At night we're waking up the neighbours while we sing away the blues…
Comfort. An odd thing.
To Peter, it meant large beds with snugly blankets. To James, it meant letters from home with confirmations of endless love and support.
But to Sirius, comfort would always be the awkward stick of sweat, the rustle of pyjamas and padding of cold, pink feet, and the softly ringing lullaby to a tear-streaked face, while in the background James chanted shutupshutupshutup and Peter would beg pleaseenoughstop.
Sirius just hoped that's what it meant to Remus too.