Though it was only just past midmorning, the day was already warm. Sunlight shone from a clear blue sky, scattering sparks over the distant waves and warming the sandy path which led from the castle, past the village of Shellingham, and up to the crest of a grassy hill. The village was filled with a cheery summer bustle, but the hill was quiet, the path between it and the castle deserted except for two barefoot figures.
A salt-scented breeze ruffled Remus's hair, making him feel as light as the sunlit air. He imagined that if he took a deep enough breath of it, he might float away altogether. All that held him to the earth was the hand holding his.
He glanced fondly at the boy beside him. Sirius's hair was getting long, shiny black tresses curling over collar and ears. Remus liked it, but there was not much that he did not like about Sirius. Since the moment that his lips had touched Remus's over a year and a half before, everything had changed. The shift had been so sudden and so profound that Remus would not have been surprised to learn that Sirius possessed magical powers, unknown even to himself.
Before meeting the other boy, Remus had felt isolated and alone. He had no friends because he had not tried to make any; other boys did not understand him, and he had no desire to explain himself. But a look from Sirius had unlocked the granite chamber of Remus's heart, and all his secrets had come pouring out. His darkest fears had proved insubstantial in the face of his growing feelings for the other boy. Sirius, warm and eager in his bed, was safety and comfort, as much as he was heat and hunger. His desire for Remus's damaged body had helped to make him feel whole again.
Remus was in love. Beautiful, impulsive Sirius Black had stolen his heart, and that love had healed Remus more than doctors, medications, or the passage of time.
There were still bad days. It was never Sirius's fault - he was always so conscientious with Remus when they made love - but sometimes a touch or a word would send Remus reeling backwards through time, tearing him from Sirius's embrace and driving him to the open window, sick and dizzy, until the night air chilled his skin and drained the poison from his blood. When that happened, Sirius knew better than to approach him. Instead, he would slink back to his own bed, burrow guiltily under the covers, and wait for Remus to come back to him. When he did, Sirius would offer abject contrition, and Remus would reach across the space between them and take his hand. They would fall asleep like that, comforted by the knowledge that tomorrow would be better.
Remus would never be able to outrun the horrors of his childhood entirely, but sometimes whole days would pass and he would not think of them. It had been nearly a year since the last time he had cut himself, and even his nightmares had grown infrequent. With Sirius close enough to touch, Remus felt safe. He slept peacefully, without fear of ambush from the darkness that lurked in his psyche.
The path crested the hill, and the two young men stopped at a wrought iron gate. Wide grey eyes turned towards Remus, pleading.
"Remus, I can't -"
"Yes, you can. You told me last night not to let you talk yourself out of it. Go on. I'll be right here." He squeezed Sirius's hand, then let go, leaving him to walk the last few steps alone.
His heart ached for the boy he loved with every reluctant step Sirius took, face pale, eyes fixed on his goal. When he reached it, he crouched down, one hand moving to trace the letters carved into the slab of white marble.
"Hey, Regs," he said softly.
Remus swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back tears as he watched Sirius greet the brother he had not spoken to for eight years.
"Sorry I never came before now. I always meant to, but - I couldn't. Didn't know if you'd want me to. I thought it was my fault, what happened, and I thought - maybe you did, too."
Sirius's voice gained strength as he spoke. "I've finished school. James and I are taking a gap year to go travelling. No idea where yet. James is my best mate. You never met him, but he's ace. When we get back, I'm off to university. Mother and Father will be glad to be rid of me, I expect. They still haven't forgiven me for what happened."
His lower lip trembled and he made the rest of his confession in an urgent rush. "I still dream about it all the time, Regs. You're there and I know what's going to happen, but I can never stop it. Remus thought if I came here, maybe it would help. He understands about dreams."
He glanced up at Remus, standing nearby. "This is Remus, Regs. He's - You would've loved him. At least, I hope you would have. I do." The last words were barely a whisper.
Remus's heart squeezed as grey eyes held his for a moment before turning back to the white stone.
Sirius took a deep breath. "Regs, I'm queer. I just - thought you should know, since you're my brother. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference to you. Mother and Father think I'm being ridiculous, and I'll get over it and do all the things I'm supposed to do for the sake of the family. Maybe you would've stood by me and told them to go get stuffed. I hope so. But if you were here, then they'd have you to carry on the family name. It wouldn't matter so much what I did."
Sirius bowed his head, voice tight with sorrow. "I miss you. I'm sorry. God, I'm so, so sorry, Regs -"
Tears fell from his lashes to vanish in the grass that covered the small grave. A sob tore from his throat, and Remus was there, pulling him into his arms, holding him tightly as he went to pieces. They held each other for long minutes, swaying in the sea-scented air, until Sirius's breathing turned from sobs to shaky gasps.
"I love you," he whispered as Remus stroked his neck.
"I know," murmured Remus, tasting the salt of tears on Sirius' lips. "Do you want to go now? We can come back whenever you like."
Sirius nodded. When Remus let go of him, he removed something from the back pocket of his denims, and set it carefully atop the marble memorial.
"It's a scallop shell," he said softly to the brother sleeping beneath the earth. "We found it on the beach yesterday. I thought you'd like it."
Remus knew it was not only a token of remembrance; it was also a sign to Sirius's parents, so that they would know he had been there, for whatever that might mean to them.
"C'mon," Remus said, holding out his hand. "We'll walk back along the beach."
Sirius nodded, touching the sun-warmed stone one last time. "Bye, Regs. It was good talking to you. I'll come back again soon."
The wrought iron gate creaked as the two young men passed through it and turned down the path, hand in hand, leaving the dead to their rest.
They took a side path, circling beneath the forbidding bulk of Shellingham Castle, high on its rocky outcrop, and waded through the tough, scrubby grass that clung to the shore, gradually giving way to the rippled expanse of ruddy gold sand. The tide was high, washing over their bare feet as they passed in and out of the shadow of the sandstone cliffs. Sirius was silent all the way down from the graveyard, and when Remus looked at him, his face was turned away, gazing out over the sparkling expanse of the North Sea.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Fine," Sirius said, not taking his eyes off the water.
Remus stopped, tugging at Sirius's hand to force him around to face him. "No, you're not. Talk to me."
Sirius turned reluctantly. His eyes flickered up over the cliff face, and then dropped back down to his hand, linked with Remus's. "Not here. I can't -"
Realisation dawned on Remus. "Oh. Is this where -?"
"I don't know." Sirius shook his head. "The beach changes. Storms and things. But - near here."
"You haven't been down here since it happened?" asked Remus sympathetically.
"No. Just the public beach, where we were yesterday."
He let go of Remus's hand and turned away, his eyes and footsteps drawn unwillingly to the craggy wall of sandstone. Remus followed, but said nothing. When he reached the cliff face, Sirius pressed his palms flat against the unyielding surface. He bowed his head, resting his forehead against the rough stone.
"I did it, Remus. I killed him," he said, sounding desolate. "I might as well have done it with my own hands."
One hand came away from the rock, formed a fist, and crashed back into the cliff.
"Stop that!" cried Remus, grabbing him by the arms and turning him away. "You'll hurt yourself."
"Does it matter?" Sirius's face was streaked with tears of rage. Flinty eyes bored into Remus. "Don't I deserve it? I killed my brother."
"No," Remus said. "You didn't. You -"
Suddenly Sirius was kissing him, hard and desperate, teeth sinking into his lower lip.
"Sirius, what -?" he gasped, fighting to keep his balance.
"Fuck me. Right here," Sirius whined, arms twining around Remus's neck. "Fuck me, Remus. Hurt me!"
"Stop it!" Remus jerked away, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders, and giving him a shake. "That's not a punishment. I would never used that to hurt you. Jesus, Sirius. Your family punishes you, your own psyche punishes you - eight years of nightmares! - you think I should punish you, too? Haven't you had enough? It was never your fault."
Sirius continued shaking his head in a misery of denial. "It was! You don't know -"
"Shut up," Remus snapped, and Sirius blinked at him in surprise. "It was his own damn fault, wasn't it? Regulus's. He chose to climb the cliffs, didn't he? And he kept climbing in spite of his better judgment."
"No!" gasped Sirius, horrified. "He was just a kid! He died, Remus! How can you -?"
Remus cupped Sirius's face in his hands, eyes softening. "If it wasn't his fault, how could it be yours? Were you so much older and wiser?"
Sirius stared at him in shock. Then his shoulders sagged and Remus drew him in, holding him against his chest. Tremors shook the boy in his arms, and a gasping breath bubbled from between his lips.
"Are you OK?" he asked gently.
There was a snort, and Remus realised that Sirius was laughing.
"Sirius?" Remus held him at arms length, brown eyes searching, concerned.
Sirius grinned, wiping the tears from his cheeks with bloody knuckles. "I'm just imagining what you'll be like after three years of studying Psychology. God, you'll be bloody terrifying! I'll never stand a chance."
A smile tugged at Remus's mouth. "Count on it. You'll get better whether you like it or not, Sirius Black."
Countess Walburga knew something was amiss the moment she stepped into the entrance hall. A knot of early summer tourists babbled excitedly in various accents, but they were not gazing in wonder at the rich appointments and ancient majesty of her ancestral home. Their white-faced tour guide stood apart from the group, bent in low, urgent conversation with Mrs Kreacher.
Walburga strode towards them, jaw clenched. She tolerated these incursions from commoners because opening the castle to tourists made the family seem generous, but she would brook no unpleasantness in her home.
"What's happened?" She demanded.
"I'm sorry, m'lady," stammered the tour guide, terror increasing tenfold upon sight of the Countess. "I was not informed that the heir was in residence. Had I but known, I would have sent Lord Sirius notification of all scheduled tours -"
"Aye," jeered a Glaswegian tourist, heavy camera slung about his neck. "Next thing, ye'll be sayin' how ye didna ken the heir was a flamin' poof, neither."
Walburga rounded on Mrs Kreacher, who blanched visibly. Her black eyes flashed fire. "What did they see?"