Chapter Text
September 1982
Sirius Black woke up alone.
He wasn’t surprised, or even all that disappointed, if he was being honest with himself, and if there was one thing he’d learned during the war, it was how to be honest with himself.
Her name was Emmeline—he’d never forget that—and she was beautiful, that much was for certain. Gorgeous in a willowy, bohemian way, like Jane Birkin. All long, silky hair and long, silky legs, big brown eyes peering out from beneath straight-cut bangs, crocheted white crop tops and low-slung jeans that were a little too big and might have belonged to an ex-boyfriend or a brother, but either way, looked really damned good on her.
Emmeline had been a setup, the friend of a friend of a healer from Sirius’s training program.
After he and Emmeline had exchanged a few owls, Sirius did what he always did. First, he suggested they meet in Muggle London for a 30-minute coffee while he ran through his standard list of questions:
- What do you do for work? (She was a staff photographer for Witch Weekly)
- What are your long-term goals? (She wanted to open a photography studio and see the Grateful Dead in concert at least once before Jerry Garcia got too fucked on heroin)
- Which Hogwarts house were you in? (Ravenclaw, she said, but isn’t that a bit of a juvenile question? They’ve been out of school for years by now, who cares)
- Punk or New Wave? (Another stupid question. She liked both, but if she was forced at wandpoint to choose one or the other, she’d say New Wave because she was tired of people complaining and shouting after the war. And besides, how could you be upset when Rock Lobster was playing?)
Once Sirius was satisfied that Emmeline was attractive and could do more than just string a sentence together, he suggested a second date, drinks at a crowded pub where there would be more dart throwing than talking. This would allow Sirius to assess whether she’d pass his second test: Could he possibly take her out with his mates? After an hour or so of watching her work the room, he decided yes, she would have fun with his friends on pub nights. She laughed easily and wasn’t bad at darts, either. And she tossed her hair a lot and smelled nice, and did Sirius mention the Jane Birkin thing?
Then came the crucial third date, the real test: Dinner at Le Chaudron de la Sorcière.
It had gone well.
Actually, “well” might have been a stretch. It had gone OK. Once the “war hero Sirius Black” topic had been exhausted and the flimsy thread of chitchat about their mutual acquaintances had run out, Sirius found that he and Emmeline didn’t actually have all that much in common, and the conversation slowed and stilted somewhere between the salad and cheese courses. By the time the waiter delivered their little plate of madeleines, Sirius and Emmeline had officially run out of things to talk about.
“Didn’t Proust wax lyrical about madeleines?” Sirius asked. He reached for the same madeleine as Emmeline, but not in a cute way. In a terribly awkward and weird way. Twice.
“I don’t know,” she replied shortly, gesturing for Sirius to just take the fucking madeleine. “I never read Proust.”
“Neither did I,” Sirius admitted, and took the fucking madeleine.
Even so, Sirius brought Emmeline home to Grimmauld Place to do what he did best, no words needed for that. Sirius might not be able to follow the path of a dinner conversation, but he certainly didn’t need a map for making Emmeline scream and sweat and forget her own name for a couple of hours. The human body was a predictable thing sometimes—reflexes and erogenous zones and whatnot—and Sirius was a medical student, after all.
“You lived up to that part at least,” Emmeline panted afterwards, one slender arm flung over her face, her chest heaving, her pretty nipples sucked red and swollen, her long, silky hair a gorgeous mess across the pillow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked, frowning at his bedroom ceiling and contemplating the same spot of chipped paint that he used to stare at as a kid. It kind of looked like Neville Chamberlain.
Emmeline laughed a little and rolled her head on the pillow to look at him.
“I already knew all about you,” she said, and Sirius sighed.
“Yeah, doesn’t everyone at this point?” he asked. He felt more tired than bitter, but his words came out more bitter than tired.
“Not because of the war. You dated my friend, Marjory,” Emmeline confessed. “Over the summer. And before her, you dated Marjory’s neighbor, Susan. I got the whole rundown on you already. Marjory said to expect two non-committal dates, a fancy French dinner with minimal conversation, and the best sex of my life. I’d say you delivered on all of it.”
“Oh, cheers,” Sirius huffed, then looked at her sideways, trying to remember her friend. “Marjory…Ginger girl, right?”
“No,” Emmeline said with a biting laugh.
“Who is she, then?”
“I’m not telling you!” Emmeline scoffed. She propped herself up on one elbow and narrowed her eyes at him, her long hair cascading across her shoulder and over her breasts as she moved. She stared at him a second longer, then shook her head in…in what? Disgust? Disbelief?
“We all blend together to you, don’t we?” she asked, watching him shrewdly. “All the girls you’re not really interested in, but for some reason shag anyhow. Why do you do that, exactly?”
“Do what?” Sirius asked, scratching the back of his neck. He suddenly wished he had some clothes on. He didn’t like this feeling of being X-rayed and interrogated in his own bed. His clothes were on the floor, and summoning them right now would be uncouth, so instead he opened a little drawer next to him and pulled out his cigarettes. He needed to do something with his hands.
“Take out girls you’re not interested in dating, then shag the daylights out of us? Hey, can I have one of those?” Emmeline interrupted herself, nodding toward the ciggie Sirius was lighting with the tip of his wand. Sirius shook one from the slightly crumpled pack and Emmeline took it, leaning across the rumpled blankets to light hers off the end of Sirius’s.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Emmeline continued, breathing out a plume of smoke around her words and propping herself sideways against the pillows again. “I’m happy to have a couple of nice dinners and then spend the evening riding your broomstick, but it doesn’t seem like your heart’s really in it.”
“And how do you know where my heart is?” Sirius demanded, well past annoyed now. He glanced over Emmeline’s shoulder at the ugly, ebony and silver, serpent-adorned grandmother clock on the wall. Five after midnight. Time for this girl to hit the road. Merlin, she’d barely said a word all night and now she was analyzing him? For fucks sake.
“You just seem to have a formula, is all,” Emmeline said. “Tried and true.”
Well, shit, he couldn’t exactly deny that.
“I know what I’m good at,” Sirius mumbled, and Emmeline laughed again.
“Yeah, I’ll give you that,” she acknowledged, wordlessly vanishing a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette with a flick of her wand. “Credit where it’s due. You made me come five times.”
“And this is the bloody thanks I get?” Sirius demanded.
“Did you ever think that this is my way of saying thank you? I’m doing you a favor here. Now answer my question.”
“What was the question?”
“For Merlin’s sake, Sirius, you have the attention span of a goddamn goldfish! I asked you why you keep taking out girls that you’re not really interested in?”
“Who says I’m not—”
“Just answer the damn question.”
“Because…because I need to settle down,” Sirius said. “I want to settle down. It’s been…with the war, and…I want…”
Sirius stopped himself and took a steadying breath. He closed his eyes and shook his head, sucking the end of his cigarette. What was with this girl?
“Do you even know what you want?” Emmeline asked, and Sirius stared at her again. She really was pretty. She was confident, utterly unself conscious in her nakedness, and wore a lot of black eye makeup, even though she didn’t need it. Then he remembered Lily telling him that women wore makeup because they liked it, not because they “needed” it or wanted to impress anyone, and to stop being an arsehole.
Lily.
Lovely Lily. Lovely, fiery, clever, brave Lily.
Sirius thought of how James loved her in a way that was fierce but also sweet and comfortable. Of the easy way they communicated without words. Of the two of them puttering around their kitchen in Godric’s Hollow and the smell of Harry’s baby shampoo. He thought of calm, quiet nights by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, curled on the couch with a book, surrounded by his friends.
And he thought, inexplicably, of Remus and his soft cardigans and too-big-for-his face, wire-rimmed glasses and well-worn books with cracked bindings and dog-eared pages and his big, scarred hands that were so careful with everything he touched. He thought of Remus and the thoughtful way he made tea for Tabitha every morning, how he’d always save Sirius the last Danish at breakfast when they were kids at Hogwarts.
He thought of comfort and love; things he’d seen from a distance and longed for, but never thought he’d get the chance to have. And now that the war was over, and they’d all miraculously survived…now that they’d been given a second chance at having a real life, maybe, just maybe…
“I want a relationship,” Sirius said finally. “I want a quiet life with someone I love.”
“You? A quiet life?” Emmeline snorted, but stilled when she saw the look on Sirius’s face.
“Hard to believe, but yes,” he said a little defensively, and it occurred to him that this was the most he and Emmeline had talked to each other all night.
“And do you really think this is how you’ll find it?” Emmeline asked, gentler now, but still cocking a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Shagging your way through London?”
“I do other things, too!” Sirius said, almost insulted. “I took you on three dates before we shagged!”
“We were in the same room three times before we shagged,” Emmeline corrected. “Calling them dates is a stretch.”
“Having food and/or drinks at a third-party establishment is a date!” Sirius exclaimed.
“A third-party establishment?” Emmeline repeated. “Really? What lame dating instructional manual did you hear that from?”
The dating instructional manual was called, “Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches,” but Sirius wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Taking someone to dinner is nice!” he countered. “It’s what’s done!”
“Yes, but there’s more to dating and relationships than that, Sirius! It’s not a checklist that you tick off until you get to the sex part,” Emmeline continued. “You have to be romantic! And attentive! You have to actually listen to the other person and be interested in them! You have to want to spend time with them and learn about them! You have to like them!”
“Hey! I learned about you!”
“That’s a laugh, what did you learn?”
“I learned…I learned that you’re very good at darts,” Sirius said, feeling heat prickle up the back of his neck. “And that you come faster when I use my teeth a little.”
At this, Emmeline burst out laughing.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m just a game of strategy for you to figure out all the shortcuts to winning, aren’t I? What’s my name?”
“Emily,” Sirius said with wide, innocent eyes, and Emmeline slapped him across the back of the head.
“Fuck you!”
“I’m kidding! I know it’s Edith.”
“You’re on thin ice, mister!”
“Emmeline!” Sirius cried with a laugh, dodging her hand as she reached out to slap him again, making the stupid, fussy, silk brocade hangings on his four-poster bed flutter as he jerked away. He really needed to take those down and torch them. “It’s Emmeline!”
“You are very, very lucky you’re gorgeous,” Emmeline said, jabbing her cigarette at him. “Otherwise, somebody would’ve knocked your teeth out by now. I’m thinking about doing it myself.”
“My teeth have already been knocked out,” Sirius replied. “Twice by Death Eaters and once by my father.”
“Well, good for them. At least someone’s got decent aim,” Emmeline said. Sirius laughed despite himself and crushed out his cigarette in the moon-shaped ashtray on the bedside table.
“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, you know,” Sirius said as he turned back to her. “I showed you a good time tonight.”
“Yeah, once dinner was over,” Emmeline smirked.
“Rude,” Sirius snapped.
“Sorry,” she replied, but didn’t sound it. She reached across him to put out her own cigarette, her long hair brushing over Sirius’s bare chest. Then, she sat up straight, put her hands on her naked hips, and fixed Sirius with a look.
“Listen. I actually sort of like you, Sirius,” she said. “I think you’re a decent bloke. And since we are never going out again, I’ll help you instead. Can I give you some advice?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, you don’t.”
“Go on, then,” Sirius sighed.
“You’ve got the shagging bit down,” Emmeline said. “Full marks, no notes. But the boyfriend bit? Pathetic.”
“Pathetic?”
“Pa-the-tic!”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”
“Actually, I think it’s letting you off rather easy,” Emmeline said. “You are not good at this.”
“I was good at some of it!” Sirius said. “Damned good!”
At this, Emmeline let out a little nodding sigh.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Damned good is right.”
Sirius contemplated her for another moment before speaking again.
“Want to have one more go?” Sirius asked. Might as well throw caution to the wind and attempt to leave on a high note at least. “Go out with a bang?”
Emmeline smirked again, one corner of her mouth twitching upward as she looked him up and down, took in his broad shoulders; muscled, tattooed chest; and silky, shoulder-length black hair.
“You know what?” she shrugged, tossing away the blankets and crawling on top of him. “Why the fuck not?”
They had fun. Sirius even sort of liked her, despite himself, and made her come three more times—loudly—her back arching off the bed and her fists gripping the sheets. They both passed out after that, face down in the piles of pillows in the dark room, their bodies half covered by a tangle of blankets.
When Sirius woke up a few hours later, it was still pitch dark in his bedroom, but the other side of his bed was empty. He didn’t much care, and didn’t blame her for leaving. He wouldn’t have stayed either, if he was her. Besides, he was glad to not have to face her in the cold light of morning.
He was hot and a little thirsty, but too tired to reach for his wand, and was just about to go back to sleep when he heard creaking hinges and footsteps downstairs. At first he thought it was Emmeline slipping out the front door, but the footsteps continued, heading deeper into the house. They were followed by a little thud, and then—
“Filth! Scum! Halfbreed, darkening the house of my forefathers! Disgusting, wretched beast! How dare you show your—"
“Oh shut up, you vile wench!” a man’s voice hissed. “Silencio!”
Sirius knew that voice. But what the hell was he doing here at—Sirius pointed his lit wand at the clock on the wall—3:15 in the morning? Sirius got out of bed, grabbed his boxers off the floor, pulled them on, and walked out of his bedroom into the hallway. He gripped the oak banister and shined his wand light down into the foyer, illuminating the tall, lanky figure of a man wearing a long, plaid bathrobe over short white boxers; a white t-shirt; shit-kicking black combat boots with no socks, and nothing else. His long legs looked extra skinny with all that bare skin sticking up out of the heavy black boots like weeds out of a cracked sidewalk.
“Hey, watch where you’re pointing that thing,” the man said, squinting and shading his eyes from the bright light with his hand.
“Moony, what the hell are you doing here?” Sirius asked, lowering his wand so it wasn’t shining directly in Remus’s eyes anymore. Remus gave him a sheepish look and raised his arm a little, showing Sirius a tattered old suitcase he was carrying. It looked as though Remus had packed in a hurry. Sirius could see a sock sticking out of the side.
“I left,” Remus shrugged.
“Left?” Sirius repeated. “As in, for the night?”
“No, not for the night,” Remus told him, not quite meeting his eye. “Left. As in left-left. For good.”
“But—what happened? Did you two have a fight?”
Remus nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He looked stoic, but that was nothing new. He also looked tired and was chewing the inside of his cheek, staring at his boots, his messy curls falling over the rim of his glasses.
When Remus didn’t answer, Sirius spoke again, trying to make his words buoyant and optimistic.
“Aww, don’t worry, Moons,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll all blow over by morning, and—”
“She wasn’t alone, Sirius,” Remus said. “When I got home tonight, she wasn’t alone.”
Remus finally looked at him. Their eyes met in the darkness, and Sirius felt a torrent of emotions that he was self-aware enough now to recognize as unhelpful but couldn’t stop himself from feeling anyhow.
Rage and indignation coursed through his blood, sparking like angry electricity with every thudding heartbeat against his ribs. He wanted to Apparate straight into Tabitha’s bedroom—no, into the hallway outside her bedroom so he could dramatically kick down the door—and hex the word “CHEAT” in painful, pus-filled boils right across her stupid, cheating face. How dare she do this to Moony? His Moony! His best friend, the bravest, most beautiful soul alive! After all that Moony had sacrificed during the war, after everything he’d been through and still went through, month after month. How fucking dare she?
But Sirius said none of this. Instead, he gripped the banister with shaking fingers and jerked his head a little.
“Come on up,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” Remus muttered, and climbed the stairs, passing the long stretch of wall where only a few months ago, dozens of house elf heads had been mounted like macabre trophies of the Black Family treachery. Remus’s black boots thudded heavily with every footfall, and when he reached the landing, he put his suitcase down and allowed Sirius to pull him into a fierce hug.
Sirius gripped Remus’s bony shoulders and felt his ribs through the thin fabric of his bathrobe. The war had been over for nearly 11 months, and although Remus had finally gained some weight back, he still felt far too skinny in Sirius’s arms. At least Sirius was comforted by the knowledge that Moony had always been lanky, with a freakish metabolism that allowed him to devour an entire shepherd’s pie every night for dinner and still look like a plucked chicken.
Remus sighed and rested his head on Sirius’s shoulder.
“She’s an idiot. I hope you know that,” Sirius whispered, but Remus shook his head.
“She’s really not,” Remus mumbled into Sirius’s neck, and hugged him tighter. Sirius wanted to argue, but once again held his tongue. He’d made so much progress lately with his argumentativeness and his pathological need to be right, and he couldn’t fuck it up now.
Instead, he breathed Moony in, let their bodies melt together. Moony smelled like the forest, even now, with the full moon weeks away, and it was such a comforting, familiar scent that Sirius felt his rage at Tabitha start to ebb away and his heart rate slow. It was a good thing, too. Remus could always sniff out Sirius’s moods, and it wouldn’t do him any good if he had to spend his energy calming Sirius, too.
“Which bedroom do you want? Pete’s? Mary's? Reg’s?” Sirius offered, then stopped himself. “Actually, no. You’re sleeping with me.”
“What?” Remus asked, jerking away with a frown. “Why?”
“Because you’re distraught and shouldn’t be alone. And I have a king-sized bed! I won’t even know you’re there!”
“I’ll know you’re there, you’re a thrasher,” Remus said. “Besides, I’m not distraught, Pads, I just need a place to crash.”
But Sirius’s mind was made up.
“Codswollop!” Sirius exclaimed, and Remus laughed.
“Codswollop?” Remus asked.
“Yes, Codswollop! Balderdash! Claptrap! Bosh! Baloney!” Sirius said. “I can keep going all night, you know!”
“Fine!” Remus relented, bending to pick up his suitcase, but Sirius beat him to it. Remus must have put an undetectable extension charm on it because it weighed a fucking ton, and Sirius immediately regretted his decision to be a selfless friend and carry it for him.
“Merlin’s scrotum, what do you have in here, bricks?” Sirius grunted, lugging the thing down the hall.
“Anvils,” Remus answered, and followed Sirius into his bedroom.
Sirius deposited the suitcase at the foot of his bed while Remus kicked off his boots and tossed his robe onto a chaise lounge. Then, they both climbed into bed, with Remus slipping into the spot where Emmeline had been sleeping only an hour or so before.
“Nox,” Sirius muttered, and the wand light extinguished, plunging them into darkness. He felt, rather than saw, Remus settle onto the pillows and pull the blankets over himself.
“Want to talk?” Sirius asked. He could just make out Remus’s shape as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Nah, I’m tired,” Remus yawned. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
“K,” Sirius whispered and laid down. He was tired, too.
A moment passed and Remus spoke again.
“Your sheets smell like perfume,” he said. “Did you have someone over tonight?”
Shit. Of course he could smell Emmeline, Sirius thought. Damn Remus and his fucking werewolf bloodhound nose.
“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” Sirius replied, parroting Remus, who groaned.
“This is gross,” Remus grumbled. “I’m probably laying in bodily fluids.”
“Nothing you haven’t done before.”
“Yeah, but this—”
“Shhh,” Sirius cut him off, kicked him in the shin, and rolled over. “Go to sleep.”
The next morning, Sirius once again woke up alone in bed, but this time, he knew he wasn’t alone in the house. He could hear clattering downstairs.
He found Remus in the kitchen a few minutes later, rifling through the cupboards.
“You’ve lived here for 10 months, and you still don’t have any food in the house,” he said, handing Sirius a cup of tea that he’d made for him.
“Good morning to you, too,” Sirius replied.
“I was going to make us breakfast but there’s nothing but two pieces of stale bread and a jar of pickles,” Remus continued, opening a particularly stark cupboard to illustrate his point. “How are you still alive?”
Remus was still wearing the same white t-shirt and boxers that he’d arrived in the night before, but now he had also added an unbuttoned wool cardigan and a pair of Sirius’s slippers to the ensemble. The effect was oddly endearing, Sirius thought, especially with the fussy little frown that creased his forehead under his curls.
“I eat for free at the St. Mungo’s cafeteria most days,” Sirius shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting down with his tea. “Plus it’s potluck night. I usually survive all week on the leftovers.”
“Yes, but potluck night isn’t until this evening,” Remus fretted, joining him at the kitchen table. “What were you going to eat before then?”
“Bread and pickles?” Sirius replied.
“Padfoot!” Remus said. “You need to eat!”
“I can’t believe you’re lecturing me on eating enough. I can see your ribs through your shirt, Moony.”
Remus looked down at himself, then back up at Sirius, exasperated.
“No, you can’t,” he replied. “Really, though, were you going to eat before tonight?”
“Yes, I was,” Sirius assured him. “In fact, you interrupted my plans to flirt my way into a few day-old crumpets from the bakery girl over on Essex.”
“You’re shameless,” Remus said, shaking his head. “Speaking of girls, whose fluids did I sleep in last night?”
“ Emmeline Vance,” Sirius said.
“Oh! The leggy one with the long hair? She’s too good for you, Pads,” Remus said, refilling his teacup with a wave of his wand.
“Yes, she made that abundantly clear after I paid for dinner and worked my arse off in bed,” Sirius grumbled.
“Feeling a little used?” Remus smirked.
“I wasn’t, but I probably should,” Sirius replied. “Actually, you know what? Yes! I am feeling used. She said she was happy to…how did she put it? Get a couple dinners and ride my broomstick.”
“Colorful language and unflinching honesty,” Remus nodded. “I like her.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” Sirius muttered.
“What did she say, exactly?” Remus asked, but Sirius quickly swallowed a too-hot sip of tea and shook his head, his eyes watering.
“Uh-uh, Moony,” Sirius said. “I’m not telling you what happened with Emmeline until you tell me what happened with Tabitha.”
“I asked first,” Remus countered.
“Doesn’t matter. Emmeline was a one-off. You’ve been with Tabitha for almost three years. Spill.”
Remus sighed and slumped onto the table, his forehead hitting the wood with a pathetic little thud.
“It was bad,” Remus mumbled. “Really bad.”
“Were they…you know…doing it?” Sirius asked, readying himself for the awful answer and trying to quell the hot, acrid anger that was rising up his chest again. “Did you catch them at it?”
Remus shook his head and looked up at Sirius with sad, tired eyes, and Sirius felt his heart break a little. He was sick—so fucking sick—of seeing Remus looking that way.
“No, although I think I would’ve rather that,” he said. “They were waiting for me. To talk to me.”
“You’re kidding!” Sirius said. “Who was he? What did they say?”
“Not he,” Remus replied. “She. Her name is Charity, and she used to run Order missions with Tabitha.”
“Charity…I think I remember her,” Sirius nodded slowly. Order members were scattered across the country, even the continent, and by necessity didn’t all know each other. But Sirius had caught wind of Charity and seen her at meetings here and there. “Specialized in Muggle protection, yeah?”
“Yeah. That’s her,” Remus sighed. “They reconnected recently and…Tabitha says they’re in love. She said she didn’t realize that being in love could feel this way until she met Charity.”
“Oh, Moony,” Sirius whispered, and Remus continued.
“I said, ‘How can you say that, we’ve been together almost three years?’ And she said that we were barely together for the first two years because of the war, and stayed together out of habit after that,” Remus said. “And then she gently reminded me that we haven’t been…intimate in a very long time. And she’s right, we were basically living like roommates.”
“How long’s it been?” Sirius asked. “Since you two have…you know?”
“The last time was a few weeks after coming home from my last peace mission with the packs,” Remus said.
“That was in January!” Sirius said.
“Yep,” Remus nodded. “And then there was one time in December. Before that? I can’t even remember.”
“Damn,” Sirius breathed.
“I know! I couldn’t even argue with her,” Remus said. “To be honest, we’ve never had much of a sex life. It was OK when we first got together, but then it just, you know…fizzled. I always kind of explained it away. We were hardly ever together during the war and when we were, one of us was usually injured or exhausted. But now…”
“So what, they just ambushed you with this?” Sirius asked, again trying to smooth away the rough edges of his anger. “Ganged up on you?”
“No,” Remus said softly with a sad shake of his head. “It wasn’t like that at all. It was kind. And loving. They hadn’t even had sex for the first time until a few days ago. But they’d been having an emotional affair for a while. Tabitha was crying, and Charity said she had too much respect for me and everything I’ve done for the Order not to face me herself.”
“Wow,” Sirius said, feeling impressed against his will.
“Tabitha says she still loves me. But like a brother,” Remus said with a grimace.
“Ouch,” Sirius replied.
“Right? Talk about a gut punch,” Remus said, slumping back into the wooden chair and giving Sirius a helpless look. “She said she didn’t know love or sex could feel like that. Like what? What’s love supposed to feel like, anyhow?”
“No clue,” Sirius said. “You’ll have to ask James and Lily. Or Dorcas and Marlene.”
“Ugh, I’m going to have to tell everyone!” Remus groaned, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. “I don’t know if I have the energy to say it all again.”
“I’ll say it for you if you want,” Sirius told him, and Remus raised an eyebrow.
“You can trust me not to editorialize!” Sirius added, reading Remus’s expression. “I’ll just stick to the facts. I won’t even call Tabitha a cheating bitch like I wanted to last night.”
“Thank you,” Remus said. “She’s a good person. I believed her when she said she never meant for this to happen.”
Sirius nodded and looked at Remus again, really looked at him. He had color and fullness in his cheeks and bright, clear eyes—so different from just a year ago—and although he definitely looked tired, he didn’t look too bad, otherwise.
“I know you’re shocked,” Sirius ventured, “But you seem OK.”
Remus shrugged.
“I dunno. I guess I am OK,” he said. “I haven’t cried yet. Not that there’s much that can make me cry anymore, these days. I suppose I feel shocked, like you said, and a little sad. But maybe not as sad as I should be. I think I’m just gonna miss her, you know? I mean, at the end of the day, she’s one of my best friends. She makes me laugh, we never argued—"
“She never came to potluck night,” Sirius interjected.
“Can you blame her?” Remus asked.
“Umm, yes. We’re delightful,” Sirius said. “People should be knocking down the door to 12 Grimmauld for an invite.”
“We’re an impenetrable social group with our own language and inside jokes,” Remus said. “She never stood a chance.”
“Reg comes sometimes,” Sirius said.
“Reg comes once a month because he knows Lily will hex him if he doesn’t and leaves before dessert.”
Well, Remus had a point, there.
War had been hell, and scattered them all, forcing them apart, demanding that they do unspeakable things. They’d lost friends, family, neighbors, teachers. Remus regularly went deep underground with werewolf packs, falling completely off the grid for long, terrible stretches at a time. James, Lily, and Harry even had to go into hiding for weeks. Not a moment went by when Sirius wasn’t racked with worry, and it took months of peace before the anxious, on-edge knots in his stomach began to loosen a little.
They all came so close to losing everything, to losing each other, but somehow, came through the other side unscathed.
Well, alive, anyhow.
They all decided that they’d never take their friendship for granted, and started getting together for weekly potluck dinners, first at Marlene and Dorcas’s tiny flat, then at Grimmauld Place after Sirius’s parents fled to France when the Ministry started sniffing around for Voldemort supporters after the war. Orion and Walburga took their entire fortune, emptying their Gringotts vault completely, but left Sirius and Regulus their cursed estate, perhaps as one, final “Fuck you” to their Mudblood-loving sons.
“Still, she could have made a little effort and come to dinner once in a while,” Sirius told Remus. “Now that the war is over and—"
“Padfoot, it’s not about effort,” Remus replied. “She’s just not in love with me.”
“In that case, I stand by what I said last night,” Sirius said, feeling a little indignant again. “She’s an idiot. How could she not be in love with you? Hell, I’m a little in love with you.”
Remus’s face blanched in surprise, but only for a moment. A second later, his expression softened into a sweet little smile that crinkled his dark, honey brown eyes and made Sirius’s stomach feel soft and melty. It reminded Sirius of sharing a bed with Moony when they were kids at Hogwarts; of the soft, dopey way Remus’s eyes fluttered open and struggled to focus on Sirius’s face on mornings after the full moon; and later, of sharing moldy cots in freezing tents or crashing on disgusting floors of abandoned tenements during Order missions. They’d fall asleep whispering together and holding hands, desperate to feel some semblance of warmth and safety and home while the war raged around them like an angry sea tossing tiny boats in a storm.
“Thanks, Pads,” Remus whispered before perking up again. “Anyhow. Want to go flirt our way into some crumpets? You can tell me all about Emmeline on the way.”
“Us and our girl problems,” Sirius sighed.
*******
“They’re bad! But you have to tell her they’re good.”
James grabbed Sirius’s shoulder in a vice grip and hissed wildly into his ear. Potluck night was already off to a rollicking start, and they hadn’t even told anyone about Remus and Tabitha yet.
“What are you—” Sirius started, before his eyes fell on Lily, who walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place a few steps behind James. She was carrying a long tray covered in aluminum foil and holding little Harry’s hand.
“I made aloo parathas for the first time!” Lily announced, crossing the kitchen to give Sirius a kiss on the cheek while James attempted an innocent smile.
“Hey, Padfoot,” she said, then walked away to put the parathas on the long wooden kitchen table that was already set for eight people, plus a high chair for Harry.
James turned back to Sirius and widened his eyes absurdly and meaningfully.
“Tell Remus, too,” James whispered, moving his lips as little as possible through a wooden smile. He looked absolutely deranged. “Then tell him to tell everyone else. He has the quietest voice.”
“OK,” Sirius nodded solemnly. “I’ll tell Remus to tell everyone that Lily’s parathas suck and not to eat them, got it.”
James looked as though he was about to have an aneurism.
“Oooh, they look…” Mary said, the excitement in her voice fading as she peeked under the foil at the parathas. She twirled a shiny black ringlet around her index finger as she searched for the right word. “Oblong.”
“I’ve been trying to teach myself how to make them since Effie died,” Lily said. “I’m still getting the hang of it, but I think it’s important to carry on her traditions.”
“And I’ve been telling you, sweetie, that I know how to make all of mum’s recipes already!” James insisted. He released Sirius, who rubbed his painful shoulder, and wrapped an arm around Lily’s waist. “Her traditions are in good hands.”
“Yes, but what if you get hit by a butterbeer truck?” Lily asked. “What it Voldemort had offed you on Halloween? You’d have taken everything to the grave. More than one person needs to know. In fact…”
Lily spun around as Remus walked into the kitchen and pulled him into a quick hug.
“I think I should teach you, too, Moony,” she said. “You’re always cooking for Tabitha, I bet she’ll love it.”
Remus’s eyes darted to Sirius, who nodded bracingly, even as his heart crumbled a little for his friend.
“Actually,” Remus said quietly, talking to Lily but still looking at Sirius. “Padfoot has a little story to tell you about Tabitha.”
Half hour later, they were all gathered around the long, wooden kitchen table, passing plates while Sirius told everyone what happened. Remus mostly looked at his food, pushing around the steak and kidney pie that Pete had made, but not eating it.
“Damn,” James said, shaking his head when Sirius finished. “Sorry, Moony.”
“Are you alright?” Lily asked, leaning over to give Remus a hug.
“Yeah, I’m alright, thanks, Lils,” Remus replied.
“Wow, did you ever peg Tabitha as one of us?” Dorcas asked Marlene, who gave the question serious thought.
“I hadn’t before,” Marlene replied, staring into the distance with a blank expression and then nodding. “But I can definitely see it now.”
“Remind me which one Charity is?” Mary said.
“Tall, dark hair. Muggle protection squad,” Pete said. “Nice arse, right?”
“Yes,” Dorcas and Marlene said at once, then looked at each other and started laughing.
“Hey!” Sirius scolded them. “We’re in a mourning period, here. Keep the arse talk at home.”
“Sorry, Moony,” Dorcas said.
“Yeah, sorry, Rem,” Marlene said.
“It’s fine,” Remus muttered.
“I don’t understand!” Lily said. “You’ve been so sweet and thoughtful to her, Remus. Always planning fun things, taking her places. Making her favorite meals. You were just the best!”
“Yeah, the best brother,” Remus said bitterly.
“I still can’t believe she said that, man,” James said, shaking his head as he spooned himself another helping of Dorcas’s mashed potatoes. “Absolutely uncalled for.”
“So, what do you want us to do?” Marlene asked in an undertone, her eyes sparking mischievously. Of all their friends, Marlene was the one Sirius suspected actually kind of missed parts of the war. Not the part about their friends dying, of course. But probably the fighting and running parts. “We could dungbomb Tabitha’s flat. Or put the Gemino curse on every piece of paper in her office. Or! How about this? We could tell Charity that Tabitha has spattergroit!”
“We could actually give her spattergroit,” Dorcas said.
“Oooh, I like it!” Marlene said.
“Gross!” Mary exclaimed.
“What?” Dorcas replied, looking around the table defensively. “We’re studying the biology of how the disease multiplies at work. I have access to spores.”
“That’s one way to make fungal research more interesting,” Pete said.
“It’ll be a controlled sample of one,” Dorcas laughed.
“I’m telling your boss on you!” Mary said, and Marlene chucked one of Lily’s parathas at her like a Frisby.
“Hey!” Lily said. “Those took me hours!”
“And they’re amazing,” Mary shrieked, laughing as she ducked. The paratha landed in the fireplace with a heavy thunk and was immediately set alight.
“Mama’s bread is burning again!” Harry cried, pointing while James shushed him.
“Anyhow, Moony, I still think you were the best boyfriend ever,” Lily insisted, grasping Remus’s hand.
“Yeah, besides the sex part,” Remus said. “On that front, I am pitiful, apparently.”
“Stop! You’re being too hard on yourself,” Lily said. “I’m sure you were great!”
“No, I don’t think so, actually,” Remus sighed. “I feel like I was always putting in a lot of effort for not much…payoff, so to speak.”
“Funny, Padfoot has the opposite problem,” James laughed.
“How do you know about Emmeline?” Sirius snapped, staring at James across the table. “It only happened last night.”
“I don’t know anything about Emmeline,” James said. “I’ve just seen you in action.”
“Emmeline, as in Emmeline Vance?” Marlene asked, and Sirius nodded.
“I love her!” Marlene cried, slapping the table. Harry laughed and slapped his high chair table, too, and Marlene gave him a high five.
“Oh, Merlin, me too! She is so, so funny!” Mary gushed. “I’m obsessed with her photos in Witch Weekly.”
“And she dresses amazing!” Dorcas added before turning to Sirius with an impressed look on her face. “Did you take her out?”
“Yep.”
“Wow! Good for you!”
“No! It wasn’t good for me,” Sirius corrected her, and explained what happened.
“Yikes,” James said when Sirius finished. “Rough night in the love department for the canine contingent of the Marauders.”
“Huh,” Pete said out of nowhere, spearing one of Mary’s Brussels sprouts onto his fork.
“What?” Sirius asked.
“It’s kind of funny, really,” Pete said. “You and Remus put together could make one perfect boyfriend. You should date the same girl and each trade off on what you’re good at.”
“Yeah, so funny, Wormtail,” Sirius spat, and Remus looked like he wanted to slap Pete upside the head.
But Lily spoke up first.
“Or, instead,” she said innocently, looking between Remus and Sirius and nibbling the edge of one of her extra-crispy parathas. “Maybe you could teach each other a thing or two.”