A/N: Sorry for taking ages with updates. The story's done, I just keep forgetting to stick the next part up. There was also an incident last week involving my mother, my laptop and a bottle of windowlene.

There was breakage. Circuits were shorted. Repairs were made.

And sorry for not replying to feedback, I has had teh busies, but it is greatly appreciated :).

"I hate this pub." Huffed Sirius, his chair creaked and the table was damaged and wobbly. James frowned at him.

"Well I'm skint, you're skint and Wormtail's skint." Snapped James. "We drink here, or we don't drink."

"Oh fine." Sirius sighed, and relaxed a bit, though the Hog's Head was so dark you'd think it was the middle of the night, the décor was positively foul and it was badly in need of a good once over with a few cleaning charms, the staff in here would be far more likely to serve them with Peter in tow.

"Now cheer up. You've been sulking since Christmas and I'm sick of it." Said James. "Wormtail, go and get us a few Firewhiskys. I'm off for a piss." Peter didn't have time to protest ("But you don't like Firewhisky!") before James had shoved him in the general direction of the bar.

Sirius looked around the pub. There was an oddly shaped lump under a cloak, conversing with a man with large patches of what appeared to be moss on his skin. There was a man, huge and tattooed, sat in a booth in the corner, muttering under his breath and growling when people came near him, and a young woman, flitting around the pub, collecting drinks and falling back onto the lap of a far older man, giggling.
Where there was usually a large, grumbling gentleman at the bar, stood a much taller, skinnier figure. But the bar was too dark and too smoky for Sirius to get a decent look at him.

Peter came back a moment later, with the drinks clenched awkwardly in his hands. They split as he set them on the table. The measurements were huge for Firewhisky, and Peter shrugged as he sat down.

"Down the hatch." He said nervously, as he picked up his drink. Sirius nodded. They clinked their glasses together and each took a sip. Peter gagged. Sirius choked.

"Bloody hell." Said Sirius, between coughs "Couldn't they have given you something a bit stronger?"

"That tastes like petrol." Coughed Peter, pointlessly looking around for something to take the taste from his mouth, Sirius took another tiny sip. The drink did have something of a petrol-ish kick to it, just the thought brought Sirius right back to last summer; when the pretty muggle girl, who lived next door to Peter, had dared them to drink some.

"It probably is petrol." Sirius said with a nod, gagging slightly.

"Barman told me this was the best stuff they had as well." Peter sighed. "Suppose it was really cheap." He added, "Suppose the bloke mightn't have known his Firewhisky properly, he wasn't half young." Peter glanced over his shoulder, "God he looked like shit. Didn't really want him serving us, he looks like he might have flu or something." Sirius grimaced at that.

"So it's not just petrol, it's disease infested petrol." Sirius stood, slamming his palms dramatically on the table. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Where are you going?" asked Peter, as Sirius started forward, toward the bar.

"I'm going to get our money back." Said Sirius, proudly. "There was a time when I'd let this slide, but as an official poor person-"

"You're not poor! You've got all that inheritance from your dead uncle! And anyway, how can any one be poor when they're sponging off the Potters?" Peter interrupted. Sirius merely glared at him and strode over to the bar, passing a bewildered James on the way. The barman was tall and skinny and, Sirius noticed, smiling to himself as he did, had rather a fine arse. The rather distractingly familiar shade of light brown hair he had, made Sirius pause for a moment and consider his words.

"Excuse me." He said sharply, resting his elbows on the bar. The barman paid him no heed, and carried on wiping glasses. "Oi!" said Sirius. The Barman sighed and slammed down the glass,

"What." He snapped. Sirius' eyes widened, his heart began to thud and thud against his ribcage.

"Remus!" He grinned. "I didn't know you worked here as well!" Remus' mouth dropped open momentarily. "Wow. It's... it's just... great to see you." He said. Remus didn't look well at all though. He was sweating and even paler than usual and he'd obviously lost weight. His eyes were unusually bright and glassy looking, the dark rings beneath them were almost charcoal coloured. Sirius found himself entirely unperturbed. "Are you alright?" he asked. Remus nodded and shut his eyes tightly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just. I'm not well." he replied. His voice was hoarse and strained.

"You shouldn't be working." Sirius said, he went to reach out and put a hand on Remus' arm, but Remus backed away. "You're not catching, are you?"

"I'm not. I finish here in about ten minutes and I'm not working my other job tonight." He snapped. "So if that's what you're after here, it's not going to happen, normally-" Sirius shook his head and cut Remus off.

"I don't want anything like that!" Sirius insisted, "I didn't even know you worked here! I'm just here for a drink. Well I'm here to get my money back. The whisky tasted like shit." Remus just laughed at him.

"Well what did you expect it to taste like? You only paid a sickle for it, for fuck's sake."

"Peter said you said that it was the best stuff you had!"

"I fear the sarcasm in my comment may have been ever so slightly lost on him."

"Oh." Sirius sighed. "I never knew you worked here."

"You said." Remus raised an eyebrow and came out from behind the bar. He walked past Sirius, to the front door, which he opened and poked his head around. He was illuminated by the dying sunlight and cast a long skinny shadow across the floor of the pub. A few patrons visibly flinched as the light hit them, and Remus stood, squinting, frowning at the sky. He looked at his watch and ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you want to meet my friends?" Sirius blurted. Remus cocked an eyebrow.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Dunno. I've just told them about you." Sirius shrugged, and Remus' other eyebrow lifted.

"You must be close." He said, almost suspiciously.

"I haven't told them... that I paid for it or anything." Sirius mumbled, flushing. "And I only told James that we..." he paused, and gave Remus a meaningful look. "You know." Remus just frowned.

"Fucked." He said frankly, curling his lip.

"Yeah." Sirius swallowed, and nodded. Remus sighed. He checked his watch, looked over his shoulder, at the bar, then his watch again. He heaved a sigh.

"Go on then. I've got a bit of time to kill." He rolled his eyes. Sirius grinned and clasped his wrist, noting how thin it was and how hot his skin felt.
James, frowned as Sirius arrived at their table, Remus in tow. He smiled. James continued to frown and Peter merely looked confused, nursed his whisky with a grimace.

"Alright." Sirius said, ginning. James narrowed his eyes at Remus. "James, Peter, this is Remus."

"Evening." Said Remus, sticking a hand up, in what might have been some half hearted attempt at a wave.

"Remus, that's James and Peter. James with the glasses."

"Hullo." Said Peter, eyeing all three of them nervously.

"So..." said James, swirling the awful whisky around in his glass, obviously not drunk from. "You're the famous Remus." James smiled, mischievously, more evil than mischievous really. Remus looked at Sirius, smirking.

"... Famous, you say?" said Remus, eyebrows giving a self satisfied twitch.

"Oh, aye." James, leaned forward, his elbows on the table, evil smile still etched across his face. "He mustn't have known you worked here, or he'd have been down here every night."

"James. Shut the fuck up." Sirius spat. James giggled.

"He wrote you letters!"

"Letters you say?" Remus' smirk split into grin. Something that Sirius had never seen before, and even now, the grin was not quite a happy one. It seemed forced and didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Did not!" snarled Sirius.

"Did so!" sang James. Remus shook his head and checked his watch again, looking over his shoulder at the door.

"Right..." he said. "I'm off now... so... see you Sirius." He clasped Sirius' upper arm, briefly, offering a quick, crooked smile. He raised his hand to Peter and James again. "See you..." he tailed off, "...Etc." James scowled and Peter mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like tosser, under his breath.
Remus started walking toward the door, Sirius waited till he was out of ear shot of James and Peter before following him.

"Aren't you going to wait till the next bloke comes in?" Sirius asked. Remus stopped, his body stiff and his jaw set tight. "To look after the bar? I mean."

"He'll be in soon enough." Snapped Remus. Sirius flinched and muttered an apology. Remus sighed , and carried on his way out the pub.

"I'll come and see you at the weekend!" Sirius called. "When you're here." He said, voice weaker now. "If that's alright?" Remus shrugged.

"Alright with me, love." He sighed. "See you." As Remus opened the door, the sun low and red now.

"Bye Remus!" shouted Sirius. Remus half waved and stepped outside, slamming the door behind him. Sirius flopped down back at his table, his face burning bright red.

"Bye Remus." Sang James. "You are so bent." He cackled.

"I hate you." Sirius moaned. "So much." Peter, double took, as if he wasn't quite sure what he'd just heard.

"You're bent?" he squeaked. Sirius dropped his eyes to his glass of rank whisky, the fumes stung his eyes.

"Erm." Was all he managed.

"As a tin foil sickle." Piped James. Peter shrugged.

"Can't say I'm that surprised, really."

"Hey." Sirius said, trailing a finger down Remus' bare back, across a new claw mark Remus hadn't seen yet. The healer at St. Mungo's had remarked on how nasty it looked. Remus didn't usually wait around after jobs, but the boy had paid for the room, and he was still a bit hung over from the full. And this bed was fucking comfortable.

"What." Remus mumbled into his pillow. Soft pillows as well. Nice quality fabric on the cases and they were stuffed with real feathers.

"These marks." Sirius said, running his palm up and down his back. Soothing. As if trying to make them fade away. "They're new."

"Yep." Remus muttered, again, directly into his pillow, just wanting to sleep. He was so tired. Sirius kissed his neck.

"Who did that to you?" he asked.

"I was attacked by wild dogs." He felt Sirius nuzzle at his scalp, bury his nose in his hair. He felt him inhale, deeply. One arm coiled around him, underneath him, and the other, lay pressed against his back. Remus failed to see how this could be even remotely comfortable for Sirius.

"No you weren't." He said firmly. "Who hurt you."

"Fuck off Sirius. No one hurt me." Remus swiped his arm back, completely failing to hit anything. Sirius sighed and pressed his fingers into the freshly healed wounds. All politeness was forgotten, and lost to his desire to sleep. "Those are fucking sore you know. Stop touching them."

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"You said you wanted me to stay with you for a while didn't you?" Sirius held him a bit tighter at that. "You said you just wanted to sleep next to me for a bit?"

"Yeah."

"Well shut up and let me sleep, then." Remus said sharply. "Stop asking stupid questions."

Sirius started to meet him regularly after that. Always meeting him after work. Always on Saturdays, and, generally, at least once or twice midweek. Sirius became his most frequent and reliable client. Sometimes Sirius booked them a room, usually, they went back to the brothel. Sirius always made an effort though. He was always showered and clean shaven, and smelled of a subtle, expensive aftershave.
Remus decided that there could be far worse men to have as his most loyal customer.

*
"What do you think about Quidditch, then?" asked Sirius. Remus rolled over and cleared his throat. Remus had made several comments about how the other people he saw weren't as talkative after sex as Sirius was. Sirius liked to think it set him apart from the others. Showed he cared.

"I don't really follow it." Remus replied. "Only bother with international games, really."

"Oh." Sirius felt a little disappointed. He fastened his belt. "You don't have a team then?"

"Nope. Do you?" Remus asked. He barely sounded half interested. It didn't bother Sirius though. It had never bothered him at all.

"Montrose Magpies." Said Sirius, smiling. Remus sat up, and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That's my Dad's team." He said, smiling. Sirius felt his mouth stretch itself into a grin.

"Really?" he asked. Remus nodded, and beamed back. Though Sirius noted, there was still something... not quit there, about his smile, he chose to ignore it.

"S'pose they're my team as well." Remus said, a little wistfully. "Seems like fate." He sighed. Sirius felt his heart flutter, just a little. It clenched, however, when he remembered Remus had a family. He had parents who might have cared about him. He was someone's son. And Sirius was paying him for... things.

"Do your parents know you do this?" Sirius found himself asking, impulsively, the words spilling from his mouth without consulting his brain first. Remus' brow crinkled.

"What? That I'm a wh-"

"Yeah." Sirius cut him off, suddenly. He wasn't quite sure why. "That you do this." Remus snorted at him.

"Do your parents know you do this?" Sirius flushed, and shook his head.

"No." He replied, swallowing. "I ran away from home." Remus ran a hand through his hair, looking not quite interested.

"Me too." Said Remus.

"Why?" Sirius asked. His head had failed to remind him of the concept of tact or social propriety,

"Dunno really." Remus said, his eyes rolling back into his head, ponderously. "Felt like I was imposing." He laughed a bit, to himself. Sirius just frowned, not quite seeing the joke.

"I can't tell if you're being funny or not."

"Can't you?" Remus laughed again, louder this time, and fell out of his sitting position, back onto the bed.

"Aren't you going to tell me if you were being funny or not?"

"Nope." Remus said flatly. He lifted his wrist lazily and looked at the face of his battered old watch. He sighed. "Why did you run away from home then?" he asked. Sirius straightened the collar of his school shirt, regretting not changing into a t-shirt a little.

"My family are mental." Said Sirius gravely. He saw Remus wrinkle his nose.

"How mental could they be?" he asked, disapprovingly.

"I'm Sirius Black." Remus sat up again at that, his eyes widened in surprise, his lip curled in horror.

"Fucking hell."

"Yep."

"Didn't they come looking for you?" Remus said, spluttering his words a bit. Sirius wasn't sure why.

"Nah. It was more like... I ran away before they could throw me out." Sirius replied. His leaving the family home was almost a mutual agreement, only, with more shouting and cursing and throwing of antiques.

"Ah." Said Remus, rubbing his eyes and wrapping the thin duvet around his waist, he stood up, and made his way over to the window.

"Did yours come looking?" Sirius asked. Remus shrugged, his eyes fixed on the rain spattering against the windows and the street below them.

"Dunno." He said. "They had me registered dead, though."

*
"Do you follow Quidditch, love?" The woman rasped. She picked her bra up from the floor and fastened it backwards, spinning it around and pulling the lacy cups over her breasts, and the straps, over her narrow, sharp shoulders. Steely grey was seeping out into her bleached blonde hair, which hung lank and too straight, just past her chin.

"To a degree." Said Remus. The woman smiled, the wrinkles around her thinned lips became, for a moment, undetectable.

"I used to play Quidditch, you know." She said. The smile, though it caused the corners of her eyes to crease, lifted years from her. Remus raised his eyebrows.

"Mmm?"

"I'm Leda Thomas." She nodded, and tugged her skirt on, over her dimpled thighs and her non-existent arse, "Played for the arrows. '63 to '68," She paused and looked up at him hopefully "I don't suppose... Have you heard of me?" Remus, without thinking, nodded.

"Yeah! Course!" He grinned. "The Arrows were my Dad's team. Come to think of it, I think I remember your last match." Said Remus. The woman, Leda, sighed.

"When I had my accident. I'm not surprised you remember that." She said, what was left of her right arm twitched. "First recorded limb loss since 1834." She sighed. "Everyone always said it was a shame. I could have been so great." She tugged on her blouse, and began to fasten up the buttons.

"You were great." Remus said firmly. "I remember my dad always used to go on about... oh... erm, what was that match? The one where you... did that broom thing. And just... got to the snitch... before... Whatsisface." He said, snapping his fingers and screwing up his face like he was trying to remember. She lit up.

"You mean when we played the Tornados in, in '65, when they were top of the league and, and I did the Wronski Feint!"

"Yeah!" Remus grinned, relieved and, frankly quite impressed with himself.

"I... I can't believe anyone still remembers that." She laughed and shook her head, tugging on a light green robe.

"Well I do. My Dad used to go on about it an awful lot. Whenever the arrows played, he used to say, Oh I wish they had someone like Thompson-"

"Thomas." She muttered, stepping into her sensible, green heels. Remus gave her his nervous, crooked smile.

"I said Thomas, didn't I?" he said worriedly. She looked guilty.

"Oh." She nodded. "'Course you did. I just misheard."
Before she left, she whispered, Thank you and kissed him, rather too tenderly on the forehead. Remus wasn't quite sure how to react to that.
The extra few galleons, however.

*
"How old are you?" asked Sirius.

"Why do you want to know now?" Remus asked suspiciously. Sirius shrugged.

"I'm just curious." He said innocently, raising his hands to his chest. Remus shuffled between Sirius legs, and busied himself undoing his jeans for him.

"I was seventeen two weeks ago." Remus said, scowling at the second button, he obviously hadn't noticed. Sirius' mouth dropped, guilt made his chest clench.

"Were you? I'd have gotten you something." He said. Remus undid the button, then looked up at him, disbelieving.

"Mmm. Give me another twenty, and we'll call it even." He said, smiling. Sirius still couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.

"Alright. I always just assumed you were at least... a bit older than I was."

"Did you?"

"You're actually like... four months younger than me."

"Well there you go."

*
"Oh for fuck's sake, Padfoot!" whined James, flopping back onto the wall, with his arms folded. Sirius ran the brush through a lock of hair, and pushed it back off his face.

"What?" Sirius set the brush down on the bed, but carried on in front of the mirror, plucking at his jeans.

"You're preening. Again." James said, shaking his head, and sounding thoroughly disappointed.

"Yes... so what if I am?" asked Sirius. He turned to face James now, who straightened, arms still folded.

"So you're seeing him. Again."

"Yep." Sirius brushed a few hairs from his t-shirt. James scowled. "What?"

"Well... tell you the truth Sirius, me and Wormy are starting to feel a bit neglected." He huffed, Sirius smirked at him and James began to pout. "I mean... we wouldn't just start... fucking off every spare moment we had, just because we had a girlfriend." Sirius laughed, in utter disbelief of his friend's words. Sirius knew the second Lily Evans finally gave in, he'd certainly be playing second fiddle. But he didn't like to think about that.

"He's not my boyfriend." Sirius tutted. "We're just fucking around, stupid."

"I don't get why you always make such an effort if you're just fucking around." James sneered. "Or why you keep abandoning me and Peter." Sirius rolled his eyes, and hurled a balled up pair of socks at James.

"Bugger off. I'm not abandoning you, you bloody drama queen." Sirius chuckled and James stuck his tongue out.

"You are a bit though." James changed his posture, resting one hand on his hip, and letting the other fall limp at the wrist. He took a great sniff, and wobbled his lip. "You're dumping me for some other bloke, who isn't even any where near as good looking as me."

"Don't lie to yourself James, it's not good for you." Sirius laughed, while James looked rather appalled.

"It is! And I'm not lying to myself! He's all pale and pinched and poorly looking!"

"Be that as it may..." Sirius sighed, and smiled to himself. "He has the most lovely mouth. And nice eyes. And he's got a lot of scars, but I like them. And his hair is nice and soft." Sirius snapped away from his image of Remus, to see a horrified James. "You can't compete with that Prongs, your hair is more wiry than my pubes."

"Eugh! Rank!" James moaned, burying his face in his palms (and giving his hair a surreptitious feel.) While James recovered, Sirius hunted around the room for his wallet. James, merely watched him for a moment or two, his face thoughtful. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "Erm... Sirius... You don't... love him, or anything. Do you?" Sirius shuddered, and attributed it to the draft in the room.

"Just stay out of it Prongs." He said affectionately. "I appreciate your concern, but you're well out of your depth here."

"That's a yes, then?"

"That's a fuck off." Sirius found his wallet, and was now fit to leave the grounds, his confidence long having out grown the need for the invisibility cloak.

"Alright. Message received." James held up his hands in defeat, suddenly grinning. "... Bender." He muttered.

Sirius left the dormitory, but not before smacking James around the back of the head.

*

Mark dropped a bowl of salad on the table, in front of Remus; eyeing him suspiciously. Remus eyed back, more suspicious. He eyed the salad with the same distrust for good measure. Mark leaned in, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes?" Said Remus "To what do I owe this invasion of my personal bubble?"

"That boy, Remus." Said Mark. "That boy, with the pretty hair, and the cheekbones."

"What about him." Remus leant back in his chair. Mark leant forward, picking up a leaf of lettuce and twirling it between his fingers.

"He's here all the fucking time." He pointed the lettuce accusatorily at Remus. "And he's always here for you. Never anyone else."

"Yes." Remus said curtly. He could see the dirty little cogs in Mark's brain churning.

"And you bring him straight back from the Hog's Head."

"I do."

"You love him, don't you." Mark poked Remus on the tip of his nose with the lettuce leaf. Remus snatched the leaf, and dropped it back into the salad bowl.

"I love his cash." He said bluntly. "And his arse is pretty top notch as well. He's just a rich, attractive client who happens to have gotten himself inexplicably attached to me." Mark kicked him under the table.

"I don't believe you." He replied, firm yet petulant. Remus kicked him back.

"That's because you keep a stack of those silly Mills and Boon novels in your wardrobe, behind a couple of shoe boxes filled with soppy love letters." Mark went bright red.

"You snooped around in my room?"

"You snoop around in mine all the time!"

"I've never read your love letters!" Mark threw an olive at him and missed. "I didn't even touch any of your silly, precious magic books!"

"I don't keep bloody love letters." Said Remus, rolling his eyes, picking the olive up off the table and throwing it back at Mark. "And my magic books are not silly." He snapped. The olive hit Mark square on the chin.

"Then neither are my Mills and Boon novels." He huffed. "Some of them are really rather compelling."

A/N: Remember to review. My ego needs feeding.