Feeling like a fugitive fleeing the scene of a crime, Remus made his guilty way down to the Whomping Willow through the gathering dark, every now and then glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. It was a foolish fear. All the windows of the castle were dark, save those of the Great Hall where even now those few professors and students who remained at Hogwarts over the holidays were gathering for their meal. Prodding the tree with a handy branch, he ducked beneath the bare, rustling branches and lowered himself into the hidden entrance to the secret passage.

It was pitch black in the tunnel, but Remus did not need light to find his way. How many times had he traveled this path in his school days? How quickly it all came back to him!

He ducked suddenly, remembering just in time a large root that grew down through the low ceiling. He had to walk bent almost double. The passage had seemed bigger when he was a boy, but he had had a final growth spurt near the end of his seventh year, which had left him almost a head taller than his friends.

It suddenly occurred to him that Sirius could be here in the tunnel, and he stopped short, willing his heart to quiet its pounding so he could listen. He sniffed the air. No, he was alone in the darkness. Perhaps to be on the safe side, he had better have some light.

"Lumos," he whispered into the darkness, drawing his wand.

The glow lit the passage to about ten paces ahead of him on the straight bits. He continued through the tunnel at a cautious pace.

The passage from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack was nearly half a mile long, and as Remus emerged at the far end, he straightened painfully. He had a crick in his neck and an ache at the base of his spine. As he stretched, he paused to listen again. No, there was no sound of anyone or anything in the house.

Most of the Wizarding world, he knew, would be terrified to find themselves in this place. Its haunting was legend, and even the boldest and most foolhardy of teenagers hesitated to approach, even on a dare.

It's silly of them, really, Remus thought. After all, there are dozens of ghosts at Hogwarts, and hardly anyone ever turns a hair.

But it suited him well enough that people avoided this place, because that made it one of the safest places in the world for him. He had always felt at ease here. Coming back almost felt like coming home.

At first, in the old days, it had only been his place, arranged by Dumbledore for his monthly transformations. But his friends had been clever boys, and they had figured out his secret within a year. Weeks of pestering had finally made him agree to bring them down here. After that, it had become their place as well. It was a place where they could all relax and be themselves, hide and plan mischief, and, as they grew older, arrange romantic trysts.

It was here that his friends had first experimented with their Animagus shapes, before letting him in on the secret which had been a birthday surprise. Here that he had awoken to dozens of painful dawns, face pressed to warm, comforting black fur. And here the bed where -

The Remus Lupin of a few hours ago might have glanced away from the bed in guilt and shame at the thought, but the wolf was rising in him, and now he stared hungrily at the large, dusty four-poster, remembering unnumbered scenes of passion that had taken place there. Not the first time, but so many times after that.

The inevitable had been a long time coming, though.

In the spring after sixteen-year-old Remus had seen the truth in the Mirror of Erised, things had become awkward between himself and Sirius. He could feel himself withdrawing, becoming more thoughtful, often unable to meet Sirius's eyes. And he had noticed Sirius becoming more arrogant, standoffish, and occasionally downright cruel. He had hated how things were between them then, but was at a loss to know what to do about it.

It had seemed like Sirius was in a state of constant arousal. Not that he had said anything, but the pheromones pouring off him told Remus clearly enough, and made his life a living hell as his body responded to the scent in the only way it could. Remus had assumed at the time that there must be a girl Sirius wanted who had put him off somehow. The thought demoralised Remus. Sirius was beautiful. Eventually, he would find a willing girl who would take him out of their circle, and beyond the reach of Remus's agonised hopes.

They had gone home that summer barely speaking to one another.

But in early July, James had sent Remus an owl informing him that Sirius had run away from home and come to stay with the Potters for the rest of the summer. Remus had been glad to hear this, since the Potters lived closer to him than the Blacks did, and were much more pleasant to visit.

Remus had spent most of June thinking about things, and trying to decide what he would say to Sirius if he ever got the chance. They were friends, after all, and good ones - or had been until recently - and now that Sirius was away from the stresses of dealing with his family and school, he might be willing at least to listen to what Remus had to say with understanding.

Not that Remus had been planning to proposition him, but he thought he might be able to bring the conversation around to the topic of certain feelings and see what he could find out what Sirius thought about - certain things.

After the July moon, Remus's parents gave him permission to spend a few weeks with the Potters. Things seemed to be back to normal, much to Remus's relief. Sirius was friendlier and more relaxed than he had seemed in a while, but it still took Remus the better part of two weeks to work up the courage and find a moment to say what must be said when James was not around to overhear.

At last, he had invited Sirius to come stay with his own family for a week. The Potters had been planning a holiday in France, and while they said they would be delighted to have Sirius along, Remus desperately hoped he might at least consider the alternative of spending some time with his fellow canine. Much to his surprise, Sirius had quickly accepted.

But Remus, being awkward and sixteen, had fumbled the smooth, well-planned, casual conversation he had been over, time and again, in his head.

"Sirius," he had said one lazy, hot afternoon as the two of them lounged on the grassy bank of a river near his home, "what do you think about - girls?"

Sirius's brow had furrowed, but he had not opened his eyes. "They're all right, I guess," he said. "Your friend Evans is a bit stuck up, but she's nice enough to look at. Prongs fancies her like anything."

Remus was not sure where to take the conversation from there, and was so busy trying to think of what to say next that he failed to notice what an odd answer it was that Sirius had given to a relatively straightforward question.

"Yeah, Lily's great," he agreed vaguely. "I can really talk to her about - stuff. You know?"

Sirius nodded, eyes still closed.

"I mean," Remus pressed on, "it's not that I don't think I can talk to you and Prongs and Wormtail. But Lily, well, she understands about - stuff," he finished lamely.

He stared very hard at a single blade of grass, willing himself not to sound like an idiot.

"Moony," said Sirius grumpily, finally opening one eye and fixing it on his friend, "are you trying to tell me you fancy Evans? Because if you've been messing about with her, Prongs'd better not find out."

"No, no! Nothing like that," Remus replied quickly.

There was a moment's silence in which Sirius closed his eye again.

"But - that's the kind of stuff she understands about. Fancying people, I mean." He blushed furiously and continued staring hard at the blade of grass.

"Mmmm," said Sirius, frowning. "So you do fancy someone, Moony? Why didn't you say so? Need me to talk to her for you?"

Remus had begun to realise that there was no smooth, casual way to find out or say the thing that was on his mind. Best to just out with it, then. He took a deep breath.

"Sirius - no, I don't need you to -" he gestured helplessly. "I - it's not - Sirius, it's not a girl I fancy."

Sirius's eyes popped open at that. He squinted at Remus down his long nose. There was a look of puzzlement in his eyes, and something else, too, though Remus was not certain what.

"Do you fancy Prongs, Moony?! Is that why you're talking to Evans?" Sirius whistled softly. "What is it about him? People are always falling all over themselves to do things for him. Everyone fancies him." Sirius sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

"No, Sirius -" Remus tried.

"Moony, you're one of my best mates, so I will tell you this as gently as I can," Sirius looked like he might be on the verge of shouting. Remus shut his mouth. "Prongs isn't like that. You know he's all for Evans. I'm not getting involved in a tug-o-war with you lot over my best mate. There are just some things that go beyond the bounds of friendship."

Sirius was looking at him, expecting some kind of response. Remus was stunned. Sirius was not at all bothered by the idea that he might be that way inclined. Maybe the next thing he had to say would not be so hard. But Sirius was still staring at him with those gray eyes under those straight, black brows.

"Sirius," he began softly, "Padfoot, I think you mistook my meaning."

Suddenly, words failed him. Looking pleadingly into Sirius's eyes, he laid a hand on the boy's knee.

"Oh," said Sirius softly, a look of sudden comprehension dawning in his eyes.

It seemed like forever that they sat there, still and silent, gazing into one another's eyes, Remus's hand on Sirius's knee.

Then Sirius had looked away. Remus felt a deep disappointment well up inside him. He drew back his hand.

"Did I ever tell you -" Sirius began, then cleared his throat. "Did I ever tell you about how we all became Animagi?" He glanced quickly back at Remus who shook his head, and then looked out over the river again. "It was my idea. I thought it must be fun, being able to be an animal once in a while.

"I know," he said quickly, though Remus had not planned to interrupt. "I was naive then. I didn't realise how the transformations hurt you. I just thought it seemed like you were out having fun while we were all holed up in the castle. I wanted -" He smiled ruefully. "I wanted to come out and play with you, I guess. I got the idea when Hagrid had that litter of hellhound pups. Watching them play-fight and tumble over one another - I thought it would be fun to have that - to have a pack. And I thought you'd like it." He blushed.

"So I started doing research into Animagi. It was complicated stuff. Advanced incantations, rare ingredients, lots of mental discipline. I told Prongs what I was doing, and he offered to help. Then Wormtail joined in. We spent every full moon night for three years researching, preparing, gathering ingredients when you weren't there to see. I don't think I ever slept on the night of a full moon all that time. It was like an obsession.

"I wanted to be out there with you, running by your side in the moonlight. And for the first couple of years, I never thought to wonder why I wanted it so much. But then one night I got in late after detention, and you were sprawled out on your bed with open books and bits of parchment all around you, sound asleep, and I looked at you - really looked - and I knew."

Remus could barely breathe. If Sirius was saying what it sounded like he was saying -

"What did you know, Padfoot?" he asked softly.

Sirius looked at him then, and smiled shyly. "I knew it wasn't pack mates I wanted. It wasn't running through the woods in the moonlight. It wasn't the prestige of being an Animagus. It was you, Moony," he said simply, taking Remus's hand in his. "I wanted to go where you went and do the things you did because I didn't like being apart from you. But how could I ever say something like that to you, and hope you'd understand?"

Remus's chest had felt tight, and his head swam as if he were not getting enough oxygen. He turned squeezed Sirius's hand. They both sat looking at their intertwined fingers as the sun began to set.

"When did you know?" Sirius asked presently.

Remus looked into the other boy's eyes and smiled. "This spring," he said. "Ever hear of the Mirror of Erised?"

Sirius looked at him blankly.

"Never mind," said Remus. "It's not important."

After a moment of silence, he added, "Padfoot?"

"Hmmm?" Sirius was once again looking out over the river at the sunset, this time thoughtfully.

"Would you mind - I mean, would it be all right - Can I kiss you?" He blushed deep crimson at the awkwardness of the question.

Sirius had said nothing, but turned to look at him again. Then, very slowly, he had leaned toward him. Remus had closed his eyes as their lips met; soft, boyish mouth to soft, boyish mouth. They were both awkward, and their teeth clicked together, but they had not stopped. Tentatively, they had tasted and explored one another for the first time as Remus's heart had swelled in his chest, bursting with the knowledge that life was better than he had ever imagined.

It was long moments before they had finally drawn back from one another, blushing and grinning, their hands still clasped together.

"Let's not tell Prongs just yet," Remus had said.

Sirius had nodded, a wicked, conspiratorial smile on his swollen lips.

In the Shrieking Shack, Remus Lupin growled low in his throat, licking his lips at the memory.