The next few weeks are similar to the first breakfast. Harry and Remus go about their usual lives, and Sirius is quietly there. Harry spends a night at the Weasleys' for the full moon, a 24 hour period where Sirius completely avoids Remus. Remus knows he couldn't have actually helped - he would have refused any help Sirius offered on the grounds of Sirius not being well enough - but despite that, he feels slightly disappointed. He tells himself he's being selfish and tucks the thought away.
It's summer now, so their little homeschooling group doesn't have classes, but Harry still regularly goes to the Weasleys or Lovegoods for a few hours most days. Normally Remus' house would be in the rotation, too, but he's trying to keep things relatively quiet there.
Sirius hardly talks. It seems incredible to Remus, but sometimes he can almost forget Sirius is there. It's like having a ghost. He catches sight of him every few hours, feels the ground shift under his feet as he struggles with warring joy and guilt, but then Sirius utterly ignores him, and Remus has to keep moving.
But then something happens like it does two days after the full moon. Remus looks up from the research he has laid out on the dining room table and is alarmed to see wandlight bouncing around the front room. Harry is usually good about leaving Remus' wand alone, but it doesn't mean he always resists temptation.
Remus half runs into the room, reacting too fast to sort through the scents that would have told him it's not Harry playing with his wand - it's Sirius. Remus stops in the doorway to watch Sirius twirling the lit wand between his fingers. The relief on his face as he makes the wand brighten and dim makes Remus' throat ache. Remus knows people lose their power in that prison sometimes, but he'd been too focused on Sirius' physical health to worry too much about that. Sirius realizes he's being watched and sets the wand down, looking slightly sheepish.
"Sorry," Sirius mutters.
"No, it's fine," Remus says hurriedly. "You can use it."
Sirius picks up the wand again. He levitates a book and lights a candle on the mantle. Remus watches him, feels his gaze settling on Sirius' jawline, on the sweep of his cheekbones. Tries not to think You are so absurdly handsome, even after all that, because he's not sure he's permitted to think that anymore.
"This feels childish," Sirius mutters.
Remus actually laughs. "Childish? Considering how long it's been and that's not your wand… Give yourself some credit, Sirius."
Sirius gives him a timid look that might be gratitude.
"We could get to Ollivanders soon," Remus suggests. "Get you a new one?"
Sirius nods at this suggestion, but they don't make any plans, and a few days later, it seems like that might be all the conversation they'll get out of Sirius for a while. He takes to dropping into his dog form and roaming through the woods. This alarms Remus at first, but Sirius always comes back after a few hours, and the rambling seems to awaken his appetite a bit. Remus doesn't know how Dumbledore made the Ministry ignore Sirius' illegal animagus status, but he's grateful for it, though there's a nagging fear in the back of his mind that this favor will have a price eventually. Dumbledore's favors always do.
Seeing Padfoot the first few times is wrenching. The dog is so strongly tied to the stag in Remus' head that he finds himself looking past Padfoot for Prongs. Remus has missed James' bitterly for five years, but Sirius' presence sharpens that pain almost unbearably. They have never known each other without James there with his open heart and idealism and teasing and infallible ability to shake his misfit friends out of themselves. James' absence feels like a ragged hole they're both about to fall into.
Of course, they've never known each other without Peter somewhere nearby, either. Thinking about Peter Pettigrew makes Remus dizzy. Remus has missed Peter, too, these last five years. Now Remus looks at all of the memories of him differently, wondering when Peter knew he was going to turn on them. He finds himself thinking, surely, that it was toward the end? He will never say this to Sirius, but part of him very much wants to hold onto the memories of 15-year-old Peter and the things he did, like studying furiously to become an animagus.
Remus wonders if, in a kinder world, their group of school friends would just have drifted apart after school. That would have been normal; relationships are different when you're not living together and sharing every experience the way you do at school. But in the environment they'd been thrown into at 18, the cracks that widened between them became deadly.
Remus feels cold thinking about his own reaction to seeing Peter again in Dumbledore's office. He's very aware that the moment he saw a sliver of hope for Sirius, he completely abandoned Peter. He gave Peter no opportunity to explain. Remus chose the possibility of Sirius' innocence over even trying to listen to the friend crying on the floor in front of him. He didn't attend Peter's trials, and now Peter is rotting in the same prison that reduced Sirius to a hollow-eyed ghost.
Had Peter always known he'd do that? Throw him over without hesitation? Maybe Peter really wasn't that safe in a group of people where he was no one's first priority.
Remus can mull this over only so long before he pictures James grinning, remembers Lily laughing in the common room, or imagines Sirius starving in prison. He can parse this all apart until Harry smiles at him. Then he thinks Peter's lucky he's somewhere Remus can't get to him.
Remus doesn't blame Sirius for escaping these thoughts in Padfoot. Sometimes he thinks about the oblivion of the full moon with longing.
It's not until a couple weeks pass that Harry sees Sirius as Padfoot. It's late afternoon and Sirius scratches at the backdoor until Remus, who's just returned from picking up Harry, opens it. Sirius limps slightly coming through the door, which explains why he hasn't turned back and opened it himself. It's easier to heal a wound in the form it's been sustained. Padfoot whines slightly and holds up his left foreleg.
"Oh," Remus says. He tries to quiet the part of his mind that is irrationally happy that Sirius has come to him for help. "I can fix that, Padfoot, sure. Sit."
"Is that Sirius?"
Harry has followed Remus into the kitchen. He's standing in the doorway, staring at the dog. Remus has already explained that this is something Sirius can do, and Harry was excited about it, believing he'd found a way around Remus' reluctance to get a pet. "Yes," he says as he pulls a neat healing kit from under the sink. "He scratched his leg up, it's not bad, though. He - hey!"
He turns back with the kit to find Padfoot limping across the kitchen floor toward Harry. Padfoot has been skittish around Remus, but now his tail is wagging timidly. Harry grins, delighted. Harry is short for his age, and Padfoot is a big dog - they're nearly at each other's eye level.
Remus has coached Harry in how to act around dogs, and he follows those steps now. He holds out his hand for Padfoot to sniff, which he does. Harry reaches forward and pats him gently on the head. Remus' heart is melting, is going to be fairly useless soon. Padfoot's tail wags harder, which is all the encouragement Harry needs to hug him around the neck, burying his face in his thick fur.
"Good Padfoot," Harry says.
"Very nice, Harry," Remus says, fighting and almost managing to keep his voice steady. "Can you - um - can you get him over here so I can look at that leg?"
Harry walks over to him obediently with one hand lightly on Padfoot's shoulder, bringing him along. Remus sits on the floor and holds out a hand, into which Padfoot very gingerly places his paw.
The cut isn't bad, fairly shallow but it scraps along several inches. Remus murmurs a few cleaning charms over it, and wipes it down with ointment. Harry watches quietly. As the adopted child of a werewolf, despite Remus' success at sheltering Harry from the grimmer aspects, Harry is used to wounds and healing.
Padfoot tests out the leg a little timidly and, apparently feeling better, grumbles good naturedly and snuffles against Harry. Harry squeals with laughter and runs away. Padfoot chases him.
The house is laid out in such a way that Harry can run in a continuous circle from kitchen to dining room through the living room and hallway and back to the kitchen. Remus often discourages this, but he doesn't now. He watches, laughing, as boy and dog run laps, crashing into furniture, sliding across the floor on rugs. He looks at the dog and thinks, Oh, there you are.
Padfoot tires first, collapsing on the rug by the dining room table and ducking his head while Harry tries to get him up again. Remus steps in.
"I think he's tired, love," he says. "It's nearly dinner time, anyway, can you go wash up?"
Harry leaves, dragging his feet. Instead of going to actually make said dinner, Remus sits on the floor by Padfoot's head. He blinks and Sirius is there instead, rolling on his back. He's clearly winded, but he smiles at Remus, a genuine, relaxed smile. The clouds gather back quickly, Sirius' frowns and looks away, but Remus is delighted to have seen that expression at all, and is aware of the smile on his own face.
"How's that arm?" he asks.
"Fine," Sirius says, holding it up and briefly displaying his unmarked forearm. "Misjudged a jump, caught it on a rock."
"Mm. Are you hungry?"
"Yes, actually."
"How's grilled chicken sound?"
"Fine."
"Can you help with the salad?"
He doesn't really mean to say it. He doesn't want Sirius to feel like he needs to do anything here. But-
"Yes," Sirius says so quickly it's clear he's been waiting to be invited to help. Remus' sees suddenly how his life might look to Sirius. He has been a single parent for four years now, he is accustomed to doing everything on his own. He wants to take care of Sirius, too, but at the same time he knows the awkwardness of being a long-term house guest. It can be easier to be around if you have something to do.
"Great," he says. "Thanks."
Sirius shrugs and goes quiet again and makes a very mediocre salad that Remus tells him is the best he's had in years.
The next day, Harry goes out to the zoo with Remus' mum. Remus settles into some research and Sirius reads the Daily Prophet at the kitchen table. It's quiet but in a companionable way. Padfoot has helped Harry past any lingering shyness with Sirius; he was begging him to turn and chase him before he headed out, and Sirius had obliged. It seems to have made Sirius a little easier around them both.
They are both startled by the owl that knocks on the kitchen window shortly before lunch. Remus lets it in and is even more surprised when it flies past him to Sirius. It is a decidedly brusque bird, squawking irritably as Sirius undoes the thick envelope and small coin purse tied to its leg.
As the owl flies off, Remus recognizes the stamp on the bag.
"You wrote Gringotts?" he asks.
Sirius shrugs and sets the pouch aside as he opens the letter. "You mentioned going to Ollivander's," Sirius reminds him. "I didn't feel like going to the bank, so I just requested… huh…"
"What?" Remus asks when Sirius just stares at the letter.
Sirius frowns a little and looks up at him.
"Uh… are my parents dead?"
"Oh," Remus gasps slightly, stunned by his own oversight. "Uh. I'm sorry - I can't believe I didn't think to tell you that."
"So - yes?"
"Yes. I'm…"
Sirius looks up at him, raising an eyebrow, questioning the automatic condolences.
"...sorry you missed the chance to mess with their funerals?" Remus finishes.
Sirius makes a noise that might be agreement, shrugs, and looks at the letter again. Remus watches him, feeling fresh loathing for Orion and Walburga Black.
Sirius' reaction to this news is decidedly abnormal, but maybe given the situation, it's not unreasonable. Sirius' parents were terrible to him and Regulus. The handful of times Remus saw Sirius cry in school (or ever) were over his family. They'd been physically abusive and deeply manipulative. They'd tied Sirius up in knots of self loathing because he could never quite shake a desire for their approval. Remus had always thought they were terrible people, but he finds them monstrous now that he has his own child and a better understanding of just how much Sirius was at their mercy. He feels like Sirius deserved some closure, which is now out of reach, but is glad Sirius doesn't have to deal with them now.
"He died in '82, I think," Remus says. "Of course he'd been ill for a while at that point. She passed maybe last fall? I heard she had a bout of dragon pox and just didn't recover."
"Hm," Sirius says, not visibly reacting. He turns the letter he's been reading and slides it across the table to Remus. "I just… I thought they disowned me, but maybe blasting me off that fucking tapestry wasn't legally binding."
Remus looks it over. It's not a letter, it's a bank statement. The balance displays an amount of gold that Remus thinks should probably be illegal for one family to possess. He is sure it exceeds the GDP of several not-so-small countries.
"Ah," Remus responds eloquently. "Well, that's…"
"...dirty money," Sirius finishes bitterly. "That's… jacking up rent and forcing evictions and fucking shady trading and nasty black market shit."
Remus winces. They have never seen money the same way. Sirius, who grew up with too much, sees it as family obligations. When they were younger, he always voiced disinterest in it while also spending it rather freely, unconcerned about the contradiction in a way only the extremely wealthy can manage. Remus, who grew up with too little, sees it as security and can barely spend it at all.
"You don't have to figure it out right now," Remus says. "And maybe there's a way to… right some of that. In the meantime you could certainly, you know, get a wand. That sort of thing."
He is pulling Sirius back to practical next steps because he knows how Sirius' anxiety works. Sirius is probably already imagining himself at 50, cloistered away by his money like his parents were. Sirius blinks, looks at him, cocks his head thoughtfully to the side.
"What?" prompts Remus.
"Do you want a new house, or something?"
"What?"
"That's what you went straight to?" Remus says, grinning. "I vaguely suggest disrespecting your parents wishes, and you go to 'let's pour this pure blood wealth into a werewolf?'"
Sirius laughs, actually laughs, that short burst with his head dropped back.
"Apparently," Sirius says, smirking. "This is why people befriend Blacks, Lupin."
There's a teasing light in Sirius' eyes and it's making Remus' heart pound. Maybe he's blushing, too, because Sirius suddenly looks uncertain and breaks eye contact.
"I do mean it," he says more quietly. "Can I help somehow?"
Remus pauses before answering, takes a breath.
"We're really alright," he says. "I mean, I don't… I don't make much, but there's a trust set up for Harry that I have access to. I've set aside a lot of it, obviously, for school and so he has a bit to set himself up when he's of age, but I can use it for things that are in his interest. Like… you know. I fixed up the house a bit, we've taken a few trips, that sort of thing."
"Trips?"
"Well, I figure they would have been off like, on holiday in France, that sort of thing," Remus says, shrugging. He has never had to justify his spending of Lily and James' money to someone who actually knew them, he feels suddenly self-conscious. "I can't always take the time to do that sort of thing, or there's, eh, places I can't go," he mutters, waving his hand to dismiss localities that ban werewolves. "But we go to the shore, the country, that sort of thing."
Sirius frowns. "I'm sure they'd be fine with France," he says. "That's not exactly extravagant. Wouldn't he like that forest there? What's it… the one that Newt guy wrote up."
Remus is mildly stunned Sirius has even alluded to James and Lily. It is also a very accurate understanding of Harry's interests - he would love to explore the Brocéliande.
"Maybe when Harry's old enough to have a more informed opinion, we can do that sort of thing," Remus says. "But in the meantime… It's just not my money. I don't feel like I can justify it."
Sirius nods toward the bank statement on the table. "Spend mine instead. Go to France. Do whatever you want."
The amount and variety of implications that go with that offer ties Remus' tongue up. He wants the security Sirius is offering, but he also doesn't want Sirius to feel used for his money, to feel like he has nothing else to give. He does want Sirius to say he will be on this imaginary trip. There is a very silly part of his brain practically swooning at the thought of the two of them and Harry on holiday in southern France.
"Let me help," Sirius says.
Remus' narrows his focus back to the practical.
"You could certainly get him a birthday present," he says because it's simpler and because it replaces the uncertainty in Sirius' eyes with a soft happiness.
"Oh, yeah, okay," Sirius says, sitting up a little straighter. "What does he want?"
"He's turning six, he'd be happy with anything," Remus says. "There's a new board game he's been eyeing and I was gonna get him some books and-"
"Of course you were," Sirius interrupts, smirking. "What does he actually want? What wouldn't you spend his money on?"
Remus knows the answer immediately. Harry has been pining over this particular item for months. "Ehm…"
Sirius must see he's holding something back. "What? What is it?" he asks eagerly.
"Oh there's this… absurdly fancy training broom he saw in Diagon Alley."
"Yes! Done."
"It-wait, he has a perfectly good one already. Though," he admits, "I suppose it's a little small..."
Sirius grins. "Great. Could get him two, then Ron or Luna could play, too. Do they make kid versions of quidditch kits? They must."
"Sirius, one broom is more than-"
"Moony. Let me do this."
Remus' heart reacts to the combination of that nickname and the mischievous glint in Sirius' eyes by momentarily stopping. He feels like someone's looking at him properly for the first time in five years. It's achingly wonderful and he doesn't understand how he's managed so long without it.
"Okay," he says a little breathlessly.
Sirius' gaze slides away again. He fusses with the papers in front of him, the coins clink in the little purse. Remus turns back to his research, willing away the warmth he can feel in his cheeks and trying not to get ahead of himself.
Remus' own experience with mourning has taught him it isn't linear. Some days are better than others, some entire years feel like steady improvement and then he hears Frank and Alice have made no improvements and he comes completely undone. Grieving has been a process of learning to live in a new world and it hasn't always felt like healing. He has had to accept that sometimes there is nothing he can do about it except remember that there's another day coming tomorrow, and that day might be better. So that night, when Harry wakes him up, Remus is not surprised to hear Sirius crying out in his sleep. He focuses on Harry first. Harry is at his side, shaking his arm with some urgency, which makes Remus think he was hard to wake up.
"Moony!"
"It's okay," Remus says, mind a little fuzzy. He reaches for his wand and lights the lamp on his bedside table.
It definitely doesn't sound okay. Sirius' cries are muffled by the walls between them, but he sounds terrified. Harry's green eyes are huge and keep darting toward the door. He's climbing up onto the bed before Remus has properly sat up. He wraps his skinny arms around Remus' neck and hides his face against his shoulder.
It feels dismissive, but Remus can't think what else to do, so he waves a muffling spell at the walls separating his room from Sirius'. The shouts are quieted immediately.
"It's okay," Remus says again, more firmly. He sits up, shifts Harry in his arms to hug him better. "Sirius is just having a bad dream."
Harry understands bad dreams, he fairly often has spells of a couple days where he ends up sleeping on Remus' floor. Harry sits up a little and looks toward the door again. When he was four, he mentioned one bad dream that ended with a flash of green light and it was all Remus could do to offer comfort instead of crying himself. Guilt bubbles up in Remus. He shouldn't be exposing this kid to more tragedy. In the same moment, he pictures James' face if he suggested Sirius needed to leave.
"It sounds bad," Harry says.
"I think it probably is, love," Remus says quietly. "But he'll be okay. Dreams can't hurt us."
"Should we wake him up?"
"I think I probably should, yeah," Remus says. "How do you feel about that? Do you want to stay in here?"
Harry nods.
"I promise I'll be right back."
"Okay."
Harry's voice is little and uncertain, so Remus stays and cuddles him a little longer. Remus' heart is rattling around his chest, but he murmurs reassurances until Harry falls asleep. Remus' eases him down into the nest of blankets and pillows by his bedside table that he set up for this exact purpose.
It can't have been more than a few minutes since Harry woke him up, but Remus knows as though through a sixth sense, that for Sirius it must feel like an eternity. He hurries out of the room and down the hall. He opens and closes Sirius' bedroom door quickly, trying to keep the sound inside.
Sirius' bed is by the windows. He hasn't closed the blinds, so there's some moonlight falling on him. He's badly tangled up in the sheets and his shouts have changed to pleading whimpers that immediately put a lump in Remus' throat. He crosses the room, waving on a lamp as he goes, and drops to his knees on the floor, level with Sirius' head.
"Sirius? Sirius, wake up. It's alright, you're dreaming…"
Sirius doesn't appear to hear him, so Remus touches his shoulder. Sirius' eyes fly open, dark and wild, with no hint of recognition. He shoves Remus away, hard.
Remus falls backward, slamming against the nightstand. The lamp on top of it falls and smashes against the floor, going dark.
"It's me!" Remus shouts, startled. "Fuck, it's just me, Sirius!"
"Sorry," Sirius gasps. "Sorry…"
Remus scrambles to his feet. Sirius is kicking away the offending, twisted sheets and trying to sit. He gives up, collapsing back on the pillows, puts both hands over his face. Remus stays on his feet.
"Sorry," Sirius says again. His breathing is still ragged. "I woke you up? Shit. I'm sorry…"
Remus presses his hand over his own face, rubs at the bridge of his nose. He's quiet long enough to draw a deep breath, trying to reign in the defensive adrenaline spike Sirius' push set off. Clearly combat instincts won in a war at age 19 are hard to shake, for both of them, and Remus has at least been allowed some time to cool his. He wonders again how long ago that all seems to Sirius. He suspects the answer is not very long ago at all.
"Can I sit down?" he asks finally, indicating the foot of Sirius' bed.
"Go," Sirius says instead. "I'm fine."
Remus suddenly feels exhausted. "Really? I'm not."
That at least gets Sirius to look at him. His face is pale and his brows are drawn together in a wary scowl.
"Sirius, it's… of course I'm not fine," Remus says shakily. He's gambling that if he forces himself to show some vulnerability, maybe Sirius will respond in kind. "Sirius, I-this has all been… I feel like you think I know what I'm doing and I don't."
That is in no way adequate, but at least Sirius is still looking at him.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Remus repeats. "Like… with anything. I never know if I'm doing the right thing by Harry, or I - I know you're - I… I know you need time, I just…"
Sirius turns away.
"Sirius, I don't know how to help you if you won't actually talk to me," Remus says, voice finally breaking.
"We talk," Sirius says.
"You know what I mean."
Sirius rolls completely away from him, curling in on himself. Remus' steps forward to take that seat at the end of the bed, but then he hears a small noise. The silencing charm he cast only works in one direction, and he can hear Harry calling for him. He's awakened in the empty room and sounds scared.
"Go," Sirius says quietly. The fight's gone out of his voice, he just sounds tired and sad.
Remus retreats to the door. He hesitates just long enough for more words to spill out of him.
"I should have already said this, I'm sorry," he nearly whispers. "I know this is complicated, but I'm so glad you're here."
Sirius lets a breath out like he's been holding it, and Remus makes himself leave.