The Deafening Silence

We wake in each other's arms in the morning light. I wake first - I am so used to sleeping alone, it is strange to have the changed weight of Sirius's body at last against mine. I open my eyes and see the sleeping face, the troubled countenance, with its cheek pressed to my chest. His arms are around my torso, and mine further encircle him.

I don't know how long I watch him, but soon his eyes open, and he looks at me with the morning's innocence entwined in the silver. He doesn't move from my chest; neither of us say a word. It is as if an understanding passes between us about the previous night, the comfort that we offer each other by our mere presence, the longing we have for that which we once shared.

And oh-so-slowly he moves up as I move down, and our lips meet in the gentlest of kisses - a pure, chaste kiss. Just two lips and two souls meeting after such a long absence. And I am lost in the gentle, blossoming kisses that we share, that slowly grow in intensity until I'm not sure I can breathe, and not sure that I ever want to. This is how I want to die - death upon Sirius's lips.

Finally, we stop, and pull back a little, and just look at each other. I smile faintly, but he does not return the expression. His face and mouth are all solemn and grave, and his eyes are searching. I want him to find what he seeks in me, but this is not the time.

"Good morning," I whisper, brushing the hair out of his face.

"Thank you," he replies, and I know he is thanking me for the previous night.

"'S nothing," I murmur. Silence, as we simply gaze at each other after so long, gold meeting silver. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah..."

"Then I'll fix breakfast. You go take a shower." I grin as I say this, and he finally smiles back at me. "Because you need one," I add playfully.

"Oh, fine," he says, pretending to be wounded, and something inside of me lights up because this joking is definitely of the old Sirius.

I roll out of bed rather eagerly - there is a purpose to my movement that I have lacked for nearly fifteen years. First I pull on a t-shirt, then I take a robe out of the closet, one of my largest, thinking it will be long enough for Sirius to wear.

He guesses my thoughts. "You think I can wear that, Moony?"

My old nickname - Moony. My heart is lighter than it has been in years. "Perhaps...you have lost a good deal of weight..."

"But I'm still taller than you."

"Well, we'll have to get you some new robes, then, won't we?" I smile at him. "For now, though, you'll have to wear this, because your current robe is disgusting. I'll clean it."

He leans back against the pillow and laughs, and although it is a very brief laugh, I feel like it is genuine. That, too, warms my heart. My Sirius is back, I am caring for him, I have kissed him good-morning and I am cooking him breakfast. All is right with my world.

When he comes downstairs, I have just finished the coffee. I can smell my shampoo over Sirius's natural scent, and it is oddly pleasing, as though it is something of myself and him combined. "Don't say a word," I hear him call warningly, before he enters the kitchen.

It is the robe that is embarrassing him now - although it fits him well enough in most places, it is several inches too short in the hem and sleeves. I bite back a laugh and draw out my wand, murmuring a lengthening spell over the fabric until it fits him better. When I stand, we are so close...and he brushes the fingers of one hand against my cheek, and I turn my face to nuzzle into the hand slightly. I see the half-smile play across his lips (lips that I have kissed this morning!) before he turns his attention to breakfast.

Over toast and jam, eggs and bacon, and of course coffee, which he still drinks black, we discuss different subjects. We seem to have a knack for long, half-awkward silences.

"Where did you get the house, Remus? You've been here since last year, right?"

"Right... it was my parents' house."

"They let you use it? Your father?" It is a valid question - although I got on well enough with my mother, my father had always feared me, detested me somehow for being a lycanthrope. As if I were not really his son any longer after I was bitten.

I cast my eyes to my plate. "My parents passed away six years ago."

His face crumples sorrowfully. "Oh, Remus - I'm sorry--"

"No, it's...well, it was quick. Accident on vacation in Rome."

"I should have been here for you."

"How, pray tell, would you have managed that?"

We stop again, the conversation halted. Then Sirius repeats, "I should have been here for you. You shouldn't have gone through that alone."

And before I ask how he knows I was alone, I simply know that he knows. We have always had that sense about each other.

"It's over," I murmur, pushing the eggs around my plate with my fork.

He takes the hint and drops that line of conversation, taking up another venue. This is a change - the old Sirius would never have taken any hint, he would simply have barreled along the current path until we had faced what was bothering us. I wonder what else has changed about him in the years we have been apart. But I'm not sure how to ask.

So we talk about other things. "Do you still have Buckbeak?" I ask. Actually, I am rather curious as to where the hippogriff has gone, since Sirius arrived at my house on foot.

"I asked Dumbledore about it, and he said that if I just let Buckbeak loose near the forest, he would be able to find a herd of hippogriffs and join them." Sirius shrugs somewhat nonchalantly. "He was a fine animal, just picky. All the hiding wasn't suiting him."

I nod. "And did the hiding suit Padfoot?" I ask playfully, hoping he will play along. It's been a long time since I smiled with someone.

He does like the joke. "Padfoot was well pleased with all the garbage to nose through and all the mud to roll around in. Sirius, on the other hand, much prefers surroundings such as this."

"Well, then, I'm pleased."

"Thank you again for letting me stay."

This time my smile is a little more meaningful. "Sirius, it's nothing. I'm glad to have you here." I debate whether or not to say anything else, then choose to add, "I've missed you."

Another correct choice, as he replies, "I've missed you too, Remus." And we smile at each other, and again we don't need any words. We sit in the pleasant silence, until he asks tentatively, "Remus? Do you know... I mean... How are my parents?"

I bite my lip. I don't want to upset him, but I want to tell him the truth of what little I know. "They were fine the last time I spoke to them... I haven't seen them much since...well, you know."

Keldon and Sidonie Black had avoided me at all costs. I was sure I was merely a painful reminder of their oldest son's failings and sins. The last time I had spoken to them, per se, was after Sirius's sentencing. I had bumped into them upon exiting the courtroom. Keldon hadn't spoken - he was never sure he liked the fact that his son was gay, and that he had taken a werewolf as a lover to boot. Now I was certainly connected to his moral downfall. But Sidonie had put a motherly hand on my cheek, tears falling down her own face. "Oh, Remus..." she had breathed, but didn't say anything else. I nodded, and we walked away in opposite directions.

I had, however, kept a few tabs on them. Both of his parents were still alive, I knew, as were his siblings. Sirius had been the middle child of three. His older sister Sariah had married nine years ago. Sebasten, the youngest son, worked for the Ministry now.

"They're both alive. Sariah married about six years after you were gone." I don't want to say 'after you were sent to prison;' that seems a bit harsh. "Sebasten works for the Ministry. Department of Foreign Affairs and Whatnots, I think."

"Ministry, huh? Good for him," Sirius says weakly. I'm not sure what he wanted to hear, but this seems to be enough for him. I pray he does not ask about whether I spoke to them after the trial. I want to forget about it all. It dominated my thoughts and haunted my dreams for so long, I just want to enjoy Sirius right now, now that I have him back. "And Sariah's married?" he goes on.

"Yes, to an Italian fellow. I saw it in the paper. They made a nice-looking couple."

"Well..."

The conversation slows again, and we both eat in silence for a moment. When we were younger, Sirius could never be silent. If I was reading, or studying, or simply enjoying the absence of noise, he had to do something to remedy that. Not that I minded much. In fact, when he was gone, I missed it. The silence became nearly deafening for twelve years. It was so good to hear his voice again.

"What do you want to do?" I ask him as I take my dishes to the sink.

"Sit on furniture," he replies immediately. "I've been living in a cave for two years, I'm going to drop my arse on a sofa."

He says this with such solemnity that I can't help laughing. "What?" he asks, half-innocently, half-wryly. "It's the truth."

I go back to the table and reach for his plate, asking, "Done?" He nods. "D'you want more?" He shakes his head. "More coffee, then."

He smiles a little, and says, "Yeah, thanks." I knew he would want more - he drank coffee faithfully every morning when we were together. He used to say that there were two things in life he needed to survive: coffee, and me. I wonder if he remembers that he used to say that.

"Go on, I'll take care of the washing up."

He takes the coffee and enters the living room, sitting down slowly on the corner of my aging couch. I am using my wand to direct the dishes to cleaning themselves in the sink, but out of the corner of my eye I am watching him. He sits down slowly, closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again and tucks his feet beneath him. He looks so much smaller than I remembered.

The morning passes quickly. Sirius is content to sit in the living room, drinking coffee - I suspect he needs the rest more than he lets on. I know he must be tired; he certainly did not sleep well the night before. I take a shower, dress, and join him in the living room, where he has finished with the coffee.

And, surprisingly, or perhaps not so, we stay there all day. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we are silent. Gradually we move closer - I reach for his hand, he leans his head against my shoulder. We move from sitting side-by-side to lying on the couch. I am turned sideways, with my back to the arm. He fits between my legs, lying with his head on my chest. It is the happiest I have been - the happiest I suspect either of us have been - in many, many years.