Mr. Black

Remus spent most of the winter and early spring making arrangements for after Sirius's release. So Sirius could concentrate on his healing, of course, and besides, he'd always been terrible at these sorts of logistics. During the war, he'd been content enough to kip up under a bridge or break into a vacant house for the night. As if he didn't have a perfectly good flat of his own within easy Apparating distance.

What good's a flat without my best mates, he'd said when challenged on it. And besides, he hadn't wanted to lose the scent of whatever Death Eater he'd been dogging. Truthfully, though, Remus suspected that it came from a certain reluctance to be alone, heady and dangerous when combined with Sirius's trademark recklessness.

Of course, Sirius couldn't do that anymore, pitch himself headlong into whatever came his way. He'd have a child to mind soon; children needed a loving home, schooling, food and clothes and toys. Stability. Safety. Most of which Sirius himself had only known in limited ways growing up, and since his entire adult life had been spent either at war or in prison... Naturally, it fell to Remus to settle such things for Harry.

They'd made a list together, when he first broached the idea, all the things Sirius would want in his and Harry's future home. Lots of land topped the demands. Airy rooms—at least three bedrooms. Windows. All perfectly understandable, given the past year and change of his life had been spent incarcerated or within the confines of the hospital.

Remus had added a few concerns of his own. A Muggle school nearby (Harry'll need friends, Padfoot), which by extension meant at least a small town (unless you intend to grow all your own food, you'll need a store), and thereby easy access to resources both magical and not. Fireplace for the Floo. Recent construction or at least renovations (wouldn't want the entire house to be held together by magic and wishes, would we?)

So, armed with The List and a writ of access to Sirius's bank account, Remus had set out to find a house and then turn it into the kind of home James and Lily would have wanted for their son. Admittedly, it took longer than Remus would have liked, but eventually he found a cottage in Devon that seemed to check all the boxes. Good acreage, no prying neighbors to speak of, and best of all to Remus's mind, there were other Wizarding families nearby with children about Harry's age.

“Oh, right, the Weasleys had another boy, didn't they?” Sirius asked when Remus started in on the specifics. “That's, what, five?”

“Six, actually.” Remus hadn't seen the newest boy since he was a red-faced bundle swaddled in Molly's arms, but he would be enrolling with Harry come first year. “And a little girl, too—Ginevra.”

For a moment, Sirius just stared. He tried to speak, failed, wet his lips, and finally managed, “You're shitting me.”

“I would never,” Remus said, but Sirius's dubious smirk was probably well-deserved. “All right, but I'm not in this instance—”

And then they'd turned their attention back to the house and what changes Sirius planned to make to it. For which, of course, Sirius had made yet another list. Really, the staff here needed to find some other way to occupy his time when he wasn't at his various therapies.

Some made sense: updating the appliances; removing walls to combine a few of the too-small rooms; a couple coats of paint. Notice-me-nots and the standard protective spells that most Wizarding households employed. But then there were complicated locking charms and specialized wards, even a spatial disorientation barrier, and Remus felt the crease between his brows deepen with each item he read.

“What's all this for?” he asked, turning the page around.

“To reinforce the cellar, of course,” Sirius said, “for your transformations.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“According to my wristband, I am,” Sirius said, sporting the same smug smirk he'd always worn when someone walked into that pun.

Remus shoved out of his seat, paced toward the door and back again. “This isn't a joke, Padfoot!”

“I know.” Sirius wiped off the grin, leaned forward in his chair.

“You know how dangerous it can get. I would've expected this from you before, we were stupid kids, but—Merlin, Sirius, someone could have gotten hurt.”

Again, Sirius said only, “I know.”

“Or killed—”

“I know.”

“Or—”

“Moony.” Sirius's hands found Remus's shoulders and held firm. “I know. Look.”

Slowly, he released Remus's shoulders, stepped away. One finger found its way between flesh and band, twisting at the cloth loop until his wrist reddened.

“I've given it a lot of thought,” Sirius said eventually, slowly. “It's safer for other people if you have a reliable place to hole up during those times. And it's safer for you with me.”

“I have somewhere to go,” Remus protested. Sirius, rotten bastard that he was, just cocked an eyebrow. “My parents' place is still standing—technically, it's mine. I could move back to Hay-on-Wye.”

“Really, Moony? Wales?” There went the eyebrow again, sod it all. “You don't want to go back there any more than I want you to, or else you'd have done already.”

Remus sniffed. “Who says I haven't? I do have a life outside of you, contrary to popular belief.”

“Yet you haven't left the hospital.”

Sirius ticked off the evidence on his fingers. Remus had gained weight in the last few months, doubtless enjoying better meals than he had at any time since they graduated. He'd shown fewer scars and easier recoveries from the past couple full moons than Sirius had ever seen him weather. That spoke to restraints or heavy sedation during the change, both of which were prohibitively expensive.

However, he'd worn only the same four or five shirts and pairs of trousers. And they always smelled like the same detergents as Mungo's used on the bedding.

“You've been staying in the visitor's wing, haven't you?” Sirius finished.

Damn.

Remus strode across the room, peered out into the hospital corridor, and closed the door softly. He'd hoped to keep this to himself a little while longer, but Sirius never could leave well enough alone, could he.

“If you must know,” he said, resuming his seat, “I've joined a study here. It's well-compensated, but it hasn't left much time to see to two sets of housing arrangements.”

“All the more reason to settle in with me once I'm released,” Sirius said, and Remus rolled his eyes skyward. “What sort of study?”

Remus gave his best attempt at an indifferent shrug. “Wolfsbane,” he said, though he'd never had Sirius's flair for dismissive understatements. “One year's observation as they fine-tune the dosage and recipe. Sirius, it works.”

The story flooded out: Healer Zheng's offer; the not-insignificant sum he was being paid for his troubles; the complimentary accommodations for the first—and most crucial—six months. And best of all, facing the full moon without the pain or fear he had known his entire life.

Sirius reacted as Remus had known he would, the exuberant embrace and winning smile that he affected to hide his most bitter disappointments. Without a doubt, Sirius was genuinely happy for him. But.

“I won't be going far, you know,” Remus reassured him. “I need to be able to get to Mungo's at least once a week for the trial's duration, so—”

“So you'll stay with us for the year.”

Before Remus could protest, Sirius laid out his case. From a purely practical point of view, Devon was much closer than Hay-on-Wye. Letting Sirius cover the expenses would allow Remus to save up the money he was making from the study while also looking into his own housing, if he was so determined.

There was also the matter that Sirius hadn't exactly lived on his own before, at least not without a war going on. And besides, wouldn't Remus love to see Harry again?

“It's only a few months, Moony,” he pressed. “You said it yourself—the potion works. And you'll be spending the full moon at the hospital, anyway, so there's no danger having you around him.”

He ought to refuse outright, he knew. Sirius might have chosen Gryffindor for himself, but sometimes the Slytherin in him ran deep. One small crack in the resolve was all it took. But Sirius was watching him so earnestly...

“Just until the end of the study?” Remus pressed, and Sirius nodded. “You swear it? Marauders' honor?”

Sirius grinned that wide, toothy smile. “Marauders' honor,” he said, and Remus realized he'd given him precisely the wrong thing to swear by.