A/N: Welcome to Part Two lovely readers. Thanks to Shadows for the beta, and to IWLTxo for the inspiration in the first place.
**~ Part Two ~**
"Elvendork? Really Prongs?" Sirius shouted in mild disbelief. He had to shout because most of the volume in his voice was lost to the wind whipping at their faces and skinning their hands as they pelted across the sky.
"It's a real name!" James yelled back, "A unisex one too!" And even though his mouth was next to Sirius's ear, his voice sounded distant.
Sirius was really putting his bike through its paces tonight. 'Close call' seemed to be the word of the day.
The Order had been hearing rumours for weeks that Voldemort himself was conducting his war operations from a terraced house in the West End. Sirius actually had a vague memory of visiting it as a small boy; his father had been good friends with old Cyril Selwyn after all.
Sirius and James had been with a few others—Fenwick, Bones and one of the Prewetts—scoping the place out, trying to gauge whether or not it was Death Eater home base. But somehow they had been spotted and in an ironic information overload Death Eaters had come swarming out of the place.
Sirius and James had stuck together while the other three scattered, and this seemed to decide the Death Eaters on better odds of capture by chasing the pair. Thankfully, cardio was not the chasing group's strong suit, and Sirius and James, both still fit from Quidditch and endless escapes though long halls and up steep flights of Hogwarts stairs from Filch, had been able to out run them while dodging curses rather easily.
The two teenagers had reached Sirius's hidden motorbike with a good lead and kicked into the air and assumed safety. Unfortunately there were more Death Eaters on patrol in the air, ones who were remarkably more suited to a high-speed chase on their Silver Arrows.
There was a singed tear in the right shoulder of Sirius's leather jacket which was evidence of the close shave, and James was cradling his wand arm close to his body, his left hand gripping tight to Sirius for balance as they began to descend.
This was the second time they had tried to land, the first time a Muggle police patrol car had come hurtling out of nowhere. Its roof lights had been blearing like a beacon to any airborne Death Eaters who were still looking for the two Order members. In fact three of them had honed in on the disturbance. James'd broken the statute of secrecy rather badly by flinging the Muggle car flying up into the approaching Death Eaters way.
James and Sirius had thrown the Muggles off reasonably quickly after that, but now Sirius was beginning to worry. James was hurt, and his precious bike was groaning a little after the taxing afternoon. Countless magical enhancements didn't really fix the fact that his old girl was two years older than Sirius himself, a '57 Triumph Thunderbird, it was all crisscrossing wheel-spokes and shiny, oversized exhaust, and frankly, bloody beautiful in Sirius's opinion.
Sirius finally brought them down on the roof of a building in central London. The wind was still strong, and his bike sputtered as they hit the hard surface. Sirius directed them into the shelter of an enclave of air-conditioning units.
James clambered from the motorbike rather ungracefully, favouring his arm, and now that Sirius could see him properly he noticed his friend was limping too. James leaned heavily against one of the tall metal ducts.
"Bloody Rosier," he said angrily, clumsily trying to roll up the leg of his jeans to get a better look at his injured calf. There was a decent bit of blood staining the heavy blue fabric, and Sirius's concern grew. James was still grumbling as the narrow gash was revealed, but Sirius couldn't understand him, because he had his wand clamped between his teeth.
"Prongs Mate," Sirius said, "sit down, I'll sort it. You know what Dorcas will say if she finds out you've been trying to patch yourself up again."
James grimaced but slid to the concrete. "I wonder if the lecture would be shorter if I told her the only other option was you."
"Shut it." Sirius grinned. "I'm loads better now, had heaps of practice." The grin slid from his face as he realised how depressing that fact was.
It had been three months since they'd left school, three months of stake-outs and skirmishes. Three months that had taught him how to dress a wound without his wand and how to heal anything superficial with it. He could even mend small broken bones and set large ones. Being a member of the Order of the Phoenix was just as dangerous as Sirius had expected. And he and James weren't nearly as good at getting out of trouble as they were at finding it.
The cut to James's leg was deep but clean, the Death Eaters seemed to favour maiming injuries rather than fatal ones Sirius thought. Half the time it was like they were playing with the Order; a nasty cut here, a disfiguring burn there. Sirius didn't get why they weren't just shooting the killing curse after every single Order member whenever they got the chance. But he supposed that wasn't something he should complain about.
"Okay, hold still," Sirius said, touching the tip of his wand to the torn skin and murmuring the incantation. At once James's skin began to knit back together "See?" he said, "Piece of cake."
"Thanks," James said gratefully, stretching his leg out. "Shit that itches," he said as he inspected the pink slash that was left.
"What about your arm?" Sirius asked. James was wearing a t-shirt, but despite most of his arm being on display Sirius could see no physical evidence of the injury.
"I dunno," James said, "It feels like it's broken." He held it out gingerly for Sirius to look at. "I didn't recognise the spell that hit it- bright purple light, I nearly lost my wand."
Sirius shook his head. "That's too big for an Episkey," he said decisively, twitching his wand as he added, "Ferula." Bandages wound tightly up James's arm; a splint appeared as they did so to keep it rigid and reduce the pain. "We'll have to go to headquarters to get it fixed."
"We need to get there any way," James said, "Lily will be tearing her hair out; we're two hours late already."
"Right," Sirius said more abruptly than he'd meant to, tugging James upright by clasping his good hand. No matter the adrenaline from a decent chase and the worry for his friend racing though him, the mention of Lily made his insides twist bitterly. Sirius was so envious of James. More than he'd ever been, and he'd always nursed a tiny bit of jealousy for James's simple life: a happy home, parents that loved him, blah blah. But all that seemed petty compared to his relationship with Lily.
They were perfect—Lily and James—opposites and equals, and all that romantic shit that he and James had scoffed at for the previous six years of their life. The uncertain lifestyle they in the Order were living only served to highlight how having someone waiting (or fighting by your side as was more often the case with Lily and James), made you stronger, made you conscious of what you were fighting for - made you better.
Who did Sirius have? Pete, he supposed, James - and by extension Lily - but it wasn't the same at all. He knew who he wanted to fight beside, wait for, come home to. But after ninety-four days with zero contact, not a whisper, not a sighting, nothing... It was hard to keep hoping.
For all Sirius knew, Remus was dead.
Pinfold Lane was a pretty place with ancient oaks and tall hedgerows that hid the houses from the road, and from each other. It was about as close as it was possible to get to London and still have a proper front lawn. The area was relatively unchanged since the houses were first built at the turn of the last century.
There was one house however with taller and thicker trees than the rest; they screened it from passing eyes. This house was the original one built on the land in the seventeen-nineties. That is, there used to be. The Muggles of Pinfold Lane hadn't caught a glimpse of number Forty Seven in three years.
Three years ago the owner of number Forty Seven, an eccentric elderly man by the name of Diggle who'd had a love of flamboyant hats, had died. It was rumoured the house had passed to his son.
The locals didn't think much of the younger Diggle's lacking gardening skills. He'd allowed the hedges to become so overgrown the property was completely invisible, strangely, even if one was curious enough to pause and try to peer through the greenery as they passed.
The other residents remembered how Forty Seven used to look; a modest home for its age, the front door opening straight onto the circular drive, with a reasonably large multi-paned window on each side of door - one that looked out from the drawing room and one the dining room. But heaven knew what young Diggle had done to it these days.
Lily Evans peered out the front window of Forty Seven Pinfold Lane; she knew it was a pointless exercise. She'd hear that monstrosity of a bike before she saw it, but that didn't stop her looking for an approaching single headlamp. She bit her thumbnail and took a deep breath; it wouldn't do to play the weak and waiting woman.
"Hey Lily?" called the familiar voice of Dorcas Meadows, "I could do with a hand in here."
Lily turned at once, hurrying into what had once been the dining room in the old Georgian house. Now it was a miniature hospital-cum-potions distillery. Three beds, all thankfully empty at this point, lined up on one wall, opposite them were cabinets full of potions and gauze. The large ornamental fireplace had been put to good use with cauldrons suspended close to the constantly burning flames, drying racks covered in herbs, and indiscriminate animal bits erected from the chimney piece.
Dorcas, a witch in her mid-twenties - who'd thrown in her healer's position at St Mungo's to come and join the Order fulltime a year ago - was leaning over a straight backed chair with padded arms. "Look Dearborn," she said sternly, "I'll never get them out if you don't sit still."
"Fucking ow!" whined the wizard who Dorcas was half-restraining.
"You called?" Lily said to announce herself.
"Lily, great," said Dorcas at once, "Could you pass me that dish and then come and hold this nancy's hand for me?" She tilted her head towards the nearest counter where a stainless steel dish sat, inside it was a frightening looking metal instrument rather like tweezers but much sharper and larger.
Lily gave the dish to Dorcas and then looked at the wizard she was pinning to the chair. He was bare from the waist up, and she only got a brief impression of broad muscled arms and shaggy blond hair before her gaze fell on his mangled shoulder. Sharp spines were poking out of his skin from pectoral to collar bone, like some sort of gruesome pincushion. Lily swallowed and looked back at his face.
His dark blue eyes flickered with pain briefly. "Hiya," he said, hitching his lips up into a grin that morphed into a wince almost at once. "Fuck Cas, that stings like a bitch," he complained as Dorcas attacked him with the maniacal tweezers.
"Can't he have pain potion or something?" Lily asked; that was normally the go-to the minute someone arrived injured.
Dorcas shook her head. Not looking away from her task, the tweezers were flashing as she worked as quickly as she could. "No, Dearborn here has rather unusual blood, it reacts with most potions."
"Unusual?" Lily repeated. The man didn't look out of the ordinary, he was quite decent looking, but she didn't see how blood could affect that.
Dearborn managed another smile in Lily's direction. "My ma had a nasty accident when she was pregnant with me, bit by a werewolf."
"Oh," Lily said, taken aback at the casual way he blurted this out. The only werewolf she knew was a very decent person, but he would never announce it to a stranger. "I'm sorry," she said, "I know lycanthropy is difficult to live with."
Dearborn shook his head. "Only ma got the symptoms – I'm something of a medical miracle, a carrier who can't pass it on because I don't transform. It's been pretty useless until this war came along–" he cut off abruptly as Dorcas pulled one of the sharp spines from the tender skin near his armpit. "Son of abitch," he hissed.
"Sorry Mate," Dorcas said, sounding genuine for the first time. "You really shouldn't talk about your mum like that though."
Lily looked at Dorcas in surprise - the witch was usually pretty no nonsense, and didn't hesitate to cut mouthy wizards down when they needed it - but insulting someone's mum seemed a bit much.
Dearborn didn't seem bothered - on the contrary - he snickered, then caught Lily's eye. "Fifteen years of friendship and this is what I get? It's abuse."
Lily didn't really know what to say, she smiled weakly. "How did you get hurt?" she asked, nodding to his chest, there was fresh blood running from the puncture marks left by the spines Dorcas had already removed.
"I've been in the field for the last two weeks, roughing it a bit," he said vaguely. Lily knew better than to ask for specifics; Order members tended to give out the exact amount of information they were willing to, and no more. "It had all gone fine until I was breaking camp this morning and got on the wrong side of the local knarl population."
"Knarls?" said Lily. She remembered the shy little magical hedgehogs from magical creature's class at Hogwarts. "I didn't know they were aggressive."
Dearborn grinned ruefully. "I'd say most animals get aggressive when you accidently go about your morning ablutions directly over their nest."
"Bloody idiot." Dorcas snorted, but Lily thought she sounded fond more than anything.
It only took another five minutes for Dorcas to pull out the rest of the spines, and Dearborn only whinged a little more, he did swear violently when she swiped smoking purple liquid over the affected area though. But before long, Dearborn had tugged his t-shirt back on and was muttering about vindictive women as he sulked from the medi-room.
It was then that Lily heard the noise she'd been waiting for all evening, a distant rumbling splitting the suburban air.
Sirius and James trundled up the gravel drive to Headquarters in the dark. When the lit windows came into view Sirius waved his wand to get the little garage off to the side to open its double doors. He and James were on duty tonight, which meant sleeping over at Pinfold in case there was an emergency. Lily and her duty partner Marlene - a witch who had been a year ahead of them at Hogwarts - were also on duty. Sirius noticed that James and Lily's night duty often coincided. He wondered if Dumbledore did that on purpose.
Sirius parked his bike, squeezing it in next to Arabella's Mini; the shed had been built in the days when its main function had been housing gardening equipment – rather than motor vehicles. He helped James ease his way out, off balance as he was with a heavy bandaged arm in the narrow space.
They went through the squeaking garden gate and down the paved path at the side of the house, long tendrils of a creeping wisteria dangled down through the overhanging willow tree. They snagged at Sirius's hair as he walked beneath them. At the back of the house was a patch of unkempt lawn and a deep porch. The lawn was currently in danger of encroaching on the back steps and there was more of the wisteria on top of the porch roof, slowly claiming its way across. Sirius thought that soon the plant life would disguise the place completely.
He and James mounted the back steps, and Sirius withdrew his wand and performed the pattern of taps on the back door to prove he was an Order member. Pinfold was under a Fidelius Charm too, but as Mad-Eye intoned at every sodding meeting – constant vigilance.
As it was close to eight in the evening, Headquarters was busy.
Most members worked day jobs – not having the luxury of inherited wealth like James and Sirius to fall back on. Most also had families, so more often than not Headquarters would be quiet until after dinner, when the children were in bed and the adults could check in on their double life.
The back door let into a high-ceilinged hall, there was a narrow staircase leading up to the bedrooms and the room Dumbledore used for one-on-one meetings. On one side of the hall was the kitchen, with its industrial-sized coal range for cooking and feeding twenty plus people when the need arose. Directly to Sirius's left, opposite the kitchen, was the parlour; a room filled with battered sofas and un-matched chairs. The walls were papered with posters of musical groups, and there were at least three dart boards absent of actual darts. There were large corkboards pinned with newspaper cuttings and ministry pamphlets. The occasional Death Eater wanted poster adorned the walls, with its occupant's eyeballs impaled by the misplaced darts, or an idiotic twirly moustache inked on its face.
Lily came hurrying out of the medi-room at the far end of the hall, obviously having heard them arrive. "Jamie," she said, her voice suffused with relief. When she reached them James pulled her into a one-armed hug.
"Sorry we're late," James said at once, "Everyone scattered and the Death Eaters decided to chase us two for some reason."
"Yeah, Benjy and Edgar told me," Lily said, cool and calm as ever. Sirius wondered how she did it sometimes - let her worry and fear break through for only a moment then reign it in completely - he found it very impressive.
Lily was looking at James's bandaged arm. "Is that bad?" she asked.
James shook his head. "Nope, just a break I think. Is Dorcas around?"
"Yeah she's in her room." Lily turned her collected expression on Sirius. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Sirius said, feeling the same gnawing envy in his stomach as he watched the pair. James bent in to kiss Lily softly on the lips before heading down the hall in the direction Lily had come from.
"Good." Lily smiled softly, her gaze following James for a moment. Then suddenly she was all business again. "I was just about to put some stew on since there are a few people floating around tonight. Dumbledore is coming in later too."
Sirius nodded, his stomach growling at the mention of food. "That's good," he said, "I feel like I haven't seen him in a while."
"Same," Lily said and then out of nowhere a huge yawn cracked her jaw. "God sorry," she said, "I'm so bloody tired today."
"Slacker," Sirius said, determinedly trying to be more cheerful. "James and I have been running for our lives this evening, you've been sitting here knitting, should be us that's tired."
"Knitting?" Lily said, starting to laugh. She flicked Sirius's ear with a sharp fingernail and said, "I don't even know how to knit."
Sirius shrugged. "How am I meant to know what you women get up to while we're out fighting the war?"
Lily chuckled, turning towards the kitchen, saying over her shoulder as she went, "I dare you to say that when Dorcas is around."
Sirius laughed too. "Hell no. I like my face the way it is."
Sirius followed Lily into the kitchen. He was not particularly adept at cooking - having been fed by elves for his whole life until three months ago - but stew was pretty much just potion making, so he could help a bit.
He was cubing carrots at one of the long benches when James entered, his bandages had been removed, and he was grinning teasingly at Sirius's domestic servitude.
"Such talent," he said, picking up one of Sirius's tidy little carrot cubes, "and yet you still can't find yourself a man." He tossed the piece of carrot into his mouth and grinned broadly.
Sirius absently flipped him two fingers, shaking his head at the irony, if only James knew. "I pains me daily," he said seriously. "I fear I shall never find someone to defend my honour as Lily does yours."
James snorted and pinched more carrot. "She is a strong and noble champion," he added solemnly. "I pray that she will accept my favour."
"Ridiculous flowery idiots," Lily muttered as she passed from larder to cauldron, holding the skinned leg of a very unfortunate sheep suspiciously like a club. "James, get out of here, we're nearly done, and I don't want your potion's clumsiness rubbing off on Tweedle-Dum there."
"Tweedle what, excuse me?" Sirius asked, pointing a leafy bunch of celery at her in indignation.
"Clumsiness?" James said incredulously.
"Sorry dear." Lily smiled sweetly at James. "Would you prefer incompetence or ineptitude instead?"
James huffed. "Spiteful trollop."
Lily dropped the leg into the cauldron with a subtle lift of her shoulders, she didn't look at all sorry for insulting James.
Sirius supposed that since James was good at literally everything else, picking on him for being complete cauldron-exploding rubbish at potions was probably necessary to keep is easily inflated ego in check.
"Right," Lily said, washing her hands and drying them on a tea towel. "Are you all right to finish this off Sirius? Just chuck all those veggies in there." She nodded at the cauldron.
"Sure," Sirius said.
"Thanks," Lily said gratefully, crossing the room and winding an arm around James's middle. She leaned into him and said, "We're just going up stairs, to er …"
"Shag?" Sirius said, surprised when the intended light-hearted jibe came out sounding bitter. They didn't seem to notice. Lily turned pink, and James laughed as he pulled her from the room.
Sirius looked at the large clock above the fire, their nightshift didn't start 'til ten that evening, and it was only eight. Sirius wished he had someone to shag for an hour and a half. Or for twenty minutes … or five. Hell, right now he'd take a decent kiss.
Celibacy was not something Sirius was particularly good at. Since his first kiss at the age of fourteen he'd never gone this long without some form of romantic human contact. He sliced the celery viciously, trying to channel his aggravation brought on by sexual frustration (or perhaps just flat out loneliness) into the task. It didn't hold his attention for long.
Through the kitchen door and across the hall in the parlour, Sirius could see the rest of the party they had been out with that evening. Benjy Fenwick, Edgar Bones, and Gideon Prewett were all sitting close together talking with a good looking bloke Sirius didn't recognise. Sirius frowned; he thought he'd met all the Order members by now … new ones were always introduced at the meetings. He was sure he'd remember that face, strong jaw, defined cheekbones, tousled blond hair …Sirius felt a sudden jolt in his stomach when he realised he was checking the guy out. That's new, he thought in surprise.
Sirius had been wondering for a whole year now, since he first recognised his crush on Remus for what it was, if it was only Remus, if Sirius was straight, except for Remus. He'd not had the chance to really find out, because since they'd left school his only regular contact had been with James and Pete, and the wrinkly old codger who ran the corner shop down the street from Sirius's flat. None of which being likely to raise his interest. He was still staring into the parlour, his knife suspended over massacred celery when the unknown man lifted his head and noticed him watching.
The man's lips crooked up in a half smile at the attention, and he twitched his eyebrows and flicked his head slightly in a universal male greeting.
To Sirius's intense disquiet he felt a broader smile unfurl on his own face in response, swiftly followed by much warmer cheeks than the cool kitchen required. The man's grin grew.
Guilt bubbled in Sirius's stomach, and he hurriedly broke eye-contact. Fuck. What was he doing? Making eyes at a bloke across the room? A bloke who was likely just being friendly anyway. Sirius must be lonelier than he thought. It's only been three months, he intoned; he didn't need to start seeing flirtation where it didn't exist. Especially not with attractive, broad shouldered older Order members. That was just asking for humiliation.
Sirius scraped the celery into the cauldron, dumped the cutting board and knife in the sink and headed for the back door, pausing only to slosh some whiskey from the liquor cabinet in a glass. He put a cigarette to his lips as he shouldered open the door. He just needed to be alone.
Sirius wasn't sure how long he sat on the porch wall, long enough to smoke three cigarettes and not feel sick, so it was likely close to an hour. Consciously he knew he was acting like a sullen spoilt brat, but that didn't make it easier.
Sirius was used to getting what he wanted, and he'd never wanted anything like he wanted Remus to come back, but of course he couldn't. Sirius missed him so terribly, so continuously that the feeling of longing was always there nudging at him, taking the humour out of jokes, the rest from his sleep and the contenting warmth from his whiskey. The only time it was gone completely was during a fight - a duel with the Dark Lord's followers - it seemed only while he had to focus every particle of his brain on staying alive could he be free of the ache to have Remus there with him.
The creaking of the back door, and a sudden flood of light across the knee-high lawn interrupted Sirius's brooding. Sirius didn't move, the light hadn't reached him, hopefully whoever it was wouldn't even notice him sitting there.
"Black?"
No such luck, Sirius thought grumpily, sighing, he turned. It was the unknown guy who'd smiled at him from the parlour. Sirius felt a fresh rush of embarrassment at having been caught looking in the first place and turned away again. "I'm not on duty 'til ten thirty," he said dully.
"I'm not after you for work, Mate," the man said lightly. "I'm Caradoc," he added as he patted his jacket pockets, he produced a crushed looking pack of cigarettes from an internal pocket. He tapped one free and then raised his eyebrows at Sirius's half burnt smoke.
Sirius held it out to him, and Caradoc leaned in with his cigarette in his mouth and cupped his hands around the glowing end. The edges of each hand rested against Sirius's extended one, they were rough and warm. Caradoc puffed on his cigarette a few times, and the embers where it joined with Sirius's glowed bright in the dark. Sirius wondered why he didn't just use his wand.
"Cheers," Caradoc said, exhaling a stream of smoke and grinning at Sirius. "You're one of the new chaps aren't you? How're you finding it?"
"S'alright," Sirius said, not particularly wanting to make small talk, he just wanted to sulk with his fag in silence.
But Caradoc was not deterred by the cool reception. "You're friends with Potter, and the chubby lad, Petticoat?" he asked, tapping the ash from his smoke on the porch rail.
"Pettigrew," Sirius corrected, feeling the urge to smile at the error despite himself. Poor Pete. Sirius couldn't wait to call him Petticoat.
"Look Mate," Caradoc said seriously, lowering his voice and leaning in a bit closer. "I have a message for you."
Sirius looked at him in surprise. "From who?" he asked warily.
Caradoc took a moment to take a drag on his cigarette, he exhaled slowly, and said in a somewhat loaded voice, "One of our boys in the field." Sirius's heart began to thump. Caradoc was staring into his eyes, willing him to read more into the innocent sentence. "He says, he solemnly swears he's up to no good. He reckons that would mean something to you."
A broken little rush of air forced its way out of Sirius's mouth."Really?" he asked faintly.
Caradoc clapped a firm hand to Sirius's shoulder, and his voice became menacing, "Yeah, he said you'd know how to reply to that." Caradoc was watching him intently; his fingers were tight, almost biting into Sirius's shoulder, the smoke from his cigarette wafted into Sirius's face, making his eyes want to water. Then Sirius realised the wizard's other hand was hidden inside his jacket, no doubt holding a wand.
Suddenly Sirius felt threatened. "A-Ah," he stuttered, "Mischief managed?"
Caradoc relaxed at once. "Ace," he said, removing his hand but staying close. "I haven't talked to him much, I'm the delivery boy." He grinned his handsome smile, all traces of the intimidating persona completely evaporated as it lit his face, before he continued in an undertone. "Potions and food parcels, to keep him in the good books, you know?"
"Oh right," Sirius said, dumbfounded. "He's okay then?" Sirius tried to sound casual, but when he raised his cigarette to his lips there was no hiding his shaking hand. Remus, Sirius thought giddily.
"Seems it, he was waiting for me at the drop off point last week, it's a bit naughty of him but it's not like I'm going to tell Dumbledore." Caradoc took another long drag on his cigarette and looked around surreptitiously before speaking again. "Your mate's taking a pretty big risk for all of us, so bending a rule here and there isn't the end of the world in my opinion." His voice was so quiet that Sirius had to lean in nearer to hear him.
However at that moment the porch door banged open and both Caradoc and Sirius startled guiltily, moving away from each other hastily. Benjy Fenwick poked his head out, looking between the two suspiciously. "There you are, Dumbledore's waiting on your report Caradoc."
"Sure thing," Caradoc replied easily, he stubbed his smoke and tossed it onto the dark lawn then bent in close to Sirius's ear again to whisper, "Find me at The Snitch and Kneazle next Saturday night if you want to send anything back." Then he stepped back and said more loudly, "Nice to meet you Black, thanks for the light."
Sirius stared blankly. "Yeah no, no problem."
His brain seemed to have jammed—Remus was alive—alive and sending messages via fit, flirty field agents. And Sirius could reply, he wasn't going to spend the duration of Remus's assignment wondering if he was dead, or mutilated, or shagging some ruggedly sexy wolf-fellow. Sirius felt dazed, but the hot and cold tingle of relief surging through him had a true smile dawning on his face for the first time in weeks.
Realising he was staring vaguely into space with a burnt-out butt hanging limply between his fingers, Sirius belatedly flicked his fag onto the lawn and followed Benjy and Caradoc back inside. The pair had just started up the staircase, and as Sirius closed the back door quietly behind him he caught the tail end of their conversation.
"Christ Docy, he's fresh out of school!" Benjy was admonishing his friend half-heartedly.
"True." Caradoc laughed, but he shrugged his shoulders and said lightly, "Cute though."
Sirius froze; it was obvious they were talking about him. He was shocked more by the casualness of Caradoc's statement than the content. Sirius had barely come to terms with the fact that he was most definitely attracted to men in general, not just Remus - though obviously it was more than just attraction in Remus's case. Sirius couldn't even imagine telling James about it privately, James who he told everything. And there was this Caradoc, calling him cute where anyone could hear. It was mind boggling.
"Padfoot! Where've you been?" James was suddenly present. "You right mate? You look a bit pale."
"Fine," Sirius said, shaking his concerns over his apparently lacking self-confidence aside to concentrate on the thing that actually mattered; Remus was okay, and had sought him out - not James or Pete - but him. Surely that must mean he still wanted … something.
Sirius threw his arm around James's shoulders, and with sigh that was both from relief, and the new kindling of nerves in his belly at the idea of talking to Remus again, he said, "Prongs, I need a drink."
^V^
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