Remus wasn’t young anymore. He wasn’t seventeen running around the forbidden forest with a black dog or a big stag with antlers or a brown rat. He was older now, approaching 40 with that same black dog by his side each night, with him on each full moon now that the stag and the rat couldn’t anymore. His bones didn’t pop back into place immediately like they used to, they stayed clunky and painful, pushing on his joints with each step. His cuts didn’t clot as quickly now, a small spell sending the soft skin knitting together faithfully after each slash or cut. The marked skin was tired and broken, allowing red blood to spill for a little too long before he could be stitched up. He knew there was a limit to how many times magic could make them close, the blood crusting, lining his chest with red turned silver scars which ran over his body, mapping it.
The first thing he would wake up to was Sirius’ face, warm and loving though little lines of worry pulled across his skin, despite his attempts to hide them. Three hundred and ninety-four moons. Three hundred and ninety-four times he had torn himself apart, leaving his human form to pick up the pieces in a hospital bed the next day. Thirty-three years of waiting for the next one. Remus’ hair was sprouting greys amongst his mousy brown and he was squinting more as he read. At thirty-eight, the wolf ran less but scratched just as much, even with Padfoot there to play with. So at thirty-eight, Remus was tired and he didn't feel young anymore.
. . .
Today was a Sunday and Remus sat in the living room of the cottage, the morning sun of winter shining into the room illuminating the soft dust particles that floated through the air, unnoticed until they were, suddenly ticking his nose. His soft hair leant over a mug as he sipped his tea and went back to the book he was so close to finishing. He wouldn’t be able to read for much longer, the migraine would surely come, but for now he would read, lost in the words of someone else’s life. Soft steps came down the stairs as a messy raven-haired man (the silver streaks he would deny) came into the room with a sleepy smile on his face. He stole a sip from Remus’ mug, their routine remaining unchanged for the past many years. A soft kiss on the cheek from the man standing elicited a small smile from the man reading as they exchanged whispered ‘morning’s.
The morning grew on as the few hours of sunlight that winter allowed them started to light the cottage. While Remus was deep into the weekly paper’s sudoku, the crossword carefully saved for Sirius, Sirius re-entered the room, towel dried hair hanging loosely on his shoulders.
“How you feeling?” he asked as he settled on a sofa next to Remus. The answer came delayed as his mind was pulled back from the deep concentration on the puzzle in front of him.
“M’okay” he answered, breaking focus on the paper to give his husband a soft smile. “About a seven”. Sirius nodded, reassured by the high score.
Taking off his reading glasses, Remus handed the paper to Sirius who was quickly engrossed by the crossword, as he was each week, scribbling down notes and filling in the easy ones first. Remus leant back, the back of his head resting comfortably on the top of the armchair and closed his eyes letting the yellow sun wash into the room. He breathed in as a familiar line of headache snaked from temple to temple and settled too tightly around his skull.
“Six” he said, sensing the sad frown that had just formed on Sirius’ face. A hand came into his, a thumb gently brushing over his hand. He couldn’t change the ache behind his eyes, but Remus felt the love pouring from the man beside him. After a moment, the hand retracted and the periodic scribbling resumed as Remus fell into light sleep, the only respite his body would allow him.
The late December day stole the light around 3, and the sun began to fade before finally dipping beneath the horizon, projecting soft oranges and yellows into the dozing sky. Having woken up some time ago, Remus and Sirius held hands, fingers, legs and bodies intertwined, as much a part of each other as they were of themselves, as the last bit of tea in their mugs went cold. Sirius read his book, reading glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, fingering through Remus’ hair as Remus sat, half in, half out of consciousness, the joint pain beginning to flare as the day grew older.
With a gentle shake a couple of hours later, Remus woke to Sirius’ voice.
“Hey,” he said, “It’s time. You ready?”
“Yeah” he replied getting up slowly off the sofa, rolling his ankles and shoulders to counteract the curled up position he’d settled into in Sirius’ arms.
They grabbed their coats and headed out the door, Sirius first. He turned behind him as Remus closed the door and offered a hand and a smile. Reaching the end of the street and with a swift crack, the men disappeared.
. . .
They landed on the mossy green floor and Remus looked up at the fading sky barely visible through the canopy above them. Natural woodland had always been best for the wolf. They spent a few minutes talking amicably about mundane things, enjoying the simplicity. They spoke fondly of Harry’s current teenage tendencies and when they would next be able to visit him at Hogwarts, his NEWTs coming up soon.
A grimace came over Remus’ face and Sirius knew it was near time. He took the taller man’s face between his hands and smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows, touching it with his own forehead. Remus gave him a small kiss as his back began to burn. “I’ll see you tomorrow my love, it will all be over soon”, Sirius reassured to Remus and himself, before breaking contact and swiftly changing into a big black scruffy dog. He clung to those words, despite knowing it could never be over. It wouldn’t be over tomorrow or the next day or even in the in the middle of a cycle when he was feeling his best, the next moon would come and neither of them would be able to stop it. He knew Sirius would move mountains for him, but no one could pluck the moon from the sky, no amount of love had the power to take it away. This was Sirius’ greatest pain, because if it could, he would do it in a heartbeat.
The last thing he felt was fur brushing against his legs before his head snapped up, staring the moon in its eye, his other form taking over.
. . .
He woke to the sky, as he usually did. The first thing he’d usually feel was Sirius grabbing a warm blanket and wrapping Remus in it and himself until Remus felt strong enough to apparate to the hospital to get proper treatment for the nights injuries beside Sirius’ limited healing spells. But something was different today, the pain was taking over his whole body. Remus gritted his teeth as he realised the wolf had gone for his legs, shredding them. Padfoot came bounding over, and Sirius quickly transformed into his human form, on his knees, immediately locating the source of blood. Muffled sounds of reassurance came from Sirius.
“Hey, hey you’re okay. Remus try keep your eyes open honey”
“It hurts” he managed to choke out of his raw throat, coughing on something thick and red.
“I know it does, my love, I know. But you’re okay.” He breathed heavily, the cold morning air rattling in his lungs. “You’re okay” he said, again, to himself.
Remus tried to rise his head, his breathing laboured. “It hurts” he whispered, the only thing he knew in that moment. He held the weight of his head by the strained muscles in his neck and glanced the deep look of concentration on Sirius’ brow. Remus knew he was attempting a complex healing spell, one that was needed by bigger cuts.
“Hey, hey Remus.” Sirius noticed as Remus began to succumb to the blood loss. “Hey stay awake. Come on now don’t you go sleeping now, not when I’ve been up all night too. We’re in this together, you and me.” Sirius remarked, always one to fall back on humour. Managing a small exhale of air in way of a laugh to match Sirius faux lightness, Remus tried to force his eyes open. But he had given so much. His body was tired and his mind wasn’t strong enough to beat it, not today.
. . .
The soft sound of distant beeping and doors opening and closing blurred in Remus’ post sleep mind as he slowly opened his eyes, head propped up on two pillows behind him. Slumped and curled in the chair next to him, one forearm supporting his head, the other reaching out on to Remus’ bed, was Sirius, his black-grey hair falling around his face. The lights were dimmed within his curtains, creating a little room of their own, reminding Remus of the dens they would make in their dorm, throwing a large tartan blanket over a couple of chairs and curling up inside. As Remus moved to sit up more easily, Sirius shifted awake, softly smiling and offering a small wave that Remus returned with flat lined smile. They didn’t need to talk about it; they knew it had been bad this month, despite their pretending it hadn’t. Both knew it was getting worse and that Remus’ body was struggling to keep healing itself, as if it knew the same stitches would tear again in just a few weeks time.
Hesitantly, Remus moved the covers that shielded his wounds from him, and uncovered his bandaged legs, spots of blood poking through on his right, where he had badly cut himself. He looked to Sirius but the man wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead Sirius got up, muttering something about getting some water, leaving Remus with little time to think about it before some more potions arrived and he was delved into sleep once again.
That evening, when they finally got home, Remus trudged up the stairs falling immediately into bed, the previous night and day in hospital having depleted his energy. Minutes later Sirius brought a mug of what smelled like honey and lemon, as he always would and placed it quietly on the bedside table for when Remus would want it. Eyes lightly closed, Remus heard Sirius pause in the doorway and turn. He let out a quiet sigh, one that someone without the heightened hearing of a wolf might not catch. He heard the latch click on their door and the familiar soft footfall of Sirius on the stairs.
. . .
Sirius came up later that night, sliding in soundlessly next to his sleeping husband, but he could barely calm his mind enough to sit, let alone sleep. He fell restlessly in and out of fits of sleep before waking again in the early hours of the morning, the sun unlikely to be seen for several hours in the depth of dark that encapsulated the winter months. Sirius made his way down the stairs and entered their little kitchen, lit only by a singular lamp. Dressed only in a shirt, he wrapped his arms around himself, attempting to clear his mind. He felt inexplicably like his younger self, he could see himself, in the early hours of the common room on nights he couldn’t sleep, not being able to just not think. It was the first term after he had left home and couldn’t stop his visions of Reg, left all alone to take the brunt of his mother's wrath. He remembered trying and trying to think about anything else, but it was stuck in his mind. It was similar now; all he could see now was the image of Remus, sprawled on the floor, covered in bruises, joints at a not-so-funny angle. All he could see was the helpless cut skin and the torn tissue. All he could see was pain, and Remus’ closing eyes. He knew Remus was getting worse. He knew he couldn’t keep it up forever. But Remus couldn’t give up; because then Sirius would too.
Remus must’ve heard him come down the stairs as Sirius heard feet against the cold floor join him. Sirius was looking out of the window, and though he faced away from Remus, he knew the man could read him.
After a moment, Remus sighed and began to speak “Sirius, we need to talk about this” he said gently, leaving space for Sirius to reply.
“No.” he started quietly, “No we don’t Remus because you’re okay. You’re home and you’re okay.” He said firmly, though tears threatened his creased eyes as he ducked his head, body curling in on itself.
“I am, Sirius but we both know I- there’ll be a time when I won’t” His voice cracked with the reality of his words. His voice pleading with the man to confront this. He knew they had to. He came behind Sirius, wanting to reach out to him, resting his head on Sirius’ back.
“We both, we both know I’m not going to last forever Sirius.” The man turned, tears tracking down his face.
Sirius' voice strained in desperation. “You can’t give up Remus. You-,” he said, talking with his hands, “That’s not what we do.” He looked Remus in the eye. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He choked out. “You can do it, I know it or I can do more, I can take healer training, you know, I just know that I- I cant, I cant do it without you” he was crying, his words sinking into both of them. His eyes pleaded with Remus as he spoke again, confirming what they both knew. “I cant do it without you”. Remus met him with a hand to his cheek, as if it belonged nowhere else. His face broke as he wiped a tear with his thumb from Sirius’ cheek. He pressed their foreheads together, noses knocking.
“I can’t do it without you, my love. I cant.” He whispered.
A breath and four more words. “Please don’t leave me”.
Remus kissed his forehead fiercely, as if he could communicate all he felt for this man, his best friend, his love, in one action, knowing he couldn’t make a promise he would break.
“I love you so much.” Remus affirmed, willing that to be enough, knowing that it wasn’t.
Salt had dried on both their faces as they travelled back upstairs, their weak frames supporting each other. Finding strength in the support of each other, exhaustion overcame them and they fell into their bed, one tangled body, stress and sleep deprivation winning out. They lay, limbs intertwined, Remus’ arm wrapped around Sirius curled up against his chest. He heard the even breaths coming from the man beside him, as he let his body relax for the first time in days.
“I wont leave you.” Remus spoke into Sirius’ hair, allowing himself to promise, as if it was a choice, as if Remus’ love was more powerful than his lycanthropy, as if his will was strong enough to keep his bones from breaking and his skin from ripping. The man softly nodded, willing it to be true.
. . .
Days passed gently, as the inevitable movement of time does, the moon passed its phases, waxing, waning, the cold taunted Remus, as it did every year, creeping deep into his scars and pulling them taught. Sirius fussed, as he always did, wrapping his husbands in scarfs and hats when they visited the Potters for a small Christmas, fire blazing the house warm to welcome their friends. December closed and January crept on. It was filled with joy. It was love and it was old friendship, and it was familiarity. Remus was surrounded by love, wherever he looked. On this January day, he and Sirius were seeing Lily and James. As lovely as it was, the moon later that night refused to let him rest as the cold wind whipped outside. The four sat in a modest living room in front of the fire, a game of unnaturally competitive monopoly abandoned in the middle of the room. Eventually Remus drifted off and woke a while later, blearily opening his eyes to his three best friends deeply ingrained into a card game in front of him. A record played on quietly, and Remus glanced up, positioning a cushion behind his head to prop up his head. And all he could see was love, how lucky he was to be surrounded by so much care, so much laughter and light. That’s what Sirius was, and Lily and James, pure and utter light.
Sleep overcoming him again, his eyes drifted shut, slipping back into light and comfortable sleep, just missing the black haired man who turned to look at him, a sad smile on his face as he looked upon his life’s love.
. . .
Remus was gently shaken awake about a half hour later, the monopoly pieces tidied and put in the box, cards stacked and fastened with an elastic band.
Sirius’ unchanging eyes gently held his. He had his coat on, and scarf ready around his neck. “Hey, it’s time. Are you able to get up?” Sirius asked, extending his hand. Remus grabbed it thankfully, hauling himself up with a wince.
“Ill just get my coat.” He replied to Sirius, making his way to the small coatroom off the hall to the door, full of various outdoor wear. He rifled through various rain coats, winter coats and wellies to find his own coat, hidden under the others. He slipped on his shoes catching the voices drifting down the hallway from the living room
“Sirius, I can come, genuinely, just say the word”, James’ voice drifted from down the hall
“No its okay, you know he wouldn’t have it. I’ll be okay.” Sirius hesitated, “I’m just, scared.”
“I know, but you’re doing what you can. You’re doing your best, and that’s all you can do.”
“I know.” He sighed, pulling Sirius into what sounded like a tight hug.
“Thankyou.”
“Always. Now go find your husband, he’s probably gotten lost in the coat cupboard again. And call me if you need me, I’ll be right there”
“Thankyou, really”
“Go” he affirmed.
. . .
They were quiet as they walked through the familiar wood, the last hours of twilight staining the sky darker and darker purple. Their hands intertwined, and they stayed quiet, appreciating each other’s company. Remus looked down as their feet crunched twigs and leaves, mud and moss underfoot, which was covered by a thin layer of frost. Sirius was looking up into the sky, the last layer of sunlight lighting his face. A solemn expression settled across his face, something synonymous with acceptance; acceptance of sorrow you cannot wish away. The sun sank beneath the distant line of horizon, as it made way for the moon to rise and the two men walked and held hands, clinging to each other until they couldn’t. They would savour every touch, every hug, every tear, their years together revealing just how vital they were in the other’s life. They held each other up, the kind of support that came from such a crippling form of love. This form of love was special. It stopped at nothing, through the warm and joy all the way until it reached pain and hurt and loss. And it was all they needed, even if it broke them down from the inside. It was painful and it was messy but it was good.
A tug on his hand told Sirius that Remus needed to rest, and so after settling on a mossy patch, he held him, Remus’ head tucked into the crook of his husband’s neck. Silent tears fell down Sirius’ sunken face as another month came to hurt the man he only wished to protect. Sirius’ grip slackened as Remus pulled his head up, in front of Sirius so he was looking at him. He placed a hand cupping Sirius’ cheek and searched his eyes, begging him to listen, begging him to understand the extent of his gratitude.
“Thankyou.” He whispered urgently, fearing any more than a whisper would crack his voice.
Sirius laughed, smiling through the tears falling onto his face, attempting composure. He looked, with his deep grey eyes, and his face broke, biting his lip to stop himself.
“Anytime”, he answered, and Remus laughed too, nodding, knowing Sirius had not just kept that promise for Remus, he had lived it, every day.
They smiled together, cloudy breaths mixing in the still air, foreheads knocked together. Tilting his chin forward, Remus reached out, licking one of Sirius tears away, eliciting a small laugh from the man, the tension of an unreleased breath falling away.
They stayed there, for a while, the contact tethering both of them. He would stay here forever, Remus knew. If Sirius was here, he would stay forever. But the moon wouldn’t wait for them.
Remus’ face, inches from Sirius’ began to line, pain shooting up his shoulder blades and down the side of his leg. Sirius made to move, detaching himself from the other man, but Remus held him there, just for a second. His hands were shaking but his grip was strong, either side of Sirius face. He held his eyes, searching for something, soaking them up, he wanted to remember them, to take them with him wherever he went. He knocked his head against Sirius’, closing his creased eyes.
“I love you” he pleaded, with what, he didn’t know.
“I love you too” Sirius said back, begging for it to be enough.
And the transformation began, twilight passing into night into early morning.
. . .
The moon dipped below the sky and Sirius saw the wolf shrivel, beginning to reform into man. Reforming himself, he rushed over to the broken body, torn apart only just as he had healed from the last time. He wasn’t speaking, his head bobbing slightly as he tried to lift his head from the floor, but he couldn’t. His neck gave out so his head rested on the leafed floor, throat exposed, his mouth hanging open and eyes half open. He was covered in blood, huge gaping wounds across his chest, fresh blooding seeping out of them, broken skin hanging from the edges. He needed help. He needed- he needed to stay awake. He needed to stay.
Sirius mind whirred as he rushed to find something he could do, now aware he was shaking, sobbing as he pressed cloth into open wounds.
“Remus don’t you dare. Remus look at me, lift your head, come on.” One of his wrists was a funny angle, red bruising up his arm and Sirius knew it was broken. It reached for his arm, feeble grip squeezing him arm slightly. Sirius felt for his pulse, the feeble beat fighting to keep him here.
“Open your eyes my love. Please, mon amour, don’t leave me. Stay here.” But Remus’ grip slackened as his features slipped into peace.
Remus woke up but all he could feel was pain. Pain and red. Pain and black. Pain and the sky, blue above him. Pain and the sun, peeking out from the line of the horizon. Pain and blood. Pain and Sirius kneeling beside him. Pain and Sirius talking but he can’t make out the words. Pain and tears. Pain and his broken wrist reaching out for his love. Pain and his grip slackening. Pain and his eyes closing. Pain and defeat. Pain and a distant heartbeat. Pain and numbness. Pain and black.
No more pain.
Tears tracked down Sirius’ face, pooling and dripping onto his shirt. He cradled Remus’ head begging him to say something back, to tell him he was joking, to open his eyes, to see his eyelashes flutter. But his face was still, his head heavy in Sirius’ hands. Sirius’ leant over him, an arm behind Remus back to hold him up as he held him to his shaking chest. He sat there rocking gently as he held the man in front of him.
At some point a voice approached him. He didn’t know what time it was, his surroundings blurred, hearing muffled as he shook and trembled, fingers pressed to face of the man whose blood had seeped into his shirt. There was a warm hand on his shoulder, the voice was crying too, but they held Sirius, as he held his love.
. . .
James wouldn’t let him go back to the house, at first. He ghosted through the Potter’s home, his body weighted, feet heavy. He slept a lot. Sometimes James or Lily would come and sleep next to him, but the warmth from them or the fire in the living room couldn’t make him whole like the man who slotted next to him and tangled with him like vines as they would sleep. His chest was hollow and he drifted through each day, existing but not living. Time didn’t pass laterally, minutes would last for hours and then the sun would be suddenly set. People can’t physically hold grief for long, James had said. The body can’t take it, it can’t maintain it. Sirius knew this, he knew he needed to take care of himself again but until he could, James and Lily would do it with him.
But every time the curtains opened, every time he could fight against the exhaustion of each day to stay awake until the dark, Sirius looked for the moon, a sliver, a wedge, a circle in the sky. Ma lune, ma lune, ma lune, his heart would say with each beat. And if he could, he would pluck it from the sky. He would mould it and make it into the man who moonlight had poured out of, the man that had made him whole. Remus was etched into him, to every cell and inch of his skin. He’d lost him, but he’d always be here, in the dust that comes off books when you haven’t read them in a while, in the taste when you leave the teabag in for too long. He was in the laugh as they played card games. He was the first shoots of spring that grew through the hard ground. He was the forest in summer, evergreen, and the sunlight, dappled on the ground through the canopy of trees above. Sirius knew he would be whole again, because how could he not be when Remus was all around him?
He was love and he was life and Sirius struggled to believe there had been anyone more treasured in the world.