"Remus!"
At the sound of his name, a tall, freckled boy poked his head in through the door and smiled pleasantly up at his mother. "What, Mum?"
Upon seeing her son, the hard lines that creased the face of the quiet Mrs. Lupin since the death of her husband a few months ago eased a little, and she walked over to hug her son tightly. He hugged her back for a moment, before ducking out of her grasp and shooting an anxious look outside. The woman sighed, and then tucked a few loose wispy hairs back behind her ears.
"Are you all set to go?" she asked, causing Remus to turn his head back around and look at her again. "You need to get the last of the vegetables to the market before it closes."
Her son nodded. "Don't worry, Mum. Sirius and I've got it covered." he started to edge out of the door, itching to get back into the beckoning lovely summer day.
Still anxious, she called out, "You'll be careful driving, won't you?" Remus just smiled at her, and said, "I love you, Mum," before walking out the door and getting into the old truck.
Since the death of Remus's father, just barely a few months before, Mary Lupin had become a very tired, sad creature. Whenever Remus was home, he always tried to make his mother smile again, even if it was just by doing small chores like taking the handful of vegetables they grew to the farmer's market. And, of course, the appealing added benefit of alone time with Sirius was more than enough incentive by itself.
At the thought of his boyfriend, Remus had to smile widely and happily, sneaking a glance at the beautiful boy who sat next to him. They had been together all through the remainder of fifth year, and the entirety of sixth year, and Remus had never been happier in his whole life. Even when his father had died, Sirius had been there for Remus. Now it was the summer before their last year at Hogwarts, and Sirius had happily been spending all of his lazy summer days at the Lupin's house. Mrs. Lupin was charmed by loud, joyful boy, grateful of the distraction from the otherwise quiet house, and she was even more grateful of the fact that Remus had such a good friend. Of course, thought Remus regretfully, a sick feeling in his stomach, he hadn't yet told his mother just how good of friends they were.
"What're you smiling about?" asked Sirius, breaking Remus out of his thoughts and reminding him that he was still smiling ridiculously.
"You," he replied simply, causing Sirius's face to break into a cocky grin.
Conscious of his mother's eyes and fearful of becoming too intoxicated by Sirius's presence as to inhibit his driving skills, Remus looked away and began backing up the rusted old truck. As impressed by this fascinating muggle act as always, Sirius watched as Remus began to drive up the winding empty country road, handsomely grinning all the while.
As Remus drove, Sirius turned his attention towards the radio. This wasn't his first time in a car, as he and Remus had made more than a few trips in one throughout the summer so far, and he was finally beginning to understand how to work the radio.
Sirius already had a large knowledge of muggle rock bands, as listening loudly to muggle music was one of the things that was guaranteed to annoy his parents. So he switched on the radio, fiddling around for a station that he liked. Remus let him flip from station to station, even when he heard songs that he liked (jazz, mostly, or some country), but when he heard the Beatles he stopped Sirius.
"Don't switch this one," he insisted. To which Sirius raised an eyebrow. "The bloody Beatles?"
Remus kept one eye on the road and the other on Sirius. "Everyone loves the Beatles, Pads. Just admit it."
Sirius grumbled insincerely to himself, but left the station alone. Although the Beatles weren't as big a deal as they had been 10 years ago, no one could forget them and radio stations constantly played them.
Grinning half-crookedly at Sirius, Remus began to sing along with the radio. "Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man. And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your hand."
Sirius just put on expression of martyrdom, but Remus kept at it. "And when I touch you I feel happy, inside. It's such a feeling that my love.. I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide!"
When Remus hit the last notes of the verse rather horribly, Sirius couldn't do much but smile helplessly at him, and then give in to sing with him the ending part of the song. "I want to hold your hand, I want to hold your hand, I want to hold your hand."
The song ended and the radio talk host began to buzz about something in a deep baritone, so Sirius switched down the volume.
"Well," conceded Sirius, "I'll admit the Beatles did get some of it right." And with that he captured one of Remus's hands, leaving him only one to drive with. But Remus didn't mind, and he interlaced his fingers with Sirius's, sighing contently.
Not too long after, one afternoon found them trekking through the Lupin's sprawling countryside property with a picnic basket in tow. It was sunny and pleasantly hot, and after Remus had finished his chores (Sirius attempting to help and really just being somewhat of a hindrance, but that didn't matter) his mother had turned them both out to roam, insisting they get out of the house. They had gladly complied, and now they were wandering through the fields, holding hands. They were far enough from civilization and from the house that their only company was the buzzing bees, although Remus was beginning to wonder if he even cared if anyone saw anymore. It's not like he wanted to go out of his way to tell people – except, of course, his mother, and they still hadn't told James, Peter, or Lily – but he wasn't ashamed to be holding the hand of the person he loved most in the world.
After passing a stream and wading through knee-high grass, they finally found a shady spot around a patch of clover to stop and eat at. Remus got out a blanket and spread it on the ground, and then Sirius started unpacking all of the food.
"Ah, Merlin, your mum's a wonderful cook," groaned Sirius as they began to eat in earnest, hungry after walking for so long.
Remus nodded agreement and then asked, "What about your mum? When you were still living with her, I mean." Sirius had left home the past Christmas, spending the entirety of it with the Potters, and he hadn't even gone home once over the summer holiday – he'd just gone straight to the Lupin's.
Sirius's face darkened a little, and he snorted. "She can't cook for shite. The house elves would usually cook meals for us. I guess I inherited it from her, because I can't cook either." He seemed to find this last part amusing, and laughed blackly.
Wishing he hadn't brought it up, Remus licked the last bit of plum pudding off of his spoon and started on a sandwich. "I can't cook either," he admitted.
"Well, we'll just have to kidnap your mum and keep her around to make meals for us forever." Sirius decided grandly, losing his gloomy humor. "Or Mrs. Potter. She makes the best Sunday lunches."
"That she does," chuckled Remus, having eaten at the Potter's on more than one occasion.
Once they had finished the meal they sat lazily for a while, enjoying each other's company, just talking of everything and nothing and enjoying the sun. It was warm enough outside that they felt drowsy, especially from their meal, but not hot enough to be unbearable. Eventually Sirius rooted around to see what was left in the picnic basket, and then started to laugh. After almost seven years of knowing Remus, he was used to him being a book worm, but this was almost too much.
"Moony, you brought a book?"
Remus smiled. "Of course! I bring one everywhere. Mum does, too, and I'm sure that's where I picked up the habit." He paused, thoughtful. "Mum once told me that she would take books with her when she went on dates, and if she started reading and her date complained, she would know that he wasn't the one. But when she and Dad went on their first date and she started reading, he just happily watched her. She said that's how she knew he was meant for her. He always said he loved watching her read." His smile faded a little, for remembering his father was still painful. Sirius hurried on, hoping to distract Remus.
"Yeah, but I didn't know that everywhere included picnics."
"Picnics are the best place of all for books. Have you no romantic spirit?"
"No."
"Well, a little Shakespeare will fix that."
"A little what?"
"Haven't you ever heard of Shakespeare?"
"Is it a muggle thing?"
"Yes."
"Then no. I've grown up around wizards, remember?"
"But this isn't just some muggle thing! It's Shakespeare!"
Sirius just gave him a quizzical look, smirking indulgently. Remus groaned, and gestured to the book. "My mother would be mortified. Someone staying under her roof and not knowing Shakespeare! We'll have to fix this."
Instead of handing the book over Sirius began to flip through it. "A Winter's Tale," he read out loud.
"It's my favorite one," said Remus. "I've read it a thousand times."
"Mm, I dunno, it's all beaten up. You haven't taken very good care of it," he teased. The book's spine was nearly broken and some of the pages held on to the book purely through sheer willpower.
Remus snatched it from him and held it tight. Then he laughed, examining it. "Maybe I have loved it to pieces."
"I wouldn't mind if you loved me to pieces," deadpanned Sirius, and then he grinned, pulling Sirius nearer to him. They kissed and Remus dropped the book, moving closer to Sirius.
"I love you, d'you know that?" Remus whispered suddenly, pulling back a little from Sirius to see his face. Sirius stopped for a moment, and then began to beam. "Not nearly as much as I love you," argued Sirius.
Remus couldn't stop himself from smiling. "I have to disagree with that."
"Oh yeah?"
And then they were kissing again, more intently this time, and hugging each other tight, and Remus never wanted to let go of this moment, this wonderful beautiful moment.
After their lips were chapped and they were out of breath, they broke apart, sighing happily at each other. Remus picked up the book and then settled himself against Sirius, who was sitting with his back against a tree, leaning his head on top of Sirius's chest.
Remus began to read, his voice soft but full of emotion. He had a good reading voice, one that was meant to read out loud, as well as an ear for the meter; besides, he had read through A Winter's Tale so often that he nearly knew it by heart. Sirius watched Remus as he read, loving the way his lips moved and all of the endearing expressions that flitted fleetingly past his face, feeling that each one was precious to him.
"If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.."
To his surprise, Sirius found that he fiercely loved the play. Sirius had never been one for books, preferring to study only when he had to and instead choosing to do other things for pleasure, but something about the language of Shakespeare tugged on his heart. Perhaps it was Remus's voice, or just the fact that this was Remus's favorite play, but he found himself absorbed in the story, so much so that he nearly forgot to watch Remus. He was so engrossed in the story that when Remus stopped reading, Sirius felt confused for a moment – what had happened? Why had he stopped? – before he realized that Remus was staring up at him.
"I thought you'd fallen asleep, you were so quiet," remarked Remus jokingly. "Sorry if I bored you, Pads."
Sirius shook his head. "No, it was wonderful!" his voice held a note of awe and admiration that Remus had never heard before.
"Has Sirius Black fallen in love with Shakespeare?"
"I think I've fallen in love with its reader."
Even after a year and a half, Sirius still had the ability to make Remus blush. He ducked his head before awkwardly leaned his head up to kiss Sirius. Then Remus sat up and turned to face Sirius, causing Sirius to grumble slightly and try to reach out and imprison Remus.
"No, come back," he pleaded. "And keep reading!"
"I will," he promised. "But I want to read you something else first."
Feeling as though this was acceptable, Sirius dropped his hands and looked up at Remus, trying to pay strict attention but getting distracted by the wonderful freckles that Remus had. But what Remus said next made him forget about the freckles and look over at his boyfriend with all his attention.
"I'm going to tell you a secret," Remus said, and Sirius brightened.
"I love secrets," whispered Sirius facetiously.
"Well, it's not really a secret. Lily knows it already."
"You told Evans something before you told your boyfriend? Lupin!"
"I told her back in second year. It was when we first started talking about muggle books and poetry and stuff like that."
"What's poetry have to do with your secret?"
"That is my secret."
"Moony, I love you" – and this made Remus grin, because he was finding that he loved it when Sirius said those words – "but you tell awful secrets."
Ignoring this statement, Remus pushed on. "More than I love Shakespeare or any other books, I love poetry. More than anything in the world, except you," he added thoughtfully.
Sirius hummed. "Can't say I've ever really read any, but what I have tends to make no bloody sense."
"You just have to read it the right way. And besides, it's more about the feeling that poetry gives you then the understanding. It's the words and the rhythms and the emotion. At the very least, if you can understand Shakespeare, then you should be able to understand Shakespearean sonnets."
"Alright. So let's hear one of these.. whatsists. Sonnet things. By Shakespeare."
"You really want to hear one?"
"If it's something you love," announced Sirius, "then I'm going to love it to. It's been decided."
"Alright. I'll tell you the sonnet that makes me think of you."
Remus paused for a moment, and then recited, eyes closed:
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."
He opened his eyes and looked over at Sirius, who was looking back at him very tenderly. Slightly embarrassed, Remus asked, "What did you think?"
"It's.. lovely, Rem. Does that poem really make you think of me? I'm not sure I'm exactly 'more temperate' than a summer's day," Sirius said softly, humbly.
"Maybe not, but 'Thou art more lovely', for sure."
Now Sirius was the embarrassed one. Changing the subject, he asked, "Did you really memorize that entire poem?"
Nodding, Remus said, "I was a pretty lonely child, with only my books for company. And it helped that my mother is an English teacher, and a bibliophile at that." He realized too late that Sirius probably didn't know what an English teacher was, but just said, "I know more. Want to hear them?"
"Yeah. Especially if they remind you of me," he added teasingly, to which Remus replied honestly, "They all make me think of you."
Sirius didn't know what to say to this, so Remus closed his eyes and spoke another poem.
"From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play."
This one Remus had to repeat a second time for Sirius's look of concentration to bloom into one of comprehension and happiness.
"Was that one Shakespeare, too?" asked Sirius after he had kissed Remus for reading such a wonderful poem.
"Yes, that was the Bard."
"I think he knows more than the Beatles," said Sirius, which caused Remus to chuckle, before Sirius continued, "I like him – Shakespeare, I mean. His works."
"Excellent, my work here is done. Mum'll be pleased."
"You have to read more, though!" administered Sirius adamantly. "I haven't heard nearly enough poems about the lovely Sirius Black yet!"
Remus smirked, but then it softened into a smile. "Me neither. But why don't I read you a poem that isn't Shakespeare? There's lots more poets out there, after all."
"Mm, alright."
"This is by Anne Bradstreet," Remus said, knowing it would mean nothing to Sirius but saying it anyways, "And it reminds me of the way I feel about you."
"So it's not about my ruggedly good looks?"
"Oh, hush," said Remus, but he was smiling. And then –
"If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever."
"'That when we live no more, we may live ever,'" repeated Sirius. "Let's promise that, Rem. That even when we live no more, we may live ever. Together. Everlastingly, we'll be together. Even when we die, we'll wait for each other. Promise?" Sirius had a very serious look on his face.
A little surprised, but nonetheless believing that Sirius wholeheartedly meant this declaration, Remus nodded and reached a hand forward to caress Sirius's cheek.
"I promise."
Satisfied, Sirius let out a huff of air. Feeling the need to lighten the mood, Remus said lightly, "Anyways, I don't think we'll be dying anytime soon."
Sirius just gave him a sad look and said, "You never know. And with something as important as you, I can't be too careful."
Remus leaned forward to hug Sirius and took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful scent that was Sirius. "Forever," he murmured, adjusting himself so he once more was leaning his against Sirius's shoulder, "I'll be here, which in the clover dwell."
"'Which in the clover dwell'?"
"It's another poem," explained Remus. "My favorite one, by my favorite poet."
"Do share,"
"It's by Emily Dickinson."
Composing himself, for to Remus this seemed far more personal, more so than the sonnets or even the Anne Bradstreet poem, Remus recited,
"It's all I have to bring today,
This, and my heart beside,
This and my heart, and all the fields,
And all the meadows wide.
Be sure you count, should I forget-
Some one the sum could tell-
This, and all my heart, and all the bees,
Which in the clover dwell."
Sirius was silent, and Remus looked up at him to find that his eyes were closed. Softly, Remus explained. "This is where I'll always be. Here, with my heart, in the fields, with the bees. The fields which in the clover dwell. Waiting for you."
"I'll come find you," promised Sirius, so softly that Remus almost didn't hear him. And for a while they lay like that, listening to the bees hum and holding each other tightly, never wishing to let go.
Later that night, long after Sirius had gone to sleep and even longer after they had returned home from their picnic, Remus sat having tea with his mother. He had come downstairs to find that she couldn't sleep either, and she had poured him a mug. Remus had always loved his Mum's tea best out of everyone else's.
"You are Sirius were gone for a very long time," Mary Lupin remarked, and Remus was startled out of his quiet thoughts. Was it just paranoia that made her remark seem accusatory to him? "Did you two enjoy yourselves?"
He took a sip of his tea and then nodded. "Yeah. Sirius adores your food, Mum."
His mum smiled, and Remus was filled with a rush of love towards her.
"Mum –" he said suddenly, feeling as though the words couldn't come out quickly enough. "I love him."
She blinked, a little startled, but not really surprised, at what he had said. She had seen the way the two boys looked at each other all summer, had seen how they moved unconsciously around each other, like two parts of the same person. And her son had never been one to say things lightly; he had always known what was true for him, what he wanted and needed.
"And does he love you?"
"Yes," said Remus firmly.
"Good," she said with a soft smile. "Love is a precious thing, Remus. If you have found it then you must keep it, and never let it go."
Remus's face lost its tension, and he smiled. "I intend to," he said seriously.
"Then I'm very happy for you, my love."
And she turned back to her book, and Remus took a sip of his tea, and it was good.
Disclaimer: the works and poems mentioned in this chapter belong to the author's who wrote them, not to me. I'm just borrowing them for Remus's sake.