It was quiet.

Sirius never liked the quiet before.

But this was a nice, warm quiet. Not like in Grimmlaud 12 Place, where the cold quiet meant is mother had cast a silencing charm to not allow screams of agony be heard, a woman who despised having the fireplace lit, no matter if her children got sick.

He hated her.

But... he was happy right now, and he didn't want to think about her right now. Just his husband, who was reading peacefully, glasses on, looking like an off-brand James. He looked cute.

He smiled, and then got up and went to stand behind Remus, wrapping his arms gently around him. He had not thought it possible his heart could be this happy, this calm and relaxed.

He looked at the book his husband (his husband. His husband! It was so hard to believe he could be someone's husband. He hoped it would never change..) was reading. It was a muggle one called 'The Hobbit'.

"What's it about?" He asked, voice soft. While he liked muggle books, he'd had no time to read one since he'd ran away from home, and he felt a sort of... shame?

But not really. All he didn't like was the idea of not having things in common with Remus, even if it was just a little, and not wanting to admit that he, who was raised in a rich pureblood supremacist household, had never been allowed to touch a muggle book. (Like Remus didn't already know.)

Remus could barely concentrate on the hobbit, with the way Sirius had wrapped his arms around him, and the fact that he could smell his cologne.

God, even after all these years, the man still knew how to make him lose his mind.

"It's about a guy named Bilbo." He explained, and he could already sense Sirius getting ready to make a joke, but he spoke before he could. "Stop right there. No innuendos. You're on very thin ice, you know?"