Casualties of War

Harry watched Malfoy approach with a dry mouth and an iron weight in his stomach. The other boy walked slowly towards him, his face lifted, already smiling in greeting. Harry didn't trust that smile. It bore no resemblance to the one that Malfoy had been wearing inside; this was much more of a cat-got-the-mouse sort of smile, the type he used to sport at Hogwarts, right before he was going to say something particularly awful. Excitement had briefly flared inside of him when he had first heard the kitchen door swing open, but it had died abruptly when the other boy had come into view. Harry gripped his broomstick tighter, steeling himself.

Malfoy's eyes gleamed as he strolled up to Harry, still sitting on the ground with his broom across his lap, a polishing rag in one hand. He was practically strutting as he reached Harry, and Harry felt himself pull back involuntarily. He had been waiting for Malfoy to come after him, as strange as that had been to realize, but now that Malfoy had appeared, looking for all the world as though they were back at Hogwarts, still mortal enemies, he found that he wanted nothing to do with the pale, pointy boy.

Malfoy stopped only inches away, looking down his nose at Harry. "Running away," he crooned softly. "Like a little baby."

Harry glared at him over the top of his glasses, digging in his pocket for the tiny shears that he had retrieved from the broom shed. He trimmed the twigs on his broom viciously. "You're one to talk, aren't you? I saw you in there, sitting at Snape's feet, practically licking his - "

Malfoy cut him off abruptly, his smirk brittle. "Jealous that nobody's paying attention to you, Potter? It's terrible when no one cares about you, isn't it?"

"You would know," Harry returned. Malfoy scoffed, but his eyes faltered, just a little bit.

"Oh yes, I would, wouldn't I? I've certainly been watching you long enough to know how it goes. Soon I'll be fainting all over the place, demanding attention," he drawled. " 'Oh no, nobody loves me but the entire world! Oh sob, cry, oh my scar hurts. I have a funny feeling in my little toe!' "

"You're already demanding," Harry snarled, pushing to his feet. "You're also in my way." Malfoy quickly stepped in front of him, crowding close.

"Oh Potter," he sighed rapturously, grinning. "You know that you love it."

It had never been Harry that had to be held back during a fight with Malfoy; Ron usually took care of that, struggling against Harry and Hermione at the slightest bit of filth that slipped out of the Slytherin's mouth. He hadn't been the one saying that Malfoy 'wasn't worth it,' either. He would trade insults until it came to blows or until a teacher intervened, but when Malfoy reached a hand up to stroke his cheek, something gave a violent wrench in Harry's chest, a wrench that demanded he leave now. He shoved roughly past Malfoy, using his broom handle to push the other boy out of his way, almost running to get enough room to take off.

He turned back towards Malfoy as he mounted his broom, shoving his glasses angrily back up his nose. "You know what, Malfoy?" Harry said, and then frowned. He looked at Malfoy, and then at the ground, and then up to the sky. Malfoy stared at him, his lips thin.

"What?" he demanded. Harry scowled at him, but his mind remained empty of insults. His fingers tightened around the broomstick convulsively. They stared each other down for a long moment, and then Malfoy folded his arms over his chest, his smirk firmly back on his face.

"That's what I thought."

Fury hit Harry in the stomach with the force of a bullet. Then he was speaking, blurting out the words before his brain had time to process them. "Why are you so happy that Snape's here anyway?" he snarled. "It's not like he's your dad. Your dad doesn't even give a shit about you anyway."

The colour left Malfoy's face as quickly as if it had been slapped away. "You don't know anything about my dad," he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"I know him well enough to know that he left you to die," Harry said, and then he was in the air, flying away from the look on Malfoy's face, and whatever words Malfoy might have shouted after him were lost in the wind.

"You look terrible," Severus said as he settled into his chair, scowling as it rocked in the grass underneath him. Remus laughed as he conjured a chair for himself, startled.

"As brutally honest as ever, I see," he said, smiling at Severus, who curled a lip in response. "I wonder sometimes, Severus, if Draco stole all of his lovely facial expressions from you."

"You're trying to change the subject."

Remus sighed. "Yes, I suppose I am. You're quite quick to notice it."

Severus smiled just a little at that, turning the mug of tea between his fingers. "You forget that I've spent nearly my entire life around Albus Dumbledore." His eyes drifted outward, to where one of Remus' young charges sat on his broom, his expression foul, kicking petulantly at the air. Draco was nowhere to be seen. "How has it been?" he asked quietly. Remus' eyebrows lifted. They watched Harry in silence as he made lazy loops in the air, still kicking. It was obvious that the boys had had some sort of argument between the time Draco had left the house and when he and Severus had followed. Idly, he wondered where Draco had wandered off to.

"They're not quite as fierce as some of our colleagues seem to think," he responded, knowing full well that it wasn't the boys that Severus was asking about.

"You're allowing the conversation to drift, Lupin." Remus gave an evil look, which Severus took in stride.

"It hasn't been all that bad," Remus said after a pause, casting his eyes to the side. He'd been listing symptoms for most of his life. It made him no more self-conscious than being nude before and after each transformation. "Nausea, sometimes. Vomiting at night. I'm exhausted, constantly, but I suppose that's only to be expected. Muscle pain, stiffness. I have difficulty breathing, and I suppose that that's what's worried me the most."

"Turn to face me."

Remus complied, and Severus pulled his wand out of his sleeve, holding it inches from Remus' chest, his brow furrowing. Remus sat patiently under Severus' scrutiny, casting an eye around the sky to see where Draco had gone. He looked to Severus, and stifled a smile at the look of concentration on the other man's face.

"And what is so amusing, Lupin?" Severus asked, without glancing up. Remus could almost hear Severus taking notes in his own brain, silently listing the things his wand was telling him that had not been included in Remus' list of symptoms. Loss of strength and dexterity. Vomiting more than just at night. The creak of Remus' bones, the careful way that he moved. The fluid in his lungs that kept him coughing for hours. No one would ever be able to accuse Severus of being unobservant, or unskilled at what he did.

"You reminded me of Poppy," Remus replied eventually. Severus sniffed and pulled away, resuming his usual stiff posture.

"I'm sure that you know the worst of it."

Remus smiled. "Oh, be positive for once in your life, Severus. There's always that silver lining, after all."

Severus glared at him, irritation written plainly on his face. "Are you expecting a diagnosis or to have your fortune told, Lupin? Or are you as incapable of taking life seriously as your ... friend?" Remus sighed.

"No. No, I'm not. I expect you to be honest with me. And I am taking this very seriously. But - if I don't stay positive, I'm afraid that it might ..." He trailed off, coughing violently. As the coughing died, he managed to grin weakly. "Well."

Severus regarded him silently.

"I'm sure I won't have any surprises for you. You're right to be worried about your lungs. They took the heaviest damage during the ... transformation. But I suspect that it's also simple werewolf biology at work."

Remus nodded, sipping his tea, amused: for once, Severus had managed to say 'werewolf' without making it sound like a foul word. "I suspected as much. How bad is it?"

"I wouldn't be able to tell you that without cutting you open and examining your lungs in a proper environment, and I'm afraid your hovel simply won't measure up to my standards. You'll have to make do with a guess." He paused, sucking in a breath. His tea lay untouched between his hands. "But it is bad."

Remus sighed heavily, the air catching like fish hooks in his chest. His fingers shook slightly as he lifted the mug of tea to his lips. "I know. You don't have to say it, if it makes this any easier for you." Severus considered him for a long moment, then turned away and took a long drink from his mug. They sat in silence. Remus' eyes followed Harry as he slowly drifted to the ground on the other side of the pond, disappearing from view behind the long grass.

"Have you told Black?"

Remus flinched. "No."

A pause. "I see."

Remus shook his head. "I can't."

Severus stared at him, his eyes heavily lidded, and when he spoke, his voice made Remus shiver. "We are not honest men, you and I. But Black, as thick as he is, will find out, whether you tell him or not. Did you bring sugar out?"

"Mm? Oh, yes." Remus reached down, scooping the sugar off of the tray that was laying on the ground between their chairs at the same time that Severus reached for it himself. Their fingers brushed, and Remus jerked his hand back as if stung. He looked down, to the bowl of sugar between his fingers, and then back up at Severus, who was regarding him with an amused quirk to his lips.

"Are you contagious, Lupin?" he asked. Remus handed him the bowl wordlessly, and when Severus laid his fingers on top of Remus', Remus didn't pull away.

"Why not?

Remus blinked. "Excuse me?"

Severus pulled away, bringing his other hand up to grasp the sugar bowl, dropping two lumps into his tea as he settled back. "Why can't you tell Black?"

Remus shifted in his chair, running his tongue across his upper lip. Somehow, he felt as though a bit of control had slipped out from under him, stolen quietly away by the slight smirk on Severus' mouth. "I think sometimes that Sirius still believes that I am thirteen years old ... so helpless that I need my shoelaces tied for me. I can't do this to him. I can't tell him."

Severus watched him silently, his face expressionless. Silence lay heavily between them. "I've brought the Draught of Peace, to help you sleep," he said finally. "Dittany for your stomach. Comfrey for your lungs ... brew a tea of it, with a teaspoon of witch hazel. Everything's in my case. I brought the books that you asked for, although I don't know what use you think you'll be able to put them to. We've found nothing of the curse that was put on Draco."

Remus looked up to the sky, breathing in deeply before answering. "Actually, I was hoping to research protection spells. I have an idea that we'll need them, and if ..." His throat closed, and he found himself unable to finish. He shut his eyes and brought a hand up to his throat, rubbing it as if that would banish the sudden fear that he felt. It wasn't supposed to be this way, he thought, and then shook his head. There was no use in thinking things like that. Nobody ever got to decide such matters. It was stupid, and worse yet, it was indulgent, and he'd be damned if he was going to let Severus Snape watch him pity himself. "If Voldemort attacks and Sirius or I are ... indisposed, I'd rather not leave the boys' lives up to chance or Harry."

Severus snorted. "A wise choice, I'm sure."

Remus pursed his lips and sighed heavily, a bit of Remus-language that Sirius always found amusing to decode: I'm losing my patience, but you're thick-headed so nothing I do will make any difference.

Severus gifted him with a sidelong glance, and Remus shrugged. In the distance, he caught a glint of sunlight on white-blond hair, moving through the edges of the forest parallel to Remus' home. He nodded towards it, sipping his tea. "Draco's coming. Perfect timing, I think. I should get some lunch on for these growing boys."

He stood, vanishing his chair with a wave of his wand before turning to look at Severus. "Will you stay? I know Draco would be thrilled if you did." Severus tilted his head up, dividing his attention between Remus and the approaching teenager.

"How enticing," he said dryly. "Watching two children kick each other's shins for the afternoon." There was dirt on Draco's face, Remus observed in amazement. Dirt all up on his cheek and his forehead, and how on earth did Draco manage to do that? Snape made a thoughtful noise beside him. "He's becoming a savage under your care," Severus remarked.

"No," Remus replied absently. "I accidentally dropped the hairbrush down the toilet the other day, and I think he's taking its loss rather personally." Severus smirked, but the expression in his flinty eyes suggested to Remus that this was Severus' dignified version of laughing.

"He told me Potter had stolen it."

"Mmm, no. That was me. Hello, Draco," he called, as the boy approached them. "You've dirt on your face." Draco looked at him blankly, frowned, and brought his arm up to rub furiously at his cheek, accomplishing nothing. Absurdly, Remus was reminded intensely of Sirius, who never seemed to know how dirt had gotten onto his face either.

"Potter's a bastard," he said abruptly.

Remus frowned thoughtfully at him. "You weren't chasing the Gins, were you?" Draco flushed.

"It's Potter's fault," he replied. Remus pondered that while Draco disappeared into the house. Remus and Severus regarded each other silently.

"That boy's logic is beyond me sometimes," Remus remarked. He surveyed the field beyond the pond, looking for a hint of where Harry had gone to. He hoped that Harry hadn't fallen asleep in the grass.

"You should have known him when he was a child," Severus said, getting to his feet. He brushed invisible dust from his robes, pulling his wand out of his sleeve to vanish his chair away. "He was an appalling child."

"I bet you two got along famously," Remus said, smiling placidly.

Consciousness came back to Harry in the form of a good sharp poke in the forehead. He flailed against the sudden assault, startled, opening his eyes only to be immediately blinded by the sun directly overhead. "Aargh," he said, scrunching his eyes up tight. Laughter came from above him, and cautiously he opened an eye.

A halo of blond hair had moved into his line of vision, blocking out the sun, and as he opened his other eye he found himself staring directly into a pair of grey eyes.

"I can't believe you fell asleep out here!" those eyes said cheerfully, the hair shaking with laughter. "Those beasts use this area for their toilet, don't you know that? That is completely foul, Potter."

Harry blinked, and Malfoy's face came into sharp focus, upside-down above him. Malfoy was crouched over him, and as Harry stared up at him, he gave Harry another good poke in the forehead. "I've always wanted to do that," he said confidentially, and then his finger stayed where it was, resting on Harry's scar.

"What do you want?" Harry growled, still drowsy with sleep and sun, and more than a little alarmed by Malfoy's behaviour. He would have expected a right smart prank while he was sleeping, especially after what he had said just before flying off, and when he had landed in the grass he had tried to stay wary. Eventually, sleep had overtaken him, and Malfoy's sudden appearance brought back the fear of attack.

Malfoy didn't seem to want to attack him, however. Instead, he was tracing Harry's scar with his finger, so gently that Harry barely felt his touch at all. His lips were slightly parted. Harry couldn't remember a time that anybody had ever touched his scar, especially like this.

"I was bored," Malfoy replied, his voice casual despite what he was doing. Harry swatted his hand away, frowning.

"What are you doing?"

Malfoy shrugged. He pulled back, and then dropped next to Harry as Harry pulled himself up, a trifle unsettled. "Professor Snape is gone, and the house is once again safe for little Gryffindors," he said. "It's lunchtime. I brought food. Here." He held out a napkin wrapped bundle to Harry, pulling another out of the pocket of his jacket. When Harry took it, he pulled out two apples and some chocolate, wrapped carefully in another napkin, and spread it out between them on the grass. Harry eyed it and wondered if the Gins really did their business in this area. He picked up a chocolate anyway, and they sat in silence for a while, eating. Malfoy ate his crusts first, turning the sandwich this way and that between his thin fingers until he had nibbled it all off before starting in on the rest. It was roast beef, and Harry supposed that Snape had brought them more food as well as having shown up to be a nuisance. A Gin wandered placidly by, and they both watched it pass.

"I was tracing your scar," Malfoy said without preamble, breaking the comfortable quiet that had fallen between them.

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"You asked what I was doing. I was tracing your scar," Malfoy repeated patiently.

"Well, yeah, but why?"

Malfoy grinned, holding the apple up and squinting at it, examining it closely for bruises. "Because I can. Because I wanted to." His eyes slid over to Harry. His grin widened. "Because you let me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know I can't resist you," he said.

"Not if you tried," Malfoy said smugly, and then paused. The grin faded, and he lowered the apple back into his lap. Harry eyed him closely, hoping that Malfoy hadn't just lulled him into letting his guard down only to beat the hell out of him now. But Malfoy looked more like he was choking on whatever he was going to say than plotting something. When his eyes abruptly squeezed shut, Harry raised a hand to offer comfort, automatically, before remembering that this was Malfoy and what was he doing? He replaced his hand at his side before Malfoy could notice what he had almost done.

Malfoy heaved a deep breath and opened his eyes. He glanced over at Harry again, almost shyly. "Did I ever tell you about my father? Did you ever hear about him? I mean, I suppose you know him. You met him in the bookstore. But ... you don't know him. Not many people do." Harry opened his mouth to comment, but Malfoy flapped a hand at him. "I don't mean the version you've probably heard from Black and that idiot half-giant. I mean ... him. The real man he is. He's a good man." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Good men don't give possessed diaries to eleven year old girls."

Malfoy flushed, and drew his knees up to his chest. "I don't know anything about that. And you're being annoying, you know. I'm trying to talk to you, and there you go, flapping your jaws away as though you've got an answer to everything I'm going to say. Shut up for a minute, alright Potter? I thought you liked having these little heart-to-hearts with me."

Harry considered that sceptically. "Didn't we just spend the last couple weeks avoiding anything having to do with hearts or feelings?"

Malfoy raised a delicate eyebrow at him. "Well, yes. But I didn't think you were observant enough to realize that."

Harry shrugged, and returned his attention to his sandwich. He wouldn't know subtlety if it blew fire out of its rear and tried to eat him, he'd be willing to admit if he'd ever thought about it, but he knew that Malfoy was just dancing circles around whatever he wanted to say to Harry.

"My father and I plan trips," Malfoy said. Harry looked over at him, and was startled to see Malfoy smiling, his anxiety vanished. Malfoy's eyes flicked over to him, and his smile widened. "It's silly, I know. But whenever I see him, whenever I go home on holiday, we talk about all the places we'll go, the things we'll buy, the food we'll eat, all over the world. This ... this time, before what happened, we were going to go to Borneo. There are these caves there, and you can live in a hotel that's built in the treetops, like a savage. We sat in the gardens and talked for hours." He leaned in close to Harry, and whispered conspiratorially, "There are orang-utan in Borneo. You can go hunting for them."

Harry frowned. "I thought orang-utans were endangered or something." Malfoy hit him on the shoulder.

"Not to kill them, you idiot. Just to see them. They're very rare." The Gin had wandered back towards them, and bumped its head against Malfoy's face. Malfoy patted it distractedly, and it mooed with pleasure, a tendril of smoke curling out of its nostrils. Harry fought back a giggle, feeling as though he had landed on another planet. Lucius Malfoy, a nature lover, wanting to see orang-utans? Maybe, Harry thought, if he wanted to chop the babies into little pieces and feed them to Voldemort. He tried to think of a reasonable way to explain this to Malfoy and came up short. "My father ... he's an important man. And he has very high standards for me, so ... I understand that he doesn't have much time to coddle me. And besides," Malfoy said, his grin crooked. "That's just not who he is. But he wants to travel with me, spend time with me. So he must ..." Malfoy trailed off, looking confused. Harry picked a blade of grass and held it out to the Gin.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked. Malfoy sighed. The Gin lipped Harry's fingers carefully, catching the blade of grass along its scratchy tongue, and ambled closer for more treats. Harry offered it his apple.

"Because you're a right bastard, Potter."

Harry burst out laughing, startled. He squinted at Malfoy and waited for more. Malfoy cocked his head, rolling his eyes.

"I'm telling you this, Potter ... I'm telling you all of this because you're not who I thought you were. Perfect Potter ... I don't think that's who you are. But that's alright. Maybe I like you better this way. So if you're up for another heart-to-heart, I want to tell you something. But I wanted to make sure that you understood first, who my dad is." Harry nodded. Malfoy shifted uncomfortably from side to side. "Just because you hate him doesn't mean that he's a bad person. And ... and I don't know how to say it!" he burst out suddenly, his voice desperate. "I can't tell you, I can't say it without choking on the words. My dad's a good person and what I want to say ... what I think ... they're terrible things. And that makes me a terrible person." He paused, staring Harry full in the face. "But since you're not perfect, since you're not who I thought you were ... maybe you'll understand that I have to say it anyway."

Malfoy's fingers dug furrows in the long grass beneath them, and Harry watched Malfoy's face carefully. He had been getting better at reading Malfoy's expressions, after the month that they had been forced to live together, but was taken aback at the look in the other boy's eyes. His face was flushed, high spots of colour flaring above his cheekbones. He looked back and forth between Harry and the Gin, standing patiently in front of them. His chest heaved deep, desperate breaths.

"It was my dad who cast the spell on me."

Malfoy's face jerked up towards the sky at the same moment that his eyes closed.

"My ... father was the one who held me down, and forced his wand into my mouth after the other Death Eaters had ... had hit me until I could barely move. It was him."

Malfoy leapt to his feet, his fists clenched. The Gin, startled, wheeled away and disappeared into the long grass. Malfoy watched it go, and then turned back to Harry, looking down at him as if embarrassed for his outburst. "How could I say something like that about my own father?" he asked. "He loves me! But how ... how could he ..."

They stared silently at each other for a long moment, and the wind blew Malfoy's hair across his face in a fine spray of colour. Slowly, Malfoy sat back down, bringing his knees back up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them tightly.

Harry lifted his hand, and stared at it. Considered. And then laid it gingerly across Malfoy's shoulders, giving him a brief pat. Malfoy huffed quietly, but didn't pull away; Harry could almost imagine Malfoy's shoulders relaxing, just a little bit.

"I want to kill Voldemort," he told Malfoy. "Not just because he's my enemy or whatever, or because of the bad things that he's done ... I want him dead and I want to be the one who does it. I think ..." He stopped, and flushed. "I've never told this to anyone. But I used to think about killing the Dursleys too - they're the Muggles that I live with. Just ... lighting their house on fire or something. Because sometimes they deserve it. Or at least I used to think that they did, I guess." He worried at his lower lip, painfully aware of Malfoy's thin body against his arm, the heat leaking through the arm of his jumper. But it didn't feel strange anymore, to be ... comforting Malfoy. To be talking to him. "I used to think you were a bad person." Malfoy stirred against him. "I don't think that anymore," he added lamely. "I just mean that ... I don't think saying that stuff makes you a bad person."

Malfoy was quiet for a long moment. Then, so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear it, "Thanks."

Harry watched the rise and fall of Malfoy's chest as he breathed, and when he sighed and leaned his head against Harry's shoulder, Harry decided that maybe that was all right.

Sirius was Ported a half mile away from the Farmhouse, and each step he took closer to his Remus built the excitement in his chest until he knew that his heart would simply explode and run like melted wax down his body if he did not get home that very instant. He shifted to Padfoot for the dog's superior speed, and ran under the moonlight, the fields that flew underneath his feet illuminated by the waxing moon, nearly full, that hung over his head. As he got closer, he could smell wood smoke, the flatulence of the Dingwall Gins, and as he passed through the barriers that protected Remus' house, the faint odour of roast chicken, two slightly unwashed teenage boys, and the faint, dry scent of Remus.

Sirius slipped quietly into the house, shifting out of Padfoot's body as his paws hit the entryway floor. He shut the door behind him softly, snuffling a bit to catch the scent of food. Definitely roast chicken. He briefly considered rooting around in the fridge to see if there were any leftovers - he hadn't eaten since late morning - but his stomach was overruled without a second thought. Food could certainly wait for later.

He moved through the living room and up the stairs noiselessly, and was utterly astonished to discover that a light was still on. It cut a wide swatch across the hallway from the door on the right, Harry's room, which hadn't been visible from the front of the house. The crack betrayed voices as well; it was godawful o'clock in the morning, and the boys were still awake. Sirius rolled his eyes, creeping close.

" - just wanted to see it! Honestly, Potter. If I wanted to get you in trouble, I wouldn't have been breaking curfew to do it, I would have simply told on you."

"Come off it." Laughter. Sirius frowned. "You're just embarrassed that you got caught."

The hell? Sirius thought. He leaned in close to the door, feeling a bit foolish, his head cocked. There was a soft crinkling sound - after decades of knowing Remus, Sirius would know the sound of a chocolate wrapper anywhere. "Ha, I was right. You're blushing."

"I don't blush!" came the reply, a haughty sniff. Sirius craned his neck forward, and through the open crack saw Harry sitting cross-legged on his bed, dividing up a chocolate bar in his lap. He was grinning as he passed a section of it beyond Sirius' viewpoint, to Malfoy, obviously.

"Well, maybe not blush. But you go all pink when you're embarrassed. Right up here," Harry said, and gestured at his cheekbones, nearly smearing chocolate against his face.

"I'll have you know that you blush like a plebe, your entire face turns this awful shade of red."

Sirius knocked lightly on the door, and it swung open under his knuckles. The two boys sat facing each other on their separate beds; Malfoy had one leg curled underneath his body, leaning back on his uninjured hand. Harry was leaning forward towards him. They both jumped when the door opened, and Harry jumped to his feet. "Sirius!" he exclaimed, and Sirius was pleased to see that he looked positively overjoyed to see him. "Did you just get back?"

Sirius nodded. He and Malfoy frowned at each other, and then Sirius pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. "What're you doing, standing over there?" he asked. "I think you grew a foot while I was away, you know that?" Harry very nearly giggled. "Does Remus know that you two are still awake?" Harry and Malfoy exchanged a near conspiratorial glance.

"No," Harry admitted. "He went to bed a while ago."

"Right," Sirius said in his best godfather-voice, "Off to sleep with you, then. How about a game of Quodpot in the morning, eh? I bet we could charm some rocks for the exploding bit." Harry nodded, still grinning, and Sirius released him. He ignored the urge to wag a finger at them and throw in a threat of bodily harm if they didn't get to bed. They launched immediately back into conversation when he closed their door behind him. Sirius smiled into the darkness of the hallway, a hand still braced on the doorframe, knowing full well that they'd be up for hours yet.

The door clicked quietly as it shut behind him. Their room - or was it just Remus' room? - didn't face the moonlight, which was a small relief. The room was blanketed in shadows, but Sirius still had enough light to see his Moony by.

Remus lay sprawled across the bed, his lanky body curved gently into a bow. His arms were flung above his hand, his legs twisted. He was bare-chested, clad only in a pair of loose cotton pyjama bottoms, and Sirius watched the rise and fall of Remus' torso as he took stock, by long habit, of the scars that were littered across the pale expanse of skin. The arms, covered by circular marks, mainly old bites. Thinner marks by the wrists, on the hands. Two perfectly parallel marks that ran down the side of Remus' neck, ending abruptly at the collarbone. The scars on his face, given to him by Sirius himself, only months before Wormtail had betrayed them all.

And of course, the Mark from the werewolf that had bitten him when he was a small boy; lighter, older than the others, starting right above the left hipbone and spreading across his stomach in patches, continuing up the left arm all the way to the shoulder. Remus had told him about it once, after an ill-advised night of school-age drinking. The story had been gory, but the pale scattering of scars bothered Sirius no more than the others, and hadn't for years. He tilted his head. No new scars, of course; he had at least two days on the full moon. It was good to just ... make sure, though. He settled himself carefully on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots with as little motion as he could. Remus snorted in his sleep and turned over, away from Sirius. Sirius grinned.

Remus' shoulders were narrow and sloped inwards slightly, from years of poor nutrition, Sirius guessed. He saw it in himself, and what little he could recall of Moony's eating habits once they'd graduated probably didn't bode well for the years in between, years that Sirius knew very little about.

He curled himself around Remus' form carefully, already feeling muscles that would be sore in the morning from his run. Remus stirred as Sirius draped an arm around him, snuffling softly. "Mmm. Sirius."

"Hi there, gorgeous," Sirius said softly.

"Hello yourself," Remus replied. Sirius could hear the smile in his voice.

"Sorry to have woken you."

"No, no. When did you get back?" Remus shifted slowly in Sirius' arms, scooting around until he was facing Sirius. He smiled vaguely, his eyes still fogged with sleep.

"Just now," Sirius said. "I noticed that Harry and, uh, Draco seem to be ... getting along better."

Remus' smile broadened. "We've survived. I take it they're still awake?"

"And chatting like old friends," Sirius replied glumly.

Remus sighed happily. "Finally. I can't tell you what a relief that is, having them finally on speaking terms. I thought I'd have to deal with fistfights every day for the next few months."

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Sirius'. Sirius grinned and brought a hand up to Remus' jaw, pulling him close for a thorough, humid kiss. "It's probably good for Harry," Remus said thoughtfully when Sirius pulled away, as though there had been no lapse in speaking. Sirius rolled his eyes. "It does him good to be distracted from worrying about Voldemort, or Cedric Diggory's death, at least."

Sirius grunted. "He does seem to have a bit of a 'saving people' thing, doesn't he?" He ran the back of his hand across Remus' cheek, smiling slightly when Remus closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. Their feet tangled together, and Sirius breathed Remus' scent in gratefully, happy to be back with his Moony.

Remus laughed hoarsely, wrapping an arm around Sirius' waist. "That's an interesting way to put it. So, how was your spying expedition? Any news?"

"Mmm," Sirius said, pushing his face into the crook of Remus' neck, nuzzling at his skin. "Well, a lot of nothing on my assignment. Absolutely no trace of anybody in old haunts. But Arthur called in some favors at the Ministry, and found out that Lucius Malfoy was doing some intensive research on spells from the Dark Ages a few weeks back, so that gives us an interesting lead on what was done to his kid. Kingsley's leading a hunt for me in Iceland now. Hagrid and Moody have finally returned from their missions. But I haven't seen you for two weeks, do you really want to talk about current events?" Remus drew him forward in response, pressing his entire body against Sirius, scattering open-mouthed kisses across his neck and up, nipping at bit at his lips. He moved slowly against Sirius, his hands pushing Sirius' shirt up to rake his nails down the skin underneath.

"I did miss you, you know," he breathed. Sirius laughed, and pulled back a bit, crinkling his nose as he shared Remus' smile. He leaned back in to rub his nose against Remus' nose, happiness bubbling up and over inside his chest. I'll never lose you again. I promise.

"Are you sick, Moony?" he asked, after a moment. He could tell by the way that Remus stiffened against him that the answer was 'yes.'

"No," Remus said warily.

"Your breathing sounds funny," Sirius explained, and frowned when Remus shifted backwards a bit, lowering his jaw mulishly.

"Sirius, I'm fine. And right now, there are more pressing things to think about, such as why you still have your clothes on."

Sirius blinked, and weighed his options: pursue Remus about a subject that he was mysteriously testy about, or get naked? He shrugged, supposed that the outcome had never been in doubt, and got naked as quickly as humanly possible. He had plenty of time to bother Remus about it later, after all, and his time right now would be much better spent doing ... oh, yes, that.

"Mmmm," Remus breathed. "Much better."