A Responsible Godfather

2 November 1981

Sirius

Soft whimpering slowly woke Sirius from his blessedly dreamless sleep. His head was still on Remus's chest, their legs tangled together. Remus's chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically under his cheek. Still sleeping. He opened his eyes.

Bright shafts of sunlight slanted between the curtains. It appeared to be late morning. Gently, trying not to wake Remus, he untangled his legs to sit up. He spotted Harry sitting up in his cot, the source of the whimpering. Hearing his godfather’s movement, he stood unsteadily, his toddler legs still clumsy. His arms reached up past the edge, hands opening and closing, saying "Pads! Pads!" like he'd learned to do when he wanted his godfather.

Worried that the imminent tantrum might wake Remus, he rose quickly and padded quietly over to the crib, gathering Harry in his arms. Ignoring the tugs on his beard, he stepped out of the room, opening and closing the door as quietly as he could. His glance lingered on the sleeping Remus as the door shut. He looks so peaceful.

Pushing back thoughts of the totally un-peaceful past – he checked the hallway clock – 36 hours, Sirius took Harry to the kitchen. He had to shift him to his hip to open a cupboard, pulling out the high chair awkwardly with one hand. He positioned it at one end of the table and settled Harry into it.

"Yum?" Harry asked, emerald eyes bright. Smiling for the first time in ages, Sirius went to the fridge. There was no baby food, of course, but he found some fruit, waving his wand to cut it into bite-sized pieces. He sat next to the high chair and started passing bites to Harry, who gobbled them eagerly.

The fruit was almost gone by the time Remus came into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, hair and clothes still rumpled from sleep. Neither of them had even bothered with pyjamas in their exhaustion last night. Early this morning, really.

They didn't speak, but it was a comfortable silence. Remus moved through the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the grown-ups. Simple porridge, with a sprinkle of nutmeg for Sirius, and berries for Remus. Coffee for Sirius – black, of course – and tea for Remus, with a splash of milk and a generous dollop of honey. He placed the bowls and mugs on the table, and sat across from Sirius, just as he finished feeding Harry.

"Did Dumbledore say when w- when you should expect to move?" Remus asked, bringing the first spoon of porridge to his lips.

"Not really. Just that he would find me when it was time. He… seemed to know where I would go," said Sirius, ducking his head and starting on his own breakfast.

"Of course," Remus said lightly, a smile in his voice. Sirius still couldn't look at him. The shame and regret over his choices, and their consequences, were bubbling back to the surface, ready to drown him again.

"Sirius." He looked up. Remus was staring at him, his expression determined. "I don't blame you. Things got so messed up between us, after… it was my fault as much as yours. Probably more so. But you didn't kill James. Voldemort did. You didn't betray the Potters. Peter did. What's done is done, and we have to make the best of it. We have to move forward.

"Don't forget, Harry comes first now. You're being a responsible godfather. And… I’ll be here to help, whatever the two of you need. I – I want to come with you, if you’ll let me. To protect Harry.” Remus continued staring with that determined expression, though he fidgeted a bit, like he thought Sirius might turn him down.

Harry was giggling and babbling at the sound of his name, blissfully ignorant of the tense atmosphere. Sirius thought his heart might leap up his throat and out of his mouth. "I don't blame you… I'll be here… " The words he had prayed for, but never honestly expected to hear, had actually been said. He'd made the biggest mistake of his life, he'd regret it forever, and Remus didn't blame him. He was still here. He wants to come with us.

Far from wanting to reject the offer, Sirius felt a sense of relief and wonder wash through him like a balm. "Moony… thank you. Yes. Thank you for helping us, Harry, me. I'll feel so much better with you there. I know you need time to forgive me, but thank you for putting that aside to keep Harry safe. You'll be so much better at it than I ever could." His voice broke, and he hid his face in his coffee mug while squeezing his eyes against the tears pricking at their corners.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Pads.”

Sirius stared at his friend in shock, not believing his own ears, unable even to process the words of absolution. What I did was unforgivable. How could he forgive me so quickly? I haven't even forgiven myself. I don't know if I can. Has he really…? Is this a dream?

He actually pinched himself to check. Remus caught the movement and smiled softly. "You're not dreaming, Pads. I've already forgiven you. And I'm here. For you and Harry."

Another childish giggle came from the high chair. "Moon! Moon!" Harry was reaching for Remus now, tiny hands opening and closing. With a smile, Remus picked him up out of the chair, bouncing him on his lap. He resumed eating his breakfast, sipping his tea.

"We should take the time to prepare, to make plans for when Dumbledore comes to move us. As much as we can. And we have to keep Harry distracted. This… won't be easy for him."

Always the practical one, our Moony , thought Sirius. As he contemplated Remus's words, Sirius began to dread the moment Harry asked for "Mum" or "Da." Thus far, he seemed happy to be with "Pads" and "Moon," but it wouldn't last forever. He was far too young to understand that his parents were gone. We have to be his parents now.

Remus

He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was putting on a brave face. Remus was eager to forgive Sirius, but he didn’t know how to move forward. The events of Hallowe’en had been devastating. James and Lily had been family, to all of them… except, apparently, Peter.

Pettigrew's betrayal was still so hard to believe. He finally realised, with the clarity of sobriety, the real reason he'd found it easier to think of Sirius as a traitor. Sirius had always been volatile, emotional, acting before thinking. Not to mention their argument…

But Peter had always seemed innocuous. Quiet, shy, thrilled to be a Marauder, worshipful of James and Sirius. He seemed too weak to do something so despicable, so evil. Perhaps that weakness was, in fact, the reason he'd turned to the Dark.

The war had been going badly. No one had wanted to say it out loud, but they were losing. Voldemort was too powerful, his followers too numerous, and none of them had any scruples about using viciously Dark magic against opponents and innocents alike. The Order of the Phoenix had done their best to fight, but they had to work around the Ministry, the Muggles, their dwindling numbers, and their commitment to the Light. The Death Eaters had no such limitations. They picked off the Order members, winning battle after battle.

It hadn't helped that, for the past year, Voldemort and his followers had seemed to anticipate the Order's every move. After months of being thwarted, ambushed, and raided, and failing in every attempt to strike back in kind, they had been forced to admit the unthinkable. There was a spy in their ranks.

Pettigrew must have decided that the Order was losing, so he picked the winning side, and set about ensuring the outcome. He was so selfish ; he didn't just betray the Potters, he sold out everyone . His friends, the Order, everyone and everything good in the world, everything worth fighting for. Because he was weak.

Just because he now understood Pettigrew's actions, didn't mean Remus forgave him. Forgiving Sirius should be easy; he’d made a lot of mistakes, but all were in an effort to protect the people he loved. Forgiving Peter would be impossible. Remus was glad Dumbledore was after him, but a part of him still hoped Pettigrew would be arrested, not killed. The part that remembered him as a friend, but also the part that thought Azkaban or the Kiss might be worse than death. A fate Pettigrew surely deserved.

These thoughts twisted and tangled through Remus's brain, even as he spoke of putting the past behind them and moving forward. He had to be strong, had to be practical, had to set an example for Sirius and Harry. Even if Harry was too young to understand, Remus knew Sirius would need all the help he could get, to be a responsible godfather and guardian.

Once they'd finished their breakfast, they moved to the living room, laying out a charmed playmat and toys for little Harry. He played and babbled buoyantly while the grown-ups sat, not talking yet, but this silence started to become awkward and tense.

It was up to Remus to break the tension. "You said we'd have to take false identities to go into hiding, in the Muggle world. I don't know if Dumbledore is going to set that up for us, but I feel we should have an idea of our backstory before we go. Something close enough to the truth to be easy for us, but far enough not to be obvious to anyone looking for Harry."

Sirius nodded, his brows knitting together as he stared at the table. "How about this – I can be Harry's uncle, taking care of him because my brother and sister-in-law died. In… in a robbery, maybe?”

Remus nodded. And what about me? "That sounds appropriate. And I… I'll be your old friend from boarding school, helping because I was close to you and your brother. Two bachelors raising a kid, yeah?" he added with a smirk.

Sirius returned both the nod and the smirk. "Close enough to the truth. We'll need names, too…" Sirius looked like his mental gears were whirring into overdrive.

Letting the inspiration flow, Remus supplied, "Cyrus and Harold… Kettle. And Remy Wulf."

Sirius grinned. "Brilliant."

7 November 1981

Remus

It took almost a week before they heard anything from Dumbledore. During this time, they had no direct contact with any wixen, and barely left the house. Remus was used to isolation, but he could tell Sirius was getting stir-crazy. Unable to distract himself from his grief, he'd taken to pacing around Lupin Cottage, stomping a path through the rooms, around the property, checking the wards with unnecessary frequency, while Remus watched with pursed lips.

The nights were the worst. Every evening, they curled into each other for comfort, hoping that closeness would stave off any nightmares, as it had the first night. But every night, one or the other of them would awake with a cry, then sob themselves back to sleep. They'd cling to each other in the dark, both feeling helpless to lessen the overwhelming sense of loss. "We have each other," they constantly reminded one another. It's not enough, they both thought with despair.

Sirius’s birthday passed with little more than a fairy cake with a candle, which Harry ate. Neither of the adults felt much like celebrating.

The news about the Longbottoms didn't help. Frank and Alice had been ahead of the Marauders at Hogwarts, but being in the Order together had made them close friends. Remus knew that they had been in hiding, just like the Potters, to protect their own son, Neville.

Neville Longbottom had been born a day before Harry. While neither of them had ever seen the boy, both Sirius and Remus were heartbroken on his behalf, devastated that the end of the war still hadn't prevented his parents being taken from him. Remus had to stop Sirius from running out to "rescue" the boy, reminding him that Neville still had family left to take care of him. Unlike Harry.

No, not unlike Harry. We're his family now. He said as much to Sirius.

They couldn’t even go to James and Lily’s funeral, let alone bring Harry. Sirius made the arrangements by secure owl chain.

Finally, when it seemed like Sirius was ready to snap and run off without waiting for Dumbledore's help, a phoenix Patronus swooped through a closed window, opening its beak to speak in Dumbledore's measured voice:

"Pettigrew has been arrested. He is awaiting trial in Azkaban. I am beginning preparations for your relocation. Do not leave the house. Contact no one. Wait for me to contact you."

Remus and Sirius were sitting in the living room again, together on the sofa instead of separately, with Harry on his playmat. This was a routine they had fallen into; whenever Sirius grew tired of pacing, he joined Remus to watch Harry. The appearance of Dumbledore's Patronus stunned them into silence for several minutes. Harry had looked up and exclaimed delightedly, "Bir! Bir!" before going back to following his dragon as it flapped around his head.

The first few days, Harry had frequently asked for "Mum" or "Da," screaming bloody murder when they did not appear. Sirius seemed at a loss as to how to comfort him, having a hard enough time calming himself.

Remus stepped up, rocking the toddler each time, repeating, "Moony's here. Padfoot's here." Eventually, Sirius took his cue from Remus, stepping in with the same platitudes as often as Remus did. The incidents were becoming less frequent, Harry's toddler mind starting to accept that Mum and Dad would not materialise.

There was one incident where Harry, cycling through the list of names he knew how to say (scream), landed briefly on "Wurmy"... But only the one time. Perhaps even he could sense the reactions of his guardians to that name on his lips.

Pettigrew is in Azkaban. He'll stand trial for his betrayal. "Well… this is good news, I suppose, all things considered," said Remus. Sirius sighed, leaning back on the couch next to him, hands behind his head and feet kicked up on the coffee table.

"Yeah. At least he won't be able to come after Harry. I just wish I could have…"

Gotten revenge. Killed the traitorous rat himself. The words did not need to be repeated, again. Remus knew the monologue. He understood. "And now Dumbledore can work on our relocation. We won't be stuck here too much longer," he smirked.

Sirius snorted and leaned forward, placing his feet on the floor to rest his elbows on his knees. "I don't know how Prongs did this for over a year. It's been less than a week, and I feel like I'm becoming claustrophobic."

Nodding in understanding, Remus replied, "It's only temporary. With new identities, in the Muggle world, we should be able to move about with relative freedom." And we won't have to worry about Pettigrew finding us. Finding Harry.

They'd said it all so many times this week, there was no more need to repeat it. There was only so much planning they could do without knowing what Dumbledore had in mind, so their conversations had become increasingly circular. Remus had retreated into his books; Sirius, not being much of a reader himself, had taken to working on his bike, out in the fresh air but still behind the wards.

With no actual parts nor anything to repair, Remus didn't really know what he had to work on. He suspected Sirius was just taking bits of the bike apart and putting them back together, for something to do. Keeping his hands busy. No wonder he's restless. Sirius had never been comfortable with inaction. He was decidedly not a patient man.

Remus was tapping into his own reserves of patience, not because they were housebound, but because Sirius kept coming in looking sweaty, dishevelled, and greasy in his Muggle attire – stained white t-shirt and tight jeans, hair gathered in a knot at the back of his neck, loose strands plastered to his skin by perspiration. Don't go there. Don't stare. Don't picture him. Don't think about him peeling that shirt off, skin glistening… fuck. STOP.

Variations on this mental battle occurred in Remus's head every damn day. He really hoped that relocating would help, because otherwise, he had no idea how to get through years of living with Sirius, burying these thoughts.

It certainly didn't help that they were still sharing the guest bed, both wanting to be near Harry, and neither wanting to sleep alone. Sirius would curl into Remus's chest, Remus's arm wrapping around his shoulders automatically, their legs tangling together. Not knowing how Sirius actually felt, or if he'd changed his mind after their last argument, Remus didn't push for more. Nor did he bring it up with Sirius.

"Maybe we should start packing," Sirius said, drawing Remus out of his thoughts.

"Mmm," was all he could say, still trying to get the image of a sweaty, shirtless Sirius in snug denims out of his head. Again. "Yes. Packing would be good. Something new to do."

Rising from the couch, Sirius added, "Let's do it the Muggle way. Good practice. Not to mention it will keep us busy for longer."

Smiling in agreement, Remus rose as well. "We'll at least have to transfigure the boxes, but yes, I think packing by hand would be good practice. Where shall we start?"

"How about with all your books, Remy?" Sirius winked. Remus tried to ignore his heart, which had done a backflip.

Sirius

Packing without magic was torture . How the fuck do Muggles get anything done? Sirius wished he could just wave his wand and let all these bloody books pack themselves, but seeing as packing by hand had been his idea – stupid fucking idea, what the bloody Hel was I thinking? – he had to see it through.

The lack of magic seemed to come annoyingly easy to Remus. He managed to fit the books into the boxes tightly, filling all available space like a jigsaw puzzle. Sirius tried his best, but his boxes always seemed disorderly and half-empty in comparison. How does Moony do it?

Trying to watch out of the corner of his eye, hoping to learn the secret, Sirius realised Remus was glancing sidelong at him as well. Their eyes met, and they both looked hurriedly back to their tasks, each pretending they hadn't been watching the other. I know why I'm looking at him, but why is he looking at me ?

Because he wants you, you idiot , his conscience replied. Ah. Yes. That.

He'd been repressing the thought, he realised, pretending their argument had never happened. It was so easy to be around him now, so comfortable to sit across from each other at meals, letting their knees touch occasionally, or next to each other on the couch, leaning against each other from time to time. And of course, they fell asleep together every night, cuddling for comfort.

Is it just about comfort? Or… do I maybe want more?

He certainly does. You should probably figure your shit out before you break his heart. Again. His stupid conscience was getting annoying. Shut up.

Then he realised, Fuck. I'm talking to myself.

At least it's not out loud, came the reply.

SHUT. UP.

"Sirius, you're trying to cram a bookend into a full box. Start a new one. No Undetectable Extension Charms here," Remus chuckled, interrupting the mental argument.

Sirius fumbled, stuttering an apology, and tried to focus on what he was doing. His conscience had other ideas.

Doyou want him? Not just physically. Romantically. Do you want to be with him? Spend your life with him, not just to take care of Harry, but because you both want to be together ? Can you give him what he wants?

He had no answers.

Maybe he should try talking about it, out loud. Remus always had answers.

Don't. Don't put him through that. He deserves certainty, not confusion. You can't talk to him about your feelings until you know what they are.

He couldn't argue with that. Fine. How do I feel?

Silence. Arse.

Yes, you are.

Ugh. Sirius went back to concentrating on packing, making a mental note to return to these ruminations later. His mental "for later" board was getting a bit full.

8 November 1981

Sirius

That night, he dreamed about Remus. Well, more a memory than a dream.

Sirius stood in the nursery at Potter Cottage, hands resting on the edge of Harry's cot, watching the sleeping infant. He looked utterly peaceful, tiny hand grasping the wing of his plush hippogriff. Sirius wished he could feel that peace.

Prongs had asked him to be godfather. He'd been elated, accepting with no hesitation, jubilantly holding his newborn godson. Now, he wondered if he should have hesitated.

"What if I'm a shit godfather? What if I can't protect you?" he whispered aloud.

"You'll figure it out. I know you will," Remus's voice replied.

Spinning around, Sirius realised Remus was standing in the open doorway, watching him watch Harry, smiling softly.

"Shit, Moony, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack! How long have you been standing there?" They were both speaking softly, trying not to wake Harry, but Sirius's tone was still harsher than Remus's had been.

Remus didn't reply, but stepped into the room, moving to stand by Sirius's side. Placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder, Remus turned them both back towards Harry.

After a moment of comfortable silence – in which Sirius's heart returned to normal rhythm – Remus spoke again. His words came slowly, like he was choosing them carefully.

"You have the makings of a good godfather, Sirius." Sirius snorted at this, but Remus shook his head, raising a hand for silence. "I know you do. But you can't let your emotions get the best of you."

His gaze was intense, eyes penetrating through to Sirius's heart and soul, to his very core. "Remember to stop long enough to think before you act. Harry comes first, now. Be a responsible godfather for him."

Sirius took a moment to absorb the advice, but he still felt like he might not be up to the task. "What if I can't do it? What if I fuck up?" Like always , he didn't add.

Remus shook his head again, but this time he was smiling. "Then I'll be here to set you straight. I'll help you figure it out, make it right, whatever you need."

Sirius sighed in relief. "Promise?"

Remus gathered him in a hug, stroking a soothing line down his back. "Swear it on my heart," he whispered into Sirius's hair.

Sirius leaned into the embrace, resting his cheek on his best friend's chest. "Thank you. I'll hold you to that." They both chuckled quietly.

Sirius's eyes opened in the present.

It was still dark. Remus was still sleeping next to him, under him. Tiny toddler snores came from the crib in the corner. A glance at the clock on the bedside table told him it was half three in the morning. But he felt wide awake. His mind was racing.

He couldn’t do this without Remus. He couldn’t take care of Harry alone, but more than that, he needed Remus in a way that he had never really needed anyone else, maybe not even James. That memory was just one in a long string of Remus being his rock, his lifeline, his… partner.

But is needing him the same as wanting him?

Is it enough?

He still didn’t have an answer. He knew it wouldn’t be fair to bring this up to Remus unless he was certain, but he also felt like it was unfair to drag Remus along into living together in hiding while dealing with this uncertainty.

He had no idea what to do.

15 September 1981

Remus

The full moon was over, but Remus was still recovering. It was always difficult for several days, but being with an unfamiliar pack somehow made it worse. But it had to be done. He was obviously the only member of the Order qualified to infiltrate the "lycanthrope community."

Rising from bed, stretching his stiff muscles, he headed toward the kitchen, hoping a hot breakfast and a cup of tea would help. As he rounded the corner, however, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Sirius was sitting at his kitchen table.

Sirius looked up, expression unreadable. That was unusual. Remus could always read Sirius like an open book. "Good morning, Pads," he said blankly, wondering what the hell he was doing here, not to mention how the fuck he got in.

"Morning, Remus." Remus, not Moony. That wasn't a good sign.

"Did something happen? James and Lily–"

"The Potters are fine. Gideon and Fabian Prewett aren't, though. They're dead."

Remus still didn't understand Sirius's expression. It was almost… accusatory?

"I– I'm sorry to hear that. They were great men. We'll all miss the comic relief they brought–"

"Yes, always nice to laugh at a war," Sirius snapped sarcastically. He kept interrupting Remus, who was starting to get annoyed. "They were on a mission that, somehow, the Death Eaters seemed to know all about. They fought like heroes – I was there. But we were hopelessly outnumbered. It was all we could do to get out alive. Gideon and Fabian fought to give us cover, and died for it."

Now, he could read the expression. Sirius was bitter, and angry. Angry, Remus could understand, but why the bitterness?

"I'm so sorry, Sirius. When did this happen?"

"Two nights ago. A mission you were conveniently unable to attend."

Anger rose in Remus now, too. "Conveniently?! It was a full moon, you dickhead! I was busy trying not to get ripped apart by other werewolves!" he spat.

This was obviously not a helpful response. Sirius rose from the kitchen table, chair clattering to the floor behind him, incandescent with rage. "Are you sure you weren't working with the werewolves? Helping them with their own mission? We had reports of multiple werewolf attacks that night. No survivors." The bitterness was positively dripping from him now.

Remus's mouth opened and closed silently, throat shut by shock and indignation. Finally, he spat back, "You know I never would! You know I always find a safe place to–"

"Do I?" Sirius interrupted again . " Do I know that? You've been distant for weeks. Avoiding me. I've barely seen you. Haven't spent a full moon with you in ages. How do I know you haven't changed your ways?"

Remus couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had been avoiding Sirius, but for completely different reasons that had nothing to do with his loyalty to the Order. "I… I wasn't… I haven't…" He couldn't find the words.

"The Death Eaters have been anticipating our every move, thwarting us at every turn. They're winning. And we've realised why. There's a spy in the Order."

There it was. Sirius thought he was a spy. He'd been distant, avoiding his best friend, who now thought he was a spy. "You know I'd never–" he tried again, but Sirius wasn't going to let him finish.

"No, I don't know that! I don't know anything! I haven't seen you in weeks! Why are you avoiding me, if not because you're working for Voldemort now?"

The accusations were unbearable. He couldn't stand for Sirius to think of him like this. "You want to know why I've been avoiding you?" Sirius didn't interrupt this time, just stared at him, eyes hard, waiting for an explanation. "You want to know why I've been distant and awkward?"

Remus was panting now, fists clenched at his sides. It felt like white noise was blasting in his ears. His vision blurred, and he realised he was about to cry. He couldn't think straight. He knew he had to prove himself to Sirius, but had no idea how. Something snapped.

"This is why!"

He stepped into Sirius, and before he could react, Remus grabbed his neck with one hand, his leather jacket with the other, and crashed their lips together.

Which was absolutely the wrong thing to do.

Sirius

Remus's lips crashed into his, and his brain short-circuited. Receiving no conscious instruction, his body reacted automatically. He grabbed Remus's nightshirt with both fists, and kissed him back, all his anger pouring out through lips and tongue and teeth.

Then his brain restarted.

He shoved Remus away violently, watching him stumble against the table with bitter satisfaction. "How dare you? How fucking dare you, Remus?!"

Remus looked shocked, bewildered, regretful, like he understood his own actions as little as Sirius did. Ignoring this, Sirius let the rage take over. "Fuck you. FUCK you. I'm leaving. Don't follow me. I never want to see your hideous face again, traitor." He spun on his heel and marched out of the kitchen, out of the house, with never a backwards glance.

But with every step, he saw Remus's last expression – broken, tearful, hopeless – floating in front of him, and felt his eyes on his back.

8 November 1981

Sirius

Memories of Remus replayed themselves behind Sirius’s eyes. He'd given up on sleep. Another glance at the clock told him it was now 5 AM.

Remus would be up soon.

Sirius thought he might have an answer now. He couldn’t move forward without a partner by his side, and every time he needed someone to give him a real push in the past, Remus had been there. James had been Sirius’s brother, to be sure, but James tended to coddle him. Remus was always the one to tell them when they were being arseholes, along with Lily.

Sirius needed Remus to balance him, the way Lily had balanced James.

I think we might have our answer, his conscience piped in.

He sighed inwardly. Now I just have to figure out how to fix it.

This time, Remus's voice replied: We can fix it together. You don't have to do it all alone.

What the fuck do I say, though? How do I even start? He tried to come up with a plan, an opening line, anything, but he couldn't figure out what to do. His conscience was entirely unhelpful.

Tell him how you feel. You know that now, don't you? So just say it.

Yes, alright, buthow?!

Er…

He snorted. Right.

The minutes ticked away. After 6 AM, Remus's breathing started to lose its rhythm, consciousness clearly looming. Fuck. Why does he have to be such a bloody early riser?

What, like more time would help?

Sirius found he was staring up at Remus, still resting his head on his chest. Remus's eyelids had started to twitch. Finally, they opened, instantly meeting Sirius's gaze. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Shit.

"Pads?" Remus said, lips still clumsy with sleep. Sirius's eyes were drawn to his mouth. Remus didn't fail to notice this. "Sirius…"

Letting his instincts take over, Sirius leaned upwards, slowly, giving Remus plenty of time to pull away. He didn't.

Their lips met.

It was so very different from their first kiss. Soft, slow, gentle, almost uncertain, trying to find their rhythm. When they did, Sirius found his tongue tracing Remus's lower lip, without him ever telling it to.

Remus moaned softly, lips parting, allowing Sirius entrance. Their tongues met in a leisurely dance, starting to explore each other, learning the taste and shape. For a moment, there was nothing but the feel of each other. They were in a world of their own. It was magic.

A snore from the cot brought them back to the room. Wordlessly, Remus pressed on his shoulder, gesturing towards the door. They untangled their legs, rising and exiting in silence, stopping in the hall as Remus closed the door. He turned.

"Sirius, what–"

Just tell him. "I had a late-night epiphany," he interrupted. "You've always been there for me, and I– I finally realised that I can't… I can't live without you. Not just because of Harry, but because… you're my rock, my lifeline, my partner. I want to give you everything. My life, my heart, my soul… it's all yours."

His voice was breaking. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He'd never bared his feelings like this, never been this vulnerable with anyone, but he knew Remus deserved to hear it. Especially after our first kiss…

He'd been looking down slightly, staring at the place where Remus's neck met his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. Part of him wanted to lean in to kiss him there, but he looked up instead.

Remus's expression was shocked, but clearly a happy sort of surprise. "Sirius…"

Before he could speak any more, Sirius leaned up, silencing him with another kiss. This one was different again. He let his passion pour out, moving his lips with fervor, tasting Remus with his tongue without waiting for permission. He didn't need to. Remus kissed him back with equal passion, matching his every move, a soft whimper escaping him.

<SMUT WARNING BEGINS>

Their arms wrapped around each other, tight, their bodies pressed together at every possible point, but it still wasn't close enough. Without breaking their kiss, they moved in tandem, through the open door to Remus's bedroom. Sirius kicked the door closed behind them, throwing up a Silencing Charm before tossing his wand away.

He walked them to Remus's bed, stopping when he knew Remus's legs had met the edge. His hands moved back around to Remus's front, unbuttoning his nightshirt carefully. Another whimper against his lips. He drank the sound, lapped it up, reaching the bottom button and pushing the shirt off Remus's shoulders, impatient with the need for space as he removed it and tossed it away.

Remus, in turn, dragged his fingers to the bottom of Sirius's t-shirt, rolling it up as his hands caressed Sirius's stomach, his chest, his shoulders. Their lips and tongues had still been moving together, but they had to break the kiss for Sirius's shirt to come off. Sirius barely even opened his eyes, crashing their mouths back together as soon as the shirt was gone.

His hands roamed across Remus's bare shoulders, down his back, lower and lower until he was cupping his arse. His thumbs hooked into Remus's trousers, but before he could pull them down, Remus pulled away.

Confused, Sirius opened his eyes, looking up into Remus's. "Do you want me to stop?"

Remus was flushed, breathless. Exquisite. "No," he panted, "I just… are you sure?"

Sirius smiled. This was so much easier than he'd ever hoped. Well, hoped for the last few hours, anyway. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, love."

Remus met his lips again with a groan, which Sirius took as permission to keep undressing him.

He had to break away again to push his trousers down enough, and caught sight of Remus's thick, red length. His mouth watered. He pressed his lips to Remus's stomach, revelling in the firm abs under his mouth, but he moved upwards instead of down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and licks up Remus's chest and neck, back to his lips.

He felt him step out of the trousers and kick them away. Not to be outmatched, Remus's hands were wandering down Sirius's chest, tweaking his nipples on the way down to his trunks. Soon, they were both bare, and Sirius felt their cocks touch, lighting a fire in his belly.

They tumbled together into the bed, breaking apart again while Remus shifted up to rest his head on the pillows, Sirius crawling up his body to join him. They couldn't get enough of each other. But Sirius had to be certain.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice husky with lust.

Remus beamed at him. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, my love," he echoed back.

Wandlessly, Sirius cast a preparation charm, magic surging in anticipation. Remus gasped – glorious – and hooked his hands under his knees, holding himself open. Sirius hesitated, just for a moment, eyes locked with Remus's as he lined himself up, watching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he pressed forward.

They both moaned at the sensation, Remus's eyes rolling back into his head, Sirius's closing tight as he leaned their foreheads together. He kissed him again as he kept pushing, until he bottomed out, their hips meeting.

He stayed there for several seconds, exploring his lover's mouth, letting his arms wrap around him. Remus's arms wrapped around him in turn, knees squeezing his sides. His hands reached up to Sirius’s shoulders at first, before trailing down to his arse, giving a squeeze and a tug, urging him to move.

Slowly, gently, Sirius began to rock his hips, pulling out, pushing in, back and forth. He set a slow, torturous rhythm, taking his time, letting his tongue move in tandem with his cock. Remus moaned and whimpered into his mouth, and Sirius captured every sound of pleasure, licking them up as if they were the nectar of the gods.

Remus's hips started to rock up to meet his, hands still clutching his cheeks. Sirius was trying to maintain the pace, resisting the urge to move faster, but when Remus started to push on him, nipping at his lip, clearly wanting more, Sirius lost all semblance of control.

His hips moved faster, faster, until he was pounding Remus into the mattress. Unable to maintain the kiss at this pace, he propped himself on his elbows, choosing to gaze down at Remus instead.

Remus was panting, sweating, eyes still rolled up, mouth open in a silent moan. Sirius shifted his weight to one arm, reaching the other between them, wrapping his fingers around Remus's shaft to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Unable to stay silent, Remus pressed his head back and keened, as Sirius watched in wonder.

Quickly – too soon – he felt the pressure building in his abdomen, tightening into a coil that was ready to snap any second. He quickened his strokes, his hand now jerking faster than his hips, desperate for them to finish together.

He got his wish. Just as he felt his cock starting to twitch, Remus's did too. With a final groan, he pressed their foreheads back together, snapping his hips once, twice, until his rhythm faltered. Emptying himself into Remus, he felt his length twitching and pulsing in his hand, and then the sticky wetness that coated them both.

Crushing their lips together once more, Sirius let his hand move up to cup Remus's jaw, kissing him hard at first, then gradually softening along with his cock. He slipped out gently, breaking the kiss to roll onto his side. He rested his head on Remus's chest, their legs tangling together like they did every night, but this time without a stitch of clothing between them. They were both hot and sweaty and sticky, but neither gave a damn, too elated to care.

He felt Remus's lips press into his hair, as his fingers began their path along his spine. His breath brushed the top of Sirius's head as he whispered, "I love you."

Grinning into his chest, happier than he could ever remember being, Sirius responded with complete sincerity, "I love you, too."