"We're getting too old for this."

Remus blinked, taken back at the blunt statement. "What?"

"For this! You can't just waltz into my bed every time you have a bad dream!"

Again, the werewolf blinked, unsure of what to say. So it had finally come to this. Sirius had finally figured out that it was strange for two friends to sleep together on a regular basis without a scrap of romantic involvement. And now that he had realized it, the other boy was kicking him out of his bed in fear that Remus was some sort of freak, and wanted his body.

That was entirely untrue, of course, but he wasn't about to let on that he had any such feelings. "I suppose…" he finally started, voice wavering a bit. "I mean, of course it isn't natural. I should get a better grip on myself. After all, you won't always be there to hold my hand every time I get scared, and –"

His word vomiting was ceased by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Moony," Sirius interjected sharply. "I never said I wouldn't be here for you. I'm always here for you." He raised his eyebrows, as if checking to see if the other boy understood. "No matter what. Life or death."

But not how I want you to be. Remus nodded mutely, offering a smile. "Right." His eyes betrayed his unease, but he wouldn't allow Sirius to see it. He turned, and the Black's hand fell from his shoulder as he shuffled back to his own bed. Luckily, their little show hadn't woken any of the other occupants of the dormitory, and thus he was saved from embarrassment. "Night then," he called lightly as he crawled into the four poster, drawing the curtain closed tightly.

Sirius frowned, but laid back, leaving his curtain open a crack so he could see the other's bed. It was for the best, right?

It had started two years ago, just one year after he had discovered his friend's 'furry little problem'. It was one night, after a particularly bad full moon, when Remus had first come to him in the night, slipping inside his bed and drawing the curtain closed. When he'd asked what was wrong, the boy had told him that he'd had a nightmare.

Of course, being the caring friend that he was, Sirius had scooted over and allowed Remus to sleep with him that night. He'd thought it would just be a one night thing, but soon, the other boy had come to him again, and then again the next week. It had become a weekly ritual with them, the werewolf coming to him at least twice a week. They were in their fifth year now, and Sirius had finally decided that it needed to stop.

The animagus closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep. It was some two hours before he finally drifted off into a light, uneasy slumber.

-o-o-

Remus awoke the next morning, feeling sore and not rested at all. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, crusty from the way he'd cried himself to sleep the night before, just like a small child would've. They were itching, and probably swollen. He'd have to avoid James and Sirius – or mainly just Sirius; James wasn't that observant – until they cleared up. He didn't want anyone to be too concerned. After all, it was just the ending of a phase in his life that needed to be severed.

After giving himself a short period for preparation, the Gryffindor drew back the curtains and slid out of bed, not looking in the direction of his neighbor, though he knew Sirius would not be awake yet. It was far too early for the animagus to be up and about. He reached into his trunk and pulled on a clean shirt and pants, thankful that it was Saturday and he wouldn't have to go to any classes.

He gave himself a once-over in the full length mirror that hung on the wall before climbing down the stairs into the common room. As usual, this early on a Saturday morning, it was deserted. A smile flitted across his face momentarily, but it was gone soon after, leaving not a trace that it had even existed. The boy journeyed over to the fireplace, poking at the ashes with an iron poker until he got a small flame going.

Despite being a wizard, Remus found that he liked the Muggle way of life much better in some cases. There were some times when he wished that he hadn't been born into the family that he had been… There would be no monthly transformations, no prejudices against him, and he would be studying at some school in London to succeed in a field of Muggle work.

But then, these kinds of thoughts always led him to one thing. If he wasn't a wizard, if none of this had ever happened, he would have never met the one star in his life, Sirius Black. That alone was enough to keep him content the way he was, flawed though he was.

He stared into the fireplace for a long while, getting lost easily in the twisting dance of the flames, and he was glad to do it. He loved moments like this, when he could just lose himself completely and not think about anything at all. Nothing, at least, until he heard the scuffle of feet above him, signifying that people were waking up. Abruptly, he stood, not wanting to be seen, lest his eyes betray him like they seemed to enjoy doing.

The werewolf made a hasty exit out the portrait hole, and made his way down, not to the Great Hall, but to the kitchens. He stood before the portrait, hesitant. What if his friends worried about him? They'll probably just assume that I skipped breakfast to be at the library. It wasn't too uncommon from him to do such a thing… Remus stuck a hand forward and tickled the pear lightly, causing it to squirm momentarily before swinging open to allow him passage.

Upon entry, Remus was promptly assaulted by a series of strong smells, which put an instant smile upon his face, despite the inner turmoil he was facing. The kitchens, unseen by most of the students, was one of the most comforting places to be. The House Elves didn't seem to care what you did down there, as long as you weren't being destructive. And what was more, they would feed you and house you, and not breathe a word of your presence to anyone on the outside.

"Gabby," he called softly, and was answered by a surprised squeak and a scuffling of feet as a small, pink-ish elf hurried over to him.

"Master Lupin!" she chirped, dusting her floury hands off on her dirty pillowcase. "Gabby is sorry that she didn't hear you come in! She was making pasties."

"Not to worry," he chided carefully. "But could you direct me towards a place where I wouldn't be in the way if I stayed a while?" He, unlike some other students he knew, was nice to the little creatures. They were never anything but nice to him, and he didn't see why he couldn't return the favor. After all, it was just a proper thing to do.

"Oh, yes sir!" A stubby little finger pointed off towards the far wall. "If Master Lupin will sit over there, Gabby will bring him some breakfast!" Without waiting for a thank you or any sort of response, she rushed off to find him a plate and load it with food.

As instructed, Remus threaded through the mass of moving little bodies until he reached the far wall. The counter where he was told to sit was covered with a thin layer of flour, but otherwise, it was fairly clean. A small candle lit up the area, burned down to a snub while the flame fought for life. The werewolf observed the flickering light, seeming to be captivated by it. It was rather like human life. You could eat your way to the top (or the bottom, in the candle's case), but in the end, all that remains for you is death, no matter what happens.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the dull clunk of a full plate of food being set on the counter in front of him. The warm light returned to his eyes as he turned to face Gabby. "Thank you."

"Master Lupin is always welcome in the kitchens, sir! Gabby will always find a place." She grinned at him momentarily before bobbing her head in a bow and hastening off to continue what she'd been doing before he'd arrived.

The werewolf's eyes rested on the plate, piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, biscuits… Just about anything a boy could want. Not that he'd eat all of it, of course. No, he wasn't quite that hungry just yet. Nonetheless, he picked up a fork and dug in, taking a bit of everything in sequence.

As he ate, he allowed his thoughts to wander again. Vaguely, he wondered just when he'd started having feelings for his best friend. Yes, he'd give anything to maintain their level of friendship, but his body longed for something more. He wasn't satisfied with where they were at this point, but he wasn't sure Sirius would be willing to take that next step. In fact, Remus was almost certain that he wouldn't want to take the step at all. In the animagus's eyes, they were probably at the pique of their companionship right where they were, and was most likely content to stay exactly there.

And what was more, the thick-headed bloke had finally gotten it into his head that it wasn't natural for two teenage boys to sleep together. Again, Remus wondered if it was just from the unacceptable nature of it, or if there was another reason. Perhaps, Remus would allow himself to entertain such thoughts.

What if, just maybe, Sirius was just as confused as he was? What if the only reason he'd kicked him out of his bed was to protect him from whatever he may or may not be inclined to do? The boy frowned, rather ashamed that he could think such a thing. It was wishful, and overly hopeful. These were horrible thoughts to be having about one's best friend, and would only get his hopes up anyway. Nothing ever worked out perfectly, like he thought it should.

By the time he'd reached this conclusion, his stomach was feeling rather full, and he'd only eaten a quarter of what Gabby had given him. Still, the werewolf was fairly sure that if he ate another bite, his rumbling organ would simply explode. So instead, he stood and made his way back towards the front of the kitchens, back towards the portrait. "Thank you, Gabby," he said to her on his way out.

The little elf glanced over her shoulder, hands wrist-deep in dough. Still, she smiled at him, "No trouble at all, Master Lupin! Gabby hopes you come back to visit soon!"

"I'll be sure to do so."

-o-o-

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Sirius had kicked Remus out of his bed. And the nightmares hadn't stopped. Rather, they had actually gotten worse. That was just his luck, wasn't it? The nightmares would get worse just because he didn't have anyone to run and cling to everytime he had one. And worse still, they were coming nearly every night now.

Every night, Remus would thrash about and make horrible noises…

Sirius could hardly stand it. Every night, he would watch through the crack in his curtains, biting his lip. He often wondered if he'd done the right thing… But surely he had? After all, the werewolf needed to learn how to cope with them by himself, right?

He coped with it alone for twelve years.

Such a considerate inner voice he had, reminding him of all the torment his best friend had been through… Most werewolves were changed when they were already adults. Not that it made the process any easier, but Sirius shuddered at the thought of growing up with lycanthropy.

As usual, Sirius closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds coming from the neighboring bed. Eventually, as always, he fell into a light, troubled sleep. He much preferred wrapping his arms around the other boy and falling into a deep, content slumber. And yet, what was done was done. He should be firm and unwavering, as this was for the best.

…Right?

-o-o-

Remus was still tossing and turning, though he was perfectly awake now. The nightmares had driven him into a state of being awake, yet still dreaming at the same time. Sweat covered his lithe form, forming a thin layer of film on the outer layer of skin. It dripped into his eyes, causing them to burn even more than they already were due to lack of sleep. This was ridiculous. He should've pulled himself together by now.

But he couldn't. It just wasn't possible. How could he? It wasn't as if he was inducing the nightmares by choice. They just happened, and he couldn't do a damn thing about them.

Well, actually…

There was something he could do about it. And by Merlin, he was going to stop these nightmares, at least for tonight.

Without giving himself time to rethink, Remus flung himself out of bed and dove into Sirius's, moving as quickly and as silently as possible. He tugged the covers over his own body, and was surprised that his friend hadn't been woken up by the disturbance. Instead, he actually scooted over and draped an arm around the werewolf's waist, pulling him closer.

This was how they'd slept for all those years, Remus fitting perfectly into the natural curve of Sirius's sleeping form. They were perfect, flawless but for the scarred sin that was Remus himself.

For the first time in three weeks, Remus felt secure. He felt safe. He was home.

-o-o-

The next morning when he awoke, he found himself staring straight into the coal-black windows that led into a certain animagus's very soul. Instead of cold hostility, like he'd been expecting, Remus found warm welcoming. He opened his mouth to stutter out some half-assed apology, only to be silenced immediately by a slender finger pressed to his lips.

"You're allowed to stay in my bed on one condition," Sirius said softly, his breath tickling Remus's cheek as it passed over it. "Never leave it again."