Shades of Gray

(the THIRD AND FINAL companion to "No Better Mistake" and "Finding Home")

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, or any other related characters from the world of Harry Potter. I also don't own the setting, plot lines, relationships, etc. ANYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING, not me.

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9

James was gone when they woke up – as always – but he'd left a note: Let's do this again sometime… Cheers, James. Sirius had laughed at it, and shown it to Remus, who, although he was barely awake at the time, chuckled as well. It was much more like Hogwarts than any transformation before it. Sirius had even swiped a bottle of the same bruise-healing paste they'd used the year before from a Healer he knew ("see, Moony, it pays to be charming," he'd told Remus, winking as he dabbed a bit onto his arm). They were both in good shape, only tired, and it was with much grumbling that they said their goodbyes and headed into town that Monday.

A few days later, they were back into their normal routine of work, though Remus was still exhausted. He cast a furtive glance around the street, hiding his wand from view as he tapped the knob of the door of the shop. It was Wednesday, and Wednesday meant a new shipment, which he would have to put away, and unless, by some gracious twist of fate, he was completely alone, he would have to do it the manual way. It is what I get paid for, he reminded himself, quickly turning on the lights with another wave, and then pocketing his wand. Shrugging off his coat, he left it with his other things in the back as he walked up the first flight of the spiraling staircase.

He lit lamps as he went, gathering up the loose volumes in his arms to return them to their rightful place. Large, glossy books on (Muggle) photography, well-disguised charm instructions (bewitched to look like cooking books to non-magical eyes), fairy tales, romances, biographies… the store itself may have been small, but magic did a lot in ways of keeping a huge selection of books. They were small, but popular, probably because Remus didn't mind for people to come in, on cold afternoons, and sit for hours to enjoy a good story. He was friendly and helpful, even on his most tired days, and as a result, things were getting more and more business.

Therefore, it did not surprise him to hear the door chimes go off a floor below. Arms still clutching novels, he extracted a hand to wave downstairs at the smiling young mother, her two young children already bounding up the stairs toward Remus.

"It's much better than buying them a new toy," she told Remus as, she too, reached the top of the stairs, nodding toward her children who were already flopping onto cushions, engrossed in picture books. He grinned, turning back to his shelves and continuing his work. The mother's low voice, coupled with giggles kept the smile on his face as he walked back downstairs, setting books on the steps as he went, making his way to his very familiar spot… maybe he'd just sit down for a few minutes and relax, grab a pen and do this budget…

He hadn't even realized he'd nodded off until Matt was right in front of him, tapping his hand. With a jerk, he sat straight up. "Sorry—oh, it's you," he stopped when he saw who it was, then shook his head. "I mean—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," Matt was laughing at him, and Remus felt himself relax. "You're fine. Mind if I—?" he gestured to the seat before him, and Remus nodded, still trying to get his bearings. "Why are you always so tired, anyway?" he asked.

"I have—trouble sleeping," Remus answered hastily. In a way, this wasn't a complete lie, but Matt still looked suspicious. Hastily, he changed the subject. "How have you been, then?"

"Fine," he said again. Now, he unfastened the buttons of his coat, carefully unwrapping the fine material of a scarf and folding it into a pocket. Not for the first time, Remus shifted uncomfortably before him. Matt's somewhat ripped jeans and flannel shirt looked intentionally casual, instead of sloppy, which was what Remus felt he was in a pair of brown pants, Sirius' favorite t-shirt, and the most comfortable cardigan he owned, stolen from his father many years ago. Matt's glasses made him look intelligent, and not at all nerdy, and Remus couldn't understand how he could look so styled (he was more of the "obvious" sort of flamboyant), and yet not overly done. His curly hair was longer than Remus' (whose slightly waving ends only grew an inch or so past his ears), and yet Remus felt distinctly less groomed. Just the night before, Sirius had plucked out several silver threads from his hair as they'd stood by the sink to brush their teeth. He'd kissed the top of Remus' head after every one… "Silver to go with your golden eyes, Moony, I'd wish you'd keep them…"

His golden eyes – Matt has seen them too. Matt had written about his eyes… and suddenly, Remus felt better. What was he feeling insecure for? He sat up straighter in his seat, smiling.

"Just trying to find a publisher," Matt continued, as if reading Remus' mind. The book—

"Oh… right," said Remus, trying to sound nonchalant. He tried to keep his gaze steady, but it was too late – Matt's eyes had darted to the same place as Remus', and peeking out from underneath the latter's coat was the novel on both of their minds.

Remus had been wondering what if he would say if (or rather, when) he saw Matt again. It would obviously be horridly awkward to admit that he had read, by now, the majority of Matt's words, but at the same time, he couldn't keep "forgetting about it" forever. Now, though, Matt grinned. Remus didn't need to say anything… the crumpled pages and hastily stuck in piece of paper, to mark his place, had said everything for him.

But instead of feeling ashamed, as he surely would have been just a few months ago, Remus folded his arms, maintaining his gaze. So what if Matt knew? What was the point of being embarrassed, after all? Why should he care what the boy thought? He had better things to do – more important things, and if Matt thought he could be confident… well, he would be.

"Well, good luck with that," he said evenly, picking us his pen, smiling, and resuming the work he had already begun.

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He took a breath. Sirius was more nervous than he had anticipated. There was no reason for it; he'd been planning what he was about to do for quite some time, making sure every detail was perfect to the utmost degree… most importantly, that it would be kept a secret. He waved a goodbye to Kevin, and several other young Aurors on the main floor of the Ministry, but instead of turning on the spot and vanishing, as he usually did, he exited, instead, out the visitor exit, emerging in seconds outside on the Muggle streets of London.

It was still freezing, now, a week later, in mid- February, and Sirius reached up to fasten the topmost button of his coat, loosening his tie in the process. His favorite, deep purple tie – the one Remus had given him, back in June, when he'd first begun to work at the Ministry. Remembering this, coupled with the blast of wind pushing his hair from his face, Sirius quickened his step. He was scared, that was for sure, but something inside him told him he wouldn't regret this. Despite his hesitation, Sirius knew… this was something he needed to do.

He walked briskly on for a few more blocks, stopping only to check his watch under a street lamp, and to make sure he was taking the right turns. Now was the moment. Remus had gone to visit his parents for the day, and although he would he home later that evening, there would be plenty of time before that. Stopping at the end of a long street, Sirius gazed up at the small, yellow building on the corner. This was the place. He felt a feeling inside himself, that, despite all his nervousness, he recognized as excitement.

Walking briskly up the stairs, he extracted a hand from his pocket to ring the bell. Ivy crept up on either side of the wrought-iron staircase, meeting the house's walls and crawling up toward the roof. From inside, a dog's sharp barking could be heard, and then, very near, a voice: "hush, be quiet…"

And the door opened, and a face appeared, and then the rest of a body, one arm holding the dog back. A woman.

Her hair was long and golden, her jeans, splattered with paint, looking effortlessly cool. She was very pretty, with clear, bright blue eyes and creamy skin, but the most beautiful thing about her was her smile; and it was perfect, easy, and genuine. And when she spoke, it was with the same, honest happiness: "Hey, Sirius."

"Hey," he echoed, and the woman gestured him in, shutting the door behind him to close all wind from the cool night, and all hesitation from Sirius' mind.

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I'M SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG... The quarter is about to end here and I have a lot of work!

So sorry :(

but... WHAT THE HECK, SIRIUS.