Disclaimer: I do not own any characters created by J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since my last update! I've had loads of commissions and just celebrated my birthday on the 4th so I've barely had a moment to myself!

Chapter Forty

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Harry lurched awake, covered in sweat and panting heavily. The faint smell of sulphur was lingering around his nose, but the fire in his grate hadn't been lit for the last month or so. Calming his breathing, echoes of his dream -or perhaps they were memories -resurfaced through the panic he felt. He clenched his fists around the duvet, a draught bringing his skin out in goosepimples. Curling in on himself, he tried to ignore the way his blood roared in his ears. It was suddenly very reminiscent of a certain Hungarian Horntail …

He lurched again, feeling sick to his stomach.

Clutching his middle, he hunched over, pressing his forehead to his knees and tried to calm himself down. He felt his hands shaking. What were they all thinking, letting him go through the tournament at fourteen? Granted the name-choosing was 'binding', however it also said in the rules that all participants had to be of age. Which he hadn't been! Surely that cancelled out all other obligations?

'Just my luck though,' he thought bitterly. 'Always getting shafted. And Ron had the gall to be pissed as me as if I'd willingly choose any of that!'

Rubbing at his eyes, he glanced at his bedside table for his wand and cast 'Tempus'. It was 7:08am.

With a groan, he flopped back down onto the bed. He felt too wide awake to get comfortable again, but he didn't have the energy to do anything else either. Faint images from the Quidditch world cup, seeing the Dark Mark for the first time, and the first task clashed and blended together behind his eyelids, forcing a migraine to bloom. He grimaced and pressed his fingers into his temples. There had been a lot of mixed feelings about the memories, but he was doing his best to separate things. When he'd last written to Hermione, just before Draco's birthday, he had asked her how he was supposed to cope with all these seemingly unanswered questions that kept popping up. Her advice, as always he noted fondly, was to make a record of it.

So, he had.

Shifting into an upright position, he dug out his notebook from his bedside drawer, smiling when the orb floating in his room shone a little brighter. As he turned the pages, Hermione's words came to the forefront of his mind.

'A lot of these new memories will bring new questions, Harry, but you have to remember that a lot of these will answer themselves once you start to remember more. Don't worry about not having all the answers, that's what we're all here for.'

Her letter had been reassuringly empathetic and pragmatic, a truly unique 'Hermione' blend.

As he flicked through the pages, he put his glasses on and grabbed a biro -he was coming to realise just how much he loathed writing with quills -and chewed on his lip thoughtfully as he read through some of the questions and thoughts he'd written down a week or so prior.

Who was the man at the Quidditch world cup who cast the Dark Mark?

Why had there been Death Eaters at the QWC?

Draco's dad is a Death Eater? Had he been there too?

Why is Mad-Eye Moody so helpful to me in learning the summoning charm?

Is Mad-Eye qualified to be a teacher?

Why did I tell Cedric about the dragons?

Well, the answer to the last one was simple enough. He could remember sneaking off into the forest under his invisibility cloak as Hagrid met up with Madame Maxine. He'd felt bad that Cedric may have been the only contestant out of the four of them to have no idea about what they were supposed to face in the first task.

At the memory of Cedric's chiselled jawline, his light brown hair swept over his wide, bright eyes, Harry felt a stirring in shorts. Had he had a crush on Cedric? He had certainly looked up to the older boy … was there something about a bath? He itched his ear against his shoulder, almost as if someone had whispered against it. Biting his tongue, he swiftly wrote in the book.

Why did Cedric tell me about the prefect's bathroom? Did we go there together? Why?

Somehow just writing down the question made him feel guilty about Cho. He remembered having a huge crush on her, getting flustered and clumsy whenever she looked at him, walked near him or even when she talked to him in passing. It all just made him a great soppy mess!

Realistically, he would have had more of a chance asking Cho out than Cedric. On the one hand, he wasn't sure just how Hogwart's would have reacted, as a whole, to gay students or … whatever he was. Whatever his feelings at the time had been, he definitely appreciated how brave, honest and strong Cedric had been, but it was easily overshadowed by what he had felt, at the time, for Cho.

Now, those feelings were muted in comparison to his over-whelming crush on Draco.

He could admit it now, that he had a crush on the older boy.

Leaning back against his pillows, he looked out across the room without really seeing it. He'd gotten the golden egg, and he remembered being dropped on his arse at the Gryffindor victory party later that night. Had that been the night he'd snuck off to meet with Cedric in the prefect's bathroom? He felt as though something was touching the fringes of his mind, teasing him with a bathtub as deep as a pool –

Creak.

His head snapped up, his ears straining against the heavy silence. Was someone awake? Another creak told him that, yes, someone was awake and trying to be quiet as they navigated the hallway through the dark. Reaching out for his wand, Harry adjusted his glasses on his nose and slid silently out of his bed.

Opening his door, he slipped out onto the dark landing and strained his ears, hoping to hear the direction the person had gone in. Another creak sounded from the staircase above him. Heart thumping in his ears, Harry tiptoed the stairs and swiftly hopped up them, taking care to avoid all the creaky floorboards. He knew every floorboard that creaked, having spent practically every day indoors.

He paused on the second floor landing. Was he bitter about that? Perhaps, but only because he couldn't really go outside because of his current age. It would have been nice to have more damn freedom, too. The logical part of his brain reasoned that a) it was for his own good, and b) it was still better than the first ten years of his life at the Dursely's.

Creak.

Resuming his mission, Harry continued to follow the creaking until he came to the third floor landing just in time to see a door close down the hallway. Muttering a soft 'lumos' he held his wand aloft and tried not to feel spooked as he made his way towards the door. It was only as his hand grasped the cold doorknob that fear spiked through his chest. Perhaps this was a bad idea? Maybe he should run back to his room, or to wake up Sirius and Remus?

'Don't be such a flobberworm!' he scowled through the darkness. 'Are you a Gryffindor, or aren't you?'

Turning the doorknob, he pushed the door open, wand aloft.

The room was stark and empty except for a few stacked boxes and a bookcase crammed with old leatherbound tomes gathering dust in the far corner. The curtains were drawn back, giving a clear view of the moon and stars. Slumped on the opposite wall sat Sirius, a leg cocked up with his arm draped across it, his dark curls falling in front of his face and a far-off look in his eyes. He didn't have his wand with him. Had he been sleep walking?

"Sirius?" he whispered.

Blinking back to reality, Sirius turned to look at the door. "Oh," he said. "Hello Harry. It's a little late for you to be up and about."

"I could say the same thing to you," Harry said quietly as he closed the door and crossed the room to sit beside Sirius. "How comes you're up here?"

"I suppose I've been finding it hard to sleep properly the last week or so," came the sighed reply.

Harry frowned into the gloom. He watched dust motes dance in the shafts of moonlight. The wall they were leaning against had peeling wallpaper, clearly one of the rooms that was used for storing old pureblood heirlooms and tat, and the floorboards were uneven and felt a little rough against his legs. Sparing the room another glance, Harry couldn't understand why Sirius had picked this room to come into. There were no personal touches of any kind.

Sirius' eyes had drifted closed. He wasn't sleeping, Harry could tell by his breathing that he was still awake, but he had tipped his head to lean against the wall even more, everything about him exuded an aura of defeat.

Harry murmured a soft 'nox' extinguishing the light. The moonlight was enough. He twirled his wand around in his fingers, letting the silence wash over him.

"I've done a lot of things wrong in my life, Harry," Sirius' voice made him jolt. Even though it was barely above a whisper, it sounded like fireworks in the still, quiet room. "I can't help thinking I should have tried harder to stop you de-aging yourself."

Harry felt his shoulders slump, "I'm not too sure how you would have managed. I seem to be pretty headstrong when I get set on an idea."

"Hm," Sirius' eyelids fluttered open, his glassy gaze staring straight ahead. "I do know that your mother would have skinned me alive. Done everything in her power to make you the right age again. I suppose I was foolish enough to believe I could be a good dad to you."

"You've been a great dad!" Harry gushed, his hand darting out and gripping Sirius'. "I honestly don't know how I would have coped without you!"

"That's just it, Harry. You didn't want to cope," Sirius grunted, pressing his fingers into his eyes and grimacing. "I just … I feel like I should have tried harder."

Harry bowed his head, feeling ashamed.

"We'd only just started to get settled in. For two months, we all worked tirelessly to make this place liveable after the war. It was only when things slowed down that you started to struggle again. You needed the distraction …"

"I must have gone through some horrible stuff … to want to run away from it for about a year …" Harry frowned down at his lap. "How is it going to get any better?"

Sirius tilted his head, looking down at the teenager beside him. "I can only hope this year long reprieve from the worst of the aftermath will help you deal with it properly once you're the right age again."

Biting down on his lip, Harry shifted closer and tentatively laid his head on his godfather's shoulder. "I'm sorry to have burdened you with all this," he breathed. "You had enough on your plate looking after Draco and Remus and Teddy … I shouldn't have added to it. I just … I don't know how to feel and that scares the crap out of me!" He raked a hand through his hair. "It's like -like my body knows to be scared or upset or happy, but to me it all feels like it happened to somebody else."

"It's a side-effect of the de-aging process. Makes you feel like you're watching a documentary rather than replaying your own life."

"Am I …" Harry chewed on his lip and bowed his head. "Am I a bad person for feeling this way?"

"No, you're not, son," Sirius assured, his tone quiet and calm. "Things will adjust again once you've aged completely."

Harry sighed again, "I really am sorry for putting you in this position …"

"What's done is done," Sirius placated. "Besides, it's not like we haven't managed to enjoy this, is it? I've loved watching you grow-up. I never got a chance to. This is like a dream come true for me, despite how underprepared I was."

Offering a wan smile, Harry cuddled closer, the familiar scent of Sirius making him relax. They settled into a comfortable silence, the two of them leaning against one another and watching as the moon slowly crept across the sky. As they sat there, lost in the quiet, Harry's mind was working overtime. This still didn't answer the question as to why Sirius was sat here, alone, in the dark. He could have just as easily gone down into the kitchens and made himself a cup of tea or a hot chocolate. Hell, he could've gone to read in the study, but instead he'd chosen to sequester himself in a dusty old storage room, in the dark? Why? If he were feeling so low and despondent why would he sit in a room that looked so much like a cell?

Oh …

"Sirius?"

"Hm?"

Tucking himself into a small ball against his godfather's side, Harry drew in a deep breath. "What are your nightmares about?"

It was like the air was sucked out of the room.

"Everything," Sirius whispered. "And nothing."

The words hit the young man like a ton of bricks upon his chest. He had done some research on dementor's and Azkaban, having convinced Remus to let him dig out some of his old schoolbooks, and knew that adverse effect prolonged exposure to the creatures alone could do to the human psyche. They didn't just feed off of all the happiness and joy, they warped your own perception on your remaining memories, making you question which ones are real and happy and which ones never existed in the first place. It was truly harrowing and churned Harry's stomach just reading it as informally as text in a schoolbook.

'At least I have concrete memories coming back to me,' Harry thought miserably. 'It's just my perception of them has changed a little. Sirius has lost huge chunks of time … and the ones that are left are tainted …'

Slipping his hand into his godfather's, he gave the larger, tattooed hand a squeeze. Sirius looked down at him with such sorrow in his eyes that it made Harry want to cry. Sirius tipped his head and pressed a kiss to Harry's temple, before resting his head atop the teens.

"Try not to worry about my memories, Harry," Sirius sighed. "I get some new ones here and there, and Remus has helped a lot, but he can only show me so many things. I have to accept that there are blanks in my life and there isn't a whole lot to be done about it."

"I wish there was something I could do for you!" Harry let out a wet breath, his eyes brimming with hot tears. He squeezed even closer, burying his face against Sirius' shoulder and letting out a choked sob.

"This helps," Sirius admitted softly, carding his fingers through Harry's unruly hair. "Making a year's worth of new memories that include raising you? That's definitely helped. I'll always miss what has been taken from me, but these new memories? They help a lot. Don't you forget that, okay?"

"But is it enough?!"

Sirius tilted Harry's face up so that they were seeing eye-to-eye. There was a sadness etched into the soft lines around his eyes and a weariness that seemed to become like a second skin to him. The corners of his lips twitched slightly. "It'll have to be," he eventually said, the note of finality in his voice. "At least until things get back to normal."

"When were you able to feel normal after … all of this?"

"Any day now, pup."

Harry let the tears fall down his cheeks. Sirius cradled him against his chest and stroked his hair until the paleness of pre-dawn starting to leech the colour from the sky. Harry's head hurt from all the pent-up anger he felt. He had cried a little, big fat tears leaking out of his eyes as he'd clenched his jaw at the injustice the wizarding wars and ridden on good people. All that was left, now, was to keep moving forward and trying not to repeat the same mistakes a third time.

When they eventually got up to leave, Sirius had walked at Harry's side as they made their way down to the second floor landing. They were both weary, swaying on their feet as fatigue settled heavily behind their eyelids. Sirius pulled Harry against his chest, holding him securely as he buried his face in his godson's hair. The teen clutched him just as tightly, the dampness from his cheeks breaking Sirius' heart. With one last squeeze and a kiss to the forehead, they parted ways.

Slipping into his bedroom, Sirius noted that Teddy was fast asleep, snoring gently. Remus had fallen asleep half upright, clearing trying to wait for Sirius to come back to bed. A wave of affection washed through him as he raked a hand through his greasy hair, slid out of his pyjamas and crawled back among the cool sheets. It was the first night in over a week that Sirius went to bed in his human form. If Remus was surprised, when he drifted to consciousness again a few hours later, to feeling the cool, naked body of Sirius curled around him, he did nothing other than pull the sheets up a little higher, wrap his arms around the older man and nuzzle against him as sleep claimed him once again.

On the landing, in the paling light of day, Harry cast a forlorn look at his bedroom door. He really didn't like the idea of being alone. He knew he wouldn't be turned away if he went into Sirius' room and slept with him, but he felt like Sirius needed some proper respite. Turning right down the

~0~

The following morning, Draco awoke with his alarm at 9 o'clock and had to take a moment to reacquaint himself with the new imposed routine of his. He started to shift upright against his pillows and found that he couldn't. His body suddenly felt weighed down by something. For a brief moment, he panicked thinking that he'd finally succumbed to some form of paralysis, when a soft snore interrupted his thoughts. A shock of dark hair greeted him when he shifted onto his side. His heart skipped painfully in his chest; Harry Potter was sound asleep beside him, hair a shaggy mess against his pillow, soft freckles apparent against his skin and long black lashes fluttering as he dreamed. He had an arm and a leg slung across Draco, effectively trapping the blonde in his bed.

Draco bit his lip and tried to shift a little so that he could wriggle out of Potter's hold without disturbing him. However, the minor shift only made the younger teen cling even tighter, burying his face into the crook of Draco's arm. He felt a hot bolt of lightning rush through him.

Was that Potter's boner pressing against his thigh?

'FUCK!' Draco clenched his eyes in desperation. 'I don't need this today! I really, REALLY, don't need this today!'

As though it wanted to betray Draco just that little bit extra, his body started to respond to the feeling of a hard dick pressing against him. His eyes shot wide open. No, no, no, he couldn't get a boner! Not over a fourteen-year-old pressing up against him!

'Merlin, how touch-starved are you that this is turning you on?' he sneered at himself. 'Remember the grey-area age-gap. Not worth the hassle.'

It took a good ten minutes for him to safely extract himself from his bed -and Harry's clingy grip -and hurry to the window so he could look outward at muggle London and try to get his breathing -and other things -under control. From behind him, Harry sighed softly in his sleep and buried his face into Draco's still-warm pillow, inhaling his scent. Draco bit his lip, grabbed his bathrobe from the back of the door, and hurried to the take a shower.

Upon his return, still damp from the shower, Draco felt considerably calmer as he went directly to his wardrobe to pick out his most formal robes and shoes. Harry had barely stirred in his absence, though now he was sprawled out on his front, like a starfish, peachy skin exposed to the soft morning sunlight. Draco felt his throat run dry, as he focused on quickly getting dressed while Harry remained asleep.

He debated on waking the brat up, much like his old self would have done, when a soft knock came from the door. Peering out, he gave a tired smile as Sirius stood before him. "Are you ready to go?" he asked quietly.

Draco nodded, "Yes. Are we going to eat before we go?"

"There's a café across from the Ministry entrance," Sirius stated. "We can have something to eat there."

Nodding, Draco cast one last glance at the sleeping teen behind him, before pulling the door to and following Sirius down to the entrance hall. As soon as they were outside of the wards, Sirius hurried Draco down towards the nearest alley where they apparated into central London.

.

They had breakfast in a greasy spoon café, the stodgy food sitting heavily on Draco's stomach as they washed it all down with weak, milky tea. Sirius tossed a twenty on the counter and told the muggle server to keep the change, which he seemed only too happy to do. Draco followed his cousin back down along the street, feeling the back of his neck heat up as muggles shot them curious looks. He was less disturbed this time when they entered the red phone booth with the disconnected cable. He hated pinning the 'VISITOR' badge to his lapel, but he obeyed and tensed the moment the booth shook and started to sink below ground level. He fought the urge to grab onto Sirius' arm for comfort.

Like last time they were left sitting outside the court room for a lot longer than Draco thought necessary. He knew it was a scare tactic, to rile him up and make him unfocused. He hated it even more that the stupid reverse psychology was even working on his frayed nerves.

"Mr. Malfoy, we're ready for you."

He froze, both relieved and horrified at his name being called.

A firm squeeze on his shoulder encouraged him to mimic Sirius and stand to attention, his muscles tense and his mind running blank. What if he cocked it all up at the last minute? Just like his O.W.L.'s when Potter had made him lose focus?

'Potter isn't here today,' he reasoned. 'Just focus on the task in front of you and nothing else.'

"You've got this," Sirius stated in such a confident voice that, for a moment, Draco actually believed him.

Until he entered the room and the door slammed shut behind him.

He mentally steeled himself, swallowed past the lump in his throat and took the seat behind the lone desk perched in the middle of the room. The exam board loomed over him, dressed in their maroon robes with their peeked hats.

"Today, Mr. Malfoy, you shall be conducting the final parts of your practical as well as the written N.E.W.T. examination. Before we begin, do you have any questions?"

He tried to speak, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He shook his head, mutely.

"Very well, please take a seat. You will have four hours to complete these exams. If you need a drink or a bathroom break, do not hesitate to let us know and we can have someone escort you to the facilities."

Draco numbly took a seat and picked up the quill. He was starting to sweat, and he could feel his hands quaking.

"You may begin … now."

.

When Draco was finally released from the court room, he felt depleted in every sense of the word. Sirius sprang to his feet the moment the doors opened and hastened to Draco's side, thanked the escort who inclined her head and departed back behind the door. Sirius guided them back towards the apparition points, keeping up a steady stream of calming chatter that fell on deaf ears. Truly Draco felt as though he had done all he could have, but a small part of him truly didn't believe that it would be enough. He had done his best … he really, really had.

When they came out of the alley Sirius had apparated them too, Draco frowned upon not seeing the familiar street leading to Grimmauld place. Turning to frown at his cousin, he asked, "Where are we?"

Pointing across the street, Sirius grinned for the first time all day. Draco followed his finger and frowned even deeper upon seeing the dark purple paint of the shop window. "I … I don't know if I'm ready for it, Sirius."

"Why not?" he asked. "You've just finished your exams and turning over a new leaf as of today. Start going forward. Now seems as good a time as any, don't you think?"

Draco couldn't fault that logic. He stared up at the shop front again. So long as he was already a bundle of nerves, why not make the day memorable with something a little less mentally numbing and soul-crushing?

"Okay," he chewed on his lip before nodding stiffly. "But you're paying."

As he stalked off across the street, he could have sworn he heard Sirius' familiar bark of laughter for the first time all week. That alone gave him the confidence to push open the door of 'INK IT UP!'

~0~

June crept on, growing increasingly hot alternating with hurried bursts of rain. Regardless of the weather, the temperature remained in the twenties, which meant that all the doors and windows were flung open and that Harry sodding Potter had no qualms about walking around in a pair of board shorts and either a vest top, or topless! Draco had adopted a new routine where, after his runs with Remus in the mornings, he would collapse onto his bed in the stifling bedroom and nap until just after midday. By then Harry would be out in the garden practicing Quidditch moves on his broom for when he was next at the Weasley's or playing with Teddy and guiding him on his little toy broom.

Draco would never admit to anyone that he spent a fair amount of time perched on a windowsill, watching as a topless, rapidly tanning, Harry Potter flew, ducked, and rolled on his broom. The wanker was such a natural on a broom that it made Draco itch to go out and join him for a seeker's game. He refrained though, preferring to keep himself secluded in the third floor dining room and practicing his spells until someone came to drag him outside.

His tattoo was healing nicely, still covered in an opaque plastic wrap. He aired it out when he was walking around the house and wearing his own muggle t-shirts and shorts. Harry had looked curiously at his forearm but hadn't asked any questions as of yet.

Since that day, something had shifted in the house.

Draco felt freer than he had in a long time, yet more exposed as he no longer had the immediate pretence of study to run-off to, if he wanted to be by himself. Remus and Sirius often brain-stormed their lessons in the same room as him, even taking his advice to heart when planning out their own exams for the end of the year for their younger students. The calendar in the kitchen now had two additional dates penned in, signifying Ron's last exam date as well as Hermione's, which was a good six days later.

The blonde knew for a fact that as soon as both were freed from their exams, he would be seeing a lot more of them around Grimmauld place.

Another thing that had changed in the last week, was that more than once, Draco had woken up to feeling the weight of another person sleeping behind him. His heart and stomach did somersaults whenever he peered at Harry's peaceful face in the pearly grey dawn light. After the first time it had happened, he had forced himself not to flee from his bedroom. Instead, he relaxed back on the pillows, turning to face Harry or the canopy overhead. He'd usually drift back off to sleep, feeling calm and jittery all at the same time, however lately he had started to play a dangerous game. He had started to test the waters to see how much pressure he would have to apply before Harry woke up.

Every day it was getting harder and harder just to remove himself from the situation. He ran with Remus on his weeks off work, pushing himself to his limits. He had started helping Sirius out with his motorbike, it being too nice weather to tinker about with his potions in the basement. He needed something to focus his mind on.

.

By the time 18th June rolled around Draco had finally been brave enough to see his tattoo for himself now that it was completely healed and no longer irritable. He stood in just a pair of shorts in the bathroom across the landing from his room, bright sunlight filtering in through the window. He'd had a cool shower and all around him the house was quiet. Teddy and Remus were outside in the garden with Andromeda, having afternoon iced-tea and biscuits.

As he traced his fingertips over the stark black lines against his once marred skin. The scars were barely noticeable under the new tattoo. Narcissus flowers bloomed around the words in a border, the black outlines somehow making the flowers look soft. Within the petals, the thick ink spelled 'Initium Novum' in elegant cursive.

New Beginnings.

Sirius had granted him such a miracle and he would never forget it.

"Honey, I'm ho-o-o-me!"

Speak of the devil.

Pulling a t-shirt on, Draco went downstairs to the kitchen to see Sirius, Hermione and Ron dusting soot from themselves. He nodded politely at them both as he stepped down into the kitchen. "Good afternoon," he said. "Would anyone like an iced tea or lemonade?"

Sirius gasped with a nod, "My hero! Where are all the others?"

"Out back in the garden," Draco said, summoning glasses from the cabinet with his wand. The lightness he felt in his magic was somewhat disarming in a pleasant way. "Andromeda came over for iced tea and to play with Teddy."

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked with a frown.

"Practicing on his broom."

"Oh Merlin, Draco what is that on your arm?!" Hermione gasped loudly, pointing at his left arm as he poured them drinks.

He froze at her cry, before his cheeks turned pink, and he looked away. "A tattoo," he said.

Sirius smirked, "We got it right after he finished his exam at the ministry."

Hermione's wide eyes darted between the both of them. "I … was it … did you …?"

"Isn't that where your Dark Mark used to be?" Ron asked, tactlessly. Hermione gave him a sharp jab with his elbow and a warning look.

"Yes, it is," Draco replied. What was the point in lying? "I wanted something nice to look at rather than mangled scar tissue."

"Did it … um … hurt?" Hermione asked, chewing on her bottom lip. She clearly had a lecture about tattoos and impulse decisions, but considering Sirius was in the room, she knew better than to say anything out loud.

"A bit," the blonde admitted, putting the jug of lemonade back in the fridge. "But after you've spent several months being crucio'd for breathing, a few hours under a needle doesn't seem like much."

"That's my boy," Sirius clapped him on the back with a grin. "Made of tougher stuff than he looks!" He gulped his drink down all in one go, before smacking his lips together. "Right, you lot, outside. Get some sun, you're all far too pale! I need to change out of these damn robes, there's only so much a cooling charm can do."

They watched as he bounded from the kitchen in a sweep of his robes, before taking their drinks out into the garden.

.

As soon as he was sure the teenagers were out of earshot, Sirius closed the bedroom door with a weary sigh. He shed his robes in a matter of minutes and sprawled back against the cold bedclothes in nothing but his underwear. He closed his eyes and just immersed himself in the soft coolness of the bedsheets, wanting to clear his mind of the agonizing tension that was the last five days.

He heard the click of the door opening but didn't bother opening his eyes. He could smell the faint sugary aroma of Remus. The dip of the mattress didn't surprise him either.

"Hey," Remus breathed, lying back against the mattress.

"Hey."

"I wondered where you'd gotten to."

"I needed a moment to just … breathe."

Remus hummed. "Draco's tattoo is the topic of conversation downstairs. I quite like it."

"Thinking of getting some ink yourself, Moony?"

Remus snorted, "Don't be daft. I'd ruin my vibe."

"What, stuffy old professor?"

"Hey now, that's your partner you're talking about," he teased.

Sirius huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I just needed five minutes to not be 'on', you know?"

"I get it, Pads."

Sirius opened his eyes and turned his head so that they were seeing eye-to-eye. "You really do, don't you?"

Remus offered a small smile. Sirius drank him all in; the white scars stretching across his face, the threads of grey in his hair and the cobweb thin cardigan he wore over a plain tee. Remus was deceptively soft and could draw blood from a stone if he so desired. Licking his lips nervously, Sirius looked down between their bodies.

"Remus, I … I think I want to tell you about what's been going on in my head."

"Sirius, you truly don't have to -"

"That's just it, I do," Sirius said earnestly. "I need to tell you, Remus. I … need some of your strength, okay? And patience, if you can spare any."

"Oh damn, I left my patience in my other trousers," Remus teased. He reached between them, found Sirius' cool hand and laced their fingers together. He squeezed. "I'm here, love."

And wasn't that just the most beautiful thing in the world?

A/N: Please leave some lovely reviews! I hope you liked the update!

B x