Stretched out on his bed, Remus stares up at the ceiling of Sirius' room. The light is dimmed, but it isn't dark enough for Remus to pretend that his skin bears no scars. Next to him, leaning against his leg, Mittens and Mentos have curled up together, their purrs murmuring delightful vibrations into his skin. Marshbutton, reduced to a simple silhouette on Sirius' bed, is swatting at her own tail.

"You awake?" 

Remus turns his head to see Sirius watching him, leaning against the small door that leads to his bathroom. In the dark, Remus can't make out the little details of his face. He can't see Sirius' eyes like this.

"Yeah," Remus says, surprising himself with how tired he sounds. 

Sirius puts his towel away and carefully climbs into bed. Remus smiles when he notices Sirius trying to get comfortable without disturbing Marshbutton, who has, during the incredibly short amount of time that's passed, somehow fallen asleep.

"Can you turn the light off?" Sirius huffs out, finally having settled down. Remus half-sits up, leaning on his elbow for support, and turns the light off. 

The darkness that falls brings a sudden intimacy that Remus isn't prepared for. 

"Did you call your mom?" Sirius asks after a while. 

"Yeah," Remus replies, softly, because the darkness demands it. There's something about the inability to see that always strips Remus of what little he has of confidence, that swallows his voice and holds it hostage. He wonders, quietly, if Sirius feels the same way.

A brief silence follows, and Remus only realizes that Sirius was waiting for him to elaborate when it's too late. 

"Oh, okay..." Sirius' voice is soft, too. "Good night, Remus."

Remus turns his head, but he can't really see Sirius. He can't see anything at all. "Good night," he says, voice edging closer to a whisper, "Sirius."

***

As he steps out of Miss Hall's fireplace, Remus wonders if terrible naming skills go hand in hand with wizardry. An odd case of genetic linkage, maybe. Admittedly, though, Book Hall is probably not that bad. If she followed the same footsteps as Dodderidge, Remus would have to bear the horror of working at a place called something along the lines of The Mouldy Scroll.

"Remus, dear," Miss Hall hobbles over to him, her cane tapping on the wooden floor as she walks. Eugenie Hall is a woman who looks like she could be anywhere between fifty and two-hundred. Her face is wrinkled but pleasant, and a smile that can only be described as jolly graces her features. Her clothes are quite worn but clean, a flowery blouse and a long green skirt.

What Remus loves the most about her is he pointed hat, which is a bright pink. With all those colours, she looks a bit like a rainbow gone wrong.

"Hello, Miss Hall," he smiles at her. 

"Come, come," she leads him towards the front of the shop. She stops in front of a pile of books probably taller than Remus. "Why don't we start by putting these away?"

***

"Oh my fucking—" Remus almost falls back into the fireplace as soon as he enters  Sirius' library. 

"Remus!" Sirius looks at him with wide eyes, his mouth open in exaggerated horror. "There's a child here!" He wraps an arm around Regulus' shoulder, pulling him into his side, and covers his ears. Huffing in annoyance, Regulus shoves himself off.

The two brothers are seated beside each other on a long divan directly facing the fireplace. An open notebook and a quill lie sprawled across Sirius' lap, and Regulus is holding a massive book that looks like a much effective murder weapon.

"You scared me," Remus leans against the frame of the fireplace, a hand still on his chest. 

"Sorry about that," Regulus rolls his eyes, "Someone couldn't concentrate on anything because he didn't know when his boyfriend would come back—"

Remus forgets how to breathe.

"I swear to Merlin, Regulus, I'm going to poison your coffee if you don't stop saying that," Sirius glares at his brother, tossing the notebook and quill away. 

"I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me," Regulus flips his hair, putting his book away as well. 

"Is that so?" Sirius frowns, "Then I guess I'll just murder the spit-spitting spitflower instead," he grins devilishly. He stands up and smooths his shirt down.

"I'll chop your fingers off if you touch Dorothy..." Regulus glares up at Sirius.

A giggle bursts out of Remus when he hears that. The two brothers turn to him. 

"Remus, this is a serious situation," Regulus shakes his head disappointedly. 

"You... You call it... Dorothy?" Helpless with laughter, Remus grips a nearby bookshelf to retain his balance.

Regulus gives him a look that almost manages to make him stop laughing. "Her," he narrows his eyes, "I call her Dorothy."

Sirius gives Remus a look that reads something like Don't question it. "Enough of that," He walks over to Remus. "Why don't you go change? We'll make you tea," he says once he reaches Remus. 

"Yeah, okay..." Remus nods, "I'll meet you in the kitchen, then."

Fresh after his shower, Remus walks into the kitchen. Sirius and Regulus are already seated. Remus' blue mug is placed in front of his usual seat beside Regulus, wisps of white steam rising from it. A plate carrying three little cupcakes sits on the table.

"I didn't mean to take so long, I'm sorry," Remus slides into his seat.

"It's alright, Remus," Regulus smiles at him, "We just sat down,"

"Have a cake," Sirius pushes the plate away towards Remus and Regulus, "We thought it would be nice to bake some for your mom,"

"Oh?" Remus blinks, looking from Regulus to Remus. He bites his lip, starting to feel  guilty. It didn't even occur to him that he should take something for his mom. "You... Thank you," he says softly, "You guys are too kind to me,"

"Oh, please," Regulus nudges him with his elbow, "We don't have much to do at home anyway. Besides, we got free cakes, so..."

"Still, thank you," Remus blushes a little.

"If I say you're welcome, will you stop thanking us and just eat one?" Sirius asks him, raising an eyebrow. 

Blushing harder, Remus grabs a cake and takes a bite out of it. 

"That's more like it," Sirius laughs.

When Remus finally stops blushing, he looks up from his mug to see that Regulus has already finished his. 

"It's really good," he says, looking at Sirius. "Won't you eat yours?"

"I thought it was for you," Sirius looks at Regulus.

"Three people, three cakes," Regulus shrugs, "Would've thought it was obvious."

Remus looks at Sirius, who's frowning at Regulus. 

"Just eat it," Remus bites his lip, feeling uneasy. Sirius turns to him. His face is unreadable, but then it morphs into a small smile. 

"I'm really not in the mood for it," he tilts his head, "I had a late lunch,"

"We had lunch together, you idiot," Regulus rolls his eyes. "Just eat the bloody cake."

"But I want to save room for Remus' mom's dinner..."

"Half of it, then," Remus suggests, knowing that this argument won't end any time soon otherwise. 

"I—" Sirius stops himself when he catches Regulus' gaze. In dead silence, the two brothers stare right at each other for what feels like an hour to Remus. He can't tell what's going on, and it feels as if the air inside the kitchen is expanding, pushing at the walls and trying to make the room explode. Unnerved and feeling suddenly helpless, Remus moves his gaze from one Black to the other, wishing desperately for this—whatever it is—to end.

"Fine," Sirius finally says, looking away. "I'll have half."

Regulus breaks the cake in two and holds the obviously bigger one out to Sirius, who takes it reluctantly. Remus looks down at his tea, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring like a creep. 

 "You can have this," Regulus tells Remus quietly, making him look up. 

"No, no, you eat it," Remus smiles at him, "Thanks, Reg." 

The rest of their tea time passes in silence—not as heavy as before but in no way comfortable, either—and Sirius doesn't really look at either Remus or Regulus. Remus is actually glad when it's over.

"We should... we should go get ready," he tells Remus. Nodding, Remus stands up as well. 

"I'll put these away," Regulus stands up as well, looking at Sirius with an expression Remus isn't entirely familiar with. It's almost like a plea. "Just go get dressed, both of you. It's already getting late."