Rule #13

Sirius has had the great honor of watching Lily Evans grow up. From girl to woman, brat to bitch, pal to soulmate, Lily has changed in countless ways, and not just physically (although her tits have become impressively big). She’s become less bossy and more despotic—skillfully political about her need for control—and while her principles are just as staunch as her eleven-year-old self, today her main concern is the well-being of children instead of proving to the world that unicorns are real. 

Of course, Sirius has changed too, a former punk turned tasteful rebel, who blows off steam in angsty anthems rather than elaborate pranks. And like Lily, the passage of time, the scars of the past, have molded him into something steadfast and stubborn. Sirius will never touch a drink or drug again. 

There’s one thing, however, that has stayed true for both of them, a childish quirk that neither can outgrow: a knack for petulant, pouting, brooding. 

All throughout the morning’s staff meeting, Lily’s expression is as flat as her voice as if Wednesday Adams herself was giving camp announcements. Sirius and Peter share many worried looks while James sits near the front, bobbing his legs like he’s ready to dance an Irish jig. Of all people, it’s Regulus who leans over and whispers something calming, and James nods, taking a slow breath. 

Sirius, however, does not bother breathing. They wait until the meeting finishes, the counselors stalking off to start on their cabin Rooster Calls and then, promptly, ambushes Lily. 

“Start talking.”

Lily ignores Sirius and slides her papers into her backpack, the Lodge’s wood echoing her sharp huffs. 

“Firefly.” Peter steps forward. “What is it?”

Sirius looks back to find James and Regulus with their backs against the Lodge doors so that no one else comes in. A real intervention. 

“You all have to go wake up your campers,” Lily practically growls. “And Peter, I told you I needed the cables checked on the climbing wall.”

“Already done.”

Lily’s face softens for a second, then she turns her back on Peter. “Good.”

“Lily, I’m the one that gets to brood, remember our policy?” Sirius sighs. “Only one at a time, otherwise James will have a heart attack.”

James grunts from the other side of the room. 

She yanks on her backpack and looks at the four of them with an unimpressed, empty stare. “Get to work.”

Regulus crosses the Lodge, his boots clipping on the wooden floor, and stops right in front of Lily. A whole conversation takes place in the silence, and Sirius watches them, amazed and a little frightened. Ever since they formally met at a Thanksgiving years ago, Regulus and Lily have shared an unspoken, uncommon bond—the kind of friendship where they gang up on Sirius at the dinner table, where they send each other cryptic texts with quotes from dead poets, where they roll their eyes at James in sync, like creepy twins. 

“Just pick one of us,” Regulus eventually ends the glare-off. 

“Fine.” Lily’s eye twitches. “But it won’t be you.”

“Fine.”

Lily’s lips begin to curl up and then she snaps her head to Sirius. “You stay, everyone else out.”

James turns and leaves, his posture utterly morose, but Regulus catches up with him and says something that makes him chuckle. Later, Sirius will pick apart Reggie’s smile, the way he tracks James’s moods like a goddamn mood ring, but for now, Sirius focuses on Firefly.

“I’ll handle your Rooster Call.” Peter nods to Sirius on his way out. 

Sirius smiles in thanks, then steels himself to face Lily.

Her red hair is braided back down her spine like a Valkyrie, and Sirius is sure that if she had a few daggers in her hand, she’d throw a couple at the wall, maybe even clip Sirius in the process. 

Luckily, she’s unarmed. Save for her tongue.

“This is all your fault.” Lily’s bright green eyes squint in anger. “You got this idea in my head that it’s okay to just kiss someone and run away—and you know how I feel about people storming off in the middle of conversations or arguments or important fucking things, and yet that’s exactly what I did because my best friend Sirius fucking Black taught me to. So fuck you, Sirius. Fuck. You.”

Sirius wants to clap. He’s the one known for sensational run-on sentences, and yet, today, it’s Lily raising her voice, swearing right and left, deflecting like a pro. God, she’s a fucking star!

“You’re right, Firefly, of course,” Sirius decides to say instead of clapping. “I’m the one to blame.”

Lily’s squint doesn’t budge. “Glad you agree.”

“Just one question?”

“What,” she snaps. 

“Was it good?” Sirius tilts their head. “Kissing Mary, I mean.”

Lily’s jaw drops, her face swimming with shock, shame, then back to anger. “I have no idea what—” 

Sirius laughs. 

“Fuck you.”

“Not an answer, Firefly.”

She throws up her hands, tugging on her French braid to the point that Sirius worries her hair might just rip off. 

“Come on,” Sirius groans. “Tell me! I told you about Remus, not to mention literally everyone else I’ve kissed in my entire life.”

“Fine. It was good,” Lily mumbles, practically spitting. 

“Wow, that’s not the rave review I wanted. I mean after all these months, I expected some raunchy hate-sex.”

“We did not,” Lily lowers her voice, “have sex.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Fuck you.”

Sirius smirks. “So you’ve said. Now can you answer my question, please?”

Lily shoves past Sirius and marches to the door, but Sirius catches the zipper of her backpack and holds her in place. “I’m not going to judge, you know that Firefly, and clearly you’re upset. Lay it on me.”

It takes a few seconds, but then Lily’s shoulders slump. She turns around slowly and Sirius’s chest tightens at the exhaustion written across her face. “It was a mistake.”

“Was it?”

“I don’t even like her,” Lily tries again. 

“Is that true?”

It’s a good sign that Lily takes a second to actually think about it instead of screaming profanities at Sirius. It’s not a good sign that her eyes well with tears and she bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

Sirius feels the honesty in her words and pulls her into a hug. They’ve watched Lily and Mary do this dance for two summers now, pretending to be absolute enemies as an excuse to obsess over each other. Half the staff can see it—besides James, but his obliviousness is part of his charm. What Sirius hasn’t been able to understand is why Mary and Lily won’t give in. It’s not like with him and Remus, where one is in love and the other is in lust—Mary and Lily could actually build something together. They could try. 

It kills Sirius that they actually have a shot and they won’t fucking take it. 

“What’s scaring you, Lils?” Sirius whispers into her hair. 

“I feel…a lot when I’m around her. And I’m worried that if I let myself, you know, I’ll get in too deep.”

Sirius holds her tighter. “And you don’t want something deep?”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.” Lily breathes into Sirius’s tie-dye shirt. 

“Are you referencing Dumbledore’s rules?”

“Not just that.” Lily pulls back, scrubbing her cheeks. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship since…”

“James, I know.”

Lily smiles sadly. “And you know how that ended.”

Though Sirius was there all throughout the pregnancy, the birth, the post-partum depression that nearly made Lily fail high school, he would never truly understand James and Lily’s feelings on the matter, the pain and guilt they’ve held onto all these years. Sirius can see it follow Lily around like a dark cloud, can see the shadows that spoil her happiness, and not even bright and sunny James can dispel them. 

“There’s nothing wrong in trying again.”

Lily exhales. “Maybe. But I don’t know if I’m ready.”

There isn’t anything Sirius can say to that, so she pulls Lily in for another hug, and they hold onto each other until breakfast begins, and reality forces them apart. 

******

While Sirius isn’t expecting their cabin to be thrilled about Lily and Mary’s news, she doesn’t expect his campers to start a goddamn riot at breakfast. Luna and Neville beg Sirius not to split their cabin apart while Ron and Hermione take a different tactic and threaten them. If he weren’t the victim, Sirius would be proud. 

“It’s not anything to be upset about, cubs,” Sirius assures them. “The Sorting Hat is just a way for you all to meet other campers, maybe get a new counselor, and make some new memories.”

Hermione scoffs. “But I don’t want Regulus. You’re the best counselor at Hogwarts.”

“Why thank you,” Sirius says with a smirk. “But my brother is fantastic, actually, you two have a lot in common—”

Ron and Neville cut Sirius off, but they’re both speaking too quickly for anyone to understand. 

Of course, Sirius knows which of her campers will be switched with which of Regulus’s—Lily and Mary consulted all the counselors on the new cabin set up the day before. Sirius quite likes the idea, actually, given the Slytherin and Gryffindor animosity, but she sympathizes with their campers. If Sirius were split off from the Marauders, he’d raise hell. 

“I think it could be fun,” Harry interrupts Ron and Neville. 

They all turn to look at Harry eating his oatmeal with a relaxed smile.

“That’s because you and Draco are—are—” Ron stutters, freckled face scrunched up in a knot. “In love!”

Harry’s eyes narrow, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Alright, Ron, there’s no need to—”

“No, if Harry wants to be a house traitor and be all friendly with the Slytherins, then fine. He can go!” Ron crosses his arms and pouts at his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. 

Sirius sighs. “The Sorting Hat actually chooses for you guys, so if Harry switches cabins, it’s not him leaving you, Ron, okay? I think you should apologize for talking to your friend like that.”

Ron doesn’t say anything and Sirius gives up for now, knowing that the kid has to cool off. 

It’s a bad omen for what’s to come, and by the time Sirius has their cabin all lined up in the campfire circle for the sorting ceremony, Ron and Harry won’t even look at each other. Sirius remembers a time when she and James got into a big fight, but that lasted all of three hours before they went running to each other and cried through apologies. They can only hope that Harry and Ron will be the same. 

“Alright, campers!” Mary shouts, jumping onto a tree stump. “As your counselors told you, we have a magical ceremony in store for you today.”

Sirius looks around and gauges the campers’ reactions—about half of them look curious, and the other half are frowning, or not paying attention. Much to Sirius’ amusement, Barty’s in the latter category, though his cabin is all leaning forward with anxious expressions. 

“This is the legendary Sorting Hat!” Mary holds up a black pointed hat covered in Pandora’s signature glitter, the kind that rubs off and doesn’t leave for weeks. “This magical artifact will tell us which House you belong in: Gryffindor the brave or Slytherin the clever. Some of you won’t switch, and some of you will. Either way, you all will end up where you belong.”

Mary hops off the stump and shares a quick glance with Lily. Both of them look away at once. 

Sirius is impressed, but not surprised when Lily’s voice is bright and steady as she calls off campers' names, starting from oldest to youngest. Fred and George are sorted in the same house, Gryffindor, and Sirius smirks at Gilderoy's wince. Just last week, Sirius and James gifted the Weasley twins with an old camp map the Marauders made, so as to unofficially support the pranking tradition, and continue to make Gilderoy’s life a living hell. 

James and Pandora’s cabins end up switching three campers each, though none of them look particularly bothered, likely because both counselors are notoriously popular. All the while, Luna doodles on her arm, and Hermione and Neville murmur House predictions. Harry and Ron, unfortunately, continue their strained silence. 

“Time for the Cabin 3s,” Lily calls. “Ron Weasley.”

Sirius watches Harry’s face carefully as Ron is sorted into Gryffindor—he doesn’t seem surprised. After Neville, who also stays, Hermione steps forward. She lifts her chin and crosses the circle like a princess, smoothing out her denim shorts as she sits on the stump’s edge. 

Mary leans towards the hat as if listening to it speak, then straightens. “Slytherin!” 

Harry’s eyes widen and turns to look at Slytherin Cabin 3, meeting Draco’s stare. Then Luna skips up, waving at her mom sitting on the side, and sits criss-crossed on the tree stump. “I’m going to be Gryffindor, aren’t I?” she asks the hat. 

A few moments later, Mary barely hides a smirk when she yells, “Gryffindor!”

“Thought so.” Luna nods. “I’m super brave.”

Sirius high-fives her as she rejoins Ron and Neville. 

“Harry Dursley,” Lily calls. 

It seems like the whole camp tenses, though it’s really just Sirius’s cabin. Or maybe it’s just Sirius. After all, she knows what’s coming.

Harry’s eyes dart from Draco to Lily to Sirius as he walks forward. Then he looks at James, who gives him a thumb-up, and he sighs, sitting on the stump. 

The hat sits on him for less than a second before Mary shouts, “Slytherin!”

It’s almost comical how similar Regulus and Draco’s faces look then: a smirk with a dash of satisfaction as if they knew this was coming. Regulus did, of course, but not Draco. Though the kid is so sneaky that Sirius wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow figured it out. 

Draco’s a lot like his mom that way, too clever for his own good. 

When Narcissa showed up for parents’ weekend, Sirius was determined not to engage, intending to stay true to Regulus’s plan and keep far, far away. 

Their brother, evidently, had other plans. 

It turned out that Regulus had asked Narcissa in Draco’s parent letter if the three of them could talk, and to Sirius’s great surprise, Narcissa agreed. The same woman who once told Sirius that their manners were akin to a farm dog with fleas! Which, you know, not far off, but still!

Sirius hadn’t known what the word awkward meant until she and Regulus sat across from their estranged cousin in Pandora’s craft house. 

But after the cold pleasantries were exchanged, and Narcissa opened up about her divorce, Sirius relaxed. After all this time, it turns out Narcissa is queer. Another black sheep of the Blacks! A fellow wrongdoer and delinquent, at least in the eyes of their great, impressive bloodline. 

Even if it took Narcissa a while to figure it out, Sirius is beyond elated that she did, that she found the courage to leave her husband and start a new life not just for her, but also for Draco. 

It was unexpectedly healing, sitting down with Narcissa and not wanting to pull out her hair. In fact, it was…nice. Sirius didn’t think that he would ever feel comfortable around their family—besides Regulus and Andy—but Narcissa surprised her. Pleasantly. 

Regulus even gave Narcissa Andy’s contact information, with her permission, so the sisters could reconnect. And then Sirius and Regulus gave her theirs. 

An olive branch. A symbol of trust that hopefully, Narcissa won’t snap in half. 

The ache that Sirius has always associated with family, the bigoted sort, sits in their throat when Draco struts up to the stump and waits for Mary to call Slytherin. Sirius wants Draco to know, Draco should get to know, but Narcissa had been clear that now isn’t the time. 

There was a promise hidden in her words that Sirius didn’t miss—of course they didn’t, Sirius is the queen of spoken subtext—a promise that one day, Narcissa would tell Draco who Sirius and Regulus are. 

One day. 

But for now, Sirius bites back a smile and winks at Regulus when Draco is sorted into Slytherin. Draco returns to his cabin and sits beside Harry, their shoulders and knees touching. The pair whisper back and forth as Blaise and Millie are sorted in Gryffindor, and though Sirius will miss Harry sorely, she knows this is the right call. 

Harry’s grin is as bright as James’ was the first summer he finished the Azkaban rope course. It throws Sirius under a wave of nostalgia, watching that kid laugh. 

Though Gryffindor Cabin 3 is not doing nearly as well as their Slytherin match. Ron refuses to sit by either Blaise and Millie and Neville is stammering a mess, but thankfully, Luna holds the group together, drawing little lions on her new cabin-mates’ wrists for good luck. 

There’s no mistaking the glare Ron shoots Harry and Hermione’s way as Sirius shuffles the cabin away from the campfire circle. He’s the epitome of a grumpy cartoon when Harry and Hermione pack their things and hike up the hill to Slytherin, and he won’t even meet Sirius’s eyes as she gives the usual introductions. 

“Okay, there’s one thing I have to say before we start our day,” Sirius tells Blaise and Millie, both seated beside Luna and Neville respectively. Ron, on the other hand, refuses to sit, his head bowed like he’s holding back tears. 

Sirius waits for Ron to look up, and when he does, they smile softly. “I love you all. No matter what.”

Blaise's eyes widen comically, while Millie just tilts her head. 

Ever since Sirius became a counselor, she’s made sure that his campers know they are loved unconditionally—that their cabin is a safe place, and Sirius has their backs even on the bad days, especially on the worst ones. Because it’s possible that back home, they don’t get that limitless love. It’s possible that they might not feel much love at all. 

Sirius would know. 

“Yep, I love you tons and pounds or whatever metric you want to use,” Sirius says. “And I know it’s going to be an adjustment for you, Blaise and Millie, switching cabins and counselors is no easy feat, but I’m here for you, and so are your cabinmates.”

Millie nods but Blaise shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m a Gryffindor.”

“I know, amazing, right?” Neville claps his hands. “It’s nice to be told I’m brave.” 

Blaise gives Neville a once-over. “I don’t like you.”

Neville shrinks back and Sirius cuts in, “What’s not to like about Neville? Come on, that’s no way to start cabin camaraderie.”

Blaise shrugs. “Draco swore a blood oath to always loathe Neville.”

Neville sputters, “But—but—I haven’t done anything!”

“Your mom is dating his mom and that’s reason enough,” Blaise says primly. 

Sirius’s eyes bounce between the two campers, for once, speechless. 

******

Regulus’s cabin, it turns out, is not having the same difficulties as Sirius’s, which is fucking unfair. In fact, when Sirius corners her brother on their shared break, Regulus merely shrugs.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Regulus wraps a hand around his aerial silk and pulls himself up, climbing like a graceful monkey, the bastard. “Hermione and Harry are adjusting to my cabin quite well.”

“Good for you.” Sirius sits into the knot she made in their silk, swinging back and forth. Unlike Regulus, Sirius lacks any upper-body strength, so she sticks to the easy stuff, and naturally, looks better doing it. 

“I can talk to Draco about the Blaise and Neville thing, but I usually never get anywhere with him,” Regulus says, still climbing. 

“Talk to him in front of Harry, he’ll listen to him.”

Regulus peers down at Sirius. “Not a bad idea. I’m shocked.”

“Shut up.”

“So how was Lily this morning?” Regulus says as he wraps his feet around the silks. “Did she claw your face off?” 

“Almost.” Sirius leans their head back and sighs. Though Lily put on a good show in front of the campers, it’s obvious to anyone who knows her that she’s thoroughly upset. Mary has noticed too—she seems to notice a lot of things when it comes to Lily. 

“James is beyond anxious, I’m fairly certain he’s going to corner Lily and perform a self-choreographed jazz routine to make her feel better.”

Sirius snorts. “Wait, are you serious?”

Regulus spins upside down. “No, that's you.”

Sirius throws her head back and cackles, pushing his foot on the floor to spin their silk around. “Speaking of James…”

Regulus rolls down the aerial silk and hits a pose that looks like a cross between Peter Pan and Jesus. 

“You two are getting really close.”

“Are you jealous again?”

Sirius scoffs. “Course not.” A beat then. “Ok, maybe a little.”

“We both still love you, unfortunately.” Regulus grunts and pulls himself up. 

“I’ve got a Pass Question for you.”

Regulus freezes, stopping his ascent. 

Ever since they were shoved into the foster system, they’ve used Pass Questions whenever one of them needs to ask something potentially intrusive, potentially unwelcome—it was meant to protect their fragile relationship in the wake of Alphard’s death, to salvage any scrap of privacy they had amidst the ever watching eyes of foster parents and social workers. It was meant to keep them together.

Thanks to Sirius, that didn’t happen. 

But that was then and this is now, and while neither of them has asked a Pass Question in years, Sirius knows this is a sensitive topic. So sensitive that Sirius expects Regulus to give a hard, hard pass to her question. 

“You said you were looking to date,” Sirius starts. “Were you hoping to date anyone specifically?”

Regulus’s face is conveniently tucked in the silks when he says, “Correct.”

Sirius is so surprised that Reggie even answers that she takes a minute. Then they summon the courage to ask: “Is it James?”

A long pause, until: “Correct.”

Regulus slides down the silk and lands on the blue mat with a tired expression. “Took you forever to notice.”

Sirius guffaws. “What?”

“I haven’t exactly been subtle. In fact, I’ve been going out of my way to be direct.”

“Well, have you asked James out?”

“No.”

“Then that’s not direct.”

Regulus tilts his head. “So, what, you’re okay with this?”

Sirius opens her mouth to say something supportive and sassy and sly, then pauses. Are they okay with it? He’s still trying to wrap her head around Regulus wanting to date at all—for years Sirius had assumed that Reggie was ace and aro. 

Of course, Regulus didn’t say those exact words, but Regulus isn’t as verbose as Sirius, among other dazzling qualities. 

Case in point: When Sirius came out as agender, she organized an entire flashmob, featuring sequined ballgowns and an electric guitar solo, while Alphard and Regulus were having afternoon tea. 

Regulus, on the other hand, just started talking about himself in the third person using the gendered language and name he preferred, and Sirius and Alphard quickly caught on. 

So Sirius had assumed it would be the same with Regulus’ sexuality—a part of him not to be announced or dramatized, but accepted nonetheless. Never once had Regulus expressed interest in anyone romantically or, as far as Sirius knew, sexually. 

And yet now, not only was he ready to date, he wanted to date James. Sirius’s Prongs! 

If it weren’t for how goddamn sweet Regulus has been to James, and then intermittently, extremely mean, Sirius wouldn’t bat an eye—but he knows their brother, Sirius could tell that something has been up with Reggie. 

But really, James?!

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard,” Regulus deadpans in Sirius’ silence. 

“Wait—hey.” Sirius hauls themself out of the aerial silk cocoon. “I’m not upset or anything I’m just surprised, you know? You never talked to me about this and you tell me everything so—”

Regulus flips upside down. “I do not tell you everything.”

“Well, now you’ve hurt me.”

Regulus stretches his legs in an upside-down middle splits, the silks spinning him slowly in a circle, but his breath is even, voice clear. “You don’t have to worry about me and James. It’s not going to happen.”

“Not if you don’t ask him out.”

Regulus tucks in his legs and hoists himself back up. “I don’t remember asking you for advice.”

“I give great dating advice, I’ll have you know. And now you finally have a use for it.”

“Mm, yes, not telling your childhood crush that you were once best friends, but instead kissing him and running away—that right there is sound advice.”

Sirius huffs. “I should never have told you about that.”

“How about this, if you tell Remus that you have a shared history, I’ll ask James out.” Regulus’ smirk is victorious like he knows Sirius won’t do it. Which only makes Sirius really want to do it.

“The Marauders agreed that it’s for the best not to tell Remus, he doesn’t want to remember.” Sirius doesn’t mean to sound so much like a politician, a diplomatic liar hiding her despair and pain, but that’s how it comes out. That’s how he’s coping, because, fuck, Sirius needs to cope. 

Even just the thought of Remus—Moony—slices Sirius’ chest in two, as if their body is ripping apart at the seams, rioting against the fact that life will have to go on without…him.

Regulus spreads the aerial silks and dangles between them like a fallen angel. “You’re all lying to Remus and when he inevitably figures out that he went to Hogwarts, he’s going to be pissed.”

“I’m not telling him,” Sirius repeats. “Actually, I’m not talking to him at all. It’s for the best if we stay away from each other.” Oh, she almost sounds convincing then, just a dash more of antipathy and a pinch more self-righteousness, and then even Regulus will believe Sirius. 

But Reggie doesn’t believe them yet. 

Slowly, Regulus slides down the silks, stopping himself a few feet from the ground so he’s hanging just above Sirius’s eye level, the smug asshole. 

“You love him,” Regulus states the obvious. 

“Yes.”

“Then stop being an idiot for once in your life.”

“No.”

Regulus hangs his head. “Of course not. Guess I just have to do everything myself.”

“What does that mean—” Sirius begins just as Regulus slips out of the silks and yelps, his ankle twisting to the side. 

“Oh, shit, Reg—what is it? Did you snap it—please tell me you didn’t snap it—”

Regulus winces, pulling his leg towards him with sharp breaths. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Sirius waves her hands around the ankle frantically.

“I definitely twisted it. Maybe a sprain.”

“Ok. This is fine. You’ll be fine—right?” 

“Sirius.” Regulus scowls. “Breathe.”

She does, and gulps down air quickly. 

“Now help me to the Nurse’s Cabin.”

Sirius does this as well, not stopping to think before they throw Regulus onto her back and run across camp. Regulus grumbles when the campers shout and laugh at Sirius carrying Regulus piggy-back, but Sirius is too focused on Regulus—inpain—to notice.

He stomps up the creaky steps and throws the door open. 

“Remus! Remus, I need you.”

Regulus rolls his eyes once he gets down from Sirius’s back. “No, actually, I need you, Remus.”

Remus turns from his position on the couch, a book open in his lap, and Sirius feels the zap of Remus’s attention course through her, peel and squeeze her like a lemon, sour and acidic and strong. 

God, make me into fucking lemonade, Moony, Sirius chants in their mind. Pour some sugar over me and drink every last drop. 

“What the hell happened?”

The sound of Remus’s worried voice snaps Sirius back into reality. 

“My ankle—” Regulus moves to walk and grunts, Sirius catching his weight. 

She picks their brother up again and hauls him into the patient’s room, setting him on the bed covered with a paper sheet.

Remus moves quickly and efficiently, and Sirius stands in the corner, stunned, as Remus rolls up the hem of Regulus’s pants and gently moves his foot every which way. Even his voice is calm, but also confident, and self-assured, and fuck, hot. This is what he does in the ER—handles crises, saves lives, ends emergencies. 

He’s a hero, Remus is a fucking hero, and all Sirius can do is write some lyrics and strum some guitar strings.

But she can hold Regulus’s hand. At the very least, Sirius can be a good sibling. 

“I think it’s just a twist,” Remus says after a few minutes. He sets Regulus’s foot down, eyes trailing on the deep scar across the top of his foot. 

“Car accident,” Regulus tells him even though Remus didn’t ask. “A piece of the car door sliced me open.”

Sirius squeezes Regulus’s hand and looks anywhere else. That scar holds all the ancient memories of Walburga and Orion slamming into concrete, Regulus and Sirius too young, too scared to die. Or at least that’s what Sirius thought when they dragged Reggie through the warped metal and onto the road, away from the fire, away from the bodies. 

“Me too.” Remus pulls down the collar of his shirt, a thick scar across his collarbones. “Got it when I was eighteen. As well as a healthy dose of amnesia.”

“You were eighteen when you lost your memory?” Sirius finds themself asking. 

Remus turns to look at her and Sirius stops breathing. 

Zapzapzapzapzap. Zappppppp. 

They haven’t so much as looked at each other since they kissed—it’s been days of Sirius avoiding Remus in the dining area, holding classes far from the Nurse’s Cabin, and trying to forget the feeling of Remus. 

Trying to forget as easily as Remus. And failing. 

“Yeah, I was eighteen,” is all Remus says. 

That left three years between the last summer of Hogwarts and his accident, Sirius does the math. Three years when Remus remembered the Marauders and chose not to contact them, not to contact Sirius. 

It makes Sirius clench her fists and burn with anger. 

But of course, this Remus didn’t do that. This Remus doesn’t know. 

Remus turns away from Sirius and walks Regulus through the next steps, even showing him some physical therapy exercises to help speed up the recovery. It takes a lot for Sirius not to bristle when Remus holds Regulus’s waist to keep him steady, when he takes his hand and helps him into a chair, when he leans in front of him with thoughtful, caring eyes. 

And then when he starts to massage Regulus’s leg, Sirius almost loses it.

“I’ll go get a wrap for you, Reg.” Remus moves across the room, his shoulder a breath away from Sirius’s as he opens and closes the door behind him. 

Sirius thumps her head onto the wall. “Are you okay, Reggie?”

Regulus smirks slowly and stands up, putting weight on his ankle.

“Stop—you’re going to—”

“I’m fine, Sirius. Obviously.” Regulus crosses his arms. “You wouldn’t talk to Moony, and now you have to.”

Sirius’s jaw falls open. “You were pretending?! You little—”

Regulus leans to the side when Remus opens the door, his face a mask of pain, the lying fucker. Sirius holds her hands at their sides, wishing he could throttle Regulus. As Remus ducks down and carefully wraps Regulus’s foot, Regulus mouths to Sirius, “Jealous?”

Oh, Sirius fucking fumes.

“Thanks for your help, Remus,” Regulus says, putting on his shoes. He takes the camp crutches that are a little too small for him. “I’ve got to go but I know Sirius wanted to talk to you about something, so I’ll just leave you to it.”

Then he’s limping away, crossing the living room to the door, the traitor. 

Sirius flinches when the screen door shuts. She finds themself right by the spot he pressed Remus into the wall that awful, amazing day and it hurts, it fucking hurts to be here. 

“I don’t know what Regulus was talking about,” Sirius says stiffly. “I’ve got to go so…”

Remus is back on the couch, a familiar book in his hands. “Sit down, Sirius.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Sirius does. “What—what is that?” she gestures to the book.

“A copy of Princess Bride, some camper left it, and Dumbledore for some reason thought I should read it.”

Sirius swallows. “Can I see it?”

Remus looks at Sirius curiously, then passes it over. Sirius almost sobs when he recognizes the dog-eared pages, the crumbling cover, and the doodles scribbled on the title page. 

“Whatcha reading, Moons?” Sirius slides across the bench and presses into Remus. 

“Something my mom sent me, it’s actually not bad.”

“Ooo read me some?”

“As you wish.” Remus’s eyes sparkle, lips quirked up. 

“What? What is it?”

“It’s just something one of the main characters says.”

“Sounds romantic,” Sirius lays her head on Remus’s shoulder. 

“It is.”

Sirius’s hands shake as he forces themself to give the book back to Remus. To not look at the annotations that years ago, Sirius watched Remus write. That was a different Remus, a different Moony. 

But while Remus is a different man—grown-up and wise and beautiful and tired—Sirius can see the boy he once was in the big things, like his cynical charm and utter loyalty, his sense of justice and knack for making people feel heard, and his stoic tendency to reveal only the tip of his iceberg. There’s a whole chunk of Remus’s thoughts and feelings tucked under the ocean, Sirius knows. Sometimes she can almost see it, feel it, know it. 

Sure, Remus can’t remember, but he’s still holding on to the kid he’s forgotten. 

The tragedy is, Sirius loves this Remus as much as he loved Moony. They would love any version of Remus; even the one that doesn’t love her back. 

“I think I know why you’ve been…behaving strangely,” Remus begins. “And I get that you feel embarrassed but honestly you don’t know how well I understand. I—I’m going through the same thing, actually.”

“What are you talking about?” Sirius feels her whole body buzzing, and with just one spark, he’ll burst. 

“You’re in love,” Remus says simply. 

And there Sirius goes, up in flames. 

“You kissed me because you were trying to move on.”

“That’s…” Sirius laughs darkly. “Not far off, actually.”

Remus nods. “Well, I think I was doing the same. I’m not sure I’ll ever be over Ty, nor do I think I want to be, and you—well I like you a lot, Sirius.”

Sirius winces. Like. He only likes her. 

“But it doesn’t seem like either of us are ready,” Remus finishes.

Ready—ready—ready. Lily isn’t ready for Mary and Regulus isn’t ready for James and Remus isn’t ready for Sirius. The word fills up every corner and crevice of Sirius’s mind until it loses its meaning, until it becomes a new language entirely, a chorus of foreign letters pushing Sirius away, alienating them until she’s entirely alone, an undiscerning mass of hurt. 

Maybe if Sirius were a bolder, braver human, she’d confess the truth to Remus as Regulus had begged him to. Weave a story about all their firsts together, and get down on their knees and beg—fucking beg Remus to try.

Because Sirius is ready. Sirius has always been ready. 

But it seems he’s the only one who is. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sirius says finally. “I’m in love with someone.”

“Someone you can’t have, I’m guessing?” Remus’s smile is sympathetic. 

“Exactly.”

******

When Sirius finishes her first Star Chat with his new cabin, they want to dive into the Black Lake and weep with the algae and slimy fish. That is a stupid idea, however, so instead, they take refuge in Peter’s workshed, a guitar and a notebook her only salvation. 

Ron is still pissy and Blaise won’t open up and Sirius misses Harry and Hermione and Remus barely even likes them and—

Sirius strums the guitar and breathes. 

This is why they are a songwriter, after all. The music makes life a little easier to swallow. A confessional poem, a diary entry, a love letter, a eulogy—whatever the form, the songs speak to Sirius on a level not fit for interpretation or analysis. It’s wholly unclassifiable and incomprehensible, much like Sirius herself.

Sky-blue and purple petals on a grave out of mind

Griever comes, griever weeps, once beloved and pined

Forget me not; Forget me not; Moon of before

Forget me now; Forget me not; You promised, you swore

Old truths and old betrayals, slip like sand

Despite all we lost, I offer my hand 

Forget me not; Forget me not; Moon of today

Forget me now; Forget me not; Please, will you stay?

If knowing is punish, remembrance is praise

You, bright and buoyant, I remain in the haze

Forget me not; Forget me not; I’ll forgive if you do

Forget me now; Forget me not; Go, find something new

Sirius rips out the page and crumbles it. 

“But I liked that one,” James whines, leaning against the doorway. “I couldn’t really understand the lyrics so that means it’s gotta be something deep.”

Sirius sets the guitar to the side and stands, arms open. They hug each other for eons, Sirius unsure where one starts and the other ends, until they weld together and swallow each other whole—one being, one heart. 

It’s only there, in James’s embrace, that Sirius can cry. Stupid, stinging sobs that sound broken and inhuman, not unlike a dog howling.

Then James’s walkie-talkie crackles and Sirius quiets. 

“Prongs?” 

“That’s Harry,” James tells Sirius, unhooking the walkie-talkie from his belt. “Hey bud, everything okay?”

“I think I made a mistake.”

James and Sirius share a glance. “What do you mean, Harry? Where are you?”

“Harry?” Lily’s voice comes on the line. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” the walkie-talkie crackles. “I’m sorry I just thought that it would help Sirius and Remus love each other and Dracothoughtitwasareallygreat idea and he knows everything so I showed Dr. Moony the picture and now I think he’s really upset but not as upset as I am because I really didn't mean to hurt anyone’s feelings and I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Wait—what picture, Harry?” Lily asks. 

“Um, I found a picture of Sirius and Remus playing at a talent show when they were campers.”

Sirius freezes, heart bouncing down their chest, into his stomach, and tumbling all the way to the floor with a splat. Remus knows. 

Remus doesn’t remember, but he knows. 

Sirius and James scramble to press the button, “Where are you, Harry?”

“I’m back in my cabin, Dr. Moony walked me here.”

“And where is Remus?” Sirius says.

“I don’t know!” Harry’s voice cracks.

The next few minutes are a blur of chaos—James tells Harry to wake up Regulus and Lily runs to grab Peter and Sirius darts off to look for Remus.

All Sirius can think as he runs through the camp and into the Wayward Woods is that Regulus was right. Remus won’t forgive them for keeping this from him. Remus won’t forgive Sirius.

Lying seemed like the right thing at the time—the only thing they could do, but now Sirius wants to vomit from the guilt. God, they hate disappointing Moony. There’s nothing quite as gut-wrenching as that. 

It’s ironic, it’s tragic that the first place Sirius looks, the place she runs to on instinct, is where they find Remus. As if after all this time, despite all the memories lost, Remus can’t help but take refuge in the sacred sanctuary that is their treehouse. 

“Remus?” Sirius says crawling up the ladder. “Remus I’m so sorry—”

“I need a moment to…think.”

Sirius scoots into the small space, pressing against the wall to make themself as small as possible. Then she sits in the silence and waits. 

What’s a few more minutes of waiting after all these years?

Though Sirius knows not to expect anything. High hopes landed her with a broken heart and a drinking problem, high hopes kept her up every full moon with thoughts of Moony, high hopes had him scouring the web, searching for any trace of Remus.

High hopes left Sirius high and dry.

So Sirius doesn’t hope. They only wait. 

“Did you ever finish the song?” is the first thing Remus says. 

Sirius tenses. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that when you finished the song you were going to serenade me.”

It takes a while for Sirius to understand what Remus is talking about, then she remembers that day on the wood chips during a songwriting class, when Remus had flirted and smirked and asked Sirius to share what he had written. 

“That’s what you want to talk about right now?” Sirius says weakly. 

“I guess not.”

Sirius fiddles with her fingers. “I did finish it. Tonight, actually.”

“Oh.”

“It’s sad.”

“Is it?”

Sirius doesn’t answer, Remus doesn’t say anything else, and they fall back into silence. 

“Do you have questions for me?” Sirius clears their throat. “I mean about, you know, then?”

Remus looks up, eyes shining. “That’s what I’m trying to think about.”

“Okay, Moon—” Sirius cuts himself off. 

“You, fuck, that was my nickname wasn’t it?” Remus looks pained and this shouldn’t be painful, at least Sirius doesn’t think so.

But it is. 

“Do you want to know, Remus? Cause I’ll tell you everything. But there’s a reason that I didn’t in the first place.”

Remus clenches his jaw. “Because I told you I was glad I didn’t remember.”

“Yeah.” Sirius focuses on the collar of Remus’s sweater, not able to meet his accusing brown eyes. “Should we have told you?”

“What do you mean we?”

Sirius pauses. “You’re asking?”

“I’m asking.”

“For five summers in a row, you attended Hogwarts with me, James, Lily, and Peter. We called our cabin the Marauders.”

“I—” Remus splutters. “I was one of you?”

“You came up with the name, in fact.” 

“I can’t believe Lily—god, she always looked at me like—and you, you pretended like—”

“I’m sorry.”

“In the picture Harry and Draco showed me, I was…” Remus rubs his face. “I was playing the guitar and looking at you like—” He stops, takes a breath, and continues, “Like I used to look at Ty.”

Sirius waits for a question because they’ll only give what Remus wants to know, they’ll only do what Remus wants. Anything, everything, or perhaps, nothing. 

“I know we were kids but did you and I…” Remus trails off. 

“Yes.” It’s a simple answer to a complicated question, one that Remus himself can’t quite pose. Even Sirius, the one with all the memories, isn’t sure how to describe them. Or at least, what they were. 

“Would you let me get the others?” Sirius says. “It’s—it’s not only me that you cared about, we were a family of sorts, and then you kinda disappeared on us.”

“And more than a decade later, I showed up here at Hogwarts.” Remus shakes his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“Trust me, it’s been a month and I still have a heart attack every time I look at you.”

Remus blinks. “Oh, uhm. Sorry?”

“Not your fault that I…” didn’t move on, that I still love you, that I miss you with every breath. “That I remember and you don’t.”

“No, that’s my dad’s fault.” Remus laughs bitterly.

“The fucker.”

Remus tenses. “You knew him then?” 

“I don’t have to tell you anything about him if you don’t want,” Sirius says carefully. “But, yes, I met him on multiple occasions.”

“Right. Well. I don’t want to know.”

Sirius nods. “And what about the rest? What about the Marauders?”

Remus ducks his head. “I’ll admit, a part of me has always been curious about the kid I was.”

Sirius can’t help the grin on their face. “You were magical.” Still are.

“Ty would tell me I should,” Remus whispers, almost too quiet to hear. 

“Look, there’s no rush, alright?” Sirius leans forward. “You can think about it and tell us when you are ready. If you’re ready.”

It’s an echo of their earlier conversation, Remus vowing that he would never be ready, and Sirius secretly chanting that she always has been. 

“Yeah, alright. I could use some time.”

Sirius has to squeeze their fingers into her palms because Remus looks so young in this moment, a mirror of the boy he once was, only with time written into his frown lines.

“We’ll wait then.” I’ll wait forever.

Sirius smiles, and Remus almost smiles back.