DISCLAIMER: J K Rowling thought it all up and now I am playing with some of her characters and situations. David Bowie thought up quite a bit of it, too, including the story and chapter titles and some other sentences and situations.

WARNING: Contains two boys who are barely acquainted in a public convenience starting to do rude things to each other. They are quite young. I'm British and this is set in Britain and the age of Consent here is sixteen. Sorry if you are reading somewhere else with different laws and have a different idea about what age people should be before they have sex. In fact, at the time in which this fic is set, the legal age here for gay male sex was twenty-one. For hets it was sixteen and there was no legislation regarding lesbians. At least it's all the same now. Sometimes there is some progress!

HIS LONG BLACK HAIR, HIS ANIMAL GRACE

Remus moved slowly through the crowded pub. He could see Sirius' long back and tousled black hair ahead of him, but made no effort to catch up. Sirius walked out of the front door without looking round.

Just then the set ended and the audience erupted. They leapt up and down, arms aloft, screaming, stamping and whistling. This was one of the few occasions on which Remus found himself grateful for being shorter than average. Looking back the way he had come, he couldn't see James or Peter any more, meaning that they couldn't see him either. Walking with slightly bent knees - just to be sure - he jostled his way past the busy bar and ducked into the Gents' toilet.

It was small, grimy and smelled of piss. As he had expected. Along the wall to his right were urinals, opposite him were two cubicles and along the left-hand side were the wash hand basins*. On the floor under the basin nearest to the door, he was pleased to see a plastic carrier bag with a navy sweater poking out of it.

There were no mirrors. He could have done with a mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed some fluff off his T-shirt. He positioned himself against the farthest basin and blew into a cupped hand to check his breath (a bit beery but OK). He slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leant back casually, the china hard against his arse.

Through the open door came the loud enthusiasm of the pub's customers. There was the whistle of feedback again. Regulus walked in with his head up and a barely suppressed grin. He glanced briefly at Remus, then turned on both taps and filled the basin nearest to the door. There was gleam of sweat over his shoulders, droplets seeping through the makeup on his forehead and nose. Remus didn't move and pretty soon Regulus looked over at him again.

"Great set," Remus said, trying to make his voice sound deep and sexy.

"Thanks."

Regulus looked down into the water, smiling to himself again. He rolled down the long, blue glove on his right hand, pulled it off and tested the temperature of the water. He dropped the glove into the carrier bag at his feet. Then he looked up at Remus again with a quizzical expression.

"You've got a great voice," purred the werewolf.

"Thanks."

Regulus leant over the water and splashed his face, when he looked up again the eyeliner had started to bleed into the thick, white base coat, giving him the look of a drunken pierrot, without diminishing the handsomeness of his features at all.

"You write the songs?" Remus asked.

"Yeah."

"They're really good and …" Remus paused to give the younger man an unmistakeable look, "you look fantastic."

Regulus' grin widened and he straightened up. He ran his eyes up and down Remus' body, saying, "You don't look too bad yourssss-" he broke off, focussing fully on Remus' face. His voice hardened and he changed to a defensive posture when he added, "Oh, it's you. Is he here?"

Remus looked down at his feet. "He was," he admitted, "but he's gone."

"Did he hate it?"

"How could he hate it? You were brilliant," Remus hedged.

"It's not like I care," Regulus muttered.

He stared into the water, at the white and black eddies swirling through it. There was a moment of indecision, then he kicked the door to the pub closed, before pulling a wand from his left glove and running it over his face. The makeup disappeared and he replaced the wand.

Still staring into the water, he growled, "Why are you here?"

Remus shrugged. His heart was thumping. He hoped it didn't show. Things had been going so well until the Slytherin schoolboy had recognised him.

"Just wanted to congratulate you. You were good, just thought I'd try and find you, tell you that."

Regulus wrenched the plug sharply out of the bottom of the basin, breaking the chain. As the water dropped noisily away, he snapped, "Well you can tell my brother from me --"

"He doesn't know I'm here."

Regulus gave Remus a quiet, appraising look before asking, "What do you want?"

Remus thought that he'd made that blindingly obvious. 'Come on, boy', he thought, 'you know this game.' But maybe he didn't. He was young, after all, two years younger than Remus. Maybe the flirtatious swagger was an act. Remus tried to think back two years.

Regulus straightened up, his gloved left hand on his hip: "Just because I've got long hair and wear make-up, it doesn't mean that I'm queer!"

No, it was his responses before he had recognised him that had told Remus that. The stage outfit had just given him reason to hope, to wonder if it might be worth his while to come back here and try.

Remus made eye contact and held it as he walked towards the door. He was hoping for some sign of regret, and caught it in the younger man's anxious pout. As he passed him, apparently on his way out, Remus stretched out a hand and lightly touched the dark, straight, beyond-shoulder-length hair which shone so black it was almost blue.

"Nice hair," he murmured, quietly and casually.

Regulus swallowed nervously and Remus wondered again how much experience his best friend's little brother had had. "I look after it," he grunted in answer.

Remus didn't withdraw his hand as he asked, "The rest of the band?"

"Putting away the instruments. They don't have a costume to change."

Remus nodded. That was as he had hoped. He moved his hand up closer to the warm scalp. He continued to look into the grey eyes - nearly the same but not quite.

As though reading his thoughts Regulus asserted, "I'm not going to be a substitute." It was in a voice without strength, though, a voice from which all resistance had drained away.

"Of course not. So handsome." Remus' voice was mesmerisingly soft as he ran a thumb over a full lower lip.

Remus leaned forward fast and kissed that lip. Regulus responded at first, then pulled back to hiss, glancing over at the door, "You want to get us beaten up? Arrested?"

Remus grabbed him by the wrists and dragged him into one of the cubicles, muttering, "I'd be the one arrested. I'm the older one."

"Public place!" Regulus reminded him, before he was slammed against the cubicle door and the kiss resumed, Remus sliding shut the lock in the same movement.

Kissing wasn't an arrestable offence, though it would probably get them beaten up. Regulus was clearly intending to take things further, to move on to something illegal. The thought made Remus moan as he ran his hands over the smooth form of the young body against his. Regulus was gripping the back of his neck fiercely, his tongue battling equally, clearly very willing. But he was also still scared. At Remus' moan he broke the kiss again to pant a shushing noise.

Remus fumblingly pulled his wand out of his front jeans pocket and covered them both with a silencing charm. He ran his gaze over pale, even features, ran his hands down toned hips and gasped, "Gorgeous!"

This time it was Regulus who darted his head down and forward and initiated the passionate snog. Their torsos pressed against each other, engorged groins thrusting into each other, hands rubbing and groping. Remus stroked his hands down Regulus' chest, to the stiff waistband of his new jeans, pushed his thumbs under the thick denim, touching bare flesh - hot and soft - Regulus responding with an undulating movement, ran his thumbs round to the front where the button and the zip and the bulge were. He started to work on the fastenings.

"Stop!"

Remus hadn't even noticed the loss of the warm wetness of the other mouth. Startled, he stared at Regulus' flushed, wild-eyed expression. Stop now?

"I have to show you something," Regulus started. Then, haltingly, he forced out, "If it stops you, if we go further, I mean … I don't think I could cope if we were further down the road and it put you off."

"You're gorgeous," Remus tried again, hoping for the same response as before. He knew full well what he wanted Regulus to show him. Everything else was irrelevant.

Then Regulus gently pushed him off and the naked fingers of his right hand plucked at the ends of the gloved ones, releasing each digit from the tight blue satin before pulling off the whole glove. The wand within it made it clatter against the cement floor as it landed. Regulus twisted his arm over, held it up, displayed it.

Remus stared, appalled, at the skull and snake symbol scorched into the young skin.

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*I mean little sinks. Why 'wash hand basins' not 'hand wash basins'? But that's what they're called. By 'tap' I mean what I think Americans call faucets.