Moving Memories
“Harry!” shouted a voice, “Put your pants on!”
A one year old stumbled and ran through the hallways of the apartment, giggling. He had keen green eyes, tan skin and messy hair that never behaved, no matter how much Remus tried to brush it.
Sirius scooped him up, his dark hair curling about his face. He tickled his godson, Harry giggled in the gurgly way that babies did.
“We’re going to be late.” Sirius said, tickling him still, “Yes we are, yes we are!”
Harry babbled, “No, Pads! No!”
Sirius sat them down on the floor. Harry settled in his arms, playing with the silver necklaces Sirius wore. Sirius looked around the empty room. Boxes were packed and taped up. Morning sunlight filtered through the windows.
The flat had been a sanctuary during the Wizarding War. Sirius remembered how elated and surprised Remus had been when he presented keys to their new small flat. They needed a permanent place after school when Sirius had outgrown his bedroom in Fleamont and Euphemia Potter’s house. He had found a small flat for sale, just on the outskirts of Manchester which seemed perfect for him and his Moony since Remus was finishing up a Muggle education at Manchester University.
When the Wizarding War hit them deeply, leaving the flat always half empty because of their Order missions, the flat had become a reminder of better times and hopefully a domestic future for the both of them. Sirius had lamented the nights alone, Remus gone running with the wolves (quite literally, many of his missions involved a pack of werewolves Dumbledore wanted Remus to keep an eye on). After the deaths of James and Lily, the off white walls were the only thing that seemed to stay the same (granted, now they had been graffitied by Harry and Iris). Sirius didn’t want to admit it, but he was going to miss the flat - landlord’s paint job and all.
“Padfoot,” Called a voice from deeper in the house, “Do you know where I put my wand?”
“No idea.” Sirius said. He set Harry down and led him by his hand into the rest of the house.
They entered the kitchen where Remus was rummaging through some of the boxes.
“Merlin’s pants!” Remus cursed, he sighed, leaning on the box.
Sirius smiled at his fiancé. Matching gold rings, just a simple polished band, on both their ring fingers. Remus pulled his brown and yellow jumper off, huffing. He closed his eyes, sighing.
“Tired, Moony?”
“Mm.”
They had been packing all morning, expecting to move into their new house sometime later that day. Sirius was exhausted, having to pack boxes of belongings - and then unpacking them after Harry demanded his favourite toy (a deer shaped teddy) and then repacking them after Iris revealed her stash of toys in the floorboards (seriously, how did they get there?). There was also an incident where Iris had tricked Harry into one of the boxes and tried to pack him up. Key word; tried. Harry was luckily, not packed with the crockery.
Remus was equally as tired, and more so with the full moon looming the next week. Dark circles befouled his usually placid face. It was a crime, in Sirius’ opinion, for a face so beautiful to look so tired .
Sirius gave Remus a peck on the cheek, which made the other man smile. The movers would be here at 2:30. All they needed to do now was leave for Lugwig Village. Sirius sat down on the plastic wrapped couch.
Remus shooed him off the couch, “Don’t ruin it.”
Sirius held his hands up, standing up, “Don’t shoot.”
Remus picked up the tape roller and taped up the last box. Sirius sat back down on the couch. Remus sighed, “Where’s Iris?”
“I don’t got Scooby Doo, babe.” Sirius looked around, hands on hips. Harry glanced up at him and copied the pose.
“Iris!” Remus called, “The movers will be here soon.”
“I’m here, Uncle.” chirped a happy voice.
“Where?” Sirius swung his head around.
“Here!” Iris said again.
The voices came from the pile of boxes next to them. There were dozens of boxes. The two men looked at each other.
“Did you-”
“No. Did you?”
Sirius rushed to the boxes. He pulled them out so that the pile tumbled to the floor.
“Sirius!” Remus cried. He joined him, they heaved out box after box.
“Iris?” Sirius said, opening a large box.
“Don’t be ridiculous! She can’t fit in there!” Remus said, pulling out another box. The pile was dismantled, Sirius ripped open another box.
“Don’t worry, baby, we’re coming!” Sirius cried.
There was a giggle.
The two men paused and turned around. Iris stood next to Harry, a Zonkos Voice Thrower in her hand. She laughed. Harry looked at her and laughed too, sitting plop on the ground.
Sirius heaved a sigh, “Good Merlin, Iris. Who gave you that?”
“George.” Iris said.
“Of course.” Remus said. He stood and took it out of her hands, she gave a guilty smile. He stared at the mess muttering, “Where’s my wand when you need it?”
“Here.” said Iris, holding up his cypress wand. When he looked at her sceptically she said, “Found it on the floor. Near the kitchen.”
“Thanks, lovey.” Remus said. He couldn’t stay mad at her, not with those shiny silver eyes. He waved his wand at the mess, “Reparo.”
–
By two o’clock the household was ready to move. Remus and Iris were travelling by Floo powder in a friendly Wizard neighbour’s house nearby. Harry was too little for Floo and instead joined Sirius in his bike along with a bag of things that couldn’t fit in boxes. Sirius had suggested to Remus to use Wizarding packing boxes that were the same physical size as Muggle boxes but magically expanded. Remus had argued that they were trying to save money (since the down payment of the house had left a significant dent in their savings and magically expanded boxes were expensive if they were any good and reliable) and that the moving company they hired came with free boxes. Why Remus wanted to do things the Muggle way was completely unknown to Sirius who had grown up using magic for almost everything. Sirius learned it wasn’t really any point to argue with Remus, not when he still had those honey gold eyes.
Sirius secured the bag of extra things to the back of his bike. He checked for Muggles and then cast a quick enchantment that would protect them on their flight.
“Ready, Harry?” Sirius asked.
Harry was strapped in the passenger cart on the side. He nodded, pulling the aviator’s hat down, the goggles wonkily over his eyes.
Soon they were flying over the clouds, dipping in and out periodically to check their direction. Harry laughed, putting his hand out to touch the feather soft tufts of clouds. The British countryside ran underneath them. They sailed over small towns and stretches of woodlands.
Sirius remembered the day he had brought the motorcycle. He had been a little (ok, a lot) obsessed with them since… Peter brought him a Muggle motorcycle magazine to piss of his parents.
Sirius remembered going to the shop with James and picking out a sleek 1959 triumph Bonneville t120. He remembered tinkering with it for ages with Arthur Weasley in the days before the war, trying to get it to fly. They had finally done it and the sensation of flying, the thrill and the euphoria was the same even years later.
Sirius checked the speedometer. They were doing ok for time, the sun still glowing in the vast blue sky. He looked down to see Harry get a faceful of clouds. Sirius laughed at his face. Sirius allowed himself a loop or two and continued speeding through the endless skyscape.
When he dipped down a half hour later, they finally spotted a red brick house, backing into a forest and next to a small village. Smoke curled from the chimney, welcoming them home.