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.

YES HE WAS ALRIGHT

Sirius pretended that he wasn't listening, wasn't waiting. He wondered what time it was: he'd be better off at work, maybe he could still manage a half day. He stopped eating, feeling sick. He heard silence. It was driving him mad now, not knowing whether that was the silence of a Silencing Charm or the silence of nothing going on. He couldn't understand it. It was bad enough all those nameless men - some of them middle-aged even - but how could Remus fancy Regulus?

Then he heard the scream of agony and he knew that he'd been listening to nothing. He was half-way up the stairs before he wondered what he would find, whether he was going to be intruding, but he threw open the door anyway.

Regulus was thrashing and screaming, Remus, standing next to the bed, looked to be in shock. He turned wide eyes up to Sirius, shaking slightly.

"Get a Pain-numbing Potion!" Sirius screamed at him, grabbing his brother's shoulders, trying to judge what was wrong.

"No point!" Regulus ground through closed teeth. His face was in constant movement, closing in on itself. "Don't work," he hissed. Sweat shone all over his grey skin. With a violent twitch he came free of Sirius' grip. Sirius caught a flailing hand and held it between both of his own. He sat down on the bed, determined to be there even if there was nothing else he could do.

He felt Remus standing behind him, heard his ragged breathing occasionally, although most of the time the only thing any of them heard was Regulus' agonised screaming. Regulus' left arm worked its way free of the blankets and it flipped over.

Remus made an "Oh" sound at the moment they both realised what it was that was torturing the young man in the bed. The Dark Mark was no longer a static tattoo. It writhed and smoked, changing colour from black to green to red. Around it, the soft pale skin bruised, puckered, oozed pus and flaked off.

Remus reached over Sirius' shoulder and took hold of Regulus' left hand, clasping it in the way Sirius already clasped the right. They both kept their attention fixed on Regulus' face and attempted to whisper soothing coos through the demented screeches for as long as they lasted. Afterwards, none of them could have told how long that was. Time had lost meaning. All they knew was the relief when the intensity of the sounds began to wane and finally the suffering calmed.

Regulus looked up at the two men sitting on the bed with him. There was still a tension in the skin round his eyes, but he managed to force a smile as he looked from one concerned face to the other.

"Thanks," he panted. "I've tried potions and spells and there's nothing powerful enough." He peered at Remus, then smiled slightly to himself and murmured, "It is you. Thought it might be you."

Remus, staring at the skin of the lower left arm as it slowly faded and stilled, asked, "What does it mean?"

"Means he's got a spare moment. Might as well spend it tormenting me. Punishment. Guess he's the only one can work through the Mark. Or he'd have a minion on it full time. Won't be for long. They'll kill me soon."

"He?" Sirius checked, already pretty sure of the answer.

"Not Be Named," Regulus confirmed, resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes. He was biting his lower lip, but the only sound he made now was regular, controlled breathing.

Sirius took a deep breath himself. He sat up straight, but kept hold of his brother's hand. He would wait for Regulus to be the one to pull away. He looked up at the window, but the curtains were drawn. There was nothing to see. He spotted the breakfast tray on the chest of drawers.

"Don't suppose you're hungry now," he said.

"Starving," was the surprising answer.

Remus leapt off the bed, glad of something to do, and started to cast warming charms on the food and drinks. Regulus opened his eyes and watched, then grinned at his big brother, pulling his hand back and sitting himself up.

"Can't stay long," he said. "I'll draw them here, endanger you two. Eat and leave."

"Pretty much what you said last night," Sirius scoffed, standing up.

Regulus accepted his breakfast from Remus and tucked in, answering, "Thanks for the sleep and eat and drink and bath. Better able to face it. But I am going to leave within the hour."

"It's cold out," Sirius warned.

"We've got great wards, and DADA skills …" Remus added.

Sirius interrupted, "Told him all that last night."

When Regulus had finished with it, Sirius took the tray from him and went downstairs. Splashing water and chinking crockery could be heard in the bedroom. Remus looked at Regulus' raw-skinned left arm.

"Still hurts, doesn't it?" he asked.

Regulus nodded curtly. "All the time. Just have to take my mind off it." He reached a hand up to Remus' chin and held his head still. He stared at Remus' face, his eyes roaming over all the features, drinking them in. "That should do it," he said with a strange smile.

With a knowing look, Remus pointed to the door with his wand. As it closed and various charms wrapped themselves round its edges, he leaned down to the younger man and, staring into his eyes, said, "I think we can do better than that."

He dropped his wand to the floor and took Regulus' pale face in his hands. He had just a moment to register the surprise, the pleasure and the need there, before pressing their mouths together.

Regulus kissed back hard, thrusting his tongue into Remus' mouth, scraping his teeth across Remus' lips. Remus ran his hand down the thin neck, across the bony shoulders and down his chest, undoing buttons, removing the hindrance of fabric. Regulus muttered against his mouth, "Never thought I'd ever again …"

Regulus' torso was covered in welts and scratches, some of the red marks looked like human bite marks. Where he wasn't bruised or lacerated, his skin was almost transparent. But his shape was much the same as it had been when he had swayed gracefully and confidently on that little stage in that little pub. His body hair was still dark and curled and from the mass of it at his groin rose his swollen, purple cock. Remus lay down next to him.

He was hard now too and he pushed against Regulus' thigh as he brought their mouths back together. His hands ran over bare flesh, one hand caressing everywhere, the other homing in on the stiff, warm flesh that thrust up into his touch. Strong arms gripped his sides and he was lifted onto the naked body. Butterfly kisses nipped down his cheek and Regulus murmured again, "Never thought I'd ever again …" before sinking his teeth into Remus' neck.

Heat rose between them as they ground into each other. Remus undid his own trousers and Regulus pushed up his sweater. There was something about the scrabbling of fingernails at his sides that Remus wasn't used to. But then, Remus wasn't used to doing this lying down in a bed, let alone his own bed. He ignored his misgivings.

The mouth that had been working on his neck pulled away, there was a rush of air and his sweater was pulled right off. Then: "Salazar! I just fell out with the Dark Lord, what's your excuse?"

Remus grabbed the sweater to his scarred chest. He never took his top off, that was what was wrong. He got off the bed, crossed the room. It was being at home, being comfortable, that was what had lulled him into forgetting. He never took his top off.

"No!"

He ignored Regulus' cry behind him and strode to the door. He'd just transformed, his skin was in bits. What had he been thinking? He hadn't even had a chance to have a proper look himself, didn't know how bad it was this month. It was always bad though. He had felt the aches this morning, he'd bashed into some big things while he was a wolf. He zipped up his trousers, reached for the door handle.

Strong hands took hold of his upper arms and pulled him back against a hard chest.

"I'm sorry," Regulus whispered, "no questions, no lies. Shouldn't have said anything. Sorry. Come back. I need this. My last time, please. I want to be with someone beautiful for my last time. Want you."

The grip lessened and arms wrapped gently round Remus' waist. Remus didn't move away, but he didn't lean into the other body either. Regulus brought his mouth right up to Remus' ear, letting his breath and his tongue play over the sensitive cartilage as he spoke:

"You've been so good to me. I love the feel of you. Like last time. One of my favourite memories. Don't go. I'll be good. Won't ask. Need you."

Downstairs, Sirius was pacing, listening and trying to find anything else to do. He could just leave, go for a walk, go to the pub. He didn't dare, though. What if Regulus got tortured by his Mark again? What if a band of Death Eaters broke in to kill him? What if it was all a ploy and he was still one of them and he was going to attack Remus? What if that was what he was doing now, under cover of the Silencing Charm?

The washing up was done, the surfaces wiped and Sirius had cleaned the stove for the first time. He had picked up the Prophet, but his eyes wouldn't stay on the page. He strode across the small room and back again. If only he knew something about gardening. All he knew was how to mow the lawn and that would be daft in January. He tried not to think about what might be going on upstairs. He couldn't manage to think about anything else. He couldn't understand it.

He threw himself back onto the lumpy couch and his head tipped back of its own accord. He found himself looking at the ceiling. He tried not to watch it, tried not to look for signs that plaster was dropping, that the floor above it was bouncing up and down. He didn't want to know what they were doing. He just couldn't understand how Remus could fancy Regulus.

Remus had some strange capacity for finding men attractive, apparently found all men attractive enough to fuck. Except one.

In his frustration, Sirius held his head in his hands and said it out loud, "How can he fancy Regulus, and not me?"