Over the course of Sirius’ life summer meant many different things. For most of it, it meant being stranded at Grimmauld Place before returning weary and drained to Hogwarts.
Then it meant stacks of letters on the kitchen table and ice lollies and wrestling James in the lake by Potter Manor until their muscles ached and the sun disappeared beyond the water.
Finally, it meant something new. Something unfamiliar and exciting and miserable because they hadn’t quite figured out cooling charms that lasted more than an hour.
Sirius watched Remus putter around the kitchen of their new flat, sticking his head in the fridge and pulling out this and that.
“Orange juice?”, He said when he turned, holding up a big plastic jug in question. Sirius nodded from his perch on the counter, eyes wandering again to the planes of Remus’ back.
It was just humid enough neither of them bothered with a shirt, and if Sirius ever blushed over it—no he didn’t! It’s just the heat. Besides, he was glad Remus had finally given up fretting over his scars around him.
He was glad for a lot of things. Most of them new. Like how more often than not he could sleep through the night, how the future seemed a bit uncertain but not terrifying, how he could snog his boyfriend wherever he liked without risk of an audience.
Speaking of, “Thank you,” Sirius whispered softly against Remus’ lips when handed a plate of toast and eggs. Remus smiled, collecting forks for the two of them, “Balcony?”.
The folding chairs on the balcony had holes in the seat fabric, and made you sink down a little when you sat in them. The view was of the street and buildings and road. And they were lucky enough the wind blew often in their direction.
Well, lucky in a sense. Sirius spat up another mouthful of hair as it danced in the breeze, occasionally smacking him in the face. He rolled his eyes when he heard a snicker from the adjacent chair.
“Shut up,” He muttered, picking a strand from his plate. Remus shrugged, barely concealing laughter, “The whole windswept look is good on you though, sort of like a lion. Very Gryffindor”,
“You mean the tangled, frizzy look?”, Sirius deadpanned. Remus shook his head, “Your words not mine, love”, when he finally laughed Sirius kicked his ankle.
He fully expected them to go back to eating in comfortable silence when Remus got up, “Where’re you—“, The question died in his throat as Remus gathered up his hair from behind, and neatly tied it back with a bobble, placing a peck to the nape of his neck before returning to his seat. Sirius’ heart swelled.
“What?”, Remus asked, lighting a cigarette and tapping the ash into the mug they kept on the floor in lieu of an ashtray, “Your food’s gonna get cold, Pads”.
Sirius probably wouldn’t notice. His whole being felt warm at the moment. From much more than the summer wind.
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