Careless Whisper

Sirius doesn't know when things changed between them, but he knows the lingering suspicion he has about Remus' loyalty is breaking his heart. At night, they try not to touch when they climb into bed, each facing the opposite direction. They know the other is laying awake, thinking about a war they never asked to be a part of. And the spy.... The traitor among them.... Neither voices their opinions for doubts of the truth being revealed.

Tonight, Sirius only pretends to sleep, shifting slightly when Remus sits up in bed. He runs his hands through his hair before holding his head in his hands for a long moment. Sirius watches the man from the corner of his eye, feeling like his lifeline has been cut when Remus stands and stumbles to the door in the dark. He knows Remus can tell he's awake from the way he sighs, and he can feel the man' s intense gaze on him as he looks back, just once, before striding into the hall and down the stairs.

Sirius waits until he hears the cabinet doors in the kitchen banging closed and the faint clatter of china as Remus fixes himself a nightcap before he too climbs from bed. Sirius makes a noise of disgust at the early hour when he glances at the clock and grabs the pack of fags beside it and lights one up, trying not to think about how much Remus hates them. With a glance at the almost-full moon outside, he feels a foreign emotion he can't quite name wash over him. He takes a drag on the cigarette and stares out at the night sky, finding his namesake, and sending up a prayer to whatever heathen god would chose to show mercy on him, wishing he could wake from this terrible dream.

*******

They don't "make love" anymore, Sirius concedes, and he wonders when something so beautifully intimate had become just "a quick fuck." He can almost feel Remus' desperate need for them to be one as he thrusts against Sirius, his breathing quick and ragged. Sirius leans forward to kiss him and moans when Remus arches into him and comes, himself not far behind.

He smiles down at the brown-haired and mutters a quick cleaning spell before pulling away. The werewolf bites his lower lip to keep from moaning at the loss and Sirius fights a new wave of desire as it flares to life. He gently brushes a strand of hair from Remus' eyes, muttering a soft "I love you."

Something passes over Remus' face, but the man steels himself and stares at Sirius with accusing eyes.

"Do you?" he says hoarsely, waiting for an answer.

Sirius hesitates for a moment too long, feeling as if someone has punched him in the stomach when a hurt expression flutters across Remus' face and he turns on his side, his back to the darker man. Sirius flops down next to him, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the anger emanating from the man beside him. When he thinks Remus has finally drifted off to sleep, Sirius turns and scoots closer to him and wraps an arm around his waist.

"I always mean it, Moony," he says softly against Remus' shoulder. He starts when the man turns and takes Sirius' hand in his own, burying his face somewhere near Sirius' chest. He can't ignore the wetness against his skin and pulls his hand away to gently wipe the tears from Remus' cheeks.

"Moony, I'm sorry," he says and kisses his lover's forehead. "I do love you, honestly."

"Then why don't you show it anymore?" Remus says almost too quietly for Sirius to hear and it cuts the dark-haired man to the quick.

Sirius sighs and pulls Remus close. "Sorry, things have just been...busy...since.... But you--" He stops himself from saying something he's sure he'll regret and smiles at Remus in the soft light spilling in from the waning moon outside. "I said I meant it and I do. And I always will."

Remus half-smiles back at him and Sirius knows the man doesn't believe him anymore. Remus sighs and leans in for a kiss, pulling away too soon for both their likings. "Love you, too."

Sirius holds him close and tries to sleep but finds he can't.

******

They've both said too much and both know it. Sirius glares at Remus from the doorway and the shorter man stares back at him from across the room, one hand gripping the back of a kitchen chair with white knuckles. Remus looks away first and stalks past Sirius and towards the den. Sirius can feel him shaking with anger as he brushes past and he stops Remus with a hand on his shoulder.

Remus shrugs the hand off and turns, his arms crossed and amber eyes burning with a fierce, feral light. "What?"

"God, Remus, I'm sorry," Sirius says, unable to stand seeing his lover this way. He watches as Remus shifts his weight from foot to foot, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you?" Remus finally says, his voice shaking.

Sirius steps closer and embraces the man. "Yes." He sighs when Remus wraps his arms around him. "Are we alright?"

Remus hesitates before answering. "Of course."

Sirius sighs again and rubs Remus' back; he can still feel him shaking. "I really am sorry, love."

"Me too," Remus whispers and holds Sirius a little tighter.

******
"Full moon tonight," Sirius says as he strides into their tiny bathroom. "Peter's busy and James has work to do with Moody, so it looks like it's--"

He stops mid-sentence when he looks up at Remus as the man slowly wraps a towel around his waist. The mid-morning sunlight spilling through the open window kisses the werewolf's skin, highlighting the gold in his hair and the supple curve of his jaw as he turns to face Sirius. Remus smiles and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around Sirius' neck and kissing him slowly.

"See something you like?" Remus says, his voice husky with lust.

Sirius can't say anything, he just moans as the brown-haired man slips a hand past the waistband of his worn pyjama bottoms. He feels as if blood coursing through his veins has been replaced with liquid desire as Remus smiles into the kiss and slowly pulls down the pyjamas. Sirius kicks the offending trousers away as Remus' fingers leave fiery trails in their wake; with a moan, Sirius pulls the towel from Remus' waist, aching for the feel of skin against skin.

Somehow, they end up back in the bedroom, bodies moving in tandem on the still unmade bed. As Remus straddles him, one hand clasped in his own, Sirius forgets his doubts, allowing his suspicion to give way to familiar unbridled desire as Remus takes him.

******

"Where's Moony?" James says as soon as he collects himself and brushes stray Floo Powder and soot from his trousers.

Sirius doesn't look up from that morning's Prophet as James plops down onto the couch next to him. "Dumbledore wanted him to do something for him."

James' brow furrows and he frowns before snatching the newspaper from his friend. "Something's up--you're never this quiet. What's wrong?"

Sirius sighs and runs a hand through his hair. With a sorrowful look he says, "I don't think I can do it, Prongs."

James narrows his eyes. "And why the bloody hell not? You know there's no one I'd rather trust our lives with. What's the reason for this sudden change of heart?"

"I think Remus is the spy," Sirius says quietly, as if he doesn't believe what he's saying.

James doesn't answer for a long moment. "That's it. You've finally lost your mind. Remus can't be the spy."

"What about the Imperius Curse?" Sirius says, his voice cracking slightly. "Dumbledore sends him on all these fucking missions with the werewolves--there's plenty of time for someone to try something and..."

"Padfoot, you're being an idiot," James says, his voice betraying his true feelings. "He's your boyfriend for Christ's sake. Accusing him, of all people, of being a traitor is worse than saying it's Peter that's the spy."

Sirius winces, draws his knees up to his chest, and rests his forehead on them. "I know, but I still think I shouldn't be your Secret Keeper." He turns his head and cautiously meets James' eye.

"Fine," James says after a tense moment. "I'll tell Peter, but you're telling Remus about this yourself."

Sirius starts to protest but James stops him with a clap on the shoulder and changes the subject.

"You look like shit, mate."

"Yeah, well, I feel like shit," Sirius says and sighs. "Now be a good friend and go get that bottle of Firewhiskey from the kitchen.

James stares a Sirius questioningly for a long moment, not knowing what to say, before climbing to his feet and fetching the alcohol.

******

Standing in the ruined rubble of the house and trying to soothe his crying godson, Sirius feels strangely numb. He dabs at the cut on Harry's forehead, muttering a hasty spell he hopes will help. Stepping over Lily's body, he fights the bile that rises in his throat, and walks back to the motorcycle abandoned by the old oak tree in the yard.

He tilts the bike away from the tree, wincing as the bark scratches at the paint. Awkwardly, he straddles the bike, cradling Harry and ready to rev the engine, but stops as he notices a tall figure running towards him.

"He's my godson, Hagrid," Sirius says before Hagrid can, suddenly aware of the hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

Hagrid pats his back and Sirius struggles to keep from tumbling over the handlebars.

"Dumbledore thinks it's best if the lad goes ter stay with Lily's family until everything settles down," Hagrid says, swallowing hard as he glances at the Dark Mark hovering above the ruined house.

The half-giant continues to try to soothe him, but Sirius drowns him out. He just slowly looks up at the man, his jaw set and eyes dark against his flushed skin. Anger suddenly burns inside him with a flame darker than his name. Resolved, he gently kisses the top of his godson's head and stares lovingly down at the baby.

"I love you, Harry," he says quietly. "And your mum and dad do too."

Harry babbles something back and Sirius smiles before he climbs off the motorcycle. Passing Harry to Hagrid, he says, "Take the bike. I won't be needing it."

Hagrid starts to protest, but Sirius stops him.

"Take it Remus when you're through. He'll know what to do with it."

With one last look at the destroyed and smouldering remnants of his friends' lives, he turns on his heel and Apparates.

******

The cell floor he lays on is cold against his skin. The moonlight spills through the small window, elongating the bars' shadows that fall across Sirius' face. He lies prostrate in a poor imitation of the Vitruvian Man, watching the moon rise.

As the opal-like orb reaches its zenith in the starry sky, he draws in a shuddering breath before changing into Padfoot. The dog curls into a tight ball and tries to sleep, his fitfull dreams filled with lightning shaped cuts and hurt amber eyes.