"I am going to let our love take over,
as there is nothing better than your heart ruling mine."
-via Parth

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London, May 1979

Sirius only had four favorite places. The first had been his flat. Of course, he'd always been the extroverted type, and his school years had been spent throwing parties in the common room or sneaking to the kitchens with Peter for a snack. He loved going out with his friends and delighting himself in whatever nonsensical whim his puny mind presented to him. But now that he was getting older, and perhaps the weight of their dark world was swaying him, he preferred the privacy of his own, warm, comfortable home. It had all he needed – tea, coffee, his art supplies, his new television set (complements of Lily), and his bed. Not to mention the oh-so-comfortable couch he'd bought from a Muggle furniture store with Remus. Oh. That was what the flat lacked: Remus.

So his next favorite place had been Remus' flat. Yes, it was small, and it had an odd sort of smell to it if you couldn't focus on the wonderful aroma of Remus John Lupin. Yes, Remus had painted the walls an abominable shade of peach to cover up the markings left by the old owner. And yes, the bed was far too small to cavort in – Sirius' main protest – but it had a sweet and lovely Remus written everywhere in it. From the poetry filled bookcases to the old typewriter he'd bought at an antique store – the same antique store he'd now been employed at for over a year. Sirius loved that shabby old flat and the memories that came with it.

The third favorite place had been his old room at the Potter's residence. One would think that he enjoyed Lily and James' apartment in the city with it's pleasant, soft décor and fresh chicken curry on Friday nights. He did, no doubt. It was a joy to visit them whenever he could, which was really any and every day seeing as though he had no form of employment – at the moment! However, his room at Fleamont and Euphemia's manor had been his first sense of privacy. He'd lived his life at Grimmauld in fear, and sharing a room with three other boys definitely had its perks and downfalls. The guestroom they'd converted for him had its own lock, but he'd never needed to use it. It was his.

There'd been plenty of things in his lifetime he could call his own, but not his own room. For that, Sirius would always cherish the first living quarters he'd ever called his.

The final place had only just popped up on his little radar. Remus had stumbled upon it during his lunchbreak weeks ago and had been scoping it out on his way home from work for several days. Sirius hadn't had a chance to visit just yet; his latest painting had been capturing his utmost attention for a span of a week, and since he spent most of his time in training, he'd barely gotten any time to work on it. Alone.

The bar was known as Halfway to Heaven, and, from what Remus had gathered, it was a bar for homosexuals. Sirius, no doubt, was in shock the night Remus had suggested they take a little trip for a drink. It wasn't in him to visit a place that called out your sexuality on a megaphone.

If anyone had eyes and a working brain, they'd figured out that Sirius and Remus were an item. They'd never officially announced it to their friends, and the only people who didn't seem to know, or maybe they didn't care, had been Mad-Eye Moody and Lyall Lupin. Sirius was unsure if he even wanted to loons to know. Even Regulus had agreed to at least try and support it, with much reluctance need you mind. Not the being glaringly gay part; Regulus claimed to have known since they were young. It was the part where he'd dated his best friend that was hard to swallow.

Another fact one many others might have spotted now was that Sirius was without a doubt, absolutely, entirely, unreservedly, unquestionably, one hundred percent gay. Not the one where you were happy, the one where you enjoyed cocks. Not the part where you were cheery and carefree, although he could be on occasion, the type where you liked to take it up the bum with flying colors. He liked men, there was no doubt in his mind about that.

He figured it out his third year in school. Back then, he was further in the closet than his lost corduroy flares. It'd been years since he saw those pants… Besides that, he'd tried his hardest to hide whatever the hell he'd been feeling for Remus, in particular, but also for the boys around him in general.

Sirius hated to admit it, but the entire reason he'd dropped Quidditch was because of the close proximity of all the guys. He didn't mind it on the field; at least then they were clothed. He didn't mind the practices either. It was the showering and the locker room roughhousing that had been the final straw. If he'd gotten caught with a stiffy after a rather attractive, but highly annoying, Ivan Strix had jostled him shirtless, they would've strung him by his testicles from the goalposts.

Sexuality was strange for him in the beginning. Walburga and Orion brought Sirius and his brother up in a strictly Catholic household, believe it or not. At least they had tried. His parents eventually fell off of the church and prayer wagon, only taking note of the bigger holidays like Corpus Christi and Good Friday – the bullshit they used as an excuse to pray for their eldest son. Yet, in his religion, whatever he was – gay, questioning, or even just different – was wrong. He despised himself for it, pushed Remus and others away just to serve some religious justice to himself. Make himself suffer, that sort of angsty crap. But it did no good.

For a year, he cried and prayed, begged and pleaded, for this "sin" to leave him. He didn't want to go to Hell, no matter how often he'd joked that their God hadn't been real. If it meant that he couldn't love Remus, if loving Remus meant he could go to Heaven, he considered it a sacrifice worth making. Then his cousin, Andromeda Tonks, had discussed with him what love and acceptance meant, and it clicked. It didn't matter who he loved, he found out. It was about being a good person. Even if that did seem like a load of feel-good bollocks.

Remus… well, he hadn't made the click just yet. If anyone had been close to the extent of Sirius' closet-case, it had been the Lupin child. Lyall was, no doubt, a conservative man to say the least. He made his opinions on homosexuality very clear, according to Remus. At least Walburga and Orion didn't pay enough attention to Sirius to even notice the signs of his gayness. Lyall, however, kept a close eye on his son for years. Fear of rejection moved them both, but rejection from different idols.

Sirius didn't give a jot if his parents hated him; in fact, they already did, so he might as well enjoy a few high-altitude fucks and romance before they died just to spite them. He didn't think they cared, really. Not much, at least. They would've cared if Regulus, for example, came out as a poof because he was the Golden Child who'd need to produce a proper heir. Sirius could die in a ditch and Walburga might've danced on his grave.

Remus, on the other hand, cared. He cared a great deal. Why did he care? Sirius didn't know, nor could he possibly comprehend his logic. Lyall was cruel and distasteful, making hateful comments about his son every chance he got for the majority of his adolescence. Whether he'd been compensating because he had the intelligence of a sloth, Sirius decided not to comment. But to crave such approval from someone he'd never get it from? That had to be difficult.

But he was getting there. If he at least admitted he liked Sirius, liked the way their relationship worked, then that was good enough for now. Sooner or later, he'd have to admit he was something. Maybe he wasn't gay. He sure as hell wasn't straight, Sirius knew that much. Maybe he was something in between?

So, when he'd suggested they go to a place like Halfway to Heaven, it came as a bit of shellshock to Sirius. It'd been a display of confidence in his sexuality; a way to broadcast it, even if only to strangers. He was shy, no doubt, and a bit nervous on the way. He kept adjusting his clothes, wearing them thin and worrying himself gray, and Sirius could only watch as he, too, was tense.

He'd never been to a gay bar before. Would it be like any other bar, only with gay men? Would the men hit on him? Would they hit on Remus? That thought made his toes curl with expectancy and caution. Remus wasn't good at telling people no; just look at the Julienne fiasco he'd gotten himself into during their fourth year. Sirius didn't want to spend the entire night fending off perverts; he wanted to enjoy his time with his lover. His boyfriend. His Remus. This was supposed to take the edge off from their relentless schedules, not induce territorial madness.

Remus apparated them about a block away from the bar, deep in an alleyway behind a clump of trashcans. Sirius stumbled, not used to his latest addition to his footwear. He'd been wearing heels for a year, but he'd never apparated in them. Damn it, he nearly broke his fucking ankle!

"When we go home, I'm riding on your back," he warned Remus.

"You chose the shoe, love," he pointed out, a small smile present on his tinted face.

"Yes," Sirius shrugged half-heartedly, running his fingers through feathered hair, "because fashion is a must, darling. We can't go in looking like mongrels."

Remus pressed his lips to Sirius' forehead, calming his nerves without even realizing it, "I suppose that's why you bought me this lovely outfit. I look like a mongrel?"

"A bit."

"Bugger off," Remus laughed, making a move to stride away, but Sirius held him back.

He pulled him by his new jacket, fisting the frays in his hands, and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, probably from all the chapstick he applied before they left his flat, and Remus melted into him. Kissing in dirty alleyways hadn't always been on Sirius' to-do list, but in a moment like this, he couldn't have cared less. Remus' hands snaked underneath the fabric of his polo, sending tremors up Sirius' spine in a way only he could do. A moan, masked by a gasp, escaped Sirius' lips as he carded his fingers through tawny locks.

If he could, he would've stayed there all night. Stealing kisses like this, ones in alleyways or behind the cabinet in his antique shop, were the best. They were hungry and raw, unadulterated and needy. Even if they were wrinkling Remus' brand new shirt, and there would surely be nail marks on his back by morning, Sirius wanted this.

Remus let his tongue slip into Sirius' mouth, the sensation racking through their bodies at light speeds. Sirius felt it sliding against his own, their lips clashing against one another in the moist April air. It was agonizing being so close; his hair would frizz and he would get sweat spots, but who the fuck cared about all of that.

It was a phenomenal kiss. But, then again, all the kisses he and Remus shared were just that. Astounding. Cinema like. Lewd and coarse in the best of ways. The type no prince and princess would ever share on-screen or in writing. There was no purity or elegance about whatever passed between them. It was obscene and erotic, and Sirius found himself nearly collapsing at the feeling. For years, they'd spent their time touching each other experimentally, scared to push boundaries and dip toes in freezing water. Finally, after the delay to kill a turtle, they were there.

They were there – Sirius on his tiptoes to catch the warmth of Sirius' lips, feel the roughness of his tongue against his own, revel in the feeling of his hardened palms rubbing that sweet spot just above his arse. They were nearly fastened to one another, chests pressed so firmly together that their heartbeats crashed against one another, their lungs imploring for more air. This hadn't been on Sirius' to-do list; a single snog was all he wanted. He hadn't planned on anything more. But seeing Remus like that – cheeks pink and eyes wide with want and longing – it did things to Sirius psyche.

He felt his hands studying places no person should explore in an alleyway in London. Everywhere. From his chest to his stomach, reaching around and gripping the firmness of his arse to elicit a soft moan of pure ecstasy. As for Remus, he'd managed to slip his hands beneath the waistband of his spare flares – how? Sirius had no earthly clue – and massaged. They were in a scandalous position, tongues down each other's throats and hands in their pants.

Remus must've realized this, untangling himself from Sirius' body and straightening his clothes. Sirius groaned, missing the contact already, but knowing that they needed to get going before they drew any unwanted attention.

"Gods, Sirius," Remus mumbled, raking his now tossed hair out of his face with frustration. "Do you want to give me a hard-on before we enter a gay bar?"

Sirius blanched; he hadn't thought of that. He let his eyes wander down, resting on the tight spot in Remus' crotch. The outline of him was pressing against the khaki fabric. Sirius' mouth went dry, the ability to breathe fleeing his body. Perhaps this outing hadn't been the best idea; they could've done something much more productive, like painting and writing, done at his flat. If they'd gotten hard-ons at least they could've been handled in the privacy of his sitting room. Now, here they were, horny in an alleyway in London with a gay bar awaiting them only a block away.

Why didn't he think these things through?

"Come on," Remus said, adjusting his chinos before striding toward the main street.

Sirius didn't want to "come on." He wanted to grab Remus by the arm and apparate home so that they could relieve the evident sexual tension, but he wouldn't be getting his way. They'd put off this outing long enough; he'd denied Remus this long enough. He deserved a moment of peace. They all did.

Grabbing ahold of his hand, Sirius meandered beside Remus with a blank stare. His thoughts trailed to other things, things that should really not be printed on paper. In a way, these erotic thoughts made him feel like a teenager again – unable to control any fiber of desire and want at the slightest brush of Remus' body. It had been months since he'd felt this on fire; he usually did a fair enough job at keeping the sex demons at bay. What had made tonight such a challenge was beyond him.

He chanced a peek at Remus, noting how composed the man looked despite the feat in front of them and the debacle behind them. Remus was always good in stressful situations. He managed himself well in the face of anxiety, and he always knew what to say. If he'd been ruffled by their session in the alley, he didn't show it. At least, his face didn't. Every so often, Sirius let himself smile at the thought of Remus hiding himself in the midst of a hundred or so gay men.

The entrance to Halfway to Heaven was bright and colorful, yet lewd and dark at the same time. There were bright neon lights of all colors pointing to the entrance guarded by a broad bouncer. The windows, once letting in lots of natural sunlight and happy faces, were covered top to bottom with bawdy posters and sensual propaganda that would've made God cry. Those waiting in line didn't seem to mind, however. They chatted with one another mindlessly, excited about their upcoming night or complaining about the wait.

"How long do you think we'll have to wait," Sirius asked as they made their way to the end of the line.

"Just a bit, love," Remus reassured, tightening his grasp on Sirius' hand. "Just a bit."

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Sirius watched in awe as a very intoxicated Remus danced in the midst of the crowd. Stevie Nicks had been playing over the speakers, the hum of the guitar just below her belted notes and drum keeping rhythm. That was one thing Remus had whilst he drank – rhythm. Any other time, it'd be like asking a sloth to keep up with the Bee Gees. Then, after his third drink (he was such a lightweight), he thrashed his and flailed his arms as Stevie sang her latest hit: Dreams.

Remus wasn't even a fan of Fleetwood Mac; that was the amusing part. He was a fan of the hard stuff such as rock and metal; Patti Smith and Aerosmith type of guy, which came as a surprise to anyone who'd only known Remus for such a short time. Many thought the roles would be switched. Sirius could get into those artists, though he was a fan of people like Stevie, for instance. Lily had gotten him attached to ABBA in the months they'd been visiting one another. Lay All Your Love On Me had been his current favorite. Don't get him wrong. Janis Joplin was his all-time idol with her raspy, bellowed notes. She struck a chord within him.

Remus let a lazy smile take hold of his face, eyes begging to open up long enough to catch a glimpse of an amused looking Sirius at the bar. He sipped his whiskey gingerly, however, preferring to watch the beautiful sight of Remus, for once, being the carefree boy he'd never gotten to be.

That wasn't completely true. Their youth was spent under invisibility cloaks and discovering secret passageways in the castle. He coordinated their tricks and schemes, and if he hadn't been burdened by the weight of Prefect duties, Sirius could bet he'd have been in detention just as much as the other three. Now that they were older with more freedom than ever, minus the suffocating wrath of Moody and Lyall, they did plenty of "fun" things. Like going out to Halfway to Heaven. Perhaps it wasn't the fact that they'd gone out and enjoyed the perks of adulthood. Maybe it had been the way he smiled, bobbing his head to the beat of the drums, without a doubt in his mind.

"Sirius?"

A voice managed to break through the ruckus of the bar, and Sirius turned to catch them. He blinked once, shocked by the person that stood before him. Benjy Fenwick – the one with the sticky fingers and twitchy disposition – smirked at him. Sirius hadn't really noticed Benjy in the months they'd spent together; all he knew was that the kid had the habit of acquiring things that weren't his. Benjy was also a class A smart-ass, one that endlessly annoyed Sirius even when he'd been across the room.

"Benjy," Sirius grimaced, forcing the smallest of smiles. "What a lovely surprise."

Benjy all but chuckled, leaning against the countertop lazily.

"Don't strain yourself, Black," he snickered. "You're a sight for sore eyes in this pub."

Sirius took an indolent sip from his glass, "I only wish I could give the same sentiments."

Sirius doubted Benjy took his displeasure genuinely; Benjy hardly ever took anything seriously. Maybe his pilfering and pandering, but nothing worth note ever caught his attention. It really showed Sirius how much he'd grown over the years. There was a time he and Benjy were similar – foolish and immature, carried only by the notion of living in the moment and never thinking a step ahead. Now, he thought, they couldn't be different. Of course, Sirius wasn't as tactful as James, nor was he as thorough as his lover, but at least he wasn't a toddler like Benjy.

He even looked like one; Benjy was no taller than five foot five with dark, nearly black, buzzed hair and hooded brown eyes. His skin was naturally tanned and golden, rich and smooth to the touch. His nose had been pierced some time ago – a Muggle thing according to Lily – and he'd gotten some tattoos over the years that school robes hid. It was as if old age hadn't even considered dipping its toe into the pool of naïveté and simple wonder of Benjy Fenwick; he hadn't aged one fucking bit.

Some part of Sirius envied this trait. The other was thankful that he at least looked his age. Benjy hardly looked old enough to drive, let alone enter an adult's bar. Sirius briefly considered alerting the bouncer of a reckless teen that snuck in but threw out the idea just in case it encouraged the moron to pit pocket him at the next meeting.

"Where's Remus," Benjy asked. "You two are usually conjoined at the hip."

"He isn't far."

Sirius wished to remain vague. If there'd been a whore in the world, it was Benjy. He had quite the reputation at Hogwarts. The arithmetic section of the library had always been the area to flock to if you wanted a bit of privacy; no one went back there. That little nugget of knowledge had been spread by the little prick himself after sleeping with nearly thirteen people back there. The Marauders refused to study arithmetic just so they didn't have to venture into the unknown. The books were probably fucked on, and Sirius didn't want to touch such dirtied resources any more than he wanted to see the act itself.

"For someone who's at one of the best bars in London, you've sure got your knickers in a bunch," Benjy teased. "And for someone who gets to watch a guy like Remus shake his little arse on the dancefloor, you sure are sour."

Sirius' face darkened, "And for someone with the body of a pint-sized Rockette, you sure do test my patience."

Benjy threw his hands up defensively, "Woah, Black, I'm just stating the facts here. Remus has got a great –"

Sirius slammed down his drink, turning to face Benjy entirely, "I'm well aware of what Remus has got, and I don't need you to list it all off for me. Bugger off, would you? I'm trying to take in the view."

This type of reaction must've been a regular occurrence for Benjy because he clearly hadn't been intimidated in the slightest by Sirius' warning. The smirk stayed present, a taunting glint in his eyes, and he ordered a drink without a glance at Sirius.

With frazzled nerves, Sirius shuffled onto the dance floor towards Remus, hoping that he'd be able to take his edge off with his cheery dancing and laughter. Patti Smith blasted above the dance floor, Remus nearly jerking his head off as he bounced on his heels. Sirius let his hands snake around his waist, their hips swaying and chests rubbing.

"Where've you been," Remus shouted, his voice hardly audible over the music.

"Socializing like the butterfly I am," Sirius replied, pressing his lips to Remus' collarbone affectionately. "Where've you been?"

Out of breath, Remus settled on his feet and glanced down at Sirius with glassy, amber eyes, "I've been dancing my arse off in hopes you'd notice me instead of flirting with Benjy."

There was no bite to his voice, just mild amusement. They both knew that Benjy was the last person on earth Sirius would ever flirt with; his entire attitude, the promiscuity and loose-lipped sarcasm would only ever fly with his Marauders, and anyone else who tried would be promptly ignored. Besides, Sirius enjoyed being his femme little self with Remus, enjoyed being scooped up by the giant and his rough hands. He loved being babied and cuddled every night; being the little spoon was a full-time job. Benjy was far too small and far too annoying to ever fit the bill.

"Poor lad, your efforts were in vain," Sirius moaned. "Benjy has swept me off my feet, and we must run away –"

Remus quieted Sirius with the touch of his lips, his hands roaming to the feathered curls that were falling every minute in the heat of the club. This kiss was different from the one in the alleyway; it was soft and sensual. Slurred and lazy. Remus managed to bite Sirius' bottom lip, tempting him in such a scandalous way it couldn't have been legal. Sirius liked this Remus, liked the way he wasn't afraid of prying eyes. He liked the way he let his hands wander without hesitation, knowing every dip and curve of Sirius' body already like the back of his own hand. He liked this Remus – free and wild.

Remus pulled away, lips swollen and wet, "Let's go back to your flat."

Sirius, already feeling the tightness in his pants, nodded frantically, "With pleasure."

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Hello, hello! How is everyone doing!? Update: I got a septum piercing and nearly got kicked out of my house again but it was so worth it! I love doing makeup and such, and it really just tied my looks together. But on to more pressing matters.

So, bad news. I go back to uni in four days. I know. I'm literally so depressed about it. I've promised myself I'd make more time to study despite having really good grades last semester. I nearly failed math, but somehow ended up going from a D to a B in the last month, and I don't ever want to put myself under such circumstances again. I also work every day (Work-study because I'm poooor!) and I can usually write then as long as people aren't being nosey and I don't have to do contact cards (I work for the admissions center at my college, and I usually have to enter prospective students info into the system or pack tour bags or some stupid shit like that).

Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter. I promise that I'm not forcing myself to write smut, it was just that kind of chapter. I personally love Benjy and he only had like a sixteenth of chapter time. He's just so edgy lmao. We'll see more of him in the future, don't worry. I'm also going to start implementing other members of the Order in now that we're getting closer to the end of Mischief Managed. I'm projecting, at most, fifteen more chapters. Give or take a few. Just depends on my level of self-control and overindulgence really. Then the SEQUEL!

Speaking of, really quick, I think I'm going to make an alternate ending for those who don't want to read a second, shorter book. I understand that this book is already HELLA long, and some people just don't want that kind of commitment. I understand. So there will be a happy ending and an angsty cliffhanger that leads into what I think I'm going to call Obliviate. Maybe. I don't know yet. I suck at book names.

Lamp Light Reader: Can I just say how waking up to your review this morning put the biggest smile on my face? Both of them, actually! REGULUS IS MY BABY AND ANY SLANDER WILL NOT BE TOLERATED! Both of the Black brothers are fashionable and fabulous. I think that this story does really well without the smut because they both have such in-depth romantic thoughts about each other. Another reader says they can mentally insert moments of intimacy, and I hope others can do the same. Thank you for your understanding and support. I don't know why I have such an aversion to really detailed smut. It's just really odd for me and gives me awful second-hand embarrassment. As for my loss, thank you so much. That's really sweet of you to be compassionate for someone you've never met. It's gotten easier over the years, but I know that my mom would be hella proud of me for not only writing but by supporting, advocating, and representing the LGBTQ+ community (she was gay). I'm so glad you enjoy my writing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it wasn't cringey : )

Yellow Woman on the Brink: You don't know how this made me tear up the other morning. Like, I love that you guys comment while I'm asleep so I can wake up to such kind messages. It means the world to me. I'm sorry you're dealing with fuckshit, no one deserves to but I guess it's just how this cruel world works. I'm sending my love and support! I'm glad I communicate intimacy very well through thoughts and small gestures; most of my relationships have been online (ew cringe, I know) so I'm very good at articulating romance through words and little things. I hope I can get more comfortable in the future, but I know this story's focal point isn't their sexual tension or sensual moments (such as the moments in this chapter lmao). I'm going to try and respond to reviews as much as possible because I want you all to know that I read what you say and take it very seriously. You guys are like crack for me, in the best of ways. Your support and love make me so happy and inspired, motivated and such, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you all. The generational divide? I sort of base that off of my family. My mother adopted me when she was older, and most of my relatives are older as well. So I know how generational gaps work (I live with my 95-year-old grandmother who nearly collapsed when I came home with my nose pierced the other night). It's a very real thing I think most stories forget about. They're young and reckless and it'll all come crashing down soon… very soon. : (

Thank you guys so much for everything. Please be on the lookout for one more chapter before I head back. Much, much love.

Always,

Nic.