Finding Home

(the sequel to "No Better Mistake")

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, or any other related characters from the world of Harry Potter. I also don't own the setting, plot lines, relationships, etc. ANYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING, not me.

NOTES:

More, more, moreee. I'm glad you guys didn't mind my OC (although she's not a big deal), because there's another OC coming up! Thanks, thanks, thanks for all your feedback. Now that I have time (I'm at home) I'm going to try and respond to reviews and all of that.

Here comes some drama!

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5

"So, it just happened?" Sirius asked, grinning at Remus over dinner that night. In honor of Sirius' first day, Remus had attempted to cook the easiest thing he knew how—pasta—and the two were sitting side-by-side at the dinner table, enjoying the substantial, even if somewhat overcooked, noodles. Remus was telling him of the apparent gain of a job, something that neither of them had anticipated would happen so quickly, nor in such an ideal location

"Yep," said Remus, taking a gulp of the wine—another treat—he'd purchased after leaving Doris' bookshop. Finally, he was becoming more used to the taste, and although he still didn't like it as much as Sirius, he had finally managed to figure out to drink without being drunk. "But, enough about that," he said, impatiently, "what about you? How was the Ministry?"

"Kind of boring for now, actually," admitted Sirius. He had been home scarcely a quarter of an hour, just long enough to badly cut up a salad for Remus' pasta, but already he was stripped down to his t-shirt, the tie and button-down he'd worn earlier than day strewn over their living room couch. "A lot of people talking to us, some paperwork and stuff. There's about a dozen in the group."

"So did they tell you what you're in for?" Remus asked, intrigued. Sirius shrugged.

"The test you've got to take to become an Auror—it's all going to be preparing for that. Kind of like practical lessons, that's why they'll be having us do; all sorts of stuff. Charms, disguises, you name it."

"Sounds pretty serious," said Remus without thinking, and he instantly regretted as the other boy immediately said: "No, I'm Sirius—"

Remus retaliated by throwing a noodle at him, which Sirius delicately picked off his chest and ate. He rolled his eyes. In so many ways, Sirius was the incredibly sexy man he had fallen for, but in others, he was just like the eleven-year-old Remus had first met. However, he balanced his moment of immaturity by leaning across the table and kissing Remus, using a hand to softly grasp his chin and cheek.

"What was that for?" Remus asked as they broke apart, letting himself feel the five o'clock shadow that now graced Sirius' jaw line. Their kitchen smelled like an old mix of tomato sauce and cigarette smoke that had floated in through the open window, negating Remus' insistence that if Sirius were going to continuing smoking, it had to be outside. Sirius shrugged again. Startled, Remus realized, very swiftly, how old they had very suddenly becoming. Although it seemed like only yesterday that they had sat in Potions class, flicking ingredients at the back of Snape's head, now they were adults, with jobs, and a house. Even Sirius, after only a day of real work, looked somewhat tired. Inches away from his face, Remus could see his own reflection in Sirius' steel gray eyes, but he let his eyelids fall down as he kissed Sirius again, this time relishing the taste of Sirius' mouth, the feeling of their lips brushing together. When they broke apart for the second time, Sirius was smiling again, and, to Remus' relief, he looked no older than he had a year, or even a few weeks ago.

"You were right, too, about the whole professional thing," he told Remus, turning, once more, to his plate of pasta, Remus doing the same. "I felt like a prat this morning, but it was fine."

"I'm glad," Remus responded. Looking over, he could tell Sirius was no longer interested in dinner, and, if he were honest with himself, neither was he. He stood up from the table, and, with a wave of his wand, cast the unfinished plates into the sink.

"What's up?" Sirius asked, a grinning crossing his face as he stood up with Remus, who, without hesitation, leaned in to kiss him for the third time in only a few minutes. He was quickly pulled tightly in, the gaps between their hips closing, and he could feel Sirius' smile—as well as another important part of his anatomy—grow as they continued to embrace.

"I love you," said Remus easily, and Sirius' grin increased further.

"You going to make up for teasing me this morning?" growled Sirius, eyes shut, his lips still against Remus', who laughed, pulling himself away and dragging Sirius, by the hand, onto the living room couch.

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The next morning followed very similarly to the one before it, but although Sirius was much more reluctant to actually wake, he didn't complain as he, once again, was forced to shave his face and don nicer clothing. He was attempting to make scrambled eggs from the groceries Remus had purchased as Remus quickly bathed, so that by the time he got downstairs, hair still dripping, there was a crude, but edible plate before him.

"I'm impressed," said Remus, stifling a yawn as he picked up his fork. Sirius grinned at him from across the kitchen, clearly proud of his accomplishment. Setting down the spatula and pan, he walked quickly over to Remus, checking his watch.

"I'm glad you like them," he said, "could you do this, please?" he was gesturing to the tie around his neck, leaning over the table as Remus reached up to adjust it. It was a common routine between the two of them, and Remus, despite being tired, smiled as he remembered the most memorable occasion that Sirius had asked him to do so, just before their confession…

"Could you help me with this? I'm rubbish at tying them…" Sirius gestured to the striped tie that hung limply around his neck, and Remus moved forward to grasp the fabric. Suddenly, the frantic rush to get ready stopped. Time froze as Sirius squatted slightly on his long legs to allow him better access, and carefully, Remus made the knots around Sirius' neck. His nose was inches away from the boy's jaw line, who smelled like shaving cream, and recognizable cologne. He was aware of Sirius' soft, minty breath that was fluttering his hair away from his forehead, but he resolutely ignored it, and finished the tie before backing away from his friend, his heart skipping a beat…

It seemed that Sirius was also recalling this moment, as he was grinning as Remus muttered, "seven years, Padfoot, and you still can't tie a tie…?"

"Nope," Sirius kissed him quickly, then checked his watch once more, "I've got to go," he said, hastily shoving his feet into the shoes that stood in the corner of the room. "Good luck, today!" he added, casting a final glance at Remus before he turned on the spot and vanished.

With a final look at his scrambled eggs, Remus followed suit, grabbing his things and vanishing too, off for his first day of work.

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Sirius struggled to regain his balance as he Apparated directly into the Ministry. The last thing he needed, he thought ruefully, was someone to see him stumble first thing in the morning. It was bad enough being in his situation at his new job, he didn't need to cause himself any more embarrassment…

Sirius hadn't been completely honest with Remus about what had happened the day before. True, there had been a lot of boring paperwork, and a lot of discussion of the months to come—but what he hadn't mentioned to his boyfriend was the very obvious isolation of himself amongst the group. The Blacks were an extremely prominent, though rather evil, wizarding family, who donated a great amount to many Ministry departments yearly, and though they had tried to keep their eldest son's betrayal a secret, word had gotten around. Sirius felt as though he might have been walking about with "traitor" tattooed across his forehead—higher-up officials looked down upon him, knowing his differences from his family, and other wizards and witches look after him curiously, the looks they exchanged saying, clearly, that they could see why this grungy, long-haired boy had been exiled from such an important group. Sirius, who had always had James to back him up, and their ever-present pranks to make him relatable and popular, suddenly found himself in a situation where being a clown would get him nowhere. He was more aware than ever of how different he was in a group such as the interns. It was obvious that a great majority of them had gotten into the job through money; obvious by the clothes they wore, and by the way they had looked down at Sirius' battered shoes as if they were covered in dragon dung. Suddenly, Sirius wasn't the handsome, easy-going friend at Hogwarts—he was a moneyless, dirty-looking little boy, and it was clear to everyone that he didn't fit in. It was true that Sirius was intelligent—and the actual Aurors didn't seem to care about his past, or his money—but for now, without James or Remus there to relate too, he was shocked to find himself as the black sheep of the group, more desperate that he cared to admit to anyone to fit in.

Still, Sirius was never one to let anyone see him sweat, and he knew all too well the power of a good attitude—so he fixed a smile on his face as he strode across the Ministry floor, nodding a hello at anyone who looked his way. He was more thankful than ever at Remus' insistence that he shave his face, or wear a tie even though it wasn't technically required—but as he climbed onto the elevator with several other members of his class, he found his hands nervously pulling at the tight knot around his neck. He breathed in deeply, checking his watch again—the watch, he remembered gratefully, had been a gift from James and his parents, the dark, purple tie a present from Remus when he'd found out he'd gotten the job. These articles of clothing reassured him somewhat, but he still found his fingers pulling at the strangling garment.

A young man, looking to be about the same age as Sirius, grinned at him from his left side. He was one of the obviously rich interns—his thick, blonde hair was sleek, and cut just short enough; and he too was dressed professionally, though he didn't seem to be having the discomfort that Sirius was.

"Your tie?" he asked, by way of a question, and Sirius nodded. He—though he knew it was probably just paranoia—felt like all eyes in the small elevator were looking his way. "My girlfriend always ties them too tight for me."

Avoiding the gaze of the other eyes he was sure was upon him, Sirius turned to look at the boy beside him. He had seen him, yesterday, fail miserably at producing a full Patronus, and yet, for some reason, he still felt an urge to relate to him. He was a loud figure of the class, easily recognizable, broad-shouldered and thick—more than ever, Sirius felt skinny and dark beside him. He cleared his throat, smiling at him.

"Yeah," he said, responding quickly, "my girlfriend always does, too."

o o O O o o O O o o O O o o

dun dun DUHHHH! LIES, SIRIUS... LIES!

oh, I almost forgot!

The "surprise" is this: you all know I'm already done with this story, so...

I'm writing a third.

I'm sure it's not a shock, but I'm sure excited!