Fic: 'In from the Cold' for cacklesthewitch
Title: In from the Cold
Author: taigne
Recipient:cacklesthewitch
Rating: R
Highlight for Warnings: * sexual situations, some bad language *
Word Count: 4,360
Summary: (AU) Voldemort has been defeated, and Sirius and the Potters have come out of hiding. It might even be a happy ending, if one side of Sirius’ bed wasn’t so cold.
Author’s notes: I concentrated on the prompt 'coming in from the cold', but there are references to 'Slip into Your Skin' if you squint. I listened to it a lot writing this, anyway :) Huge thanks to midnitemaraud_r who did a huge amount of beta work on this so quickly! Any remaining stuff-ups are all my fault.
In from the Cold
Sirius shivered in his borrowed robes. His own had been destroyed in a Death-Eater raid on one of the many decoy houses he had set up before going into hiding. Now his Muggle clothes were the only ones of his own he had left, and they did not seem suitable for this momentous event. He stamped his feet to try and get warm as he watched Dumbledore’s fittingly eccentric address to the media gathered outside the Ministry of Magic. There he was, the man who had saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort's evil.
Sirius had not been privy to much of the complicated planning and plotting that had gone into the Order's final assault. As the Potter's Secret Keeper, he'd spent most of the last year in hiding, a very long time to be left to ponder his own thoughts and actions. They owed everything to their former headmaster. Sirius felt a lump in his throat as he listened to the tales of bravery and sacrifice that had unfolded in their absence, an arm around James' shoulders while his friend smiled at Lily and a fussing one-year-old Harry.
After Dumbledore finished speaking, they escaped as quickly as they could. For the last few weeks Sirius had been trying to avoid the annoyingly persistent Rita Skeeter, a young reporter for the Prophet who had managed to discover his London address. Skeeter seemed to think that landing an exclusive scoop with the formerly scandalous and now reclusive Sirius Black would make her career, and Sirius was constantly forced to restrain himself in her presence. While he was sorely tempted, he managed to restrain himself from doing anything illegal, though a stray Confundus Charm, or Leg-Locker curse did manage to find its target on occasion. He had had plenty of practice in the art of subtle mischief at school. That she hadn't had to sue him was a sign of his amazing new-found maturity, Sirius thought.
Thoughts of school and the Marauders repertoire of pranks reminded him of Peter's desertion and the outstanding question of Remus' whereabouts, and Sirius’ chest tightened noticeably with a pang of anger, trepidation, and regret. He walked a convoluted route back to his flat, deep in Muggle Didcot, healthy paranoia still instinctively guiding his actions. By the time he reached his front door, he was warm from the exertion and took solitary sanctuary behind lock and ward.
***
The smoke from his cigarette curled around Sirius' head, emphasised by his breath freezing in the winter air. His 'dirty Muggle habit' had him standing just beyond the Potter's garden fence; Lily didn't want him smoking anywhere near Harry now that the boy was old enough to mimic grown-up actions. Clad in his Muggle jeans and an overcoat, Sirius felt slightly out of place in the middle of the rather traditional Godric's Hollow, and was glad to be able to cast a Warming Charm on his trembling fingers without attracting unwanted attention.
Leaving the Wizarding world for the year he'd spent in hiding had given Sirius a strange sense of calm, one that he had never felt before, even when he had left his parents and tasted freedom for the first time.
He now found himself able to take great pleasure from the simplest of things, like the taste of hand-made pies from the local baker's shop, so far from the delicate confectionary produced by the thoroughly whipped house-elves at Grimmauld Place. He loved the cough and splutter of the old, paint-chipped bus that he took to work every morning, and the Christmas jingles advertising Woolworths' sales and exclaiming 'that's Asda price' on the colour television, his favourite Muggle possession.
He had lived alone for over a year now, and still spent more time around Muggles than normal folk. It was almost strange, the magic permeating the air when he visited the Potters each Saturday. Even though Sirius used magic at home for household menial tasks and Warming Charms-Muggles spent so much money on heating, he didn't know how they managed on the minimum wage he was drawing in-it was not a big part of his everyday life any more. It was refreshing, in a way, that he could look at animated toys and magical time-pieces these days with the same wonder little Harry did.
Rubbing his hands together, he stamped out his cigarette and turned back to the house, feeling the tingle of the person-specific wards Lily still kept around the perimeter. James and Lily spoiled Harry shamelessly now that they once again had access to all the modern Wizarding comforts and frivolities, and Sirius loved exploring them with Harry.
"You're actually regressing, aren't you, Padfoot," James commented as he watched Sirius 'ooh' and 'aah' over Harry's new theatre set, where tiny wizards fought dragons and trolls on the painted stage. "I mean, you were never all that mature to start with, but to empathise with a 16-month-old…it's a sad thing to see."
"You can talk, James Potter," Lily commented from desk, where she was busy writing lists of things for James to do while she was at work. "I've seen you with Harry's Christmas presents. You're every bit as mature as Sirius."
"Hah! Thanks, Mrs Prongs." Sirius grinned, sticking his tongue out at his best friend. Noticing the time, he sighed. "Best be off, though."
Giving Harry a kiss on the forehead, he ruffled his hair.
"See you, midget Prongs."
Harry wiggled out of the way and waved up at Sirius, babbling "byebyebyebyebye," his latest favourite word. Sirius waved back and went to the hallway, pulling on his boots and over-coat from the cloak-stand. Lily followed him and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching him with a question in her eyes.
"Three months is too long. We waited the year in hiding because there was no choice. You need to talk some sense into him."
Sirius glanced up at her, and then busied himself with his gloves and scarf. "I'm going tomorrow. I've got Monday off because I'm working someone's shift for Christmas Eve. I'm going tomorrow and I'm bringing him home. He's stubborn, and you know how well he does guilt…"
He and Remus had parted a year ago suspecting each other of treachery and deceit. They had both been wrong, but having finally tracked the werewolf down, Sirius had made little headway at actually talking about things like grown-ups. For the first time in his life he had actually hesitated, afraid that Remus wouldn't listen. Mostly he was afraid that even if he did listen, Remus still wouldn't forgive him.
"But you're a Black. King of stubbornness and getting your way. The only good traits of your otherwise despicable family."
"Tell him we want Harry's new favourite word to be 'moo-moo', and he better have someone to practise it on this Christmas!" James called out from the living room.
Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Now how can he resist that sort of incentive?" He let himself out into the chill winds chasing around Godric's Hollow and Apparated back to his flat, thoughts of how to approach an obstinate werewolf chasing around his head.
***
The streetlight outside Remus' sixties concrete monstrosity of a flat was flickering as if the bulb was giving out. Sirius had walked the streets around the estate for nearly an hour as dusk turned to night and the lights came on, leaving orange pools at regular intervals along the pavement. The street was surprisingly busy for the weather, alternating between light rain and spatters of hail, with ill-timed gusts of wind whipping the bare-branched trees and overgrown bushes into the paths of pedestrians. Teenagers hunched together at the bus stop wearing too little against the cold: puff-jackets and ratty tank-tops. Sirius was glad he was finally grown-up enough to wear his plastic mac as he huddled in the narrow porch, and steeled himself to push the yellowed button of Remus' flat.
Remus' voice crackled over the intercom, and Sirius' heart jumped into his throat. He tried to swallow but his voice still sounded thick when he spoke.
"It's Sirius, can we talk?"
There was no verbal response, but the buzzer buzzed, and the front door latch clicked. Sirius pushed it open, stepping into the barely warm stairwell, and tried not to run up the stairs.
They were nothing like the stairs of Hogwarts, and Remus' landing smelled nothing like the halls of their old school, but Sirius found himself remembering another evening, years ago, when he had tried not to run towards Remus' door.
***
Robes were a great invention, Sirius thought for the millionth time, wrapping his firmly around him against the chill of Hogwarts' midnight halls. Checking one last time that no-one had followed him, he darted through the last door into the dark classroom, anticipation at once choking and invigorating him. They'd chosen this room for its remoteness-at the end of the Arithmancy corridor-to plan exactly how to get into the Herbology storeroom for the bouncing bulbs that were central in their latest scheme. At least that was what he'd told James and Peter they were doing.
Remus had lit a dark fire in the little hearth in the corner, and Sirius took a second to admire his friend's spell-work before throwing himself into a chair at a desk next to him. Remus had a long roll of parchment laid out in front of him, along with a pair of unstoppered glass vials. Rather than writing though, Remus was staring at nothing, quill poised in mid-air. He wore an oddly blank expression on his face, considering the real reason for their meeting.
"Moony?" Sirius whispered. "You alright?"
Remus turned, gazing almost through Sirius before abruptly focusing. "I was so nervous, I took a little Calming Draught, and it helped, but then, then I was worried I was too calm, for, you know, so I took some Elixir of Euphoria, and that seems to have helped, and made my breath all minty, which is good, and I was so scared that I'd made this all up in my head Padfoot, and that you wouldn't come, but here you are and…"
Sirius put a finger over Remus' lips to stop his babbling.
"I'm here. Of course I came. I've thought of nothing else all day, and bloody distracting it was, trying to get through that lecture on Hippogriff mating rituals. James nearly pissed himself. Now, stop worrying and come here."
He moved in close and kissed steadily up Remus' neck, along his jaw toward his mouth. Remus' quill was quickly abandoned, left to pool ink on the parchment as Remus turned sideways, hooking a long leg over and straddling Sirius' lap, claiming his mouth with firm lips and greedy tongue.
Sirius grabbed Remus' bony backside and pulled him in close, rubbing against him, the friction of their robes increasing as Remus moved slowly against him. He cupped Sirius' face with both hands, fingers splayed in his hair, clenching them in time with the thrust of his hips. Teenage boys were not made for languorous love-making, and Sirius would have been highly embarrassed at how quickly he lost control had Remus not been right behind him.
Remus thrust forward against Sirius, ignoring the sudden scrape of wood on stone. They teetered on the chair, balancing precariously on two legs, and lost their coordination entirely in the next moment. Remus pulled away, attempting to correct their tilt, but he overcompensated and with a ringing clatter, followed by a dull thud, they tipped over sideways. Sirius bit his lip, trying to muffle his cry of alarm, not difficult with Remus effectively squashing him. .
They panted together in confused fulfilment for a minute. Sirius didn't have time to be mortified as Remus mumbled, "ow", shifting his knees slightly and chuckling, face pressed to Sirius' neck.
"Want you," Sirius demanded, ignoring the dull pain of his head where he'd struck the floor, and rolling slightly onto his side. He slid a hand up beneath Remus' conveniently rucked-up robes, and took his turn to kiss Remus thoroughly, tongue darting across sharp, minty teeth and battling with Remus' equally eager tongue. They were both eager to pick up where they'd left off but footsteps sounded in the corridor just outside the classroom, bringing all movement to a stop. They didn't need to speak as they scrambled apart, silently working to right the room and look as innocent as possible when caught out after curfew.
Headmaster Dumbledore opened the door and cast a dim Lumos into the room, silhouetting his tall, lean figure in the doorway. He regarded them both silently for a long moment, during which neither boy dared breathe, their faces flushed red, lips wet, hair and robes mussed.
"It is well past lights out, as you boys both know. A prefect in particular is aware of such things."
Remus flushed even redder and bowed his head. "Sorry, Professor."
"Uh, sorry, Professor," Sirius echoed, trying not to make it sound like mindless repetition, but failing to come up with anything else to say. In that moment, so many other thoughts were clamouring for his attention he barely knew what he was thinking, let alone saying out loud.
The Headmaster frowned, looking dryly at them over his half-moon spectacles, and shook his head. "Ten points each then. Quickly and quietly to your beds, boys. Your room-mates, I trust, will be asleep by now." And with that, Dumbledore swept away back down the corridor.
Sirius was not quite sure what to think, unsure whether they had even been told off. He supposed that merely being caught out after curfew was better than being caught in possession of banned or stolen substances, or caught with his robes up, especially considering how close they had come to the latter. Remus blinked, staring after Dumbledore, and reached out to take Sirius' hand as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower.
Sirius' blood thrummed, sounding far too loud in his ears, and his palm was slick with sweat where Remus held it. He walked silently, preoccupied, worrying what it said about his pride that such a simple touch could elicit such an intense reaction in him. Robes, he thought, turning his mind to a less confusing subject, concealed a multitude of sins. Yes, robes truly were a great invention.
***
Now at the door to Remus' flat, Sirius knocked with a fist he tried to convince himself wasn't shaking.
Remus opened the door and stared at him, looking like he was about to say any number of important things. He didn't. Instead, he waved Sirius inside, mumbling "have a seat" and "coffee, Gold Blend?" and bustling about behind a kitchenette that was little more than a short island and fridge in his tiny living room.
Sirius thanked him for the coffee, making some inane comment about how much he liked the Nescafe man on the telly, and then shut himself up when he realised just how daft he sounded. He looked at Remus over the rim of the chipped mug and waited. Remus was thin and worn, but the hunted look that had lined his features when they had parted company in the war was gone.
"I don't know where to start," Remus told him finally. "I've imagined this so many ways. I wanted to shout at you for even thinking I'd work for...them. But then I'd thought, just for a second, that it could be you, so…." He shrugged, staring hard at the arm of his chair. "And now, I haven't seen you for a year. I've got a job, you know-it's a bit crap, but it pays the bills-and I don't have to worry about Ministry background checks because the Muggles don't believe in werewolves. They think we’re myth, some romantic notion out of their literature. And I can't go back because what do I have to go back to? Fear and distrust? But …I missed you, so much, and I'm sorry about Peter, and…"
Sirius reached out instinctively and silenced him with a finger on the lips, because it was his Remus, and that's what he always did when Remus babbled.
Sirius drew back quickly, knowing his eyes were as wide as Remus', and he didn't have that right anymore. He set his mug down on the rickety coffee table, pressing shaking hands flat on his lap.
"Sorry," he said, ducking his head and looking away. "For that, and for what I said back before you left. I was an idiot. I was just so worried for James and Harry and Lils, and I let it override my common sense. I was so bloody stupid." He risked a glance back at Remus, who was watching the wall above Sirius’ head, lips pressed thinly together. Drawing in a shaking breath, Sirius continued.
"I was going to swap with Peter, because if James used Fidelius everyone, especially you, would know that it was me. Thought that was a brilliant plan-the perfect decoy." He shifted to the edge of his seat, willing Remus to look at him, needing Remus to understand this part if nothing else.
"But I went to Dumbledore for an Order meeting-just after you left-and the interfering old coot gave me such a lecture about not letting go of what was important, because that's how Voldemort would win, and it's like he knew, knew exactly what was going on in my head! I swear he's some kind of master Legilimens. I was going to track you down, to try and sort it all out, but you hid so well, Moony, and then I just ran out of time. We had to perform the Fidelius, and it was too late." He sighed, then took a sharp breath in when Remus finally met his eyes.
"Well, you've tracked me down now," Remus said.
"Yes."
Remus’ gaze faltered and he cradled his head in his hands.
"I miss you so much." The admission was so quiet that Sirius barely heard it, but his heart soared, warm hope flooding his veins.
"Come home then, Remus. I...just come home and we can work this out, yeah?"
It was Remus’ turn to sigh. He shifted in his seat. Sirius thought for a hopeful second that Remus would come and join him on the tatty sofa but he settled again, asked. "Where is home? I tried all the old places. They're mostly burned or boarded up. I was so scared until I heard the news that we won. I saw James and Lily were in the paper. You, too well someone’s opinions on you anyway. Those articles by that Skeeter woman. Bit of a cow, isn't she?"
"You were looking for me?" Sirius smiled.
"Yes, of course, I...yes," Remus frowned in frustration. "Damn it, Sirius, only you, in the whole world can make me sound like such an incoherent imbecile!"
"It's one of my many talents. I'm sure I can remind you of the rest," Sirius quipped. Then he sobered. "Tell me you'll come home with me Moony. No offence, but this place is a bit shit, and I really think that I can make you happy. I do. And you can still keep that job, Apparate or something? If you want to, that is. I had a lot of time to think, last year, and work out what was important. Merlin! I missed you too."
"Thank you," Remus smiled at him fondly and Sirius was relieved. He grinned back, and Remus continued. "But not tonight. It's late. Are you hungry? I can make something. You can stay, if you like. Take the bed. The couch is actually better to sleep on than sit on."
There were so many things Sirius wanted to say to that, but none of them would help right now. He nodded. "Thanks, Moony, that'd be good."
***
"Oh, sweet Merlin, it's cold out there!" Sirius stamped his feet vigorously to shake the clinging snow off his boots. Remus followed suit, blowing on cold fingers before following Sirius out of the tiny entranceway.
Remus looked around, a slightly bewildered expression on his face. The flat was not especially messy, Sirius had made an effort to clean. Boyish slovenliness had lost its appeal somewhat after an incident with neon orange mould. However, there was nothing to be done with the clutter; putting things away would require having somewhere for him to put them. He really needed some shelves, Sirius thought inanely, and perhaps another wardrobe, particularly if Remus was to have a place for his things.
"It's…it's so small and …Muggle," Remus exclaimed, quietly. Sirius raised his eyebrows. He was about to respond in an aggrieved fashion, but Remus hurried to qualify his assessment.
"I mean, for you. In comparison to what I'd expected. Something large and, um, yeah…sorry." Remus trailed off and turned his lost expression to the floor, playing with the hem of his coat.
Sirius opened his mouth to respond and closed it. Remus actually thought he had insulted him. He realised that he was not going to turn this into an argument, he didn’t feel the need to fly off the handle at an innocent implication of his upbringing. He also realised that that was part of what had Remus so turned around. Sirius had changed.
He shrugged. "Yeah, well I'm not sorry for that. And you don't have to be, you daft sod. It's like…" He gestured randomly in the air, looking for an appropriate simile. "It's like coming out of hiding let me leave all that stuff behind, like Harry did for James. Made me appreciate things more, I guess. I don't know. I'm not good at this kind of talk. You know that."
"Do I?" Remus looked truly despondent. "I don't think I do. I've been away for so long, and I don't think I know this new..."
"Poleaxed!" Sirius blurted out, and Remus, shaken from his melancholy by the unexpected declaration, demonstrated the adjective once more, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"I've just remembered the word!" Sirius explained, hurriedly. "Sorry, you know when the right word's on the tip of your tongue. S'the expression you had on your face, Moony."
The edge of Remus' mouth began to curve upwards, his shoulders twitching. Sirius grinned broadly. "We're still us, Moony, I'm still me, just…grown-up. Ish."
Remus nodded. "Still calling me on my fretting unduly though."
"But now with added subtlety."
Remus raised a single eyebrow, the small smile on his face not hiding now. "I see. Thanks then."
"Not a problem." Sirius flung his arm around Remus' shoulders. "I was an idiot, and so were you, right back. I think we're even."
Remus nodded absently, staring out of the window at the steadily falling snow, a slight frown drawing his brows together. Sirius shivered as the draft from the poorly insulated window assailed him, disappointed by how quickly Remus’ smile had disappeared.
"Penny for them, as my Muggle co-workers are fond of saying."
Remus blinked and drew in a slow breath. "Just thinking. We could be out there in this."
"Er, we just were out there in this, Remus, hence my timely 'Merlin, it's cold'," Sirius was puzzled.
"If James, Lily and Harry were still in hiding, if you'd not come to find me, or if it had all gone wrong and Dumbledore couldn't stop Voldemort...." Remus pressed his lips together, and Sirius wondered what he'd stopped himself from adding on to that, though he thought he had a pretty good idea.
Sirius leaned in to give him a sideways squeeze. "You, my Moony, worry too much. It didn't, he did, everything's going to be all right now!"
Remus smiled ruefully. "This time of the year, I'm maudlin in the cold. You've met me."
"True. Anyway, there's nothing like nearly freezing to make me grateful to be home with your upbeat self."
Remus reached up and clasped his long cool fingers around Sirius' strong hand where he was absently caressing Remus' collarbone.
"You're still as skinny as ever Moony," Sirius tutted.
"Sorry, Mother."
"Nah, s'good! I like your knobbly bits, as you well know," Sirius purred. Almost immediately he realised what he'd said and groped for something to say to cover himself, but Remus rolled his eyes, squeezing Sirius' hand under his. Reaching his free hand behind his back, Remus stroked the rough denim of Sirius' jeans, feeling his way downwards when his questing fingers met the zip. Sirius' hips bucked automatically against Remus' rear.
"That I do know, Pads."
"My bed's not been christened," Sirius breathed, flinging restrained maturity out of the window as a hungry craving assailed his brain.
"Bed? Are we that old now we need a bed?"
"I'm just more appreciative of the little things now," Sirius nuzzled Remus' neck, where his grey-flecked hair curled at the nape, reaching out with his tongue to flick Remus' earring. Remus ground back against him with a soft moan.
"Any more of that and the floor will be as far as we get. Can't believe you waited," Remus breathed. Sirius growled and nipped the side of his ear.
"'Course I did!" he said indignantly. "Love you, don't I."
Remus grabbed Sirius' shoulders, spinning him so they were face-to-face, eyes full of desire.
"You waited until now to tell me? After we went through all that?" His voice was low and rough, and heat pooled in Sirius groin.
"Told you I'm no good at saying this stuff," Sirius bit back, his hands aching to touch, to feel all of Remus, right now.
"Good thing I love you too then, isn't it!" Remus sounded exasperated, but his actions belied his words as he grabbed Sirius around the waist and pulled them flush together.
Sirius felt relief and want course fervently though him as he half-dragged Remus to the bedroom, clumsily trying to undress him while keeping as much of them touching as possible. He ignored the draft coming from the shoddy windows, the snow building up in layers on the windowsill and freezing the outside world, in favour of the fiery, passionate world they were rebuilding within his four walls.
"Welcome home, Moony," he whispered.
Author: taigne
Recipient:cacklesthewitch
Rating: R
Highlight for Warnings: * sexual situations, some bad language *
Word Count: 4,360
Summary: (AU) Voldemort has been defeated, and Sirius and the Potters have come out of hiding. It might even be a happy ending, if one side of Sirius’ bed wasn’t so cold.
Author’s notes: I concentrated on the prompt 'coming in from the cold', but there are references to 'Slip into Your Skin' if you squint. I listened to it a lot writing this, anyway :) Huge thanks to midnitemaraud_r who did a huge amount of beta work on this so quickly! Any remaining stuff-ups are all my fault.
In from the Cold
Sirius shivered in his borrowed robes. His own had been destroyed in a Death-Eater raid on one of the many decoy houses he had set up before going into hiding. Now his Muggle clothes were the only ones of his own he had left, and they did not seem suitable for this momentous event. He stamped his feet to try and get warm as he watched Dumbledore’s fittingly eccentric address to the media gathered outside the Ministry of Magic. There he was, the man who had saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort's evil.
Sirius had not been privy to much of the complicated planning and plotting that had gone into the Order's final assault. As the Potter's Secret Keeper, he'd spent most of the last year in hiding, a very long time to be left to ponder his own thoughts and actions. They owed everything to their former headmaster. Sirius felt a lump in his throat as he listened to the tales of bravery and sacrifice that had unfolded in their absence, an arm around James' shoulders while his friend smiled at Lily and a fussing one-year-old Harry.
After Dumbledore finished speaking, they escaped as quickly as they could. For the last few weeks Sirius had been trying to avoid the annoyingly persistent Rita Skeeter, a young reporter for the Prophet who had managed to discover his London address. Skeeter seemed to think that landing an exclusive scoop with the formerly scandalous and now reclusive Sirius Black would make her career, and Sirius was constantly forced to restrain himself in her presence. While he was sorely tempted, he managed to restrain himself from doing anything illegal, though a stray Confundus Charm, or Leg-Locker curse did manage to find its target on occasion. He had had plenty of practice in the art of subtle mischief at school. That she hadn't had to sue him was a sign of his amazing new-found maturity, Sirius thought.
Thoughts of school and the Marauders repertoire of pranks reminded him of Peter's desertion and the outstanding question of Remus' whereabouts, and Sirius’ chest tightened noticeably with a pang of anger, trepidation, and regret. He walked a convoluted route back to his flat, deep in Muggle Didcot, healthy paranoia still instinctively guiding his actions. By the time he reached his front door, he was warm from the exertion and took solitary sanctuary behind lock and ward.
***
The smoke from his cigarette curled around Sirius' head, emphasised by his breath freezing in the winter air. His 'dirty Muggle habit' had him standing just beyond the Potter's garden fence; Lily didn't want him smoking anywhere near Harry now that the boy was old enough to mimic grown-up actions. Clad in his Muggle jeans and an overcoat, Sirius felt slightly out of place in the middle of the rather traditional Godric's Hollow, and was glad to be able to cast a Warming Charm on his trembling fingers without attracting unwanted attention.
Leaving the Wizarding world for the year he'd spent in hiding had given Sirius a strange sense of calm, one that he had never felt before, even when he had left his parents and tasted freedom for the first time.
He now found himself able to take great pleasure from the simplest of things, like the taste of hand-made pies from the local baker's shop, so far from the delicate confectionary produced by the thoroughly whipped house-elves at Grimmauld Place. He loved the cough and splutter of the old, paint-chipped bus that he took to work every morning, and the Christmas jingles advertising Woolworths' sales and exclaiming 'that's Asda price' on the colour television, his favourite Muggle possession.
He had lived alone for over a year now, and still spent more time around Muggles than normal folk. It was almost strange, the magic permeating the air when he visited the Potters each Saturday. Even though Sirius used magic at home for household menial tasks and Warming Charms-Muggles spent so much money on heating, he didn't know how they managed on the minimum wage he was drawing in-it was not a big part of his everyday life any more. It was refreshing, in a way, that he could look at animated toys and magical time-pieces these days with the same wonder little Harry did.
Rubbing his hands together, he stamped out his cigarette and turned back to the house, feeling the tingle of the person-specific wards Lily still kept around the perimeter. James and Lily spoiled Harry shamelessly now that they once again had access to all the modern Wizarding comforts and frivolities, and Sirius loved exploring them with Harry.
"You're actually regressing, aren't you, Padfoot," James commented as he watched Sirius 'ooh' and 'aah' over Harry's new theatre set, where tiny wizards fought dragons and trolls on the painted stage. "I mean, you were never all that mature to start with, but to empathise with a 16-month-old…it's a sad thing to see."
"You can talk, James Potter," Lily commented from desk, where she was busy writing lists of things for James to do while she was at work. "I've seen you with Harry's Christmas presents. You're every bit as mature as Sirius."
"Hah! Thanks, Mrs Prongs." Sirius grinned, sticking his tongue out at his best friend. Noticing the time, he sighed. "Best be off, though."
Giving Harry a kiss on the forehead, he ruffled his hair.
"See you, midget Prongs."
Harry wiggled out of the way and waved up at Sirius, babbling "byebyebyebyebye," his latest favourite word. Sirius waved back and went to the hallway, pulling on his boots and over-coat from the cloak-stand. Lily followed him and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching him with a question in her eyes.
"Three months is too long. We waited the year in hiding because there was no choice. You need to talk some sense into him."
Sirius glanced up at her, and then busied himself with his gloves and scarf. "I'm going tomorrow. I've got Monday off because I'm working someone's shift for Christmas Eve. I'm going tomorrow and I'm bringing him home. He's stubborn, and you know how well he does guilt…"
He and Remus had parted a year ago suspecting each other of treachery and deceit. They had both been wrong, but having finally tracked the werewolf down, Sirius had made little headway at actually talking about things like grown-ups. For the first time in his life he had actually hesitated, afraid that Remus wouldn't listen. Mostly he was afraid that even if he did listen, Remus still wouldn't forgive him.
"But you're a Black. King of stubbornness and getting your way. The only good traits of your otherwise despicable family."
"Tell him we want Harry's new favourite word to be 'moo-moo', and he better have someone to practise it on this Christmas!" James called out from the living room.
Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Now how can he resist that sort of incentive?" He let himself out into the chill winds chasing around Godric's Hollow and Apparated back to his flat, thoughts of how to approach an obstinate werewolf chasing around his head.
***
The streetlight outside Remus' sixties concrete monstrosity of a flat was flickering as if the bulb was giving out. Sirius had walked the streets around the estate for nearly an hour as dusk turned to night and the lights came on, leaving orange pools at regular intervals along the pavement. The street was surprisingly busy for the weather, alternating between light rain and spatters of hail, with ill-timed gusts of wind whipping the bare-branched trees and overgrown bushes into the paths of pedestrians. Teenagers hunched together at the bus stop wearing too little against the cold: puff-jackets and ratty tank-tops. Sirius was glad he was finally grown-up enough to wear his plastic mac as he huddled in the narrow porch, and steeled himself to push the yellowed button of Remus' flat.
Remus' voice crackled over the intercom, and Sirius' heart jumped into his throat. He tried to swallow but his voice still sounded thick when he spoke.
"It's Sirius, can we talk?"
There was no verbal response, but the buzzer buzzed, and the front door latch clicked. Sirius pushed it open, stepping into the barely warm stairwell, and tried not to run up the stairs.
They were nothing like the stairs of Hogwarts, and Remus' landing smelled nothing like the halls of their old school, but Sirius found himself remembering another evening, years ago, when he had tried not to run towards Remus' door.
***
Robes were a great invention, Sirius thought for the millionth time, wrapping his firmly around him against the chill of Hogwarts' midnight halls. Checking one last time that no-one had followed him, he darted through the last door into the dark classroom, anticipation at once choking and invigorating him. They'd chosen this room for its remoteness-at the end of the Arithmancy corridor-to plan exactly how to get into the Herbology storeroom for the bouncing bulbs that were central in their latest scheme. At least that was what he'd told James and Peter they were doing.
Remus had lit a dark fire in the little hearth in the corner, and Sirius took a second to admire his friend's spell-work before throwing himself into a chair at a desk next to him. Remus had a long roll of parchment laid out in front of him, along with a pair of unstoppered glass vials. Rather than writing though, Remus was staring at nothing, quill poised in mid-air. He wore an oddly blank expression on his face, considering the real reason for their meeting.
"Moony?" Sirius whispered. "You alright?"
Remus turned, gazing almost through Sirius before abruptly focusing. "I was so nervous, I took a little Calming Draught, and it helped, but then, then I was worried I was too calm, for, you know, so I took some Elixir of Euphoria, and that seems to have helped, and made my breath all minty, which is good, and I was so scared that I'd made this all up in my head Padfoot, and that you wouldn't come, but here you are and…"
Sirius put a finger over Remus' lips to stop his babbling.
"I'm here. Of course I came. I've thought of nothing else all day, and bloody distracting it was, trying to get through that lecture on Hippogriff mating rituals. James nearly pissed himself. Now, stop worrying and come here."
He moved in close and kissed steadily up Remus' neck, along his jaw toward his mouth. Remus' quill was quickly abandoned, left to pool ink on the parchment as Remus turned sideways, hooking a long leg over and straddling Sirius' lap, claiming his mouth with firm lips and greedy tongue.
Sirius grabbed Remus' bony backside and pulled him in close, rubbing against him, the friction of their robes increasing as Remus moved slowly against him. He cupped Sirius' face with both hands, fingers splayed in his hair, clenching them in time with the thrust of his hips. Teenage boys were not made for languorous love-making, and Sirius would have been highly embarrassed at how quickly he lost control had Remus not been right behind him.
Remus thrust forward against Sirius, ignoring the sudden scrape of wood on stone. They teetered on the chair, balancing precariously on two legs, and lost their coordination entirely in the next moment. Remus pulled away, attempting to correct their tilt, but he overcompensated and with a ringing clatter, followed by a dull thud, they tipped over sideways. Sirius bit his lip, trying to muffle his cry of alarm, not difficult with Remus effectively squashing him. .
They panted together in confused fulfilment for a minute. Sirius didn't have time to be mortified as Remus mumbled, "ow", shifting his knees slightly and chuckling, face pressed to Sirius' neck.
"Want you," Sirius demanded, ignoring the dull pain of his head where he'd struck the floor, and rolling slightly onto his side. He slid a hand up beneath Remus' conveniently rucked-up robes, and took his turn to kiss Remus thoroughly, tongue darting across sharp, minty teeth and battling with Remus' equally eager tongue. They were both eager to pick up where they'd left off but footsteps sounded in the corridor just outside the classroom, bringing all movement to a stop. They didn't need to speak as they scrambled apart, silently working to right the room and look as innocent as possible when caught out after curfew.
Headmaster Dumbledore opened the door and cast a dim Lumos into the room, silhouetting his tall, lean figure in the doorway. He regarded them both silently for a long moment, during which neither boy dared breathe, their faces flushed red, lips wet, hair and robes mussed.
"It is well past lights out, as you boys both know. A prefect in particular is aware of such things."
Remus flushed even redder and bowed his head. "Sorry, Professor."
"Uh, sorry, Professor," Sirius echoed, trying not to make it sound like mindless repetition, but failing to come up with anything else to say. In that moment, so many other thoughts were clamouring for his attention he barely knew what he was thinking, let alone saying out loud.
The Headmaster frowned, looking dryly at them over his half-moon spectacles, and shook his head. "Ten points each then. Quickly and quietly to your beds, boys. Your room-mates, I trust, will be asleep by now." And with that, Dumbledore swept away back down the corridor.
Sirius was not quite sure what to think, unsure whether they had even been told off. He supposed that merely being caught out after curfew was better than being caught in possession of banned or stolen substances, or caught with his robes up, especially considering how close they had come to the latter. Remus blinked, staring after Dumbledore, and reached out to take Sirius' hand as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower.
Sirius' blood thrummed, sounding far too loud in his ears, and his palm was slick with sweat where Remus held it. He walked silently, preoccupied, worrying what it said about his pride that such a simple touch could elicit such an intense reaction in him. Robes, he thought, turning his mind to a less confusing subject, concealed a multitude of sins. Yes, robes truly were a great invention.
***
Now at the door to Remus' flat, Sirius knocked with a fist he tried to convince himself wasn't shaking.
Remus opened the door and stared at him, looking like he was about to say any number of important things. He didn't. Instead, he waved Sirius inside, mumbling "have a seat" and "coffee, Gold Blend?" and bustling about behind a kitchenette that was little more than a short island and fridge in his tiny living room.
Sirius thanked him for the coffee, making some inane comment about how much he liked the Nescafe man on the telly, and then shut himself up when he realised just how daft he sounded. He looked at Remus over the rim of the chipped mug and waited. Remus was thin and worn, but the hunted look that had lined his features when they had parted company in the war was gone.
"I don't know where to start," Remus told him finally. "I've imagined this so many ways. I wanted to shout at you for even thinking I'd work for...them. But then I'd thought, just for a second, that it could be you, so…." He shrugged, staring hard at the arm of his chair. "And now, I haven't seen you for a year. I've got a job, you know-it's a bit crap, but it pays the bills-and I don't have to worry about Ministry background checks because the Muggles don't believe in werewolves. They think we’re myth, some romantic notion out of their literature. And I can't go back because what do I have to go back to? Fear and distrust? But …I missed you, so much, and I'm sorry about Peter, and…"
Sirius reached out instinctively and silenced him with a finger on the lips, because it was his Remus, and that's what he always did when Remus babbled.
Sirius drew back quickly, knowing his eyes were as wide as Remus', and he didn't have that right anymore. He set his mug down on the rickety coffee table, pressing shaking hands flat on his lap.
"Sorry," he said, ducking his head and looking away. "For that, and for what I said back before you left. I was an idiot. I was just so worried for James and Harry and Lils, and I let it override my common sense. I was so bloody stupid." He risked a glance back at Remus, who was watching the wall above Sirius’ head, lips pressed thinly together. Drawing in a shaking breath, Sirius continued.
"I was going to swap with Peter, because if James used Fidelius everyone, especially you, would know that it was me. Thought that was a brilliant plan-the perfect decoy." He shifted to the edge of his seat, willing Remus to look at him, needing Remus to understand this part if nothing else.
"But I went to Dumbledore for an Order meeting-just after you left-and the interfering old coot gave me such a lecture about not letting go of what was important, because that's how Voldemort would win, and it's like he knew, knew exactly what was going on in my head! I swear he's some kind of master Legilimens. I was going to track you down, to try and sort it all out, but you hid so well, Moony, and then I just ran out of time. We had to perform the Fidelius, and it was too late." He sighed, then took a sharp breath in when Remus finally met his eyes.
"Well, you've tracked me down now," Remus said.
"Yes."
Remus’ gaze faltered and he cradled his head in his hands.
"I miss you so much." The admission was so quiet that Sirius barely heard it, but his heart soared, warm hope flooding his veins.
"Come home then, Remus. I...just come home and we can work this out, yeah?"
It was Remus’ turn to sigh. He shifted in his seat. Sirius thought for a hopeful second that Remus would come and join him on the tatty sofa but he settled again, asked. "Where is home? I tried all the old places. They're mostly burned or boarded up. I was so scared until I heard the news that we won. I saw James and Lily were in the paper. You, too well someone’s opinions on you anyway. Those articles by that Skeeter woman. Bit of a cow, isn't she?"
"You were looking for me?" Sirius smiled.
"Yes, of course, I...yes," Remus frowned in frustration. "Damn it, Sirius, only you, in the whole world can make me sound like such an incoherent imbecile!"
"It's one of my many talents. I'm sure I can remind you of the rest," Sirius quipped. Then he sobered. "Tell me you'll come home with me Moony. No offence, but this place is a bit shit, and I really think that I can make you happy. I do. And you can still keep that job, Apparate or something? If you want to, that is. I had a lot of time to think, last year, and work out what was important. Merlin! I missed you too."
"Thank you," Remus smiled at him fondly and Sirius was relieved. He grinned back, and Remus continued. "But not tonight. It's late. Are you hungry? I can make something. You can stay, if you like. Take the bed. The couch is actually better to sleep on than sit on."
There were so many things Sirius wanted to say to that, but none of them would help right now. He nodded. "Thanks, Moony, that'd be good."
***
"Oh, sweet Merlin, it's cold out there!" Sirius stamped his feet vigorously to shake the clinging snow off his boots. Remus followed suit, blowing on cold fingers before following Sirius out of the tiny entranceway.
Remus looked around, a slightly bewildered expression on his face. The flat was not especially messy, Sirius had made an effort to clean. Boyish slovenliness had lost its appeal somewhat after an incident with neon orange mould. However, there was nothing to be done with the clutter; putting things away would require having somewhere for him to put them. He really needed some shelves, Sirius thought inanely, and perhaps another wardrobe, particularly if Remus was to have a place for his things.
"It's…it's so small and …Muggle," Remus exclaimed, quietly. Sirius raised his eyebrows. He was about to respond in an aggrieved fashion, but Remus hurried to qualify his assessment.
"I mean, for you. In comparison to what I'd expected. Something large and, um, yeah…sorry." Remus trailed off and turned his lost expression to the floor, playing with the hem of his coat.
Sirius opened his mouth to respond and closed it. Remus actually thought he had insulted him. He realised that he was not going to turn this into an argument, he didn’t feel the need to fly off the handle at an innocent implication of his upbringing. He also realised that that was part of what had Remus so turned around. Sirius had changed.
He shrugged. "Yeah, well I'm not sorry for that. And you don't have to be, you daft sod. It's like…" He gestured randomly in the air, looking for an appropriate simile. "It's like coming out of hiding let me leave all that stuff behind, like Harry did for James. Made me appreciate things more, I guess. I don't know. I'm not good at this kind of talk. You know that."
"Do I?" Remus looked truly despondent. "I don't think I do. I've been away for so long, and I don't think I know this new..."
"Poleaxed!" Sirius blurted out, and Remus, shaken from his melancholy by the unexpected declaration, demonstrated the adjective once more, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"I've just remembered the word!" Sirius explained, hurriedly. "Sorry, you know when the right word's on the tip of your tongue. S'the expression you had on your face, Moony."
The edge of Remus' mouth began to curve upwards, his shoulders twitching. Sirius grinned broadly. "We're still us, Moony, I'm still me, just…grown-up. Ish."
Remus nodded. "Still calling me on my fretting unduly though."
"But now with added subtlety."
Remus raised a single eyebrow, the small smile on his face not hiding now. "I see. Thanks then."
"Not a problem." Sirius flung his arm around Remus' shoulders. "I was an idiot, and so were you, right back. I think we're even."
Remus nodded absently, staring out of the window at the steadily falling snow, a slight frown drawing his brows together. Sirius shivered as the draft from the poorly insulated window assailed him, disappointed by how quickly Remus’ smile had disappeared.
"Penny for them, as my Muggle co-workers are fond of saying."
Remus blinked and drew in a slow breath. "Just thinking. We could be out there in this."
"Er, we just were out there in this, Remus, hence my timely 'Merlin, it's cold'," Sirius was puzzled.
"If James, Lily and Harry were still in hiding, if you'd not come to find me, or if it had all gone wrong and Dumbledore couldn't stop Voldemort...." Remus pressed his lips together, and Sirius wondered what he'd stopped himself from adding on to that, though he thought he had a pretty good idea.
Sirius leaned in to give him a sideways squeeze. "You, my Moony, worry too much. It didn't, he did, everything's going to be all right now!"
Remus smiled ruefully. "This time of the year, I'm maudlin in the cold. You've met me."
"True. Anyway, there's nothing like nearly freezing to make me grateful to be home with your upbeat self."
Remus reached up and clasped his long cool fingers around Sirius' strong hand where he was absently caressing Remus' collarbone.
"You're still as skinny as ever Moony," Sirius tutted.
"Sorry, Mother."
"Nah, s'good! I like your knobbly bits, as you well know," Sirius purred. Almost immediately he realised what he'd said and groped for something to say to cover himself, but Remus rolled his eyes, squeezing Sirius' hand under his. Reaching his free hand behind his back, Remus stroked the rough denim of Sirius' jeans, feeling his way downwards when his questing fingers met the zip. Sirius' hips bucked automatically against Remus' rear.
"That I do know, Pads."
"My bed's not been christened," Sirius breathed, flinging restrained maturity out of the window as a hungry craving assailed his brain.
"Bed? Are we that old now we need a bed?"
"I'm just more appreciative of the little things now," Sirius nuzzled Remus' neck, where his grey-flecked hair curled at the nape, reaching out with his tongue to flick Remus' earring. Remus ground back against him with a soft moan.
"Any more of that and the floor will be as far as we get. Can't believe you waited," Remus breathed. Sirius growled and nipped the side of his ear.
"'Course I did!" he said indignantly. "Love you, don't I."
Remus grabbed Sirius' shoulders, spinning him so they were face-to-face, eyes full of desire.
"You waited until now to tell me? After we went through all that?" His voice was low and rough, and heat pooled in Sirius groin.
"Told you I'm no good at saying this stuff," Sirius bit back, his hands aching to touch, to feel all of Remus, right now.
"Good thing I love you too then, isn't it!" Remus sounded exasperated, but his actions belied his words as he grabbed Sirius around the waist and pulled them flush together.
Sirius felt relief and want course fervently though him as he half-dragged Remus to the bedroom, clumsily trying to undress him while keeping as much of them touching as possible. He ignored the draft coming from the shoddy windows, the snow building up in layers on the windowsill and freezing the outside world, in favour of the fiery, passionate world they were rebuilding within his four walls.
"Welcome home, Moony," he whispered.