we built this city (on rock and roll)

all good things...

There are just some things in life that'll make any person absolutely miserable. But, just because we accept these things, it doesn't make them any less insufferable.

One of these things was the fact that the Potters were all morning people. Especially on the 1st of September.

"GET THE FUCK UP YOU PLONKERS!" James yelled from the bottom of the Potter's staircase. Sirius guessed that he'd just gotten in from his daily morning run, and by the heavenly smell of Fleamont's signature pancakes drifting up from the kitchen, he also guessed that breakfast was almost ready.

Without mustering up a reply or glancing at his alarm clock—he had absolutely no desire to see what ungodly hour it was—Sirius rolled over in his bed to face Remus. Still asleep, his chest rose and fell peacefully and his face held no ounce of suffering. It was a relief to see him so relaxed; the moon just a few days ago had been a tough one, full of excruciating aches and nausea and sensory overloads for Remus in the run up to the actual transformation. This month was a constant battle between keeping themselves safe from the werewolf even in their animagus forms, and simultaneously preventing the werewolf from harming himself. Sirius had known Remus for almost seven years now, and they'd been together for two, but he'd never gotten used to seeing him in so much pain. Ever. And Sirius' heart felt it, every time.

He was glad that he and James had convinced Remus enough to stay at the Potter's for the last two weeks of the holiday. Sirius couldn't imagine him going through the past moon alone. They seemed to be getting worse, and they didn't know why...

Remus shuffled so his head was now in the crook of Sirius' neck, a tuft of honey hair nestling against porcelain pale skin. Sirius hummed contently—this must have been that Heaven that muggles are always talking about.

Curse James Potter and his stupid morning runs and his stupid morning routine and his stupid face.

Sirius sighed, but alas, all good things must come to an end. "Moooony," he drawled, tracing circles on the nape of Remus' neck, "James is at it again. We need to get up or there'll be nothing left to eat."

Remus grunted, wrapping his arms securely around Sirius' torso. "Tell James to get a life."

He chuckled, "Can't do that. He'd probably cry, bless him. Remember when Evans said that at the start of last year?" He asked, smiling at the dramatic memory, "Crocodile tears, Rem."

Another muffle, with maybe a smile if his amused tone was anything to go by. "James Potter and his sensitive capabilities."

"Mhm, a truly pure soul."

"OI, WANKERS! WE'RE LEAVING AT NINE, SO STOP SNOGGIN' AND COME AND GET SOME FOOD!"

A baffled "James!" resounded from a voice that was unmistakably Effie's. She was most likely in the living room, enjoying the peace. Well, probably not anymore.

The two boys lifted their heads and stared into each other's eyes.

Sirius blinked and spoke surely and decidedly. "I hate him."

All Remus could do was shake his head in despair. He then groaned into the crook of his own arms when Sirius and his warmth begrudgingly left the bed to go and face the world.

And that was when Sirius discovered the empty trunks sitting unsuspectingly at the foot of his, well their, bed. Trunks that neither of them had even thought of beginning to pack.

"Well shit."

*

Lily Evans knocked once, twice, and then three times on the maroon door of the Potter House, her brown-leather trunk standing tall by her Mary Janes. Despite being on the outside, the classic, chaotic cacophony her boys carried with them everywhere, even if they didn't mean to, reverberated from within the brick and ivy walls.