The borders in our minds
AN: I suppose this may be seen as AU. It is set in a time where Sirius' name has been cleared, but there is no precise indication to what year exactly, nor is it exactly necessary. Some might think the world is still at war, but that is not relevant either. The only thing of real relevance is that the Ministry has taken 'measures' against Werewolves, but they took those measures a while before Harry was born.
A reserve was build for werewolves, when Sirius and Remus were in their twenties, with a set of rules to go along. Some of these rules are that grown werewolves are not allowed to live by themselves, and need one roommate that is none-werewolf. Single parents cannot raise werewolves younger than 17, and when werewolves have children, they are sent to the reserve regardless of the fact that there are two or more adults to take care of them. That's basically the only relevant info you need. Ah, mates are marked with a bite, but this marking is not performed when in werewolf form, so the mates are not turned. It is always to scar, otherwise it does not count as marking.
WARNING: hinting of sex.
It was early in the afternoon when they followed the curved road into the reserve. The sun had taken its position up in the sky where it burned bright, but not with the same hot bravura it held at midday. There had been a single auror guarding the entrance, fences of iron and unrelenting steel reaching out to encase a glossy horizon.
Hermione had been appalled when met with rigged bars and Sirius had attempted to soothe her, saying the bars were only there to keep the monsters out.
In reality, they kept the monsters in, and they all knew it.
Transportation of choice would have been the Black Bitch; he had never even though about bringing the younglings. And with good reason too.
Though he loved them profoundly, there were just some things they wouldn't, couldn't, understand. Not all people were as fortunate as they were and not all beasts were kind at heart like Remus and it's not easy to sort good from bad, not like Harry made it seem, because the world is not made out of blacks and whites, it's made out of greys.
He remembered very well, the coming of those bars, with the impressive set of laws that came with it. Together with Remus he had watched those fences take form, dozens of people, every day, willingly or unwillingly, disappear behind them. He brought Remus there, every other day, just to remind him of how close he too, had been to such a fate. He wanted to show Remus that if he served no other purpose, at least he served this. Sirius was the one thing between Remus and those fences, and though they had been together long before those bars materialized, Remus knew how damn lucky he had been. Every day Remus would flatter his body against Sirius' and whisper 'I love you's into his chest, and every night he would demand Sirius take him, to retrieve a sense of belonging, to remind him there was only freedom where they lived, and that Sirius would keep him safe.
Two days before and one day after the full moon, working men and women would be locked in to ensure maximum security and then medics were sent before husbands and wives were allowed to return to their day jobs, making a living for their families.
Remus drank wolfsbane potion and frolicked with Padfoot and when morning came Sirius tended to every single scratch and they moved on.
But that was then and things had changed.
Sirius wondered if Remus still took the wolfsbane, but only briefly, because then he realised it made no real difference because the reserve was for all and not all were made like Remus was
Some preferred the wolf over the human, and in that case, all bets were off.
He drove the ford Anglia through the web of streets and houses. Tall trees threw shadows over them while they passed talking neighbours and playing children.
Everything seemed so normal.
They passed houses with tightly shut blinds, a pool, a few gyms and several small shops. If Sirius had not seen the fences with his own eyes, if he had not fought those sick laws, he would not have been able to tell that they had entered a reserve.
No one said a thing, because it was all just so absurd. They drove past a pub with a group of men fighting and Sirius ostentatiously looked the other way.
It was weird and unpleasant, and he wanted to run, hide, from all the things he had put Remus through. Every single inch of road they passed had him spilling his insides, all the guilt and sorrow and hurt, over the car seats and down the damp windows and it was horrible, but he knew it was just.
He saw Remus before he saw the house. To be exact, it was that moment where the wind caught an auburn lock and the light turned it that shade of yellowgoldenbrown and slender fingers reached up to brush it, delicately from his face, and it was that moment, that second, that caught his eye.
And then, after his air had been cut off and his heart had stopped, the rest fell into place.
He was taking down the laundry, which had been hanging out to dry. The house and front yard looked like every other house and front yard in the street, simple one-floor buildings, and some trees to aid the level of green in the area.
A basket was posed against his hip, the thin fabric of his shirt hugging his hips just right, the scars on his shoulders and arms pale in the sun. His jeans rested too low around his waist, as they were too big, like they had been when they were still in high school.
From the first time he had seen Remus, it had been one of those things he had noticed about the boy. No matter how tidy he dressed, even with his shirt tucked in and his tie done properly, his jeans, low, with his hips protruding beautifully, altered his look more than any buttoned cuffs every could. He was always, until perpetuity, breath-taking.
He was bare-foot and talking to a half-naked man.
And Sirius realised, that it could not be a good thing.
The other was toned, with dark skin and dark curls. He had a white short on and was in the middle of a jog, pearling sweat lining his brow.
The teens got out the car as soon as it came to a halt, excited to meet their former professor again. He was more hesitant than anything else, his gut churning unpleasantly when the dark man set a callused hand on Remus' shoulder.
A chuckle ran through the hot air, and the two men said their goodbyes. As Remus waved and the man winked while he returned to his afternoon run, he noticed the ford Anglia and his face lit up. With one of those ridiculously handsome smiles, he waved them over, quickly taking down the last of the laundry.
"What a surprise!" he hugged the three teens with one arm, uprightly happy to see them, "I hadn't expected all of you! Please, come in, I'm boiling water for tea."
He welcomed them into his home, motioning towards his front door. When he switched the basket from one hip to the other, Sirius felt his breathing catch in his throat, watching the fluid movement and the roll of waist. Then, Remus kissed him on the cheek in greeting, his smile broad and alluring like always.
They drank tea with all the windows thrown wide-open, seated in one of the comfortable seats. Most of Remus' items had already been packed, but he still had some cups out. Sirius had told him to leave his furniture, since Grimmauld place had plenty. Remus had blushed and pecked his forehead, but after that they hadn't seen each other in a while and they hadn't been able to talk properly.
After their tea, they helped with getting the boxes in the car, the teens enthusiastic to have the brunette go back home with them.
He too, was enthusiastic, albeit for different reasons.
The sun waned and the air cooled down some as the day grew tired and evening neared. It seemed that the darkness brought the dirtier side of the town about, because when Remus informed them he still had to pick up a set of clothes from the jogger's home, he was hard-pressed on convincing the teens to wait for them in the house.
Naturally, they refused, so they ended up taking the ten-minute-walk together. Passing many suspicious figures, he understood Remus' reluctance, but was also, once more, reminded of the fact that not all people were like Remus.
Some were wrong.
The jogger turned out to be a rather unfortunate man, and though his flirting was painfully obvious, Remus made no advances, instead being polite. No interest coloured his face, and when he saw Remus looking at him from the corner of his eye, he felt proud that after all this years, Remus still valued him.
Not the man, but his two sons had been bitten, and since the law prohibited single parents to raise werewolves younger than seventeen, they had been forced to move to the reserve. He didn't sound like he ever planned on leaving – since laws also said that a grown werewolf needed at least one roommate – unless his sons moved out. Either way, that would be long, his boys only four years of age.
He didn't ask the finer details of their lycanthropy or his failed relationship, but only because he didn't really care.
Walking back in the dark night caused an unsettling feeling. Rough men whistled and howled when Remus passed, but he appeared to be used to this treatment.
"Full moon's close," he explained with a shrug to the shocked teens, "Most of them don't have a mate."
"What about your... mate?" Harry asked curiously at that, choosing his words with hesitance.
His ears perked at the teen's comment. He remembered when Remus first marked him as his mate, the scar on his sternum still there, a permanent reminder of who he belonged to. The blush that rose to the scarred cheeks, visible in the harsh light of streetlamps, told him Remus too, was remembering.
The resulting comfortable silence lasted all the way through the return to the house. Remus locked it, pocketed the key and without a second glance, seated himself in the front passenger seat, next to Sirius.
They stayed silent until they neared the fences, where he needed to drop off the keys. While Remus handled his part of the paperwork, he had to sign some as well, vouching that Remus came to live with him and that he would take care of the man.
When they had come to collect Remus, when those fences had just been built, he had signed those exact same papers.
They had gotten annulled when Sirius was sent to Azkaban.
Signing them again gave him a sort of double feeling. On one hand, it made him feel guilty for all those years that he had forced Remus to live there. Guilty for leaving him, breaking his promise, I'll be there 'til the end.
On the other hand, he felt safe, knowing that Remus still trusted him with this. That he still wanted this honour to be his. It made him feel warm on the inside.
The drive back to Grimmauld place would take at least another hour, and it wasn't long before Harry, Ron and Hermione fell asleep on the backseats, using each other as pillows in the process. He saw Remus yawn from the corner of his eye, and smiled delicately.
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he outstretched his other arm, throwing a questioning look towards the gorgeous brunette. Remus needed no further encouragement, and immediately leaned into the other's inviting body. His head rested perfectly on a nice broad shoulder, and then Sirius, in turn, rested his head atop Remus'. His fingers drew figures against Remus' bare arm, feeling the skin raise up into chickenflesh.
From then on, the entire car ride was pure heaven. Having that comfortable weight pressed into his side and Remus' breath fanning against his neck and cheek, it had been too long since he had been able to keep Remus close like that. He was enjoying the intimacy of the embrace so immensely that he was saddened when they arrived at the house.
Harry jolted from his sleep as soon as the car came to a halt, and the three of them got out groggily. He followed, helping Remus out as well. They decided they would get his boxes out the next day, as they were all rather tired.
All other Weasleys had gone to bed already, and they went up to sleep as well. He received kisses from the teens and watched them leave.
"Sirius..." they both hesitated when they arrived at his bedroom.
He knew he was supposed to be showing him to a guest room, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He couldn't blatantly point him in the direction of another bed, when he wanted him in his own.
He sighed, knowing it was not his choice to make.
"Remus, you don't have to," he stared at his feet, not able to look Remus in the eyes in fear of rejection.
"I want to," he felt a soft pressure against the palm of his hand, and then Remus' slender fingers were twining with his own, "but only if you want me to."
He smiled at that, remembering what Remus had said to him, the night he had marked him: 'I want you to be mine, but only if you want me to want you to be mine.'
Further confirmation was not needed, and he led him into his bedroom, their fingers curled together.
Slowly, they undressed, stripping each other, piece by piece, until they were bare and broken in front of each other. At every item that was removed, his hands went a-sliding, fingers exploring sensitive areas he had been denied for all those years.
Their lips met, unhurriedly, and the taste was so familiar, something sweet and like citrus, he had missed that, more than he would ever even know himself.
The bed was soft and smooth against his back. His lips tasted the beautiful flesh before him, and he could feel the small scars against his tongue, like valleys in the landscape.
He felt Remus thumb the mark he had left so many years before, his tongue followed swiftly, lips pressing into his flesh. A shiver racked his frame, sparks shooting up his spine.
Their eyes met, and he felt as if he would drown, the golden in the brown lit up his soul and set his heart alight.
He was nervous when Remus pressed into him, his thighs shivering, but he showed no fear. Each barrier, each wall built up in his head, all the fences he had made to protect himself from the cold, every single little brick came crumbling down with mass-impact, not just his body, but also his heart, breached. He kept his legs up around Remus' waist, gasping and ripping at the sheets with his knuckles.
His back arched when Remus had sheathed himself completely, head thrown back on the pillow. His hair was sweaty against his temples, and Remus brushed it off compassionately. Kissing his lips, Remus murmured: "Siri... how does it feel?"
He hesitated, but only briefly.
"Like home," it was but a huffed whisper, but Remus still smiled.
"Is that so?" Remus' hands caressed his hips and thighs, their foreheads touching, "it's nice having you back home."
AN: because that's just how it goes, really. God, I cannot even begin to explain how this came to me... I was in the car with my brother, travelling to Milan, and well, this planted itself nice and smooth in my pretty little brain. Tss.
NOTE: the Black Bitch is the name I gave to Sirius' flying motorcycle.