Phases of the Wolf

Phases of the Wolf 2: An old flame and a fire

Sirius paced angrily, growling at the door in frustration. There was only so much he could take and, after twelve years of Azkaban, a stubborn, self-sacrificing werewolf was the last straw.

"'I need to do this alone, Sirius'," he mimicked, voice rising with his anger. "'I can't rely on you again, Sirius. Dark Creatures are meant to be solitary, Sirius'" He pounded his fists against the door - "You're not a BLOODY DARK CREATURE, Moony!" He was answered with an eldritch howl and he cringed, turning to slide down against the wood.

It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly. Of all the promises he'd tried to keep, staying with Remus had been the one he'd wanted to be true above all. Remus needed him and he'd promised to be there.

"Fucking Voldemort," he muttered, scrubbing at his irritated eyes. "Fucking Azkaban. And Peter, you FUCKING BASTARD!" Another pained howl and Sirius fell silent, thudding his head against the wood and trying not to listen to the wolf tearing itself to pieces in Moony's cellar.

If Remus had his way, Sirius would be two counties away until the battered man managed to let him know it was all right to return.

"I'm dangerous, Sirius," he'd said, green eyes regarding him intensely, pleading. They screamed to stay away, protect himself, please Pads, don't let me hurt you. Sirius was having none of it. How many years had he been alone with the werewolf, man and dog, subduing the wolf and comforting the man?

As if Moony could ever hurt him! A few scratches, a couple of interesting bruises - nothing compared to the damage Remus brought to himself in Sirius' absence. Like he was doing right now.

"I had to leave you then, Moony," he whispered. "Why won't you let me help you now?"

~

The wolf could sense him and craved to break down the door, attack, devour. Behind those glowing golden eyes, Remus held on, sinking teeth into his paw - hand- - to keep the beast from the door, from baying for Sirius' blood.

The wolf mind pined for Padfoot, and some selfish part of Remus wanted Sirius to hold him come dawn. But no, independent now, *free*.

The wolf pulled against the chains and howled.

~

Sirius was woken by sunlight playing across his face, neck stiff from sleeping slumped against the wall. He noticed the absence of sounds from the adjoining room and panicked. He fumbled with the key in the lock before forcing open the heavy oak door and rushing down the stone-cut steps.

The sight that greeted him was less than pleasant. Remus' body was a bloody mess and all Sirius could see was red, horrible, horrific red. In panic, he rushed forward.

"Moony, Moony, can you hear me?" He noticed then that Remus was still breathing, and closed his eyes in silent relief.

He wanted to be calm, calm for Remus but all he succeeded in doing was working himself into a frenzy. He berated himself when his fingers slipped on the blooded chains - he wasn't thinking, just not thinking. What he wanted to do was get Remus out of there, away from this. He removed them as quickly and carefully as he could, before grabbing hold of his face.

"Remus, *Moony*, can you hear me?" A soft sigh escaped Remus' lips, a tinge of pain embedded in the sound. Sirius moaned aloud.

There were deep long gouges on Remus' arms and a bruise was forming on the temple - Sirius realised he had tried to break down the heavy oak door. No - the wolf, the *wolf* had tried. Remus would never hurt him. Even if Sirius wished he could take this pain from him.

With great tenderness, he reached for an old blanket nearby and wrapping Remus carefully, he picked him up - he was so light! - and took him up the stairs and into the dawn light. He stood there for a moment, trying to remember the carefully formulated plans that he'd made as he'd paced under the stars and the cruel, unblinking eye of the moon.

He took Remus up the rickety cottage stairs into the bathroom, shouldering open the door and placing Moony on the toilet seat as he ran a hot bath. Remus stirred but didn't wake, leaning into Sirius. He was tense even in sleep, the furrow in the centre of his forehead indicating he was in pain. How Sirius longed to smooth it away, like he'd done before, back when they were more, more than the careful, cautious friends they'd become.

Those years of hatred and suspicion were not as easily erased as he had hoped. Still it terrified him how quickly they'd fallen back into the old ways and old patterns. He remembered all too well the day he'd arrived at Remus', exhausted and half-starved dog shakily entering and becoming an even shakier man. Remus had taken one look at him, and stepped forward just as he'd collapsed into his strong werewolf's arms.

"Easy, Sirius," he had said, a hint of a smile in his voice as he'd lowered Sirius to rest against the cottage wall. Sirius had closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them to cast a glance at Remus. He'd smiled, running his hands idly through Sirius' hair, dislodging leaves and other detritus.

"Good to see you, Moony mate," he'd said, half-jest and half deep, overwhelming relief, gratitude and joy wrapped into one, unidentifiable emotion. Well, not so obscure if one had not spent twelve years of one's life in Azkaban, being drained of all happiness, all life. Sirius was just beginning to get used to the ache deep in his chest that meant yes, he was beginning to care again.

Remus had fetched him cuts of meat from the fridge, watching him devour them with satisfaction, before burying them both under a blanket in the hall, Sirius leaning on him for support. Completely reversed situation now - the moon had taken its toll and Remus was leaning against him, looking so fragile. Yet Sirius knew that he was no longer fragile: he'd had to learn to be stronger without Sirius.

The bath had finished running and he tested it with his finger, before lifting Remus up and gently depositing him in the water. His eyes opened, still golden from the pull of the moon, and he hissed. Sirius shushed him, watching in barely-concealed horror as the water tinged pink. He bathed the wounds with a soft cloth, one hand touching Remus' cheek in reassurance.

"Oh, Moony, why do you let this happen? Why doesn't that git Snape brew the potion anymore?"

Remus sighed. "He's under no obligation to, Sirius. It's not vital."

Sirius swallowed his opinions on that, knowing he would only make things worse. He cupped some water in his hand, pouring it over Remus' head like a benediction, cleansing him of the torturous curse of the moon.

When he was convinced the wounds were clean, he made to pick him up but Remus grabbed his arm, golden eyes fixed on him in anger.

"I can manage," he said, perhaps a little harsher than usual but Sirius smiled: that stubborn mulish trait was all Remus with only a taint of wolf. Sirius backed off, knowing Remus needed his independence in this. Perhaps.

He gestured expansively. "Be my guest, Moony."

Remus grabbed the sides of the tub and tried to push himself up. After three attempts, all ending in failure, he slumped back in the water, closing his eyes briefly before glaring at Sirius.

"A little help, perhaps," he conceded. Sirius stepped forward with a grin, supporting him under the arms as he stood shakily and stepped out of the tub. Sirius wrapped him in a big fluffy towel. It was a little threadbare in places, but Sirius had long stopped noticing those kinds of things.

He held Remus close, patting dry the already-healing wounds, werewolf-induced. One small blessing for such a terrible curse. They tried to walk a few steps together before Sirius despaired and slung him up into his arms, despite Remus' protests, carrying him downstairs into the kitchen, where the healing supplies were kept.

Sirius had not had much prowess with the wand since Azkaban but these healing spells were as deeply ingrained in him as Wingardium Leviosa and Accio. He could no more forget the ritual of those months than he could his own soul. Once more he cursed the terrible misfortune that had kept him from Remus all this time.

It was Remus' warning glare that stopped Sirius laying him across the table, instead settling him on the hard wooden chair. Remus was drifting off again, a combination of the hot water and the effects of the werewolf's rage catching up with him. Sirius propped him against the table edge, before rifling through the cupboards for pain-relieving potions and the usual salves.

"You won't find any Mungo's products. New laws." Remus murmured sleepily, and Sirius scowled. Damn Ministry. If they weren't out to kill him, he'd storm up there right now, demand they look deep into Remus' eyes and declare him nothing but the kind, caring human being that he was. His Moony was no monster - what right had they to deny him medicine!

"Leave it, Sirius," was the amused whisper from the chair. "Though you were always...prettier angry."

"Sexy, Moony," Sirius replied automatically. "Pretty is for girls."

"F'you say so, Pads." His words were slurring - soon he'd be asleep at the table.

"Give me a minute, Moony. I'll find some murtlap essence, you have to keep a bottle somewhere. Then bandages and bed - I should light a fire. This house is drafty, mate."

"You're babbling."

"And you can never sleep while I'm babbling!" said Sirius, triumphantly, earning him a reluctant smile. He gave up with Moony's haphazard cupboards - completely at odds with his bookcase - and pulled his wand. "Accio Murtlap!"

A tiny green bottle flung itself at his head and he just caught it before it smashed into his jaw. Sirius turned back to Remus clutching the bottle and the bandages he'd found, delighted that he'd managed to restore the 'exasperated professor' look to Remus' eyes.

"You're dangerous with my kitchen."

"Hey, maybe I should be listed with the Ministry instead!" Sirius said lightly, hoping to drive the final shades from Remus' eyes. He could still see the man fighting the urge to cry for his independence or...something else. Sirius was out of practice when it came to reading Moony, or any person at all really. Another skill he'd have to relearn.

"No, they just think you're a wanted murderer. Dark Creature might actually be a trade-up." The emerald-gold eyes gleamed with mirth and Sirius could've cried.

His Remus was so beautiful, even marred by moonlight and half-collapsed - but Sirius knew his attentions were unwelcome. They couldn't have been more formal if they were complete strangers, and Remus was emotionally and physically exhausted. He didn't need a train-wreck of a man to start throwing himself at him out of some convoluted, half-forgotten sense of love. Sirius' wires were so crossed that it would probably come out sideways, as tears or anger - love was a distant memory, and he could barely recall hope.

Sirius shook his head violently - this melancholic moping wasn't helping Remus and his head was nodding towards the table again. With motions his hands could never forget, he smoothed on the liquid as gently as he could before wrapping the bandages deftly around the angry leaking lines struck across the pale, paper skin. Soon, Remus looked like a Mummy and Sirius told him so.

"You always say the sweetest things," Remus sighed against his neck, not even an attempt at protest as Sirius pulled him into his arms, still enshrouded in the towel over the stark white bandaging.

"We need to get you some clothes," Sirius thought aloud, as Remus buried himself further into his neck. It was exactly the way Sirius remembered it: once the wolf had faded, Remus would crave human contact, far more tactile than the guarded Professor Lupin would ever allow. It was instinct more than choice, but Sirius still felt trusted, needed.

"I have a nightgown. Don't say a word."

Sirius tried not to laugh, but his shoulders were shaking and he would've dropped Remus had he not mastered his self-control quickly. "I'm...I'm sorry. I'll go and get your...very manly and fetching...nightgown."

After placing Remus carefully on the sofa, Sirius hurried upstairs and into the sanctum of Remus' bedroom. He had kept it off-limits in his mind and had therefore spent as little time there as possible, save for when Remus had dragged him up there for the first couple of days to "rest and recuperate". There was no stopping his stubborn werewolf in that mood.

It was cosy enough - a rickety double dominated the room with a faded coverlet that Sirius vaguely recalled being knitted by Remus' grandmother and a plump pillow that probably concealed a stash of chocolate. Old habits died hard.

He dragged his eyes away from the bed and made for the chest of drawers, deciding the top drawer was as good a starting place as any. He stopped still, starring at what he found. Nestled amongst the pyjamas and the ridiculous nightgown was a pure silver photo frame, glinting darkly in the curtain-filtered light.

Sirius shoved aside the ingrained Pureblood instinct to calculate carat and value and instead ghosted his fingers over the moving figures before him, one sparkling-eyed boy leaning forward to fondly wipe chocolate from his grinning friend's nose. The green eyes glowed with laughter as he smiled with chocolate-smeared lips, look adoring even then. Dark eyes returned the ardour, a smoulder to rival phoenix fire, and Sirius wondered if James had realised exactly what he was taking, the quaint courtship ritual of which none of them was aware.

It seemed a strange thing to keep, and in such an odd place, but Sirius had yet to relearn Remus' mind. Perhaps it would come to him. Right now, Remus' trinkets were not important - he needed to get him dressed and settled. Pulling the white gown from the drawer, he set off back downstairs, humming some half-remembered swing piece that was unfathomably stuck in his head.

"Okay, so it's not so bad, I suppose. Just..." Sirius stopped, as he realised his audience was sound asleep, curled into a protective ball on the sofa. He sighed softly, before muttering 'incendio' to the fireplace and beginning his task.

~

Remus shifted, surrounded by warmth and the unfamiliar sensation of protection. He dismissed it quickly as pack mentality, shunning any part of the wolf within. Still, it was comforting, the feeling of being watched, guarded. Though who would be there was...

His eyes snapped open, cataloguing the drawn curtains, blazing fire and the slumbering man holding his blanket-bundled form close. They were lying on the sofa, Sirius's head resting against one couch arm whilst Remus was slumped over him in a tartan cocoon, face buried into Sirius' t-shirt.

Remus realised he should be scowling, fighting the loss of his freedom, his autonomy, deriding the waste of wood as the fire burned merrily despite it being the middle of summer and, most of all, the fact that Sirius had ignored his explicit instructions to stay the hell away.

Oh but how easy it had been to give in, simple surrender to Sirius' firm but gentle hands as they guided, reassured, healed. Too long had Remus stumbled about this cottage at dawn, nibbling at bread and awkwardly casting healing charms before collapsing onto the sofa for ten hours or so; too long. His body craved warmth, care, comfort, and if Sirius was here, why not take the offering?

Because he will not always be here.

His mind dutifully supplied his reason, as always, and Remus looked regretfully at Sirius' lined, shadowed face. No longer the young trainee Auror, the friend who had promised he would stay - Sirius Black was a wanted criminal, and soon he would have to run again as Remus threw himself into whatever task Dumbledore brought to him next.

There were no promises in this age, and none in the former, though they had been blinded by youth, sure they could vanquish the Dark Lord and restore their world to normal, hold onto each other. Instead, with Voldemort's fall, Remus had lost every friend he had ever known - James and Lily, Peter and Sirius. They were dead to him, all four, and he had vowed never to share his secret, his hope with anyone else again.

It had made sense then, and now wasn't all that different, was it? Though Sirius was no longer lost, and Remus had to learn to fight the indoctrinations he'd forced upon himself: Sirius betrayed James and Lily, Sirius killed Peter, I do not love Sirius Black.

He had convinced himself of the first - they were dead, weren't they? And Peter too, in a Muggle-packed street, blasted away with only a finger - a finger! - left for his loved ones. And Sirius, Sirius had killed him, oh how I wished he had.

But Remus - logical, rational Remus Lupin - had known the truth for over a year now, that Peter was the traitor and Sirius just hell-bent on a quest for vengeance, trying and failing to destroy the murderer of his friends. Remus had lived with his own desire to kill, to take Peter's miserable life; he could blame it on the wolf, on the closeness of the terrible moon, but deep down, he knew that it was all him. Peter had killed James and Lily, served the Dark Lord, kept Sirius from me for all these years, made me hate him. Sirius...

Remus reached up absently, trailing his fingers down Sirius' cheek and watching a smile form. "Moony," he whispered, before settling back to sleep and Remus sighed. Remus knew he was innocent, as did Harry and Dumbledore and everyone else that mattered. But it wouldn't stop the Dementors coming for him, taking him from Remus - for good this time - and so Remus had to send him away, for Sirius' life and Remus' resolve.

Because the more time he spent close to Sirius, the closer he wanted to become and every time he took that liberty, the more he wanted him in ways he could not permit himself any longer. Sirius had been brutalised by the world, and Remus would not heap the confused feelings of a lonely werewolf onto him as well.

Awkwardly, he settled himself back over Sirius, taking a deep breath of the man who had once been his entire world. Because it would the last time he could permit himself such a luxury.

~

"Sirius!"

A scream in the dark, the sudden flash of fire, another cry of pain - he could just see a shadow against the burning light, huddled, afraid, slipping away...

"REMUS - NO!"

Sirius jolted awake with a gasp, heart pounding. His hands tightened on the bundle of blanket resting on his chest and he sighed in relief.

"Not going anywhere, Sirius," came the sleepy voice tucked under his chin, and long pale fingers touched at his jaw.

Struggling to control his ragged breathing, Sirius absently reached down to place a hand in Remus' hair, the familiar motions, too long absent, soothing him and causing Remus to bury further into his shoulder.

"You worry too much," the werewolf continued lightly. "Stop blaming yourself for those twelve years."

"I wasn't there," Sirius found himself saying, an oddly hollow voice from his own throat. "James needed me, and I was chasing Pettigrew. And then...then I didn't think. Hagrid wouldn't let me take Harry, but I had to do something. I was so angry...lost. I found him in that street, and I didn't think of anyone, not *you*. All I could see was his living, *breathing* face, when James was so still, Lily so pale. I would've done it, Unforgivable Curse be damned, but he...he..."

His breath hitched and it was only when Remus shifted, feather touch on his cheeks, that he realised he was crying. He tried to bury it, stop the telltale shaking of his shoulders, but Remus' heavily bandaged arms were curling round his neck and he couldn't remain composed in the face of such tenderness.

Openly sobbing into Remus' neck, a flood of despair finally released after fourteen years, Sirius let the memories truly settle into his soul without the cushioning anger, bitterly accepting what his heart had refused to face.

He had never been more glad of Remus in his entire life.

"You're everything to me, you know that?" he gasped out, mouth moving of its own accord. Remus' grip tightened.

"Still here, Pads," he whispered, and Sirius heard the subtle catch in his voice.

"I can't lose you, Remus, I can't do that again!" he said, even as the guilt struck - he had been the deserter, he'd left Remus alone in a world that hated him. He had no right to demand forever, he wondered how Remus could even look at him

"I will do everything in my power to stay here, with you. I...I can't be alone again either." The confession was quiet and Sirius realised how much the revelation had cost him. He had almost forgotten Remus' masks and how he had fought to tear down those barriers - he hated that he was the reason they were back in such force, strengthened and soul-eating.

"I won't leave you," he promised, but Remus raised his eyes to meet his, shaking his head slowly.

"Don't say that, Pads. Don't let them break your word again."

Sirius stared into those hollow, hopeless eyes before resting his chin on Remus' shoulder, absently kissing the side of his throat. "I, Sirius Black," he began, punctuating it with another kiss, "do solemnly swear to stay with Remus Lupin until," another kiss, lingering, "death take me," he pulled away to look into Remus' misting eyes and smiled, "or he kicks me out on my ass for not listening."

Remus hesitated a moment, but then smiled tearfully before bursting out laughing, which quickly turned to a pained choke. Abruptly, Sirius remembered what day it was and that Remus really didn't need to play emotional prop in his state.

"I've kept you up too long," he said guiltily, disentangling himself from Remus' arms. "We should get you up to bed."

He made to get up but Remus took hold of his chin, eyes burning with a strange light Sirius hardly recognised. "I'm fine right here," he murmured, and then he kissed him.

It was light, tentative, but for Sirius Black, humanity-deprived for fourteen years, it was the spark to reignite his heart and he returned it fiercely, making Remus gasp against his lips. He pulled away instantly.

"Did I hurt you?" he said anxiously, but Remus just smiled, eyes soft but tired.

"No. You blew me away." Sirius felt heat rise in his cheeks but Remus just trailed his cheek. "But...I think I need to rest." A yawn punctuated his statement and he slid down to rest against Sirius, head resting in the crook of his neck.

Sirius, slightly giddy, just nodded, fingers once more returning to Remus' hair and wondering when the world had shifted on its axis.

~

Remus awoke to singing. It wasn't quite on-key, or possessing all the right words, but it was definitely singing.

Intrigued, Remus shifted from under the blanket, wincing as the stiff, blood-tinged bandages pulled against healing skin. Rising slowly, he picked up the dressing gown that had been hung up nearby and shrugged it on carefully before moving towards the source of the music.

It appeared to originate from his kitchen, and as he made his way slowly towards the ajar door, he began to recognise the scratchy tune seeping from his gramophone and the distinctive smell of frying eggs.

The instrumental blared as Sirius swung his hips in what one could only hopelessly describe as a 'sashay', stabbing at the eggs in time to the music. Remus leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of Sirius in old jeans and shirt, finally filling into the clothes Remus had guiltily kept from all those years ago. He was quite a sight, face no longer hollow and eyes fairly glowing with a light that had been achingly absent.

He tried to stop himself laughing, as Sirius started singing again.

"Women and girls rule my world; I say they rule my world." He lapsed back to humming and Remus spoke, nearly causing Sirius to drop the pan.

"Should I be jealous?"

Sirius faced him with a lopsided grin and Remus saw he was wearing an apron, one that appeared to have been transfigured (badly) from a teacloth.

"My dear Moony, these 'girls' are only a passing phase. I have always been partial to...the wolf." His voice dropped to a sultry register and Remus shivered. Sirius smirked and turned off the gas, carefully tipping the eggs onto a plate and reaching for the freshly-toasted bread. He pulled out the grill pan and Remus was hit with the sharp smell of bacon. The wolf slavered but Remus pushed it down.

"You have been busy. And you haven't burnt down my house - I'm impressed."

Sirius took off the 'apron', throwing it on the table and laid the dripping bacon beside the eggs and toast. "I've always been an excellent cook, Remus. And such skills have not faded as much as certain Transfiguration charms." He looked ruefully at the teacloth and Remus pushed away from the door, unwilling to let the melancholy set in.

He stopped when a wave of dizziness hit him, and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. Within moments, he was surrounded by Sirius, held and worshipped all at once. He was now a whole other kind of dizzy.

"It's not fair to tease a man in my condition," he said breathlessly and Sirius chuckled against his neck, a sweet brush of lips against his pulse.

"Tease? Moi? Au contraire, mon cher, je suis très sérieux."

Remus the little leap of his heart and resorted to humour. "Yes, Sirius, I do believe we've met."

That earned him a groan and Sirius pulled back, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Right, you're going to bed and then we shall eat. You must be half-starved."

Remus' stomach chose that moment to rumble its assent and Sirius threw back his head and laughed, a sight that made Remus lose all his mental functions. So many years he'd longed to see such a thing and here he was, the bright shining Sirius Black that had once been. Here, in his kitchen with this laughing, living man and Tom Jones crooning in the background, Remus could almost believe the war to be over.

"I don't need to go to bed, Sirius. I have work to do..."

"Oh rubbish, Remus. It's nothing that can't wait. Dumbledore doesn't need the thing before the weekend and Harry has sent chocolate - do you need a better excuse?"

Remus' eyes narrowed. "You've been reading my mail."

Sirius blushed and looked away. "Old habits," he mumbled.

The exhausted werewolf sighed and ghosted a hand through Sirius' hair. The discussions and rule-making could wait for later - right now he had Sirius and it wasn't hurting as much as he had feared. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.

"Breakfast is getting cold," he said gently and Sirius looked up at him with a slight grin before bending and pulling him up into his arms.

"Sirius, this is ridiculous, put me down! I am a grown man and I am perfectly capable of walking by myself!"

"Maybe I just *want* to carry you," Sirius said with a smile and Remus settled for rolling his eyes and indulging Sirius' absurd fantasies just this once. He had never been any good at resisting his wishes in any case.

Sirius clambered up the stairs with him and took him straight into the bedroom, laying him on the bed with utmost care. He pulled up the blanket and settled it over Remus, and with a wink, disappeared back down the stairs.

Remus sighed and settled back against the pillow, allowing his body to relax. Sirius was right - the work wasn't urgent and if he was honest, he only used it as motivation after full moon. The temptation was great, to just lie and waste away from the dull pain and exhaustion. Now Remus had Sirius, and he found that was all the inspiration he needed.

So he would just lie back and enjoy the sweet treat Harry had sent - he and Hermione seemed resolved to keep him in chocolate after every full moon. Odd that the diligent Gryffindor girl had forgotten...Remus suddenly smiled. Ah, of course - the habitual chocolate cake she sent would be a favourite of Sirius' and he had most likely secreted it away. Remus would be having words about *that*.

Still, there would always be next month's. Sirius couldn't hide his cake forever.

It slowly dawned on Remus that he was *planning* - a trait that had been often ridiculed at school, but one he treasured as uniquely him. And he had been planning the future, a future with him *and* Sirius. Unconsciously, he had slotted Sirius back into his life without care, and he was already winding himself around Remus' thoughts and into his plans.

It was a frightening discovery, and yet oddly reassuring - innately, deep in his soul, Remus knew Sirius was here for keeps. And he would do anything to keep it that way.

Having reached such a revelation Remus settled onto his side, facing the small bedside table stacked high with books. He frowned - there was now a photo frame resting amongst the weighty tomes. As he peered closer, he realised what he was seeing.

The silver was tarnished but it still revolted Remus, even as the picture within called to him, drawing the teenaged memories from their dark recesses. He had seen that picture often enough and its harsh border of poison, reminding him that such happy times were now inaccessible to him - Sirius could never be his again and the giddy photo locked into that treacherous metal frame would always serve as a reminder of the fact.

"You're brooding again. I thought that was my job."

Remus looked up at the light-hearted jibe, noting the tinge of worry in Sirius' eyes. The man followed his eye line and hesitated.

"I hope...that's alright. It's a nice picture of us. Says a lot."

Remus looked between the aging photograph and the questioning look of his Sirius, the youth returning to his eyes and closer to him that ever before.

To the world, he was the man who had survived Azkaban and had murdered his friends, agent of the Dark Lord.

To Remus, he was the man who tended his wounds, made him breakfast whilst dancing to Tom Jones and who had once been a boy who wiped chocolate from his nose, looking at him with unspeakable adoration.

To Remus, he was the world. And Remus would never let that change again.

"Yes, yes I like it," he said, a smile lighting up his face. "But I think it needs a new frame."