Remus
In two strides, Remus crossed the room and took Sirius in his arms.
It was exactly how he remembered. Remus had to stoop a little, and Sirius had to stand on his tiptoes, but it didn’t matter. They both made the extra effort, finally, finally together after months, centuries, lifetimes.
The question fell from Remus’ mouth before he could stop it. “Did you go to the cave?”
“No.”
“Thank God.” Remus’ head dropped onto Sirius’ shoulder. He tightened his grip on the back of Sirius’ shirt.
Sirius smelled like petrol and smoke and baby shampoo. He felt so small now, crumbling in Remus’ arms. The thought of him seeing Regulus again made Remus’ stomach turn, and a second question hung in the air.
“It’s the Auror test,” Sirius said, voice muffled. “He’s my boggart.”
Fuck.
“Will you sit down with me?” As much as Remus’ body screamed at him to do the opposite, he made himself loosen his grip on Sirius.
Sirius collapsed on the sofa, turning to look at Remus. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were tired and sad. “He’s seven. And dripping wet. And scared.” His voice broke on the last word.
Remus sat down next to him. Their knees touched. “Shit, Sirius.”
Sirius’ jaw clenched. “He’s not scary. It’s just… now, when I think of him, I can’t remember him as anything else. He’s always young and scared and soaked and that’s all I see. I can’t remember my own brother.”
Remus felt his heart scrape down the sides of his chest.
He should’ve noticed. He should’ve known.
It made sense.
Sirius had only started waking up from nightmares after they got out of school. The same month as his first Auror test. As the year dragged on, they grew steadily worse, until Sirius refused sleep altogether. He became melancholy and easily angered during bouts of exhaustion, refusing to tell Remus what was wrong. Remus hadn’t understood the sudden change and he hadn’t tried.
But Remus thought Sirius had gotten better after they called things off. That’s how he made it seem— showing up to James’ drunk and raucous, desperately trying to annoy Remus by calling him sweetheart.
Remus chalked Sirius’ extreme extrovertedness up to a new lifestyle, one that had no place for Remus himself. Sirius had seemed happy with Lily and James and Harry. He’d seemed happy in the middle of their group of friends. Christ, Sirius had been to more Quidditch matches this past season than Remus had ever attended in his life.
Remus thought Sirius had gotten better.
But the signs seemed so obvious, now. Sirius’ naps during the day, and how he used Harry and Ron as an excuse. Falling asleep at the river. Falling asleep between James and Alice. Drinking the night before their first day of work. Wandering around in the middle of the night at Remus’ flat. How he never stopped moving, never truly looking around to see where he was.
A different house every night.
How could Remus have ignored it? How could he have missed the neon signs blinking around Sirius’ head that read YOU IDIOT, HE’S NOT SLEEPING!
“You told me you had trouble with the written test,” Remus said stupidly, after a long pause.
Sirius’ shoulders moved up and down in a sad attempt at a laugh.
“Okay.” Remus mustered up all the courage he had. “Okay. Okay, Sirius. It’s alright if you don’t remember.”
Sirius’ stare hardened into quick anger. “I can’t remember my little brother as anything else besides a dead little kid and that’s okay?”
“Yes. It’s okay if you don’t remember Regulus, because I do.”
At Regulus’ name, Sirius froze. After a moment, he swallowed. “Well, what do you remember?”
Remus squinted at the opposite wall. “I remember how him and Pandora used to walk to class. So close that they’d sometimes trip each other. Her white hair and his black curls. You remember those?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I remember when Lily brought me to the Slug Club and Regulus made up an elaborate story about spending his summer in Japan, when I knew all he did was go to Blackpool with you.”
A smile started on Sirius’ face. “He is a good storyteller.”
“He was much better than you,” Remus scoffed. “I bet we would’ve gotten away with double the amount of pranks if we’d somehow roped Regulus in.”
“I would’ve killed him. I don’t think that’s a fair trade.”
Remus quieted, deep in thought. “This one’s more, er… What kind of memories should I say?”
“Anything,” said Sirius, and Remus heard a hint of panic. “Say anything.”
“I remember,” Remus started, “when you and… James, maybe? You hung Regulus up by his robes in the library.”
“On the chandelier?” A slow smile crept across Sirius’ face. “That was Frank and I. James has a soft spot for Regulus.”
Has. Remus glanced at Sirius. “Had.”
Sirius looked down at his hands. “Right. Though I bet James still has a soft spot for him.”
“Most likely.”
“I remember that, though,” Sirius said. “We levitated Regulus as the grand finale. First, we—”
“You put Evan Rosier up on top of one of the shelves!” Remus burst out. “That was terrible.”
“How was I supposed to know he was afraid of heights?” Sirius closed his eyes and laughed.
“You could’ve brought him down,” Remus said pointedly.
“It seemed like a better idea to throw Barty Crouch up there to keep him company,” Sirius said, a wicked glint in his eye.
Remus shook his head and flicked Sirius in the temple.
“Oh, but Reg.” Sirius’ eyes wandered to some far off place. “He looked so funny up there, with his legs kicking all around. He was screaming at me, remember?”
“‘Sirius Black, I’m going to kill you!’” Remus whisper-screamed, pointing a finger at Sirius. “And Madam Pince—”
“Madam Pince yelled at him to be quiet!” Sirius erupted into laughter.
Remus couldn’t help but laugh, too.
Sirius wiped at his eyes, settling back against the sofa. He turned to look at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.”
“Of course.”
They were both quiet, listening to the ticking of the Longbottoms’ grandfather clock. A single lamp sent warm, yellow light across the sitting room. Everything else was cloaked in blackness.
“I’m scared of him.” Sirius shivered and crossed his arms, glancing warily at the dark hallway.
A soft breeze blew warm summer air across the room. A tree branch brushed against the window. Remus and Sirius’ shoulders touched.
“I see him every night,” Sirius said, face set, “and I’m scared of him.”
Remus took a deep breath. “Well, if he comes tonight, I’ll tell him to go find Effie.”
Sirius blinked furiously, looking up at Remus. His lips parted in sudden realization. “I never thought of them being together.”
Remus elbowed Sirius, leaving his arm pressed against Sirius’ side. “Of course they’re together. He’s probably bugging her about something stupid right now. I’d bet good money on it.”
Sirius sighed. He fidgeted for a minute before growing still. “Can I hold your hand?” he asked in a whisper.
Remus held out his hand, and their fingers intertwined.
Sirius’ head dropped onto Remus’ shoulder.
It felt normal. It felt as familiar as their fights and banter and the way they tried to hide love with anger. It felt safe. It felt right.
Sirius’ soft curls brushed Remus’ chin. Remus felt Sirius’ other hand reach out and grab his upper arm, as if Remus was the only thing tethering him to reality.
“I miss you sometimes,” Remus whispered past the lump in his throat.
Sirius was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, Remus could barely hear him. “Sometimes I miss you, too.”
Remus didn’t know what would happen in the morning. He didn’t know if they would immediately go back to their old habits, or if they would stay like this a little while longer. He hoped it would be different. But he didn’t know.
All Remus knew at that moment, as he felt Sirius beside him and watched the doorway for a little brother who would never appear, was that the man who never slept started snoring before he did.