Home, Bitter Home
The ancient oak door creaked open, a decade and more of rust crumbling off the hinges, hissing as particles cascaded over the floor. The air was dank, stale and uncomfortably humid in the rainy London August. The smell of decay reached Sirius' nose and it wrinkled.
"Home sweet home, eh, Remus?" he asked bitterly.
The other man sighed, leaning against Sirius' lanky form, his arm wrapped around Sirius' waist, "No, not really, love."
"I thought I was rid of this place at sixteen, and here I am again. Trapped within the confines of my past, once again. Because all Blacks are dark, of course," he said snidely.
Remus winced at the recriminations unspoken, his stomach twisting with guilt, "Please, Padfoot..."
Sirius sighed, "I know, love. I'm sorry. Neither one of us is really free to say things like that."
Remus smiled weakly, "And bitterness does not become you, Sirius."
A smile creased his face, "One of the few things that does not, yes."
"Of course," Remus nodded, a smile hovering hesitantly on his lips.
The door shut behind them as they stepped into the dark, muffling the sound of rain. In silence, they walked to the kitchen, hearing the scuttle of insects and doxies, listening intently for the sounds of Kreature. With a soft lumos, a wand was lit, casting the room in shadows.
"You know," Remus said softly, "The best revenge would be to fix this place up." 'And it might provide some closure...'
Sirius smirked sardonically, "True. My mother dearest would have an apoplexy if she knew I was here again, never mind you or the Order."
Remus stopped and pulled Sirius to him, wrapping his lover in his arms, "Your parents didn't deserve you, Sirius. Never, ever deserved you," he said, sprinkling kisses on his companion's lips and face between words, wand still aloft over the other's shoulders.
"I love you, too, Moony," Sirius smiled softly.