Notes: So, Deathly Hallows is finally here! This story...has nothing at all to do with Book 7. I thought updating it would be a refreshing change from the last 48 hours or so.
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Remus knows, just as Sirius does, that it's different now than when it was just the two of them. They don't live alone in their own flat now, oblivious to the world for days and weeks at time. People pass through the house day and night, and you never know who knows and who doesn't, who will accept it, and who won't. Remus doesn't like keeping secrets, but he's used to it, long used to it by now, and sometimes he forgets his feelings altogether and just is.
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March, 1981
Remus had never thought of them—any of them, any of the Marauders—as future husbands or fathers. Yet, despite this, he wasn't much surprised when James and Lily got engaged, and he had felt an almost comforting feeling of inevitability when they got married. When Harry was born, he didn't feel much of anything at all. Seeing a person so new and untainted and ready to do anything—his mind spun in circles in a way he'd never known it to do before.
Sirius didn't have a great fondness for children, but he never told Lily this, and he didn't have to tell James. It was easy for new parents to forget. And of course Sirius Black would do anything for James Potter. It was unspoken; it was just how things were.
Remus sank slowly down into the couch cushions. Never had something so old and creaky and filled with rusted springs felt so good. Slowly, he uncurled the tense muscles of his body, and, even more slowly still, rested his head against the back of the couch. He could see the ceiling, which was white and uninteresting and easy to his eyes. He felt a depression on the other end of the couch and—"Hullo Sirius," he said.
"He's asleep," Sirius answered.
"I know."
"I think I'm more tired now than before."
"That's because now you don't have anything to distract you from your horrible…debilitating…fatigue."
Sometime during their short exchange, Remus had closed his eyes. His other senses picked up Sirius's shifting; the low, tired sounds that issued from his throat; and even the way he rubbed his eyes.
"I'm telling you," Sirius said, pulling his feet up after him, resting the heavy weight of his head on Remus's shoulder, "I'm never doing that again."
"Yes, you will," Remus answered, too exhausted for lies, too easily slipping into candid, tired truth. "You will because Harry's going to need adults around for another eighteen years, and because James and Lily are our friends, and because whatever he asks you, you can't refuse."
"I refused when he begged me to sleep with him. He said I want your sexy body, Padfoot, and I said Shove off Potter. I'm with Remus now."
"That never happened."
"No. It didn't."
Another few minutes of silence passed. Sirius's breath played against Remus's neck. He realized almost sadly that he was twenty-one years old.
"Sometimes I hate them just little bit." Sirius's voice was not quite a whisper, but it was soft and quiet, and very close, just the same.
"Hate who? James and Lily?"
"It would have been easier if—"
"If a lot of things. It would have been easier if a lot of things."
Sirius's arms snaked around Remus, right in the middle of him, latching on, and he didn't answer, only breathed. Remus refused to open his eyes, but he knew just what Sirius looked like. His face had a far off expression and his eyes were looking inwards on himself.
"I'm glad that we can't," he said finally.
"Can't what?"
"Have kids."
Dammit Sirius. Remus closed his eyes tightly, relaxed slowly, took a few breaths, and found it in himself to speak. "You could always adopt. You would just have to leave me first."
"I don't want to do either of those things. But honestly, Moony—isn't this a good thing, for once, you being a werewolf? Society is never going to pressure you to procreate a bunch of brats."
Sirius wasn't thinking. He had found an idea, and he ran with it. His mouth was going on and his brain had largely stopped functioning at all. Remus knew all this, and he took a few deep breaths to keep from lashing out.
"No. No pressure there. Honestly, Sirius, can we drop it?"
"Oh. Okay. Yeah. Sorry."
"It's all right."
Remus's eyelids fluttered, and he could feel Sirius's grip on him relaxing, then tightening again.
"It's really all right?"
"Dammit, Sirius, yes. Just rest. He could wake up any moment."
When Remus opened his eyes, the flat was quiet and Sirius was gone. He pulled himself up, saw by the clock that he had been asleep for several hours, and walked in a sort of drowsy haze into the other room. He almost smiled when he saw Harry, still sleeping, with a great black dog on the floor not five feet away, his nose buried in his paws.
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end part 3/10