Part I: Beginnings and Ends

Oh shit, thought Remus Lupin. He stared at the dots on the Marauders’ Map in horrified fascination. If he went to the Shack, he would see Sirius. He watched as his trembling hand clenched around the parchment. If he went to the Shack, he would see Sirius, and. Touch him, whispered the little voice inside of him that always seemed to have exactly the wrong idea. No, he would. He would turn him over to the Dementors. He would. Confront him. If he went to the Shack, he would see Sirius. He didn’t know how long he sat there, heart thudding in his chest. Finally he forced himself up. After all, he did want to see Sirius, and. Touch him, whispered the little wrong voice.

And then there he was. Sirius. Gaunt, haggard, long hair a matted mess, blue eyes sunken and hollow and more than a little mad. Remus heard himself speaking. But he couldn’t resist any longer, and the little voice inside him was shrieking in vindication, and he stepped forward and took Sirius, skinny, half-crazed, unwashed Sirius into his arms and he had never felt anything so good in his life. The shouting, the children, the explanations, Snape’s performance, all blurred palely when he looked at the scarecrow figure.

Early the following day Remus entered his room and shut the door behind him. He was both exhausted and exhilarated by the night’s events, although after he shifted back to human form he’d gone to sleep in a closet for a few hours in one of the abandoned wings. He hadn’t wanted anyone to find him, to break open the shell he felt keeping him in a mood he hadn’t experienced in more than a decade.

“Remus.” That beautiful voice, hoarse now. Somehow Remus wasn’t quite surprised that Sirius was here, waiting, although he was supposed to be long gone. “Remus, I need you to help me.” Sirius stepped forward and reached out tentatively, then drew his hand back. “Please.”

“Yes.” Remus wanted to add, //anything//, but could not. “I’ll help.”

“But— not now. Not here. I— I need something that will— can you meet me somewhere? In a few weeks? I could— or an owl, perhaps—”

Remus nodded. “I know something we can use.” He looked around the room and found some stray pieces of parchment. Selecting two, he laid them carefully on the bed. He pulled out his pocketknife and cut off a small piece of his hair. He started to reach toward Sirius, then handed him the knife. “Just a couple of strands.”

The lock, when Sirius gave it to him, was coarse and greasy. Remus mixed the hairs together, then spread them over the two pieces of parchment. He pulled out his wand and, concentrating, said quietly, “gygnomenoi, gnomai, zeugnumenoi!”

There was a blue flash. Remus picked up the newly-made bracelets from the bed and handed one to Sirius. He slid his own over his wrist. “Wear this. When you’re ready, hold it and say ‘zeugnumenos Remus’. It will bring you to me. I’ll be somewhere safe within the week.”

Sirius was staring at him. “You— what was that? No, I didn’t mean— I have to go.” He reached out again to Remus. Suddenly he slid to his knees and clutched at Remus’s hands, pressing them to his face.

“Sirius.” Remus’s throat was tight. “I. I will wait for you.” He hoped Sirius could hear all he meant to say.

One last, bruising squeeze of his hands, and then Sirius was stumbling towards the window. He whistled, and the hippogriff flew up to the window. A flurry of wings and he was gone. Remus sat down heavily on the bed. He thought.

Twenty minutes later he was standing outside Snape’s door. He had to wait a minute longer than usual before it opened and he heard Severus’s standard greeting. “I felt you out here.” Their eyes met. “Come in. Have a drink.” It was seven in the morning.

Remus walked in and took the glass Severus handed him.

“Slowly, it’s the good stuff.”

“The Oban?” Remus sipped appreciatively.

“Since this is the last time, I felt it appropriate.”

“Severus.” Remus took the other man’s hand in his.

“That was just to break the ice.” Snape lifted an eyebrow at him.

“You might want to work on those social skills a bit more.” Remus sat on the couch, pulling Snape down with him. “I need your help.”

“You insult me, and then ask me for a favor.” Snape was carefully not leaning into Remus. “And you call my social skills into question?”

“Mmm. It must be your bad influence.”

“Yes, the evil Slytherin corrupting the virtuous Gryffindor. Sounds like one of those Muggle romance sto—” Snape broke off abruptly. “Help with what?” He bent his head, letting his hair fall around his face.

“I have to get out of here.” To the veiled face. “Help me get away.”

“To your lover.”

“He’s not— I don’t know. But. Now I know the truth. My life is— I cannot stay here.” Remus took another sip of his scotch. He reached out and brushed Snape’s hair lightly off his face. “Severus. Help. Me.”

Snape caught Remus’s hand in his own. He turned it over and looked at the palm. Deliberately, he pressed a kiss there. He folded Remus’s fingers back in on themselves and placed the hand on Remus’s knee. “Yes. I’ll help.”

Remus heard the echo of his own words to Sirius. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Snape’s lips twitched. “Don’t thank me yet.” He stood up and went to the record cabinet. “This is new. You might like it.” A squeal of feedback, a crash of guitars, shouted lyrics. //Touch me I’m sick, touch me I’m sick.//

“Sev—” Remus opened his hand and looked at the place Snape had kissed.

“No tender goodbyes, if you please.” Snape was turned away, back tense.

“No.” Remus finished his drink. “But when you need me—”

“I will find you,” Snape said quietly.

Remus stood. “Yes. For anything.” The word he had not been able to say to Sirius. As it had on the night of his first visit, the door thudded shut behind him. As he walked up the stairs, he kept seeing Severus in his mind’s eye, shoulders tight, hair hanging around his face. //Touch me I’m sick, touch me I’m sick.//

Later that day he found out why Snape had warned him not to thank him.

Part II: Remembering

The only warning he had was the bracelet vibrating on his wrist. “Gygnomenos Sirius!”

Clearly Sirius had made some attempt to comb his hair, apparently with his fingers, in the three weeks since Remus had last seen him, but that was about as far as personal hygiene went. He was crouching, breathing heavily. “Shit. Worse than Floo Powder.”

“Mm. Sorry about that.” He held out a hand. Sirius ignored it and struggled upwards shakily. “Can I— do you want something to drink? Eat?”

Sirius nodded emphatically.

“And perhaps you want to shower.” Remus really hoped the answer would be yes.

Another nod.

“Through there.”

Sirius turned and walked into the bathroom, stripping as he went. Remus cast a cleaning charm on the discarded clothes, which served mostly to reveal how threadbare they were. Then he cooked the steak he’d been saving for the next full moon. He was making a salad when Sirius emerged, smelling much better. Remus watched him inhale the steak, chew stolidly through the potatoes, and turn to the salad as a last resort. He cleared the plates off the table and brought over a bottle of Glenfiddich. He lifted his eyebrows enquiringly at Sirius, who said, “Maybe in a bit.” They sat at the table quietly. Sirius’s hands fidgeted incessantly.

“Remus.” Their eyes met. “What I need is. Um. Before— when they were going to— before I got put in Azkaban, I used a. You know how in Aurors I got advanced training? So I had learned this... this thing, and I used it. Well.” A long pause. Then the words rushed out quickly. “I took almost all my memories of you and I locked them behind a wall in my mind so the Dementors couldn’t reach them.”

“Sirius...” Remus felt his throat tighten. He covered the twitching fingers with his hand for a moment, then pulled away.

“But I can’t— what I need is for you to help me unlock them. So I can really remember.”

“You. Don’t remember me.” Remus discovered that for twelve years he had been clinging to the hope that Sirius had not forgotten him.

“NO!” Sirius flinched as if he had startled himself with his shout. “I remember you! I have the memories of the memories. But they have— what’s locked up is the... the emotional content.” Those half-mad eyes gazed intently at him. “I know I want it back.” His voice grew even hoarser. “Of all my memories, I only— concealed— the ones of you.”

It turned out that hope rushing back in was almost, although not quite, as painful as hope leaving. “So you want—”

“I have to have you help me do the unlocking spell. You’re the only one.”

“I’m your Secret Keeper, then.” The words were bitter on his tongue.

Sirius’s hands stilled suddenly. Remus saw that they were battered and marked with small cuts. “Remus. Please. Please help me do this. Then we can. We can talk. Please. Please. Please.” It was as if once he’d started saying the word, he couldn’t stop.

But there had never been any question. “Yes.”

A slow exhalation. “GOOD. Um. Now?”

Remus nodded. Sirius reached out.

“We should hold hands.” Remus gently held the injured hands (paws, he thought suddenly). “Now just imagine yourself opening a door in my head. Um. When I did it, the image I used was the bedroom closet in our— in our flat.”

Remus closed his eyes and visualized their bedroom, the gauzy silver drapes around the bed, and the closet door Sirius had painted purple one day, saying that it seemed appropriate. “All right.”

“Open the door.”

Remus saw his hand reaching for the brass doorknob. He pulled the door open slowly. And then he was caught up in a rushing torrent of images... A small part of him recognized that he was living Sirius’s memories with him. He held onto that knowledge as the recollections swept relentlessly over him.

He was eleven, and he was going to Hogwarts for the first time. He and James had already commandeered one of the train compartments and were getting ready for the journey by unpacking candy and Muggle magazines. The door opened hesitantly and a short, brown-haired boy peered around the edge. “Oh! I’m sorry— I didn’t—”

“No, come in,” James invited. The boy walked in, hauling a bag of books. He was slender, fine-featured, with yellow-brown eyes. A Chocolate Frog escaped Sirius’s grasp and landed on the boy’s arm. He laughed, and Sirius watched in amazement as the somber little face transformed.

“That’s my frog, and I’m Sirius Black.”

“I rather think it’s my frog now,” the boy said teasingly, “and I’m Remus Lupin.”

He was thirteen and a half, and he and his friends were running pell-mell down to the lake. He caught up to Remus and tackled him, sending him skidding across the grass. Remus twisted in his loose hold and began crawling away. “Knock it off, Sirius!” Sirius latched onto his ankle and hauled him back steadily. Remus was surprisingly still. Maybe I can hold him for a second when I catch him, Sirius found himself thinking. And smell that sweet Remus-smell, and... Then he found that Remus had only let himself be dragged back so that he could tickle Sirius relentlessly when he was in range. Sirius laughed until the tears ran from the corners of his eyes and he was gasping for mercy, but it was worth it to see the whole-hearted smile lighting up Remus’s face. Oh. Oh, I like him, Sirius realized.

It was his fourteenth birthday. Sirius leapt out of bed shouting, “Wake up! Wake up you guys! I’m FOURTEEN!”

“God, Sirius. Just for that, I’m keeping your present for myself,” James grumbled from behind his bed curtains.

“Hey! No fair! It’s my BIRTHDAY!”

“Happy birthday, Sirius,” Remus said quietly. Sirius spun around and saw him, fully dressed, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Remus!” Sirius bounced onto the other boy’s bed. “Why are you up already?”

His friend shrugged. “Dunno. Perhaps I didn’t want you to wake me up.”

“That’s a crummy explanation,” James said into his pillow.

Sirius saw that Remus was holding a small package in his lap. “Is that my—” long, dramatic pause— “PRESENT?”

“Maybe.” Remus’s lips twitched. “Maybe not.”

Sirius was in heaven. Sitting with Remus on his bed, letting the other boy tease him, waiting for that enchanting smile to spread over the full lips, staring into those golden eyes. He wanted to freeze this second forever.

He was fourteen and three months. He couldn’t breathe. He was sitting in the Hogwarts library reading a textbook on magical creatures and had just reached the “W” section. A disfiguring scar... he’d never seen Remus without his shirt on. One or two nights a month... Remus’s mother was ill, or his father, or he himself, or an aunt died, or. Something. And I thought it was just to get out of Potions tests, Sirius thought. Can be physically painful and involve self-inflicted injuries... The many times Remus had winced when Sirius or James put a friendly arm around him, punched his shoulder playfully, wrestled him to the ground. He shoved the book back on the shelf and went in search of his friend. He found him outside, curled up under a tree, writing in a notebook.

“Remus?”

The other boy sat up and shut the book hastily. “Hi, Sirius.” Remus’s voice had started changing and was settling into a light, husky baritone. Sometimes Sirius asked him to read aloud from one of their textbooks just for the pleasure of letting that voice wash over him. He sat down.

“I was doing the homework on magical creatures and I found a book.”

“Oh? Don’t tell me you actually read it.”

“I did, actually.”

Remus froze.

“You’re a werewolf, aren’t you,” Sirius whispered.

“Yes.” So quietly he could scarcely hear it. He leaned in to catch the next soft words. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Remus.” He was startled when Remus stood up quickly. “Where are you going?”

“To pack.” Remus started marching away.

“Hey! Come back!” He caught up quickly; in the past year he’d gained several inches on most of his friends. “What— why?”

“I’ll be expelled now,” Remus explained. “Sirius, let GO.” He yanked his arm away.

“Expelled! But— all I did was read a book and figure it out!” He grabbed Remus’s arm again. “I just wanted to let you know that I knew! And— and I want to help. If I can.”

“You. Want to help. Me.” Remus’s voice sounded incredibly tired.

“Yes! You’re my best friend, Remus.” Because James had started spending all his time with Lily, and when he wasn’t with Lily he was helping Peter, who was his new little project. And because, really, Remus was— even without that, he was the ideal friend. Sirius blurted out, “You’re just right for me. I mean,” trying to cover up his blunder, “I’m loud, and you’re quiet, and I run around, and you know how to stay still, and you’re so smart, and you’re funny, and you— you’re just you, Remus.” He knew he was babbling idiotically. It turned out to be worth it when he got one of those heart-stopping, overwhelming smiles back.

“You’re my best friend too, Sirius.” And that was even better.

He was sixteen, and he shifted easily into his dog form. And then he was running with the wolf, trying desperately to keep up as the wolf ran and ran with ceaseless energy. Finally he whimpered and the wolf stopped. Padfoot’s flanks heaved. The wolf nosed him gently. Padfoot backed away and bowed, stretching his forelegs out in an invitation to play. The wolf mock-snarled and sprang on him. Padfoot had a moment of panic as the powerful form (but it’s Remus, it’s Remus) bowled him over, and the two canines were wrestling in the moonlight.

He was a few weeks shy of seventeen, and watching Remus covertly in the shower. Remus had shown him and James the scar several months after Sirius discovered his secret. Now Sirius wished he could draw his fingers along the scar, down the flatly muscled back, to the firm, rounded cheeks... He switched the water to cold, then jumped out, determinedly not-looking. He always felt like a peeping tom when he did this, but he could never resist. He started when a hand fell on his shoulder. It was James, who jerked his head towards the corridor. Sirius finished dressing hurriedly and followed him out.

“Sirius. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sirius snorted. “I wish there were.” He hit himself in the forehead. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

James was grinning. “So, he turned you down? God, I’d have loved to see that. Mr. Confident, getting rejected.”

“Shut up, Jamie!” Sirius hissed. He looked around them nervously. “Not here. You know how sensitive his hearing is.” He bustled James down the corridor and opened a door at random. It was a small storage room. He shoved James in, shut the door, and muttered a silencing charm for good measure.

“This is for real, then.” James was looking at him seriously. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Sirius slumped against the wall. “Yes, it’s for real. I— god, Jamie, I think I’m in love with him.” He’d never said the words out loud before. “It’s awful.”

“I’m sorry. It must have hurt like hell when he said no.”

“Um. It’s not like that. I haven’t— he doesn’t actually— I can’t get him to see me that way.”

James sat down cautiously on a crate. Filch’s cleaning supplies had a nasty habit of coming alive. “So he doesn’t know.”

“Right.”

“But you’ve been trying to—what? Get him to notice you?”

It felt surprisingly good to talk to someone about this. “Yes! I ask him to practice Quidditch with me, I sit next to him at meals, I take him on kitchen raids, I make sure he’s always my partner when we’re marauding, and he— he’s just so— so Remus. It’s driving me crazy.”

“But Sirius, you do most of that stuff with me and Peter. How is Remus supposed to know it’s different when you do it with him?”

Sirius felt his mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

“Okay, Paddy, this little male-bonding heart-to-heart is getting a bit too touchy-feely for me, so let’s wrap up with me giving you some manly advice.” James said ‘manly advice’ in an exaggeratedly deep voice. “Try doing things Remus likes to do.” He cracked the door open and peeked out. The hall was empty. “Good luck!”

Do the things Remus likes. Do the things Remus likes. That was why, a month later, he was lying on the floor in the common room next to his favorite werewolf, reading. They were alone. Remus chuckled suddenly. “Listen to this, Sirius.” He started reading aloud from some dusty history book. Rolling onto his back, Sirius closed his eyes and imagined that Remus was saying something entirely different to him.

“Sirius?” The sweet, husky voice was very close. Sirius opened his eyes slowly. Remus was hovering over him. His hair had fallen forward around his face and was almost, but not quite, brushing Sirius’s cheek. Sirius’s heart thudded loudly. Daringly, he reached up and pushed the fall of hair back. It was incredibly silky under his fingers. It fell forward again. “Sirius.” Remus dipped his head just enough so that the tips of his hair did trail over Sirius’s face.

Okay. This meant—this was—Sirius touched the soft hair again. He could feel the other boy’s warm breath. He threaded his fingers through the hair and tugged lightly. Remus leaned down, and their lips met. Sirius fought to keep his eyes open. Remus’s mouth was soft and inviting against his. Then a hot, slick tongue was brushing questioningly against his lips, and a hand was curling around his neck, a warm thumb stroking the corner of his jaw. Sirius parted his lips eagerly.

Everywhere that Remus was touching him felt like fire. The tongue explored his mouth and he moaned. His heart was beating even harder. The hot mouth pulled away for a second and he heard Remus draw in a long, shuddering breath. Remus shifted slightly and then they were lying, pressed together, and he got to wrap his arms around the other boy and fold him into his embrace as he had wanted for so long, and he was kissing that sweet mouth, and he was feeling Remus’s entire body against his, and he was stroking that enticing hair... Dimly he heard the Fat Lady’s voice. Remus jerked away from him and sat up just before a group of third years clattered in. Sirius flipped over hastily. Remus was staring at his book. Sirius let his hand sneak over and touch Remus’s ankle. The other boy glanced over at him and smiled. Sirius grinned back. He was completely, totally happy.

He was seventeen and two months, and he was in the Shrieking Shack, watching Remus sleep. His friend had pushed the covers down as he slept so they tangled around his waist. His chest rose and fell gently. Sirius stretched out his hand and rested it carefully on the flat stomach. Remus’s face and body were slack with relaxation, except for the little furrow between his brows. As Sirius watched, the golden eyes opened.

“Mm. Sirius. You’d probably better leave soon.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Before James and Peter wonder where you are, then.”

Sirius started rubbing his hand in a little circle on Remus’s belly. “Remus? Do you— are you. Um. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Mm. No, that feels nice.” Remus stretched luxuriously.

“No, I mean— are you ashamed of me?” He shut his eyes. “Or— of this?”

A little gasp. “Sirius! No!” Pause. “Look at me.”

Sirius opened his eyes. Remus had turned his head to look straight at him.

“Why did you say that?” Remus sounded more curious than hurt. “What’s wrong?”

Sirius tried very hard not to sound as if he were complaining. “Why don’t you want anyone to know that we’re. You know.” They had never actually talked about what they were, or what they were doing; they just kept sneaking off to secluded corners to kiss. “That you’re my... boyfriend?” The last word came out hopefully.

Another pause, just long enough for Sirius to start berating himself furiously. “Your boyfriend.” Sirius had never heard quite that tone from Remus before.

“God, I hope so.” More silent berating. I’m going to freak him out, I’m pushing him too fast, he won’t want to be with me anymore.

Remus covered Sirius’s hand with his own and pulled it to his mouth. He kissed it softly. “Yes.” Another kiss. Sirius’s heart sped up. “Sirius, I. It’s like everybody has a part of you. You’re the Quidditch star, you’re everyone’s friend— okay, not the Slytherins, but practically everyone—, all the professors adore you. I just... I just want a little piece of you that will be just for me. All mine.” A slight growl on the last word.

Sirius stroked Remus’s cheek. He dragged his thumb over the curving mouth and into the beguiling dimple on the strong chin. He felt as if his happiness were going to explode out of him. “Moony, that’s.” He searched for the exact right words. “You have all of me. I am yours. Yours,” he repeated. He hesitated, then plunged on. “I love you. And— I’m in love with you.”

Oh god, he’d done it. He held his breath. And— that had to be the most radiant look he’d ever seen on Remus’s face, even better than when they’d perfected their Animagi transformations. Sirius was outrageously happy. He’d put that look there.

“I love you, Sirius.”

Sirius exhaled. He found that he could, indeed, be even happier. He slid his hand into Remus’s silky hair and pulled him into a kiss. He realized that Remus was growling softly. He felt teeth nipping at his lips and working down over his neck. He groaned. Remus wound his arms around him and slid his hand down Sirius’s back. A moment later, Sirius felt the strong hand on his arse, pressing him against Remus’s arousal. He gasped. Remus had shoved away the remaining covers and was naked against him. They hadn’t got this far in their secretive snogging sessions. “Remus? Are you—”

A growl. The hand was squeezing his arse insistently. The warm soft mouth was exploring his ear, his neck. Another growl, and Remus pulled away. “Clothes. Off.” He ordered in that husky voice.

Sirius felt his veins filling with fire. He stripped off his shirt and trousers rapidly. Remus stared avidly at Sirius’s hard cock. Looking at Remus’s flushed face, lips parted slightly, as he drank in Sirius’s naked body, made Sirius even more excited. He drew the other boy on top of him. Their erections rubbed together.

“God, Remus, I’m going to— oh, yes.” Sirius forgot what he was going to say as Remus rocked against him. He cupped Remus’s arse in his hands and pulled him closer. They fell into a steady rhythm. “Oh, oh yes.”

Remus propped himself up on his hands and looked down into Sirius’s face, still moving his hips. The friction was driving Sirius crazy, but he needed more. He gave the firm arse a final caress and moved his hand to their cocks, sliding over them. He was rewarded by the amber eyes closing in sudden pleasure and by another one of those arousing growls. And, a few moments later, by Remus tensing over him and crying out as he came over Sirius’s hand and stomach. That was enough to bring Sirius to his own shattering climax.

Remus collapsed on top of him, nuzzling into his long hair. Sirius heard him whispering, “you’re beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. My Sirius. Mine...”

He kissed his gorgeous wolf boy on the neck and murmured, “All yours, always, all ways.”

He was eighteen, and he and Remus were moving into their new flat, squabbling good-naturedly over what to put where. He hung the gauzy drapes around the bed. He would miss the cozy enclosure of the velvet curtains at Hogwarts. “Why’d we get these flimsy things, anyway?” he called into the other room.

Remus walked into the bedroom. “I’ll tell you.” His voice sank even lower than usual. Sirius shivered. “It’s so I can see you in the sunlight when we wake up in the morning, and in the lamplight when we go to bed in the evening.” Remus seized Sirius by the hips, thumbs stroking gently over the hollows at the top of his pelvis. “I can’t tell you how much I hated those velvet abominations. For hiding you from me.”

Sirius swallowed. “I bow to your superior logic.” Remus rewarded him with a smile and a long, lazy kiss. As always, Sirius felt his heart pounding so loudly he was surprised it didn’t bruise his chest.

He was nineteen and five months, and he was running through long grass. He leapt into the air and caught the stick in his mouth. I probably shouldn’t enjoy this so much, he thought, and raced back to Remus. When his lover tried to take the stick from him, he held onto it and backed away. Remus laughed. “Bad dog,” he said affectionately. Padfoot let the stick fall from his jaws and lolled his tongue out, panting happily.

He was twenty, and he was dancing with Remus at James’s and Lily’s wedding. It had taken weeks of coaxing (“nagging,” Remus said) to get Remus to agree to be his date. Remus had made him keep their relationship a secret (“private,” Remus said) from all but their closest friends. So when Remus walked over to where Sirius was talking with McGonagall, took the glass of champagne out of his hand, and said, “Would you care to dance?”, Sirius was delighted and amazed. Remus led him onto the dance floor. “I get to lead,” he said firmly.

“So what else is new?” Sirius asked. Remus maneuvered him confidently around the other couples. Sirius realized that Lily’s Muggle relatives were gaping at them in appalled shock. He hoped Remus didn’t notice. “You dance beautifully,” he murmured into his lover’s hair.

Remus drew him closer. “Let them stare.” Shit, he had noticed. “They’re just jealous. I have the best man, after all.”

Sirius chuckled. Then, astoundingly, Remus leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. He pulled back and said, “I mean it. The best man I know.” Sirius stared into the warm honey eyes. He thought distantly that he was still dancing, but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps he was floating...

Part III: Catching Up

Lupin fell abruptly from the stream of memories, and then fell out of his chair onto the kitchen floor. His stomach heaved. He made it to the sink in time to throw up the remnants of his lunch. He shuddered and held onto the edge of the sink. God, he’d only caught a few of Sirius’s memories; he’d been able to sense scores more zooming by him when he opened that door. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sirius slumped over, cheek resting on the table. His lips were moving silently and his eyes were twitching wildly under the delicate, bruised lids. Remus rinsed out his mouth.

He took two glasses from the cabinet and headed back to the table. He poured himself a scotch and drank it.

By the time Sirius opened his eyes over an hour later, Remus had polished off a third of the bottle and was giving serious thought to unearthing his stash. He shoved a glass towards Sirius.

“Moony.” Sirius pushed himself upright. He was smiling. “Thank you.”

Remus forced himself to speak. “You’re. Welcome.” There must have been something off in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius looked at the bottle. “Why have you been drinking?”

Remus shrugged.

“Moony?”

“Don’t. Call me. That.” He threw down another scotch. He glanced quickly at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. “Did you know what would happen when I opened that door?”

Sirius considered this. “Well, I wasn’t quite sure. But— I felt you open the door. And it was like— they all streamed in. Remus, all those feelings.” He smiled again. “I missed them so much.” He added in a whisper, “missed you.”

Remus rubbed his hand over his face. “Sirius. I was— stuck— in your memories.”

“You— what?”

“It was like being in someone else’s Pensieve, except... I was you. I felt your memories as if they were my own.” He stopped himself from reaching for the bottle. He wasn’t quite drunk, and suddenly didn’t want to be. But Sirius reached out for the bottle and took a swig straight from it.

“All of them?”

“No. No, I could feel them rushing past me. I know there were hundreds more than I— than I lived, I suppose.” Quietly. “Were they all— of me?”

Sirius looked down. “Yes.” Another drink from the bottle. “Which ones—. Um. You don’t have to—”

“No, it’s— I want to tell you.” Remus thought. “Moving into our flat. Our first kiss. Wrestling with you when we were kids. When we met on the train the first time. Um. You were Padfoot in a couple of them. Finding out I was a werewolf.” He found himself grinning. “You used to ogle me in the shower!”

Sirius muttered, “Oh, shit.”

“And you got advice about me from Ja—” he stopped abruptly. Sirius’s eyes darkened. “Er. Your fourteenth birthday.” He looked down at his hands. “Our first time, in the Shack. And— when we danced.”

“Yes,” breathed Sirius. “Good ones. They’re all good.” A pause. He could feel Sirius’s hot blue gaze on him. “Moo— Remus, what’s wrong?”

Remus realized he almost missed Snape. Snape would prod him with sarcastic remarks until he eked out a couple of phrases. And Snape would be, if not happy, satisfied. But Sirius was in full-blown “get Remus to spill his werewolf guts” mode. He poured himself another scotch.

“Why don’t you want me to call you Moony?”

A smaller piece of the problem. He could answer that one. “That’s— ‘Moony’ hasn’t existed in twelve years.”

Sirius looked as if he’d been slapped. “What’s that—” he made a little choking noise. “Oh, god. You don’t— don’t want to.” Deep breath. “You don’t want to be with me.”

Remus’s head jerked up. “Yes! Yes, I do. But—” The table loomed between them. He stood up. “Can we sit on the sofa?” He held out his hand to Sirius. Sirius stared at it for a long moment, then let Remus pull him up and lead him to the sofa. He snagged the bottle on the way. They settled onto the faded blue couch. Remus was still holding Sirius’s hand. He stroked it gently with his thumb.

“Sirius. I want to be with you,” he repeated. Sirius heaved a little sigh of relief. Remus felt his hand relax minutely. “It’s just that. Okay. Being in your memories made me—nervous.” Carefully arranging his next sentence. “I saw how I was. Or how you saw me. See me. And— I didn’t— I never knew how you felt. Um. How much you felt.”

Sirius took a breath as if to speak, but Remus hurtled on. “Twelve years, Sirius. I’m— scared—” okay, he’d managed to say it, just keep going— “that I’ve changed and you won’t. Anymore.” Oh. He’d left something out. “That you won’t... want me... Anymore.” There. No, wait. “And all those memories are pouring through you, and they’re really— immediate. And you might not actually feel that way now, but because we— reactivated— them, you think you— you think you do.” That was it. He’d poured his werewolf guts out. He gulped his scotch.

Sirius looked a little shell-shocked. He ran his fingers through his hair absently, or tried to; they snagged on one of the snarls that had survived the shower. He yanked his hand away and added it to the one that was already folded around Remus’s. “Remus. You said it yourself. You saw how— how much I love you. That didn’t go away. I put it away because I didn’t want to lose it. And I always knew— I said before I had the memories of the memories, right?” He waited for Remus’s nod. “It was like— like a reflection. ‘Through a glass darkly’, remember that?”

Another nod. Remus bit his lip as he recalled using the phrase to Snape.

“‘But now—’” Sirius misquoted— “‘face to face.’” He released Remus’s hand and bowed his head. The tangled hair fell around his face. “Not to belabor the obvious, but I’ve. Changed. Too. I— I think I need. Some help.” Quickly. “No. Some patience. Some— some love.” He whispered. “If you have any left to give me.” He looked up. “Please tell me. Honestly. Do you love me?”

Remus drew in a deep breath. “I read something once. ‘When I am from him, I am dead till I be with him.’” He looked at Sirius’s exhausted, beautiful face. The blue eyes were devouring him. “God, Sirius. YES.” He leaned towards Sirius, so close he could feel the other man’s breath. He lifted a shaking hand to the mass of black hair.

“Remus. Can I—”

“Yes.”

They kissed. A cautious press of mouth to mouth, lips moving softly together. The smell of Sirius, his taste, exploded across Remus. He pulled away, breathing heavily. “I—”

Sirius was caressing his hair reverently. “Yes. Slowly. We’ll just— get used to it. The changes. Each other.”

Remus pushed his head into the stroking hand. Sirius brought his other arm up and laid it across Remus’s shoulders. A delicate embrace.

“I’ll have to leave tomorrow.” Regret in the hoarse voice. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. A month, maybe. At the longest.”

Remus nodded against the other man’s hand. “You can use your token again.” He realized he hadn’t explained it fully. “If you use it and nothing happens right away, I’m someplace where I can’t bring you in.” He inched into the hug. “Just wait, and I’ll bring you as soon as I can.”

“I wanted to ask you about that. I don’t remember that spell. And that wasn’t Latin.” Intrigued. They were both relaxing in the safe territory of this conversation.

“Um. You don’t remember it because I wrote it. And it’s Greek.”

“You— you wrote it.” Sirius was grappling with this. “That’s— I’m impressed. Did they change the— is Greek a registered spell-language?”

Remus pulled out of the embrace and sat up. Sirius made a little noise of protest. “I want to look at you, Siri.” Pleasure flared in the blue eyes at the use of the old nickname. “No, they didn’t change the rules. It’s still illegal for magical creatures, including werewolves, to write spells. That’s one of the reasons I used an unregistered spell-language.”

“Mm.” A moment of consideration. “It’s hard to do, I understand. Write spells.”

Remus’s lips twisted. “Yes. It can be— painful. And time-consuming. But—” he shrugged. “I needed something to do.”

Sirius cupped Remus’s chin in his hand and pressed his thumb into the dimple there. He’d always had a thing for it. “Perhaps someday we’ll talk about. About some of the things you did.” While I was gone, went unspoken.

Remus tensed up. He felt Sirius feeling his tension, and being concerned. Oh. He was smelling his emotions again, as he’d always liked to do. He concentrated and shut it off. “Perhaps.”

Part IV: A Few (Un)Timely Revelations

“Black.” An all-too-familiar voice. His contact. Was this Dumbledore’s idea of a joke?

“Snape,” he acknowledged. There was just enough light in the dim, cavernous warehouse for him to see the faint outline of the other man.

“Dumbledore sent this.” A small packet was pressed into his hand. “You will find your instructions within.”

He nodded, then, realizing Snape probably couldn’t see it, said, “Yes.” A pause. “Anything else?” He was impatient to be released, away from Snape. When the meeting was completed, he could see Remus. It had been six and a half weeks, not the month he’d promised, because he had had to leave the country to evade the Dementors. Sirius was anxious.

Another, shorter pause. “How is Lupin?” Weirdly echoing his own thoughts.

His mind raced as he tried to figure out why Snape was asking. Some belated guilt for ruining Remus’s career? That seemed improbable. More likely that he wanted to rub it in. “None of your fucking business.” And why did he think Sirius would know, anyway?

A huffing noise that Sirius realized was Snape’s quiet laugh. “Actually, it is. Or was.”

Rage ripped through him as he understood the implication. “You wish!” A juvenile response. “Keep your fantasies to yourself, you sick bastard.”

The smoky voice was very close. “I made a fascinating discovery, Black. Werewolves don’t mate for life. Contrary to popular opinion.” The pop of disapparation, and Sirius was alone. Shaking. He walked around the warehouse until he felt calmer. After he’d— got out— he kept having what he thought of as ‘flares’, moments of all-consuming emotion. Usually anger. When he brought himself back under control, he gripped the bracelet and murmured the words Remus had taught him. As he waited for that nauseating feeling to sweep over him, he remembered seeing Remus cast the original spell. The other man had had a quiet power about him that had only been implicit in the boy Sirius had known.

Then the whirlwind picked him up, shook him violently, and dumped him in—an alley. He looked around cautiously.

“Sirius.” The cool husky voice, scotch trickling over ice. A hand in front of his face. He stared at it. The fingers beckoned. Oh. He grabbed on and was hauled to his feet. A warm look from Remus. “I’m at work.”

“Work?” He repeated idiotically. He realized he had no idea what Remus did for money.

“Yes, I’m tending bar. Want to come in? It’s a Muggle club, so it’s safe.”

Sirius absorbed this. “Yes, all right.” He was already wearing Muggle clothes.

“Okay, come on.” Remus tugged on the hand he was still holding. “They know me as Robert here. You’d better be— Cyril.” Mischievously.

“Oh, sod you! I’ll be—” he thought frantically. “Cyrus.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s so much better.” He pushed open a door and they walked into the back entrance of the club. A wave of voices, cigarette smoke, music, and stale alcohol washed over Sirius. Remus was teasing him, he thought happily. And then: Snape. Shit.

Remus moved behind the bar. “Thanks, Coco.”

A pretty blonde grinned at him. “Any time.” She picked up a tray and headed out into the crowd. Sirius stared at Remus. He’d rarely seen his lover in Muggle clothes. Remus was wearing— oh shit, those should probably be illegal. Leather trousers. They clung to his arse and narrow hips. Sirius’s mouth went dry. A long-sleeved white cotton shirt emphasized his muscular shoulders. The shirt was open just enough to show the delicate hollow at the base of his throat.

“Oi.” Remus was looking at him. “You all right?”

Sirius nodded dumbly.

“I can get you something to eat.”

Another stupid nod. He really, really needed to think of something to say. “You. Look. Good.” Mr. Articulate strikes again. Do better, Sirius. “Fantastic.”

Another one of those warm looks. “So do you.” Remus moved away. Sirius looked down at himself, assessing his black jeans and faded blue T-shirt. He didn’t see the appeal, but at least he was clean this time. He brought his gaze back to Remus, watching him lean into the kitchen, long line of his back visible under the shirt.

Something nudged his arm. He jerked it away. “Sorry!” It was the pretty blonde. She gave him the same grin she’d flashed at Remus. “You a friend of Robert’s?”

Robert. Right. “Yes.” He remembered his own name. “Cyrus.”

“No, I mean, are you his friend?”

Sirius looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just wanna know if I have a chance.”

Jealousy flared. “I doubt it.” Back off, he wanted to scream. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t even know if Remus was attracted to women or not.

“Okay! Christ, touchy bastard, aren’t you?” She looked over at Remus, who was deftly pulling a pint. “Can’t say I blame you, though.” She walked off with her tray.

Remus walked over and put the pint in front of Sirius. He was wearing his hair pulled off his face loosely; a few stray strands brushed his jaw. Sirius clenched his hands around the glass so he wouldn’t reach out and touch that silky hair. “Here. I’ll get your food.”

Sirius took a long gulp of the stout. A plate appeared under his nose: a juicy, dripping burger and a huge pile of chips.

“You have some foam—” Remus pointed to his own upper lip. Sirius ran his tongue over his mouth. Remus made a little noise; his eyes, very golden now, were fixed on Sirius’s mouth. There was a roaring in Sirius’s ears. Then someone called to Remus from the other end of the bar, and he was gone. Sirius picked up his burger and bit into it mechanically. He wondered how much longer Remus’s shift was.

Almost three hours, as it turned out. Sirius sat at the bar and watched Remus work. Remus looked over at him from time to time and gave him one of those intense stares, but he seemed too busy to talk. Sirius was just as glad about that, as he didn’t know what they could say in the crush of people. He nursed his pint and tried not to think about Snape with Remus, tried to think of some way Snape’s words would mean something other than what he feared they did. Finally Remus shouted, “Last call!” in a clear voice that carried over the pounding music and clatter of voices. Sirius noticed he was using a voice-enhancement charm, and that he’d cast it without his wand. He touched the darkly gleaming bracelet on his wrist and thought again how powerful Remus had become.

“Let’s get out of here.” Remus was standing just behind him. They walked a couple of blocks down the street, then ducked into a doorway and apparated back to Remus’s small flat. Remus sat down heavily on the sofa and pulled his hair free. Sirius couldn’t resist. He stood behind him and plunged his hands into the gleaming mass, brown shot through with silver and gold— more silver than gold now, he saw with a pang. He started rubbing Remus’s scalp gently.

“Oh. Oh, that’s good.” Remus relaxed under his hands.

“How long have you been working there?”

“Three weeks now.” Another little sound of pleasure.

“You’ve worked in bars before, haven’t you? You looked like you knew what you were doing.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why Muggle work?” He felt Remus tense slightly. “You don’t have to—this isn’t meant to be an interrogation.” He tried to joke. “God knows I’ve had enough of those for both of us.” The words came out more grimly than he’d intended, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Somewhere in Azkaban he’d lost his easy facility with words. He brought his hands to Remus’s neck and rubbed carefully, avoiding the edges of the scar.

“No, it’s all right.” Remus was relaxing again. “I just— can you sit by me?”

Sirius obeyed with alacrity. There was a small box on the floor in front of the sofa. Remus saw him looking at it and edged it under the sofa with his booted foot. Then, as if to conceal his action, he leaned down and pulled his boots and socks off.

“My feet get tired. From standing all night.”

Sirius patted his lap in invitation, a gesture dating back to their school days. Remus swung his bare feet up and Sirius started massaging them. “I remember this,” he said with pleasure. “Rubbing your feet. I remember the first time I did it.” He was still assimilating the emotions that had raced through him when Remus opened his memory closet. A small action, sight, or even scent would bring a recollection, and its accompanying feelings, vividly to his mind. His heart. Remus leaned back against the arm of the couch. He wiggled his toes.

“What’s this?” Sirius noticed a ring around the middle toe of the left foot. He picked up the foot and examined the ring more closely. It was the same dark metal of his bracelet. “Is it one of those—” he searched for the word Remus had used. “Tokens?” Then he noticed that Remus had gone very still. “Moon—” he caught himself. “Remus?” Damn. He kept asking questions.

“Sirius.” Remus rubbed his hand over his face. “You’re very intense, you know that?”

Sirius rather thought this was a classic case of the pot and the kettle, but he kept his mouth shut. He started rubbing the feet again. Long, elegant, high-arched; he played with the toes gently.

Remus started speaking again. “Okay. I suppose I’m not used to questions.” Pause. “Um. Answering questions.” Another pause. Sirius stroked over the ball of the right foot with his thumbs. “Usually I just ignore them.” A very long pause. Sirius checked to make sure Remus was still awake. His head was on the arm of the sofa and he was looking up at the ceiling. Softly. “When you were— gone— I... I didn’t really— “ He sat up suddenly, moving his feet out of Sirius’s grasp. “It’s hard to think when you’re doing that.” Something flashed across his face that could have been a smile. He started over. “When you were gone, I didn’t really talk to anybody. Um. Until last year.”

Sirius thought about that and was horrified. He stared at Remus.

“No, Sirius, not like that.” Remus put his hand on the jeans-clad knee. “I wasn’t a hermit or anything. In fact, mostly I worked in Muggle bars. Like now. It’s— you still want to know?”

Sirius nodded. He took Remus’s hand in his own.

“It’s easy to find work in bars and restaurants. And it’s easy to swap shifts, so I can always get off at the full moon. The population is pretty transient, which helps. I usually work in—” that faint hint of a smile— “what my first boss called places with an edgy clientele. Music clubs, mostly. Like the place I am now. I tried gay bars, but I got hit on too much.” Said not as a boast or in shyness, but matter-of-factly. “So I can be an arsehole and not answer people’s questions, and the employers put up with it. Because it’s part of the atmosphere. And if they don’t like it, I just find another job.”

Another one of the pauses. Remus got up and searched a kitchen cabinet. He came back with a bottle of Bushmills and two glasses and poured them each a shot. He drank his quickly and poured himself another.

Sirius touched the back of Remus’s hand. “I’ll try not to ask so many questions.”

Remus looked at him intently. “No, it’s not that. I want to answer your questions, Sirius. I just— got out of the habit. Of answering or asking. Of talking, pretty much. Um. You know I was never the most forthcoming person.”

“Mm.” That was an understatement. Their eyes met in a flash of humor.

“Anyway. It just didn’t seem— important.” Remus stared down into his glass. “So I didn’t do it.”

Sirius thought of his lover, not talking. For twelve years. He reached out and stroked Remus’s face tenderly. He felt Remus brace himself.

“The ring.” They both gazed at Remus’s foot. “Yes, it’s one of the tokens.”

“Does it— connect you to anyone?”

Very quietly. “Yes.”

Sirius considered. “Do I want to know who?”

“Probably not.”

Ah. His jealousy came roaring back. Remus flinched. What— oh. “You’re smelling me, aren’t you.”

Remus looked guilty. “Sorry. I keep forgetting not to do it.”

Sirius was strangely touched by this. A remnant from their past. “It’s all right.” He sipped his whisky. But now the subject had been broached, and he had to know. The jealousy was still simmering away. “I saw Snape.”

Remus didn’t react. He’d always been good at holding still. Hiding.

“Remus. He asked how you were. I told him it was none of his fucking business. And he told me it was.” The words were spilling out in a hot, bitter torrent. “He told me werewolves don’t mate for life. How did he know that?”

Silence.

“Does that token connect you to him?” He was afraid to look at Remus.

Silence.

“You said you wanted to answer my questions!”

Remus’s voice was very low. Controlled. “Sirius. Do you want to hear my answers? Really?”

Sirius fought for breath. He buried his hot face in his hands. “I don’t know. Yes. I need to.” He managed to pull his trembling hands away from his face. He forced himself to look at the other man. Remus’s eyes were blazing gold. “Yes. Tell me.”

That controlled voice again. “He knows that werewolves don’t mate for life because I told him. Yes, the token connects me to him. He has one too.”

“Why—” Sirius’s mouth was dry. He drank some whisky. “Why did you tell him?”

Remus stood up abruptly. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sirius, you know what you want to ask me. Just come out with it.” He crossed his arms. Defiant, protective.

“Remus. Do you— are you—” He whispered to the floor, “Do you love him?”

Silence. Sirius’s heart seized in fear. He waited. A hiss of movement. A hand came forth and pushed back the curtain of his hair. Remus was kneeling in front of him. He still couldn’t read that shuttered face. “That’s— not what I thought you were going to ask.”

“Oh, Remus. Twelve years. I was worse than dead. I don’t think you stayed celibate.” But: //I didn’t really talk to anyone. Until last year.//

Remus was petting his hair lightly. “I’m not in love with him.” Sirius’s heart started beating again. “Can I— can I tell you some things? Without you getting angry?”

Sirius licked his dry lips. “I’ll try.” The amber eyes were intent upon his face. “I want to hear.”

Remus turned so that he was sitting on the floor between Sirius’s legs, arms draped over the other man’s thighs. Sirius hesitantly put his hands back into the soft hair. A little hum of pleasure. “We were lovers. From November to June.” Remus tilted his head back. Sirius stroked his fingers down the smooth cheek. “I respect him. Um. I suppose I care about him. He’s been a friend.”

Sirius tamped down his rush of anger. “He attacked you in the Shack. He made you lose your job.” Bastard. He was carefully not-thinking about Remus and Snape together. He made his fingers stay gentle on Remus’s face.

“No, he did me a favor.” Remus smiled humorlessly. “He helped me get out of that fucking place.”

Sirius’s hands stilled. “What do you mean?”

Warily. “Sirius, I know how you feel about him, so I’ve never said anything.”

Sirius thought frantically. No, that was just too elliptical, even coming from Remus. “Who?”

“Dumbledore.” The husky voice was bitter. “He made me come back for the DADA job. God, Siri, Hogwarts was the last place I wanted to go to. I kept trying to forget... I didn’t want to be someplace where—. But then Sev— and it was a little better. But when I saw you and. And held you, I knew I had to leave to be with you. To be some place you could come to me.”

Sirius couldn’t catch his breath. He felt strangely happy.

“So I asked Sev to help me.”

Not so happy he couldn’t be pissed off at the little nickname, though.

“You know the rest. Dumbledore couldn’t keep a werewolf on staff once Sev stirred up the Malfoys.” A pause. “He knew why he was doing it. You said he— when you saw him—”

This was important. Sirius thought back through the red haze of anger and jealousy that had overwhelmed him in the warehouse. “He asked how you were. I got angry and said that it was none of his fucking business. He— he laughed and said, ‘it is. Or it was.’ Then I—” he couldn’t meet the golden gaze— “said something about his sick fantasies. And he said that about the mating. Um. ‘I made a discovery. Werewolves don’t mate for life.’” Something occurred to him. “So he knew about you and me before he—” He couldn’t manage to finish the sentence.

“Mm. That’s— definitely another conversation. But— it sounds pretty mild for Sev. Stuck the knife in, but didn’t twist. I think— in the Shack. He had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. Doesn’t mean he had to like it.”

“Mm.” Sirius had to admit that he could almost sympathize with Snape. And, loath though he was to give Snape credit for anything, it seemed that perhaps the bastard hadn’t done too badly by Remus after all. Not that that would stop Sirius from strangling him with his own greasy hair if he came around for Remus.

A yawn took Remus by surprise. “I’m tired.” He hesitated. “How long can you—”

“A couple of days. Maybe four.”

“Let’s go to sleep, then. Tie up any other loose ends in the morning.”

Part V: The Loose Ends

Remus shot awake. What the fuck— he grabbed his wand and looked around the room. Padfoot was crouched in the corner, panting and whining. Remus realized he’d awoken when Sirius flew out of the bed and into dog form. He stayed on the bed and spoke to the dog, making his voice as soothing as he could.

“Padfoot. Paddy.” The names felt strange on his tongue. “Paddy. You’re safe. It’s okay. Padfoot,” he repeated over and over until the dog stopped quivering and just stared at him with the odd blue eyes. “Okay? Sirius, you’re all right.” He added hesitantly, “I love you.” He hadn’t actually said it since they’d been reunited. The words warmed his mouth. “I love you.”

A shimmer of air, and Sirius was there, curled up in the corner. He unfurled his long body stiffly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking ashamed.

“It’s okay. Um— bad dreams?”

“No, it’s— embarrassing.” He stood at the window and pulled the curtain back, looking into the early dawn sky. “I woke up and there was someone in bed with me. So I freaked out.”

“Oh.”

“I’m okay now. Uh. Thank you for talking to me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.”

The gray light fell across Sirius’s face and chest. He’d gone to bed in a pair of Remus’s drawstring pants, which hung low on his hips. Remus could see his ribs and vertebrae too clearly. The black hair, tousled by sleep and the wild hurtle across the room, hung down his back to his shoulder blades. Remus felt his breathing quicken. “Sirius,” he said.

“Mm?” Sirius turned to look at him. Their eyes met. Remus growled involuntarily. He saw the blue eyes widen, then darken. “Remus...”

Remus struggled to control himself. To stay on the bed instead of stalking over to his lover and taking him where he stood. He realized he was gasping. Sirius dropped the curtain. “You’d. Better. Go into. The other room.” Remus managed to say. He shut his eyes, but could still smell Sirius. He growled again.

Footsteps. Sirius stood by him. “I don’t want to go into the other room,” he whispered.

Remus broke. He surged up from the bed and sprang at Sirius. The other man staggered back against the wall. Remus pinned him there and devoured his mouth. The familiar taste shot into his mouth and spread throughout his body, inflaming him. He ran his hands roughly over Sirius’s chest, feeling the protruding ribs. He bit at lips, neck, shoulder. He yanked at the drawstring and shoved the pants down. Sirius was moaning and writhing against him.

Remus pulled his lover’s hand to his mouth and sucked on the fingers. He licked the palm, the delicate skin of the inner forearm, nipped at the deltoid. He held the arm up and nuzzled into the armpit, inhaling deeply. His teeth scraped over the skinny sides. He trailed his tongue over to a flat nipple and bit it. “Oh, Remus. Yes.” He sucked on the hardening nipple. His hand moved to a bony hip, held it firmly. Vaguely he heard himself growling steadily, and realized that some of the growls had the word “mine” in them. He pulled back momentarily and stripped off his boxers, then thrust his hips against Sirius’s.

“God! Remus!” Sirius pulled him into a deep kiss. When Sirius tried to flip them so that Remus was against the wall, he growled in warning and held Sirius more tightly. He worked his mouth over the enticing neck again, then back across the thin chest, and knelt down, biting as he went. He arrived at the hard cock awaiting him and took another deep sniff of Sirius’s body. “Please—!” He gave Sirius one long lick on the underside, then continued his journey over the sensitive inner thighs, sucking hard enough to bruise.

“Remus, please!”

Looking up, he saw that Sirius was touching himself. He knocked the offending hand away with another possessive growl, replacing it with his own, and sucked the cock into his mouth. It only took a few strokes of tongue, mouth, and hand before he felt Sirius jerk against him, and the familiar flavor spilled over his tongue.

He let Sirius tremble there for a bit, and then rose. He picked Sirius up and dropped him on the bed. “Wait there.”

Sirius mumbled incoherently.

Remus returned from the bathroom with the lubricant he’d bought in a burst of giddy optimism two weeks ago. He put it on the pillow and clambered over Sirius, drawing him into his embrace. He returned to that alluring mouth. Sirius parted his lips and sucked his tongue in. Remus brushed his fingers over the other man’s arse. A moan. Remus popped open the lubricant, coated his fingers, and slid one over Sirius’s hole. Sirius pulled his mouth away. “Yes!”

Forcing himself to go slowly, Remus eased the finger inside. His prick was burning and throbbing against Sirius’s flat belly. A warm, slick hand wrapped around him and began pumping. “Don’t. I’m going to—” He growled again.

A surprisingly soothing kiss to his ear. “You’ll be ready again. I know you.” The hand stroked him knowingly. He worked his finger in and out of Sirius’s arse; the thought of fucking him was almost unbearably exciting. The hand sped up. The head of his cock rubbed over Sirius’s stomach with each stroke, and Sirius was sucking on his neck. He bit into Sirius’s shoulder and came, stifling his howl against his lover’s body. He fell partly away, his finger still buried in Sirius. He wiggled it.

“Oh...”

Remus used his other hand to spread his come over Sirius’s stomach and chest. The scent of his semen on Sirius was maddening him. He slid in another finger. Sirius groaned when he hit the prostate. He pressed it lightly, then withdrew his fingers almost completely before shoving them back in. He wanted to be inside Sirius so badly his teeth were hurting from grinding them together. He put in another finger. His cock was already rock-hard again. He rubbed it against Sirius. His lover chuckled breathlessly. “Told you so.”

He shut him up with a kiss and a twist of his fingers. Sirius’s erection was nudging him. He pulled his fingers out and hauled Sirius to his hands and knees. He leaned down and let his tongue snake over the twitching opening, then probe delicately inside. He fluttered it there. “Remus!” He drew back, took a deep, steadying breath and held his cock against the waiting hole. He started pushing forward as slowly as he could. The tight arse clutched him almost painfully. He paused. “God, Remus! Go!” He slid in another inch. Pause. “Remus!” An inch. Pause. Sirius moaned and pushed back. He was buried inside his lover.

He leaned over and bit the nape of Sirius’s neck. He withdrew halfway and carefully thrust back in. He did it again, and again. And again. He pushed down on his lover’s shoulders; Sirius fell to his elbows. Remus propped one hand on the bed by Sirius’s head, grabbing his hip with the other. He was fucking him steadily now, growling and nipping at his neck and shoulders. The hot arse clenched and released, clenched and released. He moved his hand to Sirius’s cock and began caressing and stroking it.

Sirius moaned. “More!”

Remus took his hand off the bed and pulled Sirius’s legs farther apart. Then he thrust into him forcefully. Sirius whimpered. The little noise shattered the last remnants of Remus’s control. He fucked Sirius relentlessly, fisting the other man’s erection until Sirius spasmed in Remus’s hand. Remus shoved Sirius flat and kept going. He heard Sirius saying, “Want you, want you to come in me, come hard, want your come—” Rapid, deep thrusts, spurred on by Sirius’s beautiful, destroyed voice, by his smell, his taste, his very presence. He bit Sirius’s neck again and came with a muffled snarl. He collapsed. A moment of eclipsing darkness.

“Sirius.” Pause. “Siri?”

“Mm?”

“Okay?” Still deep inside Sirius, Remus stroked some sweaty hair off the beautiful face. He rested his cheek against the other man’s shoulder.

“Better than okay.” A smile. “Much, much better. Better to infinity.”

Remus chuckled. “Good.” Pause. “I want to go again.”

The blue eyes opened. “Right now?”

Remus growled. “Sirius. My cock is buried in your arse. In your tight, hot, sexy arse. Yes, now. I never want to stop fucking you.” He felt Sirius shiver. He bit at his shoulder. Another shiver. He thrust in and out languidly.

“God, Remus. It’s like you’re some kind of animal. Oh wait, you are. Never mind.”

“So are you, and don’t you forget it.” He took hold of Sirius’s arm and rolled them onto their sides. Another thrust. He could feel his come trickling out of Sirius’s hole. He reached down and rubbed his finger over the place where their bodies joined, then stroked over Sirius’s balls. A deeper shiver. The balls were tightening under his touch. He played lazily with them until he heard Sirius’s breathing quicken, then started fondling his half-hard prick. His other hand worked its way over Sirius’s shoulder to circle and pinch a nipple. Sirius grew harder in his hand, arousing Remus indescribably. They coupled slowly until Sirius placed his hand over Remus’s and began moving it more insistently. Remus sped up his strokes both inside and out. Sirius came first, gasping quietly; his convulsive movements around Remus sent him over the edge.

“Sirius.” Pause. “Siri?”

“Oh, no way, Remus. No.”

Remus laughed. “I only wish I could.” He kissed his lover’s shoulder. “I love you.”

A sigh of pleasure. “Love you too.”

As they drifted off to sleep, Remus felt an unfamiliar emotion. On the edge of slumber, he identified it. It was contentment.

Part VI: Secret Positions That We Never Try

Sirius’s hand brushed something warm. He sat up, heaving for breath, and tried to figure out where he was. A little noise from beside him. He made himself relax. “Remus.” To reassure himself. Remind himself.

“Yes. Good morning. Afternoon. Whatever.” Remus stretched and looked at Sirius. “Shit!”

Sirius glanced at himself. The sheet had fallen down when he sat up, and he could see an enormous bite mark on his chest. Then he noticed the finger-shaped bruises on his upper arms and the scratches on his chest. He raised his hand to his throat and felt some tender, abraded places there, probably more bite marks if he knew his werewolf. Hmm. He lifted his hair off the back of his neck and touched— yes. The marking bite. A mother huge one, too, to judge by what his fingers were telling him. Remus winced.

“Ow,” said Sirius mildly. He peeled the sheet off completely and gazed into his lap. “At least that’s still in one piece.” Many more of the finger-bruises on his hips and thighs. “Damn, Remus.” He parted his legs and showed him a truly impressive bite on his inner thigh. “I didn’t even know it was possible to get a hickey there.” He paused. “It’s nice to know you missed me.”

Remus put his hands over his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? It was—” Considering. “Unbelievable. Astounding.” Another pause. “You really did miss me, right?”

Remus grabbed his pillow and hit Sirius with it. Gently. “Did I— are you—”

Entertaining though it was to watch Remus fumble for words to describe what he’d done the previous night, Sirius decided to have mercy on him. “Surprisingly enough, that doesn’t hurt any more than you’d expect, after twelve— well. It’s just the outside that hurts like fury. Where’s my wand?”

“No, let me.” Remus laid his hand carefully on the bruised hip. Sirius felt a little tingle of energy between them. He healed almost all the marks, leaving a few on Sirius’s chest. “To remind me not to do that again,” he said in response to Sirius’s questioning look.

But he didn’t have the chance. Sirius opened the packet Snape had given him, and found instructions ordering him south as soon as possible. A shower, an enormous meal— he’d have to find some money to make up for the way he kept eating everything in Remus’s flat— a surreptitious theft of a pair of clean boxers, and he was an anonymous black dog trotting down the street.

Eight days into the assignment, Sirius had to acknowledge that the last of the marks had truly faded away. He found that, in human form, he kept touching the bracelet on his wrist for comfort.

Twenty-two days into the assignment, Sirius wondered why he had been selected. It seemed like a relatively trivial task— watching the houses of three Death Eaters and sending in a weekly report— that anyone could have taken on. It occurred to him that Snape might have had a hand in it.

Thirty-six days into the assignment, Sirius rested his head on his paws and sighed. He kept going over his conversations with Remus. //When I am from him, I am dead till I be with him.// But: //we were lovers. We were lovers. I care about him. We were lovers.//

On the forty-third day, a tabby cat brought Padfoot a small scroll. Unrolling it delicately with his paw, he read, “You are released for the time being. Make contact in three days.” He ate it.

He wanted to surprise Remus, he told himself. Perhaps some small part of him— all right, a fairly sizeable part of him— didn’t want to activate the token now that he knew Snape could do it too. Didn’t want to share any more than he had to. Didn’t want to share anything at all, not even a memory. Via judicious apparations and the occasional dog jaunt, he made it back to London in twelve hours. He went to the flat, but there was no response to his scratching and whining outside the door. He transformed hastily and looked at his watch. 9:30. Oh. Remus was at work. He could break into the flat, or he could see Remus. A no-brainer.

The club was half-full. Sirius spotted Remus behind the bar. He moved towards him, and halted when he realized someone else was moving determinedly towards his lover. He put his hand in his inside jacket pocket, touched his wand, and whispered a hearing-enhancement charm.

“Hello, Robert.” The man put his hand out.

Remus looked at him. “Jeremy.”

The man dropped his hand. “You don’t change, do you? Know what day it is?”

Sirius was riveted. He had rarely seen Remus look so forbidding. Cold, closed-off.

Remus nodded.

“Just thought I’d find you and remind you if I needed to. I looked for you last year, but you weren’t working. On the dole?” Jeremy leaned in slightly.

Remus shrugged. //Talking didn’t seem important. So I didn’t do it.//

The other man sighed. “Okay, fuck you too. I just wish you’d at least pretend to be sorry.” He turned and headed straight for Sirius. Sirius froze, but the man brushed by him without a word. When he looked back, Remus was staring at him. An unreadable look. His feet felt like lumps of iron as he dragged himself to the bar.

“Hello.” Remus put a pint in front of him. “Cyrus.” A hint of amusement. Sirius felt slightly better. “Are you staying?”

Sirius nodded.

“Good.” Quietly. The golden eyes were warm. Sirius felt remarkably better. He was finally able to shift his gaze from Remus’s face and take in the rest of him. His hair hung past his collarbone. A tight green T-shirt, tucked into— oh no, the leather trousers again. Sirius shifted on the barstool. He dragged his eyes back to the handsome face. The full mouth was curving in a slow smile. Then Remus was gone, responding to a shout from the kitchen. Sirius sighed and sat back with his pint.

Four hours until the club closed, but he got to watch Remus the whole time. And wonder about the man who had spoken to him.

Coco stopped by. “I put a song on the P.A. for you,” she said with a little smirk. “This is it.”

Sirius abruptly paid attention. A cool female voice was singing.

//I can’t believe you had a life before me
I can’t believe they let you run around free
Just putting your body wherever it seemed like a good idea//

He whipped his head around and stared at Coco. Bitch. She flicked her eyes at Remus, who was handing a young blond man his change. The man smiled at Remus, held his hand deliberately, and pressed a pound note into it. Remus looked over at Sirius and back at the blond. He disengaged his hand.

The cool voice went on.

//Imagine me behind your eyes
And then what do you see,
I saw hips, I saw thighs
I saw secret positions that we never try
I saw jealousy//

Part VII: Repercussions

Remus shut the door of the flat behind them, locked it, and added a protection spell. He felt Sirius close behind him. The other man’s arms hovered near his waist. He turned and let Sirius embrace him. He leaned his head on the broad shoulder for a moment. Their hearts beat together. He disengaged himself and drew Sirius to sit on the sofa.

“Remus.” Sirius shifted closer. Prelude to another embrace.

Remus sat back. “You were watching me.”

“What, tonight? Of course I was. Nothing else to do.” Sirius grimaced. “I mean, nothing else I wanted to do.”

“No, Sirius. When you came in. I smelled you. You listened in. Eavesdropped.” Remus let himself feel a little curl of anger, then released it.

Sirius was staring at the floor. Remus waited, then got up. He fetched a bottle of Maker’s Mark and two glasses. When he turned back, Sirius was bending over. Peering under the couch.

Remus cleared his throat. Sirius sat bolt upright. “Looking for something?”

“Oh. No. Just tying my shoe.”

Remus stared at him. “Sure.” He sat down again and poured himself a hefty shot, then threw it down. The scent of the bourbon filled the back of his throat and nose, momentarily obscuring Sirius’s anxiety, jealousy and anger. He reminded himself again not to sense Sirius. The strong emotions cleared out, but left a faint miasma of discontent behind. He poured out another bourbon. They sat uncomfortably. Remus sighed. “Just ask, Sirius.”

“Who was he?”

Remus paused. “The man you listened in on, or the one who had the audacity to tip me?”

To his credit, Sirius looked ashamed. “The first one. He sounded angry.”

“He was. Has been.”

“Oh. Um. Can I ask why?”

Another inadvertent sniff. Scorching jealousy and fear. “Sirius.” He stretched out his hand and Sirius took it gratefully, gripping it almost painfully. The fear rising off him eased slightly. “Tell me what you thought when you saw him talking to me. What you felt.” He deliberately closed off his ability to sense the other man.

Sirius was staring at their linked hands. “That he wanted you. That he had been with you.” In a very low voice. “I was— upset.” Remus squeezed his hand. “Angry.” An almost inaudible whisper. “Jealous.” Sirius reached for the bourbon and poured it out with a shaking hand.

Remus wanted to get this right. He thought they might be running out of chances. “Why were you jealous?”

Sirius gave him a look that said, you are out of your werewolf mind. “You were with another man.”

“Sirius. Another man talked to me. Are you going to be jealous every time that happens?” He paused. “Try it again.”

Sirius was clutching his hand. “Since— since I got out, I’ve been. Um. I have these. Flares. Of feelings. I can’t— I don’t know how to— stop them.” The hoarse whisper again. “They’re so strong.”

“Oh, Siri.” Remus ran his fingers through the black hair. But there was something else. “Do you think—” he forced himself to say the word— “Azkaban made you feel this way? Jealous?”

Sirius nodded under the caress. Remus dropped his hand. He braced himself. Still not-smelling. “You don’t... trust me.”

Sirius jerked his head up. “I do! It’s like the De— they put this in me, and I—”

He couldn’t listen to this. “NO, Sirius. You were like this before.” His eyes felt hot. “You didn’t trust me.”

Hurt in the blue eyes. And a faint spark of recognition.

Remus made himself continue. “You thought I would turn.” Silence. “You thought I was the spy.”

Sirius was almost completely motionless. Only his hand, still in Remus’s loose grasp, was moving, twitching.

“I—” Remus swallowed and started over. “I can’t do this if you don’t trust me. I can’t do that again.” He tried to slide his hand away, but Sirius grabbed on ferociously.

“Don’t.” The shattered voice. “Please. I’ll do anything.” Sirius lifted Remus’s hand to his face, pressing his cheek into it. “Please.”

He whispered, “You know what you have to do.” His chest was tight.

A long silence. “Yes.” Spoken into his hand, as softly as a kiss.

Part VIII: A Thick Green Bile

//You know what you have to do.//

He knew, he knew, he knew, but he didn’t know how to get there. That night they’d sat in near-silence on the couch almost until dawn. He hadn’t been able to let go of Remus’s hand. Finally Remus led him into the bedroom and they slept, still holding hands. Or rather, Sirius holding Remus’s hand. Not what he’d wanted when he’d set out the day before. But a little better than what he feared when Remus gave voice to what had been hovering between them since they met in the Shack. That moment when he had betrayed his lover.

When they woke, Remus fixed him another one of those enormous fry-ups. The amber eyes watched him intently as he ate. Then he said, “When you leave, don’t come back until you. Until you do what we said.” Looking down at his folded hands. “Because I meant what I said.” //I can’t do that again.//

The food sat heavily in Sirius’s stomach. He nodded. And left. It had been fifty-three days.

Now, back in the dim warehouse, he was almost looking forward to seeing Snape. Or at least not hating the idea.

Reality, of course, was different. A pop, and the dark voice. “Black.”

“Snape. Here’s the information.” He felt the jealousy racing through him. He forced it down ruthlessly.

Snape handed him a packet in exchange. A considering pause. “How is Lupin?”

This was his opportunity. “Um. I... I’m not sure.”

“Not sure?” He knew if he could see the other man, that eyebrow would be arched. “That’s not quite what I expected from love’s young dream.”

Prick. “Sod you! I’ve been on assignment. Haven’t seen him.”

“So? Use the token. Then apparate back. That’s what it’s for.” Condescension for the inferior mortal.

“Right, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” The jealousy surged up again. He’d started to think of it as dark green. Pond scum. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Wait until I’m in some remote corner doing some fucking useless assignment that you probably sent me on and then just pop on over to see him!” He gasped for breath. “Oh, shit.”

There was a pause. “Lumos.” Snape’s face appeared in the low light of his wand. “Black, you look like hell. Have a seat.” He pointed to a crate.

Sirius found himself obeying. He dropped his face into his hands. Snape pulled over another crate and sat opposite him.

“Well now, this is cozy.” Snape propped up his wand so it cast a circle of light over them. He stared at Sirius. “Black, despite the fact that you’re a psychotic idiot, I am going to attempt to help you. Please remember that I am not doing this for you, although the thought that you will be in my debt is almost indescribably delicious. Now. I thought that at this point you’d be, if you’ll excuse the expression, all shacked up and humping each other like the canines you are. So. What did you do to him?”

Sirius hated Snape for assuming that he was at fault and for being right about it. “We had. A disagreement.”

“A disagreement.”

“Yes,” Sirius gritted out.

“Why?”

This was hell. Snape would hold this one over him forever. “I was... jealous.” The word oozed green slime over his tongue.

A spark in the dark eyes. “Of me.”

“Among others.”

Snape actually looked surprised. “Others?”

“I went to the bar where he works, and there was a man talking to him. And someone held his hand when he gave him a tip. And when I was twenty-one I walked into our flat and he was owling somebody. And then six weeks after that I saw him waving to someone on the street.”

Sirius hung his head so he could imagine he was saying all this to someone else. Someone with a nice, kind face. “Once I went to pick him up at his office and a man was standing in there. Standing over him. Smiling. And another time we were at a restaurant and I went to get our capes and when I came back someone had sent him a drink.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “He came home from work one day and told me he’d had lunch with someone named Clorinthus. Clorinthus! We were in the park and he caught someone’s loose dog and the owner stood really close to him when he thanked him.” He halted to suck in another breath.

“Black. I think that’s enough.”

But Sirius couldn’t stop. “And he— he fucked you and he told me about it and I can’t stop thinking about it and I—”

“Black. SHUT UP.”

Sirius obeyed. He dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He could feel the dark gaze on him, but he didn’t look up. He couldn’t.

“Black. Tell me something. Have you always felt this way? More than your usual level of psychosis, I mean. When did it start?”

To the floor. “I thought it was— Azkaban but he said I’d been— before— I—” Helplessly. Hating Snape for hearing this. “I thought he might turn. I didn’t trust him.”

“Mm.” The little noise was surprisingly noncommittal. “You never trusted him? This is important, Black. Try to remember. Was there a time when this. These feelings. Got worse?”

Sirius thought. He ran through the memories that he had saved from the Dementors. “Oh shit. Shit! That little fucker!” He jumped up. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands!”

Snape was still sitting at the edge of the wand light. “Tell me.”

“Pettigrew,” he spat out. “He started telling me things. About Remus. How he was so powerful, so strong. He’d say that I was so lucky and look at me as if he couldn’t imagine what I’d done to get Remus to be with me—”

Snape gave a little snort.

“Sod off, Snape. I know I don’t deserve him. But Peter was— he would say it as if he knew Remus already had someone else lined up. And then he made it sound— he talked about how our system was so unfair to werewolves, didn’t let someone like Remus live up to his full potential, and how Peter was surprised more of them didn’t turn— I’ll kill him. I will tear him to shreds. I’ll throw him by his tail into—”

“Yes, Black, I get the picture. Well. It is my belief that Pettigrew was casting a jealousy charm on you. Your experiences in Azkaban would only have exacerbated the effects.”

Sirius sat down suddenly. “So I— how do I get rid of it?”

“Excellent question.” Sirius suddenly felt very, very sorry for Snape’s students. “Indeed. How do you ‘get rid’ of it. I’ll attribute your failure to remember this relatively simple cure to your ongoing dementia.” Snape picked up his wand and pointed it at Sirius, who froze. Snape waited a few seconds, lip curling in what on another man might have been a smile. “Finite Incantatum!”

Okay, maybe he was an idiot— he leaned to the side and threw up. Green bile spewed out of him. He sank to his knees, still vomiting helplessly. The spinach-colored pool slithered across the floor, whispering to him. //he’ll leave you he already has another lover you’re not good enough not strong enough someone else touched him someone else kissed him someone else fucked him fucked him fucked him and he liked it better// A strong hand on his shoulder pulled him back. He spat out the last remnants and dragged his sleeve across his mouth. Snape was still clasping his shoulder. Sirius stood shakily.

“Impressive,” remarked Snape, looking at the green blotch that was rapidly disappearing into the floor. “I shall cherish that sight for years to come.”

Sirius was too drained to snipe back. He compelled himself to say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Snape’s voice was suddenly free of all the characteristics Sirius usually associated with the man: condescension, disdain, indifference. “You should be aware that the jealousy charm only works that— spectacularly— well when there is already some element present for it to latch onto.”

“Oh.” Sirius felt dispirited.

Snape looked at him carefully. “I cannot believe I’m about to do this,” he muttered. Louder. “You will feel much better in roughly twenty hours. I suggest that you go to the Lupin family home at that time. You know it, don’t you?”

Sirius nodded. This new Snape was quite a revelation. He didn’t like him any better, but he was, despite himself, impressed. “Er... why?”

“Full moon,” Snape said succinctly. “Shed.” He settled his robes around himself. “And for god’s sake, man, don’t open your orders for at least a week.” He disapparated.

Part IX: What Do I Get

The moon had already risen by the time Sirius apparated on the edge of the Lupin property. After Snape left him in the warehouse, he’d fainted. Later he calculated that he had been out cold for somewhere between eight and twelve hours. When he awoke, he dragged himself into dog form, left the warehouse, and scavenged for food. He had managed to find a playground and scored several cheese sandwiches from a clutch of little girls before their teacher ran him off. Then he’d curled up in a ball in an alley and slept again. So by the time he started traveling to Remus’s family home, it was already night.

Now he shifted into Padfoot and ran up to the shed. A complete lack of sound meant that Remus had cast a silencing charm. He saw something high up on the shed door. He shifted back into human form and looked. “Mr. P” was written on an envelope in Remus’s distinctive hand. He ripped it open.

//Don’t try to come in the shed. It’s locked from the inside. Severus told me a little about what happened. Go into the house, find the carton in the front room, and look through it. Eat whatever you like except the pork roast.//

A space on the parchment, as if Remus had hesitated before adding the next bit.

//I missed you.//

No signature.

Sirius folded the parchment carefully with trembling hands and tucked it into his chest pocket. It was the first thing he had of Remus in more than twelve years. Aside from the boxers, that was. He didn’t think he could really count those.

He explored the kitchen’s offerings. The pork roast was under a cooking/warming charm in the oven and smelled like heaven. Remus had always been a good cook, something to do with his sensitivity to smells. Sirius found a packet of sausages and fried them up, eating them straight out of the pan with his fingers. He chased them down with a quart of orange juice, taking the hint from the note stuck to it that read, “Scurvy is unattractive”. Then he took a long, luxurious shower, pilfering what seemed to be Mrs. Lupin’s old soap, as it was pink and smelled of freesias. A real hairbrush!

Dressed, clean, and eating a box of chocolate biscuits, he went into the front room. The nondescript carton, already open, bore the name “Robert J. Moon” on the side. So. Something from Remus’s Muggle days. Sirius sat on the sofa and peered into the carton. Neatly-stacked notebooks, envelopes, cassette tapes, a record album. It all had a freshly-tidied air. Perhaps Remus had arranged it for him. Obediently, he took out the first notebook. He saw that it was a scrapbook of newspaper clippings. The first page was a listing of odd names and dates:

//14/1 Sunset City, Red Fly. 86 Club.

14/1 Spastic Child, Duncan’s Revenge, The Marks. Replay Bar.

15/1 Mishmash, The Riffles. Star Lounge.//

One entry had an arrow pointing to it from the margin, and a note. “First gig!” Not in Remus’s hand. He read it.

//17/1 Dying Sparrow, Dr. Who’s Scarf, The Howl. 86 Club.//

He turned the page. Another one of the lists, and another arrow:

//20/2 The Blasters, The Howl, Unshod. Marko’s.//

There were many more of these. He kept flipping through the book until he got to an actual article.

// Howl Proves Real Music Still Lives

Crowds at London clubs have been talking about new band The Howl ever since their first gig at the 86 Club four months ago. The band already has a steady following and is mounting a short club tour to major cities next month. The Howl formed when guitarist Jeremy Ribbans, his sister, former Slightly Sick bassist Samantha Ribbans, and ex-Love Vomit drummer Luke Bankston met up with guitarist and vocalist Robert Moon. Jeremy Ribbans describes the band’s sound as “real music”, and fans clearly agree. No synths for this group; but the traditional lineup produces a distinctly non-traditional sound.

Ribbans says that all the band members collaborate on writing their supercharged, high-energy songs, and that he and Moon share lyric-writing duties, with Ribbans taking on the more explicitly political tunes. But Ribbans adds, “I think Robert’s songs deal with many similar themes of betrayal, loss, being deceived, depression, hating what’s around you, as mine do. His are just more metaphorical.” Asked if he agrees with this statement, Moon simply shrugs and says, “Yes, why not.”//

Sirius devoured the rest of the article and flipped hastily through the book. A few more articles, more of what Sirius realized were concert calendars.

The moon was still high in the sky. He opened one of the envelopes and a cache of Muggle photos cascaded into his lap. They chronicled a group of young people, apparently at parties and in bars. In some of them Remus was visible, usually on the edges of the picture, looking blank. He lifted out the record album and saw The Howl in silver letters on a black cover. He turned it over and read the song titles. Maggie’s Gotta Go; Union Unity; On the Dole; Flowers for the Strikers. And then: Disenchantment. Lost Feeling. Never Again. Empty. Broken Spell.

Sirius scrabbled through the box. His searching fingers grabbed onto something hard-edged. He hauled it out. It was a rectangular box, about an inch high, that rattled slightly. It gave him the strong sense of images and movement. The label read: Manchester 17/5. He turned it over in his hands thoughtfully, then pointed his wand at it and said, “Activatus!”

Remus appeared in front of him. He was standing on a stage, holding a red guitar. The view shifted to include a drummer behind his drums; a young woman, hair teased and bleached, with a bass; and another guitarist. Sirius recognized a younger version of the man who had spoken to Remus in the bar. Suddenly they crashed into music. “Ow! Reductio Sonorum!”

The noise settled into an acceptable range. Sirius was riveted by the sight of a 26-year-old Remus, hair flying about his face as he hunched over his guitar, pacing back and forth on the stage. He remembered that one of the articles had mentioned “Moon’s charismatic stage presence, odd because he never engages in stage banter and rarely makes eye contact with the crowd”. Remus sang several songs in that mesmerizing, throaty voice, still with the singular focus on what he was doing that had drawn Sirius ever since he had known his lover. He watched, fascinated, as the band played its set. Then the other guitarist— Ribbans— was leaning into his mic.

“We gotta go!”

A roar from the unseen crowd.

“What’s that? You want another?”

Roar. He and the bass player met by the drums. A quick conference. Remus was standing to one side, retuning his guitar. Ribbans returned to his mic. “Okay, just one more. It’s by one of our favorite groups. And Robert doesn’t know it, but he’s going to sing this one. I overheard him doing it in the studio last week.”

Remus looked up sharply. The drummer counted off, and the other band members burst into a driving, instantly catchy riff. Remus wasn’t playing, but staring intensely at Ribbans. The other guitarist walked over to him, still playing, and shouted something in his ear. Finally Remus shot him a last glare and strode back to his mic. His guitar joined in. And then he was singing, in a ferocious, hoarse near-scream that Sirius had never heard from him before.

//I just want a lover like any other
What do I get?
I only want a friend who’ll stay to the end
What do I get?//

Sirius froze. The song, and the damning lyrics spat out in that raging voice, went on relentlessly.

//I’m in distress I need a caress
What do I get?
I’m not on the make I just need a break
What do I get?//

Sirius managed to pull his eyes from the hollow-eyed face to look at the other band members. The bass player was staring at Remus. She walked up behind him and he lurched away from her, into the mic.

//I only get sleepless nights
Alone here in my half-empty bed//

An almost-sob on that line. Given the look on the other guitarist’s face, Remus had clearly skipped a line or two. Remus stepped back, knocking into the bass player and sending her stumbling. She lost a couple of notes, but kept playing. Now Remus was playing the solo as if he wanted to tear the music out of his guitar and rip it into pieces.

The other guitarist sang the chorus. His voice sounded sweet, pretty. //What do I get, what do I get.// He looked over at Remus and sang the next verse as well. //I only get sleepless nights, alone here in my half-empty bed. For you things seem to turn out right, I wish they’d only happen to me instead.// The lines Remus had dropped. //What do I get, what do I get.//

Then the snarling, fierce half-scream again.

//What do I get
Well let me tell you now
What do I get, no love
What do I get, no sleep at night
What do I get, nothing that’s nice
What do I get, nothing at all
At all, at all, at all//

The words repeated almost involuntarily. Remus threw his head back suddenly and stared straight into the camera lens. His eyes were blazing.

//Cause I don’t get you!//

The song stopped. There was silence on the recording. Then the unseen audience started screaming. Remus turned away, unplugged his guitar, and stalked off the stage.

Sirius was shaking. He whispered, “Finite Incantatum.”

Part X: The End, At Last

Remus stepped out of the shed. He stopped. Sirius was standing there. They looked at each other for a few long moments. Then, tentatively, Sirius stretched out his hand. Remus took it in his.

“I drew you a bath.” Sirius led him into the house. “If you want, I’ll bring you your food there.”

That sounded like one of Sirius’s more brilliant ideas. He nodded. Half an hour later Sirius helped him out of the tub and toweled him off. “Sirius, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” A faintly desperate note. “I want to.” He wrapped Remus in his bathrobe. “Sleep?”

“Mm.” He’d been falling asleep in the tub. “Stay with me.”

“Yes.” The blue eyes warmed. “Of course.”

He woke several hours later to a soft touch on his head. Sirius was lying on his side, propped on one elbow, carding his fingers lightly through Remus’s hair. “Remus.”

“Mm?”

“Want some tea?”

He nodded. Sirius sprang up. He uncovered a tray with a steaming teapot. Remus sat up and took the mug. He took an injudicious sip. “Shit!” He glared at Sirius. “Not everyone likes it strong enough to tar roofs with, you know.”

“Oh. Um. Oops.” Sirius tried to look abashed.

“Sod it, let’s just go straight to the scotch.” Remus hung upside down over the edge of the bed and hauled out a bottle of Glenlivet. He took a hefty swig.

“Remus, that’s so— decadent. I like it.” Sirius took the bottle from his hand and poured a slug into the rejected mug of tea. They sat back against the headboard.

“Um. I have some things to tell you.”

He nodded. “Sev told me what happened in the warehouse. The jealousy charm.” He reached for the scotch again, stared at the label. “I’m sorry. I should have known it was— that it wasn’t you.”

“No, it— that’s one of the things I have to tell you.” Sirius shifted to face him. “It was me, at least to start with. Um. The jealousy.” The hoarse voice dropped. “The fear.”

“Fear— of me?” Of the monster. The beast. The savage creature.

“Fear of—” Sirius drank his laced tea. “Shit, this is hard.” A pause. “Okay. Um. Remember when you were... in my memories?”

Remus nodded.

“And then you said you hadn’t known how I felt.” Sirius looked at him until he nodded again. “So. Er. How did I feel?”

Remus stared at him.

“Help me out here, Remus. How did I feel? What did I feel?” Insistent. “Since the day my frog jumped on your arm on the Hogwarts Express. And I know you smelled me sometimes. How. Did. I. Feel?”

Remus drank some more scotch. “Well, the smell— doesn’t always work accurately when my emotions are in there. But. I think you felt. In awe.” He shot a glance at the other man. “I think you were amazed when— when I wanted to be with you.” Trying to get it right. “I think you didn’t always believe that I—” Sirius was correct. This was hard. “That I loved you as much as you loved me.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “So I was— afraid— that one day you would. You would—” His voice caught. “Leave me. Figure it out and leave me.”

Remus dropped the bottle and reached for Sirius. The other man came into his arms gratefully, leaning his head against his chest. Remus stroked the soft hair. “Never. I would never. I couldn’t.” A kiss to the top of the head. “Even when I told you— that— two months ago, I don’t know if I could have... made it stick.”

He felt Sirius heave a sigh against him. “That was— that was one of the—” He stopped. Started over. “It’s— good— that you did it.” A very low voice. “I don’t want you to be hurt anymore.”

He tightened his grasp.

“I looked at the things in the carton.” Sirius rested his hand over Remus’s heart. “The man in the bar. Jeremy?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Sirius added hastily, “I just—want to know. I’m not. Not jealous.” He could feel a little shiver as Sirius said the last word. “You can smell me.”

“No, it’s all right. Just— I’ve never talked about it. The band.”

“Start with the easy part,” Sirius suggested. He sat up and reached for the scotch. “Did you like it?”

Yes, that was easy enough. “No.” He needed to explain. “It helped me— not think. When I was playing.”

“That man. Jeremy. He was angry with you. When I saw him.”

“Um. He thinks I killed his sister.”

The blue eyes widened.

“Sirius. Do you know what heroin is?” He was about to spill his werewolf guts again. But it was starting to feel. Not good. But right.

“A Muggle drug?”

“Yes. Very strong. Samantha— you inject it. Samantha shot me up. It was—” He let himself fall briefly into memory. “It made me stop thinking. Completely. So I did it. Frequently. Um. You know how I have to drink a lot in order to get drunk?”

Sirius nodded. The blue eyes were focused intently upon him.

“Same with heroin. I— for most people it’s very addictive. Physically. That didn’t happen with me. So when the— when I wanted to not think, I’d shoot up.” Something else to say here. “That’s what’s in the box under my sofa.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “But Samantha. Um. She thought she—” was in love with me. No, that wasn’t it. Skip that part. “One night we were shooting up and she did the same amount as I did, but it killed her.”

Sirius handed him the scotch. He drank some gratefully. A long silence. “I don’t do it anymore,” Remus said. “Not since you— not since I saw you again.” A shorter pause. “That’s it.”

Sirius cupped Remus’s chin in his hand and stroked his thumb over the cleft there. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Mm.” Daringly. “Are we— better now?”

Sirius smiled. “Getting there.” The beautiful, too-thin face sobered. “I have one more thing to say.” A deep breath. “I can’t promise I’m never going to be— jealous—” the shiver again— “but I do trust you. I realized— it finally sank in. How much you’ve done to be with me.” Another deep, shuddering breath. “I love you. And I believe you love me.”

Remus’s heart was pounding. “Yes.”

Sirius’s hand slid around to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Their mouths met. Remus moaned and ran his tongue over the full lips. They parted at his insistence and he stroked his tongue inside, savoring the taste of his lover. He inhaled deeply. “God!” He jerked away.

“What?” Sirius looked dazed. “Remus?”

“For god’s sake, Sirius. You smell like my mother!” He put his hands on Sirius’s chest and pushed.

“Oh, Remus. Can’t you just ignore it?” Sirius leaned in. “Please?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not fucking anyone who smells like my mother. That’s just— wrong. Take a shower.”

The blue eyes lit up. “Will you make it worth my while?”

“Yes, I promise. Now get in the sodding shower!”

Sirius grabbed him. “Only if you come with me.”

He pretended to consider. “In that case I think you should make it worth my while.”

“That can be arranged,” Sirius murmured huskily. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t get saucy, or I’ll have to take stern measures.” Remus slid off the bed, leaving his robe behind. “Now come along.” He led the way to the bathroom, knowing Sirius was staring at his arse. He turned on the water and then started undressing Sirius briskly.

“Could you tell me more about the stern measures?” Sirius tried to suppress his grin.

“All right, that’s it.” Remus picked Sirius up and placed him under the running water, still wearing— “Those are my boxers!”

Sirius peeled the wet shorts off hastily. “Oops.”

“You perv.” Remus kissed him, then grabbed his soap. Pine. He lathered up his hands and ran them over Sirius’s body. His lover leaned against the tile wall in pleasure as Remus washed him thoroughly. When Remus put the soap away, Sirius complained, “You missed something.” He took Remus’s hand and tried to pull it to his erection.

“Nope. Those are the stern measures. No touching.” Deadpan.

Sirius was agape. “But— I just— wow. Was I that saucy?”

Remus couldn’t help it. He laughed. “No, but you are supposed to be the one making the shower worth my while.”

“Well, all right.” A mock sigh. Sirius kissed his mouth deeply, then pulled away. “Why did you call me a perv, anyway?”

“Siri, you stole my underwear and wore it. That’s pretty much the textbook definition of perv.” He wrapped his arms around the other man and thrust his hips against him. “You know, there are more— satisfying— ways to get into my pants.”

Another kiss. “Right as usual.” Sirius licked his neck, the hollow at the base of his throat, his collarbone.

“Oh yes, that’s one of them.”

More kisses and nips over his sensitive neck. Then Sirius was sucking on his earlobe, biting it. Remus moaned. Sirius turned him so his back was against the wall. The warm shower spray was coming over them sideways. Slick hands explored his chest, pinched his nipples, skated down to his hips. Remus was panting. He put his hands on Sirius’s broad shoulders and pushed down. His lover knelt obligingly, eyes closed against the water that streamed over his face, hair, body. Remus grabbed a handful of wet hair with one hand and his cock with the other. He brushed his erection lightly over the full, wet lips. They parted and he thrust in.

Sirius was still holding his hips, pressing him against the wall. Cool tile on his back, warm water pouring over him, the hot strong mouth sucking his cock; he heard himself gasping and whining. Then Sirius brought a wet finger to his arse and pushed it in slowly. “Ah!” The finger worked in and out, hitting his prostate. He tried to thrust harder into the ardently sucking mouth, but Sirius’s other hand held him still. A second finger entered him, and a fiery tongue flicked over the underside and head of his cock with every long suck. He looked down and watched breathlessly as he fucked Sirius’s gorgeous face. “God, I want to come in your mouth. Come all over you.”

The fingers began moving in and out more quickly. The hand on his hip slid between his legs and cupped his balls, stroked them firmly, then moved to the base of his cock and began pumping. “Ah!” He felt his hands and feet tingling, pure sensation traveling along his nerves and gathering in all the places Sirius was touching, arse, cock, balls, tightening and tightening until he didn’t know if he felt pain or pleas—ecstasy shot through him and he came, shooting into Sirius’s mouth. He slumped against the wall. Sirius withdrew his fingers carefully and stood up. He shut the water off. Remus felt himself being wrapped in a towel for the second time that day. He sat on the edge of the tub as Sirius quickly dried both of them off. Then Sirius picked him up and carried him to the bedroom, or tried to. He staggered to the bed and dropped Remus unceremoniously on it.

“Have you put on weight?” Sirius flopped down next to him.

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Mock horror.

“Oh no, my love, you’re just as svelte and lovely as the day we met.”

“Right, that’s really pervy. I was eleven!” //My love.// He smiled and crawled into Sirius’s arms. A passionate kiss left him breathless again.

“Where’s the—” Sirius broke away.

“Um...” Remus hung upside down over the edge of the bed again.

“Oh, good idea.” Sirius began caressing his arse. Remus felt the sensuous lips on his cheeks. He moaned. “Siri, please.” A finger ran down his cleft, over his opening. The warm, gentle tongue followed, fluttering over his hole repeatedly. His hand closed on the lube and he held it up. Strong hands pulled him back fully onto the bed; the sucking, probing mouth never left him. He was thrusting mindlessly against the sheets. Then it stopped. “No...”

Sirius turned him over. “I want you to ride me.” Sirius laid back, half-propped against the heap of pillows, and drew Remus into his embrace. His oily fingers returned to explore the sensitive opening. Remus bit at his neck. Two fingers entered him quickly. “Oh yes.” Sirius’s hard cock was pressing against his belly; he rubbed against it insistently. A third finger. Absently he noticed that he was whining very loudly. Sirius pulled his fingers out and squeezed some lube over his own erection. Remus watched, entranced, as Sirius touched himself. He edged forward and, reaching behind himself, took hold of the throbbing cock and brought it to his entrance. Sirius groaned. “Want to fuck you so badly.”

Hands on his hips guided him down. He bit his lip as he slid over the impaling shaft. It was excruciatingly good. He lifted up slightly, then pressed down harder. Again. Again. And again, until Sirius was completely inside him. He touched his lover’s flushed cheek and started moving up and down.

“Oh— that’s—” Sirius sounded even hoarser than usual. “You are so hot. So tight. I just want to—” the hands gripped his hips even more tightly— “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you...” Remus moved faster, angling slightly so Sirius, bucking up into him, would rub over the sensitive gland. He put one hand on his own erection and started fisting himself. The other hand was still caressing Sirius’s face. He drank in the look there: eyes half-closed, lips parted, an expression of total abandon. The blue eyes opened more widely and Sirius whispered, “you’re gorgeous. So— fucking— hot—” Sirius was practically slamming him up and down on his prick now. Remus stroked himself furiously. Again he felt his orgasm building up. Abruptly he pulled his hand away and stopped moving. Sirius moaned. “No...”

He leaned down and kissed the panting mouth. Then, clutching the other man’s sides with his legs, he fell back carefully. Sirius came with him, folding up his own legs, so that he was on top of Remus. Remus grabbed his own thighs and pulled his legs to his chest. Sirius shifted a little, then started driving in relentlessly. Every thrust was harder and deeper inside Remus, who shook with each pounding stroke. The spike of orgasm was moving through him again so that all he could feel was the cock in his arse, his painfully tight balls, his burning erection. He wanted to stay forever in this one moment, poised on the edge of pleasure, Sirius’s hair falling in a dark soft curtain around their faces. Then Sirius gripped him and started pulling on his cock. Remus howled and came explosively, the tremors prolonged by the feel of his lover spasming deep inside. He let his legs fall. Sirius slumped over him, idly kissing his throat.

“Perhaps I should use your mother’s soap more often.” Sirius pulled out and moved to the side, slinging his arm over Remus’s waist.

“Don’t even think about it.” He moved so that they were pressed together. He rubbed his come-covered belly against Sirius.

“Why is all the good stuff under the bed?” Sirius was petting his hair.

“Didn’t really have time to unpack. You know, before the change.” He’d just opened his bag and let it all fall on the floor.

“Mm.” Sirius turned Remus’s face toward him, kissed his lips. “Padfoot will be there for the next one. I promise.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to have to take those stern measures again.” Warmed, he kissed Sirius hard.

“Remus... I need a few minutes before we go again.”

Another reassuring kiss. “These are the drawbacks of having a mere human as a lover.”

“I swear, just a little break and I’ll demonstrate the advantages.”

Remus chuckled. He rescued the bottle of scotch from a precarious position near the foot of the bed and took a sip, then kissed Sirius, dripping the alcohol into his mouth. His tongue tangled around the other man’s for a second before he pulled back. “Okay.” He rested his head on his lover’s shoulder again.

“Moony...” He felt Sirius tense as he realized what he’d called Remus.

“Mm?” He ignored it. He thought he might be able to rescue that part of himself after all.

“Nothing. It just came out.” A hint of worry there.

“It’s all right.” His hand traced lazy circles around Sirius’s nipples. “It’s fine.” He shifted and realized they were beginning to stick together. He detached himself carefully and fetched a wet cloth from the bathroom. When he walked back in the room, he was treated to the sight of Sirius in a long-limbed sprawl across the bed, black hair spread over the pillow like a dark sunburst.

Sirius looked over at him. “What is it?”

He growled.

“Oh no, THE GROWL!” Sirius pulled up the covers hastily.

Remus marched to the foot of the bed and yanked them all off. He jumped onto the bed and, growling, advanced toward his lover, who had curled into a little ball, or as little as a tall man could manage. “Don’t resist. Lie back and think of England.”

Sirius whimpered.

“No, Siri, I just want to help you clean up. Really.” He gave an innocent smile. Sirius stared at him suspiciously. It was possible that he’d overdone it with the innocent thing. “All right, have it your way.” He dropped the damp cloth over Sirius’s face. “See if I ever do anything nice for you again.” He turned his back to the other man. Shifting noises behind him. The used cloth sailed by his head and landed with a plop on the floor.

A hand on his back, lightly massaging. He arched into the touch. Strong fingers rubbed over his spine. “Can I ply you with sweet nothings?” Sirius murmured into his ear.

“Mm... As long as you don’t stop what you’re doing.”

Sirius rolled him over so that they were face to face, then put his arm around him and resumed the massage. “I was reading the other day, and I—”

“You were reading? Who are you, and what have you done with my lover?”

Sirius grinned. “It turns out that Muggle libraries let you stay inside all day if you need someplace to go. But,” he sighed dramatically, “since they don’t have dirty magazines, I had to entertain myself in other ways. Anyway, the point is, I found something that made me think of you.” He suddenly looked a little shy. “A poem.”

Remus recognized Sirius’s courtship behavior. Bringing Remus a little treat of some kind. He stroked the dark hair, still in damp tangles.

“I don’t remember all of it, but it said: ‘If ever any beauty I did see, which I desired, and got, it was but a dream of thee. Love, all love of other sights controls, and makes one little room an everywhere.’” Sirius paused. “Then there’s another bit: ‘My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, and true plain hearts do in the faces rest; where can we find two better hemispheres, without sharp north, without declining west? What dies was not mixed equally; if our two loves be one, or you and I love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.’” Another pause. “Um. That’s it.”

Remus couldn’t breathe. His heart was racing. He touched his lover’s face with an unsteady hand. “Sirius, that’s beautiful.”

“Not too mushy?”

Remus chuckled. “No. Definitely not too mushy.”

A smile spread over the handsome face. Sirius captured his hand and kissed it, then kissed his lips lightly. “Good.” A second kiss. “I feel good.”

“Mm?”

“Having all that— jealousy— out of me. Gone. I feel. Normal. Er. More normal.”

Remus caressed the curving mouth with his fingertips. “Good.” He kissed the inviting lips. He waited for a second. “Does this mean I can growl now?”

Sirius gave a sigh of mock resignation. “I suppose. If you insist.” He ran his tongue over Remus’s fingers and sucked them in abruptly. Remus moaned, remembering his cock in that wet heat. He let his other hand trail down to Sirius’s chest and began pinching his nipples gently. “More,” said Sirius around the fingers. Remus twisted the nipple he was toying with. He leaned in and bit at the long neck. He pushed Sirius to his back and straddled him, letting his hands roam over his lover’s chest, pinching the reddened nipples with every pass. Sirius was caressing and squeezing his arse. Remus felt a tentative finger touch his opening.

He leaned down and whispered into the other man’s ear, “I want to fuck you this time.” He felt Sirius’s cock twitch against his stomach. “Yes. Just let me...” The finger at his hole moved in quickly, wriggled around, pressed against the prostate, and withdrew. “Siri!” Remus was very, very hard. He bit Sirius’s neck again and moved to the side so he could slide his hand between the parted legs. He took Sirius’s balls in his hand and played with them. He felt them tighten in his hand. He rolled over, grabbed the lube, and covered two of his fingers. He ran them over and around Sirius’s hole until his lover was squirming and panting.

“Please!” Quickly he put in one finger, then the other. Sirius cried out.

“Too much?”

“God, no.” Sirius kissed him deeply. “Not enough.”

Remus finger-fucked the hot, tight arse. He heard himself growling. Sirius grinned at him. “I take— it you like— what you’re— doing.” The words were punctuated by little gasps as Remus scissored his fingers inside the slick hole.

“Mm... I always like seeing you get fucked,” he whispered.

Sirius moaned. “God, Remus. When you— say things— oh!” Remus was pushing against the sensitive gland. He pulled his hand out, squeezed out more lube, and put three fingers in, moving them in and out as slowly as he could stand. Sirius was pushing his hard cock against Remus’s belly. He scraped his nails down over his lover’s torso, pinching the nipples again on the way, and stroked the leaking head lightly. He raised his fingers to his own mouth and sucked the pre-come off. Sirius’s taste in his mouth made him growl again. “Tell me you’re mine.” He sped up the movement of his fingers. Sirius’s hands were clutching at him, holding his arms, raking down his back, gripping his arse.

“Yes, yours. All yours—” Sirius gasped. “God! Do it!”

Remus withdrew his fingers and rolled Sirius onto his stomach, shoving a couple of pillows under his hips. Sirius was pushing against the pillows; Remus grabbed his hips and held him still. “Don’t move.” He parted the firm cheeks and looked at the stretched opening. Thinking about his cock there made him growl again. He stroked himself with his slick hand and held the tip of his prick against Sirius. He didn’t move.

Sirius moaned. Remus could feel him struggling to move, push back. “I said don’t move.” They stayed there for a long moment. Remus listened to Sirius breathing heavily in the quiet room. Then he pushed forward, into the enveloping heat. Another throaty moan from Sirius. Remus thrust in and out deliberately, bracing himself on the broad shoulders. He nuzzled into the mass of black hair, then licked at Sirius’s ear. Sirius was writhing underneath him, whispering, “yours, fuck me, love your cock, fuck me, fuck me, yours, all yours...”

Listening to the hoarse voice was driving Remus mad. He drove in over and over again, biting the nape of Sirius’s neck. One little room an everywhere... yes. He moved enough to slide his hand beneath them and grab the other man’s prick.

“Ah!” Sirius pushed into his hand, then back into his demanding thrusts.

Remus buried his face into the tousled hair again and murmured, “Yes, mine and I’m fucking you and you love it, fucking you so hard oh Siri—” he was barely aware of what he was saying as he buried his cock into Sirius, as he stroked his lover’s throbbing erection, as he felt the pleasure rising up to take over his body— “fucking you, love it, love you, fucking your sweet arse—” Sirius groaned and came over his hand. His arse convulsed around Remus. “Fucking you, so good, want to come in you, so hot—” The ecstasy spun through him and he came ferociously.

He realized he had collapsed onto Sirius’s strong back. He could still feel his lover shaking under him. He pulled out carefully and shifted to the side, winding his arms around Sirius. He drowsed briefly, woke to Sirius kissing his neck.

“Remus. I want— Can you come away with me?”

“But I thought—” Dumbledore had you by the balls again. Whoops. “Where?”

“You will?” Sirius looked delighted.

Remus considered for a moment. “Yes.” He ran his fingers lightly up and down Sirius’s back. “I want to be with you.” The happiness rose up off Sirius’s skin. He smiled.

“I wanted to go back to the tropics, but I need to stay around England for a while, because of Harry and this Tri-Wizard thing. Maybe Wales? I put Buckbeak in the forest there.” Sirius had been planning. Remus recognized this behavior with pleasure. “It was nice of the kids to give him to me, but a hippogriff is a damn inconvenient pet. But you can transform there. And we could—we could go on vacation. We could Apparate to Tahiti, and lie on the beach, and drink those ridiculous drinks out of coconut shells...” Sirius yawned hugely.

“We’ll sort out the details when we wake up,” Remus murmured into the black hair.

“Mm...” Sirius pulled himself to the surface abruptly. “Remus.”

He looked into the blue eyes.

“We’re better. We’re good.” A faint note of inquiry.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” He pulled Sirius’s head to his shoulder again. “Yes.”

As Remus fell asleep, his lover pressed against him, he realized that he actually believed it.

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