part i
Sirius set out for the West parlor, wondering if maybe he could sleep a while on one of the couches. His bare feet were cool against the July-warmed stone, even at night. He wished he could enjoy this more, like he usually did, with the absence of prying eyes. But his head ached, spinning with thoughts of the ever-looming events that summer’s end promised. There were fall’s many festivals, hunting trips. And among these things, the promise of a bride. He’d be eighteen in November. He’d known what eighteen meant for as long as he could remember. It was inevitable, a pressing weight on his chest. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head: Alliances are needed, Sirius. You’ll be a king one day and you’ll need a powerful Queen at your side. And besides, fall weddings are lucky.
Sirius rubbed at his eyes, huffing as he turned blindly into the room he knew to well, only to find it bathed in a soft warm glow, not dark and quiet like he’d expected. He let his hand drop to his side, taken off guard by the light-soaked walls, and he froze. Because there was a boy there. His heels were coming out of his shoes as he crouched over the softly roasting coals of the beginning of one of the Black castle’s many fires. Sirius realized too late that he’d been standing there too long to make any sort of proper introduction.
Of all the words in his grand vocabulary, his mind decided to settle on, “Oh.”
The boy jumped. He went to stand up too fast and ended up thumping his head painfully against the brick under edge of the fireplace. Sirius cursed at the same time the boy did.
“Christ James, I told you to do the East Wing-“
The boy spoke at the same time that he turned. He cut off just as he saw Sirius.
“Oh.” He inhaled sharply, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, “My Lord. I didn’t realize…”
And Sirius watched it happen, just as it always did. He watched the boy’s back straighten, he watched the front go up.
Sirius huffed, annoyed. He made his way around the sofa slowly, fingers trailing against the plush fabric as he did, “Didn’t realize I’d be in my own castle?”
The boy frowned. He looked like he wanted to narrow his eyes but thought better of it, “Not at these hours. My Lord.” He added the last part hastily, half-heartedly, and a bit heatedly.
“I’d ask you the same question.” Sirius did narrow his eyes. He was allowed to.
The boy looked like he was biting his tongue before he spoke, “I was to light the fires this morning, my Lord.”
Sirius froze, expression flickering, “Morning?”
The boy glanced out the window briefly, “Morning, my Lord.”
Sirius followed his eyes, only to see that it was morning. He blinked at the dawning sky, the world still pink, and cleared his throat, “Oh.”
“Have-“ The boy hesitated until Sirius looked back at him. His expression slightly softer but guarded still, “have you been out all night? Around the castle? My Lord.”
Sirius hesitated, then sighed, rubbing his face, “You don’t have to add that after every sentence.” He pressed his thumbs into his eyes, as if trying to rub the fatigue out, before looking back at the boy. He had flour on his cheek, a bit of ash on his temple.
“Yes.” He looked back out the window, “I guess so.”
He didn’t think he’d been walking all night and yet there was the sun, peaking over the mountains.
The boy crouched down, scraping the iron fire poker back up and prodding at the coals with it, “Sometime on your mind, my Lord?”
Sirius felt annoyance flare up again, “I said-“
But he stopped, words catching in his throat. He shouldn’t admit it—really he couldn’t admit it—not out loud anyways—but, now that he was looking, really looking, the boy was a bit of a beautiful sight. Maybe it was just the firelight, or lack of sleep, but the thought sprang to the front of Sirius’ mind so quickly he just… thought it.
He shifted, clearing his throat, “No.” He meant to turn away, maybe leave, but instead he sat down, “No. I simply lost track of time.”
The fire light made the boy’s eyes look like a a pot of melting amber when he turned towards Sirius, expression forwardly quizzical, “Yes, my Lord.”
Sirius frowned, “Do you not know my name?”
The boy raised an eye brow, “My Lord?”
“Do you not. Know my name.” Sirius repeated, “Is that why you refuse to use it, even upon my request?”
It was still quite dark, but Sirius could have sworn the boy flushed. He turned back to poking the fire.
“You know, you aren’t doing that right.” Sirius continued when he still didn’t answer.
The boy kept poking, not looking away, “I’m not usually in charge of the fires.” He mumbled.
Sirius leaned forward, “No, you see, they aren’t going to stay alight like that. Didn’t you- no, stop, stop.” Sirius swiftly moved to crouch next to the boy, putting his hand over his on the poker, “Watch. You need it to be…” He guided their hands to push the embers towards the center, “Like such. That way the smoke goes up and the heat goes out. See now?”
“I… Yes. How did you…”
Sirius shrugged, “It’s from hunting trips, really. Probably the only useful survival skill I know. Proves I’m not completely helpless.”
“That’s not what James says.”
Sirius did his best to look aghast but it ended as more of a smile, surprising himself, “That’s how you address your superiors?”
The boy looked like he was trying not to smile too, “A moment ago you were begging me to call you Sirius.”
Sirius turned sharply away from the coals, taken off guard. He tightened his grip on the iron. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard his name from a servant’s mouth before. James, his valet, called him Sirius. He had just never heard his name quite like that. Soft, gentile. The way this boy said it… it almost made him sound like a good person.
Sirius continued with the fire, “So the truth is out. You do know my name.”
The boy wrapped his arms around his knees, watching the coals. His sandy hair flopped nicely into his eyes, “Everyone in the world probably knows your name.”
Sirius laughed softly, and he found that it lightened the heavy feeling in his chest considerably, “Well. I think you’re sorely misjudging the size of the world.”
The boy looked at him, features extraordinarily soft in the firelight. Sirius’ heart caught.
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” He said quietly, “It isn’t like I’ve seen any of it.”
“S’not that great, really.” Sirius said softly. It was, but Sirius wasn’t about to say that. He cleared his throat instead, “Well, there’s the fire for you-“
He cut himself off again, this time with a curse. He tumbled back on his heels, the poker clattering to the floor, his left hand burning.
“Fuck-“ He unclenched his fist, seeing an angry red mark already forming across his knuckles.
The boy cursed, “Shit, the coals. I forgot to put the gate up- one rolled out- I- your highness-“
“I’m fine,” Sirius grit his teeth, “It’s just a little hot, I-“
“Oh come off it, that’s more than a little hot-” The second the words were out of the boy’s mouth his eyes were wide, “Oh god. I-“
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the your highness, at the horror on the boy’s face when he’d slipped and spoken to Sirius like a normal person.
The boy pressed his lips together, the hollows of his cheeks pink. He directed his gaze to Sirius’ injured hand, “We should really get something for that.”
Sirius nodded, “You can rouse Pomfrey for me.”
The boy stood, “I think I can help you, actually… if you like.” He offered Sirius a hesitant hand.
Sirius took it. He didn’t even think about it, he just let this boy pull him up, cradling his injured one to his chest, “I don’t even know your name.”
The boy arched an eyebrow, “I’m sure I can help either way.”
Sirius stretched his knuckles hesitantly, then flinched, “What’s your name?” He asked again.
The boy’s face fell a fraction, and Sirius suddenly realized he had been trying to be friendly, maybe funny even, and Sirius had taken it for disrespect.
“Remus.” He said shortly, “It’s Remus.” He turned, leading the way out of the room.
“Like the myth?” Sirius followed him.
“What myth?”
“The Roman one. With the wolf. The founding of Rome, surely you know it.”
Remus glanced behind him, “Sorry, no.”
Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “Didn’t you learn it in school?”
Remus raised an eyebrow as Sirius fell into stride with him, “You’re assuming I went to school.”
Sirius’ steps faltered, “I- oh.”
“Not all of us grow up in castles, not to mention princes.”
Sirius glanced at Remus’ profile as they walked down the servant’s staircase. It was hard to read. He’d been the one trying to lighten the mood that time and, once again, they’d misunderstood each other.
“I didn’t mean any offense.” Sirius offered.
Remus sent him a small smile, “And yet…”
Sirius suddenly felt very aware of his words, his accent, even his attire, all in comparison to Remus. He felt overdressed in his maroon robe, the gold embroidery feeling flashy and unnecessary next to Remus’ plain white shirt, littered with stains from work.
Remus shook his head gently at him as they entered the kitchen, “I’m joking. It’s alright, you didn’t know.” he nodded towards the countertop, “sit there.”
Sirius rubbed at the back of his neck, “I suppose I should have known…” His eyes widened, “I mean-“
Remus rolled his eyes, “Sit.”
“-not that I would assume you didn’t have an education-“
“Sit, Sirius.”
Sirius pushed himself up onto the counter, silently kicking himself. Silently relishing the way Remus said his name. He watched wordlessly as Remus set ingredients out on the counter next to him. Honey, and a lemon.
“Well… this is odd.”
Remus looked at Sirius, “You’ve never seen this before?”
Sirius shook his head.
Remus smirked, slicing the lemon in half effortlessly, barely even glancing down, “Well, you’re obviously not learning everything with that education of yours, are you?”
Sirius straightened a little, almost prepared to snap a retort, but he caught onto the joke this time—just barely. Sirius looked away but smiled.
Remus held his palm out, “Give your hand here.”
Sirius glanced nervously at the lemon, “Won’t that hurt?”
Remus huffed out a laugh, and held out his hand more insistently, “What do you think the honey’s for? It will only sting for a moment…”
For the second time that night, Sirius relinquished his hand.
Sirius watched Remus’ brow furrow as he gently pressed the the cross section of the lemon across Sirius’ slightly blistered knuckles. Sirius hissed, then tried to turn it into a cough. He pointedly ignored Remus’ smirk.
Remus’ fingers were cool against the irritated skin around the burn, and Sirius drew his lip between his teeth as Remus carefully smeared a bit of honey over the aching cut. The thick paste relieved the throbbing to a duller pain.
“Christ.”
Remus wiped his hands on a kitchen rag, “More useful than a Roman myth, huh?”
Sirius scoffed, “I apologized.”
“Is that how world affairs are settled then? Apologies?” Remus smiled, producing a bandage from the same cupboard the honey had come from. His long fingers worked nimbly as he wraps Sirius’ hand.
“This is hardly a worldly affair..” Sirius said under his breath. Remus glanced at Sirius, looking at him flatly, then sighed, finishing the wrap.
“There. If it starts to hurt again, I- or I mean Madame Pomfrey can-“
“I’ll find you if it hurts.” Sirius’s mouth said it before he could think on it, and he slid from the counter.
Remus nodded slowly, “Oh. Right.”
Sirius drummed his fingers on the countertop, looking down at Remus, “Right.”
Remus glanced around Sirius nervously, “People will probably be waking soon.”
Sirius nodded, although he hadn’t really heard what Remus had said. They were standing quite close, “Right.”
Remus seemed a bit breathless when he spoke again, “We have to prepare your breakfast…”
Sirius arched an eyebrow, “Do you prepare the breakfast?”
Remus huffed out a laugh, “I prepare your breakfast.”
Sirius blinked, “Really?”
Remus shrugged one shoulder, “When you take it in your room at least. Which is-“
“-most days.” Sirius finished. He cocked his head slightly, “But how do you know?”
Remus shook his head, confused, “Know?”
“That I’m having it upstairs.”
Remus paused for a moment, as if waiting for Sirius to continue, or to laugh. Then his eyebrows raised very high to his hairline and he let out a burst of laughter, “Honestly?”
Sirius stepped back a step, cheeks heating, “What?”
Remus quickly stopped laughing, noticing Sirius’ offended gaze, “No- No, I’m sorry,” His eyes filled with something that looked like disapointment. Sirius felt that same emotion stirring in his chest, although he didn’t quite know why, “It’s just… you really don’t know how we work down here, do you?”
Sirius shuffled uncomfortably, trying not to jostle his hand too much, “Well…” He tried to think of some excuse, shrugging, “When I come down here everyone stops working to ask what I want.”
“They’re suppose to do that.” Remus points out.
“Yes, but that explains why I don’t know how it works.” Sirius spluttered.
Remus smiled, “Fine, fine… Lord, I’m sitting here arguing with a Prince… James tells me.”
Sirius, fully prepared for a defense again, deflated some, “Oh.” He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I guess I should have thought of that.”
Remus shrugged, eyes teasing, “I guess.”
Sirius found he much preferred this boy to look at him like that than how he had just been, “Education… Education’s not everything, I suppose.”
When Remus smiled shyly at his own words being reflected back at him, Sirius felt something, some wall, crack a little. He smiled.
There was a creak from the floorboards above causing both boys to look up, then back down at each other. They were nearly nose to nose, and Sirius quite enjoyed that he had to look down a bit to meet Remus’ eyes.
“I- you may want to go.”
Sirius nodded. The thought of being surrounded by bustling activity, having to answer why he was down here in the first place, was suddenly very unappealing, “Yes. I should. I-“
The stared at each other, unsure of what to say.
“Well. Thank you… for the honey. Not for the burn.” He nodded shortly, not moving away just yet.
“Oh. Yes.” Remus was breathless again, eyes fixed on Sirius, “Thank you for… the myth. Not for the condescension.”
When he was safe in his room again, the sun peaking through the seam in his dark, heavy curtains, Sirius couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his face; at the eyes that filled his thoughts, at the boy in the kitchen, at the eggs he woke up to a few hours later.
~
“Sirius, you have dinner in a half hour. And it isn’t you your mum kills if you’re late, its me, so, please, if we could just-“
Sirius looked up from the hot water surrounding him to where James was leaning against the doorway, making frantic hurry up motions.
“James, I am naked and thoroughly enjoying my bath so if you could stop staring at me. Also, I don’t know if that statement is entirely correct… I recall being murdered quite a few times. Pass me that cloth, would you?”
James rolled his eyes, reminding Sirius with a pang of his late night run in from just a few hours ago, and more threw it at him.
Sirius glared, “I can have you fired. Turned out of the castle.”
James glared, lying down on the plush bench along the bath, feet by Sirius’ head.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, “For that too.”
James laughed at the ceiling, hands behind his head, eyes closed, “Yes, but you won’t.”
Sirius grinned, then hissed as his burned hand touched the hot water. James raised an eyebrow.
“What happened there, anyway?”
Sirius started, making a show of soaking the towel and squeezing the excess water out, “Oh. Just a burn. Some clumsy-one of your lot didn’t know how to handle the tea.”
James scoffed, “Well, that wasn’t rude at all.”
Sirius blinked, then sank further into the water, sighing, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
James sighed, closing his eyes again, “I know, don’t worry.”
“You seem to be the only one that does…” He grumbled under his breath, images of disappointed and disapproving amber eyes crossing his mind.
James peaked one eye open, “Huh?”
Sirius let the cloth go and watched it slowly sink to the bottom of the large tub, “Nothing.”
James looked at him for a moment longer, but knew better than to push. Instead, he stood, snagging a large towel and laying it in his place on the bench, “I’m getting your dinner clothes ready. You’ve had long enough, get out.”
“Yes, mum.”
“Don’t insult me.” James called over his shoulder.
~
Sirius, despite the torment, sat perfectly still through dinner. He felt like a caged animal that had been trained to do so—especially with guests around which, given the fact that they were the royal family, there was always the nobles and some duke and duchess from god knows where around to dine with. He listened his mother talk politics, he watched his father talk politics—if not in a slightly more slurred fashion and into his whiskey glass. He watched his brother, Regulus, sit there silently, glaring at his food as if it had personally offended. He was only glad his cousins weren’t in town. Well, maybe Andromeda. She never was the worst of the lot at least.
He wished for probably the thousandth time in his life that James could sit at the dinner table with him, or that maybe he could sit at James’ dinner table. He almost didn’t care that it was with the rest of the servants—no. No, he didn’t care. He glared at his mother, shoving a piece of duck into his mouth. He knew he had her to thank for those elitist slip-ups.
As if this wasn’t torment enough, his hand positively ached. Remus’ remedy had long washed off in the bath, and with the dry cotton wrap rubbing against it every time he cut his food, it felt like there was a coal being pressed against his skin all over again. Highly distracting. He told himself he would go to Pomfrey after dinner, perhaps skip dessert for it all together.
That’s what he told himself he would do.
When the time came for puddings and cakes he stood, scraping his chair back and pointedly ignoring his mother’s look.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
He waved his hand dismissively, “Some idiot servant burned me with tea this morning,” The slur rolled as effortlessly off his tongue as the lie did, “I’m going to seek Pomfrey.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, only for a man to open the dining room doors for him. He swept through the halls, hand cradled to his chest, with the full intention of making his way to the castle infirmary. His found his feet straying, however. He took a turn, trotting down the staircase he had taken the previous night, not realizing where he was or what he was doing until he was already hovering in the doorway.
~
Remus all but collapsed onto the stool by the large island, letting the heat still radiating from the kitchen fireplace warm the aching muscles of his back.
“Well, that sorts it then,” Mrs. Potter, the cook, rubbed her hands together, dusting flour residue from then, “Another dinner done right, Remus, hm?”
Remus gave her a tired, half smile, “Right.”
“Splendidly done, of course!” James entered the kitchen, carefully avoiding the various things dusting the table—he was still in his valet tails—as he took the stool next to Remus, leaning over to press a kiss to his mum’s cheek, “Please tell me you saved some-“
Remus pushed a plate of three Walnut cookies towards him. James all but growled.
“You’re a saint.”
Remus rolled his eyes, “Not quite.”
“I believe he was talking to me.” Mrs. Potter chuckled kindly, “I’m off for some tea and then bed. Remus, make sure that fire is out properly before you go up, yeah?”
Remus nodded, accepting a half of cookie James broke off for him. He watched her kiss her son and then exit, chewing in silence.
Remus felt the question rise back to the tip of his tongue, the one he’d almost asked at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Only it was ten times stronger now that he and James were alone.
He cleared his throat, “Um. James?”
“Hm?” James took another cookie, offering half to Remus again who shook his head this time.
“Is… Is the prince…”
James arched an eyebrow when Remus trailed off.
Remus huffed, “What’s he like exactly?”
James snorted a little, smiling and popping another bit into his mouth, “What do you think he’s like?”
“Rather rude.” Remus said before he could stop himself, “I- I just mean. He doesn’t understand much, does he?”
“About us? God, no.” He shook his head, “Barely realizes the things he says sometimes… I suppose that’s where the rudeness would come in.”
Remus nodded, silently begging James to go on. He didn’t know why he was so curious but he’d practically had to will himself to sleep last night, and even then it was restless. Even then a certain rude, condescending prince invaded his thoughts. He’d ended up coming down to make the bread an entire hour and a half early.
“But, that being said and all… he’s not all bad. He’s just…” James shrugged, “he’s sheltered, I suppose. Doesn’t have a clue what the real world’s like. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought everyone got their breakfast served on a silver tray in bed each day.” Remus snorted with him, “But, y’know, he treats me well. If he does say something and I correct him, it takes him a minute but he apologizes-“
“You correct him?”
James waves a hand, “We’ve been together since we were kids, I’m more than allowed.”
Remus nods. James had grown up here. He tried to imagine a younger version of the boy he’d met last night playing with a servant boy. He frowned.
“Why so curious all of a sudden?”
Remus blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, “What?”
“You’ve never asked about Sirius before.”
“Oh.” Remus shifted in his chair, “I. I just- I…” For the life of him, he couldn’t think of something to say. With James still looking at him so curiously, his shoulders deflated and he sighed, “I met him. Last night.”
James’ eyebrows raised to his hairline, “Really? How?”
“I was doing the fires in the West Parlor and he walked in—I think he’d been walking all night… And- and then I burned his hand.” Remus finished miserably.
“You burned his hand? With tea?”
Remus blinked, “What? No. He took it upon himself to show me how to do my job,” fresh annoyance bloomed in Remus’ chest, “and I forgot to shut the gate. Then I took him down hear and wrapped it for him-“
“Jesus, he didn’t mention any of this.” James laughed.
Remus stuttered for a moment, willing the disappointment that closed in, snuffing out the annoyance to dissipate. Why would he mention it? Sirius’ words echoed in his ears.
This is hardly a world affair
“Well. I-“ Remus huffed, “I just wondered what you thought. He started spewing all this shit about Roman myths and what the world was like and he practically assumed I didn’t have an education…” Not quite true, but Remus was suddenly a little furious at the prince. For depriving him of sleep, for the way he spoke, for the way he dressed, for everything he was. Everything he stood for. Everything Remus wasn’t.
James laughed again, shoving the last bit of cookie towards Remus, “Think you need this more than I do.”
“Shut up.” Remus fought the soft smile that played on his face.
James held his hands up in surrender and pushed back from the table, “Alright, alright. I’m going up. You need anything?”
Remus shook his head, “No, got most of everything done already. Just the fire. Might stay down here a while longer. Clean the counter… or something.”
James nodded, rapped his knuckles on the table twice, and set off for the stairs. Remus listened to his footsteps fade, and then leaned his elbows onto the table, head in his hands. He really should go to bed too. He’d had an even longer day than usual, but he was restless, mind working overdrive—annoyingly so.
Another set of footsteps approached from the main stairs leading to the house. He assumed it was a waiter, Peter maybe, and didn’t bother looking up, even when they stopped and hovered in the doorway.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Remus started so hard he banged his knee painfully into one of the pans hanging on a hook under the island. He spun, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet. He tried to ignore how hard his heart was racing at the sight he was met with, the person he had been thinking about since five this morning.
Sirius chewed on his lower lip before offering a small smile, “I keep doing that to you, I apologize.”
Remus finds himself unable to answer for a moment, eyes locked on stormy gray ones.
Sirius shifted uncomfortably, glancing downwards, and it is then that Remus realizes he’s holding his injured hand gingerly against his chest, the wrap he’d given him yesterday clumsily falling apart to reveal his knuckles, looking rubbed raw and worse off than before.
“I’m here fore further treatment.” He says matter of factly, spine straightening, “I’m afraid the pain has returned. Although I’m not sure it ever really left.”
Remus wanted to narrow his eyes at the tone. Sirius didn’t seem to be giving him an option in the matter. Instead, he sighed.
“Yes. Right. Um. Sit there.” He pushed the stool forward with his leg and busied himself with the honey and lemon like before, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel Sirius eyes on him. He took James’ seat, scooting it until he was close enough to rest Sirius’ hand on his knee, his knee that he realized too late was slotted rather snuggly between Sirius’ thighs. He cleared his throat, ignoring the heat that rose on his neck.
“You probably should have come sooner. The skin’s irritated now.”
“You’re the expert, you could’ve come to me.” Sirius pointed out.
“Right, okay, would that be before or after I was making your meals?”
He couldn’t help it. He slipped, the anger coming through. He didn’t look up to see it register in Sirius’ face. When Sirius didn’t retort, guilt started to set in. He rolled his neck a little, trying to stretch out his sore muscles, “Sorry.”
Sirius was silent for a moment longer, “It’s alright… You’re tired.”
Remus couldn’t help the slightly bitter laugh that escaped, “You’ve got that right. Didn’t sleep much last night.” No thanks to you.
“Oh.” Remus thinks he hears a small note of interest in his voice, surprise maybe, “Well. Hot water is relaxing. Might help. Maybe with some oils. Chamomile is-“
“That probably would help.” Remus interjected, only a little heatedly. He shouldn’t say it, he knows Sirius is just trying to help, maybe even make up for his snide comments if what James says about him is true, but he’s tired and confused and restless, “If we had hot water.”
He regrets the words the instant they’re out of his mouth. This time he does glance up at Sirius who, to his surprise, closed his eyes, a pained expression coming across his face. He breathed harshly out through his nose. Remus’ hands stills where they’re holding Sirius’ injured one.
“I don’t mean to do that, you know…”
And Remus’ heart speeds up a little. Because it sounds genuine enough. It’s sent racing when Sirius’ eyes blink back open slowly. He looks sorry, he really does.
“Yeah…I’m catching onto that I think.” Remus says softly.
Sirius’ teeth worry his bottom lip, “Yeah?”
Remus nodded, “Yeah.”
They stare at each other for a second longer, and Remus realizes with a start that his eyes have moved to his lips at the same time as Sirius clears his throat, glancing at the plate that was previously filled with walnut cookies. There’s still a bit of one, the bite Remus had never taken.
“I don’t suppose you’d have any more of those?” He asks timidly.
Remus looks down at Sirius’ hand, which is only half bandaged and tries to finish the job as quickly as he can, “Did you not just eat?”
“I skipped dessert. Hand hurt to bad. It’s really the least you could do since you were the cause of this…”
Remus jerks his head up, fully prepared to fucking bite Sirius’ head off, when he sees the smirk.
He rolls his eyes, not even bothering to feel off about it, and smirks back, “Yes, your highness.”
He’s surprised when Sirius’ face falls, and he looks down to his hand, retrieving it from Remus’ grasp quickly and cradling it back to his chest.
“Sirius.” Remus corrects himself quickly, and relief fills his chest when Sirius glances up once more, smile just beneath the surface, “And yeah, I think we have a few.”