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3. Sirius

Sirius is hot but shivering. He's back in James and Lily's house, their bodies on the floor as usual, but this time joined by others, by Dumbledore, Peter and Remus. Harry's climbed out of his cot and crawled away somewhere. He needs to find Harry and then everything will be okay. Harry's the key. He tears his gaze away from his friends' bodies and rushes out the house. He still cannot see Harry but he knows he's only round the corner, the next corner, the next. His journey's a maze, and soon he's lost. He lost, but chances one more corner and feels the familiar cold overtake him, but still he's sweating. The street gets narrower and the long cloaked figures float around him, ahead, above and behind. They stroke his face and he's repulsed. He reaches for his wand but it's not there and he realises it has been stolen. Without protection the dementors come closer. They clutch at his face, and he finds he has no arms to fend them off, for he is on the floor and cannot move. They suck at his face, and his body becomes heavier and heavier and more distant, more useless.

He wakes with a shout, and struggles for breath. The dementors: they're gone. He knows now that it was all in his imagination, but the thrill of relief doesn't help his breathing ease. He feels a hand on his back and he jumps.

"It's me. Remus. You're okay."

Sirius turns onto his other side to face him. He tries to swallow to rid the fear but he's still struggling for breath and he chokes. He sees Remus reach for his wand and mutter an incantation. His breathing suddenly eases.

"Bad dream?"

Sirius nods, desperately trying to prevent his body from violently shaking.

Remus lays a gentle hand on his cheek. "You're safe now."

"I..." He wants to thanks Remus simply for his presence as well as the spell that allowed him to catch his breath, but the words stick in his mouth. "Go back to sleep."

"I don't mind."

"It was a dream. A stupid fucking dream. No point staying up worrying about it."

"I wasn't intending to analyse the finer points if that's what you're concerned about."

Sirius hesitates while he considers. "It's fine." He rolls back over so he doesn't have to face Remus while he lies. "I'm fine."

"Well if you're sure."

Sirius pulls the duvet over his head and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. After a minute he feels the mattress readjust as Remus settles down, but he can tell by the pace and noise of Remus' breathing that he's not alone in lying awake.


Sirius trudges downstairs to the smell of bacon, and finds Remus busying himself in the kitchen. "Morning," he says, cautiously, hoping his panic from the previous night isn't brought up.

Remus turns. "Ah," he smiles. "Sit down."

Sirius does as he's told, and selects the battered old sofa. There's a few springs sticking out, but it's comfy, comfier than he's been used to. He's still too hot, used to the cold confines of prison, and the seat sticks to his bare back. He watches as Remus fills the sink with an easy swish of his wand and heads towards the sofa.

"Eat," he says, thrusting a plate on his lap and a mug in his hand.

"Er, thanks."

"No problem. You need fattening up."

Sirius takes a large bite out of the bacon sandwich. "Thought you liked your men skinny." He looks up in time to see Remus blush. Too soon, he scolds himself. Too soon.

"Well, enjoy it," Remus says, pointing at the food. He turns to walk away.

"Dumbledore's coming today," Sirius mumbles through a mouthful of bread, hoping to delay Remus' exit.

Remus hastily turns back. "He's what?"

"Said he had a few things to talk to us about."

"Do you know what?"

"Do you?"

"No," Remus admits. "I thought I knew everything he'd figured out."

"Maybe you do!" It comes out harsher than Sirius intended; he feels guilty then wonders why. It wasn't his fault he was shut up in Azkaban for a year, locked away from hearing about the major changes in the world. But then, it wasn't Remus' fault either. "Or maybe he's found something new," he continues. "You are talking about Voldemort aren't you? Dumbledore must know something about why he's gone?"

"Sort of." Remus sighs, and takes a seat. "Dumbledore says he's got a theory, and... well he's not sharing it yet, but the bit I do get is that he doesn't think he's gone for good."

"Last night you said..."

"I know. And I wasn't lying. It's not like how it was. He's not here anymore, the Death Eaters are all in jail or reformed, and..."

"Reformed!"

"I know what you're thinking, and for what it's worth I agree. But Dumbledore says we have to try and trust those that have returned to our side, says people make grave mistakes, but we would be no better than them if we weren't able to forgive them."

"Forgive them?" Sirius scoffs. "After all the people they killed, tortured..."

"Let me talk." He pauses. "Dumbledore thinks Voldemort's still about somewhere in some form of existence. He believes he'll come back one day. And when that day arrives we'll need all the people we can on our side, reformed Death Eaters or otherwise."

"I don't agree."

"Tell Dumbledore, not me." Remus stands up again. "Seeing as we're expecting a visitor I'm going to go and sort myself out. Your food has gone cold."

In defiance Sirius shoves the sandwich in his mouth, and rips out a large bite, struggling to chew it.

"You haven't lost those doggy instincts then, Padfoot," Remus says softly as he walks away.

Sirius watches him leave, able to chew slower now. He has so many things he still wants to ask Remus; how he's coping after the deaths, how he's managing the full moons, why he appears to be Dumbledore's confidant? And then the more selfish questions; why he was allowed a trial after all that time, was Remus involved with that, did Remus believe he was innocent, truly innocent all along? A year ago he would have asked those questions without hesitation.

His legs are frozen for a while, but then he puts his empty plate on the sofa and traces the route Remus walked upstairs. In the bedroom Remus is wrapped in a towel, hair wet, his pale and scarred chest exposed. Sirius keeps his head down as he enters, pretending his eyes aren't taking in each scar and desperately searching for signs of new ones. As expected, his subtle exploration reveals many deep red lines welded into the body. He knows that when left to his own devices the werewolf tears Remus to bits in anger at the lack of human prey. When Padfoot's there it's easier to stop him.

"I should have been there," he blurts out.

"Pardon?"

"For the full moons. Your stomach..."

"My stomach is fine," Remus says calmly. "It wasn't your fault, Sirius."

"If I hadn't gone after Peter..."

"Then you wouldn't have been you."

"Well, I should learn to think first."

Remus chuckles. "And how many years have I been telling you that?"

They dress with their backs to each other, quick and silent, both donning the peculiar amalgamation of muggle and wizard clothes that the marauders devised many years ago.

"You good with grooming spells?"

"You want to be groomed?" Remus asks with one eyebrow raised.

"I... maybe need a haircut."

"And a shave?" he suggests. "Come here."

Sirius goes to sit on the edge of the bed. "Don't mess it up mind. Not too short, or even. Don't give me one of those bowl cuts you like."

"I don't like bowl cuts."

"Fine, whatever. I'll trust you." Sirius winces as he feels a lock of hair fall to the ground. "Thanks by the way."

"It's alright. I was hoping you'd sort your peculiar new hairstyle out sooner rather than later."

"Not for that. Well, that too." He fidgets slightly. "I meant for last night. I... I felt better knowing you were there."