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Remus doesn’t notice anything unusual when he walks into the pub, nor when he slides into the snug, taking off his jacket and throwing it onto the worn leather in haste. It’s charmed to keep rain off for the most part, but it still feels heavy, and Remus is glad to be out of it.
It’s only when he looks up that he’s startled. He shouldn’t be, but he is.
They do this, sometimes. It’s not only dangerous, it’s stupid. Remus hadn’t expected it today, not somewhere so public.
A crooked, shy smile spreads across Sirius Black’s face as his grey eyes bore into Remus’ hazel ones, and it’s all kinds of wrong.
Everyone copes with trauma differently, and they’ve had their share and more. Years and years of it. The latest in their series of improbable events had been that exactly one year after that unforgettable battle at the Department of Mysteries, two people walked out of the Veil.
Neither Sirius nor Regulus remembered anything about their time on the other side at all, if you believed their testimonies. Remus wasn’t sure.
He believed that they didn’t remember anything pertinent: no, they wouldn’t be able to help anyone solve the puzzle of how they got back. But whether they truly had no recollection of their time on the other side, well… Who knew, really? And after so many years of mental torture, Remus isn’t about to put Sirius through more of it out of sheer morbid curiosity.
And he is curious, of course he is. Are the Inferi the whispers behind the Veil? Have the Blacks been truly alive the whole time?
He composes himself and tries not to look disappointed or overeager. As he runs a hand through his own damp hair, he can’t help but look at his companion’s. Not a single grey hair. Unfair, really. Specks of grey would look good on Sirius, he thinks. On Remus’ light brown hair they just look boring.
Involuntarily he licks his lips, then clears his throat. “Hi,” he says, sensing that he has to start the conversation. Regulus has taken the first step, Remus has to take the next one by greeting him, pretending this isn’t wrong.
Because it’s Regulus in front of Remus, wearing Sirius’ face. They already look similar enough, but they’re not identical twins. Regulus’ eyes are blue for one, his hair more textured, his shoulders slightly narrower, his face younger. From a distance, or for people who don’t know them well, one could pass for the other, especially back in the day.
In fact, Sirius got Regulus in trouble back at Hogwarts a few times using that. But to look exactly like Sirius, Regulus uses glamour charms. Remus had thought it was Polyjuice at first, but Regulus had laughed it off, switching his eye colour back to show Remus that that wasn’t it.
As for the why…
The very first time Regulus had done it, it was at an Order meeting. Remus hadn’t even noticed until afterwards, when they were quietly having tea in the kitchen of Grimmauld, and Kreacher had lovingly called him Master Regulus.
Seeing Remus’ shocked face, Regulus had explained that he wasn’t deceiving Dumbledore, he just didn’t want to be stared at like a pariah for “one bloody meeting”, and that Sirius had agreed to skip it.
After that, it had repeated without any pattern that Remus could discern. Sirius was always out of the house or in his room at those times, so they never crossed paths. The brothers must coordinate, though Remus can’t imagine what that conversation might be like.
It was truly bizarre for Remus at the beginning, that sometimes his visits to Grimmauld would be to two brothers, sometimes one, sometimes the other, and sometimes one pretending to be the other.
Still, despite the queerness of it, it didn’t take long for Remus to admit to himself that he preferred it when it was only Regulus - as himself. Regulus is easier. That’s why he’s here today, they’d arranged to have a pint, just the two of them.
Speaking of, he should take a sip of the beer Regulus had taken the liberty of ordering for him. He plays with the rim of the glass, looking at it, trying to bring himself to act normal, whatever that means these days.
Regulus and Remus are friends by now, aren’t they? Why do they need to do… this? It’s painful. If Remus found it easy to see Sirius, he wouldn’t have moved back to his cottage in the first place.
He drinks some of his beer to stifle the urge to sigh.
Regulus looks around as if he’s just arrived and is taking in the pub. “Bit crowded today, isn’t it?” Bless him, he’s trying to make small talk.
He doesn’t look as young as he really is with his charmed-on wrinkles, but he’s still a kid, really. Maybe that’s part of the allure of pretending to be Sirius, appearing older. Like he’s lived the years that were taken from him.
Remus hums in agreement with Regulus’ question, going along with the charade. His original opener was going to be that Sirius bought a surprisingly fascinating new book about a new species of dragon, but he can’t do that now. “So,” he says slowly. “Beer?” He raises his eyebrows.
Regulus shifts his shoulders up in a ‘what of it?’ gesture, but they both know it’s odd for either Black brother to drink beer. Regulus prefers wine, and Sirius firewhisky.
“Didn’t see a wine list,” Regulus says coolly, trying to keep up his nonchalant act. Remus can’t quite tell if it’s because he wants to be cool himself, or because he wants to keep up the illusion of being Sirius.
“Ah,” Remus responds, not knowing what else to say without offending the younger wizard.
Over the last few months, conversations with Regulus have been getting easier and easier, but they always have a starting point like what happened at the meeting or last mission, and Regulus usually looks like Regulus, if they’re just chatting. He’s close to talking about the rain when Regulus rescues them both by speaking.
“Want to play a game?”
He’s not quite snickering, but his too-pleased expression and raised neat black eyebrow make Remus recant his previous thought about being rescued. This feels rather like a trap.
“A game?” he asks. Regulus doesn’t even like helping Remus with the crossword, or playing chess with Sirius. What’s that look for?
“Alphabet Spell, for old times’ sake?” Regulus says, the corners of his lips still hanging with the ghost of a smile, but his eyes steely.
Alphabet Spell is a game the Marauders used to play over the holidays at Hogwarts, mostly. They go through the alphabet and whoever’s turn it is has to name a spell starting with the letter they’ve got. Can’t find anything quick enough, you drink, and the game starts back from A. Why would Sirius have mentioned this to Regulus at all, when they haven’t even talked about the game let alone played it in so many years?
“You want to get pissed?” Remus laughs, trying to ease the tension he feels. If Regulus wants to play at being Sirius with Remus, why is he doing it here? The most publicly they’ve ever done it has been at a single Order meeting. Every other time, they’ve been completely alone. For good reason. They don’t pretend so they can talk.
“You think I will?” Regulus still isn’t smiling. Either his act is slipping, or Sirius was very different with Regulus than he was with the Marauders. Sirius would be laughing as he goaded them on.
Remus’ part, obviously, is to keep the banter going, and buy a jug of whatever’s cheapest so they can play. That’s what he would’ve done with Sirius. It finally dawns on Remus why they’re here.
When Regulus first started pretending to be Sirius at Grimmauld, it was mostly so he could stay quiet, and blend in. He might’ve said a few words, but not often. Around the fourth or fifth time, though, Regulus had followed Remus into the guest room he was going to use that night.
He’d leaned against the door, and just looked at Remus thoughtfully. “Yes?” Remus had asked, wondering what Regulus needed. It still unnerved him back then, this quiet replica of Sirius walking around Grimmauld. “I see the way you look, you know.”
It was silly to act confused, but Remus had done it anyway. “Look at what?”
Regulus had simply walked away with a dark chuckle that time, but the time after that he’d kissed Remus in the hallway almost as soon as he’d entered the house.
After that, every once in a while, Remus would arrive at Grimmauld before an Order meeting, and find Regulus with Sirius’ face waiting for him at the door or in the guest room, and they would have sex. If Remus called out Sirius’ name, it wasn’t because he was fooled, but because it felt like what Regulus wanted.
Now, in the dim light of this pub, Regulus is challenging him. His right hand’s holding a mostly-full beer, long aristocratic fingers curling gracefully. Elbows off the table, of course; impeccable manners, Black boys. He’s daring Remus to truly pretend he’s Sirius. Not tumbling on a bed, eyes closed, gasping and grabbing, but spending time together out in the open.
Is that what I want to do? Remus asks himself, and drinks more of his beer.
“I think you’ll be pissed as a pixie by…” He looks Regulus up and down in mock-consideration. “M, at most.”
“We’ll see about that,” Regulus says, smiling this time. His eyes look cold and calculating still, but maybe he can’t help that when he’s trying so hard to be someone else.
Remus’ own smile feels sad, hollow. Sirius would’ve said ‘You’re on, Moony’. He would’ve been warm. He always was, in his own way, even right after Azkaban. Regulus is a great man on his own, he’ll see that one day, but he simply isn’t Sirius.
Regulus somehow talks the barman into selling them a bottle of tequila, of all things. By their fourth attempt to get to Z (foiled at U), Remus has to admit that this might’ve been a good idea. He’s not pissed, per se, but he’s well on his way there.
Regulus, for his part, seems to have relaxed as well. He’s suspiciously fast, and Remus wonders if the brothers play this to pass the time at Grimmauld in between missions.
Before Regulus can refill Remus’ glass, Remus puts his hand over it. “That’s me for the night, I’m afraid. I concede defeat.” He makes a silly bowing gesture with his hand. Maybe he is pissed, just a little.
He’s expecting an argument, or at least a push to have one last shot each. But of course, it’s not really Sirius, no matter how caught up Remus keeps getting in the shape of his face, and light in his eyes. Regulus just nods and puts the cap back on the bottle.
They get up at the same time, and Remus finally feels more in control. It’s easy to see how the rest of the night will go. They’ve loosened up, pretended to be young Sirius and Remus, and now they’ll go back to Regulus’ bedroom and pretend some more, only horizontally.
Remus makes a move to pick up the bottle, but Regulus tells him to not be ridiculous, so they leave it on the table.
Apparently the brothers aren’t that different though, or Regulus is a brilliant actor, because almost as soon as they step out of the pub, he pulls Remus into a kiss. It’s a deep, completely inappropriate kiss to be having three feet from the pub doors, in the middle of the street. Remus’ heart is beating fast, and he kisses back with more passion than he thought he had in him, these days.
When they break, Regulus’ hand is on Remus’ arm, and he’s grinning. It’s identical to Sirius’ lopsided grin: unfakable, genetic. Remus knows he should hate that, that it’s safer for his mind and heart to not truly pretend it’s Sirius he’s with, but he can only resist so much.
They walk back to Grimmauld slowly, shoulders touching every now and again as they let people pass, talking about how good Molly’s cooking was at the last get-together, and how Remus can’t believe they’re discovering new dragon types still.
It’s not like talking to Sirius - old or new. Of course it’s not. They don’t have the shared history, the inside jokes, the same sense of humour. But it still feels warm and pleasant and just good.
We’re in the middle of a war, Remus thinks as they arrive and the house’s door appears into existence in front of them, We should be allowed to have something good every now and again.
It’s only when they’ve hung up their jackets and Remus sees Sirius’ cloak nearby that Remus even thinks about a potential hiccup. Normally, the brothers make sure not to cross paths, but Regulus must’ve been like this for hours now, where’s Sirius? Surely not holed up in his bedroom for the night already?
He looks up towards the staircase, and his thoughts must be obvious because Regulus says “I reckon he’s probably still in the study, he’s been trying to set aside books that might be useful to Harry.”
Remus is surprised Regulus is so ready to break the illusion, even more so when he turns back to see blue eyes looking at him and not grey.
“We’re not..?”
Regulus raises his eyebrows, taunting him quietly.
“Lead the way,” Remus answers, thankfully knowing well by now how to handle a Black.
The lighter mood they’ve been in since the Alphabet game is gone, now. They walk quietly until they reach the hallway that has the bedrooms.
The master bedroom - empty - is at the very end, and before it are multiple guest bedrooms and of course the brothers’ rooms. The one immediately to their left, decorated in yellow and brown, had been the first Sirius and Remus had cleared when they got back to this place. It’s been Remus’ de facto second home since then. The boys’ — men’s — bedrooms are to the right, one after the other.
Regulus turns around and pauses, looking at Remus with that odd expression again. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, then he takes a deep breath. His eyes are grey again when his eyes meet Remus’.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks, then turns his eyes to Sirius’ bedroom door.
Does he want to have sex in Sirius’ bed? When the man’s home, no less? Remus had always known their relationship was complicated, but wow.
“Not much choice, is there,” Remus says before he even recognizes the thought.
Regulus looks back at him. “‘There’s always a choice’, isn’t that what you Gryffindors say? ‘Do the right thing, there’s always a choice’.” There’s only a little bitterness in his words. He’s paid very dearly for seeing a choice where most would not have, and having the conviction to follow through.
“I don’t think I make very good choices, when given the chance,” Remus says. Apparently the walk home hadn’t sobered him up in the slightest.
Regulus doesn’t dispute that because he is an arsehole of a Black in the end, and simply leads Remus to his bedroom. Its outline is the exact same as Sirius’, but the decorations are completely different. While Sirius’ bedroom walls have multiple posters on them and his room’s full of random books and knick-knacks, Regulus’ walls only have two landscape paintings, and even his library is completely empty. It’s actually creepy, considering he lived here longer than Sirius did, and is the one still on the family tapestry.
It doesn’t take long to get out of their clothes, and soon they’re kissing and sighing into each other’s mouths, pulling and grabbing at each other’s skin. Remus doesn’t know what experiences Regulus had with men before, but Remus is definitely not his first. And that’s a good thing too, because the very first time Regulus tried to sleep with him, Remus had been so worried it was purely in imitation of Sirius.
But no, Regulus clearly enjoys sucking cock, Remus thinks rather fondly as he holds onto Regulus’ soft black locks, and watches his head bob up and down.
When they’re both done, Remus doesn’t make a move to get dressed. He quite enjoys being naked in front of Regulus. Partly because it encourages the same from Regulus and he likes the view, and partly because it’s sort of novel.
In his youth, after Sirius, he used to hide as much of his body as possible, either to not be found out through the scars, or because he felt ugly. He’d grown out of that insecurity for the most part, but in its stead had come the defensiveness and paranoia of wanting to be as clothed and close to his wand at all times.
Here, with Regulus, Remus can let himself not care that his wand’s across the room in his jeans pocket, or that the bite mark on his left thigh is glaringly obvious, with Remus’ legs comfortably spread across the bed. The rare lovers he’s had in his adulthood have never seen this. Even Sirius hasn’t seen this version of Remus’ body naked.
Regulus uses the bathroom attached to his bedroom, and walks out looking predictably - unfairly - gorgeous, despite having lost the adjustments that made him look like Sirius. Sirius’ specific looks will always have a hold on Remus the way nobody else can, but Regulus, in his similarity and youth, is splendid.
Noticing Remus leering - looking - at him, Regulus chuckles. “Round two? Isn’t it a bit much, two brothers on the same night?”
They’ve never had sex as themselves, before, and Remus actually considers it, for a moment. Regulus is good looking, and maybe Remus would like to have sex as himself again. For the last four years, the only sex he’s had at all has been these nights with Regulus, pretending to be an entirely different Remus. A Remus that has Sirius, still.
“Maybe not tonight,” he says softly, feeling sullen and wistful all of a sudden. It’s been so long, it makes no sense that he’s still pining for Sirius. Who can’t let go of the bloke they started fancying at bloody fourteen?
Regulus shrugs, and puts fresh clothes on. “You could sleep here tonight, if you’d like,” he says, looking fixedly at the buttons of his night robe, and not Remus.
Remus can’t help the little burst of laughter that comes out of his mouth. At Regulus’ scowl, he explains: “Sirius would kill me if he saw me leave his little brother’s bedroom in the morning.”
“What do you reckon would bother him more,” Regulus asks conspiratorily, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking, unabashed, at Remus’ naked body. “That I’m a Slytherin, or that I’m a Black?”
“Difficult question,” Remus answers in mock-solemnity, and pats Regulus with the side of his foot. “The first one would disgust them more than make him angry, I think. ‘Really, Moony? A snake?’”. His poor imitation of Sirius’ slightly deeper voice and posh English accent makes Regulus raise an eyebrow.
“The answer is neither, I thought you were meant to be the clever one of the bunch,” Regulus says. There’s still humour in his tone, but a challenge, too.
Remus really wants to know what Regulus is thinking, so he doesn’t ask.
“He already knows, anyway.”
Remus stops breathing for a second. “What?”
Of course it was possible they’d be found out, but incredibly improbable. Remus and Regulus cast silencing spells, are never touching when Sirius could see. And it’s not like Regulus would tell Sirius, is it? That’s madness.
“Oh, not everything, of course,” Regulus says dismissively. “Merlin knows what he’d think of me if he knew the extent of it.”
“What does he know, then?” Remus whispers.
Regulus’ sharp look makes Remus feel ashamed of himself, though he can’t name why.
“He doesn’t know I look like him when I fuck you,” Regulus says, easy as anything, and Remus’ heart clenches. That means Sirius thinks Remus is sleeping with Regulus, his brother. Not that Remus isn’t, but it’s different, it isn’t like that, it…
“Is that why you do it? To get a rise out of him?” Remus asks, angry all of a sudden, furious. He gets up and gets clothed while the fucker says nothing at all.
When Remus looks back at Regulus, he’s just sitting on the bed, unassuming, just looking back at Remus as if he hasn’t ruined his evening, his life, maybe. What must Sirius think? Is he even in the house, or was Regulus lying about that? Did he leave Grimmauld in a fit of rage, and Regulus wanted to have Remus one last time before they had to stop completely?
“I don’t know what you’re all up in arms about, werewolf. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it. I didn’t coerce you, or force you. I offered something, and you took it. Kept taking it.”
“But why do it at all?” Remus asks, only idly registering that Regulus isn’t using past tense. “If this isn’t to hurt Sirius, then why?”
Regulus smiles, lopsided, at the sheets he’s straightening with one hand. “I know Sirius and I aren’t like the Weasley twins, but I don’t like to hurt him. It’s an unfortunate side effect.” He looks back up at Remus, taking in his flared nostrils and trembling arms, no doubt. “He never did like sharing his toys,” he says thoughtfully. He’s looking into a memory, it looks like. “I didn’t set out wanting this,” he says, pointing at the two of them.
Oh, I didn’t even consider that, Remus thinks. Could Regulus have schemed this from the very beginning? Take over Sirius at Order meetings, then in Remus’ bed? But surely not. And besides, Sirius and he haven’t been together since they were twenty. Regulus could’ve just seduced Remus as himself. He’s sure lonely enough, even if he’d have feared Sirius’ wrath, he might’ve gone for it.
“But you kept looking at him,” Regulus continues slowly. “You wanted him, I wanted…” He looks around the room, searching for the words he wants to say on his bare walls. “Warmth, I suppose.” He’s beautiful as he blinks slowly, his long lashes almost touching his chin, and by Merlin Remus is so so angry.
“You used my love for him for— for what, a quick shag? Convenience?” Remus feels nauseous, like there’s bile in his mouth, like he can’t stand himself. Any venom he spits at Regulus is unearned, because Regulus isn’t wrong, Remus had wanted it too. If he couldn’t have the real thing, having a quick shag pretending he could was pleasant. Had been. Had been pleasant.
Regulus sighs in disappointment, then gives Remus a knowing look. Sirius would have rolled his eyes, Remus can’t help but think, and thinks he can feel tears stinging the edges of his eyes.
“He’s not upset with you,” Regulus says, slowly, deliberately, as if he’s paying for it. “He’s sad, emotional, and volatile as ever, but he’s not upset with you.”
Remus doesn’t believe that for a moment. Sirius loved freely, deeply, loyally, and expected the same in return. That Remus should sleep with his little brother, even if seduced into it, would enrage Sirius, let alone if he’d known Remus had gone so willingly.
“Doesn’t matter,” Remus lies. He takes a few moments to breathe through his nose, and collect himself best as he can. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning, apologise.”
“You won’t tell him?” Regulus looks alarmed all of a sudden, and Remus feels a sick satisfaction. He wants to hurt Regulus the way he’s hurt Remus.
“You said he already knows,” Remus says cruelly. “If you can share secrets with him, so can I.”
Regulus considers Remus’ words, his gaze beseeching. Remus wonders how he ever managed to pretend he was with Sirius when in Regulus’ bed. He knows what’s happening, that his guilt is making him lash out, but he doesn’t care. Let Regulus feel bad too, he started all this. Remus didn’t ask for it. He’d been fine admiring from afar, wishing and daydreaming but never touching Sirius again the way he once had.
“Why?”
“Why?” Remus repeats incredulously. “So he knows, so he…” He can’t finish the sentence. Regulus is right. To what end would he tell Sirius that he hasn’t been sleeping with Regulus his little brother willy nilly, no, he’s also been making him wear a bloody mask of Sirius so he could defile his memories. He’s no better than Knockturn Alley whorehouses using Polyjuice potion.
His shoulders sag like his puppet master has set his strings down. Regulus is still looking at him curiously, and Remus wonders what the fuck more he can possibly want from Remus.
“What do you think he would say?” Regulus asks, and Remus knows that tone. That inquisitive, ‘I’d like to figure out how this butterfly works, so I’ll pin it down and snap its wings’ attitude. He really has been set up quite nicely, hasn’t he?
“That I’m being absurd,” Remus says. He pauses, but Regulus doesn’t ask what he means, just keeps staring. “What?” he snaps. “What do you want?”
“I just can’t figure out,” Regulus says slowly, and if it were Sirius he might’ve tilted his head but no, that gesture was learned from James, so Regulus wouldn’t. Remus has to stop comparing them. “Why you don’t go to his room, his bed.”
Sirius had asked him the same, two months into their residence in Grimmauld. He’d tried to kiss Remus, who’d deflected it, and Sirius had demanded to know why they couldn’t start again. Remus had said that he didn’t want to.
“When, pray tell, would we have had time to have anything?” Remus snarls. “When he was half-starved, hiding in caves, mind drifting in and out, trying to make sense of being out of Azkaban? Or would it be when we moved here?” He gestures around the house in distaste. “When I was his jailor?”
It wouldn’t have been right, surely anybody in their right mind could see why Sirius needed a friend, not an old lover trying to take advantage of him in this house full of his childhood nightmares.
“Maybe you think it should’ve been after the Veil, when he was confused, and grasping at pieces of his old life, trying to clear his name with the Ministry, trying to connect with Harry?”
Regulus doesn’t say anything.
“I won’t lie, and say I wasn’t tempted, once his name was cleared,” Remus continues softly. “But it wouldn’t be right. Finally a free man, something he hasn’t been since he was a kid…” He shakes his head. “It would have been cruel.”
“He tried,” Regulus says. Remus isn’t sure whether or not Sirius explicitly told Regulus this, but it doesn’t matter. It is true, after all.
“Of course he did, what traumatized soul wouldn’t?”
“Are you that insecure?” Regulus asks, curious, distant. Remus almost hates him.
“It wouldn’t be right.”
“Gryffindors,” Regulus huffs. “School’s been over for almost two decades, yet you still show your colours at every turn, don’t you?”
Remus grits his teeth, but doesn’t answer.
“What’s so noble about staying apart? You never bloody question anything once you’ve deemed it Right, do you?”
Pursing his lips, Remus begs himself internally not to take the bait. Whatever game they’ve been playing, Regulus has been holding more cards than he’d let on.
“It’s been a long time,” Remus says, missing the dismissive tone he’d wanted by a Quidditch pitch.
“Whatever,” Regulus snarls. “Leave if you want, I don’t care.”
He’d wanted Remus to stay, Remus realises. He’d been honest about wanting warmth. Remus knows so little about Regulus when it comes down to it, it’s so difficult to decipher his motives. But maybe he’d hoped that Remus would say ‘I wanted you, not Sirius’. Or maybe that Remus would stop pining for Sirius and move on, once a fracture like this was put in between them.
Regulus looks so very young all of a sudden, and Remus feels like shite. He’s barely more than a boy, for goodness’ sake. It shouldn’t have been on him to protect Remus’ sensibilities, he shouldn’t have to be mature, he’s a kid.
“Look, I…” He sighs. “I’m sorry. Just… We should tell him we’ve stopped, at least.”
“Have we?”
“Where is Sirius?” Remus asks instead of answering. “Where’s he really?”
“In the study,” Regulus says.
Remus feels his tense muscles relax a little. Maybe this isn’t as bad as it looks. Maybe he can tell Sirius he’s just been caught up in the moment a few times, been lonely, and…
“I told him I’d let him know when we’re done.” There’s no overt cruelty in his voice, but it’s the cruelest thing he’s ever said in Remus’ presence, and he’s heard him use slurs and cast terrible spells on students at Hogwarts.
Remus closes his eyes. “Well then,” he says shakily. “I’ll go find him.”
Regulus nods, and lays down on his bed. “Do close the door on your way out, please,” he asks politely.
Remus does, and trembles as he walks towards the study. Whatever happens now, it won’t be pretty. A small, selfish, petty part of Remus wants Sirius to be jealous like he used to get sometimes in their youth. Set a table or two on fire, hex Regulus, kiss Remus passionately. A larger part of him hopes that Regulus was lying, that Sirius knows nothing, and he can walk back this mistake.
As promised, Sirius is in the study, but he’s not going through books. He’s sitting in the armchair, looking at the crackling fire. The firelight carves his face into sharp angles, handsome and severe.
“Padfoot?” Remus asks, and his friend turns in surprise.
“Hey Moony,” he says. He’s trying to smile, and Remus knows Regulus didn’t lie.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I… I don’t have an excuse.”
Sirius looks away again. “You don’t have to answer to me, Moony.”
He does, but he can’t say that. I’ve only ever been yours, he wants to say. Every other man I’ve ever slept with felt like I was cheating on you, even when you were in Azkaban.
“He asked why,” Remus finds himself saying. It’s a crazy, silly hope, but the seed’s been planted in his mind, so he needs to know. “He doesn’t understand why I’m not with you if I’ll settle for the facsimile.”
Sirius’ eyebrows furrow, and his mouth sets in a displeased frown. He doesn’t say anything for a few long moments. “And what did you tell him?”
“That you have better things to do now that you’re free, than lay around with old Moony.”
Sirius shakes his head and smiles at the floor. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I do, actually,” says Remus because why lie.
“Moony. Remus. I…” Sirius stops himself and takes a deep breath. When his grey eyes meet Remus’, they’re full of life, of affection, of Sirius.
How on Earth did Regulus ever think going to the pub with him would feel like a date with Sirius, would hold a candle to how Remus feels with Sirius in their quietest, most boring moments? A simple look, a quick brush of hand, even a ‘hullo Moony’ from his man turns Remus into a sap.
Remus walks closer, and Sirius watches him approach with an attention that makes Remus’ chest ache. Sirius doesn’t speak again until Remus has stopped a couple of feet away from him.
“I knew you were sleeping with him. I never understood why, though.”
There are about a dozen ways to hear that question, but Remus hazards it’s about them being brothers. “He looks like you,” he admits.
“But I’m right here,” Sirius says, so quiet Remus is taken aback. “I thought maybe it was because… because I’m too different. Too old. I don’t understand why you’d prefer Reggie over me.”
“I don’t,” Remus says, blinking fast. How could Sirius ever think— well, actually, Remus can see how he’d arrive at that conclusion. Damn. Damn damn damn. “Sirius, it was never… I just, if I couldn’t have you…”
Now it’s Sirius’ turn to be surprised. “You couldn’t?”
Remus shakes his head. “We had no time after you got out of Azkaban, and then… You should be truly free, find out who you are as a man, not…” Not just stick to what’s familiar, he doesn’t say.
“Moony, if you’re telling me you rejected me for my own benefit…” Whatever answer he reads on Remus’ face, it makes him furious.
In a flash he’s standing up, in Remus’ space, glaring with such intensity that Remus knows he’s about to yell before it happens. “What the fuck? What am I, a child? You are so infuriatingly patronising! You’re incredible! You… you…” He struggles to find the words, and Remus is grateful that Sirius’ tongue isn’t as sharp as it used to be.
“I wanted the best for you,” he tries.
“Oh, don’t you even try,” Sirius snarls, waving a finger at Remus as if he’s chiding an errant child. “You knew how much I wanted you, you knew what it took for me to kiss you after everything.” He’s genuinely shaking in anger now, pupils blown. “And you gave me nothing but a cold shoulder. ‘Let’s be friends, Padfoot’ you said. Left me all alone. But you’ll get in Reggie’s bed? What, because he’s younger, more like the man you remember?” He looks Remus up and down. “Arsehole. At least don’t lie about it.”
It takes Remus almost a minute to find the words. Sirius’ breathing eventually calms down, but the fire in his eyes never does.
“No, no…” He wants to tell him that Regulus uses glamour to put damned crow’s feet and smile lines on his face but it sounds ridiculous even in his head. “It was just a way to cope. Because I wanted you. Want you.”
Sirius looks like he’s about to punch Remus hard enough to break bone, and Remus has to concentrate not to flinch. They’d never got into physical fights, the two of them, but James and Sirius would, every now and again. It didn’t look pleasant.
“You really are infuriating,” Sirius reiterates, hissing it out like a curse.
Then, he throws himself at Remus. Not to punch him, but to kiss him. Remus doesn’t dodge, or even pretend he doesn’t want this. He wants this more than anything, has since he ever wanted anyone. Sirius wasn’t just his sexual awakening at fourteen, he was - he is - the only one Remus has ever truly wanted. It’s pathetic and unrealistic, but truth is stranger than fiction, isn’t it?
They kiss angrily for a while, losing and refinding their footing a few times, Sirius pulling at Remus’ neck, Remus finding purchase on Sirius’ shoulders. It goes on for such a long time that Remus almost forgets why it’s happened.
When they finally pull apart, taking heaving breaths, Sirius gives Remus a stone cold glare. “If you ever,” he says dangerously. “Touch Regulus again, I’ll cut both your dicks off.”
Well, that’s certainly… something. “Er, alright.” What else is there to say? He’s been shagging his best friend’s little brother, a decade younger than him now, no less. He deserves a lot worse than a stern threat.
“And if your little wolfish brain is scheming up a way to get out of this, to push me away again— If you’re thinking I’ll stand for one more bloody minute of you trying to pretend we don’t belong together…”
He really shouldn’t, but Remus asks “Then what?”
“I’ll use those chains in your basement. Lock you up like in one of those children’s stories.”
He can’t help it, Remus laughs. “Sirius…”
“I mean it, Moony. If you think you’re going back to your cottage, you’re mad.”
Remus raises an eyebrow, looking down at Sirius’ fisted hands. “All my things are there,” he says dryly. “I have maybe two robes in the guest room here.”
Sirius sighs, but unclenches his fists. “You’ll just have to walk around starkers.”
“I don’t know if Alastor’s going to enjoy that,” Remus says, but there’s no objection in his voice.
“Don’t. Don’t joke.”
“Alright,” Remus breathes out, careful. It’s easy to forget how fragile Sirius is now, especially when half the time he’s as lively and dangerous as he used to be.
“Stay,” Sirius says. “Don’t leave me, don’t— don’t fucking—” He laughs a bitter laugh, and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, although there are no tears falling.
“Sirius.” Remus holds Sirius’ jaw with both hands, and tilts it to face him again. “I never wanted Regulus. I thought… I shouldn’t have. I was weak. I really didn’t think I could have you.”
“Well, you can. You bloody well can. You always could.”
Sirius sighs and pulls Remus into his arms, pressing him against his chest. “I’m still bloody annoyed with you.”
“I know,” Remus says, but he’s grinning into Sirius’ body. Sirius’ body.
They hold each other after that, still standing, for a long time. Neither of them cries, but it feels cathartic all the same.
“I’m not done being angry,” Sirius warns as they pull apart.
“I know,” Remus repeats, smiling nevertheless.
Regulus’ door is still closed and the hallway is quiet when they make their way to Sirius’ bedroom. They settle into bed with practiced ease, Remus on the right and Sirius on the left side. Remus puts a hand on Sirius’ chest, unsure how to place himself, but wanting to touch the other man at least a little while they sleep.
There’ve objectively been happier moments in his life, times when all his friends were alive, times when he felt invincible, times when he didn’t feel years of aches in his bones… But as he holds on to Sirius, he feels more hopeful than he has in a long time, and this twisted, weird night might have been the best night of his life, because look where he’s ended up.