Chapter 23
"You say to yourself, "Dear God what have I done?"
And hope it's not too late 'cause tomorrow may never come"
Social Distortion – Reach for the Sky

The next morning, the two men Apparated to the small church. Faint energies clashed around the property, spawning anxiety and alarm, breeding a sense of something unbalanced, of a world missing some vital, encompassing piece, yet something else soothed and calmed, abating the more violent charge surrounding the hallowed ground.

Our Holy Weeper sat on the corner of two quiet lanes in a rural suburb known for good schools and safe streets. It was a small parish, holding a hundred members if they were cozy, with crow-stepped gables topped by a wooden cross. A small churchyard surrounded the building, its aging, slanted headstones well tended and moss-free. Venerable oaks lined the pavement, uplifting the pathway's edges as if it rested along the boundary of a great fault.

Harry glanced at Draco and then returned his gaze to the church, frowning at the odd magical tempest. They continued to stand there as a grey cat crossed the street and slid underneath a white-washed rail fence.

"Harry," Draco said quietly. "You feel that?"

Harry gave a slow nod.

Together, they walked up the uneven pavement to the entrance of the church. The doors, wooden and bound by wrought iron, groaned as Draco pushed them open. A small, hairless man shuffled up to them with a welcoming smile. He wore overalls and his teeth rested in his mouth like the tombstones of the cemetery outside, all different sizes and leaning in cock-eyed angles.

"Welcome to Our Holy Weeper," said the man in a high, eager voice. "Are you here to worship, or shall I tell you about our lovely church in a short tour?"

Harry grinned at the man, agreeing on the tour before Draco could halt what would most likely prove to be a long and tedious history lesson of Muggle faith.

The little man smiled, handed them each a pamphlet, and began to lead them through the building. "This is a late-12th century church. In the south aisle, formerly a chapel to St. Mary, is the fine memorial brass to Sir John de Yorse, dated 1476." Harry and Draco looked at the brass. Harry reached out to touch, but quickly pulled his hand away at a tsking noise from the man. Their tour guide continued on and they followed, exploring the rather rundown interior of the church. "The remains of what would have been a substantial funerary monument to Sir Thomas Whirley, his wife Anne and their eleven children are placed on the windowsill there." The little man pointed as they passed the sill. "It is likely that the monument was smashed during some local violence on the grounds in the mid 1680s. It is said that the church had been built upon some ancient stone ring—" then he learned towards them and chuckled, "—probably some bloody sacrifices happened here, if you ask me." He cleared his throat, leaned back and resumed his lecturer's expression. "However, this hasn't been confirmed because the parish has not allowed any surveys to be performed."

Finally, they stood before a small donation box and the man gave them another view of his unkempt teeth. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from that crooked smile as Harry deposited a few quid.

"Well, sir, do you mind if we look around on your own?" Harry asked, donning his "All Around Good Guy" guise, and duped, the man agreed.

As they returned to the pulpit in the back of the church, Harry scanned for the man before they slipped into a back room.

"It's definitely here. Do you feel that?" Draco asked, investigating the area with his eyes as he sensed the strong magic in the building and air around him swirling like a tempest.

"I felt it the moment we arrived. Only it's really strong here. Right below us." Harry tapped the floor with his toe.

They began to search for a stairway down and found it behind a little cupboard. Hunched over to save their heads from the rough brick edges, they descended into the dark cellar.

Magical energy swiped against Draco, soaking into his skin, into his mind and heart, touching his magical core as he took the creaking stairs one at a time. A cobweb fluttered before his wandlight and he brushed it away. Everything was dim in the cramped stairway, his Lumos smothered, even sound seemed to be soaked up into that dark veil. Harry's eyes were squinting and Draco knew that his every sense was drawn fine, feeling and listening and searching for the slightest change in that silent void. In time they stepped into an open room.

The room measured about ten feet by ten feet, with wooden slats lining the earthen walls. In the center of the room on a high table sat a simple mount and resting on the mount was the orb. Swirling, hypnotic colours danced within the crystalline ball; power pulsed and taunted and swayed.

How the Muggles who worshipped in the run down house of God didn't sense the terrible thing, Draco couldn't fathom. It was a mystery that they could sing their psalms and hear sermons of hell and damnation without feeling that intimate touch of malevolence. Perhaps their virtuous reverence and quiet prayers soothed it, smothering that hunger shifting within.

He had faced both dark wizards and vampires in his day, but nothing seeped of evil like the artefact nestled below the floorboards, hidden away like a dreadful secret. Its magnificence was disarming; its hollow need was far, far worse.

Come to me wizard. It matters not. I can promise eternity. Nothing else matters. Nothing matters but the Abyss. My Shining Son, you are mine.

Harry's arm reached out, seemingly of its own accord, pulled and drawn toward the crystalline ball, trapped under something far more unbreakable than Imperius, far more fatal than death. Entranced. Doomed.

Draco grabbed his hand, stalling Harry's advance for the orb. "No," his voice strained. "Let's go."

As his ego began to give way, gulping up lungfuls of air, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and Disapparated from the orb's unholy touch.

The orb pulsed. The Shining Son. Sweet power radiated from the wizard and the orb pulsed.

Harry had a headache of the severity only a case of home brewed moonshine could have induced.

"Holy Hell, kill me," he meant to say, however only "olyellee" came out.

"Harry?" A soothing hand traced his face. "You alive in there?"

Harry grunted. "'aco?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Draco said, his voice warm. A cool cloth settled on his forehead. It felt like heaven. "Here, take your potion."

Draco lifted up Harry's head and dribbled something into his slack mouth. With saintly patience he helped Harry drink the entire bottle.

"You'll feel better in a few minutes and then we need to talk. I'll be out in the living room."

Harry waited as his murky thoughts and jumbled brain slowly realigned and began to work once more. He rose from bed and examined himself in the mirror. He looked like shite. Patting down his hair he went to talk to Draco, wondering exactly what had Draco in this brood.

Draco was sitting pensively on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on knees, pressing his fingers against each other then relaxing them. He did this over and over again. When Harry entered, he glanced up and smiled wanly.

"What happened?" Harry asked, concerned.

Draco sighed heavily, but said nothing. Harry walked over and sat next to him on the couch, tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder.

Draco smiled thinly at him. Harry's diaphragm contracted.

Draco looked away. "Okay, I'm just going to say it; I've been thinking over this for a while, but I'm just going to say it." The fingers flexed. "Harry… I'm afraid something inside of you is going to snap someday and you're going to kill someone, someone you don't necessarily want to go to Azkaban for killing." Draco took a deep breath and looked up at Harry, his hands now gripping each other tight.

Harry's mind emptied. That wasn't what he was expecting.

"It's like you're not you when it happens, like something else has taken over. I… I just worry." The anxiety evident on Draco's face shocked Harry. "I know that this case is important and I know that that fucking orb isn't a pleasure to deal with… but you can't keep snapping like that."

"I didn't do anything in the church, did I?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd blacked out under the orb's power. Draco slowly lowered his eyelids and shook his head. Then two and two immediately summed up to his interrogation of Riley. "It's about Riley, then?"

Draco's eyes snapped open, practically bulging, as if he was trying to plant reason and awareness in Harry's mind with Legilimency. "It's about Riley and it's about Kogelman and it's about you turning into Mad Auror and I just don't want to see you really, finally, lose control." Draco stopped and took a deep breath. "I just wanted to tell you how I feel. Just… just wanted you to know." He was looking down at his hands again and Harry sat there, staring at him, unsure of what to say. Of what to think.

Finally, Draco stood and presented Harry with a not entirely passable smile. "Well, I have to get back to Rain." He reached out his hand and Harry grabbed it, squeezed. "Dinner tonight?" Draco asked.

In a daze, Harry nodded, thinking of what Draco had said. "Yeah, sure. Here?"

"Okay, I'll be by at seven."

Then Draco left, and Harry continued to sit and wonder at his words.

Remus stood waiting next to the couch, looking kindly upon Harry, who simply looked miserable.

"And then he said that he just wanted me to know that he was all worried I would crack. What the hell? What does he mean?" Harry gripped large clumps of his hair in his hands as he leaned forward, bowed head facing the floor.

He sounded defeated, not angry, not betrayed, just wounded, like he'd lost the big game when he was certain he had it in the bag. "I thought…" he began, but apparently couldn't finish. Then he buried his face in his hands, his shaggy hair hiding him from the judgmental gaze of the world.

Remus stepped around to the front of the couch and stood before Harry. "Perhaps he's concerned, Harry. Obviously he cares about you. Do you think you go too far, that your control is slipping?"

Harry's shoulders stiffened and his fingers dug deeper into his hair. A heavy sigh shifted his entire frame and Remus heard a muffled, "Maybe."

"Well, if you think that—maybe—your anger slips, then perhaps you do have some control… issues. Harry, I'm not saying you do or you don't, I'm just saying that I have some understanding on losing control. It isn't easy, but you can rein it in. If anyone can, you can. If you want to talk about it, I'm here. And Draco's here. You have a very dedicated group of people who are all there for you."

"I know," Harry said into his hands.

"He really does care. You do know that, right?" Remus asked.

It was a long, drawn out moment before Harry nodded his head, his hair swaying with the movement. Finally, he sat up, a mix of shy delight and anxiety fighting for control of his features. "I know… and I do, too. Care," Harry amended.

"Obviously," Remus said grinning.

"Well," Harry said with a playful smirk, "I'm not the only one. What's with you and Sirius. You sure seem like more than just old buddies."

Remus shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. I'll be completely honest and admit it: I don't know. It's not like he's here in the flesh and we can grab dinner together or plan a future or anything as domestic as that. But… Well, let's just say that there is something there that wasn't there before." Remus exhaled softly and stared off towards the Floo.

Harry snorted, but didn't say anything else. Eventually, Remus continued. "I feel like I have a second chance, however fleeting it might be. I've always loved Sirius, as a best friend and all, and I know him well." Remus lifted his gaze to the ceiling, swallowing.

"It's just that… don't I deserve this? Don't I get love? Don't I ever get a chance?" He took a deep breath, not quite sure where his sudden diatribe had come from. "I'm pissed that I screwed up my opportunity before and now it's like I have this precious gift, fragile and limited and I want to cradle it, to protect it, but I also want to let it be free to enjoy it. I've never had much, Harry, and I want this."

The two men stared at each other.

"Oh, God. That sounds so cheesy," Remus said, pressing his palm across his eyes.

Harry snorted. "I want this, too," he said.

Remus turned to Harry. "We deserve it."

With a dual nod they smiled. Remus understood that he needed to take these shining moments when the universe offered them up and he refused to turn away from gifts waiting at his feet.

The Portkey tugged at their navels and pulled them through to a bitterly cold landscape.

"Well, guess this is the Yukon," Draco mumbled at the falling snow. "Not a favourite destination for holiday, I would guess." He clutched his robes tightly around him as he scanned the scant countryside. Long, meandering hills twisted over the flat land, surrounding a large, squat building. The air was clean and sharp, the open tundra empty of life and sound.

Because the weather in England was rather mild, this bitter cold caught them off guard, ripping through their flimsy clothes. A light touch of snow soon began to coat the men.

"Let's get inside," Remus said, turning up the collar to his corduroy jacket. He turned from the others and walked towards the short warehouse large enough to cover a city block. All of the windows were small and no light shone from them. One thick, metal door waited near the far end. It was painted gray, like the gray cinderblocks the rest of the building was built out of. Not a speck of colour could be found.

Remus banged on the door with his knuckles as Draco spelled them warm with a charm. Harry smiled at the gesture causing that nugget of warmth to grow even stronger. The snow dusting their shoulders and heads began to melt.

A loud snap echoed through the building and then the door opened before them. "Yes?" came a disembodied voice. "State your business."

"Professor Argyle Popicon sent us to meet with High Priestess Apis. We are Remus Lupin, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy," Remus said into the dull blackness of the open door. The secrecy and ordeal to enter the place intrigued Draco and he was more than a little interested in seeing what lay within.

A short, well-endowed and substantial woman walked through the darkened opening. Her thick hands where clasped before her and her smile was so electric that Draco found himself smiling back. At the awareness, he dropped the smile and glanced at Harry and Remus to see if they'd noticed, but they were apparently mesmerized by this happy person as well.

"Oh! We are so excited to have you here," she twittered. "Welcome, come in, come in. Sorry for all the cinematics, but we must maintain a certain appearance, I'm sure you understand." Harry caught Draco's eye and winked at him. "I'm Alissa McCormick. It's an honour."

With enthusiasm she fluttered her hands about, ushering them in. She wore a floor length, flowery dress that held no curves and made her look like a head and arms attached to a bell.

The men walked through the darkness and Draco sensed an array of spells tingling against his own magic. After a few steps they emerged into the light and the tingle morphed from intrusive, to sustaining. He felt his own power flex with a surge of energy. This place must to be a magical conduit of a particularly stout type.

Alissa's voice was high and chirpy. "Excuse me, but is there a fourth with you?" She craned her neck, looking around. Again, the men exchanged glances.

"Well," Harry piped up, "We do have an attending… um, spirit I guess you can call him. He only shows sometimes. He's the one that has the staff and feather under control right now."

"Oh? Oh! Well, that's certainly something to talk about, isn't it?" she bubbled, her hands framing her jowly cheeks.

The entire building housed a large open area with a few smaller rooms lined along the western side. A bustle of people were milling about, moving things from one table to another, or on hands and knees inscribing sigils into the floor within a protection circle that covered most of the centre of the building. Some wore robes, but most of them were dressed in Muggle styles. One young man even wore overly baggy shorts, though Draco could still see traces of his own breath within the warehouse.

"Please, follow me. I know everyone is eager to meet you. We've brought all of our Masters in for this ritual, and of course Marissa Apis and David Wolfwood are here as well." She stopped in mid-speech and whirled around to face them; her dress floated in the current. "Though, I must warn you, Wolfwood has a bit of a harsh demeanour."

She escorted them through the open room introducing them to everybody and anybody and each witch and wizard was eager to shake their hands; apparently English wizards were a rarity in the Yukon.

"It isn't that," Alissa explained at Harry's inquiry. "While yes, they are excited to meet you, being who you are and all, but this Staff… You don't understand what a legacy the Quetzalcoatl Staff is for our coven. The legends are passed down to every new initiate and the fact that it now returns to us, well it just defies probability!"

Short, quick steps transported Alissa up to a tall, elegant woman reviewing a map hanging from the wall. Little sparks of light periodically highlighted different sections of the map that looked to cover the world. Her blond hair, highlighted with the silver of impending age, was pulled back into a lose bun on the top of her head and she wore slim spectacles on a chain that Madam Pince would have admired. The similarities didn't end there, for the woman had a pinched look to her face, a disapproving moue to her lips, however, when she saw the three men approach, she smiled and a light in her eyes washed all discontent away.

"These must be the three young men from England," she said warmly, holding out her hands to shake each of theirs. Draco noted her grip was firm and her hands warm. She smelled of fresh violets.

"Hello Miss Apis, I'm Harry Potter, this is Draco Malfoy and Remus Lupin," Harry introduced them all and Apis nodded to each one.

"I want to thank you for coming, and bringing us the Staff of Quetzalcoatl. It truly is a monumental moment for all of us." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and Draco noted a slight shake to her hand. "I dare say, it seems we will need a new purpose for our coven after this." Everyone chuckled at that, except for a man who walked up to stand next to her. He looked upon Apis with respect, though his features looked incapable of any sort of amusement.

She turned to the new arrival and introduced them to the dour man. He was middle-aged with a scruffy looking beard and almost no hair on the top of his head. Dressed in more traditional wizard clothing, he had an appearance of royalty in his posture and presence. His sharp eyes caused Draco to feel a slight itch along his spine, as if the wizard was examining him under an amplioscope, dissecting needle poised at the ready.

"This is my second, Mr. Hart Wolfwood," Apis said. "Hart, this is Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and Remus Lupin."

"Ah, I see, the hapless British wizards who'd stumbled upon the Staff during a routine smuggler bust have arrived." He turned from Apis' disappointed look to the men. "Charmed, I'm sure." He looked down upon each of them through heavy lidded eyes and Draco smirked, cocked an eyebrow and shared an entire conversation on the status of the louts they were forced to share company with in the span of five seconds.

He felt vaguely guilty afterwards.

"Mr. Wolfwood," Harry said, offering his hand to shake. Wolfwood looked at Harry's hand and stood there, as if waiting for a better offer.

"Oh Hart, don't be such a sour puss," Apis scolded.

"Ah, this brings back memories," Harry mumbled towards Draco and Remus: the first snorted in response and the latter chuckled under his breath.

"It certainly does," Draco said happily.

Draco and Wolfwood hit it off so quickly they'd begun sharing potions theories within the first few hours of their arrival. He knew he would always have a Severus shaped hole in his life and never expected it to be filled by a Canadian of all people.

Popicon arrived later that evening with a satchel full of potions and scrolls and little instruments that could have made friends with those odd whirligigs in Dumbledore's office. He and Apis huddled together discussing an aged parchment. On it were lines upon lines of ancient words that crackled with power. Wolfwood organized a workbench and then poured himself a glass of whiskey. Finally, at close to midnight, after most of the witches and wizards departed for their homes for the evening, a handful of people sat together and discussed the upcoming ritual.

Draco, Remus and Harry sat to one side with Popicon on their right. Apis, Alissa, Wolfwood and a few other wizards and witches sat in the remaining circle of chairs.

Wolfwood scowled at the group. "So, you have all of the portions of the Staff other than the orb," he began in a gruff tone as Apis shook her head in amused resignation at him. "And of that you know of its whereabouts. Why didn't you bring it as well?" Wolfwood asked but didn't wait for any of them to answer. "As for that, where are the staff and the feather; we should put them under containment immediately."

Harry sat forward in his chair. "Well, we currently have them under control. Are you sure your containment spells will work adequately?"

Draco held his tongue, though his eyebrows did rise at the query. Certainly if they'd expected this group to destroy the artefact, they could trust them to have the know-how to house it.

Wolfwood harrumphed as if his family line had just been defamed. "Of course we can contain the parts of the artefact, Mr. Potter." Harry flinched, and as Wolfwood dove into explaining the exact detail on how the containment field was established and the specific spells used in its creation and maintenance, Harry's eyes glazed over.

Finally, Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. Alright, alright. I get it."

"Oh, but I was enjoying that little lesson," chuckled Popicon.

Harry snorted at the man, then turned back to Wolfwood. "Are you ready to receive them, then?" he asked.

"Of course," Wolfwood snorted. "But where are they?"

Harry looked over at Remus, who nodded then called out, "Sirius, can you show up now?" The circle of witches and wizards all looked up in shock, one even jumped to his feet, as Sirius shimmered into existence. "Sirius here," Remus gestured, "is containing the two artefact pieces."

"What? How is this possible?!" one red-faced witch exclaimed, her cheeks rosy. She vaguely reminded Draco of their old Herbology professor, all ratty and cheerful.

Remus shrugged. "Not quite sure. But when you're ready, he can bring them forth, right Sirius?" Sirius nodded, his form shifting with flashes of contrasting black and white.

"Well, this is interesting. I would like to study this… ghost?" Apis looked at Harry for confirmation.

"We're not certain what he is. He walked through a magical, possibly necromantic, archway that we have little information on. We thought he was dead for many years," Harry explained with a warm smile at Sirius. "We're happy to have him around—" his face became shadowed "—even if we don't know for how long."

Remus looked to Harry and offered him a wan smile. Sirius watched them silently.

"I see. Terribly fascinating," Apis said as she squinted at Sirius who continued to shimmer in negative.

Wolfwood nodded in agreement, a crinkle developing between his eyes. "Something to study later, I think. We should get this done." The man stood and the others followed his lead. The crowd walked to a stone locker, about six feet in height, tall enough to contain the staff. "It's made of blood basalt and has been enhanced with dampening spells. It has three containers to separate each portion of the Staff. I'm sure you don't want me to continue with the details." He looked poignantly at Harry, who raised his hands in surrender and shook his head.

He again looked around to the gathered assembly. "Are we ready?" he asked and many eager heads bobbed, all eyes on Sirius. Sirius, too, nodded.

Wolfwood donned a thick glove and reached out to Sirius. Sirius held out his hand, then pinching his fingers together, he turned his hand towards himself and then pushed it into his chest. Draco squashed a sharp gag reflex as Sirius' chest's surface tension gave and his hand sunk in through clothing, skin and flesh. He heard a soft gasp over his shoulder. With a flash of light, Sirius pulled out his hand, his ethereal fingers gripped tight around the staff.

And Draco could have counted the second between the presentation of the staff and Harry's lurch next to him.

"Harry?" Draco asked in concern, gripping Harry's arm to keep him upright. Harry pulled against him; his glazed eyes scarily familiar, taking Draco back to the bone riddled hall. Continuing to pull, Draco dug his heels in to stall Harry's forward motion.

"Hurry up, would you!" he called out to Wolfwood.

The wizard had taken the wooden shaft from Sirius and now stood there, staring at it in adoration and awe. Apis gaped in shock, taking a step back from Wolfwood as the rest of the gathering all shared expressions of worship and Draco cried out to Sirius, "Take it back! Take it from him and put it in the box." He returned his attention to Harry, calling to him, funnelling energy into that golden dragon he'd left safely behind. "Be strong, Harry. Be strong. You can do this."

It all happened so quickly, from Draco struggling against the shaft's dominion of Harry to its entire subjugation of the coven. It was hot, so hot, and Draco couldn't breathe. Then, in a separate instant, a loud click filled the room and everyone stumbled to the floor, panting, exhausted, released from the puppeteers strings. Draco almost fell upon Harry as he too was freed from the infinite power of the artefact.

Clinging to each other they looked up and saw Sirius and Remus standing by the stone locker; Remus, with his back to the box's door, panting heavily, his eyes the sharp colour of the wolf's, his mouth distended with a definite hint of fang protruding from his lip. Slowly, the wolfish features faded, soaked into his skin and smoothed away; even more slowly everyone rose up off the ground.

"Wow," said Wolfwood. Alissa tittered, a tinny madness to the sound. Someone else sobbed.

"So, you've had your first taste of this artefact. What do you think now?" Draco asked the crowd.

"Holy fuck," the rosy cheeked woman said, causing Draco to re-evaluate his perception of her demeanour. He could never imagine Sprout saying such epithets.

Apis shook her head in disbelief. "I had no idea… No idea."

Remus surveyed the crowd, who stared over at him and Sirius with wide eyes and open mouths. "One more. Though the feather doesn't have the power the shaft does. Anyone plan to clear out after that last display?" Remus asked. The teenager in shorts took a few steps away from Sirius, but the rest seemed ready to try their mettle against the Dark one more time.

With an equal mix of fear and anticipation, the coven watched as Sirius reached within himself again and pulled out a feather. A collective sigh echoed through the room as they looked upon the beautiful plume. Remus popped the locker door wide and the pull of the shaft kicked in, causing the group en masse to take a step forward. Then Sirius dropped the feather in a small partition of the blood basalt case and Remus slammed the door closed.

"Wow," Wolfwood said again, scratching at his bald head.

Remus slumped against the locker and slipped down the length of it, exhausted. Draco and Harry went to him. "You okay, Remus?" Harry asked, offering his hand.

Remus looked at it, then looked at the three men standing above him. "Wore me out, is all. Between that damned thing and Moony… just wore me out." He took a deep breath and let it gush from his lungs as he rubbed one hand across his temple. It was covered in a sheen of sweat.

"So," Draco said to Remus, though he surveyed the group, who seemed quite happy to be chatting amongst themselves on this astounding display of power. "You can still manifest the … wolf? It helped fight the Staff's power?"

Remus nodded. "Yeah, I think I'll always be able to bring forth Moony if I need to, just sometimes I still get that whole rabid animal drive." Remus laughed depreciatingly. "But I needed his stubbornness to help fight the shaft. Damn. I need some sleep," he said, then rubbed his hands through his hair, bringing out the gray as it shimmered in the incandescent lighting.

"Excuse me." The men turned and saw Apis standing there. "It's awfully late and everyone's exhausted… and you don't look so well yourself." She smiled down at Remus, who slowly climbed to his feet with Harry's help. "Why don't I show you to your rooms; we have a few guest quarters. Nothing much, but it's better than trying to find a hotel out here in the tundra." She chuckled softly.

"We can share a room, we don't mind," Harry said with a gesture at Draco, red flags of embarrassment gracing his cheeks. Draco stared open-mouthed, then smiled. What the hell. What did it matter? He had no concern for how others would perceive him, because here was Harry and he was smiling. At him. Openly accepting him for all that he was.

"Yeah, not a problem. We're shagging anyway," Draco added for the benefit of the swooning girl in the back. He clearly heard, "Damn, why are all the hot ones gay," and smirked up at Harry, who kept smiling.

Remus chuckled and slapped them on the back. "Well, guess I'll see you in the morning," he said, and they followed Apis to the line of small rooms hugging the side of the building. Harry and Draco nonchalantly entered one as a few women watched in dismay, and Remus entered the other, followed closely by the ghost of Sirius.

Remus lay on his fold-out cot, the middle bar dug into his back causing him to toss and turn, to search for a position less backbreaking. The room he'd been placed in was small and square, only separated from the ritual site by thin plywood walls and a coating of insulation charms. The magic in the room flowed through everything, from floor to ceiling to the damned uncomfortable cot, and he wondered how it might affect the people who lived here for any duration. After five minutes of contemplating the spell-work and wriggling around for comfort, he climbed out of the cot and transfigured it into a proper bed with mattress and sheets.

He crawled under the covers, ready to doze off after the very busy day, when he felt a tingle in his brain. His eyes popped open to search the room.

Sirius stood next to the bed, looking down on him.

"Hey there," Remus said with a tired smile. Sirius shimmered at him. His mouth moved, saying what looked like, "Hey there," but it was soundless, only a mirage.

"Care to join me?" Remus asked as he tossed back the covers, his heart in his throat, a downward turn to his mouth. Why hadn't he done anything when they could actually touch? Be together? Live?

It'd actually been an odd action, something he hadn't even put any thought to and almost admonished himself for doing something so foolish, when Sirius's form seemed to grow opaque. And then he sat on the bed.

The bed dipped.

"What!" Remus cried out as he sat up. The blankets fell from his torso to settle at his waist.

He stared at Sirius. Sirius stared at him. With one tentative hand Remus reached out… and touched his oldest friend.

Remus jerked his hand away. "How?" He seemed capable of only one word sentences.

"I think it's this place, Moony. So much magic—" Sirius glanced around, his eyes oddly glowing in the dark room, like a cat's, "—that I seem to be absorbing it somehow to—" he held out his arms in presentation, "—to grow some substance. Or maybe it's 'cause I'm not holding that Darkness within me."

A smile, full of teeth and pleasure, bloomed on Remus' lips. He reached out again and gingerly ran a finger along Sirius' hand, rubbing along the ridges of his tendons, brushing against each fingernail.

"It's really you. Here. In the flesh." His words ended with a sob and then he gripped Sirius' wrist and pulled him into a fierce embrace. "Merlin," he breathed into that dark thatch of hair. He smelled freshly washed. "God. It's really you."

Sirius twisted so they were chest to chest and he wrapped his own arms around his old friend. "Yes. It really is."

With sudden awareness, Remus tensed. He was in bed, holding onto his old friend, who he'd recently thought of in romantic terms, who was a man.

"Uh…" He wasn't sure what to say, but he knew he didn't want to let go. Instead he began drawing his hand up and down Sirius' back, wriggling his fingers in the hair at the nap of his neck. Feeling him.

"Feels good," Sirius murmured into Remus' shoulder, leaning into his embrace. "Feels so good to touch you, Moony. God, I've wanted this for so long. Back in the shack and before…" Sirius' words died on his lips and he clung roughly onto Remus, holding on like something might tear him away from that embrace and bury him in an ocean of lost memories and despair.

"Shh," Remus said as he stroked Sirius' hair. Silken ebony. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so obtuse. I'm so sorry I didn't see. You know me, I can be so dense; I needed a hard kick in the arse," Remus said with a chuckle and then he gently kissed the top of Sirius head, just to see what it was like.

And it was bliss.

If that was all he would ever get, Sirius in his arms, a gentle kiss to the top of his head, Remus would be content, for it was more than he had ever hoped he'd be given.

Sirius lifted his head and that goofy, half-cocked grin on his face caused Remus to laugh again, only this time full and joyful. "What?" he asked, happy but a little self-conscious.

"Moony. Remus, do you think…" Remus watched as Sirius' gaze darted from his own amber ones down to his lips and then returned to his face. The moisture in Remus' throat evaporated at the suggestion in that shift of eyes. He swallowed, then darted out his tongue to wet his lips, shocked at the spike of desire he saw in Sirius' gaze as he watched Remus' mouth.

"Sirius." Inexorably he found himself leaning forward, gaze set on his prize, those soft, full, real lips. And just like that, they met.

I'm kissing a man. I'm kissing Sirius. And damn, it is so good. Random thoughts played through Remus' mind as his lips brushed against his best friend's. Though Sirius was only a corporeal ghost, a half person if Remus wanted to be cruel, every part of himself felt more genuine right at this moment than he had during the last few years of his life. This was no shadow, no reflection of a life better lived; this was truly happening and his heart's racing pace let him know with each beat that he loved every minute of it.

Sumptuous, his lips were sumptuous, and Remus prolonged the kiss, tasting and licking and lying back as Sirius leaned forward, spreading beneath this dark and sexy man. It was new and right and Remus surrendered to it. "Sirius. God, Sirius. I need you," he groaned out as his erection was pressed between the two men's bodies. Sirius reached up and brushed a finger over Remus' face, his eyebrows and lips, his cheeks and every scar.

"I'm here, Remus. I'm here." Sirius leaned forward and kissed away Remus' fears and warmth bubbled within him as he realized wishes really do come true and, even if brief, second chances were always worth taking.