I meant to write a Remus/Sirius fic before seeing DH:2. I thought maybe an AU in which they're both professors or a modern day highschool AU in which they go to see the film together (how meta!) but I just really needed fix-it fic (and maybe so do you). You're welcome!title:
small miracles (or Dear fandom, I love you) pairing:
unbeta'd for now (volunteers are welcome to tear it apart!) summary:
What if Sirius had realized Peter was the spy in the Order before it was too late? This answers that question.
Remus is in bed when he hears the knock on his door. If his flat had been any bigger he wouldn’t have heard it at all, but as it is the knock makes his precariously balanced dishes rattle loudly on the shelves and he wakes.
The knock comes again and Remus slides warily out of bed. He grabs his wand and takes a deep breath. He knew the Death Eaters would come for him. He didn’t expect them to bloody knock, but maybe this is their way of taunting him.
He thinks of apparating. He thinks of a thousand ways he can disappear in the four seconds it takes for him to reach the door. He opens it.
The stupefy dies on his lips.
“Sirius,” he says, whispers really, because he’s so fucking relieved. He might actually die of relief instead of the killing curse.
“Remus,” Sirius says and embraces him before Remus can even lower his wand. “I’m sorry,” Sirius is saying over and over.
Remus can’t make sense of it. He hasn’t seen Sirius in months. When he had envisioned their reunion, it hadn’t been with Sirius apologizing, nearly sobbing into Remus’ neck. Remus forces himself to pull away and back into the flat, bringing Sirius with him.
“Why? Why are you sorry?” Remus gets out finally.
“It was Peter, it was Peter the whole time,” Sirius says and inhales a great watery breath.
“Peter?” Remus echoes, uncomprehending.
“The spy. There was a spy in the order,” Sirius explains. “I thought – I thought it was you, Remus. Forgive me.”
The months of radio silence suddenly make sense. He understands Lily’s reluctance to tell him where James was or to even let him look after Harry. His stomach knots violently. He feels sick.
“You thought – me,” Remus says weakly.
Sirius is already apologizing over top of him. Remus waves his apology away. Of course they would suspect him. Voldemort has made no secret of how many werewolves he’s recruited. Still, it stings.
“Peter – Dumbledore has him now,” Sirius goes on to say. “He’s feeding him veritaserum. Fuck, Peter. I never would have thought.”
“No,” Remus says softly. “No, I guess we wouldn’t have. No one looks twice at Peter.”
Sirius gives a wry smile. “He’s said something about horcruxes. Do you – “
“No idea,” Remus says.
Sirius gives a heavy sigh and Remus takes a moment to look at him. His hair is longer than before and he looks tired, that bone-deep fatigue that everyone in the Order wears like a cloak.
“Tea?” Remus says, almost a reflex. Sirius nods but when Remus goes to the kettle Sirius catches his cardigan sleeve.
“Remus,” he says in a low voice and Remus turns and glances up into those gray eyes that always seem to find their way into his dreams.
“Can I – “
Sirius doesn’t finish but must see something in Remus because he pulls Remus roughly to him and presses their mouths together in a desperate gesture. It takes a moment for Remus to catch up with his body. His hands have already found their way to Sirius’ waist, smaller since the last time he touched it. His mouth opens easily under Sirius and this part he remembers. He remembers huddling under bedclothes and pressing together in hidden damp passages. He remembers how Sirius smelled back then, not too different than how he smells now. He remembers the noises Sirius made and as he rolls his hips forward they roll off Sirius’ tongue as if they’d been perched there for the past year, waiting to take flight.
“Fuck,” Sirius groans. “Can’t believe I was going to let you make tea.”
Remus laughs against his mouth. “I didn’t know if – “ He tries to pull away, a bit shy now that he realizes that he basically threw himself at Sirius, but Sirius holds him tight.
“Always,” Sirius says roughly. “Can’t even think about anyone else.”
Remus swallows around a lump in his throat. “Same,” he says. “Same.” And then they’re kissing again, all doubt dissipating. Their clothes fall away not with magic but with trembling fingers and frantic fumbling. They find their way to Remus’ bed and Remus won’t let himself think about what this might mean. Sirius might be leaving before morning to go on another one of Dumbledore’s missions but for now they have this together. For now they can reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies, try to give enough pleasure to start making up for all the pain.
It’s been so long since they’ve talked and yet Remus hears every word Sirius meant to say with every kiss, every touch. I missed you. I’m sorry. I love you, love you, love you. Remus responds as best he can, tries to show Sirius that he knows, that he feels the same. By the time they’re both sated messes, he’s sure Sirius knows.
After long moments Sirius presses a kiss to Remus’ temple before rolling off the small bed. Remus watches Sirius get up and doesn’t allow himself to indulge in the sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew Sirius wouldn’t stay, no matter what Remus might have interpreted in the moment.
“Earl Gray?” Sirius says with a half-smile from the foot of the bed.
Remus exhales heavily. “Leave the fucking tea and get back into bed,” Remus all but growls.
Sirius laughs and does as Remus tells him to.
“In the morning,” Sirius murmurs against Remus’ neck once he’s settled, “we should go to Headquarters. Talk to Dumbledore.”
“In the morning,” Remus agrees and pushes away the heavy twisting feeling in his stomach at the thought of Peter’s betrayal. In the morning he’ll confront Peter. Right now he’ll be grateful for what small miracles he has.