June, 1994

Even after thirteen years, Remus Lupin still had this astounding ability to make Sirius' stomach drop through the floor when he walked into a room.

He was older now – to be expected after so long, he supposed – but in some ways he looked older than Sirius did, and Sirius was aware that Azkaban had made him look fifty at least. Remus' face, still boyish when they had last seen each other, was now heavily lined, particularly around the eyes. His hair had many greys, already at age 34. But even if he didn't have the cat clutching at his chest for him, Sirius imagined the sensation would be present regardless.

Remus' eyes finally flickered to where Sirius was lying on the floor. He clenched his wand tighter, then looked away quickly, apparently disgusted. Sirius' stomach dropped away, along with the last of his hope. He should have expected this sort of reunion. In fact, it was a wonder Remus hadn't already killed him. In his position, Sirius decided, the deed would have long since been done. Or maybe Remus wanted Harry to do it after all; wouldn't that be true justice?

"Expelliarmus!" Remus shouted suddenly, and Harry and the girl lost the wands they were holding. Then, slowly and deliberately, Remus walked toward Sirius and forced himself to regard him with a steady gaze.

And with a quiver in his chin and a waver in his voice, Remus asked, "Where is he, Sirius?"

Disbelieving, Sirius studied Remus' face. Remus' blue eyes were not filled with the disgust with Sirius he had initially seen; instead, the disgust was self-directed, mixed with guilt and grief. Sirius continued to stare into his eyes, trying desperately to determine if Remus had figured it out, if he meant what Sirius thought he meant. So Sirius raised a hand and pointed at the red-haired boy who was surely related to the Weasleys, refusing to break Remus' gaze.

Remus, too, seemed reluctant to break eye contact. "But then…" he began, and used that logical brain that Sirius had once loved so desperately to figure out that Sirius had switched, that he hadn't betrayed Lily and James, not intentionally at least. "Unless you switched… without telling me?" Remus finished.

Sirius heard a note of desperation in his voice, and saw another in his eyes. Wanting Remus to believe him even more than Remus did, Sirius nodded unblinkingly, swallowing thickly. Come on, Remus, he pled with him silently. You know me. You know I would have never, ever betrayed James…

As Remus lowered his wand and helped Sirius to his feet, he momentarily forgot entirely his fury and his desire for vengeance against Peter. Love flooded his veins for the first time since Azkaban as he embraced Remus. No matter that Sirius looked like he'd spent thirteen years in complete destitution (and, to be frank, he had), Remus was not disgusted. This gesture meant a great deal more than anything else had for the last dozen years.

Sirius was vaguely aware of Harry shouting, and Remus turned away from the embrace, rather against Sirius' preference. With the loss of Remus' contact, his fury returned; his arm dropped away from Remus' shoulder, and he returned to sulking while Remus tried to quell the outraged teenagers.

As the night carried on, Remus shrugged off Sirius' angry outbursts as though they were perfectly characteristic when they most certainly were not, because Remus understood. Remus always understood. He kept Sirius in check when his passions got the best of him; he became forceful when Sirius was distressed. He was polite where Sirius was savage. Just as it was so many years ago, they complimented each other perfectly. Even as they scrapped later, as dog and wolf, Sirius could not help but enjoy himself to some extent as he kept Remus in check, just as Remus had done for him with Pettigrew hours ago.

Just like the good old days.

In the days that followed, Sirius in hiding with Buckbeak, he tried to start a letter expressing everything he hadn't said upon their reunion. He didn't know how to catch up after so many years, after so much time and space between them. Finally, he realized with a smile, he was going about this all wrong. He leaned over the parchment and wrote a single line:

It was good to see you again, Moony.

And Remus' reply told Sirius that he understood entirely, as he always did:

It was good to see you too, Padfoot.