Sirius POV
Sirius awakens sometime later to afternoon light in his face and Remus' fingers tangled in his hair. His cheek is against Remus' chest, which is rising and falling evenly. They are sprawled out on the couch. Some long dormant part of Sirius' mind checks all of these things off as ideal, and tells him to go back to sleep before he does something to ruin it. A more responsible voice - it is remarkably like Remus' voice (the real one, not the furious one who's inhabited his mind for so long) - reminds him that Harry needs to be picked up at 3, and it might be getting close to that. When he turns his head to see the clock, there's still almost an hour left, so he relaxes again.
He feels exhausted but also lighter, as though the tears he'd shed had a physical weight to them. He feels raw and hollowed out but he's relieved the weight is gone. He had not realized how much energy he'd been putting into not falling apart until he stopped resisting.
His small movements have awakened Remus. The hand on Sirius' head moves gently, combing through Sirius' hair. Either Sirius or Padfoot makes a small, approving sound. Don't stop doing that. He feels more than hears Remus' sniff of amusement.
A memory comes dancing back in full color. Instead of fleeing this memory like he usually does, he stays still and watches it unfold. It strikes him as a sort of miracle when it stays clear instead of congealing and darkening, as though along with the tears, he's managed to shake off the dark, twisted versions of his friends that have been haunting him for years.
In this memory he's 17, it was the end of 6th year and the last full moon of the semester had been particularly tough on Remus for whatever reason. Sirius had found himself unable to leave the infirmary when he should. He lingered, helping Remus with homework, and just talking because if he said enough interesting things, Remus' jaw would relax. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have, because he didn't wake up until James showed up in the morning.
They hadn't done anything. They'd never done anything. Sirius was still technically in the hard little chair beside the bed, but he'd fallen asleep flung forward across the bed. Remus was curled toward him, one hand loosely around Sirius' left wrist. Sirius only woke up when James said his name. He sat up immediately, too fast to look innocent, though he didn't think he was hiding anything.
"Pads..," James said slowly as Sirius straightened himself out. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Sirius says. They were both whispering, not wanting to wake Remus. "I fell asleep."
"Uh huh."
Sirius grabbed up his book bag and followed James away, down the central corridor. "What?" he demanded.
James watched him, something curious and expectant in his expression. Sirius frowned back at him.
"Oh, come on, Sirius."
Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly wasn't sure what was true. And of what was true, he wasn't ready to say any of it aloud.
"Whatever, mate," James finally said, cheerfully. He'd dropped it and then been incredibly smug when he caught them kissing six months later. Sirius now lays still and sympathizes with his 17-year-old self. He feels similarly unsure of what Remus is thinking.
His mind, the last few days, has registered Remus' tentative glances. He's seen him blush a few times. But there's been a blankness inside Sirius, like he can't compute how to react. It is ridiculous to think that Remus is still interested in him like that, after all this time and everything that went wrong between them. (There's another thought that Sirius knows is vain but can't stop - he can't stand the way he looks. He doesn't recognize the old, ravaged face he sees in the mirror.) For the last five years, he has wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his own skin and be anyone other than Sirius Black.
But Remus is playing with his hair. Remus has been holding him for hours. Virtually no one has touched Sirius in years, and those who have were restraining or hurting him. This gentle, chaste contact is mildly intoxicating.
Sirius knows Remus isn't like this with just anyone. So even if he isn't entirely happy being himself right now, he's at least content to be someone Remus will hold like this.
Remus POV
Remus arrives at the Weasleys' gate feeling disjointed. He's only just disentangled himself from the couch and Sirius, who'd gone quiet and slightly shy once they'd straightened up. He'd looked calm but exhausted, and rather grateful when Remus suggested he might want to go lay down, rather than be social with Harry when Remus brought him back. Remus had hurried out before there was a chance to talk about anything more.
Remus shakes his head a little, trying to wake up, and walks up the front path.
"Moony!"
Remus follows Harry's voice and scent around the back of the house to the rambling garden. Harry grins at him from a perch halfway up the ancient apple tree that grows just behind the kitchen. Skinny, freckled Ron is there, too, several branches lower than Harry. The twins are sitting on the ground, pulling apart a watermelon with their hands and eating it by the fistful. One of them - Fred, he thinks - has half the rind on his head like a helmet, there's juice dripping down his forehead.
Remus stops a few paces from the tree, sitting back against a picnic table, watching as Harry and Ron clamber through the branches, not wanting to end their fun just yet. The contrast between the two has always been mildly entertaining - Harry is compact and agile (Remus suspects he will grow into James' easy athleticism) where Ron, even at six, is all elbows and knees. Ron is big-hearted, always seeking out a hug, and can swing fairly quickly from a pout to pure joy, where Harry is more cautious, watchful and shy. Between them, they generally strike a nice balance.
"Look at you!" Remus calls up as Harry gains another branch. Harry beams at the approval.
"Hiya, Remus," George says around a mouthful of watermelon.
"Hello, boys. New safety gear, is it?" he asks, nodding at Fred's helmet.
Fred nods solemnly and doesn't blink when George tosses a dried out old crab apple at his head. It neatly bounces off into the grass.
"Ah," Remus says. "Effective."
"Does Harry have to go already?" Ron asks, frowning.
"Afraid so. Come on, love."
Harry bounces his way back down the tree, as sure footed as if he was running across the lawn. Remus is just barely prepared for it when Harry launches himself off the last branch and into Remus' arms. Remus' back protests but he doesn't let it show. Harry squeals with delight as Remus swings him to the ground.
A few minutes later, having gathered Harry's things and said goodbye to Molly, they walk back through the gate. After a brief discussion, they opt to walk home. Harry doesn't particularly like apparating and Remus decides the half hour walk will do them both good. It's a pleasant walk this time of year, down quiet country roads alongside old, rolling fields dotted with wildflowers.
"Are you getting excited for your party?" Remus asks, shouldering Harry's small bag.
Harry nods. His birthday is in six days. Molly has offered to host so that the party can involve a jump in the swimming hole. Harry frowns, clearly in thought, and Remus gives him a moment.
"Um…"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Is Padfoot coming? To the party?"
"Oh. We'll have to ask him. Would you like him to?"
"Yes," Harry says simply.
"We'll ask him then," Remus says. "Though… Harry, do you mean Padfoot the dog or Sirius?"
Harry frowns in obvious confusion and looks to Remus for clarification.
"Is it okay if Sirius comes as himself?" Remus asks uncertainly. "We should invite him as himself first."
"But they're… one person?" Harry says. He's starting to look distressed and Remus thinks they are misunderstanding each other, but he's not sure how.
"It's okay, love," he says evenly. "I'm sorry, I'm not making myself clear. Of course they're one person... I was just a little confused because you called him Padfoot."
"I call you Moony," Harry says worriedly, as though he's afraid he did something wrong.
Remus' heart wobbles at this suggestion that Harry might be sorting Sirius into the same category as Remus, of adults he trusts and likes enough to call strange nicknames.
"Yes, and I like that very much," Remus says. "I'm sorry I confused you."
"'S okay," Harry says, shrugging and smiling a little. "Will he wanna come?"
Remus isn't entirely sure. He also thinks it's very possible Sirius will cry if this little black-haired boy calls him Padfoot to his face unexpectedly, but Remus isn't going to tell Harry not to do it. He'll have to give Sirius a heads up.
"I don't know," Remus says honestly. "We'll have to ask and see. I'm not sure he's ready to be around a ton of people yet. But I know he's excited about your birthday. Maybe the three of us can have a little party at home, if he can't go to the big one."
"I can have two parties?" Harry asks, delighted.
"Of course! Six is a big deal."
Harry grins and spends the rest of the walk home happily discussing party details and darting back and forth across the lane. By the time they get home, Remus is sure Harry has covered twice the distance he has.
The house is quiet, Sirius apparently asleep upstairs. Remus immerses himself in Harry's world for the afternoon, listening to tales about Ron and the twins, answering questions about owl types - pets continue to be a source of fascination since Charlie briefly had his rat. The time through dinner passes, pleasantly mundane.
Later in the evening, Remus can hear Sirius shifting around upstairs, each time making Remus' heart jump, but he doesn't reappear. Remus doesn't know what to expect from Sirius now so he chooses not to think about it yet, and turns his attention to Harry's debate about the merits of cats versus toads.