I've wanted to write this for years, but it took a long and boring hospital stay to finally get me back in the fanfiction groove. As always, I don't own any of the characters or concepts. M rating for later in the story. I'll keep this updated frequently. Thanks for reading! :-)

From the vantage of their fourth floor flat, wizarding London was a sea of black pointed hats. Ever the watcher, Remus Lupin leaned against the window, half hidden behind the burgundy curtains. On the cobbled street below, a man carried a covered cage which periodically emitted a few disconcerting puffs of fire, and a matron led a group of six young wizards, orderly as baby ducklings. He could see two lovers embracing under a lamp, the light turning the surrounding mist into a lovely amber haze.

Remus used the back of his hand to clear the fog from the window. He took another sip of whiskey as he watched the lovers with a detached, almost paternal, approval. The scene below complemented his Scotch, a 50-year-old single malt from a small Speyside distillery. He felt pretentious even saying that. He never could have afforded the whiskey, but Sirius had given him a crate of it during a mad purge of his parents's wine cellar.

Remus finished his drink when he saw a bobbing red dot weave through the black pointed hats. His girlfriend had little patience for frivolities, much preferring warm wool caps to dainty concoctions, but she pretended to enjoy the crimson beret he'd given her as a birthday gift. From his current vantage, he could see only the interlacing stitching of the hat's top, not the diminutive witch under it. When the hat neared the entrance to their building, Remus left his perch and moved to the kitchen to watch his glass.

She joined him less than a minute later, cheeks flushed from the evening chill. She peeled off her gloves and darted under his shirt, pressing her frozen hands against his bare back. He laughed silently and just kissed her cold lips. Autumn used to be Remus's favorite season. Until he fell in love with a woman with horrible circulation, a woman who relied on sex and incessant cuddling to stay warm. Then Remus started to see the advantages of winter.

Dora gave him a quick squeeze and then, with a smile, broke the embrace. She leaned against the doorframe and attempted to untangle her long scarf from her travelling cloak. "I know you've already broken into the celebratory whiskey stash- No, don't deny it, you tasted like barley when I kissed you- but I need tea. Put the kettle on, hon. It's been a long day."

Remus stretched out on the sofa, arranging a few pillows to better support his lanky frame. While the mug of tea steamed unnoticed by her elbow, Tonks scanned over a few messages an owl had dropped off in her absence.

"How was the day off?" She asked him, eyes never leaving a letter from her mother.

"Bit dull. I finished the housework before I'd even had a proper breakfast. Oh, and I read the newspaper for the first time in three months."

"Something besides a long Muggle novel? I'm impressed."

"Well I ended up with a long Muggle novel eventually. Got too pissed off at the newspaper. I mean, it's better than last year, when they were smearing Harry and Dumbledore. But there are only a handful of real journalists left in Wizarding Britain, and none of them work for the Prophet."

"Be a bit more subtle with your compliments, dear."

Her tone was even, but she had to take a deep drink of tea to hide the growing smile. Nymphadora Tonks held one of the most coveted bylines in Britain, chief political correspondent for Merlin's Attic, a subversive radical journal often described as all the nonconformity of The Quibbler mixed with a dose of sanity and actual respect. Though blacklisted last year, Dora had returned to work with a vengeance, publishing dozens of articles that eviscerated the corrupt political and judicial system.

Remus turned his mug in his hand, watching the patterns of the tea leaves. "It's… um… it's been three days since Dumbledore gave me a job. No nice spot of sabotage, no person he wants killed."

"Think you're losing your touch?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "I don't think he's lost faith in me. But we're in a full-out war and he hasn't sent me on any raids. No, I'm worried he's giving me a break before he hits me with something dangerous and highly unpleasant."

She set her lukewarm tea to boiling again with a quick tap of her wand. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear and moved toward Remus.

"I saw Sirius today."

His face did not change, but his spine grew rigid. Remus set his teacup aside and leaned forward, muscles trilling.

"How?" His tone was flat, more a statement than a question.

"I was interviewing Kingsley for a piece on Auror recruitment tactics. You know he visits Sirius once a week? In theory to interrogate him, actually to keep him from going insane in solitary confinement."

"I know," Remus said roughly.

"Well he brought me along today. He's Kingsley Shacklebolt, no one's gonna question him. Ever since the battle in the Department of Mysteries-"

"How is he?"

Tonks knew he wasn't talking about Kingsley.

"It isn't Azkaban. Small blessing, I know, but they'd never put him back in a facility he's already broken out of. A prison in the Hebrides is grim, but it isn't Azkaban."

"How is he?" Remus repeated in the same tone.

"He looks like shit. He's got the ragged hair and beard again. Hasn't been sleeping much."

"He never sleeps much."

"Remus, this is worse than usual. He looks haunted again."

"Is he being….mistreated?"

"The other prisoners worship him, the guards fear him. He screams in his sleep, still, but that just reminds the other inmates that's hard, that he survived Azkaban. For now. If he keeps having nightmares like that, they might reconsider. See him as weak. And then…"

Remus forced down the painful thought. "Did he have any… any messages?"

"There were other guards in the room, he couldn't talk freely. Had to act deranged, which he did quite poorly."

Remus covered his face, his fingers, as always, unconsciously lining up with his scars. "I'll talk to Dumbledore. We have to get him out." He cut his girlfriend off as she moved to speak. "I know the risks, physical and political. But we can't just sit here while Padfoot rots in prison! Again!"

She crossed her legs. "You think I don't feel the same way? He's my family. But Remus, even if we freed him, we still have enemies in the Ministry, people who know the truth about Sirius. They're looking for any excuse to take us out the fight, and a prison sentence for aiding a fugitive would fit the bill."

He massaged his temples. "Dumbledore wants a meeting tomorrow. I'll use Sirius to bargain. His freedom as the price of my cooperation on… I don't know what. Whatever mad scheme he's dreamt up."

Dora joined him on the sofa. She placed her head in the usual nook between his neck and shoulder, their perfect fit.

"That's tomorrow. Tonight I just need to forget."

She unbuttoned his shirt, her touch so delicate he didn't notice until her hand was already exploring him.