teacup full of memes

Remus hadn’t spoken for a while, arms wrapped around himself, his expression unreadable.

Sirius waited. He always waited with Remus. It used to frustrate him—the way Moony never just said what he felt. But now, he understood. It wasn’t silence. It was construction.

Finally, Remus spoke.

“I don’t think I know how to picture the future.”

Sirius looked at him. “You mean after Hogwarts?”

Remus nodded slowly. “For everyone else, it’s N.E.W.T.s and Ministry placements and flatshares in London. But for me, it’s just…. a big blank space. All I can think about is the moon. Every single month, for the rest of my life. And the people I’ll eventually drive away because of it.”

Sirius was quiet.

“I feel like a burden,” Remus admitted softly. “Even when no one says it. Even when you—especially you—go out of your way to never let me feel that way. It’s still always there.”

Sirius’s voice came quiet and immediate.

“You’re not.”

Remus looked up, eyes raw.

“But what if I am?”

“Then I’ll carry it.”

Remus stared at him, and Sirius shifted a little closer, hands gripping the ledge.

“I don’t say things right,” Sirius said. “I throw them around like hexes. But Moony—Merlin—I feel them. I’ve felt them for so long.”

Remus’s throat moved like he was swallowing something thick.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” he said. “Because if this is just comfort, or a phase, or—”

“It’s not.”

Remus blinked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked at you and not loved you,” Sirius continued, a little shaky. “It was just easier to call it friendship until I realized I couldn’t keep pretending.”

Remus let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sigh. “That’s the most terrifyingly brave thing you have ever said.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Sirius deadpanned, and Remus finally smiled.

Then, he leaned in.