Sirius sees it easily, of course, the quiet pain in Remus' eyes, and he understands it completely. The two of them have had more than enough grief in their life to be far too intimate with how it feels, Sirius can still remember the awful pain of losing James and Lily, how it had felt in the moment as if nothing would ever be right again, as if the agony of loss would never stop, relentless and violent.

Remus had felt it all over again. Sirius is making light of it, he knows, but he knows too that his best mate has been through the meat grinder again.

A shadow ghosts behind Sirius' eyes, and he drops his gaze down and away, quiet and abashed, until he feels the gentle tug of Remus' fingers. For a moment Sirius is still and silent, before he's slipping his arms up and closing them around Remus from behind, tugging him back and into his grasp, hugging him tightly. "Well he's here now," he says, gently. "And I don't imagine he's going anywhere."