Chapter Text
The key turned stubbornly in the lock before finally giving way.
Remus pushed open the door to his flat with a sigh and stepped inside, shrugging out of his worn brown overcoat. The familiar quiet greeted him immediately. No roommates. No pets. No enchanted portraits demanding conversation. Just silence.
He shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment.
The day had been long, but not in a dangerous way. Dangerous days belonged to Aurors and curse breakers and the poor sods sent to clean up after dragon escapes - but long in the uniquely exhausting way that came with spending eight consecutive hours hunched over a desk deciphering a hundred-and-forty-year-old report on spontaneous broomstick combustion.
Apparently, in 1886, an experimental racing broom had developed a tendency to explode whenever its rider experienced strong emotions. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had recently discovered several remarkably similar incidents. This meant that Remus had spent most of his week buried beneath stacks of reports, witness statements, and dusty journals searching for a pattern everyone else had missed. Eventually, he'd found one, though probably at the cost of his eyesight and several years of his life. It had been worth it. Mostly.
He crossed the small sitting room and flicked his wand toward a lamp. Soft golden light filled the flat. The apartment wasn't much to look at. A modest second-floor walk-up in a quiet wizarding neighborhood of London. Small kitchen. Smaller bedroom. Books everywhere.
Far too many books, according to Sirius.
Not nearly enough books, according to Remus.
The shelves along one wall bowed slightly beneath the weight of decades-old magical texts. Loose parchment covered most available surfaces. A tea mug sat abandoned atop a stack of journals. To Remus, it was comfortably and unapologetically home.
At twenty-eight, Remus supposed his life was not particularly exciting. He liked it that way. He enjoyed his work. He enjoyed his independence. He enjoyed being able to spend entire evenings reading in complete silence without anyone questioning his sanity. Some people seemed to think happiness required grand ambitions or constant excitement. Remus had never understood that. His life was small. His life was quiet. And most days, it suited him perfectly.
He set his satchel down and headed toward the kitchen. The fridge contained approximately three ingredients and a suspiciously old jar of mustard. Good enough. A few minutes later he sat at the tiny kitchen table eating a sandwich that would have horrified Lily. She'd once informed him that a meal consisting entirely of bread and cheese was not technically nutrition. He'd pointed out that it was, in fact, technically nutrition. She had not appreciated the distinction.
A smile tugged briefly at his mouth. The gang would be meeting in a few hours for Friday night trivia, a tradition stretching back nearly six years. They weren’t able to meet every week anymore. Life had a way of becoming complicated after Hogwarts. James and Lily had Harry. Peter worked impossible hours helping run his father's newspaper. Marlene and Dorcas were forever being sent on assignments halfway across the country. Sirius--
Remus paused. Sirius had spent the last three weeks in Romania. Some dark wizard with a talent for cursed artifacts had slipped across international borders, and the Auror Office had sent a team after him. The assignment had been extended twice.
Remus finished the last bite of his sandwich and carried the plate to the sink. Tonight would be the first time he'd seen Sirius in nearly a month, not that he'd been counting. The thought settled somewhere warm and familiar inside his chest. Thoughts about Sirius had always been like that. It was not something Remus cared to examine too closely, but he knew with a quiet certainty that the world felt slightly more itself when Sirius was in it. They'd been friends for over fifteen years, long enough that Remus sometimes struggled to remember what life had looked like before. Long enough that entire stretches of memory seemed impossible to separate from Sirius's presence. Hogwarts corridors. Late-night studying. Quidditch matches. Summer holidays. Arguments. Laughter. Every important memory seemed to have Sirius somewhere nearby.
The shower was calling. And if he didn't get moving, Lily would undoubtedly send a Howler accusing him of being late. He stepped into the shower and let hot water pour over his shoulders. Remus rested one hand against the shower wall and let the tension of the day gradually ease from his muscles. The apartment's plumbing was questionable at best. The water pressure varied wildly depending on the other tenants’ usage. Tonight, however, fortune smiled upon him. Steam filled the room.
His mind drifted. The report on cursed brooms. Harry's upcoming fifth birthday. Whether Peter would once again attempt to answer every trivia question with complete confidence despite being wrong nearly eighty percent of the time. Another strange report that crossed his desk right before five o’clock about a missing house. Dark wizards in Romania. Sirius. How the trip had gone. Whether he'd slept at all. Whether he'd remembered to eat something other than pub food. Whether he'd come back with another ridiculous scar and an even more ridiculous story.
The corner of Remus's mouth lifted. Sirius collected stories the way other people collected Chocolate Frog cards. Every assignment became an adventure. Every setback became a joke. Every disaster somehow transformed into something worth laughing about later. It was one of the things Remus admired most about him. Though he would never say so aloud. Sirius already possessed a dangerously inflated ego.
The shower hissed softly around him. Three weeks. It wasn't that long. Certainly not long enough to miss someone. Still, he thought to himself, the flat had felt quieter lately. The week had seemed just a little longer than usual.
Remus exhaled slowly. He was looking forward to tonight. That was all. Seeing everyone. Hearing about Romania. Watching James and Sirius argue about quidditch trivia. Listening to Lily destroy entire categories single-handedly. Nothing more complicated than that.
He turned off the water. The silence rushed back immediately. A few minutes later he emerged from the bedroom dressed in a clean jumper and distressed jeans. Outside the window, evening was beginning to settle over the city. The sky glowed amber. Somewhere downstairs a wireless played faintly through an open window.
Remus checked the time. If he left now, he'd arrive early. But there was a chance that Sirius might also be there early. The thought slipped into his mind so naturally that he didn't even question it. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door and headed out.
The evening air was cool and pleasant as he walked through the wizarding quarter toward The Wand & Thistle, a cozy pub tucked between a bookshop and an apothecary. Friday trivia had become such a fixture of his routine that he could have made the trip blindfolded.
The pub was already lively when he stepped inside. A fire crackled in the hearth. Several tables were occupied by regulars. The familiar smell of ale and shepherd's pie hung in the air. Remus scanned the room automatically. No Sirius. Something inside him sank slightly. Then he immediately felt ridiculous.
“Moony!” James waved enthusiastically from their usual table.
Remus smiled despite himself and crossed the room.
“You're early,” Lily observed.
“So are you,” he replied with a grin
“We have a babysitter tonight,” James said solemnly. “When one has a babysitter, one takes advantage of every available minute.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “We've been here twelve minutes.”
“Twelve glorious minutes,” sighed James blissfully.
Remus slid into the seat across from them. “How's Harry?”
James groaned. “He learned the word ‘why.’ Why is the sky blue? Why do owls fly? Why can't I ride a hippogriff?”
Remus grinned. “To be fair, that last one is a valid question.”
James pointed dramatically. “See? This is why he doesn't respect authority.”
Remus laughed. The easy familiarity settled around him immediately. These evenings always felt like stepping into a comfortable old jumper.
James leaned back in his chair. “So.” He looked at Remus pointedly.
Remus knew that tone. “What?”
“Sirius gets back today,” James said with a smirk.
Remus took a deliberately casual sip of his drink. “Does he?”
Lily's mouth twitched. “Oh, don't start,” she warned her husband.
“I'm not starting anything,” James replied.
“You absolutely are,” she laughed, looking apologetically towards Remus.
James looked wounded. “I merely mentioned a fact.”
“A fact you know perfectly well Remus has been tracking like a prison sentence,” Lily replied.
Remus nearly choked. “I have not.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “You have.”
Remus rolled his back at her. “I haven't.”
“You know exactly how many days he’s been gone,” James countered.
“Because you kept mentioning it,” replied Remus.
“Interesting,” said James. “Because I don't know how many days he's been gone. How could I have mentioned it?”
Remus felt heat creeping into his face. “That's hardly evidence of anything.”
James exchanged a look with Lily - one of those married-people looks, the infuriating kind where entire conversations somehow occurred without words. Remus hated those looks. Especially when they were directed at him.
James grinned. “Sure, Moony.”
“What does that mean?” Remus huffed.
“Nothing,” James replied with a glint in his eye.
Remus sighed. “It clearly means something.”
Lily patted his arm sympathetically. “Don't worry about him.”
“I'm not worried,” Remus retorted.
“Good,” Lily smirked.
“Because there's nothing to worry about,” Remus insisted.
Lily grinned. “Excellent.”
Remus narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like I'm being mocked?”
“Years of experience?” James suggested. Lily kicked him under the table. “Ow,” he yelped.
Before James could respond, the pub door swung open. Peter hurried inside carrying a stack of newspapers under one arm. “Sorry!” he called. “Deadline.”
“Same excuse every week,” James said.
“It's still true every week,” he grinned as he pulled out a chair and flopped down. He immediately began waving one of the papers. “You'll never guess what happened today. A hippogriff got loose in Birmingham.”
James brightened. “Excellent!”
Peter shook his head. “Sometimes I worry about you.”
The door opened again. Marlene strode inside first, Dorcas close behind. Marlene spotted the group and immediately pointed at the empty chair beside Remus.
She raised her eyebrow innocently. “Is that Sirius's seat?”
Remus blinked. “What?”
“It's Sirius's seat, isn't it?” Marlene inquired again.
“No,” Remus replied, heat rushing to his cheeks. Of course, he had been saving it for Sirius. Was that bad? Why were his friends giving him the third degree about looking forward to seeing his best friend after an extended absence?
“It absolutely is.” Dorcas sat down smoothly with a pointed look in Remus’s direction.
Remus stood, feeling embarrassed though he didn’t really understand why. “I’m headed to the bar. I’ll get this round.”
.
The pub was busier now than when he'd arrived. The noise of conversation and laughter filled the room, punctuated by the occasional burst of cheering from other trivia teams. He placed the order and settled in to wait. The bartender was juggling half a dozen requests at once. It would take a few minutes. Remus leaned against the bar and breathed in deep trying to slow his breathing and will the flush from his face.
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around his waist. A body pressed warmly against his back. A familiar face buried itself briefly in his hair. For one impossible second, Remus forgot how to breathe. The scent hit him immediately. Leather. Smoke. Something sharp and clean beneath it. Sirius. His entire body reacted before his brain caught up. Every muscle relaxed. Every muscle tensed. His heart lurched violently against his ribs.
“Moony!” The voice was muffled against the back of his neck.
Remus turned. Sirius was grinning at him. The sight hit him with surprising force. Three weeks wasn't a long time and yet somehow Sirius looked different. His dark hair was slightly longer than before, falling into his eyes in unruly waves. There was a faint tan across his nose from the Romanian summer. His jaw carried the shadow of days without a shave. He looked tired. He looked alive. He looked handsome. Painfully handsome.
Remus had spent years pretending that particular observation didn't occur to him with alarming regularity. Apparently three weeks apart had done nothing to improve the situation.
Before he could say anything, Sirius pulled him into a proper hug. And Remus let himself be pulled. Of course he did. His arms wrapped automatically around Sirius's shoulders. Sirius squeezed him tightly. For a moment the noise of the pub seemed to fade. It was ridiculous. They hugged all the time. They'd been friends for over fifteen years. There was absolutely nothing unusual about this. Except Sirius's arms felt stronger than Remus remembered. Except he was warm and solid and here. Except Remus had missed him far more than was reasonable.
The hug lingered. One second. Two. Three. Long enough that a tiny voice in the back of Remus's mind began whispering that perhaps they should let go. Sirius, apparently, had no such concerns. When they finally separated, Sirius kept a hand on his shoulder. “Merlin, it's good to see you.”
Remus smiled despite himself. “You've only been gone three weeks.”
“Longest three weeks of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been away from my Moonbeam this long before,” he grinned up through his lashes. Remus thought he actually felt himself swooning.
“Romania wasn't that bad,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Sirius gasped dramatically and whined, “It absolutely was, Moony! You have no idea how much I missed you.”
“You sent a postcard saying you were having the time of your life,” Remus replied drily.
“I was lying,” Sirius insisted.
Remus frowned. “You drew a smiley face.” Truthfully, he loved this back-and-forth, but was sure Sirius was exaggerating. It’s not like Sirius could have actually missed him as much as Remus had.
“I was suffering every day without you,” Sirius insisted with a pout.
Remus finally let out a laugh. The sound escaped before he could stop it. Sirius's grin widened immediately, as though he had accomplished something. And there it was. That familiar tightening somewhere deep in Remus's chest. The thing he tried not to examine too closely. The thing he'd spent years carefully ignoring. Because Sirius was Sirius. Brilliant. Charismatic. Beautiful. Entirely out of Remus's league. And Sirius loved him, Remus knew that. Just not in the way Remus loved Sirius. Not in the way that made Remus's stomach twist whenever Sirius smiled at him. Not in the way that made him notice details like the freckles across Sirius's nose or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Not in the way that made three weeks feel entirely too long. Sirius had never given any indication he wanted more than friendship. And friendship, Remus reminded himself firmly, was enough.
He stepped back first, suddenly aware of how long they'd been standing there. The warmth crept up his neck immediately.
“Drinks,” he said intelligently.
Sirius blinked. “What?”
“The drinks. The gang’s been waiting on them. You’ve distracted me in my drink fetching duties. Actually, I’m quite sure you ambushed me,” Remus smirked.
Sirius’s face turned sheepish, and Remus grinned at the cute way his eyebrows furled together. He knocked his elbow into Sirius’s in a friendly way just to make himself stop staring at the handsome man. Together they collected the drinks and headed back toward the table. The moment the others spotted Sirius, chaos erupted. They settled into their seats. Sirius immediately became the center of attention. As he always did.
Sirius launched into a story about chasing a dark wizard through a Muggle village, only to accidentally set off a flock of angry geese that seemed far more determined to catch him than the fugitive. By the time he reached the part where he'd been forced to dive into a fountain to escape them, the entire table had dissolved into laughter.
Sirius basked in it. His hands moved animatedly as he talked, eyes bright with amusement, every expression larger than life. Remus found himself watching him instead of listening. The details of the story blurred together, lost beneath the simple comfort of being here surrounded by friends he hadn't seen together in far too long. Still, no matter where his attention wandered, it always found its way back to Sirius. To Sirius laughing so hard he nearly choked on his drink. To Sirius rolling his eyes dramatically when someone interrupted to point out an inconsistency in his tale. To Sirius nearly knocking over his glass while reenacting some absurd sprint through the Romanian countryside.
Remus couldn't have repeated a single detail of the story afterward. But he could have described every smile, every gesture, every spark of life in Sirius's face.
Across the table, Lily caught Remus looking. Her gaze shifted briefly toward James. The two exchanged one of their infuriating married-person looks. Remus immediately looked away. His ears burned with embarrassment. James's grin widened. Remus pretended not to notice.
One round became three. Three became enough drinks that everyone was talking a little louder than usual and laughing a little too hard at jokes that weren't particularly funny. At some point, James had insisted they sign up for pub trivia. Against all odds, they had actually done quite well, mostly thanks to Lily and Remus. Remus had quietly supplied answers whenever the questions drifted toward literature, history, or obscure magical law, while Lily seemed to possess an alarming amount of knowledge about absolutely everything else. They finished in third place. Which would have been second place if they hadn't listened to Peter's confident insistence that the inventor of the Sneakoscope was a wizard named Barnaby Twitchet. It was not. Peter remained adamant that it should have been. The argument lasted nearly twenty minutes.
By the time the pub finally closed around them, they were all pleasantly exhausted. Goodbyes were exchanged outside beneath the glow of the streetlamps. James and Lily disappeared first, still bickering about one of the trivia questions. Peter headed off soon after, while Marlene and Dorcas wandered away arm in arm. Remus found himself lingering on the pavement beside Sirius.
“You heading home, then?” Sirius asked.
“Eventually.”
Sirius hummed thoughtfully before stepping closer and promptly tucking himself beneath Remus's arm as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Remus's breath caught. Sirius either didn't notice or pretended not to.
“Come on, Moony,” he said, nudging him forward. “I'll walk you.”
It wasn't far. Just a few quiet streets lit by warm golden light. Sirius stayed pressed against his side the entire way, close enough that their shoulders bumped every few steps. Close enough that Remus could feel the warmth of him through their jackets.
They talked about nothing important: the trivia game, James's terrible strategy, whether Peter genuinely believed his answer or had simply made it up. Remus barely heard half the conversation. Every ounce of his attention was focused on the weight against his side. When they finally reached his building, Sirius stepped back. For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Sirius grinned. “Goodnight, Moony.”
Before Remus could think of anything clever to say, Sirius turned on the spot and vanished with a crack, leaving behind only silence and the lingering scent of smoke and cedar. Remus stood outside for another minute before finally climbing the stairs to his flat.
The apartment felt strangely empty after the noise and warmth of the evening. He changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed. Sleep, however, proved more difficult. Every time he closed his eyes, Sirius appeared. Sirius laughing. Sirius throwing his head back during trivia. Sirius pressed against his side during the walk home. Sirius looking up at him beneath the streetlights.
It was becoming a problem. A serious one. Because these feelings weren't fading. If anything, they seemed to be growing stronger every time they saw each other. Remus rolled onto his side and buried his face in his pillow.
This is ridiculous, he thought. Sirius is my friend. My best friend. I am twenty-eight years old, not some hopeless teenager mooning over a crush.
Yet here he was. Hopelessly, painfully gone. The realization settled heavily in his chest. Something had to change. He had to do something about this before it got completely out of hand, said something foolish, and ruined everything.
With that grim thought looping endlessly through his mind, Remus finally drifted off to sleep. The last thing he remembered was Sirius's smile.