Sirius never remembers to shave. His jaw is rough when Remus kisses him good morning, all stubble and warmth and sleep. It scratches, but Remus never minds. He leans into it, like a reminder that Sirius is still here, still real, and still his.
Sirius grins when Remus complains. “You love it,” he says, voice hoarse from sleep. He stretches like a cat, half draped across the sofa, sunlight catching the edges of his scars.
Remus hums. “I love that you’re lazy.”
“That’s love,” Sirius says, eyes glinting. “You get the full package. Scruff included.”
He kisses Remus again, slow this time. Coffee gone cold on the table. The world outside still turning.
Remus feels the rasp of Sirius’s jaw against his skin and thinks of every morning Sirius wasn’t there. Empty beds, quiet kitchens, long winters.
He presses closer until there’s no space left between them. “Don’t shave,” he murmurs.
Sirius laughs, breath warm against his throat. “Didn’t plan to.”
Remus smiles into his shoulder, the sound of it low and steady. The kind of peace they never thought they’d earn.
He stares at the circling dots, Dumbledore pacing in his office, Marlene and somebody called Dorcas Meadowes out in the gardens (he makes a mental note to ask her later), Peeves looming about the prefect's bathrooms. Every single place on the fucking campus, from Hagrid's Hut to the Quidditch changing stalls, including all the secret passageways that lead to Hogsneade, and the Forbidden Forest in depth.
The Marauders’ Map.
Is now in full working condition.
A sense of pride fills Remus’ stomach, a smile pulling at his lips. It's a testament of their combined skill: Sirius’ hatred of rules, James’ unwavering optimism and Peter's creativity.
Remus is not tearing up.
“Sirius,” Remus turns, shaking him awake. “Sirius, get up.”
“Mphh,” Sirius flops over, a strand of hair in his mouth. Remus reaches over to tug it away.
“What ungodly hour d'you call this?” he grunts, rubbing his eyes. "Baby, are you crying?" Sirius sits up at once, all sleepiness gone, concern creasing his face.
Remus shakes his head, trying to calm himself. “Remember how you managed to plot the people last week? On the map? Yeah I got them to move. It can track movements now.”
“You mean,” Sirius gasps. “It's done?”
Remus nods vigorously, a hysterical laugh falling out of his mouth. “It's done, Pads.”
“You bloody genius,” Sirius gushes fervently, and he's tugging Remus down by his neck for a warm, loving kiss. Remus melts into it, and they don't plan to pull away anytime soon.
As a result, neither of them realise how a certain James Potter's dot is traveling across the map with Regulus Black's towards the Astronomy Tower.
With a deep sigh, Remus dropped his bags, falling face-first onto the couch.
Sirius emerged from the bathroom, tossing the towel over his shoulder. "Long day?"
Remus grunted.
"What is that in your hair?" he stepped closer, as if whatever it was could bite him.
"Playdough, mixed with glue," Remus murmured, having completely given up on life.
"You should have chosen a different profession," Sirius answered softly, carefully placing one hand on his back.
"I like teaching. And I like most of the kids. And they need a good teacher; someone who can provide for their needs. It's just that one little fucker that I can't get to behave. And he is dragging everyone else along."
Sirius started untying Remus' shoes and placing them down on the floor before he lay down on top of his husband, which seemed to relax him at least a little.
"I know you don't like hearing that, but maybe you need to be a little harder on him."
Remus shook his head, as much as he could in that position. "I hate to give kids extra work. They're supposed to have free time for hobbies and friends and self-development. You shouldn't take that away, it's not good for them."
Sirius buried his face in Remus' shoulder, trying to escape the piercing smell of glue.
"How did they tame you?" Remus asked eventually.
"Back in school? They didn't. I was a propper pain in the ass."
"I know that, but you got better. Third grade, you sat through a bunch of classes without yelling or interrupting. You still didn't pay attention, but at least you didn't bother anyone."
Sirius hesitated for a minute. "I saw how much those classes meant to you. You actually enjoyed learning and reading and all that shit. I didn't wanna mess that up for you. Plus, whenever you didn't understand something in class you had to read up on it afterwards, which meant that you didn't have as much time for me."
"So I gotta make sure that he becomes friends with one of the nerds?"
"It could be worth a try," Sirius shrugged before pushing himself back up. "Now let's do something about that hair of yours."
(300 Franc (old currency France doesn’t use anymore) is 45.73 euros, or 53.6 US dollars or 39.58 British pounds)
It was the winter holiday. Something (Sirius had learned last year) was filled with laughter, presents and happiness.
It was no surprise the Black family had decided to assemble in his grandfather Arcturus’ mansion for a Yule celebration.
Sirius absolutely despised family meetings and this time it would be even worse, because he and Regulus still hadn’t talked since his brother’s sorting ceremony. Maybe the forced proximity would force them to fix it somewhat.
However, being here wasn’t all that bad, since Arcturus lived in Paris. Yule not having started yet, his parents actually preferred him outside of the house, which is why Sirius is now exploring the France capital city full of wonder.
He had been here before, even visited the main landmarks when his parents still had some form of trust in him. But now he was just wandering through alleyways. His pocket was heavy with the 300 Franc his uncle Alphard had handed him with a secret wink. So now he was out here, looking for a gift for his little brother.
Suddenly, he spotted a beany in exactly the color of Remus’ hair. They had just grown a little closer this year, ever since Sirius had found out that Remus was a werewolf. He hadn’t even told James, but wanted Remus to know he was okay with it. Luckily that had the desired effect; Remus had been less tense after that.
The Marauders hadn’t agreed on buying eachother presents, but Sirius knew Remus would be returning with a new pair of second hand shoes while James, Peter and he got smothered in presents.
Also, it would be just as useful as new shoes, since that witch of Remus’ Matron insisted on trimming his head bald every time he returned. Remus had enough on his platter, he didn’t need headaches from the cold with that.
A little shy, Sirius walked up to the sellswoman. With his perfect French he was taken as a native, which prevented him from being scammed (not that he would know that). He placed the beanie on the counter and counted out the right amount of money (not noticing the woman’s bulging eyes at how much he was carrying). With a sweet smile, he went on.
It was only when he was wrapping the gift in bright red wrapping paper (with little snowmen!) that he noticed the brandicon. A howling wolf.
Día De Los Muertos - Sirius's birthday shrine - part one
@wolfstarmicrofic, maybe this is something?? made by a.m. on 11/02/25
Sirius died.
Remus went mute. He didn't have anyone to lean on anymore. He didn't have a reason to get up anymore.
Except for one thing.
Sirius's birthday.
And something Kingsley Shacklebolt had told him about recently, Día de los Muertos.
Kingsley had gone all about and into detail about how his family had sometimes done it - easy.
You built a shrine with all the stuff you could gather from your loved one's and maybe even wrote a letter. Some marigold petals sprinkled across so they'd knew where to come, maybe some salt for purification.
Easy. Right?
On the night of October 31th, Remus didn't sleep. He spent his night in Sirius's bed, tossing and turning, trying to think of what he could possibly ad for Sirius. And for James. And for Lily. And Peter, Marlene, Mary-
Remus turned on his back, looking at the old, dusty wallpaper and old Gryffindor banners.
Where to even put this shrine?
Kingsley had talked about it so easily. For who had Kingsley done it again? Right, right, far away cousin.
But Sirius isn't a far away cousin. Sirius is...
Remus's breath got caught for an awkward moment. Not going there now, he thought to himself as he rolled onto his right side, staring at the wall, willing sleep, maybe even death to come catch him.
When he closed his eyes all he could see was Sirius's face dissapearing into the Veil.
His- His padfoot. gone.
Only one more day to gather stuff for the shrine, only three more days to give Sirius his first... dead birthday.
The heavy metal door nearly closes before Remus catches it with his toe. He nudges the broken two-by-four from its place against the wall to hold the door open. It catches, and Remus walks a bit away to lean against the brick wall.
It has been a grueling shift. Understaffed on a night that the local university was unknowingly hosting some event that left everyone and their dogs coming to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. His legs burn and his feet ache. He’s already dreading how he’ll feel when he finally gets a chance to sit, not to mention the fifteen minute walk home after his thirty minute bus ride.
Remus slips a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the tight front pocket of his black pants. He was supposed to quit–he did quit, really–but sometimes, coming out the back door for a smoke break is the only chance he gets to stop moving on a shift like this, even if he has to do it next to the garbage cans.
He’s just about to light it, flame poised a breath away from the cut end of the cigarette, when there’s a shout down the alleyway that makes him stop and look up.
A boy runs down the alley–no, not a boy. He’s got to be at least Remus’s age. His long dark hair is swept up into a bun on the back of his head, and the strands that have fallen out of the bun curl around his collar. Jeans and a band tshirt from some band Remus has never heard of cut in a crop that just shows a hit of skin above his belt. He runs toward Remus, glancing back over his shoulder. When he’s only a few feet away, he turns back to Remus with a smile, and all the breath in Remus’s lungs evacuates immediately.
This is the most beautiful person that Remus has ever seen. Silver eyes that pierce Remus to his very soul, and plump pink lips slightly parted. He is flawless, ethereal. Some marble carving of a god that has come to life and now running toward Remus. Adonis
“Can you help me?” he says, stepping up to Remus and glancing over his shoulder again. Remus doesn’t have the ability to make words now and just nods in response. His smile grows. “Great. Follow my lead.”
The man grabs Remus by the shoulders and turns them around until his back is to the wall and Remus stands in front of him. He pulls Remus against him with a hand on his waist and the other coming up around Remus’s neck to thread into his hair. He pulls Remus–who is so shocked that he offers no resistance at all–into a heated kiss.
Remus is kissing a god.
Or, well, more aptly being kissed by him. He’s standing there limply as this man kisses the fuck out of him. The man moves his hand from Remus’s waist around to the small of his back, pulling Remus tightly against him
Remus jolts into action, bringing his hands up to the man’s waist. His fingers meet skin under the rough hem of his shirt. Remus opens his mouth, eagerly joining the kiss. The man hums as Remus licks into his mouth, a pleased noise that spurs Remus on. He pushes the man against the wall, slipping one thigh between his legs.
Behind him, from the entrance of the alley, Remus hears someone running, and some shouts. “Sirius! I know you went this way! Where are you?”
The man under Remus–Sirius, he realizes, if those people were looking for him–grinds down against Remus’s leg and threads both arms around Remus’s neck. He pulls Remus tighter against him, as though he’s hiding behind Remus… because he’s hiding behind Remus!
Which should bother Remus more than it does, honestly. Like why is he hiding? Why was he running? Is he in danger, or is he a criminal? Remus should ask, probably. Only, he slips his hands up Sirius’s sides, hot skin under his hands until one hand connects with a nipple ring, and Sirius moans against his lips. Remus honestly couldn’t give a damn why he’s here.
Sirius breaks the kiss, and if Remus thought he was beautiful before, that’s nothing on the flushed, kiss-swollen version of Sirius standing in front of him now. Sirius glances over Remus’s shoulder, and finding nothing looks back up at Remus. “Thanks, I think they’re gone.”
Remus takes a half step back, suddenly ripped back to the reality of the fact that this is a stranger he has pressed into the wall. “Right. Friends of yours?”
“Not exactly. My cousins.” Sirius grabs the cigarette that Remus still has in his hand and places it between his lips. “Got a light?”
Remus flicks on the lighter in his hand, holding it up behind a cupped hand to light the cigarette. “You were running from your cousins?”
Sirius inhales, lips pursed delicately around the filter. He exhales slowly, a stream of smoke rising between them. “If you knew my cousins, you’d get it.” The last of the smoke seeps out of his mouth with the words.
“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Remus honestly doesn’t care, really. He’s too busy trying to decide if he can kiss Sirius again, or if they’re past that particular activity.
Sirius takes another drag. He drops his hand to the side, wearing a crooked smile. He closes the distance between them, cups the back of Remus’s head, and pulls him into another kiss. Sirius exhales smoke into the kiss.
It’s short this time, a brief meeting of their lips, and when they pull apart, the smoke seeps around them. “I have to go,” Sirius says, though he doesn’t move away.
“Alright,” Remus says. He doesn’t move either.
Sirius lifts his hand, cigarette held between his fingers, and presses it to Remus’s lips. Remus takes it, and Sirius cups his face in his palm as he pulls away. “I really do have to go.”
“Alright,” Remus says. He takes a drag, which is somehow disappointing on its own, and holds the cigarette between pinched fingers.
“See you later, lover boy.” Sirius brushes his lips against Remus’s once more and takes off down the alley again.
Remus watches Sirius until he reaches the corner, glancing back once more with a wink before disappearing. He brings the cigarette back to his lips and inhales deeply. Maybe he should take up smoking again.
The Potter's owl stands at the window of the small cabin Remus and Sirius are staying in. A soft hoot breaks the silence, catching Remus' attention as he sits near the hearth, his book on his lap.
Remus stands and crosses the small room to the window, unlocking the latch. The owl hoots again as he opens the window, its feathers ruffling as it extends one leg, an envelope tied carefully to it.
"Thanks, friend," Remus says, gently untying the parchment. The owl hoots once more before flying off.
"What is it?" Sirius asks.
"More about Harry," Remus says, sighing.
Sirius makes his way over, leaning against Remus with his chin resting on Remus’ shoulder as they both look down at the letter.
"So we're in for another essay of James' fatherly achievements." His arm snakes around Remus' waist.
"And pictures from Lily," Remus adds.
Sirius grins. "Yay."
Remus reads out loud, while Sirius rests his head on his lover's shoulder, content in the quiet moment they share—just the two of them - and the memory of friends in every word on the page.
