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Chapter Text

“Do you hear me, Sirius? Speak up.”

“Yes, Mother,” Sirius drawled, lazily draped over the chaise longue in his summer lounge, holding his glass aloft. His mother’s spiteful silhouette eclipsed the dim autumn haze, casting a severe gloom over the usually bright room. She grimaced down her nose at the withering foliage of the walled garden below and swirled a crystal glass of sherry under her nose, looking like she was swilling bile as she drank. Sirius knew that was simply her natural expression in his company.

“Sit up straight.”

“Yes, Mother.” Sirius shifted slightly, propping up on his elbow.

“That’s settled then. You will accompany Lady Cecilia to the Malfoys’ ruby anniversary.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“You will need a new suit.”

“What?” Sirius glanced up irritably, “What’s wrong with all my other suits, Mother?”

“They’re foul and unsightly,” the Black kettle said of Sirius’ pots. “We do not need people speculating that the House of Black has fallen so far that you must resort to parading around in threadbare castoffs. You are enough of a disgrace with that vulgar makeup and those garish rings you insist on wearing.”

“Mother, not a single one of my suits has so much as a hole.”

“They are inadequate and you must look your best,” Sirius, knowing what was coming next, mimed along, “You are the face of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and must present yourself as such at all times.”

Walburga caught him in her periphery, turning to narrow her eyes in a familiar threat. Sirius abruptly sat up and clamped his mouth shut, no more immune to Walburga’s intimidation than he had been as a child, even in his feigned nonchalance.

“This little party that the Malfoys are throwing is no different,” she continued, “even if it is beneath us. It will be your first public appearance since your father’s demise-”

“Grieving widows say ‘passing’, Mother.”

“Do not interrupt. It will be your first public appearance, and you must in every way uphold the name of Lord Black. Those vile upstarts may think us weak, may think it an opportunity to extend their influence, and you must disabuse them of any such notions. You will be nothing less than perfect, Sirius. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, Mother.” Having accomplished her objective, never one to prolong her time with Sirius any longer than necessary, Walburga rested her empty glass on the windowsill and turned to leave.

As she disappeared down the corridor, Sirius simply watched the light break off the empty glass and scatter about the room in splinters, standing like a vestige of his mother’s presence left to taunt him. She was almost at the door, before Sirius followed to see her safely out of his house. Or rather, his current residence, the Black family estate in Staffordshire, occupied per tradition by the family heir. By rights, Sirius should have taken over his parent’s estate once his father died, but that would mean living with his mother again. Much to Sirius’ relief, they had shared a rare moment of agreement when it was decided that he would remain in Godric Hall for the time being. Despite its dreary corridors, and the crumbling façade that was still blackened from a fire that had almost entirely destroyed it over two centuries ago, Godric Hall was a haven for Sirius. A wide expanse of neatly cropped gardens that stretched into fields of land, which in turn, stretched out into the western hills of England. Behind its black doors and the towering gate at the end of the seemingly endless driveway, Sirius had made a sanctuary of the ancient furnishings and dusty tomes that he never touched, but whose musty smell soothed him. Nothing like the suffocating cold, grey rooms of Grimmauld House, Godric Hall was the place where Sirius had first learned to breathe. Though the oppressive weight of that Noble and Most Ancient birthright still clawed at his throat with every breath, the empty shadows of Godric Hall were a shelter of respite. Or at least they would be once Walburga finally left.

Sirius sighed, running a hand unconsciously through his hair, only to wince when it was slapped away. “Sirius, you are not a beggar, keep your hands away from your face.”

“It’s my hair,” he muttered.

“What was that? Don’t mumble-”

“I said have a safe journey, Mother.” He smiled forcefully as he draped her cloak over her shoulders, using its surface to herd her over the threshold. Just as she was nearly gone Sirius, against his better judgement, stopped her. “Wait, Mother?”

“What is it, Sirius.”

“How’s Regulus?”

“Your brother is well.” She answered curtly, without an attempt at sincerity, turning her back as she left. Regulus had not spoken to him for several years before Orion’s death, and even since then, very little had passed between them. Matters had been mostly handled between Sirius, Walburga, and the litigators – quite the cosy gathering. They had seen each other at the funeral, of course, but on that day the brothers didn’t exchange a word, didn’t commiserate their shared lost, didn’t shed a tear between them. It was clear that Walburga was taking advantage of this rift to curb any negative influence Sirius might have. Watching the witch roll away behind tinted windows of importance, Sirius didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on his increasingly estranged brother any longer. Instead, he turned his thoughts to a different brother (speaking spiritually, if not legally), Lord James Potter.

~~~

James’ Royce appeared in Sirius’ driveway in under an hour, making his journey from the neighbouring county in record time. Wide grin and bottle of champagne in hand, James waltzed straight to the kitchen without waiting for proprieties. Sirius was supposed to let Minerva greet and introduce the guests, before receiving them in the drawing room or parlour, but he really didn’t see the fuss when it was only James. Of course when there was an event or an important visitor the whole retinue of household staff were employed as necessary, but Sirius preferred only a small number of servants to wait on him the rest of the time. He still depended on those few servants to a greater extent, having never learned to cook or clean for himself. Nevertheless, he liked to pretend at some semblance of solitude in his own home.

“I need a new suit.” He said without preamble, pouring them each a heavy-handed glass.

“So? What’s happened to your usual man?”

“Dead.”

“Ouch.” Sirius gave a bitter smile in response. “I’ll give you the details for my tailor. Does a cracking job and he’s not all that stuffy for someone who spends most of their time alone, in the dark, sewing.” James shuddered at the mere thought of such employment.

“You’re too kind, James.”

“Anything for my best chum, eh Black?” Sirius answered with a weak grimace, and James’ face broke into undisguised worry. “How have you been? Haven’t heard much of you since… well, you know.”

“I’m fine, James. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I was glad to hear from you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You can call anytime, you know. Doesn’t only have to be at fancy galas or once a year when your mother visits.”

“I said I’m fine, James.” Sirius pursed his lips, placing his glass a little too firmly against the table. “You can stop all that fretting. Honestly, I skipped straight to the acceptance stage of grieving. Orion’s dead and I am the new Lord Black. The bureaucracy was more of a bother than anything.”

James raised an unconvinced eyebrow, resting his free hand on his hip, while he sipped the glass in his other hand. The silence grated more than any of James’ pestering.

“I’m fine!”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’m fine,” Sirius faltered, “I just- I feel… or I don’t know, I want…”

“What do you want, Sirius?” James’ eyes filled with that open concern that Sirius trusted implicitly. Usually it took just one look into those dewy eyes and Sirius was unravelling his deepest secrets before him, but this time nothing came forth. Groaning heavily, he collapsed his head into his hands, taking only small pleasure in running his fingers all over his face against Walburga’s express wishes.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, Padfoot. I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Prongs.” Sirius downed his glass in one, before pouring them both a top up, and with a restless sigh forced out the existential despair that had become a perpetual resident of late. “So, will I see you at Malfoys’?”

“But of course, a veritable funfair for two of England’s most eligible gentry.” James grinned widely, happy to take the conversation into easier territory, no doubt intending to ease Sirius’ mind. Sirius, however, gave another groan.

“I’m being made to escort Lady Cecilia.”

“Of Mutton Hill?” James’ nose wrinkled in disgust.

“The very same.”

“Ghastly.”

“Quite.” And he drained another glass.

~~~

The next day found Sirius in a sparse village just across the Welsh border, a little further on from James’ estate in West Shropshire. It was quiet, even for rural Wales, and cloyingly picturesque with its ivy-smattered limewash stone cottages lined with hedgerows and cobbled streets. Walking into Lupin’s Sartorial, Sirius was immediately taken aback by the size of the modest atelier. He’d not been into a tailors in about a decade, since old Klaus had always made the journey to Godric Hall. But from the few memories he had of being dragged by the ear down to Savile Row as a boy, this was comparatively… quaint. It looked a little shabby if he was being honest. Granted, it seemed unlikely that there was much call for business this far from London – there was a strong chance that Lupin’s was surviving entirely off the generous patronage of the Potters – but Sirius had expected at least a semblance of luxury. The suits themselves, at least the ones on display, were of high quality, if a little bland, mostly in tweed, complete with leather elbow patches. Sirius had the distinct impression that, other than James, no one under the age of sixty had ever stepped foot in this shop. The grey carpet was well-worn, and the maroon-papered walls made the dark room feel smaller still, but there was slightly more to the shop than Sirius had allowed, as he noticed a small space at the back containing a workbench strewn with sewing machines and various other tailoring tools. The area was vastly overshadowed by towering shelves overflowing with myriad fabrics, all leading to a wood-panelled wall and the single ancient-looking door at the back. But it felt… Sirius struggled to find the word. All he could think was that, with scraps of cloth scattered over the tables, the mismatched light-fixtures, and stacks of untidily scrawled measurement charts and diagrams (some spilled onto the floor), it looked lived in. ‘Homely’, that was the word. ‘Empty’ was another word that occurred to Sirius, as the bell that had brushed against the door when Sirius entered had apparently gone ignored.

“Hello?” He called, before realising – of course – the tailor was probably some senile old crackpot. Maybe he had his hearing aid off or was indulging a quick forty winks in the back room. Striding to the back of the shop, and rapping loudly at the dark-wooded door, Sirius bellowed, “Hello? I’m here for my appointment.”

The door whipped open to a disgruntled, though not unattractive, face and Sirius found himself temporarily lost in a pair of brown eyes, as dark as the wood of the door through which they peered at him.

“There’s a bell, you know.” Said the man, who was markedly not a senile old crackpot, if his face was anything to go by. He had a few grey flecks of stubble, and his worn expression seemed to age him, but all things considered he could hardly have been older than Sirius. Exhaling a quiet sigh, the mild annoyance gave way to a warmer expression as the young tailor relaxed into what was obviously his customer-friendly façade. Without the lines of irritation, his face was open, his smile easy and bright. Sirius noted now that his mahogany eyes had a playful glint that might intrigue a more impressionable clientele. Not Sirius, of course. “I’ll be right with you. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

And to Sirius’ dismay the man winked, before shutting the door in his face, leaving Sirius to find his own way to the sheltered dressing area. Not that it was difficult to locate. A small platform swarmed by dress stands and stools was barely shielded from the front of the shop by an elaborately carved wooden partition, each of its segments inlaid with a musty full-length mirror. Flinging his jacket over the nearest stool, Sirius felt the urgent need to inspect himself, straightening up his shirt, fiddling with the top button, wondering whether he should leave it undone. He was feeling a little uncomfortable at arriving so underdressed. He had hardly expected to run into anybody at a tailor shop in this remote village and hadn’t much bothered to think about his usual finery and make up, donning his most worn and comfortable grey suit. As for the tailor, well he had been expecting someone not dissimilar to old Klaus, perhaps a decade or two younger, certainly not Sirius’ age. And certainly not with that face.

As a rule, Sirius didn’t pay attention to the people who dressed him. They were insignificant. Tools to measure, make and mend clothes. He paid them well, and treated them politely, of course. But they were pedestrians in the highway that was his life. That was why he was startled when he glanced the appreciative flicker of brown eyes in the mirror’s reflection. No, the way those brown eyes roamed over his body was more than appreciative. They looked hungry. It wasn’t that he minded, nor was he necessarily disinterested – even Sirius appreciated a warm body now and then – but it did seem a tad unprofessional, not to mention presumptuous. Arching an imperious eyebrow, Sirius gave a light cough, training his gaze on those brown eyes in the mirror. The eyes met his and the tailor blushed at having been caught. But rather than being mortified and blustering in profuse apologies (that Sirius would graciously dismiss), he returned a genial grin and clapped his hands together, approaching with his tape measure. Sirius only then noticed the delicate fit of the tailor’s neat blue waistcoat. Even with the striped shirt underneath, Sirius caught himself appreciating the man’s figure. It seemed not to go unnoticed, and a playful smirk danced over the man’s face as he began running the tape along Sirius’ body.

“Apologies, Mr Black-”

“Lord.”

“Sorry?”

“My title. I have a title and it’s not ‘mister’.” Sirius corrected haughtily, doing his utmost to put this servant back in his place, and simultaneously remind himself of his superior station.

“Oh I do apologise, my most honourable liege.” The tailor bit back a smile and gave the slightest of bows with a flourish of his hand – the man was mocking him! “I hope you will forgive my impropriety, but I so rarely get to work with such fine models as yourself. As you see, my usual are rather lifeless in comparison.” He chuckled, the subtle hint of a lilting accent behind his words, as he indicated the headless mannequins, and another wink followed. For the first time in his life, Sirius Black was completely unsure what to expect.

“I’m Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin. No titles necessary.” Despite himself, Sirius snorted and Lupin chewed the corner of his smirk as his eyes remained focused on his work, running quick, skilful fingers over Sirius so that he could barely keep up with what was happening. Sirius decided he needn’t entertain any conversation and allowed Remus to continue his work in silence. Rather than being made uncomfortable by the lack of response, the man seemed happy to continue working around Sirius like he was the prop, nudging arms and legs whenever he needed Sirius to adjust his position, using light, gentle touches that put Sirius at ease. Sirius fell into watching the man, who despite his lack of professional manner, seemed unexpectedly competent. He wore a continuous smile as he worked, but his intense focus was betrayed by the furrow in his eyebrows, undeterred by the honey-brown swathe of hair that fell over his eyes. He kept dragging his bottom lip in with his teeth, the tip of his tongue occasionally popping out at the corner when he stepped back to survey his progress or scribble a new measurement on the clipboard he kept balanced precariously on the shoulder of a dress stand. Tucking his pencil behind his ear, he stepped back and beamed at Sirius, all focus replaced in an instant by that warm smile.

“So, what do you want?” Sirius blinked, blank at the expectant brown eyes in front of him. The question hovered between them. What he wanted… what he wanted… what did Sirius want?

“Pardon me?”

“I was told you needed a new suit?” Remus prompted, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Right, yes,” Sirius cleared his throat in a way that he hoped made him seem more commanding than he felt at that moment. Sirius took a moment to ignore Remus – let him wait – and stared himself down in the mirror. It felt unreal, the reflection staring back at him, like there was another Sirius caught in the frame, a Sirius living in the might-have-been of a life that never happened, trapped under glass. Sirius felt a strong urge to break it and when he stared into grey eyes, he didn’t recognise anything he saw swimming in those depths: Not his under-dressed body, free of its satin and lace. Not his face lacking the usual depth of light and shadows he applied heavily whenever he went out in public. Not his exposed fingers, lying useless at his side, only his signet dangling solitary on his little finger. He didn’t recognise this person without all the usual trappings that his socialite lifestyle demanded. He wanted to dress it all up, smother it all in silk and ermine and rubies until nothing was left exposed.

“Lord Black?” an uncertain voice interrupted his thoughts, and Sirius came back into focus catching only the flicker of wrought emotion in his reflection before his stately mask fell back into place.

“Yes, a suit.” Sirius remarked as if there had been no pause, still addressing himself in the mirror. “I expect your finest materials, of course. But I want something more.”

“A three-piece, then. Will you be requiring new shirts as well?”

“Yes, two shirts- no, make it four. But the suit – make it… something.”

“Would you like to be less specific?” Remus scoffed and Sirius’ gaze snapped over to him, satisfied when he seemed to shrink back a little. At last. After all, that was how they were supposed to react; you didn’t ask for respect, you commanded fear – as Mother always said. “Sorry, er, I mean, um, it just doesn’t give me a lot to go on. Do you, um, could you elaborate… please?”

“Were you educated on a farm?” Sirius spouted a flawless imitation of his mother, having spent many years mimicking her until James wheezed with laughter. It came in useful at other times, such as when he needed to invoke his mother’s bearing and assert his own authority. Remus gave a slow shake of his head, clearly bewildered by the question. “Then enough of that ‘um’-ing and ‘er’-ing. You are a human, possessed of human language, are you not?”

“Yes, Lord Black.” Remus mumbled sounding sheepish, if a little taken aback. Something of his earlier mischief had vanished from those brown eyes and Sirius felt an ember of disappointment followed by the creeping guilt that usually followed when he had made a mistake. But no, this was exactly how he should conduct himself in public. This was exactly the impression he should make upon someone whose job it was to serve him. And then, in an overly polite manner that Sirius suspected was a further attempt at mocking him, Remus asked, “May I ask what it’s for?”

“What?”

“The occasion, for your suit.”

“Oh, an anniversary party. Just another dreary public event.” he groaned before he could stop himself, and then steeled himself back into a haughty posture. “Look, this is your expertise; I don’t expect to have to instruct you in your own trade. Just make it special.” Leaning heavily on the last word, something trembled in Sirius’ chest when he saw Remus give the lightest shudder, brown eyes locked on his, before the tailor’s lips curved into a wicked grin entirely too much like he was plotting something.

“Yes, Lord Black.” Then Remus rolled his shirt up to his elbows as he brought over a variety of fabrics and Sirius couldn’t help swallowing as he watched those sinuous forearms move, nimble fingers flicking seamlessly through reams of material. Sirius felt his mouth go dry as Remus brought a thumb up to his lips and gave a soft lick, using the moistened digit to separate a clump of swatches. He thumbed through each one and occasionally held them up against Sirius to check the colours against his tone. Sirius was unsettled for the remainder of the consultation, almost seeing the mischievous cogs whirring behind Remus’ melting gaze. Luckily Remus didn’t seem to notice, each time glancing at Sirius for approval at his choice, each one met with a terse shake of his head. To his own amusement, Sirius noticed that Remus was becoming increasingly agitated at each refusal, despite his earlier smugness. Of course, Sirius kept his stoic expression the entire time, sucking his cheeks between his teeth to stop himself from smirking when he heard the loud huff, as Remus brought over yet another collection of samples. Thinking that he had better end his fun soon, Sirius caught a glimpse of a smooth, dark satin-like material. At first glance it looked black, but under the overhead spotlight, Sirius caught a glimmer of purple.

“Wait.” He ordered. Remus looked up in surprise, clearly not expecting Sirius actually intended to help. “Show me that one. No, the one before.”

Something soft flickered over Remus’ expression as he very briefly seemed to stroke the fabric that Sirius had selected, before holding it up against Sirius. They both stared at the fabric in the mirror, wordless admiration on parted lips.

“Yes, that will do.” Sirius nodded, gathering up his suit jacket in preparation to leave. He must have imagined the trace of disappointment in Remus’ eyes as he did so.

“An excellent choice, Lord Black.” Remus nodded, obsequious in a way that made Sirius’ skin crawl. He hated it, would rather a scoff, or anything else. And yet Remus’ face betrayed something different, as if attempting to goad Sirius into a challenge, as if to force his hand into admitting that he secretly despised all the pomp and circumstance, as if to trick him into giving this nobody the upper hand. Instead, Sirius just answered with his usual sneer, somewhat pleased by the flicker of disappointment in Remus’ reaction.

“If it please you, Lord Black,” the sugared tone of his overly-subservient words continued, and Sirius was now certain he was being teased. “I have an idea of some complimentary fabrics for the inlay and trim. I will need to order in especially though, so if you would like to return in a week or so when they are available to approve..?”

“No, do as you like.” Sirius replied snippily, unwilling to humour the charade any longer.

“Very well. Would you like me to run the costs now, then? It will only take a moment if you’ll-”

“That won’t be necessary. Just send the bill to my estate when it’s ready.”

“But-”

“Mr Lupin, I assure you,” Sirius arched, locking onto Remus with as much coldness as he could convey, “whatever the cost, I will pay it. Just make it a good suit. I trust you can do that much?” Sirius thrilled as he watched Remus’ throat bob with an audible swallow, and then caught Remus’ wide eyes with a smirk.

“I will do my best, Lord Black.” Remus raised a challenging eyebrow, though his cheeks were now a warmer hue.

“Good. I take it my staff gave you the number for any other arrangements?”

“Yes, Lord Black.”

“Then call me when it’s ready.”

“There will need to be fittings before the final suit is complete.”

“Very well. I will see you then.” And without waiting for a response, Sirius stalked out, feeling Remus’ eyes follow him even through the shop window. Sirius, for his part, only now realised that his heart had been racing as it begun to slow to normal pace. He felt his cheeks flush as he chastised himself for allowing himself to be so affected by a simple country tailor.

~~~

“How was it then?” James' dulcet croon floated from the speakers after their previous conversation had died back down to companionable silence.

“How was what?” Sirius replied flatly, flicking through the muted channels on his television from where he lay sidelong on the bed, the phone perched between his chin and chest, its cord running up to the wall behind his headboard.

“The tailors. Lupin.” Sirius froze, the remains of three-day-old guilt crawling back into his throat. After a beat of silence, James prompted, “Well, how was it?”

“Oh yeah, fine. He’s… fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yep.”

“Is that all? His family have been doing suits for my family for centuries. He’s a brilliant tailor, I reckon.”

“Well I haven’t actually seen the suit yet, so maybe I’ll have a more glowing review once it’s done.” Sirius snapped with a bit too much bite.

“Oh, ok then.” James fell silent, apparently unbothered by the harshness of Sirius’ reply.

“Centuries, huh? Guess the current one’s been doing it since he was a kid or something?” Sirius asked – for the sake of making conversation, of course.

“Oh. No, not exactly.” Sirius stayed quiet, waiting for James to elaborate. “He was actually some sort of prodigy, got sent on scholarship to this fancy school – actually think we played against them at rugby a few times – even got into Oxford. But something happened with his dad and he had to come back home. I think my dad knew, but he never really mentioned it and I’ve not wanted to ask Remus. Friendly chap, but it’s only been a bit of small talk the few times I’ve been in person. Something to do with all those scars, though.”

“Scars?”

“Um, yeah? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.” Sirius frowned and thought back, but all his mind would conjure was the enticing shadow of deep mahogany eyes, and a bitten back smirk.

“No I didn’t bloody notice, James.” Sirius replied with a huff of frustration, “Don’t spend a lot of time gawking at the help, actually.”

“‘The help’? Really, Padfoot?” Once again, Sirius didn’t dignify that with an answer, though it gnawed at him like James knew it would. There was a sigh, and then, “Alright, Lord Black. Nevermind then. Anyway, so yeah he took up tailoring when he was eighteen and I guess he got pretty good.”

“Do you know what he was planning on studying at university?”

“Oh, suddenly taking an interest in ‘the help’, are we?”

“Not at all, just… you know what, nevermind. Oh look, news is on, must dash.”

“Sirius-”

“Night, Prongs.” Sirius clipped the phone back into its receiver before James could respond. He turned the volume up a notch, but it was little more than a background hum as Sirius’ mind raced. Oxford. Fine, so perhaps he was being a little prejudiced, but Sirius hadn’t expected that. Sirius had attended Cambridge, of course, as every Black had for centuries whether it was merited or not. And James had mentioned playing against Remus’ school. Sirius had not been on the team, and he got the impression that Remus wasn’t the type either. It wasn’t exactly like their paths had ever crossed, but then again James seems to have known Remus, or at least Remus’ father, most of his life. Sirius was starting to feel a bit indignant actually; why hadn’t he heard about this Remus before? Not that he cared of course, but the Potters and Lupins were obviously familiar enough.

Sirius took a swig from the whiskey that had been left warming on the bedside during his call with James and grimaced. Carelessly letting the glass fall from his grip in the general proximity of where he thought the table was, the glass instead caught the edge, and spilled back onto his bed. Sirius rolled onto his front and watched with disinterest as the liquid pooled before absorbing into the covers. Remus Lupin. Lupin. Lupin, Remus.

An odd fellow with an odd name and an odd life. Nothing for Sirius to concern himself with. Not when he had… well, everything. That’s right, Sirius had everything going for him, and everything to look forward to. As he nuzzled into his mauve, thousand-thread count sheets, luxuriating in the satin briefs and merino socks he’d worn to bed, Sirius found it easy to ignore the hollow pang in his chest and drifted off in a swirling mahogany haze of whiskey fumes and silk.

Chapter Text

Sirius clutched his hands together in their fur-lined cashmere gloves, crimson complimenting his russet-tipped winter boots and mohair coat. He wouldn’t make the mistake of being underdressed this time, Sirius had decided before stepping out into the dimming winter afternoon. It was mild for November, and Sirius was near-impervious to cold weather at its worst. But the memory of mahogany eyes and a bitten grin floated in the front of his mind, and Sirius shivered, gathering his coat tightly around him in the back seat of his saloon.

“Lupin’s Sartorial, Frank.” Sirius stated, already turning his attention to the horizon gliding by as the saloon pulled away down the drive and out of the towering wrought iron gates at the end of his estate. He ignored the reply of affirmation, and his eyes sank shut, finding the view behind his eyelids far more enticing than the drowsy overcast of winter. It was a long drive, beyond James’ and over the border. Far for a suit, but James had convinced him it would be worth it. After the first visit, Sirius hadn’t needed any convincing to return for the brief fitting with the cut pieces of material. The fit had been almost perfect, just a tuck here and there which Remus had silently noted by pinning a needle and dashing a line of chalk. That visit had been almost without incident, but Remus had gone back to his mischievous self, smirking the whole time like he knew something Sirius didn’t. This time, though, Sirius would not allow himself to be flustered by that honeyed gaze. His jaw clenched in determination, and he opened his eyes to rolling Welsh hills, frozen fields shimmering under the glance of the dwindling evening light.

From the dark of the frost-bitten pavement, Lupin’s Sartorial glowed like a solitary candle among the empty-shop fronts which had closed for the evening. Allowing the winter chill to cool his cheeks, Sirius tried to tamp his pulse already racing in something like nerves, or excitement. He lingered for a moment, watching the silent figure in the window. Remus was standing with his neck bent down, apparently reading through some sort of ledger on the front desk as his hair flopped in front of his eyes, thankfully too focused to notice his spectator. Sharpening his resolve once more and trying not to melt at the warmth exuding from that quaint little atelier, Sirius forced himself to push through the door, immediately thawed by the cosy interior. Remus looked up with a broad smile when the bell above the door chimed.

“Lord Black. Perfect timing.” Sirius nodded a mute response, suddenly finding he couldn’t remember any of the snide remarks he had planned. “May I take your coat, you’re lovely.”

The words came tumbling out of Remus’ mouth and Sirius stopped stock still, shocked. Seeing a light blush appear on Remus’ aghast expression, he could tell he wasn’t the only one.

“Your coat,” Remus corrected with a hasty clearing of his throat, frantically looking around to avoid Sirius’ gaze as he came over to greet him at the entrance, where Sirius was still rooted to the spot. “Your coat is lovely. Erm, very nice fabric. Was it custom-made?”

At Remus’ fumbling, Sirius recovered himself and he let out a derisive snort at the tailor’s feeble attempt to appear overly interested in the material, as he handed over his coat for Remus to hang up, before jaunting over to the dressing area. Remus took a little time before he came over bearing a collection of hangers draped in covers.

“Yes. In fact, I had the material imported specially. My last tailor put it together for me.” Sirius couldn’t help the slight fondness in his voice.

“Oh. Well he did a wonderful job,” something twinged in Remus’ voice, and it wasn’t until he continued speaking that Sirius realised it was jealousy. “Why did you decide to change?”

“Ah, well. He was rather old, you see. He passed away last May.” Sirius affected a hint of tragedy in his tone, meanwhile beginning to unbutton his best silk shirt.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, that’s awful… sorry, I mean- I had no idea.” Came Remus’ wide-eyed response, once again seeming to panic at having put his foot in it. Sirius, whose nerves had been frayed in a simmering wreck for the past month since he had first met the tailor, was enjoying this look on Remus’ usually smug face. Not that he would admit it, but it did also put him at ease. A little. Those fracturing bolts of nervous energy that exposed the cracks in his usually cold exterior were still fizzing beneath his veins. Still, he allowed Remus’ floundering to continue as he undressed, smirking when he saw Remus’ eyes follow his shirt to the floor.

“I just mean…” Remus, so caught up in his own clumsiness, had forgotten to return behind the partition to allow Sirius to change and still hadn’t noticed – apparently preoccupied with the sight in front of him. As he trailed off, his eyes flitted up Sirius’ bare chest, rising in slow appreciation until they finally reached his eyes. Remus blushed deliciously at being caught, but brushed past the unspoken exchange, turning his back to Sirius to fiddle with the clothes hanging in their protective covers.

“Well he was very old.” Sirius continued, as if he hadn’t just been ogled, “It was bound to happen eventually.” There was no attempt to disguise the apathy in his voice. Old people died, some not so old. Orion hadn’t ever reached sixty. Most people found it uncomfortable to discuss, but Sirius had never felt affected by the thought of death, and why should Sirius go through any pains to make others comfortable? Remus, however, didn’t respond with the usual shock, disgust, or judgement at Sirius’ cavalier attitude.

“Well, then, I’m sorry for your loss.” He simply continued solemnly. Then, to Sirius’ amazement, Remus’ lips curved into a smirk, as he opened the zip beneath his hands - in a way that should certainly not have been seductive - to reveal a starched white shirt. With a little devilish glint, as he caught Sirius’ eyes once again in the mirror, he muttered, “my gain, though.”

Sirius felt his face warm, even as Remus drew back, handing him the shirt and finally stepping around the partition to allow his privacy. Sirius, still flustered, fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, cursing quietly to himself as it took several long moments to get his fingers to do what they were supposed to. After a while, no doubt expecting Sirius to have long finished dressing himself, Remus popped a concerned head round the partition. His face split into a gleeful smirk when he saw Sirius still struggling with the top button.

“Need a hand?” He sauntered back in front of Sirius.

“I’m quite capable of dressing myself, thank you.” Came Sirius’ clipped response, despite the fact that he was now on his third attempt. Remus, impudent as ever, batted his treacherous hands away, and leaned in close, eyes lowered in concentration as he did up the top button of Sirius’ shirt, taking the time to straighten his collar as well. Sirius felt himself blush deeper with every passing second. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until Remus’ eyes met his with a gentle smile, and he finally breathed out. Neither of them moved for a moment, but eventually Sirius forced himself to tear away from those deep brown eyes and clear his throat. With a softer yet still smug smile, Remus stepped back allowing Sirius to pull on his new waistcoat before Remus draped the jacket over his arms. Finally, all pieces in place, Remus stepped back to take in the full effect of his work, and Sirius allowed his eyes to drift towards the mirror.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sirius’ eyes traced over his own body in sheer admiration. He was aware how gorgeous he was, never one to shy away from his own vanity, but this was something else. In truth, Sirius didn’t know what he had expected when he requested something ‘special’. At the time, all he remembered was thinking more. More fabric, more embellishment, more glamour. More anything to disguise whatever had been exposed that had made him desperate to hide under layers of cotton and silk. He needed to make a statement. He was in control. He commanded every room he walked into, and no one would glimpse anything else. He needed a suit that said that.

And boy, had Remus delivered.

It was a simple white shirt, nothing extraordinary, but it was crisp under the waistcoat, which had been cut from a light silvery-blue linen to match Sirius’ eyes. The trousers were snug but not tight, highlighting – in Sirius’ opinion – his best feature. And the jacket- oh that was something - made from the glossy purplish-black fabric that Sirius had selected. A deeper black material had been threaded into the collar and lined the pockets, peeking over the top to form a neat trim. The whole suit seemed to glide over Sirius’ slender figure, meeting in the middle of Sirius’ torso with a single button. But more than the way the smooth material seemed to flatter Sirius’ body in all the right ways, he was enamoured with the embellishments Remus had added.

Sewn into the fabric of the jacket, tiny silver beads in swirling patterns that were barely noticeable but gave the appearance of smoke trailing over his body when they caught the light. Turning around, he saw pinned underneath the left side of his jacket collar a small cascading cape that connected to his right side at his waist, hemmed with more of the tiny beads so that it shimmered as he turned. Sirius was breath-taking. So absorbed in his own reflection, he didn’t notice Remus’ own gaze darken into something sinful, nor the tongue that swiped over his bottom lip as he traced over his creation. Sirius, of course, had not lost his stony expression and was perfectly surprised when his eyes met Remus’.

“You look…” Remus breathed, and for a moment they held each other’s gaze. Remus’ stare sparked danger and Sirius couldn’t help the shudder that struck his spine. Then Remus cleared his throat and the moment passed, as he awkwardly averted his attention into that clinical detachment of a craftsman scrutinising his own work. “I mean, it seems to fit you well. Erm, is it comfortable and everything? Not too tight, or do you need me to take it in at all?”

“Yes… I mean, no. It’s fine.” Sirius cleared his throat but his voice still emerged husky as he spoke, “It’s- this is perfect. Thank you, Remus.”

“Thank god.” Remus gave out a relieved chuckle, as though he couldn’t see how well it fitted. Sirius noticed that his face was still a little pink, as he went about tidying up the hangers that had been strewn carelessly as Sirius had dressed. “Oh wait. One final touch.”

And before Sirius could react, Remus was in front of him again, sliding a dark purple pocket-square into the seam of his left breast pocket. His hand lingered on Sirius’ lapel, and Sirius found himself uncomfortably warm under the heat of those intense brown eyes. There was a longer pause, and Sirius could feel himself fighting to do something stupid. He hadn’t noticed he was staring at Remus’ lips until another soft chuckle slipped between them. Something bitter dappled the warm hues of Remus’ voice as he turned away to speak.

“Sorry, I know the scars are a bit much.” Remus said, back to shuffling around. Sirius blinked himself out of his confusion, and it was only then he remembered the conversation he’d had with James nearly a month ago after his first visit. He looked at Remus’ face in the mirror and finally noticed the light trails of raised flesh over his face and, standing out among them, a deep scar that ran from the bottom of his left ear, over the corner of his lips, to his chin. They were not subtle, and Sirius couldn’t fathom how he’d failed to notice, until he found himself getting lost in dark brown eyes all over again. He was brought back when Remus continued speaking, “Most people want to know what happened.”

“I- uh…”

“If you want to know, I suppose I could tell you.” Remus spoke invitingly. Sirius just watched, helpless as Remus leaned towards him in a playful whisper. “I was attacked by a werewolf.”

For a moment, Sirius tried to wrap his head around this fact, until Remus barked a warm laugh, without a lingering trace of its earlier bitterness.

“Your face… you don’t actually believe in werewolves, do you?” he teased.

Sirius found himself laughing despite himself, even as he affected an air of petulant annoyance. “Well, I don’t know, do I? Suppose you could have anything out in this wilderness.”

“You mean Wales?” Remus raised an eyebrow, his lilting accent a little more pronounced than usual, as if asserting his national pride against the other’s aspersions. With a villainous wink, he once again disappeared to the other side of the partition, leaving Sirius aching to slap that smug expression off his face – or find some other way entirely to wipe it off… Shaking himself back into a scowl, Sirius disrobed without ceremony, only slowing briefly to hang the new suit back cautiously on its hangers, before he hurriedly threw his old clothes on, though they now seemed inadequate.

“I suppose the account’s already been settled?” Sirius chose to ignore the creeping edge of insufficiency as he returned to the front of the shop, where Remus was once again flicking absently through his ledgers and receipts.

“Your housekeeper was kind enough to wire the payment this morning.” Remus, still smiling, accompanied Sirius to his coat, draping it over him, though Sirius was disappointed to find that it no longer felt as comfortable after trying on Remus’ suit. “Thank you, Lord Black.”

“Sirius.” He said, as he turned to face Remus again, keeping enough distance to avoid any further temptation.

“Excuse me?”

“You may call me Sirius.”

“Do I take it this means I may look forward to your patronage again in future?” Sirius tried to convince himself that the hopeful look in Remus’ eyes was something else.

“Should I need another suit, I know where to find you.”

“Excellent. Although, I must say, I think I prefer Lord Black.”

“Lord Black was my father.” Sirius frowned, looking down as he once again revealed more than he intended to this common tailor.

“Well, then, Sirius.” Remus ducked his head to catch Sirius’ eye with another warm smile, “Until next time…”

“Yes, next time.” Sirius replied, still facing Remus. They stood there for a moment, Sirius puzzling at the expectant expression on Remus’ face, until he realised he was meant to be leaving. “Right, bye then.”

A chuckle chased him out the door, warming him against the harsh lashes of the cold night air.

~~~

The lead up to the Malfoy’s was worse than Sirius had expected. He was filled with a dread that had emerged several days before and refused to leave since. ‘Mourning’ his father had given Sirius a fair excuse for the last few months of social occasions, and he had been happy to wallow in the dark corridors of Godric Hall, undisturbed save for his staff and the occasional visit from James or his mother. Now he was about to be launched full-speed back into the dizzying throng of the British nobility and all its trappings. No easing in, no gentle reintroduction; Everyone who was anyone would be at the Malfoys’ ruby wedding anniversary, save the royal family themselves. Luckily, this also included James, and their friend Lady Dorcas, though he had been unable to wriggle out of his mother’s plans to accompany Lady Cecelia.

This was how he found himself in the back of a car, already tipsy from a bottle of red wine he had downed on the way to Buckinghamshire, and grimacing at the creases that would be forming in Remus’ lovely jacket, as he waited restless and irritable for the Lady to deign to join him. Yes, perhaps in proper society, he was expected to make the journey to the front door, kiss her hand, and allow himself to be entertained for a half hour in the parlour before escorting the Lady to the car himself. But Sirius had never claimed to be proper, and if Cecelia didn’t want to be unfashionably late, she would have to get over herself and follow Frank (who he’d sent to announce their arrival) back to the car. Sirius Black was nothing if not stubborn. He would wait all night if he had to. Missing the party would simply be an added bonus, nevermind Walburga’s inevitable fury.

At length, a red-faced demon could be seen storming over in furious disdain, her gaudy pink dress gathered in fury-clenched fists, while flaxen curls flounced against their tight bounds where they had been tied in furious knots over her head. Sirius tried very hard not to snicker as her heel caught on a crack in the driveway, causing her to wobble but not quite fall. Well, at least he thought about trying, and then greeted Cecelia with an easy grin when she yanked open the car door, not bothering to wait for Frank.

“My dear Lady, you look absolutely divine.” He lavished sweet syrup over his words. She just glared, refusing to sit as she took in his smoky eyes, countless rings, dangling silver earrings (which of course matched his waistcoat), and a long mock-crucifix dangling below his chest – one had to squint very closely to spot that it was in fact something a little less tasteful. Cecelia appeared too blind with fury to notice any such details.

“Sirius Black. I might have guessed you would pull some stunt like this, you complete arse.”

“Always a pleasure, Lady Cecelia.”

“I have been waiting for thirty minutes for you to grace us with your company. I swear to god, when my mother hears about this-” oh that caught Sirius’ attention. Lady Cecelia’s mother was in the same bridge parlour society as Walburga, and this getting back to her would most certainly make Sirius’ life more unbearable than it already was.

“Come now, Cece, don’t be rash.” He edged forward with as charming a smile as he could muster, offering his open palm, in which she grudgingly placed her own, and he drew her gloved fingers to his lips with a cocky wink. “I’m surprised my driver didn’t mention that I have recently injured my ankle and was unable to make the trek, though I would have been most honoured to receive your welcome, I’m sure. I will have to have a word with him, making you think up all manner of grievances when a simple explanation would have sufficed.”

Cecelia seemed to deflate at his slick words, but still cast a doubtful glare over him.

“And what exactly have you come as?” She glowered, in particular at his burgundy lipstick, which now stained the back of her glove.

“Oh, well if you’re ashamed to be seen with me, perhaps we should arrive in separate cars? I’ll even keep ten feet away from you at all times during the party, lest anyone make the mistake of associating us together, if it will make you happy?” He really did try to disguise the hope in his voice.

“The arrangement was that you would escort me to this event, Lord Black. So you shall.” Ah, so this was Cecelia’s doing then, Sirius concluded. He could never be sure if his meddling mother was pulling all the strings, or if others were racking up favours. It seemed that this was by special request of Lady Cecelia Greengrass, no doubt a request that his mother was too happy to oblige – anything to obscure Sirius’ unwanted proclivities from becoming publicly known. Although, Sirius would be surprised if his mother hadn’t first made them sign over their firstborn, never one to tip her hand or sell her prize cow for less than his worth.

“And what was the agreed upon price for this little arrangement.” Sirius’ lip curled with disdain as Cecelia finally sat down beside him, turning pink at his words, and the door closed behind her.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to, Lord Black.”

“Pity.” Sirius sneered as the car began to roll away, “I do so like to keep up on the going rate for my assets. Make sure I’m investing shrewdly, and whatnot.”

Cecelia didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, not being the wittiest of partners he’d ever had, so Sirius rolled his eyes and turned to gaze out the window, praying it would be a short drive.

~~~

As it turned out, the drive was long and painful, and not in the way he enjoyed. Particularly since Sirius, getting bored barely ten minutes in, had decided to goad Cecelia into a fight that had them nearly tearing at each other’s throats by the time they pulled up to Elsbury Manor and Frank had to gently cough to break up the screaming and let them know they had arrived. With matching sour expressions, Sirius had done the gentlemanly thing and helped Cecelia out of the car, only to let go of her hand midway so that she stumbled. Glaring, she uncrumpled the ruffles of her dress. Sirius paid no notice, feeling the dread wash over him anew as he took in the sharp peaks of the manor towering above him against the frigid night sky. The moon was clouded over, washing the ominous building in an eerie glow, the light from the windows appearing to Sirius like taunting eyes of a giant waiting to devour its supper. Sirius’ skin crawled with the sinister sense of foreboding, all thoughts of the stuffy prig next to him completely vanished. He absently held out his arm, wincing slightly when he felt talon-like fingers dig into his elbow. Once again reminded of his lacy fetter for the evening, he glared as Cecelia attempted to flatten down her hair, which had come loose at some point during their row.

“Shall we?” Sirius sighed, already too tired.

“Lead the way, Lord Black.”

Lady Cecelia was further disgruntled when, as they descended the steps into the Malfoys’ ballroom, all eyes were trained on her partner. Cutting an imposing figure, as he floated down the stairs all elegance and grace (any trace of his alleged ankle injury well-forgotten), he was a shimmering cloud of grey smoke descending upon the party of spectators. Sirius, for his part, puffed out his chest, and donned his haughtiest sneer, refusing to make eye contact with any of his admirers, knowing that he was above them all. All these nameless faces staring brazenly at him, men and women alike, and all Sirius felt was a swell of pride that Remus’ suit had done its job. And then, unbidden, the thought that he couldn’t wait to let Remus know flitted across his mind. The ripple of music and vapid wafts of conversation hit him in a wave as he descended the last steps and he was snapped out of his thoughts back to the reality brimming with taffeta and cummerbunds, high ceilings and screeching strings. Undoing a further button of his shirt so that the opening was now nearly as low as his waistcoat, Sirius grimaced and carefully avoided eye contact with any familiar faces. So far he’d spotted no family members but had not been able to catch a glimpse of James’ nest of hair either.

Apparently immune to Cecelia glaring holes in his head while impatiently waiting for him to introduce her around, he dropped her arm and head straight for the bar. Within minutes of the whiskey hitting his lips, he felt his body relax and turned back to the crowd, only to see that Geoffrey Goyle had cornered Cecelia into a conversation, the greasy git. Half-tempted to rescue her, even at risk to himself, Sirius was relieved at least to see that Lady Alecto Carrow had taken pity and was introducing her around, as Sirius should have. He supposed he should attempt to grease some palms, but really even making an appearance had taken most of his willpower. Let Cecelia make excuses for him, if she so desperately wanted to be the future Lady Black. He might as well give her a taste of what she had to look forward to.

“Lord Black.” Came a low, sneering voice behind Sirius, and he tensed. Only to turn around and realise it was James doing his best impression of a bell-end.

“Prick.” Sirius responded, his heart not really in it.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey sour.”

“Of course,” and turning to the bartender, James commanded, “two more, my fine fellow, and put it on my tab.” He received a look of scorn barely disguised by the bartender’s smile of terse compliance.

“It’s an open bar, Prongs.”

“Well excuse me for trying to do something nice for my friend.” James paused for a minute, before giving Sirius a once-over. Voice dripping with admiration, he added, “Especially when said friend looks so utterly delicious. I take it you were satisfied with Lupin’s work?” Sirius pointedly ignored the question.

“Keep it in your pants, Potter. I’ve already got a date, remember?”

“Ah yes, where is the lovely Lady C-section.”

“C-section, James?”

“You know, because she’s about as much fun as childbirth.”

“And how would you know?”

“Mum told me.”

“Gross.”

“Oh grow up, Sirius. We’ve all got one.”

“Well I certainly don’t.”

James grinned wickedly, “Just think, Walburga Black on her back, howling-”

“Oi, shut your mouth-”

“Your frizzy black mane peeking out of her-”

“James Potter if you don’t stop talking this second, I will shove you all the way back up your mother’s-”

“Dignified as ever, Sirius.” Came a snide voice behind his shoulder that Sirius didn’t need two guesses to put a name to.

“Reggie?” He whipped around, seeing his brother for the first time in months. Regulus seemed almost completely restrained by his suit, entirely black of course, no doubt their mother’s doing, with his hair forced flat against his skull, all waves slicked down with wax and product – just the way Sirius knew he hated.

“Don’t call me that,” came the sharp reply.

“Sorry, Lord Regulus,” Sirius rolled his eyes, and then smirked as he got the bright idea to lick a finger and pretend to wipe a smudge off Regulus’ cheek, “you’ve got a little something… oh no it’s just mother’s makeup. When exactly did you start turning into her?”

“Ha.” Regulus snarked, wrinkling his nose as he swatted Sirius’ hand away. “I’m only here to make sure you don’t cause further embarrassment after what happened at the funeral.” Ah yes, that. When Sirius had gotten just a little too drunk and threatened to piss on his father’s uncovered grave, getting so far as to unzip his flies, before he was dragged by the ear to the vestry and given a thorough hiding, despite the fact that he was a full-grown adult who hadn’t been disciplined by his mother in nearly a decade.

“Oh sorry, it’s mother’s lapdog now, is it?” Sirius sneered, his tongue twisting in his mouth as he churned the bitter memory and drowned it in sweet spirits, downing the second glass James had ordered him and immediately grabbing the third, before James got any bright ideas.

“One of us has to keep up the pretence of being a respectable family.”

“So you admit it’s bullshit.”

“Sirius, pull yourself together.” Regulus hissed. Then, with barely a glance in his direction, Regulus addressed James, “keep this one presentable, Potter. Mother aside, he doesn’t need any more scandal.”

And with that, Regulus stalked off while Sirius pulled childish faces at his receding figure. There was the niggling thought that Regulus was perhaps right about avoiding another scandal, since the last one had almost chased him into an early grave, but Sirius pushed the thought down with another gulp of whiskey.

“He’s…something.” James offered uncertainly, as he plucked the half-empty glass from Sirius’ clawed grip and set it aside. “But maybe you should slow down a bit, mate.”

“He’s a royal arse, is what he is.” Sirius snarled. “And I don’t need to slow down. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m fucking fabulous, and half these people would be lucky to kiss the soles of my shoes.”

There was a small murmur from some of the people nearby at Sirius’ slightly raised tones. Sirius directed his burning glare at any who dared make eye contact, swiftly turning these nobodies back to their respective wittering. James could only shoot apologetic glances at people Sirius knew for a fact that James despised as much as he did. Bloody hypocrite, he thought, rather ungenerously as James steered him away from the crowd towards the empty study that was most definitely off-limits to guests. Then again, nowhere was really ever off-limits to Lord Black.

“Sirius, he’s just worried about you.” James started, shutting the door behind them to avoid unwanted attention.

“If he’s so bloody worried, why is this the first time he’s spoken to me since- since…”

“It’s been hard for him-”

“For him?” Sirius almost howled at the betrayal, “It’s been hard for me, James. I’m the one that had to endure endless screeching demands from my darling mother to ensure that every last minutia was perfect. I’m the one who had to wait for hours and hours at the morgue to identify father’s rotting corpse. I’m the one who had to wax lyrical about what a wonderful man that venomous pile of faeces was. All while baby Reggie played the part of the perfect little angel, all quiet and proper, like the good little mummy’s boy he is. God, did he lift a finger? Did he so much as arrange the flowers? Did he bother to send a blank greeting card to share in our tragic loss? Did he even look at me at the funeral when I was so clearly desperately begging for a single scrap of acknowledgement from him? Now I’m the one who has to be the face of the family, conduct myself all proper, rub elbows with these slimy tossers, keep my sparkling reputation untarnished from any slight indication that I might be anything other than the doting, straight, well-mannered son of that odious hag that calls herself a mother. And it’s been hard for him?”

“If you’d let me finish, Sirius.” James started firmly, once it was obvious that Sirius was done, “I was about to say it’s been hard for him and you both. And he knows it. Probably feels guilty that you’ve had to deal with all of it alone. Probably feels lonely, too.”

“You’re too generous, James,” Sirius muttered, calming somewhat now that he’d had his outburst.

“Maybe.” James shrugged, unconvinced. Then with a sigh, he pat his friend’s back soothingly, “C’mon let’s get you another drink. Virgin whiskey sour this time, maybe? You’ve still got to make it through dinner, don’t forget. And he is right about one thing.”

Sirius bristled, but allowed himself to be steered by his friend, grounded by the soothing rub between his shoulder blades.

“You don’t need another scandal. I can’t watch you go through that again, Sirius.” Sirius unclenched, sighing, and rolled his shoulders as he focused on the smooth fabric of Remus’ shirt brushing against his skin. It felt like pure oxygen.

“Right. Get me a cranberry juice, and a lot of ice. If we’re doing this, I’m leaving the Malfoys a little present for later.”

~~~

After that, Sirius was his ever-charming, effervescent self. The diplomatic face of the House of Black, complimenting Narcissa for her excellent taste in music, weighing in on the crime of inheritance tax when Rodolphus Lestrange bemoaned his shortchange at his uncle’s recent passing, and floating nimbly across the dancefloor with several women he despised, including Lady Cecelia for the requisite minimum of two dances to ensure it was clear to everyone that they had, in fact, come together. It made him sick to his stomach. Or perhaps that was the copious amounts of whiskey he’d managed to smuggle behind James’ concerned and ever-watchful eyes. Either way, he’d had to sneak away shortly after dinner to empty his stomach of any trace of the asparagus and black truffle terrine. Sirius took great pains to avoid using the toilet.

“Classy, Black.” Sirius looked up from where he was heaving on the floor into a briefcase to see the mocking silhouette of Dorcas Meadowes. Ordinarily he would be thrilled to see the outline of her chiselled, graceful figure. But he already felt terrible enough without her brazen scorn. Lady Dorcas was better than him, of that Sirius had no doubt. But must she be so forthright in proving it every time they met?

“Dor-” another heave as he held up a finger for her to wait until he finished wretching, “cas. Lovely to see you.” Sirius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, careful to avoid getting any on his lovely suit, before offering it to Dorcas. She wrinkled her nose at it.

“No, thank you Sirius. I don’t fancy walking around stinking of your vomit.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Other than being an absolute mess, as usual, you look absolutely ravishing, darling. I must get the name of your man. Wonder if he could do anything for my spectacular figure?” Dorcas smiled with biting affection as Sirius scrambled to his feet, now fairly certain that his stomach was done turning itself inside out. Dorcas handed him a glass of water, which Sirius eyed suspiciously.

“James sent you, didn’t he.”

“Well he was rather caught up in tedious conversation with one of those old bores from parliament… oh what’s the name… snail-something…”

“Slughorn.” Sirius supplied, having been forced to memorise the names of all cabinet ministers as a child, even the minor ones, through liberal application of the cane of course.

“That’s the one. Yes, seemed intent on wearing James’ ear off about tax reforms or something equally thrilling. So he asked me to come check on you.”

“I don’t need baby-sitting.”

“Clearly,” Dorcas’ disdainful regard glided over the oozing briefcase wearily. “Care to step outside this closet to somewhere slightly less… fragrant?”

“Not allowed out the closet.” Sirius mumbled petulantly. “Mother wouldn’t like it.”

“Very droll, Sirius. Not quite up to your usual sparkling wit after you’ve doused half your brain in liquor.”

“You’ve doused half your brain.” He mimicked like the petulant child he was being.

“Very good, Sirius, come on.” Dorcas sighed, as Sirius allowed her to pull him towards a bathroom, wash down his hands and splash some cold water on his face, dabbing carefully around his makeup to minimise the smudging. “What would you do without me, hm?”

Sirius just blinked blearily against the bathroom’s effusive lights and moaned.

“No, come on. None of that. We’ll make the rounds, and then you need to save Lady Cecelia from that sleaze Mulciber. He’s had three dances with her, and I’m starting to feel sorry for the poor girl.”

“She’s a bore.”

“That may be, Sirius, but I’m sure she paid a hefty price for the pleasure of your company this evening. Least you could do is accompany her home.”

“’s my mother she paid.” Sirius just grunted, stretching out his jaw in the mirror from where it had grown stiff in all his fake smiles and courtesy, as he stared into cold, grey eyes. “she doesn’t even like me. Just wants to be associated with my name.”

“I know, I know.” Dorcas consoled with a slow pat on the shoulder, meeting his doleful gaze in the mirror. “Poor little Lord Sirius, all these girls fawning over you and your looks and all that awful money you have spilling about. Whatever shall you do.” Sirius shot her a glare. But Dorcas shrugged it off, refusing to engage with whatever conflict Sirius was attempting to stir up. After making him down the rest of his water and getting his assurance that he would make himself presentable in the next ten minutes, Dorcas left him to his shivering self-pity.

Sirius traced a finger over the cold rim of the empty glass, still leaning one hand against the edge of the sink to steady himself. Everything around him was stark white and cold. He felt it seep into his skin as the alcohol drained away from his veins, leaving icy currents to flood his body. Every inch of the furnishings dripped with extravagance, from the snake-embossed fountain taps to the floor-to-ceiling black-framed mirror lining the wall, in case he ever wanted to watch himself take a shit on the platinum-plated throne. Once again staring back at himself in the mirror, Sirius dragged his finger, dripping with condensation from the iced waterglass, over his smudged lips, tugging and contorting his face to catch his reflection in the act. He felt that urge to smash the glass, to release the would-be Sirius free. Instead he shut his eyes against the buzzing ache in his head. Unbidden, a glint of mahogany-brown flashed behind his lids, and he snapped them open to check his suit over. In all the chaos, he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t snagged something. He wouldn’t be able to wear this suit again any time soon, of course, but it would be a shame if it had been damaged. No, the suit was still intact. Still perfect. His gaze fell to the dip in his collar, and he trailed a finger down his throat, across his chest, imagining it belonged to someone else. A small whine escaped, all while he stared into his own eyes.

“Remus,” he murmured, feeling his mind go into a foggy haze, still floating in spiced liquor.

But he was Lord Sirius Black III, of the Noble and Most Ancient House, Duke of Sutherland, Marquess of Stafford, and Master of Godric Hall. He would not be sent into a tailspin by a simple tailor. He would not pine over a meagre suit. He was stunning, dripping in silver and black and deep shades of purple. It was him, his beauty, his body, not someone’s craft, that made him the powerful, imposing figure that commanded the attention of every insipid soul out there. More, they demanded. And he would be more. He would be everything. With his icy sneer carved onto stone lips, and with the bearing of a king, Sirius stepped back out, breezing past Dorcas, and offered himself to the throng of people below. They were worms beneath the heel of his tapered brogues. They were nothing. He was everything and he would show them that nothing they could do or say registered as more than a smudge on the window of his life.

“Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy, Lord Lucius,” Sirius announced loudly, as he approached. He inclined his head gently, to assure them that despite whatever misapprehensions their family harboured about exerting their power, they should count themselves lucky to even warrant his momentary consideration. “I thank you kindly for inviting me to your gracious home. It has been a welcome comfort and I thank you once again for being there in our family’s time of need. All the best for your upcoming nuptials, Lucius. I do hope you and Narcissa will enjoy half the success of your parents’ long and happy union. I look forward to seeing you all at the wedding.”

And without allowing them a word, as befit his status, he whisked an astounded Lady Cecelia out of Mulciber’s slimy grasp and stalked out of the manor without a glance in any direction. The hall hushed around him as he cut through the crowd, a path clearing for him as he went – as it should – all the while he pointed his nose to the ceiling, that perfect sneer still etched on his lips. The party was over. Sirius Black had declared it. So as he exited the doors, he heard the shuffle of people gathering themselves, saying their goodbyes. He was power. The Malfoys and those other families could never aspire to dictate the sway of a room in such a way.

Cecelia was too taken aback to speak for the whole of the return journey. A mingled gleam of lust and fear lingered in her eyes as she watched Sirius out the corner of her eye. Sirius said nothing, did not glance at her, did not acknowledge her, only walking her silently back to her door and politely declined the offer for a nightcap. Stiff-backed and starched expression, he gave nothing away. He was everything they wanted him to be, and more. They always wanted more.

Only once Frank had driven safely out of view of the house, did Sirius double over and throw up on the floor of the car, feeling his necklace and all his finery bearing down on his neck like a weight ready to drown him in his own bile.

“Lord Black, are you quite well?”

Sirius didn’t reply, only closed his eyes and let silent tears douse his cheeks.

Chapter Text

Sirius found himself still awake as dawn started to creep in a chilling mist through the slit in the curtains. He sat listless, still in his suit and leaning up against the headboard of his bed with a half-empty bottle clutched lazily at his side, though it had remained untouched for hours. His head pulsed heavy with the need to sleep and his eyes were dry and raw, but he fought against the urge, preferring to stare into nothing and fend off the empty dark. Preferring to chase away the whirring thoughts of inadequacy as he reminded himself again and again that he was Lord Black. He was power - churning like a mantra behind his eyes in a chant that drowned out the creeping emptiness. He was power, he was power, he was power. Everything else reduced to mere whisps of nothing in the face of Sirius Black, as he concealed every glimpse of that gaping hole tearing away at his insides. With his mind swimming against the weight of the morning, Sirius grasped for the phone, wincing at the blaring taunt of the dial tone as it rang out.

“Lupin’s Sartorial, how can I help?” Came the bleary voice on the end of the phone. Sirius had not expected anyone to answer.

“Remus?”

“Lord Bla- Um, Sirius?” came the confused reply.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I don’t know anyone else entitled enough to call a business at five in the morning. Plus your posh accent gave it away a bit.” Sirius could almost see his smirk already, and then the image of a bleary-eyed Remus, with hair still sticking up from his pillow, floated unbidden into Sirius’ mind and his stomach twisted nervously.

“Why did you answer then?” He feigned indignance at being called entitled and posh, though it was widely acknowledged that he was both.

“Thought it might be an emergency.”

“A suit emergency?”

“Oh trust me, it happens.”

“Alright, well…” Sirius hesitated, staring out at the dark spines of frost climbing the windows. “It’s not an emergency.” He waited for the click of the receiver. It never came.

“Sirius, you still there?”

“Yes, I’m…” Sirius hesitated again. Why was he calling. What did he want. Always that question taunting him. “I’m back from the party. You know, the one the suit was for.”

“Oh. You just got back?”

“No, actually. I got back at about midnight.”

“You couldn’t have called then?”

“So you’re a night-owl?” And for some reason, Sirius found the edges of a smile creeping onto his face.

“I suppose. Rather be up at midnight than five a.m.”

“Noted.”

“That was not an invitation.”

“I wanted to say thank you.” Sirius gushed, as he finally found the words, tumbling over the last half of Remus’ chiding remark. The silence rung on the end of the phone, so Sirius bolstered himself with a deep breath and continued, “for the suit, I mean. It was… perfect.”

“I’m glad.”

“I want another one.”

“Um, okay...” He could hear Remus pause to consider, almost able to picture that furrow in his brow, the teeth nipping at his bottom lip, “Well I have your measurements now, so if you want to come in for a consultation-”

“No, no. That won’t be necessary. I trust your judgement.”

“Oh.” A beat, and then, “Well, what’s it for?”

“A wedding.” Sirius only half-lied, before hurriedly adding, “Not mine.”

“Right, okay. That’s easy enough.”

“Remus?”

“Yes?”

“Make it special.”

“Of course, Lord Black. Only the best for my most noble liege lord.” Sirius could hear the warm, lightly-mocking smile through the speakers.

“Remus?”

“Yes?”

“What kind of suit emergencies?”

The early dawn grew into seeping pools of morning light as Remus spun yarns about wardrobe malfunctions that had him on a train to Dover at four in the morning, or rapidly schooling a distressed groom over the phone as if stitching a tear were CPR. As Remus spoke, something between apprehension and excitement simmered beneath Sirius’ ribs. Perhaps it was the separation of the phone and many miles between them, or perhaps it was the residual tipsiness of the copious amounts of whiskey Sirius had drunk, but all his earlier concerns over keeping the charming tailor at a distance had vanished. Instead, the conversation flowed more pleasant than sweetened drams of liquor, like they had been friends for years. It was almost like talking to James, except that Sirius felt a chaotic zip of energy with every husky satin chuckle that fell loose from Remus’ lips.

At some point during the call Sirius tucked himself into his bed, closing his eyes and humming replies as Remus’ mellow murmurings danced around his ears. Sirius’ light laughter began to die down as Remus concluded his latest story of an anxious mother who had demanded he make a full tuxedo as a matter of urgency for the following day. Suffice to say, he had not fulfilled the request. As the conversation halted, the silence began to expand until Remus spoke again.

“What are they like then?” Remus asked, his voice was tentative, almost like he wasn’t sure he should be asking, but he continued, “these grand parties of yours?”

“Oh, you know. Same old faces, same schmoozing politicians, same grotesque displays of wealth,” Sirius listed off blandly, sounding exactly as bored as the entire affair made him feel. He turned over onto his side, balancing the phone on his upturned ear and opening his eyes with a blink towards the morning light. He tried to imagine the light blocked out by a silhouetted figure lying on the bed next to him.

“So, you had fun then?” Remus teased, and Sirius longed to reach through the phone and seize the smirk that he could already picture without seeing Remus’ face.

“Oh yeah,” Sirius drawled flatly, “It was a riot.”

Remus chuckled, and for some reason it made Sirius smile. He wanted to hear it again and again. So Sirius regaled him of the night’s events. He told him of the spectacle Rabastan Lestrange had made, clumsily insulting every parliamentary member in his after-dinner speech. He recounted how a certain greasy-haired member of parliament had been spectacularly snubbed by Lady Fortescue’s daughter when he asked her to dance. Sirius revelled in the crackled laugh tumbling down the receiver and carefully avoided the topic of Regulus or any mention of whiskey or vomiting in closets. He did, however, boast proudly about the exit he had made, marching up to the Malfoys and turning his back on them without letting them get a word in.

“What did they do?” Remus asked, already exuding a muffled laugh at Sirius’ unflattering description of the soured looks on Lord and Lady Malfoy’s face before he stormed out of their party.

“Oh… I don’t know. I wasn’t around to find out. But I’m pretty sure the party ended as soon as I left.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame them. Any party without you is clearly not one worth being at.” Remus teased, but Sirius almost believed he could hear something sincere in his voice.

“Perhaps you ought to join me next time,” Sirius ventured, hardly knowing what he was saying and not caring that the thought was mere fantasy, “just in case I have a suit emergency. You never know when it might help to have a tailor on hand.”

“You never know.” There was a whisper of something timid and unspoken in Remus’ shy reply and the air between them stilled again, leaving heavy silence and the hum of static. After a moment, Sirius’ eyes began to drift close, wishing he could fall asleep to the voiceless breathing down the line.

“Um, Sirius?” Remus roused Sirius back awake, “It’s been lovely talking, but I have to go.” And perhaps Sirius imagined it, but he thought he heard something akin to reluctance in the other man’s voice.

“Go? Where?” Sirius mumbled, in his alcohol and sleep-addled confusion. Remus gave another soft chuckle and it was like being submerged in warm water. Sirius shuffled deeper into the luxurious sheets around him, though they felt comparatively cold next to Remus’ lilting voice.

“It’s nearly nine o’clock, Sirius. Some of us have to actually work.”

“Oh. That.”

“Yeah, that. I’ve got to open up shop soon. Actually, really I should’ve been getting the shop ready about half an hour ago, but honestly you’re my biggest customer at the moment. Not to mention, I live in the middle of nowhere, so I’m not too worried about losing the practically non-existent walk-in business if I open a bit late. But I should…”

“If I buy more suits, will you keep talking to me?” If Sirius had been an ounce more sober, or an hour less sleep-deprived, he would never have allowed such a pitiful plea past his lips. There was an odd noise from the other end of the phone that Sirius couldn’t make out.

Remus cleared his throat before he spoke again, “And when exactly would I make all these suits, if I’m here talking to you, hm?”

“You can’t see it, but I’m pouting.” Sirius huffed, earning another glancing laugh.

“Oh dear, Lord Black, we can’t have that can we.”

“Sirius.” He corrected.

“Sirius, I need to go now. Please don’t pout?”

“Mmph.” Was Sirius’ sleepy reply.

“I’ll call you when your new suit’s ready for a fitting.” Sirius didn’t reply, but something twinged at the thought that he wouldn’t see Remus until then. “Sleep well, Sirius,” Remus was saying before Sirius could stop him.

“Night, Remus.” And finally there was a light click and Remus was gone.

Left with the empty dial-tone ringing out, Sirius fumbled it back into its cradle before turning over to finally let feverish alcohol-frenzied dreams of brown eyes and burgundy lipstick overtake him.

~~~

When Sirius next woke up, it was to the piercing peal of the phone and the glint of a crimson sunset bleeding through a crack in the curtains. Groaning and pulling the blanket over his head, Sirius attempted to block out the sound, to slip back into sweet dreams of calloused fingers tracing the skin along the collar of a silken shirt. When the ringing didn’t stop, Sirius yanked at the receiver with a loud huff to the empty room, only for it to drop onto his forehead.

“What.” He croaked from a liquor-burnt throat, rubbing at the sore spot on his head.

“Good evening to you too.” Came the overly chipper voice of one James Potter.

“Bugger off.”

“I most certainly will not.” Sirius whined profusely. Ignoring Sirius’ protests, James continued, “Didn’t catch you before you left last night. Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“You always say that.”

“M’always fine.”

“Sirius.”

“James.” There was a drawn-out sigh from the other end of the line.

“Alright, well, you know where I am.” There was a shuffle, and Sirius could tell James was about to give in and hang up the phone.

“Wait- James?” the response was silence, but James hadn’t hung up, so Sirius drew a deep breath and steadied his resolve. “I’m sorry. About last night.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, mate.” and the guilt ricocheted around Sirius’ insides like the marble in a pinball machine, “Just don’t disappear on me, okay? I know you hate it, but I’m here. And Dorcas too. She was worried when you left so quickly. Maybe give her a call after this? Let her know you’re doing okay.”

“Right, yeah maybe.”

“Padfoot?”

“Yeah, Prongs.”

“We all love you, you know.” Sirius squirmed. Hearing it stated so bluntly was not something he could ever begin to get used to, not even in the twenty years he had known James. Sirius only grunted in reply. “And you looked sexy as hell last night. ‘Specially when you waltzed out of there like you owned the place. I told you Lupin was a good tailor.”

“Language, Prongs,” Sirius teased, and then slowly – almost silent – he added, “Yeah, he is…”

“But?”

“No buts.” He could almost hear James straining not to make a childish remark, but then James’ response was something entirely unexpected.

“Huh.” James said, as if something had occurred to him.

“What?”

“No, nothing… I’ve just never heard you without at least some complaint.”

“Oi. I don’t complain about everything.”

“Most things.” James reasoned. “You know it’s always, oh well the mattress could have been softer, or the porridge is too hot.”

“I’m not fucking Goldilocks, James.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll remember that next time you’re sending the steak back because ‘they’ve only made it very rare’ instead of blue.”

“Steak is only good if it’s still bloody,” Sirius whined and James burst into a hearty laugh. Sirius couldn’t help but release a small chuckle too. The laughter stilled and they let the quiet sit between them.

“I miss hearing your laugh, Padfoot,” James said, after a moment had passed.

“Haven’t been in much of a laughing mood.”

“I know.” James’ words came through the phone in layers of understanding to wrap around Sirius like a thick blanket of wool. Again there was silence between them and Sirius felt it like a sting. Be better.

“Alright, I should…”

“Yeah…” They both lingered for a moment longer, until with a stiff breath, James prompted, “Right, speak to you later, Black. Don’t forget to call Dorcas.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Love you, sweetie.” Sirius scoffed at the click as James ended the call. Rolling his eyes, he punched Dorcas’ number into the phone. It rang for a few minutes.

“What.” Came the grouchy voice on the other end. Ah, so Sirius wasn’t the only one recovering from a heavy night. Dorcas hadn’t drunk that much at the party, as far as Sirius could recall, but she did have a tendency at these events to find a demure, forward-thinking woman with whom to continue her own party into the small hours of the morning. Sirius was only amazed that she hadn’t circulated through all of polite society yet – or maybe she had and they were only too happy for a second go. Sirius had a sneaking suspicion that, if either of them were that way inclined, he would have been lining up next to them. Alas, he loved her too much to ever cross that boundary with her, and neither of them were interested anyway.

“Hiya Dorcas. You can thank James for this. He told me to call you.” At this, Dorcas whined, like the echo to Sirius’ soul. “Believe me, I know.”

“I thought you’d have drowned in your own vomit already.”

“Charming.”

“Call me at a reasonable hour and I might be.”

“It’s five p.m.”

“Shit.”

“Tell me about it…” Sirius sighed, catching his shadowed reflection in the mirror of his wardrobe door. Despite the darkness of the unlit room, he could just about make out his own crumpled features. His makeup had smudged over his face, forming dark circles over his eyes, and his hair knotted in a tangled mess above his head. Something haggard haunted the bags beneath his eyes and his usually flawless skin was sallow and puffy. He only needed a touch more madness before the resemblance to Cousin Bella became uncanny. Sirius shuddered at the thought.

“Did you call Remus, then?”

“What? How did you- What?” Sirius demanded, unable to disguise his alarm.

“Sweetie you drunk dialled me about three times from the car home.” Dorcas’ voice came through knowing and smug. “You wouldn’t shut up about Remus this and Remus that, you were all ‘I need to call him’, ‘no you don’t understand, Dorcas, he’s special’, and something about apologising for being an arse. You also kept saying that you ‘need more’, which was a bit creepy to be honest. Nearly ruined my night too.”

Ah, well Sirius was nothing if not consistent.

“I… don’t remember that.” Sirius winced, recalling a vague memory of making Frank stop at a service station outside Oxford and pick him up a bottle of cheap whiskey for the remainder of the journey, hence why he’d still been tipsy at five in the morning when he’d stupidly decided to call his tailor, though he had no recollection of planning that call in advance, much less calling Dorcas to talk about it. Fortunately, Dorcas decided spare him further embarrassment for now.

“Do you think you might have a bit of a problem?”

“As if half the Cabinet isn’t sloshed on a daily basis.”

“Fair point.”

“Anyway, I didn’t call for a lecture. I’ve got James for that.”

“Fine. What did you call for?”

“Just to tell you I’m fine, and apparently to let you know that I haven’t drowned in my own sick.”

“Good to know. Goodnight Sirius.”

“Sleep tight, Dorco.” Another click, and the room felt entirely empty. No James, no Dorcas, no Remus. At the end of it all, Sirius was alone, in his room, hungover and feeling like he’d been launched through a cement mixer.

Giving a loud groan, he pushed himself up on creaking joints, wiping the globs of last night’s mascara from his eyes with the sleep. Sirius wandered through echoing rooms for a while, haunted by the hidden faces of long-forgotten ancestors that he’d covered with dust cloths and curtains. He chased the covered frames round in circles through the many-chambered halls, almost believing that if he walked long enough something in those ancient walls might change, someone might appear. He spent a while lingering in the library, examining cracked spines and faded letters, and almost contemplated reading, but then considered it a waste since anything he could ever learn would be entirely useless (outside of the law degree and MBA he’d been forced through kicking and screaming). It wasn’t like he needed to know things. Sirius, like all beautiful, opulent things, was mostly decorative. An ornate piece to be brought out on special occasions and shown around.

Leaving the library feeling more peevish and restless than before, Sirius spent some time pacing the polished wood floors of the parlour and then the dining room, staring through high windows out at the picturesque garden – even in winter it was replete with greenery and countless ornaments. Everything at Godric Hall had been carefully curated by generation after generation of Blacks and maintained by those that served them. Sirius had never even bought a single piece of furniture.

When Sirius had moved into Godric Hall upon coming of age, his instinct had been to torch the entire place. After all, everything there was tied to that cursed name of Black: Every decrepit chair had once been sat in by his father, every step he took had been taken by countless Lord Blacks before him, every mirror had seen that same face in its iterative evolutions from one generation to the next. So yes, burning it all down, he had decided, would be for the best. That was when Minerva found him, stood before a few chairs smashed into kindling, holding a length of timber to the blazing fire with a maniacal gleam in his glistening fury-filled eyes. She had, very calmly, in that stern Scottish trill, told him to put the flaming chair leg into the fireplace and take a seat. Sirius had expected stone-melting fury, screams of outrage, and cruel admonishments. After all, that was what happened when Sirius destroyed things. But when Minerva had spoken to him, firmly but with kindness in her words, Sirius had felt entirely powerless for the first time in his life. So he sat down and wept.

Sirius had never cried much – a Black should never show weakness, after all – but that night he had cried and cried until he thought he would dry up, and then he cried some more. All the while Minerva sat with him, not comforting him like James would have with affectionate hugs and murmurs of understanding, but soothing him with her steady presence. She had simply waited for him to extinguish the flames in the flood pouring from his lungs. Once he finally finished, she gently explained that it was her life’s work to preserve Godric Hall, to keep the estate and all its artefacts pristine for centuries to come, when they themselves would be but dust and ash. And, she had added with a mischievous glint, on the slim chance that the revolution came and all aristocracy was made obsolete, her bosom hope was that the place would become a public museum for all to share in its history.

Flickers of the warm memory danced in front of his eyes in the pale reflection of those towering windows, and he resolved that he was in such dire need of company, that he would venture where he rarely dared, into the study. As expected, he found Minerva, who had been in charge of overseeing Godric Hall longer than Sirius had been alive, going through the estate’s account books. He did tend to avoid the study, and Minerva at that, not because he didn’t enjoy her company, but more because it reminded him of his own ineptitudes (despite her insistence that he could be of great use to many people if he only put his mind to it). Here he was, amassing wealth and status in his sleep, while Minerva and her thoroughly vetted retinue of household staff kept everything in perfect condition. She was the real brains of the estate – and to be sure, Sirius compensated her handsomely for all she did – but it didn’t escape Sirius that the only reason she was in his employ was because he had been born a Black and she had been born to an accountant in the Hebrides. Sirius didn’t like to acknowledge that everything to his name was a mere accident of birth, and Minerva was nothing if not a living reminder of that fact. On top of which, despite her calm disposition, he was still a little scared of that stony look of disapproval she had whenever she saw him squandering his potential – which was often.

On this day, however, perhaps still a little tipsy with last night’s courage, Sirius felt brave as he sauntered into the study that was his in name, but Minerva’s in everything else, and plopped himself down in the matted old paisley armchair beneath the shadow of her imposing bureau.

“Everything looking okay?” Sirius asked, though he was scarcely bothered with the intricacies of his obscene wealth. He had enough, more than enough, to see himself and several generations through a few economic meltdowns. At this point, it was like counting sheep. He didn’t know how Minerva wasn’t constantly dozing off, but then she was thoroughly invested in the well-being of the estate.

“Very good, sir.” Minerva kept her tight expression, as if it were held in place by the equally tight bun at the top of her head, managing to hide her surprise at Sirius’ sudden appearance and apparent interest in his own affairs. “Your latest fund investments have grown thirty percent since last quarter.”

“Good, good.” Sirius nodded absently, “Any news?”

“There were tensions in Russia following the last global peace summit,” she spoke in lilting tones suppressed by many years living amongst English nobility, “India’s prime minister has outlined new plans for their economic expansion, and Sweden have taken a big step up in the relief efforts following the Karachi monsoon.”

“Any interesting news?”

“The prince consort has allegedly been implicated in a for-profit horse bet scheme.”

Sirius snorted. He was well aware of the prince’s tendencies; half the land’s gentry were directly involved. “Well, what can you do? The poor get poorer, and the rich get tawdrier.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“You’re not embezzling from me, are you?”

“I would never, sir.” Minerva’s mouth twitched nearly into smile, though her voice seemed bored at the accusation.

“Good, good.” Sirius sighed, equally bored. Stating as much, he added, “I’m bored.”

“Can I arrange some entertainment for you, sir?”

“No, no. Keep doing the good work. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”

“Of course, sir.” Minerva returned to the books, pretending that Sirius’ constant wriggling wasn’t entirely distracting.

“Hey, Minnie?” Sirius spoke up again, after barely a minute’s silence.

“Yes, sir?” she did not look up, never willing to give him the pleasure of reacting to his ridiculous pet names (among which ‘Minnie’ was on the tamer side).

“Call my tailor and have him add four suits to the order I placed this morning.” and this did get her attention, as she looked up, examining him carefully with an elegantly arched brow.

“I wasn’t aware you placed an order, sir?”

“Oh, I arranged that personally.” Sirius felt himself blush a little at Minerva’s scrutinising gaze. “Just, have him add four suits to the order: Two business suits, one for casual evening wear, and one for formal dress – no specific event, but tell him to make it special. He’ll understand.”

Minerva continued to peer inquisitively at Sirius from over her spectacles, but apparently decided to keep her thoughts to herself. “Very good, sir. Is this an urgent request, or may I place the order during business hours tomorrow?”

“Oh. No, that’s fine.”

“Very well. Anything else, sir?”

“No, no that will be all.” Sirius acquiesced, getting the sense that he was being asked to leave, as she turned back to her books, so he staggered to his feet to resume his rambling. “I think I’ll get some air; take a turn about the garden.”

“Very good, sir. Shall I call someone to light the chiminea?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, Minerva.” Minerva paused for a moment, apparently not expecting to be thanked, but she didn’t look back up from her books.

“You’re most welcome, sir.” Sirius didn’t notice the small, knowing smile as he made his exit. After that, he spent his evening roaming the grounds, enshrouded in pitch dark and letting the winter chill remind him he was real.

~~~

Sirius was restless for the rest of November. Everything he filled his days with seemed a pointless pastime to while away the hours while he hurtled towards some unknown destination. The waiting itched beneath his skin. Short days dragged into endless night, most of which he spent with his head in a bottle, or on the phone to James, or both. Other than the token appearances at quarterly board meetings for the Black family businesses, in which he had little to no input beyond the nominal approvals and requisite signatures, Sirius had nothing with which to fill his time while the outcome of elections for his father’s empty seat in the House of Lords was still pending. The seat had been filled by the head of the Black family for centuries, even after the majority of the hereditary lords were dismissed from parliament. But even Sirius was aware of the vicious gossip that the Black family was failing, that their monopoly on the country’s power was in decline, that Sirius Black was the weak link who would see the ruin of the once mighty and powerful family. Noble and Most Ancient. All ending with Sirius Black.

This was a good enough reason for Sirius to be restless. He should be concerned for his political standing, for his influence. Even from her distance at the main Black residence, his mother wrote him almost daily to remind him of his responsibility to continue the legacy of his ancient forebears. For centuries the name Black has been synonymous with power; you will not be the one to ruin this. For decades the name Sirius has been synonymous with ruin; Sirius ruined everything. At least that’s what his mother and father told him. That’s what his cousins and grandfather told him. That’s what Regulus told him the last time they spoke – really spoke. The last time he had looked into his brother’s eyes and seen anything other than a glacial barrier of indifference: You’ve ruined everything, Sirius.

So, it was no surprise to anyone around him that he was restless. But, like a deep-seated treasure, Sirius kept the real reason guarded close beneath his chest. He wanted his suits.

In the three weeks since the impromptu order, Sirius had ordered no less than ten additional suits to be made in the upcoming months. Sirius was fairly certain Lupin’s had not seen that much business in over a century. But he had money to spare and he craved the suits. And waiting for them to be ready made him crave more, so he came up with all manner of requests – several summer suits (ordered in the harshest depths of winter), another business suit, a full tuxedo for new year’s, even a tweed shooting jacket and trousers to satisfy his curiosity, not to mention another half a dozen shirts. The call came in early December, unbeknownst to Sirius. When he had spoken to Minerva in the late hours of morning, she had spent the entire conversation discussing menial affairs: This drain needs fixing, the board of directors is meeting next Thursday, the groundskeeper was inquiring about planting up the fields for Spring. Only at the last moment, like an afterthought, she had mentioned in an off-hand manner that Lupin’s had called saying that the first suit was ready.

Now, it was rare that Sirius considered Minerva a fool. She often seemed to have more common sense than the entirety of parliament put together. But when she had suggested that he wait until the remaining shirts and two additional suits were ready, to save on making the long journey multiple times in one month, Sirius had nothing to say – merely stared at her as though she had proposed mating a magpie with a grouse.

Cutting hasty footprints in the crisp, hoarfrost grass of the vast lawn, Sirius sprinted to the bottom of the drive. Frank was already warming the car by the front gate, as Sirius had insisted, too impatient to sit in the back of the car as it wound in elegant fashion down the seemingly endless gravel road. Running across the lawn was much quicker, and far more satisfying when Sirius looked back and saw a messy trail winding around innumerable signs demanding he keep off the grass. Sirius hadn’t had a sip to drink by the time Frank rolled his car into that quaint little Welsh village, spilling over with lights and glittering baubles in preparation for Christmas. Unlike Godric Hall, where winter brought icy mist and brumous skies, Remus’ village seemed to sparkle with magic. Even the dark winter's evening seemed a shimmering blanket, studded with stars hanging low about the opalescent moon. Despite his thick puffs of breath visible as he strode up to Lupin’s shop, Sirius would insist that he had never been warmer. Barely able to contain his excitement, Sirius steadied himself outside, looking into the empty windows for a glimpse of the tailor, while he forced himself to calm his urgent breaths.

Remus was nowhere to be seen when Sirius finally drew up the courage to enter the shop, but the mismatched lights were on, and a scrap of material hung loose from the sewing machine at the back. Sirius could almost see the way Remus had carelessly left it to dangle, mid-stitch, when something more pressing had captured his attention and whisked him off elsewhere. Noticing the heavy wooden door at the back of the shop was slightly ajar, Sirius crept forward until he was able to poke a curious nose between the gap. He had expected to see a workbench, or store-room, or some-sort of office, but instead found a dark, narrow stairway leading to an intriguing, battered-looking door at the top. Silent and holding his breath in suspense, overcome by the urge to uncover every secret the atelier had to offer, Sirius crept up the stairs creaking obtrusively underfoot.

Leaving the light of the shop behind him, Sirius was falling up the rabbit-hole, clambering through the wardrobe, guided by the tarnished, red-chipped paint of the second door to the right. Mischief and magic awaited beyond that poky little entranceway – Sirius was certain. Reaching the door, a spark pulsed through his veins to see that the door was caught on the latch, and with a tentative brush of curious fingers, the door creaked open. The gap in the door was only a thin wedge, but it was enough to see the beginnings of a crowded flat, overwhelming in its muted colours of blue and green. An old wooden table and a couple of rickety chairs clustered in front of the door, besides a rusting fridge and battered cooker. Not much further beyond the kitchen – not that Sirius would have considered half the room sufficient to constitute a kitchen – a ragged sage (or at least what used to be sage) sofa, in front of which stood a light wooden coffee table, scattered with what looked like magazine clippings and far too many mugs for one person. A brief doubt crossed over Sirius’ mind that perhaps there was more than one person who lived up here, but recalling the lingering loneliness of the tailor, somehow Sirius found that impossible to believe. Without realising, Sirius had begun edging into the flat, and despite the twinge of guilt at encroaching on Remus’ private space, he reasoned it was merely a quick peek to satisfy his curiosity. Then he would return, unnoticed, to the shop floor. Just as Sirius was certain that there was magic to be found in that drab little flat, he was certain that Remus wouldn’t really mind.

Or at least he thought he was, before the door opened fully to reveal a familiar pair of eyes regarding him, entirely unamused, and all certainty of anything he had ever known evaporated in an instant. Remus naturally stood nearly half a foot taller than Sirius on an even footing, but as he backed Sirius out of the door and down into the narrow stairway, the extra two steps between them meant Remus now towered over him ominously. Between that and the way his face was cast in shadows from the dim light emanating from the flat over his shoulder, Remus cut a menacing figure as he raised an expectant and unimpressed eyebrow.

“I- uh- I’m…”

“Yes?”

“Here for my suits?” Sirius offered dubiously. “You weren’t in the shop, so…”

“I see,” came the cool response, entirely incongruous with the warm voice that had floated down the end of the phone in the early hours of morning only a few weeks ago, “and do you make a habit of letting yourself into other people’s homes when they are not immediately at your disposal?”

“You live here?” Sirius blurted, entirely forgoing all manners that had been drilled into him so thoroughly since he could talk.

“Only when I’m not holidaying at my villa in Bordeaux.” Noticing Sirius’ blank look of bewilderment, Remus added with an exasperated sigh, “That was sarcasm, Sirius.”

“I knew that.” Sirius objected in a flagrant lie. Remus sighed again, rubbing away the crinkle in his brow with those deft fingers and a battered sigh.

“After you, Lord Black.” He indicated with an open palm back towards the narrow descent from where Sirius had started.

“Right.” He jolted into action, only realising then that he had in fact been gawking at Remus’ face for several minutes.

Once back in the shop, Sirius lingered awkwardly by the front desk – somehow completely incapable of his usual regal posture, even wearing his sharpest black overcoat. He had decided on a monochrome look, feeling entirely defeated by his wardrobe full of colours that he had no doubt would pale next to Remus’ designs. Still, the grey polo neck and black chinos flattered his frame in all the right ways. Not that it mattered, of course. He was here for a new suit, nothing more. As he fidgeted in restless tension, there was a tickle of anticipation tugging at his bones.

Remus was intentional in making Sirius wait. Still wearing a chagrined, weary frown, he busied himself in tidying up the scrap that was still caught in the sewing machine, as well as shuffling papers in a way that he evidently thought was a neat pile on his desk, but somehow only added to the overall clutter of the shop. Sirius had to bite his lip to stop from smiling, and then frowned when he realised that such a trivial nothing had spun a cord of delight down his spine. Remus had not spoken since they had re-entered the shop, was even pointedly ignoring Sirius. The problem was that nobody ignored Sirius. Ever. And Remus ignoring him now was turning his restlessness into rolling waves of agitation. As he became increasingly agitated, desperate even, his lungs filled with steam until he could take no more of the building pressure.

“Well, where is it?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry?” Remus was all polite innocence without so much as a glimpse in Sirius’ direction.

“I came all this way, and you’re not even going to let me try it on?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Black. I wasn’t aware we had an appointment.” In unyielding patience, Remus maintained his cool indifference. It was as if he knew exactly how much it irked Sirius.

Sirius scoffed. “I told you to call me Sirius.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry, but that was before you rather rudely let yourself into my home without so much as a knock.”

“Well, sorry if-”

“Ah, so you do know that word.” And Sirius’ cheeks flushed, indignant. He hadn’t apologised to many people in his life. Had rarely had cause. If something was wrong, Sirius was invariably not at fault. It was the responsibility of those who served him to anticipate his every move, whim, desire. If they failed to do so, Sirius was not to blame.

“I hardly think-”

“There’s a surprise.” Remus muttered in wry amusement, with the hint of a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. Oh, Sirius would show him. But before he had a chance, Remus had swept to his side, several suit covers draped over one arm, the other extended cordially towards the dressing area in invitation, all reproaches forgotten. “I finished the second suit this afternoon, if you would like to see both?”

Despite his earlier indignation, Sirius now found himself rooted by the entrance, Remus’ affected customer-smile back in place, merely inches from Sirius, as though any unpleasantness had never taken place.

“This way, Lord Black, if you will.”

“Sirius.” He insisted, remaining planted in place. To his surprise, Remus stayed put as well.

“My apologies, Lord Black.” Sirius couldn’t stand it. Wanted to rip the words from Remus’ throat so he could never utter them again.

“Oh would you cut it out already?” The frustration burst unbidden from his chest, “I’m sorry I came into your supersecret lair, and I’m sorry I turned up unannounced even though you called this morning to let me know that the suit was ready so you were obviously expecting me, and I’m sorry I called you at five in the morning instead of at midnight three weeks ago, and I’m sorry I’m an entitled posh twat who’s travelled hours cross-country for the privilege of being dressed in one of your precious suits. Is that alright? Have I apologised enough?”

“Not quite.” Came the coquettish reply. Remus’ face betrayed nothing, but Sirius could tell he was being laughed at, as mischief glinted behind brown eyes.

“What?” Sirius demanded, growing impatient.

“You haven’t apologised for the obscene amount of work I’m now facing over Christmas.” Remus chided, though it was perfectly clear from the edges of his smirk that he wasn’t the least bit bothered in obtaining a genuine apology.

“What?” came the demand again.

“Eleven suits, Sirius? I know you’re rich, but I won’t be able to sleep for the next two months.”

A pang of guilt seeped into Sirius’ voice, as he muttered, “Well, you should sleep of course...”

“You’re too kind.” Came the dripping sardonic reply.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“No, I’ve noticed you don’t do a lot of that.”

“Look, I’m trying to apologise.” Sirius retorted hotly, not at all amused by Remus’ teasing.

“You are.” Remus conceded, and the smirk vanished as he regarded Sirius carefully, as if weighing his value on an imaginary scale, mirth still ghosting his expression. According to his accountants, Sirius was worth nearly seven billion. He had a suspicion that Remus’ scale used a different metric.

“I- I am sorry… about coming in unannounced. I was just a bit curious, which I know doesn’t make it right.” He added hastily. At Sirius’ meek and genuine apology, Remus’ eyebrows shot up. He quickly schooled his surprise back into a stern, expectant expression. Sirius couldn’t help thinking that Remus might have made an excellent teacher in another life. Sirius would have certainly paid more attention in class, or perhaps he would have only been more distracted staring into dancing pools of chocolate. “and I’m sorry I’ve been so demanding on your time lately.”

Remus continued to watch Sirius like St Peter at the gates inspecting his soul. Sirius could barely contain his shiver under that intense examination. In an effort to dispel the sudden urge to do something reckless, Sirius put on a performance at easy-going civility, an act that he tended to reserve for political acquaintances, now feigned for very different reasons.

“Look, could we perhaps move past this unpleasant business altogether and get on with being friends,” he offered.

“Perhaps we should.” Remus melted into a genuine, soft smile, no hint of snark. It occurred to Sirius that this was the first time he was seeing it, all of Remus’ other smiles up to that point being plastered-on courtesy or teasing, or something between the two. For a second his breath was taken away. “Provided you’ll stop waltzing uninvited into other people’s homes in future?”

Sirius nodded and returned a small smile, holding out his hand, “Friends, then.”

“Yeah…” Remus seemed almost hesitant, though his smile stayed bright, as he took his hand, “Friends.” Their hands lingered in the handshake a little longer than necessary, before slipping apart, the gentle trace of Remus’ fingers against his own seared hot lines into his skin.

“So, your suits.” Remus’ voice was more distant than before, and Sirius realised he had been so absorbed in suppressing his own reactions he hadn’t even noticed Remus move away completely, leaving him standing alone in the entrance. Once Sirius caught up, he found the suits already hanging behind the partition, and Remus returned to wait on the other side without a sound.

Sirius took a moment to admire the new creations, hands gliding over the navy blue of a thick evening suit. It was straight forward enough, but the care was evident in the delicate stitching and tapered angles, which Sirius knew had been cut perfectly to highlight his sharp figure. The other was one of the summer suits Sirius had requested, a sheer linen jacket and trousers in a similar silvery-blue colour as the waistcoat Remus had made him for his first suit. Remus was clearly an expert at his craft, despite being relatively young. It made Sirius curious about what other talents he possessed in which he was considered a prodigy, if not tailoring.

Not wanting to disturb the new stillness, Sirius slowly undressed himself. He carefully avoided his own reflection as he did so – for once refusing to acknowledge what lay behind cold grey eyes, unwilling to see what his bare skin would reveal to him this time. No, he wanted to focus on Remus’ suits, on the cooling gossamer silk shirts against his skin, the cling of starched material on his thighs. Sirius frowned down at his fumbling fingers, which were apparently set on shaming him yet again, as they refused to work the shiny new buttons into their holes. With a light curse towards his treacherous fingers, Sirius coughed lightly, and soft brown curls appeared around the partition followed by a beseeching look of someone ready and waiting to help.

“I… I’m having a bit of trouble with the buttons.” Sirius blushed, and a dangerous grin spread over Remus’ lips at Sirius’ not-quite request. Wordlessly, but still smiling, Remus came to stand in front of Sirius with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he torturously hovered over Sirius’ buttons.

“Can’t have that, can we.” Remus murmured softly, as he began fastening Sirius’ buttons from the bottom of his shirt, leaving his chest exposed to that heated gaze, “Perhaps I ought to make your next suit with a zip to save your poor fingers. Wouldn’t do to have you wandering around the House of Lords with your front exposed for everyone to see, all because you can’t do your own buttons.” Sirius’ face warmed at Remus’ words, finding himself unable to speak in his own defence. “Then again, I suppose you have people to do this for you at home, don’t you, Lord Black? Bet you have people lined up to respond to your every desire.”

The way Remus’ lips curled around the last word hung like a burgeoning threat between them, as the final button was fastened, but Remus’ hands remained in on his chest. Sirius was sure Remus must have been able to feel the way his heart was thudding perilously close to his skin, watching him with a challenge formed behind the depths of those brown eyes. Sirius didn’t realise he was staring until Remus’ tongue licked out to moisten the bitten skin of his chapped lips, dragging his teeth over and leaving his mouth lightly parted.

“Jacket!” Sirius blurted.

“Ah yes,” Remus’ smile grew as he stepped back, retrieving the requested item. “Can’t forget that. Arms up,” he instructed. Sirius complied, his blush only deepening at the slight embarrassment of being ordered about by the other man, even more so for finding it coaxed some stirring want inside him. He shivered at Remus’ warm breath brushing the back of his neck, as the jacket dragged over his shoulders.

“Perfect.” Came the salacious murmur in his ear. Sirius openly shuddered, completely beyond hope of hiding the effect that Remus was having on him. And then, as if nothing unusual had happened, Remus drew away completely. “So, I take it no adjustments will be needed?”

“N-no.” Sirius ground out, though he couldn’t deny his trousers felt a little tighter than they had previously.

“Excellent. Would you like to try the second suit, as well?”

“No, I’m sure it will be fine.” Sirius insisted, his voice returning to him with more surety. He needed to get out of there before he was tempted any further, before he could do anything indiscreet. Thankfully, Remus ducked around the partition once more, allowing Sirius to dress himself in peace before he re-emerged on the other side more composed than he had been since he had arrived. Clutching his suits, now carefully wrapped back in their bags and draped over his arm, Sirius lingered, hesitating. When Remus only gave a complying nod, Sirius was left by the entrance, dithering between speaking and leaving. Noticing his struggle with a bemused smirk, Remus moved to stand beside him, as if to see him off, but Sirius wasn’t ready to leave.

“As for the other suits, I’ll need the tux before New Year’s,” Sirius started, feeling compelled to drag out his time in Remus’ company, and still carrying a twinge of guilt from their earlier conversation, “but of course I don’t want to make you work over Christmas, so you can take your time with the rest. Just… just let me know when they’ll be ready.”

“You’re very kind, Sirius,” It was almost mocking – Sirius was sure it was meant to be another tease aimed at his heavy demands – but Remus’ voice was starkly sincere. And oh, Sirius didn’t think anyone had called him that before.

“And I’ve been meaning to apologise for how I acted when we first met.” Sirius started hesitantly. “I was a bit of a condescending prat, so… I guess what I mean is… sorry.”

“I’m really enjoying that word today.” Remus’ face split into a cocky grin, his gaze turning into something almost predatory when he added, “Sounds good coming from you.” Then – to Sirius’ utter dismay – Remus plucked at a strand of hair that had fallen loose over Sirius’ cheek, tucking it behind his ears. Sirius was trapped in that mahogany gaze, unable to move, unable to think, the heat of Remus’ palm ghosting over his cheek.

It was no good.

Sirius launched forwards and captured rough lips between his own. His mouth moved in reckless abandon, teeth dragging against the fragile skin of Remus’ lips, which received him ready and waiting. His mouth coaxed Remus’ open, sliding his tongue to taste inside. Then, in a motion as quick and desperate as the kiss itself, Sirius pulled away. They stared at each other in giddy amazement for a brief pause before everything started moving again.

“I-”

“Sirius it’s-”

“Thank you for the suits. Good evening.”

“Sirius-”

But Sirius was stepping onto the cold street before he could hear what Remus had to say. As he stalked back to where Frank had parked the car, he traced fingers over his still-burning lips. His whole body felt alight as he slipped wordlessly into the back of the car dropping the delicately wrapped up suits carelessly on the seat next to him.

“Time to go, Frank.”

Sirius’ heart shuddered with the motor as the engine sputtered to life.

Chapter Text

With the arrival of the holiday season, Sirius did his best to avoid the lingering memories of burning lips and dancing brown eyes, instead he kept himself busy attending all manner of social calls, festive occasions, and public appearances. The week before Christmas found him at the Prewett’s modest estate in Wiltshire. Sirius always found the Prewett’s Christmas get-together more than a little heart-warming. It was still abounding with gaudy frills and an excess of shimmering tinsel and baubles, but there was a cheerful warmth that exuded so unlike the primness of the society gatherings Sirius was used to. He found himself milling about the drawing room, examining the collectors’ editions lining the wood-panelled walls with superficial interest, while he clutched a crystal glass of spiced cider. There were a few others gathered around the room, engrossed in their own intimate conversations and the fireplace blanketed them in a hypnotic daze dancing off the red and silver baubles that lined the large tree at the centre of the room. It was one of two trees at the Prewett’s this year (the other was at the far end of their modest, but lively main hall) cut from their thriving Christmas tree farm that bordered their estate in the Burrow.

Before long, Sirius was caught up in conversation with Arthur Weasley, a local landowner and farmer. Sirius quite enjoyed conversations with Arthur, who was a frequent guest of the Prewetts. They seemed to have formed a collective fondness for the man, despite his slightly uncouth manners. The farmer, so oblivious to propriety and the gravity of Sirius’ standing, chatted away quite easily about this and that, without a thought to whether Sirius was entertained by it. It was refreshing not to be accosted by the simpering concern of those hoping to ingratiate themselves with that Noble and Most Ancient House by way of Sirius. Unlike others, Arthur never seemed to expect Sirius to take great care in being witty or charming or polite. Whether Sirius smiled or sneered, he rattled on with a cheerful demeanour and the occasional glance about the room.

That was another thing Sirius liked about the gentle farmer’s company. Though normally he would be indignant at not having a captive audience, it was endearing the way Arthur’s eyes flitted about mid-sentence, only relaxing contentedly when they found their destination. It was as if Arthur needed a reminder every now and again that Molly was there; seeing that she was well and enjoying herself comforted the besotted man. It was an open secret that the two had been seeing each other for a number of years and Arthur had been mustering the courage to propose. Only, every time he got close, the twins seemed to somehow blunder in and thwart his moment, as if they planned it. It was all in good fun, of course, but Arthur was slightly terrified of Molly’s hulking younger brothers, though he wasn’t a small man himself, and inevitably found himself further discouraged at each failed attempt. Molly, of course, gave her brothers a bitter lashing each time, but seemed endlessly patient as she waited for the right moment. Perhaps it would be tonight, Sirius thought, as he noticed Arthur’s hand twitch in a tell-tale reach for his breast pocket while he continued his effusive stream about his hopes for next year’s lambs.

As much as he found Arthur’s unbounded friendliness charming, Sirius was grateful to be rescued when he saw Gideon – or was it Fabian – Prewett approaching as Arthur moved onto the topic of the various combine-harvesters on the market and their relative merits. Arthur was less than glad, but he seemed at least somewhat relieved that the attention, at least for now, was on Sirius.

“Do excuse us, Arthur,” silky notes dropped easily from that chiselled jaw – ah yes, definitely Fabian. Sirius knew that silver tongue intimately. “I simply cannot allow you to keep Lord Black to yourself all night.”

“Of course, of course,” Arthur replied jovially, not in the least offended, as he made his escape, perhaps hoping for an opportunity while Sirius kept Fabian preoccupied “I, uh, haven’t yet thanked your parents for their invitation, I suppose I better…” and he trailed off as his eyes were already flickering over the room for a glimpse of Molly who had circulated somewhere else since he had last checked.

Smothering a laugh, Fabian turned his full attention to Sirius, examining Sirius’ figure with an appreciative lingering look. Sirius was wearing Remus’ perfectly fitted midnight blue evening suit, and had been drinking in the compliments, while doing his best to ignore the accompanying reminder that had him desperate to return to that quiet shopfront and drag Remus behind the partition to be ravished until suit and man alike were ruined. His agitation simmered under that neatly stitched lapel, where he could almost feel Remus’ lingering hand burning as if it could singe away the cloth right through to Sirius’ skin.

Fabian pulled Sirius from his wayfaring thoughts when he spoke again, “Glad as ever to see you out and about, Sirius. Though I must say, I was surprised you accepted our invitation. I heard Mulciber was throwing some lavish get together at his house in the Lakes.”

“My dear Fabian, I would hardly have dreamt of passing up the invitation when we all know that the thing I want most is right here.” Sirius spoke in his most enticing voice, all low and husky, pleased at the way Fabian’s eyes widened slightly in evident desire. Fabian let his gaze wander again over Remus’ handiwork admiringly and something uncomfortable twisted at his nape at the thought of a certain pair of mahogany eyes and their reproving gaze, as he flirted shamelessly with another man. Masking his concerns with an impish smile, he continued, “Now, where has your mother put those mince pies? I’ve been looking forward to them all year.”

Fabian burst out a hearty laugh. “Oh, Lord Black, you are a tease.”

“Well, if you come to me so blatantly fishing for compliments it’s hardly a fair sport.” Sirius straightened his back and broadened his smile, knowing that it never failed to win Fabian over, and attempted to push away all futile thoughts of Remus from his mind. Perhaps a little holiday fling would be just the thing to take his mind off those brown eyes that continued to haunt his every waking moment. Then again, perhaps not, Sirius felt the pinch in his throat as Sir Benjamin Fenwick approached, swinging an arm around Fabian, whose tall, broad frame dwarfed Benjy’s lithe one.

“A pleasant evening to you, Lord Black.” He said stiffly, though his charming smile betrayed none of the animosity of his gaze.

“And to you, Fenwick. How’s the family?” he nodded archly, a little smug when Benjy withdrew his arm sheepishly to scratch at the back of his neck and blushed at the mention of his wife and children, who were no doubt tucked away at his home in the Cotswolds.

“Oh don’t be a bore, Black,” Fabian groaned, in a good-natured attempt to dispel the frigid tension that Sirius had summoned. “Christmas is a time for fun. Let us have a little fun,” he cajoled with mock-puppy eyes, that forced Sirius to roll his own in playful reply.

“Oh, very well, Fabian. Have your fun. But keep me out of it. I want plausible deniability!” Sirius called, as the two men started away to their own cosy corner.

“That’s not what you said last year!” Fabian answered in a taunt over his shoulder, leaving Sirius to chuckle to himself.

Finding himself once again alone, Sirius returned to the main hall to freshen his drink from a gilded drinks cart that lay beneath the siding at the back of the hall. The cart stood to the right of shallow steps that led to the winding labyrinth of unusually configured rooms, tucked in the corner behind a tree adorned with decorations and piles of presents stacked beneath. Hidden there away from the crowd, Sirius felt his mask slip away a fraction. He looked out into the room with a delicate sip of his drink and admired the Prewett’s cosy hall.

Most of the room was lined with dark wood, warmer than his own marble halls, and the dark pinewood floor was covered in a large, faded rug, swirling with vines and floral patterns that Sirius had no doubt were once vivid with colour, and still brightened the room, even trampled beneath the feet of this modest gathering. No one danced, but the happy burble of light-hearted chatter and soft-hummed carols floated over the room to fill his ears, only broken by an occasional pealing laugh – Gideon, who could be heard throughout the house on a quiet day – rising above the regular din of the bubbling crowd. Red velvet curtains lined three walls of the modest hall and had been adorned with boughs of holly and mistletoe, hanging open to reveal windows looking out to frosted greenery on all sides. The Prewetts’ garden was mostly bare aside from a few bordered trims of flowers and hedges. But it was open. Some of Sirius’ few happy childhood memories were of the handful of times he had visited the Burrow as a boy with James, playing cricket on the lawn with Gideon, Fabian, and Molly when she refused to be left out of the fun simply because she was a girl. Sirius had soaked in the sun and laughter so unlike anything he knew from the lavish ornamental gardens of Grimmauld House.

Sirius’ attention was brought back inside the hall, where Arthur had indeed found Molly again, and she did her best not to blush as he was clearly building up to another proposal speech. Fabian and Gideon were close by though, so Sirius was hardly surprised when, as Arthur squatted into an almost-kneel, he was carted off by two pairs of strong arms, hooking under his own, before his knee even touched the ground.  Molly darted after the menaces, as they hoisted her would-be fiancé around the hall in a victory lap, and Sirius couldn’t help the hearty chuckle burst from his throat. Other guests looked on in amusement; none of the upper echelons of nobility would descend on the Prewetts’ at Christmas, so only those who allowed for joy and merriment had made the journey. As the commotion died down and Sirius’ laughter subsided, his own chest seemed to grow colder despite the happy company. Feeling suddenly exposed, he was overwhelmed with a sense of being underdressed, despite knowing he was layered to the nines in his finest silver and Remus’ design. He adjusted his suit, catching a reflection of himself in the ornate mirror that hung from the wall at the back of the room.

He was perfect. His eyeliner was thick but not heavy and highlighted the blue in those grey eyes that he loathed so much. He had painted his face with gold and navy eyeshadow and lipstick to compliment the midnight blue of his fitted suit. He was as handsome as ever, but as the cosy rustle of subdued murmurings filled the hall around him, creeping doubts edged back into his mind.

Dorcas swanned over elegantly in her sequinned green dress, rescuing Sirius from his rapidly churning worries. Without a word, she poured herself a generous glass of sherry, and stood beside him without acknowledgement, hip cocked to the side with a calf stretched out of the slit in her dress.

“Do you think it could ever be like this at Godric Hall?” The question ushered past his lips in a timid murmur, that almost went unnoticed. But from the sidelong look Dorcas gave him, he could tell she had heard.

“If you want it to,” she replied carefully after prolonged silence.

“I don’t think I’d even know where to start.” Sirius admitted. Every event he’d ever hosted had been ceremonious and proper. It didn’t help that he was always obligated to extend invitations to his sourest relatives and their political connections. No, the Blacks’ parties were never a merry affair. They were elegant, tasteful, and oozing with power and influence.

“It’s hard to build a home in empty rooms.” Dorcas said cryptically after another pause. Sirius looked over to her in confusion, but her cool features gave away nothing, as she sipped at her glass, staining it with a mauve kiss. Before Sirius could ask what she meant, James was strutting over, his bowtie flopping lazily around his neck, from where he’d undoubtedly gotten frustrated and untied it minutes after he arrived.

“Black, Meadowes, there you are!” James greeted in boisterous spirits and seized Sirius and Dorcas both, dragging them into a more prominent position in the room, apparently discontent to hide away with them in the sheltered corner beside the tree.

Christmas was James’ favourite time of year, and he always got a little too excitable with all the festivities. Sirius had no doubt James would be flitting from one event to another all week, culminating in the Potters’ infamous New Year’s party, from which no lord or lady truly ever recovered. “Now, I’ve got a little wager going with Gideon – he reckons he can jump from up there without breaking anything,” James indicated the balustrade that swept around the edges of the hall from the second-floor mezzanine.

“Excellent.” Sirius snorted.

“He’ll kill someone,” was Dorcas’ unamused contribution.

“Or seriously injure,” James nodded, too enthusiastically. “At least, that’s what I’m betting. So you in?”

“You’re waging money that Gideon is going to seriously injure someone?” Dorcas prompted, unimpressed.

“Well… I’m technically betting that Gideon will seriously injure himself. So if you wanted to wager on anyone else, the pool would be yours for the taking, Dorco.”

“Right, absolutely not. Where is the fool?” Dorcas extended her posture to its full height. Sirius, who hadn’t realised she’d been slouching slightly, was in awe at her full stature as she marched away with all the regal bearing of the Marquess’ daughter that she was.

“Nice one, James.” Sirius sniggered, as James at least had the decency to look ashamed of getting Gideon into trouble with Dorcas, a position that neither of them envied.

“Ah well, probably for the best,” James shrugged as they settled in to enjoy the scolding.

The two watched on in silence. Despite the entertaining display before them, with his heart floating light and easy at the sparkle of festive merriment of the Prewetts’ welcoming hearth, Sirius felt the clawing ache underneath his chest, beneath Remus’ expertly stitched shirt. Even amongst all the festivities, Sirius hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss, swore he could still feel the outline of Remus’ lips on his own, as once again, Sirius found himself being incited into restless disquiet remembering the taste of that infuriating smirk.

“I kissed him.” Sirius blurted, before he could help himself, his tongue looser now that he was on his third glass of the evening.

“Gideon? Isn’t he straight?”

“Not Gideon. Lupin.” He replied, softly, fear gripping him as he spoke the name. He kept his eyes pointedly on Gideon and Dorcas, feeling himself blush as James’ gaze snapped to look at him.

“Lupin?”

“Yes.”

“The tailor, Lupin?”

“Yes.”

“Welsh tailor, ye high,” a hand went up over their heads, “covered in scars, made the suit you’re wearing? That Lupin?”

“Bloody hell, James, how many Lupins do you know?”

“Right.” James turned back to the kerfuffle. Gideon was saying something with a cheeky grin that earned him several patters of outraged but ineffectual thwacks by Dorcas’ hands, which he blocked with his burly arms.

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, but you must have some opinion,” Sirius ventured carefully. Usually James would be teasing him by now, coming up with some sort of inuendo or crude joke, but this calm response had him on edge. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

“I’m… not sure I should say, Padfoot.”

“Well, what is it?” Sirius demanded, suddenly feeling defensive at James’ apparent disapproval. James was turned back to face the ballroom, but his eyebrows were drawn together in concern behind his glasses.

“You know I love you, Padfoot. But I’m sorry, I don’t think this is good idea… I think that Lupin is a good man, who’s been through a lot, and doesn’t deserve to be toyed with, when you’re... well, when you’re like this. Sirius, you’re just coming out the other end of this- this whatever it is. I know you never mean to be, but you must admit, you can be careless and I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to hurt Remus either. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Say what you really mean.” Sirius snorted, but it was weak, unsupported by the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs by James’ unexpected tirade.

“Sirius, I’m worried about you.” And Sirius felt the pity, the concern, the swarming guilt at his own actions, the heat rising in his chest.

When he spoke, he kept himself to a vicious whisper, not foolish enough to air his most private feelings even in welcome company. “And who says I’m the one toying with him anyway? Didn’t it occur to you that maybe Remus was just as much a part of this? That he might want me too? I suppose not. After all, who in their right mind would want me, would want anything more than a quick shag with Lord Black? Because anything more and they’d have to deal with this hideous mess-”

“Sirius, you’re not-”

“No, no, James. Don’t take it back now. It’s fine, I’m fine. I know who I am and you’re absolutely right. After all, I take what I want, never mind how anyone else feels. He’d be a laugh to play around with for a while, of course. And you know that I could never be serious, that nothing between me and him would ever be serious, because how could it be? He’s nobody, a country bumpkin, with his stupid hands and stupid face and that stupid, bloody smile.”

There was a pause as Sirius realised he’d said too much, but the anger was still rippling at the back of his throat, even as James’ expression softened into broad concern. The party continued to burble around them, oblivious to Sirius’ raw and sudden exposure.

“Sirius…”

“What?” Sirius snapped, but the heat in him died when James gathered him into an embrace, his glass caught between their chests, spilling a little on James’ suit when he squeezed in tighter.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were just messing about.” James murmured into his hair.

“Of course I am. I always am. Should have called me Completely Unsirius Black,” Sirius grumbled weakly, muffled by James’ shoulder, but his irritation had abated and he felt completely exposed at James’ acknowledgement of the thing Sirius had been refusing to admit, even to himself.

“Sirius, your mother…” There was silence. The two separated, Sirius feeling morose and, from the worry on James’ face, he was sure that his expression was as absolutely broken as he felt.

With a deep sigh and a heavy gulp of his drink, Sirius returned to watching the party, and his voice caught in his throat in a hoarse, whispered reply, “I know, James.”

Sirius quickly returned to smiling and laughing at Gideon’s antics, at Fabian’s flirting, at Dorcas’ coaxing him to dance, absurdly, to carols, but James’ face never regained its easy calm. And as Sirius drank the night away, he was once again filled with the heavy despair that was, after all, his birthright.

~~~

Sirius didn’t return to Lupin’s again before Christmas. He sent Frank to collect his suit for the Potters’ New Year party, and didn’t even remove it from the bag to check if it fit, before shoving it without ceremony into the bottom of his suitcase. The suit was all but forgotten in the boot of the car, as Sirius made the journey on Christmas eve to Grimmauld House. As his saloon drew closer to that desolate mansion, the fear engulfed him until he was submerged icy waves of dread. The cold trickled down his spine in a ghostly finger and dark clouds formed deliberate shadows over the sharp lines of the bleak stone façade. As he stepped out onto the driveway, the austere visage of Grimmauld House gripped at his insides, coiling him in chains sprung with heavy weights. Everything was grey. The sky, the paved driveway, the cold, dead grass, the towering gabled rooves that topped stark stone wings in a reaching expanse of rooms upon rooms haunted by grey memories. All thoughts of anything but fear and emptiness disappeared, locked somewhere safe within himself where they couldn’t be tainted by the cruel hand of Walburga Black. Without hope, Sirius let himself into the looming grey doors. He was home.

The following day, after spending secluded hours of unwelcoming loitering in any abandoned corner of the house where Sirius was sure he wouldn’t be discovered by his mother or brother, the rest of the extended family and their various guests arrived. Much to Sirius’ chagrin, Cecelia Greengrass and her mother, Lady Agatha Greengrass had also been invited and arrived in tow with Narcissa and Lucius, while Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange skulked behind with Bellatrix and her parents.

Christmas lunch was served by nameless rows of faces that Sirius didn’t recognise from the endless cycle of people under his mother’s employment. Sirius was amazed that there were still servants in the world willing to work for their family but, he acknowledged bitterly, there were few who couldn’t be bought by the Blacks’ enormous riches if they weren’t already seduced by the prestige of working for one of Britain’s oldest families (oldest, if his mother was to be believed). In dreary lines they trailed along the black-marbled floors, overshadowed by vaulted ceilings of glinting stone and enormous wrought iron chandeliers that could as easily impale a body as crush them with their weight if they fell. The dining hall at Grimmauld House was more like the hallowed nave of a church, but far more sinister, where the only congregation worshipped wealth and power. Along the grand length of the polished table, chairs spread sparse pronounced the distance between them as they each took their place, Walburga at the head, of course. The vacuous space ensured that any conversation was harshly discouraged, since its cavernous echo was likely to expose the speaker to all of Walburga Black’s infamous scrutiny. And none here were above it, save Walburga, who was unlikely to dispel the vast silence preferring to cast disapproving glares over her family as they ate, waiting for the hint of a weakness upon which she could latch her odious claws to decimate her prey. Christmas dinner, like any family gathering with the Blacks, was not unlike sitting down with a pack of jackals, their teeth sharp and eyes gleaming with vicious hunger, waiting to tear into Sirius not unlike the goose on the table. In the ringing silence, Lady Greengrass’ piercing voice echoed loudly when they were barely three bites into the appetisers.

“So, Sirius,” Came the squawking chafe of Lady Greengrass’ anaemic tones, “our Cecelia tells me you’re an exquisite dancer.”

“Years of practice, Lady Greengrass.” Sirius nodded, gracefully accepting the compliment, as he noticed the willowy young Greengrass beside him turning a brighter pink out the corner of his eye, her face turned meekly down to her food, so dissimilar to the way she had appeared at the Malfoys’. Regulus snorted. Sirius shot him a glare but was only stung himself when his brother didn’t meet his eye.

“Our Cecelia,” Lady Greengrass continued, “Was highly impressed with your sense of decorum. Didn’t he pay you the utmost respect, Lucius?” Lucius, not expecting to be addressed, looked up with a fearful gaze as he paled under the attention.

“My Lady, paying respect to one’s hosts is only proper,” Sirius answered smoothly, not as much to rescue Lucius, but to keep the conversation carefully controlled into territory that wouldn’t end with him shooting steam out of his own mouth. Though when Lady Greengrass, began once again “Our Cecelia”, his grip on the silverware tightened.

“Our Cecelia,” she persisted, oblivious to the swelling enmity in the room, not only from Sirius. Bella’s eye had begun pulsing that unnerving twitch, and Narcissa was gritting her teeth. Cecelia had given up eating altogether, simply staring down at her lap where her fingers clenched her skirts. “Has informed me that you will be taking up your seat in the House of Lords come the new year.”

Before Sirius could respond, Rabastan – who everyone knew had been eyeing up the vacant position with interest since Orion’s death – jumped in, “Actually, Lady Greengrass, nothing has been decided yet. The houses are still in deliberation.”

“I see. That is disappointing. Our Cecelia-”

“Perhaps,” Bellatrix snapped, apparently unable to stomach anymore of her toadying idiosyncrasies, “your Cecelia ought to keep her thoughts to herself. Not all of us are so endlessly fascinated with Sirius and his perversions.”

“Bella that was rude.” Narcissa hissed, almost inaudibly.

“Well they ought to know-” Walburga who had been watching the whole exchange with a threatening stillness, held up her hand to silence Bellatrix.

Sirius’ bones froze rigid into place, though he felt a slight breath of relief that the conversation had gone no further. The clatter of silverware on China once again took hold of the stifling atmosphere, and Lady Greengrass watched with that snooping look of intrusion, waiting for any further drama to unfold. But the conversation was over, for now at least. Sirius swore he saw Regulus unclench a little when it died down, but he still refused to make eye contact, engaging in a hushed conversation with Narcissa to his right. Lucius shifted uncomfortably every so often, and Sirius’ aunt and uncle simply acted oblivious to any interruption to the peace from their position at the opposite end of the table. It might have simply been his imagination, but when the servers came to remove their plates and apportion the roast, he could have sworn he heard the slightest quiver of an apology from his left. Looking down at Cecelia curiously, she did not acknowledge any exchange, so he simply shrugged it off as imagined or irrelevant. He hardly understood why she was there at all.

The dinner continued without further incident until the plates were swept away and the guests were ushered into their respective parlours. Sirius would normally be required in the West Parlour with his mother, Cygnus, and in previous years Orion. But with the absent patriarch, his mother seemed more lenient, preferring him to be out of her sight. Druella and Lady Greengrass retired to their rooms to powder their nose or some other excuse that passed as barely acceptable. Sirius would have much rather retreated to his fusty old chambers, but the good whiskey was kept in the East parlour, so he followed his cousins and their guests into one of the gentler rooms of the house. It was, like most of the reception rooms, wall-to-wall marble and pewter furnishings, but the burnt umber leather of the Winchester sofas leant an uncharacteristic cosiness to this rarely frequented corner of Grimmauld House.

Once settled, Bellatrix and Rodolphus took turns taunting Rabastan, who soured at every jab, while Narcissa and Lucius seemed in their own bleak world of hushed conspiratorial romance. Regulus, oblivious to anyone else in the room, rested on a piano stool, prodding aimlessly at the dust-covered lid that had been locked shut for over a decade since the last time he had attempted to play it. Their parents had been away, only to return earlier than expected. Hearing Regulus indulge in the ‘childish fancy’, they had sealed the grand and threw the key into a pond far down the back of the garden. Sirius had tried to dive in after it much later, once his parents were asleep, but he found no key and only fell ill for his efforts. Regulus never thanked him for the attempt.

Helping himself to a drink, Sirius didn’t bother to play host, and ignored Cecelia who was hovering nervously around him, apparently unable to seat herself.

“Got yourself a pet there, Sirius.” Bellatrix cackled, turning her jabs to her cousin – to Rabastan’s relief. A cool sneer curled over Rodolphus’ thin lips as he watched with interest.

“Careful, Bella. You’re projecting.” Sirius scoffed, his face a perfect picture of haughty disdain. Rodolphus scoffed, as if unaffected by the slight, but Bellatrix didn’t take it so kindly.

“Although isn’t she a little pretty for your taste? I thought you liked being the pretty one.” Came the sing-song rebuttal. Cecelia twitched nervously at the attention – Sirius couldn’t fathom when she had become so timid, not the vicious gossip who had met him for the Malfoys’ anniversary party, but a simpering mouse whom he somehow despised more. Her close-kept quiet was overbearing, like a tic he couldn’t shake.

“A compliment, Bella? How unlike you.”

“Merely observing that she’s lacking that certain… oh how would you describe it, beloved?” the affectionate term fell corrupt and bereft of meaning from that hateful tongue.

“Stubble?” Rodolphus drawled, earning a snicker from Rabastan. Sirius felt more than saw Regulus tense in the corner, while Cecilia’s blushing face snapped up in shock. Even Lucius and Narcissa were drawn out of their secluded mutterings, heeding the conversation warily. Sirius ignored them all, honing in on the threat with a disdainful sneer.

“I would be careful what you’re insinuating, Lestrange.” He addressed Rodolphus, but his gaze was fixed firmly on Bella’s. Her black eyes burned with an ecstatic triumph. That she had succeeded in her goading was evident from the barely concealed rage behind Sirius’ slipping visage, “I am the head of this family and it would not do for you to be spreading vicious slander and lies. I assure you, cousin, the consequences would be far worse for you, if this libel were to reach outside ears.”

“Yes, Bella, joking is all well and good among family, but we have company.” Narcissa whispered sharply. Sirius was not fooled to think this was out of any concern for his precious reputation. They would all suffer by association to the shame such a revelation would bring upon the House of Black.

“Oh, do take a joke, Sirius,” Bella cackled again, but her expression had soured. Sirius, refilling his glass, emptied it and poured it full once more before finally sinking into a slouch on one of the sofas. Cecelia finally took a seat next to him, perching conspicuously on edge next to his lounging limbs spread wide. Narcissa cast a searching glance over the two, only to turn away quickly when Sirius caught her eye and raised a cautionary eyebrow.

The conversation eased back into a steady rhythm, Rabastan going over to interrogate Regulus, Rodolphus and Lucius engaging in a terse political discussion, while Bella egged on any conflicting opinions, and Narcissa made a reserved attempt at small-talk with Cecelia. Sirius continued to ignore them all, draining glass after glass until half the bottle was gone.

“Sirius.” Regulus’ hushed rebuke could hardly be heard across the room when Sirius went to help himself to another glass. Finally, their eyes met, and Sirius only saw the cold admonishment that he was so used to seeing in his mother’s eyes.

“I suppose I’ll retire to my room, then.” He yawned theatrically, slipping the bottle into his grasp by his side. Regulus’ eyes narrowed.

“A-aren’t you staying, Lord Black?” The first words Cecilia had uttered all evening, other than paltry squeaks in answer to Narcissa’s bored questioning.

“Evidently not.” Sirius answered curtly, and without a glance back, he rounded the door up to his room, though it was barely past nine o’clock.

Sirius sprawled on the lumpy old mattress, depositing his procured bottle on the vacant pillow next to his head.  A sickly white glow spilled through rime-crusted windows onto the bare, musty floorboards that creaked beneath the weight of Sirius and precisely three items of furniture: the overlarge ancient bed, the faded black armoire that towered prominently in the middle of the wall, and a small, wobbly dressing table that at one time had stored Sirius’ first ever lipstick. He had proudly purchased the onyx black tube on a school trip at the age of sixteen, while James spurred him on (“it’s perfect for you, go on Sirius,” he’d said). He’d only managed to conceal for three months before Walburga found it and disposed of it. Sirius couldn’t remember where he had bought it, and had never managed to find that particular glossy shade of black again. Yet, as he tilted his head towards the dust-fogged reflection in the ornate antique mirror, he could almost see it on his own lips, dark and prominent against his skin. His mouth curled into a dissatisfied snarl at the absence of colour on his lips and in the grey room around him reasserted itself. Among the dismal furnishings, Sirius found himself longing for the warmth of mahogany and maroon walls and he soon found himself transported into distant, impossible fantasies.

Sirius’ wandering daydreams were interrupted when he heard a timid tap at his door. He didn’t answer, but the door creaked open regardless, and a waifish figure of a woman slipped through the gap. For a while she didn’t speak, and Sirius kept his eyes to the moth-bitten canopy of his bed, ignoring the unwanted intrusion.

“Lord Black, I do hope I’m not interrupting.” Cecelia was a vision of meek decorum, despite her invasive actions.

“You are.” Sirius snapped, not caring to soften the blow.

“Oh.” The disappointment was palpable and it grated over Sirius in that familiar sandpaper sensation. Cecelia continued nonetheless, “I was only coming to see if you wanted company.”

There was a hint of suggestiveness in her voice, and Sirius, intrigued and already feeling the effects of his inebriation, propped himself up on his elbows to observe the trespasser. He raised his eyebrows and the woman blushed a little, but returned his gaze with undisguised desire. The flesh beneath Sirius’ skin itched with absence. Once again not waiting for a response, Lady Cecelia wafted over to the other side of his bed, carefully setting the half-empty bottle on the dresser next to it, and perched on the mattress, her body half-turned away from Sirius in a pose that he suspected had been carefully practiced to look simultaneously meek and alluring as possible.

“You’re quite forward, aren’t you Cece. Aren’t you worried about what your mother might think?” but he coaxed suggestiveness into his own voice, enticed despite himself by the thought of a warm body to dampen the gnawing broken hollow in his chest. His head was light with a pleasant dizziness, though the start of a headache from the red wine he’d had at dinner was already hovering in the background. He’d done it before, slept with a woman. Once, before he had known better, once on a dare, and several times since for his reputation. He didn’t enjoy it, it left him feeling nauseous and ready to tear at his own skin, but he had done it. He could do it again in the absence of any future prospects. In the absence of brown eyes and smirking lips.

“My mother sleeps like the dead.” Came the brusque reply, a hint of the familiar sharp tongue returning, but her voice lowered again in an attempt at seduction as she continued, “And it’s not like we’re strangers here, Sirius. We might as well get used to each other now.”

Sirius didn’t like the way she spoke, as if their being together was some foregone conclusion that neither of them had any say in. Then again, perhaps it was, and he just didn’t know it yet.

“What are you proposing then?” Sirius skimmed over her form with a curious eye, from where he was still half-reclined on his elbows. She was pretty enough, though a little predictably so. More to the point, her personality was one of the most repugnant Sirius had the displeasure of becoming acquainted with.

“Surely you won’t make me say it.” She whispered, seeming almost frail in the way her voice warbled in porcelain notes. But Sirius was not fooled by this act.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re referring to.” A storm of anger crossed those delicate features. Oh, so Sirius had upset her now. In an indignant huff, she turned towards Sirius and pressed over him, attaching her lips to his. It was a dry and dispassionate kiss. Every movement felt mechanical and perfunctory. As Sirius’ elbows lowered in retreat, she followed until her body was draped almost on top of his, and gave a rehearsed hint of a moan. Bile crept into Sirius’ throat, but he obediently wound his arms around her waist, encouraging her further. Her performance was admirable, as she squirmed in his arms, her hands wandering to his hair and his collar, unbuttoning his shirt while she made noises of far greater pleasure than either of them were experiencing from the overdone kiss. She drew back with a glinting smile in her eyes, and Sirius’ arms fell limply by his side, his blank expression unchanged.

“Lord Black, I believe I’m overdressed. Would you be so kind…” Sirius’ eyes flickered disinterestedly down the body on top of his own, only then noticing that the buttons on the front of her blue cotton dress had already been partially unfastened since dinner. At the sight of the shiny buttons, a stinging reminder of calloused fingers on his shirt floated up to disturb boozy thoughts, bringing with it the memory of teasing mischief hidden behind brown eyes. In an instant, Sirius pushed her off, ignoring the hurt look, as he stood on the opposite side of the bed, regarding her coldly.

“Lady Cecelia, while I am flattered by your interest, I think we had perhaps better stop here. There are proprieties to consider, and besides this is a house full of guests. It would not do for your reputation or mine.” His voice came out calm and even, not betraying the violent upheaval threatening beneath his throat.

“Why, Lord Black,” She coaxed in way that Sirius assumed was meant to be flirtatious. “I never knew you to be such a gentleman.”

“Yet here we are,” Sirius stated blandly, not reacting as she crawled over the bed to trail a finger down his torso, only to stop short at his belt. He plucked her hand roughly up towards his chest, pulling her into a kneel in front of him and heard her breath hitch. “I must insist you return to your room, Lady Cecelia.”

Sirius stepped away, leaving her mouthing at the air, and then exited his room only to find himself face to face with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Regulus, all of whom had apparently decided to retire for the night and were on their way to their respective rooms. Sirius was taken by surprise, unable to think or act, before Lady Cecilia emerged from behind the door. With them both in a moderate state of undress, hair ruffled, and Lady Cecelia’s face still flushed, the evidence was irrefutable. Sirius gaped, unable to think up any suitable excuse, as Bellatrix’s face twisted into a triumphant sneer. Lady Cecelia’s blush deepened, and with a squeak, she seemed to scamper off towards the guest suites, leaving Sirius to handle the consequences.

“Enjoying our guest’s company, Sirius? I must say I’m surprised.” Bellatrix goaded. Sirius’ eyes flickered briefly to Regulus who was hunched behind the other two like a reluctant shadow, a scowl fixed onto his face.

“Keep your tongue in that hideous mouth of yours.” Sirius snapped.

“Oh, did she not do it for you? You still seem a little frustrated.” Bellatrix turned with a piercing cackle, dragging Rodolphus along with her. As she disappeared from sight, Sirius turned towards the bathroom down the corridor, but was surprised when he was kept in place by another hand.

“Sirius, what the hell are you playing at?”

“What? I thought this was what mother wanted. Looks like her little match-making schemes are working out just fine,” Sirius muttered bitterly without looking back to see Regulus’ expression. He could imagine it so vividly, but didn’t want to face the disappointment. Not from his little brother.

“Sirius you know better. It’s-”

“What? What is it now Reggie?” Sirius shook himself free of Regulus’ grip, and turned now with an impatient glare. He was right, he hadn’t wanted to see Regulus’ face. The disappointment, the anger, it was all there as Sirius had expected, but there was something sorrowful, the whisper of regret between them. Sirius tried to ignore it, doubling down on his own irritation to exude waves of anger. Sirius had lost all patience, eager to be alone, stomach still churning, still feeling that woman’s hands over his body where they never should have been, so he unleashed a torrent on his poor, unsuspecting brother. “What crime have I committed that will be added to the never-ending tally? What grave sin am I to be condemned for now? What else have I ruined?” Sirius spat out the last word and watched on in contempt as Regulus’ eyes grew wide in recognition for the flicker of a second before he recovered his aloof composure.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?”

“Just… be careful, Sirius.” It sounded a lot like concern, and maybe if he’d been less consumed with his own anger and disgust, Sirius might have hoped. But the hostile disdain in Regulus’ expression told Sirius better.

“Well I’m sure an illegitimate lovechild would put Mother’s uneasy mind to rest in any case.” He snarked, brushing off Regulus and the nudging guilt along with him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

And turning away again, Sirius marched to the bathroom without another word, locking himself in and he immediately threw up over the curved rim of the bathtub, the golden faucets taunting him with his own distorted reflection.

~~~

The week between Christmas and New Year’s continued under the numbing shroud of a liquor-fuelled daze. At night, Sirius’ sleep was fraught with fitful dreams, chased by visions of his father’s face and his mother’s eyes reflected back at him in dusty mirrors lining empty, grey rooms. During the day, wherever he turned some torment awaited him in those shadowed halls, whether it was Bellatrix’s taunts, Regulus’ indifference, or Cecelia’s persistent attentions. Cecelia had only become more irksome after the incident. Sirius did his best to evade her clinging attentions, but she was inescapable. He only need enter a room, and Cecelia would be at his side, blushing and demure, as if she hadn’t practically climbed him the other night.

Seeking a moment’s peace, Sirius entered the one place he had never been allowed as a child – Orion’s study. It was the same vast and austere room he remembered. Instead of warm wooden panels and rows of bookshelves, Orion’s study was lined with those same stark grey stone walls of the mansion’s exterior. The floor was black marble without a carpet in sight to soften the cold, harsh appearance of the bare room. Despite the filing cabinets and the large ancient bureau that took up the centre of the room, it was the same vacuum it had always been. The black hole into which his father disappeared and from which he rarely emerged. Now, it appeared bleaker than ever. The whole room had been draped in black, and a looming portrait stood in the centre of the room. Orion looked straight out of the canvas with his heavy-set brow and disdainful frown, eyes following Sirius as he paced around the room. Sirius did his best to ignore his father’s condescending glare as he paced, while his chest grew tight and his breaths quickened. Beset by the growing flood of panic, his fists struck out at the desk, the room shuddering at the impact.

“You are not unlike him, you know.” Sirius was taken by surprise by a low voice, not having noticed anyone enter. To his surprise, the soft-spoken words had come from his mother. It was not her usual scraping vitriol, but hidden in her cruel voice there was now something almost forlorn. If Sirius hadn’t known better than to think his mother capable of anything so weak as emotion, he might have felt something nearer to sympathy. Instead his blood chilled instantly and he froze over the desk, back still turned to the door from where his mother was undoubtedly watching him. “He used to pace just like that, when he was having a hard time at work.”

“A hard time coming up with new ways to siphon off the country’s wealth, you mean?”

“Careful, Sirius, that wealth has kept a roof over your head all these years. You wouldn’t want to sound ungrateful.” The calmly laced threat of her words still came out in an eerie guise of gentleness. “Besides, your father did not concern himself with such tawdry matters. Let the bankers and politicians decide the welfare of the country, he would say. The Lord of the House of Black does not curry favour or entertain petty dealings under the table. He is power, and nothing else. He never needs dirty his hand with unpopular decisions because those lower than him will make those decisions for him. It is true, we have ample wealth and political alliances, but these are not what makes the House of Black.” Walburga Black gradually crossed the length of the august chamber as she spoke, until he could feel her looming presence at his back. He shivered, compelled to face her, as she continued, impressing importance into her words, “The House of Black does not rely on such trivial matters. Those come naturally so long as there are those who understand and fear its power. As long as that power is ours, everything else bends to our will. That is your job, Sirius. Not the board meetings, not the parties, not any political designs that may take your fancy. Those things may sometimes be necessary, but they are all beneath you. The only thing that matters is power.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And do you know where that power comes from, Sirius?”

“Money?”

“Have you not listened to a word I said, Sirius?” Her voice rose harshly in rebuke, “Money cannot buy power. Power is not so easily won. It comes from our House, Sirius. It comes from being the Noble and Most Ancient family in all of Britain. It comes from centuries of history, of legacy built upon shoulders of your forefathers, it comes from reputation. That is where all of this comes from, where all of this ends. That is what matters.” Then she captured his chin between her grip, forcing his eyes to meet hers in a feigned display of motherly concern. “Oh, Sirius. Do not fret. We will mould you into the perfect Lord and you will see that it is all for the best.”

Sirius, perhaps disarmed by her unusual softness, or perhaps foolhardy with his consistent state of inebriation, asked a question he would have never before dared to ask her.

“What if I don’t want to, Mother?” And in less than a flicker, any pretence at her affection soured into cruel disdain.

“Want? Want,” she spat, “Sirius, what you want does not matter. You may be Lord Black, but do not make the mistake of thinking yourself important. Hundreds before you have held that name as hundreds will after you are long gone, like your father before you. You are nothing but a means to an end, a progenitor to continue the unending succession of this noble line. No single man is greater than this mighty House, but one weak link…” She trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the thought, though her eyes blazed at the unspoken suggestion. “Sirius do not misunderstand me. I only wish for your success; I only hope you will come to understand what is right. But Sirius, this family is bigger than you. You are nothing next to its power. Do not think for a moment that I would hesitate to ensure your end before I see this House brought to ruin by my own flesh and blood. Are we understood?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Very well. We shall put this matter behind us and have no more of your insubordination. Do you hear me, Sirius? I am offering you a blank slate; the opportunity to do what’s right. It is one thing, in your youth, to chase foolish notions and idle away your time in fancies. But the time for impertinence, indiscretions and experimentation,” she uttered the word with undisguised abhorrence, “is over. The time has come for you to settle down and secure your future, the future of the House of Black. It is time you own up to your responsibilities.”

Sirius was still trembling under the lingering cruelty of Walburga’s glare long after she had left the room. Weighed down by the endlessly unravelling chain of ancient ancestors, Sirius sunk to the cold, hard floor, curling in on himself and wishing for the nightmare to end.

Chapter Text

When the morning of New Year’s Eve rolled around, Sirius was up with the dawn. He didn’t spare a glance over his shoulder as Frank drove him away from the oppressive gloom of his family home.

Compared with the lifeless parody of shadows that was Grimmauld House, the bustle at Peverell Estate was evident the minute Sirius’ car pulled up into the drive. Servants traipsed to and from the main house, carrying silverware, bouquets and bottles. The last week at Grimmauld House seemed a distant nightmare once he arrived at the safety of the Potters’, but there was still the icy grip of his mother’s words clawing at his mind.

You are nothing but a means to an end.

Doing his best to banish all memories of the last week out of his mind, Sirius stepped out of his saloon. He dismissed Frank for the evening with a vague suggestion that he might return to join the party later if he was so inclined, then popped his head through the front door of the main house to share a quick, evasive greeting with Effie and Monty. He didn’t linger to answer Effie’s questions spoken with that tender motherly concern or allow himself to be scrutinised by Monty’s perceptive squint. Then he traipsed around to the converted barn where James had made his home. James still maintained that there was no need to move too far from his parents when he had everything he needed right there. He had his independence and his freedom and a homecooked meal anytime he wanted not thirty yards from his front door. He didn’t even mind that all his friends teased him for living like livestock in his parent’s barn.

To call it a barn, in fact, felt a bit ungenerous for what was, in reality, a sizeable house with several winding corridors of guest suites, not to mention Sirius’ designated loft. The disused barn (since Peverell Estate had long-since ceased being a working farm after Monty had sold most of the family holdings to invest in his lucrative cosmetics company) had been converted into a living space, first as an escape for teen Sirius and James during the holidays, then a permanent residence, when it became evident that James had no intention of using his copious wealth to invest in his own separate property.

Sirius didn’t utter a word when James answered the door, instead allowed himself to be pulled into his friend’s crushing embrace for what felt like a lifetime but was maybe a couple of minutes. Sirius fell into it without a sound and rested against his friend’s sturdy presence.

“Big week?”

“Big week.” Sirius sighed when they finally parted.

“Talk or sleep?”

“Sleep, please.”

“Right you are, Padfoot. Allow me.” James whisked his suitcase up before Sirius could pretend to protest, and led Sirius through the airy halls and up the stairs to the loft room that was Sirius’ usual lodging whenever he came to stay. “Your suite, monsieur.” James said with a flourish and a bow. Sirius strained a smile, and collapsed onto the familiar bed, staring up at the old band posters that were peeling away at the edges from the days he had spent escaping Grimmauld House in the Summer, running to James and making a secret hideaway for themselves away from everything. He had less and less need to come here since he moved to Godric Hall, but he was occasionally drawn back by the lingering nostalgia of childhood and preserved relics of lighter times.

James shut the door softly behind him, leaving Sirius to get settled and take a much-needed nap. He tried for a moment to close his eyes, to sink into the layered quilts beneath him, but still Walburga’s voice echoed in his ears.

Do not think for a moment that I would hesitate to ensure your end.

Jumping up from the bed with a huff of frustration, Sirius heaved his suitcase onto the vacant space to excavate the contents, digging out the folded suit last of all. He ran a cautious hand over the black material of the suit cover before hanging it over the full-length mirror. Which was how he ended up sat on the end of his bed, staring at the garment bag and refusing to unzip it. All the while, cruel words and vindictive smiles danced around in his mind.

Sirius stared at his unopened suit, motionless, for hours. He was only disturbed when James knocked at the bedroom door as the afternoon light was already fading to darkness. Sirius didn’t answer, but the sound of knocking brought him back into the present and he was once again confronted with the mysterious garment bag that he’d yet to open. It was his own Pandora’s box, threatening to reveal something inescapable that he would be helpless to undo the second he opened the zip.

Finally, forcing all thoughts of the previous week from his mind, Sirius stood and approached the concealed clothes. Once again he ran a hand over it, just shy of touching, and avoided the zip altogether. His body vibrated with excitement as his fingers hovered over it. He didn’t know when he’d begun holding his breath, but every nerve in his body was sprung tight with the suspended movement of his lungs. At last, with butterflies swarming his abdomen, Sirius peeled the fastening of the bag to reveal the suit underneath. It seemed like the world stilled around him. Everything was quiet, but his ears rang with his own thudding pulse like deafening waves of rolling thunder.

It was a burgundy velvet dinner jacket with dark lapels and form-fitting trousers. There was a row of shiny black buttons running up the sleeves of the jacket, and clipped under the collar was a small note. Sirius plucked it from where it was pinned, his fingers trembling at the thought of the last hands that had touched this small piece of paper. He stroked a thumb over the hastily scrawled words that read, “suggest wear with plain black shirt provided”. Then, in even smaller writing, scrunched into the bottom corner of the note, was a sentence that made Sirius laugh for the first time in a week: “Don’t worry, no buttons.”

And then his own laughter came back at him with force, as the longing he’d locked away for weeks came rushing back. How he wanted to return to that cosy, welcoming atelier and while away hours upon hours being consumed by that dark and hungry gaze. How he wanted to see Remus again. How he wanted to laugh openly at that mischievous sarcasm and feel the heat of his own blush under that teasing glimpse of a smirk. He even missed the aging bronze letters of ‘Lupin’s Sartorial’ outside the shop, the odd mismatched furnishings, and the flaking maroon paint.

Sirius hadn’t come to any conclusion in the time since they’d last seen each other. He knew he couldn’t avoid Remus forever, not with the sheer volume of suits he had ordered. But he didn’t know how he was meant to face that warm smile and not immediately melt into his arms. And it was so tempting. To fall, to let all his inhibitions and worries drip away and let himself fall and fall and fall. But he couldn’t do that. Sirius cycled through churning thoughts of that distant happiness and the all-too-real disappointment, not realising he had been crumpling the fragile paper between his fingers. Distraught, he pressed it with his hands against the dresser in a desperate attempt to flatten it out, and then stopped with a sudden groan when he realised how ridiculous it was to be attempting to preserve a hurried memo that no doubt had been intended to be read and then thrown away. But even after acknowledging his own ridiculousness, Sirius tucked the precious, half-crumpled scrap into the breast pocket of his new suit.

With extreme care, Sirius unravelled the rest of the suit from its hangers, finding the aforementioned black shirt tucked beneath. It was, as the note had said, a simple black shirt, a thin polo neck in fact, completely without any buttons or other fastenings that would render Sirius and his wastrel hands ineffective. A small smile laced with sadness found its way onto his face once again, as his chest swelled with fondness for the absent tailor. Shaking such thoughts from his mind, Sirius turned back to the tall standing mirror and watched a shaded imitation of himself dress in careful movements.

Sirius savoured the brush of smooth fabric over his bare skin, still burning with thoughts of the only other hands that had touched the fabric. It felt dangerously intimate, like a secret passed from Remus to Sirius, wrapped up in silk and velvet, and sealed with those skilful stitches, each one like a delicate kiss between the fabric. He knew he was overstating the significance that Remus placed on his work, which was likely humdrum and everyday to him. After all, Remus had no doubt stitched together hundreds of suits in his ten or so years of tailoring. It was absurd of Sirius to think that the seam of his clothes held any particular significance. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but shiver at the recollection of that intense gaze, imagining how deep eyes might follow the trail of thread with attentive precision, all the while thinking of the body it would be wrapped around. Sirius traced his fingertips over the clothes now cloaking his skin, wishing he could coax them into revealing something about the hands that made them.

Hours were spent tugging and pulling at his hair to get into the exact right position, undoing and redoing his eyeliner until it had that perfect effortless flick, deliberating over which shade of lipstick (since he stored about fifty spares of all his favourite colours at James’) would set off perfectly against the lovely fabric Remus had handpicked for him. By the end of it, he could already hear the steady murmur of guests milling and music humming beneath his feet and drifting through the windows from the ‘adult’ party in the Main House. Nevermind that everyone at James’ was well into their twenties. Tradition was tradition, so the grown-ups had their fancy, though equally notorious party held by Effie and Monty, while James held his own riotous bash at the barn, spilling out into the surrounding fields.

Sirius was late. More than fashionably so. But it was worth it. Looking himself over one last time in the mirror, he checked for any stray hairs or a thread out of place. He preened with a smug satisfaction at the perfect pairing of his gold snake ring, matching coiling studs that wrapped around the outside of his ear, and draping loops of various gold chains around his neck which shone against the black and burgundy. Sirius was a vision in red.

What you want does not matter. The reminder floated in to disturb his thoughts.

Sirius hesitated at the thought of finally joining the party. He had been almost entirely silent since arriving at Peverell Estate and there was now something intimidating about breaking out of his quiet bubble into the vibrant gathering below. Sirius returned to his suitcase, still upturned on the bed and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for: A dark bottle he had nabbed from the cellar at Grimmauld House on his way out. It was caked in dust, which ensured it was some horrendously expensive vintage that was meant never to be drunk, only to waste away for centuries and displayed so that any important visitors might be suitably impressed. There were several dozen bottles like that in the dank and dingy flagstoned basement; Sirius knew that a bottle here and there wouldn’t be missed.

Using the heel of his gold-patterned oxfords to cushion the glass, Sirius hammered the bottle against the wall until the cork came loose. Tugging it out with his teeth – in a manner that would have his father turning in his grave – Sirius spat the cork out onto the floor and wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle, taking long, deep gulps. The smooth oaky bouquet soothed the subdued panic simmering in his throat and lungs, and within twenty minutes he’d made his way through more than half the bottle. He watched himself in the mirror as he drank and a heady buzz began to set in. Emptying the rest of the bottle into a small hip flask that fit neatly into the pocket of his new jacket, he turned to face the mirror in full and glared himself down, wishing that the colour of his suit would paint itself into his irises and banish that spiteful grey into the voids of his pupils.

“I’m fine.” He told the mirror, not allowing himself to think of another pair of grey eyes with their searing disappointment. “I’m fine.” And he almost believed it. Taking one last glance over at the velvet tuxedo hugging his form, Sirius returned once more unto the breach.

Sirius stalked into the party, fortifying himself with smug satisfaction as countless eyes flickered towards him in intrigue and desire. He couldn’t remember now what he had been afraid of. After all, this was what Sirius was used to – the covetous admiration of his high society peers (or as close to peers as he was likely to get).

James came to meet him in the centre of the room with a warm arm over his shoulder and a clap on the back, inciting jealousy in their onlookers. “Sirius, mate, I was starting to get worried.” He gave Sirius an admiring up-and-down once over, “Another of Lupin’s?”

Sirius nodded, some of his smugness wilting at the reminder of the tailor. James clearly noticed, because he handed Sirius a drink, and dragged him over to where Dorcas and Alice Fortescue were chatting to Emmeline Vance. All three ladies were in fabulous form, wearing glittering ball gowns with tastefully layered jewels adorning their necks, ears and wrists. James, too, had pulled out all the stops, wearing a simple ivory tuxedo that Sirius speculated might also have been made by Remus. But perhaps he was simply searching for signs of the tailor everywhere he looked.

“Oh Sirius, darling,” Emmeline simpered, kissing him on both cheeks in greeting, “Lovely of you to join us. Fashionably late as ever.” She too, cast an appreciative glance over Sirius’ figure. “And I can see why – you look stunning, must have taken hours.”

“All day apparently,” James snorted, “hasn’t left his room since he arrived this morning.”

“It takes work to look this good, darling.” Sirius grinned, hiding behind his joking façade. He downed his glass, ignoring the suspicion that glimpsed over Dorcas’ expression as she watched him. The others seemed oblivious to it, and paid no attention as Sirius plucked another glass of champagne from a passing server and downed that too.

“Anyway, as I was saying, you simply must come up North,” Alice continued addressing Emmeline and Dorcas, after all the usual pleasantries had been exchanged. “We so rarely have visitors in Banbury hall, and mother always says I could use the company.” Alice rolled her eyes in a bitten mocking of her fussy mother’s concerns. “Mummy says I’m not properly socialised.” She said in a mock-childish imitation of the old woman.

“We’ll have to all take a trip up one day soon.” James offered eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as he ran a hand through his hair, which up until that point had been combed flat on his head. “I’ve heard it’s excellent shooting.”

“Ah yes, and we all know what a wonderful hunter you are.” Sirius smirked to a subdued titter as he and their friends exchanged knowing looks.

“It was a deer! They have those eyes!” James protested as his friends’ laughter grew.

“Whatever you say, Prongs.” Sirius grinned, patting his friend on the shoulder, as James hmphed in benign indignation.

“Well at least I don’t scare them all off with my massive feet, Padfoot.”

“My feet are not massive!” Sirius exclaimed, drawing the attention of more than a few around them. Emmeline coughed purposefully and Dorcas raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Um, actually, you two aren’t invited.” Alice interrupted, still with the hint of a chuckle, “This is a girl’s only trip.”

“Oh.” James looked genuinely downcast at this revelation, and Sirius was immediately at his side, with an arm wrapping around the sagging shoulders.

“Ah, nevermind, old chap. We’ll have our own special trip, just the two of us.” Sirius consoled, turning his pout to the women. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes, while Emmeline and Alice shared another giggle at the dramatically morose boys.

“What about another trip, for all of us?” James bounced back with unbridled hope that drew further amusement from the others. Sirius let his mind wander as the chatter carried on and the others went on to plan a fishing trip to Norfolk where Emmeline had invited them to stay at a property belonging to one of her aunts. Sirius put in a comment here and there, when he felt he could contribute something witty or entertaining, but for the most part his mind was elsewhere. He buried nagging reminders of the previous week, and instead focused on imagining something sweeter. He imagined turning to see a pair of brown eyes across the hall, imagined rough hands slipping over his arm, imagined kissing smirking lips at midnight and never wanting to stop. As his lips began to prickle with absent heat at the memory of another kiss, one that hadn’t been imagined, he raised his glass to his lips, relishing in the cooling sensation, only to realise he was drinking from an empty flute.

“Top up anyone?” He asked suddenly, cutting Emmeline short in the middle of attempting to once again explain the problem with their capitalist society to an audience with varying levels of interest, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll take another gin and tonic if you’re offering,” She purred, and held out her empty glass to Sirius.

“It would be an honour,” he winked with that debonair grin of his, and took the empty glasses, setting them on a tray drifting past before he made his way to James’ bar, currently being tended by James’ usual man for these events.

“Alright, Fletcher?”

“Very good, Lord Black, yourself?”

“Good, good,” Sirius answered absently, usually up for latent exchanges with the slightly improper bartender, but his mind was too preoccupied for the exerted small-talk.

“A whiskey sour and a gin and tonic, please. Actually, make that two whiskey sours.”

“Right you are.” Nodded the bartender, taking the abnormally untalkative Sirius in stride. Sirius drummed his fingers along the bar-top absent-mindedly while he waited for the drinks and looked around at the spectacle.

James’ barn was light, airy and full of fun, always, but on this night in particular when the floating notes of upbeat swing music wafted into the air from the grand piano on one side of the large open reception hall. It was a tableau of brightly-coloured silks and happy faces, many of which he recognised from their school days – from this or that sports team that James had captained, from university, or from ancient family friends of Effie and Monty’s. But there were still a few new faces here and there. Not that Sirius cared enough to go and introduce himself. He was certain that anyone worth knowing was already well-acquainted with himself. Then he thought about how a year ago he’d never even heard the name Remus Lupin, and wondered if perhaps he had been too comfortable in his social circles, never venturing much beyond James and Dorcas. Even Alice and Emmeline, he only knew through those two. Perhaps he was comfortable, but perhaps he was so used to people only wanting him for his money and influence. James and Dorcas were like a natural vetting system. Anyone who made it through them were probably worth a second of Sirius’ time. And the rest? Well, Sirius had learned the hard way not to place his trust in the wrong people.

His mother’s voice returned again: This family is bigger than you… you are nothing next to its power.

“I can make them again?” Fletcher’s nostrils flared in panic, seeing Sirius’ heavy frown at the drinks that had meanwhile been placed in front of him. The bartender began to fluster about with another glass, pulling Sirius from his thoughts.

“That won’t be necessary. These will do just fine.” Sirius spoke sharply to stop the bartender’s anxious bustling. “Thank you.” He added. Fletcher gave him an odd look, but shrugged and moved on to another thirsty guest.

Sirius downed his first drink before returning to the others with his second drink and Emmeline’s gin and tonic. It wasn’t long before Sirius returned to his usual role, the life and soul of the party, kicking back drink after drink, wine, champagne, whiskey sour, dancing with Dorcas and James and really anyone else who seemed interested. And that was before he set off the confetti canons he’d discovered in James’ billiard hall and started dancing on the tables.

~~~

An indeterminate while later, Sirius found himself over by the grand piano among a small group. James was talking. Sirius could tell that James was talking. His lips were moving, his hands flying about in wild gestures – James always liked to talk with his whole body – and his cheerful gaze flicked eagerly between Sirius and the other guests around them. James was talking to him. Sirius frowned and tried to get his ears to stop buzzing long enough to focus on the man in front of him.

“Isn’t that right, mate?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Sirius found himself replying with a laugh, familiar enough with James’ cues that he knew exactly how to respond even if he didn’t have a clue what he was responding to. It seemed to work, and James chatted on happily, as Sirius faded out of focus again. He turned his head this way and that, trying to remember how he had got there, who he was with, what he had been doing before. He remembered dancing on the table. He remembered pulling Dorcas up to join him. He remembered giving her a cheeky snog that was mildly alright followed by a sly wink and Dorcas’ fond eyeroll. He had a vague recollection of plucking a glass from the precariously constructed tower, only to send the decorative fountain crashing to the crowd, dousing himself in a deluge of champagne. Uproarious applause and laughter had followed, but Sirius couldn’t remember any image to go with it. His vision was blank, and then he was over at the bar, with a towel around his right hand, and a bottle of whiskey in his left. The stinging cuts had grounded him for a moment, but then he’d drunk more and the pain had numbed. Now he was standing next to Caradoc Dearborn, who was throwing him sultry looks across drifts of James’ conversation. Sirius looked about the room and caught sight of Dorcas dancing with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Emmeline was in deep discussion with Xenophilius Lovegood (looking as eccentric as ever in his orange and green pied top hat and tails), and Alice had disappeared altogether.

Next thing he knew, James was gone and Sirius was being guided by Caradoc outside beneath a sheltered overlook at the far end of the barn. It was quiet there, the noises of the party dampened by the doors that shut behind them. Out in the field, Sirius could barely make out the shape of another couple who had sought privacy behind some hedgerows, but seemed not to realise they were still in view of the house. There was a low light coming through the curtained windows behind them, and the silver wash of the full moon that hung low and large over the hillock rising behind Peverell Estate. He was unsure why he should be struck with melancholy by something so beautiful, romantic even.

Caradoc was murmuring something to Sirius, watching him with anxious green eyes. Sirius blinked back without recognition of what was being said or done. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. And where was James? Then Caradoc was leaning in.

Before Sirius knew what he was doing he shoved Caradoc away with too much force. Caradoc landed backwards, sprawled on the ground, but managed to put his hands out behind him to break his fall. He lifted his hands to inspect them and grimaced at the gravel-chipped marks on his palms before turning his glare up to Sirius.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius blurted, rooted to the spot, similarly examining his own hands, which seemed to have acted of their own accord.

“What the hell, Black?” Caradoc demanded from where he now was on the ground. “If you’re not up for it, just say so. No need to throw a fit.” He rose to his feet, brushing the dust and gravel off his navy suit with a frown and a huff.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius stammered again, still unsure of what had happened, still unable to move or think, but he could feel the panic rising in his own voice. It earned him another scathing glare from Caradoc.

“Whatever.” Caradoc muttered and moved to return inside, but he turned back to Sirius, “You’re not as amazing as you think you are, you know. I know you think you’re better than the rest of us, but it’s going to get old very fast, Black. You can’t keep up this perfect image forever.” Then he left Sirius to the cold moon and the empty night.

Do not make the mistake of thinking yourself important.

He hadn’t realised how cold it had gotten outside until he was alone. The chill seeped under the sleeves of his suit and wrapped in tendrils arounds his arms and torso. The air found its way to singe his lungs, smoked with the residual fumes of a few early fireworks.

He reached into his pocket for the small flask of wine and took a deep swig. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Sirius looked down at his body, tempted to spill the flask’s contents over the burgundy velvet to see if it would stain or if the colour would blend right into place in the wine-coloured fabric. But he stopped himself, thinking of the hands that had pressed the material, carefully pieced it together. Thinking of the strange man, the nobody, who had barged into Sirius’ life out of nowhere and made Sirius want more. Made him want to be more, but not for the sake of the heavy expectations to which he had become accustomed. Not the way that his mother was always demanding more. Not the way all those people – all the nameless faces and the faceless names – expected more. Expected everything and nothing from him all at once because he was the Lord Black. Expected him to be perfect. Expected him to know better than to drink himself into oblivion. Expected him to fail. Expected him to buy his way out of any problem he faced. Nevermind the exertion that went into effortless charm and undeniable beauty that had every man and woman swooning after him, nor the secrets weighing on his chest, nor the fear that followed him and whispered cruel thoughts into his mind as he tried to sleep. Nevermind any of that, because no matter what he did or said, no matter how he tried and failed, no matter the chains and ropes he dressed himself up in, it was never enough. Sirius would never be enough. Not for them, not for anyone. His mother had been right: He was nothing.

So Sirius returned to the bar, ducking to avoid James’ searching gaze, and demanded more. One more drink. He peered into his glass – knew it wouldn’t take much more to numb the throbbing ache beneath his skin. With a few sips, the lingering dregs of inadequacy would vanish and he would be his usual self, his happy, entertaining, charming young self. The self that his friends loved. So Sirius drank deeply from his glass, then a second and a third, until he altogether lost track of how much he’d consumed.

The remaining hours before midnight drowned in a cloud of fog as he staggered from the dizzying concoction of alcohol and endless spinning. He held himself steady against the bar, ignoring the swaying room and the nausea twisting at his gut. Sirius blinked and the room blurred double, before snapping back to a single image. The sound in the room became garbled and thinned for a moment, then the heavy bubble of noise burst into general chatter again. It felt… warmer, hot even, going by the single line of sweat trailing its way down his nape. Despite the drinks he continued to tip back, there was a dry tickle in his throat that wouldn’t go away, and the room continued to fade in and out of focus until dark circles trimmed the edges of his vision. He could only focus on staying upright as everything spun in a kaleidoscope of burgundy and gold. Sirius stumbled down the hall to the guest bathroom and was immediately confronted with the unrecognisable image of himself, sweaty and pale even beneath the heavy make-up.

In the glass of the mirror, sinister faces danced clouds of grey around his pupils, the cruel mocking gaze of his cousin, the viperous grip of Cecelia, the supplicating faces of dozens of nameless sycophants. Then it was James and Dorcas and Emmeline and Caradoc and they were all laughing, but they were laughing at him. Laughing at the charade of perfection that Sirius Black pretended to be. And he begged them to stop. Begged for those cruel grey eyes to leave him alone.

You are nothing… you are nothing… you are nothing…

It played in a loop over and over again in his mind. Cecelia’s body on his, Bellatrix’s mocking sneer, Regulus’ disappointment reflected back in his own grey eyes.

The ever-present urge to break his reflection resurfaced, and this time, inhibitions freed by his heavy intoxication, he didn’t hold back. Sirius’ fist crashed against the glass, shattering the mirror into a hundred tiny shards. Then he kept going. He struck again and again and again as anguished shouts wrenched from his throat.

“Sirius!” he heard the gasp as the door burst open. Sirius whipped around, panting heavily, and then saw the fear in James’ eyes. He knew how he must look, surrounded by broken glass, blood dripping down his freshly-bruised knuckles, struggling to stand.

In a split second, Sirius pushed past James, and without turning back to acknowledge the destruction, he fled out of the bathroom and down the hall, blood soaking into the velvet red of his suit where he cradled his bruising fists. With Frank off duty for the night, he was forced to hail one of the loitering taxicabs, slamming the door behind him before James could catch up to him.

The chorus of people counting down to midnight faded into silence as the taxi drove away.

~~~

He continued to tip back the contents of his flask throughout the drive. Eventually he calmed until the din in his head became a droning lull, no longer taking the shape of voiceless taunts. Instead, one single idea occupied his mind: He needed to see Remus

When he next came back to his surroundings, he found himself being deposited on a familiar cobbled street. He must have given the taxi Remus’ address, despite the fact that he was in no fit state to be wandering around rural Wales alone. Still, he was confident that he could at least find Remus’ shop under the glow of Christmas lights lining the rooves of the shops along the street. He was sure it was right next to the bakery, or was it the jewellery shop…

After several laps up and down the street, during which he skidded several times and nearly fell flat on the icy pavement underfoot, Sirius finally managed to locate the narrow shopfront of Lupin’s Sartorial.

“Remus!” he called, pounding his fist against the atelier’s entrance, not caring if the racket disturbed anyone who might have gone to sleep since the new year began. “Remus! It’s Sirius, let me in!” As an afterthought, remembering Remus’ penchant for manners, he added, “Please!”

Sirius continued shouting into the night, whiskey breaths forming clouds of condensation as he called into the window, peering in for a glimpse of light. Of course, there was none. Sirius paused in his commotion, considering for a moment that perhaps Remus was with relatives or friends for the new year. He paced in front of the shop, bringing the back of his hand up against his mouth as he deliberated the situation he had gotten himself into. Realised that perhaps he had come, shit-faced and alone, to an abandoned shop in rural Wales with no phone and no way of getting home. Sirius pounded harder on the door, his shouts becoming desperate. He was put out of his misery and newly spiralling panic, when he saw a faint blink of light towards the back of the shop, washing over the room as the heavy door at the back opened to reveal a framed silhouette.

“Remus,” Sirius breathed in anticipation, no longer needing to shout for Remus to hear. Everything within him calmed at the sight of that man.

As Remus drew towards the door, his face came into view. He looked bleary-eyed and a little disgruntled, but Sirius didn’t take notice, preoccupied with finally being able to see him again. Eyes wide and hands pressed eagerly against the glass of the door, he watched Remus struggle with the lock. Finally it opened. Remus paused for a moment as he took in Sirius dressed in his velvet suit and a flicker of want passed over his expression.

“Sirius what-” Remus started, but before he could finish, Sirius was clutching at his shirt and pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss.

After a moment, Remus melted, leaning fully into the kiss. Sturdy arms wrapped around Sirius, steadying him as Sirius clumsily backed them further into the shop, toppling a few mannequins on the way as both men struggled to keep their footing. Sirius’ hands traced fervently over Remus’ chest and arms, pressing into him as they finally hit a wall. Remus returned his impatient touches, sliding his hands over Sirius’ waist using the leverage to pull him closer. Sirius reached into Remus’ tawny curls, and the other man gave a light moan at the touch, before pulling away slightly to catch his breath. And then he paused, loosening his hands to rest on Sirius’ hips. Sirius and Remus’ eyes locked in hungry fervour, both breathless and taking a minute to return to reality. Sirius leaned in again once he had caught his breath, but Remus’ hands came up to his chest, pushing back with enough resistance to keep him barely out of reach, though his eyes were still watching him with a dark expression.

“You’re drunk,” he whispered, breath ghosting on Sirius’ lips.

“M’not.” Sirius lied. “Kiss me, Remus.”

And then Remus groaned, no longer keeping his voice low, and the disgruntled expression returned to his face, as he pushed Sirius away, stepping around him and reaching for the light switch. Sirius blinked grumpily as the eclectic fittings flickered on. In the full light, Sirius could clearly see Remus’ still-sleepy expression, threadbare cotton pyjamas, and his hair ruffled, presumably from a combination of his pillow and Sirius’ hands. Remus frowned at the mess around him, moving to tidy up the mannequins, and now Sirius saw they had in fact knocked over a tray of buttons in their hasty movements.

“Shit!” Sirius hissed, ducking to his knees to help collect up the tiny, scattered discs, only to lose his precarious balance, and collide headfirst with Remus. “Shit!” he cursed again. Remus gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing his forehead from the recent impact. He gave up trying to tidy, instead standing and helping Sirius to his feet. Sirius savoured the touch, overcome with disappointment when Remus took it away again.

“Sirius, what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you.” Sirius mumbled with a light slur, and leaned in for another kiss, which Remus dodged easily.

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Came the wary response.

“Don’t you want me Remus?” Sirius ignored the stinging at his chest, imploring with his best puppy-dog eyes (that he knew from experience with James, were highly effective). Remus didn’t answer, but looked him over, noticing his hands and the general state of him and sighed, apparently taking pity.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius shook his head lightly, the room swimming around him as he did so.

“Did Frank bring you here?” Again, Sirius shook his head and focused on staying upright.

“Taxi.” He stated. Remus sighed. Locking his shop door he started steering Sirius towards the back, flicking off the lights on their way.

“C’mon. Let’s get you upstairs.” He murmured, and his low voice reverberated in Sirius’ chest, as he allowed himself to be guided up the narrow staircase.

“Am I being permitted entrance to your supersecret lair?”

“It’s not a lair, Sirius,” Remus sighed, yet again, as he fumbled up the stairs herding a helpless Sirius along with great difficulty, “It’s my home and you need to behave yourself. I’m just going to have a look at your hands.”

“You like my hands?” Sirius perked up, already having forgotten the cuts and scrapes from earlier that evening. Too impatient for Remus to reply, however, he gushed, “I like yours. They’re so lovely and soft and feels good when you- and the buttons- when you, you know…” Sirius moaned, happily noting Remus’ pretty blush as they finally made it to the top of the stairs. Remus, fumbling for the handle while holding Sirius with most of his body to stop him falling down the stairs, barely dodged another of Sirius’ advances. Then Sirius fell abruptly on his arse, as Remus finally got the door open and dropped him mercilessly.

“Ouch.”

“Serves you right.” Remus grumbled without malice, and then he was shuffling over between the cabinets and the sink, while Sirius dazedly took in the room around him. It was an eddy of turquoise and sage floating in front of his eyes as Sirius turned his head this way and that. Everything in the poky flat seemed subdued, nothing like the burst of colour he had come to associate with Remus and his brilliant designs. Sirius attempted to stagger to his feet to get a better look at the whole place, limited as his view was from nearly underneath the table, but he tripped on the chair, making Remus leap over to catch him before he tipped the whole table.

Sirius snuggled drunkenly into Remus’ arms and Remus pushed him back, keeping him at arm’s length. Remus’ head dipped between his arms as he muttered something, possibly not English, under his breath. Holding him steady, he only let go once he was satisfied that Sirius could stand upright without toppling over again, and then folded his arms against his chest, with stubbornness set on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Remus asked again, now watching him sternly, like a teacher scolding a child and waiting for some sort of explanation for errant behaviour. Sirius was familiar with that look, but he had never before found it quite so appealing.

“Wanted to see you…” Sirius repeated in a bashful murmur, averting his eyes under Remus’ scrutiny.

“At – Christ, Sirius – at two a.m.?” Remus groaned again. Sirius longed to go back to when a moan had come tumbling from those lips instead.

“I needed…”

“What, Sirius. What could you possibly have needed in the middle of the night? I’m not even supposed to be open at New Year’s for goodness’ sake!” and again he went off to rambling in incoherent mumblings, at which point Sirius realised he was either very drunk, or Remus was cussing him off in Welsh. Possibly both.

And then suddenly, whether because of Remus’ admonishments or the alcohol overflowing from his veins, Sirius couldn’t stop the tears that began streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh bloody hell,” but Remus’ voice had lost all its bite, entirely replaced with concern. Then, almost begging, he continued, “Sirius, please don’t cry.”

“I’m s-sorry, give me a sec- I’ll…s-stop,” Sirius stuttered out in frustration as he attempted to compose himself, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes to stem the steady flow of tears. He held out a hand in an ineffectual defence to shield Remus from his own ridiculous behaviour. Despite his best efforts they kept coming, and Remus crumbled, pushing past the outstretched hand to gather Sirius up in his arms. Sirius folded into that gentle hold, and allowed himself to soak Remus’ shoulder. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, and moments passed by in flashes after that, but at some point, he ended up in one of the rickety wooden kitchen chairs, where he sat with his elbows on the table, hiding his face behind his hands. Remus pulled up the other chair, bringing it close to Sirius. Their knees brushed lightly as he leant forward to pull Sirius’ hands away from his face.

“Hey,” he whispered gently, ducking to try and meet Sirius’ lowered eyes. Remus kept a hand over Sirius’, his thumb absent-mindedly brushing in a soothing motion over his sore knuckles, “it’s going to be okay, Sirius. I’m here, alright?”

“Sorry, I’m being stupid. I shouldn’t have come here like this. And now making you feel bad for me, I’m a prick.” As Sirius berated himself, Remus made soft shushing sounds, denying the harsh words. The tears finally subsided, but he had no doubt he looked an absolute sight, probably all red-faced and tear-stricken. With a weepy grimace he finally looked up. “Not very attractive, is it.”

“You’re lovely,” Remus murmured, “and you don’t need to apologise. Obviously I’d rather you didn’t turn up in the middle of the night, but I’m sure whatever it is isn’t stupid at all.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Well I was about to give you a bloody good bollocking, but I can’t very well do that when you’re already this upset.” Remus huffed lightly, bringing up his free hand to brush the hair away from Sirius’ eyes. He gave a faint smile as Sirius snorted, but said nothing further.

Remus removed his hands, leaving a cold vacancy where tickling heat had been, and began shuffling around the kitchen in Sirius’ periphery as the moments passed in near-silence, while Sirius reluctantly dried his eyes on the corner of his black shirt, already missing the feeling of Remus’ closeness.

“Here, drink this.” Remus said finally, placing a steaming mug in front of Sirius’ folded arms, sitting back down beside Sirius, “trust me, you’ll feel better.”

Sirius did trust Remus. But as the faint wafts of sugary cocoa drifted towards Sirius, he couldn’t help but raise an amused eyebrow to the serious man in front of him, who met his gaze with a curious look.

“Hot chocolate, Remus? Really, how old are you.” He mumbled, his voice still throaty with his recent tears.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Remus huffed, but fondness peppered his indignance, “I didn’t realise there was an age limit on hot chocolate.” Then Sirius frowned, because it was his mother who had told him at the tender age of nine that he was too old to be making hot chocolate for himself and Regulus.

“Hey,” the concern had returned to Remus’ expression as he pulled Sirius back to the present, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh s’nothing.” Sirius muttered, but he couldn’t muster a smile as he stared dismally into the steaming sweet drink beneath his nose. There was a longer pause, and Sirius felt his mind drift off in a liquor-induced fog, but before tormenting thoughts could return, Remus started speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.

“A lady from London came into the shop a couple of weeks ago.” Sirius’ brow twitched in confusion at the sudden change in conversation, and his gaze drifted away from the middle-distance, finally settling on mahogany eyes. It was grounding, it was safety, it was comfort. Sirius felt his mind washed clean under that warm gaze, as Remus continued his story in his soft-singing voice. Remus’ accent was stronger now than it usually was in the shop, whether it was a subconscious decision when he was dealing with customers, or because he was sleepier now, Sirius didn’t know but he was desperate to find out. “She was looking for a new gown for her daughter. Told her I don’t know how she’d found my details or why she’d come this far, but I don’t make women’s clothes and she’d be better looking in London. She wasn’t having it. Insisted that I make an exception for her and that once I saw her daughter I’d be so impressed that I’d be begging to make one for her. Kept explaining that regardless of how stunning her daughter was, I didn’t have the skills and I would make a hash of it especially if her daughter was half as spectacular as she was making out. She got all huffy but managed to get rid of her eventually.”

Sirius stayed quiet, watching Remus with an expectant curiosity.

“I do feel a bit bad though. I’ve actually done a few dresses. Not as many as suits, but they are still pretty good if I do say so.” Sirius snorted. A smile crept onto Remus’ lips. Sirius wanted to kiss him more. Instead, Remus nodded again towards the hot mug. “Drink, it’ll help.” he insisted.

Sirius raised the mug, forgetting to blow before scalding hot water was pouring between his lips.

“Bollocks! Fuck! Ow!” he exclaimed, and bolted to Remus’ sink, ducking his head under the tap and dousing his mouth in cold water. Remus fussed but was ultimately in no position to help, and seemed to be unable to hold back his laughter at Sirius’ flailing. “You could’ve warned me.” Sirius whined petulantly, but he already felt better.

“My apologies, Lord Black, I should have warned you that the hot drink might be hot.” Came that irresistibly teasing smile, and then in sultry tones he continued, “Would you like me to blow on it for you?”

Sirius nearly collapsed as he felt his knees buckle and his face fell slack as his already intoxicated brain raced to keep up with the man in front of him.

“Hey, kidding.” Remus sniggered in amusement, waving a hand in front of Sirius’ blank expression. “I’m not planning on taking advantage of you when you’re obviously distressed… and very drunk.”

“’m not drunk.” Sirius pouted, lying blatantly in his urgent desire to be taken advantage of. Remus raised a disbelieving eyebrow and Sirius slumped back into the chair when it was obvious he was not going to get his way.

“Okay, then explain to me how you ended up in front of my shop on new years’ eve – sorry, new year’s day?”

“Badgers.” Sirius blurted, earning a surprised laugh from Remus. Sirius wanted to capture and bottle the utter look of fondness that Remus was now directing at him.

“Badgers?”

“Mhm. Tonnes of them, feral they were. That’s why I was banging down your door. I was passing by when I spotted the swarm of hairy bastards invading. I fought them all off of course, but they might’ve gone for reinforcements. Naturally, my first thought was to come to you.”

“Naturally. That was certainly very brave of you, facing off against a whole swarm of badgers like that. And what were you doing passing by my neck of the woods?”

“Was at James’.”

“Ah. The Potters’ New Year’s do. Yes, I’ve heard of it. As I recall, legend tells of a party so extravagant with endless amusements and free-flowing booze. So it goes, no one has ever left that party sober enough to recall the entire night. To this day no one truly knows what goes on there.”

“That’s the one.” Sirius nodded enthusiastically, drawn in by Remus’ narrative.

 “Well then you must be completely off your face.”

Sirius sulked at having been cornered into his own argument. “Oh you think you’re so clever, Remus Lupin,” he snarked.

“I am.” Came the astoundingly charming cocky grin and Sirius found himself, once again, lost for all thought except to marvel at the man in front of him.

“You are.” Sirius echoed, in hushed admiration, and then delighted in Remus’ crimson blush at the praise despite being the one who started it. He shifted uncomfortably as Sirius continued to watch him appraisingly.

“Right then,” Remus started, apparently eager to move the conversation off himself, “m’fraid you’ll have to sleep on the sofa. Sorry I don’t have much space in here.”

“Or I could share your bed..?” Sirius looked up with a small cheeky grin, though his usual flirtatious looks were no doubt lessened somewhat by his red and puffy eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.” Remus groaned and rolled his eyes, but a fond smile crept back onto his lips. “Was that the plan, then? Storm over here in the middle of the night and seduce me into bed?”

“Is it working?”

“Not so far, but keep trying.” Remus snorted.

Sirius hummed happily, his eyes drooping sleepily, but he forced himself to stay awake, staring at the dark, inviting eyes in front of him. Suddenly Sirius thrilled with the idea that this was what it might be like to wake up with Remus, and he drank in his lightly drowsy expression. “You’re lovely.” He whispered. Remus blushed again, and Sirius grinned at that.

“You’re a menace,” came the mumbled reply, but Remus’ heart clearly wasn’t in it, and Sirius’ grin widened. Remus chose to pointedly ignore this, and looked down at Sirius’ fingers clutching the scorching mug like a lifeline. In a low voice he said, “Let me see those hands now, and then it’s off to bed with you.”

All confidence left Sirius at the quiet request, and Sirius meekly splayed his hands flat on the table in front of him. Remus reached over to retrieve a cloth, wetting it lightly under the tap without needing to leave his chair, with how cramped his kitchen was. He turned back to Sirius, and began wiping at the bloody knuckles which had already started drying into a ruddy pigment. The room was silent and still, the only disturbance was the air breathed between them as Remus kept his eyes focused on Sirius’ bruised and bloody hands, while Sirius watched on, transfixed. Once Remus had wiped away the last bit of blood, his hand lingered over Sirius’ for a moment and the two of them sat in silence watching their joined hands. In a quick twist of his wrist, Sirius manoeuvred so that his hand was now covering Remus’ instead, keeping it pressed to the table. Remus looked up, startled at the sudden movement and Sirius’ solemn expression.

“Your hand looks okay… Um, shouldn’t… shouldn’t need ice,” Remus mumbled vacantly. The alcohol still burned in Sirius’ lungs and tinged the charged air between them. He slowly extended his fingers over Remus’ wrist. Keeping his eyes locked on Remus’ the entire time, he traced his hand cautiously along his exposed forearms, over the worn-through sleeve of his pyjamas, coming to rest on his shoulder. Remus was holding his breath, looking like a wild animal about to bolt, but then his eyelids fluttered shut as Sirius continued dragging his hand up Remus' neck, cupping his jaw and then winding fingers into golden-brown curls. Remus’ eyes were still closed, a troubled furrow creasing his brow as Sirius leaned forward until their foreheads touched, bitter fumes mingling with soft breaths.

“Remus, kiss me. Please.” He watched in glassy-eyed wonder as Remus opened his eyes, a desperation passing over his expression. “Please,” Sirius pressed again, his husky voice barely above a whisper, flicking his tongue out over his lips to temporarily sate their need for pressure. Remus watched the movement with desire clouding his gaze. He complied with a bruising press of his lips against Sirius’.

It was brief but firm, nothing like the desperate, open-mouthed kisses they’d shared before. All too soon, his lips were gone again, Sirius chasing the absent air. Something unsettling that Sirius couldn’t place danced in Remus’ eyes, and he cleared his throat, standing up and putting distance between them.

Sirius gave a petulant whine. “No, none of that now, Lord Black. If you’re good and go to sleep, I’ll kiss you again in the morning when you’re sober…” and then there was a hesitation. Something sad passed over Remus’ face that Sirius instantly wanted to banish when he added, “If you still want me to.”

And Sirius hated the look of insecurity in Remus’ eyes, hated himself knowing he was the one who had put it there. Hated knowing that, come the sober harsh light of morning, he would deny everything.

“I always want you, Remus.” Came Sirius’ earnest reply, making everything that much worse before he could stop himself. Remus shut his eyes and groaned at the ceiling.

“You can’t say things like that when you’re all drunk and vulnerable, Sirius. I’ll end up doing bad things to you.”

“What if I want you to do bad things to me?” The spark of mischief returned and then he grinned, “Very bad things, in fact, with those fingers-”

“Alright and that’s enough of that!” Remus practically shouted, slamming hands over his ears as he glared at the lascivious look that Sirius was giving him. “Off to bed with you!”

“If you insist,” Sirius’ grin widened, and he pushed to his feet, making for what he assumed was the bedroom.

“Not. In. There!” Remus yelped, dragging Sirius back by his collar and depositing him onto the sofa. “Stay here. Go to sleep. If I so much as hear a peep from you, I am calling Frank to come and take you home immediately, antisocial hours be damned.”

“But-”

“No buts, Sirius. Sleep.” Sirius pouted, but collapsed onto the sofa with a huff. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

He thought he felt a hand brush through his hair and a soft kiss planted on his forehead. But, he thought, it must have been a dream.

Chapter Text

Sirius blinked awake to the sight of floating mahogany eyes. Thinking he must still be dreaming, he took a moment to adjust and, remembering where he was, sat up suddenly, setting off a hammering throb against his skull. Sirius groaned.

“That’ll be the hangover.” The man to whom those unreadable eyes belonged was sitting on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, facing him with his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched over as he leant the bottom half of his face against clasped hands, the crinkle of a smirk and the promise of mischief glinting beneath his gaze, all the while casting considering glances over the recently awoken man. Judging by Sirius’ dwindling level of intoxication and the dense glow of golden light filtering in through the gauzy teal curtains, it was afternoon already. There was the vague memory of tender lips on his, though he wasn’t sure if that had been a dream.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asked without a shred of pity, oblivious to the sudden churning dread taking root in Sirius’ chest.

Sirius winced, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” Remus glanced up sharply at that, his mirthful expression instantly crinkled into confusion. He watched Sirius carefully for a few moments, and then spoke again, arching a sceptical eyebrow.

“For?”

“I don’t know… everything? Showing up at a ridiculous hour pissed off my face, making you take care of me, not to mention whatever drivel I spouted last night...just- just everything. I’ve been told I talk utter tosh when I’m drunk, so at the very least I’m confident I need to apologise for whatever I said.” He was unashamedly fishing for reassurance that he hadn’t been as bad as he thought, that it was all okay, and he hadn’t done irreparable damage. Remus gave him none, so Sirius doubled down on his effort to apologise, “Whatever it was, I’m certain I didn’t mean it. Trust me, Remus, anyone who knows me knows not to trust a word I say when I’m drunk.”

“Right, well.” And then Remus removed his hands from his face, revealing a full-fledged frown and his sudden frosty tone. “I suppose I have to accept your apology, what with you being my best paying customer.”

“Remus-”

“I’ll call for Frank to come and pick you up.” And Sirius could do nothing but wait patiently as Remus turned his back, dialling the phone.

“It’s Remus. Yes. Yes, he’s here. Perfect, thank you Minerva.”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius blurted when Remus had hung up the phone.

“You said that already.”

“Well, I mean it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sirius.”

“I don’t want you to say anything.” Sirius was growing increasingly frustrated at Remus’ apparent sudden grouchiness, not knowing how or what he’d done to set it off.

“Well, good.”

“Good.” Sirius echoed and they sat staring at each other in stubborn silence, as Sirius continued to puzzle over what had gone wrong. He could barely remember the previous night, but flashes of shouting himself hoarse in the cold night air, of scattered buttons and of piping hot chocolate drifted into his mind.

“Your housekeeper sounded worried.” Remus broke the silence at last, “Didn’t you tell anyone you were coming here last night?”

“I… might have not? No, no probably not.” Sirius grimaced again, berating his past drunk self for landing him in these gradually worsening consequences. He hadn’t even thought about having to face Minerva when he returned home.

Remus watched him for a moment with a curious look on his face. Then he sighed and his expression finally softened, sitting back at the table. The two sat in silence for a while, avoiding each other’s gaze as they waited for the hour and a half to pass before Frank got there. Every time he looked up, Remus was looking away, and whenever he felt Remus’ gaze about to return, he couldn’t help but find something else to occupy himself with. So instead he scanned through the magazine clippings on the table. They seemed to be an assortment of clothes and materials, some celebrities, red carpet fashion and the like, others were textiles or clothing from various catalogues.

“Are these for your suits?” he asked in a timid voice that sounded like a stranger to himself. Remus looked up from his hands, and strained to see what Sirius was referring to.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I like to mess around with different ideas. Most of it wouldn’t translate well into suits, but I think it sometimes helps looking at things that are very different. Dresses, knitwear, shoes even. You’d be amazed where inspiration can strike.” Remus perked up a little as he spoke, settling into a more relaxed interest now that the conversation had turned to his expertise. Sirius managed to lull him into a longer conversation, as he coaxed Remus into sharing some of his favourite clippings and some ideas he’d not yet had the opportunity to incorporate into his designs. At some point in the conversation, Remus had drifted until he was standing over Sirius, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Would you ever make anything like this? Like a jumper? Or a dress?” he held up a clipping of a gorgeous-looking woman in a long, black satin dress. Remus fixed him with a blank expression, blinking a few times as if processing the question, and then his brow furrowed again. Sirius hated that. Hated knowing that he’d done something wrong again, but hated even more that he didn’t know what it was.

“How much did you drink last night?”

Sirius frowned, confused at the sudden change of topic, “Let’s see, there was the bottle of wine, then I think about five or six glasses of champagne. I know I had a few whiskey sours…”

“Jesus, Sirius,” Remus muttered as Sirius trailed off, unable to remember much beyond a certain point around his fourth or fifth whiskey sour. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’ll sleep it off when I’m back home,” Sirius shrugged.

“No, not- I mean… Look, I know it’s none of my business. I realise you’re a Lord and I’m just your tailor,” Sirius winced at the hint of bite in Remus’ words, “but I think we went past that when you showed up at my shop in the middle of the night. I’m not… you don’t owe me an explanation, Sirius, but if you need help…”

“I’m fine.” Sirius replied shortly, not looking Remus in the eye. Knowing that he probably very much did owe Remus an explanation, but there was nothing satisfactory he could give. No way he could explain how desperately he had needed to see Remus when it felt like everything was collapsing in on him. And then, to his surprise, Remus sat down on the weathered sofa beside him.

“Sirius,” he said, all care and concern in his voice, though he kept a marked distance between them. “You… you can talk to me you know. I thought- well… it seemed like something was bothering you last night.” Sirius twisted uncomfortably, still unsure of what exactly he had said. Dribs and drabs of the night continued to resurface as his brain woke up, but it was mostly flashes of Remus’ kitchen and intense brown eyes which was hardly surprising, considering how much they occupied his thoughts even when he was sober. Sirius had a faint recollection of burning his tongue, which he confirmed from the coarse texture of his damaged tastebuds, but everything else was surrounded in a dreamlike fog.

“Probably my usual drunken musings about the meaning of life or some bollocks. I get philosophical when I’m drunk.”

“Oh yeah, you were a regular Heidegger.” Remus snorted, tentatively reaching his hand almost to Sirius’ shoulder and then flinched back before he could connect the touch, jumping at the sound of Frank’s horn from outside.

Remus stood up, leaving empty space where Sirius had felt only warmth a second ago, and walked over to the counter. He picked up a key and set it on the coffee table in front of Sirius – keeping himself safely on the other side out of Sirius’ reach. “Take it. It’s a spare for the shop. I’d prefer you call ahead, or better yet keep to business hours, but I can’t have you waking up the whole village any time you fancy a late-night visit.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Either way, take it. If… if you need to talk about anything, Sirius, I’m here. Or if you’re in that place again, I don’t want you to be alone. You can come to me, okay?” Sirius searched his brown eyes for the caveat, for the hint that it was simply a gesture and he actually wanted Sirius to keep as far from him as possible. But it wasn’t there.

“Okay.” Sirius answered in a voice as small as he felt under that kind gaze and scooped up the key with delicate fingers. He looked at the small metal object in his hand, and it felt like the most precious, important thing he’d ever held. With a polite cough, and a small glimpse of a smile in Remus’ direction, Sirius pulled himself up to his feet and walked over to the door. It was a matter of mere steps in that small flat.

“Sirius?”

“Yes, Remus?” Sirius turned back, unable to hide the hopeful look in his eyes as they met Remus’.

“Come back for your fittings; I can’t be as accurate if I’m relying on the templates.” Remus looked like he wanted to say something more, but broke his eye contact, frowning back down at the clippings as if he was mulling over a complex problem.

“Right.” Sirius hesitated as he pulled the door open, but found he had nothing more he could say, “I’ll see you, Remus.”

“Get home safe, Sirius.” And without another look, Sirius left.

~~~

“What the fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Seriously, Sirius, what the actual fuck!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Don’t just say you’re sorry! I’ve been calling the house all night. Minnie yelled at me three times, and I still kept calling all day because I hadn’t heard a peep from you. I’ve had half the staff racing around all of bloody Shropshire trying to find you. Where the fuck have you been?”

“I… I wasn’t at home…”

“You don’t say,” the sarcasm rolled out heavy into Sirius’ lap. James rarely got like this. He wasn’t big on sarcasm, and swearing even less, believed that it should be reserved for the most severe situations so that its impact was more meaningful. In the moment, Sirius couldn’t help mentally applauding the effectiveness of this theory. James’ curses stung that much more for how unnatural they sounded leaving his mouth.

It was the evening of New Year’s Day. Sirius had been sitting alone in his dining room, eating the reheated leftovers of a roast that had been prepared for the lunch that Sirius hadn’t shown up to. Usually the servants gathered for New Year’s lunch and it was the one time of year that Sirius would eat with them, often still tipsy from the night before at James. Occasionally James would join. This year, though, Sirius hadn’t slept over at Peverell Estate as he usually would, hadn’t been woken by an unfathomably unhungover James, hadn’t been plied with some mysterious concoction that every year managed to subdue his hangover, before being whisked away by Frank to return to Godric Hall just in time for their annual tradition.

Instead, he’d returned home to a bitter scolding from Minerva, spent the afternoon sleeping off his hangover, before being summoned to eat something in the cold and lonely dining room. He had barely finished eating when James stormed through the front door – apparently Minerva had called him while Sirius had been sleeping to let him know that Sirius had returned safely home.

Now, Sirius was sat at his dining table in the dimming light of flickering candles as the night grew tall through the high windows surrounding the room, while James paced with rippling vehemence in front of the disused fireplace. Every so often, James reached up to rub his temples, or pinch the bridge of his nose, and then he would stop suddenly, face Sirius, and direct a withering glare in silence, before letting loose another stream of curses and resuming his pacing. “Well? Where were you?” he demanded when he stopped again.

“I was at Lupin’s.” Sirius mumbled with a wince, half hoping James wouldn’t catch it. At first he didn’t, at first his face edged into a squint, as though adjusting his eyesight would help him hear better and then a look of realisation, tinged with a hint of disappointment, settled onto his face.

“Sirius, tell me you didn’t…”

“No!” Sirius jumped to his feet in fierce denial, “No I didn’t- we didn’t- at least… I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Probably not. Almost certainly. Especially considering how unhappy he was with me this morning.” Sirius received a stern glare for daring to venture a wink, and fell back into a pout.

“Unhappy?”

“Well, not exactly unhappy. I don’t know... It just seemed like every time I opened my mouth I said the wrong thing. He kept getting this crinkly look in his eyebrows, like when he’s focusing on his work, but usually he has this sort of smile when he’s working and this morning he just kept frowning and sighing and I don’t know what I did wrong or why he was like that and-”

“Okay, okay, Sirius, calm down. It’s okay.” James interrupted, easing Sirius back into his chair. Sirius, who hadn’t realised he’d been working himself into a state took a deep, much-needed breath. “Just talk me through it. What exactly happened last night?”

“I… I remember getting in the taxi at yours… then next thing I remember is being outside Remus’ shop and shouting for him. I-” Sirius blushed, unused to being embarrassed by his drunken escapades, and not coping well with James’ severe scolding in his still-hungover state. “I think we might have kissed? And then we were in his flat and I don’t know… it was all a bit of a blur. I remember talking about badgers at one point and he gave me hot chocolate and I burnt my tongue. Then it was the next day and I was on his sofa.” Sirius shrugged with a deep sigh of frustration. He wished he could remember more, wished he knew what he’d done wrong. There were other things he remembered that he didn’t feel like sharing with James, like the grip of Remus’ hands on his waist in the cool, dark shopfront. Like the honeydew smile and the echo of a tumbling laugh. Like the raw anguished sadness he remembered feeling and the sensation of a damp cotton-covered shoulder cradling his cheek. But it was all just blurs and flashes and none of it explained the crestfallen disappointment in Remus’ eyes the following morning.

“Right, well. That doesn’t seem so bad?” James offered, unconvincingly. At least James’ lecturing seemed to have been deferred by Sirius’ downtrodden state.

“But I must have done something wrong. He was… he was really subdued this morning. I think I upset him, but I don’t know how or why.”

“Have you thought about asking him?”

“Are you mad.”

“It’s called communication. It’s good for you.”

“Do you make posters, Potter?” Sirius drawled blandly, “You should really make motivational posters. Or greetings cards.”

“Oi! I’m trying to help you out here.”

“Sorry. You’re doing wonderfully.” James calmed again at the small smile Sirius offered him in lieu of an olive branch, “Thanks, Prongs.”

“You really scared me, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry, James.”

“Promise you won’t disappear like that again.”

“I’ll try.”

“Promise.” The intensity came blazing back into James’ eyes for a brief instant.

“Fine, fine. I promise. Next time I have a breakdown, go berserk, and start smashing up your furniture, I’ll stick around for the after-party.”

“That’s all I ask.” James returned a smile of relief, and pulled Sirius into an awkward half-seated, half-standing embrace. Sirius accepted it. “Also, that was an antique mirror, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

“I’ll have Minnie send over a restorer first thing tomorrow.”

~~~

Things were eerily quiet for a while. Sirius was left to stew in the interminable disquiet; his only reassurance was the key burning a hole in his pocket. He’d gotten into the habit of leaving it on his bedstand at night, and pocketing it again the next morning once he was dressed. Hardly a minute passed when Sirius wasn’t fiddling with it in some way, if only to remind himself that what had passed between him and Remus hadn’t been a dream after all.

Then, a few weeks into the New Year, the official announcement of his election to the House of Lords came, with his introduction expected the following week. The dread started to fill him as he realised he would be forced to wear one of his old, now grossly inadequate, suits made by not-Remus-Lupin to his first appearance in parliament. He told himself that this was why he was so excited when Remus finally called, six days later, to let him know that one of his business suits was ready for a fitting. Sirius was at the car minutes after Minerva hung up the phone. The second he had heard Remus’ name, Sirius was putting on his shoes and jacket, not caring that he was wearing a simple white polo shirt and a loose-fitting pair of chinos. He paused briefly at the mirror in the hallway to check his hair and make sure he was at least semi-presentable before he was racing over to where Frank was leaning against the saloon, shouting his departure to Minerva through the closing door.

It was only once the familiar Welsh hills came into view that his nerves began to swarm all over again, remembering how tense Remus had seemed the last time they spoke. Apologising had only seemed to make things worse. Regardless, he needed the new suit. The idea of turning up in anything less than one of Remus’ best for his first day made his stomach churn more than the prospect of facing a disgruntled Remus. Sirius hoped that the tailor’s mood had thawed with the blistering depths of winter and he would be back to his usual smirking self. Something bubbled up below Sirius’ navel at the thought of seeing that smile again and he allowed his excitement to bubble up instead.

Frank pulled up outside Lupin’s Sartorial around mid-morning and Sirius bounded out straight into the atelier, all worries of any lingering tension completely forgotten in the hour spent whiling away in wistful daydreams. The nerves came rushing back, however, when he all but tripped through the entrance and Remus’ head snapped up at the sound of the heavy footfall and tinkling bell. Their eyes met and Remus gave a small smile, but there was hesitance floating in the wooded depths of his eyes, waiting for Sirius to make the first move. Sirius could feel a light blush creeping onto his cheeks, feeling as though Remus’ penetrating stare was seeing all the fantasies Sirius had been conjuring for himself in the back of his car. They hadn’t been lewd, but it was somehow worse thinking that Remus could read on his face all the embarrassing visions he’d had of holding hands, running fingers through honey-brown hair, and staring deeply into the glistening depths of his eyes.

“Remus.” Sirius nodded, giving a small smile, but he quickly replaced it with a look of what he hoped was haughty professionalism. Remus’ eyebrows quirked, bemused at Sirius’ stiff manner. His lips had already started curving into a smirk, but his eyes were devoid of their usual mischief.

“Sirius.” Remus returned the greeting, cordial enough. At least he wasn’t back to that ‘Lord Black’ business. “I’m glad you decided to come in for your fitting.”

He didn’t look glad, but then again he didn’t look annoyed or upset either. All Sirius wanted was for things to go back to how they had been. He wanted to see those eyes dancing with a smile again. Without any way to make that happen, he simply gave another nod and went over to the dressing area. When he looked up again Remus had come up behind him, but he averted his gaze when Sirius caught his eyes in the reflection.

“Excuse me one moment, I’ll get the suit.” And with that he disappeared to the back of the shop, leaving Sirius exposed again in front of the mirror. His hands itched at the memory of shattered glass, but he didn’t move, just stared into grey eyes as he tried to fathom what he could have done to warrant such an indifferent greeting from Remus who always seemed to be hiding a drop of mischief behind those brown eyes. “Here we are.”

Remus returned, laying out a monochrome panelled jacket and trousers. It was difficult to make out the details from the way the suit was folded over the hanger, especially with the material still pinned roughly onto the paper templates marked up with chalk. Sirius struggled to maintain his aloof composure as Remus fingers danced over his waist and chest. When it came time to fit the trousers, Sirius could only blush and pray that Remus was too deeply involved in his tailoring to notice his reaction. He was sure he hadn’t struggled so much with Remus’ closeness before, but the thin yet crucial layer of denial had been removed and left Sirius feeling raw and exposed. Remus, meanwhile, seemed unaffected.

“Alright, that should do for now.” Remus spoke again with a stretch in his voice as he completed the final adjustments to the baste fitting, “I’ll have the full suit ready for you by the end of the week.” All heat drained from Sirius, as a frigid concern took its place. Suddenly all that mattered was the suit.

“I need it tomorrow.” Sirius blurted. The cool expression dropped from Remus’ face, as a confused frown took its place.

“Sirius, that’s-”

“Please.” Sirius insisted in cinched desperation, cutting off Remus’ likely all-too-reasonable objections, “It’s my first day in parliament tomorrow and I need to be wearing this suit.”

“There’s a lot still to do…” Remus mumbled, his voice now equally anxious, as he chewed his lip. Sirius had expected Remus to shut him down instantly, to (quite rightly) refuse his most unreasonable demand, and tell him to wait his turn like any other customer. Instead, Sirius could almost see his mind racing behind furrowed brows as he tried to think of a way to fulfil Sirius’ sudden request. Silence hung between Sirius’ anticipation and Remus’ tribulation, but at length Remus spoke again.

“Alright.” He said finally. Sirius exhaled in heavy relief. “I’ve not got any other orders due, so if you don’t mind coming back later, I can finish it off today and have it ready for you this evening. Will you have time to go and come back? Or there’s the local down the road, if you prefer…”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Sirius-”

“Please.” Sirius implored with insistence, once again bowling over Remus’ protests in his impatience.

“It’s not going to be fun for you. I’m very dull when I’m working.”

“I don’t care. Please just let me watch. I won’t be able to focus on anything else anyway.” Remus narrowed his eyes again in solemn consideration, and then finally his face relaxed into a bemused expression as he shook his head as if in disbelief at his own folly.

“Fine.” He sighed with resignation, but Sirius wanted to believe he heard a whisper of fondness. “But I need absolute silence while I work.”

Sirius considered for a long moment. He wasn’t known for sitting silently and patiently. He nodded his tacit agreement anyway.

~~~

This was not the amends Sirius had been hoping to make. Nevertheless it seemed to have dispersed the lingering tension. Remus was now in what Sirius was starting to refer to mentally as his “tailor-mode”, entirely absorbed in his work, all solemn and intense, with none of that mirth that Sirius was so fond of. But Sirius found he was fond of this too; of the way he could see the excitement burning even beneath the heavy furrow of concentration in his brow. Sirius had never been as focused on anything in his life, something he might have been more ashamed to admit if he wasn’t too busy marvelling at Remus’ dedication. To Sirius’ credit, he hardly fidgeted as Remus worked. He barely spoke – after the second irritable reprimand from Remus – and was motionless except for a few brief intervals when his leg started to go numb from the awkward position he was sat in, one leg folded beneath him as he leant his head on his arm against the workbench enrapture by the way Remus threaded intricate stitches through the fabric.

As Remus continued to pour over his work, the morning melted into the fuzzy light of afternoon, until that too extinguished into a dimming purple sunset, sliding over the mottled rooftiles across the street. Eventually night fell, leaving Remus and Sirius alone and illuminated in that cosy old atelier. Still, diligent brown eyes flickered back and forth along the folds of material while slender fingers ran across threads, leaving stitches in their wake. His movements were delicate and precise, Sirius having to concentrate to even see the moment that his needle pierced the fabric with how quickly his hands moved. It was like magic and Sirius couldn’t think of any occasion where he’d demonstrated a quarter of the skill that Remus was displaying. For most of his life it had been far more satisfying to behave contrary to how every authority figure wanted him to act. The only thing he had cared about for a long time was how far he could push his boundaries before they snapped and he’d never stopped to question if maybe some of them might have actually been encouraging him. Now, watching Remus entirely focused and completing his work with unrivalled finesse, Sirius found himself wishing for some skill with which to impress the man, which itself was an absurd thought. Sirius had never needed to try hard to impress anyone before. Usually stating his name was enough to have everyone laving the floor in his wake, desperate for a glimpse of the famous noble heir to the ancient House of Black. But now Sirius felt wholly inadequate.

It was around this swirling thought that Sirius resolved to do something about it. Deciding that Remus was sufficiently engrossed in his own work that he wouldn’t protest a small amount of movement, Sirius rose from his seat next to Remus, holding his breath and waiting for the scolding. Thankfully, his judgement had been correct and Remus worked on without comment. Sirius crept, as silently as he knew how, to the dark mahogany-panelled door at the back and slipped inside, tiptoeing upstairs and praying he’d be allowed this small endeavour without offending the beleaguered tailor who was at that moment working late into the night to fulfil Sirius’ exorbitant demands. He wanted to show Remus that he could be useful for something, though he tried not to examine the urge too closely.

The paint-chipped door at the top of that narrow, creaky staircase was, as Sirius had expected, unlocked and slightly ajar. Letting himself in, Sirius paused a moment to take in the flat, finally sober and free of Remus’ scrutiny. It was modest and the colours were still as washed out and faded as Sirius had remembered, but much like the busy scraps of the shop downstairs, it was lived in. Discarded mugs of hot chocolate and tea were strewn about the place – Sirius observed that it was significantly messier than the last time he’d been there, which led him to conclude that Remus had spent some part of the morning tidying the place before Sirius had woken to that awful hangover. The thought of a ruffled Remus worrying about the state of his flat, next to the chaotic mess of an inebriated and unconscious Sirius, brought with it an odd reassurance. Then Sirius’ eyes flickered to the door opposite the kitchen, just beyond the beaten-up old sofa. Something told him that was Remus’ bedroom. The closed door pulled like a hot temptation to go and poke his nose around, just to see how Remus slept, to see how he woke up, to see what pictures he kept on his dresser, whether he had more mugs on his bedside, whether he had straightened out his sheets when he had woken up that morning. Sirius was aching to find out more about the mysterious man downstairs, but that was not why he had taken such pains to sneak into the flat. So, Sirius turned to the sink and blinked blankly at the kettle sitting beside it.

This couldn’t be that difficult. Millions of people made tea every single day. It was more than ninety percent water. In fact Sirius was quite partial to a cup of tea each morning, nevermind that it was brought to him in bed before he was awake. Nevermind that he’d only really witnessed a kettle being used once at a friend’s house when he was maybe thirteen. He clicked a button; a light went on and the container began making an odd clicking noise. He clicked the button off again. Then he tapped the only other button, on the top of the lid, and Sirius sprang backwards with a short yelp as the lid flipped open. The kettle had only a thin layer of water lining the bottom – not a good start. At least this was one part that Sirius felt confident with. Having filled the kettle, he returned it back to its slot and pressed down on the button on top once more, waiting for the lid to spring shut. Nothing happened. He tried again. Then again, and then a third time, before he heard a small chuckle from the doorway and he blanched. Slowly, with the guilt etched on his face, like a child caught sneaking out of bed late at night, Sirius turned to face his observer.

There was Remus Lupin, resting his forearm against the open entryway, his head leaning into it slightly with an odd expression of fondness beneath an eyebrow raised in amusement and, of course, a smirk about his lips. “Try pushing it down.”

Wordlessly, Sirius, turned back to the kettle, still a little embarrassed at having been caught failing to operate basic kitchen equipment and realised he’d been so panicked about not being able to use a kettle that he’d missed the obvious solution of pushing the lid down himself. Not for the first time since he’d stepped foot in Lupin’s Sartorial that day, Sirius felt his body subsumed in a blush. As the kettle began to hum, Remus crossed over to where Sirius was silently watching it, unsure of when he would next be required to make a fool of himself in the name of proving his competence (a feat at which he had already failed most devastatingly). Before he knew what was happening, Remus had crowded into his space and was reaching over his head. His body brushed inattentively against Sirius, as he reached for the cupboards. Sirius remained deliberately motionless as Remus withdrew two mugs and then two teabags, before he once again removed himself from Sirius’ space to retrieve the milk from the fridge. The two stood side by side in silence as the kettle boiled, Sirius keeping his eyes trained on the dim light at its base, while Remus, no doubt still smirking, watched Sirius.

Eventually the water started to gurgle aggressively, almost shaking the kettle off its base. Still in a state of panic, and worrying that he’d somehow managed to fail at the simple task of filling up the kettle properly, Sirius reached for the button to stop it, but Remus caught his hand, and held it firmly where he had stopped it mid-air. Remus watched the kettle patiently, Sirius watched their hands, until finally the button clicked, the light went off and the water’s wrath began to die down. Remus moved swift and smooth, releasing Sirius’ hand back by his side, before pouring the water into the two cups. He motioned for Sirius to take a seat, while he fussed about with straining and stirring, finally discarding the teabags into the sink and placing two perfectly milky teas on the table in front of them.

“I hope that’s the right amount of milk?”

“Perfect.” Sirius said finally, still blushing into his cup as he wrapped his fingers around it, shoulders slumping sheepishly, but then he looked up and saw that Remus was smiling that sweet, open smile that filled Sirius with honey and chocolate warmth. Sirius returned the smile, not a shadow of a grimace or some hesitant thing, but a full, beaming smile.

“Thank you for the tea.” Remus said, resting his mug on the table and reached across to cover Sirius’ free hand that he hadn’t realised had started tapping nervously against the table. The gesture was frighteningly intimate, but nothing about Remus’ movement seemed unnatural; it was as though this was something they did every week – sit across from each other, drinking tea and holding hands. Sirius ignored the burning blush returning to his cheeks at the thought, and didn’t remove his hand as he snorted milky brown ripples into his mug at Remus’ comment.

“It was very considerate of you.” Remus pressed again, catching Sirius’ gaze meaningfully, and the rueful embarrassment at his earlier struggle disappeared completely under Remus’ sincerity.

“I’ve never actually made tea,” he admitted at last.

“No?” Remus smirked over the gentle smile. Sirius realised he was becoming much more attuned to when Remus was mocking him.

“Oi, I’m not just some spoilt brat who has people running around after him all the time.”

“I didn’t say you were,” came the reasonable reply, but Remus’ grin broadened at Sirius petulant squabbling.

“I know I can be a bit of a prat, but I look after my people. Trust me, I’m a damn sight better than a few people I could name. You would not want to see how my mother treats people in her employment.” Sirius’ animated objections dwindled into something muter as he thought of his mother’s frequent and cruel demonstrations he’d witnessed growing up.

“I imagine similar to how she treats her children?” Remus’ previous amusement had disappeared into careful concern. There was a hint of suggestion behind his look, but he didn’t press for more, and Sirius didn’t want to offer it. He wasn’t sure what Remus was imagining, but he wasn’t ready to relive his childhood memories in front of him just yet.

“Yeah, something like that.” Sirius gave a non-committal shrug.

“Does that have something to do with what happened at New Year’s?” Ah. Sirius had been wondering when that was going to come up. If he was honest, he’d been avoiding mentioning it, hoping they could just move on and forget. But Remus didn’t seem the type to just let go of something that had clearly bothered him.

“Sort of. I was at my parent’s- well, Mother’s house over Christmas before James’ party. It was… it can be a lot sometimes.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine. There’s not much to say really. Same old, same old. Pressure and obligations to be perfect and do everything just so. Not to mention my Mother is intent on pushing me as deep into the closet as possible.”

“Ah yes, the closet. I remember it well.” Remus chuckled softly, joining Sirius’ morose attempt at humour. “But I have to admit my Dad was never the one to put me there. Just me and all my teenage insecurities. It must be difficult still having to deal with all that as an adult.”

“What about your mother?” Sirius asked, brushing past Remus’ last comment. “Does she mind?”

“Ma passed away when I was little. I wasn’t even aware myself at the time. Then again, she always seemed to know things, so who knows.”

“I’m sorry, Remus.” Remus nodded mutely in acknowledgement, but didn’t say more. “What about your Dad? Is he…?”

“Retired.” Sirius couldn’t help the small, relieved sigh that escaped and it didn’t escape Remus’ notice either, who gave a smile glint of a smirk at Sirius’ apparent discomfort. “He’s in a home not far from here.”

Sirius bouldered on, not letting his near-clumsy attempt stop him from learning more about the man whose hand still rested lightly on his own. “This used to be his shop, right? James told me…” then Sirius drifted off, not sure how much he or his friend was actually supposed to have heard about Remus’ life and well aware of how damaging rumours could be. “Did you always want to be a tailor?”

Remus stared consideringly at Sirius, examining him with the intensity of his deep gaze. Just as Sirius felt he was about to fold under the scrutiny of it all, Remus seemed to shrug off his concerns and answered with an indifferent shrug.

“Not really. Actually, I hated being here when I was little. Found it unbearably dull. Then life got a bit too exciting and before I knew it I was craving the peace and quiet of this dusty old place.”

“Does the ‘excitement’ have anything to do with your scars?”

“Yeah, it does. Sadly no werewolves were involved. ‘Exciting’ is probably the wrong word.”

“Would you tell me about them?” Sirius asked, quietly, then quickly added, “Only if you want to.”

“I don’t mind talking about it, but it’s not a nice story. You might not want to hear it.”

“Try me.” Then turning his hand, still covered by Remus’, palm up, he gave the rough hand a gentle squeeze.

Remus regarded their hands silently for a moment, then his gaze returned, soft as melting chocolate. And then he spoke. His tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, but Sirius felt his chest curl tight at the sliver of pain hiding behind the cool expression as he spoke.

“Da got sick just before my first term at uni and couldn’t run the shop anymore. He had savings, enough for his treatment, but… My course didn’t allow part-time jobs and it was too late to apply for grants, so I had to find some way to make money. I started betting on fights, betting on myself against whoever would take me. Compared to some of those boys I was fairly scrawny so they always thought they could take me. Some of them did. I ran the books though, so I was making at least a small profit either way.” Remus held Sirius’ gaze as he spoke, his voice remaining matter of fact, even as he gestured up at some of the smaller scars on his hands and face. “Got a fair few scars, but nothing too vital. Then this one guy got mad when he lost, demanded a rematch. I should’ve known by the way he was acting that he was up to something. He and his mates cornered me, held me down. He had a knife…” Remus trailed off indicating to the largest scar that cut across his face, and then took in Sirius’ horrified expression. “I told you, you might not like it.”

“I’m sorry Remus. That’s bullshit what they did. I can’t…  they should… you… you couldn’t have known. They- it’s disgusting that anyone could do something like that!” Sirius fumbled for the words, blinded by the sudden rage that had erupted deep within for these strangers who had done this to Remus, had taken this lovely man and even thought to hurt him. “Couldn’t the university do anything?”

“Oh, they did something. The boy was kicked out and spent some time in prison, I think. They were surprisingly understanding with me, but it came out that I’d been running the fights and technically the unlicensed betting was illegal. They turned a blind eye, but I was suspended and told to reapply in the following year to get the grants I needed. Da didn’t want me to go back after that. Honestly, I didn’t want to go back either. So I came home and never reapplied. Took over the shop, once I’d trained up a bit, and here we are.” Remus gestured around him, “So that’s my tragic backstory, what’d you think? Probably could use a touch more comedy, I reckon. But at least it has a happy ending.”

“I… Remus, that’s…”

“It’s okay, Sirius. Like I say, I’ve made my peace with it. I’m happy with how things worked out. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d stayed and finished my degree, but I like it here. I enjoy my work, and I get to be close to my dad, so it’s all worked out, I think.” There was a soft reassuring smile returning to his face, and before long it returned to its usual smirk, as he added, “Besides, I’d have never met you and you’d never have had me as your tailor. Then where would you be?”

“Destitute, I’m sure.” Sirius nodded gravely, and couldn’t help but return Remus’ smile. He was in awe. In awe that despite everything, Remus still managed to smile and joke. Sirius liked to make jokes about his past and present misery, of course, but it wasn’t the same, it was imbued with bitter resentment for his family, for himself, for the world he’d been forced to endure all these years. There wasn’t a shred of bitterness as Remus talked. Remorse, and perhaps a tinge of regret, but not bitterness. He was a bigger man than Sirius, that was for sure. Sirius thought he’d very much like to hunt down the people who’d done this to Remus and return the favour. Not that he would, but the desire was there.

Remus withdrew his hand abruptly and rapped his knuckles on the table, pulling Sirius from his murderous intent, and marking an end to the conversation.

“C’mon, your suit’s ready for the final adjustments.”

“Wait, Remus.”

An expectant eyebrow rose, as Remus paused in pushing himself to his feet.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening. And thank you for the tea.” He poked his tongue out with a mischievous wink, and finally rose from the table, before taking Sirius’ hand again to tug him to his feet as well. Sirius, getting swept away by Remus, only just remembered to deposit his mug, before allowing himself to be led back down to the atelier. He watched in wonder at their still-joined hands in the mirror, until Remus released his grip and vanished behind the tall wood-panels to retrieve the new suit.

“Now, it’s not as finished as I’d like, since I had to rush a bit, but the general design is there and it’s a perfectly acceptable suit to wear to parliament, I hope. But if you want to bring it back in future I can finish off the little designs I had in mind. Of course, you’re welcome to keep it as is if you prefer, but I had a few ideas that I thought might make it a bit more… special.” Remus chatted happily as he made the last final adjustments to the suit, no trace of his earlier terse demeanour. Sirius gave absent replies, remaining conversational, but was too busy staring into the reflection of Remus’ eyes to even notice the suit being draped over him, and as Remus stepped back with his usual appraising look in appreciation of his hard work, a hungry expression once again filled those dusky brown eyes.

“You look good,” he murmured. And suddenly all Sirius wanted was to plunge into that deep, beckoning gaze and drown in the spiralling dark of his eyes. Everything else fell out of focus, leaving only the latent heat of Remus’ hand still thrumming around his body with his own pulse.

“Thank you,” Sirius found himself replying without a conscious thought to what was being said; every part of Sirius was focused on the man in front of him. Remus looked up from admiring his own work, meeting Sirius’ gaze with surprise, and then a matching expression of want.

Sirius surged forward, tugging Remus’ shirt until he fell against his chest into a deep kiss. Remus’ arms wound around Sirius’ waist in response, pulling their bodies closer as the starched fabric rustled between them. He allowed himself to be engulfed under the full pressure of Remus’ body meeting his own, of their shared heat, their mingling breaths as they broke away minutely only to delve further into each other’s expectant mouths. He dragged his tongue over Remus’, as Remus raised a hand to Sirius’ neck, pulling him closer between his lips, tilting his head up for better access and pouring desire into his throat through open-mouthed kisses.

His heady bliss was interrupted by a single stray thought: What you want does not matter. His mother’s cruel scraping tones invaded into the warmth of the atelier and Sirius’ tongue grew heavy and cold in his mouth. Remus, still lost in the kiss took a moment to register the change, pulling Sirius’ body into his own, even as Sirius jerked away, and then he blinked back into focus and a heavy frown appeared on his face.

“I’m sorry-” Sirius croaked, wanting anything to return to a few moments earlier, to keep tasting Remus on his lips, to see his warm-smiling eyes.

“Sirius don’t-” Remus held him still in a firm grip, “don’t run away again.”

Sirius had never felt so transparent. It was like Remus could see right through him, through the silk and silver, beneath the clothes, to something buried so deep that even he couldn’t reach. Still caught in Remus’ fading smile and loosening grip, Sirius wanted to obey. Wanted to never leave, to stay pressed against Remus’ sturdy frame, and hold on tight while everything around him disintegrated into wistful drops of reminiscence.

“Okay.” He murmured, and leaned into Remus’ shoulder as Remus once again tightened his arms around Sirius, scooping him into a heavy embrace, not letting him fall though Sirius felt barely able to hold himself up. A shiver ran through him as Remus carded a gentle hand through his hair with soothing whispers. He might have been saying words, might have been trying to reassure him, but none of it was intelligible to Sirius, little more than a river of sound rushing over him. When Sirius finally stepped out of Remus’ arms to face him, Remus’ expression was uncertain, his hands reluctant to separate from Sirius, as though he was worried he might still try to run. But Sirius stayed, even braved a small smile.

After all, James had told him to communicate and James had never intentionally steered him wrong. Admittedly, James had unintentionally steered him wrong on a number of occasions that had resulted in innumerable detentions while they were at school, more than a few awkward social faux pas as adults, and one near-arrest that Sirius had managed to weasel into a nominal fine. But that was incidental.

“I want to kiss you again.” Sirius stated bluntly, as if reading a line from a script, though his face was burning.

“So kiss me.” Remus returned, equally blunt, and that amused smirk danced on his lips and in his eyes.

“I want to kiss you, but I’m worried I won’t be able to stop.”

“Well that’s good, because I don’t want you to stop.” Remus’ eyebrow, that infamous quirk of his, was raised almost in a challenge now, and his own breathing was shallow, as though he was still recovering from their kiss. Or anticipating their next one. The gesture landed softly in the pit of Sirius’ stomach. There it simmered, rising into a bubbling magma, building pressure, urging Sirius to lunge back into a kiss, to pick up where he left off, communication and consequences be damned. But Sirius forced the swelling heat in his stomach to cool, forced himself to breathe against the urge, at least for now.

“Remus,” Sirius whined instead, “stop making this difficult.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. You want to kiss me, I want to kiss you. I see only one way to resolve this.” Remus goaded with an obstinacy that rivalled Sirius’ own.

“Well you wouldn’t, but it is a problem. A huge problem. A fucking massive problem.”

“Oh dear, if I’d have known we were dealing with such a massive problem, I’d have certainly done something about it sooner.” Remus’ smirk lifted in a devilish twitch of his lips, his teeth poking out to lightly pinch his bottom lip with a seductive look that was nearly successful in crumbling Sirius’ resolve.

“Stop it, Remus!” Sirius groaned, pressing a hand to his own face in an exasperated attempt to resist Remus’ lures, “I’m trying to communicate. James says it’s healthy, so shut up and listen.” The amused expression never left Remus’ face, but he pursed his lips and waited patiently.

Sirius took a deep breath, and expelled his words on a sigh, “I want to kiss you, but I’m worried I won’t be able to stop, which is a problem because I don’t know where this could ever go. Not because I don’t want it to go somewhere. In fact, all I’ve been thinking about is where it might go, but ultimately that can never be more than a fantasy for me. My future is mapped out, every step – no crystal balls required – and it wouldn’t be fair to drag you into this, knowing it’s never going to end well. I want you Remus, but I don’t want to hurt you, and being with me would only end up with both of us hurt.”

There was a long pause as the words lingered between them, just long enough for Sirius to begin regretting ever taking James’ advice in the first place.

“How long have you been holding that in?” Was all Remus said.

“Since the first time we kissed.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” They remained in place, staring into each other’s eyes for several moments. Sirius’ chest thudded in delight at the thought of drowning in the shadows of his eyes despite the nerves twisting vines up his throat.

“Well, don’t you think it’s something I should decide for myself? You’re not exactly dragging me into this.”

“That’s what I said!” Sirius triumphed, forgetting his position for a moment, and then grimaced guiltily at the undoubtedly confusing communication.

“So we’re agreed.” The delicious smirk worked its way back onto Remus’ scheming expression, “I’m a willing participant in… in whatever this is, so let’s get back to that other thing now.”

“No!” Sirius exclaimed, a little too forcefully, and Remus jolted back in surprise, “I- I mean, Christ Remus, I’m really trying here. Do you have any idea how excruciating it is not to be able to back you into a wall right now and snog you senseless?”

Remus glazed over, taking a small shallow gulp, “Why don’t you then?” Another challenge. And oh, how Sirius wanted to show how well he could deliver on his words.

“Look,” Sirius said instead, “we said we’d be friends, so let’s be friends. I won’t disappear and behave all awkward and distant, and you won’t act all- all fucking hot as fuck and keep trying to seduce me!”

“Excuse me?” Remus burst a little incredulously, a daring spark in his gaze as he approached in vitriolic pursuit, “Me seduce you. You must be mistaken, Lord Black.” Remus continued to advance as he spoke, Sirius taking uncertain steps backwards in an attempt to keep the distance between them, but only too aware that he had limited space until he would be trapped against the mirrored panels behind him. “Who was it that was acting all helpless with those useless hands that can’t even do up his own buttons? Who was it that turned up in the middle of the night and started snogging me senseless? Who was it that kissed whom in the first place?”

“Well I-”

“Who was it,” Remus interrupted forcefully, still backing Sirius into his corner as he spoke, “that was begging me to kiss him and batting those ridiculously long eyelashes when all I was trying to do was make sure these hands didn’t bruise?” Remus caught Sirius’ hands by the tips of his fingers, and at the touch a flicker of memory flashed into Sirius’ mind. It vanished again when he found himself, as expected, pressed against the cool glass of the mirror with Remus trapping him there, only an inch of air as a barrier between them. Heat flushed through Sirius’ body at his words and the dangerous glint in his eyes, “Be honest Sirius, and then tell me I’m the one who’s been seducing you. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you’re happy just being friends.”

“I’m happy being friends.” Sirius all but whispered, but the shudder in his voice belied his statement. Remus’ breath ghosted warmth over his lips, the absent pressure of his body taunting with how close he was. And then it was all gone in an instant and Remus was out of reach. Sirius flooded with cold, though his cheeks were still flushed.

“Alright, if you insist.” Remus was infuriatingly calm when he spoke again, the flicker of his smirk already returning, “We’ll be friends. You have my word. I promise, I won’t try to kiss you, I won’t lay a finger on you beyond my professional capacity as your tailor, no matter how gorgeous you look all dressed up in my suits,” Sirius squirmed at the undisguised praise, “Until you ask me to, that is.”

There was a mischievous gleam and a devilish grin and Sirius was lost to the coiling frustration as every particle in his mind and chest was at war with each other, wanting to run, wanting to stay, wanting to plead for Remus to take him there and then in the front of the shop for everyone to see, wanting to beg Remus to keep far away from him by any means necessary.

“As if,” Sirius managed to mumble with his best attempt to scoff at Remus’ arrogant certainty that Sirius would fold so easily, would come running back, begging to kiss him. Still, he found himself unable to meet the heat of Remus’ darkening gaze.

“Well then.” Remus spoke loudly, determined to appear unaffected, and that too familiar overly-polite customer-friendly tone entered his voice, if only to torment Sirius further, “It’s nearly midnight, you have your suit, and I believe Frank has been waiting outside for god knows how long to get you on a train to London first thing in the morning. You’d best be off. Please lock the door behind you, if you don’t mind.”

And with that Remus vanished behind the heavy door at the back, only his sweet, wooded scent lingering in the scattered air he left behind. Sirius gaped at the empty shop left in a tumbling disarray – the aftermath of Remus’ hurried work. Fabric was strewn across the tables, threads spooling loose onto the ground, scraps of templates and wasted half-cut silhouettes hung dismally from the dismembered shoulders of various mannequins. He didn’t even stop to question how Remus knew he’d brought the spare key with him.

Chapter Text

Sirius hadn’t had a sip to drink since New Year’s. Even the reminder of the journey home with Frank, ebbing waves of nausea and the world spinning around him, was enough to give him pause. Then, staggering through a severe scolding from Minerva before collapsing the weight of his aching limbs into the bed, he had once again been given time to ponder his regrets. None of that was why Sirius had stopped drinking, though. He was well-acquainted with the brief moments of sober realisation shattering his carefully cushioned state of inebriation and the throbbing silence that waited for him at the other end. It had never stopped him before. As soon as he found himself once again caught in those piercing maws, pulled deep beneath that same suffocating vacuum of unrelenting obligation, Sirius would forget his regrets and once again crave liquor-fuelled freedom; the cool burn running down his throat and the sting of that bitter after-taste.

The reason he had – after years of dissolute degeneracy and wanton debauchery – finally decided to stop was something far worse. Something that troubled Sirius so deeply, so violently disturbing the foundations upon which he had built his life, he had no choice but to question every decision that had led him to that moment. Because the following day, when his mother had called to reprimand him, he had found it comforting. In lieu of the usual luring call to run amok and wreak havoc, he had instead clung to the rigid clasping rails of his meticulously carved out path, the only thing he knew to be constant, the one truth he would never forget and could never be taken from him: He was Lord Black.

He had drunk in her cruel, severe words lashing disappointment at how his sudden departure had reflected poorly on their noble house. How all she had been thinking of was his wellbeing and this was how he thanked her, by disappearing like a thief in the night. Sirius had hated every moment he was forced to spend listening to her, but he had also clung onto her words like floating debris in a flood, like the final words of a martyr, like the one holy truth that he buried inside himself to fuse with his soul. Because that was how Sirius felt after New Year’s – like a thief. Not for what he had robbed from his mother or her guests, not even for the joy he’d plundered greedily from his friends, nor the kindness he’d pried from Remus’ warm, gentle hands. But for the moments he’d stolen from himself.

And that bothered him.

So, on the second day of the year, Sirius had resolved that he would stop drinking. He had called James and told him as much. And then Sirius had lied. He told him he’d already found help, said that Minerva had found a discrete place, then he promised James that he would be fine. He said nothing more of it to anyone else and when the sweat-dripping panic and the desperate craving chased him deep into the night, he clawed at his thousand thread-count bedsheets and chewed his featherdown pillow until he sunk into fitful dreams. Through it all, he kept a safety net close on hand, under his pillow, in his pocket, and a spare in the back of the saloon buried beneath the seats where Frank would never find it. But always with him, a silver flask engraved with his initials. Enough to hold several sips of clear burning liquid.

Sirius clutched that safety net inside his pocket as he stalked, proud and upright into Westminster. He let the cool metal under his fingers serve as a reminder, even as he waltzed into the chamber, greeting the other peers with whom he was already acquainted with a barely amicable sneer of a smile, and lifting his chin at any askance glances suggesting that perhaps he had made a wrong turn somewhere down the line. This was his birth right, the birth right of every Lord Black since time immemorial, and he would not give anyone a second to think otherwise.

Holding his head aloft, Sirius swept through the chamber in his tightly-stitched, perfect-patched monochrome suit, wrapped in the silk black belt that ran into his lapel at one end, cinching his waist - a seamless border between two asymmetrical halves. The white panels in his jacket shone stark against the high-waisted buttons of his black military trousers, and in the centre of his simple white shirt, he wore a plain black tie. He wore no jewellery beside the signet on his left hand, no makeup save the light peppering of grey eyeshadow under thin, precision-sharp eyeliner. Remus’ suit was all he needed.

The Leader of the House opened the session and the clamouring burble of chatter died away around him. Sirius never stopped fingering at the silver flask in his pocket, clutching onto the sensation of its lightly mottled texture that brushed like tiny spikes across the pads of his fingertips. He cast his gaze behind the Speaker to the empty throne, and behind that, where the golden wall of the royal crest rose tall and assertive up to the carved wooden arches in the ceiling. Sirius tried to focus on the motions being debated, but his attention was drawn to the carvings that swept all around him in dark wood-panelled walls oozing history to be soaked up by the heavily embossed crimson leather of the benches. As his gaze floated around the room, he caught sight of a solitary pair of obsidian eyes watching him – his father’s eyes.

No, not his father. Orion was dead, Sirius reminded himself as he forced down the drumming heartbeat that had scaled the walls of his throat. It was his uncle Cygnus. His uncle, who had bribed or blackmailed any person who dared show the slightest semblance of dissent against Sirius’ election to the empty seat his father had left to him for the taking. If Sirius hadn’t earned his seat by anything other than his name, Cygnus and his loyal conspirators had ensured he’d won it anyway. All Sirius had to do was shut up and do as he was told. Sirius clutched the silver flask tighter in his pocket and turned back to the discussions unfolding before him.

The session ended early, and Sirius was back on the train before the sun had even started to set. Despite this, his tiredness ran bone-deep, dragging his limbs onto the lumpy public transport seats that carried him home. Sirius sunk into the moquette and stared out at the tall buildings rushing by. He scraped the recesses of his mind, plumbed his chest for any residue, something to take back with him to show for his time, but all he found was that same dark abscess floating in murky dregs of nothing. He let himself be consumed by the familiar gaping emptiness, while all around him city lights burned holes in the silhouettes of grey buildings. Until they vanished, replaced by fields upon fields of golden light.

~~~

February haze melted into the dewy blue light of early Spring, and Sirius frequented Lupin’s Sartorial with renewed zeal. Remus seemed driven to keep up with the rate of the visits, completing the remaining business suits, summer suits, and even the tweed hunting jacket that Sirius had requested on a whim. On the rare visit where there was no new suit to fit, Sirius requested that Remus fill in some embellishments he’d had planned, add in a new pocket on this suit, or darn a tear in another. Each time, Sirius felt the maroon walls growing closer, threatening the distance he forced himself to keep. But he couldn’t help the way he reacted to Remus’ gentle hands working around his body, or the smug smirk that followed. So each subsequent visit to the atelier was filled with the increasing suspense of charged silences drifting heavy in the air between them, loud and unspoken.  He returned with the tinkling bell of the door again and again, savouring every temptation he continued to deny himself. Every glimpse of dark mahogany eyes and honey-brown hair, every tooth-bitten smirk, every held breath when Sirius lost himself watching the fluid gestures of the smiling tailor and his nimble hands. Sheer stubbornness propelled him to suffer the unspoken implications that danced in lingering looks and seemingly harmless touches. He had long since given up the pretence – at least to himself – that he wasn’t desperately aching to press his lips to every inch of Remus’ skin. Remus, for his part, upheld his promise and seemed content to watch Sirius’ struggle while he carried on his work with that knowing grin. But he was always a little too close, helping with those nuisance buttons, resting a hand too long after straightening his collar, letting those smouldering brown eyes roam freely over Sirius’ figure, all the while remaining the picture of innocence.

It was the late hours of an afternoon in March, with the sun almost touching the crest of the distant hills, when Sirius returned once again to Lupin’s Sartorial pulsing with anticipation. He’d left his flask at home, though there was still a spare stashed between the car's leather seats in case of emergency. But Sirius was too preoccupied thinking about the thrumming heat between bodies not quite touching. He didn’t even notice the changing landscapes as Frank drove the familiar winding lanes; already lost in a deluge of fantasies that might finally entice Sirius into breaking his resolve. He thought about giving in and begging. He thought about a warm, calloused hand in his own, about those clever fingers tracing lines over his skin. He almost felt the tickling touch ghosting over his lips, his chin, trailing down his neck. Felt the spread of warmth beneath a palm extended over his exposed chest, dragging down and down and down to follow the black hairs against the line of his stomach. A shiver of excitement ran through his body in a shudder of curling heat, as he stirred at the imagined sensation of that same hand ghosting over the seam of his trousers and-

“Lord Black?” Frank’s voice lurched Sirius from his thoughts. “Is it too warm? shall I open the windows?” Sirius blinked a few times at Frank’s concern in the rear-view mirror, where he saw his own face flushed red. Finding his mouth too dry to speak he remained silent, and Frank asked again, “Lord Black, are you quite well?”

“Yes,” Sirius croaked finally, feeling himself blush further, then cleared his throat, “Yes, I’m fine thank you Frank. Actually, it is rather warm in here.”

With a final puzzled glance, Frank cracked the rear window and returned his attention to the narrow road. The cool breeze spiked at the prickling heat on Sirius’ skin and sweet soothing scents of new grass and budding lilacs wafted in with the clear draught. The air cleared Sirius’ head as the world came once again into focus around him, the shaded asphalt blurring beneath the tyres in flashes of light that fell between tall spring leaves. Sirius reminded himself of the boundary he had set in place and comforted himself with more mundane scenarios until he reached that familiar cobbled street, but couldn’t help the anticipation that had once again built up at the thought of Remus’ teasing smirk.

That sweet, light-mocking smile that Sirius had grown used to, glanced up to greet him as it was now in the habit of doing, and Sirius felt himself blush under Remus’ gaze. Remus’s cheeks, too, held a warm pink hue as their eyes met, and Sirius couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Sirius. Just in time.” And with that, Sirius was being swept over to the dressing area where a suit was already hanging, pieced together and waiting for him. He recognised the soft metallic sheen of the fabric from his interim fitting a fortnight earlier, but he had not previously been able to imagine the full effect of the finished suit. The fabric was a deep forest green, almost dark enough to appear black except for the soft spring light floating in dusty haze to highlight its unique hue. Trailing all over the torso and legs of the suit, in golden foil patterns and intricately woven embroidery, traced rivers of gold and blooming flowers. The patterns were abstract swirling lines, only lightly visible against the deep green fabric, but up close the detail was immaculate.

“Remus, this is… gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Remus’ smugness was threaded with a light tone of genuine pleasure at Sirius’ praise, “I bet it will look even better once you put it on.”

Sirius’ gaze darted away from the suit to meet Remus’ melting gaze, flickering with that familiar dangerous heat. Without a word, and keeping their eyes locked, Sirius shed first his shirt and then his trousers until he was standing in only his boxers. Remus didn’t flinch, didn’t drag his eyes down Sirius’ bare torso, though Sirius could see the temptation rising. He kept his eyes on Sirius’ the whole time. Sirius finally broke contact to reach for the suit, pulling the feather-light material over his legs and the crisp black shirt Remus had made over his arms. And then they danced through their usual charade, as Remus drew close to almost touching, both with hitching breaths, to help with the buttons that Sirius no longer attempted to do up himself – not while Remus was there.

By the time Remus was done with the adjustments on the shirt and the trousers – and Sirius was sure there were more than necessary considering Remus’ usual precision – Sirius had lost track of how long he’d been standing there. The world around him was glazed in a heated tint and his head swam with a light dizziness. Then Remus took a step back and the rest of the room, which had previously been eclipsed by Remus’ looming stature, drew back into focus. Sirius blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness, as laughter trickled into Remus’ expression, though none sparked from his lips.

“Pardon?” He asked, once he realised Remus had said something.

“The jacket.” Remus supplied, sounding almost bored save for the hint of mocking in his voice. As if this was a simple exchange between a tailor and his client, and Sirius was being particularly slow for not hearing him the first time. Without protest, Sirius made himself pliable for Remus to drape the jacket over his shoulders, enduring the long, careful strokes of those nimble fingers as he smoothed out the material against Sirius arms. Sirius knew he was being toyed with. Every movement was drawn out, every touch prolonged, every assessment of how the material was fitting his body was examined at excruciating closeness, with warm breaths dragging over Sirius’ skin and gentle touches burning him through the fabric until Sirius was worked up within an inch of his life. He could hardly breathe, desperate to taste that knowing smirk flickering across Remus’ lips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me something?” Remus asked as he did every visit. He fingered at Sirius' collar mindlessly, dragging out the one intimacy of the moment under their shared pretence.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Remus.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Very funny.” Remus' lips quirked, though his eyes were glazed and unfocused. Then the bell to the shop rang and the two sprang apart. Without so much as a warning, a young, cheerful-looking woman burst into the shop and was making her way to the door at the back, when she caught sight of the deep-blushing pair in the dressing corner. She was dressed up in a glittering red top and matching sparkling eyeshadow, her ears, neck and arms were finely decorated in gold chains, though Sirius suspected it wasn’t high carat.

“There you are! I was worried you weren’t in the shop, but what am I thinking, of course you are, you’re always here. Oh sorry, am I interrupting something? You better see to your face, hon, it’s looking quite guilty. Never were any good at poker. And who’s this then? But aren’t you pretty. Remus, you’ve been holding out on us. No wonder he’s gone all red, bet he was in the process of seducing you – if he hasn’t already of course.” The woman’s words erupted in an endless stream directed at Sirius with a wink, as the edges of her smile curved upwards into a salacious grin. “That’s our Remus, don’t let him fool you with all his proper manners and polite way, he’ll charm you right into-”

“Mary!” Remus erupted, finally gathering himself from the shock of the intrusion and the onslaught of chatter. Sirius watched bewildered. “Would you kindly shut it? I’m with a- a customer”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Remus,” her grin grew wicked, but her eyes twinkled with kindness as she spoke, “am I embarrassing you in front of your… customer?” She looked expectantly between the two men, but Remus buried his head in his hands over Sirius' shoulder, reduced to muttering to himself in Welsh. Sirius, regaining his composure and remembering himself, took a striding step towards the woman, offering a hand and his most charming smile.

“Lord Sirius Black.” He said, dispensing with the rest of his titles, since he had the impression they wouldn't mean much. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Mary, likewise.” She purred, taking his outstretched hand, which he raised to his lips, leaving a chaste kiss on her hand, “What a gentleman, and I am single, in case you’re interested.”

“He’s not.” Remus muttered sharply from behind Sirius, where he had taken to looming protectively against the new intruder.

“I’m not.” Sirius confirmed with a small regretful smile, but he returned Mary’s approving gaze with a flirtatious wink, “Though of all the beautiful women I’ve met, you might be the one to tempt me.”

“Ooh flatterer, what a shame. Well, I’m sure you’ll be well-looked after in Remus’ capable hands.” And Sirius, debonair though he was, couldn’t help but blush deeper as he was reminded of the man, now so close behind him that he could feel warm puffs of breath against the hairs on his neck.

“Mary, what are you doing here?” Remus interrupted impatiently, from over Sirius’ shoulder.

“Oh hon, don’t tell me you forgot?”

“Forgot what?” He groaned, the exasperation palpable and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder if it was for his benefit that Remus seemed so put out at his friend’s arrival.

“Your birthday?” Mary clicked her tongue as she cocked her head forward expectantly, and Sirius felt Remus untense behind him with another groan.

“It’s your birthday?” Sirius asked, and Remus replied “No” with insistence at the same time as Mary’s emphatic “Yes”.

“No,” Remus stated again firmly and then heaved a put-upon sigh, all the while Mary’s grin grew wider, “It’s not my birthday, but I believe I did have plans with Mary today. Unfortunately, I seem to have mixed up my schedule.”

“You were hoping to get out of it, weren’t you?” Mary asked with an eyebrow raised in suspicion, as she folded her arms. Standing more than a foot shorter than both Sirius and Remus, Mary’s attempts at appearing stern fell a little short. “Well tough, you already agreed. You don’t mind, do you Sirius?”

“No, no, of course not! I can come back tomorrow.”

“Sirius-”

“Now don’t be daft, you’re coming too, of course.”

“I am?”

“He is?”

“Of course he is. I’m sure you were planning on keeping him all to yourself, but you can’t expect me not to want to vet him Remus.”

“Mary, please…”

“No, I won’t take no for an answer. What do you say Sirius, you want to come help us celebrate another year of Remus being his wonderful grouchy self, don’cha?”

“Of course I do.” Sirius’ grin matched Mary’s and Remus now glanced between the two of them warily, before conceding defeat.

“Fine, but behave Mary. Actually, you too, Sirius. You know what, nevermind, maybe I’ll just stay here.”

“Nope, it’s done Remus. I’ll wait by the counter so you two can… finish up.”

“You don’t need to-” Remus began to protest at Mary’s insinuations but she vanished with a conspiratorial wink towards Sirius, leaving the two of them as alone again behind the partition. “I’m sorry about Mary, she’s…” he gesticulated with directionless motions, and then shrugged wearily.

“She seems great.”

“Trouble with childhood friends isn’t it,” Remus raised his voice slightly, directing it over the top of the wood-panels “Can’t seem to get rid of them.”

“Oi, just for that you’re buying me a drink.” Came the sharp reply somewhere further down the shop, and Remus gave a fond laugh.

“Well, I suppose the finishing touches will have to wait. I’ll just…” And Sirius gestured around him at the clothes he’d strewn carelessly on the floor in his shameless attempts to seduce the same man he had himself forbidden from doing anything untoward.

“Er… right, I’ll leave you to it.” He brushed a sheepish hand through his hair, backing out of the dressing area to join Mary. Sirius was left alone again in front of the mirror. With a sidelong glance at his reflection, he changed quickly and popped out to find Remus and Mary chatting quietly by the counter. Remus was chuckling lightly and Mary poked out her tongue, but they were speaking too low for Sirius to make out any words.

“All sorted,” he announced, making his presence known, and Remus turned to him with a twinkling smile. Their gazes lingered on each other for a moment, and then there was a pointed cough from Mary who was looking between the two of them with a kittenish curve on her lips. Sirius smiled to himself, and went ahead out to the street, while Mary helped Remus close up, but he couldn’t help overhearing the low whisper pass behind him.

“Oh dear, hon. You’re a bit gone, aren’t you?”

~~~

For the first time in his life, Sirius felt out of his depth in a social situation. Despite it still being afternoon, the pub was a rippling burble of noise. Crackling music hummed through a single set of speakers in the far corner hanging over a raised platform that served as a stage for the no doubt infrequent live performances. It didn’t exactly seem like the busiest social spot, and it was clear that the lively turnout was all for Remus’ benefit. From the moment they entered, half a dozen people had come up to greet Remus, exchanging pleasantries or bringing him a drink, even when he already had one and was forced to politely decline, all with that gentle, warm smile of his that had Sirius’ insides winding into knots. He felt entirely out of place and certain that his usual effortless charisma and exuding importance that carried him through the gatherings of society’s upper echelons would be meaningless here. Nevertheless, he bore the interrogation from Remus’ friends with a dazzling smile and that winning charm.

“And what is it you said you do?”

“He’s a lord, Mary. He does lord-y things.” Remus dragged out the impatience in his voice, but laughter echoed in his words in fond appreciation of his friend.

“I’m a duke, actually. And I spend most of my time in board meetings, charity events, boring social stuff.”

“Don’t forget parliament,” Remus added, betraying his earlier apparent dismissiveness, now seeming almost proud to show Sirius off to his friends, which was a novel feeling for Sirius who had rarely known anyone be proud of him. Other than James, of course, but that was mostly for ridiculous things like setting the record for the furthest underwear thrown on the roof of their old dormitory house.

“It’s not all that much, I turn up every now and then and listen to actual experts give their opinions on the state of the country.”

“Sounds impressive,” Mary nodded, but she seemed to still be evaluating something beyond Sirius’ words. It was not unlike the appraisals he was used to getting from Remus, but much less scrutinising. Mary seemed curious, but she didn’t pierce his soul the way Remus did when he was simply watching Sirius with calm, inquisitive eyes and his crinkling brow.

“It’s really not.”

“And where do you live?” asked the blond portly fellow by his other shoulder, Peter, another of Remus’ childhood friends.

“Staffordshire,” Sirius answered, not at all put out by the interrogation, even as Remus shook his head silently in the background.

“Pretty far to come for a suit.” Peter commented, sounding a little sceptical.

“He came highly recommend by a friend and I’ve since discovered for myself that Remus’ work is worth the journey.” Sirius glanced up at Remus as he spoke, delighting at the warm blush spreading over his cheeks and another soft exchange of small smiles.

“That he is.” Mary’s chin jutted proudly. “Bet you couldn’t find anyone like our Remus in all your fancy aristocratic circles.”

“You know, I’d wager you’re right, Mary.” Sirius was all too happy to agree. “And our country is poorer for it.”

“Hear, hear!” Peter added.

“Utter nonsense, honestly the lot of you.” Remus mumbled in his embarrassment.

“Well I for one could use another drink,” Peter announced, holding up his empty pint glass, “Sirius, I see you’re without, what are you having?”

“Oh, no, none for me, thank you Peter.” Peter shrugged and headed over to the bar, not noticing the curious glance Remus gave Sirius. Sirius pretended not to notice either, turning to Mary to ask more about the work involved in her freelance business.

As the conversation flowed on with ease, afternoon wore into evening and at some point a cake was brought out. Remus groaned into his hands, ears burning red with embarrassment. Throughout the milling conversations, Sirius kept catching Remus’ gaze and couldn’t help but smile when he saw the mirthful glimmer in his eyes and the slight lift at the corner of his lips each time. It was enough to bolster Sirius’ confidence and he abandoned all pretence at lordly airs, falling easily into conversation with Mary, Peter, and a few others who drifted in and out of the conversation at various points. He found out that Mary and Peter had been in primary school with Remus, had gotten up to all kinds of trouble with him, though nothing to the scale of Sirius and James’ delinquency, and they had been distraught when they found out he’d be moving to a fancy boarding school in London. Nothing was mentioned about Remus’ brief stint at university, but if Sirius had any doubts that his friends were happy he’d found his way back to the little atelier, their excited recollections told him as much.

“Oh and he was such a sweet little thing back then. Should have seen how petrified he was the first time he had to handle an unhappy customer.”

“Excuse you, I was a hardened young man.”

“Oh yes, very big and tough. Mind you, he’s always been a gentle giant, this one-”

“Oh! Oh!” Peter jumped in, “but do you remember back in school. He was tiny.”

“We were all tiny. We were in primary.”

“Yeah, but you looked like you could have been carried off by the wind.”

“I’ll carry you off,” Remus threatened with a not-so-menacing laugh.

“Always such a flirt, Remus.” Sirius grinned, joining in the conversation like he had known the three of them his whole life. More than once that evening, surrounded by fond memories and merriment that Sirius drank up by the word, he imagined another life for himself. One where he wasn’t the heir to an ancient and noble house. One where he was an average nobody, with an average nobody job. He imagined, on a whim, uprooting his life, abandoning his grand halls and stately titles, moving to this middle-of-nowhere village and making a home for himself. Imagined how nice it would be if this were a regular Friday evening, with music and laughter and friends. If at night he could go home to a poky little flat above a quaint little atelier, and wake up the next morning to brown eyes and mugs of tea.

“That was a fancy suit earlier,” Mary said with a curious note in her voice, interrupting Sirius where he had been watching Remus leaning over the bar and laughing with the landlord, after Peter had disappeared to the bathroom. “Remus obviously put a lot of work into it. What’s the occasion?”

“Oh,” If he was being honest, Sirius hadn’t had an occasion in mind back in November when he had put in order after frantic order so that he could be sure he was occupying Remus’ thoughts every hour, not knowing then when he would next see him. Nevertheless, the new year had brought with it a flurry of galas and balls and other social occasions smattering throughout Sirius’ calendar. “I’m meant to be attending a red-carpet event. For some premiere or something, I’m not sure really, they asked me to attend as a representative shareholder, since the Black estate invested in the production.”

“Your estate invested… and you don’t even know what it is?”

“I don’t really manage that side of things. It’s done in my name, but I have accountants, and my housekeeper, to handle the more day-to-day affairs.”

“Well la-di-dah,” Mary sung as Remus returned to join them, handing a glass of house wine over to Mary and nursing his own in the other hand, “Remus, did you hear? Sirius is going to be wearing your suit to some fancy red-carpet – apparently it’s all very boring.”

Remus stifled a smirk, as he turned straight-faced with raised eyebrows and amusement in his eyes, to Sirius, “Oh is that so? I’m honoured, I had no idea my suits were red-carpet worthy.”

“And what else would I wear?” Sirius snarked his retort, relishing Remus’ widening smile at his reply. “It’s not like I keep a second tailor stashed away for the fancy events. You are officially high-end couture.”

“I wish someone would have told me sooner. I’d have put a bit more effort in.” He snorted.

“Oh, hon. It’s cute that you think I won’t call you out. Don’t listen to him, Sirius, he’s never made anything half that grand for any of his other customers. It’s obvious you’re special.”

“Oh, special am I?”

“Mary, who’s side are you on?” Remus chided with laughter in his eyes.

“My own, of course. And right now I am very invested in whatever,” she wagged a finger between the two of them, “is going on here.”

“Nothing’s going on here.” Remus shrugged, but took a deep gulp of his drink without making eye contact. Sirius noted the slight pink rising to his cheeks and grinned.

“He’s right. I’ve already turned him down.” He goaded, watching Remus for his reaction. Remus, to Sirius’ satisfaction, looked up abruptly at this, both eyebrows raised and that challenging glint. Sirius wanted him to never look away again, to have Remus always watching him with his eyes hungry and flaring with excitement.

“Oh, you turned me down, did you?” Came the low, careful demand.

“Well you’re the one waiting for me to ask.”

“Only because we both know what you really want.”

“And I suppose you don’t care either way.”

“Did I say that?”

“Okay, okay, I’ve changed my mind, I don’t care.” Mary cut in, attempting to break the staring contest by waving her hands between the two, “This is too dumb, just go snog in the bathroom or something.”

“Mary!” Remus laughed through his scandalised indignance, finally breaking the gaze they were locked in.

“What? You obviously both want to.” Both men fell silent, unable to defend themselves against Mary’s observations. She gave them both a knowing look, and then continued to sip her drink entrenched in the satisfaction of being right. Sirius just smiled to himself and ignored the guilty pang in his chest. Of course he wanted to. That didn’t change the fact that Sirius had a history worth of family expectations and ritual obligations hanging over his head, ready to drop the minute he attempted to go after any shred of happiness for himself.

“What did I miss?” Peter returned to the three of them in awkward silence, with an oblivious grin.

“Oh just discussing how all men are idiots.”

“Ah, that old chestnut.” Peter nodded dolefully, taking his seat next to Remus.

~~~

When they finally left the pub, there was a light chill in the air. The sky was pitch dark and cloudless with only the small, distant moon and a scattering of stars glinting out of reach beyond the empty streetlights overhead. Mary and Peter turned away from the village to walk home down country lanes, waving goodbye to Remus and Sirius who set off back up the cobbled street. They walked side by side, quiet for a while, enjoying the still calm of the empty street with the receding noise of the pub behind them. Sirius was conscious of how close Remus was, and once or twice their hands brushed as they walked, but never joined. He almost thought Remus was reaching out to loop their fingers together, but at the last moment he raised his arm to run brush the hair away from his eyes, still smiling at the ground beneath their feet.

“That was… lovely.” Sirius mumbled, not sure quite how to express the warmth that had been coiling in the pit of his stomach all evening, a sensation that was only becoming more turbulent now that he and Remus were alone again.

“I’m sorry, I know my friends can be a bit much. This whole village can be. It’s both wonderful and suffocating when everyone within a mile has known you your whole life.”

“They were lovely,” Sirius said again, more insistent. “I’m glad I came. I mean, thank you for inviting me.”

“Technically Mary invited you.”

“Alright, well pass along my thanks next time you see her.”

“I’ll do just that.” They shared a brief glance, both unable to suppress the bubbling smiles, and just for a moment Remus’ fingers made contact with Sirius’. “Thank you for coming, Sirius. I… I’m glad I got to celebrate my birthday with you.” The coiling warmth rose up in Sirius’ chest, swooping beneath his ribs at Remus’ still-smiling blush.

“I thought it wasn’t your birthday.” Sirius grinned.

“Well, it’s my pretend birthday, so as good as.” Remus poked his tongue out, wrinkling his noise, and they continued up the street, still side by side, though the brief shared moment had ended.

“When is your real birthday?”

“Next week.”

“How come you’re not celebrating then?” But Remus didn’t answer, and they walked the remaining few steps in silence.

“It’s getting late.” Remus stated, coming to a stop in front of the atelier. Sirius was solely focused on Remus, so much so that he didn’t even notice the space between them lessening as they gradually leaned in. The sliver of silver light from the moon was the only thing illuminating them beneath the ageing fascia. It cast a shadow over Remus’ eyes, but Sirius imagined he could see that cautious, deep mahogany gaze staring back at him nonetheless.

“Right… I should be getting home.”

“Or you could stay?”

“Stay?” Sirius ventured dangerously.

“Maybe not on the sofa this time…”

“Yeah?” There was a voice in his head telling him to stop. To put them both out of their misery, to not walk down the path that he knew led to a sheer-faced cliff. But there was another voice that whispered in hushed excitement, why not jump?

“If you wanted, of course.”

“What about your promise?”

“All you have to do is ask.” Came the low reply, “And I think, what with it being my birthday and all, it’s the least you could do.”

“Remus, I-”

“I know you’ve said, and I know I promised,” he added hurriedly, “but the offer’s there… if you want it.”

“I want it.”

“So ask me.” They were so close now that Sirius could taste the afternotes of wine on Remus’ breath.

“Remus…” He was so close, so close to leaning in, removing that last millimetre. He could almost feel the gentle pressure of Remus’ lips pressing against his.

But Sirius didn’t move. He stayed staring desperately into Remus’ eyes in a silent plea for him to break his promise without making Sirius choose a path when he already knew what was waiting at the end. Moments passed and Sirius did nothing. That seemed to be enough of an answer for Remus.

“Ahh, what am I saying.” Remus chuckled, backing away with a tired grin, “Must’ve had too much to drink. What time is Frank coming to collect you?” Sirius remained motionless, pausing as his hand twitched at his side, almost reaching out to pull Remus close again. Remus seemed to sense it too, even in the growing distance there was a hopefulness in his sad expression.

“I told him midnight,” Sirius sighed, “he’s probably already waiting.” He gestured to the end of the road where he could vaguely make out the silhouette of the long black saloon.

“I’ll see you then, Sirius,” and Remus turned his gaze back to the pavement, running a hand through his hair with another awkward chuckle.

“Yeah, see you.” And Sirius still didn’t move, even as Remus turned away to unlock the shop entrance, thinking about how easy it would be to say ‘Never mind. Let’s go upstairs. Let everyone else be damned, Remus, I want you.’ But when he opened his mouth to speak, he only managed a weak, “Remus-”

“Yes?” Remus turned as he stepped inside, now waiting expectantly in the entrance, standing slightly to the side, perhaps inadvertently leaving enough space that Sirius would be able to just barely slip through, their bodies almost touching.

“Happy birthday.” Sirius finished, from the cold, dark street. He tried to smile, but it barely pierced his cheeks. Remus’ answering smile was just as hopeless.

“Good night, Sirius.” And he disappeared into the atelier, consumed by the shadows and the faint tinkle of a bell as the door clicked shut.

~~~

Remus didn’t call to reschedule Sirius’ fitting. A fortnight passed and Sirius had still not heard from Remus. He tried phoning the shop himself, but the dial tone had rung out to nothing. All the while Sirius raced circles around his mind, thinking about what he should have done, what he should have said, what would have happened if he’d just said yes that night. Thinking about another reality where he’d followed Remus up to the cramped flat and let himself be pulled into Remus’ arms, let himself be swept away in the fantasy that all those sweet flirtations and illicit touches could lead to something different, something unexpected and exciting and wonderful. Night after night Sirius found himself driven to distraction with thoughts of Remus’ hands and lips tracing loving caresses over his body. Night after night spent tormenting himself with imagined touches and whispered exchanges. All without a sip to drink. It was torture.

“It’s torture, James!” Sirius whined, as the horses drove around the track on their third or fourth furlong – Sirius had lost track on account of not paying attention. Surrounded on all sides by fine suits and opulent hats, tumbling with feathers and silk and lace, Sirius leaned carelessly backwards against the railing, oblivious to the dramatics of the race unfolding behind him. He squinted up at the sun, tilting his head back further to catch the slight hint of warmth on his face.

“What did I tell you?” James only muttered in that knowing tone of his, clutching a betting slip in his hand, his eyes never leaving the track. Dirt kicked up behind the horses’ feet as they galloped round the grassy track, nearly spattering James’ shirt from where he was pressed over the railing. James jutted forward in earnest excitement, though the look on his face was caught between being disgruntled from Sirius’ badgering and furrowed in concentration.

“You told me to communicate. And I did. But I see him and I can’t help myself. Now he won’t even speak to me. Oh god, what if he stops being my tailor?”

“Then that would be his prerogative.  You can’t kiss your tailor and expect him to carry on business as usual.”

“Well you can’t blame me for that. Have you seen him?” Sirius cried incredulously.

“I have, as a matter of fact.”

“And?” Sirius prompted incredulously, refusing to believe that even James was immune to Remus’ charms.

“He’s alright.”

“Alright? James he’s fucking gorgeous. And god that smile and his eyes – James have you seen them they’re like melting chocolate… or- or mahogany… and those hands…” Sirius groaned in frustration and unsated want.

“Alright, alright, he’s hot. Spare me the details, would you?”

“As if I haven’t heard you gushing over this or that girl’s heaving bosoms.”

“I have never. Ever. Not once in my life. Used the expression ‘heaving bosoms’, thank you very much.”

“I feel like you’re not hearing me. He’s fucking gorgeous, James, and I can’t do anything about it. Especially after I made such a big deal about us just being friends. And he knows it too, the smug bastard. Said he wouldn’t kiss me until I asked him to.”

James laughed heartily at that, drawing his focus away from the horses hurtling away from them for a brief moment to direct his laughter directly at him. Sirius did not appreciate it.

“Whose side are you on!”

“I’m sorry, Sirius. It sounds incredibly inconvenient for you, but Lupin’s got you pegged.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, no. It’s genius really. Doesn’t take half a minute alone with you to realise what a stubborn git you can be, and now he’s got you in a position where you have to ask for him to kiss you. It’s brilliant. I must give him my compliments when I next see him.”

“Oi! I will not have you two colluding against me. You leave Remus alone.” Sirius glowered defensively and James, still chuckling, held his hands up in mock resignation.

“Don’t worry, Padfoot, I won’t go near your man.”

“James, you’re meant to be sympathetic. Woe is me, and all that. Here I am with this bloody Noble and Most Ancient thorn in my side and all its bloody strings, and all you can do is laugh.”

“Look, I know I told you to communicate, but I didn’t realise you were planning on drawing a line like that. What were you thinking? Trying to be friends with Remus, honestly, Sirius. A blind person could see how badly you’ve got it for him. And I don’t blame him for wanting to torture you a bit after all the back-and-forth. I told you not to mess him about.”

“You made it sound like he’s this poor, wounded creature who needed protecting. But no, he’s a cruel, cruel man who just wants me to suffer.”

“Look, Sirius. Of course it’s miserable and you know how I feel about your family. If I had my way… anyway. I wish it were simple, I wish I could just snap my fingers like your very own fairy godmother so you two could have your happily ever after. But it is a bit of a tricky mess, and you’re the only person who can decide what to do with that. Either you want to be with him, in which case you’re going to have to figure out a way to reconcile that with your… situation. Or, you’ve decided you can’t, and you have to move on. And let him move on as well. If he’s half as into you as you are into him, this can’t be all that fun for him either.”

“Well it’s not like he’ll even speak to me now.” Sirius grumbled.

“He will. I’m sure he’ll come round soon enough. And whatever you decide, I support you, you know that. But Sirius, this friends thing that you’re trying is going to wind up with one or both of you miserable. If you’re going to be friends eventually, you need to give it time. And space.”

“Alright Einstein, what do you suggest I do then?” James pretended to ponder for a moment, tapping his chin in a caricature of thought, while still casting side-long glances as the horses sped by again, and then came the abrupt reply.

“Italy.”

“Pardon?”

“Italy.”

“No, I heard you, wanker. What do you mean, ‘Italy’?”

“Well, I’m sure you’re well aware and already executing several plans that have been months in the making to celebrate the anniversary of the greatest gift ever given to this planet…”

“I thought Dorcas was born in June.”

James rolled his eyes, unamused, “I am of course referring to yours truly,” he swept his hands down his own body with a flourish and a slight preen.

“Oh shit, mate. Sorry, I completely forgot after the tenth weekly reminder that your birthday was coming up.” Sirius responded drably. “’fraid we’ll have to give it a miss this year.”

“Not by any means, my dear fellow. For you see I have devised a most entertaining, most enthralling, most jubilant-”

“Prongs, for god’s sake, I’m growing old here!”

“Italy. For my birthday. My uncle Gerald is letting me use his villa. Something about tax breaks or something, blah blah blah. Anyway, point is – you, me, and three weeks in Tuscany.”

“Shit, really? Fuck I’ll have to cancel the boat…”

“You got me a boat?” James exclaimed in wide-eyed excitement, only to be met with Sirius’ unimpressed blank stare. “Right, sorry, yes better cancel that,” James slumped into a pout, and then rapidly recovered with a loud un-lordly whoop directed at the racetrack where number three had broken away from the group, gaining on the frontrunners.

“So how about it? You need some distance, mate. Change of scene will do you some good, get you out of your gloomy old mansion and all that broody wallowing- don’t think I don’t know,” James pressed as he saw Sirius about to interject, “because I’ve spoken to Minnie. We compare notes. So what say you? It’ll give you some time to figure out your Remus problem?”

“Does it have a pool?” Sirius questioned, still sulking through a pout.

“But of course!”

“Fine. I suppose I could be convinced.”

“Good man.” James nodded in approval, before letting out another loud whoop, as his horse barged into second place in the last hair of the finish line.

Chapter Text

The end of March found Sirius and James lounging under the golden sun next to a glistening clear blue pool outside Uncle Gerald’s villa in Tuscany. The villa stood proudly at the top of a hill, looking out over orange-green fields, sloping vineyards, and groves of cypresses on all sides. Sirius was in no hurry to rush out into the tourist-crowded streets of Florence. Instead he spent several days in directionless decadence, content to mooch around enjoying lazy hours reclined in the sun, playing cards with James and lolling about the airy flagstoned rooms, when midday started to burn a little too hot. For days he did nothing and saw no one, save the staff who lived in scattered houses around the villa, ready to serve their every whim. Meals were prepared at regular intervals, and drinks or snacks brought out to them on request. But hidden all the while, between every beseeching offer of help, that hollow question rung between his ears: What do you want? And when he closed his eyes, despite the sun’s kiss against his skin, he was transported to the night chill on a silent cobbled street, watching Remus disappear into maroon painted shadows. But if Sirius’ life in Godric Hall was opulent and easy-going, it was nothing compared to the wastrel days lounging around soaking in the Italian sun. He did his best to be content sipping on cool virgin cocktails garnished from the fresh-plucked flowerbeds teeming with herbs and a smattering of strawberry plants just beginning to bud. It was almost enough, surrounded by clear skies and a warm breeze carrying fragrant scents from Tuscan fields, to push nagging doubts from his mind.

After four or five days of endless leisure, Sirius was growing restless, and he sensed James was too – mostly from the tell-tale sound of a door slamming at the crack of dawn, signalling that James had resumed his habit of going for an early-morning run. By the end of the week, Sirius was up before James had even left, though he could hear the familiar scrabbling of James moving about his room as he got ready to go out. Scrawling a quick note to explain his absence, Sirius hopped on the electric blue motorbike he’d rented and soared past sweeping fields down wide country roads into the city.

The idea of sight-seeing held little interest for Sirius, who had only memories of being told to stand straight-backed in silent for interminable hours while his mother appraised the art exhibits or scrutinised the seemingly endless paragraphs of text in museums when all Sirius wanted to do was climb the giant statues. He knew those laborious days being dragged around London were far behind him, but like many things, Walburga Black had ruined such activities for Sirius. He had no desire to sit in stifling silence at an opera, nor to be shooed and shushed around one of the hundreds of chapels or churches dotted around Florence. Instead he spent a leisurely morning drinking rich Italian coffee (which was perfect), peering disdainfully over his sunglasses at enamoured couples strolling arm-in-arm (slightly less enjoyable), and flipping through an Italian newspaper that he had no real ability or intention to read, instead taking inspiration from the images to concoct his own preposterous stories of scandal and intrigue. He imaged that the woman giving a speech on page five was apologising for an affair she’d had with the young man by her shoulder; that the gentle-eyed elderly man on page seventeen was actually an international war-criminal; that the important-looking suit on the front had been exposed as a high-level conman who’d swindled the global elite for millions. When he’d tipped back his fifth espresso and become too restless to continue his irregular amusements, he took to the shopping streets and began perusing for something he could bring back for Frank and Minerva. And, he supposed, Dorcas, who’d declined to join them in favour of a trip up to Alice’s estate with the girls. Something hideously gauche, of course.

That was how Sirius found himself wandering past a street of high-end fashion shops when something caught his eye in the window of an Italian tailor shop. He doubled back, peering in at a well-stitched suit made of a familiar shimmering purple-black material. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but there was a resemblance to a certain Welsh tailor’s handiwork, and he was drawn in by the association. He knew it was a little ridiculous, after promising James he would try to put his infatuation from his mind for a while, but Sirius had found himself seeking out Remus wherever he could, and lately everything reminded him in some way. He couldn’t then very well have stopped himself entering the Italian boutique to rummage through the suits, knowing full-well he had no intention of buying anything.

Entering the store, Sirius was hit with a familiar smell of fine fabrics. The shop appeared empty, without so much as a concierge to greet him, but Sirius took no qualms in intruding and he did find it such a bore dealing with those cloyingly well-mannered customer service types – with one obvious exception. Inhaling the scent deeply, Sirius rifled through a few pre-made suits hanging along one side of the airy store. Even if he was loathe to admit it, they were remarkably good. Almost as good as Remus’. But Sirius felt a tug of pride preventing him for admitting anything further. He still maintained that Remus was unparalleled even if he was a little biased. Still, he couldn’t deny the skill in these suits, even unfitted as they were.

“Sirius?” He stopped in his tracks at the familiar voice, then whipped around, at first thinking that perhaps he had been so busy day-dreaming that his mind had tricked him into imagining he’d heard the voice out loud.

But there, finely dressed as ever in a fitted green-checked waistcoat, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his elbows as though he’d been working, and his hands shoved lazily into his pocket, was Remus. There were those same lips that Sirius could still feel ghosting his own, those same eyes that floated up in his mind whenever he closed his eyes, but now they were agape in wide surprise. There, undeniably before him, was Remus. And with him that hammering thud of a question returned, always demanding. What did he want.

“Remus… what are you doing here?”

“I work here.” Remus shrugged, as if it was obvious, as if it made sense, as if it wasn’t the first time Sirius had even thought of, let alone witnessed, Remus existing anywhere other than that cobbled stone village nestled beneath lush green valleys. Then Remus’ eyes narrowed with suspicion, as he asked, “And what exactly are you doing here?”

Sirius’ insides swirled in a churning deluge of caffeine and panic and he found himself stammering out a guilty explanation, “This isn’t what it looks like! I saw… so I thought- and so I came in, but I wasn’t going to buy anything, I swear!”

“I see.” Remus had been watching Sirius with a perplexed but nonetheless faintly amused expression, and at this the corners of his mouth started to rise into the threat of a mirthful smirk, but he held his composure, and stifled a grin.

“I’m not… it’s not what it looks like…”

“So,” Still, Remus maintained his cool composure but the smirk that he kept off his lips was already glistening in his eyes, “you’re not cheating on me with another tailor?”

“I’d never!” Sirius burst in a guilt-ridden denial, until he noticed that Remus was now openly laughing at him. “I mean…”

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, plucking the sunglasses he’d tucked onto his collar, and brushing them back through his hair, as he tried to make sense of the situation he now found himself in. With a deep sigh, the shock rolled away from his tensed shoulders and the reality of the situation caught up to him. He was forced to confront the fact that he hadn’t seen or heard from Remus in nearly a month, knowing that it was likely down to his own actions. Even if Sirius had repeatedly whined to James about Remus being a cruel, teasing devil, he could hardly blame Remus for not wanting to see him after the way he’d left things. A similar thought process seemed to go through Remus’ mind as the smile slowly slipped off his face, and he returned to looking perplexed, a hint more confused than amused. Sirius’ gaze sank to the floor, unable to hide the guilt that now floated upon his face for different, more palpable, reasons.

“The… the suit at the front of the store. I thought… I thought the fabric looked similar so I came in here just to see, just-” because it reminded him of Remus, Sirius barely stopped himself from saying. He was supposed to be getting over Remus, supposed to be leaving him alone, not pushing and pulling at him like he had been for the last few months. But that push and pull was still tugging at Sirius, unspooling the glowing thread connected to what he might think was his heart, if a Lord of the House of Black were capable of having such a thing.

“You have a good eye.” Was all Remus said, and Sirius was taken aback by the calm, almost impressed, tone of Remus’ voice, though any indication of his thoughts was tucked behind a still-small hint of a smirk and his otherwise stone-blank expression. He continued in a neutral matter-of-fact manner, without any acknowledgement that only a few weeks ago he had asked Sirius to sleep with him and been turned down for the hundredth time. “It’s the same fabric. Actually, a lot of the materials for your suits came from here. This is-”

“Remus, did you find the call book?” A gruff voice painted with a thick rolling accent came echoing from elsewhere in the shop, which seemed to be a maze of suits extending beyond what Sirius had imagined in the crowded city streets, and eventually a man emerged. The suit he wore was immaculate, but everything about him seemed gnarled and rough around the edges. His hair hung long and loose around his shoulders, his face was creased from the sun and he walked with an uneven gait, landing slightly heavier on one leg with each step.

“Sorry… I, uh, got distracted.” Remus answered when the man came into view with an expectant glare.

“And who is this, Remus?” The man’s gaze was harsh, but there was kindness in the way he said Remus’ name, with a rolling ‘r’ and soft elongated vowels. “A friend of yours?”

Drawing his lips into a grimace of a smile, Remus answered, “Sirius, this is Alastor Moody. Al, this is… uhm…”

Sirius jumped in, the formal introduction being almost second nature, “Sirius Black the Third, Duke of Sutherland, Marquess of Stafford, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He left out any mention of his Noble and Most Ancient House, though he saw a distinct flicker of recognition in the old man’s eyes as he extended a cordial hand. Sirius shifted uncomfortably at the idea of being identified so far from home, but didn’t allow any trace of the disturbance to show on his face, steeled into a haughty composure of poise.

“Is that right?” Alastor pondered, as he gave Sirius a firm but fleeting handshake, “And how do you know Remus?” His was a hard, punishing stare, which Remus didn’t helping by blushing so obviously. Fortunately Alastor’s attention was trained on Sirius.

“He’s a client of mine,” Remus mumbled, “friend of the Potters.”

“Ah, a good sort then? Always trust Euphemia’s judgement on a character. She knows how to pinch the wheat from the chaff.” Alastor nodded, apparently Sirius had earned his approval simply by association, and he silently blessed James wherever he was at that moment.

“Yeah… yes, he’s a good sort.” Remus confirmed to Alastor, without a glance towards Sirius, the curve of his cheeks tinged pink, but he moved on with steadfast determination, “Alastor here is an excellent tailor, and an old family friend. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to show you a suit… if that’s what you were after.”

“Oh would I?” Alastor interrupted, with a scathing glance between the pair of them, and Remus’ blush deepened. “He is your customer, Remus, so I think you should be seeing him, no?”

Remus started to object, but Sirius jumped in, “Actually, if you’ll excuse me, I’m not here for a suit. Remus, I’m glad I ran into you. If… I’ll be in the area for a couple of weeks still, if… well, here’s the address,” Sirius produced one of the villa’s address cards from his pocket, extending it out to Remus, who seemed hesitant but took it none the less. “You look busy, apologies for the disruption. I should be going now.”

“Now wait just a moment.” Alastor’s voice rung clear and loud, halting Sirius before he could turn to leave. “Remus, this is your friend, no? A visitor in our beautiful city? I think you should not leave him to wander alone – he might get lost.” And then turning to Sirius, he asked, “You are new to our city, yes?”

“Yes.” Sirius answered without a moment’s hesitation, though it wasn’t exactly true. He’d visited a handful of times, without ever bothering to explore much. “Yes, it’s all very unfamiliar territory.”

“Then you need a guide. Remus, take the rest of the day off.”

“But what about the-”

“No, no buts, Remus. Where are your manners? I have managed fine without you for most of forty years; I can manage again for one afternoon. Now go, sciò!” Alastor’s word, it seemed, was final, and Remus was the one left gaping as Alastor dismissed them both with a wave of his hand and turned back into the rows of suits lining the shop, disappearing from sight.

“Sorry.” Sirius spoke immediately, and though it was nothing he’d seen from Remus before, he was unsurprised at the scowl that followed.

“Well, where would you like to go?” Remus sighed, a frown still pinching his brow as he folded his arms across his chest, his mood turning sour at the sudden dismissal.

“You don’t have to…”

“No, no, I would hate for you to get lost, since it’s such unfamiliar territory.”

“Remus-”

“Well? Al won’t be pleased if he finds us still standing here, so where are we going?”

“I… I don’t mind. Wherever you want to go.”

“Fine. I was planning to do a run to the suppliers anyway, so I suppose you can tag along if you’d like.”

“I’d love to,” Remus’ eyebrows raised in surprise at that, but his mouth was fixed in a firm line now, no hint of his earlier amusement, “if you’re sure it’s okay.”

“It’s fine, Sirius.” And another sigh followed, “Right, we’d better go then. We’re taking the bus.” And with that, Remus turned and was stepping out of the shop faster than Sirius could follow. He tripped over himself to keep up, chasing Remus out of the atelier and into the bustling sunny street outside. Sirius would never have thought of Remus as someone suited to the bustling noise of the city, not from the quiet softspoken Welshman he’d come to know, but he seemed to be in his element as he led them deftly through the streams of people.

“You never said what you were doing here?” Sirius asked, tentatively dipping into the still-frigid waters of Remus’ temperament as they walked. Remus gave a derisive snort in response but stayed silent. When they reached the bus stop, Remus bought them tickets, and then they waited in silence. Sirius fiddled restlessly with his sunglasses as the minutes passed.

“Alastor was my mentor.” Remus spoke suddenly, after several more minutes had passed. He faced forward as he spoke, still avoiding Sirius’ gaze. “Before I took over the shop, Da sent me here to learn. Way back when, some great-great-grandfather of mine came to Florence to learn the craft and Alastor’s great-something or other was his teacher. They worked together for a while and then, somewhere along the line, my family moved back to Wales and opened the atelier there. It’s become something of a tradition for my family to apprentice with Alastor’s, so that’s what I did. I come back every few years to do a bit of work for Alastor, meet with suppliers, and… well, whenever I need a break.”

“A break… from me?” Again, Remus snorted a short, irritated expulsion of breath.

“Funnily enough, Lord Black, not everything in my life revolves around you.” Remus all but snapped, but then his posture relaxed and he breathed an irritated sigh. It was only when he spoke again that Sirius realised Remus’ irritation wasn’t directed at him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Remus, you don’t-”

“I’m not angry with you Sirius, I’m… It just took me by surprise, seeing you here of all places.”

“I came with James – his uncle has a villa not far from the city and said we could use it for a few weeks,” Sirius explained, as he realised that Remus had been just as shocked as he was, “I… never expected to see you here either, but I am glad I ran into you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s our bus.” And Remus stood, pulling Sirius up with him, and despite himself, despite his promises and wariness against false hope, the contact jolted Sirius’ heart into a thundering riot in his chest.

~~~

Sirius was nothing short of impressed. If he thought Remus stitching together clothes was attractive, it was nothing compared to watching him manoeuvre completely at ease around a warehouse overflowing with all manner of silks, satins, wool and lace, speaking (as far as Sirius was aware) fluent Italian. Outside the small domain of his atelier, Remus had seemed more unsure. Even when they had been with his friends at the pub, he wasn’t as confident as Sirius had come to expect. But here, commanding the room with demands to see this material or sample that fabric, Remus was a man who knew what he wanted, and Sirius couldn’t help but watch on with molten desire pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Everything okay?” Sirius asked, pushing down any treacherous lust-tinged thoughts, as they left the supplier’s somehow empty-handed despite the stack of materials Remus had accumulated as he went. “Didn’t you find what you were looking for?”

“Hm?” Remus had been staring distractedly off into the middle distance, and a brief moment of confusion followed as he took in Sirius, who he had apparently forgotten was there. “Oh. Oh, no it was all fine. I’ve placed an order for Alastor, but there was quite a bit so I asked them to have it delivered. You don’t speak Italian?”

“Ma no!” Sirius replied with a small, teasing smile. “I never was good at languages. Most of my family speaks fluent French, but I can just about string together a few choice phrases.”

“Dirty ones, I hope.” Remus grinned back, and Sirius was relieved to see that mischievous glint finally returning to his eyes.

“Who do you take me for?”

“Certainly not a nice, proper Lord.”

“A Lord? Me? No, certainly not. That must be someone else you’re thinking of. Besides, we’re in Italy. English titles don’t mean anything here.”

“Don’t they?”

“Well, not much.” Sirius shrugged, though for some reason he felt his face burning as he caught Remus appraising him out the corner of his eye.

“So… I was thinking…” Remus started slowly, as if he were debating speaking at all, but he seemed to win over whatever battle was waging in his head and continued, “Since I managed to get that order sorted quickly and I’ve still got the rest of the afternoon to kill… Maybe, if you wanted, we could go somewhere nicer? See some actual sites?”

“I’d love to.”

“Well, where have you already been? I want to take you somewhere new.”

“I… haven’t really. I’m not much one for fancy buildings and musty old paintings.”

“Excuse me?” Remus demanded, sounding somehow personally offended at Sirius’ offhand remark, “Musty old paintings? I’ll have you know that some of the finest art in the world is in Florence.”

“I didn’t know you liked art so much,” though Sirius realised that perhaps it should have been obvious with the attention and detail Remus put into his suits.

“It was… I was going to study art at university. Well, history of art. I was convinced I was going to become some musty old professor pouring over Bocelli or Titian or something like that.”

“I bet you’d make a brilliant professor.” Sirius replied without hesitation. Remus gave him a curious look, but it broke into a shy smile, turning his head down to stare at his feet as they continued back to the bus stop. “In fact, I’m quite disappointed I won’t get to see Professor Lupin in action.” Sirius ventured with a devilish grin, hoping he was teetering on the right side of not quite flirting. Sirius was an incurable flirt at the best of times, and being around Remus he could hardly help himself. To his delight, Remus met his smile and smirked back.

“Well I would hate to disappoint.” His face split into a matching grin, as he pulled Sirius onto the bus by the hand, his touch only lingered briefly, releasing him the moment they were on board, “I know exactly where to take you.”

They rode the bus in a buzzing silence, all through the city centre, passing streets of tourists and magnificent facades of undoubtedly famous buildings, until Remus led them off at a stop south of the river away from the bustle of the city.

“I thought we were going sight-seeing?” Sirius asked, with the Duomo disappearing into the distance behind them, as they wound through increasingly narrow alleys, closed in on all sides by the tall sun-soaked buildings.

“We are.” Remus replied, a few paces ahead as he led Sirius, checking behind him every now and then to make sure Sirius was still following.

“But the sights are all that way.” Sirius jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the opposite direction, but Remus simply kept walking at a brisk pace that Sirius had to break his usual elegant gliding strides to keep up with.

With the sunburnt pavement hot underfoot and a thin breeze rippling through the heat of the clear sky, Sirius traipsed after Remus, dragged along by the promise of more time. Remus seemed to have entirely shrugged off his earlier disgruntlement at Sirius’ unexpected arrival, and now happily responded to Sirius’ questions, pointing out various little sights and fondly kept secrets along the way until they came to a small dead-end road in a quiet corner of town far from the piazzas and parks.

“Are we lost?” he asked, earning a blunt look from Remus, severely unimpressed at the suggestion.

“We are not lost.” Remus tutted scathingly, “We’re here.”

Sirius cast a perplexed look over the stylish, but nonetheless unimpressive, ochre walls on all sides. With a small smile and a teasing eyeroll, Remus steered Sirius by the arm through a small metal fence he hadn’t previously noticed at the end of the road. Turning the corner, they entered into a small, stone garden, closed in by the same dusky walls on three sides. The borders of the small courtyard were dotted with beds of pink, white, and red flowers and an arching willow spilled over from a wall on the other side, where it cast flickering shadows over a simple spouted fountain built into the wall beneath it. Beyond the courtyard stood a modest looking house, much like many of the orange and yellow houses they’d passed in streets before, and beneath a narrow, shaded cloister lining the far side of the courtyard, the back doors were swung open and inviting.

“Remus, where are we?”

“You’ll see,” he answered with a mischievous smirk and then he was moving again, leaving Sirius to trail behind as was becoming increasingly frequent where Remus was concerned.

They entered into the house, a cool shade washing over them as they left the sun behind in the garden. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Sirius found himself in a whitewashed room, the tiled floor completely bare save for a few platformed display cases housing some varieties of pottery. Sweeping around the room, row after row of ancient-looking paintings in tarnished ornate frames. If Sirius had only been paying attention to the room before him, he might have let out a groan, or begun fidgeting with the looming itch of boredom. Fortunately, his attention was instead focused on Remus who, upon entering, lit up. Sirius saw the split instant his eyes grew wide, his grin broadened to cover his face, and a slight movement caught hold of his limbs as he obviously restrained himself from rushing over to the first thing that took his interest. Instead, he glanced back at Sirius with what could only be described as a look of sheer pride, coloured by that slight hesitance as he waited for Sirius’ reaction. Sirius melted at the earnestness of his excitement and grinned back without knowing why.

“Come on,” Remus began tugging Sirius across the room. “It’s not musty and old. Well, it is quite old, but it’s not musty, I promise.”

He brought them to a painting sitting in a gilded frame on the leftmost wall and from that moment Remus was talking at a hundred miles a minute in buoyant enthusiasm about the rich colours, the immaculate detail of the forms, shapes and textures, the perfectionism of the particular chiaroscuro, and about a hundred other things that Sirius didn’t understand. He didn’t know what he was looking at, not unlike every other art gallery he’d ever been to, where endless lines of paint strokes all blurred into one another – this one a portrait of some woman or other, that one a pastoral landscape. The only difference was that this time, a little thing of beauty began to unravel onto the canvas before him as Remus painted it alive with his effusive descriptions.

“And look at the finesse in the strands of her hair.” Remus breathed in a hushed whisper of awe. “See the way it traces over the lines to create the effect of shadows over her face? That was a particular technique developed here, in Florence.”

“Okay, Professor Lupin, so what’s it about?” Sirius asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the thin lines of light brushed over the canvas into the deep blue of rippling cloth draped over a man milling around in the background of the scene. Sirius might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn there was a small glint of mischief in the man’s eyes as he watched the scene unfolding in the foreground from the back of the crowd.

“Nobody knows really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody even knows for sure who painted it, let alone what they were thinking at the time. But that’s part of the mystery, the intrigue. In a sense, because no one really knows for sure, the painting can be about whatever you want it to be. Some people say that art is more a reflection of the person looking at it than the art itself.”

“Okay…” Sirius replied slowly, taking in the new information, “so what do you think it’s about?”

“Now that would be telling,” Remus smirked, and left Sirius pouting after him, as he strode with ungainly enthusiasm to examine another painting.

Sirius had a distinct suspicion that Remus would ordinarily be eager to discuss his interpretations of various artwork at length and was being elusive solely because he knew it would infuriate Sirius. He fixated on the painting for a long moment, a weak attempt to decipher it for himself, but he had no idea who any of the figures were likely to be, let alone what the entangled scene in the centre was meant to portray. With a short huff, and another glance over his shoulder to glimpse Remus with his nose almost pressed against a glass case as he scrutinised the details of some orange and black pottery, Sirius drifted along the wall to another painting, then another, trying to see what Remus saw, trying to find the fleeting beauty he’d only started to grasp when Remus had been describing it to him.

Then one painting did catch his eye. It was a simple portrait: A young man, with dark hair tumbling down to his shoulders, painted against a stone-carved window looking out onto a backdrop of a pitch-black night. In the far distance of the painted window, a single glowing silver orb that must have been the moon lit the man from behind, casting shimmering light over shadowed features. Sirius didn’t understand this painting any more than the others, but something in the man’s expression felt familiar. A distinct wash of coldness ran over Sirius, despite the ebbing pulse of warmth that permeated even in the shaded room. He could almost hear the question forming on the painted man’s lips, with his brow lifted in expectation, his cold imperious expression and its accompanying blank stare, again that same demand: ‘What do you want?

“See something you like?” A voice appeared at Sirius’ shoulder. Startled, he whipped round, coming nose-to-nose with Remus. From this close Sirius could make out the sun-spilled colour in his cheeks and the small mass of freckles that Sirius was sure hadn’t been there before, dotted around Remus’ nose.

“Yeah…” Sirius exhaled, disturbing the fluffy curls of hair around Remus’ face that were now slightly more golden than brown.

“I see you’re enjoying my Dolci.” A singing voice echoed around the room, until it landed heavily between Sirius and Remus, disturbing the narrow silence that had settle in the inches between them. Sirius blinked and when he opened his eyes again, Remus was gone, moving with a broad grin over to greet the new arrival with an enveloping hug.

“It’s spectacular, Lils, I’ll bet it set you back some.”

“Well… it did a bit, but it’s worth it, don’t you think?” As Remus drew back from their embrace, Sirius caught a better view of the shy-smiling woman with vivid red hair and sparkling eyes. “All for sake the gallery, of course.”

“If you ever sold any tickets, I’m sure the sponsors would agree.”

“You, be quiet. I’ll not have such slander uttered in front of my paintings.” Her nose wrinkled as she stuck out her tongue in playful annoyance, then batted her friend’s arm with affection, “And what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until Saturday.”

“Moody gave me the afternoon off.”

“He did? What’s the occasion?” Sirius felt it prudent to interject with a light cough at this cue, seeing as how the two had apparently become too absorbed in their own happy reunion to remember Sirius standing there. Remus whipped around at the sound, and his face melted into a gentle smile as he took in Sirius again, beckoning with a tilt of his head for Sirius to come over.

“Sirius this is Lily, she’s the head curator here. Lily this-”

“Sirius Black. Well, this is a special occasion.” Lily narrowed her eyes playfully with a not unfamiliar teasing glint, exchanging a look with Remus as she did so, “And I suppose I should be honoured to have a lord descending into my humble gallery?”

“Oh those boring titles don’t mean anything here,” Sirius repeated that same maxim he’d said to Remus earlier, rising to Lily’s challenge with a goading grin, “But you’ve heard of me? All good things, I hope.”

“I’ve heard of you.” Lily agreed, without further comment, but the wry smile she cast in Remus' direction didn't escape Sirius' notice. He could feel Remus fiddling nervously with the fabric of his pocket in his periphery.

“You’ve told her about me?” Sirius’ grin grew broader, turning in time to see the rising blush in Remus’ face.

“Well, erm… Lily’s my... I… well I, um, sort of tell her everything,” He shrugged, a little sheepish, and at this admission the realisation sunk in, wiping the grin clean off of Sirius’ face.

“Everything?” He asked, turning back to Lily with a horrified seeping pool of dread. Lily’s smile, meanwhile, had only broadened into something far more sinister than Sirius would have expected for a woman whose face was so full of warmth.

“Oh yes. Everything.” She dragged out the syllables as though savouring the word, and at the very least savouring the renewed horror on Sirius’ face. Then she laughed – near-enough cackled – and the resounding bubble of torment bounced around the walls of the gallery in an unmalicious taunt. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

“C’mon Lily, play nice. Sirius is too easy a mark for you anyway.”

“Oi!”

“You’re probably right. Oh well, I’ll behave if he does.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Sirius asked with continued indignance, as the two seemed to talk between themselves as though Sirius wasn’t standing right there.

“Anyway,” Lily continued without any acknowledgement of Sirius, “I’ve got to sort out a shipping kerfuffle with a benefactor, so I’ll leave you to peruse. You’ll both come for dinner, won’t you? Marlene will be there.”

“Oh um, Lils, I’m not sure if Sirius-”

“I’d love to.” Sirius interrupted. “If I can bring my friend, of course. He’s probably wondering where I’ve got to.”

“Lovely, meet you in front of the shop at eight? Don’t be late.” Lily called behind her as she vanished out of the room and the slight patter of footsteps running up tiled stairs faded out into silence.

Remus shook his head with a soft chuckle as she left, and then turned back to Sirius’ questioning gaze. “Lily.”

“I see.”

“We were at university together, for the brief time I was there, and then it sort of… stuck.”

“She’s lovely.”

“She’s a menace.”

“She cares about you a lot.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Remus cast another smiling glance over his shoulder to the door through which Lily had vanished as quickly as she had appeared. “Oh, Sirius, c’mere. Let me show you the Etruscan fresco.”

~~~

It was a daring suit, even for Remus’ bold designs, made of sleek silver-blue linen, with a near see-through shirt that billowed over Sirius’ torso. The trousers that were full-length, but could nearly be described as shorts by the way they morphed mid-thigh into spangled gauzy material, falling like a pale shadow in sweeping waves, almost like the skirts of a dress as he moved. Sirius continued to admire the fluid shapes of his own figure, highlighted by the light, tumbling fabric, as he twirled in the mirror for the eleventh time that evening. He had returned to the villa in the glowing dim light of the late afternoon, once his patience had worn through the amusement of making Remus explain every painting to him in slow, laborious detail. Now, the purplish light of twilight was beginning to fall over the distant hills, and Sirius’ insides squirmed pleasantly at the thought of seeing Remus again so soon. He wanted to be perfect.

“Stunning, darling.” James’ popped his head into Sirius’ room with a wild grin as the clock's chime echoed through the villa, “Now come on, we’re going to be late. I thought you wanted to make a good impression on Remus’ friends.”

“I think it might be a bit too late for that,” Sirius groaned, remembering Lily’s wicked grin. He followed his friend out of the villa, nonetheless, ignoring the doubt that perhaps he should have worn something a bit less revealing lest Lily got the right idea about him. But again, he thought, it was already too late for that.

They rolled into the city on the back of Sirius’ bike, arriving on the street of Alastor’s atelier, to find Remus already leaning up outside, looking much unchanged from earlier, only with a thin mint-green jacket thrown over his shirt in place of the waistcoat. When he spotted them, Remus split into a smile and began to approach the spot where Sirius had parked his bike to let James clamber off first. Then Sirius dismounted, and Remus stopped, as his smile slid first into an expression of shock, and then into something lascivious and wanting, undisguised hunger spilling from his expression as he took in Sirius, despite having seen him wearing this same suit only a month ago when Sirius had it fitted.

“That um… you look good.”

“Not so bad yourself, Lupin.” They lingered there for a moment, and then Lily came barrelling up behind them.

“Looking good, Sirius.” She nodded, already smiling with laughter at Remus’ slack-jawed expression, then turning with interest to James, “And who do we have here?”

“Uh.. Um, I’m…” James garbled, apparently struggling to string together his words at the sight of Lily in her velvet green dress, all looping black lace and silvery pearls, as she turned her unimpressed eyebrows back to Sirius.

“James.” Sirius supplied helpfully, “This is my friend, James Potter.”

“Lord James Potter, miss. Pleasure to meet you.” James managed to tumble out in a mixture of stumbled slurs.

“Shame really, something about posh blokes just doesn’t do it for me.” Lily shrugged, as if genuinely disappointed, and started off back the way she’d arrived, leaving James gaping after her, only beginning to protest that he actually wasn’t that much of a lord of anything when she was already several feet ahead.

“Good to know.” Sirius laughed, exchanging a look with Remus, who seemed to share his amusement. “Come on then, I’m famished. For some reason I’ve been being dragged around Florence all day without a bite to eat.”

“That’s criminal.” Remus replied, all solemnity, “who would do such a thing?” and then he span on his heel with one last teasing grin, and darted ahead after Lily, leaving Sirius and James still staring after them.

“Did you see her?” James asked dreamily, “She’s…”

“Yeah…” Sirius sighed, watching a different, yet equally stunning, figure receding further and further out of reach, “I know.”

~~~

They met Marlene waiting for them in a piazza a little further along, and both Sirius and James took an instant liking to her bold optimism and clumsy humour. Once James discovered she was a professional athlete, there was no separating them. Under the glowing streetlamps in the warm spring air, the five of them strolled in an amiable group as if they had been doing it their whole lives. James regaled Marlene with exciting tales of his rugby days, while Marlene joked about her own sporting achievements as if they were paltry accomplishments rather than international leagues. Remus and Lily nattered away like the old friends they were, and Sirius was for once content to not be the focus, happy to listen to the spirited conversation rattling around him. They reached the restaurant that Lily had picked out, tucked away between a few narrow streets under a canopy of budding vines. Remus hung back a little allowing the others to enter first. Almost unconsciously, Sirius lingered as well, not realising he’d been following Remus’ lead this whole time and was now halted by Remus’ inaction.

“Everything okay, Sirius?”

“Oh yes, fine.” He smiled softly and Remus returned a full-faced beam. Sirius bathed in its glow for a while. He had never seen Remus this carefree and light in Wales. Of course, he seemed happy there, but here Remus seemed at ease, seemed completely free of the worries that shadowed him in the cosy atelier that Sirius had grown so fond of. He liked Remus in his shop, liked his habits and clockwork movements, but he adored Remus here, lightly browned by the sun, and seeming half a decade younger with no cares in the world to disturb him.

“You seem a little quiet.” Remus prompted, after uncountable moments had passed between them.

“Just enjoying listening for a change.” Remus cocked his head a little at that, his brows momentarily furrowed in a trace of concern, but seemed satisfied with what he found as he examined Sirius’ eyes with that intense gaze that captivated Sirius. With a funny quirk of his smile, he pressed his hand against Sirius’ back and that glorious hint of mischief floated into his eyes.

“After you, Lord Black.” He grinned.

“I’m just Sirius here. Nobody important, remember?” But he allowed himself to be guided forwards by Remus’ gentle touch.

“I think you’re very important.” Remus said in a near-whisper as Sirius brushed past him to join their friends, and Sirius nearly didn’t make it to the table, but when he did his face was deep crimson under the candle-glow. James, spotting his expression, shot him a wink and a knowing grin. Sirius blushed deeper.

By half-way through the starters, Sirius had found his boisterous spirit, and was laughing heartily at Marlene’s crude impression of one of her media critics who had taken it upon themselves to remind her that she was, in fact, a woman. It was only as he recovered from the side-splitting guffaws, and James took over sharing a sweet story about a friend who had been so intimidated by the girls at their sister school, he’d begged Sirius to be his date, which Sirius, of course, had seen as an opportunity not to be missed. Sirius, having heard James’ rendition of this story a hundred times before, allowed his gaze to drift to the silent presence on his right, only to find Remus was already watching him with a curious smile on his face.

“What?” Sirius mouthed through a blooming smile, not wanting to draw the attention of the others away from James’ now-wild gesticulating. Remus’ smile grew too, as his teeth peeked out of the corner of his smile into his bottom lip, and he gave the slightest shake of his head. It’s nothing, his discrete gesture said, but his eyes were swimming with something beautiful that held Sirius entranced, and in an instant, he was wearing a matching smile without knowing the reason why. He didn’t know how much time passed staring into Remus’ eyes, but James’ story had long-since ended when their gaze was broken by a loud cough.

Sirius turned to see three laughing faces watching him and Remus, who was now pointedly looking off into the distance with a light crinkle in his brow and a dusted pink blush barely visible on his cheeks. Sirius, ignoring the others, grinned to himself, as Lily launched into a thrilling rant about a recent debacle at her gallery, where a Titian had been mixed up with a Caravaggio, causing a frantic scramble ahead of the recent exhibition. Marlene and Sirius’ loud laughs mingled into the night air, Remus snorted, and James even remembered to chuckle as he watched Lily with adoring eyes.

“Well we opened up the Bacchus, but would you believe it – not a hint of blue!” Remus, Marlene and Lily burst out laughing. James laughed too; Sirius suspected because Lily was laughing. Sirius didn’t get the joke, but was already in high spirits, so he laughed as well. Remus quirked an eyebrow at that, seeing right through him.

“I’ll tell you later,” he leaned over and muttered into Sirius’ ear. There was nothing untoward about the comment, but Sirius couldn’t help but blush all over again at the hushed whisper, as if they were sharing a secret just between them.

“So Lily,” James started, having fully recaptured his ability to speak in Lily’s presence. Sirius rolled his eyes, recognising from the bold tone and the slight lean of James’ body, that an attempt was about to be made. “What brings a lovely, intelligent woman like you to this beautiful city? I could have sworn that’s a Devonshire accent I’m hearing.”

“Are you saying I don’t belong here?”

“No I-”

“I’ll have you know Dartmouth is every bit as lovely as Florence, and besides which, I’ve lived here for nearly a decade now.”

“I never-”

“It’s alright, James,” Remus cut in, putting the poor man out his misery, “She’s teasing. Lily, I thought I said to play nice.”

“I can’t help it, Remus. These posh boys are always such fun to toy with. Reminds me of being back at Oxford with those stuck-up tophs on our course.” She snickered at the thought and turned back to James with the far kinder smile that Sirius had seen when she’d greeted Remus earlier in the day, “It was Remus’ idea actually. I was looking for somewhere to go for my year abroad. I knew I wanted to come somewhere in Italy, and when I asked Remus, he insisted I had to come here. Said I’d never be sorry, and I’d never want to leave. Turns out he was right. I got an internship for after I graduated at the national museum, and before you know it I’m heading up my own modest gallery. It’s a dream, honestly.”

“Sounds wonderful…” James trailed off, having abandoned his attempted bravado, to lean his head against his hand and stare into Lily’s eyes. Sirius couldn’t even be sure he’d taken in anything Lily had said, but she seemed to take it on the chin, with a light laugh and an amused roll of her eyes.

“It must have been a bit daunting, coming out here by yourself?” Sirius prompted, when James showed no signs of reanimating.

“Oh, it was. But I wasn’t completely by myself. I met Marlene while I was here on my year abroad, and Remus always calls even if he only visits once in a blue moon.”

“It’s the shop…”

“I know, I know, it’s the shop, and your busy, busy life.” Lily chuckled with another eyeroll.

“Would you move here?” Sirius asked Remus, suddenly, though he thought he knew the answer already.

“Maybe one day… Once Da- Maybe one day…” He said again, shifting awkwardly in his chair. Marlene, fortunately moved the conversation swiftly on, remembering an anecdote from when she’d first met Lily as a doe-eyed undergrad, attempting to order milk in a café and repeatedly being served various types of coffee as the baffled staff tried to work out what was wrong. As Marlene chatted away, Sirius extended a subtle arm under the table and found Remus’ knee, giving it a light squeeze, all the while laughing happily at Marlene’s comical expressions. Remus looked up at the small gesture and Sirius caught the soft smile from the corner of his eye, as Remus’ hand covered his own.

The night wound on, at times the five of them exchanging animated conversation, other times falling into smaller murmuring conversations, steadily abandoning the semblance of acquaintances for those of new friends. The dusky night found James and Lily in one such secluded discussion, while Marlene and Sirius challenged each other to a thumb war, Remus watching on fondly despite his eyerolls at their apparently ‘childish’ behaviour.

“Oh shit!” Marlene exclaimed, as she trapped Sirius’ thumb for the third time in a row. Sirius jumped, startled from his heavy concentration in his failed attempt to out-manoeuvre Marlene’s inhumanely limber thumb, and he nearly slammed their joined fists into the table in surprise. Marlene unlocked their hands, springing to her feet and gathering her bag and silk satin shawl as she did so. “I’m sorry loves, I have to go.”

Lily raised a confused eyebrow, and with the most sheepish of winces, Marlene paused to explain. “I said I’d have drinks with this woman I met at a dance class the other day. Completely slipped my mind!” Another grimace, and she was gone. After the startling interruption, Lily and James returned to their deep conversation, seemingly unperturbed. Sirius turned to Remus with a questioning look only to find, once again, that Remus was already watching him. He didn’t attempt to disguise the fact that he’d been staring, a confident expression on his face as he spoke.

“I think those two might be here for a while,” He muttered, with a small jerk of his thumb in the direction of James and Lily. And then tilted his head in question, “Best leave them to it, I reckon. Want to get out of here?”

Sirius nodded, mute with anticipation. Standing, Remus held his palm face up to Sirius, and Sirius took it as he clambered to his feet, his eyes fixed on Remus, who seemed to exchange a silent look with Lily, before they turned and left.

“Where are we going?” Sirius asked, several streets later, once he’d finally been able to calm the pounding pulse in his ears that was his heart beating wildly at the searing contact of Remus’ hand in his. Not that he really cared. Sirius was ready to accept that he’d let Remus drag him just about anywhere without question.

Remus, always half a step ahead as he pulled Sirius along, looked back at him with a wolfish grin. “You’ll see.”

Remus led them further out of the city towards a near-deserted park, save for a few couples out on a late romantic stroll and one particularly vocal busker who was swearing loudly at the few passersby in words that Sirius couldn’t understand. At the centre of the park was a hill, rising away from the river, and after what felt like an endless climb, they reached the top.

“Turn around.” Remus said softly, mischief-sparkling eyes staring into Sirius’ with a barely contained grin and a gentle brush of his thumb over the back of his palm in encouragement. Sirius turned back to face the way they had come and his breath caught in a sharp inhale at the sight the tall domed spire of the cathedral rising up, surrounded by a blanket of terracotta rooves lit from below. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Sirius had no breath left to reply, only continued drinking in the sight before him, awestruck. He had been to Florence a number of times, but he had never seen it like this. He felt a gentle squeeze around his hand, beckoning his gaze back to Remus, who seemed not to have noticed, still looking out to the city below.

“Gorgeous,” Sirius whispered, but the only city lights he could now see were reflected back at him in a faint glow against Remus’ cheek. The world fell quiet around them for a moment, no movement save the warm breeze and the twinkling city lights below. Remus continued to stare out at the streets beneath them, and an almost wistful look passed over his expression.

“Have you ever had a moment... something completely unexpected, that comes up out of nowhere and suddenly it’s… everything.” A small gust rustled waves through Remus’ hair, and Sirius thought he knew exactly what he meant.

“I think so…” Sirius replied, hushed, not sure if Remus even heard him.

“I… I used to be really self-conscious back then of the- of my-,” Remus reached a hand up, pressing his fingertips to the large scar that ran across his face, “I was angry for a while, really angry, and it only got worse when Da sent me here. I had absolutely no intention of learning anything, but Al taught me anyway. He put up with my moods, shouted at me often enough, mind you, but he was more patient with me than I deserved. He found out that I… that I’d been interested in art, even though I refused to talk about it. It was still too painful for me then, so the first time he took me to a gallery he didn’t tell me where we were going. We walked into this little church in the middle of nowhere, and there was a painting… not one of the famous ones, no one I’d ever heard of anyway, but it was so… it was everything.

“After that, being here got easier. I remembered why I’d loved art in the first place, the colours, the textures, the shapes, all of it working together to become something seamless and captivating… something meaningful. Once Al worked it out, he started encouraging me to use that, to take what I knew about art and put it into my work. Eventually making suits became everything. Being here reminds me of that.”

“Remus…”

“Ah, sorry, I’m talking nonsense again.” And Remus backed away, turning to Sirius with a shyness on his face, an uncertainty that Sirius remembered from that night outside his atelier, a bashful chuckle and the awkward way he swept the hair off his face for something to do with his empty hand. Remus’ hold loosened, as doubt drifted into his expression, but Sirius caught his fingers, refusing to let him slip away this time.

“It’s not nonsense. Maybe I don’t understand it, but it means something to you.” Remus swallowed and gave a nervous nod, his eyes cast down at their joined hands. Unspoken moments passed in silence, but Sirius held fast to the rough palm in his own, refusing to let go while he found the courage to speak. “I’m sorry.”

Remus watched with cautious eyes, that furrow of confusion back at his brow, and the flinching tilt of concern, but he didn’t speak, only waited patiently.

“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you on your birthday. I should have. Fuck knows I wanted to Remus, but I was scared. I’ve been scared, Remus, every time I get too close to you, because it’s so…”

“Sirius…”

“It’s true though. Every day since then I’ve been kicking myself for not staying with you that night.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said,” He stepped closer to Remus, reducing the distance between them, “And there’s still the possibility that this ends badly, Remus. I know it may be selfish, but I can’t… I have to… I have to try to pursue what I want, don’t I?”

Remus seemed to consider for a moment, letting Sirius’ words dangle between them, as he frowned at where their hands met, turning Sirius’ fingers over with his own, staring with an intensity as if the answer was written there, in the lines of his palm. Sirius waited, would wait until there was no hope, and then probably wait some more, because he had finally realised that – even without hope – Remus was worth waiting for.

“Did you mean it?” Remus finally broke the silence, his hands pausing in their movements, though he still watched them carefully, as if it were Sirius’ hands he was addressing.

“Mean what?”

“The next morning I thought maybe you were just too drunk and upset and looking for comfort. I thought you might have regretted what you said, that you might just have been flirting for the fun of it, or maybe that it was so insignificant to you that you just… forgot. But that night, when you came to me at new year’s, you told me… Did you mean it?” Remus stopped, but Sirius waited for him to finish, and finally, in a quiet voice, raising his eyes to meet Sirius’, he spoke. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted me?”

Locked in the heavy gaze, the rest of his voice raised a riot in his head, cursing himself for drinking so much that he would say something so important, to someone so important, and then forget all about it the next day… wave it off like some meaningless mistake. So when he spoke, Sirius’ answer came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes.” He answered, and Remus’ breathing hitched in hope.

“And how about now? What do you want now?” Remus leaned in a little closer, the rough edge of longing in his voice, as warm breath tickled Sirius’ lips.

“I want you, Remus.”

“All you have to do is ask.” And this time Sirius heard it for the plea it was. The question on Remus’ lips, asking, are you sure you want me?

“Would you kiss me, Remus? Please.” And Remus tilted forward enough to close the gap, enough to press a soft, whisper of a kiss on Sirius’ lips. He pulled back a fraction and Sirius caught a glimpse of the apprehension swimming in pools of molten brown, so Sirius pressed forwards again, pushing their lips together, holding their bodies close until Remus was all he could hear and taste and smell. They tangled together as Sirius let go of Remus’ hands, winding up to his chest to tug at the front of his shirt, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Remus responded readily to the touch, his arms wrapping almost instinctively around Sirius’ waist. It was nothing like the hurried, frantic kisses they had shared before. That desperate need was still throbbing beneath Sirius’ suit, but for once in his life, he wanted to move carefully. He wanted to be slow and deliberate, to keep hold of this precious, delicate thing between them, and grip just tight enough to keep it from breaking.

Then they were pulling apart again, but there was no panic, no fear rising up in to claw at Sirius’ throat. No reminders, no distant tugging in the back of his mind, only the thought that what he wanted was right there. He released his grip on Remus’ shirt, moving his hands over his chest and shoulders, and trailed his fingers down the length of Remus’ arms, until their hands connected again, then he leaned in for another brief kiss.

“I want you.” He repeated, and at this, something in Remus’ clouded eyes grew dark and ravenous. “I always want you, Remus.”

~~~

Sirius didn’t know how they ended up back in front of his parked motorbike, only that it had taken much longer than it should have, tumbling through empty streets in a tangle of touches and kisses, refusing to let their fingers separate, as they stopped here and there, for Sirius to press his palm against Remus’ cheek, for Remus to tug him in by the waist and press him into a corner to trade deep, drawn-out kisses. Yet somehow, despite their dreamlike daze, they made it back to the bike.

“What about James?” Remus asked between breathless kisses. “They’re probably still at the restaurant.”

“James is a big boy. Knows how to pay for a taxi and everything.” Sirius smirked, and Remus rolled his eyes, but took the opportunity to press his nose into Sirius’, pressing his body in at the same time and keeping him backed up against the side of his bike.

“I’ve got an early-morning delivery, remember?” He muttered onto Sirius’ lips.

“Won’t Alastor be in to receive it?”

“He will, but-”

“I want you, Remus.” Sirius whispered the magic words, savouring the way Remus’ expression curled into lust each time he said it. “Please.”

That was all it took for Sirius to coax Remus onto the bike behind him, firm thighs swung either side of him, digging into Sirius’ hips as he drove. Despite Remus’ best efforts to negotiate himself into a comfortable, uncompromising position, there was no hiding the hard line of want pressed against Sirius’ back as he drove them up the winding streets out into the open country. The whip of air rushing past as they flew through the night went some way to cool the torrid heat pulsing between their bodies, but once they reached the villa, their touches became more desperate than before as the imminence of their situation pressed weight into the heavy desire sparking between them. With Remus pulling his body close, lapping softsweet kisses down the column of his throat, Sirius fumbled his way through the door of the villa, dragging Remus inside with him.

Then they were moving, in slow, careful steps, their lips hardly separating as Sirius pulled Remus back through tiled halls, back into his room, back further until he felt the soft push of the mattress and pooling swathes of silk sheets against his legs. Sirius hadn’t stopped to turn on any lights, the need to be all over Remus and have Remus all over him too urgent, so they stood pressed together in a cool dark room, only a thin sliver of moonlight falling over them through a gap in the curtains.

“Sirius. This… are you sure?” Remus mumbled soft against his lips.

“Yes, I want you. I want this.”

“Say it again.”

“I want you.” Sirius would say it as many times as Remus wanted to hear it, and more besides.

“Say my name.”

“I want you, Remus.”

Remus’ lips were on his again in an instant. Sirius was engulfed in the kiss, everything else vanished from his mind, and all he knew was Remus’ mouth. The firm pressure gave way to something softer as his lips parted and a tongue teased Sirius’ mouth open to deepen the kiss. The sweet scent filled his nostrils until all he could taste was Remus, all he could feel was Remus’ fingers clutching his waist, tight enough to bruise, and at the thought Sirius arched his hip towards Remus’, nudging at the hardness beneath layers of finely stitched cloth.

Swiping a tongue over Remus’ bottom lip, and leaving a light nip in its wake, Sirius pulled away with great reluctance, trailing fingers still intertwined with Remus’ own, as he sank down on the edge of the bed. He stared up through the dark into Remus’ eclipsed gaze. In the faint moonlight, Remus’ eyes seemed to sharpen into something almost feral, and his tongue flickered out, followed by a soft graze of teeth against his bottom lip where Sirius’ had been seconds before.

In slow, incremental movements, Remus craned over him, stopping to brush Sirius’ hair back against his scalp with one hand, while the other tangled their fingers together. He bent from stooping, drifting lower and lower, to place soft kisses on Sirius’ brow, on his nose, his lips, his neck, the dip of his collarbone where it disappeared beneath the sheer fabric of his shirt, until he had lowered himself to his knees in front of Sirius. His hands came to rest on Sirius’ hips, and then a wicked glint flashed in his eyes, followed by the flicker of a smirk. Then those long nimble fingers were at Sirius’ belt, pulling his trousers loose, dragging them down over his hips, his thighs, as much as possible where Sirius was perched on the side of the bed. Sirius watched enraptured, his lips parted just enough to feel the cold hit his teeth at the sharp intake of breath as Remus’ fingers brushed over the curve of his shaft beneath his boxers. Remus looked deep and searching into Sirius’ eyes as he carefully, deliberately freed him from the last barrier of cloth, and ran a tantalising finger over the already stiff cock in his hand, smirking when Sirius’ breath stuttered at the stimulation.

“Remus, please.” Sirius spoke in a hoarse whisper, and Remus’ flickering smirk deepened, then in a single movement he took the head into his mouth, lapping lightly at the drops of precome already leaking from the slit. Sirius moaned, a needy, reverberating moan that unravelled with him from head to curling toes as Remus sunk lower and lower over his cock, taking him in whole, only to draw back again and tease him with barely there, distracted touches. Sirius was on edge, he was desperate and frustrated by months of denial, it wouldn’t take much, he knew. But Remus seemed to know exactly where the line was, and as Sirius felt himself tipping closer with each drawn out caress, Remus drew back completely, leaving Sirius’ cock to twitch helplessly in the absence where Remus’ mouth had been.

“Not yet, love. Don’t you want me?” But there was none of his earlier insecurity. Instead, Remus’ voice was low and lust-filled, taunting as much as dripping with echoes of his own urgent desire.

“Yes. Yes, please, Remus. I want you.” Remus’ lips curled into a satisfied smile at the soft, breathy plea, and rose back to his feet, pulling Sirius with him. Remus stroked a few fingers through his hair again as he did so, his palm coming to rest against Sirius’ cheek as he pressed another long, open-mouthed kiss, searing himself onto Sirius, a brand against his lips. Then in familiar, well-practiced movements, skilful fingers worked at unfastening the buttons of his shirt, just as slow and torturous as each time he had fastened all those buttons behind panelled mirrors, taking his time to torture Sirius with what he couldn’t have. Except now he could, Sirius was reminded, as Remus stroked his knuckle intentionally against the sensitive flesh above Sirius’ exposed waistline. Sirius let the shirt tumbled onto the floor by the bed, and his trousers followed not long after. He had just enough presence of mind to pray that Remus’ work hadn’t been ruined in the course of the night. Then all thoughts vanished, as Remus pressed him back onto the bed, steering him, until he was lying flat on his back, completely helpless to do anything but watch as Remus shucked off his own clothes with such little grace that Sirius couldn’t help feeling entirely seduced by the careless motions.

The instant he was free of his clothes, Remus was on the bed, leaning over Sirius, holding himself up with his arms, hovering inches from Sirius, so close to touching. He swiped a covetous gaze down the shadowed lines of Sirius’ body, and Sirius drank in the light-fuzzed edges of Remus’ figure above him. Reaching his fingers up to Remus’ face, cautious and gentle, he touched the thick line of the scar where it knotted over Remus’ cheek, watching Remus carefully as he did so. Remus didn’t flinch, only stayed hovering over Sirius, so he began to trace a soft finger over the line and Remus closed his eyes, leaning towards the touch.

“I want you,” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ eyes fluttered open at the barely-there sound of Sirius’ request.

“I want you, too.” And Remus lowered himself against Sirius, knotting their legs together, with another deep all-consuming kiss. As their tongues rolled together, Sirius tasted himself on Remus’ tongue and keened at the thought, pressing up against Remus’ leg between his thighs. He moaned at the contact, and Remus pressed his leg deeper, further stimulating Sirius where he was already on the edge of spilling over. Remus retracted his tongue a little, giving them both a chance to breathe, as he continued to peck a few soft kisses to Sirius’ lips, before once again plunging them into another breathless kiss.

Instead of drawing back at the slight reprieve, Sirius lifted his hips again into Remus’ thigh, nudging himself into heady arousal. He felt a soft growl rise from Remus’ throat into their kiss at his movement, as the other man leaned further into him, until their bodies were touching everywhere. Sirius, in a moment of prideful retaliation that sought out a challenge even in the throes of such intimacy, striped his hands over Remus’ back, around his waist, to the dip between his hips, and took Remus between his hands with a firm grip.

“Sirius,” Remus moaned between a withdrawn kiss, and Sirius whined in reply, his hips bucking again at the desperate way Remus spoke his name, like a plea falling from a sinner’s lips. Then those lips were everywhere, tracing hot, wet kisses along his jaw, nibbling his earlobes, closing over his throat to suck greedily at the soft stubble-covered skin. “Ask me. Tell me what you want.”

“Please, Remus.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” And Remus groaned with unbridled desire.

“Lubricant?”

“Top drawer. Condoms too.” Remus stretched over, never moving his body off of Sirius, who continued to run his hands over Remus’ arms, shoulders and back while Remus fumbled with the drawer. Then he came back to leaning over Sirius, propping himself on his elbows either side of Sirius’ head to drip the liquid over his fingers. Reaching down between them, he spread the cool gel over Sirius and then sat back on his legs, first teasing a condom over his cock, before spreading lubricant in a salacious display that caught the breath in Sirius’ throat. Then, with a wicked grin and a teasing flick of his tongue against his slightly parted lips, without breaking eye contact, Remus dribbled another stream over his fingers, and lowered his hand between Sirius’ legs, lifting Sirius’ thigh with his free hand, to trail a lubricated finger slowly up against the sensitive skin towards Sirius’ hole. He circled his finger there for a moment, before gently easing in just past the tight ring. Sirius lifted his hips into the burn, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on the sensation of Remus being inside him.

“This okay?”

“Mmm,” Sirius gave a broken moan, “want more. Please Remus.”

“Be patient, Lord Black.” Sirius bucked inadvertently at the formal address, opening his eyes at the shock of his own reaction to see Remus grinning widely, a dangerous flash lit his eyes. “Oh, is that how it is? I suppose being so powerful, you spend all your time telling people what to do, don’t you Lord Black?”

Sirius moaned a reply. Remus continued to talk in low, teasing tones, all the while easing his finger deep, receding a little to the rim, only to push back in deeper.

“I bet, you’re tired of it, aren’t you. Want someone to tell you what to do for a change. Want to be able to let go and let me take care of you. Isn’t that right?”

“Please, yes. Remus...”

“Will you be good for me, then?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good. So good, please.”

“Okay, Sirius, I’m going to add another finger now.” A gentleness curved around the rough edges of Remus’ voice, as he pushed another finger in, easing Sirius open more and more. The pain was unnoticeable by the time Remus inserted a third, and Sirius squirmed, rocking himself against Remus’ fingers to deepen the sensation, to chase after more.

“I thought you were going to be good.” He paused his movements, withdrawing his fingers so that the lack of stimulation was unbearable. “Stay still, Lord Black, and let me make you feel good.”

Sirius found himself obeying, even as his body fought to chase the absent sensation. Remus took his time, retrieving the lubricant from where he had tossed it on the bed next to them, and lathering another coat over his own cock, drinking in the sight of Sirius as he did so. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Sirius.” He said as he moved his hands in long, slow strokes over himself, biting his lip as he groaned slightly at the sensation. Then he released himself with a deep growl that washed over Sirius, his abdomen fluttering in anticipation. “So perfect all ready for me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Remus, please.”

“to do what?”

“Please, Remus…” Sirius begged, needy and desperate for Remus to be inside him again.

“Say it, sweetheart,” and Sirius’ already drumming heartbeat quickened at the careless endearment, as pooling heat spread through his chest and lungs watching Remus lean forward again to position himself over Sirius, leaning closer. He lowered his voice to a whisper with his lips tickling the shell of Sirius’ ear, “tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you, Remus, I want you inside me.” Sirius answered in an urgent plea. And with a deep, wanton groan, Remus eased his cock into Sirius’ hole, nudging the head of his cock against the rim until Sirius felt it slip inside. Remus pulled out a little before pushing back in, slowly at first, and then pushed in deeper to the sound of Sirius’ ecstatic moans, until Sirius was full of him. Remus was flush against the back of Sirius’ thighs, while Sirius wrapped his calves tightly around Remus, pulling him deeper still.

“Fuck you feel so good, Sirius.” Sirius could only reply in writhing moans, as Remus held there for a tantalising moment, still fully seated. Then Remus began thrusting lightly until his rocking hips found their rhythm and Sirius couldn’t stop himself from pushing back to meet Remus’ movements. Remus didn’t stop him though, leaning down to tangle their tongues together between clashing teeth in the clumsy kisses sought out in between.

Remus’ moans soon melted together with Sirius’ as his movements sped up, steadying himself on the mattress either side of Sirius’ head, chasing the sensation of Sirius tightly wrapped around him. Then Remus angled his cock inside Sirius, hitting that perfect spot and making him cry out in bliss. Sirius’ hands roamed over Remus’ shoulders, sliding up his neck, and found purchase in Remus’ hair, pulling him closer still as he sped up, so that their sweat-slick bodies were sliding against each other, with Sirius’ cock caught against the tantalising friction of Remus’ navel, and he peppered greedy kisses over Remus’ neck and torso between ardent moans.

“Sirius…” Remus rasped in a husky, broken voice as he buried himself again and again inside Sirius, “tell me.”

“Remus,” Sirius answered in a breathless reply, unable to control the sounds he was making, “I want you, Remus.”

“Oh fuck, Sirius.” And Remus thrust even more firmly towards Sirius’ still-rocking hips, arching up to chase the friction against his own cock.

“I want you.” He moaned again, until it became a cry of unbounded need, so close before, now bursting with Remus inside him, all around him, rubbing against his insides and teasing Sirius’ aching erection with inconsistent touches. Leaning his weight onto one elbow, Remus wrapped his other hand around Sirius’ neglected cock, earning more cries of 'I want you, I want you, I want you'.

“Fuck, yes. Want you too, Sirius,” was Remus growled answer, matching his thrusts to the long, firm strokes he made with his hand.

“Fuck I’m close, Remus,” Sirius whined at the overwhelming sensations.

“Me too, hold on for me darling.”

“I can’t Remus, I want… I want… I want-”

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Come for me, Sirius” Remus’ rhythm faltered, and shouting Sirius’ name to the harmony of Sirius’ ‘I want you’s, he buried himself to the hilt with one final thrust and came as Sirius’ own cock burst white streams of come between their bodies.

“Fuck.” Sirius gasped, catching his breath as Remus slipped out, rolling to his side, and grinned.

“Enjoyed that, did you Lord Black?” He teased, still breathless, running a hand through the sweat-dripped locks of hair that had plastered to his skin.

“Fuck off.” Sirius groaned, a new blush of heat overtaking his body at the reminder of how he’d reacted to the formal address. He’d always thought he hated the name, always associated it too much with everything he loathed about his family, but perhaps he didn’t mind it so much when it was Remus whispering his name in illicit promises and lust-bidden praise. Perhaps he rather relished the idea of sullying the noble name when he was getting off with a cock buried deep inside him.

“No thanks, I’m good here.”

“To answer your question, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed that. I would very much like to do it again.”

“Good. Me too.” Remus’ voice was all warmth and smiles as he pulled Sirius against him, stroking gentle lines through his scalp. “We should… clean up.”

“’n th’mrning.” Sirius mumbled sleepily into Remus chest, following his words with a lazy kiss.

“It’s going to suck in the morning.”

“You’re going to suck in the morning.”

“Wow. I’ve never seen sulky sleep-deprived Sirius before. This is new.”

“Ssh, sleep now.” Sirius murmured. “Fuck again later.”

“Okay,” Remus chuckled softly, and Sirius drifted off to fingers running through his hair, tucked into Remus’ naked embrace.

Chapter Text

With slow blinking eyes, Sirius woke up before the thin light of dawn had even begun to creep in through the airy gauze curtains of his suite. He nuzzled against something soft and warm, and it shook with a light chuckle falling on his ears. It was at that point that Sirius remembered the naked man in his bed, more specifically, Remus.

“Morning,” came the voice above him, a subdued hush broken only by the light crackling huskiness of his sleep-muted voice. Sirius turned his smile upwards, still bleary-eyed and only vaguely able to make out the face smiling back at him in the dim light. With his arm still wrapped around Sirius, Remus’ hand began to stroke soft touches up and down Sirius’ arm.

“Last night…” Sirius yawned, nuzzling further into Remus as he did so, who seemed more than happy to continue serving as Sirius’ pillow, pulling him in tighter.

“Yes?”

“Was incredible.”

“I thought so too.” Even as he spoke in hushed tones, careful not to shatter the morning stillness, Sirius noticed Remus’ Welsh lilt come out stronger than usual, more relaxed than the studied politeness he saved for his shop. Sirius curled into Remus, letting the low rumbling of his voice wash over him as it rolled up from Remus’ lungs to his throat, like a motor purring to life under Sirius’ cheek.

“I think we should do it again.” Sirius murmured into the soft curls on Remus’ chest, tracing lazy lines over his stomach with his fingers.

“I would love to, Sirius, but I have to go into work. Not all of us can take three weeks off to laze around in the sun all day.”

“Pity.”

“Isn’t it.”

“Take the day off.”

“I already did that.”

“So do it again,” Sirius implored, rolling onto his front to address the situation properly, propping his head up on his arms and staring into dusky brown eyes, still obscured by the dim light of not-quite-morning. Then he shuffled up the bed to match Remus’ height and sunk a slow, purposeful kiss onto Remus’ lips, which parted ready to indulge whatever lazy, drawn-out caresses Sirius would offer. “I’m sure Moody won’t mind. And I can think of so many better things you could be doing today…”

“Like?”

“Me.” Sirius grinned. Remus snorted softly, but he made no movement to get out of bed, instead carding his fingers through Sirius’ hair where it hung over them in curtains, shielding them from anything beyond their four-foot world of silk and sleepy whispers.

“Sorry, love,” Sirius’ stomach squirmed at the affection in Remus’ voice, “I’d better get ready. It’s going to take me a little while to get to town, and I’ve got to be in by seven for the delivery.”

“I thought you were going to leave the delivery to Moody?”

“Yes, I do remember you saying something like that. Funnily enough, I don’t remember agreeing.”

“At least let me hop in the shower with you.” Sirius pleaded, as Remus started shifting his arm away from where it was wrapped under Sirius’ perfectly comfortable body.

“Not a chance, love, you’re far too tempting. I’d get all distracted and end up being late.”

“Sounds good to me.” Remus snorted again, and Sirius wanted to bottle the little expulsion of breath. Then Remus pulled his hand free of Sirius’ tangled tresses and dropped a peck on the end of his nose. “Can I see you tonight?”

“I’d like that.” Remus finally freed himself and Sirius flipped back over onto his back, folding his arms up behind his head to watch the limber body swaying around the room. He was able to make out just enough of Remus’ bare figure to pocket away in his memory for later.

“Can’t promise I won’t have fun without you though.” Sirius teased looking up from beneath hooded eyes, as he stirred beneath the covers, which were doing a poor enough job of preserving his own modesty that Remus paused for a longer glance, drinking him in, with an exasperated groan.

“How come you’re so fucking gorgeous?” He moaned. “I think I’d agree to just about anything with you batting those eyelashes at me.”

“What, like this?” Sirius propped himself up on his elbows behind him, letting the sheet tumble further away from his chest, scooping low around his waist, as he fluttered his lashes through a devilish grin, “Please Remus, please stay and have a glorious day of lazing about and having sex with me?”

“Sirius…” Remus groaned and, having only just retrieved his pants from where they’d been carelessly strewn on the floor several hours ago, sank back down to perch on the bed beside Sirius’ prostrate enticements.

“Ten more minutes?”

“Fine. But no more than that.” Remus sighed, but his smile was wide, as he flopped back over Sirius, trapping what remained of the duvet between them. Sirius didn’t complain, only wrapped his arms around Remus, keeping him firmly on top of him, wriggling happily when Remus started to sprinkle soft kisses over his nose, cheeks and mouth. “And no funny business.”

Sirius pouted, as he muttered, “Where’s the fun in that.”

Remus rolled his eyes, then rolled off of Sirius, back onto the side of the bed he’d only left minutes ago. Sirius rolled with him onto his side, swinging a duvet-swaddled leg over Remus.

“Do you ever not get your way?” Remus flopped his head to the side, staring right into Sirius’ eyes with an amused smile playing on his mouth.

“Rarely.”

“You’re infuriating, Lord Black.” Remus sighed, back to running cool fingers over Sirius’ skin, light caresses against his sides, his eyes following the movement of his hands. Sirius shuddered under the electric touch and the way Remus whispered his name. Noticing this, Remus’ lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “Speaking of, I thought you didn’t like it when I called you Lord Black?”

“I don’t. When you’re being all huffy and difficult.” Sirius ignored the way Remus’ eyebrows raised at that, “Turns out I rather like it when you’re naked in bed with me.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way. Need a visual aid perhaps?” Sirius moved his hand suggestively, itching to throw back the last of the flimsy covering that was nonetheless providing a thin barrier between him and Remus.

“No, enough of that, Sirius. No funny business, remember?”

“Says the man lying starkers in my bed.” Sirius flicked an appreciative gaze up and down Remus’ body, beginning to be able to make out slight details as the light was rising outside. A small mole at the crest of his right hip, more thin pale lines of scars over his torso, though none as deep as the one across his face, and the swirling lines of hair that curled delicately down his chest and abdomen, into the nest from where his cock nestled against his thigh, not quite soft enough for Remus’ proclaimed disinterest. Sirius began to trace a single finger across Remus’ chest, and Remus’ gaze flickered down, watching the movement warily as Sirius followed the line of hair, lower and lower. Remus inhaled sharply, his stomach flexing as Sirius’ finger circled below his navel to the sensitive spot above his waist, but he still didn’t make any sound or movement to stop Sirius’ hand in its tracks as it wrapped around his now-stiffening erection. “Oops.”

“Sirius…” came the faint protest, but then Sirius started to move his hand in long drawn-out strokes, and Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he bit his lip, not quite concealing the delighted moan. “I said…”

“Okay, I’ll stop.” Sirius suggested, stilling his hand.

“Don’t you dare.” Remus warned, opening his eyes again which now flashed dangerously, and he reached up to tangle a hand into Sirius’ hair, before tightening his grip to pull him in to a clumsy kiss. Sirius resumed his movements and soon enough Remus was panting into his mouth, his hips keening upwards to chase the pressure of Sirius’ languid strokes.

“Thought you said no funny business?” Sirius teased in a murmuring voice against Remus’ lips, his eyes never leaving the desperate, heated gaze of Remus’ own.

“I s’pose a little funny business never hurt anyone.” Remus mumbled between frantic breaths, his hand still gripping tight onto Sirius’ hair, while his other trailed fumbling touches over Sirius’ chest, catching on his nipples and making Sirius gasp at the sensation. Then that dangerous glint sparked in Remus’ eyes, and he reached down with his free hand to push back the sheets protecting the last of Sirius’ modesty and took hold of Sirius. Remus tugged at Sirius’ growing erection, a moan slipping from his lips when Remus swiped a thumb over the head of his cock spreading the pool of precome that had started to collect at the tip from watching Remus melt under his touch. Soon they were a sweaty, panting tangle, coming undone in each other’s arms, adding to the mess from hours before as they came together in thick ropes over each other’s hands and stomachs.

“Okay, now I really need a shower,” Remus exhaled heavily, coming down from the momentary high, a wide, blushing smile plastered to his cheeks.

“Great, I’ll join you.”

“Like hell you will, Lord Black. You’ll wait your turn.”

“Yessir.” Sirius grinned dreamily through his shudder, watching Remus extract himself and then shuffle across the room, clutching his clothes from last night and disappearing into the bathroom. Clumsily rubbing the drying come off his stomach with a corner of the bedsheet, he pulled on a shirt and an old pair of silk briefs, resolving to go in search of food, or rather someone who could bring him some. If Remus was going to wind up late to work, Sirius was going to make sure he wasn’t going hungry. As he stepped out of his room, the front door slammed, and a grinning, mussed up James turned the corner, coming face-to-face with Sirius who undoubtedly had a similar dopey expression of bliss on his face.

“James?”

“Sirius!”

“Sirius, I can’t find-”

“Remus?”

“James!” Remus yelped, ducking back behind Sirius’ door from which he’d emerged entirely naked, only partially blocked from James’ view by Sirius standing in front of him.

“James, I can explain- Hang on a minute, how come you’re just now getting in?”

“Well, the thing is-”

“Are those last night’s clothes?”

“Maybe. Was that Remus, naked?”

“Maybe.”

A muffled groan came from the other side of the door, and a light thud that Sirius supposed was Remus’ head falling against the wood. Straining through an exasperated huff, Remus’ disembodied voice floated through the narrow gap under the door, “Sirius, where are your towels?”

“I’d better…” Sirius, pointed sheepishly to the talking door.

“Right, yes, and I should…” James indicated vaguely over Sirius’ shoulder to his own room, “Catch up later?”

“Absolutely.” And Sirius waited for James to pass, before slipping back into his room, immediately confronted by the sight of Remus, still naked, and blushing red from head to toe.

“I’m never leaving this room.” Remus groaned, hiding his face in the clothes still clutched in his hands.

“Suits me.” Sirius shrugged, the grin spreading over his face as Remus groaned again. “Let’s find you a clean towel.”

~~~

Remus did eventually emerge, only to take a quick bite of toast from the mountain of food Sirius had ordered to be laid out for him, before cajoling Sirius into the shower and out the door in record time. It was, after all, Sirius’ fault that Remus was stranded in the middle of the countryside with no means of transport other than Sirius’ death machine. When Sirius pointed out that Remus had hardly seemed to mind riding the ‘death machine’ last night, Remus riposted with the irrefutable evidence of his impaired judgement at the time, to which Sirius offered to once again impair his judgement – an offer which Remus, only with great reluctance, declined.

So Sirius returned with Remus to Alastor’s atelier in the early hours of the morning, arriving in plenty of time for Remus to receive his delivery and begin running about setting the shop in order before Alastor even arrived with two piping cups of coffee. He handed one to Remus, who immediately set it on the counter and resumed running around with barely a rushed morning greeting to his mentor, leaving Sirius alone with Alastor. Alastor seemed to immediately catch on to the situation, what with Sirius and Remus appearing freshly showered and smelling of the same camomile shampoo, but made no comment, only catching Sirius’ eye with a knowing look. Without letting it phase him, Sirius made light conversation, showing a vague interest in his atelier, his family, and his life outside of tailoring, though one field of questioning burned ready to leap from under his tongue.

“Remus tells me you taught him everything he knows?” Sirius prompted, having successfully, if unsubtly, broached the subject he was most eager to get onto. “I must say, Remus is the finest tailor I’ve known. You’ve taught him well.”

“He’s being modest,” Was the gruff reply, Alastor’s knowing gaze appeared to pierce right through Sirius’ futile attempt at subtlety. “Remus was already a dab hand at tailoring before he even set foot in my door, if a little rough around the edges.”

“Did you know him before he came to work for you?”

“Certo che sì!” He exclaimed, sounding almost angry in his explanation, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his delight. “In my younger days I used to go often to visit Remus’ father, and Remus, though he was only a cucciolo at the time. I have pictures somewhere.”

Alastor disappeared too, leaving Sirius to wander vacantly around the shop, listening out for sounds of Remus shuffling in the store-room basement of the atelier. Then he remembered that slight-shimmering purplish black fabric in the window that had caught his eye the day before. He wandered over to the front of the store, finding the model suit still standing proudly, and ran a reverent hand over the material.

“You have a good eye.” Alastor’s growl appeared behind him, startling Sirius, which earned him a throaty laugh. “Don’t worry, you are allowed to touch. This is not a museum, after all.”

“Alastor, what is this fabric?”

“Do you know the writer, Leonardo Fioravanti?” Alastor’s face grew solemn and inspecting as he spoke.

“I can’t say I do…”

“He was a medical doctor of the Renaissance. Like many learned people in those times, he wrote on all subjects that interested him. He called silk-making the art of gentlemen, ‘a craft that exalts the rich and helps the poor’. Silk is the fabric of kings, but it is the sustenance of the simple craftsman. We are not so simple these days. Tailoring is a dying art and requested by many powerful men, so the few of us who can do it well are paid well. But still, we work tireless hours, we pour our love into the craft, and so often it goes unnoticed. To so many of my clients they are simply wearing another suit – an emblem of their status, to be sure – but they do not appreciate the details. That is something that is almost impossible to teach. Remus has always had a good eye for this sort of thing.”

“But what does that-”

“What is that to do with this fabric? Do you know how silk is made, Sirius?” Alastor asked, his rough voice searching, “It is made by silkworms, tiny creatures, who spin their cocoons, and then we take the little balls of thread and boil them, before we spin them onto a spindle. It is a very delicate process. Sirius, tell me, how many cocoons do you think were needed for this silk jacket?”

“A hundred?”

“A hundred? Hundred? Ma no, thousands, Sirius!”

“Right, so that’s a lot.”

“Sì, it is a lot! You know, this is a very rare, very special kind of material. It is still plucked by hand, made by silkworms who have been fed on the mulberry tree, and once it has been spun, it is dyed from the leaves of an indigo plant. This is the highest quality there is.”

“But what does-”

“You are asking me what this fabric is. I have told you, but you are not satisfied with my answer. I think there is another question you are asking.” Sirius hesitated for a long moment, but finally ceded to Alastor’s faultless perception.

“Why is it special to Remus?” At this, finally, a smile splintered across Alastor’s gnarled features and he gave a stern nod, as though this was what he had been waiting to hear all along.

“Remus has always had a good eye. But, il diablo, as I say he was a little rough around the edges. While I was busy with the shop and with clients, I told him, ‘Remus, you take some fabric, any fabric, and you do the same pattern over and over again until I am back, and then I will decide if it is perfect or not’. This was my mistake, you see, because Remus was fascinated by this fabric the moment he set eyes on it, so he worked and worked and tore through yards of this precious material all while I was up in the shop. The way I shouted at him, poor cucciolo! He was so terrified, for a week he did not make a stitch without asking me first.” Alastor seemed to smile fondly at the memory, brushing the back of his knuckles absently against the silk and with a hearty laugh, declared, “Set me back a month’s salary for that mistake alone!”

“You’re not telling that story again,” Remus groaned, appearing with a bashful grin in time to hear the tail end of Alastor’s reminiscence.

“It is my favourite one, you know this.”

“I’ll bet.” Remus grumbled lightly, but shot a wink at Sirius. Sirius frowned.

“You didn’t tell me this material was so expensive.” Remus cocked his head, a slight furrow in his brow crinkling his laughing expression, but not enough for the smile to slip away.

“I seem to recall trying to run costs with you, Lord Black, and being told it didn’t matter, because you would pay ‘whatever the cost’.” Sirius flushed with embarrassment on hearing his own words echoed back to him.

“I can’t have compensated you enough.”

 “Sirius, I promise, I have been charging you fairly for every suit you’ve bought from me.”

“But if the material is as special as Alastor says-”

“Sirius, what’s this about? Did you not like the suit?”

“No, I loved it-”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I didn’t know it was such a rare material.”

“It’s a little rare, and true, I only had enough in my shop for one suit.”

“You were saving it.”

“Perhaps a little.”

“And I demanded it.”

“Sirius, listen to me closely. That material had been sitting in my stock for a decade. It was made to be used, not to waste away on dusty shelves; I was glad to have the opportunity to finally do something with it, and I could not have imagined a better suit for it. Nor a better person.” Sirius’ cheeked warmed under Remus’ stern gaze, “Now, can I get back to work, or are you going to stand here all day rehashing the costs of every suit I’ve ever made you?”

“No, fine. It’s- fine.” Sirius floundered, as Remus stalked away, muttering to himself in that lilted Welsh. After a moment’s pause, Alastor moved to return to work too, leaving the album he had brought back with him on the counter with a purposeful glance at Sirius.

“Like I said,” Alastor muttered for only Sirius to hear, “Remus has always had a good eye.”

~~~

Sirius spent the better part of an hour perusing the old album, pouring over every picture of Remus from the dusty haired boy sticking a tongue out at the camera as he brushed the dirt off his knees, to the far more subdued teenager who seemed to be intent on pretending the camera wasn’t there, hiding himself behind some cover of a book. About half-way through, they abruptly changed from pictures that Sirius recognised as having been taken in Wales to ones in Florence of an adult, but still young-looking Remus, now with the scars visible on his face. Most were pictures of Remus bowed over some fiddly stitching, oblivious that he was being captured for posterity in still-framed vignettes. Gradually, however, the Remus in the photographs became more carefree, and the frequency of photos taken outside the confines of Alastor’s workshop increased – pictures of Remus smiling at the photographer in front of some artwork or laughing broadly while holding a dribbling ice-cream cone. After returning the album with his thanks to Alastor, and only once he had received assurance from Remus that he would be finished by five o'clock for Sirius to come and pick him up, Sirius returned to the villa.

He found James lounging outside, as they had been doing on previous days, but now he appeared to be in a distant land of thought, sunglasses covering a dreamy smile as he drooped an arm over the edge of the pool, letting his hand glide over the surface of the water.

“Prongs.” Sirius greeted, maintaining a stern, detached composure, “I believe you have some explaining to do.”

Sirius, once he was done recounting his night with Remus in explicit detail (though he avoided mentioning the ‘Lord Black’ incident), demanded James do the same. As it turned out, James had, rather surprisingly given Lily’s earlier slights and her apparently sound judgement, ended up spending the night at Lily’s flat. James, however, insisted there were no details to share.

“We were up all night just talking.”

“Just talking?” Sirius echoed, dubious.

“Just talking. It was incredible, Sirius. I think she was laughing at me most of the time, but she’s so beautiful when she laughs. I think I’d do a dozen stupid things every day if I could see her laugh each time.”

“You do a dozen stupid things every day.”

“There we are then. It’d all be worth it if only Lily were there to laugh at me.” He breathed an infatuated sigh into the distance.

“Oh my god, you sap.”

“Hush, Padfoot, I’m in love.”

“You’re in- bloody hell, Prongs, you only just met the woman!”

“And?”

“For all you know she was waiting for you to take a hint and show yourself out. Probably too nice to say anything.”

“No, Pads, you don’t understand. It was there. That spark. That special thing. That thing my parents have. That thing you have with Remus-”

“Now hang on a minute-”

“Oh, don’t try and deny it, mate. You are gone for that man.” Sirius blustered a few muffled excuses, but his defence landed inconclusively, as James raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s okay if you don’t want to say it yet, Padfoot, but I’m sorry to say, you are going to fall in love with Remus Lupin. What the two of you have is special, so don’t let it go for nothing, alright?”

“James... come on, I-”

“So help me god, Sirius, I will murder you myself.”

“Fine.” Sirius hmphed, and then sighed releasing the tense frown that had accumulated since James had even mentioned the word ‘love’. “Maybe - and I’m not saying I’m there yet - but you might possibly, maybe have a point. Why do you have to be always so bloody right all the time.”

“Special talent.” James beamed, poking out a mocking tongue, as Sirius rolled his eyebrows. Then, despite the sunshine, despite the recent memory of floating smiles and gentle touches, something dark edged into Sirius’ mind, something he had been forcing out since he stumbled upon Remus in that breezy atelier. He had been lost in the hot sunny whirlwind of infatuation, too relieved at being given another chance with Remus, too swept away by the romance of it all to think about what happened next. But now a chilling shadow threatened his fleeting happiness.

“I’m scared, James.”

“I know.”

“What happens if she finds out?”

“That’s something you need to talk about with Remus. Communicate, remember?”

“I don’t want to think about that with him right now. I want to enjoy what we have. I don’t even want to think about what happens when we go back home.”

“Sirius, that’s called denial.”

“So what.”

“I’m saying this because I love you. If you want this thing with you and Remus to work beyond the here and now, you have to communicate-”

“But I-”

“And I do not mean laying down useless ultimatums about wanting to be friends. You have to be honest with yourself and with him about what you want. And let him be honest with you too.”

“What if it’s too much for him? What if I tell him… and he decides I’m not worth all the trouble.”

“Then he’s not the one for you.” James shrugged, as if the idea didn’t fracture splinters in Sirius’ chest, but before Sirius could go into a tailspin, he continued, “But, Sirius, I really doubt that will happen. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. God knows how he’s still attracted to you after having you for a client, but I do believe that man would put up with just about anything to be with you. If anything, I swear he looked more loved up when you started being a posh twat about Marlene’s wine pairings.”

“She was going to have a chianti with the tuna niçoise, James.” Sirius stared him down over the top of his sunglasses, deadly serious in his concern.

“Point is. I’ve never seen you so happy, Sirius. Something like that is worth fighting for.”

“Point taken, Prongs. Christ, when did you get so bloody wise…” Sirius blushed heavily, and fidgeted in his lounger, discomfited by having his emotions laid bare so thoroughly, even by his best mate. “Now, if you refuse to share the sordid details of your night with Lily, I’m going to have to insist on some other form of entertainment.”

“For the last time, there’s nothing to share!” James protested, and Sirius hummed in disbelief, “Oh for- why do I bother… What did you have in mind?”

“Strip poker?”

“You’re only wearing trunks, Pads.”

“Bet you’ll still be naked first.”

“Fine, you’re on.”

“James?”

“Hmm?” James didn’t look up from where he’d already begun furiously dealing out the pack of cards that had been lying on the table between their loungers.

“I want to fight for Remus.”

“Good. Then do that.”

“What if I’m not strong enough?” James paused, pursed his lips, and took a deep breath before looking up to meet Sirius’ anxious eyes with his own fiercely burning gaze.

“You are the strongest person I know, Padfoot. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

~~~

Sirius was almost late to pick up Remus from work. He had been suddenly overcome with nerves, fretting about what to wear, until half his wardrobe was sprawled across the bed in a chaos of colour. Everything seemed inadequate after last night, everything felt so important. At length, with some talking down from James, Sirius had made it out wearing another of the summer suits Remus had made him – a bit more formal, a bit less risqué than the one he’d worn on the previous night.

The glowing sunset warmed the streets as Sirius walked down the promenade in his brilliant suit, patched with mesh gold inserts that carved sparkling rivers over his torso and legs. The evening was cool enough for him to wear the accompanying waistcoat that Remus had made as part of the suit, but Sirius ensured that the buttons of his featherlight silk shirt beneath were undone as low as polite society would allow. Hidden behind sleek black sunglasses, Sirius turned his nose up at stares from passersby, grateful that they couldn’t see the way his heart was leaping out of his chest beneath the delicate fabric.

Remus was waiting for him out front again, not bothering to hide the way his eyes flickered appreciatively over Sirius’ figure as he approached.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Remus started, his grin settling into Sirius’ favourite smirk, before he even had a chance to greet him properly.

“Alright… what’s the good news?”

“Good news is Al’s forced me to take the rest of the week off. Apparently, I’m no use to him with my head all in the clouds, or at least I think he said something along those lines. So, I’m all yours for the weekend.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Thought you might. Bad news is, I hate being told what to do, so I’ve been in an incorrigibly bad mood all day and am in desperate need of cheering up.” Despite his words, Remus looked brighter than ever, his smirk grew broader, his eyes glinted with that tantalising spark of mischief that Sirius wanted to put a frame around and hang on his wall.

“And I think I can help with that.”

“I was hoping you would. So, where are we headed this evening? You said to dress nice. Is this… acceptable?” and there was a suggestion of nervousness crowding Remus’ face as he glanced down at his own suit, which was nowhere near as extravagant as Sirius’. Nevertheless, Remus was a vision and Sirius allowed himself a prolonged, self-indulgent look up and down the man standing before him, tilting his shades to admire the way Remus’ powder-blue fitted suit hugged his figure.

“Yes. Yes, that will do nicely.” He purred, then took hold of Remus, their hands fitting together as if that was where they had always belonged, and then tugged him to follow.

This may be Remus’ city, but there was one thing that Sirius knew no matter where he found himself. And no one knew luxury quite like Sirius Black. When they arrived at the restaurant, Sirius was so busy congratulating himself on his choice that he almost failed to notice Remus frozen next to him, slack jawed as he took in the marbled walls and gilded ceilings.

He turned away from the extravagant furnishings in front of him back towards Sirius, and his face collapsed into meek concern, “Sirius, this is too much. You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” He shrugged, ignoring Remus’ protests.

“Sirius.” Came the stern reproval, accompanied by a stubborn glare of Remus digging his heels in. The waiter had come over to show them to their table and was now stuck glancing between the two of them locked in this impasse.

“Remus. Please let me do this for you. You’ve done so much for me already. Let me spoil you, just this once.”

Remus’ concern darted back and forth beneath his furrowed frown, as though he were looking for something behind Sirius’ grey eyes. He considered for a moment, before acquiescing with a shy nod.

“Fine. Just this once. But you have to promise that we only go places I can actually afford to eat at from now on.”

“Promise.” Was Sirius’ solemn oath, completely at odds with the triumphant look on his face as he pulled a chair out, nodding for Remus to sit.

“Sirius…”

“Humour me.” Remus sat, and only grumbled a little before the waiter was talking them through the wine list and the chef’s special.

“We have sir’s preferred veal dish on the menu, of course, and may I suggest pairing it with the ’74 Messorio Le Macchiole?”

“Thank you, the veal sounds perfect, but I will not be drinking tonight. Remus, what would you like?”

“Um… I, uh- I…” Sirius only then noticed the panic-stricken expression as Remus confronted the menu, overwhelmed by choice.

“We need a few more minutes.” Sirius requested in his haughtiest command.

“Certainly, sir.” Sirius didn’t miss the waiter’s curious glance towards Remus, tinged with faint disapproval.

“Sorry.” Remus grimaced. This was not how Sirius had wanted to start the evening.

“Don’t be sorry. Take your time.” Sirius waited patiently while Remus browsed with a deepening frown. “And don’t think I don’t see you checking the prices. It’s on me. Order what you like.”

“Sirius, I don’t even know what half of this stuff is.”

“I thought you speak Italian?”

“Funnily enough my vocabulary isn’t quite up to scratch for Michelin star dining.”

“Fine, do you trust me?”

“I suppose…” Sirius snorted at the evident suspicion lacing Remus’ voice.

“Any allergies? Anything you don’t like?”

“Not really. I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

“Excellent.” Sirius called the waiter back over, reeling off a list of dishes that he thought Remus might enjoy. “Drink?” he turned back to Remus, briefly.

“Water’s fine.”

“Remus-”

“I’ll have tap water.” Remus insisted to the waiter, who nodded obligingly only after casting an uncertain glance towards Sirius, who simply raised a foreboding eyebrow in return.

“You didn’t want wine?” Remus asked, once the waiter had disappeared with their order.

“I’m not drinking.” Sirius shrugged.

“I noticed. That’s… I’m proud of you.” And Sirius felt that small seed of pride plant in the pit of stomach, welling into something majestic beneath his lungs. Outwardly, he avoided Remus’ eyes and merely shrugged.

“One too many nights I can’t remember.”

“Do you- um, is this about what happened at new year’s?”

“A little.” Sirius admitted, now feigning an overt interest in a smudge on his empty waterglass. If he were his mother, he’d already be demanding to have someone fired. “I do have a bit of a confession, Remus.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t really remember much from that night. I remember shouting outside your shop, I remember the hot chocolate, and I remember kissing you. Wanting to kiss you lots.”

“That’s more or less the gist of it. I’d sort of worked out that you’d forgotten most of it anyway.”

“It wasn’t because it didn’t mean anything to me, Remus. I need you to know that.”

“I worked that out too, eventually. I just… sorry if I was a bit short with you after. I- at first, I did think… but, well, I may not know why, but it’s obvious that this isn’t easy for you. And I can guess at any rate that your position comes with its fair share of expectations.”

“It does.” Remus reached his hand across the table, plucking the glass from Sirius to replace it with his own hand. Sirius thought back to when Remus had done the same thing so easily over a cup of tea as he shared his most painful memories with Sirius. Sirius knew he needed do the same, to communicate, to tell Remus about his mother, the scandal… his brother. If only to warn him away. But the truth caught in his throat and Remus was speaking again before Sirius could build up the courage.

“Can I ask what changed? That night… and then on my birthday… there was always something holding you back before. Why now?”

That question was much more easily answered, and Sirius felt the smile lift, reminded of how he had felt when he had seen Remus again in Alastor’s shop for the first time in weeks, the hope he’d felt after being so sure that he had once again ruined everything. The relief at finding that teasing smirk still waiting for him, “After I didn’t hear from you, I realised how much I missed you. Then, when I saw you here… I knew I didn’t want to be without you anymore.”

Remus melted in a soft smile, affection swelling warmth in his eyes, as his thumb brushed over Sirius’ hand in slow, calming movements. “I didn’t do it on purpose, freezing you out, I mean. I wasn’t screening your calls. I, well, I suppose I was a bit annoyed at first, more at myself than anything, because you’d told me often enough that you weren’t in any position to be getting involved with me, but I kept hoping. I felt like a bloody idiot-”

“I didn’t make it any easier, all that flirting when I knew I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t encourage it. Even when I started to understand what was holding you back. I was planning on calling you, but then I got some bad news. I called Lily and got on the next flight here.”

“Bad news?”

“My dad.”

“Is he-”

“He’s fine. For now… can we not? I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to enjoy being here, with you.” And Sirius shook off the guilty pang, cleared his head of James’ nagging reminders, because after all, that was all he wanted too. To enjoy being with Remus for as long as he could.

“Of course.” A moment passed, Remus fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of his sleeve. Perhaps it had been a mistake, bringing him here. Sirius wanted to lavish him in every luxury, but he also wanted him to be comfortable. After he considered for another moment, Sirius spoke, “Remus, I do have one question.”

“Yes?”

“At new year’s… were there badgers, or did I dream that?”

Remus burst out laughing. No, it wasn’t the time. Not yet. Let Sirius have his smiles, his laughter, his mischievous smirks, and his glinting mahogany eyes. Let him have them for one more night before he broke whatever enchantment was holding this lovely man enthralled, a lovely man whom Sirius couldn’t begin to deserve.

Sirius was tempted to leave the restaurant then and there, but he was intent on showering Remus with every luxury he knew, and so they stayed as several courses of food came and went, Remus looking increasingly overwhelmed by the grandeur. Nevertheless, he ate everything that was brought before him – if with a few protests and dubious looks towards Sirius, no doubt despairing at the mounting cost as each plate cleared only to be replaced by another. But when he closed his eyes and hummed around a mouthful in serene enjoyment, Sirius thought he would have bought the entire restaurant and had it shipped to Wales if it meant he could see that expression again.

Sirius considered for a moment, desperate to see if he could provoke a similar reaction without the help of expensive food. He stretched a leg forward under the table, running his foot up the inside of Remus’ leg, and beamed at the blush rising to Remus’ cheeks.

“Sirius, what are you doing?”

“Seducing you.”

“Is that so?” his tone slicked back with mischief. Sirius didn’t answer, only raised his foot higher up Remus’ leg, watching Remus’ eyebrows raise with it, “Well you better stop. Unless you want me to bend you over the table right here in this restaurant.” Remus lips quirked as Sirius’ foot dropped with a thud back to the floor, his fork, which he’d been using to steady a potato he was cutting, slipped forward, almost landing his sleeve into the plate of food in front of him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no.” Sirius found himself replying. Remus only rolled his eyes, but his smirk grew broader.

“Be good, Lord Black, and finish your food. It would be a crime for any of this to go to waste.” Sirius agreed, but his throat was suddenly too dry for food, so he simply watched Remus eat for a while, content to feed him morsels from his own plate, when he caught Remus looking over with interest. They ordered dessert, but only one between them. Remus was happy since Sirius had reigned in the extravagance at his request and Sirius was happy since Remus allowed Sirius to feed him the panna cotta from the single teaspoon.

~~~

Once Sirius had settled the bill, refusing point-blank to let Remus see, they rode back. Remus pressed against Sirius’ back, but they continued to chat conversationally even once they reached the villa, casually exchanging intimate touches as they did so. They sat on one of the sofas, their bodies a little too close, Sirius resting a hand on Remus’ leg, Remus reaching up every now-and-then to stroke back Sirius’ hair, or brush against his arm.

“I reckon you would have been best mates with me and James in school.” Sirius grinned, after Remus finished telling him about the time he’d gotten into trouble for liberating a score of mice that were being kept for school experiments.

“Oh sure, that seems likely,” Remus laughed, “I bet you two were a right pair of posh tossers.”

“We were not!” Sirius insisted, “Alright, we were a bit. But we had a lot of fun, and we’d have liked you.”

“You’d have bullied me.”

“Absolutely not. We only ever bullied other posh twats who acted like they were better than everyone else.”

“You act like you’re better than everyone else.”

“I am better than everyone else.” Sirius winked, with a mocking waggle of his eyebrows. Most of his haughty outward-facing demeanour was put on, exaggerated for the benefit of strangers, but there was a thin layer of elitism that had been ingrained since before he could remember. The only time he’d even thought to question it was when he’d first met the Potters, who were undeniably the most indiscriminately generous, kind-hearted people on the planet. Sirius, enamoured of their kindness, had little by little begun correcting himself with James’ help, but since he had met Remus, he had been making a concerted effort to improve. “Besides, don’t tell me you don’t find it unbearably attractive.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree, to Sirius’ delight. “You know, I thought I’d forgotten to wake up when you walked into my shop that first time. And not only because you were so fucking gorgeous, I thought I had to still be dreaming. If I’d only known then what I know now, I’d never have been intimidated by the imposing Lord Black.”

“You were intimidated?” Sirius asked, though his stomach flipped at the compliment that Remus had smuggled between the lines of his confession.

“I felt like I was back at school being scolded for not handing in homework… albeit by a very sexy teacher.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, it’s become very entertaining for me now.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested into a pout, but when he spoke again it was with an apology between his teeth, “I don’t mean to be such a snob. It’s a bad habit.”

“You’re not a snob.” Sirius raised his eyebrows at that. “Alright, you are a little. But you’re not as bad as you try to seem. The first time we met I thought I’d been transported back in time. It was downright feudal.”

“You know James was amazed you could fancy me after being my tailor. And I suppose I sort of agree. I can’t work out why you’ve always been so nice to me, even when I was acting like a right prat.” And Remus broke into that beautiful smile that had first set Sirius’ heart racing all those months ago.

“I guess I’ve got a soft spot for gorgeous aristocrats who come into my shop demanding the world. Plus, I like how you look in my suits.” He admitted, a little bashful, and the blush that filled Remus’ cheeks at the admission was exquisite. Sirius leaned forward, pressing a hand to Remus’ cheek and running a thumb over the red splashes in appreciation. He pressed a chaste kiss to Remus’ jaw, leaning forward to whisper against his ear.

“You like how I look out of them even more.” And Remus’ teasing laughter sent ripples from his head, down his spine, into a bubbling warmth beneath the dip of his stomach.

“Perhaps.” They were close now, their noses brushing. All of a sudden, the simmering tension made way for the urgent reality that they were alone together, where Sirius could trace Remus’ figure with kisses and worshipful touches all night and all the next day and the day after, if he wanted. Sirius allowed his gaze to flicker towards Remus lips, and then back to his eyes where he saw a hungry look that must have mirrored his own.

“Was I really that bad?” Sirius asked tentatively, breathing heatedly into the tension mounting between them. Remus, who had appeared equally lost in the immediacy of the moment, gave a light snort that brushed warmth over Sirius’ skin, an eyebrow lifting with his smirk at Sirius’ attempt to continue making conversation.

“You asked me if I was educated on a farm?” Remus chuckled drawing away for now, though the awareness that the night was inexorably tumbling towards a single conclusion seemed no less apparent to either of them. Sirius flushed, remembering with no small embarrassment as his own sneering words returned to him: You are a human, possessed of human language, are you not?

“Something my mother used to say to us…” he winced.

“Used to? I thought-”

“What? Oh, oh no. The old hag is very much still alive, but it’s been a long time since either me or my brother made the mistake of using anything but the most proper English around her. Drilled into us from an early age and all that.” Sirius shrugged, choosing to ignore Remus’ anguished expression and put off the inevitable conversation for a little while longer.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.” Sirius cut off shortly and then sighed, “Don’t pity me. Please. I’m meant to be seducing you. Can’t very well do that if you’re over there feeling sorry for poor little Lord Black with all his wealth and land and titles.”

“Money isn’t everything.” And Remus’ voice was at once reproving yet unmistakably kind.

“Isn’t it?”

“I bloody well hope not with the amount of debt I’m in.” Remus snorted a nettled laugh.

“Debt?”

“Don’t.” Remus echoed Sirius’ plea. “let’s not make it more of an uneven playing field than it has to be. You’re meant to be seducing me.”

Sirius returned his hand to Remus’ cheek, running a thumb over his jaw, then over his lips, watching the way his mouth fell open at the touch, and then pressed his lips where his thumb had been. When he drew away for breath, he saw that Remus was flushed and his breathing a little shallower than before.

“Why, Remus, I believe I already have.” A smug smile coiled around Sirius’ lips, as Remus rolled his eyes playfully, making no effort to pull away from Sirius’ touches this time. Instead, he raised his hands from where they’d been fidgeting in his lap, and sunk them into Sirius’ hair, entangling his fingers between the dark locks to pull Sirius back for a long, consuming kiss. Then he took hold of Sirius’ hands, twining their fingers together, and rising to his feet, he pulled Sirius to his room in slow, purposeful steps, shining eyes never leaving Sirius’. Where moments ago Remus had appeared almost nervous, now something deep and longing had taken up in his expression as he settled them onto the bed, dipping Sirius into a deep kiss. And then Sirius pulled away.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked with protest rising in his voice, as Sirius stood up, backing away from the bed, where Remus was now sitting up, looking severely unimpressed.

“I’m testing a theory.”

“Oh really? And what theory is that?”

“Whether you like me more in your suits, or out of them.” He carefully took his jacket off, taking time to extract a hanger and straighten out the creases as he hung the jacket back in his wardrobe. Remus gave a low impatient growl.

“You’re teasing me, Lord Black.”

“I would never,” Sirius smirked, though he couldn’t hide his shudder at the way Remus used his title, almost like a threat. Like a delicious, enticing threat of all the things Remus wanted to do to him. He persisted in his little game, slipping his shoes off and lining them up at the bottom of the drawers. Sirius left Remus watching, taking extra time to exaggerate his movements, as he bent down to let Remus savour exactly how well his suit fitted him. When he turned back, he observed the growing bulge in Remus’ own trousers with no small amount of smugness. He was slow and deliberate as he slipped off his waistcoat, once again putting it away with great care, and then he stepped slowly towards Remus as he started undoing the buttons on his shirt. He could see Remus’ fingers flexing at his sides, glaring at Sirius’ own hands that dared to undo his buttons. But they were already undone by the time Sirius came to stand within Remus’ reach.

With a glazed over expression, Remus reached up to stroke his palm over Sirius’ stomach, warm hands moving over Sirius’ skin and clutching at his waist to pull him closer. It didn’t escape Sirius’ notice that Remus’ mouth was only inches from his cock, and he couldn’t help the stiffening beneath his trousers as he remembered the last time Remus’ mouth had been around him. Sirius’ breath quickened, his whole body heating under Remus’ intense, wanting gaze. But that wouldn’t stop him having his fun. He started to pull away again, only for Remus to tighten his grip around his waist.

“And where do you think you’re going?” came the growl, thick with need and the threat of a promise.

“Hang up my shirt,” Sirius tried to keep his voice steady, but he couldn’t keep out the slight catch of his breathless desire.

“No, I don’t think so.” Remus decided, his eyes busy drinking in every inch of Sirius’ exposed skin in front of him.

“I don’t want to ruin your lovely suit, Remus.” Sirius’ teeth pinched his lip as the heat of Remus’ roaming eyes prickled at his skin, anticipating the touches that would follow once he’d soaked up all he could with his eyes alone.

“Hang the bloody suit.”

“That’s what I’m-”

“Oh, think you’re clever, do you?”

“Quite.” Sirius smirked, but it dropped the instant those brown eyes snapped up to meet his own, dark and dangerous. Before Sirius could react, he was flipped on his back on the bed. He was laid out on the mattress, his shirt crumpling under him, Remus now hovering over him.

“Still think you’re clever now, Lord Black?” Sirius gulped, his mouth running dry, feeling like prey trapped beneath a ravenous beast. “Still think it’s fun to tease me and keep me waiting? Well?” Remus prompted, impatient when Sirius didn’t reply. Sirius managed to nod, and it was Remus’ turn to smirk, something sinister and irrevocably tempting.

“Oh, you do, do you? You’ve had quite a lot of fun teasing me, haven’t you, Lord Black. Swanning in and out of my shop, faffing about with your buttons, undressing yourself without any regard for common decency. And I’ve waited, patiently. Haven’t I?”

“Yes.” Sirius breathed, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.

“Now I think it’s your turn to wait.” A small whine escaped Sirius lips, as he keened at the warning in Remus’ voice.

“Do you have a safe word, Sirius? I think you’re going to need it.”

“I… no, I, uh-” Sirius could hardly think, couldn’t find a single word rolling around in his brain, all he could think about was the way Remus was rubbing soft circles against his neck, where his hand was curled around the base, knotting into his hair.

“Colours, then. You know how to use them?”

“I… I think so.”

“Repeat after me: Red means stop.”

“Red means stop.”

“Yellow means pause.”

“Yellow means pause.”

“Green means all good.”

“Green means all good.”

“You think you can use those for me, sweetheart?”

“I think so.”

“Good. But just in case, you say stop and we stop, you say no and we stop, you say anything that makes me think you’re not enjoying this even slightly, and we stop. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Very good, Lord Black. Otherwise, I’m going to bring you right to the edge again and again, I’m going to keep going until you can’t take it, and then I’m going to make you wait some more. Unless you use your safe words, you are to do exactly as I tell you, and you’re not to come until I let you. How does that sound?”

“Yeah… that sounds, uh…”

“Colour?”

“Green. Yes, green, definitely green.”

“Lovely. Then let’s begin.”

“Remus, wait-”

“Yes, love?” Remus’ eyes were immediately filled with concern, raising a hand to Sirius’ cheek with a delicate touch.

“My suit.” And once again that wicked smirk returned to Remus’ lips.

“I thought you were doing an experiment, Lord Black? Don’t you want to see the results?” Sirius could only give a frantic nod in reply, “Then I think your suit will stay on. You better take care not to ruin it. Colour?”

“Green.”

“Be honest with me, Sirius. If you don’t like it, we stop.”

“Green.” Sirius insisted. Remus searched Sirius’ eyes for a moment, and once he was content with what he saw, he began trailing kisses down the column of Sirius’ throat, over his chest, lapping at his exposed nipples standing firm at Remus’ touch. Sirius arched into the attentions, a shiver running down his spine when Remus dragged his teeth over Sirius’ chest, leaving a trail of light nips, before biting more firmly into the soft flesh below his ribs.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” Remus asked boldly, as his hand traced over the trail of bruising marks he’d left with his mouth, before continuing down to the waist of Sirius trousers. Sirius found himself holding his breath, as Remus toyed at the little black button fastenings, and then ever so lightly tugged the zip open, carefully avoiding giving any relief to Sirius’ hardening tension underneath.

“Feels good.” And Remus grinned hungrily, using a single finger to tug at the band of Sirius’ boxers, exposing him to the cool evening as his cock sprung free, jutting into the empty air. It jumped a little, chasing some stimulation, but Remus kept his hand carefully resting on Sirius’ covered thigh. Sirius watched Remus watching him, his smirk twisting dangerously as he bit at his bottom lip, looking ready to devour Sirius.

“What would you like me to do now?”

“Want you to touch me.”

“Here?” Came the mocking question, as Remus withdrew his hand, bringing back to Sirius’ cheek, with a torturous gentle caress.

“Remus…” his plea came out as little more than a whine.

“No? Perhaps here then?” His hand stroked over his nipples again, pinching slightly with a light twist.

“Please Remus…”

“Oh dear, Lord Black, already begging. This does not bode well for you.”

“Remus-” but he was cut short by Remus wrapping his hand around him, his grip not quite tight enough for the relief Sirius craved as he made languid movements along his shaft.

“Is this what you wanted, Lord Black?” Sirius nodded lightly, and only formed the soundless shape of ‘more’ on his lips, quivering at the lightness of Remus’ touch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that?”

“More, I want more.”

“Oh, do you? Like this?” Remus tightened his grip ever so slightly, and Sirius moaned when his fist twisted over the top and then all the way down to the base. Remus continued in hard, vigorous movements for several strokes, and Sirius’ hips began to rock into the motions, already chasing his release. Then Remus withdrew his hand completely. “Not yet, love.”

He planted a light kiss on Sirius’ lips and then stood, leaving Sirius in a dizzy trance on the bed. The heat that had risen to his head in the increasing stimulation still swirled his thoughts, as he watched Remus step further away and begin to undress, slowly, cruelly, taking his time as Sirius had done. But Sirius was in no state to stop him, and could only watch with desperate shallow breaths, as Remus hung his jacket on the doorknob, placed his socks and shoes neatly by the door, folded his shirt and trousers into a neat pile on Sirius’ dresser. With his hard length visible beneath his briefs, Remus kept his distance and using a clumsy hand, he gripped himself through the worn material. He groaned at the touch, tilting his head up to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. Sirius watched a swallow bobbing beneath the stubble-dusted line of his throat. Then held his breath as he watched Remus stroke himself beneath the material, moaning as he did so.

Remus returned to the head of the bed, giving a small, arrogant chuckle at Sirius’ expression, no doubt gawking and unfocused. Still, he held himself, watching Sirius as he continued to bring himself to stiffening hardness beneath the thin material that was already a little damp with arousal. With his free hand, Remus ran his fingers over Sirius’ cheek, along the shell of his ear, and Sirius’ eyes closed at the gentle touch. Nimble hands wound a grip knotting into Sirius’ hair, tilting his head forwards to where Remus was tugging his boxers off with one hand, keeping Sirius facing towards him with the other. Not that Sirius could have looked away from the sight of Remus coming undone at his own skilful hands.

“I’m done waiting, Lord Black. Do you know how many times I imagined you on your knees in my shop? How desperately I wanted to see you fucking your mouth on my cock, surrounded by all those mirrors.” Sirius moaned, craning his head forward, but Remus remained out of reach. “I bet you’d look gorgeous, on your knees for me, watching yourself take my cock like the good boy you are.”

“Fuck, Remus, please let me…”

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.” And Remus took that final step forward, stepping out of his briefs now crumpled on the floor. Holding his cock in one hand, pulling Sirius towards him with the other, he brought himself close enough to run the drooling tip across Sirius’ bottom lip. Sirius’ tongue flickered out to taste the trail left behind as Remus withdrew again, before he returned to nudge more purposefully at Sirius’ lips. Sirius let them fall open obediently, relaxing his tongue, for Remus to brush the tip against, and then slowly, gradually, with painstaking patience, his cock slipped past Sirius’ lips, gliding over Sirius’ tongue. His thick, throbbing length pushed deeper and deeper into his mouth until it brushed the back of Sirius’ throat. Sirius moved to take the remaining length in his hands, but Remus stopped him, withdrawing his cock with a light tut.

“No, Lord Black. No hands. You can take it all in your mouth for me, can’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes, Remus.”

“Good boy.” Sirius shivered at the soft-spoken praise, and Remus was once more pushing between his lips, hot and heavy on his tongue. Once again Remus’ tip brushed against the back of his throat, and then Remus paused his movements. Sirius looked up at the man above him, deep into his eyes, and he saw him trembling with need, his breath catching at the eye contact, even as he raised an expectant eyebrow waiting for Sirius to keep going. “Come on, love, take it for me.”

And Sirius did. He relaxed his jaw, his tongue, his throat, let himself fall slack under Remus’ gaze, as he inched himself forward, taking Remus down. Remus moaned, deep and growling, closing his eyes at the sensation, his neck once again tilting back with pleasure as Sirius took him all the way to the base. Seeing him so far gone, Sirius let a hand wander up inside Remus’ thigh, rubbing at the soft skin. Then, raising his hand, he drifted higher and higher until his fingers stroked Remus’ balls, in light careful movements. Remus jerked forward above him, thrusting deeper into Sirius’ throat until Sirius could barely breath, pushed tightly into the curls at the base of Remus’ cock.

“Fuck, Sirius…” Remus moaned, with unguarded pleasure, and then he pulled himself out of Sirius’ mouth completely, letting Sirius draw breath back into his lungs. “Still green?”

“Yes, definitely green.” Sirius answered, a little husky, and watched Remus’ gaze darken at the slight break in his voice. “Want you to fuck my throat.”

“Fuck.” Remus growled, “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

“Tap my leg and I stop.”

“Okay.”

“Do it now.” Sirius tapped Remus’ thigh with the hand that had been stroking his balls all the while. “Very good, Lord Black. I’m going to fuck your mouth now.”

“Please…” Sirius rasped, and then Remus thrust his cock deep into Sirius’ throat, pulling Sirius into his crotch, and then with a steady but unrelenting rhythm, he fucked himself into Sirius’ mouth. Barely letting him draw breath through his nose, Remus’ cock hit the back of his throat again and again and again, gagging Sirius with his forceful movements, until Sirius could feel tears springing from his eyes. But Sirius only swallowed him deeper, his own cock pulsing with desire when he tightened his throat around Remus and was rewarded with a low, ecstatic groan. Remus’ thrusts sped up until they became clumsy movements, and Sirius felt the heavy cock throbbing in his mouth. Panting heavily above him, Remus released himself down Sirius’ throat with one final, deep thrust. He was still coming as he began to pull out, trailing come over Sirius’ tongue and lips, a little dribbling down his chin. In one last shallow thrust back in between his lips, Remus released a final spurt on Sirius’ tongue. Sirius drank it all, lapping around Remus’ cock to clean the mess, while Remus trailed a finger, gathering up the come on Sirius’ face to let him lick that up too.

“Fuck, Sirius. That was so good… you were so good for me.”

“Please can I come now?” he begged, his rasping voice sore from Remus’ use, his cock swollen from the arousal at making Remus come.

“Oh no, Lord Black, we’re hardly getting started.” Sirius whimpered, as Remus crowded over him, pulling him into a deep, sloppy kiss. Their tongues twisted together, Remus’ come mixing with pooling saliva, panting into each other’s mouths as the kiss deepened. Remus, settled himself over Sirius with his knees either side, never once allowing their lips to part, as he returned to tugging at Sirius’ cock, his tugs firm and without any hint of his earlier teasing. Sirius rocked his hips into the touch, matching Remus’ movements, as he stroked him from base to tip. All the while Remus drowned him in deep, hungry kisses, until Sirius could feel the heat flushing through his body again and his arousal throbbing on edge.

“Don’t come.” Remus commanded into his mouth, his hand never relenting in its hard, rapid strokes, and Sirius whined.

“I- I can’t… Remus.”

“Colour?”

“G-green.”

“Don’t come,” he repeated, using his other hand to tighten a firm grip around the base of Sirius’ cock. Sirius writhed underneath him as the torment continued, desperately holding onto his last breath of sanity, and just when he thought he was about to give in and disobey Remus’ wishes, Remus released him, his cock kicking up into the air at the sudden lack of stimulation.

Remus repeated the torment a couple more times until his own cock was hard again. Then he doubled down on the stimulation, using Sirius’ dripping precome to lubricate himself and took them together in his hand, still ordering Sirius to hold himself back as he rode himself to climax for the second time that night, spurting lines of white come over Sirius’ still aching cock and stomach.

Once again, Remus stopped, allowing Sirius to come back down from the edge, while he admired the trails of white striped over Sirius’ body. Sirius looked blearily into the warm brown eyes above him, brimming with tenderness even as they roamed greedily over Sirius’ body. Sirius looked down at himself – he was a mess. His shirt was crumpled beyond ruin beneath him, his chest was heaving, skin slick with sweat and Remus’ come, his own beautiful white trousers, dark with the damp of his and Remus’ arousal.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” Remus breathed in a hushed, reverent murmur, and then once again, took Sirius in his hand, bringing him to the edge, before releasing him to trail light touches everywhere but the one place Sirius desperately needed him to.

Sirius moaned, breathless under Remus’ agonising touches. Only garbled sounds came out as Remus’ hands stroked over the tender flesh above that vitally neglected area, and then returned to stroking his cock with a firm grip and fast movements.

“Nnggh, re- oh f-fu…nnggh.” Was all that came out. Remus’ grin became near-enough predatory at Sirius’ noise, and he crawled down the bed, levelling his mouth with Sirius’ cock, not quite touching.

“My, my, Lord Black,” Remus crooned in a perfect imitation of Sirius’ haughty sneer, his breath warm over Sirius’ cock, as he continued tracing tantalising touches over Sirius’ waist, dipping his fingers just below the line of his trousers to give himself better access, “You are a human, possessed of human language, are you not?”

“R-remuss…” Sirius gasped, his hips stuttering into the empty air above his aching cock.

“Beg for me, darling.”

“Oh god, please Remus. Please let me come. I- I need…nghhh…” Remus hand tightened around his cock again as he pleaded for release, once again releasing him to a complete lack of sensation.

“What, sweetheart, what do you need? Tell me what you want.”

“I need your m-mouth… need you on my cock.”

“Oh, is that what you want?” Remus hummed, lightly tracing a finger over the tip in pure agonising torture, before withdrawing his touch completely all over again, hovering his lips above Sirius’ painfully twitching erection as he looked up beneath his lashes with desire burning in brown eyes. He continued in a low taunt, “Want me to taste how good you are? Want my lips to kiss that pretty little cock of yours? Want to fill my mouth with your come, make a mess of your lovely suit?”

“Yes, god yes.” Sirius writhed at his words, “That’s what I w-want- oh god, Remus…”

“Say please.”

“Please!” he all but yelled, whether from impatience or sheer agony of aching want, he could hardly tell anymore.

“Very good, Lord Black.” Came the calm reply, and Sirius cried out in bliss as he was swiftly engulfed by the damp heat of Remus’ sinful mouth. It didn’t take long before Sirius was arching his hips up and coming in endless waves down Remus’ throat with a cry of pleasure. The sensation was intense and endless, and Sirius didn’t think he’d ever come so hard in his life. Finally, having sucked Sirius dry, Remus licked his lips, wiping over the edges of his mouth a single finger and keeping eye contact with Sirius as he licked every last drop of come. Sirius was still captivated as he watched Remus swallow his come and then use those same lips to kiss over his exposed chest, up his neck, and finally his lips, pressing his tongue into his mouth and swirling it over his own, letting Sirius taste himself.

“Fuck, Remus. That was amazing.”

“You were so perfect for me, Sirius.”

“You’ve ruined my suit.”

“I s’pose I’ll just have to make you a new one.”

~~~

They lay together in the afterglow, exchanging soft touches and chaste kisses. The heat of their earlier passion had subsided into a smouldering desire that kept them unwilling to disentangle their limbs despite the heat and sweat clinging to skin.

“Remus?”

“Yes, cariad?” Oh, that was new. Sirius didn’t quite mind that he had no idea what it meant, only loved the way it sounded coming from Remus’ lips in his soft-singing accent.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way. But if you’re earning that much from the suits I’ve bought, why are you still living in that poky flat above the shop?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about now?” Remus raised an eyebrow, but seemed more amused than offended by the question, “I happen to like that poky little flat, for one thing. For another… most of my income goes into upkeeping the shop, and Da’s treatments.”

“Oh.”

“Can I ask you a question now?”

“Sure.”

“Just how rich are you?” Remus' voice was clouded in suspicion, and Sirius gave a startled laugh.

“Well, a lot of it’s tied up, you know, properties, portfolios, shares. Then there’s all the family businesses.”

“Businesses? I didn’t know you worked.”

“I don’t really. I’m on the board for most of them. Some of them I’m a silent partner, some of them they wheel me out for fancy parties.”

“Any I would have heard of?”

“Yeah,” Sirius snorted. “Probably. Black Leather was our original-”

“Wait, you’re that Black?” Remus shot up, incredulous at this news. Sirius shrugged.

“Yeah?”

“I get half my materials from your company.”

“Oh, well thank you for the business.”

“Wait, you’re not just any lord, are you?”

“I’m a duke, technically.”

“But you’re… you’re Sirius Black.” Remus gaped, as if he was just now putting two and two together. Sirius wasn’t sure what the other half of the equation was, so he gave Remus a look that he hoped conveyed the stupidity of this moment.

“I don’t believe I was keeping that a secret…”

“I mean, obviously I knew your name, and I knew you were some fancy lord, but I- you’re… I thought your name sounded familiar when we met, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before…” Remus’ face grew bashful, and he looked away, which confused Sirius even more, and then it dawned on him. Of course, even in the middle-of-nowhere Welsh countryside, Remus would have heard of him. Heard of his scandal. He had hoped maybe only in vague passing. It came up less and less the further he got from it, most people had forgotten after a while and moved onto the next bit of gossip, but it had never gone away completely.

“I suppose now I’ve seduced you, it’s too late to ask you to spare me your pity?” Sirius joked bleakly, his mouth turning sour and dry. He wasn’t ready for this to end; wasn’t ready for Remus to decide he wasn’t worth the trouble. Not when they’d barely even started.

“I remember feeling sorry for you at the time.” Remus spoke so softly that it almost hurt, “Not that I knew it was you, of course. But I remember thinking, as hard as it was for me being a queer teenage boy in the middle of nowhere, I couldn’t imagine how impossible it would be with that much scrutiny, with everyone watching, with the expectations.”

Sirius felt a reluctant tear roll down his cheek as he was transported back into the memory of being seventeen and, as he believed then, in love for the first time. He turned his head to make sure Remus wouldn’t see, but felt his gentle hand reach to cup his cheek, swiping away the damp tear.

“It wasn’t so bad.” Sirius sniffed. It was a lie, though. He didn’t think it should have felt as bad as it did, often thought he was being dramatic, that he should have gotten over it by now, despite what James told him. But when his first and only boyfriend had released a tell-all to the tabloids on the Black family and all their sordid affairs, outing Sirius in the process, Sirius had been distraught. His entire family had turned against him, he’d lost any semblance of privacy, he’d earned the contempt of his peers. He had lost the one person he cared about more than anything, when Regulus’ long-term health issues had been made public along with everything else.

He remembered waking up earlier than usual that morning – he’d slept well the night before, falling asleep dreaming of his boyfriend of three months. He’d told him he loved him for the first time the day before. The house was still, but that wasn’t unusual for the Black household. He’d gone immediately to Regulus’ room, to see if he wanted to bunk off and head into London for the day. But Regulus, usually a late riser, hadn’t been there. His room was abandoned, bed perfectly made, not a thing out of place. Sirius remembered thinking that something didn’t feel right as he crept downstairs, eager to avoid running into his parents. As he tiptoed down the hall, he heard murmured voices drifting from the main parlour. This had struck him as unusual, since they rarely received guests without notice, and never so early in the morning. He poked a head round to see his mother looking livid, his father pacing with a rigid frown, and Regulus – pale-faced and mute on the sofa. Uncle Cygnus was there, clutching a newspaper, wearing a sombre expression.

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, making himself known.

“You!” His father spat the second he registered where the question had come from.

Sirius’ parents were strict, they had lofty expectations, which after many conversations with James he now knew weren’t normal; that it wasn’t normal for parents to quantify their love and dole it out like rations for good behaviour. He hurt, and talking about it with James had helped, but the pain of knowing his parents didn’t love him the way they were meant to never went away. Like he was broken, like there was something so wrong with him that even the two people who were genetically predisposed to love him couldn’t even manage that. That was why, when he’d fallen in love for the first time, he’d given everything. That was why he was being pinned to the wall by his throat as his father’s angry faced screamed at him.

Sirius didn’t know it at the time of course, he shut down and let the usual aggressions blur out around him. It was only once Cygnus had pulled his father back from the brink, and the breath returned to his lungs, that he caught up to what was happening and turned to his brother. Their parents got like this, mostly with Sirius, but they’d both experienced it enough that they would automatically turn to each other for comfort. Whenever Sirius was being told he was worthless, a waste of space, that he should be grateful to have the roof over his spoilt head, because any other family would have turned him out on the street, he turned to Regulus. Whenever he was struck to the ground by his father, whenever his mother gripped his arm with her nails so hard that it broke the skin, whenever he was confined to the dark, damp cellar for unknown periods of time until he’d thought long and hard about the disgrace he brought upon his family, he would immediately seek out comfort with his brother. Whenever he felt like collapsing under the crushing weight and anger that couldn’t find a voice, he would look into those twin grey eyes for the strength he needed to hold on a little longer for the hope that this too would pass.

But that morning he turned to Regulus and found no comfort or strength or understanding. He saw something he’d never seen from his brother, but recognised the familiar loathing and disappointment from his mother’s cold glare. As the adults fell quiet, seething with vitriolic hatred for Sirius, a small voice had floated through the tense silence to cut Sirius in the one place his family had never managed to reach until that day.

“You’ve ruined everything, Sirius.”

 Sirius didn’t remember what had happened immediately after or for the next few hours, but his brother’s expression was burned permanently into his brain. That was when Sirius had decided to end it all.

After the family had spoken to their lawyers, they had decided that the best course would be to deny everything, continue acting as normal, watch Sirius closely as they forced him to continue down his path as the family heir to avoid any suspicions that any of the allegations bore any resemblance to reality. They had even managed to discredit the photographic evidence of Sirius’ queerness, pictures of a happy young couple, laughing in each other’s arms, plastered over the front pages of national papers. Everything else was the word of two seventeen-year-old boys, one of whom never spoke up. After all, who would believe that Britain’s most powerful and influential family would do the things they’d been accused of? Who would believe that the spoilt, pampered, charming heir to that enormous fortune – a reckless rule-breaker known for gallivanting about and flaunting his wealth – had experienced anything other than everything his heart desired? That didn’t stop the rumours from churning, didn’t stop the slurs and insults hurled everywhere he turned. One day, a few weeks after the news had broken, James found Sirius in the showers in their shared dormitory at school, slumped against the walls, barely conscious. The ambulance had arrived just in time, so they told him later, he should be grateful his friend had been there. At the time, he didn’t feel grateful.

Remus listened quietly as Sirius told him all this, keeping his expression calm and blank, not a trace of emotion showing, as he exposed the truth of his deepest darkest secrets to the first person besides James in over a decade. Even Dorcas didn’t know the whole story, only what she’d managed to deduce from the rumour mill and her own knowledge of Sirius.

“Thank you for telling me Sirius.” Remus whispered after a moment’s silence, the weight of Sirius’ past settling between them while he held Sirius close. “It’s awful what they did to you. Nobody deserves to be treated like that by anyone, much less the people who are supposed to love you and care for you. And going through your first heartbreak with the entire world watching- I… I did feel sorry for you then, without knowing anything about you. But I don’t pity you now.”

“You don’t?”

“No. No, not at all. I admire you. Because if it were me, or I think anyone else... most people would never have come back from something like that. But here you are: Strong and beautiful and unapologetically you.” And Sirius couldn’t help but look up in amazement to meet Remus’ tender gaze. He felt like the boy he used to be, in the arms of this sweet, caring, and lovely person. Felt safe and warm, enveloped by someone who thought he was beautiful, who thought he was strong, who admired him for being himself and didn’t seem to think that was something to be fixed, to be hidden, or subdued. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Sirius sniffed in confusion, once he realised that it had not been himself, but Remus who had said the words.

“For giving me the chance to know you.”

Streams flowed heavy from Sirius’ eyes onto Remus’ chest. He let them flood him, let his lungs be overcome with the intensity of every emotion that had surfaced, and then it passed, leaving him quiet and still. The silence stretched out between them, but Remus never once loosened his hold, only stroked soothing lines through his hair and whispered gentle words.

“They’re not going to let us be together. If they find out.” Sirius said, in a small still voice after several more moments had passed. “And my family is powerful, they can… they can make things difficult for you, for both of us.”

“Let them try.” Was all Remus said.

“I admire you too, Remus.” Sirius said after another prolonged silence, but he couldn’t find the words for everything that Remus was to him.

“Thank you, Sirius.” Remus smiled, a warm, sincere thing that took Sirius’ breath away all over again, and they folded into each other’s arms. Sirius let the tears continue to soak Remus’ chest, while the empty space they left behind filled with relief and something that felt a bit like love.

Chapter Text

“You’ll be gone tomorrow.” Remus spoke in hushed murmurs, brushing gentle strokes through Sirius’ hair, one of Remus’ favourite things to do in the cooling afterglow, Sirius was learning. “And I’m flying back the week after.”

They had spent two weeks in a soaring high, every second some sweet nothing passing between them, evenings spent laughing with friends, followed by nights passed in sweat-soaked blurs of burning touches and frantic breaths. Two bodies wrapped up in each other until the early hours and then waking up to lazy mornings in a settled embrace, nimble fingers and reverent lips tracing patterns on skin until they’d drawn themselves a home. Even when Remus returned to work during the day, Sirius would linger through the morning, chatting with Alastor, watching Remus work, even attempting to help around here and there, though the most he could do was pile stock onto shelves in multicoloured disarray. Two weeks had passed like two days and with each passing moment a looming pulse plucked at his chest, an iron hammer striking an invisible clock counting down to their inevitable end.

“I’m going to miss this.” He murmured back, desperately burning the image of their hands knotted together over silk sheets, sealing it safe behind his eyelids. He leant back against Remus’ chest, still glistening with sweat.

“We can still see each other, Sirius. We just need to be careful.”

“Right, careful. Which means it won’t be the same. What’s the saying – when in Rome, right?” Sirius joked blandly, as if the thought of not falling asleep to gentle touches and waking up to Remus’ sleepy singing murmurs everyday didn’t wrench at his chest.

“I think you’re thinking of ‘what happens in Vegas’.” Came Remus’ steady reply.

“Oh. Yes, well same rules apply, don’t you think?” Never had Sirius wanted more for someone to contradict him. But Remus didn’t. Perhaps, Sirius thought, perhaps he was having second doubts. Perhaps, after all, Sirius wasn’t worth the trouble.

“I suppose so...” Sirius couldn’t read Remus’ tone at all, it was blank, almost cool, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t see his face.

“I won’t see you for a while, then.” barely allowing the edge of hopefulness into his voice, almost a question begging Remus to give any other answer. But again, Remus was unreadable.

“I suppose not.” Sirius was beginning to hate the word ‘suppose’ and how utterly bleak it sounded on that wonderful tongue. He could feel the dread beginning to well up, that empty hole resurging to swallow him. But let him have Italy.

Sirius flipped over, pressing Remus into the mattress, pushing past the fear, ignoring the looming threat of all of this disappearing in a matter of hours. He was too busy imprinting himself on every inch of Remus, making sure that Remus wouldn’t be able to leave this – leave him – behind.

“Sirius, Sirius wait-” Remus groaned in pleasure beneath him, but then he was pushing back, and Sirius felt the dread beginning to seep back in. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Remus’ expression when he ended things, when he told him that this was too much, that Sirius was too much. That he’d changed his mind and he didn’t want Sirius after all. “Sirius, look at me.”

Gentleness pervaded Remus’ voice, his careful hand reaching up to cup his jaw with torturous light fingers stroking Sirius’ scrunched up cheeks. His lids cracked open, peering through wincing eyes not braced for light, but for the sight in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, all kindness and concern.

“I don’t want this to end.”

“Good. Neither do I.”

“I thought…”

“Oh, sweetheart, do you think I could honestly go back to being without you after all this?”

“If- if all you wanted was a holiday fling, I’d understand. As long as we’re here it’s easy, no complications. If this is too much-”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not, Remus. But back home…”

“Back home,” Remus picked up the trail of Sirius’ fears, fixing him with concern rich in his sweet, melting gaze. “I’ll be thinking of you every minute that we’re not together. Back home, I’ll be wishing away the hours until you’re with me, back where I can hold you and kiss you.” Remus echoed his words with a gentle kiss against Sirius’ brow, his cheek, his nose. “I meant what I said.”

 “Oh.”

“Sirius, I didn’t want this because it was uncomplicated or easy. I wanted this, because I want you. Everywhere. Italy, Wales, fucking Antarctica, Sirius, I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“So you’ve said,” Remus breathed a soft chuckle, as his strained concern relaxed back into a small, dancing smile and that mirthful glint returned to his eyes.

“Christ, who knew you were such a sap.” Sirius mumbled through his breath of relief as he allowed himself to return the smile, which was met by a deep, drawn-out kiss as he sunk deeper into Remus’ hold. “Antarctica might be doable, you know.”

Remus snorted a chuckle, and Sirius couldn’t contain the grin pulling at his cheeks.

“Sirius, we’ll figure this out, you and me. But until then, we’ll just… be careful.”

“Still not going to be the same though, is it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then we best make the most of it.” He returned with a grin wider than the fear still plucking at his chest, and without warning took Remus in hand, causing the other man to shudder out a moan at the overstimulation, not quite recovered from their most recent high.

“Fuck, yes, let’s do that.” Came the rasping enthusiasm of Remus’ reply.

~~~

Sirius spent every remaining moment of their escape wrapped up in Remus, trading kisses for sweet whispering words that beckoned tender beginnings of something neither man had yet been brave enough to say out loud. Beginnings that were cut short when Sirius returned home to his wide, empty rooms, to his duties and obligations sitting untouched and frozen in the shadowed halls where he had left them, waiting to pull him back to ground from the nebulous dream that had been those fleeting weeks in Florence.

A whole week passed without Remus’ lingering looks, and gentle caresses. It was torture. Like he was going through withdrawal all over again. Sirius paced the halls, climbed every staircase in his house on repeat like a rat in a cage. He did three laps of the grounds, shot some innocent pheasants, and – to Minerva’s abject horror – read through every item of the last year’s account book twice. At the very least he was able to determine that, no, Minerva was not embezzling from the Black family fortune. This gave no relief to the throbbing itch at his throat and limbs, crawling under his ribs and up his spine.

And then at last Remus called to say he had returned safely home. Not that it changed anything. They had promised to wait. Before Sirius had left Florence, they had come up with a plan. At length they had discussed how to be together without appearing to be together, and when they had reached a comfortable compromise, Sirius had still felt like ripping the world to shreds and incinerating the scraps. They had decided that Sirius should delay his next visit to the atelier, reduce his time spent driving back and forth across the counties lest it raise any suspicion or conjure any rumours. Though he trusted Minerva, and by extension most of his staff, Walburga always seemed to have ways of finding things out without Sirius ever having told her. So, they agreed to be satisfied with calling each other every other day, to never spend the night, to stay apart as long as they could bear until they could figure out some way to be together.

Remus called at seven o’clock on a Tuesday morning to say he had landed in London and would be back in Wales that evening. Sirius lasted a whole day before he found himself, at nine o’clock the following morning without having slept a wink, storming into Lupin’s Sartorial dressed in his favourite blue linen suit – the one he had been wearing with his fingers threaded through Remus’, as they had admired the glowing lights of the city below. Or at least Remus had. Sirius’ attention had been occupied by something decidedly more beautiful.

“Sirius, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” Were the first words that spilled from lips caught in the beginnings of a wild smile. “What are you-”

“I have a complaint.”

“Oh?” The smile vanished, replaced with a look of curiosity and a raised eyebrow that sent shivers through Sirius’ body.

“This suit is damaged. The material is obviously low grade, or the workmanship shoddy.”

“Shoddy?” A steely voice challenged, daring him to say more.

“Yes, shoddy. You know, slapdash, cheap, careless. A hack-job, really. Whoever stitched this suit clearly needs to be retrained.”

“Is that so?” Sirius could see Remus getting riled up, savoured the rush of red to his cheeks, the dangerous flash in his eyes. They both knew what Sirius was doing, but he couldn’t resist provoking Remus, not with the way he was already biting his lip to hold himself back.

“Indeed, in fact, I would like to make an official complaint to the shop’s manager.”

“You’re talking to him.”

“Perfect. Please take note.” Sirius forced himself to maintain his haughty façade, projecting his best Lord Black, though his pulse raced at the defiance sparking in brown eyes. He stepped closer as he spoke. “The material is scratchy, the seams catch around the arms, and the top three buttons of the shirt simply fell off of their own accord.” Remus’ breath hitched and his gaze lingered on Sirius’ fingers trailing down his exposed chest to demonstrate the missing buttons, as he closed in on where Remus had been standing this whole time. “Not to mention the fit around the legs is simply too tight, and as a result, I have been compelled to forego any form of undergarment.”

“I suppose, with it being so uncomfortable for you, you’ll be wanting to have it removed immediately.” Remus said in a low voice that Sirius had to strain to hear, though there was now barely a foot between them.

“I could not stand to wear it a second longer.” Sirius drew closer still.

“I shall of course be happy to assist in rectifying this issue however I can.” Came Remus’ distracted response as he seized forwards to pull Sirius into a desperate kiss. Remus’ hands tugged at Sirius, pulling him in awkward stumbles moving around hungry kisses towards the back of the shop, until they were behind the old wooden door, hidden from view of the empty street. Separating their mouths with breathless pants, Remus intertwined their fingers, pure seduction as he looked through his lashes at Sirius pulling him up the narrow staircase and into his crowded flat.

They were barely through the door before Remus had Sirius pressed back against his kitchen sink, bracing a hand behind Sirius’ head to stop it crashing into the low cabinets behind, even as he pushed forward, pressing his thigh between Sirius’ legs. Sirius moaned loudly at the added pressure. He had gone longer without sex, but a week without Remus and he already felt ready to burst from the few rough kisses they’d shared, rutting his fast-filling cock against Remus’ leg through the thin fabric.

“Fuck, Sirius, already so hard for me.”

“Always for you, Remus.”

“Fuck…” Remus groaned, practically pulling Sirius onto him. Sirius grinded against the thigh wedged between his own, chasing the friction of the tumbling fabric between his leg, and then-

“Oh fuck, Remus, wait- Orange, orange.”

“What is it, love? What do you need?” Remus backed away instantly, leaving the space between, though Sirius still clutched his waist to stop him going too far out of reach, panting a little breathless into the pause.

“Was about to come.” Sirius muttered, his face – already flushed from their activity – now burning.

“Fuck, okay.” Remus’ eyes shot wide at the suggestion, but he made no move back towards him, only spoke with a calming voice, “You didn’t want to?”

“Not… I do, but not yet. Not in my suit.”

“Okay, thank you for telling me. Do you want to stop for a bit?”

“Just for a second. Then I think I’m good.”

“We don’t have to do anything-”

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence, Lupin.”

“Alright,” Remus let out a low, breathy laugh, licking his lip between his teeth and asked, “so everything else was okay?”

“Yeah… ‘sgood. Don’t want to ruin this suit, though.”

“Of course, darling. Let’s get you undressed then, shall we?” It was the curling heat in his quiet tone that did it. Sirius couldn’t wait anymore.

“Fuck, Remus. Yes please.” And he surged forwards, crashing their lips together again, letting Remus pull him straight through to the bedroom, where he was carelessly tossed onto the bed. Sirius began to unbutton his shirt, but Remus bent down closing a hand over Sirius’ fumbling fingers and trapping them against his chest.

“Let me help you with that, Lord Black.” Remus whispered, his voice beseeching like a form of worship, and Sirius shuddered at the way Remus hovered there, simply pleading into his eyes.

Remus knelt beside the bed, lavishing careful minutes over first untying Sirius’ shoes, discarding them with his socks over his shoulder. He urged Sirius to lean up slightly as he pulled the perfectly fitted jacket off of his shoulders, then tantalisingly slow, undid every button of his shirt one by one, following each with a kiss lower and lower on his front, until every inch of his bare torso was exposed. On the last button he lingered, pressing a branding kiss to Sirius’ abdomen, which quivered under the attention. Reaching back up to loosen the shirt, Remus let it fall open beneath Sirius like a canvas. Then he started on his belt and zipper, a ragged groan bursting from freshly licked lips when he saw that Sirius – true to his word – was completely bare underneath that neatly stitched suit, and already throbbing with want.

“Funny. For someone so worried about ruining this suit, you didn’t try very hard not to.”

Sirius blushed. It was his favourite suit after all, but the idea of turning up in Remus’ shop, bare against his suit had been too tempting, had him hard on the drive over merely thinking about how Remus would be able to make out the line of his arousal under the thin material.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Wanted you to have easy access.” He repeated louder, once he realised he’d said anything at all and watched as Remus’ gaze flickered into darkened want.

“You’re so fucking considerate, darling.” He grinded out, lavishing a long, syrupy kiss into Sirius’ mouth, rolling their tongues together with a soft moan that hit the back of Sirius’ throat. “So good for me, Lord Black.”

Sirius watched in rapture as Remus’ talented fingers danced over his body, undressing him, until he was exposed and flushed under Remus’ wanting gaze. Remus stood over him, still fully dressed, eyes raking up and down his body over and over, as though he could never be satisfied, never have enough of simply looking at Sirius.

“You’re so beautiful.” Remus murmured, eyes dark and lips parted in want, “God, I missed you.”

“How do you want me?” Sirius ventured, emboldened by the hungry look in Remus’ eyes, the daylight filtering through blue waves of the curtains, sweeping up a fuzzing border of hazy air around Remus in a glow of warmth. He began trailing a hand over his chest, allowing himself a soft moan as he lingered over his own nipples, tugging and twisting, before continuing to drag his fingers down his own belly towards his kicking erection that was desperate for any touch. Remus swallowed deeply at Sirius’ question, eyes tracking the movements of his hands, and Sirius could almost make out the possibilities flickering across mahogany in flashes of desire. Remus stayed quiet, but his top teeth poked out to bite down on the reddened flesh of his bottom lip.

“Everywhere.” He rasped out, finally. “Anywhere.”

“Maybe I should choose for once?” Remus’ eyebrows raised sharply, a tongue flickering out to wet his lips.

“What did you have in mind.” Sirius rose from the bed and pushed Remus, still clothed, to sit on the edge, before straddling him, kneeling with his legs either side of Remus and pressed the already damp tip of his cock into Remus’ shirt. He wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck, sinking his fingers into gold-brown locks of hair, as Remus’ own hands found their way around Sirius’ waist, tugging him in closer. Then Sirius craned down, lowering his lips to press against Remus’ ear.

He whispered in slow, spaced-out words, letting his lips graze against Remus, “I want to ride you.”

“Fucking hell, Sirius.” Came the ragged-breath response, practically pulling at Sirius’ back in a feeble attempt to grant Sirius his wish.

“Is that a yes then?” He grinned, knowing full-well how cocky he looked, hovering over Remus, a smug smile stretched between his cheeks.

“Fuck yes. Want me to prep you like this?”

“M’already. Been stretching myself all week.”

“Sirius… fuck.”

“Been keeping myself ready for when you got back. Missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, darling. So sweet, so fucking good for me.”

“Fuck, Remus. Say that again.”

“So fucking good, fucking perfect,” Remus bit out in a slight growl, and Sirius moaned rutting forward at the words. “You like that? Like hearing how good you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, fuck Remus, let me show you.”

“Please, darling, be my guest.”

And Sirius ground down into Remus lap rubbing over where he could already feel Remus swelling beneath him, letting rough hands roam as he rocked against him, the hardening outline of Remus’ cock nestled between the cleft of his arse.

“Fuck, Sirius,” Remus stilled his movements, pulling him back up over his lap, “want to be inside you. Can you be good and stay still while I get myself all nice and ready for you, darling?”

Sirius didn’t move, continued hovering even when his thighs began to ache, as Remus fumbled beneath him, reaching between Sirius’ legs to unzip his own trousers, clutching onto Sirius’ back as he leaned over and plucked a condom from the dresser to slide over his own hard cock. He pulled Sirius in closer so that he could reach behind Sirius for better access, so that Sirius’ whole length was pressing against Remus’ abdomen. As Remus worked himself and Sirius’ hole over with lubricant, Sirius rutted helplessly into the friction of Remus’ shirt, leaving faded trails of precome.

“No problem ruining other people’s clothes I see.” Remus teased, as he thrust two fingers into Sirius, evidently wanting to make sure Sirius was as ready as he claimed to be, only causing Sirius to buck into Remus, moaning at the pressure.

“Fuck, let me please.” He growled, “Want to come all over you.”

“Yeah?”

“Want to ride you like this, and then come on your nice clean clothes with you all the way inside me.”

“Fuck, okay, sweetheart, whatever you want.” He rushed out the words, and Sirius couldn’t help but shout in pleasure as Remus pulled him roughly down onto his carefully position cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one movement. Sirius sat there for a moment, adjusting to the new pressure. Despite having spent the week teasing himself open to the thought of Remus every night, it was still a stretch accommodating his fully hard cock, still that slight intoxicating burn, even with the lubrication. Remus was holding him steady as Sirius wriggled, seating himself fully into Remus’ lap, the rough fabric of his trousers grazing uncomfortably against his bum, but he savoured all the textures and sensations: Remus filling him up, his own cockhead brushing against Remus’ smooth shirt, cool strands of hair between his fingers where he’d gripped harder at the sudden intrusion, and the only sounds – heavy breaths and rushing pulses meeting between them.

“You okay, Sirius?”

“M’good. God, you feel good, Remus.”

“You need a moment?”

“N-no, I’m ready.” Sirius shuddered, stuttering as Remus ran his hand up and down Sirius’ back, tickling at his spine.

“Thought you wanted to ride me, Lord Black?”

“Fuck, I do.” He raised himself a little in a half-hearted effort. He knew what to do, but the idea of losing even an inch of the fullness inside him was almost unbearable.

“Go on, then. Show me how good you are.” And Sirius wanted to, so badly. Releasing Remus’ hair so he could brace himself on Remus’ shoulders, Sirius looked deeply into intoxicating swirls of brown. He raised himself, slowly at first, the burn and stretch still a little raw, and then eased back down, tasting Remus’ shuddering breath as he did so. He moved slow, and purposeful, watching Remus’ carefully controlled expression begin to crumple, watching his smirk unwind and the dangerous glint in his eyes melt into something desperate, as he lifted his hips over Remus’ lap, his own neglected cock nudging barely-there friction against Remus with each movement. Remus’ steady hands held his waist, but did nothing to help his movements, letting Sirius set the pace, letting Sirius work for his promise.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?” Remus spilled out, barely more than a whisper, as Sirius rose again, pulling himself up until he felt Remus’ tip catch against the tight ring of muscle, and then he pushed all the way back down in one swift motion, knocking the breath from Remus.

“Tell me again, Remus.”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” He gasped, and Sirius rocked up again, increasing his pace a little, only rising partially before he slammed back down into Remus’ lap. Remus moaned loudly, but he kept his careful control, still refusing to move, refusing to meet Sirius’ thrusts, though he was clearly desperate for more. “So good for me, Lord Black.”

And that might have been what did it, because Sirius began riding Remus in earnest, in fast, jerky movements over Remus’ lap, pushing himself up on Remus’ shoulders, before impaling himself on Remus’ hard cock beneath him, barely aware of his own throbbing cock with the overwhelming sensation of Remus, thick and hot inside him. It was clumsy and rough, not quite hitting where Sirius needed to, but Remus didn’t try to help, just let Sirius spear himself on his cock again and again, panting and moaning into Remus’ own, straggled breaths.

“Fuck, Remus, I’m going to- I’m-”

“Come whenever you like Sirius, but you’re not stopping until I’m done.” And with a cruel smirk he raised his hands to Sirius’ chest, without warning pinching hard at his raised nipples.

“Oh fuck!” Sirius cried, slamming his hips down again and coming untouched all over Remus’ clothes. Remus grinned wickedly through his own uneven panting. He ran his palm over Sirius’ cock, sending jolts of overstimulation down his spine as he scooped up the come between his fingers, pressing them into Sirius’ mouth. Sirius readily sucked them into his mouth with a moan, licking at his own salty taste on Remus’ skin.

“Oh dear, Lord Black. That was fast, I’m afraid you’re not going to like this next bit as much.” And then Remus finally took hold of Sirius’ hips, and lifted him up over his cock, before pulling him down again, this time thrusting his own hips up in time to meet him, overwhelming Sirius, still far too sensitive, with the stimulation as he hit the pleasing spark of knotted nerves.

“Fuck, Remus,” Sirius moaned.

“Colour?”

“Green, fucking green. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Remus,” Sirius was wriggling and writhing as Remus pulled him down again and again, thrusting relentlessly until Sirius’ cock was gallantly fighting for arousal again faster than he’d thought himself capable of. Remus was panting heavily, even as Sirius regained some strength and began riding again in earnest, splitting himself over Remus’ heavy cock.

“Think you can come again for me, darling?”

“Not yet, I can’t-”

“What do you need?” Remus gasped, his thrusts never relenting, filling Sirius again and again with his cock.

“Need you to touch me.”

“Anything you want, darling.” And Remus grabbed hold of him unceremoniously, Sirius having told him enough times by now that he loved the slightly rougher grip when he was like this, coming down from one high and still chasing the next. He could feel Remus throbbing inside him, knew that he was close, and managed to slow himself down enough just to help keep Remus on edge of that control that Sirius couldn’t fathom, until he was back at the edge, keening into Remus’ hand and rocking himself back onto Remus’ cock.

“I’m- I’m-”

“Fuck, Sirius, me too, fuck-” and then Sirius was coming again on Remus’ already ruined shirt, as his overstimulated hole clenched over Remus’ pulsing cock, wrenching his orgasm from him with a heavy groan.

“Fuck Sirius, so fucking perfect,” Remus seemed to babble incoherently, pressing a sweat-cladded brow against Sirius’ shoulder, his softening cock still buried inside Sirius, unable to slip out with how tightly Sirius was clinging to his lap. They stayed like that for a while, until Sirius couldn’t tell how long had passed, and then Remus drew his head back, smiling up into Sirius’ eyes. He leant their foreheads together, still a little breathless from the exertion.

“Fucking amazing, sweetheart.” Remus sighed.

“Not bad yourself, love.” Sirius dipped to nip at Remus’ lip, before being captured into a full, hungry open-mouth kiss, Remus humming contentedly between his lips.

“Good to know that works just as well here as in Italy.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Good to know,” he agreed, and pressed in for another devouring kiss.

~~~

Freshly showered and swaddled in one of Remus’ oversized jumpers and too-long trousers, Sirius sat at the work bench beside Remus in his shop. Watching Remus’ fingers dance over the fabric, fastening careful stitches as quick as the blink of an eye in perfect lines forming invisible seams where rows of chalk and tacking had been only moments before, Sirius was as in awe of him as ever. No matter how many times he sat and watched Remus transform scraps of fabric into elegant pieces of art that fit perfectly with his body, Sirius was entirely mesmerised by what he could only describe as magic.

“Why are you so good at everything?” Sirius’ voice came out in a moan, not dissimilar to the one he had uttered earlier under those same fingers working skilfully at his own body.

“We’re talking about tailoring now, right?” Remus muttered with his eyes still fixed on their careful work, a smirk appearing on the corner of his lips that he’d been biting in concentration.

“Just everything.”

“I am not good at everything. I’ve put a lot of time into practicing the things I care about.”

“I’m going to pretend that only applies to tailoring.” Sirius saw Remus’ smirk grow into a full-fledged grin at his cheeks and could picture his sly expression even though Remus was hunched over his work.

“Yes cariad, I was a pure, untouched virgin before you came along and ruined me for everyone else.”

“Glad to hear it.” Sirius grumbled, struggling to ignore the rising hot liquid in his stomach at the thought of Remus being with anyone but him, even though Sirius had no leg to defend himself from the hypocrisy of the thought.

“Besides, I’m sure there are plenty things you’re skilled at- besides that.” He interrupted before Sirius had even opened his mouth for the ready quip.

Sirius snorted, “I don’t think I’ve ever cared enough to put the effort in.”

“There must be something that matters to you, something important.”

“Well, there’s you.” Remus blushed, and his smile softened, but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge the tender confession.

“Aside from me.” He huffed, “There must be something you’ve enjoyed doing.”

Sirius snorted again, feeling a little bitter trickle rising in his throat. There were things he enjoyed, even beyond ravishing and being ravished by Remus. Creating chaos with James, testing every boundary placed in front of him, being so resolutely himself until his mother turned a violent shade of puce. But these were not skills, not things that required the dedication Remus showed to tailoring and all other aspects of his hard-earned life. The more Remus tried to console him, the more inept he felt. Remus, unaware of the man souring beside him, continued to focus on his work, his smile slipping back into a concentrated frown. It was the thing he loved most about Remus, but that didn’t stop the creeping sense of inadequacy it provoked in himself.

“Remus, what if I just don’t care about anything?”

Remus paused his fluid movements, put down the material and turned to Sirius, their knees knocking where they sat. He took hold of Sirius’ hands in his own and fixed him with a hard, almost exasperated, glare.

“I don’t believe that’s true for a second.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because I can feel it. I can feel it in the way you care about me. In the way you care about your friends. Sirius, you are capable of so much, and I don’t think you’ve got this far because you don’t care or you can’t be bothered. I think everyone’s been telling you that you’ve got it easy, that you’ve been given a leg up, that you were born with a silver spoon. And sure, that may be true. But nobody knows the hell you’ve struggled through to get here. No one but you.”

“You make me sound like I’ve fought in a war.”

“No. No, maybe not. But we all have our own little wars. And we all need help to win them. You’ve been fighting by yourself for so long, Sirius. It’s okay to ask for help from time to time.”

He gave another final, stern look, and Sirius nodded, a little bashful under Remus’ hard gaze. Content, Remus returned to his work, pulling out the sewing machine to finish the trousers seams.

“Remus?”

“Yes, Sirius?” Remus’ impatience was nevertheless laced with an exasperated fondness.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, cariad.”

He returned to sitting in silence while Remus resumed his work, his mind whirring. It was one of the few times Sirius was happy to sit still, with the juddering clacking of the machine drilling away in the background as Sirius’ thoughts churned. He had never wanted to try before, but when Remus believed that he could, it almost made him believe too. But then, the problem was, what exactly was Lord Black supposed to care about? He didn’t give a toss about money or power or status. Perhaps that was easy for him to say since he had them already, but that didn’t make it less true.

~~~

“I’m trying.”

“Trying what?” Dorcas asked, her bored voice drawn out in lazy syllables. They sat together in Dorcas’ garden, the overcast April wrapping around them. The weather had been damp and drizzling since Sirius had returned, as if to make absolutely certain he knew he was no longer in Florence. Dorcas was stretched out on a lounger, despite the grey weather, admiring the emerald-studded gold ring Sirius had brought her back from Italy. Sirius, perched in front of her, looking out at the expansive lawn behind him, a little untamed and dotted with flowerbeds, all culminating in a rough-patched vegetable garden at the furthest corner, maintained by the Meadowes’ head gardener under the Marquess’ own careful supervision. It seemed like everyone had something they were passionate about, except Sirius. Even Dorcas, as laidback and careless as she seemed to live her life, had her own simmering passion that unfurled itself with the right prompting. She kept it close to her chest, but anyone who knew Dorcas well knew that her cool front was merely a lifetime of schooling her own fiery demeanour into the aristocratic suit of civility. She wore her mask the same as Sirius, only somewhere along the way Sirius’ external aloofness had grown all the way inwards, hollowing him out.

“I’m trying to care.”

“Okay…”

“But I don’t know what I care about.”

“Sirius, I don’t have a clue what you’re on about.”

“I want to be good at something.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know yet, something I care about.”

“That does usually help…”

“But the problem is I don’t think I care about much.”

“Much?”

“Well, there’s Remus, of course.” Sirius had already caught Dorcas up to speed with recent developments and hadn’t been too put out when Dorcas didn’t seem in the least surprised. “And you and James… and Regulus. When he’s not being a right prat, I mean.”

“You care about people.” Dorcas supplied, her voice casual though he could tell she was watching him with caution.

“Only certain people. Very few, actually. And that’s not anything I can turn into a skill of any description.”

“Why does it have to be a skill?”

“What?”

“You’re looking at this very rigidly.”

“Come again?” Dorcas rolled her eyes, as if it were obvious.

“Sirius, listen. People’s strengths come in all shapes and sizes. You don’t have to be good with your hands, or know lots of things, or be able to run marathons to be good at things. Skills aren’t the only things that matter.”

“I… don’t follow.”

“Look at what you’ve already got, Sirius. You’ve got money, you’ve got wealth, you’ve got influence-”

“I know, I know. I’ve been given every opportunity in life, and I’ve wasted it all.”

“Are you dying?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you dying?”

“No, but-”

“Are you lying in a ditch somewhere unconscious?”

“Dorcas-”

“Answer me.”

“No, obviously not.”

“Are you serving a life-sentence, or sitting on death row?”

“No.”

“Then you have not wasted anything. Not yet. You have a life, Sirius, so live it. And what’s more, you’re lucky enough to have the means and time to do what you want with it. Even if you didn’t, if it matters enough, you’ll find a way. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, find out what you care about, and then work at it little by little.”

“But that’s just it, Dorcas. I don’t know what I care about.”

“You care about people.”

“I don’t get-”

“Sweetie, don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt your brain. You’re more than your money, and you’re more than your name, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use both those things for good. Figure out what that means to you and then do it.”

“I don’t know how!” Sirius cried, flinging his arms up exasperated. Dorcas remained unmoved, glancing over at his gesture only briefly before turning her head back towards the sky with a shrug.

“You’re already doing it. Trust me, Sirius, you’re getting there. Be patient and don’t expect the world in a day. Try a little more each time, and let the people who care about you help you. Maybe one day you’ll wake up and find yourself with the world at your feet.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not. Trust me, it’s not. But it’s what we do, Sirius. We take what we’re given and we do what we can. And by some dumb luck, we’ve been given more than most. Are we done here? Or do you need more coddling?”

“We’re done. But I’m telling James you called me stupid.”

“Fine. Now, tell me more about this new athlete friend of yours.”

“She’s coming to London this year for a game.” Sirius grinned.

“I’ve never been one for public sporting events.” The corner of Dorcas’ mouth twitched down in a grimace, “but I suppose I could make an exception.”

“Trust me, you’re going to love her.”

~~~

“Where are we going?” Sirius called after Remus, struggling to keep up with him as he strode through the village without a second thought or a glance back. After they had completed Sirius' final fitting for his upcoming red-carpet event, Remus had promptly announced that he was closing shop for the day despite it being barely ten in the morning. Sirius had, mistakenly as it turned out, thought they might have been venturing upstairs to Remus’ room for some time alone, but then Remus had marched out the front door jerking his head for Sirius to follow.

It struck Sirius then that these were the streets on which Remus had grown up, and he imagined the young sandy-haired boy from Alastor’s album, jumping over fences, ducking behind the houses and running down the narrow lanes, smiling and laughing. Sirius didn’t know if that was what Remus had been like. Perhaps, instead he’d found a grassy verge beyond the reach of rules and the monotony of the quiet village, reading all manner of books to escape into a fantasy far from the endless hills and hedgerows. Regardless, something warmed in Sirius watching the familiar way with which Remus instinctively ducked beneath the slightly too low arch of a narrow passage and hopped over a fence (opening it on the other side for Sirius to walk through) into a wide-open field leading away from the village.

“Where are we going, Remus?” Sirius called again after he received no answer, barely keeping the whine out of his voice after nearly half an hour of walking and the village dwindling out of sight behind them as they started down yet another country track. Sirius tried not to wince at the mud squelching beneath his neatly polished leather boots and licking at the hems of his trousers.

“You’ll see. Not much further, if you can manage.” Remus sniggered, noticing Sirius’ poor attempt to dodge the pervasive pools of mud. “Or do you need me to carry you, Lord Black?” Sirius snorted, and ignored the way his cheeks warmed at the idea of Remus hoisting him into his arms.

They came to the end of the lane, to Sirius relief, and found themselves at the base of a steep slope sprinkled with a few small houses. Sirius regarded it with scepticism, but catching sight of Remus’ amused expression, he straightened his back, turned up his chin, and strode purposefully up the hill. Thankfully he wasn’t too out of breath when they reached the top, if a little warm and flustered, and only very narrowly avoided falling on a slip of mud.

“Here we are.” Remus said finally, as they approached a small, thatched cottage sitting on the slope. It was fronted by an ailing wooden fence that lead to a garden overgrown with wildflowers and weeds. It was nothing like the polished gardens at Grimmauld House, or even Godric Hall, instead a vibrant splash of bluebells, sweet violets and late-blooming daffodils.

“Whose house is this?” Sirius asked, and was answered thereafter by the door swinging open and a beaming middle-aged woman greeting Remus with open arms. Remus, looking like a flustered schoolboy, begrudgingly allowed himself to be wrapped up in a hug, as he was assaulted by a litany of reproaches and praises. The woman, who was small, yet had a foreboding rigour that seemed to grant her a more imposing stature, disappeared beneath Remus’ tall frame. Sirius could just make out, peeking out from beneath his embrace, greying flecks peppered in fly-away curls that refused to sit still in a loose bun. The hem of her trousers – dungarees that she had evidently been wearing to tend to the back garden – was caked in pollen and mud, and her hands were coated in soil that now marked the back of Remus’ spotless grey waistcoat as she finally released him from her grasp.

Then she cast her stern glance accusingly at Remus, who despite being nearly twice her size, seemed to shrink under her gaze. After a moment’s pause, she batted his arm in an affectionate rebuke, “and what time do you call this, now then? I must have called you over two hours ago.”

“I came as soon as I could,” Remus protested, still laughing in the chaos of the bombardment of affection and the immediately subsequent scolding. “Told you this morning. Had a customer, didn’t I?” and he indicated meekly over her shoulder, where her back was now turned to Sirius having trading positions in the brutal onslaught of her affection, so that Remus was now closer to the door of the small cottage.

“And who’s this fine young man?” The woman turned with a stern, raised eyebrow, over to where Sirius was rooted, dumbfounded by the overwhelming display of affection and the ginormous presence of this small woman.

“This is Lord Sirius Black. He’s a customer, a friend really,” Remus spoke carefully, but the teasing glimmer never left as he caught Sirius’ eye over the woman’s shoulder, “I hope you don’t mind, he travelled quite far to see me this morning, so I invited him along.”

“Oh did he now?” She spoke in calm, lilting tones, her accent coming out much thicker than Remus’ anglicised one. The woman cast an appraising eye over Sirius, who felt his imposing façade, usually reserved for strangers, crumble all too ineffectually the second he was faced with the woman’s discerning gaze. “Well, let’s have a good look at him then.” And she beckoned him closer, with Remus laughing quietly behind her, apparently enjoying Sirius’ perplexed discomfort.

“Just Sirius, ma’am.” Sirius may be out of his element, but nothing could make him forget his manners, “Apologies, I didn’t know I’d be meeting anyone today, otherwise I would have been more… suitable.” He cast a downward glance over his Versace jeans, now lightly splattered with mud.

“Don’t be daft. Bring yourself down here now.” And she pulled him into a vicelike grip, forcing him to bend over almost double to accommodate her reaching arms. “Not above a cwtch now then, is he Remus?”

“Far from it, can’t get enough.” Sirius craned his neck up from his stooped position where he was still trapped, just in time to catch Remus’ wink. Sirius shot an uncertain grimace towards him, to which Remus’ grin only widened.

“Come on then now, get yourselves in here. Remus be a dear and put the kettle on while I get myself cleaned up. Can’t have your guest thinking this is how I look all the time now.”

“But you do.” Remus pointed out, earning another light smack, which he leniently bent down to accommodate, as the woman steered him into the cottage. Stooping behind them, Sirius followed inside beneath low timbered ceilings and a scattered mishmash of furniture, finding himself immediately in the woman’s living room. She promptly disappeared up the stairs, and Remus vanished into a further room that must have been the kitchen, leaving Sirius alone. He glanced nervously about the room, not entirely sure what to do with himself in the unfamiliar surroundings. In this middle-of-nowhere place, finding himself abandoned by his hosts, Sirius shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, and busied himself admiring the furnishings. Pressed wildflowers and plants hung in frames on nearly every wall, and the small furnishings, which were clearly all selected to suit the lady of the house’s height, were covered in an array of multi-coloured hand-knitted quilts and hand-stitched cushions. Among them, one caught Sirius’ eye: a simple blue silk cushion embroidered with swirling purple beads. Sirius recognised the delicate stitches immediately and brushed a light hand over the cushion thinking of the skilled fingers that had made it. He wasn’t quite quick enough retracting his hand, as Remus returned with two mugs of tea in his hand, setting one on the table – Sirius supposed for the woman – and handing the other over to Sirius. Remus caught his eye with a knowing glint.

“She has good taste,” Sirius mumbled.

“Thought you two might get along.” Remus answered with that same sly smirk.

“Who exactly is she?” Sirius asked, still keeping his voice low, but apparently whoever she was, she had exceptional hearing.

“Oh, where are my manners now then?” She chided herself popping her head over the edge of the stairs, somehow hearing Sirius’ question from up there, “I’m Poppy, I’ve known Remus here before he was even a babi.”

“Dr Pomfrey looks after Da.” Remus explained, after he disappeared and re-emerged again with his own cup of tea.

“How many times have I told you, Remus. You’re old enough to call me by my first name. I’ve not been your doctor for near a decade now.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr Pomfrey.” Sirius smiled at the clear affection between the two of them. They crowded into the seats that were just a little bit of a squeeze even for Sirius, let alone Remus who looked more than a little comical folded into his knees as he hunched over a little slipper chair by the fireplace. Though no sooner had he sat down, than Dr Pomfrey was chasing him back to his feet.

“Now you get yourself up there and say hello to your Da. He’s been asking after you all morning, hasn’t he now?” Dr Pomfrey chided, seizing the half-drunk cup of tea from Remus’ grasp and batting him up and over to the stairs, calling after him, “And I don’t care if he’s asleep, you wake him up. Doctor’s orders.” Remus huffed an amused laugh as he bounded up the rickety stairs and out of sight.

“I thought Remus’ dad was in a home?” Sirius asked, when Dr Pomfrey sat down again with her own cup of tea in hand, Remus’ left unattended on a side-table where he’d been sitting.

“Oh, is that what he’s saying, now then? Well, this may not be a fancy home, but it’s mine.” Dr Pomfrey glanced up the stairs and lowered her voice minutely, “He probably doesn’t want to make too much of a fuss, but that boy has been working himself to the bone the last ten years, insists on paying for his Da’s treatments and everything else you could think of. He’d probably pay rent if I let him, but he’s done enough now, hasn’t he. Already sold their old home to look after his Da, and now he’s living like a vagabond up in that shop of his, nevermind how many times I’ve told him he should just come live here with us.” And then Sirius thought about the tiny flat in which Remus resided, realising only now that it would have been far too small to accommodate Remus and his father, even when Remus must have been a small child. He hadn’t spared a thought for Remus’ childhood home, what it must’ve been like, what he must have given up looking after his dad, besides his position at university and any other future besides tailoring.

“Why doesn’t he?” Sirius asked, unable to stop his curiosity, and then receded a little bashfully into the chair, but Dr Pomfrey just gave him a knowing look.

“Oh some nonsense about being close to the shop, as if he doesn’t spend enough time there already. Remus thinks I don’t know, but he’s been up all hours at the beck and call of others near on a decade- no offense meant, Mr Black, I’m sure you’re a very considerate customer and Remus here has obviously taken a liking to you.” Sirius couldn’t help blushing and didn’t mention all the impositions he had made on Remus’ time in the months since he had first come to his shop. “He won’t be convinced though, stubborn mule, just like his father. I hate to think of him all alone in that shop all hours, but it’s good to know he’s got good people like you looking out for him.”

And Sirius was a little dumbfounded at that. “Remus is the one looking out for me. I don’t think he even realises how much.” Dr Pomfrey broke into a broad smile, her eyes crinkling with fondness.

“That’s our little moon, such a dear. Always doing things for others and never looking after himself properly. I doubt if he even eats proper when he’s by himself. And I’m sure that flat of his is a right mess, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“You have no idea," Sirius chuckled. "Sorry, little moon?”

“Oh, bless him. We used to call him our little moon, always waxing and waning. One day he’d be a little rocket of mischief, the next day so quiet you’d barely know he was there. It didn’t help that his health was very touch and go for a while. Got that from his mother, poor thing. She was such a strong woman, but her body wasn’t no good for her, now then was it. Remus, thank the lord, has grown up into a proper strong lad.”

Dr Pomfrey gave another fond smile, and the conversation moved away from Remus and his father onto other topics, as she demanded that Sirius tell her all about himself. Sirius attempted to explain what he actually did, while avoiding revealing that it wasn’t really very much at all, and regaled her of the political intrigues which seemed to capture her curiosity. In turn, Sirius made polite conversation asking Dr Pomfrey about her gardens and her career. Soon polite enquiry turned into curious lines of questioning, as Sirius discovered she was a fascinating woman who had lived an extensive life, serving first as an overseas medic for the army for several years in her twenties before returning to her rural home to work as the local GP. That was how she had met the Lupins. She had, as it turned out, cared for Remus’ mother before Remus was even born, continued to care for Remus when he was a young boy catching every illness under the sun (so she told it) so much that he was in and out of her practice every other week. She’d left her clinic to care for his father too when he’d fallen ill just under a decade ago. She reminisced about her adventures, about the things – both beautiful and horrifying – that she’d seen. About growing up in the village, about how she had almost specialised in botany, and still kept journals of all species of plants she’d encountered on her tours overseas. Sirius listened with quiet interest, continuing to prompt her with questions every now and then, but Dr Pomfrey was happy to talk and didn’t need much solicitation.

More than an hour had passed by the time Remus re-emerged downstairs where Sirius and Dr Pomfrey were hunched together over an old album of pressed wildflowers, while she explained the particular qualities of each.

“Glad to see you two getting along so well,” Remus gave a wide smile, looking between the two who looked very much like they’d been caught in a conspiracy.

“You’ve got a good one, your boy here,” Dr Pomfrey returned her own broad grin with an approving nod towards Sirius, who was busy watching the blush rise up onto Remus’ cheeks at the remark.

“Poppy, please…”

“Yes, yes, forgive me insinuating anything improper Remus,” and Sirius noted a familiar mocking tone that he was used to hearing in Remus’ own voice. “I know you think it’s a scandal that your father or I might be aware of what you get up to in that shop of yours.”

“I don’t get up to anything!” Remus clamoured in protest, turning crimson at the suggestion that Sirius knew to be at least partly accurate.

“It is a shame though, if I were twenty years younger…” Poppy mused, and Sirius couldn’t help barking a laugh in surprise, and Poppy cast him a conspiratorial wink.

“Poppy!” Remus exclaimed, utterly scandalised.

“Well it’s just that you bring all of these attractive friends home and not one of them seems to be good enough for you,” Poppy chided.

“He does, does he?” Sirius grinned, turning back to Remus whose face had only turned a deeper shade.

“For the last time, Poppy,” Remus groaned, rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to hide some of the agonising embarrassment, “Lily and I are friends. You know I’m not interested in women.”

“Well then what’s your excuse this time?”

“Poppy…” Remus groaned louder, and both Poppy and Sirius shared a laugh, reducing him to muttering grumbled streams of Welsh.

“Language, Remus.”

“Sorry Dr Pomfrey,” he groused, still pink to the ears, “Now if you’re both quite done tormenting me…” Remus turned irritably towards Sirius who was still grinning, and then became a little hesitant as he continued, “Uh, I… Well, I was wondering if you’d like to pop up and say hi to Da? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Only, I may have mentioned you a couple of times and I might’ve told him you were here, so now he’s got it into his head that he has to meet you himself. I told him you probably didn’t want to spend your time talking to a daft old codger-”

“Of course I want to meet your dad, Remus.” Sirius interrupted with a shy smile, and their eyes connected for a moment, as Remus shot him a grateful smile in return.

“That’s lovely then,” and Dr Pomfrey was back on her feet bustling around in an instant, “you two pop upstairs, and I’ll get some lunch ready for us all.”

Everything in the house seemed just a little too small for Remus, but he moved with ease taking the creaking wooden steps two at a time and lithely ducking beneath the low-pitched beams into a room to the right of the narrow landing at the top of the stairs. Sirius followed him into the small room, with barely enough space for a bed, a dresser, and a small stool beside the bed, where Remus had obviously been sitting just moments before. And wedged among the furnishings, the oxygen tank, the tubes and the mask over the old man’s mouth as he dozed. Now Remus stood over by the drape-covered window, stooping under a low beam, and nodded for Sirius to take a seat.

“Da, this is Sirius.” The older man, in his sixties by the looks of things, was sitting up against the padded headboard, surrounded by flowery sheets that seemed entirely incongruous with the sombre mood of the room. Mr Lupin’s eyes had been shut, but he had apparently not been sleeping as he opened his eyes in silence and spent a long minute simply staring at the new arrival, with surprisingly startling blue eyes, nothing like the warming welcome of Remus’ brown ones, but Sirius recognised a familiar kindness in them. Sitting on the stool, he waited for the agonising minute to pass, and then Remus’ father simply nodded, apparently content that this was, in fact, Sirius. Then he lifted the mask, revealing the pallid ashen tone of his grey and weary face, strewn with haggard stubble and tangling wisps of grey hair that sprung unruly from his head

“Nice to meet you, Mr Lupin, sir.”

“Oh ‘sir’, is it? A proper gentleman you’ve brought here, Remus.” Remus’ father snorted in a not un-Remus-like fashion, and turned to his son with a chuckle crinkling folds beneath his tired eyes. “And how are you going about dragging customers like this down to the back end of nowhere, eh?”

“I was happy to come sir,” Sirius only half-lied, not admitting that he hadn’t known where he was being brought but was only too happy to follow wherever Remus led, and not quite brave enough to mention that he was slightly more than a regular client. “I’ve been curious about where Remus grew up.”

“Oh, have you now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Enough with this ‘sir’ business,” came the disgruntled growl. “My friends call me Lyall. But Mr Lupin is fine for you.”

“Da!”

“Oh hush Remus, this here’s a gentleman, he knows how to proper respect his elders, don’t you Sirius?”

“Of course, Mr Lupin,” Sirius chuckled, “and I’d say you taught Remus just as well already. You should see the way he speaks to his customers – he could teach half the lords I know a lesson in proper etiquette. I’ve never met someone quite so charming as your son.”

“Charming is it? Well, you must be meaning my other son. This one here’s been nothing but a cheeky bugger since the moment he came into this world.”

“Alright, Da.” Remus snorted from the side where he watched on with a nonetheless fond look hovering in his eyes.

“He is that too,” Sirius added lightly, with a quick grin and a wink at the old man, who broke out in in throaty laughter and the resemblance broke through that weathered visage, traces of Remus’ smirking grin flashing back at him through the wrinkled, beleaguered expression. Then Lyall was hacking back a cough, and Remus rushed to his side with a glass of water ready in hand, patting his back and urging him to take a sip.

“Alright, alright, enough fussing, Remus, I get enough of that from the old general downstairs,” batting Remus away, after he’d taken a few gasping sips of water, he raised his voice a little, earning a sharp reply from the bottom of the stairs.

“I heard that! Don’t think you’re getting any jelly with your tea tonight, Lyall Lupin.”

“What did I say,” Lyall shrugged with another gravelly chuckle.

“Alright, Da. You best be behaving for Dr Pomfrey.”

“Yes, yes,” Lyall gave a weary sigh, as he adjusted himself on the bed, “Does he nag you like this then, Sirius? I swear you’d think he was the parent the way he’s always telling me off. And it wasn’t that long ago that this one was getting into all sorts of trouble himself. Has he told you about the time he flooded the church?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Sirius’ grin widened, as he glanced excitedly up at Remus, who rolled his eyes with a quiet shake of his head.

“Don’t listen to a word this old man says, Sirius,” Remus muttered, “He’s lost all his marbles several decades ago.”

“I’ll have you know my mental faculties are perfectly intact, thank you, young man. And that’s no way to speak to your father, is it now. Anyway, as I was saying-”

“Da…”

“Shush, Remus, I’m talking. Now, where was I,” Lyall ruminated in a husky voice, as he formulated his thoughts. Sirius looked up to Remus, only to see him already staring back, seemingly unamused, but the smile never left his face. Sirius’ grin widened and he turned back to Lyall as he began recounting tales of Remus’ youthful mischief. The morning sunk into early afternoon as Lyall told tale after tale in his low rumbling tones, all the while Remus watched on fondly, interjecting whenever he felt an unfair accusation being held against him, only for Lyall to assert adamantly that Remus was every bit as naughty as he maintained, only Remus seemed to have a selective memory about it. Remus asserted the exact opposite, and so the two were at an impasse if not for Sirius who, with a twinkling laugh, sided with Lyall at any opportunity just to see Remus riled up all over again. “And don’t let him fool you now, Sirius. This one had half the village convinced he was such a quiet little thing, but anytime you found him sitting reading like a good lad, he was just as like to have come from some mischief caused down in the village.”

“Oh, I believe you, Mr Lupin.” Sirius grinned, eliciting another wearied sigh from Remus, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

“I don’t doubt it, son, I don’t doubt it.” Lyall muttered, but apparently his lengthy recitations had exhausted him, as his breathing became heavier, and it was clear he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Da, you’ve excited yourself too much. Reckon we should leave you to rest, hm?” Remus said, swooping in to fluff up the pillows behind him, attempting to get him to lie down. Lyall put up admirable resistance, but it was futile against Remus’ reproving admonitions.

Lyall grumbled something in Welsh, once again reminding Sirius of Remus’ own mannerisms, and Sirius couldn’t help but watch on with a warmth bubbling in his chest at the affection passing between the father and son. As happy as he was that Remus had brought him, to see Remus smiling and laughing, to understand a little better the life he’d led, something twinged beneath the light and warmth, something dark and nagging that reminded Sirius that this was not his happiness to share in, that he was an outsider glimpsing ever so briefly the love of a real family. It was how it was whenever he visited James and saw his parents fussing over their beloved son. As much as they insisted that Sirius was as good as their own, there was that unspoken understanding that Sirius was and would only ever be a Black.

“Are you okay?” Remus whispered, barely audible over the reverberation of Lyall’s soft snores where he’d already drifted off. Sirius looked up again at Remus, not realising that his face had become fraught and his eyes had begun to water in the soft-simmering self-pity that had started to edge in on the heartwarming intimacy unfolding before him. Sirius sniffed and rubbed a hand over his face, wiping the tears while attempting to style it off with a yawn.

“Yeah, yes. M’fine.” He gave a weak smile, but Remus looked unconvinced. Sirius could only shrug, and stood to head back downstairs to where Poppy would inevitably be waiting with more affection and warmth, and the thought made him weary. “You never told me… that call, before you went to Italy… what was it?”

“Dr Pomfrey may be a genius, but even she can’t cure everything. A consultant came up from the city last month. We thought Da was getting a bit better- well, not better exactly, there’s no cure, but we thought… anyway doctor says he’s maybe got a year.”

“Remus, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long to be honest. We took him to London when he first got sick. Doctors gave him five to seven years at best, but here he is still going stubborn nearly ten years later. No small part of it thanks to Dr Pomfrey, I’m sure.”

“Still, it’s… it’s not fair.” And it wasn’t. It wasn’t fair at all. Remus, that sweet, lovely man, whose parents loved him and whom he loved in return. It wasn’t fair that should have lost his mother so early and was now losing his father too. It wasn’t fair that Sirius’ own mother, the hateful woman, was alive and well, while this man, so full of love and life was on death’s corner. Sirius had never thought much of dying. It wasn’t something that concerned him. His own parent’s passing had always been something he’d looked forward to with the relieving certainty that it would happen someday, or if not that he would have the luck to go first. But that was before Remus.

“It never is.” Remus sighed, moving over to stand beside Sirius, a soothing hand pressing into his shoulder, though the idea that he was the one being comforted at this moment was absurd. “Do you want me to take you home now?”

“Home?” Sirius asked, forgetting for just a second that home wasn’t where he was. Home was that cold, empty estate far from here. And then he shook himself, ignored Remus’ perplexed expression, and smiled back at him, “I… after lunch maybe, can’t have Dr Pomfrey going to all that effort for nothing.”

And for whatever reason, Remus beamed at Sirius. They traipsed together back downstairs in near-silence, where Poppy had indeed laid out an elaborate spread of sandwiches and tea and scones that was far too much for three people, but that they tucked into with relish over more tales of Remus’ childhood scrapes and little fragmentary glimpses of what it might have been like to grow up surrounded by care and affection and warmth. As they cleared the plates, and mopped up the crumbs, Sirius began to prepare himself to return home, to leave the quiet warmth behind for the more severe stillness of Godric Hall.

“Poppy, let me change the oil tank for you, while I’m here.” Remus said with a stretch rising to his feet, and then stopping to dig into his pockets from where he produced a small item, “Oh, and before I forget - here’s the thing you asked for.”

“You’re a dear, Remus, thank you cariad.” She tugged at his shoulder and he bent down obediently to kiss her cheek, before stepping out the door and disappearing for a few moments.

Sirius followed suit, planting a kiss on both cheeks, as he flashed a charming grin, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr Pomfrey.”

“Oh call me Poppy, now then, and come back soon, won’t you. It does me no end seeing our little moon so happy like this. I can tell you mean a lot to him, Sirius.” Sirius blushed. “And I’m sure he means a lot to you too?”

“So much.” Was all he could manage, and then Remus reappeared at the door, Dr Pomfrey shooing them both out and reminding them again to come back soon.

~~~

“So… little moon?”

“Yes?”

“Adorable.”

“Bugger off.”

“But it’s perfect. Can I call you Moony?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you call me Padfoot.”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?” They tumbled back down the lane, brushing against each other as they walked, Remus scuffing up his shoes on the drying dirt track, kicking at rocks to watch them roll away.

“’s’my nickname.”

“Weird nickname. How’d you pick that one up?”

“I’ll tell you all about it if you let me call you Moony.”

“As if I could stop you.”

“That’s the spirit, Moony.”

“I regret bringing you here already.”

“So… what was that thing you gave Dr Pomfrey?”

“You’re relentless.”

“Thank you.”

“It was my Ma’s old locket. I’d forgotten I had it, actually. But we thought Da might like to hold onto it for a bit.”

“That’s…” But Sirius found himself at a loss for words. Thinking of such a small, tender gesture between father and son. Thinking of everything Remus had lost already.

“Thank you for coming today. I know it’s sudden, but…”

“Me too. I’m glad I came. I… it was nice to meet your dad. Nice to see where you come from.”

“Well, it’s not exactly, but after the shop it’s practically home.”

“Dr Pomfrey told me you sold your home. Where you grew up, I mean.”

Remus shrugged, “People move out of places. The shop’s been my home for that long now, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“How come you don’t? They seemed to want you there.”

“I’ve told her so many times, it’s just easier for me to live near the shop.” Remus groaned, like a young boy tired of being nagged too many times. “Poppy was looking after him long before that, as his doctor, of course, but when we mentioned having to make adjustments in the shop she insisted on him living with her instead, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and if I’m being honest it was the only sensible option, really. There’s no way Da and I could’ve both managed in that tiny flat.”

“But you could always commute.”

“I just… I know it probably makes me a bad person, but I don’t think I could manage seeing Da like that all the time. I know it’s horrible, and I know I should be trying to spend every moment we have together, and I do want to, it’s just-”

“It’s an impossible situation, Remus. There’s nothing right or wrong about how you choose to deal with it. Looking after yourself doesn’t make you a bad person, and everything you do for your dad… I’m sure he understands.” Sirius reached out to take hold of Remus’ hand, gripping it tightly in what he hoped was comfort.

“I’m not proud of it.”

“You don’t have to be. But you shouldn’t be ashamed of it, either. You’re doing what you have to. And it’s not like you don’t look after him. He’s got Dr Pomfrey, and everything you do at the shop, and I know you must visit all the time.” Sirius continued to hold onto Remus’ hand for as long as they trekked back through the muddy fields, only the livestock and the clouds around to witness them, but as they rounded the corner past the fence and back into the village, he let go.

“I ran away.”

“I know.”

“When they told me he was… I ran away.”

“But you came back.” Sirius wanted to lean forward as they came to the front of the shop, wanted to pull Remus into his arms and press his lips to Remus’ own, but held himself back. Even in the empty village street it seemed too daring, too bold where anyone might see. Frank was waiting a little further down the road, and Sirius was always careful to leave him with a claim to ignorance, even if he as likely had his suspicions, lest his mother ever question him directly about Sirius’ goings on.

“Will you… would stay with me? I know… I know we’re not supposed to be staying overnight, but-”

“Of course I’ll stay, Remus.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Nobody’s going to notice one night.”

“But-”

“Remus, I want to stay. Please, let me.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“I’ll let Frank know to come get me tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Remus?”

“Yes, Sirius?”

“Thank you for today.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“Be right back.” He promised, nudging Remus back into the cosy atelier and out of sight of the cloudy skies that threatened to open up at any moment. By the time Sirius returned, having seen Frank off for the rest of the day, Remus had already settled back into his work. Sirius was more than happy to sit beside him and watch, whiling away the afternoon in happy thoughts, prompting Remus about this or that thing Poppy or his dad had mentioned, coaxing him into sharing more of his life with Sirius. Sharing his home. And with the rain drumming against the glass of the shopfront, Sirius believed, if only for that night, that he was home too.

Chapter Text

It was unbearably domestic. The two of them dancing around each other in the limited space between the table and the rest of Remus’ cramped kitchen, Sirius taking care not to chop his fingers while Remus showed him how to make a simple pasta dish. Not that Sirius needed to know how to cook, but he was thrilled for the chance to make himself useful, even if Remus had resolutely refused to let him near the stove.

“Don’t need you burning the building down,” He’d teased with an amused snort when Sirius pleaded to be allowed to sauté the onions. “And you be careful with that knife. I’d rather not be on the receiving end of whatever McGonagall’s response is to you coming home slightly less whole.”

Sirius smiled, rolling his eyes at Remus’ overcautiousness and didn’t mention that he’d never felt more whole in his life.

They sat around the small table, their knees touching as they ate, sinking into quiet conversation, as Sirius filled Remus in on his most recent day in parliament, or the parts he’d paid attention to anyway. Remus listened with interest, asking questions that Sirius did his best to answer. He laughed at his acerbic witty remarks, rolled his eyes in absolute fondness when Sirius slipped into calling him ‘Moony’, and knotted his fingers through Sirius’ as they ate. Neither of them minded the slight struggle to eat with only a fork.

After dinner, Sirius begged Remus to make him a hot chocolate, and Remus insisted on blowing it cool, taking smug pleasure over Sirius’ torment when he, for some reason, found it unspeakably alluring. With mugs warming hands, they whiled away the evening in idle comfort sat together on the sofa. By the end of the night, Remus was running his fingers through Sirius’ hair, where his head rested on Remus’ lap as he flipped through one of Remus’ fashion magazines. Every now and then he demanded an explanation of this material, or that colour, which Remus happily provided, his voice bubbling ripples of fond amusement.

Remus’ room was every bit as cluttered as Sirius had imagined, books piled up in stacks on the dresser, by the bed and on the floor, socks and various other items of clothing spread lazily on a chair in the corner, his bed still unmade from that morning, and a half-empty waterglass standing in a small gap on one of the nightstands next to a framed picture of Remus, Marlene and Lily in front of Alastor’s shop. It was so at odds with Remus’ otherwise meticulous approach to everything else and Sirius couldn’t help finding it endearing how little Remus seemed to care, flinging his clothes on the floor as he changed for bed. Remus caught Sirius’ look of laughter and followed his gaze. A sheepish look of horror dawned as if he was only then noticing the mess for the first time and he jolted into a harried attempt at tidying, until Sirius stopped him in his arms, sinking him close to kiss around his smile.

They brushed their teeth together before bed, Remus standing over Sirius’ shoulder, mischief-sparkling eyes catching Sirius’ as he tried to get him to laugh, until he finally succeeded and Sirius splattered the mirror in a tooth-paste flavoured snort. Pouting at the relentless teasing, Sirius took refuge in the bed, already wrapped up in Remus’ too long pyjamas. He stayed buried under the sheets, cloaked in the familiar woodland-honied scent, until he was coaxed from hiding with sweet words and more scattered kisses.

As night fell, the pair lay together, breathing in a shared steady rhythm that sounded out the sweet comfort of their idle domesticity, only broken occasionally by the delicate sound of chaste kisses traded from within the warmth of their shared cocoon.

“Would you…” Sirius started, speaking softly into the faded lines of silhouettes casting shapes across Remus’ room. “Can you tell me about her? Your mother, I mean.”

Remus took a short, sharp breath in, as if he’d been stung, then remained silent for a long moment. Just as Sirius was beginning to back-track, Remus spoke.

“I guess you could call her an optimist,” he began, his voice already thick with sleep and his vowels coming out in a stronger lilt – as they always did late at night and early in the morning. “Nothing was too much for her, and every setback was another opportunity in disguise. She used to tell Da off when he complained too much. Probably be telling me off just as much these days. Ma was always so… content with everything. Truly believed that we created our own happiness. Not in the ‘suck-it-up-and-just-be-happy’ kind of way, but in a way that was like pure strength even when everything seemed impossible. She was always smiling, no matter how much I misbehaved, or how grumpy Da got, she’d find something to smile about. I think… I think I’m mostly like my dad, but sometimes I sort of wish I could be more like her. I know I was young, but… I never even knew she was ill. She was always so full of life. And then she passed away on my ninth birthday.”

“That’s why you don’t celebrate…”

“That’s why.” Remus confirmed.

“She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

“Oh, she’d have loved you.” Even in the darkness, Sirius could make out the grin breaking out in a bright crescent across Remus’ lips. “She’d’ve taken it as a personal challenge, you acting all haughty and lord-like, like you were when you came into my shop the first time. Wouldn’t’ve stopped until she’d broken all the way through that frosty exterior and made you crack a smile.”

“I think you’re probably more like her than you realise.” Sirius gave a gentle huff of laughter at the thought, before softening to a whisper as he continued, “You’re… you make everything brighter.”

“Are you calling me an optimist? Because I really thought you knew me better than that by now.” And Sirius laughed loud and unreserved, shattering the night, as he pulled Remus close.

“Maybe not an optimist… god knows you can be grouchy enough- ow!” Sirius whined at Remus’ light pinch to his side, “All I’m saying, my dear Moony, is that you seem to have a way of seeing the best in a situation… in people.”

“Mmh…” Remus considered, and with a shrug he said, “Maybe I’ve just been lucky enough to know the best people.”

“Nothing to do with luck, Remus. You bring out the best in people.” Sirius answered, an unequivocal statement that left Remus no room to argue. When he didn’t reply, Sirius probed a few more questions, feeling more confident from beneath the invisible covers of night to ask things he hadn’t dared when he could have made out the lines of Remus’ expression. Remus seemed to find it easier too, as Sirius pulled him tight against his chest, wrapping an arm around him and listened to Remus whisper his fears into the dark, fears about his father’s health, his debts, his guilt. Sirius murmured soothing words until Remus’ breathing calmed into gentle snores and Sirius allowed his head to sink beneath the drowsy hum to join him.

Something echoed in the back of Sirius’ mind as he floated on the edge of that hazy dreaming sleep. Something that vaguely rang of home, and caring, and the idea of doing something worthwhile. The spark of an idea crested in his mind, before it slipped away to the edges, preserved for the next day once he was back in his own echoing halls. For now, though, he let the idea slip away behind a veil of beautiful dreams of him and Remus living in a messy flat in some middle-of-nowhere-village, where they cooked together and danced together and made hot chocolate and fell asleep in each other’s arms every night, their lives slotting together like the patchwork stitches on a quilt.

Yes, it was all so unbearably domestic, the little corner of bliss they had carved out in the space of that one night. And Sirius never wanted to leave.

~~~

As much as Sirius had been terrified of what might happen after they left their sunny Tuscan paradise, the time he’d spent with Remus since then was nothing short of an all-consuming dream. The two of them shared soft laughter, broad smiles, lavished touches, and deep, drowning kisses – stolen moments in the welcome shelter of the cosy atelier. After all, who was to know what went on in shrouded corners behind the wainscoted walls? It had become near enough habit now for Sirius’ pulse to begin racing in anticipation when the narrow country lanes wound into that familiar stretch of hedgerows approaching Remus’ village, only to be replaced by the thrum of excitement that strung quivering shudders through his body as he stepped through the entrance. Today, however, the tripping murmurs in his chest were brought to a grinding halt when he was met with the less-than-pleased expression on Remus’ face as he pushed through the door.

To keep up some form of pretence, Sirius had brought one of his old, less precious, suits made by some other tailor, and had every intention of asking Remus to make some adjustments. Seeing the scornful frown that greeted him in place of the usual blossoming smile, he was glad he had. Remus did not seem like he was in the mood to have his time wasted.

“I… Is everything okay?” He started, a little taken aback at the frigid greeting. Remus snorted and turned back to his account books. Sirius, however, didn’t allow himself to be dissuaded and, presenting the old jacket and trousers, he continued, “I wanted to make some adjustments on this.”

Remus spared a disdainful glance over the suit, without meeting Sirius’ line of sight. Once again, he returned to his books as if Sirius hadn’t said a word.

“Do you have time now?” Sirius persisted, never one to leave well enough alone.

Finally, Remus looked up, pursed his lips together in a thin line, and without a word he began moving about the shop, indicating for Sirius to settle himself in the dressing area. Without thinking, Sirius began to remove his form-fitting scarlet polo neck, ignoring the flicker of his own reflection in the many-sided mirrors of the dusty old partition. However, when Remus returned with his implements, he looked Sirius up and down, and seemed almost unimpressed as he sighed, “I’ve not made you any new shirts.”

“Oh. Right.” Sirius had forgotten to bring a button-up, “I’ll just put my jumper back on.”

“No.” Remus shook his head tersely, as he dragged his gaze scathingly over the offending polo neck, where it had been flung over one of his headless mannequins. His flickering gaze seemed determined to dart everywhere besides Sirius’ exposed chest, though a rosy hue lifted to his cheeks even as the crease in his brow deepened. “The fit will be better with a proper shirt. I’ll get you one off the peg.”

Sirius nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak when he had no way of knowing what he was doing wrong. Remus was barely gone for a minute before he was handing over a plain white shirt that hung a little loose on Sirius’ frame. He shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, but stopped himself short when his fingers started automatically toward the buttons. He chewed his cheeks to hold back a smile and plastered as haughty a sneer as he could muster over his expression, thinking he knew exactly how to shake Remus from his dour mood.

“Remus, would you be so kind?” Sirius indicated vaguely at his still-exposed chest and couldn’t help his mouth twitching up at the corners, as Remus’ hard-set moody expression faltered, only to be quickly covered again by his narrowing gaze. After a moment’s pause, he obligingly came over to stand in front of Sirius, without a word or any indication of his usual teasing smirk. His hands moved hesitantly at first, apparently unable to help himself grazing an open glance over Sirius’ chest and abdomen, even if the frown had not once left his face since Sirius had walked in. Then, with a charged silence hovering between them, Remus began fastening the buttons in stubborn silence while his fingers worked their way up his front.

Sirius unconsciously swiped a tongue over his lips, and Remus’ eyes darted up for a brief instant at the movement, before locking onto Sirius’ gaze. His hands froze, only half-way up the column of buttons and parted his lips as if to say something.

“I seem to recall asking for your help with my buttons. Don’t stop now.” Sirius murmured teasingly, which earned him a raised eyebrow from his adversary.

“I’m beginning to wonder how you ever managed without me.” Remus muttered in a sardonic pinch, having apparently decided to refrain from whatever he had planned to say. His fingers remained motionless and his voice grated out in something terse, a harsh edge to his tone.

“One gets by.” Sirius shrugged with a feigned nonchalance, as though he weren’t entirely disturbed by Remus’ unprovoked sullen manner.

“Oh does one?” Came the scathing reply, his expression still stiff, “Well I think one might start now, might one not?”

“What?”

“Do your own bloody buttons.” Remus huffed, the slight puff of air disturbing the soft curls over his brow as he removed his hands altogether and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Sirius with a stern glare.

Sirius flailed around for some way to recover the situation, as his usual easy-going charm failed to lift Remus out of his churlish mood. He had been hoping to coax Remus into spending another day hidden away together, a precious secret in the corners of the dusty old atelier, but now realised he had instead goaded an already disgruntled Remus into a challenge. Feeling a defensive shutter unfurl over him, Sirius pulled over his haughty mask and accompanying sneer.

“I am the customer, am I not? Shouldn’t you be trying to keep me happy?” Something in Remus’ expression twitched irritably. Sirius, suddenly finding himself backed into a corner lined with his own ego and unrelenting obstinacy, felt his back straighten, proud to have provoked a reaction. Then, just when he thought he might emerge victorious in this petty duel in which the two found themselves, Remus pulled out his most cordial smile, which Sirius now knew was held in reserve for his most aggravating clients, and returned to his buttons.

“A seemingly impossible task,” he muttered as he fixed his gaze purposefully on the shirt buttons and nothing else. “There,” Remus declared once the buttons were all fastened, before adding in a low hiss through his still wide-drawn smile, “Is that to your liking, my Lord, or would you have me redo them all?”

Sirius had an equally barbed retort loaded in the bite of his teeth and then, miraculously, his irritation dissolved as he stared into the irate fog of Remus’ lovely brown eyes, mooring himself in the familiar calming depths. “Are you… angry at me?”

“What do you bloody think?” Remus snapped, finally allowing his stiff composure to break, releasing an unbound vitriol that Sirius was entirely unprepared for.

“I don’t-”

“Or did you think I wouldn’t notice the extra money in my account?” Oh.

“It’s for the suits.” Sirius rushed out, the answer sitting a little too ready on his tongue. He had hoped Remus wouldn’t notice quite so soon.

“You’ve already paid for all the outstanding orders, and I don’t recall receiving any new ones from you. It’s certainly too much to cover any small adjustments.” His head jerked irritably towards the suit Sirius had brought in, where the jacket and trousers lay neglected on a stool.

“You’ve been undercharging me.” Sirius couldn’t keep the accusing tone out of his voice, and at this, Remus’ eyes flashed danger.

“For fuck’s- Sirius, as I told you before, I have charged you fairly for every suit I’ve ever made you.”

“I had Minerva look up the estimates. You’ve barely been charging me for the service costs.”

“I’ve been charging you exactly as much as I charge all my other clients for my work. Don’t think you’re getting any special treatment from me, Lord Black. Or is it that you think you’re paying for some other services?”

“Remus-” Sirius gaped, horrified at the suggestion, but Remus didn’t let it linger, didn’t grant him quarter to begin to feel guilty, or let remorse edge in over his own stubbornness and anger at being reprimanded for doing something he had thought could only be good. He had the money and means, and Remus clearly didn’t. So what if he wanted to make Remus’ life a little easier? Wasn’t he allowed that much?

“Nor am I a charity case, so you can take your bleeding money and shove it up your-”

“But I thought-”

“You thought wrong.”

“Fine! Fine, whatever Remus. I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your-”

“No, you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“Well, good.”

“Good.”

“Have a good day, Sirius.”

And then Remus stalked out of sight and slammed the heavy wooden door behind him, leaving Sirius to gape at the empty space he’d left behind. Sirius stood in a state of shock for a moment, but before he could recover, that same door swung wide open and Remus had reappeared.

“Actually, no.” He declared, marching right back over to the dressing area where Sirius hadn’t moved.

“No?”

“No, I’m not letting you off that easy.”

“Remus-”

“You haven’t even apologised.”

“Apologised? For what?” Sirius cried, incredulously, unable to fathom what exactly was so bad about him lavishing his excessive wealth on the person he cared about, especially when Remus was the one who needed it.

“For throwing your money about where it isn’t wanted. For making me feel about this big,” Remus’ pinched his fingers together, “For using my sick dad and my crushing debt as some sort of excuse to feel good about yourself.”

And when Remus said it aloud, maybe Sirius could see why the harmless gesture had upset him. His own indignance, that the first considerate thing he’d tried to do had backfired so stupendously, started to abate and Sirius allowed himself to understand how he might have injured Remus’ pride, insulted his independence, and unwittingly complicated the dynamics of their still new and untested relationship. He was willing to admit – if only to himself – that perhaps, maybe, Remus had a right to be the tiniest bit irked.

“I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t what? Trying to buy me?”

“Remus, of course not!”

“Then what?” Remus demanded.

“I was- I was… it’s just- fuck, Remus. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing, I wanted to help. I didn’t know you would…” Sirius’ voice came out small and insignificant, and at that, Remus’ anger seemed finally to ebb. Taking his opportunity, Sirius pressed. “Remus, I’d never want you to feel that way because of me.”

Finally, relaxing ever so slightly, he admitted, “I know you wouldn’t, Sirius.” And then gave a heavy, exhausted sigh, “Look, I know it came from a good place, but you’ve got to understand…”

“I do, I promise. I’ll ask Minerva to reach out to you about rearranging the transfer.”

“Already sorted. Sent it back yesterday.” Remus shrugged, a little sheepishly, and Sirius couldn’t help smiling a little at Remus’ own stubbornness.

“You didn’t waste a minute, did you.”

“Didn’t really enjoy feeling like a kept man.” The suggestion made Sirius wince, but there was no longer any venom in Remus’ voice. With another, lighter sigh, Remus moved back into Sirius’ space, straightening up the collar of the fully-buttoned shirt, his hands lingering at Sirius’ shoulders. He avoided Sirius’ gaze, but his fingers wound their way into the ends of his hair in a hesitant show of affection. Sirius felt himself untense at the renewed closeness, and with his own sigh he wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, leaning in for a chaste peck on the lips. Remus allowed it, finally looking Sirius in the eye, and then deepened the kiss himself.

“I really wasn’t thinking…” Sirius mumbled again, pressing another kiss to Remus’ lips.

“Please don’t try anything like that again, Sirius? It didn’t feel good.”

“Maybe…” Sirius tried tentatively, “Maybe there’s some way I could make it up to you?”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Remus raised his eyebrow in challenge.

“I have a few ideas…” Sirius let loose a cheeky grin, and Remus rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation, but there was no disguising the sudden intense interest that had taken over his expression. Sirius licked his tongue out, dragging it over his lips and letting them fall open slightly, triumphant at Remus’ gaze tracking the movement.

“Sirius…” It seemed to be started with the intent to protest, but came out as a light moan instead.

“Please, Moony.” He let his tone drop into a rasping plea, “Let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good. I’ll show you exactly what you mean to me.”

“How…um,” Remus stumbled under Sirius’ urgent kisses, “how are you going to do that?” There was a slight keen in his voice, and then his eyes shot wide as Sirius sunk to his knees with a lust-bitten smirk and a flutter of his eyelashes.

“I seem to remember you having some fantasy about me on my knees in front of these mirrors. Shall we see if we can’t make that a reality?”

“Oh fuck…” And then Remus stooped over, pulling Sirius’ head between his hands into a hungry kiss. A soft whine escaped Sirius, but he let himself be captured, let Remus take control as his tongue reached searchingly between his teeth.

“I take it you like this idea then?” Sirius asked, panting softly when Remus finally released his lips and straightened up again, allowing him to draw breath. Before Remus could reply, Sirius was palming at Remus’ trousers, nudging the outline of his cock into a hardening tent.

Remus’ mouth contorted as he made some effort to say something, but Sirius was already mouthing at the fabric around his cock, nuzzling into Remus’ thigh as he raised a hand to slowly, ever so carefully, nudge open the fastenings keeping Remus’ rapidly swelling erection restrained. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as it broke free from its cotton hold, and allowed himself a moment to admire the perfect curve of Remus’ thick cock, before wrapping his hand around the silky skin of his length. He knew his grip was not quite tight enough and Remus let out an agonised groan above him.

“Sorry, love, didn’t catch that? Did you want me to keep going or…”

“Fuck, Sirius, I thought I told you about teasing me, sweetheart.” The threat in his voice completely undercut by the garbled moan that followed when Sirius sunk his lips over the tip for little more than a few seconds, swirling his tongue lightly over the head before drawing away again leaving Remus bucking into his still-loose hand and the empty space in front of him.

“I’m not teasing, sweetheart.” Sirius spoke through a wide smile, most definitely teasing, and then proceeded in tentative licks along the hard length, continuing to speak in-between, “I’m taking my time to enjoy your cock. It’s so pretty, I can’t help wanting to see everything.”

“Sirius…” Remus growled, but lost the rest of his words as Sirius sunk back down, taking more of Remus in his mouth and curling his tongue over him as he drank in the slight salty taste of Remus between his lips. He continued with half-hearted efforts, taking his time to enjoy the sensation of Remus hot and heavy on his tongue, while soft groans and delicate, drawn-out moans washed over him. As much as Sirius was enjoying taking his time with Remus’ magnificent cock, he knew it was only a matter of time before Remus became impatient and took matters into his own hands, so to speak. The mere thought of it had him growing hard, though he allowed the sweeping desire to melt into the background as he lavished his attention onto Remus.

“Sirius…” came another protesting groan.

“Yes, Moony?” Sirius pulled off Remus’ cock with a pop of his lips, and fluttered his eyelashes with wide-eyed innocence up at the man above him. Remus’ breath caught as he met his gaze, and whatever he had been planning on saying was put on hold for Remus to admire the sight of Sirius on his knees. He ran his fingers through dark swathes, and Sirius allowed his eyes to drift shut as Remus’ hands massaged his scalp, tangling his hair into knots as his fingers found purchase.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Sirius’ grin widened, fluttering his eyes open again and regarding Remus with the glint of a challenge.

“If you want me to fuck your mouth, darling, you only need to ask.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sirius insisted, lapping another line in one long stroke along the underside of Remus’ cock from base to tip and back, letting his mouth fall open a little wider at the bottom to suck Remus’ balls into his mouth briefly, before planting a soft closed mouth kiss against his barely exposed thigh beneath the line of his briefs. Sirius stayed silent for a while, maintaining eye contact as he resumed long languid strokes with his hand, tightening his grip ever so slightly. He absorbed every tiny reaction, from the way Remus’ brow crinkled slightly at the added pressure, to the tips of his teeth poking out beneath his top lip to form small dents in his bottom lip as he struggled to hold back another moan. Sirius knew for a fact that Remus would outlast him in this particular struggle, despite being the one being denied for a change. He knew by now that Remus’ boundless self-restraint meant that he would allow himself to be kept on the brink for hours if need be, until Sirius was the one begging. But it didn’t mean that Sirius wasn’t going to make him wait a little bit longer. “Your cock deserves to be admired, taken care of, slowly and with due respect.”

“Is that so?” Remus’ growled dangerously, “Then if it’s all the same to you, perhaps you’d be better off admiring it from a distance while I get myself off. Darling, the sight of you on your knees for me is more than enough.”

Sirius whined at the suggestion and Remus returned a victorious smirk. Sirius had hoped to hold out for a little longer, but even the threat that he’d be left sitting and watching, unable to touch and taste Remus the way he craved, was too much. Sirius wanted Remus in his mouth and spilling into his throat within the next few minutes if at all possible.

“Please, Remus…” Sirius begged, as he knew Remus had expected he would.

“What is it, darling? Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Please, fuck my mouth with your gorgeous cock.”

“Such a sweet little thing, aren’t you.” Remus practically cooed, his thumb gliding over Sirius’ cheek before winding a firm grip into Sirius’ hair. “Alright, love, since you asked so nicely. Open up, darling.”

Sirius let his mouth fall slack, and dropped his tongue, relaxing his jaw as wide as possible. Remus continued to push in slowly at first, dragging his thick cock over Sirius’ tongue, then tapping it lightly against his lips. He rocked forwards again, in a slow grinding motion, rolling his hips with a light moan. He continued in long, drawn-out movements, still massaging Sirius’ scalp without loosening his grip. All that tenderness had Sirius’ body humming from head to toe with a fuzzy warmth, but there was still that deep yearning desire to be taken roughly, to be made into an instrument of pleasure all for Remus’ benefit. Sirius moaned around Remus’ cock, making his hips stutter against Sirius’ chin.

“What is it, darling?” Remus asked in a low, gentle murmur, pulling himself out for Sirius to answer.

“Thought you were going to fuck my mouth,” Sirius pouted a little, not caring to take the whine out of his voice. Remus gave a low, dark chuckle.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. I will. I’m just taking my time to enjoy this a little longer.” He freed his hand again and stroked his knuckles over Sirius’ cheek. “Thought you were trying to make it up to me, hm? You’re being so good for me, darling. Won’t you let me savour it a bit more?”

“Yes, Moony.” Sirius replied, a hush taking over his voice as his chest swelled at the affection in Remus’ words and gestures. Winding his fingers back into their hold, Remus resumed rolling himself over Sirius’ tongue, and Sirius obligingly curled his tongue in soft, sweet licks, wanting to return the tenderness that Remus had shown him. After a few more moans and some slightly firmer but still restrained thrusts, Remus halted his movements, withdrawing again. Sirius licked his lips as the swollen cock, shiny with spit and Remus’ leaking arousal stood proudly in front of him out of reach for a moment, Remus watching him with a fond smile, as Sirius felt himself glaze over at the sight.

“Ready, love?”

“Yes, please Remus, I’m so ready for you.”

All of a sudden Remus’ tender expression vanished and with a swift smirk, Remus drove forward without remorse, immediately sheathing himself in entirety inside Sirius’ mouth. His strong hands held Sirius down on the base of his cock, struggling to breathe with his nose pressed into the soothing fabric of Remus’ boxer shorts. Remus kept him there for a few moments, giving Sirius time to adjust to the intrusion at the back of his throat, all the while rubbing soothing circles at the base of his neck with his thumb. Once Sirius had choked back his gag reflex, he opened his eyes again and looked straight up at Remus who was watching him with an expression of awe.

“Fuck, Sirius, you have no idea how good you look like this,” Remus moaned, easing the pressure a little so that Sirius could take in small breaths through his nose, though Remus’ cock stayed firmly pressed against the back of his throat. “I wish I could keep you like this all day. Keep your perfect lips wrapped around my cock, for me to use whenever I wanted. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Sirius blinked through the edging dizziness and did his best to nod. In that moment he couldn’t think of anything more satisfying than to be dragged around all day attached to Remus’ cock by the mouth. Perhaps, he thought for a fleeting moment, perhaps that was his true calling. And then the thought was gone, as Remus pulled out in one long stroke and slammed back into Sirius’ throat with force. Sirius had no room for any thoughts after that except to keep himself from choking on Remus’ relentless cock as he thrust between Sirius’ lips at a punishing pace, tugging Sirius over himself by his hair, until Sirius was choking around his cock with tears in his eyes. Remus alternated between being unable to tear his eyes away from the picture Sirius made, to craning his neck up with eyes squeezed tight, to garbled slurries of erotic noises forced out in the sheer ecstasy of fucking Sirius’ mouth. Sirius’ hands found their way under his clothes, running his fingers over Remus' waist, his thighs, his balls, everywhere Sirius could reach from where he knelt.

It was clumsy and crude, and Sirius could feel that Remus was close to finding his release, but a sudden urgent need overcame him. He tapped his hand against Remus’ leg, and Remus pulled out in an instant, wild-eyed and breathing heavily.

“What is it Sirius? Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Sirius rasped out, surprised by how fucked out his voice sounded already, “M’fine, but I want-”

“What sweetheart, what do you want?”

“Want you to fuck me.” Remus groaned loudly and pulled Sirius up into a tumbling kiss, groaning desperately into his open mouth. He swirled their tongues together in a sloppy mess of saliva and Remus’ precome that had already begun spilling into Sirius’ mouth, until they were both forced to separate by the necessity of breathing.

There was a loud cough and they halted in an instant. In the frantic movements of their kiss, they’d tumbled out from behind the cover of the dressing area, entangled in each other in the broad daylight of the shop, with Remus’ trousers still around his knees, and his cock still hanging out of his briefs, barely covered by Sirius’ body pressed tightly against his own. They hadn’t heard the bell, and neither of them knew how long Peter had been standing there. After a moment’s pause as they each came to terms with the situation they found themselves in, Peter’s hands had flown to cover his own eyes, Remus had let out a colourful stream of swears, and Sirius had sprung out of his embrace, his heart thudding in his chest. They had been caught, literally, with their pants down – well Remus’ pants.

“Oh god, I did not need to see that!” Came Peter’s repulsed cry, one hand clamped over his eyes and the other flailing about in front of him, possibly in some attempted gesture of admonishment, or otherwise a protective shield in case either Remus or Sirius had any foolish notions of moving closer in their current state.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Pete,” Remus panted, struggling to make himself decent as he jumped himself and his flagging but nonetheless obvious erection, back into his trousers. Casting a glance over himself and then running a hand through Sirius’ hair to flatten down the unruly tangle he’d mussed up, he confirmed, “We’re decent. You can look now.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to see again, actually.” Peter grumbled, removing his hand nevertheless and settling into a calmer expression of wrinkled disappointment at the sight he’d witnessed.

“Sorry, Pete. Got a bit carried away…” Remus repeated, chuckling guiltily. He glanced over to Sirius, where he was still standing shell-shocked at the interruption and Remus’ face contorted out of its previous embarrassment into something far more concerned. Sirius realised his face had been stuck in an expression of horror, and he did his best to return to something calmer, ending up in a sheepish grimace. He could only assume from the flaming heat in his cheeks that he was as red as Remus’ crimson-blushed face.

“How long have you been there?” Remus ventured nervously. Sirius’ throat, besides being fucked raw, was dry and tight from the recent panic, and he found himself entirely useless to do anything other than gape between Remus and his chagrined friend.

“Luckily,” Peter sighed, “I’d only just come in. I dread to think what I’d have been privy to if I’d been here a few moments earlier.”

“Lucky.” Remus repeated, still sheepish, and apparently too embarrassed to even attempt a tactful change of topic. The three of them stood in awkward silence for a moment, Sirius doing all he could to avoid looking Remus’ childhood friend in the eye while he could still taste Remus on his lips. “Sorry, Pete, was there something you needed?”

“I… um, no, nothing urgent. Sorry, I’ll… let you both get back to it.” Peter glanced warily between the two of them before showing himself out.

“Now, where were we,” Remus breathed the minute Peter disappeared from sight, but stopped short at Sirius’ expression. “Are you okay, Sirius?”

Sirius' chest was tight from the cold shards pinning his lungs in place, the idea of breathing so far beyond him that he didn’t even realise he wasn’t. His entire body was ice ready to shatter at the slightest breeze, because he had been careless.

“We were caught.”

“Darling, it’s okay, it was only Peter.”

“But it could have been anyone.”

“But it wasn’t. We’ll just have to be more careful in future.” Remus reached out in the offer of an embrace, and Sirius felt himself flinching away before he could stop himself. “Sirius, sweetheart, please look at me?”

With concerted effort, Sirius forced his gaze to move from the empty space where Peter had been and meet Remus' eye. He was instantly awash with reassurance at the sweet, melted chocolate gaze thawing the fear choking him from the inside out, until it had almost dissolved. This time he let Remus hands reach him, and pull them both back behind the protective shelter of the carved partition.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Sirius.” And as Sirius was enveloped in Remus’ arms, he let out a choked whimper, almost a sob. Remus rubbed soothing patterns over his back, whispering softly into his ear, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Nothing happened. We’re okay. You’re okay, love.”

Sirius let himself be rocked soothingly in Remus’ arms for a moment, the warmth slowly returning to him as the scent of Remus filled his nostrils. He nuzzled deeper into Remus’ shirt and then noticed something pressing against his hip.

“You’re still hard?” Sirius whispered, lifting his head out from the cosy depths of Remus’ embrace in time to see Remus’ blushing deep red.

“Sorry,” he groaned, “I was just so close before. It’s going to take a minute to go down.” And Sirius’ stomach stirred in interest at the thought of Remus being so far gone, so turned on, and yet ignoring the urge to act on it, putting Sirius’ comfort and concerns before his own aching needs.

“I was meant to be making it up to you.” Sirius started quietly, a small, mischievous smile growing, but Remus didn’t seem to notice through his anxious concern.

“It’s okay sweetheart, we don’t have to-” but he was cut short by Sirius wedging a hand between their still entangled bodies to grip the clothed erection, his own stirring in renewed interest. Remus gasped sharply, and then turned his head down to meet Sirius who was now grinning madly.

“I was meant to be apologising,” Sirius said, with more insistence as Remus began to rock into his hand with barely noticeable movements and a soft whine escaping from the back of his throat.

“You know…” Remus answered, his soothing voice entirely replaced by a low, dark murmur, “If you hadn’t stopped sucking me off so that you could beg me to fuck you, you’d have been able to finish your apology before we were interrupted and I wouldn’t be in this… predicament.”

“Guess I’ll have to make that up to you as well.”

“I’ll add it to the list.” Remus growled, and then a little softer, he added, “Let’s take this somewhere a bit more private.”

Sirius, meanwhile, already forgetting the brief interruption, had begun grinding against Remus, who captured him in another frantic kiss. He walked them to the back of the shop and after fumbling with the doorknob, tugged Sirius through after him and shoved him back against the door as it shut them into the dark well at the bottom of the narrow staircase leading up to Remus’ flat. Before Sirius even had a chance to draw breath, slightly winded from being slammed into the door, Remus was sucking bruises onto the soft skin of his throat with his mouth, his hands preoccupied with removing every scrap of clothing from Sirius’ body. All Sirius could do was moan and writhe under the rough handling, Remus holding him back from rutting against him, keeping his back pressed against the door, while he finished undressing him. Remus held him there for a moment longer, his eyes roaming in open admiration of Sirius’ naked figure.

And then suddenly, Sirius was being shunted up against the door, Remus stepping between his hips, and pulling Sirius’ legs around his waist, lifting him off the ground. Sirius pulled himself up around Remus’ neck by his arms, and ground his hips into the newly tight pressure, the rough texture of Remus’ clothes providing simultaneous torture and relief against Sirius’ swelling erection. Remus ground his hips deeper into Sirius, pulling a cry of pleasure from his throat.

“Colour.” He demanded.

“Green.” Sirius gasped back between staggered moans.

“Good boy.” Remus growled, and Sirius continued to push himself deeper and deeper against Remus’ body, using the leverage of Remus’ strong supporting arms and pushing back against the door to chase the much-needed pressure against the mounting throb in his cock, rutting himself into heady ecstasy, already so close.

“What do you think you’re doing.” Came the low demand and Sirius froze his movements.

“I-”

“Did I say you could get yourself off?”

“But-”

“I thought you wanted to make it up to me?”

“Please, Remus, I want-”

“Ah ah.” Remus interrupted, “You were the one that wanted me to fuck you so badly that we got caught. You could have had me coming down your throat, and then I’d have got you off however you wanted. But no, Lord Black was too desperate to have a cock in his arse. You just couldn’t wait could you? So now I’m going to give you exactly what you asked for. But I’m going to do it the way I want.”

“Remus, please-” but he was cut off by Remus dropping him to his feet. And finally, finally that delicious smirk curled over Remus’ lips, as he pulled away from Sirius, letting him fall against the door as his feet dropped.

“Ssh, sweetheart.” And then his hands were back on Sirius, one gripping his cock tightly, the other pressing his hip against the door in a bruising hold, stopping him from rutting like he so desperately wanted to, “If you wanted me to make you feel good, you could have come in here and apologised nicely. But you had to be all demanding, didn’t you? Couldn’t even be bothered to say sorry for throwing your money around where it wasn’t wanted. You wanted to apologise with your actions instead of your words, so I’m going to let you do exactly that.”

“Please Remus, I’m sorry, I-” He stuttered out, but Remus’ smirk only grew. Sirius swallowed at the threat in Remus’ eyes and couldn’t help the way his mouth fell open in response, his throat running dry.

“I’m afraid it’s too late now, sweetheart.” He purred, licking his lips as he dragged his teeth along the side of Sirius’ throat, stopping at his ear to whisper, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

Sirius felt his gaze go out of focus, and oh god it was delicious. His whole body burned under Remus’ sharp admonishments. How he wanted to be good. How he wanted Remus to make him be good. He whined softly and Remus drew back to watch his expression. There was a cautiousness in Remus’ eyes, something searching, testing a boundary beyond what they’d done till now, but Sirius wanted it so badly, craved Remus’ approval, his forgiveness, like nothing before and he was ready to do just about anything to get what he wanted.

“Colour, Sirius.”

“Green. Fuck, please Remus. I can be good, I want to be good.” He muttered deliriously, completely lost in the heady excitement of it all.

“Doesn’t fucking look like it.” He reached forward to trace lines over Sirius’ torso, before lowering his finger to trail up the length of Sirius’ cock, teasing circles around the head where he was already damp. Sirius couldn’t stop himself bucking into the featherlight teasing touch, “Look at you. Fucking desperate for it. Such a needy little thing, so used to getting everything you want, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, please, I need it. I need you, Remus.”

“Thought you could buy me like a whore, didn’t you?” A flash of guilt shot through Sirius’ body, so close to the edge of too much, and he almost called out his safe word, but something in Remus’ burning words intrigued him, something in the way his lips curved around the illicit word sparked a simmering curiosity in his stomach, and when he spoke again, watching Sirius’ reaction carefully, Sirius realised exactly why. “But it’s you. You’re the needy little whore, aren’t you?”

“Fuck.” Sirius whispered, unable to stop the shudder that ripped through his spine, “I am…”

“You are what?” Remus settled into a vicious grin, relaxing once he saw Sirius’ uncontained response.

“I’m your needy little whore, Remus.”

“Fuck, darling,” Remus gasped and then he crashed his lips against Sirius, something desperate and rushed, his tongue pressing deep between Sirius’ teeth, curling heat inside Sirius’ mouth. He pulled away and before Sirius knew what was happening, Remus had flipped him over so that his cheek was pressed against the door. Remus pressed up behind him, pulling his hips back with rough hands, careful to leave enough space to prevent his cock gaining any relief from rubbing against the wood. Sirius’ cock kicked out at the air, and he tore out a frustrated moan at the total lack of stimulation, while Remus’ still clothed erection pressed firmly against the lines of his arse.

“Remus…” he moaned, “Please.”

“What did I say, Lord Black? This isn’t about you feeling good. This is about you apologising to me. I’m going to fuck you against this door until I come, and you’re going to take it like a good little whore. Then, maybe, if you’re very, very good – if I feel like you’re really sorry – then maybe you get to come too.”

Sirius keened at the prospect of such decadent torture. “Yes, Remus, whatever you want Moony.”

Remus growled at the nickname, and then Sirius heard the rustle of clothes falling away behind him, the sharp cut of a zip being opened, as Remus’ hot, hard cock fell heavy against the soft flesh of his arse. Remus tapped it a few times against him, and then pressed himself between the ridge of Sirius’ cheeks. Rocking in a slow, dirty grind, he glided his cock over Sirius’ unprepared hole with the teasing promise of pressure, before pulling back with a groan.

“Fuck, Sirius, I’m sorry. Condoms are upstairs. Can you hold on here while I get them or do you want to move this to the bedroom?”

“No, wait. I- we don’t need it, I’m safe. Are you?”

“Yeah.” Came Remus’ reply, a little breathless. “Yeah, I’m safe. Still need lube though.”

“I can take it.”

“Sirius.”

“Meant to be teaching me a lesson, aren’t you? I can take it.” He insisted, letting the stubborn edge return.

“Are you sure? If this is too much-”

“I’m sure Remus, now stop fucking stalling and fuck me.” And his goading had exactly the effect he’d intended, as Remus pushed back against him, simultaneously pulling his hips backwards with a rough jerk, as he gave another deep growl.

“Is that supposed to be you being good, Lord Black?” But before he had a chance to answer, Sirius heard Remus sliding down onto his knees behind him and spitting onto his hand. Sirius gasped a little at the cold as Remus pressed a wet finger against his rim, and then followed it up with a hot swipe of his tongue. Then it was all a mess of damp pressure, as Remus wrapped his lips around Sirius’ hole, easing him open with his tongue, lathering him up with his own spit, until he was open enough to insert a finger. Sirius fought against the urge to push back as Remus began pushing in progressing quickly from one finger to three, curving and twisting them in the tight stretch of Sirius’ hole, continuing to stripe his tongue around the rim while Sirius squirmed at the overwhelming pleasure. Sirius’ cock bobbed and leaked precome, but he kept his hands against the door, practically clawing at the wood, as Remus’ tongue swirled at his rim.

“Nngh, fuck, Remus, I- fuck!” He burst out, so desperate to come already when Remus’ fingers rubbed clumsily against his prostate for a split second.

“Remember what I said, Lord Black.” Came the low warning, as Remus pulled his head back to scold him, retracting his fingers at the same time so that where a second ago there had been an overwhelming sensation of fullness and burning touches, Sirius was now empty and aching for Remus to be back inside him. “This is for me. You stopped me coming earlier, so now you don’t get to come until I’m satisfied.”

“Remus…” he groaned. Remus tutted.

“What are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m your needy little whore, Moony.” Sirius answered without missing a beat, as though it were some immutable truth that had always been there, waiting for Remus to release it.

“And do needy little whores get to feel good whenever they want?”

“No, Moony.”

“Think you can take me now?” Remus asked, pressing a finger teasingly back into the hole that was now too stretched out for the single digit to satisfy anything, but still a little too tight for Remus’ swollen erection.

“Yes. Yes, I can be good.” Sirius rushed out, eager for the burning friction of Remus pressing into him. Despite Sirius’ assurances, Remus pushed his three fingers back inside, fucking him open in tantalising preparation that had Sirius back on edge.

“What a good little whore you’re turning out to be, Lord Black.” The fingers disappeared altogether, eliciting a whine of displeasure from Sirius, but then he felt the subtle pressure of Remus’ cock lining up against his hole, slick with what must have been Remus’ own spit. It took everything he had not to press back into it, as Remus flicked the head against his hole a few times, letting it catch teasingly on the rim without sliding in.

“For you, Moony, m’all yours.” It came out as little more than a whimper.

“All mine, sweetheart.” Remus agreed, and then Remus thrust in mercilessly, knocking Sirius forward into the door with a heavy thud. “Colour?”

“G-green, Moony, fuck. Green!”

He paused, giving Sirius a moment to adjust. “Can you take more? Or do you need a moment.”

“More, Remus, please!” He begged, and without needing to be asked twice, Remus drew back his hips and then snapped them all the way forwards, plunging back into Sirius, stretching him wide. He pulled back in long, firm thrusts a few times, before canting forwards in a punishing rhythm, unrelenting as he surged deeper and deeper inside Sirius with each push. Through panting thrusts, the door rattled under Sirius’ arms as he tried desperately to hold himself up under the weight of Remus’ relentless movements, bucking into him over and over again, his thick cock burning a raw stretch deep in his hole with the lack of proper lubrication. It was almost unbearable, the sheer sensation of Remus inside him without anything in the way, the heat of his cock rubbing firmly against Sirius’ walls, pushing in and out in clumsy, hurried movements.

“God, you feel so fucking good, Sirius.” Remus moaned behind him, his hips moving erratically. Remus’ hands moved from Sirius’ hips, wrapping across his torso to pull him flush against his chest. With Remus’ weight pushing him into the door, the tip of his cock caught against the smooth grain of the wood, teasing slight stimulation with each thrust forwards. The door clattered noisily on the latch as Remus pulled out and pushed back in with increasing force each time. All of Sirius’ control was focused on not coming untouched when Remus’ cock clumsily brushed against his prostate. The heavy wood absorbed Sirius’ shouts and he could vaguely hear Remus streaming a slew of curses behind him, but the blood in his ears was rushing in a violent pulse. It was all he could do to stay upright, to stop himself from coming as Remus continued to hammer into him with jerking thrusts. He occasionally hit that perfect spot, but without any consistency or warning, catching Sirius completely off guard with the sudden flickers of pleasure each time.

Sirius’ eyes watered with the burn and the overwhelming pleasure. He could feel Remus speeding up, could feel the way Remus’ thick length was beginning to throb inside him, knew that Remus was close. With exerted effort he clenched around Remus’ cock, letting his hole flutter over the swelling curve of Remus’ erection. Remus let out a cry of surprise.

“Fuck, Sirius, are you trying to make me come faster?” He growled, his movements never slowing. Sirius nodded vigorously, wordless sounds coming out when he opened his mouth, “Trying to make me come so that you can come too?”

“N-no.” He managed to gasp, “Want to make you to feel good.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, Moony, promise.”

“Fuck, Sirius, you’re so good, you’re so fucking good for me sweetheart. You feel so good wrapped around my cock,” Remus continued, hammering into Sirius with each word, “Such a sweet little hole, so tight for me darling, fucking made to take it.”

“Fuck, Remus, I want- I want-” but Sirius held himself back, he wasn’t meant to be asking for anything. He was going to show Remus he could be good. But Remus apparently had other ideas.

“What is it, darling, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to come inside me.”

“Oh fuck,” Remus groaned in surprise, his hips stuttered forwards, plunging deeper than Sirius thought was possible. “Fuck sweetheart, so good for me. Want me to fill you up until you’re dripping with me, darling?”

“Yes, fuck, yes! Please Remus!” Sirius whined, his own cock throbbing and pulsing, slick with drooling precome, so close to bursting. Without a hint of self-control, Remus ground harshly into Sirius, until he felt that tell-tale pulse, and with a final thrust, Remus buried himself deep inside as hot, sticky liquid spilled out in waves. He kept riding through his climax with gentle rocking and deep groans of pleasure, hugging Sirius against him. As he came down from his high, softening but still inside, he wrapped his hand around Sirius’ desperate cock.

“You’ve been so good, love,” he breathed, leaning forward to whisper in Sirius’ ear, “come for me, sweetheart.”

And with barely a touch, Sirius came with a shout, striping white over Remus’ door. Remus worked him through his orgasm, brushing over his cock with his warm, calloused hand, even as the sparks of overstimulation set in. Sirius slumped against the door, Remus finally releasing his spent cock and easing himself out of Sirius, letting dribbles of come leak from his sore hole, still twitching from the aftershocks of his orgasm. Then he was being manoeuvred back to face Remus, who smothered him in kisses, hot, soft lips on his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders.

“That was so good, Sirius, you were so good for me.”

“All’s forgiven then?” Sirius risked, allowing a little mischief into his voice, earning a light huff of laughter from Remus who had returned to brushing soft kisses over his jaw and nuzzling into his hair to nibble at his earlobe. They were quiet for several long moments, holding each other close until Sirius spoke again, keeping his voice low as to not pierce the fragile warmth they’d constructed at the bottom of Remus’ stairs.

“Remus, that thing you said about the money being for ‘other services’… You know I never intended it like that, right?”

Remus pulled his head up from where he’d begun nuzzling into Sirius’ shoulder, and rested his forehead against Sirius’, looking deeply into his eyes with an attempt at a stern expression, only undone by such unmitigated fondness shining through in his gaze that Sirius couldn’t help the slight shudder.

“I know, cariad. I know you’re not like that.”

“Good. Because I never want you to feel like… like…”

“Like a whore?” Remus smirked, and Sirius blushed all over, “You didn’t seem to have any trouble saying that word a minute ago.”

“Shut up.” Sirius muttered without any force, looking away, still embarrassed. He was learning a great deal about himself that he’d never considered before Remus came in and unveiled all these new emotions, new sensations. “But you know, you’re not-” Sirius began to protest but was interrupted by Remus’ lascivious gaze.

“No, I’m not am I?” He grinned, something dark and teasing. “Think that might be you.”

“I…” Sirius’ blush consumed him all over again.

“I’m only teasing Sirius. That was just a bit of roleplay, nothing to be ashamed of, if you liked it. And I’m the one that started it.”

“Right.” Sirius gave a tight-lipped response, afraid to admit exactly how much he had enjoyed the dirty way Remus had spoken to him, how it had made him feel somehow shameful but entirely precious and adored at the same time.

“You don’t… you did enjoy it, right? I know we’ve discussed it a bit, and you’re so good at using the colours for me, but sometimes I worry,” Remus chewed his bottom lip, “Sometimes I’m worried I’m going too far.”

“You’re not. I lo- it feels good. So good, Remus. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Think I might have some idea, actually. Pretty sure it’s similar to what you do to me. It’s like I can’t control myself around you.” He huffed another sigh, “You drive me crazy, Sirius.”

“I really liked when you called me… that.” He admitted softly, and Remus stayed quiet, granting him the space to make his vulnerable confessions, “I liked you using me, liked that I could make you feel good.”

“Good to know. I really enjoyed it too, love.”

“Good.”

“But if that ever changes, you’ll tell me. Right, Sirius?” Remus fixed him with another hard glare until Sirius nodded his agreement, and then Remus let out a deep, satisfied sigh. “So… one other thing we should probably talk about… Are we… I mean, we didn’t use protection so… I’m guessing you’re not- and I’m certainly… are we…”

Sirius couldn’t suppress the amused smile creeping onto his face at Remus’ suddenly flustered expression. “I haven’t been with anyone since, well, since before my father’s funeral. I’ve been tested recently, shortly after I met you, in fact.”

“Right. Right, well, that’s good then.”

“Is it?” Sirius teased.

“Yes, and so you know, I haven’t been with anyone either. Probably for an embarrassing amount of time, but I haven’t been with anyone since I last got tested.”

“That’s good then.” Sirius breathed a light laugh.

“Yes, that’s good.” Remus seemed to be struggling with his expression, a smile fighting to break through even has he tried to remain as neutral and sober as he could manage. “Just to be clear… I’m not planning on being with anyone else in future either.”

“Me neither.”

“Good, well- Good.”

“I think we’ve established that it’s good.”

“It is.” Remus allowed his smile to rise through his heavy blushing features, “Good, I mean.”

“It is.” Sirius smiled back and then sunk into Remus’ hold for a slow, gentle kiss.

“I’m sorry I snapped.” Remus whispered when they parted again.

“Which time?”

“All of them, but don’t push it.” And Sirius fluttered his eyelashes innocently at that, grinning when Remus rolled his eyes. “But I am sorry I got in such a huff. I know it came from a good place, and I know being your tailor makes this a bit more… complicated, but as long as we keep clear boundaries, there’s no reason for that to cause problems.”

“I really am sorry about the money.”

“All’s forgiven now, love. Alright, how about we go see about those adjustments you wanted. If you still want them, that is?” Sirius beamed his response, and Remus’ gentle chuckle was back to its usual softness. “Shower first?”

“Yes please.” And the icy concerns of their earlier interruption could not have been further from his mind in that moment, as Sirius was bundled upstairs to a soaking shower, melting further under the billowing steam and Remus’ draping warmth.

Chapter Text

Sirius might have entirely forgotten about his upcoming red-carpet event, if it hadn’t been for his excitement to wear his newest suit. Layered in shimmering forest green, it was as though Remus’ nimble touch had worked itself into the fabric, wrapping around him in a soothing caress. He hid the rest of himself behind dark lipstick, and heavy-layered patterns of swirling green and gold eyeshadow. To complete the disguise, he threaded gold jewellery in tumbling streams over his ears, throat, and hands, dangling like tiny waterfalls that seemed to seep into the winding gold foil patterns on his suit. That familiar pulse of more, more, more, thudded behind each thread, each gold-link chain, until Sirius was satisfied that he was dripping head-to-toe, smothering the familiar hollow ache that bloomed between his lungs.

He supposed he should be excited. He should be buzzing with the allure of celebrity and glamour that was foreign to his lofty social circles, yet equally grotesque. Instead, hurtling towards London in a limo (that the production company insisted on providing) for several hours, his bleak anticipation of the evening ahead mounted with every mile. Sirius couldn’t be sure if that vacuous itching feeling was from the dread at having to make yet another public appearance, or from missing Remus. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week, since they’d decided to take their discretion a little more seriously following the incident with Peter, though they still spoke nearly every night on the phone.

“You a’right, sir?” The driver asked with an all-too pleasant smile, glancing back into the rearview mirror at Sirius’ no doubt sullen expression.

“Fine, thank you.” Sirius replied tartly, and then looked around for the button to roll up the privacy screen. Finding none, his instincts instead reached between the cushions before realising that the flask he was looking for was still shoved between the seats of his own saloon, and he’d rather thoughtlessly forgotten his monogrammed flask, still tucked under his pillow. An oversight, but perhaps for the better, Sirius reminded himself, ignoring the sudden dryness in his throat that begged for a cool drop of relief. Getting to the point where he was even capable of forgetting his flask had been enough of a struggle.

The driver had continued nattering away despite Sirius’ lack of response, speculating animatedly on the event that Sirius would be attending. Sirius had half a mind to offer up his place, and if he thought there was even a remote possibility of this pock-marked, almost-too-young-to-drive-looking driver to pass as Lord Black, Sirius might have done just that. However, finding no suitable replacement in the time it took for the limo to roll up to the West End, Sirius was left to face the night alone. Donning his widest, most heart-stoppingly dashing smile, he braced himself to step out into the mild early summer’s evening. When the door of the limo opened, a warm breeze unfurled around him for a moment, holding him beneath a wave of silence, until the night broke and crashed over him in a nauseating blur of bursting lights and blaring sound.

Emerging from the dampened, dim interior where he’d been sheltered behind tinted windows and cool black leather, it took a moment before the cacophony of colour separated into the distinct gaudy glitz of the event’s décor and the shuttering of what seemed like a hundred cameras flashing an intermittent sequence. The noise remained fused together in a knot of sound – some of it music, some of it shouts and cries from the excited crowd – all of it flooding Sirius in an unrelenting assault. But as Sirius stepped out and onto the carpet, he jutted his chin in the proud bearing befitting the House of Black; never allowing his winning smile to falter.

Sirius was under no illusion that any of the chaotic shrieks, or cries of ‘over here!’ were directed at him, at least not at first. But it was a small production – so small in fact that Sirius wasn’t entirely sure how the investment proposal had ever ended up in front of the board, let alone been approved. And while the suspense was crackling through the crowd waiting for the actors and actresses to appear, it didn’t take long before he was garnering a little more attention than was strictly appropriate for his role as a mere investor. As he strode towards the theatre entrance, he noticed more than a few flashing cameras turning to follow his path. Not that he let it bother him. Sirius was no stranger to being in the public eye, after all. Better that he was aware of the image he was projecting, better that he could control what the outside world was allowed to see. He turned his charming smile to those that demanded it, permitting himself a polite wave and even the occasional wink in keeping with the carefully curated cavalier playboy image that he had spent his adult life cultivating.

He was directed down the carpet by a member of security and, to his bewilderment, a reporter jumped out from behind the publicity cord, waving lacquered fingernails in his face. His escort shot him a questioning look, and Sirius – gracious as ever – shrugged his acceptance. Turning his attention to the reporter, his smile only widened, threatening to crack the careful composure of his well-made-up face.

“I don’t recall seeing your face on the poster?” The reporter, a wide-grinning man in a violently yellow suit, coaxed with shameless fluttering eyelashes. “And I’m sure I would’ve remembered you.”

“You’re too kind.” Sirius proffered a humble nod of acknowledgement, knowing full-well that his usual assumed aristocracy wouldn’t quite hold water here. But Sirius was prepared for these situations. He knew to carry himself with the dignity befitting the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, knew when to appear proud and haughty, knew when to dial it back into a charming affability. Sirius was nothing if not the perfect picture of well-practiced politeness.

“And who do you play?” The reporter prompted, apparently a little disappointed at Sirius’ measured decorum – perhaps he had hoped for him to become flustered, or to gush over the paltry display of coquettish flattery.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m merely an investor. I do believe the actors and actresses will be making their appearances in no short time, if-” but before Sirius could excuse himself, the reporter was interrupting.

“Well you’re certainly dressed the part. I absolutely adore your make-up,” the man insisted.

“Thank you.” Sirius answered this compliment with a touch more sincerity, being that his makeup was in direct defiance of Walburga’s preference, and so any compliment towards that, or his ‘garish baubles’, as she called his jewellery, sat a little easier with him.

“And your suit,” The reporter continued, and a genuine smile almost broke through, but Sirius was already a little too overcomposed for any honest trace of emotion to break through to the surface, “It’s absolutely stunning. Who are you wearing?”

Sirius’ lips curled in a little satisfied smirk for a moment. He pictured Remus’ face when he told him his suit had been asked after, imagined his flustered blush at the compliment, imagined teasing him with the information that the person who asked had been outrageously flirting with him. Some small part of him was a little curious to see whether Remus was even capable of jealousy.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information. It’s a small boutique far from here, so I doubt you’d have heard of them.”

“Ooh, I see we have a man of mystery! Well, you certainly fit the role of the tall, dark, handsome stranger, don’t you? Perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to see you on the silver screen yet.” the reporter winked at him, and Sirius flashed his grin a little wider, ignoring the slight strain of his jaw as he opposed every reflex in his body. “Well, enjoy the screening, Mr…”

“Lord Black.” Sirius supplied with another courteous nod, allowing a sneer to tighten his smile ever so slightly as he turned back towards the theatre, relieved to be free from the questioning.

Sirius made it only a few more steps before every muscle in his body seized, as though he’d been gripped by an icy chill licking white heat against his skin.

And suddenly it all made sense. The Black family didn’t invest in such frivolous endeavours as entertainment. Certainly not some unheard of, liberal-minded indie flic that was unlikely to return any meaningful profit. Which meant that the Blacks were profiting in some other way from this investment, and Sirius had been a fool not to realise sooner.

Because there, turning towards him with a viciously wide smile in a cocktail dress the most hideous shade of purple, was Lady Cecelia Greengrass.

“Sirius, you made it!” She all but squealed, reaching out to clasp his arm, before Sirius could take any ungainly movement to stop her. With an inward grimace, he checked over his shoulder and saw that the reporter, as well as a number of other cameras had begun curiously capturing the pair of them together.

“Lady Cecelia. What an… unexpected surprise.”

“Oh, well, it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” She dismissed with a flick of her golden curls, practically dragging Sirius down the remainder of the carpet with her talons.

With a slight restrained huff and the tiniest quirk of his eyebrow, Sirius inquired with a slight venomous edge to his tone, “No? And why’s that?”

“My uncle’s the producer of course.” She chirped, happily ignoring the undisguised disdain in Sirius’ expression. “Oh, and by the way, he wanted me to thank you for your generous sponsorship.”

Sirius cast his mind back to the cursory glance he had given the proposal when he had been asked to affix his signature along with a number of other papers that had crossed his desk at some point. Yaxley. Cecelia’s mother’s brother was Yaxley, one of Cygnus’ pocketed lackeys. So that was the deal his mother had made. They back the production, and Sirius is ensured a public, well-documented appearance with an unambiguously attached woman at his side. Beneficial for all parties involved. Except for Sirius, but when had that ever mattered before.

That familiar constriction took hold of his chest, a hollow ache spreading dark tendrils as it attempted to protrude from the space beneath his lungs across his chest and up his throat, black ink staining white satin. He wanted to be sick. But he held his careful composure, turning a gracious smile towards Lady Cecelia. She began introducing him around as they entered the theatre, and Sirius could only grit his teeth and smile as more familiar names and their odious faces made themselves apparent.

~~~

It was after midnight when Sirius returned home, weighed down by excruciating hours of being forced to broker smiles and exchange cordialities through gritted teeth with people he loathed. He had survived the event and even endured the obligatory after-party resisting the mounting urge to drink, if only because he couldn’t risk letting his guard down in that nest of vipers without James or Dorcas to look out for him. He had returned to his aloof exterior for the remainder of the evening, doing his best to discourage the inane chatter of the over-excited woman who clung to his arm the whole night. She had been careful not to give him any opportunity to escape this time. The meek, coquettish thing that had been little more than an irksome shadow at Grimmauld House had entirely vanished, and Sirius could only conclude that the whole act had been for Walburga’s benefit. Cecelia certainly had no semblance of shyness this evening, openly fawning over Sirius, attempting to lure him into increasingly compromising positions, while cameras and media presence abounded. Sirius had resisted as delicately as he could manage, in the end escaping with only a harangued kiss on the cheek when he insisted on returning home at the end of the night, and not back to the nearby hotel as Cecelia had been adamant he should.

By the time he returned home, finally able to expel the tension that had been gradually piling up over the course of the night, Sirius was raging up a storm. He rang the bell to Minerva’s private rooms from the study several times before she emerged, panicked and more than a little vexed. She had been sleeping, and her hair was coiled up into a red gingham nightcap, which she wore to bed along with her matching dressing gown and slippers. Her spectacles were perched low on her nose, behind which she mounted a scathing glare of disapproval. Sirius seethed past the intimidating expression.

“What is this?” He demanded, slamming onto the desk the proposal that he had unburied after an hour spent tearing through a mountain of carefully categorised paperwork, now carpeting the polished floor of the study.

“Lord Black, if you will please keep your voice down. It is the middle of the night and many of your staff are trying to sleep.”

“I’ll raise my voice if I bloody want to, McGonagall.” He spat. “Tell me what this is.”

Minerva pursed her lips in a thin line, but she lowered her gaze to the offending document. “That is the investment proposal for the premiere you were at.” Her tired expression grew wearier once she realised that Sirius knew exactly what he was holding. “Now, if you’re quite finished-”

“No I’m not fucking finished! I’m actually just getting bloody started if I’m-”

“Lord Black.” She reprimanded without raising her voice, but it was just as cutting as if she had, “I will not tolerate being spoken to in this manner. If you have some need of me, in spite of this ungodly hour, I will be more than happy to assist once you are ready to show me the respect that I know full well you are capable of. Now, if you please, what has gotten you so worked up in the middle of the night?”

Sirius scowled, but the reprimand had been enough to shake him out of his blind rage. His voice was low and vicious when he spoke.

“Did my mother ask you to make me agree to this?” Even as he retained his composure, cool and imposing, Sirius trembled with the rippling undercurrent of fury. “Did- did you know?”

Or perhaps it was fear. Fear that his mother’s influence extended to one of the few people he trusted most. Fear that even in his own home, after all this time, he had never been safe from her reach. Fear that he had never escaped. He couldn’t contain the growing panic as his thoughts spiralled towards their logical conclusion. And then came the tears of frustration, balling up in his throat, tightening in his chest as he struggled to breathe, the edges of his vision tinging black, his head swimming in dizzying nausea.

“Lord Black. Lord Black- Sirius!” Minerva’s voice broke through from a distance, and the next thing he knew, Sirius was in the armchair, with Minerva’s careful gaze unblinking in front of him. “Sirius, are you quite alright?”

He did his best to bring Minerva’s concerned face back into focus as his breathing calmed. Minerva drew up to her full height and her eyes were brimming with sympathy as she watched him closely.

“Sirius, are you alright?” Minerva repeated. Sirius could only nod. Seemingly satisfied, she continued, “As to your question, the papers arrived with some of the other proposals that the board approved. However, I apologise. If this was some orchestration to place you in a difficult position, I should have found out much sooner. You were inadequately prepared because I failed to do my due diligence as your housekeeper.”

Sirius finally relaxed, every muscle unclenching, the fear relinquishing its grip on his bones. He found his voice again. Though it was little more than a whisper, he could tell Minerva heard every word. “You couldn’t have known. my mother, she… I’m sorry for raising my voice at you.”

“That’s quite alright, sir. Given the circumstances, your reaction was understandable, if unwarranted.” Minerva conceded, her stern demeanour returning to cover that stark kindness. Of course Minerva didn’t know. Of course she wasn’t conspiring with Walburga. He nodded mutely, acknowledging Minerva’s forgiveness, and slumped in the chair.

“You must be tired. Why don’t you get some sleep, sir? Unless there’s anything else you need at this moment?”

“No…” he mumbled, “No, I’m alright. Sleep sounds good. Thank you, Minerva.”

“A pleasure, Lord Black. I’ll see to it that you are not disturbed in the morning. We can go over further details of this unfortunate circumstance once you have had a decent rest.” Sirius nodded again, and mustered the strength to steer himself up to his room. He only got as far as removing his jacket, before he collapsed onto his bed, weighed down by green and gold and the heavy satin sheets. As sleep overcame him, he found solitary comfort in the resounding thought that at least the night was over.

~~~

He had been asleep for maybe an hour when the phone rang and Sirius had never known four words could strike such fear.

“Sirius, get over here.” Sharp shards burrowed into his chest.

“James? What is it?” He barely managed to choke out, still half-asleep and disarmed by the panic in James’ usually steady voice.

“Sirius, it’s going to be okay, but you need to get here now.” Sirius knew the urgency in his tone, knew it could only be something dreadful for the usually unflappable James to be so shaken up.

“James what is it? What’s wrong? Are your parents okay?”

“Fine, Sirius, they’re fine, just- just get here as soon as you can. It’s- fuck, Sirius-”

“Alright. Alright, James, I’m on my way.”

The call ended, and by the time Sirius was awake enough to know what was happening, he was in the back of the saloon, already well on the way to Peverell Estate. He stared at the back of Frank’s sleep-ruffled hair, while the light of the streetlamps striped over the leather seats in a continuous pattern of blinking lines. With each strobe of light, Sirius’ heart grew closer to his throat, seeming to expand and swell in a thrumming pulse of worry raising goosebumps on his skin. He shook his leg with impatience, drumming his fingers against the sideboard of the door, only barely resisting the temptation to pull the handle and hurtle himself from the car, as if that would somehow get him there faster. Frank, at least, seemed to understand the sense of urgency, as they bolted down the motorway breaking every speed limit.

James was waiting at the door when they skidded up the drive. The walk from the car to the Potters’ door seemed an impossibly long stretch and every step on the dry crunch of the gravel driveway echoed loudly against the clear night sky. Neither man spoke, but the wide-eyed look that James shot him as he led him inside did nothing to assuage his concern. They paused at the threshold of the Potters’ reception room – the door of which was never usually closed, but was now shut firm. James pushed it open, nodding for Sirius to go through ahead of him.

Sirius saw red.

Red everywhere. In his eyes, on his brain, in scattered droplets on Effie’s favourite white rug, spilled over the couch, soaking into the satin cushion covers, and worst of all, gushing from a familiar crown of matted black hair.

“Reggie…” Sirius croaked, once he’d found his voice, still frigid at the sight of the shapeless mound that was his little baby brother, hunched in on himself on the edge of the Potters’ sofa, blood spilling from a gash on the top of his head. Then the rage shot through him flying in hot red sparks from his tongue, “What did she do to you?”

“Sirius, please, you need to stay calm.” In the midst of all the red, Sirius hadn’t noticed Effie sitting close by, holding a blood-stained cloth and a bucket of water at her feet, swirling crimson.

“I will fucking not!” He roared, never meaning to lash out at Effie, never meaning to turn his hatred for his own mother against anyone else. Nobody deserved that. Least of all Effie, who had done all she could to be a second mother to Sirius from the moment he had appeared at their door in a not dissimilar state to the way Regulus was now.

“Sirius-” James lurched forward, to comfort or restrain Sirius, he wasn’t sure.

“Get off me,” he spat, the anger swelling up in his throat and eyes, tears blearing his vision into a kaleidoscope of red. “I’m going to kill her. I’m going to fucking kill her.”

His feet seemed to already know what he was doing before the words even left his mouth, turning back the way he’d come, ready to get straight back in his car and drive all the way to Surrey to choke that miserable hag with his own bare hands. But wherever his body was taking him, Sirius was stopped by James’ vicelike grip on his arm.

“Sirius. Leave it.” Sirius’ head snapped back, ready to tear James’ words from his throat, but James spoke again with a firm determination before he could, “I promise she won’t get away with this. I promise. But Regulus needs you here.”

“He won’t let us take him to hospital.” Came Effie’s voice behind him, strong and unshaking even in the small way it drifted out, discharging the vitriol that grew thick in the air.

Of course not. Because if he went to hospital, there would be questions. If he went to hospital, word would get back to the family. If they went to a hospital, she would find him.

“He can’t go to a hospital.”

“Sirius, he needs medical attention.” Effie pleaded with a familiar sternness that Sirius recognised from James when he thought Sirius was being unreasonable. But it wasn’t going to work this time.

“No. He’s not going.” Sirius snapped, though his anger was quieter now. He had calmed a little under James firm hold and Effie’s gentle tones, and he was able to clear a path through the red to some semblance of thought beyond his need to obliterate that foul woman from existence. “But I might know someone who can help… James can I use your phone?”

“Of course.” Despite James’ questioning glances, Sirius didn’t speak again until the dial tone had clicked into an answer.

“Hello?” At the sound of Remus’ sleep-thick yawn, the pricking at his eyes returned and Sirius needed Remus in that moment like he had never needed anyone. He did his best to speak clear through the resurgent tears that threatened to break.

“Remus-” It came out in a broken sob.

“Sirius? What is it? What’s happened?” Remus’ questions sprang out in a rush of urgent concern, the drowsiness vanishing from his voice in an instant.

“Could you… I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to ask-”

“Sirius, anything, what do you need?”

“Do you think you might be able to bring Dr Pomfrey to James’ house? I know it’s ridiculously late, and I know she’s probably with your dad, but if she might be able to spare an hour or two…”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. It’s- it’s my brother. He can’t go to a hospital, our mother, she’ll-” Sirius voice caught, the words lodged beneath the swell in his throat.

“Of course, Sirius. Of course we’ll come right away.”

“Thank you. I’ll send Frank.”

“That’ll take twice as long. I’ll drive, I know the address.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m coming, Sirius. We’ll be there soon.” And the dial tone rang out to empty again. Sirius clung onto that hollow sound for a moment longer, already missing Remus’ steady calm and not quite prepared to return to his brother, hunched over and broken. Sirius felt a firm, reassuring grip on his shoulder.

“C’mon, mate. Reg needs you.” Sirius nodded without a word and allowed James to steer him back into the lounge.

Regulus had moved to sit up on the Potters’ couch, crouching his head into his knees and answering Effie’s questions with various grunts and other equally unhelpful noises. Despite this, Effie looked far from exasperated as Sirius might have been in her place. She sat in interminable patience, dabbing a damp cloth against the wound on Regulus’ head, muttering soft intermittent words of reassurance. Regulus didn’t pull away, so whatever Effie was saying seemed to be helping, or at least not making anything worse. Everything else was silent. It was almost serene, the way the cosy lamplight cast scattered shadows around the soft shapes of old, beloved furnishings. If it weren’t for the blood, there would almost be something heart-warming about the four of them gathered in the warm, welcoming shelter of the Potters’ living room.

Sirius crouched down on the floor on the other side of Regulus’ legs, and leaned back against the arm of the sofa, shutting his eyes and wishing the whole night away, imagining he could open his eyes and find himself at home in bed.

The minutes ticked by in agonising slowness, time creeping like it had no place to be but right there in that lounge, nestled between the old creaking coffee table – looking out of place topped with a fresh vase of pink and yellow roses – and the four of them, silent and tense save for Effie’s occasional reassuring murmurs. It was quiet enough that Sirius could make out some of what she was saying, something about “tell me if it hurts” and “Regulus, you’ve got to stay awake, dear”, invariably met with another grunt to show that Regulus had heard and acknowledged what she was saying, but never more than that. Finally, as the minutes dripped past the hour, the doorbell rang out. Sirius jolted with a start and Effie made to get up, but James got there before both of them, disappearing to answer the door. It was a sudden flurry of movement as Dr Pomfrey came bustling in, followed closely behind by Remus. Sirius’ gaze snapped up from where his emptiness was weighing him down in his spot at the foot of the sofa. Remus, whose eyes had landed on him as soon as he entered the room, took two long strides and crouched down next to him, scooping Sirius into his arms, encasing him in his solid presence, and filling his lungs.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” Remus whispered into his hair. From where he had buried himself in Remus’ shirt, Sirius could faintly make out the sounds of Dr Pomfrey running through some particulars with Effie and Regulus, asking where he’d been injured, what the extent of the injuries were, and how he was feeling.

“Thank you.” He muffled into Remus’ shoulder. He let Remus continued to stroke his hair a little while longer before extracting himself to aid Dr Pomfrey in whatever way he could. He suspected it wouldn’t be much.

“He’s got a small laceration on his skull. Looks like he was hit with a blunt object.” Dr Pomfrey informed Sirius as he came to kneel next to her, and his blood rose with that same simmering fury when he’d first seen Regulus’ injury. “Thankfully, it looks worse than it is. There’s a lot of blood, but it’s not too deep. I can give him some stitches now, and it should heal up in about a week or so, but they’ll need to be kept clean and I’ll need to come back to take the stitches out.” Dr Pomfrey’s calm authority went some way to finally soothing the clamouring nerves that had been swarming Sirius since James had called.

“Okay. Okay that’s… okay.” Sirius nodded in determination, utterly helpless to do anything but listen to Dr Pomfrey’s instructions.

Then she turned back to Regulus, “Regulus, was it? Now I need you to turn your head up for me, I’d like to have a quick look at your eyes, if you can do that for me now then?”

Regulus didn’t move for several minutes, but Dr Pomfrey waited patiently. Finally, as if in slow-motion, Regulus’ head raised from where it had been buried in his lap and Sirius had to hold back the sudden shout of anger that rolled up into his throat at the sight of the shiny black bruise and the swelling welt around his eye.

“I’m going to kill her.” Sirius seethed beneath his breath.

“You don’t even know what happened.” Regulus snapped, as Dr Pomfrey pulled out a small torch and flicked it between his eyes. They were the first words Regulus had spoken to Sirius since he’d arrived. The first words Regulus had said to him in years that hadn’t first been scripted by his mother or at the very least tamed into some sanitised version of the real Regulus – the Regulus that had, once, loved Sirius. Sirius could only give a bitter scoff, everything else trapped beneath the building pressure in his throat.

“No signs of concussion.” Dr Pomfrey concluded before Sirius could form a retort, “He can sleep, but you’ll need to keep an eye on him and wake him up every few hours to make sure everything’s still looking okay. Ask him a few simple questions: his name, age, the date, things like that. You’ll need some ice on that bruise there now as well then, Regulus.”

“Right.” Sirius nodded, swallowing down the argument that he was itching to have as the ache and fear of the night contorted into frustration towards his thankless brother who even with all these people worrying over him was more concerned with protecting their mother. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” She smiled softly, continuing to check Regulus over for any further injuries, pressing lightly around the bruise to determine the extent of the swelling. Regulus flinched but bit down on his lip to keep any noises clamped in.

Dr Pomfrey continued to fuss over Regulus without a word as time continued to pass in a dense silence, though slightly lighter now it had been determined that Regulus would be okay. She carefully stitched and dressed the cut on his skull, then wrapped a small bag of ice that Effie had fetched in a cradle around his eye. Once all this was done, she made the rest of them leave so that she could talk to Regulus alone. For all the good that would do her, Sirius thought. The rest of them waited outside the reception room in stifled silence, only broken when the large grandfather clock down the end of the hall struck the hour. It was four in the morning. At some point, Sirius felt a hand reaching up to squeeze his arm, and from the small fingers he assumed it must have been Effie, but he was too busy glaring a hole into the sealed door.

Eventually Dr Pomfrey emerged and startled slightly at the four pairs of anxious eyes staring at her from the dark hallway, but she recovered quickly, setting a firm expression on her face. “Right, that’s me done here. He’s going to be fine, but do as I told you, and keep an eye on him. And you call me if anything changes in the slightest. Remus, will you be a dear and help me carry these back to the car? Time I ought to be getting back to your father.”

Sirius nodded and thanked her again, but before he could let himself think too much, he reached out to wrap a tugging hand around Remus’ wrist.

“I’m sorry to put you out even more, Dr Pomfrey, but would you mind if my chauffeur took you back in my car? Only, I’d like it if Remus could stay for a bit?” Sirius paused, turning belatedly to check with Remus, “If you’re able to?”

“Of course.” Was Remus’ hushed reply, “I’ll stay as long as you need, Sirius. Uhm, Poppy, sorry I can drive you and then come back, if you’d rather?”

“Don’t be silly, love. Where’s the sense in that now? Besides, I’ve never been driven by a chauffeur before. I’ll be glad to take you up on your offer, Sirius, thank you.”

“Anytime, Dr Pomfrey. I’m so sorry for dragging you out of bed in the middle of the night. Is Mr Lupin alright?”

“Not to worry, love, I’m up all hours anyway and don’t you worry about Mr Lupin, he’ll be quite alright for a little while now then, won’t he. And I thought I told you to call me Poppy, now didn’t I.”

“Thank you, Poppy.”

“It’s nothing at all, love. You look after each other, now, won’t you?” Sirius wasn’t sure if she was talking about him and Regulus, or him and Remus, and supposed it was some combination of all the above. He smiled gratefully, and Remus helped her out to the car with the assortment of medical equipment she’d brought with her. Sirius returned to the reception room with James, Effie having disappeared somewhere in the interim. The course of the night began to sink back into his bones and he felt heavy enough to collapse then and there, yet simultaneously as though he might float away if he didn’t tether himself down.

Brushing aside everything else, Sirius planted himself back down next to Regulus who hadn’t yet returned to burying his head in his knees, and instead fixed his gaze on a red spot on the rug. There was the creaking huff of fabric as James collapsed himself onto the sofa opposite.

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Are you going to come live with me?”

“Doubt it.”

“Great. Good chat, Reggie.” Sirius sighed, defeated.

“Anytime, brother.” Regulus sneered in return. James, who had been watching the whole exchange warily from the opposite sofa, exhaled audible relief when Remus re-entered the room. Effie came back a moment later, her arms piled high with blankets and pillows.

“You get some sleep, Mum,” James said, standing up to bundle the blankets into his own arms, “We can look after Reggie between us.”

“Alright, dear. But you come get me if you need anything at all.” And then she cast a stern glance over the rest of them, “That goes for all of you. I’m a light sleeper, so don’t be worried to wake me up. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Mum,” James answered at the same time Sirius replied, “Yes, Effie.” Remus mumbled a bashful reply, and even Regulus seemed compelled into voicing his agreement. With a soft, sad smile and a twinkle in her eye, Effie bid them good night.

“Right, I’ll go make us some coffee, shall I?” James bounded back out the room before anyone could answer. Remus hovered for a moment, a little uncertain, and eventually resolved to take James’ place on the sofa opposite, silent support in Sirius’ periphery. He probably ought to have introduced him to Regulus, only he didn’t quite know how to explain why he’d asked his tailor to stay overnight, and didn’t have the capacity for any further explanations on how Remus was actually so much more than that, so he ignored the awkwardness, shrugged off the instinctive guilt nagging at him for his bad manners, and drew strength from Remus’ quiet presence nearby.

~~~

When Sirius woke, it was still dark. From the cold trembling sweat and his racing pulse, he knew he’d been having a nightmare but whatever it was had already receded from his grasp leaving only the undercurrent of adrenaline. He was confused for a moment as to why his feather-down pillows were so lumpy, only to realise his pillow was in fact Remus’ lap, and that he had been nuzzling into the soft of Remus’ stomach.

After Dr Pomfrey left, Sirius had fought to keep his eyes open and prod Regulus awake every time he was still for a bit too long. James had only managed to convince him to sleep when it was already almost morning. He couldn’t have been asleep for long, and concluded it must be near enough dawn by the sound of the solitary bird floating through the wafting airy white curtains that cloaked the bay window overlooking the Potters’ driveway. The light had not yet broken through, though, and it took him a moment to adjust to the dark room.

Turning onto his back, his sleep-blurred eyes crinkled a smile at the sight of Remus slumped forward, head drooping and snoring softly. Sirius’ insides softened further when the fluffy tuft of hair over Remus’ eyes rustled at his light snuffle. He turned again onto his other side to look at Regulus on the other sofa, only to be caught by a pair of grey eyes staring back into his own. He blinked the slow, daft smile off his face, but Regulus’ expression didn’t change from the blank, unreadable stare. Doing his best not to wake Remus, Sirius picked himself up and shuffled over next to James, where he’d fallen asleep on the floor by Regulus’ feet.

“Hey.” Sirius whispered. They had always been better at this – quiet words whispered in the dark, small fears voiced in the silent hours of the morning, gentle reassurances when everyone else was asleep, no risk of being caught.

“Hey.” Regulus whispered back, and that was a start.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” He answered, rolling his eyes. Sirius fumbled around his still sleep-riddled brain for some way to continue, but to his surprise, Regulus got there first, “So… is he your…”

“Yeah.” Sirius mumbled cautiously, “He’s mine.”

“Okay.”

“Is it?” Regulus was quiet for a while, still wearing the same undiscernible expression as he stared over Sirius’ shoulder to where Remus slept on.

“I never cared, you know.” Regulus’ words were measured and cautious, “About you being… with other men.”

“Oh.”

“I’d worked it out before that whole nasty business with the papers.” Regulus had obviously inherited a penchant for euphemism from their mother, along with those accusing grey eyes. “For a while I even thought that you and James…”

“No. No, no, absolutely not, no thank you.” Sirius did his best to convey his outraged horror while still keeping to a low murmur. Regulus snorted, a small bitter snort but with a light touch of humour that Sirius hadn’t realised Regulus was still clinging on to. Then they fell back into silence.

“I thought it was you.” Regulus said after a few minutes.

“Huh?” Sirius managed eloquently.

“The news leak. I thought you were in on it, with your boyfriend.”

“Oh. No. All him.”

“I worked that out too, eventually. Nobody really told me anything at the time. I only even knew that you’d tried to- that you’d… been in the hospital, when you didn’t come back at Christmas. You’d turned eighteen in the meantime and mother told me that you’d moved to Godric Hall and wouldn’t be coming back.”

“You… you could’ve said something. After, I mean.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me after what I said…” and then in a small, soft voice that Sirius had thought Regulus had long since outgrown, he added, “I thought you hated me.”

“Oh Reg,” Sirius sighed, pained by the sight of him, pained by the distance, pained by the years of such pointless misunderstanding. “I could never hate you. I’ve never hated you. I hate that I hurt you, but you’re my brother. I love you.”

“Oh do shut up.” Regulus snapped in a hushed tone to cover his own bashful reaction. Despite everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, Sirius felt a lightness needle between his ribs, sparked by the bitter snark that had always hidden the love between them, long before either brother had known the words to express it.

“It’s alright, I still struggle with it too. James says it constantly and it’s always so incredibly awful to hear.”

“It is awful.” Regulus grunted in agreement.

“But it’s also nice. To be loved.”

“I suppose.” Regulus shot another glance over Sirius’ shoulder to where Remus was still snoozing. Sirius turned to look over his shoulder with a small smile. “Does he love you?”

“I… don’t know. We’ve not quite got round to that part.”

“But you love him?” Regulus pressed.

“I think… maybe, I could.”

“That’s good then.” Regulus shrugged, with a stifled yawn.

“Yeah, reckon it might be.” Sirius let his slow smile emerge, more than a little touched to find that Regulus cared. “And as for you, little brother. I will get you to admit that you love me. If it’s the last thing you do. But that means you have to not go dying on me in the meantime, alright?”

Regulus gave a disgruntled groan, a little too loudly this time and James snorted himself awake with a slurred ‘whas’happening’.

“Nothing, James, go back to sleep.” Sirius needn’t have bothered answering because James was snoring again after a moment. There was another, longer silence where Sirius thought he might be on the verge of falling asleep again with his spirit feeling lighter, easier. But a new doubt burrowed its way into a wakeful thought.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“When?”

“Today, or last night I suppose. Why come here?”

“It’s where you used to come before you left…”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go. You could have come to me.”

“I thought you might be angry… wasn’t sure you’d want me.”

“Regulus-”

“Besides, I thought you’d probably go on a murder spree if you saw me like this.”

“I mean, I would’ve, yeah.”

“So…”

“I still wish you’d come to me first.”

“Alright, well, next time-”

“Absolutely fucking not. There’s not going to be a next time, Regulus.”

“It’s not like I can stop her.”

“You’re not going back there. If you won’t stay with me, stay here.”

“Sirius…”

“Reggie, it’s not safe. Please-”

“I’ll think about it.” Regulus gave as near a shrug as he could manage on his side and then rolled over to face the back cushions of the sofa, apparently deciding the conversation was done.

~~~

Sirius had drifted off again at some point, and when he next woke, his head was next to Regulus’, still soundly sleeping. Sirius glanced over his brother’s peaceful expression, unable to remember the last time he’d seen it without the shadow of his scrunched-up snarky disdain. With reluctance, he shook Regulus awake to ask the date, and then left him to drift off again.

Sitting up, Sirius took in the room, now otherwise empty. It must have been around noon, the dust-motes sprinkling the golden afternoon air making the atmosphere feel less dense and oppressive than it had the night before. It was less red-tinted fury, and more russet-coloured warmth, and a hushed sleepiness blanketed the house after the late night. He followed the floating sound of voices through warm, cream-coloured rooms, brightened by sunshine and the residual smatterings of love left in every corner by its inhabitants. Hearing the quiet hum of murmuring from the kitchen, he crept close to the slightly cracked door, avoiding making himself known.

“… here, Remus.” James was saying.

“I’m glad too,” Was Remus’ soft reply, “But I wish… seeing what she did to him, I can’t imagine-” but he cut himself off.

“What’s important is he’s safe now.” Came James steady assurance. There was a pause, and Sirius realised they weren’t talking about Regulus anymore when James asked, “You really love him, don’t you?”

Sirius craned to listen closer, despite knowing that this quiet conversation was not meant for his ears, but nevertheless willed himself to hear better through sheer force of concentrated effort. It didn’t matter, because Remus didn’t answer.

“Sorry, sorry.” James laughed off the tense silence with that easy manner of his. “I’m not the one you should be saying that to for the first time. So you know, though, I’m glad he has you.”

“Thanks James,” Remus huffed, “Really. If you hadn’t sent him to me… let’s just say I’m very thankful you did.” Every weary thought that had been weighing on Sirius over the course of the night was carried away by Remus’ frank confession, leaving a bulb of warmth where the knotted anxiety had been.

“Don’t be daft, you’re the best tailor I know. I’d been looking for an excuse…” Sirius didn’t stay to hear the rest of what James was saying, taking delicate steps back towards the reception room before he could be discovered eavesdropping. He took care to tread heavily on his return to the kitchen, swinging the door open with a bang that was as loud as the beam spreading from cheek-to-cheek.

“Sirius, you’re up.” Remus startled at the noise, and seeing Sirius’ grin, his own smile grew wide in surprise.

James eyed him with suspicion, “You look… chipper?”

“Hmm, well Regulus is looking better today and I think I almost nearly got him to agree not to go back there.” Sirius returned, as happy as ever, and pulled Remus into a hug, smacking a wet kiss against his cheek. “Plus, you’re here. Thank you for staying.”

“S’pose I’m just part of the furniture, am I?” James grumbled, but he was ignored.

“Of course, cariad. I’m glad you’re both okay.” Remus leant down slightly to plant a less sloppy peck on Sirius’ mouth, and his arms came to wrap around his waist.

“Yeah, I think we might be.” And Sirius allowed himself to expel any remnants of worry on a deep outward breath. It was a simple thing, feeling at ease in the Potters’ kitchen. That large, brightly painted room, neat but unpolished like everything in it: A thin crack tracing around Effie’s favourite mug that she refused to replace, the mismatched splotch of paint where James had once accidentally overpowered the contents of the blender onto the ceiling, the stone-blue coffee pot that Monty had insisted they needed and never once used because he much preferred tea. Amongst these little traces of a home well-lived in, he nestled against Remus and allowed himself to believe that maybe, possibly, everything might be okay.

Remus and James made light conversation around him, and eventually began getting together an assorted breakfast. As they made to return to the reception room to wake up Regulus, Remus tugged lightly at Sirius’ wrist, a silent request to remain for a moment longer. “Um… Sirius, sorry I know this isn’t the best time, but I know I’ll keep wondering about it, and I didn’t want to say anything last night when… but now you’re feeling a bit better- but if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll understand, I know it’s selfish of me to-”

Sirius blinked up in alarm at the sudden stammering onslaught. Perhaps ‘okay’ was still a little way off.

“You can tell me anything, you know that Remus.”

“Well, I- and this isn’t me blaming you for anything, whatever you say I’ll believe you, Sirius, but I couldn’t help noticing- I wasn’t sure if you maybe were wearing… but it wasn’t your usual scent, and I-” He gave a frustrated sigh as the words continued to fall in a disordered jumble, “Perfume. You smell like someone else’s perfume.”

“Shit.” The rest of the night came reeling back to the forefront of his multi-coloured headache.

“Should I be worried?” Remus gave a light, uneasy chuckle.

“No! Well, yes, but it’s not- It was my mother.”

“You’re wearing your mother’s perfume?” Remus frowned, and Sirius would have found it comical under different circumstances.

“No, Remus,” Sirius huffed, “I am bloody well not wearing my mother’s perfume. It’s Lady Cecelia’s perfume. She was clinging to me all night.”

“Oh.”

“No- no, not like that. Trust me, it was the last thing I wanted. Turns out the whole event was some elaborate set up between me and this odious woman that my darling mother is apparently determined to pair me off with. And Lady Cecelia has gotten it into that helium balloon she calls a brain that we’re destined to be together or some equally inane tripe.”

“Do you… Is that something…” Remus seemed to be struggling to get the words out, so Sirius saved him the trouble.

“I’m pretty sure we already had this discussion, but to be absolutely clear – I have absolutely no interest in being involved with anyone who isn’t you, Remus.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Yes, it is rather.” Sirius snorted a chuckle at Remus’ undisguised relief. “These things usually go away by themselves, so I didn’t think- well, regardless, between Cecelia’s grand delusions and my mother’s dastardly schemes to have me married off as soon as possible, it’s becoming more of a problem than I realised. I am going to find a way to put a stop to it, I promise.”

“You know, I’m really starting to not like your mother.” Remus groused, and Sirius snorted at the understatement and its accompanying petulant pout that was so unlike Remus, but so like Sirius that he suspected it might be an incidental by-product of their time together. At that thought, something pleasant surged from beneath all the bitterness of the previous night. It became sweeter still when Remus added, low and sincere, “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

There was intention behind Remus’ vague platitude, the unspoken understanding that Remus was talking about more than the trouble with Cecelia, more than what amounted to a small inconvenience in comparison to what came after. More, even, than that nightmare of Regulus bleeding out onto Effie’s rug. The unspoken understanding that last night was one incident among many endured by both brothers more often than they cared to remember. Remus’ arms squeezed around him, tightening as if he could erase everything that had happened that night and all the years before by holding Sirius there in that moment, in the safety of his arms and the Potters’ kitchen.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Sirius whispered into Remus’ shoulder.

“S’okay, I wasn’t really worried… confused, more like. I know you wouldn’t- I trust you, Sirius.”

 “Good, well- good.”

“Yes, it is rather.” Remus teased, and Sirius rolled his eyes at the mocking tone of the man who had only minutes ago been a tumbling fountain of anxiety. But he was Sirius’ tumbling fountain of anxiety, and so Sirius craned up to draw more kisses from Remus’ lips in the cosy quiet of the Potters’ kitchen.

~~~

The rest of the day passed by in a dozy blur of coffee and naps and the absurd quizzing of Regulus over the fact of his own existence, which he passed with flying colours. The minute twenty-four hours had passed, Regulus had snapped that if another person so much as asked him his favourite colour he would make sure they could never ask a question again. His threat, though non-specific as to his methods, was nonetheless effective at ending the routine questioning. Sirius did finally introduce Remus and Regulus properly, and despite the uncertain hesitation between the two, there seemed to be a quiet acceptance between them. It was almost nice to have his brother, his near-enough brother, and his… Remus all together under one roof, if it hadn’t been for the circumstances that had brought them there.

Eventually, Remus had to return to his shop. Sirius stayed for another few nights, hoping he might be able to keep Regulus there by sheer force of will. In all, Regulus seemed in better spirits, more compliant to Sirius’ suggestions and fussing. He refused, however, to completely agree to all of Sirius’ demands, chief among which was the insistence that he move in with the Potters. He had already made several attempts to get Regulus to accompany him back to Godric Hall, but Regulus was quick to point out that his being there would be an open invitation for Walburga to turn up and force either one or both of them to return to Grimmauld House.

Effie had done her best to impress upon Sirius on the importance of not pressuring Regulus to do anything before he was ready, but she did also drop several sly hints that the house had been feeling empty for years since James had moved the great distance all the way to the barn. While Sirius had grown to love their attentive fussing, he knew from experience that Effie and Monty’s concern (well-meant though it was) could be more than a little overwhelming for someone so unused to familial affection. So, thinking that Regulus might be more comfortable in the barn with James, Sirius even magnanimously offered up his special attic bedroom in a show of unparalleled generosity that went – to his indignance – completely ignored.

By the middle of the week, the swelling around Regulus’ eye had almost completely gone down. Dr Pomfrey had returned once more to check him over and remove the stitches, confirming that he was healing well. The wound was no longer visible beneath his hair that had sprung into its natural waves in the absence of Walburga’s oils, some horrendous concoction that smelt of ambergris and buckwheat. Regulus himself seemed to have settled into a somewhat comfortable routine of hiding in Monty’s study, which was barely in use following Monty’s early retirement. No one disturbed him between meals, and that seemed to be enough to convince Regulus that he perhaps didn’t need to leave with any particular haste. Regulus’ return to Grimmauld House wasn’t mentioned again, at least, and since Sirius’ presence was no longer absolutely necessary, Effie suggested that some space might afford Regulus the opportunity to form his own thoughts independent of Sirius’ somewhat forceful advice. He agreed, but refused to leave until all three Potters had promised to do their best to keep him there for as long as possible.

Sirius returned to Godric Hall to find everything as he left it. In the days that followed, despite the few instances where Sirius found himself reaching again for his silver-cast flask, the cap remained sealed as he kept his head clear for more important matters. If Minerva was surprised to find him hidden away in his dust-smote library, pouring over ancient legal tomes that he had barely touched even during the days of his law degree, she made no comment.

Chapter Text

“I’m watching you.” Came a low husky voice over the phone that immediately had Sirius trembling between his bedsheets, caught between need and excitement. A week had passed since the late-night phone call from James and things had returned to their usual rhythm as summer came in full force. Sirius was already a little too warm in his silk boxers and satin sheets, and his temperature only rose at the familiar tone of Remus’ voice.

“What a terrifying way to start a phone call.”

Remus’ easy laugh was a tumbling melody, “On the telly. Your red-carpet event is being aired on the entertainment channel.”

“Oh, I had no idea it was being televised.” He could vaguely hear the noises of camera shutters and obtuse reporters nattering away in the background and caught the sound of his own voice, drawling and resplendent in its well-studied arrogance.

“Imagine my surprise. Here I am innocently flicking through the channels, and up pops my most infamous customer in one of my suits.”

“Is that all I am to you? Another customer?” He goaded.

“I think you know you’re more than that, love.” He could tell that Remus was doing his best to sound scathing, but his voice was nothing but fondness.

“Oh really? What am I then, Moony?” Sirius chanced another cheeky retort. He expected Remus to return his playfulness, but he was silent for a while and when he spoke his voice was flush with raw sincerity.

“You’re everything.” It came out little more than a breath and Sirius was lost for words at the blunt confession. Before he could recover Remus added in a brusque afterthought, “Not to mention a pain in the arse.”

And barking a gleeful laugh, Sirius returned, “But I’m your pain in the arse.”

“Fortunately for me.” Remus conceded. Snippets of his interview were still going in the background. “You didn’t give my name when they asked about the suit?”

“Oh, no. Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you wanted that sort of publicity. Didn’t want to say without asking you first. But if that is what you want, I’ll happily buy the next month’s worth of headlines to tell everyone exactly where they can find the world’s best tailor.”

Remus chuckled shyly, “No, no, that’s quite alright. Thank you for not telling them. I doubt it would really change anything, but I quite like my anonymity.”

“Alright, but you’ve got free advertising for a year if you ever change your mind.”

“Duly noted.” After another moment Remus started laughing.

“What? What is it?”

“Sorry, it’s just that the interviewer is so blatantly flirting with you.”

“And? What’s so funny about that?” Sirius demanded, indignant.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry- he called you a tall, dark, handsome stranger.”

“Well I am a bit, aren’t I?” Remus could evidently hear the pout in Sirius’ voice, because his own became a mocking tease of sympathy.

“Oh, sweetheart, yes. Very tall, dark, handsome and strange.”

“Oi. You’re meant to be jealous.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“Yes, there’s a man blatantly flirting with me – on national television no less, and all you can do is laugh?” Remus’ laughter stopped, but the teasing wasn’t completely gone from his voice when he spoke again.

“Well he can’t have you, can he?” Remus’ voice curled in a dangerous heat, “I thought you were mine, or am I wrong?”

Sirius swallowed thickly at the thought of belonging to Remus, “No… you’re right.”

“Well, then I’ve nothing to be jealous over, do I?” Sirius shook his head without a sound, but Remus didn’t really seem to need an answer.

“So, what’s the verdict, then? On the suit I mean.” Sirius craned for a compliment to dispel the thick tension growing in their shared breaths rustling over the line.

“You look good.” Came Remus’ eventual reply, his voice a pitch lower than before. Sirius felt his skin flush, and shuffled a little uncomfortably, sudden pleasure shooting straight to the pit of his navel in a stirring heat.

“Yeah?” he coaxed in an almost nervous murmur.

“Yeah. You look like you know it too. Look like you know everyone’s watching you. Look like you were made for it. The way you wear that suit…” Remus trailed off, apparently now too preoccupied to continue speaking. The line was quiet for a moment and Sirius focused on the soft breathing that came down the receiver cloaked in waves of static.

“Remus?” he prompted, after a moment too long.

“Sorry, just admiring the view,” came the cocky reply that went straight to the base of Sirius’ spine. After a moment’s deliberation and a weak attempt at restraint, Sirius moved his hand to press over his briefs, if only to soothe the growing pressure.

“Well, it’s your handiwork, so I think it’s a little narcissistic of you to be admiring the suit quite so much.” Sirius angled for the cheeky tone to disguise any underlying want that might creep into his voice as he spoke again.

“You think so?” came another, darker laugh, “I rather think it’s the person underneath who pulls it off so well.” Sirius’ felt his blush deepen, glad that Remus couldn’t see his obvious reaction to such a simple compliment. “You’re stunning. I wish I could have seen you.”

“You’re watching me right now.” He was surprised how low and fragmented his own voice came out when he spoke, but if Remus had noticed, he said nothing.

“I mean in person. And you know… all of it; the whole look, and you walking down that carpet like… that.” And there was something so intentional about the way that Remus said it, something so purposeful about the idea of Remus being there in person to witness it all, the extravagance, the splendour, the hot lights and heaving crowd, that Sirius’ breath caught.

“And what would you have done?” Sirius asked in hushed tones, feeling daring at the bold tone of Remus’ voice, “If you’d been there. In person.”

“Sirius…” A hint of danger crackled through the phone between them.

“Remus.” Sirius echoed, hoping to coax out that something into more than a hint, but couldn’t help the whine that slipped out to break up his taunts as he gave in to the temptation to palm himself through his boxers.

“Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“No.” He pressed the heel of his palm firmly against the outline of his erection as he lied through his blatant need.

“Sirius…”

“Maybe.”

“Good.” A soft, sharp gasp escaped Sirius’ lungs at the dark intent in Remus’ voice. “Stay on the line with me, darling. I want to hear you.”

“Oh, fuck Remus.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m- I’m touching myself. But my briefs are still on.”

“Are you wearing anything else?”

“No.” He whispered, feeling almost shy and exposed despite Remus not being able to see him.

“Bet you look gorgeous. All laid out on the bed, touching yourself for me.”

Sirius failed to swallow back his moan as he abandoned all resolve and tugged his boxers down so he could grip himself properly and let out a small sigh of relief. “Ah- Briefs are gone too now.”

Remus made a noise into the phone, something urgent and a little desperate. His words were breathier when he spoke, “Think you can keep still for a moment while I get comfortable? I want to talk you through it.”

“Oh… yes, please.” Sirius sighed, and it took a moment in the suspended heat of his own pleasure to take in what Remus was saying. “Will you tell me what you’re doing too?”

“If you’re good.” And Sirius shivered at the threat in his promise. There was a shuffling sound of Remus putting down the phone for a moment, and Sirius imagined he could hear the swish of fabric, of Remus disrobing and dropping his boxers. Remus picked up the phone again, his breath falling close to Sirius’ ear.

“Where are you?”

“On my sofa, lying down.”

“The sofa where I slept?”

“Yes, Sirius, as you full well know, I am on the only sofa in my flat.” Came the soft chuckle, “Funnily enough I don’t have a second sofa stashed away.”

Sirius gave a breathy laugh in response, “I like the idea of that. You getting off where I slept.”

“You realise we’ve both slept and had sex in my actual bed?”

“Yes, but that’s different.”

“If you say so.”

“I’d have absolutely let you fuck me into that couch that night.” Then he added with a wicked grin, which he hoped Remus could hear even if he couldn’t see it. “Maybe we can still try that sometime.”

Remus’ breath hitched down the line. “God, I’m terrible for even thinking it given the state you were in, but you have no idea how hard it was to say no to you that night. How much I wanted to give you everything you were asking for when you started talking about my fingers...”

“You do have fantastic fingers, Moony.” He could hear Remus’ breath quickening, and his cock twitched at the absent memory of the last time he’d had Remus’ hands all over him. “So quick and nimble. God, you do the most incredible things with those fingers. Always manage to hit just the right spot when you’re getting me ready for your cock.”

“Fuck, Sirius.” Remus groaned, “That’s what I’d have done. If I’d been there that night with all those people watching you, all those cameras....”

“Mm, tell me Remus.”

“I’d have bent you over, where everyone could see you, and fucked you open with my fingers, let everyone see how pretty your tight little hole is.”

“Fuck, yes Remus,” Sirius moaned, his grip on his cock tightening, but Remus had told him to stay still. “Please can I move my hand, Remus? I need to move.”

“Oh, sweetheart, listen to you. So desperate already and we’ve barely even started. Go ahead, love, but tell me what you’re doing. And I want you to ask me before you come.”

Sirius let out a noise somewhere between a lusty moan and a whine of indignance. “Fuck, Remus, I wish you were here with me.”

“Paint me a pretty picture, sweetheart. What are you doing now?”

“I’m- I’m running my hand over my cock, nice and slow, the way you do when you’re teasing me.”

“Oh sweetheart, do you like that? When I tease you like that, when it’s not quite enough.”

“Y-yes Remus.” Sirius made himself hold still again for a moment, imagining it was Remus’ hand, not his own, imagining Remus’ teasing smirk as he held his cock, knowing how desperately Sirius wanted to rut himself into a quick and dirty orgasm. “I’ve stopped moving again, imagining you’re holding me in place, waiting for me to start begging.”

“Fuck, darling. I love listening to you beg.” He churned out a low and dirty moan that fuzzed in the static at the bottom of the line, “Go on then.”

“Please Remus. I need more, please let me, please.”

“No.”

“What?” Sirius gasped, he’d almost started moving again, so sure that Remus would tell him yes, permit him to start moving his hands or his hips like he so desperately wanted.

“Take your hand off.” Sirius moaned loudly, a frustrated growl grinding out from the back of his throat. Remus tutted. “Be good, darling, I promise it will be worth it. Have you let go?”

Sirius removed his hand and nodded, before realising that Remus couldn’t hear that, “Yes. Yes, please Remus, keep going.”

“Okay, now can you finger yourself for me? Just one finger, mind. Nice and slow for me, love.” Sirius reached over for the lubricant in his bedside drawer, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he slicked his fingers. Then let his legs fall open as he reached below his throbbing erection and began to ease a finger inside himself, letting out another stifled groan. “That’s it, darling, all the way in, as deep as you can, nice and slow. Count to five as you do it.”

“One.” Sirius began on a breath, as he pushed in deeper, imagining the tight slide as if it were Remus’ finger inside him. “Two. Three, four-”

“Slower.”

“Four. Five.”

“How does it feel?”

“Good, not as good as you though.”

“Keep going, I’ll tell you when to add another finger. And no touching that pretty cock of yours; I’ll know if you do.” Sirius’ hole twitched at the sound of Remus’ threat, as though it remembered the way that same tongue had eased him open on multiple occasions. Remus made him repeat the same slow torturous movements for several long minutes, then several more until he’d worked up to three fingers, all the while his neglected cock had grown stiffer, leaking desperately against his bare stomach. Sirius’ breaths grew short as he pumped his fingers inside himself with increasing speed, Remus controlling his every move from the other end of the phone.

“That’s it, Sirius. So good for me, darling.” Remus crooned.

“What are you doing, Remus?” He whined, his voice a breathy husk of want, still fucking himself on his fingers.

“I’m stroking myself to the sound of those lovely sounds you’re making, darling. Gripping my cock, taking it nice and slow to keep myself hard for you. That way, when you’re good and ready for me, I’ll be able to slide right inside you.”

“Nngh, Remus, please!” Sirius moaned, his body thrashing against the tug of his own fingers in impatience and he yanked his fingers out when they were no longer enough. His hole twitched around the sudden emptiness. “Please now, I want you in me now. I need you, Remus, please!”

“Colour, Sirius? If this is too much, I want you to tell me.”

“Orange, I think.”

“Okay, sweetheart, what do you need?”

“I need you. Here.”

“I know darling, me too. I wish I could be there with you.” Remus sighed and despite everything the sound went straight to Sirius’ cock as it jumped with need. “Can I do anything to make it better right now?”

“Can we keep going? But maybe a bit less about you putting your cock in me. Not when I know you can’t.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you like that.”

“You always mean to tease me.”

“Only the way you like. I never want it to be too much for you.” Remus soothed, “Okay, sweetheart, will you close your eyes for me?”

“Okay,” Sirius complied, shutting his eyes tight, his hole empty and his hand hovering over his thigh, waiting for Remus’ command. “They’re closed.”

“Okay, now I want you to hold your cock. Not too tight.” Sirius complied, wrapping his fingers around himself, “Imagine it’s me, imagine it’s my fingers holding you.”

“Mmh, Remus, love your fingers.”

“I know, darling. You feel so good in my hand. Perfect fit. You can move your hand now, darling, nice and slow. How does it feel?”

“Feels… nnggh,” Sirius squeezed himself tighter ever so slightly as his hand slipped down to the base, “feels good. You feel good.”

“You can move a bit faster now, but keep your hand still. Move your hips for me darling, fuck my hand like I know you want to.”

Fighting every urge, Sirius forced himself to keep his hand still and then began rocking into his fist in slow, gentle movements at first, then letting himself find a gentle rhythm, bouncing back against the mattress as the intense pleasure built.

“Fuck, Remus, fuck, I want to come, please.”

“Not yet, darling.” He could hear Remus’ voice thick with his own desire and heavy panting breaths. Sirius let out a tortured groan. “Will you be good for me? Slow down if you need to.”

“Fuck, fuck, Remus, please.” Sirius continued to thrust faster into his hand, ignoring Remus’ suggestion.

“You’re not being good, Sirius. God, what a needy little whore you are.” Sirius gasped loudly and was forced to halt his movements, squeezing hard at the base of his cock to stop himself from coming, but Remus wasn’t done. “So desperate to come, Lord Black. You’ll do anything to get yourself off, won’t you?”

“Anything, fuck Moony, please I’ll do anything.”

“Would you have got down on your knees for me? On the red carpet in front of all those people? Or at one of your fancy parties? Would you have been good and let me use your mouth with everyone watching?”

“Yes, Remus, I’m yours- fuck, all yours to use when you… w-when you want. Please, Moony…” Sirius begged as he started moving his hand again, slowing his movements as he rubbed along his cock, twisting a thumb over his leaking tip. His whole cock was slick with precome and lube, dribbling between his legs, still splayed from where he’d been fingering himself open.

“Fuck, Sirius, you’re so good. And when you’re on your knees, you’d let me fuck your mouth and come down your throat, wouldn’t you?”

“God, yes! Please, please Remus, I need-”

“You’d let everyone see what a needy little whore you are? God, sweetheart, you’d be so hard from me fucking your throat, and I wouldn’t touch you. I’d leave you hard and desperate, and everyone would be able to see how badly you need it.”

“Please Remus, please, please…”

“You’d let everyone watch the noble Lord Black desperate and gagging on my cock. And maybe, once I’d finished with you, I’d let you rub up against my leg, let you come like that in front of all those people, all dressed up in your gorgeous suit and that pretty jewellery. You’d be crying and begging like you are now, ruining all your lovely makeup, and you’d come all over yourself, make such a mess. Would you do that for me?”

“Yes, Moony, please,” Sirius sobbed, his hips thrusting in frantic, uneven jolts, so close to the edge, the hot pleasure flickering through his nerves. “I want- I want-”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Please Remus,” he panted as he rolled his hips against the mattress, imagining Remus’ hands tracing over his body, his lips pressing against his neck and chest and thighs.

“Hmm… I don’t think you really want to. You don’t sound that fussed, really. Maybe we should stop.”

“Please, Remus, please let me fucking come.”

“Fuck, Sirius, you’re so good- look so pretty coming in your suit, you’d have to spend the whole evening walking around like that,” Remus spoke faster, and Sirius could hear the slight panting of his own desperation bleeding through the picture he was weaving, “making nice, being polite, acting like the perfect little Lord, with everyone knowing exactly what a desperate slut you really are- nnggh, sweetheart, would you- ah- would you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, I would- oh fuck! I’d do anything for you. Please, I’ll do all of it Remus, please let me come.”

“Ohhh, sweetheart… Okay- okay, you can come.” Remus had barely uttered the words before Sirius was thrusting out in blinding white flashes of pleasure, his come flying in thick lines over his stomach, and then Remus’ moans grew loud as he came to the sound of Sirius’ orgasm, shouting his name down the phone.

“Fucking hell, Remus.”

“Too much?” Remus asked, still panting down the line, each breath clouded in heavy crackles of static.

“Just perfect.” Sirius sighed contented, though the absent feeling of fullness from Remus being inside him was noticeable. He nuzzled for warmth between his luxuriant bedding as his skin began to cool from the full-body flush that had consumed him moments ago, missing the warmth of Remus’ body next to him.

“Good.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, cariad.”

“Come stay with me.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then Remus’ cautious question: “Stay with you… um, you mean…”

“Come here. For a few days. You can work from here, I’ll have Minnie set you up, or-”

“Don’t worry about that; I can take a few days off. But Sirius, what about-”

“I don’t care, I need you here. Please.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course I will, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. I want to see you. I’ll send Frank to pick you up first thing tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll be ready. Sleep well, Sirius. I’ll see you soon.”

“Night, Moony.”

“Night, love.”

~~~

The next morning Sirius woke early to reel a list of instructions off to Minerva which were in turn relayed to the staff, and from that moment on, Godric Hall became a constant buzz of toing-and-froing, as even Sirius flitted about the place in a panic, making sure everything was just so. Everything was kept immaculate most days, so there wasn’t much preparation needed. Sirius, nevertheless, kept finding small tasks. He had the gardeners trim several bunches of wildflowers that he thought Remus might like to be placed in vases around the house. He had the servants changing his bedsheets twice while he deliberated over which set Remus would find the most comfortable. He even asked Minerva to send for several cannisters of hot chocolate.

Frank left around seven in the morning (Sirius would have had him leave at dawn, but he thought it unlikely Remus would be awake in time). From the moment his car disappeared from sight, Sirius was returning every few minutes to the small lounge on the second floor, which had the best view of the front gates from the house, even though he knew it would realistically take at least a few hours for Frank to return with Remus. It was a giddy excitement running through him, different from that tantalising anticipation that accompanied the approach to Remus’ shop, but no less heady and thrilling. The thought that in a few short hours Remus would be arriving, would be in his home. With him.

Sirius poked his head out of the alcove window, watching the end of the driveway for any flicker of movement, surrounded by the wafting scent of the freshly mown lawn carried along by the warm breeze of early June. He felt pathetic, perking up at every slight shadow cast by the rustling trees or clouds passing in the way of the morning sun, but at around ten o’clock, he was rewarded with the sight of his own black saloon rolling around the corner as the gates opened wide to admit its entry. He imagined he could see the outline of Remus, pressed up against the glass, watching the expansive lawn roll past as the car took what seemed an age to finally make its way down the main drive. Not that Sirius stayed long to watch.

With only a cursory final glance at his outfit – the third that he’d tried on that morning – he raced downstairs, nearly bowling over one of the servants as he all but sprinted to the front door only to come grinding to a halt, feeling caught. Minerva, who had been waiting ready to receive the expected guest, raised an eyebrow at his discomposure and Sirius tried to contain his blush. Raising his chin and clearing his throat, he slowed to his usual gainly elegance, turning to his main reception room and leaving Minerva to greet Remus at the door, though it felt stranger than usual to be receiving Remus like any other visitor.

Sirius did his best not to fidget with impatience, sitting on his centuries’ old canapé settee – a relic that Minerva only rarely allowed him to touch at such times as this, when a guest’s arrival was imminent. He struggled to find a comfortable position, and now found sitting to be the most unnatural thing in the world, as he rearranged himself several times before settling on crossing one leg over the other, and leaning his elbow against one arm of the settee in an attempt at nonchalance. It was all for naught, because as soon as he heard the muffled burble of voices from the entryway on the other side of the door, he straightened to attention, only remaining seated in the strictest sense when the door creaked open with a painful slowness.

“Mr Lupin for you, Lord Black.” Minerva announced in her most proper, prim manner, and Remus emerged from behind her looking awfully uncomfortable to be introduced in such a way, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets as he inclined a jerky nod towards Minerva in thanks. The smile lifted easily onto Sirius’ lips, and with it an ease bled into his limbs, gracefully gesturing for Remus to take a seat. Remus did so, perching on the opposite settee in the most awkward manner, and Sirius had to bite back a laugh of fondness.

“Thank you, Minerva.” He said, turning his smile towards his bemused housekeeper instead.

“Shall I have some tea brought in? Or is there anything else you need, sir?” She was good enough to at least act as though this was nothing more than any other business visit. Sirius had of course explained that Remus would be staying for a few days, but he hadn’t given any indication as to what had prompted the visit and Minerva had the decency to hide her surprise when he’d requested for one of the guest bedrooms to be made up. Not that he thought it would be necessary, but better to at least keep up the pretence with a houseful of staff that he’d brought in to get the house ready in time. Minerva was no fool, however. As discrete as they’d tried to be, he knew that each visit he made to the remote atelier had not gone unnoticed, that every late-night call he’d made to the same phone number was recorded in her meticulously kept financial accounts.

“A pot of tea would be lovely, Minerva, thank you.” She nodded curtly and turned back out of the room leaving the two of them sat opposite each other with a small lacquer-wood table in-between, freshly adorned with some of the flowers Sirius had sent for in the early hours of the morning.

It was absurd: The two of them sat face-to-face on sofas that were disproportionately close together considering the sweeping size of the room, and far too distant considering that all Sirius wanted to do was leap over the coffee table and bundle Remus into his arms. He kept himself restrained, however, watching the blush start to recede from Remus’ cheeks, his hands fretting over each other as though he didn’t know where to put them, while one of his legs bobbed nervously. Meanwhile, his beautiful glowing brown eyes had never been so large, glancing around the room and occasionally flitting back to the door he’d entered through as though wondering whether he’d accidentally stepped into some imaginary, alternate reality.

“Hi.” Sirius spoke softly, almost frightened to spook Remus, though the excitement widened his smile with every passing second.

“Hi.” Remus answered, equally quiet, but so stiff that resisting the urge to laugh was becoming an increasingly insurmountable challenge for Sirius.

“Remus, you can relax. It’s only me.”

“Right.” Remus seemed to unclench a little, but still not completely, “Right, of course. How are you? Have you spoken to Regulus recently?”

“I have. He’s doing better. Seems to be happy staying with the Potters, thank god. At least for now until we can find him somewhere permanent, though he’s still refusing to come and live with me of course, the stubborn git. And I’m very well, thank you, Remus,” Sirius answered in his best impression of Remus’ own cautioned politeness, before adding with a sly grin, “Better for seeing you.”

And Remus finally smiled, a small, nervous thing, his gaze falling to focus on Sirius, instead of the opulently adorned room around him. Sirius hadn’t realised he had himself still been feeling nervous, wondering what Remus thought of his home, of him in it, until those deep searching eyes were settled on him, bringing with them the grounding calm that Sirius had been lacking. Two smiles deepened as their eyes locked, finding comfort in each other for a long moment before Remus spoke again.

“It’s so strange.” Remus’ voice was hushed as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be saying such things, like some conspiratorial collusion with Sirius in his own house. “Seeing you here, like this. This place is a fucking palace. It’s like you’re… you’re a prince or something.”

“Only a duke.” Sirius shrugged, flashing a wink at Remus, who snorted loudly and then clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, his eyes even wider if it were possible with the stretched look of horror and Sirius couldn’t contain himself any longer, bursting into loud pealing laughter, entirely unsympathetic to Remus’ apparent struggle. “I should have invited you over much sooner, this is much too entertaining.”

“Oh, you can sod right off.” Remus retorted limply, seeming to relax a little more with each barked out laugh, “I don’t know what I’m allowed to do here. It feels… I dunno, like I’ve been called before the Queen. Feel like I should be curtseying or- or…”

“You’re welcome to curtsey if you like, but I promise it’s not required.” Sirius smirked at Remus’ unimpressed glare, “No one here gives a toss what you do. I mean, as long as you don’t break anything too valuable; some of the stuff in here is older than the magna carta.”

Remus tensed up again at that suggestion, looking around him with a renewed stricken panic as if he was only realising the value of each and every ornament around him, and groaned when Sirius collapsed into another bout of laughter.

He huffed, “You’re not funny.”

“I am quite funny.” One of Sirius’ servants returned at that moment carrying a tray holding a teapot, strainer, two teacups, a sugar bowl, and a plate of sliced lemon. Remus’ eyes grew wide again at the sight of the frail, ornately patterned china. “Please relax, Remus. I can’t tell you how many things I’ve broken – accidentally or otherwise.”

“It’s your stuff. You’re allowed to break it.”

Sirius shrugged. “Moony, you could burn this whole house down and I wouldn’t give a damn. Though Minerva might have one or two things to say about it.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“I promise, I’ll protect you from Minerva’s wrath. C’mon, have some tea?” Remus slumped visibly, letting out a little sigh, as Sirius handed over a freshly poured cup of tea. Remus frowned at his cup and the yellow rind bobbing ripples on the surface.

“No milk?”

“It’s lady grey.” Sirius protested.

“So… that’s a no then?”

“Just try it.” He snorted, adding a wedge of lemon to his own cup, and Remus took a tentative sip. “And?”

“Still think it could use milk.”

“Heathen.”

It took a while longer for Remus to fall back into his usual self. He seemed to relax more at every pealing laugh, at each softly murmured ‘Moony’, but between the attendants waiting in the fringes of the room and the slow slurping of tea, Sirius was at a loss for how to put Remus at complete ease. Fortunately, Minerva managed to save the situation after she popped back in to ask about the arrangements for lunch and hinted that perhaps Remus might appreciate a tour of the house and grounds. Sirius offered a silent grateful look towards Minerva for her wonderful suggestion. In no time, Remus was being dragged from room to room, his eyes growing increasingly wide at each chandelier-adorned, high-windowed room that Sirius introduced him to with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Fuck, Sirius, you live in an actual palace.” Remus stated again in breathless astonishment when Sirius showed him the sweeping marble floor of ballroom, its walls flecked in gold leaf and weathered murals.

“It’s not even as big as where I grew up.” Sirius shrugged, making Remus snort in disbelief.

“Do you miss it?”

“Not even a little.” Sirius had hummed happily at that before extending a hand, “Fancy a dance?”

“There’s no music.” Remus pointed out, his gaze falling on Sirius’ extended hand, looking uncertain – almost fearful – and Sirius had to bark yet another loud, free laugh.

“I’ll see if Minnie can arrange a string quartet.” He quipped with a teasing smirk, only to raise his hands in mocking surrender as Remus responded with a pained look entirely lacking his own amusement. “Fancy a stroll about the gardens in the meantime?”

“Sure, but… gardens? Plural?” His eyes grew wide again when Sirius didn’t respond and then asked with a hint of scepticism, “You’re not really going to get a string quartet in, are you?”

“Probably too late for today, but say the word and I’ll see what I can do, darling.” Sirius winked.

“You’re insufferable.” Remus groaned.

“Yet here you are, suffering me.”

“Here I am.” Remus grumbled, but then he smiled widely and Sirius pressed a discrete hand against his back to lead him through the wide sweeping French doors out into the grounds.

~~~

They ambled along the paved walkways between rows of towering conifers. Free of the watching eyes of Sirius’ staff, and the stuffy ornament-filled corridors, Remus seemed to be enjoying himself more; his smile was bright and his laugh was loud, the way Sirius liked them, though he continued to greet every sight with wide-eyed amazement. After the winter garden and the herb garden, Sirius escorted Remus through the rose garden, behind the walls of the summer orchards, and through rows upon rows of marigolds lining the path to the excessively magnificent fountain. It was as if he were seeing his own grounds for the first time.

Remus surveyed every lilac, gardenia and tulip with wide-eyed awe, drinking in the colours like a hummingbird drinking nectar. He insisted they stop walking to watch a butterfly dance over a buddleia bush, hushed him in excitement when a rabbit scurried from the undergrowth, and murmured a low, trickling laugh into Sirius’ ear when one of the daftest woodpigeons Sirius had ever witnessed flew directly into a tree trunk and proceeded to blink dumbly as it undoubtedly recovered from a concussion. Sirius felt sympathy for the poor bird, feeling much the same bemusement as he watched Remus enjoy the world around him in such serene delight. As much as he loved Godric Hall, in all his years living here, Sirius had never noticed the abundance of life for all the artifice and cultivated beauty. But Remus was full of life. Everywhere he went, the world followed.

They walked on until they were shielded from the view of the house, disappearing beneath the dark canopy of the copse at the far end of his estate, and only then did Sirius allow himself to link hands with Remus. Remus seemed to need confirmation every few minutes that yes, they were in fact, still on Sirius’ property no matter how much it appeared like wild, untamed land. Until Sirius, unable to take anymore, pressed him up against a tree with an exasperated groan, rolling his eyes at Remus’ nose-wrinkling grin, and silenced him with his lips.

“So, this tree actually belongs to you?” Remus muffled when Sirius made the mistake of moving his lips away from Remus’ mouth, over his jaw towards his neck. Sirius gave an irritated huff and a light nip of his teeth in punishment.

“Yes, Moony, this is my tree. And so is that one and that one and all twenty of the other trees you’ve asked about already.”

“Alright.” Remus chuckled, and gazed adoringly at Sirius for a moment, plucking a leaf that had fluttered down from Sirius’ hair. Sirius resumed kissing down his throat, feeling the vibrations against his mouth when Remus spoke again, “If I’d have known you owned a whole forest, I might’ve accepted your money.”

Sirius made a strangled noise of frustration from where his lips were currently latched to a spot next to Remus’ collarbone.

“I swear to god-”

“That was a joke, a joke.” Remus surrendered, his laugh still soft and teasing. As consolation, Remus’ hands, which had been absently resting against Sirius’ hips, wandered up beneath Sirius’ shirt and Sirius allowed himself to be mollified by the spreading heat against his skin.

“You have no idea,” Sirius mumbled between kisses, “How many of my teenage fantasies I’m living out right now.”

“Dreamed a lot about dogging, did you?” Remus snorted, his voice a little strained as Sirius’ mouth continued to travel beneath the line of his collar, tugging at his shirt for better access.

“It’s not dogging. We’re on private property.”

“Right, right… I see now. It’s completely diff-” Remus’ voice caught, as Sirius sank to his knees on the ground, softened by the blanket of chipped bark and soil. “Uh… different…”

Lifting Remus’ shirt so he could graze his lips beneath the line of his ribs, Sirius continued, “Always imagined disappearing to the edges of the property to carry out some forbidden liaison with the gardener, or the postie, or milkman. Letting them take me against a tree, or dirtying up my clothes on my knees, or on my back…”

“Mmm… how did you find the time for all your imaginary lovers.”

“That’s assuming they were imaginary.”

“You didn’t…”

“No,” Sirius chuckled against Remus’ hip, glancing up at Remus’ scandalised expression, “Had quite a crush on the gardener at Grimmauld House, though. Always outdoors in Summer, sweat on his brow, shirt damp and clinging…”

 “Alright, I get the picture.” Remus gave Sirius’ shoulder a light tap, before settling his fingers lightly in Sirius’ hair at the base of his scalp.

“Jealous?”

Remus snorted at Sirius’ smug grin, “You'd love that wouldn't you.”

“It’s alright, I never actually had any trysts in the garden – far too dangerous back then, and never had much opportunity since I moved here.”

“What, all the other lovers you brought home were too prim and proper for muddy knees?”

Sirius pulled away from where he’d been sucking a bruise next to Remus’ bellybutton to look him in the eye, “No. I’ve never… I mean I’ve had ‘lovers’, if that’s what you want to call them, but never brought them here. You’d be the first.”

“Oh.” Sirius couldn’t help breaking out into a warm smile at Remus’ touched expression of surprise. Releasing Remus’ shirt, where he’d held it pinned against his torso, Sirius scrambled to his feet.

“C’mon, as much as I desperately want to blow you right here, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. Want to show you the rest of the gardens.” And Sirius stole another quick kiss before darting off, not waiting for Remus to follow.

“The rest?” He heard the incredulous shout behind him, and returned a loud, reverberating laugh over his shoulder.

They emerged from the copse to an overcast sky, but since it hadn’t yet started to drizzle, Sirius continued the tour. Passing the fruit and vegetable plots, they took handfuls of freshly picked berries in lieu of the lunch Minerva was sure to have laid out for them in the dining room, feeding them to each other in fits of laughter while the purple, red and black juices stained their hands and fingers. After traipsing through the many orchards, Sirius dragged them down to the Summer House beside the pond at the far end of the garden, still a little out of sight from the main house.

“You didn’t tell me you could sing?”

“What?” Sirius startled at the abrupt non-sequitur of Remus’ accusation, still gawking at the moderately sized glass building, the inside lined with colourful plants and white benches.

“Well, being part of a large, touring family music group, you must be a pretty good singer.”

“I don’t…”

“Now I see what your thing with the postie was about.” Remus snorted at his own joke, while Sirius blinked a few times in confusion at Remus’ dry reaction.

“Remus, what the hell are you on about?”

“Rolf and Liesl? Sixteen going on Seventeen? Now all we need is a torrential downpour…”

“Huh?”

“You’ve never watched The Sound of Music?”

“No? Should I have?” Remus simply sighed and shook his head, looking almost forlorn and leaving Sirius none the wiser as he let himself into the summer house, pulling Sirius in behind him. They sat down on one of the benches, facing each other with their feet up and knees bent, slotting around each other. Sirius let himself stare at Remus, who was still taking in the rest of the room. Then he reached out for his hand, taking hold of it with both of his own to play with Remus’ fingers. He arched Remus’ fingers against his own, steepling their hands together, as Remus watched on in amusement.

“You really like my fingers, don’t you?”

Sirius nodded vigorously, entirely solemn, “They’re the main draw actually. Helps that they make such good suits.”

Remus snorted in amusement, but then turned suddenly pensive. “I do sometimes wonder if we’d met when we were younger, whether we’d ever...”

“Absolutely.” Sirius answered without a second of doubt.

“Come on, be serious.”

“I’m always-” but he was cut short by Remus’ raised eyebrow, and he grinned sheepishly. “What, you don’t think so?”

“Well, I was a bitter, insecure mess, and you were – by your own account – a jaded, untrusting mess.”

“Perfect match.”

“I can believe we’d have slept together, sure… There’s no time in my life I wouldn’t have been insanely attracted to you. I mean, have you seen you?” Remus stated matter-of-factly, avoiding looking directly at Sirius and blushing as he spoke. Sirius beamed. “And I’ve got the rugged scars going for me.”

“You know, I do find your scars very sexy, but I’d have found you insanely attractive anyway.”

“Right, because of the fingers.”

“Because of the fingers.” Sirius agreed with a smirk, squeezing Remus’ hand tighter in his grip.

“But I don’t think we’d have fallen in love like this.”

“Fallen-” The words caught in Sirius’ throat, and it wasn’t a horrible kind of shock, but it wasn’t the heartwarming revelation he supposed it should have been. He had thought about it, of course. He had been listening in, holding his breath for Remus to say it that morning in the Potters’ kitchen, but nothing had been spoken aloud. James had suggested it before, in Italy, but he had been teasing, nagging at best, talking about a vague, imagined future. Even Regulus had asked about it, but that was the quiet whispers exchanged between brothers in the early, frozen in the extemporal hours of the early morning, a vulnerable, secret moment that Sirius had allowed after a long, cruel night. But thinking or even hoping it, well those were things entirely separate from either of them actually saying it. The idea of letting those words slip between his teeth made his chest stutter in something not entirely pleasant. The thought of it made him giddy, a heady churn of emotion that threatened to leap out from beneath his sternum. But any hopeful sparks of joy were cut short by the implications of what it would mean for Lord Black to have any such feelings towards a man – his tailor no less. And even further beneath that, a quiet, unvoiced fear that Sirius kept tucked away behind cold, grey eyes.

Some part of Sirius’ panic must have been evident in his expression, because in the time it had taken for Sirius to begin processing what he’d said, Remus’ eyes widened in horror. “Oh. No, no, no- I’m sorry, Sirius, I didn’t- I understand if you… but it’s not what I- oh fucking fuck. I’ve fucked this.” Remus groaned, pulling back his hand to cover his face, rubbing his temple as he babbled. Sirius’ shock was almost entirely replaced by guilt.

“Remus…”

“Sirius, it’s fine, you don’t have to…”

“It’s not that I don’t want-”

“Please, Sirius, it’s fine. Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on this, that isn’t- and now I’ve gone and fucked it, oh fucking bloody fuck-”

“Remus would you stop swearing for two bloody seconds!” Remus parted his hands to meet Sirius’ glare, and Sirius softened at the mahogany splinters peering through.

They watched each other in silence for a moment, Remus waiting for Sirius to make a move, Sirius waiting until his thoughts would form an orderly procession instead of the garbled mess ricocheting around his brain.

The words found him, and taking a deep breath, he spoke softly.

“You know, last week’s only the second time I’ve said that to anyone.” He started, craning his neck up to stare at the drizzle that had started pattering on the ceiling, unable to hold Remus’ gaze. “To my brother. I never used to say it growing up. Not to my parents, not to any of my family. I’ve never even said it to James, and he says it to me all the time. The only other time I said it, the first time… well, you already know how that ended.”

“Oh, Sirius…” The tension in Remus’ joints seemed to melt, his hands slipping away from his face.

“I… It’s not something- I can’t- Even if I feel a certain way, it’s not exactly something that I know how to… I don’t even know if I’m- I…”

“Sirius, it’s okay. Really. You don’t have to say anything.”

“But you-”

“Sirius,” Remus’ voice turned stern, and for some reason that was enough to set Sirius at ease even before he said anything. “If and when I’m ready to say it to you, I’m not expecting you to reciprocate immediately – or at all, if it’s not… Erm, what I mean is, I wouldn’t say it because I want to hear it back. I’d say it if, and only if, it’s true. And I wouldn’t say it in the middle of a stupid conversation about my fingers without really saying it, and then talk absolute bollocks for a full minute afterwards. I also wouldn’t say ‘fuck’ quite so much, unless it’s immediately preceded by ‘I’m going to’ and followed by ‘you’. So that wasn’t it. Okay?”

“Okay.” He gave a small nod, allowing Remus’ reassurance to be enough for now, putting a stopper in the rest of his concerns for another day.

“Good.”

“Good.” There was a moment of silence interrupted by the rain falling faster, steady rivulets beginning to form on the glass panels. “Can we circle back to the ‘I’m going to fuck you’ bit though?”

Remus snorted a laugh, Sirius couldn’t help but snicker, and it must have been the tension breaking, because then they were in fits of laughter. Within minutes, the rain fell from a drizzle to a pour, hammering on the glass above their heads, as if competing to drown them out, but they only laughed louder.

“There’s that torrential downpour you were after.” Sirius barked out between his laughter, retrieving Remus’ hand. “C’mon, best get back to the house. Minnie’ll send a search party if we’re out in this too long.”

They burst out into the rain and it crashed around them as they raced back to the house, giggling and snorting the whole way. When they reached the house, their clothes were soaked and their skin was damp, hair hanging in limp curls around their smiling faces. Sirius shut the door on the rain, coming to a stop in the back entrance to the kitchens, where he hunched over, gripping a stitch at his side.

“Lord Black!” Minerva’s scolding voice appeared before he could recover his breath, “You’ll catch your death in that cold! Not to mention the mess – the floors were only mopped this morning.”

Sirius couldn’t help breaking out into another fit of laughter, even as he attempted to apologise. Remus at least looked apologetic, but as soon as Sirius was laughing, he was laughing too.

“I insist you get upstairs and change out of those wet clothes.” Minerva persisted through their heavy guffaws, “I will have one of the staff ready the bath for you immediately.”

“Yes Minnie, thank you Minnie,” Sirius sniggered through his hands, before taking hold of Remus’ hand once more and tugging him upstairs to his bedroom.

~~~

“Oh god, Sirius…” Remus moaned, unrestrained and desperate as he writhed against the mattress. “How the fuck are your sheets so soft.”

“One thousand thread count, baby.” Sirius chuckled from where he was perched against his dresser, watching Remus squirm and bury himself between the plush mound of pillows, wrapped up in one of Sirius’ most decadent bathrobes fresh from the steamy bath that had flushed his skin delightfully. Sirius’ own hair hung in damp ringlets around his neck, but he was still warm from the bath and the glowing bundle in his chest.

They’d shared the bath together in a comfortable quiet. Remus occasionally made a wry comment that had Sirius snorting soapy water into his nostrils, but they were both a little tired from traipsing around the grounds and the steam went to their heads, relaxing them both into a soporific daze. The silence gave Sirius a chance to think, to clear his head without the immediacy of Remus’ near-confession, his taut expression, and the thrumming rain. In the calm after the immediate shock had worn off, Sirius found himself turning the phrase around in his mind, over and over again, something glowing a little brighter each time he heard Remus’ voice saying ‘if we’d have fallen in love like this’. Like this. Sirius could imagine a hundred ways he might have fallen in love with Remus. He could imagine if they’d met before either of them had scars on their bodies and minds, before either of them had any reason not to loudly proclaim it. He could imagine if they’d met as children, becoming friends like he and James had, only nothing like that because he and Remus would never be anything other than what they were. He could imagine if they met when they were old and grey, or after years of hardship and separation. But only once could he imagine falling in love like this. And as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Sirius knew that it was no longer a matter of if, but when.

Pocketing the thought for further rumination at a later time, Sirius returned to the glorious sight of Remus in his bed. “I could get use to this.”

“Aren’t you already?” Remus popped up from where he’d submerged himself in the duvet.

“Not this,” Sirius gestured at the luxurious room around him with a cavalier eyeroll, making Remus snort, yet again, at Sirius’ indifference towards all the opulence surrounding him. “I mean, you. In my bed. Being all cute.”

“Come join me and I’ll show you cute.” Remus kneeled upright drawing his height into challenge and growled with that hungry grin of his. Sirius was only too happy to take him up, but then Remus was sitting to attention, looking over Sirius’ shoulder, his wide grin growing wider. Sirius collapsed his head onto Remus’ shoulder with a huff, sensing he wasn’t going to be shown anything any time soon.

“Is that where you keep them?”

“Hm?”

“Your suits.”

Sirius lifted his head and following Remus’ gaze to the floor-to-ceiling wardrobes, “Your suits, you mean.”

“Hmm…” Remus shrugged with a happy, slightly devilish smile, his eyes flashing wide as he launched himself with tumbling legs off the bed and opened the cupboard door, pinching his bottom lip beneath his smile the way he did when he was struggling to contain his excitement, different from the way he folded his lip between his teeth when he was nervous, or nibbled the corner of his mouth when he was focused. “Would you try them on for me?”

“Remus, I’ve tried them all on for you. Multiple times.” Sirius pointed out, a little whine in his voice from where he sat on the bed that had previously also held Remus, who now seemed more interested in rifling through his wardrobe. He had apparently forgotten his previous offer that had been so enticing to Sirius precisely because it was offered in his bed.

“I know, but with the makeup and everything. The way you would if you were wearing them to a party or to Westminster.”

“You want me to play dress up for you?” Sirius snorted, incredulous. Remus shrugged, the excited glimmer never leaving his eye as he brushed his hands over the suits. He began pulling them out one at a time, straightening them and dusting them down, as if he were pulling ancient disused suits from a musty old armoire, instead of ones that Sirius had kept neat and meticulously uncreased, protecting them with reverence from any potential damage.

“So will you?” Remus prompted again, picking out the burgundy dinner suit that Sirius had worn to James’ new year’s party.

“I suppose, if you really wanted, I could dress up for dinner or something. But wouldn’t it be odd? You wearing your regular clothes and me all dressed up.”

“I wouldn’t mind- oh?”

“What?”

“What do we have here?” Remus hand dipped into the front breast pocket of the velvet jacket, and with a smirk, he withdrew a small scrap of paper. It took Sirius a moment to remember what it was, and when he did, he blushed. “You kept this?”

“It made me smile.” Sirius shrugged without meeting Remus’ eye, hoping he’d sufficiently downplayed how much he had treasured that note. It was the small, crumpled note that Remus had written him with that teasing comment: don’t worry, no buttons.

“I’d hoped it would.”

“I hadn’t seen you for a while. I was missing you.” Sirius admitted, blushing further, Remus now advancing towards him, suit in hand and smugness rising in his smile.

“Oh yes, I remember. That wasn’t long after you’d kissed me and then ran out of my shop without so much as a ‘thank you and goodbye’.” Remus laughed, but it was kind, pulling Sirius close to kiss away the grumbling pout that had appeared at the gentle teasing. The suit was swiftly tossed onto the bed, where it lay forgotten.

“I came back. Eventually.”

“I’m so glad you did, darling. You know I barely got any work done that week. I was a complete mess thinking I’d never get to kiss you again, never get to kiss you properly.”

“And now you can kiss me properly as much as you like.”

“So I can.” And Remus’ light pecks turned into a deep, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue pressing into Sirius’ mouth, as if to prove the point. The kiss grew more heated, Remus tugging at Sirius’ shirt and running a warm hand over the skin underneath.

“Mm- Moony,” Sirius managed to mumble between Remus’ insistent attentions.

“Yes, cariad?” Remus whispered back, his kisses never ceasing except to tug the belt around Sirius’ bathrobe loose, which fell open so that Sirius was exposed to Remus’ appreciative gaze.

“Thought you wanted me to get all dressed up?” Sirius sniggered into Remus’ mouth as he resumed his kiss. Remus’ soft whine echoed in the back of his throat, obviously torn between dressing Sirius’ up or undressing him completely. So Sirius took it upon himself to pull away and offer a compromise that he thought Remus might be satisfied with, “How about I get all dressed up… then after dinner you can ruin another of your suits.”

“Mmm…” Remus agonised for another long minute, his lips still sealed tightly against Sirius’ until at length and with heavy reluctance he pulled away, “Okay, yes please.”

“Okay. But if I’m doing this, I’m doing it properly. You have to leave the room while I’m getting ready, otherwise you won’t get the full effect when I’m done.”

Remus frowned, looking as though he felt short-changed by this proposal. “And what am I meant to do while you’re getting ready?”

“You could pop down to the kitchen and ask Sybil to rustle us up some hot chocolate?”

“No, you couldn’t possibly mean that.” It was Sirius’ turn to frown, perplexed by Remus’ sudden hot chocolate-denying adamance. “You, the imposing Lord Black, Duke of Staffordshire and most sophisticated member of the House of Lords, wouldn’t possibly have the means to make something as utterly childish as hot chocolate.”

“Oh sod off.” Sirius gave him an affectionate thwack, but missed as Remus jumped away with a grin. “I had it brought in specially for you, you absolute berk.”

“Mhm, sure. I suppose you won’t want me to bring you up a mug then?”

“Maybe I just don’t want you to feel embarrassed about drinking hot chocolate by yourself.”

“How very kind of you. Two hot chocolates coming right up.” Remus winked and was out the door before Sirius could form a retort.

“Don’t hurry back!” Sirius called to the empty corridor, and barely caught the snicker that floated back.

~~~

Remus had presumably found something other than hot chocolate to occupy himself, so by the time he returned to tap at the door, Sirius was almost finished getting ready. “Can I come in?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” He cried. “Wait!”

“Okay, okay,” came the chuckled reply, “I’m waiting. But don’t take too long, I wouldn’t want your hot chocolate to go cold.”

“Always so focused on the hot chocolate,” Sirius grumbled good-naturedly, as he applied the finishing touches – draping a spangled silver cuff over his left ear. “You can come in now. But leave the hot chocolate on the stand by the door, I don’t want any getting on the suit.”

“I see, so you were only teasing me with the hot chocolate,” Remus said as he entered backwards, using his body to nudge open the door, his hands occupied clutching two piping mugs, while Sirius watched unhelpfully from the other side of the room, too wrapped up in the suspense waiting for Remus’ reaction to be of any use. “You never actually had any intention of- oh.”

Remus fell silent as he deposited the mugs and swivelled to face Sirius. His teasing smirk dropped from his face. He stared, expressionless for a moment, and Sirius’ heart clambered into his throat.

“What? You don’t like it? It’s too much isn’t it…”

“Yes. I mean, no it’s not too much, yes I like it. I like it a lot. Fuck me, you look…”

“Alright, but dinner first.” Sirius’ nervous grimace blossomed into a wide smile.

“Sod that.” Remus blurted, apparently unable to stop staring at Sirius. Then he was crossing the room in a few wide strides, reaching out to tangle his hands into Sirius’ hair, pulling him face first into a plunging kiss. He pulled back for a breath, still slightly wide-eyed, but exhaled a small chuckle, taking in Sirius’ newly-mussed appearance. “Sorry, smudged your lipstick a bit.” He smirked, looking not at all apologetic, as he swiped a thumb next to Sirius’ lips.

“And I’d only just done my hair.” Sirius pouted, which Remus seemingly took as an invitation, sinking in for another, slightly less dishevelling, kiss.

“Sorry, darling, you’re just so irresistible like this.”

“So I suppose the rest of the time you could take me or leave me.”

“Not a chance. If I had my way, my lips would be on you as often as possible, but I’d probably give up on breathing right about now if it meant I didn’t have to stop kissing you.”

“I don’t think my makeup would hold up for that long.”

“Don’t care.” Another kiss, and then another, and then Remus was trailing lines over his cheek and jaw, nibbling his earlobe, nuzzling into his hair, all the while Remus’ hands seemed to move with a mind of their own, tugging relentlessly at the thin silk shirt until it came loose from Sirius’ trousers, roaming underneath to sink fingertips into skin.

“Remus…”

More kisses.

“Moony.”

He sucked a love bite underneath Sirius’ jaw.

“Remus, stop.” Sirius had to virtually prise Remus off himself, holding him back at arm’s length, while his wandering lips took a minute to catch up, comically sticking out where they’d been poised to deliver more kisses.

“Sorry, sweetheart, got a bit carried away.”

“I’ll say.” Sirius snorted, his cheeks warm and flushed. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought the idea was to ruin me after dinner.”

“You expect me to sit through dinner with you looking like this? Have you seen yourself? God, darling, you’re- you’re… fucking hell, Sirius, sweetheart…” And when words failed him, Remus tugged Sirius to stand in front of the full-length mirror standing in the far corner of the room. With a put-upon sigh, Sirius slid his eyes from Remus’ wanton look of desire, to take in his own reflection.

The first thing Sirius noticed was that his hair was completely ruined and his makeup was a mess, including his lipstick – Remus’ countermeasure of the single thumb swipe having been entirely ineffectual. The second thing he noticed was that he did look rather delectable, which he had already gathered from a quick glance at the ravenous expression on Remus’ face, but could now see for himself.

He was head to toe in black. Black trousers, black silk shirt, black waistcoat, save for a red line of thread snaking around his left leg all the way up to his waist where it slid seamlessly into a meandering coil across the left panel of his black jacket. He’d looped silver chains around his neck, shimmering beneath the low dip of his partially unbuttoned shirt. His fingers were adorned with rings – sharp points of a four-sided silver star arching over his forefinger, a glinting ruby on his thumb – and in his ears, alongside the dangling cuff, were half a dozen silver studs that danced in the light, set off against his deep red lipstick and smoky charcoal eyeshadow.

But the third thing he noticed, standing out even more against the black and red, were grey eyes staring back at him, cold and stark. The only part of him he couldn’t cover in silk, silver and makeup. Those same spiteful eyes as the ones that had taught him how to fear, taught him how to hurt, how to run away and hide, how to cry silent tears into the dark hours, and never how to love. He had seen those eyes a thousand times. He had seen them tortured and angry and full of hate. He had seen them scared and guilty and brimming with suspicion. And when he thought about the stranger in the reflection, thought about the other life he might have lived, one where those eyes had seen something that looked like the love he thought he might have felt, something got trapped beneath the glass.

“Sirius? What’s wrong?”

Sirius blinked himself back into his bedroom, only then realising that around his smudged makeup a tear had fallen leaving a dark track over his powdered cheek. Remus expression was furrowed in concern, where a moment ago he had been admiring his work on its living frame.

“No- nothing.” Sirius rubbed harshly at the incriminating line, smudging his makeup further, and forced a hollow laugh. He was firmly facing the mirror, but he lowered his gaze away from the taunting reflection. “God, my makeup’s already ruined. I’ll have to start over.”

“Sirius. Talk to me, please.” Remus pressed a hand against Sirius’ back, running soothing circles between his shoulder blades. Sirius leaned into the touch.

“It’s fine, I’m being stupid.” He tried to laugh it off, but it sounded more like a startled hiccough.

“You know…” Remus started carefully, “You get this funny look on your face sometimes. I noticed it the first time you came into the shop, and you were staring into the mirror, so lost in thought… you seemed… I don’t know, but I’d like to. I’d like to know what you’re thinking.”

 “It’s silly, really, nothing serious.”

“I thought you were always Sirius?” Remus joked, but he barely smiled, his lips only turning up slightly at Sirius’ laboured eyeroll. “You’ve listened to all of my nonsense on countless occasions. And I’m sure whatever this is, is much less silly.”

Sirius hesitated.

“I don’t know… It’s going to sound stupid and overdramatic, but-” He bit his lip and glanced at Remus, who was waiting patiently for him to continue. “I really hate my eyes. They’re so cold and… empty. I’ve always thought they were made for hating things. Sometimes I wish I could dress them up too. And other times I’m so dressed up, I think I’m an entirely different person, like I’ve lost myself. It feels like maybe, if I dress the part, if I fool everyone, maybe I can fool myself a bit too.” Then he huffed a frustrated sigh, struggling to articulate the churning doubts and drumming fears. “I’m sorry I’m not making sense.”

Remus paused for a moment, considering, but never ceasing the soothing motions of his hand against Sirius’ back. “I can’t claim to understand what you’re going through, but it doesn’t sound stupid at all. It sounds… complicated. But even if you don’t know who you are behind all this, I see you Sirius. I see you with all of this and without. Maybe you won’t believe me, but I don’t think anything could hide what makes you so... well, you. You’re incredible, I think. Fucking brilliant, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Oh shut up, you.” Sirius groaned, but he was smiling now, and Remus let out a light chuckle, which fell into a sincere smile as he pushed Sirius’ head up until their eyes met.

“I mean it. You amaze me. And I don’t mean the titles or any of this.” He gestured to the room around, “I mean you. And your eyes. I don’t think they were made for hate. I think… I think your eyes have so much love in them. A lot of pain and confusion, yes, but so much love. I think more than you know what to do with. And I think maybe you haven’t had enough love in your life, so you don’t recognise it, but it’s there. Your eyes aren’t cold, Sirius. I… I love your eyes.”

Sirius’ breath caught.

“I love you. All of you.”

“Oh.”

“And it’s okay if you can’t say it back right now. I’ll say it enough for the both of us. I love you.”

Sirius’ mouth formed another, breathless ‘oh’, but it was swallowed in Remus’ kiss. All too soon Remus was pulling away again.

“I love seeing you in my suits, because it’s you. I love knowing that you’re wearing something I made. And I love you just as much without a shred of clothing on, just so you know.” There came the smug smirk again, and then he was pulling Sirius towards the bed, all thoughts of dinner or hot chocolate forgotten. Remus’ fingers found the buttons on Sirius’ waistcoat, unfastening them in a few deft movements, and pushing it over his shoulders with the jacket planting another, torturously soft kiss against his neck. “Let me show you.”

“What happened to ruining another suit?” Sirius murmured, lost in the intensity of Remus’ focused gaze.

“We can spare the suit, this time. Otherwise, we’ll be going through them faster than I can make you new ones. You’ll have nothing left to wear to parliament.” And though his words were spoken in humour, Remus’ voice was low and sincere.

“Guess I’ll have to go naked.”

“Mmm, ‘fraid I can’t allow that. You’re a fucking adonis, you are. Can’t have everyone falling in love with you. ”

“Only you, Moony.” Sirius whispered shyly, and Remus’ eyes flickered up from where they’d been focused on his shirt buttons to meet Sirius’.

“I love you.” He whispered, sending a ripple down Sirius’ spine, and kissed his collarbone.

“Remus…”

“I love you. I love smearing your lipstick.” He pressed his lips against Sirius’ again, as if to demonstrate.

Sirius’ shirt fell loose, and Remus kissed his shoulders.

“I love you.” He said again.

Kissed his arms, I love you. Kissed down his spine, I love you. Kissed his waist, I love you. He helped him out of his trousers, kissed his thighs, his knees, the curve of his arse, the soft spot beneath his belly. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. Every kiss was followed by a confession. And each time the words stung a little more, soft splinters in Sirius’ skin, but then he was lapping soothing balm over the open wound with his lips. Sirius wanted him to stop almost as much as he wanted it to never end.

He lay naked on the bed and Remus kissed every inch of him. He shuddered as Remus peppered a line of kisses along the column of his shaft, swollen and aching at the featherlight touches and the cruel whispers of ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’.

“Remus…” Sirius groaned when Remus stood up again. Wordlessly, Remus pulled away and began shucking off his own clothes. He started to sit up, hoping for a better view or to leave the bed altogether and be next to Remus, help free him of the unnecessary fabric, but Remus stopped him.

“Stay there, Sirius. Wait for me, darling.” Seconds passed in agonising silence, save the rustle of Remus’ clothes. Sirius grew harder in the suspense, driven to distraction by the need to be on Remus, to have Remus on him, yet knowing that he’d do exactly what Remus said, whenever he said it, because he loved it when Remus was in control. Loved it when Remus told him what to do and how to be. Loved it when Remus was delivering cruel touches and depriving him of his own need, all the while murmuring sweet words. Loved it when those touches turned soft and sweet and the words turned harsh and demeaning. Loved that no matter what Remus said or did, Sirius knew he was safe.

Remus returned to the bed as promised, free of all clothing, and resumed kissing over Sirius’ body, starting at his chest and working his way down to his waist and along the inside of his thighs, all the while chasing each kiss with the unrelenting murmurs of ‘I love you’. Sirius heard himself whimper when Remus skated past his erection for a third time.

“Ssh, sweetheart, I’m not done showing you how much I love you yet. Turn over for me, love.” And Remus helped Sirius flip onto his front, helpless against the onslaught of affection, as Remus continued tracing up the inside of his thigh, reaching his cheeks and spreading them apart with his hands, running his tongue along the open cleft. Sirius bucked against the bed when Remus’ tongue flickered over his hole, could feel his cock leaking all over his expensive sheets at the gentle attention Remus was paying him there. Sirius was lost in a heady mess of murmured admiration and too tender touches, as Remus spread him open with a slow, teasing tongue and then a single, careful finger coated with lubricant that Sirius hadn’t even noticed Remus retrieving from the bedside drawer. It was slow and soft and it filled Sirius with warmth and the inescapable feeling of being loved, wholly, bodily.

Remus continued lapping at Sirius’ arse as he inserted a second finger, taking his time to gently ease in and then slowly open Sirius up little by little, stretching his fingers inside, pushing deeper and deeper until he was stroking against Sirius’ prostate. He lingered there, crooking his knuckles inside Sirius, thrusting gently, stroking that knot of intense pleasure over and over, not even stopping Sirius when his hips began to undulate against the covers in time with the movement of Remus’ fingers until he came into the sheets.

Remus stopped after Sirius’ orgasm, letting him recover, not pushing his over-sensitive nerves. He nudged Sirius to turn back onto his front and drew up next to him, until his lips were back next to Sirius’ ear, whispering, “I love when you come for me, darling. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Fuck, Remus...” Sirius could only moan, reaching blindly for Remus’ erection which he could feel firm and insistent against his thigh. When he took hold of it, Remus began rocking gently into Sirius’ hand, pulling him into a deep kiss, his moans hitting the back of Sirius’ throat. He continued to roll his hips against Sirius as he pulled away from the kiss to resume his deep murmuring.

“I love how you feel around me, sweetheart. I love your hands, love how you touch me. Nngh, that’s it, sweetheart, I love when you do that,” he moaned louder when Sirius moved his hand, brushing over the tip of Remus’ cock and twisting his palm the way he knew Remus liked. “Love you darling, so perfect for me.”

Remus’ words became a slurred nonsensical stream of love and moans as he came closer and closer to his climax, until he was coming hard over Sirius’ hand and thigh, adding to the mess of Sirius’ earlier orgasm.

Without waiting for the heat of his climax to come down, Remus was covering Sirius’ body with his own, pressing in for a deep kiss, lazily dragging his tongue against the roof of Sirius’ mouth, and pushing his stomach down against Sirius’ cock which had stirred with renewed interest as he’d been bringing Remus to the edge. In no time at all, with their bodies pressed against each other, exchanging deep, clumsy kisses, Remus and Sirius were both hard again.

“Remus, Moony, I want you inside me.”

“Of course, love.” Remus hummed, “On your front? Or like this?”

“Like this. Want to keep kissing you, want to see you.”

“Love kissing you, sweetheart.”

“Moony, please…” Sirius wasn’t sure if he was begging for the sweet words to stop or for Remus to push inside, but whichever it was Sirius’ plea was ignored.

“Love your sweet arse, darling.” Remus’ voice rumbled low against Sirius’ throat, as he lowered to line himself up between Sirius’ legs, and then proceeded to rock his erection against Sirius, brushing over his hole but not lining up enough to push inside. He continued this motion for a while longer, catching against Sirius’ rim once or twice, teasing.

“Please Remus, fuck me.”

“Mm, I do love fucking you, darling.” But he still didn’t stop grinding against Sirius.

“You love teasing me.”

“I do. You’re so fun to tease, sweetheart.”

“Please, it’s been so long. I’ve been waiting forever to have your cock in me again.”

“You’ve been so patient, Sirius. What’s a few more minutes.”

“Remus…” Sirius whined, and then nearly choked when Remus took hold of Sirius’ cock with a tight grip, moving his hand ever so slowly with just enough pressure to send Sirius’ head spinning.

“I love how you beg.”

“Remus, please, please, please.”

“Please what, Sirius?”

“Please put your cock inside me, please Remus, I need you.”

“Oh sweetheart, I love how good you are for me.” And finally – finally – Remus reached between them, angling his cock to press into Sirius, still moving slowly but unrelenting as he pushed in deeper and deeper, filling Sirius, that satisfying stretch around Remus’ hard, hot cock as it pushed all the way in. He released Sirius’ weeping erection and cupped Sirius’ thighs with both hands, pulling them back against his shoulders until he was fully seated, hitting that perfect spot that had Sirius slurring a stream of curses and praises.

Remus groaned long and low as he pulled out and then pushed back in with measured patience, making sure Sirius felt every inch pressing into him, felt the absent pressure, and then felt the crashing waves of pleasure when it returned again and again. He rocked long, gentle strokes in and out, alternating occasionally with short, undulating rolls of his hips pressed tight against Sirius’ entrance so that Remus’ buried cock rubbed firmly against his prostate eliciting ecstatic cries from Sirius’ lips, which Remus craned down to collect between his teeth.

“God, did I- ohhhh, sweetheart, fuck…” he growled, thrusting in deeper as Sirius clenched around him, “did I mention how much I love your arse.”

“Mmh, uh- oh fuck! Remus…”

“I love being inside you.” Sirius reached for his own cock, neglected and throbbing between his legs, so close to release, stroking himself firmly in time with Remus’ thrusts.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes, Remus.”

“I love the noises- ah, love the noises you make.”

“Remus, please…”

“L-love how you look when you’re this close.”

“Fuck- ah, fuck, Remus, please I want to come.”

“Mmm, god sweetheart, me too, almost-”

“Please, Remus, please, please- I want- I want-”

“Ah- come for me, love.” Sirius let go clenching tightly over Remus’ cock as he came, his hole fluttering around Remus’ cock as thick ropes of come streamed from his tip, going over both their chests. Remus followed soon after, hot liquid filling Sirius inside and he gripped Remus’ cock harder, wanting to take everything Remus had to offer.

They stayed tangled together for what felt like hours, Sirius reluctant to let Remus roll off of him even once they were both soft and Remus had slipped out of him.

“I think we have to get up soon, cariad.” Remus seemed to grumble even as he suggested it, “Shower and then dinner? The hot chocolate will have gone cold by now.”

“I want to stay like this forever.” Sirius mumbled into Remus’ stubbled cheek.

“We should probably eat a proper meal at least once today.”

“Fifteen more minutes? You’re warm and I’m comfy. And I’ll make you another hot chocolate after dinner.”

“You mean you’ll let me make another hot chocolate after dinner.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“I love you.” Remus answered.

Chapter Text

The next evening found the two of them tangled together on a small loveseat in the drawing room on the third floor. It had rained again in the afternoon, so they’d been admiring the garden from the safety of the warmth inside to avoid inciting Minerva’s wrath at further unwarranted indoor flooding. The air was heavy with the damp summer rain, but Sirius felt as though nothing could weigh down his mood, sharing soft conversations with Remus about everything and nothing at all. It was the cosiest of Sirius’ many rooms, and the staff never disturbed him there. So, as they became drowsy beneath the grey sky, Remus had no reservations about lying his head in Sirius’ lap while Sirius happily traced lines across his smiling face with his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus whispered, his soft accent slipping out with his drowsy question as he pried a single eye open, the contented smile still resting on his lips. Sirius, who hadn’t noticed his thoughts wandering far from his immediate surroundings and the beautiful man in his lap, only now registered his own wrinkling frown.

“Oh… I was thinking about Regulus actually.” His mind had drifted towards the legal research he’d been working on that still lay in scattered piles in the library, undisturbed since the night before Remus’ arrival. Remus stayed silent, apparently waiting to see if Sirius would continue. “It’s… well, it’s a bit boring to be honest, but I’m trying to find a way to protect him from my mother. Protect us both, actually. It could… I’m nowhere close to finding a solution yet, but theoretically, it would mean that we could- that you and I could be together without having to worry about her or anyone else.”

Sirius watched carefully for Remus’ reaction. He had been reluctant to mention anything about his research to Remus, or Regulus, or James, or anyone he could disappoint if he failed. Remus’ expression, however, remained unreadable.

“Sirius, that’s… How long have you been working on it?”

“Every day since that night at James’.” Sirius shrugged, about to return to tracing the shape of Remus’ nose when Remus sat up.

A slow suspicion edged into his voice accompanied by a small, doting smile. “You want to be working on it now, don’t you?”

“No. No, no, it’s fine. I want to be with you right now.” Truth be told, it had been nagging him a little. The first day Remus had arrived, Sirius had been too elated to think of anything else, and their second day together had similarly passed in a blurred delight. Still, Sirius had quickly grown used to having Remus around and as they settled into a quiet rhythm of existing in each other's company, a small tugging feeling had crept back into the corners of his mind to pester him with the image of neglected heavy tomes sprawled half-open, unfinished and waiting.

“It’s okay, Sirius. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean your whole life has to stop. Besides, you’ve spent enough time watching me work without complaint. Well, mostly without complaint.” Sirius gave Remus’ shoulder a light pinch at the slight jab, and Remus grinned back, sticking his tongue out through his crinkling smile. But then he was looking at Sirius expectantly, his eyebrow raised as though he already knew what the answer would be, though Sirius was still undecided.

“I suppose…” He said at length, still hesitant, “if you’re sure you don’t mind. It’ll probably be very boring, but I do have a whole library of books you can peruse while I’m working. They’re mostly legal texts, but I’m sure there’s at least one shelf that has something half-decent you could read.”

“Here I was thinking I couldn’t bear to spend another minute alone with you, but now that there’s a whole library on offer…” Sirius pouted at the teasing, and Remus gave a little apologetic chuckle, leaning forwards to peck a kiss onto Sirius’ lips. “Darling, I love keeping you company. You don’t need to bargain with books for that to be true.”

So Sirius led them down to the library, between the neatly piled stacks towards the desk at the back of the room where the hefty books he’d been scouring were piled high, spilling open in pages creased with dog-eared marks and dark notations in Sirius’ fastidious handwriting.

“What is all this?” Remus asked curiously, squinting at the tiny font printed onto pages so thin they were almost transparent.

“Law books, mostly. Historical cases, legal definitions, recent changes to national legislation – that sort of thing.” It was enough to send Sirius to sleep, but Remus listened with interest – feigned or not, Sirius wasn’t sure.

“I see.” Remus’ brow was creased in concentration, and he chewed his bottom lip the way he did when he was thinking particularly hard. Sirius fought the urge to kiss the furrowed expression off his face, but instead focused on answering Remus’ next question, “And they’ll help you with your mother?”

“I hope so. I’m trying to find a precedent.”

“For what?”

Sirius heaved a deep sigh, almost a groan, that carried with it the weight of all the frustration that had been mounting over the previous week at his increasingly futile research. It had been his exhaustion at running into dead end after dead end that had resulted in him extending the impromptu invitation to Remus in the first place.

“My father’s will is rather ironclad. Seems he suspected I might try to do something like this, so I need a basis to contest it. I have the titles, the rights to the main estate, and nominal control over the family holdings, but Orion wrote in a subclause stipulating that my mother still has final say over the estate until I’m married, or she dies. Sadly, I don’t have the stomach for matricide, and my only other option would be to contest the will – which would be fine, except that my uncle Cygnus was the previous Lord Chief Justice and has almost the entire legal system in his pocket. So, I either need a solid precedent for appeal, or I need to find some other way around it.”

“That sounds… erm, complicated?”

Sirius gave a bitter snort, “It is a bit. Hence why I’ve been spending so much time in here lately.”

Remus held him in another long, lingering look of fondness, and then said, “Well, I don’t want to get in the way of all that big thinking you’re doing. Point me to the half-decent books and I’ll keep myself occupied.”

“Will you come sit by me?” Sirius asked in a quiet afterthought.

“Of course, cariad,” Remus smiled softly, leaning in for another short kiss, before he turned to peruse the shelves. Sirius’ gaze lingered on Remus for a moment longer, feeling a little as though he were in a dream, but then he shook himself out of his happy daze and sank down into the heavy walnut chair at the desk. He gave another deep sigh and resumed where he’d left off several nights ago.

Usually, it was enough to send Sirius to sleep, but nothing had ever mattered as much as this before. Before Remus, Sirius had been ready to accept his inevitable fate, living under his mother’s thumb, doing just enough to keep his independence, but never enough to be more than a perpetual disappointment, a stain on their Noble and Most Ancient house. Before Remus, his path in life had been clear – marry some woman he didn’t love, create heirs to please his mother, drink himself to an early grave. Just like his father.

Even Regulus, Sirius thought with more than a little guilt. Before Remus, he had never imagined reconciling with his brother. And while he hoped they might have found each other again eventually, he couldn’t deny that before Remus, notions of forgiveness – of love in any form – had seemed a remote impossibility.

“I’m going to go see if I can rustle up a cuppa. Can I get you anything?”

Sirius looked up in surprise to find Remus standing over him, the book he’d been reading closed and set back on the table. Sirius had become so entrenched studying the minutiae of inheritance laws that he’d almost forgotten Remus’ presence save for a steady comfort in the background, accompanying his work. Checking the excessively large ornate clock on the wall opposite, he saw they’d been there for more than three hours; it was nearly nine o’clock.

“Sorry, Moony, I didn’t realise the time.”

“It’s okay, love, you looked focused; I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Shall I call for dinner?”

“I’m not all that hungry, if you want to keep working?” Sirius chewed the inside of his cheek, torn between feeling guilty for wasting his time with Remus and being quite involved in what he’d just been reading. Remus’ face fell into an affectionate smile, making Sirius’ decision for him. “You keep working. Tea or hot chocolate?”

“Tea, please.”

“Coming right up, dear.” Came Remus’ light teasing tone before he disappeared in search of tea.

Sirius became absorbed in his work again once more, so much so that he jumped when Remus returned, placing a mug of tea in front of him. He chuckled softly at Sirius’ surprise.

“I have to know what you’re reading that’s so fascinating.”

“Oh some boring drivel about property tax.”

“Doesn’t look boring, the way you’re reading it…”

“I think I might have found something that could help,” Sirius admitted, feeling something akin to motivation, or perhaps even excitement, “but I’m not quite sure how yet.”

“Want to tell me about it? I probably won’t understand a word, but maybe talking it through out loud might help you figure it out?”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. If you think it might help you?”

“Alright. Thank you.”

Remus came to perch against the table next to Sirius, as he clutched his own mug of tea between his hands and waited with patient interest.

“So… what it is… there’s this caveat to how selling a property works, in that it’s an exceptional circumstance if it’s a donation to a not-for-profit organisation or charitable purpose. It essentially unlinks the leaseholder from the property, or properties, but there’s an addendum stating that the donor can opt to include or exclude any boundaries from the donation. For instance, you could donate the land around a house, but keep the house. Now, obviously this doesn’t help directly, but the stipulation in my father’s will obliges me to uphold my position as Lord Black and all that entails, meaning that I can’t just step aside and let it pass along. Not that I would do that to Regulus, but my mother’s influence extends to all aspects of the Black family estate, which – as long as I’m head of the estate – includes me. I’m allowed to liquidate a limited portion of assets each year, but given the size of our holdings, it would take me about twenty years to completely extricate myself. Orion’s will says nothing about charity, though. Probably because the idea of giving things away for nothing never occurred to him, so in theory I could sell enough for me and Reg to live off for a while and donate the rest. The problem with this, though, is that such an extensive upheaval would require board approval and Walburga has leverage on almost every single member. So, while it’s all theoretically possible, in practice it amounts to nothing.”

Sirius barely paused for breath as he spoke, his brain untangling the knots as he went, trying to puzzle a way out. He was so preoccupied with the problem at hand that he hadn’t noticed Remus’ expression changing as he spoke.

“What?” He asked, unable to make out the way Remus was staring at him from where he still leaned against the desk, something heated in his eyes beneath raised eyebrows, his lips parted ever so slightly.

He breathed out a deep breath, brushing heat into Sirius’ cheeks.

“You’re amazing.” He stated simply. “I mean I always knew you were brilliant, but that was…”

“It’s not much, really. And it’s all completely useless if I can’t find a precedent.” Sirius shrugged and tried hard to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks, but then Remus raised a hand to cup Sirius’ jaw, stroking a thumb over his blush.

“I think it’s pretty fucking impressive, actually.” He said in a low murmur, leaning down until his face was level with Sirius’, then with his hand still against Sirius’ jaw, Remus lifted his chin to press a few soft kisses against his neck. He continued murmuring between his kisses, “You keep saying that you’re not skilled at anything, but Sirius the way your mind works… God, is it bad that I’m a little bit turned on right now?”

“I… I suppose this legal bollocks isn’t all that bad when there’s a purpose to it.” Sirius swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob under Remus’ lips. “In fact… in fact…”  But Sirius forgot what he’d been about to say when Remus’ other hand appeared, tugging at the buttons of Sirius’ shirt.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, then.” Remus said and just as Sirius was about to protest, he continued with a smirk. “You’ve been so focused on your research all evening, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re going to let a little distraction keep you from all this wonderful work you’re doing.”

Remus clamped his lips over Sirius’ neck, and Sirius couldn’t fight back the moan that rolled free from his throat under the hot, firm pressure of Remus’ kiss.

“I… I don’t need to… oh, fuck!” Sirius exclaimed. Remus’ hands had found their way beneath his shirt, pinching Sirius’ sensitive nipples, his teeth still grazing along the underside of Sirius’ jaw.

“I thought you wanted to keep working?” Remus goaded, slipping between Sirius’ legs and lowering himself onto his knees beneath the table, staring up at Sirius with an innocent expression, his large brown eyes full of mischief.

“Remus…”

“Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart, I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.”

“I can’t… I want to… I-”

“Of course you can, sweetheart. You’re so brilliant and clever and so good for me, always. This shouldn’t be difficult for you at all.” He hummed in a mocking pensiveness, tapping his finger against Sirius’ belt, as if in deep thought. “Tell you what. You be good and keep reading for another… Let’s see, it’s nine o’clock now, so thirty minutes? Yes, I think that should do it. Keep reading for the next thirty minutes, and if you’re good for me I’ll give you a reward for all your hard work. How does that sound?”

Sirius whimpered. Then surrendered with the smallest of nods, Remus’ smirk curling into a wicked grin the instant Sirius agreed, and Sirius thought not for the first time that he might be the actual devil. But Sirius so wanted to be good for Remus, so he tried to ignore his own quickening pulse, the hot churning pleasure already surging through his body at the thought of the delectable torment he was about to be subjected to, and instead returned to focusing on the chapter he’d been reading.

He managed to get a few sentences in, despite Remus’ hands working at the remaining buttons of his shirt, freeing up Sirius’ bare torso for Remus’ lips to fasten light, scattered kisses over his stomach and along his waist. Sirius felt the heat curling up between his legs, as Remus’ lips brushed beneath his navel with the barest of touches, but, clearing his throat in determination, he focused again on the black ink on the pages in front of him. It was short-lived, however, and Remus quickly moved onto the next barrier of clothing, running his hands along the zip of Sirius’ trousers with just enough pressure for Sirius’ rapidly hardening erection to make itself known.

Sirius found himself re-reading the same passage several times without a single word going in, as Remus deftly loosened his buckle and then – in a manoeuvre that had Sirius ready to slam the book shut – took the zip of Sirius’ flies between his teeth and dragged them open.

Eyes fixed on the blurry lines of the page in front of him, Sirius could feel Remus watching him closely. Watching the flush of heat colouring Sirius’ skin, watching the way he swallowed deeply, and watching for any slight sign that Sirius was doing anything other than reading. But Sirius was good, and more to the point, he was stubborn. So, he kept his eyes steadily moving across the page, even when the words became little more than thin dark squiggles as everything, except for the feeling of Remus’ fingers tugging at the waistband of his briefs, fell out of focus.

Sirius tried again to pay attention to what he was reading, but the words tangled in his mind, knotted between thoughts of nimble fingers tracing lines against his thighs and soft warm breaths tickling the hot skin beneath his briefs. All hope was lost when Remus’ lips found their way to his cock, bare and exposed where Remus had slowly and carefully removed his clothes.

“That must be some book…” Remus pulled away from where he had been trailing soft licks along the length of Sirius’ erection. Shaken out of his daze, Sirius looked down to find Remus staring smugly up at him, his lips brushing against the silky skin of Sirius’ tip as he spoke. “You’re making such lovely noises, darling.”

Sirius, who only now realised he’d been moaning softly under Remus’ touches, blushed deeply at his words.

“What were you reading about?”

“I… um, I…” Sirius spoke dumbly and Remus tutted.

“Dear me, Lord Black. Not very focused are you?”

“Remus…” Sirius didn’t tried back to hold back the whine in his own voice.

“Ssh, sweetheart. It’s only been a few minutes. I thought you were going to be good? Can you do that for me, love?”

Sirius nodded without a sound, and turned with gritted determination back to the book in front of him, only to squeeze his eyes shut in desperate effort to conceal his moans as Remus fastened his lips over the tip of his cock and began to suck him into the warm heat of his mouth. Luckily, Remus didn’t seem to notice, too busy now working his tongue expertly over Sirius. So Sirius gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white, and watched the seconds tick by on the clock in excruciating pleasure. Sirius felt certain that the clock was conspiring against him and he had to hold himself back from bucking his hips against Remus’ mouth when his lips sunk fully down his length, burying his head against Sirius’ hips. Then Remus, in a moment of unmitigated cruelty, gave a drawn-out moan around Sirius’ cock, the vibrations sending shivers of ecstasy to every nerve in Sirius’ body as he shuddered against the chair.

“Remus…” He gasped, “M’going to-”

Then the intoxicating heat of Remus’ mouth vanished, as he pulled away completely, freeing his mouth to speak. “It hasn’t been thirty minutes yet, darling.”

“But-”

“Be good, Lord Black.” And that was all he said, far from helping Sirius’ predicament, before he sunk back over Sirius’ cock redoubling his efforts, squeezing Sirius tightly at the base to stop him from coming, even as he dragged his lips and tongue over Sirius’ cock, his movements gathering momentum. He bobbed his head over Sirius, tonguing teasingly at the leaking tip as Sirius’ cock grew cold in the absent warmth of Remus’ mouth, before returning all the way to the base, subsuming Sirius in a torturous damp heat as he felt his cock hit the back of Remus’ throat, completely consumed by his hands and mouth. Remus held there for a long moment, swallowing around him, sending waves of pleasure along his cock, to the base of his spine and throughout his body. It took every ounce of Sirius’ strength not to release the table to grab a handful of Remus’ fluffy honey-brown hair and begin thrusting into that gorgeous mouth, but at long last the clock chimed half past the hour. Remus kept going though, seemingly lost in his task of swallowing Sirius whole.

“Remus, nghhh… darling, it’s half- ah- it’s half past… please!”

“Hmm?” Remus released Sirius, pulling up between his legs and wiping his lips, slick with spit and Sirius’ precome, on the back of his hand. His eyes were a little glazed over, and his smirk fell crooked as he met Sirius’ gaze.

“It’s half past…”

“Oh, so it is.” Remus grinned, and sat up on his knees to whisper between Sirius’ lips, “So good for me, darling. You deserve a break after all this hard work you’ve been doing. Tell me, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

Sirius closed the gap between their mouths, pressing his tongue between Remus’ lips savouring the lingering taste of himself on Remus’ tongue. He put a great deal of effort into attempting to sound breezy when he was already so close to finishing after the half hour in Remus’ mouth. “What did you have in mind?”

 “I was thinking I could help you wind down? Upstairs, I thought. In your bed, maybe?”

“Seems an awful long way…” Sirius mumbled.

“Mmm, you have been working so hard, darling. Want me to take care of you here?”

Sirius nodded, entranced by the dancing smirk in those sweet brown eyes, even as they offered him everything. His mouth turned suddenly dry, the words getting caught in his throat, struggling to get the sound out beneath the weight of Remus’ heated gaze.

“Go on, darling, tell me what you want.”

“Mm… I want you, Remus.” Sirius rasped, “Here, now, please.”

“Yeah? Where do you want me?” and Remus rose to his feet, towering over Sirius. Remus watched him patiently, the satisfied curve of his smirk growing wider as he twirled his thick black locks between his fingers, stroking his knuckles against Sirius’ cheek.

“Desk.” Sirius stuttered. “Want… I want you to bend me over. Would you?”

 “Anything you want, darling.” Remus moaned softly and leaned over him, tipping Sirius’ head back with a finger at his chin, drinking in a deep kiss, a reward for all the work he’d been doing. Sirius moaned into Remus’ mouth and felt warm fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him in deeper. Then Remus flipped him to face the desk, pressing up behind him, and Sirius could feel the hard outline of Remus’ cock brushing against his arse.

“Fuck, please, I need you. Need your cock in me Moony, please.”

“Mmm, I love you so much.” And Sirius’ hips jolted inadvertently at Remus’ words. He heard a small snigger behind him.

“Oi. That’s not fair!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I just love how responsive you are.”

“Remus…” it came out as little more than a whine this time, as Sirius arched his back, pressing himself back against the outline of Remus’ cock. Remus moaned at the renewed pressure. He pushed back against Sirius with his hips, jolting him off balance, and Sirius fell forward, his hands landing on the table in front of him. A page ruffled up underneath his hand, but Sirius couldn’t find it in himself to care if he tore the page completely with Remus pressed up against him, pressing kisses against the back of his neck, his wandering hands stroking up and down his torso.

Sirius whined a little when Remus stepped back, and he heard the muffled zipping sound of Remus freeing himself and the sharp click of the lubricant bottle. He looked back at Remus in mild disbelief.

“Where’d you get that from?” he demanded.

“Brought it back with me when I went to get the tea.” Remus shrugged with a sly grin.

“You dirty minx, Moony, you planned this!” He accuse, and Remus grinned wider, returning to press a deep kiss against his mouth.

“Well you have been working so hard, sweetheart.” He said when they parted again, keeping their bodies pressed close, “Thought you could use a bit of… relaxation.”

“Mmm, you’re so thoughtful.” Sirius hummed, and let himself be turned back towards the table, directed by Remus’ hands to spread his legs, as he felt the soft nudging pressure of Remus’ fingers against his entrance. “Always treat me so well, Moony.”

“Only the best for you, Lord Black.” And then two fingers began pressing into him, slick and cold, easing him open slowly, teasingly. Sirius gave a long, low groan at the familiar sensation, feeling it spread through him in relief.

Remus continued to work Sirius open, gradually adding a third finger, before he returned to rutting lightly against Sirius’ arse, his hard prick dipping into the soft flesh of Sirius’ cheek. Remus lined himself up with Sirius’ hole and Sirius raised a hand up behind him and tangled his fingers into Remus’ hair, needing to feel more of him, needing all of him, and pulled his mouth close into a clumsy kiss.

“How do you want it, love?” Remus asked, his cock nudging at Sirius’ entrance, and Sirius bucked at the slight intrusion.

“Make me feel it, Moony. Fuck me ‘til I can’t walk straight.” Remus growled at that, and drove his cock in without remorse, knocking Sirius forward onto his elbows, held up only by Remus’ arm around his chest. He gripped Sirius’ hip with his other hand for leverage to pull out and then slam back into Sirius without waiting for him to adjust. Their moans joined in a loud exclamation of pleasure, echoing around the shelves of the library. Sirius rocked back against Remus’ hips, angling himself until Remus hit that knotted pleasure buried deep, and gave another long moan.

“Ahhh, Remus. Feels so good.”

“Mhm, me too sweetheart. Fuck, I love you so much.” It left Remus in an exhilarated gasp and swept through Sirius in a burst of other-worldly pleasure.

“I-” but Sirius was interrupted by Remus pulling out and slamming his hips back in with renewed force. Then Remus was setting a brutal pace, and Sirius felt the table shaking beneath him, the scattered books beneath him all but forgotten, every thought preoccupied with the fullness of Remus inside him, pressing deep within him. Remus arched over Sirius, leaving scattered kisses down Sirius’ spine as his hips hammered into him, slapping the soft skin of his arse, until Sirius was sure it was sore and red. He cried out without restraint, which only seemed to spur Remus on more. It was all too much and not enough. Remus was inside him and around him and everywhere all at once, he was all Sirius could feel, all he could think. In that moment, he was all that mattered.

“Remus, ah- Remus, want to see you.” Sirius managed to burst out between Remus’ unrelenting thrusts. Remus pulled out roughly, gasping breathless pants, and Sirius turned in Remus’ arms to find his face flushed and gorgeous and shiny with sweat at the exertion of their movements. “Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Mmm, says you.” Remus managed to breath, before arching over Sirius, tilting his head back, teasing Sirius’ mouth open between his lips, his tongue licking searchingly between Sirius’ teeth, open him deeper as if drawing breath from Sirius’ lungs. Sirius ran his hands over Remus’ body, the heat fizzing beneath his finger tips as he stroked over Remus’ chest and arms and back before coming to rest against his hips, pulling them together, Remus began rutting his cock against Sirius’, almost an automatic response, as though his hips no longer knew how to do anything else. Then Remus was bracing his hands around Sirius’ thighs and pulling them up around his waist, until Sirius’ feet left the floor and he was hoisted onto the desk, still wrapped around Remus, his erection painfully sore and throbbing, desperate to come.

“Remus- Remus… I- I- inside me, please I-” Remus obliged, lifting Sirius forward and impaling him on his cock without hesitation, barely needing to line up, as though he instantly knew how to find his way back inside Sirius, and Sirius sighed in deep relief at the feeling of being full. At the sensation of Remus filling him up, of Remus’ heat pressed tightly against him. He felt a satisfied hum leave his throat, but it was swallowed up by Remus who had never once stopped kissing him, even as he resumed his punishing thrusts.

“Oh sweetheart, so- fuck! So fucking good for me-mm,” He murmured into Sirius’ mouth, which had fallen open at the renewed rush of feeling. Remus’ expression was similarly blissed out, his eyebrows drawn up in desperation, mouth slack as it brushed against Sirius in clumsy attempts to continue drinking in kisses between thrusts.

“Nnggh… Remus!”

“Mmh, you’re so loud, darling. Aren’t you worried about someone hearing?” But Remus seemed the opposite of concerned as he thrust particularly hard, coaxing another loud groan from Sirius.

“N-no… don’t- ah- don’t care.”

“Is that- is that right? Want everyone to hear you? Want everyone to know how desperate you are for me?”

“Mmm yes, Remus, yes please!”

“So good for me, darling, so lovely, so bloody brilliant, fuck I love you so much,” Remus’ praises rushed out in an endless stream around his gasping breaths. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, fuck, Remus, fuck! I’m going to-”

“Not yet- Hold on, ah- hold on for me darling. I’m close…”

“Remus, Remus- I- I-”

“God, you’re perfect. So lovely, and brilliant, and gorgeous. So fucking perfect, darling,” and Remus’ mouth clamped over Sirius’, drinking in his loud cries of pleasure, as he gave one final, deep thrust. Then, taking Sirius’ cock in his hand, with a few rough pulls, he dragged them tumbling over into their climax together.

Remus pulled Sirius into his lap as they slumped back together in the chair. Sirius gave a long, satisfied sigh, squirming until he found a comfortable position and leaned back against Remus’ chest. Arching his neck back to rest his head against Remus’ shoulder, he absorbed the sight of him, flushed and sweaty, from beneath drooping eyelids.

“I think I am going to ask Minerva to make arrangements for a string quartet.” He yawned sleepily, nuzzling at Remus’ neck.

“Are you now?” Remus chuckled, his arms clenching ever so slightly tighter where they were wrapped around Sirius’ waist.

“Mhm, I’ve decided I want that dance after all.”

“I have to warn you, I’m terrible at dancing.”

“Well, first of all, Moony, I don’t believe that’s true for a second. Don’t forget, I’ve been on the receiving end of what those hips can do.” Sirius grinned, still in a blissful daze, earning a light smack from Remus who, incredibly, turned red at Sirius’ comment despite the filthy words he’d been whispering moments earlier. “On the other hand, it’d be lovely to find something you’re not good at for a change.”

“You forget, I’m only good at things I’ve had a lot of practice with. Funnily enough, not much call for dancing in my line of work.”

“Well then, I think it’s about time you got some practice.” Remus pinched his side affectionately, making Sirius squirm, and Sirius nipped at Remus’ neck in retaliation.

“Really Sirius,” came the chiding remark, “answer me honestly now, have you ever not gotten your way?”

“I seem to remember someone was very much stopping me from getting my way not too long ago. In this very chair in fact.”

“Hmm, somehow you’re much more compliant when there’s an orgasm at stake…”

“Gosh, Moony, I wonder why that might be? Besides, it would take away the fun if I was that well-behaved all the time. Too much of a good thing, you know.”

“Is that right? Lucky me then, I guess.”

“Exactly. Lucky you.”

“Oh I love you.” Remus sighed, sounding almost harangued by the thought, though he had already said it more times than Sirius could count, and his twinkling eyes betrayed the truth behind his words.

“So much that you’ll dance with me?” Remus laughed and a fond eyeroll followed, but his face was shining with affection and his voice cloaked in warmth when he answered.

“So much that I’d do anything for you.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say to that, overwhelmed by the force of Remus’ affection. So he returned it the only way he knew how, pulling Remus into a sinking kiss, flooding him with every word he didn’t know how to say out loud, infusing his tongue with surging emotion and pressing meaning against Remus’ mouth with his lips, hoping that somehow Remus might understand.

~~~

Sirius was soaring on a high. Between having Remus all to himself at Godric Hall and his renewed motivation in his legal research, he felt invigorated. He felt strong, he felt like he could accomplish anything, he thought he might even be close to finding a solution to all of his problems. It was heady, it was dizzying, it was as though a permanent channel of warmth had taken up residence in his chest, dislodging the imbrued turmoil, leaving no room for the empty dark to edge in on his newfound contentment. It was all satin sheets and morning kisses, cups of tea strewn about the library, and late nights of ecstatic pleasure. For the first time since he’d arrived at Godric Hall, its rooms were effusing life and Sirius soaked it up like vital sustenance. Enveloped in the sweet early summer heat, the world outside Godric Hall ceased to exist.

The days that followed were some sort of idyllic paradise that Sirius hadn’t known was possible to achieve behind the charred exterior of Godric Hall. The mornings were slow and lazy, and Sirius slept in later than he normally would for the chance to spend longer nestled beside Remus’ sleepy snuffles. Remus, proclaiming that he’d never slept better, was more than happy to stay put until the inevitable gurgles of hunger from their stomachs became too loud to ignore. They spent the better part of their days in the garden, since it was where Remus felt most at ease, and Sirius delivered on his promise to blow Remus against a tree more than once. After spending the long afternoon wandering the grounds until it grew dark, they returned to the house for dinner. In the evenings they set about defiling nearly every room in the house, taking care to keep out of sight of the household staff (much reduced since the initial flurry of the first day), though they wound up returning most often to the bedroom, since Remus had become quite attached to Sirius’ decadent bedsheets.

Sirius didn’t ask when Remus would need to return to work, and Remus didn’t mention it, so they continued to entertain the illusion that Remus’ stay at Godric Hall had no end. Sirius couldn’t foresee any immediate issue with this fantasy, although he knew it was just that. Eventually their uninterrupted time together would have to come to an end, but it was the most time they had spent together since Tuscany, and Sirius was determined to make the most of it.

It was the morning of the fifth day when everything fell apart.

Sirius woke, happier than usual, to the pealing sound of laughter. It drifted into his shrinking dreams, raising a smile to his cheeks before he was even awake, until he was being lifted from the depths of his sleep by the dancing melodic voices floating up from downstairs. To say the sound confused him would be an understatement. Sirius had never woken to the sound of laughter. Not in Grimmauld House, not in Godric Hall, not even when he’d stayed overnight at James’, since any laughter usually involved him, so by necessity he was already awake. Cautiously and taking care to move as silently as possible, he crept out of bed and down the trailing staircases, stopping only to wrap himself in his black velvet dressing gown. He followed the drifting notes of laughter to the study – of all places – and to his amazement found Remus, sitting all relaxed and happy, in that ugly paisley armchair opposite the smiling face of Minerva McGonagall.

Sirius stood breathless and still feeling half-asleep at the sight of Remus sitting in Sirius’ own study, a place where even Sirius himself had never truly felt comfortable, looking entirely at home. He wasn’t convinced he had even woken up, the tableau before him so surreal and dreamlike. And a familiar feeling rose up in Sirius’ chest as he watched Remus laughing brightly at something Minerva had been saying.

It felt like the first time he had stumbled into Remus’ atelier, soaking in the warmth of the maroon walls. Or when he had laughed and smiled over easy conversation with Remus’ friends, feeling completely at ease despite being so far from familiar territory. It was the feeling of waking up to the smell of Remus beside him, wrapped up in strong arms and gentle kisses. It was a feeling Sirius had never expected to find in Godric Hall, because before now, Sirius hadn’t realised that the feeling of ease and comfort didn’t come from the cosy atelier, the lively Welsh pub, or from Florence’s glittering streets. It came from cups of hot chocolate in the middle of the night, from tangled sheets and chaste kisses of afterglow, from dancing in the kitchen and running through the rain. It came from being with Remus, wherever they were, whatever they were doing. That feeling of home.

Out of nowhere the words that Dorcas had said at Christmas came floating back to him. It’s hard to build a home in empty rooms. Sirius thought he finally understood what she had meant.

He was still blinking himself out of his drowsy dazed confusion when Minerva looked up and noticed him standing at the entrance to the study.

“Oh, Lord Black, do excuse us. I hope we didn’t wake you. Mr Lupin was just telling me about… well, anyway.” Minerva cut herself short, with a glint of a knowing smile towards Remus, and they both started chuckling again. Sirius was utterly lost.

“Sorry, cariad,” Remus grinned over his shoulder, “I came down for a cuppa and we got to talking. Did you know you have a genuine Van Eyck?”

“A who?” Sirius squinted blankly, still wiping the sleep from his eyes. Remus gave him a fond look and then made his way over to give Sirius a good-morning peck on the cheek, apparently unbothered by Minerva’s presence, who had buried her head pointedly in the pages of her accounts.

“It’s been lovely chatting Minerva, but I think I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Of course, Remus.” She looked up again with a kindly smile that Sirius had never seen before, “Do pop in anytime, I would love to hear your opinions on the Quattrocento.”

“The what?” Sirius grumbled weakly, his mind still reeling off elsewhere, while Remus steered him back towards the staircase. “She’s never asked me to pop in anytime. It’s my study!”

“Shush, love, let’s get you back in bed. You’re looking too sweet, all sleepy and grumpy.”

“I’m not grump-”

“I might be able to think of a thing or two I can do to help put you in a good mood.”

“Oh, right. Yes, very grumpy.”

“Mhm, thought so.”

“What were you and Minerva talking about anyway?” His head finally clearing the morning haze of his lingering dreams, Sirius stopped them at the base of the stairs, where Remus was already tugging Sirius’ dressing gown loose.

“Oh you know, a little about art, a little about history, a little about our favourite duke…”

“Whatever she said about me it’s not true. I’m an angel, I swear, and I never once tried to burn the furniture – definitely not four times.”

“Right… Well, your previous counts of arson didn’t come up, but that’s good to know.” Sirius must have had an odd expression on his face, because then Remus was laughing. “Relax, darling. I still love you.”

“Oh.” Sirius stilled as the realisation hit him, the realisation that something he had once thought impossible now seemed impossibly easy. Something he thought he’d never be able to say again was now on the edge of his tongue, bursting to be released.

“Why do you look so surprised? Have I not been saying it enough?” Remus smirked again, but didn’t stop trailing his hands over Sirius’ chest and arms, apparently already too preoccupied with the ensuing events upstairs to take Sirius’ mild concern seriously.

And oh, Sirius loved that smirk. Loved the way Remus’ hands felt against his skin. He loved the way his brow creased when he was focused, and the way he gnawed at his bottom lip while his skilful fingers worked away. He loved the way Remus teased, loved the way he grumbled, the way he got all quiet and moody when he was upset. He loved being the person who could coax Remus out of his terse silence. He loved the way they argued, the way they forgave, the way they returned to each other in heated kisses and intoxicating passion. He loved the way Remus believed in him. Loved those warm brown eyes that looked at him with awe and admiration that Sirius had never expected to receive from anyone. He loved the way that Remus loved him. He loved Remus.

“Remus, I-”

But Sirius didn’t get to tell Remus any of that, because then everything unravelled in a tumbling succession of destruction. He should have seen it coming. He did see it coming and still he ignored it. He ignored the warning signs, ignored when Regulus told him to be careful, ignored the rules that Remus had agreed to for Sirius' own benefit, ignored the danger until it was already too late.

The car pulled up in front of the house unnoticed. Remus may have heard, but he didn’t know the warning signs. Sirius did. That was his responsibility, but he had been too wrapped up in his delusions and daydreams to notice until the loud, sharp knock at the door rung out in the hall. In the next instant, Walburga was bursting her way through Sirius’ front door, her heavy ebony cane striking the wood as she walked. And there was Sirius, half-undressed with Remus’ arms around him.

“Mother-”

“Silence.” She ordered, then turned to Remus, “You. What do you think you’re doing here?”

“I-” Remus looked taken aback, and then worried, and then angry as he seemed to realise who he was talking to. He removed his hands from Sirius, taking a step back, and Sirius ached already aware that he had felt Remus’ warmth for the last time. “I’m sorry, Ma’am- Uhm, I mean, Lady-”

“Get. Out.” She hissed. Remus was poised to argue back, but Sirius stopped him.

“Remus, you should go.”

“But-”

“You need to go. Minerva!” Sirius called, his eyes never leaving his mother. Minerva appeared in the hall in an instant.

“Lord Black, how can I- Lady Walburga, we weren’t expecting you.”

“Minerva, please find Frank and see that Remus gets home.” Sirius spoke calmly, but it was a mask for the fear roiling up beneath.

“Lord Black-”

“Sirius-” Remus’ voice sounded pleading.

“Now!” Sirius roared, and in a moment of desperate weakness, he turned his anger towards Remus whose lovely brown eyes were wide and brimming with fear, looking how Sirius felt. There was a flurry of movement, but Sirius had turned his attention back to his mother, vaguely aware of the momentary struggle as Remus attempted to resist. Minerva must have succeeded in getting him to leave, because in the next moment Minerva and Remus were gone, leaving Sirius alone with his mother.

“I am here for Regulus.” The violence in her voice from a moment ago had gone, and she spoke with a sinister calm.

“He’s not here.” Sirius felt ready to run, but there was nowhere to go, so he simply stood, stock still and poised, adrenaline racing, waiting for the inevitable.

“Do not play me for a fool, Sirius. Your brother needs to be home, with me. He is fragile. You cannot possibly take care of him here. I am bringing him back to Grimmauld House where he belongs.”

“I said, he’s not here. He’s somewhere safe. Safe from you.” He waited for her screaming rage to come, but instead she continued calmly.

“If you cared at all for your brother’s well-being, you would realise that the only place he can be safe is with me. You are incapable of looking after yourself, let alone your brother. He needs me. You both need me.”

As much as he tried to keep his expression plain, he could already feel the sting around his eyes where tears threatened to fall. Her words had struck their mark, caught the flaring nerve inflamed by the knowledge that Sirius had failed Regulus for so many years. How could he claim to care about his brother, claim to know what was best when he hadn’t been there when Regulus needed him most.

“I don’t need you.” He hissed instead.

“Of course you do, Sirius. Look at you. Look at the mess you’ve made. I thought you might have learned your lesson by now. I have left you to your own devices long enough with the misguided notion that you might heed my advice. But I have witnessed you fooling around for long enough. To think of you wasting your time gadding about with that simpleton. I should have put a stop to this months ago.”

“You knew?” He choked out at the realisation that every stolen moment, every precaution, every worry, it had all been for nothing. She knew. She knew everything. She had always known.

“You are my son. It is my job to know. I had hoped this foolish behaviour was a misguided dalliance, but I see I was mistaken to put such trust in you. You are clearly incapable of making your own decisions.” Came her sneering dismissal, “You may be a stain on the family’s name, but you are Lord Black and you will live up to your duties. Or I shall see to it that your precious tailor is buried beneath so many legal proceedings that he will have not a penny to his name. It would be a shame if he were unable to provide for himself, let alone that sick father of his.”

All his anger vanished into a vacuum, filling the cavity of his chest as it sucked the air from his lungs and left an icy chill in its wake. Because it was all his fault. He should have been more careful. He should have never made Remus come. He should have been focused on getting Regulus somewhere safe. He should have spent more time working, more time making connections, more time finding a way out, but he was too selfish and too weak. He was a failure and because of him everything was going wrong. Sirius would never get to tell Remus he loved him, and it was all his own fault.

“Mother-”

“Do not interrupt.”

“Please, Mother-”

“I said do not interrupt!” and she raised her cane in a sudden blow that struck Sirius’ right cheek with a stinging reverberation, knocking him to the ground.

Sprawled on the floor, the tears that he’d been fighting so hard to hold back came spilling out. Sirius sobbed quietly into his hand, cradling the fresh gash on his cheek, the salt from his own tears stinging as they washed over the raw wound.

Everything around him became muddled, the stark hallway swirling into a dark blur, as a chill settled into his bones, and a loud humming silence rang through his ears, warping the sound of Walburga’s harsh tones, mingling with the voice in his head. The voice telling him that he was weak, useless, and pathetic. Telling him that his mother was right after all. When Sirius came back to himself moments later, Walburga’s words were still spitting out at him from where she stood over him, a towering shadow.

“Impertinent, careless, selfish fool. It was clearly a mistake to let you run wild all these years. You’ve grown rotten out here in this house by yourself. I should have kept a closer eye on you from the start. You have already proved you can’t be trusted. You are to marry Lady Cecelia and return to your rightful place at Grimmauld House.”

“No.” His voice came out quieter than he’d expected, a soft simple sound rising up from where he was still crouched beneath his mother’s shadow.

“What?”

“No, I won’t.”

“You won’t? You won’t? You would throw your life away for a dalliance with some… tailor.” She spat out the word.

“He’s not some tailor, mother. I love him.” The words left him before he could think. Any other time he would have known better, he would have remembered to think before he spoke, he would have thought about the consequences of saying such a thing to Walburga Black. But Sirius had been caught off guard, and the admission came tumbling out of him. Walburga’s expression flared with rage.

She grabbed his wrist harshly, her nails digging into his arm, pulling him to his feet, dragging him towards her like a ragdoll. “I have given you everything and this is how you repay me? You ungrateful, worthless brat. You are a disgrace. A filthy, useless, pathetic, failure, and I am ashamed to call you my son. Do you think that man loves you? Do you think anyone could love such a foul and worthless creature?”

“Get out of my house.” He snarled.

“Your house? Surely I do not need to remind you that everything you have is thanks to me and your father.”

“Get out!” He screamed, raising his free hand, poised to strike, but he faltered at the last second. Walburga regarded his hand for a moment, unmoved.

“Oh Sirius,” And that familiar disgust weaved its way between her disappointment, “You always were too weak. This is why you need me. You are not strong enough to do what needs to be done. If you were a real man, you would not hesitate,” her nails sank deeper into his skin with each word coming out harsher than the last. He could feel the skin breaking as her grip tightened. “If you cared about your family, about your brother, you would have done what needed to be done a long time ago. But you are weak, you are useless, you are-”

“Lady Walburga, I think you had better leave.” Minerva’s voice came from the entrance, her silhouette standing tall in the morning light that flooded in on her return. His brief glance told Sirius that Remus was not with her. Remus was safe.

“Excuse me?” She turned to face the intrusion, the fury in her voice reigniting with a vicious snarl.

“I apologise for the inconvenience. While I am sure you have much to discuss with Lord Black, unfortunately he has a board meeting he must attend today. He will need to be getting ready now, if he is not to be late. Perhaps it may be prudent to call ahead before visiting in future so that such interruptions can be avoided?”

“How dare-”

“Lord Black,” Minerva continued, resolute despite Walburga’s mounting rage, “Your car will be ready in ten minutes. Please get ready at once, I will make sure your mother is seen safely to her car.”

Sirius managed to wrench himself out of Walburga’s grip and, still reeling from the blow to his cheek, tumbled up the staircase, slamming the door to his room shut behind him and, gasping, collapsed before he could take a step further. He heard voices raised, and was about to return downstairs, fearing what Walburga would do to Minerva, but then he heard the door slam and Minerva’s quick footsteps on the stairs. There was a light tap at his bedroom door.

“Lord Black?” Came her soft voice, full of concern. Sirius was weak, pathetic, selfish, and worthless, so he didn’t answer. “Sirius?”

A moment later he heard Minerva’s receding footsteps.

Sirius didn’t know how long he stayed crumpled on the floor, a trembling shapeless mound in the corner of the room. His cheek stung and his throat was dry. So dry it ached. He wanted to cry, but nothing would come, and his eyes stung with the absent tears. It was as if all the liquid in his body had evaporated, leaving him hollow. There was a void in his chest, below his lungs, where breath and all the light should have been. Swelling feelings of warmth rising in his belly were nothing but a distant memory now, as if he’d never known what it was to be held. As if he’d never known anything but the harsh sting of his mother’s cane striking his jaw. He needed to numb the pain, needed something to fill the emptiness, needed a drink.

With creaking limbs, Sirius crawled to his feet. Thrown off kilter by the force of his mother’s words, he staggered back downstairs, falling against a dusty old cabinet filled with useless china that had never been used for anything other than a grotesque display of vanity. The cabinet shook and china clattered at the movement, but Sirius ignored it and somehow found his way to the liquor shelf in the kitchen. He withdrew bottle after bottle with intent to self-destruct. When he had as much as he could hold clutched in his arms, he returned to shut himself in his room without a word to Minerva who watched dumbfounded when he passed her in the corridor. He thought she might have been saying something, maybe protesting, maybe hoping to comfort him, but Sirius knew only one comfort strong enough and he wasn’t here. So he turned to the bottles instead. He sat crossed legged on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath the weight of the bottles as he laid them out in a row before him, the tilting liquid dancing like elixir catching the summer light refracting through the window.

He admired the bottles for a while, no thought beyond a craving thirst for the shining liquid to soothe in his throat, but something still fought beneath the pounding compulsion to drink, to throw six months of sobriety away, to tear it all down, to tear away at himself until nothing was left but vaporous fumes. His hand of its own will found its way beneath the mattress where he’d hidden his silver flask while Remus had been staying, worried that its usual location under the pillow might raise a concern and a conversation he didn’t want to have, might raise worries that at the time had seem almost unfounded. Days ago, in the nervous excitement of the hours leading up to Remus’ arrival, he had held the flask for several long minutes, considering throwing it out altogether. Now he held it in his hands in much the same way, only barely hesitating before he flipped the lid and raised it to his lips.

He tipped his head back with the flask and it was like breath returning to his lungs, tears springing loose from his eyes at last. The taste was bitter but the sensation of the strong liquor running down his throat was so, so sweet. He downed the flask, small as it was, in a matter of seconds, and without further ceremony he unscrewed the cap of a small bottle of vodka. He didn’t like the taste as much, but he loved how vodka made him feel, so he drank it slower but more deliberately, wincing after each gulp. Then the scotch bottle, a larger one, not one he could finish in one go. Not usually.

Sirius drank and drank until his head was spinning and his feet felt heavy. His lips had disappeared and his cheeks were flush and fuzzy, but the light floating feeling, the release, never came. Instead, with each drop the tears fell faster and further, running deep tracks on his cheeks, down his neck, evaporating against his chest. A few tears caught in the lines of his face, funnelled by his nostrils to the corner of his lips, salty drops mixing with his heavy gulps, but he drank regardless. He drank until the room faded from his sight. He drank until he forgot what had driven him to drink. He drank until the smirking smile stopped dancing behind his lids each time he closed his eyes. He drank until he stopped hearing bright laughter and words so soft and cruel running lines through his ears and over his brain. He drank until he didn’t know what he was drinking anymore. All he knew was that he was Lord Black and this was what he did. This was who he was. He drank, he destroyed and he never, never loved.

At some point his vision turned black, and then he returned again, finding himself collapsed on his bedroom floor, liquid pooling around him from the empty bottle clasped at his side where he’d fallen. He shivered against the floorboards. Everything was sore, so he sat up enough to stretch his free hand up to his mattress, feeling around for another bottle. Sirius drank some more.

He fell into a dizzying stupor, no longer sure if he was still awake or if he had collapsed somewhere unconscious, if he was dreaming when he heard noises. They were maybe coming from elsewhere in the house, but it was dark outside now so no one would be visiting at this hour. His door burst open and a figure stood over him. He thought it might be Remus. Imagined that Remus was there. Dreamed that Remus had come back for him. But no, Sirius had to send him away. Go away, go away. Leave me alone. He heard shouting and it took him too long to realise it was his own voice cracking around his throat, far too dry again – he needed more. But before he could reach for another bottle everything went black again.

It was cold, so cold, and Sirius’ whole body shook with violent shivers. He was in the bathroom, body slumped against the tiled floor, head resting on the porcelain toilet frame. There was a whispered noise, a low, steady hum, and he must have imagined that comforting touch of a familiar hand stroking soft circles over his back. He tilted his head forward and was blinded by the pain of his stomach turning up on itself, liquid pouring back from his mouth into the toilet. He needed to sleep. He needed to be warm again. He needed to relieve himself. He needed another drink.

Sirius wasn’t sure which need won out in the end. He was alone, blinking his eyes into the dark-fuzzed room. Someone was breathing beside him. He must be dreaming. So he let his eyes fall shut again and hoped that maybe it had all been a dream. That he’d never stumbled his way into that too cosy atelier with the tailor whose eyes were deep and rich, the colour of mahogany, and shining with life. That the teasing smirks and gentle smiles had all been imagined, some apparition, or some wishful hallucination. That he had never been dressed in gorgeous silk and loving caresses of a man too good to be true, too good to love a man like him. That he had never heard those three words repeated over and over in whispers and desperate moans, that he had never felt the precious tugs in his own chest, pulling him ever so close to admitting the same words out loud. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Chapter Text

Sirius was mumbling aloud when he woke, fragments of the previous night caught on his tongue vanished into dreams as he slowly wound his way back to consciousness.

The silence in the room throbbed and his head pulsed underneath the glaring sun that pierced through the large open window in his room, assaulting his eyes, crawling beneath his skin, searing his brain. With a heavy groan, Sirius turned onto his side, the movement churning up his insides, as the bitter taste of bile rose up his throat. He tipped his head over the side, wretching heavily, but nothing came up. His stomach, though empty, swam with nausea and his throat still burned from the liquor fumes filling his lungs.

In the distance Sirius thought he heard a crash, like thunder but soft. But he paid it no mind, more concerned with battling the ache in his bones and the slow realisation as everything came back to him in dribbles of disappointment. With his hair sticking uncomfortably to his sweat-slicked brow, he forced himself to hold the tears that were pooling around his eyes and swallowed harshly against the walls of his throat sticking together.

Turning onto his back again, Sirius only then noticed that he was in his own bed, dressed in his expensive silk pyjamas, without remembering how he had ended up there. It had felt like a dream, but he thought he remembered someone beside him while he shouted slurred obscenities into the dark. He thought a shadow had knelt down to help him stagger to his feet. He was certain he had not made it to the bathroom of his own volition, much less dressed for bed and tucked himself between the sheets.

Now, as he blinked up at the empty ceiling, all he felt was the absence of warmth in his bed. He didn't need to look over to the pillow next to him to know that it was vacant. The bed felt like a cold stone slab and Sirius was sure it had never been this empty before. His sheets were still tangled up in the lingering smell of home, and he wondered how long that comforting scent would remain. He wondered if it would be long enough for him to forget who it belonged to, long enough to forget the weight of a body beside him at night and the steady rhythmic breaths lulling him to sleep. After only a few days of sharing his bed, the sensation of waking up alone already felt jarring and unnatural.

Sirius clenched his jaw against the memory of firm arms wrapped around him only the day before, and the side of his face twinged in pain. Wincing, he remembered the gash on his cheek, where his mother's cane had struck. It still felt raw, and even the hammering throbs of his hangover, aching muscles and stiff joints couldn't dull the sting.

Another distant shatter of noise resounded, seeming closer now. Then a single thought, feeling little more than that distant dream of the night before, floated into his mind.

Remus.

Ignoring the tumultuous pain firing through his body, Sirius bolted out of his bed and raced downstairs. Remus, it had to be.

Remus had come back for him.

His head was still spinning with the rush of his own jolting movements, as he came to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen. His stomach lurched in disappointment when he caught sight of a familiar nest of black hair. James had his back turned to him, his hair sticking up in more of a mess than usual – a tell-tale sign that he’d been running his fingers through it in frantic worry.

James didn’t stop what he was doing, didn’t look back, didn’t even acknowledge Sirius’ loud arrival. Then Sirius noticed the empty glass bottles being carelessly dropped into a crate beside him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sirius demanded.

“I’m getting rid of your alcohol.” Was all James said, back still turned, his voice low.

“Who said you could do that?”

“No one, Sirius.” Still calm, but something unfamiliar, something so unlike James sharpened the edge of his tone. “I don’t need permission to help my friend.”

Sirius, unable to help himself, lurched forward and attempted to wrestle the bottle James was currently tipping into the sink free from his grasp.

“Leave it, James.” He snarled, but teetered off-balance in his hungover state and James was stronger, yanking the bottle back with ease, sending Sirius toppling backwards into the kitchen counter. Sirius regained his balance, ready to launch into a furious tirade, but James beat him to it.

“You promised me you had help.”

“What?” Sirius spat.

“You promised me, Sirius. I spoke to Minerva, you know. She didn’t even know you were trying to stay sober.” Something like guilt began to rise up with the bile in Sirius’ throat, but he stubbornly shoved it down, allowing the familiar rage to push any blame beneath the surges of his fury. He had tried. He had tried so hard, and it had been for nothing. Every late night spent poring through dense tomes, every day deprived of Remus in the name of discretion, every minute hoping that they would be together soon. All of it, wasted. Sirius was powerless, pathetic, undeserving of love. And in the face of all of that, what could he be expected to do except drink himself to oblivion.

“Give those back.” Sirius grabbed again for the bottle in James’ hand, but James was too quick and swiped it out the way before Sirius could launch them into another tussle.

“No.”

“James.” Another warning, louder this time.

“No, Sirius. I’m not doing this. Not again. I am not sitting here and watching you do this to yourself. I am not putting myself through finding you unconscious time and time again wondering if this is the time you don’t wake up. I am not going to help you drink yourself to death.”

“Then don’t. Put the bloody bottles down, James, and get out of my house. No one asked you to be here and I could do without your bloody moralising for once.”

“Nice, Sirius. And actually, Remus did.”

Sirius’ heart clenched, staggering to a thudding halt for a split second as the room around him dropped away before re-emerging around him in a violent burst, knocking the force out of his anger.

“What?” It came out little more than a whisper.

“He asked Frank to drive him to mine after you sent him away. By the time we made it back, you were barely conscious.”

“He was here? Is he- where is he?” And Sirius looked around as if he’d simply somehow missed Remus in the corner of his eye.

“I told him to go home. When we found you, you were- He insisted on staying until we knew you’d be okay, but I thought you wouldn’t want him seeing you like that.”

Remus had been there. Remus had seen him in that state, slurring shouts of drunken rage. Remus, who had thought Sirius was brilliant and brave. Remus, who had loved all of him. Remus, who had now seen him at his absolute lowest. Remus, who had left. And Sirius couldn’t blame him, because there was no way that Remus would still want him, let alone love him, after seeing him like that.

James rested the bottle he’d been in the process of tipping out back in the sink with a resigned sigh, almost as if he’d heard Sirius’ thoughts. He stepped away from the remaining bottles, and Sirius resented the relief that flooded him knowing his supply was safe for the time being.

The silence drew long, but James still didn’t leave. “He called earlier, when you were still asleep. Are you going to call him back?”

“No.” His mouth had formed the word before he knew what he was saying, but once Sirius had admitted it, the last fracture splintered. If he was being honest with himself, he knew it was a good thing that James had sent Remus away. He should have never come back. As much as Sirius wanted to seek comfort in those familiar arms and deep searching eyes, Walburga’s threat still loomed large in his mind.

The risk to Remus was too great. And Sirius wasn’t worth the risk.

“Marlene and Lily are coming over soon. You said you’d go with Remus to the match, remember?” James started again, apparently attempting a different approach when Sirius refused to budge. “They were looking forward to seeing you again, seeing you both together.”

“We’re not together. Not anymore.”

“If that is the case, then I think Remus deserves to hear that from you. But I don’t think that’s really what you want, is it Sirius?”

“What I want doesn’t matter, James. I tried everything. I did everything I could think of, but she’s too powerful and I’m too- I’m too weak. So that’s that.”

“Sirius, you’re in pain.”

“So hand over the whiskey.”

“Twat.”

“Pillock.”

“Sirius, I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”

“S’fine James, I have a plan.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’ll get married to Lady Cecelia, my mother will finally be happy, and then I’ll drink my way through the rest of my life.”

“That has to be the worst plan you have ever had. And I’m including the time you thought it would be a good idea to get a cow into the headmaster’s office.”

“That was a great plan,” Sirius scowled, not allowing the absurd reminder of his past exploits to soften his defences as James had no doubt intended.

“His office on the fifth floor, that he never left.”

“Well yes, but-”

“There were no cows for twenty miles, Sirius.”

“Whatever. I’d have found a way.”

“I don’t want you to have to find your way through a loveless marriage and alcohol dependency, Sirius.”

“What other choice do I have? I’m- I can’t beat her. She’s too powerful, and she has half the country in her pocket. She owns everything. She owns me.”

“That’s just what she’s told you. She wants you to be afraid. She wants you to think she can’t be stopped, but that doesn’t make it true. It’s what she does, it’s how she manipulates everyone, but it’s not real. It’s a story she’s told you to keep you in line, nothing more.”

“Well it’s worked. I’ve spent hours James. I’ve looked up every possible precedent, caveat, loophole. There’s nothing I can do. I’m not clever enough, not strong enough.”

“Listen to me, Sirius. You are stronger than her, you are cleverer than her, and more than anything, you deserve to be happy, despite what she says. I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but please try, for your sake if not for mine or Remus’. We can find a way-”

“There is no way, James! I told you I’ve tried! How many times do I have to say it before you realise I’m not like you. What I want doesn’t matter. We can’t all just float around in a happy daydream stumbling through life and doing whatever the fuck we want.”

“I never-”

“Go live your fairytale fantasies James, just leave me and my bottles out of it.”

“Fine!” James finally raised his voice, stunning Sirius into silence. But whatever shock Sirius felt, he wouldn’t let it show, instead setting his jaw with a stubborn grind of his teeth. “Fine, Sirius, if that’s what you want, I’ll go.”

Sirius paused for a moment, feeling empty at having succeeded in getting everything and nothing that he’d wanted at the same time. James stood in the hollow echoes of his own voice, waiting for Sirius to back down, or change his mind. But then Sirius turned away, swiping a bottle as he left, and only barely caught James’ soft promise following him out the room.

“I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

~~~

The phone began to ring almost as soon as James had left and then it didn’t stop. It continued to ring, day after day, at all hours, until the incessant ringing became familiar background noise.

It wouldn’t be his mother, Sirius knew that. She would give him a few days to come to his senses, knowing that soon enough Sirius would give in, weak as he was. There was only one person it could be and Sirius wasn’t ready to face the shame that had begun to brew with the knowledge that Remus had returned to witness Sirius so drunk he could barely stand, crying and shouting and probably covered in his own vomit.

He didn’t want to hear what Remus had to say. Didn’t want to hear the pity, the fear in his voice. Didn’t want to hear the words that followed the last expression Sirius remembered seeing: Wide-eyed and frightened, looking at Sirius as though he barely recognised him. Didn’t want to hear the silence replacing three sweet words that had already begun to soak beneath Sirius’ skin, so close to embedding into the fibres of his body – so close to making Sirius believe that he could love and be loved.

And there was nothing Sirius could say that would make it better. There were no apologies to be made, no assurances. No hope for a future that might have been. She had known all along, simply biding her time for the right moment to strike and Sirius had been blissfully unaware, floating through the summer under the self-delusion that he could somehow win against her. But it was impossible. No one could win against Walburga Black. She owned everyone. She dictated every moment of Sirius’ life. He may be Lord Black, but he belonged to their Noble and Most Ancient House, to his mother. He was hers to do with as she wished, and any faint notion he had had of a different life, the life he saw when he glimpsed mischievous mahogany eyes in the mirror was nothing more than a dream.

So, no matter how long or how often the phone rang, Sirius refused to answer.

Instead, he fell into a swirling fog of endless days spent vacillating between drunk and hungover. He had stayed sober only long enough to call his mother and agree to her terms: He would attend Narcissa’s wedding, where he’d announce his engagement to Lady Cecelia. The day after the wedding he was to return to Grimmauld House for good. Narcissa and Lucius were getting married in mid-autumn, and Sirius intended to spend every minute as far from sobriety as possible until then.

Countless days passed in a nauseating blur, an endless cycle: Wake up, drink. Sign papers, drink. A few hours’ sleep, another drink. Sirius hardly left his room except to retrieve another bottle of whiskey. When his supply had run dry, he had Frank drive out and get more. When Frank and Minerva attempted to protest, he turned his frustration towards them, reminded them that he was their employer, and not the other way around, and then threatened to drive himself. Even the staff were afraid to go in his room, which suited Sirius just fine. He was content to wallow in the prison he’d built for himself, piling up dressing gowns and bottles around him to fill the empty space where another person might have been.

Days turned into weeks and eventually Sirius lost track of time altogether. He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but the phone had long since stopped ringing. Sirius continued to drink between bouts of fitful sleep, maintaining a steady fog, careful to drink just enough that he retained the slightest control, teetering on the edge of consciousness. It felt like a lifetime since he had seen anyone other than Minerva – though he made no effort to acknowledge or speak to even her. Her words passed through him like a ghost any time they happened to meet in those dark and dreary rooms.

Before long, summer came to a close, and with it the memories of his recent happiness had begun to fade into little more than a distant dream. Sirius still occasionally woke up in the middle of the night in a panicked sweat, clutching for a warm, reassuring hand beside him, before remembering where he was. Then he took a stiff drink to help him back to sleep. But eventually the heat resided and the ache dulled and Sirius became used to that consuming hollow feeling that had by now burrowed deep inside his chest.

Drop by drop, Sirius’ life returned almost to what it had been when his father had died, before he had ever set foot into that sheltered atelier in the picturesque village across the border. Only now the absence, the hollow crack in his chest, had grown vaster and more cavernous than ever.

~~~

With the beginning of autumn, came the looming threat of the rest of Sirius’ life. With each day it drew closer until it towered over him, a constant presence that only provoked his need to drink, even after he’d settled into a steady apathy. He was drunk often enough to numb himself to any fleeting reminders of the past year, and in between he wandered the rooms of Godric Hall, floating unpinned in search of something he thought he might have misplaced.

On a particular day with dense fog settling around and a steady gale swirling up the fallen red and brown leaves to tap against the windows, Sirius was making himself presentable to venture again beyond the cast iron gates of Godric Hall. He was to make a visit to Lady Cecelia’s house where they would formalise the final arrangements of their impending engagement and the rest of their lives.

For now, Sirius tried to push the thought from his mind, focusing on shaving his unkempt stubble for the first time in weeks. His hand slipped, shaking from his already tipsy state though he’d not even been awake a full hour. A small red bead swelled up on his jaw, and Sirius relished the light sting.

Once shaved he made the short trip down to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle – the contents of which mattered little. He had barely reached into the cupboard, when the front door slammed open. Sirius withdrew immediately, bracing himself for another torturous exchange with Walburga.

But when he entered into the hall, it wasn’t Walburga waiting for him.

“Hello, brother. Long time.”

“Reggie?” Sirius gaped at the slight, stubborn figure of his younger brother. “What are you- you can’t be here. If she knows you’ve been here-”

Regulus brushed him off with a shrug, “You know, James wouldn’t tell me for ages what had happened. Think he thought it might spook me or something. I’m not an idiot, though. I knew something was up when you wouldn’t return any of my calls and when Remus started showing up looking like a kicked puppy.”

“Is he-” Sirius began, momentarily distracted by the mention of Remus. Regulus seemed to know what he was going to ask though.

“Hasn’t been over in a while, actually, so I’m not sure how he’s doing now. But I’m quite certain he still loves you.”

“Regulus, what-”

“Look, you and I both know what mother is capable of, but she’s not all-powerful. It took me a long time to realise that, and only because of you. So now I’m going to tell you the same thing you told me. You deserve better. You deserve to be happy and you can’t let that miserable old hag stand in the way of that.”

“Regulus, I can’t. She’s too powerful, she-”

“Bollocks.” This caught Sirius mid-sentence. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Regulus swear, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised he’d still had Regulus frozen in the still image of the sweet, scared younger brother in need of his protection, in need of saving. But now it was Regulus who had come to save Sirius. “She’s human too, she’s not some evil witch with superpowers. And even if she were, at least then all we’d need to do is throw a bucket of water on her.” Seeing Sirius’ perplexed expression, Regulus explained, “The Potters made me watch the wizard of oz last week.”

“You need to go.” Sirius resolved, gritting his jaw, once he’d recovered from the initial confusion of Regulus showing up and spouting his soliloquy. “It’s not safe. If mother finds you here, she will drag you back home with her.”

“I’m not leaving until you agree to come with me.” Regulus answered, firmly rooted in his own brand of the Black family obstinacy.

“Well tough. Even if I wanted to, I have to go sign the prenuptial agreement with Cecelia. Mother will execute me herself if I miss that meeting.”

“Excuse me, I must have misheard. What is it that you’re doing?”

“I’m getting married!” Sirius all but shouted. It landed heavily between them, and Regulus stared at him through the stunned silence for several long moments. Then he scoffed.

“I knew you were a drunk, but I never thought you were stupid.”

“Oh, fuck off Regulus, what do you know? You’ve been on your own for what? A couple of months? and suddenly you’re the expert? You know fuck all about what I’ve been through! And since when did you give a damn anyway?”

“I’ve always given a damn, Sirius. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen!” Regulus insisted, “And now you’re going to lose Remus over it-”

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed, but Regulus ignored him.

“Do you know how miserable he’s been? He’s in pain, Sirius. He’s hurt and he doesn’t understand why you haven’t called.”

“I said stop it-”

“You’ve hurt him Sirius, you’re going to lose him. You’re going to end up miserable and it will be all your own fault.”

“Shut up!” Sirius roared, releasing the anger and frustration that had been building up for over a month. “Don’t you dare tell me- You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no right coming in here and-”

Sirius only then noticed that his anger had propelled him towards Regulus, seizing him by the scruff of his shirt. Once again, Sirius’ hand was raised, ready to strike. On realising this, his anger vanished instantly, replaced by the fear of what he’d been about to do, followed swiftly by the surge of guilt. But when he looked at Regulus – really looked – there was no trace of fear in the silver eyes staring back at him.

“It’s okay, Sirius, I know you’d never…” Regulus whispered.

“Right. I’m too weak.” Sirius mumbled, releasing Regulus and turning away.

“No. You’re too good.” Regulus corrected, and before Sirius could register what he was saying, he continued, “I wish… Sirius, I wish you would believe me when I say it doesn’t have to be like this. I’m only trying to do for you what you did for me. I know it isn’t easy, but it doesn’t have to be this difficult.”

“There’s no other way, Reggie…”

“There’s always another way. You taught me that.” Regulus paused to let his words sink in, to achieve whatever effect he’d hoped they might have, but Sirius turned a deaf ear.

“I’m going to be late. You need to leave.”

“Very well. I’ll go.” And Sirius sighed in relief, still strung on the tension that he almost struck out at his own brother. “I’ll go for now, but Sirius… I love you.”

The last words were so quietly whispered that they didn’t reach Sirius until the front door had already closed again, and Regulus was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. Still shaking from his sudden-extinguished rage, Sirius returned to his room and ignored the oppressing weight of Regulus’ words. Ignored the light spark of hope that they had reignited.

He prised open his wardrobe, near enough empty now since he had asked Minerva to dispose of the suits, too stark a reminder of the absence he’d done his best to forget. Where they had once hung, now all that remained were the few suits he had kept from an earlier time, seeming drab and threadbare – nothing next to the colourful array of Remus’ work. He was to attend Narcissa’s wedding wearing the same black tuxedo he had worn to his father’s funeral the year before, rather than the elaborate suit that he had commissioned for the wedding, that Remus had still been working on the last time they spoke.

Make it special, he had demanded, nearly a year ago now, the first time he had heard Remus’ soft tones over the phone, in the very same bed that was now flooded with bottles to replace the absent body next to his. And Remus had wanted to deliver on his promise. He had been giving Sirius regular updates – as vague as possible to avoid ruining the surprise. He had babbled in Sirius’ ear when a new idea had struck him that he wanted to incorporate into the design, complained to him when a stitch had gone out of place and a section needed to be redone. Sirius had no idea what the end result would be, but he knew that Remus had spent countless hours labouring over every detail, had poured vast quantities of love and skill into the very fabric. And now Sirius would never get to see it, never get to wear it. Never get to wear any of Remus’ suits again.

Reaching for a plain grey suit that he’d thrust to the back, Sirius fumbled and it dropped into the dark. Crouching down, he patted his hand around the base of the wardrobe, feeling blindly for the coarse fabric, when his hand was caught by a sharp sting. Retracting with a violent lurch, he saw the thin crease of red along his index finger. He reached back in and retrieved the small scrap of paper responsible, unfolding the crumpled extract to reveal the familiar handwriting. Sirius’ heart dropped.

Don't worry, no buttons.

There was no smile following these words this time. No ounce of relief, only the sting of yet another, deeper cut.

He discarded the paper over his shoulder in another erratic lurch, and returned to his search. After retrieving his plain grey suit, Sirius dressed himself in haste, hoping that if he moved fast enough from one task to the next he could outpace his thoughts that had been pulled back a month in the past to when Remus had laughed softly with crinkling smiles and affectionate lips that kissed over him in voiceless admiration, when Remus had watched with love in his eyes, and held Sirius in a comforting clasp that smelled of home.

Sirius did his best not to dwell on what had almost been, as he combed back his hair with a bottle of foul-smelling oil. Then he powdered his face without adding the usual coats of colourful blush, eyeshadow and lipstick, looking almost as gaunt as his father had, lying in his coffin with his arms by his side.

He resisted the urge to dress himself in silver and gold, instead slotting the simple signet ring over his little finger. He felt naked. He felt exposed and untethered, still spinning from the alcohol and Regulus’ sudden visit and that note, which stood out conspicuous on the floor where it had been roughly cast aside. Without pausing to think, Sirius bent down and slipped the note in his pocket, then he was out the door.

~~~

Sirius’ meeting with Lady Cecelia was every bit as gruelling and tiresome as he had been expecting and more besides. Cecelia had made some small grating comment about the cut on his cheek from shaving, about how Sirius would have to take better care of himself, for her sake. And Sirius’ insides had raged at the thought. But outwardly he gave nothing away, because Sirius had a plan. A plan to marry a woman he loathed. A plan to produce more children to be raised according to the rules and customs he himself despised. A plan to drink himself into an early grave and forget all about a beautiful man with mischief-twinkling eyes and a teasing smirk.

They had been chaperoned by her loathsome mother, and Sirius had done his best to ignore the unsubtle advances Cecelia made towards him beneath the coffee table. When her hand had found its way to rest on his thigh, Sirius’ stomach had churned so violently that he had struggled to swallow down the tea that had been served through the course of their discussion. But he had been unable to put up any form of resistance, not without drawing attention to the indiscrete contact. Besides which, resistance against such a small gesture when they were readying the contracts to spend the rest of their lives together seemed a wasted effort. So Sirius smiled and put up with the unwanted touches, made pleasant conversation with her boorish mother, and kissed both their cheeks when it was time to leave.

The drive back to Godric Hall was weighed down by mournful silence. The grey fog drifted pass, each stretch of tarmac bringing Sirius closer and closer to his inevitable future, the lump in his throat rising with every mile, even as he attempted to force it back down between swallows from his flask. There was only a month until Narcissa’s wedding to Lucius, after which Sirius would be expected to make his announcement. After which, marriage, then the rest of his life.

Returning his hand to his pocket to retrieve his flask, Sirius’ fingers once again brushed the small scrap of paper in his pocket. After a moment’s hesitation and a resolute dismissal of his better judgement, Sirius unwrapped the note. His eyes drifted over the scrawling lines of Remus’ hasty writing, bringing with it the image of Remus sitting at his workbench, smiling to himself with his bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth, as he wrote his secret message to a man he barely knew. A man, who had at that point done little more than return with increasingly excessive demands and lofty expectations, who had collided into that atelier with a haughty sneer and a demeaning tone, who had intruded on his life and sealed it all with an impromptu kiss before fleeing the scene of impropriety. All this, Sirius had done, and Remus had somehow seen beneath the chaos to a man and the hope of a smile that small message would bring.

Now as Sirius inspected the note anew, he could almost make out three forbidden words hidden between the lines, as if printed in ink clear for Sirius to see.

I love you.

And every bittersweet memory that Sirius had been keeping subdued, every forbidden image of teasing laughter, soft golden-brown hair, and warm mahogany eyes came flooding back without warning. It was too much. It was all too much and never enough, because how could he sign the rest of his life over to his mother and Lady Cecelia? How could he accept anyone in place of the man who had, even before knowing it, loved Sirius so perfectly? How could he return to Grimmauld House having felt the warmth of that maroon-painted atelier? How could he even think of erasing from his life the one person who had shown him what it meant to have a home, to have a family, to have love.

“Lord Black, are you alright, sir? Would you like me to stop the car?” And Sirius emerged from his memories to find Frank’s concern glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. Without realising, a line of tears had begun to spill over onto his cheeks. He clutched at the car interior for something to hold onto, finding nothing but the smooth leather that slipped clean beneath his grasp.

“No.” Sirius grinded out, though he hardly knew what he was saying. “Actually, change of plan, we’re not going home.”

“Of course, Lord Black. Where to, sir?”

~~~

“Oh, Sirius…” The door opened to reveal Dorcas dressed in her white silk nightgown. It was a little sheer in the broad daylight, and the fabric hardly covered much to begin with. But Dorcas was completely at ease answering the door, and they had seen each other naked often enough that Sirius wasn’t fazed by her current state of undress. He also knew it was the gown she saved for certain, special occasions.

“Ah.” Of course, it had been selfish of Sirius to turn up without notice, expecting Dorcas to be readily available at his whim, to drop everything for his benefit. “You’ve got company. I’ll go.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re an absolute mess.” She remarked over the state of his puffy, tear-strewn face and frazzled hair which was now severely tangled where he’d been running his fingers through it. “There’s no way I’m letting you go in this state. Besides, no one’s heard from you in over a month. I think James would actually skin me alive if he found out you’d shown up and I turned you away.”

“So don’t tell James.”

“As if either of us can lie to him. He gets that sad, disappointed look. You know, the one he had when he tried to shoot that deer.” Sirius did know the one. It was one of Sirius’ least favourite, because it felt exactly like wounding a baby deer, and the guilt that accompanied it was tenfold. “Look, you’re here now, come on in. I’ll get you a drink.”

“I-” Sirius began to interrupt, but Dorcas simply tutted and began to scoop Sirius inside from the doorway.

“I meant tea or coffee, Sirius. I’m not an idiot.”

“Right.”

Sirius followed Dorcas sheepishly into her townhouse, her preferred residence for the most part, but especially when she had company. She often spent her free time here, so Sirius had turned up with only hope and Frank to drive him.

“So, what’s been happening with you?” He asked, as casually as he could manage, once they were settled into Dorcas’ extravagant sitting room. A vinyl of some romantic sounding jazz whirred on in the background, and Sirius sprawled in the armchair, while Dorcas regarded him with a thoughtful expression from her reclined position, leaning upright against the arm of the chaise longue, her arms folded and that unreadable expression on her face that always gave the impression that she knew something Sirius didn’t.

“‘What’s happening with me?’, he asks. I ought to have you strung up, Black.” Sirius winced at the reprimand and resolved to keep his mouth shut.

After a drawn-out silence, Dorcas sighed.

“How much have you had?”

“Today? Lost track. Too much probably.”

“So what’s the plan then? Do you want to stop? Because if you’ve come here expecting me to tell you that it’s all fine-”

“No. No, that’s not it. I want to stop drinking. I want-” Even as he began to admit it, though, the very thought seemed little more than a fantasy.  “But Dorcas, as long as my mother… I don’t know what to do, I’ve tried everything.”

“Not everything.”

“I’ve spent hours, Dorcas, I’ve looked up every possible-”

“At any point, Sirius, did you ever ask for anyone else’s help?” And Sirius fell silent. No, he hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. There was no way that he could ever think of asking for help when the possibility of failure had haunted every thought, every small idea, every slight crumb of hope. “Then you haven’t tried everything, not nearly.”

At that moment, there was a soft clatter from the top of the stairs, the tumbling sound of footsteps and a half-naked blonde women came bursting into the lounge.

“There you are, baby. I was wondering where you’d got to.” Came the flirtatious voice of the woman who had come flying into the sitting room in nothing but a purple negligee, pouncing onto Dorcas’ reclined figure before she’d had a chance to take in Sirius’ presence.

“Mmh, I’m so sorry for leaving you waiting.” Dorcas purred back, and the fondness in her voice took Sirius by surprise. Dorcas was a charming and considerate lover – so he’d heard – but he had rarely witnessed her charm extend so far into affection. From their tangled position, their touches began to grow more intimate, until Sirius cleared his throat softly and the woman he now recognised as Marlene jumped up in surprise. Dorcas too, seemed a little startled at Sirius’ presence.

“Oh my god, I didn’t- Oh.” Marlene’s shock fell swiftly into what Sirius could only describe as the most contemptuous expression he had received from a woman who wasn’t related to him. “It’s you.”

“Marlene, nice to-”

“Oh don’t you dare give me that bollocks, Sirius Black. Do you have any idea what kind of hell you put my friend through!”

“You’ve spoken to Remus?” Sirius asked urgently, his eyes darting between Dorcas, who sat now with a concerned eyebrow raised watching the exchange, and Marlene, the fierceness of her anger-ruddied cheeks off-set only by the way her mussed-up golden curls stood out from her head.

“Oh, now he cares.”

Sirius flinched.

“Marlene, honey, could you give us a moment. Please?” Dorcas interrupted before more sharp words could be exchanged. Scowling, Marlene rolled her eyes and with a deep huff, leaned down to deposit a peck on Dorcas’ cheek, before storming out and slamming the door shut behind her.

“Have you seen Remus?” Sirius asked again, after Marlene had left.

“I have.”

“Is he- Has he- How is he?”

“Not great, Sirius. He hasn’t heard from you. None of us have.”

“Right.” Sirius nodded, his frown deepening.

“If it helps at all, I don’t think he’s as angry as Marlene. More… hurt.” Dorcas continued kindly, in what Sirius suspected was an attempt to soften the blow, but it only made the sting sharper.

“I never meant to hurt him.”

“I know, Sirius. I think he knows that too, deep down.”

“I want to get better. I want to stop drinking. I don’t want to marry Lady Cecelia and live with my mother. I want… I want-” Remus. He wanted Remus. He wanted to believe that he was allowed to want. Instead, all that came out were the sound of half-broken sobs and then Sirius broke completely, his head collapsing into his hands. Sirius leant into Dorcas’ arms when she came to wrap around him.

“Ssh, ssh, Sirius. It’s okay. I know, I know, it’s okay.” She murmured softly into his ear and it only made him cry harder at the undeserved sympathy, his half-gasped sobs breaking into undisrupted tears. “C’mon, let’s get you into the bath. Get you sobered up, and then we can talk about all this properly. We’ll figure this out Sirius.”

Little by little, Sirius was coaxed upstairs, letting Dorcas help him out of his clothes while the tumbling water bubbled up in a noisy background burble. They stood together in silence, watching the water’s meniscus rise up the porcelain walls of the bathtub. Steam rose up in the air around him, dizzying smog suffocating his thoughts as they churned again and again over thoughts of brown eyes and a mischievous smirk.

Once it was full, Dorcas helped him into the bath and then perched on a stool next to him, helping him rinse the oil from his hair, the liquor from his pores. She stayed with him a while longer, and Sirius was grateful for the silent company as the alcohol left his system and he sunk into the water’s warm embrace until he’d almost managed to cleanse the last month and a half from his skin.

“I’m going to get you some clean clothes.” She said, at last disrupting the stillness and getting to her feet, “I’ll leave them in the guest bedroom for you. Come down whenever you’re ready.”

Dorcas left, shutting the door behind her.

Drawing his knees up to his chin, Sirius tried to chase away his mind, to forget anything outside the safety of the bathroom walls. He sunk low into the water, his head barely breaking the surface where he was folded in on himself under the soapy water, growing colder by the minute. It was white all around, empty marble walls and porcelain furniture. White wooden cabinets, the white stone sink. Even the cold white sound of the bathroom vent and the occasional slosh of the rippling water.

Worthless, selfish, weak. Incapable of love. Incapable of being loved. A pathetic failure incapable of standing up to his own mother.

The words oozed from his pores with the rotten stench of alcohol.

Then Sirius closed his eyes and, holding his breath, tipped his body beneath the surface, letting the water surge up around him and cover him completely. As he sank beneath the water, it spouted up his nostrils intruding with an uncomfortable sting. It pulsed inside his ears, blocking out the sharp-edged words. When he breached the surface again, the bathwater dancing dizzily in front of him, his head fell silent at last.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the water began to chill and the skin around his fingers had started to knot in on itself. He was also aching for another drink. So, sighing, he wrapped himself in the bathrobe Dorcas had left for him and found his way to the guest suite. She had laid out a large t-shirt and some joggers that Sirius thought she might have stolen from James at some point. When Sirius finally re-emerged he found the two women tangled together in the kitchen beside a brewing kettle. Sirius’ heart twinged a little at the faint resurfacing of a distant memory, which he quickly thrust aside.

“So… when did this happen?” Sirius asked, nodding between the two women who seemed to have not noticed Sirius entering, and were still engaged in an endearing display of affection.

“After my game. The one that you were supposed to take Remus to.” Marlene answered, her casual tone carrying only a slight bite. Dorcas’ faint blush didn’t escape Sirius’ notice. The game had been weeks ago, if he remembered correctly. Dorcas had never been known to keep seeing the same woman for more than a day. She might return to previous liaisons every now and then, but it certainly seemed like Marlene was comfortable enough finding her way around the kitchen as she fixed them all another cup of coffee. Sirius didn’t comment on that though, instead he broached an apology, likely the first of many.

“I’m… sorry I missed your game.”

Marlene huffed, but then she and Dorcas seemed to exchange some silent conversation in several pointed looks that Sirius couldn’t begin to read. Then, sighing heavily, Marlene turned back to Sirius.

“I am obligated, as Remus’ friend, to be mad at you, but I realise you weren’t intentionally being a royal prick.” She spoke tightly and then hesitated for a moment, directing another quick glance towards Dorcas for confirmation. “He and James mentioned… well, we heard about your mother.”

Sirius grunted, suddenly finding the coffee grinder endlessly fascinating, as he began playing with the handle, spinning it around and around, until Dorcas plucked it from his hand with a small glare before he could break the handle clean off.

“Are you okay?” Marlene asked then, a little kinder.

“Why not.” He shrugged, still averting his gaze, searching for something else to keep his hands distracted, to keep them from reaching for something to pour into his mouth.

“He was really worried about you after… after what happened. He tried to call.”

“I know.”

“Why couldn’t you just call him back?” And Sirius could hear the frustration creeping back into her question, could hear in her voice the weeks his friends spent agonising over his absence, not knowing when or if they were going to hear from him again. He could hear Remus, confused and distraught, not understanding why Sirius had never called him back, even if only to let him know he was okay. Because after all, none of them had been there. None of them knew what his mother had done, what she had threatened to do.

“I’m supposed to propose to some woman that my mother picked out for me. Next month, at my cousin’s wedding.” He began, “I’m supposed to marry her by Christmas and move back to Grimmauld House. It’s the only way I can protect Remus.”

“Remus? What does-”

“She knew. My mother knew about us the whole time. She said that if I didn’t end things with Remus and live up to my familial obligations, she’d ruin him, take his livelihood, make it- make it so he couldn’t afford to look after his father.”

“Oh, Sirius…” and all Marlene’s previous hostility vanished in an instant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“There’s no way you could have. I didn’t tell anyone.” Then after a brief pause, he finally met Marlene’s line of sight. “Please don’t tell Remus. Not until it’s safe.”

“Sirius, he deserves to know…”

“I know. He deserves a lot more than what I’ve done. He deserves a hell of a lot better than me. But I can’t risk her finding out. If she thinks I’ve been in contact with Remus, if she thinks I’m doing anything other than exactly what she wants me to, she’ll ruin him. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay, Sirius, I won’t say anything to Remus until you’re ready.” Marlene promised, and held Sirius’ gaze, pure strength emanating from her assurance. For the first time in two months, he wasn’t alone. “But that means we’re all going to have to put our heads together and figure a way out of this.”

Sirius glanced over at Dorcas, who appeared equally determined and welling with pride at the woman on her arm. He looked between the both of them for a moment longer. Sirius nodded and they got to work.

~~~

Putting their heads together, as it turned out, began with Sirius trying to get sober again. He attempted to wrestle Dorcas into letting him wait out the withdrawal like he had the last time. It didn’t take much for Dorcas to knock the sense back into him, reminding him how dangerous it was to go through withdrawal without medical supervision.

“You could die, Sirius. Then what good would you be?” Dorcas had scolded him, and after that it had been merely a matter of finding a small, discrete clinic in the Cotswolds and paying them enough not to ask any questions or spread any rumours.

The clinic was… sterile. At least it was clean, and it was small. Aside from Sirius there were only a handful of other in-patients who mostly kept to themselves, all of them obscenely wealthy – though likely none so much as Sirius – and attempting to discretely kick their expensive habits. Sirius’ neighbour, Stubby, was a washed-up singer who had finally been pushed to clean up his act after his band had broken up over his erratic behaviour. He was a long-term in-patient, happy to pay the exorbitant monthly fees for the daily supervision, but that meant he’d gotten to know a number of the shorter-term patients, like Sirius who had been in and out (some of them several times) during his stay.

“There was a lass in here last month who had the most terrifying fits. Shrieked like a ghoul, that one.” Stubby noted, almost to himself, while he watched Sirius writhe and bite his pillow to try and dispel the fits of nausea and shakes that had taken hold of him. Stubby had taken up the habit of turning up in Sirius’ room in the evenings and watching him through his withdrawal, like some observational scientist fascinated with the process. Sirius didn’t particularly mind; having someone chatting to him as if nothing was happening helped to distract him from the intense pain he was experiencing. “You’ll do better than her, I reckon. She took herself out the program in less than a week, and last I heard she was drinking her dinner and breakfast.”

Besides the nightly visits from Stubby, and the regular morning, afternoon, and evening check-ins with doctors, therapists, nurses and whoever else was involved in the elaborate procedure of weaning Sirius off his bottles, Marlene and Dorcas also made sure to visit daily. Sirius looked forward to these times most of all. It was the one time in his stay where he felt normal, rather than some criminal in lock-up. During these hour-long visits, the three of them would put their heads together and attempt to work on a solution for Sirius’ Noble and Most Ancient problem. Between the shakes and pangs of withdrawal, Sirius did his best to explain the details of his research, every possible avenue he’d found, every dead end that had cut him off before he’d even managed to get started, while Dorcas and Marlene listened patiently.

“Hang on, I don’t get it.” Marlene frowned in confusion over the visitor’s table on the fourth day of Sirius’ internment – or rather, voluntary commitment, as Dorcas kept reminding him. “If you’re the head of the family, can’t you do whatever you want?”

“It’s not that simple.” Dorcas put in on Sirius’ behalf, which Sirius was endlessly thankful for, the question alone was enough to punch the air from his lungs. “Anything Sirius does with his assets has to have board approval, and everything the board approves goes through his mother. She’s got… influence.”

“Not to mention my uncle.” Sirius added.

“So… we need to find something more important to them than anything your mother can offer, right?” Marlene hummed, deep in thought.

“Or take away.” Sirius put in, unable to hold back his scowl of disgust thinking of Walburga’s underhanded methods.

“Right. Or take away.” Marlene glanced between them, looking as though she’d hoped her epiphany might have sparked something in one of the other two, but when two blank faces stared back at her, Marlene grimaced and hopped to her feet. “I’ll get us some more coffee.”

Sirius sighed heavily.

Empty rooms. The thought had been running through his mind a lot recently, especially now that he found himself sharing his living space with a number of other people for the first time since boarding school. What was it that Dorcas had said to him at Christmas? About making a home? He certainly didn’t feel more at home here, despite being surrounded by people. Nevertheless, Sirius chased the thought round in his mind, feeling he was on the edge of something.

“What did James say about all this?” Dorcas asked, interrupting him as he attempted to catch his own fleeting trail of thought.

“I haven’t told him.”

“I swear to god, Sirius, you are infuriating. You know that man is as brilliant as any of us when he puts his mind to it.”

“I know, I know… I was just-” Sirius cut himself off.

“You were just what?” Dorcas nudged, a softness dislodging the previous exasperation in her voice.

“Scared to disappoint him.”

“I thought the two of you were practically blood brothers. It’s like you’ve never even met the man.” Dorcas sighed. “Please can we call him now?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Then when Sirius?”

“When I’ve proven I can stay sober.”

“Oh for- Sirius, that’s not something you’re ever going to be able to prove.” Sirius must have looked absolutely devastated at this comment, because Dorcas backtracked. “What I mean to say is that everyone has setbacks. And that’s okay. You might be sober for twenty years and then slip on a random evening for no reason. It’s never going to get magically easy; it’s never going to be a sure thing. It’s something you’re going to have to work at every day, and the only way you’ll be able to is if you learn to accept help from the people who care about you. And that means James too.”

“Well that’s just- that-” And Sirius gave a pained groan. “That… makes a lot of sense, actually. I just need more time, Dorcas. Let me at least have something to show for myself before I have to face up to James.”

“Fine. It’s your call, Sirius.” Dorcas huffed, “But don’t you dare tell him I called him brilliant. He won’t be able to fit his head through normal doors anymore.”

“I promise, I promise,” Sirius said with the lightest hint of a chuckle, before adding in a darkened afterthought, “If he ever forgives me, that is. I think I might have really done it this time.”

“Of course he’s going to forgive you, Sirius. But for him to do that, you need to speak to him.”

Dorcas was right, as was usually the case. After a little over a week at the clinic, Sirius’ symptoms of withdrawal had subsided and he was returning home to continue the rest of his treatment as an outpatient.

James was waiting for him when he came out.

“Now before you have a go at me-” Dorcas was beginning to say as she accompanied him outside to where James was stood, but Sirius didn’t wait to hear the rest. He bounded forwards, almost breaking into a run, before practically bowling James to the ground with a full-body embrace. Luckily for both of them, James was sturdy enough to support Sirius’ weight, even when flung at him from a foot away.

“I’m so sorry, James.” Sirius mumbled through James’ scarf.

“I know, Sirius. It’s okay.” Was all James said. When they parted again, Sirius found he could hardly look James in the eye.

“Listen, James, I know-”

“No explanations necessary. I’m just glad you’re doing better.”

“Thanks, Prongs.”

“Hey, I love you. You know that?”

“I know.” Sirius nodded, and forcing himself to meet James’ gaze, he answered, “You know I- me too. I love you too, James.”

“Always knew it, Padfoot.” James grinned, throwing an arm over Sirius’ shoulder and pulling them both towards the waiting car, while Dorcas followed behind. “Now, Dorcas tells me you’re in need of my incredible expertise.”

“She’s right about your head being too big.”

James threw his head back with laughter, loud and infectious until Sirius was chuckling too, but it swiftly vanished after James’ next question. “So, what’s this problem of yours?”

“It’s my mother… she threatened to ruin Remus if I didn’t marry Lady Cecelia. James, she knew. She knew about us all along.”

“No she didn’t.” James frowned in confusion, stopping them short, only a few steps further on from the clinic’s entrance.

“What do you mean? Of course she did, she told me-”

“Well then she lied.” James interrupted with insistence, “She found out less than three months ago from a reporter she hired.”

“What? How do you-”

“Remus came to see me a couple of weeks after… Well, anyway, he said a reporter had been sniffing around for information about the pair of you. He didn’t tell him anything of course, but…” James seemed to hesitate for a moment, before continuing, “Apparently the reporter was offering a fair amount of money in exchange for information. It wasn’t the first time he’d been snooping around either, and one of Remus’ former friends apparently took the offer and blabbed. I looked into it and it seems like the reporter was working for your mother.”

“That’s how she knew about us.” The realisation dawned on him and then more followed as his mind spun with questions, “When did this happen?”

“A few months ago, I think? Right before Regulus showed up. I wasn’t sure if the two things were connected, but the timing was suspicious, so I spoke to Regulus about it and he explained- well, he should tell you that part.”

“James, that means… She didn’t know the whole time, she only found out because she hired a reporter. That’s how she knew to threaten his dad. I’ll bet the reporter dug up information on Remus’ debts and everything.”

“Oh Sirius… I’m sorry. I should’ve worked out sooner that she’d have made some sort of threat towards Remus. I wish you had told me, we could’ve-”  and James gave a weighted sigh, “Anyway, what’s done is done. You’re here now and that’s what matters.”

But Sirius was barely paying attention to anything James was saying now. “I’ve got to talk to him…”

“I’ve taken care of that by the way. That reporter won’t be bothering Remus, or any of us, again.” Sirius broke through his thoughts to shoot James a grateful smile. He might well have kissed James if his mind wasn’t already running a hundred miles a minute in a different direction.

“Dorcas, can I borrow your car for a bit?” He turned back to Dorcas, already holding out his hand. “Please.”

“Sure, love, whatever you need.” Dorcas rolled her eyes with a smile, then rummaged through her bag for a few seconds before tossing Sirius the keys to her jeep.

“Sirius, you’re still in recovery.” James attempted to reason with him, but then Sirius rarely listened to reason. “You shouldn’t be going off alone. Come back to mine, we’ll figure this out together.”

“I will, I promise. I just- There’s something I need to do first.”

“Don’t get it totalled!” Dorcas shouted after him as he sprinted off towards the carpark.

~~~

Early afternoon found Sirius pacing outside the empty shopfront of Remus’ atelier. In spite of everything, he had kept the key on him, and was now debating whether or not to barge straight up to Remus’ flat, when he spotted the distant figures approaching from the bottom of his street. Happy laughter floated up from the pair growing nearer, and Sirius could now easily make out the shapes of Remus and Mary walking towards him arm-in-arm. Mary tapped fondly at Remus’ arm, facing him as she spoke, and Remus’ head was thrown back in laughter. As he returned to face where he was walking, Remus stopped in his tracks, and Mary followed his gaze. They were close enough now that Sirius could make out Remus’ stony expression and the sympathetic look from Mary as she pecked a goodbye kiss onto Remus’ cheek before turning back the way they’d come. Remus continued to stare at Sirius from several paces away, and Sirius could just about make out the muscle in his jaw twitching. Remus pointedly avoided eye contact as he approached the shop, ignoring Sirius as he fumbled with the keys. He ended up dropping them, cursing as he bent down to pick them up.

“Here, let me.” Sirius offered, finally producing his own key and unlocking the door as Remus righted himself, seeming to glare at the lock that came undone so easily under Sirius’ hand.

Remus pushed through the door, the bell bursting out in frenetic rings above them. He didn’t spare a glance back towards Sirius, but left the door open, which Sirius took as his permission to enter. The familiar smell and the comfortable warmth of the cosy atelier hit Sirius in a wave of reminiscence and it almost broke him before they’d even had a chance to speak. The feeling of being back between maroon-painted walls and the trailing debris of Remus’ usual mess wrapped around him like a welcoming embrace, seeping beneath his skin, winding its way through his nerves and veins warming him to his very core. Remus had already begun to busy himself, sweeping around the shop in distracted movements, leaving Sirius by the door, uncertain.

He had been going over everything he wanted to say on the drive over. He thought of how he would apologise, how he would beg for Remus’ forgiveness, how he would explain everything that had happened, and even after all that, he knew it was a slim hope that anything he could say would be enough to mend the two months of silence between them. But now, with Remus stone-faced and unable to meet his gaze, even speaking seemed impossible. Sirius lost track of every explanation, every promise he'd planned to make, and so he stood for several long minutes in numbing silence.

He watched as Remus lifted a piece of fabric, deliberate for a few seconds, before putting it back down and moving swiftly to the opposite corner of the workbench to tidy some paper templates. Despite everything they had been through together, ‘sorry’ still didn’t come naturally, especially now when it felt so weak and meaningless. So Sirius started with something easier.

“I’m getting help. I’ve been in a facility for the last few days. Ten days sober as of today.”

“I’m happy for you.” Remus replied tersely, sounding sincere but he didn’t glance up from where he was mindlessly thumbing through a pad of fabric swatches.

“Dorcas and Marlene have been helping me. Those two are good together,” Sirius continued, hating the almost conversational tone of his own voice, but he couldn’t stop himself it seemed. Now that he had started speaking, everything was ready to come out at once. Everything except what he really needed to say. “I’m glad they found one another.”

“Yes, we’re all thrilled for them.” Remus answered through gritted teeth this time, and Sirius knew he was pushing his limit. He forgot when he’d gotten so good at testing boundaries, but it seemed he hadn’t lost the habit.

“Regulus came to see me the other week-”

“Look,” Remus interrupted, “I’m glad you’re getting help, and I’m glad Dorcas and Marlene have been there for you, but if you came here to catch up on our acquaintances, I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

“No, that’s not…” Sirius tried, but he lost his thought again with Remus’ jolting movement over to the front desk, where he drew out his accounts book. Remus winced when it slammed down onto the desk with a loud thud, but still made no acknowledgement of Sirius, instead continuing to open his book as though nothing had happened. His head was bowed lower than necessary over the pages.

“Is there something else I can do for you, Lord Black?” Remus asked the shadow that had approached to obscure his view. Over the desk between them, Sirius could almost feel Remus’ body heat, could smell that sweet scent of honey-nectar and forest trees that accompanied Remus everywhere, that had long since evaporated from Sirius’ own bed. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand being so close to Remus and yet not being able to hold him.

“Remus…” Remus set his jaw and turned the page, as though he could still read perfectly fine despite Sirius blocking his light. “Remus, please… Moony-”

The book slammed shut.

“Don’t. You don’t get to call me that.” And Remus finally met Sirius’ eye, but instead of soft, melting chocolate, he was met with a burning fury. “Two months. I haven’t seen or heard from you in two months.”

“Remus, I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have called? Sent a postcard? A fucking carrier pigeon, or something. At least to let me know you were okay, that you were even alive. And now you’re sorry? So I guess that makes everything okay then.”

“No- no, of course not. Please just let me explain.”

“Go on, then. Explain.” Sirius attempted to locate one of the speeches he’d reeled off to himself in the car, but in the face of Remus’ blinding glare he could barely stammer out the words.

Shutting his eyes, Remus exhaled a heavy breath. He squeezed his eyes tight, as though he were waiting to wake up from a dream – or a nightmare.

“Sirius…” His voice was far softer now, and Sirius hadn’t realised how much he had needed to hear his name on Remus’ tongue. It took everything he had not to reach out and touch him. Opening his eyes again, Remus asked, “What are you doing here?”

“My mother… she threatened you. She told me she’d known about us from the start, and I believed her, until today when James… But now we’re coming up with a plan. I think… I think I might actually be able to stop her this time.” As Sirius burst through his clumsy explanation, something in Remus’ eyes softened, but his expression remained firmly set. “Remus, she said that if I ever saw you again, if I didn’t- I was trying to protect you.”

“I didn’t need you to protect me, Sirius. I needed you.”

“Please Remus, I just… I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Sirius could see the lines tightening around Remus’ face where he was straining to stop the tears threatening to spill, and it took everything Sirius had to hold back his own. 

 “What happened to communicating? What happened to us being in this together? I told you I would deal with whatever they threw at us. I told you I was in this- in whatever this was, with you. I told you- I- I- told you I…”

“You’re right. I- You’re right, Remus… I was scared of you getting hurt, but I was also protecting myself.” Sirius hadn’t realised until he said it, but now it fell between his teeth, laying the truth bare between them. “I didn’t think… I didn’t believe you would still love me, that you’d think I was worth the risk. And it was easier to drink. It was easier- I thought it was easier to push everyone away and give in to her demands.”

He took an unconscious step towards Remus as he spoke. Remus, still several feet away, nevertheless tensed at the movement. But Sirius needed to be near Remus again, to see his face up close. He continued to move forward into the shadows where Remus had half-concealed himself behind the desk, a step at a time until he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Remus’ body, until his breath tickled the small hairs at the base of Remus’ neck.

“Don’t…” came his gentle plea.

“I was wrong. I was too lost in my head, in the alcohol, in my own fears, to realise. I thought it was easier, but Remus, nothing is harder than being away from you.”

“Sirius, please…” It came out in barely a husk of his usual sweet, gentle voice.

“I missed you so much, Remus.” Sirius whispered, his heart caught in his throat, tightening the strings of his voice as he took another step closer towards Remus, raising a hand to his cheek. Remus flinched and Sirius pulled away. They stood together in silence, inches apart, though to Sirius it felt like miles. Remus let out a sigh, rippling the still air between them with his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?” And this time it was Remus who reached out, tracing his calloused fingers over the knotted scar left by Walburga’s cane. Sirius leaned into the touch. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not so much now,” he said.

They were close enough that he could feel Remus’ breath against his lips. With an expression of torment, Remus closed the gap and brushed the lightest of kisses against Sirius’ mouth before pulling away as if he’d been burned. Remus’ hand fell back by his side leaving behind the temporary outline of warmth.

“I missed you too.” Remus gave his hushed confession. “But that doesn’t change the past two months. It doesn’t change how long I spent waiting for you. How much it hurt when you shut me out.”

“I know, and I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me-”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I love you, Sirius. All of you. I still… I thought- Sirius, I was so worried… I thought you were-”

The rest of Remus’ words became lost and he clamped his hand over his mouth, holding back the sobs and shutting his eyes against the tears that had begun to fall. And Sirius knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around Remus, pulling his head down onto his shoulder. And Remus let him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Remus.” Sirius murmured again and again into soft golden-brown locks, as hot tears began to soak into the thin grey shirt he was wearing. And then, “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t stay too long.” Sirius mumbled into Remus’ ear, “I told James I’d go to his after…”

He didn’t know how long they’d been there, but Remus had gone quiet and they had simply stood, holding each other in the empty space. With reluctance, Sirius loosened his hold, but Remus’ arms tightened around his waist, and he nudged his head further into the crease of Sirius’ neck. He mumbled something into his shoulder that Sirius couldn’t make out.

“What was that?” he prompted gently.

Remus turned to the side to be heard, his lips brushing skin as he spoke. “Stay a bit longer. Please.”

“Okay.” After several more minutes passed, Remus released Sirius and, with a sharp sniff, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He turned away from Sirius for a moment, tidying up some materials on the desk beside them, before turning back to Sirius with clear, expectant eyes.

“Tea?” He offered.

“Tea would be lovely.”

Wordlessly, Remus led Sirius up to his flat, and it was somewhat relieving to see the crowded room unchanged, though perhaps a little messier than before. He motioned for Sirius to take a seat at the table and then stood with his back to him, watching the kettle boil.

“How’s your dad?”

“Same as ever. A little worse.” Sirius didn’t have a response, once again finding himself in a position where nothing he could say would make it better.

“Dr Pomfrey, Mary?” He asked, instead.

“Good, thank you. Mary was thrilled she managed to finally drag me out for lunch today.”

“And… how’s Peter?”

 “James told you then?”

“He didn’t say who, but…”

“It was Peter. You don’t have to worry, he’s not… erm, I don’t spend a lot of time with him these days.”

“Remus, I…”

“It’s okay, Sirius.” Remus took a seat opposite, placing two steaming cups of tea between them, and then with a regretful sigh he added, “He brought it on himself.”

“But you didn’t.” Sirius said, taking hold of Remus’ hand across the table before he could think better of it. “None of this was your fault, Remus, and you didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t deserve to spend all that time worrying, you didn’t deserve to lose your friend, you didn’t deserve to have your livelihood and your loved ones threatened. And none of that would have happened if it weren’t for me.”

Remus’ gaze fell to their joined hands, and Sirius made to pull away, realising he’d once again overstepped, but Remus caught hold of his hand before he could, running reassuring circles with his thumb.

“I don’t know how many times I thought about going back for you,” Remus directed his words to Sirius’ open palm. “James said it wouldn’t be safe. I drove most of the way there a few times. One time I even got as far as the gate, but when I got there… I knew you didn’t want to see me. I should have pushed harder, I shouldn’t have let you shut me out when you needed me…”

“You couldn’t have done anything, Remus.” He insisted, fixing Remus with his resolute glare. If nothing else came of this, Remus had to know he’d done nothing wrong. That was all Sirius. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themself.”

“That’s what James said.”

“He’s worth listening to, sometimes.” Sirius huffed a mirthless laugh. “Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me like that.”

“He also said that. Told me to give you time.”

“Thank you, for giving me time.”

“For the record, though, even at your worst, Sirius, I would have wanted to be there with you. When we found you… after your mother- It terrified me to think how much pain you had to be in to drink that much. But leaving you on your own, not knowing if you were hurt, or worse, that was…”

Remus’ voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and he cleared his throat again, taking a deep sip of tea that was undoubtedly still scalding.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius returned Remus’ consoling touches, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “It’s all my fault, Remus. It was my job to protect you from all of this in the first place. If I’d have done more, if I’d been better, worked harder, made connections with important people like I was supposed to… If I’d have just done as my family wanted-”

“Then you wouldn’t be you. And I would never have fallen in love with someone who wasn’t you.” And Remus was so insistent that Sirius couldn’t find it in him to argue. “It just hurt that you wouldn’t let me be there to protect you.”

Sirius cast his eyes towards the table and the stifled air in the crowded flat seemed to latch onto the misty chill from the cool teal and turquoise tones of Remus’ flat. He ached a little for the warmth he had once felt beside Remus, for the feeling of home. But no sooner had the ache begun to unfurl than Remus reached with his other hand, still warm from his mug, raising Sirius’ chin until he met his gaze.

“Sirius…” And when he spoke again, it was with that familiar exasperated fondness, that same comfort in his voice, love flooding his gaze for Sirius to soak up. “This wasn’t all your fault, you know. You didn’t deserve any of this either. Nobody deserves what she did to you, what she put you through. I may not like it, but I understand why you had to protect yourself, why you wanted to protect me. I just wish you hadn’t had to hurt yourself in the process.”

“Being away from you always hurts me, Remus. The thought of losing you…”

“I know, love, me too.”

“I wanted to self-destruct. I was ready to give up – I nearly did.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Nothing more was said while they drank their tea, still holding hands across the table.

“I really should be going. James’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.” Sirius broke the silence when he’d finished his cup. Remus nodded, but held fast to Sirius’ hand and he made no move of his own to untangle their fingers. “Are we… I know it’s not all going to be immediately fine between us, but are we…?”

“I… I’m not sure yet, Sirius. Can I have some time?”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Remus loosened his grip, releasing Sirius.

“Thank you. And thank you for coming, I know it can’t have been easy. I certainly didn’t make it any easier for you by getting so angry. Sorry for going off on you like that.”

“You’re allowed to be angry with me, Remus. Now and always, if you want, though I hope you won’t be.” He said, as he got up to leave. “Thank you for hearing me out anyway.”

“Always, Sirius.”

Sirius fought the urge to return to the table, to wrap himself around Remus and never let go, but he had promised James he would come home, and he still had Dorcas’ car. Besides which, throwing himself headfirst back into the deep end with Remus only ten days into his sobriety was probably not the best idea. With as many thoughts waging war in his head, he made it to the top of the narrow staircase, only to be stopped by the lurching scrape of a wooden chair against the floor.

“Wait-” Remus called after him.

One hand still on the handle, Sirius turned back to find Remus a mere breath away, suspending Sirius in the dark of his eyes. Raising his fingers to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen over Sirius’ face, his hand followed to cup Sirius’ cheek, brushing his thumb over the still fresh scar. Then Remus dipped his head, taking Sirius’ lips between his own in a deep, unending kiss, letting Sirius drink the air from his lungs. They were both a little breathless when Remus pulled away again.

“Sorry, um…” Remus began, a deep colour rising to his cheeks, and a nervous almost-smile playing about his lips as he murmured, light stubble and quiet words tickling against Sirius’ cheek, “I don’t mean to send mixed messages. I just, erm, the last couple of months… I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do that again.”

“You never need to apologise for that, Remus.” Sirius felt a sad smile rise on his lips, “I love you, Moony.”

“I love you too, cariad.”

~~~

When Sirius returned to James’, the last thing he expected was the overwhelming affection that greeted him in the form of Lily. The door had barely opened before a flurry of bright red hair was flying at him and he was pulled into a violent hug.

“Sirius, it’s so good to see you again. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She beamed as she released him from her grasp, and then narrowed her eyes. “Listen, James told me you went to see Remus. I’m glad you two have spoken, but just to warn you, I am not above committing defenestration if I ever hear you’ve hurt our boy again.”

“Hi Lily. Good to see you again…” Was all Sirius could manage, a little off-footing from the warm welcome laced with menace. Regulus had emerged at the bottom of the stairs by the entrance, and was leaning against the wall with a smug little smirk that Sirius was itching to wipe off. Before he could, though, he was bowled into another hug by James who had emerged from the kitchen wearing a bright flower-patterned apron and a dab of flour on his cheek.

“Right.” James said, when he released Sirius, all chipper and completely oblivious to the not-so-subtle threat Sirius had just received. “Dorcas and Marlene are in the living room. You can go through, I’m just getting the dinner ready.”

“You’re cooking?”

“Don’t worry, mum’s been giving me tips.”

“Since when?”

“That’s not important.” James muttered hurriedly, with the slight hint of a blush. “Now go on, I need someone to make sure those two don’t fornicate on my settee.”

“I’m not sure me being there is going to stop them.” Sirius grinned, and to his delight, Lily snorted loudly. “Actually, I think I need to speak to Reg first.”

“Oh. Right, yes of course.” James looked around, blustering a little as he attempted to make himself scarce, somehow taking several moments to realise he had been planning on returning to the kitchen anyway. Lily rolled her eyes with a sunny laugh and disappeared into the lounge.

“Out here?” Regulus asked. No hug from him then.

“Er… your room?”

“Sure.” They traipsed up to Sirius’ old attic room, and his stomach twisted a little at the notable touches of Regulus blending with his own historic footprint: Pictures of his friends from school, an old band t-shirt that Sirius thought had been incinerated over a decade ago, and piles of sheet music stacked up neatly by the dressing table.

“Like what you’ve done with the place.” He nodded to a poster of a bright rainbow and what appeared to be a scarecrow, a metal man, a lion, a small girl, and a dog walking side by side. Regulus snorted.

“Mr and Mrs Potter gave it to me. Said I should try making the room a bit more mine.”

“And they thought rainbows was the way to go.” Sirius gave a cynical laugh. Regulus simply shrugged, a small smile of matching laughter creeping onto his lips. “Listen Reggie, what I said when you came to see me-”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“I want to. Please Regulus, I need to. The things I said, the way I shouted at you, what I almost-”

“I don’t want your apology. I want something else.”

“Okay…”

“I want you to say I was right.” That smug little grin returned, and Sirius only then realised the trap he’d walked into.

“What? But that’s-”

“How I’m going to forgive you. If you admit I was right and that you were being stupid by holing yourself up, drinking yourself half to death, and agreeing to marry some woman.”

“Look Reggie, it’s a bit more complicated-”

“Hmm, funny. Doesn’t sound like you’re very sorry at all.”

“Regulus.” Sirius shot him a deadpan glare, which Regulus returned and they stared at each other for several minutes, before Sirius gave a loud groan. “Fine. You were right. It was a stupid idea. In my defence-”

“I never said it was unreasonable or unexpected. I said it was stupid.” Regulus interrupted, and Sirius could translate the sentiment for himself even if Regulus didn’t care to say what he really meant out loud. “Alright, I forgive you. Now what did you say to Remus?”

“Actually Reggie, before we get into that, I wanted to ask you about that reporter Remus found.” Something in Regulus’ expression contorted, and his gaze darted to a spot in the corner of the room. “That’s why she hurt you isn’t it? You found out what she was planning and you tried to stop her. For mine and Remus’ sake, you got hurt.”

“Well you don’t have to be a sap about it.” Regulus sniffed. “And no, not exactly.”

“Reg, tell me what happened. Please.”

“I didn’t know… If I’d known Remus was involved I would have said. I didn’t know the details, only that she was planning something.”

After a little more coaxing, Regulus finally admitted that the reporter had visited Grimmauld House, and he'd heard them talking about some arrangement, some investigation, heard the reporter saying he had found what they needed. He’d overheard Walburga on the phone that evening, the evening he turned up at the Potters’, talking to Cygnus. Heard her saying she’d found some way to make sure Sirius would do exactly as she wanted. He told Sirius how he’d confronted her, how he'd tried to get her to leave him alone, begged her not to force him to marry Cecelia. And how she’d reacted.

Sirius insisted on apologising then, wrestling Regulus into a hug that he professed he didn’t want, but Sirius knew he needed.

“You shouldn’t have had to do that for me, Regulus.” Sirius gave a pained sigh when it was over and he’d finally managed to let go of the murderous urges that had resurfaced during Regulus' explanation. “You’re my little brother; it’s my job to protect you.”

“We protect each other.” Regulus replied, the emotion carefully schooled out of his expression, but the blue in his grey eyes shone a little brighter, “That’s what love is.”

Sirius squinted at the man posing as his baby brother.

“You’ve been spending too much time with James,” he concluded. It earned him a frosty glare and an evening of the silent treatment.

~~~

James had Sirius’ books brought over to Peverell Estate the following day, and between the six of them they set about picking up Sirius’ research where he had left off. By the third day, Sirius had to ask Dorcas not to leave him unsupervised, worried about what he might do when left alone with the surmounting futility of his efforts.

The hour was late, the room aglow with dim lights fighting against the dark impressing on the house through the windows on all sides. James had gone to pick up Lily who had been out visiting some friends nearby, leaving the other four to continue working until they returned.

“Empty rooms…” Sirius murmured to the room and no one in particular, earning a confused look from Dorcas. Marlene popped up from between the pages of a law book she’d been tackling with mixed success, interrupting Sirius’ train of thought and Dorcas’ poised question.

“It says here that overriding interests do not require the land to be registered. Is this overriding interests?”

“I think it would be…” Sirius hummed to himself, “But it’s already registered, so that’s moot.”

“Alright. So what am I looking for?”

“I don’t know. Not that.”

“Right. Helpful.” Sirius was saved from more of Marlene’s scathing glares by the slamming of the front door.

“I brought reinforcements!” James announced loudly from the hallway, traipsing into the lounge with Lily, Mary and Remus in tow.

“Hey Mary, Remus.” Dorcas smiled, where her arm was still wrapped around Marlene, partly out of affection, and partly as a restraint to stop Marlene launching across the table to tackle Sirius where he was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by endless reams of research papers and heavy legal textbooks, huffily picking holes in every solution they had come up with so far.

“Mary, you know Dorcas and Marlene, and Sirius, of course. And this is Sirius’ brother, Regulus.” Lily did the sweeping introductions, but Sirius was hardly listening.

Instead, he was watching Remus. They hadn’t spoken since Sirius had gone over to his shop to apologise. Now, Remus was fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper and gnawing at the corner of his mouth, but when his eyes met Sirius’, there was an intensity there that struck out, piercing between his ribs. The others continued to chatter around them, falling away into the background as Remus approached the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa opposite.

“Hi.” He whispered, low enough that only Sirius could hear, and only because he was watching the movement of his lips. Then, Remus broke into a bashful, chapped smile, warmth filling his expression, and Sirius felt every ounce of tension, every tight-drawn muscle, every doubt plaguing his swarming mind, drift away.

“Hi.” He replied with a matching smile spreading across his lips. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, figured you could use an extra head with all this planning.”

“You are the cleverest person I know, Moony.” Sirius whispered back and his smile widened into a grin at the blush rising on Remus’ cheeks.

“As if.” Remus snorted. “I’ll let James know you think so.”

“He’d probably agree with me.” Ever so subtly, Sirius stretched his leg out beneath the table, his toes just brushing against Remus’ feet, where he was perched on James’ nice sofa, and watched the colour flood Remus’ cheeks at the fragile gesture. Their quiet exchange was interrupted when Mary flung herself on the sofa over Remus’ lap, turning to Sirius with a scrutinising gaze.

“Sirius, it’s been so long. Nice to see you again.”

“You too, Mary, listen I’m sorry-”

“Nothing to apologise to me for.” She smiled sweetly, though her menacing gaze and the way she clung protectively to Remus communicated the underlying threat, one that he had already had from Lily and Marlene, and slightly more unexpectedly, James. You hurt him again and you won’t live to regret it.

“Mary, leave him alone.” Remus huffed, shoving her off his lap and onto the sofa next to him, with an affectionate eyeroll.

“I didn’t say anything.” She sang back, with an airy voice of innocence, before shooting a wink at Marlene, who snorted. Remus cast them both a sharp look, and Marlene at least attempted to look apologetic, before shrugging and turning back to the book in front of her.

“No, she’s right.” Sirius directed himself to Mary, “I have plenty of making up to do.”

Mary nodded, acknowledging the silent promise in his words. Then Sirius turned back to Remus, seeing something of that old familiar mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“And how are you going to do that, I wonder?” It was Sirius’ turn to blush, as a momentary flicker of a devilish smirk spread across Remus’ lips, fixing Sirius with a heated stare, but then his smile slipped slightly and he looked away. Before Sirius could begin to ruminate on the thousand possible meanings behind Remus’ smile, James returned to collapse on the floor next to him with a heaving grunt.

Clapping his hands together with a heavyset frown, James seized the pile of papers in front of him, looking immediately disturbed by the vast density of information. “Where have we got to?”

“Sirius was saying something about empty rooms.” Dorcas spoke with her usual calming patience that Sirius had come to rely on in the last few days of hair-pulling frustration. Right, that was what he had been thinking about.

“Empty rooms?” Remus asked curiously, “What does that have to do with-”

“I’m not sure yet,” Sirius cut him off with an exasperated groan. “It’s all… I don’t know- it’s just… fuck. I’m not getting anywhere with this.”

“Sirius,” Remus reached across the table to place his hand over Sirius’ own, which was crumpling creases into the paper he’d been holding, “When was the last time you took a break? Might help to clear your head a bit.”

“We could all use a break.” Marlene put in, and Sirius huffed a sigh. He’d been running them ragged, trying to cram every possible moment with as much research as possible, but it was getting them nowhere. Remus was right. He needed to clear his head, to let the thoughts settle for a moment. Trying not to let it bother him when Remus released his hand to let him stand up, Sirius left the room without a word and fled to the kitchen.

In the few days since he’d been staying with James, Sirius had made no fewer than fifteen cups of tea, and the process had become almost meditative. It helped him, to be able to go through consistent motions, to have the gentle noise of the water bubbling up in the background, to have five minutes of silence in which he could let his thoughts breathe. He stopped trying to chase around empty rooms, and instead focused on what had brought him to this point, on everything he was fighting for. For Regulus’ freedom, for his own, for Remus. He thought about the relief he would feel once he had escaped his mother for good, thought about finally letting go of the fear that had hounded every misstep, of the guilt that had haunted his dreams. He thought about how, if only he and Regulus had had somewhere to go, they might have been able to escape so much earlier, before everything had gone so wrong.

Sirius was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen.

“You don’t need to supervise me every time, Prongs,” Sirius started, without turning round, “I promise, I will add the milk after the water.”

“Well, now I’ve seen everything.” Came a warm teasing voice. “Lord Black, making tea?”

Sirius snorted, feeling a flush spread through his body. His smile grew helplessly wide at the soft affection in Remus’ voice and his heart quickened to a giddy thump. He continued to stare at the kettle, not trusting what he might be tempted to do if he looked directly at Remus when they were alone together. Trying his best not to betray his anticipation at Remus’ approaching presence, Sirius reached in the cupboard for several mugs, and began distributing teabags into each of them from the little caddy on the worktop in front of him. A hand with familiar callouses and nimble fingers, caught his, trapping Sirius as he reached for another teabag.

“Remus, the tea-”

But he was cut short, as firm arms came to wrap around Sirius’ waist, and carefully, gently, Remus placed a small kiss against the side of Sirius’ neck. Sirius relaxed into his hold, craning his neck back against the sturdy shoulder and adjusting his weight so that he was leaning ever so slightly against Remus’ familiar, comforting frame. The low vibrations of Remus’ murmuring tones rolled through him as he spoke.

“Hang the bloody tea, Sirius.”

“Okay.” was his quiet reply, turning in Remus’ arms to stare up at the man surrounding him. Tilting his head up to meet Remus’ mouth, their lips fused in a chaste kiss, firm but uncertain, tentative yet hopeful.

The kiss deepened, lips parting, tongues flickering in cautious swipes, testing the limits of their renewed contact. Then all of a sudden Sirius was stumbling backwards, as Remus steered him into the centre of the room and pushed him back against James' kitchen table. With open, hungry kisses, he carefully propped Sirius onto its surface.

“God… I missed this.” He mumbled between kisses, boxing Sirius in between his arms that stretched out on the table behind him, crowding into Sirius’ space. Then, turning Sirius’ face towards him with a rough hand cupping his cheek, Remus parted Sirius’ legs, inserting his body between them. Sirius was already breathless, his hands burrowing their way beneath Remus’ jumper to claw at warm skin, while Remus’ fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt.

A derisive cough from across the room startled them apart. Snapping out of their tea-steamed haze, they turned towards the entrance to the kitchen where Lily was stood with a raised eyebrow, folded arms, and an amused smirk. “We were wondering what was taking so long…”

“Right.” Sirius jumped down from the table, Remus clearing his throat and ducking his head as he backed away to give Sirius room to move. “Sorry, tea’ll just be a minute.”

“Coffee for me and Regulus, please.” Lily called over her shoulder as she turned to leave again. Remus’ lips were back on Sirius the instant she was out of sight.

“Mm… Moony, love,” Sirius mumbled against his lips, “Please let me make the tea…”

“I missed you.” Remus whispered, no longer throwing the words out between passionate kisses, but instead delicately wrapping them up in something small and sincere as he handed them over to Sirius for safe keeping. “We should… when you’re ready, we should talk about this. About us.”

He offered Sirius a nervous smile as he spoke and Sirius did his best not to let his flustered state and still-thrumming pulse raise his hopes too much. But he nodded, and returned Remus’ tentative smile.

Sirius accepted readily when Remus leant in for another, deep kiss. Then he straightened up Sirius’ buttons and ran a placating hand through his mussed up hair. “Don’t forget the coffee.”

Planting one last peck on his lips, Remus left as well.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Hang on just a hot damn second!” Marlene was saying when Sirius returned to James’ living room carrying a tray of mugs, in a light daze and wearing a slightly wonky smile. Remus caught his eye and shot him a small, teasing smirk. “It has to be public, doesn’t it? Public opinion would make it harder for your board to go against you.”

“Right… but that’s-” Sirius started, depositing the tray on the book-strewn table.

“You’re in the House of Lords, right?” Mary turned to Sirius, chasing Marlene’s idea and ignoring his protests. “Don’t you get to make speeches there and stuff?”

“Well, technically-”

“Yes, Mary!” James added with unwarranted enthusiasm, “And you’ve been saying how they’ve been nagging you about your maiden speech, right Pads?”

“Yes, but-”

“So it just needs to be something that if they opposed would damage their reputations enough that nothing Walburga could offer or threaten would be worth it.” Lily finished with a little burst of triumph. And Sirius frowned at the small group of faces looking expectantly up at him, as though they’d somehow magically solved a problem that Sirius had been working on actively for weeks, and passively for most of his life.

“That… yeah, that could work.” Sirius let the idea sit for a moment, tossed it over his tongue, between his ears. “I don’t have anything to talk about though. What speech am I going to make that’s going to win the support of the public, parliament and my board of directors, while at the same time getting rid of the Walburga problem?”

“You’re going to talk about us.” Came the voice hidden at the back of the room, where Regulus had been thumbing silently over the keys of James’ pianoforte.

“Reggie, what are you…”

“You didn’t think you were the only one working on a way out, did you?” Regulus shrugged, making his way over to the coffee table where the rest of them were gathered, and slotting himself in an empty space beside Marlene. Sirius looked to James, hoping for some clarity, but was only met by a slight grimace.

“We were sort of looking into maybe possibly reporting your mother. Lily and I’ve been helping Reg with his statement pretty much since he got here,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Sirius frowned ignoring the sudden jolt of panic at the thought of headlines upon headlines smeared with images of his own, naïve happiness, surrounded by columns overflowing with gossip and intrigue.

“I didn’t want to mention it in case…” James drifted off, ruffling a hand through his hair as he spoke. Sirius could fill in the blanks.

“Besides, you haven’t exactly been easy to reach.” Regulus stated, and the air spiked with tension. He fiddled with the corner of a page, as he spoke in a disinterested tone, either unaware or unbothered by the way everyone else had suddenly tensed up. “If I submit my statement, we can press charges. Then you confirm it in your speech and present a motion or some kind of initiative to go along with it. After that, the board will have to go along with whatever you decide unless they want to appear to be sympathising with alleged abusers.”

“But Reg, what about-”

“That was different. This time we’ll be in control of the narrative. This time we have evidence.” He nodded towards Remus, “Dr Pomfrey’s agreed to provide a medical statement in support.”

“I can’t… James, I can’t. Last time…”

“Last time, you weren’t prepared.” James moved to where Sirius was frozen rigid, towering over the untouched mugs of tea, to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Last time, you were a child with no one to help you. But Sirius, you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

Sirius looked over to where Remus was staring at him, eyes clouded with concern, brow drawn together in a deep furrow. But he saw past the unspoken worry to a deeper strength that had always shone back at him in unbreakable shades of mahogany. He thought back to the first time he had told Remus his story, the safety he had felt in Remus’ arms. The home he had found when Remus had called him strong and beautiful. And unapologetically you.

“Sirius,” James nudged him back into the present, “Whatever you decide, you’re not doing this alone. We’re with you.”

“Empty rooms,” He murmured, not realising at first that he had spoken aloud until he registered Remus’ furrow deepen and James’ confusion in front of him. “Empty rooms. Dorcas, you bloody genius.”

“Nice of you to finally admit it.” Dorcas shrugged. “What did I do?”

But Sirius was already pulling his friend to her feet, scooping both Dorcas and James into crashing hug.

“Um, hey?” Mary coughed pointedly, “Think we might’ve helped a bit too.”

Sirius released them from their hug and beamed widely at his friends. “You’re all bloody brilliant.”

~~~

It took a little over a fortnight to line everything up perfectly, and it had been a manic rush. Between the phone calls that had to be made, the endless paperwork, the never-ending meetings and the blasted speechwriting (which Sirius hated most of all), he and Remus hadn’t had a chance to talk, not properly at least. There were soft smiles cast over the coffee table when Sirius looked up to find Remus already looking at him. There were teasing glances and affectionate murmurs spoken low into his ears as Remus passed by him in the hall. There were even occasional heated kisses exchanged in quiet corners tucked away out of sight. The others, by now, had learned the kitchen was no place to be while Sirius was making tea. But they hadn’t gone any further than drifting hands and searching tongues and they continued to whisper their goodnights to each other before disappearing into separate rooms. There had been no time for a conversation, and Sirius hadn’t had the capacity to think about what his life would look like once all this tireless work came to its conclusion.

Sirius had, with Dorcas’ assistance, managed to liaise discreetly with several organisations equipped to help put his ideas into action. He had even felt a small resurgence of that tentative excitement as he coordinated the arrangements and presented his proposal. Then it had been a simple matter of getting his board of directors on side, while Regulus worked closely with the local authorities. Giving the House of Lords notice for his speech was easy enough since they’d been pestering him since early May about contributing to any of the ongoing topics for debate. The only difficult part had been keeping Cygnus out of the loop, which had meant seeking support from the opposition’s benches, most of whom were less than keen on Sirius, the House of Black, and everything it stood for. But Sirius was nothing if not charming, so he put his time in on the days he knew Cygnus and his lackeys would not be in attendance, and set about greasing the necessary palms.

In the end it came down mostly to the non-hereditary peers, those who had most staunchly opposed Sirius’ appointment to his father’s vacant seat in the first instance. In that at least, Sirius found they had common ground, and from there it was easy enough to win their support. Lord Theodore Prewett (Gideon, Fabian and Molly’s father), the former commissioner of Scotland Yard, had been one of the few who had shown upfront support of Sirius’ introduction to the House without needing to be blackmailed (though his ever-surveying stern gaze put Sirius on edge more often than not). Then there was Lord Everett Meadowes, Dorcas’ father, who admittedly was a hereditary peer like Sirius; nevertheless he was one of the more sober, rational members of the house.

After much discussion and careful manoeuvring, Sirius managed to persuade Dame Bathilda Bagshot to lend her support. Sirius had recognised her from a number of important occasions, where she always seemed to be in high demand for an opinion, though he had seldom heard her speak. In fact, the only memory he had of interacting with her was as a young boy. He had been at some benefit or function with Walburga and Orion, and found himself running into the old women’s skirts as he attempted to win a game of hid-and-seek against Regulus. Walburga had stormed over the moment she caught sight of the commotion, ready to drag him out by the ear, but Bathilda had stopped her, shot Sirius a toothy grin, and handed him a mint humbug. He had never seen his mother’s face contort in such a way before or since. Despite the hiding he received when they returned home, he still admired the first person he’d ever truly seen stand up to Walburga Black, whether through bravery or ignorance, he couldn’t be sure. Either way, having Bathilda onside almost ensured the public's support.

The part of his plan that Sirius had been most nervous about was possibly the easiest step of all. He had turned to Minerva, heart in his throat, as he implored her to see the benefits of his proposal.

“I understand if you would prefer to find a new position elsewhere,” he’d told her, once he’d laid out the details, “and I’ll be more than happy to provide you with suitable references, but if you would consider my offer… There are a few accreditations required, but you already have enough experience that these could be fast-tracked, and I would sponsor those. I’ve communicated with the various services to ensure that there would be experienced staff – working under you of course. The services are happy to provide what’s needed, given the amount I’ve donated for the benefit, and I’ll continue to provide for the upkeep of Godric Hall, but you would oversee everything. It wouldn’t be much of a change from what you do now really, though maybe a bit… livelier. I know it’s not a museum like you’d hoped, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but-”

“Lord Black, if you would kindly let me speak.”

“Yes, sorry Minerva. Please, go ahead.” He waited in anxious anticipation, unable to disguise the nervousness etched across his features under Minerva’s unreadable gaze.

“Sirius, it would be an honour.” The corners of her lips lifted in an almost smile, and then, “I am so very proud of you.”

For the second time in his life, Sirius bawled uncontrollably in front of Minerva McGonagall, only this time it wasn’t from years of tamped up hurt and frustration, but from the sheer wave of love for the woman who had been nothing short of family to him from the moment he had stepped foot in Godric Hall.

All that was left was to make the announcement in parliament.

The night before his speech, Sirius had retired to his room before nine o’clock under the guise of getting an early night, but at midnight he was still standing in front of the mirror in his room running over his speech – again. There was a light tap at his door and soft brown eyes appeared through the open wedge.

“You’ll wear your voice out if you keep practicing this much.”

“I can’t sleep.” Sirius admitted, nodding his head for Remus to enter. He hovered nervously by the door, even after he closed it behind him, keeping his arms folded behind his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh… Um, no nothing, I just-” Remus cut himself off, teeth teasing at his bottom lip, and he regarded Sirius for a moment, before bringing his hands out from behind his back, revealing a black suit bag. “I nipped home earlier to pick this up. Thought you might want it.”

Then he crossed over to Sirius’ bed, and lay the material out, dragging the zip down to reveal a suit. It was the suit he had commissioned for Narcissa’s wedding. And it was spectacular.

It was made from the same purplish-black fabric that Sirius had fallen in love with the very first time he had visited Lupin’s sartorial. The hem of the jacket extended all the way to the floor in rippling swathes, contrasting with the pointed lapels cut into sharp, sleek angles. The waistcoat underneath was made from a rich maroon velvet, lined with gold buttons, and on the corner of the jacket’s lapel, a tiny silver moon. The thing that took Sirius’ breath away, though, dancing in intricately woven lines over the cinched waistline and running down the crisp seams of the trousers, were hundreds of tiny constellations painstakingly stitched by hand in silver and gold thread.

“Remus is that…”

“I had Al send me some more of the material after I made you that first suit, seeing as you liked it so much. And you mentioned how you liked the maroon wallpaper in my shop, so I wanted to work that in a bit. The moon and stars… I think you can guess.” Remus blushed as he spoke, keeping his eyes fixed pointedly on the suit, and sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought- I thought that way you could have me with you even when I can’t be there in person.”

Sirius frowned.

“Sorry, I know it’s a lot when we… I did most of the design before… it’s too much isn’t it?”

“I love it.” His voice caught in his throat, coming out in a hoarse whisper. “It’s- it’s gorgeous Remus. But somehow I don’t think I’ll still be invited to the wedding.” To his relief, Remus chuckled at that, still a little nervousness wavering in his voice.

“I actually thought- and, um, I know it might be a longshot… But I thought you might want to wear it tomorrow?” Before adding hurriedly, “It’s not exactly typical business wear, though, so I understand if you’d rather-”

“I’ll wear it.” Sirius snapped, seizing up the suit ahead of Remus’ hand which had tentatively began to reach out to zip the suit back into its bag. Remus looked a little taken aback, but then his expression fell into a soft, eye-crinkling smile. “I want to wear it. Of course, I do. Remus, it’s stunning. Thank you.”

Remus exhaled a deep sigh of relief, filling Sirius’ ears with another warm chuckle as he finally closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Sirius and inhaling deeply into his hair. “You’re very welcome, Lord Black.”

“Do you think…” Sirius began, his words a little muffled as he spoke into the crease of Remus’ shoulder, one hand still clinging to the suit. “Do you think it’s going to work?”

“I know it will, cariad.” Came Remus’ warm, soothing words, “You’re going to be brilliant.”

Sirius nodded, letting himself believe Remus’ words, sinking deeper into the warmth of his steadying hold. They stayed together like that for a while, until Sirius realised he was beginning to drift off.

“You should get some sleep.” Remus murmured.

Sirius let himself be guided towards the bed, let Remus tuck the blankets in around him. Prising the suit away from him to hang on the mirror, Remus brushed an unruly swathe of hair from Sirius' face and planted a small kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight, Moony.” Sirius whispered into the dark as Remus flicked off the light.

“Night, love. See you tomorrow.” Remus replied, slipping back out the door and across the hall. Sirius drifted off to sleep to the gentle padding of Remus’ fading footsteps.

~~~

“She’s going to kill me.”

“She can’t touch you, the injunction is already pending against her, Sirius.”

“It’s all up to you now and you’re going to be great.”

“What about Reggie, I can’t do this to him again.”

“You know he’s with you on this. And you won’t be mentioning him by name, only speaking about your own experiences, Sirius. Nobody can stop you from telling your own story.”

“This is a mistake. Oh god, what about the press release?”

“All teed up, Sirius. And the contracts are drawn up and ready to go. You’ve already got majority support on the board.”

“Everything’s ready now, Pads. This is it.”

“Besides, it’s too bloody late to back out now. It’s on the order paper for today.”

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He cursed until a firm, reassuring hand closed over his shoulder.

“You’re going to be amazing, cariad.”

“Fuck.” He replied, but it was with a small resolving sigh.

His skin prickled with heat under his neatly starched suit, heels clicking heavily on the polished wood floor underfoot as he strode through the towering glass doors, leaving his friends in the central lobby. Despite the crowds, he was already drawing attention, so Sirius glazed over his nerves, once again employing his perfected sneer to fend off any casual glances. Not that it was entirely without cause. Sirius’ striking features and notorious reputation were enough to draw attention on any given day. However, Sirius had arrived in Remus’ suit as promised, and coupling his face and his fame together with his star-studded suit, all eyes were on him as he strode through the glittering gold corridors.

When he reached the chamber, a few other members were already seated. From the opposing end of the chamber, Dame Bathilda shot him that same toothy grin he’d remembered as a child, and, breaking his carefully constructed shell for a flickering instant, Sirius returned a small, genuine smile. Then it was gone again as Lord Cygnus stalked through the door, accompanied by his lackeys, Avery, Nott, and Mulciber. Cygnus caught his gaze from across the chamber, his coal black eyes laced with fury. It seemed as though he already knew what Sirius planned to do, but even if he had somehow found out, it was too late. Everything was already done, all Sirius had to do was make it public. Sirius closed his eyes for a moment and breathed through those still-fluttering nerves. He traced a finger down over the moon-stitched lapel of his jacket and imagined he was sitting in that cosy, falling-apart kitchen, clutching a cup of tea in one hand and Remus’ calloused hand in the other.

The burble of noise around him grew as more members filtered into the chamber, drifting together in small clumps of conversations. It was busier than Sirius had come to expect during his previous sessions, where a smattering had been present. Today though, it seemed nearly a full house had turned out, each new arrival casting beady-eyed glances over towards Sirius. There was no doubt that parliament had had turned up in their droves to hear his maiden speech, to see exactly what kind of man the newest Lord Black would turn out to be. Sirius clutched his hands in his lap, said a prayer to some unknown deity, and gritted his teeth as the Leader of the House opened the session.

By the time it was Sirius’ turn to speak, he was already shaking. He cast an eye over the chamber as he stood, catching the glint of a sneer from Cygnus across the floor.

“My right honourable lords and ladies,” Sirius began with the slightest hint of a quiver in his voice. Then he looked up to the gallery, and there they were. His family. His real family – beaming down at him from the sidings. It was all the strength he needed.

“Some of you may know me as the son of the late Orion Black. Some of you may know me as a juvenile delinquent, a troublemaker, an errant wayward youth.” Sirius glanced a bashful grin at this, earning a small tittering ripple through the crowd. “But some of you may remember me from headlines that appeared in the news a little over ten years ago. At that time, an acquaintance of mine sold information about me and my family to the press.”

So Sirius began to tell his story. He told a story of two brothers, young, afraid, and trapped. He told a story of parents who cut their love with strings and conditions, who saturated their punishments with cruel words and vicious wounds – some too deep to ever heal. He told his story of a boy punished for being nothing less than who he was. Once Sirius had started speaking, it all came out so clearly that he barely needed his notes. He was careful to share only as much as necessary, to keep in mind the purpose of his story so that he wouldn’t be led down a tunnel of horrors, reliving the stories as he told them. And as he spoke something ignited in his chest, some fervent design. Some febrile hope broadened beneath his sternum, reaching into the cracks of that dark and empty cavity, filling it with pride, passion, and purpose. That he could give meaning to all the suffering he’d endured, and add weight to his flittering existence bolstered his resolve, so that by the time his speech reached its conclusion, every word he spoke was ringing out clearly through the chamber over the hushed din of his captivated audience.

“If some of the things I have recounted today sound familiar, it could be that you are remembering them from the repeated media coverage. You may also remember that I chose to give no comment at the time. Or, I should say, my family decided for me, to keep the matter quiet. I was young, queer, afraid, isolated. I attempted to take my own life rather than speak out about the truth of the matter. Orion and Walburga Black, along with other members of my extended family, had such control over my existence that to speak out was, to my mind, more terrifying than death itself. But I have finally broken free of that control, thanks to the love and support of good people who have given me a home, a place to grow and recover from the cruelties I experienced as a child.

“Sometimes I think about the lives my brother and I might have led if we’d had somewhere safe to go, if there had been a home full of empty rooms where we could have escaped the violence and tyranny of our parents. While such hypotheticals may be futile to imagine, there is still plenty that can be done to ensure a future where no child is without shelter and a safe place to call home. As a demonstration of my commitment to this cause, I will be donating all but one of the Black family properties to be converted into refuges, shelters, and youth centres. In addition, the Black Estate will pledge a yearly donation equal to ten percent of our annual income towards creating safe spaces for young people who have been displaced – who have been forced from their home – by domestic abuse. This pledge will continue for as long as I am Lord Black.

“While I cannot compel any of you to follow suit, I would like to express my deepest hope that at least some of my fellow peers sitting here with me today may be moved by what I have shared, and be generous enough to gift either their time, their wealth, or their land to this cause.”

Sirius’ pulse was still racing long after his speech had ended. He hardly registered the debates that followed, and only that drilled-in politeness kept him in his seat for the rest of the morning session. He had expected his friends to escape to more lively entertainments once his allocated time was over, but when the chambers emptied for lunch they were all there waiting for him in the lobby.

Their praise erupted all at once as he was crowded by his loved ones, in a chaos of congratulations and hair and squeals and hugs and more congratulations. Together, they made their way out of the towering halls out into the teeming streets of Westminster, the autumn air hitting Sirius in an instant chill.

No sooner had the cold begun to calm his nerves, than they were set alight again by a hand threading into his, pulling him away from the small crowd his friends were forming on the pavement. When he looked up, Sirius found himself backed against an ancient stone wall with Remus towering over him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Sirius breathed, his response forming a cloud in the narrow gap between them.

“Said you’d be brilliant, didn’t I?” He muttered low into Sirius’ ear, sending a thrilling heat through his body and splashing colour into his cheeks.

“Right as usual, Mr Moony.” Sirius rolled his eyes, attempting to appear less affected than he was, despite Remus’ knowing smirk.

“I do have one question though.”

“Hm?”

“You said you would donate all but one of your family properties. I thought you were donating Godric Hall for Minerva to run?”

“I am.” Sirius shrugged.

“Then what-”

“Grimmauld House.” He answered quickly, brushing past the shock in Remus’ expression, “Walburga may very well rot in prison for the rest of her sorry life, but if she manages to weasel her way out of a sentencing, as I suspect she might, she’ll need somewhere to live.”

“You’re too good, Sirius. She doesn’t deserve anything from you after the things she’s done.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Sirius agreed, not attempting to hide the cold disgust in his own voice. “But if she doesn’t want me donating that hell-ridden blight of a house, she’ll have to agree to my offer: I let her keep it in exchange for full control of the Black estate. No caveats, no conditions. That way I’ll be free to run operations and continue funding the Black Foundation.”

“God you’re brilliant.” Remus breathed, and then with a quirking frown of confusion, he asked, “The Black Foundation?”

“The charity initiative- Moony, my whole speech was just- oh god, did I not mention the foundation?” Sirius groaned, sinking his head in his hands. “I bloody hate speeches.”

“You did just fine, love,” Remus chuckled, “It’ll be in the press release anyway.” Sirius emerged from beneath his hands to look up at Remus, still staring at him with an unrelenting affection.

“Something I can help you with?” He murmured, wanting the palpable tension to either end or drown him completely. Remus fixed him with his steady gaze, and Sirius found himself getting lost in the shadows forming in his eyes, growing hot under the warmth of his fond, beaming smile.

“I thought…” Remus spoke softly, after several long moments passed. “Well, um, I thought that now that was over and done with, you might want to have a chat?”

“Yeah…” He answered, only half-listening because as Remus spoke, he tilted his head slightly, catching the sun in forested depths. The light in his eyes seemed to dance as Remus’ throat bobbed in another warm chuckle, shaking Sirius out of his trance. “Yes. Yeah, we should talk.”

“Good, because I was thinking… maybe we could go on a date to celebrate you being one month sober.”

“One month… has it already been a month? Everything’s been so busy I hadn’t even noticed.” Now that Remus mentioned it, Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about a drink.

“Well I’m proud of you. For that, and for all the work you’ve been doing. So I think we should go to dinner. Or you can come back to mine and I’ll cook for you?”

“That… that sound perfect actually. I think I want to be away from all the crowds, go somewhere quiet now that the hard part’s over.” Sirius gave a weak chuckle.

“Then it’s a date.”

“Right, a date.” Sirius repeated, “Wait, a date- does that mean…?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it Lord Black.” Remus teased with mischief piercing his laughter.

“Oi, thought you said I was brilliant.”

“You are brilliant, cariad. You’re also a bit daft sometimes.”

“Only around you.”

“So it’s my fault now is it?”

“Yes and I think you should probably find some way to make it up to me.”

“Good thing I’m cooking you dinner then, isn’t it?”

“For our date.”

“For our date,” Remus agreed, and Sirius could see the ghost of a grin hesitating to appear when he asked, “Is that okay?”

“More than okay. It’s… Remus, I’m- I don’t know if I mentioned, but I am in love with you.”

“Think you might’ve mentioned it.” Remus burst into a smile too broad to contain. “Once or twice.”

“First of all, you’re meant to say ‘I love you too’,” Remus’ eyebrow raised at that, but all teasing vanished when Sirius continued. “Second of all, I wanted to say it properly, now that… now that things are getting better. I want you to know that I mean it, truly. In case you thought I was saying it because I was feeling guilty, or as part of an apology, or whatever other reason you might have come up with to doubt that I really meant it. Because I did. I do. I love you.”

Remus didn’t say ‘I love you too’, didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned back onto the street, his fingers still intertwined with Sirius’, tugging him towards the station. There were vague noises of complaint from James and the others, who were still debating where to go, but Remus simply waved over his shoulder and called back, “Sorry, we’ll be heading home now.”

~~~

In the end, Remus made them buttered toast for dinner. Sirius had demanded that Remus sprinkle pepper on his, and Remus had complied with a scowl, calling him a degenerate reprobate and a posh wanker, as well as a few other choice names that Sirius didn’t quite catch because they were muttered under his breath in Welsh. Nevertheless, they ate in contented quiet, leaning against each other on Remus’ sofa, mostly because they were too tired for anything else by the time they finally managed to eat. They would talk in the morning, Remus had made him promise.

The two-hour-long train back from London had been almost unbearable. Remus had hardly said a word, staring out the window without ever releasing Sirius’ hand. When he did occasionally glance at Sirius, it was as if common decency were the only thing keeping him from laying Sirius out then and there.

That turned out to be the case when they got to Birmingham where Frank was waiting to pick them up. Apparently common decency was no longer an issue once they were safely tucked away in the back of Sirius’ saloon with only Frank to bear witness to their indecorous display. Sirius had paid attention long enough to communicate the change in destination, directing an apologetic grimace towards Frank who hastily rolled up the privacy screen as Remus set about disrobing Sirius of his jacket and tie. Sirius was begging to come before they even reached the border, but of course this was where Remus drew the line.

“I don’t think we should be making a mess in Frank’s car, now should we?” He’d chided, before sucking a deep bruise against Sirius’ neck. He wanted to point out that even if Frank was the one who drove it, maintained it, practically lived in it, it was still very much his car. But Sirius was too delirious from the endless sensation of Remus’ lips against his skin to correct him.

The road turned sharply, knocking Remus forward in a sudden jolt, his thigh pressing against Sirius’ erection that had been aching for relief since they’d left the outskirts of London. At the brief contact, Sirius had released a loud moan, and he heard the radio turn up a notch in the background. Despite this, Remus remained unmoved by Sirius’ plight, and was careful to avoid any further contact that might have afforded him an ounce of relief. Instead, as the sun began to sink between familiar rolling valleys, Remus continued to trace taunting lines across Sirius’ torso with his teeth, tongue and fingers – content to let Sirius squirm and garble incoherent sounds beneath him.

They stumbled together against the door of Lupin’s Sartorial when they arrived. While Remus battled the lock, Sirius did nothing to help, actively becoming a detriment when he took the opportunity to shuck his hands beneath Remus’ suit, seeking out a gap above the waistline of Remus’ trousers to spread his hands against the warmth of his stomach.

“Sirius,” Remus grumbled, “Can you wait until we’re inside, please. The neighbours- oh, fuck.” Remus gave a light moan, shuddering a little, as Sirius slipped his fingers just past the line of his belt, skirting within millimetres of Remus’ own straining cock.

“If you wanted me to wait you shouldn’t have spent the last two hours groping me in the back of my car.” Sirius muttered, his lips pressed against Remus’ neck, as he pinched Remus’ side, making him jolt and drop the keys. Extracting himself from Sirius’ grip and keeping him held back at arm’s length, he bent down to retrieve the keys, finally managing to open the door. The second they were past the threshold, though, his arm released, letting Sirius loose into his space.

“Hmm, but where would be the fun in that?” Remus teased pulling them back towards a seat at the workbench, where he pulled Sirius down to straddle on top of him.

“Right here? In the shop?” Sirius grinned in amusement to disguise how flustered he’d become when Remus had pulled him onto his lap by his arse, pressing their hips together. Sirius rocked forward lightly, letting Remus feel the hard outline of his cock.

“Thought it might be fun.” Remus’ eyebrow raised to meet Sirius’ challenge, gripping tighter, pulling him even closer, and dragging out a dirty moan from Sirius’ lips at the relieving pressure. “Besides it’s dark enough without the lights. No one’s going to see unless they’re pressing their noses right up to the glass, and at that point I’d say they deserve a bit of a show.”

“Always suspected you were bit of an exhibitionist, Moony.”

“Mhm, and I’m supposing you can’t help how loud you are? Or am I just that good?”

“Asked and answered. Next question.”

“Alright, Sirius,” Remus’ lips curled and Sirius felt a flicker of excitement pulse through his veins at the threat leaking into his words. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Ask away, Remus.”

“How do you feel about me?” Remus wore the perfect expression of innocence as he posed the question.

“Hmm…” Sirius feigned thoughtfulness, removing his wandering hands from Remus to cross his arms, tapping a finger at his chin. “you’re tolerable I suppose.”

“Just tolerable?” Remus’ grip around his waist tightened a little, and his dark eyes grew a little wilder. “And what about now?” Remus asked, tracing a finger along the line of Sirius’ collar where his shirt was split halfway down his chest from Remus’ attentions in the car. Sirius shivered at the touch, inadvertently rocking his hips in Remus’ lap as he did so.

“Mm, I suppose I like you a little better now.” Sirius attempted to hide the needy quiver in his voice, but the triumph in Remus’ expression told him he had failed.

“How about if I do this?” Remus continued, his smirk growing wicked as the last of Sirius’ buttons came undone and he leant forward to take Sirius’ nipple between his teeth, tugging just a little too hard, enough for Sirius to release a stuttered moan. Sirius began rocking his hips with intention, feeling Remus’ swelling cock press against his own through the starched material of their suits. Sirius’ shirt fell to the floor, and Remus’ hands followed down the curve of Sirius’ spine, slipping beneath his trousers to seize handfuls of Sirius’ arse, using the grip to aid Sirius’ motion in his lap.

“Definitely… ah,” Sirius caught in a gasp as Remus’ tongue flicked out between his teeth still clamped around his nipple, “I’d definitely say I like you quite a bit.”

“And now?” One of Remus’ hands moved round his waist, opening the button of Sirius’ trousers with a deft flick of his thumb, before tugging down the zip constraining his stiffening erection. Still cloaked in his silk briefs, Remus took a firm grip of Sirius’ cock, sliding the smooth material back and forth with his hand until a wet spot began to form at the tip.

“Really, really, like you.” Sirius mumbled between breathy gasps and ecstatic moans, as Remus continued his movements, his skilful fingers bringing Sirius close to climax from where he’d been teetering on edge for the last few hours. “Remus, please…”

“You want to come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, god yes. Please, Moony.”

“Then answer me honestly.” Remus warned, his voice taking on that stern timbre that Sirius loved so much, his teeth grazing Sirius’ chest as he spoke, delivering firm kisses between each word. “How do you feel about me?”

“You know how I feel about you, Remus.” Remus’ movements halted, squeezing him tight around the base of his cock to stop him from coming too soon. Sirius felt Remus’ cock twitch beneath him at the sound of his whine, he pressed down with his thighs, applying a little extra pressure to Remus’ erection beneath him.

“Nggh,” Remus groaned at Sirius’ efforts, but didn’t release his grip. “Tell me again, sweetheart. Want to hear you say it.”

“Please, Remus…” Sirius begged and Remus gave a sharp tug of his wrist around Sirius’ cock as incentive, before resuming agonisingly slow movements, not quite enough to help him to his climax, “I… I… I- oh fuck, I love you Moony.”

As soon as the words passed his lips, Remus redoubled his efforts, pulling Sirius’ orgasm from deep inside him, as he sputtered moans and desperate shouts of ‘I love you’.

“Love you too.” Remus murmured against Sirius’ lips, before tangling their tongues together, drawing another lusty moan out from under Sirius’ teeth.

“We really need to be more careful,” Sirius snorted, standing up from Remus’ lap to extricate himself from his trousers, folding them carefully over a nearby mannequin. He was careful to avoid making a mess with his soiled briefs, which he also removed, wiping himself clean, before chucking them somewhere to the back of the room to be dealt with later. When he looked back, he couldn’t help the little chuckle at Remus who was seemingly bewitched watching his bare arse.

“Hm, what was that love?” Remus glanced up, only blushing a little at being caught.

“I was saying we need to be more careful – we almost ruined my new suit.”

“S’not my fault you look so fuckable in my suits.” Remus replied, standing up towards Sirius and pulling him into a kiss as he ran searching hands over Sirius’ naked body. But Sirius stopped short for a moment at Remus’ comment and pulled away.

“Remus, I… I’m really sorry. All your lovely suits, all your hard work… I made Minerva throw them out when I was…” Sirius was submerged beneath a fresh wave of guilt, hardly able to look at Remus as he waited for the inevitable disappointment, the first fracture in their rekindled relationship. But instead, Remus smirked.

“I was wondering when you’d ask about those.”

“What do you-”

“Minerva brought them here a couple of months ago. Said she hoped you might find your way back to them.” Remus pulled Sirius back into his space, arching his body around Sirius as he added in a low whisper, “But for the record, sweetheart, seeing you in my suits is an added bonus. I love you whatever you’re wearing. Or not wearing.” He added with an appreciative flicker of his gaze travelling down the length of Sirius’ body.

Sirius shuddered as the heat from Remus’ gaze, but something of his own hesitance, the residual traces of guilt, must have shown in his expression, because then Remus was watching him with a thoughtful furrow in his brow.

“Hey, where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere, I just…” Sirius trailed off, not wanting to ruin the moment with lingering doubts and insecurities.

“Sirius, if we’re doing this, I mean really doing this, we’re doing this together. Good, bad, all of it. That means you letting me know when there’s something bothering you.”

“Right. You’re right.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise, Remus.” Sirius nodded, reaching up to thread his fingers into Remus’ hair. Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he tilted into the touch, resting his jaw against Sirius’ palm. “This… I want to do this with you. Together.”

Sirius closed the gap between them again, pressing a firm kiss to Remus’ lips. Remus allowed the distraction to go on for several minutes as the kiss deepened, pulling them back into the wandering caresses of their fingers playing out silent admiration against each other’s bodies. Then he pulled away again, keeping his hands around Sirius’ waist.

“Nice try.” Remus smirked, and Sirius couldn’t help the small smile that accompanied his frustrated huff. “So what was that just now? Talk to me, sweetheart, please.”

“It’s…” Sirius sighed. “I suppose I’m still wondering what on earth you could possibly see in me. How you could love me. After everything I’ve done…”

“Oh, darling.” Remus sighed, running his hand in a soothing motion against his side. “I wish you could see what I see. I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, Moony.”

Remus pressed in for a kiss, his clothes rubbing friction against Sirius’ naked body. Then Sirius’ hands were moving quickly, at the reminder of Remus’ still hard erection pressing up against him. He loosened Remus’ tie, releasing the buttons of his shirt, pushing the jacket over Remus’ shoulders onto the floor as they continued to exchange fervent kisses.

“Mm… Sirius, sweetheart?” Remus mumbled through their joined lips. “I’m meant to be cooking you dinner… for our date?”

“Mhm.” Sirius hummed back, refusing to let his lips leave Remus’ skin long enough to speak, as he pressed kisses against Remus’ jaw and down his neck, eliciting a deep growl.

“Sirius,” Came the stern voice that only made Sirius more desperate, “We were going to talk first, remember? I think we should.”

“Yes, yep,” Sirius rushed in his muttered distraction, fastening his lips to each new exposed fragment of skin as his hands worked his way down Remus’ shirt. “We’ll talk, love. Talk about everything.”

“Sirius.” Came the groan, as Remus pulled away, holding Sirius out at arm’s length.

He looked as though he was about to say something else, but then his eyes traced down the lines of Sirius’ naked body and his eyes stopped at Sirius’ cock, already stiffening again despite having come only moments earlier. Sirius took in the shift in Remus’ demeanour. A spark of terror-mingled delight rushed through his spine, as Remus cocked an eyebrow and deftly slipped the tie from around his neck in a single graceful manoeuvre, his smile curving into a smirk as Sirius felt his own expression fall slack.

“Oh dear, Lord Black,” He chided, as he began loosening his belt, keeping his eyes locked on Sirius’ as piece by piece he removed his own clothes. “So impatient. Can’t even wait for me to cook you a nice meal before you have your way, hm?”

Sirius’ face burned, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away, desperate to drink in every last image and fuse it beneath his eyelids. He shook his head minutely at Remus’ not-quite-question.

“We were supposed to talk. I was going to cook you dinner and tell you all the lovely things you need to hear, but you’re so desperate, sweetheart. Look at you, practically drooling.”

“I want… Remus, I want-”

“I know what you want, sweetheart. I’m going to give you what you need.” As he finished undressing himself, Remus pressed towards Sirius, his fingers gripping tightly at Sirius’ waist.

Then he was guiding them back through the shop until Sirius’ exposed back was pressed up against the cool glass of one of the mirrors. Sirius wound his arms around Remus’ neck, his mouth falling open to meet Remus as he leant in for a churning kiss. Unrelenting in his pursuit to taste his mouth, he slid a hand up to Sirius’ jaw and tilting his head back ever so slightly for better access. A sound drifted between their mouths and it took a second for Sirius to register that it was his own moan spilling into Remus’ open mouth. Sirius reached up to sink his fingers into golden-brown curls and Remus responded with his own moan, nudging Sirius’ legs apart, making room to press his bare thigh against Sirius’ rapidly hardening cock.

“So hard for me already, darling.” Remus taunted as his lips ghosted over Sirius’ mouth between drawn out kisses. “So beautiful.”

“Always for you, Moony.” Sirius stuttered, as Remus shifted his thigh, increasing the pressure and making his own hard length push against Sirius’ hip. Sirius loosened his grip around Remus’ neck, reaching down to take hold of the hot, heavy cock by his side, giving it a few long, loose strokes. Remus gave a staggered groan into his mouth.

“So perfect for me, sweetheart, so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Sirius nodded unable to choke out a reply as Remus’ hands wandered over his chest, rolling his sensitive nipples between his fingers. “What are you, Lord Black?” He demanded, whispering over Sirius’ skin as his lips glided along his jaw, stopping to suck another dark bruise into his neck.

“I’m your needy little whore, Moony.” Sirius stuttered out, arching his back off the glass mirror to press his whole body against Remus, setting his skin aflame at the contact.

“You’re my perfect, lovely whore, Sirius.” Remus whispered and Sirius shuddered, blushing bodily at the praise. “I love you.”

“M-me too, Remus, I-”

“Do you believe me now darling? Do you see how much I love you?” Remus began rocking imperceptibly in Sirius’ hand, his leaking tip nudging into the soft dip of Sirius’ hip, as he rubbed his leg harshly against the underside of Sirius’ cock, spilling a dribble of precome over Remus’ thigh.

“Love you Moony.” Sirius groaned.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” Remus growled, and then removed Sirius’ hand from around his own cock. Remus grabbed a handful of Sirius’ arse, pulling his leg up around his hip so that their cocks lined up. Sirius bucked into the contact, releasing a loud gasp to the ceiling, as Remus tilted his head up, pushing him back against the mirror until Sirius’ hair splayed against the glass, and pressed insistent, hungry kisses along the line of his throat.

“Want you Remus, please.” Sirius begged, clutching helplessly at Remus’ chest, sinking his fingertips into Remus’ skin, while Remus continued to thrust their hips together in a dirty, clumsy grind.

“You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart. But you still don’t see it, do you?” Was Remus’ breathless reply, in-between drawn-out kisses as his lips continued to trace every inch of skin he could reach with their bodies pressed together. “I’m just going to have to show you.”

“Remus, Moony, please…” He moaned into Remus’ open mouth, writhing at the pressure already threatening to burst again as he edged closer and closer to his climax. “Love- nnggh, I love you. I love you.”

“Such a sweet talker when you want something.” Remus snorted, and then pulled away, leaving a sudden flush of cold air where their bodies had been wrapped together. Grabbing hold of Sirius’ cock with a rough grip, his smirk glinted, holding Sirius’ gaze as he watched him fall apart all over again under his touch. “Come for me, love.”

“Remus, Remus I- oh fuck!” Sirius shouted, shutting his eyes tight as Remus tore another orgasm from between his limbs, come shooting over Remus’ bare stomach and thick, swollen cock. Sirius almost collapsed against the mirror, but Remus caught hold of his hips, keeping him pressed up against the cool glass, as he dropped to his knees in front of Sirius. In one swift movement, he took Sirius’ deflated cock in his mouth.

“Remus, p-please, ah- it’s too much-ah, ah!”

“Colour?”

“G-green, oh fuck!”

“Then be quiet sweetheart. Unless you’re using your safe words, I don’t want to hear anything else from you right now.” Sirius squirmed at the over-stimulation, biting his lip to keep from crying out, but Remus was unrelenting, his mouth moving incessantly over Sirius, tongue wrapping around his cock, sucking and pulling painfully as it twitched in Remus’ mouth.

Once Sirius was hard again, panting heavily from the violent jolts of sensation, Remus rose to his feet. He stared at Sirius with an admiring gaze, and Sirius felt himself flush deeply at the appraising way his eyes ran over his still-trembling body.

“I’m sorry, Remus I- we can talk now.” He pleaded through gasps as he fought to catch his breath from the onslaught he had endured.

“Oh can we now?” Remus laughed through a mocking smirk, licking a smear of Sirius’ come from around his lips. Sirius felt his eyes glaze over at the subtle movement. “No, darling, I’ve got a better idea. Turn around and lean forwards, hands against the mirror.”

“Remus-”

“You didn’t want to talk, remember? You asked how I could possibly love you and then got too impatient to hear my answer, so I’m going to have to get the message through to you another way.” Remus warned in a low threat, baring his teeth in a predatorial grin. A shudder rippled through Sirius from head to toe. “Now, turn around, hands against the mirror.”

Sirius did as he was told, stretching his hands out in front of him to lean against the partition, shuffling his legs apart. Remus regarded him coolly, eyes slowly working up and down his naked figure, scooping a long, low breath into his lungs before meeting Sirius’ eyes. Sirius waited, breathless and exposed, lost in the intensity of Remus’ reflection.

“Suits you.”

Then he was crowding behind Sirius, pressing his hard cock against the soft flesh of Sirius’ arse. His gaze swept once more up and down Sirius’ body, his lips curving into a look of hunger. Sirius saw himself flush in the mirror under Remus’ burning gaze.

“Remus, what are you-” Sirius was cut off by his own shuddering moan when Remus took hold of Sirius’ erection, running a hand along his length in slow, decadent strokes.

“You know it was almost exactly twelve months ago you first came in here.” Remus murmured, grazing his lips against Sirius’ ear, his hand continuing in torturous movements along Sirius’ shaft as he spoke. “And for the record, I thought you looked unfairly fuckable even in that awful grey suit you were wearing.”

“It was a comfy suit.” Sirius barely managed to protest.

“Sweetheart, you could barely see your arse in that thing, and that will always be a crime in my books.”

Sirius snorted, chewing his cheek to reign in the smile. But then Sirius caught the reflection of Remus’ eyes as all the teasing melted away, leaving a stark expression of sincerity.

“I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight, but I knew I was a lost cause the minute you walked into my shop.” Remus’ murmured confession fell close to his ear. “The second I saw you I knew I was going to fall in love with you, one way or another.”

“Remus…”

“Sirius, when I look at you, you know what I see?”

“What?” Sirius asked, hushed. He was trapped in Remus’ heated gaze. Remus leaned forward a little to scatter soft closed-mouth kisses along the column of Sirius’ neck as he spoke, never breaking eye contact.

“I see someone gorgeous, yes. But I also see someone brave who would do anything for the people he cares about. I see someone brilliant who never stops trying no matter how hard things get. I see someone full of passion and conviction for the things he believes in. I see someone who has endured more than anyone should and who deserves more love than I could ever hope to give. But fuck if I’m not going to love you with my whole heart, Sirius.”

“Remus-” Sirius started, turning back to look at him, but Remus stopped him.

“Keep facing forward. I want you to watch yourself.” Remus instructed, “Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Sirius nodded mutely, prompting the slightest smirk from Remus’ darkened expression of lust. Remus raised an expectant eyebrow, trailing the fingers of his empty hand along Sirius’ waist, his light barely-there touches tickling over the dark line of hair below his navel.

“I asked you a question, Lord Black.”

“Yes, Moony.” Sirius gasped and tilted his head back at the unexpected shock of pleasure, as Remus’ hand tightened in a punishing squeeze around his cock.

“Eyes forward, darling.” Sirius returned his eyes obediently towards his own reflection, watching his own eyes flutter, his chest rise in a hitching breath, and his mouth fall slack when Remus’ other hand rose to stroke slowly across his chest, fingers grazing his roused nipples. Every sensation, every sound was haunted by the flaring gaze of dark mahogany eyes in his periphery. He felt Remus’ smirk against his skin, as he bent to kiss his shoulder, the back of his neck, along his throat. He watched how, even as his silver eyes shadowed over with need, something sharp and desperate glinted out from his eyes in the dimly lit atelier.

“You’re so sensitive here, love.” Remus whispered, the heat unfurling pink into Sirius’ cheeks as Remus paused to roll the sensitive nubs between his fingers, his other hand continuing to slide over Sirius’ aching cock. “Such lovely reactions when I’m barely even touching you.”

Sirius felt the heat of Remus’ erection pressing up against his hip, but Remus did nothing to ease the pressure on his own arousal, entirely dedicated to drawing out every slight twitch of movement, every hint of desperation in Sirius’ expression. As he slowly rolled his hand over Sirius’ cock, he took time to point out each revealing sign of pleasure that flickered across his exposed features and trembling limbs.

“Such a perfect blush. So gorgeous, sweetheart. and that look in your eyes, darling… I wish I could paint you like this. Wish I could keep you like this for hours while I sketched out every beautiful expression you’re making.”

“Remus…” Sirius whined lightly, then his teeth caught on his bottom lip, catching a moan as Remus tightened his fist minutely where he was still stroking in decadent, leisurely movements. “Please, I need…”

“Come whenever you want, Lord Black, but I’m not stopping until you see what I see.” Sirius gasped as Remus’ hand quickened its paced, his nimble fingers working expertly at the outline of his cock, gliding over his balls, and running teasingly against the damp tip. Sirius gave a low unchained growl, but held back his release, as Remus began to rut against his hip. Reaching behind him, Sirius took hold of Remus’ erection, and began to return his touches, smearing the precome that had amassed at Remus’ leaking tip, using it to lubricate his rough, movements, a little clumsy from the awkward angle. Their eyes connected in the mirror and Sirius watched as the brown receded from Remus’ expanding pupils at his touch. Despite his earlier instructions, he turned Sirius back to face him and sunk them into a deep, consuming kiss. Then Sirius was being turned back towards the mirror again.

There was a moment of silent shuffling behind him, and then Sirius gave another sharp gasp when he felt the cold press of Remus’ lubricated finger at his rim. Bent forward against the mirror, Sirius’ breath fogged up the glass, but not enough to disguise the silver-blue eyes staring back at him. Remus smirked at Sirius’ slack expression, as he swirled teasingly around the rim, before lightly pressing in.

Are you still watching yourself, darling?”

“Mhm,” Sirius hummed his reply through pursed lips, focused entirely on the tight stretch as Remus entered up to his knuckle and soon after began to ease in a second finger. His vision began to fuzz at the edges and even with his eyes focused on himself in the mirror, he registered little beyond the intense feeling of having Remus back inside him. He gave another loud groan as Remus pressed against his ring, pushing two fingers knuckle deep inside him, his hand still running over Sirius’ cock, valiantly fighting towards his next orgasm, despite having come twice already. Then Remus began to thrust his fingers, and Sirius gave a deep groan of pleasure.

“Oh god,” He moaned. “More, please, Remus. Feels so good… I- I love your fingers, love you.”

“Mmh, darling, such a sweet mouth you have.” Remus thrust into Sirius several more times in rough, inelegant movements, but it didn’t matter. Sirius was a staggering mess, clenching needily around whatever Remus would give him, watching his own blushing reflection fade in and out of focus. When he hit Sirius’ prostate with the tips of his fingers, Sirius came against the mirror. Remus let him have a moment’s relief this time, but kept his fingers inside Sirius, waiting for the aftershocks to subside before he resumed thrusting into Sirius’ tight walls. In no time at all, Sirius was hard again.

All of a sudden the warmth and fullness vanished as he withdrew his fingers. Then Remus’ throbbing erection was pressing insistently at the crevice of Sirius’ arse. He rocked back and forth slowly, his eyes never leaving Sirius’ face as he did so. Sirius watched as his own expression of desire grew, his eyebrows knitting together, raised in desperation at the not quite there touches of Remus’ wandering hands, gliding over his thighs, over his belly, over his chest, returning to hold his cock, still dripping with his own come.

“Think you can manage to be good while I fuck you, Lord Black?” Remus whispered the threatening promise, returning to slow, gentle strokes around Sirius’ cock. “Remember, I want you to see yourself.”

“Love you, Remus,” Sirius mumbled, and Remus’ eyes snapped up to meet his from where they’d be focused on positioning himself to line up with Sirius’ hole.

“Oh Sirius, I love you too, so much.” He murmured and Sirius felt the warmth flooding his chest, filling every vacant cavity, reaching the furthest corners and filling them with spreading warmth. “So good for me, darling. Always.”

“Please…” Sirius moaned, watching in awe as his lips moved without his permission, spouting filthy words that burned his cheeks and tinged Remus’ expression with dark desire. “Please fuck me Remus. Want you inside me, want you to fill me up with your cock, want you to fuck me ‘til you come inside me.”

“Fuck Sirius, anything you want sweetheart.” Remus groaned, and without a moment’s more hesitation, his thick cock was pressing insistently at the tight muscles at Sirius’ entrance, pushing inside inch by inch until he was buried deep inside Sirius, chest pressed up against Sirius’ arching back, their combined weight pushing Sirius closer to the mirror until all he could see was silver eyes staring back at him in wide-eyed pleasure. Then Remus began to move, and it was all Sirius could do to keep his eyes open as Remus gave a deep guttural moan behind him, trailing hot and heavy hands over every inch of Sirius’ skin, setting it alight as he filled Sirius again and again with his cock.

“Nnggh, oh fuck Remus.” Sirius groaned, his words casting a fog as his warm breath condensed against the cold mirror.

“So good, sweetheart, you feel so good.” Remus gasped behind him in response, where he was grinding his hips close to Sirius’ arse, pressing insistently at that deep, pleasurable knot inside that had Sirius slurring moans and garbled words. “So fucking good for me.”

Remus pulled out and slammed into him with force, his other hand reaching around to grip Sirius’ cock, matching his strokes to the speed of his thrusts. They moved faster, Sirius arching back to meet Remus’ hips slamming into him, then bucking forward into his rough grip. Sirius didn’t need to look up at Remus to know the expression of pure desire that would be burning in his gaze, to know the way his teeth would be pulling up at his bottom lip, to know the pink blush dusting his cheeks and the glazed-over expression of want. Sirius knew the faces that accompanied every noise Remus made, and now he saw them all reflected back at him in his own expression. “I love you,” he murmured through the blurry haze of sweat and heat. “I love you, I love you. Fuck, Moony, I love you so much.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he heard moaned in response, close to his ear, and then trails of kisses over his neck and shoulder, until Sirius was reaching back, tugging at Remus’ hair to pull him forward into a clumsy clash of mouths, tongues and teeth.

“I’m close…” He breathed raggedly into Remus’ mouth when their lips parted again.

“Me too, sweetheart,” Remus panted back. “You feel so good… I- oh fuck darling, I love you.”

Sirius tried to respond, but could only nod as the air was knocked from his lungs by a particularly forceful thrust and he fell forwards back against the mirror. Remus’ thrusts picked up speed, one around his waist, the other squeezing in tight, skilful strokes around his cock. Sirius could feel Remus throbbing inside him, close to his own release, and clenched purposefully, loving the way Remus’ firm, hard cock filled him deeper and deeper and the slurred stream of curses that followed. Remus gave one final thrust, clenching tightly over Sirius’ erection, and Sirius gasped at the sudden stimulation, slamming his fist against the mirror as Remus came inside him. At the impact, a thin crack split across the glass in a glistening web and as Remus worked him up towards his orgasm, catching his own wrecked expression in the mirror, he finally saw it.

He saw someone loved, who loved back with his whole heart. He saw someone strong who fought with every fibre to protect his family. He saw someone beautiful and brilliant and brave. He finally saw himself as Remus saw him, dressed only in mahogany eyes.

Chapter Text

Sirius woke to warm arms wrapped around him. He nuzzled back against Remus’ bare chest, feeling the arms wrap closer still. Through threadbare teal curtains seeped the wintry quiet of the unlit early morning. The room was cold enough that the windows were glazed over with condensation and Remus’ gentle snores formed little clouds in the space above them. It had been cold all winter, since Remus had so far refused to let Sirius pay to get central heating installed. But the chill didn’t reach Sirius where he was folded between decadent bedding – the only thing besides his suits that he’d brought with him when he moved out of Godric Hall – and the safety of Remus’ hold. Instead, he felt the heat rising up from his navel to his chest, Remus’ snuffling breaths drawing shallower, as he stirred awake.

Other parts of him were stirring too, Sirius realised, nestling himself deeper into Remus and feeling a hard line pressing up against his back. Remus gave a husky, muted groan as his hips rocked forwards ever so slightly to chase clumsy pressure against Sirius. Sirius began his own gentle movements, arching his spine so that his arse curved to meet the firm protrusion tenting beneath Remus’ pyjamas. Remus’ drowsy moans grew louder, rumbling in his chest so that Sirius could feel the vibrations chasing flickers of excitement down his spine, which only intensified when Remus began working warm-breathed kisses from his shoulder up to his neck where he placed a gentle bite. Sirius rocked back into Remus with more intent, rolling his hips in slow, firm movements to push back against the heat pressing up against him as he felt Remus grow harder and more impatient at every slight provocation. The soft flesh of Sirius’ arse dipped beneath the press of Remus’ erection each time his hips rocked back further to meet Remus’ own clumsy grind until Remus’ kisses were replaced by incoherent stumbling slurs of praises and curses mumbled pleadingly into Sirius’ hair, while desperate fingers clutched at his waist.

One of the arms wrapped around him wound its way down Sirius’ stomach, venturing beneath the line of his pants, light touches tickling teasingly barely above where Sirius’ own cock was already responding to the breathy noises coming from behind. Then, just as Sirius was about to beg for relief, a firm hand wrapped around him. As Sirius continued rocking his hips against Remus’ erection, his own thickening cock rutted into the tight grip, his head growing light with the dizzying sensation of having those long and limber fingers stroking over his length. As the two continued to chase their growing pleasure in each other’s arms, Remus’ free hand roamed searchingly beneath Sirius’ pyjama shirt, stroking caresses in lines over his ribs, fingers scratching through the hairs on his chest and brushing carelessly over the nipples, all the while Remus’ hip movements grew more insistent with each passing moment. Sirius let out a low moan when his tip dipped beneath the ring of Remus’ fingers, nudging himself into Remus’ palm and inadvertently bucking his hips to meet Remus with a particularly forceful thrust. Remus gasped in response, warm breath tickling at the back of Sirius’ neck and swiftly followed by several urgent kisses scattered against the top of Sirius’ spine.

Sirius continued to moan between the sensations of the firm grasp around his cock and Remus lips licking hotly at his skin, and Remus came alive at the sound of Sirius’ pleasure. Without warning, his hand abandoned Sirius’ cock to tug impatiently at the underwear separating their skin. Then his hard cock was back to nudging into Sirius’ backside, rubbing and pushing crudely into the dip between Sirius’ cheeks. His thick leaking cock continued to rub between the cleft of his arse, occasionally slipping to tease at his hole, still aching from the night before, still open and waiting to be filled up all over again. But Remus didn’t push inside, simply kept rutting against Sirius, his hands running over Sirius’ thighs, between his legs, over his torso, everywhere except his aching hard-on, until Sirius whined through his husky morning voice, and Remus – apparently feeling more obliging than usual – returned to wrap his hand around Sirius’ erection.

Remus had barely given him three long, firm strokes, before they were interrupted by a loud harsh bell piercing through their lusty morning daze. Remus froze, but kept his hands on Sirius, who groaned and flopped over onto his back. Sirius glared at the clock at his bedside, noting that it was barely seven o’clock, and then glared some more at the phone that kept ringing. He had been the one to insist, upon moving in with Remus to that poky falling-apart flat, that they install a phone in the bedroom, accustomed as he was to being able to make and receive calls from the comfort of his bed. Remus had fought him on it, insisting that he didn’t want business calls intruding on their private sanctuary, but Sirius had eventually won over by reminding him of a certain tailor who answered five a.m. calls in case of ‘suit emergencies’, and that surely it was better to do so from the comfort of his own bed rather than having to drag himself all the way to the kitchen.

“You gonna get that?” Remus murmured, nuzzling chaste kisses against Sirius’ shoulder, the warmth spreading from his lips all the way to some warm bundle knotting itself beneath Sirius’ chest. There was an undeniable smugness in Remus’ husky tease, but even as Sirius began to sorely regret his past stubbornness, he refused to give Remus the satisfaction of being right. Sirius groaned a huff, before eventually reaching up to tug the phone from its cradle.

“What?” He snapped, the moodiness in his voice came out groggy and thick with sleep.

“Is that any way to greet your oldest friend?”

“James, this had better be good.” He said, barely hiding a gasp as Remus’ hand, still wrapped around his cock began moving again. Damping the receiver against himself, he glared at Remus, who was now kissing down his neck, over his shoulder and along his chest dangerously close to where he was clutching the phone. “Remus, I’m on the phone!” He hissed.

“So tell me to stop.” Remus murmured into Sirius’ waist, “You know your safe words.”

“Remus…” Sirius pleaded, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say more.

Remus didn’t answer with words, but kept kissing lower and lower, until his mouth met his still-moving hand, and his eyes flashed with mischief when his lips wrapped around the tip of Sirius’ cock. Sirius moaned loudly, forgetting the phone still clasped by his shoulder, and then he heard the sound of James’ anxious voice floating up from the receiver.

“Sirius, you still there?”

“Yes I’m- m’here James,” Sirius barely stuttered out, lifting the phone to his ear again, as Remus sank his mouth over the length of Sirius’ cock, his tongue doing something unholy in tandem with the bobbing movements of his head, all the while those teasing eyes watched Sirius’ contorted expression.

“So, we found Regulus somewhere to live.”

“G-good, that’s good- ah!” Sirius burst out, when his cock hit the back of Remus’ throat.

Remus withdrew completely, casting an almost polite smile of innocence up at Sirius, who batted him on the shoulder, while James asked him again if everything was alright. But Remus didn’t give him a chance to answer, sinking his lips back over Sirius’ cock with one swift movement and then bobbing his head with such avid enthusiasm that Sirius could barely remember how to form words.

“M’fine, sorry, bumped my- uh, mm-my leg. What- oh, fuck!” Remus swirled his tongue over Sirius’ tip, lapping up the free-flowing precome as it leaked wantonly between his thighs, smirking all the while as Sirius writhed under the intense pleasure. Sirius clamped a hand over his mouth when Remus lowered his mouth to lap at Sirius’ balls, sucking them between his lips, and rolling them over his tongue. “Sorry James, w-what were you saying?”

“Um… I was saying we found Regulus a place.” James continued, his voice steeped in suspicion, but he persevered nonetheless. “When do you think you might have time to come look everything over? Sirius are you even listening to me?”

“Y-yes. M’here.” Sirius gritted out from beneath his hand, but anything else James was saying was lost, as Remus once again put his lips around his cock, and then, curling his tongue in a devilish manoeuvre, lowered himself all the way over Sirius until it hit the back of his throat, apparently intent on gagging himself on Sirius’ cock. “Sorry Prongs, I- I’ll have to call you back!” Sirius shouted down the receiver and then slammed it into the wall, not bothering to check if it had landed in the cradled before he was pulling Remus off his cock and up towards him to press a desperate open-mouth kiss to his lips, moaning at the taste of himself on Remus’ tongue.

“That was very rude, hanging up on James like that,” Remus chastised his voice emerging low from his slow, smug smirk, as he returned to giving Sirius’ cock long lazy strokes with his hand.

“Fuck James.”

“I’d rather fuck you.” Remus murmured against his ear, before sucking the lobe between his teeth with a light nibble. Sirius shivered.

“Oh god, yes please.” And before he could form another thought, he was being flipped onto his front. Remus grabbed a pillow to wedge beneath his hips, propping him up, and immediately turned his attention to stretching Sirius open on his fingers and tongue. The prep was slightly unnecessary since he was still loose from their previous night’s activities. Still a little sore, too.

“Does it hurt?” Remus asked from between Sirius’ thighs, noticing Sirius’ wince.

“In a good way.” Sirius reassured him, through a needy groan, “Want to feel you.”

“Your wish is my command, Lord Black.” Sirius could hear the grin in Remus’ voice, as he shuffled upright behind Sirius, nudging his cock gently at Sirius’ rim, before sinking in slow and gentle, filling him up with that tantalising burning stretch.

“Mmh, Remus, please move,” Sirius canted his hips back after a moment of readjusting to the pressure, and Remus gave Sirius a light smack against his inner thigh, chastising his movements. Remus let his hand rest there for a moment, his hand rising smoothly to massage the swell of Sirius’ arse, as he continued to edge his cock inside Sirius. Then Remus took a firm hold of the fleshy mound, sinking his thumb into the crease where Sirius’ arse met his thigh as he sunk the final inch, burying himself deep until his tip nudge against Sirius’ prostate.

“I’m going to go slow, don’t want to hurt you too much.”

“Remus…” Sirius groaned, pleading, but Remus couldn’t be convinced, and then he was grinding his hips against Sirius in slow, gentle movements. It was a heady sensation of fullness, Remus gliding between his walls, keeping his entrance stretched around the base of his cock, repeatedly brushing over his prostate, that sensation fullness never lessening as Remus continued to grind his hips against Sirius, thighs flush either side of his arse, while his hands pressing indents into Sirius’ skin. Sirius rolled his hips minutely to meet Remus’ slow, lazy thrusts, and gasped deeply at the drag of his own swollen cock against the pillow beneath him.

“Sirius, you feel so good, darling.” Remus moaned, arching over Sirius’ back, his forehead falling against Sirius’ shoulder. “Fuck if I had my way, I’d stay inside you like this forever.” And with another short roll of his hips, Remus nudged against his prostate again, eliciting another garbled moan from the both of them, as Sirius’ hole fluttered around the thick cock filling him up in response.

“God, yes please. Want you in me all the time, Moony.”

“Mmh, I’m sure we could work something out. Move for me, darling.” Sirius obliged happily, lifting his hips back to meet Remus’ until they found a steady rhythm of flesh slapping flesh and Remus groaning breathily above him. Remus reached his hand around to grip Sirius’ cock, adding the much-needed pressure that the silky surface of the pillow hadn’t been able to satisfy, and Sirius gave a matching low, groan. Remus reached his free hand up to the pillow beside Sirius’ head, until his body was almost entirely covering Sirius’ own, and Sirius’ hand came up to grasp it, their fingers knotting together as Remus abandoned restraint and let his hips thrust into Sirius fast and deep, the weight of his body pressing Sirius into the mattress and Remus’ rough grasp with every thrust. Sirius clenched around Remus as he came, and rolling his hips with another heavy thrust, Remus fell forward, collapsing the last of his body’s weight onto Sirius, as he came deep inside with a satisfied sigh.

“I think that might be my favourite way to wake up.” Sirius mumbled from where his lips were muffled against the pillows.

“Hm, do that a lot do you?”

“Only as much as you do.” Sirius huffed a laugh, and wriggled until Remus braced himself up, letting him turn over, before again trapping Sirius underneath him, sealing the heat between their naked limbs tangled together. Remus dragged a few lazy kisses over Sirius’ jaw, before capturing his mouth in a deep kiss. “I love you.”

Sirius sighed happily, rolling onto his side and pulling Remus with him into his arms. Remus chuckled shyly into Sirius’ chest, nuzzling at the dark fuzz of hair with small, affectionate kisses.

“How did I manage to find someone as sweet as you?” Remus mused, turning twinkling brown eyes up to face Sirius. “God, but you’re perfect cariad.”

“Says you.” Sirius snorted, and to his surprise Remus was perking up again with interest, his already half-hard erection rubbing lightly against Sirius’ still sensitive cock. “Hmm, I see we’re not done yet.”

“Mm… what else have you got planned for today?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Sirius answered in a rush of breath, pulling Remus in close for another messy kiss.

~~~

Sirius lay sprawled on his back, Remus’ face hovering above him where they met in the middle of the mattress, feeding each other berries that had materialised from the kitchen sometime after they had worn each other out. Remus was careful to catch any drips of the sugary sweet juice in the saucer to avoid getting any on the freshly rumpled bedding. Sirius wasn’t fussed really, but Remus insisted that it simply wouldn’t do to have pink stains ruining those heavenly silk sheets: “Only with me for my thread count”, “mhm and the occasional blowie”. It was still early, and a grey frosted haze dimly lit the room through the half-drawn curtains, while the pair exchanged lazy whispers and morning breath kisses. Remus occasionally paused to shower Sirius’ whole face with attention and Sirius, huffing a laugh at the tickling sensation of Remus’ slightly outgrown whiskers, reached up in return, sinking his fingers into sandy brown hair to pull him closer. Neither were sure how long had passed when, after having dozed off a little, Sirius opened his eyes to find he was staring straight into melting chocolate, alight with hungry admiration. Remus unfolded an arm from underneath his chest where he was propped up on his front, dangling a hand to stroke light caresses over Sirius’ creased brow with those clever fingers of his.

Sirius found himself drifting off again beneath Remus’ lingering gaze and dancing fingers, his mind churning with thoughts of how only a few short months ago he had thought this life impossible. How only little more than a year ago, he wouldn’t have even been able to conceive of falling in love with his tailor and moving into a cramped little flat in rural Wales. All the paths he thought his life might have taken, some dark, some dim, very few filled with any kind of light, and here he was, his future glowing as bright as the sun-struck snow outside.

“Can I tell you something, Remus?” His voice, soft and hesitant, pierced the cosy silence dampening the room.

“Always, Sirius.” The gentle touches never faltered.

“I…” Sirius hesitated. Little by little, opening up to Remus had become easier, but even then the vulnerability felt so unnatural, so dangerous, that it took him a moment to remember what it meant to be with Remus, to be safe. “I used to feel like everything I did was never quite enough, like no matter how much I tried it was futile, so I think at some point I gave up. I thought then that once I became the Lord Black, after I’d stopped being the heir, and finally became everything my parents had planned that I would get that feeling like… like I was done. Like I’d have reached the goal, won the prize, completed my life’s work.”

“At twenty-seven?”

“What can I say? Aristocracy is a simple career; you’ve pretty much done all the work you’ll ever have to do by the time you’re born.”

Remus snorted, leaning down to pepper kisses against Sirius’ nose.

“For a while after Orion died, everything was sort of the same. I felt a bit empty, I guess, but I thought that was maybe my way of grieving. Like maybe, some small part of me actually did miss him. And then it got bigger and bigger, and nothing made sense except-” Sirius cut himself off, afraid of saying too much.

“Except?” Remus murmured, his voice patient and gentle, letting Sirius know it was all okay, that he was never too much, that he was always enough. Sirius closed his eyes.

“Except you.” Remus did still then, until Sirius tugged at his dangling fingers, reminding him to continue tracing lines on his forehead. “Except you… and your suits. All I know is that first time I wore that suit you made me, I felt full. I felt like I could control the chaos, like everything wasn’t pushing in on me for once. It’s… it’s like you knew what was missing from me the whole time.”

“Sirius, nothing’s missing from you. Nothing has ever been missing. You’re already perfect.” Sirius’ eyes rolled open to fix Remus with a disbelieving stare. “Alright, mostly perfect. Wouldn’t hurt you to wash up a dish every now and then.”

Sirius was suddenly mortified, and the shock was apparently evident given the way Remus’ chuckle fell in soft whispers onto Sirius’ cheeks.

“What, did you think they magicked themselves clean and back into the cupboards every time?” Remus teased, “Not all of us have a house full of staff, sweetheart.”

“I suppose I didn’t think.”

“Oh, to be a prince and never have to think of life’s trivialities.”

“I’m a duke, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Suppose I ought to get used to living like a commoner,” he gave a mocking sigh earning a light tap on the stomach from Remus.

“Well, I’ll certainly miss calling you Lord Black.”

“Oh, you can call me anything you like, Moony.” Sirius grinned lasciviously.

“Mhm… alright. How about, you learn to do the dishes, and I’ll call you Lord Black when you’ve been a good boy? It’ll be our own special reward system.”

“But doing dishes is so unlordly, Remus.” Sirius pouted, earning a soft peck on the lips, which instantly brought back his smile.

“Suppose I’ll have to come up with something else, then.” Remus sighed dramatically, finally flipping onto his back, arching his head into the nook of Sirius’ shoulder, as he reached up to tangle their fingers together. Sirius brought their joined hands to rest on his chest, turning to nuzzle into the curve of Remus’ throat returning his own gentle nips and kisses. Remus’ voice rumbled low against Sirius’ lips when he spoke, “Can’t have you sullying the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

“On second thoughts, sully away.” Sirius flipped onto his front, launching towards Remus with a wide grin and a clumsy kiss.

“Sirius?” Remus spoke through the laughter, though his smile was a little dampened by concern.

“Hm?” Sirius mumbled, as his lips traced along Remus’ jaw.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

“Thank you for letting me.” Sirius mumbled, drawing back a little, suddenly feeling shy of the man who had loved him through his best and worst for the better part of a year. But Remus’ smile only broadened into something coaxing and warm, as he pulled Sirius back into a deep kiss. Their bodies tumbled together on the mattress, spilling the little dish between them and flecking the bedsheets with splashes of pink, but they were both too preoccupied to care.

~~~

Despite his earlier assurances that his day was wide open for lazing about in their shared cocoon of bliss, Sirius did eventually have to get up and go about his Saturday. Though it was the weekend, he had a mountain of tasks to get through – some beginning to gather dust from the previous week, others already piling up for the week ahead.

After the overwhelming success of his maiden speech, which garnered several weeks of media coverage and an abundance of support from other corporations and charities who wanted to participate in the initiative, the work had only continued to grow. Sirius was more involved in the foundation than was maybe necessary, but despite the unending run of meetings, never-ending paperwork, and immeasurable demands on his time, the thought of handing any part of the project over to someone else made his skin itch as though they were attempting to pull his very being out from under it. The Black Foundation was a project of love, born from the tireless efforts of himself and his closest friends, and he’d be damned before he trusted anyone else to see it through. Besides which, he’d contracted Dorcas as a consultant, and even if he fought her at every opportunity – mostly when she tried to convince him to delegate or let her handle something – he was never really doing it alone.

For the time being, the Foundation was still small and could only afford to support Godric Hall’s conversion into a children’s home. If all went well and he managed to pull off his latest proposal to encourage more funding from some of the country’s largest corporations and other wealthy individuals, he could have several more homes up and running within the next five years. In the meantime, the excess Black properties and lands were being apportioned between various charities to be converted into homeless shelters, social housing, and domestic abuse refuges.

He would be presenting the latest budget estimations for these to the board of trustees on Thursday, by which time he also needed to have organised the licenses for the children’s home. Somewhere in between all that, he had to fit in his weekly therapy and group meetings, as well as attend event planning for the Christmas party he was throwing on behalf of the Foundation the following Saturday and prepare for the council inspections and child safety checks, both of which were taking place at Godric Hall while Minerva was busy getting her certifications. Worst of all, he still had to write his speech for the Christmas party. Remus had finished making his suit for the event weeks ago, so at the very least there were no fittings to squeeze in to his already piled up schedule. Then there was the other thing that Sirius was doing his best to avoid thinking about. Now, after calling back James with fewer distractions and going over the details of Regulus’ house move, he had to include furniture shopping for Regulus’ new flat in his list of unending to-dos.

“I can go help James and Reg. You stay here and get on with that speech you’ve been putting off.” Remus offered from the table where he was sipping on a perfectly brewed cup of tea that Sirius had made for him, flicking through some of his recent designs.

“Thank you, but it’s fine. I’ll do the speech when I’m back this evening. I promise,” He insisted, poking his tongue out at Remus’ sceptical eyebrow. “Besides, I want to look over Regulus’ contract before he signs it.”

Remus hummed, a little unconvinced, as he sat up to receive the kiss Sirius planted on his forehead before sitting down with his own mug of tea to look over the portfolio he was putting together for the properties being donated. Remus’ sketches, templates, and scrawled charts of measurements were sprawled across the kitchen table alongside Sirius’ own mess of contracts and the various other paperwork involved in creating and maintaining a not-for-profit organisation, where they had become used to spending their evenings and most weekends working away in companionable silence.

The two men had fallen into a pattern of making one another cups of tea and settling into long evenings of work spent comfortably nudging each other’s feet beneath the table as a quiet reminder that the other was there. Occasionally hands would reach across to thread fingers together when they weren’t immediately needed for work, and the hours would pass without either thinking to go to bed until the table was scattered with ringed tea-stains, or until the foot-nudging and hand-holding invariably devolved into teasing glances and heated looks – Sirius’ foot roaming a little too high up Remus’ calf, Remus’ fingers stroking a little too suggestively over Sirius’ palm.

“It’s so sexy when you get all lawyer-y.” Remus muttered, and Sirius glanced up from a contract he’d been defacing with various amendments to find brown eyes watching him with heated interest.

“Where were you while I was doing my law degree? You’d have been a much better motivator than Prongs bullying me into doing my dissertation.” Sirius turned back to his work with a small smile tucked between his lips, even as he huffed at the memory of James locking them both in his room until he’d completed his ten thousand words. It had been a gruelling night for both of them, and they’d not been able to look at each other properly for a whole week afterwards.

“I’m sure I could have thought of something fun to keep you motivated.”

“Hmm… like what, Moony?” Sirius widened into a grin, looking up from his papers to find Remus already watching him with bright eyes and a wicked smirk, swirls of steam curling up between them to fill the air with tea-scented heat. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, until Remus broke the stare with a snort, turning back to the design he’d been sketching.

“You’re insatiable.” Remus tutted though the smile never left his lips, “As much as I’d love to follow this lovely train of conversation to its undoubtedly fun conclusion, you have to leave soon to meet James and Reg, remember?”

“I hate James and Reg.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t, but I’d much rather be having fun with you.”

“Mm, maybe if you’re done quickly and get your speech all finished, there’ll still be time for a little bit of fun tonight, though I can’t imagine how you’ll still have the energy for it after this morning.” Remus murmured teasingly without taking his eyes off his work. Sirius stared at Remus fondly for a quiet moment, watching a lock of golden-brown hair fall over his eyes, as his expression returned to furrowed concentration, teeth poking out to nibble the corner of his still-smirking lips.

“Come with me.”

“You want me to come see Regulus’ new flat with you?” Remus asked, looking up in surprise.

“And come furniture shopping with us. None of us have ever had to move into a new place by ourselves before, we could use some of that Moony pragmatism.”

“I’m not sure my pragmatism will do any good against your spending habits. You and James are a lost cause, and I can’t imagine Regulus is much better.”

“Oi, we’re very capable of being sensible grown-ups too. Besides, we didn’t get to do the furniture thing as a couple. It’ll be fun.”

“You want me to help Regulus pick out furniture for his new flat so that we can play house for a bit?” Remus snorted, though Sirius couldn’t understand exactly what he was finding quite so funny. “Sounds very sensible and grown-up.”

“You know what, I take it back. You’d have bullied me worse than James,” Sirius grumbled, while Remus rolled his eyes and tugged Sirius’ hand from around his cup and pressing Sirius’ palm to his lips for a consolatory kiss. “You’re very mean, you know.”

“I love you, cariad.”

“Love you too.”

~~~

It was dark out by the time they left the shops, and they stepped out onto the snow-coated pavement, the harsh winter chill biting into their skin while thin flecks of snowfall fell around, only to be kicked up by the whipping cold wind. Sirius’ hands were red and chapped, though he wouldn’t admit it after stubbornly refusing to wear gloves despite Remus’ several reminders to wrap up warm. It wasn’t because he thought he wouldn’t be cold with the snow already layered thickly on the ground when they left the atelier in the early afternoon, nor did he have anything against wearing gloves. Sirius had a gorgeous pair of crimson silk gloves, lined with inky cuffs that matched perfectly with his favourite black fur coat.

“Cold?” Came the teasing voice behind his ear, as he waited out on the pavement for Regulus to finish paying and making his arrangements for the furniture to be delivered. James was hovering by the cashier, rummaging through the £1 sweets for charity to check if they had any jelly babies he could pick up for Lily, who always bemoaned the lack of her favourite sweets in Florence and would be coming over for a brief visit when the gallery closed for the holidays.

“Nope.” Sirius’ teeth rattled with his own violent shiver, his arms crossed over his chest bracing against the cold. As he’d hoped, the scratchy brown sleeve of Remus’ arm came to wrap around him, pulling him tightly into his warmth, while two mittened hands enveloped his own.

“You know, you don’t have to freeze yourself. You could just ask for what you want.” Remus chided, seeing right through his flimsy motives.

Sirius was still getting used to the idea of asking for what he wanted, what he really wanted – of even being allowed to want things. He knew well enough how to make simple demands, how to order about servants and employees, though this was a habit he had worked hard to break ever since little over a year ago when he’d been forced to swallow his pride and apologise to the generously forgiving man now wrapped around him. But asking for what he truly wanted was still a struggle, even after lengthy conversations with his therapist who did her best to convince him that wanting things for himself – wanting to be happy and loved – was not immoral or weak or whatever conditioning his mother had successfully branded into him. It was only made harder because he had rarely done anything so vulnerable as want someone the way he wanted Remus.

“I d-d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” His teeth clattered together as he shivered.

“You’re ridiculous, Lord Black.” Remus teased fondly, his arms tightening further, probably in an effort to keep Sirius warm, but perhaps also to try and squeeze the truth out of him.

“And what does that say about you.” Sirius retorted with equal affection in his petulant reply, and Remus’ surprised laugh echoed through his chest, spilling waves of warmth between the crevices of Sirius’ ribs in their close embrace.

“That I’ve got terrible taste in men?”

“Oi.” Came the weak grumble.

“That I’m even more ridiculous, then?” Remus offered as a compromise in a bid for peace, his breath puffing warmly around Sirius’ frozen ears. “Or it could just be that I’m so blinded by my love for you.”

“Mhm, nice save.”

“And because I love you,” Remus continued, “I would really rather you didn’t die of frostbite, so next time please wear gloves.”

Sirius gave a noncommittal hum and nestled back against Remus’ shoulder, tilting his head back to look up at moon overhead. Only then did he notice the collection of lights emblazoned against the dark night sky, arching from shop fronts and between lamp posts, the street spilling over with dazzling bright blurs of red and green, gold, silver and blue.

“It’s nearly Christmas.” He whispered in hushed surprise, then felt a squeeze where his cold hand was fitted into Remus’ gloved ones, clinging to his warmth. The wool of Remus’ gloves wasn’t as delicate as the material Sirius was used to in his own clothes, and the knitted fabric felt a little rough against his skin. Nothing like the sheer luxury of his own silk gloves, but somehow the lumpy texture made it that much better when Remus threaded their fingers together and placed their hands in Sirius’ pockets.

“What did you think you’ve been planning that Christmas party for?” Remus’ stubbled cheek came to rest against Sirius’ own, scratching roughly as he spoke, but Sirius didn’t mind the burn when Remus’ flushed cheeks warmed his skin like a fire.

“No, I know it’s Christmas,” He huffed, rolling his eyes when he glimpsed Remus’ amusement in his periphery. “I just… I’ve been so busy planning the event, getting everything set up for the Foundation, I didn’t realise. You know, normally I’d be going to a dozen social functions next week. Then to my mother’s the week after…”

Sirius drifted off, feeling an unusual twist in his throat – not sadness, exactly, but it wasn’t entirely the liberating sense of relief he’d expected to feel knowing that he wouldn’t have to return to those dreary halls with his spiteful cousins. That he’d never have to see any of his family again.

“It’s okay for you to miss them, you know.” Remus, perceptive as ever, muttered softly into the silence of Sirius’ abandoned thoughts.

“It feels so stupid. I used to dread going to those awful events. Apart from the Prewetts’, but they’re not even throwing one this year because of the wedding.”

“That’ll be something to look forward to.” Remus supplied carefully, waiting for Sirius to continue. It had been difficult, at times, Sirius working out how to communicate properly, Remus being patient while he learned. The last couple of months hadn’t been without its struggles, and though Sirius was past the worst of it, there were days where he still had the overwhelming urge to throw everything away for a sip of whiskey. The urge became less and less sharp each time, and he managed to talk to Remus or James or Dorcas or his therapist any time those feelings came. He had help this time, he was surrounded by love and support, by a family who only wanted the best for him. That should have been all that mattered, but with no small amount of guilt and in spite of all the love he now found surrounding him, he still wished he could have found it sooner, from the people who were meant to have loved him from the first.

“I never thought I’d miss Christmas at Grimmauld House. I won’t even have to see Bellatrix this year. No snide comments, no awful hours of silence, and Regulus will be at the Potters, so the only person I would have missed will be right there.”

“Sirius you spent every Christmas of your life in that house. Change is good, but that doesn’t make it easy.”

“I spent every Christmas drunk in that house.”

“It’s a difficult time of year for anyone to be sober.” Remus soothed, and Sirius was flooded with gratefulness for the man who never judged him, never made him feel small or unimportant when he struggled with his sobriety, never made him feel bad, or broken, or wrong.

“I really liked mulled wine,” Sirius whined – happy for a tangent out of his current spiral that he pocketed away for his next weekly therapy session – and giving into his childish petulance for a just a moment, soothed again by Remus’ chuckle in his ear.

“We’ll do mulled apple, how about that?”

“You’re too good for me.” Sirius sighed happily, when he felt Remus clench behind him. Shit.

“Don’t say that, Sirius.”

“I don’t mean it.”

“Don’t say it. Even as a joke. I won’t have you believe it even for a second. You’re perfect.”

“What about the dishes?”

“Fuck the dishes. You’ll never have to wash a single one. We’ll just buy new ones.”

“Now that’s ridiculous. You hate when I flaunt my wealth.”

“Well, I am ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“You are. Completely ridiculous. And absolutely perfect.” Sirius turned towards Remus, folding into a kiss, his whole body glowing with warmth, no longer aware of the howling cold around him. “I’ll wash the dishes, you make the mulled apple.”

Remus pecked another swift kiss against his lips. “Deal,” he whispered.

Sirius leaned in for another, deeper kiss, drinking the warmth from Remus’ lips, until Regulus and James emerged from the shop.

“You know mother always made a brilliant turkey.” Sirius said conversationally, breaking apart from Remus though he kept his right hand nestled in Remus’ gloved left hand, as the four of them made their way down the busy street back towards the station, a close-knit huddle parting the waves of people headed into town for the evening.

“You mean her cooks did.” Regulus corrected.

“Obviously. But I’d bet that the finest turkey in all of England on Christmas day was right there in Grimmauld House.”

“Reckon we drop the charges for a nice turkey?” Regulus sniggered, his humour always a little twisted. Sirius was relieved to have it back.

“It was more than just nice, Reg.” Sirius protested.

“Yes, actually, you’re absolutely right. Totally worth the years of psychological abuse and neglect. Not to mention the injuries.”

Sirius shrugged, and ignored the anxious looks that Remus and James were exchanging over the brothers’ heads.

“I can ask mum to make a turkey…” James offered hesitantly. Regulus just patted his arm in placating condescension and they walked on in silence.

“The final hearing’s next week. There may not even be a Christmas at Grimmauld House this year.” Sirius picked up the trail of conversation as James and Regulus walked ahead. He knew Remus already knew this. Remus had been following the case along with the rest of them, had been driving Sirius to the station at the crack of dawn for the other hearings, had been waiting on Sirius’ return, listening quietly on the drive home while Sirius ranted about every heinous assertion the defence attorney had spouted on behalf of the odious hag.

“Are you going?”

“I have to, don’t I.” It wasn’t a question. His mother was testifying and Regulus would be too. Sirius couldn’t leave his brother to face her alone. Not again.

“I know you said you didn’t want me there, but I can come if it will help.”

“It’s fine, you’ve got work and you don’t need-”

“Sirius. Don’t worry about what I need. What do you need?”

Sirius thought for a moment.

“I need it to be just me and Reg.” He decided.

“Okay, then I’ll be waiting at the station as usual.”

“Thank you, love.”

“Always, Sirius.”

“I hope she ends up in prison. She deserves it.”

“She deserves worse.” Remus muttered ruefully. It was one of the few times Sirius saw him truly angry, the way he seethed when they were talking about Walburga Black.

“Merry Christmas to us, I s’pose.” Sirius joked with a bitter snort. Remus clutched Sirius’ hand tighter in his own, the warmth of that simple gesture flooding his body to dispel even the bitterest cold winds whipping against his cheeks as drifts of snow began to scatter around them.

~~~

The results of the hearing were worse than they’d hoped, though in many ways better than expected. There had hardly been a moment where Sirius hadn’t secretly believed that his mother might walk away wholly unscathed.

From the first, the judge (though Sirius suspected Cygnus was pulling the strings) decided the abuse they had experienced in childhood was too historic and unsubstantiated to prove. Even then, it should have been a case of sixteen years to life imprisonment for the injuries inflicted on them in the past year alone. But neither had any witnesses to the actual assault, and Sirius hadn’t sought medical attention – hadn’t needed it, the defence had argued, if the alleged assault even took place. Then he sat in the courtroom and seethed, as he was dragged through the mud for his alcoholism and his well-known history of reckless behaviour. In the end, it all rested on their accounts of the night Regulus had turned up at the Potters’. Dr Pomfrey’s statement had ensured that Walburga was found guilty of grievous bodily harm, but her apparent remorse, her so-called ‘good character’ and no doubt piles of money traded behind the scenes by their uncle resulted in a far lighter sentencing than Sirius knew she deserved.

“Six years!” He exploded the moment the car door slammed behind him.

“Hi sweetheart,” Remus grimaced, squeezing Sirius’ knee, and waiting for any further eruptions before kicking the car into gear and driving off from the station in the direction of home. Sirius was silent most of the journey home, only recovering his temper enough to form words once they were nearly back at the familiar rising hedgerows in the fields surrounding Remus’ village.

“Six years, they gave her.” He spoke in a rueful mutter, glaring furiously at the passing scenery, “And Prewett reckons she’ll be out in four on ‘good behaviour’, which of course means my uncle will bribe whoever needs bribing for early release.”

“I’m sorry love.”

“There’s no justice.” He spat. Remus remained silent, which Sirius was grateful for, because there was nothing else to be said. Walburga had gotten away with it, most of it anyway. “I hope she never makes it to four years. I hope she rots in there. I do. I really do. I hate her. Remus, I hate her so much.”

Remus’ hand gave his knee a gentle squeeze, all the comfort he could give, Sirius’ tears splashing against his knuckles as they began to fall and didn’t stop.

Remus helped him up to the flat and into bed the minute they returned home. Sirius fell asleep sobbing bitterly into Remus’ chest while a soothing hand stroked through his hair.

~~~

By Saturday Sirius hadn’t managed to find the festive spirit for the party he was meant to be hosting. Everything was arranged and he had even managed to finish his speech with time to spare, but he was hardly in the mood to entertain hundreds of high-profile guests. He’d dragged himself through the board meeting on Thursday, thanks to Dorcas’ presence and the reminder that seeing the Foundation thrive was the best way to get back at Walburga. He’d wandered listlessly through the gaudily decorated rooms at Godric Hall, nodding mutely any time he was asked for final approval on the decoration for the party. He’d desperately craved a drink when he got home on Friday night, had almost stopped at an off-licence on his way, but somehow found the strength to call James instead.

“Get home to Remus,” He’d said, talking Sirius down all the way back to the station, “Get home and then see how you feel. You’ve been doing so well, Sirius. You’ve been so strong to get this far. Don’t let her take that from you.”

Sirius didn’t feel strong. He’d made it home and immediately picked a fight with Remus over something trivial he couldn’t even remember the next morning as he lay in bed wallowing in the cold and empty room. Remus hadn’t risen to the bait, but that had only made Sirius push harder.

“I can tell you’re upset Sirius, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone right now, but I’m not the person you should be angry at.” Remus had said, eyes rimmed red and Sirius could tell he was choking on his own anger when he’d murmured rigidly, “I think we should just go to bed.”

So of course Sirius had hardly slept and after finally drifting off he woke a few hours later just as it was growing light outside to find the bed next to him empty. He no longer wanted a drink, but every instinct was telling him to run. Despite this, he heard another, louder voice – maybe James, maybe Remus, maybe his therapist or some combination of all three – telling him to communicate.

“Hi sweetheart,” a soft voice greeted him when he finally emerged from the bedroom. Remus was sat at the kitchen table, sifting aimlessly through a magazine, though it was clear from his fraught expression that he hadn’t been taking in any of it. It was clear, too, from the dark circles beneath his eyes that he’d hardly slept either.

“Hi love,” Sirius answered, feeling his shame flood to the surface. “I’m sorry about last night. I never meant-”

“I know, darling.” Remus’ voice and words were gentle, but there was still a tightness in the lines of his face as he spoke. There was a stifling silence as Sirius stood uncertain by the bedroom, feeling heavy under the weight of Remus’ considering gaze. At last, Remus broke the silence. “Are you feeling better this morning?”

“I’m feeling like a royal arse, if that’s what you mean.”

Remus’ clenched jaw relaxed with the lightest huff of a chuckle, letting the magazine fall from his grip as he stood up to pour Sirius a mug of tea from the freshly-brewed kettle. “Yes, well. You were a bit of an arse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said, love. All’s forgiven.” After another brief pause, Remus asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about.” Sirius huffed, gratefully accepting the piping mug and the accompanying conciliatory peck on the lips that came with it. They returned to sitting at that old kitchen table, and Sirius reached a hand across, relief breathing through his muscles when Remus took it.

“Are you going to be okay today?”

“I’ll have to be, won’t I.”

“What would make it easier?”

“You make it easier. Just you, Remus. You’re perfect and I love you and I don’t know how I’d ever manage without you and I’m sorry to have ever let you doubt that for a second.”

Remus’ concern relaxed into an tender smile. “You’d manage just fine, love, but you don’t have to. I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

Sirius gave a grateful smile squeezing Remus’ hand, then took a deep sip of his tea as he focused on collecting a nebulous thought that had been skirting around his mind.

“I just-” But Sirius cut himself off, twisting his mouth into uncomfortable knots.

“Sirius?” When Sirius stayed quiet, Remus whispered softly, “You know I’m always on your side.”

“It’s… people keep telling me that the Foundation is the best way to get back at her, that the work I’m doing is my way of showing she doesn’t control me anymore. That if I give up now, on the Foundation, on my sobriety, I’m letting her win.”

Remus nodded his understanding, waiting for Sirius to continue.

“But I don’t want her to be part of this, I don’t want what I do now to have anything to do with her, even if it is just to spite her.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course, love. I don’t think you need to let your feelings about your mother fuel this. You built this foundation yourself. All this work is yours, and Dorcas’ and a few other people’s but it’s nothing to do with her. Same for your sobriety. You’ve done that. Don’t give her credit for everything you’ve built for yourself.”

“Right.” Sirius nodded, and then more firmly, “Right. You’re right. Thank you, Moony.”

“Anytime, darling. Feeling any better about this evening?”

Sirius’ resolve shattered and he gave a long drawn-out groan, dragging both their hands up to cover his face in despair. “God, I have to give another speech. Moony, please tell me I don’t have to.”

Remus chuckled brightly, squeezing Sirius’ hand as he prized it away from his face. “It’s going to be okay, love. You’ll be brilliant as always.”

“You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

~~~

When Sirius and Remus arrived at Godric Hall, it was already teeming with guests spilling out of the open doors, down the imposing stone steps arching away from the entrance and into the drive. Sirius swept through the crowds in a white crushed silk tuxedo shaded by a cool lilac undertone, the ends melting away into a the form of a cape that rippled around his grey heeled boots as he walked. The inner seams were stitched with gold threaded knots, glinting like tiny snowflakes where the fabric twisted and glinted under the many streaming lights illuminating the way up to the entrance of Godric Hall’s burned façade. Though the outer designs on the jacket were subtle, the overall effect was very much like a gale bursting through the flood of people, as the suit’s creator trailed behind, shying away from the attention that Sirius captured with every step he made.

Sirius, for his part, was overwhelmed by the turnout, doing his best not to show it. He’d sent speculative invitations out to various charitable organisations and affluent corporations alike, hoping to garner as much interest in the Black Foundation’s initiatives as possible. Granted, it was a prime networking opportunity for many, and no doubt the buzz from his recent media coverage had shone additional attention on the event, but even still this was more than he’d dared hope – the crowd nearly twice that of the audience he’d addressed in the House of Lords. For once, though, he refused to fall back into that haughty sneer and the aloof tilt of his chin, instead making every effort to meet the many eyes with his most gracious smile as he made his way through the hall and into the wide marbled ballroom.

Inside was buzzing with conversation and livelier than it had ever been during his ten years living there. To Sirius’ great relief, he found James waiting for him at the centre of the throng. He was already engrossed in an animated conversation with Dorcas and Marlene, the latter of whom seemed distinctly ill-at-ease among the richly decorated crowd of people, though clearly making the effort for Dorcas’ sake.

“Sirius, thank god you’re here,” Dorcas greeted, extending her free arm to pull Sirius into a kiss on the cheek, muttering into his ear, “I was worried I was going to have to send an armed escort.”

Sirius barked a nervous laughter as they drew apart, still partially surprised himself that he’d not fled at the prospect of giving another speech, another baring of his personal ghosts to a faceless audience of strangers and media. But he was here now and with the entrance he’d made, there was hardly going to be any way to escape unnoticed. Hidden by the crowds of people, Remus’ hand found his and gave a gentle squeeze. You’ll be brilliant, Sirius heard resounding in his mind.

Thanks to his fashionably late arrival, there was very little time for Sirius to greet a few important guests besides his friends, though he made sure thank Dame Bathilda for making an appearance and for her continued vocal support of his cause. Before long he was being whisked away from Remus and his other friends to an area behind the temporary stage with Dorcas and Mary, who they’d taken on as a press manager for such events.

“You’ve got your talking points?” Mary checked, wearing her most solemn business-look, that Sirius still found a little difficult to reconcile with the chatty, sharp-witted woman he regularly witnessed getting tipsy on a Friday night at the local down the road.

“Right here.” Sirius flicked the stacked cue cards from inside his breast pocket.

“And remember: The Black Foundation. You have to get the name out there.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” His grumbling assurances were met with an amused smirk that was much more at home with Mary’s usual self. His friends were yet to let him live down his failure to mention the organisation itself in his much-anticipated parliamentary speech.

“Perfect. Now remember, Elphias is the big fish we’re trying to hook tonight. If we can get his backing for the preliminary round of funding, we’ll be set for the next few years at least while we get everything else in place. I’ve checked and he’s hovering somewhere to the right in front of the stage, so make sure you direct at least some of it towards him.”

“I’ve got it Mary, honestly, it’s going to be fine.”

“I know it is. I’m filling the time so you don’t get all in your head about it.” Dorcas expelled an inelegant snort, and Sirius attempted to cast an unimpressed glare over them, only garnering further amusement.

“Alright, Meadowes,” Mary returned to her stiff professionalism, “Let’s get this thing started. And Sirius, remember she’ll introduce you, then you’ll go up, but wait for a break in the applause before you start speaking.”

Dorcas’ introduction was short and to the point, so in the next moment Sirius was being shuffled onto the platform, Mary hissing after him, “Don’t forget to thank them all for coming!”

Sirius recalled clambering onto the makeshift stage at the far-end of the brightly lit ballroom, he vaguely remembered thanking his guests as Mary had insisted, and the next moment he was thanking them all over again and insisting everyone stay as long as they wanted to enjoy the food and music, before being shuffled off the stage to be replaced by a lively string quartet playing a tumbling assortment of carols and dances. The speech itself had passed in a blur, and Sirius could only assume from Mary’s approving grin that his speech had hit all the notes it was supposed to.

With the hardest part out of the way, the crowds no longer seemed as much of an oppressive throng, and more a lively gathering, the likes of which had never been seen at a function hosted by that Noble and Ancient House. Now slightly more at ease and free to enjoy the party along with the other guests, Sirius found himself chatting happily with a small crowd of interested faces and even surprised himself by laughing loudly at one of health minister Slughorn’s terrible jokes. Despite his apprehensions, the crowd was almost bearable and the obligatory greasing of palms not as distasteful as he’d remembered now that it was for a cause he believed in. Though many of the unfamiliar faces regarded him with curiosity and even admiration, there was not a hint of the judgement or distain that he’d been dreading upon exposing himself to their scrutiny.

Throughout the evening, though his time was excessively domineered by being whisked from one potential investor to another, he found his eyes roaming about the room until he had his sights on the person who mattered most. As he moved about through the currents of excessively polite introductions and prolonged schmoozing, he was careful to keep Remus always in sight.

“Hmm.” Came the soft, considering noise beside him.

“What ‘hmm’? Dorcas what are you ‘hmm’ing about?” Sirius asked, as he and Dorcas were left to themselves, a brief moment of respite amid hours of hosting.

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine. These things have a way of working themselves out.” Sirius snorted, but before he could ask more, Dorcas had deposited her freshly drunk glass and was holding her hand aloft, “Dance?”

Sirius, never able to say no to a dance with his favourite lady, begrudgingly tugged the outstretched hand and the two of them billowed in cascading elegance around the room. Sirius was well aware of the striking figure he cut doing a foxtrot, and Dorcas was possibly the only woman who could draw attention away from Sirius, but as they spun across the floor, Sirius’ own gaze remained tracked on a single spot across the room, on the fixed point of a soft-bitten smirk and mahogany eyes that never left his own, a gravitational centre keeping him from becoming dizzy as the room danced around him.

“What do you think of my dress?” Dorcas asked as they danced, drawing Sirius out of his daydream, teasing at something secretive tucked beneath her question, “It’s new.”

Sirius, who hadn’t had the wherewithal before his speech to take in what anyone else had been wearing, and since had been preoccupied either buttering up potential investors or chasing Remus around the room with his gaze, let his eyes sweep down her long-flowing black gown, cut with fine ripples and adorned with simple spiralled lines of velvet that fed into the waves of the fabric.

“It’s… stunning,” Sirius murmured, surprising himself at how much he found himself envying the way Dorcas was carrying herself in the midnight gown.

“Remus made it for me.” As she spoke, her grin unfurled, a victorious glint in her eyes as Sirius almost stumbled his well-practiced pivot and barely managed to recover tripping over his own heels.

“That’s… good. He’s very talented. Very good.” Sirius mumbled tightly, not quite understanding the irritation that was bubbling up beneath his own perfectly stitched collar.

“I thought so.” Dorcas replied airily, tand they continued to dance in silence, Sirius letting his feet take over the well-rehearsed patterns as his mind was lost in a winding stream of shimmering velvet and deep black silk, his gaze returning to sift through the crowd until he settled back on the dark brown eyes that hadn’t for a moment stopped watching him.

As the dance drew to a close and the string quartet let their instruments fall slack for a brief respite, Dorcas muttered something about ‘returning him’ with a fond amusement and they found themselves over near the edge of the ballroom, where Remus and James had been discussing Lily’s upcoming visit.

“I have a question.” James announced loudly as the two approached, seeming tipsy despite only having drunk water and lemonade all night – in solidarity of Sirius, he insisted, no matter how many times Sirius assured him that he didn’t want his own sobriety stop others from enjoying a drink.

“Lord help us.” Dorcas put in, exchanging a small smirk with Remus, who shook his head fondly, eyes already creasing with laughter in anticipation of James’ query.

“If you two got married, how would that work?”

“Um… James, I don’t think it would.” Remus, whose face crumpled in concerned confusion while Dorcas and Sirius struggled to contain their laughter between them. “We’re not… uh, two men can’t marry.”

“What a ridiculous law.” James scoffed, and Sirius was never more grateful to call him a brother and a friend. “But, hear me out, supposing it was legal and you two did get married…”

“Alright…”

“Well, how would that work?”

“Are you asking how gay men have sex, Prongs?” Sirius asked, a little too loudly, just as Remus took a sip from his own drink, snorting loudly as he attempted to keep from choking at Sirius’ heavy-handed response.

“No. I mean, I know all that- you’ve given me all the graphic details often enough-” James dismissed with a wave of his hand, as Remus’ face coloured from faintly scandalised to a pink flush of horror.

“He has?”

“Oh yes, and let me just say Moony, I have nothing but respect for you and your stamina.” James replied with a wink, while Sirius laughed loudly at Remus’ strangled noise of unsuppressed horror.

“Oh come on, love, it’s not like you don’t share everything about our relationship with Lily.”

“Not that!” He protested.

“Alright, I promise I’ll stop. Sorry James, that’s the last you’ll hear from me about my flourishing sex life.” Sirius sniggered, earning an indignant thwack on the arm from Remus.

“See how flourishing it is after this.” Remus grumbled through his flushed embarrassment.

“Oh Moony, as if you could keep your hands off me.”

“Say that to me again when we get home and see how that works out for you.” Remus murmured lowly, quirking a threatening eyebrow as Sirius began to lose himself in the dark of his widening pupils.

“So what did you mean James?” Dorcas prompted loudly, drawing the two men out from their increasingly heated and barely private exchange, before Sirius could further entrench himself in the hole he was digging for himself.

“Well, if Remus makes all of Sirius’ suits, and you’re not meant to see each other’s outfits before the wedding, how would that work?”

Remus appeared utterly baffled by James’ question, blinking a few times as his lips made a few false starts in an attempt to answer, but Sirius didn’t give him the chance, stating resolutely, “I’d have to go naked. I’m not getting married in anything that you’ve not made for me Moony.”

Between Dorcas’ wearied eyeroll and James’ raucous laughter, Remus’ features grew soft and a little bashful, grazing his fingers briefly against Sirius’, a discreet gesture hidden between the crowds.

“Darling, I’d never let you.” He murmured softly, their gazes lingering for a long moment, before he cleared his throat and turned back to James, taking a matter-of-fact approach to James’ wildly hypothetical scenario. “But I’m still sure you wouldn’t need to be naked. It’s only that the groom isn’t meant to see the bride in her dress; I suppose, hypothetically speaking, it wouldn’t be a problem for two grooms.”

“And what if Sirius were wearing a dress?” Dorcas surprised them all by joining in the otherwise nonsensical debate, and by the turn their imagined future wedding had taken. It was only then that Sirius remembered his earlier irritation at the gorgeous dress Dorcas was wearing, the gorgeous dress that Remus had made for her.

He was drawn out of it again when he felt Remus’ warm gaze return to him, and he answered Dorcas’ question in a soft almost-whisper, “Well I suppose that would be up to Sirius.”

“James,” Sirius heard Dorcas faintly in the background, but his focus was now solely trained on the man in front of him. “Did you see where Marlene got to?”

“Think she was chatting to Mary by the bar last time I saw her.”

“Help me look for her.”

“But-”

“Hey James, why don’t the two of us go look for Mary and Marlene.”

“Oh. Right.” Remus and Sirius paid them no mind as James finally caught onto the hint and the two of them were left alone, oblivious to the flood of conversations happening around them, little more than a hum in the background.

After a further moment of staring deeply into each other’s eyes until the world around them seemed little more than a receding fleck in the distance, Remus made an aborted movement to touch him, drawing his hand back to his side as quickly as he had begun to reach out.

Sirius felt the absence, though he understood. He was publicly out of the closet, his sexuality fodder for the media, though fortunately it hadn’t managed to overshadow the importance of his other work. That didn’t mean Remus had to be exposed to the same. They could be together in private, away from prying eyes, in their own secret world that they kept hidden in that little flat above the atelier.

“Dorcas’ dress looks lovely.” Sirius’ voice came out a little strained.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Remus replied softly.

“I didn’t know you were making her dress.” Sirius did his best to hide the way the thought darkened his mood, but evidently did a poor enough job that Remus quirked a bemused smile, scanning Sirius’ face as he searched for an explanation to the recent irritation. “I don’t remember her coming over for any fittings.”

“You’ve been very busy, and I do see our friends without you sometimes.” He explained patiently.

“Well I heard nothing about it.” Sirius mumbled, unable to contain the slight pout forming at his lips. Only, it seemed the more his displeasure showed, the more amused Remus became.

“Love, are you jealous that I made clothes for someone else?”

“What- no of course not. I know I’m not your only client, it’s just-”

“It’s just?”

“It’s a gorgeous dress.” Sirius mumbled sheepishly, turning away from Remus’ knowing smirk towards the open ballroom, looking out at the small clusters of people laughing and drinking, occasional trays of canapés gliding over heads, while guests danced between them to a light and lively waltz.

“Thank you.” Remus said again, his voice warm and sincere, but when Sirius glanced at him out the corner of his eye, he could see the laughter painted clearly on his features. Sirius said nothing further, keeping quiet company with the man beside him, as they watched other couples sweeping around the ballroom, and Sirius fought hard to ignore his own disappointment that he and Remus weren’t among them.

After a short while, Remus spoke up again, his words tinged with that familiar teasing, “I seem to remember you being quite eager to get me to dance with you in this very ballroom, not so long ago. You never did hire that string quartet for me.”

“Yes, being threatened by my darling mother and relapsing into alcoholism did rather put a damper on my plans to whisk you around my ballroom.” Came Sirius’ drawled reply, his own amusement tugging the corner of his lips into a smirk, despite his best attempt not to engage in the obvious goading.

Fortunately Remus seemed to see right through him, undeterred from whatever game he was playing, “You’ve been sober for three months, what’s your excuse for that?”

“No ballroom.”

“So now here we are, in a ballroom with a string quartet already hired for the night. Seems you’re running out of excuses, Lord Black.”

“Remus…” Sirius faltered, no longer sure he was in on the joke. He turned back to face Remus, needing to see his expression now, needing to be certain of what Remus was about to say.

“Dance with me?” Remus asked. A soft smile had replaced his teasing smirk, sincerity in his affectionate gaze, a promise sealed within his request.

“Are- are you sure?”

“I’m sure I’m a terrible dancer, but I remember someone insisting that he wanted to dance with me regardless.” Remus’ smile grew into a wide grin, “Something about what my hips can do?”

“Remus, wait.” Sirius pulled back against Remus’ hand already tugging him towards the floor. “The minute we step out onto the dance floor together, your anonymity is gone. You go from being a tailor living in the peace and quiet of the Welsh countryside to being Lord Black’s gay lover. The moment we start dancing, you’ll be putting yourself in the public eye, I’d be putting you directly the media’s firing line. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I’ll be honest, the prospect doesn’t thrill me.” Remus grimaced at the suggestion, “But how long do you think we’ll be able to get away with hiding from all that if we don’t?”

“I- what do you mean?”

“Sirius, sweetheart, we live together.” He explained, with a gentle tone and an expression of utter fondness, “And it wouldn’t surprise me if people are already beginning to speculate. No doubt half the people here are wondering who I am and what I could possibly be doing at an event like this, taking up all your time and attention.”

And it was true. Two men talking hardly merited attention under usual circumstances. But when one of them was Lord Black, at his own prestigious event, surrounded by media and all manner of prominent businessmen, opportunistic politicians and power-hungry aristocrats, each vying for a moment of his time, there was no doubt that anyone he was talking to would immediately fall under the scrutiny of a hundred watchful eyes.

Sirius averted his gaze, realising he’d not even thought of how uncomfortable it might be for Remus, hadn’t paused to consider how his own actions might be drawing unwanted attention towards Remus, and how those around them, oozing with influence and wealth, might look down on him. And of course Remus bore it all with a smile for Sirius’ sake.

In that moment, a world of worries began to play through Sirius’ mind in an unending loop. But, once again, Remus was by his side, ready to allay every concern, turning every impossible decision into endless possibility with a single gesture.

Lifting Sirius’ chin to meet his eyes again, something in his steady gaze made Sirius’ heart leap in his chest, his rapid drumming pulse threatening to make a break through his clavicle and out onto the floor for everyone to see the upturned mess.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to hide our relationship forever, and if this means I get to dance with you and come out on our own terms, then I say we make the most of it.” The next words he spoke with such certainty that the room seemed to still around them, dancing couples frozen in the background, music and laughter drifting in suspended time, as Sirius found himself tumbling into the deep forest hues of his eyes, “I’m in this with you, Sirius. For the long run, for the rest of our lives if you’ll have me.”

“You’d want that?” Came Sirius’ uncertain reply, “You’d want all this? For the rest of… you really want to dance with me here?”

“I want you, Sirius. If that’s what you want?”

In an instant it all became so simple, because Sirius knew only one answer to that.

Through all doubts and worries, through tireless work and petty squabbles, through sleepless nights and freezing winter mornings, through every painful trial that life had and would continue to throw at them, there was only one thing that Sirius knew for certain.

“I always want you, Remus.”

The smile that followed was blinding. With warmth in his eyes and love in his voice, Remus offered his open palm to Sirius.

“In that case, Lord Black, may I have this dance?”