One Thing at a Time by Mum-to-You

December 14

The big black dog shook his powerful body and sat down on his haunches. He brought his back leg up and scratched behind his ear as he peered out from the cover of the bramble bushes near the shoreline. Suddenly, he tensed and became alert. A whimper escaped from his throat, and his tail beat a staccato on the ground. His great, hulking frame quivered with such excitement that he could barely sit still.

The man was walking along the beach slowly, carefully, steadying himself with a cane. He was a tall man, lithe and lanky, with intense amber-flecked eyes. The setting sun on the horizon glinted in the grey strands threaded through his sandy brown hair and accentuated the lines of fatigue and early aging in his face. In spite of his infirmity, he moved with a fluid grace. He seemed preoccupied, lost in thought, and he stopped for a moment to gaze up the shoreline with a searching expression.

The dog smothered a yelp and crept out of the brambles on his belly, quietly, stealthily, approaching the man from behind. When he was near enough to the man to smell the chocolate he always carried in his pockets, he darted around to face him. Then, with a bark, he pounced.

His heavy, furred feet hit the man squarely in the chest and knocked him down onto the soft sand. He went down with a breathless grunt and covered his face with his arms to ward off the attack. The dog's tail thumped hard against the man's leg, and he whimpered and nosed his muzzle under the man's arms to get at his face.

"Dammit, Sirius!" the man protested, "You scared the hell out of me! Get off!"

The dog ignored the command and began licking the man's face with his wet, sloppy, sandy tongue. The man struggled with half-hearted gestures and complaints, but when the dog's tongue moved down to his neck, slurping and slobbering, the man began to laugh. It was a deep, throaty, from-the-heart laugh that made the dog bark.

The dog leapt off the man's chest and bounded down the shoreline. By the time he returned with a stick in his toothy mouth, the man was standing, leaning on his cane, ineffectually brushing sand from his clothes. He looked down at the dog with mock severity and muttered, "You big git."

The dog growled and dropped the stick at the man's feet. He barked gleefully and hunkered down with his front feet out and his haunches in the air, tail wagging furiously.

"Bad dog. You are a very, very bad dog," the man said. He spoke to the dog as if he could actually understand what he was saying. "If you think I have any intention whatsoever of playing fetch with you--"

The dog looked up at the man intently and growled.

"Oh, all right, you great prat." The man picked up the stick and hurled it into the surf. "There. Take that."

The dog catapulted himself into the icy sea with abandon. When he returned with the stick, the man was sitting precariously on a large piece of driftwood. He dropped the stick at the man's feet, and then shook his fur vigorously, spraying the man with water.

"Merlin's beard, Padfoot!" the man laughed, wiping his face with his sleeve. "You smell of fish." He looked into the dog's big grey eyes for a moment and sighed. With a resigned air, he made an elaborate show of propping his cane up against the driftwood and methodically adjusting his cloak in a measured, calm manner. Then without warning, he heaved himself at the great canine with a howl, and the two rolled over and over in the sand, the game punctuated by shouts and barks.

They rolled to a stop at the edge of the water. The man lay on his back, panting and breathless, but smiling. The dog nonchalantly climbed up onto the man's chest and sat there looking down into those amber eyes with a doggy grin, as if officially declaring himself the winner. He lowered his head and licked the man right on the lips, then climbed off and sat down beside him.

With a groan, the man pulled himself up to sitting and stroked the dog's head. He put his arms around his ruff and buried his face in the thick, black fur. In his animal mind, the dog sensed that the man needed comforting and company, and so he remained very still, with his muzzle over the man's shoulder. The man sighed heavily, and the dog let out a thin whimper.

After a moment, the man murmured into the fur, "I have missed you so much." There was an ache in the man's voice that echoed across years of loneliness. The dog whimpered again, then pawed at the man's chest, panting heavily in the man's face. "Sirius," the man chortled, "your breath would stun a hippogriff at twenty paces, mate. What have you been eating now?"

On reflex the dog's head shook, and he gave a doggy sneeze. Then he barked and ran a few paces away from the man. He stopped, looked back over his withers, and barked again, as if insisting the man follow. The man got up, took up his cane, and hurried after with the air of someone who wanted to break into a run, but couldn't. The dog bounded ahead with glee, tail wagging.

The man walked up the lane away from the shore and lifted the latch on a gate in front of a small, tidy cottage. Just as he fastened the latch behind him, he was attacked again. This time his assailant was a thin, dark-haired man, who threw his arms around the taller man's neck and his legs around his waist.

"Remus!" the man shouted joyfully, "I'm home!"

"And smelling of fish," Remus added merrily. In spite of his limp, he had barely flinched when the other man leapt on him. There was a wild strength about Remus Lupin that was belied by his frail, slender frame. He embraced the dark-haired man fiercely, as if he were afraid he might get away and never be seen again.

"I am rather disgusting. Sorry about that," Sirius agreed, and he ran a hand over his scraggly beard. "Perhaps a tidy-up would be in order." He seemed light-hearted, but his voice was a hoarse bark.

The two men untangled their limbs and turned to walk into the cottage. Sirius shivered, and Remus draped an arm over his shoulders as they walked to the kitchen door. Once inside, he looked at Sirius with concern, hesitated a moment, and then barraged him with questions. "You're freezing, aren't you? What about your injury? Have you eaten?"

Sirius nodded and rubbed his cold, stiff hands together and nodded. "Comfortably full of rat at the moment, thanks. And the occasional ferret. Greasy buggers, but Bucky is partial to them. And I'm fine. I told you not to worry, Remus." His eyes darted around the room, drinking in the homey comforts. "Nice place you've got here, mate."

Remus smiled. "I make do by myself here. It actually belongs to a friend."

"Really?" asked Sirius, "he must be something to let you have the place."

"He is something indeed," Remus explained, "although just what remains to be discovered." He looked around the room and sniffed. "Judging from the smell, I'd say mostly tuna."

"God, I know. Even Buckbeak gets offended. For the last three days, I've dreamt of nothing but warm, cascading water and that delicious sandalwood soap you use. I think I might have sand mites down me pants, too."

Remus chuckled sympathetically and said, "That must itch terribly." He gestured down the short hallway and added, "Well, off with you then, you malodorous mongrel. You know where everything is. I'll make us some tea while you shower."

"Ooh, I love it when you use big words like that, Moony," Sirius answered with a smirk. He wriggled his eyebrows and added, "Back in a flash."

Sirius made a beeline for bathroom, discarding his disreputable robes and underthings down the hallway. Remus could hear the sound of spraying water over his friend's singing "Hark the Herald Banshees Scream" in a hoarse, but credible baritone. He smiled as he busied himself with the tea things. In all truth, he wondered at his friend's upbeat, jovial mood, speculated that perhaps Sirius was trying too hard. "Ah, well," he thought, "there'll be time enough for that. Let him have a happy homecoming." Remus walked over to the counter for the biscuit tin, and that's when he saw it: a five-pound box of Belgian chocolates sitting next to the sugar bowl. Attached to it was a card that read Happy Christmas, Moony, and the sight of it made him bite his lip to keep from crying.

Sirius took a very long time in the shower. Remus had to reheat the water for the tea three times. Eventually, though, he made an appearance in the sitting room, his shaggy hair dripping, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his emaciated waist. He grinned at Remus and sighed, "Heaven. Absolute heaven. I still can't take that kind of thing for granted." He looked around the room, touched by Remus' meager attempts at holiday decorating. "You've hung up rather a lot of mistletoe, Moony," he noted with another grin.

"Yes," Remus answered, dead-pan, "I think it provides a . . . festive . . . touch." He examined Sirius furtively for injuries and was relieved to see that his recently acquired dog bite really was almost healed. "Tea's ready," he offered. "You go ahead. I just had a romp with some disgusting, smelly dog, so I think I'll shower, too. Don't wait for me." After a pause, he added, "I found the chocolates. Thank you."

Sirius grinned again. "I stopped here first to hide Buckbeak in the shed, then I came looking for you." He wrinkled up his nose and sniffed, then said, "Shite, Lupin, go have a wash. You reek of fish." Remus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He turned, smiling, and walked down the hallway towards the bathroom, stopping to pick up Sirius' scattered clothing on the way.

After a short while, Remus returned to the sitting room wearing a comfortably faded dressing gown knotted loosely about his slender hips. He immediately noticed that the tea things were untouched and that Sirius was nowhere in sight. With a worried expression, he turned back down the hallway to his room in the back of the house to get dressed. As he passed the front bedroom, Remus found him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed staring vacantly out the window. His profile was taut and skeletal, and his eyes had a hunted and haunted look. Remus drew a thumb across his bottom lip and watched him for a few moments, thinking of Sirius' owl from earlier in the summer after his escape. "He was right. He does need everything at once," he reflected sadly, "but I can only give him one thing at a time."

Remus took a deep breath and slipped onto the bed behind Sirius. He draped one arm around his chest to pull him close. He leaned down and asked softly, "If you had to choose, which would you want to do first--eat, sleep, or fuck?"

Sirius leaned his head back on Remus' shoulder and, after a long while, answered, "I have managed to do a fair amount of eating and sleeping, Remus."

There was another lengthy pause in the conversation, but when Remus answered, all he said was, "Well, that's that then." Then he leaned down and kissed Sirius softly on the neck, letting his tongue trace a wet line down his shoulder. Sirius shuddered and gasped aloud. "Turn around, Sirius," Remus demanded. When Sirius did, the hollow, tormented look was gone. Sirius was back under his own skin, and Remus bent down to kiss him.

Thirteen years worth of kisses were exchanged. Tongues licked salt and sandalwood off skin, and hands entwined with damp hair. Bedclothes somehow disarranged themselves, and Remus pressed Sirius to the bed, resting his weight gently on top of him. He burrowed his face into Sirius' neck, reveling in the sensation of Sirius' beard. He hadn't had that thirteen years ago, and Remus rather liked it. His mouth worked its way down Sirius' chest, taking the time to linger over the more sensitive areas, and he remembered them all by heart. By the time he removed the wet towel from around Sirius' waist, there wasn't much left to accomplish.

Sirius yelped. Somewhere in the animal mind that persisted whenever he spent too much time transformed, he was beyond reason. All he knew was that it was wet and warm every place that mattered. His hands gripped the twisted sheets as he willed himself to be still, to make it last, but it was no use. A few quick thrusts and a shriek, and it was over.

Remus wiped his mouth on the sheet and pulled himself up on all fours to look at Sirius. His eyes were closed, and he almost looked like the boy he had once been. Remus leaned down and kissed his eyelids and then his mouth. "Mmm," he noted with a half-smile, "Minty fresh now. I appreciate that."

"Don't thank me too soon, Moony. I had to use your toothbrush," he laughed, then he kissed Remus back and added, "You, on the other hand, now taste . . . like me," Sirius pointed out with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Even better then," Remus murmured as he lay down beside him. Sirius snuggled up to Remus' neck and sighed contentedly. After a moment, he chuckled and said, "Remus, what you need for Christmas is a dog."

"Do you think so? What kind are you getting me?"

"A poodle. Or maybe one of those Bichon whatevers. That seems like you. Or even some really exotic breed, like a Chihuahua."

"Hmm. I've been wanting something like a Black Lab for the longest time, I'll have you know," Remus countered.

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "If you like that sort of thing. Pretty boring, though."

Remus smiled and added, "Well, they aren't known for their intelligence particularly, but they are loyal. That's what I want, a dog that's dumb, but loyal."

Sirius nipped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. "You want to be careful, there, mate. I hear they bite."

"Hmm. So it would seem. I'd better go with the Chihuahua then." Remus snickered at their silliness and held him close. They both fell silent, just enjoying the novel sensation of being in safe arms and of how natural and commonplace this rare and inexplicable moment felt.

About the time Remus decided Sirius had dozed off, he felt warm hands inside his dressing gown. They seemed to be everywhere at once, touching, caressing, exploring. Sirius looked into Remus' golden eyes, and then raised himself up on one arm, tracing little circles on his chest with one finger. "Remus, it's been thirteen years. I would imagine in all that time, there have been others." It was almost a question.

Remus shifted uncomfortably and sighed. "A couple. Nothing worth writing home about," he finally answered. "It was always for the wrong reasons, for either or both of us. And of course, once they found out about my sick mother in Scotland, it was a done deal. You?"

Sirius grew quiet and laid his head on Remus' chest. "Prison is an ugly place, Remus. I've done some things I'm not very proud of."

Remus ran his elegant fingers through Sirius' still wet hair. "Small matter. We can heal from that, too."

"I hope so. I just wanted to be honest. In case it makes a difference."

"It doesn't, Padfoot," he replied in a low, raspy voice.

Sirius raised himself up higher on his arms, kissing the smooth skin on Remus' neck. "Merlin, you even shaved," he murmured, "You always did pay attention to the details." He slid his hand slowly down Remus' chest, noting, memorizing the scars that hadn't been there thirteen years ago. He unknotted the dressing gown, let it fall open, and traced a finger through the soft hair around Remus' navel. He chuckled at his sudden intake of breath. Sirius got to his knees between Remus' legs, running a hand over each thigh, greedy for contact, deliberately moving closer and closer to the place he knew Remus wanted him to touch, but always stopping short.

Suddenly, Remus sat up and shot out a hand to stop him. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know," he said.

"You'd rather I didn't?" Sirius asked, incredulous.

"God," Remus croaked, "do you even have to ask?"

One quick glance told them both that the parts of Remus that hadn't been touched seemed hardly to be aware of that technicality. Sirius hooted with glee and answered, "Guess not, eh?" When he looked up, Remus looked as if he were about to shatter, and Sirius' expression sobered. "I want to more than anything in this world, Moony. Let someone take care of you for a change. Let me take care of you. Quit trying so hard not to need this."

Remus licked his dry lips nervously and nodded. Cautiously, apprehensively, he lowered himself on the bed, propping himself back on his arms, watching. Sirius kissed him below the navel and moved down to take him into his mouth. Remus gasped, arched his back, and collapsed onto the pillow. From that moment, nothing was as important to Sirius as bringing pleasure to this man who had welcomed him home and back into his heart across an unaccountable number of miles and years, and Sirius spared him nothing that might bring delight. It ended with a violent spasm and a feral growl that seemed to echo in the darkening room. Sirius swallowed hard and laid his head on Remus' hip.

Remus inhaled raggedly and looked down at Sirius' dark head. He opened his mouth to speak, to say thank you, say something, say anything, when he heard it. Sirius was crying. Remus wasn't sure what to do. He had known this man since they were eleven years old, had gone to school with him, had lived with him, had loved him. He had seen him eat, sleep, fuck, bleed, laugh, piss, vomit, and shit. All of it. Never though, not once, had he ever known him to cry, much less sob--violent, heart-rending, terrible sobs.

He lightly placed his hand on Sirius' head and stroked his damp, curling hair until the weeping subsided. Then he whispered, "Sirius, are you all right?"

Sirius tilted up his head, and the light reflecting from the nearly full moon glistened on his wet cheeks. He looked at Remus intently for a moment, and then said with a choked voice, "This is what it feels like to love, isn't it? I'd almost forgotten." Then he crawled up to lie down next to Remus with their heads close. He scrutinized every inch of Remus' face, as if trying to memorize everything about it. Then hand outstretched, with one finger, he gently traced the line of a scar from just above his eye down to his chin.

Remus winced visibly. "It's not very pretty, is it?" he asked with an edge of bitterness in his voice.

"You're beautiful, Remus," Sirius countered, "It's not the skin. It's the bones. And the soul." Then he slid his arm behind Remus' neck and pulled him close. Remus buried his nose against Sirius' neck and let himself be held. Sirius looked towards the window and noticed the nearly round moon, just a day shy of full. He made a noise that sounded like a tsk and waved his hand to close the curtain. He dragged his fingers through Remus' hair and whispered, "Poor Moony, you must be exhausted."

Remus' only reply was to kiss him on the shoulder. Sirius straightened out the rumpled bedclothes best he could and pulled the quilt up over Remus' thin shoulders. They lay still together in a tangle of limbs for the longest time, drowsy, serene, safe. Just before dropping off, Sirius thought of something that jolted him awake. Apologetically, softly, he probed, "Moony?"

Remus responded with a muffled murmur against Sirius' chest. Sirius took that as a sign to continue. "This summer, when we wrote each other, we kind of kept saying that we never stopped loving the person that we thought the other had been, right?"

Silence.

"But, for a time at least, we both suspected that the other was the one who might betray Lily and James, and that person that we thought we meant was the one we didn't love anymore. But they didn't really exist because we didn't either one of us really do it. And of course, by the time Crouch sent me to prison, I knew beyond all doubt that Peter had been the one to betray them." He paused to catch his breath before continuing, "But that's not my point."

"You do have one, then?" Remus asked, curious as to where this might be going.

"Of course I do. I always have a point. It's that we both always loved the person we thought the other was originally, and who, as it turns out, we both really were all along. Are you following this?"

He looked down at Remus, who looked back up at him with one eye open and a pained, quizzical expression.

"Well then, that means, logically, that we've really always loved each other, doesn't it?

Remus snorted, then replied, "Your logic is somewhat . . . erm, circular . . . but yes, Sirius, in spite of everything I assumed, I have always loved you."

Sirius smiled to himself in the dark and said, "Good. I'm glad you understood all that, because I wasn't sure it made any sense whatsoever." Sirius held Remus tighter and kissed him on the temple. He was almost asleep when Remus stirred.

"Padfoot?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Mmf," Sirius responded.

"Why did you haul a five-pound box of chocolates all the way from Belgium and then eat rats the whole journey?"

"I happen to find rat-hunting a very satisfying undertaking these days," Sirius answered, only half in jest.

"Tell me why you did it," Remus insisted. "I need to hear you say it."

"Because I love you, Moony."

"Good. I was hoping that was the reason." It was quiet for a few minutes, and then Remus spoke again.

"Sirius?"

"What, Remus?"

"You won't ever leave me again, will you?"

"Over my dead body, Remus. I swear it."