Remus woke with a start. As he opened his eyes, he felt a dagger driving into his brain. He groaned, clutching his head.

His whole body ached. It felt unbearable heavy and aged. His mouth felt dry and his throat scratchy. The comedown after a coke fueled night was never a fun time. Good thing he had a great hangover cure handy.

Oh no.

Flashes of the night were playing in his mind. It was all coming back to him. Fuzzy, with some gaps, but clear enough.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"Fuck!" he yelled into his hands, muffling the sound.

"Good morning, dear," said a prim, feminine voice.

Remus lowered his hands and pried his eyes open, squinting a little against the light. A very well groomed, older woman with slightly pinched features stood above him. Though she was clearly looking at him with undisguised judgment, her eyes also held certain fondness.

"Good morning Mrs Pettigrew," he rasped.

"Peter is in the dining room with breakfast," she offered kindly, taking in his wrinkled outfit from the day before and the dark bags under his eyes. He'd always been a bit of a worry, that one, but he was so polite, even as a teenager. Not like the other boys from their group who were far too loud for her liking. Peter told her he'd been in a horrible accident as a child, so it was hard not to have sympathy.

She walked away as Remus got himself off the living room couch, feeling his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. Someone must have taken his shoes off. He walked slowly in the direction of the dining room, his joints protesting heavily with every step.

When he rounded the corner, he saw Peter dressed in his neatly pressed work robes, sipping on a cup of coffee with a Daily Prophet unfolded in front of him. They always made fun of James and Lily for being so grown up, but he thought in that moment that they really let Peter slide for being basically an old man sometimes.

Peter looked up at him with a very strained smile as Remus sat down in front of the untouched plate that had been set for him. He ignored the food, reaching straight for the coffee.

"What time is it?" he asked Peter.

"About half seven. I'll be off soon, but you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

He nodded. He took a long sip of coffee.

"Why am I in your home?" he asked after a while.

"You don't remember?" Peter asked. Remus shook his head. "How much of last night do you recall?" he inquired uncomfortably.

Remus looked down at the table, the familiar feeling of shame pooling in his gut.

"Most of it. I remember… I know what happened. It all goes dark a little after that, though."

"Oh," said Peter, relieved that he didn't need to explain the worst of it. "Well, you needed help getting home, you were in a bit of a state. Sirius wasn't really up for looking after you, given the circumstances, not to mention he was rather intoxicated himself" he said in that formal way he spoke when he was feeling awkward. "We thought it best you came here."

Remus thought that was an incredibly polite way of saying Sirius wanted him out of his sight. Who could blame him.

Remus sat with Peter until he left for work, but they didn't speak further. Peter seemed nervous in his presence. Overly polite, overly courteous. The way he would speak to a co-worker, not a lifelong friend. That was probably fair. He would have thought it fair if Peter had left him to pass out in a gutter.

He left as soon as Peter did, with a quick thank you to Mrs Pettigrew. He apparated to his flat. Sirius would be at work already. If he was even half as hungover as Remus he would likely be having a miserable day. He knew they didn't have any potions stocked in the flat right now. He wanted to talk to him as soon as possible, to make things right.

After a quick shower and change he collapsed on the couch. There was nothing to do but wait. His headache was starting to shift into a migraine. Even after the shower he was still tense. He'd been so caught up in his anxiety that he almost forgot.

He got up and found his discarded pants, tossed in the laundry basket. He rifled through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. Two little plastic baggies of powder. The white powder was almost gone. Fucking hell, he hadn't realized he'd used so much of it in one night. He briefly considered throwing the rest out but settled on guiltily shoving it in one of his draws.

He also found the remaining third or so of the parchment scroll. He turned it over in his hand carefully. The bottom few items on the list were still visible. They all seemed to be muggle resources. He wondered if there had been any wizarding ones that he had torn away in service of their stupid, stupid little game. The one that stood out to him was a support group at a community center not far from the flat. Madam Pomfrey had specifically noted that it was run by a 'licensed addiction councilor.' He scrunched up the parchment, feeling a stab of anger that was directed at himself as much as the suggestion. He considered throwing it out, but instead he shoved that in the draw as well.

He took the bag of brown powder and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a sheet of foil and a lighter. He couldn't be bothered tracking down his tobacco, and anyway, Sirius wasn't home for ages. Even if he was, he probably hates him now anyway.

As Remus folded over the piece of foil and sprinkled some of the powder on it he felt his breath hitch. He could feel adrenaline starting to flood his body as the full weight of what had happened started to sink in. Sirius probably hated him now and he absolutely fucking deserved it. With shaking hands he grabbed a scrap of paper from the coffee table and rolled it into a straw, then flicked on the lighter and ran it under the foil. As the powder bubbled and evaporated he breathed it in deeply.

He lay back on the couch, already calmer even before the effects had set in. He spent his morning drifting in and out, taking another hit some time around lunch. It was nice not to think. Not to feel. There was going to be a lot of that once Sirius got home. He had no idea what he was going to say or do. How he was going to fix this.

When he heard the sound of the door unlocking, he sat bolt upright, surprised by how quickly time had passed. He hadn't meant to be out that long. He'd intended to clean up a bit before Sirius arrived, but there was no time. At least he had well and truly come down from the high. It was a blessedly much gentler comedown than the cocaine. There's no way he could have coped with what was about to happen with the condition he was in that morning. Sirius deserved for him to stay calm. Not to fall apart on him. He owed him that much.

He stood up as Sirius opened the door. They both froze when their eyes met. Sirius closed the door and turned to face Remus. They both took a few steps towards each other, meeting in the dining area, keeping a distance between each other, standing on either side of the space.

Sirius crossed his arms. Remus shoved his hands in his pockets. Sirius looked on expectantly, his expression tightly controlled but betrayed slightly by a glint of anger in his eyes.

"I'm-" fuck, why didn't he plan this out? "Sirius, I am so sorry. I don't even know what else to say."

Sirius nodded slowly. When he spoke, it was very deliberate. "I think we need to sit down and have an adult conversation. I'm going to keep calm, you're going to keep calm, and we're going to talk." Just like James suggested when they spoke at lunch. "Agreed?"

Remus nodded. Sirius sat down at the table. Remus pulled up the chair across from him. He'd do whatever Sirius asked. Once they were sat, Sirius spoke again.

"First of all, why? What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked in disbelief.

"I wasn't," said Remus quickly. "I was so wasted I didn't even know what I was doing until I'd… until I'd already done it. That's not an excuse. I know it isn't. I fucked up. I'm sorry, I'll do anything to fix it," he said, trying to keep the pleading note out of his voice. It wasn't his goal to make Sirius feel bad for him.

"I was drunk and high too, Remus. I didn't feel the urge to run off to the bathroom with some stranger," he said harshly.

"I didn't go with him. I went alone to do some-" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Some coke. When I came out, he was just there. It's all a bit of a blur. I could barely see at that point, let alone think. Then it was just happening. And I didn't stop it," he finished with a heavy sigh. There was no good explanation. There was no excuse.

Sirius rubbed at his temples and closed his eyes tight for a moment. It was taking everything he had to keep his cool. All he wanted to do was yell and break shit. In fact, that was exactly what he'd done when Remus went to Peter's. He'd repaired to broken plates before work.

"I recognize that you were probably not acting with malice or forethought," he said finally, every word tight and forced like he resented having to concede ground. "You might have been too fucked up to notice, but that guy was a fucking predator. He knew exactly what he was doing."

Remus was visibly relieved to hear Sirius say that, though still obviously anxious. It was true, as much as Sirius hated to offer any kind of excuse for him. He'd seen the way that guy was having to literally hold him upright, the way he looked at Remus like a piece of meat. He was way too sober, calculating. It didn't surprise him to hear that he had followed Remus in there, rather than been invited. It didn't make him feel any better about how enthusiastically his boyfriend was participating. How much he was clearly enjoying it. He wasn't any less furious.

"I'm going to tell you my big concern, the thing that's really been on my mind," he said. Remus nodded, listening intently. "Have you ever done anything like this before? Can you promise it won't happen again?"

That caught Remus off guard. "Of course not! Nothing like this happened before and it will never happen again, I promise," he said emphatically.

"Really? How may nights have you been out without me? How many nights have you not come home? How many nights have you been just as pissed as you were last night? You said it yourself, it's all a blur. You blackout sometimes, I've seen it. Fucking hell, Remus, would you even know?" Sirius finished, standing up as he felt another burst of frustration.

He got up and started pacing a little, trying to keep calm.

Remus just froze. His mind was racing as he turned over Sirius' words. "I don't-" fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Sure, there were plenty of nights he only half remembered. He really never put much thought into figuring out the missing pieces. He was trying to avoid thinking. That was the whole point.

Would he have even remembered last night if it hadn't ended with Sirius breaking some guys nose? The adrenaline and the drama helped make that moment much clearer than the time preceding or following. He'd blacked out soon afterwards. If this guy was a creep, what the hell would have happened if Sirius hadn't even been there?

He very quickly flashed back over the times he'd been at his worst. Long conversations with strangers, time on the dance floor, touches that seemed so insignificant at the time that were suddenly thrown into question. There were instances where he'd gone days at a time without even coming home. Some of those days were just blank spaces, especially when he made the stupid mistake of mixing certain pills with alcohol. He never thought about it, just moved forward to the next drink or pill or whatever. When you stop to think is when it becomes impossible to start moving again.

"Your hesitation on this matter is not filling me with confidence," said Sirius, staring at Remus in shock.

It was a very real concern, but he hadn't expected this. He figured Remus would dismiss the idea without a second thought. Reassure him that it was impossible. He looked at the doubt in his partners eyes and felt his heart flutter painfully. A shot of fear surged through his veins. In that moment if Remus could just tell him with confidence that his worries were unfounded he'd almost be willing to forgive him out of pure relief.

"I don't think-" "You don't think?" "No, I've never done that. I wouldn't," said Remus uncertainly.

"But you did."

Sirius walked away, over to the living space, his back to Remus. Remus stood up and followed, still keeping a cautious distance.

"Sirius-"

"What the fuck is this?" he asked, gesturing at the coffee table.

Remus looked down at where the powder and scorched foil still sat. Fuck fuck fucking fuck. Sirius turned to face him, fury written into every feature. Remus opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the words.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sirius asked, voice rising. "I've been at work all day trying to figure out how to deal with this and you've just been sitting around getting high? What the fuck even is that? More coke? Some other new muggle shit?"

Remus tried to explain but was cut off.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Remus I don't- I can't-" every word was dripping with frustration. Sirius felt any composure he'd managed to maintain slipping out of his grasp. He was surprised to find he was far more sad than he was angry.

"I don't understand you anymore. You keep making these choices and I don't know why. I get it, you've seen some horrible shit. You've done some horrible shit. I can't even imagine what it's like in the packs and what happened to your friend was awful. What happened to your dad. I've been trying so hard to be sympathetic even when you piss me off so much I could just-" he paused. "I watched Edgar die. Two fucking days ago! I walk into the remains of families that have been slaughtered, tortured muggles, witches and wizards disappearing, I deal with this shit for a fucking living! I've never downed a pack of pills and nearly thrown myself off a fucking roof! I don't disappear every night for fucking months at a time! I've never snogged some fucking random at a club and let him put his hand down my pants, and I can say that with absolute fucking certainty! Why are you doing this? Why are you acting like this?"

Sirius was looking at him imploringly, as if he was really, honestly trying to understand. As if he was waiting for a clear answer that would make everything okay. There was moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes as he begged for an explanation. Remus felt his whole body trembling a little, but he kept it together. He wasn't going to fall apart. He wished he had an answer that made sense.

"I don't know. I- I don't know why I'm like this," he said helplessly.

"You don't know?" Sirius repeated indignantly.

"I can stop. I can stop the drinking and the drugs." He could do it. He could make it work. Please, just listen. Please understand.

"It's not about that!" Sirius declared. "Stop blaming all that other stuff. It's you, Remus. You're the problem. You're haven't been Imperiused. Nobody and nothing is forcing you to do the things you do. You're making choices. Fuck, it's not even about the kiss. If you'd come up to me and said 'hey there's this hot guy I want to make out with,' I probably would have had a laugh and said go for it, but you know, keep it above the waist," he said snidely. "As long as you don't fuck them I couldn't give a shit. The point is I can't trust you. It's not like we both don't know you're capable of lying to me. If you're willing to do that when I'm right there with you then what the fuck are you doing when I'm not around?"

Remus just stared. He had no answer. He didn't know how to explain it to Sirius. It sounded so hollow. He had a problem. He wasn't in control. Except Sirius was right. Nobody was forcing him, so why couldn't he just stop?

They looked at each other for a while, just standing there silently, both of them willing the other to find a solution that would make it all better. After a while, Sirius sighed. All of the fight seemed to have left him. How many times was this going to keep happening? Every time it felt like they were finding their footing again something came along and blew it all up.

Sirius wondered how his relationship with Remus had somehow become the most unstable thing in his life.

Remus wondered if he'd finally crossed a line they couldn't come back from.

"I'm going to stay at James' tonight. I'll be back after work tomorrow."

Remus sat at the dining table as Sirius disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back out, he was holding a duffel bag, ready to go. He stopped for a moment, a little calmer than before. He noticed Remus seemed to have shoved down that edge of panic. He seemed almost blank.

"Are you going to be okay alone?" asked Sirius.

Remus looked put off by the question. He knew how much he hated talking about it, Sirius wasn't exactly thrilled either, but he couldn't shake the thought of what had happened the last time they had a fight this big that ended with him walking out. It was the reason he'd made absolutely certain he could keep his shit together before coming home. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes he did after he found out Remus had been lying about the missions.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Do whatever you need to do," he said very quietly.

Sirius nodded, reassured that he seemed calm and in control. A second later he was out the door.

Remus sat until he heard the cracking sound of Sirius apparating away. As soon as he was gone he was up in a flurry of movement. He strode across the room to the coffee table, grabbing the little bag of powder and heading to the kitchen sink. He held it in his trembling hand over the drain, ready to tip it down and then go raid the house for any and all things that could possibly cause intoxication and get rid of them forever.

He was ready. He could do this. He was going to fix it. Sirius was right, he could stop if just wanted to. If he just tried.

So why the fuck wasn't it done already?

He continued to hold the baggie in his hand, not tipping it out. Not getting rid of it.

He clenched it in his fist. Tried counting to three in his head before letting it go.

"Fuck!" he yelled into the empty flat, kicking at the cabinet beneath him and feeling a sharp pain shoot through his foot. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

He headed back to the living room and sat back on the couch, perched tensely right on the edge. He stared intently down at the paraphernalia on the coffee table; heroin still clasped in his fist. He grabbed the foil and tipped out a bit of the powder onto it.

Tomorrow. He could figure it out tomorrow.