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...

A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. --- Albert Einstein

Was I wrong? Had I taken advantage of him? Was I taking advantage of the situation? Things were usually clear to me: right or wrong, black or white. But this... I hadn't intended for this to happen. It had been purely instinctive. Remus had been aching for completion, though, and it wouldn't have been fair to me to leave him like that.

At least, that's what I told myself as I paced through the house that night, a cup of tea long gone cold in my hand.

"It was just a mutual wank," I whispered. It was good, my mind immediately added.

I couldn't help but feel that maybe I'd done something wrong. An immature voice in my head wanted to poke a finger in Remus' direction and say, "He started it!" But I—the one who had full control of my wits and my identity—had allowed it to happen. I had enjoyed it every bit as much as he had, and I couldn't deny that.

I stood in front of one of the windows in the living room to watch the swollen moon rise above the treetops. The fact that Remus had been so sexually curious—almost aggressively so— could now be explained. The full moon took its toll on him, taking him from libidinous to depressed to openly hostile and back again within a matter of hours, minutes sometimes. I was surprised that I hadn't remembered, but, of course, I'd had other things on my mind.

I carried my half-filled cup of tea back into the kitchen. After the full moon, things would go back to normal. Or as normal as they could possibly be, considering my friend had the mind of a wolf. I'd keep my hands to myself and concentrate on bringing Remus back to himself.

I'll be damned if I didn't feel disappointed at the thought of not touching him again.

The next morning, when I went to check on Remus, he was still sleeping. I cancelled the warning charm on his doorway and went downstairs to start breakfast.

The smell of bacon and eggs didn't rouse him, so I went back upstairs to his room. He was curled in a ball with his arms over his head as if he were trying to keep it from bursting and I recognised the signs immediately. It was a common occurrence a day or two before the full moon, those terrible headaches of Remus', so I fetched a pain potion and a flannel that I charmed to stay cold.

I sat beside his bed in that turquoise room for a long time, combing my fingers through his hair and thinking more about what had happened the night before. I reckoned I should have been glad that he'd been horny and not violent the night before. It wouldn't have gone well for me.

I left him sleeping heavily and tiptoed downstairs.

For the rest of that day and the next, Remus either slept or sat in the back garden. The elongated roof sloped down from the back of the house until it stopped about two metres from the ground. The covered area was paved with smooth, flat stones, and furnished with a small table and two chairs. I sat with him, pouring out glasses of wine and reading aloud from a book about magical creatures that I knew he'd been reading recently. He crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down on them, keeping his eyes on me as I read. It was disconcerting at first to see and feel those amber eyes resting upon me, to know he was listening but not understanding a single word. It seemed to soothe him, however, so I read until my throat was sore. And then I read some more until it was time to lock ourselves in the cellar.

The morning after the full moon, Alastor Moody showed up at the door a mere fifteen minutes after I'd helped Remus to bed.

"How did it go?" he asked gruffly.

I gestured for him to follow me back to the kitchen. "It went well. Certainly better than I could have expected."

"It might be because the wolf is in control now and doesn't have to fight the human part of him as hard."

I shrugged, too tired to give it more thought than that. "That's as reasonable an excuse as any, I suppose."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box which he enlarged. "Bones sent you some more of those memory potions and there are several pain potions and healing potions in there," he said. "There are three Calming Draughts as well."

I nodded my thanks and put the case in one of the cabinets. "If you could get us a few Headache Remedies—strong ones—that would be good."

He nodded and then stared deeply into the coffee I'd poured for him. "Is he getting any better?" he asked finally.

"I suppose it all depends on what you mean by 'better'." I paused to yawn. "Does he remember how to talk and read yet? No. But he trusts me more and he's getting good at copying things that I do." I lifted my mug to my lips then reconsidered my words. "He's getting very good at it, actually."

"You realise there's only so much you're going to be able to do," Moody said. "While his mind is taken over by the wolf's, you're not going to get him to talk or read."

"How do you know? You probably didn't think I'd be able to get him to use a fork."

"Black, you've got to think realistically about this."

"You haven't seen what we've accomplished in just a few days."

"No, I haven't. But it's one thing to teach an animal to copy what you do, it's quite—"

"Remus isn't an animal!" I protested loudly and fiercely, my irritation starting to give way to something darker.

"For all intents and purposes, in his mind, he is!" Moody shot back. "Language to him is growls and howling. Books are just things you hold in your hand."

"He likes to listen to them," I snapped before I could stop myself.

"He likes the sound of your voice, more like," Moody corrected me. Then he sighed. "Look, Black, I know he's one of your best mates, and you're trying to make the best of this, but you have to be practical. If he doesn't get his mind back, you'll have to always treat him like a wolf. He's never going to talk. He's never going to read. Wolves can't do that."

"Neither can children, but we teach them."

Moody sighed. "You're setting yourself up for disappointment."

I leaned against the counter, horrified at the realisation that suddenly washed through me. "You don't believe he's going to get better."

"I just think you need to be prepared in case he doesn't."

"He is doing better," I said emphatically.

"He's doing things you've taught him, but he's not remembering things," Moody pointed out. "What are you going to do if he never remembers? Are you going to stay with him until one of you dies?"

I was taken aback at the question. I hadn't stopped to consider where my responsibility might take me, because I had always assumed Remus would get better. "I don't know," I finally admitted reluctantly.

The Auror clasped his hands together tightly. "You know it would kill him to be living like this."

I chose to respond only to the literal meaning of his words and looked around the kitchen. "I don't know. It's not a bad place..."

"He wouldn't want to burden you with the wolf."

"He's not a burden!" I protested vehemently.

"Will you say that in a year? Will you say that in five or ten?" Moody asked quietly. "People who have to care for loved ones who have mental disabilities get tired and frustrated when they have to do it for a long time."

"What are you trying to do here, Moody?" I asked, with a bitter, almost hysterical chuckle. "Are you trying to make me walk away from him? Are you trying to make me want to give up?"

"No," he said sadly. "I'm just telling you that you should consider your options, should things come to it."

"I made a commitment—" I started to say.

"He wouldn't expect you to honour a commitment that you made without fully knowing—"

"Don't tell me what Remus would expect or wouldn't expect!" I shouted, my anger finally erupting. "You don't know shit about what or how he thinks!"

"I'm right and you know it."

Moody's firm declaration made me shut up for a moment. The truth was, Remus wouldn't want to live like the wolf. He wouldn't want to burden us, because he already barely let us do anything for him. He had gone for two days with little more than a few handfuls of pub pretzels once rather than admit to us he had nothing in his fridge at home. The thought of taking up my time and my attention for the long term would be repulsive to him.

"Edgar Bones has done more research," Moody finally said quietly. "If Lupin doesn't recover his memories in six months, he's not going to."

I did some quick figuring. "By March, then."

The Auror nodded and then took a deep breath. "Come April, if he's no better—" he paused, "I'll take care of him, if you'd like."

My entire body went cold and I leaned on the back of the nearest chair. "Take care of him—how?"

Moody just stared meaningfully at me.

"You're not going to kill him?" I whispered, shocked.

"Put him out of his misery, more like," Moody conceded.

"But he's not miserable," I protested.

"If he was in his right mind, he would be."

"You can't!" I gasped. My chest was tight and I couldn't breathe.

The older man seemed to notice my distress. He got up and came over to me, using one hand on my bicep to steer me into a chair. For several minutes, I sat there, trying to collect my thoughts and my breath.

"I won't let you do that," I said shakily. "You can't kill Remus."

He sat back down in the chair across from me. "Let me ask you just one question. You don't even have to answer it. Not yet. But think about this: if April comes, and there's no chance of recovery for Lupin and the Order needs you — Potter and Evans and Pettigrew need you—are you going to refuse them for the sake of a lost cause?"

"You're not a lost cause," I muttered later as I unwrapped the bandage that was wound around Remus' arm. "Moody's a bloody idiot."

Remus yelped as I jostled him roughly in my frustration.

"Sorry." I apologised as I dipped my fingers into a jar of healing salve. "But it makes me sick to my stomach to think of what he wants to do to you."

I slathered the creamy substance on the wound on his bicep, pausing to push his inquisitive nose out of the way. "Stop that."

He whined and I sighed. If Moody would see us now, it wouldn't help Remus' case.

"It makes me even sicker to think that he thinks I'll agree with him," I said gruffly. I carefully rewound the bandage around his arm and secured the end with a Sticking charm. "There you go, Moony. All done. There's no need to thank me," I added as he tilted his head to regard my work.

As I prepared to stand up, however, Remus' hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, preventing me from doing so. "Moony—"

Amber eyes met mine and I recognised the gleam that had been there the night we had showered together. The thought of what we'd done—and that he might want it again—made the air whoosh out of my lungs and I felt a stirring in my belly that started to sink lower.

"We're on the other side of the moon," I said to him. "You shouldn't be feeling like this now."

I didn't know what my excuse was for wanting to grab him and snog him within an inch of his life, though. Instead, I contented myself with skimming my fingers up his arm and then letting them comb through the hair above his ear.

His eyes closed and I heard a contented sigh. It was an easy thing to push him over onto his back where I hovered indecisively over him. Should I? Should I not? We'd already done something I'd sworn I would never do.

"In for a Sickle, in for a Knut," I mumbled as I leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

I felt his hand graze my thigh and settle on my hip. I choked back a moan thinking about those fingers on my skin. Bracing myself with one hand, I let the other hand stroke up his bare stomach and his chest, then down his left arm where the bandage was wrapped.

I pulled myself away, but it was difficult to do so. Remus whimpered, reaching for me, but I pushed his hands back down.

"We can't, Moony," I said. "Not now. You need your rest and you need to finish recovering."

He allowed me to tuck him in as if he understood what I was telling him. In all probability, he might have felt worse than what I thought. By the way that he fell asleep almost immediately while I rubbed his back, I had a feeling it was the latter.

I sat watching him sleep for almost an hour.

Remus and I easily fell into a routine. We'd have breakfast while I'd read the newspaper aloud. Moony still didn't understand the words, but he would listen intently. It was unchartered territory through which I was travelling. Remus was always the one who read the newspapers at home, summarising the most interesting articles for us. Sometimes, when he was feeling especially clever, he would mix two stories together to see if we would notice. The one in which he combined an Auror raid with the wedding of Lucius Malfoy to my cousin, Narcissa, was one of my favourites.

After breakfast, I'd do some tidying up while Remus sat in his favourite spot in one of the windows in the front room. He'd sit contentedly for an hour or two, watching the birds and wildlife. The Camargue, I learned, was an area popular for raising horses and bulls for bullfighting. It wasn't unusual to see the white horses and black cattle thundering across the fields.

We'd eat a light lunch and then, weather permitting, we'd go exploring. We walked in all directions, exploring marshlands and forests. The Camargue was a sanctuary for birds of all kinds and even as the weather got colder, there were still many different kinds for us to watch and enjoy. There were also magical creatures and birds there in the sanctuary: dugbogs, Augureys, and Snidgets thrived in the marshes alongside the storks and flamingos. Remus had always enjoyed learning about magical creatures; if he'd been at all himself, we'd have been finding and taming kelpies.

In the late afternoon, we'd go home and eat dinner. After that, we might have some wine or tea while I read out of one of Remus' books until it was time for our showers.

That was the most difficult time of our day. I would start the water and he would undress, his eyes on me while he did. I'd wait until he climbed into the shower and then I would leave. Sometimes, however, he would grab my wrist, stopping me from walking toward the door. If I said firmly, "No, Moony," he would let me go. Disappointment would shine in his eyes—and stab deeply in my gut.

But there were nights when I couldn't resist the tug on my arm to pull me into the shower. Those were the nights when the lustful glow in his eyes couldn't be denied. Those were the nights when our hands would slide over our wet bodies and our mouths would crash together in want and need. We would come with howls and wordless cries of completion.

Thanks to those carefree days and uninhibited nights, I soon had to admit that it was impossible to refuse him—and I had no intention of even trying.

He was flourishing there in our small cottage in France. I was becoming a decent cook—as long as I kept our meals simple. Francesca was a fabulous source for new recipes. It only took a week or two before I realised that Remus was gaining weight. I'd been able to count his ribs the night we'd arrived. Now he was filling out so he didn't look quite so skeletal. I couldn't help but notice how his hair was lightening from the time he spent in the sun and his skin was gaining a healthier glow. It made me want to touch him more to see if he was as warm as he looked. He was.

The biggest change was something unexpected. I never realised before how his worry had permanently manifested itself in his countenance. I never knew how pinched and tense he had always been—even from our first year of school—until I saw him strolling through the marshes, face flushed with the wind and exercise. He'd always looked older, worn out, even when he was twelve. Now he looked younger than me. His skin wasn't pulled as tightly across his cheekbones; the line of his jaw was softened. He was completely relaxed. He was free from worry and pain and war. He also didn't have the worries of getting and keeping a job.

He was happy.

It was a paradox that left me restless and wakeful deep into the night. In his struggle to prove himself every bit as human as the next man, Remus was unhappy and stressed. He feared and hated the wolf inside him that prohibited him from having a job, a home, and a family of his own. Now that the only thing left to him was the wolf, he had no cares about any of those things.

After seeing this firsthand, I knew Moody was right when he'd said that Remus would hate living like the wolf, but it wasn't because he'd hate burdening us with his care. He'd hate the fact that the wolf was able to accomplish things that he could never have.

He'd be jealous —pea green with it, as a matter of fact—that the wolf was allowed to feel and act and do things that Remus the man would never have allowed. He'd been forced by society to close himself off emotionally for the sake of self-preservation. He held his emotions tightly in check until we all worried that he'd strangle himself with them.

But now...

I saw the eyes that danced with happiness when we raced across the fields and ran across the slippery dikes that marked the edges of the marshes. Remus the human would have suppressed some of his joy, thinking it unseemly and wrong to be happy when our friends were fighting a terrible battle at home.

I saw the uninhibited grin—never the sardonic half-smile that accompanied his most self-loathing comments—that lit up his face when I turned into Padfoot and chased him through the trees.

After I'd knocked him to the ground, I'd lie beside him with my doggy chin on his chest as he stroked my ears and ruff with unaccustomed tenderness. I would feel his chest rise and fall with deep sighs of contentment as he did.

I saw Remus as no one else had ever seen him—except for maybe his parents before he had been bitten.

I had accepted a responsibility only to find that it was a gift.

Thunder crashed, bringing me to full awareness instantly. Not even a minute later, lightning lit up the bedroom, and thunder followed immediately on its heels.

Before I could wonder if Remus was awake, he howled, the sound dragging me out of my bed and to his room before the echo of it died away.

He was sitting with his back against the wall, staring at the window, but the look on his face when I came into the room told me that I'd misunderstood his howl. I'd thought he was frightened, but the next flash of lightning showed me there was something more like triumph in his eyes.

Remus had always liked storms. In an unguarded moment, he'd confessed to me that the clashing thunder and fierce lightning were like a heavenly representation of what was inside of him; that things were so much at odds within his heart and mind that he understood why the lightning blazed so brightly and hot and the thunder had to crash so loudly and frighteningly.

He was revelling in it now, throwing back his head again and howling when the thunder next rumbled across the sky. This is what he wanted to do every time he heard a thunderstorm—and now finally had the freedom to do.

And he had never been so beautiful.

I couldn't have stopped myself if I'd even thought about it. I sat down on the bed and reached out to touch his bare shoulder, half-expecting an electric shock. His body was vibrating, thumping with a pulsating power that made me gasp.

His right hand came up and covered mine and then slowly slid up my arm. I closed my eyes as the backs of his fingers went up the side of my neck.

"Fuck, Remus," I whispered as the fingers then stroked my jaw and cheekbone, sending chills up and down my spine.

He growled softly and I felt the mattress move as he slid closer to me. And then his mouth covered mine, and I felt lightning in my veins, streaking through my blood.

I pushed him backwards until I was lying on top of him, our hips crashing and sliding together erratically, desperate to find heat and friction and pleasure.

My fingers traced his scars and then I lowered my lips to follow. He whined in frustration as my hardness slipped down and away from his, but I think he forgave me when I shoved his pyjama bottoms down and then sucked his length into my mouth.

He groaned—the most human sound I'd heard him make in a weeks—and I smiled around his cock before dragging my tongue up along the underside and then around the tip. If he were capable of speaking—and speaking coherently—I knew he'd be mumbling, "Gods, Padfoot!" So I did it again. This time, I wiggled my tongue into the slit and he growled even louder.

I pushed my own pants down and began tugging at my own cock while I continued to suck his. His fingers tangled painfully in my hair as my head bobbed up and down, trying to take in a little more each time.

Suddenly, I felt his body spasm and I barely had time to prepare myself for the saltiness that filled my mouth, nearly gagging me with the force and the volume.

He stilled and then I heard him whimper slightly.

I slid up along his body then pressed my mouth against his. I knew he could smell and taste himself and he groaned again. The sound went straight to my still-erect and throbbing dick.

I could have made it easy on him and gotten myself off, but I wanted him, and as much of him as I could get. I grabbed his hand and placed it on my cock. His eyes snapped open and then he curled his fingers and tugged sharply.

I yelped and then shuddered at the absolutely predatory look in his eyes. And then he leaned forward to lick the shell of my ear as his fingers lightly brushed over the turgid flesh between my legs.

"Gods, Moony, where did you learn to tease like that?" I groaned as his thumb brushed my sac.

He growled in response and his tongue lapped at my neck. I involuntarily thrust my hips forward, making my shaft slide through his fingers and he stopped.

"Oh, gods, Moony, please—" I gasped, my eyes clenched tightly shut.

And then I felt his hot breath on the head of my cock. He swiped at it with his tongue a couple of times and then slowly worked his mouth down an inch at a time until he had taken all he could. It was tentative, and it seemed like his tongue and teeth were all over the place. It should have been painful, but I was too far gone to care. Remus was giving me head, sucking me off. Remus would never have thought of doing such a thing two months ago. Hell, he wasn't capable of thought now. This was pure instinct and need and desire.

We shouldn't have been there. I had promised that I would never ask for this from Remus. And yet, here he was, between my legs, with my cock in his mouth. His hands with those gloriously long fingers were touching me in places that were driving my pleasure higher and higher until I was swearing loudly, unable to bear another minute.

He growled deep in his throat and the vibration of it made me shatter, calling his name as I did. As the pieces settled back into place, Remus slithered up and pressed himself against me, flinging one arm possessively across my chest.

Thunderstorms would always remind me of that night: the night I affirmed to myself that I wasn't going to be content with just being Remus' friend.

"James is going to kill me, you know," I said to Remus the next morning.

He looked up from his attempt to butter his toast and his eyebrows lowered as though he were considering my words.

"He warned me away from you once," I told him. "And I was just teasing you about finding your scars sexy. Remember? He said our friendship was too valuable to sacrifice on a quick shag. I promised him I wouldn't fuck you or fuck with you."

I reached over to grab the last sausage from the serving dish and put it on his plate. "So, the question is: will you remember this all when your memory returns? And if you do, what will you say?"

The questions had kept me awake all night long.

"This is a fine bloody time for me to grow a conscience, Moony," I said with a sigh. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, and going down on you is not exactly the kind of care that anyone had in mind."

I ate a piece of toast slowly, thoughtfully, as he fought with the jam.

"The full moon is in five nights," I commented. "Can I blame this on the full moon?"

He looked up and our eyes met.

I felt something twist slowly in the pit of my stomach—but it wasn't my breakfast. It was something that then spread lava-like throughout my body: hot, molten, and flowing.

I stood up and leaned over the table toward him. He set the jam down and lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

I cupped his chin in my hand and then gently drew his lips up to meet mine, watching the gold eyes glow as our kiss deepened. I let my eyelids close so I could concentrate on the feel of his lips beneath mine and his stubble-roughened skin under my hand.

"I want you, Moony," I whispered. "How could I want you so badly after all this time? It doesn't even make sense."

He didn't have anything to say. Instead, he began to nuzzle and nip at my neck, pushing my robe aside so he could get to my chest. I grabbed his hand and stepped away from the table, letting my eyes speak for me.

He grinned wolfishly and raced me up the steps to his bedroom.

Our daily routine didn't change much, except we added frequent kisses and groping and the occasional blow job to the list of things to do.

Moody made another visit two weeks after the next full moon to check on Remus' progress and bring us more supplies. He brought me a letter from James that was full of insignificant pieces of gossip and concern about Remus.

He also brought me a mission of sorts from Dumbledore.

"Dear Sirius,
Some documents have fallen into my possession that require translation. James said he remembers seeing some rune translation texts in Remus' private library. Would you be willing to do the translations until such time as Remus will be able to take on the task? I seem to remember that you did very well in Runes."

Of course, he remembered I did well. Anyone who had been at Hogwarts in our last year would remember. Remus and I had battled fiercely for the top marks in that class, but in the end, we had worked together to translate a document that our professor, Skallagrimson, had claimed was impossible for NEWTs level students to decipher. To celebrate our triumph in decoding the thing, Remus and I changed the writing on the Slytherins' homework in Potions so that it was written in Welsh Runes. As Slughorn was too lazy to be buggered to translate the assignments and was even less inclined to find the counter-spell to change the words back to their original form, the green-and-silver Snakes had to redo their essays.

"Where are these documents that Dumbledore is talking about?" I asked Moody, using an Incendio on the message.

Moody pulled a small box the size of a matchbox out of his pocket. A quick tap of his wand brought it to its full size, which was as about eighteen inches long, ten inches wide and four inches thick. He placed it on the table, saying, "He said they're numbered in the order that they need to be translated."

I nodded, noting that there were seven scrolls in the box, each tied closed with a ribbon and numbered carefully in green ink. I started to untie the black strands, but Moody suddenly reached over and slapped his hand over mine. Startled, I jerked my eyes up to meet his.

"Before you start on that, we have a couple of things we need to talk about."

Slowly, I sat back in my chair. I fingered my wand, readying myself to blast him if he so much as mentioned the possibility that Remus might not get better.

"The Death Eaters are starting to attack the Order members' homes," he said gruffly. "Benjy Fenwick just barely escaped a week ago when they showed up at three in the morning and burned his house to the ground."

Before I could respond, he went on. "Potter won't have told you in that letter—he didn't want me to tell you at all, actually—but he and Evans were attacked a couple of nights ago. They got out in plenty of time, though Potter has a nasty burn on his thigh. Two attacks in one week tell me this is getting personal."

"You've always said it would get to that," I pointed out, probably surprising him that I'd paid that much attention to his words.

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "I didn't think they'd start this quickly, though."

I started to reach for the scroll again, but Moody's next comment halted my arm's movement.

"They sent Regulus to ask Dumbledore where you've been."

I inhaled sharply. I hadn't spoken to my brother for over a year. My Sorting into Gryffindor had caused all kinds of trouble with my parents during my first year at Hogwarts, but at least Regulus had still talked to me. His Sorting into Slytherin the following year had been the first nail in the coffin of our relationship. Pressure from our Houses and our parents grew until we were no longer talking to or confiding in one another.

I had always regretted it, but hadn't known what to do. He revelled in the attention that my parents were bestowing upon him because he was following their philosophy. In one of the last conversations I'd had with him, I'd accused him of taking the Dark Mark. He'd denied it—but he'd flushed and refused to look me in the eye. I knew then that, while he might not have been taken on as a Death Eater yet, it was a matter of time until he would be. We'd ended up duelling in a corridor at Hogwarts. I'd won but I hadn't found any satisfaction in it. What little trust he might have had in me had disappeared for good. We never spoke after that; instead, we slung insults at one another.

"He's been told he has to find out where you are at 'any cost'," Moody continued.

"Shite," I got up and began pacing the length of the room. "Why are they involving him in this?"

"Because, as a student at Hogwarts, he's the only one close enough to Dumbledore to ask. Can you imagine if your father suddenly showed up at Hogwarts and asked where you were?"

"Why do they care?" I asked. "For fuck's sake, it's not like they're going to invite me for Sunday dinner."

"Your disappearance has stirred them up."

I stopped moving and leaned against the counter. "Why? I'm nothing," I protested.

Moody shrugged. "You should know why."

"Oh, hell, I'm not bright enough to work that out," I said disgustedly.

"Alright, I'll tell you. You are a Black. You know a lot of secrets about your family. I doubt any of your family members are all that pleased that you're one of us. They know what you can tell us—and they don't know what you haven't. If you're not seen fighting against them, they don't know where you are or what kind of mischief you could be plotting against them.

"Your absence, in other words, is making them nervous."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Surely they know I've spilt all the secrets that I can think of already."

"Ah, but there could be just one more secret, one more piece of information that you'll suddenly remember."

"So, what do they think I can still spill my guts over that's so important?"

"That, I'm not sure of," Moody admitted with more than a bit of disgust. "But I'm going—Humping Hippogriffs!"

It was at that moment that Remus had suddenly prowled into the kitchen. He eyed Moody with suspicion as he made his way around the table toward me, making certain that he stayed as far away from the older man as possible. Moody also kept his eyes on Remus, his astonishment plain to anyone who would look.

"Bloody hell, Black," Moody whispered. "He's an effing wolf!"

"Well, yes, but you knew..."

"No, look at him!"

I did and didn't see anything different to what I'd seen for the past two months.

"He's more wolf than man," Moody said. "If I didn't already know he was a werewolf, I'd know just by looking at him."

Remus was now standing next to me, his shoulders hunched, causing him to lean forward. His knees were slightly bent, his weight on the balls of his feet—every inch of him from his shoulders to his fingertips, from his back to his toes, instantly made me think of a wolf ready to spring at any provocation.

I gripped his bicep. "Moony, no," I snapped.

He didn't take his eyes away from the Auror.

Moody stood up and a growl rumbled in Remus' chest.

"Ah, hell," I groaned. "Moody, don't antagonise him!"

But the Auror didn't listen. Or rather, he kept coming, though he did approach cautiously, trying not to make any sudden or abrupt movements that would startle Remus. The werewolf's growl crescendoed and I whispered, "Hush, Moony! He's not going to hurt you."

Remus tensed, almost to the point of trembling, as the older man stopped directly in front of him. Moody held his empty hands out, palms up, and said quietly, "Good lad, Lupin."

A few more whispered reassurances from me made Remus relax his stance, though not his guard. Glaring amber eyes met bright blue, but then Moody deliberately looked away.

"He's filled out a good bit," he said softly, sounding strangely awed. "He looks better than I've ever seen him."

I couldn't help the bitterness or the hint of smug satisfaction in my tone when I said, "I know."

Remus edged closer to me and put his hand almost possessively on my arm.

Moody's sharp gaze pierced me. He knew of my sexual predilections and, considering how long he'd been an Auror, I knew he was putting together things that might or might not be true with lightning rapidity. I was surprised when he didn't put any of his thoughts into words. Instead, he went back to his chair and started to tell me of the last fight between the Order and the Death Eaters.

"... Malfoy was there, of course, and the Lestranges—all three of 'em. I wish to hell I'd killed old man Lestrange when I had the chance. When I was just out of training, I had to help with an investigation in which he was involved. I had my wand pointed right at his heart." He picked up his wand and brandished it threateningly. "If I'd have known then what I know now, I'd have blasted him to bits and said he drew on me first. That would have saved us the trouble of Rabastan and Rodolphus." He shook his head ruefully, stopping to finish the coffee I'd given him when he'd first arrived. "I'd best be getting back," he said, setting the mug down with a heavy thump.

As the Auror stood up, Remus shifted so that he was slightly in front of me. Moody caught the subtle movement and froze, his good eye narrowing thoughtfully. "Walk me to the door, won't you, Black?" he asked lightly. I wasn't sure if it was a suggestion or an order, but thought I should do it all the same. Moody could be damned scary if you didn't do what he wanted.

"Budge over, Moony," I muttered, pushing past Remus. I squeezed his shoulder gently in reassurance as I did.

"I noticed you don't have any wards up on the house," Moody said as we walked to the front door.

"I thought you and Dumbledore said this place would be impossible to find?"

"Nothing's impossible. Considering how they've started asking about you and attacking everybody else, I want wards up around the place. Soon."

"Yes, sir!" I saluted him.

"You're off your nut, Black," he muttered in disgust.

"It's a lonely life out here with only Remus for company," I said with enough truthfulness that his eyebrows lowered. "No wonder I'm off my nut."

He stood there staring at me for a moment, his eyes flickering once or twice back to Remus. Then he said gruffly, "Look, I wasn't going to say anything, but..." Every time I've heard that phrase, something unpleasant followed, so I braced myself for whatever the Auror was going to say. Remus must have felt my sudden tension, because he started to growl softly.

"I don't know what the two of you are up to, but I can guess," Moody said. "It is lonely out this way, and you're both young and, at this age, too randy by half. Some people are going to look at him and think that fucking him is going to be nigh on bestiality. If it doesn't bother you, fine. But if I were you, I'd stop and consider whether Remus isn't going to be bothered by it."

He gave Moony a last glance and, after a curt nod to me, left.

Moody's remark disturbed me more than I wanted to admit, but it wasn't necessarily because he was accusing me of fucking an animal. I suppose it should have bothered me to wonder what Remus was going to say when he came to his senses. However, he'd forgiven me my stupidity when I sent Severus Snape under the Whomping Willow, so I assumed Remus would forgive me anything. Besides, I was reasonably sure that Moony wouldn't want me if Remus didn't want me, too.

No, what disturbed me the most was Moody's comment that Remus was so far removed from his mind that he was more animal than man. Was he? I spent a good bit of time watching Remus that evening with Moody's cautionary words ringing in my ears. And I didn't like what I saw.

Moody was right. Everything Remus did that night was either something I'd trained him to do or some kind of behaviour that any animal was capable of doing. Eating with a fork? Drinking from a mug? Taking a shower? All taught. I could train a monkey to do the same things. Sitting on the windowsill, moving to sit next to me on the couch? A cat could have done it. Staring at me beseechingly, knowing that my mood had turned stormy and pensive? Pure, unadulterated canine.

"Have I lost you, Remus?" I asked, passing my hand over his head, and then shuddering to think I was stroking him like I'd have stroked a dog. "Have I made things worse?"

I didn't sleep much that night. I was beginning to realise that Remus needed more help than I could provide, and I didn't know where to get the help either one of us needed.

Okay, so regret was short-lived.... I never claimed that Sirius was a saint. He's never claimed so either. :)