The Paper
Remus woke up with a hangover. His head felt over-stuffed with oxygen and ready to explode, his body was numb, limbs barely moving as he reached for the clock on his bedside table.
It was nine twenty in the morning.
Remus groaned, rolling over in his bed and burying his head deeper into the blanket. He tried to remember what happened yesterday, what triggered him to get so pissed.
Then he heard a clank of pots from the kitchen and it all came back to him.
Remus jumped up, immediately regretting it when his head started throbbing again. Clenching his jaw, he ignored the pain and clambered out of bed, cursing when his leg got tangled in the sheets.
Sirius was here.
In his home.
James and Lily might’ve believed him to be a monster.
Peter might be alive and the real reason for all the horrors of the world.
As quickly as possible, Remus pulled on his pajama pants and ran out of the room. When he got to the kitchen, Sirius was carefully balancing the pots, trying to get them to stay in the cupboard. Remus would’ve laughed, back in the day. Now, he stood at the entrance, watching him silently.
“Fuck!” Sirius yelled when the pots came falling back out. “Goddamn it!” He kicked a pot, then let out a muffled yell at the pain.
“Bore da,” Remus said. It was Welsh for good morning. His mother and he had mainly spoken Welsh with each other; Hope had always loved greeting people in Welsh, and now so did Remus.
Sirius startled, spinning around and grabbing hold of the counter to stop himself from slipping on a small pot. While this could have once been an amusing situation, Sirius’ reaction sucked all the humor out of the world. His eyes were wide, panicked, mouth open in a silent scream, and, even though Remus didn’t know how, his face paled even more.
“Alright, calm.” Remus said, lifting a hand up. Sirius’ eyes snapped to it immediately. He felt ridiculous, as if trying to tame a wild animal. He let the arm drop, taking a step back.
Sirius slowly wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head, eyes closed.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he practically whispered.
“‘s alright.”
Remus looked Sirius over again. He was still wearing his clothes from Azkaban. While they weren’t wet anymore, they were still dirty and broken. Remus wondered if they’d ever been cleaned.
“Did you wash last night?”
Sirius opened his eyes but trained them on the floor, the walls, chairs and the fridge. Anything but Remus, really. “Nah.” He didn’t bother elaborating. Remus didn’t ask, either.
“Right, erm,” he rubbed his eye, “you can go take a shower now. I’ll leave some clothes out for you.”
Sirius’s eyes were staring at a spot above Remus’ shoulder. Then he let it glide over to his gaze and held it. He nodded. Walked out of the room.
At ten o’five in the morning, Sirius and he were once again sitting at the counter, drinking tea and eating.
Sirius was wearing Remus’ blue plaid pajama pants and a brown sweater that seemed to swallow him whole. His hands were almost completely hidden by the sleeves and half of his wet hair was in tucked into the collar.
Breakfast passed in relative silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Both having too much they wanted to say. Instead of speaking, they waited for Remus’ owl to return, stealing glances of one another.
Sirius looked better, in Remus’ opinion. Clean. And he was ravenous. Remus had been afraid that Sirius wouldn’t eat. His therapist told him it was a completely normal reaction to not have an appetite after a traumatic event. He was glad Sirius didn’t seem to have that problem.
Tap tap tap tap tap
Both their heads snapped up, first looking at each other, then to the window. The owl was there, holding the Daily Prophet .
Both Remus and Sirius scrambled up, forgetting their food and drinks, and rushed to the window. Remus opened it up and pulled the article off the bird. Sirius closed the window after the owl had flown out and ran to Remus, who was pacing in the living room, opening the pages.
There it was.
Ministry of Magic Employee Scoops Grand Prize
A picture.
A boy.
A rat on his shoulder.
Wormtail.
Peter.
Peter.
Remus whipped his head up, looking at Sirius. He’d startled again, inching away. Remus didn’t care. His world was lit on fire.
Everything- Everything he’d thought to be real two days ago was a lie. For over a decade, he’d mourned-
He’d-
He-
“Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!”
Remus kicked the armchair in the corner, pressing his fists to his mouth, biting. Hard. He screamed into them.
Sirius picked up the article from the floor. Remus must’ve dropped it. He continued pacing around the room, shaking his head. Peter. Alive. If he survived Sirius’ attack, why didn’t he come find Remus. Why didn’t- Remus could have helped-
It didn’t make any sense.
Nothing made sense.
Remus screamed again, not hiding it behind his fists anymore. He could taste snot and tears and spit.
A hand grabbed his elbow. Sirius stopped him in the middle of the living room, a firm grip on him- firmer
than Remus had expected.
Remus stopped, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks. Sirius’ eyes were wet as well, but no tears had come out. He looked at Remus, eyes open, looking for something.
Looking to see if Remus believed him.
Remus blinked, trying to clear his vision along with his thoughts. If Peter was alive.. then. Then, why wouldn’t he have come to Remus. Why would he hide as Wormtail? Unless.. but-
Why would Sirius want to kill James and Lily?
Just because of his past? His family?
Remus knew better than to assume that. It was hypocritical. He knew better than anyone that your nightmares don’t define you.
Remus closed his eyes, feeling.. he didn’t know. As if he’d won and lost a battle at the same time.
Because this meant-
It meant James and Lily blamed him.
When he opened his eyes, Sirius was still there, still looking. It was the only thing that mattered now. Sirius didn’t kill them. He was innocent.
Remus smiled with pain and relief and gave a nod, synchronizing it with two falling tears.
Sirius’ mouth opened, shocked that Remus believed. Then he launched himself at Remus, arms tight around his waist, head buried into the crook of his neck. He was so fragile, so warm, so Sirius. Even after everything, after all these years, a part of him was still alive.
Remus wrapped his arms around him, pulling closer. He was shaking. They both were. Crying. Sobbing. Laughing. Unbelieving.