It had been about two days since Sirius arrived at his flat after the old man’s instructions to do so. Not a very eventful two days, mind you, but two days nonetheless.
Remus had tried to be a good host, making dinner and tea, and offering his own bed up for Sirius. It seemed meek in an attempt to apologize for believing him the traitor. Sirius hadn’t said anything, of course, it was very unlike him not to - although the ‘him’ that Remus knew may not have made it out of the war intact - but Sirius hadn’t said anything, he had stayed quiet and said the couch was fine, and picked at food Remus made with little to no small talk and then handled the dishes after reasoning that it wasn’t a problem.
They’ve both mostly kept to themselves, a lingering sense of uncertainty still incredibly present between the two of them.
During the war there had been stages. Perhaps not identifiable at the moment, but with the benefit of hindsight, there were very clear stages. There was the fresh out of Hogwarts stage, the lovey-dovey-newly-living-together stage, where the privacy of their own apartment seemed like a luxury beyond their wildest imaginations. James had found a place with Lily, and the decision seemed to have been cemented when they had learned of the pregnancy. Peter had made his own excuses, at the time seemingly practical. Remus knew better than that now.
The fresh out of Hogwarts stage was nice. It was an understatement to call it nice. Sure there was a war looming and they had both started working for the Order, but at the end of the day both of them would return to their shared flat and decompress in eachothers arms after sharing dinner. Remus loved that stage.
Then there was the stage of their relationship where they both felt so tired all of the time. Dinners got shorter. Tea was often skipped in favour of watching something on the television together. They still loved each other, of course they loved each other, it was the war. The stress of the war, that’s all it was in Remus’ mind. In Sirius’ too, he’d thought.
The next stage seemed to have begun when Remus had started going on longer trips for the Order and coming home later at night. Dinner would be left on the table with a note every night and Remus would eat in silence and then find Sirius asleep in their bed. Things were okay.
Things were okay. But soon the notes with dinner stopped and Sirius would pull away in the middle of the night rather than relax into Remus’ arms as they slept.
Remus doesn’t know when the next stage started. Maybe they all jumbled together in the end. Their conversations were more brief, only discussing the Order. They hardly ever slept together anymore or had dinner at one table. It hadn’t felt like they were a couple for a long time before Remus actually realized what had happened, and once he had, it was far too late.
Sirius was taken to Azkaban and was announced the traitor. James and Lily were dead. Peter was dead. Remus had no one left but himself, and for a long time afterwards, he hadn’t even felt like he had that. For Remus felt like a ghost trapped in a bad dream.
He still lived in the place chosen by him and Sirius together straight out of school, he still drank out of the same cups, and ate out of the same bowls, and it felt like Remus wasn’t really in control of himself. His grief had put his body on autopilot, to continue living life the way he had been with Sirius for years.
Except Sirius wasn’t here anymore. Sirius was gone, and he was guilty by every wizard’s standards. This didn’t stop Remus from physically pausing when remembering an old memory or accidentally imagining Sirius’ laugh. His greatest confidant, his best friend in the entire world, the only person he’d unveiled his entire self to, was gone in an instant. It felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. It was a different kind of pain than any he’d experienced before.
It took years to really process what had happened. He saw therapists, and tried to talk to whoever had remained from the Order in hopes of them understanding his pain. Nothing really worked but time itself.
All of this was undone the minute Remus saw Peter’s name on the map. It was as if a gear had clicked into place, and Remus immediately felt nausea bubbling up inside of him for ever having let himself believe that Sirius could do such a horrible thing to their friends- to him .
He should have known. He knows that now. He knows a lot of things now that he wished he did back then.
Through all of these stages, there had always been all-consuming emotions. Nothing was ever mild with Sirius. Happiness was fulfilling to the highest degree and bright golden. Love was exploding butterflies and desperation to be close at all times; to sneak kisses in between hurried movements and smile at every joke. Anger had to be bright red and burn to the touch, even when neither of them wanted it to be.
Grief had enveloped Remus like a dark, cold fog. It had taken its grasp on him and refused to let go, to let up, until one day, it just did. After four years, he woke up one day on a rainy morning, and felt okay. That’s how it goes sometimes. You lose people and you grieve them, and you grieve an old version of yourself that you miserably want to return to but can not, and then one day, the intensity of the initial shock finally burns out. And getting out of bed gets a little bit easier, and joy in the little things seems possible again, and there are new flavours of tea to try and new people at bars to meet. The grief never ends. The hurt will return, when he passes by Sirius’ favourite restaurant, or sees a big black dog while walking. It will hurt just as much as the day he found out Sirius was gone, returned with vigour that makes Remus weak in the knees, but the hurt will return less and less frequently, until it doesn’t seem so bad anymore to live life without the one person you’d never thought you’d have to live without.
With all of these emotions, Remus and Sirius had never experienced such wavering uncertainty in their relationship. It was different from the feelings at the end of the war. It wasn’t mistrust, or exasperation. It was hesitation. Where to go from here.
Remus never stopped loving Sirius. That was one of the hardest things to overcome after the war. Grappling with loving somebody who had caused him so much pain. Acceptance took far too long, and now that Sirius was here, in his apartment, here and innocent, Remus’ emotions seemed to be fighting amongst themselves.
Uncertainty in every movement and accidental brush of hands. In every moment of minimal, but silent eye contact. In every interaction.
A quiet Sirius Black was something Remus was not used to. He was still coming to terms with it.
Sirius had told him he wanted to take a shower, and Remus obviously had shown him where to go and provided him with clean clothes. That was two hours ago.
Remus had been on his couch staring at a wall crowded with records, wrestling with whether or not he should go check on him. The water had stopped running about an hour ago, but no Sirius had emerged from the bathroom yet.
He glanced at his watch.
Eight more minutes pass before Remus gets up and forces himself to knock on the bathroom door.
He knocks a second time when there’s no response, and takes the quiet "Come in” as permission enough to open the door.
The man is sat in a full tub of water, knees hugged to his chest and hair damp along his back. This person didn’t feel like the Sirius he’d known many years ago.
And yet, beneath the frail and washed out frame of the ghost in front of him, the barest hint of Sirius had remained. His Sirius, the same man who Remus had loved for nearly his entire life. The one who had taken care of him after so many full moons, and woken him up in the mornings with stolen kisses and lovely words whispered under thick covers.
The one who had given Remus his all, and loved him easily until they had started to lose each other piece by piece. The one who’s eyes had gone from being filled with love and devotion, to mistrust and anguish in only a couple of months amidst wartime. Those eyes had dulled over the past few years, but Remus found them luring him in just the same. Nothing could allow him to stop loving Sirius, not completely. Not anything he did, or anything that was done to him.
Sirius sat in the tub staring forward, and saying nothing, even when Remus entered the bathroom. If he was uncomfortable with his presence, he didn’t show it, barely changing the positioning of his knees. Remus felt a deep ache in his chest, one that had taken residence in his body for the last twelve years and flared up at the worst times.
What had they done to him? The thought made him sick. Remus heard himself clearing his throat before even realizing he had done so.
“Need some help?” He heard himself asking next, in the gentlest voice he could manage. Sirius’ gaze did not waver, although Remus could swear that he saw the slightest nod of his head; only because he was so concentrated on what the other man’s response would be.
He could do this. He could take care of Sirius, like he had done for him so many times before. It was nothing.
And after all of these years, Remus should’ve been reluctant, he should have been resisting the urge to get as close as he possibly could to Sirius, but he wouldn’t. Not when it had been twelve years since he held Sirius in his arms. Not when they had already wasted so much time, and certainly not when there was even the slightest fraction of a chance that Remus could lessen some of Sirius’ suffering.
His feet moved to their own accord, not giving himself any opportunity to even consider the side of his brain that was telling him to stop, to slow down, and wait. Remus had been waiting for far too long.
It was only a few steps from the door of the bathroom to the bathtub. Sirius hadn’t moved at all, sitting half submerged in the bath water like some sort of statue. Remus’ hand slipped into the water, noticing it had gone cold.
He was deliberately slow in his movements, as if Sirius was an animal that could easily be spooked. He turned on the hot water, quietly doing his best to mix it in with the water already present in the tub. Remus heard nothing, aside from the soft swishing of the water, and Sirius’ breathing; the crease in his eyebrows indicating his concentration. He didn’t even realize that Sirius’ eyes were resting on him, until he finished and looked back over at him with a nervous smile.
Those eyes that Remus had loved staring into for so many years, looked so different now. While Sirius’ eyes had always been playful, and gentle with everyone he met, these eyes had seen awful things. They no longer held the same carefree glint that they always had, instead, now filled with trepidation and discomfort.
Remus wished that he knew the right thing to say, he wished that he could take the last twelve years back, and he wished - more than anything else - that he had fought harder when it had mattered.
When he heard Sirius’ voice, softer than ever before, he almost thought that he had made it up in his head.
“My hair… I can’t seem to get the knots out.”
Remus swallowed, and then nodded, slowly taking the hairbrush out of Sirius’ hand without hesitation.
“Let me have a go?” Remus asked, evenly.
Sirius gave a small nod in return, and Remus got to work conditioning his hair. He felt Sirius relax the slightest bit as ran his hands through his hair to distribute the conditioner.
Sirius was as still as ever, letting Remus slowly comb through the many knots and tangles that had gathered in his hair for Merlin knows how long. It took more than just a few minutes, but neither of them complained. Seconds ticked by as they sat in comfortable silence, save for Remus’ soft humming of a song that seemed distantly distinguishable to Sirius’ ears. It only helped to further soothe him, acting almost like an anchor.
Sirius would occasionally let a small gasp out, or inhale sharply when Remus tugged a bit too hard, to which the other man would apologize and loosen his grip, until one by one, each knot untangled with the help of the hairbrush and unfathomable amounts of conditioner and water.
Remus unattached the shower head from its place, and brought it over to wash Sirius’ hair, until there were no soap suds left. He noticed that Sirius’ face had softened, to which he felt his own do the same.
“Thank you, Moony-“ Sirius seemed to cut himself off after realizing he had let the nickname slip, a frown forming on his face, “Sorry, I didn’t mean…“
Remus felt his heart skip a beat. Nobody had called him Moony in a very long time. It felt good.
“You’re welcome,” Remus cut him off with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “Padfoot.”
Sirius let out a shaky exhale, and nodded in affirmation.
Remus excused himself to fetch a towel, but Sirius stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Wait.”
Remus immediately froze with a soft but questioning hmph.
“Do you remember, in school, when you would cut my hair for me?” Sirius asked, fingers of his left hand rubbing on eachother out of habit, or nerves. Most likely the latter.
“I do. Of course I do.” Remus offered him a soft closed-lip smile.
“My hair is so long… and I hate how it gets in the way all the time and I just- could you? Please?”
“Let me find a pair of scissors.”
Sirius seemed grateful at this, and smiled.
Remus did, and then came back and made himself comfortable on the edge of the bathtub. It had been years since they’d last found themselves in this position, but it wasn’t one he would have forgotten easily with the amount of times he’d done it for Sirius.
He took the first strand of hair and began cutting unsurely. The bathroom remained quiet once more as the scissors snipped and the hair fell into the water. Sirius had not given him instructions or requests. He had put his trust in Remus for this, and pretty soon his muscle memory took over anyway.
He was done within the next few minutes, and this Sirius looked a lot more familiar than the one in the bathroom just prior. He set down the scissors next to the sink once he’d finished.
“I’m just gonna grab you a towel, yeah?” Remus explained, a hand on his shoulder.
Sirius wet his bottom lip and nodded once more, looking up into Remus’ eyes. He hesitated before pulling away. Remus sensed some unease, still, which he could not find it in himself to blame Sirius for.
He let out a deep sigh, and then disappeared into the corridor that connected to his bathroom.
Minutes later they sat next to each other on the couch in the living area. Sirius was dressed in a pair of Remus’ sweatpants and a sweater he’d had for ages, one that was a bit big on Sirius due to their difference in size. Remus didn’t have a television, he’d gotten rid of it when money was tight, and never felt the need to get a new one when he could actually afford to. So they sat in silence. Waiting for each other to speak.
And although Remus wished that he could say that after so much time apart, their dynamic had remained unaltered, he could not without it being a lie; his former lover could not look at him the same as he once had, as he did many years ago, when it had been hard to differentiate where one of them began and the other ended. Both emotionally and physically.
Time drained on, the only sound in the room being from an old grandfather clock making ticking noises. Until it became unbearable, and Remus felt like the quiet was going to swallow him up whole.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m so sorry, Sirius.” He began. He was looking forward, rather than meeting his eyes. For what, he was apologizing for, he didn’t know. Nothing, everything, all at once. Neither of them were really to blame for how they ended up; they couldn’t be, surely? War was cruel. War chipped at hope and resolve until only fragments remained; and it tore loved ones apart. But they were children then, how would they have known?
They know now.
“You are?” He heard in response. He could feel Sirius’ eyes on him and almost out of uncontrollable habit, turned his head and nodded. Sirius looked so different, but so unbelievably the same. Remus recognized the look on his face as one of longing, met with sadness. It matched what he himself was feeling at the moment pretty well.
“You don’t know how sorry I am, Remus.” Sirius’ voice was small. “If I could go back, I would do things so differently.”
This time it was Remus that nodded, and any chance of him keeping his composure throughout this conversation disappeared the minute Sirius’ eyes welled up with tears.
“I regret so much." He spoke again. “I should’ve known better. I should have known you better.” Sirius nodded, as if trying to convince himself of his own words. He couldn’t look at Remus, head bowed, with a look of deep sorrow on his face. One that Remus was sure, Sirius had been dealing with for a long time now. The thought of which pained him.
Remus leaned forward and placed his hands on Sirius’ face, slowly lifting his chin, allowing him to watch his eyes carefully. Honey brown met dusty blue with purpose. A few tears had already rolled down Sirius’ face.
“You don’t have to say anything else.” Remus said firmly.
Sirius shook his head at this, and Remus let his hands rest on Sirius’ shoulders.
“I should have been honest with you, and I should have trusted you more. I’m the one that’s sorry.”
A noise resembling a sob escaped Sirius’ throat and he reached up to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. It felt so good to hear those words.
In an impulsive motion, Sirius reached for Remus and hugged him close. Remus did not hesitate to give Sirius what he needed then. Not like he had before.
“All these years… I thought about you every single day.” Sirius cried into his shoulder.
Remus could cry. His eyes welled up with tears.
“There’s not been one moment where I’ve been able to get you out of my head, Sirius. You’re it for me.” He said, stroking Sirius’ hair, who was silent now, minus the occasional sniffle.
“You’re okay.” Remus whispered.
Pulling away for a quick moment, he held Sirius’ gaze with some sort of desperate urgency. “You’re okay, now, with me. I can promise you that, at the very least.”
Sirius nodded in return and gave him a sad smile, to which Remus pulled him back in and buried his head in the space between Sirius’ head and collarbone.
“I refuse to waste any more time with apologies and blame.” Sirius said, his arms tight around Remus. “Please tell me you feel the same.”
Remus did not falter. “I do, Sirius. I really do.”
Sirius nodded and held Remus there, and really, that was all Remus had wanted for the last twelve years. To feel like he belonged to someone again. It just so happened that now he could finally belong to Sirius again.
The same Sirius that he’d fallen for when they were teenagers and hadn’t known what was to come. The one who would do anything for his friends, without any expectation of something in return. The one who he had cleaned off after quidditch practices, and crawled into bed with every night for years. The one that loved when Remus’ hair smelt like vanilla, and would take every opportunity to tell him so. The one who had made him feel more at home than any other person or place ever has. The one who Remus could not stop loving, even if he wanted to. His Sirius. After twelve years, Remus finally felt whole again.
“I love you Sirius. I’ve loved you for years and I don’t believe I'll ever stop.” Remus admitted with a sniff, hands cradling Sirius’ face once more.
"Moony." Sirius said. “I love you, only you. I always have.”
It was Sirius that leaned in closer, and Sirius who initiated their lips coming together. Remus couldn’t feel anything but Love. Overwhelming and completely exhausting yet liberating, love. He kissed him back with fervour and brushed Sirius’ hair out of his face.
It was only now, in the same apartment that they had chosen together years and years ago, that Remus Lupin decided that he did not ever want to live without Sirius Black again.
Something told him that Sirius felt the same.