IWLTxo, I hope you like this xx

The task of removing the forlorn, slightly musty and oddly incense-y spectre from his flat was a home-for-the-holidays routine that always reminded Sirius of his Uncle Alphard; the flat's previous owner. Because it had been shut up for months following Alphard's death, while the other non-disowned Black's fought over his estate, the job of opening windows and chasing away spiders always took Sirius back to the first time he'd had to do it. It had been a year ago that the property had finally been cleared to pass into Sirius's possession.

But this, the third time Sirius had arrived home, after being at Hogwarts for a term seemed more empty than the others. Not only was he reminded of his dead uncle, who had been the last remaining Black on speaking terms with the disinherited Sirius, but now the stuffy rooms and cobwebbed ceilings made him think of how very alone he was.

Sirius forced the final window open, the sliding wooden framed sash in his bedroom. From here he had the enviable second floor view of a car park for the surrounding buildings and three rarely emptied skips.

Sirius's flat was in Camden Town, bought in a rebellious fit of pique by Alphard in 1960. The point of the purchase was to live somewhere as flagrantly Muggle as possible, and therefore achieve the biggest metaphorical middle-finger he could to his oppressive, bigoted and inbred parents.

A sentiment Sirius both admired and aspired to.

There was no way Alphard could have foreseen how very anti-establishment (and therefore anti-Black) the area would become in the nearly twenty years that had passed though. Now as the Nineteen-seventies were drawing to a close it was common place to see the footpaths filled with social outcasts of even Muggle society; heavily eyeliner'd girls – and boys – held together with safety pins and hairspray, their jeans tight and ripped and their outward expressions angry; the look that accompanied the latest sound in rock and roll.

No longer did Sirius hear melodic guitars and catchy songs about lost love as he passed the record store when he walked to the corner shop for milk and fags, but instead, it was violently crashing drums and three chords on repeat, both seemingly warring with the front man's barely discernable lyrics.

Sirius thought it was fucking brilliant.

But even the thought of his latest acquisition, the brand new, and recorded in London, It's Alive – the closest thing he'd ever get to hearing the Ramones in concert – blasting from his gramophone wasn't enough to put a smile on Sirius's face this early summer evening. He flopped on his bed, and then twisted about trying to wiggle his half smoked deck of fags from his back pocket.

At this moment James would be settling Lily into her room at Potter House, separate from James's of course, because Mrs Potter simply wouldn't stand for pre-marital shenanigans. Lily was only there because her own parents were holidaying in Majorca for the summer, a holiday suggested by Lily and partially funded by the Potter's to get the Evans's away from the dangerously changing wizarding world. It was frightening, but they were safe and Lily had the extremely devoted James to protect her. Though Sirius thought she would probably poke him in the eye if she heard him say she needed protecting.

Sirius lit his cigarette still lying flat on his back. He blew the resulting stream of smoke up towards the ceiling were it caught on the remaining cobwebs, making them sway in the bluish nicotine breeze.

Peter, Sirius thought, would be sitting at the table in his widowed mother's farmhouse kitchen. There would be an old tin teapot filled with hot chocolate and a tray of biscuits in front of him. Pete would be happily stuffing his face and trying to meet his Mum's demands for tales of school – without getting himself into trouble by telling the truth.

Sirius took another drag on his smoke, balancing it carefully as not to let the ash topple on to his face, he frowned over at his nightstand, where his ashtray – a randomly ornate cut-crystal one that had been Alphard's – was sitting just out of reach. He summoned it with his wand and tapped his cigarette, wishing that he had someone to bring him hot chocolate by the teapot-full and make him biscuits. Thinking of things he wished he had, and hot chocolate, led him to thoughts of Remus, who valued hot chocolate for its medicinal purposes.

Remus would be packing. Sirius amused himself for a moment with the mental image of Remus in his childhood bedroom, with all his bits and bobs – Sirius had no idea what one packed when off to live with wolves – laid out in little piles all over his coverlet, probably ticking them off a list as he put them in his bag.

Sirius didn't know if Mr and Mrs Lupin were aware of the dangerous assignment Remus had taken on, he doubted it though. Remus much preferred to keep everyone as worry free as possible, which normally meant keeping things to himself whenever he could. This reminded Sirius of the thing they had both been keeping to themselves.

The thing that he had finally had the guts to say.

Even though now it filled Sirius with a kind of bitter regret to know that if he'd just bloody said something at Christmas, then he and Remus could have had more than one and a half kisses – in the sodding loo – before he, Remus, was mauled by the pack or he, Sirius, was blown to shreds, as was the most common cause of resignation from the Order of the Phoenix these days.

Because, for all the bravado Sirius was well aware that he, James or Pete might not make it til next weekend. Remus at least would get to the coming full moon. It struck Sirius suddenly that he would have no way of knowing whether Remus had made it through the moon. Whether having to face a transformation without his usual company of rat, stag and dog would make it even more harrowing. Would having other wolves around serve the same purpose? Probably not… the Animagus friends kept him calmer, playful, the wolves… they would see strong, intelligent Remus as a massive threat to the status quo.

There was suddenly a loud rhythmic knock on the front door that jolted Sirius out of his semi-self-pitying torpor, then a voice Sirius recognised immediately called, "Padfoot?"

For some reason James was visiting.

Sirius hauled himself to his feet feeling completely confused as to why James was here in London when he was supposed to at home playing happy families with Lily.

Perhaps it wasn't James at all, but a trick, Sirius's lonesome brain suggested. Half of Sirius's family were Death Eaters, and he was the Bloodtraitor that shamed them, maybe they were taking advantage of his vulnerability now that he was away from Hogwarts...

"Prongs?" Sirius asked cautiously, once he had reached the front door, he loosened his wand from his sleeve as he spoke.

"Yeah mate," James said, but then if he was a polyjuiced-rellie looking for Black family revenge, he would say "yeah mate".

Sirius opened the door with his left hand, wand ready in his right, it wasn't like he was afraid, just careful.

He felt a little foolish for his vigilance when James's eyes bugged behind his glasses at the sight of Sirius with his wand on him, and instead of backing away, James frowned thoughtfully and said, "You right there Pads?" in a tone that plainly suggested concern for Sirius's sanity.

"Yeah sorry, bit restless." Sirius mumbled, stepping back to let him inside, and stowing his wand since it was obviously James.

"That's why I'm here," said James, "you were bloody weird all the way back to Kings Cross – even Pete noticed." James said incredulously, as he led the way into the sitting room and made himself at home on the sofa, "Moony said you're just a bit edgy with all the changes and stuff but if you ask me he was just as bad."

"I'm not edgy," Sirius said, feeling unduly annoyed that Remus and James were talking about him.

Sirius pulled out a new fag, lit it and flopped onto the other end of the sofa. He sat forward to grab the end of his trunk, which was sitting open in the middle of the room, and hauled it closer to use as a foot rest.

Sirius had only gotten as far as un-packing his record player and vinyl collection this afternoon, they were already in his bedroom, the records un-shrunk and the player re-charmed. He puffed his smoke for a moment while he tried to think of an explanation for his out of character grouch to give James. "Don't you feel a bit weird knowing that school is over forever?" he said eventually, adding vaguely, "You know I'm terrible without structure…"

"Please," James laughed, "you're worried about your lack of productivity?" He reached out and pinched Sirius cigarette, took a drag and passed it back, "try again." he said as he blew out the smoke.

"Fine," Sirius said, "lack of productivity and Moony." he meant Remus's impending co-habitation, and not – entirely – the niggling poke in his chest every time he thought of the toilets on the Hogwarts Express.

James hummed in agreement, "Fair enough," he said, "I've sort of been trying not to think about it."

Easy for him Sirius thought, with Lily and family to distract James from all the nagging worries. Smoking and spider extermination were not nearly mentally taxing enough to keep Sirius occupied. "Same," Sirius said anyway, because he didn't want to raise James's suspicions. "How's Lily?" he asked, to change the subject.

"Worried, you know, bout her mum and dad," James said, putting his feet up on the trunk and sitting back, "but Majorca is safe, that's all that matters. I think her dad was more concerned that his little girl was moving in with me to be honest."

A real smile found its way onto Sirius's face, "That's only cause he hasn't met me."

James grinned, "That's true, like how Mrs Lupin didn't trust me at all until you came to stay that summer."

Sirius laughed to himself as he remembered. The summer of their fourth year he'd convinced his parents that the Potters were a perfectly respectable – pure – family, despite their differing opinions from the Noble and Most Bigoted House of Black. He'd also suggested that making alliances on all sides of the political spectrum was very advantageous.

Orion, Sirius's father, apparently approved of the Slytherin spirit showing through in his rebellious Gryffindor of an heir, because he had allowed Sirius to go and stay for a few weeks at Potter House. The pair of boys had gone to visit the Lupin's home for a couple of nights during Sirius's time with the Potter's.

James had been to visit Remus the previous summer and not made the best impression, being rather more energetic, accident prone and ready to question parental wisdom than Mr and Mrs Lupin were used to. But they were yet to meet the tornado of tomfoolery that was Sirius Black.

Sirius, in insanely high mischief-making spirits due to his first ever holiday with his friends had – by accident – burnt down the upstairs bathroom while demonstrating the newest development in pyrotechnics from Dr Filibuster – wet-start fireworks. Mr Lupin had been able to put it to rights as soon as he got home from work, but the three boys had spent an afternoon cleaning and schlepping like Muggles under the critical eye of Mrs Lupin as punishment, and James was suddenly the lesser of two very evils

"It's a bit serious when you say moving in." Sirius said, frowning a little at James's phrasing, "isn't Lily just staying for a while?"

James shrugged, stealing Sirius's cigarette again, "Dunno," he looked a little pink as he inhaled and then flicked the ash, not meeting Sirius's eyes. "We'll see. But she and Mum are playing some mad card game and drinking sherry, and Dad's away getting the Evans's set up," he paused and smiled broadly, and somewhat maniacally, "So I decided to come down to London and escort you and your grump to the pub."

Sirius felt suddenly stupidly fond of his best friend. Not to mention dramatic for moping about his flat thinking that he was all alone, when of course James had noticed that he was down on the train, and of course he'd be here to cheer Sirius up when he needed him. It didn't matter that Sirius couldn't tell him the whole reason, the part that they shared – worry and fear of the future – was quite enough.

Ten minutes later Sirius had grabbed a handful of clothes from his trunk and was in his room shucking his Hobgoblins t-shirt for a plain one, as to blend in with the crowd at the pub down the street. Although, the Muggles would probably just think The Hobgoblins were just some super-obscure punk band they weren't underground enough to have heard of. He traded his comfy jeans for a pair that Remus had called "ludicrously pointless" because they were so tight Sirius had trouble bending to lace his boots when he first put them on, and they'd had torn and tatty knees when Sirius had bought them. But they looked just like the ones he'd seen JJ Burnel wearing the previous summer, when he and James had gone to see the Stranglers at the Roundhouse. So Sirius thought them worth the hassle.

The pub, which was only five minutes' walk away, took up the bottom corner of an old row of terraced houses, most of which were now converted into businesses. It was a little dingy and very smoky, but the interior was an improvement on the litter-strewn footpath. "Litter" being the most all-encompassing term to describe the four puddles of vomit, several smashed bottles and, disturbingly, one hypodermic needle Sirius had seen floating in the gutter, on their brief walk from his flat to the pub.

Sirius loved the little corner pub, it was filled, as usual, with a seemingly random collection of patrons. There were over-weight middle aged men in rolled up shirt-sleeves hunched on stools at the bar, girls with tall hair and multiple silver rings in their ears hovering by the jukebox, leather-vested shaved haired blokes snarling at each other over the billiards tables and a good deal of run-of-the-mill rowdy Friday-nighters, their business shirts untucked and ties loosened, clinking their pints and laughing uproariously.

James and Sirius pushed their way through the crowd to the bar and collected two pints each – since happy hour was finishing in ten minutes – and found themselves a leaner near the billiards tables. When Sirius had first moved in to Alphard's, he and James had spent many evenings in this place, it was after all, quite easy to forge an I.D. when you had a wand. It was also easy to fleece the skinheads at pool when you could use a locomotion charm to direct the balls, which they did happily for a time. Unfortunately, because of their renowned skill, no one in the bar would play against them anymore, so Sirius and James were forced to drink for entertainment instead.

Sirius climbed the stairs to his flat several hours, and pints, later. He was not stumbling drunk, but the stairs did seem to require his constant attention for him to be able to ascend. James had left him around the corner at the alley they used for discreet apparition. Sirius hoped that Lily and Mrs Potter were still in good spirits when James arrived, because James had certainly been a merry mood.

Sirius was still watching his feet on the staircase when he reached the top stair and was surprised to hear a quiet, and slightly hoarse voice from across the dim landing.

"Hello Padfoot."

Sirius wobbled unsteadily for a moment as the sudden greeting took his focus from the steps to the figure sitting on the floor next to Sirius's front door. It was Remus, a dog-eared book in his hands and a tiny hovering ball of light floating next to him to illuminate his pages.

"Moony?" Sirius said, his beer-slowed brain unable to find a reason for Remus to be here when Sirius had spent the whole evening trying not to wallow in the fact that he was never going to see Remus again, because was going to be eaten by a hulking alpha-wolf in exactly thirteen days' time, "What are you doing here?"

Remus got to his feet, tucking his book into his bag, his shoulders twitched in answer to Sirius's question and he said haltingly, "I'm not really sure, I just couldn't sit at home anymore," he gave Sirius a confusing little smile and shrugged again, "I thought you might want to hang out, or something."

Or something echoed around in Sirius's head. "I've been at the pub with James," he said, trying to collect himself, because the drink was suggesting very many or something's in his ear, "apparently I looked very depressed on the train, and he took it upon himself to cheer me up."

"Yeah," Remus said, "he told me he'd come check on you this evening, I should have known 'check on' meant 'get pissed with.'" Remus grinned to take the sting out of his words, "I finished getting ready early, turns out you don't need much stuff when you're going undercover as a homeless person," he shrugged for a third time, "so I thought I'd stop by, stop myself going insane, say good-bye…" the or something didn't need to be said aloud again.

"Cup of tea then?" Sirius asked, not sure why he wasn't just jumping on Remus in the hallway, like his romantic track record would suggest as his usual reaction to such a situation. But it just didn't seem right.

The answering smile on Remus's face made him realise he'd said the right thing, but then, it was Remus, good manners, especially from Sirius always made him smile.

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