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Chapter Text

Godric’s Hollow, Northumberland

“Teddy! It’s Sirius time!” 

Teddy gasped excitedly at the sound of his mummy’s voice ringing over the intercom, and his eyes snapped up to the wooden clock hanging on his bedroom wall. It was in the shape of a brown fox with a long, bushy tail that swung back and forth with each second. 

Sure enough, the clock’s little hand was almost to the eight. Teddy had been writing a letter to Father Christmas, but he quickly dropped his crayon into the big coloring bucket. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted for Christmas, but he’d think about that later. Instead, he scooted off his beanbag chair and crawled over to a small, round wooden door that looked a bit like a big mouse hole. He lifted a metal hook and watched the door swing open. Then, he climbed inside, feet first, and pressed a button on the wall.

“Incoming!” Teddy cried into the intercom.

“Roger that!” his mummy answered. “Ready for landing!” 

“Three, two, one!” Teddy said, and pushed off, slipping fast down a clear plastic tube slide, his hair fluttering as he flew. He looked up in time to see a perfect banana-shaped moon shining against the dark sky outside. Bananas! Maybe Sirius would make something with bananas tonight! 

But he didn’t have long to wonder about it. Because the next second, Teddy had shot out the other end of the slide, landing on a fat, wide pillow on the living room floor. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to the couch, where his maman and daddy were already waiting for him in the warm light of the fire that popped and crackled in the hearth. 

His daddy lifted his arm with a smile. It was an invitation to cuddle, which Teddy happily accepted. He scrambled onto the couch and scooched against the warmth of his daddy’s woolen jumper, resting his head against his chest. His maman leaned over to kiss Teddy on the forehead, just as the familiar electric guitar music started playing over the opening credits and Sirius’s signature logo—a black star with two silver whisks crossed over the middle—flashed across the telly. 

“Mummy!” Teddy said. “You’re missing the beginning!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” Teddy’s mummy said as she hurried into the living room carrying a big wooden bowl. “I was adding a new topping to the popcorn. Salted caramel this week!” 

She, too, kissed Teddy on the forehead, then plopped onto the couch next to Teddy’s maman and passed the bowl around. 

“I hope he makes something for Christmas,” Teddy said through a mouthful of popcorn. It was salty and sweet and crunched between his teeth. Then he tasted a surprise. Chocolate chips! Even better. 

Finally, Teddy’s favorite TV show, “Sirius Eats,” began. 

There, on the screen, was the man himself, Sirius Black, with his shiny black hair that tumbled over his shoulders like a shampoo advert, bright, blue-gray eyes, and straight white teeth. He wore a tight white t-shirt, a black apron, and had tattoos inked down both arms. He stood behind a marble counter in the small kitchen of his cozy London flat and leaned forward, propping his chin onto the heel of his hand to have a little chat.

“I don’t know about you, but I am such a procrastinator,” Sirius said, staring straight into the camera—straight at Teddy!—with a smile that looked a little bit fun, a little bit naughty, and a lot smart, all at the same time. 

“What’s a procra… procra… that word?” Teddy whispered to his daddy.

“It means you wait until the last minute to do things,” Daddy whispered back.

“And it somehow gets even worse around Christmas,” Sirius continued. “I’ll think I have plenty of time to do everything, and then suddenly the morning of a party will arrive, and I’ll have to scramble to put together a last-minute dessert. So I came up with an idea that uses procrastination to my advantage: a gingerbread decorating party. I’ll make the gingerbread people and icing in advance, and let my guests take care of the rest. Come on, I’ll show you how I make them.” 

Teddy grabbed another handful of popcorn and snuggled closer to his daddy’s side to watch Sirius Black make the most beautiful, chestnut-brown gingerbread dough that Teddy had ever seen. He made it look so easy and fun and told funny stories as he measured and whisked. He added lots of molasses, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves to give them a “spicy, biting warmth” and even added an egg yolk so they’d be a little soft when you bit into them (“You don’t want to break anyone’s teeth at Christmas!” Sirius said with a cheeky wink). Then, he covered the dough in cling film and popped it into the fridge. 

“Right. While that chills, I’ve got to pick up a few things before the party,” Sirius said, taking off his black apron and pulling on a black leather jacket instead. Seconds later, he was zooming through the streets of London on his motorbike, taking Teddy on a ride all through his neighborhood. They visited the butcher, the cheese shop, the wine store, and even the toy store to pick up a gift for his godson, Harry.

“I think he’ll like this wooden train, don’t you?” Sirius asked, holding up the shiny red train to show the camera.

“Yeah!!” Teddy replied to the telly. 

When Sirius got back to his flat, he sprinkled plenty of flour across the counter and onto his rolling pin. He used a ruler to make sure the dough was exactly ¼ inch thick before pressing a biscuit cutter into it to make little people. He picked up each little dough figure in his tattooed hands (which also had black nail varnish and fancy silver rings on them) and placed them carefully onto baking sheets. Then he mixed up a batch of cocktails—a “festive French 75,” whatever that was; Teddy didn’t really care about the cocktail part—while the gingerbread men baked and he made the royal icing. 

Finally, came Teddy’s favorite bit. The end of the show when a bunch of Sirius’s friends came over for a party, including Harry! Harry was the same age as Teddy and had messy black hair, round glasses, and two missing front teeth. He jumped into Sirius’s arms, where he was spun in a happy circle, before decorating the gingerbread with colored icing, sugary baubles, sparkly gold sprinkles, and spicy cinnamon candies. Harry made a cheerful mess and licked the spoon, and Sirius didn’t care one bit! He just said, “Great job, mate!” and ruffled Harry’s hair. Sometimes Daddy let Teddy lick the spoon, too, but only when they were baking for themselves. If they were baking for the inn, Daddy said Teddy needed to “keep his tongue in his mouth.” 

“Daddy, can we make gingerbread men tomorrow, too?” Teddy asked through a yawn. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” Daddy replied and pulled a blanket over Teddy’s shoulders. “We can do that.” 

“Can we serve them at the inn at teatime?” Teddy asked. 

“That’s a great idea, buddy,” Daddy whispered, and kissed the top of Teddy’s head. Teddy yawned again. 

“Sleepy, sweetheart?” Daddy asked. 

“No,” Teddy murmured. He wasn’t. Only his eyes were a little tired. So he let them fall shut. Just for a minute. He heard Sirius’s voice, but it sounded quieter and softer, like it was floating away.

“Have you ever seen a more perfect looking gingerbread man…”

Teddy must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he heard was a different TV show and his mummy’s voice. He kept his eyes squeezed tight shut, though. If he opened them, his parents would make him go to bed. 

“He was just outed, you know,” Mummy said. 

“Who was outed?” Maman asked. 

“Sirius Black,” Mummy replied. 

“What? Really?” Maman asked. 

“It’s not that surprising,” Mummy said. “There’ve been rumors for years.”

“But I thought he was dating zat actress now. From ze spy films. Marlene something.” 

“Apparently she was just a beard. Pretty arm candy for red carpets to get people to stop asking questions.” 

“How on earth do you two know all this?” Daddy asked. 

“I take it you’re not on the celebrity gossip side of TikTok,” Mummy laughed.

“I’m not on any side of TikTok,” Daddy replied. 

“It’s unbelievable people still do zat. It’s 2024!” Maman said.

“Come on, Fleur, it’s not like homophobia has magically vanished from the world,” Mummy said. “It must be extra hard for celebrities. All those eyes on them all the time? Cameras following them around? Every move they make being scrutinized? And for someone like Sirius Black, whose career is built on being a sexy chef? Women want him, men want to be him. He could lose half his audience if he came out.” 

“But it’s setting a bad example for ze children! By not being… authentique!” Maman said, then let out a torrent of annoyed French under her breath.

“I think you’re being too hard on him,” Mummy said. 

“Pfft,” Maman scoffed.

“Anyhow, now’s your chance, eh, Rem?” Mummy said. 

“Oh, shut it, Tonks,” Daddy said, and a bubbling laugh burst from Mummy’s chest. Her laugh was so loud that people sometimes turned around in shops to see where it was coming from. Teddy loved it. 

“You’ve always fancied him, and now you know he plays for your team!” Mummy said. 

“Yes, right, I’ll get on the next train to London and let him know I’m single,” Daddy said, and Teddy could picture him rolling his eyes. 

“You should put him on your Christmas list,” Mummy said in a teasing voice. “Or at least add him to your wank bank.” 

“Tonks!” Daddy hissed. “Shhh!” 

“Come on! He’s sleeping!” Mummy said. 

“No, he’s not,” Maman said. A second later, Teddy felt his Maman’s manicured fingernails tickling under his chin, and he exploded into giggles. “See? You faker!” 

“I don’t want to go to bed yet!” Teddy whined, but it was no use. It never was. It was three against one. 

A few minutes later, after Teddy had brushed his teeth and put on his pyjamas, Daddy was just tucking him into bed when he remembered something he’d heard earlier. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What’s outed mean?” 

“Hmm?” Daddy asked. He sat at the edge of Teddy’s bed and tilted his head to one side with a confused expression. 

“Outed. Like what Mummy said about Sirius?” 

“Oh,” Daddy said, and his voice sounded a bit quieter all of a sudden. “Well, that’s when people learn that someone is gay. But the person hadn’t told anyone. So someone else told their secret.” 

Teddy thought about this for a moment. 

“That means Sirius Black is gay?” 

“According to celebrity TikTok, apparently.” 

“Why did he want to keep it a secret?” Teddy asked. 

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to be gay. Not everyone is nice to you.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” Daddy said, and his voice wasn’t just quiet. It sounded a little sad now, too. Teddy didn’t know why. Everyone was nice to his parents. Teddy was quiet again while he considered this turn of events. 

“So does that mean Sirius Black needs a husband?” Teddy asked. 

“I don’t know,” Daddy laughed. “Maybe.”

“You need a husband, too.” 

“I don’t need a husband,” Daddy said. 

“Yes, you do! And it could be Sirius Black!”

“But, sweetheart, we don’t know Sirius Black.”

“Maybe we could go meet him! We could get on the train to London, like you said, and—“

“It’s time for sleep now, Teddy.” 

“But—” 

“It’s time for sleep,” Daddy said again, more firmly this time. He gave Teddy one more kiss, said goodnight, and slipped out of Teddy’s bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him. 

But Teddy did not go to sleep. He finally knew what to put on his Christmas list. 

He pulled his camping torch out of the drawer in his bedside table, tiptoed over to his beanbag chair, retrieved the letter he’d been working on, along with a clipboard, and rushed back to bed. He pulled the covers over his head, propped up his torch on the edge of his pillow, and started writing. 

Dear Father Christmas,

It’s Edward Remus Delacour Lupin. But you can call me Teddy.

I know it is not nice to be greedy because I already have 2 mummies. But I would also like 2 daddies. I would like my other daddy to be Sirius Black, please. He would be a great daddy for me. I already love him a lot. He is nice and funny and very smart. I am also a good chef just like him and we could all be chefs together. I think he would love my daddy too. My daddy is very handsome. And very nice. He makes funny jokes and he bakes the best croissants ever. He also gives the best hugs and can fix anything. He would make the best husband for Sirius now that Sirius is outed. 

I love you! 

Love, 

Teddy

Teddy decorated the letter as beautifully as he could, drawing Christmas trees and presents and pictures of him, Daddy, Mummy, Maman, and their cat, Moony, just so Father Christmas would know what a lovely family Sirius Black would be getting if he joined theirs. He drew their houses and the inn and all the gardens and greenhouses. Then, just to be safe, Teddy wrote another letter, too. Because maybe Father Christmas couldn’t deliver people.

Dear Mr. Black…

London 

Sirius Black rounded the corner of the dingy side street and groaned. There, in front of the building, was an eager knot of photographers, looking like vultures circling a dying animal, waiting for it to take its last breath.

Except the animal in question was him. 

A part of him wanted to say “fuck it” and just keep driving, to not stop until he reached James’s house. Another part of him wanted to drive his motorbike straight through the photographers, making them scatter like the vermin they were. 

But he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he parked his motorbike and wordlessly elbowed his way through the scrum, leaving his helmet on so they at least wouldn’t get a decent picture of his face.

“Sirius! Sirius!” they called as he climbed the stone stairs. The flashbulbs clicked and burst all around him as he pushed past. 

“Do you feel betrayed?” 

“What would you tell Evan if you knew he was listening?” 

“Why won’t you take off your helmet? Are you ashamed of your sexuality?” 

Sirius ignored them, walking through the heavy wooden door as the doorman opened it. 

“Thanks, Clive,” Sirius nodded. 

“Anytime, Sirius,” Clive replied, shutting the door behind them. “Sorry ‘bout them arseholes.” 

“Eh, part of the deal, right?” 

“Maybe. Shouldn't have to be, though.” 

“Appreciate that,” Sirius said, clapping Clive on the shoulder and striding down the hallway toward the conference room. Only when he was safely inside did he take off his helmet. But the sight that greeted him there wasn’t much better than the one outside.

Sirius’s body stiffened as he looked around at the dozen or so people in suits whose conversation he’d clearly interrupted.The long conference table was littered with papers and half-drunk cups of tea and coffee. There was even a PowerPoint slide on a large screen at the end of the room with the heading, “Damage Control.” The meeting was supposed to be about Sirius’s desire to move away from regularly appearing on television and focus more on writing cookbooks. But he had a feeling that the agenda had shifted drastically. 

“Started without me, I see?” he asked coldly.

Sirius’s gaze found his manager, Caradoc Dearborn, who at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed at being caught so blatantly discussing Sirius behind his back. Dearborn stood up and rushed to meet Sirius by the door, putting a placating hand on his arm. 

“We wanted to get a few housekeeping items out of the way before you arrived, mate. Nothing important,” Dearborn said, giving Sirius that charming, slightly smarmy smile of his. 

“How thoughtful,” Sirius deadpanned.

Dearborn was a 37-year-old, baby-faced wunderkind with an uncanny ability to negotiate savage business deals while keeping everyone convinced that he was just a “regular bloke,” thanks to his working class background, rough-around-the-edges accent, and insistence on wearing black hoodies and jeans all the time, even in meetings with powerful executives. 

These traits were the very things that Sirius liked so much about Dearborn when they first met a decade ago. Dearborn seemed like a breath of fresh air. Genuine. Authentic. So different from the buttoned-up establishment Sirius had been brought up with. But now, Dearborn’s jeans and hoodies seemed less authentic and more like a costume, especially in moments like this, when Dearborn was leading a meeting apparently centered around “damage control.” 

Sirius took a seat at the empty end of the conference table and faced the roomful of people who’d suddenly gone quiet. 

“OK, then,” Sirius said, dropping his helmet onto the table with a thud. “Catch me up.” 

“I told you. It’s just housekeeping,” Dearborn shrugged. 

“Bullshit. I can fucking read,” Sirius spat, pointing at the PowerPoint. He looked around at everyone, but they only shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Well?” 

There was a moment of silence until someone finally spoke up. 

“We were discussing your statement to the press,” said Pandora Lovegood, a terse, no-nonsense publicist whose entire closet seemed to be filled with shoulder-padded pantsuits with enormous gold buttons. 

“What statement?” Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow defiantly. “I have nothing to say.”

Pandora opened her mouth to reply, but Dearborn spoke first.

“Sirius, just listen—”

“No, Doc, I already told you how I feel!” Sirius said. “I don’t owe anyone an explanation for how I live my private life.” 

“You were publicly outed, Sirius,” Dearborn said. “People have questions.” 

“No! Sirius Black Incorporated was outed! But me? This person right here?” Sirius cried, jabbing his index finger into his chest, his heart pounding angrily. “I’ve always been who I am. It was you lot who shoved me into the closet.” 

“If you don’t address this, the press is going to let Evan say whatever he wants to say!” Lovegood said. “You can’t let a vindictive ex control the narrative. The public—”

“I don’t give a shit about the public!” Sirius exclaimed. 

But then another voice cut in, one that was as clipped and rigid as the man to whom it belonged. 

“You better give a shit about the public, young man.” 

Sirius’s stomach tightened. Barty Crouch Sr., his network’s vice president of programming, was glaring at him through his round wire spectacles from the other end of the long table.

“Because that’s who keeps you employed,” Crouch continued, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Middle-aged housewives want to fantasize about you in their kitchen. They don’t want to picture your goddamn boyfriend, too.”

“I think you’ve met the wrong housewives,” Sirius snorted, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. 

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you, Mr. Black?” Crouch said in a low voice. 

“I have my moments, yeah,” Sirius shrugged. 

“Did you ever stop and consider, then, that hundreds of jobs are riding on the image of Sirius Black?” Crouch asked.

“The image of Sirius Black?” Sirius repeated slowly. “What am I, a corporate invention?” 

“For the purposes of this meeting, Mr. Black, yes, you surely fucking are,” Crouch shot back.

“No. I’m surely fucking not,” Sirius replied, his voice shaking with anger. “I’m a real person. With a real life. And I have had enough of pretending otherwise.” 

Sirius grabbed his helmet and pushed his chair back roughly from the table.

“Where are you going?” Dearborn’s frightened voice said.

“What does it matter where I’m going?” Sirius snapped. “If Sirius Black is just an image, then you don’t actually need me at all.” 

Sirius turned to walk out of the conference room, but once again, Dearborn rushed toward him and grabbed him by the arm.

“Sirius, no,” he hissed, standing between Sirius and the door.

“Why the fuck should I stay?” Sirius demanded. “You don’t care about me. You care about the brand.” 

“That is not true,” Dearborn said, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Then let me ignore all of this,” Sirius replied. “It’ll blow over.”

Dearborn sighed and shook his head. 

“You know we can’t do that, Sirius. The press is already having a field day, and we have advertisers to answer to. And the network, brand deals, appearances. Not to mention people’s jobs. There’s a lot riding on this.” 

“Fine. Do whatever you want,” Sirius said. “But don’t expect me to be a part of it.” 

And with that, Sirius pushed past Dearborn and walked out the door.

“Done already?” Clive asked, as Sirius rushed by.

“Done enough,” Sirius muttered without slowing down. He opened the door before Clive had a chance to do it for him, but was immediately met by a crush of paparazzi. They crowded around him, pressing in on all sides, shouting questions, pointing cameras in his face, blocking his path down the stairs. All he could see were aggressive elbows, camera lenses, clicking flashbulbs, and screaming mouths that wanted to eat him alive. 

“What’ll you tell little Harry when he finds out his godfather is a cocksucker?” a voice yelled above the din, and something in Sirius snapped. 

“If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth, I will shut it for you!” Sirius snarled. 

“Is that a confirmation?” another pap shouted, and before he even realized what he was doing, Sirius had wheeled around, lunged forward, and took a swing at one of their cameras. The paparazzo dodged Sirius’s fist and stumbled backwards, but still managed to keep taking photos, the bastard. 

Sirius fought his way to his motorbike, climbed on, and revved the engine, skidding away as the photographers jumped back. They gave chase on foot until Sirius turned the corner and disappeared into London traffic. 

“So,” James said 30 minutes later, opening the door before Sirius even knocked. “You’re straight and you punched a photographer, huh?”

“What?”

“Twitter.”

“Wow, they can’t get anything right. I’m gay as hell and he ducked.”

James stepped aside to let Sirius into the house just as Sirius’s dog, Padfoot, came bounding to greet him. Sirius crouched down and scratched the great black mutt behind his ears, thankful for the dog’s uncomplicated love and affection. 

“Hiya, mate,” Sirius said softly. “Having fun visiting Harry for a few days? You miss me?” 

Padfoot whined happily and flopped onto his side, his tail thumping madly against the tile floor of James’s front entryway. Thank god for having a best friend who lives in a gated estate, Sirius thought. 

“Sirius!” another voice said, and Sirius looked up to see James’s wife, Lily, whose face was creased with worry. Her long red ponytail swung behind her as she hurried to join them. “Are you alright? I just read that you punched a photographer!”  

“Attempted,” Sirius corrected. “Attempted to punch a photographer.” 

“What the hell happened?” James asked. 

It didn’t take long for Sirius to explain the whole terrible fuckery of it all to Lily and James. They made him a plate of leftover steak and kidney pie, which he balanced on his knee as he ate in front of the fire in their cozy little sitting room. Padfoot was laying on the rug with his head on top of Sirius’s combat-booted foot, while Harry built a Lego tower on the coffee table. 

“We didn’t even talk about cookbooks or anything,” Sirius said bitterly. 

He looked down at his phone and reread “his” statement to the press, which had apparently been issued minutes after he walked out of the meeting: “If I were gay, I would tell people. Evan Rosier is a former friend whom I thought I knew. I was clearly wrong. I wish him and his family all the best.” 

“It’s not technically a lie,” James said.

“No, but it’s not exactly the truth either, is it?” Sirius said. 

“I hate that Evan did this to you,” Lily said. Blotchy purplish-red hives were blooming across her neck, which always happened when she got ripping angry. “I still don’t know why you didn’t let me slash his tires.” 

“Because I can’t let you get arrested over that stupid knob,” Sirius replied. 

“Would’ve been worth it,” Lily grumbled. 

But Sirius didn’t answer. Even here, in the relative safety of James and Lily’s house, Sirius felt the walls closing in on him. He felt hounded, pursued, like there were eyes and ears everywhere, lurking around every corner, hiding behind every door. He put his empty plate onto the coffee table and stood up abruptly, making Padfoot jump in surprise. 

“I just… I need to get the hell out of here,” Sirius said with a manic laugh, running a hand through his long black hair. He paced back and forth in front of the fire. He wanted to jump out of his own skin. “I need to get away for a while.” 

“So go,” James said, his voice a calm breeze in the raging hurricane of Sirius’s mind.

“Like it’s that easy,” Sirius scoffed, not slowing his relentless pacing. Padfoot watched him, his head swiveling back and forth with each of Sirius’s steps. 

“You’re done filming for the year,” James reasoned. “You’ve got the whole season in the can. You have nothing until the live special on Christmas Eve.” 

“I’ve got meetings. With lawyers, reporters, executives.” 

“So cancel them!” James said. “You’re rich and famous, and your TV show pays all their bills. Act like a diva once in a while.” 

Sirius stopped in front of the hearth, the fire warm against his back. He looked at James, his brother, his best friend on earth; James, who’d rescued him more times and in more ways than Sirius could count; James, who’d never steered him wrong. 

“Yeah?” Sirius asked, searching James’s face. 

“Yeah!” James replied easily. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, then looked at Sirius expectantly. “Where do you want to go?” 

“I want…” Sirius started, but hesitated. He hadn’t taken a real holiday in, well… he’d never taken one. He’d been working nonstop his entire life. Where did he want to go? He closed his eyes for a second and imagined. He wanted privacy. He wanted nature. He wanted peace and quiet. He wanted to see the stars and hear the wind, to hear his own heartbeat.  

“I want to get out of the city,” Sirius said before the thought even had time to fully register in his mind. 

“OK,” James nodded. “What else?” 

What else? Was this real? Was he really doing this?

Sirius took a deep breath. He looked down at Padfoot who was watching him expectantly. 

“I want… I want someplace…honest. Authentic. Someplace where I can feel connected to something.”

“Think you could come up with something a little less abstract?” James asked. “I can’t exactly put that into Expedia.”  

“OK, umm, how about… dog friendly,” Sirius said. “With decent food. Where I can stay for two weeks.” 

“Make it three weeks,” Lily said. 

“Fine, three weeks, Sirius agreed quickly. “And I want it to be far the fuck away from London.” 

“OK, let’s see what we can find,” James said, typing fast into his phone. “Right, here’s a place. They say it has ‘rustic charm.’ Let’s see the reviews.”

James clicked a few more times, and his eyebrows shot up. 

“OK, that is a hypodermic needle in the bed,” James said. “We will keep looking.”

James shook his head as he swiped through the options and talked to himself. 

“No…. no… definitely not. Alright, this one looks like a straight-up crack den…” 

“What the hell website are you on?” Lily asked, snatching James’s phone away and commandeering the search herself. She typed furiously for a few seconds, then sat back against the couch with an amazed smile. 

“Oh, wow,” she said, her eyes scanning the phone and widening excitedly. “Wow! How about this? Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast. It’s in Northumberland. Located on 1,100 acres of conservation land. Serves fresh, farm-to-table food. It’s off the grid, they use all renewable energy sources and composting toilets.” 

“Gross,” James muttered.

“Pets welcome. Queer-owned and operated. And there’s one cottage available,” Lily said. “It says they ‘value honest, authentic experiences that connect guests to the land and their food.’”

Lily looked up at Sirius. 

“Did you write this?” she asked with a disbelieving little laugh. 

Sirius stared at her, stunned.

“Does it really say all that?” he asked.

“It really does,” Lily told him. He walked slowly across the room, sat down next to her on the couch, and she handed him the phone. There, on the little screen, was a beautiful country inn, surrounded by soft foliage, rolling meadows, and gently undulating streams. It looked like it was plucked from a storybook—idyllic, perfect—and something in Sirius’s heart settled at the sight of it. 

“It’s beautiful,” Sirius murmured, his eyes raking over the image. He saw greenhouses and gardens. Walking paths, stone walls and little white fences.

Three weeks. 

“You can come back to London December 23,” Lily said, as though reading Sirius’s thoughts. “The day before you film the live show.” 

Sirius looked up at Lily, then at James, seeking one more bit of reassurance. 

“Am I just running away?” Sirius asked suddenly. His throat felt thick, his lungs heavy. “Again?”

“No. And you didn’t run away then, either,” James told him quietly. “You saved yourself.” 

“You’d tell me, right?” Sirius asked. 

James gave him a soft smile and nodded.

“Of course,” James said. 

“Do you really think I should do this? Cancel my whole life for a month?”

“It’s not a month. It’s three weeks. It’s barely a proper holiday,” James said.  

“Go, Sirius,” Lily agreed. “You need it. Everything will still be here when you get back.”

Yeah, Sirius thought. That’s what he was afraid of. All his problems just festering while he was gone. Oh, to leave them behind forever. 

“Alright, then,” Sirius nodded nervously. “Three weeks.” 

“Shall we book it?” Lily asked, sounding a bit surprised but happy. 

Sirius nodded, then looked down at the picture once more. Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast. Three weeks. Would he be bored out of his mind? Or would he finally be able to take a breath? 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, handing the phone back to Lily before he could change his mind. “Book it.” 

Chapter Text

Remus’s feet crunched over the frost-covered grass and his breath puffed out in sparkly little clouds that hung like tiny diamonds in the violet dawn. Although he loved the cozy bustle of the inn and its guests, there was something magical about these solitary early mornings that cleansed Remus’s soul and grounded him. A sacred hush rested across the land, and he was allowed to breathe in its sleeping stillness.

Each morning, he went about his chores like a quiet meditation: Gathering eggs from beneath the snoozing hens; feeding his sourdough; baking his overnight-proofed cinnamon rolls and croissants; and checking his email over coffee and a scone with his own homemade clotted cream and strawberry preserves slathered across the top. 

Today was no different. Remus settled into his office and opened his laptop to find a pleasant surprise. Rosehip Cottage had been booked—and prepaid—for three weeks. He breathed a sigh of relief. They’d had a last-minute cancellation a few days before, and vacant rooms were always a bit nerve wracking. 

He wasn’t worried about their finances. Not really. But that lingering fear of want still hung over his head, a worry that never quite dissipated, no matter how booming their business. He supposed it was because he knew what it was like to live hand-to-mouth. He knew what hunger and worn-out shoes felt like. 

If Tonks and Fleur were here, they would kiss him on the cheek and ruffle his hair and tell him not to worry. They would remind him that, “We’re doing just fine, love.” And of course, they’d be right. But still, it was nice to have a full inn, and Remus was grateful for the new reservation. 

He read through the email and laughed a little at the guest’s strange name: Stubby Boardman. Weird. Stubby was traveling alone, apart from his dog. He had no food allergies or dietary restrictions. In fact, the reservation only made one special request. Stubby asked that his key be left under the cottage’s doormat, rather than at the front desk, since he’d be arriving late at night. That’s reasonable, Remus thought, and went about his day. 

He went back to the house to make Teddy’s lunch and kiss him goodbye before Fleur drove him to school. He printed out an attendance list for Tonks for that day’s foraging hike. He packed the in-room breakfast baskets for the guests who’d ordered them and arranged the breakfast buffet for the other guests in the inn’s dining room. He sent one of his waitstaff home because they clearly had a cold and should not be sneezing while pouring coffee. He looked over that day’s beetroot harvest for tomorrow’s chocolate beetroot cake. He’d save the greens to saute for dinner later that week, even though Teddy would complain about it. But what seven-year-old wants to eat their vegetables? He sent emails to his butcher, the laundry service, and the coffee distributor. He greeted guests with glasses of sparkling wine and lavender macarons filled with honey buttercream made with honey from their beehives. Then he walked back home to their cottages to have dinner with his family, read Teddy a story, and kiss him goodnight. 

He went to bed that night and slept soundly. He didn’t wake up at all, not when a Land Rover rolled up the dirt-packed road and parked in front of Rosehip Cottage. Not even when a great black dog bounded out of the Land Rover and barked at a field mouse that scurried across the cottage’s front garden as they walked inside. 

The next morning dawned crisp and cold once again. And once again, Remus completed his morning meditation of quiet chores. When he returned to the inn’s kitchen an hour later, he found his sous-chef, Alfie, already there and pulling the croissants from the oven, wearing his signature white hat with lamb ears on top that his girlfriend knitted him. Its name was Porkchop and it was a Sagitarrius because she put the last stitch in on November 27. 

“Morning boss,” Alfie said. He deposited the baking sheet onto the counter, spun around, and grabbed the coffee carafe. Remus held out his empty mug gratefully as Alfie refilled it with hot, black French roast.

“Thanks, Alfie,” Remus said, taking a sip. “You’re in early.” 

“Isla’s morning sickness woke us up at 4:00 am,” Alfie yawned. “I’ve already held her hair back for two hours. Figured I should get a jump on the day.” 

“Pragmatic,” Remus said. “Remind me later to ask Tonks to make Isla anti-nausea tea. I think she’s got some red raspberry leaf drying around here somewhere. It always worked wonders for Fleur.“

“Alright, thanks. Anyhow, here are the breakfast basket orders,” Alfie said, yawning again and handing Remus the little stack of menus that guests hung on their room and cottage doors when they wanted room service. 

Remus thumbed through them and noticed that Stubby Boardman had ordered a breakfast basket. He didn’t blame him. He’d arrived so late, he would probably sleep right through the buffet. 

The breakfast baskets were slightly different every morning, and today’s contained a particularly beautiful assortment of goodies, if Remus did say so himself. There were delicate and flaky croissants filled with sweet almond paste; buttery Eccles cakes studded with fat currants; rich and savory Cornish pasties wrapped in parchment paper; delicate Earl Grey macarons; and a carafe of piping hot coffee. Remus tucked it all into a woven basket with chintz cloth napkins, antique silver flatware, and a split of champagne, along with a handwritten note that read, “Welcome to Silver Moon B&B. We’re so happy you’re here.” 

Alfie delivered the baskets to the inn’s guestrooms, while Remus walked Stubby Boardman’s basket across the grounds to deliver it to Rosehip Cottage’s front stoop. The cottage was quiet, with the curtains still drawn, so Remus did his best to be silent as he opened the little gate, tiptoed up the steps, and left the basket in front of the door. He was just walking away when a bumper sticker on the back of the brown Land Rover in the driveway caught his eye. It was a black star with two silver whisks crossed over the middle. Remus stopped and stared at it for a moment. It looked oddly familiar. 

Then he realized where he recognized it from. It was the logo that was splashed across all things Sirius Black: his TV show, his magazine, his cookbooks, his bakeware line, his kitchen linens, etc, etc. Wow, Remus thought, looking the Land Rover up and down, then glancing back at the cottage once more. Whoever was inside must be a Sirius Black superfan if he was cruising around with his logo on a bumper sticker. Oh, well, to each their own, Remus supposed, while also making a mental note to go online and buy one of the stickers for Teddy, who’d love to decorate his recipe binder with it. 

Remus’s day was pleasantly busy and undisturbed by anything out of the ordinary. Until he arrived home, that is. 

“Daddy!” Teddy cried, bounding up to him the moment Remus opened the front door and skidding across the hallway’s hardwood floor in his stocking feet. “Sirius Black is here!” 

“What?” Remus laughed, shucking off his coat and hanging it on a brass hook by the door. He looked down at Teddy, who was pink-cheeked and breathless in front of him, with windblown curls and the collar of his jumper slightly askew.

“Sirius Black is here, I saw him!” Teddy said again. “I wrote to Father Christmas to ask him to make Sirius Black my other daddy, and now he’s here!” 

Teddy was bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for a reply to what he clearly thought was an exciting—and totally plausible—piece of news.

“Is that so?” Remus asked, taking Teddy’s little hand and walking him into the kitchen. Remus turned on the kettle for tea and started pulling mugs and teabags from the cupboard. 

“Yes!” Teddy said, following Remus around the kitchen. “I was playing in the garden with Moony and I saw him! He was walking his dog!” 

“Ahh,” Remus nodded. “Did you say hello?” 

“No, he was too far away,” Teddy said. “And I didn’t want to chase after him in case I scared his dog.” 

“Right, right, that makes sense,” Remus nodded. “So was Sirius Black wearing his apron?” 

At this, Teddy frowned up at him.

“No,” Teddy replied. “He was wearing regular clothes. And he’s had a haircut. So he looks a little different.”

“Was it a nice haircut?” Remus asked.

“Well, I couldn’t really see it that good,” Teddy explained. “He was wearing a hat.”

“Oh, I see,” Remus replied, biting back a little smile, and Teddy frowned again. 

“Do you think I’m lying?” Teddy asked, looking somewhere between hurt and outraged. 

“No, sweetheart, of course not!” Remus assured him, and crouched down so they were eye-level with each other. “If you think you saw him, I believe you.” 

“I don’t think I saw him, I know I saw him!” Teddy insisted. “I wrote to Father Christmas, and now he’s here!” 

“Well, that’s very exciting, then,” Remus said, but Teddy was still scowling.

“You don’t believe me!” Teddy said. 

“I do believe you!” 

“No, you don’t! Mummy and Maman didn’t believe me, either,” Teddy pouted. “They said they checked the guestlist, and he wasn’t on it. But maybe he’s not at the inn! Maybe he was just going for a walk!” 

“Yes, that could very well be,” Remus agreed, and pulled Teddy into a hug. What harm could there be in humoring him? 

But Teddy’s mood did not improve all through dinner. He barely looked up from his plate, and even ate his beet greens without complaint, which was worrying in itself. In fact, Teddy spent the entire meal in mopy silence, while Remus, Fleur, and Tonks exchanged concerned looks across the table.

“He’s still insisting he saw him,” Remus told Fleur and Tonks after putting Teddy to bed. “Should we be worried?” 

Remus flopped into an armchair in the living room with a sigh. Teddy had described, in great detail, what Sirius Black was wearing (a black beanie, jeans, black boots, and a gray jumper) and what his dog looks like (big, shaggy, and black). 

“Nah,” Tonks reassured him with a wave of her hand. She scooched sideways on the couch and put her feet up in Fleur’s lap. “Kids make shit up all the time. I used to tell people I was a witch who could change my hair color by magic.” 

“Oh?” Fleur teased, flipping Tonks’s hot pink curls with the tips of her fingers. “And when did you outgrow that, exactly?”  

“Funny,” Tonks said, tickling Fleur’s waist and making her squeal delightedly before turning back to Remus. “He’s fine, Rem. We should be glad he has such a good imagination.” 

“Yes, but Teddy’s not pretending he has magical powers,” Remus fretted. “He’s writing to Father Christmas asking for a second daddy and then believing he’s seen him. What if he’s unhappy?”

“He’s the happiest little boy there is,” Fleur reassured him, but Remus couldn’t help worrying. “He just wants another daddy because he has two mums.”

“Well, if Teddy wants a second daddy, he’s barking up the wrong tree with Sirius Black,” Tonks said. 

“Why?” Remus asked. “I mean, apart from the obvious reasons.”  

“Apparently, he’s not gay after all,” Tonks shrugged. “He put out a statement saying if he was gay he’d tell people. The guy who supposedly outed him was just trying to get money. So I guess Teddy can put away the rainbow streamers.” 

“Too bad, Remus,”  Fleur teased. 

“Andrew Scott’s still single, though,” Tonks said. “We’ll tell Teddy to write to Father Christmas about him, instead.” 

Not long after, Remus wished them goodnight and headed off to his own house, which was right next door and connected by a little hallway that they’d built between the buildings when they bought the place. Remus’s cottage was smaller, originally built as a carriage house to the main house, but it was just as cozy. It was also the spot where the family preferred to watch TV and movies because of the big fireplace where Teddy liked to roast chestnuts and make popcorn in the long-handled popper that Remus found in a charity shop years before. 

Remus walked slowly through the house, thinking. He felt strange and off-kilter. He’d never worried about their unconventional little family before, believing that the more love Teddy had, the better. But now… was Teddy unfulfilled in some way? Is that why he wanted another parent? 

And there was something else bothering Remus, too, something that he’d never, ever admit out loud, especially not to Fleur and Tonks, who would tease him mercilessly. He was a touch disappointed that Sirius Black wasn’t gay after all. Which was silly! So, incredibly silly. Who cared whether Sirius Black was gay or not? What did it really matter in the grand scheme of Remus’s life?

But still…

Remus stripped down to his boxers and got into bed. He pulled up the quilt, settled onto his pillow, and shut his eyes. He had a lot to do tomorrow, and he tried to run through his to-do list before going to sleep. Immediately, though, his mind betrayed him. There, rising up out of his imagination, was Sirius Black, wearing a tight white t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and a black apron tied around his trim waist. He gazed at Remus with a smoldering expression as he kneaded his bread dough. 

“Don’t be afraid to put your back into it,” Sirius said with a dark, sexy wink. 

Remus’s eyes flew open, and he stared at the ceiling of his dark bedroom. Fuck, this was stupid. What was he, a teenager? Fantasizing about his celebrity crush? He huffed annoyedly at himself and closed his eyes again. But Sirius was still there, waiting for him behind his eyelids, his big, tattooed hands working the dough, rolling it under his palms, squeezing it between his fingers. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Sirius asked huskily. Remus whined a little to himself, and gave in. He shoved his hand into his boxers, grasped his already half-hard cock, and imagined what else Sirius Black’s fingers could do. 

The next morning, Alfie handed Remus that day’s little stack of room service menus. Like yesterday, Stubby Boardman had ordered an in-room breakfast basket. But this time, there was a handwritten note in the “special requests” box at the bottom of the order form. 

To the chef: Please accept my sincerest thanks for an incredible breakfast and the most delicious almond croissants I’ve ever tasted. Your crème d'amande was a revelation, and your lamination was exquisite. Are you classically trained? S.B.

A pleasant little flush crept up Remus’s neck as he read the note. People often wrote thank yous in the inn’s guestbook, comment cards, and order forms. But none that Remus could remember were quite so specific as this one, calling out the individual components of a particular recipe and complimenting his technique. He read the note again, taking in the lovely, slanted penmanship and the initials, S.B., and found himself smiling involuntarily, then glanced up at Alfie, suddenly self-conscious. But Alfie, thankfully, wasn’t watching. He was busy garnishing the winterberry gateau petit fours with sugared pansies.

Remus packed the breakfast baskets, adding little notes to each as usual, wishing the guests a nice day or thanking them for visiting. But when it was time to write Stubby Boardman’s note, Remus’s pen hovered over the card, hesitating. Should he answer Stubby’s question? 

Remus’s heart pounded for reasons he couldn’t quite explain as he wrote his reply.

Thank you for your lovely note. The almond croissants are an inn specialty. The chef has no formal culinary training, but learned the basics of French patisserie while working in restaurant kitchens and honed his technique through years of practice. YouTube helps, too. :-) 

Remus wasn’t sure why, exactly, he was telling all of this to Stubby Boardman, a guest who hadn’t left his cottage since checking in and whom Remus hadn’t seen at all. Even so, he slipped the note into an envelope and tucked it into the breakfast basket before he could change his mind. Once again, Remus delivered the basket to Rosehip Cottage’s front porch. Once again, the curtains were drawn, and Remus noticed the black star logo on the back of the Land Rover in the driveway. 

“Any more Sirius Black sightings today?” Tonks asked Teddy over dinner that evening. 

“I don’t want to say,” Teddy mumbled, as he stared down at his plate and moved his shepherd's pie around morosely with his fork.

“Come on, you can tell us!” Tonks insisted. 

“Why? You don’t believe me, anyhow,” Teddy replied.

“Yes, we do!” Fleur said. “We want to hear all about it.”

“Really?” Teddy asked, his head snapping up and looking around at his three parents with a sweet, wide-eyed expression that made Remus want to scoop him into his arms and cuddle him close. 

Remus, Tonks, and Fleur had decided that it didn’t matter whether Teddy really saw Sirius Black or not. What mattered was that he felt comfortable talking with them about whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and didn’t feel small or unheard. 

“Of course,” Remus told him. “We’re sorry we made you feel silly. Sometimes grownups make mistakes. We want to hear all about it.” 

“Alright!” Teddy said. He sat up straight, his eyes and face shining. “I saw Sirius with his dog again today! And this time, I smiled and then he smiled, so I waved and he waved back!” 

“That’s so nice!” Fleur said. “Does his dog seem friendly, too?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Teddy nodded. “He saw Moony and didn’t even bark at him. And guess what else? His dog was wearing a jumper!” 

“And what about Sirius Black? What was he wearing today?” Tonks asked.

“Kinda the same thing as yesterday, but a different color jumper,” Teddy said, scooping up a huge bite of shepherd’s pie and shoveling it into his mouth. He tried to speak again around his peas and mashed potatoes, but Fleur shook her head.

“Chew and swallow first, please,” she reminded him. 

Teddy obeyed, then took a big sip of milk before continuing. 

“His jumper was red today,” Teddy said. “But he has a lot of money so I bet he has a lot of jumpers.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Remus agreed, smiling at Fleur and Tonks as Teddy rattled on about the rest of his day. 

The next morning brought another breakfast basket order from Stubby Boardman, along with another handwritten note that was so long, it continued out of the little box and onto the back of the order form. 

To the chef: I’m simply astounded by your talent, which is surely innate. Schools and teachers can instruct on technique, but some things cannot be taught. Instead, they are simply inborn, and your skills and instincts for baking seem to be among them. Your winterberry gateau was absolutely wonderful. Light and delicate, but with an assertive flavor that should have been overpowering, but wasn’t. The sponge’s crumb was better than anything I’ve ever tasted, even in Paris. The vanilla bean came through beautifully, too, which is tough to do, given the strong sweetness and tang of the berries. Do you write all your own recipes? Do you source your ingredients locally? Also, I thought I tasted suet in the Cornish pasty shortcrust. Am I right? Too many chefs shy away from suet these days, but I find it lends a richness and texture that cannot be replicated with other fats. PS: Thank you for indulging me with all these questions, in addition to sharing your beautiful food. You are incredibly talented. I hope you know that. S.B.

Remus’s face warmed and his heartbeat quickened as he read the note. It felt so… personal. So intimate. Remus read the note again. A word between “incredibly” and “talented” had been scribbled out with a dark pen, and Remus laughed a little to himself. He imagined that the crossed-out word was “fucking” and Stubby had decided against writing it. But probably not. 

“Hell of a thank you note,” Alfie said, reading over Remus’s shoulder and making him jump in surprise. Remus had been absolutely lost in Stubby Boardman’s words and didn’t even notice that Alfie was standing right next to him. “Think this Stubby fellow is a chef?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus murmured, looking over the note in astonishment before turning to Alfie. “Have you seen him around? Has he come out of his cottage?” 

“Haven’t noticed. Not that I leave the kitchen or greenhouses much,” Alfie said, then pulled a disgusted face. “Ugh, I hope the dog’s not shitting inside.” 

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Remus replied, then made a mental note to check whether Stubby Boardman had requested housekeeping yet. He’d forgotten about the dog. 

“Anyhow, are you going to write back?” Alfie asked. “Seems like he’s turning into a bit of a penfriend.” 

“He’s just asking about the food,” Remus said, feeling another little flush creep up his neck. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Alfie said, but judging by his smirk and singsong tone, he obviously didn’t agree. 

“What, do you think there’s more to it?” Remus pressed. 

“Look, just because you haven’t seen him, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen you,” Alfie said. “Maybe he’s falling in love with the handsome innkeeper who delivers him breakfast every morning. Maybe he’s peeking through the curtains and watching you from inside the cottage every day. Maybe he’s stalking you through the grounds, following you around without you even realizing it. Have you felt like someone was watching you? Like you’re not alone, even in an empty room? Have you had any strange phone calls lately? With just heavy breathing on the other end of the line and then they hang up on you?”

“OK, you just went from ‘The Holiday’ to ‘Rear Window’ pretty freaking fast,” Remus said. “I think he just likes the food.” 

“Whatever you say, boss,” Alfie shrugged, and started peeling a pile of blanched almonds. 

Remus packed that morning’s baskets and was once again faced with a decision when it came time to write Stubby Boardman’s card. Should he reply to all of his questions? Remus supposed it would be rude not to. Stubby was a paying guest, and Remus wanted everyone to feel happy and welcome. So he decided to respond, yet again.

Remus finished writing and read over the note, which overflowed onto the back of the card, even with his small handwriting. He felt a bit embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to write so much. But people so rarely asked him about the particulars of his baking and cooking. It felt nice to have someone to tell it to, especially someone who seemed genuinely interested. Someone whom he felt oddly connected to. Was that weird? It was weird. 

But then, before he could stop himself, he also signed his own name.

Remus’s stomach fizzed a little at the sight of it. Usually the breakfast basket cards came from Silver Moon B&B, not any single person. For all Stubby Boardman knew, the writer could have been any one of the inn’s employees. But now… well, Remus was answering from his own heart. It seemed fitting to sign his own name. 

Remus tucked the note into the basket and walked it across the grounds. Like the past two days, Rosehip Cottage was quiet and still with the curtains closed and the Land Rover parked in the drive. Remus left the basket on the doorstep and walked away, but this time, he remembered Alfie’s words and paused. Was it his imagination or did he feel the weight of someone’s gaze on his back? He turned around and glanced at the cottage once more and immediately felt foolish. It looked exactly as sleepy and peaceful as it had ten seconds ago. He shook his head at himself, and got back to work. 

Remus had a busy day. It was Wednesday, AKA “macaron day” at the inn. It was the quietest day of the week in terms of guest activity, so Remus always spent it making macarons for the following week, serving some right away, and keeping the rest in the deep freeze. He put on his “macaron day” music mix, assembled his ingredients, and got to work. 

Hours later, Remus was piping his lemon buttercream filling onto the macarons when Teddy came tearing into the kitchen, his red knitted winter hat sliding sideways off his head and his backpack hanging on for dear life as it bounced on his shoulders. 

“Daddy!” Teddy cried over the music. “Sirius Black’s outside! He wants to talk to you!” 

“What?” Remus asked, staring at his son. 

“He’s outside! He asked me to come get you!” Teddy insisted. 

Remus looked down at his half-filled macarons then back at Teddy, who was staring at him expectantly, his eyes wide. 

“Teddy, I’m a little busy,” Remus said. 

“But it’s Sirius Black!” Teddy cried, as though he couldn’t believe Remus was being so obtuse. 

“Are you sure it’s really him?” Remus asked, feeling another pang of worry flit across his mind. Maybe they were going a bit too far humoring Teddy.

“Yes!” Teddy huffed. “Come on!” 

Remus looked into Teddy’s sweet little face one more time, then put the piping bag down with a sigh, took off his apron, and followed him out of the kitchen. They crossed through the inn’s empty breakfast room and its library sitting room, where guests were having afternoon tea, reading, and playing board games in front of the fire. 

“Hurry!” Teddy said, pulling at Remus’s hand when he paused to grab his jacket from the coat rack behind the front desk. 

“I’m coming, don’t worry,” Remus said. He put on his jacket and looked down to zip it as Teddy opened the inn’s front door and the welcome bell jangled over their heads. 

“Here he is, Mr. Black!” Teddy announced. “My daddy!” 

“Thanks, kid,” a deep familiar voice said. “I just wanted to give my compliments to the chef in person.”

Remus looked up and felt his mouth fall open. 

“Holy shit!” Remus blurted out. “You’re Sirius Black!” 

Chapter Text

Northumberland was dark. A hell of a lot darker than London. But Godric’s Hollow was somehow even darker than the rest of it. There was barely a streetlight in sight by the time Sirius pulled off the motorway and onto the little dirt access road leading into the conservation land where Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast was located. The only light came from Sirius’s Land Rover, which jostled over the rolling landscape while Padfoot snoozed in the backseat. 

“Where the hell are we?” Sirius muttered to himself, the darkness heavy on his eyes as he struggled to see the road. 

“Arrived!” his sat nav said finally. 

“Thank god,” Sirius replied into the air. 

A chilly gust of wind blew into his face and across his neck as he opened the car door. Fuck, it wasn’t just darker here. It was a lot colder here than it was in London, too. 

He gathered up his bags, let Padfoot out of the backseat, and walked up the stone drive to Rosehip Cottage’s little wooden front gate, which creaked open with a sound that was unnaturally loud in the quiet stillness of the midnight hour. 

Even louder was Padfoot’s bark at a scurrying little something that darted across their path as they approached the cottage. The sound echoed strangely off the rolling hills.

“Shh!” Sirius hissed. “Come on, you can chase random shit tomorrow. I’m tired.” 

Padfoot gave one more excited yelp, then trotted happily up the garden path and onto the cottage’s front porch, where Sirius found the key under the doormat, just as he’d requested. He let himself in, dropped his bags with a heavy thud, and flipped on the hallway light. He didn’t have the energy to look around much. Instead, he kicked off his boots and stripped off his clothes piece by piece, leaving an exhausted trail on his way to the bedroom, where he found an in-room menu and breakfast basket order form.

“Yes, please, give me every option not to interact with other humans,” Sirius said, snatching up the form and a pen. He checked off the breakfast basket delivery request—and added the champagne option, why the fuck not?—then reopened the front door, wearing only his boxers, to hang it on the doorknob. 

“Fuck!” he said, jumping up and down as a frigid breeze swept into the cottage, biting across his bare skin and feet. Jesus Christ, his nipples were so hard they could engrave “toujours pur” on every silver goblet in his mother’s house. He ran on his tiptoes over the cold, wooden floor and jumped under the covers. Padfoot scrambled up right behind him, and they both promptly fell asleep. 

By the time Sirius woke the next day, midmorning sunlight was already filtering through the gauzy white curtains in his bedroom. It took him a few seconds to gain his bearings as he opened his eyes. It was so… quiet. 

Padfoot snuffled a little as Sirius got out of bed and crossed the room, where a fluffy, plush black bathrobe hung from a hook. And, oooh, it was lined with fleece! Fancy! Sirius shrugged it on and tied it around his waist as he padded into the kitchen barefoot. He found a Nespresso coffee maker and brewed himself a strong black French roast, then set about looking around the small cottage. 

The kitchen’s open wooden shelving held an assortment of blue and white ceramics, jars of spices, preserves, loose leaf teas, and dried fruits, while a scrubbed farmhouse table sat in the middle. The fridge was stocked with basics and a handwritten note gave details about nearby markets and cafes. 

The living room was lovely and quaint, with rough stone walls, exposed beams running along the ceiling, wide wooden floorboards, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stuffed with books, board games, and vinyl records. Squashy, mismatched armchairs upholstered in linen and faded chintz faced a rustic fireplace just below the TV. Even the bathroom was cute, with a claw-footed, roll-top soaking tub in the middle. A bath might be relaxing, he thought, and god knows he needed to relax. But even as he told himself this, he wasn’t totally convinced. 

The cottage was small. Tiny, really. And quiet. So, so quiet. 

Sirius looked around again. He was alone. Like, alone alone. In the middle of a sweeping, unnaturally silent nowhere. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Had he made a huge mistake coming here? What was he really going to do here, alone, for three full weeks? There were only so many baths a man could take before he just dissolved with boredom and slid down the drain. 

He was just about to scrounge around the cupboards for something to eat when he remembered his breakfast basket order. He didn’t have high hopes for it, but he was hungry, and even a dry muffin was better than nothing. 

Nothing could have prepared him, though, for what he saw and tasted. 

“Holy shit!” Sirius said around his first bite of almond croissant. It was… it was perfect. Exquisite. A revelation of delicate, flaky pastry and just the right amount of light, sweet crème d'amande. He took another bite and closed his eyes with a little moan, then hurried across the room to hold the croissant under the light of the kitchen window to get a better look at the lamination, pulling apart the layers in astonishment. Whose hands had made this? 

Every bite was better than the last, and Sirius licked the flaky crumbs off his fingertips as he pulled delight after delight from the basket: Eccles cakes, Cornish pasties, Earl Grey macarons. Even the coffee was perfect; rich and strong, with notes of chocolate and berries and not an ounce of bitter aftertaste. 

It didn’t take long before the basket was totally empty. Sirius was in wonderstruck awe. How was such a talented pastry chef hiding here in the middle of nowhere? 

He looked at the basket again. Every detail was lovely and thoughtful, down to the cloth napkins. Then he noticed another blank order form tucked behind the empty macaron box. He pulled it out and immediately ordered another basket for the next day. There was an empty space at the bottom of the form for special requests, too. Sirius decided he had to tell the chef how amazing they were. He knew that most chefs were hidden away in the kitchen and never got to hear how much people enjoyed their food. He wrote what he hoped was a sincere thank you along with the question he was dying to know: Was the chef classically trained? 

Sirius showered, read a few chapters of the book he’d bought months ago and never opened, ordered a few groceries online, then put Padfoot on his lead and headed outside, hanging the little order form on the doorknob as he left. 

Although he’d cut his hair short before he left London, Sirius still pulled his black beanie down low, for fear of being recognized. But he needn’t have worried. He didn’t cross paths with anyone all day while he and Padfoot hiked for miles through the rolling grounds. That is, until he was making his way back to Rosehip Cottage and spotted one of the most unusual stone houses Sirius had ever seen. 

It was two stone houses, actually, sitting side by side. One was small and the other was even smaller. But that wasn’t what was so odd. The houses were connected in several places, including by a clear tube slide like you’d see at a waterpark, starting on the top floor of the small house and ending on the bottom floor of the bigger house. There was also a zipline and a rope bridge that connected between ground level windows, and what looked like an enclosed, above ground tunnel stretching between the houses’ walls. 

Sirius was staring at this oddity, when he heard a small gasp. A little boy, no more than six or seven years old, was staring right back at him from the houses’ garden, while a gray cat writhed in his arms. The cat seemed to have spotted Padfoot, who watched the panicking creature with his black head tilted curiously to one side. Finally, the cat yowled, squirmed free, and leapt away into the grass. 

“Moony!” the boy yelped, chasing after it before disappearing behind the smaller house. 

That was weird. The kid looked almost as though he recognized Sirius. But he couldn’t have. He was so young. Weren’t kids his age into Batman? Not “Sirius Eats?” 

The next morning, Sirius’s breakfast basket contained more incredible baked goods, along with a reply from the chef saying he had no formal culinary training but learned “the basics of French patisserie while working in restaurant kitchens and honed his technique through years of practice. YouTube helps, too. :-)” 

YouTube helps, too, Sirius read again, his eyes lingering over the adorable little smiley face. Not only was this person a baking savant, but they were cheeky and a little self-deprecating, too. Sirius was smitten. He ate every bite with his eyes closed, trying to identify and savor every flavor. There was brown butter along with bittersweet chocolate and orange zest in the scones, and there was definitely suet in the Cornish pasty shortcrust. Brilliant. 

Sirius’s heart raced as he dashed off another note. He wanted to know everything but held back his questions, asking only a few of the most important ones and telling the chef how unbelievably fucking talented he was. No, no, no… don’t write “fucking,” Sirius thought, and scribbled the word out until it was no longer legible. 

He spent another pleasant day hiking with Padfoot, and once again, saw the little boy and his cat playing in the garden. But this time the boy smiled, then waved. Sirius smiled and waved back, letting his gaze linger on the strange little adjoining houses as he walked past. What did they look like inside, he wondered? 

The next morning, Sirius was determined to get a glimpse of whoever delivered his breakfast basket. He gave Padfoot a hearty dog chew to keep him busy, then positioned himself stealthily on the couch by the window with his cup of coffee to keep watch. 

Then, at 8:33, a man approached Rosehip Cottage carrying a large basket. And holy shit, he was handsome. Tall and lanky, with soft, honey-brown curls and legs for fucking days. 

“God damn,” Sirius murmured. 

Sirius ducked down low, so he was only just peeking over the very edge of the couch as he watched the man climb the porch steps and drop the basket in front of the door. The man turned, and yep, his arse was nice, too. Well, this thickens the plot, Sirius thought, sitting up a little and moving the curtain aside to get a better look as the man walked away. He was just thinking about how nice those legs would feel wrapped around his bare waist when the man paused and turned back to look at the cottage, as though he could feel himself being watched.

“Shit!” Sirius said, sloshing his coffee onto his bathrobe and getting a crick in his neck as he frantically ducked down and flicked the curtains shut. A second later, Sirius chanced another glance outside, raising his head the tiniest bit in time to see the man push open the garden gate and walk away down the lane. He slumped backwards with a relieved sigh, rubbing the side of his sore neck. At least the man hadn’t seen Sirius being a creep. 

Sirius got on his knees and pressed his cheek to the cold windowpane until the man turned the corner back to the main inn. Apparently, any worries Sirius had about creepiness were now gone. 

Sirius grabbed his phone from the bedside table, opened the website for Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast, and scrolled until he found the “About Us” page. There, he saw what looked like a family photo of a stunningly beautiful blonde woman whose arm was around another woman with a cute, heart-shaped face and bubblegum pink curls. A much taller man, holding a baby on his hip, stood next to them. Sirius zoomed in and his stomach swooped pleasantly. That was him. The basket delivery man. Co-owner and chef, Remus Lupin. Sirius studied his face. He looked even better smiling and holding a baby. Had that baby grown into the little boy in the garden?

Then Sirius remembered the reason the man was here in the first place. He opened the front door and brought the basket inside. It smelled incredible. But for once in his life, the food could wait.

Sirius’s heart pounded as he pulled out the note. The tiny, chicken-scratch writing covered the entire bottom of the page and continued onto the back, and Sirius didn’t bother suppressing a smile as he read it. 

Thank you for your kind words! I’m feeling quite overwhelmed by them and extremely grateful that you’ve taken the time to share your thoughts. To answer your questions, I suppose yes, I do write my recipes, in the sense that I combine flavors and ingredients that I enjoy, and hope other people will, too. But I also know that most recipes rely on generations of practice and knowledge, trial and error, and tried and true methods, and that I’m merely the latest person to draw inspiration and skill from countless people who’ve come before me. In that sense, I’m not sure any recipe is truly original. I’ve heard people say the same thing about the ancient art of storytelling. The stories of what it means to be human are universal. They live in our bones, and every story has already been told. What changes are the people telling the stories and the way they tell them.

Second, yes, we do source most of our ingredients locally. A lot actually comes from the inn’s grounds. We use our own honey, eggs, and herbs year round. We have gardens in the spring, summer, and fall, and greenhouses in the winter where we source much of our produce, although not everything, of course. We also do a bit of foraging here on the grounds, which can be unpredictable, so we use those ingredients as they’re available. Our friend, Pete, runs a lovely little dairy just up the road, which supplies our milk, cream, and butter. Another farm nearby supplies our meats. The rest we source as locally as we can, although it’s not always easy for things like grains and spices, as I’m sure you know. Largely what you are tasting here, though, are the very specific flavors of our little corner of Northumberland. It’s terroir, but also something more. I like to imagine I can sense the people and love that nurtured it all, too.  

Finally, you’re right, I do use suet in the shortcrust, usually that I’ve rendered myself. It freezes beautifully, which makes it easy to keep it on hand and equally handy to use, since the colder the fat, the flakier the pastry. And I agree, people needn’t be afraid of suet. Shortening could never compare. 

Thank you again for asking. It means the world. I hope you enjoy today’s breakfast.

Have a wonderful day,

Remus 

Sirius looked up from the note with his heart somewhere in his throat. How was this man real? Not only was he a brilliant chef, but he spoke like a philosopher-poet, like the words and the food itself were pulled straight from his heart. 

Like the previous two days, Sirius spent hours hiking with Padfoot. But he returned to the inn’s grounds with a singular purpose, walking straight toward the strange little cottages, his eyes scanning the garden for the little boy.

Sure enough, there he was, sitting cross-legged on a wide, flat rock with his school backpack still on and flicking a stick with a leaf tied to the end over his cat’s head, making the animal jump and chase it around. Sirius and Padfoot approached the edge of the stone wall that separated the garden from the road. The boy looked up, and a bright smile bloomed across his face. 

“Hi!” the little boy said, his face shining with delight underneath honey-brown curls that stuck out from underneath his red knitted hat. “You’re Sirius Black, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” Sirius replied, no longer surprised. He had a feeling the boy recognized him from the moment they first saw each other. 

“I knew it! Is that your dog?” 

“Yup. His name is Padfoot.” 

“Can I pet him?” 

“Sure,” Sirius said. 

The little boy dropped the stick and came running over. He held out his hand to let Padfoot sniff it, then gently scratched behind his ears. 

“I knew you’d come,” the little boy said quietly, his eyes cast downward as he concentrated on petting Padfoot.

“Who?” Sirius asked.

“You.”

“You did?”  

“Mmm hmmm,” the boy nodded, running his little fingers gently over the top of Padfoot’s head. “Would you like to meet my daddy now?” 

Sirius stared at him. Was this kid psychic or something? 

“Is… is your daddy Remus Lupin by any chance?” Sirius asked.

“Yup!” the little boy nodded.

“Then, yeah, I’d love to meet him,” Sirius said. “If you don’t mind.” 

“Alright, let’s go!”  

The little boy scrambled over the stone wall and set off down the little gravel road, leading Sirius through the inn’s grounds and narrating everything they saw along the way. It was clear he had the run of the place, and a pang of longing struck Sirius’s heart. 

“Those are the greenhouses,” the little boy said, pointing to the left. “And that’s Alfie inside, he’s the sous chef. His hat’s name is Porkchop and it’s a Sagittarius. My Mummy’s gardens are back there. And the orchard. You can’t see it, but there’s a stream, too. I play in it sometimes with my friend Peyton. We tried to get Moony to play in it, too, but cats don’t like to get wet. There’s the rock that my Maman backed into with the excavator. She said lots of swears in French, and Mummy and Daddy said we needed to hire a contractor. Those are the hiking trails. That’s the road into the village. My school is down there. That’s Rosehip Cottage. Mummy says that’s where people stay if they’re feeling antisocial. That’s my friend Charlie, his mum is a housekeeper. Hi Charlie!” 

“Hi Teddy!” 

“And this is the inn!” the little boy—Teddy, apparently—announced with a flourish, raising his little arms above his head and stopping in front of a beautiful, ivy-covered stone house with a slate roof and a wooden sign above the door that read “Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast.” 

Teddy turned back to Sirius, then looked down at Padfoot.

“Daddy’s probably in the kitchen, and dogs can’t come in there. Is Padfoot an assistance dog?” 

“No.” 

“Oh. Then he can’t come into the dining room, either. He can only go in the guestrooms and the library.” 

“That’s alright, I can wait here.” 

“OK! I’ll be right back!” 

Teddy tore up the gravel drive at a run, his backpack still bouncing on his back. The front door opened and shut with a pleasant jangle of the welcome bell, and Sirius was alone, save for a few people out for a stroll across the meadow. Sirius followed in Teddy’s footsteps as he approached the front door, letting Padfoot sniff the moss-covered rocks and boxwood hedges that lined the walkway. Sirius’s stomach bubbled with anticipation and excitement as he waited. 

Finally, Teddy reappeared.

“Here he is, Mr. Black!” Teddy announced. “My daddy!” 

“Thanks, kid,” Sirius replied. Damn, Remus was even better looking up close, with big sturdy hands, a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow. 

Remus still wasn’t looking at him, though. He was looking down, zipping his jacket, and appearing a little busy and slightly put out at being dragged outside in the middle of the workday. 

“I just wanted to give my compliments to the chef in person,” Sirius said. It was half a greeting and half an apology for interrupting his work. 

At the sound of Sirius’s voice, Remus looked up, and his jaw dropped cartoonishly.

“Holy shit!” Remus said, his eyes wide. “You’re Sirius Black!” 

“Daddy!” Teddy cried. “Don’t swear at Sirius Black!” 

“Oh, shit, right! Sorry!” 

“Daddy!” 

Sirius burst out laughing.

“It’s alright,” he said, walking toward them and sticking out a hand for Remus to shake. Remus looked down at it, as if in slow motion, then back up at Sirius’s face, still looking shell shocked. He took Sirius’s hand and shook it, but continued to gape at him in confused wonder.

“I just…” Remus stammered, shaking his head and not letting go of Sirius’s hand. “You’re here. You’re really here.” 

“I told you he was here!” Teddy said. 

“I know you did,” Remus breathed, nodding and staring at Sirius, dumbfounded. “I… I mean… It’s just… It’s you, and… and I don’t… I don’t understand.” 

“I’ve been enjoying your breakfast baskets,” Sirius said, deciding to finally take pity on Remus and yank him back to reality. “And your letters.” 

“Letters?” Remus asked weakly, looking even more confused and finally dropping Sirius’s hand.

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded. “You’ve been telling me about your training and ingredients and food philosophy? Things like that?”

“I have?” Remus said. 

“Yes,” Sirius said slowly. “I’m staying in Rosehip Cottage.”

A wave of realization washed over Remus’s face. He gasped and pointed at Sirius. 

“Stubby!” he cried.

“What?” Sirius asked, the smile fading from his face. He took a small step back, suddenly worried that Remus wasn’t quite all there. Why was he yelling the word “stubby” at him?

“Stubby Boardman,” Remus said. “That’s the name you registered under.” 

“Oh, right!” Sirius laughed, relieved. “Actually, my friend, Lily, made the reservation for me. I forgot she didn’t use my real name. Anyhow, like I said, I really enjoyed reading—” 

“Oh, my god, those letters!” Remus groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. His cheeks flushed pink and a distressed little furrow creased his brow. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip for a second, looking mortified. It was fucking adorable, and Sirius was positively charmed. 

“I’m so sorry!” Remus continued, looking pained. “I had no idea that was you! Ugh, those letters, they were so painfully earnest, and—”

“No! They were incredible,” Sirius cut him off, and Remus’s eyes found Sirius’s. They looked at each other for a second, and a strange something squeezed inside Sirius’s chest. 

“They were?” Remus asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Sirius replied. “I mean your food is obviously wonderful, but the way you think about it and write about it? It’s beautiful and elegant and thought provoking. I really wanted to meet you in person.”

“Oh.”  

“I was hoping you could show me around your kitchen and the grounds.” 

At this Remus just stared at him, positively dumbfounded. 

“Daddy, say something,” Teddy whispered, his eyes wide, trying not to move his lips too much. 

“Macarons,” Remus blurted out. 

“What?” Sirius asked. 

“Fuck,” Remus hissed, shutting his eyes again.

“Daddy!” Teddy scolded again.

Remus took a deep breath, then steadied himself and opened his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve entered an alternate timeline and that my skin is melting off my face,” Remus said matter-of-factly, and Sirius suppressed a laugh. “But I promise, I am very normal most of the time. We are just big fans of your work, and I’m utterly gobsmacked to see you here—” 

“But daddy, I told you!” 

“Even though my son told me you were here,” Remus agreed. “This is my son, Teddy, by the way.” 

“We’ve already met, daddy!” 

“Right, you’ve already met. What I’m trying to say,” Remus continued, “is that I’m filling macarons in the kitchen.” 

“What kind?” Sirius asked. 

“Lemon.” 

“Can I help?” 

“Help?” 

“Yeah. I know how to fill macarons.” 

“Oh, yes. I’ve… I’ve seen you do it,” Remus nodded, his eyes flicking down to Sirius’s hands, and Sirius thought he saw a little pink flush stain Remus’s cheeks. He was unspeakably cute, good lord. 

“So what do you say?” Sirius asked. “Can I give you a hand?”

“A hand?” Remus repeated.

“He’ll do a good job, Daddy!” Teddy said. 

“I really will,” Sirius nodded. “I promise.” 

“He promises!” Teddy said, gazing up at his father. Hell of a wingman, this kid, Sirius thought. 

“Well, if you promise,” Remus said with a nervous laugh. “Then, I guess… yes. I will take your hand. I mean… shit, you know what I mean.” 

“Daddy!” 

Chapter Text

Remus felt both oddly weightless and hyper aware of every clodding step as he led Sirius Black—SIRIUS FUCKING BLACK!—into the inn. His hands felt like sweaty bricks, and he didn’t know where to put them. He kept shoving them in and out of the pockets of his flour-dusted black work pants as they walked through the library and into the empty breakfast room. No one spared them a glance, which Remus was grateful for. 

“Should I leave my jacket and stuff in here?” Sirius asked, stopping in front of the kitchen door. 

Remus turned around just as Sirius pulled off his wool peacoat and black beanie, and oh my, Teddy was right. Sirius had had a haircut. His usually shoulder-length black hair was cropped short, accentuating his sharply cut jaw and the tattoos on his neck and the broadness of his shoulders, and… Fuck, he was almost hard to look at. Just blindingly, stupidly handsome.

Because as handsome as Sirius Black was on television, it was nothing—nothing—to what he looked like in real life. Standing face to face with him, Remus finally understood what people meant by the phrase, “star quality.” Because Sirius Black had an aura. A glow. A dazzling, blinding charisma sparkling off him with every word, every smile, every movement. 

“Oh, yeah,” Remus said, and pointed to one of the dining tables. His tongue felt thick and weird. Was he even speaking English anymore? “You can just leave it on the back of that chair if you want.” 

Remus realized in that moment that he, too, still had his jacket on. He pulled it off, feeling as awkward as if he was peeling away his own skin, and dropped it on another chair. Then he looked back up at Sirius, who was dressed just as Teddy said he’d been, in black jeans, boots, and a navy blue crew neck jumper. Navy today, red yesterday, gray the day before. A lot of money, a lot of jumpers, Remus thought, and he swallowed down a nervous little laugh. 

He’d never doubt his son again.

“Alright, well, kitchen’s this way,” Remus said, and led them through the swinging door. 

Everything was just as he’d left it, down to the music playing. “Where Is My Mind” by the Pixies had just started. Remus reached for the speaker to turn it off, when Sirius spoke. 

“I love this song,” Sirius said. “I actually met Kim Deal a couple of years ago.” 

“Wait, really?” Remus asked, forgetting for a moment to be nervous. “I was obsessed with The Breeders when I was in school.” 

“Me too,” Sirius nodded. “And she was really cool. Very chill, very down to earth. She signed a couple of records for me.”

“Wow,” Remus said, shaking his head in awe as he pulled his apron on and tied it around his waist. “What I wouldn’t give for a signed copy of ‘Last Splash.’” 

“I can give you one, if you want,” Sirius said easily. He seemed to be making himself at home, crossing to the linen rack and grabbing an apron. 

“What? No! You don’t have to do that,” Remus said with an incredulous laugh, watching Sirius pull the apron tie around his waist, then back to the front, where he knotted it twice, as though he was a greasy line cook and not the most famous TV chef in Britain. 

“It’s no big deal. She gave me three of them,” Sirius shrugged, as if this truly was no big deal. He pushed up his sleeves, washed his hands, then looked around at the trays of half-filled macarons lining the stainless steel counter. “Shall we get to work, then?” 

Remus’s hands shook slightly as he filled another piping bag with the lemon buttercream and handed it to Sirius, who immediately thanked him and bent over the macarons, expertly piping the loveliest little swirls onto each half. Remus watched him for a few seconds, but soon got to work, too. 

“Your place is beautiful,” Sirius said without looking up. “How long have you owned it?” 

“Coming up on five years. And we’ve been open for almost three,” Remus said, and found that talking wasn’t nearly as nerve wracking when his hands were busy. “We own the business and the buildings but the land is part of a preservation trust, which has an agriculture requirement for business owners. The buildings were in pretty rough shape, and most buyers weren’t interested in the farming bit, so we got it all for dirt cheap.” 

“Wow,” Sirius said. “Must’ve been a lot of work.” 

“It was a ton of work,” Remus nodded. “It was good, though, because we signed the paperwork right before the pandemic, so while everyone was stuck inside, we were busy renovating. We had our grand opening just as people were really excited to start traveling again.”

“So business is good, then?” 

“Yeah, it’s really good. It’s been nonstop busy, pretty much since we opened,” Remus said, pausing a little to marvel at that fact. It wasn’t something he said out loud very often. Or ever, really. But it was true. And still kind of unbelievable, Remus thought.

“I believe that,” Sirius said, as though reading Remus’s mind. “This place is gorgeous and you’re incredibly talented.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, his neck flushing again. “I love what I do.” 

“I can tell,” Sirius said, glancing sideways at him. Remus could feel his gaze, but kept his own eyes trained on the macarons. He didn’t trust himself not to turn into a blithering mess again the second he looked at Sirius. 

“So, what brings you up here?” Remus asked, eager to turn the subject away from one where Sirius Black was complimenting him. 

“I just needed to get away,” Sirius said softly, looking back down at the macarons. “I wanted someplace quiet. Where people would leave me alone.” 

Remus’s hand stilled over an unfilled macaron. He didn’t really know what to say. He’d had a small taste of what it was like to be pursued and terrorized, and he’d fought back, the only way he knew how. But he was a kid then. His life now was quiet and pleasantly anonymous. 

He wondered if Sirius was fighting back, too. 

“I promise, we’ll leave you alone,” Remus replied, then took a deep breath and made himself look up at Sirius with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He was just a person, and he wanted to be treated like one. 

When he did, he found that Sirius was already looking at him. 

“Well… I don’t want everyone to leave me alone,” Sirius said with a little half smirk that made Remus’s skin tingle and buzz. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Remus said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. “Teddy is a superfan.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” Sirius laughed. “Not many six-year-olds know who I am.” 

“First of all, don’t let him hear you say he’s six, because he is seven,” Remus corrected, and Sirius laughed. “And second, he just idolizes you. In fact, I bought him Sirius Black merch not two days ago.” 

“Really?” Sirius asked.

“I saw your logo bumper sticker and decided to buy him one to decorate his recipe binder,” Remus told him.

“OK, him having a recipe binder is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Sirius said. “But also please don’t think I’m a gigantic douche for driving around with my own logo on my car. My best mate thought it would be a laugh to put it on, and now I can’t get the thing off.” 

“Well, Batman drives around with his logo on his car, too, and nobody thinks he’s a douche,” Remus said before he could stop himself. “As long as you don’t start calling it the Blackmobile, I think you’re good.” 

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, barking sound that made Remus laugh along with him. Remus didn’t mean to make a weird Batman joke, but he kept temporarily forgetting that he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Sirius Black. 

“And he’s funny, too,” Sirius said thoughtfully, half to Remus and half to himself, tilting his head to look at him again. Remus didn’t know what to say, so he quietly continued his piping. 

“So,” Sirius continued, “is, umm, Teddy’s mum involved in the business?” 

“Yeah, she is, actually,” Remus nodded. 

“Oh,” Sirius replied, a little more quietly, then turned back to filling the macarons. “What’s it like working with your partner?” 

“She’s not my partner,” Remus said. 

“Ex?” Sirius asked, his eyebrows raised. 

“Nope,” Remus said with an awkward laugh. He wasn’t sure how much to say. He was proud of his family, but this was Sirius fucking Black. Did he really care about this? 

“OK,” Sirius said, once again seeming to read Remus’s mind. “You’re leaving me hanging here with these tantalizing bits and not filling in the blanks. Were you friends with benefits or something? What’s the situation?” 

“Are you sure I’m not boring you?” Remus winced. “Do you really want to know?” 

“Remus, I haven’t talked to anyone but my dog for three days,” Sirius said. “And you’re a hell of a lot better conversationalist than he is. Please, yes, tell me. I’m actually dying to know the origin story of your amazing kid.” 

“Alright, well… me and my two best friends really wanted to have children,” Remus said. “I had just come out of a long-term relationship with someone who wasn’t ready for parenthood, and I really desperately wanted to be a dad. And my friends wanted to be mums. So we decided to do it together. I’m Teddy’s biological father, and my friend, Tonks, is his biological mum. And my other friend, Fleur, Tonks’s wife, carried the baby. So we did IVF, implanted the embryos into Fleur, and ta-da! Teddy has three parents.” 

“Wow. Lucky kid. I didn’t even have one decent parent, let alone three,” Sirius replied. 

“He definitely has no shortage of love,” Remus agreed. 

“So, are you three… you and Teddy’s mums… together?” Sirius ventured, and Remus shook his head. 

“No,” he said. 

“Never?” Sirius asked. 

“Never,” Remus said. “They’re not into men, and I’m not into women.” 

Sirius paused and looked up at him for a second before continuing his piping. 

“You’re not?” 

“Well, Jessica Rabbit made me feel a little confused once when I was, like, nine,” Remus said, and Sirius laughed again. “But otherwise, it’s been all men, all the time.” 

“All men, all the time, huh?” Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Sounds busy.” 

“Well, much less busy since we moved to Northumberland, I’ll tell you that,” Remus admitted with a rueful laugh, and again, he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Sirius fucking Black.

“Do you all live together?” Sirius asked. 

“Kind of,” Remus said. “Our houses are right next door to each other, but adjoining. So Teddy feels like he has one enormous house and can come and go as he pleases, but the grownups still have their privacy. I mean, they need alone time in their marriage. And I’d need privacy, too, for all those hypothetical men I’d bring home. Besides, Tonks and Fleur don't want me wandering round their house in my knickers.”

“Their loss,” Sirius shrugged with a small smile. 

Remus’s stomach swooped and he froze. Was… was Sirius Black flirting with him? 

No. No! Of course he wasn’t, for a million different reasons, not the least of which was because he was Sirius Fucking Goddamn Black. And hadn’t he just released a public statement saying he wasn’t gay? 

But still… what if? 

Oh my god stop! You need to relax, you’re imagining it, there’s no way! He probably dates models and movie stars! Just stay calm, take deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth... 

“Ahh, shit,” Remus muttered, squeezing the piping bag too hard and sending a thick ribbon of buttercream spurting across the metal countertop. 

“That’s quite a grip you’ve got there,” Sirius laughed, eyeing the sweet cream before looking up at Remus.

“I don’t know what happened, I just got a little too…” Remus sputtered, looking around for a rag. 

“Eager?” Sirius asked, gazing at Remus with that dazzling, dangerous grin of his. Fuck, Remus was going to faint. 

“Mmmm,” Remus nodded, not trusting himself to make normal words anymore.

“That’s alright. Just an excuse to have a taste,” Sirius said, then proceeded to make things a thousand times worse by leaning across Remus and dragging his tattooed index finger through the sticky sweet icing. His tongue flicked out, and he licked his finger, then closed his lips around the knuckle and sucked it clean. 

“Ugh, so good,” Sirius said, closing his eyes with a little moan. “That lemon flavor is just fucking awesome.” 

Remus’s brain felt like a motherboard dunked in a bathtub. Cannot compute. 

But he had to compute. He couldn’t just stand there like some simpleminded doofus. 

“I love lemons,” Remus replied.

Oh, yes, that was much better than silence. 

“I love lemons, too!” Sirius said earnestly. “It’s such a simple, clean, fresh flavor, and I really appreciate that you didn’t try to do too much with it in the buttercream. You don’t have to dress it up! Sometimes you have to let a star flavor really sing, unadorned. Like an acapella choir.” 

Sirius leaned across Remus again, and good lord, did he smell amazing. He licked one more dollop of buttercream off his finger with another appreciative little moan, then once again made himself at home, finding the cleaning supplies to quickly mop up the spill and sanitize the counter himself. 

“It’s so nice being in a well-organized kitchen,” Sirius said, washing his hands again. “Everything is where it’s supposed to be. The TV crew is always messing with the layout of my kitchen set. Let’s put a camera in the fridge, let’s put a camera in the oven. Let’s fucking not!” 

“Now I’m imagining a tiny cameraman in the fridge, too, just crouching behind the eggs and scaring the shit out of me every time I open the door,” Remus blurted out before he let his brain overanalyze his reply. God, why did he keep being himself and forgetting to be nervous?

But Sirius laughed again.

“Thanks, now I’m going to be imagining that, too,” Sirius said. He stepped back from the table, put his hands on his hips, and surveyed the trays in front of them.

“Alright,” he said. “Ready to get topping?” 

Remus choked on spit. 

“What?” he sputtered. 

“The macarons?” Sirius said, the ghost of a smirk on his face. “We’re done filling them, so—” 

“Yes!” Remus said, nodding too vigorously. “Top them. Right. Like putting the tops on the…”

Remus’s cheeks burned as his voice trailed away.

“Top?” Sirius finished for him.

“Yeah,” Remus breathed, suddenly hoping those aliens they found in the ocean would snatch him up and put him out of his misery. 

“Yeah,” Sirius repeated, and got to work. 

Remus was just getting a hold of himself when Alfie backed into the kitchen, opening the swinging door with a backwards bump of his arse, his arms full of boxes of fresh vegetables and herbs from the greenhouse. 

“OK, new theory about Stubby Boardman,” Alfie announced with his back to the kitchen. “He’s a mole!” 

“Alfie,” Remus said, but Alfie kept talking. 

“An evil mole from a rival inn who’s flattering you for information before initiating a hostile takeover, and Oh my god, that’s Sirius Black!” 

“Hi,” Sirius said. 

“Alfie, Sirius is staying at Rosehip Cottage,” Remus said, begging Alfie with his eyes to please, please stay calm and also maybe take off Porkchop, just this once. 

“Are you friends with Stubby Boardman?” Alfie asked Sirius, his eyes narrowing accusatorially. 

“Alfie, Sirius is Stubby Boardman,” Remus said. 

“So you’re the mole,” Alfie hissed. 

“Alfie, can I see you outside?” Remus asked, yanking the boxes out of Alfie’s arms, and dragging him through the swinging kitchen door into the empty dining room while Sirius laughed behind them. As soon as they were alone, Remus rounded on him.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded. 

“I’m trying to protect this place!” Alfie said. 

“He’s not a mole! He registered under a fake name to get away from weirdos,” Remus said pointedly. 

“Are you implying that I am among the weirdos?” Alfie asked, pressing an offended hand to his heart. 

“You are veering in that direction, yes,” Remus replied. 

“Wow,” Alfie said, folding his arms across his chest.

“He just wants a quiet holiday,” Remus said. “Stop calling him a mole.” 

“Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on him,” Alfie said, pointing at the kitchen door. 

“Please don’t.” 

“I haven’t ruled out stalker yet, either,” Alfie continued, then looked around, leaned forward, and dropped his voice. “If he ends up wearing your skin as a suit, don’t come crying to me.” 

They walked back into the kitchen and stood in silence for a moment before Alfie fixed Sirius with a cold stare. 

“Do you trust the government?” he asked, and Remus groaned internally. 

“I’m going to walk Sirius back to his cottage,” Remus told Alfie, untying his apron and tossing it into the hamper. He needed to get Sirius out of there. “Can you put away the macarons and stuff? And then you can just take the afternoon off.” 

“But I still need to—” Alfie started, but Remus cut him off. 

“No, no, Isla needs you,” Remus insisted.

“Oh! Speaking of Isla!” Alfie said, turning to Sirius cheerily. “She loves you, Mr. Black! Can we do a selfie? She’s been barfing for like, two weeks straight, and I think sending her a picture of you would really brighten her afternoon!” 

A few minutes later, Sirius and Remus were crossing the inn’s front garden. The sun was already dipping low in the sky, painting the rolling hills and stone buildings with a soft, golden glow. 

“Sorry about Alfie,” Remus said. “He’s running on no sleep. His girlfriend is pregnant, and she’s been sick every day, and… you know what? I can’t even blame it on that. He’s strange all the time.” 

“Eh, that’s just restaurant people,” Sirius laughed. “They’re a different breed. I’m glad he has Porkchop to help him through it all.” 

“How the hell do you know about Porkchop?” Remus exclaimed, once again forgetting to filter himself. What was happening? 

“Teddy told me,” Sirius said. “He gave me a really comprehensive tour. He also told me that the hat is a Sagittarius.” 

“Its birthday was last week,” Remus said. “We had cupcakes.” 

Sirius laughed again, then shook his head.

“This place sounds like so much fun,” Sirius said, looking out over the orchards and hiking trails. “It’s like… it’s like you’ve made this little utopia where everyone can kind of just be themselves.” 

Remus had never thought of it that way before, but of course, Sirius was right. 

“Thank you,” Remus said. “That’s very nice of you to say.” 

“Well, it feels nice,” Sirius said quietly. “Like freedom, or….” 

Remus looked sideways at Sirius, who was still gazing all around them at the sweeping land. He waited, feeling like Sirius wanted to say more. But he didn’t want to pry. 

“So, do you have plans up here? Things you want to see and do during your stay?” Remus asked. 

“Not really,” Sirius admitted. “I booked it last minute and didn’t think about anything beyond getting as far away from London as I could. Things were getting a little out of control.” 

Remus didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what Sirius meant. Was it the gay rumor? Remus thought that had been squashed. 

“Really? I’m sorry,” Remus said. 

“Wait,” Sirius said, looking sideways at Remus. “You don’t know?” 

“I’m not sure,” Remus said, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t think so. Should I? I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m relieved!” Sirius said. “It’s nice to find someone who doesn’t know—or think they know—every detail about my life.” 

“I mean, I am a fan of your show!” Remus clarified. “I just don’t really keep up on celebrity gossip.” 

“Good,” Sirius replied. “Most of the time it’s not true anyhow.” 

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you’re alright,” Remus told him.

“Thank you,” Sirius said, and he sounded incredibly genuine. “It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I tried to punch a photographer. They were chasing me and harassing me; camping out outside my flat and my office; yelling awful things to try to get me to react. And it worked, I’m embarrassed to say.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I would’ve punched him, too,” Remus said. 

“Yeah, and I bet you wouldn’t have missed,” Sirius replied. 

“No, probably not,” Remus agreed. He’d done enough fighting to know that. 

They rounded a little bend in the road and Remus’s house came into view. Teddy was in the garden playing with Padfoot while Tonks watched from a chair, all bundled up under a blanket. Remus had texted her to come get the dog (SIRIUS BLACK IS REALLY HERE AND I NEED YOU AT THE INN TO TAKE HIS DOG THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!!) and she’d come immediately, no questions asked. 

“OK, now I can ask you about the thing I’ve been dying to know for days,” Sirius said, his eyes raking over the cottages and the slide, zipline, and rope bridge. “What’s with the ropes course?” 

“Huh? Oh!” Remus laughed. He was so used to it all, he barely even noticed it anymore. “That’s for Teddy. That’s a slide that goes from his bedroom to the living room of my cottage. And that’s a zipline and rope bridge for him to go between the houses, too.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s incredible,” Sirius marveled, staring at it in wonder. “What a life you’ve given him. That slide looks so fun!” 

“You should try it,” Remus told him.

“Really?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, why not?” 

“Is it strong enough for an adult?” 

“Of course,” Remus said. “It’s very structurally sound and completely safe.” 

“Well, I mean…if it’s alright with Teddy,” Sirius said. 

“Honestly, he’d probably offer you his bed, too,” Remus said. 

As though on cue, Teddy spotted them and came tearing across the garden, with Padfoot on his heels. 

“We’ve been playing fetch!” Teddy cried. “Padfoot’s really good at it! This is his favorite stick.” 

And he handed Sirius a long, slobbery stick.

“Oh, thank you,” Sirius said, taking it from him. “I’ll be sure to use it next time we play.” 

“You’re welcome!” Teddy said, then turned to Remus. “Daddy, can Sirius stay for supper?” 

“Ummm… I’m not sure if Sirius wants to stay for supper, Teddy,” Remus said carefully, not wanting to put either Sirius or his son in an awkward position. “He might be tired or have other plans or…” 

But Teddy wasn’t looking at Remus. He was looking at Sirius. 

“He doesn’t have other plans,” Teddy said, and Remus’s head whipped around in time to see Sirius giving Teddy a sneaky little smile. 

“No, he doesn't,” Sirius agreed. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“What’s impose?” Teddy asked. 

Remus started to answer, but Sirius beat him to it. 

“That’s when you kind of barge in without people really wanting you there,” Sirius answered.  

“We want you here!” Teddy insisted. “Tell him, Daddy!” 

“Yes, of… of course,” Remus stammered. “If you’d like to stay we’d love to have you.” 

“See?” Teddy said. “Daddy would love to have you!” 

“Well, that’s good,” Sirius replied, with a small smile, “because I’d love for Daddy to have me.” 

Chapter Text

Remus had never actually had a mouthful of sawdust before. But thanks to Sirius, he now had the general idea of what it would feel like. How could a human mouth be this dry? I’d love for Daddy to have me? Was Sirius trying to kill him? 

“What’s Daddy going to have?” Tonks asked, walking up behind Teddy and putting a gentle arm around his shoulders. She looked at Remus with an expression that said, Did I just hear what I think I heard?

“He’s gonna have Mr. Black!” Teddy replied, looking up at her with wide, happy eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that,” Tonks replied with a wicked grin toward Remus, then turned to Sirius and stuck out her hand for him to shake. “Hi. I’m Tonks. I’m Teddy’s Mum.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sirius replied. “Remus was just showing me around a bit, and Teddy invited me to stay for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Of course not!” Tonks said. “As long as you don’t mind that it’s leftover night.” 

“That’s my favorite night,” Sirius replied.

Tonks was just opening her mouth to answer, when she glanced at Remus.

“Rem? Are you alright?” she asked.

“Just… water,” Remus choked out, putting a hand to his throat and tapping a few times. All the liquid seemed to have been temporarily siphoned from his body. 

“Oh, here. I have some,” Sirius said. He pulled a water bottle from his backpack and held it out to Remus. 

Remus stared at the bottle, then back up at Sirius. He tried to say thank you, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Thnnnnk,” he said instead, then raised the bottle to his lips with a slosh as Tonks bit back a laugh.

“Thank you,” Remus said once he could speak again. He handed the water bottle back to Sirius and, for some reason, kept talking. “It’s dry—very dry—here in the north this time of year. They think it’s… you know… climate change or something.” 

“That’s terrible,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “Does it affect your crops?” 

“No,” Remus replied. 

“Oh,” Sirius frowned. 

“It affects me. Mostly. Just me. Some humans are oddly sensitive to barometric variations, and my doctor believes—” 

“Sirius, would you like to come inside?” Tonks interjected, and Remus had never loved her more. She was saving him from himself. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Sirius replied. “Do you mind if I use your loo?” 

“Of course not!” Tonks replied. “Mi baño es tu baño.” 

“Gracias,” Sirius said with a laugh.

“Come on, Mr. Black! I’ll show you where it is!” Teddy said, and grabbed Sirius by the hand. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Sirius replied, allowing Teddy to lead him and Padfoot into the house. “And call me Sirius.”

“Ok, Sirius!”

“Now, what’s this I hear about a recipe binder?”

Remus watched them walk away with his heart hovering somewhere around his pancreas. Good lord, as though he wasn’t already about to faint, now Sirius was holding his son’s hand and listening intently while Teddy told him all about his recipe binder. 

Tonks linked arms with Remus and yanked him toward her. 

“Holy shit, he’s hot!” she hissed into Remus’s ear.

“Yes, Tonks, I am aware,” Remus breathed back. 

“I might have to reassess my life choices,” Tonks said, looking Sirius up and down from behind. “Have you seen his arse?” 

“He’s a guest!” Remus said haughtily. “Of course I haven’t looked at his arse!”

“You’re lying!”  

Remus let out a whimper of defeat. 

“I am lying!” he said, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “His arse is beautiful. Just like the rest of him.” 

“You drank from his water bottle,” Tonks sighed. “Now you’re one degree removed from his lips. Does it kind of feel like you French kissed?”

“Oh, my god, will you shut up!” 

Tonks let out a loud laugh, and Sirius turned to look at them, giving Remus an insanely gorgeous, smoldering smile before turning away again. 

“And he’s flirting with you,” Tonks added. “You do know that, right? You are very stupid about this stuff. Historically speaking.”

“Stop it. No he’s not.” 

“Remus, he said he wanted you to have him,” Tonks said. “What the hell else could that mean?” 

“That he’s grateful for a dinner invitation,” Remus insisted. 

“No one is that excited for leftover night,” Tonks said. 

“He didn’t know it was leftover night when he said yes to dinner,” Remus countered. “And besides, you’re the one who told me he’s not gay!” 

“That statement of his was bullshit,” Tonks said. “He is gay as hell and wants a piece of—”

“Daddy!” Teddy called from the back porch. “Come on!” 

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Tonks laughed, turning back to Remus. 

“Even if he is gay—which he’s not!—he is absolutely not flirting with me. I’m not his type.” 

“Yes, right. I completely forgot how universally unappealing tall, talented, funny, good looking men are. Sorry about that,” Tonks said. 

“You left out awkward, gangly, weird, prone to rambling, and obsessed with wild yeast.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Tonks shrugged.

“It’s impossible!” Remus hissed.

“Why is it impossible?”  

“Mummy! Daddy!” Teddy called again.

“Coming!” Remus yelled back.

“Hopefully right into Sirius’s beautiful arse,” Tonks added in a whispered snort of a laugh.

“I’m going to kill you,” Remus whispered back, and they followed Sirius and Teddy into the house. 

“Can I help you with anything?” Sirius asked, emerging into the kitchen from the bathroom a few minutes later as Tonks pulled containers of leftovers out of the fridge. 

“I’m just microwaving,” she replied, then caught Remus’s eye, a sneaky little smile crossing her face. She looked back at Sirius and pointed to the counter. 

“Actually,” she said, “would you open that bottle of wine and pour some for Remus? He’s knackered. Macaron day is a bitch. You can pour a glass for yourself, too, of course.” 

“Sure,” Sirius said.

“Corkscrew’s right in the drawer there, glasses are in the cabinet to your left,” she said. “Then once you’ve got the vino poured, why don’t the two of you go sit in front of the fire? I’ve got dinner under control.” 

“No, Tonks, I can’t let you—” Remus started, but Tonks shook her head. 

“You look dead on your feet, Rem,” she insisted. “Just go be a good host. Dinner will be ready in about a half hour.” 

“Who are we to argue?” Sirius asked, pouring Remus a glass of wine and handing it to him. Then he poured one for himself and lifted it in the air. 

“To never skipping dessert,” Sirius said, meeting Remus’s eyes with a small smile that made Remus’s stomach flip pleasantly.  

“Cheers,” Remus replied, and clinked their glasses together before taking a long sip. He needed some liquid courage. Then, he nodded toward the living room and led Sirius to the couch in front of the fire, where Padfoot was curled up, fast asleep, on the hearthrug.

“He’s already so comfortable here,” Sirius said quietly, a trace of wonder in his voice, as he reached down to gently pet the dog’s soft black head. “And he’s exhausted. I’ve had him hiking with me every day since I arrived.” 

“I was wondering how you’ve been spending your time,” Remus said. “Well, not you, exactly. Stubby Boardman.” 

“Ah, yes, good old Stubby,” Sirius laughed. “He does come in handy sometimes.” 

“I’d imagine so. How’d you come up with that name?” 

“That would be the work of my best mate,” Sirius said.

“The same best mate who’s responsible for the douchey bumper sticker?” Remus asked, and instantly his face heated. There he goes again, not bothering to be nervous. What was happening? 

But Sirius only laughed. 

“The very same,” he replied. “He said it was the least-sexy name he could think of.” 

“Actually, I think ‘Stubby Tooth Decay’ is the world’s least-sexy name,” Remus said, and Sirius snorted a laugh. “You should’ve gone with that.”  

“What a missed opportunity,” Sirius said, still laughing. “So, is ‘Tooth Decay’ hyphenated? Or is ‘Tooth’ my middle name?” 

“It’s hyphenated, of course,” Remus said. “The result of the world’s most unfortunate marriage.” 

Sirius threw his head back and laughed again.

“Holy shit, I just love you, Remus,” he said, and Remus felt his heart lurch to a stop, then start up again with wild abandon. Could hearts beat backwards and in circles? Because if so, that’s what his was doing. 

Before Remus could choke out an answer, though, Teddy came tearing down the stairs. He leapt over the arm of the couch, and landed with a bounce in between Remus and Sirius. 

“Here’s my recipe binder!” Teddy said, his face shining with pride and excitement as he snuggled in between them.

“Ah, yes, thank you for showing me!” Sirius said, his voice sounding just as excited as Teddy’s, and Remus realized with a flutter in his chest that Sirius must have asked to see it. 

Sirius leaned forward to put his wine on the coffee table and eagerly settled in as Teddy opened the binder across all three of their laps and started turning the pages. 

“These are the best ice cream sandwiches ever! And these are my favorite butterscotch blondies!” Teddy said, pointing down at each recipe, which he’d written in crayon. “Daddy makes them on Saturdays. And this is the recipe for chocolate mug cakes. I’m allowed to make those by myself because they’re baked in the microwave. I’m not allowed to use the stove yet.” 

“Soon, though, right?” Sirius asked, ruffling Teddy’s hair. 

“Right!”

He showed Sirius the drawings he made to go along with each recipe, too, of cupcakes topped with swirling mounds of pink icing, banana splits with a cherry on top, and breakfast toast slathered with jam and peanut butter. There were drawings of Remus, Tonks, Fleur, Moony, Peyton, and Charlie, too, all eating their favorite desserts. Moony was eating a cake topped with a fish. 

“These recipes are wonderful!” Sirius said, leaning forward to get a closer look at Teddy’s drawing of the birthday cake he decorated for Fleur last year. “Did you write them yourself?” 

“Some of them!” Teddy said, looking up at Sirius as though he’d hung the stars. “I wrote the ‘Sirius Eats Night Popcorn’ recipe and the ‘Late for School Toast’ recipe. Oh, and the ‘Fancy Egg in A Frame’ recipe, too. But most of the really good ones are my daddy’s.” 

“Hmm, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Sirius said, looking up at Remus over the top of Teddy’s head with a sweet smile before turning back to Teddy. “Will you make something for me soon? I’d love to sample your baking.” 

“Yes!” Teddy cried. “But I might need help. With knives and fire and stuff.” 

“I’d love to help you,” Sirius told him. “I’m very good with knives and fire and stuff.” 

“Do you still want to go down my slide?” Teddy asked, bouncing a little now and still gazing up at Sirius like he was his grandest wish come true. And, oh, Sirius must have asked Teddy about his slide, too, Remus thought with a flutter. 

“As long as you don’t mind sharing it with me,” Sirius said. 

“I don’t mind! Come on!” Teddy replied, jumping up and grabbing Sirius and Remus each by the hand, pulling them up off the couch, and leading them upstairs to his bedroom. They crossed the room—past Teddy’s bed with the pirate bedspread, past his orange bean bag chair—to the little round slide door. He lifted the latch, swung the door open, then pressed the intercom button.

“Mummy! Mummy!” he called. 

“Roger, Teddy, I hear you loud and clear,” Tonks’s voice replied, crackling through the intercom. 

“Incoming!” Teddy said.

“Maman just got home. I’ll text her and send her to Daddy’s to open the door,” Tonks replied, and Teddy looked up at Sirius with a somber expression.

“It’s important to keep the slide doors closed when we’re not using them. To keep out drafts,” Teddy explained. “Because heat costs money, and money doesn’t grow on trees.” 

“Ahhh. Very wise,” Sirius nodded, catching Remus’s eye with an adorable wink. Remus thought he might float away. 

“Ready for takeoff!” came Fleur’s voice next.

“Roger that!” Teddy replied, then looked at Sirius again. “Do you want to go first?” 

“Umm, why don’t you go first,” Sirius said, sounding a bit nervous as he peered through the door and into the dark slide. “You can show me how it’s done.” 

“OK!” Teddy said, then kicked off his trainers. “You should take your shoes off, too. It’ll help you go faster. See you at the bottom!” 

Then, in a flash, he scrambled feet first through the door and disappeared down the slide with a shouted “wheeeee!” of delight. 

“Anything else I should know?” Sirius asked Remus, approaching the door in his stocking feet after Teddy called the all-clear through the intercom below. 

“One in 18 people have a third nipple,” Remus blurted out, then let out a hysterical little laugh. He wanted to slap himself, yet again, even though Sirius was laughing, too. 

“Are you one of them?” Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow and tilting his head to one side with a curious little smirk.

“No, sorry.” 

“What a shame. Though I suppose I can make do with just the two,” Sirius replied with a cheeky grin, then squatted onto the floor, eased his legs into the tube, and pushed off down the slide with a wild whoop that echoed through Teddy’s empty bedroom. 

*********************

Sirius felt Teddy’s bedroom floor slip away and his stomach swoop as he pushed off down the winding, slippery slide with a cry of delight. His hair whipped in the breeze while he twisted and turned through the dark, rolling landscape that stretched out as far as the eye could see all around him. Flying through the clear, plastic tube felt surreal and exhilarating, as though he was zooming through the air on a broomstick or a flying motorbike or something. He craned his neck, gazing upward, as he whizzed beneath the twinkling blanket of stars, which were just popping to life in the inky blue twilight. His eyes landed on the waxing crescent moon, thinking that he’d never before felt this free, and the next second, he was being spit out into a dimly lit room where he landed on a wide, fat cushion with a soft thump. 

He barely had time to register his surroundings when a thickly French accented voice spoke above him.

“Holy shit! You’re Sirius Black!” 

“Maman!” Teddy scolded. 

Sirius looked up in time to see the shocked face of one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. She was tall and willowy, with long, silvery blonde hair and dark blue eyes that shone like sapphires. She wore a trimly cut pink pencil skirt, a crisp white button-down blouse, and sky-high stilettos.  

“Sorry to surprise you,” Sirius said, getting to his feet rather sheepishly. “I thought Tonks or Teddy might have told you I was here. You must be Fleur.” 

“Oui,” Fleur replied, then quickly regained herself, putting her shoulders back and lifting her chin with a haughty little sniff. She stood imperiously, without a trace of being starstruck. 

“Fleur Delacour,” she said, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and putting out a regal hand. Sirius wasn’t sure if he should shake it or kiss it. He decided to take a chance and chose the latter, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. 

“Charmed,” Sirius said with a delicate kiss and nod of his head. “Thank you for welcoming me into your beautiful home.” 

“I haven’t welcomed you yet,” Fleur corrected, arching an eyebrow coolly, but Sirius saw a trace of a smile cross her face. “I see you’ve already met my son?”

“Sirius is staying for dinner, Maman!” Teddy told her. “He said leftover night is his favorite night!” 

“How nice,” Fleur replied, brushing Teddy’s hair back, then bending down to kiss his forehead. “Did you have a good day today, mon chou?”

"Oui, Maman!"

Fleur smiled down at Teddy, just as a deep voice spoke behind them.

“Oh good, you’ve all met,” Remus said, striding into the living room carrying Teddy’s trainers and Sirius’s boots. Sirius’s breath caught in his chest a little at the sight of him. He was handsome, of course, but there was more to it, somehow. He was funny. Really funny. And strange. And passionate. And kind. And…

“Fleur, Sirius is staying in Rosehip Cottage,” Remus continued, and he and Fleur exchanged a meaningful look that Sirius couldn’t read, but that he knew meant something in whatever silent language they spoke together. 

“How charming,” Fleur replied. “And how are you finding your stay so far?” 

“It’s been wonderful,” Sirius said. “And even better now that I’m spending the evening with such lovely company.” 

He then glanced at Remus, who was already watching him and whose cheeks had turned a sweet shade of pink when their eyes met. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Fleur said. “I’m going to say hello to my wife and change out of my work clothes. Teddy, come set the table, please, darling?” 

She nodded at Sirius, gave Remus another significant look and a small smile, then walked briskly from the room, her stilettos clicking on the wood floor with every step as Teddy trotted along after her. 

“So that’s Fleur,” Remus said, turning back to him with a cockeyed half grin that made Sirius’s knees weak. What was it about this man? 

“She’s kind of intimidating,” Sirius admitted with a nervous little laugh.

“She’d be happy to hear you think so,” Remus replied. 

“Does she work with you, too?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, she manages the business side of this place and has an office in the village. She’s not really the work-at-home-in-sweatpants type.”

“No, she doesn’t seem to be,” Sirius replied, then looked around the little living room where they were standing. It was small and cozy, with a comfy, overstuffed couch and chairs, a big fireplace with an old-fashioned, long-handled popcorn popper leaning against the mantle, a big blue cushion on the floor in front of the slide, and an undecorated Christmas tree sitting in the corner in front of a picture window. 

“Still haven’t gotten to that yet,” Remus said, following Sirius’s gaze to the bare evergreen. “We thought we’d decorate it Friday night before, umm…” 

Remus’s voice trailed away, and he looked a little embarrassed before continuing. 

“Well, before your show,” Remus finished. “We watch it together as a family every week.” 

“Oh,” Sirius replied, and again, his breath caught in his chest. 

He’d heard of families watching his show together, of course, and he thought it was sweet, in a detached sort of way. But the idea of this particular family, all cuddled together on the couch, watching him, sparked some deep, profound longing in Sirius’s heart that he couldn’t quite name. Sirius was with them on those nights, in a way, but not really there at all. 

And suddenly, he could see it all clearly somehow, like a film reel playing in his mind’s eye, as though he’d been lifted out of the television and dropped onto the couch next to them instead. He could see Teddy’s little hand reaching into a big wooden bowl filled with popcorn, see him laughing and falling asleep on his daddy’s shoulder. The smells were there, too; of burnt popcorn kernels at the bottom of the metal popper, the logs smoldering on the dying fire, and traces of the wild forest and sweet, spicy cinnamon on Remus’s soft wool jumper. He could feel the squashy couch underneath him, could feel the heaviness of Teddy’s sleepy limbs draped across his lap, the feeling of Remus's strong hand in his. He could see it all, and feel it too… he could almost touch it. All he had to do was reach out…

“Sirius? Are you alright?” 

Sirius came back to reality with a jolt, looking around the empty living room in a kind of haze. What the hell had just happened?  It had all been so vivid, so real. But there was no popcorn, no fire in the hearth. The couch was empty. Teddy was nowhere to be seen, and Remus was looking at him with a soft, concerned smile.

“Yeah. It’s… it’s just nice,” Sirius said, trying to recover as quickly as he could. “To think about you all together like that. I’m glad you like the show.”  

“It’s Teddy’s favorite,” Remus said. “His favorite show, his favorite night. Tonks, Fleur, and I joke that he’ll be 30 years old and still coming home on Friday nights to watch ‘Sirius Eats.’” 

“I better not still be making ‘Sirius Eats’ when Teddy’s 30,” Sirius blurted out, and his voice sounded bitter in a way that surprised even him.

Remus’s smile faltered a bit. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Remus said, but Sirius shook his head, suddenly embarrassed. 

“No, god, you have nothing to be sorry about,” Sirius said. “It’s just wearing on me. The grind of it, the constant attention. The spotlight is… well, it’s starting to burn a bit, I guess.” 

Remus nodded sympathetically, and Sirius’s thudding heart eased a little. Why was Remus so easy to talk to? Even in writing, when they were exchanging letters, he had been easy to talk to.

“Fame would be my worst fucking nightmare, to be honest,” Remus said. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

“I’m starting to wonder that myself,” Sirius admitted.  

They looked at each other for a moment across the quiet living room, until that quiet was broken by the sound of Tonks’s voice ringing over the intercom.

“Dinner!” she called. 

“Ready?” Remus asked, and Sirius nodded, then followed him out of the living room and into a little hallway before emerging back into Tonks and Fleur’s house, where, unlike Remus’s house, the Christmas tree was fully lit and decorated.

They settled in at the round, scrubbed wooden table in the cozy kitchen, where Tonks and Fleur were already helping Teddy with his dinner. The table was filled with a mishmash of choices: Soup, salad, half a loaf of sourdough bread, four pieces of chicken, a single baked potato, three slices of pizza, half a shepherd’s pie, two slices of roast lamb, a few dollops of mint chutney. 

“Leftover night. Also known as clean-out-the-fridge night,” Remus laughed, looking around at the odd assortment a little apologetically. “Next time we have you over, we’ll be sure to make something special. I mean... not that you have to come over again.” 

“It’s perfect,” Sirius said, and he really meant it. “And I’d love to come over again.” 

“Alright,” Remus nodded with another sweet smile, and my goodness, Sirius thought. What a doll he was.

“So, Sirius,” Tonks said. “What’s the rest of your stay look like?” 

“I don’t know,” Sirius admitted. “Like I told Remus, I booked it kind of spur of the moment. I just packed my bags and left.” 

“But first you got a haircut!” Teddy said, and Sirius laughed.

“Right, first I got a haircut,” Sirius agreed, then turned back to Tonks. “I’ll be honest with you, I barely even know where I am. I’m open to any and all suggestions for things to do.” 

“Well, you’re in luck, because there’s always something going on at the inn,” Tonks said. “We’ve got a foraging hike that I’m leading tomorrow, and Remus is teaching a Christmas biscuit class on Saturday.” 

“Mummy!” Teddy said with a theatrical eye roll. “Sirius already knows how to make Christmas biscuits!” 

“Actually, Teddy, I think I should take the class. Your daddy is much better at baking than I am,” Sirius replied. 

“That is wildly untrue,” Remus said. 

“You haven’t actually tasted my baking, Remus. But I’ve tasted yours. Trust me, you’re better,” Sirius said, then took a bite of the soup. “Oh my lord, this is amazing! Did you make this, Tonks?” 

“I did,” she said. “Wild mushroom. They grow in the woods here. It’s the kind of thing we find on the foraging hikes this time of year.” 

“It’s unbelievable. Count me in for that hike,” Sirius said, breaking off a piece of bread and trying that, too. He closed his eyes with an appreciative little moan as he chewed. “Mmm, and of course this is incredible.” 

“The sourdough is all Remus,” Tonks said. “Well, Remus and Britney Spores.” 

“Britney who?” Sirius asked. 

“Britney Spores. That’s the name of Daddy’s sourdough starter,” Teddy said, and Sirius laughed. 

“You have to name your starter! It’s alive!” Teddy added through a mouthful of lamb. 

“I agree,” Sirius told him.

“Please don’t talk with food in your mouth, Teddy,” Fleur reminded him.

“And every time Remus feeds it, he sings, ‘Gimme, gimme more! Gimme more!’” Tonks said, and she and Fleur dissolved into laughter. 

“Wow, you guys are just out here telling all my secrets,” Remus said, shaking his head, his cheeks bright pink. “A man can’t even serenade his starter in peace.” 

“It’s a beautiful serenade, darling,” Fleur said, patting Remus on the cheek with her lovely manicured hand. “We just like bragging about you.” 

Tonks nodded in agreement, then sang, “hit me baby one more time,” under her breath while Teddy helped himself to a spoonful of mint chutney. 

The rest of the evening passed just as pleasantly, and Teddy even convinced Remus to bake some of the ginger biscuits they had in the freezer to have with tea after dinner. They made their way into the living room, with Fleur and Tonks cuddled together in a wide armchair big enough for both of them, and Sirius, Remus, and Teddy piled onto the soft couch where they’d looked at Teddy’s recipe binder before dinner. 

There, curled up in front of the fire and the glittering Christmas tree with Teddy and Remus, clutching mugs of milky, honey-sweetened tea, and eating the warm, spicy, just-from-the-oven ginger biscuits, Sirius didn’t think he’d ever been so relaxed and comfortable. He was in a house full of strangers, but it didn’t feel that way at all. 

Before long, Teddy yawned and his eyes drooped shut. 

“Bedtime, sweetheart,” Remus said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Teddy’s forehead. 

“No,” Teddy’s sleepy voice slurred. 

“We’re all going to bed, darling,” Fleur said. 

“Sirius isn’t,” Teddy said, his eyes still closed.

“I’m going to bed, too,” Sirius told him. “Me and Padfoot are tired.” 

Teddy’s eyes opened slowly, and he looked up at Sirius. 

“Will you come back tomorrow?” he asked, his voice slow and groggy, and Sirius’s heart swelled in his chest. “You won’t impose.”

“Good job with that new word,” Sirius said. “I’ll make sure to see you tomorrow, alright?” 

“Alright. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Teddy. Thank you for dinner.” 

“You’re welcome,” Teddy yawned, then stood up and shuffled across the room with his mothers.  

“I’ll be right up,” Remus told them.

“No rush,” Tonks replied with a little smile and a glance between Remus and Sirius as she and Fleur disappeared upstairs. 

Sirius stood up and roused Padfoot from his sleep, gathering him up to leave. 

“Thanks for everything, tonight, Remus,” Sirius said, as they walked slowly across the cottage together. “Letting me into your kitchen, dinner, hanging out with Teddy. It was the nicest night I’ve had in a very long time.” 

They stopped in front of the door, and Sirius turned to face Remus, who looked so sweet and handsome in the flickering firelight. 

“I’m glad to have been some small part of that,” Remus said quietly. 

“You were the biggest part of it,” Sirius told him.

“Oh,” Remus replied in a near whisper.

They fell silent and gazed at each other for a long moment. Remus was just impossibly lovely; everything about him, from his hands to his freckles to his darling little family. The air between them buzzed and crackled. Remus’s lips parted and a shaky little breath escaped his lungs. They were only inches apart as they looked at each other, and Sirius felt the urge to close the space between them, to put a gentle hand on Remus’s cheek, to lean in and… 

“Well, goodnight,” Remus said in a strangled sort of voice. He took an abrupt, almost stumbling step back, then opened the door, letting a gust of frigid wind swirl between them and into the house. It guttered through the hearth, making the fire crackle and whoosh, and they both jumped in surprise at the sudden noise and shocking cold. 

Sirius looked at the fireplace, then back at Remus, whose eyes were trained at a spot on the floor. 

“Yeah, goodnight,” Sirius replied. He quickly clipped Padfoot’s lead onto his collar, pulled on his jacket and hat, and stepped into the cold, clear night.

He walked over the crunching gravel, feeling a bit confused, then reached the end of the drive, and turned around. Remus was still standing in the open doorway, watching him walk away. Remus waved and gave him a small, almost sad, smile, and Sirius waved back, somehow feeling even more confused than he had a few seconds ago.   

Chapter Text

The sun’s first rays sparkled across the frosty, glittering landscape as Remus made his usual early morning walk to the inn. Like always, he and the sun greeted each other before anyone else was even awake. But unlike always, his mind wasn’t on that day’s chores. Instead, it was swirling around those final minutes with Sirius in front of the door last night, when Remus had nearly lost his mind and kissed him. 

Thankfully, he’d caught himself just in time, jumping away as though he’d almost grabbed a hot pan without an oven mitt. Remus was fairly certain he’d successfully played it off as nothing more than being overtired, but still, his mind reeled. What was he, a confused teenager, overwhelmed by misplaced feelings and accidentally kissing some unsuspecting straight boy? And now he was doing it with Sirius Fucking Black, of all people. But oh, it was an easy mistake to make. Remus was pretty sure Sirius could seduce a rock. 

Not that Sirius was trying to seduce him. Even the idea of it was ludicrous. Tonks insisted that Sirius was flirting, and Remus might have agreed if Sirius wasn’t Sirius Black. But he was Sirius Black. And he couldn’t be flirting. Least of all with Remus. In fact, Remus suspected that Sirius’s charm was just so explosively powerful that even a simple, innocent smile felt like a blowtorch incinerating a pile of dry leaves. 

Remus was so busy spiraling down his Sirius Black anxiety hole and comparing himself to leaves and rocks, that he jumped in surprise when a deep, familiar voice broke the early morning stillness. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” 

Remus stopped in his tracks and looked around.

Sirius was standing on Rosehip Cottage’s front porch, wearing the inn’s black bathrobe and slippers and clutching a steaming mug of coffee while Padfoot sniffed around the front garden. 

“Good morning,” Remus replied from the other end of the cottage’s gravel walkway. “You’re up early.” 

“Padfoot woke me up,” Sirius said. “It’s weird, he usually sleeps late. He’d stay in bed all day, if I let him. But today he was sniffing at the door, whining to get out before the sun was even up.” 

“That is weird,” Remus agreed, reaching over the garden gate to pet Padfoot, who’d trotted over in happy greeting. Sirius followed him, walking down the porch steps and padding down the walkway in his slippers. 

“Weird but good,” Sirius said, “because now I get to see you. What are you up to?” 

“Oh, just morning chores,” Remus shrugged, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at Sirius’s words about seeing him, and the way Sirius’s black hair shone in the soft morning sunlight. Instead, Remus carefully kept his gaze on the spot he was petting behind Padfoot’s ear. “Nothing that exciting. Actually, probably the opposite of exciting. Just farm and kitchen stuff.” 

“Do you mind if I join you?” Sirius asked. “You can put me to work.” 

“What?” Remus replied, his eyes snapping up and meeting Sirius’s, which were already looking at him, silvery blue and beautiful and just inches away. “But you’re on holiday. It’s supposed to be relaxing.” 

“I’m not really good at the whole relaxing thing,” Sirius confessed with an embarrassed little laugh. “And I had such a nice time with you yesterday, just hanging out in the kitchen and talking, that I was hoping we could do it again.” 

“Oh.” 

“But if you think I’ll be in the way, or a bother, you can tell me,” Sirius insisted. “I promise I won’t get my feelings hurt.” 

“No!” Remus said quickly. “it’s not that! I mean, if you really want to…” 

“I would love to,” Sirius said, his beautiful face painted with sweet, open sincerity. “I want to see how this place runs and all the wonderful things you do. And if I can help you in any way, I’d love to do that, too.” 

“Alright, then,” Remus nodded. “If you’re sure.” 

“More than sure,” Sirius said. “I’m just gonna throw on some clothes. Do you want to come inside for a second? I’ll be two minutes tops.” 

“Yeah, OK,” Remus nodded, then followed Sirius and Padfoot up the walkway and into the cottage. 

“I didn’t order a breakfast basket this morning,” Sirius said, his bathrobe fluttering around his ankles and his voice trailing away as he disappeared down the little hallway and into the bedroom. “I decided to be brave and venture into the dining room. Maybe no one will recognize me.” 

“I’ll be there to run interference if anyone bothers you,” Remus answered the disembodied voice as he stood in the middle of the little cottage and looked around. 

He didn’t go inside the guest rooms very often anymore, especially when they were occupied. But now, he saw evidence of Sirius all over the familiar room, and it made his heart feel oddly happy and full. Sirius’s leather jacket hung on a hook near the door next to Padfoot’s lead. His boots were on the hearthrug in front of the fireplace, and the book he was reading (Salt: A World History) was open on the end table. 

“Thanks,” Sirius said. “I’ll probably take you up on that.” 

He emerged from the bedroom, midway through pulling a black jumper over his head, and Remus tried to avert his eyes from the flash of bare stomach above the waistband of his dark jeans. Instead, his gaze landed on Sirius’s face, which was equally—no, more, much more—distracting. His short hair was charmingly, sexily tousled after his head emerged through the jumper’s neck hole, and he reached up to smooth it out, running his tattooed hand through the black strands with a nonchalant grace. Then he dashed by Remus to grab his boots, not bothering to sit down as he quickly yanked them on with a little hop on each foot.

“Ninety seconds,” Sirius said proudly, looking over at the clock on the wall as he stood up straight. “Not bad! Hopefully I didn’t derail your morning for too long.” 

“You’re not derailing it at all,” Remus replied, which wasn’t entirely true. But he couldn’t exactly tell Sirius that his mere presence at the inn was derailing much more than his morning. 

“Good,” Sirius said with a dazzling smile that nearly made Remus lightheaded with how beautiful he was.

”Will Padfoot be alright?” Remus asked, and looked down to find the dog already settling in on his dog bed for a snooze. 

“Oh, yeah, totally fine,” Sirius said, bending over to give Padfoot a little pat on the side. “He’s been annoyed with me for making him hike. He’ll be relieved to just sleep all day, the lazy old thing.” 

Sirius straightened up, smoothed his hair once more, and gave Remus an eager, heart-meltingly adorable smile.

“Ready when you are,” Sirius said, and they set off. 

“So what’s first?” Sirius asked as they made their way together down the lane.

“Normally, I gather the eggs first, then head over to the kitchen,” Remus said. “But we can go to the kitchen first if you’re hungry. I know you haven’t eaten yet. I can make you a little something before the breakfast buffet is ready.” 

“No!” Sirius protested immediately. “I said I didn’t want to derail you and I mean it. Besides, I want to see what your morning is like.” 

“Alright, well, first stop is the chicken coop, then,” Remus said, nodding toward a small wooden building next to the greenhouses. They pushed open the door and walked inside, where it was still mostly dark and quiet, except for some soft clucking and the ruffling of feathers and hay. Only a few hens were awake and pecking at their feed. Remus grabbed a bucket and started reaching into the little cubbies where the hens were sleeping, their heads tucked beneath their wings. 

“Woah!” Sirius said, as Remus pulled handfuls of eggs from the nests. “That’s a ton of eggs.” 

“We go through a ton of eggs,” Remus said. “Sometimes we have to supplement from other farms during really busy times.” 

“So you just reach right under them like that?” Sirius asked, a note of wonder in his voice, as he watched Remus plunge his hand into the little cubbies. 

“Yeah. Sometimes they get a little miffed,” Remus said, laughing when one of the hens leapt to the floor with a squawk and a loud flap of wings, making Sirius jump in surprise. “But they’re pretty chill gals, on the whole. You want to try?”

“Really?” Sirius asked. “I couldn’t hurt them if I did it wrong, could I?” 

“It’s pretty hard to do it wrong,” Remus said, stroking the top of a sleeping bird’s head before gathering her eggs, too. “Don’t, like, poke them in the eye or anything. Just kind of gently reach underneath and feel around.” 

“That’s a hell of an instruction, Remus,” Sirius said with a cheeky smile that made Remus’s face flush. 

“I just meant…” Remus stammered, but Sirius only laughed and did as he was told.

“Pardon me, madam. Sorry we’re meeting like this for the first time,” Sirius told the chicken, putting a slightly shaking hand underneath the bird, which barely even moved as he searched for an egg. “I hope you don’t mind me sticking my hand up your feathers without even buying you dinner first, and… Oh! I found one! And—holy shit!—it’s warm!” 

“Yeah, it’s been up a bird’s arse,” Remus laughed, and Sirius froze. 

“Not literally,” Sirius said, staring at Remus as though it couldn’t possibly be true. 

“No, literally,” Remus told him. “They shit, lay eggs, and mate all from the same hole. It’s called a cloaca.” 

“Oh! Damn!” Sirius said, looking down at the egg in his hand in horrified wonder, then back up at the chicken. “Well, little lady, I can’t fault you for having an all-purpose hole, now can I?”

Then Sirius put the egg in the bucket and plunged his hand under the bird again. 

“So, did you grow up on a farm?” Sirius asked as they left the chicken coop with a bucket full of eggs and trudged up the hill toward the inn. 

“No,” Remus said, and couldn’t help the sarcastic little huff of a laugh that escaped him. “I’m from Manchester.” 

“Oh,” Sirius said, sounding surprised. “How’d you learn all this stuff, then? Did you go to farm school?” 

“No. I had YouTube and a library card,” Remus told him. 

“Wow. No farm school, no culinary school,” Sirius said, shaking his head in wonder. 

“Yeah, ‘No school’ is kind of the theme of my life,” Remus said before he could stop himself, and his face heated at his unintentional candor. But Sirius was just so easy to talk to. 

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, and Remus hesitated before answering. He didn’t usually talk about this stuff, least of all with near strangers. But Sirius had opened up to Remus about the paparazzi and wanting to escape the city. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for Remus to do the same. 

“I left school when I was 16,” Remus said. “My dad was long gone, and my mum got really sick and couldn’t work anymore. We were running out of money fast. So I went to work instead.” 

“Wow,” Sirius said.  

“It was fine,” Remus shrugged. “School wasn’t really my thing anyhow. I think the headmaster was happy to see the back of me.” 

“How come?” 

“You know, just being a little shit,” Remus said evasively, then plowed on. “Anyhow, I went to work in restaurants. Nothing fancy, at first. The local chippy. But I kinda liked it and was pretty good at it. Then I got sacked and landed at another restaurant a couple weeks later. Washing dishes, bussing tables, the usual. But it was a proper restaurant this time, and I liked watching the chef when the dining room was slow. He let me do little things, like mise en place for the salad station, or garnishing plates. Then he started teaching me, and I worked my way up. When I discovered I had a knack for baking, the chef actually helped me get a job at another restaurant so I could learn more. And I did. And it went on from there.” 

“Wow,” Sirius said. “He must’ve really liked you. And recognized your talent, of course.” 

“He was really good to me,” Remus nodded. “All my mentors were.”

“Is that how you met Fleur and Tonks?” Sirius asked. “At work?”

“Yep,” Remus said. “Tonks and I worked in a French restaurant together, and Fleur was one of the regulars. She was at uni, studying finance, and came in four or five times a week. She said it was because she missed the food from home, but it probably didn’t hurt that there was a cute chef who flirted with her and gave her free bouillabaisse. Pretty soon we were all inseparable, got a flat together and everything. We always talked about running away to the countryside to live our cottage-core dreams and open a bed and breakfast.” 

“And then you did it,” Sirius said, with a kind of dreamy note in his voice. 

“Yeah. We did it,” Remus replied, as they walked up the inn’s garden path. Remus unlocked the door and led Sirius past the empty front desk, into the library, where one guest was reading the morning paper in her bathrobe, through the dining room, and into the quiet kitchen. 

Remus flipped on the lights, preheated the oven, and pulled a sheet pan of overnight proofed cinnamon rolls out of the refrigerator for their final rise. Then he started transferring the eggs to the cardboard cartons that were stacked on the counter. 

“I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Remus said as he worked. “I mean, I got into so much trouble as a kid. Then my mum died, and…” 

Remus’s voice trailed away, a little self conscious. But Sirius didn’t seem to be judging him. 

“I just got really lucky,” Remus finished. “A lot of people saw the best in me.” 

“I had people like that, too. It really makes a difference,” Sirius said, reaching into the egg bucket to help Remus. “I ran away from home when I was 16 to go live with my best mate. His parents took me in. No questions asked. My own parents were awful. Cruel, abusive. I was the ‘heir.’ But I came out all wrong. I was supposed to be a barrister or a surgeon, join the House of Lords, like the rest of the Blacks. But instead I hung around in the kitchens with the cooks and dreamed of being a chef. Dreamed of being a servant, according to my mother. I was probably so annoying to all the cooks, and they definitely could’ve gotten sacked for letting me follow them around all the time. But the kitchen was the only place in that house where I felt safe. I felt like I belonged there. And the chefs were loud and brash and foul-mouthed and smoked too much and half of them were recovering addicts, and I just adored them all. They took care of me. They watched out for me. They taught me everything. How to curse, how to cook, how not to cry when you cut onions. They were some of the best people I’ve ever known. But still just servants, according to my family. And now I’m one of them.” 

“Your family doesn't still think like that, do they? You’re Sirius Black! You’re famous!” Remus said, but Sirius only shook his head with a sad, almost pitying smile. 

“Famous?” Sirius said. “That’s even worse. Now the whole country knows that their son is nothing but a chef. I’m the family shame.” 

“That’s crazy,” Remus said. 

“That’s the Blacks,” Sirius replied. “Anyhow, it doesn’t matter anymore. I was disowned a long time ago.” 

“Do you still see any of your family?” 

“I see my brother once in a while,” Sirius said. “He’s the golden child, and he is, indeed, a barrister now. But I also think he’s worked some legal loopholes that my parents don’t know about so I’ll get my inheritance. Which I will promptly donate to the Brixton Soup Kitchen.” 

Sirius laughed and Remus did, too. The egg bucket was now empty. Remus looked at the clock. It had been an hour since he’d walked by Sirius’s cottage, and the time was flying by. 

“Alright, that’s done. What next?” Sirius asked, looking around for the next task. 

“Next is coffee before I pass out,” Remus replied, and pressed the button on the coffee maker. He pulled out three mugs, then slid the cinnamon rolls into the oven. “And while that’s brewing, I need to feed Britney.” 

“Ah, yes, Ms. Spores herself. I hope that means I’ll get to witness the singing,” Sirius asked. 

“I still can’t believe they ratted me out like that,” Remus said, then held up the jar of starter to formally introduce her to Sirius. 

“It’s Britney, bitch,” Remus said, and Sirius dissolved into laughter. 

“Nice to meet you. You’re much taller in person,” Sirius said to the jar. 

“Listen to all those beautiful bubbles,” Sirius said, as Remus scooped out the discard, then spoke right to the starter. “What song would you like Daddy to sing to you today, darling?” 

Sirius listened, a hand curved theatrically around his ear. 

“Alright, love, I’ll tell him,” Sirius said, then looked up at Remus with the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “She’s asking you to sing, ‘I’m a Slave 4 U.’” 

“Is that so?” Remus laughed. 

“I was surprised, too,” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know if you can handle those high notes.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Remus said. He scooped out some flour, sprinkled it over the top and sang, his voice cracking terribly as he stirred. 

“I'm a slave for you… I cannot hold it, I cannot control it. I'm a slave for you… I won't deny it, I'm not trying to hide it.” 

Sirius danced a little in place, bobbing his head, then immediately jumped in to sing along at the break. 

“Get it, get it, get it, get it, whoa. Get it, get it, get it, get it, whoa,” they sang together, both of them dancing over the starter now.

“I see the nonviolent takeover of the inn is underway,” said Alfie’s voice from the doorway and Remus and Sirius both jumped in surprise. “Brainwashing through music is a common subliminal technique, boss, you should probably know that.” 

“Morning, Alfie,” Sirius said cheerily, stepping away from Britney to pour mugs of coffee for all three of them. “How’s Isla feeling today?” 

“A little better,” Alfie replied, taking the coffee that Sirius handed to him. “She only puked twice. That tea Tonks made for her really helped.” 

“Told you it would work,” Remus said. 

“She loved the selfie, too, Mr. Black,” Alfie said. “And she very much approves of your new haircut. She called you a ‘delicious snack.’” 

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to pass along her compliments to my barber,” Sirius said. 

“So, do you work here now?” Alfie asked Sirius, narrowing his eyes. “Officially? On the payroll?” 

“I just wanted to spend some time with Remus,” Sirius said, and Remus’s stomach flipped a little. But Alfie only shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off of Sirius’s face. It was rather unsettling.

“A likely story,” Alfie muttered, and Sirius snorted a laugh. 

“Alfie?” Remus interjected. “Breakfast basket orders?” 

“Oh, right, boss! Sorry ‘bout that!” Alfie said, and reached into the back pocket of his baggy jeans for the stack of order forms. 

“Thank you,” Remus replied, laying them out on the counter. He glanced over at Alfie, then back at Sirius, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Now’s your chance to get out. I won’t be offended.”

“I’m having a great time, Remus,” Sirius whispered back. “I think he’s funny!”

“He also has perfect hearing!” Alfie chimed in loudly, and Sirius barked another laugh. 

“I love it here,” Sirius whispered to Remus through a bright smile and leaned closer. They were so close that Remus could’ve counted each of Sirius’s dark black eyelashes. 

“Me too,” Remus whispered back, unable to stop himself from smiling just as brightly. Their eyes locked and they stared at each other for a moment, and once again Remus had that terrible, stupid urge to lean closer and… 

“No secrets!” Alfie cried, and not a moment too soon. Another close call. What was wrong with him? 

Remus turned back to Sirius and studied his face for another few seconds. 

“Do you really want me to put you to work?” Remus asked, trying to detect pity or boredom or some other emotion that indicated Sirius was just being polite. But he didn’t see anything but what could only be described as joy. 

“I really do,” Sirius replied.

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

Sirius, to no one’s surprise, was an excellent fucking chef. He did everything Remus asked him to perfectly, with barely any instruction. He simply threw an apron on and got to work. Together, they flew through everything Remus needed to do that day, and even a few things for the next day, too, assembling breakfast baskets, garnishing petit fours, laminating croissant dough, blanching almonds, making buttercream. 

Remus felt exhilarated as he and Sirius moved in easy tandem throughout the kitchen, as though they were carrying out a perfectly choreographed dance. How was it so easy? So effortless? 

Moreover, Remus had never worked next to someone who could keep up with him, even in the very best restaurants. And Sirius not only kept up, but matched Remus’s ideas and excitement beat for beat. 

“I bet caraway syrup would be heavenly in this!” 

“I love sugaring violets, it’s meditative.” 

“What’s your favorite egg-to-milk ratio for bread pudding? And be prepared to argue your case.”

“Cheese and chocolate? Yay or nay? I’m a firm yay.” 

“What’s your desert island food? I think mine is carrot cake. It’s filling, delicious, helps prevent scurvy, and develops your night vision.” 

By the time they took their lunch break, Remus had nearly forgotten that Sirius was Sirius Black, famous TV chef, and was instead, brainstorming menu ideas for the inn’s Christmas party with him while they sat across from each other on metal stools in the back of the kitchen. They’d just finished eating roast beef sandwiches with a delicious horseradish sauce that Sirius whipped up with stuff he found in the fridge. 

“I’ve always wanted to do a full, traditional Victorian dinner,” Remus said, talking with his hands like he only ever did with Fleur and Tonks. “Roast goose, chestnut stuffing, oyster soup, gingerbread, plum pudding, mulled wine, Twelfth Night cake.” 

“I love that! We should totally do it,” Sirius agreed. “As long as we skip the gross shit, like jellied eel.” 

“Good advice,” Remus laughed, trying to ignore the way his stomach fizzed happily at Sirius’s casual use of the word “we.” 

“Hey, boss?” Alfie said, sticking his head into the kitchen from the dining room. “Tonks is here. She’s collecting people for the two o’clock foraging hike. She said Mr. Black wanted to join?” 

“Oh, right, yeah!” Sirius said, excitedly pulling off his apron. He stood up, then looked at Remus. “Will you come, too?” 

“I really shouldn’t,” Remus said. Even though they’d gotten so much done, he still felt guilty about cutting out early. 

“Why not?” Alfie asked. “Fleur’s doing the school run. Padfoot’s already had a walk.”

“I know, but…” 

“And you’re all caught up for all of today and most of tomorrow,” Alfie continued, then nodded toward Sirius. “Plus you really shouldn’t leave Tonks all alone with the evil mole. I haven’t briefed her on his diabolical plans yet. She could be susceptible to mind control.” 

“I’ve literally never heard a better argument in my entire life,” Sirius said, turning to Remus with a plaintive expression.

“Me either,” Alfie said. “Go. I’ll hold down the fort.” 

“Are you sure, Alfie?” Remus asked. 

“Positive,” Alfie nodded. “Now get out. And don’t trust a single mushroom he picks for you.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” 

“Good. Go have fun, you two crazy kids.” 

“You heard the man!” Sirius said. “Let’s go have fun!”   

“Got room for one more?” Remus asked Tonks when they walked outside a minute later. She was reading through the attendance list and looked up in happy surprise, her eyes darting excitedly between Remus and Sirius. 

“Of course!” she exclaimed, then threw her arms around Remus’s neck. 

“This is a date, by the way,” she hissed in Remus’s ear.

“No, it’s not,” he shot back.

“Yes, it soooooo is!” Tonks said, dancing a little and yanking Remus around by the neck.

“Stop it!” Remus said, and squirmed out of her grasp. 

Remus was afraid that Sirius had overheard them. But when he turned around, Sirius was engulfed by two couples crowding close to him for a selfie. 

“Thank you!” one of the women gushed, pressing a hand to her heart and looking at Sirius as though she was about to faint. “I’m such a huge, huge fan.” 

“You’re her hall pass,” the other woman whispered with a naughty grin, leaning in close to Sirius so their husbands couldn’t hear. 

“Oh,” Sirius nodded, giving her a stiff smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, lucky me, I guess.” 

“Wait, are you going on this hike?” the first woman asked Sirius, then turned to her friend. “Oh my god, we should go, too!” 

The second woman started to answer, but Remus cut in. 

“It’s full,” he said apologetically. “I’m so sorry. We like to keep the group hike really small for…um… environmental reasons. For a minimal impact on the trails. Maybe next week?” 

“Ugh, we’re checking out tomorrow!” the first woman moaned. 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Remus nodded sympathetically. “There’s always next year, though.” 

“I suppose,” she said slowly. “But can’t we just…” 

“Follow me!” Tonks called, bending down to pick up a large woven basket and turning to lead them toward the trailhead. 

“I’ve got to run. It was so nice meeting you!” Sirius said, then turned to Remus with a grateful sigh as they followed Tonks. He leaned his head sideways and whispered, “Thanks for that.” 

“No problem,” Remus replied, looking ahead at their hiking group, which was very much not full. 

Remus wasn’t surprised. Winter foraging hikes weren’t nearly as popular as the ones in spring, summer, and fall. In fact, there were only two other people joining them: Two women who looked to be in their late 60s. They both had short-cropped gray hair, identical brown corduroy barn coats, light blue denim jeans, and practical canvas hiking boots. They also carried matching wooden walking sticks topped with carved badger heads and wore matching gold wedding bands. Wow, couples really do start to look alike after a while, Remus thought. 

Tonks stopped at the trailhead and turned around to face the group.

“Welcome to our foraging hike! Thank you for joining,” she said, putting her hands into her puffy pink parka, which perfectly matched her hair. “My name is Tonks Delacour, I’m one of the co-owners here at Silver Moon B&B. And we’re actually joined today by another one of our co-owners, Remus, who is our chef and whose wonderful breakfasts you’ve been enjoying all week.” 

The two women turned to look at Remus and Sirius, and Remus braced for that now-familiar shock when someone realized that Sirius was The Sirius Black.  

But to his surprise and relief, it never came.

“Which one of you is Remus?” the shorter woman asked, looking between Remus and Sirius with keen interest but not a hint of recognition on her sweet, plump face.

“Um, me,” Remus said, pointing to himself. 

“Oh! Jolly good!” the other woman said with a hearty thump of her walking stick against the ground. “You’re a talented young man!”

“Thank you.” 

“My wife and I can’t get enough of those macarons! Nat and I signed up for your Christmas biscuit class on Saturday. I’m Ellie, by the way.” 

“It’s nice to meet you both. Welcome,” Remus said, then turned to Ellie’s wife. “Nat, I presume?” 

“Right-o!” Nat said, then her gaze fell on Sirius. She grasped his hand and gave it a brisk shake. “Natalie Prince. What’s your name?” 

Remus and Sirius exchanged a surprised smile before Sirius answered. 

“Sirius,” he said. 

“Like the star?” Ellie asked, shaking his hand next. 

“Yep,” Sirius said. 

“How strange! But smart! I like it!” Natalie said. 

“Thank you,” Sirius said. 

“Are you a guest, or do you work here, too?” Ellie asked. 

“I’m a guest,” Sirius said. “I’m on holiday from London.” 

“That’s very nice,” Natalie nodded. “I hope you’re having a good time.” 

“We love every part of this place!” Ellie gushed. 

“So do I,” Sirius agreed, then looked sideways at Remus with a soft little smile that sent Remus’s heart racing once again. 

“Now that we’ve all met,” Tonks said, looking around at them again, “onward!” 

They hiked for nearly two hours, but didn’t get very far. Instead, they kept veering off the trail, where Tonks showed them how to find wild mushrooms, sweet chestnuts, juniper berries, and crabapples. 

“I can’t believe you can pick crabapples in December,” Natalie marveled. 

“They taste best right now, actually. When it’s cold, but there hasn’t been a hard frost yet,” Tonks explained. “They sweeten on the branch in this weather.” 

“Aren’t you clever!” Ellie said. 

Everyone helped Tonks fill the basket with their wild finds and chatted all along the way. They learned that Natalie and Ellie were retired teachers from Surrey and hadn’t owned a television since 1979, the year Margaret Thatcher was elected prime minister. 

“I was tired of seeing her awful, racist, homophobic face,” Natalie grumbled, as though Margaret Thatcher had personally offended her yesterday, not 45 years ago. 

“And we decided to adopt a lifestyle that was more about creation than consumption,” Ellie added. 

“I love that,” Sirius said, stopping in the middle of gathering chestnuts to look at Ellie and Natalie. “Do you still feel that way?”

“More than ever!” Ellie said, and Natalie nodded in agreement. 

“Wow,” Sirius said quietly, mostly to himself, and continued gathering chestnuts.

“It’s about time to head back to the inn,” Tonks said eventually, looking down at her watch, then up at the sky, which had darkened significantly since they left. Their eyes had adjusted, but now that Remus looked around, he saw how dark the forest had gotten. Sunset was at 3:40, and it was past 4:00. A few little stars were already popping out in the velvety blue sky and the moon shone weakly through the bare tree branches. 

“If you ladies don’t need to rush off,” Tonks said, “we can roast these chestnuts when we get back to the inn. There’s a firepit in the back garden.”

“We’d love that!” Natalie said.

“Mind if I join you, too?” Sirius added. “I’ve never tasted a freshly harvested chestnut.” 

“Sirius,” Tonks said, gazing up at him, “there is literally nothing I would like more. I’m sure Remus feels exactly the same way.” 

Remus’s face burned and he rolled his eyes. Thank god it was dark. 

“So is your first name Tonks?” Sirius asked her as they hiked back to the inn. 

“It is now,” she replied. “It was my last name. I hated my first name. I can’t even say it without bile rising in my throat.” 

She gagged dramatically, then continued. 

“So when I got married, I took Fleur’s last name and legally changed my first name, too.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Sirius said. 

“Yeah, and it’s not like she’d take my last name. Fleur Tonks? That sounds like the noise you make when you cough up something nasty. Fleur tonks!” 

She shouted the words with a phlegmy, guttural noise from the back of her throat, and Sirius burst out laughing. 

“I see your point,” he said. 

“She’s too pretty to have such a disgusting name,” Tonks said. “So what did you and Remus get up to today?”

“Remus let me invade his kitchen once again,” Sirius said. 

“And he gathered eggs,” Remus said. 

“Wow!” Tonks said, nodding approvingly. “We’ll turn you into a farm boy yet.” 

“I take it you already knew about the ‘one hole’ thing?” Sirius asked, and Tonks gave Remus a confused look. 

“One hole?” Tonks asked. “Did Remus touch your special place?” 

Sirius burst out laughing again, and Remus sighed and shook his head. 

“Sirius learned about the cloaca today,” Remus said. 

“Oh,” Tonks said, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, that is a disturbing bit of anatomy, isn’t it?” 

“I just had no idea!” Sirius marveled. “Did you teach yourself all of this stuff like Remus did?” 

“No, I studied agriculture and forestry at uni,” Tonks told him. “Only Remus here was a delinquent.” 

“Tonks!” Remus said.

“I’m kidding! Remus was just a hell of a scrapper, that’s all,” Tonks said. “Mean right hook. Could break a bloke’s nose with one punch.”

“Damn, really?” Sirius asked, a note of something in his voice that Remus couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Not because I wanted to. I never wanted to,” Remus said, hoping Sirius wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “I was mercilessly bullied and beaten up when I was a kid. Terrorized, really. I was scrawny, poor, shy, gay. Sick mother, no father. A really easy target.” 

Tonks looked at him with a comforting smile as he spoke. 

“So what happened?” Sirius asked. 

“One day I’d had enough and fought back,” Remus said. “I was tired of being a punching bag. I knocked out four of the kid’s teeth, even though I was 80 pounds soaking wet. Once I started sticking up for myself, I started sticking up for other people, too. Then it got around the neighborhood that I was the bloke who could help you out of a jam.” 

“By then he’d grown about a foot,” Tonks added with a laugh. “I was scared of him when we first met. His reputation preceded him.” 

“Nothing I’m proud of,” Remus said, looking down at his feet and praying that Sirius didn’t think he was a terrible person. 

“It was the chef at the restaurant where we worked together who knocked some sense into him,” Tonks said. “He said, ‘Prison or pastry. Pick one.’ So he did.” 

“Wow,” Sirius said, looking at Remus with an amazed expression. 

"Wasn't that hard of a choice," Remus replied. 

“Remus was never meant to be a scrapper, anyhow. He was meant for this,” Tonks said, gesturing around at the beautiful trees and rolling hills all around them. “For quiet woods and baking sweet things and being Teddy’s daddy.” 

Tonks threw an arm around his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. 

“I’m still proud of you, you know,” she said. 

“I know,” Remus said quietly, tilting his head against hers as they trudged down the trail. 

“That’s really brave of you,” Sirius said. “To pick a different path.” 

“It took me long enough,” Remus said. “Nineteen is too old for that shit. I’m lucky I didn’t really hurt someone.” 

“Eh, you got there in the end. That’s what matters,” Tonks said. “Sometimes it just takes a while to figure out where you’re meant to be.” 

Then she looked sideways at Sirius and nudged him with her elbow. 

“Right, Sirius?” 

But Sirius didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked up at the stars and the wispy clouds that floated by in the dark sky, then all around the woods as he nodded and smiled softly. When he spoke, he answered Tonks. But he was looking at Remus. 

“Right.” 

Later, after they roasted chestnuts and warmed up around the fire, they bid goodnight to Natalie and Ellie.

“We had a wonderful time, thank you, Tonks,” Natalie said, giving her a hug. 

“You’re welcome, I’m so glad you could join us!” Tonks replied. 

“See you Saturday, Remus!” Ellie said, then turned to Sirius. “Will you be there, too?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said. 

“Good,” Ellie nodded. “It’s not every day you get a chance to learn from a world-class pastry chef and make something delicious with your own two hands."

“I agree!’ Sirius said. “Creating, not consuming, right?” 

“Yes, but in this case, we’ll be doing lots of consuming!” Natalie said. “Consuming biscuits!” 

They walked away, hand in hand, as Tonks put out the last of the fire. 

“If you don’t have dinner plans tonight, Sirius, you’re welcome to join us again,” Tonks said. “I know Teddy would love to see you.” 

“I did promise I’d see him today,” Sirius replied. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” 

“In case you can’t tell, the whole Lupin-Delacour family really likes you,” Tonks said. 

“Good, because I really like you guys, too,” Sirius said. 

“I’m going to head home and get dinner going,” Tonks said. “Remus, I’m guessing you want to check on the kitchen first?” 

“It’s not that I don’t trust Alfie…” Remus said, and Tonks laughed. 

“I know, sweetie,” she said, then turned back to Sirius. “Of course, bring Padfoot, too.” 

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few minutes,” Sirius said. 

They checked the kitchen one last time. It was perfectly fine, of course. Alfie had left it clean and orderly, just how Remus liked it. Then they stopped by Rosehip Cottage to get Padfoot. 

“Today was incredible,” Sirius said as they walked up the dark lane to Remus’s cottage, the gravel crunching beneath their feet in the quiet stillness of the early winter evening. Sirius looked up at the stars again as they popped out one by one, craning his neck in apparent wonder. “It’s magical here. I can’t believe this is your life every day.” 

“I’m glad you’re having a nice time,” Remus said. “Is it what you expected?” 

They approached Remus’s cottage, and Sirius slowed to a stop at the end of the garden path next to the stone wall. Then he turned to Remus and took a step closer. 

“It’s nothing like I expected,” he said quietly, his eyes raking across Remus’s face. He moved even closer, and Remus swallowed hard.

“Is that a good thing?” Remus asked, his voice shaking. 

They were mere inches apart now, just like last night. Just like this afternoon. He should put some space between them again, Remus told himself, before he did something stupid. He should step back, he should run.  

But he didn’t run. He didn’t even move. Instead, he stood frozen, his breathing shallow and his heart thudding hard as Sirius stepped even closer, until the toes of their muddy boots bumped into each other. Sirius was stunning up close, otherworldly, his molten silver-blue eyes searching Remus’s, and Remus thought he could stare into them forever. 

“It’s the best thing,” Sirius replied, and Remus inhaled sharply as Sirius’s fingertips brushed against his wrist. “You’re lovely, Remus.” 

“Thank you,” Remus whispered. 

Sirius raised his hand and gently ran the side of his thumb across Remus’s cheekbone as he cupped his jaw.

“So lovely,” Sirius whispered back, and he leaned in, closing his eyes. Remus felt Sirius's lips, soft and warm, just barely brushing against his own, and he gasped, jumping back in shock. 

“What are you doing?” Remus asked, his voice sounding strangled and terrified. 

“I wanted to kiss you,” Sirius said, frowning at him a little, but not lowering his hand from Remus’s face. 

“But…but you made a statement to the press! I thought you weren’t gay!” Remus said, his eyes darting across Sirius’s face in shock and his chest heaving.

But Sirius only raised one eyebrow and gave Remus a slow, sexy smile.

“I thought you didn’t pay attention to celebrity gossip,” Sirius said. 

“I don’t,” Remus replied, shaking his head, his voice still trembling terribly. 

“Good,” Sirius said, tracing his fingertips down Remus’s jaw now as he searched his face. “Because most of it’s—” 

“Not true anyhow,” Remus breathed as Sirius curved a hand around the back of his neck. 

“Exactly,” Sirius whispered against his lips, and they melted into a kiss.

Chapter Text

Sirius was seven years old the day he walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place to find the cooks huddled together around the sink, their heads bent low. 

“What are you doing, Miss Shirley?” Sirius asked the collective mass of chef’s whites that was their backs. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sirius!” cried the head cook, who jumped and pressed a startled hand to her heart. “You scared the daylights out of me! I’m about to start calling you Padfoot the way you sneak around so quiet.”

“Sorry,” Sirius mumbled, and hung his head. He didn’t mean to scare Miss Shirley. But he had to sneak around so quiet. Mother said children should be seen and not heard. And besides, she told Sirius he wasn’t allowed to come to the kitchens anymore. 

“Oh, come here, love,” Shirley said, and put a gentle hand under Sirius’s chin. “You’re not in any trouble, you hear?” 

Then she reached down and lifted Sirius onto the counter so he could see straight into the deep stainless steel sink, his little feet dangling over the cupboard. The sink was filled with what looked like long, nubby gray rocks. 

“Do you know what this is?” Shirley asked, holding one up. It was wet and smelled like the seaside. Sirius shook his head.

“It’s an oyster,” Shirley told him. “Your mother ordered too many, so we’re helpin’ ourselves to the rest.” 

“I don’t like oysters,” Sirius said, wrinkling his nose and thinking of the gross stews he had to eat at formal dinners. 

“You don’t like ‘em all gussied up the way your mother serves ‘em,” Shirley told him with that bit of naughtiness in her brown eyes that Sirius loved so much. “But we cooks know the best way to eat ‘em. You want to see?” 

Sirius nodded and watched Shirley lay the oyster flat in her palm, then wiggle a short, pointy knife into the oyster’s side, twisting it around until the two edges of the shell separated. She lifted the top half of the shell up like a jewel box, ran the knife around the inside once, and held it out to show Sirius. 

“That’s an oyster, fresh from the sea,” she said. “Don’t need anything special. It’s perfect just the way it is. Want to taste?” 

“It looks yucky,” Sirius said, wrinkling his nose at the slimy gray thing inside. It looked like bogies. 

“Looks can be deceiving, love,” Shirley said. “Watch Jerry, he’ll show you how it’s done.” 

Sirius looked up at one of the other chefs, who gave him a toothless grin before tipping his head back and slurping the slimy gray thing in one swallow. 

“Delish,” Jerry said. 

“Here, now you try it,” Shirley said, and handed Sirius the oyster. “You can eat it just like a real chef.” 

Sirius wanted to be a real chef very, very badly. So he took the oyster from Shirley’s callused fingers, lifted it to his lips, and slurped. It was like nothing he’d ever tasted before, and his eyes widened as the flavor exploded in his mouth and mind: Sweet, briny, and cold, as though he was tasting the essence of the sea itself. He chewed and swallowed, then licked the inside of the shell. 

“Can I have another?” he asked, looking up at Shirley with wide, hungry eyes. He had no idea food could taste like this.

“You heard the kid, Jerry!” Shirley said, pulling Sirius into a hug against her chest and kissing the top of his head. “Shuck him another!” 

Many years later, when Sirius looked back, he’d remember a handful of moments that shifted the trajectory of his life and changed who he was forever. That first taste of an oyster. Showing up at the Potter’s doorstep with nothing but a rucksack and a bruised cheek and collapsing into Effie’s arms. 

And this moment, right now, standing beneath the pearly moonlight on a cold December night and kissing Remus Lupin for the very first time. 

Their kiss was sweet and slow, and it knocked Sirius off his feet, stole the breath from his lungs, turned the universe inside out and upside down. Because it was more than a mere kiss. It was twin souls meeting, twining and braiding together in the magical winter starlight. 

But Sirius couldn’t know all that now. That knowledge would only come with time. All he knew now was the feeling of sweet bliss that came from the sliding softness of Remus’s lips; the feeling of Remus’s fingers gripping his own; the hungry, breathy sighs from Remus’s throat. Sirius lost track of time, lost track of everything. Nothing else mattered, only him. This. Now. 

Until—

“Daddy?”

Remus gasped a little as they broke apart and looked up at Teddy’s little figure, silhouetted in the open doorway several feet away at the end of the walkway. Sirius felt lightheaded, as though he’d just emerged from a gauzy, sugar-spun dream. But Remus wasn’t a dream, he was real and solid in his arms, their bodies still pressed against each other, their fingers still twined together. 

“Daddy are you out there?” Teddy said again, straining to see into the darkness. 

“Be right in,” Remus called, his trembling voice more than a little breathless. “Go help Maman set the table.”

“OK!” Teddy replied, and disappeared inside the house, shutting the door behind him. 

Remus took a shaking breath, and Sirius watched him carefully, searching for signs that he might panic again, that he might pull away. But instead, Remus turned his face up to Sirius’s, his brown eyes wide and shining, and gave him the most beautiful smile Sirius had ever seen. 

“Can you do that again?” he asked, squeezing Sirius’s hand and pressing closer.

“Anytime you want,” Sirius whispered, and happily obliged, sinking back into Remus like a warm bubble bath.   

“We should go inside,” Remus said 10 minutes later, the words coming between soft, desperate huffs of breath against Sirius’s lips.

“We really should,” Sirius nodded, then pressed a lingering kiss to the soft hollow of Remus’s throat. Remus sighed and softened in his arms, and oh, Sirius could listen to him forever.

“Maybe just another minute,” Remus said, and kissed him again.

Yet another 15 minutes passed before they finally walked into the house, the bright light strange and disorienting to Sirius’s eyes. He felt a little fuzzy and dazed as Remus turned to him in the front entryway. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked with a cheeky smile that made Sirius’s knees feel like jelly. 

“Starved,” Sirius replied, and before he knew what was happening, they were kissing again, delirious and lightheaded, winding together, sighing into each other. 

“Where the hell are you?” Tonks yelled from the kitchen. “I heard you come inside, get your arses in here! We’re ravenous!” 

“Sorry,” Remus called back. 

Then he gazed up at Sirius again with a dazed little smile. 

“If she knew the way you kissed, she’d be telling me to take my sweet time,” he said. “Dinner be damned.” 

Then he kissed Sirius one more time, long and lingering, before leading him into the kitchen.

“Bonsoir, Sirius,” Fleur said, looking up at them with a bright smile. “Did you enjoy your hike?” 

“Very much,” Sirius said. “Your wife is an excellent guide and naturalist.” 

“Oui, I agree,” Fleur said, pulling Tonks into a kiss. “My pretty little pixie of the woods.” 

“Sweet talker,” Tonks giggled, kissing her back before pulling a piece of aluminum foil off a beautiful, steaming tray of lasagna. 

“How was your day, Teds?” Remus asked, kneeling down to pull Teddy into a hug, and lord have mercy, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing Sirius had ever seen. 

“Good!” Teddy said. “Except Payton wanted to play fireman and I wanted to play chef, so he kept pretending my cake was catching on fire.” 

“Good practice, though,” Remus said. “I’ve caught things on fire in the kitchen before.” 

“Me too,” Sirius agreed. 

“You have?” Teddy asked, wide-eyed. 

“Not a cake,” Sirius said. “But definitely an oven mitt or two.” 

“Wow,” Teddy breathed. 

“Just imagine us in the kitchen together,” Remus said, looking up at Sirius from his knees on the floor and giving him an innocent, wide-eyed smile that didn’t quite conceal the cheekiness behind it. 

“Scorching hot,” Sirius agreed, barely containing his own grin. 

Just like the night before, dinner was wonderful. But unlike the night before, Sirius now knew what it felt like to kiss Remus, and kept glancing across the table at him as he helped Teddy with his lasagna and salad. He just couldn’t seem to look away, couldn’t get enough of watching him with Teddy, of taking in every detail of his face: the sweet spray of freckles across his cheeks, the way his lips curved around words, the slightly crooked incisor that was so cute when he laughed, the way he listened—really listened—so intently to every word his son said.  

Remus looked up and caught Sirius’s eye, and they shared a secret smile that made Sirius’s stomach swoop happily. Then Sirius took a bite of lasagna and did a double take.

“Mmm, goat cheese?” he said, swallowing and taking another bite. “So good.” 

He looked at Tonks, since she’d made dinner the night before, but it was Remus who answered. 

“Thank you,” Remus said. 

“You made this?” Sirius asked. “When? Don’t you sleep?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Remus said. “Our friend Pete gave us the last of his fall goat cheeses, and I wanted to use it right away. It’s been in the deep freeze.” 

“Wow. You’re a man of many talents,” Sirius replied. 

“Many, many talents,” Remus agreed with a small smile, not taking his eyes off of Sirius. 

“I look forward to discovering more of them,” Sirius said. 

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Tonks muttered under her breath, glancing between the two of them as they stared at each other across the table. “Remus, did you and Sirius have dessert before dinner?” 

“Hey, not fair!” Teddy cried, looking outraged. 

“Mummy’s just being silly,” Remus said, his cheeks reddening adorably. “Of course we didn’t.” 

“Right, I bet you saved plenty of room for later,” Tonks said, giving Remus a wicked grin that made his cheeks burn an even deeper shade of pink. Sirius wanted to dip him in chocolate. 

“Sirius, will you come decorate Daddy’s tree with us tomorrow? And watch Sirius Eats with us? And, maybe, will you also make brownies with me sometime?” Teddy asked, turning his big brown eyes up at him. 

Then Teddy added a small, “Please?” and Sirius’s heart melted a little. A lot. 

Wow, he was just putty in both Lupin boys' hands. 

“If it’s alright with your parents, I’d love to,” Sirius said. 

“I don’t think Daddy would mind sharing his tree with you,” Teddy said.

“No, I think Daddy would quite enjoy that,” Tonks agreed giddily, while Remus squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Yes, he will like to give you his wood,” Fleur said, and Remus choked on his lasagna. 

“Fleur!” Tonks screeched a shocked giggle, while Fleur looked bewildered.

“What?” she asked. “We were doing innuendo, no?” 

Too soon, dinner was over and it was time for bed. Everyone was sleepy, even Padfoot, who’d done nothing but sleep all day. 

“Goodnight, Sirius! See you tomorrow!” Teddy said. Then to Sirius’s surprise, Teddy wrapped his arms around his waist and gave him a big hug, resting his little curly-haired head against his stomach. Sirius hugged him back with his heart in his throat. This kid. 

“We’ll bring Teddy up to bed,” Tonks said as she and Fleur followed Teddy upstairs. 

“I’ll be right there,” Remus told her.

“Like I said last night,” Tonks replied, “no rush.” 

Then she blew him a kiss and disappeared upstairs. 

Sirius’s phone buzzed in his pocket, but he silenced it immediately as he and Remus walked to the front door together. Sirius bent over to clip on Padfoot’s lead then stood up so he and Remus were standing face to face in front of the door, just like the night before. They looked at each other for a moment, sweetly bashful, until Remus finally spoke. 

“I hope you liked dinner,” Remus said, his shyness fighting a little with the blushing smile on his face. 

“It’s up there with the best dinners I’ve ever had,” Sirius said, and Remus laughed and shook his head. 

“You’re lying,” he said. 

“I’m not. The lasagna was delicious, but great food isn’t just about the way it tastes. You know that,” Sirius said. “It’s about the hands that made it. The intention behind it. The love that went into it. The people you share it with.” 

“That’s lovely,” Remus said, looking at him thoughtfully. “Have you thought of food writing?” 

“Yeah. A lot, actually,” Sirius replied, marveling at how clearly Remus seemed to see him already. “Have you?” 

“No. I’m happy here.” 

“I’m happy here, too.” 

And before Sirius knew it, they were sinking into each other again, and oh, it was bliss, the feeling of holding this beautiful man in his arms. They kissed and kissed, lost in each other, floating away together, until a chime struck the hour. 

They’d been making out like teenagers for 25 minutes, standing in the chilly front entryway but not feeling even a hint of cold. 

Remus looked up at him, his eyes as cottony and dazed as Sirius felt, his lips reddened and kiss-swollen, and Sirius wanted him, wanted every part of him. He leaned down to kiss him again, and Remus moaned into it, melted into it. Had Sirius ever kissed anyone before now? 

Another chime. Another half hour. Time meant nothing anymore. 

Another buzz of Sirius’s phone. Unimportant. 

But then Padfoot whined and thumped his tail against the floor, and they finally, reluctantly pulled apart, both taking quick shallow breaths as they came back to earth. 

“Goodnight,” Remus said, his eyes soft and sleepy and lovely in the dancing firelight. 

Sirius drank him in once more, then put a soft hand to his cheek and kissed him again. 

“Goodnight,” Sirius whispered back, and slipped out the door. 

It felt like a little death, letting Remus go and stepping into the cold, dark night alone. But it was a good death, a sweet one, and Sirius’s heart felt buoyant, lighter than it had in years. Or maybe ever. He sighed happily to himself and looked up, and for the second time that night, he was stunned by the beauty in front of him. Had the stars always been this bright and bountiful? Sirius craned his neck upward, looking all around at them. They stretched across the curving sky, as though some joyful god had tossed handfuls of diamonds into the air as he streaked past riding a comet’s fiery tail. 

Sirius’s body was pleasantly tired and his mind was happy and free when he walked inside Rosehip Cottage. But then, his phone buzzed for a third time, and he finally pulled it out with a reluctant sigh.

“Hey, Doc,” Sirius said, hanging up his coat and hat and kicking off his boots.

“Sirius, are you alright?” Caradoc Dearborn’s nervous, clipped voice asked. “Where are you?”

“I told you, I’m on holiday.” 

“No, you did not tell me. I got your automated out-of-office reply and a string of cancelled meetings. You haven’t been responding to emails or texts. I thought you got hit by a bus. Or abducted.” 

“I’ve not been abducted. I’m. On. Holiday,” Sirius said again. He flopped onto the couch, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. 

“So what?” Dearborn said. “You’ve been on holiday before, you always answer emails. You went to Bora Bora last year and sat in on five conference calls.” 

“I guess that means I’ve never actually been on holiday before, doesn’t it?” 

“Sirius, just tell me where—” 

“Caradoc, I’m having a very nice, relaxing time somewhere peaceful and beautiful. Now, if there’s nothing else—”

“No, there is something else,” Dearborn interjected. “I wanted to apologize.” 

“Why?”

“For the way you’ve been treated.” 

“Which is?” 

“Like a commodity.” 

Sirius didn’t reply right away. 

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked finally. “Have three spirits come to visit you and show you the error of your ways?”

“Funny,” Dearborn deadpanned. “I mean it.” 

“Alright. Why the change of heart?” 

“It’s not a change of heart,” Dearborn said softly. “It’s a realization. I’m your manager. I don’t work for the network. I work for you. I should have never let the people in that room dictate your statement.” 

“The statement that I never wanted to make, you mean?” Sirius snapped, internally grumbling about how he could have been kissing Remus days sooner had it not been for that stupid, bloody statement.  

“Yes, that one,” Dearborn said. “I thought we were protecting you.”

“But…?” 

“But then you disappeared for four days! And I started to worry! And I realized I should have taken your part.” 

“Thank you.” 

“And I should have listened to you and talked about what you actually wanted to discuss in that meeting.” 

“Books.” 

“I know.” 

“Which I’ve been asking about for a year.”

“I know.” 

“My contract is up in January.”

Dearborn sighed heavily, and said, “I know” for a third time, but this time with a heavy dread shackled to the words. 

“We’ll have plenty of room to negotiate if you want more time to write books,” Dearborn said. “I’m sure the network will be willing to compromise on some things.” 

Sirius’s heart—which had felt light and free with the joyful happiness of losing himself in Remus, of reveling in the purity and joy of food—suddenly felt leaden, yanking him back down to earth. Willing to compromise. What if he didn’t want to compromise? What if…

There was silence on the line for a moment before Dearborn spoke again. 

“Will you be back for the live show?” Dearborn asked, and Sirius sighed.

“Yeah, of course,” Sirius said, rubbing his eyes wearily. 

“Because that part of the meeting was true. The live show is important. It’s all important,” Dearborn said, speaking faster now. “There are a lot of jobs riding on this, Sirius. It’s Christmas, and people have families, and you can’t–-” 

“Caradoc,” Sirius snapped. “I said I would be there. When have I ever let anyone down?” 

“Never.”

“Right. Never.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Fine.” 

“Will you check in on Monday?” 

“No.” 

“What about in a week?” 

“I have to go.” 

“But—” 

“I will see you in London, Caradoc. Do not call me again.”  

And with that, Sirius hung up and went to bed. 

The next morning, Sirius woke at 8:30 to a knock on his cottage door. He’d tossed and turned all night, but finally managed to get to sleep around 2:00 am by imagining he could count Remus’s freckles. 

“Special delivery,” Remus said, smiling at him from the porch, a breakfast basket in his hand, and Sirius’s worries evaporated. 

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest delivery boy there is,” Sirius said, tying his bathrobe (loosely on purpose) and leaning against the doorjamb to admire Morning Remus, who was possibly even better looking than Afternoon Remus and Evening Remus, although it was a close race. 

“You didn’t order anything today,” Remus said, blushing a little in that cute way of his, “but the people who wanted selfies with you were in the dining room. So I thought I’d save you from another awkward conversation and bring you breakfast.” 

“That’s incredibly thoughtful of you,” Sirius said, struck by the unselfish, considerate way Remus seemed to treat him. Like he was a person, not a product, someone who was worthy of care and attention, not because of anything Sirius could give him or do for him, but just by virtue of being himself. “Thank you.”  

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Or not eat,” Remus said with a worried smile. “And I might have had an ulterior motive, too.” 

“Oh, really? What?” 

“This.” 

And then they were kissing again, stumbling into the house and shutting the door behind them. A long time later, after Sirius had pressed Remus against the wall, and Remus had run his hands into Sirius’s bathrobe to feel across his chest (the loose tying thing worked exactly as planned), they finally pulled apart. 

“I think your breakfast has gone cold,” Remus panted, tipping their foreheads together. “Sorry.” 

“Worth it,” Sirius said. 

“Did you sleep alright?” Remus asked. 

“Eh. My mind was a little preoccupied,” Sirius confessed. “My manager called last night, demanding to know where I was.” 

“Didn’t you tell him you were leaving?”

“It may have slipped my mind.” 

“Wow. You really wanted out, huh?” 

“You have no idea,” Sirius said, taking Remus’s hand and playing with his fingers absently. “So. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Actually, I need to take a drive to Pete’s farm and pick up a few things. Usually, he makes deliveries on Fridays, but his daughter’s home from school with a broken collarbone. She’s Teddy’s age. So I told him I’d come to him and also make a few of his deliveries for him on the way home.” 

“Do you want some company?” Sirius asked, and Remus gave him a surprised look. 

“I’d love some, but… aren’t you trying to avoid being recognized?” 

“Yes, but I can’t hide from the whole world,” Sirius said. “And this Pete. He’s a friend of yours, right? Good bloke? Normal?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, then frowned. “I mean, he left a career at MI5 to become a dairy farmer. And he named all of his goats after Alice in Wonderland characters. So ‘normal’ is probably a relative term. But in the grand scheme of things… Yes. Normal. Ish. Normal-ish.” 

“Normal-ish is normal enough,” Sirius said. “If you don’t mind me tagging along?”

“Sirius, I’ve been dreaming about kissing you since the last time I kissed you, which was 10 whole seconds ago, so no, I don’t mind,” Remus laughed. 

“Here’s another kiss to hold you over, then,” Sirius said, and pulled him into one. 

Sirius quickly ate his breakfast—even lukewarm, the Cornish pasties were incredible—and got dressed, and before long, they were walking up the hill to the inn, where Remus’s truck was parked. It was rugged, old, and a little dirty, but sturdy looking. It had an old-fashioned stick shift and absolutely zero amenities. But it did have an enormous paper map book on the floor that looked about 30 years old and was covered in coffee stains. 

“What’s with the relic?” Sirius asked.

“Oh this thing? We’ve lived up here for four years, but I still sometimes get lost,” Remus said, pressing the clutch and shifting the truck into gear as he followed Sirius’s gaze to the old map book. “And the satnav doesn’t always get a signal, especially if the weather’s shit, which it looks like it’s going to be this afternoon. I thought I might need it for Pete's deliveries.” 

“Did you teleport back to the 90s to get it?” Sirius asked, and Remus laughed.

“You’d think so, right? It was one of the many things we inherited when we bought the buildings,” Remus explained. “There was also a wooden butter churn, about 55 old brown whiskey bottles, and a gigantic duffel bag filled with back issues of Playboy magazine from 1982 to 1989. I kept the map book. We put the butter churn in the lobby as a decoration. And Tonks and Fleur kept the Playboys.” 

Sirius laughed, too, leaned back in his seat as the truck jostled over the dirt-packed drive toward the main road, and gazed out the window at the wild landscape and slate-gray December sky. Tiny snow flurries were starting to fall, but the truck was cozy and warm. Sirius tipped his head sideways to look at Remus. He couldn’t believe that just a few days ago, he was fighting for his very existence in a stuffy London conference room, surrounded on all sides by people who wanted to monetize him, who looked at him and saw only a lucrative brand that was under threat. And now, he was here, surrounded by rolling hills and wide, open sky, sitting next to a man who made him laugh and think and sent his heart racing. 

“Can I ask you something?” Remus said carefully, glancing sideways at Sirius before looking back at the road. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Why did you put out a statement saying you weren’t gay?” 

Sirius sighed and looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t. Not really. My team did it. I didn’t even know what it said until I read it online.” 

“So they did it without your permission?” 

“Kind of,” Sirius said. “I’ve never been closeted. Not privately, anyhow. But my network and managers always thought I should keep it quiet. And at first, I just went along with it. I was young and brand new to the industry, and they told me that if I wanted a career in television, I should keep my mouth shut.” 

“That’s awful.” 

“Yeah, but 10 or 12 years ago, it was just standard. I mean, it's still standard, really. For every Jonathan Bailey and Andrew Scott, there are many, many more gay male celebrities who have been warned that coming out would be career suicide.” 

“Do you believe that?” 

“Honestly?” Sirius asked. “I don’t know. I hope not. But I’ve been told many times over the years that my appeal has less to do with my talent as a chef, and more to do with my looks. And given that straight women aged 25 to 50 are my main demographic, I would risk alienating them if I ruined their fantasy. Or so says the network. And on top of that, everyone keeps reminding me that it’s not just myself that I have to think about. There are a lot of people whose jobs would be in jeopardy if my career imploded overnight.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure for one person, though,” Remus said. “It doesn’t seem fair to you.” 

“As my father used to say, no one’s promised a fair life,” Sirius said bitterly.

“No, I suppose not,” Remus agreed. “But I do think, at the very least, we’re entitled to try to make our life a happy one.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“And for the record, I think anyone who insinuates that you’re not a genuinely talented chef can go fuck themselves,” Remus continued stridently. “Because I’ve now cooked with you and kissed you, and you are equally amazing at both.” 

“Thank you,” Sirius said, smiling involuntarily. “Back atcha.” 

Remus turned off the main road and into a long gravel driveway that ended at a stone farmhouse surrounded by barns and rolling fields that were empty save for a flock of grazing sheep.

“Do you mind if I remind you how amazing I am at kissing again?” Sirius asked the moment Remus put the truck into park. 

“I really think you should, I’m starting to forget,” Remus said, and within seconds, they’d unclipped their seatbelts and sighed into another kiss, every kiss somehow better than the last. 

But barely a minute had passed before a frantic knocking on the truck window made them both jump. A short, stocky man with a thatch of blonde hair was frowning into the window at them.

“Remus? Are you making out with Sirius Black, or am I still feeling the aftereffects of experimental psychedelics?” the man yelled through the glass. 

“Which seems more believable?” Remus asked as he cranked the window down. 

“It’s a tossup, really,” the man replied, looking Sirius up and down. “I don’t know if you could land Sirius Black. He’s very handsome.” 

“Thanks a lot,” Remus laughed, and they climbed out of the truck. “Pete, this is your hallucination, Sirius. He’s staying at the inn. Sirius, this is my former friend, Pete.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Pete said, shaking Sirius’s offered hand. He looked down at it, then back up at Sirius. “Wow, look at that! You’re solid!” 

“For now,” Sirius said.

“Very true,” Pete agreed. “Life is a tenuous illusion of stability, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really is, actually,” Sirius said. 

They chatted as Remus loaded up his truck with his own refrigerated order of butter, cheese, milk, and cream, along with orders for a handful of other restaurants and bakeries.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Pete said. 

“Don’t mention it,” Remus replied with a careless shrug, while snowflakes caught on his hair and eyelashes. 

“I hope you know,” Pete said, turning to Sirius with an earnest expression, “that you’re hanging out with the very best bloke in all of Northumberland. Maybe even all of England.” 

Remus rolled his eyes and started to say something—something self-deprecating, probably—but Sirius spoke first. 

“You know, Pete? I was starting to suspect that already. But it’s nice to have outside confirmation.”

They spent the rest of the day making Pete’s deliveries, and they didn’t even need to stop for lunch. Everyone seemed to want to give Remus “a little something for the road,” so they snacked on a smorgasbord of slices of calzone, hummus and pita chips, crispy samosas, shortbread biscuits, and even cups of tomato soup, which they drank straight out of paper to-go cups. The sun was setting and the snow was falling thick and fast by the time they finally rolled up at the inn. Alfie had checked in on Padfoot and even brought him over to Remus’s cottage. 

They walked inside, stamped the snow off their boots, and found Teddy laying on the living room rug in front of the undecorated Christmas tree and reading a book to Padfoot, who was lying next to him with his head resting contentedly on his paws while the fire crackled merrily in the hearth. 

“Daddy! Sirius!” Teddy cried, jumping up and running over to them. “Are you ready to decorate?” 

Remus laughed and kissed the top of Teddy’s head. 

“I think we need a few minutes, buddy,” Remus said. 

“Do you need to pee?” Teddy asked, looking at Remus with a concerned expression. 

“Actually, yeah, I do,” Remus said. “Kinda bad.” 

“OK,” Teddy nodded, as though granting him permission, then looked at Sirius. “Do you need to pee? It’s not good for you if you hold it, you know.” 

“I’ll pee, too,” Sirius assured him. “Don’t worry.” 

After they all peed, including Padfoot, they made homemade pizza. Because, as Teddy told Sirius, Friday night was “pizza, popcorn, and Sirius Eats night.” 

“You get to make your own!” Teddy said. “And you can put whatever you want on it! Except for marshmallows.” 

“Have you tried that?” Sirius asked. 

“Yeah,” Teddy nodded solemnly. “It’s very yucky.”

“Alright, thanks for the warning,” Sirius said. 

“You’re welcome.” 

They ate their pizzas (no marshmallows) and decorated the tree (Fleur was in charge of stringing up the lights because she didn’t trust the other two to do it evenly) and Teddy told Sirius all about every ornament. The ones he made at school, the ones he made at home, the ones he made with his grandparents Tonks, the ones they got in France when they visited Maman’s family, and the one that Moony broke last year that Remus glued back together. 

Teddy hung the ornaments where he could reach and forgot to move around much, which meant there was a big, crowded clump of them on one side. But no one “fixed” them, like Sirius’s mother would have done. Not that Sirius and his brother were ever allowed to decorate their Christmas tree. The “servants” did that. 

When it was time to put on the star, Remus lifted Teddy up high and let him do that, too. It was a little crooked, but no one seemed to notice. Instead, they all clapped as Teddy stuck it onto the top branch. 

“I think that’s the prettiest tree you’ve ever had, Rem,” Tonks said, stepping back and gazing at it admiringly. 

“You say that every year,” Remus replied. 

“It’s true every year,” Tonks shrugged. 

“It’s definitely the prettiest tree I’ve ever seen,” Sirius said, looking at the crooked star and messy ornaments and colorful lights. “It’s perfect.” 

Then Sirius felt a small hand in his. It was Teddy. 

“Guess what!” he said and pointed at the clock. “The big hand’s almost on the 12.” 

“And I haven’t even topped the popcorn yet!” Tonks cried, and rushed out of the room. 

Ten minutes later, they piled onto the couch just as the familiar electric guitar music started playing and a black star with two silver whisks appeared on the television screen. Teddy wiggled himself next to Sirius, which squished Remus and Sirius even closer, their thighs pressed together. Teddy reached for a handful of popcorn (rosemary parmesan this week) and Sirius reached for Remus’s hand, threading their fingers together. They exchanged a quiet look, and the noise of the opening credits seemed to fade away as Remus squeezed his hand and stared into his eyes. 

“I wonder what he’s making tonight,” Teddy mused, apparently forgetting who he was sitting next to and bringing Sirius back to reality. 

“Do you want me to tell you or do you want to be surprised?” Sirius asked, and Teddy gasped and looked up at him with wide, amazed eyes. 

“Tell me!” he said. 

“I’m making mince pies, homemade eggnog, and double-chocolate peanut butter brownies.” 

“Wow!” Teddy said. 

Sirius saw himself on the TV screen and immediately cringed. He never watched himself. But then, Remus leaned sideways and whispered in his ear.

“You’re even better looking in real life,” he said, and they exchanged another secret smile. Maybe watching Sirius Eats wasn’t so bad after all. 

“How come you don’t have any pictures or anything hanging on your fridge?” Teddy asked, while the Sirius on TV beat eggs in a stand mixer. 

“You mean that fridge?” Sirius asked, pointing to the television, and Teddy nodded. 

“I can color you a picture if you don’t have any,” Teddy offered.

“That would be so nice of you. But if you did that, I’d probably rather hang it on my fridge at home.” 

“But that is your home!” 

“Actually, I don’t really live there.” 

“You don’t?” Teddy cried, absolutely stunned. 

“No,” Sirius laughed. “It’s a set.” 

“What’s a set?” 

“It’s kind of like a fake kitchen. Well, it’s a real kitchen, but they built it inside a TV studio. And then they decorated it to look like someone’s flat.” 

“It’s so weird!” Teddy marveled, then jumped off the couch and ran up to the TV screen. 

“Is that a real stove?” he asked, pointing to it and looking at Sirius with wide eyes. 

“Yes, everything really works,” Sirius said. “But this is what the rest of that room looks like.” 

He pulled out his phone and showed Teddy pictures of the set: The huge cameras, the lights, the big boom microphones, the crew, and the industrial metal ceiling. 

“Where do you really live?” Teddy asked, and Sirius scrolled through his camera roll until he found pictures of his own small flat that had been taken on his birthday a few weeks ago when James, Lily, and Harry had come over with a cake and ice cream. 

“Hey, that’s Padfoot! And that’s Harry!” Teddy cried, then looked up at Sirius with a suspicious expression. “Is Harry really your friend or is that pretend, too?” 

“No, Harry’s real,” Sirius said. “And his dad, James, is my best friend. Kinda like a brother. And Harry’s mum, Lily, is also my friend. Harry is my godson.” 

“I know. You got him a train for Christmas.” 

“Actually, do you want to know another secret? I gave him that train for his birthday in July.” 

“July!?” Teddy cried. 

“Yup,” Sirius nodded. “We film these episodes a long time before you see them on TV. I just made an Easter episode last week.” 

Then Sirius pointed to the TV, where the television version of himself was walking outside. 

“See all that snow on the ground? It’s fake. And we put up Christmas decorations in that neighborhood just for the afternoon. It was actually really hot that day.” 

“But you’re wearing a coat and hat!” Teddy said. “And gloves!” 

“I was very, very sweaty,” Sirius told him. “And a little grumpy, too.” 

They watched the rest of the episode, which ended with Sirius bringing the brownies to a “Christmas party” at the senior center.

“Was that part real?” Teddy asked. 

“The party was real and the senior center was real,” Sirius assured him. “But they were playing Christmas songs in the summertime.”  

“I think this is the weirdest day of my life,” Teddy said, and Remus and Sirius caught each other’s eye over his head and tried their hardest not to laugh. 

Not long after, Teddy went to bed. He said goodnight to Sirius, then turned to his father. 

“Take your time,” he said, parroting Tonks from the two nights before. “If you want, you can kiss me goodnight right now.” 

“Don’t you want me to tuck you in?” Remus asked. 

“No. I think you should have a date with Sirius instead.” 

“What?” Remus choked. 

“The boy has sound logic,” Tonks agreed, then peeked out the window. “And it’s snowing something awful out there. It would be a shame if Sirius slipped and fell and couldn’t move and had to spend the night outside where he would develop frostbite and snap the nose off that pretty face of his.” 

“You should keep him dry,” Teddy said. 

“You should have a slumber party,” Tonks added. 

“Wait, I want to have a slumber party, too!” Teddy cried, but Tonks elbowed him.

“Hey! Be cool!” she whispered. 

“Sorry!” Teddy whispered back. 

“Goodnight,” Fleur said definitively. She took Tonks’s hand, then Teddy’s, and walked them away down the hall toward the other cottage. 

Remus and Sirius listened to their footsteps until they died away, then turned to look at each other in the now-quiet room. The moment their eyes met, the air between them palpably shifted. Suddenly, every breath felt heightened and charged with electricity, like that tingling, anticipatory buzz in the atmosphere before a lightning storm, when the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for the spark to ignite. 

“It is pretty bad out there,” Remus said. His voice was trembling slightly, but he took a step closer. “I’d hate for you to lose your nose.” 

“Yeah, that would suck,” Sirius agreed. “And I do like slumber parties.” 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had one,” Remus confessed, and he swallowed hard as he stared, unblinking, into Sirius’s eyes. “But I like them, too.” 

Sirius took Remus’s hand and lifted it to his lips, then turned it over and kissed his palm. Remus’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a shaking breath, his lips parting slightly. 

“Can I remind you of all the reasons you like slumber parties?” Sirius asked in a whisper, slowly kissing across Remus’s wrist, where his pulse raced under his lips. “And maybe give you a few new ones, too?” 

“Sirius Black,” Remus said, looking at him with starving, wanting eyes, his breath coming in shallow little gasps. “You can do whatever the hell you want.”

Chapter Text

It would feel strange soon, wouldn’t it? Dragging Sirius Black by the hand, pausing halfway up the stairs to kiss him again because they couldn’t stop, letting Sirius Black press him against the oak banister that Remus refinished last year, tipping his head back against the wall while he kissed down Remus’s neck, his tongue and teeth and breath feeling warm and sharp against his skin. 

It would feel awkward soon. It had to. Because Remus was stumbling into his tiny, moonlit bedroom overlooking the frost-covered orchard with Sirius Black, who kept his hands cupped softly around Remus’s face as he walked him backwards toward the bed, kissing him like he needed it to breathe. 

Remus’s insecurities would kick in soon, too, that never-ending loop in his mind leftover from when he was a scrawny, picked-on kid getting his arse kicked in an alley: Too skinny, too weak, too small, not strong enough, not man enough. Remus waited for that old, familiar voice in his head to start taunting. Because Sirius Black was pulling at the hem of his jumper with his long, tattooed fingers, saying things like beautiful and perfect as he pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. Sirius Black was kissing slowly down his chest, running his hands over his shoulders and stomach, looking at Remus like the rest of the world looks at him. 

Remus’s shyness would surely prevent him from pulling off Sirius Black’s shirt, too. Of course it would. It would stop him from laying back onto his bed atop the old quilt his mother made when he was little, before she was sick, and pulling Sirius Black down on top of him, sighing under his heavy weight, wrapping his arms around his back, moaning at the feeling of their bare chests touching. It would stop him from rolling his hips upward, slow and dirty, cupping Sirius’s arse—Sirius Black’s arse!—through his jeans to pull him closer, to feel the stiffness of their cocks straining against each other. 

Remus waited and waited for those thoughts to come. Because Sirius Black was sliding down the bed, kissing across his stomach, fingering open the button and zipper on his jeans, running his featherlight hands over his hips along the waistband of his boxers, teasing, wanting, reaching. 

“God, Remus,” Sirius Black murmured between kisses. “You’re so gorgeous. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you.” 

But those terrible, familiar things never came, even when Remus tried to summon them. He tried to ask, Why? Why would you want me? He tried to make some self-deprecating joke, tried to ask Sirius Black if he needed to get his eyes checked or his head examined. Because Sirius Black was in his bed, between his legs, easing his jeans off of him, worshipping his body, kissing, whispering, wanting him. 

Because he was just poor, skinny Remus from Manchester. 

But the words didn’t come. Neither did the awkwardness or the shyness or the worry. Instead, in Remus’s bed, atop the soft quilt from his mother, with moonlight washing across their skin and the pretty, frost-covered orchard outside, he wasn’t Sirius Black anymore. 

He was Sirius. 

Just Sirius. 

“I wanted you, too,” Remus whispered, the words coming easily, like fresh air through an open window, instead of any of those other things; those things that weren’t true anyhow, that hadn’t been true for a very long time, or maybe ever; those things that were drowned out and obliterated by the bright, beautiful star that was Sirius Black. 

That was Sirius. 

“I knew you were hot when I tasted your croissants,” Sirius whispered, and Remus closed his eyes and laughed out loud.

“That’s ridiculous,” Remus said, his stomach shaking with laughter underneath Sirius’s lips. 

“It’s not ridiculous! It’s true!” Sirius insisted. “That lamination was so sexy. Only someone really hot with amazing hands could have made that.” 

“I think you’re crazy,” Remus said. 

“I think I am, too,” Sirius agreed. “Crazy about you.” 

What was left of their clothes didn’t last long after that. 

Sirius’s body was as beautiful as the rest of him, better than any nighttime fantasy, and Remus gasped as Sirius’s hand drifted between his legs, remembering the way he’d brought himself off in this very bed to the mere thought of those hands. And now they were wrapping around Remus’s cock, pumping him with long, slow pulls.  

“Your hands… aren’t bad… either, you know,” Remus said, huffing out little moans with every stroke of Sirius’s loose fist around his cock. 

“Yeah?” Sirius whispered, hot against his neck, taking Remus’s earlobe between his teeth and sucking. Remus’s hips arched up under Sirius’s touch and his hands roved across Sirius’s broad, strong shoulders and back. 

“When you dragged your finger through the lemon buttercream and sucked it clean, I thought I was gonna pass out,” Remus told him. 

“Oh, you mean like this?” 

Remus gasped as Sirius’s tongue flicked over the head of his cock, slowly, torturously licking a bead of precome into his mouth like it was melting ice cream dripping down his hand on a hot summer day. Then, Sirius’s lips closed around the head and he sucked, swirling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks. He closed his eyes and swallowed Remus even deeper, his lips sliding tightly around the shaft, taking him as far as he could, until the head hit the back of his throat. 

Remus’s chest was heaving by the time Sirius pulled off, looking up at him with wide, blown-out eyes and little tears clinging to his black eyelashes. 

“No,” Remus panted. “Nothing like that actually. That would have killed me. Facedown in the buttercream.” 

Sirius laughed as Remus flipped him onto his back and straddled him, their thick cocks stiff and sliding together. Remus sat up and took them both in his hand, each getting even harder and thicker as he stroked. Sirius gripped Remus’s hips, digging his fingertips into the flesh, and watched their cocks slide in and out of Remus’s fist.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Sirius said, his voice shaking a little as Remus’s thumb ran back and forth across the heads of their cocks, smearing their precome together over the sensitive skin. 

“Hell of a grip, right?” Remus asked through a smirk and mimicking Sirius’s own words the day he watched Remus squeeze the piping bag. “I thought you were just teasing me that day in the kitchen.” 

“Like you’re teasing me now?” Sirius asked.  

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Remus replied, then leaned down and captured Sirius’s glorious lips, their tongues darting, starving and desperate, into each other’s mouths. They kissed and kissed, touching each other, exploring each other. Remus sucked Sirius’s neck, his fingers, his thick, perfect cock, and every part of him tasted better than the last. 

“God, Remus, I can’t get enough of you, I want you everywhere,” Sirius said, kissing him deeply, gripping his arms and rolling his hips, until finally, he sat up a little, looking tipsy and his chest heaving. “I think we should fuck.” 

Remus just froze and stared at him for a beat before Sirius continued. 

“I have a clean bill of health, and I’m on PrEP,” Sirius said, as though Remus needed any convincing.

“But we don’t have to,” Sirius added quickly. “If you’re worried. Or if you think we’re going too fast. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine. I understand.” 

Sirius kept talking, because Remus still hadn’t replied. He should probably do that at some point. 

But instead, Remus laughed. Because what did Sirius expect him to say? No, thanks, I don’t want to have sex with you, Sirius Black, the hottest man to ever breathe?

But now Sirius was looking at him with a slightly worried expression, and, Oh, no, Remus still hadn’t answered and… was Sirius nervous? Was Remus making Sirius Black nervous? 

Remus took Sirius’s face in his hands and kissed him, slow and sweet, and felt Sirius’s tense muscles loosen under his touch.

“Yes, Sirius, I would very much like to fuck,” Remus whispered against his lips.

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius breathed. “Because I would’ve had to defile your bathroom with a pathetic shame-wank if you said no.” 

Remus laughed and kissed him again. 

“You can defile me instead,” Remus said, and Sirius laughed, too. “How do you like to do it? Top or bottom?”

“Totally up to you,” Sirius replied, and Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“No preference?” 

“No,” Sirius shrugged. “You?”

“No,” Remus said. 

“Well, that’s a horse of a different color,” Sirius said with a delighted grin. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun together.” 

“I know,” Remus laughed. Goddamn, Sirius really was the man of his dreams. “How do you want to decide right now?” 

“Flip a coin?”

“I have no pants on. And therefore no pockets. And therefore no coins,” Remus said. “But even if I had pockets, they’d be empty. I haven’t carried actual money since before Teddy was born.” 

“I don’t have anything either,” Sirius said. “We could wrestle for it?” 

“That would be fun… Oh! I have something!” 

Remus scrambled out of bed and Sirius followed, both totally naked, out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Remus reached up and grabbed something hanging off a cabinet handle. 

“Wishbone,” he said, holding it up to show Sirius, who doubled over laughing. 

“I’ve done a lot of weird shit with food, but this is a first for me, Remus,” Sirius said, then looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on Remus’s hard cock, which bobbed heavily between them.

“You look really good naked in a kitchen, by the way,” Sirius said, shaking his head with a weak little laugh and gripping the edge of the counter.

“Thank you,” Remus replied. “You look so good, I’m trying not to look directly at you so I can keep enough blood in my brain to actually get to the bit where we fuck.” 

“Let’s get to that bit then, shall we?” Sirius said eagerly. 

They both hooked their pinkies around one side of the wishbone, then looked at each other. 

“We’re going to have to eat a lot of chicken if this becomes a regular thing,” Sirius said. 

“If this becomes a regular thing, I will eat whatever you want me to,” Remus said. 

They started to pull, but Remus stopped them.

“Wait, we still have to call it.” 

“Big side gets fucked?” Sirius asked, and Remus snorted another laugh. 

“Sounds good to me,” Remus agreed. “OK, ready? One, two, three.” 

They pulled and heard a sharp snap, then looked down at the big piece of bone in Sirius’s hand. 

“Big side gets fucked,” Sirius said again, arching an eyebrow, and Remus wasn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he felt his cock pulse, rock hard and throbbing. 

“I’ll get the lube,” Remus breathed, then kissed Sirius hard, pressing him against the counter until he was gasping. “Don’t move.” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Sirius whispered wickedly, tilting his head sideways and biting down on his bottom lip with darkened eyes.

Remus took him right there in the kitchen, bent over the counter in the dark. He slid into him, slow and tight and slick, with one hand wrapped possessively around his throat, the other working his cock while he licked and sucked the side of his neck. Sirius felt perfect, transcendent, his body taking every inch greedily. He moaned and babbled incoherently while Remus drove into him. God, please, fuck, you’re so big, so perfect, oh my god, never stop fucking me, please, Remus, please, god.

Then, Remus angled his hips up just right, and Sirius’s knees buckled. He reached a hand back with a gasp, grabbing a fistful of Remus’s hair and whimpering as Remus drove in and out, his hips slamming against SIrius’s perfect arse as he bottomed out again and again. Remus’s cock was tight inside him, pounding against Sirius’s prostate with relentless precision. Sirius’s whines got higher pitched, his muscles tightened and shook, his back arched and…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god, I’m gonna…” 

Sirius spilled, warm and wet over Remus’s fist, pulsing hard and shooting come straight out onto the kitchen cabinets. He came with a cry from deep in his chest and a sob, his body tensing, then softening in Remus’s arms. Then he moaned again, his head tipping sideways, his lips searching for Remus’s as Remus emptied into him a second later. Sirius’s walls throbbed and squeezed Remus’s cock as their orgasms pulsed on and on together. 

Sirius whimpered a little when Remus pulled out, and Remus replaced his cock with two gentle fingers, feeling the come leaking out around them as Sirius hummed in satisfaction. They kissed and kissed for a long time, the position awkward, but neither of them caring, until Remus’s thighs and hand started to cramp.

“Can I clean you up and take you to bed?” Remus whispered, kissing up Sirius’s neck and into his soft hair. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter,” Sirius sighed. 

Later, when they’d done just that, Sirius and Remus settled next to each other in bed. Sirius found Remus’s hand under the covers, threaded their fingers together, and brought them up to his lips for a kiss. 

“I thought you said it had been a while since you had a sleepover,” Sirius teased. “You seem ready to go professional.” 

“I guess it’s like riding a bike,” Remus replied. 

“Next time you can ride me instead,” Sirius said. He kissed Remus again then traced a soft finger over his lips. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Sirius murmured, his eyes raking across his face. “Can I tell you something?” 

“OK,” Remus whispered, and Sirius brought his fingertip up to the apple of Remus’s cheek next.

“When I couldn’t sleep last night,” Sirius said, tracing his finger gently over Remus’s skin, “I imagined counting your freckles.” 

Remus’s heart caught in his throat. This man, god, this man. 

“How many were there?” Remus asked, his voice barely coherent. 

“I got up to 53 before I fell asleep,” Sirius said. “But now that I’m up close, there’s more.” 

And he leaned forward and kissed the tip of Remus’s nose, then each cheek.

“I like every single one of them,” he said. 

“You do?” 

“I like everything about you.” 

“I like everything about you, too,” Remus replied. And he did. Everything. Every last thing.

They stared at each other in the dark for another long moment, before Sirius closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to Remus’s lips. 

“Goodnight, Remus.” 

“Goodnight.” 

The next morning, Remus woke with a start. 

“Remus! Remus!” Sirius whispered frantically, shaking him by the shoulder.

“What?” Remus rasped, the sun already streaming into the bedroom in little golden shafts.

“It’s after 7:00!” Sirius said. “Did you oversleep? Do you need to get to the inn?” 

“No,” Remus yawned. “We don’t serve breakfast on Saturdays.” 

“You don’t?” 

Then Remus opened his eyes all the way and gave Sirius a teasing smile. 

“It was all in your welcome packet. Didn’t you read it?” Remus asked. “Breakfast in the dining room Monday through Friday, with a room service option, and brunch on Sundays.” 

“Sorry, I was too busy imagining getting fucked by the brilliant chef who made my croissants,” Sirius said. 

“Understandable,” Remus said, and let Sirius pull him into a kiss, morning breath be damned. 

“Alright, I need coffee,” Remus said, and started to get up, but Sirius pressed a palm to his bare chest. 

“Let me get it,” Sirius said. “You’ve been making me breakfast all week.” 

“That’s because I’d get fired if I didn’t.” 

“Come on, I want to return the favor.” 

“Sirius, I can’t let you make me breakfast, you’re still a guest.” 

“Unless you regularly fuck your guests over your kitchen counter—in which case, I can see why you have a five-star inn with no vacancies—I think you can bend the rules for me a bit.”

“You really don’t have to do this.” 

“I know,” Sirius said, getting out of bed then bending down to kiss him again. “That’s why it’s fun.” 

“Do I have to stay in bed? Or can I watch you cook?” Remus asked, looking Sirius’s naked body up and down. He was so fucking insanely hot, especially in broad daylight, he thought his head would explode. 

Sirius regarded him carefully.

“I suppose I can allow that,” Sirius said, crossing his tattooed arms over his broad chest. “Got anything I can throw on so I don’t scorch my nipples over an open flame?” 

A few minutes later, they were downstairs, each in a pair of Remus’s gray sweats and a henley, when Remus’s phone buzzed: 

Tonks: did u have ur sleepover??? 

Fleur: I told you to wait until 8 to text him! 

Tonks: can’t u hear teddy?? he’s been up since 6 and wanting to crash into remus’s house

Fleur: I know, that’s why I gave him his iPad. 

Tonks: bribing our child, fleur?! REALY?!?!!?

Fleur: I did it for Remus! 

Remus: Do you want me to answer your question or are you just going to keep arguing via text when I know you’re sitting right next to each other on the couch?

Tonks: TELL US!!!!  

Remus: The sleepover is still ongoing

Fleur: Hooray! 

Remus: He’s currently making me breakfast

Tonks: morning-after breakfast from a celebrity chef??? THAT DICK BE FIRE🔥🔥🔥

Fleur: I’m taking her phone away now

Remus put his phone down, looked up, and nearly had to slap himself.

It was as though a sex-haze fantasy version of Sirius Eats had materialized in his kitchen.

Sirius was pulling ingredients from the fridge and cabinets with messy sex hair and wearing Remus’s sweats. He looked up and saw Remus watching him, then leaned over the counter and delivered him a cup of coffee with a kiss. 

“Just based on what you have onhand,” Sirius said, absently scratching his chest and lifting up his shirt slightly as he took inventory of the ingredients. “I’m thinking… something simple. Eggs florentine and lemon-ricotta pancakes?” 

“Will you at least let me make the Hollandaise?” Remus asked, watching Sirius separate eggs. 

“No, that’s the easy part. In fact, I’m going to make my five-minute, no-fail Hollandaise sauce that I want to use in my cookbook,” Sirius said. 

“I didn’t know you were working on another cookbook,” Remus said, sipping his coffee. 

“Another?” Sirius asked with a confused frown.

“Yeah,” Remus replied, pointing to a kitchen bookshelf. “I own at least three of yours.” 

“Oh! I didn’t write those,” Sirius said. “I mean, I kind of did. I wrote the recipes for the show, and the cookbooks are kind of cobbled together from that. Probably transcribed by some editorial assistant right from the script. That’s just the network wanting to ‘repurpose existing content and develop additional revenue streams.’” 

“So, what kind of cookbook do you mean?” 

“A real cookbook. One that I sit down and write myself. That’s more than just recipes.” 

“That’s cool. Have you started it?” 

“No,” Sirius sighed, and he sounded a little sad. “Not really. I’ve got so many ideas, but I haven’t had time to really sit down and give it the attention it deserves yet.” 

“Are you going to?” 

“They keep telling me I’ll be able to.” 

“Who’s ‘they?’” 

“My team,” Sirius shrugged. “My management. The network.” 

“Oh,” Remus said. “They have a lot of say in everything, huh?” 

Sirius laughed and shook his head as he zested lemons. 

“Yeah, unfortunately, they do. It’s funny, I grew up being very strictly controlled by my parents, and thought I was rebelling by running away and becoming a chef. But now… I guess I’ve accidentally re-created exactly the same scenario. Except in this case, if I run away, I’ll be abandoning more than just my family.” 

“Sirius, saving yourself isn’t running away. And it’s not abandoning anyone, either,” Remus said.

Sirius stopped what he was doing and looked up at him across the counter in wide-eyed amazement. 

“That’s exactly what James always says,” Sirius said softly. 

“He sounds like a smart bloke. Who has your best interest at heart.” 

“He does.” 

“Do ‘they?’” Remus asked. “Your team?” 

Sirius shook his head and looked down at the lemon in his hands with a small sigh.

“I really don’t know anymore.” 

“Will you tell me about your book idea?” Remus asked. 

Sirius looked up at him again, but this time with a soft shyness that Remus hadn’t seen before.

“No one’s asked me about it before. Do you really want to know?”

“I’m dying to know, actually.” 

“Alright,” Sirius said. 

At first he seemed a little shy talking about it, as though he wasn’t totally sure Remus was genuinely interested. But before long, his nerves had melted away, and he launched into an excited explanation of all his ideas. He wanted to write a cookbook that was more than just recipes, he said. Even more than just a food memoir. He wanted to write a book that recognized the way food was at the heart of so many moments and memories in our lives that shape who we are, what we believe, how we think, how we celebrate and grieve, how we mark milestones big and small. 

“And I want to leave space, actual blank space in the book, for people to write their own recipes and memories,” Sirius said. “And I want to share things that mean a lot to me and the stories behind them. Like this!” 

And he gestured around at the lemon-ricotta pancakes and eggs florentine that he was now plating and handing to Remus.

“If this was in the book, I’d call it “Best-Sex-of-My-Life Breakfast,’ and tell the story of meeting a handsome, wildly talented pastry chef at his idyllic, country inn,” Sirius said. 

Remus laughed. 

“I would buy that book in a heartbeat,” Remus told him. “It sounds brilliant.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that because I promised you could ride me like a bike?”

“I swear,” Remus said, and he was being truly sincere, even as he laughed at Sirius’s joke. “I can’t wait to have a copy on my bookshelf.”

“Someday, right?” Sirius said with a wistful sigh. 

“Yeah, someday.”

Remus took a bite of the pancakes, and immediately closed his eyes with a little moan.

“Oh, my god,” he said. “These are amazing!” 

“Thank you!” Sirius replied. “Oh wait!” 

And he reached over with a little metal sieve and finished the pancakes with a delicate dusting of powdered sugar. 

“It could use a sprig of something for a garnish, too,” Sirius shrugged. “But your cupboards are bare. All you have is cilantro.” 

“I went through a little chimichurri thing last week,” Remus replied, and Sirius laughed and kissed him again. 

They laughed and ate and chatted all morning, and even kept talking in the shower, before and after Remus fell to his knees to thank Sirius for breakfast. 

“I do have to get to the inn soon, though,” Remus said, looking at the clock. “I’ve got that biscuit-making class at 2:00, and I need to set up for it. Do you still want to come?” 

“Desperately!” Sirius replied. “I’ve been looking forward to it for a number of reasons, namely watching you make dough and listening to you tell people what to do. And if you want to boss me around a little extra while you’re at it, don’t hold back.” 

*******************

A few hours later, Sirius gave Padfoot lunch and took him for a walk, while Remus set up for his class. He had just left Padfoot back at Rosehip Cottage, when Teddy came tearing down the gravel road calling his name.  

“Sirius! Sirius!” Teddy cried. “Can I walk to the inn with you?” 

“Are you taking the class, too?” Sirius asked, and Teddy lifted his chin and drew his shoulders back.

“Nope! I’m Daddy’s special helper!” he said proudly.

“Oh! Then, in that case, I’d be honored to walk to the inn with you,” Sirius told him, and they set off. 

“Did you have fun at your sleepover?” Teddy asked, bending over to pick up a rock, then hurl it across the meadow as they ambled up the hill.

“I had a great time.” 

“Did you toast marshmallows? And watch movies?” 

“No, we just talked a lot.” 

“Oh,” Teddy said. He sounded disappointed. “Was it boring?” 

“Not at all!” Sirius laughed. “I really like talking to your Daddy.” 

“I had a sleepover at Peyton’s once. We toasted marshmallows and ate pizza. Then we watched Wreck it Ralph and played flashlight tag and Peyton’s little brother threw up.” 

“Sounds exciting,” Sirius said.

“It was,” Teddy agreed. 

By the time they arrived at the inn, the kitchen was already filled with students and Christmas music. In addition to Sirius, there was also Ellie, Natalie, and the blondest couple Sirius had ever seen, who were named Sunny and Sven. They were visiting from Norway and, miraculously, didn’t know who Sirius was, either. 

Everyone was sitting on metal stools around the counters and wearing black aprons in the brightly lit kitchen. Each person’s station had a recipe card, ingredients and tools laid out beautifully on individual metal trays, a glass of champagne, and a little plate of appetizer-y snacks and sweets to munch on.

Teddy started to run toward Remus as he and Sirius stepped through the swinging kitchen door, then seemed to remember something and stopped himself mid-stride. 

“No running in the kitchen,” Teddy whispered to Sirius, and he slowed to a dignified walk.

“Thanks for the warning,” Sirius said. 

Remus stood at the front of the room and gave Sirius a little smile as they walked in. He, too, was wearing a black apron, along with black work pants and a tight-fitting white t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. He looked… well, he looked fucking amazing, and if they hadn’t been surrounded by guests and Remus’s 7-year-old son, Sirius would have shoved him against the fridge door and taken him right over the stand mixer. 

“Good job not running,” Remus said to Teddy, kissing the top of his head, taking his coat, and helping him put on his own apron, which had “Teddy” embroidered in white script across the top. Then the two of them faced their students and Remus started to speak.

“Hi, everyone! I’ve met all of you at some point during your stay, but I’m Remus, I’m the chef here at Silver Moon B&B, and this is my son, Teddy, who is a wonderful chef in training and will be assisting us during our Christmas biscuit decorating class.” 

“Hi!” Teddy called with a wave, and everyone laughed and said hello back. 

“Today we’ll be baking and decorating classic sugar cookies with royal icing,” Remus said. “You’ll each leave here with your own beautiful cookies that you’ve decorated yourselves, plus a gift from the inn containing our biscuit mix, a recipe card, and biscuit cutters for you to take home. Are you ready to get baking?” 

Sirius spent the next three hours watching Remus in complete awe. Not only was he handsome and funny and friendly, but he was a natural teacher, who explained everything in a way that was easy and fun, from why you needed to cream together the butter and sugar, to how to flood icing onto a biscuit. 

Teddy walked around helping, too, giving people extra toothpicks or food coloring, and even giving them a baking tip or two.

“You need to aerate your flour before you measure it,” he reminded Sunny and Sven.

Moreover, everyone in the room hung on every word Remus said, watching him intently as he demonstrated the proper way to roll out perfectly even dough, how to cut the biscuits so they wouldn’t stick to the cutters, and how to tell when the biscuits were perfectly baked, soft with just a touch of brown around the edges. 

And damn, Sirius couldn’t help thinking how amazing Remus would be on television. The camera would adore the beautiful lines of his face; his cheeky, shy smile; and his hands—good lord, his hands!–-and so would audiences. 

But then, a wave of protectiveness washed over him as he pictured his network execs closing in on Remus like a pack of hungry hyenas, trying to lure him into the blinding spotlight before they pounced. They’d be absolutely feral for someone like him, who was made of pure, raw talent and charm, and Sirius imagined himself diving in front of Remus to fend them off with a stick, warning them to “Step away from the adorable innkeeper! He does not want to be on TV!” 

“That’s not how you do it!” Ellie said, her voice cutting through Sirius’s thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re supposed to outline first, then flood,” Natalie chimed in. 

“Oh,” Sirius nodded, looking down at his biscuit, which he had, indeed, neglected to outline with icing. He’d never been great with fussy decorations. “Thank you. My mistake.” 

“You’ve been doing it wrong the whole time,” Ellie said. 

“Maybe Remus should show me again,” Sirius said, looking up at Remus with a naughty smile as he walked by to check on their work. “I just can’t get the hang of it.” 

Then he held up the piping bag, holding it between the tips of his fingers like it was a pencil.

“Am I holding it right?” he asked with wide eyes as Remus shook his head slowly at him and tried not to grin.

“No,” Remus said. “You have to hold it in your palm. Then wrap your fingers around it and squeeze.” 

“You mean like this?” Sirius asked, and held it backwards. 

“You’re still not quite getting it,” Remus told him, slinging his hands in his apron pockets, and mother of god, no one had ever looked as good in an apron as Remus Motherfucking Lupin did right this second.

“Do you think you could help me?” Sirius asked.

“Sure,” Remus said, and he took a few steps until he was standing directly behind him, his hips pressed against Sirius’s arse where he sat on the stool. Then, Remus leaned forward, chest to back, and wrapped his arms around Sirius, taking the pastry bag out of his hand, placing it correctly, and curving Sirius’s fingers shut around it with his own so their fingers were laced together. 

“Does it feel good in your hand?” he asked softly against Sirius’s neck.

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered back, his head bowed over his biscuits.

“Good. Now you want to squeeze it,” Remus breathed, his lips just barely grazing the shell of Sirius’s ear, and Sirius inhaled a shaking breath despite himself. “Not too hard. Just enough. Like this.” 

Sirius felt a gentle pressure on his own fingers as Remus squeezed icing from the bag. 

“Then once you get the hang of that,” Remus continued, “you can move it around a bit. Just an outline. Right at the edge.”

And he slowly and gently directed Sirius’s hand over the edges and top of the biscuit, outlining it with the sweet, sticky icing. 

“Perfect,” Remus whispered, then leaned back far enough to look into Sirius’s eyes. Their faces were inches apart, and Sirius could have leaned forward and kissed those perfect lips in a second, he could have—

“Remus? I think I messed up!” Sven called from across the room, looking incredibly distressed as he stared down at a huge glob of icing laying in a messy pile on his tray. 

“Be right there,” Remus replied, before looking at Sirius once more, his eyes lingering on his lips before drifting upward again. 

“Practice while I’m gone. With hands like yours, I expect perfection,” he whispered with a naughty smile, and walked across the kitchen, while Sirius practically shook with want. Fuck.

By the end of class, Sirius felt like Remus was edging him with icing. But everyone else was too enamored of their own creations to notice. 

“Another wonderful day, Remus!” Natalie said, rushing forward at the end of class to show him her snowman, on which she’d iced a corncob pipe, a button nose, and a scarf decorated with strange yellow blobs.

“It’s Melissa Ethridge,” she said, pointing to the blobs. “See? That’s her hair! And her guitar!”

“Oh, right!” Remus nodded, squinting at a spot that looked nothing like hair or a guitar. “Beautiful. I’d come to her window any time.” 

“Natalie’s always been an artist,” Ellie nodded proudly. “She carved our walking sticks.” 

“Are you going to eat it now, or would you like to pack it up?” Remus asked, gesturing down at the biscuit.

“Actually, Ellie and I have shadow boxes where we display souvenirs from our travels,” Natalie said. “How well do you think it would keep under shellac?” 

Sirius had another wonderful dinner with Remus and his family, and listened, half mortified, half amused, as Teddy relayed a blow-by-blow of the class to Fleur and Tonks.

“Sirius kept making his outlines wrong, so Daddy told him he needed to practice edging, and Sirius asked Daddy if he would punish him if he got it wrong. So I told Sirius don’t worry because Daddy only does time-outs, he doesn’t even yell, but sometimes he scolds and says you can’t watch TV for a bit. And then Sirius told Daddy he didn’t mind punishments and Daddy said he’d remember that for next time.” 

“Yes, Teddy, that’s… wow… that is every single word we said,” Remus nodded weakly, his cheeks scarlet, as Tonks cackled into her steak chimichurri. 

“Are you having another sleepover tonight?” Teddy asked after dinner as Sirius stood to leave.

“Not tonight, Teds,” Remus replied.

“How come?” Teddy asked with a deep yawn. 

“Brunch day tomorrow,” Remus said, and Sirius knew that was shorthand for getting up very early and doing a lot of work.

“Oh, yeah,” Teddy said. “I forgot.” 

Then he turned to Sirius with sweet, sleepy eyes.

“Do you want to make brownies with me tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” Sirius said. 

“OK. ‘Night.” 

“Goodnight.”

They watched him shuffle up the stairs with Fleur and Tonks, then walked to the front door. 

“I feel like I keep saying this, but thank you for another amazing day. And morning. And night,” Sirius said, taking Remus’s hand and brushing his thumb across his cheek. “Everything was so fun.” 

“You weren’t bored in class, were you? I know it was basic stuff,” Remus said. 

“I learned how to edge. It was invaluable,” Sirius said, and Remus’s cheeks flushed that adorable pink again as he shook his head.

”I can’t believe Teddy. He hears fucking everything.” 

“And remembers it. And repeats it!” Sirius laughed. 

“Yup! Sorry about that.”

“It was cute,” Sirius told him. “You’re both cute. Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“In the evening, if you’d like,” Remus said. “Brunch day is a grind.” 

“Maybe I can help you relax afterwards. Go for a bike ride.” 

Remus laughed. 

“I’d like that,” he said, then leaned up and kissed him. It started out soft and slow, but soon turned breathless and hungry, pressed against the door, their hands roving over each other’s bodies. Finally, the clock struck 10 and Remus reluctantly pulled away. 

“I’ve got to get to bed,” he said, and he looked sleepy and sexy and perfect. Sirius kissed him once more, then clipped on Padfoot’s lead and opened the door to the dark, chilly night.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Sirius said. 

Remus bit his lower lip and let out a shallow little breath. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered back.

Sirius woke the next morning absolutely starving, and realized with a groan that he hadn’t ordered any breakfast. He really, really wasn’t in the mood for a crowded brunch in the dining room, so he sighed, threw on clothes, grabbed his keys, and reluctantly headed out to drive into the village to find a quiet coffee shop. 

But when he opened the door and stepped outside, he nearly tripped onto the porch. 

There, at his feet, was an enormous basket, filled not only with breakfast, but a large box. He brought it all inside, and although the breakfast smelled wonderful, he opened the box first and found a padded bag with a laptop inside along with a handwritten note.

“In case you want ‘someday’ to be today. XOXO, Remus.”

Chapter Text

Remus’s footsteps crunched along the gravel path as early morning sunlight sparkled over each frosted, glittering blade of grass in the rolling meadows all around him. Like always, he was up with the dawn, ready to start his day of farm chores and kitchen tasks. 

But unlike always, he wasn’t alone.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Sirius had said in a raspy, early morning voice, pulling Remus into a kiss as he greeted him by the garden gate of Rosehip Cottage. 

They’d fallen into an easy routine over the past week. Sirius would meet Remus in the morning to help him around the farm and the inn, gathering eggs, prepping breakfast, and having coffee together. Then, they’d go their separate ways, with Sirius spending the day writing on Remus’s old laptop while Remus worked around the inn as usual. 

They’d meet again for dinner each evening, then Remus would put Teddy to bed and slip over to Rosehip Cottage by the light of the stars and moon. But when he got there, they didn’t need a wishbone anymore. Instead, they followed their whims… to the couch, the bed, the shower, shoved up against the fridge, sprawled out on the living room rug, bent over the kitchen counter (that was a favorite), or propped up on the bathroom sink. And through it all, kissing and touching and sighing into each other as though their lives depended on it.

“I thought about how your legs would feel wrapped around me the first time I saw you,” Sirius had panted one night, sitting up against the headboard and gripping Remus’s thighs, which were, indeed, wrapped around his waist. 

“How’s the real thing?” Remus had replied, his voice breathy and shallow as he rode Sirius’s cock, taking him slow and deep with every roll of his hips, holding onto the headboard with one hand and Sirius’s shoulder with the other. 

“Better than anything I could have imagined,” Sirius said, running his hands up Remus’s legs and splaying them wide over his arse, lifting him up and down, and looking up at him as though he was the most beautiful thing on earth. Remus leaned down to kiss him, and they both moaned at the new angle. Fuck, there was nothing in the world that felt as good as having Sirius inside of him. Except maybe being inside of Sirius. Neither could decide which they liked better. 

“We’ll just have to keep trying to figure it out,” Sirius had said. 

And don't get Remus wrong. The "figuring it out" part was fun. But what was even better, somehow, were the moments after, laying in each other’s arms as they talked and revealed tender bits of themselves. Remus rested his head against Sirius’s chest and traced the lines of black ink with the tips of his fingers and Sirius kissed across Remus’s freckles, and they both wanted the story behind all of it. What did this tattoo mean? Where did you get this scar? What patch of sunlight were you sitting in when these freckles popped out for the first time? Tell me about your first kiss, your favorite song, the best meal you ever ate.

And deeper things, too. Like how Sirius didn’t realize how abusive his parents were until his father hit him for the first time.

“I always thought that ‘abuse’ meant physical abuse. And that if they weren’t hitting me, I wasn’t really being abused,” Sirius said. “That maybe I was just being overly sensitive, or a brat, or a baby. Or even that I deserved it a little, for being all the things they didn’t want me to be. And I could talk myself out of the idea that they were abusive because they didn’t actually hit me. But when they finally did? It all came crashing down. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.”

Or like how Remus never told his mother that he dropped out of school, that she never knew, that he kept it secret until the day she died.

“She thought I was paying the bills with an after-school job,” he said. “I lied to her every single day. I even made up stories about things that happened at school, just so I’d have something to tell her. But it would’ve broken her heart if she knew the truth, and she would have felt guilty, too. I couldn’t let her feel that way. Because I still don’t regret a single second of it. I’d do it all over again if it meant I could take care of her without her worrying about money or that I was getting into trouble. She didn’t have long left anyhow. I just wanted her mind to feel at ease at the end.”

Or that Sirius, for as long as he could remember, had felt like he'd been trotted out like some show pony. First as the little Black family "heir," dressed up in finery, with his hair perfectly combed and his clothing stiff and uncomfortable, but beautiful to look at. He was perfect... as long as he didn't say too much. 

"'Isn't he handsome?' people would say, and it was the only time my mother seemed like she could tolerate me," Sirius said. "And now...well, sometimes my life feels remarkably the same as it did then."

Or how Remus would sometimes think about how "lucky" Teddy was to grow up so differently than he did.

"Then I realized, it's not 'luck' at all," Remus said. "We made this place. We built this life. For him. And for us."  

Now, they walked away from Rosehip Cottage together, talking the whole way as though they hadn’t just seen each other hours earlier, and wrapping their arms around each other against the bitter cold gusts of early morning wind. Remus barely even thought about what it all meant, almost as if he didn't need to. It just felt so natural, so right, the way Sirius fit so easily into his life, into their life. As though Remus had been saving an empty chair at their kitchen table, waiting for Sirius to sit in it. 

A few minutes later, they took shelter in the chicken coop and immediately got to work. 

“We meet again, girls,” Sirius greeted the sleeping hens as he reached under them. “Don’t mind me.” 

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Remus said as he watched Sirius gather handfuls of eggs and drop them into the bucket. “You don’t even look afraid anymore.” 

“That’s because I Googled whether chickens have teeth and found out that they don’t,” Sirius said. “So I’m no longer worried about losing a finger to an angry hen who doesn’t want my hand anywhere near her cloaca.” 

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, though, than one of the chickens stood up and stretched her wings with a fluttering squawk.

“Ahh! Fuck!” Sirius cried, jumping back and making Remus double over laughing. “They still freak me out when they do that, though!” 

And then Sirius was laughing, too, and they were kissing again in the middle of the chicken coop, surrounded by hens, with straw crunching under their feet and eggs still in their hands, and little shafts of morning sunlight making Sirius's face glow even brighter, all these little pieces of Remus's life that added up to something big. 

A few minutes later, they were inside the inn’s kitchen, moving easily through Remus’s early morning tasks as though they were waltz partners floating across the dance floor. On the buffet menu today was a dish of Sirius’s that he planned to include in the book: Spiced currant bread pudding with hot buttered rum sauce and vanilla whipped cream. And that was easy, too, with Sirius slipping his own food and memories onto the inn's menu, like it had always belonged there. The bread pudding smelled heavenly as it baked, filling the kitchen with the scent of cinnamon, cloves, and sweet currants, while Sirius whisked the bubbling sauce in a pan on the stove. 

“This is a variation of a breakfast that James’s mother used to make,” Sirius told Remus, as he took the pan off the heat, added the rum and vanilla, and slid it back over the flame. “I use brioche in mine, but Effie always used whatever stale bread she had lying around, never anything special or fancy, and it still tasted like pure love in every bite.” 

“That’s beautiful,” Remus said. “You should write that down for the book.” 

“Good idea,” Sirius agreed, pulling out his phone and typing himself a note.

“How’s the writing going? Still good?” Remus asked. He poured them both cups of coffee and leaned across the counter, resting his chin on his hand, while he waited for the dough to chill for his honey-lavender scones. 

“Great, actually,” Sirius said. “I can’t test recipes yet, of course. But that’s the easy part for me. The actual writing and storytelling is what I really need to work on, and it’s going amazing so far.” 

“That’s great,” Remus said.

“I actually can’t believe it. At first, I opened up the document and just stared at the blank page and panicked. Like, ‘What am I thinking? I’m not a real writer!’” Sirius said. “But then I said, Fuck it!’ I’ve had people say I’m not a real chef, either. They don’t get to decide. I do! And what’s a ‘real’ writer anyhow? A writer is someone who writes. So I just started writing. And once I did, I couldn’t stop. It feels like it’s all been inside of me for so long, just waiting to come out.” 

“It probably has been,” Remus agreed. 

“Of course, I have no idea if it’s any good,” Sirius said with an embarrassed little laugh, looking down at his hands the way he always did when he talked about his book, his dark eyelashes fanning across his sharply carved cheekbones. “It might be total shit. But at least I’m doing it.” 

“Sirius, if you write about food anywhere close to how beautifully you talk about it, then I know it’s going to be wonderful.” 

“Really?” Sirius asked softly, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes, and there it was again, that quiet, vulnerable uncertainty that was so different from Sirius’s usual demeanor. Perhaps it was always there, hidden away under a thick, protective layer of swaggering confidence.

“Really,” Remus assured him.

“Thank you,” Sirius said. 

They leaned across the counter to meet in a kiss, then jumped apart when Alfie came bursting through the swinging kitchen door. 

“Is kissing in the kitchen sanitary?” he asked, dropping the box of vegetables and herbs onto the counter and pulling the breakfast basket orders out of his back pocket.

“It was just a peck,” Remus said. 

“How do you know he doesn’t have a backroom deal with the health inspector?” Alfie asked, nodding toward Sirius. “That he’s not trying to nab you for minor infractions?” 

“He’s right, Remus, you never know,” Sirius agreed, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “You have no idea who I'm really working for.” 

“Why do you encourage him?” Remus whispered, and Sirius only laughed. 

“And as for you!” Alfie said, turning to Sirius defiantly. “I snog Isla in here all the time.”

“You do?” Remus asked, but Alfie ignored him and kept talking. 

“But you’ll never catch us at it. We’re like panthers in the night,” Alfie continued. “And nothing, nothing, will stop our love. So you might as well give up now.” 

“Should I just keep kissing Remus, then?” Sirius asked. 

“I can’t see why not,” Alfie shrugged.

So Sirius pulled Remus into another kiss, while Alfie whistled “My Heart Will Go On” and washed the freshly picked bunches of mint. 

The three of them worked side by side for another hour until it was time to set up the buffet and deliver the breakfast baskets. 

“Do you need anything special for the Geminid hike tonight?” Alfie asked as he double-checked each breakfast basket against its order form.

“Nope, Tonks replaced all the batteries in the headlamps yesterday,” Remus assured him. “We’re good to go.” 

“What’s the Geminid hike?” Sirius asked. 

“It’s a night hike that Tonks leads this time of year,” Remus explained. “To see the Geminid meteor shower. She’s been waiting for a clear night. They hike out to the top of a little hill and watch it.” 

“That sounds incredible,” Sirius said.

“Guests really love it. Some people come just for that, actually, because we have clear skies without much light pollution and Tonks does such a great job leading it,” Remus said. 

“So it’s fun?” Sirius asked. 

“I’ve actually never gone,” Remus admitted. “I’m usually very asleep by that time of night.” 

“Not lately, though,” Sirius said with a cheeky smile, and Remus felt his face warm.

“No, not lately,” Remus agreed. “I have been staying up well past my bedtime this week. Someone’s been a bad influence on me.” 

“Or a good influence on you,” Sirius replied.

“Or that,” Remus agreed. 

“Any chance you’d fancy being my date, then?” Sirius asked. “If you don’t fall asleep first, that is.” 

“I think I can keep my eyes open for you,” Remus said, and leaned over to give Sirius another kiss.

“Sanitation!” Alfie yelled, and they jumped apart. 

A few hours later, Remus had greeted the last of that afternoon’s newly arriving guests with glasses of champagne and macarons in the lobby and talked them through the inn’s amenities and activities. 

“We’ve got a meteor shower hike tonight; a foraging hike on Thursday afternoon; Northumberland ghost stories by the fire on Friday night with our resident paranormal expert, Alfie; and next Saturday, we’re hosting a Victorian Christmas party here in the dining room,” Remus told guests as they arrived. 

He was just about to shut down the kitchen and call it a day, when Teddy came tearing into the lobby from outside, his red knitted hat sliding sideways off his curls like it always did. 

“Daddy!” he cried. “Can I have two teaspoons of instant coffee granules?” 

“Well, hello to you, too,” Remus said, bending over to kiss his son on his sweaty forehead. “You seem wild enough. I don’t think you need coffee, too. Did you run here?”

“Uh huh!” Teddy said breathlessly. “Me and Sirius were making Wicked Chocolate Brownies for the hike tonight, but then he realized he forgot to get instant coffee granules, and I told him I bet you had some at the inn. So he said we should run over!” 

“I didn’t mean… you needed… to literally… run!” another voice said, and Remus looked up to see Sirius, red-faced and clutching a stitch in his side, as he staggered into the lobby behind Teddy in his heavy boots and leather jacket. 

“Teddy takes everything you say very, very seriously,” Remus said, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, I got that impression,” Sirius replied. 

“Were you at our house?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed. “We were gonna surprise you.” 

Then Sirius raised a pair of exhausted jazz hands into the air.

“Surprise!” he said weakly. 

“So can I?” Teddy asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tugging at the hem of Remus’s jumper.

“Can you what?” Remus asked. 

“Have some instant coffee?” Teddy asked. “Sirius says it makes chocolate taste even chocolatey-er!” 

“He’s right, and you can,” Remus said. He went into the inn’s kitchen to retrieve the little jar of instant coffee, then returned and handed it to Teddy. 

“A little goes a long way,” Remus warned Teddy, handing it over.

“OK,” Teddy nodded solemnly, then turned to Sirius. “Did you hear that?” 

“I did. Thanks for the heads up, Remus.” 

“No problem.” 

“OK, bye!” Teddy cried, and tore out the door, the bell jangling over his head as he ran off into the chilly afternoon sunset.

“Do we have to run back, too?” Sirius called after him wearily, jogging down the hill in his wake. “Can’t we stroll?” 

Half an hour later, Remus rounded the corner to his cottage and saw something that stopped him in his tracks. 

There, illuminated in the kitchen window, were Teddy and Sirius, standing side by side at the counter, wearing matching aprons and measuring ingredients into metal mixing bowls. The cold wind whipped through Remus’s hair but he barely noticed as he watched them through the glass like a silent film reel: Teddy carefully scooping cocoa powder into a measuring cup, leveling it off and holding it up to show Sirius; Sirius smiling at him and nodding encouragingly as Teddy poured it into the bowl. Sirius handing Teddy an egg and Teddy carefully cracking it. Sirius saying something that Remus couldn’t hear and Teddy smiling up at him, his little face alight with happiness. 

Remus stared through the glowing kitchen window with a hand pressed over his heart, his breath coming in small, shallow inhales. They were so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at them. 

Remus walked into the house, as though floating through a dream, then stood in the doorway for another moment, practically holding his breath. He watched the two of them together, their backs turned to him, as Sirius reminded Teddy to “stir really good!” 

“Scrape down the sides and all across the bottom,” Sirius said. 

“Like this?” Teddy asked.

“Perfect,” Sirius said, smiling down at him and ruffling his hair with so much affection that Remus thought his heart would burst with it all. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and something else, too, a silly, foolish feeling that he tried to push away. It was too soon. They barely knew each other. But it came anyhow, as clear and true as the morning sun rising over the hills.  

My boys. My loves.

**********************************

“Remember to stir really good,” Sirius said, watching Teddy circle the wooden spoon around the bowl. “Scrape down the sides and all across the bottom.” 

“Like this?” Teddy asked, and Sirius nodded.

“Perfect!” he said, ruffling Teddy’s hair. “You’re an excellent baker.” 

“Thank you! I made Maman’s birthday cake this year,” Teddy told him.

“I remember,” Sirius said. “You showed me a drawing of it in your recipe binder. It was beautiful.”

“I want to make Daddy’s birthday cake, too,” Teddy said. “Will you help me with it?” 

“When’s your daddy’s birthday?” Sirius asked. 

“March 10,” Teddy replied. 

“Oh,” Sirius said, and the buoyant, carefree feeling in his chest that had been there all day—all week—deflated a little. 

A lot. 

“I’ll be home in London by then,” Sirius said quietly, his voice shaking a little.

“But I thought—” Teddy started, his face crumpling, until he was interrupted by another voice behind them.

“Hi,” Remus said, and Sirius and Teddy turned around. 

“Daddy!” Sirius and Teddy both cried in happy unison. Remus laughed at Sirius’s teasing, but still, his expression was strange. He looked slightly dazed and something else, too. Something Sirius couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked, placing a gentle hand on Remus’s shoulder. 

Remus looked up at Sirius and nodded. 

“Yeah,” he whispered with a small smile. “Fine.”  

Sirius leaned down to kiss him, but Remus pulled away, shook his head slightly, and nodded to Teddy, who was watching them. 

“Will you help me with something in the other room, please?” Remus said instead, then dragged Sirius into the front entryway, where he walked him backwards against the wall, with his hands cupped around Sirius's face, and kissed him breathless.

“So,” Fleur asked later that night at dinner as she passed a tureen of tomato soup to Tonks across the table. “Have you two finalized the Christmas party menu?” 

“Yep,” Remus said. “It's everything I’ve always wanted to make…and then some.” 

He looked at Sirius with a chagrined laugh.

“I convinced Remus to make a flaming figgy pudding,” Sirius said. “It’ll bring down the house.” 

“If it doesn’t burn down the house first,” Remus said. 

“I told you,” Sirius said, breaking off a piece of crusty sourdough and dunking it in his soup. “Alfie already bought three extra fire extinguishers. He says he’s ready to foil my sinister plans to torch the inn to the ground and declare a fiery victory.” 

“Victory over what?” Tonks asked. 

“I have no idea,” Sirius said. “But the point is, he’s prepared, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

“I guess,” Remus sighed.

“Remus is just scared because he flambéed a bloke’s tie once,” Tonks said, and Sirius gaped at him.

“No!” Sirius breathed, and Remus buried his face in his hands with a muffled moan.

“Yes!” he said into his fingers.

“Bananas foster," Tonks laughed. "Tableside. Remus poured in the rum, lit it on fire, and the fucking idiot—” 

“Mummy!” Teddy scolded. 

“Sorry, Teds! The fucking silly man stood up, leaned over, and practically stuck his whole head in the pan. He’s lucky he didn’t lose his eyebrows,” Tonks said.

“Or that terrible toupee he had on,” Fleur scoffed. “Polyester hair, pfft. Just be bald! The coward!”

“Did you get in trouble?” Sirius asked, and Fleur made another disgusted noise in her throat.

“Why should our Remus get in trouble?” she asked, arching an imperious eyebrow at Sirius. “He was not the fool who put his face into fire.” 

“Sorry, right!” Sirius said to Fleur, blanching a little at her cold stare, then leaned toward Remus and whispered, “But did you?” 

“No,” Remus said, shaking his head and shivering a little as he remembered. “The sound of screaming while flames licked up his tie was punishment enough. Luckily, Tonks ran over with a pitcher of water and tossed it on him before the fire reached his collar.” 

“We saved his ugly shirt. But Remus never flambéed again,” Tonks said, shaking her head solemnly. 

“I’ll do the flambéeing,” Sirius assured him. “And we’ll have a whole fleet of people standing by with fire extinguishers."

"I think it'll be great," Tonks said. "What about the rest? Decor? Music?"

"Still working on it," Sirius told her. "But I do know that Alfie wants to play the hurdy-gurdy."

“He what?” Remus asked.

"He’s learning the 12 Days of Christmas, apparently.”

But before Remus could ask another question, Teddy cut in. 

“Can Harry come to the Christmas party, too?” Teddy asked Sirius. “He always comes to your parties on TV!” 

“Teddy, Harry lives in London,” Remus reminded him gently.

But Sirius was already just as excited as Teddy at the thought of the Potters joining them. 

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Sirius said. “I’ve been sending James and Lily pictures and they can’t believe how beautiful this place is. I’m sure they’d love to come. I don’t know if I can find them anywhere to stay this close to Christmas, though.” 

“They can stay here,” Tonks said.

“I thought you were fully booked,” Sirius replied.

“We are. Technically,” she shrugged. “But we have a few cottages we’re renovating to open in the spring. One of them is very close to being done. It just needs aesthetic stuff, like wallpaper and paint and crown molding. If they don’t mind that it’s a little unfinished, they’re welcome to stay. No charge, of course.” 

“That’s amazing! Really? Are you sure?” Sirius asked, then looked at Fleur, knowing he’d need her final approval. 

“If my wife says so, then oui. Of course,” Fleur replied.

“Hooray!” Teddy said. 

A few hours later, after Teddy had gone to bed, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius pulled on warm coats, hats, gloves, and backpacks, then trudged out into the snow up toward the inn to collect guests for the Geminid hike. 

“I can’t believe you finally got Remus to join in, Sirius,” Tonks said. “I’ve only been trying for four years. You must offer him something I can’t.” 

Remus shook his head and laughed, his cheeks turning that sweet, adorable shade of dusty pink that Sirius was starting to love so much. 

“I think it’s my eggs florentine,” Sirius said, grabbing Remus’s gloved hand.

“That must be it,” Tonks agreed as they approached the inn, where the other hikers were already waiting for them. In addition to Ellie and Nat, there was also Sunny and Sven and two young men from Ireland named Brendan and Michael. 

It happened in a flash. Brendan and Michael made eye contact with Sirius, and immediately, Sirius watched the recognition wash across their shocked faces. Sirius released Remus’s hand instinctively, dropping it fast, as though it was on fire. But it was too late. Brendan had noticed that, too. Shit. Shit. 

Sirius swallowed hard as Brendan looked down at the place where Sirius and Remus had been holding hands, then back up at Sirius, as though in slow motion. Sirius braced for something—a camera phone shoved in his face, a muttered slur—and his gut roiled and churned with guilt. God, what would happen if poor Remus got dragged into Sirius’s mess of hounding celebrity, ruining the perfect, idyllic life that he’d worked so hard to build? 

Sirius held his breath, waiting for the fallout, his teeth clenched, his heart hammering against his ribs. But then, Brendan looked up at Sirius with an earnest, almost sad, expression, leaned forward, and raised his hand to his mouth as though he was about to tell Sirius a secret.

“You can be yourself around us,” Brendan whispered in a heavy Irish brogue. “We won’t tell a soul.” 

Sirius inhaled sharply and felt Remus’s hand come to rest on his lower back with a solid, grounding weight, and Michael nodded, too, looking up at Sirius with the same expression of soft, kind openness.

“We promise,” Michael whispered, too. “We know what it’s like. That’s why we came here.” 

Then Michael took Brendan’s hand, gave Sirius a small, shy smile, and turned away. 

Sirius stared at their backs, his mouth hanging open a little, then felt Remus’s hand slide around his waist and pull him closer. Sirius shut his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, as Remus leaned his head against his shoulder, his soft curls brushing against Sirius's cheek. 

“Welcome, everyone!” Tonks said. “Thanks for braving the dark and cold. I promise it’ll be worth it! I’m Tonks, I’m one of the owners, and I’ll be leading you on my very favorite trek to see the annual Geminid meteor shower, which is an absolutely spectacular sight, especially this far north. We’ll be hiking to the top of that hill over there. Not very far, as you can see. But it’s extremely dark, especially once we get onto the trail, so I need each of you to wear a headlamp and keep it on anytime you’re moving. Even if it’s just to duck away to have a wee in the woods. We don’t want any turned ankles, and no one’s looking at your hoo-ha anyhow.” 

“What is a hoo-ha?” Sirius heard Sunny whisper to Sven, who shrugged as Tonks continued talking. 

“I have a headlamp for each of you,” Tonks said. 

“We’ve got our own!” Ellie said, pointing up to a headlamp which was, indeed, already affixed to her head. “Brought ‘em from home. This hike is why we’re here.”

“And I see you have your trusty walking sticks, too,” Tonks nodded at them. “Very clever of you.” 

“Always prepared,” Natalie nodded, thumping her own walking stick on the ground. 

“Now, the Geminid meteor shower is unusual because it originates from an asteroid, not a comet,” Tonks explained as she handed out headlamps from her knapsack. “And although the best viewing time is around 2 o’clock in the morning, we’ll still be able to see a lot from our vantage point atop the hill. Of course, you’re welcome to come back outside later if you want to see them at their peak, but I will not be joining you. I’ll be fast asleep next to my beautiful wife.” 

Everyone laughed and Tonks led them down the hill. But Sirius hung back, pulling Remus by the hand to stop him, too.  

“What is it?” Remus asked, looking up at him with wide, sweet eyes, and for once in his life, Sirius was rendered speechless. Remus was so beautiful, his sweet, freckled face illuminated by the inn's front porch light. His curls stuck out messily from underneath his hat, just like Teddy's did, and his headlamp looked so cute and silly wrapped around his head. Sirius's whole body felt flooded with adrenaline and happiness and joy and freedom as they looked at each other, and more, so much more, things that he couldn’t name, things that were crazy given, well… everything.

“I…” Sirius started, then swallowed hard and shook his head, stopping himself before he said something truly insane. “Just… thank you.” 

“For what?” Remus asked. 

“For you. For this place. For everything.” 

Remus’s face broke into a radiant smile, and he leaned up and kissed him, right there in front of everyone, their cold noses pressed together, and Sirius didn't flinch or pull away. Remus’s eyes raked across Sirius’s face when they finally broke apart, and he sighed, a soft, content little sound. 

“You look very pretty in the starlight, you know,” Remus said, and Sirius kissed him again, feeling as though he could have floated away, right into the Geminids themselves. 

“So do you,” Sirius whispered against his lips. Then Remus took his hand and led them down the hill to catch up with the rest of the group. 

“Headlamps turned on, everyone!” Tonks called a few minutes later, as they stepped off the gravel road and into the black woods. Even with their lights, the woods were oppressively dark, and they could only see a few feet in front of them. 

“Has anyone ever hiked at night before?” Tonks’s voice called from up ahead.

“Yes, many, many times!” Sunny said. “To see the Northern Lights.” 

“We saw them last year!” Ellie said. “In Iceland.” 

“It was magical,” Natalie added. 

“We used to do night hikes with the Scouts, too,” Brendan said. 

“Hated every minute of it,” Michael laughed. 

“This will be much better,” Tonks promised. “It’s not only an easy hike with a magical view, but a celebrity chef made us brownies for when we reach the top.”

“Wow, Remus!” Ellie said. “I didn’t know you were a celebrity!” 

Remus and Sirius looked at each other and laughed silently as they carefully picked over the rocky, snowy ground. 

“Looks like I’m the only one who’s never been on a night hike before,” Remus said. “I guess you can take the boy out of the city…” 

But Sirius shook his head. 

“Nope, I haven’t, either,” Sirius said. “In fact, I’ve never really even been stargazing, unless you count drinking too much gin and passing out on the cricket pitch at Eton.” 

“Really?” Remus laughed, amazed. 

“Sad, isn’t it?” Sirius asked, and Remus nodded, the light from his headlamp bobbing his agreement. 

They hiked on, moving slowly and carefully as the hill got higher and steeper. They all stopped talking, too, keeping their heads down and watching the uneven ground under their feet. Finally, they arrived at a little clearing atop the hill where two wooden sheds stood side by side. 

“One’s an outhouse,” Tonks said, nodding toward the smaller one. “Feel free to use it, if nature calls.” 

Then, she walked toward the other, larger shed. Remus and Sirius followed, and together, they pulled out folding lawn chairs and set them up across the top of the hill. Sirius sneakily placed his and Remus’s chairs further back from the rest. 

“Alright, now that we’re settled,” Tonks said, once Sirius had handed out the brownies and everyone sat down, “turn off your headlamps and look up. It’ll take your eyes a few minutes to adjust, but once they do…” 

“Oh my goodness, I saw one already!” Ellie said, her mouth full of brownie, mere seconds after they’d all turned off their headlamps and had been plunged into darkness. 

“...it’ll be spectacular,” Tonks finished with a laugh.

Sirius clicked off his headlamp, tipped his head upward, and gasped at the magnificent sight before him. Never, in all his life, had he seen so many stars, stretching out in front of him and all around, curving over his head in glittery, jaw-dropping splendor. 

There were so many, it was almost scary, and he felt dizzy with it, feeling the real, true meaning of the word “awesome” the way it was used to describe powerful gods, and exploding volcanoes, and wild, thundering nature, things too vast and fathomless for the human mind to understand. He laughed a little as his eyes found the Milky Way, finally understanding the way it really did look like a river of spilled milk, dripping across the sky. He saw sparkling pictures that came to life before his eyes and the glowing moon, with its dark craters that had called to humans for millennia. 

And then, just when Sirius thought it couldn’t get any more amazing….

“Look!” Sunny cried, pointing over their heads. 

A glowing meteor with a fiery tale zoomed across the sky, then another, and another, endless shooting stars that streaked overhead as though they were being flung to earth by Zeus himself. Sirius felt tears prickling in his eyes, and he reached for Remus’s hand in the dark. They grasped onto each other tightly as they looked up to the heavens, in awe of the wonders of the universe, big and small. 

They watched in silence for a long time, until Remus leaned close, their cold cheeks touching, and pointed upward.

“There you are,” Remus whispered, pointing to a star that shone brighter than the rest, brighter even than the glowing meteors. It glittered and twinkled, as though made of magic, in a way the others didn’t. 

“That’s Sirius,” Remus said. “The brightest star in the sky.” 

Sirius had seen his namesake star before, but never like this. In London, it was blotted out and dulled of its true splendor. But here…

“Have you ever seen yourself without all the bright lights?” Remus asked.

“Never,” Sirius whispered back, and he wasn’t sure anymore whether he was talking about the star or himself. 

“You’re beautiful,” Remus said, turning to look at Sirius in the dark. “Just like this.” 

And then, they were kissing as they’d never kissed before, under the falling stars, and Sirius saw himself clearly, maybe for the first time ever, his real self, bright and vivid, allowed to shine, away from the blinding lights of London, unencumbered, sparkling, and completely, totally free. 

Chapter Text

Sirius had successfully ignored an email from Caradoc with the subject line, "Revised Contract Draft, Time Sensitive," and was just reading through the last few book paragraphs he’d written when his phone buzzed on the desk next to his cup of coffee. 

Just arrived. Meet you in the lobby?

Happiness swelled in Sirius’s chest as he closed the Google doc, snapped the laptop shut, and typed out a quick reply. 

Yes! See you in a sec!

He quickly pulled on his jacket and hat, clipped on Padfoot’s lead, and walked out the door of Rosehip Cottage into the sunny afternoon. A few minutes later, Sirius rounded the corner and laughed. A small figure with glasses and messy black hair was jumping up and down and waving both arms over his head.

“Padfoot!” Harry called from atop the hill, and Padfoot barked happily, pulling on his lead for Sirius to hurry up.

“What about me?” Sirius said, as Harry ran to hug around the dog’s furry neck. 

“Hi, Sirius!” Harry said and hugged his godfather, too. 

“Hiya kiddo,” Sirius said, hugging him back. “Where’s mum and dad?”

“Inside,” Harry said. “They said I could wait out here for you!” 

“Aww, that’s nice of them,” Sirius said, looking up at the inn’s front door with an excited feeling bubbling in his stomach. “Would you mind watching Padfoot for a minute while I go in, too?” 

“OK,” Harry said, taking his lead. 

Sirius had to stop himself from actually skipping up the inn’s gravel walkway, and when he opened the front door, he nearly burst into happy tears at the sight of James, Lily, and Remus all talking and laughing together at the front desk. 

“Hey, stranger!” James said, rushing forward to pull Sirius into a hug. Then James stepped back, gripping onto Sirius’s arms, as though to get a better look at him.

“Damn, Sirius! You look good!” James said, with a pleasantly surprised expression before turning to Lily. “Doesn’t he look good?” 

“He looks great,” Lily agreed, hugging Sirius, too.

“Really great,” James said with a note of amazement in his voice, studying Sirius’s face and looking him up and down. “I think the country air agrees with you, mate.”

“Yeah, it must be the air,” Sirius laughed. He glanced sideways and met Remus’s eye with a small, secret smile that, of course, James noticed immediately. James looked between them for a beat with an amused grin of his own, then turned to Remus.

“Thanks again for letting us stay at such short notice,” James said. “I know Sirius said you didn’t want to charge us, but can’t we—” 

“No, really,” Remus said. “The cottage is very unfinished. We’re just happy to have you here.” 

“We really are, Jamie,” Sirius said, and James raised an eyebrow.

“We?” James whispered while Remus looked away to pull two sets of keys out of a drawer. 

Sirius just gave James a silencing look as Remus handed the keys to Lily, grabbed a pen, and spread a paper map onto the lobby desk.

“We’re here,” Remus said, circling a drawing of a little stone house labeled, “Main Inn.” Then he drew a line across the map while he narrated directions. “You’re going to drive down the hill, past the greenhouses, past Rosehip Cottage. Then you’ll take a left over the stream, and you’ll see three cottages on the right. Yours is number 7. Holly Vine Cottage.” 

Then he poured three glasses of champagne and handed one each to James, Lily, and Sirius.

“I think you need one, too,” Sirius said.

“Just this once,” Remus replied, his cheeks staining that adorable dusty pink under his freckles as he and Sirius looked at each other. Then he poured himself a glass and raised it in the air.

“Cheers,” Remus said. “Welcome. Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having us,” Lily replied.

“And thank you, especially, for having Sirius,” James told Remus, and Sirius closed his eyes in exasperation as they all clinked their glasses and took a sip. 

“Is Harry still outside?” Remus asked, turning to Sirius.

“Yeah, he’s with Padfoot,” Sirius said. 

“I’ll go bring him in. I have some hot chocolate for him. And I made a little something for Padfoot, too,” Remus said, and disappeared outside.

As soon as the door shut behind him, James turned to Sirius with a knowing smirk.

“What an amazing place you’ve brought us to, Sirius!” James gushed. “I wonder what other services he provides!”

Sirius punched him in the arm. 

“Shut it!” Sirius said, attempting to give James a death stare, but failing miserably. He was having too much fun. 

Soon, Remus had returned and Harry was sipping a hot chocolate by the lobby’s fireplace while Padfoot snacked on a homemade peanut butter dog biscuit. 

“Do you always make dog biscuits for the guests?” James asked Remus with a cheeky glance at Sirius. 

“Just the guests that are dogs,” Remus replied, quick as a whip, and James threw his head back and laughed. 

“I can see why you like it here, Sirius,” James said, and Sirius wished he could grab Remus by the hand and yank him into a kiss, right then and there. Instead, their eyes met again and Sirius gave him a wink. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he said. 

A few minutes later, Sirius, Padfoot, James, Lily, and Harry bid Remus goodbye and piled into James’s SUV to drive down to Holly Vine Cottage. They’d barely shut the car doors when Lily immediately swiveled around to look at Sirius, who was sitting in the backseat next to Harry.

“OK, so he’s adorable as hell,” she said, reaching back and slapping him on the leg. “How long has that been going on?”

“Seriously, mate, when you said you were getting to know the innkeeper, I didn’t think you meant biblically,” James chimed in before Sirius could answer. Leave it to James and Lily to read him like a book within minutes. “Not that I blame you. I’d let him pipe my cannoli any day.” 

“Jesus Christ, James!” Sirius said, but he and Lily were undeterred. 

“Tell us everything!” James said, watching Sirius in the rearview mirror as they bumped down the hill. 

“I can’t tell you everything," Sirius said in an undertone, and nodded sideways to Harry. He might seem like he was only innocently petting Padfoot, but Sirius knew he was listening more than any of them realized. He had Teddy to thank for that newfound knowledge. 

“That means there’s everything to tell,” Lily whispered to James, then turned around and slapped Sirius again. 

“Will you stop doing that?” 

“I can’t help it!” Lily squealed.

“You know she gets slappy when she’s excited,” James said. 

Holly Vine Cottage was halfway between Rosehip Cottage and Remus’s house, and much less unfinished than Tonks had described. It was nearly perfect and missing only paint on the doors and wallpaper in the second bedroom where Harry would be sleeping. 

“Can I watch TV?” Harry asked, flopping onto the bed. 

“Great idea,” Lily said, then handed him the remote, shut the bedroom door, and grabbed Sirius by the arm. She steered him over to the couch and pushed him onto it.

“Sit,” she said. “Spill. First, how long?” 

“About two weeks,” Sirius said. 

“Two weeks?!” James cried. “We’ve been asking you if you’re having a good time, and all you’ve been doing is sending us pictures of hills and trees. Meanwhile you’ve been shagging the hot innkeeper for two weeks! How come you didn’t say anything?” 

“Because it’s new, and it’s more than shagging… and…” Sirius said, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, trying to find the right words. 

“And what?” James asked.

“And it just feels… I don’t know…” 

There was a long silence between them until Lily spoke. 

“Different?” she asked quietly.

He finally looked up from his hands and met her green eyes, which were gazing at him with a soft knowing look.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Different.”

“Oh,” James breathed, all the teasing gone. “Oh, mate.”

Sirius told them everything. 

All about the notes in the breakfast baskets, the food, the macarons, the talking, the joking, the flirting, the kissing, the sex—oh, the sex—and how it was all so great, better than anything he’d ever experienced. 

“But it’s so much more than that,” he sighed. And he told them all about doing farm chores together as the sun came up; stolen kisses in the chicken coop; planning menus over coffee; having dinner with Remus’s family; baking with Teddy; conspiring with Alfie; talking to Remus all night; finally, finally sitting down by himself to write; feeling free; being able to breathe; being able to think; hiking and stargazing and dreaming and seeing himself clearly for the first time in his life. 

James and Lily listened without interrupting, even when Sirius’s voice trailed away with a wistful sigh.

“It’s been… I never dreamed that life could feel like this. And I don’t even know what it is,” he finished.

James and Lily looked at each other in that secret-language way of theirs and then back at Sirius with almost pitying expressions.

“It sounds like you do know what it is,” James said softly.

“It’s been two weeks,” Sirius replied, repeating the thing he’d been telling himself. The thing that he’d been trying to tell himself, at least.

“So what? I knew within five minutes that I wanted to marry Lily.” 

“Yeah, and you said it within five minutes, too,” Lily said. “Would not recommend that tactic.” 

“I was right, though, wasn’t I?” James protested, turning to her with wide, plaintive eyes. “Sometimes you just know.” 

They looked at each other, and Lily’s face softened. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, taking his hand. “Sometimes you just know.” 

Sirius spent the rest of the afternoon showing James, Lily, and Harry around the inn’s grounds. 

“Those are the greenhouses,” Sirius said, pointing to the left. “And that’s Alfie inside, he’s the sous chef. His hat’s name is Porkchop and it’s a Sagittarius. Tonks’s gardens are back there. And the orchard. You can’t see it, but there’s a stream, too. There’s the rock that Fleur backed into with the excavator. Those are the hiking trails where we foraged and stargazed. That’s the road into the village. Teddy’s school is down there. That’s Rosehip Cottage, where I’m staying. Tonks says that’s where people stay if they’re feeling antisocial, and she’s damned right about that. That’s Teddy’s friend Charlie, his mum is a housekeeper. Hi, Charlie!” 

“Hi, Sirius!” 

They walked all around, over the stream where Teddy and Peyton tried to get Moony to swim, through the orchards, around the edge of the trails until they looped back toward Remus’s house.

“Woah, what’s that?” Harry said, running forward toward the low stone wall that separated the gravel road from the back garden, then skidding to a stop as he stared up at the slide, zipline, and rope bridge between the two stone cottages. 

“That is Teddy’s house,” Sirius said, pointing upward. “That slide goes from his bedroom to Remus’s living room.” 

“Holy macaroni!” Harry cried. “Lucky!”

As though he’d been summoned, Teddy came tearing out of the house with Moony hot on his heels, galloping behind him as though he were a dog. 

“Hi, Sirius! Hi, Harry!” he yelled, then he too skidded to a stop as he and Harry eyed each other. 

“How do you know my name?” Harry asked. 

“I’ve seen you on the telly,” Teddy said. 

“Oh,” Harry replied, then sat on the stone wall to greet Moony, who was sniffing his leg. “You’re Teddy, right?” 

“Yeah. How do you know my name?” 

“Sirius told me.”

“Oh.” 

“I like your cat. Does he scratch?” 

“Yep.” 

“Does he bite?” 

“Sometimes.”

“I like your slide, too.” 

“Thanks. Do you want to try it?” 

Harry’s head whipped around to his parents.

“Can I?” he asked. 

“Sure,” James said. 

“Fine with me,” Lily agreed. 

“Let’s go!” Teddy said, and they ran off together into the house, with Moony right behind them again.

“That was easy,” James said, then turned to Sirius. “Cute kid. Looks just like Remus.” 

“I know,” Sirius said with a blissful little sigh. “Remus invited you all for dinner tonight, by the way.” 

“Pizza, popcorn, and Sirius Eats night,” said a voice behind them, and they all turned to see Tonks walking down the hill from the orchards. “Hi, I’m Tonks, I’m one of Teddy’s mums. You must be James and Lily. We’re so happy to have you here.” 

She pulled off a thick suede glove.

“Sorry, I’ve been pruning apple trees all day,” she said, wiping her hand on her jeans and sticking it out for James and Lily to shake. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, thank you for hosting us,” Lily said. “Harry and Teddy are already fast friends. They’re inside trying out Teddy’s slide. It’s amazing, by the way.”

“Your whole place is beautiful,” James agreed. 

“Thank you,” Tonks said. “It’s definitely a labor of love. Would you like to come inside? Or do you need to pop back to your cottage first? No rush, either way. Harry’s fine here for a bit, if you’d like to take a breather after that long drive.” 

“I wouldn’t mind having a shower, actually,” Lily said. 

“Go for it, the boys can entertain themselves,” Tonks said with a wave of her hand. “Makes my life easier, actually. Gives Teddy someone to play with.” 

“If you’re sure,” Lily replied. 

“Of course! And, oh! I put some sprigs of dried lavender in your cottage. If you use the ribbon to tie it just underneath the showerhead, it’ll feel like a little spa day in the bathroom.” 

“How lovely!” Lily exclaimed. 

“Go freshen up, and we’ll see you in a bit! Is there anything you three don’t eat or drink, by the way?” 

“Nope,” James said. 

“Alright! See you soon!” Tonks said, and with a wave, she stepped over the stone wall and crossed the garden into the house. 

“I adore her, can she adopt me, please?” Lily said, turning to Sirius, taking both his hands in hers, and looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

“I’ll see if she has any openings for an adult child,” Sirius told her.

“Thank you!” she said.

Then, they heard a voice calling to them from Teddy’s bedroom window.

“Mum! Dad! Watch this!” Harry cried, and a second later, they saw him streaking through the slide, laughing all the way, with Teddy right behind him. 

A couple hours later, they were all standing around the big counter in Remus’s kitchen, with individual pizza doughs in front of each of them, along with shredded cheeses, sauces, and every topping under the sun. Harry was loading up his pizza with so much cheese and pepperoni, that it looked about an inch tall. 

“Remus wants to build a pizza oven next summer,” Tonks said. 

“I know, we’ve been talking about it,” Sirius replied offhandedly as he sprinkled Pete’s goat cheese over the top of his fig and prosciutto pizza, imagining Remus laying bricks under the hot summer sun, then stripping off his t-shirt, sweat dripping down his bare chest, and Sirius arriving just in time with a pitcher of cold lemonade, wearing only an apron, and…

“Have you?” Fleur asked sharply, looking up at Sirius with an arched eyebrow and a slight hint of surprise in her voice that yanked Sirius out of his fantasy. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Just about ideas for materials and the design and stuff.” 

“I see,” Fleur replied, and kept making her spinach and artichoke heart pizza. 

“Anyway,” Tonks said, looking at Fleur pointedly, “it’ll make parties like this a lot easier. We won’t have to use the ovens in both houses.” 

“And it’ll be really nice for al fresco dining,” Remus said. 

“Fairy lights would look good, too!” Sirius said. 

“Yes! Amazing idea!” Remus agreed, and Fleur glanced up at them again but didn’t say anything this time.  

“Ugh, I’d love a pizza oven,” James said. 

“Why?” Lily laughed. “To light the takeaway boxes on fire? We don’t make pizza!” 

“We might! If we had a pizza oven!” James replied. 

“Right,” Lily nodded. “Just like all the ice cream we’ve made now that we have an ice cream maker.” 

“They have a Cuisinart ICE-100 still in the box,” Sirius told Remus. 

“Oh,” Remus said weakly, pressing a hand to his chest and looking between James and Lily. “That hurts my heart.”

“Do you have one?” Lily asked. 

“No,” Remus replied.

“Then it’s yours,” Lily said. “You can have it.” 

“But I’m gonna—” James started to protest, but Lily cut him off. 

“No, you’re not! We’ve had it for three years, and just because you’ve covered the box with a big napkin, doesn't mean I’ve forgotten you still haven’t made ice cream,” Lily said. “Remus can have it. He’ll give it a good home. Like a rescue from the appliance shelter.”  

“I rescued their cappuccino machine last year,” Sirius said. “It’s been very happy with me.” 

After dinner, Sirius had almost forgotten that it was Friday night, until Teddy announced the time, as usual. 

“The big hand is almost on the 12!” he said. 

“We don’t all need to watch it,” Sirius said, then winced at the uproar all around him. Everyone, even Fleur, joined in a chorus of protestations, insisting that they all watch the latest episode of Sirius Eats together. 

“I think you’re outvoted, chef,” Remus whispered in his ear with a sexy little half smile. His eyes were dark and playful, and his curls were falling across his forehead in that messy, ridiculously adorable way, and Sirius felt pain—real, actual, physical pain—at not being able to snog the daylights out of him. 

“Popcorn!” Tonks said as they all piled into chairs and couches around the TV. “I almost forgot.”

“I’ll get it,” Remus said quickly.

“I’ll help,” Sirius added.

“You do that,” Tonks laughed to herself, and they rushed out of the room. 

They walked into the kitchen and shut the door and immediately, Sirius walked Remus backwards against the counter, taking his face in his hands and kissing him the whole way. Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck and melted into him.

“You had fig jam,” Remus breathed between kisses, “on your lip” another kiss “and it was only for a second” another kiss “but it was driving me crazy. I wanted to lick it off.” 

“You were just standing there,” Sirius said, kissing him back, “and you were still driving me crazy.” 

Remus hopped onto the counter and wrapped his legs around the backs of Sirius’s thighs and pulled him closer. 

“The last time you were in this position,” Sirius said, his hands roving across Remus’s back and shoulders,  “things did not end with family popcorn night.” 

“No, they did not,” Remus replied, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the cupboards with a little moan as Sirius bit kisses down his neck.

They kissed for another minute, until they heard Teddy’s voice from the other room.

“Daddy! Sirius! It’s starting!” 

“Ugh…” Sirius laughed, tipping his forehead against Remus’s. “How many more things can that show get in the way of?” 

Remus cupped both Sirius’s cheeks, kissed him, and gave him a long, searching look. 

“Hopefully not much more,” he said, then kissed him once more, slid off the counter, and gathered up the popcorn.

“Scootch over,” Remus said, nudging Teddy’s knee with his own a few minutes later as he and Sirius joined everyone else in the living room and sat down on the couch between Harry and Teddy. The opening credits had already started while they passed out popcorn, and Sirius looked up to see himself on the screen. Normally, he cringed when he saw himself on television, but this time it felt different. The kitchen set was familiar looking, of course, but strange now. Overly bright and white and pristine. The man on screen looked strange somehow, too, with a happy, magnetic smile that didn’t quite hide the bone-deep tiredness that Sirius knew was there, but no one else could see. Sirius knew he was a good chef. But he didn’t realize, until that very moment, that he was a damned good actor, too.

“What was that day like?” Teddy asked, snuggling closer to Remus so casually that neither Teddy nor Remus seemed to even give it a thought. Remus put his arm around his son with the same easy, instinctive intimacy, and Sirius watched them with a longing so acute he could have pinpointed exactly the spot in his chest where it ached the most. 

“That day was kind of weird,” Sirius smiled down at Teddy, who had been peppering him with behind-the-scenes questions ever since he’d discovered that Sirius didn’t actually live at the TV studio. Sirius was pretty sure Teddy still didn’t quite fully grasp that everything he saw on television wasn’t totally real. 

“Yeah, I remember that day,” James said with a laugh. “You were so annoyed about….” 

And he waited for the exact moment when the camera shot switched from Sirius in his kitchen studio to a shot of him going for a run wearing teeny-tiny shorts and a tight workout shirt, neither of which left much to the imagination.

“That!” James finished, pointing at the TV. 

“Oh god, I blocked this part out!” Sirius said, burying his face in his hands while Lily, Tonks, and Fleur laughed and whooped at the TV. 

“As much as I want to skip workouts around the holidays,” the Sirius on TV said as he ran down the street, “I try not to, so I can eat all the extra biscuits I want. Plus, this way, I can make all of my Christmas orders during my run.” 

And the camera followed him as he stopped into the butcher, the cheesemonger, and the bakery in between running segments. 

“They just wanted to get him as naked as possible,” James said, shaking his head at the way the camera lingered across the backs of Sirius’s bare thighs. “And breathing heavily.”

“They tried to talk me into diving for shellfish in Bora Bora on my holiday so they could film an entire segment of me without a shirt on,” Sirius said. “I shot that down real quick.” 

“They still managed to get you on video calls every day though,” James replied, looking sideways at Sirius and not trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“That they did,” Sirius muttered, then felt Remus softly take his hand and tip his head onto Sirius’s shoulder. Within seconds, he felt the tension seep out of his body and his heart rate slow. 

“Oh, but this part was funny, I remember you telling me about this,” James said, pointing to the TV again, where Sirius was now mixing chocolate chips into a bowl. “If you look really closely, the chocolate chips become chocolate chunks in the next shot.” 

And sure enough, a few seconds later, the chips were now chunks. 

“Why?” Teddy cried, gaping at Sirius as though he’d performed a magic trick.

“I had a sneezing fit over the bowl,” Sirius said, and the room exploded with laughter. “I just couldn’t bring myself to bake the sneeze cookies, even for pretend, so we remade the whole batch but had to use chocolate chunks because we’d run out of chips. The director didn’t think anyone would notice.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s some weird, obsessive subreddit exploding with analysis and conspiracy theories as we speak,” Lily sighed. 

“The chip-chunk discrepancy! What does it mean?” James added in mock amazement.

“I wouldn’t know,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. He’d never been on social media and never planned to be. 

A few minutes later, it was Sirius’s turn to point to the telly. 

“You’ll like this part, Teddy,” Sirius said, as his television counterpart demonstrated how to plait bread dough. “I’ve been thinking about how you’d be good at something like this.” 

“You have?” Teddy asked, looking up at Sirius with wide eyes.

“Yup, because you’re a very good artist,” Sirius told him. “And plaiting is an artistic way to make bread.” 

“Will you show me how?” Teddy asked. 

“Me too?” Harry chimed in, even though he’d never shown any interest in baking before, and Sirius laughed a little. 

“Any time you want,” Sirius told them.

“Any time in the next few days, you mean,” Fleur corrected. She didn’t say it coldly or cruelly, but matter-of-factly. Still, Sirius felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Right,” he agreed, and Remus squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

When Remus finally arrived at Rosehip Cottage much later that night, he and Sirius fell into a kiss that felt different somehow, as though they were racing against a clock that was ticking louder and louder, although neither of them said as much. 

Instead, every touch felt imbued with a kind of desperate, hurried, longing, like they were trying to get as much of each other as they could in the short time they had left. Sirius knew they both felt it, knew in his bones, and yet they seemed afraid to talk about it, as though speaking the expiration date aloud would make it real, as though with every kiss, they could push it further and further away, like the shadow of a bad dream fading with the morning sunlight. 

So, instead, there in Sirius’s bed, with Remus pressed into him, thrusting deep and slow, with their fingers laced tightly over Sirius’s head, and them moving together like they were the only two people on earth, time finally disappeared. It wasn’t real, nothing was real outside of this room, this bed, their bodies, one deep inside the other. There was only this. And each other. And this moment, right now. 

********************************

The morning of the inn’s Victorian Christmas party dawned bright and cold, with snow flurries floating through the crisp air and catching the sun’s first rays like tiny, weightless diamonds. Remus woke up in Sirius’s arms and couldn’t help slipping under the sheets to wake him up, too, kissing down his sleeping body and feeling it start to slowly stir under his lips. By the time Remus reached his inner thighs, Sirius was softly moaning awake and his cock was lengthening against his stomach. 

“Morning,” Remus whispered, before swirling his tongue around the head, swallowing a bead of precome, and taking the entire thing slowly into his mouth, where it fattened and hardened against his lips. He wanted to feel Sirius everywhere, feel him as deeply as he could. He closed his eyes and opened his throat and took him deeper as he felt Sirius’s fingers slide sleepily into his hair and massage his scalp. 

Remus lost himself in the weightless, cottony feeling of it all, under the sheets, his mouth full. He wrapped his hand around the slippery shaft, stroking the rest of what he couldn’t fit, wanting Sirius to feel good everywhere. He slipped a finger into his mouth alongside Sirius’s cock, then another, wetting them, getting them dripping, before sliding them down to circle around Sirius’s hole, which was still slightly stretched from only hours before. He pressed two fingers inside, and Sirius moaned and arched his back, tensing his thighs as Remus gently stroked and sucked. 

Come on, love, let go, finally let go, Remus thought without thought, the words spinning in his sleepy, blissed-out mind. He wanted Sirius to come down his throat, to drink it down, to taste Sirius’s pleasure, to taste his release, not only now, but always, of everything, everything holding him back. He wanted him to feel happy and free and…

They moaned together as Remus’s mouth filled with wet warmth, and he sucked harder, swallowing and licking while Sirius gasped and shuddered below him. He was barely aware of anything besides the throbbing cock in his mouth and Sirius’s broken voice above him saying, “Remus, Remus, fuck me, please.” 

And Remus was helpless but to obey. He crawled up Sirius’s body, pulling out his fingers and replacing it with his cock. Sirius was tight now, so tight, but his legs slid open hungrily as Remus’s thick cock disappeared inside him. He pulled Remus into a messy kiss, his hands scrabbling, his tongue searching for his own taste in Remus’s mouth, and within seconds, Remus was coming too, pumping Sirius full. They kissed and kissed, drunk with sleep and each other, and Remus closed his eyes against the bright sunrise, every new sunrise counting closer and closer to…

No, don’t think about that now. Not when Sirius’s bed is warm and his arms are strong and his kisses make you forget about everything anyway. 

The day passed in a flurry of excitement and preparation. Remus still marveled at the way the party had come together so easily and quickly, and he knew he had Sirius to thank for it. The man was not only a genius in the kitchen, but was accustomed to the efficiency and scale of TV production. He’d even been a celebrity chef for countless high-profile events, baking for hundreds at BAFTA after-parties and royal charity galas. This little Christmas party at the inn was probably barely more complicated than a typical Tuesday for him.

Now, the inn was decorated beautifully from top to bottom, with fairy lights and evergreen boughs and red and gold baubles, and Remus, Sirius, Tonks, and Alfie were busy putting the finishing touches on the food before their friends and guests arrived. The entire menu was exactly what Remus had always imagined, with succulent roast goose, herbed chestnut stuffing, rich oyster soup, warm, spiced gingerbread, authentic mulled wine, Twelfth Night cake, and of course, Sirius’s flaming figgy pudding. They’d even hired extra waitstaff so all of their regular staff could come to the party instead of working (or at least have the night off if they’d rather stay home), and Remus couldn’t wait to celebrate with everyone.

“I’m gonna start calling you Fezziwig,” Tonks laughed, giving Remus a kiss on the cheek as they looked around the kitchen at their handiwork. “It’s going to be a hell of a party.” 

They all left the kitchen in the hands of the waitstaff so they could go home and get dressed. 

“Is Isla coming?” Sirius asked Alfie as they stepped outside into the cold evening sunset. 

“Yep,” Alfie said. “She hasn’t puked since Tuesday. It’s a Christmas miracle.” 

An hour later, Remus, Tonks, Fleur, and Teddy were making their way back up the hill to the inn, dressed to the nines. Tonks and Fleur were each wearing floor-length gowns in different shades of pink, while Teddy and Remus sported matching tuxedos. Teddy even wore a clip-on bowtie that he was clearly very proud of, walking with his chin in the air between his mums. 

“I’ve never looked this fancy!” he’d said when he spotted his reflection in the mirror, and Remus had to agree. 

When they rounded the corner to Rosehip Cottage, though, Remus nearly fainted. Sirius Goddamn Black was waiting for him on the porch, fixing his cufflinks and looking like he’d just stepped out of a James Bond film. He looked up at Remus and gave him a slow, lethally handsome smile, and Remus had to grab Tonks’s hand for support. Sometimes Remus forgot that Sirius was Sirius Black, but this wasn’t one of those times.

“Holy shit,” Remus breathed.

“I know,” Tonks whispered back. “That’s the bloke you’re shagging, by the way.” 

“Yeah, fuck, oh my god,” Remus said under his breath, his mouth going dry as Sirius loped toward them with a casual elegance, one hand slung in his trouser pocket, the other reaching forward to take Remus’s and bring it to his lips for a kiss. 

“Hello, handsome,” Sirius said, not taking his eyes off of Remus. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Remus’s heart was lodged in his throat as they looked at each other. 

“Thanks for being my date,” Remus choked out. 

“Any time, any place,” Sirius said, then turned to Tonks and Fleur with hugs and kisses, telling them how beautiful they looked, before squatting down in front of Teddy. He carefully straightened Teddy’s bowtie and gave him a heart-melting smile.

“Don’t you look dapper,” he said. 

“Thank you!” Teddy said. “So do you!” 

And Teddy reached out to straighten Sirius’s bowtie, too. 

The evening passed in a glittery, happy whirlwind of food and music and laughter. Everyone looked beautiful, from Lily in a gold cocktail dress, to Ellie and Natalie in matching suits, to Harry and James, who had both tried, and failed, to tame their messy black hair with gel. Alfie had even left Porkchop at home, choosing to wear a shiny black satin top hat for the occasion instead.

“Isla, meet Sirius Black,” Alfie said, leading the lovely, dark-haired woman on his arm up to Sirius, who was sipping a glass of mulled wine and chatting to Pete about the fat content in cheese with Remus. “Sirius Black, this is Isla, the love of my life. She, as you can see, is beautiful, radiant, carrying our child, and very much unavailable. For either dating or mind control.” 

“Alfie!” Isla said, rolling her eyes and turning a deep shade of crimson that nearly matched the cranberry color of her pretty chiffon dress, which she wore with black combat boots and a black satin top hat of her own. “Hello, Mr. Black, it’s lovely to meet you. Alfie’s been telling me all about you and your villainous plans.”

“Yes, well, they’re hardly a secret at this point, are they?” Sirius replied, shaking Isla’s hand as Remus swallowed down a laugh. 

“And I do like your haircut,” Isla said, looking Sirius over appraisingly. “It looks even better in person. I hope to never see your long hair on television again.” 

“Thank you,” Sirius said, then nodded down to the pretty pendant around her neck, an emerald-studded letter A. “Your necklace is lovely. Is the A for Alfie?”

“No,” she said. “It’s for anarchy.” 

“How festive,” Sirius replied. 

“I thought so!” Isla agreed brightly. 

Meanwhile, Pete and Alfie had been sucked into the same, strange debate that they had every time they saw each other. 

“Ravens are smarter than crows!” Pete said, rubbing his eyes wearily. “I don’t know why you can’t accept the data!” 

“Because I have firsthand experience with crows that tells me otherwise!” Alfie shot back.

“Anecdotal evidence does not negate quantitative research, Alfie, how many times do I have to tell you that?” 

“And who’s funding the research, Pete? That’s right! The government! You, of all people, should know that!” 

But before Pete could rebut this point, Fleur hurried over to Alfie.

“You’re on,” she whispered in his ear, and Alfie rushed away with a tip of his top hat to Pete, Remus, Sirius, and Isla.

“Wait, you weren't serious about the hurdy-gurdy thing, were you?” Remus hissed in Sirius’s ear. 

But before Sirius could answer, an odd, strangled sound came from the front of the room. Alfie had a strange wooden box strapped across his front. It had a metal crank on one end and buttons on the other, and Alfie was apparently still learning about all of it.

“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me… me… me… oh, bugger, wrong note!" 

“This… is a very long song,” Remus whispered to Sirius, unable to tear his eyes off of Alfie as he tapped his foot and searched for the right note. 

“Yes it is,” Sirius nodded back, while Harry, Teddy, Tonks, and Fleur danced along next to them to the strange music. 

“Great party,” James said, joining them later with Lily. “I even kinda liked the weird box thing, once Alfie found the right buttons.” 

“It only took until the eleventh day of Christmas,” Remus agreed. 

“Hey, how are you with a fire extinguisher?” Sirius asked James. 

“Considering I helped you out of the Great Bong Disaster of 2009, I’d say pretty good,” James replied. 

“Fancy standing by with one? We’re gonna flambe in a sec.” 

“Is that a metaphor?” Lily asked. 

“Remus has a flaming pudding phobia,” Sirius explained. “We’re being proactive.” 

And before Remus could say “don’t play with matches,” he and Sirius were wheeling out an enormous, brandy-soaked pudding, while flanked on either side by Alfie, James, Pete, Tonks, and Fleur, each holding a bright red fire extinguisher and pointing the hoses in their direction.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight,” Remus said, looking around the crowd of their guests, employees, and closest friends. “This place is so special to all of us, and the reason for that is everyone in this room. Thank you all for being here and for being such an important part of our lives. We’re so grateful to each and every one of you, especially at the holidays. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go stand at the back of the room and cover my eyes until the fire is out.” 

“Oh, no you’re not!” Sirius laughed, grabbing Remus by the hand and pulling him back. Remus winced as Sirius raised a lit match to a ladle full of brandy and poured it atop the pudding. It whooshed aflame, and the crowd erupted, clapping and cheering at the spectacular sight. 

“What did I tell you?” Sirius whispered, squeezing Remus’s hand as they watched the dancing fire. “It’ll bring down the house.” 

“You just bring magic wherever you go, don’t you?” Remus asked, looking up at Sirius’s beautiful face, illuminated by the fire and fairy lights and his own, radiant beauty. “Just made of stardust, you are.” 

Sirius leaned down and kissed him, and the crowd cheered even louder, and Remus had never felt happier in his life. 

The party was a dream, better than anything Remus had ever imagined. 

But they weren’t the only ones who’d spent the evening at a party. Three hundred miles away, in a small, dreary suburb north of London, a young woman was feeling a little woozy after a few too many champagne cocktails at her husband’s office Christmas party. She was feeling more than a little annoyed, too. She’d caught her husband chatting to a pretty redhead while she was in the loo and looking a little too friendly about it. 

Now, she’d banished the arsehole to the couch, and was flipping through her camera roll alone in bed, searching for a picture she knew was there. She found it and groaned at the sight of herself. She looked awful in that picture, with her windblown hair and half-shut eyes. But he didn’t. He looked hot as hell, even hotter than he did on TV. So she posted the picture, with a few choice hashtags, including a couple that she knew would piss off her husband.

#HallPass 

#SiriusBlack

#SilverMoonB&B 

Chapter Text

New Year’s Day, 2:00 am, 10 years earlier

Pain radiated from the bottoms of Remus’s feet up through every joint, muscle, and bone in his hips and legs as he trudged up the stairs in the near darkness to their fourth-floor walkup. 

“We really need to move to a building with an elevator,” he said to Tonks for the millionth time. Not that any of them had the time or energy to look for a new flat. He didn’t even really have the right to complain about having a clean, safe place to live after all the shitholes he’d called home over the years, either. 

“Yeah, let’s move in the morning,” Tonks yawned, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the hallway wall while Remus fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

He opened the door quietly, but didn’t need to. Fleur was still awake and waiting up for them, curled up on the couch with a book and a glass of wine and wearing a fluffy pink dressing gown. 

“Happy New Year,” she said, sitting up sleepily and putting her glass and book onto the coffee table in front of her. 

“Yeah, real happy,” Tonks said, collapsing, spread eagle, on the floor, where Remus promptly joined her. They both toed off their heavy work shoes, kicked them across the room, and closed their eyes.

“Bad night?” Fleur asked, coming to lay down on the floor too.

“Let’s see,” Remus said, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Someone accidentally double booked table 7 all evening, so we had a constant wait out the door and all the rich pricks demanded free drinks for their trouble. Melissa called in sick. One table kept sending their food back and yelling at their server about how much they hated parsley, even though we didn’t put any parsley on their plates. Someone puked in their bouillabaisse after drinking too many martinis. And then, we ran out of toilet paper at 12:15, and I had to send a busboy to the all-night pharmacy. Twice.”

“Why are rich people the rudest, most disgusting, entitled jerks on earth?” Tonks asked. 

“Because they can be,” Fleur said, reaching up to push Tonks’s hair off her face and kiss her forehead. “At least you can sleep a little today.”

“Nope,” Tonks said. “They want us back at 9 for brunch service.” 

“But you were supposed to have the day off!” 

“Well, Remus left out the best part of the night,” Tonks said, and Remus groaned. How could he have forgotten? “Flo quit, so we’re down another sous chef. Everyone hates the new owner.” 

“And how is that your problem?” Fleur demanded. 

“It’ll become our problem if we get sacked for saying no,” Tonks said. 

“Ugh, I’m so sick of that place,” Fleur replied. 

“I’m so fucking sick of everything,” Remus said, and even he was surprised at how bitter the words sounded. 

He usually did his best to “practice gratitude” and feel proud of himself for overcoming the shit-pile of life that came with dropping out of school, losing his mum, and his years of “scrapping,” to use Tonks’s cutesy word, although it would be more accurate to call it kicking the shit out of people. He knew he was lucky just to have a job and a place to live with good friends. But sometimes, finding gratitude was harder than others, and this was one of those times. 

“What do you mean?” Tonks asked quietly, as she and Fleur rolled over to look at him.

“I’m just… I’m fucking sick as hell of everyone else having a say over what happens in my life instead of me. No matter how hard I try, there’s always something or someone standing in the way of what I really want,” Remus said, staring up at the ceiling, feeling exhaustion and frustration throb in every cell in his body. His eyes burned with tiredness and smoke from cig breaks in the alley and a gnawing, grating sadness that was always there, but he could usually push away. 

“Like what?” Fleur asked.

“Like I wanted to be a dad, right? So I finally tell Chris. Two years in, feels safe. Maybe he feels the same way. Turns out, no, fuck you, we’re breaking up instead. He gets to decide my life. Or I want to be a chef. I want to make nice food for nice people. Simple, right? But no. Instead, I have a boss that schedules us without a break in a place where we’re surrounded by rude, entitled arseholes who stick their fucking face in a pan full of flames and then have the audacity to send the meal back. I want to live in a flat where the hot water always works and there’s not a trick to getting the bathroom light to turn on. I want to sleep when I’m fucking tired and eat when I’m hungry. I want to look outside at night and see stars, not pigeons and telephone wires and a piss-stained brick wall. I’m sick of my life happening to me, instead of having any say in any of it.” 

Remus sighed heavily and threw his arms over his eyes. His shirt stunk like fry oil and onions and dried choux paste and soured creme pat, and he felt his face flush with his humiliating honesty. He wanted to sink into the floor. God, fuck, he hated feeling sorry for himself. He was just about to apologize for his rant when Tonks spoke. 

“Then let’s change things,” she said. 

“Yeah, OK,” Remus scoffed.

“I’m serious. It’s time for us to take charge of things.” 

“Like what?” 

“Everything we want. Let’s try to get it.” 

“With all the extra money and time we have, you mean?” 

“Tonks is right,” Fleur said. “If you’re unhappy you should make a change. And we’re all kind of unhappy.” 

Remus sighed again. He just wanted to get out of these disgusting clothes and go to bed. But Tonks was suddenly possessed. She jumped up, ran across the room, and grabbed a pen and paper from the kitchen drawer. Then she sat back down on the floor with her legs crossed and started writing across the top of the notepad. 

“New Year, New Life: Goals,” she read out loud as she wrote, then looked up at the other two. “We’re in charge of our lives. We decide what we want. It’s time to stop talking about it and start doing it. So let’s make a list. What do we want? And after we decide that, we’re going to make a plan to get it.” 

The sky was a cold, blank gray when Remus left the house to head to the inn. Tonks and Fleur had convinced him not to do a full Sunday brunch the morning after the Christmas party, but Remus still wanted to offer a little breakfast for guests, so he settled on a simple Continental buffet of fruit and pastries instead. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Sirius said, meeting Remus in front of Rosehip Cottage as usual and pulling him into a sleepy kiss. 

“Good morning,” Remus replied, smiling into it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be up this early after the party last night.” 

“And miss getting to spend a quiet morning with you before…” 

His voice trailed away, but they both knew the unspoken thing anyhow. Before I leave on Wednesday.

Neither of them said it out loud, though. Instead, they sank into another kiss, took each other’s hand, and started the morning chores. They gathered eggs, had coffee, and laughed and kissed and chatted while they prepared breakfast, enjoying the empty kitchen since Alfie had the day off. 

But when Remus sat down in his office to open his email, he got a jolt of shock.

“Holy shit,” he said, his eyes scanning the page as he scrolled… and scrolled… and scrolled. It was never ending.

“What is it?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“We have 572 new emails and reservation requests,” Remus said. 

“How many do you usually have?” 

“One! Maybe two. We have online booking and people only email when they have questions.” 

Remus looked up as Sirius appeared in the office doorway. He was wearing a black apron and still holding the knife he’d been using to slice strawberries. 

“What do you think is going on?” Sirius asked, crossing the office to stand over Remus’s shoulder as he opened the first email and read it out loud. 

“Hello, I’d like to inquire about booking a room for Valentine’s Day but your online booking system wasn’t working. My wife is… oh my god.” 

“What is it?” Sirius asked, leaning over to look at the laptop screen, and he, too, gasped. 

“My wife is a big fan of Sirius Black,” Remus finished.

“What the hell…” Sirius breathed as Remus kept opening emails. They all sounded the same. 

“I would like to come visit in March. I know Sirius Black has good taste so the place must be great.” 

“I tried to make a reservation, but the website kept crashing. Can you help?” 

“Does Sirius Black live in the area? I’d love to visit his favorite places….” 

Sirius put the knife onto Remus’s desk with shaking hands and turned his mobile phone on. He dialed it without saying a word until Remus heard a man’s voice from the other end of the line. 

“Good morning, how’s the weather up north? The inn looks beautiful.” 

“What the hell’s going on, Caradoc?” Sirius asked, striding out of the office and back into the kitchen. Remus sat frozen at his desk, his heart slamming against his chest, trying to mentally process the hundreds of emails in front of him and the fact that somehow, everyone suddenly seemed to know that Sirius Black was staying at Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast. 

“No, I didn’t sleep with her! How can you even ask that?” Sirius cried from the kitchen.

Sirius’s voice pulled Remus out of his shock. He slowly stood up and walked to his office doorway.

Sirius was pacing back and forth between the metal counter and the stove, staring at his feet as he talked on the phone. Remus only heard half the conversation, but it didn’t matter. His stomach was still in knots.

“Funny, I don’t see you rushing to put out a statement this time,” Sirius said. “To correct the implication… Because I don’t want people to think that!... Well, you need to do something… Because I care about this place and the people here… It is none of your business who I’m shagging and it never has been… I don’t know, talk to Lovegood! Isn’t that what I pay you for?... You have got to be fucking kidding me, Caradoc, you’re not really asking me about the contract right now, are you?... No… No! You know what? I have to go… Yeah… Thanks for nothing.” 

He hung up the phone and slammed it onto the counter, then took a couple of deep breaths with his eyes closed before looking up at Remus.

“Remember those women that I took a selfie with a couple weeks ago? In front of the inn before the foraging hike?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded.

“Apparently one of them posted the picture on TikTok,” Sirius said dully, his voice shaking a little. “With the caption, ‘POV: When your husband flirts with someone else, you shoot your shot with your hall pass.’ And she put the name of the inn, too.” 

Sirius hung his head with an exhausted sigh, and Remus felt a hurricane of emotions rage through his body. How many times and in how many ways would Sirius be used and objectified for other people’s purposes? And the fact that this woman was a guest here at the inn? That Remus, however indirectly, had been yet another conduit for Sirius being treated that way? Wasn’t Sirius safe anywhere?

“I’m so, so sorry,” Remus said, crossing the room toward Sirius, who quickly looked up at him and backed away like a wounded animal. 

“For what?” Sirius asked. 

“For this happening to you.”

Sirius shook his head, confused, as though he wasn’t quite understanding what Remus was saying. 

“What?”

“I wanted you to feel safe here.” 

They looked at each other in silence for a moment until Sirius shook his head. 

“Remus… this happens to me all the time. That’s not what I’m upset about.” 

“What are you upset about?”

Again, Sirius looked at Remus with a confused frown, as though he was trying to understand someone speaking a different language.

“You. And what this is going to do to you. This is a violation of your privacy,” Sirius said. 

“No, it’s a violation of yours.” 

“I don’t have privacy, Remus!” Sirius said. “But you do. And now it’s gone.” 

“It doesn’t seem that bad,” Remus said. “So we’ll have a waitlist for reservations for a while. So what? There are worse problems to have.” 

“You don’t understand,” Sirius replied with a hollow laugh. “This is only the beginning. When people find out I’m here…” 

“Then we’ll deal with it.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to deal with it.” 

“Neither should you!” 

“It’s too late for me. This is my life. I signed up for this. But you… and Teddy… and…”

His voice was shaking, on the verge of angry tears.

“Sirius—” 

“And James is here, too. Fuck,” Sirius hissed to himself, putting his face in his hands. 

“Hey, hey,” Remus said, rushing up to him and pulling him into a hug. Sirius’s body was tense, but he softened a little when Remus put his arms around him and held him close, slowly rubbing a hand up and down his back. “We have no idea what’s going to happen next.” 

But Sirius raised his head from Remus’s shoulder and gave him a sad smile.

“No, baby,” he said. “You have no idea what’s going to happen next.” 

Remus tried to talk Sirius into taking a break, maybe going to talk to James, but Sirius insisted on helping him finish the breakfast prep first.

“If I’m going to ruin this place, I might as well pull my weight in the meantime,” he said with a bitter laugh. 

Remus didn’t know what to say. All Sirius had done was make Remus’s life better, happier. More complete. And he’d done so instantly, just by being himself.

Remus took the tray of cherry danishes out of Sirius’s hands, put it onto the counter, and kissed him, wishing that he could build an impenetrable bubble between Sirius and the rest of the world. 

“It would be impossible for you to ruin anything,” Remus whispered, taking Sirius’s face in his hands and kissing him again. But Sirius didn’t reply. He only nodded, picked up the tray of danishes again, and brought it into the breakfast room. 

An hour later, Remus handed the buffet duties off to the waitstaff and left the inn with Sirius. They walked side by side, not talking, not holding hands, and Remus felt the heavy weight of worry emanating from Sirius’s body as though it were a physical object. He felt it all around them, too, a sense of dread that seemed to be hanging in the air itself. It was still early on a Sunday morning, but rather than feeling peaceful, the quiet stillness and emptiness was eerie, like the calm before a storm. 

They arrived at Rosehip Cottage and paused at the gate. Sirius looked down at his hands, then at the cottage. 

“I need to make some calls,” Sirius said, his voice flat and quiet.

“I think you should talk to James, too,” Remus said. “Tell him what’s going on.” 

“I should tell him to leave,” Sirius said quietly, still staring at the cottage. 

“No, I meant… I meant that he might be able to help you more than I can. Because he knows you,” Remus said. “I just want you to feel better.” 

Sirius finally looked away from the cottage, turning slowly to Remus with tears in his eyes. He nodded, started to say something, then stopped himself. Instead, he just stared at Remus for a long moment. 

“You know me, too,” he whispered finally. He grabbed Remus’s hand and squeezed it hard. Remus squeezed it back and swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat. 

“See you later?” Remus choked out. Do not cry, do not cry, do not fucking cry. This is not about you. “I’ll just be home. Come by whenever. Or text me or… or anything.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said vaguely. “See you later.” 

He gave Remus’s hand one more squeeze and walked away into the cottage. Remus watched him go, watched him disappear into the cottage without looking back. 

When Remus got home, Tonks and Fleur were waiting for him in his living room, still in their pyjamas. 

“I guess you saw the TikTok,” Remus sighed, tossing his keys onto the coffee table and flopping down onto the couch next to them. 

“Yeah, we did,” Tonks said, putting a comforting arm around Remus’s shoulders. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Remus shrugged. “Sirius, on the other hand.” 

And he told them all about the hundreds of emails, the snippets of conversation that Remus had heard Sirius have with his manager, and Sirius’s terrible worry that something bad was going to happen.

“He kept saying that he signed up for this. Like he deserves to be treated this way. But he doesn’t! No one does. And he seems to hate it all,” Remus said. “I wish… I wish he would just leave it all behind and stay here. With us. Which I know sounds crazy, but…” 

He looked up at Fleur and Tonks, who were holding his hands, and he finally felt brave enough to say the thing he’d been feeling and trying to ignore. 

“I think I love him,” he whispered, and felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“Oh, honey,” Tonks said, brushing the tear away. “I know you do.” 

“Have you talked to him?” Fleur asked. 

“Not about that.” 

“Don’t you think you should?” 

“It’s been two weeks, Fleur. I’ll sound insane.” 

“I don’t think you’re alone in your feelings, Remus,” Fleur said. “He’s been working at the inn with you. He’s had dinner with our family every night. He’s spending time with our son.” 

“He’s also leaving on Wednesday.” 

“He’s always been leaving on Wednesday,” Fleur reminded him. “And you’ve both been ignoring that. But he can come back. I just need you to be brave and say what you feel. Because I can’t watch you have your heart broken by not being honest about things.” 

The thought of telling Sirius how he felt seemed unhinged. How could Remus make such a confession after only two weeks? But the alternative? The alternative was even worse.

“I’ll talk to him,” Remus said. “He needs some time right now, but I’ll talk to him today.” 

“Good,” Fleur said, and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Teddy’s watching Bluey in our living room,” Tonks said. “Why don’t you come have a cuddle? We’ll make you pancakes.” 

Remus laughed and pulled them both into a hug. 

“Yeah,” he sniffed. “That sounds perfect.” 

******************************

“Hello, Sirius. It’s nice to hear from you. How’s your holiday?” Pandora Lovegood’s clipped voice said through Sirius’s mobile phone.

“It was wonderful until this morning,” he said, pacing back and forth in front of Padfoot, who watched him sleepily from his dog bed in Rosehip Cottage’s living room. 

“Right, Caradoc told me you were upset by that photo.” 

“Yes, I’m very upset.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. But how, exactly, is that photo different from any other photo that people have posted of you over the years?” 

“Because this one says where I am,” Sirius said, trying to keep the growing anger and frustration out of his voice.

“A lot of them do. I’m still failing to see the problem. Are you in hiding, or something?” 

“No, I’m not in hiding! I just don’t want this place to be overrun with photographers and gawkers!”

“The hotel, you mean? This…. What’s it called? Blue Moon Bed and Breakfast?”

“Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast. And it’s an inn. A beautiful, quiet, peaceful, perfect inn. I need you to keep people away from here.” 

“Sirius, this inn is a business that operates in public, and you are a public figure. If they didn’t want the attention, they should’ve cancelled your reservation.”

“I didn’t book it under my real name, and that’s not the fucking point anyhow. The point is, they are going to be hounded.”

“And what would you like me to do about that?” 

“I don’t know!” Sirius cried. “Isn’t your whole job to figure out shit like this?” 

“No, actually, Sirius, my job is publicist. It’s making sure your name is out there in the right way. And frankly, you being photographed with pretty young women at a rural bed and breakfast very much aligns with your brand. And it’s not bad for the inn, either. I bet they’re experiencing an influx of interest right now, from people who never would have heard of them otherwise. They should be thanking you on bended knee. It’s better publicity than they could have ever dreamed of.” 

“They don’t want that kind of publicity,” Sirius said. 

“Everyone wants that kind of publicity,” Pandora replied tersely.

“No,” Sirius snapped, gritting his teeth. “Not everyone.” 

There was silence on the line for a long time until Pandora sighed heavily.

“Sirius, listen,” she said. “You called me, out of the blue, at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. Can you just level with me, please? Between us? What’s going on? Why are you so concerned about this place?”

Pandora waited for a reply, and when Sirius didn’t give her one, she spoke again.  

“I can’t help you if I don’t know,” she said quietly.

“I’ve gotten to know the owners. And care about them a lot, too,” Sirius said finally. “I just don’t want them to get hurt.” 

“Right,” Pandora said in that no-nonsense, down-to-business way of hers. “Well, the best way to take the heat off the inn is to leave. If photographers arrive there, give them nothing to find. Once you get back to London, we can tweet out a brand new picture of you in the studio saying something like, ‘Back to work. Can’t wait for the live show on Christmas Eve.’ And the news cycle will turn. Simple as that.” 

“OK,” Sirius said. 

“And another thing,” Pandora said. “The owners of the inn. I know they seem like nice people, and I’m sure they are. But not everyone has your best interest at heart. You always need to be on the lookout for people who are trying to exploit you.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed, looking out the cottage’s window at the hiking trails. “I’m starting to realize that.” 

“I’m sorry you’re upset. Drive safe.” 

“Thanks, Pandora. See you soon.” 

Sirius collapsed onto the couch, and immediately, Padfoot climbed up to join him, resting his head on Sirius’s lap.

“Hiya mate,” he whispered, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “We just bring a shitstorm with us wherever we go, huh?” 

They sat quietly for a long time, their breathing falling into rhythm together, until there was a knock on the door, and Sirius’s stomach clenched. God, he hated that feeling of being worried about who was on the other side of a door. He hadn’t felt it since he left London and had nearly forgotten that sick churning in his gut. But here it was again, as though it never left. He slowly got up and crept to the window, peeking outside as stealthily as he could, then breathed a relieved sigh when he saw James standing on the porch. 

“Hey, mate,” James said, and the look on his face told Sirius that he, too, had seen the photo. “You alright?” 

“Not really,” Sirius said, and let him inside. 

They sat down on the couch, and Padfoot squeezed between them, putting his head on Sirius’s lap again, as though he knew his human was in distress. Sirius told James everything that had happened that morning, including Remus’s strange reaction. 

“He didn’t even care about himself. He only cared about me,” Sirius said, shaking his head. 

“Makes sense,” James replied. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Sirius snapped, annoyed. James, of all people, knew what Sirius’s life was like. “He has no idea what’s coming. Or what would come if I stay. That’s why I’ve got to go home. Today. And you should, too.” 

“But we’re not meant to leave until tomorrow! And you’re not meant to leave until Wednesday!” 

“I know, I’m sorry. But I called Pandora Lovegood, and she thinks—”

“Lovegood? Why?” James spat. “Why would you call fucking Lovegood, of all people? Isn’t she the one who wrote that bullshit statement in the first place? And tweeted it out without even fucking telling you?” 

“Yes, but she’s a professional. She knows what she’s doing.” 

“Yeah, she’s a professional, alright,” James said, shaking his head and staring at Sirius in disbelief. “A professional liar.” 

“What the hell else am I supposed to do? Just sit around here waiting for the other shoe to drop? I haven’t just put a target on Remus’s back. I am the target. I need to leave.” 

“What if Remus doesn’t want you to leave? You have no idea what he wants.” 

“I know what he doesn’t want. He told me that fame would be his worst nightmare. And that’s what I come with. A nightmare’s worth of fame.” 

“You come with a hell of a lot more than that, mate,” James said, shaking his head sadly. “And you can walk away from all of it, right now. I’ve been telling you for months not to renew that bloody contract.” 

“It’s not that easy.” 

“It is that easy.”

“I have a responsibility to hundreds of people.” 

“That’s not you talking,” James snapped. “That’s the fucking network. They’re just trying to make you feel guilty because they’re afraid their cash cow is gonna walk. Those people had jobs before you, and they’ll have jobs after you.The only responsibility you have is to yourself and the people you love. And you love Remus, Sirius. I know you do.” 

“Of course, I do!” Sirius snapped back. “That’s why I need to leave. Haven’t you heard a word I said?” 

James sighed and pulled off his glasses, tossing them onto the table and rubbing his eyes. 

“You always take abuse and think the problem is you,” James said, and oh, that one hit hard. But this time… 

“This time, the problem is me,” Sirius said. 

James only sighed again. He looked tired. Like he was finally out of arguments. 

“Just talk to him first?” James asked wearily. “Please?” 

“Fine,” Sirius agreed. 

James put his glasses back on and stood up. 

“I guess I should start packing,” James said as he walked to the door. “Harry’s gonna be so disappointed. He wanted to hang out with Teddy again today.” 

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” Sirius said. 

James turned to him once more and looked at him with an expression bordering between exhaustion and heartbreak.

“I need you to stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault,” James said. “Please? That’s all I want for Christmas.” 

“I’ll try,” Sirius replied with a hollow laugh. 

“See you at home,” James said, and pulled him into an embrace. They hugged for a long time, and Sirius didn’t want to let him go. But he did, and James left, walking up the empty gravel road to Holly Vine Cottage.

Sirius spent the next hour packing, too. He knew that leaving Remus would be excruciating, and he didn’t want to have any reason to change his mind or get cold feet. His bags would be packed and ready to go. He even loaded them into his car. 

It took him almost another 15 minutes to work up the nerve to text Remus. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, and texting him would make it real. But it was real. And he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t anymore. So, with shaking hands, Sirius finally pulled out his phone.

Sirius: Hey, any chance you can pop by Rosehip Cottage? 

Remus: Of course. See you in a few.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. 

“It’s me,” Remus’s voice said, even before Sirius could worry or wonder about who was there.

Sirius opened the door, and his heart lurched. 

Remus was standing on the porch with his hands in his jacket pockets, his curls sticking out from under his knitted hat, his cheeks pink with cold under his freckles, and oh, god, Sirius couldn’t do this. 

“Are you alright?” Remus asked, as if he wasn’t the one who Sirius needed to be worried about. 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, and stood aside to let him in. 

“James stopped by the house to say goodbye,” Remus said. 

“I know,” Sirius said. “I told him he should probably head back to London today.” 

“I hope they had a nice time.” 

“They had the best time.” 

Remus looked around the room and must have noticed its sparseness. None of Sirius’s things were lying about anymore. But Remus didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled off his hat, leaving his hair messy and adorable, sticking up with static in some places and falling into his eyes in others, and he was just the most beautiful thing Sirius had ever seen. 

Sirius reached out to brush a soft curl off his face without thinking, and before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing, and Sirius was pulling off Remus’s jacket and tossing it to the floor, and they were stumbling into the bedroom and falling onto the bed. They were peeling off each other’s clothes and feeling across each other’s bodies. Remus’s hands were in Sirius’s hair and he was kissing down Sirius’s neck, sucking hard, using his teeth, and Sirius arched into it, begging for more. It would leave a mark, and Sirius wanted it, something dark and undeniable to remember him by, his own blood pulled to the surface, evidence of Remus on his skin, to remind Sirius that this place and this man wasn’t a dream, but was real, if only for a little while. 

Sirius eased Remus onto his back, determined to memorize every inch of his body, trailing his fingers and kissing everywhere. There was this: The way his hip bones dipped right here, and this, the jagged scar above his left knee. There was the exact shade of soft brown hair that trailed down his stomach and the way the muscles in his forearms moved when he touched Sirius’s face or folded croissant dough. There was the feeling of Sirius’s lips against the soft skin of Remus’s inner thighs, softer than the rest, delicate and precious. 

Sirius ran his hands down Remus’s chest and waist, over his hips and legs, wanting to savor every inch of him, as though the memory of him could somehow live in Sirius’s fingers. He kissed him everywhere, over his collarbones and chest, his arms and hands and legs, and Remus let him, seeming to know what Sirius needed in that moment. Remus kept his own hand cupped to Sirius’s face, his fingers running across Sirius’s neck and arms and back, and watched him, watched his lips trail down, down, down, with dark, beautiful eyes. 

Remus’s legs fell open, as naturally as the first petals of spring, and Sirius settled himself between them, kissing and feeling deeper and deeper. He spread Remus apart with his hands and licked and sucked, swirling his tongue, circling his slippery fingers, pulling him open, devouring. He wanted to live inside Remus’s skin, make a home there, close his eyes against the world and do nothing ever again but make him feel good. 

Remus moaned above him as Sirius worked him open slowly with his fingers and tongue, making space for himself in Remus’s body, in his life. Was there room for him here? Could there have been, if things had been different? Could he have stayed? Could there be a place for him? Could he slot himself into Remus’s life without ruining it in the process? 

Sirius crawled up Remus’s body, and when he pushed inside him, the answer felt like yes. Their bodies fit together and so did their minds and hearts, so why not the rest of it, too? Sirius’s cock was achingly hard, but Remus’s body yielded to him easily, opening up and pulling him inside, his tight, warm walls squeezing him and drawing him deeper, closer, never close enough. 

“Kiss me, please,” Remus whispered, as Sirius lowered himself down gently onto Remus’s body. He didn’t need to ask, he never needed to ask. Kissing Remus had become the sweetest thing in Sirius’s life. 

They wrapped around each other, every inch of their bodies connected, as Sirius thrust in and out, slow and deep. But Remus wanted more. Could Sirius give him everything he wanted? Was he brave enough for that? Or selfish enough? It would be selfish, wouldn’t it?  

But Remus hooked his ankle around Sirius’s calf and gripped his arse, pulling in time with the thrust of Sirius’s hips, urging him harder, deeper, and Sirius obeyed, unthinking for once. Their lips and tongues slid together, devouring and desperate. Then Remus’s nails were curving and biting into Sirius’s skin, his muscles were tightening and shaking, and he was crying out into Sirius’s mouth. Sirius felt Remus’s cock throb between their bodies, his come sliding on their stomachs, as he came hard, with nothing but Sirius’s body inside his, nothing but their open mouths pressed together. And even then, Remus pulled Sirius closer, his orgasm pumping on and on, begging Sirius, without words, not to stop or slow down until they were both satisfied. 

Sirius emptied into Remus with a sound he didn’t mean to make, a sound he didn’t know he could make. It was a sob, a wounded thing, and Remus held his face in his hands and kissed him until they were both crying, tasting each other’s sweat and salty tears. Remus had pulled Sirius’s blood right to the surface of his skin with his mouth, drew it forward until they could see it in a dark, mottled bruise that still ached on the side of Sirius’s neck, and come dripped between them. They’d given each other everything their bodies could give and still wanted more. 

They laid together in bed for a long time after that, just holding each other, watching the shadows move across the ceiling, matching each other’s breath and heartbeats. Sirius could lay here forever, putting off the inevitable. 

But Remus. Remus was the brave one. 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered back. 

“You don’t have to, you know,” Remus said, nestling his head against Sirius’s chest and running his fingers up and down Sirius’s stomach, staring at the bedroom wall. “You could stay. Or you could leave for a little while and come back.” 

“I can’t do that, Remus.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s not fair to you.” 

“But you’re not happy. I know you’re not happy.” 

Sirius stilled Remus’s hand, laced their fingers together, then put his other hand under Remus’s chin, drawing it up so they could finally look at each other. He ran a thumb over Remus’s jaw and shook his head, his eyes raking across Remus’s face. Memorize it. Remember his eyes, his freckles, his eyelashes, the pink of his lips after kissing you. 

“But you are happy,” Sirius said. “You were perfectly happy before I came.” 

“I was,” Remus nodded. “But I’m even happier with you. I didn’t know what it was like to love you. Because I do, Sirius. I love you.”

Sirius closed his eyes and swallowed the hard lump of hurt that had risen in his throat.

“You still don’t know what it’s like to love me,” Sirius said, his voice shaking. “Not really. It’s hard. It’s awful.” 

“It feels easy. It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” 

Sirius looked at Remus’s face again. His soft brown eyes and the day-old stubble darkening his jaw. Memorize it. 

“You don’t understand,” Sirius said. “I would ruin everything. Everything you’ve built. I’ve only been here two and a half weeks, and I’m already fucking it up.” 

“You’ve been here nearly three weeks, and no one has bothered you until now.” 

“It’ll only get worse.” 

“Or it could get much, much better.” 

Sirius didn’t reply, he couldn’t. So Remus kept talking. He sat up, letting the covers fall away around his waist, letting go of Sirius’s hand.

“Is this just a thing you do?” he asked, fighting back tears. “Swoop into people’s lives and make them fall in love with you?” 

“No!” Sirius cried, sitting up, too. “God, no, Remus, how could you even say that? I love you, too, you know I do.” 

“Then why won’t you even try? Why won’t you let me try?” 

“Because you have no idea what you’re volunteering for!”

“Let me find out for myself! Don’t decide for me!” 

“Remus,” Sirius said, getting up on his knees, and taking Remus’s face in his hands. “You are sweet. And perfect. And this place is perfect. It deserves to stay that way.” 

Sirius tried to kiss him, but Remus backed away, pulling his face from Sirius’s grasp. 

“Is that what you think?” Remus asked, narrowing his eyes. “Is that what you’re worried about? Perfection? I hate to break it to you, Sirius, but this place isn’t perfect, and neither am I. Nothing is perfect. It never will be. And if you expect it to be, then you will be very, very disappointed. You might as well never leave the house, or talk to anyone, or risk loving anything, ever again. Because life will always be hard. And it’ll always be messy. And bad things will happen when you least expect it. People you trusted will betray you. People you love will get sick and die. Terrible luck will sometimes find you, no matter where you are. Perfection does not exist. Not here. Not anywhere. It’s a lie. And it’s a prison. You, of all people, should know it’s a prison, because you’ve escaped it once already. You were brave then, and you can be brave now. It’s not fair to yourself otherwise.” 

“No one is promised a fair life,” Sirius muttered, looking down at the heap of blankets between them.

“No, they’re not. Believe me, I know that,” Remus said, and Sirius could tell he was trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “But you can try to make it happy. Not perfect, but happy. If you’re not happy you should make a change. Are you happy, Sirius?” 

Sometimes, Sirius thought. I’m happy here with you. I’m happy baking. I’m happy writing. I’m happy eating good food. I’m happy waking up early and seeing the sunrise. I’m happy on my motorbike. I’m happy hiking with Padfoot. I’m happy holding your hand. I’m happy with James, Lily, and Harry. I’m happy with Teddy, teaching him things and talking to him. I’m happy with you. Just existing next to you. I used to be happy in the kitchens at Grimmauld Place. Talking with Miss Shirley, watching her work, pestering her to let me help until she relented and called me a ‘fucking menace’ and kissed me on the forehead and handed me a whisk. I used to be happy on TV. Back when it was new and exciting. When I’d walk down the street and get recognized by strangers who’d tell me they loved me, and seemed to really mean it. Back when it filled me with something that I’d never had before. Sometimes it still feels that way. Most of the time it doesn’t. I’m happy with you.

“I don’t know,” Sirius replied. “I’ve been trying to figure that out.” 

Sirius, Remus, and Padfoot walked down the hill together to Remus’s house, through swirling snow squalls that left their skin red with cold. Sirius turned his collar up against the bitter wind and pulled his black beanie down low, looking around for signs of someone lurking who didn’t belong. But he didn’t see anyone. The inn’s grounds looked the same as they always did. Peaceful. Idyllic. Perfect. Even though Remus would disagree with him on that part. But it was perfect. Remus just couldn’t see what was really there and had no idea how it could be ruined in an instant. 

They walked in silence, until they rounded the corner, and Sirius saw something that turned his blood cold. A man dressed in black, with three long-lens cameras slung over his shoulders and across his chest, was walking slowly down the road past Remus’s house, looking all around him as though searching for something. But before Sirius could say or do anything, Teddy came tearing out of the house, running across the garden toward Remus and Sirius with a bright smile on his face and Moony chasing behind him.

It happened in slow motion. The photographer paused, turned his head toward Teddy, then stepped over the stone wall separating the gravel road from Remus’s garden.

“No,” Sirius breathed, and before he could stop himself, he broke into a run, blind with rage. He saw, for a half second, Teddy’s startled, terrified face, before grabbing the paparazzo by the back of the jacket and yanking him away. 

“Get the fuck away from him,” Sirius said. 

The man stumbled, but immediately raised his camera, pointing it at Sirius’s face, but Sirius was quicker. He shoved him to the ground with two hands flat against his chest, shattering one of his camera lenses against a rock. 

“You’re trespassing,” Sirius snarled, standing over him, breathing hard, while Padfoot growled and barked next to him.

“The fuck I am,” the man replied, propping himself up on his elbows. “This is a bed and breakfast!”

Sirius recognized him. It was the same piece of shit who asked Sirius what Harry would think of his godfather being a cocksucker. It took all the strength Sirius had not to kick him in the stomach or to drag Remus back into his “scrapper” days. 

“The second you stepped over that wall you entered private property,” Sirius corrected. “If you don’t get out of here right now, I will call the police. Somehow, I don’t think they’ll treat a stalker from London too kindly. Especially one trying to take long-lens pictures of a minor in his backyard.” 

“That’s not—” the man protested, but Sirius cut him off. 

“Your word against mine,” Sirius spat. “And you’re not exactly in the best position right now, are you? Laying in the middle of a little boy’s garden on a Sunday morning with three cameras?” 

Sirius bent down and grabbed the man by the jacket and yanked him to his feet, then gave him one more shove for good measure. He stumbled backwards until his calves hit the stone wall, and he stumbled again. 

“I’m going back to London today,” Sirius said. “Spread the word amongst your vermin friends. There’ll be nothing to find here in a half hour’s time. And if I see your face again today, you can expect more than a broken camera.” 

“That’s threatening me with bodily harm, Black!” 

“You’re damn right it is,” Sirius said, taking another step toward him. Padfoot barked again, too, and once again, the man stumbled backwards. He gave Sirius one more scathing look, then scrambled over the stone wall and took off down the road, scurrying like the rodent he was. 

Sirius watched him go for another few moments, hearing nothing but his heart pounding and whooshing in his ears, until there was a small voice behind him.

“You’re leaving?” 

Sirius turned around. Teddy was staring up at him, his brown eyes wide with heartbroken shock. 

“Teddy, Sirius has been on holiday,” Remus said, kneeling down next to him and taking both his mittened hands. “It’s time for him to go home, now. Like everyone who visits us here.”

“But he was gonna leave Wednesday! And then come back! And live here! With us!” 

“Teddy, we never said that. Sirius lives in London. He’s always lived in London.” 

“But he likes it better here. I can tell. He doesn’t smile as big on TV as he does here,” Teddy said, then looked up at Sirius. “Don’t you like it here?” 

“I love it here,” Sirius said, kneeling down next to him, too. “But it’s not a good idea for me to stay.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because sometimes people with cameras come around me. And I don’t want them to bother you and Daddy.” 

“Why do they come around you?” Teddy asked. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. How on earth could you explain the concept of paparazzi to a seven year old? 

“They think I’m interesting,” Sirius said. “And they want to take pictures of me doing things. Even when I don’t want them to.”

“You should just try to be boring!” Teddy cried, his eyes brimming with tears. 

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Sirius said with a sad little laugh, but Teddy wasn’t laughing. 

“I’m not afraid of that guy!” he cried, raising his chin defiantly. 

“I still don’t want him to bother you,” Sirius said. “That’s why I’m going to go home a couple days early.”  

“When are you coming back?” Teddy asked, his voice trembling.

“I…” Sirius started, but his own voice was trembling, too. “I don’t know.” 

“But I wrote to Father Christmas!” Teddy said. 

“Teddy,” Remus said. “Father Christmas doesn’t deliver people. Sirius was just visiting.” 

“But he did deliver people!” Teddy sobbed, the tears falling freely now. “I knew you’d come, and you did! And you were supposed to stay and be daddy’s husband!” 

“Oh, Teddy,” Remus said, but it was too late. Teddy was already running back into the house. Sirius thought his heart had already broken as much as a heart could break, but he was wrong. 

They watched him disappear into the house, and, once again, Sirius choked back tears. 

“Fuck, Remus,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s my fault,” Remus muttered dully, staring at the empty back porch. “I let him get attached. I let myself get attached, too.” 

They turned to each other again, standing alone in the wind-swept garden while the sun struggled to shine through the dense December clouds. 

“I wish I could kiss you one more time,” Sirius said. “But—” 

“But a photographer might see,” Remus finished for him with a sad smile. “I know. It’s alright.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said again. 

“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” Remus said, echoing James nearly word for word. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, and Sirius’s heart ached. Remus reached out a hand, as though on instinct, but drew it away. 

“I would never ask you to leave a life that made you happy,” he said. “Or give up a career that you love. But if you find that you’re not happy after all… you have a place here, with us. You have a place in my life. I feel like I’ve been saving you a spot in my life. I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Sirius replied, no longer bothering to fight the tears. Remus reached out and brushed one away, then kissed it off his own thumb. 

“Bye, Sirius. See you on TV,” he said, then turned and walked away into the cottage.

Chapter Text

The Daily Tattler, 21 December

SUPERSTAR CHEF SIRIUS BLACK POPS ANOTHER PAP

LONDON: Sirius Black is quickly earning a new, not-so-sweet reputation as the UK’s favorite “Bad Boy Baker.” The superstar chef had yet another violent scuffle with a paparazzo, this time at a rural bed and breakfast in a remote corner of Northumberland, a source alleges. That’s merely weeks after he punched another paparazzo outside his London management office.

During the latest scuffle, Black physically attacked a photographer who inadvertently wandered onto private property on the grounds of Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast outside the village of Godric’s Hollow, a source reveals. Black verbally attacked the photographer, shoved him to the ground, threatened bodily harm, and caused extensive damage to his personal property, the source said. An aggressive dog was also involved in the incident. No charges were filed. 

Black has now fled his rural respite and is reportedly back home in London. 

Black made headlines earlier this month when a man claiming to be his former lover released details of their alleged relationship. However, Black denied the affair, tweeting, “If I were gay, I would tell people.”

Although gay rumors have dogged Black for years, a source close to the TV star says he was “shocked and saddened” by the claims. 

Black’s holiday special, “Sirius Eats: A Country Christmas,” will air live on channel 2 at 9:00 pm on Christmas Eve. 

The Daily Tattler, 22 December

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST? BAD BOY BAKER SIRIUS BLACK DISAPPEARS WITHOUT A TRACE FROM RURAL RESPITE

GODRIC’S HOLLOW: Superstar chef Sirius Black made headlines this week when he allegedly attacked a photographer on the grounds of Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast, a small, family-run inn located on the outskirts of the remote Northumberland village of Godric’s Hollow.

However, the people who call the village home apparently haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. A team of reporters traveled to Godric’s Hollow to get to the bottom of the incident, but came up empty handed.

The B&B’s owners said it’s against corporate policy to comment on guests, so we spoke with others who might have seen Black, including inn employees, former guests, and villagers. 

Yet no one had any recollection of the celebrity chef being in their midst. 

“I met a bloke called Stubby Boardman,” said Alfie Biddleston, the B&B’s sous chef. “Suspicious as anything, he was. Had a shifty look about him. And very good with fire. A little too good, if you ask me.” 

His partner, Isla Grey, was similarly unhelpful in tracking down Black. She vomited in the hedges outside their home several times instead of providing information about Black’s possible whereabouts. 

Retired MI-5 agent Peter Pettigrew, now a local goat and sheep farmer, also denied having met Black.

“Hallucinations can sometimes seem so real that they invade our memories and dreams, clouding our realities and leaving us wondering whether our lives are truly happening in the corporeal sense or are merely illusory shadows occurring only in our minds,” he said. “By the way, I’m building a cheese cave. Want to have a look-see?” 

After so many dead ends, our reporters began to suspect that Black’s team had put the word out to inn employees and associates not to speak about him. That’s when we turned to guests. 

Yet that, too, proved unfruitful. One pair of guests, Sunny and Sven Olsen, spoke no English, only Norwegian. Two others, Michael Smith and Brendan McCartney, spoke only Irish. 

“Póg mo thóin,” Michael said.

“Helvete ja,” Sunny added.  

Finally, we caught up with 67-year-old Natalie Prince, who traveled to the inn this month with her wife, Ellie, and asked whether she had met any celebrity chefs during her stay.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we did!” she said. “Ellie and I had no idea he was any kind of big shot.” 

But Prince denied that the celebrity chef was Sirius Black.

“Him? No! He can’t even ice a biscuit!” she said. “It’s Remus, apparently! Never woulda known! He’s humble as anything, that one. And he makes a mean almond croissant!” 

Remus woke with the sun on the morning of Christmas Eve, like always. The sky was a pretty, wispy pink and his feet crunched across the gravel paths and atop the frosted grass. He didn’t slow down as he passed the empty porch at Rosehip Cottage. Instead, he walked a little bit faster and tipped his head up to the clouds, reminding himself that it was Christmas Eve and that he had a beautiful life.

He entered the chicken coop alone. Gathered eggs alone. He had coffee, baked cinnamon rolls, and hummed Christmas carols to his sourdough starter, all alone. He took the breakfast basket orders from Alfie and tucked napkins and silverware in each. He filled macarons and chopped nuts. He did those things all alone, too, like he’d always done. For years. And he’d alway been happy, he reminded himself.

But now…

“Looking a little glum, boss,” Alfie said, glancing up at him from across the counter where they were both prepping grab-and-go breakfast boxes for guests to eat the next morning, since the kitchen would be closed on Christmas Day. 

“Sorry,” Remus muttered. He hated that he was wearing his emotions so obviously.  

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alfie said, chiffoning a fat bundle of mint leaves. “I kinda miss him, too.” 

“Really?” Remus asked, trying to school his expression into a happier one. “Even though he was planning a hostile takeover?” 

“I’m a very forgiving person,” Alfie shrugged. “Isla had even knitted him a hat for Christmas.” 

Remus laughed despite himself, picturing Sirius in a hat with sheep’s ears. 

“Porkchop Junior?” Remus asked. 

“No. Isla reckoned he needed something edgier. It’s in the shape of a hippogryph.” 

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a mythical creature that first appeared in the 16th century writings of the Italian poet Ludovico Ariosto,” Alfie said, as though this was common knowledge. “It’s half eagle, half horse.” 

“Oh. Right. How silly of me.” 

“It has wings, a horse’s tail, a beak, and really long, fierce talons.” 

“And that’s… that’s all on the hat?” Remus clarified, hovering his knife over the pile of chopped nuts while he stared at Alfie. 

“Of course! And it’s nice and scary, too. Yarn can be proper terrifying, you know.” 

Remus closed the kitchen early that day, and made his way home, his head bowed against the cold winter wind and his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. The inn’s grounds were quiet and still. Most guests had gone home for Christmas.

There weren’t even any photographers or reporters lurking about anymore. A handful of them had hung around the inn and village for a couple of days, but they lost interest quickly when they realized that the person they were looking for was nowhere to be found and that no one would ever say anything about him, anyhow. Remus had always known that he, Tonks, and Fleur had built an amazing community around themselves, but he didn’t fully grasp just how amazing it really was until now. Not a soul had said a word about Sirius, nor would they ever.

“Daddy!” Teddy said, running to greet Remus at the door of the kitchen when he walked in the house. He threw his arms around Remus’s waist and held him a little longer than normal. Remus let him, and held onto him, too. Then he kissed the top of Teddy’s head and looked around the kitchen, where Tonks and Fleur had already set up an extensive Christmas biscuit making operation.

“I see we have a lot to do,” Remus said, tying on an apron.

“Can we start?” Teddy asked, bouncing on his toes and wearing an apron of his own. “Father Christmas could be here any minute!” 

“I think we have a bit of time before he arrives,” Remus laughed, looking at the clock. It was just after noon. “But yes, we can definitely start.” 

They cranked up the Christmas music and the four of them got baking. It was wonderful, as always, and Remus almost forgot how sad and lonely he’d been the past few days.

Almost. 

It was late afternoon by the time they finished baking and decorating the dozens and dozens of Christmas biscuits. They set aside a few for Father Christmas and packed up the rest into beautiful little gift baskets. Then, they got all bundled up in coats, hats, and mittens; filled a little red wagon with their biscuit baskets; and set out for their annual Christmas Eve tradition of walking through the village to drop in on parties and deliver gifts. 

“Do you want to try to make it back by 9:00 in time for… you know,” Tonks whispered as they walked down the dark street.

“No,” Remus whispered back, looking at Teddy and Fleur, who were walking a few steps ahead of them, holding hands, while Fleur pulled the wagon behind her. “I’m not sure I want to watch it, anyhow.” 

“Whatever you want, love,” Tonks replied. Then, she slipped her hand into his and they kept walking in silence. 

They had a wonderful night, dropping in on Pete’s Christmas carol singalong that he hosted for all the neighborhood farmers and their families; visiting Teddy’s friends, Peyton and Charlie; stopping by Alfie and Isla’s Yule celebration; and saying hello to other friends and neighbors along the way. By the time they were finished and heading home, Teddy’s feet were tired, so he hopped into the wagon and bundled under a thick wool blanket that Isla had knitted for him.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see Father Christmas’s sleigh?” Teddy yawned as he looked up at the vast starry sky. Remus looked up too, his eyes automatically finding the brightest star. It was beautiful, as always. 

“You never know,” Tonks said. 

“Let us know if you spot it,” Fleur added.

“OK,” Teddy yawned again, and snuggled deeper under the blanket. 

Back at home, Teddy changed into pyjamas and put out treats for Father Christmas: A plate of biscuits, a glass of milk, and some carrots and sugar cubes for the reindeer. 

“I think I’ll try to wait up,” Teddy said sleepily as he nestled into bed and settled his sweet little head onto the pillow. But already, his eyes were drooping shut. 

Fleur and Tonks said goodnight, and left the room. But before Remus could do the same, Teddy called him back.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?” Remus said. 

“I think maybe…” Teddy whispered, as though confessing a secret. “I think Father Christmas might bring Sirius back tonight.”

“Oh, Teddy,” Remus said, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Teddy had talked about Sirius every day since he left, asking Remus what he thought Sirius was doing right then, wondering whether he would come back soon, wondering what he was baking, talking about Padfoot and Harry. Remus answered as best as he could, but always gently reminded Teddy that Sirius lived in London. That he had only been visiting. That he’d been on holiday. That he wasn’t coming back to live with them.

Now, Remus reached under the covers, found Teddy’s hand, and took it in his. 

“Remember what we said? About Father Christmas? He can’t deliver people,” Remus said. 

“But—” 

“And Sirius lives in London, Teddy,” Remus said. “Remember?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Father Christmas is going to come and bring you lots of presents!” Remus said, trying his best to sound excited. “And he’s going to love the biscuits you made for him! We’re going to have a wonderful day tomorrow.” 

“OK.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Daddy.” 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

When Remus got downstairs, Fleur and Tonks were cuddled together on the couch in front of the Christmas tree. For 15 years, Remus had felt nothing but joy for his two best friends and the love they had for each other. But now, for the first time, Remus looked at them and felt lonely. 

As though reading his mind, Fleur reached out a hand to beckon Remus to join them.

“Come on, love,” she said. “Sit with us.” 

Remus joined their little cuddle with a sigh, resting his head on Fleur’s shoulder. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and twined their fingers together. 

“You OK?” Tonks asked. 

“Not really,” Remus said. “I’m trying, though. For Teddy.” 

“You should try for yourself, too,” Fleur said. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“You still haven’t talked to him?” Tonks asked. 

“No,” Remus said. In fact, he’d fought the urge to text Sirius all week. Sirius’s absence already felt like a cavernous wound. He didn’t think ripping it open more would help. 

“Teddy asked whether Father Christmas would bring Sirius back, and I told him no,” Remus said. “But a part of me… a part of me is hoping that when I wake up tomorrow, he’ll be here.” 

Remus felt Fleur’s body shift next to him. She’d already expressed her thoughts about Remus telling Sirius he had a place in his life. 

“I know he always needed to go home for his job. And I want him to come back, too,” she’d said after he told them what happened the day Sirius left. “But an open-ended invitation for him to come back whenever he wants isn’t fair to you. Not to mention Teddy.” 

Remus knew she was right, and told Fleur as much. He promised that if he didn’t hear from Sirius within a month, that he’d move on. Fleur had wanted to give him only a week, but she reluctantly agreed.

“And he’ll be getting a talking-to, as well,” she warned, and Remus agreed to that, too. He just wanted Sirius back. He had meant it when he said that he felt like he’d been saving a place in his life for him. It still felt that way.  

Tonight, though, Fleur didn’t add to her reprimands. Instead, she merely hugged him.

“I hope he comes, too, darling,” she said. 

“Last chance to watch the end of the Christmas special,” Tonks said, nodding up at the clock. It was 9:50, and Sirius would be on the telly for another 10 minutes. But Remus had already decided. He couldn’t bear to watch it. 

“It’s OK,” Remus said. “I’d rather just talk to you guys instead.” 

Later, after Tonks and Fleur had gone to bed, Remus put his trainers on, wrapped a blanket around himself, and stepped outside into the quiet winter’s night. He gazed upward and again, found Sirius, twinkling and beautiful, brighter than everything else in the sky.

“Hi,” he said to the star. “Happy Christmas. We had a nice day today. Made Christmas biscuits for the neighbors and went to a few parties. It was fun. Pete played Christmas songs on the piano. I don’t think I ever told you that he plays. He’s pretty good, too. And Isla knitted you a hat. She showed it to me. It looks kind of weird, but I think you’d like it. I won’t spoil the surprise of what it is, though. Everyone asked about you, of course. Hoping you’re alright. I hope you’re alright, too.

“You know, it’s strange. I didn’t have you for very long. But I still miss you. I miss you more than I can say. And I knew… I knew right away that you fit. With me. With Teddy. And this place. I feel like I was born with a space in my heart in the shape of you that I didn’t even know was there. Then you filled it. And I felt complete in a way that I had no idea was possible. But now that I finally know it’s there? And it’s empty again? It hurts, Sirius.” 

Remus’s voice broke and trailed away. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, burning against his skin in the cold. But still, he stared at the star, pressing his hand to his heart, as though he could fill that empty space inside and make it stop aching. He stared at the star and made a Christmas wish of his own. 

“I know you said I was happy without you. And I was. But I’m happier with you. I love you. I’m still saving a place for you. Come home to me, Sirius. Come home.”

***************************

Sirius had only been back in London for a few days, but he was already making Caradoc Dearborn’s life harder.

“What the fuck happened to your hair?” Dearborn asked when he saw Sirius for the first time on the morning of Christmas Eve. “And what, in god’s name, is on your neck?” 

“Happy Christmas to you, too, Caradoc,” Sirius said cheerily, settling into a chair in a conference room at the TV studio and sipping his coffee. “My holiday was lovely, thank you for asking.” 

“Sirius, my ulcer has been bleeding since you punched that photographer on Sunday. Please, don’t toy with me,” Dearborn said. 

“I got a haircut,” Sirius sighed. “It’s something people do occasionally.” 

“But a haircut this drastic requires input from focus groups!” Dearborn cried, pointing at Sirius’s head, his voice rising in panic. “You’re practically bald!” 

“I am not!” 

“And what about that thing on your neck?” 

“Ahh, yes! Glad you noticed. This little beauty is something that we in the business call a hickey,” Sirius said brightly, tilting his head sideways to show it off. It had been days since Remus had put it there, and it had barely faded at all, like some kind of goddamn Christmas miracle. Just one other miraculous thing about Remus that Sirius could add to the list. “That’s some talent, isn’t it? The bloke who gave it to me is a pro.” 

Dearborn gripped the armrest of his chair and closed his eyes.

“Please tell me that’s a euphemism and you didn’t actually get a hickey from a professional sex worker,” Dearborn’s paranoid voice hissed. 

“Oh my god, Caradoc, will you calm down?” Sirius laughed wearily. “I got a haircut and a hickey. It doesn't exactly signal the End Times.” 

But Dearborn wasn’t listening. Instead, he was texting furiously and muttering about makeup and wardrobe. Then he looked up at Sirius again and plastered on a smile.

“Have you had a chance to look over the draft of the new contract?” Dearborn asked in a falsely bright voice. “I think you’ll find it’s very generous. The network scaled back your television commitments significantly, which should leave you plenty of time to write.” 

But Sirius knew that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been offered a 40-episode deal, instead of a 50-episode deal. And instead of three specials a year, the network was asking for two. They also wanted a rather significant cut of book sales. 

“I have,” Sirius said lightly. 

“And?” 

“I need a few more days to think about it. I’ve asked my brother to have a look at it, too.” 

“But… but we have lawyers already,” Dearborn said weakly.

“Second set of eyes, that’s all,” Sirius replied with an easy shrug, as two women, Robin from makeup and Edna from wardrobe, walked into the conference room behind them. 

“You wanted to see us?” Edna asked. 

“Yeah, thanks. Can you cover up that thing on his neck?” Dearborn asked, looking between the two women. He clearly didn’t know who was who.

“I’ll take a look,” Robin said, leaning closer to him. “Hey, Sirius,”

“Hey, Robin,” he replied. Robin had been doing his makeup for years and was a great pal.

“Geez, it’s pretty dark,” she said, touching her fingertips to the hickey gently. “When did you get it? Today? It’s not even noon.” 

“Sunday,” Sirius told her with a grin, and Robin let out a long, low whistle. 

“Damn,” she said. “Nice work.” 

“I thought so,” Sirius agreed. 

“Oh my god!” Dearborn exclaimed. “Can you cover it or not?” 

“Yeah, I can cover it,” Robin said. “But it’ll require heavier makeup than usual, so I’d have to cover some of the tattoos, too.” 

“Put him in a turtleneck, then,” Dearborn told Edna, looking like his head was about to explode. “Make sure it’s fucking festive, please.” 

“You got it,” Edna nodded. 

“Maybe something with jingle bells,” Sirius added, and Edna bit back a laugh.

“Goodbye ladies, thank you,” Dearborn said pointedly.

“Bye, Sirius,” Robin and Edna said on their way out the door. 

“Bye,” he replied, then turned to Dearborn. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me?” Dearborn cried wildly. “What’s wrong with you? You’re practically bald, and you have a hickey the size of Greenland on your neck! Crouch is going to lose his shit when he sees you.” 

“Good,” Sirius said. “He shouldn’t be carrying shit around, anyhow. He must smell terrible!” 

Dearborn closed his eyes and whimpered again, just as the assistant director popped his head into the conference room.

“Sirius? It’s time for rehearsal,” he said. 

“Alright, thanks, Matt,” Sirius replied. 

“We’ll show you around the set, too,” Matt said. “We’re filming on a different soundstage today.” 

Sirius stood up and looked at Dearborn.

“Are we done?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine, I guess,” Dearborn shrugged hopelessly, as though he’d completely given up on life. 

Sirius followed Matt down the long corridor. He actually felt a little guilty for messing with Dearborn. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. He’d just felt so different since he’d come home. Things that seemed incredibly important only three weeks ago, like participating in a haircut focus group, seemed silly and meaningless now. 

And bigger things felt different, too, including the biggest thing of all. He’d spent ten years hiding in plain sight, misleading the public about who he really was. It had always felt like a harmless half-truth, just part of the job. Now, though, it felt like an outright lie. One that was slowly corroding him from the inside out. 

Even simply being home felt different. London felt at once too big and too small, too sprawling and too cramped. He was constantly in a rush, but never getting anywhere. Everything was too loud, yet no one talked to each other. His phone never stopped buzzing, but nothing important was happening. He was too tired to write, yet too anxious to sleep. The only people who said hello to him on a daily basis were those who were somehow in his employ. His flat looked like it belonged to a stranger. Too neat, too sparse, too unlived in. It even smelled wrong. Padfoot seemed to feel it, too. Instead of sleeping in his dog bed, like usual, he paced across the flat, restless, as though waiting for something to happen. 

And then, of course, there was Remus. 

Remus was everywhere and nowhere, and missing him felt like physical pain. His absence had seeped into everything; it was in every star that Sirius couldn’t see but knew was there; in every bite of mediocre food that wasn’t made by his hands; in the cold, empty space in Sirius’s bed. 

But the fear was still there, and the worry, too. Sirius usually never read the tabloids, but he’d kept an obsessive watch over them since he’d been back in London. He’d set up Google Alerts for Remus’s name, the B&B’s name, Godric’s Hollow, anything he could think of that might signal that Remus was in trouble in some way. 

But no trouble came. In fact, to Sirius’s surprise, there weren’t many articles about the inn at all. And there weren’t many articles about him, either, come to think of it. It was as though everyone in Godric’s Hollow had taken a vow of silence when it came to Sirius Black, and it didn’t take long for the tabloids to lose interest. Turns out Teddy’s advice to “be boring” was pretty good. 

“See?” James had said, when Sirius told him all this. “I told you.”

Sirius had gone to the Potter’s house the day after he’d arrived home to find James trying to replicate Remus’s bacon, cheddar, and chive scones. It was not going well. Among other things, the bacon was still sizzling when he dumped it into the batter and now the whole thing was melting.

“Told me what?” Sirius asked.

“That it wouldn’t be the disaster you imagined,” James replied.

“That’s because I left,” Sirius said. 

“Nah. You’re giving yourself way too much credit, mate,” James said. “Face it, they’re protecting you.” 

“They shouldn’t have to protect me,” Sirius said, echoing the conversation he’d had with Remus. But James wasn’t nearly as patient as Remus had been. 

“Oh, fuck off, they don’t have to do anything!” James scoffed. “You’re not even there! They’re doing it because they want to! And they think you’re worth protecting.” 

“Maybe,” Sirius shrugged. 

“Maybe?” James cried. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened an article, and tapped the screen with a floury finger. “They’re pretending they don’t even know who you are! Alfie called you Stubby Boardman. Why is this oozing?” 

And indeed, James was now attempting to spoon the melting batter onto a baking sheet. 

“The answer to that question is manifold,” Sirius cringed, looking at the sticky mess. “Did you follow Remus’s recipe exactly?” 

“Well, I mean… I might have improvised a little,” James admitted. 

“One does not riff in baking, James.”

Now, Sirius was following Matt onto the soundstage where they’d be filming the Christmas special that night. 

“As you can see, we’ve created an authentic country cottage,” Matt said, gesturing around the busy set, where dozens of people were bustling around. “It’s meant to feel like a place where a family would live. You’ll be baking, wrapping gifts, visiting with your friends, and answering letters from your fans. What do you think? Isn’t it beautiful?” 

“I guess,” Sirius shrugged, and Matt’s face fell. 

“What’s wrong with it? It’s perfect.” 

And indeed, it was perfect. It looked as though it were plucked from the pages of a design magazine, with pristine furniture that had never been sat on; a spotless kitchen with gleaming countertops and appliances; a perfectly trimmed Christmas tree; and even a fireplace without a smudge of soot. 

“You said it’s supposed to look like a family lives here, right?” Sirius asked.

“Right.” 

“It doesn’t look like that at all.”

“Oh. What… what do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, where’s the art for the fridge?”

“Art?” 

“Yeah. Like kids’ drawings, family pictures, stuff like that?” 

“We don’t have any.”

“Let’s get some, then.” 

“Well… although that’s a really great idea,” Matt started, with the tone of someone trying to placate “the talent,” “unfortunately, something like that would be really visually distracting on camera. And we’re also sponsored by Miele, which is the company that makes the refrigerator, so I’m not sure they’d like their product all covered up.” 

“Oh. Alright then,” Sirius nodded, still frowning as he looked around. He knew it was a set, but why did it have to look so soulless? 

“Is something else wrong?” Matt asked. 

“No,” Sirius said, but even that small lie felt corrosive.

“I mean yes,” Sirius corrected himself quickly. “These people who live here—this family—they own high-end appliances, right? So they must like cooking. And yet, there’s no evidence, anywhere, that they cook at all! The kitchen is spotless. There aren’t even any cookbooks on the shelves.”

“Cookbooks? You want cookbooks? That should be easy. I’m sure we can find some,” Matt nodded, then spoke into his headset. “Can I get someone from set design down to studio C-7, please? Mr. Black is requesting decorative cookbooks.” 

“Not decorative cookbooks, actual cookbooks. And a recipe binder!” Sirius said. “That would be even more realistic. Maybe one with stickers all over it.” 

“Er, right. I’ll see what we can find,” Matt agreed. “Anything else?” 

“Well, the Christmas tree is pretty awful, too,” Sirius said, and Matt sighed. 

“What’s wrong with the Christmas tree?” Matt asked. 

“The decorations are way too perfect. Why do they all match? And why are they spaced out so evenly?”

“So it’ll look nice?” Matt said.

“Yes, but you said yourself that this is a family cottage! If that’s the case, half the ornaments would be homemade. Some of them would be broken and glued back together. They’d be all in clumps because kids are too short to reach the taller branches. And the star would be a little crooked, too. But it’s not crooked at all, it’s perfect!” 

“We hired a professional designer to decorate this tree,” Matt said. “We paid for perfect.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sirius said. 

“Is there a problem?” a cold voice asked behind them. 

Barty Crouch Sr. was striding onto the set with a nervous-looking set designer trotting along in his wake. Crouch looked at Matt, then waited for a beat before speaking again.

“Well?” Crouch barked.

“It seems that Sirius is a bit unhappy with the set design,” Matt said. 

“I’m not unhappy with it,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just suggesting some tweaks to make it look more realistic.”

“We don’t want it to look realistic,” Crouch said. “We want it to look like the ideal country Christmas.” 

“But I thought it was supposed to be a family cottage,” Sirius said. “There’s absolutely nothing here that says ‘family.’” 

“We can get a sign that says ‘Family’ and hang it somewhere in the kitchen,” the set designer offered. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Sirius sighed. “It’s just all too perfect! Like, for instance, the Christmas tree. If this were a real family Christmas tree—”

“Well, it’s not a real family Christmas tree!” Crouch snapped. “It’s a TV set, Mr. Black.”

“Don’t you want it to look homey and authentic?” Sirius said. 

“No. We want it to look good,” Crouch replied. “And speaking of which, what the hell did you do to your hair?” 

“I cut it,” Sirius said.

“Yes, isn’t that just par for the course for you these days?” Crouch said. 

“People get haircuts,” Sirius replied. “Every damned day. It appears you got one recently, too. It looks spiffing, by the way.” 

But Crouch didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave Sirius a long, measured look.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Mr. Black,” Crouch said finally.

I’ve had a pretty good-sized dick getting into me, actually, Sirius wanted to say, and had to literally bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying it out loud before Crouch continued. 

“You have been the darling of English baking for a decade,” Crouch said in a voice that was soft and almost sad. “You have built an unbelievable amount of goodwill with the public. And this network has always stood by you. We’ve always supported you and your career. Now, you’re getting into fights with paparazzi, acting difficult on set, and refusing to sign your new contract, even though it is extremely generous and gives you everything you demanded. Now, on Christmas Eve, you’re holding hundreds of jobs hostage while you dangle your decision in the faces of the very people who helped you build and maintain your brand. I’ve never heard of anything so damn selfish. What else could you possibly want?” 

Sirius’s face flushed. The entire set had gone quiet, and Sirius felt everyone’s eyes on him. Hot, burning shame flooded his body. He knew this feeling. He knew it so fucking well. 

Sit up straight, Sirius. Stay out of the kitchen, Sirius. Be quiet, Sirius. What’s wrong with you, Sirius? We’ve given you everything, Sirius. Why are you so selfish, Sirius?

“I just want to be myself,” Sirius replied, his voice breaking a little. And oh, god, yes, he knew this feeling. But Crouch only shook his head in disappointment, his eyes drifting down to the hickey on Sirius’s neck and back up to his face. 

“This is who you are, then?” Crouch asked quietly. “Someone who disappears for three weeks without bothering to tell a single colleague? Someone who resorts to violence to solve their problems? Someone who demands changes to a beautifully crafted set, that people have worked so hard on, just hours before filming? And again, doing it all on Christmas Eve?” 

Sirius knew that Crouch was saying all of this in front of the entire crew for a reason. But goddamn, it was working. When Sirius didn’t reply, Crouch looked around at everyone with a fatherly, apologetic smile. 

“This set is beautiful. Please pay no attention to Mr. Black’s insults,” he told the people in the room. “We appreciate all of your hard work. You’re creating Christmas magic for families across Britain. And you’re giving comfort to people who are lonely on Christmas Eve. We’re so grateful to each and every one of you. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts.” 

And with that, Crouch turned away and strode off the set. 

Sirius felt numb as he moved through the rehearsal, silently nodding along with the instructions and the script. He could barely even make eye contact with James and Lily when they arrived on set with Harry later that day. 

“Alright, we have an hour-long show with 44 minutes of content and 16 minutes of commercials,” the director said. “There are three baking segments. The first is with Sirius alone, the second with actress Marlene McKinnon, the third with Mary Berry. There will also be three cutaway segments: Two live performances by Ellie Goulding singing Christmas medleys in front of a live audience at Regent’s Park and one pre-recorded segment featuring Sirius’s charity, the Good Food Foundation. Lastly, Sirius will read letters from his young fans, accompanied by his godson, Harry. There are three letters, and they’ve all been pre-screened and vetted. They’ll be in a decorative Christmas letter box on the kitchen counter, and Harry will hand Sirius each of them, one at a time. Then Sirius will say thank you, give one more plug for his charity and Marlene’s new film, wish everyone a Happy Christmas, and say goodnight to the audience. Everyone got it? Right. Let’s run it through.”

Sirius could feel James’s eyes on him all throughout the rehearsal, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell him what happened. It was already humiliating enough. He couldn’t rehash it again right before the show. He was barely keeping it together as it was. Instead, Sirius stayed to himself, studying his script, getting dressed in the red turtleneck they told him to wear, and sitting through hair and makeup in near silence. 

“Thanks, Robin,” Sirius said quietly when she was done doing his makeup. He stood up to leave, but Robin stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Hey,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes. “Crouch is the arsehole. Not you.” 

“You heard about all that, huh?” Sirius asked, feeling his face flush again.

“News travels fast,” she said. “But listen. No one—and I mean no one—thinks you’re selfish, Sirius. And none of us will blame you if you walk.” 

Sirius didn’t know what to say. He only nodded.

“Have a good show,” Robin said, and patted him on the arm. “And Happy Christmas.”

“Thanks. Happy Christmas.” 

Sirius walked onto the set in a daze and stood perfectly still while the sound crew put his microphone on. 

“And here’s an earpiece, too, since we’re live,” one of the techs told him. 

“Right, thanks,” Sirius said, glancing up at Crouch, who was standing just offstage with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a headset and watching him with a handful of other network executives. 

“Alright places everyone!” the director called. “We are live in one minute!” 

But despite this instruction, James ran onto the set, arguing with people who stood in his way and elbowing past them. 

“What happened?” James asked when he finally reached Sirius, his face creased with worry. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Sirius whispered, his eyes darting to Crouch, who was watching them with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Are you alright?” James asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sirius assured him. 

“Then fix your face, you’re about to go on the telly. You look like your mum just died. Well, not your mum. But someone’s mum. One that you like,” James said, and Sirius burst out laughing. Thank god for James Potter. 

“Cameras ready! Sirius, ready! Potter, off the stage!” the director yelled. “We’re on in five, four, three, two…” 

And they were off and running. The lights were bright, the cameras were rolling, tens of thousands of people were watching, and a switch flipped in Sirius’s mind. Suddenly, he wasn’t Sirius anymore, but Sirius Black. Celebrity Chef, Britain’s Favorite Baker, the UK’s Hottest Bachelor, Host of the Beloved Hit Television Program, Sirius Eats, Winner of…

“Happy Christmas, everyone! We’re going to have so much fun together this evening!” Sirius said with a bright, glowing smile, and adrenaline flooded his veins. 

The show was a smash. Everything was going off without a hitch. Sirius was charming and funny. His bakes were beautiful. And, as always, the camera adored him. Marlene McKinnon was loveable and endearing; Mary Berry was warm and kind; Ellie Goulding sang like an angel; and Sirius suddenly remembered what he once loved about making television. The whole evening felt charmed. Magical. 

They’d just cut to their last commercial break when a terrible, screeching sound ripped through Sirius’s earpiece.

“Shit. I’ve got some major feedback, and it’s not stopping,” he winced, and the sound crew rushed toward him with a replacement, working around the makeup crew who were also doing touch-ups on Sirius’s face. 

“Sorry about that, Sirius,” a sound crew member said, as they hurriedly swapped out the old earpiece for a new one. 

“That’s alright. I didn’t need that eardrum anyhow,” Sirius laughed, and the crew rushed offstage again. 

But this new earpiece wasn’t quite right, either. Sirius could hear voices in it. He was just about to signal the sound crew again when he heard something that made his heart catch in his throat. 

“Silver Moon Bed and Breakfast.” 

Sirius froze, then looked up. Crouch and the other executives were talking, looking right at Sirius in their crisp suits and shiny shoes. And Sirius could hear every word they said. 

“I can’t believe Lovegood knew Black was staying at a gay hotel, and she didn’t do anything about it.” 

“You know the owners are in a throuple? And there’s a kid involved? Perverse.” 

“Well, Lovegood’s been sacked, so that’s one problem out of the way.” 

“We’ll work on NDAs for the owners. Get them by the balls if they talk.” 

Sirius felt numb. But a second later, Harry was climbing onto his lap, and the director was calling for quiet on the set. 

“We’re back in five, four, three, two…” 

“Welcome back,” Sirius said, plastering on a smile, determined to make it through the last seven minutes of this godforsaken show. “As you can see, my godson Harry is here to help read letters from some of my youngest viewers. There’s nothing I love more than hearing from kids, seeing their amazing bakes, watching them learn, and imagining their incredible futures. Harry, will you deliver the first letter for me, please?” 

Harry obeyed, reaching into the letter box and handing Sirius the first letter. 

“Dear Sirius,” Sirius read. “My name is Maggie, and I’m from Wales. I’m 9 years old, and I love baking cakes with my gran. I especially love lemon buttercream. Sometimes I eat it right off the spoon!” 

Sirius looked up at the camera and gave it a cheeky smile. 

“So do I, Maggie! But shhh, don’t tell anyone!” 

Then Sirius looked down at Harry. 

“Do you sometimes eat icing off the spoon, Harry?” 

“All the time!” Harry cried, and Sirius laughed. 

Sirius read the entire letter out loud, while photos of Maggie, her gran, her pets, and her bakes flashed across the screen and soft instrumental Christmas music played in the background. 

Next up, was a letter from Michael, who was 6 years old and lived in Kent, and after that, a letter from Gemma, a 12-year-old from Edinburgh. Each letter showed off drawings, pictures, and stories about all the things they loved to bake.

“That was fun, Harry! Thank you for helping!” Sirius said, ruffling Harry’s hair when he’d finished reading the last letter. Then he turned to the camera. “And thank you all for writing—” 

“But Sirius!” Harry said, feeling around inside the letterbox. “There’s one more!” 

And Harry pulled one last letter out of the box. Sirius could hear a commotion in his earpiece, confused voices talking to each other. 

“I thought there were only three letters!” 

“Where did that come from?” 

“They were all supposed to be vetted, what is going on?” 

Despite the commotion in his ear, Sirius took the letter from Harry’s hand without missing a beat or dropping his smile. Sirius Black was nothing if not a professional.  

“One more? Thanks, Harry!” he said. “I love surprises. And this feels like a special Christmas surprise.” 

Sirius ripped open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and began to read. 

“Dear Mr. Black, My name is Edward Remus Dela…”

Sirius’s voice trailed away, and the world around him faded with it. The bright lights dimmed, and the cameras disappeared. There were no more people watching him, no more voices shouting in his earpiece about “dead air” and “cutting to commercial.” There was only a thin piece of paper trembling in his hands. There were only words scrawled across the page in purple crayon. There were only drawings of chickens and greenhouses, cottages with a slide, two mums, one daddy, a little boy, and a cat. There were only the stars that Sirius couldn’t see but that he knew were there, beautiful and twinkling just beyond the bright, blinding lights. And there was only his own racing, pounding heart. 

“Sirius?” Harry’s voice finally broke through. “What’s it say?” 

“What?” Sirius asked, looking around. He felt groggy and dazed, as though struggling to get his bearings after a long midday nap. 

“What did the letter say?” Harry asked again, looking up at Sirius through his round wire glasses. 

“It said,” Sirius started, his voice shaking, but his words sure, “it said come home.”

Chapter Text

Dear Mr. Black,

My name is Edward Remus Delacour Lupin. But you can call me Teddy.

My daddy said it is sometimes hard to be gay because people are not always nice to you. I guess that’s why you kept it a secret. But everyone in my village is nice to Daddy, Mummy, and Maman, so you should come be gay here! You can live at my house with my daddy and also be his husband. Then I can have two daddies and two mummies. 

It is fun at my house. I think you would like it. We have chickens and a stream. I have a cat. Does Padfoot like cats? Padfoot can come too. My cat is called Moony.

I am a very good chef, just like you and my daddy. I know how to make popcorn and toast and cake. If you were my other daddy we could all be chefs together.

Also my daddy would make the best husband for you. He is nice and funny and very smart and very handsome. When I feel sad he gives me hugs. And he sings me songs. He says funny jokes and he bakes the best croissants ever. He makes them with almonds. I help him at the inn. I give good hugs too. If you lived at my house we could hug you all the time. 

I already love you a lot. I think my daddy does too because when we watch you on the telly he has a funny smile on his face. 

Please come home to our house! 

I love you! 

Love, 

Teddy

PS: My daddy's name is Remus.

*********************

The stars and moon were still glowing in the sky when Teddy heard it: A crunching sound outside his bedroom window. 

He had fallen asleep on the floor the night before in a fort made of blankets and pillows. His plan had been to look out the window all night long so he could spot Father Christmas arriving in his sleigh.

As soon as Daddy kissed him goodnight, Teddy slipped out of bed and started building his fort, leaving a little open spot so he could look out the window. He piled pillows and his sleeping bag inside, found his torch in the desk drawer, crawled into the fort, and took up his nighttime post. 

Teddy watched the sky. There was a really bright, shiny star that seemed to twinkle right at him, like it was saying hello. 

“Hello,” he replied through a yawn, then squeezed his eyes shut tight and made a wish. But before he could wonder whether it might come true, Teddy rested his head on his arms and fell asleep.  

The next thing Teddy knew, he was being woken up by sounds outside. Crunching gravel, then a car door slamming shut and a dog barking. 

Teddy scrambled to his knees, peered out the window, and pressed his hands to the glass with a gasp. 

“Daddy!” Teddy cried. 

Then he remembered that Daddy couldn’t hear him. So he crawled out of the tent, jumped to his feet, skidded out of his bedroom, and ran downstairs, tearing through the house into the little hallway leading to Daddy’s living room. Then, he ran up Daddy’s stairs two at a time and barged into his bedroom without even knocking. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Teddy shouted, scrambling across the bed and shaking him by the shoulder. Daddy jolted awake and sat up halfway, squinting blearily at Teddy through the early morning light.

“Teddy, what is it? Are you alright?” Daddy asked, his voice still scratchy with sleep and his hair sticking up messily. 

“Daddy! Sirius is back!” 

“What?” Daddy asked. 

“He’s home! He’s here! He’s outside! I saw him!” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, come on! We have to get him! It’s cold out, and it’s Christmas!” 

Daddy sat up, flung the covers aside, and got out of bed. He didn’t look sleepy anymore. 

“Do you believe me?” Teddy asked.

“Of course I do,” Daddy said, and kissed him on the head. He pulled on his bathrobe, stepped into his slippers, and followed Teddy down the stairs into the front entryway. Then, he took Teddy’s hand, opened the door, and stepped outside into the cold, dark Christmas morning. 

“Hi,” a voice said through the near darkness. “Happy Christmas.” 

*********************

Voices shouted in Sirius’s earpiece as he stared at the letter in his hands. 

Come home.

“Say something, Black! Get back to the fucking script! We are still live!”  

Sirius’s mind returned to the moment with a jolt. They were still live.  

Shit. 

He put the letter back into the letterbox, then looked down at Harry, who was still sitting on his lap. 

“Thanks for all your help tonight, Harry,” Sirius said, before turning back to the camera with a bright smile. “And thank you, Maggie, Michael, Gemma, and everyone else who’s written to me. I always love to hear from you.” 

Sirius could practically feel the collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room as he finally got back to the script. Harry hugged Sirius, just like they’d practiced in rehearsal, before hopping off his lap and running offstage into James and Lily’s waiting arms. 

Now, Sirius was alone on the stage again with just one minute of airtime left. He was so close to the end. The rest of the script floated through his mind: Give one more plug for his charity and Marlene’s new film, wish everyone a Happy Christmas, and say goodnight to the audience. 

It was easy. So easy. He could do it in his sleep. The stage lights were hot and blinding, but all Sirius had to do was smile and stick to the script. 

But then, Sirius looked up and caught James’s eye, and a silent understanding passed between them. So Sirius took a deep breath, looked right into the camera, and began to speak. 

“For 10 incredible years, you have welcomed me into your homes. Every time I baked something on Sirius Eats, I hoped that anyone watching would be inspired to try something new, make something delicious from scratch, and create memories with families and friends. It’s been an honor and a privilege to share that experience with you every week. But now, it’s time for me to step into the next chapter in my life and start creating family memories of my own. That’s why tonight, I’m signing off from Sirius Eats for the last time. Thank you all for watching and sticking with me for all these years. It’s been a hell of a ride. I hope you’ll always keep baking and creating magic, right in your very own kitchens. Happy Christmas, everyone. Thanks for spending one more night with me. And my love, my darling, if you’re watching, I’ll be home soon. Goodnight.” 

The studio was silent for three long seconds as the cameras cut to black and the credits started to roll. 

“We’re clear!” the director shouted.

And then came the tumult. Cheering and applause hit Sirius like a tsunami. A torrent of people rushed the stage, hugging him, shaking his hands, clapping him on the back. James and Lily, Harry, Robin, Edna, camera operators, the sound crew, the lighting crew, everywhere he looked, people were all around him, and he could barely make out who was who. 

“Well done, Sirius!” 

“Congratulations, mate!” 

“Ten years, what a run!” 

“It’s about time!” 

Until one voice broke through the din.

“What the hell is going on?” 

A red-faced Crouch was marching up to him, followed by a knot of flustered-looking executives and Dearborn bringing up the rear. Sirius felt Lily take his hand, while James and the crew moved closer to him, as though closing ranks. 

“I realized you were right, Barty,” Sirius said. “I needed to hurry up and make a choice. So I made one. Thank you for helping me.” 

Sirius started to step off the stage, but Crouch stepped in front of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’m going back to the gay hotel,” Sirius said. “I plan to have a very gay life there. I also plan to write very gay books and do very gay things with my very gay boyfriend. Would you like a postcard when I arrive?” 

“You still have eight days left on your contract, Mr. Black,” Crouch said. “You can’t go anywhere.” 

“I think you’ll find that I can, actually,” Sirius replied. “You see, I had my own lawyer review the contracts, and there are no dates involved. There are only show commitments that happen to coincide with the end of the calendar year. And I have fulfilled them.” 

“And how, exactly, do you think you’ll write cookbooks without the backing of this network? We own your name, don’t forget,” Crouch spat. 

“Sadly, Mr. Crouch, you’re wrong about that, too,” Sirius replied. “According to my lawyer, you own the name of the television show. But you never owned my name. And you never owned me, either, even though you made a pretty damn good show of it.” 

Crouch took another step toward him so they were face to face on the soundstage. 

“You think you can just walk away?” he hissed, speaking so quietly that only Sirius could hear him. “You think you can change your whole image and that the public will just swallow whatever you give them? You will be nothing without this network behind you.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nothing,’ Mr. Crouch,” Sirius replied. “But I’d rather be nothing than something I’m not.” 

And with that, Sirius walked past Crouch and stepped off the stage. 

“Can I still be your manager?” Dearborn called after him. 

“No!” 

It was still dark when Sirius pulled up to Remus’s cottage, the wheels of his Land Rover crunching slowly over the gravel drive. Padfoot had slept most of the ride, the lazy thing, but Sirius supposed he couldn’t blame him. They had driven straight through the night.

Now, though, Padfoot was wide awake, and apparently, knew exactly where they were, despite the fact that the sun hadn’t even risen yet. He sat up in the passenger seat, with his paws on the edge of the door under the window, his nose pressed to the glass, and his tail wagging madly. 

Padfoot bounded out of the car and barked his excitement when they finally stepped outside.

“Shh!” Sirius said, as Padfoot ran in happy circles around him. Sirius looked up at the stone cottages, which were still dark and shadowy in the early morning moonlight, and for the first time since he left London, he felt nervous. What if Remus had changed his mind? What if Sirius missed his chance? Still, he had to try. So, on shaking legs, Sirius walked around the cottages to Remus’s front porch. 

Sirius had spent the past six hours in the car imagining this moment, practicing exactly what he was going to say. He was very good at memorizing scripts, after all, and even better at being charming and speaking off the cuff. He’d spent the past 10 years doing exactly that, making the camera fall in love with him, and talking intimately to tens of thousands of people who welcomed him into their living rooms and felt like he was their friend. 

But every word that Sirius had so carefully rehearsed flew from his mind as soon as Remus Lupin opened his front door, wearing a tartan bathrobe and slippers, with soft, pillow-mussed curls that shone under the glowing light of the porch lamp, and a little boy in flannel pyjamas holding his hand. 

“Hi,” Sirius said, his throat dry and his heart pounding. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Sirius!” Teddy cried, dropping Remus’s hand and pushing past him. He ran across the porch, jumped down the stairs, and flew down the garden path into Sirius’s open arms. 

“Teddy!” Sirius breathed. He scooped Teddy into a hug and lifted him into the air, closing his eyes as he held him close.

“I knew you’d come back!” Teddy said, hugging him tightly around the neck. “I knew it!” 

 “I wanted to come back sooner! I’m sorry I had to leave!” 

“It’s OK! You can stay forever, now!” 

At Teddy’s words, Sirius opened his eyes and looked at Remus, who was watching them from the doorway with his mouth slightly open and an unreadable expression on his face. He’d barely moved or even blinked. 

“That’s up to Daddy,” Sirius said, putting Teddy down and walking to the edge of the porch, looking up at Remus with his heart racing. “But if he wants me to stay, I will. I’ll never leave him again.” 

Remus walked slowly toward them, then paused at the top of the stairs. He looked down at Sirius, then reached out, touching his shaking fingertips to Sirius’s cheek. 

“You’re real, then? You’re really here?” Remus said softly. “You’re not just made of stardust and my imagination?” 

“No, my love, I’m real,” Sirius said, closing his hand over Remus’s and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Please, forgive me, Remus. I was so stupid to ever leave you.”

“Are you really home?” Remus asked, and Sirius’s heart soared at that word from Remus’s lips. Home.

“Yes, love, if you’ll still have me. If you still want me.” 

“Sirius, I love you. I told you that already.” Remus said, gripping Sirius’s hand and looking straight into his eyes. “And I want you here with me. With us. I told you that, too. But I need to know that you trust me. Do you believe me when I say that you’re worth it to me? Even if things get hard sometimes?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you trust me to know what I can handle?”

“Yes.” 

“And to decide that for myself?” 

“Yes, Remus. I’m sorry. I know I took that choice away from you, and I’ll never do it again. I do trust you. I love you.” 

“Are we going to be a secret?” Remus asked, his voice cracking a little. 

“No, no more secrets,” Sirius promised. “I want to love you in front of the world.” 

Sirius was ready to drop to his knees, to beg, to plead, but Remus only smiled, a little laugh escaping his beautiful lips. 

“That might get us arrested,” Remus whispered, and Sirius couldn’t stand spending another second not kissing him. He wrapped his arms around Remus’s waist as he climbed the stairs and lifted him off his feet into a kiss that sent them both stumbling backwards. Remus grabbed the banister to steady them with another laugh, then slung his arms around Sirius’s neck and kissed him back, and it was bliss. Pure, perfect bliss, their bodies melting together, relieved to finally be reunited. Remus’s lips, hands, body, and heartbeat felt like home, and Sirius knew he’d never let him go ever, ever again. 

“Father Christmas came!” Teddy cried. “And he brought Sirius back!” 

“Oui. I can see that,” a French-accented voice said next to them, and Sirius pulled away from their kiss to see Tonks and Fleur shivering in the doorway, their arms wrapped around each other in the cold. 

“How was the sleigh ride from London, Sirius?” Tonks asked with a wry smile.

Sirius turned back to Remus and kissed him once more before answering.

“Not nearly fast enough,” he replied. 

At first, Sirius offered to retreat to Rosehip Cottage to let the family have their Christmas morning together in peace. But everyone insisted that he stay. In fact, Fleur was rather threatening about it. 

“Don’t you dare even think about leaving them now,” she hissed in his ear, digging her long, manicured fingernails into his wrist while Remus lit a fire in the hearth. 

Soon, they all settled around the Christmas tree with mugs of hot chocolate. Tonks sat on the floor and handed out presents, while Remus held Sirius’s hand and kept looking at him as though he still couldn’t believe he was really here. 

Father Christmas brought Teddy a new set of paints and canvases, his very first bicycle and helmet, books, clothes, toys, lots of sweets, and his very own set of kid-friendly knives with extra-grippy handles. 

“You still have to be careful with them,” Remus warned.

“I will!” Teddy cried happily. “What can I cut first?” 

“Do you want to help me make Christmas supper?” Remus asked. 

“Yes!” Teddy replied, then Sirius tipped his head onto Remus’s shoulder.

“Can I help, too?” he asked. 

“I suppose,” Remus teased, and Sirius kissed him again. He couldn’t help it. 

It felt wonderful to be back in the kitchen with Remus—to be back anywhere with Remus—and Sirius kept sneaking kisses and stealing glances at him all afternoon as they chopped, basted, roasted, and candied. Teddy wandered in and out, sometimes helping, and sometimes playing with his new toys, before finally disappearing outside to try out his bicycle with his mums. 

Christmas supper was a relaxed affair, despite Remus’s world-class menu of roasted turkey with plum chutney, rosemary-garlic potatoes, candied carrots with maple-praline pecans, and a chocolate-cherry torte with chantilly cream. After, when they were all pleasantly full, they took a walk through the woods, where Tonks and Teddy searched for signs of fairies and sprites among the rocks and twigs. The whole day was beautiful and magical, and too soon, the sun began to set. 

“Normally, we go down to the pub in the village on Christmas night,” Tonks told Sirius later, as they all warmed up by the fire after their hike with mugs of mulled wine and hot apple cider for Teddy. “Alfie and Isla usually end up getting pissed and doing a mummer’s play where he’s St. George and she’s the dragon. But she’s pregnant and they’re not going. So we’ll stay home, too.” 

“No!” Teddy cried, but he was already yawning. 

“Plus, someone slept on the floor last night instead of his bed,” Tonks continued, kissing Teddy’s cheek, “and is extra tired right now.” 

“I had to!” Teddy insisted. 

“And,” Tonks added, looking at Sirius and Remus, “I think you two have some catching up to do.” 

Later, after Sirius and Remus had “caught up” (twice), they lay naked under the blankets in Remus’s bed, holding each other, touching reverently across each other’s skin, kissing and talking and kissing some more. Remus’s body was beautiful, his long legs, his broad shoulders, his strong hands, his perfect, round arse, his soft lips, and Sirius ran his fingertips over every inch of him, as though to prove to himself that he was real.

“Do you have to go back to London soon?” Remus asked quietly as Sirius closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Remus’s chest. 

“Hmm?” Sirius hummed, lost in Remus’s skin, his scent, the soft hair on his chest. 

“For work? Or did you decide not to renew your contract?” Remus asked. 

Sirius propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Remus in disbelief. 

“Remus,” Sirius said. “Didn’t you watch the show last night?” 

“No,” Remus replied with an apologetic wince. “Sorry.” 

“How did Tonks not see anything about it on TikTok?” 

“Well, it’s Christmas! And we were really busy today,” Remus said, his eyes wide and sweet, and Sirius was so fucking in love with him. Remus didn’t care about Sirius’s celebrity, and he never had. He only cared about him.

“Remember?” Remus continued when Sirius didn’t answer. “I’ll recap it for you. A really famous TV chef unexpectedly dropped in on me while I was sleeping and declared his unending love. So that took up a sizable chunk of the morning. Then it was time for presents, then cooking, then lunch, and hiking. We put Teddy to bed and Fleur read you the riot act about never leaving again.”

“Well deserved,” Sirius muttered with a shiver, remembering her threats to “snap whatever hand you hold a whisk with if you break my boys’ hearts.” 

“And then I spent a couple hours shagging your brains out,” Remus finished. “So yeah…really busy day.” 

Sirius stared at him for half a second, then burst out laughing and kissed him. 

“God, I love you,” Sirius said, then kissed him again. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Remus, I quit the show last night. On the air.” 

“WHAT?!” Remus cried, sitting up. 

“Yeah.”

“I… what?!” Remus said again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I thought you knew!” Sirius said. “I showed up this morning, and you didn’t even really question it.” 

But Remus was muttering to himself with his eyes closed, shaking his head and running his hand over his face.

“That’s because I wished on a fucking star after Teddy said the thing about Father Christmas bringing you home…” he said, before looking up at Sirius again in disbelief. “Fuck! Jesus Christ, Sirius! You really quit? During the show?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius laughed, in a bit of disbelief himself. 

Sirius told Remus everything that happened, from Dearborn’s frustration to Crouch’s public reprimand to Lovegood getting sacked, before showing him a clip of the last segment of the show. It was posted on YouTube with the title, “Black’s Classy Exit.” 

“Wait! How did you get Teddy’s letter?” Remus said, pausing the video halfway through. “He sent it before Christmas. By post. Before you even arrived.” 

“I have no idea,” Sirius said. “I asked everyone. James, Lily, Pandora, Robin, the director, the head of the mailroom, the whole crew. No one has any clue how it got there.” 

“Wow,” Remus whispered. “Is that why you decided to come back? His letter?”

“Partly. I’d been leaning in that direction,” Sirius said. “I asked my brother to have a look at my contracts just to make sure there weren’t any loopholes that could fuck me over if I walked away. Then Teddy’s letter appeared, as though by magic, asking me to come home. And I knew what to do. Right then.” 

“Was it hard? Quitting on the air? In front of everyone?” Remus asked. 

“No,” Sirius replied, shaking his head and putting a hand to Remus’s cheek. “It was easy. The easiest thing I’ve ever done.”  

“Hey! That’s my line,” Remus laughed. 

“Apparently, the man I love is pretty clever,” Sirius said. 

They watched the rest of the clip, and for the first time, maybe ever, Sirius didn’t cringe at the image of himself on the screen. He didn’t see someone acting or pretending. Instead, he saw someone who was happy and at peace. 

“And my love, my darling, if you’re watching,” the Sirius on the screen said, “I’ll be home soon. Goodnight.” 

The clip ended, and there was a silence between them for a moment. Then, Remus gently took the phone out of Sirius’s hand, put it face down on the bedside table, and crawled on top of him. Sirius’s legs slid open, and Remus’s body fit perfectly between them, slotting together like two halves of a whole. 

“Welcome home,” Remus whispered against Sirius’s lips. Then, he laced their fingers together, closed his eyes, and sank into another kiss. 

October, The following year

Remus’s feet crunched over the gravel road as he walked through the inn’s grounds, past apple trees heavy with fruit, past the pumpkin patch dotted with fat orange pumpkins and curling green vines.

Although he loved the cozy bustle of the inn and its guests, there was something magical about these quiet, early mornings that cleansed Remus’s soul and grounded him, readying him for the day. 

Readying them for the day.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sirius asked in a hushed voice, as he looked over the rolling hills that were a riot of fiery reds, oranges, and golds, bright and glowing in the early morning sunlight. “I’ll never get tired of it.” 

“Neither will I,” Remus agreed. 

Sirius pulled him into a kiss in the chicken coop, then another in front of the inn, then another in the kitchen while Remus poured them coffee. 

“Morning boss!” Alfie said, walking into the kitchen with a heavy box of apples that he dropped onto the metal counter with a thud. 

“Morning,” Remus said. 

Then Alfie looked at Sirius. 

“Stubby,” Alfie nodded. 

“Alfie,” Sirius nodded back, then looked at him expectantly. “Well? Pictures, please?” 

“Ahh, right!” Alfie said. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened his camera roll as Sirius and Remus moved closer to him. 

“Lotty hit a major developmental milestone this weekend,” Alfie said, scrolling through dozens of photos of a beautiful, black-haired baby girl. “See?” 

“Er,” Remus said, glancing sideways at Sirius. “Not really.” 

Alfie sighed and zoomed in on Lotty’s hand. 

“She’s grasping a rattle! See?” 

“Oh, wow!” Sirius said. “I see! Look at her, the clever thing.” 

Alfie kept swiping through pictures. 

“Now she’s grasping a spoon. And a sock. And Isla’s hair. And the cat.” 

“How many more ‘grasping’ pictures are there?” Remus asked, looking at the clock as Alfie kept swiping. 

“Probably around 30,” he replied, without stopping, so Remus reached into Alfie’s back pocket and retrieved the breakfast basket orders himself.

“Wow, what is that?” Sirius exclaimed a few minutes later. 

“Oh, that’s Lotty’s new hat! Isla just finished it,” Alfie said. 

“It’s really…big,” Sirius said. Remus peaked over his shoulder and gasped. Lotty was wearing an enormous knitted hat in the shape of a large, striped tube that curved off her head and stretched down her back. It was nearly the length of her entire body.

“What is it?” Remus asked. Sirius elbowed him and gave him a look that said, Be nice!

“It’s a caterpillar!” Alfie said. “It’s true to scale.”

“What scale?” Remus asked. 

“The scale of Lotty,” Alfie said, as though this was obvious. “Like Lotty herself, the hat is in its pupa stage.” 

“Eew,” Remus muttered, and Sirius elbowed him again. 

“And when Lotty gets older, Isla will add wings,” Alfie continued, then spread his arms out wide. “They will transform together into beautiful butterflies.” 

“Lotty and the hat?” Remus clarified. 

“Yes.” 

“Right.” 

“What’s the hat’s name?” Sirius asked.

“Right now we’re just calling it pupa,” Alfie said. 

“Gross,” Remus whispered.

“We figured Lotty should name it herself when she’s old enough to talk.” 

“That,” Sirius said, “is a very respectful plan.” 

“Thanks, Stubby,” Alfie said, then slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked down at the box of fruit he’d brought in from the orchard. “Well! These apples won’t core themselves, will they?” 

And they all got back to work, assembling breakfast baskets, greeting guests, and making apple tarts, apple butter, apple crisp, baked apples, and apple chutney, along with all their usual staples. Before long, it was time to call it a day. 

Sirius and Remus arrived home to find Teddy sitting on the kitchen floor with Fleur and Tonks, scooping seeds out of three, huge hollowed-out pumpkins and carving faces on them. 

“Daddy! Sirius!” Teddy said. “Look at mine! Isn’t it scary?” 

“Wow, that’s terrifying!” Sirius said, kneeling on the floor to kiss the top of Teddy’s head and take a better look at his pumpkin, which had a big, gaping mouth filled with sharp teeth. “How did you come up with something so frightening?” 

“I just dreamed it while I was awake!” Teddy said, and Sirius nodded in understanding. 

“I love it when that happens,” Sirius said. “And how was school? How did you do on your spelling exam?” 

“I got full marks!” Teddy said. 

“Amazing!” Remus replied. 

“Oh, Sirius,” Tonks said in a singsong voice with a coy little smile. “A heavy box came for you! All the way from London!” 

Sirius and Remus looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“They’re here!” Remus said, and sure enough, a box with a London postmark was waiting for Sirius on the kitchen table. 

“I can’t open it,” Sirius said, and Remus grasped his wrists. 

“Yes, you can.”

“My hands are shaking,” Sirius said with a nervous laugh as he ripped open the box and pulled out the packing paper inside, while Teddy, Fleur, and Tonks gathered around them. 

Sirius looked down and gasped, then wrapped an arm around Remus’s waist and pulled him close.

“Oh my god. It’s real,” Sirius whispered, wiping away a stray tear. “It’s really real.” 

He reached into the box and carefully lifted out a copy of his very first book. It was titled, “Dear Mr. Black: Stories of Heartbreak, Healing, and Home, from My Table to Yours.” 

He opened the cover and Remus laughed happily at the picture of Sirius on the inside of the dust jacket. He was wearing the knitted hippogryph hat from Isla, along with his leather jacket, of course. 

“Sirius Black is a world-renowned pastry chef and former host of the award-winning television series, Sirius Eats. He lives in Northumberland with his beloved family. His hat’s name is Buckbeak, and it’s a Capricorn.” 

“This calls for champagne!” Fleur said, kissing Sirius on the cheek and heading to the refrigerator. 

“It’s beautiful! Congratulations!” Tonks said, following Fleur to the cabinets to pull out champagne flutes. “I’ll text Lily and tell them to come this weekend. We can have a party!”

Remus could barely speak. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he said finally, looking into Sirius’s shining eyes. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Sirius replied, and kissed him. It was salty with tears, but sweet with love. 

“I know I’ve read every word already,” Remus laughed, running his hand over the book, his heart swelling with pride. “But I can’t wait to read it again.” 

“Well,” Sirius said quietly, “you haven’t actually read every word.”

He turned the page to the dedication, and Remus pressed a hand to his heart. 

For Shirley, who taught me about food.

For James, who taught me about friendship. 

And for Remus, who taught me about love. I hope you’ll always save a place for me at the table, my darling.