Remus did not say much following his unceremonious return to St Godric's. When Peter asked him where he had been, he shrugged and said, "around". James acted as if nothing had happened, treating Remus with the same friendly accord as always. Sirius stuck to his resolution not to say anything to Remus unless Remus spoke to him first, partly because he did not know what he could say to him, other than sorry, which did not seem like enough.

No one spoke to Sirius. Every now and then, James would shoot him an impatient look, as if to say, "Are you going to sort this out or not?" Peter, as usual, followed James's lead and kept his mouth shut. Remus did not seem angry, but he did not speak to Sirius, either. Once or twice, Sirius caught Remus looking at him as if he were a puzzle he was trying to work out. He took pains never to be alone with Sirius, which hurt, but Sirius knew it was no more than he deserved. He had proved he could not be trusted.

The stew of guilt, self-loathing, and loneliness bubbling inside him proved to be the perfect recipe for nightmares. More nights than not, Sirius woke in a cold sweat, his dead brother's name on his lips, and only sometimes managed to go back to sleep. The days that followed dragged by in a haze of exhaustion and guilt.

Sirius thought that he would rather have his hair cut by Madam Pomfrey every month for the rest of his life than carry on feeling as he did. The silence of his roommates became so unbearable that he began using his private study room. He did little studying, but dozed fitfully across his desk, or wallowed in his own misery, imagining that the others were glad to be rid of him.

Sirius tried to take comfort in the knowledge that, even if Remus never spoke to him again, eventually James would crack. They had had their share of fights over the years, many of them worse than the current one, and had always come through with their friendship intact. James was not the grudge-bearing type, and it was rare for his resolve to last more than a week or two. But until his best friend accepted him back into his good graces, Sirius could do little apart from schoolwork and reflecting on his own foolishness.

Saturday came. Sirius spent the morning and part of the afternoon hiding out in his study, but by three o'clock, he could not bear it any longer. Storming into the dormitory, he marched over to his bed and shoved the mattress aside, snatching up the box containing his remaining stash of grass. It might be weeks before he could get more, but that would not stop him getting as high as he could on what he had left.

If there had been anywhere else to go, Sirius would have gone there, but the back of the chapel was the only safe place. He would just have to try not to think about what had happened the last time he was there.

His agitation made the straightforward task of rolling a joint frustratingly difficult, and it took him three attempts to manage it. When at last the calming narcotic filled his lungs, and the smoke curled up into his tormented brain, Sirius almost wept with relief. He breathed in long, slow drags, trying to draw out the moment as long as possible.

When the first one was finished, he sat for long minutes before rolling the next, staring into space and trying to think of only the things he could see - the grey November sky, the brown grass, the rough stones of the chapel wall, the scuff on the toe of his left shoe - and nothing about other people or his own misery. Time slowed, and Sirius began to experience a pleasant, floaty sensation in his head and knees. He was not certain of his ability to stand up, but that was all right, so long as he still had something left to smoke. Perhaps he would stay there all night.

As the light began to fail, however, so did his supply of weed. Sirius peered sorrowfully into the box, and shook the last few bits of green onto a rolling paper with a sigh. He was so preoccupied with the task of lighting up that it was a moment before he realised someone was standing over him, and had quite possibly spoken to him. Slowly, his head tilted back and he looked up, blinking stupidly at an uncomfortable-looking Remus, slouched against the chapel wall with his hands in his pockets.

"Thought you'd be here," said the brown-haired boy. "Can we talk?"

Sirius nodded, and Remus slumped down the wall beside him, staring straight ahead. There was a moment's awkwardness before Sirius realised he was being less than sociable, and passed the joint to Remus. As Remus took a deep drag, Sirius cleared his throat, knowing that he owed it to his friend to admit his guilt before the other boy began leveling accusations at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, eyes fixed on his hands. "So sorry. It was an awful thing to do. And I know you're not queer."

He held his breath, waiting to see whether the other boy would accept his inarticulate apology. Remus had come to him, after all, and it did not seem a very Remus-like thing to do - to smoke the last of his grass and then tell him to fuck off. So maybe -

"No," Remus said at last. He took another long pull at the little twist of paper and blew out a cloud of smoke, still staring straight ahead. "No, I am."

Sirius stared at him, sluggish brain trying to process what he was saying. "You - what?"

"I'm a poof. A shirt-lifter. Like you." Remus took a deep, shaky breath. He looked frightened by his own words. "I've never said it out loud before, but I've known for a long time."

"But I thought -"

"I know." He met Sirius's glassy gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes back to the joint in his hand. "It seemed easier to let you think I was straight, especially after I noticed you noticing me. I was scared of what might happen. That's why I told you about Guernsey. I wanted to scare you off."

Sirius stared. He suddenly wished that he were not quite so high, because he had a feeling that what Remus was saying was very important, if only he could grasp the sense of it. "I wasn't scared," said Sirius. "I wanted to help."

"I know," Remus said again. "When things didn't get weird after I told you, I started to think maybe - but then you went and kissed me when you knew -."

Sirius lowered his eyes, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "It'll never happen again. I won't touch you, or even speak to you if you don't want me to."

"I don't think not talking about things has helped very much," said Remus. "That's why I came looking for you today. I wanted to try saying things instead of not. So if there's something you want to say, you can say it."

Sirius nodded, eyes still downcast. "I fancy you. But I guess you knew that. It's OK if you're not interested. I'd like for us to carry on being friends, though, if you don't mind. I've liked having you as a friend."

"I've liked having you as a friend, too," said Remus. "And for the rest of it, while we're being honest - I did want to kiss you. Just not right then."

Sirius gaped at him. "Y-you did?"

Remus nodded, face a mask of grim determination. "I just wasn't sure it was a good idea. I like you, Sirius. But I've heard how you are with blokes. A few snogs, and then you get bored. I don't want that, and I can't get involved with someone I can't trust. I won't be your bit of fun."

Guilt made Sirius squirm. That did sound like him. But Remus was different; not like the pretty, stuck-up boys with whom Sirius usually entertained himself. If Remus would only give him a chance -

"I wouldn't do that to you," he promised. "I could never do that to someone -"

The steely gleam in Remus's eye cut him off. "Someone broken?" he suggested. "I'm not made of glass."

Sirius lowered his eyes again. "With someone I care about," he finished softly.

When he dared a peek at Remus, the boy's brown eyes were fixed on him, searching. "I want to be able to trust you, Sirius."

"Me, too," said Sirius. "What do I have to do?"

"Just - ask first, all right? And if I say 'no', don't take it personally."

Sirius nodded. "That's fair."

"For example," said Remus, licking his lips nervously, "now might be a good time for you to ask me if I want to kiss you."

Sirius's mouth went dry. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes," whispered Remus.

"If you do," Sirius promised, "I won't jump on you, or touch you at all unless you ask me to."

A look of determination came over Remus's face. Sirius held his breath and stayed perfectly still, heart pounding, palms pressed flat against the ground in demonstration of his promise, as Remus leaned towards him. His eyes fluttered closed when Remus's hands cupped his face, and then cool, soft lips pressed tentatively against Sirius's own. The uncertainty of the kiss squeezed at Sirius's heart, but when Remus's lips parted, and his tongue hesitantly brushed against Sirius's lower lip, the blood sang in his veins.

Remus was kissing him. Tasting his mouth as if he were a rare and possibly deadly delicacy. He felt higher than any drug had ever taken him. Since his initiation into the romantic arts, Sirius had had many snogs, but never one like this. It was his usual habit to dive in headfirst, all self-gratification and exuberance, knocking the other person off their feet and against the nearest flat surface. He had never imagined that complete passivity could be so earth-shattering.

When Remus pulled away at last, they stared at one another, wide-eyed, in the falling darkness.

"D'you want to do that again?" asked Sirius, breathless.

Remus nodded.

This time, Sirius allowed himself to respond to Remus's kiss, running his tongue along the curve of Remus's lower lip, then tugging it gently between his teeth. In response, Remus slid his hands around the back of Sirius's neck, burying his fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Their mouths blended in an eager caress that made Sirius feel as if he were flying.

The light had gone. Sirius's cheek rested against Remus's shoulder, his nose buried in the crook of his neck. They held one another close, breathing in each other's warmth.

"This," sighed Sirius, contentment humming in his brain.

"Yeah," Remus agreed.

A bell rang in the distance, calling them to supper, but they did not move immediately.

As the ringing faded away, Sirius nuzzled Remus's neck. "I am soooo hungry," he admitted.

That startled a soft laugh from Remus. "What a surprise. Shall we, then?"

"I suppose," said Sirius, reluctantly letting go.

Their hands clasped briefly and then parted as they stepped back onto the path and turned towards the dining hall. No words passed between them, but words felt unnecessary for the moment.

Hungry though he was, Sirius kept forgetting to eat. His eyes would wander to Remus, or their feet would nudge one another under the table, and he would have to bite back a grin. Pale and flushed by turns, Remus kept his eyes fixed on his plate. James and Peter had seen the two of them enter the dining hall together. Peter looked relieved. James gave Sirius a nod of approval for having apparently smoothed things over, and let the matter rest. And if Sirius burst into uncontrollable fits of giggling once or twice over pudding, well, that was only natural.

Joy fizzed inside Sirius like bubbles in a soda bottle that evening in their room as conversation returned to normal. He was amazed at Remus's ability to behave as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and tried hard to follow his lead. He did not mean to keep his happiness from James forever, but for now, this new understanding between himself and Remus was special - secret - and belonged only to the two of them.

As the lights went out and the four roommates settled into their beds, Sirius felt strangely shy - a rare occurrence for him - and could not find the words to bid Remus good night.

"Remus?" he whispered, reaching across the space between their beds.

The other boy hesitantly mirrored the gesture, weaving his fingers through Sirius's, but he seemed to have no words either.

Sirius drew their joined hands towards himself and pressed his mouth fervently against Remus's knuckles - a pledge, though he did not yet know of what - and Remus gave him a smile of such sleepy sweetness that Sirius knew there could be no going back. Not for him. He drifted into dreamless sleep, hand still linked with Remus's, his heart bursting with contentment.