Number 12 Grimmauld Place is silent, except for the near-inaudible mumblings of Kreacher from upstairs. Remus takes a moment to stand at the edge of the front hallway and survey the scene—the living room, with his book still laying open on the coffee table next to Sirius's tea; the kitchen, dishes still in the sink; the hall, coats still on the coat-rack. He gives a heavy breath and walks into the den to remove essence-of-Sirius.
"Hey, Moony."
He freezes in his tracks, not daring to turn around. That voice. No. No, no, no. This wasn't happening, not now.
"I can clean up my own tea, you know."
"What are you doing here?" Remus croaks after a moment, his throat tight. There is a rustle and then footsteps, a painfully cold hand on his neck.
"I didn't want to leave you alone here," Sirius says, as if that's perfectly normal.
"Don't touch me." Don't stop touching me.
The hand lingers a moment longer and then he pulls it back. He looks hurt, but he can't…he can't let this happen. "Are you okay, Moony?"
"You're dead!" Remus shouts, sitting down on the couch and burying his face in his hands. "How do you think I am?"
"Dead? So?" His tone is almost teasing. Too casual for this. "I'm here, Remus, isn't that what matters?"
"Leave," he says hoarsely. Stay. Sirius is silent.
"Okay, Remy," he whispers, and he hears the crack of Apparition. He looks up and he is alone.
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Remus can't sleep. The bed is too cold, the house too quiet, the pillows don't smell enough like Sirius. Sirius. Why does that idiot have to haunt him? Why can't he just be dead? He sighs, closes his eyes. He is just sinking into a dreamless half-sleep when he hears it.
There is a slight creak of the floorboards and he is awake. It's not Kreacher, he wouldn't come into his room in the middle of the night; and then the sheets move and he smells him again. Oh. No.
"Evening, Moony." There are arms around him, too-cold arms and he shakes.
"Please don't do this." I wish you were alive. A mouth at his collarbone, so familiar but so wrong.
"I love you," Sirius says softly, pulling him down to the bed. Remus turns away and there is a sigh.
"Sirius." I love you too.
"What do you want from me?" Sirius asks, and his voice is cracking, thick with hurt. "I'm trying, Moony, I really am."
"Sirius…just…" He rubs a hand down his face, shocked to find there are hot tears leaking from his eyes.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Yes." Never.
Sirius sits up, but hesitates at the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Sirius, please leave." Don't go.
"Okay, then."
Don't leave me here alone.
A crack. He's gone.
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Remus is at an Order meeting but he can't concentrate because Sirius is lingering at the back of his mind. He can feel him there, just waiting to emerge. Tonks mentions him and her voice catches, and there he is, a hand on his shoulder.
"Stop it, Sirius," he gasps without thinking. Several pairs of eyes look up at him, some confused, all pitying.
"I just want to know what's happening at the Order." His voice isn't defensive, like Remus thought it would be. The hand squeezes.
"Go away," he whispers, so low the rest of the Order can barely hear him. Please stay.
"Would it be better if I didn't talk? If I didn't touch you?" Sirius asks, pleading with him to let him be.
"Just leave! Don't do this now, not here!" Remus has raised his voice again and Molly Weasley stands to lead him away, obviously not hearing the crack as Sirius disappears.
Don't go.
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Remus is expecting him to come to bed, and doesn't make a sound as Sirius climbs in and winds himself around the other (living) man. But when icy lips touch his cheekbone, he speaks. "Why are you here?"
"What do you mean?" Sirius replies, running a hand through his brown hair.
"You're dead. Why are you here?"
"Because I love you."
"I can't do this," Remus says instantly. I love you too much. "Please leave." Don't leave me here.
"Remus…," Sirius pleads, but already he is untangling himself and moving away. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!" No. Stay.
A crack.
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This time Sirius is in bed before Remus. It has been a particularly bad day and he isn't in the mood to lie, so he lets Sirius touch him, he lets Sirius hold him and kiss him and breathe how much he loves him. And so, when they are pressed flush against each other and he can see the heat in Sirius's body but not feel it, and he cries, Sirius doesn't mind the broken whispers in his ear or the nails digging too hard into his back, because after all, he is dead.
"I love you," Remus gasps, "don't go. Please don't go."
"I won't," Sirius promises.
And he doesn't.
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"Tonks will be good for you," Sirius says casually months later.
"But I don't want Tonks." Remus has grown used to him being there, because he knows Sirius won't go away unless he tells him to, and he's been doing that less and less frequently.
"But she wants you, and she's good for you. You need something else."
This sounds suspiciously like Sirius wants them to stop…whatever it is they're doing. Remus looks up from his tea and stares at the cold, wonderful man in front of him. "What are you saying?" Don't do this.
"I'm saying I'm dead, Moony," Sirius informs him.
"No—you aren't—you won't—" Remus can tell the fear is plainly on his face, but at this point he can't bring himself to care.
"I won't leave unless you want me to," the dead man whispers, kissing his jaw. "Do you want me to?"
Remus doesn't answer.
Sirius stays.
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Tonks is pretty. Tonks is nice. Tonks is everything he should want. But Tonks isn't Sirius.
"Remus, are you alright?" she asks, watching him closely as Remus tries to ignore the man singing in the background.
"Remus and Dora, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—"
"I'm fine." I ache.
"You've seemed a little off since Sirius died," she says softly, stroking his jawline. Remus can't help but think how Sirius likes to kiss him there.
"I still see him." He has no idea where the words come from, but it has shut Sirius up for the moment and stilled Tonks' hand.
"Oh, Remus," she whispers.
"I don't want your pity." I just need Sirius. "I am not insane. He is over there making rude gestures at me."
Sirius's hand drops, and his eyes become dull. "Do you want me to leave?" he asks quietly; he can see the hope that it's no plainly on his face.
"Yes." Never.
A crack, and he is just with Tonks.
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"I told you she'd be good for you," Sirius says smugly, but his eyes are still dull.
"I still don't want her, Sirius." Remus stares blankly at the ceiling, hating himself for feeling calm with a freezing body pressed against his.
"But you're going to marry her."
"You wanted me to."
"No," he replies. Remus sighs and turns away. "I love you, Remus."
"You are not helping with my guilt." I love you too.
"I'm dead. There's no reason to be guilty." He can hear the sacrifice in his tone, the blatant restriction of his feelings for the werewolf's benefit. After a long stretch of silence, he asks, "Do you want me to leave?"
"Yes." Please don't go.
"Do you want me to come back?" And Sirius's voice breaks, a shuddering breath taken as he moves off the bed.
"Yes." Always.
Crack.
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He is there, at the wedding. Sirius leans against a tree and doesn't bother to hide his emotions this time, and when he walks away as Remus kisses her, the tears are mistaken for happy ones.
Sirius shows up again in their bedroom. He sits across an armchair and stares at the ceiling, and Remus can't meet his eyes.
"I love you," he says finally, whispered tones as if he'll wake up Tonks.
"Go away." I'm sorry. Sirius scowls at him and stands up.
"Should I come back?"
"You shouldn't be here at all." Don't leave me.
"Alright, Moony." Just as he is about to Apparate Remus stops him.
"I love you, Padfoot." I'm sorry we ended like this. His voice wavers. "Don't come back, please." I never wanted you to leave.
Sirius doesn't bother to hide that he's crying as he leaves.
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"Remus!"
Sirius is warm. For the first time in two years, he is warm, and Remus knows he is dead.
"I love you, I missed you, I'm so sorry," Sirius gasps out into his throat. Remus can't do anything but hold him, too overcome with the weight of what has just happened.
"Tonks is dead too, isn't she?"
"Yes, but—" Sirius stops at Remus's face, white with shock. "You—you love her, don't you?"
"Sirius."
"Go," he says. "Go, I was dead first, you love her—" Remus grabs him roughly and kisses him, gasping at the feel of him, warm and alive but so very dead.
"Don't leave me," he whispers.
"Never."
And he doesn't.