Chapter Text
“Uncle Padfoot, let’s go!”
Harry’s voice carries down the hall, impatience sharpening the edges of his words. Sirius groans, sinking deeper into the couch, stubbornly refusing to move. He knows Harry won't let up, but he figures he can hold out for at least a few more minutes.
Harry, nearly nine and already far too dramatic for his own good, stomps over and plants himself in front of Sirius, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “You are so much like your father, did you know that?” Sirius mutters, peeking up at him from under his arm.
Harry does not seem amused.
“Uncle Pads, please.” He flashes his best pout, the same one that had James wrapped around his tiny little finger since birth.
Sirius rolls his eyes, already defeated. “Fine. But only because it’s nice outside and I need a book for our trip next month.”
Harry grins, victorious, and bolts for the door before Sirius even has his shoes on. He barely manages to catch up before they step out into the humid July air, thick and suffocating. His entire wardrobe is black—of course it is—so naturally, the heat clings to him like a second skin.
As they cross the street, Sirius squeezes Harry’s hand and shifts uncomfortably. His tattoos feel like they’re absorbing the sun itself, a slow burn spreading across his skin.
The bookstore is new, barely a few weeks old, but already buzzing with people looking for a brief escape from the heat. Outside, a table is set up with ice-cold water and cups for passersby.
That’s thoughtful.
Harry drags him through the doors without hesitation, beelining toward the back where the comics are displayed. The store is impressive, Sirius will give it that—tall shelves, a well-curated classics section near the entrance, and a staircase leading up to even more selections. He glances around, taking it all in.
Near the comics, a kid no older than six is sprawled on his stomach, flipping through To Kill a Mockingbird.
Weird choice for a six-year-old.
“Oh, look! They have the new Spider-Man! Dad is gonna flip!” Harry exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement.
“My dad says that one’s been selling fast,” the boy on the floor chimes in without looking up. “It’s really popular.”
Harry grins. “My dad was wrong! He said I wouldn’t find it.”
“You’re lucky your dad likes comics,” the kid says, finally sitting up. His curly hair, a sandy brown with streaks of blue, falls into his eyes as he grins, showing off a few missing teeth. “My dad’s obsessed with the classics.”
Sirius’ stomach twists. There’s something so familiar about him.
“I’m Teddy,” the boy announces, giving a small wave. “My dad owns the shop.”
Sirius’ brain grinds to a halt.
He doesn’t know any kids named Teddy. Maybe he’s seen him before—at a school event, on some advertisement, in passing—but something about the kid’s smile, his hair, his eyes…
Harry, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Sirius’ mind, introduces them. “I’m Harry, and this is my uncle Sirius.”
Teddy squints. “Sirius like the star, or Sirius like, I’m being serious?” He smirks, clearly proud of himself.
Sirius exhales a short, dry laugh. “Funny.”
Harry smacks his arm. “Be nice.”
Before Sirius can reply, a voice cuts through the air, one he hasn't heard in eight years.
“Teddy, what did I tell you about leaving your books face-down—”
Sirius turns, and the world punches him in the gut.
Remus stands a few feet away, frozen mid-step, his gaze locked onto Sirius. He looks different—his hair shorter, neater—but his eyes, wide and startled, are the same.
“Sirius?” The name leaves his lips like it physically pains him.
“Remus.” Sirius barely breathes it.
Teddy tugs at Remus’ jeans, oblivious to the way the air has been sucked out of the room. “Like the star, Daddy!” He hugs Remus’ leg, resting his book against his hip. “I don’t think I like this one. It’s too hard.”
Remus clears his throat and drags his gaze away from Sirius. “I told you that might happen. Go put it behind the desk, and we’ll find something else.” He ruffles Teddy’s curls, gently urging him away.
Sirius’ heart is a hammer against his ribs. Daddy?
“Uncle Pads, can you hold this while I look around?” Harry asks, shoving the Spider-Man comic at him, completely unaware of the hurricane inside his godfather.
Sirius takes it wordlessly, throat too tight to speak.
Harry disappears into another aisle, leaving Sirius alone with his past.
Remus watches Harry go, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Is that… Harry?” His voice is barely above a whisper.
Sirius nods. “Yup.” He pops the ‘p’ a little too hard, feigning indifference.
They stand there, a gulf of time and unanswered questions stretching between them. Sirius doesn’t know what to say. Eight years ago, he came home from work to an empty apartment and a single note on the kitchen counter.
Now, here Remus is. With a kid.
“You look well,” Remus finally says, though his voice is shaky.
Sirius snorts, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” His gaze flickers toward Teddy, who is now perched at the checkout counter, chatting with a couple and very obviously charming the hell out of them.
Sirius forces himself to speak. “You have a kid?”
“Oh! Yeah.” Remus exhales a short laugh, like he forgot that was a detail worth mentioning. “He’s… amazing.”
Sick. Sirius nods, swallowing down whatever the hell is clawing up his throat. “We should head out. I’m meeting James and Lily soon to drop Harry off.”
Remus’ expression shifts at their names. “H—how are they?” He steps forward slightly, not enough to close the space between them, but enough to show he wants to.
“They’re good.” Sirius clears his throat again. “Look, I really need to go.”
Remus nods, always the one to let Sirius have his space, even now. “It was really good to see you, Sirius.”
His voice is soft, but his eyes—his eyes look like they want to say so much more.
Sirius just nods, then pushes past him toward Harry, who now has four books in his hands.
“Uncle Pads, can I get these?” Harry asks, his glasses slipping down his nose as he grins.
“Yeah, sure.” Sirius places a hand on the boy’s back, gently steering him toward the register.
Teddy perks up. “Harry, do you think you could come here sometimes this summer? I just moved here, and I know you’re older, but we both like comics. I think we’d get along.”
Sirius watches him, watches the confidence, the easy charm—Remus never had that as a kid.
Harry smirks. “Yeah, I’m with Uncle Pads most of the time, so I’ll convince him.”
Sirius doesn’t say a word as he pays.
He doubts they’re coming back.
—
“Daddy, look what I found!”
Harry bursts into the house at full volume, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he sprints through the hallway in search of his father.
Sirius, however, moves much slower. He stands frozen in the entryway, looking like he’s just seen a ghost—because, in a way, he has.
By the time he makes it to the living room, James is already grinning at his son, listening to his rambling about the new bookshop and how he made a friend.
“He's younger than me but really funny, and his dad was cool. Uncle Pads actually talked to him for a bit.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows at his father, smug in a way only an almost-nine-year-old can be.
James whistles. “Wow, Sirius, picking up blokes while you babysit my son! Impressive multitasking.”
His teasing dies the second his eyes land on Sirius. The moment he takes in his best friend’s face—the wide, vacant stare, the slight tremor in his hands—James’ smile vanishes.
“Uh—Harry, why don’t you go show Mum your books and then put them away in your room, okay?”
Harry pouts but listens, disappearing down the hall with an exaggerated sigh. The second he's gone, James turns back to Sirius, brows furrowing.
“What happened?”
Sirius’ throat is dry. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, like it’s trying to keep him from saying the words out loud.
“It’s Remus,” he finally croaks. A single tear slips down his cheek before he can stop it.
James blinks. “Remus?” His confusion is evident, but he gestures for Sirius to sit beside him on the couch.
Sirius lowers himself onto the cushions, fingers tangling in his hair. “Remus is back. He owns the bookshop.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
James’ eyes narrow slightly as he processes. “But wait—Harry said the kid’s dad owns the booksho—”
“Yup.”
Silence.
They stare at each other, the weight of the revelation pressing down on the room. Sirius feels the burning in his eyes intensify, but he refuses to let the tears fall.
Then suddenly James sits up straighter, eyes widening.
“Remus is a dad?!” he yelps, louder than intended.
A voice from down the hall shrieks in response.
“What?!”
Lily appears within seconds, red hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her nursing scrub pants still on. She takes one look at them and places her hands on her hips. “Someone start talking.”
“Hey, Lily.” Sirius musters up his best pretty-boy smile, slouching back against the couch.
She smacks him on the head. “Shut up.”
James snickers, but Sirius just groans, rubbing his scalp.
Lily crosses her arms. “How, exactly, do you know Remus is a dad?”
“He moved back,” James mutters, still looking dazed.
“He owns the bookshop,” Sirius adds, voice flat.
“And apparently, Harry is friends with his kid now,” James finishes, running a hand through his hair like that’ll help him make sense of the situation.
Lily blinks, then suddenly brightens. “Remus is back?” Despite everything, there’s a warmth in her voice—she’s always loved Remus, and when he left, she was just as hurt as Sirius, though far more understanding.
“Oh, we have to have everyone over for dinner, then,” she announces, clapping her hands. “One of our own is home!”
Sirius groans dramatically, but Lily smacks him again.
“Grow up, Sirius. It’s been eight years. He left because he needed to, not because he wanted to.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. But Sirius won’t admit that.
Instead, he mutters, “He has a six-year-old kid, Lily.” His voice is tight, almost hoarse. “Which means less than two years after he left, he—” He exhales sharply, running a hand down his face. “He must’ve met someone. Slept with them. Cared enough to stay. He might have a wife, for all I know.”
His throat closes around the last word.
Lily’s expression softens, but her voice remains firm. “He’s family, Sirius.” Her arms cross again. “And we take care of our family. Which means we’re inviting him to dinner, along with the rest of the group.”
James glances between them, then shrugs. “It would be nice to see him again, Pads.”
Sirius lets out an exaggerated huff, throwing his arms up. “Fine. But if I sulk like a moody teenager, let me.”
Lily smirks, ruffling his hair as she turns toward the hallway. “You always sulk like a moody teenager.”
Sirius glares at James, who is grinning behind his hand.
“I’ll stop by the bookshop tomorrow,” Lily calls over her shoulder, already heading to their bedroom. “I’ll get his number, and we’ll plan something!”
Once she’s gone, Sirius groans again and flops back on the couch.
“Prongs.”
“Yeah, Pads?”
“Your wife is insufferable.”
James grins, stretching his arms behind his head. “Yeah, but she’s cute.”
His voice is so disgustingly full of adoration that Sirius physically recoils.
“Ugh.”
James just laughs.