Posted originally on the

Archive of Our Own

at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/5562037

.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationship:

Remus Lupin/James Potter

,

Past James/Lily

Character:

Remus Lupin

,

James Potter

,

Sirius Black

,

Lily Evans Potter

,

Harry

Potter

,

Peter Pettigrew

,

Regulus Black

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe- No Magic

,

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

,

divorce fic

,

sharing custody

,

CODA James Potter

,

Deaf Character

,

Deaf Remus

,

Hard of Hearing Sirius

,

Sign Language

,

Slow Burn

,

First Kiss

,

Fluff

,

Angst

,

POC Potters

,

Bisexual James

,

Ace/Aro Sirius

Stats:

Published: 2015-12-28 Words: 9461

Safe and Sound

by

orphan_account

Summary

Moving into his new flat after his divorce, James Potter is surprised to meet his new

neighbour--the ever adorable, sweet, Deaf Remus Lupin. Growing up a CODA, James is

more than happy to meet someone who speaks his mother tongue, but isn't sure what to do

when the feelings of friendship start to turn into something deeper. Freshly divorced, is

James ready to move on?

Notes

Written for the prompt- u kno that post u reblogged about james potter coda, and hoh sirius

who didn't know he was hoh? cud you do that but maybe au with james/remus? i kno ur a

wolfstar shipper but i love ur james/remus so much and theres not enough w/o angst. pls

and thank u!

Well first of all, I will never not agree there needs to be more Remus/James without angst

so hopefully this helps that along. And I was excited to get a request for a Deaf character

because I feel like it's been a long while since I've written one. Secondly it was easy

enough to write CODA James being that I am one so I can totally relate--self insert time

ha! Thirdly I have had this written for several weeks without realising it--I may have

accidentally written most of it then forgot about it for a while. Oops. Lastly, I cannot find

the original HC post the nonny was referencing because their blog is deactivated--so sorry

about that, but it was a brilliant one.

Oh and actual last thing--I didn't write the signs in sign-grammar because it's a pain in the

ARSE to switch from sign grammar to English grammar whilst writing--especially since

this is so dialogue-heavy, but please do take note that sign grammar and English grammar

are nowhere near the same thing.

As it was with any new bed, learning to sleep was a difficult and precarious affair. He spent the

first three hours shuffling the frame round the room trying to find the most ideal spot—on that

would remind him of where he’d been sleeping, but not so much he’d wake up confused thinking

he was there again. And then there was the mattress, comfortable, but not well-worn. And without

the dip in the other side—in spite of the fact she’d been sleeping in the guest room for the last six

months—well it didn’t bode well for his first night in his new flat.

James still managed to drift off somewhere just after three in the morning, and knowing he had a

full week off from work to settle in and “adjust”—such a ridiculous word, really, how does one

adjust to having their entire world upended by divorce and weekend visits with their own child

they haven’t been apart from beyond the occasional business trip—he wasn’t fussed about how

early he was going to be waking.

Only apparently his neighbour, the one who shared his flimsy, sorry excuse for a wall, had other

ideas. He woke to a voice, loud, blaring through and somewhere in his sleep-deprived haze he

thought, ‘Sounds like a ruddy advert, that bloke.’

It took a full forty-five seconds, and a second voice, for him to realise it was, in fact, an advert. He

attempted to ignore it. His body was aching with a desperate desire to fill in his sleep debt, but

even a pillow over his face wasn’t helping.

Of course had this been years ago, before Lily, before Harry, before…well everything, it might

not have bothered him. James Potter grew up in a house the hearing child of two Deaf parents

who often put on the telly or accidentally switched on James’ radio at full volume without

noticing, and James just got used to it. He was the kid who could sleep through literally anything.

But nine years, a hearing wife, a new baby—all changed that.

Eventually he gave up and with a huff, groped for his jogging bottoms and wriggled into a not-

quite-yet-smelly t-shirt. His hair was a mess, but what was new, nothing he could do would

change that, so he stumbled into the hall, sans glasses, and glowered at the small letter C on the

flat next door.

He took a breath, put on his most polite, ‘Hey neighbour, I don’t mean to be a bother but can you

please keep it down a bit,’ face, and politely knocked. After a few moments, James thought maybe

the neighbour couldn’t hear him over the telly, because even out in the hall it was blaring to where

he could actually follow the damned programme, so he pounded harder with the side of his fist.

Still nothing.

Maybe they had a cat or something, who sat on the remote and turned it on?

With a resigned sigh, he started to take a step back, but then saw a small button on the side of the

door, like a buzzer. Ruffling his hair, he shrugged at himself, then gave it a jab. There was no

noise at all, so he reckoned it was some old relic left over from someone who lived there a long

time ago.

But then the door cracked open and half a face appeared in the crack, an amber eye looking at him

accusingly. James took a startled step back, having not expected that at all, and he gave the

neighbour a friendly wave. “Hi, sorry to bother you. It’s just erm…your telly is really loud and I

was…”

Before he could get the last of it out, the door slammed shut again.

“What the bloody hell?” he muttered.

He started to step forward again, to knock and demand to know what kind of rude person would

slam the door in a bloke’s face just like that, when the door thrust open once more and the full

figure of his neighbour appeared.

He was tall, maybe an inch or two over James, and he had a full head of tight, dark-tawny curls.

His amber eyes were wide, staring, his nose large but fitting for his face. He had a slight overbite,

which was currently gnawing on his bottom lip, and his cheeks were depressed into dimples.

“Hi,” James tried again.

The neighbour quickly thrust a notepad over at him, a small biro attached by the cap. There was a

short note scribbled there. ‘Sorry I’m Deaf. Can you write it down?’

James let out a puff of air like he’d been punched because he certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

But considering James hadn’t even learnt to speak a spoken language until he was five, he was

almost excited. So excited, in fact, he shoved the note back at the neighbour who looked startled

and almost offended until James raised his hands.

‘Hi! I sign, so I don’t need to write.’

Blinking, the neighbour looked confused for so long James panicked and thought maybe he

wasn’t British and didn’t know any British sign. Then he carefully set it aside and gave James a

long look. ‘Okay. Who are you?’

James mentally smacked himself on the forehead mostly because had his mother been here she

would have done it for him for being so damned rude. ‘Sorry! I’m your neighbour. JAMES.’ He

nodded to the flat directly next door. ‘I moved in yesterday.’

The man’s eyes widened and just the barest hint of a grin flickered across his lips. ‘Hi. REMUS.’

He then offered up his sign name, Moon, which James wondered about but knew it was rude to

just ask some bloke he’d never met before.

James, of course, offered his own. Deer, which made Remus’ smile widen just a fraction more.

‘Is there something you need?’ Remus asked, his long fingers curving round the signs expertly,

but slower than James expected.

‘Your TV,’ James said, keeping his signs slow just in case this bloke was recently Deaf and

hadn’t got to Deaf speed yet, ‘is really loud. I can hear it straight into my bedroom.’

Remus’ eyes widened, and he backed up into his flat, spinning. James, being that he was a bit

rude, peered inside and saw the telly perched against what would be his bedroom wall. It was on,

blaring some programme he didn’t recognise, and the captions were on. But it was obvious Remus

was unaware of the volume.

With a flush, Remus rushed over and grabbed the remote, and after a second, blessed silence filled

the flat. James let out a breath and grinned widely when Remus turned back to him.

‘Thank you.’

Remus nodded. ‘Sorry. I didn’t notice. My flatmate is hearing and he had some mates over for the

match a few days ago. He’s been away for work and I haven’t turned it on since then.’

‘It’s fine,’ James said, forgetting his pace as his fingers flew. ‘It wouldn’t bother me, only I

haven’t got decent sleep lately due to the move. I’m sorry I bothered you so early.’

Remus gave him a curious look, then said with faster fingers, ‘Your sign is really good.’

James blinked, then let out a small laugh. ‘My parents are Deaf. I’m CODA.’

Remus’ eyes widened and he smiled just a bit more. ‘That’s great. I’ve been living here almost

five years and not once met a person who could sign. Even my flatmate only knows a handful.

Which is why we have the…’ His head nodded to the stack of small notes covering their little side

table.

James felt something familiar twisting in his gut, the old feeling he’d get when he came to the

realisation that most of the world would rather his parents just ‘figure it out’ then actually attempt

to be inclusive or accommodating. How they’d talk to him in restaurants or at the shops when they

realised he was hearing and they were not. How his schools never provided interpreters so he’d be

sat in meetings between his head of house and parents signing all the things he and his best mate

had done to get their record-breaking detentions. And his parents not even really able to be that

cross about it simply because the school assumed James’ behaviour and penchant for tom-foolery

came from the misguided belief that Deaf parents couldn’t properly raise a hearing child.

He pushed it down though, because he’d only just met this bloke and really he was too tired for an

audist rant. ‘Well maybe you could come over for a cuppa when I’m not completely shattered?’

Remus grinned and nodded. ‘Yes. Just come by. Any time. And sorry again about the TV.’

James waved his apology away. ‘It’s okay. It was nice to meet you.’ He then gave Remus a small

wave, backing up toward his own door and didn’t turn away until Remus shut his.

Feeling oddly light, James walked back into his flat, shut the door, and allowed himself a moment

to process. Remus—Deaf neighbour, and who was he kidding, definitely fit—who wanted to

have tea and maybe a full on conversation that wasn’t held at the end of a biro with horrible wrist

cramps.

James could appreciate that. He could appreciate a lot about Remus if he let himself. But now was

not the time.

Now was the time to crawl back under his new duvet—hoping that it would only take a few

nights for him to get used to the new smells and new feeling of his life. Now was the time to start

getting used to the lack of weight on his ring finger, and stop reaching for it when he was going to

shower or wash the dishes. Now was the time to stop listening for Harry every time he realised

how quiet it was, and now was the time to accept things had changed.

Fit neighbours were something for another day. With tea, and conversation after he’d accepted

everything was irrevocably changed, and he’d asked for it.

***

James did manage to sleep after the loud telly incident, and he finally rose sometime near noon.

His stomach was protesting from the lack of food and tea, and he tried his best to shake off the

groggy feeling as he padded into the lounge for his mobile.

There were four texts, three from Sirius asking how he was settling in and begging him for a

skype session later, and one from Lily saying she’d be by on Thursday with Harry if he was ready

for him to be over.

James hadn’t even begun to touch Harry’s new room, not entirely sure what he was supposed to

do with it. Lily had been the one to first decorate the nursery, then over the years subtly shifting it

from baby, to toddler, to kid. Now James had a handful of furniture still in boxes, a mattress

propped against the wall, and that was it.

He reckoned he could take Harry shopping to decorate once he was there, but was this really it?

Was he going to be some weekend father with phone calls and drop off and pick up days?

Scrubbing his face, he sent a text off to Sirius saying he would be free in a few hours, then one off

to Lily saying Thursday would be fine. Which it would be, because he’d be damned if he didn’t

get time with his kid exactly as planned. He was already starting to ache somewhere behind his

ribs that he couldn’t just call Harry into the lounge and throw on an old Doctor Who dvd—their

ritual for when one of them was feeling particularly low, and this was probably one of the lowest

points in James’ life.

A divorce, his best mate having moved to Paris two months before, and Lily trying to be amicable

about the whole thing—but really a split was a split, no matter how mutual, and they weren’t

exactly going to be friends yet, were they?

He chased away the lump in his throat with some toast and black tea, then shuffled over to the

sofa where his laptop waited. He had a few work emails, ones his dad insisted he ignore since

they wouldn’t be needing him at the firm for as long as it took to get settled. He had a couple of

jokes sent from Sirius—voraciously sexual for someone who was completely asexual and

aromantic—and that was it.

His IM from skype pinged and Sirius’ name popped up.

PadfootingUrFace: You’re moping. I can feel it all the way over here.

ProngsAlongs: Am not. In fact had a nice long lie-in and I even met the neighbour who is Deaf,

so I invited him over for tea.

PadfootingUrFace: Is that some weird euphemism I’ll never understand?

ProngsAlongs: No you absolute fucking tosspot, it’s tea. Like proper British people have tea.

PadfootingUrFace: Mate, you’re barely British. You’ve never even eaten a steak and
kidney pie.

ProngsAlongs: You’re honorary Hindu, considering you haven’t had meat since mum practically

adopted you. So you can shut your fucking face. How’s it over there, anyway? Are you French

yet? Enjoying the frog legs and escargot?

PadfootingUrFace: Deflecting isn’t a good sign, Jamie-boy. Honestly how are you? Are you
alright?

James stared at the screen for a really long time and felt an ache for his best friend. Sirius had

grown up complicated. Born to a family who refused to acknowledge he was Hard of Hearing—

so much so that he, himself, didn’t even realise it until James—the good friend he was, pointed

out, “Mate, you can’t understand the prof when she’s not facing you because you’re lipreading

and hearies don’t do that. You’re deaf. Which is alright, you know? My parents are.” If their

friendship hadn’t been solid by that point, well that changed everything.

It sparked a violent streak of rebellion in the eleven year old, who spiralled for years, and

eventually was kicked out and disinherited, only to be brought in by the Potters who got him fitted

with hearing aids and by the time he was off to Uni was fluent in sign and up to his eyeballs in

Deaf Pride.

James and Sirius had been all-but inseparable after that. Closer than friends, closer than brothers,

really. James wondered sometimes if their relationship might have been more except that Sirius

had discovered his own sexuality was asexual and incredibly aromantic. “My bike, Jamie,” he’d

say. “She’s my one true love. No one loves me like she does.”

It was a way of deflecting feeling othered, James knew. Because Sirius had suffered enough of it

and to throw a complicated sexual identity on top of that was just about enough for the poor boy.

But James didn’t care and he loved Sirius no matter what.

Sirius, of course, hadn’t been overly fond of James’ relationship with Lily. It was too fast, he said,

and in a way that was true. They got married for the wrong reasons, he’d said—and James

couldn’t really argue. Who got married because of a pregnancy these days?

Well apparently James and Lily did.

The worst of it was, he did love her, and she loved him. But James, although bisexual indeed,

preferred men and eventually he realised he was unhappy. Well no, Lily realised it first, if he was

being honest with himself. And she was the one who brought up the divorce and put it in the most

simple terms possible.

“I want to be happy, James. I want someone who looks at me the way you used to when we were

eighteen. Don’t you want to be with someone who makes your heart pound?”

“That’s unrealistic, Lils,” James groaned, his elbows leant on the table, hands over his face. “No

one loves like that forever.”

“Yes they do,” Lily said. “You just haven’t realised it yet because I’m not that person for you. Do

you want to be married to me, Jamie?”

“Yes,” he said sharply.

Two hours later he walked into their bedroom and sat on the bed. “No,” he confessed. And it was

true. “I don’t.”

She gave him a quiet, sad smile. “We haven’t slept together in six months, we haven’t had sex in a

year. I love you but I can’t keep on like this. We both know getting married was stupid.”

He looked at a few of their photos. The recent ones of their now-six year old grinning with one

front tooth still missing. “We had a good run though.”

She gave his hand a pat. “We did.”

Then she went to stay with her best friend until James could find a flat and move in.

And here he was.

He stared at the screen, at Sirius’ waiting icon, and he rubbed his face.

ProngsAlongs: Skype me later, okay? I have to run to the shop. We can chat properly then.

PadfootingUrFace: I have holiday time next month. Come and see me. I’m begging here. I
bloody miss you, Jamie.

James swallowed thickly and hated that through all this technology he still couldn’t reach through

the screen and pull Sirius in for the hug he so desperately needed.

ProngsAlongs: Okay. I’ll let dad know. Love you.

PadfootingUrFace: Love you too, you soppy bastard.

James signed off and as he closed his laptop, he threw his head back onto the sofa cushion,

wondering how his life had gotten so utterly and completely fucked.

***

Two days later, James was heading into the building, his arms loaded with his cloth shopping bags

his mum sent him in droves—“For the environment, Jamie.” He hadn’t really considered he didn’t

have his car yet with him, and that he had noticed the lift was down for maintenance but didn’t

think about it when he was filling his trolley with everything he knew his son wanted to eat.

Now he was struggling to get the damned door open, and nearly fell to his face when his foot

caught a bit of broken tile on the floor. There was a slight snort, and he glanced up to see his

neighbour stood there with his post, looking vaguely amused.

‘Help?’

James hesitated, not wanting to look weak in front of his attractive neighbour, but also couldn’t

ignore the sweat now dripping between his brows. He didn’t protest when Remus walked over

and carefully slid the handles of a few off his arm.

‘Thank you,’ James managed with a weak hand. He glowered up at the stairs, but straightened his

back and followed Remus up to their first floor landing. He fumbled with his keys, kicking the

door open, and motioned for Remus to set the bags down on the table which was still half-

occupied with unpacked kitchen boxes.

‘Sorry,’ James said when he had one hand free. ‘I’m still getting sorted.’

Remus waved him off as he looked round, his face not as expressive as most Deaf people James

knew, but he wondered if it came from being surrounded by hearies who refused to communicate

properly. Eventually he turned back to James and gave him a small shrug. ‘Nice view.’

James laughed a bit, shrugging back. ‘It’s okay. Yours good?’

Remus made a derisive snort, and James had to wonder because their flats were directly next to

each other, so they had to share the same view of the street. When Remus saw his confused

expression he said, ‘Building across has a man over who likes to do a morning dance. In the

nude.’

James’ eyebrows shot up, then he burst into laughter, his head shaking. ‘I need to see that.’

Remus shook his head. ‘No, you don’t want to. Trust me.’

It felt like ages since anyone had spent any time with James, and when he saw Remus start to get a

little restless, he quickly offered tea. ‘I can put the kettle on if you like. Unless you’ve somewhere

to be?’

Remus waved him off. ‘Not really. Tea sounds nice.’

James gestured for him to go have a seat as he filled the kettle and plonked it on a burner. Lily had

claimed their very nice electric one, and he hadn’t thought about replacing it yet. Honestly he

wasn’t sure what he had and what he’d lost to the crumbling almost-decade he’d been with her,

and it would take a while to sort it out.

But now was not the time to get melancholy. He’d spent enough time coming to grips with the

fact that he had been in love with her once, but it had faded long before Harry was born. He was

in love with an idea, the illusion of what their family was supposed to be and never was.

James poked his head round the side. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Please,’ Remus said.

James rummaged round his boxes and managed to sort out a plastic tray—trying to think about

how much his mother would eviscerate him if she ever caught him serving tea to an almost-

stranger on a bright blue plastic piece of junk. But then again none of his mugs matched, and he

had thrown sugar into a small bowl, bringing his soya milk with him in the carton because he had

no pots for anything.

He was a right mess, really.

But the smile on Remus’ face said he didn’t seem to mind. Settling on the sofa, James passed the

mug over and didn’t say anything as Remus fixed his own tea. After a while, he sat back and tried

desperately to remember how to make proper conversation with someone he hadn’t known for

years.

Remus, luckily, dove right in. His head nodded toward the one bookshelf James had managed to

sort out, and he was looking right at a photo of James and Harry which Lily had taken last year

during their trip to Oslo. ‘Looks like you.’

James smiled, feeling the ache of missing his son who he wouldn’t see for another two days.

‘HARRY,’ James spelt, glancing over again. ‘He’s six.’

‘Yours?’

James nodded as he sipped his tea, then set it down on the table next to the ugly tray. ‘He’s living

mostly with his mum…now,’ his fingers finished lamely. He saw the look on Remus’ face go

more curious, and he shrugged. ‘We just split. Divorce.’

‘Sorry.’

James shook his head, pulling a face a bit to show it was alright. ‘It was a long time coming. Kids

make things complicated.’ He paused and let out a sigh Remus could see. ‘I miss him.’

‘You see him soon?’

James nodded. ‘Thursday. He’ll be here on weekends. Meant to warn my neighbour about loud

kids but I guess I don’t need to worry.’

Remus chuckled low in his throat and gave James’ arm a squeeze before answering. ‘Not me, but

I’ll warn PETE.’

‘FLATMATE?’

Remus nodded. ‘He’s not home a lot, he won’t be bothered.’

James reached for his tea again, wishing he’d thought to offer biscuits or something, but Remus

didn’t seem fussed by it. ‘Well maybe you can meet him. He’s a good kid. Signs.’

Remus’ eyebrows shot up, then he laughed. ‘Right. You’re CODA.’

James nodded. ‘My parents live in India most of the year now. But we visit a lot. Lily always

argued with me because I think Harry’s first word was more. He signed it. But she says his first

word was banana which he said when he was ten months.’

‘Obviously I’m for sign,’ Remus signed with a small smile.

‘Me too.’ Kicking his foot up on the table, James accidentally knocked over a small box full of his

drawings. “Bugger,” he swore loudly, jumping up. They were some rough designs of the new

project he was working on, and the last thing he needed was to spend an hour reorganising them

into proper order.

He gathered them as carefully as he could, tapping the pages to straighten them, and laid them out

on the table. He glanced at Remus who was watching with a quirked brow, and gave him a

sheepish smile.

‘Sorry,’ he signed once he’d freed his hands. ‘Work stuff.’

Remus peered over at the drawings. ‘Artist?’

‘Architect.’ He spelt the word first before using the sign. James ran his fingers through his hair and

gave a shrug as he eased himself back up onto the sofa. ‘I work for my father.’

Remus blinked, then recognition dawned on his face and he leant over. ‘FLEAMONT

POTTER?’

James’ eyes widened. ‘You know him.’

Standing up, Remus held up a finger for James to wait, then rushed out of the flat. In utter

confusion, he sat there until Remus popped back in, knocking on the door quickly before opening

it all the way, and heading back to the sofa with a magazine in his hands. He thrust it out at James

who looked at the cover and nearly groaned.

He knew it. The article in question had been done by a rather uncouth woman by the name of Rita

Skeeter who was keen on highlighting the success of Fleamont and Euphemia in spite of their

Deafness, and highlighted James as their successor who might take the company higher places

once he took over. James had fought tooth and nail to change the tone of the article, but they

refused and though he had been bothered, his parents weren’t fussed.

‘Yes,’ James nodded. ‘I know that.’

‘PETER gave it to me to show me Deaf couple running the firm.’ Remus opened the magazine

and flicked over to the article which showed a photo of Fleamont and James stood side by side.

James blushed. The photo had not been the most flattering, really, due to his reluctance to be

involve with the project. He was wearing an uncomfortable grimace next to his dad’s careless

grin.

Remus flicked the page, and it opened up to a full spread of James stood with Lily and Harry. His

smile was easier then, his arm round his ex, looking more relaxed. It left a weight in his gut and a

stinging in his eyes, and to his complete horror, he felt an almost white-hot liquid seeping from the

corners of his eyelids.

It wasn’t until the tears hit the magazine that Remus noticed, and he made a startled noise in the

back of his throat.

James turned his face away, feeling like a complete twat as he attempted to blink the tears away.

He didn’t look over until Remus tapped his shoulder, and his hand offered a weak apology.

‘Sorry. It’s…’

Remus’ hand closed over his wrist, careful and unassuming. He bunched the sleeve of his jumper

over the other and carefully swiped at James’ cheeks. With a gentle smile, he pulled away. ‘New

still?’

James swallowed, then shook his head. ‘LILY,’ he pointed to her picture, ‘and I saw this coming

years ago. We weren’t in love. We should have never gotten married.’

Remus frowned, looking down at the picture of James and his once-family, then back up at the

hazel-eyed man. ‘Why did you?’

He let out a frustrated breath, shrugging one shoulder. ‘The baby, I think. I did love her once.

Years ago. Before HARRY.’

Remus stared down at the photo again before pulling the magazine away and fixing James with an

apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘Not your fault,’ James hurried to sign. ‘It’s been long enough. I just forgot about that article.’

The mood was decidedly tense, mostly because James felt like a complete idiot for having a break

down in front of his neighbour whom he’d only just met—and also found incredibly good looking

and sweet. But he wasn’t about to explain that so when Remus made his excuses to leave, James

didn’t stop him.

When he was alone in his flat again, he contemplated seeing if Sirius was available for a chat, but

he knew his best mate was busy with their new firm in Paris, and honestly skype just wasn’t

enough. He was missing Sirius too much. It felt like a festering, gaping wound and it wasn’t fair to

put that on his friend who was finally gaining independence and happiness on his own.

Rubbing his face, James decided to sort out the rest of the house to take his mind off things. The

very least he could do was get Harry’s room ready for his son’s stay over, and maybe get some

curry simmering for their weekend meals. The mindless work would help keep his mind off the

lonely ache, and hopefully let him forget the look of pity on Remus’ face.

***

Only that hadn’t worked out entirely like he wanted it to. The more he cleaned, the more he

worried he’d put the neighbour off. Who did that these days? Fell apart over a divorce that was

months old, from a marriage that had dissolved into something resembling vague friendship years

and years before. James was no fool, he knew he’d fallen out of love with Lily long before his

son’s first word.

Feeling horrible, James set his curry to simmer, then rummaged round to find something he could

bring over by way of apology. He had a small container of the gulab jamun he’d made a few

nights before, and decided it would do for now.

Heading across the hall, he pushed the buzzer and waited. He could only hope that the few hours

Remus had to himself hadn’t done irreparable damage to the short friendship they’d formed.

The door opened slowly, and James was a little relieved to see a small but delighted smile on

Remus’ face. He thrust the plastic container over, and when Remus took it, he quickly signed, ‘I

wanted to give you that. To say sorry for losing it earlier. It’s GULAB JAMUN. Indian sweet.’

Remus smiled, opening the door wider and beckoning James in with a small flick of his head. He

hurried to put the sweet down on the table, then gestured toward the tatty, but well-loved sofa.

‘Sit?’

James did so, and worried his lip between his teeth. ‘I really am sorry.’

Remus eased himself down, waving away James’ apology. ‘It’s okay. Divorces are allowed to

hurt.’

Letting out a rough laugh, James shook his head. ‘I know. It’s not the divorce. It’s just…

everything. My best friend SIRIUS…’

‘Like the star?’

James nodded. ‘He just moved to Paris to open up our second firm there. Normally he takes me

out to get pissed and I’m sad, I cry it out, and I move on. But I’ve been alone.’

Remus’ face fell a bit, and he offered a quiet smile. ‘I’m happy to help if you need company, you

know? I work from home so I’m around.’

Before James could answer, the door swung open making James startle a bit. Remus followed the

motion and his easy smile went a bit tense at the sight of another man walking through the door.

He was shorter than James by a few inches, broad shoulders, round face, and light hair. He

spotted the pair on the sofa and offered a surprised smile, just as tense as the one Remus was

wearing.

‘PETER,’ Remus spelt. ‘He wasn’t supposed to be home until later. I can introduce you.’

James waved him off. ‘It’s alright, don’t need to bother with writing. I’ll just…’ He stopped at the

relieved look on Remus’ face, so he got up and approached Peter who was quickly fumbling to

get his coat off.

Giving James a nervous look, he started to fumble for the small notepad and biro, but James

cleared his throat and stuck out his hand.

“Hi. I’m James, new neighbour.” He nodded his head at the door in the direction of his own flat.

Peter looked so relieved for a moment, James thought he might laugh, or possibly vomit. Instead

he took James’ hand and squeezed it in a firm shake. “Hi, I’m Peter. Sorry for earlier. Saw you

with Remus and I erm…assumed…”

“I’m fluent in sign,” James said, doing his absolute best to keep a terse tone out of his voice. “He

helped me earlier and I brought over a few sweets to say thanks.”

“Well that’ll be…it’ll be,” Peter fumbled as he unwound his scarf, dropping it onto the coatrack.

“…good? To have someone who doesn’t have to write.”

James wanted to shout at this man, ask how bloody hard it would have been to take at least the

level one BSL course, or hell even a few youtube videos wouldn’t have gone amiss. They weren’t

always accurate but they were something.

Instead he shrugged and said, “Right well, good to meet you, mate.”

Peter looked relieved to be dismissed, and James turned back to Remus as the other man went

down the hall, disappearing behind one of the doors.

‘Sorry, he’s not very social,’ Remus signed.

James waved him off. ‘It’s fine. I should probably get home. I’ve curry simmering and I have to

sort out my son’s room. He’ll be here tomorrow through the weekend.’

Remus smiled softly as he walked James to the door. ‘Thanks for the sweet. And please don’t feel

bad about earlier.’

James felt his face go a little hot, and he shrugged, ruffling the back of his hair absently. ‘I’ll try.

But maybe we’ll see each other later?’

Remus brightened. ‘Yeah. That would be good.’

Turning on his heel, James left the flat for his own and tried to ignore the new and very different

feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

***

“Dad! Hi!” Harry burst through the door of the flat, dropping his pack and managing to wriggle

out of his shoes in one fluid motion before launching himself at James.

Feeling something akin to a dam bursting in his chest, James lifted the boy for a hug, and tried not

to hold on too tight. It hit him, in a moment that lasted a nanosecond, how often during the years

of living with Harry he’d told the boy, “Not now, I’m busy.” Or, “Go on and play, Harry, I just

want to sit and relax.” How often had he turned down Harry’s request for attention simply

because he lived there and there would always be time later?

Holding his breath for a second, he pressed a kiss to Harry’s messy hair before sliding him back

down to the floor and looking up with hesitant eyes at Lily who stood in the doorway. “I’ve only

packed enough for a day or two,” she said, nodding at the discarded rucksack on the floor.

“No problem, I planned to take him shopping today. It’ll be easier if he’s got a full wardrobe at

both places.”

Her face flitted through several different emotions before she gave him a tense nod. “Right. Yeah.

So…this is it?”

James motioned her inside, examining himself as she closed the door. Was he angry? Hurt?

Disappointed? Maybe a little bit of all three, but mostly at himself for not doing this better.

Ruffling his hair, he said, “Feel free to look round. Or sit if you like. I can put the kettle on.”

“No it’s alright, I can’t stay,” Lily said. But she still wandered down the hall, peering into the

rooms. She made a humming noise as she looked at Harry’s but didn’t say anything about it. “You

settling in alright?”

James clenched his jaw, then let out a slow breath. “It’s a process. You know how I am with

change.”

Her eyes flashed, maybe pain? He couldn’t tell anymore, and that hurt more than anything. “I

know, James,” she said from behind a sigh. Her hand twitched, and had this been even months

before, she would have grabbed his elbow and pulled him in to press a kiss to his cheek. Now she

resisted the urge and he hated it. When would things get friendly again?

“Thanks for bringing him. My parents are coming into London on Saturday so we’re going for a

visit, then I’ll bring him back Sunday before tea.”

Lily nodded. “Are you…have you…” She cleared her throat. “Really, how are you?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, and tried for an easy smile. “I hate this, you know. I hate that I

can’t just walk down to his room and see him in there whenever I want. And I hate that when I’m

feeling complete shit I can’t bother you about it because whatever else we were, Lils, you were

my friend.”

“I’m…James, we’re still friends,” she said, her voice strained.

“We’re divorced,” he countered. “We can be. Eventually. Maybe,” he added with a sigh. “But

it’s…different now.”

“I know.” But she abandoned the earlier pretence of disgruntled ex and this time she pulled him

into a hug. She still fit against his body as she always had, face right up against the crook of his

neck, arms just so. She held him with a familiar tightness, and though he thought it was going to

feel like a loss, instead it felt like something new. And he sighed into her hair before taking a step

back.

“Think I needed that,” he said with a slight, watery laugh. “My neighbour came over to help me

with a few things and I don’t even know the bloke and ended up getting all soggy right in front of

him.”

Lily let out a small laugh and shook her head. “I’d be surprised, but you cried during Star Trek

four. The one with the whales, Jamie.”

James rolled his eyes, but smiled. “And you didn’t, you absolute monster. They’re whales.

They’re majestic!”

“And that’s my cue. Haz, come and give me a kiss before I go.”

Harry came hurtling out of his bedroom, throwing his arms round his mum and planting a loud

kiss on her cheek. “Bye. See you later.” And then he was gone again.

“Well at least we only have to worry about our own weak constitutions,” she said lightly as she

headed for the door. “Don’t hesitate to phone me if you need anything.”

James nodded, fighting back the urge to remind her he’d been parenting just as long as she had.

There would be no point, and it would cause a row and the last thing James needed was that. So

instead he closed the door after her, and twisted the lock.

Hearing Harry going through his new things, James felt himself settle back into his own skin. It

wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

***

“I’m going down to the street. I’ll meet you there!” Harry cried before throwing himself out the

door.

James, who was struggling with getting everything together, just managed to grab up his mobile

and keys before hurrying after his son. “Harry! Do not run on the…”

His words were cut off by two very different cries—the high-pitch child’s yelp of surprise, and

one much deeper. It was followed by a light thump, and James panicked, hurrying down the stairs

taking them two at a time.

He came to the ground floor landing where he saw Harry clinging to a very surprised looking

Remus. There was a small paper sack which once held apples and pears, now spilt all over the

floor.

‘Sorry,’ James hurried to sign as he stepped round the fallen fruit.

Remus was smiling again though, and he waved him off as James snapped at Harry to help sort

out the mess. Harry was quick to do so, always a helpful child, and before long the three had the

produce sorted back into the sack and Remus had it sat by his feet.

‘Harry,’ James said, using his sign name, ‘This is REMUS—” he spelt it before using Remus’

sign name. ‘Remus, this is Harry.’

Harry was looking up at the neighbour with wide eyes. ‘Deaf?’

Remus nodded. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Harry’s eyes brightened. ‘My granddad and gran are Deaf too!’ His overly excited, six year old

hands waved wide and fast through the signs. He flushed when his dad cleared his throat, and

quickly amended, ‘Nice to meet you too.’

Remus laughed quietly. ‘In a hurry?’

James shrugged. ‘Shopping. Maybe zoo. Or cinema if there’s anything good out. You?’

‘Just heading in.’ Remus glanced back up the stairs until Harry stomped his foot hard next to

Remus’. He grinned, looking back down at the boy.

‘Where do you live?’

‘Across the hall from you and your dad. FLAT C.’

Harry brightened, looking at his dad, then back to Remus. ‘Want to come over for tea?’ Harry

switched to English, “Can he come over for tea? How do you say his name?’ He switched back to

sign fluidly. ‘How do you say your name?’

Remus swallowed thickly, looking to James who quickly replied. “Remus.”

Harry nodded, trying it out for himself. ‘Can you come for tea?’

James felt his face go hot again, which seemed to be becoming a trend whenever Remus was

round. ‘I’m alright with it, if you like curry. I cooked.’

Remus’ cheeks went a bit pink, highlighting the few freckles he had there, and he nodded. ‘I

would love to.’

Harry bounced excitedly. ‘Okay! See you!’ And with that, he was heading for the doors.

‘I should…before he…cars,’ James’ stuttered with his fingers.

Remus laughed again, waving James off and then turned to head back up the stairs.

Wondering what his son was playing at, James decided to save the questions for later, if only to

prevent his too-excited boy from darting into traffic and turning their weekend rather tragic.

***

The day had been exhausting, but the best sort of exhausting. They skipped the zoo and went for

the cinema, then sorted out clothes for Harry along with more toys and books. It took a few trips

up and down the stairs from the car to the flat, but eventually Harry busied himself with putting

things away as James started the curry heating.

He threw rice into the steamer, then wrapped tea and spices together, throwing them into a pot of

soya milk to steam for some masala chai. That sorted, James started to head back to Harry’s room

when he heard a soft pinging.

It was his laptop, a skype call coming in from Sirius, and he hurried to answer it.

He hit the button and grinned in spite of the twisting in his gut when Sirius’ face appeared on the

screen. Sirius’ long finger curved round the back of his naked ear, then he shook his head.

‘Hi,’ James quickly signed.

‘Harry there?’

James nodded. ‘Sorting his new bedroom. We went shopping.’

Sirius pulled a face. ‘Without me? I’m hurt.’

James rolled his eyes, grinning and wishing for the millionth time that Sirius could be there with

them. ‘How are you?’

It launched into a long rant, Sirius’ elegant, thin fingers twisting through frustrated signs about

their new firm. A good portion of the employees struggled with Sirius’ hearing, though he swore

he was wearing his aids to the office. His French was still rubbish, further solidifying the

communication barrier between him and everyone working there, and, Sirius’ biggest complaint—

he’d been asked out every day for the last three weeks.

‘It’s your curse,’ James signed with a grin. ‘You’re too pretty.’

‘Fuck you, POTTER.’

James’ grin widened. ‘You could always come home.’ He immediately regretted saying it though,

as he saw the conflict rising on Sirius’ face. ‘Joking, Sirius. I’m happy for you and it’s going to get

better, I promise.’

Sirius nodded, rubbing his hands down his face for a second. ‘It’s lonely here, James. I miss you.’

‘I’ll visit soon. I swear. I’m seeing mum and dad this weekend with Harry and I’ll make sure dad

knows I’m having time off.’

Sirius brightened at that. ‘Regulus will be here as well.’ James glanced at his watch, and Sirius

immediately noticed the gesture. ‘Late for something?’

James blinked, then said, ‘Guest for tea.’ It was probably his expression, but Sirius was

immediately keen to know everything and pestered James until his flustered friend confessed

everything.

‘So you move in next door to an incredibly cute, gay Deaf bloke?’ Sirius demanded. ‘Maybe it’s

the Universe saying sorry for giving you such a shit lot in life for ten years?’

James groaned. ‘Lily wasn’t shit, Sirius.’

‘No, but you were unhappy,’ Sirius insisted. ‘Can I meet him?’

‘I…Sirius…he…’ James pulled a face and Sirius openly laughed at him. ‘Maybe later.’

‘Maybe bring him next month!’

Instead of even contemplating what Sirius was saying, he called Harry instead. “Haz, your Uncle

Sirius is on skype! Come and say hello!”

There was a moment of silence before Harry came hurtling from his bedroom, all-but throwing

himself onto James’ lap as he shoved his face in front of the camera. Sirius laughed loudly as he

struck up a conversation with his godson. Harry’s hands flew, telling Sirius about his day, the

things they’d got from the shops, how much he liked his new bedroom.

James carefully extracted himself, grinning as he heard Sirius called out, “Oy, don’t think I’m

done with you, Potter. I want details later when the sprog is asleep!”

James chose to ignore it as he checked on the food. The chai was finished, and he removed the tea

and spice pouch before putting it into the tea pot to keep warm. Harry finished up the conversation

with Sirius before signing off, and just as the laptop screen closed, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! I’ll get it!” Harry cried, his socked feet sliding across the polished flooring as he skid toward

the door.

James wondered if they’d get through the evening without something breaking, but honestly it

was the first time his flat felt warm and full—and really, how could he care. When he looked up

and saw Remus’ smiling face, the gentle dimples in his cheeks, he realised he really, really didn’t.

***

It was two weeks of getting to know Remus before things changed. It was obvious there was a

connection between the two men, but Remus was hesitant to move forward as James was just

ending a marriage, and James was hesitant because it had been so long, he had no idea how to

function with another person who wasn’t Lily.

But Harry had just gone back home, and James was feeling low. Remus spotted him on his way

up, the morose look on his face, and turned up an hour later with beer and take-away pizza. With

a grin, the pair sat on the sofa with something on Netflix in the background. It was muted, the

captions scrolling across the screen, but neither were paying attention beyond their conversation.

Remus was chatting about his day, how Peter was becoming more inclined to at least learn a

handful of signs now that he’d seen how well James and Remus were communicating. He talked

about his job—online tech support which he hated—but it paid the bills.

It was such boring, benign conversation, and yet it was such an intense comfort James wanted to

hug Remus. Or kiss him, he realised. And the way Remus was looking at him—an edge of

caution, but maybe a little hope flickering in the amber eyes—it was clear Remus knew.

Maybe it was the slight buzz from the beer giving him courage, James couldn’t be sure, but he

found his hand snaking across and touching the back of Remus’ hand. Remus’ front teeth bit

down hard on his bottom lip, but he didn’t pull away as James carefully ran the pads of his fingers

over Remus’ knuckles.

Their eyes met, asking if it was okay, asking if it was too much or too fast. Neither of them moved

away.

James licked his lips, then with a sloppy, single hand asked to kiss Remus.

Remus let out a slow breath, then nodded and leant forward just a little, closing half the distance.

James reached out with a careful hand, first clutching the top of Remus’ shoulder, then moving it

to the back of his neck. There was a breath, a space between them for only a moment, and then

their lips met.

It was slow and careful, their lips moving in a rhythm that mimicked the slow dance they’d been

doing round each other since James first knocked on Remus’ door. It didn’t last, the gentle care.

Remus fisted his hands into the front of James’ shirt, tugging him close, a low groan erupting from

his mouth.

James sucked in his breath through his nose as he found himself chest-to-chest with the man he’d

been wanting for weeks now. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened, and he almost lost

it right there when he felt Remus’ tongue press hot and slick against his own.

“Fuck,” he gasped, fingers spasming.

Remus clearly didn’t understand the word James whispered, but he didn’t need to. He groaned in

response and somehow managed to yank James on top of him. He was pressed back against the

side of the sofa, his legs stretched wide, and James was straddling his hips.

Pulling back every few moments to check expression, check hands, James carefully started to rock

his hips. Remus moaned again, louder this time as James’ head went down, a slow suck across the

hot skin on Remus’ neck. He paused at his pulse point as Remus shivered, his hips moving

upward almost involuntarily.

“Gnnn,” Remus said, his hands holding James tighter.

Their groins were lined up, a frantic friction as the build-up of weeks of sexual tension crested and

crashed, and they followed each other’s orgasms within seconds.

Panting into Remus’ mouth, James shivered and shook from the aftershocks. Remus’ careful

hands drew up and down his back, and James felt himself going loose and boneless.

Pulling away, he couldn’t help his grin, matching Remus’ own which was a bit fuck-stupid and

sweet, eyes half-lidded. Remus reached up, cupping James’ cheek gently with his large hand, and

then he said very slowly, “James.”

Eyes widening just a little at the unexpected sound, James pressed a kiss to the tip of Remus’ nose

and mouthed, ‘Moony.’

Remus laughed, then grimaced at the sticky feel in his pants. ‘Like teenagers.’

James laughed hard, shaking his head as he eased himself back. ‘My room? You can stay. I have

spare boxers.’

Remus allowed James to pull him up from the sofa, down the hall to the bedroom. It was chilly

back there, the heat not quite reaching comfortable temperatures, but both men wriggled out of

their stained jeans and pants, James rummaging round and coming out with two pairs of clean,

tartan boxers.

Remus grinned at the sight of them before slipping them on, and didn’t protest when James

nodded to the bed, then proceeded to tug him down and under the duvet. The low desk lamp was

on so they could still chat, James half propped up on a pillow, on his side to look down at Remus

who was lying on his back.

‘You said my name. I didn’t know you were verbal.’

Remus shrugged one shoulder. ‘I practised a little. I’m…I don’t like talking. I grew up verbal.’

James’ eyes widened. ‘Why?’

‘My parents were hearing. They’re good parents, love them, but they didn’t understand.’ Remus’

eyes went a bit dark. ‘They wanted me to get implants, took me to doctors, depleted their savings.’

He grabbed James’ left hand and brought it up behind his ear, running it over his skull where

James could feel the scars there. ‘It didn’t work. I had it removed when I was eighteen. Destroyed

what residual hearing I had.’

James’ eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry.’

Remus smiled. ‘I don’t mind about the hearing. My parents were angry it didn’t work. They tried

for years. And I had speech therapy, all verbal house.’

James buried his face in Remus’ neck for a moment, pressing several kisses there before pulling

away. ‘I didn’t speak English until I was five. My parents are non-verbal, so I learnt to talk from

TV.’

Remus snuffled a small laugh. ‘TV?’

‘I thought you were supposed to mimic when you talked, so when I started school I would mimic

everyone’s accents. I got into a lot of fights.’

Remus laughed louder this time, pulling James in for a kiss. ‘I’m sure you did. Your parents never

explained?’

James shook his head, grinning. ‘They didn’t know. I’m the first hearing kid born in…maybe

ever? I don’t know.’

Remus’ expression fell a little. ‘Wish I had at least one Deaf person in my family. But I’m the only

one.’

James cupped his face, pulling him in for another kiss. ‘I’ll share mine. Plenty to go round. Even

Sirius is Hard of Hearing, and signs with me, mostly.’

Remus smiled. ‘You want to share with me?’

James laughed, nodding his head. ‘Yes I do. I really like you. Since your TV blasted me awake.’

Remus chuckled, pulling James in tight and breathed against his messy hair, pressing kisses there

for a long while. Instead of pulling back to continue the conversation, they held each other in the

late evening, and took comfort in warm arms.

James thought maybe this was a bit fast, but just before he drifted off he realised something. He

had never felt this comfortable before. Not even with Lily, for all that he had loved her. Which he

had. But this was different. This was a level of contentment he’d been craving all those years,

something missing keeping him just a hair’s breadth away from real happiness. And now it was in

his arms, and he had a mind to keep it.

From the way Remus held on so tight, James thought just maybe, his new lover felt the same way.

***

One Month Later

Closing the bedroom door, Remus grinned as James pulled him by the front of his shirt into a kiss.

They were in Sirius’ Paris flat now, having just spent the day being dragged round the city by

James’ overly excited best mate.

James hadn’t known if Remus and Sirius were going to get on at first—them being two very

different people, but Sirius took an instant liking to James’ new boyfriend. Half the time it was like

James was forgotten as Sirius engaged the new man in conversation—giving him something just

short of the Spanish Inquisition—without the torture and death—but Remus didn’t seem to mind.

In fact he was eager to be surrounded for the week they were on holiday by people who spoke his

language. By people who understood him.

Harry had come along, of course, having taken an immediate liking to Remus and wanted him

over all the time. Remus was a natural with the boy, and though James thought there might be

some resentment over the divorce, Harry merely expressed his happiness that James was smiling

again.

And that was that.

So now here they were, curling up in Sirius’ room he had for James, under a heavy duvet with the

windows open and the chilly winter air flooding in. Remus’ arms were as warm round his waist as

his tongue was pressing into James’ mouth. They kissed long, languidly for a while, knowing

Sirius and Regulus would keep Harry busy with games and then off to bed so the lovers could

spend a little while alone.

‘This was nice. I really like them,’ Remus said when he finally pulled back.

James grinned, feathering kisses across Remus’ cheeks before answering. ‘They like you too.

Almost as much as I do.’

Remus flushed as he shoved his fingers into James’ hair to pull him down for a hard kiss. “I love

you, James,” he whispered.

James pulled his head back, blinking in some surprise—not because he didn’t feel it, but because

he hadn’t assumed Remus would be alright with saying it so damn fast. But how could he not fall

in love with this man? With his bright, amber eyes, and his dimples and big nose—and every time

he saw Remus smile, his teeth poking out over his lip he had to physically restrain himself from

snogging Remus stupid.

He realised after a moment he hadn’t responded and Remus started to look nervous, so he quickly

raised his hands. ‘I love you. A lot. More than I should so soon. Remus I…’ He paused to kiss

him. ‘Thank you.’

Remus laughed and pushed their foreheads together. Breathing each other in, nothing more

needed to be said. They were content. And happy. And so incredibly in love.

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