I Just Remembered My Second Pride, Where I Made Different Flag Themed Daisy Chain Bracelets/necklaces

yassssss!!!!!!! i just finished atyd and im a mess of emotions rn!!!

have y’all ever read a fanfic so good you then want to read fanfics of that fanfic?

awwwh maaannnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!

The super six 🎤💫

where do we sign up??!

Who wants to be my evil bisexual boyfriend that I have evil bisexual sex with

oh dudes, KISS ALREADY!!!!!!

Why do you risk your life for him, Clint Barton? How has everybody forgiven him for his past? He saved the world.

*heart eyes*

February 14 means love and love means wolfstar 💕

but my ass still doesnt wanna move and lie down on the comfy bed! life is hard dudes-

as @theresthesnitch already said, the tears are definitely back!!

gosh i love this so much-

Fault Lines pt. 5

Read Fault Lines parts 1-4 here (links to part 4 but everything else is there)

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and raising harry and doing their very best.

(this one is about 5k and pretty mild.)

(one more installment to go after this.)

--

September 1st, 1991

The scarlet steam engine slowly disappeared from Sirius’ view as the tightness in his chest grew. He knew this day was coming, and it was so much worse than he imagined it. He had driven to the platform with Harry, his newly eleven-year-old reminding him so much of James as his mouth ran a mile a minute with questions, excitement in every word. Remus was beside Sirius in the passenger seat, and Sirius watched as the other man reached behind to put his hand on Harry’s leg to keep him from bouncing too much. Not that the movement bothered either of them, but because it was far more likely Harry would hit his head on the roof of the car and that would delay the trip to Hogwarts. Something about Remus’ touch could tether both of them so easily.

I’m so proud of you whispered into messy black hair.

I’ll send a lot of letters, I promise, can I go now said back, even though pre-teen arms were still wrapped around Sirius’ waist.

We love you

And then Harry was gone with the train and Sirius was fighting back tears he hadn’t expected, locked like a statue on the platform for several dozen minutes.

“This…is the worst day of my life, I think.” Sirius finally spoke, turning his head towards Remus who was standing next to him, lightweight cardigan thrown over a t-shirt, and worn loafers.

Remus’ eyes met his own somberly. Maybe it was the worst day of his life too. But then the corners of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile, “James and Lily dying.”

“I think this is slightly worse.”

“Remember when we got divorced?”

“Oh, this is definitely worse than that.”

“We…also got married,” Remus said lightly and Sirius finally managed a tiny laugh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Most of the other parents had already left the platform, Remus and Sirius standing there feeling like the only two people left on earth. The last time Sirius had felt that way had been November 1st, 1981 when everything went from bad to worse and he held onto Remus even as he was being taken away to Azkaban, fingertips touching until they couldn’t anymore. The tension between them had leveled out. Broken glass on the floor of their relationship--what they were calling co-parenting-- cleared away and they both remembered to put on shoes now before walking to avoid getting cut.

Conversations drifted back into being pleasant.

They both dropped their wands.

They had lived through one war by the skin of their teeth, they didn’t cause another with no one else to blame but themselves. A truce that felt similar to forgiveness.

“Harry leaving is still worse but…that may get precedent over James and Lily,” Sirius said lightly.

“I was thinking the same thing. It was so fucking hot that day. I was actually sweating the entire time. Really that should’ve been the sign.”

“The pianist rushed too. I swear you were running down the aisle towards me.”

“Quick and painless. Like pulling off a bandage.”

Sirius laughed again, looking down at his feet to scuff the toe of his black boots on the ground. “Thanks.”

Dark humor to brighten a dark situation and to keep Sirius from slipping away into the darkness as well.

“I just didn’t want you crying in public, that’d be embarrassing.”

“I know.”

“You want to go?”

“Not really,” Sirius shrugged thinking of his haunted house in London. Harry was gone and the ghosts would surely come back. “…you wouldn’t want to go get absolutely plastered, would you? Black out and forget this day ever happened?”

He waited for Remus to tell him he had work tomorrow. Hell, Sirius had work tomorrow and an entire day of taking notes on the wizarding world's legal system. But managing a hangover and focusing all of his energy on staying awake tomorrow seemed better than going home to emptiness.

“Two conditions.”

“Hm?

“You’re buying and we leave the pub by 4.”

Sirius grinned slowly, “Easy enough, Moons.”

--

November 1992

It had been ages since Remus had truly seen Sirius lose every ounce of composure and unleash every swear word under the sun at someone else. Parenthood and time had made Sirius think before rushing into situations and opening his mouth when there needn't be a response. It had been even longer since he had heard Sirius use his last name as influence and pressure to get something done, thinking back to Sirius arguing with the ministry on his behalf to amend a custody agreement.

My fucking vault funds half this place. You’ll do what I’m asking, Fudge.

Remus often wondered if roles were reversed if he would have it in him to move as strong and sure as Sirius did in the world, or if Remus would still pause and hesitate.

Remus stood in the hospital wing, wincing slightly as he listened to the conversation Sirius was having with Dumbledore and McGonagall in the hallway, barely behind a closed door while keeping an eye on Harry in the hospital bed. Their pre-teen looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there with his good hand over his face, the other arm wrapped and in a sling.

“His best intentions? Bullocks! My godson’s arm was turned into jelly and you call that the best of intentions? This man is responsible for teaching children? I want him fired. Immediately.” Sirius shouted from the hallway.

“Mr. Black, I understand you’re upset with the result but we simply cannot suspend a--” Professor McGonagall started, their former Head of House trying to reign in the thunderstorm that was Sirius Black. She had once been an expert at it, the only professor in all of Hogwarts able to get Sirius to stop talking with a single look; the only one who had perhaps taken the time to see the wounded insides of the eldest Black boy. Remus distinctly remembered Sirius giving her a hug at graduation and McGonagall wiping away a tear at something he had said to her.

“Like hell, you can’t,” Sirius said, “I will call a Board meeting right now and he will be voted out so quickly you won’t even be able to say “lemon drop”! I don’t want to have to go over your head and do that. I’d rather we come to an understanding right now.”

“Make. Him. Stop.” Harry muttered, looking wide-eyed at Remus, “He never does this.”

“Oh, you’re mad if you think I’m getting involved,” Remus told Harry, “You want me to go into the fire?”

“At this rate, he’s going to get Dumbledore sacked too for hiring Lockhart in the first place!” Harry pleaded, “It’s just a…broken arm.”

“He did vanish your bones, Harry.”

“It’s fine. If Lockhart's fired, Snape or something is going to cover the class and then I’ll have two periods of that greasy-git--”

“Hey, he is a professor.”

“Yeah, and a greasy-git. Two things can be true.”

Remus bit back a snort and raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been talking with your godfather too much.”

“So you call him Severus?”

“Let’s not go that far, love…” Remus paused to listen again, as Harry's grimace returned at the unmistakable sound of Sirius slipping into French every other word. “They don’t know French, Remus! Please, go do something before everyone's sacked!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” Remus held up his hands in defeat before walking out of the hospital wing towards the direction of the argument. Sirius was in the hallway, clad in a burgundy sweatshirt, his hair pulled back with a glittering gold scrunchy and Remus couldn’t help but find it impressive that Sirius was scolding two very well-respected educators within an inch of their life in such ridiculous attire.

“I assure you, Sirius, we are not taking this incident lightly,” Dumbledore spoke in his calm voice that Remus knew drove Sirius up a wall.

“So you have a three-strike system? Fucking idiot gets to--”

“He is a teacher, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall interrupted.

“Yeah, and a fucking idiot too. Two things can be true at once,” Sirius told her and Remus pinched the bridge of his nose at the familiarity of the dialogue. Too much time around his godfather had been right. “Is your plan just to hope that he doesn’t do something like this again? Or wait to see if he does something worse? I’m sorry, Albus, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard and if you honestly believe that’s the best solution then you’re a fucking idiot--”

“Sirius,” Remus finally said, putting his hand on his ex-husband's shoulder, “You have made your point, very loud and clear. We get it.”

“So tell me why Lockhart isn’t packing his trunk?” Sirius folded his arms and looked at Remus, his jaw clenching in a way that was very seventeen and not thirty-two.

“Finding a replacement teacher in the middle of a school year is challenging, Mr. Black,” explained McGonnagal, her face looking relieved at the intervention.

“Remus can do it,” Sirius said immediately.

“I--what? Sirius, come on, be reasonable.”

“I am. You’ve been teaching for years now, he’s a private tutor, you know what you’re doing, you got a NEWT in Defense…Remus can do it.”

“I promise you, that isn’t necessary, he’s being belligerent,” Remus kept his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, as he looked at the faces of his former Headmaster and Head of House. It was just supposed to be an innocent game of Quidditch; there were plans to take Harry out to dinner for celebrating and even more plans that involved a joint and a bottle of wine at Grimmauld Place after. It had become their own tradition since Harry had been on the team. They hadn’t missed a game and they hadn’t missed an opportunity to rejoice in a victory or wallow in a loss with expensive alcohol. There had even been an occasion where Remus baked edibles, and he woke up the next morning in his pants sprawled out in Sirius’ sitting room couch. Of course, Sirius had made it to his bed that evening but had also decided to garden in the dead of night, his ex-husband absolutely horrified at the fig tree in the middle of the kitchen the next morning. Remus was still hopeful it would end that way, assuming Sirius could get control of his temper and also assuming Dumbledore and McGonnagal caved to his request of having Lockhart sacked.

Otherwise, there would be a Board meeting. Remus had no doubts about that.

“May we have until the end of term, Sirius?” asked Dumbledore.

“No, but I’ll give you two weeks.”

“I would take that, it’s only going to get worse,” Remus offered, “I’m not…going to accept the position but if you do need assistance with proctoring exams, I am more than happy to help, sir.” Sirius made a small noise in the back of his throat at the title. There was once a time all of them had thought Dumbledore to be the most powerful wizard they had met; the person who had all the answers. Remus wasn’t so sure anymore, holding onto the last kernel of faith, but Sirius had abandoned all of that somewhere in the middle of the war. Somewhere between getting refused a trial and thrown into prison at the hands of the other man even if it was just twenty-four hours. When Harry had been delivered to the doorstep of Lily’s sister without taking Remus into consideration.

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin.”

“I’ll be in touch in two weeks,” Sirius’ tone was brisk, and without an ounce of respect, grey eyes focused on the retreating backs of Dumbledore and McGonagall, robes trailing on the ground.

“Feel better?” Remus asked, catching Sirius’ gaze in his own, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “No, no, please tell me. Did that make you feel good?"

“Okay, I…might have lost my cool.”

“Might have?” laughed Remus, and Sirius cracked a smile running his hand over his hair and taking out the gold scrunchy, putting it on his wrist, “I think you just taught Harry at least three new swear-words.”

“Did…did I not put a silencing charm up?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius’ smiled grew, after taking a moment to look mildly ashamed as he reflected on all the words he had spoken, “On the positive, I think I also got you a job?”

“Impulse control is at a zero sometimes, I swear, Sirius..."

“His arm had no bones, Remus! None! Nothing I said was untrue and I stand by that.” Sirius said pointedly, “Now do I…wish…I had been able to calmly state my dissatisfaction? Sure. But…I think I was effective.”

Remus shook his head, “Some things don’t change, hm?”

“So you disagree with what I said?” Sirius asked, “You think he’s a perfectly competent man and I was being too harsh?”

“Oh, no, I think he is also a…what did you say, oh, yeah, fucking idiot, but that doesn’t mean I’d advertise it.”

“I did it for both of us. I believe that is what one calls, taking one for the team.”

Remus laughed again, finally moving his hand from Sirius’ shoulder to pat the side of his face, “Hothead.”

“Yeah. I know. Take it up with my mother.”

“And you’ll have a word with your godson about being respectful and--”

“YOU HAVE TO GIVE A WRITTEN APOLOGY, SIRIUS. AN APOLOGY TO ME FOR BEING EMBARASSING!” shouted Harry from his hospital bed and Sirius laughed even louder, the anger that was once there evaporating into thin air.

“Kid is so lucky. One of us is going to teach at Hogwarts, and the other one is on The Board of Governors and causes scenes in hallways…” Sirius mused, “Of the things we’ve done, James and Lily would be most proud of this moment.”

“You definitely gave Lily a run for her money with that dressing down…”

--

March 1993

“Cheers to the youngest seeker of the century and a winning game!” Sirius raised his glass of whiskey up to Remus’ butterbeer, the two of them sat at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade after another Gryffindor victory. Remus had been mortified when Sirius had imposed the idea of him teaching at Hogwarts upon Dumbledore and McGonagall, but when a letter came two weeks later asking if he would be interested in the position, Remus was surprised at how inspired he felt.

Teaching at Hogwarts had always been the dream. It had been Remus’ favorite place as a kid. It had been where Remus had fallen in love with magic and the idea of teaching in the first place. And even if the position had been offered to him the pressure of a persistent and furious Sirius Black who had more money and influence than he knew what to do with, Remus was nevertheless willing to take the meeting.

This was the shake he had been waiting for. The wake-up call.

The change that he needed to get him out of the routines that he had set up, and the rut he had unconsciously gotten himself in despite trying to put himself out there. Accepting the position had forced him to move; had forced him out of his carefully curated comfort zone; had made space for him to grow and it only took a week of teaching for him to floo to Grimmauld Place and say thank you with his arms around Sirius.

Remus was grateful more often now. Making up for the years he hadn't said it at all.

“Cheers,” Remus responded, taking a sip out of the bottle, taking in his surroundings. A few of the other professors not on duty were trickling in as well, Remus giving them nods in greeting as they walked in.

“So now that you’re on the other side of the equation, is Snape still as big of an asshole? Do you put spiders in his porridge in the morning?”

“That’s childish, Sirius.” Remus told him, “But there was one day I kept charming a pebble to lodge itself in his shoes because he kept interrupting my lesson with un-urgent matters.”

Sirius laughed, a few of the professors looking in Remus’ direction at the sound of joyful thunder, “You always had the best ideas.”

“The best part was he couldn’t point fingers at me without sounding insane.” Remus grinned, taking another sip, “It’s…nice having…colleagues though.”

“Is that what you’re calling them?”

“What?”

“Who’s the one you keep making eyes at?”

Remus choked, a little, and Sirius grinned mischievously, “I don’t…I am not making eyes,” Remus told him, though as he was speaking his eyes were very much trailing over to the other staff table. Professor Andre Babbling had been appointed the new Professor for Ancient Runes at the start of this year, joining the rounds of younger faculty at Hogwarts. A few years ahead of Remus in school, in Ravenclaw, Professor Andre Babbling was definitely easy on the eyes with his dark skin and brown eyes that caught morning sunlight just right at the staff table. Remus had stuck with pleasantries initially when he sat at the staff table his first month of teaching and tried not to escort himself to the hospital wing for heart failure when Babbling smiled at him and a flush blossomed over his entire body.

He had always been a fucking fool for a smile and Babbling happened to have a dimple which made matters much worse.

But Babbling turned out to be talkative and passionate about a subject Remus had found dry while taking it, though he was incredibly thankful for the NEWT he deemed useless because it gave him a leg to stand on. Remus could pretend to be interested in something if it meant he could be in close proximity of a smile and a dimple and brown eyes and long, lean forearm muscles that poked out from under his robes. In fact, Remus could pretend to do a lot of things if it meant that someone was looking at him again the way Babbling did.

No one had looked at Remus like he was made of something special since Sirius. He had tried--random dates and meetings at coffee shops ending in calling cabs and making up excuses to leave early and wishing them away to the opposite end of the world so Remus could avoid them entirely--but none of them burned Remus alive with desire or possibility. Babbling looked at Remus like he was a divine entity, and Remus didn’t want him to stop. He missed what it felt like to be the center of someone else's world, and he missed what it felt like to look across a room and know someone else would be looking back.

“I mean, I can always make a show and turned around and look and guess myself, if--”

“No, please don’t do that,” Remus said, his hand shooting out to keep Sirius from turning obviously over his shoulder, “It’s…the Runes professor. The one next to Sinastra?”

Sirius hummed, “You always had good taste.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t, I was referring to that bloke before me, what was his name…Cresswell? He was handsome too, in an odd sort of way. With the blonde hair and all.” Sirius shrugged, “So what's your plan?”

“Plan?”

“He’s making eyes back. The chemistry is palpable.”

“I cannot believe you’re instigating this.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.” Sirius took a sip of his whiskey, “You should go sit over there.”

“W-what? No, I…I can’t.”

“Why not? You work here. You can join their lunch table or whatever, you’re cool enough.”

“I…what…about you?”

“I’ll finish my drink and be on my way. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sirius, really, it’s okay, I don’t--” but Sirius rolled his eyes, tossing back the rest of his whiskey, and stood up from the bar, putting several galleons on the counter for their check. There was no bitterness in grey eyes; not a drop of resentment or fear that Remus was moving on after years of holding on to a golden safety net of consistency. For better and for worse, Sirius was his last connection to familiarity. One more step and all that was gone.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating.

Is this how Sirius lived his life? On the edge of becoming all the time?

“I’ll see you next time, Remus. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“I…just…what do I say?”

“Maybe start with Hi? And then…end with I am very well hung.” Sirius teased giving Remus a wink and a cheeky grin.

“You’re…impossible,” Remus muttered but Sirius just gave him a wave and walked out of the Three Broomsticks, going to find his motorcycle that was parked in the village. Remus took another sip from his butterbeer and a deeper breath to steel his nerves.

He took the final step, the solid ground falling out from underneath his feet and he grabbed a helmet, ready for a crash landing as his eyes connected with deep brown ones from across the room once more.

--

June 1993

“Did you know Remus has a boyfriend?” asked Harry almost as soon as he got in the car, no longer on the platform and in a safe place. Remus had would be at Hogwarts for a little longer, finishing up grading and end-of-term exams.

“I…heard rumors.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, a scowl on his face as he buckled his seatbelt and Sirius raised his eyebrows at the gruffness of the response.

“It means of the things that is better for us not to talk about in extensive detail, dating is one of them and I have only heard whispers in passing of this boyfriend,” Sirius explained putting the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, it’s another teacher. At Hogwarts.”

“I know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Him dating or the teacher part?”

“The teacher part…” Harry shifted in his seat, slouching down further and Sirius smiled a little as he backed out of the car park. Thirteen was around the corner and was apparent in every inch of Harry’s demeanor. “I dunno. It’s different.”

“Have you talked with him about it?”

“He talked with me about it…so, I guess.”

But there was a reason Harry had chosen him for this conversation.

“I’m listening, kid.”

“Not a kid…”

“You’re my kid and I love you.”

Harry softened, at the phrase, apparently never too old and mature to hear those three words. “It’s…is he all of a sudden going to start coming to Christmas? Or when I turn thirteen is…he going to be there? Or if we all go to a Quidditch match, will you get another ticket for him?” he asked in rapid succession, “I know you see people but they don’t exactly stick around and you’ve never had me meet them. And…Remus did? Sort of? Or I already kind of knew Professor Babbling from around school. I’m just not sure what to make of it.”

“Love, I think these are questions you can ask Remus.”

“I’m asking you.”

“If…I buy tickets to a match, I’ll ask you who you want there. You don’t even have to bring me if you don’t want. I’ll buy the tickets and let you go with Bill Weasley as your responsible guardian.”

“The twins? They’re older.”

“Not a chance,” Sirius grinned, “And…it’s your birthday party, you get to decide who is there. And as for Christmas dinner at The Weasleys…that might be up to Remus, or… whoever extends the invitations, but…our holiday can still be just for us if that's what you want.”

“I don’t want to make Remus sad if…I dunno.”

“I promise, we can take it, Harry.”

--

December 1993

“Is…he always like that?” asked Andre, walking with Remus outside into the winter snow, just outside Grimmauld Place. His dark eyelashes had snowflakes clinging to them, the magical drive disappearing as they got closer to the street where there was a portkey he could take back to his flat. Remus had wanted him to meet Harry outside of school. Remus wanted him to meet Sirius at all, the two of them only saying hello in passing prior to dinner that evening when Sirius would call on the mirror or be in Remus' office at Hogwarts for tea on the weekends.

“Who Harry? He’s thirteen. I think he’ll be like that until he’s eighteen or so say the adolescent development books. Teenagers shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“Not Harry. He was…how I expected him to be.”

“...Sirius?”

“Your ex.” Andre confirmed, “Is he always like that?”

“I…think you have to be more specific,” Remus said, brows furrowing as he tried to think of infractions or tears Sirius might have caused throughout the evening. He had set the table for Remus; he made polite conversation and told appropriate stories to Andre about them back in Hogwarts; he had kept Harry in check, intervening with a light touch on Harry’s shoulder or asking their teenager for help with someone minor just so Harry could have a break from meeting my parent’s new boyfriend when his ex-husband was in the room. Remus actually had every intention of rushing back inside and expressing endless gratitude for Sirius, unable to comprehend that the evening had gone so well when he had been tossing and turning about it for days. It seemed so silly to have lost sleep over it now.

“I don’t know. He’s just…kind of a lot? Does he always offer to take your plate? Or…did he offer to make dessert for this evening or did you ask him to? Playing music you liked? All the stories and asking me questions--the eye contact was…was that an intimidation thing or is he just like that?”

Remus stared for a moment before laughing at the absurdity of Sirius’ eye contact ever being intimidating. Thinking that if Sirius had wanted to ruin the evening, he very well could have and it wouldn’t have been with eye contact. Laughter was apparently the wrong response, Andre’s hand pulling from Remus’s instantly.

“You’re..you’re serious?”

“I don’t like you laughing at me. I just had dinner with your ex-husband and you’re laughing?”

“It’s just Sirius,” Remus explained, “That’s just…the allure of Sirius Black. I promise it wears off.”

“It seems to me like he’s still into you.”

Remus had to clear his throat violently to keep from laughing again, “Andre…I know how Sirius looks on the outside. But…that’s just what he does.”

“Takes care of you?”

“You have to understand we have a lot of history and we have a kid together. Of course, he’s going to take care of me but it’s not like we’re super crazy close and have a bunch of inside jokes and…”

“But you do.”

They did.

“Okay…so we do. That doesn’t mean--”

“Remus, I fancy you quite a lot. I’d like to spend more time getting to know Harry and spending time with you. I just can’t see where I fit into this if he’s in the picture.”

“We’re co-parents Andre. He has to have a place in my life.”

“You’re not just co-parents. You’re best friends. And…I don’t know if I can stick around if your best friend is him.”

“It’s not a competition. It’s not…I have love to give to both of you. It’s not either-or.”

“I guess I don’t see it that way.”

What they don’t tell you when you stand at an altar with someone, holding onto their hands and watching eyes mist up with emotion is that when it all ends, you’ll spend the rest of your life comparing people to them. Unintentionally, but it happens. Remus did it with Andre, making lists of qualities that mimicked Sirius’ thinking Merlin, I have a type; making a contrasting list of qualities that couldn’t be more different and seeing which one he preferred. He stared back at Andre and the hands that were now hidden away in coat pockets.

Funny how history could repeat itself.

I don’t know how to make it fit anymore. I don’t know if we fit anymore.

--

Harry was in his bedroom, running upstairs as soon as Remus and his guest had walked out the front door, leaving Sirius to clean up the kitchen on his own. He left the pie and bottle of wine out, pouring a glass for Remus whenever he walked back in while he got his own glass of whiskey.

Remus had his arm around someone new, and Remus was happy for it. The golden hour light that Remus had radiated in their teenage years-- the light that Sirius had fallen for in the first place-- had returned with a vengeance, with the arrival of a man who was well-read and just as dry. Professor Babbling was growing flowers in the places Sirius had just made holes. Remus’s garden had flourished after all the years spent watering it with heartache and nurturing it with his own delicate hands, and Sirius was glad for it.

Sirius jumped up onto the counter, piece of pie in hand and he heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps. Remus walked in looking crestfallen, his arms wrapped around his body. Coat still on, hands slightly blue.

Sirius put his fork down and tilted his head, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Remus said simply looking up to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“Alright?”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend after…I thought tonight went surprisingly well.”

Sirius made to get off the counter but Remus held his hands out. A nonverbal signal not to come any closer. He stayed where he was.

“I…thought it went well too.”

“You’re too much,” Remus told him.

“What?”

“That’s what he said. That you were too much. You…did too much for me. You...made dessert? And…” Remus looked down at his feet, mismatched socks on the tile floor, “You don’t even know you’re doing it, but you do it, and…I forget how brightly you can burn sometimes because I’ve gotten used to it. And I think about how lucky I am to be in a position where I’m just used to reaping the benefits of all the shit you do, all the time, but you’re too much, Sirius.”

Voices from his past crept into his memory; ones that sounded more like his mother and father than he cared to admit.

You take up too much space.

You’re too loud. Be quiet, Sirius.

Don’t ask so many questions. Speak when you’re spoken to.

You’re a headache, Sirius.

Get out my sight, Sirius.

One that sounded like the shell of Remus when their marriage had gone on way too long and neither of them could see a way out. Before the counseling. Before admitting defeat.

Just stop, Sirius. I don’t need you to do things for me anymore.

You can’t fix everything.

“I’m…sorry.” Sirius told him, “I…I can take a step back, Remus. I won’t be here, next time? Make myself scarce. You didn’t need to…you should be with him. It’s my fault."

Sirius always admitted fault first. Willing to take the fall for someone else's sins after an easy life of never having to be accountable for his own. Privileged, arrogant, Sirius Black. He could take it.

It could be his fault. Even if it wasn’t.

He could dig the grave. Even if he knew there was only space for him in there.

Ice the bruises to make the swelling go down faster.

Bandage Remus’s fist and even his boyfriends. Heal the scrapes and the cuts and let them take another swing. Remus had always been worth the hurt.

It could be his fault. Sirius was too much, after all. He had been told that before. It wasn’t anything new.

Remus shook his head, picking at his nails. Sirius wanted to stand up and put his hands over Remus's to stop the movement. But he stayed. “We’re…not in love anymore, you and I. We’re not, and I don’t want to be either. But…I don’t think I can go on in this life without you. The bloke who I can sit with at a table and say what I’m thinking. I’ll take that over another brush with love.”

Sirius would too.

Every time.

This is his home and I’m just a vacation.

.

.

this line broke me-

(my sis is literally singing 'hold back the river' as if it isnt completely out of my control already)

Fault Lines pt. 2

Fault Lines pt 1 here

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and doing their best while also raising Harry.

(about 3k)

--

July 1987

Remus stayed behind to help clean up after the birthday party, their newly seven-year-old slowly losing steam minute by minute and heading for a sugar crash, judging by the quieting sounds from the sitting room.

“You were better with the mess this year…” Remus commented absently, putting paper plates into a large trash bag as Sirius stored the leftovers, magic moving around him to wipe off the counters.

“I’ve been…working on it.” Sirius replied, smiling a little over his shoulder, “But, in all fairness, seven-year-olds are better at mess control than six-year-olds…and this year the theme wasn’t Sandcastles.” Remus couldn’t help but smile back, thinking about Harry’s birthday last year. The first birthday after separating where they both tried to compensate and acquiesced to every ask their six-year-old had, including turning the backyard of Number 12 into a makeshift beach. Remus had stayed to help clean last year as well, watching as Sirius cleaned the floor free of sandy shoe prints three separate times. He also watched the whole party as Sirius made a mental list of the sticky doorknobs, spills in the kitchen, his smile never faltering and his voice never changing. As if nothing was bothering him in the slightest. Sirius always knew how to put on a good show, even when their relationship was pulling apart at the seams, and Remus’ would have to fight down tears in public spaces. Sirius could hold it together. Sirius could smile and say thank you, expert at lying between his teeth.

Part of Remus always circled back to wondering if that’s what started the rip in the first place. But the other part knew that there was no longer time for pointing fingers and it just was now.

“Still going to wash the floors tomorrow?”

“Shite, I'm washing them tonight after Harry goes to bed."

Remus laughed softly, the last of the used paper cups going into the trash bag as well. Sirius let out a contented sigh, eyes scanning the kitchen with a look that clearly said this will have to do, before extending a piece of cake in Remus’s direction.

“I already had some,” Remus told him, shaking his head.

“The tiniest slice. Even though I told you there was plenty. You deserve a proper one.” Remus accepted the slice, still unsure of when he should excuse himself to leave, thinking there should really be a book on this sort of thing. He noticed Sirius had his own piece in his hand as he jumped to sit on top of the counter, finally relaxing for the first time all day. Sirius was always the last to eat. Sirius always made sure everyone else got some before he did and on party days, focused more on Harry having a good time than remembering to eat himself. “Cheers, Moony."

“Cheers.”

Filling the gaps hadn’t gotten easier. Neither had dropping Harry off after the weekend, or leaving Number 12 on the rare occasions he had stayed for dinner, though he had found the courage to stay a few times now. It seemed unfair that Remus had to choose between loving his apartment and the way it felt to not be tiptoeing around arguments and his family. Though, if you asked Sirius, and Remus had, he felt it was unfair Remus got to be the one who left. Sirius felt it unfair he had to be the one who sat with the memories because his house was the one Harry felt comfortable in. Another show. Make sure someone else is comfortable before addressing what you need.

Remus sometimes wondered if his own selfishness was what caused Sirius to start pulling at the existing rip in the first place.

Did I push you away?

Did you ever love me or did you just want to make me happy?

Usually, Sirius was the one who took the step to make the palatable silence between them feel less awkward; less jarring. Remus noticed that in addition to not minding mess nearly as much, Sirius had also stopped doing that. Sirius had stopped doing a lot of things for Remus when he realized he didn't have to anymore.

Some days Remus missed it. He had admittedly grown accustomed to a life with someone who catered to him. Not just financially. But Remus missed coming home from work to dishes that were already done, waking up to a kid who was already dressed for the day, to favorite desserts and thoughtful notes left on bathroom mirrors. He missed having someone who always corrected baristas when they got his order wrong. Remus had drunk a lot of incorrect coffee since being separated.

Did I ever say thank you? How many times did I roll my eyes instead?

“It’s…the sun is going down.” Remus tried, around a mouthful of chocolate cake, wincing as he heard the sentence leave his mouth.

“It happens every day,” Sirius replied, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “You know…we used to be good at talking to one another. We used to be friends.”

“Yeah, how’d we do that?”

“I…think we would just…think things and then say them out loud.”

“Okay.”

“So...how are you?”

“You know…still pretty lousy most days actually, but today was good.” Remus finished, already bracing himself for Sirius to return with an answer that would add insult to injury. Already bracing for I’m just fine; I’m enjoying being single again; We get on swimmingly without you.

“Me too.”

--

June 1988

“I don’t understand why you’re still insisting you play by their stupid rules, Remus! He’s your kid just as much as he is mine. I know it, you know it, they’re just--”

“Because I can’t afford to break the rules, Sirius! How is that going to look?”

“If you do I’ll just--”

“And I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. This isn’t something your piles of money and last name can just--”

“It is actually. You’re so fucking stubborn…”

“And you’re not?”

“Just…” Sirius made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat as he continued packing a trunk for Harry for the month. Their kid was spending the afternoon with Andromeda, giving the two of them time to work out any particulars and argue without the fear of their almost eight-year-old overhearing. Aside from losing his best friend in the divorce and the hangovers he endured coping with the fall-out when Harry was with Remus for the weekend, trying not to argue in front of Harry had been the hardest part. Sirius was always so proud at Hogwarts and the years following that he and Remus rarely argued. They rarely fought.

Love is the easiest thing in the world. He had said. And maybe somewhere Sirius still believed that because he didn’t love Remus any less now that he had an apartment across town and a whole life that Sirius didn’t get a play-by-play of. Love could be easy. Relationships weren’t though, and it was more common now that they would meet up while Harry was at school to calmly argue at coffee shops. Public places to settle disagreements, where they both had to keep their heads, never wanting to cause a scene, and not wanting to move backward. Because the first months had been full of name-calling and shouting matches that left both of the high and dry and bleeding out. Remus waved the white flag first.

“It’s been over two years at this point. You have a job and a flat and a car that I’m sure you drive very cautiously in. You've taken him to Healer check-ups, you've been on time to meetings... Just let me appeal--”

“It is not your job to intervene, Sirius.”

“Like hell it’s not!”

“Why are you arguing with me about this? All it means is you get Harry less.”

“I know.”

“You lose.”

“Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to win? I don’t want to win this one because that means Harry loses. He’s the one caught in the middle of this,” Sirius told him, hastily throwing socks into the trunk, not bothering to count how many there were or if they were matched properly, “And he’s the one who is missing out on spending time with you because the adults just couldn’t keep their shit together. That’s bullocks.”

Remus smiled softly, “You’re not folding his pants? This is a very messy trunk.”

“Shut up.”

“Sirius, come on, don't--”

“No, I mean it, shut up for one second,” Sirius said taking a breath as he closed the dresser drawer, flicking his wrist so the pants and socks would organize themselves in the trunk. Even though he knew it would be ruined the second Harry unpacked at Remus’s and that when Harry came back at the end of the month, it would be haphazardly thrown in. This was the second summer they had done this. This was the second summer Sirius would spend all of June alone in his big empty house, crossing off days on the calendar until his kid came back and the walls of Number 12 could be filled with laughter instead of ghosts. They had both agreed to this arrangement, but that didn’t stop the frown appearing on Remus’ face when he dropped Harry off the last day of June a year ago. It didn’t stop Sirius from looking out the window of Grimmauld Place a half-hour later to see Remus still parked there, tears running down his face.

I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make this about me. It’s just…hard. This is his home and I’m just a vacation.

But Remus didn’t hear the times Harry started calling for him and then had to stop himself mid-sentence. And Remus wasn’t around the first week of July where Harry couldn’t stop talking about the park near Remus’s flat and the time they had ice cream for dinner. Remus wasn’t there for all the bedtimes Sirius tried to read the book Harry had been reading with Remus only to be told you’re doing it wrong and it’s okay, I’ll just wait. Sirius didn’t want either of them to be a vacation destination--he wanted Harry to have roots in two places.

Point A.

Point B.

So no matter what happened, Harry would always have two clear places to go.

“This isn’t about money,” Sirius started, once the blood in his brain had settled and he could think straight, “Maybe at first it was…and I think if you take a second think about it, you’ll admit that you weren’t ready to have a five-year-old staying with you for an extended period of time when you first moved either…”

Remus chewed his lower lip for a moment, “No, you’re right. I wasn’t.”

“But it’s not anymore. It’s not about…I’m not just throwing money at you, Remus.”

“The galleons in Harry’s trunk say differently.”

“It’s pocket money!”

“He’s eight, how big do you think his pockets are?” Remus asked but there was no heat to his question. It was the same tone and same expression that Remus used to wear when Sirius would go overboard with baby clothes or toys.

“So I’m…indulgent. Okay? I admit that. But maybe you can admit you’re being stubborn about this? Harry deserves more than every other weekend with you. And to be honest, you know I can’t read and his books are getting more and more words in them.”

“You can read…” Remus smiled a little and sighed, “What is admitting it going to do? We signed a contract.”

“Contracts can be amended.”

“To what?”

“What do you want?” Sirius asked, though he already knew what the answer would be. All the time. So he’s mine. Usually with ex-boyfriends, you could go the rest of your life and never hear their name again. It was much harder to move on when the ex was your husband and his name came out of your child's mouth every other breath. “I mean, obviously we can’t…the all together under one roof thing isn’t going to work. So, what do you want to do? Just tell me and I’ll be down at the ministry and I won’t leave until--”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I don’t need you to fight for me anymore.” Remus told him, eyebrows knitting together, “That’s not your job anymore.”

“It’s always my job.”

“No. You aren’t just going to sweep in and handle this for me but--”

“For fucks sake, Re--”

“Let me finish, would you?” and Sirius crossed his arms, the trunk long forgotten as he stared at his ex-husband expectantly, “You don’t get to handle this. Because it is not a you situation. It’s a we situation. So we can go handle it together.”

We.

Maybe there was a different version of us to be found.

“I can work with that.” Remus rolled his eyes at the response as Sirius walked to Harry’s closet, going through t-shirts, trying to remember which ones were his favorite to wear at the moment. Blue.

“Hot head…”

“Stubborn arse.”

--

December 1989

“I don’t think there are enough presents here,” Remus mused looking around at the towering boxes of gifts on the floor. It was after midnight, and as usual most of the gift wrapping was left until the last minute, Remus sitting in the parlor of Number 12 with Sirius a bottle of firewhiskey between them. It would’ve taken less time had they both not wanted to have at least two very stiff drinks following Christmas Eve dinner at the Weasleys before starting wrapping. The first hour after Harry went to bed was spent recounting the evening, a back-and-forth occurring between the two of them that had been pushed aside years ago. Like a double-trapeze artist act at the circus that had retired and came back around for a farewell tour, Remus still remembered how to counter quick remarks from Sirius. And for the first time in such a long, long, time, had been thankful to have Sirius next to him at the Weasley’s dinner table while he bit his tongue and they shared looks that no one else understood.

Dusting off the cobwebs of a foreign language both of them had forgotten to practice. Tongues were clumsy around the words, pronunciation a bit off, but a conversation could be had nonetheless.

“Kid is spoiled.” Sirius returned, “James and Lily would hate this. Christmas is about love, not about presents, Sirius," he finished in an impression of James that Remus hadn't heard in quite some time.

“He was such a bloody tosser sometimes,” Remus smiled around the rim of his glass, “Tell us all it’s not about presents and it’s about a feeling but you know he’d be the first one writing us about what he got from his parents.”

Sirius laughed, “Like it was a contest too. We get it, Prongs, you had a good childhood. No need to rub it in our faces. I remember one year, I think I had gotten a set of dress socks from my parents…this whole new, expensive wardrobe, and a magical planner to help me organize my classes. James writes me with Pads, I got a new broom and my Mum made my favorite cookies! Honestly, more--”

“Jealous of the cookies, right? Mrs. Potter’s were the best.”

“They were…”

“You make them pretty well too,” Remus told him, taking a sip of his drink. The fireplace crackled quietly, warmth enveloping the both of them. “You think they’d be upset?”

“About what?”

“Us?”

“I…can’t think about that.” Sirius told him, “I do sometimes and it gets way too dark up there," he said tapping the side of his skull with a tattooed finger, "and…it’s better I don’t. I think…they’d just want Harry to be happy and taken care of…and if we’re happy too, even better. But not required."

"Like a side effect?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Remus looked up from the amber liquid in his glass to meet Sirius’ eyes from across the room. The same dark curls, as thick as it was at seventeen. The same lopsided smile that Remus fell hook, line, and sinker for. Except now he was 29 and Remus wasn’t falling, wasn’t hurting, wasn’t anything but glad to be able to sit in a room with his best friend without wanting to claw his eyes out or play the blame game.

“You…you know…what I realized?” Remus asked, Sirius’ eyes meeting his own.

“Hm?”

The ache is gone.

“I don’t think we’ve been in a room this long together in…years. And…the funny thing is, I’m still looking forward to being here tomorrow. I don’t even want to pretend I’m going to the lav when I’m actually smoking out the window.”

“I knew you were doing that…”

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, because that’d be very hypocritical of me when I say I need to go to check the wards when I’m actually smoking.” Remus laughed, Sirius’ smile catching the firelight as he spoke again, “It was rough waters there for a little bit, Moons…but, I think we did alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Except, you know…James and Lils would really hate that we’re still smoking.”

"They made each other better."

da FUCK?! awh man dun expose me like dat-

just saw a tik tok that said all unstable queer teens are obsessed with at least one of the following fandoms: dead poets society, the raven cycle, all for the game, six of crows, or the marauders. what does it mean if i’m obsessed with all of them😳