A/N: Written for a competition over on LJ for the AU team. Could not have been nearly as good—or would not have been nearly as long—without remuslives23 or planetgal471. (Many thanks, ladies!)

Disclaimer: You know the drill: not mine, belong to JKRowling and her minions, have no money worth suing for...

"The gaze of the wolf reaches into our soul."—Barry Lopez

"To look into the eyes of a wolf is to see your own soul—hope you like what you see."—Aldo Leopold

While I had been gone, Moody and Dumbledore had arranged a series of Portkeys to get to Arles, and we had two hours before the first one activated. There was a lot of discussion about how we were going to get Remus there without him panicking or attacking someone. Lily, who'd stayed to see us off, gave Moody an earful when he suggested we just use an animal crate.

It was finally decided to more or less overdose Remus with some Calming Draughts. Moody, anticipating I might need them, also showed me a number of Pacification Spells used by Aurors to quell Dark wizards who decided not to cooperate.

"Between all that, we should be able to get him to the house without having to Stun or muzzle him," Moody said.

I carefully mixed the potions in some tea, hoping there would be enough of Remus left to remember that he liked tea, hoping he might drink it without putting up a fight.

I found him sitting in a corner of the room where I'd left him, his arms wrapped around his knees which were pulled tightly to his chest. He glared at me, but when I whined softly, his stare softened.

"Hey, Moony," I said, smiling. "Are you thirsty?" Out of nervousness and the hope of soothing him, I rambled a bit about how we'd have breakfast at our new place in just a couple of hours and then started listing our food choices as I approached him. He watched me warily, but didn't move.

When I was only an arm's length away, I knelt, holding the mug out toward him. He stared at it, and then tilted his head to the side. Slowly, he moved until he was up on his knees. He glanced from me to the mug, his nose twitching at the aroma of the tea that rose like the steam from its surface.

"You'll have to be careful," I warned him. "It's hot."

I was waiting for him to reach for the mug, so I was shocked when he suddenly dipped his head toward the vessel as if he were going to lap at the contents like a dog. Or a wolf.

"No, Moony!" I was so stunned that I yelled the words as I pulled the mug away, making it slosh over my hand. We both yelped: me from the shock of the hot liquid and Remus from fright as he curled into a ball in the corner, cowering away from me.

"Shit!" I whispered. I had known it would be difficult. Now I was realising it was going to be even more difficult than I had originally thought. If he couldn't even remember how to drink from a mug, what other things had he forgotten?

"Moony, I'm sorry," I said softly. "Come on, now." I saw his shoulders tighten as I moved closer, and heard the low warning growl as I touched his shoulder. "I know you have to be thirsty," I told him, suddenly and ashamedly realising that he'd probably not had anything to drink since he'd been here in this room — at least five hours now.

"Fine keeper I'm going to make for you," I muttered.

It took a good five minutes to get him to turn around and look at me. His eyes were focussed on the mug, though, and I knew he might not have responded to my cajoling if he weren't thirsty.

"Watch, Moony," I said. I raised the mug to my lips and pretended to take a drink, remembering at the last second that there was a strong Calming Draught in it—something, I mused, I might need later.

He watched me carefully, his eyebrows lowering with concentration. If it weren't for the amber eyes, I would have thought he was our usual Remus, puzzling over an Arithmancy problem or a Runes translation.

I held the mug out to him. "Here. You try."

Slowly, he reached for the mug, watching my fingers closely. I couldn't help but feel a moment of triumph once the small object had left my hands and was nestled, however awkwardly, in his. Still, the moment was bittersweet because the easy grace with which he usually held his tea had disappeared. I tried not to think that it might be gone for good.

He had the knack of it by the time he finished the tea and I could already see that the Draught was slightly dulling his eyes and slowing his breathing. The time he took in finishing the tea gave me more time to list other things that Remus would need to know — and probably the most important thing was to come next.

I took the empty mug from his hand and sighed. "How about a trip to the loo, Moony?"

An hour or so before dawn, we found ourselves in an alley next to a branch of the French version of the Ministry of Magic right in the middle of Arles. Remus had stiffened and tried to pull away from us just as the first Portkey activated, but a quick spell of Moody's made him completely submissive.

"I need to be able to use this spell on him when he's back in his right mind," I said, as I steered him toward the front of the building.

"Use it beyond what I'm permitting and you'll find yourself in Azkaban," the Auror threatened me. "It's just a step lower than an Imperius. Now, you two stay here while I go in and report we've brought a werewolf into the country."

"Will that be a problem?" I asked, suddenly remembering an instance when Remus had been refused entrance into France during a panic about a feral werewolf pack near Nantes.

"You let me deal with them," Moody replied with something like sadistic glee. "They owe me for Francois Boulanger."

"Do I want to know?"

He laughed curtly, making Remus jerk in startled response. "There's a five inch long scar on my hip thanks to that bugger, and the French Ministère knows that."

We stood against the front of the building, and just to fill up the time, I started talking to Remus, wondering what our new home would be like. He wasn't able to contradict or drily discount my more wild ramblings. I pointed that out to him with a certain amount of smugness.

A woman suddenly stepped out of the door of the seemingly vacant building against which we were leaning. She turned, saw us, and gave me a bright smile. "MonsieurBlack?"

"Sirius, s'il vous plaît," I said, offering her one of my most charming grins in return.

"I am Claire Lambert, a member of what you might call the Magical Creature Department." Her lips lightly brushed both of my cheeks in greeting.

"And this is Monsieur Lupin?" She eyed him carefully, but not as warily as he was watching her.

I verified that and watched as she waved a wand in his direction. "I am only recording his identification number," she said by way of explanation to my questioning gaze.

Remus shifted uneasily, edging away from her until I touched his arm. "It's okay, Moony."

She raised an eyebrow. "Moony?"

I shrugged and grinned. "Nickname."

Claire took a slow step toward him, speaking softly to him in French. I couldn't hear everything she said, but from what I could, she was merely telling him that she wasn't going to harm him and that he was welcome to stay as long as he needed to. I think she said something about me, but she leaned toward him conspiratorially so I couldn't hear clearly. He seemed more curious than threatened by her and I was very, very relieved.

"I will be visiting your residence within the next day or two to inspect the wards and the protective measures you will be using to contain your loup-garou," she said, almost briskly, when she was finished talking to my friend. "Monsieur Moody informs us that there is a cellar that can be used to restrain him during the full moon."

"I haven't seen it yet," I said. "But I will set things up right away."

She nodded. "That would be advisable."

At that point, a small automobile turned the corner and pulled up in front of us. Moody stepped out of the car and waved a hand toward the rear seat. "Gentlemen, if you're finished?"

Remus did not like the idea of getting into the small car, and it pained me when Moody said, "You're going to have to Stun him, Black. Might as well get used to the idea."

I did it while Remus wasn't looking. It felt cowardly, hitting a defenseless man with a Stunner while he had his back to me. The alternative of letting him see and know that a wave of my wand could send him into unconsciousness—or possibly worse—would only hinder my attempts to get him to trust me completely.

While he was in the back of the car, I checked his wrists. I'd healed them earlier—before James had come to find us— but hadn't looked at them since. They seemed to be doing well. Moody, leaning over my shoulder, approved as well.

The driver, a French Ministère worker who spoke very little English, watched bemusedly as we manhandled the sleeping Moony into the car. He made no effort to help us, though he did offer me a cigarette, which I gratefully accepted.

"Filthy habit," Moody muttered. "Don't think you're smoking that thing in the car."

I tossed the unfinished cigarette onto the sidewalk and deliberately ground it into the concrete with the toe of my shoe, keeping my eyes on the Auror's. "Let's go, then," I said. I suppose I was being a bit of a smart arse about it, but within an hour, I was going to be left with Moony in a place I didn't know with no one familiar nearby to rely on. Even condemned Muggles get a chance at a last cigarette.

However, as we made our way through the city and then out into the rural areas surrounding Arles, I found myself enjoying the first glimpses of the area in which Remus and I were now going to live.

The buildings became fewer and farther between as we drove, and the air became less oppressive. Now I could see trees and, off to the side, hills and a skyline that was now beginning to glow with the rising sun. The area we were heading into was flatter—a place of agriculture and marshlands. Flocks of birds rose from the fields and we passed more than one farmhand on their way to work.

The cottage was small and constructed of grey stone that was weathered by the sun and wind until it was bleached almost white. The thick wooden door and shutters on every window were painted a dark green. Window boxes at every window were unkempt with weeds. A small stone fence marked out a garden in the front, and the smell of grapes came from an uncontrolled tangle of vines to the left. Peeking over the top of the red tile roof were two large juniper trees. And while I stood there taking this all in, a large, long-necked white bird with long legs flew over us.

"Bonne chance," the driver of the car said, pointing to the bird. He tapped his forehead with his fingertips as if trying to remember something, then smiled broadly. "Stork," he declared, pointing again in the bird's direction. "Is good luck."

"We can use some of that," I said.

From where I stood, I could see three other houses, but a walk to the closest one would be equivalent to three city blocks.

I breathed deeply, and was overcome by a veritable smorgasbord of smells: the sweet fruitiness of the grapes; the tangy salt of the nearby marshes; and the wild fullness of the grasses.

Never had I felt as much at home anywhere as I did when we arrived in the Camargue.

I used some muscle and a Levitation spell or two to get Remus out of the car before I revived him. Moody warned me that I should bind him before awakening him; that he'd be so disoriented and frightened by the new surroundings that he'd either attack or bolt.

I looked around and took another deep breath. "No," I said with a shake of my head. "He'll be fine."

I don't know how I knew. Maybe I was expecting too much of him. Maybe I was putting too much of what I was feeling into my assumption. But there was just something about this country, about this area that soothed me—and I knew Remus would sense the same thing.

I held my breath as his eyes fluttered opened, hoping the blue would be back—but I wasn't surprised to see the amber orbs. Watching him as he took in the new sights and smells as I had, I realised I wasn't overly disappointed. We could make a good home here, I thought. It would be nice to get away from the chaos of London and war. And then immediately I kicked myself mentally for my thoughts. We were here for Remus. I should have been disappointed that Remus wasn't back in his own mind when he awoke.

"All right, then, Moony?" I asked quietly, watching him closely.

He sat up slowly, his eyes wide, but not frightened. He looked at me and tilted his head as if asking me to explain the situation.

"We're home, Moony," I told him simply. I couldn't help the big grin that spread across my face.

I was pleasantly surprised when he tentatively smiled back.

I was exhausted, but adrenaline and excitement had me exploring all aspects of the house, dragging Remus behind me and pointing out the rooms, the colours, the furniture. I opened up cabinets and drawers, checked inside wardrobes and closets, keeping a running monologue as we went.

"Look, Moony! Look at that red! You can have this chair, I'll take that one. Wait! Did you see these window sills? They're so deep! You can sit here and read—well, once you remember how to read, that is. Suppose there are any Boggarts in this closet?"

He followed me willingly enough. I think he was just as curious about the place as I was. We went upstairs to the bedrooms. One was painted light green and had a beautiful handmade quilt of dark greens and reds against an ivory background spread across a large bed made of some kind of dark wood. A wardrobe and dressing table of similar wood shared the room and paintings and Muggle photographs dotted the walls.

The sole window faced the west and I went to look through it. "I hope the bedrooms are the same size or we'll have to flip a Knut to see who gets which room. I like the green, but—Moony?"

I'd turned back around and he wasn't there. I felt my heart stop. "Moony?"

I darted out into the narrow hallway, glanced into the loo—noticing it was surprisingly modern in comparison to the rest of the house—and then ran on into the other bedroom.

Remus was standing by the small window that looked out to the east. His eyes were closed in obvious pleasure as the sun's rays streamed through the window, bathing him in the strengthening warmth. It stunned me, because I had never seen Remus look as content as he did right at that moment; and I'd known him for seven years.

I glanced around the bright turquoise room. It was almost garish, making me feel like I was inside a fishbowl. It had a small bed with a dark red bedspread and a small table in the corner near the window. A small dresser and two chairs and several paintings around the room completed the furnishings. It was substantially smaller than the other room, and a door set in the one wall opened into a small storage area full of old trunks and odds and ends.

"Moony?" I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and turned to me.

"I'm guessing that you want this room," I said softly. "Yes?"

He cocked his head to one side and one eyebrow lowered in confusion.

I pointed in the direction of the other bedroom. "That room? Or this room?" I made a sweeping motion with my hand and then pointed to the small bed. I did it several more times before finally taking Remus' arm and tugging him out of the room. He let me take him into the hallway, but when I tried to take him back into the green bedroom, he resisted my gentle pull.

I released his arm so I could again gesture to the two rooms and ask him which one he would prefer. I didn't have to. As soon as he was freed, he edged backwards and away from me for a few tentative steps—and then turned and darted back into that gods-awful turquoise room.

I grinned—our sleeping arrangements were settled.

I made a quick breakfast of eggs and sausage (all brought from our refrigerators at home and charmed to stay cold) and used an hour and several Warming charms to teach Remus how to eat with a fork. It was amazing to me how many of our daily actions were learned and not instinctive, and I knew it would be quite a while before I ever took those things for granted.

I relentlessly kept up a one-sided conversation with him. I did notice that, toward the end, he was becoming more comfortable with the fork and was paying attention to me. Actually, I felt like he was studying me as he used to study the magical creatures that Professor Kettleburn had shown us in school. I suppose it could have made me uneasy; instead, I made a point of modelling other behaviours: using a napkin, using a knife and spoon, buttering toast...

It made me laugh to suddenly realise that he was holding his eating utensils like I did. He wasn't doing anything wrong—I'd been brought up to eat in a very proper and dignified manner—but I never had realised how many personal idiosyncrasies went into something as simple as handling a fork. It seemed out of place, seeing my grip imposed upon his long fingers.

It's wrong, my mind whispered. But I had to start somewhere. I thanked every god I could think of that Remus was clever and capable of picking things up fairly quickly.

Reckoning it wouldn't hurt to use magic when there weren't Muggles around—and coming to that conclusion quickly and guiltlessly because I hated to wash dishes—I cleaned up with a few well-placed charms and then led Remus upstairs to our bedrooms for some sleep. I put a charm across his doorway so that if he walked out of the room, an alarm would sound.

He practically collapsed onto his bed, looking as tired as I felt, so I doubted I'd have to worry about an escape.

It was late afternoon and the sun was shining through my bedroom window when I awoke to the sound of a bell ringing somewhere in the house. I quickly snagged my denims and slid them up my legs, hurrying to button and zip as I ran toward Remus' room. He was sitting up in his bed, hair tousled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his fists. Confused now, because it wasn't my spell going off, I ran down the steps to the front door and yanked it open.

"Well, Monsieur Black. This is an interesting way you have of greeting people," Claire Lambert said, smiling smugly at my bare chest.

"We were having a kip, er, sleeping. We didn't sleep much last night," I offered by way of apology.

"It is not a problem," she said. "May I come in and see what arrangements you've made for Monsieur Moony?" Her brown eyes twinkled at the nickname.

I hadn't made any as of yet, and told her as much. "I meant to," I continued, "but we were hungry and more or less shagged out."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "Monsieur Black, I thought I told you—"

"Call me Sirius, please. I know you told me to do it, and I promised to do so—"

A loud, brassy chime suddenly filled the house, immediately followed a raspy howl.

"Shit! I forgot the charm!" I stepped into the house, motioning for Claire to come in and then sprinted up the steps.

Remus was huddled in a ball on the floor just inside his room, his hands over his ears.

"I'm sorry, Moony!" I breathed as I ended the spell, cutting the chime off abruptly. I continued to murmur apologies as I knelt beside him and rubbed his back comfortingly.

It took a few minutes before he uncurled enough to notice the woman standing behind me. His nose twitched and he growled softly.

"No, Moony," I said gently but firmly. "This is Claire. Remember her?" He looked at me almost doubtfully, but fell silent.

"You seem to have him well controlled," Claire commented. "He listens quite well for a feral —"

"Don't!" I snapped, cutting her off. "He's not feral. He's just—confused. We're here so I can help him find his way back."

She looked surprised. "How long has he been like this?"

I laughed bitterly. "Not even twenty-four hours." A quick glance at my watch made me shake my head in disbelief. "Exactly twenty-four hours ago, we were sitting in a pub having a butterbeer and discussing whether the Montrose Magpies had a chance in hell of having a winning season this year."

She put her index finger beneath her chin and regarded my friend thoughtfully. "How long have you been lovers, then?"

I felt my jaw drop. Over the years, there had been many people who had suggested or accused or teased James, Remus, and me of being lovers—any two of us or all three of us altogether. I hadn't expected the question from someone miles and months away from my time at Hogwarts.

She read the dumbfounded expression on my face and covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, pardon! I thought..." She shrugged. "It is not often that a feral werewolf accepts someone so quickly unless they are a mated pair."

My eyebrows rose, but I ignored the hated "f" description for the sake of clarifying the issue. "No, we're not—involved like that. We're just friends. Best friends, but nothing more."

She looked again at Remus and then at me. Then she seemed to come to a decision. She leaned over and laid a graceful hand on mine and asked, "Is he convinced of that?"

"Moony?" My voice rose in volume and pitch until it cracked.

The werewolf in question actually tilted his head in canine questioning.

"Stop that," I told him waspishly.

She giggled and pulled her hand away. "No matter. Now I've made you uncomfortable. My apologies."

"No, it's... fine," I said weakly. I looked deeply into the golden eyes. Was there more than friendship in Remus' gaze? How could I tell?

The woman from the French Ministère seemed eager to put the misunderstanding aside. "I am much too forward, Monsieur Black. I cannot seem to learn to be more cautious with my words. Please, think nothing of what I said. I do not know either of you enough to assume… a relationship."

I tried to laugh it away, but I know it sounded forced and harsh. "That's alright. I should be honoured, I suppose. Remus, well, not as you see him here, is one hell of a mate, er, friend. I could do worse."

She took the opportunity to change the subject and we then went downstairs to look at the cellar. She offered to magically strengthen any foundation supports and cast some preliminary cushioning and silencing spells that I would be able to raise easily when the time came. When she finished, she apologised again for her presumption and then left.

I was grateful for her help; I had my hands full with getting Moony to the loo and then with finding something for him to do while I prepared dinner. I finally left him in the front room, seated on one of the wide windowsills, looking out on the golden fields.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Remus was busy concentrating on handling his utensils; I was pondering Claire's words.

Remus had told us from the time that we were very young that he had no intention of ever getting married, and so there would be no point in dating anyone. We teased him unmercifully about being a eunuch; that is, until he threatened to make eunuchs of us. But, I could remember when he had fallen for Lily Evans in our fifth year. He had done nothing about it, firstly, because of his own resolution; and secondly, because James had already announced he was going to marry Lily himself and Remus wouldn't have dreamed of interfering. Eventually, the wistful glances in the redhead's direction stopped, and his eyes would light up with appreciation at the sight of other beautiful girls. But I knew there were times he would occasionally sneak looks at handsome boys. So, I knew it wasn't impossible that he might find me attractive.

As for me...

I'd had lovers of both sexes. I'd been attracted to girls from the beginning and I was curious about boys. Once I discovered the pleasures of being with another boy, it opened my world to all kinds of possibilities. James would often say I'd shag anyone or anything at anytime. That wasn't true. I never had dared consider my close friends: Peter, Remus, or James. Friendships could be destroyed over sex, and I had no desire to ruin our group by acting on any attraction to James or Remus that I might have had. Peter just was not my type at all, and I never even thought of him as a potential partner. James was ardently, undeniably heterosexual. He was also the brother that I wish I'd had. It would have been incestuous to even think about a sexual relationship with him. Remus, however...

A soft whine interrupted my reverie and I realised that I had been staring at Moony for several minutes—and he had noticed.

"Moony, do you have feelings for me?" I asked, leaning my cheek against my fist and looking deeply into those unnatural golden eyes.

For several heartbeats, neither one of us moved, transfixed by each other's eyes. But before I could determine whether Claire knew what she was talking about, I heard the bell at the front door ring.

"Hold that thought, Moony," I said hoarsely. "And stay." He started to rise, but I pushed him gently back into the chair and held my hand up in front of his face. "Stay," I said more emphatically. His eyebrows lowered, trying to work out what I wanted. I knew he still wasn't sure, but the bell rang again and I had to go answer it and trust that he'd understand.

A flurry of French greeted me as I opened the door and beheld a small, hump-backed man with his grizzled hair covered by a black beret. Beside him was a girl of maybe sixteen, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles. She was the one who had been speaking.

"Could you repeat that?" I asked in French.

Certainly, she could. She, Francesca, and her grandfather, Robert, owned a small farm less than a kilometre down the road. They sold milk and eggs, as well as butter and cheese. Would I be interested in having them deliver fresh dairy products every morning?

A quick discussion and bartering session got us fresh milk and eggs each day, butter and cheese every other day, and fresh vegetables whenever possible. Her uncle, the local butcher, could provide us with whatever meat we would require. As we were finishing our negotiations, Francesca's attention drifted to a point over my shoulder. I turned and saw Remus peering around the corner.

"Is that your brother?" Francesca asked. "He does not look much like you."

"He's not my brother," I replied.

"Is he your lover, then?" The girl's blue eyes twinkled with curiosity.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. What was in the bloody air that everyone thought we were lovers? "No, we're not lovers," I said with a loud exhalation, "though everyone seems to want us to be. We're just friends. He's—ill. We've come here so he can recover."

Robert muttered something about the Camargue being a good place to recover—except for the mosquitoes. Or at least, I thought he meant mosquitoes. It wasn't the kind of word I had used in my French lessons, lessons that had focussed on business, etiquette, and courting, not on entomology. I actually found myself wanting to snicker at the thought of learning the word for the purposes of courting: "Oh, mademoiselle, you're such a beautiful mosquito, sucking my cock like that."

No, mosquito was not a word I'd learned from my tutor.

Francesca looked again at Remus and then eyed me from head to toe. "You would look good together," she opined. Next to her, Robert muttered for her to shut up and stop making a fool of herself. She shrugged unrepentantly. "We'll leave your things here by the door in the morning," she told me. "When you finish the milk, leave the empty bottle here so we can wash and reuse it, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed.

Before they left, Francesca told me she'd tell Madame Pincard that we needed bread and cake on a daily basis. As I had no idea who Madame Pincard was or where she lived, I thanked Francesca for making the arrangements. She nodded in satisfaction and then looped her arm through her grandfather's and led him off down the road.

Remus crept closer to the door as I shut it. "This is turning out to be an interesting day, Moony," I said with a sigh.

He yipped in what I could only call agreement.

My voice echoed in the tiled room as I grumbled, "Whenever you come to your senses, I hope you remember this. Or maybe it'd be better if you didn't."

Remus just glared at me.

"And we will be swearing some kind of blood oath that we will not be telling anyone about this."

He growled.

"I hope you're agreeing with me."

The bastard raised one corner of his lip, revealing teeth.

"Fine," I snapped, fumbling to unbutton my shirt.

Remus the prefect, Remus the Gryffindor, Remus the human had been rather partial to being clean. He even admitted to me once that he was a bit girly about liking a long soak in a tub with a book, a bottle of butterbeer, and several Warming Charms.

Remus the bloody damned wolf, on the other hand...

"Why can't you just make things a little bit easier?" I demanded. "After all I'm doing for you, a little gratitude and a little cooperation would go a long way, you know."

He cocked his head to the side, watching my fingers.

"Don't even think about getting cheeky with me," I warned him as slid the shirt off my shoulders and onto the floor. I undid the fly of my jeans and shimmied out of them and my pants at the same time, finally turning to look at Remus.

"Your turn."

I couldn't help but squirm a bit at his scrutiny. What was worse: certain parts of my body began to react to his intense gaze as well.

"Moony," I said sharply, making his eyes snap back up to meet mine. "Your shirt," I said, reaching out to tug at the fabric. He looked down at it and then at me, helplessness in every line of his face.

"Here." I stepped closer to him and began to unbutton his shirt, starting with the one at the top—where I could see his pulse thumping erratically beneath his skin.

There is something so raw and sensual about undressing another person. Even though my intention was nothing more than to get Remus into the shower, I couldn't help but respond to his closeness and the warmth of his breath on my skin. I tried not to notice the broad shoulders, tried not to care about the lightly muscled chest that was covered with scars.

Don't think about it. I can't think about it. This is Moony. He's one of my best friends. He's not even in his right mind.

But then he leaned closer to me so that his nose was near my ear and I could hear his deep inhalation. I knew what he was sensing, because I could smell it too: sweat, muskiness—arousal.

"Moony," I said, cursing inwardly at the tremor in my voice. "Here. You try."

I stepped back and tugged at the last button to be undone. There was a fleeting look of frustration on his face as he turned his attention to the task at hand. Nimble fingers made short work of it and of the button on his own trousers.

"Push 'em down," I told him, miming the action of hooking my fingers in a waistband and pushing down.

His erection came free and I couldn't help but stare. Yes, I'd seen Remus naked at school, but never like this. Despite myself and the situation, I felt a groan rising from deep within me, probably from the general location of my own groin.

"Fuck, Moony."

There was no way we were going to get through a shower. No conceivable way.

Think of Quidditch. Think of Hagrid. Think of Hagrid playing Quidditch. Think of Dumbledore. Think of hippogriffs. Think of anything but how you want to take advantage of one of your best friends. The one who isn't in his right mind, at that!

I turned and concentrated on turning the faucets until the water was comfortable and then pulled Remus over toward the tub. This is where things had gone badly before. He'd seen the spray of water and had backed away quickly, not wanting to get any closer than he had to. It was a good thing I'd closed the bathroom door before starting this little endeavour or he'd have been halfway back to Arles by now.

"It's just water, Moony. Just water." I reached in, let the water splash my hand and then rubbed it down my other arm. "See?" Again I reached in, got my hand wet and then slowly leaned over to lightly touch his arm. "You'll love this."

I stepped into the shower, hoping that he'd follow where he wouldn't be pushed, and pulled the ugly pink shower curtain mostly closed.

I let the water cascade over me, revelling in the feel of it. I hadn't showered since before the fight the night before—Gods, was it only last night?—and I could still feel the griminess.

I peered around the edge of the pink plastic and grinned at Remus. "Alright, Moony, you've wasted enough time," I stepped slightly to the side and motioned for him to come closer. He did take one hesitant step forward. I swiped a flannel over the soap and began running it down my arms. "Nothing to it, mate," I said, encouragingly. I proceeded to then ignore him in favour of my own ablutions, but soon I became aware of the shadow against the shower curtain.

"If you don't get in here soon, I'm going to start singing," I warned him. If there was any kind of human memory still working inside that skull, surely it would remember how and what I sang in the shower. I took a peek at him and was pleased to see that he looked both disgusted and confused, as if he vaguely could recall something unpleasant.

I stretched my hand out toward him, letting water drip onto the bathroom floor, but didn't say another word.

After an interminable moment, he finally grabbed my fingers with his own and let me pull him into the shower.

His eyes widened at the warm spray, but soon he relaxed under it and let me push and prod him into a more convenient spot. I helped him wash his arms and his chest while I thought of Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy and other assorted Death Eaters. Undressing someone was sensual. Showering with them was torture, especially when I was trying so desperately hard not to get hard.

It all fell to pieces when I got to his legs. I took a flannel down one of my legs and up on the inside, then paused to get around my bits. "Just like that, Moony," I said, my voice raspy with restraint.

I swear the bastard smiled at me as he scrubbed at one leg, then the other, his eyes on me as if seeking approval. Then he wrapped the cloth around his cock and twisted slightly. His eyes closed involuntarily and he made a noise deep in his throat that I almost echoed. When he opened his eyes again, there was surprise among the gold, as if he hadn't known that kind of pleasure could come from such a simple motion. He did it again, his eyes fastened on mine.

I wanted to turn my back on him. I wanted to ignore what he was doing.

"I knew this was a bad idea," I whispered. Unfortunately, my prick didn't seem to agree. Remus' long fingers were finding a slow, exploratory rhythm that suited him and I found my own hand following his pace on my own erection. I let my thumb brush over the head and gasped slightly at the feeling.

Clever Remus, who had been following my motions, my instructions, almost my every move for the past twenty-four hours, dropped the flannel and, with curiosity burning in his eyes, reached out and wrapped his fingers around mine.

"Remus, this is a bad—" I couldn't finish the sentence, because he was stroking my fingers gently until our digits were entwined. He tugged and I had no choice—I had to follow along with the motion: up to the end of my cock and then back, slowly at first and then with slightly more pressure and speed.

His eyes were bright and they burned with a fiery intensity that completely overwhelmed and almost frightened me. And yet, it also created a conflagration within me that blazed so hot and fierce that, when it exploded throughout my body a moment later, it sent white stars flashing behind my closed eyelids.

Then, over the sound of my own panting gasps for air, I heard the whine. I knew it was a subtle reminder of the pressure that Remus was feeling. I forced my eyes open and saw the pleading in his eyes. Impulsively, I leaned over and touched my lips to his.

I'd kissed him carelessly before—several times, actually. This, however, was something completely different. At first, he was tense, his lips tight across his teeth from tension, discomfort, and uncertainty. But as I sucked on his bottom lip with enough force to bring it lightly between my teeth, I gently wrapped my fingers around his hot, pulsing cock.

He whined deep in his throat, but I wouldn't let him go. My lips worked against his, wanting more, demanding more. Clumsily, he responded, unable to coordinate my firm tugs of his prick with the hungry open-mouthed kisses we soon were sharing.

He made a sound and I knew what was coming—and then he did.

I pulled him to me, and we rested our heads on each other's shoulders.

"Fuck, Moony," I whispered. "If I'd known I was missing that, I'd have thrown aside my 'Don't shag your friends' rule a long time ago."

Regret will set in, you realise....

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