Gravestones

Rating/Warnings: Rated PG. There's yaoi, and death mentions. Angst, too. Not much really.

A/N: Takes place during sometime between the end of book three and the end of book five...'cuz we all know what happens at the end of book five. glare Also, don't know if Sirius was really disowned, but...still...

Foul Mood. That was the only way to describe it. The only dreadful, bloody awful way to describe it.

"I wish you'd stop brooding." Remus said, examining the night's sky outside one of the many windows of the Black Mansion. "You've been doing nothing by sulk for the last week."

"I want to play Quidditch." Sirius said, pressing into Remus from behind. "Get some air." Remus sighed, leaning back against the taller man.

"You're a wanted convict to both Muggles and wizards, if you remember." Sirius rested his head on Remus' shoulder, not saying anything. Knowing what else was wrong, Remus softly added, "And James isn't here to play with."

The dark-haired marauder sighed, pulling away from Remus. He walked a short, tight circle in the living room, biting one lip. "What was it...that was on his gravestone?" He asked; it was a question that he had asked already, but never wanted to remember.

"Fly on without me." Remus said quietly. Sirius sighed again, and flopped onto the couch, propping his feet up on one of the armrests.

"Yes... He would have wanted that." Sirius replied distantly. "What about Lily's?"

Remus made a face at the window, running his finger randomly through the mist on the glass. "Why don't you go and visit their grave?" Remus suggested, relenting on his earlier decision about his lover wandering around outside. "You weren't at the funeral; you've never even seen the cemetery—"

"I will not." Sirius said harshly, turning to press his face into the couch cushions. "I don't need to see it." Remus combed his hair with his fingers, going to join Sirius on the couch.

"I think you do," He said. "Go at least once, Sirius."

"I...don't want to..."

Remus snuggled in beside Sirius, snaking his arms around his torso. "Why?" The werewolf felt the movement that meant Sirius had sighed again.

"Because then it'd be like they're really dead, and I'm not ready to admit that." "It's been fourteen years..." Sirius shuffled around so that he was facing Remus. "Twelve of them were in Azkaban, were nothing feels, let alone feels real, and the other two were stuck here in this godforsaken house that I thought I'd never seen again."

"Well, you inherited it."

"I shouldn't have." Sirius grumbled. "My aunt thought she was doing me a favor, working me into the will...doesn't she know that it was a happy, happy day when I was disowned?"

"She was being nice."

"A Black?" Sirius snorted into Remus' shirt collar. "I spent all my life trying to get out of here – now that it belongs to the Order, I'm trapped in here again" He ran his hand through Remus' hair, mussing it up. "I want to go home. You still live in the London flat?"

"I still have it." Remus said. "But we can't leave, you know." He gave Sirius a look that said 'especially you.'

"Well...you could go for 'groceries' and I could go on a 'mission'..." He grinned, a spark of his old marauder-self abruptly surfacing Remus smiled.

"I don't think that'd work."

Sirius pretended to think about the scenario seriously. "Well, then you could go on the 'mission', and I could go for 'groceries.' Then we could meet-"

"Sirius."

He trailed off slowly, an impish smile on his face. "Right. Of course. It was just a thought."

"I know you want out of the house, but you can't..."

"Fine, but expect a distraction, then." Sirius grinned at Remus, who fondly rolled his eyes. Sirius kissed him, pushing broody thoughts of the house and of James and Lily momentarily to one side.

For no particular reason, I'd like to say that this new formatting is pissing me off.

Cheers.