A Life More Ordinary

Corbières, France, 21 June 1993

It took Remus a moment to realize he was the one groaning.

"Hangover potion will work a treat for that headache."

Remus squinted, but it was too dark to see Carad's face.

"Where are we?" he whispered, but even the soft question thundered against his temples. He groaned again, which only made it worse.

A small lamp came to life. "France."

The news was more unwelcome than the headache; the nausea as well, he realized as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Why?" he croaked.

"You were beginning to frighten the cats," Carad grunted from somewhere off to Remus' left. He rolled as much as his leaden muscles would allow, gave up sitting fully and fell back against the pillow.

"What day is it?"

"Monday."

Remus tried to sort that out, but he had no idea what day it should have been. Fuck, he was going to sick up. Gin and sick would look lovely all over the small shack.

"Just take it, Remus," Carad said, and a vile was pushed under Remus' nose. "You can figure out another way to punish yourself."

Remus blinked at his friend, but he was either too drunk or too hung-over to understand what he meant. "How long have I been...?"

"You've been drinking for the better part of the past four days, just take the damn potion."

With shaky hands, Remus did. He forced the tide of sick down his throat and tried twice to swallow the slimy potion, finally gave up and dropped his hand. The glass shattering against the floor sounded like an explosion.

Remus moaned and covered his head with his hands, trying to blot out all the sensory assaults.

"Christ..." Carad grabbed his arm, and it took all Remus had to pull it away.

"Go away," he breathed, doubled over now as the nausea continued to assault him. Ignoring him, Carad put another vial to his lips. "No..." Remus batted the helpful hands away. "Just go away."

"Not until you take the potion," Carad said tightly, "then I'll be more than pleased to. If you want, I'll shove it down your bloody throat."

Remus abruptly stopped rocking to stare at his friend. Now that his eyes had had time to adjust to the light, he could see the anger in the normally placid eyes. The proper response eluded him. "What?" Even through the haze of days' worth of alcohol, he knew he sounded like an idiot.

Carad's scarred lip curled. "The potion," he repeated sourly. "It wouldn't do to have you falling over something and breaking your neck."

"I'll be fine," Remus mumbled, confused by the sarcasm. More confused by the way his voice seemed to be echoing in his head.

"You were nearly murdered yesterday evening."

"I... was?"

"Minions of You Know Who don't like to be threatened at wandpoint; even former ones."

Remus shook his head slowly, but the memories wouldn't present themselves. At least not those memories. His eyes were glued to the fireplace. He could see dried blood on the stones.

Sirius' blood.

"You don't remember?"

Remus didn't answer, undecided if he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep or summon a bottle of whatever was in this godforsaken hole.

The vial was hovering near his chin again. Remus shoved it away once more and lurched forward, managing to catch the edge of the mattress and pull himself up until he was more or less sitting.

"Accio..." He paused, with his hand poised in mid-air. He wasn't exactly certain that there was any alcohol here. He spent only one night here every month, always out as fast as his body would allow. There wasn't a reason to keep much in the way of food in the cupboards. Though of course, he'd lived here for years before...

He set his teeth and refused to finish that thought. If this shack was going to be his home from now on, might as well get reacquainted.

"What are you doing?"

Remus shoved past his burly friend. "I'm parched," he said loudly. He stumbled twice before he made it into the tiny kitchen and then couldn't think where he might have once kept the alcohol... wine... he used to buy the local wine.

"For God's sake, you'll kill yourself if you go on this way."

"If only I would be so lucky," Remus muttered as he yanked open one of the cupboards.

And before he could even look inside, the door was slammed shut, nearly catching Remus' nose.

"You are pathetic."

Remus turned too quickly and had to swallow another mouthful of bile. Carad was still standing near the bed; he didn't even have his wand out. "What?"

"Pathetic, Remus," Carad spat. "I'm certain you know the meaning."

Remus curled his fingers around the nearest counter as Carad's meaning--along with the reason for his scowl--seeped into his soggy brain. With great effort, he found the words, "You can't understand--"

"I can't?" Carad's face contorted until the old scars took over his features. "My wife left me after this happened." He dug his fingernails into the twisted scars, scraping down the length of his neck while the acid boiled in Remus' stomach. "She took my daughter from me. And you," he went on harshly, "you left your family voluntarily!"

Remus shook his head, sending waves of pain down his cheekbones and through his jaw. "I didn't have a choice--"

"No," Carad said, his voice very soft now. "I didn't have a choice. Jane didn't give me a choice. And if I remember correctly, Sirius didn't secret your kid away in the middle of the night."

Remus' sinuses were burning now. He didn't want to think about Harry. And Carad had no right to remind him of things he couldn't allow himself to remember. He turned away and resumed his search, found a dusty bottle of dark wine in the lower cupboard. His mumbled spell took care of the cork with a loud pop.

"You are the only werewolf I know who is married," Carad said to his back, "and yet you don't seem to understand how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" Remus demanded, slamming the cupboard himself this time. The cascading pain that lanced through his head only stoked his anger. "So lucky to have mauled my husband."

"That's a lovely excuse," Carad said softly; mockingly. "You're a coward, Remus, that's what you are. And it isn't any wonder Sirius hasn't come after you."

Remus spun around, nearly unbalancing himself and the bottle of wine. "Fuck you, Carad," he said so softly, he wasn't actually certain he'd said it.

The scars pulsed again. "Enjoy your solitude," Carad said through a thin smile and then without another word, he was gone.

Remus stared at the empty space where his friend had been while his insides burned with guilt and shame.

Coward.

The word reverberated through his skull, outdoing the headache and the tingling numbness spreading to his fingers. Of course he was a coward. He'd always been a coward.

What other way was there to describe a man who had left his family? Even if it had been to protect them. To keep them from this monster that lurked inside him. Except that now, it didn't simply lurk. He was the monster. One far worse than the wolf.

The blood mocked him from the fireplace and before he had decided to do it, he stumbled toward the stones. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, his breath hitching as he heard Padfoot's whine in his head, the sound echoing deeper than Carad's words.

He had broken Sirius' jaw. The bruise...

Just a little harder and Sirius would probably be dead.

And then what would Harry have done?

At least this way... now, they were safe.

His throat jerked with another silent sob as he slid down the stones, coming to rest with a painful jolt on the hearth.

Too much pain. Too many thoughts.

Remus' lifted the bottle of wine to his lips; it felt like fire, nearly choking him as the liquid sped down his throat.

Make it go away, he pleaded, but of course there was no one to hear him.

oOoOo

Sirius kept his arms around Harry until they were both steady and the parlour had fully materialized around them. "All right?"

His eyes scanning the room, Harry nodded.

Sirius set their packs on the sofa and started for the kitchen. "What shall we make for dinner? I'm quite hungry."

But there was no answer. Sirius turned to see Harry going into the library. He reappeared a moment later and without pausing, he went into the small room they'd never quite found a use for off the front door, swiveled round and made for the kitchen.

Sirius followed, watching curiously as Harry ducked into the laundry room and then poked his head out the back door.

"Harry?"

Harry paused, already on his way past Sirius and back into the parlour. "Yeah?"

Sirius cocked his head, caught between amusement and confusion. "What are you doing, kiddo?"

"Looking for Remus."

Sirius' stomach lurched.

"Do you think he's upstairs?" Harry asked, eyes darting in that direction. "It's nearly dinner so he probably isn't sleeping. And if he knew we were coming home today, he would have gone to the market, yeah? He likes to shop in Diagon Alley when it isn't so crowded, so maybe he went there."

Harry's face was expectant, green eyes wide and... there was no other way to describe them... hopeful.

Sirius struggled to keep his expression upright, to keep his face from betrayimg the tangled hurt he'd kept so well at bay for the past few days. Too well, apparently.

"Harry," he began quietly; gently. He reached out and settled his palm against Harry's flushed cheek. "I... don't think Remus is here."

"But..." The green dimmed, but only for a second and then Harry shook his head resolutely. "Dumbledore said he would come home; once he realized how much he missed us. Remus has to miss us."

Though it felt as though his vocal cords had been scrubbed raw, Sirius nodded. "I am sure that he does--"

"But then he has to come home," Harry said firmly. "Even Ollivander said so."

"Harry..."

Harry stared up at him, his face pinched. "He didn't even say goodbye, you know."

"I know..."

Harry's face screwed up, and Sirius tensed as he waited for tears, but Harry swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Could we make lemon treacle?" he asked, his head tilting to the side, expectant in an entirely different way.

It took Sirius several seconds to form a response that wouldn't betray his surprise. "Absolutely... sounds fun," he finally said, smiling a little.

"Yeah." Harry scrubbed a hand over his nose. "I'll go wash up."

Sirius wanted to hug him, but Harry's posture said he wouldn't tolerate that well, so Sirius simply nodded. "I'll find the recipe."

Harry nodded, did something with his lips that was probably meant to be a smile and went upstairs.

Sirius blew out a breath. How had he not realized that Harry would take Albus' words straight to his heart? He had been trying so hard to keep everything as normal as possible.

None of this was normal.

Remus had left them, for God's sake.

Sirius slumped into the nearest chair, crossed his arms on the table and let his head fall. Fuck.

He hadn't allowed himself to think about Remus for days.

He should have been paying better attention to Harry, should have known that Harry needed to talk about this--

A sound like a small explosion; shattering glass and popping metal brought Sirius' head up with a jerk. He shot to his feet, and without even deciding to run, he was taking the stairs three at a time, careening to an abrupt and winded halt just inside Harry's door.

Harry was standing in the middle of his room, staring at the bits of metal and glass gathered around his trainers. Magic crackled in the air.

His chest heaving, Sirius breathed, "Harry..."

Harry lifted his head, staring at him as if surprised to see him there.

Sirius could feel his brows colliding as he took a step cautious step inside the room. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Harry muttered, with a well aimed kick at the largest chunk of metal. Sirius spread his hands in bewilderment.

"What--"

"It was just that stupid train I used to play with." Glass crunched loudly under Harry's foot.

"Train?" Sirius stepped back as Harry brushed by him and stalked over to his bookshelf, yanked his dog-eared copy of Bilius Bottlebee's Famous Flying Raptagon from the third shelf and plunked it on the desk. Sirius stared down at the mess; at the familiar bits of scarlet and black. "The model of the Hogwarts Express?" he asked, crouching down to lift the large piece--which looked like it used to be a smokestack. Tilting his head up to look at Harry he said very quietly, "The one Remus gave you for your sixth birthday?"

Harry didn't answer. He pushed the book aside and pulled out another one. "Never liked it anyway..."

Sirius stood slowly. The air had settled, but he could still feel Harry's distinct magical signature hovering like an angry swarm of bees; it had been many years since Harry's last bout of accidental magic.

He put a tentative hand on Harry' shoulder and his godson deflated; the magic along with it. Sirius gripped his shoulder and with a quick indrawn breath, Harry turned his face into Sirius' chest.

Sirius gathered him close, his heart squeezing painfully as Harry gripped handfuls of his shirt. "Hey now," he whispered, "it's all right."

"No it isn't," Harry said, the words interrupted by hitched breaths. "He didn't even say goodbye."

Harry's chest heaved with soft, silent tears--the worst kind as far as Sirius was concerned, and tears stung his own eyes as he gazed down at his godson... his kid--his son in all but blood, and wished more than anything that he could fix this.

It was a long time before Harry's silence turned to sniffles. Sirius pressed a quick kiss to his hair before he let him step back and led him to the bed, skirting the wreckage. He offered a handkerchief and sat beside Harry, their legs in twin pretzels.

Sirius smoothed Harry's hair while he mopped up most of the tears.

Harry finally spoke once he had squashed the damp handkerchief between his palms. "Why didn't he say goodbye?"

Sirius grimaced, somehow unprepared to answer this question. "I don't know..."

"I thought maybe..." Harry shook his head; the handkerchief was twisted mercilessly. "Dumbledore said..." Harry' chin wobbled. "...and Ollivander."

Sirius sighed. "I know they did," he said quietly, his fingers still combing through Harry's hair. "But neither of them really understands Remus. It's very difficult to explain... and I'm not certain you will understand--"

"I'm not a baby."

Sirius smiled down at him, at the indignant frown on his tear-splotched face. "I don't even understand half of what I am trying to explain to you," he said, squeezing Harry's shoulder and earning himself a set of raised brows.

"Why not?"

"Because it's difficult to put into words, especially when it isn't me who is experiencing these feelings. I don't know that even Remus himself could explain it."

Harry's nose wrinkled as he tried to puzzle that out.

"Remus was bitten when he was a child," Sirius said, finally coming to a compromise with himself. "Which means that he grew up seeing himself as a werewolf and only a werewolf; defining himself that way." He paused, thinking how best to explain. "Much like Draco defines himself as a pureblood, and Hermione as clever. And many of the things they say and do are centered round those things, does that make sense?"

Harry hugged his legs, the soggy fabric still clutched in a fist. "But, if Remus..." He swallowed hard, blinking several times.

Sirius soothed his thumb over the back of Harry's head and prompted gently, "If Remus?"

Harry clenched his jaw and then in a burst of words, he demanded, "Why is that more important than us?"

Sirius stilled. His automatic denial died in his throat. Put like that...

"Draco likes me," Harry said, straightening up. "He wanted to be my friend even when he wasn't supposed to because I'm not a pureblood and you're a blood traitor." He spat the word as if they tasted foul. "Draco didn't stop being my friend. He was sorted into Gryffindor!"

Before Sirius could find a response to that, Harry plowed on, "And I know it's not the same because being a werewolf is awful, but it's still bullocks! He shouldn't have left!"

"You're right," Sirius agreed softly; it was difficult to manage even that. The fierce scowl on Harry's face suddenly faltered.

"Maybe..." He worried his bottom lip.

Sirius closed a hand over one of Harry's. "Remus does love you, Harry. I don't want you to think that he doesn't. And I don't know how to explain this any better--I'm bollixing it, I know..." He swallowed, wishing he was strong enough to have this conversation.

Harry leaned against him, wiggling a bit so that he fit snugly under Sirius' arm. He didn't say anything, but Sirius was grateful for that. He couldn't speak either.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, not until Harry said very quietly, "I didn't mean to blow up the train."

Sirius kissed the top of his head. "I know... it's all right." He considered the strewn glass and bits of metal. "Would you like me to fix it?"

Harry shrugged beneath his arm.

Slipping his wand from its holster, Sirius incanted a silent Reparo. He and Harry watched as the pieces lifted off the floor in a flurry of movement; the smokestack wiggled out of Sirius' grip and joined its mates. A wandless summoning charm brought the reconstructed train to Sirius.

"Not bad," he said with a smile that he hoped was encouraging. In truth, the engine looked exactly like it had been shattered and forced back together again. He offered it to Harry.

Harry weighed the mangled engine against his palm.

Digging for some sort of inspiration, Sirius asked, "How would you like me to start giving you Animagus lessons?"

Harry's eyes flew up. "Yeah?"

Sirius smiled. "Yes, then?"

Harry straightened, his green eyes bright with eagerness. "Can we start tonight?"

Sirius untangled his legs and stood, pulling Harry along with him. "Reading about it, yes. The actual attempts to transform will have to wait until you've learned the basics of the magic behind it."

Harry grinned. "Do we have to eat dinner first?"

"Yes," Sirius chuckled, ruffling his godson's hair. Harry sighed dramatically. He tossed the train onto his desk as they passed; it slid to the floor with a dull thud.

oOoOo

Hours later, with Harry tucked into bed, Sirius stood in the frame of the back door, looking out into twinkling blackness, nursing a cup of cold tea. He had never been particularly prone to claustrophobia, but it wasn't claustrophobia he was feeling anyway. The house felt entirely too large.

He sighed and pushed off the frame. Sleep sounded better than this, even if it was only half nine. A soft sound paused his pivot. He had his wand out in the next second, the tea sailing away into the kitchen with a silent, wandless command.

He stood still, his wand out in defensive posture while his eyes scanned the night. Another soft shuffling and Sirius let out a startled chuckle. "Oy," he said softly as he dropped his wand and watched the great black beast step from the small group of trees. "I don't think I've ever heard of a thestral following a person home..."

The thestral snuffled out a deep breath, which Sirius imagined could have been laughter. He slipped his wand into its holster and stepped forward to meet her. As soon as she was close enough she bumped him under the chin as she had done the first time and then shrieked softly.

He stroked her neck, feeling himself smiling. He felt this way each time she was near; as if all the cold places inside of him were warming. "I would let you take me for a ride," he murmured as she nuzzled his neck and spread her wings outward, "but Harry's asleep upstairs."

She lifted her head, her eyes reflecting the stars. After a moment, she folded her wings against her side and snorted. Her hot breath tickled Sirius' nose.

"In the morning," he said, feeling lighthearted and foolish, "I know Harry would like another ride." They'd taken four while on holiday--the thestral had been a frequent visitor to their campsite.

The thestral shrieked softly, her head bobbing up and down. Sirius smiled, running his fingertips along her shoulder and down the tip of her wing as she stood absolutely still. She snorted after a moment, just before a familiar hoot broke the quiet.

It was Hedwig's indignant hoot. Sirius turned around. He could see her agitated flapping through the open kitchen door. He looked up then, another soft hoot calling his attention. A brown owl swooped down from far above the roof, its wings spread wide as it glided over Sirius' head and dropped a scroll at his feet.

Sirius scooped it up, patting the thestral absently as he rolled it open one-handed. He drew in a slow breath as he read, tingles spreading outward through his limbs.

Remus is going to hurt himself, Carad's bold script screamed out at him.

The parchment bent under the stress of Sirius' fingers.

Remus had already hurt himself. Tried to claw himself to pieces. And this--the drinking to excess that Carad was describing--was more of the same. Remus' own brand of self-punishment.

He read the last line again. He's a selfish bastard, but I figured you'd want to know.

Yes, he wanted to know.

Sirius crumpled the parchment. He realized then that he'd tangled his fingers in the thestral's thick mane. "I need to go," he whispered. She snuffled her agreement, her endless eyes glinting as she melted into the trees. Wondering vaguely if she would still be here tomorrow, Sirius went back into the house. Hedwig hooted again, still cross at the intrusion of another owl.

He scratched her head as he reached for the Floo powder and threw it in the fireplace, calling for Ollivander. He stuck his head through the green flames.

Ollivander's shaggy shock of white hair appeared around the corner, from the back of his shop. "Sirius?" he demanded, his eyes sharpening. "What's the matter?"

Sirius shook his head. "I need someone to sit with Harry... if you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course," Ollivander said, already pulling his apron over his head. He waved his fingers impatiently and Sirius pulled back. The wand maker stepped out a moment later.

"Thank you," Sirius said as the older wizard brushed soot from his hair. "I need to go to France... to see Remus, and I didn't want to make up an explanation for Molly Weasley... I could have asked Albus, I suppose, but..."

"No need to explain, Sirius," Ollivander said with a smile. Sirius nodded, knowing that he hadn't needed to, but he felt a bit like he had just woken up in the middle of his deepest sleep. He was probably far too muddle-headed to be taking a trip to France.

But if Remus needed him...

"Go on," Ollivander broke into his thoughts.

"Right..." He ran a hand through his hair, and wished his stomach would be still. "I will Floo you if it will be more than a few hours... I'll be back long before Harry wakes up..."

"Harry will be perfectly fine," Ollivander said patiently.

Sirius nodded. "I'll have to open the Floo once I get there... don't know if it's open and then just use that if he needs me--"

"Sirius," Ollivander interrupted gently. Sirius closed his mouth, swallowing hard, suddenly feeling very foolish. And young. Ollivander squeezed his shoulder. "Go," he said quietly.

So Sirius went.

He stepped inside the shack a moment later, without really knowing what he was expecting to find, and decided as he saw Remus half-sprawled against the fireplace with an empty bottle of wine in his hand, that this was much worse.

Neither had he expected to be so angry, when clearly worry should have won out.

Finding it difficult to move, Sirius walked with clipped steps to his husband, but Remus didn't even notice him until Sirius crouched in front of him. And even then, Remus blinked several times, his brain taking its time to connect back with reality.

"Whatsthat?" he slurred, his head flopping wildly to one side as he tried to peer at Sirius with squinted eyes. Sirius had no idea what Remus meant with the question.

"It's me," he said quietly, keeping his voice low and surprisingly it took no effort. "It's Sirius."

Remus' arms flailed as he leaned in closer. Sirius caught him before his bristled chin smashed into the wood floor, lifting him under his armpits until Remus was staring at him with bloodshot eyes. His complexion rapidly shifting to something that looked like the split pea soup at The Three Broomsticks, Remus whispered, "Sirius?"

"Yes," Sirius said, and though he wasn't inclined to be patient, patience was woven through his tone. "Come along," he murmured, prying the bottle from Remus' grip, "let's get you up and into the bed."

"Sirius?" Remus moaned it this time, the word mournful and Sirius' stomach twisted painfully.

"Hush," he whispered, collecting Remus against his side, taking on his full weight easily. "Into bed."

"Cantgotobed..."

"Yes," Sirius said, firmly this time. "To bed, with several potions."

Remus struggled against Sirius' ribs, his head wagging back and forth. "... you don't unnerstand..."

Sirius grasped his husband's arms, exerting enough pressure that Remus had no choice but to sit on the bed. "I do understand," Sirius told him in that same tone, the one that Remus had absolutely no right to at the moment. "You have got yourself absolutely shitfaced because you feel guilty for being a giant arse and abandoning your family."

Remus stared at him, though Sirius couldn't be certain if that was from shock at Sirius' bluntness or simply because Remus had never been so drunk.

"We can talk about all of that when you are sober," Sirius went on calmly as he hoisted Remus' legs onto the mattress and tugged his oxfords off, not stopping to untie the laces. "And believe me, we will. For now though, trousers off; you'll sleep better that way."

"Sirius..." This time the word was mauled by sick. Sirius sighed, his fingers automatically catching the back of Remus' neck as he emptied his stomach. Once Remus had quieted, he waved his wand in three swift arcs and the muck was whisked away, followed by a freshening charm for his mouth.

He ignored Remus' piteous moans as he worked through the buttons on his shirt. Sirius' throat burned as he glimpsed the scars so recently healed. He blinked several times and returned his attention to peeling the sleeves off, finally pushing Remus gently back against the pillow.

The trousers came next, with Remus fighting to keep his glazed eyes open.

Sirius drew the covers to Remus' chest, smoothing them as Remus mumbled things indecipherable. "Go to sleep," Sirius whispered. Remus gazed up at him through droopy lids, his lips working as if he wanted to say something and couldn't quite remember how to speak.

And no matter that Sirius had never been this angry with him, he couldn't stand to look into Remus' pain-filled face and do nothing. So he bent over and pressed a kiss to the clammy forehead, fingers brushing through the damp locks at his temple. "Just sleep, Moony," he murmured as he felt Remus relax beneath his lips. "We'll sort everything out later."

oOoOo

Remus opened his eyes and waited for the pain to slice through his head; for the nausea to clutch his belly. But he felt only twinges where there should have been throbbing. He turned his head cautiously and then froze.

Sirius.

He hadn't been dreaming...

How was it possible that he hadn't been dreaming?

But Sirius was here, sitting in the chair next to the fireplace; reading by lamplight. The half of Sirius' face that Remus had bruised was obscured by dark hair. Remus' throat burned as he imagined the dark patch of skin.

Turning a page, Sirius' fingers swept the fall of hair away.

The bruise was gone.

Sirius lifted his head then, his eyes meeting Remus'. His lips pressed together, only for a second. Then, closing the book carefully, he set it on the table beside him. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

Remus swallowed, several emotions clamoring for attention. He ignored all of them and levered himself up. Sore muscles made it difficult, but Remus did it anyway, pushing aside the quilt, only realizing he was wearing nothing but underpants when he was fully sitting. He felt his face growing warm, no matter how stupid that was.

Sirius was already crossing the space between them. "Here," he said, bending and reappearing with a dressing gown in his hand. He shook it out with a flick of his wrists; offered it with the shoulders pinched between his fingers. Remus stared at him, his stomach doing wild things that it ought not be allowed to do and then he stood and pushed his arms into the sleeves.

"Thank you," he murmured as he pulled it around him and cinched the belt at the waist.

"You're welcome." Sirius folded his arms loosely over his chest. "How do you feel? Do you need more potions?"

Remus took stock of the dull aches now asserting themselves. "No, I don't think so... Sirius..." He didn't know what he meant to say. Sirius waited with his head tilted for a moment, sighing when Remus couldn't find his tongue.

"You should eat something," he said, dropping his arms. "Toast, perhaps? I don't think anything else will agree with your stomach at the moment."

"Sirius, wait... I..."

Sirius turned back around; those grey eyes holding his--eyes which should have been storm clouds and instead were calm as winter skies.

Remus still couldn't make his brain work. For the better part of two decades, he had known and loved this man. And he could think of nothing to say.

Wishing he was fully clothed, he adjusted his dressing gown, tightening it. "I don't know what to say," he murmured.

Sirius slid his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching. "You don't need to say anything. I didn't come here to talk you into coming home."

Remus' stomach tingled unpleasantly at the unexpected words.

"You made your feelings perfectly clear," Sirius went on in that same soft voice--the one that was devoid of any emotion at all, and the numbness was beginning to spread to Remus' limbs. "Carad sent an owl... said you were intent on destroying yourself." The muscles along Sirius' jaw twitched. "I needed to make certain you didn't."

Remus swallowed through the sudden swelling in his throat, wanting more than anything to touch Sirius then--his face, his hair... something. He couldn't have explained why he didn't. But Sirius turned away again, and each of his quiet footsteps seared Remus' heart.

He watched Sirius unwrap a baguette, wondering where he'd got it. "You don't have to... do that," he said, still standing like a helpless dolt in the middle of the floor. In a dressing gown and pants.

"It's only toast, Remus," Sirius said, not looking up from the knife he had collected from a drawer. "I've made you toast hundreds of times."

Remus could find no response to that. Sirius looked up, those eyes somehow even calmer. "Why don't you have a shower? I saw clean trousers and shirts in your satchel."

How Sirius could know that he couldn't speak properly without his trousers, Remus had no idea. But it made the twisted ache in his chest worse somehow. But Sirius had turned back to the baguette, his knife already sawing through the crust.

When Remus reached the door to the toilet, he paused. He watched Sirius slicing a second piece of bread. "Where is Harry?" he asked quietly.

Sirius tensed; his fingers dented the hard baguette. He didn't look up. "Ollivander is sitting with him."

Remus gripped the door frame, closing his eyes briefly. "How... is he?"

The dull thunk of metal against the countertop broke the silence. Remus opened his eyes.

"How do you think he is?" Sirius asked, fully facing Remus now, his eyes no longer calm. "You left without a word to him, Remus. How did you expect a twelve-year old to understand that? He doesn't understand, and neither do I," he added, the words just as quiet but full of so much pain that Remus flinched.

"He asked me why you didn't love us enough to come home, and I couldn't..." Sirius took a deep a breath, shook his head and turned to stare out the tiny window and into the darkness. "I couldn't even answer him. You weren't supposed to do this. You, of all people, Moony. I never thought..."

Tears stung Remus' sinuses as shame washed over him like a tide. The only thing that Sirius had ever wanted was not to be alone. And without a thought for that--for his own husband--Remus had done just that.

Abandoned him, just like Sirius' parents had. His brother. Peter. And even though it hadn't been their fault--Lily and James as well. The entire wizarding world had turned on Sirius in an instant of insanity.

Remus did not want to be part of that list.

He didn't want to be the third person lost to Harry either.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he whispered as he stepped cautiously toward the kitchen.

"You made a fairly poor job of that," Sirius said flatly, still speaking to the window.

"I know..."

"You hurt our son."

Feeling like he had been socked in the gut, Remus could only breathe, "I'm sorry..."

"I'm not the one who needs to hear that."

More unsure than he'd been even in the moments before Sirius had given him his first kiss, Remus grazed his fingertips along Sirius' shoulder. Sirius tensed again but he didn't move away. "Yes you are," Remus whispered. He slid his hand around to fit it against Sirius' chest. There were dozens of reasons he could give for leaving; so many excuses.

Each one sounded hollow. Selfish.

"There's no excuse," he said. "I know that--"

Sirius turned. Remus' dislodged hand fell uselessly to his side.

"I understand why you were so upset, Remus, of course I do," Sirius said. "I can't imagine what it would feel like... if I had hurt you; it would be unbearable. Except that I had to watch you as well... nearly killing yourself. Do you have any idea what that did to me?" he demanded softly. "When there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop you? And then, instead of talking to me, you left."

Remus had to look away from the grey eyes--so clear; cold steel now, piercing him through.

The sound of Sirius swallowing was loud in the small space. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

Remus' hands clenched. "Because," he said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking, "I broke your jaw. I could have... killed you."

He nearly jumped when Sirius took his hand and pulled it against his own cheek. "Look at me."

With fingers trembling against his husband's face, Remus pulled his eyes from the wall.

"I know you did not mean to hit me," Sirius said quietly when Remus was held captive by the grey eyes once more. "Did you think I would blame you?"

"No," Remus said, shaking his head emphatically. "Of course not, I..."

Sirius twined their fingers together and inexplicably, tears climbed Remus' throat. "Why then?" Sirius said intently, anger finally seeping in. "Why did you leave?"

Remus shook his head, unsure how to explain, not knowing even if he understood it himself. "My worst nightmare," he finally heard himself to say. "Everything I've always been afraid of--hurting you, or later... Harry. Carad--" He tried to clear the blockage in his throat. "--he said... I already knew, but I'm the only werewolf either of us knows who is married."

He wanted to look away but now, this time, he wasn't going to be a coward. "I've always felt that I was cheating somehow; that I shouldn't have been allowed to... have you."

"And when I realized what I had done to you," he went on, no longer able to keep the moisture from finding his eyes, "I couldn't put you through that again--"

"You put me through worse."

Remus pressed his teeth tightly together, gave a tight nod. "I know, Sirius, and I'm sorry..." A low sound escaped his lips and he told himself it wasn't a sob. "I am so sorry."

Sirius' hands shifted and Remus felt a chill run through him, but instead of stepping away, Sirius wound an arm round his waist and pulled him close. His fingers tangled in Remus' hair, tugging gently until their eyes met.

A sad smile pulled at the corner of Sirius' lips. "I don't think I have ever been this angry with you... but I do love you. It's absurd how much I love you."

Remus' automatic response wavered on his tongue, reminding him of the first time Sirius had said those words to him; the harsh retort that Sirius couldn't possibly love him. The same belief taunted him now, but he wasn't going to hurt Sirius again.

He traced the edge of Sirius' face, down his strong jaw. "I love you too."

A spark of pleasure lit Sirius' eyes. Shame washed through Remus again; the realization of how much he'd hurt his husband, if those simple words could mean so much to him. But then Remus didn't say them often enough, even when everything was normal between them.

Selfish was too mild a term for what he'd done. "I was wrong to leave," he said gruffly. "I don't want to stay here... live without you and Harry." Remus' heart thumped as he watched the small smile fade.

Very quietly, Sirius finally said, "You can't do this again." His eyes were calm again, voice as grim as Remus had ever heard it. "I want you to come home, but only if this is it."

Remus nodded, unable to speak. He wasn't certain which of them moved first but there was no longer space between them. Sirius breathed deeply, his nose buried in Remus' hair.

"I'm still angry," he murmured. The words loosened the tightness in Remus' chest. He closed his eyes and pressed himself closer.

"I know."

oOoOo

Harry pushed his glasses up to his forehead, rubbing his fists into his eyes as he padded down the stairs in search of water. The parlour lamps were still lit. He glanced around for Sirius and then halted abruptly as he saw Ollivander in one of the chairs, his eyes closed and his head leaning to one side; snoring lightly.

He squinted at the clock over the mantle. It was half three; what would Ollivander be doing in his parlour in the middle of the night? Unless... Harry's stomach twisted unpleasantly. But where would Sirius go in the middle of the night?

Torn between dashing upstairs for his mirror and waking Ollivander, he frowned. It would be entirely more sensible to wake the wand maker up, instead of jumping to all sorts of mad conclusions. He really hated being sensible.

Sighing, Harry crossed to the chair in front of the fireplace, wrinkled his nose as he tried to figure how to wake Ollivander. If it had been Sirius... or Ron, he would simply shake them awake. He wasn't sure that was the proper etiquette for waking Ollivander though.

One of Sirius' books was sitting on the low table; it was a rather heavy sort of book. One of the really long, epic stories his godfather loved to read. Feeling idiotic, Harry nudged it toward the edge of the table with a knuckle. It fell to the floor with a loud clap.

Ollivander grunted as his eyes fluttered open. His eyes cleared almost instantly. "Harry?" he questioned, voice rough with sleep as he straightened up. "What time is it?"

He settled his spectacles on his nose, craning his neck to peer at the clock even as Harry answered, "Half three."

"So it is..." Ollivander returned to silver gaze to Harry. "Why are you awake at this hour?"

Harry goggled at his mentor, thinking that wasn't the most important question. "Where's Sirius?" he said instead of answering, then decided that might have been impolite so he added hastily, "I was thirsty."

"Sirius had to tend to some things--"

"What things?"

Ollivander raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Sorry sir," Harry apologized quickly for the interruption. Hoping he sounded calmer, he asked, "Do you know where he went?"

"I do."

Harry sat heavily on the low table. He squashed his fingers beneath his thighs. "Did Sirius tell you not to tell me where he went?" he asked quietly. When Ollivander shook his head, Harry pressed, "But then why can't you tell me?"

"Because," Ollivander said with a pointed frown, "it is none of your business. Now, I think you had best fetch your water and then to bed."

Harry only considered arguing for a half a second. Arguing with Ollivander wasn't something he could really bring himself to do though. So he sighed and slid off the table. "Yes sir."

"Goodnight," Ollivander said as he turned for the kitchen.

"Night..." Harry paused before he stepped into the kitchen. "Sir?"

Ollivander twisted. "Yes?"

"Did you mean Remus... when you said Sirius had things to attend to?" He twisted his shirt between two fingers when Ollivander's sharp eyes narrowed. "I mean... Remus is all right, isn't he?"

The silver eyes softened the tiniest bit. "Yes," the wand maker answered quietly. "Your parents are both perfectly well. Off with you now," he added when Harry didn't move. Reluctant, even with the reassurance, Harry nodded and slipped into the kitchen.

Lifting her head from underneath her wing, Hedwig greeted him with a soft hoot.

"Hey girl..." He smoothed a finger down her soft feathers, smiling a little when she nibbled at his finger. He looked up as he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. His eyes widened when he stepped to the window.

Quickly, he pulled the back door open. "What are you doing here?"

The thestral snorted.

Harry stepped forward cautiously, holding his hands out like Ollivander had showed him and whispered, "Sirius isn't here..."

The thestral let out a breath, her head bobbing a nod. Harry smiled as she nudged his hand with her nose.

"Are you hungry? I don't really have any birds for you to eat... Hedwig isn't food."

The thestral warmed his hand with a long breath, making Harry wonder--as he had when they were in the forest--exactly how much she understood.

"I don't think you would like minced beef... too cold. I have apples, but you don't eat apples, do you?" he whispered; she butted his hand again. She seemed to respond best to low tones. "What are you doing here, eh? I bet you were lonely."

The thestral answered only with her snort, but that was enough.

"I see you found our visitor."

Startled, Harry spun around. Sirius was leaning against the door frame, smiling.

"You knew she was here?"

Sirius pushed off the frame. The thestral gave a soft shriek in greeting, already moving toward him. "She was here just after you fell asleep," Sirius said, draping an arm across Harry's shoulders as he ran his palm up the thestral's inky muzzle.

"How did she know where to find you?"

"Don't know," Sirius murmured. "Thestrals do have a keen sense of direction though..." He glanced down at Harry, one eyebrow quirked. "It's a bit early for you to be up for the day, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "I was thirsty."

"And you thought the thestral might have water for you," Sirius said with a solemn nod. Harry smiled. Sirius smiled as well, though the humour drained from his eyes almost immediately. He squeezed Harry's shoulder. Very quietly, he said, "Remus is here."

After a stunned moment, Harry's eyes darted to the back door. "He is?"

"Mmhm."

Harry couldn't see anything except the cold cupboard from this angle. He lifted his eyes back to Sirius.

"He came home with me... went straight to bed though. I was a quite startled to find your bed empty," he added, his fingers tapping against Harry's arm.

There was a wrinkle in the middle of his forehead as Sirius gazed down at him. Harry knew his godfather was waiting for him to say something. Realizing they had probably Apparated straight to their bedroom, Harry felt himself frowning as he asked curiously, "Is that where you went? To fetch him?"

"No," Sirius murmured. "He wasn't feeling well... He needed potions."

Harry considered that. "Did Remus ask you to bring them?"

Sirius' face wavered and Harry wondered why it was such a difficult question. "No," he finally said. "Carad sent me a message; Remus was with him."

"Oh." Harry didn't know why it should make a difference how Remus had got here, or why he had come home. But the burning in his stomach told him it did. Screwing up his face as he dealt with the unpleasant sensation, he asked, "He's staying, then?"

"Yes," Sirius said softly. He took Harry's chin in his hand, tilting his face up. "I know how difficult this has been... it has been for me as well. It's perfectly all right if you still feel angry, even though Remus is home. And if you want to talk about anything... I'm right here to listen."

Ignoring the tickle at the back of his throat, Harry nodded. Sirius squeezed his cheeks gently, smiling a little.

"Let's go inside," he said. "You don't even have anything on your feet."

Harry wiggled his toes against the cold grass. "Do you think she'll still be here in the morning?" he asked, his fingers tickling the thestral's neck.

Sirius patted her muscled flank. "I hope so."

oOoOo

Sirius peeled off his shirt as soon as he stepped into his room, sending it with a wave of his fingers to the hamper. He had sat with Harry until he'd fallen asleep--the first time he had done so in years.

He toed off his shoes, nearly toppling as he bent to tug at a sock. Rustling sheets interrupted his go at the other one.

Grimacing, Sirius finished pulling off the sock as quietly as he could and then stepped out of his trousers gingerly, foregoing his usual pajama bottoms and stepped silently to the bed.

Remus' eyelids fluttered open as soon as he slid under the quilt. "Sorry," Sirius whispered. "Didn't mean to wake you... go back to sleep."

A drowsy smile was his answer.

Tentative fingers brushed Sirius' cheek, tracing the outline of the phantom bruise, as if the shape had been burned into Remus' memories.

Sirius watched the expressions on his husband's face, vivid even in the moonlight filtering through their curtains. The pain and sadness; love was mingled in there as well, but mostly it was... concentration. It was the only way to describe it; Remus was memorizing his face.

His eyes were carefully taking in every angle, flickering with a smile when Sirius returned the study with a furrowed brow. The deliberate fingers slid to his neck, running upward against his nape as the other hand joined the exploration, skimming over his chest, collarbones... his neck; Remus' thumb followed the curve of Sirius' lips.

Unable to be still, Sirius propped himself up. He hooked a leg over Remus' hip and tugged, winning himself a startled smile as he settled against Remus' chest. Sirius twined their fingers together; pressed Remus' knuckles into the soft mattress as Remus gazed up at him, his pale brown eyes shining in the soft light.

Sirius kissed him.

Slumbering nerves wakened slowly; with gentle prodding and quiet persistence. Sirius had never cared for lovemaking in the dark; in quiet either, but this--this was an intensity that he had never before experienced. The dim light only heightened his senses as they rediscovered one another.

Sirius drank in every sigh, every soft breath.

Relished the wonder on Remus' face, the warmth in each one of his touches. And when Remus was curled into his side, their legs still tangled, chests heaving in tandem, Sirius closed his eyes, searching for the tension that had squeezed his chest for the past week.

But Remus' hand was swirling lazy circles in the soft hair at his belly, sending pleasant tingles over Sirius' skin, and there wasn't room left for anything else.

oOoOo

Harry took the stairs slowly, his hand squeaking along the banister as he neared the last step. The door to Sirius' room had been open, the bed neatly made. Considering it was nearly eleven, Harry wasn't surprised.

The parlour was empty, and he could see Sirius rummaging through the cold cupboard. Remus was nowhere in sight.

Sirius looked up as he padded into the kitchen, smiling. "Well, good morning, sleepy-head."

"Morning..." Harry reached back to scratch at a shoulder blade and yawned. "Guess I was tired..."

"Remus and I only woke up an hour ago," Sirius said, reaching over to ruffle Harry's hair as Harry came over to slouch against the counter beside his godfather.

Harry's eyebrows peaked at the mention of Remus. Sirius smiled and crooked his head toward the window; Harry's gaze followed the gesture. Remus was in the yard beside the thestral, stroking her mane; Harry's stomach danced.

"Annwn seems rather taken with him."

Harry pulled his eyes from Remus. "Annwn?" he echoed, giving his godfather a lopsided smile. "Like the thestral who saved Merlin from Morgan le Fay's Inferi?" It was one of Sirius' favorite tales. He'd read it to Harry at least five hundred and twelve times.

"She needed a name, didn't she?" Sirius answered with a smirk. He gave Harry a gentle nudge toward the back door. "Go say good morning."

Harry didn't know if Sirius was referring to the thestral or to Remus, but he obeyed. He was halfway across the yard when the thestral--Annwn--lifted her black head, her neck bobbing a greeting.

Remus turned. A huge smile lit his face, startling Harry for an instant.

His own smile was quite a bit smaller. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he ducked his head briefly and finished the trek.

Remus' smile had calmed a little, hovering now. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi."

"How... How are you?"

Harry shrugged. He squinted as he studied Remus' face; it was especially pale, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Gray, Mrs. Weasley would have described him. "Are you better now?" he asked. Remus' brow crumpled in confusion. "Sirius said you weren't feeling well..."

"Oh. Yes... much better."

"Good." Harry took up Remus' post next to Annwn and began combing his fingers carefully through her mane.

A faint smile this time. "Sirius told me that you saw a herd of unicorns?"

"Yep."

"You plucked a hair from one?"

Twisting the strands of mane into awkward braids, Harry nodded.

Remus' chest rose and fell, but he didn't quite sigh. "Sirius learned to carve... Did he show you?"

"Yep."

"He enjoys working with Ollivander almost as much as you, I think."

Harry smiled, thinking of how Sirius had listened so carefully to Ollivander's instructions about approaching the herd, his head tilted in concentration as he asked questions. "Yeah."

"I am glad you enjoyed your holiday," Remus murmured, several wrinkles his forehead.

Harry stopped petting Annwn, his lips turning down without his permission as he stared at Remus, wanting to tell him that they hadn't enjoyed it as much as Remus wanted to believe. Not that Sirius had moped, but Harry could just tell.

They stared at one another for what seemed like a very long time, while Remus wound his fingers around his wrist; unwound them again. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I wish I had been with you. I missed you both very much."

Harry didn't nod this time. Not because he didn't believe that Remus had missed them, but it seemed too difficult to do anything but stare.

"Harry..." Remus put a hand on his shoulder and he ducked his head. "It was very wrong of me to leave, especially without speaking to you first."

Harry shrugged. "S'allright... I mean Sirius told me you were worried about hurting us; because the Wolfsbane didn't work."

"Yes, I was," Remus said softly. "It was still wrong though... I'm very sorry."

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say.

Remus searched his face, his eyes and lips pinched. "I know that Sirius didn't tell you that he was hurt. The wolf..." His voice faded out for a second, but then he set his jaw. "Because the Wolfsbane didn't work, the werewolf took control of me... it was only a few moments until I regained control. But when I realized that Sirius had been hurt, I didn't think I could to stay here, knowing that one of you could be hurt again. But I should have considered your feelings before I left."

Harry swallowed, managing to ease the burn in his throat. "What if the Wolfsbane can't be fixed?"

The knot in Remus' throat bobbed. "I will stay alone at the cottage in France during full moons... I would need to do that for at least the first two months even if Snape can brew a different formula. But either way, I won't leave again."

Harry wanted to believe that. He knew that Remus wouldn't say it if he didn't believe it himself. And Sirius had said Remus was staying, so Harry ignored the worried tingles in his stomach. "OK," he finally answered, almost a whisper.

Remus attempted another smile, not quite succeeding. The tingles in Harry's gut grew louder, even though he knew it was rather silly to feel guilty over the sad expression on Remus' face.

Toeing the soft earth with his trainer, Harry said quietly, "I'm glad you're back."

A smile touched Remus' eyes; eyes which were watching him carefully. Very slowly, he stepped closer and curled his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Me too," he murmured. Harry let his head rest against Remus' chest for a moment, concentrating on the hand smoothing his hair.

"Did Sirius tell you that we rode her?" he asked as he pulled back, indicating the newly christened Annwn. "It was brilliant."

A small breeze ruffled Remus' hair, sending it up at bizarre angles. He combed it off his forehead. When it looked its tidy self again, he said, "Yes, he did."

"She must be hungry, don't you think so?"

"I don't know..."

"She'll hunt when she's hungry," Sirius said, coming up behind Remus with two full glasses in hands, and a third floating beside him. "Water," Sirius said, smiling as he gave one of the glasses to Remus. "And lemonade for you," he said, sending the other glass to Harry with a waggle of his fingers.

"But what if the neighbors see her?" Harry asked, poking a large piece of ice until it was submerged.

"Already took care of it," Sirius said, his lips puckering after a long sip of lemonade. "I placed a charm on her so that she will be invisible once she leaves our wards." He winked at Harry. "Anyone riding her will be as well."

"May we?" Harry asked, the excited words burbling into his glass.

Sirius slipped an arm around Remus' waist. "After lunch. Unless you would like to continue our Animagus research..."

Harry chewed a lip, considering as he loped along beside them toward the house. "Can't we do both?"

Sirius feigned a dramatic sigh. "If we must..."

"We must," Harry said, dodging around them and into the kitchen. "I can't wait to find out what my Animagus form is."

"Well, we aren't going to find out this afternoon," Sirius said with a soft chuckle, "so why don't you lay the table while I finish these sandwiches."

"I'll do that," Remus offered, already moving to the cupboard where they kept the dishes.

Sirius handed Harry the pitcher of lemonade, interrupting his study of Remus. Harry cradled the pitcher to his chest as he caught his godfather's eye. Sirius smiled. A real smile, the shadows no longer lurking. Harry smiled too, very glad that Remus was home.