Archive of Our Own

Sirius was expecting it, the knock that came just a week after he published his third book. Then again, he’d expected it after his second, and his first, and every time his hopes had been crushed beneath whichever guest or stranger he’d found outside his door.

Attempting not to be overly optimistic, he tucked his phone into his pocket and forced his walk to remain casual. A second set of knocks echoed out before he could reach the door and he smirked slightly as he pulled it open.

This time, he wasn’t disappointed.

Remus didn’t say anything, just staring from the step outside the entrance, amber eyes just bright enough to look uncanny. Sirius felt his stomach swirl with emotion: excitement, anticipation, far too much relief. And above all, desire.

The desire to have Remus close, to not let him leave. The desire to hold him and talk and smile, the desire for what they once had. The desire and the need for it back.

Sirius let his smirk grow, a cocky expression to hide his inner turmoil.

“You know the ‘needing permission to enter’ thing is a myth, right?”

“I’m being polite. Maybe you could stand to do the same.”

And oh.

The first time he’d heard Remus’ voice in a decade and it was just as effective as it was in the early days. Low and slightly rough, but somehow sliding smoothly from his lips like molten lava. Destructive and blazing.

Destructive for Sirius, at least. He liked to think himself a reasonable man, at least since he’d aged. Maybe not once, but now he was solidly in his late-thirties and sensibility was an unfortunate part of life. But for that voice? For him? Sirius was willing to do anything he asked, no matter how severe. That was where the danger lay, and it was a danger he welcomed freely.

“Oh, well then. My apologies. Please, do come in.” He stood to the side and let Remus pass, the motion followed by a breath of wind that smelt vaguely of smoke.

The next time he spoke, Remus’ voice was amused, “That was politer than I remember you being.”

“Well, I’m good at learning, aren’t I?”

“You certainly are.” Remus raised an eyebrow, face half turned towards him. The reminder of their past was not lost on him, Sirius was certain, but they both continued the polite façade of distance. As though they were reunited acquaintances and nothing more.

“Was that really your best plan?” Remus tipped his head, a stray curl falling into his eyes and Sirius biting back the urge to fix it. He stayed where he was, closing the door and lingering across the room.

“What plan?”

“Your books?”

He made a short gesture, “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Vampire novels. Really.” Remus sounded so distinctly unimpressed and Sirius grinned. “You’re well aware that humans aren’t supposed to know we exist. You aren’t.”

“And yet I do.”

“And yet you do.” Remus agreed, sighing, “A decision I question daily.”

“You regret telling me?” He knew he should, that Sirius knowing would cause waves if certain vampires got wind of it.

Remus glanced at him with a heavy look, but not a regretful one, and didn’t answer. That was a response in itself, Sirius satisfied with the knowledge that Remus wasn’t able to stir up the guilt he was supposed to feel.

“I doubt that my books will be convincing anyone of your existence.”

Remus hummed scornfully, “I doubt it too.”

There was a heavy break in conversation, Remus holding back the thoughts Sirius knew were there and Sirius waiting for him to snap. He was just as good at reading the other as he used to be, as became apparent when he saw Remus’ muscles tense for a split second before he groaned lowly and began his complaints.

“Those books were awful, Sirius, none of that shit was accurate.”

“I know.” He was smug and he knew that was reflected in his demeanour.

“Every single thing that could possibly be incorrect was in there, and barely any of the real stuff. I mean sure, your ‘vampires’ – if they can be called that – drank blood, but that was practically the only relatable thing!”

“I know.” Still smug.

“They were flouncing around the place, all torn up about the wrong things and ignoring any actual issues, and even the small things–!” He broke off to bury his head in his hands, “Like, really? Invisible in mirrors, combusting in sunlight, needing an invitation to enter anywhere? The fucking crosses? That’s bullshit and you know it!”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know! So why? Why write such ridiculous things?”

Sirius looked at him, really looked, and Remus took that as the answer it was.

“Was that really the only way you could think of to get me back?”

“Well I doubt asking would’ve worked.”

It came out harsher than he intended, a searing flash of hurt embedded into the words. He saw the effect they had on Remus, the grimace and the tightening of fists where they clutched at the hem of his jumper.

“I knew it would get you back here. If it got stupid enough.”

Remus’ face twisted into an extreme sort of bafflement, “You thought that writing vampires badly would be enough to get me here? You think I’m that shallow?”

“Not shallow,” Sirius shook his head, “picky. Or easily frustrated by misinformation, even when the world isn’t supposed to know the truth. I sat by you during all those teen vampire shows, I know it irritates you, even if it’s funny. I thought that if it came from me, it would be worse.”

Remus blew out a long breath, one of those habits he had despite not necessarily needing to breathe outside of getting air for conversation.

“It was.”

“It was worse?”

“Yes, Sirius, it was worse.” If Sirius’ words had been harsh with pain, Remus’ were infused with a pitiful agony, “I had told you things about me, about my kind, out of trust and at my own risk. And you made a mockery of it.”

“Careful, that’s my writing you’re on about.”

He was met with a flat look, “So you don’t want my criticism?”

“I wanted you. I know it wasn’t the most tasteful way to get you here, but it worked.”

“‘Wasn’t the most tasteful’ is a generous way to refer to it.”

“I know.”

For a moment, Sirius was convinced that Remus was going to do something. He wasn’t sure what that something was, but he saw the initial reaction of flexing muscles when he repeated ‘I know’ for the countless time. An insolent response, and one he was using purposefully. He needed Remus to stay, to keep talking. He only had one angle to work with, and he needed to keep it going. Remus couldn’t leave again.

When Remus finally broke the silence that had settled, just moments before Sirius could do the same in his desperation, he changed the topic quite thoroughly.

“You’re older.”

“Humans do that.”

“We look the same age now.”

Sirius was fully aware of this. Remus had been turned at thirty-five, and Sirius was thirty-seven. He ignored how awfully aware he’d been of their ages even while they were apart. On the day that he turned thirty-five, the same age as he knew Remus physically was, he’d holed himself up in his house and cried into a bottle of wine.

Remus shifted, no longer content to be so far away. He stopped just a few steps away from Sirius.

“Your hair’s still all black though.”

“Yeah, well. Not everyone starts greying prematurely.” Sirius found his eyes straying to the odd strands of grey hair tucked away amongst Remus’ brown, enough for it to be noticeable.

Remus huffed at him, not a noise of genuine irritation, but almost affectionate. Sirius’ pulse increased and he prayed Remus wasn’t paying enough attention to notice. Judging by the way his eyelids flickered, eyes flashing just minutely, Sirius hadn’t been so lucky.

“Well.” Remus stated, looking at Sirius.

“Well,” he echoed back.

“I’m here now.”

Sirius nodded, “You are.”

“What do you want me for? Why did you try and get me back?”

“I didn’t try, I succeeded.” Sirius corrected primly, still trying to remain composed even with Remus’ gaze on him, listening to his heart race. “And I just– I wanted you back. I have for years, you know that, right?”

Remus’ expression clouded, stiff and guarded within the blink of an eye.

“I left for a reason, Sirius.”

“Your reason was bullshit, you know it was bullshit!” Sirius snarled right back, his temper flaring up just as quickly as it always had, wanting to claw and fight and scream until his point was made.

“I’m a monster.” Remus seemed to remain grave and unruffled. Sirius hated that mask almost as much as he hated the words he’d said.

“No, you’re not. I told you that then, and I’m telling you now! You are not.”

“I drink blood, Sirius, I’m not human. What other definition could that have?”

Sirius tensed his jaw furiously, chest heaving as he did his very best to think through the fog of anger. It wasn’t Remus’ insecurity he was upset at, it never had been. It infuriated him that he thought such a thing, that he had been told so enough for it to remain lodged in his mind, but he wasn’t mad at Remus for that.

He was mad at Remus for leaving, for loving him so dearly and then leaving. For ruining his relationships forever with the knowledge of how incredible they could be, and tearing it away with a sudden and senseless cruelty.

“You’re a vampire, not a monster, not when you see monsters as awful. That isn’t you, you aren’t awful.”

“Sirius–“

“No! Shut up, shut the fuck up!” Sirius closed the gap between them, tears clinging to his eyelashes, “You’re full of this self-pitying shit, always saying that you’re this awful, monstrous being, but you don’t hurt people, not really. Sure, you feed, but you don’t kill, not purposefully! You’re kind, and funny, and you wear knitted jumpers even when they’re impractical, and you’re so far from scary that it’s almost hilarious that you think you are!”

“You don’t think I’m scary?” There was a quiet sensitivity to Remus’ voice, and Sirius felt something in his chest splinter.

“I never have! Why would you think I have?” He wasn’t shouting, not anymore. But his voice was still strained, a regular volume with all the stress of a scream.

Remus bit at his own lip, fangs hidden, and he spoke.

“You were young–“

“I was twenty-five. I had a job, and a fucking house.”

“A house you shared with two friends.”

“A house! I had a house, and a career, and I sure as hell wasn’t some sort of naive child, you know that!”

“I do know that, but Sirius–“

“But what? But what? Nothing you can say here makes what you did any better.”

“I know, believe me, I do.” Remus sounded choked, throat closed around the words that were doing their best to force their way out. “I know you weren’t a child, far from it. You were an adult that was only just figuring things out. I couldn’t ruin that for you, and I would’ve if I had stayed.”

“How would you have ruined it?”

“You’re not supposed to know about me, no humans are. If I’d stayed, you would’ve had to lie to people about me, about who I was.”

Sirius laughed lowly, “And what gave you the impression that I cared?”

With the cadence of a man desperate for someone to understand his point, Remus gestured wildly towards himself, the most dramatic thing he’d done yet.

“I’m a monster!”

“Would you stop with that!” Sirius returned just as loudly, then continued after calming himself, “You’re not, and even if you are, you couldn’t make that decision for me. That was my choice to make.”

Remus looked at him, blinking hurriedly to keep his own tears at bay. Sirius wanted to see them spill, to see proof that Remus felt even a fraction of the tidal wave inside of him, an ebbing and flowing ache that had become a permanent staple of his life. Even now, even with him nearby, it hurt more than ever, crashing up against his ribcage.

“You wanted me to stay? You still do?”

Sirius scoffed, the audacity of the question so comical it stung.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Remus had the decency to look ashamed, “I thought… at first, maybe you’d be upset. But then you’d realise that you were better off without someone like me.”

“‘Someone like you.’” Sirius mocked, lips curled into a snarl, “You’re kidding, right? I never wanted you gone, no matter how much time passed. I’ve always wanted you Remus, I’ve wanted you since I met you and probably before that too. I need you in my life Remus. And you left.”

Remus’ lips had dropped into an ‘o’, a silent shock as horror and regret swam across his features, finally – finally – understanding why Sirius was so torn up, why he’d put so much effort into getting him back.

“You want me– still?”

“Yes.” Sirius stressed, determined beyond belief to have it embedded into Remus’ head. And with that word, it seemed to settle and stick.

“Oh.”

Sirius nodded triumphantly, a sick mixture of victory and rage writhing through him.

“Shit, Sirius, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to.”

“Why did you then?” He asked, internally scrambling for some semblance of self-control as he fought the urge to sob at the words, trying to hold himself together even as the pieces of him fell through his fingers like sand.

“I thought I had to. And when I started to question my decision after leaving, I thought you’d have already realised you’re better off without me.”

“I’m not.” Sirius interrupted, “You’re still talking like I am better off without you, I’m not. I need you.”

“Right.” Remus said, and his voice cracked, “Right. Yeah. But you’re not?”

It sounded like a question, some desperate grab for validation that he was willing to provide, “Of course I’m not better off. Don’t even think for a moment, that I could do without you, okay?”

“But I left, and you’re here, and you’re fine.”

“I’m here. And I’m as fine as I could be, but not as good as I would be if you had stayed. You understand that?” He stared at Remus, “I can live without you, and I can be content, but I still need you. I need you to feel truly happy, truly fulfilled. Maybe every other aspect of my life is perfect, my friends and my career and my home, but I’ve not been really happy without you. There’s been a hole, Remus, and I’ve needed you.”

Remus pressed his lips together, separating them just long enough to spit out a defeated, stuttered curse, and then he was tugging Sirius into a hug.

They hadn’t been far apart to begin with but Remus yanked with force, sending Sirius flying into his chest, and he held tightly. It was familiar, no matter how long it had been. That faint smoky smell was far stronger now, where Sirius had his face tucked against Remus’ neck, alongside a musty warmth and the scent of a faint artificial laundry liquid still lingering on his jumper. Sirius melted into the embrace without so much as thinking about it.

It was then that Sirius spoke, whispering directly into Remus’ ear.

“Stay. Stay right here, please?”

When he felt Remus stiffen, he gripped tighter, his own arms slung around Remus’ waist.

“Who else can make sure my books stay accurate, hm?”

Remus stayed tense for just a moment longer before relaxing, his responding speech sending a faint rumble through his chest.

“Well. If it’s for the books then I suppose I must.”

Sirius chuckled, tender and still oh so quiet.

“Exactly.”

It wasn’t easy, of course it wasn’t. They’d been apart for so long that, no matter how familiar the other felt, they still had to accommodate for the many changes. Sirius’ changes especially.

Remus was much the same. He had a few more learned experiences and was rather good on the guitar now, something he’d promised Sirius he’d learn eleven years ago and yet never did. Sirius hoped that he learned because of that promise, because Sirius was still on his mind, even while they were apart.

Remus had assured him countless times that he’d never forgotten him, that he’d been just as distraught as Sirius had been. Sirius chose to believe it, he needed it to be true. He needed Remus to be just as gone for him as he was in return.

He looked the same, as Sirius had expected; vampires didn’t age. But he had a look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, a faint distress whenever Sirius wasn’t nearby when he expected him to be, like he was scared of Sirius leaving in the same manner as he had. Wordlessly and brutally.

On some of his more bitter days, Sirius would linger out of Remus’ sight just to see that look. To see the reassurance that Remus was hurt too, that their separation was an issue for the both of them. On his better ones, he would call out before Remus could reach the point of panic. He was sure they balanced each other out.

Sirius had changed significantly.

He looked different, light wrinkles gracing his face and tattoos covering more of his skin than before. His clothes were calmer, more colour and less risqué.

His entire life was different too. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Remus it was brilliant aside from his absence.

Writing had done him well, books taking off more than expected and earning him a comfortable amount. He had his own home, furnished with care and the memory of woollen blankets and bookshelves. In a way, Remus was reflected just as much as he was, if there was any difference between the two of them. Sometimes Sirius wondered if their tastes had merged, simply from how he would love things solely for the fact that Remus would.

James and Peter had stayed in his life, even when they stopped living together. James had gotten married and introduced Sirius to even more wonderful people, and named him godfather of little Harry.

In every other way, he was fulfilled – he had friends, hobbies, a stable career – and now it was time for Remus to be integrated into those sides of his life. He didn’t want to admit how terrifying of a concept that was.

James and Peter had known Remus before, they’d been his friends. They weren’t privy to his true nature, but they’d loved him almost as strongly and unerringly as Sirius has.

They were relieved to see him again, but the sting of his betrayal ran deep and it took a long few months for them to be comfortable around him, and many tear-filled nights of heavy conversation and apologies.

Remus met everyone else. He learnt the names of Sirius’ publishers. They thought of an idea for a new novel together, one free from the awful vampire characterisation of the previous trilogy.

But even after so long, there was a gap between them.

They hadn’t stepped back into their relationship from before, holding each other at arms length as though that could stop them from being hurt again, as though either of them would ever allow themselves to hurt the other.

They hadn’t kissed. They barely held each other. Remus didn’t mention where he went when he slipped out of the house to find someone to feed on, and Sirius didn’t ask. Remus stayed in the guest room, but when outside of it he didn’t let Sirius out of his sight, and Sirius did much the same.

He hated it, hated the distance. It was a cloying taste in his throat, pushing him closer to breaking with each carefully selected word and danced around topic. Sirius was desperate for their past relationship, craving it like it was his air, his oxygen. The gap between them felt painfully prominent as they continued to exist together, living in the same house after Remus confessed that he had yet to settle anywhere.

Remus would make him a drink in the morning. He would wash his clothes and watch shitty films without complaint simply because Sirius liked them. But he wouldn’t go further than that, nothing truly affectionate.

Sirius felt like he was bleeding out. His hope slowly spilling and staining the floorboards of the home they so tentatively occupied.

But even as his hope dwindled, it never truly extinguished. Because he knew, in a way that couldn’t be taken from him, that Remus was his, and he was Remus’ in return. There wasn’t anything that could change that, no amount of years apart or stiff interactions. It was the two of them, just as it had been and just as it would be.

No matter how many things reminded Sirius that they’d been separated for so long, there were countless more that pulled on the time they spent together.

The collection of jumpers strewn around his house, like they were always meant to be there. The laugh that would bubble out of Remus when he was caught off-guard by one of Sirius’ comments, and the scrunch of his nose that preceded it. The wide-eyed shock when there was a twist in whatever book he was reading, selected from Sirius’ shelf with utmost care.

There was the exasperation that came as they wrote together, Sirius with a laptop cradled in his lap on one end of the sofa and Remus curled up on the other. That arrangement had come about from Remus’ sheer disgust at his previous interpretation of vampirism, and he insisted that he must try to help, to repair what Sirius had put into the world through his next novel.

Sirius had no problem with that, of course. He’d rather expected it to happen after his first publication, but better late than never.

Remus was flicking through his own copy of Sirius’ last book, annotations scrawled in the margin. The fact that he had cared enough to go through it with meticulous care, highlighting and complaining in tiny letters, made Sirius’ stomach clench.

“And this!” He gestured towards the book with a grimace, “This just isn’t correct at all.”

“I can’t even see what you’re on about.” Sirius chuckled, and Remus shifted to point the book in his direction, letting him read the passage.

“That’s not what it’s like to be drank from, not at all!” Remus was complaining, and Sirius laughed at him. “Don’t laugh! It’s so bad, why would it feel like–“ he paused to read, quoting the words exactly, “‘A warm hug’? Your blood is being drained! It’s not a fucking hug, it’s painful!”

Sirius didn’t stop laughing, unable to control his amusement as Remus looked at him with sheer disbelief, shaking the book in agitation.

“Well, I was trying to make it bad! Besides, I didn’t have anything to base it off of, did I?” Sirius sniffed, “You always refused to drink from me.”

“Yes, because it hurts.” Remus rolled his eyes, “You know that damn well.”

“And you know that I still want you to!”

Remus froze for a second and Sirius’ words settled over them like a thick fog. Sirius belatedly realised what he’d said, how he’d spoken a bit too truthfully and mistakenly forgone all presence of it being a past mindset. The word ‘still’ hung in the air, and Sirius watched Remus process it.

“You said that like… you still want that.” Remus swallowed.

Sirius watched his throat bob and the way his eyes had started to glance around the room, a nervous habit. Weighing up his own options, he inhaled.

What could he say? That yes, he did, he always had. That the pain had never sounded off-putting because it was part of Remus, and why would any part of him scare Sirius? Why wouldn’t he take it with open arms, with an easy acceptance of all he could do to him? That was the truth, but it felt risky to say. Too honest, considering the careful line they’d been treading.

But Sirius was sick of that care. He craved the rush, the inherent insanity of entering a relationship such as theirs and the freefall that came with it.

“I do.”

Remus swallowed again, a shaky attempt at self control. “You do?”

“Is that not obvious, Remus?”

“I don’t think many people are falling over themselves to be eaten, Sirius.”

“I asked you to so many times. So many, Remus.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

The mixture of tenses didn’t escape his notice, lines blurring between the past and present. Good.

“I know enough.”

“Sirius.” Remus warned, clearly holding on by a thread. His pupils had widened, the amber of his eyes nearly wholly hidden by the darkness. It was a look Sirius recognised viscerally, but had never resulted in anything but sex.

He didn’t want that outcome now – not that he’d be opposed – but he wanted the worst of Remus. He wanted to lure out that monstrosity that Remus was so frightened of, to see it in its entirety and beckon it in. He wanted each and every aspect of Remus all to himself, including the bits that Remus had tried so desperately to shield him from.

Sirius needed to have the parts of Remus that had been the reason for his abandonment. Then Remus couldn’t claim he was too evil, too inhuman for Sirius. Because Sirius would’ve known it all already, and no amount of insecurity could change the inherent fact that he was okay with it all. More than okay, really, he loved everything about Remus, because those were the pieces that made him. How could he hate the very building blocks that comprised the man he loved?

“Remus.” Sirius whispered back, tilting his head just so and exposing his neck. Remus watched the movement with unnerving stillness and Sirius’ heart beat faster. “Go on.”

“I can’t.”

“Well,” Sirius said with a voice of mock finality, a harsh juxtaposition to their gentle whispering, “guess all my characters are doomed to only the most warm and lovely vampire bites then!”

Remus rolled his eyes, the act of tearing them away from Sirius visibly straining him, but of course he had to react when he was being made fun of. “You’re awful.”

“Yep. And you’re going to bite me, right?”

Remus managed a breath, shuddery and long. “Right.”

That confirmation spread a smile across Sirius’ face, though he did his best to reign himself in and not appear too unhinged. With the way Remus shook his head, amused though still tense, he gathered that he was not masking his excitement well.

“You should not be so pleased about this.”

Sirius shrugged, “Well.”

“Well.”

And then Remus was moving closer, carefully and slowly. Like each movement had to be meticulously mapped out before it could occur. He ended up right next to Sirius, then frowned.

“What?” Sirius’ stomach dropped at the expression. He was so close.

“Not here.”

“Not here?”

Remus chewed at his own lip and Sirius saw that his fangs were showing. He couldn’t help but stare at where the flash of enamel had been, hoping to see it again.

“I don’t mean to sound presumptuous–“

“You’re literally about to suck my blood.”

“Okay.” Remus laughed nervously, “You’re right. It’s just that sometimes this takes a lot out of people and I’m not sure a sofa is a good place for that.”

“My bed?” Sirius offered, holding back the jokes he wanted to make. He had a feeling that wasn’t what Remus needed.

“Please.” Remus breathed out in clear relief, so Sirius stood up to lead the way.

It felt less awkward than it should’ve done, clambering into bed together. But it was Remus, and Sirius was full of too much anticipation to be put off by anything.

Sirius sort of wanted to lay right on top of Remus, but the other waited for him to be settled first and so that option was taken from him. Instead he tucked himself neatly into the centre of the bed, cushioned comfortably, and waited for Remus to lay beside him. When he did, he tucked himself closer, slotting into place by Remus’ side. If Remus was surprised by that choice, he didn’t show it.

And then Remus was talking again.

“Are you sure about this? Really sure?”

“Yes.” Sirius groaned, incredibly done with how concerned Remus seemed to be for his well-being. He would be fine, though that was being called into question the longer he had to wait.

Remus huffed a laugh, clearly placated by his certainty, and then Sirius felt a breath ghost over his throat.

His own breath caught, his thoughts running wild and tangled in the feeling. Remus didn’t need to breathe, he never had, but he was and Sirius could feel it. Was it purposeful? Did he see the goosebumps racing over Sirius’ skin, the shiver that it elicited? Did it even matter why, if it was making Sirius dizzy with want?

Everything got considerably more intense when he felt the press of teeth, two sharp points digging lightly into his skin, stretching it into subtle indents but not yet breaking the surface. Giving him space, again. Sirius pushed closer with a small noise, one he couldn’t quite cut off before it was escaping, and he felt the moment Remus’ control snapped.

With a piercing pain and pressure, Remus bit him. Sirius couldn’t help the gasp that it tore from his throat, nor how unsteady his breathing became in its stead, the feeling beyond overwhelming.

It did hurt, Remus hadn’t been lying about that. An icy, throbbing ache that began in his neck and spread down his veins, reaching throughout his body and making his fingertips tingle with a strange sensation. It wasn’t especially pleasant in itself, the discomfort of his blood draining from him leaving him oddly cold, but the sounds that it was dragging out of Remus made it instantly worth it.

He could feel the tackiness of blood beginning to congeal on his neck, the drops Remus had missed sliding down to the collar of his shirt. Remus was letting out low moans of appreciation, tongue pressed into Sirius’ skin to catch as much as he could. Sirius would be lying if he said that wasn’t having some sort of effect on him, though maybe it shouldn’t have been.

At some point, he became acutely aware of his hand gripping tightly to Remus’ shirt, fisting it violently and creasing the fabric. Remus in turn had an arm around Sirius, one hand cradling the top of his head and the other flat against his stomach. Sirius grabbed for the latter with his free hand, palm sliding over Remus’ skin and feeling it rise and fall with Sirius’ breaths, stuttering and fast.

Eventually, Remus detached his fangs, sliding them out with one final swallow and licking over the wound, helping it heal. Sirius tried to catch his breath, chest heaving. The barrier between them was finally crossed in a way that it hadn’t ever been, even before, and Sirius couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful.

“Shit.” Remus said, his voice slurred and blissful. He buried his face right where he had bitten, nuzzling the skin as Sirius chuckled.

“Good?”

“Shush.” Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’ neck, somehow breezing right over that choice of action as though it hadn’t made Sirius’ heart skip five beats. “You know it was good, you don’t have to sound so smug.”

“I told you.” Despite Remus’ words, he did sound smug. How couldn’t he?

“You did.” Remus hummed, then pulled back a little, “How are you? Feeling okay?”

“I’m fantastic.” Sirius grinned, feeling successful and wonderfully floaty. The way Remus was looking down at him wasn’t helping matters either, all soft and happy and flushed pink from Sirius’ blood. Sirius’ blood that was now running through his veins, and oh wasn’t that a lovely image.

Remus’ brow creased, “Think about it properly please.”

Sirius huffed and then complied. “I feel a bit lightheaded. And tired.”

“That makes sense.” Remus nodded at him, then started to move. Sirius whined at the shift.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get you something to eat or drink. Do you have juice in your fridge?”

“Why?”

“You’ve just lost a lot of fluids. You know how people get juice after they donate blood? It’s just that.”

Sirius made a noise of recognition and slumped even further into the pillows, rolling off of Remus so he could stand. “Oh okay. That sounds good actually.”

Remus returned in mere seconds, a glass of juice in hand and watching Sirius carefully sit up so that he could drink. It did help, though he still felt rather exhausted.

Remus returned to his spot by Sirius, tucking himself close and placing his arm back around him. He’d made an attempt to wipe the blood from his mouth but there were still tinges of a glorious red, and when he smiled, Sirius could see a faint discolouration between his teeth. The fangs were gone again though, which he wasn’t pleased about.

“How’re you feeling?” Remus asked again, though judging by the grin on his face, Sirius imagined he must’ve looked rather content.

“Good. Very good.” Sirius nodded, and Remus snorted.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so flippant about being bitten by a vampire.”

“I think they’d be out there if you looked harder.” Sirius pointed out, and Remus tilted his head in acknowledgement. “And besides, you’ve never met anyone like me.”

“That’s true.” Remus looked at him then, something fierce yet delicate in his eyes, “You’re one of a kind.”

“In a good way?”

“Of course.”

Sirius smiled up at him then pressed closer with a yawn, wilfully succumbing to the tiredness that had been pulling at him. With Remus’ hand carding through his hair, he slept deeply and woke feeling perfectly rested.

Something did change after that, which he predicted and was so very thankful for. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, in a way, now that he didn’t have to concern himself over whether Remus would let himself be comfortable in his home. Since he’d gone the full mile and literally drank from Sirius, he’d started to become more settled when it came to showing his vampirism.

It wasn’t like he had hidden it – not from Sirius at least – considering how they talked about it frequently. But actually acting on those instincts? Allowing himself to show the inhuman side of him? That had been buried deep, now finally allowed free.

Sirius had seen Remus with his fangs showing more often than ever before, which he was thrilled about. A lower lip pushed slightly down and a flash of teeth with each small movement of his mouth. Sirius was well aware that he found it attractive, which he probably would have found more concerning if not for his awareness of how many people agreed with that notion. Publishing a vampire novel had opened his eyes far too much to certain internet spaces.

He hadn’t bitten him again, which was more disappointing than Sirius had been prepared for, but he took it in stride and spent only half of his time trying to make Remus regret that oversight. But it seemed no amount of low necklines and loose collars were going to break Remus’ resolve, and Sirius ended up moping instead.

He wondered if that avoidance was born from the tension that had been strengthening between them – already too much before the bite and worse after, permeating the air in every room they shared. One night, Remus had fallen asleep on the sofa while they watched a film and Sirius felt like something had been torn from his chest, messy and gory and belonging entirely to the man beside him. Remus had sighed contentedly in his sleep, resulting in Sirius leaving the room entirely and praying for his sanity.

The prayers did not feel like they were working. With every day, he fell further and further into the feeling of Remus’ eyes on him, into the sound of his laughter and the comfort of his presence.

He knew the feeling of course, it was unnervingly familiar. But what he couldn’t handle was doing nothing about it.

He had no way to try and show the feelings that clung to him like smoke. He couldn’t let any of the words spill from his lips, or touch Remus in the way he wanted to. He found himself in a state of limbo, trying to figure out what lines he could cross in the strange friendship they’d built. They weren’t really ‘just friends’ – he’d never managed to be ‘just friends’ with Remus. But they weren’t more.

It wasn’t sustainable, and that became apparent all too fast. Perhaps that feigned ignorance of their dynamic could’ve continued, shaky and dangerous, if it hadn’t been for an unfortunate encounter Sirius had while walking back from the pub.

The gathering was small, comprised of only Marlene, Peter, and Sirius. Everyone else was busy with parenting, work, or other trivial bothers, and Remus was too caught up in a new book he’d found to bother dragging himself out of the house. Neither Peter nor Marlene lived in the same direction as him, so he was left to go home alone. Sirius was hoping the fifteen-minute walk would help sober him up entirely, no matter how nice the slightly tipsy buzzing in his veins was. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he was around Remus with even slightly lowered inhibitions, considering how his sober self had already made decisions that were – in hindsight – rather bold.

Only a road away from his house, he found himself being yanked to the side in a rush of fabric, then Sirius was face to face with someone who’s features were covered. It was almost comical, considering that the whole outfit seemed to have manifested directly from a fantasy novel, or maybe an RPG, complete with a black mask attached to a baggy hood like the most classic ‘assassin’ character ever made.

“Hello.” The person said, voice far too cheery for the situation.

Sirius couldn’t respond, thanks to the gloved hand pressed against his mouth, so he struggled instead.

“Now, now, none of that.”

Sirius did not stop fighting, though he did visibly cringe at such an awful, stereotypical, line being used. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d used it in his writing before.

The person was clearly waiting for him to settle, determined to keep him pinned down and scarily strong. Eventually he relaxed, if just to hear what other batshit sentences would come from their mouth.

“You know Remus Lupin, correct?”

Sirius’ stomach plunged at a dizzying pace, though he had enough sense to mask the reaction. Instead, he tried his best to convey confusion through furrowed brows and a shake of his head, ignoring the rush of his terrified thoughts. The mention of Remus had made the situation feel significantly more dire.

“Don’t lie, I’ve seen you two.”

That threw a spanner in his ‘pretend to be oblivious’ plan.

“Let me tell you something.” The person said, and then in an act that rendered its purpose useless, pulled down their mask to reveal a man, smiling gleefully as though it was an appropriate expression for the situation.

His teeth were weirdly white, almost blinding even in the dim light of the night, and a few strands of glowing, golden hair had been dislodged to fall in perfect curls over his face. Sirius stared in mild confusion, not feeling quite as threatened as before.

“I’m Gilderoy Lockhart, monster hunter and expert, and you my friend, have befriended a vampire. A mistake anyone can make, I’m sure, but never fear, I am here to help!”

He sounded like the NPCs in James’ videogames, speaking with unnatural, constant pauses and far too much flair. And really? Telling Sirius he had ‘befriended a vampire’ as though he was unaware? He felt rather insulted by that jab at his intelligence.

Gilderoy was starting again before Sirius managed to get a comment in, still grinning and speaking in that painfully irritating manner.

“Now, imagine my shock when I did a pinch of research and found out you were Sirius Black! I do just love your books, we should collaborate someday! But understandably that left me rather shocked at your apparent obliviousness. And so naturally, I had to step in, just to lend a helping hand at vanquishing the creature.”

Sirius couldn’t have hidden the disgust on his face if he tried.

The vile shit that the man was spewing made him see red, cruel words regarding not only Remus, but his species as a whole. And by someone who clearly had no understanding of vampires to begin with, by someone who labelled himself a ‘fan of Sirius’ books’.

Oh, Sirius was infuriated.

But yet again, he couldn’t do anything before the whirlwind of a man was acting of his own volition again, gasping dramatically and peering at Sirius’ neck, where he knew two faint dots lay, side by side. Remus had offered to heal them entirely but Sirius had declined for the sake of keeping a visual reminder of what happened. The way Remus always looked at them helped his decision too, even if he tried to turn away before Sirius could catch the heated expression.

“By Merlin, you’ve been bitten! No wonder you’re so sickly looking!”

Sirius just looked like that normally. He was really not enjoying how many subtle insults had been littered throughout their interaction.

“I shall stake the vampire and free you from being drained, do not worry Sirius!”

That was the first time Gilderoy let his hand fall from Sirius’ mouth during the entire encounter, and Sirius shot him a distinctly unimpressed look.

“I’m not worried about Remus.”

Gilderoy had the audacity to look shocked, and during that brief moment of surprise, Sirius was able to push him away and walk off. Footsteps hurried after him.

“Sirius! You really don’t understand the severity of the situation at hand.”

Sirius kept walking, making short work of the last minute of the journey and slamming the door to his home open, storming in and still being followed by fuck-ass Gilderoy. Coming to a stop by the stairs, he yelled.

“Remus! Come here please!”

Then he turned to look at Gilderoy for the first time since he set off, revelling in how his face had blanched.

“Sirius–“

It was then that Remus appeared by Sirius’ side, stood a few stairs up and looking down at them both.

“Uh, who’s this?” He turned his head to Sirius, brows furrowed as he watched Gilderoy through the corner of his eyes.

“Gilderoy Lockhart. Here to help me stake you, apparently.”

“Ah.” Remus nodded slowly, “I have heard that name.”

Gilderoy spluttered, but managed to regain his composure impressively fast, puffing up his chest.

To give him a taste of his own medicine, Sirius turned to Remus and talked before the other man could, “Can you tell him that I let you drink from me?”

“Oh right.” Remus nodded, “Yeah, he let me. Asked me to, actually.”

“You… you what?” Gilderoy glanced between them with widened eyes, horrified as though the two of them had just confessed to murder. “He has you under his control!”

“No, Gilderoy. No, he does not.” Sirius sighed, “Can I recommend you go and learn about vampires before you try to fight them?”

This was clearly mortally offensive, as Gilderoy’s jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon?”

He stormed over to Sirius, grabbing his arm so hard that he could feel it bruising beneath his fingertips.

“I am trying to help here.”

“Fuck!” Sirius gritted out, trying to squirm from his grip. Then Gilderoy was being launched halfway across the room and crumpling unconscious on the floor, Remus stood over him, visibly furious. The next ‘fuck’ Sirius let out was for a very different reason.

“You okay?” Remus glanced back at Gilderoy, and upon deeming him sufficiently unconscious, headed straight over to Sirius and gently took his arm. The outlines of Gilderoy’s fingers were already starting to deepen and Remus let out a low noise of displeasure.

“I think he’s taking potions, that’s a stronger grip than a human of his size should have.”

“Shit, you think?” Sirius peered at the marks, “That’ll explain those then.”

Remus was glaring at the mottled bruises, some sort of awful distain for what Gilderoy had left behind. Sirius watched the still-present rage, strangely fascinated by it.

“I need to get rid of him.” Remus tore his focus away from Sirius’ arm and looked over at the unconscious body, Sirius doing the same.

“Right.”

Neither of them moved, Remus still holding his arm carefully, the touch a direct contrast to the fire in his eyes. Sirius reached forward and tipped Remus’ chin towards him with a pressure so light it was more of a suggestion. Remus took it, letting Sirius guide his face to look at him instead, expression instantly softening when they made eye contact.

It was too much, the protectiveness followed by the kind adoration, and Sirius leaned in to plant a short kiss on his lips, sweet and tender. When he leaned away, lingering a moment too long, Remus’ lips were parted – still watching Sirius with that same love. Sirius just smiled slightly and tilted his head towards Gilderoy.

“You’ve got a guy to chuck out, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Remus breathed, then pulled Sirius in for another small kiss. He pulled away and slowly walked over to Gilderoy, looking back several times.

That night, when he slipped into bed beside Sirius and fell asleep with an arm around his waist, neither of them commented on it.

Sirius woke up first, which wasn’t surprising. While Remus and Sirius had adapted to an equally beneficial sleep schedule – falling asleep late at night or early in the morning and waking up midday – Remus still had to fight his instinct to sleep through the day.

The compromise between their natural sleep cycles was suiting them both just fine, and looking at Remus’ relaxed face, slack with sleep, Sirius decided that he’d rediscovered one of the pros. It had been a while since they slept beside each other and Sirius had missed it. He tucked his head closer to Remus’ collarbone and stayed there, perfectly relaxed, until he noticed him stir.

A kiss was pressed to his head and he leaned into it, Remus making a quiet noise of surprise.

“You’re awake?” He whispered, and Sirius smiled involuntarily at the sound of his voice.

“Yep, have been for a bit.”

Remus placed a second kiss in the same spot and then shifted to get up. Sirius watched blearily, still not quite awake. Remus was evidently also half asleep, stumbling a little as he stood.

“Be right back.”

Sirius settled down to wait for Remus to return. When he did, he brought with him a plate of food for Sirius, a pain au chocolat and a small bowl of strawberries. It was what he’d been having for breakfast for the past few days and Remus had apparently noticed. That small bit of domesticity sparked a warm feeling in him, sappy and pleased.

“Thank you.” Sirius murmured as he shifted to sit, taking the plate when it was passed to him and leaning back on the pillows. A glass of water was put on the bedside table by Sirius and Remus crawled back under the duvet.

“It is far too cold out there.”

“You’re not affected by the cold.”

“I can still feel it!” Remus glared at him with indignation, duvet slowly shifted down from where he’d yanked it up to his eyes.

Sirius finished breakfast in a handful of minutes, putting the plate over with the glass on the bedside table and thanking Remus again.

“It was no problem really.”

“It was sweet, thank you.”

Remus beamed at him, that gorgeous smile of his, and Sirius tilted his head.

“Your turn to eat?”

It took Remus no time at all to figure out what Sirius was referring to, and he faltered.

“Sirius–“

“You’ve done it once, do it again.” Sirius tried, “I’m okay with it if you are.”

Remus chewed on his lip, that perfect smile gone, “I’m okay with it, it’s just intimidating. It feels like I shouldn’t be biting someone if I don’t want them to run from me.”

“I’m here, Remus, and I don’t plan on leaving. You’re stuck with me, you know that?”

Remus sighed heavily, amusement playing at his lips. “What a fate you’ve doomed me to.”

Sirius shook his head, “You’re the one dooming yourself. You can’t be so you and then expect me not to want to glue myself to your side!”

“So me?”

“So kind, so thoughtful, so smart.” Sirius smirked, “So hot.”

Remus’ whole face moved with the size of his responding grin, and Sirius’ heart fluttered.

“Alright, enough with the flirting. Come here.”

Sirius moved next to Remus, positioning himself so that Remus had easy access to his neck. He felt the press of teeth, then the strange sensation of them sliding in. It was no less painful than the first time, nor any less intoxicating, and Sirius found himself already rather fond of the feeling. Now that really was something he should probably think about, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when he was held in Remus’ arms, feeling the warmth of his own flesh slowly transfer into the lips against his skin.

When he was finished, Remus leant away and kissed Sirius’ neck, right over the wound he had made. He hadn’t taken as much blood as the previous time and Sirius felt completely fine physically, no light-headedness or exhaustion.

He was, however, holding on to his self control by a thread. Once again, Remus had been making those noises of contentment as he drank and it was driving Sirius insane. He had enough sense not to jump the man, but the barrier for gentle kisses had been broken, and so that was what he did.

Turning in Remus’ arms, he shuffled up the bed until they were face to face, lightly pressing his lips to Remus’. The action was innocent, even if the thoughts running through his mind were not, but Remus reacted to the touch like he’d been electrocuted.

Jolting, Remus pushed into it with a gasp, immediately deepening the kiss with a desperation in his movements. It caught Sirius off-guard, but the first taste of his own blood in Remus’ mouth had his mind obliterated of any coherent thoughts, instead replaced with the repetition of moremoremore.

The remnants of copper covered his own tongue as Remus pressed into his mouth, pulling little gasps from his throat with greed. A hand wrapped around his back to pull his body closer and Sirius gripped the back of Remus’ neck to do the same, changing the angle just slightly to make him taller.

At some point – maybe a minute later, maybe an hour – he pulled away for a hurried breath. Remus was looking up at him, disorientated and immediately seeking Sirius’ lips, barely allowing him an inhale before they were connected again, always connected.

Sirius publicly announced his intent to adjust the way his vampires worked for the next set of books. Some of his fans were upset – why mess with an established formula? But plenty of people were eager to see his fresh take on them, wondering if it would step away from the tacky way he’d written them previously.

Sirius was sure these vampires would be better than the last, his certainty mostly due to the vampire sat by him and peering over his shoulder, periodically pointing at his notes to make small adjustments. Though there did happen to be some parts they couldn’t agree on.

“Sirius, for the last time, being bitten isn’t enjoyable!”

“Says you.” Sirius sniffed, “I happen to disagree.”

Remus laughed incredulously, shaking his head, “You’re ridiculous. Actually insane.”

“And yet I like the biting, so sue me. Maybe my characters can be insane too.”

Neither James nor Peter were surprised when they found out that Remus and Sirius were back together, just giving each other a look that implied they’d discussed it already. When Sirius confirmed that it had been the week before, James groaned and handed a fiver to Peter under Sirius’ dropped jaw.

“You were betting on us?”

“Well, it was just a matter of time.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

James whacked his arm, “Watch your language Sirius! The kid is bad enough with Lily’s cursing, we can’t have it get any worse before he starts primary school. The other parents are going to judge us!”

Sirius snorted and glanced over to Harry, who noticed his attention and immediately stood. He zoomed over with a toy motorbike clutched in hand to show him, never mind the fact Sirius bought it in the first place. God, he loved that kid.

Remus got along well with Harry too, though he’d received plenty more admonishments than Sirius did for swearing. Harry had easily accepted ‘Uncle Moony’ into his life – the nickname Remus had been given years ago thanks to his nocturnal habits – and each time Sirius heard the childish voice calling for Remus, his heart did a painful tug.

Remus was back, and he was firmly integrated into Sirius’ life, his new life. He helped with Sirius’ new book and watched it skyrocket into popularity, and he still kissed Sirius like his life depended on it. It wasn’t just Sirius’ new life anymore, it was theirs.