The Pieces

by ikeablanket

Of course, he knew that even if Sirius had have let him in on this divine, cosmic plan, it wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference. Remus would have still followed him blindly. Remus would have still been unable to let go.

"We've had a good run so far though, haven't we? Considering..."

The words came back to Remus now as he stared down at the abandoned sock. A good run. How like Sirius, he thought, to class something that was as ridiculously detached as their relationship had been as 'a good run.'

Seven tumultuous years together at school, followed by perhaps two or three grasped years in which they fell in and out of each others lives with a beautiful and painful kind of dexterity.

And then over a decade of nothing.

Yes, he supposed, they had been reunited again afterwards– but what had it been then? Months, sometimes merely days, where they had met once more and clashed together, frothing ocean waves. The longest amount of time they were ever really together after Sirius' escape was when Remus had finally moved into Grimmauld Place...and it had been there, just barely perceptible, that faint whisper of hope and redemption...the cautious possibility of the future...

But Remus couldn't fathom out for the life of him just how they were meant to begin again...

"We've had a good run so far though, haven't we? Considering..."

Sirius had said it in a quiet, aching voice that had made him sound slightly insane. He had said a lot of things in that way after he came back from Azkaban.

"...a good run so far..."

As though he somehow knew what would happen. As though he was trying to justify how they never quite seemed to get off the ground. Failure to fly. He bent down gently, ignoring the ache in his knee caps, to touch the sock with fingers that trembled ever so slightly.

"Considering..."

Remus was quite certain now that some larger design had always been put in place between them. At first, when he had toyed quietly with the idea in the back of his mind, he had felt that it sounded outlandish and irrational. The thinking of a mad man. But every time that something happened, every time that some new and cruel twist suddenly emerged on their pathway, he began to get a sinking feeling that maybe his suspicions were not so ludicrous after all.

And somehow Sirius (godly, mysterious Sirius) had been able to see it.

So why hadn't he let Remus in on it? Why hadn't he revealed the punch line in their hilarious cosmic joke? Why hadn't he told him there could never be a happy ending for them and that Remus should just leave and go his own way?

Why hadn't he told him that he shouldn't wait for him?

Because he had waited for Sirius. Waited for years and years, against all his better judgement, waited even through all his hatred and misery and isolation. He'd seen himself grow old, grow tired. He'd turned down perfectly acceptable people and warm, open arms for nothing...for loneliness and a handful of photographs that he couldn't even bear to look at...he had waited through every heartless cycle of the moon. He'd put up with the rumours, the accusations...

"That's Remus Lupin over there. Haven't seem him crack a smile in five years...I know it was bad but at least its over now, isn't it? We can all start again, can't we?"

"Probably still hung up on Black, after everything he fucking did, after he murdered his best friends...tried to kill the baby, betrayed them all...sick bastard."

And Remus knew that the 'sick bastard' bit wasn't about Sirius.

But why? Why hadn't he been able to turn his back on the man, the animal, who had murdered his friends, broken his trust, destroyed his whole world in one fell swoop?

He hadn't been able to explain it then and he still couldn't now. All he knew was that when Sirius wasn't there it was...it was nothing. There was simply nothing.

The sock was worn and soft. Dust had gathered over it in a fine, sheer layer. Remus gently rubbed his fingertips across the ridged pattern on the heel. Of course, he knew that even if Sirius had have let him in on this divine, cosmic plan, it wouldn't have made the slightest bit of difference. Remus would have still followed him blindly. Remus would have still been unable to let go.

He couldn't even bring himself to throw out an old sock because it still possessed the sweet memory of the owner's foot.

The sock was still there. Sirius wasn't. He thought about it everyday. He didn't understand it.

---

Sirius had always said he could never pinpoint exactly when or how it had happened. It had been sort of there and not, all at the same time –an uncomfortable, disturbing realisation that he couldn't understand and didn't want to bring himself to confront.

It was one of the few summers that they hadn't spent entirely together. Remus had been off for the last three weeks or so to spend time with his relatives and cousins in some place that Sirius' had already forgotten the name of. So the rest of the holiday had been spent with James and Peter and, despite the missing fourth member, it had been great - filled with plenty of mischief, smuggled bottles of beer and sneaky cigarettes and long, hot, endless days where they tried to think of everything and nothing.

But Sirius couldn't deny the underlying worry that he carried with him, the gnawing fear about what would happen after school; the fact that he felt as though his childhood was quite suddenly slipping through his hands and he couldn't hold onto it any longer. Even lying on the camp bed in James's bedroom at night, with Peter's gentle snoring and James' familiar Quidditch obsessed murmuring, Sirius had suddenly begun to feel quite small.

And then of course, there came the problematic issue of meeting up once more on the platform at the start of term. This in itself wasn't normally a problematic circumstance (in fact, to Sirius' recollection, it had never been problematic in the past) – more often than not Sirius was all too eager to escape the clutches of the Black household for another term, to be enveloped by the laughter of his friends and to be welcomed home into the company of chocolate frogs and dirty jokes – as though he was somehow only the real Sirius when he was set against the background of his friends, an outline waiting to be painted in.

But this time was different. Very different.

Remus was different.

Because suddenly, somehow, Remus looked so much, inexplicably older than the rest of them – and he had grown, now easily the tallest, head and shoulders above them all. His skin, for perhaps the first time ever, looked fairly healthy and he had a red tinge of sun burn resting lightly across the bridge of his nose, accentuating the cut of his cheek bones. The tan made his scars stand out in a way that, Sirius thought to himself with surprise, could only be described as...well...dashing.

And he was so...so relaxed! So bloody charming! He sauntered gracefully when he walked now, smoothly gliding down the platform and attracting a quiet halo of attention from the girls in their year, waving to the three of them with a calm, patient smile and long, languid movements.

He was still angular, still bony, but now his shoulders stood out. And his forearms and wrists looked different but...Sirius just couldn't grasp it. Couldn't decide what it was. He just knew that he'd never looked at Remus in that way before...and that changed everything. He felt nauseas and depressed and excited and when Remus finally opened his mouth to say hello all Sirius was conscious of was a distant ringing noise...that, and the way that Remus' lip curled up slightly at the corner when he spoke.

Later on, when they were lazing around on their beds, full up on roast turkey and potatoes and quite excellent red onion gravy, Sirius looked lazily across at the mop of sandy hair. His full stomach had temporarily distilled the nausea and now that he was peaceful, he could see that the sun had brought out a few faint freckles, like constellations, on Remus' cheeks and he scowled. Freckles, bloody typical. And to make matters worse, he had a necklace – a bloody necklace – decorated with wooden beads and a small, singular white shell. It came from St. Ive's, he had explained to them over dinner when James had ridiculed his 'adornments', that's where his cousins lived you know, they'd spent all their time at the beach and it had been great and they'd eaten fish and chips practically all the time and gone in the sea everyday and had loads of clotted cream ice-cream and...

"Al-right Moony, give it a rest, you had the best summer EVER without us, we get it, we get it...only the tossing seaside..." he had said sulkily, verging on snappily, pushing carrots around his plate with the tines of his fork.

Sirius wasn't happy. He felt himself getting churlishly aggravated at Remus' sudden and new found independence – where the hell had these amazing, better-than-my-friends-at-home cousins come from? He was sure he hadn't heard about them before...

"Looks like somebody is jealous..." Peter muttered with a smirk as he lifted a knife edge precariously laden with peas, to his mouth. He was quickly silenced by the flash of Sirius' eyes and once more resumed his lowly, obedient position with James sympathetically patting his shoulder.

"Well, I am sorry we can't all jet off to Egypt or Prague whenever we want – not all bloody toffs you know!" and Remus, only very slightly offended, had emphasised the trace of his Yorkshire accent as though to say: "Don't forget, you're rich and posh and I'm poor and not and we're nothing alike and never will be."

Sirius had just huffed.

"Haven't been to Prague in years actually..."

---

Yet, now, with a feeling of contentment and ease at last upon him, he still couldn't begin to decipher what it was that had actually changed...same hair, same slightly eerie eyes, same chin, same nose...stupid, crooked nose, too big, slightly pointed, off centre...

"You know Moony...I never noticed just how big your snout actually is..."

"Sirius!" Peter flipped over at once, balling up his pillow and gawping up at the dark haired boy, voice rich with indignation, glancing from face to face.

"Crikey Pads, where did that come from?! Least he hasn't got your chin...could cut ice with that bugger!" said James with a snort, launching a slipper over at Sirius' head.

And Remus just rolled his eyes, those stupid dancing eyes.

"It's alright you two...after all, we all know it's just because he can't take his eyes off of me, isn't that right Padfoot? Missed me all summer did you?"

And Sirius Black, who had never had his feathers ruffled in his whole 16 years of existence, turned scarlet red and began spluttering out explanations.

But Remus just ran a strong, elegant hand through his copper-sandy-auburn-Merlin knows what colour hair and laughed, his eyes briefly meeting Sirius', before he laughed again and looked down towards his book.

And from then on Sirius was hooked, lightning bolts and all.

They never had told anybody but perhaps, people knew anyway. Sometimes, when they were visiting Harry, Sirius would do something funny and Remus would burst out in fond, uncontrollable laughter and then Sirius would grin up at him, gratified, delighted. Lily's eyes would glance at them and for a few moments she would consider...maybe...no, it couldn't be...

"Don't move in with Peter."

Remus turned around, his breath ghosting in front of him on the bitter night air, a bad habit smouldering gently between his fingers. Sirius had just appeared through the backdoor of the pub, leaving the warmth and the myriad of voices to join his friend, dark and brooding in his leathers and slightly honeyed by the lager.

"I didn't say I was Pads, he only suggested it. You know he'll never fly the nest anyway – that was the tan and black talking. What's got into you?" He laughed and took the final draw from the dwindling cig.

Sirius stepped closer to him and Remus could smell the alcohol, the aftershave and the leathers, maybe black pepper and cloves. He tried not to think about it.

"I just...I just don't think you should, that's all."

"Well," Remus leaned back against the wall, "I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Its not looking like I have much choice – it would be easier to live with Pete if he is serious about getting a place, haven't got any other options really...could move back in with dear old Ma and Pa for a bit I suppose."

The thought of his childhood bedroom with its model planes and endless magical encyclopaedias undeniably held a certain charm...but then the secondary thought of his mother, strained and peaky, fussing around him again, folding his underwear...and his dad, silent and guilt ridden and usually cross, reading his newspaper in the corner of the room...he shuddered.

"Or you could...you know..."

"What?"

"Move in. With me I mean."

Remus regarded him with scepticism. Sirius decided to fight his corner.

"Well I can't stay with James and his parents forever when we leave school – no doubt he'll be shacking up with Evans anyway - and I need to start looking for something, it would probably be a good idea to share somewhere – keep the costs down. I've got some money put away we could use thanks to Uncle Alphard, just to get started..."

Remus bristled with annoyance.

"Ugh Sirius, don't do that, will you? I'm not a bloody charity case...don't forget, your savings aren't going to last forever now that they've taken your silver spoon away..."

"No, I wasn't, I just...it'd be good, wouldn't it? Would be a good laugh?"

In the shady back alley, with the weight of the world on their shoulders and a war going on in the unexpressed silence, the prospect of a 'good laugh' seemed glib and sour.

Remus carefully observed Sirius, rolling his eye over the dark figure. He thought to himself, not for the first time, that Sirius looked great when he wore muggle clothes. He smiled slightly.

"Well, even if you did find a place...I'm not sure that would be a good idea, would it?" Sirius looked offended.

"Why not?"

"Well, where to begin...lets see...firstly I might accidentally get in the way of your erm...'overnight guests'. I don't know about you but I don't fancy making toast and tea for Tracey of Stacey or Lacey or whatever her name may be while you sleep off a hangover and try and adjust to the day without the beer goggles on..."

"Oh, come on..."

"Secondly, your feet stink. Thirdly, you are really, really bloody messy! And I'm pretty sure you were attempting to grow some sort of habitat for a double-ended Newt on your dirty Quidditch kit a few months back. Fourthly...well..." and Remus hesitated uncomfortably.

"What?"

"You'd have to put up with...the thing. You know." And he indicated towards the sky, where the moon was a shy but surly crescent, peeking furtively from behind smoky clouds. There was a silence as Remus fiddled with the zip of his jacket. Sirius exhaled slowly.

"Look Moony...all that stuff... the last thing...it doesn't matter to me, you know that...and the other stuff: the socks, the dirty laundry, the mess...the girls...I can change all that. I promise." Remus seemed unconvinced. The mood was suddenly sombre and aching and Remus twitched nervously in a way that Sirius knew meant that he was very uncomfortable.

"Oh, c'mon Moony, give me a chance. I'll be a regular little homemaker – your shirts starched and your socks darned before you can say 'Chocolate Frog'."

The ice was broken and they exchanged a rough, small laugh. Remus rolled his tongue along his bottom teeth, pushing his hair back with his hand. Sirius shivered in the dark.

"I don't know Sirius..." It was the same tone of voice that Remus had used ever since the incident at school and it still gave Sirius pangs of sour guilt. He gingerly put his hand out to rest on Remus' arm, feeling the body flinch beneath his palm. Those bloody lightning bolts again...

"I'm being serious about the girls you know...that could stop...that would stop...if...if you were there."

Remus stiffened, stooped back a little.

"What?"

Sirius himself wasn't even quite sure what he had meant by that remark. Even in the dark, Remus' eyes burned like coins of molten cooper in a deeply unsettling fashion and Sirius thought briefly for a moment that he should try and explain himself. Instead, he stared back at him, stared right into him and hoped that he could understand, hoped that he'd realise what Sirius really wanted to say, what the cool sweaty palm on his arm really meant, what the constant stream of babbling, giggling, infuriating girls had really been about.

But then Remus just laughed, ran his hand through his hair, like always, and shook himself out a bit.

"Bloody hell Pads, don't get all sentimental on me, anyone would think you were trying to chat me up or something!" And he made his way back to the doorway with Sirius stood perfectly still in a preserved state of shock and rejection.

"You coming then, daft sod? 'Spose we'd better tell them the good news hadn't we – what do you think Prongs will buy us darling, how about a chair and a pipe for you and a washing machine for me?"

For a moment Sirius said nothing, watching as Remus imitated some quaint housewife, blinking doe eyed in the dim light with his hand pressed tragically against his forehead. He realised with a painful, soul crushing wrench that at 18 years of age he had stumbled across something rare and trembling, something he hadn't felt before and the person on the other end of these feelings didn't even understand, didn't even have an inkling that Sirius had thought about him everyday constantly for the past two years, that Sirius was terrified about the future and couldn't see any point in living if it wasn't with Remus by his side – or something, something like that – not love, no, not necessarily to have Remus be in love with him but just to be there...just there.

And then he remembered himself and remembered that he was supposed to be funny and charming and ridiculous and never really have any real feelings at all because he was Sirius Black, painfully handsome, love rat, total sod. He stepped up to join Remus with a grin that came perilously close to making his eyes water.

"Sounds totally spiffing sweetheart, now, do me a favour and fetch me my slippers old girl, eh?" and he slipped an arm around Remus' bony shoulders as they went back inside.

---

He put the last of the boxes down with a loud sigh and a huff, arching his back and groaning as he stood up.

"I had no idea I owned this many books! I'm inclined to think it could be the beginning of a potential obsession..." Rubbing his neck, he turned to see Sirius loading up the lukewarm fridge with cheap beers. "Oh, pass us one Pads, I'm bloody flaggin' here."

Sirius automatically looked up above the fridge door and grinned, grabbing two bottles.

"Haha, what was that Moony?"

"Oh piss off..."

"You're so Northern sometimes I can't bloody believe! Shouldn't you be down mining in a well or running about on t'moors or something?"

"Oh ha bloody ha, and I believe you mean a 'pit' you numskull" but he couldn't help smiling at the thought of mining down in the 'wells', "Plus, your impression of my accent is shocking."

They sat down on the two plastic chairs that accompanied their grotty formica table and drank thirstily, taking in the view of their new pad. It wasn't exactly what they had imagined. Mismatched piles of cardboard boxes splitting under the weight of the possessions inside covered the curling lino floor. A pair of rather unbecoming tangerine and brown geometric patterned curtains hung at the window and an unfortunate looking fern left by the previous owner had crozzled up inside its brown plastic pot.

"Home sweet home..." said Sirius, smirking in a way that Remus could tell meant that he was trying not to burst out laughing or crying, one or the other. Remus looked thoughtfully at the clean cut profile as Sirius took a swig of his drink and contemplated, not for the first time, how unfair it was that anybody could be that ridiculously handsome – not just ok, not just 'oh, he scrubs up well' type of handsome – but genuine, old fashioned, film star good looks type handsome. Still, at least he couldn't do accents.

"Say 'on t'moors' again Pads."

Sirius, who had always enjoyed the opportunity to perform, stood up and did a valiant but horrendous impression of some haggard old man, stumbling around the room between the boxes, sounding as though he had a piece of melon wedged in his mouth:

"EEE bar gum, get thi' sen uuupp art ont'mooors yee booouuggers!"

Remus instantly fell about.

"Shocking, just fucking shocking!" and Sirius laughed as well, coming to sit back down. They remained in their companionable silence for a few minutes, still taking stock of their new paradise. Sirius thought about how much he enjoyed it when Remus found him funny and Remus was still thinking about how unfair it was that Sirius could be blessed with cheekbones and a jaw like that.

"Well...you don't sound anything like him...but you would make a good Heathcliff, you know."

"Is he that fat bear who gets stuck everywhere?"

"What? No! That's Winnie-the-Sodding-Pooh you prat! Heathcliff, you know, Wuthering Heights...dark and mysterious...runs around on the moors howling like an animal...little bit inclined towards violence and financial embezzlement, ring any bells? It's only the most cliché thing on the face of the earth, I can't believe you could get him confused with a honey guzzling bear!"

But Sirius had stopped listening after 'dark and mysterious.'

"Do you really think so?" Sirius, although never having read Wuthering Heights, had heard all about it from Remus and rather liked the sound of this Heathcliff character – well, at the very least he preferred him to Jude Fawley, who Sirius (also not having read Jude the Obscure or much classic muggle literature if he was perfectly honest) couldn't bloody stand, much to Remus' annoyance who exclaimed despairingly that Sirius 'just didn't get it!', whatever 'it' was.

"Oh yes, can easily imagine you getting some poor girl who you don't love up the duff and then refusing to let her see her family, got you written all over it that has..." continued Remus.

"Hey!"

"Oh come off it, I'm only joking...its just all that black hair isn't it? It just screams of silent, repressed anger and emotional turmoil."

"Well that is the look I was going for..." said Sirius, sweeping his 'just-get-out-of-bed-actually' fringe out of his eyes. Remus snickered but then fell back to his silent contemplating, bottle held between his legs.

"But I mean, I'd rather have the accent than the hair...any old person can have hair Moony but girls love your accent, when you aren't trying to cover it up at least."

"Come off it...they don't..."

"They do! They think it's dead sexy! I've heard them!" Sirius wasn't sure this was exactly true, but in the very least it summed up how he felt about the rarely heard accent and that was good enough. Remus smiled a small, quick smile and looked at Sirius.

"Thanks Pads...you know, I think I might have been the most introverted, shy hermit on the whole planet if I didn't have you around to cheer me up and give my ego a massage now and then."

And Sirius smiled too, in what he hoped came across as a nonchalant gesture of friendship, as he tried desperately to control the blood rushing to his head.

"No problem."

---

"Can I borrow this?" Remus emerged from Sirius' bedroom door in a pale blue shirt, flapping, with his hair still wet from the shower and a light grey jumper clutched in one frantic hand.

"Yeah, yeah, it's not clean though I don't think..."

"No, I know, can smell you on it – (Sirius fluttered) doesn't matter though." And he pulled it on over his head. He adjusted the shirt collar, pulling it up over the jumper and rolled the sleeves up and down twenty-three times, trying to decide what was best, eyeing himself nervously in the mirror. Sirius watched him from over the back of the settee.

"Roll your sleeves up, looks better."

"You think?"

"Yeah, you look great in that." Had he really said that? Time to recover. "Not as good as I look in it of course..."

Remus tutted and attempted to tame his hair. Sirius raised his nose skywards and sniffed, tracing the smell of mangos and lychees.

"You onto something pooch?"

"You've used my good shampoo again, haven't you?"

"Haven't."

"Liar."

"Fine, I'm sorry – I'll buy you another bottle when you run out." They both knew that was never going to happen but Sirius enjoyed hearing it anyway.

"Well this is never right – you out on a hot date on a Friday night and me revising. Merlin, what is wrong with the world." He glumly envisioned the lonely night that lay ahead of him without Remus' warm little laugh and Remus' body squished up next to him on the settee and their usual Chinese take away and banter until the small hours of the morning, "Hasn't she got a friend you could hook me up with? I'll be good, I promise."

Remus looked uncomfortable in the mirror, meeting Sirius' eyes in the reflection.

"She...she's not really...all that sociable, kind of quiet, not sure she's got the kind of friends you'd get on with Pads."

"Oh." Sirius flicked at the cuff of his jumper in slight annoyance, "Well, are you sure you don't want me to come just in case? Hey, if it goes badly, we could always just make up an excuse and go and get a Chinese or go to the pub or even a curry if you really want..."

"Sirius, I'm fine. Thank you for the offer but really, I'm a big boy, I'm sure I can handle myself if it doesn't go well – anyway, I thought you'd be pleased!" he said brightly. "You've got the flat to yourself all night without me getting under your feet!" Sirius couldn't think of anything worse.

"Sure...yeah, ok."

Remus picked up his jacket.

"Look, I'll see you later –have a good night, yeah? Don't work too hard."

And with the door closing quietly behind him, he was gone.

Sirius looked around and wandered what he was supposed to do now. His books were as unappealing as ever. The muggle television set was on, but all the shows were crap. Could wank off all night, but that wouldn't make anything better. He could go to the pub he supposed, get so drunk that he could forget all about the way Remus had looked just now...hadn't seen James' in three days. Hadn't seen Peter in...Merlin, a month? Better send an owl.

15 unbearably long minutes later, he sat staring at the scribbled, ink blotched reply from James.

"Sorry mate, another time, out with Lily – date night, no dogs allowed! Catch you soon,

-Prongs."

Sirius ripped the parchment up in frustration.

Half an hour later. No reply at all from Peter. Where was he nowadays?

Right. Enough moping. He grabbed the leather jacket and pulled on his boots. Time to take the bike out.

---

Remus woozily tumbled in at 3 o'clock that morning, snorting to himself as he tripped up over Sirius' boots. What a stupid bloody night. How had he gotten so drunk? He was sure he hadn't had that many...and the worst thing was, the real fucking pinnacle, was that it had all been such a sordid waste of time. The guy he was meeting had turned out to be perfectly arrogant and not nearly as clever as he had first anticipated...and in fact, when you saw him up close, inches away from his badly shaved face, there was nothing remotely inspiring about his eyes whatsoever...in fact, in some lights, he almost looked positively brain dead...but still, he had paid for all of the drinks...

The flat was clad in darkness except for the soft glow emitting from the lamp on the coffee table. Through his slightly bleary vision, Remus could just about make out the dark lump on the settee that he recognised as being Sirius. He attempted to creep to the kitchenette in silence and pour himself a glass of water but he knocked the bin on the way and Sirius sat bolt up right, ears pricked, startled out of his light sleep by the ringing of the chrome.
"Remus?"

"Yeah...yeah, 'sme, sorry pal...go back to sleep, go back to sleep."

Sirius rubbed his eyes.
"I was waiting up for you..." it sounded pathetic and hollow in the dark room. He could hear Remus glugging down water.

"I got some Chinese for you...thought you might be hungry when you got back."

Remus put down his glass and for the first time noticed the odd shadowy range of unopened parcels and packages on the plastic veneer counter, all of his favourites, from the place that didn't do deliveries. He thought guiltily of the desperate, unhappy fumble in the alley way with Mr. Uncharismatic whilst imagining Sirius trudging back through the London night with the bags of steaming food, alone.

He attempted to sober himself a little. "Thanks Pads, think I'll have it for breakfast if that's ok with you."

"Yeah... whatever." but Sirius sounded hurt. There was a silence in which Remus could hear his own noisy breath. He wobbled towards the sofa and plonked down next to Sirius, who had drawn his arms up around himself and closed his eyes once more, his lips drawn together in a thin line that usually indicated anger.

"I had a really shitty night Pads..."

"Yeah?" Sirius didn't sound all that sympathetic.

"Yeah."

Nothing. Remus felt himself getting angry in a sluggish way. Why did it always have to be like this with Sirius? Why was it always a game, the rules never the same two days in a row? And the only way to be forgiven was to admit defeat...which he hated.

"You were right, you know...we should have just gone to the pub or something." Still silence. Sirius inhaled and tightened his lips more but said nothing.

Remus sank down into the old sofa, feeling the shameful low that accompanies a night of heavy drinking and bad behaviour. His eyes were beginning to close now and his legs felt heavy. Why did it always have to be like this? Keeping Sirius happy, playing along with the little guilt trips until he was forgiven. He wasn't his wife for Merlin's sake...not his boyfriend...just friends, roommates, that's all...

He kept getting a potent whiff of aftershave that didn't belong to him and it made his stomach turn. That guy hadn't smelt nearly as nice as Sirius did right now. Sirius, who sat there as cold and as unfeeling as alabaster. Remus wondered vaguely why they kept it up, this odd friendship, the awkward moments. He felt himself swaying towards the warm mass of the other body...

"I missed you Moony..." Sirius finally said, in a very quiet voice, almost as if he didn't want to be heard.

But Remus had already fallen asleep on his shoulder.

---

They usually brush their teeth at the same time, jostling for space in the narrow bathroom and knocking elbows because Remus insists on using his left hand. Sirius has quite seriously decided that this is the only decent way to start the day (bugger a healthy breakfast and a brisk walk) even if it does occasionally mean that he gets splattered with a greenish, peppermint foam as Remus bursts out laughing. However, foam or not, it also means he gets a few minutes of close contact with a generally topless Remus and he manipulates this situation to its full advantage, poking and tickling at the other boy to prolong this moment of strange, dentally hygienic intimacy.

Sometimes, they leave messages or rude illustrations for each other on the condensed mirror.

This morning, Remus has already left and a labour of love awaits the drowsy Sirius.

"To my most excellent, sensitive, idiotically handsome flatmate and friend – we are out of loo roll! But I saved you spring rolls for breakfast and there is milk. From your insensitive, not nearly-as-clever-or-handsome pal, Moony x"

---

That evening, Remus is washing his hands and catches sight of a message on the mirror.

"Dearest Moony, you are most certainly bloody gorgeous and sensitive and good and if you'd let me, I'd marry you in a flash – thanks for the spring rolls lover x"

Remus laughs it off nervously but reads it twice more, just to be certain. He doesn't wipe it away.

---

"A bloke?! For fucks sake, a bloke?!" The bin went scattering to the floor, half-eaten rotting food spraying everywhere, tea bags sloppy and grim, splattering the cabinets with watery liquid.

"Sirius calm down..."

"A man?! Are you being fucking serious?!" An empty wine bottle hits the floor, but doesn't smash, just bounces and chips slightly at the neck, infuriatingly. It smashes in a most satisfying way when he stamps on it though.

"How long?!"

"Sirius, don't..."

"No, I'm being really fucking serious right now – how long? How long has it been?!"

Books and puzzles and parchments thrown to the floor.

"I can't believe you're being like this – you accepted me for being a fucking werewolf, a...a...monster, but you can't accept me for being gay? What in the hell is wrong with you?!" He ducks a cup that gets hurtled somewhere close to his head.

"I thought we were friends, you never listen to anything I bloody say...SIRIUS LISTEN TO ME!"

A plate and the salt pot fall to the floor. The plate smashes and then there is silence as the salt pot rolls under the coffee table. Remus grasps his wand and feels a shudder of tangible fear. Sirius looks at the other man, his cheeks furiously red, his breath flaring through his nostrils, damp black hair hanging in front of his eyes. A small amount of blood drips from his foot onto the lino with a quiet patter.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low.

"Do not...do not insinuate, in any manner, in any form whatsoever, that I have somehow failed to listen to you. I have made my mistakes and I have repented for them more times than I thought it was physically possible. I've apologised until I can't apologise anymore. I've worked hard to regain your trust and your friendship and I've worked hard to change myself to be what you wanted me to be and I think you'll agree that, despite the errors I have made in the past, I've never wronged you since – and if you would actually listen to me, and I mean really, really listen, instead of presuming that I'm cold and that I have no feelings and that I can be taken for granted,you would know that I have no intention whatsoever of ever, ever betraying you or hurting you ever again. And that is complete and utter honesty.

But if you...if you even so much as dare to suggest that I haven't listened to you, then I can't see how this can work any longer. I've listened to you, day in day out, for the last Merlin knows how many years – and everything you've said, every tiny word that you've ever uttered, I've kept in here."

He indicated his heart in an embarrassed but furious gesture.

"Because everything you say to me really matters, really, really means something. Everything you say, everything you do, each and every day, sticks in my mind and I can't get rid of it and I never will be able to get rid of it. When I'm fighting and I just about can't take it anymore, the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that when I'm done with the blood and the bodies and the fear at least I can come home and you'll be there, waiting for me. I can't sleep without knowing you're in the next room. I can't eat when you're away. I can't be happy when you are sad. I can't be anything without you.

And if it's just a game, the little touches, the little glances, those moments...then I'm sick of it. I can't play it anymore. And I think...I hope that you feel... the same." He laughs a short, painful laugh.

"And even if you say that you don't feel the same, it won't make a damn bit of difference. You can send me away but I'll never leave, not really...because I can't. I carry you with me all the time. Every little bit of you. Every word, every sentence, every laugh, every smile...everything. "

And then he puts his head down, pushes a hand to his forehead, pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to leave the room, but not before he adds:

"For somebody who is very intelligent Remus, you can be really stupid sometimes..."

Remus cleans the flat meticulously and slowly in a quiet, dazed stupor. He thoroughly washes each and every piece of dirty crockery, retrieves the salt pot, and plays it all over and over again in his head.

"I can't be anything without you."

Nobody has ever put that level of dependence on Remus. Sirius, Sirius, just standing there like that, with his face hurt and like...well...like Remus has never seen before...saying all those things to him and he can't even begin to take it in.

"and if you would actually listen to me, and I mean really, really listen, instead of presuming that I'm cold and that I have no feelings and that I can be taken for granted..."

This hurts Remus a lot because he's never thought this about Sirius. Sirius is probably one of the warmest people he has ever met, kind, endlessly generous... a little blind at times but...but Remus is cautious. He knows the merit and also the necessity of self preservation...he also knows the loneliness.

And whenever Sirius' hand was on him or whenever Sirius was close to him, so close that he could smell his hair, his breath, he would think how nice it would be just to turn around and kiss him and have him kiss back. Then the sirens would start going off in his mind and he would be trapped again in some endless, black corridor, scrabbling desperately away from whatever was coming at the other end and the old fear would engulf him and he would run. He can't let himself get this close. He can't get involved in games and trysts, not anymore.

But Sirius...gorgeous, ridiculous Sirius isn't just playing games with him...is he?

"I can't be anything without you."

And Remus is quickly running out of excuses.

---

Sirius rouses drowsily to hear a faint knocking on his bedroom door. He doesn't know what time it is, doesn't want to move from the clammy bedding, doesn't want to deal with the slight pain in his foot. The sky is dark outside but night isn't quite here yet, the pinkish tinge of the winter sun still clinging hopefully around the London rooftops. It looks dry and cold and he wonders vaguely if it will snow after all. They had a rainy, mild Christmas but in the last few weeks the temperature has dropped and the sky is clear and starry. His head hurts.

The knocking stops.

"Sirius?"

He says nothing, pushes his face into the scrunched up pillow. He can't see Remus now, can't face the humiliation. Can't think about the curve of shoulders and the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Sirius, can I come in?"

He wants to scream no, tell him he can't come in ever again because he is sick of getting attached to people who leave him and people who never really loved him to begin with. Sirius rarely thinks about Regulus but when he does, he feels a deep stinging pain somewhere in his gut and he is reminded of the photograph that he keeps of the two of them, locked away in a teak box at the back of his sock drawer. Maybe he'll look at it again soon.

But he can't say these things. He can't deny Remus, he never could. He gives in.

"Yeah..." The door opens gently and Remus steps into the gloom.

"I've got something for you..."

Sirius doesn't really have the energy to look but sleepy curiosity gets the better of him. He cringes inside when he sees Remus' face because it makes him remember everything all over again – the other man, the other man kissing Remus and putting his hands all over Remus and Remus kissing back. Sirius feels sick again and asks himself the same question that he has asked for the past 7 hours: if Remus likes men, why couldn't it be me?

"Look" he holds something out and Sirius squints his eyes.

"It's...it's a pair of slippers...you know, just like when we first decided to move in together? I know its stupid I just thought...I don't know. I just thought you'd remember and find it funny...maybe."

Sirius takes in the brown, plaid slippers and smiles slowly to himself as he recollects that night.

"Oh yeah...forgotten all about that." But of course he hasn't. He still remembers Remus' glowing eyes in the darkness that night. Long legs stretched out in front of him as he takes another draw from the cigarette. He doesn't want to forgive Remus this easily, but seeing his palm on the bed sheet, the way his wrists look in the dimming light and already he is falling miserably all over again. Why does he do this to him?

"I just wanted to show you that I do listen...and I do remember the things you say...and I'm...I'm really sorry I didn't tell you Sirius. I mean it, I'm so sorry." Sirius shuffles up until he is resting on his elbows and Remus' eyes meet his. Remus' eyes that flow like honey and look so bloody apologetic that he just can't bear it. Manipulative sod. And then he adds, with a sly, knowing grin in his chuffing accent: "Am reyt sorry Pads..." And Sirius cracks.

"Oh bloody hell Moony you sod, its alright...I'm not angry...well, bit embarrassed about the fact that I made that ridiculous speech of course..."

"It wasn't ridiculous..."

"Oh it was and you know it!" Sirius is surprised at how angry he sounds and Remus sits back awkwardly, so he softens again "But...it was all true...every bit. I promise."

And just as Sirius thinks he might finally have the courage to do something about it, to pull Remus down into the bed with him and make him realise just what he means to him, to kiss him until there is nothing left (show him what its really like to have a good snog, not some back alley fumble with some twat)...there is a knock at the door and the flat is flooded with the voices of James, Lily and Peter.

"Helllo, anyone home?"

"Oi! Helloo! Where are you two, you lazy good for nothings? Crikey, why is it so clean in here?"

The living room light flickers on and Remus jumps back a mile from the bed. He takes one last look back at Sirius, wets his lips and enters the living room. Sirius groans in frustration and flops backwards onto the pillow.

"Hello you lot! This is a surprise, didn't expect all this – Peter mate! How are you? Not seen you in ages pal, how are tricks?"

Sirius lies still, hearing the three men chatter and exchange that still school boyish banter... talking, he notices, about anything but reality. He hears Peter making a lot of vague excuses and he wonders again where he has been. Sirius's own absence has been noted and he knows in a moment or two that Lily will disturb him – 3,2,1...

"Sirius Black, what on earth are you doing in bed at this time of day? Come on, get up, we're going out – Merlin you stink, have you done anything today? C'mon, shower, shit and shave or whatever it is you vulgar lot used to say – we're not staying in tonight, I'll go stir crazy if I have to stay in that house and look at books for one minute longer!" And for once Sirius is glad of Lily's boisterous way of automatically tidying up the room as she throws his dirty laundry into the hamper with impeccable aim and hangs up his jacket. He watches her for a minute and smiles.

"Nice to see you too Evans" His voice is croaky and dry.

"You sound ill, are you ill?" She comes over to the bed and sits on it with a smile, poking him in the ribs. "I really hope so, you rotten sod."

"Of course not my sweet, just been pining for you!" and with a laugh he bounds up, pins her down on the bed and covers her in wet, sloppy dog kisses until she is squealing with laughter and kicking her legs in the air. James comes bursting in like a tornado to stop the outrage. Peter and Remus are smiling from the doorframe but Remus is smiling in an apologetic, shy manner and Sirius tries not to see it.

"Get your own bloody girlfriend Padfoot, you mangy mutt!" But he isn't angry really...well, maybe a little. Sirius slumps back in the bed, grinning, arms folded under his head.

"Come on, up and at 'em!" Lily recovers herself and grabs hold of the end of the duvet, ready to yank it down the bed with a mischievous smile on her face.

"You better have boxers on under there Black, you dirty bugger!"

---

Peter, James and Lily make themselves comfortable on the sofa with 'pre-drinks' (half a bottle of red wine mixed with some flat lemonade) as Sirius and Remus go through their separate 'going out' toilette routines: for Remus, this generally means a quick, brisk shower, followed by examining himself and his scars in the mirror for 15 minutes while he decides if moisturiser would help to even the skin tone (like the advert says) and then frantically realising he has wasted 15 minutes and has nothing to wear, meaning he must resort to raiding Sirius' sometimes questionable collection of clothing for something half decent (and, if he is feeling particularly swish, something clean.)

For Sirius, this means a 40 minute shower, in which he washes and conditions his hair twice with a specialist mango shampoo that he can't really afford and doesn't admit to buying to anyone but Remus, 30 minutes of intense styling of aforementioned hair to achieve a 'I never style my hair' kind of look, 10 minutes of admiring his abs in the mirror and approximately 5 minutes of decision making on what to wear – generally, he has found, that whatever he finds on the floor looks amazing on him 90% of the time and that's a percentage he doesn't need to argue with.

Sirius comes out of the shower, struts around unnecessarily in the kitchen in his towel for 15 minutes in the hope that he will make James jealous and then Lily blush, then goes back to find something to wear after much heckling by Peter and James. Despite that, he can't help but be grateful for the fact the other three showed up. His declaration of love – ugh, he thinks, declaration of love - is still hanging around, unresolved...unanswered. And on the way back to his bedroom, he peeks in at Remus, who is stood (also in his towel) staring into the abyss of tweeds and lumpy jumpers and cardigans.

Remus has a long, wiry defined body – shoulder blades that jut out slightly, smooth dimples at the base of his back, long thin arms...hip bones, smooth and ivory...smattering of scars across the ribcage...

Sirius coughs.

"You ok there Moony?" Remus' eyes dart to him, giving him one quick and not so discreet all over scan, and then his cheeks flare with colour and he turns back to observing the place where fashion comes to die.

"Sirius...yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Just wondering what the hell I'm going to wear..."

"Well...do you want to borrow that grey jumper again?" Sirius can't quite meet Remus' eyes when he says it. Remus runs his tongue along his bottom teeth, a familiar gesture of insecurity.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah...yeah, of course. After all – you do look good in it..." and Sirius can't hold back the small, cheeky smile.

"Not as good as you though, right?"

And Sirius barks a laugh, launching the jumper at Remus.

---

The streetlights have come on by the time they set off to the pub and snow has started falling very lightly. The air is brisk and Sirius feels refreshed after the long, difficult day.

James, Lily and Peter walk up front, Lily bending her head low to listen intently to what Peter is telling her and James, simply looking at the snow falling under the glow of the street lamps with a slight, pleased smile on his face.

Remus and Sirius walk quietly behind, hands tucked into pockets and thick scarves wrapped around their necks. Sirius isn't sure what to say, so he settles for the very British option of discussing the weather.

"Bloody freezing!"

"Not half!"

And then, in the dark, Remus quickly pushes his hand inside Sirius' pocket and grasps his cold hand. Sirius tenses, gasps.

"Don't – just...just don't say anything" Sirius tries not to but the feeling of those long, cold fingers clasped around his own sends shivers all over his body and he's never felt that rush of elation and excitement before, his stomach flipping wildly. He holds on tight.

"Merlin Moony..." He mutters and he squeezes Remus' fingers to try and express what he is feeling.

"I know...lightning bolts, right?" whispers Remus, beaming from ear to ear.

---

"I can't believe its snowing. Isn't it beautiful...wouldn't it just be the most romantic thing to have your first kiss in the snow, just like this?" and Lily lays a dreamy head on James' arm as they walk home from the pub, deliciously warmed by the alcohol.

"Why, where was your first kiss?" asks Peter, rubbing his gloveless hands together for warmth.
"Ha, nowhere this romantic...I think the Quidditch stadium or something...ooo it was dreadful!" laughs Lily and James shakes his head.

"Not surprised," Sirius says, "Bet it was like kissing a bowl of porridge kissing our Prongs!" and that gets a good laugh all round. They come to a corner and slow down with the motion of people who know that they have to part and go back to a less than happy reality, like the curtain being brought down at the end of a play.

"Well...time for me to get going I suppose, nice seeing you all again..." Peter says this in a tense, formal manner, as though he is addressing some relatives at a wedding, not as though these are his four closest friends in the whole world. He looks around slightly nervously and Sirius wonders discontentedly what exactly is eating at Peter. They say their goodbyes and he shudders off into the night, their eyes following him as he disappears into the darkness.

"We had better get going too...it's been so nice seeing you two again, don't stay away too long, yeah?" and Lily hugs them both in turn and Sirius can't help but feeling like he and Remus are two little children, being coddled by their wise, grown up Nanny.

"Yeah, we'll do it again soon...night Pads, night Moony – don't do anything I wouldn't do, eh?"

"Night you two, bye!" and then they are gone, arms linked in the snowy night.

They stare after them in silence for some time.

"It's still pretty early...what do you want to do? Get food? Could get a Chinese..."

"Not hungry really..."

"No, me neither..."

Silence as they shuffle their feet in the snow.

"Why don't we just go for a walk?"

"Ok." The two men set off walking, matching pace as the snow folds in thicker and deeper, finding themselves heading into the centre of London, still thronging and alive, with people rushing from the theatre to restaurants and condensed taxis full of fashionable young women looking demure through the misted windows. Lights twinkle off of the Thames and the breeze is bitterly icy. People in scarves and gloves trot about with steaming cups of hot chocolate in cardboard cups, their glasses steaming up and their noses pinched red by the wind.

Remus has that nostalgic, romantic look on his face that he only ever gets when he has been on the whisky. Sirius watches him carefully and considers reaching out to grab his hand, just to feel that electricity once more.

"It's great, isn't it? Living here...I know it's not perfect and everything and I know stuffs pretty hard right now but...it's great really, isn't it? I wouldn't change it for the world...that grotty flat, the low wages, the long hours..."

"The heating that doesn't work half of the time..."

"The radiators that need bleeding everyday..."

"The leaky taps..."

"The mouldy tiles..."

There was a silence. Remus runs his hand through his hair.

"I shouldn't say these things really...not with the war on. Not with people dying...it's not right. And I'm no help whatsoever..." he looks up at the sky and the moon is beginning to look threatening. Only a week or so. Sirius' sees Remus' eyes change, the pupils dilating and he knows that already, Remus can feel the change coming.

"You're allowed to be happy you know Moony...it's not a crime." Remus considers this for a moment, shakes his head and dislodges a few snowflakes, then turns to face Sirius with searching eyes.

"Are you happy?" and he edges closer, his hand on the railing moving closer to Sirius. Sirius inhales sharply and finds that he can't look away.

"I've already told you...I'm happy when you are."Then Sirius chews on his lip for a moment, distractedly. The honking of taxi horns blurt somewhere in the background.

Don't mess me around Sirius...not now. Let's pretend it's normal. Let's just pretend we're normal.

"Why didn't you tell me Moony? I wouldn't have been angry..."

"You were angry..."

"Only because of...that guy. I mean, Merlin Moony, he's not your type!"

And then suddenly he couldn't speak because Remus was kissing him and the world wasn't still anymore. Remus was kissing him, at last, after everything and his mouth tasted of whisky and his lips were chapped but somehow soft and Sirius was putting his hands up, running them through that gorgeous, crazy hair just like he had always wanted to do and frantically kissing him back, so hard, like if he stopped it would just be a dream. Their teeth grazed and Sirius felt Remus shudder, lean into him more, tugging at Sirius' hair, tongue flicking at his own and he wrapped his arms around Remus' back, that overwhelming rush of elation flaring up through his soul again.

When air was running desperately short, they finally (begrudgingly) separated, panting, staring at each other. Sirius licked his lips, threw his head back and laughed.

"Are you alright?" Remus croaked.

"Brilliant. Well, no, brilliant but er... terrified actually." Sirius laughed nervously again, hands sliding down Remus' back, touching every muscle and ripple with a renewed vigour.

"Me too. Good-terrified though." And he reached over to place soft kisses all across Sirius' jaw. Remus looked at him, slowly brushing the black, shaggy fringe out of his eyes. Sirius felt like barking with joy.

"You're stupidly handsome you know – I've always thought so. Its just absurd, nobody should be allowed to look that mysterious...and then you had to get that chuffing leather jacket, nearly killed me." Sirius pulled him closer with a wicked grin.

"What about the leather trousers then?"

"Oh god, don't..."

They exchanged another kiss, more slowly this time and Sirius felt that odd flying sensation again as he tried to memorise exactly what it was like to be kissing Remus Lupin, just in case he had to stop one day.

They parted again and Remus looked around thoughtfully.

"Lily was right."

"What about?"

"It does make a first good kiss...out here, on a night like this. With the snow..."

---

Sirius has his books out, studying once more with a confused, slightly angry look on his face, chewing gently on the end of his quill. Remus pretends to read the paper but is actually doing a careful stock take of Sirius' face. The slightly pouty mouth, the long, clean line of his nose, the haughty cheeks...the infamous chin and jaw...hair tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of his way...

"You should meet my parents." Remus suddenly decides, thinking aloud. Sirius doesn't look up.

"Already met them."

"No, I mean, properly...come up and stay for a bit. They'd love it – Mum already thinks you're Prince Charming."

This gets his attention.

"What about your Dad?"

"Well...I admit it, he wasn't so keen. But I think it's the hair mainly. He hates long hair, thinks it makes us look like hippies. Not awfully fond on having his toes run over either if we're being really honest..."

Sirius smiles and leans back in his chair, scratching his chin, wondering just how much he can milk this 'Prince Charming' thing...

"So...what, this would be like...a boyfriend meeting the parents type thing? Kind of like 'Eyup ma and pa, I've been down South for a bit and its corrupted my good, wholesome Northern ways and here's my new boyfriend – met him on the corner of a street in Soho and we've been shagging like Hippogriffs ever since, now, what's for tea?'"

Remus walks around the table and pulls himself up onto the edge, swinging his legs like a kid and looking down at Sirius with a fond smile.

"No, not exactly...in the very least not the Soho bit...they'd never believe that, you look much more the 'Hampstead Heath' type. Seriously though, I don't think I can expect them to deal with the fact that I'm gay as well as a werewolf...they'd had enough disappointment for one lifetime, don't you think?"

Sirius shakes his head exasperatedly.

"Oh Moony, how could anyone be disappointed with you? You're bloody perfect!"

And he wraps his arms around Remus' waist and kisses him tenderly and Remus thinks that although there really is no such thing as perfection, Sirius might be the closest thing to it.

---

Cold, frost bitten finger startle him from an uneasy sleep, sloping lightly down the sides of his arms, coming to rest tantalisingly, achingly, on the soft flesh of his stomach. Time has passed and snow is falling once again. They hardly see Lily and James now and trips to the pub or the park, late night kisses by the Thames, are just something that other people do. They have a new member in their group and he is as small and fragile as a baby bird but already his eyes are intense, soul searching...just like Lily's. Whenever they get chance, they go and see him and worship him with little trinkets and long, wistful hugs. Sirius smells his warm little head and sighs happily, curling his big, rough hands around the tiny little palms and Remus has to look away because this is too pure, too perfect.

"Where were you?" he wants to remove the hands from his stomach but can't quite bring himself to do it.

"Don't ask me that...you know I can't tell you..."

"Why not?"

"Don't start this again..."

"I don't see why you can't tell me, we're both on the same side, what difference does it make?"

Silence. Silence that kills them both. The mutual thought of it. Are we on the same side?

"Some of my papers have gone missing again..." the hands tense.

"So?" A sigh.

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm just saying...I... probably misplaced them that's all" He knows that he hasn't.

The hands relax a little and finally, that sleepy rush of familiar, guilt ridden lust stirs again. He kisses the back of the warm neck that is in front of his face, rubbing his nose gently against the back of the ear.

"You still trust me don't you?"

"Yes, of course." No...not really. Not anymore. But he can't stop the moan that involuntarily escapes from his lips as he rolls over to gain access to those lips, those lips that he loves, those lips that lie to him. Later on, when he comes with his teeth sunk into the white shoulder, he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Why do you do this to me?

September 3rd 1981.

"Look...maybe...maybe we should leave things for a while...just...I can find somewhere else. Things are too hard right now...too risky..."

Remus stares out into the street, holding a cup of tea in his cold hands. His breath frosts the glass. Litter becomes a damp, soggy mass on the pavements and water gushes out from the drains. It has rained for a month. He can't think of anything to say.

"I'll pay the rent for you if you need me to...but I can't stay here."

"That isn't necessary." Too sharp, too harsh. He winces.

"Remus..."

He turns around and does his level best to look evenly at Sirius.

"Yes?"

Waking up together with soft, shy smiles and no words at all. The city gently murmuring outside the window and the sheets warm from the sun. The gentle dab of a thumb pad on a bottom lip. Wrapped up in their own world. Should he say it? Should he say it now?

No. Just kiss him and he'll understand. He always understands.

"Nothing...I need to go now."

"...goodbye."

"Bye."

He returns to the window and watches as Sirius crosses the street and disappears around the corner. It still rains.

October 29th 1981.

He comes around with a thick mouth, caught in the no-man's land between sleep and waking. A thumping noise is rumbling somewhere in the flat, disturbing him from much needed sleep. His eyes sting. At first he thinks he is dreaming and pulls the quilts over his head but the thumping continues...not thumping, knocking. It's somebody knocking at the door.

Remus groans as he stumbles from the bed and out into the cold living room, avoiding the furniture with his hand held out in front of him. What time is it?

"Remus?"

He stops dead. The voice cuts him to the core.

In an instant, he realises he has left his wand in the bedroom. He realises his defences are down. He realises that Sirius could storm in here and kill him, kill him right now and nobody would ever know. Nobody would care.

"Remus? I know you're there..."

The door handle rattles. Sweat prickles the back of his neck. He steps backwards.

"What do you want Sirius?"

If he runs he can make it to the bedroom before Sirius breaks the door down. He can grab his wand, take cover, cast the first spell...quick, sharp, no time for delay...time to focus...focus, focus...

"Moony just open the door..."

"Why?" Stepping backwards now slowly, slowly...be stealthy, be light footed like the wolf...trick the dog, don't give him the chance to hear you...

"Moony...Remus...please...just...I just need to see you...please."

Remus feels himself flinch, unwillingly, his guts twisting. Sirius sounds strange. What if Sirius is hurt? What if something has happened? What if he needs help?

"Remus?" The door shakes again, more aggressively this time.

But what if it's a trick? He's betrayed you before, he could do it again. You could have died because of him. He left you. He left you and he didn't care...don't be a fool, stupid boy, don't get soft now, get your wand...get your wand now before it's too late...

"Go away Sirius..." and he hates himself for not being strong enough to say it without his voice breaking.

"Remus...please..."

There are moments in life when the head wishes to lead you one way and the heart another. For Remus Lupin, these moments always seem to involve Sirius Black.

He stares at the door and wonders why life has to be this hard and why he has to be so weak.

He doesn't want to do any of the things he does next but he can't help it, can't help it when he walks towards the door knowing full well that this could be it, this could be his last moment, can't help it when he puts his hands on the handle, fumbles for the key, takes the chain off the latch...can't help it when Sirius' mouth clashes with his own, their faces wet and Sirius' hands all over him, desperate and clawing, tearing away his clothes.

"Oh god...oh Merlin Moony...I missed you...missed this, missed everything..."

"Missed you...need you...don't go...don't go again..."

Can't help it when he is shoving Sirius up against the wall, can't help it when he is grinding against him and his cock is hard before he can even think about it and he is moaning as Sirius latches onto his skin.

"I won't, I swear...need you so much...nothing without you Moony, nothing at all..."

Can't help it when they fall into bed together, can't help how much he has needed this, can't help how fucking lonely he has been, can't help how much he thrills when Sirius strips him, nails scraping and teeth nipping and kissing in all the most secret, the most sacred of places. Can't help but throw his arms around Sirius' back, all cold sweat and lean muscle and desperation, can't help but cry and scream and laugh when Sirius fucks him hard and rough and fast all through the night, as though the bruises he leaves will explain it all in the morning...will lead him back to the beginning of this, their history...their history together.

We're going to be alright...I know it...I know it now...chanted in the mind but never spoken, silent, played out in dark kisses and the press of the forehead to a collar bone...

"Don't leave me."

"Never. Never again...never. "

---

And then all of a sudden people are celebrating and rejoicing and the world is perfect once more.

Apart from it isn't and time has taken on a strange, deformed quality and Remus can't seem to separate the sunrise from the sunset because everything looks the same blurry, delirious shade of grey to him now.

He is vaguely aware of breaking the rules, of behaving 'unacceptably', of the smell of his mother and also of hastily packed suitcases and far off, muffled voices making arrangements. He isn't sure how he got home. The last time he shut his eyes, his face had been pressed against cold cobblestones and he had been vaguely aware of a foot in his ribcage.

"That's right sweetheart, you're coming to stay with me and dad for a few days..."

He tries to open his mouth to speak but it feels gluey and dry, his throat rasping as though somebody has filled it with ground glass. He can't feel his teeth and then sits howling with laughter because you can't feel your teeth anyway, can you? And that is funny, that is really, really, really fucking funny! He'll tell Prongs all about that when he sees him.

He keeps wondering what that dreadful smell is.

"Come on lad, that's enough of that...try and stand up...come on...Jesus wept, how much has he had to drink?"

"Make sure the heating is off before we leave..."

And he wants to say that they need to leave it on because Sirius will be home soon and he'll need hot water for a bath but he can't get the words out because Sirius will never come home again...none of them will ever come home again...

Remus Lupin blacks out, leaving his aging father to swear and struggle with the dead weight of his sons reeking body. His mother sobs quietly into a patterned handkerchief and some obliging, sombre faced acquaintances from Hogwarts help to load his meagre luggage into the back of the old family car.

---

When he comes around, his face is drenched with sweat, pushed up against the faded upholstery of the car seats. His ears feel as though they are stuffed with cotton wool and every time the car jerks, his stomach lurches. They are rattling away up the M1, away from London and misery and Sirius, up home, up North...

"You're so Northern sometimes I can't bloody believe it! Shouldn't you be down mining in a well or running about on t'moors or something?"

"Don't you mean a pit?" he croaks.

"What was that darling? Oh Merlin, John he's awake again..."

"Its ok Sarah, we're nearly home now...not long now son, just try and sleep again..."

His transformation that month is worse than anything he has experienced before. Wherever the wolf looks, it sees blood and betrayal, the whole world drenched in a hazy red hue. His senses seem turned up to an extraordinary level, constant, high pitched ringing penetrating his brain and making him wince as he bares his teeth and shudders at the fantasy of bare, white flesh. His body is so contorted that he thinks his bones might actually be broken and he howls and bays and scratches and bites until the morning comes and spits him back out. Then it is time to begin remembering all over again.

"Oh John, quickly, come in here...oh god..."

His mother's arms go around him and he slumps on her soft, sagging chest, feeling eight years old all over again. He is sobbing in that harrowing way that he knows is breaking his mother's heart but he just can't help it. She holds his head and strokes his hair and says something soothing. He feels his guts twist and suddenly salty, hot blood is spluttering up from his throat, the scent of copper flooding through his nose.

"He killed them mum...he said he loved them but he killed them anyway..."

"I know darling, I know..."

"Why did he do it, mum? Why did he do it?"

"I don't know sweetheart...I just don't know. He was a very troubled boy darling, he was very lost...war changes people..." But she doesn't sound convinced, even by her own feeble explanations.

"I trusted him mum..."

"I know, I know...careful John, I've never seen him like this before..."

A rough, angry voice near his ear. "I know how to hold my own son...I haven't forgotten..." Remus cries out as he is jerked roughly up into arms that struggle under his weight, head flopping as though his spine is broken. He feels a bit like a marionette, abandoned by its puppeteer.

"When is he coming back mum? I miss him..."

Silence fills the room and he hangs there, swaying in his fathers arms, like a sleepy toddler. When his father speaks, his voice is low and dangerous and Remus can't figure out why.

"He isn't coming home Remus. Sirius Black is never coming home. And you're not going to say anything like that ever again, do you understand me?"

"For the love of God John, he doesn't know what he's saying , calm down..."

And then Remus understands perfectly.

---

A few weeks pass. Mrs. Lupin is preparing a pot of rich soup in the kitchen. In the living room, Remus and his father watch the muggle television set with blank faces. Remus is wrapped up in a thick blanket and his face is paunchy, bruised black and blue. They've managed, just, to keep him away from the drinks cabinet and now he is acting like a scorned adolescent. She sighs. It makes a change from him bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, she supposes.

The onions are stinging her eyes now. Sirius Black. She still couldn't believe it...such a nice boy. Such a handsome, nice boy. He'd slept in their house. Eaten their food. Borrowed a scarf. She shuddered.

"When is he coming back mum? I miss him..."

She glances into the living room through the doorway and looks at her son's gaunt face. His eyes are red, swollen and puffy and his skin is patterned with a network of ugly broken blood vessels in an off-putting shade of violet. It was wrong, but her heart had twanged with that same old happiness when he had called her 'mum' once more. She had selfishly, guiltily relished his fragile dependence on her, even if it was only for a few moments. She didn't see him much nowadays, wasn't exactly sure what he was doing for a living...all grown up. Learning that things weren't always perfect...hardly ever perfect actually, she reflected. Yes, all grown up. Apart from, huddled there on the sofa, he looked so small and vulnerable that she was convinced for a second that it was her lanky, awkward 14 year old boy again, just on the verge of erupting into another epic growth spurt, telling her some wild story about what he and his group of mismatch friends had been up to at Hogwarts recently. And, despite her motherly reprimanding tone and her clucking tongue as she had shook her head in disapproval, she had been so very happy for him. At last, it seemed, he had found his way in the world and things weren't so bad after all...well...

"I miss him..."

She was fairly certain, no let's be honest, positive, that her husband hadn't comprehended the real meaning behind those heart wrenching words. In the way that only a mother can, she was able to decipher that 'I miss him' actually meant 'I love him'...or perhaps, 'loved him.' Yes, maybe her husband hadn't understood, but she certainly did. She wasn't surprised they hadn't told anybody. There was a war on, after all.

Sirius Black. No...it just couldn't be.

---

"Who did you say you were moving in with again?" his father demanded in his usual gruff tone.

Remus shook his head, placing the last few important items into his box. Most of the packing had already been done and the majority of his possessions were slowly festering in the new flat, getting accustomed to their new, musky surroundings, miles away in London. Now, only a few small knick-knacks remained for Remus. He had been careful not to put anything in that appeared too childish or nostalgic, after all, he was painfully aware of Sirius' oh-so-cool reputation and didn't think that his ancient stuffed bear, Oswald, would be a welcome addition to the new 'bachelor pad'.

He sighed and rather guiltily propped Oswald onto the bookcase, trying hard not to look at his shiny black button eyes and forlorn little mouth.

"Sirius, Dad, I've already told you this..."

"Sirius? Which ones that? Rattail or whatever you call him?" Remus snorted and reminded himself to tell Peter about that later.

"It's Wormtail Dad, and no, that's Peter – I'm moving in with Sirius, you know, you saw him at the platform that time? He ran over your toe by accident?"His fathers face turned a shade darker as the memory of the overly cocky, overly flirtatious teenager flooded back into his mind.

"Oh bloody hell, not him! Of all the people Remus, Merlin's beard! You've got some perfectly decent friends at Hogwarts, respectable types, what did you have to pick him for? Looks like a bloody girl with all that hair..."

"I've got long hair too Dad you know..."

"And don't I know it! Wouldn't have happened in my day...still, your do isn't as bad as his, looks like some great big bloody shaggy dog or something..." Remus bit his lip to stop from sniggering and closed the lid of the box.

"Oh Dad, he isn't that bad...he should come up and stay sometime, you could get to know each other." His father merely grunted in response, a noise that signified a 'not-on-your-nelly'.

"Oh John really, give him a chance, he's a lovely lad...ever so handsome for his age."

"Mum!"

"Well! I'm just saying, that's all..." and she sucked in her bottom lip in a way that she believed was most becoming and smugly patted her home-dyed up-do, remembering the time when Sirius had told her that she was the very image of Greta Garbo.

"Well...if you've had quite enough of dissecting every aspect of my personal life, I think that's me all done."

"Oh darling!" and his mother gave him one of her speciality wet faced hugs (which, naturally, being a young man with a certain reputation to uphold, he attempted to shrug off...but not too quickly, just to make sure that he still got a good whiff of the lavender scent that constantly accompanied her.)

When it came to his father, he received a formal but concerned pat and squeeze on his shoulder.

"And how are you getting down there?"

"Sirius' motorbike, he'll be here in a few minutes I expect."

John Lupin's skin darkened once more, his eyes widening as his mouth fell open and began to form the word 'motorbike' – but one flash of Remus' mother's eyes soon quelled the impending outbreak. He took a deep breath.

"Right. Right. Ok. Motorbike. Of course. Just er...just...just don't do anything too stupid, will you? London's a dangerous place – not just because of the war and all but watch out for buses too...and try and not use the tube. I've heard bad things about it. And don't take anything from anybody you don't know. And don't start smoking! Your mother would be dreadfully upset if something happened to you...and...it wouldn't be good for me either. Not really. So...so just don't."

"Yes Dad..." and he stooped down to pick up the last box.

"Let me get that for you son..." and his father practically wrestled the last box away from Remus' clutch and walked, rather too quickly Remus thought, to the front door. Unfortunately for Mr. Lupin, a cacophony of blaring horns and revs indicated the arrival of Sirius and within a few minutes the living room was filled up with the presence of the gleaming, leathery Maurader himself.

"Hi Mrs. Lupin, how are you?" He leaned over to kiss her powdery cheek, "You look lovely – have you had your hair done? Hey! Who is this little guy?" Sirius' eye was caught by the soft, patchy little creature sitting on top of the bookcase. He reached across and examined the tubby little belly with a warm twinkle in his eye. Remus could swear that Oswald's fixed mouth of three black stitches was almost smiling.

"That's...that's nothing, just...Oswald." And he attempted to get him away from Sirius.

"Oswald, eh? Remus, you weren't seriously going to leave him here were you, you heartless bugger –oops, pardon my parseltongue Mrs. L! Come on Oswald, you're coming with us!"

Remus looked sheepishly across at his mother as though he could somehow make up for his friends behaviour if he looked suitably apologetic– luckily for him, his mother was blushing and pretending not to admire herself in the mirror.

---

Remus is playing Wizards Chess. Somehow, the board is twisted and warped, and it allows him to play with both Lily and James at the same time. But they won't make a move, won't alter a single piece or position no matter how much he asks them. They just stare at him silently.

A figure enters the room and James' and Lily's eyes suddenly widen. The figure tips the chess board to the floor and when the pieces smash, the noise is deafening and Remus feels the floor spinning, the world collapsing around him.

Then Sirius is on him with a black, bruised mouth, leaving bloodied kisses all over him, the backs of his arms and his thighs, a black rosebud for a mouth and smiling, smiling constantly, but saying nothing.

He wakes up and screams out for his mother like a child. But he is back in London now, back in the cold flat, where the memory of Sirius penetrates every piece of his soul. In the corner of his room, the black robes from the funeral are slumped in a heap. He reaches down by the side of the bed and fumbles for the bottle in the dark. He is moving in a few days, just a few more days.

---

"Petunia, I don't mean to be rude, but I am his family as well, I think I am justified in spending a little time with him."

"How? How in the hell are you family to us?" She muttered violently through her sharp, neat teeth. Remus couldn't answer her. Once upon a time he would have said 'I'm one of James' best friends' or 'I was at Lily's wedding' and that would have sufficed...but James and Lily were cold and dead in the ground and they all stood around in their black suits and dresses pretending to like each other for their sakes. His head was starting to spin again. Too much Whiskey, too little sleep. He was aware of Dumbledore, looking obscure in black, watching him from a small distance.

"Petunia please...just let me hold him..."

Petunia held Harry tightly in her claw like, manicured hands. He noticed with distaste how small her finger nails were.

"Petunia..." He was desperate now, probably on the verge of tears.

She clucked her tongue, glanced around skittishly and finally exhaled an angry, hot sigh.

"Fine...fine. 15 minutes and that is all."

She lumped the soft parcel into Remus' arms and stormed off, the heels of her hideous court shoes sinking into the turf. Remus clutched Harry to his chest and looked down with a wet, tearful smile.

"Hey fella, how are you?" Harry burbled appreciatively and began playing with Remus' tie.

"Well...this is it for you and me I guess. You won't even remember me soon, will you old bean? No. I suppose you won't...but I won't forget you, I promise." He walked a little, distancing himself from the forlorn patchwork gathering of wizards and muggles, thinking it was wrong that he was holding a baby after having had a drink. He found a bench to sit on and they both looked out into the fields and trees that lay beyond.

"You see...we both got duped, me and you. I thought we could trust him..." he could feel the lump in his throat forming, but he had to say this, "but we couldn't. We couldn't. And he betrayed us all. Me, Peter...your mum and dad...even you. And the funny thing is, you know, that he always said that he really, really loved you...I mean really loved you. He told me all the time. He always talked about you...he'd already planned your 18th birthday, isn't that funny? He said he'd always protect you. He was great with you as well, can you remember? And he was really funny...really funny..." Harry looked up at him with twinkling eyes and Remus readjusted their position.

"But you can't trust people just because they are funny or handsome or smart or charming Harry...because they can hurt you anyway. They can take everything you have and sometimes they never give it back." Harry seemed to sense the sadness and anger in Remus' voice, for suddenly he began to snuffle and wobble.

"Oh no, no, no don't cry Harry...please don't cry...this is the last time I'll see you and I wish it wasn't and I wish you could come and live with me but...but you can't. You can't because they say it isn't safe...that I'm not safe. Besides, I'm useless with the nappies and the feeding and stuff – you'd end up wearing tweed and drinking coffee if I had you!" And he laughs at his own joke because there is nobody there to reciprocate it anymore. Remus jiggles him slightly and Harry settles.

"I know that...I know that this doesn't make any sense at all...not after what he did but...I think he meant it you know, when he said that he loved you. I can't explain it but...don't hate him Harry. Leave that to me, to all of us...but don't hate Sirius."

And then he saw Petunia glowering at him, approaching steadily in the corner of his eye.

"I guess its time to say goodbye...I love you little friend, don't forget me, will you?" And he bent down to kiss Harry's soft, pink face one last time, taking one final deep sniff of his wonderful, wholesome scent and wished that there could be room in his life for this heavenly, pure smell instead of the reek of alcohol and misery.

"Goodbye Harry...until we meet again."

---

"Sirius..."

"Remus."

That was the extent of their exchanges for four days. Four days in which Sirius, or a ghost of Sirius, gorged and feasted on doorsteps of yeasty white bread that were slathered in butter and jam, huge drumsticks of roasted chicken with oily skin and heaps of carrots, potatoes, peas, green beans, poached eggs, rashers of thick smoky bacon, baked beans and toast, swilled down with mug after mug of rich, sweet tea and whole packets of sugar topped biscuits. It would appear his appetite was seemingly impossible to curb and the juices of the cooked meat and vegetables rolled down his chin and he didn't have the energy (or the heart) to wipe them away with the filthy skin of the back of his hand. At night, he awoke in a filthy sweat with his blood throbbing through his veins and his misery enveloping him in a blind panic. He chased the panic away with thoughts of honey and jam and potted meat sandwiches that he had somehow once eaten and before he knew it, he would be in the kitchen and raiding every cupboard and tin before it could be prevented and he would be almost ecstatic, orgasmic with the flavours colliding mindlessly over his tongue.

He thought vaguely that he would eventually get around to the other things that needed doing...but for now it was food. Food, his only desire...to eat once more...to eat and eat and eat...

And of course, Remus said nothing, never complained, never questioned. Sirius never seemed to worry about where the food came from or how it was provided. Two places were set at the table each day. Breakfast, dinner and tea were always provided. There would always be extras to munch on; secret tins of chocolates and biscuits. And bread, jam and butter were always in plentiful supply.

On the fifth day, Sirius slowed down and thought about something other than food. Wash. Clean.

He took up a whole day in the bathroom, scouring, scrubbing, cutting, hacking, brushing until he emerged from the bathroom looking taught and red skinned, smelling so clean it cut through the air wherever he walked. He put on the old clothes that had been procured for him and thought that he might actually cry when he realised the shirt had been ironed. He'd forgotten all about ironed clothes. And socks. Just socks.

He walked slowly into the living room, where Remus was bent over, stoking the fire in the grate. Remus. Remus, who in his eyes, had barely changed. Yes, he looked a little older, perhaps a little more silver about the temples – but he still had that tall, languid figure. That careless, elegant way of moving his hands, the unexpected strength. The warm smile and the face that you could read like a book (if he knew how, anyway.) Sirius felt like a dirty fingerprint next to him, like a piece of soiled history that needed eradicating, as though he was somehow encroaching on the martyr like glow that surrounded Remus.

He'd been so preoccupied, so consumed with everything that had happened since the escape (played it over again and again in his mind until he was fit to burst with anger) that he'd barely had time to think about this...the white wrists...the patient smile...

Part of him didn't dare think about it in case it wasn't real...the other part didn't dare think about it in case it was taken away from him. He still hadn't adjusted to life outside of his cell without the predatory vigilance of the dementors.

Remus turned around and smiled.

"Evening Sirius."

He was still startled by how much lower Remus' voice was...lower than it had been at 21.

"Evening." Followed immediately by a rather desperate, "What's for tea?"

"Bangers and mash?"

"What's that?"

There is an awkward silence as Remus raises his eyebrows, runs his tongue over his teeth and considers whether or not he should tell him or whether Sirius is joking. Sirius tries to smile but is frantically scanning his brain, desperately trying to remember what bangers and mash are because it is clearly something that it isn't socially acceptable to forget. Bangers and mash...reminds him of...wooden tables. Something warm. Hogwarts. His smile is cracking now, come on, come on...Peter shovelling in mash potato, fuckingPeterfuckingkillhimri phisheartoutmashpotato...

That's it!

"Oh! Right, yes, love bangers and mash...misheard you...sorry." He isn't fooling anyone but Remus, as always, is too kind and considerate to make a big deal about it and just smiles before heading off into the kitchen.

A few weeks pass. Sirius dares to think that he might actually be...getting better? He isn't sure that's the right phrase. At least he has a routine now. At least he only has nightmares sometimes now, not constantly. Still has trouble sleeping though...sleeps as Padfoot sometimes. Helps him to forget.

Still gets emotional about ironed clothes and toothbrushes.

But he looks better, he has gained weight, gained a bit of muscle tone again, feels a bit more like a person and less like a shadow. Spends less time wallowing in misery. Spends more time watching Remus and worrying about him and worrying about Harry and his friends and finding that he still has some sort of capacity for empathy and compassion, even if he is burning up with hatred most days.

Watches Remus a lot.

Remus still talks to him like nothing has changed. Remus treats him like a sane person, tells him the reality of what is going on – makes him feel validated and worthwhile, allows him to join in the conversation and put forward plans and ideas. Listens to him. Doesn't freak out when sometimes Sirius forgets where he is and starts shaking and goes rather quiet and can't remember that fire is hot and will hurt you if you touch it.

"It's bad Pads, worse than it was before."

And that old nickname. Bittersweet...Moony and Padfoot but no Prongs...not anymore.

And definitely not that piece of shit Wormtail. FuckingWormtailfuckingkillhi mdestroyhim...

"Do you want a brew?"

"Yes please, two sugars." He says automatically and is quite pleased how naturally it has come back to him.

---

Staring into the fire, squashed comfortably into the overstuffed armchair, Sirius thinks again about the past. He doesn't know how to approach this subject with Remus...too embarrassed to simply say: "So, I'm know I've not been around for a while, but are we still going out?"

Going out. Merlin. That's something for young people. He isn't sure what adults say.

He observes Remus from the corner of his eye. Remus is reading, a chocolate bar on the arm of the chair, legs crossed, cup of tea in one hand, glasses sloping down his long nose. He doesn't look old at all really, not to Sirius. He looks at the long, pale fingers clutched around the handle of the cup and feels a faint flutter, thinking about a dark night long ago, when the air was bitterly cold and snow was falling...

"Stop staring at me Sirius" says Remus in a controlled, even voice, not looking up from his book.

"Sorry" but he carries on. Yes, the hair is definitely a bit more silver than it used to be, flecked mainly around his temples and ears...he likes it though. His heart had sung that night in the Shrieking Shack when he saw him again...finally, after all those years of rotting and festering when he thought he might never see his Moony again...and the eyes...well, the eyes are the same as always. Resinous, soulful, occasionally slightly eerie. Can penetrate right through his soul...

A whisper somewhere in the back of his mind..."I know...lightning bolts, right?" He shudders audibly.

Remus sighs, puts his book down and removes his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a few seconds.

"Is there something wrong Sirius?"

"Call me Padfoot. Don't like Sirius. Too formal." Please, please, let me know there is something still there...no dreams, no torture...something real...

Remus folds his hands in his lap and puts on his patient 'teacher' voice.

"Ok...Padfoot."

"I need to ask you something...and I don't want you to get angry with me if it isn't true, if it never happened... because you know I can't help but get confused sometimes."

Remus nodded.

"And sometimes I think things have happened that haven't but...I'm fairly sure I'm right about this one..."

He sees Remus tensing, nervously thumbing the edge of his book, trying desperately to salvage a calm expression, eyes resting on Sirius' forehead.

"We were..."

...seeing each other, a couple, in a relationship, happy, sad, lovers, friends with benefits...destroying each other...

"We were...together...weren't we?"

Remus blinks, nodding his head slowly.

"That's right. Together. Yes."

"And we were happy?"

Remus looked down towards his feet sharply, running an agitated hand along his forehead and Sirius felt the Universe give out from underneath him a little.

"Sometimes. Sometimes...yes, sometimes we were happy." He fumbles for the chocolate, rustling the golden wrapper and breaking a square off, offering a piece to Sirius out of habit. Sirius reaches across and takes it but Remus seems as though he hasn't even noticed, staring into the wall with murky eyes.

"But not always...in fact, most of the time it was awful. It was really fucking awful actually...and you could be...you could be very cold. Very cruel."

Sirius flinches and Remus casts his eyes over him briefly.

"Sorry...I didn't mean it to sound like that. But it's the truth Sirius. I know you don't want anymore lies. I don't blame you of course...I was the same, just the same. Too scared to breathe. Too scared to think. It was how it was. Those people, back then, they weren't us. Just shadows...just impressions of the worst sides of ourselves, that's all. We were brave...undoubtedly, we were brave...but we were stupid Sirius. We were stupid because we were just children. You know that now, don't you?"

Sirius nodded.

"There was...there was no trust, no foundation, nothing. Just a feeling. Something...something, I still don't know what really...I don't know what..." and his aching murmur trailed off into silence, a birds mistaken trill in the night, the call of the sea across the distance, leaving just the vague crackle and whisper of the fire embers as their shadows flickered on the floor.

"But it was worth it all for that feeling...wasn't it?"

Remus observed the lines on Sirius' face, the shrunken mass, the thin trembling hands.

"You tell me. Was it worth it?"

Remus turns away, pressing his index finger to his mouth, thumbing his chin. Silence. Silence, just like he always knew it would be when he asked that question...if he ever asked that question...

But then softly, frail, words...words...

"Of course it was. Always. Always. Forever...always worth it, Moony."

A knife in his side.

"Sirius...don't"

"Start again...we have trust now...we have something..."

"Sirius..."

"Begin now, here, just like before..."

"But it won't be just like before, will it?! Don't you see that? Don't you understand? This isn't our old flat and you haven't just come in from training and James and Lily aren't here anymore...they died Sirius! They died! And so did we..."

And there is a silence that neither of them wanted. Sirius plays with the buttons of his shirt and gets angry at himself because it seems like nowadays he is constantly on the verge of tears or maniacal laughter and he hasn't thought about that disgusting old flat for a very long time and now he can see Lily laid in the grass with her hair tied up and James' palm splayed on the bottom of her back and Remus laying against a tree, asleep and the whole world crumbling, the whole world simply ceasing to exist. The memories carve ugly welts into his heart.

"I didn't mean to say that...its just...how can you possibly know what you want Sirius? We were so much younger then. After all this time...oh Sirius...I've changed..."

"You haven't..."

"You've changed!"

"I haven't...not so much..."

"I think this conversation needs to end before one of us says something we regret."

Remus stands to leave.

"You had a teddy bear called Oswald and you weren't going to bring him to our flat because you were embarrassed and I know you were embarrassed because you stroked your bottom teeth with your tongue and that's what you always do, even now. The Chinese take-away we used to order from was called Chu Ying and we always had to order an extra portion of Hoisin sauce for you to dip your spring rolls in and even then it wasn't enough. One of your jumpers was navy blue with cream stripes and the right cuff was unravelled. You once thought your parents should meet me and I never argued even though I knew your Dad hated me. Your mum used to wear Lavender perfume. You have a scar between your big toe and your fourth toe that itches when the transformation is coming and you used to like it when I scratched it for you. You used to pinch my shampoo and it was really bloody expensive and it smelt of..."

Remus lips were on his before he had time to think.

"Mango. Mango and Lychees."

"Told you we hadn't changed that much."

---

They lay on their backs in the dark blue of the room, a shaft of light from outside filtering across their torsos from the gap in the curtains. The house is still. No wind blows outside. Sirius moves closer, entwining his hand further with Remus' and pressing his nose gently to the side of Remus' white neck. If they could hear traffic whirring outside and if it was a little bit colder, he thought, this would almost be like that first time all over again. The memory is like a star flickering somewhere on a misty night and he tastes the musky sweet sweat on his lips.

"What can you remember Sirius?"

Sirius considers this for some time, enjoying the feeling of Remus' hand gently playing at the back of his neck.

"Oh...everything...and nothing. Can remember practically every prank we ever pulled. Can't remember bugger all about the History of Magic or Divination...can remember Snivellus' horrible face, unfortunately for me...the Dementors knew that was a greater punishment then they could ever dish out..." Remus chuckled softly at this and the old, childish nickname. He looked to his right and observed Sirius quietly, noticing that the other mans face had suddenly developed a tight, upset expression – crumpling like a sheet of white paper in the moonlight.

"And...I...I can remember exactly how James used to look whenever we won a Quidditch match...can remember him laughing, running...or I think I can, anyway. I get confused sometimes. Sometimes I forget he is dead and I think I can see him. Sometimes I just worry that this is all a dream and when I wake up I'll be back there...sometimes I think that I killed them myself and I can see their faces begging me to stop, see Harry screaming in his little crib and then..."

He took a shallow breath in an attempt to stop himself from crying.

"Well. Like I said anyway, I get confused."

Remus has frozen up slightly behind him and the hand has stopped stroking his nape.

"But...you know, some funny things as well Moony...I seem to remember rolling around with Lily on my bed once, in our flat, snogging her! But that can't be right...Prongs would never have liked that...must be getting confused."

"No, he didn't like that at all..." Remus smirked.

"That really happened?"

"Oh you were always mauling her, you great oaf, once you'd finally forgiven her from stealing James from you that is...and later on, that same day I believe, it was me you were rolling around with on that very same bed, you Casanova you!" Sirius croaked a laugh and pressed more kisses to Remus' wonderful collarbone, a collarbone that had flooded his dreams night after night.

"Now that, I can remember...that was long before..." and there is a gap between them that no words can ever hope to accommodate, "Still, we've had a good run so far though, haven't we? Considering..."

There was a sad sort of pause in which Remus squeezed Sirius' hand more tightly, desperation in every caress, as though he could imprint himself on Sirius forever. This was the new beginning.

"I love you."

"You've never said that before..."

"It's true. I do."

"I know...I love you too."

---

Remus removed a soft white handkerchief from the pocket of his battered robes. He folded the sock up gently, taking extra care not to disturb any of the dust, for the fear that if any fell to the floor his memories would fall with him. Then he wrapped it up in the worn cotton square and very carefully stowed it away in his pocket, where he would keep it close by his side for the rest of his life, the second secret that he had always kept. Worse than being a werewolf this, worse than seeing your friends die around you this...this. To find your soul mate, to love him and have him love you unconditionally in return and to never speak of it to a living soul.

To find your soul mate and lose him twice.

Time is nothing now. Time is just the measure of the spaces, the places, the gaps that exist in the air, in your breath, until you can return to the one you love. Time is with me now, he thinks.

And forever, he hoped that he would feel, that some part of Sirius would be clinging to him still as he left the room, closed the door and walked out into the bright, blue day.

"I carry you with me all the time. Every little bit of you. Every word, every sentence, every laugh, every smile...everything. "