Moonchaser Microfic

James takes a deep breath and says on the exhale, “It’s part of the reason I love being on my balcony.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” James nods, “Being outside and able to see the sky is healing to me.” 

Remus hums, “It helps with my joint pain. What's the other reasons?” 

James contemplates their honesty, contemplates telling him the next reason, him, or if they should play around it and start talking about their guitar. Eventually, they settle on, “You’re not getting that information out of me that easy. You’ll have to work for it.” Remus opens his mouth to say something and James tries not to be phased at the breath against their face, which becomes easy when their phone goes off. 

With a cough, James is quick to excuse themself and push up from the couch, leaving Remus. They venture into the kitchen and find their phone on the counter, swearing under their breath when they read the caller ID. 

“What’s wrong Pads?” James asks, keeping their voice low so as to not disrupt Remus as they answer. 

“I just got back to the- wait, why are you out of breath?” 

“What? I’m not out of breath.” 

Sirius cackles, “You are! What were you doing Prongsie? Did I interrupt a private moment?” 

James sends a glance to Remus, only to find him lounging against their couch, head tilted back so he can watch them, his expression a mix between concern and amusement. Then they turn away and go to start putting dinner away, swallowing, “No, whatever you think was going on is wrong. Is something wrong? Did everything go alright tonight?” They reach up and put their oregano next to the rosemary on the spice shelf, closing it just after. 

Sirius is quiet for a moment before he hums, “Yeah, things went… well, I guess. We argued a bit, but we both seemed okay with doing it again so, maybe?” 

“That’s wonderful, Pads!” James cheers, flushing at Remus’ chuckle floating in from the living room, “It makes sense you would argue, it sounds like you both have pretty strong personalities and it’s been a long time after being pitted against each other. It’s a good start though.” 

“Yeah- yeah, you’re right. I just got back to my flat and figured I’d let you know.”

“Thank you. Get some sleep, I’m sure it’s been a tiring night.” 

Sirius hums, “Yeah. Have fun with whatever you were doing before I called, and you’ll tell me eventually.”

“Shut up.” And with that, James hangs up and puts their phone back down. They head back into the living room and settle next to Remus, not as close as before but still a bit too close to be normal, “Sorry about that.” 

“Everything alright?” 

James nods, “Yeah, my best mate was meeting someone he hasn’t talked to in a long time and was nervous. He was just calling to fill me in and let me know he didn’t die.” 

“Good to know your friends are loyal like that. It’s telling of a person’s nature.” Remus hums, “And I assume he clocked how flustered you seem.” His lips stretch out into a small grin, making James’ heart do a backflip. 

They clear their throat, “What are you talking about?” 

“Come on, James.” He hums, leaning closer to them, “Don’t be like that.” 

“You’ve had far too much wine, Remus.” 

“Perhaps.” He grins, “I don’t think you mind it, though.” 

James bites at their lips, pulling a bit of the skin off, “What are you doing to me, Remus?” 

“Nothing you don’t want me to, James.” Then, like clockwork, Remus’ phone goes off. Then again. Then again. Finally Remus pulls away just a bit to check his phone and swears. He licks his lips and looks to James, “I hate to cut this short, I really do, but my friend needs me right now.” 

James swallows and forces away their whiplash reaction to the change of tone. They nod and stand up, helping Remus stand and bringing him to the door, “Do what you need to do.”

“Thank you, Remus. Your chicken and mushrooms were cooked to perfection if I do say so myself.” They grin, muttering a thank you as they grab the stem of their wine glass from him, “The casserole dish is what I do in lieu of having a chafing dish. I grew up cooking with my parents and went to culinary school after high school, thought I wanted to become a world renowned chef or something.” 

“I’m a little intimidated by the fact that I just made a meal with a culinary school graduate, assuming you did graduate.” 

James shakes their head, “Your food really was well done, and no I didn’t graduate.” 

“Why did you change your mind?” 

“I realised that I couldn’t handle the environment of a kitchen, it was too overwhelming and physically taxing. So I changed my mind, got a Master’s in Social Work, and here I am.” They hum, “What about you, where did you learn to cook?” 

“My ma died when I was young and my dad didn’t love cooking, so I learned how to cook for the two of us on days he didn’t want to. Taught me a good thing or two about living on my own when I was ready.” 

“No child should have to live like that.” 

Remus shrugs, “It doesn’t matter much, I’ve moved on.” 

“Good.” 

He nods, “And growing up like that, you either learn to cook or you're screwed for the rest of your life in a kitchen, as it turns out my best friend is.” 

“I’ll cheers to that, mine isn’t allowed in my kitchen anymore.” James grins, reaching out their glass. Remus clinks it with his and they drink. 

Once Remus has pulled the glass from his slightly burgundy stained lips, he hums and looks around, “I assumed you would have more plants in here than you do,” Then he adds, “Don’t get me wrong, you have a mighty collection, but I figured there would be more.” 

James laughs, “Most of them are in my room, it gets better lighting. These are all ones that need less sun.” 

“Except for the Iris.” Remus gestures at the beautiful white iris bundle standing tall in a vase at the center of the coffee table. 

They grin at it, “Irises are one of my favourites and I really liked what you said about white flowers, so when Lily told me they got in a new shipment of Irises, which she always does, I was quick to snatch a couple from her.” James reaches forward and grabs the vase, bringing it to settle between the two of them. 

“Good to know I changed your mind about white flowers.”

“You didn’t change my mind, per se, but you did offer me a new perspective. It’s not like I ever hated them, but I’ve always been the type of person to enjoy bolder colours, if you couldn’t tell, so I never reached for them. But I think having a white flower or two around will remind me of the good when it gets rough.” 

Remus reaches out and gently traces one of the lower petals of the flower nearest to him, “I hate when people forget the simple things that can help like that, or forget that nature is so intrinsically interwoven with human nature that it’s healing.” 

Which is why the knocking on their door, just barely audible over their music, pulls James out of their trance of dancing and stirring and into a panicked frenzy that it might be Sirius. 

Then comes more knocks, reminding James that Sirius very much so has his own keys to James’ flat. 

So as soon as they process the second round of knocking, they set their spoon into its holder and turn the knob to let their sauce simmer and head to their door. 

And what James really least expects is for Remus to be the one standing outside their door. The couple next door? Never, in the years they’ve been living next to each other, neither of them have ever gone out of their way to interact with James. The lady from three doors down? Possibly, her cat has a tendency of ending up on James’ balcony. The little boy from the end of the hallway walking faster than his mum and wanting to get candy from James? Almost always. But Remus? 

It throws James for a loop only momentarily as they process the man standing at their door since they either interact on their balconies or out in the world. Never has it been initiated at either of their doors. But they push that away and smile at him, “Remus? To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Remus rolls his eyes, “I’ve run out of oregano, and I figured that if anyone had some, it would be you. Do you happen to have some oregano you can lend me?” 

Their smile widens to a grin as they lean against the doorframe and lean marginally into his space, “Only if you tell me what you’re cooking.” 

Once more, he rolls his eyes with a fond smile, “Garlic Parmesan Mushroom Chicken. I only need a teaspoon or so.”

“Oh, and do you have a sauce in mind for this delicious meal?” 

“I figured some white sauce would work well, do you have a suggestion?”

James hums and pushes off the doorframe, moving to the side and making a dramatic gesture into their flat, “I do, come on in, so long as you don’t have chicken going right now.” 

“No, I haven’t started making it yet.” Remus passes through the doorway, only taking a moment to look around James’ flat before they shut the door and guide him into the kitchen, “Your home is very you.” 

“You make it sound like a bad thing.” 

“Definitely not.” He hums, turning a gentle gaze to James’ and resting his elbows on the countertop. James pushes down the fire that licks at their spine and gestures to their own cooking with a flourish, “I am currently whipping up some fettuccine I was craving but wasn’t sure what to put with it. What say you bring your meal plans over here and we can make some dinner together.” 

“Wouldn’t that leave the noodles overdone.” 

“Not if you know the way of the noodle, my dear neighbor.” James points at him, then saunters their way to a cabinet and brandishes a bottle of wine, “I also have this if you so please.” 

“Oh the wine might just convince me.” Remus teases, “If you have space for me, I would love to make some food with you.” 

“Then go grab your things, I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can just walk in when you’re ready.” 

“You’re too trusting.” Remus says, but he stands up and starts heading out of the flat anyways. James doesn’t dignify his words with a response before the door closes behind Remus. They only take a moment to calm their racing heart down before going to add some more heavy cream to the sauce and stir the noodles.

Remus pushes the door to James’ flat open just as the noodles are finishing up and spreads out his meal prep from the bags he brought in on the free counter space, moving to wash the chicken once he has grabbed some of James’ cutting boards and knives. Once he’s done with that, and has moved to prepping the chicken and mixing the seasoning, James pulls the pot of noodles off the stove and drains them, putting some of the water into the sauce. They get to work on pulling out their ceramic casserole dish and some foil to put the noodles in to keep them warm. 

“What can I help you with?” They ask once done with their task. 

Remus gestures to the bag of mushrooms, “Start prepping those, yeah?” 

“Any particular way?”

“However you want to prep your mushrooms. I need to get an onion chopped as well.” 

“Well I can do those.” James smiles, going to wash the mushrooms and chop them up while Remus seasons the chicken and goes to fetch and prep a pan for the meat. 

The two of them dance around each other in the kitchen wonderfully, making small comments and listening to the music James starts up once more. It’s a nice, easy night, and James pulls the foil from the noodles, some dishes, cutlery, and glasses down to prep as Remus finishes up cooking the chicken. They mix the noodles, mushrooms, and sauce into the casserole dish and James gives it one final mix while Remus pops the cork on the wine and pours them both generous glasses. 

“I can’t imagine you being mean or harsh.” James shakes their head 

“I am bad at interacting with students and people younger than me and I’m rather… blunt about everything and, being the assistant to an English professor, I’ve been known to be harsh on grading and critical of work because that’s how I prefer my work to be viewed. I tend to forget that other people aren’t as open to that.” 

“Mm, I could see that.” They smile, gently, as the dragonfly ventures onto their finger and settles there. They slowly lean forward to the edge of the pond where a small lily pad is settled and let it off their hand onto it. Then they turn to Remus, “Want to walk around with me?” 

“If you help me stand up.” He nods, setting his cane up and outstretching his free hand for James to take. James helps pull him to a stand and lets go of his hand before they can think anything more of it, guiding him down a pathway they tend to meander down when they visit the park. 

“What’s blooming here?” Remus asks, gesturing to the stout plants that are just starting to get the smallest semblance of buds surrounding them. 

James hums, “Sage. It took me forever to figure out, and I only really did when I took my parents on a walk down here while it was in full bloom. It’s one of the plants my dad is allergic to, so his allergies were going crazy.” They laugh gently at the memory. 

“It’s admirable how fondly you talk of your parents.” 

“They’re admirable to be fond of.” They smile, running a hand over one of the branches of sage before pushing forward. 

“Tell me more about them?” 

And James does. They lead Remus along the entire trail that brings them around the edge of the pond and ends near the entrance of the park, then back to their building and the entire time they regale Remus with tales of their parents growing up. On occasion Remus gives his own anecdotes about his family when on of James’ stories strike a cord--James gathers he doesn’t have the best family life and doesn’t push it--but he mostly elects to watch them fondly as they gesticulate and laugh and talk, though they get so lost in their memories and joy they hardly notice the implications of such a look. 

There’s the sound of footsteps softly approaching in the grass, making James turn their head just enough to see the approaching person out of the corner of their eye. They only just note the beige colour palette of the person before his increasingly familiar voice informs James who it is, “Fancy finding you here.” 

At the words, James fully turns their head to him, “I would almost say you’re stalking me if this place weren’t just a couple blocks away from where we live.” 

Remus smiles and shakes his head, finally standing next to where James is sitting. He lightly taps their thigh with his cane, “Mind if I sit?” 

James shakes their head, “Be my guest.” Remus hums and James watches as he uses his cane to lower his gangly limbs to the ground until he’s seated in a seemingly comfortable position. They return their gaze to the pond, watching as a pond skater ripples through the water, skating around various lily pads. 

The two of them seem comfortable with the silence for a long time. The young duo to their right has long since wandered away, distracted by something else, but James thinks they can still hear the kids’ laughter. Then, Remus hums, “Pandora recommended this place when I moved here. One of my friends likes it here a lot, but I didn’t realise it was the same place until she brought us here together.” 

James huffs a laugh, “My mates and I found this place drunk as hell.” They watch passively as a dragonfly skitters towards one of the lotus flowers on a bundle of nearby lily pads and lands on the petals gently, “It was like a week after I moved and we thought it was reason for celebration but got bored of sitting inside so we went adventuring. It’s foggy, but I know at least one of us ended up in the water.” 

“What made you come back here after that?” 

“Drunk or not, I thought it was pretty and peaceful.” James shrugs with one shoulder, “And I’ve lived around this park for long enough that I’ve learned I really like the energy here.” 

“It’s nice.” James nods, finally turning to look at Remus once more, only to find him already gazing at them. They only get to register it before Remus is speaking again, watching them softly, “Do your friends see this side of you?” 

“Mm?”

“From what I’ve heard from the girls and you, it sounds like your friends are very outgoing and loud, which threw me because I’ve only really known you as someone more calm and- not quiet, I guess but… grounded. Have they seen this side of you?” 

James hums and watches Remus just as softly in return, thinking through his words, “I’ve known them for most of my life, two for my entire life, so I’m sure they know it’s there. It’s not that either way I am is explicitly my personality, it’s just that I don’t feel the need to be that bright and happy when I’m in the comfort of my own home with only myself or like you, my parent, or Lily, and I naturally pick up on the energy of my friends when I’m around them.” They shrug with one shoulder, “I’m sure my mates know it and have seen it on occasion, but they don’t see it often.” 

“Isn’t it interesting,” Remus starts, and the dragonfly that had rested on the lotus jumps off and gently flutters towards them, settling on James’ knee. Remus smiles at the sight and pushes on, “That there are so many facets to ourselves that we can be individually at one given time.” 

“I hadn’t expected you to get philosophical on me.” 

Remus huffs a laugh and the sound sends a thrill down James’ spine, “What can I say, I am a literary scholar at heart, and it tends to happen.” James smiles at him, and the words settle themselves as the end of the conversation naturally.

After spending three days avoiding the conversation, Sirius makes it a point to drag Peter out of the library one afternoon while they’re all supposed to be studying, insisting that the other two Marauders stay behind and continue their Potions essays. James glares at him as they walk away, but he can’t help but feel grateful. 

“What was that about?” Remus asks, and James’s stomach turns. Whether at being alone with Remus or finally having no excuse to avoid asking him on a date, he’s not sure. Either way, it’s not helping the jitteriness he feels. 

“No clue,” James lies. He can feel his face heating up, and for a moment he almost cries. He’s blushing. How embarrassing. 

Remus shrugs and turns back to his parchment, and for a moment, James does the same. It doesn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion, however, that if he doesn’t ask him now, he won’t do it at all. “Hey, Remus?”

The other boy looks up, and James nearly swoons at having Remus’s honey brown eyes on him. “You okay?” he asks, and James realizes he’s just been staring for about twenty seconds too long.

“Hogsmeade,” he blurts out. Oh Merlin. This isn’t going according to plan. There’s a jolt in his stomach, urging him to abort the mission. But he’s a Gryffindor, darn it, and he can do this. Remus tilts his head in confusion, and James thinks his heart skips a beat due to how adorable it is. “Us–well, you and me, that is–butterbeer together, maybe?”

“Erm…what?”

Right, of course. Nothing he’d said made any sense. James hangs his head and curses under his breath, then inhales deeply, before looking back at Remus, this time at the center of his forehead rather than his intoxicating eyes. 

“Would you want to get a butterbeer together in Hogsmeade?” he asks, just like he’d practiced with Sirius. “Just you and me.”

“Just you and me?” Remus asks, and James nods. “What about Sirius and Peter? Won’t they want to come?”

James’s heart sinks just a bit, but he forces himself to keep his spirits up. It wasn’t a no just…confusion. Maybe James hadn’t been clear enough. 

“A date,” he says, again spitting out words without thinking about them properly. “I–I’m asking you on a date. I don’t want Sirius and Peter to come, I want…I want to go on a date with you.”

Without his permission, his eyes wander back down to Remus’s, only to find the other boy looking back at him in wide-eyed shock. “You want to–to go on a date? With me?”

James shrugs, smiling shyly. “Yeah, I–well, I fancy you, so–”

“Yes,” Remus interrupts. James’s heart jumps. 

“Yes?” he asks, almost in disbelief. Actually, there’s no almost about it. He definitely doesn’t believe it. 

 But then, Remus says, “Yes,” again. He says yes and he’s smiling, and he’s blushing and–

“Your fans won’t be happy,” Remus rebuts. 

“Screw ‘em. If they can’t support me being open about the man who makes me happy, then I don’t particularly care for their support.”

Remus bites his lip, taking his time to consider this, before he offers another rebuttal. “Don’t you think you should wait until after the movie is out? Views will be down if you come out now.”

“Nah, scandals increase popularity,” James teases with a wink. “More people will stream it if they’re interested in my personal life. Bunch of little stalkers, they are.”

Quickly, while Remus is busy composing his next argument, James reaches for his phone and clicks ‘Post.’ 

Stupid. He’s been stupid. If there’s one lesson his father tried to instill in him his whole life, it was how dangerous he is. And he had listened. For ten years, he had listened. And then his friends–his brilliant, kind, marvellous friends–had come to him with a solution. With animal companions, Remus would be less alone on the full moons, less likely to injure himself.

He had been hesitant at first, but it only took a few successful runs to completely forget what his father had taught him. He had been stupid, and foolish. And now James is hurt and it’s his fault, his fault, his fault–

“Moony.”

His eyes are closed, but there is a hand on his cheek, warm and gentle and wiping away the tears that Remus hadn’t even realized he had cried. The bed dips next to him, and then the hand on his cheek slides into his hair and he’s being pulled forward, into a solid chest, and James is hugging him–one-armed but still warm, still soothing. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers into his hair. Remus doesn’t believe him. Of course it’s his fault, who else’s would it be. He keeps his face hidden in James’s chest, and the other boy doesn’t try to move him. “Do you remember anything?”

For a moment, Remus doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. And then he shakes his head. No. He doesn’t. 

James’s hand cards through his hair, his fingernails scratching gently at his scalp. Just like always, the feeling calms him, and soon, his breaths are deep and low and his eyes are dry. How James is so good at soothing him, Remus will never know. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” James repeats. “Padfoot got his foot stuck in a tree root. He kept pulling it and pulling it, but it wouldn’t budge and I was starting to worry that he was going to break a bone.” He pauses, as if to let Remus absorb what he’s told him. He still doesn’t see how James’s injuries aren’t his fault, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. “You were far…far enough that I thought I had time–time to get him out and shift back. But he was really stuck, and…It’s my fault. I should’ve shifted back sooner, but I panicked.”

Finally, Remus sits up, looking at James incredulously. “You shifted? You left your animagus form?”

“...Yeah,” James breathes. 

The flash of emotions that runs through Remus could be rage, or fear, or anxiety–or any combination of the three, really. Without thinking, he reaches behind him for his pillow and whacks James with it, making the other boy yelp. 

“You idiot,” Remus shouts, whacking James with the pillow again. “Years, we’ve been doing this! Years!” Again, he whacks him. “And you thought–Oh, I’ll just shift into a human with a transformed werewolf nearby. That’ll go great! What is wrong with you?” When Remus goes to hit him again, James catches the pillow with his good hand and yanks it free from his weak grip. 

“Yes, I know!” James exclaims. It’s only then that Remus realizes how his face is twisted–like he feels guilty. Well, that just won’t do. “I know it was stupid, I know I’m an idiot, I wasn’t thinking, I thought there was more time–”

Remus isn’t sure what makes him do it. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from all the fear and anger he feels, or maybe it’s the terrible look on James’s face. Maybe it’s something else entirely. Whatever the cause, Remus grabs James by the back of the neck and pulls him close, surging forward until their lips meet. 

There’s a split second where James freezes, and Remus thinks he’s made the biggest mistake of his life. But then James’s good hand comes up to slide into his hair, and he tilts his head for more room, and he kisses him back. It’s terrifying and exhilarating and beautiful all at once and Remus never wants it to end, never wants to face the conversation they’ll have after where James inevitably says, That was nice, but I’m just not interested in you like that. Sorry, Moons.

Except, when they separate, James’s guilty look has shifted into a dopey grin and his eyes are–for lack of a better word–sparkling. And what he says is not I’m just not interested. It’s, “Fucking finally.”

Despite his protests the previous day that he was feeling ‘just fine,’ Remus knew this was coming. It had started in the morning with a tickle in his throat, and by lights out, James’s stomach had been turning unpleasantly. 

A quick tempus charm tells him it’s only four in the morning, but getting enough sleep doesn’t matter much in the face of a sick boyfriend. Frowning, heart heavy to see James ill, Remus sits on the floor beside him, rubbing his back as his vomiting finally starts to cease. 

“I’ve got you, love,” he murmurs, pulling the boy away from the toilet and into his arms. His skin is burning up, shiny with sweat yet covered in gooseflesh. Remus conjures a glass of water and a cool, damp flannel, helping James drink some water before pressing the cloth to his skin. He shudders at the cool contact. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Casting a featherlight charm on him, Remus lifts James into his arms and carries him to his bed, laying him out and covering him with a thin sheet, before placing the flannel, charmed now to stay cool, over his forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll have some tea and broth for you next time you wake up, yeah?”

James nods, the movement jerky and slow. His eyes keep falling closed, but he struggles to open them again and again, just to stay looking at Remus. “Stay?”

“Of course, love,” Remus whispers, smiling reassuringly. There isn’t really room for the two of them in the dorm beds–not anymore. Not now that they’re 18 years old and both have surpassed 6 feet in height. Regardless, Remus climbs under the sheet and squeezes himself on the mattress, shoulder to shoulder with James, careful not to touch him too much so he doesn’t overheat, and grabs his hand, linking their fingers together. “I’ll be right here. Sleep.”

“Moony?”

“Yeah, Prongs?”

“I love you.”

James levels her with a look, “Obviously I’m going to have her teach me when she gets comfortable with it.” Lily laughs, bright and silvery, putting the pot aside and picking up some of her other starts when James hands her another pot.

“Hello you two,” A voice says from nearby, making both of them turn towards it. Remus, at some point, has come out of his flat and settled in his chair without either of them noticing. 

Lily grins at him, “Hello, Remus. How have you been?” 

“I’ve been alright,” he nods, “What about you?” 

“I’m great!” 

“Lovely, and,” he gestures to the set up the two of them have going on, “may I ask why you are planting…”

“Geraniums.” James adds. 

Remus nods, “Geraniums on James’ porch instead of in your store?” 

Lily grins, “Because they’re not for my store and I wanted to spend the day with James.” 

“What are you planting them for, them?” The man hums, standing and making his way to the edge of his balcony so he can watch them better.

“Fun.” She shrugs, “Our geraniums weren’t selling and I figure that they would make good gifts for friends while they’re still healthy enough to re-pot. So James is getting one, their parents are getting one, I’m keeping one, the likes.” 

“Would I be able to have one?” 

“Of course! If you want to pick a pot and a flower colour, go ahead.” 

Remus nods and peers further over the edge of his balcony onto James’ while they present him with the various different pots they and Lily have scrounged up, whether they already have flowers potted in them or not. He picks one they made several years ago and had Pandora repaint recently with a white and purple geranium in it. Standing with a gentle groan, they pick up the pot and walk it over to the edge of their balcony, handing it off to him. 

Remus smiles and thanks them, then goes to put the new potted flower on his table. Then he heads back over and leans once more against his railing, “How long have you two been out here working?” 

“Not too terribly long,” James smiles, grabbing the pot Lily just finished with and misting the flowers over and making sure the soil is sufficiently watered, “But it’s also a nice day so it hasn’t been bad. What were you coming out here for?” 

“A smoke break, actually.” Remus smiles, shaking his box of cigarettes. He pulls out his lighter and one of his cigarettes and James is enraptured as they watch him tuck it between his lips and light the end with ease. Lily bats at their ankle and grins at them when they finally turn back to her. James kicks her knee lightly in response. Lily huffs a laugh but moves on, the three of them talking lightly as they continue about their tasks before Remus heads back inside. 

“What?” James sighs upon noticing Lily’s knowing grin. 

Lily just hums, “Oh nothing. Nothing like you staring at his lips like a dying man staring at a glass of water.” 

Once more they kick at her knee, making her laugh again, “Shut up. You were way worse with Mary and Pandora.” 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, she hums, “So how long have you been flirting with your hot neighbor?” 

“You’re a lesbian.” 

“And he’s objectively hot, so what.” She shrugs, “Stop changing the subject.” 

James sighs, melting into their chair just a bit, “Since he moved in, sort of. We spend quite a bit of time talking when we both happen to be out here. Not necessarily flirting the whole time but, he’s hot so…”

“Well, that’s good to know. We were wondering how you seemed to know each other pretty well during the farmer’s market. I wish you the best of luck.”

“You keep sneezing, did you get sick?”

“Oh, no.” They shake their head, “It’s allergies.” 

“What’s triggering your allergies?” 

“Generally? Pollen, but in specific it's the jonquils they recently planted around the building.” 

“You’re allergic to jonquils?” 

They nod, “It’s more a higher allergy to the pollen from the narcissus family. I just need a couple days to get used to the new additions and when they finish with their main pollination phase. It’s actually really annoying having a higher intolerance for the daffodil family because they’re such beautiful flowers but they drive my nose insane.”

Remus huffs a laugh, “I’ll make a note to never plant daffodils or jonquils out here.” The words are said jokingly, but it makes James' heart do backflips. Yes, perhaps that two of them have been exchanging flowers, but the idea that Remus would go so out of his way to give James a flower that he would need to take into consideration their allergies implies the possibility of something more.  

“I would really appreciate it.” They sigh dramatically, “I think I cried the day my mum had to tear out her daffodils from the garden after we’d gotten an allergy test done for me.” Remus nods and the two of them are quiet for a long while before James hums, “Are you allergic to anything?” 

“Silver.” 

“Oh I’m sure that’s annoying.” 

“Plenty.” Remus breathes, a piece of his hair catching with the breath and bouncing just a bit, “My friend used to wear exclusively silver jewelry and had to replace all of it with hypoallergenic silver-coloured metals. There are still a couple things he couldn’t or didn’t want to replace so I have to watch out for those.” 

“Is it just silver?” 

“I’m slightly allergic to nickel as well, which is part of the reason my reaction to silver is much worse.” 

“It’s a good thing the girls all wear gold then.” 

“For sure.” Remus smiles. 

“If you ever need any allergy medication, I always bring Zyrtec around with me.” 

Remus hums, “I do as well, so I suppose the same goes for you.” 

A ping from James’ phone interrupts their conversation and they jump, “Shit.” 

“Everything alright?” 

“I forgot I was going out to a bar with my mates tonight.” 

“Oh, well. Have fun and stay safe.” 

“Which one of them is your ex, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

James smiles, “Lily. She and I dated all throughout high school but broke up shortly after we graduated.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” they shake their head, “I mean, it hurt us both and really messed with our relationship at the time, but it was for the best and I think we’re both happier than we would’ve been had we stayed together?” 

“Bad relationship?” 

“Not at all, just bad romantic chemistry. And she’s much better off with Mary and Pandora.” Remus nods and the two of them are quiet for a while before James asks, “How do you know them?” 

Remus is silent for a moment longer, but James doesn’t push. Eventually, he closes his book, “My father sent me away to a boarding school in France when I was younger, which is where I met Pandora and our other friends. We’ve just stuck together since then.” 

“Glad you were able to find people, Pandora is wonderful.” 

“She is.” Remus nods, and it seems like he’s done with the conversation for now, so James just looks down and goes back to strumming along on his instrument. Remus picks up his book from his lap again and opens it up once more. 

The two of them sit out there for a long while, the light of day fading to just the fairy lights James has strung up and the recent addition of a small, overhead reading lamp that Remus brought out a couple days ago, and that’s when Remus hums, “So are you the one that made Lily want to own a flower shop?” 

James smiles, “It was technically my parents. I like to go help them tend to the gardens and she would come with me and talk flower arrangements with my dad. It’s why she keeps the pink cloves in the displays.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” they nod, “They mean passion, affection, and love and gratitude and Lily really liked the meaning of it. It reminds her of my family and gardening with us.” 

“That’s sweet.” 

“It is, I was so shocked when I saw them in her display when she got the store opened up.” James smiles, watching Remus. At some point during their time out here, he had put on the sweater he brought out with him as the day cooled and the warm-toned lighting the two had set out does wonders for him. It practically sends his skin on fire, masking the scars littering his face with a golden hue that makes them stand out in a way that reminds James of kintsugi and making his hair look like it’s on fire on the edges. James nearly feels breathless. 

They swallow and allow a shiver to wrack their body, “I’m uhm- I’m going to head inside.” 

“Right,” Remus smiles with unhidden mirth, “Have a good night, James.”

“You too, Remus.” And with that, they duck back inside, guitar securely in their hands, taking a few calming breaths once they’re back in their bedroom.

Remus hums, dropping some of the clippings he’s cutting from the bush onto the table, “It was a move in gift from Pandora when I moved into my last place, something to ‘liven up the place’ and she helped me move it again when I came here.”  

“Why white roses?” 

Remus is silent for a moment, staring into the bush before he hums, “I love magnolias, they’re probably one of my favourite flowers, but they’re not… really possible to grow in a place like a flat, so Pandora went to the next white flower that I enjoy.” 

“Why did she stick with white flowers?” 

Once more, Remus doesn’t respond for a long while. He just continues chopping at the excess from the bush and puts it onto the table. Then, after a while, “I like white flowers and their meaning. Even though most white flowers have slightly different meanings, they all resemble purity.” James nods, but isn't sure of what else to say. Luckily, they don’t have to come up with anything, because Remus pushes on, “I’ve never seen myself as ‘pure’ so the fact that I can take care of something, or even touch something so beautiful that means purity without ruining it, makes it a bit easier to bare some of my… more negative thoughts.”

“Oh, I’m-” James licks their lips, “I’m sorry, Remus.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

They nod, and the two sit in a silence that isn’t comfortable nor uncomfortable, then, “Either way, I’m glad you have some way to cope with whatever happened.” 

“Me too.” There’s another snip as he closes his shears. Then, moments later, Remus pulls out a rose and takes a moment to de-thorn it before standing up and beckoning James over to the edge of their balcony. They comply, standing up and walking to meet him. 

Remus extends his arm, rose in hand, and gently drops it into James’ hand. James curls their fingers around the stem of it, bringing the flower towards themself. It’s not full, nowhere near actually, and in just a budding state but going to bloom wonderfully, James can tell. They finger along the closed petals of the bud, feeling the gentle softness of it under their fingertips. Quietly, they mutter, “Thank you.” 

“You struggle with your mental health.” Remus says. He doesn’t ask. James only gets to look back up at him with shock before he pushes on, “Let it serve as a reminder to you that you can take care of something and have it remain pure even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.” 

James swallows and nods, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Remus doesn’t let that linger, instead turning and gathering all the clippings and his small amount of gardening tools and putting them away, slipping back inside moments later. 

Remus had come home late from the library—dust in his hair, ink on his fingers—and the kitchen smelled like garlic and roasted tomatoes. James was at the stove, whistling off-key, wearing one of Remus’s old sweaters with the sleeves pushed up, oregano clinging to his knuckles.

Dinner was overcooked, the kitchen was a disaster, and the wine was cheap.

It was perfect.

Later, barefoot and full, Remus lingered in the kitchen while James scraped burnt sauce from a pan and swore in increasingly creative ways. There was oregano in a little ceramic pot by the window—half-wilted, stubborn, fragrant.

He opened the diary at the counter, page corners soft from use.

Oregano: domestic joy. Contentment. A love made of laughter and lived-in rooms.

James is oregano.

He’s the heartbeat of this house. The one who talks to the plants when he thinks I’m not listening. The one who sings with a wooden spoon as his microphone. Who leaves his socks everywhere and makes it impossible to be mad for longer than five seconds.

He’s the one who made a home out of a house. Who taught me that love can look like dishes in the sink and breakfast in bed and fighting over the last biscuit.

Remus paused as James turned, waving a sudsy hand. “Oi, flower boy, come dry these before I start using my wand.”

He smiled, slipping the pen back into the diary.

Some loves burn like stars. This one? It simmers. Low and warm and steady. A meal you never stop wanting. A spice in the air that smells like him.

Remus picked up a dish towel and nudged James with his hip. “Next time you cook, maybe don’t burn half the kitchen down.”

James grinned. “No promises.”

Remus pressed a kiss to his cheek, the scent of oregano clinging to his skin.