The 6 Days of Winter [Podfics] 2022

pixelated (prettyremus) Christmas Collection

Story 1 Chiristmas Magic

“Hey, Rem?” Sirius starts, sliding his grey eyes over to glance at Remus as they walk together hand in hand through the Leaky Cauldron and out into Muggle London.

The street is full of last minute Christmas shoppers darting into and out of stores, arms laden with bags and prettily wrapped gift boxes. It’s Christmas Eve and they’ve just tumbled out of the Leaky’s floo after a holiday get together at James and Lily’s place. Their entire gang of friends had sat down for a nice little meal and exchanged Secret Santa gifts, joking and laughing in a moment of serenity and joyfulness during an otherwise bleak time. Tomorrow they’ll be back over there again, since it’s baby Harry’s first Christmas and neither one of them wants to miss a moment of it.

It’s only a short walk from here to Sirius’s flat where, normally, they’d have a drink or two before falling into bed with their arms and legs wrapped around one another, losing themselves in blissful surrender. Tonight though, Remus suspects Sirius wants to have another one of his conversations , and so, with a sigh, he pivots and faces him.

“Yes?”

He’s ready for the onslaught of questions he’s already dodged a hundred times about why he hasn’t moved in and if he ever plans to and if he’s really in this for the long haul. Truth be told, Remus would like nothing more than to move in with Sirius. He’s completely smitten, head over heels in love, has been since he was fifteen. The problem is he’s just not quite certain they’re built to last, and he wants to enjoy what they have for as long as he can– before Sirius wises up and realises that he deserves better and how silly of him it is to be dating a werewolf with no steady job and patched trousers, especially when they’re all balancing on the razor-sharp precipice of impending war.

“Do you ever want that? What they have?”

Remus blinks, tugging the lapels of his overcoat up around his neck and scarf as he purposely avoids eye contact. “Who? Want what?” The question is a little bit different from Sirius’s usuals, but Remus is sure the context remains the same.

“James and Lily,” Sirius starts. There’s a pause and then, “and… and Harry.”

Stopping in his tracks, Remus turns to Sirius, grabbing onto the crook of his arm to stop him too.

“What do you mean?”

“I meeeean ,” he says, “a marriage. A family. Do you ever think of stuff like that?”

“No,” Remus lies, staring down at his worn brown boots in the snow.

This is new territory. Surely Sirius can’t be, well, serious ; they’re barely adults themselves. Even James and Lily only got hitched last year, just after discovering Lily was pregnant. Remus isn’t sure if they would’ve gone through with it so quickly otherwise.

He chances a look up at Sirius and he’s so damn lovely with his bad boy looks, his charm and wit, his brilliant brain, his strong magic. He could have anyone he wanted, any witch or wizard or Muggle and yet, for some reason unbeknownst to Remus, he’s here , with him , has been for years , and he’s asking him these questions. He could very easily shatter Remus’s heart, and Remus has kept him at an arm’s length away in fear of just that, though how well that’s actually worked he cannot quite admit to himself.

“You’re lying.” Sirius furrows his brow and frowns a bit. “You do think about it.”

“I can’t let myself think about things like this, Sirius. They’re not realistic.”

“Bollocks,” Sirius says. “What about it isn’t realistic? You do love me, don’t you?”

“Sirius–”

“Because I love you . You’re the best thing I have in this fucked up world, and I want those things with you.”

“Sirius, you know just as well as I do that it’s not legal for us to be married, nor is it legal for someone with my condition to adopt a child!” Remus snaps, quietly as to not draw attention. “It’s silly to even think about things we can’t have, and besides, we both know this is temporary.”

“First of all, fuck you, this isn’t temporary. Secondly, answer the question, Moony.”

“What question?” he sighs, already exasperated with the whole conversation.

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, but what does that matter?”

“Because none of that matters,” Sirius says. “It doesn’t have to be a legal marriage. We’ll know. And you forget how much power my surname holds. We can have it if we fight for it, and don’t you tell me you can’t fight because I know how scrappy you are.”

“It’ll never happen,” Remus argues, shoving him back with both hands. “Just leave it alone.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Sirius mutters, and immediately drops down to one knee there on the snow dusted sidewalk, reaching into the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

“What are you doing?” Remus questions, eyebrows raised, heart beating wildly within his chest, but he already knows the answer, can read it in the stupid smirk on Sirius’s face as he pulls the black velvet box out and flips it open. There’s a shiny bit of something gold inside, but Remus refuses to actually acknowledge it.

“Remus–”

“Stand up Sirius, you’re making a scene.”

“Remus John Lupin, will you please shut the fuck up for once and do me the honor of marrying me, you absolute pain in my ass?”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“I’ll stay down here all night until you answer me,” he says, and Remus knows he absolutely would, the stubborn git.

“Bloody– fuck, alright, fine,” Remus acquiesces, throwing his hands up.

“What was that?”

“I said fine . Yes, I’ll marry you. Christ, you’re bloody insufferable!”

Sirius beams. Quickly, he removes the ring from the box and slides it onto Remus’s finger, kisses his hand, and suddenly Remus can feel the power the ring holds; the warmth of it consumes him and he realises Sirius has quite literally put a piece of himself into it, an enchantment that he knows will always lead him to his love. He can already feel the pull of it drawing him toward Sirius, surrounding them both in invisible waves of magic.

Rising back to his feet, Sirius takes hold of Remus’s face between his hands. He kisses him soundly, right there on the sidewalk, in the middle of Muggle London surrounded by snowflakes and Christmas shoppers and fairy lights. Remus curls his fingers into the folds of Sirius’s jacket, melting into the kiss, suddenly uncaring as to whomever might be watching.

This is for real. Sirius is for real.

“I swear I’m gonna make you as happy as you make me,” Sirius says when he pulls away, gazing down into Remus’s tear-rimmed eyes. “I’ll give you everything you want, everything you deserve. I promise.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” Remus laughs, blinking back his tears as he pulls him in for another sweet kiss.

Sirius Black has already given Remus everything he’s ever wanted. Anything else unexpected that may come their way is just extra.

Story 2 Lucky

Most people will take one glance at Sirius Orion Black III and tell Remus that he’s a lucky, lucky man. After all, Sirius is the ideal tall, dark, and handsome fantasy come to life that both women and men, magical and Muggle alike, fall head over heels for and fawn over. Even at his advancing age, now in his mid-40s, he is striking with his dark, silver streaked hair, his olive-tanned skin, and his grey eyes that still gleam with the mischief of a rowdy teenager behind his thin-framed glasses.

And this is not even to mention his status as a decorated war hero, his abundant inherited wealth that he uses to pamper and spoil his husband and godson whenever he gets the chance, or his thriving career as a Healer which he mostly pursued for Remus’s sake. Remus will not argue the fact. He is very lucky, indeed. He’ll tell you that all of his dreams came true when he married his best friend.

Sirius, however, will perpetually insist that it is himself who is the lucky one of the pair. He will tell anyone who is willing (or unwilling, to be perfectly frank) to listen to him ramble on that he positively worships his husband. That Remus John Lupin-Black is sweetness and kindness personified, that he is just as beautiful with his sun-freckled cheeks, bright hazel eyes, and messy head full of curls, but even more so with his pure heart and thrill for adventure. That Remus makes him feel wanted, needed, and truly loved instead of merely idolized.

Besides, no one can turn him on, physically or intellectually, like Remus can.

He will say that Remus is a literal angel walking on the earth and everyone who meets him should be falling at his feet. That in fact, it should be Remus who is sitting atop the Christmas tree, rather than that dead-eyed arts and crafts monstrosity with its tacky glitter-gold dress and crooked cotton ball wings. As he fills two glasses with Molly Weasley’s boozy holiday punch, Sirius wonders which one of Remus’s Ministry coworkers' kids made the sparkly abomination, and just who in the hell approved it to top their office party tree.

With a wave of his wand, Sirius floats one of the drinks across the room to Remus where he’s currently waiting for him beneath a sprig of white-berried mistletoe. Remus catches it and gives Sirius a beaming smile before waving him over and taking a sip.

“You look as if you’ve something on your mind, darling,” Remus says, playfully nudging his shoulder.

“I was just thinking,” Sirius responds, dipping down to kiss Remus on his pink cheek before nodding his head toward the tree, “that you’d make a truly lovely tree topper.”

“But why?” Remus asks him, raising his eyebrows as he snakes his arms around Sirius’s neck. “You’re the brightest star in the night sky.”

“Ah, I may be the star, but you are the angel,” Sirius replies, pulling him closer to his chest. “Infinitely more beautiful and wholesome.”

Remus snorts and rolls his pretty eyes. “Git. I’m no angel. Besides, you know better than anyone that I’m on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Are you insinuating what I think you’re insinuating?” Sirius asks, arching one black eyebrow as a devilish smirk stretches across his face. “Shall we put a pause on the festivities and sneak off to your office?”

“Not that!” Remus laughs and smacks Sirius’s shoulder, careful not to spill either of their drinks before deciding he’d better take them both and set them down on the table beside them. “I meant that I was waiting for a snog under the mistletoe. Godric, I swear you’d take me right here on the floor if I let you.”

“As thrilling as that sounds, my bits are for your private viewing only.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky me,” Sirius corrects before taking Remus into his arms, dipping him down low, and kissing him soundly on his cheeky little mouth.

After having several more cups of boozy punch, the two giggling men eventually do make it to Remus’s office and ring in the holiday in the best way they can think—with a bang.

They are both lucky, indeed.