Posted originally on the

Archive of Our Own

at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/5147663

.

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationship:

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

Character:

Sirius Black

,

Remus Lupin

,

Narcissa Black Malfoy

,

Bellatrix Black

Lestrange

,

Regulus Black

,

Walburga Black

,

Lyall Lupin

,

James

Potter

,

Albus Dumbledore

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

,

Alternate Universe- non magic

,

modern marauders

,

pretend boyfriend

,

French!Remus

,

First Kiss

,

Pining

,

grieving a parent

,

Homophobia

Stats:

Published: 2015-11-05 Words: 5221

Remember Me

by

orphan_account

Summary

Remus Lupin was having an Ordinary Tuesday. That is, until a strange boy grabs him and

offers him money to play the boyfriend. Remus thinks it will all be fine, until he's pulled

into Number 12 Grimmauld place, and finds himself swept away by Sirius O. Black.

Notes

Written for the tumblr Anon prompt: Have you ever thought of doing a "i need a boyfriend

to introduce to my parents so Im paying you but hotdamn I think im falling in love with

you?"

Well I hope this satisfies. I don't think it entirely follows the normal trope pattern for this

prompt. I got a bit lost on the dynamic of the Black Family and everything. It does get a bit

sad, but then it gets better? So hopefully it's alright. I kind of ended it abruptly only

because I'm working on a few longer projects and didn't want to delay this. So it's just a

short thing. Either way, I hope you like it, Nonny! xx

It was an ordinary Tuesday. Or at least, it seemed that way. There was nothing abnormal about the

way Remus Lupin woke. Or the way he pulled his favourite jumper on, the one with the frayed

cuffs and front pocket. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the way he slipped a beanie

over his curls, and padded barefoot down to the kitchen where the kettle waited.

Nothing strange at all about the way he saw his dad passed out on the sofa, and the way he

carefully avoided waking him as he sipped his Yorkshire, a double bag for the extra boost even if

it made the tea taste bitter and disgusting.

There was nothing bizarre or unique about the way he slipped on his boots, and took the car keys

with him so his dad couldn’t drive as he left the flat. It was the winter hols, most of the students at

home now for the holidays. There were Christmas decorations everywhere, which left a bitter taste

in his mouth as he passed by most of the shops.

Not that he had a problem with Christmas per se. But it was exhausting all the assumptions, even

by the lads at his old school who pretended to be understanding about the fact that he was Jewish

until it was funny or inconvenient. But he grew up with that, honestly.

He’d hoped it would be different when they moved to London. His aunt had passed on two

months before his mum did, leaving his dad the flat and the clean-up that came with it. She’d lived

there two long decades alone with two cats—who were mysteriously missing still—and hadn’t

done much in the way of cleaning.

Remus was allowed a holiday from school when his mum passed, but before he went back his dad

announced they would be leaving Rouen and moving to London. “They’ve got something similar

there for you to finish school,” he announced. “You’ll be in your last year of sixth form. Your

studies will transfer over, and your English is alright.”

It was, only because for the eighteen years his dad had been living in Rouen with his mum, he

never spoke a word of French. It left Remus the translator any time they went anywhere—though

he suspected for years his dad spoke French perfectly and just refused to let on. Not that Remus

blamed him. His dad looked Jewish and they were less than friendly there about it.

So now they were in London—on this perfectly ordinary December day and Remus was thinking

about using the handful of quid he had in his pocket to buy a new book and find some café

somewhere that he could read the afternoon away. The last thing he wanted was to sit round and

watch his dad sleep off the bottles of booze from the night before. It was starting to eat away at

him, watching his dad succumb to the grief.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t miss his mum—he did. Fiercely. He missed the quiet, whispered

conversations in his mother tongue. He missed the way she just understood him. He missed how

she didn’t look at him with pity in her eyes as he sat there full of scars and old battle wounds from

a vicious accident his dad still blamed himself for. He was just Remus with her.

But he also wasn’t going to wallow. He wanted to move on. He was struggling enough as it was

to catch up to what the other students in his form had already learnt—though he wasn’t too far

behind. But learning in English was far different than speaking it, and he was grateful for the

holiday because he was damn exhausted.

So now he was walking the path to the little bookshop he’d found a few days prior. It had loads of

old books with leather bound covers that had the smell of ancient and fantastic all over them. The

old, barmy man who ran the shop with his fantastic white beard and half-moon specs kept offering

Remus a discount, and the promise of untold adventures was too great to pass up.

So he made his way along the row of very posh homes toward that little shop, feeling a bit out of

place, and trying to hurry.

And then, everything went upside down. Because things stopped being ordinary.

A hand poked out from one of the gates separating the posh flats from the main road. It was

attached to a thin arm covered in white shirtsleeves. The long, bony fingers curled round his

jumper and yanked him inside the gate. The crashing of wrought iron rang through his head as he

was roughly shoved against the wall and for just a moment, he wondered if he was being mugged.

Then his amber eyes looked to the side and saw one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen in

his life. He was shorter than Remus by nearly an entire head. He was thin, dressed in a crisp white

shirt and pressed trousers. He had long hair, twisted into a bun at the back of his head, though bits

of fringe parted in the middle hung loose, framing his eyes. And his eyes oh…those were

fantastic. Narrowed and grey, set just under manicured brows. He had a sharp, aristocratic nose,

and cheekbones that could cut glass.

His mouth was thin, curved into a slight sneer as he raked his gaze up and down Remus.

“You’ll do,” he said after a second, his accent sharp and posh.

Remus coughed. “Qu’est-ce tu fait?” he blurted.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck me. Do you speak English? Because I know Thai and I know

like basic GCSE level German, and I really fucking need a win right now, mate.”

Remus licked his lips, then nodded. “Yes, I speak English.”

“But you’re French.” The boy released him, then tapped his chin. “No actually that works,

because they fucking hate the French. Maybe more than they hate the idea of me having a

boyfriend.”

Remus blinked, confused. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes. And that’s you, er…” He glanced down at Remus’ hands, his eyes fixing on the small

moon tattoo Remus had on the inside of his wrist. Unconsciously, Remus pulled his sleeves down

over his fingers just as the boy said, “Moony.”

“Remus,” he corrected.

“Gesundheit,” he said.

“That’s my name,” Remus stressed, wondering why he cared so much. Let this random, very

strange boy call him Moony. Who cared?

“I’m Sirius,” the boy said after a second. He looked Remus up and down again. “Alright, Moony,

here’s the deal. I’m stuck at this fucking ridiculous family function. It’s a sort of…Christmas-slash-

engagement party. And my sodding sorry excuse for a mother is trying to get me to agree to

consider marrying one of my distant cousins.”

Remus pulled a face. “Oh.”

“Exactly, mate. Exactly. Which is where you come in.”

Remus coughed again, then crossed his arms. “How?”

“Well, I tell them that you’re my big, giant gay boyfriend, that’s how. And I can’t possibly marry

Cassiopeia or whichever of those hideous sirens she’s trying to pawn me off to, because I’m hella

gay.”

Remus swallowed, then asked, “Well are you?”

Sirius smirked. “Does it matter? Well let me tell you, mate, it doesn’t. The only thing that matters

is you play your part, and very well, and you get paid.” With that, Sirius reached into his pocket

and pulled out a wad of paper money which, if Remus guessed right, was somewhere near two or

three hundred quid.

“How do you have that much money?”

Sirius quirked and eyebrow, then looked down at his cash. “Oh. We’re very rich. Anyway, do we

have a deal?”

Remus wanted to say no, because this was just too bizarre to even contemplate right then, but

Sirius was very pretty, Remus was definitely fine with not being straight for the afternoon—

mostly because he was not on any given day—and he could really use the money. Really really.

“Well, alright.”

“Good. And be very French, okay?”

“Well I am very French,” Remus corrected.

Sirius snorted. “Right but like…very French. Maybe smoke. And cuss a lot. In French, not

English. Also be rude about Christmas. My mother loves Jesus more than she loves my little

brother.”

Remus almost laughed. “I’m Jewish.”

“Fuck. I fucking won the lottery with you, Moony! You know what, I’m getting you something

big and shiny after this if it gets me out of any more of these fucking holiday parties.” Sirius

looped his arm through Remus’ and started to drag him toward the door with a massive, silver

number Twelve in the centre.

“Er…”

“Don’t get cold feet, now,” Sirius hissed in his ear. “Don’t get too far from me, either. They never

believe a word I say, and they’re going to try to separate us to prove you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Well they’re not wrong, are they?”

“Hardly the point,” Sirius said, waving his hand in the air. With one hand on the door knob and

the other on Remus’ arm, he stopped. “You know what, you don’t speak English.”

“Yes I d—”

“No,” Sirius said very pointedly. “You don’t.”

Licking his lips, Remus sighed. “Right.” If the situation hadn’t been so surreal he was half-sure

this was some sort of fever dream, he probably would have balked more. Instead he let this

complete stranger pull him into the flat and through a dark corridor to a massive parlour where

there were dozens of people standing round in rather smart clothes.

There was a lull in conversation when several of the people turned to look at Sirius, who was

sticking his nose in the air with a casual expression that told the room he didn’t care what they

thought. The only indication that he noticed them at all was the slightly more pained grip Sirius

had on Remus’ arm as he dragged him further through the room, round a corner, and into a

kitchen.

There was a tray of champagne glasses sat on the counter, and Sirius lifted one to his lips, taking it

down in one go. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then grabbed two more,

handing one to Remus.

“There you go, mon petit ami.”

Remus quirked a brow, but put the glass to his lips and took the tiniest sip he could manage. Over

the rim, he watched Sirius gulp down half of his, then let out a breath as he surveyed the open

area. There was a chef in there, cooking away and paying no mind whatsoever to Sirius, which

told Remus this might have been a somewhat regular occurrence for this eccentric boy.

He wanted to ask more questions, but as he was currently not supposed to know any English, he

kept his mouth shut.

Several moments later, two women marched in. They had very similar faces, though one had

striking blonde hair, the other a bit of frizzy black which was tied away from her face. They were

wearing drab coloured dresses, and the dark haired one looked like she might be inches away

from committing mass murder.

“What the hell is this?” she hissed.

“Oh, Bella,” Sirius said loftily, raising his nose again, “I didn’t see you there. Have you met my

boyfriend? Remus?”

Both women looked over at Remus, a look of disbelief on their face. “This is a new low for you,

Sirius,” said the blonde.

“Oh, you think so? I guess I haven’t been trying very hard,” Sirius retorted.

“This is my engagement party,” the blonde hissed.

“And also some party which I’m supposed to marry Cassie? All of you are fucking mental if you

think for a second I’m going to marry a cousin and add to this fucked up genetic pool. I mean, if

you want to mingle with the inbreds, ‘Cissa, be my guest. But leave me out of it.”

The one called Bella took a threatening step toward Sirius. “It’s your duty,” she hissed, “as the

heir apparent…”

“What the fuck does that even mean, Bella?” Sirius slung his arm round Remus and pulled him

close, almost holding him like a security blanket. Remus took a lazy sip of his champagne and

tried to pretend like he had no idea what was going on. “Heir apparent. We’re not aristocrats

anymore. This old money…which honestly how much of it actually exists…”

“Your mother’s going to kill you,” the one called Cissa replied. “You know that, don’t you? She’s

going to flay you alive.”

Sirius lifted his chin. “Do you know how much of a fuck I do not give?”

The women then turned their eyes on Remus who felt decidedly threatened. “And this boy of

yours? What’s he to say about all this?”

The door opened again, and another boy stepped in. He looked strikingly like Sirius, though a bit

younger with shorter hair. He was watching the exchange, locking gazes with Sirius for a second,

but Sirius didn’t miss a beat.

“Well he likely has no idea. He doesn’t speak any English. He’s French.”

There was a collective shudder in the room, and the one called Bella blinked rapidly. “French.

You’ve got a French speaking boyfriend and you don’t speak French?”

“If this is another one of your ridiculous…” Cissa started.

“I hardly need to speak French to suck his cock, do I?” Sirius deadpanned. “I mean what’s there

to know. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Ce soir?”

This time Remus was unable to hold back a snort, but as he’d been taking a drink of his

champagne, he choked on it. Sirius grinned, thumping him on the back. “He’s gagging for it

almost constantly.”

“You are disgusting,” Bella hissed at him. “Regulus, get out of here. You don’t need to see this.”

Sirius pulled Remus close, putting his nose into his cheek and breathing into his ear. “I might kiss

you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oui,” Remus breathed back. He decided he very much didn’t like these people, in spite of not

being sure Sirius was a good person at all. And in spite of having no background information.

“Reg could do with a little culture. A little outside influence, couldn’t you, Reg?”

The younger teen looked uncomfortable, then said, “Mum’s looking for you. Rumour spread

about your er…croissant.”

Sirius snorted with laughter, then, surprising everyone, stuck his tongue in Remus’ ear, making

him squeak. With a wolfish grin, showing a line of very white teeth and incredibly sharp canines,

he took Remus by the chin and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

It was short, and Remus processed two things about it—Sirius tasted nice, and his kiss felt very

good indeed. His cheeks heated up with a blush as Sirius’ grip on his shoulders tightened.

“Tell mum she can suck my…”

“Sirius,” Bella all-but shrieked.

“I’m taking my boyfriend upstairs to shag him stupid. If anyone needs me, please wait until I’ve

removed the sock from the door.” With that, he thread his fingers into Remus’ and yanked him

through a second door, which led up a dim staircase framed by painted portraits of people who all

looked a lot like Sirius.

He didn’t have time to get a proper look round, however, as he was unceremoniously dragged

through a second corridor, and through a door which had Sirius O. Black on a silver plaque nailed

to the front.

The door slammed, the sound ringing loud in the dim room. Then Sirius dove for a switch on the

wall and three lamps flooded the room with a hazy yellow glow.

For a second, Remus took in his surroundings. The place was a mess—like Sirius seemed to be.

His bed was unmade, floor untidy with bits of cut-outs from magazines and clothes. The walls

were all-but covered with posters of seventies punk bands and eighties glam rockers. Three rather

expensive looking guitars hung on hooks near the window, and there was a mirror covered in

photos, only a small space in the centre where anyone could see their reflection.

“Well, so far so good,” Sirius said, yanking the tie out of his hair and letting his long, black locks

spill over his shoulders.

Remus looked at him for a while and decided he was very good looking indeed. “That was…very

strange,” Remus said.

“I’m sure. I mean, not for me, of course,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “Something like

this is always going on here. “But I’m sure it’s a bit bizarre for you.”

Remus hummed, then walked to the bed and sat down without an invite. “I don’t think I like them

very much.”

Sirius barked a laugh, crossing his arms as he leant against his half-open wardrobe. Threadbare t-

shirts poked out of the drawers, and beside one of the cracked doors, Remus could see a stack of

ripped jeans. “Well at least you’re a somewhat decent judge of character. Though I have to

wonder about you, Moony. What sort of bloke just goes in to pretend to be someone’s

boyfriend?”

“What sort of bloke grabs a perfect stranger off the street? I might be a killer, set on murdering you

in your own home.”

“Well I think you’d be doing everyone a favour if you did,” Sirius said, and the sharpness of his

tone startled Remus a bit. But he cut it with another wolfy grin. “Anyway, just a few more

minutes and mummy dearest will be storming in. Then I’ll snog you a bit, and you can be on your

way.”

Remus frowned. “And that’s it? You don’t think I should stay?”

“Do you want to stay, Moony? Round these dreadful people who would hate literally everything

about you if only they knew?”

Remus licked his lips. “Hardly fair to make you do it on your own.”

Sirius stared at him, then walked over and yanked him up by the front of his jumper. He stuck his

hand deep into Remus’ pocket, letting his fingers press hard against Remus’ thigh as he deposited

the cash there. His face was very close, close enough for Remus to feel the hot breath on his

cheeks.

“You seem like a good sort. That could get you into trouble being round people like me.” Sirius

licked his lips slow. “You’re also very pretty.”

“No I…”

Sirius reached his free hand up and drew the tips of his fingers along the scars peppering Remus’

cheeks. “Werewolf attack?”

Remus let out a slow breath. “Car accident.”

“Sounds dreadful.” If possible, Sirius’ face got even closer.

Remus gulped. “Took me four years to learn how to walk again. Still difficult on cold days.”

Sirius’ hand moved from Remus’ cheek to his hip, then curved it round his lower back. “Like

today?”

Remus nodded, saying nothing. How bizarre was it that he just wanted to kiss this boy and make

him shut up. Make him hold him. Something. Anything.

There were footsteps on the stairs now, and Sirius’ grip on him tightened. “Going to kiss you.

Then you get the hell out of here before anyone can say or do anything, alright?”

Remus nodded, wanting to say something else, to assure him he wouldn’t leave if Sirius didn’t

want him to. But there was no time. Sirius’ mouth was on him in earnest, kissing him with tongue

and teeth. Hot breath mingled together, and for a second Remus couldn’t tell where he started, and

Sirius ended.

Sirius’ gentle fingers came up, ripping Remus’ beanie off as he shoved the taller boy against the

wardrobe. His fingers twisted round Remus’ tight curls, tugging just a bit, just enough to make

Remus moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Sirius breathed.

Remus, for just a moment, forgot why they were doing this. Until the door banged open and a

furious woman’s voice pierced the lusty fog surrounding them. “Sirius, this is a new low, even for

you.”

The words were almost echoed exactly from the woman earlier in the kitchen, only this person

sounded cold. Hateful. Remus shivered as Sirius ripped his mouth away.

“What the fuck do you want? I’m busy.”

Remus blinked up and saw the woman, imposing though short the way Sirius was. She had one

hand on the door frame, her cold eyes looking anywhere but at Sirius or Remus.

“Everyone saw that. Everyone.”

“Was rather the point,” Sirius drawled. He drew his hand up Remus’ waist, giving it a squeeze,

making Remus blush hard. “I mean, it should be clear now I can’t get it up enough to fuck a bird,

mummy dear. So no point in marrying me off.”

“I told you what would happen if you pulled something like this again, Sirius.” The threat in her

voice gave Remus a violent chill, and he tightened his grip on Sirius, not wanting to let him go.

Sirius, however, stood his ground. “And what the fuck are you going to do about it, really?”

“Your friend should go.”

Sirius turned back to Remus, boldly drawing his fingers under his bottom lip. He kissed him swift

and hard. “Go. Get the fuck out of here,” he whispered. “But don’t forget me. I will not forget you

anytime soon, Moony.”

It was almost in a daze that Remus was hurrying down the stairs, round the corner and down that

dark corridor toward the front door. He caught a glimpse once more of Sirius’ younger brother

watching him with curious eyes, but he didn’t stay. He burst out the door and with a pocket full of

more money than he’d seen in a long time, he ran.

***

Seven Months Later

Remus turned the key to the shop’s front door and stepped in. He was met immediately with the

musty smell of the old books he loved so dearly. The owner, a barmy old man called Albus

Dumbledore, had made him shop manager almost immediately.

“I would only trust someone who loved these books as much as I do,” he’d said to Remus. “And

I’m getting on in my years and I’m going to need to pass on my legacy to someone who truly

understand what it means.”

Remus had no words for that, really. He planned to spend his gap year before University working

in the shop, and maybe—if he really felt it was right—he would just stay. If Albus truly wanted

him to.

One thing Remus Lupin did every day, however, was dedicate several minutes to remembering a

certain teen called Sirius O Black. He hadn’t seen him again, though he found himself making his

way past Grimmauld Place every now and again. Just in case.

He gave the entire wad of cash to his father when he got home that afternoon, refusing to tell Lyall

where it had come from. Lyall took it, and for the first time in seven months didn’t spend it on

liquor.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, Remus could feel those lips on his. The desperate hands clinging

to him because it was obvious Sirius needed someone, but hadn’t let Remus get close enough. He

hadn’t let him stay long enough.

Remus worried every day what had happened to him.

But as the months went by, he stopped wondering so much. Just his several minutes per day to

remember that beautiful boy with the soft lips and desperate hands.

It took all of twenty minutes to put the shop in order before Remus flicked on the soft, glowing

open sign in the window. He cracked the door with a stopper to let a breeze through, then sat

behind the cash till to wait. On a good day he’d have a handful of customers, but it was also a

Tuesday and nothing remarkable ever happened on Tuesdays. At least, not since the one he’d met

Sirius Black.

He picked up a book he’d found in the very back. It was a love story written in French, the book

typed but had never been published. He’d asked Albus about it, who just gave him a smile, and

twinkle in his eye and said, “Oh I very much think you’ll enjoy that one.”

So far, he was. It was a love story, the sort where they fall together, fall apart, only to meet years

later as different people but no less drawn to one another. He was almost finished with it, and

desperately wishing there was more.

Lost in the final pages, Remus didn’t hear the small bell on the door, nor did he look up at all until

a throat cleared. Dropping the book down to the counter, he looked up with wide eyes, and for a

moment thought maybe he was hallucinating. Because maybe he always saw Sirius O Black in

one of the book’s characters and for a second, he was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Good read, is it?” Sirius was giving him that same, playful smile, his sharp canines poking out

just a bit over his bottom lip.

Remus felt his breath stick in his throat. “Er. Yes, it is.”

Sirius chuckled a little, then looked over at the person who was with him. Remus was startled to

see the brother, watching with wide, dark grey eyes. “Reg, you remember my boyfriend. Remus.”

Remus blinked, then couldn’t help a flutter in his stomach which created a wide smile. “What are

you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve come to offer you tea. James said it’s a good first step.” Sirius brandished a paper take-

away cup with tendrils of steam escaping the small hole in the top. “It’s er…got milk and two

sugars. How I take it. Really how any civilised person should take it. But you’re French so I can’t

be sure.”

Remus wondered for a moment if he should be insulted, but the smile on Sirius’ face was

distracting, and he accepted it. “Merci.”

“So,” Sirius said. “Am I forgiven?”

Confusion set in then, and he watched as Sirius’ gaze darted out the window to the shop, so he

followed it to a tall, Indian man with wild, wind-swept hair who was stood outside, his arm round

a lovely redhead. He was bent low, talking into her ear, and she was laughing.

“James,” Sirius said, jutting his chin toward the window.

“Ah. The er…best friend?”

Sirius nodded. “Only brought Reg in with me because he was convinced for a while you were a

figment of my imagination.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow at the younger teen. “But you saw me.”

“He’s done stranger things to my head,” Regulus defended, his tone a bit smug and defensive.

Sirius chuckled, then gave his brother a nudge. “Go wait out with James. I’ll be done in a few

minutes. Maybe.”

Remus watched the younger boy go, and when the door shut, he turned back to Sirius. “So what

am I forgiving you for?”

“Paying you to be my boyfriend,” Sirius said, one shoulder shrugging up and down. “I was…”

He drew a hand down his face and took in a long breath. “I was in a bad way then. Very bad

way. Trying to wind up my mum and it…I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

Remus swallowed, staring down at the tea, but he didn’t take a drink. “Er. Alright.”

“James said it was very wrong of me to kiss you, then pay you for it.”

Remus felt his cheeks go a bit flush. “Well if I said I would have kissed you anyway? Does it still

count as very wrong?”

Sirius looked like he couldn’t help the sun-burst of smile breaking across his face. “Why Moony,

are you saying you enjoyed your mad afternoon at mine?”

Remus looked away. “It was…surreal.” With a breath, he turned back to Sirius and reached across

the counter, very gently touching his hand. “Were you…are you…alright?”

Sirius looked down at Remus long, thin fingers, then back up with wonder in those stormy eyes.

“Truth?” Remus nodded, holding his breath a bit. “I wasn’t. Not then. It was…when you left I…”

He took a long breath. “Mum went mental. Brought my father in who was less than kind. Ended

up a bit battered on James’ doorstep. His mum and dad took me in. Got disinherited, but good

riddance to bad rubbish, I say. I finished out my sixth form. Jamie and I travelled a bit this

summer, you know. Went to see some of his family in India. That was nice. Got my head on

straight. Well…so to speak.”

Remus swallowed thickly. “I should have stayed. It felt wrong of me to leave. You weren’t safe.”

Sirius shook his head. “You were a complete stranger. I should have never dragged you into that.

I really am, you know. Sorry.”

“No,” Remus said. “Don’t.”

Sirius shrugged, then leant further on the counter, resting his elbow with his arm up, chin on his

knuckles. “So tell me, Moony, have you got any interesting stories whilst I was away? Did you

spend that money on something fantastic?”

Remus smiled, his head shaking back and forth. “Gave it to my dad, actually. He wasn’t doing

well after my mum passed. But it helped. He’s better now.”

There was a flicker of something in Sirius’ eyes, but it was gone as he smiled. “So no grand

adventures. You didn’t run off to France to forget about me?”

Remus shook his head again, the left corner of his mouth twitching. “I walked by yours. Thought

you might still be there and maybe… come out. Show me you were alright.”

“Reg might have mentioned he’d seen the phantom boyfriend a time or two.” Sirius winked when

Remus blushed. “He saw you with that barmy old man the other day. S’how I found you.”

“Ah.” Remus absently ran his fingers into his curls. “So here you are, then.”

“Here I am.” Sirius’ grin was wolfish and sharp. “So, Moony…” He trailed off, his free hand

creeping closer toward Remus’. “Moony. Were I to ask you for another kiss…”

Sirius’ words were cut off as Remus decided to be very brave for one of the first times. His hand

darted out, grabbing Sirius by the front of his shirt, and pressed their lips together. Sirius mumbled,

then his lips went soft and pliant, parting just a little, sliding up to Remus’ like they always

belonged there and nowhere else.

Letting out a small hum, Remus backed away. “Sorry.”

“Er. No. No that was…very lovely indeed.” Sirius was blushing faintly now, just a stroke or two

of pink across those sharp cheekbones. “And if I were to maybe ask you to go on a date with

me…”

“I would say yes,” Remus said in a hurry.

“Oh. Good.” This time Sirius’ smile was bright, a little sappy if truth be told, but Remus didn’t

mind at all. “So tonight then.”

Remus nodded. “Definitely. I’m done here at six. Pick me up?”

Sirius leant across the counter again, this time taking the lead, and when he was done he pulled

back, pressing his forehead against Remus’. “I will be here. You can count on it.”

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