FIC: Three Times Remus and Sirius Didn't Get Together and One Time They Did, for shaggydogstail
Title:Three Times Remus and Sirius Didn’t Get Together and One Time They Did
Author/Artist: mindabbles
Recipient: shaggydogstail
Rating:PG-13 - very light R
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *AU in which everything works out for the best. *
Word count:5,000
Summary: Remus and Sirius have a deal.
Notes: Shaggydogstail, thank you so much for writing such a delightful pinch hit last year! We appreciate it very, very much. I hope you enjoy this little, and very belated, thank you gift! Oh, and despite some moments where it might appear to be, this is not an angsty story - I promise! This is a story where everything works out for the best in the end. Thank you so much to gryffindorj for the beta help.
December 15, 1977
“Moony, there you are,” Sirius calls. He jogs across the Astronomy Tower and to the northern edge, where Remus stands, staring up at the sky.
“You say that as if you didn’t know where I was,” Remus says. He continues on making notes on his star chart, as if Sirius hadn’t even arrived.
“I said it as if you were here and I’ve spotted you,” says Sirius. “I don’t know why you’ve to be contrary. I have news, so stop being a swot and listen to me.”
“I’m not being a, oh for - ” Remus shakes his head and finally turns to look at Sirius. “What is it?”
“I’ve seen Evans snogging Prongs,” Sirius says, and then he waits for the reaction.
Remus raises his eyebrows and his eyes twinkle in the moonlight. It does funny things to Sirius’ insides when Remus looks like that. “Don’t you mean you’ve seen Prongs begging Evans to snog him right before she hexes him?”
“I saw what I saw. I reckon she finally cracked.” Sirius sits down, his back to the wall.
Remus stays, standing and looking over the edge of the tower. Sirius wishes Remus would sit with him, and he’s about to ask him to when Remus turns and looks down at him.
“So, Prongs and Evans, eh?” Remus says. “You, well, all right with that?”
Remus is giving him a careful look that Sirius can’t quite read.
“If she’s mad enough to want him,” Sirius says shrugging. Something about the way Remus is still looking at him is making him feel out of sorts. “Did you think I’d be upset?”
Remus shrugs and makes a show of looking over his chart. “Maybe,” he says.
“Moony,” Sirius says, and it’s suddenly very important that Remus understand. “James is like a brother to me, you know that, right?”
Remus smiles and he’s so close that Sirius can count his eyelashes. Remus tilts his head and for a mad, thrilling second, Sirius thinks he’s going to lean even closer. Instead, he slouches back against the wall and looks up to the stars.
Remus watches the way the light paints Moony’s skin and hair with strokes of silver. “That’s you and me not paired up, then. Pathetic pair, we are.” Sirius breathes deeply, for some reason his heart is pounding in his chest.
“Speak for yourself,” says Remus.
“What?” Sirius snaps, too loudly. “You’re what?”
“You may be pathetic, but don’t count me in that,” Remus says, giving him an odd look, and Sirius’ breathing beings to return to normal.
“You know what we should do, Moony?”
Remus shakes his head as if Sirius is about to say something mental. “What, Padfoot?”
“We should make a deal,” Sirius says, his resolve steadying his nerves.
“We should, should we? And what deal’s that?” Remus asks.
“If we’re both alone when we’re thirty, we should, you know, be together,” Sirius says, and as he says it, he realises it sounded much better in his head.
“You are absolutely mental,” Remus says, shaking his head again. His shaggy fringe falls over his forehead and Sirius thinks the expression on his face looks a little like hope.
October 20, 1981
The rucksack lies on his bed, half-full, or half-empty more like. He has no memory of packing it and no idea what he has left to pack. It feels so very odd to be leaving like this, without telling anyone where he’s going, and without telling Remus at all. He tells himself, once again, that this is only for a little while.
A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts. He’d recognise the lanky silhouette anywhere. He hesitates, considering for a moment not opening the door. Instead he closes the bedroom door so that Remus won’t see the half-empty rucksack and he goes to let him in.
“Hullo,” he says, going for as normal a tone as he can manage with the muscles in his jaw twitching and his stomach roiling.
“Hiya,” answers Remus.
“What’s up?” Sirius asks.
He tries to ignore the flinch that Remus fails to hide. Until recently Remus would not need for something to be up to drop by.
“I thought you should know that Peter’s left,” he says.
“Left? Left and gone where?” Sirius tries, and he knows that he fails, to keep any alarm out of his voice.
“I mean he’s gone. Left the country. No one knows where he is,” Remus says. He sounds worried and wary and Sirius schools his face into a blank expression. “I - I thought you should know, or that maybe…Padfoot - ”
He doesn’t think Remus has called him ‘Padfoot’ for months, and the reminder of affection makes his stomach twist.
Then, what he’s said sinks in. That wasn’t the plan. Sirius tells himself that this is only Peter being cautious, one extra step to make it less likely he’ll be caught. It occurs to Sirius to wonder how Remus knows Peter has left the country - Peter knows not to tell Remus anything right now, and if he did tell Remus, that means Remus knows something he shouldn't, but then Peter might have started a rumour to throw Remus off his trail. Sirius’ head begins to hurt. Remus is staring at him, hurt written all over his face. Sirius has waited too long to answer him. Even a few months ago, he would have launched into theories about where Peter might be, and he and Remus would have worked out three theories worth their salt within ten minutes together.
Sirius can feel the wall between them rise again.
Remus crosses his arms and says, “His Great Aunt Ima told me when I went by his place. No one else was at home and she said all she knew was that he’d gone.”
Remus’ words are all perfectly normal, but the clipped, matter-of-fact tone is not. It breaks Sirius’ heart and he wants to confront Remus. He wants to shout at him until Remus drops the wall and says something that convinces him one hundred percent that Remus either is or is not the spy - he’d much rather it were the latter, but anything would be a relief at this point.
“Sirius,” Remus says, glaring at him, and Sirius realises that he has to say something. Problem is, for the first time maybe ever, Sirius has no words at the ready. Lying to Remus doesn’t come easily.
He looks up and Remus moves fast. Sirius has a split second where he thinks Remus is going to attack him and then Remus’ mouth is on his. Sirius catches up quickly and he kisses back, all of the anger and hurt and fear and longing he’s felt in relation to Remus in the last - hell, five years - pours into the kiss. They are both gasping and flushed when they break apart. Sirius realises that, for those moments when he was kissing Remus, he forgot about secrets and lies and half-cocked plans and full-fledged tragedies.
“Remus,” he says, pushing Remus onto the sofa, and covering him with his body.
“Don’t talk.” Remus surges up against him, taking his mouth again and meeting Sirius’ desperation.
Sirius knows this isn’t the beginning of what he’s always wanted, this isn’t even a close approximation, but he’ll take it.
March 10, 1985
Remus is in the kitchen, on his own. Sirius has been hoping to catch him on his own, to give him his present. He’d rather not have Iain, the bloke that Remus is currently shagging, and his irritatingly perfect dark hair looming over his shoulder when he does.
“Here, why are you doing the work?” Sirius asks.
Remus is stacking sandwiches onto a tray. He turns and smiles as if Sirius coming in is the best thing that’s happened all evening.
“I like sandwiches,” Remus says. He nods at Sirius’ empty glass. “Looks like you need a refill. Where’s Malcolm?”
Sirius holds out his glass and Remus tops it off with smoking whisky. He doesn’t answer Remus’ question about the bloke that he is currently shagging - for some reason he always feels a bit off talking with Remus about other blokes.
“Twenty-five,” Sirius says, changing the subject and raising his glass to Remus. “Only five years until you’re thirty.”
Remus gives him that irritatingly unreadable look. “That’s true, Padfoot,” he says quietly. Remus glances at the door. “Listen, I was thinking, and - ”
Remus pauses and for some reason Sirius feels like he’s run a mile. He steps closer to Remus and Remus takes a step at the same time.
The kitchen door swings open and Iain leans in. He looks back and forth between the two of them and steps into the kitchen. He takes the tray from Remus, saying, “I’ll do that.” The way he puts his arm around Remus’ shoulder makes Sirius grind his back teeth together. He’s too brash for Remus, too tall, and too sure of himself. Remus can do better, and Sirius wishes that Remus knew it.
Remus glances at Sirius, wipes his hand on a tea towel, and says, “I’m finished. Time to get back to the guests.”
“I should get back, too,” Sirius says. He’s lost track of Malcolm and he realises it’s probably bad form to bring a bloke to a party where he knows two people and then leave him to himself. “Find Malcom.”
“Sirius,” says Remus as he follows Iain back out into the front room. “Hang about after the party. We’ll have a drink and catch up. I’ve missed you.”
“Idiot, I saw you last week,” Sirius says.
Remus smiles and shrugs. “I know.”
Sirius laughs and goes to find Malcolm and let him know he’s promised to stay and help Moony clean up tonight.
May 1, 1990
“My dear Ima was always pedantic and supercilious,” begins Aveenia, the birthday girl’s elder sister, an impressive feat given that Peter’s Great Aunt Ima is celebrating her 162nd birthday. “She possesses little humor and only knows how to interact with other people thanks to instructional texts she’s read on the subject. It’s unbelievable that she’s lived this long, given her heavy drinking and poor eating habits.”
Sirius turns to look at Remus. Remus meets his gaze for a split second. He seems to be exercising a tremendous amount of control over himself. Sirius thinks Remus might be in danger of passing out from trying so hard not to laugh. His barely contained laughter somehow makes it to his eyes and gives them a twinkle. It makes Sirius want to kiss him. It’s not terribly surprising, Sirius reflects - almost anything makes him want to kiss Remus these days.
“And now, we’ll hear a few words from my youngest sister, Olive,” Aveenia says. A young, twiggy looking man with a larger than usual amount of dust-coloured hair dashes up to the podium and helps Aveenia back to her table. It’s a rather long process and everyone waits, holding their collective breath, while she slowly makes her way, supported by this young man who looks as if a stiff breeze could knock him down. Sirius has the sneaking suspicion that some in attendance wouldn’t mind terribly much if Aunt Aveenia didn’t make it back to her seat at the head table for sometime, delaying the next speech as much as possible.
Remus leans in close and whispers in Sirius’ ear, “This is the strangest birthday party I have ever been to.”
Sirius nods. He doesn’t trust himself to look at Remus. The warmth of Remus’ breath against his ear travels through his body, making him shiver. This is not only the strangest birthday party Sirius has ever been to, it’s the only one he’s been to that feels more like a funeral, and, if he cared about propriety at all, he might be concerned at the wholly inappropriate reactions his body is having to his friend’s proximity on this surprisingly solemn, if extremely odd, occasion.
Aunt Aveenia must have made it safely to her chair in the time Sirius was distracted by Remus’ breathing because Aunt Olive has taken the podium.
“It’s as if they had hoped she’d be dead by now and they thought they’d get on with it, and have the funeral either way,” Sirius says, quietly enough so only Remus can hear. He’s richly rewarded by the crooked, half-smile and twinkling eyes of Remus trying not to laugh.
Aunt Olive is telling a story of a time her dear sister, Ima, decided to practice the new spell she’d learned in Charms on something heavier than a feather. “Apparently,” says Olive, in voice that sounds like a rusty gate, “Ima could start the charm, only she couldn’t sustain the charm. I remember falling, plummeting really, from near the ceiling of our little girl’s bedroom. I could see the flowers of my blanket rushing up at me and I thought I’d land on the bed, but instead I bounced onto my bedside table. I upset my collection of porcelain magical creatures. I broke the Kneazle kitten. It was my favorite. I finally landed on the floor and came to a stop just under the dressing table.” Olive pauses and takes a deep breath. She leans forward as if she is going to whisper a secret to the assembled crowd. “And I’m afraid of heights, to this day.”
*
“Why do you think Peter invited us to this shindig?” Sirius asks.
“Invited is a polite word for it,” says Remus. “I wouldn’t have said it before, but I think he hates us and wishes us ill.”
Sirius feels a small frisson of discomfort and Remus must feel it as well because he says immediately, “I’m sorry. That was off.”
“Do you think it’s some sort of twisted act of good will? He wants his single friends to see his old maiden auntie and realise the perils of growing old alone?”
“Does anyone actually say ‘maiden auntie’ anymore?” Remus asks, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Sirius has always liked this, Remus’ way of smiling without actually smiling - and he’s always liked the challenge of turning it into a full, broad smile.
“I just did, Moony,” Sirius says, elbowing him lightly in the ticklish spot in his ribs.
“Because you can, doesn’t mean you should. And at any rate, there must be a hundred people here. I don’t think she’s alone in being single.”
“You’re just annoyed because you know Peter sees you as the maiden auntie in this scenario,” Sirius whispers, leaning closer. Remus doesn’t lean away.
“Pft,” Remus says, his smile blooming across his face. He notices that Remus doesn’t mention that he is not, in fact, currently single in the strictest sense of the word, and lets himself enjoy that fact for a moment.
They are fine most of the time. Peter has redeemed himself many times over, starting with when he finally saw sense and fed Voldemort false information before disappearing all those years ago. Misunderstandings have been rehashed, and the past is almost always firmly in the past. It is in the past, that is, except when some comment that would have meant nothing when they were in school brings it all back. They’ve done a remarkable job of moving on. And yet, sometimes when Sirius is alone, he can’t help but think about that terrible and wonderful night with Remus, right before the war came to an end.
He looks at Remus, his kind face schooled in an expression of polite interest and thinks that there is one regret, one thing he wishes had gone differently. And, if it had, he might not have to think about Remus going home with what's-his-name on the weekend.
Remus turns and catches Sirius looking at him. He looks perplexed for one second before he says, “Do you hear what’s going on around us?”
Sirius pauses to listen. A man who is probably Aunt Aveenia’s senior is droning on about some theoretical charms work that Ima was apparently involved with. Now that Sirius thinks about it, he’s heard the same voice talking for what seems like an hour.
“What were you thinking about?” Remus asks.”You look a bit haunted.”
“Old regrets, I suppose,” says Sirius shrugging. They’ve all learned to let each other have their moments - they all always come out of it soon enough and too much happened not to have it come back now and again.
*
Aunt Aveenia announces a break in the scheduled speakers, with a note that anyone who would like to say a few words, before Aunt Ima makes her speech, will be welcome to do so after a short break for tea.
Remus is out of his chair almost before Aunt Aveenia’s finishes her announcement. The line at the tea table is long, and Sirius stands right behind him.
“So tell me again how James and Lily got out of this?” Remus asks. “And don’t tell me it’s because of your maiden auntie theory.”
“They’re coming, only they’ll be late,” Sirius said. “Tonks agreed to mind Harry, but she had to work later than she thought.”
Remus reaches for a cup of tea and a cake with pink icing and the letter “I” formed carefully in sparkling fondant. “Lucky them. They’ll miss the speeches.”
“I didn’t get any sense that the speeches were over,” Sirius adds, taking tea and a cake with pale green icing.
Remus groans and reaches for another cake.
*
There’s a sunny spot in the garden, near a shed and out of earshot of the droning voice of whoever decided to take up the offer of sharing about Aunt Ima.
Sirius and Remus stand in comfortable silence, sipping their tea and eating their cakes.
“At least the food is good,” Sirius says.
“So’s the food at the Leaky and it doesn’t come with dissertations on charms or recitations of childhood trauma. Oi, look who’s finally here,” says Remus, nodding in the direction of the archway that leads into the back garden.
Lily and James have finally arrived. Lily looks gorgeous in a bright green, spring dress. She’s quite pregnant and she seems to look prettier and prettier. James looks dashing in his dark grey dress robes, holding his stunning wife’s arm.
They spot Sirius and Remus right away and make a beeline for them.
“Escape while you still can,” Remus says before they even say hello. “No one’s seen you yet, you can leave and say Tonks never showed up.”
“Not having fun, Moony?” James asks. “Those cakes look good.”
“Speeches,” says Sirius. “Strange, awful speeches.”
“Where’s Peter?” Asks Lily.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seem him for ages,” Remus says, looking about as if Peter might pop out from behind the shed.
“I’d bet he’s taking his opportunity to go on about what a decent nephew he is for throwing the old dear this lovely doo to that third cousin once removed with the chestnut brown curls.”
“It’s past time he get someone besides us to test his new recipes on,” says Remus, looking a bit longingly at the tea table. Peter is a tremendous cook, but he likes to experiment perhaps a bit too much.
“Bang goes your maiden auntie theory,” says Remus, nudging Sirius with his elbow.
“His what?” asks James at the same time as Lily says, “Does anyone actually say ‘maiden auntie’ anymore?”
“Sirius has a theory that Peter invited us here so we can witness first-hand the perils of growing old alone,” says Remus.
“Didn’t you and Remus used to say that if you were both alone at 30, you’d shack up?” Lily asks.
“Remus isn’t alone,” says Sirius, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he intended. “He’s got what’s-his-name.”
“His name is Kyle. It’s not that hard to remember,” Remus says, shaking his head.
“It is if it you’d like the earth to swallow him,” James says. Sirius hopes Remus doesn’t catch the look James shoots him.
Sirius shoots one right back at him. James is under the delusion that Sirius has been in love with Remus since they were at school, with a short gap when he thought Remus was a traitorous, Death-Eater spy. There’s no denying that Sirius loves Remus. But loving him and being in love with him, well, those are different things. He loves James and Lily and Harry as well. Being honest, he doesn’t get distracted by the way any of their hands look, long fingers curling gracefully around a tumbler of whisky; and none of their smiles do funny things to his stomach; and, being brutally honest, he doesn’t ever think of any of them when he strokes himself off at night.
He can see that Moony is attractive, he has a pulse after all. And he wouldn’t shove him out of bed if the opportunity ever arose again, but with the war, and then the reconciliation, and then what with one or the other of them being with someone else, well, it’s never been the right time.
“I don’t wish the man any harm,” said Sirius. “It’s only I don’t think he’s right for our Moony.”
“Well, don’t worry,” says Remus. “I came to the same conclusion.”
“Oh,” says Sirius. “Um, sorry to hear that?”
“You’re both idiots,” says Lily, shaking her head. The woman is sometimes completely daft and makes no sense, if Sirius is going to continue being honest.
*
Sirius can’t take it anymore. The third cousin four times removed who’s waxing poetic about the light and tender quality of Ima’s potato scones doesn’t show any signs of flagging. Remus has been gone for far longer than necessary to see if he can find a taste of one of those scones.
The line at the loo is far too long. Sirius actually does have to piss, and with all of these people desperate for an excuse to step away from the festivities that seem as if they are going to go on until everyone here is at least as old as Aunt Ima, he decides he’d better find somewhere else to relieve himself. He walks away from the crowd and hears a very, very old man say, “My brother was in love with her, you know, Ima that is. He loved her and he never said. He always thought the right time would come. Guess it won’t now. Shame really.”
“Did she love him?” Asks a younger man nearest the very, very old man.
Sirius doesn’t wait to hear the answer.
There’s an overgrown hedgerow at the west end of the garden. A field stretches out on the other side of it. If he walks around and bends a bit, he can have a piss, admire the view, and miss the rest of the speeches.
He rounds the hedgerow and is reaching for his belt when he sees a figure sitting, back against the thick hedge.
“Don't stop on my account,” says Remus.
“What are you doing out here?” Sirius asks. He doesn’t actually continue to undo his flies.
“Couldn’t hear another soliloquy on Ima’s pumpkin scones or the shape of her toes or how she tormented her schoolmates when she was six. What’re you doing?” Remus’ tone is teasing and Sirius feels a little warm in the afternoon heat.
“I need a piss, but I thought you’d sussed that out.”
“On you go, then,” says Remus. He turns to look at Sirius and squints into the sun.
“Something you’re trying to tell me? You have a bit of thing about pissing?” Sirius asks.
Remus laughs and shakes his head. Sirius thinks he sees a bit of pink in Remus’ cheeks that’s not accounted for by the sun. “Just go over there,” says Remus, gesturing to the tall hedgerow at the back of the garden. “And then come and sit with me. Help me survive the rest of this afternoon.”
Sirius steps behind the tall hedge and he wonders if he’s delusional in thinking he’s noticed a shift in the air between him and Remus.
He walks back to where Remus is still sitting, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looks so relaxed, Sirius is sure he must have been nipping at a flask. Sirius flops down next to Remus, as close as he can sit without quite sitting in Remus’ lap.
“Moony,” Sirius says. He has nothing to add right now, so he leaves it at that.
“Padfoot,” says Remus. “I - what you said earlier, about regrets.”
Remus is breaking one of their rules. Unspoken as it might be, they don’t bring the past back up once it’s faded into the landscape again.
Sirius doesn’t say anything, but Remus continues anyway. “I was wondering about that.”
“I don’t regret everything that happened then,” said Sirius. He glances at Remus, his heart pounding with the weight of finally admitting it after all these years.
“You never regret anything,” Remus says. “That’s one of your finest and one of your worst qualities.”
“Don’t be obtuse. It doesn’t suit you,” Sirius says. Remus really is very clever and half the time he behaves as if he doesn’t understand what Sirius is saying.
Remus shoots Sirius a long-suffering look. “I’d have an easier time of it if you didn’t speak in riddles.”
“I’m saying, Moony, that I don’t want to end up like Aunt Ima,” Sirius says. Moony is lovely and sexy and all, but it’s infuriating how he sometimes needs things spelled out for him. “What do you say?”
“I don’t know because I still don’t have any idea what you’ve said,” Remus says, shaking his head as if Sirius is the one who’s being infuriating.
Sirius takes a deep breath. He’ll try one more time and if Remus doesn’t get it this time, he’s going to have to resort to kissing him. “I don’t want to grow old alone and we’re both thirty and we did have an understanding of sorts,” Sirius said. “If you remember.”
“Oh,” Remus says, understanding finally dawning on his really very lovely face. “I do.”
“It’s silly, really,” says Sirius. “Not to keep to the agreement.”
“Ridiculous,” says Remus. “It seems to have stood the test of time, after all.”
“It has at that,” Sirius says. “Well?”
Remus turns his head and he squints a little as the sun hits his eyes. Sirius can see every colour in his eyes. He looks at Sirius as if he’s never seen him before and Sirius doesn’t know what to say, so he leans forward.
Remus’ lips are soft and sun-warm. Sirius chases the sweetness from Aunt Ima’s birthday cakes that lingers on Remus’ lips with his tongue. Remus sighs and his hands find the back of Sirius head, fingers twining in his hair.
Sirius shifts onto his knees and swings one leg over Remus, straddling his lap. He leans back into the kiss, Remus’ mouth eager and hungry.
“Padfoot,” groans Remus and he pulls him down, into his lap. “God, I want to feel you,” he murmurs. He wraps his arms around Sirius’ body and holds him close. Sirius feels dizzy from how quickly this has gone from a simple kiss to frenzied need.
“Yeah,” Sirius agrees. He gasps as Remus rocks up and Sirius feels Remus’ cock press against his body. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sirius says, kissing along Remus’ jaw.
“Is this the place?” Someone asks behind them.
Sirius stops moving on Remus’ lap. He’s drunk with the heat and the desire that flows off Remus in waves. He glances over his shoulder and his cock twitches as Remus presses his heated face into Sirius’ chest. James and Lily are standing behind them, both with idiotic grins on their faces.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s about bloody time, but here?” James asks.
“We were just leaving,” Sirius says. Remus makes a soft sound of agreement, still pressing his face into Sirius’ chest.
“I see you’ve both finally come to your senses,” says Lily. “Now get out of here before they start the singing.”
Sirius looks down at Remus and Remus smiles happily at him. “Come home with me,” says Remus and Sirius thinks this, right here, is a tremendous step in the direction of what he’s always wanted.
Author/Artist: mindabbles
Recipient: shaggydogstail
Rating:PG-13 - very light R
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *AU in which everything works out for the best. *
Word count:5,000
Summary: Remus and Sirius have a deal.
Notes: Shaggydogstail, thank you so much for writing such a delightful pinch hit last year! We appreciate it very, very much. I hope you enjoy this little, and very belated, thank you gift! Oh, and despite some moments where it might appear to be, this is not an angsty story - I promise! This is a story where everything works out for the best in the end. Thank you so much to gryffindorj for the beta help.
December 15, 1977
“Moony, there you are,” Sirius calls. He jogs across the Astronomy Tower and to the northern edge, where Remus stands, staring up at the sky.
“You say that as if you didn’t know where I was,” Remus says. He continues on making notes on his star chart, as if Sirius hadn’t even arrived.
“I said it as if you were here and I’ve spotted you,” says Sirius. “I don’t know why you’ve to be contrary. I have news, so stop being a swot and listen to me.”
“I’m not being a, oh for - ” Remus shakes his head and finally turns to look at Sirius. “What is it?”
“I’ve seen Evans snogging Prongs,” Sirius says, and then he waits for the reaction.
Remus raises his eyebrows and his eyes twinkle in the moonlight. It does funny things to Sirius’ insides when Remus looks like that. “Don’t you mean you’ve seen Prongs begging Evans to snog him right before she hexes him?”
“I saw what I saw. I reckon she finally cracked.” Sirius sits down, his back to the wall.
Remus stays, standing and looking over the edge of the tower. Sirius wishes Remus would sit with him, and he’s about to ask him to when Remus turns and looks down at him.
“So, Prongs and Evans, eh?” Remus says. “You, well, all right with that?”
Remus is giving him a careful look that Sirius can’t quite read.
“If she’s mad enough to want him,” Sirius says shrugging. Something about the way Remus is still looking at him is making him feel out of sorts. “Did you think I’d be upset?”
Remus shrugs and makes a show of looking over his chart. “Maybe,” he says.
“Moony,” Sirius says, and it’s suddenly very important that Remus understand. “James is like a brother to me, you know that, right?”
Remus smiles and he’s so close that Sirius can count his eyelashes. Remus tilts his head and for a mad, thrilling second, Sirius thinks he’s going to lean even closer. Instead, he slouches back against the wall and looks up to the stars.
Remus watches the way the light paints Moony’s skin and hair with strokes of silver. “That’s you and me not paired up, then. Pathetic pair, we are.” Sirius breathes deeply, for some reason his heart is pounding in his chest.
“Speak for yourself,” says Remus.
“What?” Sirius snaps, too loudly. “You’re what?”
“You may be pathetic, but don’t count me in that,” Remus says, giving him an odd look, and Sirius’ breathing beings to return to normal.
“You know what we should do, Moony?”
Remus shakes his head as if Sirius is about to say something mental. “What, Padfoot?”
“We should make a deal,” Sirius says, his resolve steadying his nerves.
“We should, should we? And what deal’s that?” Remus asks.
“If we’re both alone when we’re thirty, we should, you know, be together,” Sirius says, and as he says it, he realises it sounded much better in his head.
“You are absolutely mental,” Remus says, shaking his head again. His shaggy fringe falls over his forehead and Sirius thinks the expression on his face looks a little like hope.
October 20, 1981
The rucksack lies on his bed, half-full, or half-empty more like. He has no memory of packing it and no idea what he has left to pack. It feels so very odd to be leaving like this, without telling anyone where he’s going, and without telling Remus at all. He tells himself, once again, that this is only for a little while.
A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts. He’d recognise the lanky silhouette anywhere. He hesitates, considering for a moment not opening the door. Instead he closes the bedroom door so that Remus won’t see the half-empty rucksack and he goes to let him in.
“Hullo,” he says, going for as normal a tone as he can manage with the muscles in his jaw twitching and his stomach roiling.
“Hiya,” answers Remus.
“What’s up?” Sirius asks.
He tries to ignore the flinch that Remus fails to hide. Until recently Remus would not need for something to be up to drop by.
“I thought you should know that Peter’s left,” he says.
“Left? Left and gone where?” Sirius tries, and he knows that he fails, to keep any alarm out of his voice.
“I mean he’s gone. Left the country. No one knows where he is,” Remus says. He sounds worried and wary and Sirius schools his face into a blank expression. “I - I thought you should know, or that maybe…Padfoot - ”
He doesn’t think Remus has called him ‘Padfoot’ for months, and the reminder of affection makes his stomach twist.
Then, what he’s said sinks in. That wasn’t the plan. Sirius tells himself that this is only Peter being cautious, one extra step to make it less likely he’ll be caught. It occurs to Sirius to wonder how Remus knows Peter has left the country - Peter knows not to tell Remus anything right now, and if he did tell Remus, that means Remus knows something he shouldn't, but then Peter might have started a rumour to throw Remus off his trail. Sirius’ head begins to hurt. Remus is staring at him, hurt written all over his face. Sirius has waited too long to answer him. Even a few months ago, he would have launched into theories about where Peter might be, and he and Remus would have worked out three theories worth their salt within ten minutes together.
Sirius can feel the wall between them rise again.
Remus crosses his arms and says, “His Great Aunt Ima told me when I went by his place. No one else was at home and she said all she knew was that he’d gone.”
Remus’ words are all perfectly normal, but the clipped, matter-of-fact tone is not. It breaks Sirius’ heart and he wants to confront Remus. He wants to shout at him until Remus drops the wall and says something that convinces him one hundred percent that Remus either is or is not the spy - he’d much rather it were the latter, but anything would be a relief at this point.
“Sirius,” Remus says, glaring at him, and Sirius realises that he has to say something. Problem is, for the first time maybe ever, Sirius has no words at the ready. Lying to Remus doesn’t come easily.
He looks up and Remus moves fast. Sirius has a split second where he thinks Remus is going to attack him and then Remus’ mouth is on his. Sirius catches up quickly and he kisses back, all of the anger and hurt and fear and longing he’s felt in relation to Remus in the last - hell, five years - pours into the kiss. They are both gasping and flushed when they break apart. Sirius realises that, for those moments when he was kissing Remus, he forgot about secrets and lies and half-cocked plans and full-fledged tragedies.
“Remus,” he says, pushing Remus onto the sofa, and covering him with his body.
“Don’t talk.” Remus surges up against him, taking his mouth again and meeting Sirius’ desperation.
Sirius knows this isn’t the beginning of what he’s always wanted, this isn’t even a close approximation, but he’ll take it.
March 10, 1985
Remus is in the kitchen, on his own. Sirius has been hoping to catch him on his own, to give him his present. He’d rather not have Iain, the bloke that Remus is currently shagging, and his irritatingly perfect dark hair looming over his shoulder when he does.
“Here, why are you doing the work?” Sirius asks.
Remus is stacking sandwiches onto a tray. He turns and smiles as if Sirius coming in is the best thing that’s happened all evening.
“I like sandwiches,” Remus says. He nods at Sirius’ empty glass. “Looks like you need a refill. Where’s Malcolm?”
Sirius holds out his glass and Remus tops it off with smoking whisky. He doesn’t answer Remus’ question about the bloke that he is currently shagging - for some reason he always feels a bit off talking with Remus about other blokes.
“Twenty-five,” Sirius says, changing the subject and raising his glass to Remus. “Only five years until you’re thirty.”
Remus gives him that irritatingly unreadable look. “That’s true, Padfoot,” he says quietly. Remus glances at the door. “Listen, I was thinking, and - ”
Remus pauses and for some reason Sirius feels like he’s run a mile. He steps closer to Remus and Remus takes a step at the same time.
The kitchen door swings open and Iain leans in. He looks back and forth between the two of them and steps into the kitchen. He takes the tray from Remus, saying, “I’ll do that.” The way he puts his arm around Remus’ shoulder makes Sirius grind his back teeth together. He’s too brash for Remus, too tall, and too sure of himself. Remus can do better, and Sirius wishes that Remus knew it.
Remus glances at Sirius, wipes his hand on a tea towel, and says, “I’m finished. Time to get back to the guests.”
“I should get back, too,” Sirius says. He’s lost track of Malcolm and he realises it’s probably bad form to bring a bloke to a party where he knows two people and then leave him to himself. “Find Malcom.”
“Sirius,” says Remus as he follows Iain back out into the front room. “Hang about after the party. We’ll have a drink and catch up. I’ve missed you.”
“Idiot, I saw you last week,” Sirius says.
Remus smiles and shrugs. “I know.”
Sirius laughs and goes to find Malcolm and let him know he’s promised to stay and help Moony clean up tonight.
May 1, 1990
“My dear Ima was always pedantic and supercilious,” begins Aveenia, the birthday girl’s elder sister, an impressive feat given that Peter’s Great Aunt Ima is celebrating her 162nd birthday. “She possesses little humor and only knows how to interact with other people thanks to instructional texts she’s read on the subject. It’s unbelievable that she’s lived this long, given her heavy drinking and poor eating habits.”
Sirius turns to look at Remus. Remus meets his gaze for a split second. He seems to be exercising a tremendous amount of control over himself. Sirius thinks Remus might be in danger of passing out from trying so hard not to laugh. His barely contained laughter somehow makes it to his eyes and gives them a twinkle. It makes Sirius want to kiss him. It’s not terribly surprising, Sirius reflects - almost anything makes him want to kiss Remus these days.
“And now, we’ll hear a few words from my youngest sister, Olive,” Aveenia says. A young, twiggy looking man with a larger than usual amount of dust-coloured hair dashes up to the podium and helps Aveenia back to her table. It’s a rather long process and everyone waits, holding their collective breath, while she slowly makes her way, supported by this young man who looks as if a stiff breeze could knock him down. Sirius has the sneaking suspicion that some in attendance wouldn’t mind terribly much if Aunt Aveenia didn’t make it back to her seat at the head table for sometime, delaying the next speech as much as possible.
Remus leans in close and whispers in Sirius’ ear, “This is the strangest birthday party I have ever been to.”
Sirius nods. He doesn’t trust himself to look at Remus. The warmth of Remus’ breath against his ear travels through his body, making him shiver. This is not only the strangest birthday party Sirius has ever been to, it’s the only one he’s been to that feels more like a funeral, and, if he cared about propriety at all, he might be concerned at the wholly inappropriate reactions his body is having to his friend’s proximity on this surprisingly solemn, if extremely odd, occasion.
Aunt Aveenia must have made it safely to her chair in the time Sirius was distracted by Remus’ breathing because Aunt Olive has taken the podium.
“It’s as if they had hoped she’d be dead by now and they thought they’d get on with it, and have the funeral either way,” Sirius says, quietly enough so only Remus can hear. He’s richly rewarded by the crooked, half-smile and twinkling eyes of Remus trying not to laugh.
Aunt Olive is telling a story of a time her dear sister, Ima, decided to practice the new spell she’d learned in Charms on something heavier than a feather. “Apparently,” says Olive, in voice that sounds like a rusty gate, “Ima could start the charm, only she couldn’t sustain the charm. I remember falling, plummeting really, from near the ceiling of our little girl’s bedroom. I could see the flowers of my blanket rushing up at me and I thought I’d land on the bed, but instead I bounced onto my bedside table. I upset my collection of porcelain magical creatures. I broke the Kneazle kitten. It was my favorite. I finally landed on the floor and came to a stop just under the dressing table.” Olive pauses and takes a deep breath. She leans forward as if she is going to whisper a secret to the assembled crowd. “And I’m afraid of heights, to this day.”
*
“Why do you think Peter invited us to this shindig?” Sirius asks.
“Invited is a polite word for it,” says Remus. “I wouldn’t have said it before, but I think he hates us and wishes us ill.”
Sirius feels a small frisson of discomfort and Remus must feel it as well because he says immediately, “I’m sorry. That was off.”
“Do you think it’s some sort of twisted act of good will? He wants his single friends to see his old maiden auntie and realise the perils of growing old alone?”
“Does anyone actually say ‘maiden auntie’ anymore?” Remus asks, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Sirius has always liked this, Remus’ way of smiling without actually smiling - and he’s always liked the challenge of turning it into a full, broad smile.
“I just did, Moony,” Sirius says, elbowing him lightly in the ticklish spot in his ribs.
“Because you can, doesn’t mean you should. And at any rate, there must be a hundred people here. I don’t think she’s alone in being single.”
“You’re just annoyed because you know Peter sees you as the maiden auntie in this scenario,” Sirius whispers, leaning closer. Remus doesn’t lean away.
“Pft,” Remus says, his smile blooming across his face. He notices that Remus doesn’t mention that he is not, in fact, currently single in the strictest sense of the word, and lets himself enjoy that fact for a moment.
They are fine most of the time. Peter has redeemed himself many times over, starting with when he finally saw sense and fed Voldemort false information before disappearing all those years ago. Misunderstandings have been rehashed, and the past is almost always firmly in the past. It is in the past, that is, except when some comment that would have meant nothing when they were in school brings it all back. They’ve done a remarkable job of moving on. And yet, sometimes when Sirius is alone, he can’t help but think about that terrible and wonderful night with Remus, right before the war came to an end.
He looks at Remus, his kind face schooled in an expression of polite interest and thinks that there is one regret, one thing he wishes had gone differently. And, if it had, he might not have to think about Remus going home with what's-his-name on the weekend.
Remus turns and catches Sirius looking at him. He looks perplexed for one second before he says, “Do you hear what’s going on around us?”
Sirius pauses to listen. A man who is probably Aunt Aveenia’s senior is droning on about some theoretical charms work that Ima was apparently involved with. Now that Sirius thinks about it, he’s heard the same voice talking for what seems like an hour.
“What were you thinking about?” Remus asks.”You look a bit haunted.”
“Old regrets, I suppose,” says Sirius shrugging. They’ve all learned to let each other have their moments - they all always come out of it soon enough and too much happened not to have it come back now and again.
*
Aunt Aveenia announces a break in the scheduled speakers, with a note that anyone who would like to say a few words, before Aunt Ima makes her speech, will be welcome to do so after a short break for tea.
Remus is out of his chair almost before Aunt Aveenia’s finishes her announcement. The line at the tea table is long, and Sirius stands right behind him.
“So tell me again how James and Lily got out of this?” Remus asks. “And don’t tell me it’s because of your maiden auntie theory.”
“They’re coming, only they’ll be late,” Sirius said. “Tonks agreed to mind Harry, but she had to work later than she thought.”
Remus reaches for a cup of tea and a cake with pink icing and the letter “I” formed carefully in sparkling fondant. “Lucky them. They’ll miss the speeches.”
“I didn’t get any sense that the speeches were over,” Sirius adds, taking tea and a cake with pale green icing.
Remus groans and reaches for another cake.
*
There’s a sunny spot in the garden, near a shed and out of earshot of the droning voice of whoever decided to take up the offer of sharing about Aunt Ima.
Sirius and Remus stand in comfortable silence, sipping their tea and eating their cakes.
“At least the food is good,” Sirius says.
“So’s the food at the Leaky and it doesn’t come with dissertations on charms or recitations of childhood trauma. Oi, look who’s finally here,” says Remus, nodding in the direction of the archway that leads into the back garden.
Lily and James have finally arrived. Lily looks gorgeous in a bright green, spring dress. She’s quite pregnant and she seems to look prettier and prettier. James looks dashing in his dark grey dress robes, holding his stunning wife’s arm.
They spot Sirius and Remus right away and make a beeline for them.
“Escape while you still can,” Remus says before they even say hello. “No one’s seen you yet, you can leave and say Tonks never showed up.”
“Not having fun, Moony?” James asks. “Those cakes look good.”
“Speeches,” says Sirius. “Strange, awful speeches.”
“Where’s Peter?” Asks Lily.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seem him for ages,” Remus says, looking about as if Peter might pop out from behind the shed.
“I’d bet he’s taking his opportunity to go on about what a decent nephew he is for throwing the old dear this lovely doo to that third cousin once removed with the chestnut brown curls.”
“It’s past time he get someone besides us to test his new recipes on,” says Remus, looking a bit longingly at the tea table. Peter is a tremendous cook, but he likes to experiment perhaps a bit too much.
“Bang goes your maiden auntie theory,” says Remus, nudging Sirius with his elbow.
“His what?” asks James at the same time as Lily says, “Does anyone actually say ‘maiden auntie’ anymore?”
“Sirius has a theory that Peter invited us here so we can witness first-hand the perils of growing old alone,” says Remus.
“Didn’t you and Remus used to say that if you were both alone at 30, you’d shack up?” Lily asks.
“Remus isn’t alone,” says Sirius, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he intended. “He’s got what’s-his-name.”
“His name is Kyle. It’s not that hard to remember,” Remus says, shaking his head.
“It is if it you’d like the earth to swallow him,” James says. Sirius hopes Remus doesn’t catch the look James shoots him.
Sirius shoots one right back at him. James is under the delusion that Sirius has been in love with Remus since they were at school, with a short gap when he thought Remus was a traitorous, Death-Eater spy. There’s no denying that Sirius loves Remus. But loving him and being in love with him, well, those are different things. He loves James and Lily and Harry as well. Being honest, he doesn’t get distracted by the way any of their hands look, long fingers curling gracefully around a tumbler of whisky; and none of their smiles do funny things to his stomach; and, being brutally honest, he doesn’t ever think of any of them when he strokes himself off at night.
He can see that Moony is attractive, he has a pulse after all. And he wouldn’t shove him out of bed if the opportunity ever arose again, but with the war, and then the reconciliation, and then what with one or the other of them being with someone else, well, it’s never been the right time.
“I don’t wish the man any harm,” said Sirius. “It’s only I don’t think he’s right for our Moony.”
“Well, don’t worry,” says Remus. “I came to the same conclusion.”
“Oh,” says Sirius. “Um, sorry to hear that?”
“You’re both idiots,” says Lily, shaking her head. The woman is sometimes completely daft and makes no sense, if Sirius is going to continue being honest.
*
Sirius can’t take it anymore. The third cousin four times removed who’s waxing poetic about the light and tender quality of Ima’s potato scones doesn’t show any signs of flagging. Remus has been gone for far longer than necessary to see if he can find a taste of one of those scones.
The line at the loo is far too long. Sirius actually does have to piss, and with all of these people desperate for an excuse to step away from the festivities that seem as if they are going to go on until everyone here is at least as old as Aunt Ima, he decides he’d better find somewhere else to relieve himself. He walks away from the crowd and hears a very, very old man say, “My brother was in love with her, you know, Ima that is. He loved her and he never said. He always thought the right time would come. Guess it won’t now. Shame really.”
“Did she love him?” Asks a younger man nearest the very, very old man.
Sirius doesn’t wait to hear the answer.
There’s an overgrown hedgerow at the west end of the garden. A field stretches out on the other side of it. If he walks around and bends a bit, he can have a piss, admire the view, and miss the rest of the speeches.
He rounds the hedgerow and is reaching for his belt when he sees a figure sitting, back against the thick hedge.
“Don't stop on my account,” says Remus.
“What are you doing out here?” Sirius asks. He doesn’t actually continue to undo his flies.
“Couldn’t hear another soliloquy on Ima’s pumpkin scones or the shape of her toes or how she tormented her schoolmates when she was six. What’re you doing?” Remus’ tone is teasing and Sirius feels a little warm in the afternoon heat.
“I need a piss, but I thought you’d sussed that out.”
“On you go, then,” says Remus. He turns to look at Sirius and squints into the sun.
“Something you’re trying to tell me? You have a bit of thing about pissing?” Sirius asks.
Remus laughs and shakes his head. Sirius thinks he sees a bit of pink in Remus’ cheeks that’s not accounted for by the sun. “Just go over there,” says Remus, gesturing to the tall hedgerow at the back of the garden. “And then come and sit with me. Help me survive the rest of this afternoon.”
Sirius steps behind the tall hedge and he wonders if he’s delusional in thinking he’s noticed a shift in the air between him and Remus.
He walks back to where Remus is still sitting, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looks so relaxed, Sirius is sure he must have been nipping at a flask. Sirius flops down next to Remus, as close as he can sit without quite sitting in Remus’ lap.
“Moony,” Sirius says. He has nothing to add right now, so he leaves it at that.
“Padfoot,” says Remus. “I - what you said earlier, about regrets.”
Remus is breaking one of their rules. Unspoken as it might be, they don’t bring the past back up once it’s faded into the landscape again.
Sirius doesn’t say anything, but Remus continues anyway. “I was wondering about that.”
“I don’t regret everything that happened then,” said Sirius. He glances at Remus, his heart pounding with the weight of finally admitting it after all these years.
“You never regret anything,” Remus says. “That’s one of your finest and one of your worst qualities.”
“Don’t be obtuse. It doesn’t suit you,” Sirius says. Remus really is very clever and half the time he behaves as if he doesn’t understand what Sirius is saying.
Remus shoots Sirius a long-suffering look. “I’d have an easier time of it if you didn’t speak in riddles.”
“I’m saying, Moony, that I don’t want to end up like Aunt Ima,” Sirius says. Moony is lovely and sexy and all, but it’s infuriating how he sometimes needs things spelled out for him. “What do you say?”
“I don’t know because I still don’t have any idea what you’ve said,” Remus says, shaking his head as if Sirius is the one who’s being infuriating.
Sirius takes a deep breath. He’ll try one more time and if Remus doesn’t get it this time, he’s going to have to resort to kissing him. “I don’t want to grow old alone and we’re both thirty and we did have an understanding of sorts,” Sirius said. “If you remember.”
“Oh,” Remus says, understanding finally dawning on his really very lovely face. “I do.”
“It’s silly, really,” says Sirius. “Not to keep to the agreement.”
“Ridiculous,” says Remus. “It seems to have stood the test of time, after all.”
“It has at that,” Sirius says. “Well?”
Remus turns his head and he squints a little as the sun hits his eyes. Sirius can see every colour in his eyes. He looks at Sirius as if he’s never seen him before and Sirius doesn’t know what to say, so he leans forward.
Remus’ lips are soft and sun-warm. Sirius chases the sweetness from Aunt Ima’s birthday cakes that lingers on Remus’ lips with his tongue. Remus sighs and his hands find the back of Sirius head, fingers twining in his hair.
Sirius shifts onto his knees and swings one leg over Remus, straddling his lap. He leans back into the kiss, Remus’ mouth eager and hungry.
“Padfoot,” groans Remus and he pulls him down, into his lap. “God, I want to feel you,” he murmurs. He wraps his arms around Sirius’ body and holds him close. Sirius feels dizzy from how quickly this has gone from a simple kiss to frenzied need.
“Yeah,” Sirius agrees. He gasps as Remus rocks up and Sirius feels Remus’ cock press against his body. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sirius says, kissing along Remus’ jaw.
“Is this the place?” Someone asks behind them.
Sirius stops moving on Remus’ lap. He’s drunk with the heat and the desire that flows off Remus in waves. He glances over his shoulder and his cock twitches as Remus presses his heated face into Sirius’ chest. James and Lily are standing behind them, both with idiotic grins on their faces.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s about bloody time, but here?” James asks.
“We were just leaving,” Sirius says. Remus makes a soft sound of agreement, still pressing his face into Sirius’ chest.
“I see you’ve both finally come to your senses,” says Lily. “Now get out of here before they start the singing.”
Sirius looks down at Remus and Remus smiles happily at him. “Come home with me,” says Remus and Sirius thinks this, right here, is a tremendous step in the direction of what he’s always wanted.