Comfort
By Ex-Professor Remus Lupin
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Comfort can be found in many places. Remus/Sirius and mentions of Remus/Tonks
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Author's Note: This came to me one cold, lonely, winter night. I realize that I just like writing stuff to depress myself and I hope my readers.
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He returned to the flat that night, shaken and frighteningly alone. He made tea; standing in the kitchen in his robes, covered in what he expected was the blood of some faceless Death Eater that he had killed. It had been a clean death, but one that had ended up being at his own hands rather than at wand point. His brown hair was a tangle of brambles and grass, falling into his amber eyes as he stood at the window watching the sunrise and hoping.

Just as the sun had taken his final steps into full glory above the horizon, lighting the many roofs of London, he heard the door open. He didn't move, no matter how much he wanted to and instead continued to watch the sun, sipping the cold tea. Listening, he heard the sound of a cloak sliding from shoulders and the heavy sighs of a person who had been forced to do something they hadn't wanted to do.

"You finally cast the spell," he said as the kitchen door swished open and booted feet crossed the kitchen floor. "You're there Secret Keeper?"

Somehow, the words didn't bring as much comfort as they should have, but the warm arms that wrapped around his waist did. He leaned back into the touch, eyes closing as soft lips pressed into the nape of his neck.

"Yes," the words were heavy, laced with exhaustion. It had been a hard fight and none of those involved had left unscarred. He himself still had a silver induced knife wound to deal with.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly as long fingers caressed his hip. He fought for a moment, but twitched in the other man's grasp, wanting more even now.

"Come to bed," this time, the words were spoken in a low, almost husky tone.

Turning around, amber eyes met gray for just a moment before he was pulled forward into a searing kiss. Setting aside his teacup, he pressed eagerly forward, hip against hip, shoulder to shoulder, and thigh to thigh. A dull ache started up his body as he was pulled forward, almost stumbling into the other room.

"I missed you," he gasped as they stumbled into the darkened bedroom. Curtains pulled over the windows to block the sun. His answer was a soft groan as he was pushed down onto the mattress.

Moments later, any thoughts of saying something, had faded into nothingness.

For a week it stayed this way, until finally, the night before Halloween, they stumbled into bed, tearing at each other, whispering apologies and I love yous. The next day, he woke to cold sheets. It wouldn't be until the next day that he would understand. Even then, it still didn't make any sense.

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During the years after, the sheets stayed cold. However, others took his place, all of them, with long dark hair. Sometimes the eyes would match, sometimes not. If that were the case, he would close his eyes and try to forget, hating himself for holding onto something he could never have again.

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Twelve years after they had last shared a bed, Remus found himself pulling Sirius to his feet and pulling him into his arms. It had been too long for the embrace to mean anything beyond I missed you and welcome back. Later, as events unfolded, he would look at him.

"Shall we kill him together?" Sirius' voice was laced with uncertainty and gray eyes vulnerable.

"I think so," he answered and with a nod, they had lifted wands together on the one person both had though trustworthy.

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A year had passed since they had last come together and then been torn apart, they sat uneasily at a small table in a tiny London flat. Remus drinking tea while Sirius played with a wooden napkin ring. He had been sent here by Dumbledore to lie low. "You could have written," Remus said finally, setting down his teacup.

"I didn't know what to say," was the soft answer, the voice still the same beneath so many years of torture and silence.

"Anything," he said carefully.

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered brokenly, hands clenching into fists and gray eyes filling with tears. It was heartbreaking to watch the strong person that had once sat at this table flicking sugar cubes at him while he tried to read the Daily Prophet, reduced to the broken man before him.

"Don't," Remus had said, reaching across the table and taking both hands in his own. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate being like this," was the broken reply, long fingers, too thin and brittle, clutched his like a lifeline. The distance remained and the sheets on the left side of the bed were still cold in the morning when he slept on the floor in the living room hiding away as Padfoot.

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When they had come to Grimmauld Place, it had been uneasy those first few days, cleaning out and making the place livable while Order members came and went, helping sometimes when they could or just staying to keep them from growing weary of each other's presence.

They were aware of the other now, almost like before. The touches, innocent and short at first, soon changed to something more. A comforting hand became searching fingers, a reassuring smile into a searing kiss. By the time Halloween had come around, they had fallen once more, harder and deeper than before, clinging to each other as a lifeline. Warm sheets were always there as a comfort when a warm body could not be found.

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Now, the bed was cold on the other side. The fall had taken him away, leaving him alone once more. Sometimes, another body took the empty place, offering comfort and taking what little they could when no real affection could be returned. She seemed willing to have what little of himself he could offer. He hated her for that sometime. During times like this though, her features turned to the aristocratic looks that all members of the Black family possessed and vibrant bubblegum colored hair faded to black.

He took some cold comfort in hating himself for that.

-Author's Note: I swear I get some sick pleasure out of writing crap like this.