Chapter Text
Sirius tears down the corridor, his mind screaming at him that he’s running straight into the jaws of death. It’s without a doubt the stupidest thing he’s ever done, but maybe it’s also the bravest. Funny how those two coincide so often.
The wolf looks startled to see him running towards it instead of away, and he uses the moment of hesitation to slam into a door on his right, opening to another corridor which leads back into the depths of the hospital. He shouts as he does, garbled noises rather than words, all that matters is he makes a racket to attract the attention to himself. And he’s always been good at that, it comes naturally. He hears heavy footfalls behind him and glances back. It worked. The wolf is following him down the corridor, snarling but not nearly as vicious as before, almost like it’s confused by his stupidity of running towards it.
He runs. He runs as fast as he can, lungs screaming at him and legs burning, but the wolf lopes easily behind him, strides not even extended all the way and fucking hell, it’s not even trying. It knows he can’t outrun it. They both do.
He reaches what looks like a reception area for one of the wards, an enormous U shaped desk looming out of the darkness ahead, and he leaps over it, putting it between him and the wolf. If he can just keep it that way maybe he can last until dawn.
The wolf charges into the room and skids to a halt to see Sirius hunched behind the desk, legs spring loaded and ready to run at the slightest movement. But the wolf just stares. The amber eyes regard him curiously, calculating. There’s still hunger in the face but there’s something else too, something not entirely attributable to the simple expressions of a canine. Something just slightly… human.
Footsteps thud to his right and a door swings open, banging into the wall, startling them both out of the shared curious stare. James steps through, loyal and fucking stubborn as hell, silvery glint of the gun held aloft and pointed at the wolf. His jaw is a sharp line of defiance and although his hand shakes, his gaze never wavers. Sirius gapes, but he has no time to curse the unshakable loyalty of his best friend, because the wolf’s eyes lock on James and the snarl returns, hackles raising, and fuck, those teeth are huge this close. It stalks towards James, tongue flicking out to lick at its teeth, Sirius all but forgotten with the appearance of this more aggressive adversary.
“Don’t”, James pants heavily, voice low and rough, “don’t make me do this. Remus, please.”
He still doesn’t want to do this. Even looking death right in the eye he still refuses to hurt his friends. Sirius can’t do this, can’t lose either of them.
In two strides he’s between them. James shouts something at him but he only has eyes for the wolf right now. There had been something in the eyes before James had appeared - he knows it. Knows it as certainly as he could recognise Remus deaf and blind.
“It’s me”, he implores, surprised to find his voice steady when his entire body shakes, “Remus, I know you’re in there.”
The wolf pauses again to find him stepping willingly into its path. The teeth are still bared but the approach slows, like it’s trying to figure out why this particular prey is so stupid and desperate to die. He keeps his eyes fixed on the amber, refusing to look at the singed pink and black flesh on its nose and ears, and god, everywhere . It's everywhere, the silver must have hurt so much, it's no wonder Remus lost control and the wolf took over.
“Listen to me”, he insists, hands slowly raising palms outward in a gesture of vulnerability, hoping it triggers something, “you don’t want to hurt James, you don’t want to hurt me. I know you - you can control this, baby, I know you can. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, you can do this. Just listen to my voice, look at me, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere and you won’t hurt me.”
James makes a strangled noise of protest behind him but he presses on, because the slow approach of the wolf has almost stopped completely, and the ears flicked ever so slightly. Like it’s listening.
“I know you’re in there right now, screaming at me”, a shaky smile slips onto his face, “absolutely ripping into me for being a fucking idiot, telling me to run. And you’re right, you’re absolutely right, as usual. The only time I’ll admit it. This is so stupid and I know it’s dangerous. But I’m not letting go, I’m not leaving. You said forever, right?” His breath catches in his throat as the wolf freezes, ears twitching, flicking back. “You told me forever and I’m not letting go of that - it belongs to us and I’m not letting go.”
The wolf blinks, huffing harshly, like it’s struggling. Fighting with something. Remus - fighting, clawing back his consciousness from the wolf. He can see it in the eyes and his heart surges with hope. He slowly crouches down to make himself smaller, less of a threat to the wolf, so there’s less for Remus to fight against. He hisses for James to lower the gun and he doesn’t look back to see if he obeys, just hopes that he understands what’s happening.
He’s going to talk them out of this, as he’s done countless times before in much less dire circumstances. If it’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s talk.
“We’re going to go to Scotland, right?” He babbles, still stuck on that day that Remus promised forever, and how he said they'd travel together. “Yeah, that’s where we’ll go first. You’ll like it there, all the old castles and history and dull shit that I never cared about, but I’ll listen to you prattle on about it for hours. God, I can’t wait to hear your voice again, Remus. I just want to hear your voice.” His voice splinters around the words, sharp edges catching on his tongue, and he wonders if he'll ever get to hear the deep, smooth tones again that calm him so effortlessly - his voice could soothe a hurricane to quiet.
He forces himself to keep talking, tearing himself away from the thought, “I’ll drag you off to - I don’t fucking know - Morocco, why not? It’s hot and got good food and you could do with both. I absolutely will make us stay in a hostel at least once because that's the thing to do, and I already know you’ll hate it, complaining left and right. But you’ll do it anyway because you always give into what I want, don’t you? Anything for me… even the sun, you said. Do you remember that?”
His voice shakes, words spilling right from his chest, no filter between his brain and his tongue. He says what he feels, all of it, because this is the only chance he has and no matter what happens, no matter how this ends, he needs Remus to hear it.
“You said you want me at my best and my worst. I'm mostly worst. You’ve seen parts of me I never let anyone see, and you trusted me enough to show me this, this part of you I know you hate, and I love you even now, especially now. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it all, it makes me do stupid things, so fucking stupid. But I love you and I'm here - I’m waiting for you, right here. You just have to come back to me.”
The wolf shakes its head and the hackles raise further for a moment, growl deepening and Sirius falters. If this doesn’t work he’s a goner - the wolf is so close that he can feel its breath hot and damp on his face, and those snapping jaws send a block of ice sliding down his spine. But then the growling stops abruptly. Ears flatten and amber slides smoothly into honey brown, blinking.
Sirius exhales sharply, “Remus?”
Lupine eyes widen, glancing around the room, darting from Sirius to James behind him, snagging somewhere down by Sirius’ shoulder where James must have lowered the gun to his side. The eyes jerk back to Sirius, and he's caught in them as sure as Remus has a hold on his heart.
Remus turns and bolts.
Sirius stares at the space where the wolf had stood, so large that he almost seemed to take up the whole room, and now that he’s gone it’s empty, so empty. He still crouches, shaking, muscles like lead. James murmurs something urgently behind him but his mind chugs along too sluggishly to understand, still staring at the empty space where the love of his life and death had been looking back at him. Warm grip on his arm, pulling, and suddenly he’s on his feet, swaying.
James is deathly pale under his glasses, and his eyes are oddly bright, shimmering. He’s saying something, Sirius forces himself to focus, to wade through the thick mud that’s descended on his brain to hear what he’s saying.
“... mental, absolutely fucking mental. Let’s get out of here, okay? He’ll be alright now, but we can’t stay here.”
The world starts to speed up back to normal again, and his five senses rush towards him at once. His blood thuds in his ears, legs shaking with the effort of standing, hands trembling, and the smell of James in his nose, comforting, home. He takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.”
James falters, lips thinning like he’s trying to hold something in.
“I fucked it up, I’m sorry,” Sirius insists, reaching for him and finding the front of his shirt, curling his fists into the warm fabric, “you and Lily - if something happened to you, I don’t- I’m sorry.”
Messy black hair shakes and James swallows hard, looking away. His eyes shimmer.
“Let’s go.”
Sirius hesitates. “He… he needs me.”
He’s dimly surprised to see James just nod, accepting without a fight.
“You’re not going to argue?” He wonders aloud.
James looks at him - really looks at him. Considers carefully, then says simply, “I heard all of it. How can I argue with any of that?”
Sirius offers up a weak smile, apologetic, fractured.
He turns and follows the faintest sound of a whine, shuddering on the end of ragged breaths. James doesn’t follow him.
“Remus?” He murmurs, hovering in the doorway.
The room Remus scarpered to is dim, but he makes it out to be an office of sorts. He sees the glint of eyes in the shadows under the desk. They’re more honey than yellow, but he’s not surprised - Remus' control is incredible and he knows he'll fight tooth and nail to keep it. He moves forward cautiously, slowly, showing he’s no threat. The wolf whines again, just the slightest pitch on the end of a breath, like he can’t help it, and the desk rattles as he tries to retreat further into the darkness, away from Sirius.
He sits on the floor, his back against the desk, and there’s a tail just inches from his hand.
“Tonight was a right mess”, he says quietly, an absolute understatement. Remus exhales sharply through the long snout. It’s as close to a dry chuckle as a wolf can get, he thinks.
“I’m not gonna lie, the gun thing threw me”, he continues tiredly, adrenaline receding and leaving sheer exhaustion in its wake, “We’re going to have to talk about it at some point. But not tonight.”
The shuddering underneath the desk stills, like Remus is listening intently.
“I know you’re beating yourself up in there. This wasn’t your fault, babe.” He says gently, “James and Lily are okay, you didn't hurt anyone. I'm not going to let you tear yourself up over this. And I know this was so far from the plan that it’s on another fucking planet, but it worked - the meds worked. You know what this means, right?”
He sees ears twitch in the corner of his eye. What does it mean?
“We’ve got it, we’ve got our forever." He wishes he could summon up more enthusiasm but he’s exhausted. He keeps talking, voice hoarse and low, “We can do all the things we talked about. I meant all of it. I can’t wait to be a pain in your arse forever.”
He leans his head back against the desk, closing his eyes. It should feel dangerous, having the wolf out of his sights and exposing his neck this way. It doesn’t.
“What do you think of America?” He mumbles, words slurring, “M’not sure. It’s so far, but I bet the party scene is worth it. Oh, come on, don’t be like that, I won’t make you go to clubs. Well, maybe one or two, when in Rome and all that. Hey, maybe you can finally see some voguing and an honest to god Ball, and decide you hate it for yourself. You’ll definitely hate it …”
The dawn approaches, creeping through the dust and grime in the window, clawing back the night. Sirius rambles on, eyes drooping but determined to keep talking so Remus can hear his voice. He's rewarded with ear twitches and blinks, and once, even the slightest tail wag before Remus glowers at it and looks away. As the room gets brighter, the dark shape under the desk shifts uneasily.
Sirius doesn't stop talking but he starts to shuffle away, seeing the shuddering return, the pull of the moon receding.
He turns away when the whining starts in earnest, and when it turns into pained yelps he finally stops his rambling to bite his lip. It's worse this close. The screams, the bones breaking, the agony of it all turns his stomach so abruptly he has to shut his eyes tightly and focus on not retching.
As soon as the screams stop he spins around. And there he is. Shaking, bloodied, hurting, but alive.
Sirius crawls to his side, trembling hands reaching for him, desperate to feel him solid and real under his fingertips. He scoops him into his lap, brushing brown hair from his forehead tenderly, unable to stop himself from touching, running fingers along the cheeks, down his neck, across the jaw. He almost sobs looking at the shiny red welts all over the pale skin where the silver touched, and he carefully holds a bloodied hand, wincing at the teeth marks on the wrist. Presses a kiss to the palm, shutting his eyes tight to feel Remus warm and alive against his lips. When he opens them again, he’s looking at honey brown. A feeble ray of sunlight has fallen across his face, as if it were made just to illuminate those eyes, and everything else falls away. Rich and deep, there’s a wealth of emotions buried there, but they soften to see him. Always. Even when he doesn’t deserve it.
“Hey, you”, Sirius smiles shakily, throat tight and eyes prickling.
Remus tries to curl in on himself, face shuttering as the events of the night crowd in on him, but Sirius is ready for it. He hunches over and holds Remus to his chest tightly, feels the weight of him in his arms.
“It’s alright, we’re fine”, Sirius babbles as he feels hands grip his shirt frantically, desperately, neither trying to push him away or pull him closer, “I’m here. I’m here.”
He realises with a jolt that the shaking in Remus’ shoulders is getting worse. He’s crying. No, he’s sobbing . Remus presses his face tight into his chest like he’s trying to bury his tears there, like he can crawl between Sirius’ ribs and be held in the cradle of his sternum. He wishes he could open his ribcage and keep him there, held against his heart where nothing could touch him, and nothing would hurt. Sirius holds him tighter, dropping his head to bury his nose in the soft hair that smells of sweat and home.
Hearing Remus fall to pieces breaks something in him. It’s worse than listening to the transformation, the snapping of bones, nothing compared to the way his breaths come in gasps, and it’s pain, it’s more pain, when will Remus ever not be in pain? He has to wrestle Remus to come up for air, because he’s so determined to hide his face, but Sirius can’t hear it anymore without doing something. He knows Remus’ mind is full of guilt and shame and horror, and he can’t bear the idea of him flogging himself over what happened, or what nearly happened.
Remus frowns to have his face exposed, nose red, eyes streaming, face a picture of torment. Sirius kisses every part he can reach. It’s not enough to say how he feels, but a little more tension eases from Remus’ face with each one, and that’s enough for now. When he presses their lips together Remus grips the back of his head tightly, holding him there. And he stays, flooded with relief to feel this again, that Remus is asking for this comfort and not pushing him away like he used to.
He holds him for what feels like hours. His knees ache from the hard floor and Remus is heavy in his tired arms, but not even death himself could pull Remus from him now. In the end, it’s Remus himself who pulls away, and Sirius lets him go, hands still stroking his back and entwining their fingers together.
He can feel the apology coming. He can see the guilt welling up inside of Remus like molten lava threatening to spill over and burn him from the inside out. He won’t let it.
“It wasn’t your fault”, he croaks as firmly as he can with his voice still shaking, “I know what you’re thinking, but if you’ve ever trusted me, you’ll believe it. It’s not your fault, I don’t blame you and they don’t either.”
Remus’ eyelashes clump together wetly as he looks down at their hands intertwined, and it shouldn’t be so beautiful. But he is, of course. Bloodied, bruised, tear tracks on his dirty cheeks. No less beautiful for the evidence of his strength.
"I almost-", Remus trails off hoarsely, his voice a scrape of gravel. He can't finish the sentence, face crumpling as he shakes his head.
"But you didn't", Sirius insists desperately, "You came back. You came back to me."
Sirius belatedly realises that there are goosebumps breaking out over Remus' naked body and the shaking is no longer from trying to suppress tears. He hastily removes his jacket and drapes it over his shoulders. Remus clutches it around himself, fingers worrying at the leather, and he looks down at it as if it's a question, wondering, thoughtful.
Sirius doesn't get to find out what he's thinking because James seems to have read his mind through any distance between them, tapping softly at the door.
He's holding out Remus' clothes and his face is no longer ashy, but it's still pinched in an unfamiliar way that his face shouldn't be, not James, who's an unending beam of sunlight. Lily peers around his shoulder and her face crumples at the sight of Remus curled up in the jacket, frown deepening as her eyes flit between all of his injuries.
She's crouching beside them in a second, pulling Remus into a hug. Whatever doubts Remus could have about their friends resenting him or blaming him can't possibly survive the strength of her fierce embrace. Sirius sees it in his face. Guilt slowly sliding into relief and gratitude, and then love, so much love that he almost can't seem to bear it, shutting his eyes tightly against her neck.
The three of them bandage him up together. Lily oversees it, of course, and some semblance of normal returns when she chides James for his poor bandaging skills and Sirius snorts. It's cathartic. Wrapping clean cloth around the scrapes, the bites, the angry looking burns, cleaned and generously covered in ointment. As each one disappears under the white, woven carefully by three pairs of loving hands, Remus starts to emerge from the hunched bundle of raw emotions. He can't argue with this. Not when his friends not only don't blame him, but they're so soft with him, putting him back together, without anyone having to utter a word about it.
He grips the sleeve of James' shirt, frowning, mouth working around something that he can't say. James just gently claps him on the shoulder, a sad smile on his face, and returns to fixing the wrappings around his ankle.
When they walk out of the Shrieking Shack, Remus supported between Sirius and James, the sun is shining, oblivious to the darkness of the night that's passed. Dew sparkles in the grass, birds chatter at each other, and the grounds of the hospital are crumbling and peaceful.
It's a good place for forever to start.
—------
Sirius jolts awake as he's jerked forward against his seatbelt. He blinks dopily, rudely awakened and still half asleep.
His gaze falls on Remus, who sits next to him in the back-seat of James' car, his lopsided grin exactly where it belongs, and eyes sparkling with amusement.
Three weeks after the eventful full moon, the burns and bites have almost faded completely, although they've left fresh scars. Remus seems less bothered to see them than Sirius expected. In truth, he'd expected a lot more agonising over what happened but maybe it's the added reassurances of James and Lily that ease his worries. Whatever it is, Remus seems relatively at peace with what transpired. As long as it doesn't happen again . The last were emphasised most intensely to Sirius, and he whole heartedly agreed. He still has nightmares about running down neverending dark corridors, snarling at his heels, and probably will for the rest of his life, he thinks.
He wonders if it was something he said that soothed Remus' conscience over what happened. He doesn't ask.
"Wazgoin on?" He mumbles, straightening in his seat, blinking the rest of the sleep out of his eyes.
"Prepare yourself", Lily mutters from the front seat.
"Mum's going to go spare", James adds gleefully, glancing at Remus in the rear view mirror.
Sirius sits up ramrod straight. They're here already?
The Potters' lake house looms in front of them, double storey and in the style of a wooden cabin, surrounded by towering trees bursting greens and yellow with summer. It seems to breathe life, as if it's been waiting for him to return all these years, achingly familiar and filled to the brim with memories of teenage voices and screams of laughter in the sun. A thrill of childlike excitement spills into his stomach like a shot of espresso. He shoots forward and wraps arms around James' neck and face.
"Bags the big room, short stack", he hisses around the headrest as James struggles and slaps at his arms.
"As if!"
Lily chimes in crossly, but her eyes are bright with laughter, "Children! I'm not putting up with this for three days straight. I will throttle you both."
James reaches back and pulls Sirius' hair hard. He squawks, but something gently tugs him back into his seat and he relinquishes his hold on James and goes without further fuss, because it's Remus, and he's so happy to have him here that squabbles with James can wait.
It's easy to ignore James' grumbles because Remus' fingers are sliding between his, and does anything else matter, really?
The answer is yes - getting to the bedroom with the double doors overlooking the lake before James does trumps everything.
He almost launches himself out of the car to race him to it, suddenly reverted nine years back to his sixteen year old self. But the nervous look on Remus' face stops him. Sirius squeezes his hand.
There's nothing to be nervous about. Mrs Potter had shrieked happily when Sirius haltingly asked to bring Remus to the biannual family summer holiday. It's a big step, but his adoptive parents are thrilled to meet him and he has no doubt that they'll adore him. He's smart and witty, endlessly patient and kind, and the Potters have a habit of picking up lovable strays to call their own.
Remus shoots him a tight smile and he beams back confidently. They've earned this small bite of happiness and he's going to savour it.
Euphemia and Fleamont Potter meet them at the door, arms wide and welcoming, and smiles warm.
Sirius stands back while they clutch tightly at Lily and James, and he sneaks a hand down to grip Remus' pinky. Remus looks around with a pleasant smile on his face but his other hand hasn't left his pocket, where Sirius knows it's curled tightly in a fist. He slides his hand around his back and grips his shoulder tightly.
"You must be Remus", Euphemia beams, relinquishing her hold on her son to hold arms out to Remus, "I'm so happy you could come. We've been dying to meet you."
She's about Lily's height so her face ends up pressed against Remus' chest and he awkwardly wraps his long arms around her shoulders.
"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs Potter."
"Mia, love. And this is Fleamont, although you can call him Monty."
She stands back and Mr Potter pulls Remus forward by the hand he held out to shake, wrapping him in a tight hug instead, as he insists warmly, "Everyone does."
Sirius grins widely as Remus quickly finds out where James gets his knack for overwhelming physical affection. The Potters are huggers and so touchy feely that it took Sirius years to get used to, eventually learning to embrace it and stop stiffening when they reached for him. He probably wouldn't like being touched at all if it wasn't for all the times Euphemia found him in the kitchen at 2am when he couldn't sleep, and wrapped arms around him gently from behind, chatting softly in his ear. They never spoke of it, as no one ever speaks of things that occur in the deepest parts of night, like it's a secret, to exist only in those small hours. But it helped, to let go when no one else was awake to see or know, to relax into her arms and let her hold him, slowly unravelling the knot that tied itself in his stomach the day his biological mother started hurting him. She'd been a teacher before retiring early - who better to teach him that love could be gentle?
Remus takes to it better than Sirius did, in his agreeable way in which he moulds and bends to every situation, soft and malleable where Sirius is brittle. He's a little stiff in Fleamont's hold, but he smiles easily and the Potters return it earnestly.
Euphemia turns to Sirius and her smile flickers for the briefest moment before she wraps arms around him.
"You're alright, aren't you, love?" He feels the vibrations in his chest, even though her words are quiet, only loud enough for him to hear. She feels small in his arms when he wraps them around her. Too small - she used to seem like a titan to him, in her sheer presence if not physical stature. But he's grown and she hasn't, and she seems more frail than he remembers.
"Always", he reassures her with a bright grin.
She relinquishes him and turns to pull Remus further into the home, leaving Sirius to receive a bone crushing hug from Fleamont, who he grips back almost as hard.
Mrs Potter (he's never gotten used to thinking of her as Mia), tells them to settle in while she puts the kettle on. They traipse up the stairs, dragging their bags, and Sirius and James get into it again, shoving and elbowing each other out of the way. Remus and Lily pay them no mind as they follow behind, laughing and talking.
James ends up winning the fight for the best room, although he uses underhanded tactics, muttering in Sirius' ear that this is a special weekend and he wants it to be perfect. Sirius remembers what James has planned and tuts in mock disappointment, but allows him the room with a grin and a friendly shove.
The room Sirius and Remus end up in overlooks the forest and that's nothing to complain about. It's spacious and welcoming, with a large four poster bed made of dark wood, and the rest of the furniture matches the rustic style, giving it the feel of a home, although it's seldom occupied. As soon as they cross the threshold, Sirius drags Remus over to the enormous round window to admire the view.
The house is nestled in a sea of green and yellow, Maples and Chestnuts sheltering it from the sun, even the odd Oak that stands out rich and impressive against the backdrop of greenery. It's the sort of place that reminds you how to breathe.
"I had the best summer of my life here." Sirius says quietly, drinking in the sight. It's as if nothing has changed, the forest continues on, immortal and steadfast, growing imperceptible inches in decades while he's aged centuries. It still exists as it does in his memories and it feels right that Remus be here - how can he have a favourite memory that isn't steeped in Remus?
"It's beautiful." Remus murmurs, honey brown eyes soft and wistful. They belong here, Sirius thinks giddily, mirroring the soft glow of the sunlight streaming through the canopy and bringing the rich browns of the forest to life.
Remus turns to face him and Sirius blinks to find himself staring. Honey brown crinkles and Sirius is lost, in awe that he gets to have this, to stare and drink his fill as much as he wants, that something as devastatingly beautiful as the forest belongs to him.
"You're different here." Remus murmurs thoughtfully, reaching up to brush a stray lock of black hair behind his ear. Sirius leans into the touch, gaze unwavering.
"I'm happy", he impresses simply.
It's not that simple - there's so much history buried in these grounds and wooden foundations and himself. He wishes he could explain what it means to have Remus here with him, there's a confession on the tip of his tongue. But he can't compress all of these feelings into words, they're wisps of summer air gone in a second before he has a chance to mould them into tangible sentences. The Potters are waiting and he just wants to enjoy his time with them and Remus. So he settles for happiness and presses their lips together, hoping that it will say the rest. He has a lifetime to search the whole English language for words that could explain how he feels about Remus. For now, happiness is enough.
When they make it down to the dining room, tea is brewed and waiting, and Lily and James are deep in conversation with his parents.
Euphemia sees them coming down the stairs and beckons them to sit, smiling, as James regales them with stories (whinging, more like) of his clerkship at the law firm.
"Still the office shitkicker?" Sirius drawls, dropping into the chair opposite. Remus slides into the chair next to him and their knees bump under the table.
"I went to court the other day", James argues proudly, crunching into a biscuit and spilling crumbs all over the table, "Presented a case to the judge and everything."
Sirius whistles, and James glares, thinking he's taking the piss.
"Nah I mean it, that's actually wicked", Sirius assures him, genuinely impressed, "you're like a proper lawyer. I never have to pay a fine again."
"That's not how it works-"
"You'll have your own cases in no time", Euphemia overrides James firmly, brimming with fierce pride as she looks at her son, "you've achieved so much. You both have."
Sirius doesn't meet her gaze. He's almost certain he's flunked his Honours, distracted by all that's been happening. He doesn't care about not getting the degree - what he's achieved is worth so much more - but he's not quite ready to tell anyone yet.
Her eyes linger on him for a moment too long, like she somehow knows what he's thinking, but then she turns to Lily, all bright smiles, "You too, love. They treating you well at the hospital?"
"It's pandemonium", Lily sighs, and Sirius thinks she's met her perfect match in James - both have such a flair for dramatics. "I'm on the intensive care ward at the moment and my Attending is so rude . But it's getting easier, I'm finding a rhythm."
Fleamont leans closer to ask about the state of the wards - as always, ready to rant about the NHS and funding. Euphemia marches around the table to pour Remus and Sirius their tea, waving away Remus' polite protests.
"I really don't know much about you", she beckons invitingly to Remus, but Sirius hears a touch of reproach in her voice that's aimed at him, "James told us you're doing post graduate literature, but I'm afraid Sirius has kept you quite the mystery."
He glowers across the table as she takes a seat, but she just grins back, playing innocent just as well as her son does. James is rather like her in both personality and looks. They share the same eyes and smile, the same slim face and affable personality that makes it a pleasure to have them talk your ear off. She also shares his love for mischief, although she plays at being strict, and he braces himself for some prodding and poking into his love life.
"Has he?" Remus replies lightly, sipping his tea, "I suppose he's not used to actually talking to his dates. He might just be a little out of his depth, I wouldn't hold it against him."
She blinks owlishly. Then laughter bursts from her lips like a waterfall, crashing and deafening, and Sirius splutters.
"Oh Sirius, you have to keep this one", she chortles, dark brown eyes bright as she gazes in wonder at Remus. Someone else who will tease Sirius with her - what a treat. Sirius huffs, but Remus' smile is less tense, so he begrudgingly allows him this victory.
"I was going to already." He gripes, tapping restlessly on the table.
She cocks her head slightly and her grin turns devilish - a perfect imitation of James when he's being a little shit.
"You know, he's always been so combative", she muses humorously, "The tantrums and strops I had to deal with when he was a teenager - I'm glad he's met someone who can hold his own."
Remus' eyes twinkle. "Oh, the tantrums live on."
"Does he still stomp his feet when he doesn't get his way?"
" Ma -"
"Only once. Although to be fair, he was hungry at the time."
"I'm right here ."
"Oh come on, love", Euphemia waves away his grumbled protests, "I'm just having some fun. He's wonderful , as sharp as Lily. I always worried you'd find yourself an airhead who'd let you get away with anything. You've chosen well."
Remus tips his head in thanks and he's a picture of polite innocence - nevermind that he's a conniving little shit .
"I'm glad I never let you meet anyone else", Sirius grumbles sourly, "You always have so much to say - you and James. Living with you two was like living with a pair of terriers, yap yap yap. I don't know how Lily does it."
"Someone has to provide the personality", she preens as if it's a compliment, examining her perfectly manicured nails, "we can't all be mysterious and brooding."
Remus chortles into his cup and Sirius glares. A hand finds his knee under the table and squeezes. He feels his glare soften immediately, despite himself.
"He's plenty personality for me. Not sure I could handle more, truthfully."
The mischief in Euphemia's smile fades and her eyes soften.
"He's a good egg", she states fondly, reaching forward to take Sirius' hand, absently turning it over to examine his palm, "You always were. I'm proud of who you've become."
He should be used to it now, the casual way she drops compliments and heartfelt praise as casually as the Maple trees drop their leaves on the ground in autumn. It still stutters his thoughts to a halt.
The hand on his knee squeezes again and he finds his breath.
"Thanks, Ma", he mutters, blinking at his hand held in hers, so much smaller and softer. Gentle, always gentle.
She smiles warmly and turns her attention back to Remus, expression snapping back to inquisitive, almost interrogative.
"So, is that a Welsh accent I hear? It's very subtle, did you move when you were young?"
Sirius sips his tea and bounces between the conversations, but all the while the hand never leaves his knee and warmth creeps through his veins from the touch.
—----
They talk late into the afternoon and eventually relocate to the table on the back porch, where summer hums and breathes around them, filling their noses and lungs.
Remus chats easily with both parents and something warm and soft settles into the bottom of Sirius' stomach as he watches the tension bleed from Remus' shoulders and hands.
His hand finds Remus' knee under the table and an inexplicable wave of feeling hits him.
He spends a few minutes tangling with the confusing avalanche of emotions, hardly listening to Remus and James' conversation with Fleamont about politics.
It's a feeling of belonging, he decides after parsing through the whirl of intangible feelings. Seeing Remus slip so easily into the dynamic of his family solidifies the feeling of belonging he already felt with him. There's something permanent and binding about it, and there's no resistance, no hesitation from Remus or from within himself. It feels right.
He breathes deeply. The heady scent of earth and wood fills his nose. It's only right that it happens here - this discovery of the final puzzle piece. They can plant their roots here in the rich soil between these trees where his happiest memories already live, kept alive and well by the immutable forest. He tenderly buries this day in his memories - another summer where everything is good and he knows happiness.
James rises to his feet after a while longer, asking Lily if she wants to stretch her legs. She frowns at being interrupted from her conversation with Euphemia, but he insists with such earnest, big brown eyes that she relents. Sirius watches them wander down into the thick of the trees together and grins, knowing exactly what James is up to.
Fleamont also stands, stretching his back with a groan.
"Alright, boys. Who's for some whiskey?" He offers with a sly grin, "I've got some Berken's that'll blow your socks off."
"Really, Monty, it's not even four o'clock." Euphemia tuts, pursing her lips at him.
"I'm on holiday." He protests, spreading his arms, "Don't worry, I'll bring you your wine."
She splutters as he cheekily pinches her side on his way past and a flush crawls up her neck. Sirius barks laughter to see her lose her composure.
"Shush you", she points at him, getting to her feet and adjusting her blouse, "I-I should go help him with the glasses."
She pats her pristine hair and dabs at her lipstick as she quickly follows her husband, and Sirius snorts.
"You know, I don't think they're coming back." Remus comments lightly and Sirius laughs, stretching an arm over the back of his chair.
"Promise me we'll still be that crazy about each other when we're a hundred years old?" He demands, eyes snagging on a fresh pink scar on the tip of Remus' ear.
Remus chuckles, tilting his head back to blink lazily at the waving leaves above them. The complete lack of tension or alertness is foreign - Sirius fidgets, unable to remember ever seeing Remus so relaxed.
"I don't know about a hundred. But at least until we're eighty." Remus assures him softly. He pauses, swallowing hard, his tone fighting for mild, "It's strange - I've never let myself think that far ahead before. Never thought I'd live that long."
Something hooks in Sirius' chest, the pleasant melody that's been thrumming in his ribcage trailing off at the unexpected stab of pain. But then Remus is smiling and he can breathe again.
"You did that", he wonders dreamily, still talking to the sky, "You did that for me. I wish I could tell the world. You deserve the world to know how incredible you are, how good you are. I know you don't think of yourself as good, but you are. The best person I know."
Warmth floods him but it's not the kind that can be tempered by the cool breeze. His heart thumps manically in his chest and forever stretches before him. He swoops forward and kisses Remus on the cheek, feeling the skin move under his lips as Remus smiles wider. Sirius doesn't pull back straight away, lingering, considering.
"You think anyone'll notice if we go upstairs for ten?" He murmurs in a rush.
Remus laughs in surprise, deep and throaty. "Turned on by compliments, are we?"
"No - well, maybe", Sirius admits, tugging at Remus' hand, "I just need to feel you, all of you. Right now."
Remus turns eyes on him and all traces of laziness have vanished from his face.
"Ten minutes."
—----
When they make their way back outside the sun has started to sink, casting a delicious orange glow on the porch, and Lily and James have returned, both beaming. They cling to each other giddily as Euphemia sniffles on Fleamont's shoulder while he gently pats her back.
Sirius laughs at the startled look on Remus' face, still flushed and rosy and devastatingly lovely.
He pulls him towards the group and James holds out his and Lily's entwined hands for them to see.
The ring captures the sunlight and magnifies it tenfold, shimmering with every movement, starlight dancing, a whole universe condensed into one stone.
Sirius throws himself at them with a bark of laughter, overjoyed, and they stumble back together under his weight, all laughing and smiles.
"Watch yourself", James chortles around the grin that splits his face ear to ear, and he holds onto Sirius tighter than ever before.
"Did he get down on one knee and all? The works? He cried , didn't he?" Sirius crows, turning to Lily gleefully.
She rolls her eyes, prickly, even when her face is a picture of delight, "That's private. Mind your business."
"He fucking did." Sirius leers.
"It's a big deal!" James admits with a flush, stepping back, "I'm not afraid of my emotions. I bloody bawled."
Lily sidesteps Sirius with a pitchy laugh and buries herself in Remus' chest. She almost vanishes in the jumper as he wraps arms around her, beaming and rosy cheeked.
"You're going to be a Potter", he laughs, happiness sweetening his voice. A muffled shriek comes from somewhere around his chest and he presses, "Doctor Potter - it's quite catchy."
" Doctor Potter!" Euphemia exclaims tearfully, clutching her chest and shaking her head into Fleamont's shoulder.
"Alright, Mum, settle." James chuckles, tutting, although he looks pleased all the same.
Fleamont locks eyes with Sirius and sighs, gently stroking her hair, although he's still beaming. He knew about the proposal - James told Sirius furtively that he'd gone to his father to ask for money for the 'wedding', wisely leaving his mother out of it. Judging by her reaction, she'd never have been able to contain her excitement.
"Our boys are so grown. " She wails, " It feels like just yesterday I was picking them up from football practice and they got mud all through the car and got into a fight in the back seat over who scored a better goal. And now Sirius has a lovely boyfriend and Jamie's getting married !"
Fleamont nods sympathetically and murmurs soothingly in her ear, and Sirius and James exchange identical exasperated glances.
"Steady on, woman." Sirius mutters under his breath, pointedly not looking at Remus.
Fleamont's voice rises over the sound of his wife's sniffling and Remus and Lily's laughing - Sirius glances over to see him pretending to be blinded by the ring and her throwing her head back to laugh, face as red as her hair.
"Potters, soon to be Potters, and Potters in every way but name", he proclaims and Sirius cheers at the last, "I think this calls for a celebration. Odgen's best Malt Scotch, older than all you wee ones, some music, and decent food."
They cheer as one, and James crows, "Dirty pint!", which is immediately met with noises of disdain from Remus and Lily, and a shout of glee from Sirius.
The evening trickles into night and the summer air settles heavy and warm on their skin. Crickets chirp, beetles buzz, leaves rustle overhead and on the forest floor, and they're all treated to at least one bug landing in their drinks. It's the unmistakable feeling of summer.
Fleamont lights up the grill, gleefully rubbing his hands together and telling anyone who'll listen that he's brought enough porterhouse and ribeye to feed them for days. James and Remus meander down to the cellar to bring up the drinks requested by Fleamont, and Sirius is put in charge of the music. He wrinkles his nose at the collection - the Potters have an eclectic mix of soft rock and decidedly too much ABBA and Earth, Wind and Fire, which Euphemia is responsible for. It's not to his taste but he selects an Earth Wind and Fire album, knowing that after a few glasses of wine, Euphemia will pull Fleamont into a dance and his face will flush spectacularly, right up to his ears in the way it always does when he finds himself the centre of attention.
The exquisite smell of meat cooking soon fills the air and Sirius and James take turns distracting the cook with innocent conversation to sneak bits of meat off the grill behind his back. It's a decade old hustle and although Fleamont has never admitted that he's caught on, he smiles fondly down at the grill when he adds more food to the missing spaces.
Wine and whiskey flow freely and soon the music is almost drowned out by laughter and shouts as Lily entertains them with horrifying stories of working at the hospital, doing her best to get the biggest reaction out of James, who retches and squirms. Another tradition - but poking at James' squeamishness has gotten so much more fun with her around.
Soon, empty wine bottles litter the table among dirty plates, and they settle back in their chairs, full and content up to their eyeballs, grinning lazily, and the conversations dip in and out, interspersed by comfortable silence.
Sirius' legs are hooked over Remus' knees so he can recline in an elegant sprawl across the deck chair and a hand holds his leg in place, warm through his jeans and grounding in a way that only adds to his pleasant buzz.
Remus chats idly to Fleamont about some foreign policy and Sirius drifts in and out, thinking only of the earthy smell of the forest as the heat rises from the soil after the warm day, and the hand on his leg, how the thumb strokes slow circles against the denim. Even when steeped in conversation, parts of Remus are reserved only for him, dedicated to thinking of him, touching him, devoted even when the rest of Remus is elsewhere. Sirius is an absent party, floating contentedly between consciousness and dozing, but always, he's present in Remus' mind, and Remus has no hesitation in displaying it, his touch a brand through the fabric.
Mine. For all to see.
Sirius smiles giddily up at the stars. They blanket the green canopy overhead, innumerous and clustering this far in the country. His eyes automatically seek out the dog star, as he always has as far back as he can remember. Then flicker to the moon, where it hangs just over half full, a permanent reminder. Next week Remus will transform again and it will be better. He'll go through it by himself but the raging defiance in Sirius has calmed - Remus will keep his mind and come to no harm. He's certain of it.
The moon will wane again and Sirius will tell him of the letter he got from his late Uncle's solicitor. An official looking letter on crisp paper, bringing with it hope. His trust fund will become available in a few weeks. In a few weeks he'll be a free man, and the time lost to his Honours won't matter. Not that it ever did, he thinks. Remus was right when he'd said his degree was worth it for the sake of him doing it, all those months ago in the university tavern - if he had never taken up his project which he grew to resent so much, he never would have met Remus, never fallen in love with him, never helped him. It’s unthinkable. Even though he won't get that piece of paper that denotes his year of study, he's got Remus instead. He's worth more than anything Sirius can fathom.
He shifts and the hand on his leg squeezes once, twice, and he knows it's assuring him: We'll go to bed soon, love, I know you're tired .
He smiles up at the moon, hanging in the same sky as his namesake. The stars should be envious, he thinks lazily, to look down at them on this summer night, that's a blink of an eye in the lifetime of a star.
How explosive this love is compared to a mere galaxy of supernovas.
How gentle, soft like starlight.