Just so lovely, but so restless & longing, without leaving a reader wanting.

There is no sleep without Sirius now, Remus acknowledges, and some part of him is fiercely glad of it. That he isn't dead after all, that the bitterness he has cultivated these many years (twenty-one, he ruefully reminds himself) has not destroyed his ability to feel.
Goodness, but that's a beautifully aching line.

And happy belated birthday!