Remus
Christmas day starts with Remus’ face buried in Padfoot’s fur.
Well, technically, Christmas Day starts with Sirius waking Remus up with his nightmare, then making him way into Remus’ bed transformed as a dog, but Remus falls quickly asleep once Padfoot has settled, and the day properly begins when he wakes once more.
Sirius stirs when Remus removes his arm from around him, and by the time Remus is sitting upright, Padfoot’s doggy head is staring at him reproachfully.
“Happy Christmas,” Remus greets, and watches as the realisation hits him.
Within moments, Padfoot has transformed into Sirius, who throws his arms around Remus. Remus’ heart beats so hard he’s afraid Sirius will feel it through the thin material of their sleep shirts, but he does nothing to push him away; Sirius has been on a high lately, and Remus has been trying to encourage it, too scared of the comedown.
“Happy Christmas, Remus!” Sirius finally pulls away, but grabs Remus’ hand as he clambers out of bed, tugging him out as well. Remus follows, because it’s Christmas, and he’s not going to make a fuss on Christmas.
Sirius ushers them into the kitchen, where he makes a Christmas breakfast, chattering about their plans to have Hope and Minerva over for lunch and presents.
“You can open some of your presents now, though, of course—there are quite a few, I will admit, I maybe went a bit overboard—“ Remus has seen the pile of gifts meticulously labeled with variations of the name “Moony”, and thinks it’s more than “a bit overboard”, but only rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that look, I’m making up for the five years, plus all of the gifts you would have gotten from the Potters.”
“You’re not my godfather, Sirius, you don’t have to give me gifts on behalf of the Potters,” Remus reminds, “plus, if anything, I’m the one who should be making up for the past five years.”
Sirius waves his hand dismissively, in the way he does when things like money or material objects are mentioned. “I just need your company,” he says airily.
Remus pushes down the surge of emotions that come up at his words; now is not the time, he reminds himself. It’s never the time, the beast replies, because you’re in denial again. Remember the last time you were in denial?
Remus does not pursue that line of thought, and it’s because it’s Christmas, not because he’s in denial. (The last time ended with Sirius thinking he was a traitor, kicking him out of his flat and breaking his heart in the process, and not telling him about switching secret keepers, thus leading to him being wrongfully imprisoned and Harry being sent to his aunt and uncle. No, Remus is not thinking about this.)
Instead, Remus prepares their tea and sits down to breakfast with Sirius, who has begun talking about all he’s planning on cooking for lunch. Sirius sets down a stack of pancakes, then eggs, then sausages, and when Remus looks up again from where he had been meticulously pouring the right amount of syrup to his pancakes, the entire kitchen island has been taken over by breakfast foods.
“How—“ Remus blinks incredulously, because this much food cannot have been made this fast.
“Magic,” Sirius shrugs.
“But Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration—“
“I didn’t transfigure the food, Moons, I just… hurried up the cooking process for some.” Sirius sets down a bowl of fruit salad. Remus points to it.
“That’s the only thing I could hurry up with magic,” he remarks.
“That’s the only thing you could make even without magic,” Sirius retorts, which is quite rude, because Remus certainly can cook eggs. And toast.
They continue their banter as they eat their breakfast, and then Sirius charms the food to stay preserved while they go into the living room, where he piles a few presents onto Remus’ lap. Remus dutifully opens them to reveal a few books (his heart jumps at the sight of them—Sirius has always known Remus’ book type, reading being one of the first things they ever bonded over as children); a new coat (Remus rolls his eyes at this, because his current coat works fine, so long as he doesn’t forget to weave warming charms into the seams); and a relatively ornate hand mirror.
Remus eyes the mirror warily, raising it to see his own face staring skeptically back.
“That’s… that mirror is like the one Prongs and I had,” Sirius says quietly. “I… I have that set, still, but I couldn’t…” Sirius shrugs. “I wanted to give you your own.”
Remus remembers those mirrors. The two of them had thought themselves so clever when they figured it out, experimenting and running trials in the dormitory. Remus had offered to do some research and help, but this was something they had wanted to do on their own—Peter had rolled his eyes and told Remus that they just didn’t want to share, and if Remus had helped they would have felt obligated. “This is just a “best friends” thing,” Peter had said, lifting his fingers to make air quotes around the words. “Us mere dorm mates don’t get to be part.”
“Don’t particularly want a mirror myself,” Remus had replied at the time, “I can’t imagine what trouble they’d get me into if they had access to me all the time. No one wants to be attached at the hip with James and Sirius but James and Sirius themselves. I’m just interested in the magic.”
Now, looking at this mirror, designed—Remus now realises—to be similar in style to Sirius’ own pair, Remus only feels a pang of sadness. They had made these mirrors so that they could never fully be apart, because who was James without Sirius and who was Sirius without James?
Remus tears his eyes from the mirror to land on the man himself, sitting across from him, looking nervous.
Who is Sirius without James? Remus wonders to himself. And why would he give me a mirror?
“Do you… do you like it?” Sirius ventures.
“I…” Remus looks back at the mirror. “I’m not James, Sirius.” He finally says.
“What? I know that.”
“I can’t be James,” Remus continues, looking back at Sirius, “I can’t do for you what he did, can’t be what he was to you.”
“I know! No one can, no one will. James is… James was my best friend, my brother, my other half. No one will ever replace him in my life. But Moony… You’re important to me, too. You’re my best friend, too. And I… I know that this past week has been a lot of us just—living in each other’s pocket—“ well, seeing as Remus was jobless and technically homeless, it was more Remus living in Sirius’ pocket— “and I know it won’t last, but I hope… No matter what happens, I don’t want to lose contact with you. I want to be able to speak to you even if we’re far apart.”
Remus looks back down at the mirror and turns it around in his hands. It looks silver, though obviously Remus is holding it in his hands and not screaming out in pain, so it can’t be real silver. Sirius has replaced the dog and stag designs that he and James had on their mirrors to a beautiful, majestic wolf, and for a split second Remus wonders if he looks like that, when he’s transformed.
“You know,” Remus finally says, “muggles have a similar technology, called mobile phones.” Sirius opens his mouth, looking indignant, so Remus continues, “but they’re a new technology, very expensive and not quite widely available, and they don’t allow you to see the person you’re calling, so I suppose this is a better option for the two of us.”
Sirius beams.
After Remus has unwrapped approximately half of the presents Sirius has gotten for him, Sirius excuses himself to start on the elaborate Christmas lunch that he has planned. Remus leaves him to it, putting his newly acquired things in the room that is slowly becoming more “Remus’” than a study. He then takes the next few moments of alone time to finalise his own gift to Sirius, one he has been working on for a while, secretly gathering photographs from everyone he can—he even contacted Dumbledore to see who in the Order might have some—and putting them into the photo album he bought.
It’s not much, especially since James and Lily definitely had the largest collection of group pictures but Remus is unwilling to make his way to their ruined house and look for their photo albums, but Remus hopes that Sirius will appreciate it nonetheless. He’s not delusional enough to think it could ever equal even close to what Sirius has given him already, but he’s also not too proud to admit (internally) that nothing he could ever afford—or make—could match what Sirius has given. (The proud part of him is, of course, pissed that Sirius would be so thoughtless as to shower him with gifts when he must know Remus cannot reciprocate, even if he wanted to.)
Remus finishes the album and wraps it just in time to place it under the tree before his mother comes in, followed soon after by Minerva McGonagall. Remus invites them both in, since Sirius is still cooking, and they sit in the sitting room for a bit chatting and catching up. Professor McGonagall, it turns out, has met his mother once or twice, when Remus was first entering Hogwarts, and so the conversation revolves predominantly around the two getting to know each other better and learning what has happened in the years past. Including, apparently, McGonagall—sorry, Minerva—losing her husband, who Remus did not know she even had. The two women seem to bond over being widows, and Remus awkwardly excuses himself to check on Sirius, because although Remus has lost many, many people in his relatively short life, he has yet to have had a long-term life partner, much less lose him (or her).
“Did you know McGonagall was married?” Is one of the first things Remus asks, after casting a quick muffliato.
“What?” Sirius looks distractedly over his shoulder. “Married?”
“Yeah, she just said her husband died some years back; she and Ma are bonding over it or something.”
“ Married?” Sirius looks incredulous. “After all my years of flirting, it turns out she was married?”
Remus makes a face. “You weren’t serious about the flirting—don’t.“ He raises a hand in warning at Sirius’ “serious/sirius puns” face.
“I wasn’t,” Sirius admits, after a brief pout. “But she still should’ve told us!”
“I can think of plenty reasons why she definitely should not have,” Remus responds, smiling. “You and James were already insufferable, you’d have had a field day learning anything intimate about the teachers.”
“True.” Sirius grins, “I already feel strange even knowing she had been married back then. Who was the bloke?”
“No clue, too scared to ask.” Remus had also felt strange learning about his former professor’s love life. “I mean, what if we know him?”
“Oh, blimey, I really hope not.” Sirius grimaces. “Did he die in the war?”
“She didn’t say; doesn’t sound like it, honestly. I think she’d have mentioned it if he had.”
Sirius hums. “Well, now I know what lunch conversation will be about!” He announces cheerily. Remus feels a groan leave his mouth.
“No, Padfoot, please don’t,” he begs.
“I’ve got to! Please, Minerva knows so much about me, and I only heard about this crucial thing about her from you, just now! How can I call us friends?”
Remus groans, but when Sirius dramatically enters the sitting room moments later to announce that lunch is served, and “really Minerva, why hadn’t you told us you were married, we’ve only known each other more than a decade!” Remus does not stop him, only follows him dutifully to the dining table.
Minerva, Remus quickly learns, is much less strict when she isn’t your teacher. She is still stern, of course, and Remus fears her disappointment nearly as much as his own mother’s, but there is a kindness and even a fondness that he knows she had hidden in Hogwarts. She and his mother get along splendidly, and Minerva once again shows her knowledge of the muggle world in a way that surprises Remus, seeing as she must have been living solely in the wizarding world for decades, now. His Ma is obviously glad to meet someone else closer to her age, instead of conversing with only her son and his friend-maybe-ex-lover.
The conversation moves past Minerva’s love life and Hope’s own experiences being married and children, flowing naturally to Harry, a common topic in the household.
“Nothing new, yet,” Remus confirms, “although it is Christmas.”
“I hope we do hear something soon, though,” Sirius adds, “I hope we can have him settled here as soon as possible.”
“It would definitely be nice for him to be here for his birthday,” Hope agrees.
“His birthday?” Sirius frowns, “but that’s seven months from now!”
“Well, they do need to find him, then go through all the paperwork and legal what-not,” Remus replies reasonably, “and that can take a very long time. You’ll need to pass as a suitable guardian, maybe even go to court to get everything signed off and official.”
Sirius huffs. “Seven months is still far too long,” he grumbles, but doesn’t argue, which is just as well, because to be honest, neither of them have any clue how long the process would take. All of Remus’ research had been for adopting in general, not about finding and adopting your own godchild, which he hopes is a shorter process.
Minerva swiftly changes the subject, and although Sirius continues to smile and engage in the conversation, it’s clear to Remus that his mind is still on Harry, and his energy has dimmed somewhat.
Luckily, presents seem to lift Sirius’ spirits again. He eagerly bounces around the room, handing people presents from the tree with great pomp and fanfare, even when Remus had offered to help or sort them with magic. Remus receives a really nice box of chocolate from his mother, and Minerva gifts him a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts.
“Albus told me you might be considering going back to school,” she explains, “and I personally think it is a brilliant idea. You have always been quite suited for academia; every one of your teachers thought so.”
They certainly did not, actually, and Remus knows this because many professors—such as Professor Slughorn, who taught Remus’ worst subject—frankly did not think a werewolf should have even been at Hogwarts, much less higher education.
Still, Remus thanks her, and does not say that he has no plans of actually applying. Either way, he’s sure he’ll enjoy the book.
He receives a few other things from Sirius—a set of scented candles, a new fancy quill and ink, and some chocolate—which earns him a look from his mother that he resolutely ignores. He’s infinitely grateful that Sirius had suggested he open some of his gifts earlier today, away from prying eyes, but is equally annoyed that Sirius had even gotten so many things that necessitated opening some ahead of time.
Sirius seems to enjoy the pair of earrings Remus had bought him at one of the Christmas markets (in a rare moment when he could sneak away from the man), but looks near tears once he sees the photo album.
“I just thought…” Remus trails off. “I know Lily and James were the ones more organised with pictures, so…” Sirius flips through the album, silent. “I thought, if you like some of them, we could replicate them and you could put them up around here,” Remus adds lamely. His Ma, who is sitting beside him, wraps her arm reassuringly around him.
“Remus, I…” Sirius wipes at his eyes surreptitiously.
“I know you have trouble remembering happy times, sometimes. So I thought… this might help.” Remus watches as Sirius reaches the end of the photographs and flips the page to a blank spread. “And I thought, maybe you could add more. Of Harry, and this house, and…” And us, Remus wants to say, but luckily doesn’t. He won’t be in that photo album any more than he already is, because he will be gone once Harry has been found—or he ruins everything and Sirius kicks him out again, whichever comes first.
“Moony, thank you.” Sirius rises, and Remus mirrors him, only to be pulled into a tight hug. “Thank you so much,” Sirius whispers in his ear.
“Of course, Pads.” Remus holds him in return, trying to keep his own emotions at bay.
The rest of the afternoon goes without a hitch, but as soon as their guests have left and Remus and Sirius have eaten their dinner (leftovers from both breakfast and lunch), Sirius brings the photo album out again and summons a bottle of wine. They spend the rest of the evening going through each photo, talking about the different people in it, their memories about when the picture was taken, and even some moments of watching and waving at James and Lily.
There are tears, and Sirius definitely gets drunk, but for once Remus doesn’t feel numb.
It’s New Year’s Eve when everything comes to a head. Sirius, whose excitement from Christmas had quickly dropped into a depression in the days and nights after, has been alternating between clinging to Remus and pushing him away. Every day Remus wakes up unsure if he’d get a Sirius eager for a hug and a big apology breakfast, or if he’d get a Sirius pissy and frustrated, making passive-aggressive comments and blowing up when Remus retaliates. And every night, Remus goes to bed unsure if he’d hear Sirius wake up from a nightmare, unsure if he would open his door to Padfoot and provide comfort; unsure if Padfoot would come, and if he even wanted him to.
Remus is trying, he really, really is, but after a month of pretending everything is fine, pretending like he and Sirius were starting over and he truly forgave Sirius for everything, he’s starting to feel at the end of his rope. And on New Years Eve, Remus wakes to find that Sirius is in one of his moods. He tries to be understanding, and patient, like he has been all week, and sets about making them breakfast, which Sirius barely acknowledges. Then he tries making conversation, but Sirius only huffs, rolls his eyes, and goes up to his room.
That’s just as well, Remus thinks, I don’t want to talk to you, either.
They had made plans with Remus’ Ma and the people in town to attend New Years in the square, but Remus is fairly certain Sirius will not be going, despite having roped Remus into helping him pick out a muggle outfit that would be appropriate for the event, then chosen Remus’ outfit as well. Remus just rolls his eyes, though, and heads off to his mother’s, where they chat and have lunch and Remus pretends his thoughts aren’t drifting over to Sirius.
“Is he alright, today?” Hope finally asks during a lull in the conversation.
“Who?” Remus asks, feigning ignorance.
“Sirius. He didn’t come with you to visit.”
“Oh, well. I didn’t invite him. We’re not attached at the hip, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Oh, don’t look at me that way, Ma, it’s not even my fault! I woke up and he was in a mood, didn’t want to talk or anything. I let him be.”
“What happened last night?”
Remus rolls his eyes. “Nothing, yesterday was fine.” Well, no, yesterday had not been fine, but Remus isn’t about to tell his mother that Remus had fled after Sirius, eyes dark and looking him up and down, had offered himself as a New Year’s kiss. Or how Remus had asked Sirius if the outfit might help him pull someone tonight, watching the other man carefully to see if he could detect any signs of jealousy.
Hope decides not to give Remus a lecture this time, which Remus is grateful for, and he returns home to Sirius’ house with higher spirits and a cake.
“Where’ve you been, then?” Sirius asks almost as soon as Remus is through the door.
“Ma’s. She sent a cake.” Remus tries to make his voice friendly, but Sirius’ tone has already put him on the defensive.
“You went without me?”
“What, am I not allowed to visit my own mother without you?” Remus rolls his eyes and goes to put the cake in the kitchen.
“Well no, of course you are, just…”
“I’m allowed a life, Sirius, and especially if you’re going to be all sulky and ignore me, I’m certainly allowed to go find someone who actually wants my company.”
“I want your company!”
“Do you?” Remus whirls around and Sirius freezes in the doorway. “Sirius, I—I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep tiptoeing around you, or having all these small arguments and pretending like we’ve dropped them and made up when we haven’t, or you acting like there’s no one in the world you’d rather be with one moment then acting like you’d rather be anywhere but with me the next.”
“Me?!” Sirius explodes, throwing his arms in the air, “ I’m the one being hot and cold? You’re the one who’s been giving me mixed signals!”
“Mixed—what mixed signals?”
But Sirius is already pacing, mouth moving as he rants. “…but you won’t let me in, like at all, so sometimes I think we’re more roommates than friends. And then I’ll think you’re flirting—no, I know you’re flirting—then I flirt back and you run off or close yourself off and it’s back to square one! Remus Lupin, afraid of intimacy! Remus Lupin, says he doesn’t want it but acts for all the world like he does! Remus Lupin, says he wants to help with Harry but won’t commit to ever talking about seeing the boy once he’s found!” Sirius runs his hand through his hair and stops walking. “Remus Lupin, pretends no one can love him when he knows I’ve never loved anyone more in the entire world, and that I never will,” he practically spits.
You don’t love me, is Remus’ immediate thought, and he opens his mouth to say it. Sirius glares harder, and Remus remembers saying that, once, and lying about his own feelings as well. He closes his mouth again.
Sirius scoffs and storms out of the room, his wand in his hand, and Remus follows, hearing Sirius get angrier and angrier as his paces in the sitting room and lets sparks fly from his wand.
“Why won’t you say something ?” Sirius demands, but Remus doesn’t know what Sirius wants him to say. “No, of course you won’t say anything, because I’m right, aren’t I, you’re only pretending to care, pretending to forgive me, pretending—all of this is fake, because you feel guilty, because you want me to find Harry and you’ve got this misguided sense of justice where you think I need you to help me find him, that it’s got to be you helping find him—well guess what, Remus, it doesn’t! You’ve done enough to fuck up my life, and let Harry’s be fucked up, and if you’re just going to bugger off after Harry’s been found then you might as well just bugger off now!”
Sirius stomps over to Remus’ room and slams the door open. Remus’ heart sinks as Sirius starts aggressively sending spells around, throwing Remus’ clothes out the door and sending a blasting spell straight at the small pile of books Sirius had gotten Remus as a Christmas gift—and suddenly, seeing a book fly into the wall at the force of the explosion, Remus has found his voice again.
“Look, if you wanted something to take your anger out on, go and blast some trees apart outside. If you want me to leave, tell me to leave. But don’t you dare go around breaking my things just because you’re frustrated.”
“Just because—“ Sirius whirls around, and Remus finds his own wand pointed at Sirius through instinct alone.
They stand there, staring at each other’s wands, and Remus remembers the last time Sirius and he had squared off like this. The last time Sirius had kicked him out. Neither had cast any spells that time (at least, not at each other), and Remus doubted any would be cast today, but it’s a sobering realisation, that what had taken over a year during a war had only taken over a month post-war. (Post–Lily and James.)
Remus slowly lowers his wand, and watches as Sirius does as well, eyeing him warily, as if he wasn’t the first to draw his wand.
“I’m sorry,” Remus says, taking measured breaths to keep his voice steady. “I… I’ve overstayed my welcome, I see that now.” Sirius doesn’t say anything, and Remus starts to feel the tears come, but he refuses to cry in front of Sirius, not now. “Please let me pack up my things, and I’ll go back to my mother’s tonight.”
“Remus…”
Remus shoulders his way past Sirius and takes out his overnight bag, waving his wand around with a quiet “ pack”.
“Remus, no, stop.”
“Stop?” Remus turns around, feeling the hurt pour out of his mouth, sudden and unbidden. “You’re the one forcing me out, you’re the one tossing my things around, ruining my books—“ his voice breaks at the last word, and Sirius winces.
“I know, I know—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“No, Padfoot, I think you did.” Remus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his fury making his hands shake. “And I don’t blame you. You’re right; I don’t plan on staying to help with Harry. And I haven’t fully forgiven you, or forgotten our history, or started a clean slate like we said we would. And yes, I’m only here because I feel undeniably guilty, because it’s all my fault, because I shouldn’t be here but since I am, the best I can do about my continued survival is to help you and Harry live your lives and stay out of them myself.”
“Moony…”
“And yes, I love you, and yes, I hate you for it. And yes, I know you might think you feel something for me—and it might even be real—but I know that we’d be bad for each other, I’ve known that from the very beginning, but I just can’t—I can’t— quit you. I know I’m ruining you and you’re hurting me, but whenever you ask I answer, and it needs to stop.”
“No, Remus—“
“ Yes, you know I’m right, Sirius—“
“No, you’re not—“
“I’m a Dark creature, Sirius, and—“
“You are Moony, my best friend and the man I love most in the entire world! You are not a Dark or dangerous creature, and you are lovable, don’t ever say you’re not.” The passion in Sirius’ voice makes Remus pause, and Sirius continues, “don’t you dare dismiss my feelings like that. Not again. I love you, and I’ve loved you since I was fifteen years old, and you don’t have to love me back, but don’t you dare say I can’t love you.”
“Fifteen?” Remus’ head spins. “But fifteen…”
“Since fourth year,” Sirius confirms. “I thought it was just a crush at first, but… Well, I think the love came before the sexual attraction. But fourth year was when you had that growth spurt, and…” Sirius shrugs helplessly, “well, you know how hot you are.”
Remus does not, actually, know how hot he is, but that’s not what has caught his mind. “But if you loved me at fourth year…” He shakes his head. “You can’t have.”
“Remus, I bloody swear—“
“No—no, I don’t—I only mean—but then why, Sirius?”
“Why did I love you? Well—“
“No, I mean why did you treat me the way you did, if you loved me?”
Sirius is quiet for a moment, thinking. “Why did I… treat you like a dear friend? Well, maybe because you are one.” Remus shakes his head and opens his mouth to clarify, but Sirius continues, speaking faster and louder with every word, “why did I become an animagus to help you through your transformations, why did I study my arse off in potions and charms so I could heal you, why did I beg Madam Pomfrey to teach me healing spells, why did I make sure the common room was quiet during the week around the full moon, why did I take notes in all our shared classes on days you were absent and take your bag when you were feeling weak?” Sirius threw his hands up. “I knew you didn’t notice all that I did for you, Moony, but I didn’t think you were so oblivious to not notice that I cared.”
“If you cared, you wouldn’t have tried to make me a murderer,” Remus snaps back. Then pauses. “Did you really make sure the common room was quiet during the week around the full?”
“Well.” Sirius shuffles sheepishly. “Well, okay, that was only after… the Incident. Which I was very, very sorry for, and I apologised, and I thought—I thought—“
“I know.” And Remus does know, because Sirius had given him an elaborate apology letter, and then apology speech, and at the end of the day Remus knew Sirius had never meant for anyone to be killed, even Snape. Remus had forgiven Sirius for his mistake, especially since no real harm had come to it and he had realised his folly in goading Snape into following him the night of the full, and James had been able to stop it all and save the boy.
“That—that had nothing to do with my feelings for you,” Sirius says carefully. “It was Sniv—“
“No, but it did, actually,” Remus cuts him off, “because I know you didn’t really mean it, and you were angry at Snape, but… At that moment, when you did that, you didn’t see me as a person. You saw me as a monster, something that would scare and maybe hurt Snape.”
“No—“
“And then when you realised Snape was actually following you like you’d dared him to do—“
“Moony, no, that’s not—“
“—you realised that I was not only a monster that might scare Snape, I was a monster that might kill Snape, and you didn’t want that on your conscience. It had nothing to do with your feelings for me? Maybe you think that because at that moment I wasn’t human to you.”
Sirius took a step back, face pale in horror. “No, Remus—“
“Look, I’m not angry at you about it.” Remus sits down on his bed heavily. “Not anymore, at least. It’s just the way things are; I know. I’ve had to deal with this discrimination all my life, and I know you might not even realise when you see me as subhuman—“
“I don’t—“
“—and I don’t entirely blame you for it. I know you grew up thinking and learning that werewolves were Dark creatures. I know that’s why you suspected me of being the spy—“
“Remus, no!”
“Then why?” Remus demands, “Why, if not for what I am?”
“Because you didn’t love me anymore!” Sirius bursts, and the sentence is so absurd that Remus has no retort, and Sirius can finally speak a full sentence. “Or maybe… maybe you never loved me.” Sirius wipes his eyes aggressively. “But I… I loved you, and I wanted you, and for a while, when we started, I thought you loved and wanted me too. I thought, I thought we could be happy together, like James and Lily. I thought we were perfect for each other. I’d wanted you for so long. But… but you started pulling away, and giving me less affection, and you’d fuck me but not cuddle after, and you wouldn’t talk to me about your missions and were missing moons, and it felt like we weren’t even friends anymore. It was like, the more I gave to you, the more you pulled away.”
“So you thought I was a traitor because I didn’t give you the affection you wanted?”
“No, I thought you were a traitor because you were cheating on me and clearly using and manipulating me!”
“What?” Remus can’t believe his ears. “Sirius, I was not cheating on you—“
“Yes you were, don’t deny it—“
“I couldn’t have, because we weren’t together. It was just sex.”
They stare at each other, and Remus is awarded a full display of Sirius’ heart breaking.
“…Oh,” Sirius says, and he suddenly looks so small, so vulnerable. “That—“ his voice breaks. “That would, ah, explain a lot.”
“Sirius…”
“No, no, you—“
“Sirius, I’m so sorry.”
“No, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” Sirius wipes his eyes and sniffs wetly. “You didn’t… you didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, I knew… I knew we never really talked about it, but I’d just assumed…” His jaw clenches. “Well anyway, now you know why I thought you were the traitor.” He wipes his eyes again, and Remus’ heart hurts at the sight of him so devastated. “I thought… you clearly didn’t love me like I loved you, but you kept coming back, kept… giving me hope that maybe things would change, kept… kept sleeping with me whenever I was ready to break it all off, and I couldn’t help but feel like you were using me. Manipulating me into giving you everything, telling you all my secrets, just so you could… tell Voldemort, or that other man you were seeing, or…”
“Sirius…”
“I just—I guess it didn’t occur to me that you were just using me for my body.” Sirius’ voice breaks again. “My ego strikes again, huh?” He laughs hollowly, and Remus’ eyes burn with the need to cry.
“No, no I wasn’t—“ Remus sighs. “I didn’t… treat you right, that time, and I’m sorry. I…”
“Just thought I was sexy, I know—“
“No, Sirius, I loved you. I did, I really, really did, but I didn’t even know it myself. I—I didn’t think I deserved to love anyone, much less someone as wonderful as you, and I didn’t think you could ever love a Dark creature like me—“
“I never thought of you as a Dark creature, Moony! I never thought you subhuman, if anything I thought you better than human. Not—not because of the wolf thing, but because of your kindness, and patience, your cleverness and smartness and all those pranks you thought of. I thought the world of you, Remus. And the Incident with Snape… That wasn’t because I thought you some dangerous monster. In fact, it was because I didn’t think you dangerous that I would have even dared to goad Snape like that. And yes, I was an idiot, and I made a mistake and I will forever be sorry for having done it. But it’s not because I thought you a creature, or less than human. I—“ Sirius cut himself off to take a deep breath. “I only think about your lycanthropy insofar as it hurts you. I think about it in the way you look after the full, in the screams you make when you Turn—“ Remus winces at that; it’s not something he likes to think about at all, much less thinking about Sirius hearing it. “—I think of it in the way Moony and I would play, sometimes, during a full, the way we would run around the Forest and hunt rabbits.” Sirius shakes his head. “You are dangerous, yes, but you were never dangerous to me.” Sirius smirks, and adds, “and honestly, I think you’re more dangerous as a wizard than a werewolf.”
Remus grins weakly at Sirius’ attempt to lighten the mood, but doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he believes Sirius, that he doesn’t think of him as a monster. Sirius seems to notice this and sighs, moving Remus’ overnight bag onto the ground with a thud and taking its place on the bed.
“Was that why you thought I might be the traitor?” Sirius asks, after a moment. “Because you thought I only saw you as a monster?”
Remus nods slowly. “I didn’t blame you for thinking I was the traitor, or thinking of me as a Dark creature. But… whenever I tried to think of how it was possible, I just remembered that you did, and maybe that was a sign.”
“Because I’m a Black.” Sirius spits the word out bitterly, and Remus finds himself shaking his head immediately.
“No—well, partially because you were raised to believe certain things, and I wasn’t sure how much of them you disagreed with, in the end—“
“All of them!”
“—but I would have likely thought that about someone raised in a Light family, as well. Hell, sometimes even my father would say things to me that hurt, and I knew he was trying his best. No,” Remus shakes his head again, “no, it was mostly because I knew how cruel you could be.” Sirius breathes in sharply beside Remus. “When we were kids, you… Well, not saying they didn’t deserve it, but you could be downright cruel to the Slytherins, especially Snape, who quite frankly wasn’t any worse than the others. You were a bully, and James, too, but—James liked to act out just to make you smile, you know. You’d be down, and he’d make a plan to prank the Slytherins. And as we grew older, those pranks became… crueler.”
“The Slytherins became crueler, too,” Sirius points out, which Remus agrees to with a nod of his head.
“Yes, which is partly why I never truly tried to put a stop to it. Like I said, they deserved it. They became—or already were—Death Eaters, and my blood boils to think even some of them have gotten away with their actions.”
“Malfoy, for one,” Sirius grumbles under his breath. But Remus has already had the angry conversation about who did and who didn’t get sent to Azkaban, and so ignores him.
“But that doesn’t mean you weren’t cruel, either. You… I thought you capable of murder, even at twenty. And I thought that you were loyal, loyal to a fault, and I thought that loyalty lay with Dumbledore and James, but—“
“It did. Does.”
“Yes. But at the time, if your loyalties had shifted a bit… Well, I thought you loyal to me, as well, and then you kicked me to the curb and said you’d kill me if you ever saw me again.”
Sirius takes Remus’ hand carefully, then squeezes it when Remus wraps his fingers around his in return. “I was hurt, and irrational. I thought you were using my loyalty to betray the one person I would never turn my back on. And I was scared that one day you’d try to make me choose, between you and the cause. And I was afraid of what I would choose, if you asked me right.”
“I would never ask you to choose something like that, Padfoot.” Remus tells him earnestly, even though it’s years too late.
“I know.” Sirius squeezes his hand again.
“And I don’t want you to choose between me and Harry, either,” Remus adds. “Which is why—“
“Why should I have to choose between you two?” Sirius turns and places his free hand on Remus’ thigh. Remus pretends his heart doesn’t beat faster at the move. “Remus, I want both of you in my life. I want… I want you to help me with Harry, be part of Harry’s life.”
But Remus is already shaking his head, dread filling him at the thought. “No, no, Sirius, you don’t understand.” He pulls away from Sirius, puts space between them.
“I understand you feel guilty.”
“No—well, yes, but—“
“Healer Jones says that’s called survivor’s guilt.”
Remus opens his mouth to continue to voice his misgivings, but then pauses. “Survivor’s guilt?” He asks instead. Sirius rarely talks about his “therapy”, but he had been getting better after he started going, and Remus had found a book or two at the library to help explain some of what Sirius might be doing when he goes to meet with his Healer.
“It’s the guilt you feel at having survived when others did not. The guilt you feel when… when you think it should’ve been you, and it’s your fault that it wasn’t.”
Remus sits with that for a bit, turning it around in his head. Survivor’s guilt, he thinks. It’s strange, how having a name for it makes things feel slightly better, more manageable. He wonders if it’s maybe the feeling he gets when he thinks about Estee, or if that’s a different thing, seeing as it had been suicide he avoided. Then he shakes his head, because that’s not what this conversation is about. It’s about Harry, and although Remus does feel guilty about Harry, that is not why he cannot help Sirius when he finally gains custody of him.
He explains this to Sirius, then goes on to remind him that he is a werewolf, and that werewolves cannot be trusted around children.
“That’s bollocks!”
“Sirius—“
“No, it is! Look, obviously, we’re not going to have you transform anywhere near the kid. He’ll be safe away from the wolf on the full, don’t worry about that. But all the other days, there’s nothing wrong with you being around him then!” Remus opens his mouth to retort, but then Sirius says, “and anyway, you were around Harry loads when he was a baby, I know you were, so don’t give me any of that werewolf bullshit.”
“Fine! Well maybe it’s not because I’m a werewolf, then, maybe it’s because I’m an alcoholic, depressed man who can’t keep a job for over six months!”
“And you think I’m much better? I’ve never even had a job before in my life!” Sirius pauses. “Although, we’ll probably have to work on the vices when Harry comes around,” he admits.
“Sirius—“
“No, look, I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do. I don’t even know where Harry is right now, for fuck’s sake—oh, we’ll probably have to swear less with the kid—“ Remus opens his mouth to tell him to get back on track, but Sirius has already waved it on, “and quite honestly, Remus, I think you would be a great parental figure. Loads better than me.”
“I really don’t—“
“I mean, you had loving parents growing up, so that’s already a step up from me. But that’s not the point.” Sirius leans forward and takes Remus’ hands in his own. “Remus, I’m not going to ask you to parent Harry if you don’t want to. If you just want to be the cool uncle who comes to visit every so often and take Harry on fun trips and teach him cool tricks, you absolutely can do so. But please, please don’t feel like you can’t be in Harry’s life. Don’t feel like you’ll fuck him up by seeing him, or caring about him, because I assure you, there is no such thing as too much love and care. And Harry—assuming he hasn’t been adopted into a family by now—has gone on far too long without love and care, so don’t go depriving him of yours just because you’re afraid you might— ruin him or some other such nonsense.”
Later, Remus will claim he has no idea what had come over him, will plead temporary insanity, that he doesn’t even remember doing it, or the moments before when he decides that he will. But at the moment, staring into Sirius’ eyes, Remus feels an overwhelming desire to kiss Sirius, a desire that eclipses the fear still settled low in his belly, that overpowers the beast denying all of Sirius’ words, that is so strong that Remus has no choice but to lean forward and act on it.
Sirius makes a surprised sort of noise, but wastes no time returning the kiss, lifting his hands—still clasped around Remus’—to cup Remus’ face, and for a great, blissful moment, Remus’ mind goes blank. Nothing exists except Sirius’ lips on his, his hands around his jaw, the scent of his shampoo. Remus can think of nothing but how perfect this is, and how long he has waited for it.
And then Sirius parts from him to readjust and take a breath, and reality washes over him again.
Shit, Remus thinks, pushing Sirius away hurriedly. Shit, he thinks again at Sirius’ hurt face. “I—I—“ he stammers, and watches Sirius’ face shutter close. “No, that’s not—I just—I’m sorry—“
“It’s alright,” Sirius’ voice is cold as he climbs off the bed.
“No, no it’s not alright, because I—I said—and I didn’t—“
“I understand, Remus, it’s alright.”
“No! No, you don’t understand.” Sirius can’t, because Remus doesn’t understand it himself. “I—I want you, Sirius—“ Sirius scoffs, and Remus remembers Sirius’ words earlier and corrects himself, “I love you, I do, it’s just—“
“I don’t need your pity, Remus.” Sirius picks up Remus’ overnight bag and tosses it back onto the bed.
“No, this isn’t pity.” Panic is rapidly rising in Remus’ chest, and the beast inside reminds him that of course this is happening, because Remus can’t do anything right. “This is—I want—I want to—to be a family with you and Harry!” The words tumble out of his mouth so fast they’re nearly unintelligible, but as he says them he knows they’re true. He’s wanted it for months, he knows, but had never allowed himself to even think properly.
“…What?” Sirius asks, pausing where he’d been preparing to leave the room.
“I want… to help you with Harry,” Remus says carefully.
“No, that’s not what you said.” Sirius moves closer, stopping when he reaches the bed. His eyes search Remus’ face, and Remus feels seen in a way that is utterly terrifying. “You said something about being a family.”
Remus swallows nervously. “Er, yes,” he admits. “I did.”
“You want to be a family with me and Harry.”
“I… I do.”
“Then why… I mean, in this family, what… what are we to one another?”
Remus hesitates. “…co-parents?” He tries. Sirius raises his eyebrow. “Look, I—I want you, want to—to be in a…” Remus takes a fortifying breath as Sirius’ other eyebrow raises as well. “In a relationship. With you. If you want.” Sirius’ face doesn’t change. “I’m just scared.” Remus adds quickly, hurriedly, hoping Sirius doesn’t catch the last bit.
Sirius, evidently, does, because he smiles and climbs onto the bed to sit beside Remus against the headboard. Remus doesn’t dare look at him once he’s out of his line of sight.
“I’m scared, too,” Sirius admits, and takes Remus’ hand. “But I want this. I want a relationship with you, too.”
“I think…” Remus hesitates. “I want to go slow,” he says. “I don’t want to fuck this up. Again.”
“Okay.” Sirius presses his arm against Remus’. “We can go slow.”
Then, Sirius carefully lays his head against Remus’ shoulder. Remus’ breath hitches, and he stiffens. “Is this okay?” Sirius asks cautiously, and Remus nods so fast he’s scared his head will pop off.
“Yes, it’s okay. This is… this is okay.”
Sirius sighs in content, and Remus feels what he thinks is a smile against his bicep. The beast inside him is being absolutely bludgeoned to death by the butterflies in his stomach; Remus has never felt like this before, even when he’d been sleeping with Sirius.
“This means you’ll be my New Year’s kiss, right?” Sirius asks, and a bark of laughter escapes Remus’ mouth.