Disclaimer: Harry Potter, all places and characters, the names etcetera belongs to Mrs J.K Rowling, her publishers (such as Bloomsbury Publishing Plc and Scholastic), and Warner Brothers™. All rights reserved. This is not meant as theft or insult—I wrote it for the enjoyment myself, and (hopefully) of other people. No copyright infringement is intended. I own the stories themselves.
Additional Warnings: Slash.
Author's Note: Happy Birthday, Amanda!
Rating: PG-13
Word count: Total: 6,639 words. This piece: 2,174 words.

Part II

Equally cluelessly and innocently as an innocent child, Remus gazed up towards the entrance of the kitchen, surprised by the sudden appearance. He saw Sirius standing there, awoke though dishevelled, clad only in a pair of boxers; apparently, he had just left bed.

'Oh, morning, Sirius,' he smiled broadly. 'Come down here and I'll get you some coffee. I know you need it.' He reached over the table, retrieving one of the mugs and started to fill it with the hot, black liquid. But as he turned around, Remus realized Sirius had not left the stair case at all: he was still standing on top of it, looking down on the old-fashioned kitchen, bewilderment written all over his face.

'Sirius …?' Remus asked uncertainly, putting the steaming mug down on the table. 'Sirius … What's wrong?'

Remus approached his lover, wanting to find out what his lover's concern was, though it was not until he had climbed three steps of the flight of stairs Sirius spoke.

'Do you have any idea how worried I've been?'

'What … what are you talking about?' Remus asked, climbing yet another step.

'I thought you'd been captured by the Death Eaters. When you weren't next to me in bed, it seemed like you were gone! I … I thought you had been captured by the Death Eaters!'

Remus made a motion to go up to Sirius, hug him, tell him not to worry, that everything was fine. But he could not bring himself to it; shocked by the things Sirius was telling him, he was too overwhelmed to move.

'And now, now I just found you here, down in the kitchen. No, don't come near me!' Sirius bellowed. 'I don't want to see you! I'm out of here,' he said, and ran out of the kitchen, into the hallway.

'No!' Remus yelled, skidding up the stairs speedily. 'Please, don't do this, Sirius! I'm sorry I scared you, but you can't run away! Please stop! Please!'

But Sirius was not in the hallway—though an enormous, black was standing on its shins, trying to open the door with its paws.

'NO! Please no, Sirius, please! I'm so sorry!'

It was too late; Sirius was already outside the house. When Remus got to the door to look for him, Sirius was—neither in his human nor in his animal form—nowhere to be seen.

Remus returned to the kitchen, took out his wand, sweeping it over the kitchen removing everything on the table but his mug of tea, his appetite having faded away on an instant. Asking himself what could have hurt Sirius so much, Remus watched uninterestedly as the pot of porridge emptied itself in the dustbin, cleaning itself in the sink.

The morning passed. Remus decided to spend it with the Daily Prophet, though the more he read of the newspaper, the more his dislike grew: the editorial, for instance, seemed to investigate Harrys alleged insanity yet one more time. On page three, the headline 'All is well—why we shouldn't trust Dumbledore' was written in large fonts—and, reading the byline, he realized the debate article was written by none other than the Minister of Magic himself.

Remus continued to read the paper, though he could not focus properly. Not that it mattered—the Prophet hardly wrote anything of importance any longer—but he was restless and worried, deeply regretting what he had done this morning. He could not think of anything but his lover, and missing him hurt so much he had to make an effort not to fall down on his knees, screaming in agony.

He hated himself for deciding to get up earlier than usual this morning: he should have foreseen this. He should have awoken Sirius, told him everything was fine, and then he could have made him breakfast without Sirius worrying about his whereabouts. That way, Sirius would have been there with him; he would be there right now, and they would do something completely different than reading the newspaper—they would say good-bye to each other in a quite appropriate way. Things would simply not be like this. By this time, Remus and Sirius would probably have enjoyed a long and cosy breakfast, then they would kiss … they would have gone out of the kitchen, going up to Sirius' room … Remus could vividly imagine Sirius and himself freeing each other of their dressing gowns …

And this would not happen—Remus had ruined it all.

#¤#

He had made lunch for two.

It had been in vain, Sirius had never shown up, but Remus had saved all the food that was left uneaten (which was most of it, his appetite had not returned) to Sirius, preserving it with a cooling charm.

A few hours later, Remus was sitting in the living room with a nice cup of tea. He had one simple mug of tea only—not a cake, he felt not for it; he was not even in mood for chocolate, he was too depressed. He only wanted Sirius to come back. Remus had brought Sirius' cushion from their joint bedroom just so that he could smell it (the cushion carried Sirius' scent), and that actually soothed him a little. Though he still missed Sirius, and could not stop thinking of him—Remus now missed his lover so much it pained in his chest. As much as he hated the thought, Remus could not help but thinking of the fact he would be leaving once again in less than twenty-four hours. And, if Sirius had not returned by then, they would not be able to say good bye, instead leaving them with this conflict as their final conversation …

Remus resolutely finished his tea; setting his cup down at the saucer and went out to the kitchen. It was time to swallow his pride: he needed to contact Dumbledore. Surely Dumbledore knew of a solution to this—Dumbledore normally had a solution for most problems.

He put his cup and saucer down at the bottom of the sink, tapped them with his wand, and watched as the dish brush cleaned them, and as they soared to the plate rack, still trying to postpone the bitter moment of confession. He turned around to face the fireplace, resolutely taking a fistful of Floo powder, clearing his throat, throwing the silvery powder into the fire with a determined mind, then clearly said, 'The Office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts!'

The flames instantly flared, turning into a shade of emerald green. Remus leant forwards and stuck his head into the fire, the cool and tickling sensation sending out goose pimples all over his body. Suddenly, everything began to spin: it seemed like Remus was in some kind of vacuum; soon, he found himself looking at Dumbledore's office. Luckily, it was, apart from Dumbledore himself, empty—though the Headmaster was staring at the opposite wall, his back turned towards the fireplace, and, consequently, Remus.

'Er …Professor Dumbledore?' Remus began uncertainly, but the man could not hear him. 'Professor?' he tried once more, but this attempt was, also, fruitless.

Remus sighed, looking around in the circle-shaped office, before shouting the man's name yet one more time. 'Professor Dumbledore!'

It was not until that moment the Headmaster reacted: he stopped humming, and turned around, his face expressing confusion for half a minute, apparently looking for the source of the sound; then, looking down at the fireplace, he smiled broadly.

'Oh, is it you Remus? What a pleasant surprise! Of what reason do you honour me by seeking to speak to me on this wonderful afternoon?'

'It is Sirius,' Remus mumbled, looking down at the floor in front of the fireplace. 'We … um … we had an argument this morning and he left. I tried to follow him, but I was in the kitchen at the time, and he was on top of the stairs leading down to it. When I had climbed half of the stairs, I heard the front door slam. I tried to hurry to go out an look for him, but when I went outside I couldn't see him, he'd probably already Apparated away when I came out … It's my entire fault!'

'You say he left this morning?' Professor Dumbledore asked, looking incrediously concerned.

Remus nodded.

'At what time, more exactly, do you think he left the Headquarters?'

'Around half past seven, I think … Maybe seven forty-five, I don't know really … I'd say between seven thirty and eight.'

'So he has been missing for eight hours, give or take?'

'Yes,' Remus mumbled.

'What did you argue about?'

'We … Is that really your business?'

'It might be easier to find him if I know where he went,' Dumbledore smiled. 'And besides, it might be easier for you, really, to handle this situation if you spoke about it to somebody.'

'I'd think I'd rather not –'

'Then I suggest you do not talk to someone, my dear Remus—it was merely a suggestion.'

Remus looked up at Dumbledore, who was sporting a faint smile, which would soon change into a stern expression.

'I encourage you not to leave the house; we need someone there in case Sirius returns. Contact me as soon as you can if he does. I will see to that someone will go look for him. Try to relax now, staying there is really the best thing you can do at the moment. Good bye; I hope the rest of the afternoon will be pleasant for you.'

'But … but wait!'

'Yes?' Professor Dumbledore looked questioningly at Remus.

'What if Sirius doesn't return before I leave tomorrow?'

'In that case, I suppose I will have to ask someone else to live at the Headquarters until he returns.'

'Oh.' Remus had half-hoped Dumbledore would let him off the mission and stay until Sirius returned. Then they would have some more time together …

'Though you ought not to worry,' said Dumbledore. 'I will send one of our best at it. Perhaps Kingsley, he is supposed looking for him already.' His eyes were twinkling now again. 'I intend on sending Fawkes as soon as I receive any news. I suppose you share any update about this matter with me instantly?'

'Of course, Professor. Thank you.'

'And, yes. There is one more thing I would like to say to you.' The Headmaster looked stern once again. 'I do not know for how long it is safe to use the Floo network for this kind of communication, Remus. Send me a Patronus if you need to contact me, I will send you Fawkes. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Professor.'

'Good,' said Professor Dumbledore simply, and Remus realized the conversation was over.

Remus withdrew his head of the fireplace and sat down on the floor; he had no idea of what to do next. He could not go looking for Sirius—it would not work, and someone needed to remain at the Headquarters in case Sirius came to his senses and return: that was pure logic, Dumbledore was right on that matter. Besides, Remus had absolutely no idea of Sirius' present whereabouts, so it would be highly irrational to go out looking for him. He could practically have Apparated anywhere it the world. It made much more sense to put this in the hands of Kingsley, or another expert. And if Sirius returned to and empty house, no one would know he was home, and—hopefully—unscathed.

The remainder of the afternoon passed slower than syrup passes through a straw. Remus spent a great part of it staring into the fire of the kitchen, and reading a book on defensive spells in the living room—though, as in the matter of the newspaper, he could not focus, the text seemed to float through his brain; he was unable to grasp it. When the clock had passed five, he decided to make dinner: he needed something practical to do, and if Sirius would come home, he probably would have eaten nothing—even the Muggles thought he was a dangerous convict, so he could not really go to a Muggle restaurant.

He set his mind on making Sirius' favourite meal: meat loaf.

Remus carefully inspected the potatoes after he had magically peeled them; he made them fly into the pot of boiling water on the stove, adding some salt. Then, he sat down once again, staring into the wall.

He had tried to settle down with books throughout the afternoon, but it had not been possible, for whichever book he began to read, he could not focus on it for more then ten minutes, then he got tired and put it aside. An hour later, he went out to the hallway, sat down, and stared at the door.

This was not what he had been expecting.

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