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.

FROM SHADOWS TO WATCH THIS CREATURE FAIR

The winter sun glared low, bounced off frost, straight through the window and onto Sirius' sensitive eyelids. He couldn't remember going to bed, nor why he hadn't closed the curtains. He felt as though all moisture had been leeched from his body and his throat had been filled with Bowtruckles; he tried to open his eyes, but there was some form of burning hex in them.

He groaned and tried to sit up, but a bolt of pain shot through his head and his stomach tried to regurgitate itself.

"You're supposed to be at work," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

"Moony?" Sirius croaked. "No. You're not here, you've gone to thingy's doodad."

"I came back. It's mid-morning. Why aren't you at work?"

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. It was a terrible job and he didn't care if he lost it. He was the cleaner at the central Owl Office, which meant spending all day directing brooms towards owl droppings. He had only taken it in the hopes that one of his mother's friends would find out and she would be mortified. It was even more boring than he had expected.

"It's OK, I Owled in sick for you. You want some Hangover Potion?"

Sirius tried nodding, but it hurt too much. He felt the mattress sink as Remus sat on it and blindly thrust out a hand. A cool flask was pressed into it.

After a few sips he was able to croak, "Thanks. For telling work. And the potion." He cautiously peeled his eyes open, sipped again and asked, "How was Godric's Hollow? How they doing?"

"It was OK. Prongs ran with me. Usual bruises this morning. You should see Lily, she looks like she swallowed Slughorn! Baby won't be long now. He can kick some, too. Strong. James reckons it's his fist not his foot and he's catching snitches!"

"Like to see them," Sirius muttered. He was a better colour now. He looked like he might not throw up.

Remus let him finish the flask, paused to let the potion fully take effect, then judged the time was right.

"You got me a treat?"

Sirius looked at him, confused.

Remus reworded, "You left something tasty in my bed?"

Remembrance and realisation crept amusingly over Sirius' face, followed by a wariness.

"Ah! No!" he explained, "No, that's Regulus --"

"I know who it is."

"He's left the Death Eaters. He's on the run. I didn't think you'd mind."

"I certainly don't mind."

"Moony!" Sirius reprimanded.

Remus shrugged and donned an innocent expression. "What?"

"Fuck's sake don't try anything on with him." Sirius winced as he swallowed down the dregs of the potion and missed his friend's petulant expression. "He wouldn't appreciate it," he added, lying back with his eyes closed.

"Well he did last time!" Remus snapped.

Sirius flung back the covers and leapt from the bed. "Fuck! Lupin! Is there anyone you haven't had?" he yelled. He paused briefly as they both realised that he was fully dressed, right down to the shoes. Then he stomped angrily down the stairs.

Remus bit his lip regretfully. Then he changed his mind. He decided that actually he didn't regret copping off with Regulus and therefore he didn't regret telling Sirius about it and that his housemate was the one with the problem. He let his own fury propel him down to the ground floor where he found Sirius frowning and pacing.

"Oh, look!" Remus began coldly, "It's the very modern Sirius Orion Black. He's so tolerant and liberal that he doesn't even have a problem with his housemate being queer," he let the rage cut through the sarcasm as he shouted: "just as long as he doesn't actually have sex with any men!"

"I don't have a problem with you screwing any men!" the dark-haired man shouted back. "I just don't see why you have to screw EVERY man!"

They stood still, glaring at each other for a moment, before Sirius sank down onto a kitchen chair and asked, in a flat voice, "When?"

"When we went to see his band play," Remus replied, annoyed at himself for feeling ashamed again.

Sirius stared at him, then turned to the wall to ask, "How long was that - what, a year? - before you told us you into blokes?"

"More like eight months."

"So my Dark-loving, Muggle-hating, Death-Eating brother knew a whole year before your best friends did?"

"It wasn't like that." Remus moved into the kitchen, trying to occupy himself by emptying the fridge into a frying pan. "I didn't exactly have to make a thought-out declaration --"

"I think he might have worked it out," Sirius cut him off with a sneer.

There was a tense silence during which Sirius laid his arms out on the table and rested his head on them, while Remus crashed about with teacups and utensils.

Sirius muttered without raising his head, "So that means my baby brother's bent too?"

"I would say so," Remus replied tersely.

"You know him better than I do, then," Sirius stated, sounding sorry for himself.

Remus cracked eggs into a saucepan and waved his wand over them, before folding his arms and staring out of the window. "Look, I told you I'd been with a couple of men. I had to make sure. I had to get my own head round it. I didn't know how you lot were going to take it."

Sirius rubbed his hands over his face as he said, "You didn't trust us."

"Well, look how Wormtail's been. We've hardly seen him since."

"That's not why. It's me he doesn't like." Sirius sniffed. "Smells good."

"Well, you never bother to eat properly when I'm not here. I'll take him up some."

"He's been sleeping rough. Hiding out. They're going to kill him."

Sirius finally stirred himself to do something useful: getting out cutlery, brown sauce and juice. He set a tray for one and two places at the table. Then he stared fixedly down at what he'd done as he asked, "Wasn't it weird?"

Remus looked over briefly from his plating up, but he couldn't read his friend's expression so he returned to concentrating on his wand, directing the food out of the pans on top of the stove.

"What?" he asked.

Sirius muttered, "Wasn't it weird? I mean, even I can see that he looks like me. I would have thought that it might have been …" he couldn't think of an adequate synonym. "Weird," he repeated.

Remus pretended to be focussing on the flying bacon while he thought up an answer. Eventually he said, "Didn't see much of his face. He had his back to me most of the time."

He levitated one of the full plates onto the place nearest to Sirius, the other two onto the tray.

Chucking a knife and fork from the table onto the tray, Sirius grunted, "Don't forget the silencing charm."

They faced each other as Remus floated the tray towards himself, asking, "What?"

"For the condemned man's last meal," Sirius explained, sitting down with his back to his best friend.

Remus' colour rose with embarrassment. "He might not want to."

"But you're going to offer, right?"

"Yeah," Remus admitted.

Sirius picked up his cutlery. "You should. He deserves it." He stabbed a mushroom. "I just don't want to hear it."

Remus directed the laden tray up the narrow staircase. He opened the door to his bedroom. The curtains were closed and he peered across the darkness at the figure in his bed.

Regulus was still asleep. His steady breathing filled the tiny room. Remus stepped over the threshold. He was changed, but not unrecognisably. The hair was the most noticeable difference. His head was a good shape, though, he could take the closer cut.

Putting the tray down on the floor, Remus moved closer. The shape rising and falling under the blankets seemed thinner. He looked older than he had done in the pub, more than two years older. His skin was dry, flaking slightly under the nose. There was a puffiness around his eyes and his cheeks were more hollow. He was still beautiful, though, Remus decided, as he crept over to the bed. The skin was the same alabaster white as it had been on stage. Remus realised with a jolt that he had been wearing makeup then and he wasn't now.

As the werewolf watched him, a deep crease appeared in the middle of Regulus' forehead and his face collapsed into an expression of intense agony.