[Podfic] Hope's Cottage by thewholeofthemoon

Remus Lupin opened his eyes to the sound of the bedroom door opening, late morning sunlight peeking through the closed window blinds.

“Moony?” Sirius asked, stepping into the bedroom and closing the door behind him. He was carrying a bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other, setting them on the bedside table as he came to sit on the edge of the bed.

Remus pushed himself up on his elbows so he was propped halfway up on the pillows, “Sirius…” his voice was hoarse but before he could struggle to clear it, Sirius was handing him the glass of water. Remus drank it all gratefully and handed it back to him. “How’d…how’d I get in here? I don’t really remember…”

“It was bad, Moony, I carried you. Let me see…” Sirius lifted Remus’ hands absorbedly, examining the freshly re-grown pink skin on his knuckles, leaning forward to look carefully at the side of Remus’ cheek—Remus felt the ache and knew without needing to look that there was a gash there.

“Healing nicely,” Sirius murmured.

“They always do,” Remus assured him, “Where’s Harry?”

“Taking a nap,” Sirius answered, “He and I…we had trouble sleeping last night. We were up pretty late.”

“Sirius, the boy needs his rest—”

“It couldn’t be helped, Moony. He couldn’t sleep, and we both needed the company. I know you know that he was worried, although he did put on good brave face.”

“As I’m sure you told him to.”

“Yes, for you. I know it’s what you would want rather than seeing how worried for you he really was. And don’t start to say he shouldn’t be worried.”

Remus sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius had reached back and was now handing the bowl to Remus with an air of forced cheer, “Harry asked if he could play you in Wizard’s Chess tonight, if you’re feeling well enough. Let that be your motivation.”

“Ah, beating a poor innocent youth at Wizard’s Chess. There’s no stronger impetus for recovery.”

“That’s right,” Sirius smiled, leaning in and kissing Remus on the cheek, “Now, no more talking from you. You have stew. I’ll talk—I’ve many thoughts on whether or not we should start our subscription to the Prophet. I know we said we weren’t going to until the rat’s sentencing was published and out, but I think reading the sentencing can’t be much worse than going to the trial and besides that, I would love to have Harry read the Sports section so we can get some inspiration for our drills. And of course, I know you love a good crossword and the Prophet’s Sunday ones are not always rubbish…”

Remus Lupin ate stew propped up in bed that late-morning, the shivers and dull ache of his muscles and bones and the faint stinging of healing wounds fading to the back of his mind as he watched Sirius’ animated face, his gesturing hands, and listened to the love of his life babble to him about nonsense.

Harry Potter lay atop his bedsheets, not even attempting to nap. The window was slightly ajar so Hedwig could come in easily when she returned, but it wasn’t the slight breeze and call of the birds and sunshine that distracted Harry from sleep. He had quite a lot to think about.

Obviously, best friends love one another. I mean, Harry loved Ron and Hermione in a best-friend-love way. But then there was another kind of love—the romantic kind. Harry had hardly any experience with that (he did NOT even consider Petunia and Vernon in his line of thinking around romantic love—YUCK), but he had seen films with couples in love and he had seen Arthur and Molly Weasley together.

The events of sunrise that morning wouldn’t stop playing in Harry’s mind: first, there was the horror and fear and misery of seeing Remus like that—Harry and Sirius would have to find another solution next moon, having Remus rip himself to shreds locked in that dark cellar would NOT do again—and second, then there was…

Darling, Sirius had called Remus.

Sirius carrying—carrying—Remus in his arms, his face a mask of worry, absorbed completely in Remus, stroking the other man’s torn body with the Essence and murmuring soothing words.

Our bedroom.

And I—fancying myself a bit of an expert in Remus Lupin, and Sirius’ abrupt blush.

But there was a whole lot more than that, Harry thought. Sirius’ touching of Remus—his hand on Remus’ knee or shoulder. The way he talked about him—like Remus knew all the answers—and Sirius always seemed so proud of him, and seemed so proud of knowing him. Well, Harry thought, hard not to be proud of a man as brave and strong as Remus.

That’s what I told him, Sirius had said in that unfamiliarly soft voice that day in Professor Lupin’s office, reaching across the space to touch Remus.

How Sirius had no eyes at all for the two young women in the café, how he seemed personally offended that someone else had got Remus to cave into CD’s. And there was the way that almost every afternoon after their Quidditch drills, when Sirius touched down on the grass, he stared at where Remus sat watching them, and Harry had had no way to describe the look in his eye—but now he could. Sirius stared at Remus, after only a few hours or so without a close view of the other man, and looked like he had caught the Golden Snitch.

Sirius loves Remus, Harry thought with now 100% certainty.

Now, did Remus love Sirius? Well, a few things came to mind quickly: Remus’ now-amendedly-characteristic blushing at Sirius, his knowing what Sirius liked to eat, how he liked his tea, what books or music he liked. There was the way mischief flashed in his eyes, always directed at Sirius. There was the way Harry looked up in the evenings from Gobstones with Sirius, or from Treasure Island, and would catch Remus just staring at Sirius—his eyes always seemed molten, like melted chocolate. It must be a kind of reassurance, Harry had thought those times; a reassurance that Sirius was really back in Remus’ life, not locked in Azkaban.

And then there was the day, about a week prior, when Sirius had gone to be a witness in Peter Pettigrew’s conviction trial.

It was the longest Harry had been separated from his godfather since Sirius had taken him from the Dursley’s, and the only time either Sirius or Remus had ever left the cottage grounds. Harry had been worried about Sirius when he got up that morning, knowing that his godfather would have to go to the Ministry and testify—to have see Peter Pettigrew, and to have to relive horribly painful events that may leave him wracked with guilt and grief and vengeful anger. Sirius and Remus never said Peter’s name or mentioned the trial, except the night before at dinner when Sirius had told Harry in a gruff tight voice that he’d have to be gone the next day.

But the next morning at breakfast, as Harry was preparing any number of previously-thought-up conversation points to distract Sirius and get him thinking of how good it would be when he did return to the cottage in the evening, Remus surprised him.

“I’ve something for you both,” Remus said in a light tone as he reached into the cupboard above the tea kettle and pulled something that must have been hidden deep within. Sirius raised an eyebrow, glancing at Harry.

Remus walked back to the table and sat at his usual seat beside Sirius, laying down a rectangular worn leather tome. “I’m sorry I didn’t show it to either of you sooner,” Remus said with a slightly apologetic look at them both, “But I thought it could be especially welcome at the right time.”

Harry realized with a jolt that Remus had planned this—whatever this gift was—specifically for today, for Peter Pettigrew’s trial, when all sorts of tragic thoughts would be occupying space in all of their minds. He motioned at Sirius to open the tome and Sirius, with a quizzical look, opened it.

It was a Wizard photo album, and the first page showed two pictures of three young boys, one taken in a dorm room grinning with arms around each other’s shoulders, one of them laying on the grass the breeze ruffling their robes, and another two pictures of just two boys, one of two dark haired boys standing side-by-side in red and gold Quidditch robes, laughing hugely and ruffling each other’s hair, and another of one dark haired boy and one brown haired boy sitting on the sofa in what Harry recognized immediately as the Gryffindor Common Room, a record player spinning in-between them as they looked at one another.

“Look,” Sirius whispered in awe, pointing at the one of three boys laying in the grass, robes and ties askew, “There’s James, Harry. I haven’t seen him since…”

Harry looked up from delightedly staring at the three photos which featured his animated father as a young boy, and saw Sirius had tears in his eyes, and Remus was just looking at Sirius.

Sirius turned the page, and more Wizard pictures revealed themselves: Sirius and James and Lily sitting and laughing along the bench at the Gryffindor Table, Sirius and Remus with their heads bent over parchment which Harry noticed revealed a map of Hogwarts—the Marauder’s Map. A picture of James and Lily, James in his Quidditch robes and arms wrapped around one another, kissing while red and gold confetti rained down on them.

“Oh, Lily…” Sirius sighed, running one hand along the photo of him and the couple.

After a moment he seemed to have found himself, and glanced up at Harry, who was just smiling hugely, staring at the photo of his young parents hungrily. “Come closer, pup,” Sirius beckoned him, and Harry jumped up eagerly and went to stand behind Sirius’ shoulder, and they spent the rest of the morning going through the album slowly, page by page.

There were photos stretching from the Marauder’s first year, all the way to James and Lily’s wedding and Harry’s birth. Photos of baby Harry in Lily’s arms, Harry gripping his mother’s brilliant red hair in his baby fist. The last photo, beneath one of Harry and his parents, James with his arms around Harry and Lily, was of one-year old Harry, sitting upright on the carpet in the house in Godric’s Hollow with Sirius and Remus sitting in front of him, Remus with a hand full of light green flames—exactly as he had cast on the Hogwart’s Express the day Harry had met him as Professor Lupin. Baby Harry was watching enthralled, and so too, was Sirius, they were both staring at him with looks of awe.

Sirius closed the photo album as the clock chimed, and wiped under his misty eyes, clearing his throat gruffly. Harry saw him reach and squeeze Remus’ hand.

“Remember all that joy and love,” Remus told Sirius and Harry. He hadn’t needed to tell either of them that really—the gift of the photo album that particular morning was the same exact message.

Sirius had Apparated just outside the wards, and Remus and Harry had gone back to the kitchen table. This time, Harry flipped the pages and asked questions of Remus.

“What were you all doing here?” “What year was this?” “What’s Sirius looking at in the foreground?” “Did they win the Quidditch Cup that year?”

And Remus answered: “They were watching to see the statues start singing T. Rex—the prank we had plotted the night before.” “That was our fifth year—they’d just become Animagi, can you see how proud and pleased they look?” “He’s looking at the Slytherins—Snape probably—that’s why his brow furrows just there.” “Yes, James scored 100 points that game alone. I lost count of how many goals overall that season.”

Remus and Harry stared at the moving memories all day, and Remus only moved away from the photo album except to make lunch and tea. Just before dusk and dinnertime, Remus moved them to the living room, perching himself on the sofa so he could stare out the window, waiting to see Sirius return.

“It went okay, you think?” Harry asked him from the carpet where he was flipping Gobstones aimlessly. Remus did not look particularly anxious, but it was hard to tell sometimes with Remus.

Remus didn’t look away from the window, “I think so, Harry.”

The sky was turning orange and pink with sunset when Sirius appeared walking in through the shielded-magic entrance, up the grass front garden. Remus bolted from the sofa, running from the living room, throwing up the front door so fast Harry barely registered that he’d moved until he saw Remus meet Sirius in the front garden and throw his arms around him.

Harry went to the open threshold, watching as Sirius and Remus whispered to one another, arms wrapped around the other’s body. When they pulled apart, Sirius looked tired, but he was smiling.

“Hiya pup,” Sirius said as he and Remus reached Harry at the doorway.

“Hiya Padfoot,” Harry said, smiling up at him.

Sirius ruffled his hair, “Right then. Dinner? I’m starving.”

Laying on his bed, pretending to be napping, Harry thought of that day a week ago. He thought of the way Remus knew just what Sirius—and also Harry, granted—needed to get through that awful day. He thought of how Remus moved with uncharacteristic un-restriction to reach Sirius on the grass. He thought of how anytime Harry had asked about a photo with Sirius, Remus remembered exactly what had been happening in that moment, and knew exactly what Sirius had been thinking and feeling.

Harry thought of one photo of Sirius and Remus in particular, one Remus had told him had been taken by James. It showed Sirius and Remus sitting on the grass in front of the Black Lake one fine day at the end of their sixth year. Sirius was laughing and gesturing, telling a story, and Remus was a bit behind him, propped up on his elbows in the grass. He was staring at Sirius—eyes like melted chocolate, and a small smile was spread on his lips.

Remus loves Sirius, Harry thought with 100% certainty.

The only question now was: how would Harry tell them that he knew? They mustn’t have to hide from him anymore—Harry remembered their toast the day they all moved into Hope’s Cottage. They were all free now, and Remus and Sirius deserved to be free together. Harry would not be in the way of that; he would not allow it.

Harry finally gave up the napping charade a little after 12 noon and went into the kitchen to find Sirius at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich. “Want one, Harry?” Sirius asked him.

“Yes, please,” Harry said sitting across from him. Sirius waved his wand and accioed the ingredients for a sandwich from the cupboards to the table, and helped Harry make his.

“Moony’s resting still,” Sirius told him without Harry having to ask, “But he assured me he’ll be fit for a game of Wizard’s Chess with you after dinner.”

Sirius and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon out in the back garden. Sirius turned into Padfoot and Harry threw him sticks to catch. Hedwig flew through the wards just before they were getting ready to go in for dinner. Padfoot turned back into Sirius just before stepping back into the cottage, and as he and Harry entered, they were surprised to see Remus standing by the tea kettle. He looked pale and tired, with heavy shadows under his eyes, of course, but the red slash on his face and his previously-marred knuckles were now scar tissue, the color a soft pink.

He smiled at them both, “I’m thinking spaghetti?” He asked them, eyes twinkling.

“Right you are then,” Sirius said, grinning. And Harry sat at the table and watched the completely un-ironically fascinating act of Sirius and Remus prepare dinner.

Harry and Remus played Wizard’s Chess on the sofa, the board in the middle as they leaned on either arm, Remus wrapped up in blankets once more and sitting closer to the fire. Sirius watched them from the armchair closest to Remus, offering animated commentary and charming the pieces to use swear words. Remus smiled indulgently at him and said nothing when his Knight hollered, “Wanker!” at Harry’s Bishop. Harry was putting up a good fight, but he could tell that Remus was prolonging the game, and Harry himself, was prolonging saying his revelation. Finally, Remus was left with really no option than to checkmate Harry, and Remus’ Bishop shouted triumphantly as it took Harry’s King.

Remus offered Harry his scarred but healing Hand, “Good game, Harry.”

Harry shook it, using very little force for fear of agitating the healing process, but was shocked to find how strong Remus’ grip was. His eyes widened perceptibly.

“I’m stronger than I look Harry,” Remus told him with a wink.

“Too right,” Sirius said from his armchair, looking at Remus with pride.

Harry helped Remus put the chess pieces back in their box, breaking up a sword fight between the Black Knight and the White Knight, and then Harry stood and put the board and box back in their place on the bottom shelf of the lamp table before plopping himself down on the carpet, staring at the flames in the fireplace. Sirius had charmed them to flicker red and gold tonight. Sirius stood up fron his armchair, stretched, and said, “Tea, Moony?”

Remus nodded, “Ta, Sirius.”

Sirius went into the kitchen, making quite a bit more noise than Remus ever did when he made the tea. Harry waited until Sirius returned with two tea cups, and was not at all surprised when Sirius took Harry’s earlier seat on the sofa, handing one tea cup to Remus as he said, “Ah give a man a wee bit of blanket, will you?” Remus smiled at him and unwrapped part of the blankets around his legs so that it also covered Sirius’.

Harry cleared his throat, and immediately his face went bright red with what he had prepared to say. The two men looked at him, mildly at first, and then with slightly wider eyes. “Harry, you alright there?” Sirius asked, already worried.

Harry nodded an almost absurd number of times, “Yeah, yeah, I just…I wanted to ask you both something.”

Sirius and Remus shared a quick glance before looking back at him. “Anything, Harry,” Sirius assured him, “You can ask us anything.”

“Alright,” Harry said, his voice cracking a bit with his nervousness. He fidgeted on the carpet, glancing between Sirius and Remus and the fireplace. The thing was Harry only felt awkward because he was worried about their reaction—he did not want to upset them, especially with Remus still recovering from the transformation. Moreover, he did not want them to feel awkward around him at all. He wanted them to be comfortable, like how they always made him feel. Finally, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He had to face his worries—be brave, for them.

He looked at them both, Sirius was still watching him with slight anxiety. Remus looked at him mildly, but his brow was furrowed slightly.

“Howlonghaveyoutwobeentogether?” Harry asked in a rush.

Sirius’ eyes popped wide in their sockets, and both he and Remus’ mouths fell open; they just stared at him.

“I don’t want you to hide,” Harry insisted, looking at them imploringly.

The two men still were staring at him—Sirius still in shock; did he not realize how much he had given away to Harry the night before? He must have been so distracted by Remus, Harry thought.

Remus’ open mouth slowly spread into his classically enduring small smile. “Since about our sixth year, Harry,” Remus answered him. “

Did my dad and mum know?” Harry couldn’t help but ask next.

“Yes,” Sirius answered, voice slightly hoarse.

Remus’ smile widened slightly, “James found out after a Full Moon, too. Don’t you remember, Sirius?” He looked back to Sirius, who finally glanced away from Harry. Their eyes locked and after a few of Harry’s stammering heartbeats, Sirius smiled enormously. His whole face looked lit from within. He reached his free hand toward Remus, who took it and interlaced their fingers.

“O’ course, I remember,” Sirius laughed, “Poor lad almost had a stroke.”

“For a moment,” Remus replied, still smiling, “But he took it well in stride quite quickly.”

“Well, that was Prongs,” Sirius said.

“Lily was the same,” Remus nodded his head. The two men turned back to Harry.

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re a lot like your parents, Harry?” Remus said to him, eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief.

“Once or twice,” Harry said, grinning with relief that things had gone so far, so well.

“How long have you known, Harry?” Sirius asked him, looking slightly worried.

“Just…kind of guessed,” Harry said. He had promised Sirius that Remus would never know that Harry had been there after Sirius took him out of the cellar earlier that morning. If Sirius asked Harry again in private, Harry would tell him the truth.

“I don’t want you to hide,” Harry repeated, “But I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. I won’t tell Ron or Hermione, I swear.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus told him, “We’d prefer it stay between the three of us, for now.”

“I promise it will,” Harry nodded for emphasis. And then he smiled at them, “Any other last secrets?”

Sirius laughed wholeheartedly, his shoulders shaking with it, “Reckon that’s the last one, pup. But we’ll keep you on your toes, won’t we?”

Remus chuckled, “I imagine so.”

Sirius and Remus finished their tea as Harry asked them about his parent’s discovery of their relationship. Harry hazarded a guess that Sirius and Remus were giving him a slightly censored version, and Harry was grateful. But they were all tired from the night before, and those stories were told quickly, and it was Sirius who announced it was time for bed.

Harry stretched and stood from the carpet and his godfather and Uncle Moony did the same, stretching their long limbs. Remus used his own volition to rise from the sofa, and Sirius didn’t offer him any aid—Remus can be prideful, Sirius said, Harry thought, and realized he understood how Remus felt.

They all climbed the stairs together. “Night, pup,” Sirius said, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“Night, Sirius. Night, Remus.”

“Good night, Harry,” Remus said as Harry gave them a small wave and stepped into his bedroom, closing the door.

“What do you think, Sirius?” Remus said, he and Sirius were laying on their sides, face-to-face, in their bed.

“I’m so happy, Moony,” Sirius told him, squeezing their clasped hands and leaning in to kiss Remus on the lips.

“Me too,” Remus said once they broke apart.

“In fact,…” Sirius said, moving closer to nuzzle Remus’ neck, “I’m so happy,” his breath was warm and tantalizing on Remus’ skin, “I want to try something we haven’t tried since…”

“Oh?” Remus breathed, his skin covered in goosebumps and warmth growing low in his belly as Sirius nipped his neck, his hands moving to roam down his arms and torso.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Sirius was saying, moving his lips and hands lower, “This is for you.”

Remus’ breathing hitched as Sirius’ hands slide down, moving under the elastic of his briefs, and soon Sirius’ head followed suit, and Remus’ hands gripped the seats as Sirius’ lips filled with him, his hands massaging the side of Remus’ hips and his thighs.

Afterward, Remus held Sirius into his chest, their legs and fingers intertwined, as chastely close as their two bodies could be.

“I love you,” Remus whispered in Sirius’ ear.

“M’ love you, Moony,” Sirius replied and they fell into sleep.