July 1977
Sirius Black was perched precariously on the stone ledge overlooking the river. Under the night sky, with the valley's warm breath ghosting around him, he felt uncommonly small. Looking up, there were millions of stars dotting the velvet black of the heavens. Around him, aside from the small tent erected under an old, twisted tree, there was nothing but softly-waving grass and black stone mountains for miles. There he sat, just one wizard in the vast, empty space that was the world—one lonely wizard clutching a piece of parchment in his hands, kicking stones into the river and trying not to tear up in frustration.
How dare his parents give him such an ultimatum? He glanced down at the angry, cold, slanted writing of his mother, his eyes following the words once more. Choice phrases stuck out to him, each one a spear sent straight for the heart.
Seventh year is a time to straighten up and fly right.
Thus far, you have not behaved in a way that is fitting to the Black family. We've tolerated your rebellion for years and will do so no longer. You are on the verge of manhood and will behave accordingly from now on.
Your match has been made. When you graduate from Hogwarts, you will be wed to Lysandra Lestrange and propagate the Black family tree by planting your seed and producing an heir.
We've sent a letter to the headmaster demanding you be placed in Slytherin for your last year.
It's time to stop hanging around that lot of pansies you call friends. As Blacks, we do not associate with anyone who supports mudbloods as vehemently as those filthy Gryffindors do.
If you do not come home this instant and conduct yourself as you ought, you will no longer be a member of the noble and most ancient house of Black. This means you will receive no support from our kin—financial, social, or otherwise. With us, you will be something great and powerful. Without us, you will rot in depravity with the rest of your lunatic "friends."
You have no choice but to return home.
Sirius started as a hand came down gently on his shoulder. His fingers dug into the cool stone of the ledge he was perched upon, one hand flying to his chest as he spun around, his heart pounding under his fingers. When he recognized the kind, scarred face of Remus Lupin, he let out a long breath and then cursed.
"Merlin's beard, Remus. Give a bloke a little warning before you sneak up on him like that!"
The words came out harsher than he had intended, and he felt instantly guilty as he watched a frown spread across the handsome features of the werewolf standing behind him.
"I was calling your name the entire way over. What's wrong with you today? You've been tense and hostile and flustered the entire hike. You've been so moody, it hasn't even been fun."
Sirius shoved the parchment in the pocket of his muggle jeans, folding his arms over his chest. He gazed down into the river, trying to let the anger entrenched in his heart die down a bit before he spoke again.
"Why are you awake, anyhow?" he asked flatly, picking at a dried fleck of mud on his thigh.
Remus sat down next to him, tilting his head and gazing at him with some sort of all-knowing intensity. Sirius hated this gaze more than anything, knowing from experience that when the tawny-haired werewolf looked at him like that, everything inside him unravelled and his raw, unpolished emotions poured out.
"Someone in there has been awfully gassy. I'm sure it's not bad when you're asleep, but when you're lying there awake, it's the most awful stench. I tried to kick you to tell you to knock it off, but you weren't there."
Sirius snorted.
"Why do you always assume I'm the gassy one?"
"You always are the gassy one, Padfoot," Remus said knowingly, picking up a small stone and examining it before tossing it into the river.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Sirius gathered his courage and spoke.
"I got a letter from my mum today."
"Oh?" Remus asked. He was trying to sound nonchalant, Sirius was sure, but he could hear the deep, worried undertone hiding there. "What'd it say, then?"
"She hopes I'm having a wonderful time hiking with you lot, and she also briefly noted that you're the most handsome beast she's ever seen. She fancies a shag while you wear her best pair of lacy red knickers, if that's alright by you."
"You're confusing yourself with your mum again." Remus retorted, but he was honestly quite worried. Sirius hated his family more than anything, and a letter from them would certainly be enough to cause his foul mood.
"Cheeky wanker," Sirius said, withdrawing the note and tossing it at Remus. He caught it just before the wind knocked it off the edge of the rocks and into the water.
As Remus read through it, Sirius watched the happiness on his face give way to distress, and then anger. His hand came to his lips and he gnawed gently on the sides of his fingers, an old nervous habit he had never quite managed to kick in times of stress.
"Who do they think they are?" Remus asked incredulously, shaking his head. "They can't order you around like that, Sirius."
"They're my family, Remus. They're rich and used to having everyone under their thumb."
"But are you really going to do that? Are you going to go to Slytherin and marry Lysandra and pop out the requisite 2.5 kids? Sirius, you can do better. You're your own person." Remus' voice was harsh and serious.
"I hope I won't be the one popping out the kids. I imagine that would hurt quite a bit."
Sirius' chuckle was anything but sincere, and they soon lapsed into silence once more.
"You can't leave the Marauders, Sirius…"
When Sirius glanced over once more, he was trying hard to conceal his tears, though in the moonlight, his eyes were glossy with them. Remus' hand came to his shoulder, caressing the tense muscles coiled there.
"I have to," Sirius breathed, sniffing loudly and dragging the back of his hand across his nose.
Remus didn't know what to say. It was painfully obvious that Sirius didn't want to leave Gryffindor and his friends behind for his family's cold, heartless lifestyle. His mind sped through all he knew about Sirius as he tried to come up with something empowering to say, anything that would get him to remain with them. Remus couldn't deal with the thought of Sirius leaving. Without him, they surely wouldn't be the Marauders, and though Moony was soothed each month by the presence of Wormtail and Prongs, it was his play with Padfoot that truly made the time of transformation bearable.
He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the fact that the moon was close and all his emotions seemed so much sharper during the final waxing. Maybe it was because if Sirius left, this odd feeling simply wouldn't matter anymore. The wolf inside him whined in fear and loneliness, and Remus obeyed its strange wish. He leaned in, taking in Sirius' musky scent as his nose touched the smooth, porcelain skin of his cheek. Sirius' lips were hovering there, only a centimetre away, and when Sirius turned his head, Remus' lips crashed softly into the corner of his mouth.
It was over as fast as it had come, but the shocking power of it sent Remus wheeling back with a start, bracing himself against the chilled black slate beneath them as a powerful blush covered his cheeks. He stared down into the river, pretending to be intensely interested in the way the water bent around a fallen trunk. Sirius was staring at him, he knew, with that blank surprised look he got when something completely unexpected happened.
Remus felt a soft pressure against his hand and winced, not daring to look up. When he finally did, he realized Padfoot sat next to him, looking up at him with sad, stone-grey eyes and touching his paw to Remus' hand. It was that moment Remus realized how deeply hurt Sirius was by his family's demands. While he never accepted hugs or other physical forms of comfort as himself, a seventh-year Gryffindor, he commonly allowed them as Padfoot. This, Remus recognized, was his way of letting go, his way of admitting he needed someone to lean on.
"Come here," Remus whispered, holding an arm out to the trembling dog. Padfoot instantly pressed his cheek to Remus' shoulder, his wet nose chilling Remus' neck as he closed his eyes and half-collapsed on him. His harsh whine made Remus' heart pang in grief. He held him in tight, running his fingers through the thick black fur and resting his cheek on the top of Padfoot's head.
"I've got you," he whispered, scratching lightly at the muscular shoulder blades. As Remus slid his hand down to scratch at Padfoot's side, the dog's leg began to twitch. Remus chuckled softly and pressed a kiss between the deep gray eyes. "You're our dog, and we're not going to let anyone take you away."
At this reassurance, Padfoot slumped in his lap and let out a long sigh, followed by a puppy-like whimper. Remus' hands returned to his ears, scratching behind them. Apart from his side, this was Padfoot's favourite spot to be scratched, and Remus smiled as the big black dog nuzzled at the thigh he was lying on. They'd never speak about this during the day, he knew, with James and Peter around, but for now he lived in the moment, his heart thumping hard in his chest.
They remained at the river's edge for a long time. When Remus felt too tired to sit up, he lay down on the cool rocks and Padfoot quickly repositioned himself to lie beside him. As the morning light touched the horizon, Remus dozed off and Padfoot was left pressed to his side, his head lying on Remus' firm chest.
Happy, said the dog voice inside Padfoot's head, and his tail instantly wagged, flopping around on the rocks beneath them. When Remus shifted, Padfoot hesitantly dragged his tongue across the boy's sleep-warmed cheek. Happy.
When Remus awoke, his body was stiff from sleeping upon the flat plane of rock and he was completely alone. At this realization, his stomach filled with a deep, sour dread. Perhaps Sirius had decided to return to his family after all. Perhaps all the unspoken emotion of last night had been nothing more than a tender goodbye...
And just as Remus faltered in his conviction that Sirius would always be a part of his life, he spied the large, dark owl of the Black family perching in a nearby tree, obviously awaiting a response. Its eyes were bright orange in colour, and they flicked slightly back and forth, following movement in the river. Remus stood, groaning as his joints popped in protest. There, beside the thick trunk blocking the river's path, swam Sirius Black. From his wand sprang a stream of bubbles. As Sirius stood, Remus could see the hard lines of his hips and suddenly realized he shouldn't be watching.
He walked toward the tent, following the strong scents of coffee and cooking sausage, musing to himself that it was incredibly odd to use magic in the summer months. It was odd, really, to be seventeen and to be considered adults.
"Where've you been?" asked James disinterestedly as he lounged in one of the gaudy armchairs inside. The tent belonged to his family and was therefore particularly extravagant. "And where is Sirius?"
They both glanced at Peter as he screeched, leaping back from the stove.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "The oil popped."
"I fell asleep outside, near the river," Remus said, stretching once more and wincing at the painfully tense muscles in his back. "Sirius is bathing."
"Did you find out why he's been such a twat lately?" James asked. He crossed the room, gazing in dismay at Peter's slightly-charred sausages as he arranged them on a plate.
"Because my mum just disowned me," came a voice from the open flap of the tent. Remus turned, expectation shining in his eyes as the eagle owl landed on Sirius' waiting arm. The animagus held up a scrap of parchment and didn't hesitate in charming it to the owl's leg. "I don't suppose I could spend the summer with one of you?"
Sirius was shirtless as he approached, still glossy and wet from his bath in the river. As the Marauders stood still in shock, he grabbed a sausage and shoved it in his mouth, devouring it in one bite.
"What?" he asked, little pieces of breakfast spewing forth.
"This is a huge deal, Sirius. You can't just brush it off…" James said incredulously.
"There's not much to think about, really. My mum said I had to join Slytherin, and we all know how greasy and stupid they are. I'd rather hex my bollocks off."
Sirius dug through the trunk at the foot of his bed, sniffing at his shirts until he found one that was tolerably clean. After another moment of pure silence, James cleared his throat.
"My parents won't mind. They're well-off enough to take you in. And they seem to think you're a good influence, for some reason. Near incomprehensible, that. But…"
Sirius smiled his winning, confident Gryffindor smile and ruffled James' hair as he grabbed another sausage from the plate.
"Is he alright?" Peter asked the moment Sirius stepped outside.
Remus worried at his lip and sighed.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, he's anything but alright. You can see it in the way he sets his mouth when he's not talking. But I mean…that's to be expected, right? His family just told him off for being a good person."
"Bloody wankers," James mumbled, nibbling the last sausage. He was thinking hard about Sirius, knowing full well that even though Sirius proclaimed to "bloody hate" his family, he had always hoped to find some spark of good in them. And maybe that spark of good, if found, would reaffirm his burning flame of it. But there was no good to be found in them. Of that, James was certain. It was probably good that they had finally cut him loose, to live a life of his own choosing. He realized that this strength—the strength to stand up for what was right, even to the two people that had given him life—was probably one of the reasons Sirius had made Gryffindor nearly six years ago. That event had started the family's drama. Though James had never told him so, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Sirius was better than they were on all possible levels.
"What do we do?" asked Peter, slumping in a chair that groaned loudly under his weight. "It's Sirius. We've got to help!"
"I know we do, Pete," said James. "I just don't know how yet."
It was just before sunset a week later when the Marauders, panting and sweating from a long uphill hike, reached a large crest and looked upon the next valley. It was laid out before them, its plush green grass stirring in the gentle breeze as the deep pink of the sky extended for miles to touch the peaks of far-off mountains. They stood for a moment, enjoying the breeze in their hair and the sweet taste of victory.
"What is that?" Remus asked suddenly, putting a hand to his brow to dampen the glare of the sun. He peered deep into the mountains across the wide valley, leaning forward. Something was shining, like an old muggle mirror signal, flickering and flashing.
"A light," Peter said as he followed Remus' gaze. "Red."
They watched it for a moment, but Sirius soon whined and tugged on James' sleeve.
"Come on," he urged. "Unless you want to put the tent up in the dark, we really better get down from here and find a place in the valley."
James laughed, shoving him a little.
"You just want to run down the hill. Go, then."
And with that, the Marauders started off down the gently-sloping side of the wide ridge they had spent the better part of the afternoon climbing. Ahead, Peter laughed and ran, racing down the slope with Sirius. When he realized he was losing, Sirius leapt, changing into a huge, shaggy dog in midair and landing solidly on four feet a few yards down. He bounded after Peter and from the following yelps and laughter, Remus could tell Sirius had tackled the boy, pinning him down and waiting for him to say the oft-required "I am a tosser and I wank to photos of my mum in her purple-spotted knickers!" Remus chuckled to himself, not understanding when, with a flash of red, his soft sounds of laughter turned to a sharp, piercing shriek. After that, nothing existed but the searing pain flooding through every inch of him. The valley was gone and the Marauders were gone—even his breath was gone—and he was alone, feeling an agony unlike anything he had ever known.
Remus fell to the grass, sliding down the incline until he slammed to a stop against a tree trunk, writhing and thrashing there as he screamed. The Marauders were there instantly, Sirius shoving past the others and cupping Remus' cheeks.
"Talk to me, Moony. What happened?" he demanded roughly, doing his best to hold the thrashing boy down.
James pressed a hand to Remus' mouth, sealing off the scream as best he could.
"That light," James hissed. "It must've been a hex or something. I think it's hit him. Fuck, he's burning up."
Remus' fists were clenched in the grass and when Peter finally pulled them free, they clawed at everything they could find—the ground and the tree and Sirius' arms.
"This isn't normal," Peter cried, trying to hold Remus' arms down. "Don't we know anything to stop it?"
James was already at it, trying every counter-hex he knew, but nothing calmed the screaming boy. They had all seen Remus in pain before, but this was a thousand times worse.
"More," Sirius said, pointing across the wide valley at a series of red and green lights. "We need to get out of here. We need to get him to Dumbledore. Now."
"Make it stop!" Remus screamed when James' hand let up. His voice was harsh and pleading, and it tore at Sirius' heart just as Remus' hands were tearing at the flesh of his arms, drawing angry red lines of blood.
"Come here," Sirius demanded, yanking him up. Remus was sobbing, choking on his own sounds, but he listened, clutching Sirius tight around the waist and digging his nails into the loose robes that hung on the thin frame. When they had torn through the fabric, they found skin. "We're going to apparate, alright, Mate? We can do it. Just hold on."
But suddenly there, in front of them, stood a dark-robed figure. In an instant, Sirius fiercely gripped Remus to his chest, drew his wand, and shouted a hundred hexes at the menacing figure—every single hex or curse he knew that could cause pain or harm. Before a second had ticked past, James and Peter had drawn their wands and were doing the same.
The piercing screams had not stopped, and they punctuated the battle. By some stroke of luck, or powerful magic, the hooded figure managed to dodge every hex. He flung a few of his own, one of them striking Peter square in the chest and knocking him over. A growl sounded in James' throat and he retaliated with a harshly-cried, "Stupefy!"
The curse found its mark and the figure fell, collapsing into the grass. Instantly, James darted to Peter, counteracting the body bind hex that had hit him.
"Go!" James shouted, waving a hand at Sirius. "Hogsmead. We're right behind you."
Sirius crashed to a halt in front of the Three Broomsticks, still clinging to Remus. The sound of the screams drew a crowd of witches and wizards that flooded quickly from the door of the tavern, a chorus of mumbles roaring in speculation.
"Stop it!" Sirius yelled. "Make it stop!"
In an instant, the screams were quelled and Remus fell limp. Sirius staggered under his weight as consciousness left him, and they fell to the ground together, the black-haired boy overwhelmed by how young and scared he felt. He sobbed now, clutching the unconscious werewolf close to him, his body finally reacting to the terror of the event.
The crowd parted as a figure came forward, and Dumbledore himself stepped up to the pair. In an instant, James and Peter appeared and the resulting pop echoed around the streets that had fallen deadly silent, save for Sirius' choking sobs. Dumbledore crouched down, pressing a wrinkled hand to Remus' forehead and, finding no evidence of fever, he clasped Sirius' shoulder and shook him lightly.
"He'll be alright, Mr. Black. Let's get you four into the pub, now. You need to tell us what happened."
His voice was calm and firm, and it soothed Sirius to hear the reassurance. Tugging Remus with him, he reluctantly stood.
Inside the pub, Dumbledore escorted them to a private room in the rear of the building, where a large fire was blazing. A small amount of smooth, aged firewhiskey was poured for each of the boys and a quick wave of it under Remus' nose woke him from his slumber. He hovered close to his friends, pale-faced and shaking.
"You have obviously been through a great ordeal tonight," said Dumbledore, sitting on the thick carpet near the fire. "You may take your time to speak, but you must tell what has happened."
"Highlands," Remus whispered, his eyes fluttering shut with the effort of speaking. Peter set a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
"We were on vacation, Sir," Peter said softly after a moment of silence. He felt nervous that no one else was willing to take the lead. "We were hiking the highlands, camping in James' tent at night. We saw a light, a red one, far off, near the mountains. We were curious but left it alone. It was too far. It must've been a spell, though. It hit Remus?" His tone was questioning, as if he were just fitting the pieces together. "He started wailing something awful, and then there was a wizard, all in black. We fought…"
Silence fell heavy on the group and Peter pulled timidly at the liquid in his glass. Dumbledore's eyes were hard and far away for a moment before he cleared his throat and came back to them.
"Since you've been involved, I do suppose it's time to fill you in on what is building. A war is coming, the likes of which has scarcely been seen in the wizarding world. There is a very evil wizard who fancies himself a lord of darkness. He is rallying behind the veil of pureblood supremacy, gathering a group of wizards with similar inclinations in a militia of sorts. Their goal is simple: eradicate every witch and wizard with muggle blood, so that only the pure-blood wizards remain. Their hearts are full of evil, and they are willing to take as many lives as necessary to purify the bloodline.
"Their followers dress all in black, with hoods hiding their identities. I am almost certain it was one of these you met tonight. We have had many from our side document their increasing presence here in Scotland, and it would be particularly helpful if you could help us pinpoint their location, once the terror wears off."
"What happened to me?" Remus mumbled, pain shooting through him as he shifted.
"A curse—one of the unforgiveable curses, the use of which is a one-way ticket to Azkaban. The Ministry expressly forbids their being taught at Hogwarts. This curse was not meant for you, Remus. Of that, I am certain. It was one of torture that brings its victim to the edge of death, but never grants him the peace of oblivion. And this continues until someone calls it off, which is why you found no rest until your friends brought you here."
The silence was thick and foreboding.
"You said, Sir, that there is a coming war. You spoke briefly of 'our side.' Does that mean there is a force opposing the Dark Lord?" James asked, leaning forward.
"Yes, there is an ever-growing organization of witches and wizards in opposition to these ideas. I cannot say more, as I'm sure you understand."
James sat back, nursing his drink and thinking. Looking back on the evening much later, he would realize it was the last of his childhood.
"Might we join?" he asked, his voice resolute.
Dumbledore gave him a kind look, but his voice was grave as he spoke.
"You and your friends are headstrong, Mr. Potter, but you are still lacking in important life experience. While you are my students, though not for much longer, it is my job and utmost desire to keep you free from peril, especially the mortal variety of which you would constantly be part if you were to join our forces. When it is up to you, and you are no longer under my care as headmaster, you may join as you please. But be advised…" he finished, leaning in to examine Remus' wound, "this curse only grazed your friend. You see here, on his ear, the tiniest scratch. Had it been a direct hit…" Dumbledore shook his head, standing. "At any rate, lads, I don't soon think you'll be ready to let battles like this define your existence. For now, take your rest at the castle. Madam Pomfrey has been alerted and will soon be here to collect you."
Dumbledore moved to the door before turning back to face them.
"You have all behaved in a manner truly fitting to Gryffindors. Fifty house points for each of you."
The hospital wing was dark and silent, save for Peter's impossibly loud snores, and James lay awake, thinking.
He had never taken much time to contemplate what he'd be doing after Hogwarts. Quidditch scouts had taken a vague interest in his abilities as a Chaser, and he had for a while hoped he would make it as an alternate for a league team. Even the Chudley Canons would have done. He had spoken briefly with Sirius about getting a flat together and bringing home a plethora of women; that is, if Lily Evans still wouldn't have him by then.
But that seemed far away now, like a child's fantasy. The reality was, there was a war building, and though he knew a capable, strong, and experienced group of wizards were coming together to fight it, he could not stand idly by as his muggle-born friends paid the price. With a deep pang, he realized that Lily, the most capable witch he knew, was muggle-born. Remus was a half-blood and a werewolf to boot, and when the building evil forces realized that, he would certainly be exterminated. Nearly everyone he knew would be harmed. Though he would most likely live, many of them had the potential to perish. Not fighting, not joining up with Dumbledore, would be selfish. His parents had certainly raised him better than that, not only to know the difference between right and wrong, but to have the courage to stand up for what was right, even if it was dangerous. When the opportunity came, he concluded, he would join Dumbledore's side and fight alongside the others, regardless of the consequences.
Remus awoke to soft pressure at the foot of his hospital bed. He was drowsy from the potion Madame Pomfrey had given him, but his body was still in a heightened state of alert, waking him at every small change in his surroundings.
"How are you feeling?" came a soft, worried voice.
"Like I got hit by a train," Remus mumbled through the haze of the potion.
Sirius slid up, moving into his line of sight, and gazed down at him for a moment.
"Is the potion helping?" he asked.
Remus' eyes fluttered closed. He could smell the thin, weedy scent of a healing balm emanating from Sirius' body and felt instantly guilty for the damage he had done to his friend.
"I think I'm high. I feel really loopy."
"Well, that's probably for the best, then," Sirius said with a soft snort. "Know where I could nick some of that potion?"
The silence hung around them like the thick hospital curtains for a moment before Remus rolled to his side.
"I wish I was a dog," he sighed, his eyes still closed.
"Why?"
"Because then I could lie in your lap and you could hug me and scratch me and tell me everything was going to be alright."
Sirius looked away for a moment, listening to the far-off snores of James and Peter. When he looked back, Remus' golden eyes were open and looking up at him. He distinctly remembered the night a week ago when Remus had held him. It was understandable, having been through such a traumatic and painful experience, that Remus wanted comfort.
"If you want a hug, you only need to ask."
Remus snorted, his sore body quaking with laughter.
"You're Sirius Black. You don't hug."
"I don't know who I am, to be honest. I'm not a Black anymore. I'm just your mate Sirius now, a bloke that doesn't want you to be alone after something so awful."
He reached out slowly and enveloped the tawny-haired werewolf in his arms. Remus couldn't explain the way his heart was suddenly pounding against his too-tight ribs.
"Life is changing," Remus mumbled into the thin fabric of the muggle shirt covering Sirius' shoulder.
"Scary, eh?" Sirius asked. "We're growing up and getting hit by unforgivable curses and getting disowned by our families. But we're still the Marauders. Nothing could possibly change that."
"Are you going with James, after Hogwarts? Are you going to join Dumbledore and pick fights with dark wizards?"
Sirius' mouth set in a firm line. Feeling him tense, Remus leaned back and looked into his eyes. They were steel gray, dark and stormy, and it took a few moments for Remus' muddled brain to work through the information and process an explanation for Sirius' reaction.
"You'd have to hurt some of them…" he mumbled when the realization dawned on him. "Your family. You'd have to dual and probably kill some of them if you joined Dumbledore."
"They're bad people," Sirius said firmly, looking up into Remus' eyes. "I don't doubt it was one of their lot that cast the curse that hit you tonight. I won't stand for them harming my friends. Especially you."
Sirius' brought his hands gently to Remus' cheek and turned his head to get a better look at the small wound on his ear. It had already turned into one of the shining pink scars that adorned his body so thoroughly and, pleased at its state of healing, Sirius loosened his grip. Remus turned his head back, admiring the strange new look in Sirius' eyes and the way his skin was humming with anticipation under those smooth, long-fingered hands. A moment of understanding passed between them then, as amber eyes met gray. They both stared for a moment, frozen by a simultaneous realization that as life was changing around them, they too were changing. The nature of their friendship was shifting into something new and unexplored.
Tenuously, Remus leaned up a little, tilting his head slightly and looking at his best mate with shining, curious eyes. He could feel a slight tremble in the hand on his cheek, could feel Sirius' shaky breath on his lips as some invisible force drew them closer. Their noses bumped softly together then and Remus both heard and felt the barely-audible "fuck" that Sirius mumbled under his breath. The air was electric as each held off making the move that would change their friendship, trying to ignore the hearts racing in their chests and the nervous sweat making their palms damp.
Their lips bumped together timidly, more a delicate exploration of flesh on flesh than a proper snog. Remus let out a soft gasp of surprise, his grip on Sirius' free hand tightening as the touch of Sirius' mouth hardened into a kiss that was firm and undeniably real. They both instinctively leaned in closer as timid exploration gave way to the expression of a gentle but determined passion. His lower lip was caught between Sirius' and one of those familiar hands was tangled softly in his hair, holding him in.
It was over before Remus truly realized what was happening. He cursed the potion Madam Pomfrey had given him and the way it made his head thicker than the porridge he often had for breakfast.
"Wait," Remus mumbled, catching Sirius by the wrist as he made to move away.
Those gray eyes were trained on him, some unreadable intensity burning there that he didn't recognize whatsoever.
"We'll talk in the morning, okay?" Sirius said, his smooth voice shaking. When Remus' face fell into that dejected, worried look he carried all too frequently, Sirius leaned in and touched his cheek reassuringly once more. "I promise."
With that last, fleeting touch, Sirius turned on his heel and disappeared with the soft flutter of hospital curtains. Remus lay back, closing his eyes and swallowing.
"What in Merlin's name just happened?" he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. The wolf inside him paced with unease as he fell into a light, dreamless sleep.
"Good morning, there, Remus," said a strong, familiar voice as Remus blinked his eyes open. The bright morning light momentarily blinded him, but he didn't need to see to identify the visitor. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, Dad. Really. You didn't need to come," he mumbled, stretching his limbs.
"You could have been killed last night," Mr. Lupin said firmly, pressing a hand to his son's forehead. "Of course I needed to come. Your mother wouldn't stop crying until I did."
Remus frowned.
"We were just camping," he said. "I didn't mean to get in trouble. Trouble just...finds me."
Mr. Lupin chuckled.
"It has ever since you were young, hasn't it? Your friends told me about your night before they left."
"Left?" Remus asked immediately, sitting up and shoving the pastel hospital sheets away from him. He stood, flinging back the curtains that had been drawn around his bed. There was no one in sight.
When he turned back, his father's eyebrows were raised in question.
"I...er...needed to talk to Sirius about something," he mumbled.
"Well, he left this for you," Mr. Lupin said, drawing a bound scrap of parchment from the pocket of his robes.
Remus snatched it up.
R -
Pomfrey insisted that we leave. I'm sorry.
I'll be round at James'. You can find me there.
-S
With a sigh of dismay, he tugged his cloak around his shoulders and followed his father toward the exit.