Everything changed when Lily, James and Harry were marked for death. Too quickly their fight for survival became frighteningly literal, and though they thought themselves well acquainted with exhaustion, the word soon took on a whole new meaning. Voldemort and his Death Eaters seemed never to sleep.

Everything they knew and loved was at risk, and the stakes were high. It brought out the best in everyone by reminding them what was most important, but there was one, thought Remus, who took it so deeply to heart it transformed him.

For all its irony, Sirius was a man so much more primal than Remus. He was passion, joy, fury and instinct, unadulterated in every sense, and in that way he was the most honest person Remus knew.

He was also selfish and often needy, though he feigned the devil may care attitude he'd crafted to perfection over the years more frequently still. Perhaps it was to be expected.

As their circumstances had become increasingly dire, however, Remus had watched that self-interest dissipate completely. It amazed him, the strength of Sirius' devotion to those he loved, how fierce he was when offended. Being named godfather of James' child, seeing the baby boy for the first time - it had changed him, given him something to live for other than himself. He'd protect that family with his life, if he had to.

Now, with Harry already more than six months old, they spent a lot of time together - everyone did, and as much as they could. In the midst of the war, no one wanted to be left alone and so there were often gatherings, both large and small. The two men, both living alone, would often spend the night on the other's sofa, reasoning that it would be better - faster, safer - if they were needed or if something were to happen, but if they were honest, it was comforting to know someone was there with them in the seemingly endless nights.

On Remus' doorstep, as dusk faded into what would not be such a night, Sirius stood shifting from foot to foot, intending to leave but looking so earnestly reluctant. They'd been deep in conversation all afternoon, and Remus could think of nothing but what Sirius had told him of the prophecy and all they knew of Voldemort's movements, wondering how long before all of this was over for good, and what it would be like when it finally was.

'I'm worried,' Sirius said while Remus held the door open to him. 'Hell, I'm fucking terrified. If something-'

'Don't.'

Sirius shook his head. 'I couldn't stand it.'

It was all so daunting and Remus had no idea what one could even say to that. For a long moment neither of them did so much as blink. Eventually Sirius stepped back inside, Remus backing away and letting the door swing shut. They leaned against the opposite walls of the short hallway, silent and thoughtful, until Sirius stepped forward and took Remus' face in his hands, eyes a myriad of expression trained intensely on his.

They seemed to say so much, but Remus didn't dare speak to answer. His heart threatened to skip a beat when Sirius pressed closer and kissed him full on the lips. He couldn't help but kiss back, and before he could even think to rein himself in, Sirius was kissing him like a long-time lover who'd been gone for months on end . . .

In the cold, grey light of the morning, Remus stared, wide awake, at the creases on the empty pillow beside him, the pull of the sheets where Sirius had slept. Reaching out, he felt the coolness of the fabric.

Perhaps they were fighting a losing battle, but he held hope for the future, for a world without Voldemort and the hate he personified, and for Harry to have the opportunity to grow into a man who knew nothing about how precariously close it had all come. That was worth his hope and so much more.

Like Sirius, there were some things Remus would be willing give his life to protect.