Sirius Black loved Remus Lupin with his entire being. His heart beat for him, his lungs breathed for him and his body longed for him every minute they were not together. For as long as he’s known Remus he’s loved him in one way or another. Remus Lupin has been a part of Sirius Black since the moments he met him.
When he was eleven he loved him like friend, when he was thirteen he loved him in secret and when he was fifteen he loved him like a lover.
When he was eleven he thought his biggest problems were his mother, his Hogwarts house and whether or not he’s make any friends. Now at seventeen he wishes those were his biggest concerns.
They all graduate in June and Sirius doesn’t know what he wants to do. He knows there’s a war and his family is on either side, Sirius knows that he will follow James, where he goes Sirius follows. He knows Peter and Remus will follow them too.
Sirius knows that the likely hood of all of them making out of this godforsaken war unscathed his slim to none but he hold onto that childhood hope that he never had much of because he knows the alternate is much worse.
In the months before they graduate him and Remus come up with a plan for the future they’ve been dreaming about since they were fifteen. They want a small cottage in the countryside, something small but still big enough to fit their family. The one they’ve made themselves. Sirius wants a motorbike and Remus wants a car.
They want to have a garden, a space for moony and padfoot to play. Sirius wants to have cheese toasties every Friday night no matter what. He wants to steal Remus’ jumpers when he has one of his days and he want Remus to braid his hair every night.
He wants so many things, some attenable- some not. He tells Remus most of these things. He tells him all the things he can manage without breaking his heart. Because he can’t tell Remus he wants to get married the way Lily and James plan to. He can’t tell him he wants to start a family, even if its small. Because he would be breaking both of their hearts. He would be breaking their hearts and their bodies and their souls because even of the world was different it would still never work in their favour.
As they trade dreams back and forth Remus tangles their fingers together the way he’s done a thousand way before. He feels the heat of his palm in his, the way his calloused fingers trace shapes in his skin. He feels the love pouring out of him even if the action is so small and inconsequential no one but them would know.
He looks in Remus’ eyes and believes that even for just a moment and only a moment, that they would be okay and he hopes to every god out there that they will be.
Sometimes he thinks he jinxed it somewhere along the way. He got too comfortable, being happy and safe. He let his guard down and convinced himself he was invincible and nothing could hurt him. He convinced himself that no matter what everything would be fine.
It wasn’t.
It takes twelve years, three teenagers, one werewolf and a time turner for Sirius to be free.
He goes to their cottage, the one in the English countryside, with a big garden and a leaky roof that they never fixed. He doesn’t know if Remus will allow him back. There wasn’t really much time for talking when they saw each other. He hopes he can come back and they can be together in whatever capacity it allows.
He hopes desperately that once him and Remus talk things can start to go back to normal. He knows that things will be different. He’s lived without Remus longer than he had lived with him. There’s twelve years between them. They are no longer the angsty lovesick twenty-one year old’s. They’re in their thirties and have enough trauma to last three life times.
But they’re the only ones left now. So despite everything Sirius has hopes. No matter how small they are.
When he sees their old home he gets more emotional than he thought he would, sometime in the past twelve years he’s deluded himself into thinking he didn’t miss the life they created for themselves. It hurt less that way. To tell himself that he didn’t miss it, that Remus didn’t miss him. That there was no one left to miss him so he didn’t have anything to miss in return.
But seeing their home, their garden and shitty deck chairs he realizes he missed it, their life more than anything in the world.
After getting off Buckbeak he walks the few minutes from the forest to Remus’ front door. He sees Remus sitting on the porch steps, looking cozy and huggable in his jumper and baggy jeans. He looks just as good as he did twelve years ago, better even and Sirius has never loved him more.
Maybe it’s true, what they say about how absence makes your love grow stronger.
Remus meets him half way, they meet by the small row of yellow flowers that decorate the path to their house.
He meets him halfway, and holds out his hand in a silent invitation to Sirius. Sirius knows that Remus won’t hold it against him if he doesn’t take his hand, but he’s waited twelve years to feel Remus’ fingers around his.
So he takes his hand, feels Remus’ calloused fingers against his no longer smooth ones. He feels the small shapes Remus traces onto his skin that he never thought he’d feel again. He feels the love, even if its dimmed and the spark that once shone brightly has dwindled but it hasn’t been put out.
Remus guides him to the front door, hand in hand and Sirius knows that they’re on their way to okay.