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“MOONY!” Sirius hollered across the cottage.
“Yes Pads?” Remus replied, at a slightly more appropriate volume considering they were about twenty paces away from each other. Their cottage was small but placed in a nice Welsh muggle village with neighbours that were nice enough to them, despite some of their oddities. And they had either not clocked onto the distinct homosexual energy radiating from them, or were nice enough not to care about it.
“We’re out of coat hangers.” Emerging from the hallway, Sirius held up their last remaining hanger alongside the two garments yet to find a home: Sirius’ new leather jacket that somehow already smelled like oil and potions from long hours at work in his garage, and yet another of Remus’ far too large grandad jumpers. This one was extra special, commissioned by James, Sirius and Pete from Euphemia Potter at Christmas last year. All shades of sage, cornflower and chocolate, it had four animals (no prizes for guessing which four) chasing each other around the wool.
“Just put em on the same one,” Remus said, turning away from the eggs he was boiling briefly to demonstrate, hanging the jumper on and draping the jacket over it. “See?”
Sirius chuckled, “They look like a person,” he said, dashing into the bedroom and pulling out a pair of jeans from the wardrobe, holding them up beneath the hanger. “Look!”
Remus rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, “You’re an idiot.”
“But I’m your idiot.”
“And a sap.”
A smile took over Sirius’ face as he threw the hanger and jeans onto the sofa and wrapped his arms around Remus, leaning his face against his shoulder, breathing the smell of tea leaves and chocolate. “I love you.”
“Love you too Pa-- SHIT!”
Remus pulled away from what should have been a very long and very enjoyable hug, much to both of their dismay, and raced to the stove, grabbing the pan of eggs, which proved to be a very, very bad idea when already boiling over water jumped out of the pan and onto his hand. In a wave of pain, he released it and it clattered to the floor, spilling scalding hot water everywhere. Soft yolk splattered across the tiles, luckily just missing their rug that sat beneath their dining table, if you could call it that. They very rarely ate at it, and it was currently littered with motorbike parts.
“REMUS!” Sirius yelled, panic rising in his voice as he grabbed some slippers and waded into the kitchen, grabbing Remus’ hand, which had begun to swell and blister, bright red from the water. “You okay?”
“I’ve dealt with worse than a burn, Sirius, don’t worry.”
Sirius didn’t listen, scrambling for his wand and pointing it to the burn. “ Episkey,” he said, and the red slowly dissipated. “And, the final step." He brought Remus’ hand to his lips. “Kiss it better.”
“Did I mention you’re a sap?”
“Only a thousand times a day,” Sirius looked around. “Sorry, Moons, I think I distracted you.”
“Don’t worry, we have an excuse to get take-out now.”
“Yes!” Sirius grabbed their shared hanger and hung it back up in the wardrobe, “But you’ll have to call because I have no clue how that thing works.”
~~
Remus knew something was wrong when Sirius’ jacket was still on their hanger.
Sirius had left a note, a very rushed note in chicken scratch. Sirius had the best handwriting Remus had ever seen and him neglecting it, and missing out letters in his note were even more signs that something was very, very wrong.
Sorry Im not here, somethng came up. Ill be home soon, love you x
James wasn’t picking up the phone, neither was Pete. Dumbledore was a last resort, but Remus was getting scarily close to picking up the phone and dialling the Order number, when the Daily Prophet owl swooped in through the window, cooing loudly. He practically tore the paper from the bird’s talons, but the moment he did, he regretted it.
THE BOY WHO LIVED: HARRY POTTER SAVES US ALL
Remus could have sworn his heart stopped.
You-Know-Who, our foe for so many years, has been vanquished by the most unlikely saviour! One year old Harry Potter was found in the early hours of the morning, miraculously surviving the killing curse and, in the process, murdering He Who Must Not Be Named. It is with great sadness that we inform you that the boy’s parents, James and Lily Potter, were martyred last night.
The paper dropped to the floor, and Remus followed soon. Suddenly, his fresh scars from the full felt like a scratch in comparison to the ache in his chest, the pain bubbling up in his throat. Lily and James were dead.
That sounded impossible. If you had asked Remus just yesterday, he would have said there was no way James Potter would die at twenty one. He was too full of life, of hopes and dreams and happiness to possibly die any time before ninety.
But there it was. In print, on the front page of the Daily Prophet. James was dead.
And then, a realisation even worse washed over him. Sirius had been their secret keeper, which meant he was either dead, or a traitor.
Remus had no clue which outcome was more likely. And, even worse, no clue which one was better.
Pushing aside the grief overwhelming his heart, he scoured the rest of the prophet for any mention of Sirius or Pete, hell, he’d take fifty articles about James and Lily if it meant just one mention of Sirius Black, just one confirmation that Sirius was alive, or maybe that he was dead, Remus didn’t care anymore. He just needed to know.
Two hours, three reads of the paper later, there was a knock on the door.
“Hagrid? What are you-- Harry!”
Hagrid stood in the doorway, baby Harry in his arms, awake and babbling. “Remus,” he said, just as Harry cried out, “Moo-Moo!”
“Harry-- Hagrid, what’s going on?”
“Sorry Remus, can’t stop,” Hagrid said. His eyes were red, swollen, like he’d just been crying, and he kept on clearing his throat, almost certainly to stop himself bursting into tears once again. “I’ve strict orders from Dumbledore. Just need to fill up Sirius’ bike, it’s dying on me.”
“Sirius’ bike?! Have you seen him--”
“Saw ‘im at the Potters’ as I was pickin’ up Harry.”
“He’s alive?!”
“Alive and well, don’t yeh worry.”
“Moo-Moo!” Harry said again, indignantly.
“Hagrid, please-- Can I have Harry? Sirius is his godfather, we’ll look aft--”
“‘Can’t, I’m afraid, I’m takin’ ‘im to his aunt and uncle’s,” Hagrid said, but looked over. “Dumbledore’s orders, but, uh-- Yeh could look after ‘im, just while I fill up the bike?”
“Yes, yes-- please--” Remus knew he sounded pathetic. He knew he sounded weak, and desperate, but he was weak and desperate and pathetic, as he took Harry with shaking arms and pulled him close to his chest. “Hello Prongslet,” he said, and the nickname felt like a stab to the chest. Because Prongs wasn’t here anymore.
They sat down together on the sofa, Remus clutching Harry tight, rocking him gently. “Ma? Da?” Harry babbled along, and the ache in Remus’ chest got bigger and bigger with every sound the boy made.
“They’re still with you,” Remus said, because he didn’t know what else to say to a child with no concept of death. “They’ll always be with you Harry.”
“Woo?” Harry pointed in the direction Hagrid had left. “Woo?”
“That’s Hagrid,” Remus said gently. “He’ll take you somewhere safe, okay? And Moony and Padfoot and Wormtail will come visit you all the time, okay? You’re so, so safe.”
Harry nodded, cuddling closer to Remus’ chest. “Wuv Moo-Moo.”
“I love you too Harry.”
All too soon, the door to the cottage burst open again, as Hagrid bustled back in, wiping his eyes. “Right then, let’s get on our way Harry.”
Letting go of him was almost worse than reading that headline, as he handed Harry back to Hagrid, his little arms reaching back out for Remus, his indignant cries of Moo-Moo! Hagrid brought him close to his chest, singing a slightly off tune lullaby to soothe him as he started to cry.
As soon as Harry was out of sight, Remus slid to the floor, head in his hands, the dam finally breaking, but he didn’t cry. He felt everything coming to him at once in a sudden rush of exhaustion, the transformation finally catching up with him as he started to feel a panic attack loom over him, like the rain clouds that were brewing across the sky.
“Oh, Sirius,” Remus muttered. “What have you done?”
~~
The next morning, the Daily Prophet told him exactly what Sirius Black had done. And that night, he drank himself to sleep.
~~
Remus couldn’t stand this cottage any longer.
He couldn’t look at Sirius’ shit every day, in and out. And yet, he had no idea how he was supposed to get rid of it. How he was supposed to gut their home of all of their memories from the years they'd lived there.
He couldn’t sleep in the bed that he had slept with Sirius in every night, cuddling in the dark of the night. They hadn't even stopped when they were both suspicious of each other, because, if there was any time to pretend, it was before bed, when neither of them would remember in the morning.
He just needed to get out. He needed to leave the place frozen in time, as it was supposed to be, so he never had to look at it ever again. So he never had to remember that he had once--and perhaps still did--loved the reason his best friends were dead.
He grabbed his jumper from the shared coat hanger, flinging Sirius’ jacket into the depths of their, no, his wardrobe and apparated, willing himself to be anywhere but here.
A random street in Surrey was not where he expected to apparate to, but it wasn’t the cottage, so it was okay. He walked the length of the road, taking deep breaths and breathing in the much fresher air than what he could get in London.
The lawns were too manicured, the cars too matching. Every single person on this street owned the same model of car, which was slightly unnerving, to say the least. It was the sort of neighbourhood for people who cared all too much about what their neighbours thought about them and liked to act much richer than they actually were.
It was the exact sort of place Lily’s sister would live.
When Hagrid had told him that Harry was going to live with that toad, he’d been too frantic to process the absolute horror of those words, but not anymore. He’d promised Harry he was going to visit, and he intended to uphold that promise. It had fallen to the back of his mind, with the stress of making sure he’d have a meal the next day, making sure he could afford the mortgage, but now he was thinking about it, he could make a quick visit. He could make sure Harry had someone in his corner, someone who wasn't soiling James and Lily's reputation with every mention.
Where did they live again? Number 10 of something, that much Remus remembered from Lily’s endless rants about Petunia, about how she was refusing to even try, how she was ignoring every one of Lily’s questions about how she was doing, if she was okay, how much of a total bitch Remus found her to be.
He glanced at the street sign, hoping to all the gods he didn’t believe in that maybe, just maybe, his intuition had been right.
Privet Drive.
“Fuck,” Remus muttered, throwing his cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out, his eyes flicking across each door until he located number 10. “Oh Merlin, I’m actually doing this.”
Hands shaking, he took the few paces towards the door and knocked on it thrice. He waited. Then waited some more.
He’d almost given up hope when the door opened and Petunia Dursley opened the door. She did not look happy to see him.
“No thank you, our hedge is perfectly--”
“Please may I see Harry?” Remus asked, “I’m… A family friend.”
That wasn’t nearly a strong enough word to describe what he was. He was so much more than just a family friend. He was supposed to be the godfather of one of Harry’s younger siblings. He was Moony. He was Uncle Moony.
“A family friend?” Petunia’s face soured, her thin lips pursing together. “Why do you want to see him?”
“I just want to see how he’s doing.”
Petunia looked him up and down, eyes narrowed. “I don’t want any child living under my roof associating with your sort,” she all but spat, and then shut the door in his face. Because of course Petunia Dursley was too proper to slam the front door.
It was like a balloon had just deflated in his chest. He’d been so full of hope, so excited, so fucking excited, just to get a glimpse at Harry one last time.
He swallowed down the retorts building up in his throat, along with the lump that was slowly growing, and walked away from the house, each step weighing him down like he had lead hidden in the soles of his shoes. It made sense that she wouldn’t want him around. His sort weren’t exactly known for being safe around children, even if most of them weren’t Fenrir Greyback.
There was a children’s park not far from Harry’s new home, about a dozen children squealing as they air whipped past their faces on the roundabout, or as they fell down the slide that was shorter than Remus but, for a five year old, was as tall as Mount Everest.
In the thick of it all was the most rambunctious child Remus had ever seen, pointing his fingers at all the children and yelling instructions at them at top speed. And, on the outskirts, a skinny boy with golden brown skin, a mop of messy black hair, sticking up at the back and bold, emerald eyes.
James Potter’s face and Lily Evans’ eyes.
Harry.
Petunia didn’t want him near a werewolf. That made sense, as much as Remus hated it. And, fuck, he was so big. Four years old now. Remus forgot to keep track of the days of the week sometimes, but he’d never forgotten Harry. How could he?
Harry wouldn’t even remember him, so what would be the point of going up to him. Confusing him? Worrying him? Upsetting his aunt? Maybe he’d even get in trouble, and Remus would never forgive himself if that happened on his watch.
But… Could he ever forgive himself if he walked away without even saying hello?
Swallowing, he started to walk towards him, questioning his decision every step of the way. And then, he was standing in front of Lily and James’ son.
“Hi,” he said softly. “Want some chocolate?”
Harry’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the bar. It was muggle milk chocolate, a bit too sweet for Remus’ liking, but Harry took a big bite and smiled a wide, toothy smile. Merlin, last time Remus had seen him, he’d only had eight. They were sharp little buggers, but still, only eight. Now he had a full set. Yet another thing Remus had missed out on seeing.
“Thank you!” Harry said, and Remus nodded.
“You’re welcome,” he said, but stood up and walked off almost immediately, too scared to show Harry the tears welling in his eyes.
~~
‘Lie low at Lupin’s.’
Those four words had thrown Remus and Sirius right back to being young and dumb, twenty and so full of life, back when their biggest problem was a pan of broken soft boiled eggs. Except this time, they were a couple of broken thirty-somethings whose lives had been turned upside down and inside out so many times they were beyond recognition from who they had been not even fifteen years earlier.
They still didn’t have enough coat hangers.
“You didn’t buy any?” Sirius asked, instead of the much more obvious, Why do you still have all my stuff?
“Never needed to.” Remus didn’t add that every time he needed more hanger space (which was rare considering he could rarely afford new clothes) he would just throw something of Sirius’ into one of the boxes he’d never found it in him to take to a car boot sale.
The cottage was silent, the air thick with all the unanswered questions, unspoken thoughts and lost time in the forefront of both their minds.
Thirteen years. Thirteen years Remus had left Sirius’ jacket scrunched up in the bottom of their wardrobe. Thirteen years Remus had let himself be made to hate the one person he loved the most in the whole world.
“Want some tea?”
“Hm?” Sirius looked up from the rug he’d been staring aimlessly at. It was almost scary, watching him be so inattentive to everything. Sirius Black had a reputation for not paying attention sometimes, but that was because of whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his: a plan for his latest prank or a date or a new spell he wanted to try and create. Never just nothing.
“Tea?” Remus repeated. “I’m making myself some, do you want any?”
“Uh, sure.” Swallowing, Sirius blinked hard a few times. “Two sugars, splash of milk.”
As dark and bitter as my soul, Sirius used to say, which always got a laugh out of James, an eye roll and a smirk out of Remus and a small chuckle out of Pete Peter.
So, paler than me then? Lily would say, if she was there at the moment Sirius cracked the joke. That would usually end with something thrown in her direction.
“I know.” Remus didn’t think Sirius had caught those two, quiet words, but the look that registered on his face said otherwise. It was a painful cross between surprise, gratitude and something that could have been love. Neither of them knew if they were ready to throw that word back into circulation again.
Wordlessly, he made the tea and handed a cup to Sirius, who thanked him quietly, staring at the cup as he drank.
“These are new.”
“Gift from Nat.”
“She still lives here?”
“No.” She’d moved out eight years ago, the mugs had been a leaving gift, despite Remus' insistence that he was supposed to be giving her a gift, not the other way around. She’d always pitied him, even if she didn’t know why he was suddenly alone, but he was pretty sure that she knew that they were together, or at least had been, before everything went to shit.
“Oh.”
They fell silent again, and Remus didn’t know what he hated more: the pain he’d felt living with the knowledge that Sirius had betrayed them or the palpable awkwardness of sitting together, knowing so much yet so little about the person on the other side of the grubby sofa.
~~
Eventually, they fell into some form of ‘normal’, if their situation could be called that.
They slept in their bed once again, after a brief and tired argument about who should definitely not be on the sofa (Remus because of his furry little problem, Sirius because he’d been sleeping on the floor for over a decade), and, even though they started facing away from each other, they woke up in a tangle of limbs anyway.
Remus would wake up and make them both tea, then breakfast. Sirius would hunch over a notebook and start to write. He had never shared what he was working on, but it was taking his mind off the demons that had taken residence in his head, so Remus didn’t mind.
Sometimes, they’d talk over breakfast. Others, on the days where Sirius looked well and truly haunted, they let the radio fill the silence. Once or twice, they dug out their old records and played them, a rare but beautiful event. Sirius would hum along and, despite the scratchiness of his voice that was slowly ebbing away, his singing was still gorgeous.
Once upon a time, Sirius would hum Remus to sleep if it had been a particularly bad full moon, long fingers detangling his matted hair and taking his mind off the searing pain for just a few minutes, until he could escape into the realm of sleep for a few hours.
The months passed by slowly and, while every day was different, Remus liked to think they were making some sort of progress. He’d made peace with the fact they’d never be who they once were. But he was starting to hope that, with time, they could carve out a new ‘them’.
With time, maybe they’d manage to be a bit more than okay.
~~
“We’re out of coat hangers,” Sirius said, quietly. He mostly spoke in hushed tones, terrified someone would pass by the cottage, recognise his voice and take away the fragile peace they had carved out for themselves. Even with all the wards Remus had put up, he couldn’t find it in him to feel safe. Safety was a luxury afforded to many, but not them.
He’d found his jacket at the bottom of the wardrobe and, when he’d gone to hang it up, he found every hanger occupied, once again.
Remus looked up from the job vacancies he was scouring. “Put it on the same hanger as one of mine,” he said, and then chuckled. “Good thing we’re not making any eggs this time.”
Sirius grinned. “Now I want eggs.”
“Sure, but you’re making em. I’m not burning my poor hand again.”
“You’ve had over a decade of practice, you still can’t boil eggs without hurting yourself?”
“Nah, I prefer scrambled.”
It dawned on Remus that this was scarily close to a conversation they could have had at twenty. And then, it dawned on him again that it didn’t feel unnatural. It didn’t feel painful, it didn’t even feel strange. It felt almost, if he could dare to say it, right.
“What are we?” He blurted out, before he could stop himself.
“Huh?”
“What are we?” Remus repeated, and Sirius’ face didn’t reflect that he’d registered anything that had been said until he walked at a snail’s pace over to the sofa, each step as tentative as it possibly could have been.
“I… I don’t know.”
“We should probably talk about it.”
“Probably.”
The silence cut through the cottage, Remus cursing himself for ruining the moment that had, previously, been perfect.
“If you want to--” Sirius’ voice was barely more than a whisper, like he was unsure if he wanted Remus to hear him or not. “We could, y’know. Try again.”
“Yeah.” Remus met his eyes and smiled. “I’d like that.”
Sirius shuffled over, leant his head on Remus’ shoulder. Slowly, they entangled their hands and sat together, watching the sun set out of the window.
“We should do something tomorrow,” Sirius suggested. “Dinner.”
“A date?”
“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, a grin creeping onto his face. A year ago, this wasn’t even a possibility. “A date.”
That night, they went to bed wrapped around each other, and Remus fell asleep to the steady humming of Love Will Lead You Back.
They weren’t quite ‘there’ yet, but they would be very soon.
~~
As soon as Molly Weasley was gone, Sirius slumped in his chair, head in his hands. Remus gently placed a hand on his back, rubbing small circles into it, the most he could do with the rest of the Order there. They weren’t exactly a secret, but they also weren’t broadcasting their relationship for the whole world to see. Just in case they had a mole.
There would certainly be more to discuss once Molly got back, but, quite frankly, Remus wanted out of there, and he was sure Sirius did too, so he stood up, taking Sirius’ hand and dragging him along too.
“Thanks Moons,” he said, jaw tight, muscles taut. Together, they went upstairs, up to Sirius’ bedroom.
The first time Remus had been in there, he’d laughed out loud at the sheer insanity of it all. Sirius Gay-As-A-Maypole Black had plastered his walls with bikini clad muggle girls he’d cut out of magazines.
Sirius shot him a crooked grin, the same one he’d had back as a teenager, and winked. “It pissed off my parents.”
“I feel like that was your sole intention with this room,” Remus said, admiring the faded Gryffindor banners.
“I was very successful, permanent sticking charms and everything.”
Now, as they collapsed onto Sirius’ childhood bed, Remus took him into his arms and rubbed his shoulder blades, massaging the knots out of his muscles.
“She’s not-- I know what he needs-- She can’t just come in here-- She’s not Lily, she needs to stop acting like it-- She doesn’t-- Urgh, why can’t she just--” Sirius ranted to himself, not many of his words made sense, but Remus listened anyway. “He should be ours, Moons. We should have looked after him, not those dirtbag muggles.”
“I know,” Remus said softly, kissing Sirius’ shoulder. “I know Pads.”
Sirius rolled over, resting his head on Remus’ chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. The full was in just over a week, and Sirius was already worrying, as much as Remus tried to tell him it was fine, that he was fine. The symptoms wouldn’t even start for another few days, but that did nothing to dull Sirius’ fussing.
“Are we gonna tell Harry?”
“Tell him what?”
“Y’know,” Sirius removed his hands from around Remus’ waist to gesture into the abyss. “About us.”
Remus thought about it for a moment. “We should wait until after his trial, at least. Poor kid doesn’t need a dynamic shift in all of this. And, who knows, he might pick up on it and ask us.”
“Hermione’s almost certainly noticed.”
“Brightest witch of her age,” Remus was also certain that Miss Granger knew about him and Sirius, and he was secretly quite proud of her for working it out. She reminded him so much of Lily Evans, and if he didn’t focus on the pride, he’d focus on the pain.
“You probably should head out soon, they’ll get suspicious if you stay in here too long,” Sirius said, his voice strained. Sirius was supposed to be staying here to help with the renovations, while Remus was supposed to be staying--and working--in Wales. He’d managed to get the next few moons off with his PTO, so he’d be safe for the next few months, but he’d have to quit eventually, so he didn’t get another mark on his record. Only a few people would hire someone who got fired every few months.
Remus gave Sirius a chaste kiss goodbye before tiptoeing past the kids’ rooms and making his way to the kitchen. “I’m heading out,” he said, and was met with a chorus of ‘Have a good evenings’ and ‘Travel safes.’
With a loud crack, he appeared back in his cottage, changed into his pyjamas and then apparated back, directly into Sirius’ room.
It was almost thrilling, sneaking around. Reliving his teenage years, even if it felt a bit ridiculous now. He was thirty-five years old, for Merlin’s sake!
Sirius had shed his jacket by now, and Remus pulled his jumper off too, hanging them up together in the wardrobe. It felt unnatural to have them on different hangers, at this point.
Remus climbed into bed, wrapping himself up with Sirius.
“Night Moons.”
“Night Pads.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
~~
After losing Lily and James, Remus Lupin had thought his life could only go up from here.
Remus Lupin had never been more wrong.
“I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK, I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!” Bellatrix Lestrange’s high pitched taunts mingled with Harry’s screams and the rushing in Remus’ ears in some sort of horrible soundtrack that would be playing in the background if this was a shitty black and white film he and Sirius would laugh over together.
“He can’t come back, Harry,” he said, hopelessly, hearing his voice break as he had to fight to get the words out. He needed to stop Harry from running through that goddamn veil and killing himself too. “He can’t come back because he’s d--”
“HE-- IS-- NOT-- DEAD!” Harry insisted, as Remus dragged him away from the dais, every step like he was wading against a rushing river, trying to defy nature itself as it told him just to lie down, let the water take him. After all, there was nothing left for him here.
Partway through their journey, Harry stopped struggling, and followed Remus limply, allowing himself to be dragged along.
Neville Longbottom, legs dancing uncontrollably, came into view, but Remus barely heard anything he said. He quietly lifted the enchantment and Neville’s legs fell still. “Let-- Let’s find the others. Where are they, Neville?”
Remus turned away from the archway, refusing to look at the cursed thing one more minute. Before he had a chance to even register what Neville was saying, a loud bang rang out behind the dais, and Bellatrix Lestrange fell into view,
“Harry-- No!” Remus cried, but it was too late, Harry had ripped himself from his grip and was already running across the hall. All Remus’ attempts to yell after him fell flat and, eventually, he gave up, even if no one else did. He was tired, just so fucking tired.
He wanted Sirius’ arms around him. He wanted to see his face, hear his voice just one last time.
He’d let himself think he had time. Despite being taught that time was never a guarantee in the most painful way possible, he’d let himself think Sirius would be around forever.
And now he’d lost him.
Again.
“Professor Lupin?” Hermione said, coming up behind him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Hermione, don’t worry about me,” he lied seamlessly, taking a deep breath to calm his hammering heart. “I’ll be okay.”
He suspected that she knew he was lying, but politely said nothing.
Remus didn’t know what happened between Harry leaving and the Aurors arriving. He answered their questions, let them arrest the Death Eaters, told them everything they needed to know, except--
“What was your relation to Sirius Black?”
“Black?” He said, trying to put on a show of being nonchalant. He had no clue how successful he was, but the Aurors didn’t question him, so hopefully he’d done well. “Why?”
“We’ve been told he died tonight.”
Remus swallowed, “We knew each other in school,” he said, not a lie but most certainly not the truth. The six words grated his throat, but the Auror nodded and let him go.
He’d intended to apparate back home, but ended up in Sirius’ bedroom instead. He blinked hard, trying to make sense of the woolly memories of the last hour.
Sirius was dead.
He went to the wardrobe, grabbed their shared coat hanger and wrapped Sirius’ jacket around him, falling into bed. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine that his pillow was Sirius, that the sound of the Order getting back was James and Peter, returning to the dorm from a late night prank.
If he tried hard enough, he could imagine away the last twenty years and, in his dreams at least, he could be happy.
~~
Teddy Lupin hadn’t expected to inherit a house when he turned seventeen.
Well, he had. He knew he had his parents’ house, the one they’d lived in for their short marriage. What he hadn’t expected was that there was a second cottage, one that had apparently belonged to his father.
Harry came with him to clear it out. Just in case there was anything there he wanted to keep; if not, it was going to the charity shops before Teddy sold the place. He didn’t want to, hell, this was where his dad had lived once upon a time, but he couldn’t afford the upkeep of two houses, nor did he need them.
It wasn’t a big cottage, by any stretch of the imagination, one bedroom, one bathroom and a living room/kitchen, but it was very clearly lived in and loved, even if the smell of disuse had settled in.
His dad had moved into his mum’s house a year before Teddy was born, so no-one had lived here for eighteen years, at least. Teddy wondered briefly why his dad had never sold the place.
“So this is where they lived,” Harry said under his breath, running a hand through his greying hair, looking around.
“Who?”
“Sirius stayed with your dad, after he got out of prison,” Harry explained, frowning as he looked around. “Now, c’mon, let’s get going.”
The wardrobe was still full of clothes, but they must have been Sirius’ because, in every picture Teddy had seen, Remus wore corduroy, while Sirius wore leather.
That was, except for one coat hanger, that had both a grandad jumper and a leather jacket on, even though there were plenty of spare ones that must have once held his dad’s clothes.
The jumper was nice and soft, hand knitted probably, with a stag, dog, wolf and rat chasing each other around some of the stripes. For a moment, Teddy considered keeping it, but he had hundreds of his dad’s old clothes that he never wore. He didn’t need more.
And so, the jumper fell into the charity shop pile.
~~
Noah loved going to charity shops.
Everything in them had had a life before he bought it, and he loved coming up with stories for them. Half of his characters were made up based on something he’d bought in Cancer Research.
On this particular day, he found a hand knitted jumper, made from all shades of sage, cornflower and chocolate, intricately designed. On one of the sleeves, hand stitched in gold thread was R.J. Lupin .
If he hadn’t been planning on buying it before, that sealed the deal. Anything with a name in, books with other people’s annotations inscribed in the margins, guitars painted with the names of their owners, were his kryptonite.
As he left, he wondered who R.J. Lupin might have been. A teacher perhaps, or a scholar? Maybe he studied classics, with a Latin name like Lupin.
Caffe Nero was his next stop, the beautiful wooden furniture making it his favourite of all the chain coffee shops.
Mocha in hand, he made his way out of the shop, when taking the lid off the drink to cool it turned out to be a very bad idea.
~~
It was just Marcus’ luck that the day he finally bought a new leather jacket, (Well, new to him. It looked to be at least twenty years old but in remarkable condition and very cheap too) he got coffee spilt all down him.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” the boy who had bashed into him started to apologise frantically, putting the lid back on his coffee. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh my god, I’m so--”
“Don’t worry about it,” Marcus said, brushing the remains of the drink off the leather.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
“Nah, you’re good--” Marcus started to say, until he got a good look at his assailant. “Actually,” he said, “Could I get your number?”
The other boy blushed bashfully, but grabbed a receipt and pulled a pen from his coat pocket. “Sure,” he said. “But first.”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go for a walk, I have very high standards when it comes to my dating life.”
“Oh, yeah? And what would those be?”
“Bowie or Queen?”
Marcus scoffed. “Is that even a question? Queen.”
“No way!” The boy insisted. “Bowie is far superior and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.”
“Oh,” Marcus put on a rather exaggerated pout. “Is that my chance ruined then?”
The other boy tried--and failed--to look pensive. “Maybe I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself,” he said. “I’m Noah.”
“Marcus. And I’ll take you up on that offer of a walk, on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I take you out for dinner afterwards.”
Noah blushed again, and offered his hand for Marcus to take. “Deal.”