Remus

November 1st, 1995

12 Grimmauld Place

11:30pm

"Do you remember what you asked me the first time we met?"

Under different circumstances, this had the potential to be an amorous question. Currently, it was merely a routine security measure to weed out any impostors attempting to enter 12 Grimmauld Place.

However, Remus Lupin did pride himself on subtle romantic gestures.

"Have you ever met a dark creature?"

The figure in the doorway croaked, as if he'd been howling for hours.

"No, but I am one." Remus replied cheekily, following a warm smile. He had a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder and smelled of fresh herbs and chicken. "Now hurry in, it's freezing and dinner's nearly ready."

The figure that had spoken just stood there in the darkness.

Remus didn't need to look beyond his body language for the security of knowing it was really Sirius, who had a habit of loitering outside the entryway in a fidgety sort of way. Eternally reluctant to step inside his family house—Merlin save you if you called it a home.

"I'm here," Remus encouraged, gently sliding his warm hand in Sirius's cold one. "But if that doesn't tempt you, the food might."

Sirius conceded with a little resistance, taking a last longing glance outside. Remus closed the old, crooked door with a great shifting creak.

"There," he said softly. This approach was halfway endearing and the other half caution, as not to wake the shrieking portrait of Wallburga. Sirius's darling mum loomed behind them and faced forebodingly towards the front door, concealed behind thick drapery.

"Now, let's eat."

Sirius grumbled under his breath, looking down, shoulders hunched. Remus paid this no grave mind and guided him through the narrow hallway, led by the light of ornate gas lamps. His delicate hearing picked up the tail end of some murmured and incredibly foul cuss words.

"I set the table in the piano room," Remus whispered, giving Sirius's hand a delicate squeeze before turning to gather dinner.

Sirius preferred not to eat in the dining room, unless of course members of the Order were around. He found great satisfaction entertaining guests there.

"They'd roll over in their graves," he told Remus once, while skewering a piece of meat with heirloom cutlery and unnecessary force.

Whatever helped.

Remus puttered around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then joined Sirius and presented a simmering skillet.

"Chicken masala."

The piano room was less dark and dismal as the rest of the house. It had beautiful, statuesque windows adorned with heavy, red drapery. A small tea table for two sat in front of one, overlooking the small courtyard outback.

"And—" Remus waved his wand to summon a dusty bottle of wine. "I nicked this from the cellar."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Sirius's face. He was leaning back in his chair, staring blankly at the grand piano. After a moment, the savory smell seemed to bring him to his senses as he turned to survey the meal before him.

"You've outdone yourself this time, Moony."

Remus sat, vanishing the dust and uncorking the bottle with a wave and flick of his wand.

"You know, it's been two years. And hearing that old nickname still feels..." Remus paused for the right word. "Surreal."

"This whole god-forsaken place feels surreal," Sirius crossed his arms, never one to miss an opportunity.

Remus poured two goblets of deep, red wine and smiled sadly.

"Yes, it does."

Acknowledgement. Blunt validation. He knew that's what Sirius needed most of all.

Remus always felt he never had much to give, always struggling to make ends meet. In that regard, they were polar opposites. Remus was always versed in financial struggle and Sirius had an abundance of generational wealth. Not that it mattered when you were confined to Azkaban. He really only had the house now, though it was abundant with priceless heirlooms, if you found the right market.

Even so, the delicate political positions of an unregistered werewolf and a blood-traitor, turned escaped convict, had uncanny common grounds.

"Arthur stopped by this morning," Remus said, watching Sirius stare at the food with eyes that weren't really seeing. "I told him you were sleeping one off."

Sirius smirked. "Ah, good to know my reputation precedes me."

"Indeed," Remus agreed, spooning a beautiful, steaming heap onto Sirius's plate. "Embrace it. If anything, it's a good cover."

"My whole life I've been embracing my repu—"

"I'm not serious, Sirius."

Remus was hoping for a laugh, but Sirius just blinked as if he had did not have a response. Then his eyes became closer. Apologetic, but solemn.

"It's this house, Remus...I—I'm..." he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Bloody loosing it."

It was all fine and dandy to have such a convenient, secretive location for the Order. Until it was quiet.

Generally, it was impossible to predict when 12 Grimmauld would receive a knock at the door. Arthur would stop by some mornings before work, and Kingsley would pop in around midday to brief them over the occasional spot of tea. Tonks, who was in on Sirius's secret, would linger in the evenings. Particularly the ones Sirius was out on the town.

"You know she fancies you, right?"

Sirius eyed Remus, after the latter returned from seeing her to the door late one night.

"What d'you mean?"

"She literally falls all over you, Moony." "But she's so young-!"

"Merlin, I didn't tell you to shag her—you truly are adorably oblivious."

Lately there were extended lulls between members coming and going. Harry and the rest of the children that had stayed during the summer were now all back at Hogwarts. It was like a dementor had swooped in, leaving behind only worry and November chill in it's wake.

"Any news?"

"Nothing about Harry," Remus reassured. "Fudge being barmy...just the usual."

Sirius smirked. "Let's go for a stroll this full moon and wander his way, what d'you say?"

For Sirius, when there were people, there was purpose. He had been stuck in his own personal living hell for nearly a year now. Remus knew he was always waiting, feeling useless.

And yet, Sirius was constantly thanked and held in high regard for providing such an invaluable service to the rebellion. He always put on his brave, charming rebel face in return. If there was anything Remus was expertly versed in, it was the ability to put on a good front.

But if you scratched just below the surface, and no one seemed to dare to, you would see the real Sirius. Perhaps it was his calmly erratic demeanor that unnerved them, or the strange way he gazed off into the distance.

To Remus, it was just Sirius.

"Drink," Remus suggested, leading the way with a sip of wine. He raised his goblet. "Spectacular—cheers to your mum."

Sirius snorted a little manically. Remus knew he had hit the sweet spot for one of his favorite past times. Forever a teenage rebel, wholly due to his current living situation mixed with his arrested development (and most definitely provoked by Wallburga's horrible portrait).

Sirius uncrossed his arms and raised his glass to the heavens.

"Cheers, mummy darling." He took a sip and swirled the goblet thoughtfully. "This tastes like the summer after fourth year."

"How oddly specific."

"I was locked in my room for months, after my abhorrent behavior at Cissy's wedding," Sirius smiled into his goblet at this apparent fond memory. "I made Kreacher apparate bottles in."

"Ah, I had no idea."

Sirius met his eyes for the first time that evening and smiled mischievously. "Dear sweet mumsie's favorite, she'll haunt us tonight."

He took a deep drink, then eyed Remus suspiciously. "But, they have an extensive cellar—there's loads of bottles down there, how did you know?"

Remus tried not to look too pleased.

"Dark creatures have a dark sense of humor," he shrugged. "It comes with the territory."

Sirius burst out laughing. A true, beautifully erratic Sirius laugh.

Then, like watching a tornado form, he leaned forward on his elbows over the table. Their lips now inches apart. He whispered,

"You bloody fiend."

Remus's heart beat faster.

Their time alone together was always a double-edged sword. It was so difficult to reach Sirius when he was brooding. And chances were, if it was quiet, Sirius was brooding.

This was his childhood home—if you could consider it much of a childhood. The place he resented and yearned so much of his life to never return. And now here he was, it's voluntary prisoner.

"Might as well be back in Azkaban," Sirius mumbled, as they lay together one sleepless night.

"The decor was better."

Remus hadn't known whether to laugh or cry. So he laughed until he cried.

Sirius had joined in, unable to resist, and everything felt okay again. For just a moment.

When it was just the two of them, and occasionally Tonks, Sirius would take any opportunity he got to leave the house as Padfoot. He always returned more despondent than he left. Consequently, Remus had made it a personal goal to cheer him up each time.

He caught Kreacher muttering about this incident with the wine a few weeks ago. A good rule of thumb: anything Kreacher resented, Sirius was sure to approve. So, Remus had put the idea in his back pocket and waited for the opportune moment.

And now—Sirius's earthy musk was dangling in front of him, more irresistible than the chicken. How could he have been prancing around the last few hours as a dog and still smell so...inviting?

Remus supposed it was one of life's exquisite mysteries.

Sirius, watching Remus's internal struggle, bit his lip and smirked.

"After we eat," Remus managed, forgetting how to breathe. "I've been slaving over a hot stove for hours, you know."

Sirius closed the inches between them, lips ever so lightly brushing lips. He hovered there for a moment, ever the tease.

Remus, slightly dizzy from holding a breath, did not relent. So Sirius swiftly moved his lips to Remus's ear instead and bit his earlobe.

"I'll slave over you for hours."

His warmth sent a shiver down Remus's spine and he cleared his throat to stifle a gasp.

And as suddenly as it had come, the storm quelled. Sirius snapped back in his seat, savoring the sight of Remus blushing.

"You need to eat," Remus handed Sirius a fork. "There aren't any bars to slip through here. Gain another 500 pounds, you can still tempt me and escape through the front door."

"You are feeling dark today," Sirius raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Eat." Remus repeated, still attempting to regain his composure. "Before I tell your dear mumsie in the hallway I stole her favorite wine."

Sirius eyes twinkled softly.

"You're a rebel after my own heart," he whispered, and raised his goblet again.

Remus's heart was all aflutter.

"To you, Moony."

Notes:

Cheers to that ;) Some strong Wolfstar to start us out, they're just so fun to write. I have a long plan for this fic, I've been working on it for a while and am excited to finally share! The next few chapters are all ready to go, I'll be releasing them weekly. Thanks for reading!