"I thought you so loved hearing me whinge about drama club!" Sirius said sarcastically. "Do you still take sugar with your tea?"

"Yes. Just the one now though." Remus called. The spoon clinked against the inside of the china tea cup as he stirred. Trust James to buy him most feminine fucking tea set he could have possibly found. As if it wasn't bad enough to own a tea set in the first place, all the cups – the saucers and the fucking tea pot – were pink and flowery. He refused to use it. It was just unfortunate that all his mugs were still packed away. He supposed they were rather... pretty. They'd do.

"Good. I always said taking four sugars would rot your teeth eventually."

"It did rot my teeth. I've got about nine fillings."

"Nine?" Sirius picked up both cups and walked into the living room. He placed his tea on the small coffee table.

"I had a sweet tooth as a child and my mother didn't bully me into brushing my teeth every five minutes. It was bound to happen."

"I suppose that's one of the few things I had to thank my mother for..." He handed Remus his tea and sat next to him on the sofa. "Were it not for her obsession with looking good for the cameras, I'd have ended up with teeth like a dilapidated, yellowing fence."

"Thank you, Sirius." Remus said, resting the tea cup on his thigh, and keeping his fingers looped through the handle. He had lovely hands. Long and thin, elegant looking. "This is a really nice flat, by the way." He said.

His voice was still as lovely and lilting as it was at the funeral. It could probably make the foulest, filthiest words sound lyrical and sweet. His mind then began to fabricate filthy words in Remus' voice. He pinched himself, lightly, on the thigh and gave Remus a slightly strained smile. Remus' eyes were bright, innocent... Entirely platonic. Sirius coughed.

"Er, I'm not settled yet. It'll look less... empty once I've had time to make a mess." Sirius said, with a smile. Remus looked around the room again, he looked impressed.

"I rather like it. Very modern. The rectory is very cluttered... Due more to its size than anything - terribly old fashioned as well- I do try to keep it tidy."

"Oh I doubt that. I know what you constitute as tidy, Lupin. I remember what your bedroom used to look like. You just push the rubbish to the sides." Sirius grinned at him. Remus lifted his tea to his mouth and took a sip. Sirius watched his bottom lip press to the side of the cup, while his top lip brushed the rim. He had nice lips. Pink and pillowy.

"People change, Sirius." He said softly. His kind sounding words stung Sirius, just a little. He ripped his eyes from Remus' mouth.

"Yeah... I suppose." Sirius mumbled. He decided to change the subject. "You still hang round with your old friends?"

"Goodness, no." Remus shook his head. "I haven't seen them in years. Andrew moved to London when he was eighteen, got a job selling houses. And Karen and Johnny got married."

"You only gave that five minutes." Said Sirius, surprised. Remus pursed his lips.

"I did indeed. They had a daughter, I do believe, but they got divorced after a few months."

"So you were right, in the end?" Sirius laughed nervously. Remus quirked an eyebrow and took another sip of his tea. Sirius forgot Catholics weren't big on divorce... Bollocks.

"I suppose." He sighed. "Whatever happened to James and Peter?" he asked, lightly. Too lightly for the answer the question was due. Sirius took a deep breath and braced himself to tell that story.

"Oh. It's erm..." He fumbled his words. "It all went to shit, really." Remus' eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What happened?" he asked, he moved his cup from his thigh to the coffee table, leaning forward and turning his head to face Sirius. Sirius found him self slightly intimidated by what was, clearly, Remus' undivided attention. He always had been a good listener.

"Um. Do you remember hearing about Tom Riddle?" Sirius asked, tentatively. Remus shook his head.

"No?"

"He was a director in the sixties... He liked working with... with my family, mostly. He was head of... bloody stupid name the tabloids gave it, The Killer Cult of Salisbury." Remus' eyes slid shut, as if he knew what Sirius was about to tell him.

"Oh, goodness yes, of course."

"It was all my fucking fault." Sirius mumbled. "Riddle decided... Erm, well James was working as a prosecutor at the time and he'd just put away a big criminal circuit. And Riddle and his cult were like... they were obsessed with creating chaos. And they decided that, well this is just what the police thought, that James had done too much to prevent chaos? And that his child was like... Going to be Riddle's ultimate adversary... Something odd like that, anyway. They didn't understand what they did to Harry." Remus gave a confused look and opened his mouth to ask who-

"My Godson." Sirius smiled a little. He loved Harry. "James and Lily's little boy. He was only one at the time." Sirius felt a lump forming in his throat at that. He cleared it.

"Erm, but Peter, little cunt, made documentaries," Sirius caught himself growling and evened his tone. "He'd always been a massive fan of Riddle's films- obsessed by them – and he was just so fucking desperate to know why he just stopped making them." Sirius sighed heavily and dropped his face into his palms, sick at himself. He'd only been doing a friend a favour. He let one hand fall limply into his lap, resting his forehead on the other.

"So, I said to him, since my family knew Riddle, I could probably set up for Peter to do some filming with him. Obviously, he practically came in his pants at the thought. And that was that sorted. He went down to Riddle's Salisbury manor and filmed him for a few months.

The doc went down a storm but Peter wasn't quite right after filming. He'd disappear for weeks on end then come back all... funny. I should have known something was up. I mean, granted I couldn't know Riddle had a fucking cult or anything, but I should have worked out there was something dodgy going on.

Any way, James and Lily had this little holiday home in Cumbria... You know how much money James' family had, it was a lovely little cottage, hardly anyone knew where it was, so neither of them could be bothered by their work... they were just... Lily was a Doctor. And things were so busy for both of them... I told them they should take Harry and go away for the weekend." Sirius took in a great shuddering breath. He jumped, shocked, when he felt Remus' palm clasp around his own. He smiled at Sirius, warm and reassuring, sending a shiver up his spine.

"Peter told Riddle where the cottage was." He continued, his voice venomous. "Drove him there, the police reckoned." He laughed bitterly. "Tried to pin it on me. I spent three days in custody." Remus gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "He... Stabbed James. Three times in the stomach. Left him to die on the doorstep then went upstairs for Lily and Harry. He caught James off guard but Lily was prepared. She fought him." Sirius fought the urge to gag at the memory, the image burned so clearly into the back of his mind, it took him almost three years to stop seeing it every time he closed his eyes.

"She looked like a..." Sirius rubbed his palm over his face, searching for the words to describe Lily's body. "Have you ever watched a fish being gutted? I..." Sirius shook his head. And gave up trying to describe the scene he'd stumbled upon. He'd thought James had been bad.

"Because they were there for an extra day, and I was living in Glasgow at the time, only a two hour drive. So I thought I might as well check in on them..." he felt tears burning the back of his eyes, his voice tight. "Sorry..." He mumbled. "It's a fucking miracle James survived the night. An absolute fucking miracle. Lily never had a chance."

"What about the baby?" asked Remus, looking stricken in his sympathy.

"Riddle carved a lightning bolt into his head and left. He was just hungry and frightened. Found him sitting next to Lily. Covered in her blood. Pulling her hair." Sirius' throat was getting tighter and tighter. His voice weaker and weaker.

"Is he alright now? Is James alright?"

"Harry is good. Doesn't remember a thing. He likes football and reading. Not that James would know... He leaves him with Lily's sister most of the time." Sirius rolled his eyes. Thankful that his disapproval of James could replace the memories he just dredged up.

"James... is not so good. He left his job, works in PR now. Drinks too much and drags strange women home, so it's probably better Harry lives with Petunia most of the time." Sirius clicked his tongue and sat back on the sofa. He relaxed his neck, his head flopping sideward to face Remus. Remus still had hold of his hand. Remus had warm hands.

"Harry hates it there. I've offered to let him come and live with me while James... Just to give him a chance to get back on his feet. But he says Harry needs to be around a proper family." Sirius frowned. "I really should have asked him sober, but James' exact words were 'he can't live with you, don't you think it'll fuck him up if you're there with other blokes all the time. No offense mate, but I don't want him turning out like you.' Wanker."

"So you're... Definitely, completely that way inclined then?" Remus asked, cautiously. Sirius smirked, feeling oddly drained.

"You of all people should know that, Remus." Remus shook his head and blushed, yanking his hand away. Sirius exhaled noisily as he stood up, patting Remus on the thigh. "Tell you what, I'm going to go and break out my whisky, if that's alright with you... I think I need it."

"Fine with me." Remus nodded and crossed his legs, linking his fingers and primly setting them on his knee.

Sirius pulled his whisky from one of his kitchen cupboards (took him a minute to remember which one he'd put it in) and pulled one glass down from another, pausing before he took a second.

"Do you want any?"

"I... I'd better not." He mumbled.

"You sure?" Sirius asked, taking the second glass from the cupboard anyway. "You might as well. If you don't like whisky, I've got wine... I might have vodka in here somewhere as well."

"... Whisky will be fine." Said Remus, defeated.

"Excellent choice, Sir," Said Sirius. "Only the finest stuff in this flat, this is the best whisky Scotland has to offer." Sirius unscrewed the bottle, and poured a rather generous helping of the amber coloured liquid into both glasses.

"I have to say, I prefer Irish."

"Heathen." Sirius shook his head. "Do you take ice?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Good, because I don't have any." Sirius took a glass in each hand and brought them over to the sofa. "Something more cheerful, I think." He said, setting both glasses down on the coffee table, Remus picking his up and beginning to nurse it instantly. "How's dear old Moira doing?"

"Mam's alright." Remus nodded and took rather a large sip of his whisky, "She got married again in '81, told her she shouldn't dwell on Dad forever."

"That's nice. Any kids?" Sirius asked, knocking his drink back in a few gulps. Remus gave him an understanding smile. Sirius regretted not bringing the bottle.

"Nope. She can't. She had a hysterectomy not too long after I was born." Remus took another large sip of his drink.

"Bit young for that, wasn't she?" Sirius said. "Sod it, I'm getting the bottle, just keep talking."

"Alright. But, yes, it was very unusual." Sirius strode across the room and grabbed the bottle from the cupboard, "It's a shame really. She was really happy when I told her I wanted to be a priest, but I think she was a bit gutted when she realised she probably wasn't going to get any grandchildren out of me." Sirius sat down and refilled his glass.

"She has Keith's Grandchildren though. They're not hers but she loves them just the same. Spoils the little buggers rotten." Sirius smiled, and looked down at his drink. Feeling the last one hit him, rather suddenly, rather like a particularly dizzying punch, he decided to take this one a bit slower.

"She still living round here?" Sirius asked, flopping back into his lovely, squashy sofa.

"Surrey." Remus shook his head. "I try get down before Christmases and Easters."

"Aah." Sirius took a sip of his drink, "Remus... I really hope you don't take this the wrong way-"

"Oh dear." Remus mumbled. He finished his drink in one gulp.

"But why did you become a priest?" Sirius looked at Remus, a wearied expression appearing on his face. "I mean, when we last spoke, you were going to be a psychologist, weren't you?"

Sirius wasn't sure if it was the alcohol - or just the alcohol allowing him to think like this - but Remus was looking more and more appealing by the minute. He'd grown into himself, beautifully. Handsome in his own way, the heat and the alcohol making his long, slim neck and his cheeks glow prettily in the soft light of Sirius' flat. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes... I was... I suppose I changed my mind." Remus shrugged and refilled his glass. Sirius couldn't help but think his hands looked fucking amazing wrapped around the neck of the whisky bottle.

"Oh. Is that it?" Sirius glared and clicked his tongue. "Alright, if you're going to give me a fucking copout answer like that after I spilled my guts to you, fine." He took a sip of his drink. It was smoky, almost woody, and burnt his throat pleasantly on swallowing.

"Oh hush." Remus shook his head, in that same longsuffering way he always had.

"Just tell me." He looked at Sirius with tired eyes that flickered with fear.

"... I don't want to."

"Christ... alright. I'll ask you an easier question." Sirius sneered, sourly. "Why didn't you write me back?" Remus gave a thoughtful look and sighed.

"I wrote you letter, upon letter, upon letter, Sirius." He took a drink, his eyes sliding shut, his tone strange. Bitter. Regretful. "... As much as I hate to... I half suspect my mother was intercepting them."

"What?"

"... She had suspicions. She never voiced them properly but... She had her suspicions, I could tell." Remus gave him a sad, heavy look.

"Oh." Sirius blinked. "I just... I just thought you'd gone off me." Remus broke eye contact and stared, blankly into his drink.

"I thought the same." Remus' lips were pressed together tightly. "Evidently, you did go off me, though."

"If I'd have gotten a fucking letter back, I'd never have done it." Sirius spat. "After what happened, I fucking wished I hadn't." He sighed.

"... I know. I realise that now." Remus closed his eyes. He sounded fucking miserable.

"It was a nightmare." Sirius groaned at the memory, "Press wouldn't leave me alone... Family weren't speaking to me because of Orion and his fucking religious values." Sirius scoffed, angrily, his voice rising in volume.

"You'd think I'd fucking killed someone or something! Much worse things I could have done than being caught coked up, in an alley, with my hands down some bloke's trousers!" Remus flinched. Sirius had no idea why, it was all over the fucking papers, there's no way he couldn't have known what Sirius had been doing.

"I was set to go to RADA. They made me do my A-levels a year early, and then I was supposed to go off to study a discipline I couldn't fucking stand." He scowled. "It was all to fucking much... PR agent told the papers I went abroad to study. Then made up this thing about touring the independent theatre scene on the continent." He gave Remus a pointed look. "That's bollocks. I had a total nervous breakdown about a week before I was due to go off to RADA. Spent about eight months in a nice, secluded mental hospital."

Remus gave him a guilty look.

"... Fuck."

"Yep." Sirius took a drink. It had been a rather pleasant few months, in his opinion.

"Then what happened?" Remus asked, as if Sirius' life had been an episode of a favourite television programme he'd missed.

"I told RADA to stuff it. Changed my last name, went to Glasgow and did physics. Then I shut myself in my flat studied my arse off day and night, till, at twenty five, I emerged with a PhD." He clinked his glass limply against Remus'. "A PhD and... no social life." He snorted. The whisky had gone to his head awfully quickly.

"Good about the doctorate though."

"Oh aye. It picked back up again though. Work mates and a couple of boyfriends, but I can't hang on to anyone longer than a few months." He sighed, his voice dripping with a strange contentment.

"Why's that?" Remus asked, a blank expression on his face, rather than the one of, at least, mild disgust Sirius had expected.

"... Aren't you going to lecture me about my sinful lifestyle?" He questioned, more curious than defiant. Remus rolled his eyes, dramatically.

"No, Sirius. No, I'm bloody not." Remus narrowed his eyes and downed the last of his whisky, flopping flaccidly back against the sofa. "I'm a priest, that doesn't mean I'm a bigoted arsehole."

"It kind of does though, mate." Sirius reached over and patted his thigh.

"I'm not." He huffed. "I think God loves everyone." Sirius left his hand on Remus' thigh

"But you think I'm a sinner."

"I think..." Remus appeared to consider his answer carefully. "There's nothing wrong with love... But lust... Lust is where the sin lies." He said sagely.

"I think there's something wrong with people who feel guilty about having a shag when they want one." Sirius squeezed Remus' thigh, rubbing his thumb slowly over the soft fabric of his trousers.

"Sirius..." Remus' eyes shut tight.

"Why won't you just tell me why you're a priest?" Sirius purred, Remus' eyes tightened again.

"Because!" His hands were balled up into fists.

"Was it something to do with... me?" Sirius asked, hesitantly. His entire face was contorted now.

"No. Yes. Fuck."

"Just tell me."

"I can't." Sirius set his glass down on the table, and then took off his glasses. He moved closer to Remus. Putting a palm against his cheek, he pushed Remus' face till he could only look at Sirius. He held Remus' face in his hands and rested their foreheads together.

"... I never went off you, you know." He whispered. "Ten years. I spent ten years waiting for a letter... Waiting for nothing. I thought I'd get over it eventually. I thought I'd gotten over it... But, Remus, here you are." He brushed his thumbs across Remus' glowing cheeks, their tips, just skimming his eyelashes. Remus' eyes fluttered open, looking pained, his brow furrowed. "And look at you."

"Sirius... Please-"

Stop. Go. Do. Don't. In this moment, Sirius didn't care what Remus wanted.