about.
“You’re such a fucking ass, Remus.” Sirius spat, throwing his cloak onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room. Remus followed him through the portrait into the common room, scoffing at his back.
“Well at least I have half a brain cell, Sirius!”
“I got a better grade in transfiguration than you, you slimy son of a—“
“Son of a what, Sirius? You gonna finish that?” Remus furrowed his eyebrows as Sirius groaned.
“No, Remus, I am not going to finish that. I’m just—“ Sirius crossed his arms, and Remus shuffled through his bag, trying to find his books for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
“Just..?” Remus goaded him.
“I’m just in love with you, you fuck!” Sirius all but screamed. The common room went silent. Everyone who had previously been attempting to ignore their argument was now staring right at them. Remus felt his face go red as the book fell out of his hands. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and he was sure he heard that wrong. This couldn’t be Sirius Black confessing that he loved him, Remus John Lupin. The teenage werewolf.
“You what?” Remus asked, voice small.
“You WHAT?” Remus hadn’t noticed that James was behind them until he shrieked. Sirius bit his tongue, and stepped closer to Remus. Remus didn’t dare step away.
“Yes, Remus. I am in love with you.” He confessed. “And I know that’s weird because we’re best friends and all, and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable at all,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Hell, I don’t even know if you’re gay or what but…” He looked up to Remus, who stood, shell shocked.
And then Remus kissed him. And everything seemed to fall into place.
It could have been hours, or days, when Harry found Remus laying, catatonically still, on the ground, a black t-shirt clutched in hand.
So I drown it out like I always do
Dancing through our house with the ghost of you
And I chase it down, with a shot of truth
Dancing through our house with the ghost of you
Remus hurried the three kids out of the house unceremoniously after Harry was able to shake him out of his state. He needed a drink, and fast. He needed to not be thinking— about Sirius, or anything for that matter. All he wanted was to be alone and to waste away in this house. He slipped the t-shirt over his neck, hit with the fresh scent of Sirius. He picked a black hair off of the shirt, reveling at the length, the slight curl. There he was.
Remus sat at the kitchen table, knocking back a shot of vodka. He had run out of firewhiskey, obviously, and he wasn’t leaving the house, so this would have to do. He had actually been sober for a while in these past two years, after Sirius had come back and Remus knew the truth. He supposed some part of him had always known that Sirius was innocent. That there was no way that the man that he loved this much would have done such a thing. And the feeling when he was right, and Sirius was back, and they were in love, it nearly made all the pain worth it.
But only two years had passed, and here Remus was again. Alone.
He hummed to himself, trying to drum up the good memories rather than the bad. The times where they tumbled through the doors of their London flat, giggling as they kissed and sometimes, not even making it to their bed before they were both stripped bare. The time they learned Lily was pregnant, and they were going to be uncles. Pa’foo and Moomy, Harry had just begun to say before their lives were destroyed. Even the fights, their knock-out, drag down fights. Sirius was such a drama queen, and Remus supposed he could be at times too, but they never went to bed angry, and they always said “I love you,” at the end.
Remus would give anything for one more “I love you.” He could have sworn that, as the green light hit Sirius in the chest and he fell through that veil, their eyes met. Remus knew that he was saying it with his eyes. I. Love. You. Remus couldn’t say it back before it was too late. He took another drink.
After a while, when his vision was beginning to go blurry and his eyes were getting glassy with tears, Remus heard the door to Grimmauld Place open. Whoever it was, they got past the defensive barriers. When he looked up, he thought he saw Sirius. His face, his nose— but the hair was pink.
“Nymphadora,” he slurred.
“Don’t call me that.” She dropped her bag on the table, making herself comfortable and sitting opposite Remus. “You want to wallow? Fine. But you’re not doing it alone.”
“The fuck’s that s’possed to mean?” Remus looked up at her, and she looked half like Sirius. He almost smiled. It was just that damned pink hair.
“It means pour me a drink, grandpa.”
And so he did.