CB: Just a quick note – there be a little bit of smutty stuff in this chapter. ^_~ I know you've all been dying for it…(Thanks to Sona for hassling/helping/threatening me with the smut. Thanks Sona, it couldn't have been written without you!)

'"We all have flaws," he said, "and mine is being wicked."'

- James Thurber, 'The Thirteen Clocks'

Peter yawned as he climbed the spiral staircase to the second floor. Snape trailed after him, bringing a pervading sense of irritation and contempt.

"I know you're not the brightest of people, Pettigrew, but I find it hard to believe that even you could have misplaced someone as loud and obnoxious as Black." The sallow skinned man smiled nastily as Peter, flushing, moved forwards at a slightly quicker pace. "He's not usually difficult to find – you just follow the screams."

"Screams of what, exactly?" Peter snapped, pushed to his limits and actually daring to brave Snape's verbal abuse, even as he reached the top of the stairs and began to walk at break neck speed down the corridor.

"I don't know," Snape raised an eyebrow, his longer legs easily keeping stride with the plump man. "I suppose it depends what mood he's in. Screams of pain are a usual, I've heard." Another nasty smile crossed his face. "Occasionally there are screams of betrayal."

Peter quickly turned a corner, praying Snape would leave him alone before he found Sirius. "Look, push off, will you?"

"Or…" Snape paused, malicious intent in his eyes as he completely ignored Peter, "More often than not, according to rumour, it's because he's busy screwing someone." He sneered and watched the effect of his words with some delight as Peter came to an abrupt stop.

"I don't know where you heard that, Snape, but it's not true."

"Isn't it?" The taller man was enjoying the effect he was having over Peter. "I would beg to differ. What about his little werewolf friend, hmm? The man's despicable, he'll sleep with anything that walks, even something like that." He curled his lip, plainly disgusted, "And he's not known the rabid mongrel that long."

Peter bit his lip, torn between wanting to defend Sirius and wanting to keep a low profile. His hands curling into fists, he turned away. "Just…just fuck off, Snape."

"Brave words." Snape raised an eyebrow, maliciously enjoying the pain he was causing. "I'm surprised you have the backbone to say that to my face without Black to look after you. I mean," He continued, expression turning into one of mock concern, "If you had said that to anyone other than myself, they might not be so…forgiving. Indeed, they might even cause you a great deal of pain and trouble."

Peter, desperately ignoring him, came to a halt in front of the library door. Pushing it open, he winced as the hinges squeaked slightly.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed down warm and comforting through the low windows and in among the high bookshelves. Dust particles flashed like gold as they fell, dancing through the air, and the utter stillness of the room had a pervading air of peace about it. The books, some extremely old, some fairly new, were all arranged neatly, except for the few scattered about and stuffed on the top of others – no doubt where Sirius had just placed them back carelessly, being the only one to ever really venture into the room.

Cautiously, Peter wandered down one of the aisles, hoping against hope that this, finally, was where he would find Sirius. As he turned right (Snape still trailing behind him like a menacing black rain cloud) his ears caught the faint sound of a pen scratching against paper. Moving quietly towards the noise, he peered around the end of a bookshelf and caught sight of Sirius curled up in one of the window seats, busily writing in a worn leather book.

The sunlight caught in the deatheater's hair, surrounding him with a warm light. It played off his face, highlighting cheekbones and showing the dramatic arch of neck and the dip of collarbones, just visible through the open neck of his robe. The worn leather book was clasped loosely in one hand, and resting against his drawn up knees, and the quill in the other was busily flying across the parchment pages.

Peter coughed, and Sirius looked up in surprise, clearly startled.

"Hello, Pete, what brings you in here."

The plump man shrugged. "Lucius asked me to tell you our Lord wishes to see you this evening. He wants to know of your progress with…ah…the werewolf."

"I see." Sirius's face looked slightly grim, but he smiled nonetheless. "Anything else?"

"No," Peter shot a glance over his right shoulder, and Sirius, following his gaze, spotted Snape.

"Good god, what's that greasy git doing here?"

Snape smiled nastily. "Making sure Pettigrew doesn't get lost." He raised an eyebrow, "I'll tell our Lord you're coming then, shall I?"

"If you'd be so kind." Sirius's voice was icy.

Snape nodded and vanished back towards the library door.

"I hate that man," Sirius commented, as soon as he was sure Snape had left. "He makes me feel paranoid." He pulled a sour face and glanced at Peter. "Why did you let him accompany you, anyway? Couldn't you have lost him down a side passage, or better yet killed him and made it look like an accident?"

Peter shrugged, his expression mournful. "I tried everything I could." He said miserably

"Ah well." Sirius's gaze turned back towards the book and Peter, having known him long enough to be able to read his moods as easily as if he was being told, sensed that he wanted to be left alone.

"I'll, er, go and check that the werewolf's still in his room." He said hurriedly.

Sirius nodded absently, but commented: "He's probably still in the garden – that's where I can sense him, anyway."

"Sense him?"

"Mm, our Lord linked him to me so he cannot escape."

Peter shifted slightly. "Oh," He said, wracking his brains for another excuse, "Well…I'll, er, go and see if Goyle needs any help with, um, some of the paperwork or something."

"You do that," Sirius said vaguely, already reaching for his quill again.

Shooting a worried look at his friend, Peter left quietly, taking care to shut the door behind him.

Sirius heard him leave, but his mind was focused on his task. Absent-mindedly running the edge of the quill over his lips, he frowned for a moment in concentration before he began to write once more.

'…Nothing seems to have really changed despite this afternoon's little confession in the garden. I suspect Remus is still going to view me with the same distrust as ever. It makes me wonder, though, why did he even care about where he had seen me? Probably just idle curiosity.

It's nagging at me though. I can't stop wondering about it. He's…damn it, he's such an enigma, I can't read him, I can't tell what he's thinking and that makes me insecure, ME of all people! I've never suffered from a confidence crisis before, why now? I don't know, maybe it's just him; maybe it's a werewolf thing.

Frowning, Sirius put down his quill and closed the diary with a snap. Standing up, he resolved to at least get some rest before he had to meet his Lord.

********

"Ah, Sirius." Voldemort smiled, his expression revealing nothing as he stared up at the deatheater.

"You sent for me, lord." Sirius stood utterly still, his face an emotionless mask.

"Yes." Voldemort's ruby gaze swept over towards where Lucius was standing in one corner. "I wished to talk to you…privately."

Taking the hint, the blond man bowed. "Lord, would you excuse me?"

"Thank you, Lucius."

Two pairs of eyes followed the wizard from the room, then Sirius's snapped back to gaze at his master's face.

"Lupin," Voldemort said abruptly, getting straight to the point, "How are matters progressing?"

"Lord, it hasn't been very long, if you give me more…"

"I did not ask for excuses, Sirius," And the ruby eyes were staring at him again, seeking out his mind, his very soul with their burning, knowing gaze. "How far has he come towards us?"

The deatheater swallowed. "Not very far, lord."

Voldemort smiled again, his hand lazily stroking the snake, which was still wrapped around his chair. "Well, I would have expected better of you, Sirius. You, my best and brightest, you are failing me in this simple task." He leant forwards suddenly, his face intent. "I could always hand this project over to someone like Lucius, or, say, Peter." An eyebrow rose, and he stood up, robes making no sound.

Sirius swallowed. "Forgive me, Lord, but maybe if I knew what you intended to do with Lupin…"

"Ah…" Voldemort stopped a few feet from Sirius, the smile returning, even as his eyes glittered from under the dark fringe of his hair. (1) "But if I told you, you might just let it…slip." His smile turned colder, "And I would regret having to punish you for that."

Sirius swallowed. "Very well my lord, if you think it is for the best."

"I do." Voldemort cut him off with an abrupt turn as he stalked back to his chair. "Suffice to say, I expect to see some improvement soon. He is to be brought over to our side. Do I make myself clear?"

Sirius bowed, his expression grim. "Yes, my lord."

********

Unable to face Remus just yet, Sirius left the main hall and trotted purposefully up to the top of the castle and onto its battlements.

Despite the warmth of earlier, it was still only spring, and the night air was cold and sharp. The stars glinted frostily down from their nest of black velvet, and he shivered slightly, drawing his robe more tightly around his own body. Out in the distance, a fox barked sharply and an owl screeched in reply, its voice echoing across the empty silence of the sleeping world.

Leaning on the parapet, Sirius gazed up at the slither of moon that was just visible amongst the brilliant pinpricks of starlight. It was odd, the moon, he reflected, grey eyes riveted to it; it had always been there, but he'd never really paid that much attention to it before. Shaking his head, he took a couple of steps backwards – eyes still riveted on the sky, and sank down with his back to the stone wall. Hugging his knees to his chest and wrapping his cloak around his body, he continued to stare at both stars and moon until his vision began to blur…

…Only to be woken some two hours later by a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Sirius?"

Sirius blinked dazedly. The new voice was husky, thick with sleep and it was a moment before his fogged mind caught up with his vision and he was able to put a name to a face. "Remus?" He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "What're you…" A yawn "…Doing up here?"

The werewolf's face was pale in the moonlight, skin appearing like living marble, but his eyes were warm pools of amber. "I woke about half an hour ago, and you hadn't come back to the room." He shrugged, gaze skittering away as Sirius stared at him intently. "I was a little…concerned, so I came looking for you."

Sirius nodded, quickly bowing his head to hide the small, pleased smile that crept across his face. "…Thank you."

It was an awkward moment, both unable to think of anything to say, both wanting to say something, particularly in light of the day's events. But the silence stretched between them, growing larger by the second, until Remus coughed, self-consciously.

"Maybe, we should go in," He suggested, "it's rather…er…cold."

As if on cue, Sirius shivered, then scowled as he was shot a softly amused smile. Stretching out a hand, he allowed Remus to help him to his feet, wincing at the stiffness of his back and neck. Sitting on cold, damp stone for over two hours had not done him any favours, he realised. Instead of agreeing to go inside like a normal, sensible person, however, he found that he was shaking his head.

"Wait, let's stay for a moment."

Remus stared at him, his expression unreadable. "Why? It's cold."

"I know." Sirius turned to look at the werewolf, his hand closing around his thin wrist. "But look." He pointed at the stars. "It's beautiful out here."

This earned him a rather surprised look. "I wouldn't have put you as a stargazer, Black." Remus's tone was nonchalant, almost as though he was simply making conversation, but Sirius, turning from looking up at the celestial bodies, found gold eyes looking at him quizzically.

"No, well." Sirius coughed, slightly embarrassed. "It's not a hobby or anything – more like I occasionally just…look at them." He blinked, eyes shining in the pale light.

"Why?" Remus was genuinely puzzled, "What's the point?"

"There's no point, it's just…" Sirius drew an exasperated breath, clearly struggling to find a way to explain it. "Have you ever just stopped and looked at them?" He questioned abruptly.

"What? The stars?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, haven't you ever wanted to just study them and, for a moment, last forever?"

"Nothing can last forever, you know; not even the stars." Remus turned his head away, uncomfortable with Sirius' bright gaze drilling into him.

A small smile curled the Death Eater's lips. "I'm a star."

"And you won't last forever, either," Remus snapped, nerves fraying slightly.

"Why not?" Sirius gripped his chin, forcing him to look around again. "Why can't we all just last forever?"

"Because." Remus closed his eyes, simply to hide himself from that intent look.

"Because?" A small hint of laughter had wormed its way into Sirius's voice.

"Just because."

There was a small pause, Sirius still gripping Remus's chin. Finally, he released him and took a pace backwards. "Would it be so bad…lasting forever, I mean."

Remus opened his eyes, avoiding looking at Sirius. Instead, he tilted his head backwards, eyes looking directly up. From on high, the stars winked at him, like they knew all his secrets. They were, he realised, actually quite beautiful; very beautiful, in fact.

"Would it?" Sirius's voice was soft, but insistent.

Turning, Remus looked at his, eyes wide in his face, a sudden, shocking realisation creeping through him. "No…" He said softly, gaze never leaving his companion's, "…No, it wouldn't."

********

James trudged along the road, his boots cracking the faint film of frost that had begun to cover the grass. His breath whistling out in clouds of steam, he rubbed his hands together, trying to will some warmth back into them.

So, according to the latest witness, the Death Eater had taken Remus this way – an interesting choice of direction.

He frowned and pulled his borrowed muggle jacket tighter around his body, wishing he'd had the foresight to bring his broom or…or…something. It would have beat walking, anyway. Still, at least at this pace, he'd be able to reach the small village by sunrise, and, god willing, someone would give him something to eat. After that, he supposed, he'd have to start asking around, find out if anyone had seen anything odd.

His teeth bared in a ferocious grin, James imagined the look on the nameless Death Eaters face when he was hexed into oblivion for kidnapping the auror's friend. Oh yes, whoever it was, they would pay; it was simply a matter of when and, more importantly, where.

That was the other problem he'd run into. Apart from the village he was steadily making his way towards, there was that much around the area. A couple more villages and a castle – that was about it. So, it seemed unlikely that Remus had been kept around here.

'Probably half way to Australia by now,' James thought, his mood taking a sudden turn for the worst. 'Gods, if only I'd been quicker waking up the next morning or, failing that, checked up on Remus before I went to bed.' Growling, he shook himself. 'Get a grip, Potter, no use wondering about what's already been and done with. Concentrate on the here and now.'

As the sun began to rise, he made his way into the small village, cold, exhausted, hungry and fiercely determined.

The smell of newly baked bread wafted down the street and he followed it, unthinkingly, until he found himself outside a bakers that was bustling with activity.

A woman, brawny and stern faced stuck her head out of the door. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Yes," James straightened his borrowed jacket and shot her a tired smile. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Celia smiled. "Not at all, as long as it won't interfere with my work."

********

Sirius rolled over, burying his face in the pillow with a small groan.

He'd been woken early by the sound of shouting further down the corridor and, when he'd stuck his head outside to see who it was, Snape had been arguing with Lucius in the middle of the hallway. Both men had looked as though they were on the verge of coming to blows until Sirius – with unerring aim – had hit Snape on the back of the head with a thick tome entitled '101 Curious Curses' and had promptly had to slam the door because they had then turned and looked as though they would have liked to have killed him.

And that was partly why he was in his current state of sleeplessness. Perhaps the other thing that had rather a lot to do with it was the fact that on his way back to the comfort and warmth of his bed, he'd spotted Remus, fast asleep.

This was all well and good, of course; after all, just because he, Sirius, had been forced out of his bed by inconsiderate people at the crack of dawn, did not mean that Lupin should be. However, it was the way the man was laying. Arms and legs spread-eagled, head tilted back to expose the slim column of his throat and rumpled covers just slipping down his waist. It had been enough to make his mouth water.

And so here he was, wanting to sleep but unable to do so, because every time he shut his eyes, he had to open them again otherwise visions of the bed clothed Remus danced in front of him.

Cursing, the Death Eater punched the pillow and drew his own bed covers still further around himself. Stupid bloody Snape and stupid bloody Malfoy; all their fault, of course. If it hadn't been for them, he'd still be obliviously asleep. Sighing, he frowned and twisted again, so that he was staring at the ceiling. The shirt that the werewolf still insisted he wear was making him hotter than he liked to admit, so he gave up and kicked the covers down to the end of the bed.

The sudden, cool relief sent a small shiver down his spine, and he smiled in pleasure. Shutting his eyes, he relaxed, muscles finally giving up some of the tension they'd been carrying around since his abrupt awakening.

//The room had become warm again, unbearably so, and he found himself wishing that he'd had the foresight to open a window. His hair was sticking to the back of his neck and he could feel the sheets had been dampened to his skin. His shirt was stuck as well and despite its open collar, he felt trapped, half strangled in it. 'Definitely time to pull it off,' he thought, shifting uncomfortably, tossing his head.

As he was about to sit up, a small trickle of air blew across his skin, causing a small noise of appreciation to escape his lips. 'Maybe someone's opened the window' he thought dreamily. But no, the waft of air was too small for that and too consistent, come to think of it.

He paused, considering, but unwilling to open his eyes, let alone move.' If I did that,' he reasoned, 'I'd simply get hotter. Maybe it is better if I just lie here.' Oh but that breeze was nice though.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was on the opposite side of the room to the window, so the breeze shouldn't be so strong. He also realised two thing simultaneously: that he hadn't heard anyone open the window, and that the soft rushes of air were more like breathing than anything else.

Shifting, he made to sit up, eyes flying open. But before he could do more than move a few inches, a smooth, cool hand had covered his eyes, whilst another pushed him gently back, so he was lying as still as before.

"What…" He began, until the hand that was on his chest moved, placing a finger on his lips instead.

"I want you to be quiet." The voice was low, barely more than another breath of air. "I want you to be quiet, and I want you to hold still." Then the hands and the presence were gone.

"Lupin, where on earth-"

"I said be quiet." The voice murmured, sounding right next to his ear, sending another small gust of cool breath across his shoulder.

Then, shockingly, a cloth slipped over his eyes, so even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't be able to see anything. The mattress shifted slightly, and he gripped the bed sheets closer to himself, feeling inexplicably nervous.

"Modesty?" The voice was low and amused. "An unexpected trait, I must confess."

"Well I wouldn't have cause to be modest," He said, irritably, "If you'd just go back to – oh!" Smooth lips had pressed against his neck, tickling gently as they dragged across his skin. They moved slowly, clearly savouring the feeling. Despite his best efforts, he felt his eyes flutter shut underneath the blindfold, his head tipping just slightly, almost unconsciously, to the side.

"You were protesting," The voice reminded him. The sound of it… he licked his lips, a small whimper building at the back of his throat at the hint of a growl in that tone. The slight rasping of the voice made him shiver, heat tracing fire through his body to pool low in his stomach.

"I…y-you…" He managed as two fingers drew slowly, slowly down his neck, following the path of tendons around to the small hollow where his pulse was hammering. There they rested, lightly moving in tiny circles, sending another shiver racing through his body. The other hand – 'and when had that moved?' he wondered fuzzily – had slid around to the base of his skull, fingers wrapped in thick skeins of hair as he felt his head pulled slowly but inexorably upwards.

A soft, almost gentle kiss was pressed to his brow, just above the line of the blindfold, another came a moment later, on his cheek, before the mouth moved around, pressing a strange, tender kiss to the vulnerable point just behind the lobe of his ear.

"Are you going to carry on arguing?" Calm, amused, gentle.

"No…" He shifted, trying to feel something, anything, other than those hands and that mouth. Cautiously, he stretched out his arms, fingers skittering across smooth cotton as he tried to find the body that should be attached to both objects.

"Ah-ah." A small reprimand, even as hands closed over his wrists, pushing his arms back above his head and into the pillow. "Stay still."

"But I want…" He protested, weakly (and since when had his voice acquired that new, needy tone, he wondered?)

"You always want." Again, amused. "So behave, and you'll get."

Muttering, he subsided slightly, only a small downturn at the corners of his mouth expressing his feeling on the matter.

"And no sulking, either."

Oh, but he was commanding, wasn't he? Another entirely new aspect to this enigma of a person that he'd never even considered. He shifted slightly, careful not to move his hands, and his thigh brushed a warm body…//

"Black!" There was a loud banging on the door, jarring him out of his sleep.

Sitting bolt upright, it took him a moment to realise that he couldn't see a thing. 'No…it can't be…' Cautious fingers reached up, smoothing hesitantly over cloth, before they scrabbled, removing it and flinging it to one side.

Sirius blinked as the light of day streamed into the room and over the startled features of his roommate, who was crouched no more than a few feet away. "Lupin?" The banging on the door continued, he ignored it. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry…" The werewolf shifted slightly, sliding off the bed. "I don't…I can't…" He turned his back, shoulders stiff with tension. "I don't know why I did that."

Sirius drew breath to reply, but the banging on the door had got louder, and the yelling from the other side had escalated. "All right, all right! I'm bloody coming!" He yelled, gaze still riveted to Remus's back., an inexplicable smile creeping across his face.

Staggering giddily out of the bed, he grabbed a robe and pulled it over his head. Striding across the room he pulled Remus forcefully around, kissed him once and then darted out of the room, before the shocked werewolf could register what had happened.

All in all, Sirius decided as he followed Peter down the corridor, it was going to be an interesting day. Suppressing the laugh that threatened to bubble up out of him, he lengthened his stride, catching up with his friend. 'Yes…a very interesting day…'

Back inside the room the two men shared, Remus Lupin stared out of the window, his expression grim.

To Be Continued…

(1) Again, as I think I stated in an earlier chapter, this universe doesn't include Harry, does it? So Voldemort could easily have still maintained his looks. ^_^