"Remus, have you seen Sirius in the last little while?" Mrs. Weasley asked, setting a steaming soup tureen on the kitchen table in the basement at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. For all the excitement which had surrounded Harry's disciplinary hearing that morning, the day had otherwise been long and uneventful. With dinner approaching, Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived straight from the Ministry and was deep in conversation with Mr. Weasley over by the airing cupboard. George had been pressed into service to keep an eye on the bubbling pan of meatballs still on the stove, while Hermione was busy setting out plates, cups, and cutlery. Lupin looked up from the pot he'd been scrubbing, wearing a thin, worn expression on his face.

"No, I haven't, not since lunch, in fact." he replied, turning to look over his shoulder. Mrs. Weasley gave the ceiling a look she usually reserved for the twins after they had tested her patience to the breaking point.

"Tsk! I do sometimes wonder where he keeps himself. Harry, dear, would you go see if you can find him? Tell him that dinner is nearly on the table."

"I'll go, Molly." Lupin said, ignoring the look of – was it disappointment? – on Harry's face. Harry had already risen from his seat by the fire where he and Ginny had been playing a game of Wizard Chess. "I think I know where he's hiding. I'll get him."

Lupin dried his hands on the tea towel draped neatly over his shoulder and strode from the kitchen. Upon arriving in the entrance hall, he stalked gingerly past the curtained portrait of Mrs. Black, preferring not to wake her from her quiet slumber. Lupin generally relied on his long legs to take him through the hall in the fewest possible steps, though all the regulars at Number Twelve agreed that sneaking past the violently tempered painting had become somewhat of an art, and each had their own theories as to how it was best accomplished.

With only a quick glance into the downstairs parlour, Lupin made his way to the second floor to look in on Buckbeak. The massive, winged creature was being kept in Sirius' mother's old room. Lupin found the creature lying on the tattered hearthrug, happily munching on a smoked pig knuckle, but with no Sirius in sight. Lupin had thought that that was where he would find his old friend, since he generally spent so much time there lately, and was disappointed when he did not. He continued on down the hall, opening first one door, then another, his concern rising with every empty room.

He took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, his heart racing. Lupin was beginning to be annoyed with himself as much as with Sirius. He's here in the house somewhere. There's no need to worry, he reasoned inwardly. It's not like you've lost him again. Lupin's attempts to find him were turning out to be about as efficient and fruitful as Harry's would have been; yet he was determined in any case to have the opportunity to speak to Sirius alone. As far as Lupin was concerned, the current state of affairs had gone on quite long enough.

His gut seized uncomfortably, anticipating what promised to be an unpleasant encounter. Lupin had never been one to interfere with what he might have termed 'the natural course of things'. Through some power, though, ever since he had been forced to leave his teaching position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he felt less and less content to simply watch events unfold before his eyes. It was the time for him, as it would be for them all before long, to stop being a passive observer, and take action when the need arose. And if he couldn't make Sirius see sense, then no one could.

Breathing heavily from the climb, Lupin made his way to the closed door at the end of the hall. He was guided by the golden light of tarnished candelabras, most bearing a delicate mantle of dust-laden cobwebs, which were stationed like guards along the length of the narrow third floor hallway. Instinctively he knew, even at a distance, that he had come at last to the right place. He knocked softly on the dark walnut panelling.

There was no answer, audible or visible, but Lupin was not deterred. He knocked a second time, more forcefully than before. This time, after the space of a few seconds, Lupin heard a muffled response from somewhere beyond the door. He turned the dull silver doorknob and let himself in.

"Since when have you started knocking?" Black asked.

"Since you've started shutting me out." Lupin replied shortly. It was not the start he would have liked.

By the dim light shining in from the hall, he could barely make out the shadowy outline of his friend, lying diagonally across the green silk bedspread. Lupin faintly recalled that this room had been Sirius' hated father's. Why Black should want to hide himself there, even though his own bedroom was just one floor above them, he could scarcely guess.

To close the door, Lupin knew, would mean returning the room to darkness; but theirs was to be a conversation unsuitable for open doors, even in such a remote corner of the house. He stepped further into the room and swung the door gently closed behind him.

"I shut you out, do I? Well, you seem to have no trouble shutting yourself back in."

"Sirius," Lupin began, an edge of tired frustration sharpening his voice.

"Well, really. A door is usually shut for good reason. Often, it's because the person on the other side wishes to be left alone."

"Sirius," he repeated in a dangerous tone. For all the hardships that Lupin had experienced over the course of his difficult life, nothing made him feel more worn, or made him more keenly aware of his approaching fortieth birthday, than the belligerent tone that Sirius usually took with him when he was nursing his own wounded ego.

"Why did you come up here, Moony?" Black continued, testily.

"Firstly, to tell you that Molly wants you downstairs for supper." When Black made no immediate reply, Lupin continued, "You've been up here all afternoon, haven't you?"

"So what if I have?" Black spat, defensively. "Fat lot of good I do anywhere else, either in the house or out of it, upstairs or downstairs, so I might as well keep out of the way, mightn't I?"

"You have to stop, Sirius. Please, this isn't healthy."

"Healthy? What is 'healthy'? I haven't known health these last fourteen years. I've forgotten what it is to be healthy."

"It isn't this." Remus replied, raising his voice.

"Why did you really come up here, Remus?"

"Because, frankly, I've had enough!"

"Then you might as well leave."

"Sirius, there is an angry, confused young man downstairs who positively thinks the world of you. Like family. More than that, you're his only real connection to the family he never got to know. And right now he's suffocating under the weight of experiences you and I could scarcely imagine when we were his age. Think about that for a second, would you? You think you do no good in this house? He needs you, Sirius, and you're not there for him. He looks up to you like no other. Consider what you're teaching him. Look at what kind of example you're setting for him!"

The only response Sirius made was a low harrumph, but Lupin continued on.

"I can't understand you, Sirius. I honestly can't. When you broke out of Azkaban, Harry was the first person you sought out. Even though he was so heavily guarded, even with all those eyes trained on him, you went after him. Before you came after me, even," he added, quietly. "The only friend you had left alive. You've risked so much; and now that you have the opportunities that you nearly died for, you're letting them pass you by. I don't understand that, and I would never have expected that of you."

Sirius sighed deeply and Lupin heard him shift on the bed.

"It's been fourteen long years, for goodness' sake. I'm not the friend you knew, Remus," he said sadly, after a pause.

"Yes."

"No."

"You are." Lupin replied insistently, stepping forward, seeing only by the faintest orange light, which had somehow managed to seep in through the grime-glazed windows on the far side of the room. He stopped when his shins collided with the edge of the bed. Lupin sat down, the old mattress sagging considerably, despite his slight frame. "You are the same stubborn, proud, thick-headed Padfoot I have always known. You're moody, inconsistent, reckless. Everything you were then is everything you are still. Don't you think for a single minute that I don't remember the way things used to be with you. What I can remember might astound you."

Lupin sensed, more than he saw, where Sirius' head rested and put out his hand to rest in the soft fringe of the hair by his face. He pulled on the locks gently, letting the curls slide between his fingers. Lupin felt Sirius relax beneath his touch, and turn his head so that Lupin's knuckles brushed against his temple. He did not pull them away. Warmth spread through Lupin's chest – a warmth only such simple closeness could bring for one so used, now, to being alone.

"I had to. Well. I thought I had to." Black said in a nearly voiceless whisper, "I tried to find Harry first because, of anyone I knew, he deserved to know the truth first. I meant to tell him that night we saw each other near his uncle's house. When I finally came face to face with him, I suppose I faltered. He didn't know me, of course. He looks so much like James! I suppose it caught me off guard. I realized what a stupid plan it had been. It would have been too much. He looked frightened. I would have only driven him off. After that I knew I would have to wait for the right moment."

"He's here, Sirius. He's downstairs right now, just like you've wanted for weeks, longer even. He misses you, and you're both under the same roof! And he's not the only one who misses you."

From beyond the closed door of the bedroom they heard a loud crash, like a tumbling of small metal objects, and the unmistakable sound of Kreacher cursing under his breath as he gathered them back up again. Lupin made to rise from the bed to investigate, but Black shot his hand up quickly to grab hold of Lupin's shoulder, preventing him from going.

"Leave him. It's not important." Sirius said dismissively, but with his hold still firm on Lupin's shoulder. "Is that a tea towel, Moony?"

Lupin smiled faintly and pulled the damp terry rag from his shoulder and let it fall into his lap. Sirius' hand slid heavily with it, and came to rest by his own side.

"Please, I'm serious." Lupin said softly.

"No, Moony, I'm…"

Lupin grabbed a handful of Black's hair and gave it a tug to stop the joke before it was made. "I'm in earnest, then! Harry's not the only one who misses your company, who's struggling with your distance these days. You're not the only one who has been…affected. It hasn't been easy for me, either. I have sworn to Dumbledore that I'd do whatever he asks of me, in the service of the Order. Already, it nearly cost me my life once, though I've been forbidden to share such business with anyone - not even with other members of the Order, for the time being. I really shouldn't be telling you."

His eyes having adjusted to the dim light, Lupin could see that deep concern had swiftly transformed Black's face upon hearing this. By the flash of his eyes, Lupin knew that Sirius was studying the thin scars and lines which marred his young face, like he had done a thousand times before, perhaps searching for new and unfamiliar ones. No doubt, he found them easily enough.

"So that's where you've been disappearing off to?"

Lupin nodded. Sirius considered him a moment longer before continuing.

"Of course you should tell me. No matter what Dumbledore says. You should always tell me." The tone of Sirius' voice had grown darker, just for the time it took him to utter Dumbledore's name. Lupin was afraid that revealing the danger that he himself had been placed in on occasion had only served to lengthen the list of grievances that Sirius already held towards the Hogwarts headmaster. He prayed that it wouldn't further cloud his judgement. Lupin placed a hand on Sirius' chest, and felt his heart beating swiftly beneath it.

"We have both been alone in our own ways, suffered in our own ways. And now we hide in our own corners, even though we…" Lupin faltered. "We aren't the boys we used to be, true. And it has been fourteen very long, very difficult years. But I for one still need your friendship, your companionship. Now, I think, more than ever. Am I alone, even in that, Sirius?"

Though Black again put his hand on Lupin's shoulder, precisely where it had rested to stop him from standing mere moments before, the significance of this second touch was immediately different.

"No, Remus. You're not alone in that. I've been a fool. A damn fool too stubborn to see how foolish I've been. And I've gotten unused to having you around to remind me of it. But I promise you, Remus. So long as I live, you will never be alone. I promise you."

The hold Sirius had on Lupin's shoulder grew firmer as their eyes locked for the first time since Lupin had entered the room. Emotion of several kinds flooded through him as his words sank in. He doubted that Sirius truly realized how much they meant to him. Sirius meanwhile had broken eye contact and was pressing his lips firmly together in what appeared to be a look of fresh determination.

The pressure on Lupin's shoulder changed and, surprised, he realized that Sirius was pulling him forward. Pins and needles prickled in his hands and feet as he let himself be drawn down. His sandy hair fell across his eyes as he moved, but then Sirius' hand left his shoulder to clear it to one side again as he held Lupin's face. The palm that cupped his cheek was warm and smooth. He brushed his thumb across Lupin's lips.

Lupin shut his eyes tightly. He was afraid that even the faint light would be too great a distraction, would pull some fraction of his attention away from the delicious sensation of having his lips touched so gently. Blindly, he closed the gap between them and felt Sirius draw his mouth to his own. The kiss was soft and tentative, like the first ones they had shared back in their old school days, in the common room long after the others had gone up to bed.

It was a relationship they had shared and guarded against the whole world. Not even their closest friends, not even James, had been allowed in on their secret. Back then, Lupin's hands and knees had shaken uncontrollably as he explored those new experiences, so surprising to him yet feeling so comfortably, genuinely right.

At present his hands were steady, though slightly numb, as he pushed his fingers into Sirius' hair, tangling them in his curls. Sirius must have liked the feeling, for he raised himself onto his elbows and deepened his kisses, so firm that they belaboured his breath. Lupin, pulling at Sirius' velvet collar, brought him the rest of the way up and wrapped his arms around him, anchoring him in place. Through his jacket, Lupin could feel how thin Sirius had remained, even after a year of recovery. Sirius tasted like ruby red port wine. He whispered against the corner of Lupin's mouth, though the only words he was able to make out through the rushing in his own ears were 'never alone again'. Lupin, his eyes still firmly shut, felt overwhelmed. He prayed for the second time that evening - that he wouldn't suddenly wake up, and that this was not all just a wonderful dream. He bent his head to nip at Sirius' neck. Knowingly, Sirius stopped him with the press of his cheek.

"Not now. There isn't time," he breathed softly.

Lupin could not help but smile, though his insides were in knots. He knew that as soon as they emerged into the light, Sirius would see the deep flush that had risen in his cheeks. He withdrew his hands, but not before he clapped Sirius firmly on the side of the face.

"Shall we go down to supper, then? Molly will be wondering." he said, standing a bit shakily.

"Molly's always wondering, the busybody." Sirius replied, taking hold of Lupin's offered hand and pulling himself up. He paused a moment to run his hands through his mess of curls and shake them back into place. Lupin seized the opportunity to lean over and brush his lips lightly once more across Sirius' own. Sirius smiled and shoved him away playfully. "And we should find out what Kreacher's been up to. Hoarding my mother's shoe buckles, no doubt. What's for supper?"

Lupin paused where he stood, smiling more broadly even than before. "Don't ask me what's for supper."

"What? Why not?"

"You'll only laugh."

"Why?"

"Don't ask me."

Sirius gave Lupin a suspicious look while his friend struggled to contain himself. "Fine then." Sirius said. "On second thought, maybe I'll just stay up here."

Lupin chuckled contentedly, actually feeling content for the first time in years, and pushed Sirius out through the opened door.