Remus draws back the door and Padfoot trots inside, transforming almost before he's hidden from the outside world. They stare at one another across a gulf of too many things unsaid.
"He's back," Sirius says hoarsely. "The bastard's back, and Wormtail helped him."
Remus feels it like a punch, and has to force himself to remain still. "What do we need to do?"
Suddenly Sirius is in his face, hairy and pungent but with lips that are achingly familiar and soft. Remus reaches to pull him close, but suddenly there is air between them and Sirius is hurrying into the kitchen, leaving Remus to follow.
"We have to tell the rest," he calls over his shoulder, "all the old lot - Hestia, Kingsley, Arabella. Can I borrow your bath?"
As water roars through the pipes overhead, Remus makes tea to calm himself, and carries a steaming mug upstairs to Sirius. Already submerged in bubbles, Sirius holds up an orange bottle.
"'Citrus dreams'. Very nice." He reaches behind him for the soap and begins lathering.
When he's finished, Remus hands him the tea. This bath probably means he's out of hot water until tomorrow, but at least it's summer.
"Cheers." Sirius draws soapy knees up to his chest and sips the tea. "Earl Grey," he announces with a hint of pleasure. "Remus, you've gone soft."
"No, I'm just discerning." Remus folds his arms. "Sirius, where have you ibeen/i?"
"Abroad." Sirius watches him with an unreadable expression. "Keeping out of mischief. Unlike that little piece of rat-turd." He dunks his head back and shakes wet droplets over Remus as Padfoot always loved to do.
It's a reasonable answer; of course he needed to keep undercover. But when Remus thinks of all the evenings spent wondering if Sirius was safe, regretting those lost years, paralysed by loneliness and longing, he wants to yank him out of the bath by his matted hair.
"Well." Now is not the time, so he forces a smile. "It's good to see you again. At last."
Sirius stands, cascading water onto Remus and the floor. His body has barely changed from the time Remus first unwrapped it at seventeen, bony yet somehow still elegant, still beautiful.
"Remus," Sirius says, and he moves closer, drawn in as ever by the lure of that voice.
Then they are kissing again, limbs glued tight until Remus is hanging onto Sirius as if he is on a precipice, and he is angrily pleased to notice that Sirius is holding him just as tightly.
"Idiot," Sirius says gently. "I came here for you. Soon as I could."
It's true. Or at least, it's all the truth Remus needs right now.