A/N: A while in the making, I only hope it was worth the wait. And a great deal of thanks to deadlyninjabee for making my day with a wonderful review for 'Never a Glimmer of You'

Disclaimer: The Marauders, Tonks and the marvellous discovery skills attributed to Hufflepuff house are the property of Ms. J. K. Rowling, Sellotape that of Messrs Colin Kininmonth and George Gray.

Sellotape

"Remus?" His mother, resplendent in marigolds and a hairnet, was standing sheepishly in the doorway, her pink polka dot dress splashed with soapsuds. "Darling, I've forgotten to wrap Cecily's present, and your father wants it taking round when he comes back. Would you, sweetheart, I'm a little, well you know," she smiled at him. "Soggy."

Remus put down his book, the spine creaking as he laid it open over the armrest. "Of course I will."

"You always do it so neatly, darling." His mother ushered him into the kitchen, rummaging in the draw for the sellotape. "Here you are. It's the little set of doll's clothes on the table. You can use the paper from under the stairs."

Remus smiled, bowing his head as he slid into the spindly chair. He liked sellotape, liked the zip as he tore it off in strips, snipping at it with the flowery kitchen scissors. He liked the finality, laying the last piece down and sealing the present for good. He'd got quite quick at wrapping now, making firm, straight folds in the paper. His mother, scatterbrained and haphazard, always made a bit of a mess. Not that Remus minded; he just liked to do things properly.

"Here, sweetheart," his mother passed him the sellotape, waving her free hand toward his trunk, painted nails glistening in the flood of sunlight streaming through his window. "Your father says I'm silly but I'm sure there's some things even magic can't fix." She smiled at him, and Remus smiled back anxiously.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Of course I will," she laughed quietly, running her fingertips over his cheek. "I'll have Minnie to talk to, won't I Minnie?" She smiled down at the cat, curled up and bathing in the autumn sun.
"Minnie's the cat, mum."

"I know that darling." She patted Remus' head gently and smiled indulgently at him. "Do promise you'll write."

"I promise, mum." Remus glanced up at her, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He was scared, scared they'd run too. Scared even Hogwarts wouldn't want him, but he couldn't tell her that. She'd just worry.

"Remus!" His father boomed up the stairs. "Come on, lad!"

"Go on, dear." His mother kissed him lightly on the cheek, and watched as he shut the lid on his trunk.

"I'll see you at Christmas, mum."

"Be a good boy, darling."

Remus didn't have much in the way of belongings, but he did have his photographs, so while everyone else sat in the common room, munching on the pumpkin pie two gangly ginger twins had stolen from the feast, Remus sat on his bed, ripping sellotape in strips to stick them to his little piece of burgundy wall.

He'd finally found the holiday snap from Lime Regis, the one in which his mother and father were sat on that bench over looking the sea when the door banged open and a trunk juddered into the room and flopped onto another bed. It was followed by a dark haired boy, who bounded up the stairs with all the grace of a Russian ballet dancer.

"Hello."

He was frightfully posh, and Remus eyed him warily, caught midway through taping the photo above his headboard. "Hello."

"Sirius Black." The boy wandered over, extending a hand. He was startlingly handsome, his hair cropped, skin the colour of alabaster. He seemed to be utterly free of the spots that were already erupting from Remus' pores.

Remus took it, letting the photo dangle precariously from its one sellotape anchor. "Remus Lupin."

"Pleasure." Sirius smiled, and glanced at the photographs and frowned. "Why don't they move?"

"Pardon?"

"Move? The photos? They don't move."

Remus' brow furrowed and then he remembered the few, tattered pictures his father kept in his study and realised that here, snapshots were certainly not frozen. "Oh, I took them. I've only got a…" he stumbled over the word, "Muggle camera."

"Oh." Sirius chewed the inside of his cheek. "What's that?"

"This?" Remus twisted the sellotape in his hands, feeling like he'd been caught doing something naughty. "It's sticky tape."

"Why not just use a sticking charm?" Sirius flicked out his wand and pointed it at the dangling picture of Lime Regis beach and said something Remus didn't catch. The photo righted itself instantly.

"We didn't at home. Mum doesn't agree with Dad using magic around the house. She thinks it upsets the feng shui." Remus grimaced, realising he was babbling.

"The what?" Sirius was looking more and more confused.

"The – oh I don't know," Remus shook his head. "Anyway, I'd rather do it like this, if you don't mind."

Sirius shrugged, clearly glad to be spared an explanation of 'feng shui' by this strange, skinny half blood boy. "Course." He left Remus, and crossed to his own case, and for a while there was silence. "Remus?"

"Yes?" Remus glanced up from the last picture, his late grandmother on her 90th birthday.

"Could I borrow some of that…tape?" Sirius was holding up a sketch of a young, dark haired boy on a roll of parchment.

"I thought you could, you know, use magic?" Remus fidgeted with the roll, sure Sirius was only asking to taunt him.

"Your way looks more fun." Sirius held out his hand. "Chuck it over?"

"Of course." Remus smiled timidly and Sirius smiled back.

"Thanks Rem."

"I honestly can't believe that." James was lounging in an armchair by the fire, a grin plastered across his face. "Her face, Pads! You'd think we'd told her Voldemort was onto a cracker or something!"

Sirius laughed, cradling a bottle of fire whiskey in his long fingers. "Turns out McGonagall's not into Niffers after all, Moons."

"I assume Finch's Trophy Room will be shining by the end of the week then?" Remus, engrossed in sellotaping the cover back on Peter's dog-eared copy of 'Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them', didn't even bother to glance up his friends.

"Humph." James scrunched up a draft of his potions homework and lobbed it at the fire. "You never appreciate a good prank, Moony."

"Nah," Sirius was smiling at Remus, "Leave him Jamie, he's got the Muggle tape out."

"Great," James muttered, staring out of the window into the darkening grounds. "More DIY Lupin style." He got up, holding a hand out for the bottle. "Give us some, Pads."

"Fuck off," Sirius sheltered the bottle protectively. "I pilfered, I get plastered off."

"Wanker," James grumbled and headed for the door, huffily flicking his Invisibility Cloak from his bag. "I'm off. Night shithead. Night Moons."

"Night Jamie darling." Sirius drawled, and upturned the bottle. "Bloody empty anyway."

"The house elves cottoned on then?" Remus glanced up at Sirius, sprawled on the Common Room floor, and had to smile.

"Nah," Sirius pushed the bottle toward the door. "Bet Wormy's been at it."

"Someone'll trip over that."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered, "Jamie. God blast his black little soul. He's so bloody obsessed with Evans. I've had it up to fucking here," he clunked a hand against his forehead. "Nothing for laughs anymore. Dunno why he's fucking bothering. She's never gonna cave."

"She's alright you know." Remus had finally finished and laid the sellotape down.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow sceptically. "Well I wish she's shag him and end this bloody farce."

Remus rolled his eyes, and made for the stairs, but Sirius caught his hand. "Stay up with me, Remy. I haven't seen you all week."

"I'm tired Sirius."

"Please?" Sirius patted the space next to him. "Don't make me wheel out the puppy eyes."

Remus sighed, and lowered himself down onto the carpet. "Merlin help me," he muttered. "I wish I could sellotape your eyes shut."

"You wanker. You goddamn idiot." Remus collapsed into the chair next to Sirius' bed, the cloying, disinfectant reek of St Thomas' stinging his nostrils. "What the fucking hell did you do that for?"

Sirius cracked open his good eye. The other was black and yellow and competing for first prize at a puffer fish convention. "Morning Moons."

"You really are a first rate wanker. You know that?"

"Well, it is one of my better attributes."

"Oh shut up Sirius. I've spent the night shitting myself. Your attempts to be funny are not what I need."

Sirius stared at him but Remus forced himself to look else where for as long as possible before he glanced at Sirius' slashed face. There was dried blood at the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip swollen grotesquely, and a thick swathe of bandage cutting through his dark hair.

"It's not your best look," he muttered finally.

"Yeah, I gathered that," Sirius tried to smile, but winced and went back to staring impassively at his friend. "You got any of that sellotape left, Rem?"

"Why?" Remus sighed, passing a weary hand across his forehead.

"Cos you could patch me up. Don't think much of the Muggles to be honest. The bloke with the moustache keeps tutting at us."

Remus laughed despite himself. "Think it might have been my entrance."

"No shit?"

Remus reached for Sirius' hand, closing around it and feeling the rough fabric of the bandage rub against his palm. "You're still a stupid fucker. And I haven't forgiven you."

"Bedside sympathy by Mr R. Lupin. You should write a book, Rem."

They were still for a moment and then Remus turned and smiled, his golden eyes glistening. "I love you, Pads."

"Love you too, Moons. Now get me that bloody sellotape, the abattoir look's not in this season."

Remus stood in 12 Grimmauld Place's grimy kitchen, stirring a mug of coffee. The room was blissfully cool after the baking heat of the pavement, and as he reached for the sugar he winced as his coarse shirt grazed a patch of sunburn. The door creaked and Remus didn't need to turn around to know it was Sirius.

"Hey Rem." A chair scraped, Sirius lounging in his usual fashion. He looked better, clean shaven, his hair tied lazily back. There was still that haggard air lingering round him, the occasional edginess, the nervous twitches but he looked (and Remus smiled as he thought it) he looked good.

Remus sat down opposite him, sipping at his coffee. "You seem better this morning."

"I feel it." Sirius shrugged, "I've decided something."

"What?" Remus humoured him, watching as Sirius leant back and tipped his chair onto two legs, a strange smile hovering about his lips.

"I want you back."

"I thought we'd discussed this." Remus sighed, and looked away. He had tried to resist, but one raucous night in Mumbai and he'd come undone, the feral cry from his sex starved brain dismissing his head and his heart the moment Sirius' lips had pressed against his, his erection digging into his thigh. It had ended messily the moment they'd stepped from the plane onto British soil. The past was for desperate, longing recollection, only to be reignited in far flung foreign cities. England was not the place for it.

"I'm alright now." Sirius dismissed the nightmares, the screaming, the violence with a wave of his hand. "I want us to go back to how we were."

"We can't," Remus wouldn't look at him. "It was too long ago."

"You didn't seem to care in Mumbai."

"That was different."

"How was it different?" Sirius smiled, and reached across the table for Remus' hand. "I didn't stop loving you, Rem. Look at me," he murmured and Remus had to, swallowing thickly. "Tell me you don't want it back. Tell you don't love me back."

"I can't…I…I don't know." Remus shook his head desperately. "It just seems so selfish."

Sirius drew his hands away, and Remus' breath caught in his throat, but he had gone for his pocket and pulled out a large ring of familiar tape. "We," he murmured, "Are just another thing that needs fixing. Here," he slid the sellotape across the table, and Remus caught it with trembling hands. "And you were always good at fixing things."

Remus climbed up the stairs feeling as though he would fall through the floorboards at any moment. The gods, he was sure, were not so cruel as to leave him to survive this. Any moment, something awful would happen and he would wake him as he had that morning, full of sleep and in Sirius' arms. The landing creaked, but didn't give. He nearly cried when he pushed the door to their room open. Sirius lounged in every corner, the purveyor of the tangle the sheets had got into, the instigator of the mess and the chaos, even the photos stuck haphazardly to the walls.

He sunk down onto the bed, only to find he was sitting on something.

It was a roll of sellotape, note attached.

Rem, it said, in messy, slanting handwriting that caused Remus' heart to jump. You've spent your whole life fixing other people, I think its time you fixed yourself. I love you, you stupid bugger, I always have.

Remus clenched his fist around the roll as the first of a river of tears slipped from the end of his nose. He choked on a sob, clutching at the tattered piece of parchment and glanced down, desperate for anything more and noticed a tear blotted postscript.

Good luck finding the end of the roll. Ask Tonks. Hufflepuffs are good finders. Pads.