Oranges

“This one?“

“No, not enough windows.”

“Ah, you’re right. It’ll be too dark and depressing.”

“I want one with- what’s it called?”

“Bay windows?”

“Yes!”

Lily, tucked deep into the warmth of the Gryffindor common room, has long abandoned her Arithmancy textbook to instead follow the verbal tennis match in front of her, flicking her gaze between Sirius and Remus, curled together on the couch, a muggle newspaper spread across their laps. 

“You can hang your herbs from it,” Sirius muses, curling an arm around the back of the couch, bicep brushing against Remus’ curls. 

“Needs a decent fireplace, too,” Remus says, worming a ballpoint pen between his lips. 

Sirius watches the movement intently. 

“Mm. For Hope,” Sirius says, distractedly.

“Who’s Hope?” Lily asks, hiding her vague amusement with an elegantly raised eyebrow. 

For the first time in about forty minutes, Remus and Sirius finally look away from each other, blinking, as if they’d forgotten anyone else was in the room.

“My mum,” Remus replies, “she loves travelling by floo. Thinks it’s funny.”

“And she’ll visit… Sirius… in his new flat?” Lily asks, very slowly.

Sirius frowns.

“And Remus, of course.”

“So, you’re moving in together?”

Sirius rolls his eyes.

“Keep up, Evans. Remus and I have been planning our dream home since first year.”

“Together?” Lily stresses, almost desperately.

“Lots of compromise,” Remus says seriously.

“Remus used to want goats.”

“Goats are very useful,” Remus sniffs, “and they fall over.”

Sirius straightens.

“Maybe we can get a goat.”

The next morning, Sirius flops onto the bench next to Remus, very nearly shoving a sixth year boy to the floor.

“If we’re going to get a goat,” he says, missing Lily’s vague wave and James’ furrowed eyebrows, “we can’t live in a flat.”

Remus beams at him.

“Does this mean-”

“No,” Sirius interjects quickly, “no ducks.”

“Fine,” Remus huffs, in a tone that very much conveys a surety that he will eventually get his way.

Sirius digs around in his bag, and pulls out a magazine.

“Where’d you get that?” James snorts, eyeing the flashing centrefold, a colourful array of different interiors, all sprouting helpful ‘tips’ in bold fonts. 

“Stole it off some Hufflepuff,” Sirius replies, flicking to a dog-eared page.

“Look at that,” he says proudly, jabbing his finger towards a picture of a homely looking cottage, with a sprawling garden and large, towering windows.

The disapproving look melts off Remus’ face instantly, and Lily rolls her eyes.

“You found bay windows!”

“It’s got a doggy door too,” Sirius says, shuffling even closer to Remus, and licking his thumb.

“Big enough for Padfoot?” Remus asks, blushing crimson when Sirius swipes a stray bit of jam from his upper lip, lingering for far too long to be entirely amicable, before sucking the remains from his thumb.

“We can always make some changes,” Sirius replies lowly, ducking until he’s a hairbreadth away from Remus’ face. 

“Are you sure you’re not a couple?” Lily demands, ignoring the panicked look James shoots her.

Sirius and Remus jerk apart, coughing.

“Yes,” Remus replies, politely.

“It’s too bloody early for this,” Lily mutters, accepting the coffee James immediately offers, and downing it all in one go.

“I’m just saying,” Lily says later, in hushed tones at the back of the arithmancy classroom, “you act like a couple.”

“Sirius is like that with James, too,” Remus replies, far too measuredly. 

There’s a blush steadily building up the back of his neck, and she sneers at it.

Boys, forever the bane of her existence.

“He does not,” Lily argues, “James does that with me, because we are a couple.”

“And Sirius and I are not.”

“You’re just buying a house together,” Lily says, incredulously.

“Precisely.”

“With the inheritance he claims is as much yours as it is his.”

“James said the same.”

Lily leans back in her seat, and exhales slowly.

In all her seemingly far fetched dreams of achieving the status of Head Girl, this had never been a problem in any of them. 

“How many bedrooms in this cottage of yours, then?” Lily asks Sirius at lunch, while he stares at the entrance hall, waiting for Remus to return from Ancient Runes. 

“Four,” he says, after a pointed prod in the ribs from Lily.

“Seems like a lot, for two people,” Lily says, unable to, or perhaps just unwilling, to back down, even with James slumping over in defeat beside her.

Sirius doesn’t take his eyes off the door.

“One for you and Prongs, the other for Wormtail, and one will be an office for Remus and I.”

“That only leaves one room left.”

“So?”

“So,” Lily stresses, “who gets the room, you or Remus?”

Sirius snorts, as if she’s said something particularly idiotic.

“Both of us, obviously.”

“You’re going to share?”

“Yes.”

“With two beds?”

“Just one,” Sirius says, “two beds would take up too much space. Remus has so many bloody bookshelves.”

Lily’s reply is lost to Remus’ arrival, and Sirius subsequent jubilation.

Two days later, Lily has a belated revelation. 

“They’re stupid,” she says, frustrated and fond. 

James, arm wrapped snug around her waist, hums in agreement.

“I’m disappointed in them. Then again, Remus has always been a bit thick when it comes to relationships.” 

Sirius’ leg twitches in his sleep, and he sinks further into the headboard of Remus’ bed, neck tossed back and his mouth open.

Somehow, he still looks infuriatingly handsome.

Remus, tucked against his side, head on Sirius’ broad chest, sleeps much more placidly, and barely even wrinkles his nose. 

The book they were sharing is abandoned to the side, still open. Something about renovation, and when magical interference becomes too much.

They’d been bickering about it all afternoon.

“When do you think they’ll realise?”

James scratches his temple.

“Well, I’ve heard through Quidditch that Fenwick wants to try his luck with Remus-“

“Really?”

“I know. So, when Sirius pitches a fit and hexes him, all those pesky little feelings might finally come to light.”

“Five galleons on Sirius cracking first,” Lily says.

James grins down at her.

“You’re on.”

Graduation comes far too quickly.

Summer edges in, clinging to the remaining remnants of 1977, and they travel across the lake in the boats, waving their house banners. James makes a speech, condemning blood purity and clapping the loudest when Lily steps in to take over. 

She moves into a small flat with James and Mary, and tries her hardest to forget about the idiocy of her two close friends. 

There was still a war looming. 

“It’s an investment,” Sirius says.

“It needs work,” Remus says, eyeing the dilapidated house warily.

“It’s got potential!”

“It’s got mould,” Remus retorts.

It’s a gorgeous old house, despite how harshly time has rendered it. There’s a certain unique flourish to each window, the beautiful arch of the frames, and the stained glass that catches the morning rays of sun with elegance. 

“This is not what it looked like in the magazine.” 

“Should we start with the garden?” Sirius asks, scratching his head. It’s overgrown, a mess of weeds and ferns. 

“We’ll keep the ivy,” Remus replies, because he quite likes the way it climbs up the brick walls, shading some of the windows.

“If it turns out to be Devil’s Snare, I’ll be vexed.” 

It isn’t any sort of magical hazard, but their garden is a complete forest. In the end, they decide on a veggie patch, some mulberry trees, a lemon tree, and strawberries. 

Lily is dubious when they summon her to their aid, but working with her father during the summer proves incredibly helpful for Sirius and Remus; both couldn’t hammer a nail into a wall.

“Just give it one good hit,” Lily explains, crouched around the half-constructed garden box. Remus furrows his brows, and misses.

Sirius laughs. 

He, predictably, had picked it up rather easily after being shown how to do it.

Remus scowls at him.

“My fingers hurt.”

“Then stop hitting them,” Sirius replies, fairly.

”You’re hopeless, Remus,” Lily agrees, standing up, knees cracking, to brush herself off. “I’ll do it.”

Remus releases the hammer with a relieved sigh.

Lily smirks.

“For a price.”

“You’re dating a millionaire,” Sirius points out, but he doesn’t look particularly troubled as he slides over a large sum of galleons.

Remus, sitting on a slouching counter that trembles even under his imperceptible weight, looks pleased.

Sirius looks vaguely suspicious.

“I’m teaching you the value of hard-work,” Lily replies, “you always pay people who provide you a service, on time and in full.”

“Would offering a house-elf payment set them free?” Remus asks, curiously.

Sirius shakes his head. “It has to be clothes.” He picks at a scab on his hand, frowning. “Besides, there’s such a widespread culture of manipulation and brainwashing that most house-elves would revile any sort of offer of compensation.”

Lily shakes her head. “Disgusting.” 

She turns to Remus. 

“Now, your part of the payment.”

Remus raises one eyebrow.

He checks his pockets.

“I’ve got some lint, a dog treat, James’ bishop piece, and a note from Sirius.”

Lily immediately goes to snatch it, but Remus holds it out of reach.

“I’ll take the dog treat,” Sirius says.

They recruit Mary for the kitchen. Her considerable artistic skill is perfect for the tiles that Sirius insists must be hand painted and mobile. He bans the colour green, and black, but allows Mary total creative control.

Remus had merely asked for it to look pretty.

“The windows are perfect,” Mary says. She banishes the blinds, and a stream of sun drives a pathway through the kitchen, landing on the floor, illuminating specks of hovering dust. “Curtains, definitely.”

She dusts her hands, and tucks her wand behind one ear, glancing between the two shrewdly. 

They both look incredibly overjoyed by the simple concept of tiles, sharing giddy looks and smiling with their teeth.

“I’ll ask Lily if she thinks cream would work. Maybe magenta, too.” 

The screen door claps loudly behind her, and the stairs to the front garden, which used to be peeling with lead paint and rotting, were painted a lovely red, with white curling rails on each side, no longer slouching with melancholy.

“Lily,” Mary calls, striding over, wrinkling her nose at the smell of putty as Lily smoothes over empty nail holes with her thumb. “Are they dating?”

“No,” Lily replies, glancing up from beneath her wide hat. Her face is almost as red as her hair. “They’re infuriating, aren’t they?”

“They’re an old married couple,” Mary snorts, collapsing into the dirt next to Lily, and leaning forward to bury her face into a bare, pale arm. “You stink.”

“Mm,” Lily hums, patting Mary’s head, “want in on the bet?”

Mary pauses.

“How much?”

“No,” Sirius reiterates, firmly. 

Remus curls his fingers into the soft fabric of Sirius’ t-shirt. It’s damp with sweat, and the intoxicating aroma of boy and Sirius is quite distracting.

“Come on, Sirius.”

Sirius turns his head away, avoiding the large, brown eyes gazing up at him. If he looks, he knows he’ll be sucked in by long eyelashes, and the shimmering depths of Remus Lupin’s incredibly unfair doe eyes.

“I don’t trust him in our home.”

Remus rocks on the balls of his feet, craning his neck up to try and catch Sirius’ eye. 

“But he’s apprenticing with his father. He can give us the shiny, hardwood floors that we want.”

“I could figure it out,” Sirius says, shortly.

“You could,” Remus agrees, “or, while he’s inside-”

“Alone?” Sirius barks.

“We could explore the property.”

Immediately, the phantom wag of an oversized dog  precipitates unbridled excitement.

Benjy Fenwick stays for lunch, and it’s enough to immediately eradicate what’s left of Sirius’ good mood. An afternoon of bounding through the grass, chasing rabbits and sticks, listening to Remus laugh, had been ruined by the sight of their old classmate.

“You’ve done a fantastic job,” Remus says.

His dark skin is still flushed from the heat, and the sheen of sweat across his face glows beneath the sun. 

“Ah,” Benjy replies, “wasn’t too much work. The runes were the hardest part.”

“Thank you.” Remus lifts his glass of gin, condensation pooling around his fingers, “it came up lovely.”

Sirius tries hard not to roll his eyes.

“How’s your father, Benjy?” Remus asks, refilling Sirius’ glass without having to ask.

“He’s good! He was happy about this job. Thinks there needs to be more young love with this war around the corner.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to old love?”

 Remus rests a hand on Sirius’ forearm.

“How long have Effie and Flea been together?”

“Has to be over sixty years now,” Sirius responds, grinning.

Benjy floos into Lily’s living room, and tosses over a jingling purse.

“I’d like to increase my wager.”

A simple mould killer from the hardware store rids their walls of the bubbling, yellow stains, and they do most of it themselves, only stopping when the smell of bleach becomes too overwhelming, and Remus ends up stumbling almost headfirst into the wall.

“That’s what you get for wiping your nose with your hands,” Sirius snorts.

“Shut up.”

The fresh air is a luxury compared to the stench inside, and their break will be brief. Before long they’ll begin plastering, sanding and painting. Remus is looking forward to it. He likes the idea of creating their home together.

Sirius intertwines their fingers, shuffling closer until sweat and turpentine is all Remus can smell.

“I’m happy here,” Sirius says. 

Maybe it’s the incredible blue that paints the sky, a backdrop to fluffy clouds that shift intangibly. Or the faded number four on their mailbox, welcoming the winding road that leads to their property. 

Or maybe it’s just them. 

“Me too,” Remus muses.

It feels comfortable.

There’s a breeze, a hand to hold, and the soft presence of friendship.

Sirius deliberates on a couple things. 

The house is at the forefront, the subject of his intense stipulations and judgments. It’s already perfect despite its condition, a fragment of a dream he wished was reality as a child.

A home needed to be everything that 12 Grimmauld Place was not. It could not be dark, or damp, or decorated with decapitated heads (even if Sirius had liked wrapping gryffindor scarves around them), and it had to have a sunroom. The kitchen could not be cramped. The nearest neighbour had to be at least a good twelve miles away. No smog, no traffic, and absolutely no family members crowding a spotless sitting room. There had to be some mess. Which was where Remus came in. Sirius was counting on empty teacups, abandoned books, and finding Remus cross legged on their living room floor, spreading out something obscure he’d found at the markets. 

“You’re being awfully picky,” Lily drawls.

She’s rendering Sirius even more irritated with that pointed look, levelled at him for the last five minutes.

“It needs to be right,” Sirius retorts. 

Lily just shrugs.

“I know.” A pale, freckled hand extends towards him. “But for now, let’s get fucked up.”

There’s a club that’s only about a twenty minute walk from Lily, Mary and James’ flat. Sirius finds himself forgetting about Remus, losing him in the bustle of the crowds, the thumping music and the heavy smell of tobacco.

Until the first club kicks them out, and Remus smirks at him from across the sticky floor of an underground pit, arm in arm with Mary.

James looks incredibly smug as he takes drink requests, claiming he’d pay for a jug and a handful of shots for them all. 

Including Remus.

And Fabian Prewitt, who had quite a notable crush on Remus throughout third and fourth grade. He was leaning against the circular table Remus stood at, red hair a tangled mess.

Lily was gazing furiously at Benjy Fenwick, tucked into a corner with a figure that Sirius assumes is an easily satisfied muggle.

When they all approach the counter for their shots, he catches Remus’ wrist before he can reach for a glass.

“I need to talk to you about the house,” Sirius murmurs.

The crowd splits for him, curving automatically around his tall figure; the darkening scowl across his face a deadly omen. The sea of people is overwhelming, loud, and Remus’ wrist is sweaty in his grasp, his questions drowned by the thumping music and cheering patrons. There’s a single bathroom tucked into the back, the door heavy and sticky as he pushes it open with one hand. When it slams closed behind them, the silence is deafening, a blanket over the cacophony outside. Remus gazes up at him, fingers curling over Sirius’ hand.

“Do you like Prewitt?”

Remus pushes a dark curl off his damp forehead. “He’s alright. Nice bloke.” 

“No,” Sirius scoffs, “I mean are you attracted to him?”

Remus flushes pink.

“I used to be.”

Sirius scowls. 

“But,” Remus adds quickly, “I’m not particularly interested in pursuing him.”

Sirius steps forward, crowding Remus against the wall, half-painted in aegean blue. 

“Who, then?”

“Lot’s of confidence in that,” Remus whispers.

Sirius just laughs, a deep, barking noise that relaxes every line of tension plaguing Remus’ body. He doesn’t wait for Sirius’ response, leaning forward to seal their lips together. 

It’s wet, perhaps slightly messy. But it’s deep and has Remus tangling shaky fingers between Sirius’ firm ones, leaning into his solid body, and hating himself for ever hesitating.

“We’re so dumb,” Remus whispers, watching their saliva break between them as they pull apart.

“Poor Lily.”

Remus snorts. He smoothes a finger over the lone freckle beneath Sirius’ nose. “That’s what she gets for meddling.”

“Should we tell her she was right?”

“Was she right?” Remus asks, tilting his head. “Or is this just a sloppy blowjob in a bathroom that smells like piss and vodka?”

“I think about you all the time,” Sirius whispers, dragging his lips across the shell of Remus’ ear. There’s a notch from when the wolf had got his head caught between an old fence in the forest. “Not just in my bed, our bed, but in our home; when you bring back a new painting, I wonder where we’ll decide to put it. Or what you’d like for dinner. If you’d prefer tea or coffee while we sit on the porch.”

“Tea,” Remus murmurs, sliding his hands over Sirius’ shoulders, his neck and jaw, with gentle reverence.

“I know.”