Chapter Twenty-Four: Promises

Don't need a ring for my finger. Just need a steady hand to hold.

"Sirius…" Remus came up behind him, and his touch was soft, tender. He ran a gentle hand against Sirius's neck. "You did it."

Sirius turned—with an expression of boy-like delight painted on his face. He grinned—not his usual, cocky smirk, deliciously flirtatious—but something more genuine—something real. The joy of someone who had fought hard and won—the joy of someone who had everything to lose.

"I did," Sirius said, and it was clear that he still couldn't quite believe it.

Remus grabbed his hand, joy bursting in his chest, love coursing through his veins. "You did it without fighting. You woke the pack. Sirius, you're incredible."

Sirius laughed—more from disbelief than anything. He ruffled a hand through his hair, and stared at Remus—his love, his reason for fighting, the hope he had harbored against the pressing darkness.

The king and Ylva stood in the far end of the tunnel—talking, for the first time in years, really seeing each other for the first time in decades. Both wept openly. It was like the world had shrunk around them—and nothing could stir them—not the Fated Ones, not Sirius and Remus, not the world slowly creaking awake. Greyback wouldn't turn any more people—Sirius was sure of that.

And the pack was free—completely free—at last. As Greyback's fear and rage dwindled, so too did the final tendons of the enchantment placed over them. It was an incredible sight to see the wolves come to life fully, to see the last remnants of magic fade from their eyes, to see them realize—at last—that they had reason to hope.

Sirius and Remus watched the wolves for a long while, their hands entwined in each other's pockets, their hearts beating as one.

Finally, Sirius asked, "Now what?"

Remus gave him an adoring look—one full of ferocious hope and courage. "Let's go home."

The words sparked something in him, and for the first time, Remus let himself imagine it. He could go back. Back to the world above, back to their little bedroom, back to Orpheus Coffee. Back to triple espressos and long walks under a cloudy sky. Back to early mornings and late nights, their limbs tangled under the covers, their love for each other shining like a star in the darkness. They could have it all. "Let's go right now."

Sirius barked out a surprised laugh. But Remus was serious. His eyes shone with hope, and as he realized the immensity of what laid before him, he couldn't hide his delight. Remus spun Sirius, laughing, saying, "Come on, let's go!"

Sirius let himself be taken away by the fantasy. He'd never seen Remus like this. At least not since when they first met—not since that walk along the south bank, not since Lily and James's wedding. They'd been so young then—full of naive optimism and lust.

"Okay," Sirius said, letting himself be spun, letting himself imagine the world Remus saw. "But… how will we get out?"

"The way you came," Remus said, like it was simple, like there was nothing to it. "We'll walk."

But already, Sirius could feel some of his hope dimming, some of his certainty fading. The Fated Ones had guided Remus the whole way down—he didn't know how treacherous path was without them. "It's dangerous," Sirius warned. "It took me weeks to get here."

"Who cares?" Remus pulled Sirius into a kiss, cupping his face gently in his hand. "We have all the time in the world."

And, finally, Sirius let himself hope. He let himself see. A long life with Remus by his side. No wolves to hide from—no wars to fight. They could have a house—a place of their own—with a garden and south facing windows that shone golden at dawn. They'd have friends over every Friday—James and Lily—Marlene, and even Ylva if she was up top. They could have a family.

Kids.

The thought settled in him, as sweet and fragile as spun sugar. Sirius had never let himself imagine a life beyond the wolves—a life of peace, of simple pleasures—quiet mornings, fresh baked bread, the sound of little footsteps coming down the stairs. A family, with no fighting, no expectations.

They could make the world again. Parents, who loved their kids. Brothers, who had no need to abandon each other.

Sirius had never let himself imagine such a life.

But now that he did, the image held him in its grasp.

He wanted it.

He wanted it more than he had ever known.

"I've never lived without a battle to fight," Sirius said. "I don't even know what our life will look like together."

"Me neither," Remus said. "I've spent my whole life on the run. You're the only family I have ever had."

"I don't know if I can keep the promises I made… all those months ago," Sirius finally admitted. And a shadow of shame fell over his face. "I said I could protect you. I said I would never let you get hurt. But I already failed—"

"We were both doing our best," Remus said. "I don't need someone to keep me safe from the world. I just need someone to stand with me—someone to love me. Someone who promises to stick with me—even when times are hard. Even…" Remus faltered, his eyes flickering. "Even when I become a wolf every full moon."

Of course.

How had Sirius forgotten?

Greyback's enchantment may have lifted, but the curse of the werewolf was for life. It didn't matter where they went, or how free they were—Remus would turn every month like clockwork.

Sirius took a deep breath.

What was a little lycanthropy in the grand scheme of things? Remus was the great love of his life. The full moons they could handle. Remus would have to do a lot worse than turn into a hungry beast once a month to make Sirius leave.

"I can do that." Sirius searched his lover's face. "I can't promise to be perfect—I can't promise I will never make a mistake. But I can promise I'll never turn my back on you."

Remus tucked a stray hair behind Sirius's ear. "And I will never leave you," he said. "I'll be right behind you our entire lives."

They kissed again—and both felt a sharp edge of hunger settle into them. Remus tangled a hadn't in Sirius's hair and Sirius inhaled sharply, goosebumps scattering across his neck. He'd been so terrified of losing Remus that he hadn't let himself feel his bone-deep hunger for him. But now it was back—and it was all he could do to keep himself from taking Remus right then and there.

"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked.

"We'll ask. Ylva will help us," Remus said. "Greyback too, I bet. Just look at him."

Sirius did—and he believed Remus. The king was besotted, unfurled. He laughed with his daughter, his eyes shining. His heart had opened for the first time in decades—how could he close it again now?

"And what about the wolves?" Sirius asked. "They deserve to be free too."

They will be," said Remus confidently. "We can lead the way. If Greyback banishes the Fated Ones, he won't be able to control the pack. They can all follow us all the up."

Sirius took in his beloved—this tough, heartbroken man—he had never believed in anyone more. He had never loved anyone more. He wanted to grow old and frail with him—he wanted to watch every sunrise and share every cup of coffee. "Do you promise to stay with me?" he asked.

Remus nodded, crying, smiling. "I do." He ran a gentle thumb over Sirius's tear-stained face. "And do you promise to stay with me?"

Sirius could hardly speak. "I do."

And that was enough.

Some people need gold and finery—some need champagne and dancing and the support of a hundred friends. But these broken and lost boys—these brave and hopeful boys—they found each other—they were devoted to each other.

And that was enough of a wedding for them.

Sirius turned to Greyback first—took Remus's hand and led him to the king.

Greyback looked less terrible now—less enormous, less powerful. He didn't look like the king of the wolves. He just looked like a man who was happy to have his daughter back.

Voice shaking, heart trembling, Sirius faced the king and asked, "Can we go?"

Every eye turned to Greyback. Sirius and Remus, of course, but also the pack—desperately praying this would be the start of a new reign. The Fated Ones looked furious—almost invisible—almost faded, though not entirely. And Ylva stared at her father, hardly daring to hope.

This would be the moment of truth—the moment he decided just what kind of king he would be.

Everyone watched him, desperate, hopeful.

And all Greyback could say was, "I don't know."