Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had said, and even though Sirius had only left his home two weeks before, Remus went there immediately. And not a moment too soon, it seemed, because Sirius was already making his presence known, stomping through the halls like a great angry monster.

"I hate this place," he said, without preamble or even the semblance of a greeting. "Bloody haven for the Dark Arts."

"Well, that's where I'll be of service," Remus said quietly. "It's a noble thing you're doing, you know. For the Order."

"Well, this is the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Sirius muttered, gesturing vaguely to a tapestry on the wall. Then he turned, looked at Remus for the first time, and smiled. "Hello, Remus."

"Hello, Sirius." It was almost as if they hadn't seen each other in years, he thought vaguely. "You look awful."

"Can't have changed that much in two weeks, can I? Besides, youdon't look much better." He eyed Remus' graying hair. "They make potions for that, you know."

Lupin looked down at his threadbare robes, wondering how Sirius could possibly assume he had money to spend on his appearance. It honestly wasn't worth the effort to argue, though, not now. "So you've been here all alone, then?"

"I have," Sirius replied quietly, in a tone Remus hadn't heard in years. Not since seventh year, in fact, when Lily had finally returned James' affections, and James had unwittingly shut Sirius out in the cold, and Remus had been there to comfort him. "Remus…"

The word had barely died on his lips, and already Remus knew what was coming next. "Because you're lonely, Sirius?"

"No. Because I love you."

That was all it took. That was all it had ever taken, really, because he loved Sirius so deeply that he could never express it in words beyond "I love you," and he allowed himself the illusion that the same held true for Sirius. Remus wasn't James, never would be—but it had never been Sirius and James, not the way it had been Sirius and Remus. And now that James was dead, and Peter had betrayed them all, it was still Sirius and Remus, just like it had always been, only not at all like it had always been.

"I know he's not coming back," Sirius said, in response to the question Remus hadn't dared to ask. "I know. And I can handle that. Just so long as you're coming back, Remus."

Remus blinked. "I'll always come back. I just didn't know it meant so much to you."

And he hadn't known, because Sirius had always cared more for James. Everyone had cared more for James, except for Remus, who'd loved Sirius, devoted himself heart and soul to Sirius, but had never believed that Sirius could do the same.

But Sirius could do the same, and if that wasn't evident in his touch, it was in his words. "You think I'm still waiting for something better?" he asked, and then laughed softly. "I'm not, Remus. How could I, when all I've ever wanted is standing right in front of me?"

"You always wanted more time."

"And you always waited for me, didn't you? You always waited for me to come around."

Remus nodded. "And you always did."

"And you always hoped that I wouldn't have to," he murmured, brushing his knuckles lightly over Remus's cheekbone. "I shouldn't have had to come around. I should have been here all along."

And in the instant that their lips touched, it all changed. Gone was the neediness, the heartache, the bittersweet aftertaste. Gone were the thoughts of others, the worries that this might not happen again. It was Sirius and Remus, just like it had always been, only not at all like it had always been.

It was better.