A/N: I wrote this right before I got into bed, so if it's awful, I am sorry but my sleep-deprived brain demanded that I post it.

There was something very reassuring about the way he slept.

Eyes tightly shut, mouth open, soft snores mixed in with the deep breaths. His golden brown hair was tousled with sleep. Sirius wanted to run his hands through those caramel-coloured locks but restrained himself, for fear of waking the boy sleeping soundly next to him.

Because boys was what they really were.

They would tell themselves differently, when one of them would run out the door without an explanation. When they would then come home, days, maybe weeks later, with new scars and new marks, new bruises and new hurt. They would tell themselves that they were brave and strong, that they were soldiers and that they would win this war.

But they knew they were lying to each other.

Because how can boys be men when they've not yet had the chance to grow?

How can ordinary wizards be soldiers when all they have is the basic Hogwarts training, no matter how smart, or how clever, or how maurader-ish they were back then?

When your friends were falling all around you like dominoes, how could you keep the faith?

"Hey Black, up for a game of Gobstones?"

"You're a right firecracker you are, Mister Sirius Black"

"Merlin Black, you were bloody brilliant out on the pitch!"

"Sirius, why are you doing this? It's because of him isn't it? With his books and his quills... You know what? I hope you two are happy together. Maybe he'll be the person - the man, to tie down Sirius Black".

Fabian, Gideon, Dorcas, Sturgis, Marlene.

Dead. All of them. Gone forever.

But not Sirius. Not yet. And, thank Merlin, not Remus. Or Prongs or Lily or baby Harry. Even Peter had made it this far in the war.

But for how long could they all last?

Homes burning down with people trapped inside, fathers murdered in front of their wives, mothers raped in front of their children. Friends with no more trust, lovers with no more love. People constantly separating, sometimes leaving, some were dying, always crying.

He was only twenty. Still a child really, just trying on his big boy shoes.

So why was he being forced to witness the worst horrors of this earth?

Remus rolled over in his sleep, interrupting Sirius from his darkened thoughts. It wasn't a bothersome disturbance. In fact, Sirius welcomed it with open arms. And I'm not talking metaphorically here. The disowned heir wrapped his tan arms around his werewolf boyfriend, as though trying to shelter him from all the evils in life.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Remus sleepily mumbled out, his eyes still closed.

"Nothing love, go back to sleep", Sirius whispered reassuringly in reply.

With a slight nod of his head, Remus instantly fell back asleep. Sirius unfortunately, struggled to follow. With so much hatred and fear in their world, how could he possibly keep Remus safe? As this problem began to give him a headache, with all the thinking and fretting it's solution required, Sirius realised something. Remus didn't need Sirius to protect him. What he really needed was for Sirius to love him, to trust him, to hold him when a time came that he couldn't manage to get to sleep.

Every month, Padfoot played, wrestled and howled with Moony. He didn't try to stop him from turning into the wolf; it couldn't be done. Some things are inevitable, you just have to accept them.

Life was a bit like the full moon in that aspect.

Sirius needed Remus. Moony needed Padfoot.

Ridiculously happy with this conclusion, Sirius then finally fell asleep.

Right next to the person he needed the most.