Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. Or Sirius. Or Remus. But I dream about it a lot.
Remus was cold now, his eyes paler than they had been at seventeen. He was so tired, as he moved about the house a cold cup of tea clutched in his hands. Never angry, or annoyed, just tired.
Sirius watched him from over the table, behind the book shelf, silence filling his ears. They lived together in a house, just the two them. They'd dreamed of it as boys, when the silver moon was nearly round. Now, how could they be so close but so far?
He was still caged, Remus's howls had replaced the screams of prisoners. As a child he thought even Azkaban would be better than his mothers kitchen. Her nails against the china still seems to echo over the tiles.
There's only a week to the full moon. Sirius wonders with no real conviction if this is to blame for the new lines on Remus's face. Sirius always knows when a full moon is coming, even it Azkaban he couldn't forget, even when his own name seemed foreign, the moon ran in his blood.
He never forgot the feeling of skin. How smooth their cheeks once were, lying together. Flesh warm and young, confused but for once no longer alone. He sips his tea with lips Sirius still knows by heart. He traced them so long ago. He's always looked sickly, familiar and unfamiliar but still beautiful.
They'd stay up late, watching the half moon rise without fear together. No James or Peter, just them, in love. Remus will never fall in love again. His first and only love is the one thing stronger than the moon and he clings to it.
He remembers those dark years alone, wishing he could hate him for killing James and Peter, hating him some but wishing he could hate him more. Haunted by those stupid songs Sirius used to sing, in summers that have many times turned to winter and back again. Their meandering tunes never leave him at night.
Even now, when he's just next door, so close he can almost hear him breath, they follow him. They are sickly like the sky outside, filled with poisenous silver light. Remus traces the purple bite marks on his arm. Even Sirius never touched them, his fingers shyed away. Theres a monster within him.
He pulls the heavy quilts over his body and shivers although it's only September. He doesn't hear the padding of feet outside his door, but he smells the familiar smell and feels the warmth of his body beside him on the bed.