The house was still as he remembered it even after all of the years. The paint on the outside was peeling and faded from a constant battering of salt air over the course of half a century, but it was still blue. The porch still wrapped around and though it was covered in sand and debris and some windows were broken from the last storm that went through, the house still remained standing and solid as ever. The protection charms he put on them when they first bought the house were the best and, apparently, still working to some extent.
Amber eyes lit upon the pathetic remains of a garden left to grow wild and a weary grin tugged at his chapped lips. The weeds had overtaken what used to be a very proper vegetable garden, a garden that he used to grow carrots and peas in and made Sirius eat even when the other man protested that he didn't eat "rabbit food". After a few minutes of dancing around the same topic, he finally managed to convince the stubborn man that it was for the best and that if he ate all of his vegetables he would thoroughly enjoy his dessert.
As the waves lapped at the sand surrounding the house, a wave of sorrow washed over him and he nearly doubled over at the pain flowering in his chest.
"Remus, are you okay? Should we leave?" It was a relatively young voice that spoke to him; a voice filled with strength and concern, concern that was mirrored in the bracing hand that encircled his bony elbow to keep him from falling face-first in the sand.
Remus turned his head and looked up— he'd started looking up at him ever since the boy—or man, rather—started growing up and Remus started growing down with age—at the tousle-haired man that looked so much like his dear friend, long gone, and shook his head. "I am alright, Harry, thank you. I just…" he paused, swallowing past the thick knot in his throat. "Memories, that's all. You understand," Remus continued. He straightened up and took a deep breath of cleansing ocean air, patted Harry's forearm, and walked up the creaking wooden porch steps.
Harry did not look entirely convinced but knew enough about the older man to understand that arguing with him in the emotional state he was in was not a good idea. Even at fifty, the werewolf still had a great deal of kick in him, especially when Remus wasn't fully aware of himself as he was now.
Remus felt like he was in a dream, transported back thirty-two years to when the house was first bought. He placed a scarred hand on the weathered yellow door and took a moment to collect himself before murmuring the incantation that would unlock the spells keeping it shut. The door glowed blue for a second and a series of clicks could be heard until finally Remus wrapped his arthritic fingers around the knob and turned it.
The first thing he noticed about the living room was that it still smelled like him. It still had the lingering scent, noticeable only to his keen werewolf nose, of Sirius. On the couch they spent many an evening curled up on watching Muggle television or just reading in front of the fireplace. The bookshelf was bare from the move and covered in sand and seaweed, but Remus could still picture it filled to very corners with reference books and classic English literature, the latter of which he tried so hard to get Sirius to appreciate.
Some fur of Padfoot's was in a dust pile under the table, probably swept there by a stiff breeze that entered through the broken window that faced the ocean. Remus remembered sitting on the rug with a curry comb getting brambles and seaweed from the big black dog's glossy fur after their Sunday afternoon excursions to the beach.
Harry, sensing another seam about to burst on the older man's mind, put a warm hand on Remus's thin shoulder and pulled him gently against his chest for a hug. He felt Remus's body tense up and then break down as his walls crumbled and tears flowed, staining Harry's white shirt with the salty drops. Harry let him cry, knowing that he certainly did a great deal of crying of his own when he got the news. He ran his hands up and down Remus's back in an attempt to comfort the man who helped raised him.
After several minutes passed, Remus finally raised his head and wiped his tears on his shirtsleeve. "I am sorry, Harry. I must look a mess. The…the full moon is close and I just get really emotional when…when it does." 'Yeah, more like when I know that for the first time in almost forty years I'll transforming alone and that I'm scared shitless,' he corrected himself in his mind. He was truthfully terrified; he did not know how to be alone and certainly did not trust the wolf to behave itself. In fact, he was positive that something terrible would happen when it discovered that Padfoot was not there to run beside it and already Remus was preparing his supplies of healing potions for the torment that would be wreaked upon him.
"Remus, it's okay, really," Harry said and managed to meet the other man's gaze, striking green locking with wolfish amber. "We don't have to do this today, you know. You can still live with me and Draco until you get—"
"What? Back on my feet?" Remus interrupted, a little sharper than he intended. "I'm never going to get back on my feet or even my knees to so much as crawl if I don't start accepting reality. Even if reality is not what I want to see," he continued, this time in a gentler tone. "You and Draco have been gracious hosts and very kind for letting me stay with you, but it's time for me to move on, Harry."
Ever since Kingsley Shacklebolt came to the door of 12 Grimmauld Place four weeks ago to tell him that Sirius had been killed during a mission, Remus had been living with Harry and his partner Draco in their flat in the heart of the London. He acted mostly as a recluse, coming out of the guest room just for meals and to use the loo. He knew they were worried about his health (he'd lost a great deal of weight since Sirius died) and his sanity, but could not bring himself to fake a happy face. It was best if he got away from them so he didn't have to try.
"But Remus, you—" Harry tried again, worry writ across his strong-boned face.
"But nothing, Harry. It's time enough for me to move out and start my life again." Remus wished he was as convinced as his words made him sound. In truth, Remus didn't know what he would do without his best friend and husband there sharing living space. He had never lived alone before.
Straight out of Hogwarts, Sirius insisted that Remus get a flat with him in London, so he did. They lived as fashionable young men did in the late 70s, early 80s, going clubbing and dancing and drinking almost every night and shagging like bunnies when they returned home. When James and Lily were murdered, Remus was able to prove Sirius's innocence with an alibi (however incriminating sexually) and direct the blame to Peter, as Lily told Remus on the sly that they'd changed the secret-keeper to Peter. Lily and Remus's friendship extended back to their first year at school and continued to grow when they were Prefects together and then beyond Hogwarts. Losing Lily had been equally as hard on Remus as losing James had been, but with their friends' deaths, Harry came into their lives.
Many people in the Ministry had something nasty to say about Harry being raised by two gay men, especially when one of them was a werewolf. Werewolf custody laws were tricky and very hard to read with all of the blurred lines and everyone's opinion but they fought hard for him and, with Dumbledore's very good help and influence, secured custody.
A one-bedroom apartment in the heart of London was no place to raise a baby though, so Remus and Sirius went looking for a proper house. It was Sirius who found the blue cottage on the ocean that Remus currently stood in. Sirius remembered hearing all of Remus's stories of growing up in Dover and knew Remus felt most at home by the sea. They bought the house and moved in and raised Harry as best as they knew how.
Those years were some of the best, Remus felt. They taught Harry how to walk and talk and never failed to supplement bedtime stories with tales of their pranks as Marauders and with stories of how often Lily shot down James's attempts at getting with her, a particular favorite of Sirius's to tell. They raised Harry to be a confident and tolerant young man and it was certainly no surprise to them when he was Sorted into Gryffindor and they could not have been more proud.
His life with Sirius had been especially meaningful while Harry was off at school. They finally had their lives to themselves again after so many years and got to know each other all over again. Remus picked up a part-time job in a Muggle bookstore in town and Sirius continued to Apparate to work as an Auror. When Sirius would come home from work, Remus would always be there with a warm body, delicious food, and beer.
Life was as wonderful as it could possibly be with all that was happening.
When Harry graduated and moved to London, Sirius wanted to be closer to his godson just in case something happened, especially when Harry started seeing 'that Malfoy brat', as Sirius so eloquently deigned to call Draco, clearly trusting no one within three generations of his family. They moved into 12 Grimmauld Place and Remus kept busy by cleaning it up for proper living.
Remus was so sure that he was going to live out his final days there. Well, there or in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. He was positive that he would be the first to go, the one to leave Sirius all alone, the last of the Marauders. Before James died, Remus had thought that he would be the first of the four to hop on over to the great beyond given his lycanthropy and the knowledge that most werewolves did not see forty, let alone fifty.
But no, that wasn't the case. Remus was the last one, the last of a dying breed of young men who indulged in glam rock, hair bands, and the finest pranks Hogwarts ever saw. Remus knew he wasn't completely alone in the world; he had friends, of course. Harry and Draco, Kingsley, even Severus who had softened over the years, but life was not going to be the same. He had been with Sirius for thirty-five years and without him there, he felt empty.
"Uh…Remus? Come on, let's go back. We'll do this another day," Harry tried again after seeing the man stand in one place staring off into the distance for several seconds.
Remus shook his head and gave the younger man a stern look. "No. Absolutely not. I can be just as stubborn as you, Harry. I was in Gryffindor, too, you know, and I am doing this. Now come on," he urged and plowed further into the house.
He revisited every room but did not feel the same feeling of dread as he did when he approached the door to the master bedroom. Remus stood there staring at the doorknob for a good three minutes before he finally plucked up the courage to open it. A whirlwind of smells and, subsequently, memories hit him and Remus couldn't help but whisper, "Sirius." In his daze, Remus could have (and would have) sworn he saw a shaggy black dog slip into the closet with a wagging tail and mischievous gray eyes.
His hopes rose against reason and he chased the phantom with bated breath, but came up with short in an empty closet. He raked a hand through his hair in agony, mostly silver now with only a few brave strands of tawny hair shot through the scraggly mass, and looked around. The only things there were some mothballs, dust bunnies, and sand. This realization crushed Remus more than he cared to admit. He had seen Sirius's body with his own eyes, knew that the Avada Kedavra curse had been cast, had been at his funeral. His heart just wasn't ready to let the man go and probably never would be, he reasoned with himself.
Sirius was his first and only love, the first person to ever give him proper friendship. He led James and Peter (how his hackles still rose at even the thought of that name) into becoming animagus for his sake and continued, month after month, to accompany him into the forest for his transformations. Even after the Wolfsbane potion was invented, Padfoot still kept him company in the woods and they ran as wolf and dog until the sun came up.
A glimpse of something red caught his eye and Remus walked further into the closet. In a corner was a dog collar with gold tags and Remus picked it up just as he fell to his knees with a dry sob. He pressed the old thing to his nose and inhaled deeply, able to pick up strong traces of Padfoot's scent in the nylon with his keen sense of smell. It was crippling.
Harry found Remus holding the collar to his chest looking like a man without purpose in life. He cautiously walked over to where Remus was huddled, not wanting to startle the older man into doing something rash, and knelt down beside him with an arm around his shoulder. "Remus, let's go home. I know you think you are, but you aren't ready for this. You have nothing to be ashamed of, you've just lost the most important person in your life. It is okay," he pleaded with him. Harry didn't know what Remus would do if he left him there alone. There were plenty of ways for a wizard to commit suicide and while Remus would not have been the type to even consider doing so a few months ago, Harry wasn't so sure now. Sirius seemed to be the glue that kept him together.
Remus was silent for a long stretch of time before he tucked the collar into his pocket. He nodded dumbly to Harry's previous statement and stood up to his feet, using Harry as a crutch. "You're right. This house is not a home, not without Sirius. I'm—"
"There's nothing to apologize for, Remus," Harry murmured and drew the frail-looking man into a hug, doing his best not to cry, to be strong for him like Remus had been strong when telling Harry what happened to his parents when he was older.
The two of them left the room, the house, and the county of Kent for the bustling city of London and unpacked Remus's things with the help of a quiet but comforting Draco.
Later that night, Remus pulled out the old collar and ran his fingers across the engraved letters: 'For my dearest Padfoot, may you always find your way back home'. He rolled over onto his side and placed the collar reverently on his pillow—a pillow that had once been Sirius's. He wore one of Sirius's old shirts and his sweatpants though they were both too large and too short on his long and lanky frame, was wrapped in Sirius's favorite blanket, and there was a photo on the nightstand of the two of them at their marriage ceremony, looking like two men who thought nothing bad could ever happen to them, that they were invincible.
If only that principle still applied, he would still have his lover and wouldn't need all of those things to feel close to him again. "It's all just a crazy game, a dream," Remus whispered to himself resolutely. "I will go back to Grimmauld Place in the morning and when I climb the stairs, he'll still be there, wondering where I've been. And he'll scold because he was worried sick about me but then he'll hold me and tell me that I've been so silly for thinking that he'd ever leave me all alone. He promised never to leave, after all." Those pleasant thoughts helped Remus drift off to sleep where he dreamed of the past, of spending evenings in the Gryffindor Common Room drinking hot chocolate and playing exploding snap with his mates.
If he could keep dreaming, everything would go back to the way it was, the way it was supposed to be.