A/N: Sometimes you can't really help when and where inspiration strikes you. This is born of that. I wrote it a bit of time ago, but it and its companion piece have been undergoing editing, so I'm just now posting it. Hopefully the companion will be posted soon too. As always, review.

Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Tonks

Warnings: Slightly AU, in that Remus and Tonks are both alive after the end of the Second War.

Companion piece to Killing Me Softly.

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, and therefore do not own anything recognizable. Trust me, you'd know if I owned Harry Potter; namely, Sirius would never, ever have died. And to give credit where it's due, this was inspired by a Narnia fanfic, All She Knows of Heaven, by Animus Wyrmis. Specifically, the very end of the fic. The title is taken from a line in the Josh Groban song, "Remember".

As Long as You Hold Me

He tells him of a little girl with a toothy smile sweet as sunshine and of the messy-haired boy with the crooked glasses who loved her oh so much. He tells him of a blond-haired boy with a dimpled smile who traded Chocolate Frog cards with him. And he tells him of the boy with the beautiful eyes and merry smiles who wanted to chase down the moon for him.

He had always liked Muggle literature. Magic was all well and good and could compensate for many of the shortcomings of the other world, but Muggle literature had no equivalent in the Wizarding world.

Perhaps his appreciation came with growing up with a Muggle mother, but he simply couldn't understand why most wizards didn't like it. The issue wasn't even about reading. It was that just because those books were written by people with no magic in their blood that they were either scorned or treated with such amazement that a Muggle could ever come up with something like that. And a great many of the books were scoffed at by his fellow wizards for their supposedly inaccurate portrayals of magic.

Remus would contend that they had just missed the whole point. It was fiction, for heaven's sake. It didn't matter that in reality magic didn't work like that, or that Muggles 'didn't know what they were talking about'. The point was that each world that books had to offer was unique. Magic in their reality may not be like that, but that was how magic in those books was supposed to work. Of course the Muggles didn't know what they were talking about—that was because that their stories weren't real. The whole point of the story wasn't the mechanics in the functioning of magic and whatnot. It was about the characters, about finding some truth deep within yourself, fighting to overcome something that seemed so much bigger than you, struggling to make a difference…the list was endless. Those books taught the ones who read them a lesson, and that lesson helped one's growth as a person. That was something that no Wizarding book Remus had seen could achieve. Or if they could, at least not half as well as a Muggle book could.

Honestly, Remus felt that ninety times out of a hundred he would rather read Muggle books, because as odd as it might sound those books held more magic in them than Wizarding books ever could. He thought it was because Muggles didn't know what the real magic was, so they didn't get bogged down. He thought it was because they could dream and imagine without someone telling them that it was wrong, and that magic didn't work that way.

True, many Muggle books had an equal Wizarding version, but not in the case of literature. And those were his favorites. Many of them had been a comfort of his during a time when he had thought that he would never be able to go to Hogwarts. Sure, maybe he didn't get to go to one of the most magical places on the planet, but at least he got to go to Middle Earth. He got to see the Ents walk and hear elven song whisper through the trees of Lothlorien and watch bright fireworks burst in the sky over the green pastures of the Shire.

Those had always been his favorite type books. The Lord of the Rings kind. (That had been Lily's favorite.)

The Chronicles of Narnia had always been his special favorite. Because really, it had everything one would ever need in a fantasy book. Tales of epic battles and adventures at sea, murder plots and intrigues, talking animals and centaurs, and most importantly it was about family and growing up, and its magic wasn't about incantations or correct wand movements, it was about justness, fairness, and love. It was a story that had stuck with him throughout the years, a familiar tale that he had never tired of reading.

Until November 1, 1981.

It seemed so insignificant. Just a little arrangement of numbers and letters. Just another day when we had three hundred and sixty four others.

Unfortunately for Remus, that date did mean something to him. It was the day after the one that had single-handedly managed to level the life as he knew it and raze and burn it to the ground, leaving nothing but a few stray ashes floating in the air, still fiery, but already being blown away by the breeze.

It was the day after James and Lily died. It was the day when everything had died, really. Or at least it seemed that way to Remus, because in one fell swoop everyone he had loved so much and made his life worth living had all been killed and taken away from him. And suddenly he had found that couldn't pick up those books anymore, the ones that talked of that noble Lion and beautiful castles by the sea and trees that could dance. He knew it was because those books now struck too close to home.

In one sickening realization he realized that he knew what those Pevensie siblings must have felt, suddenly being torn away from Narnia and the world they'd known, one filled with so much beauty and sunshine and laughter and yet terrible at the same time, and then thrust back into a world that you had left so long ago and no longer knew. Damn it, he understood that now. He understood that pain and bitterness that came with the realization that you could never go back. He understood how it felt to have your whole life be ripped out from under you and then be left with nothing but shattered pieces and memories of another life, another you, and you're expected to just go on like nothing fucking happened in the first place.

Remus now understood Susan's desire to forget, the desperate hope that it was all just a lie, because if it was a lie then surely it wouldn't hurt as much. He sometimes wished too that the memories would just go away, that they would stop stabbing his heart like that, because damn it all to hell it wasn't a pincushion. He could understand her wanting to close her eyes to the ghosts that haunted her vision and made her want to scream because she was the only one who could see them.

And he also understood the other Pevensie siblings in their struggle to adjust but not to forget, to keep Narnia in their hearts but accept that they were children once again, at least on the outside. He understood the longing, that ache and gaping hole that nothing but Narnia could fill, the desire to go back just one more time. He too knew the bittersweet taste of old memories.

Just as they felt that their lives were split between the one led in Narnia—the golden one, and the dreary one they had to go back to, so Remus felt that his life was also split into two. One lifetime with the Marauders, and then without them, all alone again. Just like he had been before he had met them, those boys that had been his sun and made the world burst into radiant vivid color, which had faded and retreated with them, leaving him in dead winter.

Gone. They were fucking gone. And they wouldn't come back.

Remus didn't find himself listening for sounds of a different sea in a far-away universe, nor did he find his hands straying to phantom sword hilts or have the balls of his feet roll into unconscious stances. He didn't look into a mirror to be surprised by a child's face where an adult's used to be. His surroundings didn't fall away until he was in marble halls or elegant courtyards. No, Remus Lupin wasn't haunted by those kinds of phantoms.

Instead he would smell cinnamon and remember how James had always adamantly claimed that mint-flavored toothpaste was overrated and how he used cinnamon instead, and how Peter used to remark that he didn't see the point in making it flavored at all when you were just going to spit it back out and how Sirius had wondered if someone had ever thought to make chocolate-flavored toothpaste, and then had teased about who he knew would be the first to buy it if they ever did (Remus had thrown a pillow at his head while James had rolled off the bed and Peter smiled his dimpled smile over his textbook).

He would see an apple and remember that Lily had always cradled them in her hands, fingers placed just so and how Peter would try to rub a shiny spot on them before eating them like he had seen in movies and how James had tried to see if he could squeeze his own apple juice into a goblet at breakfast, and how Sirius had always insisted that there were different flavors of apple, and that they were red, green, and yellow ("Colors," Lily had always snapped back, "Those are just colors.")

He would hear a snatch of holiday music and be thrown back to a bright house with the heaters blasting and a tinny radio airing Christmas specials that Lily said you had to listen to even if they were cheesy and there would be a crackle of wrapping paper in the background and quiet swears—wrapping, he knew, had never been James's thing and Peter would hum along and laugh as Sirius tried to stick his finger into the cookie dough for just a taste even though he's already had some.

He never glanced up at the night sky, not because of the moon, but because of the star that shone brightest of them all that would force him to remember. He would see Lily twirling in a circle, dancing to music that she said she could hear and her quiet laugh almost shimmering in the night air. He would see a tall and proud stag, sable and black in the moonlight that would have glinted off of his glasses if he was in human form. He would see Peter's breath crystallize in winter night air as they exited a movie theater with raucous laughter and the smell of popcorn clinging to their clothes. He would see deep blue midnight sky and feel cool grass at his back and a warm soft palm with calluses holding his hand and he would tilt his head to the side to meet mercurial silver eyes that shone brighter than the stars above them, including his own namesake.

At least the siblings were promised that they would see their Narnia again. Remus didn't get that, and it would be twelve years before he could get a piece of his own Golden Age back.

Remus had never paid all that much attention before to the fourth book in the Narnian series. What was so special about Prince Caspian, really? He had just thought of it as another book in the series, albeit the last one that all four siblings would be together in. But his own cursed life kept making him draw parallels, and a book that was once turned to as an escape from reality was put to the side because suddenly it wasn't so far away any more.

The siblings had wanted so badly to come back to their beloved Narnia, to their home. They would have given anything to have it back. And come back they did. Come back to the same place, only to find that what was on the inside was different, the things that had made it their home, people and places now long dead and gone. The heart was still the same, but it beat at a different pace. Narnia was still Narnia, but it wasn't their Narnia anymore.

Remus had found Sirius again and had gotten him back after so long, but it struck him that this wasn't his Sirius anymore. What was before him now was a broken shell of what Sirius had used to be. He didn't smile, didn't laugh that intoxicating and vigorous laugh: it was soured by cynicism and a weariness that didn't suit him at all. His skin was ghastly pale with a too-deep hollow in his cheeks, stretched too tight and waxy. It used to be healthy and a cause of envy. He used to never be able to get enough of his skin, and he would press as close as he could together, skin to skin, relishing in the burning touches. Now Remus had been afraid that Sirius would break.

But his eyes were the worst change. They had sunk back deeply, the ever-shifting gray color that Remus had known so well were dead and haunted. He had liked them the best when they were cloudy and hazy, fluttering behind half-closed lids between gasps for breath.

He so very much regretted it now. Regretted not taking the chance that had been offered to him after so long. But a part of him is almost glad that he didn't, because he was sure that if he had that his heart wouldn't have lived through the second heartbreak around. It was painful enough as it was.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He didn't know what he wanted to fucking do. All he knew was that it was just too damn cruel. Why? he wanted to scream. Why did you give him back to me if you were just going to take him away again so soon? He'd had him back for less than two years and then he was fucking gone again, and this time there really was no way for him to come back.

It had hurt so much, to have him so close and still so far. To look at him and see all that history, all those old memories flickering and reeling between them like he was looking across some big gulf. They had stepped so delicately around each other, with a few timid motions that intimated that they wanted to see if they could recover what had been lost, or at least be broken together.

He was sure that Sirius had been remembering it all too.

It wasn't often when his eyes would turn that pure, molten silver color, but Remus was starting to associate it to mean nothing good.

In fact, he hated it when they were like that. Sirius's eyes were normally so expressive, even when he didn't mean them to be. When they were light gray he was happy and they would glimmer with fun, and they would widen just a bit and his lips would pull back into a guilty half-smile to let him know who had pulled that prank. They would darken like storm clouds when he was angry, with flashes like lightening when he would yell and on a couple of occasions throw things. James had pouted for days when Sirius had broken his Potions scales.

But then they would turn that damn molten color, and they would become like glass. Smooth and reflective like mirrors, giving away nothing of the thoughts locked deep down inside his mind.

"Sirius?" he said, approaching hesitantly. He couldn't gage the other boy's mood, not when his eyes were that eerie glassy silver.

The only sign of acknowledgment he gave was the slight flicker of his eyes, away from the fireplace and glancing swiftly and then away from Remus's direction. He took that as enough of an invitation to sit. His instincts turned out to be right, for Sirius didn't push him away like he would when he wanted to be left alone.

Remus followed Sirius's lead and said nothing, merely sat and watched his friend watch the flames as they crackled, on their way to fading for the night. He felt the most peculiar ache though, and there was an unfamiliar edge in his desperateness to offer the other boy some comfort. He didn't know why it bothered him so much to see Sirius in pain. Remus knew that it wouldn't have bothered him nearly so much if it was James or Peter. So why was Sirius different?

After what almost felt like an eternity of sitting there in the quiet, Sirius finally tilted his head to face Remus a little bit. He could see the flames reflecting off the silver of his eyes, highlighting his pale cheeks.

"Don't worry, Moony," he said, his voice a little raspy. "I'll be alright. Trust me."

And Remus did, although at the moment what he trusted was the slight touch of Sirius's hand against his own. As the digits brushed, he felt a tingle hum along his veins.

Dewdrops glittered on the damp grass, predawn light catching and glistening in the little orbs perched oh so delicately.

Remus felt a little silly, lying out there with Sirius in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, and felt exposed in the openness. But Sirius did have a point, that no one would be out here this early in the morning, in the slight darkness before the sun even rose. No one would see them.

And it felt nice, peaceful and relaxing. Grass tickled the back of his neck, soaking a little into the back of his shirt. But Sirius's fingers were gently intertwined with his own, and that was enough to stave off any chill, much to Remus's marvel.

They were both just content to bask in the quiet, natural sound of a waking up world. The chirping of a few crickets, the swish of branches and leaves of the Forbidden forest, the soft lapping of the lake water against the shore.

The sky was growing lighter, preparing for the arrival of the sun by shifting from gray towards white. This peaceful, sleepy spell would be broken soon, and they would have to get up and sneak back and hide away from prying eyes again.

"Remus?" came Sirius's soft whisper.

"Yeah?" he whispered back.

"You know something?" There was something almost reverential in his tone, bordering on awe.

"What?" he asked.

"I think I love you," he said, his voice still soft, as if any louder would ruin the magic of this moment.

Remus turned his head at that, staring right into Sirius's eyes that glowed in the barely there light.

"Really?" he said, his eyes searching.

Sirius's fingers tightened on his own. "Of course," he said, smiling. "Trust me."

Fresh pine needles scattered everywhere, burying themselves into the carpet and Remus was sure that it would take forever to get them all out again. A cold wind ruffled his hair and fluttered the pages of his book as he glanced up in bemusement to look at the doorway. Sirius was trying to haul into the flat a too-tall Christmas tree that scraped the ceiling, snapping off more pine needles to shower down. He was pretty sure that there was some rule or another that would be against it. He could only imagine the commotion Sirius must have made climbing the stairs, forced to do it manually because he couldn't use magic. Half the neighbors already hated them as it was.

"Sirius," he began slowly. "Exactly what do you think you're going to do with that?"

"Silly Moony," said Sirius, panting from exertion. "We're going to decorate it of course! What the hell is Christmas without a tree?"

"And that may be, but where do you think it's going to fit?" asked Remus sardonically, although the effect is ruined by the smile lifting up the corners of his mouth.

Sirius just waved a dismissive hand at that. "It will too fit," he insisted. "I'll make it fit." He turned to look directly into Remus's eyes. "Trust me," he said, and his eyes were warm and soft and melting his insides and shining with excitement, and all he could do was nod dumbly, for he had never been able to say no to those eyes, not when they were looking at him like that.

Remus's eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sunlight filtering in through the curtains. His lips formed some sort of garbled mumbling as he rubbed gritty sand from his eyes, but it was only until he stretched his legs that he realized what was missing. He peered at the other side of the bed in a bit of awakening confusion, his mind yet unable to explain why there was no other person there, why his legs weren't entangled with someone else's, why the only sounds of breathing were his own.

Then he heard running water from the bathroom sink and understanding slowly dawned on him. Remus sat up straighter, tendons in his back popping a little as he craned his head to look through the door that was standing ajar into the bathroom. Sirius stood at the sink, dark ebony hair tangled and mussed with sleep, but somehow still managing to look perfect, almost styled. His hand was jerking back and forward, arm muscles tense as he scrubbed at his teeth, glaring almost near-sightedly into the mirror. Sirius caught a glimpse of Remus's reflection, now awake, and he turned around, cherry-red toothbrush dangling from his mouth and a dot of toothpaste on his cheek. Both of them smiled at the same time.

Sirius tried to tell him good morning, but the words came out mushy and wrong from around the toothbrush, and Remus couldn't help but chuckle even as Sirius gave him a mock-offended look. Once he was finished, he crawled back into bed, still pouting.

"You're such a meanie, Moony," he huffed. "Here I am, trying to be nice and telling you good morning like a good lover should, and then all you do is go and make fun of me—"

"Padfoot, just shut up and kiss me," Remus commanded, and not waiting for a reply he reached up to kiss the pout from his lips. The kiss is soft and slow, languorous.

After a couple minutes they broke apart, breathing just a bit heavier than normal. Sirius leaned in again. "Good morning," he murmured against Remus's lips.

Said lips curved into a slow, contented smile as he mouthed back, "Good morning."

He laughed softly into Remus's mouth. "Oh, trust me, it most certainly is," he said before he sealed their lips together again.

Sirius tugged on his hand and Remus laughed a little at his impatience as he was pulled along.

"Padfoot, where are we going?" he asked for the millionth time, and again Sirius didn't tell him.

"You'll see in just a couple minutes. Come on," he whined as he tugged again on Remus's hand.

They had Apparated to what seemed to Remus to be the middle of nowhere, and he couldn't figure out what could be out here that would have Sirius so excited to show him. Sirius was now making as if to drag Remus into what looked like an abandoned barn.

"Sirius, what on earth—?"

"Come on, it's just in here, I put it here for safekeeping."

"Put what in here for safekeeping?" asked Remus, his voice a little sharp, for anything that excited Sirius this much and that he had to hide was ominous in his book.

"That!" Sirius proclaimed proudly after having successfully pulled him inside. Remus followed the pointing finger and felt his jaw drop as his eyes tried to appreciate that what he was seeing was in fact real.

It was a sleek, black motorbike.

"Oh, Padfoot, you didn't," breathed Remus, staring at what he assumed was Sirius's dream bike in the flesh.

"Yep," said Sirius, and it seemed to be costing him some effort to stop himself from bouncing off the walls in his excitement. He turned to Remus with a look in his eyes that he didn't like at all, for the gray was sparkling with mischief. "You want to ride it?"

Remus gaped at him, immediately stating that he most certainly did not want to get on the bike, but since when did he ever win against Sirius when he got like this?

"Trust me," Sirius had whispered into his ear, causing a shiver to trace down his spine.

And when he found himself flying along an empty road with the rush of wind in his hair and Sirius's barking laughter ringing in the air and his arms wrapped tight around Sirius's waist, he couldn't help but smile and bury his head into the back of Sirius's leather jacket and think that maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

He was so, so tired. They both were. Tired to the bone, tired to the point where he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. Scratch that, he didn't even want to sleep. He just wanted to pass out. You dreamed when you slept, and Remus didn't want to dream, didn't want to see the stamp of the blood of someone that they'd known, had joked around with, had rolled their eyes at Moody's constant paranoia. Irrationally, Remus thought that if he hadn't caught their eyes in jest at that one meeting, if he hadn't treated vigilance as something to laugh at, maybe Gideon would still be alive.

But despite being tired, despite just aching everywhere, he couldn't sleep, couldn't drop off, not just yet. Neither could Sirius. They needed to feel each other first, feel burning skin against burning skin, insistent tongue against insistent tongue. It was a need to reassure themselves that they were both still alive, that the other wasn't going to suddenly vanish like smoke, that they still had a reason to keep fighting.

It was a survival thing.

The air was filled with desperate breaths and heavy pants and drawn out moans. All around, there was just heat heat heat and friction.

"Promise me, Sirius," Remus rasped out. "Promise me that you'll never leave me."

"I won't!" gasped Sirius. "I promise, Remus, I will never, ever, leave—"

Even after coherency was lost, Remus kept staring into those eyes that were fixed just as determinedly on his own, clouded over with lust and the love in them shining like the sun behind the cloud.

Later when Remus could no longer win the battle against exhaustion dragging at his lids, he heard a rough voice whisper in his ear, "Trust me."

Remus only ever picked up The Chronicles of Narnia books again to toss them into the fire.

October, 2002

"Daddy!"

Remus sighed, resisting the urge to both pinch the bridge of his nose and the urge to smile.

"Teddy," he began, in as patient a voice he could muster that didn't also betray his amusement. "It isn't playtime anymore. It's time for bed."

Teddy pouted, eyes going round and his lips going wobbly in a way that only toddlers could master, the tips of his currently sandy-brown hair darkening to blue.

"Oh no, you don't," said Remus, pouncing on him and tickling giggles and small shrieks of laughter out of him. "No pouting, and its bedtime."

As Remus carefully tucked his son in, he couldn't help but still let his eyes trace over his small form in wonder. He still couldn't grasp that this miracle had survived a war, and hopefully wouldn't know anything about it, at least for a long time.

His own heart was still tattered, the pieces threaded together in clumsy stitches. He still wondered at how this little person had managed to be the shard of light in his fractured world. God knew that Dora tried. He wished he could try harder for her. Wished he could be the husband she so deserved. But Remus was afraid that all the strength and energy he had left was being put into being a good father to Teddy. He felt a sharp pang of guilt over that…but he just wasn't strong enough to live up to what he wanted to be anymore. He had just lived in too many incarnations of his life. But he still wearily hoped that he could build up momentum, reward Dora's patience and steadfastness at his side.

"Daddy?"

Remus looked into his son's eyes, blue today. His fingers brushed away strands of hair from his forehead.

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

"What story do you want me to read to you?"

"No! Tell me a new story."

"A new story? Like what?"

"Something true. Like the story about the sun girl and the boy."

"Hi! You're Remus, right?"

Remus jumped, startled, the book he had been pulling from the shelf landing on the ground with a dull thump. Madam Pince threw him a nasty glare as she swept by as he hastily bent down to pick up the fallen book.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that."

Remus glanced at the speaker as he straightened, and he just couldn't help but stare at her a little, even though he knew it was quite rude. She was just so…striking. She was a little girl his age, and he didn't even mean little in the age sense but in the size sense. She was so small and tiny. But not fragile. No, energy seemed to burst out of this girl like the sun, accented by a halo of fiery red hair and set off against the brilliant green of her eyes.

"It's f-fine," he stammered. "I just…how do you know my name? Do I know you?"

She merely smiled a toothy smile in reply. "No, not yet. We're in the same year in Gryffindor. My name's Lily Evans."

He didn't know why, or what it was, but there was just something about this girl and her smile that made his own lips tug up in response.

"Hi, Lily," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake, and when she did he mused that she seemed to do all things in life with the same energy that radiated out of her. Even when doing such a small thing like shaking hands. "I'm Remus Lupin…but I guess you knew that."

Her smile left no room for awkwardness. "I just wanted to know if you would like to sit at a table with my friends and me. We're studying and working on homework."

He felt his heart clench and his eyes darted away, back to the bookshelf. He couldn't make any friends. He just couldn't. It was hard now, denying her and everyone else, but he knew this was nothing to how he would feel if they found out his secret and left him, like he knew they would.

"I—can't, right now. Thanks anyway."

To his surprise, when he chanced a glance at her, he saw that her smile hadn't diminished one bit. If anything, she just beamed that sunshine smile brighter at him. "That's okay. Maybe next time then."

"Sure," he echoed distantly.

She studied him for a brief moment, and for one terrified second he was sure that she was peering into his soul, could see into his heart and read his mind. Then the moment passed, and the smile was still on her lips when she said, "You and I are going to be great friends."

Even as his heart lifted a little as she walked away, he couldn't help but feel disturbed at the ring of certainty her words held.

Remus felt his throat constrict. "Boy?"

"Yeah, Daddy, the boy who loved the sun girl," giggled Teddy.

"Remus?"

He picked up on the serious tone this conversation would have through James's use of his real name as opposed to his nickname, even though James's voice was determinedly light and casual.

"Yes, James?"

"…How do you know that you love someone?"

Remus hesitated before answering. "James…I've never exactly been in love…"

"I know that…I just…"

Remus considered the question for a moment.

"Well…I think only you would know the answer to that. I suppose…well, try to imagine your life without Lily for a moment."

"Who said I was talking about Lily?" demanded James, his cheeks flushing a little. His hand reached up to adjust the crooked glasses on his nose.

"James, please. I'm not stupid," said Remus tartly. "Anyway…imagine that you are never, ever going to see her again. Can you picture your life without her?"

"I…"

"Can you picture life without me, Sirius, or Peter?"

"No!"

"So you love us," concluded Remus. "Can you picture life without Lily?"

"…No…"

"What do you want from Lily?"

"…For her to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"No, not like that," sighed Remus. "I meant like…does seeing her happy make you happy?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so…no, it does."

"So do you want to make her happy?"

"Yes…"

"So if you had the choice, to see Lily happy or to be with her, which would you choose?"

"Why can't she be happy with me?"

"That's not the point here, James. Just pick one."

James hesitated. Remus could see him chewing his lip as he gave this serious thought. "I guess…I guess I would rather her be happy. I mean…there wouldn't be much point to her being with me otherwise, and it just…wouldn't be fair. To anyone."

"Then you love her," said Remus simply.

James heaved a sigh at that. "Shouldn't that make me feel better, somehow?" he grumbled.

Remus smiled a little. "The course of true love never did run smooth."

James groaned at that, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Great. Now you're quoting Shakespeare at me."

"Well, why not? Lots of Shakespeare's plays were about love. Heck, you could even call him an expert."

"Yeah," muttered James. "But I've also noticed that an awful lot of his characters ended up dying. Look at Romeo and Juliet. And I don't want to be like Romeo. Romeo was kind of lame."

"You shouldn't judge until you've read the book," said Remus, ignoring James's glare. "Besides," he added, his lips twitching, "You'd be Juliet."

Even James's well-aimed thrown pillow didn't manage to wipe the smirk off Remus's face.

"Oh," said Remus, speaking through numb lips. "I thought you meant the other boy."

"The boy with the cards?"

"Yes. That one."

Remus couldn't help the frown that tugged down his mouth as he tore open his last Chocolate Frog to find yet another Cliodna. He sighed. He was never going to get Circe, at the rate he was going.

Peter shot him an inquisitive look from his seat opposite Remus as the train flashed by the countryside. "Which one were you hoping to get?"

"Circe," muttered Remus, flushing a little. James and Sirius would have laughed and called him a nerd if they knew that he wanted Circe so bad because he wanted to give it to his mother, because he knew that she loved Greek mythology.

"Why?" asked Peter, tilting his head as Remus winced a little at the dread question. But Remus sucked it up and explained it to him. When he was done, Peter was smiling. "That's really nice," he said, to Remus's surprise. "And I can give you a Circe tonight when we get to Hogwarts, if you want."

"Really?" asked Remus, still slightly expecting the taunting.

"Sure," said Peter. "I only have the one, but I want you to have it. Your mum would appreciate it better than I would."

Of course. Remus had forgotten that Peter wasn't James and Sirius.

"Thanks, Peter," said Remus warmly.

Peter smiled again, and Remus noticed for the first time that there were dimples indenting his cheeks. "No problem."

"Daddy!" Remus jerked out of his slight reverie, smiling a little at the impatient look on his son's face. "Story?"

"Hmm…let me see…"

The memories hurt still, the oldest ones more than they had in years because the recent wounds to his heart were still mending. And he knew from experience that the hurt would never fully fade away.

And because of that pain, there was one person that Remus had never touched upon with his son except in passing in other stories. Quite honestly, Remus didn't know what to do, how to talk about him. How do you talk to your son about the person, a man no less, that you loved more than his mother? How could Remus himself bear to see the pain his son would feel upon the realization that, had that man lived, he would never have been born? He couldn't. He couldn't do that.

But could he ever just let Sirius fade away, either? Experience had told him already that he couldn't stop loving him, even when he didn't want to…

"You really do hate it, don't you?"

Remus turned away from the dormitory window. The half-full moon bathed Sirius in slithering light that would give way to crawling shadow. Sirius's eyes were concerned, but his own were thoughtful.

"Yeah," said Remus quietly.

"It doesn't hurt you now, does it?"

"No," Remus assured. "That's not it. I—I just…I hate that it has a pull on me. I hate that it controls me, and that there's nothing I can do about it, nothing that I can do to change it."

"Maybe someday—"

"Lycanthropy has no cure, Sirius," cut in Remus bitterly. "I've accepted that, and it's time that everyone else accepted it too. The wolf is here to stay."

Sirius was silent for a long moment. "You know what we should do, then?" he asked eventually.

"What?"

"Maybe we should do it the other way around."

Remus stared at him in incomprehension. "What?" he repeated, this time with his confusion coloring it.

"You know…people keep on trying to get rid of the wolf in you. So, maybe we should do it the other way around. Get rid of the moon instead."

Remus stared for another moment, and then started laughing.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Sirius sniffed at him. "That's what people always say to the greatest ideas."

Remus shook his head, still amused. "Besides…who would be willing to get rid of the moon for the sake of werewolves?"

"I would," Sirius promised, eyes bright in the darkness around them. "I would chase down the moon for you, Remus."

Teddy's eyes were still fixed upon him, waiting for his father to come up with a story that he said were so much better than Mummy's, at which she would just laugh and throw Remus a glowing smile and tell Teddy that she liked Daddy's stories too.

Daddy. Remus had never thought that he would be a daddy.

I have a son, Sirius. Can you believe it? I bet you wouldn't…but you would say that you always knew that I would be a good father. You told me that when I was so afraid to hold Harry after he was born…

After another second, Remus made his decision.

His Sirius would remain in his heart and in his memories. He and their love would only be known to Teddy as a childhood bedtime story.

"I wish…I wish this could last forever."

"Mhm…I don't."

"Why not?"

"…I don't want to think that this is all there is. I would want…want to grow, I guess. If nothing changed, then you would never know if things could get to be even better."

"That was shockingly deep."

"Even I can surprise you."

Remus cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a boy, a boy with beautiful eyes and a merry smile, and one day he decided that he would chase down the moon…"

"Remember, I will still be here, as long as you hold me in your memory. Remember. As long as I can still reach out and touch you, then I will never die. Remember, I'll never leave you, if you will only remember me." –"Remember", Josh Groban