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Chapter Text

The forest was silent, save for the restless rustle of leaves stirred by the night wind. Sirius Black leaned against the gnarled trunk of an oak tree, the sharp tang of blood and smoke still clinging to his senses from the night’s skirmish. The moon hung high and unyielding, casting pale light over his leather jacket and the deep gash on his cheek. A cigarette dangled from his lips, its ember glowing faintly, though his hand tightened around his wand. He was waiting, as he always was after a mission, his heart caught in a rhythm he didn’t want to admit was anxious.

A distant crack- a branch? A footstep? His instincts flared to life, and he snapped his wand up, scanning the darkness. Another sound- a shuffle of boots on damp earth- made his pulse quicken.

“Merlin’s beard, Moony,” Sirius muttered when a familiar silhouette emerged from the clearing. He lowered his wand as Remus approached.

The moonlight painted Remus’s face, the scars along his jaw thrown into sharp relief. His clothes were worn and patched, his shoulders weighed down with exhaustion that never seemed to leave him. The war had hollowed all of them, but it had cut especially deep into Remus, etching lines of exhaustion into his features that no amount of rest could erase.

“You’re late,” Sirius said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he dropped the cigarette and crushed it with his boot.

Remus stopped a few paces away, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. “You shouldn’t smoke. It’ll kill you.” He paused, glancing around, his wariness sharper than usual. “I shouldn’t have come. It’s too dangerous.”

Sirius closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, his grin mischievous but tinged with that reckless vulnerability that Remus could never ignore. He grabbed Remus’s hand, holding it tightly. “Danger? Please. Kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor.”

Remus shook his head, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable,” he murmured, though he allowed Sirius to pull him closer.

Their kiss was fierce, a clash of desperation and tenderness. Sirius’s lips tasted of smoke and salt, his hands gripping Remus like he was afraid to let go. For just a moment, the war faded- the danger, the death, all of it. There was only the forest, the cool air, and the quiet press of their hearts.

When they broke apart, Sirius kept his hands on Remus’s shoulders, studying him like he was searching for something unspoken. “I thought you might not come this time.”

Remus dropped his gaze, guilt flickering across his face. “I told you before, Sirius. I’ll come back as long as I can walk. Maybe even if I can’t.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Sirius said sharply, his voice low.

The silence between them deepened, the distant call of an owl and the rustling of the forest the only sounds they could hear. Sirius dropped his hands but didn’t step back.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” Remus asked quietly.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re afraid I won’t be here tomorrow.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw. “Because I’m not sure, Moony. None of us are. That’s the bloody point of this war, isn’t it? One wrong step, one curse, and-” He broke off, shaking his head.

Remus didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out, his hand calloused but gentle as it brushed against Sirius’s cheek. “You don’t have to carry everything, you know,” he said softly.

Sirius laughed, though it sounded more like a sigh. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“I just don’t want to make things harder for you. For anyone. You know what they’d say if they knew about us.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened. “To hell with what they’d say. James would-”

“James would understand,” Remus interrupted, “but it wouldn’t stop people from talking. About us. About me. You’d get dragged down with me, Sirius. And you deserve better.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sirius growled, grabbing Remus’s wrist. His voice was sharp, trembling with anger and hurt. “Don’t you ever say that.”

Remus’s breath hitched, and he tried to pull away, but Sirius wouldn’t let him. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against Remus’s. “I’m a sailor, Moony. Love me like it’s my last shore leave. That’s all I’m asking.”

For a moment, Remus closed his eyes. He wanted to believe it was that simple- that they could have this, even as the world burned around them.

He kissed Sirius again, tentative at first, then urgent, pouring every unsaid word, every hidden fear into that single moment. Sirius responded in kind, holding onto him as though the act itself might anchor them both.

When they finally parted, Sirius smiled faintly. “I don’t know how to stop loving you, you know.”

Remus’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I want you to.”

Later that night, when Sirius was asleep next to Remus in the safe house, Remus took out a battered notebook and balanced it on his knees. He flipped to an empty page, the pen trembling slightly in his hand. Writing was the only way he could be honest with himself- about the war, about Sirius, about everything he was too afraid to say aloud.

The words came haltingly at first, his heart resisting. But once he started, they poured out like a confession, fragile yet overwhelming.

I love you in the way the moon loves the night- silent and unseen, yet constant. I am no sailor, but if I were, you would be the ocean I’d cross a thousand times. Even in war, you make me feel as if I’ve found some kind of home.

He stared at the words for a long time before closing the notebook and tucking it away. These thoughts were for him alone, too fragile to share.

Sirius stirred in his sleep, murmuring Remus’s name. Remus smiled faintly, though his heart was heavy. Tomorrow, the war would call them back. But tonight, they had this.

A week later, the door to Remus’s small flat in Muggle London burst open with a crash, slamming against the wall with such force that Remus nearly dropped the teacup he had been holding. Before he could even process the commotion, Sirius strode in, his robes singed at the edges, his hair wild and tangled as though he’d flown straight through a storm. He looked like chaos incarnate, but his eyes burned with purpose.

“Sirius?” Remus said, startled.

Before he could say anything more, Sirius was on him, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him fiercely. It wasn’t the kind of kiss they shared when saying goodbye or even the desperate kisses they stole after a mission. This kiss was fire and fury, full of longing, frustration, and something that felt dangerously close to breaking.

When Sirius finally pulled back, his breath came in short gasps, his grey eyes stormy and intense. "I can’t do this anymore," he said, his voice shaking.

Remus blinked, caught between concern and confusion. “Can't do what?”

"The waiting," Sirius growled, raking a hand through his hair. "The hiding. Every time I see you, I feel alive again, Moony. And then the moment I leave, it’s like someone rips the ground out from under me. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t exist, that we don’t exist.”

Remus’s heart twisted painfully. He stepped back, needing the space to think, to breathe. Sirius was like a firestorm, and it was all too easy to get swept up in his heat, to let the rest of the world fall away. But Remus couldn’t afford that luxury.

"Sirius," he began carefully, but Sirius was already pacing, his movements erratic.

"I want to tell them, Moony," Sirius said, spinning back around to face him. "James, the Order- everyone. I’m done hiding.”

The words landed like a blow, and Remus froze, his breath catching in his chest. "You don’t know what you’re asking," he said finally, his voice tight.

Sirius’s brow furrowed, frustration flashing across his face. "What am I asking that’s so bloody unreasonable? That we stop pretending? That we stop acting like this- like we- don’t matter?”

"It’s not just us," Remus said, his voice rising, though he hated the way it shook. "It’s not just about you or me. If they find out about us- about me-" He faltered, running a hand through his hair. "You don’t know what that means.”

Sirius stepped closer, his expression softening as he searched Remus’s face. "I don’t care," he said quietly but with the same intensity as before. "You’re brilliant, Remus. And if they can’t see that, then to hell with them.”

Remus laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You don’t care because you’re not the one who has to live with it," he snapped. His voice wasn’t angry, not really- it was hollow, worn down by years of carrying this weight. "You don’t see the way people look at me. You don’t hear the whispers, the accusations, the fear.” Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Remus held up a hand, stopping him. "You’ve never had to," he continued. "You’ve never been the one people cross the street to avoid. You’ve never walked into a room and felt the silence drop like a stone because they know what you are.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, but when he spoke, his voice was steady, quiet. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to be hated? To be feared?" He stepped closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "My family made me the enemy the moment I stopped believing their Pureblood rubbish. They called me a traitor, a blood traitor, a disgrace. They threw me out, Remus. Do you think I don’t know what it’s like to walk into a room and see nothing but disgust on people’s faces?” Remus flinched at the rawness in Sirius’s voice, but before he could respond, Sirius continued. "The difference is, I don’t care," he said fiercely. "Not about them. Not about what they think. And I sure as hell don’t care what anyone thinks about us. Let them look. Let them whisper. Let them choke on it for all I care, because they’ll never be half the person you are.”

The words hit Remus hard, but instead of comforting him, they only added to the weight pressing down on his chest. "It’s not that simple," he said quietly, looking away.

"It is," Sirius insisted, his voice softening. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to take Remus’s. His grip was warm, grounding. "I could never be ashamed of you, Moony. Not in a million years.”

Remus’s breath hitched at the tenderness in Sirius’s voice. He wanted to believe him. Merlin, he wanted to believe him. But the years of fear, of rejection, of learning to hold people at arm’s length were hard to undo. He looked away, unable to meet Sirius’s eyes.

"I don’t think I’m strong enough for this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius’s hand tightened around his, and when he spoke, his voice trembled, raw with emotion. "You’re the strongest person I know," he said. "You don’t have to believe it, but I do. And if you can’t believe it for yourself, then believe it for me. Because I need you, Moony. I need you more than anything else in this bloody world.”

The words broke something in Remus, the cracks in his armor widening just enough to let the light in. He turned back to Sirius, his gaze hesitant but searching.

"You’re impossible," he said softly, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles.

"I know," Sirius said, grinning despite the tears glistening in his eyes. He stepped closer, resting his forehead against Remus’s. "But I’m your impossible.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the world around them falling silent. The weight of their fears, their insecurities, their love- it all hung in the air between them, fragile but unbroken.

"I’m a sailor, Moony," Sirius whispered, his breath warm against Remus’s lips. "Love me like it’s my last shore leave.”

Remus closed his eyes, the words settling deep into his chest, and for once, he let himself believe it could be enough. Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between them in a kiss that felt like a promise, like an anchor in the storm.

Sirius’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Remus let the walls around his heart crumble. Whatever came next- whatever battles they still had to face- they would face them together.

Chapter Text

The news came on a cold and wet November morning, the uncomfortable silence broken by frantic tapping on the window. Remus had been up all night, pacing the creaky floorboards of his dilapidated cottage, unable to shake the dread that had clung to him since Halloween. When he read the delivered letter- a hurried scrawl from Dumbledore explaining James and Lily's deaths and how Voldemort was defeated for the time being- his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.

For a moment, the world ceased to exist. James and Lily- gone. Harry, barely a year old, orphaned. And Sirius…

Sirius.

His namewas there too, twisted into something unrecognizable. Sirius betrayed them. The words stared back at Remus from the parchment, stark and unyielding. His mind reeled, trying to make any sense of it.

It wasn't possible. Sirius, his Sirius, the man who held him after a full moon, the man who had whispered promises against his skin, who had been the one steady constant in a world always teetering on the edge of ruin- Sirius couldn't have done this. He wouldn't have.

But the doubts crept in, slow and insidious. The arguments, the secrets, the way Sirius seemed so restless in those final weeks. What if?

The days blurred into one another after that. Remus retreated into himself, shutting out the world. The Order was quickly disbanded, the war over but leaving behind a long trail of shattered lives. Now, alone in his cottage, Remus sat by the fire, surrounded by nothing but the ghosts of his memories.

It was one of those nights, as the wind howled outside and the shadows outside stretched long across the room, that he finally found it. Sirius's leather jacket. It had been shoved carelessly behind a sofa, hidden beneath cushions and various other tidbits that made their way through the cracks. The sight of it but him like a curse, stealing the breath from his lungs. He sank to his knees, pulling out the jacket with trembling hands. It still smelled faintly of Sirius- cigarettes, motor oil, and something uniquely him, something that made Remus's chest ache with longing. He clutched the jacket to his chest, his fingers curling into the worn leather.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Why did you do this? Was I never enough?” The words hung in the air unanswered. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, a cruel reminder of the warmth that was ripped away from him so soon.

He wanted to hate Sirius. He wanted to curse his name, go burn the jacket and everything else that belonged to the man to erase every trace of him. But he couldn't. Even now, with everything pointing to Sirius's guilt, a part of him still believed in the man he once loved.

And that was the cruellest part of all.

Azkaban was colder than Sirius had imagined, though he wasn't sure why it surprised him. The air was damp and heavy, and the walls seemed to press in on him as though the stones were alive and intent on suffocating him.

But it was the Dementors that made it unbearable. They glided silently past his cell periodically, their presence creating a constant weight on his chest, pulling his worst memories to the surface.

At first, he tried to fight it, to hold onto the anger and defiance that had always been his armour during his teenage years. But the longer he stayed, the harder it became. He could feel pieces of himself slipping away and unable to get back, like sand gliding through his fingers. And yet, there was one thing that remained.

Remus.

In his darkest moments, when the Dementors came too close and the despair threatened to consume him, he clung onto Remus like a lifeline. Sirius didn't believe in God, but when he could feel the increasingly familiar coldness of the Dementors, he thought of Remus like his saviour. He closed his eyes and saw him, standing in the moonlight with that small, hesitant smile that Sirius loved so much. He imagined Remus's hands, gentle but firm, tracing the lines of Sirius's face. He remembered the way Remus's face would soften when they were alone, and how he would whisper Sirius's name like it was a secret meant only for them.

But the memories were never enough to hold the darkness. Not completely. The Dementors always found a way to pry into his mind, their icy tendrils wrapping around the cracks in his soul. He could feel them feeding on his despair, on his guilt.

It's my fault, he thought, over and over. James, Lily, Harry. Remus. I've failed them all.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he transformed. As Padfoot, the world was much simpler. The Dementors’ influence dulled, their effects weaker against the mind of an animal. And in those moments, Sirius let himself dream.

He dreamt of running. Not away, but toward. He dreamt of Remus's voice calling him home, of Remus's arms wrapping around him, holding him together when he felt like falling apart.

It was that dream that kept him alive and sane.

Remus begun to piece himself together, though the cracks were still visible. He spent his days taking odd jobs in the Muggle world, repairing fences and mending roofs for people who didn't ask too many questions. It was mindless work, but it kept his hands busy and thoughts at bay.

Nights were always the hardest, when there was nothing to do and his thoughts could finally creep out.

One evening, as the rain lashed against the windows and the wind howled like a wounded animal, Remus sat by the fire with a bottle of cheap Firewhiskey. The leather jacket was draped over the back of an armchair, a silent reminder of everything he had lost. He reached for his notebook, the same one where he had once written poetry for Sirius. He hadn't touched it in months, not since the betrayal. But tonight, the words came unbidden, spilling out onto the page in a torrent of grief and longing.

I saw you in the brightest way. You were like a lighthouse, guiding me to safety, but now I am adrift, lost in a sea of doubt. I loved you like I have never loved anyone else, and yet, it wasn't enough. I don't know if I will ever forgive you, but I don't know how to stop loving you.

He closed the notebook and set it aside. The whiskey burned in his throat, but it was a small comfort compared to the ache in his chest.

In the cold and isolation of Azkaban, Sirius lay curled in a corner of his cell, his mind constantly drifting between dreams and nightmares. The sound of the waves crashing against the prison walls were faint, but it reminded him of one of Remus's sayings. “I think we're all a little like the sea. Beautiful, but dangerous. Always shifting, always pulling things away.”

Sirius smiled bitterly at the memory. At the time, he and James quickly dismissed it, calling Remus old and teased him for his poetic streak. But now, it felt truer than ever.

He wondered if Remus was thinking of him, or if he had moved on. The thought of Remus hating him was almost unbearable, but it was better than the idea that Remus might forget him entirely. Sirius closed his eyes, letting the memory of Remus's voice carry him to sleep.

Chapter Text

The dog was little more than skin and bones, but its black fur still glistened under the pale moonlight as it darted through the forest. Sirius Black, in his Animagus form, moved with an urgency he hadn't felt in twelve years. The cold night air whipped against him painfully, but it didn't matter. He was free.

He didn't allow himself to feel the weight of that freedom just yet. Not while the Dementors still lingered in the back of his mind, their cold class brushing against his memories. Not while Peter Pettigrew still drew breath. And certainly not while the one person who could anchor him in this fractured world didn't even know the truth.

Sirius paused briefly beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient tree. His ribs ached with every breath, and his muscles trembled with exhaustion, but his resolve was unyielding. He had to find Remus. For years, Remus had been the light Sirius clung onto in the darkness of Azkaban. Now, with his body practically broken but spirit burning, Sirius would fight tooth and nail to earn back the trust he had lost.

It was the Shrieking Shack that their paths finally crossed again. Remus's breath hitched the moment he saw Sirius, still half-wild and gaunt, his long hair matted and eyes hollow. For years, he had imagined this moment- seeing Sirius again, the man who had once held his heart in his hands. He imagined all the things he would say, every possible scenario and outcome. But now, standing before him, Remus couldn't speak.

Sirius's grey eyes locked on him, and something flickered- something raw and desperate. “Remus,” he gasped, his voice cracked from disuse.

“Don't,” Remus said sharply, his wand trembling in his hand. “Don't say my name like you're the man I knew. Like you didn't… like you didn't betray them.”

The words hit Sirius like a physical blow, and he stumbled back a step. “I didn't,” he said hoarsely, his voice rising. “I didn't betray them, Remus. It was Peter. Peter Pettigrew!”

“Liar.” Remus's voice was cold, but his eyes betrayed the storm brewing inside him. For years, he had lived with the weight of Sirius's betrayal, carrying it like a splinter buried deep in his chest. To hear Sirius deny it now felt like another wound on top of the old ones.

“You think I would do that?” Sirius shouted, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think I would betray James? Lily? You? After everything-”

“You left me!” Remus’s voice cracked, the years of anger and grief spilling over. "You left me alone, Sirius! After everything we- we had- " He stopped himself, shaking his head violently. "I trusted you. I loved you, and you-”

“I didn't leave you!” Sirius's voice broke, and for a moment, the fire drained out of him, leaving behind only exhaustion. “Remus, I didn't leave you. They took me. They locked me away, and they let you believe it was me.

The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, Remus faltered. He looked at Sirius- truly looked at him. The man before him was a shadow of the Sirius he had lived, but there was something in his eyes, something desperate and vulnerable that made Remus hesitate.

“Peter,” Sirius said again, his voice soft but hesitant. “He was the Secret Keeper, not me. It was a last-minute change to throw Voldemort off. James thought- I thought- it was the safest option. But Peter betrayed us. He framed me, and now he's here, at Hogwarts, hiding as that boy's pet rat.”

Remus staggered back, his mind reeling. It couldn't be true. And yet… the cracks in his certainty began to widen.

The hours that followed were a blur. The confrontation with Peter Pettigrew, Harry and his friend's disbelief and the chaotic rush of emotions all swirled together in a storm Remus could barely process. 

It wasn't until much later, after Peter had escaped and Sirius's innocence had been laid bare, that Remus found himself alone with Sirius once more. They sat in the stillness of the Shrieking Shack,the air between them heavy with unsaid words.

“I don't know how to fix this,” Sirius admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don't know if it even can be fixed.”

Remus looked at him, his expression unreadable. “You can't just expect things to go back to how they were.”

“I know,” Sirius said quickly. “I know that, Remus. But…” He ran a hand through his tangled hair, struggling to find the words. “Thinking of you- it was the only thing that kept me sane in Azkaban. Every time the Dementors got too close, I thought about you. About us.”

Remus's throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “You don't get to say that, not after everything.”

“I'm not asking for forgiveness,” Sirius said, his voice breaking. “I'm asking for a chance.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, without a word, Remus stood and left the room.

It had been days since the event in the Shrieking Shack, but Remus still felt like he was standing on unsteady ground. The revelation of Sirius's innocence had upended everything he thought he knew. The anger and grief that had weighed on him for the past twelve years were not gone, but they had shifted, leaving behind an ache that was equal parts regret and hope.

In the quiet of his cottage, long after the moon had risen, Remus sat by the fire with his battered notebook in his lap. He hadn't written in it since Sirius's supposed betrayal all those years ago. Back then, the notebook had been an outlet for pain he couldn't share with anyone else. Now, for the first time in over a decade, it felt like it might serve another purpose.

He flipped through the dog-eared pages, skimming the words he had scrawled during those bleak early days. The bitterness in his handwriting was unmistakable, each stroke of the pen a reflection of the anger and heartbreak that had consumed him. The poetry he had once poured into the notebook had turned jagged, the lines raw and fragmented. But tonight, the pen felt different in his hand. The firelight danced across the page before him, and slowly, hauntingly, the words began to flow.

For years, I thought of you as both a ghost and a wound. You haunted me, Sirius, and I let the pain define who I was. But now, I see you are something else entirely. Not a ghost, not a wound- something alive, flawed, and burning with the same fire I once fell in love with.

I don't know what comes next for us. There is too much between us, too much broken to simply go back to what we once were. But there is a chance now, a small fragile chance, to build something new. And for the first time in years, I want to try.

Remus stared at the words, his chest tight. They weren't perfect, but they were honest.

The kitchen at Grimmauld Place was dim, lit only by the flickering flames in the grate and a single enchanted lamp hanging over the cluttered table. Remus sat hunched over a cup of tea gone cold, staring into the swirling liquid as though it might offer answers to questions he hadn't even dared to ask. Sirius paced the length of the room like a caged animal, his hair falling into his eyes as he muttered curses under his breath. The tension was unbearable, the silence stretching taut like a bowstring. It wasn't until Sirius slammed his hand against the edge of the table that Remus finally looked up.

“Say something,” Sirius snapped, his voice hoarse. “Anything, Remus. Just- say something instead of sitting there like a bloody statue.”

Remus's eyes flicked up to meet Sirius's, and the weariness in his gaze only seemed to make Sirius angrier. “What do you want me to say, Sirius? That I forgive you? That twelve years of believing you betrayed us- betrayed me- can just vanish because the truth finally came out?”

Sirius flinched, but his jaw tightened. “It's not as simple as that, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Remus's voice was low but sharp, like a knife pressing against Sirius's skin. “Because from where I'm standing, it's very simple. You left me, Sirius. You left me to pick up the pieces of my life while you rotted in Azkaban, and now you expect me to just forget the years of silence? Of believing the man I loved had destroyed everything we fought for?”

“I didn't leave you!” Sirius barked, stepping closer to the table. His hands were trembling, and his voice cracked with the force of his words. “Do you think I wanted any of this? Do you think I wanted to spend twelve years locked in that hellhole, listening to the Dementors pick apart my soul? I didn't choose this, Remus!”

“No, but you chose to trust Peter,” Remus shot back, rising to his feet. His teacup rattled against the table as his voice grew louder. “You chose to put your faith in him instead of me. You didn't even tell me about the switch, Sirius. You didn't even give me a chance to prove I was worthy of your trust.”

Sirius froze, his face falling as the accusation hit him. The silence that followed was weary, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire.

“You're right,” Sirius said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “I didn't trust you. And that was my mistake- one I regretted every day since. But if you think I didn't trust you because of your lycanthropy, or because I didn't love you enough, you're wrong.” He shook his head, his eyes glassy with emotion. “I was scared, Remus. Scared of what the war was doing to all of us. Scared that Voldemort would find out about us and use it against you. And yes, I made the wrong choice, but I thought I was protecting you.”

Remus's heart twisted painfully at Sirius's words, but the anger that had built up over twelve long years refused to let go so easily. “You thought you were protecting me by shutting me out?” he said bitterly. “You don't get to make that decision, Sirius. You don't get to decide what I can or can't handle.”

Sirius dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again, his movements jerky and frantic. “You're right,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You're bloody right. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve anything. But, Merlin, Remus, I can't-” He stopped abruptly. “I can't lose you again. Not after everything.”

“You already lost me,” Remus said quietly, his voice trembling despite the steel in his words. “You lost me the day James and Lily died and I was left to believe you were the one who betrayed them.”

Sirius spun around, his eyes blazing with desperation. “And I've spent every second since trying to make it right! I escaped Azkaban for Harry, yes, but also for you. For us, Remus! Don't you see? You're all I have left. You're all I ever had.”

The rawness in Sirius's voice stopped Remus in his tracks. He felt his resolve begin to crack, the walls he had so carefully built around his heart trembling under the weight of Sirius's words. “You don't understand what it was like,” Remus said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “You don't know what it was like to be left alone in a world that wanted nothing to do with me. To lose James, Lily, and you all in one night and to spend the next twelve years hating the person I loved most.” He swallowed hard, the words burning in his throat. “I built a life around that hate, Sirius. I don't know how to undo it.”

Sirius stepped closer, his movements slow, hesitant, as though afraid Remus might bolt. “I don't want you to undo it,” he said slowly. “I don't expect you to forgive me, and I don't expect things to go back to the way they are. But I need you to know that I never stopped loving you, Remus. Even in Azkaban, even when I thought I would never see you again- you were the only thing that kept me alive.”

Remus closed his eyes, his breath hitching as Sirius's words washed over him. He wanted to believe them. Wanted to believe that after everything, there was still something between them worth salvaging. But the pain of the past wasn't so easily forgotten. “I don't know if that's enough,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Sirius nodded, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and determination. “Then let me prove it to you. Let me prove that I'm still the man you fell in love with. I know I can't fix everything, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying if that's what it takes.”

For a long moment, Remus said nothing. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that mirrored the turmoil inside him. Finally, he stepped back, his voice weary but steady. “I don't know if I can trust you again, Sirius. But… maybe I want to try.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath, a faint flicker of hope in his eyes. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Grimmauld place was suffocating.

The house seemed to breathe its own bitterness, the walls steeped in years of Black family hatred and prejudice. The portraits hissed slurs, the air felt stagnant, and every corner carried the weight of a thousand unspoken arguments. For Sirius, it was a prison of its own making. He paced the drawing room like a restless wolf, his energy crackling just beneath the surface.

“You're going to wear a hole in the carpet if you do that,” Remus said softly from the doorway, a tinge of teasing in his tone. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his tired eyes tracking Sirius's movements.

Sirius stopped mid-stride, turning to face him. “Better the carpet than my sanity,” he muttered. “I can't stay locked in here, Moony. This house- it's poison. It reeks of them.”

Remus stepped closer, his boots barely making a sound on the old floorboards. He reached out and placed a hand on Sirius's arm. “I know it's hard,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “But you're not locked in here forever. This is temporary. You're safer here, and Harry needs you alive.”

Sirius scoffed, raking a hand through his hair. “Safe,” he spat. “What good is being safe if I can't do anything? If I can't fight? What's the bloody point, Remus?”

"You’re not useless, Sirius," Remus replied, his tone sharper now. "Harry needs you to stay alive, to be a part of his life. The Order needs you. I need you.”

Sirius stilled at that last part, his expression softening, but the fire in his eyes didn’t fade. "Do you?" he asked bitterly. "Because sometimes it feels like I’m already gone. Trapped in this bloody house, waiting for a war that’s already cost us everything. And every day, I feel like I’m losing pieces of myself. What’s left of me, Remus? What do you need that I can give you?”

Remus blinked, startled by the rawness in Sirius’s voice. He hadn’t expected him to go there- not tonight. He stepped closer, his hand finding Sirius’s shoulder again. "You," he said simply. "I need you, Sirius. Flawed, frustrated, and everything in between. You’re not the man you were before Azkaban, I know that. But you’re still you. And that’s enough.”

Sirius let out a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Enough," he echoed, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. "I don’t feel like enough. Not for you, not for Harry, not for this bloody war.”

"You don’t have to be perfect, Sirius," Remus said quietly, his voice steady despite the storm brewing in the room. "You just have to keep going. That’s what Harry needs from you. And that’s what I need from you.”

Sirius turned away, running a hand over his face. "You don’t understand, Remus," he said, his voice rough. "Every day in this house, I hear them. My mother’s voice, my father’s. Telling me I’m worthless. Telling me I’ll never be anything but a failure. And the worst part? Some days, I believe them.”

Remus felt his chest tighten, the weight of Sirius’s pain settling over him like a shroud. He stepped closer, his hand sliding down to Sirius’s wrist, grounding him. "You’re not a failure," he said firmly. "You’re not worthless. You’ve survived things no one should have to endure. You’re here. That’s enough for me.”

Sirius finally turned to face him, his eyes glassy with emotion. "I don’t know how you do it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "How you’ve stayed strong all these years. After losing James and Lily. After everything with Peter. And now… this.”

Remus gave him a sad smile. "I haven’t stayed strong, Sirius," he admitted. "I’ve fallen apart more times than I can count. But I’ve learned to pick myself back up, piece by piece. And I’ll help you do the same, if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, Sirius just stared at him, the weight of his words settling into the cracks in his armor. Then, quietly, he said, "Sometimes I wonder if the only thing keeping me together is you.”

Remus’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Sirius’s voice. He stepped closer, their foreheads nearly touching. "You’re stronger than you think," he said softly. "But you don’t have to carry this alone. We’ll get through this. Together.”

Sirius leaned into the touch, his body trembling ever so slightly. "Together," he echoed, as though the word itself was a lifeline.

But as the silence stretched between them, Sirius’s gaze darkened, his emotions bubbling back to the surface. "What if we don’t, though?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. "What if we don’t get through this, Remus? What if something happens to Harry? Or to you? Or to me? What if we lose everything again?”

Remus hesitated, his own fears clawing at the back of his mind. He didn’t have an answer for that- no one did. But he couldn’t let Sirius drown in his doubt.

"Then we fight for what we have now," he said quietly. "For Harry, for the Order, for each other. We’ve already lost too much, Sirius. We can’t afford to give up.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides. "You make it sound so simple," he said bitterly.

"It’s not simple," Remus admitted. "It’s messy, and painful, and sometimes it feels impossible. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Sirius closed his eyes, the words washing over him like a balm. For the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders eased, if only slightly. "I’m trying, Remus," he said softly. "I really am. I just… I don’t know how to make peace with everything.”

"You don’t have to figure it out all at once," Remus said. "One step at a time. That’s all anyone can do.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the flickering firelight casting shadows across their faces. Then, finally, Sirius reached out and pulled Remus into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Don’t let me fall apart," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"I won’t," Remus promised, his arms wrapping around Sirius. "I won’t let you.”

It was almost midnight when Sirius nudged Remus awake, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Come on, Moony,” he whispered, quiet but insistent.

Remus groaned, pulling the pile of blankets tighter around him. “Sirius, if this is about Kreacher nicking your clothes again, I swear-”

“It's not Kreacher,” Sirius interrupted, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “I've got something to show you. But we have to leave. Now.”

Remus blinked up at him, groggy and confused. “Leave? Sirius, you know we can't just-”

“We can, and we are,” Sirius said as he pulled Remus out of bed with surprising strength for someone so lean. “Trust me, you'll like this.”

Despite his grumbling, Remus allowed himself to be dragged down the narrow stairs of Grimmauld Place and out the door into the chilly night. Sirius had a determined look on his face, his grip on Remus's hand firm as he got ready to Apparate.

When the slight nausea and fuzzy vision eased, Remus finally saw what Sirius wanted to show him. They stood at the edge of an abandoned beach, the ocean stretching endlessly before them. The waves crashed softly against the shore, and the sky above was an endless expanse of stars, bright and unyielding. 

“Sirius,” Remus breathed, staring out at the water. “What are we doing here?”

“Living,” Sirius said simply, his voice steady. He turned to face Remus, his eyes reflecting the starlight. “I've been trapped for too long, Moony. In Azkaban. In Grimmauld Place. I needed this. And I needed to share this with you.”

Remus felt his chest tighten. The raw honesty in Sirius's voice was rare, a vulnerability he didn't often show.

They walked together along the lapping shoreline, their boots crushing against the sand. Sirius talked about nothing and everything- memories of their school days, the first time he rode a motorbike, the way the ocean always made him feel free. After a while, Remus stopped responding and simply listened, letting Sirius's voice wash over him. When they stopped, Sirius turned to him, his face inches away. The wind tousled his hair slightly, but his gaze was steady.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” Sirius asked, his voice quiet.

Remus smiled faintly. “In the Astronomy Tower,” he said. “During sixth year. You were worried James would catch us sneaking back up to the dorms.”

Sirius grinned, a boyish spark lighting up his face. “I was worried because James always had the bloody map.”

Remus laughed softly, the sound low and warm. For a moment, it felt as though the years had melted away, and they were just two boys again, stealing moments of joy in the midst of chaos.

And then Sirius kissed him.

It was slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that left no room for hesitation or doubt. Sirius's hands came up to cradle Remus's face, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared. When they pulled apart, Remus's heart was pounding, his breath shallow. 

“It feels like the first time,” he murmured.

Sirius smiled, his thumb brushing lightly against Remus's cheek. “Then let's make it count.”

Under the stars, with the ocean whispering its eternal song, they kissed again, rediscovering the passion that had first drawn them together so many years ago.

The house was still. Grimmauld Place always seemed quieter at night, as though the weight of its history pressed harder when no one was awake to push back against it. Remus sat by the small desk in his room, his notebook open in front of him. He hadn't written in a while- not since their moment on the beach, under the stars. But tonight, the words itched at the edges of his mind, asking to be let out. He dipped his quill into the ink and began, the slow scrape of pen against paper breaking the silence.

You are my lighthouse. My sailor lost at sea, returned to shore. You, who once burned so bright it frightened me. You, who made my heart believe in something impossible- a love without an anchor, but never without a destination.

The words flowed more easily now, as though speaking to the paper felt safer than speaking aloud. He thought of Sirius- of his wild laugh and the way his voice would crack with emotion whenever he truly believed in something. Sirius was like a storm, chaotic and fierce, but also a quiet kind of strength, a reminder that even the wildest seas could be navigated.

Pausing, Remus tapped the quill against the edge of the desk, his mind drifting to the lyrics Sirius had once sung to him. It had been years- long before Azkaban, before betrayal, before war had torn them apart. Sirius had found the song on a Muggle radio channel, and its words had stuck with him since.

“Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?” Sirius had crooned one night, teasing, laughing, before pulling Remus into a kiss.

The memory hit him like a rush of warmth, and he couldn't help but smile. The lyrics slipped easily into his thoughts, and he scribbled it into the margin of his notebook.

Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?

He stared at the words for a long moment before continuing.

I see you now, not as the storm, but the survivor of it. We are wreckage rebuilt, driftwood shapes into something new, stronger than the tides.

Remus stared at the page, his heart pounding softly in his chest. He thought of the way Sirius had kissed him on the beach, like it was both a promise and a plea.

I sleep so I can see you, he wrote in the notebook, his hand steady. I hate to wait so long.

The words were simple but honest, and for the first time in years, Remus felt the weight of his grief lift, even if only slightly. Sirius had always brought out something in him- poetry, hope, and now, the belief that they could build something stronger than what had been broken.

He closed the notebook carefully, running his fingers over its frayed edges. In the quiet of the room, he allowed himself a moment of peace, knowing that no matter what storms lay ahead, Sirius would be there, waiting to meet him at the shore.

The atmosphere at Grimmauld Place had grown heavier as news of Voldemort's movements trickled in. The Order was on edge, and the looking threat of war hung over them like a stormcloud. Every conversation seemed laced with tension, and every movement was spent waiting for the next attack, the next loss.

One evening, as the others slept, Sirius found Remus sitting in the drawing room, staring into the fire. His shoulders were hunched, his fingers steepled as though in prayer, though Sirius knew he didn't believe in such things.

Sirius approached quietly, his footsteps soft against the carpet. “Couldn't sleep?” he asked, sitting down beside him.

Remus shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the flickering flames. “There's too much to think about,” he admitted. His voice was low, almost hollow, as if the weight of everything had pressed it into something smaller.

Sirius leaned back, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his wand in his pocket. For a minute, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't peaceful either- it was the kind of silence that carries the unspoken fears they were too tired to face.

Then, softly, Sirius said, “You know, I've been thinking about what you said. About not trusting me before.” Remus tensed slightly but didn't interrupt. “You were right,” Sirius continued. “I should have trusted you. And I didn't. But I trust you now, Moony. More than anyone. More than myself, most days.”

Remus turned to look at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “What brought this on?”

Sirius hesitated, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He stared into the fire for a long moment, as if searching for the right words. Finally, he spoke. “The Department of Mysteries. If it comes to it- if we go into battle- I need you to promise me something.”

Remus frowned, shifting slightly in his chair. “Sirius-”

“Promise me,” Sirius said firmly, cutting him off. His voice was quiet yet still carried an urgency that made Remus's heart clench. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll keep fighting. For Harry. For the Order. For yourself.” 

Remus's throat tightened, and he looked away, staring into the fire. “Don't talk like that.”

“I have to,” Sirius replied. He leaned closer, reaching out to take Remus's hand. His grip was firm but trembling, like he was trying to anchor himself to something. “Moony, listen to me. We don't need the world to love us. We never have. But if I lose you again, I need to know you'll keep going. That you'll find a way to love, even without me.”

Remus swallowed hard. The words cut deeper than he cared to admit. He had lived without Sirius before- lived with the belief that he was gone, that he betrayed them all. And although he survived, he wasn't sure he truly lived. “Don't put that on me,” he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don't make me promise to carry on without you when the thought of losing you again is unbearable.”

“You think it's any easier for me?” Sirius shot back, his voice trembling. “You think I haven't laid awake every night imagining what would happen to you if I wasn't here? The war's already taken so much from us, Remus. James, Lily, and so many others. But I can't let it take you too.”

Remus finally looked at him, his amber eyes dark with emotion. "And what about me?" he asked, his voice rising slightly. "Do you think I can stand to lose you again? Do you think I want to go back to being the broken man I was before you escaped Azkaban? You talk about trust, but do you trust me to survive that?”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. He tightened his grip on Remus’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the scarred knuckles. "I’m not asking you to move on," Sirius said, his voice raw. "I’m asking you to keep going. There’s a difference. You don’t have to forget me. Hell, I don’t want you to. But if the worst happens, I need to know you’ll fight for Harry, for the world we wanted to build together. For yourself.”

Remus looked at him for a long moment, his chest tightening with the weight of the request. He saw the desperation in Sirius’s eyes, the way his voice wavered with fear and love. And though every fiber of his being rebelled against the thought of losing him, he nodded. “I promise,” he whispered.

Sirius exhaled sharply, as though he had been holding his breath. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Remus’s. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Remus closed his eyes, the heat of Sirius’s breath brushing against his skin. For a moment, the war outside seemed distant, as though they were the only two people left in the world. "I don’t want to imagine a world without you," he admitted quietly.

"Neither do I," Sirius said. "But I’ll be damned if I let Voldemort take away what little hope we have left.”

They stayed like that for a while, their foreheads touching, hands intertwined. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Finally, Sirius pulled back, though his hand lingered in Remus’s. "We’ll get through this," he said, his voice steadier now.

“Together,” Remus said.

“Together,” Sirius echoed, a faint smile on his face.

Chapter Text

The air in the Department of Mysteries crackled with energy, thick with the clash of spells and screams of battle. Bright jets of light cut through the dim chamber, reflecting off glass orbs that rattled precariously on their shelves. Sirius moved like a shadow, ducking and weaving, his wand slashing through the air as he sent a Stupefy toward one of the Death Eaters.

“Stay close Harry!” he shouted, his voice hoarse but commanding. His godson was just a few feet away, dodging a jet of red light with an ability that Sirius couldn't help but admire and fear for.

Bellatrix's laughter echoed through the chaos, sharp and manic. She danced across the chamber, her wand arcing like a conductor's baton, directing death with every flick of her wrist. “You're mine, dear cousin!” she cried, her wild eyes locking onto Sirius.

Sirius smirked, his heart racing as adrenaline surged through his veins. “Not today, Bella!” he shot back, firing a Bombarda that she narrowly avoided, the impact shattering a nearby shelf of prophecies into glittering shards.

Their duel intensified, the years of bitterness and family betrayal manifesting in every spell cast. Sirius pushed her back, matching her wild ferocity, but even in his focus, he was aware of the chaos around him- from the Order and the Death Eaters locked in combat, to Harry and his friends fighting for their lives.

It happened so fast Sirius almost didn't see it.

Bellatrix's wand slashed forward, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she screamed, “Avada Kedarva!”

The green light shot toward him faster than thought. Sirius threw himself to the side, his shoulder slamming hard into the ground as the curse missed him by mere inches. His heart seized, but there was no time to dwell- Remus's voice rang out from across the room.

“Sirius, behind you!” He rolled instinctively, just in time to avoid another curse from a Death Eater. Without missing a beat, Sirius retaliated, his Stupefy hitting its mark. Gasping for breath, he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring how his body screamed in protest.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Bellatrix retreating toward the dais, where Voldemort loomed. But something else had changed. Harry, wand in hand, stood defiant, faxing down the Dark Lord himself, and in that moment, the prophecy that had haunted them all began to unfold.

A flash of green light erupted from Voldemort's wand, but Harry's wand was faster, a golden light cutting through the air and striking Voldemort square in the chest. For a moment, time seemed to stop. Voldemort's crimson eyes widened in shock as his body crumpled to the ground, his death so sudden it felt unreal.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bellatrix's scream tore through the chamber, but she was quickly subdued by Kingsley and Tonks. The remaining Death Eaters, disorientated by the fall of their master, began to flee, but the Order were more relentless than ever, quickly capturing or incapacitating them with ruthless efficiency.

Sirius stood frozen, his chest heaving as he looked over to Voldemort's lifeless body.

It was over. The war was over.

The weeks after Voldemort's defeat were a blur of celebration and chaos. Sirius was now a free man. The truth of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal had finally come to light, and the Ministry, desperate to save whatever positive reputation they still had, issued a public apology, clearing Sirius of all charges.

At first, the freedom was exhilarating. Sirius reveled in the ability to walk through Diagon Alley without fear, to sit in a café without disguises or shadows looking over him. But soon enough, the attention became suffocating.

Everywhere he went, reporters swarmed him, eager for a quote from the infamous Sirius Black, the man who had escaped Azkaban and fought Voldemort. Headlines screamed his name: “The Hero Who Defied Death,” “Sirius Black: Triumphant and Innocent.” Photographers trailed his every move, and strangers approached him with awkward smiles and requests for autographs.

He hated it.

At Grimmauld Place, Sirius paced the drawing room, his movements as restless as they had been during the war. “This is bloody ridiculous,” he muttered. “I didn't fight a war just to become some spectacle for the press.”

Remus, seated on the worn sofa with a cup of tea in hand, raised an eyebrow. “You're famous, Sirius. It was bound to happen.”

“I don't want to be famous!” Sirius snapped, his frustration bubbling over. He turned to face Remus, his grey eyes stormy. “I just want to live. Really live, for once. No war, no reporters, no bloody Ministry breathing down my neck. Just… us.”

Remus set his cup down. “What are you saying?”

Sirius hesitated, then stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I'm saying we leave. The Wizarding World, the Order- all of it. We've done our part, Moony. We've fought and bled and sacrificed everything. Don't you think we've earned a chance to just… be happy?”

Remus looked at him for a long moment, his amber eyes searching Sirius's face. “Where would we go?”

“The Muggle world,” Sirius said immediately. “We could disappear, live quietly. No one would bother us there. No one would care who we are or what we've done.”

A small smile tugged at Remus's lips. “And what would we do in the Muggle world? I don't exactly have marketable skills, unless someone's hiring for a part time werewolf.”

Sirius laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “We'll figure it out,” he said. “We always do.”

Remus shook his head, but his smile widened. “You're serious about this, aren't you?”

“Dead serious,” Sirius replied, his grin lopsided.

Remus sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “Alright,” he said at last. “Let's do it.”

The transition into the Muggle world was easier than they expected. Sirius converted his family money into the Muggle currency to buy a modest cottage in the countryside. It was a small, two bedroom house with ivy creeping up the some walls and a garden overrun with wildflowers.

For the first time in years, their lives slowed down.

Sirius found work as a mechanic, his love of Muggle motorbikes making the job a perfect fit. He came home each evening with grease smudged on his hands and a satisfied smile on his face, regaling Remus with tales of his eccentric co-workers and the quirks of the engines he'd repaired.

Remus continued teaching, a job he enjoyed when he was employed as the DADA teacher at Hogwarts. A nearby Muggle primary school hired him as a tutor for struggling students, and he quickly became a favorite among the children for his gentle presence and dry sense of humor.

Their days were quiet and remarkable, filled with morning coffee in the garden, evenings by the fire, and the simple pleasure of living without fear.

But it wasn't always easy.

One evening, as they say on the porch admiring the sunset, Sirius broke the uncomfortable silence. “Do you miss it?”

Remus glanced at him. “The Wizarding World?”

“Yeah.” Sirius looked out at the horizon. “Magic, the Order, even Hogwarts. Sometimes it feels like we left behind a part of ourselves.”

Remus was silent for a moment, considering his words. “I miss parts of it. But not enough to go back. For the first time, I feel like I can breathe. Like we can be ourselves, without anyone watching or judging.”

Sirius nodded slowly, his hand reaching out to intertwine with Remus's. “Yeah. Me too.”

Their relationship also began to heal in ways neither of them had expected.

One afternoon, Remus found Sirius in the lounge, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a photo album open in front of him. The pages were filled with pictures of their time at Hogwarts- images of James and Lily laughing in the Gryffindor Common Room, of the Marauders huddled together under the Whomping Willow trying not to get going, of Sirius with his arm slung around Remus's shoulders, both of them grinning like they didn't have a care in the world.

“You've been looking at that a lot lately,” Remus said, sitting down beside Sirius.

Sirius shrugged, his fingers brushing over a photo of James holding baby Harry. “I just… I don't want to forget them,” he said quietly.

“You won't,” Remus said, his voice gentle. “They're a part of us. Always.”

Sirius turned to look at him, his grey eyes soft. “I don't know what I'd do without you, Moony.”

“And you'll never have to find out,” Remus replied, leaning in to press a kiss to Sirius's temple.

They sat together, rain pattering softly against the windows, and for the first time in a long time, Sirius felt at peace.

The stars were bright that summer evening, scattered like spilled diamonds across the inky sky. Sirius and Remus sat in the garden of their home, the quiet hum of the world around them broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. A bottle of wine sat on the table between them, half-finished, its rich scent mingling with the aroma of wildflowers.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on the table, a content smile on his lips. “Do you think we'll ever get tired of this?” he asked.

Remus chucked, testing his elbows on the table as he watched the dragonflies dance around the grass. “Not likely,” he replied. “Though I do wonder how long it'll take you to start a revelation among the local Muggles.”

Sirius grinned, tilting his head to look back at the stars. I'll need at least another year to warm up to them. But once I do, watch out!”

They both laughed, the sound warm and free. It carried into the night like a melody, wrapping around them like the life they had rebuilt.

But even as they joked, Remus felt a pull in his chest, something quiet and bittersweet, like the closing of a chapter he hadn't realised he'd been writing for years. He stood suddenly, earning a curious glance from Sirius.

“Where are you off to?”

“Just a minute.” Remus disappeared into the house, his steps deliberate, the faint hum of nostalgia buzzing in his veins.

Upstairs, in their shared bedroom, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out his notebook. Its edges were frayed, the once-sturdy cover now soft and worn. He traded the spine with his fingers, his heart heavy but full.

It had been years since he'd first started using the notebook- a refuge for emotions he couldn't speak aloud, a lifeline when the world felt too heavy to bear. It had been his companion through loss, grief, anger, and uncertainty. But tonight, as he opened it to the last page, he realised something had shifted.

For the first time in decades, he felt at peace.

Remus sat at his desk, dipping his quill into the inkpot, hand steady as he began to write. The words came easily, like an exhale after a deep breath, carrying with them the quiet happiness he hadn't thought was possible.

We can run away to the walls inside your house, find shelter in the spaces we never thought we'd fill. The ghosts that once haunted me are quieter now, their whispers fading beneath the sound of your warm laugh. 

You are still a storm, Sirius, but now I see the calm you carry too. Not reckless, but relentless. Not untamed, but alive.

I never thought I would have this- a love without secrets, a life without shadows. But here we are, standing in the light, our scars no longer things to hide. You've taught me that peace isn't silent. Instead, it humanlike fireflies at dusk, it sings like laughter under the stars, and it feels like home- like you.

When he finished, Remus stared at the page, his chest tight with emotion. The words felt so final in a way that didn't scare him. For the first time, he realised he no longer needed the notebook. It had been a tool, a way to process feelings he couldn't face- but now, with Sirius by his side, those feelings no longer frightened him.

He carefully set the notebook down on the desk, the ink still drying on the page as he walked back outside. Sirius looked up as he approached, a curious look on his face.

“Everything alright?” Sirius asked. 

“Everything's perfect,” Remus said.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “Perfect? That's a good claim, Moony.”

Remus laughed, his thumb brushing lightly over Sirius's knuckles. “Well, as perfect as things can be when you're involved.”

Sirius smirked, leaning closer. "I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, their hands still clasped as the night deepened around them. Above, the stars shone bright and steady, and in the quiet warmth of their shared world, Sirius and Remus finally found what they had been searching for all their lives.

Chapter Text

Bellatrix’s wand whipped through the air, sending a jet of green light streaking toward Sirius. He twisted awkwardly, narrowly avoiding the curse, his boot skidding on shards of glass. His laughter rang out, sharp and defiant, a sound of his reckless determination.

“Come on Bella! That the best you got?” he taunted, forcing her attention onto him.

She sneered, her eyes glinting with malice. “You’ve always been so foolish. So eager to die like the hero you never were.”

Sirius didn’t answer, his wand already flashing with another curse. They circled each other like prey, the tension suffocating. Bellatrix cast a Confringo, and Sirius countered with a Protego, the spells colliding in an explosion that sent both of them staggering back. In the periphery of his vision, Sirius saw Harry grappling with Lucius Malfoy, his wand trembling as he fenced off the older wizard's relentless attacks. For a brief moment, Sirius considered rushing over to Harry and helping, but Bellatrix took advantage of his distraction, sending a curse slamming into his shoulder.

He cried out, pain searing through him, but he refused to fall. “You'll have to try harder than that!” he growled, straightening up despite the burning ache.

Bellatrix's laugh echoed again, high and shrill. “Oh, I plan to, cousin.”

The duel continued, Sirius holding his ground in the chaos around him. He knew he was outmatched in raw hatred- Bellatrix was unrelenting, fuelled by a darkness Sirius could never understand- but he fought with a purpose far stronger than hers. The chamber seemed to shrink as the battle raged on, the cries of combatants swallowed by the deafening sound of spells ricocheting around. Sirius turned back to Bellatrix just as she clicked her wand sharply. Time seemed to slow as a sickly green light erupted from its tip, heading directly toward him.

His instincts screamed at him to move, to duck, to just do anything, but he wasn't fast enough. The curse struck him square in the chest, his body jolting from the impact. He stumbled back, a shocked gasp leaving his lips as he felt his wand slip from his fingers. He felt weightless, his body tilting backward as though the world itself was pulling him away.

“No!” Harry's voice tore through the air, raw and anguished.

Sirius barely registered the sound. His vision blurred, his senses numbed as he fell through the veil. The last thing he saw was Bellatrix's victorious smile and the terror in Harry's eyes.

And then there was nothing.

The chamber grew eerily silent, the veil fluttering as if in mockery. Harry stood frozen, his wand dangling uselessly at his side, and his wide eyes fixed on the spot where Sirius disappeared.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, no, no!”

Remus appeared by Harry's side, his face pale, movements frantic as he grabbed the boy's shoulders. “Harry, we have to go!”

“But Sirius-”

“He's gone!” Remus's voice cracked, the weight of the words nearly breaking him. “We can't do anything for him now. We have to get out of here before-” A new surge of Death Eaters flooded into the chamber, cutting off any further argument. With a desperate tug Remus pulled Harry away, his heart shattering with every step they took. The world around Remus felt distant and distorted, as though he were moving through water. The chaos of the battle became nothing more than a blur of sound and colour: the sharp sound of spells colliding, the screeches of Death Eaters and Order members, and Harry's laboured breaths as they stumbled together through the chamber.

But in his mind, one thought eclipsed all else.

Sirius was gone.

He tightened his grip on Harry's arm, dragging him forward with a desperation that wasn't just for Harry's safety, but also for himself. If he stopped now, if he let himself down, the weight of what had happened would crush him.

The man he loved- the man who had held him through restless nights, who had missed him under the stars, who had promised to fight by his side until the end- was gone. Not just gone, but taken, torn from him in the blink of an eye, his life extinguished in a flash of green light. Remus's chest ached as the memory replayed itself over and over, seared into his mind. Sirius's smirk, so confident and defiant, right before Bellatrix's curse hit him. The way his body had stumbled back as if in slow motion, right before it fell through the veil. The awful finality of it.

And the worst part was that Remus wasn't there in time to save him. He had seen the curse, seen the danger, but his legs hadn't carried him fast enough. He had been too far away, too slow, too late.

“Remus, wait!” Harry's voice cut through his gaze, and Remus realised they had come to a stop behind a tall stone archway, using it as a cover against the onslaught of spells flying through the chamber.

“Harry,” Remus panted, his voice trembling. “We have to keep moving. They'll find us here-”

“We can't leave him!” Harry shouted, his voice breaking. Tears streamed down his face, and his green eyes burned with anguish. “We have to go back! He might still be alive-”

“He's not!” The words left Remus before he could stop them, harsher than he intended. Harry recoiled slightly, and Remus softened his tone, though his voice still shook. “He's gone, Harry. I'm sorry, but we can't help him now.”

Harry shook his head violently, and his hands balled into fists. “You don't know that!”

“I do.” Remus’s voice cracked again, and he had to steady himself against the stone archway, his legs threatening to give out. His free hand clenched at his chest, as if trying to physically hold himself together. “I saw it. I saw the curse. He's- he's not coming back.”

 The words tasted like ash in his mouth, their truth hitting him like a dagger to the heart. Sirius was gone. There would be no more reckless grins, no more whispered promises, no more stolen moments of joy. The thought hollowed him out, leaving him raw and exposed.

But Harry was still staring at him, his expression desperate, like a child pleading with the universe to undo the impossible. “He wouldn't have left us. Not like this,” Harry said, his voice barely audible.

Remus swapped hard, his throat tight. “He didn't leave us, Harry,” he said quietly, his voice softer now. “He fought for you- for all of us- until the very end. That's who Sirius is- was.” The words felt hollow to him, but Harry seemed to draw some strength from them, his tears slowing as he nodded shakily. Remus peeked around the corner of the archway, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. The fighting raged on in every direction, the room bathed in the eerie spells streaking through the air. Death Eaters darted between rows of shelves, their masks gleaming in the dim light, while the Order and Harry's friends fought desperately to hold them back.

But the details felt unreal to Remus, like he was watching from someone else's perspective. His own movements felt automatic, his spells instinctive, as though his body were acting on muscle memory alone. A Stupefy here, a Protego there- he didn't think, didn't aim. He couldn't. Because in the corners of his mind, Sirius's voice was still there, still echoing, "We'll get through this together, Moony."

But they hadn't.

Remus felt a rush of heat behind his eyes and blinked furiously, forcing himself to focus. If he lost control now, they would all be dead, and Sirius's sacrifice would mean nothing.

“Come on,” he said to Harry, his voice tight but steady enough to mask the storm inside him. He tugged the boy forward, weaving through the chamber toward the edges of the room, where they might find cover or an escape. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of grief pressing harder with each passing second. His mind churned with memories, bright and searing, of Sirius: his bark-like laugh, the way he always tilted his head when he smiled, the softness in his voice whenever he whispered “I love you, Moony.”

And now, it was all gone.

How could you leave me? The thought clawed at him, though he hated himself for it. Sirius hadn’t chosen this- he’d died as he lived, recklessly throwing himself into the fight for the people he loved. But the anger burned inside Remus anyway, tangled with the grief and guilt until it felt impossible to untangle. A flash of red light seared past his head, snapping him back to reality. He shoved Harry behind a column just as a Death Eater rounded the corner, their wand raised.

"Stupefy!" Remus shouted, the force of the spell sending the masked figure hurtling backward. He turned to Harry, his voice firm despite the crack in his composure. "Stay close. No matter what, stay close.” Harry nodded, his face pale but determined, and they pressed on. The fighting grew louder, closer, and Remus could barely tell who was casting what anymore. It was all light and sound and chaos, and through it all, Sirius’s absence loomed like a gaping wound.

And then, suddenly, there was a sound that cut through everything- a deep, resonant whoosh, followed by the roar of green flames. Remus turned, his breath catching as he saw figures stepping through the fireplaces that lined the chamber’s edges. At first, he tensed, expecting reinforcements for the Death Eaters. But then he saw him- Dumbledore, tall and calm amidst the chaos, his blue robes swirling as he stepped into the fray. Relief flooded through Remus like a wave, though it did little to dull the ache in his chest. He watched as Dumbledore raised his wand, his presence commanding even the most frenzied of battles. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed a group of Death Eaters, their wands flying from their hands as they stumbled back in fear. 

The tide was turning, but Remus barely felt it. All he could think about was the empty space where Sirius should have been.

The night after the battle, the world felt eerily still. The weight of the fight, of the losses, pressed heavy on Remus's chest, yet the silence of Grimmauld Place only made it worse.

Remus sat at his desk, the battered notebook open before him. It lay there like a challenge, its pages full of memories he wasn't sure he was strong enough to visit. He stared at a blank page, his quill poised but unmoving. Writing had always been his way of untangling the thoughts he couldn't bear to say aloud, but tonight, the words felt impossible.

And yet, they came. Slowly at first, like a gash being reopened.

You left me, Sirius. Not by choice, I know, but you're gone, and I-

He stopped, his hand trembling as tears blurred his vision.

And I don't know how to do this without you.

He blinked furiously, forcing himself to breathe as he dipped the quill back into the inkwell.

I’ve tried everything, you know. The Order’s plans. The books you teased me for hoarding. Even sitting here, writing in this bloody notebook. But nothing can capture the sting of losing you. Lately, I’ve tried other things, but the venom you left behind is still there, biting at my heart every time I close my eyes. I can still hear your voice in this house. Laughing, shouting, even cursing at Kreacher. I hear it when I’m awake, and I hear it in my dreams. And when I dream of you, it’s so real I hate to wake up, because then I lose you all over again.

He paused, his breathing shallow as his tears dripped onto the page. He could almost hear Sirius’s voice, low and teasing: “What are you scribbling about this time, Moony?”

I don’t know how to carry you forward, Sirius. I promised Harry we would fight for what comes next, and I promised you I wouldn’t let you down. But you’ve left me adrift, for good this time, and I don’t know where to begin.

His quill hovered, but this time, the words didn’t come. Instead, he sat back in the chair, the notebook still open before him, the ink drying on the page. He pressed his hand to the desk, his fingertips brushing the grooves and scratches that Sirius had left over the years.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, bittersweet and fleeting. "You always did leave a mark, didn’t you?" he murmured into the empty room. And though the silence still felt heavy, for a second, it felt ever so lighter. 

At Grimmauld place, the house felt colder than ever. Without Sirius, it seemed as though the shadows had grown longer, and the air heavier. The once-chaotic energy Sirius brought to every corner of the house had vanished, leaving only an aching void in its place. 

The other members of the Order moved about with grim determination, their faces pale and drawn as they prepared for the battles ahead. 

But no one dared to enter Sirius's room, not even Harry. Everyone felt it: Sirius's absence was a wound that ran deep, and a scar they would carry forever. Remus lingered in the doorway of the room that had once been Sirius's. For hours, he just stood there, unable to cross the threshold. From where he stood, Remus could see how the bed was unmade, the sheets tangled as though Sirius had just left them. A mug sat on the bedside table, the tea inside long gone cold. His boots were haphazardly kicked into the corner, one lying on its side. It felt wrong, entering his space. Like disturbing something sacred. But eventually, the ache of his chest pulled him forward, and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The smell of Sirius was stronger- cigarettes, leather, and the faint, earthy scent that had always clung to him. It was so him that for one, agonising moment, Remus half-expected him to walk through the door, flashing that crooked grin and demanding to know why Remus looked like he had swallowed a lemon. But the door stayed closed, and the silence pressed in.

Remus sank to the edge of the bed, his hands shaking as he picked up Sirius's leather jacket from where it had been draped unceremoniously on a bedpost. It was worn and cracked in places, but it had always suited him- rebellious, defiant, unapologetically Sirius.  He clutched the jacket to his chest, his breath hitching as tears finally spilled over. The sobs came hard and fast, wracking his body as he let himself grieve in the solitude of this space.

“You promised me we'd fight together,” he whispered, his voice raw. “You promised we'd see this through.” 

He thought of Sirius's laugh, the way it had ached with freedom after Azkaban. He thought of the nights they had spent curled up on this bed, whispering about the future they might have once the war was over. He thought of Sirius's hands- so strong, yet so gentle- tracing the scars on his chest and murmuring that he loved him despite them, because of them.

And now, he was gone.

Grimmauld Place had always been a prison to Sirius, but now it was a tomb. And Remus, who had once relied on Sirius to remind him how to live, was left wondering how he could possibly survive without him. 

The Order tried to console him. Molly brought him tea he couldn't bring himself to drink. Arthur patted his shoulder with a sad smile. Even Harry, despite his own grief shrouding him, tried to apologise, blaming himself for Sirius's death.

“It wasn't your fault,” Remus told him one night, his voice soft but firm as they sat by the fire. Harry's face was streaked with tears, hands clenched into fists.

“He was trying to save me,” Harry choked out. “If I hadn't- if I'd just-”

“Harry.” Remus placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Sirius made his own choices. He died fighting for what he believed in, for the people he loved. That's just who he was. You couldn't have stopped him.” Harry didn't respond, but his sobs quietened slightly. Remus leaned back in his chair, staring into the fire. He didn't tell Harry the rest of what he wanted to say- that Sirius's death had broken him too. That he woke every morning with the crushing weight of Sirius's absence and went to bed every night wishing he'd fought harder, shouted louder, done something to save him.

But that wasn't something Harry needed to hear.

Weeks passed, but the grief remained. The house had resumed its uneasy rhythm, with Order members coming and going, planning their next moves against Voldemort's forces. But for Remus, time felt frozen.

One quiet afternoon, he found himself standing in front of the Black family tapestry, his eyes scanning the intricate threads. He had never paid much attention to it before- Sirius had loathed it, always snarling about his family's obsession with blood purity and twisted ideals.

Now though, it felt like the closest thing to Sirius he had left.

His gaze landed on the burnt hole where Sirius's name had been blasted off the tapestry. He remembered Sirius showing it to him once, years ago, with a mixture of pride and anger.

“They thought they could erase me,” Sirius had said, his voice filled with defiance. “But they'll never get rid of me. Not really.”

Remus reached out now, his fingers brushing over the blackened fabric. His throat tightened as he thought of everything Sirius had endured- the abuse, the rejection, the years in Azkaban, and finally, his death. Yet through it all, Sirius had never stopped fighting. He let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into a fist against the tapestry. “You hated this house,” he murmured. “But it was still home, wasn't it? Because you were here.”

The silence pressed in harder, and for a moment, Remus thought he might break under the weight of it. But then he straightened, his jaw tightening as resolve replaced the grief threatening to drown him.

“I'll keep my promise,” he said aloud, his voice stronger now. “I'll fight, Sirius. For you. For Harry. For all of us.” As the words left his lips, he felt something shift inside him. The pain was still there- it always would be- but it no longer felt like a shackle. Instead, it was a reminder, a tether to the man who had loved him fiercely and fought beside him until the very end. Sirius may have been gone, but his spirit lived on- in Harry, in the Order, and in the memories that burned brighter than the darkest of days.

Remus stepped away from the tapestry. There was still so much to do, and though the future felt uncertain, he would face it the only way Sirius would have wanted him to: head-on, with no regrets.