Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Sirius is all angles now, elbows jutting out like the point of a knife, the ridges of ribs still far too visible beneath his skin. His hair has been tamed - slightly - but it's still longer than it ever was at Hogwarts, a mess of black ringlets to rival his cousin Bellatrix. He is alert at every noise now, hypervigilant to even the rustle of leaves or a sudden gust of wind; his ears prick up even in human form, and his muscles are tensed like he's ready to run at the slightest provocation.
Remus is a little grayer now, with perpetual bags under his eyes and silver shot through his hair. He is a little softer now, a year's worth of Hogwarts food making up a tiny bit for the physical toll of transforming and the stress of it all.
There is a kindness in Remus's eyes now, from a year's worth of mentoring children - a year's worth of being the father figure he never thought he could be. And there is a hardness behind Sirius's eyes now, from twelve years' worth of hell and darkness.
But their eyes meet, and it is as though nothing has changed at all.
This is their real reunion. Seeing each other in the Shrieking Shack, surrounded by Harry Potter and his friends, on the hunt for the traitor, the coward Wormtail, did not count. They couldn't say everything they wanted to say, not surrounded by children, not with the fire and rage of going after Pettigrew hot in their chests.
It is not that the rage is gone, but with nothing immediate that they can do, it is tempered. There is nothing pressing that can distract them from the fact that they are together. They are alone. Sirius is innocent - and even if the world does not know that yet, the fact that Remus knows it is enough to make his heart leap in a way that it hasn't in years.
They don't speak - not yet, anyway. They crash together in a long-awaited embrace, their lips meeting for the first time in far too long, an old familiarity rejuvenated. Nobody is watching; nobody matters right now but the two of them.
Sirius kisses Remus with the fire of twelve years of solitude burning in his soul, and he thinks, as Remus's hands tangle in his hair, that Remus tastes like freedom.
A/N: Happy Pride Month, here's a little content of my first favorite gay HP ship. If you enjoyed this, consider checking out my story 'like freedom' which is also a short RemusSirius, albeit younger, in a very similar writing style to this. Both pieces stand on their own but go together nicely.
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