Work Text:
There was someone there. But whoever it was, it wasn’t Sirius Black.
He came back anyway. Not because he was thinking about Sirius. He wasn’t, mostly. Nothing that had happened mattered anymore anyway, it had been too long. He probably wouldn’t even have recognised Sirius now.
He walked past Grimmauld Place again that evening. It wasn’t on his way anywhere, but he hadn’t thought about that much before, because the house had always been empty. But now there was a small flicker of light coming from one of the windows on the second floor. Maybe a candle. The house probably didn’t have electricity. In the morning, there had been light in the kitchen, but now the kitchen window was dark again. It couldn’t be Sirius. Maybe Sirius had died and whoever had inherited the house had sold it. Sirius’ cousins had children, maybe the house was theirs.
But it was kind of impossible to think that Sirius would have died. He walked back home and there he looked in the mirror for a little longer than he usually did these days. He looked old. It wasn’t that he had a few lines, it was everything. He couldn’t think of Sirius as dead, but it was equally impossible to think of Sirius as old. He touched his face with both hands. His eyes were too deep in his head, like maybe they were sinking into his skull. When he had been a boy, his father had always seemed old to him. But his father had died at fifty, more than twenty-five years younger than he was now. He didn’t think he could face Sirius anymore, not even if it had been Sirius in the old house.
The next day, it was raining. He walked past the house but couldn’t see light in any of the windows. He stood at the side of the street for a while. It was a quiet street, the neighbours would notice. They would think that he was some weird old man looking into other people’s houses. He should go. And what would he have said to Sirius, anyway? Nothing. There was nothing to say.
He turned around, and there was a man across the street, looking at him.
“Merlin’s balls, you look old,” said Sirius.
**
They went through the backdoor. The corridor shone with weak light. Sirius was tall, maybe taller than he had been. His hair was still dark.
“Maybe don’t touch anything,” he said. “I only came back two days ago.” Then he glanced over his shoulder like thinking that maybe Remus might have stopped following him. The corridor seemed too small, the walls were leaning in. Remus felt a little dizzy. “Are you cold?” Sirius asked. “You were standing in the rain.”
Was it raining? He didn’t remember. Sirius took him to the kitchen and pulled out one of the chairs. He sat down in it.
“We need tea,” Sirius said and started opening and closing the cupboard doors. He had old man’s hands at least. But his fingers were still long. “You can’t freeze to death, I don’t want a corpse in the house.” He glanced at Remus probably to show that he was smiling. Remus couldn’t remember how to smile. “Come on, do I look that bad?” But he didn’t wait for an answer, just kept looking for the tea. Everything in the kitchen was creaking. Remus’ could hear his own breathing inside his head. His coat was a little damp, apparently he had been standing in the rain. His heart was beating like it had gone mad.
Eventually Sirius put a cup of tea on the table in front of him and one for himself and sat down across form him and sipped of his own teacup. They were nice cups. Probably more than 50 years old.
“1936, can you believe,” Sirius said. “Modern times. Sorry about the tea, I know it’s not great.”
Remus shook his head.
“I haven’t had time to take care about things,” Sirius said. “I just came back. From France. I’ve been there. And I must admit, I was wondering if I would see you. I’ve been asking around. I knew that you were still in London. I never knew you liked the city so much.” He was looking at Remus like searching for something. “I’m sorry I said you look old. I wasn’t… I guess I just didn’t expect to see you right then. And, like, maybe I didn’t think so much time had passed. That we would be that much different.” He straightened his back. “Come on, tell me, how do you think I look?”
“Great,” Remus said.
The light in the kitchen flickered. Sirius patted the closest cupboard door.
“Sorry about that. Anyway, I’ve mostly tried to decide where I should start. I tried the drawing room, but it was just too, I don’t know, all that dust and my parents’ old furniture. Feels like their ghosts are still there. I had a dream about my mother one night, can you believe it? I don’t think I had even thought about her in ages. But there she was, sitting in her chair in the drawing room. She didn’t even say anything. But I knew what she would’ve said. It’s an odd thing, really, how much you can remember. Even when you should really forget.”
Remus cleared his throat. “Sirius –“
“Are you cold?” Sirius asked, then stood up. “You must be cold. It was quite cold outside. Come on, we’re going upstairs.”
Remus didn’t think he could move. “Sirius –“
Sirius stopped and looked at him. The light drew long shadows on Sirius’ face. He looked old now. Like all that time had really passed.
“Sorry,” Remus said. “I’m sorry. I –“
“Oh, come on,” Sirius said and touched his arm.
**
Sirius showed him all the rooms. They looked smaller than he remembered them, and lifeless somehow. Like they were walking through a skeleton of a house. All the curtains were pulled in. He thought he could still feel Sirius’ touch on his arm, even though it had only been for a few seconds. In some rooms Sirius looked younger than in the others. In some rooms Remus had never been. He had only been in this house a couple of times, a long time ago, when they had been teenagers and when Sirius had still been living here. He had visited over summer. It had seemed clear that Sirius’ parents hated him. But he had stayed in Sirius’ bedroom and at night Sirius had told him mad stories about the house, everything that had happened here, all the things Sirius’ family had done, bad things, insane things, things he still wasn’t sure Sirius had really told him, things that made his face feel warmer. He touched his cheek. Back then Sirius had been sure that there were ghosts in the house. That all the Blacks that had once lived there were still there. That when they lay on the bed there were a thousand ghosts with them. A thousand? Remus had asked. How many Blacks you think there’s been? And Sirius repeated names from the family tree until Remus stopped listening.
“Hey,” Sirius said now. They were in the second-floor hallway. There were paintings on the walls and they all had Sirius’ eyes. “You’re staying the night, aren’t you?” Sirius asked.
Remus nodded.
“Good,” Sirius said. “Great. I’ll make you a bath.”
Remus opened his mouth to say that he didn’t need a bath.
“Come on,” Sirius said and took him to one of the other bedrooms. There was a bathtub there. He wanted to say that Sirius didn’t need to do this, but Sirius was already bringing buckets of hot water. He hadn’t known Sirius would know how to do that himself.
“What were you doing in France?” he asked without meaning to.
Sirius shrugged. It looked the same, the gesture. “Just, I don’t know. Things. What were you doing in London?”
“I don’t know.”
Sirius glanced at him, then looked away again. “Did you get married?”
“No,” Remus said, then swallowed. “I thought you knew.”
“Well, yeah.” Sirius pulled his sleeves to his elbows and tried the water, kept his hands under for a few seconds. “Too hot,” he said then. “I’m going to get more cold water.”
“Okay.”
The room went darker when Sirius wasn’t there. Remus thought about the ghosts. There were no mirrors in the room. He walked around and stopped at the window, pulled the curtains open. It was already evening outside. Warm light was pouring out from the other houses.
He could feel it under his skin when Sirius’ footsteps came back through the corridor.
“Alright,” Sirius said and poured cold water into the tub. “Now I think it’s alright.”
Remus wanted to ask if Sirius had got married in France. It seemed unfair that Sirius had known something about him and he hadn’t known anything about Sirius, not after 1893 when Sirius had got out of Azkaban. It had been in the newspapers. The old pictures of Lily and James had been printed again, the ones where the artist had got Lily’s nose wrong. There had been a picture of Sirius as well, an old one, from the time when Sirius had been arrested. Remus could barely look at that picture. But he still had it somewhere.
Sirius came over to him and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He let it out from under the waistband of his trousers. His clothes were old and maybe a little too large for him now. He almost waited for Sirius to say something. Sirius would have, before, he would have teased Remus about how shabby his clothes were, but in the way that made him think he didn’t have to hide it, it was alright, it didn’t really matter. He opened the last of the buttons of his shirt and then shrugged it off his shoulders. Sirius helped, his fingertips brushing against the back of Remus’ neck for a second.
“You might’ve,” Sirius said in a quiet voice. It was hoarser now, Sirius’ voice. But it could have been the same. Early in the morning, perhaps. Or if Sirius had caught a cold. “You might’ve got married.”
“No,” Remus said.
“Have you been living alone?”
He nodded.
“Have you at least been with someone?”
He shook his head.
Sirius touched his face with both hands. He startled a little.
“Really?” Sirius asked. He sounded a little frightened.
Remus closed his eyes but couldn’t keep them closed, he would only start to think that this was a dream. Sirius was caressing his hair now. So gently it barely counted. He felt like crying, but it got stuck in his throat.
“Did you get married?” he asked instead. “In France.”
“No,” Sirius said. “No, I wouldn’t. You know that.”
Remus didn’t know anything. The last time he had seen Sirius had been in that police station four days after James and Lily had died. He had thought Sirius had done it. He had really thought that.
“Did you have someone?” he asked.
Sirius nodded. He was holding Remus’ face now with the cup of his hands, following the line of Remus’ mouth with his thumbs, like reading an old map.
“Was it…”
Sirius nodded, then breathed in. “A few. But yeah, they were men.”
“A few.”
“Over the years.” Sirius touched Remus’ eyebrows. “I didn’t think I could come back.”
Remus closed his eyes. He could feel Sirius’ fingertips on his eyelids.
“Maybe I should’ve. Maybe I should’ve tried. A little sooner, I mean.”
“It’s alright,” Remus said.
Sirius kissed him on the mouth. It didn’t feel completely real, and then he realised he was shaking. He opened his mouth a little and Sirius kissed him harder. He tried to touch something, and Sirius took his hand and placed it onto his own back. It was almost like they were embracing each other. He hadn’t kissed anyone in more than fifty years. Fifty years. Fifty years.
“Shh,” Sirius said, pulled back and held his face in his hands. “It’s alright.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Sirius kissed him on the corner of his mouth. It had to be too late now, too late for anything like this, he felt like a ghost.
“Sit down,” Sirius said and made him sit on the edge of the bed, then pulled his trousers out for him, then his socks, then everything that was left. He held onto Sirius’ shoulder and let his fingers slip to touch the back of Sirius’ neck. Sirius knelt onto the floor in front of him, holding onto his thigh with a tight grip. “Sorry,” Sirius said. “My knees.” He kissed the inside of Remus’ knee. He pressed his face against the inside of Remus’ thigh. Remus pushed his fingers into his hair. It was barely thinner at all.
“Your hair’s…”
“It’s still pretty, isn’t it,” Sirius said. “Runs in the family. Like madness.”
“You’re not mad.”
“I might be, a little bit.” Sirius took Remus’ hand and kissed the inside of his wrist, then took his thumb into his mouth, then his forefinger and middle finger. Then he said, “the water’s going to get cold.”
“I –,“ Remus started, but Sirius was already pulling him up onto his feet. He didn’t feel very steady but somehow he managed to climb into the tub. It felt good, the hot water. He could barely stand it. He slid down until he only had his head above the water.
“I’ll wash your hair,” Sirius said. He had never done anything like that to Remus, or at least Remus couldn’t remember. He remembered other things. He remembered lying in the grass near to the castle in a hot summer day when the summer break was about to start but not quite yet. He remembered Sirius rolling onto him and sitting on his lap. He remembered the sound of his own startled laughter. He remembered how Sirius had touched him everywhere, a little too much, he never understood how Sirius had the nerve to just do things, like it was obvious that no matter what, the world would rearrange itself so that Sirius would always be fine. And he was. He was, until he wasn’t.
“Don’t cry,” Sirius said and kissed Remus’ ear, and then he pushed his hand under the water and touched Remus down there. His fingers were so slow, so careful. Like Remus was something that could be broken. After all this time. The grip of his fingers was loose enough that Remus could barely feel it, but he could. He could. “You shouldn’t have been alone all this time,” Sirius said.
“I shouldn’t have…” It didn’t matter. Nothing he could say would ever fix it. “I shouldn’t have believed you had…”
“Stop it,” Sirius said, his voice easy like they were talking about the weather. “It’s fine. I forgave you a long time ago.” But it was a lie, because if he had, he would’ve come back. Right? Right? “Stop it,” he said, and his fingers on Remus’ got a little bolder.
“Not like this,” Remus managed to say. “I want to…”
Sirius stopped. “What? What do you want?”
“I…”
“What do you want?” Sirius let go of him and pulled his hand out of the water, then stroked his hair with his wet hands. “What do you want?”
“Anything,” he said. “Just…” It couldn’t be over too soon. And he needed to touch Sirius.
“Alright,” Sirius said, kissed him on the corner of his mouth and started undressing. He was still dressed like a gentleman. A slightly peculiar gentleman. He took his clothes off and left them onto the floor where they would probably get wet, and then he climbed into the bathtub with Remus. His knee poked Remus in the thigh. His foot poked Remus in between his legs. “Is this okay?”
Remus nodded.
“Great,” Sirius said. The bathtub was too small for both of them. Maybe it wouldn’t have been, before. Remus watched as Sirius washed himself, watched his hands, watched the lines on his face, watched the soft skin on his arms, on his chest, disappearing under water. There was more of grey on his chest than in his hair. Remus had wanted to touch him, all of him, from the beginning. That was how he had known.
He was sitting so close to Sirius, it was almost easy. Even as a boy he had wanted to do this. He had known he wanted more than he could ever get in this life but there was nothing he could do, he couldn’t fix it, he couldn’t stop wanting those things, not even after Sirius was already in Azkaban and he was alone and would be until the end of his days.
Sirius had stopped with the washing and was now holding his wrists loosely. He had his hands on Sirius’ shoulders, then going down on Sirius’ arms, then touching Sirius’ chest under the water. He ran his fingers over the shape of Sirius’ ribs, then touched Sirius’ belly, then pushed his hand lower and touched Sirius where Sirius had touched him. Sirius pulled him closer and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m not the same”, Sirius said, like a warning, then kissed him again. “Let’s get onto the bed.”
**
He didn’t want to stand in front of Sirius, bare like this, all of him. The scars had faded. He had never been good to look at, not like Sirius had been. But at least he had been young. At least he had had all that. And there had never been time for them to just look one another, not like this. It seemed like the light was getting brighter when Sirius told him to stay still. He wanted to ask Sirius not to look at him, but he owed Sirius everything. Everything. His old man’s body was a small thing.
“Hey,” Sirius said. “I haven’t seen you in I don’t even know how long.”
“Fifty years.”
“Fifty years?”
Remus nodded. Sirius was naked too, but somehow it was different. And Remus couldn’t make himself look at him, not properly. It was like something sitting on his chest.
Sirius put his hands on Remus’ sides and then got onto his knees on the floor. Remus wanted to be that. But Sirius buried his face in his crotch and kissed him there. He touched the back of Sirius’ head. “Bed,” Sirius said, still buried there.
Remus thought of the ghosts. The thousand Black family ghosts moving through the walls. The floor creaked. The bed creaked. He lay down and it was better than standing there on the floor and being looked at. Sirius settled against his side like they were lovers. He didn’t remember if they had done this before, even though they must have. There must have been times when they would just lie like this and hold each other.
“I’m going to touch you now,” Sirius said and then touched him.
He hadn’t thought of it as anything back then. But he had known what it was. His fingers found Sirius easily enough. He took it in his hand and followed Sirius’ rhythm the best he could. It seemed to take a long time like this. He thought he remembered that back then, they had sometimes barely managed to touch each other. Now he wrapped his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and pulled Sirius closer until he could feel Sirius’ breaths on his cheek and the warmth of Sirius’ body and the stickiness of Sirius’ skin. He could smell the soft sting of sweat from Sirius’ armpit. He could hear his own noises and Sirius’ and after a while he couldn’t tell them apart. He could feel the ghosts watching. And he could feel the hot burst of Sirius’ seed dripping down from between his fingers at the end of it. It still smelled the same.
Sirius said his name and moved away from him, and for a dreadful moment he felt the cold against his skin. But Sirius grabbed his hand, his sticky hand, squeezed it and with his other hand he touched Remus and took him into his mouth, and it was over.
**
Sirius was stroking his hair.
He blinked his eyes open. He felt heavy and tired and like he had hurt himself but didn’t yet know where. “Sorry,” he said. Maybe he shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Sirius might want him out of his house.
“Don’t be stupid,” Sirius said softly. They were lying under the blanket now. The curtains were ajar and outside there was no light.
“Do you know how…”
“How late it is? No.” Sirius’ fingers were so, so gentle. They hadn’t, before. “Remus? They told me you were dead.”
Remus tried to shake his head, but he was too tired. “No, I’m here.” Sirius was holding him against his chest. He didn’t want to speak, but it had been fifty years. “I thought I would never see you again.”
“I’m here,” Sirius said and kissed him on the ear. “I’m not leaving again.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That I believed you might’ve done it. That I…”
“There was nothing you could’ve done anyway.” Sirius traced an old scar across his forehead with his thumb. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I didn’t think you would be thinking about me anymore.”
“I was always thinking about you,” Remus said. It seemed that maybe he shouldn’t have. As a boy he had been very careful not to say those things out loud. “Sirius?”
“Yes?”
“I think I need to sleep a little.”
Sirius sighed, then hugged him tighter. Like they were one breathing thing. Only one. “In the morning,” Sirius said, “I’m going to make you breakfast.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m going to.”
“Thank you,” Remus said.
There was something knocking on the windows. Probably the wind. He thought about love. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to tell Sirius that he loved him.