The Grey and the Gold: Black Thirteen
He stared into the inky darkness of the room, the wind whispering through the trees outside. His bed companion stirred for a moment, sighing, rustling the crisp sheets, before slipping back into sleep. He drew a quavering breath, and shifted to lean, lightly, against the other in his bed. Gently he planted a kiss against a warm, pale, scarred shoulder and watched as the other moved again, a smile draping across the man's features.
They were not yet again lovers, though Remus suspected they would be, in time. For now, they simply needed the comfort proximity afforded them. Thirteen long years separated them from each other. Thirteen years of incredible pain and loneliness. Thirteen years' worth of guilt had come crashing down on his head. How could he have ever believed that Sirius would turn James and Lily over? He'd been with Sirius the very night before Halloween 1981, and saw no mark, nor had there been suspicious absences.
Resting his head against Sirius' shoulder, he sighed. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty. He knew that, intellectually. But understanding it was completely different. His heart twisted when he thought of the years Sirius spent weathering the dementors, suffering everything they had to offer but the madness. Knowing the entire world had turned on him, thinking that he had betrayed his best friends.
Remus was also proud that his Padfoot, his Sirius, had survived thirteen years of hell on Earth, and come out mostly intact. It was a bit twisted, but it was true. He traced a feather-light finger down the stuck-out ribs, the thin waist and jutting hips, grazing the cotton of the other's pyjamas. He'd need feeding up and some sun, but Sirius would be right as rain again someday. Back, or almost back, to his debonair self. The thought made Remus smile in the dark.
“Love you,” he whispered softly, resting his head against Sirius' shoulder, lips brushing skin, “More than you know.”