Remus Lupin was a silent sufferer. That is, when he had the option. When his agonizing shrieks that leaked his despair weren't dragged out of him by the unforgiving streams of moonlight that looked so innocent. Remus Lupin was a silent sufferer. So when Sirius went to Azkaban, Remus' tears streaked down his pale cheeks with what appeared to be a stinging apathy. When Sirius went to Azkaban, he couldn't help but laugh. What a sick joke from the gods-- or fate, or Merlin, or whatever the fuck was doing this to him. When Sirius went to Azkaban, he was left to shoulder the weight of his heart on his own. When Sirius went to Azkaban, his screams burst from his chest and his cries bled from his throat with no one to hear them.
If a tree falls in an empty forest, does it really make a noise?
Giving Sirius his heart was an accident. But he didn't believe it to be a mistake until the empty space next to him in his bed was mocking. Until the unwanted tears that he barely noticed anymore trickled down his cheek with no one to wipe them away. He could have sworn it wasn't a mistake when he thought he knew Sirius Black. How wrong he was, he thought. He had entrusted the weight of his heart in Sirius' hands. Sirius' hands, which were more gentle and caring than any others he had held. With fingertips that had brushed through Remus' hair and had soothed him to sleep almost every night for years. With thumbs that had swept innocent tears from Remus' cheeks countless times. With scars and scratches that Remus had traced time and time again until he could draw them perfectly. He didn't mean to give his heart to Sirius until it already rested its full weight so trustingly in Sirius' hands that Remus knew better than his own. So when Sirius left-- or rather, when he was taken away-- Remus' heart was heavier than he remembered it to be.
Even though Sirius took a part of it with him.
Sirius had always been sure to be more than careful with Remus' heart. He knew how rare a gift it was to have the chance to hold it. Sirius valued more than anything the trust hat he knew was so scarcely found in Remus. He only hoped that Remus knew how valued his heart was. Because Sirius' care for it was beyond words. Sirius' heart swelled whenever Remus would fall asleep in his arms, vulnerable to the wits of his own mind, but trusting that Sirius' presence would hush the relentless nightmares that constantly plagued him. Gentle tears tickled his cheeks as they fell from his also-vulnerable eyes and settled into Remus' hair that brushed against his jaw. He didn't think Remus knew of the tears that escaped him whenever he found Remus in his arms, but he did. Remus knew everything there was to know about Sirius. How Sirius would stay up later than Remus, just to watch him sleep. How Sirius would make up excuses to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the window just to protect Remus from its unsympathetic glow. Remus knew everything about Sirius, and vice versa. Which is why giving Sirius his heart was easier than he had hoped it would be. His a-little-too-fragile heart for which he knew Sirius would care with unwavering tenderness. The heart that had been so brutally beaten by the unsympathetic voices in his head. No matter how much beauty Remus thought his heart lacked, he knew Sirius valued it above any and everything and wouldn't risk dropping it. So saying that Sirius leaving to Azkaban was heartbreaking, would be a terrible understatement.
Neither one of them would have believed Sirius was capable of crushing Remus' heart. Remus' heart was one that had already been painted with scars and bruises so when he eventually found It in the hands of Sirius Black, he figured, what's another scratch? But he didn't expect Sirius to drop it. Or crush it, or whatever he did to it. Whatever it was, Remus hated himself for not caring. He hated that he still wanted to have Sirius' hands-- no matter how well-disguised they had turned out to be-- to hold his heart. Because his heart was just so goddamn heavy. So heavy that it dragged down the already-drooping circles under his eyes. So heavy that it sank his shoulders to succumb to the force of gravity, which felt much stronger than it used to, without any hesitation. So heavy that time itself seemed to slow under its weight. Every day melted together, greying under the indifference every second carried.
Sirius was beyond careful with Remus' heart and Remus knew it. But, Remus supposed, gentle hands harm the most. Hands that are easiest to trust wholeheartedly can be the quickest to destroy a heart. Entrusting his heart into Sirius' seemingly-gentle hands was an accident. And later, Remus decided, a mistake. One that he swore to never make again. How could he anyway? He would never find hands as gentle or caring as Sirius'. But after all, gentle hands harm the most.
Finding Sirius Black in his arms after twelve years was something Remus never believed would happen. It was something he hated himself for dreaming would happen. But something that he denied he wanted for those twelve years. But god, was he glad to hold him close again. Their heartbeats synchronized the moment their arms were around each other. Though neither of them ever knew it, the beating of their hearts were never not synchronized. Even when Sirius' had slowed as weakness over took him in his cell, Remus' slowed with it, losing its motivation to beat as years passed.
Sirius hadn't changed. Well, his eyes lost most of their innocence. The ocean blue that they once were had faded to a foggy grey, but feeling Remus hold him tighter than ever, some of the sparkle of his eyes returned where it always belonged. Sirius was thin, not in the same scrawny-but-toned way he had always been, but in a way that as his body lost nourishment, his heart lost incentive to stay strong. He squeezed Remus in his arms nonetheless. But his breath felt the same as it always had against Remus' skin as he whispered 'finally' as he pulled Remus into his embrace. His tears felt the same rolling down Remus' back. He was still Sirius. He was still Remus' Sirius.
Sirius stayed with Remus the first night they saw each other. He had insisted that he could stay in the hostel just above the leaky cauldron, but its floors were rotting and splintering, as Remus pointed out. Sirius was relieved When Remus had, easily, convinced him to spend the night in Remus' apartment.
"Can I get you anything?" Remus asked, closing the door behind him and doing his best to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach as he watched Sirius walk into his apartment.
"No, I'm okay, thank you." Sirius showered, washing away the prison glower that still clung to his skin. The water slid down his skin with a burning urgency to reach the marble floors of the shower, greying as it fell down is back. He had forgotten what warmth felt like. He felt as though he had never known warmth, and instead only ever known the indifference of the four walls that he resented more every day for twelve years.
Upon stepping out of the shower, he found clothes neatly folded on top of the sink counter. He had overlooked the fact that he had nothing. No possessions. Nothing but the memories of his cell that he hoped to wash away with the shower. He was disappointed to find that even though the dirt was gone from his fingernails and he could finally feel the softness of his hair once again, the memory of his cold, damp cell still stuck to his pale, but clean, skin even more stubbornly than the dirt had. He shook the memories away and rubbed his eyes, his rough fingers scratching the lids gently as he did so.
He reentered the living room to find Remus in a woolly sweater with a thick book sitting in his lap and a mug of what Sirius assumed to be tea, resting on the table next to the arm of the couch. Remus didn't appear to be reading. Just staring blankly at the pages as though the words on them were nothing but meaningless scribbles. He shut the book quickly when he saw Sirius. Sirius looked much more familiar now. His skin was still marked by the wrinkles and scars that it had collected in the cell, but he looked refreshed. As refreshed as he could be, considering.
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, sending a few drops of water to freckle the floor. Remus studied him for a minute before speaking, "I didn't think you had any clothes, so I just chose those, I hope they're okay."
"They're perfect, thanks, M- thanks." Sirius stared at his hands, pretending to be entertained by their fiddling.
"No problem." Remus paused, still studying Sirius. "I'll set up the guest bedroom." He stood uneasily, walking slowly toward a drawer that was just behind Sirius. Without meaning to, he stopped in front of Sirius. He was still beautiful. Breathtaking, even with the scars that now accessorized his tired skin. Sirius had always been impossibly pretty and, twelve years later, even after so much had changed, that hadn't. Remus didn't realize the breath he was holding in until it shuttered from his barely-parted lips.
Sirius finally looked up from his hands, still pulling anxiously at his own fingers. His eyes, even though they were greyed, made Remus feel vulnerable. But he didn't know why. These were the same eyes into which he had looked countless times. The same eyes whose tears he had wiped away for years. The same eyes that he had come to understand, and eventually, the eyes he had come to hate, but long to see again. And here they were, staring right back at him. He couldn't speak.
"Moony," Sirius' voice was weak and just barely a whisper. He stood as though he didn't know his own purpose. Before Remus could stop himself, he leaned forward, pulling Sirius into his embrace eagerly. Sirius melted into his arms. Remus' tears, for the first time in over a decade, were accompanied by emotions. For so long he had barely recognized tears when they decided to escape his eyes one by one. But now, though he didn't know what he was feeling, it was something. And the tears streamed down his cheeks with purpose. It didn't matter if he knew the purpose.
The hug was familiar. As if no time had passed, they held each other with an unwavering grip. Neither wanted to let go. The words that neither one had been able to speak weren't important. All that mattered was that Sirius was there, being held in Remus' arms, for which he had longed for years. Remus only started to pull away when Sirius could no longer hold at bay the sobs that had been lodged in his throat.
"Are you okay?" It was a stupid question. They both knew it, but it was the best Remus could think to say. 'I love you' was too forward, and he pretended that he wasn't sure if it was true. Sirius couldn't bring himself to look Remus in the eye. He let his head crash into Remus' chest, the small wool tufts of his sweater tickling his forehead as he leaned into him. He watched his tears darken the wood at his feet. When Sirius didn't answer, Remus rephrased his words. "You're okay now," he wrapped his arms around Sirius again.
Sirius' shoulders shook under the heartening embrace of the familiar boy he had missed endlessly. He couldn't believe that Remus' arms were around him again. He felt the unstable clutches of reality slowly slipping from him, as if his mind were made of quicksand, and he dug his face deeper into Remus' sweater. He realized that it was one he had seen before. One that Remus had apparently never stopped wearing. It was a light brown wool sweater with tufts of wool poking out of every inch, eager to escape. It was constantly hugged by a halo of fuzz that hovered over it. Sirius giggled lightly, lifting his head so that his words weren't muffled by the wool. "You kept it," he smiled weakly, picking at a particularly stubborn piece of wool on Remus' sleeve.
"This was from you?" Remus reciprocated the smile.
"I think I gave it to you on your seventeenth birthday or something," Sirius' smile broadened, no longer so weak. "Wait I think I wrote something on the sleeve." He drew his hands back from Remus' waist and hovered his hands over Remus' sleeve, "may I?" Remus nodded, curious. Sirius folded back just a little piece of fabric, revealing a short tag that was clearly hastily sewn on by a young Sirius. Written on the tag were a few almost illegible scribbles that read 'Property of Padfoot (the boy, not the sweater).'
Remus blushed. Sirius had spent so much time missing his hugs, his kisses, his stupid sarcastic comments, that he hadn't realized how much he had missed the blush that could so easily be coaxed out to paint his cheeks. Sirius smiled bigger, blushing a little, himself. "We were hopeless," Sirius smiled the words out, pulling Remus' sleeve back down over his wrist. He could tell by the stretches in the wool that Remus still pulled at the ends of his sleeves over his hands when he was nervous. Sirius had always found it endearing. His hands lingered on the edge of the sleeve but his grip loosened, unsure of what to do next. He didn't want to let go but he did, assuming it was probably wise of him.
Remus grabbed his wrist hastily; another action he didn't mean to take. He loosened his grip immediately, leaving his fingertips to rest gently in Sirius'. "Sorry," he spoke softly, his fingers twitching as he debated whether or not to pull away.
Sirius locked his hand with Remus', intertwining their fingers and watching their hands lock like long lost puzzle pieces. "Don't be."
"Sirius I-" Remus paused, hoping that Sirius would guess what he was going to say before he knew it, himself. "I'm sorry," he let the words go without realizing how much he meant them. "I'm so sorry," his voice cracked as he tightened his grip on Sirius' hands. "I can't even- I'm so sorry, Sirius."
Sirius pulled his hand away, but only to bring Remus back into his embrace. "Don't be," he repeated. Against Sirius' shoulder, Remus continued to whisper the words. Each 'I'm sorry' tickled Sirius' back and lured more tears from his eyes. He didn't understand why Remus was apologizing. Sirius had always felt guilty. He was the one who should be sorry. The unfeeling walls and unmoving bars of his cell were persuasive. After all those years, it didn't matter whether or not he was truly guilty. He believed he was. "Moony, there's no reason to be sorry." His voice was more frail than he expected.
"I should have believed you. I should have trusted you."
More tears leaked from Sirius' shut eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Remus." Remus held him tighter. "You know that I would never do anything to hurt anyone," he paused, "especially you." He paused again, "right?" With his last word, his voice was meek, barely audible through its own shakiness.
"Of course, I'm so sorry, Sirius I- I'm so sorry."
"Moony, if you apologize one more time-"
"Sorry."
"Moony!" Sirius giggled and Remus did the same. When they pulled away, their arms were still wrapped around each other, as though their bodies knew better than to let them separate for another second. Their eyes locked, but they didn't speak, each as breathless as the other.
Over the twelve years that they had spent apart, Remus hadn't noticed how slow his heartbeat had become. It made sense that since his heart felt smaller, it would be weaker. How could it beat properly when its purpose for beating was locked away? It didn't seem to weigh so heavily in his chest anymore. Maybe Sirius was holding it again. Maybe it would be whole again. Just maybe.
"Padfoot I-" he stopped his words when he realized the ones that were resting on his tongue. 'I love you.' The words fizzled in his mouth like a shaken soda. "I'm sorry," he whispered instead. The three words he wished he could say with no repercussions were oddly heavy. Not as heavy as his heart had been, but heavy nonetheless. Even when he was younger and more innocent to the wits of the world, the words never flowed easily for him. But there they sat, ready to leave him and reassure Sirius, but he couldn't say them. He didn't think he should either.
Sirius heard the unspoken words through Remus' pause. He didn't need to say them. Sirius barely heard the apology. His mind was too preoccupied with the effort to hold back the words he knew Remus wanted to say and he knew he wanted to hear. For Sirius, 'I love you's had always been empty promises. Up until he met Remus, they were just words he'd say to get his mother to leave him alone or to sign off a letter to his brother when he didn't know what else to say. But with Remus, they had meaning. The three words didn't feel the same when they were heard by Remus as they did when they were heard by his family. Because with Remus, he meant them. He meant them more than he could bear. But he didn't say them. He didn't think he should.
He said nothing.
"Do you want to sit?" It took Sirius a moment to acknowledge Remus' words as he did his best to repress the sentence he so desperately wanted Remus to hear.
"Oh uh sure," Sirius smiled weakly.
Remus returned the weak smile and as he drew back his hand, noticed the small bumps that blanketed Sirius' skin. "Are you cold?"
"A little, but it's okay, really."
"Hold on," Remus disappeared behind a dark brown door. In his room, he dug through his organized closet to find a box that had collected a thick layer of dust over the past decade. He blew away what he could of the dust and dug through the contents.
Sirius pinched his skin, doing his best to brush away the anxious thoughts that nagged at his mind. When Remus came back, he didn't mean to smile, but did. When Remus extended his arm, holding an old maroon hoodie in his hand, Sirius stared down at it for a minute before accepting it. "You still have it," his words were breathy and barely held a strain of his voice. He slipped the hoodie over his head. It was familiar. It was warm. It was his. An old hoodie that he hadn't worn in more than twelve years because he had given it to Remus. Some cold morning after a full moon, he had brought it to the hospital wing. It was his favorite; a deep red with an old Queen album cover embroidered on the front. But he loved seeing it on Remus. He loved seeing his cheeks blush-- the same blush that still tickled his cheeks more than a decade later-- as he put it on. And here it was again, as warm as ever. It smelled like Remus. Like old books and vanilla candles. Like the familiarity he never thought he'd feel again.
"Are you crying?" Remus chuckled.
"Shut up," Sirius hugged him again, sniffling against his shoulder. When they pulled apart, neither one separated completely from the other, leaving their faces not an inch apart. "Can I?" Sirius' breath was soft against Remus' lips.
"Sirus," he started.
"I know, I'm sorry, nevermi-" Remus kissed him before he could finish. And suddenly, they were seventeen again. Sirius hadn't left, Remus' heart was still whole. They still belonged to each other and didn't doubt that for a second. Everything was as simple as it would ever be and the future looked so much brighter than it actually was. Their love was just as strong as it would be nearly two decades later, but it was untainted by the unsympathetic hold of fate. Or whatever it was that had separated them for so long.
"I-" Sirius didn't have the breath for another word once they separated.
"I miss you," Remus' lips still hovered just before Sirius'.
"Missed," Sirius corrected him with a smile.
"Missed," Remus echoed.
"I can't even begin to describe how much I-" before Sirius could finish, Remus kissed him again, barely needing to move to make their lips meet.
Eventually, Remus returned to the corner of the couch where he had been sitting when Sirius got out of the shower. Sirius relaxed against the opposite arm of the sofa. "You don't have to sit so far," Remus suggested.
"I don't think I should sit as close as I want to." Sirius smiled at the blush that deepened on Remus' cheeks.
"Go ahead," Remus offered.
"Really?"
"I don't want you to be so far again." A little confused by Remus' words, Sirius scooted closer, finding himself as close to Remus as he could be without touching him. Remus rested an arm on the back cushion of the sofa behind Sirius. "You can lean if you want," his blush turned from pink to red, "only if you want."
"My hair is wet."
"I don't mind." Sirius settled gratefully into Remus' arms. He could have sworn he was a cocky seventh year again. Like his wrinkles hadn't yet shaded his face, like his eyes were still bright and unfazed by fear, like his heart had never been split when he was forced to leave.
"Re, we should probably talk-"
"I know," Remus rested his head on Sirius', speaking into the barely-dry locks of his hair. "But just for now," he wrapped his arm tighter around Sirius' shoulder, "just promise me you won't leave again."
Sirius' heart quivered. He snuck an arm under Remus' sweater, wrapping it around his waist to feel the reassuring warmth of Remus' skin. "Is this okay?"
"Yes," Remus' voice shook.
"I'm not going anywhere, Moony."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
And Remus believed him.