remus has loved sirius since before he knew what being in love meant. it has always been so easy, loving sirius, because it hurt, because it never came too close, because remus could imagine being loved by sirius however he wished. as he swings his arms around sirius, remus knows he will never love anyone like he has loved sirius, like he will love sirius — and little does he know, this promise he will keep.
remus, after sirius, and before sirius again will only love one person again, he will only love gideon prewett. remus’ love for gideon will be a choice, the whole way. their children, a child and a daughter, will be the light of his life as he looses one more love, as he looses gideon. remus will love purposefully, dutifully. he will love everyday, and his love will never truly turn to pain, his memories never truly tainted by grief. remus will love gideon whether when he is reminiscing, staring at an old photo taken by lily or whether when the photo was being taken. gideon, against all odds, against the chaos he has raging inside will anchor remus beyond anything remus has ever recognised to be real.
and yet… and yet, during his seventh year, remus will love both at once, gideon and sirius. he will love them ever so differently, gideon as a choice, sirius as the only thing that has ever made sense. sirius as a constant, a comforting chaos, gideon as an anchor, one to wake all the goodest parts of him.
and so, as it is october, remus swings his arms around sirius. they are sleeping together, as they have since the second year, after sirius figured it all out and got comfortable enough, not to ask for help but to silently demand company and comfort during his nightmares. remus has only very rarely known an empty bed since, during holidays and their rare arguments. remus kisses sirius, his mouth feeling as though it had been made for it all along, more than speech or breath. it’s easy to kiss sirius, because he’s always wanted it so badly he has never made it so that remus would ever be uncomfortable. it’s easy to move against him, on top of him. it’s easy to feel him growing hard against his thighs because even if remus is scared of what it would mean, to give him even this part of him, he knows sirius would not look at him differently for his transness, for his being a werewolf. being with sirius is already being vulnerable enough, being naked enough. remus knows sirius would make him feel good, whether with his hands mouth words arms hugs comfort self. sirius is easy for remus. sirius is comfortable. and so, in the end, a few days before sirius’ birthday, remus gives himself to sirius whole, even the parts no one has ever seen, the parts remus feels, at the time, no one will ever see other than him.
god, remus lupin loves sirius black to the tips of his hair.
hair which he grips when sirius goes down on him. back which he scratches, trying, desperately to hold onto something. god, he loves him so much he could never love anyone the same way ((and so he never does)).
there are, of course, things remus likes less, about sirius.
remus doesn’t like how volatile sirius can be, how he can be gone the next day. remus likes how possessive sirius can get, but sometimes only. he likes it when they’re only the two of them, and sirius tells him he will be the one he kisses in the end, when sirius tells him no matter how long he will have to wait, he will marry him.
he likes how sirius loves him. he loves how sirius loves him, how he makes him feel so whole so understood so seen, so perfect at times. the greatest gift sirius has ever given remus to need see him as a patchwork, piece by piece by piece, but rather to see the whole of him. remus could never be more grateful than he his to sirius, and he doesn’t try after him. there’s too much he has done, too much they have made. they belong to one another in this moment, and this moment feels wholly infinite. remus will remember them, always, the moments. at some point, he will even let go of the bitterness, of the regrets. he will talk of his love for sirius with gideon. he will say how much it meant, and how he is so grateful. how he wishes sirius could move on, give up on them, the way remus had to.
remus likes less about sirius the way he leaves sometimes, or the way he beats people up. remus has seen enough pain he doesn’t want- but sirius doesn’t understand, not necessarily. sirius still gets into fights, and if remus kisses his busted lip better, he still gets scared. for, and because of sirius.
and then, in october, before remus gave himself to sirius, the part no one had ever seen, the part he had planned to show no one, gideon kissed him. he kissed him more than a few times even, held his hand moving though the corridor’s castle. remus kept in mind sirius’ words, that he would hurt him, fuck him and discard him. he tried to believe those words, for how much he loved sirius, but they could never stick, not really.
how lovely it was to be liked so simply, to simply be desirable without having been discovered. remus felt as though he had been made anew, because he had been seen anew. and so he kissed gideon’s cheek, and so he held his hand, and so he slept in his bed, some weeks more than in his own, and little by little, more than in sirius’.
of course, nothing was ever easy : remus had been dealt the wrong cards if he had wanted easy. he hid for a while, until gideon figured it out the way lily had. he couldn’t believe, for an even longer while, that he could be loved. it had taken so long to believe with sirius and then….
i love you.
and he did. remus loved gideon. remus had chosen to love gideon, because it made him more resilient, because it made him that much better. because it was easy to lay his head on his shoulder, to accept his forehead kissed when they had to part after class, his notes during them. because when he locked eyes with gideon talking with anyone else, he could feel it when he was praising him, telling them sweet nothing they had been through together, a last date. because he was reliable in a way, less unpredictable. remus made his choice without ever knowing there was one, renewing it everyday from the moment he knew it himself.
i love you i love you i love you i love you i’m so in love with you it’s eating me up from the inside will you be the father of my children.
it had been easy. after a few years, remus had gotten of testosterone and suddenly there they were. their first child. they had all cried so much, the kid, remus, gideon. they were a family. they had been family, yes, gideon vital to remus as bone, as a foreign organ he had only recognised late on in his life and then… then there they were with there child, with their other daughter, with their two children.
sirius became the first’s godfather. he had matured, yes, but remus could never love him the way he had since he had seen gideon the way he did since. it just… didn’t matter… didn’t make sense. how- how could it ever be ?
and then gideon passed. as had always been known, more or less. constant as he was, as molly had told remus, it was no surprise his recklessness would have caught up to his health, and his health to himself as the whole. at least she was still there for him if he needed, that his children would have cousins, that he didn’t need to worry.
then remus lost james
then remus lost lily
then remus lost peter
then remus lost all that he knew of sirius.
and so remus ran. for years, remus went around the globe with his children and then, abruptly as he had left, he had come back. his first child needed to join hogwarts, and he still had that estate gideon had left for him, in the name of remus lupin and his children. remus had become ever the recluse, and didn’t sleep much anymore, house too big, bed too empty, but there he stayed, ireland welcoming him more than he had ever thought.
deep breaths.
deep breaths.
remus had accepted a teaching job at hogwarts. a closer eye on memory, on his children, on harry. it all made sense really, if not having to leave the house he had so dutifully taken care off for the past four years.
and then…
all of a sudden, sirius escaped.
all of a sudden, sirius in the castle.
all of a sudden, sirius cleared.
with a few months passed, sirius loved again.
oh of course, remus had had to fight off his guilt, when it came to loving anyone else other than his children’s father.
but sirius was sirius, and it had come ever so easily. they had talked, talked, talked, talked and suddenly, remus was sixteen, discovering what love meant. suddenly, remus was seventeen, in love with sirius as could be. suddenly, remus was eighteen, vulnerable and naked as he had never been with anyone else.
and so remus loved sirius, and remus loved gideon. he told the former about the latter, about the thirteen lost years, of the love he had for both and either of them. he loved him so ardently he asked him to stay, never leave his bed empty again. listening to dumbledore’s advice though, sirius left, and so remus went to him. date nights, quite nights, movie nights — remus had sirius catch up on all that he had missed, and he was so happy to be held by this great love again, cross only with the knowledge of sirius’ restlessness. sirius was a wild dog, not an animal to be caged. no matter how he kissed him, made love to him, made him a father to his children, sirius couldn’t live under that regime, and so in the end, decided not to. he tried, and once was enough ; sirius black did not live anymore.
during the funeral, remus starred at both promise rings, now standing on his right hand. both eternities unfulfilled, both loves greater than any man — in his opinion — should have been allowed to know. remus loved both, either, and. remus, until the end, his end, loved sirius black and gideon prewett as he had always had ; his certainty and his choice. his chaos and his anchor. his easy and his worked for, both being either and or. remus loved and loved and loved, and if he had not died through war would have died of the heart to be found in such a heart, too complete from having loved too much to survive long enough.
he often kissed the rings, the way he kissed the headstones or his children’s forehead.
the kisses a promise, always the same.
“i love you”.