AN: Hey all! I am reposting this story because it wasn't getting a lot of traffic, because the first chapters were posted so long ago. I am now updating regularly (about once a week). Please review, it makes me write faster!
Sirius Black was sitting, quite uncomfortably, on the extreme edge of the Potter's guest bed. A random passerby might observe the tall, dark haired teenager shaking a piece of cotton from his hair, but no; Sirius had his hands firmly on his temples, and shook, left, right, as though to shake the dangerous, thrilling thoughts from the jumble of feelings that was his mind (and which he often called lunacy). It was not one thought, but perhaps it was. A culmination of thoughts, centered, pulled as if by gravity around one entity, snowballing, and growing, until Sirius thought he could see nothing else but that. He thought of Moony. He thought, with a slight frown, if his friend was healed from last night's full moon, or was Remus still suffering? These thoughts are perfectly natural, reasoned Sirius; there was nothing strange about caring for a friend.
Sirius was eternally grateful to the Potters for taking him in, but the downside of feeling so at home with them was that...well, he felt at home. He felt the slowly building, seemingly crushing sense of being trapped that most adolescents felt in their own home. This was no fault of the elderly couple; they had always been quite liberal, and being very old they hardly meddled in his and James' affairs. Even Mrs. Potter, known to be quite fussy, only fussed over little things like making sure they were well fed and warm enough. Neither of them had the energy to be telling James or Sirius what to do anymore, or to demand them to be home on time. All in all, he had free reign, but still Sirius longed for the vast Hogwarts hallways; the way even the smallest of noises echoed loudly when the corridors were lit by nothing but moonlight. He missed full moon nights; changing into Padfoot whose thoughts were always more innocent; blissful in their simplicity. He missed being together with all of his friends; Remus' calming habits, Peter's witty jokes. Even James seemed to be different in the confines of the Potter Estate; there were no rules to break, no fun to have.
Sirius looked out the large window of the guest bedroom to see the pregnant moon hanging heavy in the sky. He felt as if his gut had been punched; he was sitting in his room perfectly safe and pain free, meanwhile Moony had to suffer the full moon's effects...without them. The first time Sirius had become Padfoot he had solemnly sworn to himself that he would never allow Remus to go through another full moon transformation without him. James and Peter could be there too; that only made things more fun and easier besides, but Sirius vowed that regardless of the other boys, Remus would always have him during the moon. After the Incident, that promise had taken on a sense of urgency that could have only come from a person who felt he needed a lifetime to make things right again. But he had failed him.
Last Christmas Sirius, James, and Peter had gone to visit Remus, for a change. As usual, Remus fretted over every single detail, and retrospectively, had adequately warned them that his mother was a muggle. Sirius had conveniently forgotten this fact, and was terribly excited that he was now able to perform magic outside of school, being the first out of the four to be able to do so. After the fact Sirius claimed to have just wanted to decorate the Lupin cottage adequately, but even he was at loss to explain why in Merlin's name would that include blue flames on the front lawn. And because of that, Sirius was no longer welcome at the Lupin house, and so Remus was suffering this full moon alone. For the first time since 5th year. Sirius had failed him.
Dear Remus,
I wish you would let me, Prongs and Wormy stay with you during holiday transformations. I hope it wasn't too tough on you; then again, skin like leather, yeah Moony? I almost apparated to your place, tonight, worried about you. . If only your parents didn't hate me ever since I *accidentally* set your front lawn on fire. If only they believed me that blue flames are harmless! Padfoot's been itching to get out, too. Not in front of Prongs' parents though. I'd go out for a run at night, if only they didn't check up on me every hour. I think they figure I'll go barmy on them, ever since showing up on their doorstep. Too nice, sometimes. Not that I miss being yelled at. And well, you know, Mrs. Potter sure knows how to make a stew. So I'm not complaining much. You should come by; the Potter estate is rather large (thankfully, though, smaller than the Most Foul House of Black). Prongs' mother has her knickers in a twist 'bout you. Something about how thin you looked back at King's Cross. It would be cruel to deny her the pleasure. Truth is, I'm rather bored here. Music doesn't work, I can't get the record player to work. It's hell. Help, Moony, I know you'll be able to make it work. Just scored a new record by Roxy Music from the record store in the nearby muggle town. It's called Siren, and I think this time I will make you like it. Come by some day. Surprise me.
Mr. Padfoot.
P.S. If you're not here in a fortnight, I'll be forced to endure the scorn of your parents, and come pick you up myself.
Nights at the Potter estate engulfed his soul in a sort of inescapable blackness that had him grasping the air, almost as if to lift the blanket of dark that he perceived all around him. It was during those hours of Black in which his mind played tricks on him. He thought of Moony, like always. This time Moony was his, and healed, with a bare chest, whispering into the crook of Sirius' neck, fingers curled, grasping his hip, pulling him with surprising force toward him, toward his hard cock, and between them lay pleasure and indulgence, and when he came, he whispered, Moony, Moony, Moony. It was not the type of thing that Sirius would allow himself to remember ever thinking. Sirius blamed It on the lack of music. Like an addict, Sirius could not have peace of mind without his music. Playful guitar, and nonsense lyrics, he would close his eyes and see the musicians playing, eyes painted with glitter, leather hips swinging, pulsing, sex. He tried to play the music in his head now, in the dark. Burn you out of my mind, I know/ You're a flame that never fades/ Jungle red's a deadly shade/ Both ends burning, will the fires keep/ somewhere deep in my soul tonight/ both ends burning, burning, burn. "Burning, burning" he murmured, and slipped a hand down his boxers. Burn, Moony, burn.
Sirius awoke the next morning, pushing to the deep recesses of his minds the thoughts that had before taken over. He sat there, the silence threatening to drown him; he tried again with the record player he had brought to James' house. He remembered the Christmas before, when Remus gave him the copper colored, slightly old turntable. It would not work in Hogwarts, not with muggle electricity running through it. So Remus had enchanted it to feed off of magic, producing sound waves, amplifying them. But the charm was starting to wear off, and he found that he could not get it to work in the magically dense atmosphere of James' house. Sirius decided that he would try and find a solution for himself; but first, breakfast. Giving his turntable a final pat, Sirius walked downstairs to the kitchen to see James already sitting there, scarfing down some toast with jam.
"Fancy a fly?" James stopped chewing to ask. Sirius nodded, though he didn't actually want to go flying. Unlike James, Sirius didn't have an unlimited attention span for flying, and after a month straight of grueling practices he was starting to get bored. Looking at the grin on James' face, however, Sirius knew that he couldn't let down his best friend.