Ride the blue wind, high and free
She'll lead you down through misery
Leave you low, come time to go
Alone and low, as low can be.
Lily and James’s wedding was set for late September. It was going to be a relatively small affair - order members and school friends, mostly - and it would be held at the Potters’ estate. They were hoping the weather would be nice enough to have it in the gardens, but even if it rained there was plenty of room indoors.
After making such a fuss on the night of Remus’s homecoming, Sirius was clearly very embarrassed by how he’d acted, and made up for it by doing pretty much anything James and Lily asked of him. He ordered dress robes for the boys in Madam Malkin’s, went to pick up the rings from the jeweller, and offered his entire record collection up for use at the reception.
Remus, who had never been to a wedding, tried to stay well back. As far as he knew, his duty as groomsman was to show up, keep Sirius’s head from exploding, and make sure none of Lily’s muggle family saw anything too scarring.
Sirius’s most bonkers act of contrition was to hand-write all of the invitations. His talent for calligraphy was still one of Sirius’s darkest secrets, (and Remus’s favourite thing to tease him about) but he was determined to be the perfect Best Man, so he sat hunched over the dining table one afternoon and worked at it for a solid four hours.
“Fifty-eight!” Sirius said, triumphantly, finishing the last invitation with a flourish of his quill.
“Well done,” Remus said, glancing over the top of his newspaper, “Ahh, look at your pretty handwriting! So dainty!”
“Better than your chicken-scratch!” Sirius poked his tongue out.
“Just don’t tell anyone you did them,” Remus advised, “Or you’ll start getting requests.”
“Do you really think they’re that good?” Sirius asked, holding one up to the light to inspect the delicate whorls of black ink.
“They’re gorgeous. Really.” Remus said, fondly.
“Well, this is the only time I’m doing it,” Sirius sniffed, tidying up the pile, “This is the one and only wedding I will ever support.”
“What if Mary got married? Or Pete?”
“I’d show up and get drunk, but secretly I would hate every minute.”
“Very reasonable,” Remus nodded.
“Another thing you can blame the noble and most ancient house of cack for.” Sirius said, “Do you know how many engagement dinners and weddings I’ve been to? Ugh.” He shuddered visibly. “So I’m sorry, Moony, but you’ll never make an honest man of me.”
“Oh, and I was just about to propose,” Remus said dryly, getting up, “Tea?”
“Please.” Sirius nodded, rubbing his sore knuckles.
Remus entered the kitchen, tapping the kettle with his wand - they’d gone to get it the same day as the dress robes. It had reminded Remus a bit of going to get his school shoes as a boy; Ollivander measured him and then hummed and ahhed and muttered to himself under his breath. He’d rummaged about in the stock room and bought out box after box of wands for Remus to try. Eventually they’d settled on a flexible cypress number, with a unicorn hair core.
He’d been trying to get used to it. It wasn’t the same as Lyall’s wand (which he’d found out had been blackthorn, with a kelpie hair core) - it seemed less rigid, more inclined to do what Remus told it. Which meant that Remus had to remember not to put too much force behind his magic, as he’d grown used to doing.
