Fic: Ambient Light
Title: Ambient Light
Author: pavlablack
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, language, sexual content
Word Count: 3230
Summary: A year after finding out Sirius is innocent, Remus awakens to a knock at the door. A Lie Low at Lupin's Fic
Author's Notes: The first time Remus and Sirius see each other after the Shrieking Shack incident in POA.
Remus was dreaming as the wolf again, and he smelled fear. He crouched low in the forest, listening. The rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig, and then he was running and leaping and striking, tearing into soft flesh, blood dripping down his muzzle and coursing down his throat, his heart pounding thump-thump-thump in his ears.
Thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump.
He jerked awake, feeling not cool moss beneath him but twisted, sweaty sheets. His body felt foreign, still at odds with its human form, and he leapt off the mattress in one movement, howling in pain when his hands and knees landed hard on the floor.
Thump-thump-thump.
A knock at the door.
He righted himself slowly, flexing his joints and cursing as he pulled on trousers and a jumper. He always made it a practice to answer the door in Muggle clothes, not that he had many visitors in any form, and certainly not in the middle of the night. But if experience had taught him anything, it was that one couldn't be too careful. He stashed his wand behind his back, made his way down the narrow hallway, and cracked open the front door.
Sirius Black was standing on his doorstep, looking as disheveled and distressed as the last time Remus had seen him, nearly a year ago. Remus wasn't sure if his heart was beating so fast from the remnants of his dream or because he was suddenly transported back to that last night in the Shrieking Shack, torn between shock and euphoria at seeing the man again.
"Remus," Sirius croaked. "Can I come in?"
Perhaps a bit of the wolf still lingered in Remus's skin, for he felt his hackles rise. "What on earth are you doing here at this hour, after all this time? And why didn't you send a Patronus first?"
"Couldn't conjure one," Sirius said, running his hand through his hair and fixing his face somewhere between a grimace and a grin. For a moment Remus saw a glimpse of the vulnerable, guarded boy he fell in love with all those years ago.
So he did what he always did-he let Sirius in.
*
*
*
"Did you get in touch with Mundungus?" Remus asked, hanging his jacket by the door. It felt strange to address anything but the emptiness he'd grown accustomed to, but there Sirius was, sitting at the kitchen table as if he'd never left. Morning sun poured through the window and sliced him in two, half shadow, half light.
Remus's eyes wandered down to the focus of Sirius's attention, and saw long, bony fingers tracing patterns over a black leather book. He felt his stomach muscles constrict; he had forgotten about the photo album. "Sirius?" He walked over and touched the man's shoulder before thinking about it.
"Yeah," Sirius nodded, pulling away as if burned. "Flooed him an hour ago. What about Arabella?"
"She's in," Remus said, turning away. He grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses from the cupboard, then set them down on the table. It didn't matter that it was morning; it felt like the end of a long, hard night. "Has been, really, since the beginning."
"Well, I suppose that's about all we can do for now," Sirius said, not meeting Remus's eyes. "All I can do anyway. Dumbledore told me to lie low here. Guess I'm too much of a risk out and about."
"Of course," Remus said tightly.
"I went back to my old room while you were gone, thought I'd go through some things."
"I thought you might." Remus loosened the cap of the bottle, fighting a desire to turn it up and drink the entire thing.
"And I found this," Sirius said, pushing the photo album across the table toward Remus.
"Sirius-"
"Most of the pictures are ruined," Sirius said. "I guess you didn't know when you magicked me out that it would have that effect. Sort of like tampering with a memory-it muddies things up. They're all blurry now."
Remus poured himself a large glass and pushed the bottle over to Sirius. "I tried to fix it. But there was just too much damage."
"It's okay," Sirius shrugged, pouring himself a drink and knocking his glass against Remus's, a mockery of a toast. "Suppose I would have done the same thing."
You did, Remus thought bitterly, downing his whiskey. You did and I still hate you for it.
"All magic leaves traces, you know," Sirius continued, twirling the liquid in his glass and staring into it. "I could feel it in my room too-everything looks the same as it did before I left. But it's not. Is it?" Sirius voice shook, and part of Remus wanted to reach across the table and touch a finger to his cheek; part of him wanted to say, good, I'm glad it hurts, you deserve it after what you did to me, to all of us.
But he didn't do either of those things. He stood up and set his glass in the sink. "No, it's not."
*
*
*
"What I don't understand," Sirius said in a rough voice, "is why Peter is still there."
Remus nearly lost his grip on the kettle, sloshing water all over the counter. When he had entered the kitchen a moment ago, Sirius's head was resting atop his forearm on the table, one hand laid flat against the photo album, the other curled loosely around the empty bottle.
"Still where?" Remus asked warily, turning on the stove and setting the kettle in place. He wiped the counter down, then searched for the strongest tea he could find, taking a perverse sort of pleasure in slamming the cupboard doors and setting two mugs hard on the counter. Damn Sirius for finishing the Firewhiskey, for not just letting things be.
"Here," Sirius said, and Remus turned to see him jamming his fingers against a photograph. "He's distorted, they all are, but he's still here. I can understand you erasing me when you thought I betrayed James and Lily-"
Not just James and Lily.
"-but when you found out it was Peter, why didn't you erase him too?"
Because I wasn't in love with Peter. Because I just didn't have the energy for it. Remus sighed. "Everything was already ruined. I didn't see the point."
"Then why keep it at all?" Sirius's bloodshot eyes burned into Remus's.
"I don't know." He had asked himself the same question the night James and Lily were killed, the night he lost everything that mattered. After rushing off to see Dumbledore and being told there was nothing he could do, he got drunk at a Muggle pub and stumbled back to the flat, intending to tear Sirius's room apart. But instead, he fell onto Sirius's rumpled bed, clutching a pillow against his chest, the smell of Sirius assaulting his nose. He thought, Now I will never know what it's like to fall asleep in this bed and wake up with him lying next to me. He thought, If I'd just told him, maybe things would be different. He cried until he had no tears left, feeling pathetic and wasted, and the next morning he took one last look at Sirius's room before casting a permanent locking charm on the door.
It had taken him hours to undo it last year, outed from Hogwarts and exhausted from finding Sirius and Peter, from transforming without the Wolfsbane, from finding out Sirius was gone, again. He had thought he would air the room out, get it ready in case Sirius ever did return. But instead he found himself taking his wand to the space, trying to erase Sirius from his life, even knowing as he did so that was impossible.
But Sirius didn't need to know that.
"I could fix some eggs if you'd like," he said, after he had set a steaming mug in front of Sirius.
Sirius just shook his head.
"Well, you should eat something." He rummaged around in the cupboards. "Toast? You've had a rough-"
"You're acting like my mum," Sirius said, and their eyes met and the ridiculousness of the statement set off an unexpected burst of laughter between them. "Well, not like my mum," he conceded, "unless you've plans to poison me."
"Not at the moment, no," Remus said, his expression slipping back into place.
Sirius stood up and crossed the kitchen, placing a hand on Remus's shoulder. "I'll eat in a bit. Thanks for the tea, and for letting me stay."
"Of course." Remus tensed, his tea sloshing over the side of the mug. "I think I'll go out, pick up a few things," he said quickly, and then Sirius let go and he could breathe again. "Do you need anything?"
"Wouldn't say no to more Firewhiskey." Sirius pulled several Galleons from his pocket.
"I can-"
"Come on, Remus. It's not charity. I'm the one who finished off your only bottle."
"All right," Remus said, grateful when Sirius dropped the coins into his palm without touching him. "Well, then. Help yourself to the shower, and anything else. I might be late getting back, so . . ."
"Don't worry, Moony," Sirius said, taking his tea and disappearing down the hall. "I won't wait up."
*
*
*
But Remus wasn't taking any chances. It was half past two when he entered the flat again, everything silent and dark. Sirius was either asleep or gone, and Remus couldn't bring himself to check which it might be. He put the groceries away by wandlight and collapsed onto the couch, too exhausted to bother undressing or going to bed.
He awoke a little later to the sound of muffled cries and thrashing around.
So it was real; it hadn't been a dream.
"Sirius?" Remus said in little more than a whisper, standing outside the man's room. A loud crash, and then a cry so terrible Remus threw open the door and flicked on the light. Before his eyes had time to adjust, he felt his body slam against the wall and a hand close around his throat. Sirius's face was inches from his, his eyes filled with terror and suspicion.
Remus let his wand drop to the floor, making no move to escape. This is the way he'll always see you, he thought, staring back at Sirius. And no amount of magic can change it.
Sirius let go, backing across the room and crumpling to the floor against the bed.
"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his head into his hands.
"It's all right." Remus rubbed the skin at his throat, could feel the bruises forming there. He slid down against the doorframe, facing Sirius. "Nightmares?"
"Yeah." Sirius looked at the wall above Remus's head. "They're worse here than in Azkaban. Sometimes I think the Dementors let me escape just so they could follow me out."
"Why don't you just change into Padfoot?" Remus suggested, surprised at how irritated his voice sounded.
"Why would you say that?" Sirius asked, looking genuinely hurt.
"I just thought . . . " Remus wavered. "I thought things would be easier, less complicated that way."
"Less complicated for you, you mean," Sirius said, hurt turning to anger now.
Remus kept silent.
"Sorry," Sirius said, and Remus remembered how he would always do that, strike hard and then pull back, as if he were a child fearing punishment for having taken things too far. "It's just . . ." he said, his clearing his throat, ". . . I've spent quite enough time as a dog over the last several years, don't you think? It's time I get used to being a human being again. You can understand that, can't you?"
It's not the same as being a werewolf, Remus wanted to scream at him. You can go back and forth at will. You refuse to do this one thing that would make things easier for you, for both of us. You are a selfish bastard and you broke me and you are still breaking me.
But he was too tired for truth tonight. "Yes, Sirius. I understand."
*
*
*
They stayed out of each other's way after that, until they didn't.
"Another Order meeting I wasn't invited to?"
Remus stumbled inside, nearly losing his footing on the doorstep before flicking on the light and checking the clock. Just past midnight. He had meant to stay out later, to make sure Sirius had plenty of time to withdraw to his room and pass out drunk or fall asleep, but there were unfamiliar faces tonight in the pub he had been frequenting, and he didn't want to take any chances. Now, even the prospect of running across Death Eaters seemed less taxing than dealing with Sirius, who was sitting at the kitchen table again, a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand.
Remus locked the door behind him, taking a moment to compose himself. "You know you can't be seen. Dumbledore's working on a place we can meet safely." An answer that wasn't really an answer. He wondered if he should worry that evasions came so easily to him now, that his voice could sound so calm when telling a lie.
"I know," Sirius said, an edge in his voice. "I think he's found one."
"Oh." Remus felt his stomach drop. Maybe he wasn't such a good liar after all. "You've been in contact, then."
"Which is why I know you weren't at an Order meeting tonight."
In another lifetime, Remus might have tried to explain. But what was the point? Hadn't Sirius already convicted him as a liar and a traitor, all those years ago?
"It's late," he said. "I'm going to bed."
He wasn't halfway down the hall before Sirius grabbed his wrist and pinned him to the wall.
"Where were you?" Sirius's breath was hot on Remus's cheek, and his eyes held the same fury and suspicion Remus had seen a few nights ago, had seen countless times in his dreams, and something inside Remus exploded. He pushed against Sirius, surprised by his own strength, until he reversed their positions and he was the one pinning Sirius to the wall. "Maybe you should have asked me that thirteen years ago, instead of assuming I was meeting with Death Eaters and plotting the death of our best friends."
Sirius's eyes widened in shock, then understanding, then what Remus could only describe as a terrible, wrenching sadness. "I thought you forgave me. In the Shack. You said so." His body seemed to go limp, and Remus loosened his grasp, though he didn't let go.
"There were children present, Sirius. I was still trying to work out what happened. There wasn't time for hurt feelings and . . ."
"And what?"
"I don't know."
Sirius grabbed Remus by the collar."You have to forgive me," he said in a broken voice. "We're all we have left."
Even though the hallway was dimly lit, Remus could see the desperation in Sirius's eyes.
"Please," he said, his hold tightening on Remus's shirt.
Maybe it was the urgency in Sirius's voice, or the three drinks Remus had before leaving the pub, or the smell of liquor and sweat on Sirius's skin, or all those years of wanting but not having what was in front of him right now.
All Remus knew was that if he didn't do something, he would come right out of his skin.
He crushed his lips against Sirius's, tasting Firewhiskey and darkness and need until Sirius pulled back, staring at him with those intense grey eyes that weren't angry anymore, or sad, but something else Remus couldn't quite name.
"Oh, God, Moony," he whispered, running a hand through Remus's hair and cupping his cheek. "I didn't know. Why the fuck didn't you say anything?" And then Sirius was kissing him, thrusting his tongue against Remus's and pressing their chests together, hearts beating wildly against each other.
And it wasn't enough, not nearly enough, so Remus yanked Sirius's shirt open, buttons clattering to the floor, and Sirius pulled Remus's jumper over his head, trailing hot kisses down his neck and taking a nipple between his teeth.
"Wait," Remus said, the pain and pleasure too much to bear.
"We've spent too much time waiting, Moony, don't you think?" Sirius whispered, kissing him roughly and pressing their bodies together again. Remus could feel Sirius's erection against his thigh, and the thought of Sirius hard for him nearly undid him.
"Your room," Remus said, grabbing Sirius by the wrist and leading him through the door, kicking it shut behind them, though they were alone. Remus pushed him onto the bed, grinding their hips together.
"Fuck, Moony," Sirius rasped, his stubble rubbing against Remus's neck.
Remus somehow unbuckled his belt and Sirius's at the same time.
"Yes," he said, shoving a hand down Sirius's pants. And fuck everyone and everything, he thought, fuck Voldemort and Dumbledore, the past and the future, everything but what is in this room right now.
His hand was on Sirius's cock, and then Sirius's fingers were wrapped around his, and-oh!-there was never anything so raw and aching and beautiful, even though Remus was self-conscious and Sirius had grown too thin and they weren't teenagers or even young men anymore.
It wasn't at all like he imagined. Not better, or worse, just more.
They both came quickly and, too tired to talk, fell into a dreamless sleep, their bodies tangled together in Sirius's sheets.
*
*
*
Remus awoke to the smell of Sirius, and warmth against his skin.
"Should we talk about this?"
He opened his eyes. Sirius had a pillow propped against his head, one arm draped around Remus and the other flipping through the photo album Remus had almost forgotten.
"I don't know."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Maybe if we each just say one thing," Sirius offered.
"Okay." Remus took a deep breath. "I wish you had trusted me."
"I wish you hadn't done this," Sirius said, staring at the page as if still trying to find himself somewhere. He sighed. "I wish we could fix things."
Remus forced himself to ask something he wasn't sure he wanted answered. "Is it too late?"
"Maybe. Maybe not," Sirius shrugged, tracing his fingers around a profile.
"I tried every spell I could think of. But . . . maybe I overlooked something. Dumbledore always said love was more powerful than magic."
Sirius rolled his eyes, so Remus changed the subject, afraid of saying too much. "This place Dumbledore found. Is it anywhere I know?"
Sirius let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, you might have been there once or twice. But I'd say I know it quite well."
Remus couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. "Grimmauld Place. Oh, Sirius."
Sirius shook his head, staring out the window. "I can't believe I have to go back there."
"I'll go with you."
"You don't have to."
"Don't be ridiculous. And we'll take this, too," Remus said, pulling the photo album into his lap but shutting it for now. "There will be plenty of time to figure things out."
"You think so?"
Remus couldn't tell whether it was doubt or hope that lay beneath Sirius's words.
"I do," he answered, drawing Sirius closer as the sun streamed through the window, bathing them in light.
Author: pavlablack
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, language, sexual content
Word Count: 3230
Summary: A year after finding out Sirius is innocent, Remus awakens to a knock at the door. A Lie Low at Lupin's Fic
Author's Notes: The first time Remus and Sirius see each other after the Shrieking Shack incident in POA.
Remus was dreaming as the wolf again, and he smelled fear. He crouched low in the forest, listening. The rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig, and then he was running and leaping and striking, tearing into soft flesh, blood dripping down his muzzle and coursing down his throat, his heart pounding thump-thump-thump in his ears.
Thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump.
He jerked awake, feeling not cool moss beneath him but twisted, sweaty sheets. His body felt foreign, still at odds with its human form, and he leapt off the mattress in one movement, howling in pain when his hands and knees landed hard on the floor.
Thump-thump-thump.
A knock at the door.
He righted himself slowly, flexing his joints and cursing as he pulled on trousers and a jumper. He always made it a practice to answer the door in Muggle clothes, not that he had many visitors in any form, and certainly not in the middle of the night. But if experience had taught him anything, it was that one couldn't be too careful. He stashed his wand behind his back, made his way down the narrow hallway, and cracked open the front door.
Sirius Black was standing on his doorstep, looking as disheveled and distressed as the last time Remus had seen him, nearly a year ago. Remus wasn't sure if his heart was beating so fast from the remnants of his dream or because he was suddenly transported back to that last night in the Shrieking Shack, torn between shock and euphoria at seeing the man again.
"Remus," Sirius croaked. "Can I come in?"
Perhaps a bit of the wolf still lingered in Remus's skin, for he felt his hackles rise. "What on earth are you doing here at this hour, after all this time? And why didn't you send a Patronus first?"
"Couldn't conjure one," Sirius said, running his hand through his hair and fixing his face somewhere between a grimace and a grin. For a moment Remus saw a glimpse of the vulnerable, guarded boy he fell in love with all those years ago.
So he did what he always did-he let Sirius in.
*
*
*
"Did you get in touch with Mundungus?" Remus asked, hanging his jacket by the door. It felt strange to address anything but the emptiness he'd grown accustomed to, but there Sirius was, sitting at the kitchen table as if he'd never left. Morning sun poured through the window and sliced him in two, half shadow, half light.
Remus's eyes wandered down to the focus of Sirius's attention, and saw long, bony fingers tracing patterns over a black leather book. He felt his stomach muscles constrict; he had forgotten about the photo album. "Sirius?" He walked over and touched the man's shoulder before thinking about it.
"Yeah," Sirius nodded, pulling away as if burned. "Flooed him an hour ago. What about Arabella?"
"She's in," Remus said, turning away. He grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses from the cupboard, then set them down on the table. It didn't matter that it was morning; it felt like the end of a long, hard night. "Has been, really, since the beginning."
"Well, I suppose that's about all we can do for now," Sirius said, not meeting Remus's eyes. "All I can do anyway. Dumbledore told me to lie low here. Guess I'm too much of a risk out and about."
"Of course," Remus said tightly.
"I went back to my old room while you were gone, thought I'd go through some things."
"I thought you might." Remus loosened the cap of the bottle, fighting a desire to turn it up and drink the entire thing.
"And I found this," Sirius said, pushing the photo album across the table toward Remus.
"Sirius-"
"Most of the pictures are ruined," Sirius said. "I guess you didn't know when you magicked me out that it would have that effect. Sort of like tampering with a memory-it muddies things up. They're all blurry now."
Remus poured himself a large glass and pushed the bottle over to Sirius. "I tried to fix it. But there was just too much damage."
"It's okay," Sirius shrugged, pouring himself a drink and knocking his glass against Remus's, a mockery of a toast. "Suppose I would have done the same thing."
You did, Remus thought bitterly, downing his whiskey. You did and I still hate you for it.
"All magic leaves traces, you know," Sirius continued, twirling the liquid in his glass and staring into it. "I could feel it in my room too-everything looks the same as it did before I left. But it's not. Is it?" Sirius voice shook, and part of Remus wanted to reach across the table and touch a finger to his cheek; part of him wanted to say, good, I'm glad it hurts, you deserve it after what you did to me, to all of us.
But he didn't do either of those things. He stood up and set his glass in the sink. "No, it's not."
*
*
*
"What I don't understand," Sirius said in a rough voice, "is why Peter is still there."
Remus nearly lost his grip on the kettle, sloshing water all over the counter. When he had entered the kitchen a moment ago, Sirius's head was resting atop his forearm on the table, one hand laid flat against the photo album, the other curled loosely around the empty bottle.
"Still where?" Remus asked warily, turning on the stove and setting the kettle in place. He wiped the counter down, then searched for the strongest tea he could find, taking a perverse sort of pleasure in slamming the cupboard doors and setting two mugs hard on the counter. Damn Sirius for finishing the Firewhiskey, for not just letting things be.
"Here," Sirius said, and Remus turned to see him jamming his fingers against a photograph. "He's distorted, they all are, but he's still here. I can understand you erasing me when you thought I betrayed James and Lily-"
Not just James and Lily.
"-but when you found out it was Peter, why didn't you erase him too?"
Because I wasn't in love with Peter. Because I just didn't have the energy for it. Remus sighed. "Everything was already ruined. I didn't see the point."
"Then why keep it at all?" Sirius's bloodshot eyes burned into Remus's.
"I don't know." He had asked himself the same question the night James and Lily were killed, the night he lost everything that mattered. After rushing off to see Dumbledore and being told there was nothing he could do, he got drunk at a Muggle pub and stumbled back to the flat, intending to tear Sirius's room apart. But instead, he fell onto Sirius's rumpled bed, clutching a pillow against his chest, the smell of Sirius assaulting his nose. He thought, Now I will never know what it's like to fall asleep in this bed and wake up with him lying next to me. He thought, If I'd just told him, maybe things would be different. He cried until he had no tears left, feeling pathetic and wasted, and the next morning he took one last look at Sirius's room before casting a permanent locking charm on the door.
It had taken him hours to undo it last year, outed from Hogwarts and exhausted from finding Sirius and Peter, from transforming without the Wolfsbane, from finding out Sirius was gone, again. He had thought he would air the room out, get it ready in case Sirius ever did return. But instead he found himself taking his wand to the space, trying to erase Sirius from his life, even knowing as he did so that was impossible.
But Sirius didn't need to know that.
"I could fix some eggs if you'd like," he said, after he had set a steaming mug in front of Sirius.
Sirius just shook his head.
"Well, you should eat something." He rummaged around in the cupboards. "Toast? You've had a rough-"
"You're acting like my mum," Sirius said, and their eyes met and the ridiculousness of the statement set off an unexpected burst of laughter between them. "Well, not like my mum," he conceded, "unless you've plans to poison me."
"Not at the moment, no," Remus said, his expression slipping back into place.
Sirius stood up and crossed the kitchen, placing a hand on Remus's shoulder. "I'll eat in a bit. Thanks for the tea, and for letting me stay."
"Of course." Remus tensed, his tea sloshing over the side of the mug. "I think I'll go out, pick up a few things," he said quickly, and then Sirius let go and he could breathe again. "Do you need anything?"
"Wouldn't say no to more Firewhiskey." Sirius pulled several Galleons from his pocket.
"I can-"
"Come on, Remus. It's not charity. I'm the one who finished off your only bottle."
"All right," Remus said, grateful when Sirius dropped the coins into his palm without touching him. "Well, then. Help yourself to the shower, and anything else. I might be late getting back, so . . ."
"Don't worry, Moony," Sirius said, taking his tea and disappearing down the hall. "I won't wait up."
*
*
*
But Remus wasn't taking any chances. It was half past two when he entered the flat again, everything silent and dark. Sirius was either asleep or gone, and Remus couldn't bring himself to check which it might be. He put the groceries away by wandlight and collapsed onto the couch, too exhausted to bother undressing or going to bed.
He awoke a little later to the sound of muffled cries and thrashing around.
So it was real; it hadn't been a dream.
"Sirius?" Remus said in little more than a whisper, standing outside the man's room. A loud crash, and then a cry so terrible Remus threw open the door and flicked on the light. Before his eyes had time to adjust, he felt his body slam against the wall and a hand close around his throat. Sirius's face was inches from his, his eyes filled with terror and suspicion.
Remus let his wand drop to the floor, making no move to escape. This is the way he'll always see you, he thought, staring back at Sirius. And no amount of magic can change it.
Sirius let go, backing across the room and crumpling to the floor against the bed.
"I'm sorry," he said, dropping his head into his hands.
"It's all right." Remus rubbed the skin at his throat, could feel the bruises forming there. He slid down against the doorframe, facing Sirius. "Nightmares?"
"Yeah." Sirius looked at the wall above Remus's head. "They're worse here than in Azkaban. Sometimes I think the Dementors let me escape just so they could follow me out."
"Why don't you just change into Padfoot?" Remus suggested, surprised at how irritated his voice sounded.
"Why would you say that?" Sirius asked, looking genuinely hurt.
"I just thought . . . " Remus wavered. "I thought things would be easier, less complicated that way."
"Less complicated for you, you mean," Sirius said, hurt turning to anger now.
Remus kept silent.
"Sorry," Sirius said, and Remus remembered how he would always do that, strike hard and then pull back, as if he were a child fearing punishment for having taken things too far. "It's just . . ." he said, his clearing his throat, ". . . I've spent quite enough time as a dog over the last several years, don't you think? It's time I get used to being a human being again. You can understand that, can't you?"
It's not the same as being a werewolf, Remus wanted to scream at him. You can go back and forth at will. You refuse to do this one thing that would make things easier for you, for both of us. You are a selfish bastard and you broke me and you are still breaking me.
But he was too tired for truth tonight. "Yes, Sirius. I understand."
*
*
*
They stayed out of each other's way after that, until they didn't.
"Another Order meeting I wasn't invited to?"
Remus stumbled inside, nearly losing his footing on the doorstep before flicking on the light and checking the clock. Just past midnight. He had meant to stay out later, to make sure Sirius had plenty of time to withdraw to his room and pass out drunk or fall asleep, but there were unfamiliar faces tonight in the pub he had been frequenting, and he didn't want to take any chances. Now, even the prospect of running across Death Eaters seemed less taxing than dealing with Sirius, who was sitting at the kitchen table again, a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand.
Remus locked the door behind him, taking a moment to compose himself. "You know you can't be seen. Dumbledore's working on a place we can meet safely." An answer that wasn't really an answer. He wondered if he should worry that evasions came so easily to him now, that his voice could sound so calm when telling a lie.
"I know," Sirius said, an edge in his voice. "I think he's found one."
"Oh." Remus felt his stomach drop. Maybe he wasn't such a good liar after all. "You've been in contact, then."
"Which is why I know you weren't at an Order meeting tonight."
In another lifetime, Remus might have tried to explain. But what was the point? Hadn't Sirius already convicted him as a liar and a traitor, all those years ago?
"It's late," he said. "I'm going to bed."
He wasn't halfway down the hall before Sirius grabbed his wrist and pinned him to the wall.
"Where were you?" Sirius's breath was hot on Remus's cheek, and his eyes held the same fury and suspicion Remus had seen a few nights ago, had seen countless times in his dreams, and something inside Remus exploded. He pushed against Sirius, surprised by his own strength, until he reversed their positions and he was the one pinning Sirius to the wall. "Maybe you should have asked me that thirteen years ago, instead of assuming I was meeting with Death Eaters and plotting the death of our best friends."
Sirius's eyes widened in shock, then understanding, then what Remus could only describe as a terrible, wrenching sadness. "I thought you forgave me. In the Shack. You said so." His body seemed to go limp, and Remus loosened his grasp, though he didn't let go.
"There were children present, Sirius. I was still trying to work out what happened. There wasn't time for hurt feelings and . . ."
"And what?"
"I don't know."
Sirius grabbed Remus by the collar."You have to forgive me," he said in a broken voice. "We're all we have left."
Even though the hallway was dimly lit, Remus could see the desperation in Sirius's eyes.
"Please," he said, his hold tightening on Remus's shirt.
Maybe it was the urgency in Sirius's voice, or the three drinks Remus had before leaving the pub, or the smell of liquor and sweat on Sirius's skin, or all those years of wanting but not having what was in front of him right now.
All Remus knew was that if he didn't do something, he would come right out of his skin.
He crushed his lips against Sirius's, tasting Firewhiskey and darkness and need until Sirius pulled back, staring at him with those intense grey eyes that weren't angry anymore, or sad, but something else Remus couldn't quite name.
"Oh, God, Moony," he whispered, running a hand through Remus's hair and cupping his cheek. "I didn't know. Why the fuck didn't you say anything?" And then Sirius was kissing him, thrusting his tongue against Remus's and pressing their chests together, hearts beating wildly against each other.
And it wasn't enough, not nearly enough, so Remus yanked Sirius's shirt open, buttons clattering to the floor, and Sirius pulled Remus's jumper over his head, trailing hot kisses down his neck and taking a nipple between his teeth.
"Wait," Remus said, the pain and pleasure too much to bear.
"We've spent too much time waiting, Moony, don't you think?" Sirius whispered, kissing him roughly and pressing their bodies together again. Remus could feel Sirius's erection against his thigh, and the thought of Sirius hard for him nearly undid him.
"Your room," Remus said, grabbing Sirius by the wrist and leading him through the door, kicking it shut behind them, though they were alone. Remus pushed him onto the bed, grinding their hips together.
"Fuck, Moony," Sirius rasped, his stubble rubbing against Remus's neck.
Remus somehow unbuckled his belt and Sirius's at the same time.
"Yes," he said, shoving a hand down Sirius's pants. And fuck everyone and everything, he thought, fuck Voldemort and Dumbledore, the past and the future, everything but what is in this room right now.
His hand was on Sirius's cock, and then Sirius's fingers were wrapped around his, and-oh!-there was never anything so raw and aching and beautiful, even though Remus was self-conscious and Sirius had grown too thin and they weren't teenagers or even young men anymore.
It wasn't at all like he imagined. Not better, or worse, just more.
They both came quickly and, too tired to talk, fell into a dreamless sleep, their bodies tangled together in Sirius's sheets.
*
*
*
Remus awoke to the smell of Sirius, and warmth against his skin.
"Should we talk about this?"
He opened his eyes. Sirius had a pillow propped against his head, one arm draped around Remus and the other flipping through the photo album Remus had almost forgotten.
"I don't know."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Maybe if we each just say one thing," Sirius offered.
"Okay." Remus took a deep breath. "I wish you had trusted me."
"I wish you hadn't done this," Sirius said, staring at the page as if still trying to find himself somewhere. He sighed. "I wish we could fix things."
Remus forced himself to ask something he wasn't sure he wanted answered. "Is it too late?"
"Maybe. Maybe not," Sirius shrugged, tracing his fingers around a profile.
"I tried every spell I could think of. But . . . maybe I overlooked something. Dumbledore always said love was more powerful than magic."
Sirius rolled his eyes, so Remus changed the subject, afraid of saying too much. "This place Dumbledore found. Is it anywhere I know?"
Sirius let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, you might have been there once or twice. But I'd say I know it quite well."
Remus couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. "Grimmauld Place. Oh, Sirius."
Sirius shook his head, staring out the window. "I can't believe I have to go back there."
"I'll go with you."
"You don't have to."
"Don't be ridiculous. And we'll take this, too," Remus said, pulling the photo album into his lap but shutting it for now. "There will be plenty of time to figure things out."
"You think so?"
Remus couldn't tell whether it was doubt or hope that lay beneath Sirius's words.
"I do," he answered, drawing Sirius closer as the sun streamed through the window, bathing them in light.