Of Memories and Milk Thievery

“Da, why do we have so much milk?”

“Hm?”

Teddy stalked into the living room, holding two bottles of milk in his hands. “You stole his milk, didn’t you?”

Remus frowned and peered over his glasses, closing the lid of his laptop slightly. It wasn’t even 4pm - Teddy had just got home from school. He was still in his school uniform, though it was slightly ruffled. He was looking at his father like he was going to murder someone.

“No!”

“Yes, you did,” Teddy laughed. He was more than used to his parents’ antics by now, but usually they did shit that made sense. This did not, by any stretch of any imagination (and Teddy has a fuckin’ big one, if he doesn’t say so himself) make any sense. “You don’t even drink milk!”

“I do drink milk,” Remus said primly, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from curling up at his son’s exasperation and failing miserably.

“You drink almond milk.”

“Is that not…?” Remus joked, pushing his glasses up and pretending to squint at the bottles of what was very clearly cows milk. “Oh, well. Must be the old age.”

“When-- why--” Teddy spluttered. He cut himself off with a deep breath - questioning the act itself got him nowhere. He knew it was the motive that would get his father talking. “What did he do, now?” he asked, and Remus sat up and harrumphed.

“Your father can’t park, you know,” he said, typing something. “Never could. Absolutely awful driver.” 

Teddy put the milk on the coffee table and crossed his arms, waiting. Remus sighed. 

“He parked in the space directly beside me at Tesco and drove right against the line, so that I couldn’t get back into the driver's side. I had to climb over the passenger seat.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “The horror.”

“It was incredibly inconvenient, I’ll have you know,” Remus said.

“So you stole his milk.”

“I borrowed it.”

“So you’re going to give it back?”

Remus took a sip from the mug of tea (with almond milk) that had been residing on the coaster, smacked his lips, and said, with a ridiculous air of casuality for a man who had oh so recently delved into thievery: “Nope.”

Teddy groaned, loud and exaggerated.

“What are we supposed to do with all this milk?” he said. “He paid for that, Da.”

“He can buy more.”

“It’s gonna go to waste.”

“No it won't, not if you eat...” Remus trailed off, holding up one, pausatory finger before clicking a few times and typing furiously. “... eight bowls of cereal in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Eight!”

“You like cereal, don’t you?” Remus said, chuckling at Teddy’s laughter from across the room. “I’ll put it in a thermos for school so it stays cold.”

“I’m not eating eight bowls of cereal,” Teddy said indignantly. “And I’m not fucking drinking them either!”

“Language.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, leaning over and picking up the two bottles again. He held them up threateningly. “I’m giving these back to him tomorrow.”

“At least have one bowl!” Remus yelled, laughing, but Teddy was already out the door.

He put the milk back in the fridge to keep it chilled, remembering why he had been in there in the first place, and decided on an easy peanut butter sandwich for a snack. Too lazy to cut it, he ran in twos up the stairs to his room, shutting the door while taking a bite out of the sandwich simultaneously (don’t ever say that he’s not good at multitasking) and calling Harry instantly, flopping onto his bed with a flair of drama that he definitely got from his milk-less father rather than his criminal one.

Harry answered pretty much instantly, and Teddy wasted absolutely no time on greetings, getting straight to the point.

“He stole his milk.”

The line was quiet for a long, long moment, and then Harry burst into raucous, uncontrollable laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Teddy said, flopping onto his back and laughing too. Harry wheezed a little.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know...” he said, letting out a few strangled hoots of laughter before exhaling slowly and shakily. “Oh my god.”

“I know. Oh my god.”

“He stole it from his house?”

“Nah,” Teddy said. “Dad gets it delivered to his doorstep by the milkman. He gets eggs delivered too – you know what, I’ve actually just now fucking remembered that. Why didn’t he take the eggs, Harry? He literally doesn’t drink milk!”

This set Harry off again, and this time, Teddy laughed with him. He ran his hands through his faded blue hair and stared up at the ceiling, listening to Harry laugh beside him on speaker.

“Dad wants to know what Sirius did this time,” Harry asked after a moment, and Teddy barked with laughter, pushing himself up and flipping over to talk directly into the phone. “You’re on speaker.”

“Apparently,” he said, “Dad saw his car at Tesco, so he parked directly next to it and cut it so close that Da couldn’t physically get in the door. He had to climb over the passenger seat.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then the low tone of one Uncle James Potter (or, Mr. Potter to Teddy third period on Wednesdays and fifth on Fridays) came booming through the phone.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

And there was the laughter again.

“I know!” Teddy said. Three voices blended into a staticky mess through the line and Teddy’s eyes flickered around his room while he focused on listening - he could hear his Aunt Lily’s feminine voice, though it was faded, as if she was across the room. “Hi Auntie Lily!”

He heard distinct shuffling, and then her voice was booming right out of the phone.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said, and Teddy smiled inadvertently. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this nonsense-- honestly, James, stop encouraging it!” He heard his Uncle burst into laughter again. “It’s awful and petty and you shouldn’t have to mediate, darling.”

Teddy laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t really have to mediate. It’s funny, most of the time, when there’s no proper harm done.”

Lily laughed breathily. “Oh, I know, but it is quite silly. I wish they would just get over it.”

Teddy took a bite of his sandwich and hummed in agreement. In the background, he heard two similar male voices burst into laughter again.

“What?” he said, muffled by his food. “What is it?”

“Oh--” Lily moaned, and he heard distinct footsteps. “James Potter don’t you dare give him ideas--”

The line cut off.

Teddy laughed out loud, to himself, alone in his room, and wondered what it had been this time. Where his uncle was responsible when he needed to be, and was an amazing dad to Harry, he definitely had a bit of a prankster side. He shared that with Teddy’s dad. He couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of shit he had come up with to suggest to Sirius - the last time he had suggested something, Teddy had woken up at his Da’s and looked outside to find the cherry blossom tree in their garden had been completely teepee-d. Teddy had thought that had only happened in movies, and had had to survive on one singular roll of toilet paper that weekend at his Dad’s.

He loved his parents. He really did. Where the divorce had been messy and only slightly traumatising for Teddy at the small age of twelve years old, and where they seemingly couldn’t stand each other, they always managed to make it water under the temporary bridge when it came to Teddy and what he needed. They never talked proper shit about the other, and had an icy cold, but communicative relationship when it came to things like his studies and his well being. The custody battle had been difficult, especially with the nature of their jobs and working out the best dates for him to be back and forth that wouldn’t fuck up Teddy’s life more than it already was. Luckily for them, Remus hadn’t wanted to go far – he had had a steady job as an English teacher at Teddy’s highschool since before he even went there, and liked the small, comfortable town that they lived in about as much as the next person. Sirius, in turn, was a manager at a nice little bar about a ten minutes car ride away from his house. He worked weekdays as the bartender crossed waiter, and so it had made sense that Teddy would stay with Remus Monday night through Friday night, and Sirius Friday night through Monday morning - so he would, thus, have the entire weekend to make up for the extra day that Remus had.

Teddy didn’t know if that was what he actually thought. He just presumed; his parents were petty enough that he had somehow become attuned to their way of thinking.

It was ridiculous, in hindsight, the stupid things they did to each other. It was pure pettiness. They never left well enough alone, either of them. Teddy thanked every possible deity out there every day that he had not inherited either of their stubbornness, because if he were to reach thirty-eight and spend his nights throwing toilet paper over an unsuspecting tree owned by his ex husband and his days partaking in milk-thievery, he might just throw himself off a cliff.

It wasn’t harmful, was the thing. Teddy actually found it pretty funny - and god knows Harry did too. His parents had been highschool sweethearts - both of their parents, actually, but Harry’s actually still liked each other - and both pairs had been young parents to only the one boy. It seemed perfect, really, that he would not only consider Harry a cousin, but a brother. They were almost a year apart - ten months, actually, not that he was keeping count. Teddy was just sixteen - his birthday had only been two weeks ago, and had been the first time in a year that his parents had been in the same place (the last time, of course, being the birthday before). Harry was, in turn, turning seventeen in July. Being a year older than Teddy, he had finished his GCSEs last year and stayed on at the school’s sixth form to do his A-Levels, so nothing had changed, really, except (to Teddy’s chagrin) he had a special little Year 12/13 seating area on a balcony above the canteen that Teddy, being a lowly Year 11, was not allowed to sit at. (He wasn't bitter.)

Regardless, Teddy and Harry had grown up together - their parents had been inseparable, all four of them. The divorce, he supposed, had been hard for all parties. James and Lily had stayed friends with his dad’s, of course. James was Remus’ co-worker at the school, and Lily was around for tea at least twice a week; while, in turn, James was Sirius’ brother in everything but blood. That “uncle” term was no joke. And Sirius doted on Lily like no-one else except perhaps his son. But they would never mention one to the other. Sirius was “your father” in the presence of Remus, and “Mr. Lupin” in the presence of Sirius, and that was just how it was.

No, the terrorising was simply divorcee on divorcee crime. Teddy didn’t understand it, really, and he thought it best not to try. His parents were too stubborn and prideful to ever do anything less than retaliate for what the other did first, and that was why it would never end unless one of them moved away. Teddy had grown used to their antics, but sometimes he really felt like they were the children instead of him.

Harry texted him apologising for the abrupt end to the call, and promised to call him back later. Teddy shot him back a text telling him it was fine, ate the last few bites of his peanut butter sandwich, and swiped onto his text chain with his dad.

teddy: are you home yet

Dad: Yeah

May you please ask Mr Lupin if I can have my milk back? X

teddy: 😭😭😭  yes I was gonna give u it tomorrow

Dad: 👍  cheers kid

See you tomo. X

Oh btw Pizza Hut or Bella Italia take your pick 

I have vouchers 🥵

Teddy laughed to himself, told him to never, ever use that emoji ever again; and picked Pizza Hut, obviously. 

***

So, Teddy may have underestimated just how much his dad cared about his goddamn milk.

Sirius had Teddy for the weekend, as he always did, and, as always, it was fun. Due to Sirius’ perpetual “cool dad” perspective on life and the fact that he didn’t work at all at the weekends, he always had fun things to do. Of course, Teddy wasn’t always available to do them - his weekends recently were usually packed with insane GCSE revision, but he was doing quite well, and Sirius had convinced him to give it a rest for two days, lest he burn himself out; thus, Pizza Hut on Friday night, out to the pier on Saturday with James, Harry and Lily. The town that they lived in was only about half an hour's drive down to the beach - they were pebble beaches, but the coast regardless. Sirius hated getting sand between his toes, so it was a win-win for him - win in that regard, and in the way Teddy enjoyed it there, too. Sirius kept up his facade as cool dad (not even really a facade - the motorbike and the leather jacket had not outgrown him yet, and would not if he had anything to say about it) but he loved his son more than anything, and would do anything for him.

Except, apparently, stop terrorising the dude who raised the other 50% of him. But, you know, that was out of Teddy’s hands.

What wasn’t out of Teddy’s hands were tomatoes.

“Dad?” he called, standing at the fridge with two, huge tomatoes in his hand. Sirius walked in, still in his nightclothes and a jumper.

Teddy turned, and his face was mortified.

“Dad, please, please, please do not tell me these are what I think they are,” Teddy said carefully, and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“They’re tomatoes.”

“Yeah,” Teddy said. He was starting to feel a tad hysterical. “Yes, they’re tomatoes. And where did they come from, Dad?”

“They came in a pack of four from Tesco,” Sirius said, shrugging. He moved to the cupboard and pulled out some cereal. Teddy felt like he was going to explode. “They come in that red net packaging, you know. Reduced to three quid each."

“No,” Teddy said, putting the tomatoes on the side. “These are from Tesco.” He pulled out the packaging that Sirius had, in fact, just described. He placed them on the side and turned back to the fridge, and really groaned trying to pull something out.

He turned, and he was holding a huge, cardboard tray. It took up the entire lowest shelf of Sirius’ fridge, and it was filled - filled - with tomatoes.

Sirius munched on his cereal dry.

“Fancy some tomato pasta?” he said, and Teddy lost it.

“You picked all of his tomatoes?!” he almost yelled, and he turned and Sirius straightened, realising that he was, actually, rather angry. “Why-- when--”

See, the thing was, that Sirius Black, cool dad extraordinaire, would happily recount the tale of how he snuck out of his house at 3am last night, leaving his teenage son sleeping momentarily to go and climb over the fence of his ex-husband’s back garden to pick every single one of his ripe tomato plants. It was funny as fuck. Remus had a huge garden - it was one of his favourite things to do, since all the way back when they were together - so it wasn’t like Sirius was making a dent in it? He had left the Courgettes, and the Broad Beans, and the underground Carrot and Potato plants. But the Tomatoes had been right there. If Remus was going to thieve from him, Sirius was going to thieve right back.

Teddy, however, looked slightly aghast, and so he thought that perhaps he would save the triumph he felt to share with James, who was the only person he trusted to be impartial with the dramatic affairs between his two stupid best friends.

He had to say something, though.

“Last night,” he said, as dismissively as he could. “He’s got a million plants, he’s not going to miss them.”

“You may as well have just declared war. You know how he feels about his tomatoes.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have stolen my milk, then!” Sirius said.

“God,” Teddy groaned, putting the box down on the island. The kitchen was open and connected to the hallway; he eyed the front door, as if his father was going to burst through with a machete and cut his other father’s head off. He wouldn’t put it past him. “You didn’t even leave one?”

Sirius paused, and the corner of his lip quirked up. “I left the mouldy ones.”

“Godddd,” Teddy groaned again, letting his face drop into his hands, but Sirius could see the smile from between his fingers. It was absolutely absurd. His entire life was absolutely absurd. “He’s going to be livid, you know that?”

“I can deal with Remus livid,” Sirius said blithely, and Teddy scoffed.

“No, you absolutely can’t,” he retorted, going to put the tomatoes back in the fridge and get what he wanted in the first place - the fucking milk that had been reluctantly returned to its actual owner. “Is that not why you broke up in the first place?”

“Oi,” Sirius warned, though it had no heat behind it. Teddy knew he could joke about the divorce easier with his Dad rather than his Da - not that Remus didn’t have a sense of humour, Sirius’ was simply just a tad more… self depreciating. He laughed gruffly.

“Too soon?” he said, grinning. He held out a bowl expectantly and Sirius rolled his eyes before turning to grab the cereal box and pouring it in for him.

“No, four years is not too soon,” he said, shaking the last of the cornflakes out. “I could’ve reared 5.33 recurring children in that time. Damn, I need to buy more cereal.”

“How do you get 0.33 recurring of a child?” Teddy asked, bewildered, and Sirius shrugged.

“I could find a way.”

Teddy laughed and pulled open the cutlery drawer to get a fork. Sirius danced around him to nab the milk from where he’d left it - Teddy knew he had simply been too lazy to get it out of the fridge. He scoffed and took a spoonful into his mouth.

“Well,” he said after swallowing. “You actually have one whole child, and you’re going to drive him fucking insane.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” Sirius said, raising an eyebrow, and Teddy took one look at him and burst into laughter.

It was an hour and a half later - Teddy was flicking through channels on the T.V., while Sirius was doing a crossword in the newspaper (yes, Teddy made fun of him every time he did one) wearing the reading glasses that he had only recently had to acquire, after two painfully stubborn years of squinting at books and newspapers and Teddy’s phone when he showed him a meme and trying to convince everyone that his eyesight was fine.

Thirty-eight. Jesus.

Well, he wouldn’t be thirty-eight for long, because it was half an hour later, and there was a knock on the door.

Or, no, more specifically, there was a bang.

Teddy and Sirius looked at each other for a long, long moment.

“I hope you enjoyed thirty-eight,” Teddy said, as he got up and bustled past him on the way to the door, “because you’re not making it to thirty-nine.”

“Shut up or I’ll put you up for adoption.”

Teddy barked with surprised laughter, and then flicked the T.V off with the remote and hauled himself up to witness the carnage.

Sirius took a breath, put on his sweetest smile, and opened the door to his lovely ex-husband who looked about 3 seconds away from turning into a big green monster and saving New York from Aliens with Iron Man.

“Hello, Remus,” he said. “How nice of you to drop in.” 

He was dressed casually; a navy blue jumper over light blue jeans, paired with the Vans that Lily had bought him for Christmas two years ago, after reprimanding him for the fact that, quite literally, all of his shoes had holes in them. 

“You took… my tomatoes,” Remus said through his teeth. Sirius played dumb.

“Your tomatoes? I’m sorry, I don’t recall…”

“Look,” Remus said, looking like he was trying his absolute hardest not to blow, “I’m only here because I knew you wouldn’t be storing them properly and that they’d go off before Ted came back on Monday. So, Sirius. Give them. To me.”

Sirius gaped slightly, and then his lips tugged up into a smirk.

“Oh, for Gods’ sake,” Teddy groaned, and Remus looked at him as if he hadn’t noticed him there before. “I’ll get your bloody tomatoes.”

Teddy stalked off around the corner and out of earshot, and Sirius swung on the balls of his feet, slightly, whistling casually to himself. Remus’ face was stoic.

“So,” Sirius said. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?

“Sirius, please do not speak to me right now,” Remus said, looking up to the sky as if praying for hell to rain down upon him and put him out of his misery. “I will divorce you again.”

“How on God’s green earth could you divorce me again?”

Remus’ eyes flickered back to him and he narrowed them in a horrifically cold glare. “I would find a way.”

Sirius widened his eyes and pursed his lips as if trying not to laugh. He raised his two hands up in surrender. “No more milk thieving, then?”

“No,” Remus said, exhaling slowly. He seemed to regret every word that followed out of his mouth: “I suppose not.”

They both averted their eyes from each other to look as Teddy came hurtling around the corner, huge tray of tomatoes in his hands. He walked up to them and Sirius stood aside.

“Here you go, Da,” he said, passing the tray to Remus, who extended his first smile of the day to his son. 

“Thank you, Ted,” he said, adjusting the tray so that he had a better grip on it. He licked his lips. “Right; I’ll see you Monday, then?”

Teddy nodded, and smiled. Remus smiled back. Sirius took a step closer, to Teddy’s side, and the three of them in such close proximity was… strange, to say the least.

“And--” Remus started, eyes flickering to Sirius; they stood, looking at each other for a moment, and then Remus simply scoffed, shook his head in disbelief, and turned and walked back to his car.

Sirius shut the door.

“Well,” he said, briskly. “I think that went quite well, don’t you?”

Teddy simply gave him a withered look and returned to the T.V.

***

“He took my fucking tomatoes, Lily. My tomatoes.”

Lily hummed, nodding with a sympathetic look on her face, taking a sip of her tea. It was Sunday; 2pm according to the clock on the mantle, and Lily was off work. She was a nurse, and so her hours were far and wide, and rather sporadic, actually, considering the local hospital was severely understaffed but she made the most of her days off, and today she had decided to come pay a little visit, as she hadn’t seen Remus for a good few weeks and was going through withdrawals.

“He knows how I feel about the tomatoes,” Remus said, slightly sullenly. He was sipping a glass of wine. Yeah, it was that bad. “I mean - remember, when we first moved into that place? It took me about four years to even get them to grow. Like, that was low.”

Lily nodded. She had, in fact, reprimanded Sirius for that one when Remus had first told her this morning. Sure, their petty rivalry (could you even call it that?) and intolerance of each other outside of taking care of Teddy was usually nothing more than a tad irritating and a bit of an inconvenience to each other, but, sometimes they went too far, and Sirius with the tomatoes was too far.

He had complained - “He got them back!” he had whined, with a typical Sirius Black eyeroll and deflection of blame, but that hadn’t been the point. It had been straight up mean, ruination of something with the knowledge that the person cared about it, and they had put Teddy in the middle of it, and she wasn’t happy with that. Lily Evans was not the stickler for rules and the strict parent and auntie that everyone seemed to think she was - she just looked like it surrounded by such a group of idiotic men. Like, for heaven's sake, they were approaching forty. Was Lily the only one with the capability to act like it?

She, obviously, felt sympathy for Remus, sitting across from her all forlorn and weepy about his tomatoes, but he wasn’t completely innocent. He had stolen the bloody bastard’s milk. And, before that, he had been the one to knock over his black bin with his car - and it had absolutely not been an accident. Three years ago, after a particularly nasty spat when the divorce was still fresh he had quite literally broken into Sirius’ house and replaced all of his sugar with salt - including the sugar in the bag. Teddy didn’t know about that one. (He would probably laugh, but that wasn’t the point.) He wasn’t innocent either.

“Are they alright, though?” she asked, extending her sympathies. “Were they harvestable?”

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re in the fridge. I think we’re going to be eating tomato pasta for two weeks straight.”

Lily laughed. “You could always invite us over - feed more people. I’m sure James would appreciate a break from cooking. He’s made Chana masala three times this week ‘cause it’s Harry’s favourite."

Remus laughed. “Yeah, I could. I’m free every evening except Tuesday.”

“What are you doing on Tuesday?”

Remus smiled. “I have… a date.”

Lily’s eyebrows raised up into her hair. “Oooh, a date? Who’s the unlucky sod?”

Remus laughed and swotted her. “Hey, be nice. His name’s Fabian. He’s cute - you’d like him, he’s ginger too.”

“Remus, redheads don’t just flock to each other like a hive mind,” she said with an eye roll, but laughed anyway. “Where are you going?”

The question rang through the room, and Remus faltered. It was a very quick falter - he saved it easily, he was a teacher, that’s his job - but Lily noticed.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Remus spluttered.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Do not take him to the Burrow, Remus. I know what you’re doing.”

“It’s a nice place,” Remus said defensively. “And I can say that, because he doesn’t own it.”

“Oh my god,” Lily grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You are insufferable. I’ll tell him.”

“No the hell you won’t,” Remus warned, serious now. She groaned.

“Why can’t you take him to the movies, or something?”

“Are we twenty?”

“Out to dinner,” she suggested. “Or a different pub. There are loads in the city.”

“We already agreed on--”

“What, are you going to take all of your dates to the Burrow for the rest of your life?” she asked, and his eyes widened. “Flaunt them under his nose like trophies?”

Remus harrumphed. “And what if I do?”

Lily scowled, but raised a hand in surrender. “You know what, fine. When he picks all of your courgettes, I won’t say I told you so.”

Remus scoffed, but deflated, slightly; at the mention of his beloved plants, or Lily’s harrowing gaze, she didn’t know.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll think about it. I’ll suggest another place to Fabian - see what he thinks.”

Lily nodded. “Good. You’re being the bigger person, Remus, remember that.”

He scoffed again, dismissive, and picked up his wine and took a large gulp; finished the glass. He zoned out, slightly; the living room window was directly opposite him, and he could see a few robins lounging on his bird feeder. The warming April sun bleated onto their brown feathers; onto their red chests.

“I didn’t know he wore glasses now,” Remus said, quietly. Lily hummed from over her cup, as if she hadn’t heard him, but then frowned as the words sunk in.

“Oh,” she said, placing her cup on the coffee table. “Yeah, for reading. It’s only been a few months. He doesn’t wear them a lot even though he really should because he doesn’t like the look of them on him; and also because James makes a big deal out of them, and he’s all jokingly proud. You know how he is.”

Remus hummed. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t say that he, personally, quite liked the look of them on Sirius. And he didn’t say that, no, he didn’t really know how he is anymore. He didn’t say anything.

***

Bigger person his arse.

Remus walked into the Burrow at about 7pm on Tuesday night, and he didn’t look for red hair; he looked for black.

He really had tried to change it. Tried, meaning, he had thought about it. Thought about it once or twice. Lily’s words had stuck with him for about a day, and perhaps if they had stuck with him longer they might have actually sunk in and done something; and then Remus saw him on Monday night.

It wasn’t conspicuous. It wasn’t even a lingering notice. He had gone straight from school into town to buy some more printer paper - he had run out at the most uncircumstantial time, having to print out twenty worksheets for three classes for tomorrow; and the school that he and James worked at was ridiculously underfunded, and so, one sweep of the staff room and the utility room told him that no, there was no paper to spare, and yes, he was going to have to go into town and dip into his own already lacking teacher salary. He could sing a song about how much he hates the fucking Tory government, but that wouldn’t be the point of this story.

Regardless, he was in town - in the square in the centre, making his way across and past the street performer to get to the street he knew held the stationary shop; and there he was. In jeans, a thin shirt and his fucking leather jacket. He was pushing forty, for crying out loud, why did he still have that thing? And why did he still look good in it?

This wasn’t what made Lily’s words whoosh out of Remus’ brain, however, it was… well, it was the fact Sirius didn’t look at him. He didn’t see him. And, yes, sure, there were probably dozens upon dozens of people in the square - it was a large place, the heart of the city, and held most of the major shops - and, sure, he was standing a good twenty feet away from him; but Remus had seen him, and he had not seen Remus. And for some reason that irritated Remus to the ends of the fucking earth.

Was it irrational? Perhaps. Was it petty? Maybe. Sirius simply evoked so much anger in him - so much residual anger, pain from the divorce, borderline trauma from having to pack up his life and change everything he had known since he was sixteen years old for - he laughed as he remembered this part - reasons that he didn’t even remember anymore. Irreconcilable differences, that was what the divorce papers said, he believed. He didn’t even remember how it had started. There was no concrete reason for the divorce. Of course, there didn’t have to be - people grew apart, marriages fizzled out, it happened - but all he seemed to remember from their particular crash and burn after eighteen years together was pain, and all he knew in the four years afterwards was pure, unabated irritation at the idiotic man that he had to co-parent with – that he sometimes couldn’t fathom having been in love with at one point, he hated him so much – and so, all things considered, he found it rather rude, actually, that he would be subjected to having to see Sirius’ face and Sirius wouldn’t be subjected to having to see his.

And so he walked into the Burrow, and Sirius was the first person who saw him.

His ex-husband was wiping down the bar - he was wearing a white shirt, buttoned down slightly with the sleeves rolled up so his forearms were on show. Sirius had never been an extraordinarily buff, or muscly person, but he had been mouth-watering to Remus at the absolute worst of times, and, despite the disdain he felt when he saw his face, he could acknowledge that, while he couldn’t fathom ever being in love with this stupid man, he could completely fathom his past state of being absolutely, unbearably attracted to him. His muscles tensed as Remus walked in; he tightened his grip on the rag he was holding. He walked over to the bar, and Sirius raised a tantalising eyebrow.

“May I help you, Mr Lupin?” he said, flat and uninterested. Remus huffed.

“Wow, you’re hospitable.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and started wiping the surface down some more. “Not sure how hospitable I can be to someone who said they would marry me for the sole purpose of divorcing me just two days ago.”

“Ah-ah,” Remus held up a hand, correcting him. “I never said I would marry you again. I simply said I’d find a way to divorce you.”

Sirius paused, and narrowed his eyes. “Divorce me from what?”

Remus shrugged. “Life?” 

If Sirius could physically roll his eyes into the back of his fucking head, he probably would’ve achieved it just then.

“I do believe murder threats go against the whole “parents cooperate reasonably well” clause of the custody agreement,” Sirius said blithely, making an effort to not look at his ex-husband. “I highly doubt that would be in the best interests of our child.”

Remus laughed dryly, leaning against the bar. “Congratulations, you said something smart.”

Sirius looked up at him; he was leaning over to wipe down a far corner, and a few strands of his hair had fallen over his face. He glared at Remus through his long, dark eyelashes.

And then the glare dissipated; as he straightened up, it contorted into something different. Something more… withered.

“What are you doing here, Remus?” Sirius breathed. “Do you have any other purpose other than to irritate me? Because if you don’t, I have the right to kick you out, you know.”

He turned and pointed to what Remus guessed was probably a “we have the right to refuse service” placard - he didn’t follow his gesture, because he had, in fact, completely forgotten why he was there, actually.

Jesus Christ, Fabian.

Remus frowned and looked up, around the room. It wasn’t too crowded, reasonably empty - enough so that Remus spotted Fabian almost immediately, sat at a table in the corner by the window. He had already spotted Remus - he looked slightly reluctant, but waved and smiled as Remus caught his eye. He gave him the warmest smile he could muster.

“Yes,” he said to Sirius, not taking his eyes off of Fabian. “I have a date, actually.”

He did not turn to look at his ex-husband’s reaction at the words, but he heard, as he was walking towards the table, a deep, exasperated sigh, and that was good enough for him.

Fabian was nice. He was decent. He asked who Remus was talking to at the bar, and he thought it would be a little bit much to tell the man he was on his first date with that the man working at the bar and pouring out the drinks they were drinking that very second happened to be Remus’ ex-husband of over a decade, and love of his life for almost two. It was water under the bridge. He said Sirius was an old friend, and made sure to be the one to get up and get them more pints when need be, in case Fabian went and Sirius dared to open his mouth and say something that’d land him in hot water. Because of course he’d do that.

This, however, meant that Remus had to spend more time in Sirius’ presence than he’d initially hoped for - he was beginning to feel like he was losing, after all. He had wanted to subject the bastard to torture but felt slightly like he was being winded himself.

Despite all of this, however much he was losing, he was winning an equal amount, because Sirius was significantly disgruntled. Every time Remus would come up to the bar he would sigh, and they would bicker back and forth about trivial, idiotic things while Sirius prepared the drinks - obviously trying to do it as fast as he could, and Remus didn’t blame him - and it would leave them both with bitter tastes in their mouths that Remus had to wash down with Fabian’s enjoyable smile alongside the Guinness. He didn’t know what Sirius washed it down with. He didn’t know if he washed it down at all, actually.

He caught Sirius’ eye a few times - as the night went on the pub got busier, and of course, most of the time Remus looked over to see what he was doing, he was busy giving his attention to somebody else, which felt like a large loss for Remus and annoyed him slightly. But the pleasure when he felt Sirius’ eyes on him matched the annoyance, outranked it, even. Sirius would pretend that he hadn’t been staring when they caught eyes; he would look down and pretend to be counting something, or, if he had his rag in his hand, start scrubbing at a specific spot on the bar that Remus had watched him wipe down ten minutes ago, and ten minutes before that.

It was only at the end of their night, when Remus was feeling only a little wobbly around the edges from the alcohol, that Sirius actually approached, and things started to unravel rather quickly from there.

“Hi there,” he said, placating smile on his face; Remus felt his stomach drop out of his ass. “Can I take your glasses?”

Fabian smiled and nodded, and Sirius picked them up, slowly, placing them on the black tray that he had come with. He leaned in front of Remus, and he registered that Sirius still used the same cologne he used five years ago. He wasn’t sure what to do with that, really.

“First date?” Sirius pressed, and Remus’ glare hardened; Fabian didn’t seem to notice anything different, albeit being a bit taken aback by the outright question.

“Er-- yeah,” he said, smiling. “Gotta get myself out there at some point.”

Sirius laughed, low and throaty, and Remus wanted to strangle him.

“Divorced?” he asked, and Fabian nodded. Sirius feigned surprise. “Oh! Me too.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows and laughed, slightly, looking towards Remus; his smile seemed to falter when he saw Remus’ expression, but only a little bit. “Yeah, and Remus here is, too, aren’t you? Though,” he said, turning back to Sirius. “I guess you’d already know that, being friends and all.”

Sirius hummed a strangled sound that would sound like acknowledgement to anyone else, but Remus knew it, in this situation, to be surprise. It was him saying “ooh, friends, are we?”. Remus could practically hear it.

“Yes,” Sirius said, sweetly; the glasses were on the tray and he could, absolutely, leave, but of course, he was Sirius bane-of-Remus-Lupin’s-existence Black, and so he wouldn’t - not until he’d had his fun. “I know all about Remus’ divorce. I may as well have been there,” he laughed, and Fabian laughed too, and Remus gave him the dirtiest look his little face could manage when he looked down at him.

“You know, my son tells me to get out there all the time,” Sirius said casually, and oh, he was not using Teddy right now-- “He tells me that, maybe, if I dated another man - got into a serious relationship, you know - my bitchy ex wouldn’t keep being petty about the divorce.”

If Remus had had anything to choke on, he would’ve.

“Your son,” he said, coughing slightly and hammering at his chest twice, “absolutely did not say that.”

Sirius shrugged. “Perhaps not in so many words, but the sentiment was there.”

“Yes, well, maybe your bitchy ex has a reason for being so bitchy,” Remus said, knowing fully well that, if asked right now, he truly could not tell anyone the reason. “Maybe your son is the only reason that your bitchy ex hasn’t ripped your head off.”

“Er, am I missing something--” Fabian interjected, but neither of them listened to him.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Sirius offered lightly. “I think my bitchy ex just misses when he had something exciting in his life - the excitement being me, of course. Shakespeare and Dickens year after year must get terribly boring.”

“You know what--” Remus seethed, going to stand up; as he did, he miscalculated the length at which Sirius was actually standing away from the table, and the momentum of his standing knocked Sirius back. The tray flipped clean over as he staggered, and the both of them seemed to watch in slow-motion horror as the two pint glasses hurtled through the air, hit the ground with a positively haunting bang, and shattered into a million tiny little pieces.

Fabian yelped. The two of them said nothing; they just stared.

“Oh, my god,” Sirius said, after a moment, crouching down and then getting back up again upon realising he needed the dustpan and brush. “I’m so sorry,” he said, and Fabian nodded, giving him a dismissive hand despite how shaken up he looked.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, also; unsure of whether he was offering it to Sirius or Fabian. The former simply looked at him, exhaled sharply and straightened up before turning and stalking back over to the bar, presumably in search of the dustpan. The latter nodded and smiled slightly, but it fell rather quickly.

“So,” Fabian said, mouth closing around the vowel. “Ex-husband.”

Remus winced. “Yeah.”

“Look, I--”

“I get it,” Remus said, looking away and shaking his head. He laughed, actually, despite himself. “You don’t have to explain.”

He looked up, and Fabian was smiling sadly.

“I just can’t really deal with that much complication right now,” he said, explaining, when Remus specifically asked him not to; it only made him feel worse, really, because he was right. Remus wasn’t sure he could deal with that much complication either, and yet here the complication was, again, dustpan and brush in hand.

He said nothing as he swept the floor; gathering the shards carefully and meticulously. He said nothing as he finished; he said nothing at all, walking back across to the bar, to the bins. His mouth stayed shut as he ran his hands over his face; pulled his hair back into a ponytail at the back of his head.

He said nothing, and Remus watched his every move.

They left rather quickly. Fabian gave him a hug, which was more than he deserved, to be honest, and, as his Uber approached, turned to Remus with an air of urgency, and said;

“I hope everything works out. Between you and him.”

Before Remus could even begin to comprehend the implications behind that, Fabian was in the Uber and down the street. 

***

“Alright,” Remus said, at the dinner table on Wednesday night. He was rummaging in a drawer of loose papers and various adult things that Teddy paid no attention to. He slurped up his spaghetti and raised his eyebrows at his dad. 

Remus pulled out a letter from deep underneath fifty pieces of paper, a tape measure, three loose pens without lids and a rubber that had been chewed up with a victorious sounding “ah-ha!”, and turned to Teddy. He held the letter up.

“Parents’ evening,” he said, and Teddy groaned dramatically.

“Why are they even doing it for Year 11s?” he complained, sighing into his pasta. “My GCSE’s start in a month. What’s the point?”

“Support for struggling students,” Remus offered with his teacher-y hindsight. “Reassurance and advice for those who might be worried.”

“Is that not what my second set of mocks was for?”

“Well, for you, maybe, but what about the kids who failed them?” he said. “It’s essentially a last little meeting for parents and teachers to confer about the best possible ways to support their kid.”

“Okay,” Teddy said, narrowing his eyes. “Well, why do I have to go?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Elaborate?”

“I have you,” he said. “Can you not just… go around the staff room and ask?”

Remus narrowed his eyes right back at his son. “You know that’s not how co-parenting works, Ted.”

Yes, okay, fine, he knew, but it was rather annoying regardless. Or, perhaps, everything was annoying to Teddy, recently. He was sixteen and moody and stressed about exams and his parents were idiots. Could you blame him?

“Anyway, I’ve spoken to your father,” Remus said, the usual icy tone surrounding the word. He spun his pasta around his fork and deposited it into his mouth like a business transaction. Teddy hummed, waiting for him to swallow to continue whatever awfulness he was going to say. “Of the six slots, we have decided on English, Maths, Science, Art, History, and Drama? Does that sound alright?"

Teddy hummed and nodded his approval, while Remus filled in the slots and names of teachers. He wrote Mr. James Potter underneath Science, and Teddy laughed.

“You really could just text him and ask, you know,” he pointed out, and the corner of Remus’ lip quirked up as he continued writing.

“I am being professional,” he said, before ripping the slot at the bottom of the letter off with ease and sliding it across the table (avoiding the tomato sauce that had, at some point, splattered out of Teddy’s spoon). “I’m, obviously, going to be there all evening, so it was up to your father to decide the times. He picked 4:30-5:30, so you’ll have to stay at school - I think Harry’s staying, as well, so you can hang out with him - and then he’s taken the night off work so I believe he’s going to take the two of you out for the night and drop you home when I get back.”

“Sick,” Teddy breathed, a little bit more energized with the idea now - going out with his Dad and Harry meant good food and stupid, fun activities with no regulations. The three of them always had a good time. Last time he took them both out they went bowling and Sirius Black, self proclaimed “bowler extraordinaire”, had gotten a bit too close to the slippery lane and had fallen flat on his back in front of everyone. 

It still had Harry and Teddy in stitches whenever one of them brought it up.

“Right,” Remus said, dipping his naan bread in the last of his tomato sauce. Teddy was still slurping up his spaghetti - he had pulled out his phone and was scrolling casually, face lit up by the artificial blue. He would’ve reprimanded him for having his phone at the table, but Teddy had been revising all afternoon, and so he thought he deserved a little break. “I need to go sort out tomorrow’s lesson plan - could you load the dishwasher for me, love?”

Teddy scowled jokily, but nodded. “Yeah.”

“And clean that,” he said, pointing to the tomato stain on the table. Teddy rolled his eyes, and Remus laughed and ruffled his hair up as he passed by him on the way to deposit his dish in the sink.

“Da!” Teddy complained, mouth half full of spaghetti, and Remus laughed again. He got halfway through the door frame before backing up exactly the way he went and pointing at his son dangerously. Teddy looked up, confused.

“And don’t forget,” he said, pointing down to the parents evening slip and back up; he knew damn well that he would have to remind his son every day for the next week to actually get the bloody appointments. He should really just do it himself, honestly. 

Teddy groaned, because what else do teenagers do? “I won’t, Jesus Christ.”

“Love you,” Remus grinned.

“Whatever,” Teddy said, looking back at his phone; but he was smiling. 

***

Wednesday night bled into Thursday morning, and that specific, lovely Thursday symbolised the one, the only, Hope Lupin’s sixty-fifth birthday. 

“Happy birthday, Grandma!” Teddy grinned, leaning over Remus’ shoulder, his tousled hair and unbrushed teeth reflecting in the pixels on Remus’ laptop. Hope’s pixelated face laughed from where she was on FaceTime.

“Thank you, dear,” she said. Remus took a sip of his tea, while Teddy pushed himself back off the table to bustle around the kitchen for some breakfast. The clock read 8:09am. Teddy’s alarm went off at 8 - it used to be 7:30, back when he had to walk to school, but Remus’ Year 13 form group had graduated last year and he hadn’t been given another one, so he didn’t have to be at school forty-five minutes earlier anymore - meaning, of course, Teddy leeched lifts off of him like it was no one’s business. 

Though, he made Sirius do the same on Monday mornings, which was worse (and very satisfying to Remus) because Sirius Black was absolutely nowhere near even scratching the surface of ‘early riser’.

Remus made casual conversation with his mother - featuring a brief appearance from his father, who had taken the dogs on a walk - while Teddy got his food, and sat down beside his dad with toast and a cup of orange juice.

“Right, while you’re here, I need my glasses,” Remus said, getting up to go scavenge the entire house, because God knows where the hell Remus Lupin puts his goddamn glasses every time he loses them. “Talk to your Grandma.”

Teddy nodded and swivelled the laptop around to face him fully, to the joy of his lovely old grandmother - he was close to his grandparents, despite the fact that they lived in Wales and Lyall’s mobility was rather limited, so they only got to reunite around once a year during an off weekend in summer when Remus drove them up home. They were sweet people anyway - Lyall may have Remus’ face, but Hope was, honestly, Remus in nature - he got almost half of his personality traits from her, and subsequently, so did Teddy. Hope was Remus’ roots in gardening, in reading, in teaching - she had been a college professor. Teddy only had one set of grandparents, but they made up the energy of two, to be honest.

Remus spent about five minutes looking for his glasses - in that time he made idle chit-chat with his grandma; she asked about school, about life, about potential girl slash boyfriends (Teddy flushed at this one and tried to change the subject), and, finally, about their extended little family.

“Oh, how’s Lovely Lily,” she said. ‘Lovely Lily’ wasn’t a one off - this was genuinely the nickname she used for her. Remus and Lily had been childhood friends - this nickname was at least three decades old, and it had stuck because it was, to put it simply, true. “I haven’t seen her in entirely too long.”

“She’s okay,” Teddy said, taking a bite of his toast. “Her hours are really long, recently, I think.”

“Oh, well,” Hope said, “She’s working hard as always - amazingly strong-willed, that girl. No question where little Harry got it from.”

Teddy didn’t have the heart to remind her that “little Harry” was actually going to be an adult soon enough.

“Oh!” she said, with a sense of urgency, as if there was a time limit on what she was going to say next. “I wanted to tell you to tell your Dad thank you from me.”

Teddy frowned, for a moment, before realising she meant Reluctant-Reading-Glasses Dad Number Black and not Glasses-Scavenger-Hunt-Leader Dad Number Lupin. He raised his eyebrows.

“Dad dad?” he asked, understanding that somehow Hope would get his drift - and she did. She nodded. “I mean, okay, but for what?”

“Oh, well, I only woke up this morning to the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers sent to me by one Sirius Black,” she said with an air of indignance. “And he bought me a beautiful sunhat as well, to use in the garden, he says. It was so lovely - it was exactly what I wanted!”

“He did?” came a surprised voice, and Teddy looked up to see his dad walking through the door frame, glasses on his head, frowning slightly. He looked back down at Hope, who looked stricken - evidently she had not wanted him to hear. Teddy stifled a laugh as he shuffled to the side to let Remus sit in the frame.

“Yes, dear,” Hope said. “Well, he sends us birthday presents every year, me and your father.”

“Still?!” Remus said, slightly higher in pitch than the last one. Teddy’s eyes flickered between mother and son, enraptured.

“Yes, still,” Hope said, slightly firmly. “You weren’t the only one who knew him for twenty years, Remus.”

And - well, that made sense. Sirius hadn’t exactly had the happiest family upbringing, and so he had, in his teenage years, got extensively close to James’ and Remus’ parents, who always extended a hand of comfort out to their son’s best friend (and, for one, future lover) if he ever sought to need it. Didn’t stop Remus from looking positively baffled, though.

The awkwardness lifted when Lyall reappeared, wanting to see his favourite grandson (he always said this, despite the fact that Teddy was his only grandson - he had given up rebuking him with that face. Favourite grandson he was. He beat out all of the competition.)

Teddy chatted to his grandfather until there was really no time left to spare, at which point he ran upstairs to get his school uniform on, and Remus, in turn, was just a little bit over noticeably quieter than he had been before. 

The day passed quickly; Remus’ day was packed with classes every single period (his Thursday’s always were - though it was older students, years ten through thirteen, so they were a tad less intolerable.) (Not that Remus didn’t love kids!) (They were just, sometimes, annoying as fuck!)

Teddy, in retrospect, had most of his favourite subjects on Thursdays - he didn’t have science with Mr. Potter, which made him sad (not that he liked science - he just liked annoying his uncle) but he had Art, with Mrs. Sprout who was the loveliest woman ever and reminded him a bit of his grandma, actually; she praised him heavily for his sketchbook work and had predicted him an A* on his GCSE, and Teddy took that happily in his stride and, to be honest, it set the tone for his entire day.

His happy day continued to be happy when he got a text from his Dad, who was at work; it was a stupid selfie - though Teddy couldn’t even call it a dad selfie because the angle wasn’t even too bad, god damnit; Sirius was way more in tune with trends and social media than his ex-husband, though, admittedly, in a slightly more embarrassing way. Regardless, Teddy checked his phone between periods and Sirius had sent him a selfie of himself and his Auntie Marlene, who was his co-worker and best friend. Marlene was one of the funnest people Teddy had ever met - even though she pinched his cheeks so hard he thought they were about to fall off every time he saw her. Sirius had said, in the text, that Marlene had asked if she could come hang out with the two of them on Saturday; and so Teddy’s happy mood increased, because where Sirius was fun Marlene was even more fun - and, she also bought them a Chinese literally every time she came around, so he had Salt and Pepper chicken and Prawn Crackers to look forward too as well.

Remus had to stay at school until six to do some sort of Teacher prep, and so Teddy made his own way home - he walked most of the way with his friend Victoire, who lived just a few streets away, so he wasn’t lonely - and he retreated into his room to do god-knows-what until about seven, when he came down, and Remus actually saw his face for the first time since that morning (he had come home and yelled up the staircase, and Teddy had simply yelled “okay!” in acknowledgement, because his bed was entirely too comfortable to get out of, and he was halfway through an episode of a really good Netflix show and wasn’t going to pause it now.)

“Do we have any pictures of me and grandma when I was a baby?” was the first thing he asked upon hopping into the living room. Remus put his book down.

“Why?”

Teddy shrugged. “Dunno. I just don’t remember seeing any, and was thinking about it cause it’s her birthday and all.”

Remus frowned in contemplation, placed his book to the side and hauled himself up (cringing at the way his knees clicked - thirty eight. Lord.) He walked over to the shelves by the side of the T.V. and crouched down (the clicks again) to sift through the various old things that had been shoved in there over the years.

He pulled out a photo album. It was white, with faded edges, tied tightly around the middle, and Remus probably knew what it was before he pulled the knot loose and opened it up, so why he acted surprised was absolutely no one’s guess.

It was their wedding album.

Nope. Absolutely not.

“No,” Remus said, rolling his eyes instinctively at the one short glimpse he had had of Sirius’ face in the photo, smiling up at him. Annoying bastard. “Might be… this one?” He pulled out a different album. It was a pale pink. He opened it, and realised it was from their trip to Spain, when Teddy was three. Lily, James and Harry had all gone, alongside Remus’ parents. The first picture was of a tiny Harry and Teddy holding onto each other with big, goofy smiles, and Remus grinned instinctively at his baby.

“Here we go,” he said gruffly, standing up with another groan and hauling it to the coffee table, Teddy in tow - they sat down beside each other and opened the album, pouring through it with fond smiles. Teddy didn’t remember this holiday, obviously, and Harry probably didn’t either, but Remus did - they had been twenty-five, sickeningly in love, in an insanely stable position with their weird, mixed up, chosen family and all four of them had worked tirelessly to save up for a two week trip to Spain over that summer, because they were twenty-five, they were tired parents, and they had fucking made it, god damnit. The first few pages of pictures had been taken by Remus - he had taken most of them, to be fair, it was his camera, but it had been shared about them all at various points over the holidays and so the penmanship was never certain. 

There were pictures of Teddy, of Harry; at the beach, in the hotel, at a restaurant. Pictures of James and Harry, Lily and Teddy, vice versa; Lily and James swinging a tiny Harry between their arms on the beach, Lily wearing a gorgeous yellow sundress, Harry in little blue shoes, Lightning McQueen sunglasses and a matching red hat that Remus remembered distinct tantrums over having to wear. There were pictures of his parents, together - there was one of Hope at Lyall’s chest on the balcony, in front of the sunset. Remus had taken that one. They weren’t as agéd as they were now - they were about fifty - but their smiles were infectiously happy. They flipped the page, and there was what Teddy was looking for - him on his grandmother’s lap. One of them had Hope with Harry on one knee and Teddy on the other, the both of them absolute messes eating ice cream that Remus remembered they had had separate tantrums over until they had acquiesced, because they were on holiday. The picture was endearing - Hope was grinning, a little panickedly as she tried to wrangle the two kids so they didn’t fall over. 

Sirius’ hand was poking out of the side of the frame - he was holding Teddy’s arm lightly. Making sure he didn’t fall.

And then he turned, and there he was. Sirius. Sirius and James, sunbathing - Sirius had gotten ridiculously sunburned, and Remus had extended no sympathy because he had told him to put more suncream on (though, he had treated him with aftersun and put up with his pouting for three days with fond laughter and acts of distraction…). Sirius and Lily, on the balcony, taken as a selfie - his camera had been a camcorder, but the little screen hadn’t been flip-around like most of them nowadays were, and so they had not been able to see themselves on the screen as they took the selfie; which explained the slightly off-centre angle, the way Lily’s head was barely in the frame. Sirius’ mouth was open, the physical embodiment of :D, and he was holding Lily by the head, her red hair slightly ruffled at the top where he had messed it up, and she was pressed to his chest, grinning so widely that her eyes were nothing but crescent moons, the apples of her cheeks outranking them. It was a lovely picture. 

And there were more. There was Sirius at the beach; Sirius at the ice cream parlor. Sirius on a horse. Sirius in the driver's seat of a rental car - he and Remus had driven along the coast, just the two of them. He was extending a warm smile to the subject behind the camera. His eyes were fond. His eyes were always fond.

Christ Almighty, there was so much Sirius. Teddy flicked through the pages absently, grinning at some of the funny ones, laughing at pictures of him and Harry as a baby and maybe the odd one of Sirius and James in a tussle, or Remus looking absolutely exasperated with a child clung to his front and a child riding on his back. They were funny; Remus laughed too; extended stories about the trip to his son, told him little anecdotes that he obviously wouldn’t remember, reprimanded him for the absolutely terrible tantrums he had had to deal with (to which Teddy laughed and said sorry, leaning his head on his fathers shoulder in search of forgiveness, both of them chuckling happily).

There was so much Sirius, but it was the last page. The last page that got him, because the third to last photo - sandwiched between a photo of the horizon and a picture of Lily at breakfast - was him and Sirius. There were many of him and Sirius, obviously, many of them with Teddy, their little family; but this one was different. It was a candid photo of him and Sirius - James or Lily must’ve taken it - and they were at a little restaurant slash bar, sat outside in the cool, night air - Remus remembered it. The kids had fallen asleep in the pram, and they were preparing to get back to the hotel. They were half-drunk or perhaps full-drunk, sloshed on sweet Spanish wine, and Remus was sitting on Sirius’ lap, sideways; Sirius had his left arm around Remus’ waist, and the other around and up his back, holding him up, whilst Remus had both his hands cupped around Sirius’ face. He was pushing his hair back against his ears, instead of it falling into his face like it used to, and their side profiles were directly in sight; and they were in love. It was sickening love. They were smiling, faces less than a few cm apart - Remus was biting his lip in a smile, actually, and Sirius’ mouth was curved up and half open as if he had been about to say something - and they were picturesque. Something out of a movie. That’s what their love had been - that’s what it had felt like, day in and day out.

And Remus was fine; he was fine. It was fine. It was expected. He had not divorced the only man he had ever been with - the only man he had ever loved - and expected him to suddenly just disappear out of his life; out of all of the evidence of his past. Sirius was a part of him, past, present, and future. A part of him in the memories they shared. A part of him in the lovely, kind, brilliant boy that they had raised, loved equally and beautifully. A part of him in the intoxication of their relationship. They had had an expiration date, and that had been okay. It was better to have left each other than to be miserable and stuck together. 

But, inexplicably, Remus also felt wronged. It was unfair that Sirius had made such a mark on his life, and then left him. Which was unfair in itself - they had left each other, it was a mutual leaving - and so Remus didn’t quite understand why he thought it was unfair, until he took a moment to sort through the tangled ball of emotions that had caught itself in his chest and realised that, knowing Sirius, he was probably not feeling any of them, and that was unfair. That was what he felt wronged by. He didn’t want these pictures. He didn’t want any of them.

“You know what,” Remus said, after Teddy had finished flicking back through the album and taking pictures on Snapchat of the funny ones of them to send to Harry, “Why don’t you give this to your dad tomorrow?”

Teddy looked up at him and frowned. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think he had many photos, and there are some lovely ones of him and your Aunt and Uncle in here. I think he’d like them.”

Teddy paused, quirking an eyebrow slightly; unsure of how to respond to that. Remus laughed.

“It’s not a trick,” he said, and Teddy grinned. “I’m not using it to terrorise him. Just take it when he picks you up tomorrow.”

Teddy nodded, and went back to the pictures.

***

“This is a new low. This is too far, Lily. He’s terrorising me.”

Lily huffed through the phone. “Stop being dramatic, Sirius.”

Sirius swirled around in a manner that was absolutely not dramatic at all (really) and frowned, pacing the length of his living room, holding the phone to his ear so hard the back of his earrings were probably going to stab into skin. He didn’t seem to care.

“Why would he give this to me?” he seethed. The house was empty - it was Monday morning, and Teddy had just, about an hour ago, gone to school. Sirius had basically fallen over himself running down the drive after he’d gotten home from dropping him off to look through this fucking photo album. It was open on the coffee table; on the last page. He looked, momentarily, at the picture of Remus on his lap, and then looked away as fast as he could. “What is he trying to do? What is he trying to say, Lil?”

Lily hummed.

“I mean, Ted said that he said it was for the pictures of us in there, right?” she offered. “I mean - look, I know you think it, but Remus isn’t the absolute devil’s spawn; if there’s more photos of you than him in there he probably just thought you’d be better off with it.”

“But there are so many of him!” Sirius complained. “Of us! Why didn’t he take them out? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in a divorce? Split everything equally?”

“I don’t know, honey, you’re the divorced one here.”

“Well, I’m not exactly your most conventional forty year old divorced man,” Sirius grumbled, collapsing onto his sofa and avoiding looking at the photo album. “I mean-- there are so many pictures of us, Lily, like - Us, us. Aren’t you supposed to bin photos with your ex? Cut them in half? Isn’t that what they did on Parent Trap?”

Lily laughed. “Are you sure you want to compare your life to Parent Trap? You remember how that movie ends, right?”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, absolutely not. Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t care about these pictures.” He reached forward and flipped the last page over and shut, completely. And then he placed a book on top of the album for good measure. “It’s closed now. I’m not looking at them. Who cares?”

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you want me to actually answer that, or…?”

“No,” Sirius snapped. “Don’t. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I mean, it’s sounding to me like you--”

“Nope, nope, nope, nope,” Sirius interjected, and Lily laughed through the phone. “I told you I didn’t wanna hear it.”

“You have to hear it!”

“No.”

“Fine,” Lily said. “You are insufferable, you know that? The pair of you.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Sirius complained, and Lily made what sounded like an audible version of an eye roll and went “yeah, yeah…”

Sirius huffed, desperate to change the subject. “So, Mini-Potts told you about Wednesday, right?”

Lily laughed. “Yes, yes, he’s very excited to hang out with you and Ted. At least, I think? He said something about bowling and then burst into laughter and I couldn’t get another word out of him.”

Sirius groaned. “Those kids are never going to let that go…”

“Anyway,” Lily said, “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. I’ll be there for Harry’s parent’s evening, obviously, so you better not try anything funny, right?”

“What on earth could I do at parents’ evening, Lily?”

“Break a table. Spill a glass of water over Remus’ papers. Break a school chair. Sneak into Remus’ classroom and write him a vulgar note on a post-it note. Break his desk chair. Sneak into Remus’ classroom and write him a vulgar note on his whiteboard–”

“Okay,” Sirius said quickly. “Okay. Point taken.”

“Sirius, I mean it,” she said, rather exasperatedly. “Don’t do anything stupid. Give it a rest. You guys have been really going at it recently - more than usual - and it's exasperating for everyone involved.”

“We’re not that bad,” Sirius said sullenly, and Lily hummed.

“Yeah? How much did you have to take out of your salary for those two pint glasses?”

Sirius groaned. “He told you about that?”

“Of course he did! He also told me about his stupid plan to go there with the guy in the first place - if it’s worth anything, I tried to convince him otherwise.”

Sirius laughed breathily. “Thank you, Lily.”

She sighed. “Look, if you’re so agitated about it, just put the photo album on a back shelf and just don’t look at it. Try to forget it exists.”

“Alright,” he said, slightly defeated.

“I have to go, okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

The line went silent, but not dead.

“I love you,” Lily said, and Sirius smiled. “You big idiot. You stupid, ridiculous man.”

“Love you too, Lily,” he said, and then the line went dead.

Sirius sighed. He placed his phone beside him, face-down on the sofa, and sighed again. The album sat, sadly, on his coffee table.

It was stupid. He was an idiot. He was a stupid, ridiculous man. You’d think stupidity would understand stupidity, but no, Sirius Black was absolutely nowhere near close to understanding what the hell Remus Lupin was thinking about these days. How he worked. What his thought process was, when he came to torment Sirius in his workplace; when he stole his milk; when he blew out the candles in his pumpkins on Halloween (seriously, who does that?). They were stupid, ridiculous men, and one of the stupid men had, as of present, sent the other stupid man a clandestine reminder of a better time, when they weren’t as stupid, weren’t as ridiculous, and Sirius didn’t know what it meant.

God, Remus infuriated him. He infuriated him all the way through his skin, down to the very bone - the very enamel of his being. He had dug himself down there, you see, twenty years ago. He had curled up in the crevices of Sirius’ bones; touched each cell, every inch of his body, inside and out, memorised it; memories were stronger than anything. He was in him. Even if they didn’t have Teddy, or James and Lily - even if they could, logically, cut ties and even if Sirius could fly across the world, to Egypt or something, where he would never have to see Remus Lupin again, it would be futile, really, because he would carry Remus with him everywhere he went. He would carry the love, and the hate, and the memories with him to the ends of the fucking earth; try to dump them over the edge into space, but they would just come back to him in a buzz of recognition and familiarity; universes trying to align but missing each other by a millimeter, constantly, for the rest of his life. They were parallel lines. He was light refraction directly into his eyes. Five years ago, Remus could’ve blinded him, and Sirius would’ve said thank you; today, Remus could blind him and Sirius would just blind him right back, and he wasn’t entirely sure which was better and which was worse.

And, there we go, the last page of the photo album was open. And there he was. Young and in love. He couldn’t fathom feeling like that, now. He didn’t think he could even if he tried. Life had twisted the way he loved into something he didn’t recognise, and he had never loved anyone the way he loved Remus; he didn’t know how to love anyone the way he loved Remus, really. And he didn’t think he could figure it out - this new, wiser type of love - without Remus. He didn’t think he could extend his love to anyone that wasn’t him, and so, he supposed, he would stay in the dark forever; because he couldn’t stand Remus, and Remus couldn’t stand him, and that was not love. That was nowhere near.

He pulled the photo album into his lap, and picked the picture of the two of them out of the corner clasps that it was held in. It curled, slightly, in his hands; he held it up to his face, looked carefully at the two strangers, young and drunk and so in love they were insane, and they could be any two people on the street. They were not people that Sirius knew.

He opened a random drawer, threw the picture in, and closed it with a bang of bitter finality.

***

Sirius pulled up to Teddy’s school, and took a solid two minutes to convince himself to get out of the car.

He made it, eventually, and Teddy was waiting with Harry and Lily in the little seating area outside the office. It was coming on 4:15, and he had stayed the last forty-five minutes here, waiting for their slots. They all stood up as Sirius entered.

“Well, hello,” he said with a grin, pulling Teddy into a reluctant hug (honestly, what was it with teenagers not wanting to hug their dads anymore?). Teddy groaned and ruffled his hair back into position when he pulled back, and then Harry hugged him willingly; Sirius poked his tongue out at his son from over Harry’s shoulder, and he tried to hold in his laughter and failed miserably.

“I’m going to steal your son, Lily, I do hope you don’t mind,” he said, throwing an arm around his favourite (only) nephew, and Lily simply turned around so she was walking backwards towards the main entrance, and rolled her eyes.

“I’ll steal yours, then,” she said, and they both turned to Teddy, who raised both his eyebrows and then shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he said; Sirius gasped indignantly and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, pulling another lovely laugh out of him. He went to walk beside his dad anyway.

“Come on, you,” he said, throwing an arm around his own boy, too. “Let's go listen to your teachers talk about how bloody brilliant you both are for an hour, and then the three of us will go see the new Marvel movie, eh?”

Teddy and Harry both grinned and nodded from under his arms. 

Sirius loved them more than anything.

It was early-ish, and thus there wasn’t too much of a built-up delay in meetings; Sirius and Teddy got into their first one, with his drama teacher, with ease; the funky old man praised Teddy to heaven and back, for his written work and his acting pieces, and the Drama department had such intense terminology and specific ways of going about writing their essays and drama logs that the teacher ended up simply talking to Teddy, and Sirius didn’t really get any advice, besides keep supporting him, which... obviously?

The meetings all happened in the big, great hall; all of the seating for assemblies and lunch times had been moved and replaced with about thirty desks in one round three quarters of a rectangle, all with a teacher sat at it and a little name tag laminated and taped to the front. There were two seats to the opposite side of each small desk, with various others around for waiting parents and/or parents who had come as a duo. It was slightly hard to maneuver around, but Sirius thought they had been quite lucky, to be honest; because the real influx of people would happen at around 6pm, and they would be long gone and watching Natasha Romanoff kick ass by then.

James was Teddy’s fourth meeting, and he was grinning before they even sat down.

“Well, hello,” he said, shuffling his papers and ordering them all up. Sirius laughed. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Well, hello to you too, Mr. Potter,” Sirius jeered, and Teddy grinned and looked between them both.

“Hi, Mr. Potter,” he said, quieter, and Sirius scoffed.

“He’s only Mr. Potter in the classroom,” he said casually. “Uncle Jamie everywhere else.”

“Ah-ah,” James sat, shuffling through his files to get to Teddy. “We’re still on school grounds, though, Sirius, so I think we should compromise.” He pulled out a file and placed it on the table. “Consider: Mr. Jamie.”

Sirius covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing ridiculously. Teddy covered his forehead in embarrassment.

“I’m absolutely not calling you that,” he said, looking back up at his uncle, and James scoffed.

“Okay, fine, fine,” he said, opening the file and taking a look. “Right, onto the real nitty-gritty. Quick disclaimer, just for Sirius-” he looked up and gave him a condescending pout. “If you don’t understand any of the Science stuff, you can ask. It’s okay.”

“Screw you, Potter,” Sirius said, censoring himself in front of the kids; Teddy laughed.

“Alright then,” James said. “Well, Ted, I think firstly we’ll start with your mocks - you got a B, overall, didn’t you?”

Teddy nodded, and so did Sirius.

“Brilliant - that’s an amazing grade, Ted,” he said, sincerely. “And your Biology and Chemistry was solid - did I tell you you got an A* in Biology?”

Teddy nodded, but Sirius’ jaw dropped.

“You didn’t tell me?!” he said, unsure of which he was speaking to - both of them raised their eyebrows. Teddy looked nervous.

“Ah-- I must’ve forgot--”

“Jesus bloody Christ, Teddy, that’s amazing,” Sirius said, turning to him. Teddy grinned widely. “I’ve got an actual genius as a child. What the hell.”

James laughed. “Yes, you have. One of the best marks over my three classes. Now, it’s really just your Physics that's bringing you down - you know that, don’t you? We’ve been over your paper together.”

Teddy nodded.

“And you’re going to Perry’s study sessions on Monday lunches, right?”

Teddy nodded again.

“Right, well, that’s brilliant,” he said. “The files say you’re predicted a strong B, but I think you can get an A - if you just work on your equations, and your working out. Your Chemistry is brill - as a Chemistry specialist, I’m very proud,” he said offhandedly, “and your Physics is absolutely nothing you can’t improve with a couple of practice papers. You know what, actually, there are some really good youtubers who explain some GCSE science concepts super easily - I’ll get Harry to send you the links, yeah?”

Teddy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, brill,” James said. “Honestly, there’s not much more to do - your combined is going to be great regardless, and if you keep revising the way you are you can push yourself to be even better - just try your best, kid.” He shot him a warm smile. “You don’t need science for your A-Levels, right? You’re doing humanities?”

“Yep. Art, History, English. And I wanna go to an Arts Uni. Leeds, maybe.”

“That’s my boy,” Sirius grinned, ruffling his hair; Teddy swatted it away.

“Right then, that’s brilliant,” James said. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ll do amazing, Ted.”

Teddy smiled. “Thank you, Uncle James.”

“Mr. Jamie.”

He pointed a jokey finger at him as he got up. “No.”

James raised two hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright. See you guys later!”

“Bye,” Teddy said, and Sirius grinned at his best friend, who grinned back and then let his face fall back into professionalism as the next parent-child duo came along.

Teddy’s fifth meeting was Maths, which went great - it wasn’t his best subject, but he was predicted a strong pass, and his teacher was bald and scary-looking but actually lovely when you spoke to him, so Sirius was rather pleased by that. 

His last meeting was English.

Remus didn’t teach Teddy. There was no legality saying that he couldn’t - there legally couldn’t be, really, because there were some schools who really only had one teacher per subject and thus that teacher would be required to teach their child. Remus not teaching Teddy was just an agreement they had made, to avoid potential leniency and favouritism that he may unconsciously fall into. So, the teachers made an effort to not timetable Teddy Lupin-Black with Mr. Lupin, for glaringly obvious reasons.

Teddy’s actual English teacher was a tight-lipped Scottish woman named Miss. McGonagall. She wasn’t exactly the cuddliest person, but she was - according to Teddy - a brilliant teacher. She was also on the senior leadership team; Teddy and Harry had had some problems a couple of years ago with a Maths teacher, and it had been Sirius and Lily who had come in and sat in meetings and sorted things out. The teacher left the year after, anyway; Sirius always thought that McGonagall had something to do with it. She was a terrifying, brilliant woman.

But Sirius wasn’t scared of her, today. No. He wasn’t even paying attention to her, really. Because, as they sat in the waiting seats, as McGonagall finished up her meeting with a blonde girl in plaits and her mother, Remus Lupin sat at the desk directly beside her. Within two feet’s proximity.

And there he was. Sirius wasn’t exactly sure what he expected. It was Remus. That was his face. That was his hair. He was wearing his glasses, and talking animatedly to the young girl with whom he was having his meeting with. He was in his teacher clothes - which were only a little bit more formal than his normal clothes. The girl said something, and he laughed, and Sirius watched his eyes crinkle; he had a lot more wrinkles than he used to - than he did in the picture - but they were somehow entirely endearing. He was paler than usual. Sirius didn’t like that; it was strange, considering how much he got out in the sun in his garden. Had he been sick? No, Teddy would’ve told him. …Would he?

He watched Remus’ irritating little hand trail across an irritating edge of an irritating sheet of paper. His fingers were long; thin. He passed the girl a piece of paper with indecipherable words on them, and Sirius flickered back up to his eyes and, inexplicably, caught them flickering back up to him, too.

“...familiarise yourself with the content…” he was saying; or, at least, he was saying something like that. Sirius wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying, just the noises that his mouth was making - so much so that he realised when they stopped. Remus paused, his hand in stasis in mid air, midway through a word; and for a split second, they simply looked at each other. His mouth fell open, a little bit; Remus’ face softened slightly; and then the mother sat in front of him said something, and he dragged his eyes away as if it pained him to do so - coughing and apologising for losing his train of thought.

The young girl turned around to follow Remus’ brief gaze, and Sirius cleared his throat. He scratched the back of his neck and looked around, as if he was looking for the source of Remus’ staring too. In a way, he sort of was.

“Dad. Dad.”

Sirius blinked, and saw that McGonagall’s table was clear; Teddy was standing up, and frowning at him.

“It’s us,” he said.

“Oh!” Sirius said, getting up as fast as he could. “Oh, sorry! Blimey, I was miles away, then.”

Teddy smiled and went to sit down, extending a little wave at his dad at the table beside it, who was being approached by a new family - Sirius followed him, taking the two steps across the space to the chair next to Teddy, and pretended not to feel Remus’ eyes on him the whole way. 

***

“No, you go wait in the office for Harry - I’ll be two secs, just going to find the loo.”

Sirius was not going to find the loo.

Sirius was standing outside Mr. Lupin’s classroom.

He didn’t know what it had been. Perhaps it had been the horror of the photo album - the absolute low blow it had felt like. Perhaps it had been the eye contact. Perhaps it had been Sirius wanting to prolong the eye contact. Was he even angry with Remus, or just himself?

No. No, he was angry with Remus. He hated him. He was going to leave him an angry post-it note again.

The door clicked behind him, and he switched the light on. The classroom was immaculate - it was nicely decorated, more so than it had been the last time Sirius had been here. There was work on the walls - various English teacher posters. One about the theoretics of the ‘i before e except after c’ rule. One about Macbeth. There was a nice poster of Kenneth Brannagh’s face that he hated for no clear reason except for the fact that it belonged to Remus.

He began rummaging around, going through his desk - there was really just stationary. He found a pen, but no post-its. He opened a lower drawer and found a stack of essays and mock papers, and closed it slowly - he was a dickhead, sure, but he wasn’t that big of one.

And then, he stopped. He contemplated.

What the fuck was he doing?

No, no, because this was exactly what Lily had told him not to do. This was exactly what he had genuinely accepted that he wasn’t going to do. This was stupid. He could just go and pick Remus’ courgettes, he didn’t have to break and enter into his classroom while his son and nephew waited downstairs for their petty dad-uncle to stop making their other petty dad-uncle a petty living hell.

Nope. He was leaving. It was time to leave. Not today. 

He put everything back where he found it (and even straightened a few of the papers and one of the posters - don’t ever say he didn’t help Remus fucking Lupin) and headed straight for the door, pulling at the handle.

It was locked.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

He breathed. He tried again, as if there would be a different result to five seconds ago.

Nope, still locked.

“Fuck,” Sirius whispered to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He was a thirty-eight year old man, and he was going to die in his ex-husband’s high school English classroom with nothing but a few straightened papers and the dick that he was, inevitably, going to draw on the whiteboard just before he succumbed to death’s cold grip to show for it.

Fuck. He had to do it. He had to do it.

The phone rang three times before it clicked through.

“What the fuck did you do.”

“Lily, listen-”

“Sirius, what the fuck did you do.”

He let out an audible sigh. “Look, in my defence, I didn’t actually do anything yet.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m locked in his classroom.”

“Oh my god.”

“Please, Lily,” he pleaded, feeling absolutely pathetic. “Please, please please please, I think it locks from the outside. Please come let me out. Please don’t tell him. Or Teddy. Please.”

There was a terse silence, and then she sighed audibly.

“Only because you said please eight times.”

“Please?” he offered.

“Don’t fucking push it, Sirius.”

And the line went dead.

Sirius exhaled in relief, and put his phone back into his pocket. He leant casually, against an empty corner of Remus’ desk - keen to not knock anything. There was a pen holder with a couple of felt tips in it that had mismatched lids. He spent a minute or so switching them all back around, until they all were back with their partner, and he was satisfied.

A distinct sound of a lock clicking found his ears, and he swivelled his head around - except, he swivelled a bit too viciously, and his hand went with him and collided with the pen holder, sending all ten (or more) or the felt tips flying to the floor with an entirely too dramatic crash for what it was, just as the door swung open, and it was not Lily behind it, but Mr. Lupin himself.

Lily Evans, you fucking traitor.

Remus looked down at the rolling pens and then back up to him, and-- well. He knew what this looked like. They had had four years of this.

“It’s not--” he started, kneeling down to pick up the pens frantically. “I didn’t-”

“What the fuck are you doing in my classroom, Sirius?” Remus said through his teeth, and Sirius looked up and oh, oh no, Teddy was right; he absolutely could not handle a livid Remus, and yet here he was, both livid, and Remus.

He stood up and put on his best fake smile, slotting the pens back into the little cup.

“Okay, look, I think there may have been a slight misunderstanding--”

“Misunderstanding?” Remus repeated, terrifyingly high-pitched. “Misunderstanding? Our marriage was a misunderstanding, Sirius, I understand you making a mess of my classroom pretty damn fucking well.”

Sirius ignored how that one stung. “No, okay, listen--”

“To what?” Remus said, bringing his hands up to his forehead. “What could you possibly say to make me not mad at you for this, Sirius?”

He gaped for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sirius said pathetically. It was strange - he could usually argue with Remus against the shit he actually did do like it was his lifeline, but now, here, when he was completely (okay, slightly) (more-or-less) innocent, he couldn’t for the life of him make it convincing. “I came in here to mess up your classroom, yes, and then I changed my mind, but the door locked by itself--”

“Yeah, I did that ‘cause I knew you’d come in here,” Remus said. “Because you can’t bloody leave well enough alone.”

Sirius widened his eyes in indignation. There was no way that Remus fucking Lupin was saying those words to him - and yet, they had been spoken.

“I can’t leave well enough alone?!” he spat. “You have a lot of fucking nerve saying that to me, Remus."

“You broke into my classroom!”

“You stole my milk!”

“You picked all of my fucking tomatoes!”

Sirius took an angry two, three steps forward. “You sent me that stupid fucking photo album!”

His words came out slightly hysterical; he only realised how livid he was, now, in turn, when Remus’ eyes flickered with weakness. He had taken way too many steps forward. They were barely an arms’ length away from each other.

“It had a lot of pictures of you in it,” Remus said, calmly. “I thought you might like to have them.”

“It had a lot of pictures of us in it,” Sirius corrected. Remus’ jaw twitched. “God-- you’re a coward, Remus. You know that? You’re a bloody coward.”

He tried to get past him, get to the door, fucking leave before he suffocated, but Remus gripped him by the arm and pulled him back. Sirius gasped and staggered, and found himself practically pulled into Remus’ chest; his hand around his wrist burned, and he looked up into Remus’ eyes, but Remus was focused on a point over his shoulder, not on him. Sirius pulled his wrist back, but Remus did not let go.

“I. am not. a coward,” he said, slowly; gritted through his teeth, anger flowing through the cracks and swirling in between them both.

Sirius laughed mockingly.

“I think you are,” Sirius sneered, moving his head to the side. Trying to get into Remus’ line of vision. Always, always, trying to get into Remus’ line of vision. “You can’t even fucking look at me.”

Remus’ eyes flickered over to his, and. Ah. Well. 

He looked up into his ex-husband’s eyes and saw more passion, more anger, more feeling than he had experienced in four years combined. He looked up into his ex-husband’s eyes and saw the old way he used to love - headfirst, without reason, without consequence. A constant, dangerous freefall in which Remus was the only solid thing he could grip onto; everything else passed him by in blurs, flashes. None of it mattered. Nothing but him.

He looked into his eyes and saw the new love festering. It manifested itself beside him in the freefall; not wholly there, but there enough for him to grab him if he wanted it.

His knees felt slightly weak at the intensity.

“Let go of me, please, Remus,” Sirius said as calmly as he could in his festering anger, and Remus let his arm go with a jerked movement; a step back. He was flushed. Sirius was too.

“Take Teddy,” Remus said, not looking at him again. “Do whatever the fuck you were going to do. And then just--” 

Sirius swallowed, and Remus squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just… don’t,” Remus breathed. The fight had gone out of him; he was running on nothing. He was barely running. Neither of them were. “I can’t do this, anymore, Sirius.”

And it was four years ago, and Teddy was upstairs in bed, and Remus and Sirius were stood opposite each other in the living room with tears in their eyes, tears on their cheeks, and Remus had said those exact words to him, then, too. 

And Sirius had said nothing. Sirius had simply left.

Why break tradition now?

Remus and Sirius were at a stalemate.

A standstill. An impasse. A deadlock, if you will.

All four of these words had flickered across the forefront of Remus’ subconscious during the past two months; in which the two of them had barely spoken a single word. All four of these words had appeared as supporting characters when his brain chemistry decided against antagonising him; when he walked past the Burrow and did not go in; when he dropped Teddy off outside Sirius’ house, and caught a glimpse of the most familiar shape he knew haloed in the doorframe like it was an entrance to hell, or heaven.

All four of these words settled comfortably in his bones; but one did not. One word knocked on his door every single day; bled into his thoughts every single night. 

The word was truce.

Truce. Truce?

The past two months of nothing - genuinely, absolutely nothing, besides two cold texts regarding Teddy’s exam start and finish dates - had been almost agonising for Remus. The burn of his skin around Remus’ hands again singed his palms for days. The heat of his eyes… god, Remus had quite honestly never seen anything like it. Not five years ago when they were in ruins and not ten, when they were in riches. It was an imprint on the inside of his poor, befuddled brain. It was all he saw when he closed his own.

See, the word truce irritated him so, because it wasn’t one. 

Not in the fucking slightest. Truce implied cooperation - truce implied a mutual agreement. There was nothing mutual about the ceasefire that had occurred two months ago; nothing agreeable about how their fiery, petty feud had come to an end. 

Everything was up in the air. Remus Lupin did not appreciate uncertainty.

Because that’s what Sirius made him feel. Uncertain. Sirius made him feel like he could be a million things he could not. There was something incredibly dangerous in the taste of him - he bled onto Remus’ tongue like a disease and jammed his thumbs into whatever part of Remus’ brain thought rationally; swirled around his desire, appeasing it, blocking out all memories of how they had fallen apart before and making the path to falling back together look like the yellow fucking brick road from the Wizard of Oz.

He had entertained these uncertainties. The past four years had been full of uncertainties - passing regrets, doubts of whether they did the right thing. He had long tired of wishing that some spirit would come into his bedroom at 4am and tell him, for certain, that what he did was right. And the divorce had been so much to contend with - so much to grasp onto, an entire life to build from scratch, brick in one hand and cement in the other - that, he supposed, he had put up floodgates; fuck it, he had put up a whole electrical dam; and simply forbade himself from entertaining anything more than if Sirius was parenting his son correctly (of course he was) and if their custodial agreement worked for them (it seemed to be the only thing to come out of the divorce that was still running smoothly. Remus included).

Oh, woe was Remus Lupin.

They had absolutely come to a violent head. It had been something that he hadn’t even realised had been building up - petty pranks and milk thievery and back and forth and back and forth until they were about one hundred stories high, choking on the clouds and the dreamlike reality they had spiralled into to forget their own. Balancing on a point barely long enough for both pairs of their feet to stand on without one of them falling. Or both, he supposed. If he had been the one to fall, god fucking knows that the last conscious thing he would’ve done would be to grip the fabric of Sirius’ shirt and drag him the fuck down with him, not even for revenge, or out of pettiness; simply because he had not known a life without Sirius present in it in some form or another since he was eleven years old, and it felt like he could not exist without him at arms’ reach somewhere; even if it was just to be a supporting character, scowling at him from the sidelines. 

They hadn’t fallen, though. It was a stupid scenario that Remus envisioned purposelessly, because instead of letting them reach boiling point and burning from the inside fucking out until they were some sort of hollow, burnt sentiment of doomed lovers, he had been the one to back down. Instead of letting them topple over from the top, he had pulled the foundations out from underneath them. They had crumbled like a fucking Jenga tower; and where they had built the tower equally, cement replaced with venomous mockery and bricks replaced with their pathetic actions, it was Remus who had been the one to end the third phase of their lives; by tugging cruelly on what had been the catalyst of ending the second.

Phase four was, as established prior, pure uncertainty. Phase one was friends; two was lovers; three was ruins. What the fuck happened when the story was supposed to be over?

Hell, apparently. Burning, torturous hell, in which Remus was the imprisoned inhabitant and Sirius was the cruel, guiding hand, wrapping his callous, sensual fingers around his throat; or his heart.

And his hell was at Tesco.

Tesco, of all fucking places. Tesco, where their descent into madness had begun. (Remus hadn’t even noticed himself parking on the absolute opposite side of the car park to where Sirius had parked next to him before until afterwards. But their tale was not in relation to slim-fitting parking spaces.)

Remus had been in the frozen foods aisle when he had seen him. It had been mid-May - Teddy had just started his GCSE exams two days prior, and Remus remembered he was, at that very moment, scanning the aisle for his son’s favourite steak pie that he only really bought once in a full moon. (The kid had been studying his ass off, and Remus had been doing everything he could to lessen his stress load, even a little - he knew firsthand how school could drain a teenager’s life force. He already had two tubs of ice cream in the trolley. Along with an endless supply of Chilli Heatwave Doritos. Teddy had gotten his appreciation of spice from Sirius.)

It had been… what, three weeks? Probably about two and a half, actually, since he had seen him last - since they had overflowed, fucking flooded his classroom, leaving scorch marks on the floor for Remus to stare at while his students wrote an essay on Lady Macbeth and her slow descent into madness that seemed very apt in comparison to Remus’ own mental state. 

Three, two and a half weeks; one day, one hour, four years; no matter what he was pretty sure his heart would still have sunk just as drastically as it had in Tesco when he had reached into the freezer to grab the cardboard box and had emerged to a familiar figure in his peripheral. Shapes, curves he had traced with fingers, his tongue; memorised, climbed up and down and back up again to hang happily over the cliffside, a pinky finger away from freefall.

And there he was. Sirius. It was Sirius, but it was not his Sirius. He was in jeans and a shirt - no jacket, for it was warm. They had fallen apart in the winter, and here they were, falling apart again on the precipice of Summer. 

His hair was tied back, but he never grew it long enough to keep it all back in the bobble - a whole arch of hair haloed his face at all times. He used to complain about it, all the fucking time; Remus would tell him to just let his hair grow out of the awkward phase between slightly long and moderately long, but - stubbornly - he never did. He just let it hang sullenly at his collarbones, perhaps a little lower; and when his hair was tied back the front pieces would fall in front of him and Remus grew to love it, actually, in moments where he would hold himself up on his hands over Remus and lean forward and there would be a short moment, just before he captured his lips, searing and passionate, where his hair would act like a silk curtain barring them off from the rest of the world. Not that he needed it. Remus’ tunnel vision only saw him, only him, always him.

His hair hung that day, on the blisteringly warm May morning, like mockery. It was a curtain Remus would never have the pleasure of entertaining again. It was a curtain to who Sirius used to be to him. He could pull it apart; he could rip his fucking hair out; but he would never experience that again. Oh, god, his hair. Remus would die for the feel of it between his fingers, whether he was gripping it in a euphoric haze or gripping it to ram his face into a wall, he would die for it, he would die for it all.

And he was warm. In the cool, frozen aisle, he was fucking burning, glued to the spot, and Sirius’ eyes were ice, too, and there was no heat except in the curve of his lip, the fine hair of his eyelashes. The way they fluttered when he blinked like something out of a fairytale turned deadly; each blink shooting fire out of his orifices and draining Remus’ throat of all of its moisture; and he didn’t know what to do. Four seconds felt like four years. But five didn’t feel like five.

Sirius shifted, slightly - oh, god, he was real - and his eyes tore away from Remus’ like they had to be physically dragged, kicking and screaming. They moved down to the box he was holding. Back up again. 

And Remus, genuinely, almost laughed - almost laughed in absolute, desperate hilarity - because Sirius had come for exactly the same thing he had. Because they were co-parents. Because they had a beautiful, amazing boy, their boy, their lovely boy who was about fifteen years older than baby age but would be their baby forever. And the love he felt for his baby was twisted into abject grief by the pain he felt having to be faced with the man who had been his baby once, too.

And it somehow made everything worse - every inch of his skin burn - knowing, now, for certain, that Sirius was thinking the exact same thing. For nobody; not even an Oscar winner could fake the passion that had pooled in his eyes in Remus’ classroom. 

This was their stalemate. This was their endgame.

Remus put the box on the top of the freezer, and Sirius said nothing. He looked down, feeling, unforgivably, like he was a thirty-eight year old man about to cry in a supermarket, and he put the box down; and Sirius said nothing, but he felt everything; Remus turned and walked away without a second glance. He left it there.

Hell engulfed him with its flames five days later, when Teddy came home from his dad’s and mentioned happily - and tactically - that he had had his favourite meal for dinner. Remus felt quite unforgivably like a thirty-eight year old man about to cry in his kitchen, then, too.

Was Sirius a good parent? Obviously. Was their custodial agreement still running smoothly? By the thinnest fucking thread. 

Was Remus still running smoothly? 

Yeah. Absolutely fucking not.

***

“Verdict?”

Teddy raised an eyebrow as he plundered into Harry’s bedroom, swinging his backpack off with a groan and throwing it onto the other boy’s bed. “With what? My exam or my hopeless parents?”

“You had an exam today?!”

Teddy laughed, standing at Harry’s mirror and tugging at the knot of his tie. “You’re the worst,” he said, pulling it around his neck and, as soon as it was off, flinging it across the room, hitting his cousin directly in the face.

“Ow!” Harry groaned, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor. He scrambled up to sit cross legged where he was on his bed - kicking Teddy’s bag in the process - and laughed. “Seriously, though, how’d it go?”

“It was okay,” Teddy said blithely. He shrugged off his blazer and undid his top button so he could breathe, going to sit next to him on the bed. “I only missed three questions I think. Nothing too bad.” He turned and pointed a threatening finger at him. “Don’t you dare start grilling me on the topics, though, ‘cause I already spent ten minutes at school giving your dad the entire rundown and, honestly, don’t tell him but I never want to fucking think about Chemistry again.”

Harry laughed. “Aw, no, I already broke his heart when I told him I preferred Biology in Year 10. This might truly kill him.”

“Bet your mum was chuffed with that, though.”

“Of course,” Harry said with a grin. Teddy spread his arms out and flopped backwards onto Harry’s bed with a groan, letting his legs dangle idly over the side. The mattress lifted as Harry heaved himself off.

“Right,” he said, going over to his desk and heaving something out from behind it. “What’s the verdict, actually, then?”

Teddy raised his head and shot him a glare. “The verdict is nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he breathed, letting his head drop. “Still.”

Harry frowned, and sat back down on the bed beside him. He extended a hand across to him. “Would you like to do the honours?”

Teddy sat up, rolling his eyes, and took the whiteboard and board marker that Harry was offering him out of his hands. It was all quite stupid to him, honestly.

The board had been split down the middle with a less-than-straight line, into two sections. On one side was written the words, in Harry’s untidy scrawl, “Days since R has spoken about S.” On the other side were the same words with the initial swapped.

He drew a sullen I, starting a new five, on the Remus side; the Sirius side had four lines already, and so he drew a meticulous diagonal down the middle to symbolise a five. Fifty-five days, for him; forty-six for Remus.

“This is stupid,” Teddy muttered, giving the board back. Harry laughed. 

“You say it’s stupid every day, but you still do it.”

“I’m stupid,” he said, flopping backwards. “Stupid parents breed stupid child to do stupid things.”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Harry said, puffing his chest out slightly.

“Alright, show-off.”

“No, listen. That was me segwaying into telling you that I have an idea.”

Harry grinned and shuffled sideways on his bed. Teddy rolled his eyes and sat up, moving to sit where Harry had. He raised his eyebrows.

“What is it, then?”

Harry leaned forward, as if he was about to divulge some government secret - Teddy, stupidly, found himself leaning forward too. Harry opened his mouth.

“Have you ever seen the movie Parent Trap?”

Oh, fucking hell.

“For god’s sake, Harry,” Teddy groaned. Harry widened his eyes.

“You haven’t even heard what I’m going to say yet!”

“I’m not going to Lindsay Lohan my parents!” 

“Why not?!”

Teddy huffed, dragging his hands over his face. He dropped them to his knees with a sullen pang.

“It’s stupid,” he said; finding himself unable to articulate his feelings any more. “It’s ridiculous. If they don’t want to talk to each other, then we don’t have to make them talk. Is this not what we all wanted from the beginning? For them to stop annoying each other? To just be-- be, normal, divorced parents who talk about the welfare of their stupid child and that be it?”

“It is,” Harry acquiesced. His face turned solemn - or pitiful - all of a sudden, and he straightened up, leaning his head down slightly so he was almost looking down on Teddy. The ten months between them never felt like so many. “But… you don’t like it, Teddy. Do you?”

No. No, he really didn’t.

It was strange - for four years, all Teddy had wanted was for his parents to stop messing around like children and just be civil. It’s not that it affected him in any sort of calamitous way - sure, it had perhaps gotten a bit old having to take things back that had been stolen from one father to the other, or a bit exasperating to walk down the path of Remus’ house on Monday morning and see a new piece of shrubbery underneath the windowsill that he had definitely seen in Sirius’ garden only the night before. But it was normal. It was emotion carried between them. His parents were angry at each other, and it wasn’t ideal, but it was acknowledgement. It was bitterness that could be expelled and purged through the antagonising of each other, so that when it came to what Teddy wanted - what Teddy needed - and things that they would have to work together as a unit to achieve, they could. For him. It was acknowledgement.

Now, there was nothing. No emotions; no acknowledgement. There was no extra milk in the fridge; no more bushes and rose plants underneath the windowsill than the ones that had already been there. There were no angry calls to the other’s house. No passing mentions of “your father” this, or “your dad” that. “Mr Lupin” might not have ever even existed. 

And it was fine, for a while. It had been a bit jarring, the first week in which there was absolutely nothing - he had spent a while on his tiptoes, walking on eggshells lest one of them explode and go plunge a battering ram into the backend of the others car, or smash a window to break in and steal all of their pans (none of these things had happened before, but they had been things that Teddy had thought they weren’t fucking far from). There was just nothing. For a while, it almost felt like they had been normal, all along; that his parents could smile and nod at each other in the street without tripping each other up; that his Da could drop him off at his Dad’s and walk him to the front door, speak to his father, nod and smile in co-parental respect and go and get back into his car and have that be that. 

Remus didn’t even look out the window when Teddy left the car, now. He stared straight ahead. He didn’t blink.

And Teddy, perhaps, hadn’t realised how much he had ridden on his parents' dumbassery until their dumbassery had ceased. He had hoped that they might mature, before, but that wasn’t this. This wasn’t maturity. He had no clue what had shifted - no idea what had been the trigger for the ceasefire. All he knew was that he missed their antagonisms - he missed being able to mention one father in the presence of the other, and not have to worry about a thick silence, or the tense straightening of one of their spines at the remembrance of the other. He missed the light-heartedness of it all. He hadn’t realised how easy it had been until it had gotten hard again.

“No,” he said, now, twisting his thumbs in his lap. “I don’t like it. But there’s nothing we can do about it, Harry. It’s not our problem to fix.”

“It is if the problem is so easily solvable,” Harry said, and before Teddy got to ask him what he even meant by that, he continued; “And it is if it’s affecting you, now.”

“It’s not affecting me.”

“Have they said anything else about the dinner?” Harry asked, and Teddy felt his stomach drop.

His GCSEs were over next week, which meant formal graduation from secondary school, which meant five years of hell and incredible exam stress were over. And he had worked hard. He had worked hard enough that he had wanted to celebrate - he was proud of himself, and he had wanted to celebrate that out to dinner with the entire family (his Aunt and Uncle included) and… they wouldn’t speak to each other. The both of them were darting around it, trying to put off acknowledging having to be in the same space. And this was what was different - for his birthday had been early April, and they had gone to dinner then, and sure, they had sat at opposite sides of the table, but they had been fine - they had acknowledged each other, joked as a group about their youths, and they had not done one thing to ruin the night. The love they had for their son had been enough then. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t enough, now.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” Teddy said dismissively. “We can’t do anything about it. And besides, parent trapping them wouldn’t even work.”

“Why not?”

Teddy raised his eyebrows. “Their parents were actually still secretly in love.”

Harry frowned. “Yeah… exactly?”

“So, what do you mea--” he cut off, mouth still open, and his eyes softened in realisation before hardening into absolute indignancy. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What?” Harry said, except it came out as a laugh. Teddy’s ears flared red in slight embarrassment.

“My parents aren’t secretly still in love!” 

“Oh, they one hundred percent are,” Harry said matter-of-factly. Teddy gaped.

“They hate each other!”

“Exactly!”

“But-- but you’re saying they love each other!”

“Yeah!”

Teddy stared at him for a long, long moment. Harry waited patiently. 

“Okay, you’ve lost me. Explain.”

Harry laughed out loud and leaned forward, rubbing his hands together.

“You see, my dear Tedmeister,” he said patronisingly, and Teddy had never rolled his eyes so fucking hard; “Love is a strange, finicky thing. It’s wildly different for every person. People express it in different ways.”

Teddy scoffed. “What the hell do you know about love?”

“Hey!” Harry snapped, pointing at him angrily. “I’ve kissed Ginny Weasley.”

“Once.”

“Twice, actually,” he said smugly, and Teddy’s jaw dropped.

“When?!” he said; the conversation from before was completely lost to him in the emergence of this new, more exciting news. Harry giggled.

“The other week,” he said, lowering his voice. “I went to her house and she kissed me in her bedroom.”

Teddy gasped. “And you weren’t even drunk this time! Get fucking in!”

“I know!” he said, laughing. He leaned back on his hands and stared at a point above Teddy’s head, dazed and obviously attempting to look wiser than his years. “Ah, love. A finicky thing.”

The teenage dream scene shattered and Teddy shook the shards out of his hair.

“Stop trying to distract me!” he yelled accusatorily, and Harry laughed. “You don’t know shit about love, Harry James Potter. You’re wrong.”

“No,” Harry said, eyes glazing over slightly. “No, you’re right… but do you know who does know about love?”

Teddy narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

Harry grinned, and pointed directly down. Teddy, stupidly, followed his gesture, before realising he wasn’t pointing to the duvet they were both sitting on but, in fact, downstairs.

“Your parents?” he said. Harry nodded.

“Yesterday, my mum was sat on my dad’s knee, and she farted and he didn’t even jump, or react at all. He just let it happen,” Harry said. “If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

“You don’t know what is. That’s the whole point.”

Harry rolled his eyes and clambered over Teddy’s backpack, to his feet. “Come on, then. Let’s go ask.”

Teddy grimaced. “I- I don’t know if they’re the right people to ask, Harry,” came out of his mouth, but the older boy was already stalking with purpose out of his bedroom and calling out “Madre!” despite the fact that he did not speak a word of Spanish, and Teddy had no choice but to follow him, he supposed.

Lily was standing by the stove as a pot boiled with something that smelled sweet. She was looking at her phone, and, in the moment that they walked in, typing something with her pointer finger. She looked up and smiled.

“Hey, boys,” she said sweetly. “Tea’s not ready yet - it’ll be another half an hour, at most.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, intensely curious; Teddy stomped on his toe. “Ow--”

“Auntie Lily,” Teddy said innocently, interjecting. “We have a question. Well, Harry has a question--”

“It was your question too!” he hissed, and Teddy glared at him. Lily looked between the two, bewildered.

“Okay, mum, listen,” Harry said, deflating. “You’re in love with dad, right?”

Lily frowned, and then her eyes seemed to clear slightly. She smiled pitifully.

“Oh, love,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about that lovely Weasley girl - come on, let’s sit--”

“What? No!” Harry yelled, almost - almost - covering the sounds of Teddy’s rampant laughter. His eyes were as wide as saucers. “No, no, that’s not what this is about, mum.”

“Oh,” Lily said, deflating slightly. “Well, the offer’s open, sweetie, if you - either of you - ever want to talk about partners, and how things work… obviously to an extent, since I don’t have a--”

“MUM!” Harry yelled, almost as red as his mother’s hair. “Please stop talking!” Lily laughed.

“Of course,” she said, grinning. “What actually is it, boys?”

Teddy and Harry looked at each other nervously. Teddy nudged him, and gave him a very violent “this-was-your-fucking-idea” look. Harry swallowed.

“Okay,” he said. “We just were talking, and we wanted to ask you - since neither of us have ever been in love,” he gave her a very pointed glare, “we wanted to ask… well… if you, maybe, thought that Teddy’s parents still… were?”

Lily’s mouth fell open, slightly, and about fifty emotions flickered through her eyes before she closed it, and cleared her throat. 

“Er--” she started, frowning slightly. “I don’t-- I don’t really think that’s for me to be discussing with you boys, honestly.”

“So they are?” Harry said hopefully, and she shot him a mum glare.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I’m saying-- well, this is their private lives. I’m not going to start talking about private things in front of,” she gestured to Teddy. “It’s not for you boys to be thinking of, okay? They’re not together anymore, and that’s that.”

Harry frowned, and Teddy turned to him to tell him to let it go just as he opened his mouth - but all three of them were interrupted by the opening and closing of the front door.

“Ooh, something smells good,” James Potter called happily from the hall, and in a minute the kitchen door was opening and there he was, shoes off, coat slung over his forearm and backpack on his back. He groaned as he threw his coat on the back of a chair, and shrugged his backpack off, hauling it onto the table like it was full of bricks. “Hello, family.”

“Hi, Dad,” Harry said, at the same time Teddy said “Hi, Uncle James.” Harry cleared his throat.

“Dad,” he said, quickly and forcefully. James grunted in acknowledgement, opening his bag and rummaging in there for something.

“Harry,” Lily warned. Teddy turned to him and glared. Harry, of course, being 75% his father, after all, did not listen.

“Dad, do you think that Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius are still in love?” he said. James paused, raised an eyebrow, and then scoffed.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he said, pulling out the notebook that he had, apparently, been looking for. “Without a doubt.”

Teddy’s jaw dropped open.

“James!” Lily hissed, and he froze all over immediately, eyes flickering up to his angry wife. He gaped.

“Was I not… was I not supposed to-”

“For God’s sake,” Lily mumbled, letting her head fall into her hands. James grinned sheepishly, and Teddy managed a grimace back in his shock. Harry was grinning in triumph.

“Ah-- crap, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m just being loony, Ted, that’s all. They’re not in love. They hate each other. Really despise--”

“Not. Helping.” Lily glared at him again, and he thinned his lips into an intent line.

“Right,” he said. “Well. I’m gonna shut up.”

“That might be best,” Harry said patronisingly, and Lily turned and whacked him lightly on the arm with a tea towel. 

“You be quiet, too!” she chirped, looking incredibly overbearing despite the fact that her son was almost a whole head taller than her. He closed his mouth immediately.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” Teddy found himself saying, and Lily frowned and reached out to rest two hands on his shoulders. She sighed.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to be worrying about these things right now. This isn’t your business,” she shot a pointed glare over his shoulder to James and Harry, but it softened when she returned to him, “and it’s not up to you to try and get them to cooperate by figuring out why they… aren’t.”

Teddy let out a slow, laboured breath. “So… it’s true then?”

Lily sighed.

“You have to understand, love, that your parents were… well, they were everything to each other,” she said softly. “That kind of love doesn’t just… go away.”

“So, why can’t they just get back together?” Teddy grumbled. “It would make things a lot easier.”

Lily smiled. “There’s nothing easy about them at all. They… need each other, on a level that even James and I don’t really reach. But they also just didn’t work, in the end. There’s a fine line between love and hate, and, unfortunately, they’re on it.”

“I don’t care if they love each other,” Teddy said, petulantly, finding that it was actually true. “They can hate or love each other however they want, I just want them to be… civil. I want them to love me enough to tolerate each other, and they don’t even do that anymore.”

Lily’s gaze hardened. She bit her lip and gripped Teddy’s shoulders harder.

“They love you so much,” she said, firmly. “Okay? More than anything. More than the world. There is nothing they wouldn’t do for you.”

“Except go to dinner together, apparently.”

Her face softened in realisation. “They’re not going?”

“I don’t know,” he said, sadly. “They’re both dodging my questions, but I know one of them will end up pulling out. They don’t even refer to each other anymore. Da treats my weekends like they’re sleepovers with my friends, or something. I just--” he sighed, avoiding his Aunt’s eye, lest he do something fucking stupid like cry. “I just want it back to how it used to be.”

Lily stared at him for a moment, and took a long, laborious breath; in and out. She closed her eyes, and opened them, and a decision had been made.

“Okay,” she said lightly, giving Teddy’s shoulders one last squeeze before bustling back over to the stove. She stirred the pot soundlessly. “About fifteen minutes left on this, I believe. We’re all going to eat dinner together. And then I’m going to go out for an hour or so.” She turned to look at her nephew, whose face was slightly forlorn, and smiled. “Teddy, make sure the house doesn’t burn down. You’re the only person in this family who isn’t an utter moron.”

He smiled, finally, and Harry and James’ acclamations didn’t even reach her ears.

***

“Sirius Black, you fucking wankstain.” 

Lily scowled, pushing past him and slamming Sirius’ front door (that she had just almost demolished - her tiny fist should never be underestimated) behind her before he even got a word out. Sirius gaped.

“Okay— I’m sure you’re right,” he said, desperately, following her as she paced into the living room. “But just remind me what I did this time?”

She whirled on him, eyes blazing, and Sirius actually took a step back.

“You’re not going to go to Teddy’s dinner next Thursday, are you?”

Dread trickled down his spine and into his stomach - in his shock, he actually laughed.

“I-- well, I think I’m working--”

“Not good enough,” Lily said. “You can get it off.”

“Well, I was going to take him out myself,” Sirius explained. “That weekend. Go down to the pier-- on the rides-”

“No,” Lily said. “Your son wants you to go on Thursday. So why aren’t you going on Thursday?”

“I never said I wasn’t going.”

“But you know you’re not,” she said, lip curling cruelly. “You are so against the idea that even your son has picked up that you don’t want to go. So, answer the question. Why?”

Sirius swallowed. “Look, Lily--”

“No, you know what,” she said. “I can answer it for you. It’s because you’re a coward.”

Sirius felt a sharp jab of pain in the hollow of his chest; his mouth fell open.

“Hey!”

“You’re a coward,” she repeated, “Because you know that Remus has Teddy on Thursday’s, and so you know that he won’t be the one to pull out of it. He’s going to go, and so you’re not. You’re not going to celebrate your amazing son’s fucking hard work - the stress he’s been under, the relief that he’s done - because you’re a coward, and you can’t face your ex. Your son, Sirius.”

Lily put her hands on her hips, frowning at him. He took a moment to swallow the guilt coming up his throat, but it didn’t seem to want to go down. And his defence mechanisms weren’t coming up, either. His tear ducts throbbed slightly.

She softened, slightly, at his demeanour, but her anger did not ebb. This was bigger than him - Sirius knew it. He was a coward. They both were.

“I can’t,” Sirius breathed, voice thick with unspoken emotion. “See him. I don’t-- I can’t even think about him anymore, Lil. It’s too painful.”

She let out a long, long breath. Her face did not change.

“You know what’s painful?” she said, quieter but still laced with harsh reality. “The fact that your son doesn’t think that you love him enough to be able to tolerate each other. And that’s verbatim. Fucking verbatim.”

His tears broke their bonds and fell down onto Sirius’ cheeks, simultaneously, like a switch had been flicked. He gaped.

“You can’t think--” he croaked, shaking his head painfully. “I mean- I’d do anything--”

“Of course you would,” Lily said, dismissively. She sat down on the sofa and Sirius followed her, feeling more like it was his legs giving out than an actual conscious action. “I know that, you buffoon. But that’s what he thinks. And if you don’t show up on Thursday you’re just going to make him think that he’s right.”

Sirius said nothing. Just stared into his lap and let silent tears fall onto his palms.

“Look at me,” Lily commanded, and he did. “You told us, right at the beginning, before the divorce was even finalised; you told us that it wouldn’t affect him. You told us that you could handle it. And you have. Whatever the hell you’ve been doing to each other - whatever the hell possessed you both to seek each other out, time and time again - that has been on you. That is not his fault. And you’ve done a great job of balancing it, but this is not balance anymore. This is affecting your son.”

“Lily--”

“I’m not done,” she said. “Whether you love him more than a thousand suns or hate him deeper than the fucking Pacific, that is your business, and you cannot let your disdain transcend onto your child. I’m not going to be gentle with you, Sirius, when your childishness has started to genuinely affect an innocent sixteen-year-old. He doesn’t deserve this. He has never deserved it.”

“I know,” Sirius said, smaller than he had ever been. “I know.”

Lily sighed, and reached out to grip his hands. She laced their fingers together easily, and rubbed a cautious thumb over the skin of his knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius breathed.

“Don’t say that to me,” Lily said. “Tell him that. Tell him you’ll be there. Be the supportive dad that I know you are, because your child comes first. Always. No matter how angry you feel at the other half of him.”

“You know it’s more than that, right?” he whispered, gripping onto her hand like it was a lifeline. “You know that I…” he trailed off, looking up at her through blurry eyes. She frowned in sympathy.

“I know,” she said softly. “But… I don’t think you do.”

He looked up at her, and he knew immediately that she was right.

What the hell would he have finished that sentence with? Love? Hate? Want? Need? What useless, simple word, what amalgamation of letters could possibly draw together all of the different emotions that Sirius felt when thinking of Remus Lupin? Nothing could explain it. Nothing could describe the pain in Sirius’ chest, besides perhaps a victim of a knife wound, stabbed right through the middle of his chest, betrayed by their lover; twisted mercilessly until he was a puppet, a writhing, shell of a thing at that one person's beck and call for eternity. He couldn’t explain it himself; he didn’t know what love was. His emotions processed through his system and manifested themselves into anger, only anger, that was all he knew how to feel for Remus because if he felt anything more or anything less the world would be thrown into imbalance; shifted on its hinges, like Sirius’ door at the wrath of Lily’s fist. His ability to feel anything other than petty anger had died the moment he had signed the divorce papers; lying in a hollow coffin under an overgrown grave that no one has come to care for, screaming to be let out. 

But it was more than what meets the eye. A blind, unyielding devotion. A desideratum for his attention. A flow of consciousness that could not be broken, a melancholic tune shared between two ears, two brains, four hands, one soul - yes, that was it. They were one soul - one broken, battered soul, waiting for retribution that would never come. And yet something had shifted, that evening, in Remus’ classroom; and all of the cells in Sirius’ body were screaming, all of a sudden, like four years of withdrawal had caught up to them all at once, and writhing in the pain was all that he knew - was all that could be done, the only option that was available - in avoidance of skipping down a road that was arched with golden lighting, a road accentuated with yellow bricks. A road that would lead to ruin.

A stupid metaphor, really. The yellow brick road led to magic, and they were not magic; not anymore.

They were something, though. They had been something indeed.

Lily groaned softly and shuffled across, pulling her hands out of Sirius’ grasp and wrapping them, instead, around his body, and he let himself move to her will. His head fell forward, onto her chest, arms wrapped around her waist. She stroked his hair, pushing back the bits that fell over his face.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be gentle with me?” he said, quietly, and he felt her chuckle.

“I’ve said what I needed to say, and you’ve heard what you needed to hear,” she said. “That’s enough.”

“And you’ve spoken, already? To… him?”

She sighed. “Yes. It was a tad easier, because I knew it would be you and not him to break Teddy’s heart. He’s more stubborn than you, though.”

He frowned and sat up. Lily wiped his tears gently. “How?”

She shrugged. “He won’t admit that he feels anything.”

Sirius was thrown back, then, to eighteen years - eighteen years with Remus as his big love. Eighteen years of knowing him, back to front, inside and out, to the moon and the stars and fucking Jupiter and back again.

“He doesn’t say anything, but he feels everything.” 

Lily nodded.

“There you go,” she said, and then paused. “I think you still know him better than you think you do, Sirius.”

He sniffed and frowned. “What?”

“You can find common ground,” she said. “Eventually. I think… I think you can figure this out together.”

“We can’t do anything together.”

Lily hummed. “I don’t know… you raised a pretty cool kid together.”

Sirius stared at her, and the smile was on his face before he even registered it was coming. He wiped his nose and nodded. “Yeah… yeah, we did, didn’t we?”

“A kid who needs you both.”

“A kid who needs us both,” Sirius repeated, like machinery, and Lily smiled at him. They sat together for a long, tender moment, and then she got up; brushed herself off.

“Right,” she said, as Sirius stood with her. “I have to get home. Three boys plus a newly tidy house equals big mess when I return.”

Sirius laughed. “Godspeed. Tell James I miss him.”

“He’s coming this weekend, I think.”

He smiled, again, and nodded. “Good.”

Lily made her way to the door, and Sirius started walking to follow her out. He was halfway there when something caught his eye - something pulled him back. A tugging sensation in his abdomen. He opened the drawer, and there they were. There they were.

“Lily?” he called, and she hummed in acknowledgement. When he didn’t reply, she came in behind him.

“Can you--” Sirius started, still looking at the picture; he took one, two breaths in, and then picked it up. Flipped it over. He didn’t want to see. “Can you take this?”

He handed it to her, and her expression did not flicker as she looked at it. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just,” Sirius started. “Burn it. Throw it out. Cut it in half, or something.”

Lily sighed, and looked at the picture once more. Her thumb smoothed over a part of it, and Sirius couldn’t see, but he had looked at it so much in the past two months that he knew she was tracing Remus’ happy, young face, for he had done exactly the same thing. Time and time again.

She licked her lips. “I don’t think you actually want me to do any of those things,” she said, gently. “Do you?”

Sirius’ breath hitched; and then released. He found it awfully strange to be able to breathe so easily.

He smiled, but it was only sadness.

“No,” he said, chuckling dryly. “No, you know; I don’t think I do.”

She departed with promises to hold onto it, and Sirius sat down on the sofa when she was gone feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time. The burn marks of Remus’ fingers on his wrist were gone. And the burn marks on his heart were tame; agreeable, maybe. 

They were something, alright.

***

Remus had booked in for 6pm at Teddy’s favourite local Italian restaurant in town. Sirius parked in the nearest car park at 5:45, paying his £2 for the ticket to avoid a ticket. He set off walking, sticking his hands in his pockets to fend off the chill that had started to nip at him, even though it was literally June. Perhaps it was his nerves.

Teddy’s last exam had been earlier that day. He had called Sirius rather enthusiastically after he finished, at about 3pm, and he had congratulated him greatly and made sure to remind him how proud he was (he really, really was) of him, and that whatever he got in his results he would still be fucking amazing; although that wasn’t something to worry about right now, really, and that now he should just focus on the fact that he’s done. Teddy asked if he would see him tonight, and Sirius affirmed, again, that he would. They had only been calling, but the smile Sirius could hear in his voice had made everything - all of the anxiety he felt surrounding Remus - worth it. Everything.

It was stupid. He felt like he was describing a lot of his life as stupid, lately, but this truly was. You would think that they had only gotten divorced this year. You would think that Remus was a fresh ex - that Remus had cheated on him, or left him; broke his heart into a million tiny little pieces and burnt the shreds that clung on until there was nothing left. 

Not that that hadn’t happened, but it wasn’t Remus’ fault entirely. His heart had simply wilted of its own accord. Shock, maybe. Regardless, it had been wilting for four years. He was not a young, youthful man in his twenties, who had fallen deeply in love and had swiftly had his heart broken and was now facing his ex. So why did it feel like that? Why did it feel fresh?

It was like Sirius had scars, and they had all burst open simultaneously the moment Remus had touched him again. It was like everything that he had been repressing had come bursting to the surface, spluttering and gasping for air, for release. Remus had a scar over his cheekbone. It was lovely. Sirius had traced the tips of his fingers; the tip of his tongue; over it, time and time again. That one hadn’t burst open, but he almost wished it had - he almost wished to walk in there and see a physical manifestation of the sadness that he felt inwardly. Anything to see Remus’ everything. Anything to grip it again.

Remus had known he was coming, but it didn’t stop him from staring when he arrived.

“Dad!” Teddy said with a huge smile, and Sirius kickstarted into an average dad jog to make his way over to the group of them - they were all there, all five of them - standing outside the restaurant. He engulfed Teddy into a hug, and he didn’t even pretend to hate it.

“Oh, hello, you legend,” he said, and Teddy laughed into his chest. “You absolute man. You made Physics your bitch, didn’t you?”

“Sirius,” Lily scolded. Remus was looking anywhere but at him. James grinned.

“He did, though,” the teacher said, and Sirius laughed, patting his son on the back and pulling away to bring James into a half-hug. It had only been four days, but the hug was dearly needed.

He hugged Harry, afterwards - the fucking kid was almost taller than him, it was disgraceful - and Lily came up after, giving him a warm smile. She had a red lip on; she looked beautiful.

“You okay?” she whispered into his ear as he hugged her. He nodded, enough so that she could feel. They pulled back.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, admiring her makeup and her green dress. Her lips matched her hair; her dress matched her eyes.

“Doesn’t she just,” James said, pulling her by the wrist towards him - Harry and Teddy groaned at the public display of affection, and the gap where Lily had been in Sirius’ vision was now empty, and filled with one Remus Lupin, who had been standing behind her.

He looked at Sirius, and god, he wished he could read him. He was an enigma. Sirius let him speak first.

“Hi,” Remus said; no higher than a breath. He spared a tight smile for him, and Sirius felt the flames of misery lick up the walls of his throat once more.

“Hey,” he said back. He swallowed, and watched Remus do the exact same. They were always strange mirrors of each other. For a moment, all he could see was him.

Remus jumped at a loud noise, and Sirius tore his head away - James had Harry in a jokey headlock, ruffling his already ridiculously messy hair. His glasses slid off his face and Lily caught them with ease.

“You’re embarrassing us,” she said to her husband; but the curve of her lips were upturned. James let his son go, both of them laughing, and he pulled her in; kissed the side of her head.

“You love it,” he said, and Harry and Teddy ‘eww’-ed again, and the clock struck six - they went inside.

The restaurant was lovely. It was warm, and intimate - there were lights strewn across the high of the walls like bunting; beautiful paintings on the wall, every colour imaginable swirled together and released. They had been coming here for years - since Teddy was a child - but it never really got old to Sirius. He sat in the corner, Teddy beside him and Harry, in turn, beside him; James sat in front of him, Lily in front of Sirius, and Remus sat in the middle. Ahead and diagonal. 

They fell into, more-or-less, easy conversation as they waited for the drinks to arrive. Teddy relayed, yet again, the story of how his last Physics paper had gone incredibly well, and that everything he had studied had been on it - this was, of course, mostly to James, but Remus and Sirius emanated proud parents and Lily was the sweetheart she always was and congratulated him again, and again. They spoke about his final art piece - it had been a painted portrait of one of his friends, Victoire, and it was beautiful. All of them had, of course, seen it on multiple occasions, but when Remus brought up the picture on his phone and passed it around all of them took the time to ooh and ahh and compliment him - in Sirius’ case, extravagantly, because he was in fact the father who thought his kid was the best kid in the fucking world and was not ashamed to admit it.

Harry brought up the bowling incident - he and Teddy dissolved into laughter yet a-fucking-gain and it was Sirius who had to relay the story to the three adults opposite him (who hadn’t actually ever heard it) of how he fell flat on his ass. Remus watched him attentively as he told the story, and if Sirius tried his absolute best to avoid his eyes lest he forget what he was saying, what he was doing, what his name was, well, could you blame him?

They all laughed, anyway. They were a raucous table. Their stories bled into the time James had dropped his entire meal in the middle of McDonalds; when Harry had fallen up the stairs at an assembly, in front of his entire school year and the year below (Teddy had been there. It had been the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life - verbatim).

Teddy started teasing Harry about some girl called Ginny, and they fell into angry, hushed whispers that the adults didn’t seem to be a part of. Lily looked at him, and then turned to look at Remus, and James (who was trying desperately to eavesdrop on his son and nephew) with a warm, somewhat nostalgic smile.

Remus raised an eyebrow, but it was Sirius who spoke.

“What?” he said, halfway to a laugh. He felt Remus’ eyes on him, but he looked pointedly at Lily.

She shrugged. “Just happy.”

Remus turned to her. His eyes moved from Sirius; Sirius’ eyes moved to him. His lip was quirked up in some semblance of a smirk at her.

“Happy?” he said, and she nodded.

“I’m just,” she said, somewhat dreamily, “really proud of us. All of us.”

Remus looked at Sirius, and he immediately looked away.

“I’m proud of us, too,” he heard Remus say, after a moment. His eyes hadn’t moved.

Whatever conversation they were about to launch into - whatever twist Remus was about to spin on his soul - did not come to be, as the drinks came. The waiter deposited a bottle of rosé in the middle of the table, with four full glasses for the adults, and two Diet Coke’s for Harry and Teddy. Sirius went to sip his immediately - god knows he needed it - but James stopped him.

“Ah-ah!” he said, holding a hand up; everyone’s drinks halted halfway to their mouths. “We have to do a toast.”

Sirius grunted and lowered his glass, slightly, waiting on James - who was eyeing everyone and making sure they were listening to him. When he was appeased, he raised his glass.

“To Teddy,” he said, and they all raised their own glasses in turn - Teddy flushed slightly red. “For how hard he’s been working, how amazing he’s done, and how absolutely brilliant of a guy he’s grown up to be.”

“To Teddy!” everybody echoed; glasses clinked all around, one body in the centre of the table.

Teddy smiled, flustered, and Sirius nudged him, slightly, with his shoulder. He looked at him and Sirius shot him a dazzling grin. 

“Love you,” he mouthed, and Teddy scoffed, embarrassed, but Sirius saw he was full of love; bursting from it, perhaps, and in a sudden moment of clarity he couldn’t believe that this boy could ever be sad, or think that his parents wouldn’t move absolute mountains for him and beyond. He hated himself for even contemplating not coming. Anything for his boy.

He looked forward, again, to see Remus was watching them both; there was a light smile playing on his lips. Again, no words could be spoken, for at that moment after they had all taken a sip Lily cleared her throat and raised her glass, again.

“Toast number two,” she said, clearly; “to Remus and Sirius. For doing such an amazing job raising a brilliant young man, even if there were hitches along the way.”

And for a moment, the air was sucked out of the room and Sirius couldn’t seem to breathe.

In, and out, and everyone raised their glasses confidently; he couldn’t meet Remus’ eye; and said “to Remus and Sirius!”; and he still couldn’t meet Remus’ eye; and his glass clinked a bit too violently onto another and a bit of wine spilt onto his hand and it was only then that he met Remus’ eye, when his wine trickled cold down his wrist and cold down Remus’, too.

“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry,” he said, hastily, pulling out his serviette from underneath his cutlery and dabbing his own wrist, and then, before he even gave himself chance to think about it, dabbing Remus’ too. His fingers held daintily onto the very low of Remus’ palm and he gripped and flipped his hand over - where it was still suspended in mid air, holding his glass - and he captured all of the trickles of wine softly as they fell, all the way to the collar of his shirt, halfway down his forearm. His shirts were always too short, but Sirius sure as hell wasn’t complaining, now. 

Remus’ hand tensed, and then untensed, around his touch.

“It’s okay, Sirius,” he said, half with a laugh - of surprise, he supposed. Sirius paused with a sharp intake of breath, realising just what he was doing, exactly; he pulled back, letting his hand go without movement, and smiled sheepishly down to the table. Remus pulled his arm back, but only slightly. 

The restaurant seemed to press play; Lily was silent, trapped in the middle of them, but James and Harry had fallen into oblivious conversation about football; there was a baby crying halfway across the room, and someone singing Happy Birthday to someone else at a different table. Sirius didn’t look up - it must’ve been about four seconds, maybe less, but it felt like a millennia - until a glass was deposited in front of him, touching where his fingertips rested.

He lifted his head, and Remus was retracting his hand - Sirius had left his glass halfway across the table when he had spilled the wine - and he had his own glass, raised and cocked in their direction. He was looking between his ex-husband and their son. Sirius gripped his fingers around the base of his glass and raised his own, too, mirrored with his son.

“To us,” Remus said, quietly; softly. He leaned in and the three of their glasses clinked together, like a triangle complete with all three of its sides; Remus, Sirius, Teddy; and Remus was looking with equal fervour between the two of them, a smile growing on his face. 

And for a moment, they felt like a family again. 

Just a moment. A lovely moment.

“To us,” Sirius repeated, turning back from where he had turned to look at his son and locking eyes with Remus, and there it was again. The heat. The burning in the back of his throat. He brought his glass to his mouth to satiate it, watching as Remus did exactly the same; watching, watching, watching.

And as the liquid poured red and hot down his throat so did any part of him that ever doubted that he wouldn’t take this man back in a heartbeat, no question. 

So did any part of him that thought they could ever stay away from each other.

And Remus’ lips around the rim of his glass might just drive him fucking crazy, but he was familiar with crazy. 

He welcomed it.

***

The night ran smoothly; as smooth as possible, given Sirius’ impending mental breakdown.

It obviously wasn’t perfect. There was a slight cold air - sometimes Sirius made a slightly distasteful remark, or something was brought up that dunked the cold waters of reality onto them and reminded them of the facts. Yes, they were divorced. Yes, they couldn’t stand each other. Yes, Sirius wanted to do unspeakable things to him - so fucking what?

Remus’ exeunt came out of nowhere, really. Perhaps there had been something impending that Sirius hadn’t noticed. They were about at the end of their main courses - Sirius had finished his pasta, and Teddy was, as of current, scoffing the last two pieces of his pizza (spurred on by Harry, who had proclaimed that he was a ‘pussy’ and wouldn’t finish it.) Remus cleared his throat, and his chair scraped across the floor with a deafening groan as he got up.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said, blithely, and then set off; Sirius turned and watched him go, following him all the way past the entrance to the loos, through the restaurant and out the front door.

He turned to Lily, and Lily was looking at him.

“I’ll go,” she said, quietly; Sirius watched as she pulled her own chair out, soundlessly and with care this time, and then he reached out and put a hand on her wrist. She paused.

“No,” he said, “I’ll go.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said, and oop, he was already up, now, and what could Lily do?

“If it’s not fine--” she warned, but he was pushing his chair in.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, and he turned and started to walk.

Why had he done that? Why did he do a lot of things? He didn’t know. All he knew was three months of not interacting with Remus in any way, shape or form had, apparently, taken a toll, and he wanted to see him. He just wanted to look at him. He wanted to pick out the parts of his Remus that were beneath the shell of this stranger that he didn’t know anymore. He wanted to erode it and see what was underneath.

He walked outside, and Remus was nowhere to be seen. He frowned.

The right side of the restaurant had no exit point - it was a part of a long block of collected shops and establishments, all the way up the narrow street. The left side, however, was connected to a small family-owned store and then, beside it, was an opening to an alleyway.

Bingo.

And there we go. Remus Lupin was leaning against the brick wall, unlit fag perched idly his mouth. His brows were knitted tightly together, and his pockets were inside out.

“I thought you quit,” Sirius said, from three paces away, and Remus jumped. He turned to look at him, and his gaze morphed into an eyeroll. Sirius was unperturbed.

He pulled the fag out of his mouth and held it between two fingers. “And I thought your eyesight was ‘just as good as it was when you were twenty’.”

Sirius blinked, and then let out a bark of surprised laughter. “Okay, I was living in denial. What’s your excuse?”

Remus huffed, aggressively. Sirius took a step forward. He did not answer.

“Have you got a light?” he said, irritably. Sirius paused, and dug into his pocket.

“Here,” he breathed, pulling the lighter out from the deep of his left pocket. Remus sighed in relief and popped the fag into his mouth, and… this was where things went awry, slightly.

For neither of them did what should be expected. Remus did not hold a hand out for the lighter, and Sirius did not offer it. It was as if time had stood still, and then turned backwards twenty years. And they were eighteen. And Remus did not have a lighter, then, and so Sirius lit it for him. It was clockwork. They did not folly around with handing each other things. Any excuse to get close, he had thought then, just as he thought now, at the very back of his mind. 

Of course, the forefront of his consciousness was a haze; the forefront was working on fumes and pure instinct, and Remus did not object, so Sirius did not back down. And he was in front of him - directly in front of him, as close as they had been back in that fucking classroom. 

Remus focused on the light, bringing his hands up to cup it, and Sirius brought his own up and, with a click, flicked the flame into play.

It was a shift. The flame was warm against his finger. Remus’ eyes were locked on the cigarette, and Sirius’ eyes were locked on Remus; how many times had they been, tonight? Would he ever get enough of him? Could there ever be a day where Sirius Black would be able to look at Remus Lupin without his heart swimming up to his throat? His fingertips tingling with the want - no, the need. Oh, god, he was a tragedy. He would never get enough of him, and Remus would never give him more, and so he would spend the rest of his life trying to drink out of a murky stream that led to a divine ocean. And he, somehow, in the past four years of ruckus and destruction, had made his peace with that.

Remus looked up at him.

It was like something had fallen over them; like a curtain separated them from the rest of the world. Nobody else existed. His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled, and Sirius let his thumb slack on the lighter. The flame dissipated, but Remus’ eyes did not move.

Sirius swallowed.

Remus brought his hand up and pulled the cigarette from his mouth. Smoke swirled from his mouth like silk.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, face contorting slightly. He broke eye contact and looked down. 

“Like what?” Sirius asked. His own eyes flickered down, except only as far as the pit of his throat; a mole that he had kissed a million times. A scar that he had trailed around with his fingernail. Skin that he had bruised, and bruised, and bruised again. 

Remus’ eyes trailed back up to his, and they pulled Sirius’ with him; he had him in the palm of his hands, both of his hands, just like he had in the picture except this time he was gripping him, and shaking him into sense that he did not possess. Sirius had always moulded around his will. He was putty in his hands. 

Remus attempted a smile, but it was just sadness.

“Like we wouldn’t ruin each other all over again,” he whispered, and the smoke from his cigarette poured into Sirius’ nose, down his throat, and he was choking. He was an open book. Remus always knew how to read him better than Sirius could read himself.

“I’m not--”

“You can’t—“ Remus whispered, taking a step back. Sirius took a step in turn with him - absolute force of habit - and so Remus took another one. He shook his head. “You can’t do this to me, Sirius, because I’ll fall for it. I fall for it every single fucking time.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Yes,” Remus laughed brokenly. “Yes, it would, because I can’t go through that again. It would break me.”

Sirius took another step forward. It was just short of a plea.

“We don’t have to end like that,” he said, but Remus was shaking his head, again, sadly. He smiled, but it was only pity holding his features together.

“Don’t you see?” he said, quietly. “We already did end like that.”

There was no sound. Nothing. Just air, buzzing beneath their fingertips. Remus sighed.

“And I can’t do it again,” he said. “Because I needed you more than you needed me, and I spent four years learning how to not need you, and I wouldn’t survive it.”

Oh, and there it was. The rage. White hot. Sirius’ vision pooled with red, like the drops of wine blotted onto his serviette.

“Do you seriously believe that?” he said, voice rising but only slightly. Remus straightened up, preparing for attack, and Sirius’ eyes glinted grey. 

Oh, yes, baby, he thought. Your senses are right. And I don’t want to fight, either, my love, but you’ve given me no choice. 

He seethed. “Are you that selfish that you think you were the only one who suffered? I didn’t leave you, Remus, we left each other.”

“I didn’t mean that--”

“No,” Sirius said. “Let me speak. Do you think you loved me more than I loved you? Is that what you’re insinuating?”

“No.”

“You were the centre of my fucking universe, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Remus said, and his voice broke. “I know.”

“You can’t--” Sirius started, huffing with anger and devastation; his voice broke too. He ran his fingers through his hair, let the front pieces fall forward again, carve his jaw. Remus’ face crumpled. “I mean-- what right do you have to tell me how I loved you? When you were the one who gave it up?”

“That’s not fair,” Remus said, low and thick with unshed tears. He shook his head. “You gave it up too.”

“You had the last word,” Sirius whispered; and he knew, in the shimmer of Remus’ eye; the falling of his tears, finally; that they were thinking of the exact same memory. Thinking about the exact same six words.

“And how can you tell me that you needed me more?” Sirius breathed. Remus’ bottom lip trembled. His cigarette had gone out. “How can you tell me that, when I needed you more than I needed anything in the fucking world?”

He gasped, finding himself choked up, too. He swallowed down the red. His words were barely breaths.

“And I still do,” he choked. Remus let out a low sob, and something broke clean in half deep inside Sirius’ chest. “I still fucking do.”

God damn you, Remus fucking Lupin. God fucking damn you to hell and back, I’m still in love with you. I always was. I always will be. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He was quite positive that he had not moved; that Remus had been the one to take the two steps. He was quite positive that it had been Remus who had wrapped his arms around him, first; pulled him into his chest as he sobbed, broken and free. It had been Remus’ shaky breath that he had felt turbulating the chest he was pressed up against; it had been Remus’ heartbeat that he had heard, his heartbeat that he had regulated his breathing to until he was a little less mess and a little more man. Crying in the arms of his ex husband. Remus pressed a kiss to the side of his head, and if he wasn’t broken in half before, that was the final blow.

“I need you, too,” Remus whispered, once Sirius had calmed down. He pulled himself away from Remus’ chest - eyes still slightly blurry - and knocked their foreheads together. Inhale. Exhale. His palms were gripping the collar of Remus’ shirt like it was the only thing anchoring him to the planet.

“I thought you said you didn’t anymore,” he said, hoarsely, and Remus squeezed his hands into Sirius’ shoulders with a breath of sharp laughter.

“I said I was learning,” he said humorously. “I never said I succeeded. What the hell do you think the past four years have been?”

“Hell. That. Exactly.”

Remus laughed, and Sirius wanted it as a ringtone; he wanted it as a perfume. He wanted it everywhere he went.

“We can’t be what we were,” Remus said. 

Sirius refused to open his eyes, because if he opened his eyes then this moment would end. Remus’ breath against his face again was a marvel. A wonder. He could write fifty poems about it.

“But we can’t stay what we are,” he muttered, eventually. Eyes still closed. “The past two months weren’t working any more than the past four years.”

“I know.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

“I know.”

Remus pushed him back, creating adequate space between them - still enough for Sirius to count every freckle on his face, every wrinkle around his eye - and sighed.

“But that kid in there?” Remus said, and Sirius sniffed and nodded. “That kid is the best thing that has ever happened to either of us. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Without a doubt.”

“And he needs us to be more than-- more than ghosts to each other. Now more than ever.”

“I know.” He nodded sharply. “I know.”

“So,” Remus said; his hands were still on Sirius’ shoulders, and they were welcome to stay there forever. A full, lit cigarette lay on the floor between their feet. “We have to-- we have to figure out a way to be… to be--”

“Friends?” Sirius offered, and Remus took one look at him and burst into laughter.

“God,” he wheezed. “How the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“We’ve done it before.”

Remus scoffed. “Yeah, from eleven to sixteen.”

“Eh,” Sirius shrugged. “I believe in us.”

“You’re delusional,” Remus said, matter-of-factly. He dropped his arms from Sirius, and he felt the absence primly. “Friends are supposed to like each other, anyway, and I don’t particularly like you.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, and Remus’ face faltered, slightly, as he leaned against the wall.

“Joke,” he said. “Sorry. Bad timing.” Sirius laughed, and he loosened up.

He leaned against the wall beside him, and took a deep breath, staring at nothing in particular. They lapsed into silence for a moment, and then Sirius turned to look at him.

“You used to like me, though,” he said softly. “Once upon a time.”

Remus rolled his head around to look at him. His expression was soft.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I did. Once upon a time.”

Sirius held his gaze, for one, two, five seconds; Remus took a slow breath in, eyes flickering down to his lips and back again.

Remus blinked. And then he groaned, and pushed himself off the wall.

“God, Sirius,” he whined through gritted teeth. “Stop looking at me like that!”

Sirius gaped, before bubbling into laughter. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes, you did,” Remus said, pointing at him dangerously; he put his head heavily into his hands, rubbing his forehead and smoothing his hair over and around with his palms, but Sirius didn’t miss the way his lips quirked, slightly. “Fuck. We’ve been out here for too long. I need to go back inside.”

“I’ll come too.”

Remus held up a hand, and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Just…” he started nervously. “Give it a minute, or so, before you follow. You kind of look high. Or… well, like you’ve been crying for ten minutes.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Well, I fucking wonder--” he muttered, and Remus let out a deep exhale and turned on his heel, back to the restaurant.

Sirius let him get to the end of the alley before stopping him.

“Remus!” 

He twirled around almost instantly, frowning. 

“What?” he hissed. Sirius smiled sheepishly.

“Pass us a fag,” he said, and Remus raised both his eyebrows. He widened his eyes. “What? I never claimed to quit.”

“God, I hate you,” Remus muttered, pulling out his packet and throwing him a cigarette; Sirius caught it with glee. He smiled, and Remus turned and was around the corner in a second.

No, Sirius thought, as he cupped his fag and lit it himself. No, I don’t think you do, actually.

Remus, Sirius and Teddy used to go on holiday in the last week of July.

It didn’t have to be abroad. Even despite Sirius’ inheritance, a teacher’s and a barman’s salary was not enough for extravagant trips to France or Spain or Italy every year. Sometimes it would just be up the coast. Cornwall. Edinburgh. Northumberland. The United Kingdom was a gorgeous place, if you found the right spots.

Malham Cove. Holy Island. The Yorkshire Dales. Tintagel Castle.

It was safe to say that these holidays fizzled out when Teddy was twelve. His parents got divorced in the winter. It was cold, and daunting, and the snow fell lightly on the living room windowsill as they sat him down, told him that they loved him but that they weren’t going to be together anymore. 

And July became painful. School would end and Teddy could just taste the past. It didn’t help that every single year his parents made an effort to plan holidays on the exact same day. 

Every. Year. 

It never got away from them - they never put Teddy in the position where he had to make a choice, the choice was made between the two of them (it ended up being that one of them would get the end of July one year, and the other would get it the next. The first week of August started tasting familiar to Teddy, too.) But it still hurt a little.

It was simply the stubbornity to change. It irritated Teddy to no end once he grew a little bit and actually began to understand. If they were both this fucking stubborn to change, why get divorced in the first place? Why change everything and then refuse to change anything?

It was almost three weeks after his dinner - mid-July, sweet sunshine - when he realised, for the first time in four years, that change was afoot. Real, tangible change. 

It was Friday, and Remus was dropping him off to Sirius’ for the weekend, as they had every week for four years. It had been a weird three weeks - sort of liminal, in stasis. It was like a breath being held. It was a strange mixture of before and after; they were less cautious referring to each other, more blasé about the other’s existence. Teddy had gotten slacker with his mentioning of the other. It was rather relieving, actually, but he wasn’t entirely sure where that meant they stood. 

(He tried not to care - he really, really did - but Harry’s enthusiasm about his parents ‘secret love’ had rubbed off on him, slightly, and he had been looking out for tells on their faces. And, well, if he was being ridiculously nosy into things that weren’t his business, blame Sirius Black - that’s who he got it from.)

Regardless, Teddy was simply going with the wind. This was how it was, now; that was what it had been before; if what it was before were to come back, then he would live with that. If it would stay like this, then he supposed that was okay, too.

What he absolutely hadn’t expected was more change - more civility. But, alas, it came, in the form of communication - something that had been far and wide for the past four years. It came in the form of acquiescence. 

It came - unbelievably - in Remus Lupin at Sirius Black’s door.

“What are you doing?” Teddy asked as he got out. Remus slammed his door and turned as Teddy walked around the front of the car to the path. They began walking up it together. Remus’ face was indecipherable, and Teddy was bewildered.

“I need to talk to your dad,” he said, simply. Teddy raised an eyebrow.

“You talk now?”

Remus scowled at him. Teddy laughed.

“We talk!” he said. “About you.”

“Well, yeah,” Teddy said, kicking a loose stone down Sirius’ pathway. “But not in person. Do I need to fetch the fire extinguisher?”

Remus scowled again, but this time it was tainted with a laugh that he couldn’t hold back. Teddy felt light.

He hopped up the stairs and knocked on the door, while Remus stood at the bottom, behind him. It took a minute for Sirius to answer.

“Hey, kid,” he said as the door opened, and Teddy grinned. 

“Hi, Dad,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sirius stepped to the side, and Teddy followed his guide - he practically felt the shift, just as he had expected, when Sirius saw Remus standing at the bottom of the steps. He side-stepped behind his father and eyed them both.

Now that he had gotten over the shock, being in the know was rather fun, actually. 

“Hi,” Sirius said, a surprised twinge to his voice, and Remus moved up the two steps to match him.

“Hey,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Teddy peeked over Sirius’ shoulder with a knowing grin, and Remus narrowed his eyes at him.

Sirius turned around.

“Hey-- go in,” he said, shooing him off. He pushed Teddy lightly by the shoulder and he laughed as he staggered. “I’m making dinner. Go make sure my pot isn’t boiling.”

Teddy took a step back, into the shadows, but did not retreat.

His own fault, really, for not remembering that Remus Lupin had the eye of a hawk.

“Go, Teddy.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going.”

(Obviously he didn’t go. Who do you take him for?)

He tiptoed around the corner - there was an archway that led into Sirius’ kitchen, to the right of the front door with a little cubby just behind it. He pushed his back flat against the wall and curved his head as far around as he could without it being visible.

He heard Remus sigh.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

There was a painfully awkward silence.

“Remus? Do you need something?”

“Right--” Remus spluttered, slightly, and cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk out when we’re doing holiday dates this year.”

There was another moment of silence, and Teddy raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Holiday dates,” Sirius repeated, like a statement. He coughed. “Right. Um. Well. I had July last year, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” Sirius elongated the vowel needlessly. “It would… make sense for you to take him this July, then. And I’ll take him for August.”

They were quiet for a beat, and when Remus spoke next, he sounded surprised.

“I- Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“Alright.”

“Alright. Bye.” 

Teddy heard the tell-tale sound of feet hitting three steps, and he peeked his head around the corner - just in time to see Remus turn back around. Climb up them again. He jumped and pulled back, but kept one eye around the corner.

Sirius, who had been halfway to closing the door, startled and opened it again. Remus looked slightly stricken.

“Are we...” he started, quietly. Teddy could barely catch it. “Are we supposed to do… more?”

Sirius paused. “What do you mean?”

“To be friends,” he basically hissed, barely air. As if it was a dirty word - or, perhaps, something unfathomable for them to be. Spat through the gaps between his teeth. “Friends are supposed to be… you know. Friendly.”

“...Friendly?” Sirius said, and Teddy couldn’t see, but he could tell by the lilt in his voice that he was suppressing a laugh.

“Friendly,” Remus affirmed. “Like… I don’t know. How was your week?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Sirius burst out laughing.

“No,” he wheezed. “Absolutely not.”

“What?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“That’s what friends do!” Remus whined.

“And we’re not friends,” Sirius said, laughter abating. His voice got very, very low. Cautious. “Not those kind of friends. We can be more or we can be less. You know that.”

Remus huffed impatiently. Sirius crossed his arms.

“We’re doing fine,” he said, eventually. “Stop stressing. You’re a stresshead.”

“I’m not a stresshead.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, gentler than before. “You have a talent for catastrophizing. Stop trying to fit us into a box that we’re not going to fit into. We’re doing fine. I have no missing milk bottles. Nobody has died.”

“Yet,” he grumbled.

“Don’t push it, Remus, or it’ll fall apart again.”

Remus exhaled slowly, and then nodded.

“When did you become the one who had to reassure me?” he said, humorously, after a moment. Sirius laughed, leaning against the side of his door.

“I don’t know. When did you become a stresshead?”

“I’m not a--”

“Go,” Sirius said, more of a laugh than a word. “Go home. He’ll see you on Monday.”

Remus’ face was slightly obscured by Sirius’ shoulder, but Teddy watched him rock, slightly, on his heels like a teenager. Look down and then up at him. Sirius sighed.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

If he smiled, Teddy couldn’t see. He watched as Remus turned and walked away, swiftly; power walking, like if he slowed down even slightly he wouldn’t be able to resist turning again. Sirius stood there until he got to his car, and then closed the door, slowly. Took a deep breath.

He turned, and Teddy was leaning against the wall. His best shit-eating smirk on his face. He had been practicing with Harry.

Sirius groaned melodramatically.

“You were there the whole time, weren’t you?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Typical,” he muttered, pushing past him into the kitchen. Teddy followed.

“Oh--” Sirius groaned again as he got to the stove. He took the lid off the pot and turned the heat down. “And you let it boil over. Great, Ted, thanks for that.”

“No problem.”

Sirius glowered at him, and then turned to stir his pot - Teddy went into the cupboard for a glass of water. Sirius eyed him as he went past.

“Cup of tea for compensation, please,” he said, blithely, as Teddy passed the kettle. He turned and groaned.

“Ugh-- fine.”

He flicked the kettle on, poured his water and sat at the kitchen table, leaning back on his chair despite Sirius’ reprimands. He looked at his father knowingly. Sirius caught his eye, and then narrowed his own.

“What?” he said. Teddy grinned.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

Teddy shrugged, leaning back again. Sirius stalked two paces across the room and physically pushed the back of his chair to the ground, spilling a bit of water down Teddy’s front (he supposed he deserved that).

He got back to the stove and Teddy shuffled around to face him.

“So,” he said. “You and Da talk now?”

“Yes, we talk.”

“And you’re… friends, now?”

Sirius turned to look at him. “If you really eavesdropped like the little menace you are then I believe you will have heard me say that no, we are not.”

The knowing smirk reappeared on his face. Sirius groaned.

“What? Why do you keep smiling like that?” he said, laughing out of pure exasperation, pointing his wooden spoon at his son. “You spend too much time with James, you’re starting to remind me of him. Spit it out, kid.”

“I know something,” Teddy said, simply. He shrugged and took a sip of his water, and Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“You know nothing, Teddy Lupin,” he said, popping his spoon back in the pot with a thump and turning to lean against the countertop. Teddy laughed.

“Oi, don’t Jon Snow me,” he said, and Sirius raised both his eyebrows.

“Okay, you are entirely too young to be able to understand that reference.”

“I didn’t watch it, I just use the internet.”

(Lie. He absolutely did watch it, but this seemed to appease his father.)

“Well,” he said. “My point stands. You know nothing. Go do your homework, or something.”

“It’s the summer holidays!”

Sirius scoffed. “Go scroll mindlessly through social media, then, it’s no difference to me.”

Teddy laughed and got up, downing his water and putting it on the side. The kettle was boiled. He eyed it.

“Actually,” he said, tactically. “I do have homework to do. Loads of it. Can’t make you tea, sorry Dad, gotta go--”

He made his exit quicker than Sirius could call him an ungrateful swine, laughing all the way.

(And he didn’t think about the abstinence of the second barrel of his name. Teddy Lupin rolled off his father’s tongue with so much ease that it made him wonder if it meant something.)

***

“This is brilliant!”

Teddy groaned and let his head fall into his hands. “I don’t even want to know what stupid idea you have now.”

There was no sound for a moment long enough that he thought that Harry might have left; he looked up and, alas, he was still there. Still smiling. Still scheming. Teddy dreaded for him to get the goddamn whiteboard out--

Ah. Fuck. There it was.

They had wiped off the stupid table with the countdown of days on it about three weeks ago, and it had been promptly shoved underneath Harry’s desk (but not before Teddy drew a dick in the corner). He held it, now, facing away; he squinted through his glasses and his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he wrote.

“Now,” Harry said, hitting the whiteboard with a harsh two dots of an i and clicking the lid back on the pen. “Before you say anything--”

“If you even mention--”

“Ah-ah!” Harry exclaimed. “No words! Only read!”

And with that, he turned the whiteboard around.

OPTS&RoJH. 

Operation: Parent Trap Sirius & Remus on July Holiday.

(name to be evaluated)

Teddy’s jaw went slack.

“Okay, listen--” Harry blurted. Teddy did not listen.

The room erupted.

“Jesus Christ Harry, I told you we’re not--”

“But it’d be so easy if we could just--”

“Fuckin’ Lindsay Lohan-ing my literal parents--”

“Get my mum and dad in on it and--”

“It’s a stupid fucking movie anyway--”

“Hey,” Harry boomed, pointing at him with vigour. “Don’t you disrespect the greatest movie of all time.”

Teddy narrowed his eyes. “Last week you said the greatest movie of all time was Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back.”

Harry inclined his head in contemplation. “Okay, second best movie. Listen--”

“How would it even work?” Teddy asked. “I’m not a twin.”

“Well,” Harry squeaked, “If we take my parents out of the picture…”

“You mean kill them?!”

“No,” he said indignantly. “Hire someone else to kill them.”

Teddy scoffed, and then picked up his phone and spoke directly into it: “Hi, FBI Agent in my phone, he’s joking, I promise--”

“Fuck off,” Harry laughed, swatting at his hand and making his phone drop on the bed. Teddy pursed his lips and decided to go for another approach.

“Harry, if we’re twins, then you’re white.”

Harry scrunched his nose. “Ew. No. Nevermind, then.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Listen,” Harry said, “Please please please just let me run through the logistics of how this is the best plan to ever grace the face of the planet. You’ll be in. I swear down.”

Teddy sighed. “Fine. Go.”

“No interruptions.”

“Fine.”

He cleared his throat.

“Okay, so,” he said, businesslike and tall. “Your parents got married in the North, right--”

“Absolutely not,” Teddy interrupted, aghast; Harry whined, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Harry, that’s evil.”

“If you let me finish,” he near-screeched; Teddy shut his mouth. “I was only going to say that you lived there for a while, right? Up near Northumberland.”

Teddy was silent, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“You can interrupt when I ask you questions.”

“Okay, thank you for the permission to speak, overlord Potter,” Teddy grumbled. “Yes, we lived there a while. Earliest house I can remember was by the sea. They got married in a castle on the coast - but you knew that. You were there.”

“Just outlining the plan, dear Tedmeister,” Harry said blithely. “So, the coast. You guys used to go up there for holidays.”

Teddy was silent.

Harry rolled his eyes, and rephrased. “Did you guys used to go up there for holidays, question mark?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m going in the direction of love,” Harry said dreamily; Teddy threw a book at him. “Okay, alright, I’m going in the direction of I-think-I-can-persuade-my-dad-to-arrange-a-big-holiday-up-there, okay?”

“Your dad?”

“He mentioned going up there recently,” Harry said, serious now. “Just me, him and mum, for a week or something - they all went to that boarding school in Edinburgh, right? Spent a lot of time in the North.”

“Harry, Edinburgh and Newcastle are like three hours apart.”

“Well, I dropped Geography in Year 8, I don’t fucking know,” he said with a dismissive hand gesture. “The North is the North. It’s all land that’s kinda foreign but also familiar, especially since your parents got married there - sentimental, right? My dad would want to go there anyway as opposed to like a city. You know he likes to dig holes in the sand.”

Teddy laughed, then, slightly; unwittingly remembering when he was ten and James and Sirius had dug a huge hole in the sand, underestimated how far the tide was coming out and got water poured on their heads. That was down in Cornwall, he was pretty positive. His Uncle had grown up there, on the coasts - that, alongside his father in South Wales left him very familiar with beaches; even though mainland U.K. beaches were always dreary and cold unless you caught them in the very specific two week blistering hot heatwave during Summer.

The blistering heatwave that was supposed to come for the end of the month.

“So, let me get this straight,” Teddy said slowly. “Your plan is to convince your dad to include me and my dads on your holiday up to Northumberland… to what? Remind them of a better time?”

“That,” Harry said, “And to get them in the same place in the first place. Make them tolerate each other. I believe that is often referred to as an, ahem, trap.”

Teddy narrowed his eyes, but a part of him truly was considering it. “You know your mum will see right through you, right?”

“I don’t know…” Harry said, casually. “I think she might be a bit on board with us, too.”

Teddy sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face roughly. It did not bring sense back to him. Perhaps he didn’t have any sense to begin with; because, as much as he didn’t want to meddle into his parent’s private lives, he also… well, a part of him really fucking did. And the prospect of being on holiday with the two of them - together, speaking to each other - seemed almost unimaginable.

Teddy stood up.

“If we do this and the entirety of the North East goes up in flames, I’m blaming you,” he said, warningly, and Harry grinned.

“I’ll be sure to bring a fire extinguisher,” he said, and held out his hand - it felt a bit ridiculous, like they were in some stupid movie, or filling out a business transaction. Harry smiled.

“I think this is the best idea I’ve ever had,” he said, and Teddy rolled his eyes and sat him down to plot. 

***

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Remus didn’t even give James time to speak when he picked up the phone. He didn’t deserve it.

“It’s not that bad!”

“Yes, it is!” Remus said, eyes flickering up to the open door; he got up and stalked over to close it firmly, hoping that Teddy was too preoccupied with whatever he was up to upstairs to listen in on his conversation. Regardless, he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, on instinct. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No,” James said defensively. “I am very in my mind. Don’t you wanna go back up North? Alnwick and Seahouses? Land of the Geordies? I mean, god, when was the last time the four of us were up there together--”

“2013,” Remus supplied, like clockwork. “You came up for my thirtieth. Teddy was seven. We moved six months later.”

“See! That’s coming up on a decade now, Rem. Wouldn’t it be nice to go back there together?”

“Have you told him about this?” Remus asked, skeptically. “Is he in?”

James didn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course. You know he always does what I do.”

Remus blinked. “He is?”

“Yeah.”

“The whole week?”

“Mhm.”

“Even though… even though he knows I’ll be there?”

“Yes.”

Unblinking. Unhesitant. No question.

Remus wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.

“Wouldn’t it be nice?” James murmured, slightly distorted through the phone but soft as ever. “For things to be how they used to be?”

“James--”

“Not like that,” he said hastily. “I don’t mean you and him, I mean us. The four of us. Together, again.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, deep breath. James waited patiently.

“That’s the thing,” he said, quietly. “It would end up how it used to be. Eventually.”

“What do you mean?”

“James.”

There was a moment's silence, and then a sharp breath in that Remus took to be the lightbulb moment he could not see.

“You love him.”

“No,” Remus answered automatically, quickly (almost too quickly?) - and it was the truth. He wasn’t certain of a lot of things, but he was certain about that. He did not love Sirius Black. Not anymore.

James waited a second. A tense second.

“But you could. Again.”

And there it was. 

The opening. The door - it was ajar. Sirius had kicked it open, jammed it with his foot in his classroom, and no matter how hard Remus tried to push it closed again he couldn’t fucking do it. And it had simply gotten worse. Like an overgrown vine. And his hand had curled around the doorframe in the alleyway, and at the same time his other hand had curled around Remus’ heart, enclosed it; bleeding black into it like the blotting of wine on a serviette. Seeping memories, feelings and familiarity into the crevices of his organs, memories that he had forgotten - or tried to forget. 

Claiming ownership. Claiming what was always there, dormant, waiting to be awakened.

“James, I don’t know what to do,” Remus muttered, quiet and vulnerable, and James let him speak. “I don’t want to see him - I don’t want to be near him - but, I do. I really, really do. I don’t think I can live without it– him.” 

He took a breath, and then said, antagonisingly slowly: “I don’t think I can live without him.”

James scoffed. “Well, we know that, Remus.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Of course you can’t live without the bloody bastard,” James said, patronising streak through his nurturing, soft tone. “You know it, too. You didn’t spend the past four years tormenting each other for the sick triumph of making him unhappy--”

“Well--”

“Not only that,” James said. “You just wanted him to see you, didn’t you?”

Remus’ breath hitched, for a moment, and then it came tumbling out in a sombre excuse of a laugh.

“Gosh, when you put it like that, it’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” James said. “It’s… Remus and Sirius. It’s you guys needing each other. That’s not pathetic. Some people dream of having that kind of love.”

“But I don’t want it,” Remus said. “How can I not want to need him? How can I not want to--”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Look,” James said. His serious voice - his teacher voice - was on. “Nothing’s going to get easier if you don’t try, yeah? I thought you had come to a sort of… compromise. That’d you’d be interactive.”

“We have.”

“Exactly,” he affirmed. “If you’re going to do that - if you’re going to put everything behind you and try to just be functional co-parents, maybe even friends - you need to try. Actually commit to it, Remus; don’t go running off because you think your weak little heart will fall in love with him again when he bats his eyelashes at you.”

“Hey--”

“I’m right,” James said, not letting him interrupt. “You know I am. Just… God, Remus, just get out of your head and forget about it. Just go, and look at him and try to see him as the father to your son and not your ex-lover. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Remus said. “Fine. I can do that. But I’m gonna hate it.”

“You can hate it,” James said blithely. “That’s just a step closer to getting used to it. Storm before the calm, you know.”

“That is absolutely not how that saying goes.”

“Oh, I don’t care. Cry about it on your own time.”

Remus laughed, and he heard the small vibrations of James chuckling through the phone, too.

“Look, I have to go, Lily’s made dinner,” James said. “Just don’t overthink it, Remus. You overthink everything; you’re a stresshead.”

Remus scoffed at the familiar word choice, and James was gone before he even got further than “Okay.”

Was he a stresshead? Was it irrational to be as closed off as he was after the love of his life had broken his heart? After they had broken each other, brick by brick; axe to wood, drill to cement. Was it irrational to hold up some feeble form of self-preservation after everything that loving Sirius Black had put him through? Was it wrong to put up walls, knowing they could crumble with the single press of his pinky finger; the simple brush of his breath against Remus’ face. 

Why did he feel like he was in the wrong, here? 

It was unfair, he supposed. To insinuate that Sirius had ruined him and that he had not done the same in return. And it would be unfair to insinuate that Sirius had always been easier to recover; had always been the one to dive in deep and come out bruised, yet been the one to heal from his bruises simply and beautifully, after the scene he had made in the alleyway. 

The way he had borne his soul to Remus like it was his for the taking. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it always would be. In what way, he wasn't entirely sure yet.

But it would be fair to state that Sirius was, on some level, an optimist. He was thick-skinned - perhaps he didn’t deal with things in the healthiest way (lord knows he didn’t) but his childhood had led him to perfect the art of picking himself up and dusting himself off. Finding what was left of him in the ruins; picking out the strands of joy and happiness and the barebones of who he was from between the pitiful gravel and marble destruction. He was a fighter; maybe Remus did not know him anymore, but he knew enough. He knew this.

And it would also be fair to state that Sirius Black gave his all to what he loved, stripped down to the very bone, enamel of his being. He loved with all of the stars and beyond. He gave Remus a home in his skin, in his bones, and he did it freely. He did it so freely that Remus had thought, often, that perhaps he was the only thing that grounded Sirius to this astronomical plane. He had been in freefall, when they had kindled their flame; a glorious, tragic freefall, and Remus - though he did not take all of the credit, and had not stood to ‘fix’ him or turn him into something he could not hold up himself - had, if anything, stabilised him. They had stabilised each other. So it was always hard for Remus to vent about the logistics of their relationship, the way they had burnt and the way it had hurt; because he could not dare feel sorry for himself. He could not feel sorry for himself, knowing that whatever he was feeling, Sirius was feeling tenfold; and Remus was feeling twentyfold that, and Sirius thirtyfold that. So on, and so forth. 

And when Remus had moved out of his skin; packed up the cells that were his for the taking, that had become his as he had bled his soul into Sirius’ willing hands, through the gaps between his fingers; he had demolished him, like a battlefield, and he had left it. He had left it there for Sirius to contend with; left it there for Sirius to sift through. To pick through the strands of his own DNA and find the essence of himself, pre-Remus, during-Remus and post-Remus, whatever the difference was. He had left foundations.

Remus had none of those. He had an empty battlefield; he had dead grass and wilting sunflowers. And perhaps Sirius had lent him seeds to replant in his courtesy; perhaps he had lent him a watering can, perhaps a whole fucking wheelbarrow of compost to recompense for his loss; it had been such a slow process that for a long, long time, all he had was dirt, and grass, and Teddy. Always Teddy. It had been Teddy that he had moved for; without him he supposed he would have sat, immoveable, as if he were immortal, until his skin had shrivelled up and death had taken him, just to attempt to stay in the past, where he knew what to expect, knew how to live.

And he had not wallowed unhealthily. Despite the turmoil in his chest he had not let Sirius Black ruin his life, then, but he wasn’t sure that he would be powerful enough to resist letting him ruin his life again, now, and that was what scared him. That was why his walls were up - why his self-preservation alarms were blaring red and sensual whenever Sirius entered his peripheral vision, whenever his name settled itself into his ears, poured in there like sweet, cherry spanish wine.

More than friends or less than friends. Never the balance between. He could be more with Sirius or less with Sirius, but whatever he did, it would be with Sirius. 

Sirius, always Sirius. He would never be rid of Sirius. 

And he didn’t really think he wanted to be, anymore. He didn’t really think he had wanted to, ever. At no point had he ever stopped to think that perhaps it would be better for him to move away, for him to not be near Sirius Black. It was unfathomable. 

He would go. It was inevitable that he would go, and he would entertain Sirius’ eyes; his lips, the way he smiled with his face, the way his hair fluttered in the wind. The way his cheeks reddened like apples when he was cold; the way he slept with the duvet over his face. The way age had drunk him like the finest wine. The way he was soft, and his skin was papery and real, tangible, rough and dented and lovely and lovely and lovely and every synonym of that word in every dictionary on the planet.

He would go. He would see Sirius. He would let Sirius see him. And he would try not to fall in love with him, again, he supposed.

It didn’t seem like too hard of a feat.

***

“Teddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind telling me why your toothbrush is still in the holder when I’ve told you three times to pick it up, now?”

Bounding footsteps came from outside of the bathroom, and Sirius barely had two seconds to step back before the door flung open to a rather flustered Teddy, decked out in sunglasses and a huge black backpack.

“Sorry!” he chirruped with a sheepish smile, grabbing his purple toothbrush from the holder and disappearing in a second. Sirius laughed.

“Right,” he muttered to himself. “He got his toothbrush, his toiletries. His - Ted, did you get your eczema cream?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright,” Sirius muttered, sauntering into his son’s room to give it a once over. Suitcase = downstairs. Chargers = not in the plug sockets. Laptop = nowhere to be seen, which meant he had it; which was a good thing, because he and Harry had vowed to watch all of the Twilight movies on holiday for some odd reason that Sirius didn’t want to delve into.

He hopped downstairs - Teddy was sitting on a chest at the bottom of the stairs, on his phone. Sirius reached out and gripped his hair.

“You need to re-bleach this,” he said idly, eyeing his dark brown roots that bled into the faded blue. Teddy swotted his hand away.

“I know,” he said, running his fingers through it himself. He stood up to look in the mirror on the wall of the hallway. “But Victoire’s in France for another three weeks and I don’t trust anyone else with my hair.”

“I could do it.”

Teddy turned and narrowed his eyes at his dad. “You could not. You’ve never even dyed your hair.”

“Au contraire, Teddy,” Sirius said, wheeling the suitcases to the door in anticipation of James’ car’s arrival. (He was driving himself, Lily and Remus, whereas Sirius had been stuck with the kids - because if anyone was patient enough to tolerate them for a six hour drive, it was Sirius). “I bleached my hair at seventeen. Lily and our friend Mary did it for me.”

Teddy turned and gaped. “Are you serious?”

“Always.”

“You actually did?”

“Yeah,” Sirius laughed. “It didn’t lighten very much, though - my hair is too dark - so me and your aunt were matching redheads for a solid week. It was an experience.”

“And what did Da think of that?”

Sirius shut his mouth promptly, smile clawing at the corners of his lips. Teddy laughed.

“He hated it.”

“No,” Sirius said. “He… yeah, he despised it.”

Teddy put his phone down and cackled. “Do you have any pictures?!”

“No,” Sirius laughed. “Do you think I would’ve let any of them near me with a camera looking like-- like a vintage carpet?”

“Oh my god,” Teddy said. “Da absolutely has pictures somewhere.”

“He doesn’t!”

“I’m gonna ask him.”

“No you absolutely will not,” Sirius said, tying his hair back. “I regret telling you now.”

Teddy laughed, and Sirius eyed him. He pursed his lips.

“You know,” he said, casually. “I don’t know why I feel like you had something to do with this.”

Teddy raised an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestured to the suitcases, and the backpack slung on the floor. Teddy’s eyes widened slightly.

“Why… would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said, genuinely. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Teddy shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sirius scoffed, and murmured “yet” under his breath - Teddy’s laughter was marred by the doorbell ringing.

The door opened, and James Potter stood on Sirius’ front step, looking, quite genuinely, like he was going to Italy and not the North of England.

Or - no. He looked like he was already there.

“Oh my god, why are you wearing jorts?!” came in a devastated, embarrassed tone from behind Sirius. He unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.

James pushed his sunglasses down and narrowed his eyes at his nephew (though, without his glasses on, he really just looked like he was squinting). “We’re going on holiday, Teddy. Let a man live.”

“I tried to make him change,” Lily said, hopping up the stairs behind him - and behind her was Harry, who immediately slid in past his dad and went to immediately show Teddy something on his phone that left them in hysterics. 

“Hi, love,” Lily said, giving Sirius a swift hug. “Excited?”

“As excited as I can be,” Sirius grumbled. “He’s still in the car?”

Lily shrugged. “Said he’d wait. He has a few of Teddy’s things in a tote bag.”

Teddy perked up at this. “Did he bring my switch?”

Lily seemed to have been expecting that question. “Yes, he did.”

“Fuck yes!” Teddy said, turning to Harry and immediately launching into some mantra about Mario Kart. Sirius turned and pointed at him.

“Don’t fucking swear,” he said, shooting the two boys a wink that Lily wasn’t able to see, but - if the years she had spent surrounded by testosterone was worth anything - knew had happened. She rolled her eyes when Sirius turned back, and James checked his watch.

“Right, we should probably head off, then,” he said. “Haz, go get the stuff you want out of the car to get ready to put it into Sirius’.”

Harry nodded and got up - Sirius dug into his pockets and got his car keys.

“Actually, just go get in,” he said, to his own son - Teddy bounded over and took the keys from him. “And go get whatever stuff your Dad has brought on the way.”

“Cheers,” they both said before slipping out of the door and heading towards the car. Sirius watched as Remus got out and hugged them both, and then dragged his eyes back to James and Lily.

Sirius, Lily and James all collectively hauled the bags out of Sirius’ front door - they didn’t have much, to be fair, considering it was just the two of them - and down the drive. James summoned Harry to help him fit what they could into Sirius’ boot. Lily was preoccupied with something in her front seat, and Teddy was shadowing her (it was probably his stuff, shoved in the footwell somewhere), and so when Sirius felt a hand grip onto his shoulder as he attempted to haul both a suitcase and Teddy’s backpack to the car, he knew exactly who it was.

Still stopped breathing, though. Remus Lupin sucked all of the breath out of him like a vaccum, time and time again.

“Hey,” he said, gently. Kindly. It was a sunny day, and he looked like he was born to be there - his hair glinted golden, every colour you couldn’t see in the usual English drear, and his eyes were wide and honey brown. Sirius swallowed.

“Hi,” he said. Remus pulled his hand off his shoulder like it burned him.

“Let me take that,” he said, gesturing to the backpack. “Is that Teddy’s?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, gruffly, avoiding his eye and shrugging the backpack off with care. “No fucking clue what’s in it.”

“His laptop, I think,” Remus said, reaching out to take it from him. Their fingers brushed together. Sirius didn’t let himself think about it - fucking hell, he was almost forty and acting like a shy teenage girl. Fuck being in love with Remus Lupin. “That thing is ridiculously heavy. And he always leaves it on the bloody floor - I’m going to break my back picking it up one of these days.”

Sirius laughed, breathily, and straightened up as Remus adjusted his grip on the backpack. “Well, that’s not entirely fair,” he said, and Remus quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not the laptop’s fault that your back isn’t as spritely as it was ten years ago. We’re just old.”

Remus was silent for a moment - probably not as long as Sirius’ brain made it seem - and, just as he had begun to worry that he had said the wrong thing - that they weren’t there, yet - he laughed. Remus Lupin laughed.

Oh, god, was it beautiful.

“You’re not wrong,” he said, chuckling, and they walked the three paces to the back of the car beside each other, one foot forward and then the other. And it was a stupid, three second long sentiment, but it felt like they were in tune again. Briefly. For a lovely three seconds. Sirius wondered how long they would be able to stretch it before it snapped.

They fitted all of the bags into the car, and Remus walked back to Lily and James’. Sirius ended up in the middle of both vehicles, in a strange position, waiting for Harry to be done with whatever he was bugging his parents with when Teddy appeared. Walked past him. Slowed, for a moment.

His lips quirked up in the most Remus-like gesture Sirius had ever seen on the kid, and his eyes flickered - from his father on the outside of the car to his father on the inside, looking to the other side. The back of his head visible - golden curls still glinting in the shade. Teddy’s eyes glistened with excitement - with knowledge; and in a moment of realisation, Sirius knew exactly what the little fucking bastard had been up to.

“You--” he whispered. “You little meddler. You absolute bugger.”

Teddy laughed, and Sirius did too - in pure exasperation.

“Didn’t do anything!” he called, opening the car door. 

“Teddy Lupin!”

He pulled his headphones out and popped them into his ears, immediately gesturing as if he couldn’t hear anything, though Sirius saw damn fucking well that they weren’t plugged in. He scowled, and his eyes moved of their own accord back to Remus.

He was watching them, through the window. His lips were curved upwards the tiniest amount - just enough that it might not be noticeable, had Sirius not been studying the way his muscles moved for twenty years. It only quirked further when they locked eyes. Sirius didn’t know what that meant. He was desperate to know what that meant.

“This isn’t over,” he said, looking back at his son; knowing that it probably was.

Knowing that he would let it happen.

Fuck being in love with Remus Lupin. 

***

So, six hours down the line, Sirius was going to strangle James Potter with his jorts.

He was pretty sure that Remus was, too. Perhaps this could be what they reunite over. Murdering James Fleamont Potter with their bare hands.

Sirius’ murder plans started to form in his head the moment that he opened the door to his room.

The cottage they were renting for the week was lovely. It was just by the sea - so much so that you could hear the crashing of the waves if you had the window open. It escalated on the left to a beautiful cliffside (and, subsequently, a hill that Sirius was very damn happy that they would be able to drive up as opposed to walk) and there were multiple trails along the hills and the rocks. Sirius had been on this beach before. He had been on most up here; he had been on a lot down south, as well, and especially when he had lived in Cornwall with James for a couple of years in his youth; but he had a strange sort of affinity to the coasts up on the North.

The castle he and Remus had got married in was barely a forty-five minute drive away.

It was painfully planned. Though, to give them credit, Northumberland wasn’t an entirely huge place - it was less than two hours from the Scottish border to Newcastle - but it still felt pointed. This whole thing felt pointed. A week with Remus, in the region they had spent the early years of their marriage in; on the coasts they had walked, hand in hand, the rockpools that Teddy had found a starfish in, the rocks that Sirius had climbed back when he was a little bit more spritely (and, admittedly, a bit less clumsy) (Remus would disagree with that sentiment - he was always clumsy) all felt incredibly pointed. 

It was a very obvious set-up. Whether his family were subconsciously aware of it or not.

See, he held that sentiment, because… Harry and Teddy? Meddling bastards. This was absolutely part of their plan, but James… well, this may have, truly (and he hated to admit it, knowing how he was going to be living for the next week) been an oversight on his part.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, quietly, as Sirius stood at the doorframe and surveyed the two single beds on opposite sides.

“You’re sorry?!” he almost screeched - Remus was downstairs with Lily, he didn’t know yet. Sirius didn’t want to be there when he did.

“Look, I thought I got the one with four bedrooms,” he said - he had genuinely whipped out his phone to check. Sirius had to give it to him. “They list them as the amount of beds, see, so I didn’t notice.”

“What are the others?”

James sighed. “Mine and Lily’s room is a double. Harry and Teddy are on bunk beds. If you want to be a forty year old man on a bunk bed, be my guest.”

“Can I not share with Teddy?” he said desperately. “Remus with Harry?”

James sighed - again. “I don’t know - they’ll be up late, you know they will. They’re wanting to watch those movies, right? Remus will get irritated. Or, no-” he cut himself off, “you’ll get irritated. You’re crabby when you’re tired.”

Sirius scowled.

“Fine,” he grumbled, slinging his suitcase across the room with more oomph than necessary. “Fine.”

“That’s it,” James said, patronisingly, and Sirius almost hit him.

“I’m going to die,” he said. “I’m not going to survive this week, and in my obituary I want everyone to know that it was your fault.”

James simply rolled his eyes. He had lived enough of Sirius’ theatrics for a lifetime.

He slipped down the stairs and past Lily and Remus unnoticed (they were organising food and belongings in the kitchen area) and out of the door. The boys had gone down to the beach, but he wasn’t going with the intention to find them. Just for some fresh air, he supposed. The air was warm and it was still sunny - the last rays of sunshine fighting their way over the misty horizon, curling a hand over the edge of the earth - but a twinge of wind had kicked in, and it was welcomed. 

It ran through Sirius’ hair, over his skin like enlightenment. It sifted through him and out, away, on. Forwards. The wind was always moving. It never stayed in one place. There was always more to explore, more land, more people, more hair to run its intangible, metaphorical fingers through.

He padded onto the wet sand, dewey from where the tide had been in probably an hour or so before. The wind was more biting by the sea. Foreign breezes from across oceans. Denmark, he believed, was directly ahead of where he was standing. Across the North Sea. The waves crashed and retracted, and the wind blew and whirled, gave and took, and Sirius Black stayed in stasis. He stayed the same. He felt immensely out of place.

Because the world was spinning; time was ticking, and nature was blooming, and he was nothing but an inanimate object cupped in Remus Lupin’s hands. He looked into his eyes and his world stopped, but the rest of the world simply kept going. He looked into his eyes and everything stopped working. He looked into his eyes and the waves could stop midway through a crash; a seagull could pause in the air, frozen fish in its mouth. A whale, out in the depths of the ocean, could do a flip and freeze in the air, never touching its home again. All because of Remus Lupin. His guiding hand controlled the entire world. He blinked and natural disasters occurred.

Yet it was, still, rather enlightening to stand amongst the movement while not moving at all. Once the wind cleansed him of all of the feelings he had swirling around his chest; once the salt air detangled the accumulation of cables wrapped around his rusty heart, it was nice, to simply watch. It was nice to acknowledge his stasis. It was nice to watch as the world moved on, because if the world was spinning, so was Remus. And if Remus ever stopped - if Remus ever ceased to exist, surely the world would, too? The sea would be sucked through a hole in the ground like a draining bathtub. The air would siphon back up and be distributed into space, and the last thing that his body would allow him to phantom taste before he choked would be Remus Lupin’s lips on his own, one last time. Just the one.

It was simply nice to know, he supposed. That he still had these feelings. That they were still rattling around his hollow ribcage. That he could still extend love - real, tangible love, sweet like strawberries on his tongue - to a human being. Granted, it was the same human being that had made him doubt he could in the first place, but that wasn’t important. It felt like a weight had been lifted out of his stomach - or, perhaps, a safe had been unlocked and a million feelings burst out of it all at once, a million feelings that made everything make sense.

Of course he was in love with Remus Lupin. How could he not be?

This was a test. The beds, the holiday, this entire thing was a test. It was a test to see if Remus could be happy with him, or happy without him. And where ten years ago Sirius might have been selfish - Sirius might have grabbed him, hidden him away underneath the marble ruins of his soul - he would be entirely willing to let him go this time. Without harm. If that was what Remus wanted, it would be what Remus got.

If Remus wanted to love him, Sirius would give him the universe.

If Remus wanted to be friends, Sirius would keep it on standby.

If Remus didn’t want to be with him any longer than he had to, well. Sirius would hold the universe; he would carry it with him, he supposed, all the way until his last breath. 

He would simply hope that in death Remus would take it, take him, all that he was and all that he could be.

It was painful to carry, but it was simply nice to be aware of the fact that he was carrying it. Nothing really made sense before that safe had opened.

The beach was busy, but not ridiculously busy. Not busy enough that Sirius would be bothered, where he was, beside the rock pools - he had hopped over a few, actually, to get to where he was. The tide just reached him - touched the tips of his shoes, not enough to soak but enough to be painfully aware of the fact that it was there. The beach was lovely. The beach was escapism. The beach was–

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

Sirius turned, hair whipping, to see Remus approaching him; hands in his pockets, face slightly scrunched as the wind whipped it. It seemed to be going at him more aggressively than it had Sirius. He wondered if his hair had shielded him, or if, perhaps, there was a reason. If the wind was trying to knock at his doors; trying to pry open his own safe. Sirius had opened his willingly. Remus was always the most stubborn.

But, no. No. That wasn’t it. He wasn’t that, unless he wanted to be that, and Sirius would not entertain hopes that they would be any more than two old friends standing on the coast together.

“It is,” he said, nodding slightly. He turned to look back at the water. Remus slid in beside him. Just a little bit too close.

“You saw the room, then?” he said, and Sirius blinked. He had expected hostility.

“Yeah,” he said, and then he turned to look at him. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want--”

“It’s fine,” Remus said, almost automatically. “I don’t mind.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment.

“You don’t?”

“I mean,” Remus said, inclining his head and turning to look back at the water. The last strains of the sun captured his face beautifully. He belonged in the Louvre. “Obviously it’ll be a bit strange. We haven’t slept next to each other in…” he trailed off, cleared his throat and tried again. “But it doesn’t have to be weird. If we don’t… make it weird.”

Sirius blinked, and he turned to gauge his reaction. His features were soft, yet they could still cut Sirius into pieces. “Do you know what I mean?”

He bit his lip and turned away again. He focused very heavily on a coming wave; watched it rise, fall, and splash against the tips of their feet, before saying, in barely a whisper: “What do you want, Remus?”

Remus inhaled sharply. “What?”

“What do you want?” he said, again, firmer but still as soft as the breeze. “Your hand is on the wheel, love; it always has been. And I’m following your lead, but I don’t know what your endgame is. I just need to know what we are. What we could be. Just… just give it to me straight.”

Remus didn’t respond for a long moment. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured, and Sirius huffed and turned to him.

“You can’t not know,” he said with purpose. “You can’t. I need- I mean, if we’re gonna be around each other-- we have to start from the beginning, see? But I need to know what the end is supposed to be to figure out where to start.”

Remus looked at him, and fuck, Sirius loved him so much.

“Friends,” he offered. On a silver fucking platter. “But you said we couldn’t be.”

“No,” Sirius said, grasping at straws, grasping at anything to keep him here. “Technically I said we couldn’t be friends in the normal sense.”

“We can’t be anything in the normal sense,” Remus said, with a hint of humour. “We are so far from normal it’s ridiculous.”

“Friends who ask each other about their week,” Sirius scrunched his nose and shook his head. “We can’t do that. But we can be friends who- who acknowledge our past.”

“Friends who acknowledge our past,” Remus said absently, turning and admiring the coast; letting it wash over him like a holy shower. “What better place to do that than here?”

A long breath of release came from the hollow of Sirius’ chest, and he pressed the hold button.

The universe went on standby.

Sirius smirked and followed his gaze. “Do you remember when we lost Teddy in Alnwick Castle?”

Remus whirled back around to him, and it seemed like the moment they caught gazes he burst into laughter. “Oh, God, yes. He was only five.”

“He wandered off to sit with all of the kids doing that stupid broomstick flying thing,” Sirius said, and Remus nodded in recognition.

“I felt like such a bad father,” he said, lightly. “He was there and then he was just gone.”

“That was the first time I realised how sneaky he was,” Sirius said. The tide didn’t touch their shoes anymore, and the wind sat idly by their feet. “Remember when we used to lose him in Tesco 'cause he would hide in between the clothes racks?”

Remus nodded, and then laughed in a late reaction. “You bought him those light-up Skechers for that exact reason,” he said - of course, he had been laughing at the memory. The memory Sirius didn’t even think of - and he was laughing, now, too.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, nodding. “Those were the coolest fucking shoes, though. He saw them on the adverts for Nickelodeon and cried for about two days until I gave in. And then you--”

“I got so mad at you for that,” Remus supplied, nodding. “For spoiling him. I mean-” he turned, with purpose - Sirius raised his eyebrows. “It was literally November. You couldn’t have just waited until Christmas?”

“Okay,” Sirius said, defensively, and Remus was laughing. Sirius’ cheeks hurt. He pointed at him. “I absolutely could not have waited until Christmas. The kid was on my case 24/7 about it. God, you don’t even know--”

“I do know,” Remus said. “We were together then. I was there.”

A light wave of remembrance befell them, and Sirius grasped at the driftwood to shelter them from it.

“No,” he said, “I meant that you didn’t know because he only bloody annoyed me about it.”

The wave evaporated instantly with Remus’ indignant gasp - the way his lips curved. “Yes, because you spoiled him and he knew it!”

“I didn’t!”

“You did,” he laughed. “He was six years old and he already knew to go to you whenever he wanted something. That you’d say yes and I’d say no. He had you wrapped around his little finger.”

Sirius looked down and laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets. Remus brushed against his arm, and the warmth ignited him.

“Yeah, well,” he said softly. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” Remus replied, almost instantly. He took a breath in and looked over at the horizon. The sun was set, now, but he still looked unreal in the blue tint of the clouds. “I can’t. He’s the best thing we could’ve ever hoped for.”

Sirius hummed and nodded, and silence fell over them - he was almost positive that the conversation was over, that the moment had passed. And then Remus turned to him again.

“He loves you so much, you know,” he said quietly. Sirius turned back to him and almost melted in his eyes. He smiled and Sirius was a goner. “I feel… sad, that we put him in a position where he wasn’t comfortable saying it in front of me. Speaking about you, I mean.”

Sirius nodded. “Well, the same thing went for me, so…”

“But he loves you,” Remus said. “And I’m glad that… ah, I don’t know.” He turned away, again, and his brow furrowed slightly, as if he was sifting through every single word in the dictionary to try and vocalise the mixture of feelings climbing up his throat. Sirius stood and waited patiently. He always did.

“I’m glad that we… made it work,” he said, eventually. “When it came to him. I’m glad that the custody agreement never collapsed - we never let our, I don’t know, disdain for one another ruin his image of us as people.”

“Well,” Sirius said, inclining his head. “He definitely thinks we’re a pair of childish idiots.”

Remus laughed. “That’s not an image, that’s just the truth.”

“I know what you mean, though,” Sirius said. “When we got divorced… I read so many horror stories about co-parents… you know. Losing relationships with their kids. Deadbeat dads, all that kind of stuff, and I just… I mean, could you even fathom…?”

“No,” Remus said carefully. Sirius looked up at him, and he had a soft smile on his face. “No, I couldn’t.”

He took a breath and swallowed down a million feelings - possibly all of the feelings in the world - while Remus stood there, watching him. It was somewhere. It was progress. It was friendship - whatever their definition of friendship was supposed to be. And Sirius was okay with that.

“You’re a good dad,” Remus said, sensing that Sirius needed the reassurance before he even did himself. “I thought a lot of terrible things about you in the past four years, but I never once doubted that.”

Oh, and Sirius had a lump in his throat.

“You are too,” he managed, and he swallowed it down along with the honey in Remus’ eyes and the prospect of ever, ever going back.

“Right,” Remus said with a puff of air. He pulled his jacket more tightly around his torso. “It’s getting kind of cold, I think. I am in dire need of a cuppa.”

Sirius laughed breathily and nodded. “Me too.”

Remus turned to walk back up the beach, and Sirius, in absolute fluidity, followed him. As if he had been tugged by a fish hook on his navel. As if he was in the passenger seat. 

Sirius had climbed over a few rock pools - not substantial ones, but rocky enough - to get to the point they were standing at, and Remus went the same way that he had come. They weren’t slippery - the tide had gone out long enough and the air had been warm enough during the day that the rocks were dry, if a little mossy. The waters were clear - stones of black, silver, red twinkled, submerged in the wet, accommodating sand. It looked like something out of a movie - some kind of rockpool cliche. Sirius spent so little time on sandy coasts nowadays that he had almost forgotten what it was like. Almost.

Remus went ahead, clambering carefully, and Sirius followed right behind him, like a shadow. He took a step onto a mossy rock, and he lifted his other foot and immediately the moss let him down.

Sirius’ hands were out before he even began to slip.

“Fuck,” he gasped, jolting downwards and he flailed his leg slightly to stick his foot on solid ground and not fall into the shallow waters, and Sirius grabbed him. Sirius held him, one hand under the armpit and another around his waist, and Remus turned, gripping onto the wrist of the hand around his waist for dear life, one movement away from lacing their fingers together, and he turned.

He looked up at Sirius. And he immediately burst into laughter.

It was wheezed, hysterical laughter, from the both of them; Remus almost staggered again when he tried to stabilise the placement of his feet for how hard he was laughing. Sirius didn’t move his hands, either of them; only loosened them when he was okay; and Remus didn’t move his from his wrist, either, holding him there. He was smaller than Sirius for once in his life due to the fact Sirius was standing on a higher stone, and he let his head fall against Sirius’ heaving chest and just… laughed. He didn’t know what they were laughing at. Perhaps the absurdity that they were in a position to laugh in the first place.

He pulled back, slightly, from Sirius’ chest; his other hand was gripping onto the fabric of his shirt; and Sirius had honestly never felt a pain quite like the one he did in his chest, watching Remus pull away from him. Never felt the urge to keep him there so strongly. 

And perhaps Sirius Black is a little bit selfish. Just a little bit.

He let his hand move upwards to match the other one that had ended up on Remus’ arm; slid them, only slightly, around his shoulder blades, and tugged. He pulled Remus into his chest and his ex-husband fell willingly, and he thought, briefly, that perhaps he was not the only one of them who was putty in the other's hands. 

Remus went with him like a wave pulled back into the sea.

He fell against his chest, and his arms moved like clockwork; they fit like clockwork, really, like the puzzle piece that Sirius had been missing in his life for four years. Their hearts pressed together, sternum, collarbone, every single rib aligning with the others like the lattices that James taught his students about in Science. Something chemical. Something extraordinary. Remus snaked his arms around Sirius’ waist, and he held him there.

They never hugged like this. Sirius was the smaller of the pair so it was always the other way around. He had loved it, then, to be in Remus’ hold and to feel the protective barrier of his arms around him like a shield; to be small, to be gentle. To take a break from being the guiding hand and to instead be moulded by something else. To be someone else’s baby. He was four months older than Remus, and yet had been his baby - ever since the night up in their tower in the rainy winter of Edinburgh at seventeen years old, where they had wrapped up warm in each other’s arms and Remus had murmured the words against his pining, desperate lips. Pet names and dynamics had not been used sparingly, but baby had been something special to him. 

Because Sirius Black had not known a life, not had a childhood of being taken care of. Of being treated preciously, instead of some throwaway cargo that could be replaced. He had revelled in the comfort of Remus’ protection - Remus’ genuine affection - for as long as he could remember.

But they could be this, too. Holding Remus in his arms, taller and more grounded, made him feel things that he didn’t even know how to describe. Why give each other labels to abide by? When they could be this, too, and this was marvellous? When he could hold Remus in his arms and know, for the few seconds that he had him, that no harm would come to him, and that the world would continue on. That the sparrows would chirp, the lightning would flash, the waves would rise and fall and crash against the sand. It was different. They could be different. 

Remus was not his baby; but here, in his arms, he could pretend he still was.

They stayed together for about five seconds. Just five, long, warm seconds. Sirius let his head rest on Remus’ hair; dug his nose into it, smelled it, took in as much of him as he could. He felt Remus breathe shakily against his chest and took it upon himself to pull back.

“Sorry,” he said, as Remus lifted his head up. His arms slacked from their hold around Sirius’ waist to the sides of his ribs; from the sides of his ribs to his waist; from his waist, down and off. He took a sharp breath in when they had let each other go, and clarity washed over him. “God, I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” Remus said. Again. It was fine. Everything was fine. “Friends hug, don’t they?”

The corner of Sirius’ lip twitched slightly. “I suppose they do.”

“‘S alright,” he said, sweetly. “But you’re gonna need to help me up, cause I’ll just fall again.”

“Right. Right.”

They helped each other over the rocks cautiously, bursting into stupid laughter when one of them slipped, and Remus slipped his hand into Sirius’. Not discreetly - it was so that neither of them would fall, but he seemed to take a moment too long to drop it when they got back onto the solid sand, and Sirius would be lying if he said he didn’t let himself think about what that could mean.

Sirius and Remus slept in the same room as each other and the house didn’t burn down, so. You know. That was a win in Sirius’ book.

Their first day - first proper day - was dedicated to simply roaming around the nearest town. Alnwick was gorgeous - Sirius had forgotten just how gorgeous, in all honesty. It was quaint, quainter than the city they lived in down south, but the north always had a different sort of energy to it that the south couldn’t encompass. Sirius was London born and bred, and had grown up used to the city lights and the bustling crowds, but he supposed his childhood had disillusioned him to it all. Or perhaps Remus had swayed him the opposite way. Either seemed plausible - perhaps both.

Sirius had spent his first summer away from home in Cornwall, with James, and his second summer away from home in South Wales, with Remus. They both had lived in marginally quaint areas - Remus more so than James, but Cornwall was still a huge step from the metropolis of London. It had been Wales that he had fallen in love with, however - with the city, with the people, with the coasts, with Remus. It was a shame that they had never gotten to live there together - circumstances had gotten in the way - but it was somewhere that he always had a close place to, and it was somewhere that he had felt the loss of heavily when they had gotten divorced and Remus and Teddy had gone to visit the Senior Lupin’s without him.

Alnwick was different though. Alnwick held a strange taste of nostalgia. They had not lived far from there, a little further north, for the better part of five years as Teddy grew up, and thus it had been a place the three of them had frequented quite often. Remus seemed to settle into himself easily. It was heartwarming to see. He brought them down backroads, on a charity shop run that had always been the utter highlight of the city.

Lily found a battered old copy of Wuthering Heights, which she bought immediately. James found some baggy blue trousers which were absolutely atrocious. Sirius found a wiry, wool grandpa jumper, patterns of red, green and yellow sewn through it, needle dripping in love. He had nudged Teddy who had immediately turned to his father and professed that he get it, and Sirius felt quite triumphant about that, in all honesty.

Remus didn’t, himself, find much that caught his fancy. He nabbed a couple of books. He browsed. Sirius watched as he flicked through a rack of old hanging clothes; old, faded jeans, long hippie skirts or tops undoubtedly from the 2000s. Remus pushed a purple skirt with beads embroidered into it and Sirius watched as he settled on a black leather jacket; pulled it out. Looked it up and down.

He looked at Sirius.

“Oh my god,” Sirius said, taking three steps over to him. Remus turned it around on the hanger so he could see. “Look at that.”

“I was about to say you should have it,” Remus said. “You’re still into these things, right?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Perpetually.”

He rolled the fabric of the front between his fingers; traced the zipper. He turned it and gripped onto something loose in the back.

“Oh, Remus, it has tassels,” he said, almost too excitedly - Remus let out a barking, surprised laugh and flipped it around - it did, in fact, have tassels. “This is some shit Billy Ray Cyrus would wear.”

Remus had been about to speak, and had had to choke his words back to laugh at Sirius’ latter remark. He squeezed his eyes shut and thinned his lips into an intent line to try and compose himself for words; Sirius watched him all the while.

“Get it,” he said eventually, passing it to him. “It’s so ugly, it matches your style.”

It took Sirius a moment to actually register his words; Remus was eyeing him, waiting for the ball to drop.

“Oh, fuck you, Lupin,” he choked, and Remus laughed. 

“I speak only the truth.”

“And what’s that you’re holding?” Sirius teased, pretending to peek into his bag. “Is that- another wool jumper?”

“Hey– it’s comfortable.”

“It looks like a carpet.”

It was quite comedic, really, Sirius slandering it after being the one to alert him of its existence, but this was what they did. It felt warm. It was like honey flowing through his veins - the sweet feeling of puzzle pieces fitting back into place. They were clinging to the same wavelength by two fingers, maybe three, but they were there, and it was brilliant. He had never realised how much he had appreciated such mundane interactions with Remus until they had disappeared.

“Well,” Remus said haughtily, still a twinge of comedy on the curve of his lips. “I like it. Teddy liked it, too.” He straightened himself off and folded his arms, and then said, quieter; “And so did the person who had their eye on it before Teddy, I think.”

And there it was. Absolutely called out. Remus had an affinity for laying everything out in front of you when it best suited him.

Sirius smiled, and Remus smiled back, and he took the jacket and admitted defeat. 

The day plundered on; they went out to dinner (another Italian restaurant - they seemed to have an affinity for those) and it was lovely. It was sweet, but not bittersweet. They felt like a unit. Everything was easy. Sirius sipped on his cherry wine and played footsie (in the non romantic way - more in the annoying sibling-y we-are-almost-forty-but-I’ll-be-damned-if-I-let-you-kick-me-harder way) with James, who was sat opposite him, and when his foot slipped and accidentally kicked Remus, who was sat beside James, all he did was laugh in surprise and kick him back - and nobody even noticed. It was them, doing things, being friends, acknowledging each other, and it wasn’t a strange, other-worldly thing. For a minute, or five, or ten, or twenty Sirius could sit there and pretend that the divorce had never even happened. The stretches of time that he was able to dream were getting longer by the day, and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing - if it was leading them to a positive, a strongly foot-held place of acknowledgement where they could work not just beside each other but with each other, or a dreamland, in which they would crash and burn just as they had when they had tried to block out all of the issues that they held close to their hearts before. 

It was tomorrow’s problem. Sirius drank entirely too much wine to even begin to dig through that mess - and he was on holiday, for fuck’s sake. 

Day one bled into day two, as it was wont to do, and tomorrow did not bring enlightenment or acknowledgement but one Remus Lupin getting excited like a child over a bookstore. 

It was the biggest, most twinged with grandeur and perfumed with the smell of hardbacks second-hand bookstore in the county, built into an old train station - it was picturesque. It was somewhere that could be Remus Lupin’s second home - scratch that, it had been his second home, ten or so years ago, and Sirius would sit just as he had that day and watch him plunder through all of the bookshelves, picking out ancient editions of his favourite classics, nonfiction academia work that caught his fancy or just books that looked interesting. Sirius found a book or two that he entertained himself by flicking through, sat on one of the side benches, and every now and then his son or his nephew would appear with something interesting they had found (Teddy bought the entire Percy Jackson set) or Lily would appear and inquire and sit with him, flicking through books on the shelves around them and trying to predict what the ending would be before they got there.

But Remus came to him most of all. Sirius had always entertained his excitement - it was his favourite thing to see, when Remus got a bit too excitable or passionate about something that he cared so near and dear for, and apparently they had not fallen out of that routine either. Not even after all these years did Remus think to not go and sit with Sirius and show him the gorgeous early 20th century copy of Moby Dick, or a huge anthology of all of the Sherlock Holmes tales that he had seen on eBay for about fifty quid but had been putting off in case he found it for cheaper, and look, Sirius, here it is, for nineteen ninety-nine, and isn’t that absolutely brilliant considering that it’s in mint condition and oh, goodness, this place is a blessing, isn’t it?

(It really was.)

The only thing he missed, that specific day, was what came after. Remus curling up on a sofa, by the fire, after Teddy had been put to bed (granted, that change was inevitable considering he was no longer six but sixteen) with his feet in Sirius’ lap. His hair flickering with the draft from the open window on the melancholy, warm summer evening. The breeze tamed by the crackle of the fire, working with his skin so beautifully it toned it a colour that Sirius couldn’t even explain it words; a colour that he would see in a painting in a museum, in Sunset on the Seine 1880 by Monet, or perhaps something less Impressionist - because Impressionism was light, and sweet, and made Sirius feel like his soul was opening up and grass and sunflowers were growing in the crypt of his ribs, interweaved with the bones, and Remus didn’t make him feel like that. Not in those moments. 

In those moments Remus made him feel like he had a storm in his gut - the rising sun burning through his cells and glowing out of every single orifice in his being. He was Romanticism. Dark, natural, hard-hitting. The feeling of every sense being on full blast, eyes flickering at every single molecule as if if he didn’t keep looking he’d miss something, but it was futile, even when he thought he was done because he would just end up looking again, and again, and again at the brush strokes, the imaginative colouring, the beauty of the natural world and the exhibition of personality in the orange tones of his face, and, no, maybe it could be both. Because Sirius felt like he could see the grass and the sunflowers growing through the man that he loved, loved so fucking deeply, even now, he could see it, alongside the devotion and worship and praise to the natural world that was imbued into the brush strokes of his face. 

Art History didn’t have a name for him. He was another thing completely; he would put them all to shame.

And yet it felt like it was missing something, in the lack of touch as he curled into a blanket with one of the dusty old books he had bought and Sirius did not curl up into him. Lily had never liked Impressionism. She had always preferred the fuller strokes, the completion of colour; devoid of the external manifestation of the brush hitting the paper. She felt like there was something missing. She preferred art to be like life. And there was something missing here, too, for the brush stroke had not been long enough, or Remus was too far away; and Sirius, sat on the opposite side of the room, on the other sofa, watching him and watching him and watching him thought that maybe he preferred art to be like life too, and that his existence was a Monet painting, and the life that Lily was talking about sat opposite him in front of the fire, not yet seeping his entity into the gaps between the brush strokes, not yet pulling together the light and the dark and the good and the bad; but getting there. Dropping water like salty tears and mangling the paints together into a mushy, indecipherable blob of colour; yet never making it go murky. Swirling feelings like the wind through Sirius’ hair. Ruining the painting and yet somehow marking it, making it his own, making it better than it ever could’ve been.

(Monet would hate him, truly, for discrediting all of his unique, world-of-art-altering work for the purpose of swirling metaphorical love poetry about another man.)

(He looked at Remus and found that he didn’t really care.)

And sleeping in the same room as him wasn’t even the worst thing in the world. It was quite nice, actually, to be close to him in that way. Sirius had been convinced for four years that if they were in too close proximity for too long that they would burn up - like he had joked, all of those years, about how he world burn if he stepped foot in a church - except worse, because at least his homosexuality wasn’t his choice. There was nothing he could do about the fact that, by the book, religion did not love him (not that churches were not becoming significantly more open, he had to give him that; though his terrible Catholic childhood had left him quite disillusioned in the entire thought, and so he floated through life happily agnostic). But him and Remus had been a choice. A decision. Their ending up in flames would always, ultimately, be Sirius’ fault - he had always imagined seeing it laid out before him, just before the flames choked his eyesight, and thus, his irrationality had been happily surprised every morning when he woke to see Remus Lupin lying opposite him, a couple of feet away, and they were both fine. 

He was starting to think that they could do this. That they could be this - whatever this was. 

Day three was filled chock full of reminders why he couldn’t, and oh, goodness, were they hard-hitting.

They went to Alnwick Castle. It was a beautiful place. The tours for the rooms had such long queues that they decided to hop around the free parts, in the courtyards; the various towers-converted-museums and such, and the entire thing was a memory, burned into the back of his brain.

So much so that Remus opening up his old, ancient Facebook and scrolling all the way down to ten-ish years ago when they had visited, and finding pictures of Teddy in front of monuments and such did not even hurt too much because of the perpetual hurt that he already felt. It was sweet, actually - a relief - when they started imitating all of the pictures of Teddy as a kid in the same spaces, taking reenactment pictures - some that Sirius was even in - it was fun. But every corner was a stone path they had walked; every staircase was one that they had ran up, trying to find him when he went missing that one time; every corner was one that Sirius had sneaked a sly kiss on the cheek, because he was an arsehole, and Remus had called him that time and time again for the PDA and yet had not moved nearly quick enough when he saw him incoming, and did not manage to resist his youthful blush at all when he did it.

It was hard, but he dealt. He lost himself in his memories, time and time again.

“So I’m thinking, tomorrow we go to the markets in Amble,” James was saying, now; later that night as they all sat in the little pub down the road from the cottage they were renting. “There’s that lovely pier, do you remember, Sirius?”

He blinked and then nodded. He absolutely did not remember.

“We saw those kids jumping off the side that one time,” Remus said to him, and if he didn’t know better (he didn’t) it was a prompt, from the one who saw behind his eyes clearer than anyone else did. And yes, he did remember, fuck–

“Oh my god, yeah,” he said, with a little more enthusiasm; giving the whole game away. “We had to physically restrain Teddy from jumping in after them.”

Teddy raised an eyebrow. “Really? I hate water, now.”

“You didn’t then,” Remus said. “Every time we went anywhere Sirius used to have to wear that big red Teddy rucksack with spare clothes because you would always go in the water, even if you said you wouldn’t.”

“Lesson learned: never trust a six-year-old’s word,” Sirius interjected humorously, and everyone laughed slightly. James nodded.

“Damn right,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re always flip-flopping. You were the bloody worst at that age,” he pointed at Harry, who was sipping on his Diet Coke from across the table - he widened his eyes.

“Me?! What did I do? Mum always says I was an alright child.”

“You were,” Lily and James both said simultaneously, and then Lily stepped back to let him elaborate. “For the most part. But I swear to god you used to tell me every single day that you loved egg mayonnaise, couldn’t live without egg mayonnaise; then I’d make you a sandwich and you wouldn’t even eat it!”

Harry burst out laughing, turning to his mum for validation - she nodded. 

“You seem very put-out by that egg mayo,” Teddy said to James, and he gasped in a dramatic dad manner. 

“Of course I am!” he chortled. “The amount of bloody chickens who didn’t even get retribution for their egg period–”

“Oh, James,” Lily moaned, shoving him on the arm slightly. “Not at the table.” He took another sip of his beer with a smile.

“Don’t waste food, kids,” he said warningly. “Non-renewable resources are a killer.”

“Oh, god, please no Science teacher on this trip,” Remus groaned. “I hear enough about it in the staff room.”

James narrowed his eyes, and Remus grinned. Sirius watched between the two with a soft smile and hawk eyes, desperate to absorb every drop of this beautiful convo.

Surprisingly, it was Lily who stepped up to his defence.

“Says you,” she said, putting her drink down. “How long did we spend in Barter Books yesterday?”

Remus gaped.

“Alright, listen,” he said, chuckling slightly, but no one came to his defence. Harry mimed an explosion, and Lily gave her son a high five. “Books aren’t just an English teacher thing. You read!”

“Not like you,” she shot back. “You wanted to pick up every single book in that place. I got my two murder mysteries and I was on my way.”

Remus narrowed his eyes jokily and turned to every person at the table - Teddy was laughing at him, and James was leaning on his chin, garnering reactions. No one came to his defence.

“Okay,” Sirius said, before he even realised it. “In his defence, it is huge.”

“Thank you!” Remus said.

“It’s like a bloody maze in there, you just get lost,” he continued; and then, in a second, he put on a fake pout baby voice and said: “It’s not wickle Remus’ fault if he does’ny have any coordination skills.”

“Oh, I hate you,” Remus seethed, laughing, shoving him by the shoulder. Sirius grinned and let himself go.

“Right, who’s buying the next ones?” James said, blithely, holding up his empty cup with disdain. Sirius cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it,” he said, gruffly as he stood up. James grinned and said something that sounded like “good lad,” which was really rather ironic considering he was four months older than the man (he earned himself a slap around the head as Sirius made his way around the table to the bar.)

It was a quaint little place, the pub down the road - wooden themed and homely - and Sirius leant on the bar slightly while waiting for the sole bartender to prepare the drinks. He ran his hands through his hair lightly, exhaling and turning his neck from side to side to massage out a crick in it. 

He pushed himself off of the bar, and went, apparently, too far back - there was a yelp from behind him.

“Oh, my god,” Sirius said, spinning around - he had almost (almost!) bumped into a man, holding two beers. The man had exclaimed out of shock, but was laughing, now; he turned tightly so that they were quite close together, and they locked gazes.

The first thing Sirius noticed was, well, he was attractive. He had eyes. He couldn’t dispute that. He was East Asian, dark hair and lovely deep eyes, and his gaze cleared, slightly, as he looked at Sirius; the smile faltered. The look he was giving was one that Sirius was very familiar with. 

“Hi,” the man said, slightly bewildered, and Sirius laughed nervously.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t looking--”

“It’s fine,” he said; his voice was low, and clear, and his lips quirked up slightly in a somewhat suggestive smirk. He took a sip of one of the drinks as Sirius locked eyes with him, and; yes, this was a look he had been given many a time, by men and women. (He had, admittedly, thought his days of being hit on were over, but, no, here was this man. Giving him the come hither eyes. He preferred Remus’, but it piqued his curiosity nonetheless.)

“What’s your name?” 

“Sirius,” he said, and the man held out his hand. Sirius took it.

“Benjy,” he said, with a dazzling smile. Sirius nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Sirius said kindly. “Sorry for almost soaking you in Guinness. Not a very good first impression.”

Benjy laughed, and shook his head fondly; Sirius realised that what he said had definitely been on the roads to flirty, and he wasn’t too sure why he felt guilty about it (yes he was). 

“I told you it’s fine,” he said. “First impressions like that tend to stick, you know.”

Sirius nodded, smiling nervously once more. He eyed the two pints, and Benjy seemed to read a little further into it.

“I’m here with my sister,” he said, lightly. “You from around here?”

“No,” Sirius said, and Benjy laughed.

“You know, I could’ve guessed that, actually,” he said with a laugh. “You’re the most southern I’ve heard all week.”

Sirius smiled. “Well, you know what they say. In a land full of Geordies, be a pretentious Oxford bastard.” He paused, and frowned a little. “And then get hate crimed, probably.”

Benjy laughed, loudly, and the barman alerted Sirius to his drinks being read. There were three, for the other three adults of his party. Sirius, himself, had passed up. 

Benjy eyed the drinks.

“So, who are you here with, then?” he asked, and Sirius began to scheme how exactly to get away. “On a family holiday?”

Sirius laughed. “Yeah, something like that. I’m here with my brother, his wife and kid.” Ah, and here was an opening. “And my son.”

Benjy blinked, and then made a fair-enough face that disheartened Sirius entirely. 

God damn people nowadays and their openness to being stepfathers.

“Son, eh?” he said. “How old is he?”

“Sixteen,” Sirius replied, and of course here Benjy looked shocked.

“Wow,” he said. “Had him young, then.”

“You could say that.”

Benjy licked his bottom lip, slightly, and then cleared his throat. “Mother still around?”

Oh, damn. This went the entire wrong way.

Sirius faltered - a clear, obvious hesitation - and Benjy’s interest spiked. He could see it. He wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed.

“Er--” Sirius said, still holding the drinks, praying that the third one didn’t fall out of his hands. “Well, no, but not in the way I think you mean.”

Benjy raised an eyebrow. “And what do you think I mean?”

The hole was getting deeper, and all Sirius wanted to do was go back to sit with Remus. God damn it, god damn it, god da–

“He’s adopted,” Sirius explained, quickly. 

(A very brief explanation for something that was incredibly more complex than that, but adopted seemed to hit the mark, even if it discredited the 50% of Teddy that was actually Remus.)

“Raised him on your own then?”

Come on, man. You look smart.

“No.”

“Ooh,” Benjy said; clarity seemed to fall over him at long last. “Father still around, then?”

Sirius laughed absolutely despite himself; nodded. “And there’s the issue.”

A look of sympathy seemed to flicker on the other's face, and Sirius realised that he probably was a decent guy.

“It’s complicated?”

“Yeah,” Sirius exhaled, laughing bitterly. “Yeah. Very, very complicated.”

“Ah.”

They stood in silence for a long moment.

“Look,” Sirius said, just as Benjy opened his mouth to say something else. “I’m sorry, I - I mean, you’re nice, but it’s way too complicated for me right now to even think–”

“It’s fine,” Benjy said, raising his two hands in a gesture that might have looked like hands of surrender had he not literally had two beers in them. “Honestly.”

Sirius exhaled. “Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” Benjy laughed, and Sirius laughed along with him. “Seriously. Have a night night, man. And–” he stopped and licked his lips again. “I mean, I presume you’re staying somewhere around here?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said.

“Well,” he shrugged, with an air of finality. “Maybe I’ll see you around, then. Feel free to come say hi.”

And before Sirius could even say something in return he had turned and left, to the other side of the pub. Sirius did not watch him go. He exhaled sharply and went right back to his own table.

He deposited the drinks in front of their respective drinkers and slid in where he had been seated beside Remus, who turned and frowned at him.

“You were a while,” he said, quietly. “Something hold you up?”

Sirius blinked at him, and then shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. Nothing important.”

Remus inclined his head, accepting this, and took a sip. Sirius watched him with a tender smile on his face.

***

Harry and Teddy walked home at about nine.

It was getting dark, and cold, and they decided their time would be more usefully spent in the living room playing games on Teddy’s switch, which was fine. They set off - it was only down the road, quite literally a five minute walk - and then it was just the four of them.

And it was so, so nice to be the four of them again. All of them were slightly buzzed (though they were not twenty anymore, and they all tried their best to regulate themselves and their dwindling alcohol tolerance) and it was amazingly fun to have conversations together; to reminisce, together, to talk about their lives, childhoods, their hopes and dreams back then and where they were now, together. Sirius felt a pang of sadness realising that Lily and James had probably spent four years having the same conversations twice over. 

Lily seemed delighted; absolutely, genuinely delighted, giddy and lovely like the flower she was named after. And James - oh, well, James was raucous and loud, but loving, and soft. He got only a tad emotional at around 11, and Sirius felt only slightly like he might cry.

“I love you guys,” he said, gruffly, gripping onto Lily’s hand with one and Sirius’ with the other. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

“Here?” Remus asked, tentatively. Sirius knew damn well he knew the answer.

“Here,” James affirmed. “Just… here. Where we are. After all of these years.” 

It didn’t make sense, but it also did. It made sense in more ways that Sirius ever thought imaginable.

Remus licked his lips and leaned over, slightly jerkily, and placed a cold, smooth hand over Sirius and James’.

Sirius got the brunt of it. He placed his palm over Sirius’ knuckles, laced the lower of his fingers into the upper of Sirius’ own, and he felt, briefly, like he might go mad. Like the simple touch of a hand would be the thing that took him out. He had given up thinking of it as pathetic - he had gotten used to the feeling of his heart in his throat, the feeling of it growing every time he inhaled Remus’ cologne. Remus squeezed, and he smiled at him.

“I missed you guys,” James said, as he and Lily were getting up to leave, and both Remus and Sirius nodded and unspeakingly decided to both pretend that he meant the fact that he hadn’t seen them in a week and not what they both knew he really meant.

And then there were the two of them.

For James and Lily decided to wobble home at about quarter past eleven, and they hadn’t even asked if the two of them were going to come along. Neither of them had given them the option - not that they wouldn’t have let them, had Sirius or Remus stood up to tag along, but it wasn’t an open invite, was the point. And, perhaps, if Remus was as desperate for his company to make up for the past four years as Sirius was, they both took this in their stride; they both saw it as an excuse. They both only let themselves register James and Lily leaving after they had already gone, and oh, there they go, out the door and we’re still here, so we might as well stay, right?

Sirius’ life was a big ol’ wobble; how was Remus supposed to keep him grounded when he was wobbling right along with him?

Because that was what ended up happening that night. They left at perhaps half past midnight - not entirely too late by any means, and the pub closed earlier than usual anyway considering how remote of a location it was - but in that short space of time the two of them had entirely too many drinks that they probably should have for their age, or their tolerance - and where Sirius quite literally worked and managed a bar, back home, Remus Lupin absolutely did not. He had not touched a drop of wine since Teddy’s dinner, and before that– who the fuck knows. 

It had been needed, at first. To let loose. Because, while Sirius’ brain tried to filter out the past and send him up to the toxic dreamworld in which he and Remus could fall back together as easy as puzzle pieces, it truly was not that easy, in reality; they truly were not that used to each other. There were tense pauses, and there were lapses in conversation. It felt, almost - inexplicably, and Sirius’ brain tried to filter out this comparison, too - like a first date. Getting used to each other all over again. Trying to understand a body, an entity that you used to know in a different life; different fucking reality; a body that you traced and climbed up and down, a body that has shifted before your very eyes, except your vision was clouded - you blink and there is a stranger sitting before you. It is a total stranger.

Except - and this was his revelation for the night - it wasn’t, fully. Remus was still Remus. He was the same Remus that Sirius had kissed at fourteen during spin the bottle. The same Remus that had laced their fingers together in the library at sixteen, underneath his jumper; the same Remus that had fucked him in the dormitory while James was out pursuing his flower. The same Remus that he had held after his grandmother died; the same Remus who had held him when his mother refused to die. Touches, feelings, eye contact; facial expressions, lip quirks, smile lines and forehead wrinkles and nostril flares. Where Sirius had been picking up the pieces of the mess they had made in the past few days; past few weeks; oh, fuck it, past few months; it felt like a dam had been opened during the short amount of time where it was them, only them, and their linked pinkies, and their alcoholic drinks. 

And it all came back to him, all of a sudden. He looked at Remus and he didn’t see a stranger, or the hollow shell of the Remus that he used to know; he saw his Remus, and he saw a little bit more. He saw everything that he knew with some baggage. He saw how much he would love to sort through it; instead of feeling forlorn about this person that he did not know, he realised how easy it would be to get to know him. That was his revelation for the night, and it lifted a whole tonne of the fatalistic weight rested on Sirius’ shoulders; the weight that told him that they were broken beyond repair. If they were broken beyond repair, he wouldn’t have been able to see the Remus he was seeing now. He wouldn’t be able to hear his radio silence.

And what was all of this for, then? To feel the warmth of a soft, drunken Remus Lupin at his side as they wobbled down the rocky cobblestones back to the place that they temporarily called home? For the first home they had shared in four years? For the way he smiled, the way he laughed; the way his eyes were slightly unfocused and yet the clouds seemed to draw apart like a stage curtain when he looked at Sirius? For their arms, linked together; linked only when Remus had tripped and almost fallen over, but linked nonetheless? Wrist to wrist, palm to palm, cheek to cheek. It was for all of that and more.

They tumbled in at 1am with a bang, and Remus was laughing; he was laughing at something Sirius had said, and he had no idea what it was, exactly, but all he knew was that he never wanted him to stop.

“Dad?” called a voice from the living room, and the both of them called out “Yeah?” and then burst back into hysterical laughter.

The door to the living room opened and Teddy Lupin-Black popped his head out; Harry just behind him. His face contorted into a large grin when he saw the two of them. They were still clinging to each other.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, intense humour in his voice; Harry laughed from behind him. Sirius, who was by all means not at all sober, but more so than the travesty beside him, rolled his eyes, and Remus shushed him.

“Shhh,” he hissed, holding a finger to his mouth. “You’ll wake your aunt and uncle.”

“They’re here, actually,” Teddy said, opening the door fully to reveal one Lily Evans-Potter stood next to her son, wrapped up in a fluffy dressing gown, clad with slippers, holding a mug of something that was steaming between her two palms. She looked sober. And smug.

Teddy opened the door wider and Sirius and Remus both craned their necks to see James dead to the world in the corner of the sofa, head back, hair an absolute mess. Someone had thrown a blanket over his lap. Sirius stifled a laugh.

“If you think he’s waking up anytime soon, think again,” Lily said, smirking slightly. “Looks like you two had a nice time.”

“Mhm,” Remus said, straightening up. His grip on Sirius got tighter, and his words were only slightly slurred, but it proved to be a problem when he decided what to do with them. “We did. Very fun. We ate a lot of peanuts.”

Lily’s eyes widened, and Harry - who was drinking a glass of water from behind her - choked slightly.

“Peanuts,” Sirius clarified. Teddy was about to burst into laughter, or perhaps tears. “Like, the cashew kind. In the bowls. We bought a few.”

“Lotta peanuts,” Remus murmured, and Sirius laughed and heaved him to the side slightly.

“Right,” he said, attempting sober and thinking he was doing a pretty good job, actually. “We are going to go to bed.”

“Yes, I think you should,” Lily said, sympathetically, and Teddy nodded.

“Need any help?” he offered, and they both shook their heads in tandem.

“We’re fine,” Remus said. He climbed up three steps, and then smiled, as if it was an achievement. “See?”

Lily smiled, and shut the door, and Sirius pretended not to hear the laughter coming from inside the room.

They made it to the bathroom, and brushed their teeth majorly in silence; Remus started before him, and so he finished before him, and once Sirius had spat and rinsed and put his toothbrush back in the holder he turned to see Remus sat on the toilet seat, his head in his hands. Sirius sighed.

“You okay?” he said, kneeling down before him and smoothing Remus’ hair over his forehead. He lifted his head up, aware and in control, but kept his eyes closed; he rubbed his temples slightly.

“Spinning,” he murmured. Sirius laughed, and Remus’ lips quirked up whether he wanted them to or not. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius cooed, and Remus smiled, fully, now, eyes still closed. Sirius rested his hands on his knees. “You could never handle your alcohol, love.”

“I could,” Remus whined; he opened his eyes now, and he looked so fucking soft that Sirius wanted to die right then and there. “I wasn’t bad. You were just better.”

“And apparently I still am.”

“Unfair circumstances,” Remus murmured; his hands fell to rest on top of Sirius’, and neither of them seemed to notice anything wrong with it. “You work in a bar. I’m a teacher. My tolerance had gone…” He raised one hand and did an airplane gesture, complete with mouth noises, like the ones that used to used on Teddy with a spoon to get him to eat his greens. He mimed an explosion at the bottom. Sirius laughed.

“You were never good with wine, either,” Sirius pointed out. “And yet you fucking absorbed that Pinot Grigio.”

“It was so good,” Remus said; almost sobbed, really, except instead of crying he was laughing, his face falling into his hands. He rocked forward, slightly, and Sirius squeezed his knees.

“Wine-drunk Remus will be a terror for me to look after tomorrow,” Sirius said offhandedly, and Remus paused; let his hands drop from his face. Back onto Sirius’. He sniffed, slightly, and blinked at him slowly through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he said, quietly. 

It was soft. It was an offer. There was lace weaved between the words. The desperate twang of want, and the stubbornity to give in to wanting. Sirius smiled.

“Of course I do,” he said, simply; as if there was no other choice. As if it was unfathomable that he wouldn’t. And it was, really.

Remus inhaled slowly, and this was the part where he would freak out. This was the part where he would lean back; where Sirius would rip his hands out from underneath him, help him to bed. Perhaps get him some water and some paracetamol. Spend the night dreaming of soft wine-drunk Remus - his favourite Remus, in all honesty, even in spite of the killer hangover he would always get - who used to make him tea, and kiss his nose; braid his hair, over and over. 

But that was when they were young. They were not young anymore. And Remus; this Remus, the Remus with the baggage, the new land for him to expedite and discover; was brazen. 

The first thing that Sirius discovered, in the dimly lit bathroom in a cottage in Northumberland; Remus Lupin was bold. 

For he leaned forward, in barely a split second, and captured Sirius’ lips with his own.

Clockwork. He had been saying it, time and time again, and it did not abate for this. Sirius pushed immediately, reacted immediately; whatever part of his brain stood for rationality was sitting, and whatever part loved Remus Lupin - let’s be realistic, the whole fucking thing - was standing, cheering, screaming; giving them a standing fucking ovation as Remus pressed in, captured his bottom lip between his own, swiped a tongue into his mouth. It was intoxicating. It was as it had always been; as it always would be; everything. Everything, everything, everything.

Remus moaned, and lifted his hands up to cup Sirius’ face, and he shuffled forwards inadvertently; in between Remus’ open legs, hands gripping the rim of the lid underneath his thighs; gripping his thighs; gripping his waist; and Sirius was at a slight disadvantage, on his knees, and Remus had to crane his neck while Sirius had to lift his up and it almost mimicked their height difference while standing - it almost felt like it was normal. Sirius closed his eyes and they could’ve been kissing four years ago, their last, salty tear-stained kiss; they could’ve been kissing eight years ago, on the sofa with a shitty show on ITV playing in the background; they could’ve been kissing fifteen years ago, getting married in the beautiful English summer, in the gorgeous countryside. 

They could’ve been twenty-five, in Spain. Remus’ lips slotted between his like they belonged there, and they could be anywhere in the fucking world. 

And Sirius realised, as Remus bit his lip, tasting like toothpaste and cherry wine, that the people in the picture were no longer strangers. Maybe they were distant friends. Maybe old lovers. Maybe new lovers. 

Maybe– maybe both.

Remus gripped his hair, and the jolt seemed to knock the standing ovation down - the rationality stood up and put his foot down, the intoxication was purged from his system, kicking and screaming. Sirius, with a gasp and all of the willpower that he could manifest out of the hollow cells of his bones, pulled back.

Remus whined, and Sirius had never been so weak in his whole entire life.

“We can’t,” he gasped, and Remus looked dumbstruck; eyes glazed, lips pink and parted. Sirius shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut; trying to get the images out of his head. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Remus whispered. Sirius let out a shaky breath; fell back onto his heels.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You don’t want this, Remus,” Sirius breathed sadly. “You’ll regret it.”

Remus shook his head; Sirius nodded his. 

“You don’t want it, baby,” he repeated, and Remus closed his mouth instantly.

He took a breath, and spoke again, tentatively;

“And you do?”

“Yes,” Sirius said; almost groaned, the noise coming from the very back of his throat where it had been lodged there for over a month. “Yes, god yes, I want nothing more. I want you. I want you so much it’s killing me, Remus.”

Remus frowned, bewildered. “Then why can’t we–”

“Because I know you,” Sirius said. He brought his hands up to cover both of his eyes. “This isn’t how you want it. This isn’t how you– this isn’t how we–”

He dropped his hands; took a deep, deep breath. Stared at a sad little corner of the dirty, tiled floor, because if he were to look at Remus he’d kiss him, he’d fuck him, he’d ruin him and he couldn’t do that and live with himself afterwards.

“Drunk on the floor of a bathroom has never been your style,” he settled for. “This would just make things worse, and I can’t… I can’t do worse.” 

He took a deep, trying breath, and, with all of the maturity and all of the willpower that he could muster, hauled himself up. Staggered back a bit. Looked Remus in the eye, and that was the most painful thing of all.

“Worse would kill me,” he muttered, dropping eye contact. He turned and he walked out of the bathroom and downstairs without a second thought.

Lily was in the kitchen. He hadn’t been counting on it - he wasn’t entirely sure why he had gone to the kitchen, it was only ten minutes later that he realised it was probably to get a glass of water for Remus - but there she was. The living room door was shut. Sirius shut the kitchen door behind him, and she was at him in a flash. His face was just that readable, apparently.

“I should’ve gone up with you,” she murmured, pulling him into her small frame. “What happened?”

“He kissed me,” Sirius said on autopilot. She squeezed him tighter.

“Is he okay?”

“Probably not.”

“Are you okay?”

Sirius did not respond. He did not respond, because he, unforgivably, started to cry.

Lily held him there for a long ten minutes. She didn’t get him to speak any more, which he was entirely thankful for. She sat him down, once he had stopped crying, and ran him a glass of water. Forced him to drink it. She ran him another one, and then a third, but not for him - she slipped out and upstairs for five minutes. 

It made Sirius feel worse, in all honesty. That she was taking care of him. It should’ve been him.

He ended up sleeping beside Lily in the double bed; James in his room with Remus. He inquired as far as “Is he okay?” and got “He’s asleep,” in return, which was about enough, to be honest.

He fell asleep fitfully, feeling the sand slipping through his fingers. Feeling the presence of another body in the room opposite. He stared at the wall with all of his might and hoped, nonsensically, that Remus might be feeling him, too.

***

He didn’t see Remus at all until about six p.m. the next day.

He had been right - wine-drunk Remus was a terror, still, after all these years, and it was Lily who was taking care of him. Sirius wasn’t too bad - headachey and slightly nauseous but nothing he couldn’t bounce back from (god knows he had been doing it all his life); and James, of course, did not have a hangover, because he was some sort of Norse God in the body of a feeble South Asian Science teacher, and Sirius absolutely despised him for it.

He went to the beach with the boys, laid in the sun. They decided it would be a chill day, today, seeing as the adults were reeling (and, let him fucking tell you that Teddy and Harry had the last fucking laugh) and so Lily joined them, eventually, and then James; who ran with them in the water while Sirius and Lily laid in the shade.

“How is he?” Sirius asked, quietly.

“He’s okay,” she said, simply. Sirius bit his lip.

“Does he remember–”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, giving him a sad smile. “Yeah, he does.”

They fell into silence, but Lily could evidently sense the agitation. She turned to him.

“I think you should talk to him,” she said. “I’m not going to be a messenger, okay? Not like I was before.”

“I didn’t–”

“I know you didn’t, love,” she said softly. “Just wanted to let you know. Talk to him now, rather than later.”

And that’s where he was. Talking to him now, rather than later. 

Six P.M, on the dot.

Remus was in Lily’s dressing gown, sitting at the kitchen table with a mug in front of him. He jumped when the door opened, and deflated when Sirius edged in - but only just. He straightened up.

“Hi,” he said, unbelievably softly, and Sirius couldn’t take it, but he had to.

“Hi,” he said back. Remus smiled and pulled out a chair for him.

“Sit,” he said, and Sirius did. 

Remus took a deep breath and looked up to him.

“Thank you.”

Sirius gaped. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but that wasn’t it.

“For…?”

“For having sense,” Remus almost laughed. He rubbed a hand over his face, took a deep breath. “For not taking advantage. For… knowing.”

Sirius blinked.

“For knowing.”

“Knowing that that wasn’t…” he started, tripping over his words. “I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted it to be… like that.”

Sirius took a long, long moment to sort out his words, and the implications.

“But… you would’ve wanted it to… be?” he said, almost nonsensically to anyone outside of the conversation. 

Remus’ face screwed up, and - ah, there we go. All of his hopes shattered. Glass on the fucking floor.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, and god fucking damn, Remus Lupin was nothing but consistent. Nothing but confusing. Nothing but heartbreaking.

And maybe Sirius really should pack the universe away. Take it out on a yearlong trip. Five years. Ten years. It would probably take about that long to mend his hollow heart; he wasn’t sure how it was still beating.

He expressed none of this.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he said, because he respected Remus’ wishes. He respected it. He did.

But Remus reached a hand out to hold over his own, and Sirius realised, almost instantly, that he couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t do this. Holy shit, he absolutely could not do this.

They would finish this holiday, they would go back down south, and he would take another week off of work. He would go stay in a nearby city - Brighton, maybe. Hang around. Or he would go down to Cornwall, go stay in James’ old home. Monty and Effie were long dead, bless their souls, but the house was still there; James rented it out at his parents request. He was pretty sure it was empty - he’d rent it himself for the week. Go there, take no communications, take nothing but himself, clothes, and cash, and he’d try to get over Remus Lupin. He’d try - he’d do anything to get over him, he’d swim the English Channel and back if it meant that he could come home and not feel this pain in his chest every time he looked at him. Every time he had to speak to him. 

He cursed himself for stealing his tomatoes. He cursed Remus for thieving his milk. He cursed himself for parking too close to him in the fucking Tesco car park. He cursed himself for ever loving him in the first place, when all it brought him was a living, waking nightmare.

Look at the fucking mess we have gotten ourselves into, love. Look at the trail of ashes in our wake.

And that conversation had been that, he supposed. They had gone stale. No, that was unfair - not stale, but the energy at the pub was long gone. The comfortability on the beach, the attunement in the charity shops, the kinship at the bookstore. It was all gone; the blood ran cold. 

They were kind, and they were courteous, but they were not Sirius and Remus.

All of the progress that they had made was gone, and Sirius couldn’t even explode for it - he couldn’t even go off on one, he couldn’t even blame anyone. 

He couldn’t blame Remus. He tried. He really fucking tried.

Fuck Remus for kissing him, fuck Remus for not loving him enough to kiss him again. Fuck Remus for being it for Sirius. Fuck him for being it. He was it. He was it. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

(Sirius could scream fuck Remus Lupin from the highest mountaintops; he could yell it from the lowest oceans until his lungs filled up with salt water, and he choked a blissful death. He would never mean it.)

And a night passed, a cold night in their shared room, and the day came, and they went to visit some gardens at a location that Sirius didn’t listen to. It was attached to some mansion, with a coffee shop, and a trail that bled into wilderness, flowers galore - every single flower you could think of, roses that smelled divine and tulips and lavender, violets and hydrangeas and, to James’ delight, lilies, that glittered in the sunlight on the water of the pond where they resided. 

It all seemed stale to Sirius. The roses lost their scent. 

He admired the beauty, but he felt, utterly melodramatically, like he couldn’t connect to it anymore. Like Remus had snapped off the edge of him that saw colour, or something just as sickening. Tossed it into the ocean to let it rust with the rest of his mangled soul.

He plundered on through the day to get to the night.

They got back earlier than expected. It was still quite sunny out, and so Lily suggested they go back to the beach - she probably wouldn’t have, had the forecast not called for rain tomorrow - as it felt like their last chance. And so the six of them plundered down to the sand, and Teddy and Harry went to walk up the beach, probably to grab signal on their phones, while James sunbathed, and Lily read a book. It really was quite blistering, so Sirius took his shirt off.

“You have a new tattoo,” came the quiet voice. He turned, and Remus was looking at him from behind sunglasses, his lips slightly parted.

Sirius frowned. He was irritated by this statement.

“Yeah,” he said. He had had four new tattoos, actually, since he and Remus had ended. 

A spinal piece. A dagger on the side of his ribcage. A dragon on his right shoulder blade. And vines, trailing up his right arm - he had what was probably about two thirds of a sleeve, and where it had been slightly disconnected, before, this one felt like it had brought it all together. It felt like it was pulling him together, what was left of him. It had been the first one he had gotten after the divorce.

Remus wasn’t even looking at that one, though. 

He was looking at his ribcage. Sirius swivelled, slightly, to show it off - it was one of his favourites, to be honest. A simple, regal-looking dagger. It was slightly out of place in comparison to his other tattoos, but he thought that was fitting. Remus’ hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch it, and then he decided against it.

“It’s beautiful,” Remus said, and it didn’t feel like he meant it; it felt like he was extending kindness. Sirius exhaled.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping that it sounded the same way.

And that was that. 

Sirius lay back in his chair and let the sun wash over him. He let it burn into him. It was comforting, almost, like a hug; a hug he needed. He could probably have fallen asleep there, actually, had he not heard a voice call his name.

“Sirius!”

His eyes flew open, and there was Benjy - Benjy, from the fucking pub, for fucks sake - a few paces away. He squinted, and then got up; he gripped his shirt in one hand and put on a smile.

“Hi,” the man said, grinning. “Told you I’d see you around. I didn’t actually believe it, though.”

Sirius laughed, though it was grating; he felt a twang of annoyance at the man's presence, for a moment, and then stopped and rethought it. Was he going to be petty? Was this what he was resorting to? Making Remus Lupin jealous? Not that it would probably even work, he didn’t care–

He turned. Remus was staring fucking daggers at the man. Daggers as sharp as the one on his ribcage.

… Okay.

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius laughed. “Caught me at a bad time, though. This isn’t pretty,” he said, somewhat shyly. He covered his torso with his shirt, and Benjy shook his head.

“Nah,” he said, looking him up and down and over, shaking his head. “No, you’re alright.”

And, you know fucking what, maybe this was it. Maybe going to Brighton or to Cornwall, taking a week off, disconnecting himself from life wasn’t what he needed. Maybe it was just… someone else. Someone to take his mind off it. And, God, he knew how bad that sounded - he knew how awful it made him to use someone else's feelings for his own, selfish, rebound-y gain, but god, if he had to think about Remus Lupin any longer he would go fucking crazy, and here was a perfect excuse to think about something, anything else.

He smiled up at him.

“Say, that one is gorgeous,” Benjy said, pointing vaguely to Sirius’ ribs, and he lowered his hands - twisted his torso so the dagger was on full display. Benjy whistled. “Wow.”

“It’s one of my favourites,” Sirius said sweetly, and he hated himself for it. He twisted around, looked into Benjy’s eyes. Searched for that look. The look he had seen before. The look that Remus would not give him.

And there it was.

“Do you want my number?” came hurtling out of his mouth at full speed; it even shocked him. Benjy froze, and then he raised an eyebrow.

“Change your mind?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. He felt both Lily and Remus’ eyes on him. 

“What happened to the…” Benjy said, trailing off as his eyes flickered to somewhere over Sirius’ shoulder; and he couldn’t see, but he knew he had locked eyes with Remus. He cleared his throat to bring his gaze back to him.

“Nothing,” Sirius said, quickly, dismissively. “You’re just… you’re nice. And I’d like to see you again. And not by chance when I’m half naked on the beach.”

Benjy shrugged. “I don’t know… I’m not complaining.”

Sirius smiled and looked down at the ground, flustered. “Alright. Alright, then.”

“Alright.” He pulled out his phone. Sirius typed in his number on autopilot. Remus’ gaze was cutting into his back.

“Right,” he said, giving it back, and Benjy nodded.

“Right. Well, I’d best be off to find my sister, then,” he said. “I definitely left her somewhere over there when I saw you.”

Sirius laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Go on, then.”

He turned, and left; sending Sirius one more sweet smile over his shoulder before striding across the sand, directly towards the sea. Sirius let out a deep, deep breath. 

He didn’t want to turn around.

He did.

Lily looked absolutely, genuinely bewildered. As in, eyes narrowed, mouth open, brows knitted together. As if she was surprised at his audacity. Confused where it had come from. Exasperated that she was going to have to be at the brunt of it. Angry at the root of it - because of course she knew why he just did what he did. Of course she did.

Remus’ face was indecipherable.

It had simply fallen. Sunken, slightly. His lips were one, unquirking line, and his eyes were hollow, heavy lidded; slightly narrowed at him. He was simply… looking. Sirius looked at him, and he stared back, and in the five seconds that he stood there Remus’ brows grew closer and closer together, his mouth grew more and more pinched until he snapped the book he was reading shut. It made Sirius jump.

And in a second he stood up, dusted himself off, and turned and walked away. Back towards the house.

He looked at Lily.

“You are an arsehole,” she said, simply, and Sirius nodded.

“I know.”

“A genuine dickhead,” she continued. “Absolute wankstain.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

“Why did you do that?” she said, except it was less like a question and more like a statement. A sad statement. Sirius turned to where Remus had disappeared to, and couldn’t see him anymore.

“I just…” he started. “He doesn’t want me, Lily, and I can’t spend my entire life pining over him. I can’t do it anymore. I just - I need something, someone–”

Lily stood up.

“Do you seriously think that he doesn’t want you?”

Sirius’ neck jerked back to her. He frowned.

“Yes? He said–”

“Oh my god,” Lily exclaimed, bringing her hands to her head with a smack. “Oh my god. I was trying so hard to not get involved– let you two realise on your own–”

“Realise what?”

Lily looked like she was about to explode. Like she was about to rain fire on the entire beach - put out the fucking ocean.

“He’s in love with you!” she cried; yelled, actually, arms thrown out wide, a tidal wave over his head. Her foot stomped, slightly. “You’re in love with each other! Mutual love! Oh my god!”

Sirius’ mouth ran dry.

“No he’s not,” he said, slowly. “He’s not. He’s not, because he would’ve said–”

“Would he?” she asked. “Do you know Remus at all?”

“Yesterday,” Sirius finished, barely a splutter. “Yesterday, when we talked about - about the kiss. It was perfect timing for him to–”

“Do. You know. Remus. At all?” she said, in segments, taking two tense steps towards him. “His fucking walls are up, Sirius, he’s terrified.”

“But–”

“Shut up,” Lily snapped. “I don’t wanna hear it. You’re both fucking idiots; can’t you see? Can you not see the way he looks at you? I mean, if he’s not in love with you then just fuck me sideways and call me Sandra, because oh my god, you two are exhausting.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Sirius asked. “I mean - was he just planning on doing nothing about it?! He knows how I feel–”

“But I don’t think he knows how he does, love,” Lily said, sadly. “If you ask me, he’s repressed it for so long that he’s convinced himself he’s not in love with you.”

“Long?!” Sirius choked. “You’re saying-- I just-- how long, exactly, are you estimating here, Lily?”

“God, you really are stupid,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. She unlinked one and pointed in the direction of the house. “Go ask him yourself.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now, genius!” she cried. “Except - act like I haven’t said anything. If you go in there guns ablazing he’s just going to cramp back up into his shell, like a bloody hermit crab. Go coax it out of him yourself. If anyone can get Remus Lupin’s stubborn ass to admit anything, it’ll be you.”

“How do you know?” Sirius asked. “How do you…?”

Lily’s demeanour changed entirely. She deflated; gave him a soft, almost pitiful smile.

“I’ve been there, Sirius,” Lily said. “Watching. Four whole years I’ve been watching you both be in love with each other and not do anything about it. This is your moment to do something about it.”

Sirius frowned. “I haven’t been in love with him for four–”

“Go,” Lily said; laughed, almost, pointing back to the house, and Sirius nodded. 

He slipped his shirt back on, went to find his sandals, and was gone without a second glance; though he was rather sure that, as he was leaving, Lily collapsed into her deck chair and muttered “Boys,” with a sense of absolute exhaustion.

***

He checked every single room before he found him.

The living room. The kitchen. All three bedrooms, the bathroom. He hit James and Lily’s bedroom last, and, at a loss, just by chance happened to glance out of the window, and there he was.

In the garden.

Sirius ran downstairs immediately.

The back door opened into a small, stone-pathed seating area before it bled into the grass and the actual garden. The table and chairs were black metal, intricately designed, like the vines trailing up Sirius’ arm, and Remus was sitting with his back to the door, cigarette smoking gently between his fingers. The garden faced the west and thus the sun was setting, ever so slowly, ever so gently upon them - not exactly a sunset at 6pm in the pits of summer, but low enough that the rays were shining warm through the whistling willow tree that drooped over the fence at the end of the garden.

He opened the door, and Remus turned around. He took one look at him, rolled his eyes into a close and turned back.

“Remus–”

“Sirius, please don’t,” he said, taking another drag of the cigarette. Sirius stood, looking at his back; watching the smoke rise, halo his figure. “I don’t really want to talk to you.”

Strategy in place. Don’t spook him. Don’t say too much. Don’t say too little. Get him to realise for himself. You can’t force a horse to drink. You can’t walk on eggshells around Remus Lupin for the rest of your fucking life.

“What do you want, then?” Sirius asked. Remus sighed. 

Sirius straightened up and took the four circular paces around the table to meet his eye. Remus looked up at him. Gave him a withered sort of glance. A tired sort of plead.

And then he seemed to deflate.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, looking down. 

“Yes, you do,” Sirius breathed. Remus looked up at him brazenly, frown on his face, and Sirius almost took a step back. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Give that- that guy your number.”

Sirius blinked. Assessed.

“Am I not allowed to do that?” he asked. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” Remus snapped. “You’re allowed to do that. But not– I mean, in front of me? Really?”

“Remus,” Sirius said, carefully. “We haven’t been together for four years.”

“And yet, you told me not two days ago that your feelings about me haven’t changed,” Remus said; he put out his cigarette in the ashtray easily. Brushed himself off. Sirius could feel the temperature between them rising. “Forgive me if I’m a little confused?”

“And you told me yesterday that yours have,” Sirius pressed. Remus narrowed his eyes at him. “You shut me down, Remus. What am I supposed to do? Wait for you for the rest of my life? Wither away until you were brave enough to have me again?”

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He heard the unspoken, selfish yes.

Sirius rubbed his temples roughly with both hands; turned around, paced a little. Exhausted some of the frustrated energy he felt looking at his ex-lovers face.

“I mean–” Sirius continued, whirling back around. Remus stood up as he paced closer. “What the fuck are my options here? I’m not allowed to be with you, but I’m not allowed to be with anyone but you? How does that make sense?”

“I never said you weren’t allowed,” Remus said quietly, and Sirius smiled. It was a pathetic gesture.

“But you’re angry about it,” he said, gently. “And you know that I will bend to your wind. No matter what it is. I’d block him right now if you just said the word, that’s how much influence you have over me.”

Remus said nothing, just exhaled slowly. Looked down at his hands - twiddled them together, slightly. On a whim Sirius took a step forward and took them. Both of them. Just held them, gently.

“You have to understand what you’re doing to me, here, Remus,” Sirius said, frustration climbing its way through the gaps of his gritted teeth. “You have to understand that I can’t do it much longer.”

“Then go,” Remus said, taking a step back. Pulling his hands out of Sirius’. Pulling his footing from underneath him. Sirius looked up and saw that he had tears in his eyes. 

And Sirius was getting angry.

“I can't– go, Remus!” he said in fragments, soundwaves hurtled from the bottom of his soul. “I can’t. You’re in me. And you can’t either. You know that, Remus, you know it. We’ve had four whole fucking years of knowing it.”

Remus shook his head; Sirius nodded his. A stray tear fell down his cheek, and he breathed in shakily. 

“Just say the words, baby,” Sirius whispered; pleaded. “Please. Please. Just say them.”

“I can’t,” Remus said. “I can’t, because they’ll ruin me again.”

“No, they won’t,” Sirius pressed. Insisted with every optimistic bone in his body. “You’re catastrophizing again, Remus. You’re ruining us before we’ve even tried.”

“We have tried–”

“And what - we hit a bump in the road–”

“A bump?!” Remus hissed, and then actually laughed - bitter and harrowing. “You call the past four years a bump?”

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “No, it- it was an abyss. But we can fill it back up again, can't you see?”

Remus let out a sharp breath. Shook his head again, but this time it was minute.

“I can’t fall in love with you again,” Remus said, as if it was a mantra. Robotic. There was no heart behind his words; no feeling. 

It was a wall. It was the wall. 

Sirius straightened up. He prepared to kick it down.

“I think you’re already there, baby,” he said, sadly, and Remus took a wary step back.

“No.”

“Remus, why do you care that I gave that man my number?”

“Stop it.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Sirius.”

“Why did you come back to me?” Sirius pressed, and Remus’ bottom lip was trembling, and Sirius was quite sure his own tears had fallen; curled; cowered at his chin like they belonged there. “Why did you keep irritating me? Why did you never let up, for four fucking years? Why did we always end up on the path back to each other?”

Remus blinked, and tears fell down the same old path, the path they knew, down his face like a mirror of Sirius; they were always mirrors of each other. They were always going to end up back here. The pot was on boil; the sun was hurtling toward earth, destroying everything in their path, encompassing them in her rays until they burnt. 

But they were burning together. They were always, always burning together.

And with a shaky breath in, and salt water coating the corners of his lips, Sirius opened his mouth and whispered, again; “Why did you come back to me?”

And Remus blew.

“Fine!” he yelled, pushing himself off the corner of the chair; hurtling himself into the abyss. “Fine! Okay! I’m in love with you! Is that what you want to fucking hear, Sirius?! Is that it?!”

“Yes,” Sirius choked. Remus went on.

“I’m in love with you, and it’s breaking me, Sirius. It’s breaking me. You utter fucking asshole. You motherfucker. I hate you,” he cut off here, breathing, in and out, shaky and unstable, “I hate you so much, and I’m so fucking in love with you I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

He rubbed his hands roughly against his face, and they were shaking. And he was a travesty. And he was Sirius’ travesty.

“I don’t– I mean, I can’t–” Remus stammered, shaking his head as if he couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts. He exhaled everything he had, and gestured up and down himself bitterly. “God, is this what you want from me, Sirius? A broken fucking mess? Is that what you wanted to hear?!”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Sirius said. Sobbed, really. “You’re all I want. All of you. Any of you. Broken or whole, it makes no difference to me.”

He took a step forward to try to get him to calm down, but Remus was a rocket. He was a firework. He was a wonder.

“And I never said that I didn’t want you - I never said that I didn’t need you. My feelings never fucking changed. I said we couldn’t, because I am so– so scared of losing myself again,” he seethed. He shook his head. “I can’t end again like we ended. You felt like a lung that had been ripped out of my fucking chest, and I- I can’t–” 

He banged the heel of his palm against his chest, once, twice, and they were both crying. And Sirius took a step forward. His feet carried him to his heart, where his heart had always been; where his soul resided. Where they met. Broken fucking chest to broken fucking chest. Pieces and pieces and ash and ash.

“I know,” he breathed, reaching out a hand and gripping onto Remus’ collar, his chest. The sides of his neck. The apples of his cheeks. He circled his thumbs roughly on his cheeks, mashed up his tears with his touch. He dug his nails into the nape of his neck. He memorised him like the last map on earth. “I know, my love, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“This is it,” Remus whispered shakily. He knocked his forehead against Sirius’, and they both closed their eyes. “If we’re going to do this, this has to be it, Sirius.”

“It is.”

“We can’t mess this up again. I can’t do another four years of this.”

“I know,” Sirius choked, nodding his head relentlessly. “We’ll do it right this time. We’ll do it all right, baby.”

“We’ll communicate,” Remus said, raking his fingers through his hair. “We’ll- we’ll work through things instead of letting them consume us.”

“Anything.”

“We’ll speak to people,” Remus murmured, and Sirius nuzzled his face further into him; pressed his lips against his cold, damp cheek. Didn’t push, just kept them there. Let him fill him up like water - like an abyss.

And Remus snaked his arms further around Sirius’ shoulder, nuzzled his own head into his hair, the side of his head. Pressed a kiss to his ears. Sobbed a little against his body.

“We’ll get fucking couples therapy,” Remus choked, half a sob and half a laugh, and it was so stupidly humorous that Sirius began to laugh - he felt Remus heave against him and knew that he was laughing too, and they were mending. He could feel it.

“Anything,” Sirius repeated, still chuckling slightly; and if he could pour his entire essence into the small space between their bodies he would. Fill them up with liquid gold. Mix their ashes until they were one whole entity. 

He pressed a kiss to Remus’ skin, and it was intoxicating. “I’ll do anything, as long as you’re mine.”

Remus pulled back, but his hands did not loosen on Sirius’ skin. He trailed them around, over his shoulders and back up to his cheeks; he tilted Sirius’ face up like he was going to kiss him.

“I am yours,” he whispered, and it was gritty and smoky and absolutely fucking divine. “Christ, Sirius, I’ve always been yours. It’s always been you. For twenty-two years and probably the rest of my life. You’re it, baby. You’re it.”

And the fact that he was Remus Lupin’s baby once more was the final pin to be ripped out of his hinges, and the door fell; the wave crashed through, unrestrained yet tame. Happy. And he sobbed, there; pulled Remus’ face into his without a second fucking thought, and kissed him; kissed him like Remus was air and Sirius was drowning. Kissed him like he had never kissed him before, and their baggage mingled together, exchanging pleasantries. Every single door was open. He had the universe between his fingertips, and he was never, ever letting it go.

Remus staggered back, slightly, kissing him back like his life depended on it - and it did. It felt like it did. Sirius gripped his cheeks with as much force as he could muster and Remus wrapped his arms around his waist, closing whatever gap was left - whatever gap hadn’t been filled by their tears, by their love, so insurmountable and overbearing that it almost toppled them over, and the only form of balance came with Sirius’ fingertips on his cheeks and Remus’ gripped onto his waist, slotted into place just like they had ten years ago. Familiar, and comforting. Everything, and everything, and everything.

And Sirius may have been a tad melodramatic, thinking that this Remus wasn’t his Remus, because there was absolutely no trace of the stranger he had been letting his mind permeate the man in front of him now. There was no trace of the stranger in his wandering hands, in his lips, the way they slotted together like puzzle pieces. His tongue in his mouth, pulling noises that had lain dormant in the back of Sirius’ throat for months; years, probably, saving their breath for the only person who deserved it. The only person who he wanted. His hometown; his nation.

Remus fucking Lupin. Doomed fucking lovers. Tragic fucking heroes. There was nothing tragic about the way he was holding Sirius, now. The soul they had beaten and bruised was repairing itself with every swipe of his tongue along Sirius’ bottom lip, every clash of their teeth and every canine bitten down in a territorial mark - mine, all mine, always mine, forever mine.

They were stars. They could be a thousand miles away - a thousand light years projected into space - and as long as Sirius’ fingertips could feel the heat of his skin, he would always call it home.

“Upstairs,” Remus gasped, pulling away; their noses slotted next to each other, breath mangling into one. Skin and grasps so tight they were unsure where they ended and the other began. Neither of them seemed to care.

“Mhm,” Sirius nodded, hummed; pushed back in to kiss him again, moving one foot at a time with absolutely terrible coordination considering his face was glued to his lovers. He almost tripped over a chair leg, and Remus caught him with ease. They looked at each other once and burst out laughing, Sirius collapsing against his chest, and it was the beach and more. It was balance. It was a full circle, two clumsy bastards who only saw each other trying to navigate their way through a booby-trapped life. Sirius climbed up his chest and kissed him again, Remus craning his neck fully forward to reach him, and he laughed against his lips. It was absolutely euphoric. 

The stairs were a journey. They couldn’t let go of each other. They couldn’t bear to let go of each other, not again, after four years of being a stranger to the person they wanted most in the world. It was the most relieving feeling that Sirius had ever experienced. He was almost certain he would never feel anything like it; almost certain that he’d never feel anything bad, ever again, as long as he had Remus Lupin within arms distance. As long as he had him, back pushed against the door to the bedroom, staggering through, arms around his neck, lips at his jaw, lips at his throat. Remus kicked the door closed with his foot and they walked nonsensically, attached to each other until Sirius hit the side of his bed and fell backwards, and Remus fell with him, laughing all the way, mouth thrumming energy at the pit of his throat and hands cold and intoxicating underneath his shirt.

And Sirius was starting to think that clockwork was his middle name, because everything worked like it used to - everything felt like it used to, every inch of him on fucking fire, possibly more so with the want of a thousand stars, the weight of his namesake, and the want of four years that felt like a thousand and one. 

And Remus wasn’t going anywhere. The waves crashed harder and the sun set further and Sirius let go with a gasp and the imprint of Remus’ open mouth pressed to his collarbone, sweaty and messy and downright fucking beautiful, absolutely divine; it burnt a hole into him that no tattoo could ever replicate. A hole that nothing except Remus could ever fill, and he welcomed it with heavy lids and open arms. And Remus wasn’t going anywhere if Sirius had anything to say about it; though he didn’t have to, because he collapsed into his chest and stayed there. Sirius never wanted him to move again. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and closed his eyes in utter bliss.

He woke to darkness, and skin against skin, and Remus raising his head and looking up at him with a goofy grin and the stars in his eyes. Sirius laughed, and Remus laughed along with him.

“Hi,” he said, high-pitched, as if he was talking to a baby, and Remus shuffled a little and pulled himself upwards to press a kiss to Sirius’ lips.

“Hi,” he murmured back; his voice was croaky with sleep, and his hair was a mess of sex and sweat, and Sirius had quite possibly never loved him more.

“What time is it?” Sirius said, his own voice slightly hoarse; Remus frowned. 

“I don’t know where my phone is,” he said, leaning over to try and reach for his jeans on the floor, and Sirius wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back to his position. Remus laughed in exasperation.

“Don’t move,” Sirius said. “Stay here. Stay here forever.”

“You asked what time it was. I have to move to find out.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll never know,” he teased, and Remus grinned and kissed him again, deeper, this time. He ran his hands through his hair and Sirius hummed happily into his mouth, lips contorting into a smile. Remus pulled back and giggled like a child, dropping his head back into the crook of his neck, and Sirius held him.

He raised his head again. “You know,” he said, contemplatively, and Sirius raised an eyebrow. “We haven’t had sex in a single bed since we were at school.”

Sirius blinked at him, and then burst into laughter.

“Why was that your first thought about this?!” he said, scratching Remus’ scalp with his fingernails as he laughed into his neck.

“I don’t know,” Remus murmured, still laughing. “It’s just absurd. It’s all absurd.”

Sirius exhaled slowly, fighting the smile that he was pretty sure would never leave his face. “It is absurd,” he said, tugging at Remus’ hair lightly to get him to lift his head up. “But you… I mean, you don’t want to go back, do you?”

Remus smiled, and it wasn’t pity. He leaned forward, and it wasn’t fake; he was real. He was there.

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” he murmured against Sirius’ lips, and trailed his jawline lightly. Sirius’ chest bloomed.

They lay for a moment in silence, and then Sirius had such an absurd thought that it put having sex in a single bed to shame. He barked with laughter and Remus quirked an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, and Sirius bit his lip in a smile.

“I was just thinking,” he said, lightly. “Our divorce attorney is going to have an absolute fucking field day with this one.”

Remus let out a pffft and burst into cackling laughter, again, and Sirius held him tighter; swayed him a little. He rubbed the calf of his leg up Remus’, slightly, and they intertwined. They were a tangle of bodies.

“Oh my god,” Remus wheezed. “She is.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Sirius said. “What even happens when divorced people get back together?”

Remus shifted so his cheek was on Sirius’ shoulder blade and traced a finger up and down his collarbone. “Well, I suppose that won’t really matter until we get re-married.”

Sirius paused. Shifted, a little, to try and look at Remus, and he lifted his head.

“You’d want that?” he said, gently, and he couldn’t properly see in the dark but he could tell that Remus had flushed.

“I mean–” he stammered, shaking his head as if just becoming aware of what he said. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, that was so presumptuous–”

“No,” Sirius said, lightly. He fished for Remus’ hand under the duvet and laced their fingers together. “No, I’d like that, too.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, and then a small smile crept its way onto his face.

“Right,” he whispered, and Sirius grinned; absolutely unable to stop himself.

“Right,” he repeated. Remus laughed.

“Not right away, though,” he affirmed, and Sirius nodded. “But maybe… in the future–”

“When we’re settled,” Sirius finished for him, and Remus nodded. “When we’ve worked through… everything.”

“I wouldn’t wanna waste any more time,” Remus said softly, and he laid his head back onto his chest. “We already wasted too much.”

“I know,” Sirius said, moving his other hand up from his waist and twirling it into his hair. “Me too.”

Remus hummed, and Sirius felt like the lightest person on the planet. He felt like he could do anything in the fucking world. He felt--

Hungry.

“Did you eat?” Remus asked; laughed, really, as Sirius’ stomach grumbled. He put his hands over his face and groaned.

“No,” he whined. “Not since lunch.” He peeked an eye through two of his fingers. “Unless you count.”

Remus whacked him with the back of his hand. “You disgusting little man,” he said, but he was smiling.

Remus shuffled away, out of Sirius’ grasp, and he felt the loss; not that he went far. He just settled in between his legs, pushed himself up and sat back. Took the fucking duvet with him, too.

“I’m cold,” Sirius whined, covering his chest and-- yeah. Remus laughed.

“Get some clothes on and go get some food,” he said. “I’m hungry, too.”

“Why do I have to go?” Sirius grumbled. 

“I thought you bent to my wind?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I knew you’d use that against me.”

Remus laughed and it was the most magical thing Sirius had ever heard. He groaned in fake-annoyance and hauled himself out of the bed, realising just how disgusting he was. (The tissues in the bottom drawer only went so far).

“Christ, we need to shower,” he mumbled, sitting on the edge and fumbling around blind on the floor for some semblance of clothes. Remus hummed.

“After we’ve eaten,” he murmured, flopping back onto the bed and bouncing a little as he fell. He bundled himself up in the covers. “Ham sandwiches seem good enough for now.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement and found his jeans - he pulled his phone out of his pocket, eyes burning as it turned on and displayed the time as 00:18.

And a text.

He almost laughed.

"Oh, god, I feel bad," he said, and Remus quirked an eyebrow. He exhaled slowly and showed him his phone.

Remus tried to suppress his laugh and failed horrifically.

"You're an awful person," Sirius said, jokingly. He pushed him slightly, and Remus laughed and pushed him right back.

"You're an awful person. Delete it."

"I should explain–"

"So you're not bending to my wind. Okay, got it–"

"Shut up," Sirius laughed, launching forward to attack him - Remus yelped and pushed him away. Sirius pressed a kiss to his cheek, his neck, his sternum, and then hauled himself away.

"How about," he said. "We forget he exists for tonight, because tonight is perfect. And I text him tomorrow and explain nicely–"

Remus scoffed, here, and Sirius gave him a jokingly warning glare.

"Explain nicely, because he was a nice guy, that I am, in fact, still madly in love with my ex-husband and thus we probably would not go anywhere."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "And then you block him."

Sirius smiled. He leaned forward, and he kissed him.

"And then I block him," he whispered. He kissed him again. "Don't be a mardy bum. You know all I see is you."

Remus smiled, slowly, despite his obvious efforts not to, and Sirius laughed and kissed him once more; twice more; before pulling away in the split second that he could before he physically would not be able to anymore.

He got up, giving up on the floor (he was not wearing jeans) and aiming to head to the door to nab Remus’ dressing gown. 

He hadn’t stood up for half a second before Remus pinched his bum.

“You–” he said, turning around, and Remus laughed. His hand slipped back underneath the covers.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“I haven’t bloody missed that,” he grumbled to himself, taking the few strides and wrapping the dressing gown around him. Remus scoffed from the bed.

“Yes, you have,” he said, teasingly, and Sirius opened the door. Smiled a little.

“Yeah, I have,” he said. Admitting defeat. He bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the embarrassing joy on his face, but it failed. “Five minutes.”

“I’ll be here.”

Remus smiled, and Sirius slipped out, light as a fucking feather.

The house was quiet - all of the doors were shut, and he took that to mean that everyone was asleep - he hoped everyone was asleep. The stairs creaked as he crept down them and he flicked the hall light on, slipping into the kitchen without taking a second look into the living room.

He was halfway through buttering Remus’ sandwich when the door opened.

Lily stood at the door frame, book in hand, and her mouth fell open as he locked eyes with her.

“You had sex,” she said. Sirius’ jaw dropped.

“I-- you-”

“You had sex!” she hissed, now, harsher; her book face planted the table as she took three long strides across the room with so much momentum that Sirius actually stepped back, slightly, in fear. “Why would you have sex with him?!”

“Lily, it’s not–”

“Are you out of your mind?” she continued, and Sirius shook his head harshly, straightening up to tower over her. She was scowling at him.

“We’re trying again, Lily,” he blurted. She ceased all movement. He ran two hands through his hair, and smiled at her - it came easily. All he had to do was think of Remus. “As in, trying trying. A relationship. Me and him. Not just sex.”

Lily raised a hand to cover her mouth, and Sirius waited. 

“You… you mean it?” she said, eventually, dropping her hand. Sirius nodded. “You’re not having me on?”

“I’m not having you on, Lily, I promise,” he said, with a laugh of pure happiness. It seemed to kick her into motion.

The widest grin Sirius had ever seen fought its way onto her face, and in half a moment Sirius had a staggering armful of Lovely Lily Evans, her strawberry-scented hair tickling his nose.

“Oof–” Sirius groaned, wrapping his arms around her and laughing. “I wouldn’t hug me, Lil. I’m kind of disgusting right now.”

“Oh, I’ve lived in a family of five boys for seventeen years,” Lily said, muffled against his chest. “I’m used to disgusting. This is worth it. Oh my goodness.”

Sirius squeezed her with all of his might, and they both laughed quietly, swaying in the cold, dark kitchen, ham sandwiches half-made beside them.

“And everything is okay?” she said, pulling back, though her arms were still wrapped around him. “You’re - you’re working through it, right?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding frantically. “Yes, we’re… I mean, things aren’t going to be perfect right away, one night can’t fix everything, but we’re going to try. We’re going to make it work. We have to. He’s it, Lily.”

“Oh, I think I might cry,” Lily whimpered, collapsing back onto his chest, and Sirius laughed and held her close.

“Don’t cry,” he said, slightly teary himself. “Don’t cry, ‘cause then I’ll cry, and I need to deliver these sandwiches to the man in my bed, and if I’m crying then he’ll cry and it’ll all be a big mess--”

“Okay,” Lily said, laughing and sniffling slightly. “Okay, I’m not crying. No mess. Oh, gosh, I’m just so happy for you both. James is going to go fucking mental.”

“I know.”

“And Teddy…” Her eyes lit up.

“I don’t know how we’re going to tell him, to be honest.”

“He’s going to be so happy,” Lily murmured. Sirius nodded. “I’m so happy you sorted your shit out.”

“Me too.”

“And I was right, was I?” she said, somewhat smugly. Sirius grinned.

“Of course you were. You always are.” He paused, and narrowed his eyes. “Could’ve given me a bloody hint beforehand, though.”

“Oh, it was better this way,” Lily said. “You had to figure it out on your own. You two have never done anything anyone else has told you to do.”

Sirius nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Oh, wow,” Lily said. “I’m so happy for you. I am so happy.”

“I love you, Lil,” Sirius murmured, and she grinned. Squeezed him tighter.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, pulling back so suddenly that it startled Sirius. “I have something!”

He frowned, and she took a few steps back, told him to wait, and was out of the door in a flash.

He probably knew what she had before she even came back with it, to be honest. It was a snapshot of his life that had haunted him in the worst way for four years, and was going to haunt him in the best for the next forty.

Lily came back in soundlessly, photograph clutched carefully between her fingers.

“You brought it?” Sirius asked, frowning. She outstretched a hand and he took it from her.

“Of course I did,” she said. “I’m not too sure why, really. I felt strange having it. It didn’t belong to me.”

Sirius frowned. Looked at his own smile. Looked at Remus’. He traced his love’s face on the photo with fingers that still held his scent; fingers that still held his essence, and these people were them. It was him, and Remus. Remus and him. Then and now. Spain or England or Wales or Antartica, it wouldn’t matter. They would always be this. It filled him with a warmth that he could probably get drunk on; love, and love alone, rushing through his bloodstream like a drug.

“Okay,” Lily said, sweetly; he looked up and saw just how tired she was. It was a quarter to one. “Now that you have that, I’m going to go to bed, I think.”

“Yes, you should,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She smiled, lovely and free. “Goodnight, Lil.”

“Enjoy your sandwiches,” she said, giving him one last squeeze.

“I will,” Sirius said, detaching himself from her, and she grinned.

“And enjoy your Remus,” she said suggestively, walking backwards and grabbing her book from the table as she went. Sirius laughed.

“Oh, I will,” he said, and she laughed and exited the room with a sweet “goodnight!”.

Sirius laughed to himself and finished making his sandwiches.

“You get lost or something?” said Remus jokingly as Sirius re-entered the room. He had sat himself up and turned the lamplight on in his absence. He shuffled his legs up to make room for Sirius to sit at the end of the bed, and reached out to grab the plate.

“No,” Sirius said with a smile. “I just ran into one little nosy redhead on the way.”

“Oh,” Remus said in realisation. “Oh, god, what did you--”

“Well, she figured it out, of course, didn’t she?” Sirius said, as if it was obvious. “It’s Lily. One look and she knew. Gave me this.”

He reached into his dressing gown pocket and pulled the photo out, carefully. He watched as Remus took it; watched the recognition dawn on his face as he realised what it was. He ran his own thumb over them. It was a strange kind of kinship. A strange kind of magnetism.

“Why did she have it?” he said, and Sirius flushed.

“I gave it to her,” he said. “A few weeks ago. Asked her to - well, I asked her to destroy it, actually.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “But she didn’t.”

“She’d never,” Sirius said. “I think I knew that. She knew I loved you before I knew I loved you. She knew you did, too.”

“Makes sense,” Remus said, gruffly. He looked back down at the photo again. “I didn’t know I still loved you until the words were physically coming out of my mouth.”

Sirius looked at him; watched him study themselves in Spain in the low light, nothing but the moon and a streetlight shining through the ratty blinds of their room, and he was overcome with so much love that it knocked him sick. So much affection he couldn’t believe he’d managed to live without it for four years.

Remus smiled, putting the photograph carefully on the bedside table, and took a bite of his sandwich. He swallowed and said, tentatively; “Is she happy?”

Sirius smiled. “So happy.”

Remus matched his smile and looked down. It was an act of shyness. It made Sirius want to squeeze the life out of him. 

“And,” he continued, flipping his sandwich over on the plate. “Are you happy?”

Sirius stared at him until he looked back up; they locked eyes, and he smiled. It was a reflex. 

“So, unbelievably, unfathomably happy,” Sirius breathed. He reached out a hand to grip Remus’ thigh, through the covers. Rubbed it a little. Remus smiled. “So insanely happy that I think I might explode.”

“Well, don’t do that,” Remus cooed. “I just got you back.”

“Never,” Sirius said, without hesitation. “You’ll never lose me again, if I have anything to say about it.”

Remus grinned, and Sirius wanted to kiss him so badly that his lips hurt. 

He didn’t. They had the rest of their lives. They had forever.

“Okay,” Remus said, hastily; apparently feeling the same way. He gestured to his sandwich. “Finish that, and then we’ll go in the shower. And then we’ll go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, taking another bite. Not taking his eyes off of Remus. He would never take his eyes off of him again.

“And tomorrow…” Remus started, but trailed off. Sirius’ face grew into a smile, and he swallowed.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “we start the rest of our lives.”

He pulled Remus’ hand towards him and kissed his knuckles. Flipped it over, and kissed his palm.

“The rest of our lives,” Remus repeated, and Sirius smiled.

“The rest of our life.”

And perhaps the sandwiches were abandoned halfway eaten for ten minutes. Perhaps Sirius couldn’t resist himself. 

Perhaps forever started now, right now, right at that very second.

Could you blame him?

“I love you,” Remus said, breathlessly as Sirius pulled back. “Oh, god, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Sirius said, and he gripped the universe in his hands.

He kissed it.

***

Teddy woke with a groan.

He had slept funny. He wasn’t sure how, exactly, he had done it, but his neck was hurting on the left side. He stretched and groaned, gripping it between his fingers and moving it from side to side. He groaned again, rather melodramatically, this time.

“What?!”

Ah, fuck, Harry. He had forgotten he was there.

“Sorry,” he said with a laugh to the boy in the bunk bed below him. “Slept weird, and my neck hurts.”

Harry kicked the foundations of his up, underneath Teddy’s back and he jumped.

“Oi!”

Harry laughed, and the bed creaked; Teddy peered over the edge as he got up, stumbled across the room for his glasses, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“I’m hungry,” he grumbled, pulling his phone off charge and passing Teddy’s to him without him even having to ask. The clock read 9:07am.

“Give me five minutes,” Teddy said, putting his hands over his eyes. “Make me a toastie, will you?”

“No. Fuck you.”

(That, in Harry James Potter speak, meant yes.)

And, yep, five (...okay, ten) minutes later there was, in fact, a lovely waft of ham and cheese up his nose as Teddy tumbled down the stairs, still half-asleep, barefoot with a hoodie pulled over him for warmth. He padded into the kitchen (hissing at the cold on the soles of his feet) and bounded up to Harry, who was just taking the toastie out of the machine. He threw it onto a plate for Teddy, alongside his own, and he grinned and thanked him smugly with a mouth full of food, to which Harry called him disgusting.

“Is anyone else awake?” Teddy said, only slightly muffled, rummaging into the fridge for some fresh orange juice. He slid the carton across to Harry with an unspoken plea, and he poured them both two glasses. Teddy sat idly in a kitchen chair, munching on his food.

“I think so,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose and handing Teddy the drink. He took a few gulps. “I haven’t been in there, but I can hear voices.”

“Come on, then,” Teddy said, nodding, and they plundered into the living room, Harry first, Teddy last. He kicked the door shut with his foot.

Harry’s parents were sitting on the sofa to his left. The TV was on - just the news, background white noise - and Lily had a steaming mug between her hands and a blanket on her lap. James was next to her, arm around the back of the sofa. He was squinting at his phone, but when the two of them arrived both his Aunt and Uncle perked up. James put his phone down. Lily raised her eyebrows and was obviously trying not to smile.

“Morning,” James said cheerily and Harry placed his plate and glass on the coffee table in front of them and pushed his dad, slightly, murmuring for him to budge up. “You both sleep alright?” James continued, strained as he shuffled. Teddy shrugged.

“Kind of,” he said, stretching his neck. Lily bit her lip in a smile. “I slept weird on my neck, and I can’t turn it to the right properly.”

“Oh,” came a coo that was unmistakably his Dad from behind him. “Want me to massage it, kid?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” Teddy said, swivelling his body slightly (since, as prior established, he was unable to move his neck) to smile at his father. His Dad was sat comfortably on the sofa, facing outwards, while his Da was sitting next to him, sideways; his knees curved comfortably over his lap, and Sirius had one hand on one of Remus’ socked feet. The other was holding his hand, laced between his fingers. Teddy smiled at him. “I’ll just be gentle with it, today, I guess.” 

He swivelled the other way to put his plate and glass besides Harry’s on the table, and the first thing he noticed was the utter silence. The second thing he noticed was Harry’s dropped jaw.

It took a moment for life to catch up with him.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, turning his neck to the right in such a knee-jerk, double-take reaction that he didn’t even register his soreness until it had gone the full way - and it hurt like a fucking bitch. He turned it back and his right hand came up to clap against it as he yelped and swore again, in pain, but, despite how sore his neck was, he couldn’t seem to focus on it right at that moment.

He turned (swivelled his whole body - hand still massaging his neck) to his parents. His jaw was practically on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked softly; they both looked genuinely concerned. “A hot water bottle might help, I have one under my bed.”

“Or a bath,” Sirius interjected, and he nodded. They smiled at each other and Sirius brought their linked hands up to kiss his knuckles.

Teddy gaped.

“What the fuck?” he repeated, staring.

“Language, Teddy.”

“Don’t fucking swear.”

Remus whirled on him. “Do you say that every time he swears?!”

Sirius’ eyebrows raised so far it looked like they might fly away. “Er-- no?”

“You do! No wonder he swears like–”

“A sailor?” Sirius interjected helpfully, and Remus laughed out loud.

“No, like you!”

“Is this a joke?” Teddy asked, interrupting, and both of their heads turned to him; both expressions softened. “Are you fucking with me? What is this?”

He turned to Harry, who shook his head in an “I had no idea either” kinda gesture. Lily was smiling softly at him, her eyes slightly teary, and James had the biggest grin he had ever seen on his face.

He turned back to his parents.

“We’re not fucking with you, Ted,” Remus said, smiling. “Promise.”

“You’re not--” Teddy spluttered. “So you’re-- you’re, what--”

“‘Back together’ might cover it,” James pointed out. 

Teddy had, quite possibly, never been more shocked in his entire life. He wondered if his face conveyed that. 

(It absolutely did.)

“When?” he asked. “I- How? What? I mean... what--?”

“Yesterday,” Sirius said, slowly. “We’re… we’re still working things out, Ted, okay?”

“We’re still going to live separately for the time being,” Remus said. “But, obviously, we’ll see a lot more of each other.”

“And, we’re going to take it slow,” Sirius finished. “No re-marriages yet. Just… we’re just going to try again.”

“Try?” Teddy repeated, feeling like he might actually cry. Jesus Christ, he hoped this one didn’t show on his face. 

(False hope. It absolutely did.)

“And succeed,” Remus said, firmly. “It’s not all fixed yet, obviously, but we… we intend to work through everything. Make it work. Neither of us want a repeat of the past four years.”

Teddy shook his head, tears threatening his eyes. “I don’t want a repeat of the past four years either.”

“I know, my baby,” Remus said sweetly, and Teddy inhaled shakily. Sirius wiped his eyes with Remus’ hand. They both laughed.

Teddy took a deep breath in, and then whirled onto the other sofa.

“You absolute bastard,” he said, pointing at Harry - his jaw dropped.

“What did I do?!”

“How did you know?”

“Know what, exactly?” Remus asked from behind him. Harry laughed.

“I told you, Tedmeister, love is a finicky thing--”

“You kissed Ginny Weasley twice, get over yourself!” came bursting out of Teddy, and the room erupted into chaos.

“You kissed Ginny Weasley?!” James exclaimed, turning to his son. Lily attempted to stifle her laughter with her hand and failed miserably. “Get in!”

“James, don’t embarrass him!”

“What did he know, exactly?” Remus called again, and Teddy turned, taking a step or two back so he could see both parties without doing any more irreparable neck damage. Sirius nudged him.

“That we were still in love, dear,” he supplied gently, and Remus frowned.

“And… you knew he knew?” he said. He shook his head. “Wait, I am so confused.”

“I figured it out,” Sirius said casually. “They’re meddling gits.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“Yes, because I was hopelessly in love with you and, quite honestly, wanted whatever the hell kind of scheme they had going on to work–”

“He parent-trapped you!” Teddy cried, pointing, again, at Harry, who still had his head in his hands (Teddy might find it in him to feel bad about the Ginny Weasley thing later, but as of right now, his brain was scrambled.) 

“Parent Trapped?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Like Lindsay Lohan?” Remus finished, even more incredulously, and Teddy had definitely expected the other dad to get the movie reference but he wasn’t really complaining.

“I didn’t believe it until right now,” Teddy said. “Not properly. I thought it was just a bit of fun-- you’re really together?!” he seethed, voice laced with shock and absolute exasperation, and both of his parents laughed - Remus had the courtesy to try and hide his. 

“Yes, Teddy.”

“Together together?”

“As together as two people can possibly be,” Sirius drawled, and-- nope. No. Absolutely not.

“Nope,” he groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. “Nope, nope, nope, I didn’t hear that. I did not hear that.”

“Sirius,” Remus hissed, and Teddy wasn’t looking but he heard a hard thwack and hoped that he got him good. “That is our child!” 

“And? You’ve given him the talk, have you not?”

“Oh my god,” Lily groaned, and Teddy felt a huge amount of solidarity with his aunt in that moment.

“You are insufferable, Sirius.”

“Oh, don’t be a Negative Nellie, I’m just playing around.”

“God, not even a day and you’re already being a–”

“You’re really back together?” Teddy said, dropping his hands; and his voice must have been softer than before, because both of his parents dropped their words and turned to look at him, and both of their faces softened. Teddy couldn’t stop looking at their interlocked hands. Sirius smiled.

“Yeah, kid,” he said. “We really, really are.”

“No more pranks?”

Remus shook his head. “No more pranks.”

“No more anger?”

“No more anger,” Sirius repeated. 

Teddy breathed in shakily.

“No more milk thievery?”

Remus blinked at him, and then let his face crumple into an embarrassed smile; let his head fall into the crook of Sirius’ neck. They both began to laugh, and Teddy thought, momentarily, that his heart was going to jump out of his throat and go for a jog.

“Well, I don’t know, Remus; are you going to keep up your undercover life of crime and debauchery?” Sirius teased, and Remus grinned harder, forehead pressed onto his shoulder, eyes closed.

“God, please don’t remind me of that,” he whined - and Teddy realised he was cringing. Sirius laughed heartily and unlinked their hands so he could wrap a firm hand around his waist, pulling him into his chest, closer. Teddy simply stared.

He didn’t realise that a stray tear had fallen until Sirius looked back up at him, and his face fell.

“Oh, don’t cry, you silly goose,” he said, and Remus lifted his head as Sirius reached out his free arm. “Come here. Come on, come here, Ted.”

His legs moved for him, and his parents moved to make space for him as he made it to the sofa. He clambered on, somewhat still in shock, and they both engulfed him in a big hug. Both heads on each of his shoulders. Remus stroked his hair, and Sirius squeezed his back.

“We love you so much,” Remus whispered. “You know that?”

Teddy nodded.

“More than anything,” Sirius whispered. “We’re so sorry for the past four years. We’re so sorry. We were so silly, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“I don’t care,” Teddy said; sniffled, perhaps. He pulled back and looked at them both. “I don’t care, I honestly don’t care. It’s okay. It’s fine. You’re here, now. I love you, too.”

Remus whined, obviously on the verge of tears, and pulled him in again, and they were a family. They were a family again. They were going to be a family, forever.

“I promise you, Ted,” Remus whispered. “We’re not gonna fuck this up again, okay?”

Teddy smiled. He pulled back, again and both of his parents pulled back alongside him. Sirius had a hand on his shoulder, Remus a hand on his hair.

“Language,” he said, jokingly, and they all laughed, sweetly. 

Sirius pulled an arm around his son and his love, and they fit together as three, and it was five years ago. It was ten. It was the glee of a child, the acknowledgement that the worst was finally, finally over, and they were going to heal. Everything was coming together.

Harry joined the pile-on first. The sofa was definitely not big enough for all of them, and he may have crushed Sirius a little bit, but they made room for him, and then it was James. Lily was the last - James was beckoning for her to come over, while she stood watching Sirius cry out, being crushed by about everybody, but she gave in, eventually, for the boys that she had spent her life wrangling. The pain they had all been through, and the rainbow that had come out on the other side. 

The six of them fit together in some strange semblance of a group hug, and it was wonderful. It was family; and Teddy didn’t think he’d been this happy, ever, really. 

And he had a feeling he hadn’t thought in a long time; true, unabating optimism. He had the feeling that this was it - and that life would simply grow happier, from now on. 

It was wonderful.