When Harry goes to bed, Remus' tangled anxieties return with a vengeance. He tries to read but that lasts for about two minutes. He feels a sort of restlessness he usually associates with the full moon, a compulsion to move. He does something he hasn't done in years, scrounging up an old unopened box of cigarettes from the back of a drawer and heading out to the garden.

It's only just gone 8 o'clock, the sun is still a ways from setting. Everything around Remus has gone into shades of rose and gold. He walks until he comes up against a crumbling stone wall about 30 paces from the house. He sits on the slightly precarious top and swings his long legs over so he's facing out, looking over the fields and into the dark forest beyond.

Unwrapping the packet of cigarettes and pulling one out is more soothing than it should be. He hasn't had a smoke in just over a year, it's a habit he tried to drop when he got Harry. He still never smokes around the little boy, and he knows he should kick it entirely, but he feels like something has to give right now and it might as well be this. He takes a drag and shrugs his shoulders a few times. He's seeking the peace he felt earlier in the day, when Sirius was asleep on his chest and everything seemed warm and right, but he can't quite find it.

Remus has been wearing the same shirt all day. Sirius' scent lingers on him. Remus has been trying very hard to ignore that for the last few hours. Now that he's letting his guard down a little, though, it's all he can smell. He's always had a hard time putting his experience of scent into words. He doesn't remember what it's like to smell things the way "normal" humans do, so he's not sure how to compare it.

Remus inhales deeply, and tries to identify the emotions that rise up when Sirius' scent hits him again. The first thing he thinks is that the wolf in the back of his brain is basically purring.

This image makes him snort with laughter. He's enough out of practice smoking that this sets him coughing for a few moments. He steadies himself on the wall and tilts his head back, staring at the sky and letting his cigarette burn down between his fingers.

"What are you doing?" he whispers to himself.

He's been trying to be careful, hasn't he? He's doing the best he can to help Sirius. He's given him a place to stay. He thinks he's doing a good job. This afternoon felt like a breakthrough. When Remus left to pick up Harry, Sirius had been looking a little bit more like himself. He'd been shy and quiet, admittedly, but he'd been lounging across the couch rather than folded in on himself. When he'd met Remus' eyes, it felt like whatever wall had been between them was gone.

Surely part of helping Sirius heal is giving him space and time. Remus doesn't want to burden Sirius with any responsibilities or expectations, apart from the obvious need to be good with Harry. He has told himself since Sirius went to trial that this is all tangled up enough already. Winding up in bed together would only complicate things more.

Remus inhales again, smells Sirius and lets himself feel the ache of longing that scent sets off. Part of it's a deep physical longing, of course it is, but there's more to it. Sirius' scent hits Remus and the wolf registers several different things. It thinks Padfoot. Friend. Pack.

It thinks Home.

Remus starts to push the wolf away, uncomfortable with its yearning, but stops himself. That's something he did often as a younger man, denying that part of himself, trusting nothing the wolf did or wanted. What that ultimately led to was not trusting himself at all, and then not trusting Sirius. In the intervening years, he has at least learned that the wolf is easier to live with if he lets it have its say.

It's easiest, he knows, when he takes down the false barriers he puts up between himself and the wolf, when he admits it's just him in there. But that means looking his own fear and loneliness in the face and owning it. That means dealing with the pain instead of gritting his teeth and ignoring it. It means… well, what, right now? He doesn't know how to be honest with Sirius about what he wants without asking too much of him. He's terrified of overwhelming him and scaring him away.

He takes another drag on that cigarette as his elevated senses pick up the sound of Sirius inside, walking down the stairs. He recognizes this thought pattern, too - don't upset Sirius, conceal and ignore difficult things, patch it up when the time is right and things are easier. He knows where that led, before, when all of the time he thought they had disappeared. He can't do that again. Honesty it is, then.

He stays still, waiting for Sirius to find him. A light goes on in the kitchen, there's the rustle of a package, Sirius finding something to snack on after missing out on dinner. Quiet for a moment while he eats. Remus inhales again, wondering if he can figure out what it is. He can catch Sirius' scent - freshened, he must have showered - but can't quite make out the food.

A few moments pass in quiet and then the back door opens and closes gently. Sirius walks towards him. There's a slight smell of grass as he crushes delicate leaves underfoot. He's barefoot, somewhat to Remus' surprise.

"Hey," Sirius says quietly.

Remus looks back over his shoulder. "Hey."

Sirius smiles a little, though there's some worry in his gathered brow. He glances at the carton of cigarettes on the wall.

"Didn't think you still smoked."

"I don't. Want one?"

"Mm."

Remus tosses the box and Sirius slides one out. He settles back against Remus' wall, though he stays on the other side, facing the house. He rolls the cigarette between his fingers for a moment, examining it casually, before bringing it to his lips. He pauses and sighes, an exasperated sound, apparently remembering he has no way to light it.

Before he can ask, Remus snaps his fingers and the end of the cigarette flares with light. Sirius jumps, eyes widening in surprise.

"Smooth," he says, grinning and looking at Remus with curiosity. "Where'd you pick that up?"

Remus just returns the smile as Sirius takes a drag. Smoking was something he learned from Sirius back in school, something they shared that James couldn't stand, a good excuse to huddle together in doorways and on balconies and talk.

Sirius closes his eyes now, mingled relief and pleasure in his expression as he inhales. The evening sunlight is warm and rosy on his face, the hand holding the cigarette has that old effortless grace. Remus looks away and remembers years of looking away and pretending he didn't have an all-consuming crush on his best friend. That had fooled exactly no one, and he guesses he's being roughly as convincing now.

"Did I know you could do that?" Sirius asks. Remus glances over and Sirius is frowning at his cigarette. "I'm… I think my memory's a bit… shaky."

"Oh. No, you didn't, that's more… recent. It's a wolf thing."

"Lighting cigarettes?"

"Wandless work. At least I should have an affinity for it, cause of the… wolf thing."

"Really?"

Remus nods. "Apparently, yeah. I mean, I was never any good at it in school, you're remembering that correctly. But when I was - eh - trying to work with the packs during the war, there were a few members who insisted it was a strength of theirs, that like… I don't know, something about werewolves having this innate power. I thought it was all Greyback's nonsense, but…"

He snaps his fingers again but holds the heat close this time, generating a small flame that he toys with between his thumb and pointer. He flicks it skyward and it shoots upwards, flaring out like a tiny comet. Sirius watches, eyebrows raised, impressed.

Remus shrugs, blushing a little, aware he's showing off. "I didn't really try much wandless stuff out until Harry was with me. Think I just got a little desperate for shortcuts with a toddler around," he says, smiling a little. "It's helpful with him, sometimes, the wolf stuff."

"Like what?"

"I mean, I'm never sure what's just parenting instinct and what's… not normal," Remus mutters slightly. "I feel like I know if he's getting close to danger even if I'm not there, but Molly's described that, too, with her kids. I'm fairly sure she can't hear their heart beats across the room and use that knowledge to head off a tantrum, though."

"Fairly safe bet," Sirius agrees.

"Fairly, yes."

Remus looks at Sirius, curious. The ability to hear heartbeats was one Remus hadn't told anyone about until he was 20. He'd only done it then because the two of them were fighting and the contrast between Sirius' anxiously pounding heart and bored expression had made Remus think he was lying about something. Clearly Sirius remembers that ability now, so where are the breaks in his memory?

"Can I… What did you mean? About your memory."

Sirius shrugs uncomfortably and takes another drag on his cigarette. "I don't know," he mutters. "I think I'm pretty good up to that last... year, roughly. I mean, I remember some things really vividly cause, you know, the - they made me fucking relive them every - um…"

There are shadows gathering in Sirius' eyes. Remus wants to take his hand, but the one closest to him is currently occupied with the cigarette.

"You're okay, Pads," he says quietly.

Sirius takes a deep breath and looks at the sky. He doesn't quite acknowledge that Remus said anything, but he seems able to gather himself, and keeps speaking.

"I do remember that I was wasted half the time," he says a little bitterly. "Maybe that's all it is, just browning out. Though that, um… Do you not drink?" he asks in a slight rush.

Remus frowns in thought before speaking. He'd been wondering when this would come up.

"No," he says, shaking his head a little. "Realized I couldn't handle it. It was hard, but I'm a better parent without it. I'm sorry if you, um… I did feel like I should have offered you something a few times, but I don't really like having it around."

This is a significant oversimplification of his relationship with sobriety. He doesn't quite look at Sirius as he waits for him to respond.

"It's fine, Moons," he says quietly.

This gentle, affectionate use of his nickname makes Remus' stomach swoop. He glances sideways. That wasn't the response he expected.

Sirius shrugs, looking a little self conscious, and waves a hand to indicate himself. "Not a fan of alcoholic parents," he mumbles. "Not that you'd have ever been like that, obviously, just… I understand..."

They look at each other, shared memories of Sirius' difficult childhood suddenly summoned around them. Sirius looks away first, paling with an emotion Remus can't quite identify. They're quiet for a few moments, both working on their cigarettes.

"I am right, though?" Sirius says after a while. "It was all just awful?"

Remus sighs and stubs out his cigarette. "I mean, I don't exactly have good memories from that last year, either. Is that what you're trying to pull up? I remember a couple afternoons at the Potters, like Harry's birthday, where we all kinda played pretend for a few hours, but even that was… Those aren't exactly happy memories."

Sirius looks down, face still and unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Remus says gently. "I know that's not exactly comforting, but I… I don't think you're missing anything. Was there something you thought should be there?"

Sirius screws up his face a little, blinking, but he manages to speak.

"I don't know, maybe a... moment when I was a decent fucking person?" he says with a harsh, humorless laugh. He shakes his head when Remus makes to speak, and continues. "The… in there, the dementors, they make you think about the worst things, right?" he says. "And for me, obviously, that's one thing, and they made me go fucking over and over and over that… But once the like, I don't know, once the shock of that wore off a bit, they… moved on to other things." He swallows a little thickly and shakes his head like he's clearing it. Remus grips his own arms to stop himself reaching out, he doesn't want to interrupt.

"And the other bad things were mostly in that last year," Sirius continues. "Not that my mother didn't make some guest appearances... But for the most part it was fights where we lost Fay and Gid, Marlene… Or, like… Regulus," he says quietly. "But also constantly fucking laying into you. Just tearing you down like that was the mission, instead of… Fuck. Just-"

"No, it's-"

"I was so awful," Sirius manages, voice slightly strangled. He looks sideways at Remus and there are tears glittering in his eyes. "I was so horrible to you."

Remus suddenly can't speak around the lump in his throat. He doesn't know what to do with the knowledge that, for Sirius, the pain of the ways they wounded each other is so terrible that it ranks just below the pain of losing their friends.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," he whispers. "I don't… I don't know why I… got like that."

"I wasn't better," Remus says shakily.

They look at each other for a long time, staring across the short space that separates them. Sirius' eyes are wide, his expression flickers between hurt and pleading. Remus can hear his heart pounding.

"Sirius, we… we were kids thrown into a war," Remus says quietly. "We'd been at war our entire adult lives and we just… broke. It-we… Fuck," he sighs. "That sounds like excusing my own behavior, too, I'm not, I'm just… I'm sorry, too, Sirius. I was…" He looks at his own shaking hands and forces himself to keep speaking.

"Pads, I was so scared," Remus continues, voice breaking, finally admitting something he never said then. "The whole time. Everyone was dying. You were - you were always in so much danger - I thought I was gonna lose you. I think part of me figured if I - if I shoved you away before that happened, it wouldn't hurt as much."

He looks to Sirius and finds him shaking visibly. He's wrapped his arms around himself and ducked his chin nearly to his chest. His cigarette is smoldering out in the grass. He looks on the verge of bolting, so Remus moves slowly. He pulls his legs up and turns himself around so he's facing the same way Sirius is, sitting on the same side of the wall. He presses at his own face, willing his tears back down.

"I can't believe you're here," Remus says quietly. "I don't… Sirius, I don't have words for what it felt like for me, losing you like that. It was like… like you hadn't existed at all. Like nothing had been real."

When Sirius speaks, Remus almost can't hear him.

"Forgive me."

Remus doesn't know which part he's asking forgiveness for, but he realizes in the same moment that it doesn't matter at all. He doesn't care about guilt and fault. This is something he can do.

"Forgiven," he offers back.

Sirius inhales sharply, almost as though he's been struck. He's still staring at the ground.

"Fuck, I don't… Fuck," he gasps. Remus reaches for him but Sirius draws back. He steps away from the wall, and spins back to face Remus, looking almost angry, his right hand raised and pointing at Remus' chest. "Fuck, I don't deserve-"

"You deserve forgive-"

"-you," Sirius finishes. "I don't deserve you and your - your fucking otherwordly loyalty, Remus! How can you - How am I supposed to-"

Remus feels his face flush. "I just-"

"How can you stand to look at me let alone-"

"I love you."

That stops Sirius' pained words. He freezes, staring wide eyed into Remus' face. Remus returns his gaze, his own heart thudding. He isn't sure he meant to say that, but he's chosen honesty, and this has always been true.

"I love you," he says again. "I've loved you since we were 15 years old, Sirius Black, that's how."

The words hang in the air for a long moment as Sirius slowly lowers the hand raised between them. He takes a sudden, shaky breath. Remus doesn't dare move. He's still listening to the other man's heart; it's pounding so hard he's worried he'll faint.

"Pads," Remus says a little weakly, afraid he's gone too far.

Sirius blinks. His eyes refocus and meet Remus' again.

"Remus," he says slowly, voice ragged. "I'm a mess. I'm..."

Remus shrugs and finds a gentle smile. "So am I. You can't scare me off. You never could."

Sirius stares at him and Remus feels his smile fade. He lowers his eyes to the ground.

"Sirius, if… if what you need from me is friendship, I can do that," he says, meaning it. "Happily."

Sirius frowns, shakes his head. "That's not - What do you want?"

Remus's power of speech leaves, but he knows his answer is written all over his face as he raises his head to look at Sirius again. He sees his longing reflected in Sirius' expression and loses his breath.

Sirius closes the space between them with two steps. He pulls Remus up off the wall by the front of his shirt and kisses him. Hard.

Every nerve in Remus' body crackles. His hands go into Sirius' hair, holding him there. He kisses back, reckless and desperate. Fierce joy burns in his chest and he finds answers to Sirius' question.

What do you want?

More, Remus thinks.

This, he thinks.

You.