Remus glared at the man sitting across from him at the table. Sirius Orion Black was positively plastered, and it was noon on a Wednesday. This was maybe suitable behavior for a fifteen-year-old-boy, but as far as Remus could tell, old Padfoot was an adult. He had people to talk to, Harry to be a role-model for, and the Order to work for.

"You're behaving like a real arse," Remus spat at his friend. Sirius glared right back.

"Oh?" He drawled. "Funny, because I'm not the one cornering my best friend, telling him what a horrible—"

"I never said you were horrible," Remus interjected, "But you are getting that way. Your pity party for one is pathetic. This isn't you, Padfoot," Remus said, softer this time. "You aren't some drunken fool."

"Really?" Sirius quipped. "Because that's all you see me as these days," he shot back. Remus narrowed his eyes, lips curling back.

"Look," he snarled. "I get it. You're stuck at home and you feel useless as everyone else around you is out there doing something. You don't think I've felt that way?" Remus retorted. "Watching you and James go out with the others—you know what I was doing instead," Remus said darkly. "And only three weeks out of the month. And for what good? They all went to his side anyway," he added. "As I'm sure they will do again. You don't think I've felt useless?"

Sirius crossed his arms. "Well, you could leave the house—"

"No, I couldn't! For at least one week a month I was a complete mess—but I had you and James to snap me out of it, make me see sense, and that worked. Now, I'm no James, but I know you quite well," Remus reasoned. "I know what this house does to you. But your parents aren't here—you've got Weasleys and me and your cousin. Besides," the werewolf continued. "You think this is the example you want to set for Harry, your godson? You want him to think that when the going gets tough, the Marauders drink their livers out?"

The floppy-haired Marauder pursed his lips. "I do not drink my liver out, Moony, and you'd best watch your tone." Remus scoffed.

"Watch my…watch my tone? Really, Sirius?" He asked incredulously. "No, I won't watch my tone—you'd do the same thing if it were the other way around," he insisted.

"I miss when you were quieter," Sirius mumbled. "This whole 'confident' Moony is a lot more difficult to break."

"I'm confident because of the years of you lot teaching me to be," Remus snapped. "I'm not some sniveling—"

"You're confident because someone loves you who isn't me," Sirius retorted. Remus froze, eyes growing a bit wide.

"Don't you dare—"

"Well it's bloody true!" Sirius exclaimed. "It didn't matter that I loved you—I didn't count. I was your friend for years. You hadn't managed to convince some bloody stranger off the street that you were lovable—it was just good 'ol Sirius," he spat.

"That's not true and you know it," Remus began hoarsely. "That's not all that was, wht you were. But that had to change, didn't it? Because how can you survive when you tie your self worth to someone who isn't there?" Remus asked, voice breaking. "I told you I would always love you, which is why it hurts for me to see you like this," he said softly, noting a silence from Sirius. Hard exterior or not, Remus could tell when his friend was truly feeling something. "Besides," Remus added. "No one besides you or my father—"

"Are you blind?" Sirius snapped, seeming to brush off the earlier conversation.

"Am I…what?" Remus huffed, a bit confused. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You and my baby cousin—really, mate, you've got a type—are in love."

Remus snorted, scoffed, rolled his eyes—anything to show how false that accusation really was. Dora? Never, he thought.

"Padfoot," he began, "We are friends—work friends. We go out on Order business together and talk about work—"

"Now wait!" Sirius interjected. "That is untrue: yesterday you washed dishes together and your arm fell to her lower back. Don't tell me that's nothing—"

"Because she's so bloody clumsy!" Remus insisted. "Anytime she does anything she falls and breaks something, and I don't want her to get hurt…Because of her importance to the Order."

Sirius snorted. "Don't want her to get hurt…Remus, she's an Auror! Getting hurt and putting herself in danger is part of her day to day life—much like yours, if I might add!" The werewolf narrowed his eyes. "Don't you think she worries about you?" Sirius retorted. "You might not see if, but every bloody full moon she asks me 'is Remus alright?' or 'is there anything I can do? Maybe a nice shag—'"

"She does not say that," Remus said coolly. "Dora—"

"And you call her Dora!" Sirius yelped. "If I tried to do that she would burn my face off—and not just off the family tree, she would burn my actual, pretty face—"

"Not that pretty anymore—"

"Oh, hush," Sirius seethed, then smiled. "Do you think she's pretty?

"Who?" Remus asked, feigning ignorance. His friend rolled his eyes.

"You know bloody well who—Tonks!"

"Well, objectively—"

"No, not objectively," Sirius said, mildly annoyed. "You're not a bloody professor anymore. Do you, Moony, find Nymphadora—"

"Yes, alright?" Remus said angrily. "Yes, she's beautiful—are you happy now, you twat?"

Sirius looked at his friend quizzically. "Well, yes—but now I 'm concerned…why aren't you?" Remus sighed.

"Because I am love with a girl over a dozen years younger than me—and she can never love me back. It was never unrequited with you—"

"Oh bullshit!" Sirius exclaimed. "I had to convince you tens of times not to end things—"

"It wasn't ever unrequited!" Remus huffed. "I pushed you away, but I still felt things for you—this time is different. I love her, but she could never love me. Even if she did, I would have to tell her not to: you're some old dog—"

"—hey!"

"—but she's this young, beautiful, talented young woman who could do so much better than dome old, poor, dangerous sod like me," Remus said sadly. Sirius' eyes widened.

"Is that all you think you are? Old—you're younger than me, and I refuse to be old. Dangerous is hardly relevant anymore, everything is dangerous, and you're just as poor as anyone else is. Your excuses don't work," Sirius insisted. "And they're no good. If you love her—I mean, really love her—then you go out and get her. We'll all be dead in five years anyway, why not have some fun before we get there?" Sirius asked darkly. Remus paused, and looked around the room. He didn't really have much of a comeback to that lined up. The conversation was supposed to be about Sirius' drinking. As if understanding his friend's thoughts, Sirius began speaking again.

"If you promise to keep an open mind about Dora…I'll stop drinking," he said softly. "I know that's been bothering you—it's bothering me as well. Drinking isn't as fun when it isn't the Marauders playing truth or dare in their dorm room."

Remus smiled. "It was barely fun then. I…" he gulped, pausing. "I promise to keep an open mind—if she loves me…well, I wouldn't go easy, but I would go for it." Sirius clapped and grinned.

"Excellent, mate! I'll start on the save the dates—"

"Sirius," Remus hissed, "What are you doing?"

"Well," he said matter-of-factly, "Tonks asked me to get you to admit you loved her—she's been pining after you for months. Now that you have, you're allowed to make your move, and based on your promise—"

"No…" Remus gasped, shaking his head. "You didn't—"

"I did," Sirius said proudly. "Oh, I have so much to do!" Sirius cooed. "Wedding invites, making the bassinet—"

"We won't be needing that," Remus said darkly, then widened his eyes. "I didn't mean—"

"You said we!" He cheered. Remus rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling: Dora loved him back. And Sirius, who Remus thought would never want to see him in love with anyone else, was helping. It seemed too good to be true.

It wasn't.