Remus had arrived on Lily's doorstep alone. Sirius had not returned from his mission thus neither had James, which meant it would only be the werewolf and the red-head that afternoon. Had Lily not been the witch she was, feisty and full of flare with the firmest handshake known to womankind (yet none the less graceful), Remus might have felt redundant. As it was, both he and the witch opposite him were loathing every passing minute, every sip from their teacup and every bite of their scones. Remus and Sirius were to be visiting the Potters' for cream tea, however they had nought but the scones and the cream for it had been up to Sirius and James to pick up the strawberries on their way home, as if that alone was enough to ensure their return.

It was laughable. It was little but a charade, one that was carried out with the intention of inspiring hope and confidence yet failing dismally. And yet it didn't fail to remind Remus and Lily that they weren't alone; that every passing moment in which they waited was spent in equal agony to the one opposite. Remus merely hoped that Sirius and James endured such torture in their absence, when Lily was carrying out some mission that a witch of her skill and charm did best, and he was associating with his own kind, creatures he was fast beginning to loath more than he loathed himself. This was optimistic to say the least.

It was a charade, and yet there was no pretending. Lily never once attempted to mask the way her eyes darted towards the door, the flicker of anxiety that crossed her features as James failed to enter the home that both he and Lily had built together. She never once attempted to conceal the way her wrist turned with each movement so that the face of her watch was ever visible, checking the time to no avail. Time no longer mattered; all that mattered was that James Potter and Sirius Black were late.

Every now and again, Lily tucked her hair behind her ears as if listening out for a sound of their return, the same sound Remus was keeping his ears pealed for; the blessed rumble of Sirius' motorbike which informed them that they were home, they were safe, and that this mission, however delayed, had not cost them their lives, preserving the very things which Remus' and Lily's lives depended on.

Remus had seen her put on a brave face on numerous occasions, and she did it well. It was a huge compliment that she spared him it on this particular occasion. That simple act alone showed that she recognised a commonality between them, so often refuted by others solely because it didn't live up to their expectations. It had never once bothered or astounded Lily that Remus was a werewolf. She was just as accepting of the fact that Remus happened to be a gay werewolf, or at least that's what experience suggested though Remus preferred not to make verbal use of such labels. Never once did Remus have to explain himself to Lily. Never once did he have to explain and excuse his feelings or the worry that plagued him in moments like this, moments when Sirius failed to reappear after a particularly dangerous mission. Nor did he have to hide.

Lily was brilliant. And yet Remus was far less honest to the point of feigning ignorance regarding their absence.

Sipping his tea, it did little to counteract the dryness of his mouth. All it served to do was betray him for the nervous wreck he was, the clatter of china the only noise to disturb the forlorn sense of quiet that enveloped them. Not a motorbike, not the click of the door opening before the laughter of the two Marauders filtered through the hall, but the clatter of teacup on saucer as Remus struggled to remind himself that as dangerous as their lives were Death had not seized them yet. He couldn't have. Because Remus needed Sirius, just as Lily needed James. Their world depended on that incontrovertible truth.

But doubt lingered. It was as cruel as You Know Who himself, mocking them for the shreds of hope they fought to retain. Lily sighed. Remus smiled, feeble but sympathetic. And they waited.

They waited until their tea had grown cold, nightfall had settled upon them and uncertainty was impossible to ignore, a deathly chill in their lungs as if doubt had been inhaled from the very absence of those two particular marauders. The motorbike never appeared. The silence was never once interrupted by the roar of the engine. Lily hugged Remus, offering him the sofa for the night so that he could keep waiting if he so wished. Remus declined. Besides, when Sirius did appear, for he eventually would, Remus was sure to kill him and he'd rather Lily not be a party to his crime. It would be brutal, bloody, an all round ugly affair only befitting the agonising amount of waiting that Sirius had put him through.

"Sirius, you better get home," Lily called across the dark front lawn, casting a stern gaze towards the raven-haired man on the motorbike. Though she was undeniably pleased to see him, almost as pleased as she was to see James. Truthfully, she couldn't recall ever loving the sound of a motorbike more than when it had torn through the dull, lifeless silence that had filled the vacancy which James' absence provided. Her arms were still clasped around her husband's waist, showing no signs of relinquishing him, as Sirius drove off and the motorbike rose into the air with little care for muggles and their disbelieving eyes.

Lily might have read the signs, each an indication that Remus was a worrier. But she couldn't possibly fathom the severity of Remus Lupin's worries. Sirius did. With this in mind, Sirius sped up, ignoring the icy wind that whipped his bare face. Moony was right, he did need a helmet, or at least some kind of repulsion charm. Remus was always right.

Merlin, I miss him.

Sleep was out of the question. But sleep was not an enemy which he must meet in battle either. As long as Sirius' whereabouts were unaccounted for, Remus Lupin didn't stand a hope in hell of sleeping.

It had not always been like this. There were times when Remus' incessant worrying could be temporarily suspended. This was before the war took a new turn for the worse, before the loss of Benjy Fenwick and before Mad Eye was Mad Eye. With each passing day, with each new blow the Order had been dealt, Remus' worries became ever more justified.

It never failed to surprise Remus that he was no longer accustomed to a life on his own. It had not occurred to Remus to climb into bed and switch out the lamp because that was a routine which he so rarely carried out alone. The brush of Sirius' arm against his bare chest as he reached over him to switch out the light was customary. It was as much a comfort as feeling Sirius' hand tightly clutching his own as he read over the headlines on the Daily Prophet, for the Daily Prophet never had any heartening news to print. It was as welcome as Sirius' hot breath against his lips as fear transformed into an eagerness to live life to the full, a life in which each moment was well spent, which in turn transformed into the sating of burning desires and a love consummated time and time again.

Remus rested with his back against the headboard, a book propped open against his knees. His eyes were firmly set upon the page, yet they didn't move. There wasn't a book in the world let alone on his bookshelf that could have provided him with ample distraction in the current circumstances. A cup of tea had been set on the bedside table, but it was little more than a prop. It was there to suggest that Remus would continue to live his life without Sirius if he must, that he was comfortable without him, that he didn't need him, and that Sirius' absence hadn't been tearing him up ever since he failed to return. Remus thought about sitting on the sofa in the front room, but he'd rather instil a moment of fear in the heart of Sirius Black. He'd rather Sirius consider, even if it was solely for a few fleeting seconds, that Remus had gone to bed without him. It was the only act of defiance Remus had; he would treat Sirius' tardiness as a slight, because that was far more preferable to the alternative. Far more preferable to the truth. That this mission simply hadn't gone as planned.

Remus Lupin, you really are a woman.

Then Remus' ears pricked. He heard the faint jangle of keys at the door. The door opened. Remus wished he'd had the sense to turn on the light in the other room for the next sound he heard was a slew of curses, so familiar a sound that Remus couldn't help but grin. But by the time the clunk of heavy boots on the floorboards reached the bedroom door, Remus had suppressed his pleasure at Sirius' return until he could determine the state of the man before him.

"Moony, what are you doing?" Sirius asked curiously, leaning against the frame of the door and clearly unfazed by the fact that he was a half a day later than he said he'd be or that he looked a sorry sight, tired and haggard. And yet just as Sirius-like as ever.

What am I doing? Only waiting for you, you bloody berk. "I couldn't sleep."

Remus snapped the book shut, placing it to one side of the bed. Now that Sirius was here, it was nigh on impossible to preserve a mask of anger in place of concern. If Remus ever returned late from a mission, he never heard the end of it. Sirius was good at layering guilt upon guilt until Remus was forced to confess more about his mission than he liked. Because Sirius didn't get it. But Remus did. This war, it was beyond any of them. It didn't always go as planned. That they'd been lucky enough to escape death thus far was a gift from Merlin himself.

"I got.. held up."

An understatement, perhaps? Remus sighed. Sirius crossing the room to perch on the edge of the bed was enough of an apology, but an apology in any form was wholly unnecessary. Remus even felt a little guilty that Sirius didn't feel as if he could collapse on the bed and demand tea and a warm embrace, for there couldn't have been anything he needed more. Remus knew what it was like. Bloody awful. Each mission reminded them that they weren't kids anymore. But if their youth was all the war cost them then they were lucky.

"Remus-"

But Remus didn't want to hear it. In one surprisingly slick movement, Remus had kissed Sirius full on the mouth, eating the words that were moments from leaving his lips. Sirius didn't have to explain, just as Remus didn't want to explain when he returned from a mission. What mattered was that Sirius was here now, Remus was still here, and they shouldn't waste another second on thoughts of the war when nothing could be done about it in these early hours of the morning.

One hand found a home in the soft tresses of Sirius' hair, the other cupping Sirius' jaw as insurance that he wouldn't part from the much needed embrace, not that any insurance was required. From the moment their lips met in a sweet reunion, Sirius couldn't remember why he'd needed to be absent from the werewolf's life in the first place. Thoughts of the past two days left him as easily as if they had been nothing more than a dream all along. He was somehow able to forget what he'd seen, what he'd heard and what he'd had to do as a result.

Sirius moved to bring himself closer to the werewolf, seeking the comfort that only this particular werewolf had to offer. However that closeness was impeded by an obscure lumpy package in Sirius' jacket.

"Fuck," Sirius said, more to himself than Remus. "I almost forgot." As Sirius withdrew a paper bag from the inner pocket of his jacket, Remus rested his forehead against the other man's, clearly reluctant to release him now that he'd finally gotten hold of him once more. Thankfully Sirius complied with his demand, planting a further kiss on Remus' lips before placing the package in his hands.

"The muggles don't know there's a war going on, so.. these weren't hard to find. James told me about those muggle supermarkets that are open almost allnight."

Remus parted his gaze from the strangely triumphant expression that played on Sirius' features so as to open the package, and was gobsmacked.

"I promised, didn't I?"

That was the thing about growing up with a family who were eternally disappointed in your every action, loathed you until the day they kicked you out at which point you counted for little more than a scorch mark on the tapestry of the family tree. That was the thing about then being taken in by a family who loved you even though they didn't have to. Sirius Black kept his word. He didn't break a single promise. It was ridiculous but even a simple promise of strawberries didn't go unfulfilled.

Remus smiled despite himself.

"We haven't got the tea. Or the scones and cream for that matter. You missed cream tea by a good few hours, now that I come to think of it."

Sirius grinned. Not the obnoxious grin that had an element of mocking in it. It was a genuine, happy to be home grin. It was that grin which reminded Remus that the sun did in fact rise so long as Sirius continued to grace the world with a grin just like it.

"Remus, do you really have no imagination?"

Far from it. There was something about Sirius that had always compelled Remus to do things he had never considered doing otherwise, most particularly when he hadn't seen Sirius in a considerable amount of time and had spent at least half of that time imagining the worst. Absence most certainly does make the heart grow stronger.

Sirius plucked one of the strawberries from the bag, bringing it to his lips and eating it in a manner so insanely seductive, one which only someone like Sirius could perfect.

"To hell with strawberries," Remus breathed as he rather carelessly placed the bag aside. It thudded to the ground, a few strawberries escaping it and rolling onto the floorboards; they were wholly forgotten the moment Remus brought his lips crashing against Sirius'. Easing Sirius onto his back, Remus kissed him as if there was no tomorrow. In the short space in which Sirius was Merlin-knows-where, that simple notion seemed all too possible to Remus Lupin. To the lone wolf, tomorrow depended solely on today, and whether Sirius Black had lived to see its end.