Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’d spent most of his life moving from place to place. After he was bitten, Remus Lupin couldn’t remember a time - up until age eleven, when he was allowed to attend Hogwarts - that his family lived in the same house for more than nine months. After graduating, he easily fell back into that habit; moving around frequently was key to making sure none of his neighbors caught onto the fact that he fell mysteriously ill exactly once a month. It was an annoyance, but one that he was used to. By now, Remus had packing up all of his earthly belongings and leaving in a hurry down to an artform. 

This move was the most difficult so far. Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was the most fulfilling job he’d ever had. Living at Hogwarts was the closest Remus had ever felt to having a real, stable home. He had his reservations at first, and even though some of those doubts had proven to be well-founded, it still broke his heart to leave the castle that meant so much to him.

When the new school year began, this office would belong to someone else. There would be new knickknacks, new books on the shelves, new pictures on the walls. The space he had spent the school year carving out for himself would hold no trace of him whatsoever. 

Probably for the best, he thought, closing the lid on his last trunk. He must have acquired even more junk during his short tenure than he realized; all three of them were stuffed to the brim, despite the use of extension charms. Perhaps it was time to consider purchasing another-

“You’re still packing? Just as much of a packrat as you used to be, huh, Moony?”

He had been so lost in his task that Remus hadn’t heard Sirius enter the office. He looked so different than he had the night before; his matted hair had been cut into something more manageable, his long beard trimmed, and his ragged prison robes replaced with a simple, stylish black suit. The sudden change was almost as jarring as his sudden appearance. It was amazing, what a haircut and a change of clothes could do. Harry stood next to him, with his own trunk in tow. The Hogwarts Express was set to leave soon, but he had opted to leave early, with his godfather, slipping out of the castle without making a big scene.

At last, Harry Potter would have the life he should have had all along. 

Sirius made a clicking sound with his mouth, shaking his head, like a father who was disappointed, but not at all surprised. “Really, I don’t know how we’re going to fit all of this in our carriage.”

“ Our carriage?” Remus glanced back and forth between the two of them skeptically. 

“The one taking us home,” said Sirius. “Come on, you didn’t think we’d leave you behind, did you?”

Yes, he did. He wasn’t bitter about it, exactly, but watching the two of them go home together while he was left to fend for himself was the fate that Remus had resigned himself to. When he and Sirius parted ways thirteen years ago, it wasn’t exactly on the best of terms. They had embraced in the Shrieking Shack, but Remus didn’t dare hope that what had transpired the night before meant anything. After more than a decade, Sirius was both his most trusted friend, and a complete stranger; it was hard to imagine where he fit into his new life as a free man.

So no, he hadn’t been expecting to be invited along.

“Well?”

Remus sighed, and shook his head, “I just figured- That you’d made your plans, and that I’d make my own, and-”

“Oh, come on , Moony- This is my thirteenth birthday party all over again, isn’t it?”

“What happened at your thirteenth birthday party?” Harry asked, with that curiosity that Remus had come to associate with him; the sort of curiosity about things that would get him in trouble, rather than get him anywhere with his schoolwork. 

Remus buried his face in his hands, “We don’t need to get into that-”

“I put together a little party for myself,” Sirius began, before Remus had even finished his sentence. Despite the fact that it had been more than a decade since Remus had heard him retell this story, he was surprised to find that they both seemed to remember it, word for word, beat for beat. “Just a little something in the common room, nothing too fancy.”

“You asked the elves in the kitchen to prepare a four-course meal,” Remus reminded him. “With about a dozen different desserts.”

Harry, at least, gave him the courtesy of glancing in his direction, making note of that detail. Sirius ignored him completely, carrying on with the story unfazed. “The entire house was invited, of course, but I didn’t tell poor Remus, personally , that he was, in fact, invited. Didn’t really think it was necessary, you know; we were all best mates. He spent most of the night sulking up in our room.”

“You never explicitly told me I was invited!” It was the point Remus had been arguing for most of his life, even if he hadn’t in over a decade, the repetition meant that he remembered each and every one of his talking points. “I didn’t have any experience with friends and parties! I don’t think it was unfair to assume I was being excluded-”

“He’s always been like that; assumes no one will want him around,” Sirius whispered in a hushed voice to Harry, as if Remus wasn’t right there to hear every word. “It took James and I the better part of half an hour to convince him to come down for cake. I figured he’d learned his lesson back then, but apparently some people never change.”

“Yes,” Remus sighed his agreement, eyes fixed on Sirius. “That does seem to be the case, doesn’t it?”

“Harry, can you go on ahead?” Sirius asked, a brightness in his tone and in his eyes that would have seemed impossible, the last time Remus saw him. “We won’t be long, just a few things to discuss.”

Harry once again glanced between the two of them, more skeptical this time. Remus half-hoped that he would insist on staying, that he wanted to be present for any conversation that passed between the two adults that would be caring for him. He shattered Remus’ hope with a single nod, an awkward smile, and then he was gone from the doorway.

They were alone, and Remus suddenly felt more apprehension than he did approaching the Shrieking Shack the night before. At least then, he was almost certain he knew what he was walking into. Now, standing in front of each other in the daylight, with the truth laid bare, Remus couldn’t even begin to guess what Sirius wanted to talk about.

The list was a mile long, to be sure, and Remus wasn’t without his own catalog of questions. He just assumed he would have plenty of alone time, while Sirius and Harry were settling in and getting to know each other. It was time he intended to use to sort out his own thoughts and feelings.

Sirius took a step forward, and then another. With the desk behind him, Remus could not respond in kind, and soon Sirius was right up next to him, his eyes narrowed, examining him very closely.

Remus swallowed around the lump growing in his throat, and it occurred to him for the first time that after so long apart, he likely didn’t resemble the Remus that Sirius had carried around in his head. Thirteen years was a long time to be away. A long time for Remus to gain new scars, for the dark circles under his eyes to deepen, for him to sprout new grey hairs-

“It looks painful.”

Remus blinked. “What does?”

“This.” Without warning, Sirius lifted his fingers to the corners of Remus’ mouth, pressing gently into his skin. Though, he might as well have punched him right in the gut for how difficult it suddenly was to breathe. It took Remus several seconds to realize what Sirius meant, to remember the rough feeling of rope digging into his skin, where Snape had bound him. Compared to the other injuries he endured that night, a little rope burn was nothing, but it must have seemed like something to Sirius. There was an intensity in his eyes that made Remus shiver, despite the fact that his old office suddenly felt very, very warm. It was astounding, how everything else about the man had clearly aged, in some ways well beyond the thirteen years the two of them had spent apart. But his eyes were exactly as Remus remembered them, just as they appeared in his dreams and nightmares, no matter how much he tried to forget. Hot and cold, passionate and harsh, soft and turbulent, all at once. 

“Dreadful,” Sirius continued, in a doting tone that, once again, caught Remus off guard. His fingers didn’t move. “I still can’t believe he did that to you. Moony, I swear, if I’d been armed, or had the strength for wandless magic, I could have killed him right then and there. Greasy little bastard...”

Remus’ lips quirked up into a smile. “You’d have landed yourself right back in Azkaban.”

“At least that would have been worth it.” Sirius was practically spitting his words now, as if they tasted badly in his mouth, and the hands that had been gently touching his face were now gripping at his lapels so tightly that Remus wondered if Sirius would rip them right off of his jacket. “How dare he lay a hand - no, even one finger on you?” 

He knew he shouldn’t smile - not when Sirius was so angry. But Remus couldn’t help himself. To think, such a vehement defense, after all this time… “Sirius, it’s alright-”

“It’s not alright!” Sirius shouted, pushing himself away. He began pacing, the way he always used to do, while attempting to cope with a strong emotion. He really hadn’t changed much at all, had he? “Merlin’s bloody ballsack, would it kill you to be half as angry at him as I am? He tried to have us both killed last night! If Snivellus had his way, we’d be dead, and Wormtail would still be a free man!”

Remus brought his own fingers to the corner of his mouth, where Sirius had touched him only moments ago. “It’s not that I’m not angry.”

Sirius stopped in his tracks, and when their eyes met again, his mood had shifted completely. Now, he looked wicked, gleeful, when he smiled a dangerous, toothy smile. “Then let’s do something about it.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Remus could see the gears turning behind Sirius’ eyes. “He’s got to have an office here, doesn’t he?” 

Remus nodded. “In the dungeons. Slughorn’s old office.”

“Do you still have the map?”

“Yes.”

“And the cloak?”

“Yes.”

Sirius grinned, and Remus felt his heart jump into the back of his throat. Just like it used to do, when Sirius would look at him like that. Or in any way, really; his heart wasn’t at all picky when it came to Sirius Black. 

"Then what are we waiting for? Give me the cloak, Moony - if we hurry we can be in and out before he's done with breakfast!"

"There's no way we'll both fit under it." Remus said, though that didn't stop him from retrieving both the cloak and the map from a nearby trunk. He had intended to give them both back to Harry before departing Hogwarts, but that wasn't in the cards, and with his new living arrangement, he would have plenty of other opportunities to sow the seeds of mischief in the younger generation. 

"You're not the one I'm worried about. You work here, as crazy as that still sounds to me."

Remus wasn’t sure what stung more: the possibility that Sirius didn't think he was capable of doing the only job he'd ever loved, or the reminder that he really was ill suited for it. "Not anymore I don't."

"That's not exactly public knowledge yet, is it? Students will expect to see you walking around. Me, on the other hand - I'm still the horrible monster their parents told them about to frighten them into behaving. I’m bound to attract more attention than you."

"You think very highly of yourself, don't you?" 

Sirius barked out a laugh, snatching the cloak from Remus’ arms. “Something like that. Come on then, we’ll have to get this done before Harry gets suspicious and comes looking for us.”

Remus felt out of place the second they stepped out of his office. Based on the mixed reactions from the various students they passed in the hallway, the fact that he had resigned his position, and the reasoning behind that decision, hadn’t reached every nosy ear just yet. He received a mixed bag of smiles and gentle waves, polite good morning, Professor Lupin s, and quickly broken eye-contact and hushed whispers as soon as they believed their now ex-teacher could no longer hear them.

Far from his worst departure, but it was still one of the most painful.

Remus had to give credit where credit was due: Sirius managed to remain very quiet during the entire trip. Remus had to listen very, very carefully to even hear the other man’s footsteps, even though he knew Sirius was right next to him. 

The silence, of course, was broken the second Snape’s office door was closed behind them. Sirius shucked off the invisibility cloak in a glamorous display, grinning that horrible grin of his, and Remus knew what was coming before the words slipped past his lips.

“ Professor Lupin -”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Tease me.”

Sirius shrugged, heading immediately for the nearest shelf. “I wasn’t teasing you. Alright, maybe I was, but I think it suits you quite nicely, actually. Keep an eye on the map, will you?”

Remus pulled the Marauders Map out of his pocket, along with his wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

It was a relief to watch the map unfold in front of him and find that Snape was still in the dining hall. There were very few people in the dungeons at all, in fact; a few Slytherin students sleeping in, two more loitering around a little nook that Remus remembered as a popular couples’ rendezvous spot-

Before he could get too nostalgic, about any time he spent there personally, and who he spent that time with, Remus Sirius pulled Remus from his thoughts, by plucking his wand from his hands. “Mind if I borrow this for a bit? Still don’t have one of my own.”

Remus hesitated. “What did you have in mind, exactly?”

“If you were going to get cold feet, you should have said something before we got all the way down here.” Sirius rolled up his sleeves, careful and neat, as if he were about to take on a task far more important than a prank on an old schoolyard enemy. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Professor, I’m not going to hurt the ugly bastard, even if he does deserve it. You just keep watch on the map, will you?”

Pretty little head, huh? He knew Sirius didn’t mean it, not really, and looking down at the map was a great way to hide the fact that he was blushing anyway. “Fine, fine.”

“Thank you, Moony.”

He sounded so sincere when he said it. Remus felt his face grow even warmer, and he forced himself to focus on the map in front of him, trying not to think too hard about the exposed skin of Sirius’ arms when he rolled his sleeves up, and how some of those tattoos were definitely new, since the last time Remus saw him. He refused to let his mind linger on the fact that his eyes could still sparkle like that even after twelve years of imprisonment in Azkaban, and least of all, Remus tried not to think about how much he hated himself for how the way Sirius called him Professor made something stir deep in his chest.

Thankfully, at least for the time being, he wouldn’t have to think about it for too long. He couldn’t have been watching the map for more than five minutes before it hit him; a dank, sour smell so overpowering that Remus gagged.

Wet dog.

Sirius laughed, deep and hearty, and even though the sound was weak, as though he were out of practice, his face betrayed nothing but utter happiness. “Whew!”

Remus waved his hand back and forth in front of his nose, hoping to clear some air for himself to breathe, but to no avail. “It’s so strong.”

“Aw, that’s too bad; I was going for subtle.” If his tone hadn’t given away his blatant lie, the wink that followed sure did. He tucked Remus’ wand back into the pocket of his blazer, and continued to stand far too close, as he examined the map himself. “Is the coast clear?”

Remus nodded, “Snape is still at breakfast.”

“Perfect,” Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, before retreating under the invisibility cloak once again. “Well done as always, Moony. Still the best partner in crime a man could ask for.”

Leaving the dungeon was just as easy. Easier, in fact; with breakfast in full swing, the halls of Hogwarts were almost eerily empty. Sirius probably could have gone without the invisibility cloak, which he haphazardly folded and handed back to Remus as soon as they were safe and sound back in his office.

Former office, Remus corrected himself, eyeing his trunks. He put the map and the cloak back into storage. He planned to return both items to Harry before the next term, but until then they would remain unceremoniously stuffed into one of his trunks.

Sirius was surprisingly strong for someone so gaunt and thin. He was able to load two of the trunks onto the dolly cart with what appeared to be little effort - even with the effects of the extension charms, Remus knew that it was no small task. He half expected Sirius to play the role of a gentleman and push the dolly to the carriage as well, but when Remus turned around for just a moment to fetch the briefcase from his desk, it was Padfoot, not Sirius, waiting for him.

Should have known better, he thought, scratching the dog behind the ears as he took one final look around. Part of him knew from the start that it wouldn’t last. Nice things rarely did, for people like him-

A wet tongue against his hand pulled Remus from his depressing train of thought. He grimaced, shook off the slobber, and retrieved the dolly. “Impatient as ever, I see.”

Padfoot barked in response. It made sense that Sirius would want to make his exit as a dog, for all the reasons he wanted to sneak down to Snape’s office under the invisibility cloak; even as an innocent man, his presence was likely to cause a commotion that neither of them wanted. 

That, Remus realized, as he secured his baggage to the back of the carriage, next to Harry’s lone trunk, had changed. Sirius used to be the extrovert, the one with the dramatic flare, the one who absorbed attention like a sponge, good and bad. As quickly as they were falling into their old dynamics and habits, growing pains were inevitable. Hopefully, their friendship would survive them.

It wasn’t until Remus was seated in the carriage, that he looked up at Harry; he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the young man’s bright, excited smile wasn’t what he thought he would find. 

We’re both going home , Remus realized, returning that smile. The home we’ve been missing all this time.

“Sorry,” Sirius apologized, as he settled into his own seat; next to Remus, and just a little too close. “Sorry, Harry; that last minute business took a bit longer than expected.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” Harry appeared completely unbothered by the wait, his smile not wavering for even a moment. “What were you doing, anyhow?”

Before Remus could come up with a quick explanation, Sirius reached into his jacket pocket. Slowly, he revealed a large bottle of murky blue liquid. “Had to pick up some of this for our favorite professor.”

The Wolfsbane Potion. Remus felt his stomach drop. “Sirius-”

“What? It’s not like Snape’s got any use for it.”

“That’s not the point! He’s going to know it was the two of us who broke into his office!”

Harry’s face lit up; Remus hadn’t seen him look so pleased since he was able to successfully cast a Patronus for the first time. “You broke into Snape’s office?”

Remus buried his face in his hands. “We’re off to a great start, aren’t we? Some guardians we are-”

“He’d blame us for it regardless, so what’s the harm?”

“And he would be right to blame is, because we did it- ”

“I thought you said you were angry with him.”

“I am,” Remus mumbled into his hands.

Harry cleared his throat. “He is the one who told everyone that you’re a werewolf. I’d say he owes you this much, at the very least.”

Remus looked at Harry through the gap in his fingers, and fought off the urge to smile. He really was so much like his father that it was a bit unnerving at times. 

“Look…” Sirius trailed off, running his hand through what was left of his hair. “Once I’ve got my strength back, I’ll be able to keep you in check during the full moon, just like I used to. But until then, you’re going to need this.”

Remus suddenly felt cold all over. Between his transformation, and waking up alone in the forest, he remembered nothing. He’d heard plenty of different versions of the events, from Sirius, Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, Harry and Ron and Hermione - and even if he only believed the gentlest renditions of the story, Remus knew that Sirius was right. Padfoot likely wouldn’t be strong enough to take care of Moony on his own for a while. 

Even though his shoulders suddenly feel heavy with the burden he was once again thrusting onto his friend, Remus couldn’t stop himself from grinning, when another thought crossed his mind. “That was why you wanted to break into his office all along, wasn’t it? For the potion?”

Sirius passed him the bottle with an irritable snort. “Now who thinks too highly of himself, hmm?”

Remus wrapped his fingers around the cold glass, watching the hideous liquid slosh around inside. He could taste the potion on his tongue just looking at it; terrible, but the peace of mind that came along with knowing that he would remain true to himself during his transformations was worth every drop.

“Thank you.”

Sirius’ pout turned into a tiny smile, as he nudged Remus with his elbow. “There, see? That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Chapter Text

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Harry finally asked, “Where are we going, exactly?”

Remus had wondered the exact same thing. It had already been a long carriage ride. When they stopped for lunch - a simple but filling picnic that had apparently been prepared for them by the Hogwarts house elves - he hoped they were almost to their mystery destination. That had been hours ago, and Remus’ joints were starting to ache from being sedentary too long. The fresh scrapes and gashes on his back were tender from being pressed up against the seat cushion for the better part of an entire day.

“Ah, well…” For the first time since they’d been reunited, Sirius looked unsure of himself. “You see, my mother passed away while I was in Azkaban. My brother was already gone by then, so the entire estate has passed to me. ”

Remus did not like the sound of that... 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Harry said, with all of the finesse of a teenage boy who knew that there was no good thing to say, when confronted with someone else's loss.

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t be. She was a terrible, miserable, inbred old crone, and I can’t think of a single soul who isn’t better off with her gone.”

Harry, clearly caught off guard by that, nodded, “I see.”

“Well, anyway. That’s where we’re headed: the old Black family home.”

Remus felt his own dread roll in like a sudden storm. “We don’t have to, Padfoot. We could go somewhere else. We could rent a flat, or use my aunt’s cottage out in the country for the summer.”

The cottage was small, with only one bedroom, and the place was half falling apart when Remus left it to teach at Hogwarts, but even a cramped summer surrounded by that rotting wallpaper sounded more appealing than spending even a minute in Grimmauld Place.

“Actually…” Sirius trailed off. With no space to pace back and forth, he began to fidget. “We do. That was part of the deal.”

“Deal?” Remus and Harry questioned in near-perfect unison. 

Like a toy that had been wound too tight, Sirius finally snapped. His words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if he had no control over them anymore. “Dumbledore didn’t want Harry coming along with us at all. Said you needed to be with your aunt and uncle, that you were safe there and that was where you belonged. I told him that was rubbish, that you wanted to come with me, that I’m your legal guardian, and that I’d take you to Hawaii, or the damn moon for the summer, if that’s what I wanted to do.”

Remus couldn’t imagine Dumbledore taking that well. “If that’s all true, why do we have to-”

“I’m getting to it! Where was I? Right, the two of us had a real row about it, but I wasn’t going to back down. Not when it comes to you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled in a way Remus had never seen him smile before. It wasn’t wide and unabashed, but there was something so deeply happy in those green eyes of his. Remus couldn’t help thinking that Harry wouldn’t be so happy, if he knew the deal Sirius had made for them behind their backs, if he really understood how horrible the old family home was, and how much Sirius despised the place. 

Not that he had it in him to be the one to break that news. Harry would have to figure that one out on his own.

Sirius continued, “So this is the agreement we came to; if we stay in that wretched place until you turn seventeen, Dumbledore won’t bother us about our living arrangements.”

Harry nodded. “What makes that house so special?”

“My father was something of a paranoid lunatic.” Sirius leaned back into his seat agan, crossing his legs. His casual confidence was returning, and it was obvious in his posture. “A real bastard through and through, but the man knew what he was doing when it came to defensive spells. That place is fortified to hell and back. It was the only place outside of Hogwarts that Dumbledore thought you’d be safe, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I’m the only one alive who knows how to get in and out of that shithole unscathed, let alone alive. For now, anyway. Obviously I’ll be showing the two of you all the secrets. You both seem attached to all of your body parts, internal and external. Actually, we could probably disarm some of the more grisly traps, and still be safe enough...”

Remus had only visited Grimmauld Place once. It was two days after Christmas during their fourth year, and Sirius had invited his friends over for the day. Looking back, Remus was certain that the visit was mostly to rub it in his parents’ faces that their eldest son was mingling with the wrong sort at school, but at the time, he was just excited to see Sirius, and see the house he grew up in, even though he had never said a nice thing about it. 

“-oony?” His old nickname didn’t pull him out of his own thoughts, but Sirius’ hand waving frantically in front of his eyes does. “Moony, are you home in there?”

“Hmm?” Remus blinked deliberately, and shook his head. “Sorry, I was just- thinking.”

“I said , is that alright with you?”

Remus shrugged. “I don’t know that my opinion matters much.”

“Sure it does!” Sirius spread his arms in exasperation, as theatrically as the limited carriage space would allow him to. “You don’t have to come, you know.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m-” What , exactly, Remus wasn’t sure. Desperate? Lonely? A man with no other options? A little bit of all of the above, if he were honest. “I’m just along for the ride, and I’ve got nowhere else to go. Whatever you’ve decided is fine by me.”

That was apparently enough for Sirius. He nodded, pleased with that answer. “Good, because we’re just about there, I think.” He leaned towards the window, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he watched the buildings roll by. 

“The neighborhood looks a bit different, but I’d recognize this place anywhere.”

Sirius had to borrow a wand - Harry’s, this time - to make 12 Grimmauld Place appear for them, and the houses new occupants began moving their belongings inside. Why the Blacks had chosen a townhome in the middle of a muggle neighborhood as their residence, Remus had no idea, but he was thankful for it all the same. A bustling neighborhood right outside their well-hidden front door meant that there would be plenty of opportunities to get Sirius out of the house that he hated so much.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Remus was certain that they were being struck by one of the security spells Sirius had warned them about. It took him a few seconds to realize that nothing magical was happening at all, that what he was watching was a cascade of dust falling from the top of the doorframe. Sirius led the way inside, followed by Harry, and then Remus, the trio leaving a trail of footprints in the dust and grime behind them. 

When Sirius snapped his fingers and the sconces around them lit up, the magical lights illuminated a far bigger mess than the daylight leaking in from the door had. The entryway looked almost exactly how Remus had remembered it, and to the right, the foyer was also the same, right down to the placement of the plush, emerald-green couch. The only difference was the thick layer of dust, dirt, and cobwebs that covered every surface.

The portrait of Walburga Black - who had plenty of horrible things to say to him during his last visit to her home - was notably vacant, though Remus was sure that she would make an appearance eventually. 

“Well-” Remus started, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit, when what felt like an entire dust bunny managed to work its way into his throat, after only uttering a single word. “It sure is-”

“It's a dump, that’s what it is!” Sirius scowled, brushing the dust off of his shoulders. As if the man hadn’t just gone more than twelve years without so much as a warm bath. “Guess we can assume Kreacher finally kicked the bucket, judging by the state of this place.”

“Kreacher?” Harry asked.

“He’s our house elf,” Sirius explained, his voice dripping with disdain. “Or was , I suppose. Figures, he’d curl up and die while I was gone, the one time he might actually be useful.”

“He was rather old,” Remus reminded him. “Even the last time I was here, and that’s been almost-” He paused, doing the math in his head, and cringing at the the reminder of just how old they were. It had been easy to forget how much time had indeed passed, when so much of his reunion with Sirius felt just like picking up where they left off. “Twenty-three years?”

“Way to make us sound ancient, Moony.” Sirius said, his disgusted expression hinting that he was having the same revelation. “We should probably set up camp for tonight. By the time we got any of the bedrooms clean enough to sleep in, it’d be time to wake up again.”

The den seemed as good a place as any to set up their indoor campsite... After Sirius warned them both which knot in the floor was the trigger for a very painful trap, of course. Whether the bathroom nearby still worked due to magic, or some miracle, Remus wasn’t sure. He was thankful all the same, to take a shower so scalding hot that his skin was red and blotchy when he emerged. 

In its own time, it must have been a sight to behold; even under years of dust the dark stone tiles, the woodwork, and even the unnerving snake-shaped faucets still look elegant. Even the water was elegant. When Remus stood under the showerhead and closed his eyes, he could smell the faint, floral scent clearly. Under the cupboard, most of the towels were only lightly moth-eaten and perfectly usable. 

The den had been completely transformed by the time he returned. Harry and Sirius had pushed the furniture out to the edges of the room, and pulled back the curtains to reveal a glorious sunset, and between the sofa cushions. The blankets and pillows Remus had brought with him, and the dozens of others he assumed the two of them had salvaged from other rooms in the Black house, had been piled together to create one large sleeping area. The dingy room had been transformed into an indoor campsite that any ten year old at a slumber party would be happy with. The several boxes of takeaway that someone apparently retrieved in his absence pulled that look together quite nicely.

Harry and Sirius, despite being much older than ten, looked proud of themselves all the same.

“It’s about time,” Sirius teased. “We almost started eating without you.”

Remus glanced down at the cheap, styrofoam containers on the ancient, ornate coffee table. Chinese food, judging by the smell. “Are you sure you should be eating that? Shouldn’t you be eating a more… I don’t know, bland diet? While you recover?”

Sirius shrugged. “It can’t be any worse for me than what I’ve been eating. Besides, Harry suggested it. You’re not going to doubt his judgment, are you?”

Remus glanced at Harry, who, like Sirius, only shrugged. “I thought that would be easier on his stomach than Indian food. Those were the only quick options nearby.”

“See, Moony? It’ll be fine.”

Remus decided not to argue - mostly because he wasn’t sure what the alternative would be. The three of them sat around the table, which was awkwardly low despite the fact that they were seated on the floor, and passed around the containers. Sweet and sour chicken, chow mein, spring rolls, beef and broccoli, more potstickers than they could possibly hope to eat, and a fruity, carbonated soda that Remus didn’t know the name of. 

“I promise, you’ll both have rooms of your own soon enough,” Sirius said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, sounding far more excited than apologetic. “But this’ll do for tonight, don’t you think?”

Remus nodded, “I’ve slept on worse.”

“Me, too.” said Harry.

Remus watched as surprise briefly flickered across Sirius’ face. But it was gone, in a blink of an eye, and that playful smile quickly replaced it again. “Your own rooms, and you can decorate them however you like. In fact, I think we should gut the house entirely. It’s so cold . I’ve always hated that about it, even before things went south between me and my parents.”

Sirius was right about that. Remus was certain, between this visit and his first, that he’d only seen a small fraction of the house, but he’d seen enough to get a good idea about the Black’s prefered decorating scheme… Black. Silver. Jewel tones. It was all very beautiful and sophisticated; the contents of one room alone were probably worth more than everything Remus would ever own in his life. But it carried none of the warmth that he associated with the word home , even though Remus never had a house of his own to compare Grimmauld Place to. 

“-and this room,” Sirius continued, and Remus realized that he had been talking all the while. “Could really use a television too, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t think wizards watched television,” Harry said, mouth half-full of broccoli. His table manners, Remus realized, must have come from his father’s side of the family. 

“The stuffy ones don’t,” Sirius snorted. “It would be brilliant if we could get our hands on a VCR. Do you have a VCR, Moony?”

Remus shook his head, “I’m afraid I don’t.”

Sirius elbowed Harry in the side, “See what I mean about the stuffy ones?”

“I’m not stuffy, ” he insisted, placing his takeout container on the table with more force than he meant to. “Televisions and VCRs are expensive, and I never know where I’ll be living from one month to the next - I don’t have much use for something I might not even be able to plug in.”

“Mhm,” Sirius nodded. “And you do have use for all of those books you’ve been toting around all these years? Do you ever open them, once you’ve read them once?”

“I take back what I said before,” Remus pressed his lips into a hard, thin line. “I hope this food wreaks havoc on your insides.”

Chapter Text

The makeshift floor-bed was, admittedly, more comfortable than half of the real beds that Remus had slept on in his lifetime, but that bar was set so low that it might as well be on the ground with them. So, it was surprising when he woke up the next morning to find that he felt well-rested, comfortable, and completely at peace. Remus was prone to staying in bed all day when left to his own devices, but that was rarely because he fell back to sleep after initially waking up. Now, with Sirius pressed up against him, it seemed like he could-

Wait, Sirius?

Remus opened his eyes, certain that his other senses were lying to him. It must be the remnants of whatever now-forgotten dream he was having. There was no way that Sirius was really cuddling him-

But he was. There was his head, resting on Remus’ shoulder, his hand placed on Remus’ chest, fingers curled in the worn fabric of his nightshirt, one leg draped unceremoniously over his torso.

Even though he was now awake, the feeling of wanting to stay, just like this, was stronger than ever. Unfortunately, suddenly being acutely aware of everything happening around him also meant that Remus could hear Harry lightly snoring to his right. Remus needed to get Sirius awake and off of him before he woke up and noticed; Remus didn’t quite have an explanation for this himself, let alone one that would satisfy Harry.

“Padfoot,” he hissed, gently shaking him. “Wake up.”

Slowly, Sirius opened his eyes, and tilted his head up. “Hmm? What for?”

What for, as if he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about being tangled up together on the middle of the floor, with his godson still asleep beside them. 

“It’s morning.” Was the only thing that came to mind.

“That’s all?” Sirius snorted, letting his head fall on Remus’ shoulder once again. “Since when is that an excuse to get out of bed? I’m comfortable, let me sleep.”

Remus heard Harry rustling around at his other side. “Hmm?”

Shit-

Before Remus could properly panic, Sirius was upright, messy hair and all smiles. “Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?”

Remus heard Harry mumble a barely coherent response, but all he could do was glare up at Sirius.

“And what’s wrong with you, Moony?” Sirius asked, playfully pinching his arm. “Still half-asleep?”

“Something like that,” Remus grumbled, rubbing at the spot Sirius pinched as he pulled himself into sitting position, listening to his back crack under the strain of it all. 

Apparently, that was going to be the end of that, at least for now. Sirius suggested venturing into the kitchen, to see if there was any edible food left in the house after all those years. With no better suggestion for how to spend their morning, and more importantly, as an excuse not to think too much about waking up with an armful of Sirius, Remus followed after his housemates.

Sirius hadn't been exaggerating, about the house's defensive capabilities. They had to pause their trek to the kitchen half a dozen times, for Sirius to disarm a trap, or show them how to sidestep a trigger, or point out a false door of some sort.

The kitchen, when they finally reached it, was in the same state as the rest of the house. Sirius entered first, whistling quietly as he looked around, as if he were searching with a motive. He paused near a shelf whose entire purpose seemed to be displaying a collection of ornate dishware. Without warning, Sirius pushed one plate onto the floor, shattering it.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Feel better?”

He nodded. “You should try it. Very cathartic.”

“I’m quite alright. You’ve been spending too much time with that cat friend of yours, I think. He’s been a bad influence on you.”

“Well then,” Sirius smirked. “You’ll just have to be a good role model for me, won’t you Moony? Just like when we were in school. You know, maybe we should get a cat.”

“Why, so you have someone to destroy all of your family heirlooms with?”

“Well, that’s certainly a positive,” said Sirius. “I was thinking about how a pet cat could come in handy, just in case we run into another rat problem in the future.”

“Um…” Harry’s low mumble was barely loud enough to interrupt their conversation. When the two of them looked up, they found Harry, propping open a cupboard door, staring inside with an uneasy expression. “I think I found Kreacher.”

Sirius snorted, “You mean what’s left of him.”

“I’m pretty sure this is all of him.”

Remus almost jumped out of his skin, when the thin, pale hand, small like a child’s, emerged from the cupboard. It swatted Harry’s away, before slamming it shut from the inside. The thud had enough force behind it that dust from the light fixtures fell upon them like a light snow in early winter.

Sirius sighed, as if he had just been tasked with the worst chore he could possibly imagine, rolled up his sleeve, and set to work prying that cupboard door open. It took considerable effort, and Remus was just about to suggest that they give up on Kreacher for now when Sirius finally succeeded, the door snapping free of its weak, rusted hinges and falling to the floor. 

Kreacher the house elf tumbled out, somersaulting onto the floor in a cloud of dust and dirt. Harry coughed into his sleeve. Sirius picked Kreacher up by the rags he wore - which could hardly qualify as a shirt - and sat him on the counter, getting him a bit closer to eye level.

“Figured you’d be dead by now,” Sirius said, his voice lacking affection. Or any emotion at all, really.

“Kreacher thought the same thing about you.”

“And here I thought you’d have to worship the ground I walk on, be pleasant to me for a change, now that I’m in charge.”

“To obey and to adore are not the same thing.” Kreacher straightened his dirty, torn garment, glaring at Sirius. 

“Whatever - it makes no difference to me one way or another. Since you’re here now, you can help us clean the place up. We’ll be starting in the south wing.” 

Kreacher dusted off his garment, though Remus wasn’t sure what the point of that was. “As you wish, Master .” He practically spat the word, before snapping his fingers and vanishing.

“Well, that’s just great,” Sirius muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Fantastic. As if living in this dreadful place wasn’t going to be horrible enough already-”

“Couldn’t you just give him some clothes if you hate him so much?” Harry suggested, his voice tentative and hopeful. “Set him free, and he’ll leave.”

Sirius appeared to think on that for a moment, before shaking his head. “As much as I would love nothing more than to do that, Harry, I can’t. He’s got more loyalty to the Black family than any of them have got to each other. If he’s not here, he’ll run off to some horrible Death Eater cousin of mine-”

“Death Eater?” Harry questioned.

Sirius’ expression twisted into one of brash confusion, and Remus took that brief opportunity to jump in, before the other man had an opportunity to say something he would come to regret. “Voldemort’s inner circle. That’s what they call themselves.”

“My own parents, may they rest in constant torment, never really bothered to sign on , so to speak, but they definitely thought he had the right idea.” Sirius leaned against the counter, legs and arms crossed, elegant and irritated. “But some branches of the extended family were far more enthusiastic. If I set Kreacher free, that’s where he’ll go, and happily blab to anyone who cares to listen that you’re here.”

Remus frowned. “I thought you said this house was heavily fortified?”

“It is,” said Harry. “When I went out to get the takeaway last night, I almost couldn’t find it again.”

“Armed to the teeth, hidden with every security charm you can think of.” Sirius nodded. “And you know who knows all of those secrets?”

“Kreacher.” Remus and Harry said in unison.

“Bloody Kreacher ,” Sirius rubbed his temple. “He’s probably been spying on us since we got here, the little creep.”

“Well… at least we know he’s here,” Remus said, struggling to come up with an optimistic outlook. “The cleaning will go much faster, with an extra set of hands.”

“If I wasn’t worried about him poisoning us, I’d put him on cooking duty. Even if there was anything to eat in this kitchen, it’s not like any of us know how to prepare a proper meal.”

“I do.”

Remus and Sirius both looked at Harry, exchanged a surprised look, and then turned to Harry again.

“Can you, really?” Sirius asked, amazed.

Slowly, Harry nodded. “You… can’t?”

Remus couldn’t help laughing. As much as Harry looked like James, sometimes his quips were so terribly Lily .

“It’s not like they teach you that sort of thing in Azkaban.” Sirius play-pouted, though Remus couldn’t help noticing the pale pink color settling in on his cheeks. He was embarrassed, but as always, quick to deflect before anyone got a chance to really notice. “Shut up, Moony. You can’t cook, either.”

Remus only laughed harder. “You don’t think I managed to learn while you were away?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, you’ve got me there,” Remus wiped a tear from his eye, his laughing fit subsiding. “Never really had a knack for it. My mother tried to teach me several times, of course, but I would always muck it up somehow. I can’t even fry an egg without busting the yolk open.”

Sirius gagged. “Raw egg, disgusting.”

“The yolk is the best part. ”

“I can do that,” Harry said. “The runny egg yolk, I mean. Loads of other stuff, too. I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t mind cooking.”

Sirius clapped his hands. “Brilliant! We’ll have to pick up some groceries while we’re out today.”

Remus frowned. “Out? Who said anything about going out?”

“Well, what are we supposed to do, sit around here in this miserable house staring at each other all day?” Sirius scoffed at the very idea. “I need a new wand, we all need new clothes, there’s no food in the house-”

Remus looked down at himself; his pants were frayed at the ends, and his shirt had seen better days, but overall, it wasn’t his worst outfit. “The clothes I have are just fine.”

“Some chocolate, then. Some new books, or whatever horrible knickknack catches your eye. Whatever you want. We should squander the family fortune as much as possible.”

“But I don’t need anything,” Remus insisted.

“So what, you’re going to stay here and pal around with Kreacher?” Sirius asked, as if that were a truly ridiculous thing to do. “Come on, Moony, we’ll make a day of it, it’ll be fun!”

Sirius and Harry both stared at him so intently, Remus wondered what else he would do. His body still ached from his latest transformation, but the thought of missing out on this hurt worse. It had been a long time, he realized as he caved into their demands, since the fear of being left out had been a problem for him, but that did not make it any less compelling.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go get my cane and my jumper.”

Chapter Text

“Well, what do you think? Too much?”

Remus looked up from his book, examining the seventh in a long string of outfits Sirius had managed to cobble together at the charity shop. Where do you like to shop these days, Moony? had been an obvious ploy to convince Remus to let Sirius splurge needlessly on him but, when pressed, he couldn’t come up with anything else. 

At least too much money wouldn’t be wasted. Sirius seemed to be enjoying himself; each outfit was more dramatic than the last. So much so that Remus was starting to wonder if this was some bizarre game of chicken that Sirius had initiated without telling anyone else. 

Remus nodded. “Absolutely garish.”

“Perfect. I’ll get it, then-”

The curtain to the second dressing room opened, revealing Harry, in a much more reasonable ensemble; jeans, a plaid shirt, and a simple pair of black sneakers.

“Um…” he trailed off awkwardly, before striking a pose. “Ta-da?”

Remus smiled. Clearly, Harry needed more encouragement than his godfather. “You look great, Harry.”

He looked relieved. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever had clothes that actually fit before. It’s… different.”

“Different isn’t always bad,” said Remus. “And in this context, I think different is brilliant.”

Harry beamed, but Sirius was quick to roll his eyes. “If you really feel that way, you should try on the jumpers I picked out for you.”

Remus glanced at the pile next to him on the bench. “No. ”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, you teased me the entire time you were picking them out-”

“So? I’m not wrong. You do dress like a geriatric librarian when left to your own devices. And it’s only gotten worse in my absence!”

“Second,” said Remus, as curtly as he could manage, “As I’ve told you at least a dozen times now, I don’t want any new clothes. I don’t need them.”

“And I’ve told you , today isn’t all about getting things we need! It’s about having fun!” Sirius threw his hands into the air, as if to mimic someone who was actually having fun, though his expression was comically annoyed by comparison. “It’s about being self-indulgent! I can’t even remember the last time I got to be this self-indulgent, Remus!”

Remus smirked, and gestured at Sirius. “This right here is self-indulgent enough for the both of us, I think.”

He huffed. “Fine. But I am getting that horrible suede shirt.”

“I expected nothing less.”

Sirius sauntered back into his dressing room, pulling the curtain shut behind him, leaving Remus alone with Harry.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know it seems like we bicker a lot-”

Harry shook his head. “Well, I mean, yeah, you do, but- but it doesn’t feel like real fighting.”

“No,” Remus said, smiling as he glanced at Sirius’ dressing room. “It’s not, not really. But I can see why it might seem that way to you.”

He shrugged. “Different, but brilliant.” 

Different for Harry, maybe, but for Remus, bickering back and forth with Sirius was so familiar that he’d fallen back into their old dynamic almost effortlessly. 

Familiar, but brilliant all the same.

The trio left the store with several bags of clothing, including the offensive suede shirt that Sirius insisted on buying, and a few cardigans he’d managed to sneak up to the checkout counter without Remus noticing until it was too late. He looked like a smug cat who had just caught himself a mouse, as he stuffed the extensive purchases into the expandable briefcase Remus had brought with him to make the day a bit easier.

Olivander’s was their second stop. Although Sirius was thrilled to finally get his hand on a wand all his own, the anticipation Remus felt as they stepped out into Diagon Alley was rooted in dread rather than excitement. No one had recognized Sirius so far, but their outing had kept them in muggle neighborhoods. His mugshots had been plastered all over their newspapers, but after a haircut and a bath, the madman from the news and the one walking down the street might as well have been two different people. 

But the wizard  community was much smaller, and full of people they knew. Between the three of them, they were bound to be noticed by someone. For a freshly-acquitted  serial murderer and a newly-outed werewolf, being noticed wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

It was something Remus had spent his entire life trying to avoid. He kept his secret at all costs. His whole life had been an exercise in blending in. When he was fifteen, and surpassed six feet, it had taken multiple pep talks from James to convince him that his height wasn’t going to ruin all of his best efforts. He’d lost dozens of jobs, homes, and friendships, all in the name of keeping his secret. 

Now, thanks to one missed dosage, three decades of discretion had been flushed down the toilet. Anyone with a connection to Hogwarts knew his secret. Running down Diagon Alley naked would have been less invasive than this -

With his mind occupied, Remus failed to notice how close Sirius was, until the other man looped their arms together. Their eyes met, and he didn’t have to say anything. Remus could hear the other man’s voice in his head, clear as day:

Stop worrying, Moony - it’s going to be alright.

Remus nodded, tightened his hold on his cane, and together they stepped out into the street.

They had picked the perfect time to go shopping - the middle of a workday, before school supply lists had gone out. The shoulder-to-shoulder foot traffic that Remus had come to associate with Diagon Alley was reduced by more than half, and the walk to Olivander’s Wand Shop was a brisk and easy one. 

There were plenty of reasons to be happy about having Sirius back in his life, but in that moment, Remus could not think of a single one that topped his old friend’s mastery of handling negative attention. It was a well practiced skill, and it showed. Where Remus avoided eye contact, Sirius held his head high, waving, and even going as far as to shout hello! towards one wizard whose eyes lingered on them for too long.

“Bloody busybodies,” Sirius grumbled as they entered the shop, Harry graciously holding the door open for them. “That’ll teach ‘em to mind their own business.”

“I take it you didn’t know that man?” Harry asked, barely audible over the sound of the door clattering shut behind him.

Sirius shook his head, “Didn’t recognize him, anyway. Bet you get a lot of that too, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well…” Sirius untangled his arm from Remus’, so he could place both of his hands firmly on his godson’s shoulders, “At least neither of us has to grin and bear it alone anymore, right?”

Harry smiled, “Right.”

Olivander himself emerged from the back room, mid-yawn and messy haired. It was easy to picture the old man snoozing on a slow, lazy afternoon. His listless eyes settled on the three wizards darkening his doorway, and though it took him a few moments to realize who he was looking at, his sleepy expression soon turned into one that Remus could only describe as pure glee.

“Sirius Black,” he shook his head in disbelief, grinning with all of his teeth. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you before summer’s end.”

“Well, where else would I go?” Sirius stepped forward, matching the wandmaker’s enthusiasm as he shook his hand. “Can't get much done without a wand of my own, now can I?"

"Of course," the old man agreed, "Though I must say, I'm surprised you haven't stolen one to get you by. Not that I'm condoning such behavior, mind you! It's just easy to imagine, how it might be... let's say, necessary, in your situation."

“Oh believe me, I tried,” Sirius confessed, as casually as one might admit to littering, or forgetting to return a library book. “A few times, actually, but it’s like they always say-”

“The wand chooses the wizard, ” Olivander finished. “Too right. I can’t imagine a stolen wand would have done the trick - it’d be like stealing another man’s shoes without bothering to check the size! Don’t you worry, Black, we’ll get you sorted out.” 

Remus and Harry were ushered into the corner, to the uncomfortable bench usually reserved for the parents of young witches and wizards receiving their first wand. Sirius looked every bit the excited child, as he eyed the floor-to-ceiling piles of wand boxes. His fingers flexed with anticipation, eager to have his hands on his own wand again.

Remus placed his hand over his wand, concealed in a pocket his mother had sewn into his cardigan for him. It had been his constant companion for over half of his life, and it was difficult to imagine going without it. What would it be like, he wondered, to have to replace something so personal? Would Sirius’ new wand ever feel the way his old one did?

He would have to ask, once Sirius had time to get used to it.

Ollivander maneuvered around his shop, carefully selecting four different boxes from various shelves and piles. Remus had considered himself a master of organized chaos, which must have made Ollivander its patron saint. How he found anything specific in a room full of identical boxes, Remus had no idea. If he didn’t know better, he would think that it was madness, or at the very least, an old man making a big show of selecting random wands for his customers.

But there was a method to the madness. Remus and Harry watched, intrigued, as Ollivander opened the first box, and carefully handed the wand to Sirius. “These are all very similar to the wand you took home when you were eleven; that’s usually a good place to start. Similar properties are likely to still be compatible. Give that one a try - it’s a bit shorter than your first, but the wood is of similar origin and quality.”

Sirius nodded and gave the instrument a skilled and graceful flick. The magic the gesture produced, unfortunately, didn’t match the technique; the shelf directly in front of him folded, the wand display scattering across the floor.

“Well, that’s alright,” Ollivander took the wand from Sirius, who seemed reluctant to give it up despite the disaster it had caused. “Rarely get it right on the first go. Here, try this one - willow, instead of pine. Lovely finish, don’t you think?”

Sirius nodded again, eyes far away, and waved the wand. Three of the glass sconces struggling to keep the room lit shattered, one after another.

Ollivander quickly snatched the wand back. “No, I think not. Here, try this-”

And so they went on, testing dozens of wands. For the most part, they produced no reaction, much to Sirius’ growing irritation. Remus could feel his eyelids growing heavy, and had lost count of the number of times Harry had yawned next to him, when at long last, a wand produced the desired red sparks.

Fir, ten inches exactly, dragon heartstring core. 

“No need to wrap it up for me,” Sirius said, tucking his new treasure into his waistcoat. “We’ve already been here for nearly two hours, I’d hate to waste even more time.”

“Blacks have always been difficult to match,” Ollivander said, his tone argumentative for the first time since the process began. “You were here when your brother purchased his first wand; took the better part of the afternoon! And your cousin, Narcissa Black - she had to come back a second time!”

“Rubbish,” Sirius rolled his eyes, fishing the standard seven gallions out of his pocket. “I think you just pick random boxes until you get lucky.”

“Believe what you want,” Ollivander sighed, willfully keeping his tired eyes on the coins in his palm as he counted them. “You ended up with a good fit, didn’t you?”

Sirius waved him off, turning on his heels towards the door. “Come on Harry, Moony - we’ve got other business to take care of.”

Remus groaned with the effort of standing after remaining sedentary for so long. Ollivander had already retreated into his backroom, before he could offer the old man so much as an apologetic smile. Remus envied him; he was probably going back to finish up his nap. 

The sun was blinding compared to the dim lighting in the wand shop. As soon as his eyes adjusted, Remus spotted Harry, chatting with Angelina Johnson in front of the broom shop. Sirius, despite all of his huffing and puffing about the process he had just endured, was playing around with his new wand. Remus expected him to be happy - for someone as independent as Sirius, borrowing such a basic necessity must have infuriated him. 

“How do you like it?”

“It’s fine.” Sirius struck a pose, pointing his wand as if he were going to cast a spell. “It feels different.”

“Different doesn’t have to be bad.” 

Sirius frowned. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I know it’s been more than a decade, but every time I hold a wand, I still expect it to feel like my wand. It was like an extension of my own hand.”

“You will get used to it. This one will also feel like a part of you, if you give it some time.” Remus wasn’t sure if he believed that, but Sirius needed to, if he was ever going to grow accustomed to the new wand. “Just give it some time.”

“I suppose there are still plenty of pests at home to test it out on-”

“Don’t fling curses at Kreacher, Padfoot.”

He chuckled. “I was talking about the Doxies, Moony.”

Remus wasn’t entirely sure if he believed that, either, but at least Sirius was in a good mood.

Chapter Text

It made sense in the moment, to give Harry the first, and at that point only, clean and livable bedroom. He was nearly fourteen years old, and Remus wasn’t so far removed from his youth that he didn’t remember how important privacy was for him when he was Harry’s age. Sirius took a similar stance, and insisted that his godson take the first available room, even when Harry said that he didn’t mind if either of them wanted to sleep on a proper bed. 

It had made perfect sense, right up until Remus and Sirius were left alone and unsupervised on the giant makeshift mattress in the living room. Sirius still hadn’t brought up the fact that he’d managed to wrap himself around Remus that first night, and Remus wasn’t quite sure if he should bring it up at all, or if it was better left forgotten.

Well, unspoken at least. He was pretty sure he would never forget about it. Not when his wandering mind brought it up every night when they turned in. Would it happen again? Had Sirius done it on purpose? What other old habits would they fall back into now that they lived together, and did Sirius enjoy that little cuddle even half as much as Remus did?

“Moony.”

“Yes?

It was eerily quiet, so much so that Remus knew that Sirius hadn’t fallen asleep. It was the sort of quiet that only happens when someone was trying to stay as silent as possible. Remus felt tension building as he struggled to hear anything, even the sound of Sirius breathing, and struggled even more to read his expression in the dark.

“It’s about Harry,” he said. Tentatively. As if he wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to say. “Was he… How much do you know about what he’s been up to since…”

Sirius trailed off, but Remus didn’t need him to finish. “Not as much as I’d like. Before this school year began, I was only able to see him once or twice, and that was only at a distance. His aunt and uncle were very much against any sort of magical influences in his life, and…” Remus trailed off himself, face warm as he tried to think of a way to tell the horribly embarrassing story without embarrassing himself too much. “Well, let’s just say that grown, childless men lurking around playgrounds usually aren’t welcome for too long.”

Any attempts at staying quiet were abandoned, as Sirius burst into laughter. Remus watched his shadowy form shake with it. “You should have become an animagus along with the rest of us. It’s useful for situations like that.”

Even though Sirius likely couldn’t see it, Remus rolled his eyes. “Because a wolf prowling the park is so much better, isn’t it?”

“Fair point,” Sirius conceded, winded from his laughing fit. “Has he ever talked to you? About the muggles, I mean.”

“A little.” Remus rolled over onto his back. The ceilings in Grimmauld Place were all so high that he might as well be staring up at an endless void. “He never offered a lot of specifics, I didn’t want to push too hard. But, I did get the feeling that it wasn’t exactly a happy childhood.”

Sirius’ tone was very grave, when he spoke again. “Yes, that was my instinct too. Did you see the clothes they had him in?”

“If you’ll recall, Padfoot, when I was his age, none of my clothes fit me either.”

“That was different. You grew like a weed. By the time you got home from the shop I bet your trousers were too short. Harry’s old clothes are four times his size, easily.”

“My mother used to do that, too,” said Remus. “Buy clothes that she knew were too big, so that I would grow into them.”

“Do you really think that’s what’s going on here?”

Remus had only met Vernon and Petunia Dursley once, at James and Lily’s wedding. The wedding itself had been terrific - easily one of the best days of his life, and he wasn’t even the one who got married. The Dursleys stuck out in his memories of that day. They seemed hell bent on not enjoying themselves for even a moment, and - less important in the grand scheme of things, but very important to this particular conversation - aside from the bride, they were the two best-dressed people there for the short time they bothered to stick around. 

Lily had been one of his dearest friends, in no small part because, like Remus’ own family, hers lacked the extravagant wealth that the Blacks, the Potters, and to a lesser extent, the Pettigrews and the McKinnons, boasted. She told him, once, what her sister’s terribly dull muggle husband did for a living. Even though Remus had forgotten what it was exactly as soon as that conversation ended, he knew that the two of them wanted for nothing.

Remus fiddled with the fringe on his blanket. “No. No, I don’t.”

“I didn’t think so,” Sirius said, and Remus instantly recognized the cold temper in his voice. “When James asked me to be his godfather, I was convinced that I’d make a terrible guardian, if that day ever came. But at least we would have done a better job raising the boy than those fucking-”

“ We? ” Remus interrupted without thinking, so surprised to hear that word come out of Sirius’ mouth that he didn’t even realize he had repeated it until it was too late.

“Ah, well- We were still together at the time.”

“Yes,” there was a hesitance in his voice. It was a topic they had been avoiding. In the Shrieking Shack, there were more pressing matters to deal with than their failed relationship. As the days passed by, even though there were plenty of them, there never seemed to be a good time to broach the subject. So Remus left it alone; always at the forefront of his mind, just waiting for one of them to bring it up. “I remember.”

“So I just figured-” Remus could see Sirius moving his arms about in the dark. A poor substitute for his usual nervous pacing. “As morbid as it all was, we’d be taking that on together, if it ever came down to it.”

Remus swallowed. “I see.”

“Not that it matters anymore. Everyone can see how bloody well that worked out.”

“Padfoot…” He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? Words weren’t going to bring back Lily and James. He could apologize a million times, and it wouldn’t undo twelve years of torment in Azkaban. Not to mention the fact that Sirius would likely insist that he knock it off after the first thousand or so apologies. “I know we took the long way round, but we ended up there, didn’t we? You, me, and Harry, I mean-”

“Oh, hush, would you?” Sirius mumbled, rolling over so that his back was turned to Remus, his blanket wrapped tightly around him. “I’m trying to get some sleep.”

“Right.” Remus mumbled. Clearly, that wasn’t the right thing to say, and he knew he’d be up for hours, long after Sirius began snoring next to him, trying to come up with what Sirius had wanted to hear in that moment. “Goodnight, then.”

Eventually, Remus did fall asleep. When he opened his eyes again, it felt as though only a few minutes had passed, but it must have been several hours; the sun was already blindingly bright through the open curtains, and Sirius was nowhere to be seen.  

On the one hand, that was preferable to another incident. But as Remus got up and began roaming the halls, the eerily quiet morning began to weigh on him, with none of the warmth or comfort he felt with Sirius curled and sleeping at his side. It was the first morning since their arrival that he’d woken up to nothing - no Sirius, no Harry, no smell of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen, no Doxies scrambling back to their hiding places, nothing . In a house full of boobytraps that didn’t feel like home quite yet, it was unnerving. 

Not sure what else to do with himself, Remus began to make his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, carefully avoiding the knots on the floor that were supposed to trigger whatever traps Orion Black had left behind. Would  this house ever feel like home, he wondered, if he was constantly fearing the one misstep that could lead to a gruesome, painful death?

The empty, lonely anxiety vanished instantly, and was replaced with careful curiosity, when he found Harry, dressed in his new, well-fitted clothes, standing in the hallway, just outside of his own destination. He was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom, fingers tugging at his wild and unbrushed hair. He looked confused - no, not confused, worried . Scared.

Remus glanced between Harry and the closed door. “What’s going on-”

“Go away !” Sirius shouted from inside the bathroom. The solid wooden door between them did little to muffle the sound. 

“He’s been in there all morn-” Harry started to explain, before he was interrupted by more shouting.

“Can’t a man use his own bathtub in peace?! Leave me alone! ”

Remus, as much as he hated to admit it, wasn’t surprised by the outburst. If anything, he was surprised it had taken this long. It wasn’t the first time he'd come face to face with his friend’s temper, and if they were to continue this living arrangement, it wouldn’t be the last. Remus had learned to take it in stride when he was young. It was oddly comforting to know that he still could, despite their time apart.

Harry, however… Harry was clearly distraught. The boy had been in good spirits since their arrival. No family was perfect, and Harry surely understood that there would be growing pains as the three of them got used to each other. However, Sirius had also been nothing but pleasant right from the start - to Harry, at least. This emotional eruption must have come as a surprise to him.

Forcing out a smile, Remus placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, and began guiding him towards the front door. “What’s say you and I go to the cafe for breakfast, hm? Change it up a bit? I’ve been wanting to try it out all summer, this seems like a great opportunity.”

“But what about-”

“Trust me - he just needs to be left alone.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder, unconvinced.

“I can explain more, once we get there,” Remus promised. He kept his voice barely above a whisper. There was a good chance that Sirius had his ear pressed against the door, eager to know any disparaging things they might have to say about him. “But you’ll only make him angrier, if you keep pressing. It’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way, believe me.”

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. It was a relief, Remus thought, as they slipped on their shoes, that as much as he was like his parents, Harry had not inherited Lily’s stubbornness and James’ knack for pushing until he got his way or until something pushed back.

Neither of them looked particularly presentable, with their unbrushed hair and teeth, and Remus still in his worn cotton sleepshirt and trousers. Hopefully, the early morning crowd at the cafe wouldn’t mind, or notice - though the contrast of the frayed hem of his pants and the scuffed leather of his loafers brought even more attention to just how disheveled he looked.

“My my… he still throws quite the tantrum, doesn’t he? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that my son hasn’t aged a day since he left.” 

The strange, new, posh voice made both Remus and Harry jump in surprise. When they looked up, there she was, in all of her former glory, immortalized forever in pigment.

Walburga Black.

“You think he’d have outgrown it by now,” she continued. “Shameful, carrying on like that. But that’s to be expected, from the man who insists on bringing such filth into our home-”

“It’s his house now," Harry cut her off, eyes narrow with irritation. "He can do whatever he likes.”

“How dare you!” she scoffed, her face wrinkling in disgust. “How dare you deface my ancient and noble house and then speak to me in that disrespectful tone! When I was your age, we had ways for dealing with half-breeds who didn’t know their place-”

Remus ushered Harry out the door, his new sneakers still untied, before that argument could go any further. Not that Walburga Black didn’t deserve a good verbal lashing. Unfortunately, the painting was just as unlikely to change her ways as her living counterpart, and it hardly seemed worth the effort. Especially when coffee and pastries were waiting for them.

Despite the busy, bustling streets full of commuters and children looking for their day’s entertainment, it was much quieter outside, with the door shut firmly behind him. The cafe Remus had in mind was only two blocks away, and neither of them spoke as they made their way down the sidewalk. The silence draped over them like a blanket; much too heavy for the warm summer weather, but still preferable to the even heavier discussion they both knew was coming. 

The cafe was everything Remus hoped it would be. Small, with dingy beige walls, mismatched furniture, and quiet customers who were all very consumed with their books, newspapers, or Walkmans - though why anyone needed one, Remus wasn’t sure. Fred Astaire sounded perfectly fine, despite the fact that the speakers softly belting out his greatest hits for cafe patrons had to be at least twenty years old. The barista at the counter greeted them with a smile, and Remus made note of the wand jutting out from her intricate bun.

They ordered their breakfast - chocolate croissants, two lattes, and extra sweetener. Remus tried not to be too self conscious about the fact that four of the six sugar packets ended up in his coffee. He could never drink the stuff plain, no matter how many people insisted that it was good, that he was ruining it with sugar or chocolate sauce or whatever sweet thing he could get his hands on to make the bitter liquid drinkable.

He didn’t have any time to feel comforted by the fact that Harry didn’t bring it up, because the subject they’d come to the cafe to discuss was even less pleasant than a critique of his eating habits.

“So… This morning,” Harry started, dunking his pastry into his coffee cup. “That was… What was that? Is Sirius going to be okay?”

There really wasn’t a delicate way to ask that question, but Remus had to give Harry credit for trying. “Yes, Harry, he’s going to be just fine.”

“So this is…” Harry hesitated, racking his brain to find the right word. “Normal?”

“That’s the kind way of putting it, but… Yes.” Remus sipped at his latte. It was still warm enough that it burned the roof of his mouth, but at least that painful mouthful bought him a few moments to think through his next move. “I’m sure you’ve picked up on it by now, but he didn’t have an easy go of it, growing up.”

“That makes sense, if that’s what his mother was like all of the time.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” said Remus. “He got along with his brother, when they were younger. He and James were practically attached at the hip from the moment we met, and we had plenty of other friends as well.” 

He could always see them all so clearly in his mind. Marlene McKinnon, with piercing blue eyes and thick platform boots, always sticking her nose into anyone and everyone’s business. Mary Macdonald, who always woke up early to braid flowers into her hair and prepare everyones’ horoscopes to read to them over breakfast. Peter Pettigrew, who would have done just about anything if he thought it would make Sirius laugh - with him or at him. James, arrogant and passionate, with a zest for life that even Remus found contagious. Lily, who was simultaneously exceedingly kind and unwaveringly stubborn. Not to mention Dorcas, Benjy, Frank and Alice, and up until recently, Sirius himself. 

Remus had carried those memories with him for so long that the unbearable weight felt natural now. He still noticed it, less often the more time passed, but discarding it had never been an option. Somehow, he was the last one left; if he didn’t remember them, who would?

Except now he wasn’t the last man standing. All of a sudden, Remus wasn’t alone. Which meant that he would have to do something he hadn’t done in a long, long time.

Move forward.

“But…” he continued, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his thin paper napkin. “For as much as we all loved him, the cruelty his parents showed him cut deep. Even after he left home, and went to live with your father, he… struggled. With mood swings, impulsivity, restlessness... Some of it might be hereditary, I think - you saw the temper his mother had. And if you ever tell him I made the comparison, I’ll deny it until my death day.”

That, at least, got Harry to crack a smile. “And… I bet all of that time with the Dementors didn’t do him any favors.”

“No,” Remus shook his head. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for him. Sirius… I don’t think he’s ever had a small feeling in his life, good or bad.”

Remus watched as Harry mulled over these new facts about his godfather. He opened his mouth once, but closed it promptly so he could take more time to think. Remus waited, patiently sipping at his latte, until Harry spoke again.

“It’s… strange. He’s family, technically, but I hardly know anything about him. My parents… I’d heard stories about them. My aunt and uncle would talk about them sometimes, even if it wasn’t always nice, or even true. And since coming to Hogwarts, I learned more about them: from Hagrid, Dumbledore, you - people tell me about them all the time. But Sirius? I didn’t even know about him at all until last summer.”

“I know what you mean.” Remus was hesitant to admit it, to Harry and to himself. But maybe, talking through it would help both of them make heads or tails of their new living situation. “He used to be my… dearest friend.” Harry had enough to come to terms with for one morning; the fact that Remus and Sirius had a complicated romantic history that he was also completely unaware of could be dealt with another time. “Along with your parents, and Peter too, as much as I loathe the idea now. But… Well, we’ve been apart for so long. People change. In some ways, he feels like a stranger to me, too.”

“Have you changed?”

“I suppose I must have, somewhere along the way.” Though, now that he was being pressed on the issue, Remus struggled to come up with specific examples outside of the usual: getting older, more scars, more gray hairs.

“You told me once that Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would have thought it was funny to lure me out of school.”

“We absolutely would have, yes. Deranged serial murderer on the loose or not, we would have thought it a great shame if James’ son didn’t get into at least a little bit of trouble.”

Harry smiled softly. “Moony also had a lot to say about Snape. Something about keeping his nose out of other peoples’ business?”

Remus knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d put a little bit of himself into that map. All four of them had. Yet, every time he heard about a particular insult Mr. Moony had for anyone who attempted to read it, it was always striking how much it sounded like him . Yes, if Severus had shown him anything during their brief stint as coworkers, it was that he’d never really learned how to mind his own business.

“As your teacher, it would have been incredibly inappropriate to make any further comments. As your… er, guardian , that’s probably still true.” Before Harry could look too disappointed, Remus winked at him. “Mr. Moony, on the other hand… Stands by his previous statements.”

“Can you tell me more about it?” Harry asked, eyes wide and eager. “About how you made it? And more about you - all of you?”

“Ah, well - that security mechanism was mostly Sirius’ design. The map itself, however… Believe it or not, that was Peter Pettigrew’s idea.”

Harry’s expression soured immediately. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t think he imagined the final product turning out as grand as it did, mind you. But he was the one to suggest that having a map would help him remember all of the secret rooms and passageways we’d discovered. Once we started mapping them, however… Well, you’ve seen the final product, you know there’s so much more to Hogwarts than any simple map could contain.”

“And the people on the map?”

“ My idea.” It was one that Remus was still proud of, so much so that he smirked behind his cup. “By the time we were adding all of the finishing touches, I was tired of getting caught sneaking around.”

When Harry returned that smirk, Remus knew he’d made a mistake. “But if I was sneaking around with the map, it was a problem?”

“Touché” Remus sighed, reaching for his pastry. “But, none of us had a mass murderer out to get us.” 

“But Sirius wasn’t really a murderer,” Harry pointed out. “So I wasn’t putting myself in any actual danger.”

Remus barely suppressed a laugh. 

“ And, ” Harry continued. “If you hadn’t confiscated the map from me when you did, you wouldn’t have noticed Pettigrew in the castle. Which means you wouldn’t have been there to save Sirius in the Shrieking Shack.”

Save Sirius, is that really what he did? If anything, Remus put them all in even more danger. “Alright, I see your point. Recklessness isn’t always without its rewards.”

Silence passed between them, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Harry had a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him, the title Sirius Black Innocent, Real Killer Apprehended taking up the top half of the page. It was the biggest news in all three of their lives, Remus thought, but he couldn’t help wondering how much longer it would be before there was something else to report on. They’d received so many dirty looks in Diagon Ally, and that had been a relatively short trip. Would they ever be able to exist publicly, without attracting attention?

Probably not. The Boy Who Lived, the only person who had ever escaped Azkaban, and a freshly-outed werewolf who had endangered numerous children by taking up a teaching position at a school. Not exactly your average family. 

“Professor?” 

“Hm?” 

When Remus looked up, Harry was rubbing at the back of his neck, looking every bit like an awkward teenager. “Sorry, I guess I’m not sure what else to call you.”

It hadn’t occurred to Remus, until he heard Harry say it that day in the cafe, but Professor was out of the question. It stirred up that awful feeling of loss in his gut; a feeling he was trying his best to ignore in light of everything he’d gained that week. “Just Remus is fine. Moony seems to suddenly be a popular choice again, if you prefer that.”

Harry nodded. “Remus. Do you think we should bring something back for Sirius?”

Remus carefully weighed their options, before nodding; having an unwanted danish or a scone thrown back at him was far preferable to the pouting that would ensue, if Sirius was feeling more like himself, and the two of them returned to Grimmauld Place snackless.

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea. Might cheer him up a bit.”

Harry smiled. “What do you think he’d like?”

“Provided his tastes haven’t changed too much, he’ll want something tart. He never much cared for rich, sweet things.”

“Sour sweets, eggs over hard, breaking plates, ugly shirts...” Harry counted off the items on his fingers as he listed them. “What else does he like?”

“Music, motorcycles - I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t gone out and bought himself one yet, now that I think about it. He used to love animals, and judging by how close he seemed with Ms. Granger’s cat, that hasn’t changed.”

“He sounds brilliant,” said Harry. If Sirius’ surprise outburst had given him any doubts, their little chat had clearly pushed those aside. 

“Yes,” Remus agreed, his voice warm with affection. “He is, and I think he’d really like that lemon-raspberry scone I saw in the display case.”

Chapter Text

It always felt as if one full moon was barely done and over with when Remus’ body would start aching again, indicating that the next one was coming soon. This moon was no different; as soon as the wounds from that last night at Hogwarts had all but healed themselves, Remus began to feel that familiar ache in his joints. The horrible lethargy was beginning to dig its claws into him; in two days’ time he would be lucky if he could get out of bed.

It made cleaning up Grimmauld Place go from a daunting task to an impossible one. They’d moved on from cleaning up bedrooms, to what Sirius had decided would be their main living area; a large room with giant windows, a grand chandelier, and multiple large bookshelves that required ladders to access. One of those shelves had collapsed after more than a decade of neglect, leaving a messy pile of splintered wood and torn pages. 

Obviously, sorting out that mess was a priority if their ramshackle little family was going to be spending the majority of their time in that room. When they’d all poked their heads in a few days prior, it hadn’t seemed so bad. But now, with the weight of the waxing moon heavy on his shoulders, even bending down to pick up some of the debris made his joints ache. 

How much longer, Remus wondered, before he would be like that bookshelf? A mess, broken beyond repair- 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Sirius swatted his hand away from a stray book. “You look like hell, Moony, you shouldn’t push it.”

Remus huffed, irritated even though he knew that Sirius was right. “What else am I supposed to do, then? Sit around and watch the two of you work all day?”

Sirius pressed his lips together in a thin line, looking around the room as if he hoped to find a good answer to that question. His eyes lit up, and he pointed to the dusty piano in the corner. “You could play us some music.”

Remus sighed. That certainly was the less labor-intensive option, except… “You’ll only complain about what I choose to play.”

“If you don’t play rubbish there won’t be anything to complain about.”

“I’m not a jukebox, Sirius.” Remus made his way over to the piano, resigning himself to fate. “I only know how to play so many things.”

The piano bench creaked under the effort of supporting him, and Remus used his sleeve to wipe the thick layer of dust off of the ivory keys. A few notes in and it was obvious that the instrument needed to be tuned, but in his opinion, Daydream Believer was still easily recognizable. 

“You’re very good, Prof-” Harry stopped himself before he could finish. “Er, Remus.”

“That’s very generous of you, Harry, thank you. I’m a bit rusty, I’m afraid, and I am already self-taught as it is.”

“You taught yourself?” Harry sounded even more impressed.

The tune trailed off into soft, random chords; something that was easy to play, while holding a conversation at the same time. “I… Wasn’t allowed out much, when I was a child. My parents were worried that I might unwittingly spread my condition, or that someone might notice my symptoms, if they got too close. I spent a lot of time reading, writing my own stories, and - until we had to sell the instrument - teaching myself how to play the piano.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Harry asked.

Remus shrugged. “Yes, I think so. In a bittersweet sort of way. It didn’t make the loneliness go away, exactly, but it was easier to ignore it when I had something to do with my hands.”

“I know how that feels.” Harry sounded truly sympathetic, which was not quite what Remus expected from him. “I used to help one of the neighbors with chores around her house. It wasn’t fun , but…”

“It kept you busy?” Remus supplied.

Harry nodded. “Something like that.”

It dawned on Remus that Sirius was being terribly quiet, for someone who had been so curious about what his godson’s life had been like in the years they were seperated. When Remus looked up, Sirius had moved from the shelf he had been dusting. His eyes scanned the room twice, before they found Sirius, standing so still in front of an open glass cabinet that he seemed to blend into his surroundings.

“Sirius?” When he didn't respond, Remus cleared his throat. “Padfoot?”

Sirius, startled, and turned around. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, just…” Remus trailed off, noticing for the first time that Sirius was holding onto something.  “Wondering what you were staring at, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Sirius looked down at the shiny object, as if he was surprised to be holding it. “I’m not really sure. I don’t recognize it at all.”

“This house is full of old junk,” Remus reminded him. “You can’t expect to remember every little thing-”

Sirius shook his head, eyes still fixed on the bauble in his bony hands. “No, I would remember something like this…” 

That seemed unlikely. For as long as Remus had known him, Sirius had been indifferent to the family legacy at best, and outright hostile towards it at worst. Even without a dozen years in Azkaban to addle his mind, it was hard to imagine Sirius remembering every horrible little trinket in his mother’s horrible old house. He simply wouldn’t have cared enough to focus on those details.

Remus glanced over at Harry, who looked just as concerned as he felt. “What is it?”

“It’s a necklace,” Sirius said, holding it up for them to see. “A locket, I think?”

Before either of them could ask more questions, Kreacher appeared, apparating to the top of the cabinet in a puff of gray smoke. It took less than a few seconds for him to tackle Sirius to the ground, and begin scrambling for the locket.

“Don’t touch it-” he snarled. “You mustn't touch Master Regulus’ locket!”

“Get off of me!” Sirius hollered, successfully dislodging the house elf. He didn’t manage to throw him very far, but Sirius was able to stand again with some strained effort, the locket still clutched firmly in his fist. “What the hell are you on about-”

“Master Regulus. The locket belongs to Master Regulus.” 

“Regulus is dead , you crazy old bastard.” Sirius took a half-step back, glaring down at Kreacher. “Why does this piece of junk matter so much?”

Kreacher finally rose to his feet, staring up at Sirius with just as much vitriol. “Because it belongs to Master Regulus.”

Sirius glanced at Remus, his expression both confused and disgusted, before he turned his attention back to Kreacher. “I order you to tell me why this locket is so important.”

Kreacher's nasty stare wavered, and then he broke down completely. Remus felt his chest ache as he watched him collapse onto the floor, writhing in agony, as he pounded a closed fist against his own skull again and again-

Sirius, on the other hand, only became more angry. “Tell me, or I’ll destroy it!”

“Master Sirius cannot destroy the locket-”

“You think I’m bluffing?!”

“ No! ” Kreacher stopped striking himself “No one can destroy the locket. Kreacher has tried.”

“Who is Regulus?” Harry asked. “And why were you trying to destroy his locket?”

“Regulus is- was , my younger brother.” Sirius said, looking just as confused as Harry. “Go on, Kreacher - answer the question. If this stupid thing is so important to you, why destroy it?”

Kreacher's expression twisted into something awful. Remus let out a sigh of relief, when he answered the question instead of striking himself again. “Because Master Regulus asked Kreacher to do it.”

Finally, Remus broke his silence. “Why did he do that?”

“Kreacher doesn’t have to answer to the likes of you-”

“You will answer his question.” Sirius instructed, hands on his hips. “In fact, you’ll do anything Remus asks you to. And Harry, as well. And don’t you dare lie to any of us.”

Kreacher growled, but again, he answered, “Because the locket belonged to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Remus felt his heart plummet. 

“Voldemort?” Harry took a step forward, looking quite determined, even though his face was rapidly losing its color. “What was Sirius’ brother doing with something that belongs to him?”

“Voldemort probably gave it to him.” Sirius said dismissively. “I’m sure Mom and Dad were quite proud when little Reggie joined the Death Eaters.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Your brother was a Death Eater?”

Sirius nodded. “Served the Dark Lord until the day he died.”

Kreacher shook his head so fast that it had to hurt. “Master Regulus died defying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Again, Remus and Sirius exchanged a surprised glance. Remus didn’t know Regulus Black particularly well. After he joined his older brother at Hogwarts, he was sorted into Slytherin, and it was only a matter of time before he had more interest in hanging out with his like-minded friends than he ever had in getting closer to Sirius and their crowd. Away from Sirius’ rebellious influence, it seemed inevitable that Regulus would rise to the occasion and join the Death Eaters.

Remus still remembered the last time he saw the younger Black brother. He had been on an Order mission with Dorcas Meadowes and Benjy Fenwick, when they were ambushed by a group of Death Eaters confident and brazen enough to not bother wearing masks. 

That was also the last time Remus - or anyone else, for that matter - saw Benjy Fenwick alive. It was hard to imagine that the same Regulus Black that had attacked them so brutally would turn against the cause he was so passionate and willing to kill for.

Apparently, Sirius agreed with that assessment. There was no more cold temper in his eyes as he stared at Kreacher. Only disbelief. “And why would my dear brother want to do something like that?”

“Master Regulus realized that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cares only for himself. So, Kreacher and Master Regulus stole the locket.”

“But why?” Remus asked. “It’s just a locket.”

Kreacher turned to face him, and glared. Remus half-expected Kreacher to spit at him, rather than answer his question. “Master Regulus said that locket is the key to his immortality. The Dark Lord cannot truly be defeated while the locket exists.”

All three of them must have had the same question, but Harry was the one who asked, “Immortality? What does a necklace have to do with that?”

“Kreacher does not know," he sounded exasperated, and Remus could hardly blame him. “All Kreacher knows is that Master Regulus died retrieving the locket from its hiding place, and told Kreacher to destroy the locket. But Kreacher could not do it.”

For the first time since they started questioning Kreacher, Sirius looked at the necklace in his hands. He looked as if he were in some sort of trance, almost; like he was seeing so much more than just an old piece of jewelry, hearing more than the sounds of his breathing and the old house creaking around them.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Harry finally asked.

“I do,” Sirius said, with not even a hint of doubt. “As crazy as all of that sounds. He has to tell the truth, because I commanded him to. And besides...” He paused, lips parted, that dazed look returning to his face again. After a few moments, Sirius swallowed, shook his head, and looked back up at them. “Something isn’t right about this thing. It’s… Well, I don’t know how to explain it. Come here and I’ll show you.”

Remus nodded, crossing the room to stand next to Sirius. Harry followed, and if he had any fear or doubt, he didn’t show it. Sirius passed the locket to Harry first, who handled the trinket carefully, as if it could shatter in his hands if he was too rough with it. Immediately, his expression shifted, and up close Remus could see the hair on Harry’s arms stand on end.

“I see what you mean.” Harry quickly handed Remus the locket. All of the care he’d exercised moments ago was gone, as if he wanted to get the locket out of his own hands as fast as he possibly could.

The locket was clearly old, ornate, and beautiful despite being so tarnished that Remus wasn’t sure if any amount of polish could restore it to its original glory. He ran his thumb over the intricate, jeweled S on the front and felt an icy cold chill run up his spine as he did so.

As soon as his own fingers were clasped around it, Remus understood why Harry was so eager to be rid of the nasty little thing. Remus already felt dreary and drained thanks to the approaching full moon, but something else quickly began to sink into him, right down to his bones. He felt… irritable, heavy, and he could have sworn he heard someone, or something, whispering indistinctly. That voice, if it existed at all, seemed to be coming from inside his own head, rather than from outside of it.

He tore his eyes away from the locket, desperate to hand the horrible object to someone else. Neither Harry nor Sirius extended their hands. “Should we open it?”

“The locket cannot be opened,” Kreacher said, his disdain suggesting that such a fact should have been obvious. 

“And I’m not exactly in a hurry to try,” said Sirius. “Not until we know more about what’s inside.”

Remus, despite the heavy, depressive cloud lingering over him, managed to squeeze out a smirk. “You’re not curious about what’s inside? You are getting old, aren’t you Padfoot?”

“Older and wiser ,” Sirius said, snatching the locket away. 

It took all of five seconds, before Remus realized how ridiculous that taunt had been. Clearly, opening the locket would be a terrible idea, even if it was possible. What had he been thinking? Were those words his own, or had the locket influenced him, somehow?

Remus pushed that thought down. “What should we do with it, in the meantime?”

“I’m going to put it in the safe,” said Sirius, with a finality in his voice that suggested he would not so much as entertain an alternative solution. “Immediately. And it is going to stay there until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.” He crouched down, so that he could speak with Kreacher on his level, his eyes ablaze once more. “And you are not to tell anyone outside of this room anything about this locket, or its whereabouts. Am I clear?”

Kreacher's expression twisted into something uncomfortable, and he spat his words, “Crystal clear, Master Sirius.” 

Sirius rose to his full height, once again examining the locket. This time, his gaze was fierce and deliberate, that horrible far-off stare long gone. “Well, so much for this wretched house being safe.”

Chapter Text

Sirius decided that an entire wing of 12 Grimmauld Place would be designated for Remus and his monthly werewolf transformations. Once they ran out of Wolfsbane Potion, the wolf would destroy everything in its path, with no regard for its monetary or sentimental value. It made Remus wonder what particularly horrible memories Sirius associated with that part of the house. 

For the time being Remus was grateful, both for the space and for the fact that it was far away from the part of the house the three of them had designated as their living quarters. There would be no risk of Harry accidentally stumbling upon a werewolf when he got up to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. 

Harry, with all of the social grace of an average teenage boy, excused himself immediately after dinner and retreated to his bedroom for the night. That was all well and good, as far as Remus was concerned. There were three more years of summers left before Harry’s seventh year; at least a dozen full moons. If the two of them were to remain housemates, the odds of him laying eyes on the wolf weren’t exactly small, especially considering Harry’s habit of sneaking around at night in dangerous places he shouldn’t be.

All the more reason to track down a reliable source for more potion, but that would have to wait. For now, Remus was content to enjoy his book, sip at his hot chocolate, and try to ignore the apprehension that waxed and waned along with the moon. He had removed his clothing, folded it up and left it for himself to find in the morning. The blanket draped over his shoulders was a little too thick for the summertime, but Remus wasn’t quite comfortable enough to walk around the house naked yet. 

Sirius said the room Remus had settled into for the evening used to be his father’s drawing room, though his mother had apparently done some redecorating after he had passed. 

“Not sure what the hell she wanted to get up to in here,” Sirius had said, as he peeled away some of the garish wallpaper. “But I’m sure she’d be livid if she knew what we planned to do with it. A perfect fit, don’t you think?” 

At the time, Remus agreed, more to appease Sirius and his constant desire to rebel against his dead parents than anything else. Honestly, it didn’t matter much to him. If he was going to maintain his humanity during his transformation, he could endure it just about anywhere.

Just as the sun was starting to disappear beneath the neighboring houses, the door opened. Remus, thankful for the fact that his own modesty wouldn't have allowed him to sit out completely nude, dropped his book, tugged his blanket around his shoulders tightly, and looked up to see Sirius, clad only in a black, silk bathrobe, standing in the doorframe, glass of wine in hand.

“Nothing yet?” he asked.

“Obviously,” said Remus. “What are you doing here?”

Sirius’ expression twisted into something between confused and offended. “I’m here for the moon, of course. I spent several years learning how to shapeshift so that you wouldn’t have to spend nights like these alone, remember? It was a whole ordeal.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten - it’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Remus meant it. As reckless as it was, as much as he had scolded his friends when he found out what they were up to, he could never shake the overwhelming sense of happiness that came along with knowing that the other boys would go to such extreme lengths for him. Decades later, the thought still made him smile. “But I don’t need you to keep the wolf occupied if I take the potion.” 

“It’s not just about kicking your ass when you need it,” Sirius said, pausing to sip at his wine. “It’s about keeping the loneliness away.”

Oh. There it was: that unforgettable warm feeling. “I see.”

Sirius turned on his heels and slowly began making his way towards the door. “If you’d rather I not be here, I can go-”

“No, wait-!”

Sirius paused, not bothering to turn back around, or even look over his shoulder. He was waiting. Remus was certain that Sirius was smirking, enjoying every second of the suspense even though he had to know that Remus was too weak to let him go.

“... Stay.” If it weren’t for the exhaustion, Remus could have kicked himself. Did he really have to sound so desperate? “You should stay.”

Sirius spun around to face him, and sure enough, there was that familiar grin. “I thought you might feel that way.”

He sat down next to Remus on the couch, and it was impossible not to be acutely aware of just how close they were. When Sirius crossed his legs, his knee pressed against Remus’ thigh through his blanket; just barely, but still noticeable. Remus could smell him, too: his wine and that cologne he managed to acquire. The same scent he used to wear was apparently still in production. Remus would have recognized it anywhere, not matter how much time went by.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute when the silence became too much to handle, and Remus spoke again. “Thank you, Padfoot. I’m sure there are more pleasant ways to spend your evening-”

“There you go again.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to make some great, personal sacrifice out of the goodness of my heart. I’m here because I want to be with you, Moony.”

Remus felt his heart jump into the back of his throat. For a moment, he thought the rush of adrenaline meant that his transformation was starting, but several seconds passed with no other signs. “You want to be with me?”

“What was your first clue?” Sirius polished off the rest of his wine, before setting the glass on the floor next to his bare feet. “I invited you to live with me, didn’t I? Do you think I would have done that if I didn’t want you around? If I planned on leaving you to fend for yourself?”

“Right,” Remus sighed, deflated. All of that was perfectly platonic, wasn’t it? 

“And… I know you have. Been fending for yourself, that is. I’m sure you’ve done a fine job of it! You’re still here, after all. But…” Sirius scratched at his beard, and Remus could see in his eyes that he was thinking uncharacteristically carefully about his choice of words. “I hate that you had to in the first place. I was supposed to be there with you. You were never supposed to have to go it alone.”

Remus tightened his grip on his blanket. “It’s alright, I got used to it-”

“That’s my point!” Sirius shouted. “You shouldn’t have needed to get used to it! I should have been with you, this whole time. All of those years, you struggled, and I could have stopped it-”

“Padfoot,” Remus reached out, grabbing onto one of Sirius’ hands, to stop him from flailing about while he ranted and raved. 

Sirius’ mouth shut tight, as soon as their hands were clasped together. He swallowed; his breathing looked as if it were labored, but his eyes looked softer. Tentatively, he shifted his fingers, so that their hands were linked in a more comfortable way; fingers slotted together. “Moony?”

There was something there, Remus was sure of it. Something behind those beautiful gray eyes, and if he could have had his way, he would have spent the rest of the night looking at them, deciphering whatever it was Sirius wanted to tell him, even if he wasn’t quite ready to say it.

But the wolf, as it always did, decided to rear its head at the most inconvenient moment. With the first twitch of pain, Remus pulled his hand back, curling in on himself as the transformation began. He thought Sirius might be saying something, but his heart was pounding in his ear so loudly that the other man might as well be shouting his name from a thousand miles away.

For all of its merits, the Wolfsbane Potion did absolutely nothing to ease the pain of a werewolf’s transformation. If anything, it made that part of the ordeal worse. Remus was entirely himself, and remembered every painful second of his body morphing, breaking and re-shaping itself. Everything ached, from his skin down to his bones. He had never seen the transformation himself - he had decided long ago to spare himself that experience, whether it be via mirror or video tape - but everyone he knew who had witnessed it described it as grisly. 

When he opened his eyes, Padfoot was looking at him, head cocked to the side. He let out a loud, happy bark, tail wagging, before taking off down the hallway. 

Remus followed.

Remus was always sore the morning after the full moon. The transformation left his entire body sore and aching, and it wasn’t unusual for the wolf to inflict some sort of injury, especially if he couldn’t get a full dose of Wolfsbane Potion.

But, for the first time since his school days, Remus awoke feeling not only sore, but well rested; the kind of rest one only gets after a period of true physical exhaustion. As nice as it had been to curl up under his desk and sleep the moon away for nine months during his professorship, it did nothing to burn off any excess energy. Chasing Padfoot around until they were both too tired to go any further left him feeling entirely worn out by the time they finally curled up to sleep. 

Curled up to sleep. Remus opened his eyes - only to close them immediately when he discovered just how bright the sunlight leaking through the curtains was. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but now that he was becoming more and more awake with each passing second, Remus realized that was because Sirius was behind him. He could feel his body, warm compared to the cold floor underneath them, pressed up against his back, one hand tracing lines up and down his ribcage.

Which meant that Sirius was awake .

Remus shifted, so that he was flat on his back. He wasn’t sure what he expected Sirius to do when he realized that Remus wasn’t asleep anymore, but watching him sit up, smile, and brush Remus’ hair out of his eyes exceeded all of his wildest expectations.

“You look like shit,” Sirius said affectionately. 

“Thank you.”

“You should go back to sleep. I’ve got some crackers and water for you, when you wake up.”

He wasn’t sure when Sirius had gotten up to retrieve those things, but he nodded in agreement. The fact that they were both naked wasn’t lost on Remus, even though he was too exhausted to be embarrassed about it, or over analyze every detail about their situation.

“I’ll be here too,” Sirius added. “When you’re done sleeping. I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus smiled lazily. “Are you sure you don’t have better things to-”

“Shut up. Didn’t I tell you last night that I’m here because I want to be?”

Remus nodded.

“So go to sleep.” Sirius pulled the blanket over Remus’ head. 

Normally, that was easier said than done, but between the deep-seated exhaustion and the overwhelming sense of comfort that came along with Sirius simply being there, Remus found himself drifting off easily. Unlike the night before, it wasn’t a sound or restful sleep; after waking up once, Remus became painfully aware of the hard wooden floor under him. 

The fact that Sirius was incapable of sitting still didn’t help matters. Even when they finally settled into a comfortable position, with Remus resting his head in Sirius’ lap while he thumbed through the book Remus had started the night before, he was still constantly tapping his fingers against the cover, scratching at his scalp, or laughing when something he read amused him. 

There were plenty of things he could be doing: checking up on Harry, eating something, talking to Sirius about the book, getting some proper rest and recuperation in his own bed… but every time it crossed Remus’ mind that he should probably do one, or all of those things, it seemed much less important than spending another minute right where he was. 

Chapter Text

In a lot of ways, life at Grimmauld Place didn’t change at all after that night of unexpected intimacy. They still took all of their meals together, spent their evenings listening to music and reading in the drawing room, and went off to their separate bedrooms when it was time to sleep. They still went shopping for groceries as a family, even though Harry was the only one who ever actually cooked anything. They made frequent trips to the cafe during the day, and continued to work their way through the Black family’s ancient and noble stash of fine wines and liquors in the evening.  

But in a lot of other ways - ways Remus was sure he couldn’t possibly be imagining - everything changed drastically. Physical affection between Sirius and himself came more frequently and easily than ever. Sirius would always sit next to him in their booth at the cafe, a little too close, so their legs were touching. He didn’t bat an eye when Remus draped his arm over the back of the living room sofa when they sat next to each other. They walked arm-in-arm if there was ever the slightest possibility of getting separated in a crowd. 

On paper, it wasn’t much, but compared to thirteen years of going without, it was everything. Even when those little displays weren’t actively happening, the fact that they happened at all improved Remus’ mood substantially.

It might all come crashing down around him if he pushed too hard, or tried to express his feelings through words rather than tentative actions. But that had happened once before, hadn’t it? At the ripe young age of sixteen, Remus had pushed, and even though Sirius initially rejected the idea, he came around to it eventually. He wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of repeating the scenario, but seeing an apparent pattern in their interactions gave Remus hope.

And so, he decided to enjoy what they had while they had it, and wait.

“It’s always been a waiting game with him,” Remus reminded himself. He had just returned from an evening walk. Alone; both Harry and Sirius insisted that it was too humid. They were right, of course - Remus realized that immediately after opening the front door. But getting up and moving around was good for him, and the cafe sometimes gave away their pastries at the end of the day, rather than throw them out. "Waiting, and knowing when and how hard to push."

“He’s going to get bored of you, you know.”

Remus so rarely had to look up to speak to someone, but the portrait of Walburga Black had been mounted so high that he had to tilt his head back, to look at her. “Hm?”

“Sirius,” she clarified. “He will get bored of you, and he will leave you behind.”

“I know who you meant,” Remus would be lying if he said that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at least a dozen times since the two of them had come to live in Sirius’ childhood home. But, his body ached from his transformation, and he had little patience to hear his own insecurities voiced by such a vile person. “What makes you think he will?”

“Sirius hates to be tied down, to anything or anyone. It’s in his nature. You’re not an exception and you’re a fool if you think that you are.”

Remus smirked. “You think you know him better than I do?”

“I know him well enough. And I know you, Lupin.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me. You never bothered to learn anything about your son’s friends-”

“As much as it pains me to think of you feeling lonely, there is an odd sense of comfort in looking up at the stars, and knowing that you’re somewhere, looking at those same stars, and thinking about me the same way I’m thinking about you.”

The words were familiar, though it took Remus a few moments to place them. When he did, and realized that those words were his own, he felt what little color his face had left in it vanish completely.

It was the portrait’s turn to smirk.

“You read my letters to him.”

“Every single one,” Her tone was giddy, as if she were about to burst into laughter. “You kept me quite busy, with how often you wrote to him. It was nauseating after a while.”

“Sirius never complained.”

The portrait rolled her eyes. “He was a teenager, and foolish. I’d hoped he would outgrow it. Or at the very least, see reason when I confronted him about it.”

“You confronted him? About us?”

“Of course I did! A youthful affair is one thing, but Sirius was my first-born son, and he was getting in too deep. It was time for him to take his place as the head of this family, and leave that foolishness behind him! He didn’t see it that way, of course. Sirius was always so defiant - he’d do just about anything, if he thought it would get under my skin.  He left that very night.”

Remus stared up at her, determined not to let his expression waver even in the face of that earth-shattering revelation. “You’re the foolish one, if you think defying your wishes was the only reason Sirius wanted to leave.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone, werewolf.” It was the first time she broke her calm facade in front of him. This was the Walburga that Remus knew, the one Sirius told him horror stories about while they hid under the covers of his four-poster bed, safe and sound at Hogwarts. “You think so highly of yourself, parading about my ancient and noble house as if you belong here. As if you’re fit for more than licking the dirt off of Sirius’ shoes!”

Remus couldn’t help finding that amusing. “You disowned him, and you still hold him in such high regard?”

“Sirius may be a traitor, but his blood will always be superior to yours, filthy half-breed. Never forget that.”

“I think we’re finished here.”

“Don’t you dare leave while I’m talking to you!” Remus had already turned around, by the time she began her tirade. “Get back here, Lupin!  There’s more to discuss!”

“Like what?” Remus didn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he made to leave the foyer. “You’ve made your thoughts about me perfectly clear. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before-”

“This is not about you, you freeloading pansy!” She snapped, and Remus was almost certain he felt the floor shake underneath him. “This is about Regulus, and that horrible trinket Sirius has locked up in the family safe!”

Remus stopped in his tracks, his sock-covered foot centimeters above the floor. Suddenly, despite being wrapped in the comfort of his favorite jumper, he felt incredibly cold. 

The locket.

Remus gulped, and slowly turned back around. If she knew something, anything at all about that terrible locket, he would endure any horrible insult she had for him to get that information. “What about it?”

Walburga Black’s portrait huffed, straightened her blouse, and it was as if every ounce of that heated temper had evaporated. She was once again the picturesque, cold, proud pureblooded witch that she so badly wanted everyone around her to believe she was when she was alive. “Kreacher told you that the locket must be destroyed if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is to be defeated. I don’t pretend to be an expert, and by the time Regulus had decided to betray the Dark Lord, he had long stopped confiding in me. But I do know how he unraveled that secret…”

She was enjoying the drama, Remus realized, and under other circumstances, he might take his leave, rather than indulge the bigoted old painting. But, if she really did know something about how to defeat Voldemort, he had no choice but to play into her little show. “How?”

“In the east wing of the house, there is a library. The Black family has had centuries to amass its collection of magical texts. Some of the books in our collection contain knowledge that has long since been forbidden in wizarding society. Regulus spent his last months pouring over those books. There was one in particular he seemed almost obsessed with.”

“Which book? What was the title?”

She sighed, “I don’t remember. It was black, with gold lettering on the spine.”

There couldn’t have been a more vague or irritating answer, and Remus could feel his patience growing thinner by the second. “So you’re suggesting I go to the library, somehow find this book that I know next to nothing about, and use that to destroy the locket?”

“Regulus died for this,” she said, and if Remus didn’t know better, he’d think that she was about to cry. If not for the loss of her beloved son, for the loss of her even more beloved bloodline. “He’s already done most of the work for you. The least you could do is see it through to the end, if you’re going to desecrate our house with your continued presence.” 

“And… why are you telling me all of this? You clearly hate me.”

Walburga did something Remus never would have guessed he would see her do, not in a million years. She laughed. A soft, lighthearted chuckle, as if he’d just shared an amusing little story. “Do you think Sirius would listen to anything I have to say? He’d sooner die than lend me an ear even if his life depended on it, I think that’s one thing you and I can agree on.”

Reluctantly, Remus nodded. “It’s not a particularly long list.”

“It certainly isn’t. And, I trust you understand that this changes nothing. You are simply my last resort.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. I told you, everything you need to know is in the library. Weren’t you listening to a single word I said? I thought wolves were meant to have keen senses, but I suppose-”

“Alright, I get it.” Remus rubbed at the bags under his eyes. “I’ll check the library.”

Walburga held her head up high. “Good. Now, get out of my sight; I’ve had about as much as I can stand of you for one day, Lupin.”

Remus didn’t dignify that with so much as a goodbye . 

He should have gone straight to the library. If what the portrait said was true, finding that book should have gone to the top of their to-do list. Remus, Sirius, and Harry should have dropped everything, and spent the rest of the summer looking for it.

But something else Walburga had told him filled Remus with a sense of urgency that he couldn’t quite shake, so instead of heading straight towards the east wing (the location of which he didn’t actually know to begin with), Remus made his way to the room they’d turned into the living room. 

Sirius wasn't the only one who needed an occasional push.

Just as he’d hoped, Sirius was there. Standing next to the record player, his back towards Remus, thumbing through the records Remus had been able to find in his expandable trunks, alternating between making soft sounds of intrigue and disappointment. It had only been a few short months since his return to a somewhat normal life as a free man, and already he looked healthier. Fuller. His posture and movements were as effortlessly elegant as Remus remembered them. 

Remus didn’t think he’d been particularly noisy when entering the room, but Sirius knew he was there. He didn’t bother to look up from his task, or greet him properly. “Where do you find all of this rubbish?” Sirius asked instead, continuing to flip through the records.

“They’re not rubbish,” Remus said, though his tone was gentle and unargumentative. It was hard to muster up any of that, after the revelation he’d just had. “They’re good. If you’d give them a chance you’d probably like them. Different, but good.”

“I’ve tried, but it’s all so… So moody, " Sirius spat the last word disdainfully, “If you think they’re all so great, come over here and pick something you’d think I’d like. I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Remus teased, though he still crossed the room and began flipping through the records. It didn’t help that he had no particular organization system, and that an undetermined amount of his collection was still buried in a trunk somewhere, still waiting to be unpacked. Remus flipped through the box once, twice, three times, before deciding on Disintegration. 

Well, he thought with a sigh, That's as good as anything else I'm likely to find in here. Hopefully Sirius enjoyed it. Or, the conversation would go as well as Remus hoped it would, and Sirius wouldn’t be paying terribly close attention anyway.

By the time Remus was finished dropping the needle, Sirius was finished with his own task at the liquor cabinet. When Remus turned to face him, he was already approaching with two glasses.

“Was that my mother’s portrait I heard screeching?”

“Yes, it was.”

“You don’t have to put up with her, you know.” Sirius handed him his glass, more than half-full of a red wine so potent Remus could already smell it. “In fact, we should probably blast her off the wall - give her a taste of her own medicine! Wouldn’t that be something?”

“You’re not wrong,” Remus couldn’t help smiling, at the thought. It would certainly make life at Grimmauld Place a lot more peaceful. “But, she did say something that-”

“Don’t take a word of it to heart, Moony. You know how she is - the whole lot of them. None of it’s true.”

“Even the part about how, when you would come back here for the summer, she used to read our private letters?” 

The little color that Sirius’ face had to begin with vanished immediately.

“And the part about how that was the reason you left home?”

“It’s not as if that’s the only reason,” Sirius mumbled, staring at his glass as if, suddenly, that horrible old wine was the most interesting thing in the world. “More like… the straw that broke the hippogriff’s back. So don’t go blaming yourself for that , too.”

“I wasn’t going to-”

“It was a long time coming.”

“I know it was.” 

“Everyone knew it,” Sirius finally looked up, his eyes frenzied and far away. “I knew it, she knew it. It had taken my entire life, but we finally hit our breaking point. She was practically looking for an excuse to throw me out, at that point. I could have sneezed in the wrong direction, and that would have been more than enough to do me in.”

“But you never told me- ”

“What was I supposed to say? Moony, it was your homoerotic love notes that finally got me disowned? ” Sirius began pacing, graceful even in his mania, somehow managing not to spill a drop of wine even though his movements were frantic. “No, absolutely not; you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself.”

Remus finally took a sip of his wine. It tasted just as bitter as it smelled; up close, the odor was so strong that Remus already felt tipsy. “Still, I think I had a right to-”

“Not that any of it matters now.” Sirius paused his raving, to take a drink from his own glass. His sour expression suggested that he enjoyed it just as much as Remus did. “I was disowned, I lost you, lost everything, and now I’m right back here, where it all started. And you know what?”

Remus shook his head.

“I don’t even have the letters!” Sirius threw his free hand into the air “She kept them, can you believe it Moony?! They were mine, and she took them from me! I can’t even go back and reread them- You’re a beautiful writer, you know. No one’s ever written about me like that - before or since.”

No, Remus didn’t know. Sirius had never complimented his writing before. If anything, there were times where he seemed to loathe the notes Remus would write for him. 

It was a small confession on its own, though it probably didn’t mean much. Sirius was vain, of course he had enjoyed reading letters full of praise. But it wasn’t just the admission that Sirius had, in fact, liked receiving those letters. It was that, coupled with hint after clue after implication, for more than a month now. It was Sirius snuggling up next to him while they slept, linking their arms together when they went out shopping, spending the full moon with him even though the Wolfsbane Potion meant that Moony didn’t need Padfoot’s presence to soothe him. None of those things were a product of his imagination. They weren’t coincidences, or wishful thinking. They were real, and that made Remus feel emboldened enough to act.

“I could write you more letters,” Remus offered, “As many letters as you want.”

Sirius laughed, somewhere between nervous and amused. “Moony, we live together. You don’t need to write to me. We can just talk.”

“Alright, then.” Remus nodded, placing his wineglass on a nearby bookcase, where it would no doubt remain forgotten until someone had an inclination to tidy up the room. He walked towards Sirius, whose eyes widened with surprise, but he didn’t fight, argue, or even resist as Remus took his glass from his hands, sat it on the coffee table. His expression shifted into something more akin to curiosity when Remus placed one hand on Sirius’ hip, guiding him forward.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked, though the way he reached for Remus’ hand without being prompted suggested that he knew exactly what they were doing.

“Dancing,” Remus replied. “With you.”

“I thought you wanted to talk?” 

“I do,” Remus said. “We can do more than one thing at a time.”

“We’ll see about that. You used to be a terrible dancer. Always stepping on my feet. You’re half the reason I wanted those steel-toed boots.”

“But you didn’t want to stop dancing with me,” Remus pointed out. He could practically feel courage swelling in his chest. 

“No,” Sirius admitted, “No, I didn’t.”

Remus took a step back, lifting his arm so he could twirl his dance partner. Sirius, caught by surprise, stumbled through the first step, but otherwise spun flawlessly, before stepping back into Remus’ arms. 

“Do you, still?” Remus asked. “Want to dance with me?”

Sirius, bright and brilliant as ever, felt the extra weight in Remus’ question, heard all of the words that Remus didn’t say, all of the other questions he asked without actually asking them. It was obvious, even when he turned his head to the side; his knee-jerk reaction was always to hide any weakness. Remus watched, their movements slowing, as Sirius took a few labored breaths, before turning his attention back to the conversation.

“I’m dancing with you right now, aren’t I?” He pulled himself in closer, as if to emphasize that fact. “I’ll dance with you as much as you like.”

It was one thing to have a hunch, to be almost certain that Sirius wanted what he wanted. It was another thing entirely to have it confirmed by the man himself. They had been tiptoeing towards this moment since they embraced in the Shrieking Shack, right up to the ledge over the course of several weeks, and now it was time to jump. “I want to do much more than dance with you, I’m afraid.”

“Well?” The corner of Sirius’ mouth turned up in a mischievous smirk. “What’s stopping you? I’m right here.”

Yes, he was. Sirius was right there, standing in front of him, taunting him, all but shouting at Remus to grab him by the front of his shirt and take what he wanted.

So he did. There wasn’t much space left between them, but Remus closed whatever gap remained, and pressed their lips together. It was a soft kiss, their lips just barely gliding against each other, but the deep, guttural sound that erupted from deep in Sirius’ throat would have suggested it was anything but a gentle, tentative gesture.

“Padfoot?” Remus’ voice was soft, his lips still brushing against Sirius’ mouth while he spoke. “Is everything alri-”

“ Yes.” Sirius’ voice was uncharacteristically desperate, as he tucked himself into his old favorite place; head under Remus’ chin, face buried in his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “I haven’t felt this alright since- I can’t even remember when, Moony.”

“So…” Remus returned the embrace, his own hold much less restrictive. For once, he wasn't worried about losing the good thing he had right in front of him. That fear would come later, Remus was sure of it. But in that moment, all he could think about was Sirius, and how the love of his life had found his way back to him. Despite Azkaban, despite the breakup and the heartbreak and the betrayal, Sirius came back to him. “You want it, too - More than dancing?”

“Of course I do!” Sirius pulled back so quickly that Remus felt his heart jump. He was doing his best, Remus assumed, to look irritated even though he was just as ridiculously happy as Remus was. “Was it not obvious enough?”

“I just…” Remus trailed off. More had happened to him in the past year than in the previous decade; so many realizations, so many emotions, packed into such a short time - how could he even begin to describe it all? “I was afraid I was reading too much into things. You know. Wishful thinking, letting myself get carried away in a fantasy-”

“Moony,” Sirius interrupted, pressing a thin, callused finger against his lips to silence him. “You weren’t imagining things.”

Remus nodded.

Sirius shifted his hands, letting his finger glide past Remus cheekbones, until he could bury all of his fingers in his hair. “I’ve never known you to read too much into things, unless you were convincing yourself of something terrible.”

“I see.” Remus couldn’t even pretend to be insulted. Not when those elegant, dexterous fingers were scratching gently at his scalp.

“I want to do much more than dance with you. It, uh, might take me a while to get all of my stamina back.” Sirius’ lips turned up into a half-smile. Remus knew that expression well - it was the one Sirius wore when he wanted someone to laugh with him, and not at him. It was the smile he used when he said the horrible thing he was worried that someone else might be thinking; he took the power to hurt away, if he could say the hurtful words first.

“It’s alright.” Remus rubbed his arms, slow and soothing. “It’s been a long time for me too. Longer, probably.”

Sirius let out a dry, hollow laugh. “I wasn’t exactly getting lucky in Azkaban, Moony.”

“Did you sleep with anyone after we separated?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, quickly becoming exasperated with this conversation. “You can hardly be mad about that when we were properly broken up, Remus-”

“That’s not what I’m getting at.” He tried his best, to keep his voice even, with his heart pounding in his chest, and every limb shaking like the Whomping Willow. “Well? Did you?”

“Yes, alright? I did. I was hurt, bloody heartbroken , and I went out looking for the best distraction I could think of; a good, rough shag with a complete stranger. There, are you happy?”

“Well, then…” Remus hoped that Sirius would understand what he was saying, but all Remus got was an irritated stare. So much for being in tune with each other after more than a decade apart. “Then I’ve still gone longer.”

The staring didn’t stop, but Sirius gasped so deeply that, under other circumstances, Remus might have been proud to get such a rise out of him. “No! Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised-”

“Moony!”

“Padfoot.”

“I don’t believe it! You? You, went almost fourteen years , nearly half your life-”

“You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I’m not!”  Sirius held his hands up in mock-surrender. “I mean, I’m not trying to, but- Merlin! Moony, you used to be so damn horny all of the time! I don’t know how you managed it.”

“A little self-control, a lot of alone time.”

“There you go again, with that self-control rubbish. You’re ridiculous. It’s not as if you were in love with me this whole time.”

Remus looked away, before he could think better of it. “It’s more complicated than loving you or not loving you in any given moment.”

“Well, go on then. Explain it to me. We’ve got plenty of time.”

It was so unfair. When Sirius wanted to be brooding and mysterious, there was almost nothing that Remus could do to crack him. Months went by between Remus confessing to Sirius for the first time, and Sirius finally cornering him, declaring that he wanted to give "this thing" a shot. It was almost two years before the I love yous weren’t so rare that Remus could count them on his fingers. 

But when the tables were turned, all Sirius had to do was ask, and Remus was a helpless, open book.

“Sirius…” Remus rubbed his tired eyes, hating himself for being so easy, when nothing else in life was. “You’re the love of my life. Even when I didn’t want you to be, even when I hated you more than I’ve ever hated anyone or anything before in my life, I knew it to be true. I also knew that, even if I could find someone who was willing to, um… Overlook some of my more unsavory characteristics-”

“More rubbish.” Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “You’re brilliant, werewolf or not, anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

“- Even if that were the case, I knew I could never love them, the way I loved you. I just don’t have it in me to do that again. There were plenty of times that I wished I did, believe me. But it didn’t seem fair, to enter into a relationship with someone else. Everyone deserves to be loved the way I love you, and knowing that I could never give them that, well... I decided that was just one more reason that I was better off alone.”

Sirius tapped his chin, his eyes far away. It felt like an eternity had passed before he spoke again. “So, which is it?”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Pardon?”

“Which is it?” Sirius snapped in a flash of impatience, his temper flaring up behind his eyes. “You did love me, or you do love me?”

Remus couldn’t help the slow, tender smile that slowly spread across his face. Sirius might not have been a helpless, hopeless open book, but Remus was pretty good at reading him all the same. “Both can be true, can’t they?”

“But are they ?”

“Of course they are, Padfoot.” Remus shrugged, a smile creeping across his face despite any and all attempts to appear nonchalant. “Of course they are.”

The embers of his temper were doused immediately, and the only word Remus could think of to describe Sirius in that moment was melted. Everything from the intensity in his eyes, to the tension in his shoulders, to the clenched fists at his side seemed to evaporate, leaving a soft, happy expression in their wake. 

“Moony.”

“Padfoot?”

Remus wasn't prepared for how heavy Sirius would be in his arms; like he was collapsing into him rather than embracing him. Remus stumbled back, groaning in pain when his bad knee caught the brunt of their shared weight.

Sirius either didn't care or didn't notice, and Remus didn't have time to scold him before he was being kissed, and as soon as their lips met for the second time that evening, he didn't care to. 

There were a lot of things about kissing Sirius Black that felt different. His cheekbones felt sharper when Remus reached up to cup his face with one of his hands. In their younger years, Sirius had always preferred a clean-shaven face. Now, there was friction where his beard touched Remus’ skin. There was a sense of clumsiness, that likely came along with both of them going more than a decade without any practice at this.

But everything else was the same. The way Sirius took control easily, with one hand on the back of his neck to keep Remus at his level; just enough craning to be uncomfortable. His lips moved the same way they used to, his tongue toyed with his own in a familiar game. Even the noise he made when Remus started kissing him back more forcefully was the same.

When Remus began to pull back, Sirius practically growled at him. "Don't you dare stop."

"I'm not-"

"I've waited so long for this. Twelve years in Azkaban, one year on the run, one month of you walking around this damnable house looking like that and expecting me to keep my hands to myself."

"I said I'm not- Wait, looking like what, exactly?"

"Don't act like you don't know!" 

"I'm afraid I really don't-"

“Like… like that! ” Sirius supplied unhelpfully. “I knew you’d be different, if I ever saw you again. You wouldn’t be the same Moony I’ve been carrying around in my head all this time. All of the important stuff is the same, you’re still gentle and playful and perfect. But Merlin, you got so fucking handsome while I was away- You can’t stop, Remus, I’m so tired of waiting- ”

Deciding that they had both had enough, Remus leaned forward and connected their lips again. "Sirius. I don't want to stop. I've been trying to tell you that I think we should take this somewhere more comfortable. And private."

Sirius' eyes sparkled. "What did you have in mind?"

"My bedroom is the closest."

When Sirius took a step backwards, Remus felt as though he was plummeting ahead at full speed, ready to collapse without Sirius right in front of him to keep him from falling over under his own weight. The feeling vanished quickly; Sirius had him by the hands, and didn’t break eye contact as he guided them down the hallway, never tripping, or turning to see where he was going. Graceful and confident as always, despite everything.

And, despite everything or because of it, Remus would have followed him anywhere, even if he stumbled. 

Chapter Text

Remus woke up the next morning with an overwhelming feeling of contentment; well-rested, comfortable, and warm in a way that he had all but forgotten was possible. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew that Sirius was still in bed with him. He could feel their legs tangled together, Sirius’ trim waist underneath his arm, and when he leaned forward, soft hair tickled his nose. 

Remus shifted, just enough so that he could get a good look at Sirius, when he opened his eyes. There was none of the anxiety he’d felt a month ago, when they’d woken up in each other’s arms that first morning in Grimmauld Place. The affection was mutual, wanted , and filled his heart so much that Remus felt like he could burst open at any moment. It had been so long since they’d been together, and even longer since they had been good together. 

Remus spent years under the impression that he’d mended his own broken heart. Now, he realized that wasn’t the case at all; he’d merely learned to live with it. 

Surprisingly, Sirius was already awake. His eyes were half-open, cold and stormy and beautiful behind long dark lashes. 

“G’morning, Moony.”

"Good morning, Padfoot."

Sirius shifted, tucking his head under Remus’ chin, and clinging to him as if he wanted every last bit of skin-on-skin contact he could possibly have. “I hope you weren’t thinking about leaving.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You’d be a great fool to think I’d let you go anywhere .”

Remus smirked against Sirius’ hair. “I was that good?”

“The best , Moony!” Sirius groaned against his neck. “Always the best, and always mine .”

Remus’ breath hitched, when he felt Sirius sink his teeth into his neck. Gentle, not enough to leave a lasting mark, but there were certainly plenty left over from the night before. 

“You’ll be moving into my room immediately,” Sirius’ voice was practically dripping with possessiveness, and it made Remus shiver. “No more lonely nights, no more wondering what if . Just you, in bed with me, every night, forever.”

Remus didn’t get the chance to ask for clarification - Lonely nights? You too? Forever ? - before there was a knock at the door, and he sat up so quickly that Sirius nearly tumbled out of the bed.

“Prof- Um, Remus?” came Harry’s voice from the other side of the door. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” Remus answered, immediately regretting it. Why didn’t he just pretend that he wasn’t in? Harry would leave, and he and Sirius could get right back to their morning necking. “What is it?”

“Breakfast is ready,” he said. “Do you know where Sirius is? He’s usually up first, but I haven’t seen him all morning. He’s not in his room, either.”

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but Remus rushed to beat him to it. “I’m not sure, but I’ll have a look around for him, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

“See you soon.”

Remus clasped his hand over his chest, relaxing back against the headboard. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to explain the latest development in their relationship to Harry, or how the young man would handle the news. It was a relief to have at least a few more minutes to figure out what to do. 

Sirius, on the other hand, looked positively peeved. "What was that about?"

"What was what about?"

" I don't know where he is, " Sirius repeated in a mocking tone. 

"What did you want me to say? He's right here, but don’t come in, we're naked , because we're sleeping together?"

Sirius shrugged, "That’s a little blunt, but sure, why not? It’s the truth."

"Don't you think we should be a little more delicate when we break the news?"

"What news is there to break?" Sirius slid out of bed, and began dressing himself in last night’s clothes, which were still in the wrinkled piles on the floor where he’d left them. "If he's half as bright as his parents, Harry already knows something is going on between us. We haven't exactly been subtle."

That was news to Remus, who was under the impression that he was doing a fairly good job of keeping his cards close to his chest. "We haven't?"

"We've been making eyes at each other since the Shrieking Shack!" Sirius paused, pulling Remus’ jumper over his head. Deliberate theft - there was no way he mistook that for his own. 

Remus felt that soft, warm feeling coming to life in his chest again. “We have, have we?”

“Well, I have. Suppose I shouldn’t just assume that Mister I-never-bothered-to-fuck-anyone-else-because-I’m-so-madly-in-love-with-you felt the same way about it.”

“Don’t be like that. You know I was. Making eyes, I mean.” 

“Damn right you were.” Somehow, the signature Sirius-pout didn’t look out of place on his 36 year old face. 

That pout was bait, and Remus easily recognized it, but it was compelling all the same. Compelling enough to entice him out of his warm, comfortable bed, and into Sirius’ arms. The smaller man once again tucked his head forcefully under his chin, and Remus smiled as he pressed his face into Sirius’ messy hair. 

Holding him like this was so familiar. Remus wasn’t used to the idea of home as a physical space. Other than Hogwarts, he never managed to stay put for very long. The house his parents lived in wasn’t one he was particularly attached to; they moved around too much for him to have a place he considered his childhood home. But, if Remus did have an old home to come back to, he imagined it would feel something like this.

Homesick , he realized, tightening his hold on Sirius. That’s what he’s been feeling all of these years. That horrible, gut-wrenching loneliness, the sleepless nights and sleepy days, the fact that he could never quite get comfortable, no matter what he did. The nagging feeling that he would never belong in the world, the way he had belonged with Sirius, and Lily and James, Marlene and Mary and even Peter. He was homesick. 

Remus closed his eyes tight, mulling over that realization as his hands made their way up and down Sirius’ back. Things could never go back to the way they were, but what they had now was already so much more than he ever thought he would have again. For the first time in a long, long time, Remus was overwhelmed with the feeling that everything might just be okay for once.

“Well, we are going to have to tell him,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “As much as you like to poke fun at my self-control, I don’t have enough of it to pretend like we’re not together.”

Sirius hummed a content, happy hum that Remus felt against his collarbone. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well, for what it’s worth…” The next breath that Remus felt against his skin was a heavy, frustrated one. “The feeling is mutual. I’ve wasted too much of my time - I was wasting my time with you before Azkaban. Well, I’m done with that! No more hiding, no more fear. I’m done with all of it, Moony. I’m too tired, if nothing else. I just want to be with you, and if you’re stupid enough to take me back, I’m taking full advantage.”

“I don’t think it was a waste,” Remus let one of his hands slide up, so he could gently scratch at the back of Sirius’ neck, right up against his hairline. He used to enjoy that. 

Apparently, he still did. The noise that he made as he tightened his hold on Remus was unmistakably needy. “You don’t?”

Remus shook his head, “It wasn’t perfect , but it got us here, didn’t it? In a round-about sort of way?”

“That’s an oddly optimistic thought, coming from you,” he said skeptically. “What, no more I’m a monster, you’re wasting yourself on me ? Or did Azkaban make me wretched enough that you feel like you deserve me?”

Remus hugged him even tighter. To his recollection, it was the first time Sirius had spoken about himself in a self-deprecating way since they had reunited. That single comment gave away so much more than every boast, every brag, every display of confidence that Sirius had put on. 

It was thoughtless on Remus’ part, to not realize sooner. As confident as he was, Sirius was equally vain. Remus wouldn’t dare insinuate that Sirius was anything but handsome - in no small part because he was as handsome as he used to be, just in a different way. But, just like his new wand, and Remus’ new records, the difference wasn’t bad. 

“Well?” Sirius prompted impatiently. 

“Padfoot, you know I could never think of you like that.” Remus kissed the side of Sirius’ head, where his hairline met his forehead. “It’s just… well, after all of this time, you’re not the only one who's grown tired. If you’re stupid enough to waste yourself on me , I don't have it in me to argue."

“Well…” Sirius’ breath hitched, and in the otherwise silent room, the following gulp was clearly audible, “That settles that, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm,” Remus nodded, stepping back, his hands still planted firmly on Sirius’ hips. “We still need to tell Harry, though.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “If you insist. But I’m telling you , Moony, he knows. Might as well have a chat with him about how the sky is still blue.”

It was entirely possible. Harry was very much like his parents, and Sirius was right; James and Lily would have caught on quickly, maybe even before Remus and Sirius were on the same page themselves. But Harry wasn’t James and Lily. He was his own person, a child, and as much as he resembled his father, he didn’t have years of constant contact with Sirius to learn how to read the mysterious man like a book. 

Possible , but Remus had his doubts.

Harry had breakfast ready, by the time they reach the kitchen; a stack of pancakes, piled so high that Remus wasn’t sure how it hadn’t toppled over under its own weight.

“I… Might have mixed up too much batter,” Harry admitted.

“Looks like the perfect amount to me.” Sirius already had a plate in hand, ready to grab his pancakes barehanded. 

Remus cleared his throat, “Actually, before we get into that, there’s something we need to-”

“Oh, come on!” Sirius groaned. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m starving!”

Remus looked Sirius up and down. Maybe, if he hadn’t stolen his jumper, Remus would have more sympathy. But, as things stood… “Yes, I think it’s best that we take care of this now.”

“Take care of what?” Harry asked, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s brilliant,” Sirius grumbled. “But you know Moony, he’s always got to talk about everything!”

Remus shot Sirius a dirty look. “Some things need to be talked about.”

“So,” Harry looked back and forth between the two adults in front of him, “Let’s talk about it?”

“Sirius and I…” Remus hoped that Sirius would jump in, but the other man remained silent, eyes on him as if he, too, were waiting for the big news. He sighed, stepped closer, and slinked his arm around Sirius’ waist, in hopes that the gesture would help get the point across. “We’re together.”

“Together…” Harry repeated, his blank expression melting into shock, as his mind unraveled the true meaning of the word. “ Together, as in…?”

Remus nodded, trying his best to mask any smugness he felt. That should be reserved for Sirius; Harry was only reacting the way Remus expected him to. “Romantically together, yes.”

“And this is…” Harry’s eyes continued to dart back and forth between them, his complexion growing pale. “Um. New?”

“Yes,” Remus replied.

“No,” Sirius said, just a beat behind. He blinked, and then stepped back, glaring up at Remus. “What?”

“Well, it’s not new -new…”So much for feeling smug. Maybe they should have waited until after breakfast to have this conversation after all. “We were an item, when we were in school, and for a while afterwards. We separated during the war, but we’ve since… Reconciled .” 

Sirius laughed - at the PG-rating of that description, if Remus had to guess. “Took us long enough.”

“You could have said something sooner, if that’s how you felt,” Remus pointed out

Sirius huffed, closing the distance between them once again, despite the feigned annoyance. “ You could have said something.”

“I did, remember? Last night?”

“So this is new,” Harry said, not bothering to mask his relief. 

“Yes,” Remus said, quickly, before Harry could spend more than a few seconds thinking about the alternative: that his new guardians were keeping secrets from him. “I promise, we weren’t hiding it from you. That was never our intention.”

“It’s… not going to be a problem, is it?” Nervous wasn’t an emotion Remus was used to seeing displayed on Sirius’ face, which meant that when it did show, it was unmistakable, and also suggested that the man was deeply and truly anxious. 

“No!” Harry shook his head frantically. “No, not at all! It’s just- I guess I didn’t see it coming? That’s all.”

“Well… Good.” Sirius spun his plate in his hands, at ease and ready for breakfast. “Let’s dig in then, shall we? These look delicious, Harry, thank you.”

“Y-yeah. Anytime.”

I didn’t see it coming - Remus wasn’t sure why that, of all things, caused him to suddenly remember the other incredibly important detail from the night before. “Wait, there’s one more thing-”

“Oh, Merlin’s balls, Moony! We’re wasting away here-”

“But it’s important!” Remus insisted. “It’s about the locket.”

Sirius fumbled, nearly dropping the plate. “The locket?”

“What about the locket?” Harry asked, the impatience in his tone suggesting that, maybe, this should have been the conversation they prioritized. 

“Well, here’s the thing…” They weren’t going to like it. Sirius especially. But any information, even from a terrible source, was more than they had before. “When I got home last night, I had a little chat with the portrait in the entryway-”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “You can’t trust a word that nasty old bitch says, you know that-”

“Yes, I know, but please, hear me out.” Remus cleared his throat, knowing full well that he would have to make a convincing pitch, if he wanted either of them to help him scour the library. “She said that, before he died, Regulus  was doing research about how to destroy the locket. He was apparently able to find something about it, in the library located in the east wing.”

Harry looked as if he had his doubts, but much to Remus’ surprise, Sirius nodded. “That checks out,” he admitted. “My mother kept all of her old books in there. Lots of old, dark magic. Some of those books make the restricted section at Hogwarts look tame by comparison.”

Given what Remus knew about the Blacks, that wasn’t surprising to hear. “She couldn’t remember the title, but she did give me a description. Maybe, if we can find out what Regulus knew about the locket… I don’t know. Kreacher said that it couldn’t be destroyed, but at least that would put us one step ahead of where we are now.”

“And if she’s lying?” Harry asked. 

“Then…” Sirius trailed off, finally giving into his hunger. He reached for a pancake, and took a bite out of it as if it were a candy bar. “We’ll be the fools who wasted an entire summer reading .” 

Chapter Text

From day one, talking to his students had been easy. In a lot of ways, Remus didn’t feel all that much older than they were. Arrested development , some called it. He’d spent most of his life after the war struggling to survive; without a steady income or stable housing, it was hard to feel like a real adult even into his 30s. To make matters worse, it wasn’t as if he’d spent much time interacting with young people. When he first began teaching, he worried that he would have a difficult time with it. Remus quickly realized that it was easier for him to empathize with teenagers than he ever would have guessed, that offering them a listening ear and a cup of tea was often all they really wanted. 

Now, with Hermione fidgeting next to him in the front seat, and Ron stretched out across the backseat, looking away every time they awkwardly made eye contact in the rearview mirror, Remus couldn’t help wondering if he was ever any good at it in the first place. 

The fact that I nearly killed them has something to do with it, Remus reminded himself, turning up the volume on the radio to kill the silence before it killed him.

Harry’s birthday was something Remus always observed, even when he had no contact with his best friends’ son. Every year July 31st would come around, and Remus would find himself thinking about Harry, and the one birthday party he had attended. It had been short and simple, in part because Lily’s mother had passed away only a month before, and she was still grieving the heavy loss. The explosive argument he’d had with Sirius in the kitchen didn’t do much to improve the mood. 

Still, Harry blew out his candle, smashed his cake, and opened his presents - all with help from his loving parents, of course. Loving parents that would be taken from him exactly three months later.

And now, here Remus was: birthday number fourteen, collecting Harry’s friends for another party, driving a rental car that was by far the nicest thing he’d ever driven. It had seemed like the logical decision at the time; Sirius could barely drive an automobile when he did have a valid license, and by his own admission, he’d already broken one of their limbs. No, despite any lingering awkwardness, it was better that Remus drive the car, while Sirius and Harry took care of the cake and decorations.

Cake… hopefully it was chocolate.

“I like this song.”

“Hmm?” Remus glanced from the red light in front of him to Hermione. 

“I said ,” Hermione paused, as if she didn’t notice the harshness in her tone, and offered a little smile, “I like this song.”

His eyes flickered towards the radio, as if he needed to see the machine to recognize Dream a Little Dream of Me . “Do you?”

She nodded. “My mom’s been a fan since she was young. She still plays their records all of the time.”

“This,” Remus said, tapping the radio, “Was one of the first records my mother ever bought for me.”

“The light’s green,” Ron announced from the backseat.

“Right, sorry-” Remus stepped on the gas, though he had no interest in dropping the subject. Not when they finally had something to talk about that had nothing to do with that night. “What kind of music do you listen to, then?”

“Oh- mostly the stuff my parents listen to,” Hermione said, with all the grace of someone who didn’t quite know how to answer the question. “Dad’s got all of David Bowie’s albums. He’s worn down some of his cassettes so much that they don’t even play properly anymore.”

“A man after my own heart,” Remus grinned. “What about you, Ron? Do you listen to music?”

“... Sometimes?” Ron answered. “My dad loves playing around with radios. If he can get one working, he’ll have us listening to it for weeks, until he manages to get curious and take it apart again.”

“That sounds like Arthur,” Remus said, with a nostalgic little laugh. “It’s nice to know he hasn’t changed.”

“You know my dad?” It sounded more like an accusation, than a question.

“Oh, yes-” It had never dawned on Remus, that Molly and Arthur wouldn’t mention their past together, when all of their children came home and told their parents about their new teacher. Then again, Remus could understand, wanting to keep war stories away from the dinner table. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant time for the Weasleys, and Remus had kept the Order at arm’s length after the war. “Yes. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him, but it’s good to know that he’s doing well.”

Remus had never been more thankful to see Grimmauld place, than he was when he pulled the rental car up to the sidewalk in front of the hidden mansion. Ron and Hermione heaved their overnight bags out of the trunk, while Remus summoned the house into existence from the sidewalk. 

“Now, you do have to be careful, wandering about this place,” Remus warned them, as they all slipped off their shoes. “Sirius did manage to disarm some of the more nasty traps, but one wrong step, and you might lose a limb.”

“Lose a limb?” Ron repeated, his face losing some of its color. “What were the nasty traps?”

Remus was thankful that Sirius and Harry came to greet them, just in time for him to not have to answer Ron’s question. Harry ran down the hallway, embracing Ron with enough force that he almost knocked the taller boy over. He moved onto Hermione next, with much less vigor but all of the emotion, before taking them each by the hand, and offering a full tour before dinner.

“You’ve got a proper room, right? No bars on the windows?” Remus could hear Ron asking as they made their way up the stairs. He decided to push down the uneasy feeling that came bubbling to the surface. It was Harry’s birthday. They were all meant to be having fun.

When he turned to Sirius to ask how the shopping went, it became very apparent very quickly that he was not having fun. He looked… not quite angry, but not quite afraid, either, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he sounded frantic. “Well? How did it go?”

“How did it-?” Remus parroted back, not sure what Sirius was suddenly so concerned about. “Picking up Ron and Hermione at the train station, you mean?”

“What else could I possibly mean?!”

“It was fine?” Remus replied, more confused than ever. “A little awkward, but that’s to be expected. I think I need more practice behind the wheel, if we're going to keep the car.”

“They didn’t give you a hard time, did they?"

“No,” said Remus, “Though, I would understand if they did; the last time they saw me wasn’t exactly pleasant-”

“No, no! That’s not the point!” 

“Then what is the point?” Remus could feel his patience growing thinner, though not nearly to the point of exasperation Sirius had reached, seemingly out of nowhere. “I don’t understand what’s got you so upset-”

“We don’t know anything about these kids!” Finally, there it was in plain language. Though, judging by the way Sirius rolled his eyes, it was perfectly obvious to him all along. “We don’t know what sort of influence they’ve had on him.”

“His friends, you mean?” Remus covered his mouth to help suppress his laughter, but a few chuckles managed to sneak out despite his best efforts. “Sirius, I was their teacher for an entire school year.”

“Right.” The fact had clearly slipped his mind, and Remus watched as he instantly became more relaxed as that recollection set in. “And you would have kept him from fraternizing with… I don’t know, junior Death Eaters. Right?”

“Well, it’s not like I had any control over who he spends his time with. I was his teacher, not his mother.”

“But… you do know them, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Very well, yes.”

“And they’re…?”

“They’re good kids.” It was his honest opinion, but he also knew it was what Sirius needed to hear before he would even begin to calm down. “ Harry is a good kid. And I think he’s chosen his friends well. I know we didn’t exactly get to have a nice chat that night in the Shrieking Shack, but you saw how they stood by him. They were ready to die defending him.”

“Right.” Sirius’ tone suggested that he had forgotten about that , as well. “Of course I remember.”

“And I think those are the sorts of friends we’re all going to need, in the days to come.”

Another uneasy expression washed over Sirius’ face, and he shook his head, as if he could banish his dark thoughts the way a dog shakes off water after a bath. “I don’t like thinking about it. He’s just a boy, Remus.”

“I don’t like thinking about it either,” Remus admitted. “But it is a comfort, isn’t it? To know that when you can’t follow him to Hogwarts this September, that Harry is in capable hands?”

“I suppose…” Sirius did not look comforted, though. Instead, he tapped his chin, smirking and scheming. “Though, now that you mention it... I can’t go, but maybe Padfoot could tag along and-”

“No.”

Remus expected an argument, but instead, Sirius smirked up at him. “Oh, right. You’d miss me too much, wouldn’t you?”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Remus shook his head, and placed his hand on Sirius’ hip. Physical affection in front of Harry was still a gray area, one that became even murkier when his two best friends were added to the equation. But, when they were alone, it was as easy as breathing. “Yes, of course I would miss you.”

Sirius must have felt that way, as well. He draped his arm over Remus’ shoulder, without any hesitation or second guessing. “Can’t stand to be without me.”

“Yes, Padfoot.”

“Love me so much you’d die without me.”

“ Yes , Padfoot. I love you.”

“I sound like a madman, don’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus shrugged. “Maybe. But you’re not wrong - it’s hard to imagine being apart, after… everything .” It feels like the understatement of the century, but there’s also no point in delving into two decades’ worth of trauma in the middle of such a tender moment. “And I do appreciate the affection, even if it does come in the form of teasing.”

“I’ll make a note of that. But I was talking about before; about Harry’s friends.”

Oh, that. “You sound like a godfather who cares very deeply for his godson.”

“It’s just- I wasn’t there, you know?” Sirius rested his forehead against Remus’ shoulder, leaning into their embrace so much that Remus felt as if he were supporting more of his partner’s weight than he was. “We weren’t there, and I know it’s no use wallowing in it, that we should do what we can, now that we do have time with him. But- but that means I don’t know anything! I wasn’t there to help raise him, watch him grow up, make sure he was making the right choices, help him fix the wrong ones…”

Remus chewed at the inside of his cheek while he listened. It wasn’t exactly a shocking revelation; for as long as he’d known Sirius, the other man had liked to be in control. Knowing that something as important as raising his godson had been left to someone he barely knew, and that those strangers hadn’t exactly handled the task with care must have been difficult for Sirius to grapple with. 

“Harry is a good kid,” Remus repeated, tightening his hold on Sirius. “He has enough of his parents in him that I think being good comes easy for him. But he’s still just that, a kid , and now that you’re here, you can do all of those things.”

“ We can do all of those things,” said Sirius. “You’re here, too. And I don’t- You can never tell him this, Moony, but I don’t know if I’d be able to do it, without you.”

“I don’t think that’s true-”

“It is,” he said firmly. “I need you just as much as I did when we were kids. You’re the thing that keeps me grounded, Remus. You always have been.”

“It’s hard to imagine that,” said Remus. “ You, grounded.”

Sirius huffed. “Well, it’s the truth. I spent months chasing after Pettigrew on my own, but I could never get close enough to him, until you showed up.”

It’s not the first time that someone has indicated that Remus was the one who turned the tables that night, but Remus didn’t believe it despite the repetition. “I’m sure you would have managed, somehow.”

“Without you there to back me up? Ha! Harry would have done me in before the Dementors ever got the chance, if you hadn’t been there to talk him down and explain everything.”

Remus hugged Sirius even tighter; he could feel the beginnings of tears stinging the corners of his eyes. As much as he didn’t believe for one minute that he was the one who saved the day, that possibility was too horrid to think about. 

“Aw, Moony, don’t- It’s alright, don’t get all soppy on me.” Sirius ran his hands up and down his back, slow and forceful, sliding under his cardigan on their way back up. “It all worked out, didn’t it?”

Remus inhaled sharply, and nodded. “Yes, I suppose it did.”

“Come on, we’ve got a cake to finish decorating. The shop had these candles that are supposed to be impossible to blow out. That’ll be a fun little prank, don’t you think?”

Again, he nodded, and allowed Sirius to lead him by the hand into the kitchen. He did his best to push that awful hypothetical aside. Now that it had wormed its way into his brain, it was likely there to stay, along with all of the others: what if he had bitten someone that night? What if Peter had escaped? What if Harry never saw him on the map, and Remus had handed Sirius back over to the Dementors, never learning the truth? 

But none of those things actually happened. As much time as he was bound to waste thinking about them, as much as they would seep into his dreams over the years, they weren’t real. This was real. He had a home, he had Sirius, Harry was safe and Peter was locked up in Azkaban where he belonged.

And, perhaps best of all, a cake was waiting for him in the kitchen.

Chapter Text

After Harry’s birthday party, the residents of 12 Grimmauld Place jumped right into their new routine. Gone were the lazy days of waking up whenever they pleased, spending their time doing whatever they wished, reading whatever interested them and exploring the neighborhood when the weather cooperated. With their new goal driving them full speed ahead, they woke up early every morning, quickly dressed, washed, and ate breakfast, before heading straight to the library to begin their work. 

Unfortunately, there was a lot of it. Black with gold lettering , as it turned out, was a descriptor that applied to at least a quarter of the books in the massive collection. What Remus initially imagined would take a couple of days was likely to be a weeks or months long task. The first two days had been spent clearing out Doxies and other pests so they could scour those books in peace. The fact that those pests had over a decade to throw books around as if they were playthings wasn’t going to help them find the right book any faster.

Remus, for the most part, enjoyed himself. He was learning a lot; the dark arts were fascinating, even if he had no intention of dabbling in them himself. He did wonder if exposing Harry to this sort of magic, even if only in a theoretical way, was a good idea, but the fact that he was visibly bored after the first week of searching put his mind at ease. Judging by the number of yawns Remus heard coming from Harry’s designated armchair, most of what he was reading was immediately forgotten.

Sirius, however… Sirius’ impatience with the whole ordeal was much more dramatic. It was rare that more than an hour went by without a disgusted noise from his corner of the library. Harry and Remus were often treated to aimless tirades about dark magic and the corruption of pureblood society. At first, Harry would watch him with a mixture of concern and intrigue, but it wasn’t long before these rants seemed to bore him just as much as the dusty old texts in front of him. He never said as much, though. He only listened, eyes listless, and nodded along to whatever Sirius had to say.

 “- not to mention how on the nose some of this filth is!” Sirius was babbling again, on that afternoon in early August. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and the sweat that soaked the neckline of Sirius’ shirt was evidence enough that the heat was aggravating his bad mood. “ Magick Moste Evile , really? Couldn’t come up with something more creative than that? Harry, if anyone ever tries to tell you that pure blood makes someone inherently superior, you just show them this, and ask them how much intelligence it takes to come up with a title like that.”

That, at least, got Harry to crack a smile. “Alright, I’ll do that.”

“Darling-” the pet name was out of his mouth before Remus thought better of it. When Sirius didn’t immediately object to it, he continued, as if the realization wasn’t turning his ears bright red. “If you need to take a break, you should take one. Go on, have a bath, listen to some records - all of the books will be here when you get back.”

“But the two of you are still working-”

“Harry spent at least an hour doodling in the Prophet this morning before we got started,” Remus said, and Harry shrank in his chair. Apparently, he didn’t realize he had been caught slacking off. “And yesterday I fell asleep at my desk.”

“I know, but-”

“Padfoot.”

“Moony!”

“Take a break,” Remus said, in the firm professor voice he had spent weeks practicing before taking up the job. “I promise, these books will be just as dry and dreadful when you’re ready to come back.”

“Fine.” Judging by the way Sirius slammed the door behind him on his way out, it was not fine, and Remus felt that familiar cocktail of guilt and anxiety bubbling up in his gut.

“Was I too hard on him?” he asked Harry. “Did I push too much?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I mean, yes, I guess you did, but… But he needed it. He’s wearing himself too thin.”

“I think so, too. It’s… hard for him, living in this house. Moving in all of our things and redecorating is helping, but-”

“But he’d be happier elsewhere,” Harry finished. “And we’re only here because of me.”

“Harry, please, don’t think of it like that,” Remus knew that was easier said than done; he had plenty of experience with circumstances outside of his own control causing problems for those around him. “This is the safest place for you; Sirius would endure much, much worse, if it meant protecting you. The added protection is probably good for him, too, now that I think about it.”

“Maybe… We could take tomorrow off?” Harry suggested. “Getting out of the house always puts him in a better mood.”

No , was the right answer. Voldemort was still at large. If Walburga Black’s portrait was telling the truth - or even half of it - they were so close to finding the secret to his undoing. Every day, every hour mattered. No matter how morose Sirius became, or how much Remus’ joints ached from sitting for days on end, or how bored Harry was with the whole affair, it needed to be done.

No was the right answer, and Remus knew it, but he nodded in agreement anyway. “Yes, I think we could all use a break.”

Two hours of comfortable, companionable silence had passed between them, when Sirius burst into the library. Remus wasn’t sure what state he expected him to be in when he returned, but wet, in his bathrobe, with a deep, bleeding cut on his cheek wasn’t it.

Remus pushed his book aside immediately. He rose to his feet, eager to inspect that new wound. “Padfoot, what-”

“I’ve done it!” he exclaimed, reaching up to grab Remus on the face, and kissing him hard on the mouth. “I’ve figured it out! I did it!”

“Figured what out?” asked Harry.

“The book! I figured out where to find it!”

“That’s brilliant,” Remus said, taking a moment to examine the cut. It didn’t look terribly deep, but the bleeding hadn’t quite stopped yet. “... how, exactly?”

“I tried to take a break, just like you said,” Sirius began, breaking away from Remus so he could pace back and forth in front of them while he told his story. “So there I was, soaking in the bath, letting the water grow cold while I dreaded coming back to this miserable room - and I remembered something.”

“What’s that?” Remus promoted, knowing that feeding into this dramatic display and asking the question Sirius obviously wanted someone to ask him was the only way to speed this along.

“This room is miserable! ” He all but laughed his words, and his eyes sparkled, as if that were truly a great discovery. “It’s always so damn warm in here. There are no windows, no air circulation, nothing! Regulus used to despise being in here. He’d always take the books he wanted back to his room, even when dad didn’t know he was nicking them.”

Remus felt his heart plummet. Had they really been wasting all of that time? “So if Regulus had the book-”

“It isn’t even in here!” Harry finished. 

“Exactly!” Sirius said triumphantly. It was then that he reached into his bathrobe, revealing a small book bound in black leather. “Almost lost my ear trying to get it - apparently my dearly departed brother was starting to take after our father and his love of booby traps - but it was in his room.”

Remus snatched the book from Sirius’ hand, catching the other man’s pout out of the corner of his eye before focusing all of his attention on the volume in his hands. It was small, not much bigger than a novella, and the leather binding was soft and cracked with age. The gold embossing on the cover must have been beautiful when the book was made, but now most of the design was flaked and faded, the title barely legible in thin, curly script:

Treatise on the Importance of Preserving Magical Blood by Ambrose Rosier.

“I know - like I said, that lot’s never been the most creative. Same hogwash, over and over again, ad nauseam.” Sirius shifted, so that he was standing next to Remus, right up against him, clutching his arm. “Reggie at least saved us some work, though - he dog-eared the right page. There, see? Have a look.”

So, Remus did. Knowing full well that he wouldn’t like what he was about to read, he flipped to the page Regulus Black had marked fifteen years prior. The script inside was so neat that it took Remus a few lines to realize that the book was hand written, not typed. 

An Extreme Solution

With the number of truly pure blooded witches and wizards dropping with each passing generation, soon breeding will no longer be enough. Therefore, in order to preserve our bloodlines, we must pursue the alternative: living longer, possibly forever. 

The Horcrux - Definition and Creation

An ancient magic rarely spoken of in polite society, though desperate times such as these call for desperate measures, and the importance of preserving magical blood far supersedes the need for propriety. First discovered by renowned dark wizard Herpo the Foul, the process of Horcrux creation is rarely spoken of in polite society, though I will share what I know here, for the purposes of maintaining the purity of our bloodlines.

When a wizard creates a Horcrux, a piece of their soul becomes attached to another object or living creature. As such, this wizard can never truly die; a piece of them will still be attached to the world, keeping them alive to some degree.

The creation of a Horcrux comes at the cost of taking another’s life. However, the caliber of that life does not seem to affect the process, or the quality of the Horcrux created. The murder must be willful, and a simple killing curse will not result in the successful creation of a Horcrux. No, the murder must be particularly grisly. There does not appear to be a specific method required, but using a non magical instrument is more likely to provide the willful intent and suffering needed to achieve the desired result. 

Committing this gruesome crime is, allegedly, against our nature as human beings. For a short window of time after the act occurs, a wizard’s soul is in a fragile enough state, torn apart by the crime committed, that a piece of that soul may be removed from the body, and transferred into another being or inanimate object. 

A Horcrux, while not as powerful as the wizard that created it, will take on powers of its own. The soul inside can manipulate those around it to do that wizard’s bidding (though, communication between the soul fragments cannot happen at will - the creator of the Horcrux cannot give the Horcrux orders or control it). 

On Their Destruction

A wizard’s soul, even in a fractured state, is a very powerful thing, and will not be easily destroyed. A Horcrux fashioned from a mortal creature will likely gain new strengths and talents as a result of the fusion, but will experience all of the pitfalls of mortality. Inanimate Horcruxes are far more durable, despite the fact that, by the very virtue of being inanimate, they cannot defend themselves. The soul fragment attached to the object will only be destroyed if the object is damaged beyond magical repair. 

With these weaknesses in mind, those planning to preserve their bloodline using this method should plan accordingly. If you are successful in creating such a thing, it must be protected at all costs to ensure your immortality. 

Remus skimmed the passage once, and then read it aloud; Harry was no doubt on the edge of his seat, wondering what the book had to say about the mysterious locket.

“Sounds like a real nutter,” said Sirius, “but my brother must have believed in at least some of it. I don’t think he would have had this tucked away, if it wasn’t important.”

“Yes, I agree. This…” Remus closed the book, checking the cover for the author’s name, “Rosier was out of his mind-”

“Centuries of inbreeding and being told you’re inherently better than everyone else will do that to you,” said Sirius.

“- But even if the rest of this book is madness, Regulus died to get that locket. He must have thought that it was one of these. A Horcrux.” 

“But that’s not much to go on, is it?” Harry removed his glasses, rubbing at his tired eyes. “We just know what it’s called. Rosier doesn’t even say how to destroy it, just that it can be.”

“You’re right Harry, it isn’t much,” Remus admitted, and the rush he’d felt when he first got his hands on the book faded the second he admitted it. “But it’s more than we had this morning.”

“So now what?” Harry asked, in a burst of impatience that was so much like James. He probably would have lost his mind by now, spending countless hours in a library researching, instead of trying to destroy the locket himself using whatever method crossed his mind. 

“I’ll read the rest of this, for starters.” Remus looked down at the book in his hand, already feeling a heavy sense of dread pressing down on his shoulders. “Just to make sure we don’t overlook anything else. Other than that…”

When he looked back up, Harry and Sirius were both looking at him. They expected a plan, an answer, something useful. He had nothing for them, knew nothing they didn’t know, had no idea what to do with the limited information they did have, or how much of that information was real, and how much of it was a madman rambling about blood supremacy.

“We’ll have to start looking into how to damage a soul beyond magical repair, I suppose.”

Sirius sighed, bringing his hand up to his cheek, as if he had forgotten about his cut completely. “At least experimenting with blowing up old trinkets sounds a lot more fun than sitting around here all day.”

Chapter Text

Having Sirius around for the full moon had been a vast improvement over spending it alone in his office. Even with the Wolfsbane Potion to ease the burden of monthly transformation, it was still an isolating experience. With Padfoot, even though he didn’t need the company to keep himself and others safe, the night was far more enjoyable.

Having Sirius around for the full moon as his lover , who would dote on him afterwards, almost made everything worth it. 

“Just like the good old days,” Sirius commented as he pushed Remus’ hair out of his face for the third time. It was probably about time to cut it again, but that could wait until Sirius was done showering him with attention.

“We’re not old enough to be talking about the good old days,” Remus grumbled, not bothering to dignify that by opening his eyes. 

Sirius hummed, perfectly content to ignore that fact. “Remember, Moony? As soon as you were discharged, I’d cut class so I could be with you. We'd spend the whole day together, just us.”

“You were just looking for an excuse to skip.”

“Not true! It was also an excuse to get off.”

“Oh, my mistake.” Remus shifted under the blanket, so he was laying on his side, still tucked up next to Sirius. Thank goodness he was sitting up, with his back against the headboard. Otherwise, if Remus wanted to be the little spoon, he would need to contend with his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. You were terribly romantic, how could I forget?”

Sirius draped his arm over him again, once Remus was settled. “Don’t talk as if you weren’t just as happy about the arrangement as I was.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“Especially when you could have had just about any bird you wanted-”

Remus snorted, “I think you’re misremembering that bit, Padfoot. You were the lady’s man, not me.”

“I was a good time and an easy lay. You were the one everyone fantasized about settling down with when school was over.” 

That was news to Remus. “No, I wasn’t-”

“You were! ” Sirius pinched his arm his arm softly. “Do you have any idea how many dirty looks I used to get, when everyone figured out I’d taken you off the market? How many nasty letters?”

Remus shook his head.

“... Well, it was a lot,” said Sirius. “A couple of howlers, too.”

Remus decided not to mention the fact that some of that negative attention might have been due to the fact that they were both boys, and had nothing to do with either of them personally. “I guess I never noticed.”

“Of course you didn’t notice!” Sirius pinched him again, more roughly this time. “You never noticed when someone was interested in you. You were so convinced that no one could ever really love you that you never entertained the possibility! Not that you’ve changed much, in that regard.”

“Have you considered,” Remus said, securing his arm around Sirius’ waist, so he could pull himself in closer, “That I simply didn’t have eyes for anyone but you, right from the start?”

Sirius hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’ head. “Disgustingly soppy.”

“Don’t talk as if you’re not just as happy with the arraignment as I am.”

“I never claimed to be unhappy. Not with this, anyway. Not with you.”

“No whose being soppy- ”

“Shut up, Moony.”

That suited him just fine. Even the more pleasant werewolf transformations put strain on his body; he felt exhausted for days, sometimes even a full week afterwards. The day after a full moon was just about the only time that Remus could fall asleep as easily as he could close his eyes.

“Moony? Are you awake?”

Remus cracked one eye open. He should have known better. Sirius was far too restless for a midday nap. “What is it?”

“Well, if you’re asleep I don’t-”

“What is it, Padfoot?”

“It’s just… Since we’ve been laying here, I’ve started thinking-”

“It’s difficult at first, but you’ll get used to it, darling.”

Sirius rewarded him with the roughest pinch yet. “Ha, you’re so clever. I’ve been thinking about… remembering, I guess.”

Remus opened his other eye. “Remembering…? Remembering what?”

“Just- anything, I suppose,” Sirius used his free hand to push his own hair out of his face. “I spent so long deliberately not remembering just to keep myself sane. Now that I’m here, with you, and it can’t be used against me, it’s been happening a lot.”

“What’s been happening?” Remus asked. “Remembering things you’ve forgotten, you mean?”

“It’s more like I just haven’t thought about them,” Sirius explained, “Like when you reread a book after you haven’t touched it for years. It’s all familiar, and you know it by heart, there are no more surprises. But still, there are those chapters that you just don’t think about, until you read the book again. Does that make sense?”

Remus nodded, “Yes, it does.”

For a brief second Sirius looked relieved, but that passed quickly. His eyes clouded over, as he continued talking. “For the most part, I’m glad that I still have all of these memories. They’re all I’ve got left of Prongs; for a while there, they were all I had left of you, as well. I wouldn’t trade them for the world! But then I’ll remember Wormtail, something he did or said; it’s like he’s gone back in time to spoil everything that was good. I can hardly stand it!”

 Again, he nodded, more solemnly this time. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“That used to be how you thought of me, right?” 

Remus sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. He didn’t need to give an explicit, affirmative answer; Sirius had to know that was the truth. “For years after… after everything , I tried to figure out what happened. I’d stay up for days at a time, sifting through every memory I could come up with, trying to figure out when you betrayed us, if any part of our friendship, or our relationship, had ever been real in the first place. I could never figure it out, which- well, that makes sense now, but at the time…”

“How did you cope?” Sirius asked, not bothering to hide his desperation. “How did you live with it - know that the man who betrayed you and got all of your friends killed was also there for every happy moment you’ve ever had in your life?” 

“I did what you’ve been doing. Deliberately not remembering.” 

Sirius made a disgruntled sound, “Two peas in a pod, aren’t we?” 

“I’m sorry, I know that’s not helpful-”

“No, it’s fine,” said Sirius. “It’s… almost comforting, in a way. I feel less crazy, knowing that I’m not the only one who hasn’t figured out how to separate how things used to be from how they are now in my head.”

“I suppose… we don’t need to separate them,” Remus spoke slowly, in part because he was still incredibly tired, mostly because his thoughts on the subject were still forming as they had their conversation. “Peter was our best friend. He was there for me the same way you and James were. Peter is also the man who ruined all of our lives. Both of those things can be true at the same time. People are complicated creatures.”

“But I want them separated!” Sirius grumbled, slumping down so he too was laying on the mattress, his dark hair splayed out across his pillow in a curly, tangled mess. “I don't want that bastard spoiling all of the good things about the past. When I think about James, I don't want to think about how we loved Peter, too, and how he betrayed us anyway."

“Maybe separating them is the better way?” Remus wasn’t sure how healthy that was, but if it made coping with the past easier, it couldn’t be any worse than spending more than a decade being emotionally preyed on by Dementors. Right? "Wormtail, the funny boy we grew up with, and Peter Pettigrew the traitor. They do feel like two separate people, in a lot of ways,"

A moment of silence passed before Sirius spoke again. “I don’t like the idea of him living in my head at all, really. There’s only so much space in there. I’d rather give it to you, and James, and Harry. I wish I could remove him from our time together completely. I know it’s impossible, but… but that was the first time I’d ever been happy, Moony! I don’t want to not remember it, but I get so angry whenever I think about him!”

“I know, Padfoot. I’m angry, too-”

“You don’t sound angry.”

“That’s because I’m tired. ”

“... Right,” Sirius mumbled. Had he forgotten what day it was? “Sorry. If you’re tired, you should sleep. We can talk about this later.”

“We should talk about this later,” Remus agreed. “That’s what got us into trouble in the first place all those years ago, isn’t it? Not talking?”

Sirius tucked the blanket up under his chin, and closed his eyes, as if he too were planning to sleep. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Padfoot?”

“Hmm?”

“It does get easier,” Remus said, pulling the blanket up over his own shoulder. “Coping, I mean. It’s not as if those memories ever go away, but… you sort of get numb to it.”

Sirius smirked. Somehow, with his eyes closed, he was able to find Remus’ hand with his own. He laced their fingers together, so tightly that it hurt. “I don’t believe you. You’ve never been numb to anything a day in your life, even when you wanted to be. You accept it, and learn to live with it, but you’re not numb. It’s not the same thing.”

Remus wasn’t sure if he believed that. There was a subtle difference between numbness and simply being used to something. It had been so long since the war ended, he wasn’t sure which category he fit into anymore. “You don’t know that. What if I’ve changed?”

Sirius shook his head. “You haven’t. Not in that way. It was one of my favorite things about you, you know. No matter what happened, or how badly you got hurt, you let yourself feel all of it. You’re a lot braver than I am, in that way.”

Was that brave? He’d certainly never thought of it that way. It wasn’t cowardice, exactly, but it did make going through life all the more difficult. 

“Hey, Moony? Did you fall asleep? Moony?”

This time, Remus didn’t open his eyes, or acknowledge that he heard him at all.

For the first time in their lives, Sirius only responded with a heavy sigh, and waited patiently for Remus to wake up from his nap. 

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you don’t don’t want to come along with us?”

It’s the fifth time someone’s asked that question since Remus started keeping track. To be fair, there were more people in Grimmauld Place that morning to ask questions than usual. Despite having taught most of them for a year, Remus didn’t fully grasp just how big the Weasley family was until they were all in the dining room. 

And, just like every other time the question had been asked of him, Remus shook his head. “I'm sure, Molly.”

“Get off his back, would you? The man doesn’t feel well!” Sirius draped a possessive arm over his shoulder, resting most of his weight against Remus. “The moon was just a few days ago.”

Remus leaned into the embrace; his body was still tender and recovering, but the easy, casual affection from Sirius brought him more than enough comfort and contentment to make it worth the discomfort that came along with it.

“So, you really…” one of the twins began, trailing off before using his hands to mime a mouth with massive teeth. “You know-”

Molly was quick to swat him on the back of the head before he could finish his question. “Fred! That’s an inappropriate subject for the breakfast table.”

“Or anywhere,” Ginny added, glaring at her brother from over her glass of orange juice. "That's personal!"

“No, it’s alright.” As far as invasive questions about lycanthropy went, Fred’s wasn’t particularly offensive. “And yes, Fred, it’s exactly like that.”

“And what about you, Black?” Arthur asked, dusting the crumbs off of his lips with the back of his hand. “You’re welcome to join us - plenty of room left.”

Sirius waved dismissively. “No, no; you don’t want me around, trust me. Up until a few months ago, I was the most wanted man in the country. I’d draw too much attention, and no one wants that. Me included. You go have your fun, we’ll be here when you get back.”

“Suit yourself,” Arthur shrugged. “Come along, then - I told Diggory that we’d be meeting him ten minutes ago.”

12 Grimmauld Place was vast, but even its hallways became congested when Arthur and Molly’s entire family needed to be in the same place at once. Slowly, the group made their way to the door, put on their shoes, and left for the park, where a Portkey waited for them. 

Harry was the last to leave. He paused in the doorway, looking back at Sirius and Remus with hesitation. “Are you sure you don’t want to-”

“Yes, Harry, I’m sure,” Sirius said, all of the bile and irritation gone from his voice when it was his beloved godson doing the asking. “You go, have your fun. 

Harry nodded, before embracing Sirius. It was such a far cry from where they’d been three months ago: Harry ready to kill Sirius on sight, Sirius so consumed with murderous intentions of his own that until Peter Pettigrew’s identity was revealed, Harry’s presence had been nothing but an afterthought. It was amazing how quickly they’d become a family.

He expected Harry to leave after that. Instead he reached for Remus next. It took him a few moments to realize it was happening, and it took a concerned look from Sirius for Remus to realize he should hug back. Harry’s hold on him tightened, when Remus finally wrapped his arms around him. He was smiling, when he pulled back, said one last goodbye, and left.

… Maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised. This wasn’t the first time a Black, a Potter, and a Lupin became a family. 

Sirius sidled up next to him, and Remus felt his hand resting against his lower back. It was quiet, but not the cold, empty way that Grimmauld Place used to feel quiet. It felt… not quite like home , exactly, but something close to it. Familiar, safe - about as safe as any place possibly could be, for the likes of them.

But the man standing next to him? He felt like home. He always had, and he probably always would.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Remus teased, even though part of him really did want to know the answer. After more than a decade in Azkaban and several months living in the childhood home he despised, he was surprised Sirius didn’t jump at the opportunity to do anything that got him out of the house for a few days.

“ Yes !” Sirius replied loudly, slowly, and deliberately, before pressing his face against Remus’ chest and taking a long, drawn out breath. “I meant what I said, about not wanting to deal with all of the attention. I suppose I’ll have to, eventually, but… I think I’d like to put that off a bit longer.”

Remus circled his arm around Sirius, letting his hand rest firmly on his hip. “You don’t think you’ll get bored, laying around at home with just me for several days?” To him, it sounded like the perfect way to waste time, but Sirius was always more restless.

“Bored? A weekend at home alone with my husband, no one else around to catch us in the act, and you think I’d get bored ? Hardly.”

Remus smirked at the innuendo, ready to slide his hand lower - until he realized exactly what Sirius said, and took a half-step back in surprise. “With your husband ?”

Sirius’ expression quickly shifted from curious and playful, to panicked and nervous. “Fuck. Did I say that out loud?”

Remus’ smirk grew, as his wild imagination latched onto the idea of Sirius using the word husband in his head so much that he didn’t even realize when it found its way into a real conversation. “You did.”

“Oh.” It was odd, to see Sirius, who had never cared for following rules and shrugged at any punishment their teachers had thrown at him, looking every bit like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes avoided Remus, and he rubbed nervously at his sleeve. “Are you sure?”

“Padfoot.”

“Moony.”

Remus laughed, and shook his head. “When do I get to meet him?”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed coldly, his cheeks flaring. “Never, if you’re going to be a git about it.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t particularly sorry, and the fact that he couldn’t stop grinning must have given that away. “Is that- I mean, do you want me to be? Your husband, I mean.”

Sirius crossed his arms, “Is it really that hard for you to believe?”

“Well… Yes.” It was Remus’ turn to feel like he’d been caught in the act, and he could feel his face warming up to match Sirius’. “Yes, it is.”

“Moony, after everything we’ve been through, do you really think I care that you’re a werewolf? It doesn’t bother me - it never has! I love you, I’ve always loved you, and never thought twice about it!”

"It’s not just about that,” Remus would be lying, if he said his lycanthrope and deep, lifelong self-hatred had nothing to do with his doubts, but they were far from the only reason that Sirius’ little slip had caught him by surprise. “It’s not as if you ever expressed any interest in marriage.”

“Yeah, well… things change.” 

For a moment, Remus thought he was going to leave it at that. It would have been a perfectly acceptable answer. Plenty of time had passed since the last time they’d had a conversation on the subject. Even under more typical circumstances, opinions evolve and change. 

But, after a few seconds past awkward silence, Sirius started up again. “It’s not that strange, is it? I know how I used to be, but I was… stupid. Young. Scared. You know what my parents’ marriage was like. It’s not like I had a lot of positive examples around growing up. What we had was good! Well, it was good there for a while. I didn’t want to ruin it!”

Remus made a quiet, affirmative hum. Yes, he remembered all of those arguments very well. He even agreed with some of them, even though he wasn’t as vehemently opposed to the idea of being coupled up in a more permanent way. From his perspective, it simply seemed too impossible - and why waste time arguing with his boyfriend about impossible things?

“But things are different now,” Sirius continued, stepping out of Remus’ arms so he could pace across the entryway. “ We’re different now!”

“Yes,” Remus agreed, “We are.”

“And I’m-” Sirius stopped in his tracks, as if he was distracting himself with his fervent pacing. His expression quickly shifted into something irritated as he pushed his hair out of his eyes, only for the strands to fall right back where they were. “I’m tired, Moony. I’m so tired, and I want to be with you, and I don’t care about my parents, or not feeling tied down, or what anyone else thinks or has to say about it.

“I’ve had a long time to mull over all of the things I should have done differently. I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that a lot of those things have to do with you. I know that doesn’t change what’s already happened, but I don’t want to repeat all of those cycles and mistakes again, and again, and again!”

“Sirius…” Remus sighed - a deep breath that made his ribs ache. “It’s not as if you were the only one who made those mistakes. I was so ready to believe that you were the traitor that I didn’t even think twice when Dumbledore told me that it was true. I knew you didn’t trust me, but I stopped trusting you, too.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, so flippantly that Remus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Believe me, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that , too. But you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t care! I don’t. It doesn’t matter. The truth came out, we learned our lesson the hard way, and I’m so tired !”

Remus wasn’t sure if he believed that. Sirius could say over and over again, that he didn’t blame Remus for what happened. It didn’t change the fact that if Remus had bothered to think twice, if he hadn’t been so quick to believe the worst in everyone around him, hadn't let himself be manipulated into thinking that someone who loved as deeply as Sirius did would betray the small handful of people he poured all of that love into… 

Things would have been different. The right man would have ended up in Azkaban in the first place. Or at the very least, the wrong one wouldn’t have spent twelve years rotting in there.

“So…” Remus tapped his fingers against the handle of his cane. He knew Sirius well enough that he was pretty sure he knew how all of these ideas were connected in his head. “Your solution to… all of that , is that we should get married?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, “Something like that.”

Remus couldn’t help grinning, “Getting married to solve all of our problems? Sounds like a great idea. No one’s ever tried that before-” 

“I don’t want to marry you because I think it’ll fix anything. I want to get married because I want to be married to you. I trust you, Remus, I love you , and I don’t want there to be any room for either of us to doubt again.”

The holes in that logic were wide enough for an elephant to fall through, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to point them out. Not when Sirius was standing in front of him, insisting that he wanted the commitment that Remus would have done just about anything for fifteen years prior. “You know we can’t actually get married, right? Legally.”

“A minor detail,” said Sirius, his voice warmer, and less frenzied. “What are they going to do, put me back in Azkaban? Like I said, I don’t care anymore - if we want to be married, we should be married.”

“Is it really that easy?”

“There you go again. Why can’t it be easy? Why does everything have to be a struggle?” Sirius closed the space between them, grabbing both of his hands. His cane clattered to the floor unceremoniously. “Remus, please , let yourself be happy. Just this once. Unless, of course, you don’t want…?”

“I do.” It was a little embarrassing; Sirius might as well have said jump, so Remus could ask him how high . “I want to.”

Sirius grinned, triumphant and unabashedly happy, as he held their hands over his heart. “I thought you might.”

“So… What now? Will you wear white to the wedding, or is that inappropriate at this point?”

Sirius’ expression immediately soured. He made a retching noise, horrible and deep in the back of his throat. Remus couldn’t help noticing that he clutched his hands even tighter. “I think I’d rather go back to Azkaban than have to suffer through a wedding .”

“Really?” Remus was genuinely a bit surprised to hear that. Of the two of them, Sirius was the one who craved attention the most, good or bad. A wedding, legal or not, was guaranteed to drum up plenty of it.

“I don’t want…” Sirius bit down on his lower lip and closed his eyes, as if he hadn’t quite sorted out exactly what it was he did or didn’t want. “I don’t need a big to-do. I just want to be your husband. Isn’t that enough? Can’t we just be husbands?”

Remus smiled softly, and guided their hands upwards so he could kiss the back of Sirius’ knuckles. “Yes, that’s more than enough, that’s- I’d like exactly that.”

“We could get a cake, though. You’d want a cake. Chocolate, with so much frosting it’d make any sane man ill just to smell the damn thing.”

His smile grew. “Well, if you insist…”

“I do. I insist on doing anything you want, anything that’d make you happy, Moony.”

“This,” Remus let go of one hand, so that he could place his on Sirius’ waist, and guide him in even closer, “Makes me happy. You have no idea.”

“Oh, I do.” Sirius let his head roll lazily onto the broad shoulder in front of him. “I bet you used to write Mister-Remus-Black in the margins on all of your notes when we were in school, didn’t you?”

“I did not.” Still, Remus felt his ears growing warm. Sirius wasn’t too far from the truth, and the notes he did write weren’t any less embarrassing.

Remus felt a content sigh against his neck. “Even if I did believe that - I don’t, by the way - that suits me just fine. I want to be Sirius Lupin.”

It shouldn’t have been a shock to hear it. Sirius had never expressed anything but contempt for his lineage. Of course he would leap at an opportunity to distance himself from it. 

But it was a shock. A happy one, that rocked Remus to his core. Sirius must have noticed, because suddenly he had both arms around him, holding him firm and close and tight, as if he were worried that Remus might collapse.

“Aw, Moony - there there, it’s alright.”

It wasn’t until his own breath hitched that Remus realized he was crying. “I’m sorry-”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m ruining the moment-”

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you tried.”

“But-”

“Moony.”

Remus blinked hard, forcing out the tears that were stuck in the corners of his eyes. “Padfoot?”

Sirius reached up to cup his face in his hands. His thin fingers felt cool against his flushed cheeks. “So… married?”

Remus nodded, “Sure.”

“I’ll get a ring for you,” he continued, his voice full of promise. “A matching set, for the both of us. Something new, no crusty, cursed family heirloom. Rings made just for us, no baggage.”

Remus couldn’t help laughing. “I think, between the two of us, there’s plenty of baggage.”

“You know what I mean. No one else’s centuries-old, bigoted, horrible baggage. Our own is fine. That’s our business.”

Under other circumstances, he would argue - Sirius was so intent on wasting all of his money on whatever frivolous thing crossed his mind. Jewelry was expensive, and he knew his partner well enough to know that a simple gold band wasn’t going to be flashy enough. But for something like this, something that Sirius seemed genuinely excited about... “New rings sound lovely.”

“We’ll make a day of it! Ring shopping, lunch at the cafe, a trip to the animal shelter-”

Remus blinked, “The animal shelter?”

“To pick out our new cat, of course!” Sirius said it as if Remus should have known. As if it was a conversation they’d had a hundred times before, and not an off-handed comment Sirius made months ago that Remus had all but forgotten. “Should we get two, do you think? The house is plenty big enough. Three or four might be better, now that I think about it-”

“One should be fine, to start.”

“Fine,” Sirius huffed. The defiance in his tone suggested that this multiple cat idea was going to come up again. Probably at the shelter. Remus could already imagine it: Sirius, with an armful of felines, insisting that he was already too attached to each of them and that their family was not to be separated.

Remus would give in, of course, and Sirius probably knew it. Still, he wasn’t going to cave in until he had to. He had some dignity left. 

“So,” Sirius began, counting their errands off on his fingers, “Rings, lunch, animal shelter, home for some debauchery… Anything else on our list for the weekend?”

“Figuring out how to magically destroy a Horcrux beyond repair,” Remus sighed heavily. 

“Oh, that ,” Sirius said, as if Remus had reminded him of a task as simple as dusting. “I suppose we can squeeze it in.”

“I’m not so sure,” Remus admitted. “If Kreacher couldn’t figure out how to destroy it, how much hope do we have of figuring it out?”

“We’re not nasty, miserable little pissants, for starters." Sirius straightened the collar of his shirt, looking quite proud to surpass that bare minimum criteria. 

Remus pressed his lips together, his uncertainty clear even in the silence. Sirius was brilliant. Together they were brilliant. But were they enough for such a monumental task?

“Oh come on, Moony, relax! ” Sirius closed in on him again, arms winding around his waist, his forehead resting against his shoulders. “It’s one little locket. We’ve been up against worse plenty of times and made it out just fine. We can handle this.”

Remus relaxed, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his new husband’s trousers. “Right; one locket, with a piece of Voldemort’s soul attached to it. How hard could it be?”