Chapter 22
Three Years Earlier, New England, USA:
Sirius yearned for Remus relentlessly. Needed him, really. Thought about him nearly every second of every day yet knew he had to stay away. Wandered through the tall grasses by the beach in the middle of the night and ached for the man he had chosen to abandon then cursed himself endlessly for doing so, only to remember that there was no other option and relive the process the next morning. It seemed to encompass every one of Sirius’s days, the aching and yearning. The sore feeling in his chest that never quite went away and the bitter taste in his mouth from the distance that he himself had forced upon them.
He felt sore, raw, and split open as he toed mindlessly at the damp sand, slipping on the slightly slick rocks that rose out of it with no Remus to catch him when he did. Sirius landed on his arse then, hard and punishing, and as Sirius stumbled to stand himself back up he couldn’t help feeling as if he deserved it.
He had to learn to do things for himself now anyway, to walk along the beach without Remus’s sure hands there to carefully guide him along. His sweet nothings in his ear and short laugh while he got Sirius righted and out of harm's way, reassuring with his movements instead as his Moony never bothered to hide his amusement. His lingering grin as he smoothed away any shameful creases between Sirius’s brows that may arise. So unbelievably kind as Remus assured his, ‘it happens to the best of love’, laughed and reminisced on how he’d banged his knee on the stove door that morning and how ‘the damn thing’ll never close’ and all of Sirius’s shame and insecurities would be so easily wiped away.
But Sirius didn’t have that now, and he would have to learn to live without it. It was an emptiness Sirius forced himself to endure as he accidentally stepped on a sharply tipped seashell that he knew Remus would have spotted from far off and picked up for him, easily and instinctively making sure that situation would never take place, but it had and Sirius felt a few tears dwelling in the corners of his eyes as he hissed at the sting and pulled the fragments out of the bottom of his foot. Sat down and watched the blood pool there for a minute as he previously hadn’t been sure that he could still bleed.
But it appeared monstrous or not he could still be injured just like he could before. If Sirius wasn’t so deeply stuck within his spiral of self loathing he would have found that inconvenient, but lost in it as he was, Sirius could only think that it seemed a fitting punishment. That perhaps it wasn’t nearly punishment enough. He sighed and used his discarded sock as a makeshift bandage for his foot before all but limping back to his uncle’s beach house.
Back inside before the sun rose, he sipped his coffee that wasn’t made quite right and stared hollowly at the touristy Scottish flag magnet on his uncle Alphard’s fridge that reminded of the time his Moony had taken him there.
Of when Remus had run up the lush green hills with him in the rain until Sirius had tripped and twisted his ankle then dried him off with thick orange towels and told him he stunk of wet dog. Smattered him in plenty of ‘I’m sorry’ kisses when Sirius had milked his injury for all it was worth, pouted heavily at the insult as if his feelings were oh so terribly hurt. He remembered how Remus had carried him from room to room after Sirius had accidentally put weight on his ankle, then cuddled up to watch movies with him that he let Sirius pick because he was a ‘fallen soldier’. How Remus had read him half a dozen books in English, Welsh, and Scottish and made Sirius’s coffee just right without even trying. Like Remus always did. Everything about him was just right for Sirius.
Sirius had felt so full then, so warm sitting by the wood burning fireplace, wrapped up in hideous blankets and his boyfriend’s arms. He hadn’t been hollowed out by the loss of his humanity and his abandonment of the love of his life.
Wasn’t shivering as he drank his not warm enough, not sweet enough coffee even though the temperature in his uncle’s home was reasonably high. Yearning for a man an ocean away that he had chosen to run away from. To devastate as if he didn’t care about the ramifications of doing so then cry to himself because he so painstakingly did.
Sirius knew he was an awful person, and perhaps an even worse one for pitying himself for it. As if his circumstances weren’t completely of his own making.
Body tired and bones sore from his purposeful lack of feeding and his severe deprivation of sleep, Sirius nearly stumbled over his own chair as he got up. Stepping harshly on his foot that he had forgotten was injured before he dragged himself to his uncle’s library to give himself something to do, and longed for the days when he felt more than just his solemn misery and nagging hunger for blood from days of depriving himself of it.
Wished he felt cherished again like when Remus had drank a little too much and told him that he thought Sirius’s soul was made out of starlight. Slurred, ‘cuz you fell from the heavens baby,’ and fell asleep only after cuddling Sirius into him territorially and curling up into the crook of Sirius’s neck like a big cat lying out in the sun. Arms tight around his waist as Remus mumbled in his sleep, woke up slightly more sober with a dopey smile on his face and asked,
“Did ‘ya get me drunk again Pads?” Then tutted that Sirius was ‘such a bad influence on him’ with the absolute fondest eyes before Remus decided he wasn’t drunk anymore and took Sirius into his bedroom to ‘sweat the rest of the alcohol off’ and Sirius had felt absolutely no reason to let his boyfriend know that that probably wasn’t how that worked.
Remus all warm smiles the next morning even though he had a hangover and up making Sirius breakfast as if he didn’t. Sirius remembered asking about it over baked eggs and breakfast sausage and receiving only a wink and a ‘wolves recover quicker cariad,’ though Sirius knew that Remus was just stubbornly shoving down any discomfort he might have felt like he always did. Peppering him with kisses until Sirius forgot about the matter entirely and Merlin, how Sirius missed fussing over him.
All the small things that he hadn’t necessarily thought much of before—perhaps even taken for granted—he longed for terribly now. Even just the sound of Remus humming under his breath as he made his tea in the morning, singing quietly in Welsh or occasionally English and the adjoining sound of the kettle whistling and banging a bit. Shaking and popping too because it was decades old but Remus refused to get rid of it because it had been his nana’s.
The lid had flown off of the thing a handful of times—clanged against the counter or whatever other surface it hit rather loudly and spewed scalding hot water everywhere—but Remus still insisted that ‘it works perfectly fine, love,’ and Sirius had given him a look but hadn’t had the heart to argue it. Remus kissing his forehead triumphantly then theorizing if perhaps taping the lid down would work or if that was a dangerous proposition.
Nudging him to ‘eat, Pads’ like he always did because for whatever reason he thought Sirius was too skinny. But a little over a year without Remus’s loving nudges for Sirius to take care of himself Sirius found himself missing those nagging reminders exponentially. The warm hugs and sarcastic remarks that Remus always gave, the sound of his pen scratching in the answers to the Sunday crossword.
Sirius ached from the prolonged lack of his Moony’s kisses and the guilt he felt every day from what he had done to him. He hated telling himself over and over again that it was all for the best anyway when Sirius only half believed it. Hated himself, really, but Sirius had grown tired of indulging himself in that.
So he stretched out his sore joints, rubbed his all too heavy eyes and rummaged through the painstakingly organized shelves until he found the book he was looking for and picked up where he had left off.
Tried his absolute best to ignore the Remus shaped hole in his heart while he did, something that hurt far worse than his self imposed starvation ever could.
. . .
Sirius read until he passed out, exhaustion taking over his malnourished form in a harsh and sudden wave when he tried to stand up too quickly, hours having passed by of Sirius locking himself away in the library. Scrutinizing dozens of banned texts that depicted the so-called ‘demons of the night’, their hidden histories of being bred by only the most elite families, the Blacks being the most prominent of them. How that had devolved into a curse that could very rarely be broken, imposing misery on every one of its subjects as a price for the misery the house of Black had imposed on others.
Sirius had even found the diaries of his ancestor, Altair Black, who had been cursed and turned just as Sirius had and fallen deeply in love with a woman declared a demon by the rest of the town and accompanied her on full moons—only he able to see her for what she truly was. Altair had filled journal after journal illustrating his love for her, writing of her kindness and beauty, her intellect, and individualism. Her care for a young werewolf boy that hid away in a cave near her dwelling, and how Altair hated that he couldn’t spend all his eons with her. How he had used his wealth to build a proper home for her and the werewolf child and cursed his own father when he tried to prevent him from marrying the woman in the woods.
Sirius nearly lost himself in the yellowing pages that depicted their love, how Altair had escaped the curse on his own, spent all of his nights with the woman he loved and sworn to remake the house of Black into something far less monstrous until his younger sister killed him in a brutal battle that was depicted gently by the werewolf woman he had married.
Sirius had cried as he read the rest of the story, tears smearing a bit of the ink as the handwriting changed and Cassia, the woman Altair had loved, wrote of how Sirius’s cousin, Bellatrix’s mother had slaughtered Altair in the meadow where he and Cassia had gotten married. Destroyed half the meadow in doing so, but as Cassia put it, ‘the clearing gave way for new blossoms to grow’.
She wrote of how she mourned her love, how much more painful the moons were without him, but also of how she mustn't complain because she was blessed to have him for as long as she did. Cassia detailed a much sunnier picture of Altair than Sirius’s ancestor had written of himself, each passage twinged with a sadness she wouldn’t let herself truly feel, but also of the happiness she found in tending to her garden, putting the medicinal herbs she grew there to good use, and how she found closure in reading through the journals that Altair had written about her, and in finishing them for him.
Then, in a passage dated decades later, how her only regret on her deathbed was that she was not vengeful enough to kill Druella Black for the murder of her husband and the countless other cruelties Cassia had heard of her committing throughout her lifetime.
The last words she wrote in the journal were, ‘so few are lucky enough to be loved as I have, and though our time was cut short, I know I will die a happy woman.’
Sirius wanted so badly to be like Altair and Cassia, wanted to die happily after a lifetime of being loved, and he almost allowed himself to indulge in that fantasy before he remembered the monster he had become. He knew that even being near Remus meant jeopardizing his life, and unlike Altair, who Cassia described as good and disciplined, Sirius was a walking mistake. He was reckless, irresponsible, oblivious, and every bit the terrifying creature his mother had made him.
Part of him was glad to bear the curse so that Regulus didn’t have to, but Sirius held no delusions that he’d actually be able to escape his silent suffering. That he’d ever be able to do anything more than cower and dwell and pass out in his uncle’s summer house in New England, living off of subpar coffee and the occasional blood bags he allowed himself when he got a little too close to the actual brink of death.
Sirius stayed like that for almost a year, alive but not truly living, until his uncle Alphard returned from his travels on a warm and foggy morning waving his hands in the air in dismay and stating,
”Oh, this simply won’t do,” the moment he saw the state Sirius was in and hauled Sirius’s bony body up to shove him into a plush leather chair, all but force feeding him animal blood and imparting decades of vampire wisdom upon him. Decisively putting an end to Sirius’s rather pathetic year of moping around the house and passing out incrementally.
Eventually Alphard shoved Sirius into one of his partner, Bernard’s thick sailing sweaters after noticing how severely Sirius had been shivering, noting, “starving yourself will only make that worse,” before teaching him how to hunt small prey that afternoon then bringing him to a part of the library that Sirius had never seen before.
Sirius followed his uncle through a secret door into a room with a large hand painted globe in the middle and a glass panel ceiling that looked out onto the stars above, the night sky illuminating the two and reminding Sirius of the slight aching he felt in his newly put to use muscles.
The walls of the room were lined with shelves upon shelves of books, pushed in with no room for gaps in between them, a desk with some old leather chairs with blankets thrown over them, a telescope shoved hastily into one corner, and souvenirs from all of Alphard’s voyages scattered through the space, along with pictures of him and Bernard in a wide range of ugly outfits wherever there was room for them.
Alphard then reached for a pair of well kept leather bound journals with writing down the spines and offered them to Sirius, instructing him to read them thoroughly before returning to Remus and informing him that he would now be not only eating regularly but also training with Alphard every morning to control his vampire instincts if he wanted to continue hiding out there. And although Sirius felt more like a dead fish at the moment than any sort of man—or perhaps the world's most pathetic kind of monster—he agreed to his uncle's terms. Then, very reluctantly, to Alphard’s final one, that after Sirius had appropriately learned how to control himself in his uncle’s crash course in peaceful vampirism he would be obliged to return to his old life and the boyfriend that he had abandoned there.
The next two years, whilst agonizing, were slightly less miserable due to Alphard’s much needed intervention, though every day Sirius yearned for his Moony, and every night Sirius despised himself more for what he had done. When he did sleep it was fitful, and when his uncle forced him to eat he always found ways of consuming less than he was supposed to. Sirius’s guilt consumed him almost as much as his longing and by the time his uncle deemed him ready to return to his old life—rather stubbornly buying him a plane ticket and escorting him to the gate to make sure Sirius got on—Sirius found that dangerous as he was, his need to make things right with Remus was starting to overtake his all encompassing fear of hurting the person he cared about more than anyone else. At least enough to get on the plane. At least enough to try. And when he arrived in Wales and found that their anniversary was approaching, the rolling hills and pouring rain setting every part of Sirius alight with a feeling that he hadn’t been familiar with for years—with memories of he and Remus crashing into him like a freight train of ‘I-told-you-so’s’—Sirius knew that he owed it to the man he loved to at least offer him a proper apology.
To try again, because terrible as he was, living without Remus was unbearable. Letting Remus hurt when he could do something to help him was unbearable. So before Sirius could lose his nerve or think further about his decision he braved the punishing weather and all but sprinted down the familiar route to his Moony’s cottage. To the home that had once been his and the man that he had so foolishly lost, praying with everything in him that Remus wasn’t lost to him forever.
. . .
Present Day, Remus’s cottage in Wales:
Sirius had noticed something—a change in Remus since his birthday, when he had run upstairs to get changed and come down with a different sort of determination about him. An odd kind of imbalance in how his eyes lingered more heavily on Sirius’s hand movements. Scrutinized over his fingers as Sirius was fiddling with his rings—taking them off then sliding them back on again fairly mindlessly until he noticed how Remus was looking at him while he did it.
Like he was trying to decide something that Sirius wasn’t yet privy to, an all important question whose answer somehow lay in the twitching of Sirius’s fingers.
How Remus scanned Sirius more intently all over, gave him chills from the magnitude of it, the weight of Remus’s unshared puzzle he seemed to be silently solving, making Sirius wonder if it was something more than just lust. Then sure it was with his Moony so in his head and detrimentally focused. Even surer when the dislodged lingering of his gaze had continued for the days that followed. Subtly stayed put underneath all the usual fond and loving looks that Remus always gave him so Sirius had to actively scrutinize to see that it was still there.
And while to Sirius it always felt like the highest honor to be the subject of Remus’s gaze, there was part of it recently that felt… unnerving somehow. Urged Sirius to want him to find the answer he was looking for so Remus could go back to simply gazing at him fondly again. Made him want to find out what Remus was mulling over for himself so that he could quell his own curiosity as well as get his Moony back to his usually secure and steady self.
Part of Sirius wondered if the uneasiness was his fault. If Sirius setting up for Remus’s birthday had reminded him of all the times Sirius had gone way over the top, brought back old memories Remus didn’t particularly care to revisit. Or maybe he had burnt the toaster waffles as well as the bacon, made Remus eat them politely like he always would, never telling Sirius directly how bad the food was unless Sirius asked. Even then sugarcoating it, gulping down vastly disastrous meals without so much as a wince and saying, ‘just needed a bit of salt, Pads’.
Holding it in like Remus held everything in. Never one to outwardly share his troubles or his feelings if he didn’t absolutely have to. Only giving Sirius clues in his glances, the distracted way he leaned over to place a far too brief kiss on Sirius’s cheek that morning before moving away again.
Rumbled, “You look gorgeous, darling,” a forkful of waffles in his mouth that he swallowed down with a short hum and an appreciative nod before reminding him that, “you know you didn’t have to do this though. I would’ve been just as happy cookin’ for you so you didn’t have to get up so early.”
And it was automatic how the words flew out of Sirius’s mouth after that. The response of, “I wanted to do this, Moons. ‘Sides isn’t it you that’s always telling me that it’s okay to let myself be taken care of? It works the other way around too,” because fuck, why wouldn’t Remus just let himself be taken care of every once in a while?
But Sirius couldn’t find it within himself to be frustrated about it for too long when his Moony reached his hand across the table to meet Sirius’s, eyes warm and affectionate—like the fireplace when it was snowing outside, Sirius thought fleetingly. And instead of disputing the subject further as Remus usually would, ceded, “Hm, you might just be right about that one, love,” Remus’s thumb lingering over Sirius’s ring finger in a way that made Sirius forget to breathe then fill the silence with a nervous laughter he couldn’t find the source of.
“I’m usually right, Moons,” Sirius breathed a little unevenly, “you should listen to me more often.”
Remus let it go with a slight roll of his eyes and a low chuckle of, “I suppose we’re ignoring your long list of detentions and pranks gone wrong then, baby?”
Leaving Sirius to mutter “half of those were James,” only a bit petulantly before a loud and impatient knock sounded at their door. One that shook Sirius to his core as he recognized it the moment he heard it. He knew without even having to look out the window who it was. Could already picture the bony demanding knuckles that rapped at Remus’s door in vivid detail and Sirius let out a resigned sigh as he rose to answer them.
Glanced over to his Moony and reluctantly spoke, “I’ll deal with her,” before preparing to surrender his snippet of solace to the woman he knew was likely already scowling and tapping her foot impatiently on the patio outside. Even after the all years that had passed since the last time he had seen her, her mannerisms were so deeply ingrained in his mind that he hardly had to predict them. More uncomfortably familiar to him than he cared to admit.
Resigning himself to his doom, Sirius opened the door to a pair of harsh gray eyes uncanningly matching his own. To perfectly pinned up black hair and the poised elegance of a woman well aware of her lethal and aristocratic nature. Her high social standing, eminent in her every expression, entitlement practically seeping out of her poreless porcelain skin.
Walburga was nearly identical to him at first glance, sharing nearly all of Sirius’s features—the same narrow nose that curved slightly upwards at the end, high and sharp cheekbones, wavy black hair with not a strand out of place, and a delicate build that Sirius knew masked an unprecedented level of power.
Her chin held high and shoulders back with an obnoxious yet incredibly singular sort of grace, his mother was haughty and cruel but still indisputably beautiful. Viciously so.
Prim and polished in her perfectly tailored and likely incredibly expensive black dress, matching blazer and red soled stilettos. Impervious to the weather or anything else that she deemed unworthy of her as she acknowledged Sirius with visibly withheld curses under her tongue, her eyes devoid of any sort of fondness as she immediately took note of Remus behind him and spoke in French, unaware that Remus now spoke the language as well.
“I had heard that you were back from your folly in America,” each one of Walburga’s words were more disapproving than the last, “it is time for you to step into your role as heir,” she practically winced. Paused so briefly one could easily think they had imagined it, then with a complete void of emotion continued, “Regulus has… disappointed in that matter.”
“The same way father disappointed you?” Sirius narrowed his eyes towards his mother, all too familiar with the many ways one could disappoint Walburga Black but praying that his brother wasn’t actually in any danger. Although if whatever had happened warranted Walburga actually acknowledging his existence… Sirius’s blood ran cold.
“You will hear about his death in the papers. We have done what we could to keep the press controlled,” Walburga spoke as if every word was an inconvenience and Sirius’s heart sunk in his chest.
“His… death… How? What did you do to him?” Sirius couldn’t stop the feeling that the room was closing in on him. Couldn’t even process the possibility of Regulus’s death when he’d spent his entire life trying to save him. He thought he had by bearing the curse, letting himself be turned so Regulus didn’t have to be. Becoming enough of a disappointment that Regulus would always look flawless in comparison… if everything he had done still hadn’t saved his brother from his parents… Sirius suddenly couldn’t quite remember how to breathe.
“Honestly Sirius, you should be glad that you are being welcomed back at all,” Walburga turned her chin up in purposefully unveiled disgust, “to the centuries of tradition-”
“But that’s the thing, Maman, I’m not welcome, am I?” Sirius cut her off in a grief ridden spout of anger, French spitting out of him like fire. “Even now you only want me as heir because you have no other choice.” He hissed as he used all his strength to prevent tears from sprouting from his eyes. He would not allow his mother to see him display weakness. Years of vicious mind games had taught him better than that.
Sirius could see that his words pierced however, as Walburga’s lips tugged down in a nearly undetectable frown of displeasure. Half a second of impact on the woman, but it was something.
“When will you stop with this?” Walburga returned to her emotionless facade with ease, “you chose to neglect your duty. To throw away your privilege and ignore your responsibilities as heir. But you can not discard your lineage as you discard all else, Sirius.” Walburga’s words cut through Sirius’s layers of what he thought to be thicker skin he had built up over the years like a hot knife through butter. Precise, perfectly sharpened blades always hitting exactly where they were intended to. “You will always be a Black, and now you must act as one,” she continued sharply, “You may be a disappointment and a coward, but you are still Orion’s son.”
Orion’s son, Sirius noticed, not Walburga’s. Never his mother’s son. No, he had been her second choice from as far back as he could remember. The first pancake that had come out wonky and disobedient and wrong so they had thrown that one out and made another.
Orion had at least tried to shape Sirius into what he wanted him to be, to groom him for the role he was meant for—the role that was rightfully his in the first place. Not that Sirius had wanted it once he found out how awful his family really was, but a part of him had always been wounded by how quickly he was tossed aside and deemed unfit. Swiftly replaced as that role was given instead to Regulus, his mother at least willing to acknowledge him as one of her own. Admit that he was her son.
Not that Regulus had it easy either, forced to carry the burden that Sirius had left for him, Sirius never being good enough to fulfill it himself. But that was how it had always been. Sirius the mistake and Regulus the loyal heir, Walburga’s only true son.
Except that now the tables had turned. Now Walburga needed him. Was forced to accept that the position had always been Sirius’s birthright. And Sirius didn’t know why he cared. He didn’t want the position anyway. The state dinners with blood purists and corrupt council members, the too stiff suits and too stuck up people. He had never been proficient in all that anyway, Sirius always being scolded for being unable to stop himself from speaking his mind.
Good until he wasn’t as it was so easy to work a crowd. To dress well and look desirable and make pleasant conversation until someone brought up something about eliminating werewolves and turned Sirius into a loose cannon. A liability that punched dinner guests squarely in the nose with the proper stance that his Moony had taught him to make sure he broke bone. Remus had told him to ‘hold your hand like this, Pads, make sure to keep your thumb on the outside’ and made Sirius practice until he got it just right. Because ‘if you’re gonna be punching people, love, you might as well do it right.’ And later, ‘you have to be able to defend yourself’ as he examined Sirius’s fists to make sure he was curling them right.
And it was horrible because Sirius was good at first. Gave his father hope when Orion would parade him around a room, all smiles and practiced grace that Sirius didn’t even have to practice all that hard at, Orion almost approving of him in those moments, but then it would all go disastrously downhill in the blink of an eye.
Once Sirius was too loud, too honest. Too himself. Reggie was always better at that sort of thing, molding himself to fit perfectly into whatever box his parents had cut out for him. But now Regulus was dead after a lifetime of bending over backwards to please them and Walburga was relying on Sirius and practically groveling. Almost being cordial to him in front of his werewolf boyfriend instead of cursing them both out and worse.
Sirius had the upper hand here, and he wasn’t about to give it up easily. Her words stung just as badly as they ever did but Sirius scoffed anyway, feigned unaffected indifference just like Orion had taught him to.
“You forget that I left you years ago. I chose that too. And no amount of begging will get me to become your whipping boy again. Orion is dead. And the only way I’m his son is in our shared love of werewolf men. How we both chose to leave you for something far better.” His words actually managed to cut and Sirius could see it on his mother’s cold and ageless face, could see how the vivid reminder of Alexander had wounded Walburga’s pride and actually managed to make her falter.
How her hand flew up to smack Sirius across the face as she had so many times before and nearly made contact. But Remus caught it before she could. There in a blink of an eye to prevent her from laying a hand on him.
Furious and intolerant now, and Walburga was much the same, gasping in offense as she tore her hand away from Remus as if she had just been burned. Remus likely reminded her of Orion’s lover, Alexander in how unflinchingly he stood up to her.
Walburga’s deepest shame, and Sirius felt exponentially safer once he felt his Moony’s arm hook around him, still not okay yet though as he was forced to look back at his mother.
A man who was supposed to stay buried, her eyes practically screamed as they hardened to brutal and bitter stones. Cut across to Remus, a man who she clearly now wanted buried as well.
Another stain on Walburga’s precious reputation and Sirius hated how well he remembered how this worked. His mother’s mind was just as easy to read as his own after all those years of preaching. He despised how Walburga glared at his Moony. Like he was the scum of the earth, another tool being used to embarrass her, when Remus was everything good and kind Sirius had encountered, everything that Sirius loved.
But Remus gave it right back. Shot her a glare twice as menacing, growled and bared his teeth just to make fun of her, not one ounce scared of Walburga Black. He simply stepped forward and tightened his arm around Sirius’s waist, thumb running over his skin in smooth comforting gestures hidden from his mother’s view, gaze unflinching and grin predatorial as he lowered his voice to a level so dangerous it could only be perceived as a threat.
Taunted, “I haven’t eaten yet today, Walburga. The rumors are true, you know. Werewolves do get a taste for human flesh around the moons,” Remus spoke with a casual and almost playful sort of menace.
Sirius watched as his mother’s face paled at that, and would have laughed if he wasn’t still so shaken up by her mere presence there. But Remus did, a chuckle that turned fond when he looked at Sirius, not yet finished terrorizing Walburga as he practically purred, “and how far away is the next full moon, cariad?”
Sirius furrowed his brows together, still a little too paralyzed by the news of Regulus’s death and his mother's sudden reappearance to respond immediately. Then, more slowly than he would have liked, he mustered, “a week maybe?” To which Remus gave him a proud and reassuring squeeze out of his mother’s view.
“Mm, not far away at all then, is it?” His attention turned back towards Walburga, sweet words turning menacing and cruel again but remarkably casual nonetheless. Continued, “your sweetheart of a son typically keeps me well fed, but well, the storm’s made it a bit hard to find fresh meat, so I’ve been… hungry. I’d never harm a hair on Sirius’s head of course, but you on the other hand…” Remus grinned a little more savagely.
Walburga went stock still at that and Remus waited a long moment before cackling loudly and condescendingly in her face. Walburga looked as if she wanted to slice Remus apart but was just terrified enough not to and Remus let her stew easily.
Just when she regained enough of her composure to look like she was starting up again, opening her mouth for what would likely be a whole new round of curses, Remus bared his teeth to warn, “so much as come near Sirius again and I’ll eat you for lunch,” before slamming the door shut in her face.
There was a resonating silence after that before the sound of hurried heels clicking away and Remus gave Sirius a singular kiss to his forehead before stepping away from him, practically steaming in anger and muttering to himself as he attempted to control it.
Sirius was given a quick, “need a second, love,” before Remus was pacing and cursing under his breath at Walburga. Furiously whispered,
“That bitch thinks she can-” and “I should have fuckin’ eaten her-” as Remus clenched his fists and locked his jaw in what looked to be a painfully restrained sort of outrage until Remus stopped moving entirely and forced himself to take a long and heavy breath. He turned back to Sirius only after he had regained his control, rage slightly more subdued, and gestured for Sirius to come back into his arms with a rough, “sorry Pads,” accompanied seconds later with a somewhat smoother, “c’mere baby.”
. . .
Train to Hogwarts, Sixth Year:
Sirius often felt ridiculous coming back from break in the freshly pressed suit his parents made him wear to the train every year. He hated how starchy it was and all the looks he would get, always undoing the top few buttons as soon as he was out of the Black’s reach, ripping off his jacket and shiny shoes to change in the train bathroom as soon as he could.
To slide on the pair of jeans that Remus had bought him one year that never looked quite as good on him as they did on his best friend. Never quite as casually cool as Remus, worn out pairs of Levis being what he’d worn his whole life, but by far more comfortable than the itchy and overly formal outfits that Sirius’s parents always stuffed him in.
Sirius always felt more himself once he’d changed, digging out his leather jacket from the very bottom of his suitcase where it was hidden under layers of stifling school clothes. Pulling on his Docs and a large plethora of accessories he kept in the pockets of his jacket, unbinding the hair that he was growing out against his mother’s wishes and letting it fly free for the first time all summer.
Only then did he feel able to run into his usual compartment and meet his friends, already looking forward to showing his Moony his new piercings that he had gotten secretly with Regulus over the summer. Just studs in them now right next to his star and moon earrings. James would think they were cool too, always wanting piercings himself but squirming and whining too much when Sirius had tried to pierce his with an ice cube and a needle for him to successfully pierce both ears.
Sirius nearly skipped up the train’s hallways to his compartment, surprised when he arrived there to see Lily standing in the middle of it chatting up a storm with Remus and even throwing a few glances over in James’s direction. Practically tolerating James’s presence, James with an absolutely shit eating grin whenever she rolled her eyes or waved her hand dismissively at him.
Sirius burst through the doors just a little too loudly to get his friends' attention and didn’t even bother putting his luggage away before he flung himself onto his Moony’s lap, completely uncaring of Lily and James being so close by. He couldn’t help himself when Remus looked so good.
His Moony was stretched out on the seat in a bulky forest green sweater that brought out the green in his eyes, smile broad and easy, hair longer and shagger than it had been the last time Sirius had seen him, skin a few shades tanner, and he seemed taller too, more muscular. Though Sirius couldn’t fully tell with Remus still sitting down.
Remus chuckled easily and wholeheartedly as he caught Sirius with a steady arm that hooked around Sirius’s waist and pulled him into his side like he didn’t care much about onlookers either.
Laughed as he greeted, “good to see you too Pads,” before carrying on his conversation with Lily. Let Sirius wrap his arms around him and nuzzle into his side as he told an overwhelmingly dirty joke, letting his hand run placatingly up and down Sirius’s waist—a nonverbal ‘be patient’ as if Sirius had ever been patient once in his life.
As if Sirius hadn’t gone most of the summer without seeing him and was now severely Moony deprived. In desperate need of touches and kisses past a simple arm around him.
The train ride felt particularly longer than usual due to that, Sirius happy to catch up with his friends and watch James get spectacularly rejected time and time again until Lily saw Marlene and Mary and left, but absolutely tortured by Remus not pulling him away somewhere to snog his brains out. Having to wait until they had a few moments alone in their room to get any kisses.
Dragged up the stairs politely as if Sirius wouldn’t be getting any kisses at all until the door was shut and Sirius was just on the precipice of complaining about it when Remus pressed their lips together with a groan and a, “fuck, I missed you,” that sucked the air right out of lungs. Then finally, Remus slid his hand up Sirius’s back underneath his shirt and only seconds later whisked him away to the room of requirement with him.
. . .
Waiting for them in the room of requirement as Remus freed his lips from Sirius’s just long enough to enter was a plush king sized bed across from a crackling stone fireplace, and Sirius let himself be swept up by Remus’s arms and laid down on the bed, Remus tugging his shirt completely off then pulling away entirely, scanning Sirius’s torso intently. Checking for injuries, Sirius realized belatedly, so lost in his Moony filled haze that it took him a second to connect the dots.
Only when Remus was satisfied with his scan of Sirius’s body did he shove Sirius down on the bed and kiss up his neck, hot tongue leaving cool spit behind in its path to Sirius’s jaw, warm kisses being left along the way. Callused hands working their way down to Sirius’s cock, sensitive and throbbing against the fabric of his pants.
“Want you fucking covered in me,” Remus detached his lips from Sirius’s neck long enough to utter, Sirius only capable of whining slightly in return. He was hardly able to focus on anything else but that exact image as Remus stripped him of his remaining clothes in a series of swift and hasty motions that left Sirius bare and wanting.
“Please Moon-y,” Sirius moaned breathily as Remus took him in with an appreciative hum.
A lowly uttered, “so gorgeous Pads,” that Remus might have thought went unheard, a moment later cursing, “fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”
. . .
Present Day:
Remus:
Two weeks after Sirius’s vile excuse for a mother had visited—ones Remus had spent fussing over his star in an attempt to make up for the extensive damage Walburga had done as well as having a few mental breakdowns himself—Remus finally felt ready to do something he had been putting off for far too long. Something that had been keeping Remus inconveniently off kilter as he tried his best to take care of Sirius while he grieved his brother and made every effort to convince Remus that he was completely fine when he very clearly wasn’t.
If it was up to Sirius every one of his problems would be solved with sex and never talking about it, Remus huffed to himself as he made tea for the boy who was currently staring vacantly out the window on Remus’s shabby old couch. Watching the raindrops slide against the glass like Regulus used to and keeping Remus updated on which one won the little races he had set up for them.
It was cute, Remus thought briefly, and so very Sirius, that he had turned what his star had deemed such a boring activity into something more interesting, naming each one of the raindrops as if they were racehorses he was betting on to keep himself entertained. Remus commented indulgently back every once in a while to aid in that.
The kettle pot flew off and clanged rather harshly against the stovetop and jolted Remus back into reality.
“Every fucking time…” he muttered as he moved out of the way to avoid the scalding water that shot out and put the lid back on in just enough time to salvage the amount he needed for a few cups of tea. Remus smirked to himself at that, there, it still worked well enough. There was certainly no need to throw it out and get a new one as Sirius kept insisting. Besides, it wasn’t as if the thing was leaking that much. Only dripping a little…
Remus fished out one of Sirius’s favorite mugs that had a big cartoon sheep on it and poured him a generous portion of the tea he had prepared, made sure to toss in plenty of milk and sugar as Sirius liked—even though Remus thought this particular tea was better without it (at it’s best if paired with a hefty splash of whiskey…)—and grabbed a few biscuits to help soak it up before bringing it over to his solemn star and setting it on the wobbly coffee table beside him.
“There’s tea if you want it, love,” he offered as he kissed the top of Sirius’s head lightly before sitting down next to him, opening up his arms to allow himself to be made into furniture and gesturing to the tea he had set down. Sirius immediately took advantage of this opportunity and sat himself on Remus’s lap as he simultaneously snuggled into Remus’s chest. An adoring and sugar-sweet sort of smile overtaking his boy’s face when he was properly nuzzled into Remus’s warmth, Sirius gazing up at him as if Remus had offered him the moon itself instead of tea in a cartoon sheep mug.
Sirius dopey when he hooked his arms around Remus’s neck to say, “thanks Moons,” reached over for his tea then smiled even more brightly when he saw the mug it was in, gasping in excitement.
“You put it in my sheep mug!” Sirius exclaimed excitedly, grin wider than Remus had seen it in weeks over something Remus had thought to be relatively unordinary and simple.
“Yeah, Pads,” Remus donned a not nearly as brilliant smile himself, pecking Sirius once on the cheek just to keep his star smiling. To keep him away from the sorrow that had previously encompassed him so wholly for as long as he possibly could. “You gotta taste it though, not sure if I put in enough sugar to make anyone else throw up or not,” Remus gestured to the nearly overflowing teacup.
Sirius raised his brows with a hum before taking a slow sip of the tea Remus had made him, waited a moment before relaying his judgment, taking his time swallowing it to keep Remus on edge before he answered.
Warmly stating, “it’s just right, Moons,” giving Remus a smile just as sweet as his tea before finishing, “it always is.”
Remus chuckled at his star’s antics and leaned back slightly to allow Sirius to reposition himself against his chest so he could properly drink his tea and snuggle at the same time. The fire crackled and popped a little from across the room and Remus couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering yet again to the regretfully empty place on Sirius’s fingers that he planned on filling with a certain accessory of his own. The wolf roared inside him almost as it did when he glanced at Sirius’ bare neck around the full moons, feeling the urge to adorn it with something that was his. That showed that Sirius was his, as if it wasn’t evident enough by the starry eyed expressions Sirius gave him. The way he wrapped his arms around Remus as if he just had to get closer every time he was next to him, muttering ‘I love you’s like they were air Sirius breathed, as if Remus was, his sweet star breathing him in every morning and every night with a dedication that made all the planets align then combust from the sheer force of it.
An angel so ruthlessly in love with him that it made Remus himself forget how to breathe, made the wolf inside him preen with pride then growl at him urgently to claim him lest anyone else try to do the same. Lest Sirius ever forget that Remus loved him too, that he belonged to Remus just as much as Remus belonged to him and a ring would solidify that. Maybe tame the possessive urges that Remus somewhat failingly tried to tamp down, every moment with Sirius only fanning the flames even more.
Perhaps that materialistic dedication would be enough to finally get the wolf to settle within him, calm the monster that always asked greedily for more, get the wolf to see that Sirius was already his mate and the most important thing in his life and he didn’t need to ask for more. To claw against Remus’s chest rather painfully each night with the question of ‘why haven’t you done it yet?’ And the rather weak answer of Remus wanting it to be on his terms, not the wolf’s.
An excuse that sounded weaker and weaker with every day that passed with Sirius’s finger still unadorned by him. The question of what then Remus was waiting for, and the inability to answer it finally pushed him to do what he should have done the moment Sirius had taken his mark.
Remus should have given him forever in every way he wanted instead of just one, too cowardly to risk giving Sirius a reason to run when he should have seen that Sirius was far more steadfast than Remus had ever given him credit for. His impatient star had been so impressively patient when it came to waiting for what Remus had been so regretfully reluctant to give him, and Sirius shouldn’t have to be patient anymore.
Not when Remus had run out of excuses as he should have so much earlier. Not when layers below his deeply ingrained self loathing Remus knew that Sirius loved him with his monster. Loved the wolf so much that he didn’t see it as one, and even deeper below that knowledge was the reluctant admission that he could trust Sirius with the wolf that he had never trusted himself. Even if Remus himself could never learn to.
So after an especially long shower the next morning, one completely free of its usual filthy interruptions, Remus resolved to call Effie and his mother to renew their permission to propose to Sirius. His decision becoming even more resolute when his star wormed his way into the shower with him, playfully wiggling his brows at him to tease,
“You doing dirty things in there without me, Moons?” To which Remus let out a loud and unexpected cackle because, no, for once he hadn’t been, before he responded,
“Trying to catch me in the act, darlin’?” Sirius’s cheeks going bright red as he looked down to murmur,
“Maybe,” so adorably flustered and blushing for him like the lovely responsive thing he was and Remus granted him a warm and lingering kiss that Sirius absolutely melted into while both he and the wolf inside him decided, yeah, he wanted this forever.