Title: Settled
Author: Gypsy Lupin-Black
Rating: PG
Summary: Sirius and Remus, 82 years after the war has ended...
A/N: So the year is 2080, and 'm pretty sure I've gotten all the math right. This hasn't been beta'd yet, and if someone feels like helping me out, it would be much appreciated. This is only part 1, and I'll post part 2 if people seem interested...

Oh, and this was written in March while I was on THE WORST trip of my life. It's been on in the remusxsirius group since March, but I've finally gotten around to posting it here, see if it doesn't do any better…

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"Oh, bugger it all to hell and back!" Sirius threw a leather glove at the old motorbike that stood in front of him. Remus, who was sitting on the porch, amusedly watching his lover over the top of a book, laughed. Sirius turned and fixed him with a withering stare. "What, pray tell, do you think is so funny?" Remus just shook his head and picked up the book again. Sirius watched him for a moment, just to make sure he wasn't going to peek over the top again. Remus' hair was completely white now. Not that that was much of a surprise. It had been eighty-two years since the war with Voldemort ended. Harry would be celebrating his one-hundredth birthday in a few days.

Sirius shook his head. Harry, a hundred years old. If nothing else made the animagus feel his age, his godson turning one hundred did. Harry had married Ginny Weasley when he was twenty-five, and they'd had four beautiful children (the last two had been twins, in true Weasley fashion). Said twins had graduated Hogwarts forty-seven years ago. His kids had kids of their own. They came to visit a lot, but Sirius just thought it was a shame that James didn't get to see his son grow up or meet his grandchildren.

But that was all far in the past now. Now, there was just Remus on the porch of their Hogsmeade home, and a mournful old motorbike standing in the drive. Taunting him. Sirius glared at his beloved Black Bitch, which hadn't flown since the final battle against Voldemort, and hadn't even rolled down the drive in over a decade. Sirius sighed. Everything they had, they'd gotten many years ago. Their entire life was history. Remus still played his old swing records in his study. Sirius still listened to Queen on a Walkman. Even the very house they lived in had stood since 1971-granted, it had been refurbished when they'd decided to move into it.

Now, Sirius was one hundred and twenty years old. Remus would be one hundred and twenty one soon, and the majority of what they did with their time was sit in rocking chairs on the porch and stare out at the bustling village. And the accusing motorbike in the drive. Sirius had finally gotten fed up with looking at it, just standing there, dead in the drive. He'd taken it into his head to fix it, even if it killed him. When he'd told this to his lover, Remus had just sighed and turned the page of his book.

For the moment, the bike had won, Sirius decided. He'd come back to it later. Remus gave him another Look as Sirius climbed the three stairs onto their porch and sat down in the other chair. "Taking a break?"

Sirius glared at the motorbike and nodded. A stray breeze pushed some strands of white hair into his eye, but he ignored it. Hair had been blowing into his eyes his entire life, since he never cut it short enough that it wouldn't. Getting old didn't change that. Remus watched him for a moment more, then went back to the book. Sirius glanced at him, then back out toward the blur that was town. "What are you reading, anyway?"

"Oh, just a history of the War." Remus turned the page.

"Yeah? What part?" Sirius pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket. When he put them on, he the blur sharpened and he could actually make out the individual buildings.

"The end. Right after Dumbledore died. Harry and Neville's final fight with Voldemort. I'm almost to your trial."

"So you've already passed the part where I came back then." He saw Remus smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes."

Sirius shook his head. "And to think, we have Voldemort to thank for that." He heard Remus chuckle.

"The only good thing he ever did."

"Watch out, you'll have him rolling in his metaphorical grave." Sirius turned and grinned at the other man. "So what's it say about my trial?"

"I'm not there yet!" Remus' eyes flicked up to look at him over his reading glasses. "However, I would expect that they talk about Peter's capture, the decision to reopen the case, the reviewing of the evidence, the interrogations under Veritaserum, the deliberations and final judgment. Oh, and the attempt to repay damages." Remus was looking at the porch roof as he finished.

"And then Peter's sentence." Sirius quietly added.

"The Kiss." Remus was still looking at the roof. The two sat like that, in silence, thinking about Peter's last moments. Finally, Remus closed the book with a snap and stood up. He stretched and then turned to go inside. "Something to drink, Sirius?"

"Mmm? Oh." Sirius stood and followed his lover into the house. "Sure, why not."

"They're probably foreigners with ways different than our own. They may do some more... folk dancing."

Remus groaned and rolled his eyes. Sirius never tired of Rocky Horror Picture Show. He could here him singing along with the personal CD player Harry had gotten him years earlier.

"I'm just a sweet transvestite--"

Remus walked to the door of the kitchen. Sirius was making a sandwich for himself, something involving pineapple and peanut butter and-- was that his chocolate sauce! "SIRIUS!"

"From Transsexual.. Transylvania--" Sirius hadn't heard him. "Why don't you stay for the night... and maybe.. a bite--"

Remus walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Sirius turned and grinned at him. "Sirius, that's my chocolate--"

"I could show you my favorite.. Obsession." The animagus pulled Remus into his arms and kissed him. Remus took the opportunity to pull off Sirius' headphones.

"Sirius, you're using my chocolate sauce."

Sirius laughed. "Want some?" He offered his sandwich to Remus. The bread was nearly soggy with pineapple juice. While he knew it would be good-- anything Sirius made turned out tasting wonderful, even if you saw what he put in it-- Remus declined the offering. "No? Okay..." Sirius took a bite.

Remus left him there in the kitchen, his headphones around his neck still blaring the end of Sweet Transvestite. Some one had told Sirius earlier that year that he should act his age. Sirius had laughed the poor woman right out of Honeydukes.

"Sirius, you have a letter!" Remus called sometime later. The owl settled on the antenna of the old television in Sirius' den.

There was no answer from Sirius. Remus called out again, but there was no reply. The werewolf poked his head out the front door and called. Again, no answer. Wondering what mischief his lover was getting himself into this time, Remus settled down in his porch chair to wait for him.

Today was Peter's birthday. Sirius was in London. He only vanished on Remus once a year, and always on this particular day, though he didn't think Remus had noticed that yet. Sirius went, once a year, to visit Peter. He didn't even know why he did it. It wasn't like Peter could care. It wasn't like he even deserved the visit. Sirius couldn't really explain it. Some part of him still thought of Peter as their school friend. Part of him still remembered that Peter had been the one to calm James down when the two had walked in on Sirius and Remus snogging the first time. Even after all that had happened since they left Hogwarts, after all that Peter had done to them, Sirius still felt compelled to come and see him.

Very few people actually knew what happened to people after they received the Dementor's Kiss. Few ever really thought about it. Those who received the Kiss didn't die from it. They lived the rest of their lives in what muggles would call a vegetative state. They still had all the normal bodily functions, but there was no consciousness behind their eyes. They had to be cared for the rest of their lives.

Sirius stopped in front of a short, squat, old brick building. The windows were all boarded up and there was a large CONDEMNED sign on the front doors. Sirius walked around to the rear of the building and knocked on a small back door. The door opened silently and the animagus ducked inside. As soon as the door was shut, the lights came up, and Sirius walked down the corridor, not paying any attention to the squib behind the reception desk. He knew where he was going.

The nurse on Peter's floor looked up when Sirius pushed open the doors. Seeing who it was, she smiled. "Hello, Sirius. We just finished bathing him, so he's ready to see you."

"Thanks." Sirius nodded to her and opened the door to room 298. Peter's room for the last eighty-one years. Sirius shut the door behind him and turned to look at his former friend. Peter was lying in his bed, facing the ceiling. His receding white hair was neatly trimmed, and his blue eyes stared unblinkingly upwards. Peter's eyes always gave Sirius the creeps.

"Hey, Peter." Sirius walked over to the side of the bed and sat down in a chair. "So you're one hundred and twenty-one now." Sirius looked at the bedside table, and seeing an eyedropper there, he picked it up and unscrewed the cap. "I expect you'll be needing this." He dripped the moisturizer onto Peter's eyes, first the left, then the right. Peter blinked once, breathed, in and out, and the sound of his breaths was for a while the only sound in the small room.

A while later, Sirius put drops in Peter's eyes again, and again, he blinked. Reflex. Everything was just reflex now. Sirius watched him lay there, just breathing. They spelled his eyes shut at night. Sirius shivered, thinking about how close he himself had come to suffering Peter's fate. Did anyone really deserve this? Sirius reached out and touched Peter's still hand. It was cold. The animagus got up and went over to a small closet. He pulled out another blanket and spread it over Peter, then took his seat again.

Sirius was giving him more eye drops when the nurse came in with a potion. Peter's daily meal. Swallowing was a reflex, just like blinking. Sirius looked up when the nurse came in. "I'll give it to him."

"Okay." the woman handed him the potion and a towel, then left.

Sirius set the potion down on the table, trying not to catch a whiff of it. The things smelt horrible, and probably tasted worse. It was a good thing that these guys didn't care. Still. The animagus hit the lever that would make the bed curl into more of a sitting position. When Peter was set, Sirius poured the potion out of the glass it was in into a squeeze bottle. Opening Peter's mouth, he squeezed out a few drops and waited for Peter to swallow. It took a few moments, but he did. Only a few drops at a time. It would be bad to overwhelm the throat. The last thing they wanted was some getting into their lungs. Peter couldn't really cough.

A quarter way through the bottle, Sirius took a break to let his arm rest. He looked over at Peter again and noticed that he was salivating a little. "Ah, Pete, you're drooling, mate." Sirius used the towel and wiped his chin.

The silence was suddenly a bit too much for Sirius. As he raised the bottle to continue feeding his old friend, he spoke. "So, Wormtail, what have you been up to lately? See, at least here you get steady action from the girls... well, if you can call the bathing steady action..." Sirius didn't want to think about how helpless people here were. He changed the subject. "What have I been doing this last year? Well, In March I turned one hundred twenty, but you knew that. April Fools Day was the Weasley twin's birthday. Remus and I went to the Burrow--Harry and Ginny are still living there, remember-- and we did the collective birthday party for Fred and George and Sylvia and Jordan--Harry and Ginny's twins, remember. May was Gypsy's fifty-sixth birthday, so we went to see her and Killian. Remember, Gypsy is my grandniece. Anyway, she and Killian have a real nice place outside of Dublin. Their kids were there too. Uhh.. It's almost Harry's birthday, so it'll be back to the Burrow then." Sirius stopped talking and took another break with the bottle. He cleaned up the dribbles and then sat, looking out Peter's 'window' (actually just a spelled bit of wall), the towel wadded up in his hands.

A/N: I know it stops fast here, but I'll do more if there's intrest. And I donno about the whole swallowing thing, but just go with it, please?