(A/N: This hasn't got a title yet, and as usual, all recognizable characters are property of the venerable J. K. Rowling; all else is mine.)

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, was suddenly filled with a shrill whistle. Remus Lupin rose from his armchair by the kitchen fire, where he had been brooding, and went to take the teakettle off the stove. Though he often boiled water magically, there was something calming about going through the ritual in the Muggle fashion, and today Lupin needed that brand of comfort. All the members of the Order were out on business and weren't due back till much later. And with Sirius gone, the house had become a vacuum of excruciating lonely monotony.

Lupin was just surveying his handiwork, steam pouring from the spout of the sturdy blue and white teapot, when a loud rapping came at the door. Lupin's first thought was, Oh bloody hell, and sure enough the screeches of Mrs. Black echoed through the empty house. Hurriedly, he strode up the stairs to the hallway, wrenched the curtains closed over the still howling portrait ("Filthy werewolf, adulterating the house of my ancestors with every malodorous breath—"), and went to answer the door.

He found himself staring at a very familiar face. Remus Lupin had almost forgotten, in the twenty years since he had last seen his twin, just how much it was—and wasn't—like looking into a mirror.

"Romulus!" he exclaimed, his expression a mixture of surprise and joy, as well as a little barely-concealed dismay. There was a reason they hadn't spoken in twenty years. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you, dearest twin," Romulus replied, with the slightest hint of wryness. "Since Dumbledore seemed to think it was a good idea, he told me where you were holing up. May I come in?"

There was the slightest hesitation, then Remus replied with a genuine smile that crossed his entire face, "Certainly! But be very quiet until we get to the kitchen." He stepped away from the door, and his twin swept into the house, his air suggesting that of an owner rather than a visitor.

They made it to the kitchen without the accompaniment of Mrs. Black's ravings, and Remus rushed over to rescue the tea from over-steeping. "I was just going to have some Darjeeling, Romy; do you fancy a cup as well?"

"Oh, all right. It's a clammy sort of day," Romulus said, slipping into the chair opposite the high-backed one Remus had vacated. "Nice place," he commented, as his twin placed a steaming mug into his hands.

"It's actually much cleaner now than when we first chose it for a headquarters. There was only a house elf living here then, and he never did any cleaning."

"Really?" Romulus took a dainty sip from his mug, his eyebrow lifting slightly. "I shudder to think what it looked like."

"Terrible," Remus confirmed. "Truly unlivable conditions. Sirius was given the task of cleaning the place ... he never did forgive Dumbledore for that. He hated this house."

They had been dancing about the subject of Sirius, but Remus had a hard time not talking about him. He had thought about him a lot lately, especially since some of the furor from the battle at the Ministry of Magic had died down. Remus wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it with his twin, but it had just slipped out involuntarily, and now he was stuck with the subject.

"I heard ... he died," Romulus ventured hesitantly. He wasn't sure how to approach this subject, even less sure he wanted to broach it at all. "I know you and he were close."

Remus's fingers slipped on the handle of his mug, and he quickly cupped his other hand beneath to steady it.

"We were," he agreed after a time. "Very close, ever since our first year at school ... but even more so after James died." Impulsively, he plunged on before his twin could reply. "Romy, there's something else you should know. We were—more than friends."

A sardonic grin twitched at Romulus's lips. "I surmised as much. I am not, contrary to popular opinion, stupid. But, pardon me for speaking ill of the dead, what of Potter? Was he a fag?"

Remus was silent for a long while, and he found he could not meet his brother's gaze. Finally he mustered his courage to speak. "I know you've never liked my friends nor approved of my sexual orientation, but as long as you're talking to me I would appreciate it if you would not use insulting language."

Romulus had the good grace to look slightly abashed. "You're right, that was rude. Forgive me."

"Forgiven. And to answer your question, Romy, no, James and Sirius were never together, and to my knowledge he was straight as an iron rod. But Sirius did have an unrequited crush on him seventh year."

"You were jealous." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. I spent many long nights that year consumed with jealousy ... and I am ashamed to say, when I heard word of James's death, a small part of me for an instant was glad." Remus had never admitted this to anyone, and had intended to take the secret with him to the grave, but somehow it felt good to tell his twin, though it took all his strength of will to do it.

Romulus didn't speak for a moment, staring instead into the small wisps of steam issuing from his tea, then he said, "Remus ... we have had our differences. I know I have not acted like a brother should towards you at times. But I am truly sorry for your loss. Your love for him must have been really special, and who am I to criticize that?" His voice had gone quiet and had lost its ubiquitous hauteur. "If you need to talk about it, I am all ears, my twin."

Remus looked gratefully at his brother, suddenly realizing just how much he had missed Romulus all these years. "Well, if you have the time, I'll make us some more tea."