A/N: Hello loves, D here. Just wanted to drop a quick note, as usual, thanking Remy, my beta, my sister, who has been most helpful at poining out little slashy details in canon (it just works so much better if they are a couple) and Bottlebrush and LadyAnalyn for reviewing, as well as all of you who have put this story on alert. I love hearing your feedback/comments/criticism, so feel free to share it with me by clicking the little blue "Review" button. Thank you!

4: Only Some Closure

"Ah, Remus," Albus Dumbledore says, sitting at his desk with an expectant smile. "Come in. Take a seat."

Remus enters Dumbledore's study, crossing to the desk in three long strides, but does not sit down. Instead, he slams his hand down on the edge of the desk and starts speaking, unable to control his words, "Albus, you must listen. Sirius is an innocent man, Pettigrew's alive, I saw him myself, he was the one who betrayed Lily and James, I would have told you sooner only—you can't let the Dementors perform the Kiss, Albus, they have the wrong—"

"Remus, calm down," Dumbledore instructs, and Remus feels like a boy again, sticking up for James and Sirius, defending their latest prank. "Sit. Have a lemon drop, it will calm your nerves."

"Have a lemon drop?!" Remus is sure, almost sure, that he will completely lose all self control. He remembers being told that there is something off in Dumbledore's mind, but he has always held Dumbledore in the utmost respect, like a second father, and has never, ever believed it before now. He wants, he needs, to know the whole story. He'd heard bits and pieces in his brief appearance at breakfast, but most of those were isolated words and phrases like "Sirius Black," "capture," and "Dementor's Kiss."

"Pettigrew escaped, I'm afraid. Sirius was scheduled to receive the kiss last night, after his recapture," Dumbledore says calmly, as if he were talking about the weather. Remus sinks down into the chair, unable to speak. "However," Dumbledore continues, bright blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles, "thanks to the cleverness and bravery of two of your students, with the help of a Time-Turner, both the lives of Sirius and the hippogriff Buckbeak, slated for execution, have been spared."

Remus exhales, calmly, after holding his breath for what seems like an eternity. He rests his head on the cool wood of the back of the chair, relief flooding over him. It was Harry, it had to have been Harry, who saved Sirius, and because Ron couldn't walk, Hermione must have helped, clever girl. He doesn't realize that he is grinning from ear to ear until he opens his mouth to speak again. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner, Albus, but I had to…return to the castle, and I was deep into the Forbidden Forest by sunrise. And then the fiasco at breakfast—"

"Ah," Dumbledore says knowingly.

"Which reminds me." Remus reaches into his pocket and pulls out several sheets of paper. Placing them in front of Dumbledore, he explains, "My resignation. You've already suffered enough at my expense, and I couldn't cause you any more trouble on account of my…furry little problem."

Dumbledore looks saddened but unsurprised. "I'm sorry to hear that, Remus. You will be sorely missed, not just by the staff." He meets Remus' eyes knowingly, and adds softly, "Harry drove off nearly a hundred Dementors last night."

Remus bows his head humbly and says, merely, "James would be proud." He stands up, ready to end the meeting, and closes with, "Thank you. I—I thank you." He turns.

"One more thing," Dumbledore calls. Remus turns back to face the Headmaster, still seated at his desk. "In light of very recent events, Remus, that is, evidence that Voldemort will soon rise again, once Pettigrew finds him, I have been contacting other members of the Order of the Phoenix. I am not saying that Voldemort will come to power next week – it could take months, even years, before we see the signs – but when he does, we need to be prepared."

"Now, as a functioning member of the Order," Dumbledore explains, "it is important, for the sake of a normal appearance, that you have some kind of occupation and somewhere to go. Oh yes," he says, registering Remus' surprise. "You didn't think I'd let you leave without having somewhere else to go, did you? Which is why I have taken the liberty of setting you up in a very ordinary, somewhat inexpensive flat, and a job – hold on, Remus – a job which, while probably not of an enormous amount of interest to you, you can surely duck out of once a month when you are feeling too under the weather. You're good with your excuses by now, I suppose." They blue eyes twinkle at Remus, who stands there, absolutely shocked, and with no idea of what to say. "Thank you" doesn't seem like enough.

"And," Dumbledore continues, "if you would do something else for me."

"Anything," Remus swears.

"Keep your ears peeled for news of Sirius Black," Dumbledore says. "It would be preferable to keep our friend alive, wouldn't you agree? Try to find him, before…before anyone else. Do you understand me?" Remus nods. He'd planned on doing this anyway, whatever else happened to him. Anyone else finding Sirius would surely result in disaster. "Although I'm confident, Remus, that one of you will find the other, eventually. After all," and Dumbledore says this with particular significance, "you are all that he has left."

Did he know? Remus wonders as he shook Dumbledore's hand in awed silence. Could he possibly, possibly know? "I should pack," Remus says out loud, and he turns, again, to leave.

"Remus—" He looks over his shoulder. Dumbledore is smiling at him. "Good luck."

Remus came to in a great, curved room, all arched windows and vaulted ceiling, and it took him a second to realize where he must be. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the splintered remains of a doorframe and he knew that this was the room that he and Sirius had eavesdropped upon last night. He then realized that there were ropes around his hands and feet and felt something smooth against his back and knew that he must be, somehow, against a wall. He tried to lunge forward, but couldn't; he could almost feel the spell that was keeping him there. He looked to his right and saw Sirius in the same situation, only much more alert and very irate.

"So kind of you to join us," said Lucius Malfoy's voice.

Remus looked up and saw at least a dozen hooded figures staring back at him, unmoving, each face hidden behind a mask. They were impossibly still, like statues, and lined around the room in a semi-circle, with the exception of Malfoy, who was in the center. The two on the edges had their wands pointed at Remus and Sirius, and Remus was sure that those were the ones who were responsible for their immobilization. If he could only reach his wand, he was sure that he would be able to counter the spell, and he noticed suddenly that his wand wasn't in his pocket, but on a table, by the door, far out of his reach.

"Hello Lucius," Sirius snarled. "Your hospitality is as generous as ever."

Malfoy's wand passed across his face, and the mask vanished. He was wearing an expression of extreme distastes as he stepped forward, within inches of Sirius' face, studying it. "I know you," he muttered. "You're a Black. The Black Sheep, as it were. Ran away from home, didn't you?"

"Very clever pun, Malfoy." Sirius' voice dripped with sarcasm. Remus thought frantically that Sirius should have more sense than to taunt a man holding a wand at his throat. "Just because I didn't want to grow up to be a fucking Death Eater like—"

"Such language, cousin," said the person whose wand was pointing at Remus, and Bellatrix, too, revealed herself. "Where have your manners gone? Surely you haven't forgotten them all. Or maybe—" she smiled tantalizingly at Sirius, "You don't need them anymore, hanging around with scum like one."

"Easy, Bellatrix," Malfoy said, still looking at Sirius' livid face. "We would like this to be as pleasant as possible, wouldn't we?"

Sirius looked at Remus, and seemed to notice for the first time how pale and afraid his friend looked, and nodded. Remus felt ashamed of himself for being, well, not as brave as Sirius. Or, maybe, as stupid. Couldn't he see that, no matter what, the Death Eaters would have to kill them? They needed a plan. Remus wasn't good with plans. He was good with schoolwork, not plans. Schemes were Sirius' thing.

"Good. Now, enlighten us, if you would, as to how you came to be here last night."

"Where's here?" Sirius replied, apparently trying a different tactic. "I've never seen this place before in my life. I'm not sure what you want with us, Malfoy, but—"

Bellatrix jerked her wand suddenly, and Remus fell forward onto the floor. She bent low over him and her breath tickled his ear as she purred softly, "This one looks so fragile, Lucius. One Cruciatus Curse and he might break. And we wouldn't want that, would we…" she pronounced the last word with special emphasis, "cousin?" He heard some of the Death Eaters snicker behind him.

"We followed Snape here," Sirius admitted, pained. "We saw him in Hogsmeade and decided to see what he was up to."

"You weren't instructed to trail him?"

"What? Who would want—" Sirius glanced at Remus again. "No."

"And when you got here, what did you see?"

"Nothing. We had just arrived when your lot blasted all those spells at us, and we ran away."

"He lies," someone, an unidentifiable someone, hissed. Malfoy glared at Sirius and raised his wand threateningly.

"You asked Snape questions!" Remus supplied, fearing for Sirius' safety suddenly much more than his own. "He cursed someone. You were impressed with him. You instructed him not to tell anyone about the meeting."

"So you can speak, hmm?" Bellatrix murmured in his ear. "And then what? Did you tell anyone what you saw?"

Remus squirmed. James and Peter knew, but if he said that, they would go after them as well. "No one. Didn't tell anyone."

Bellatrix glanced upward at one of the other Death Eaters, who nodded. Of course Remus was telling the truth. Sirius had told James and Peter, not him. He glanced back up at Sirius, who looked, to the Death Eaters, disappointed at his friend's willingness to talk, but his eyes said, "Thank you for stalling for time, I now have a very rash plan which I am going to put into action." Remus braced himself, nervous, and yet somehow oddly excited. Sirius' crazy plans always seemed to work.

Malfoy nodded. His eyes flickered between Sirius and Remus. "Your…friend has some common sense. And you—" Sirius struggled against the ropes again, in vain, snarling. "Such spirit. You would have been an excellent addition to the Death Eaters. It will be a pity to kill you both."

"Well," Sirius said brightly, too brightly, "Hate to cause you pain, but you seem to have no other choice."

"Yes," Malfoy agreed. "Indeed." He raised his wand.

Sirius turned into a dog so quickly that no one could tell exactly what happened. Malfoy, startled, dropped his wand, breaking the connection which held Sirius against the wall. The ropes binding him were not meant to accommodate someone of canine proportions and slipped off easily. The surprised Death Eaters couldn't do anything more than follow him with their eyes as he bounded across the room, knocking Bellatrix over and transforming back to stand up and grab their wands. He pointed them both at the Death Eaters by Malfoy and shouted "Obliviate!"

One flash of white light, quickly followed by another, blinded Remus momentarily. He blinked, and felt an ease of pressure around his wrists and ankles; Sirius had magicked his bindings away. He stood up as Sirius tossed him his wand and—by some miracle—managed to catch it without dropping it.

"Alright there, Moony?" Sirius asked, between Stunning a Death Eater and wiping his memory. He was wearing this incredible, gorgeous smile on his face, as if he were high off of an adrenaline rush. Which he probably was.

Remus grinned despite himself, Obliviating Bellatrix, who was gaping unattractively up at Sirius. "Someday," he said, forgetting his fear, Stunning a Death Eater like it was the easiest thing in the world, "I am going to get killed, and it will be all your fault, and I will never forgive you."

"Not today, though," Sirius called from across the room, completely caught up in Stunning the Death Eaters. "Make sure you Obliviate them all too, or else they'll remember us."

Remus ducked to dodge a curse aimed at his head. Apparently some of the ones Sirius hadn't yet gotten to still had some fight left. He raised his wand and pointed, shooting Stunning spells everywhere, surprised at how nervous he wasn't, at how outnumbered they no longer were, at how unnaturally easy this all seemed to be.

The first thing he noticed was a slight shift in his senses, every color suddenly seeming a little more dull, every hint of a smell a little more potent, every sound a little louder. It was all too familiar to him. No. He looked at one of the long, tall windows. The sun had set, and moonlight was pouring into the room. He tried to call for Sirius, who was on the other side of the room, erasing the memories of the last two Death Eaters, but it came out as more of an alarmed yelp.

And then there was pain, bone-wrenching pain, as he doubled over, trying to control himself—not now, no, please, not now—in vain, as fur began appearing on the back of his hands, as he stared at them and his fingers curled into balled fists against his will, fists which blurred and blended into paws. He clawed at his face, which was lengthening, his skull was expanding, his skin felt like it would rip at any moment…his clothes did rip and fall away as his body changed from that of a boy that of a wolf, and then—

His own loud panting echoed his ears. A plethora of scents hit him, but one stood out. One which he hadn't smelled in awhile. Humans. Flesh. It was all around him. He lunged—

He was knocked backwards by something large, something black. He picked himself up, lunged again—the black dog seized him by the scruff of the neck. He shook it off, stood for a moment, collected himself, tried a third time—

The dog launched itself at him, and they crashed through a window. Glass flew, and he could now smell a trace of blood, his own, and the dog's, and he stood up and shook off, glass bits still stuck in his fur. The dog ran in front, mocking him, teasing him, carrying two sticks in its mouth. Something stirred in the wolf's mind. This should mean something, the dog should mean something, but it didn't. He ran after it, leapt for it, snarling.

It went like this for hours, the dog leading him all over the hills, and him in pursuit, wanting the meddlesome creature out of the way so he could hunt as he was meant to. The dog was at a disadvantage; carrying those weird sticks in his mouth, the other animal couldn't bite. Stupid, he was the better suited animal. He caught up to it a couple of times and managed to strike until the dog twisted itself at an angle where it could kick him or claw him away.

They came upon some rickety old building—this should, too, be significant somehow, but it wasn't—the door was boarded up, but the dog flung itself at it once, twice, a loud crash and it broke and the animal bolted inside. He could smell its blood.

Nose to the ground, he followed the dog in, howling, certain of victory. It's wounded, he knows, and no match. He finds it upstairs, waiting for him, sticks discarded somewhere, whining in an almost pleading way. The werewolf registers this as fear. He slashes at it. It bites back. And from there it's all a mess of teeth and claws and bites and scratches and on and on and on—

Until he feels something change in the dynamics of the fight, and the dog isn't clawing or biting with nearly as much strength, and it tries to grab on with its mouth but it gets thrown across to the other side of the room, and hits the wall, and whimpers and falls to the floor. He growls at it and turns to get back outside.

And suddenly the smell of blood changed, and he looked back and there was a human boy lying where the dog used to be. He sniffs, approaches, and was about to bite it, rip into it, when he realized.

Sirius.

Early morning light is leaking into the Shack between the hastily constructed planks. Remus feels himself easing back into his own skin, the fur shedding, the sharpened teeth becoming dull again, his senses returning to normal rather painlessly, and he is dimly aware of the fact that he aches all over and he isn't wearing any clothing but that isn't important right now. What was important was that Sirius is lying on his side and bleeding and maybe not breathing, and that he, Remus, must have done that.

He crawled over to his friend, grabbed his wrist, felt for a pulse…oh, he'd never been good at feeling for pulses, even on himself…he'd never thought he'd need to know how—his heart was pounding so strongly in his ears that he wasn't sure he could concentrate on anything else. He jabbed his fingers into Sirius's wrist with a terrified energy—anything, please, anything...

"Moony," Sirius moaned. "You're hurting me."

And then Remus was kissing him, kissing him everywhere unblemished, his face, his neck, his hair, everywhere but his lips. And he just kept kissing him and kissing him and he really had no idea what he was doing but he was kissing him and Sirius was alive and he was just so relieved and he couldn't stop it, not if his own life depended on it, until he felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder and he realized that they were still lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and Sirius was still bleeding and Remus was so, so naked.

He curled his knees to his chest and didn't really understand what he'd just done and why he'd done it, he only knew that he could not look at Sirius for fear of what he'd see in the other boy's face. He closes his eyes and turns his head away, double protection, tense, until he feels a finger guide his face back to meet Sirius' lips.

Kissing is not at all like how it is described in books, but that's in the best possible way. Remus always thought, from reading, and from accidentally observing couples in the hallway, that the logistics always seemed sort of, well, gross. Wet. Unsanitary. This didn't feel like that at all. It was simple, soft, experimental – a brush of lips, a swipe of tongue, and then Sirius had pulled away again and he was smiling.

"Well," he said softly. His grey, grey eyes were shining.

Remus couldn't think of anything to say, so he said, "Er. I—I mean, you? I mean, I should go find some clothes."

The Marauders agreed to keep clothes for Remus in a chest of drawers on the first floor. He found it and rummaged through, his hands shaking. The drawer below it had bandages and various first aid equipment, which he grabbed. Once he had dressed, he returned upstairs to find Sirius sitting up against the wall, looking at down at himself, at all of the blood. Some of the scratches were on his arms, but the largest by far was a gash that cut straight across his abdomen. Remus was relieved to see that it looked somewhat shallow. He kneeled down and gave Sirius the bandages, then, seeing how his friend's hands were bloodless and pale, decided to do it mostly himself.

"You should have just let me bite them," he said. "I mean, I assume that you were trying to get me away from them, but I can't remember a thing. You should have just let me do it."

"I couldn't do that," Sirius replied. "Can you imagine? All of the Death Eater Werewolves running around? Merlin's beard, nowhere would be safe." He laughed, but Remus didn't. He knew that they were incredibly lucky, extremely lucky to have escaped in the first place, lucky also that Remus didn't bite someone in the process.

"The scratches," Remus said. "They should heal fine, once we take you to Madam Pomfrey. You probably—you probably won't even have a scar."

Sirius traced one of the scars on Remus' face gently with his thumb. "But then we wouldn't match," he murmured softly.

Remus didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he just did both, burying his head in Sirius' shoulder, and apologizing over and over and over, even though he didn't know what for. "It's alright," Sirius said, and he kissed Remus on his forehead, his eyes, the bridge of his nose, his cheek, until he finally found Remus' lips again, and Remus could taste his own tears.

That kiss was longer, deeper, and neither of them really wanted it to end, but Remus finally had to pull away to breathe. "I—I couldn't just tell you," he stammered. "Because there were so many times I wanted to, but I was afraid of scaring you away."

"Moony, why was I usually the one to find you in the library? Why was I treating you like glass? Why was I acting so crazy? I, er, I wasn't sure how to get the point across."

"So nearly lopping my head off with a pair of cutting shears was your way of showing affection?" Remus asked. "I suggest just telling me next time. It would be easier for both parties."

Sirius grinned. It was infectious, and Remus caught himself smiling too. "Yeah, well, you weren't really being straightforward yourself." He laughed. They both did.

"Well, as lovely as this has been, we should get you up to the castle before you bleed to death," Remus observed. "I don't think that either of us would like that very much."

Sirius shook his head as Remus helped him up. His hand groped for something on the floor, and Remus realized that Sirius had gone to the trouble of saving their wands. After handing Remus his, he staggered, a little faint from blood loss, and Remus realized just how much he was supporting him. Sirius kissed his ear. "Hey, Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we telling James and Peter?"

Remus paused and thought about this for a second. "I think…no, not yet. I'm not sure how they'd handle it."

He felt Sirius nod against his shoulder. The other boy staggered again, grabbing Remus' shirt. Remus held on to him tightly, concerned. "I'll be fine," Padfoot said. "Just watch."

Remus never told Sirius just how much of the way he had to carry him back. He could have carried him further. He could have carried him forever.

Love, he thought, is one of the stupidest, craziest things anyone has ever invented.

And thank Merlin for that.