Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Remus

This thing called love, I just can't handle it
This thing called love, I must get round to it
I ain't ready
Crazy little thing called love

Remus Lupin was not a stupid man, nor was he unobservant. Out of this particular group of friends, he had been the first to notice that something was up with Sirius, but unlike Peter he had kept his theories to himself. And he had had plenty of theories, ranging from the plausible to the bizarre to the downright ridiculous. He had come a lot closer to the truth than Peter had, but he had dismissed that particular possibility almost as soon as it had entered his head.

So, he had kept his thoughts to himself, and expected that Sirius would probably tell him in his own good time. What he hadn't expected was this.

He lay awake for several hours after Sirius had left the room, staring at the ceiling, thoughts whirling in his head. Various little voices - his inner Remuses as it were - were arguing with each other, trying to tell him what to do. Some were feeling rather flattered, some were confused, some were telling him to get out of bed and do something about the situation right now, whilst others were telling him, as always, to exercise caution. Unfortunately, his stuffed up head and runny nose weren't exactly conducive to any sort of deep thinking, and he dropped off to sleep around three in the morning without the voices having reached any sort of conclusion.

The next thing he knew, the sun pouring through a gap in the curtains was making his head hurt, and a different sort of voice was hissing.

'Remus? Moony, are you awake?'

Remus opened his eyes, winced, and rolled over to be confronted by the sight of Sirius negotiating a rather overbalanced tray through the half open doorway.

'Oh good!' Sirius exclaimed, seeing Remus sit up. 'You're already awake. I brought you breakfast, but I was trying not to wake you.'

You weren't exactly trying very hard, Sirius, thought Remus, slightly disquieted by how awkward he felt. Whatever happens, he told himself, don't let him know you overheard him talking.

He forced his face into a smile and said, 'You really didn't have to do this.' At least, that's what he tried to say. Unfortunately, the gunk coating his tongue caused it to sound more like: 'Yureldinavtodis.' He swallowed and tried again.

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. 'I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.' He placed the tray down on Remus' lap and beamed happily. 'Full fry-up!' he announced. 'You know what they say, 'feed a cold', so I've done you egg, sausage, bacon, mushroom, tomato, and bread. Enjoy.'

Remus, who even on the best of occasions could never manage more than a cup of tea and a couple of pieces of toast in the mornings, attempted to control his heaving stomach and look grateful. 'That's...very nice of you, Padfoot,' he said weakly. 'You don't mind if I don't finish all of it, do you?'

Sirius grinned and sat down by the side of the bed. 'Not at all, I'd eat everything you can't manage.'

'I thought you might.' Remus speared a slice of fried tomato on his fork and gingerly put it in his mouth. It was not unlike chewing cardboard, but he was rewarded by Sirius' pleased face.

'Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?' he asked, swallowing. 'Shouldn't you be at work or something?'

Sirius looked at him oddly. 'It's Saturday, remember? And I thought I'd keep you company. Nothing worse than being on your own when you're ill,' he added, grinning.

Great, throw that back in my face, thought Remus grumpily. There was something rather ironic about the fact that Sirius had been avoiding him for months, but now that he wanted to be alone, he couldn't get rid of his flatmate for love nor money. He winced involuntarily at the rather unfortunate choice of words.

Sirius apparently noticed the movement. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes, I'm...' Remus paused. 'Actually, no. I really don't feel too good, so would you mind if I just tried to get back to sleep?'

'Say no more,' said Sirius cheerfully. 'I know when I'm not wanted.' He picked up the tray. 'If you need me, just give me a shout, I'll be in all day. I'll look in on you later with a cup of tea, okay?'

'That's great, thanks.' Remus sank back under the covers thankfully, his head throbbing. Knowing there was no way he was getting back to sleep any time soon, he allowed himself to stare at the door which Sirius had just closed. What was he going to do?

He sighed. 'Bugger.'

*****

Remus was never sure how he managed to get through the following weeks. The 'flu helped, of course, he managed to spend about a fortnight just sleeping, but that excuse eventually started to wear thin.

The real trouble was that Sirius was constantly there. He seemed determined to make up for his slightly odd behaviour of before by being the best friend and flatmate that there ever was...but in a very Sirius-like way. Far from never being home, he now never left the flat unless he absolutely had to, and he appeared to have decided that the best way for Remus to get well again was to supply him with a constant supply of food, tea and company.

Remus was full of admiration for the way Sirius had managed to completely change his behaviour, but he had never in his life before so badly craved space. He desperately wanted some time on his own - or at least away from Sirius - to think through everything, to wrap his head around it, but that seemed to be impossible. Salvation was to come, however, from a rather unexpected source.

On a Thursday three weeks after the overheard conversation and four days after his employer had told him that 'his services were no longer required', Remus woke in a particularly foul mood. As if things weren't bad enough, he was now having trouble sleeping, haunted by dreams where people - mostly Sirius - chased him with large platters of food.

Really, what is going on with the constant feeding? he mused as he shuffled into the bathroom, yawning. Maybe he thinks that if he makes me fat, he won't be attracted to me anymore. He snickered to himself as he brushed his teeth, though he was genuinely puzzled. It wasn't just Sirius either; every time James and/or Lily had visited they had brought huge quantities of food with them. Even Peter had got in on the act, turning up with pastries his mother had made.

Oh, well. He yawned and stretched his arms as he made his way back to his bedroom. It was a mystery, but he had more important things to worry about - finding another job for starters. He wasn't sure whether to start looking right away, or wait until after the upcoming full moon; on the one hand, he still wasn't feeling a hundred percent (he didn't know exactly what effect the lingering traces of the 'flu would have on his transformation, but he was prepared to bet it wouldn't be pleasant), but on the other, if he didn't have anything to occupy him for the next few days, he would probably drive himself mad wandering around the flat and dwelling on things that were better...not dwelt on.

He was still debating with himself as he entered the kitchen, where he was deeply shocked to find his former headmaster having a cup of tea with his flatmate.

'Professor Dumbledore!' he stammered, unable to cope with the rather odd picture. Dumbledore beamed at him.

'No need for the 'Professor', Remus, you're not at Hogwarts now. How are you feeling? Fully recovered, I hope?'

'I'm fine,' said Remus, who didn't waste time wondering how Dumbledore had known he was ill. He glanced at Sirius, who - he was slightly surprised to find - was looking sulky. Extremely sulky, in fact.

'I'll be going then,' said the person in question, getting up from the kitchen table with a bad grace. 'There's tea in the pot.' He grabbed his cloak and headed off, pausing at the door. 'Make sure you eat breakfast, okay?'

Remus rolled his eyes. 'Yes, Mum,' he said, straight-faced. Sirius flushed slightly, but contented himself with a quick glare before leaving.

Remus grinned slightly sheepishly at Dumbledore. 'So what brings you here, sir?' he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting in Sirius' recently vacated seat.

'Hmmm?' Dumbledore appeared not to have heard. 'I must say, this is quite a pleasant flat. I certainly didn't expect it to be so clean and tidy.' He looked amused.

Remus, who knew the real reason why Sirius had been on an out-of-character cleaning frenzy recently, decided to ignore this. 'It's Sirius' flat,' he said instead. 'He bought it with an inheritance he got from an uncle. I pay rent,' he added, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Privately, he wondered why he was bothering. Dumbledore most likely already knew who owned the flat, where Sirius had got the money, and exactly how much rent Remus paid.

'So, sir, not that it's not nice to see you, but why are you here?'

Dumbledore sighed, and, unusually, looked hesitant. 'I need you to talk to someone for me,' he said, and paused.

Remus put down his mug and waited expectantly. He knew better than to ask questions; if Dumbledore wanted to tell him something he would get to the point eventually, and if Dumbledore wanted to keep something from him, no amount of impatient questions would help.

Slowly, as though he was picking his words carefully, he continued. 'The person in question…values their anonymity quite highly. In fact, it's taken me some time to get them to talk to anyone at all. But...they could be very useful to the Order.'

'Who is this person?'

'Have you read Hairy Snout, Human Heart?'

Remus smiled. 'Once or twice.' Or two or three hundred times, he added to himself. He actually had two copies, for his parents had bought him one for Christmas the year it had been published, and he had also received a copy from Sirius, James and Peter.

'The author prefers to remain anonymous, but...' Dumbledore hesitated. 'These are somewhat special circumstances. I know I can trust you to keep this completely secret, even from your friends?' He waited for Remus' nod before continuing. 'The author is George Hartwell - a former pupil of mine actually - who currently lives down in Wimborne. A beautiful place in the autumn, but then, you'll see that for yourself next week.' He paused, smiling at the dumbfounded expression on Remus' face. 'George has lived as a Muggle for a good few years now, and doesn't really trust wizards very much. Understandable, really, but...watch your step.'

For a moment Remus couldn't speak. 'I'm sorry,' he said eventually. 'You want me to...Why me? No, sorry, stupid question. But what do you want me to do? To say?'

'You'll probably find out when you get there,' Dumbledore replied with a smile, as helpful as ever.

Remus nodded; Dumbledore kept talking, telling him when he needed to go and how he should get there, but Remus could take in very little of what he was saying.

'I'll miss Sirius' birthday,' he suddenly realised, interrupting Dumbledore.

'I'm sure he'll understand.' Dumbledore drained the dregs of his mug and stood up. 'Must be off, I'm afraid. Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day. Good luck. I'll expect to hear from you soon. By the way, Remus...George can sometimes be a little eccentric. Be prepared that the experience might not be exactly what you expect.' He smiled again and left, leaving Remus with his confused thoughts.

*****

'What do you mean, you're going to miss my birthday?' Sirius was sat, looking shell-shocked, on the end of Remus' bed watching him pack. On Dumbledore's instructions, Remus hadn't told anyone he was going until the day he was due to leave - and if he was completely honest, he had been rather glad of the excuse to delay the announcement.

Considering you spent about two months doing everything you could to avoid me, you really don't get to feel upset here, Remus thought to himself, but he continued packing calmly. 'It's not as though you're going to miss me, you'll have James and Lily and Peter. If you don't like it, take it up with Dumbledore.'

'I might just do that. And of course we'll miss you!' 'We', Remus noted, wondering why he cared. 'It won't be the same without you there. Tell Dumbledore you won't do it.'

'I have to,' he said, folding up a jumper and placing it in the suitcase.

'Why? You won't even tell me what you're doing.'

Remus paused and turned to look at his friend, who did genuinely look quite upset. He sighed heavily. 'Look...you know I'd tell you if I could.'

'You would?'

'Of course I would,' he said, turning back to his packing. 'I don't like keeping secrets from you guys, but Dumbledore wants me to keep this to myself for the time being, okay?'

'Okay,' said Sirius, still looking sulky. 'Though I don't know why he'd make you travel only two days after a full moon. And on Muggle transport!'

'I'm going on Muggle transport precisely because it's only two days after a full moon and I don't want to Apparate.' Muggle transport was also the best way to avoid detection, a mark of how important this errand was, and something that Sirius knew full well. 'Besides, it might be fun. I haven't been on a train since the Hogwarts Express.'

Sirius looked wistful. 'You know, part of me still misses the train ride to school. The whole thing about a new school year, full of possibilities... And we had fun, didn't we?' he added, grinning.

Remus couldn't help but grin back, his mind suddenly full of memories. 'We did. You really miss Hogwarts, don't you?'

'I know it's stupid,' Sirius said, shrugging, 'but everything seemed so much simpler then. For the most part, anyway. Then things got complicated,' he said, so quietly Remus had to strain to hear him.

'They did,' he agreed. Both men were quiet for a few moments, before Sirius shook his head as if to clear it, and asked Remus what time his train left.

'Two thirty-seven,' he replied, checking his watch.

'Want a lift to the station?'

Remus raised an eyebrow. 'On that thing?'

'Don't call my bike 'that thing'!' said Sirius, looking deeply offended. 'You'll hurt the old girl's feelings.'

'Sirius, it's a motorbike. It doesn't have feelings. But I would appreciate a lift,' he added.

'Good.'

Another awkward silence descended, again broken by Sirius, this time jumping off the bed and moving briskly to the door.

'I'm hungry. What do you fancy for lunch?'

'I'm all right, thanks, I'll have something later.' Remus looked up to find Sirius remaining where he was, frowning.

'You ought to eat something.'

'I will,' said Remus, trying not to feel irritated. 'I'm just not hungry yet, I'll find something later on.'

Sirius hesitated, still looking unhappy. 'Look, if I heat up some soup will you have some? You could eat it later if you want.'

'I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Sirius, you don't need to worry about me.'

'Oh, I know,' he said quickly, 'but it makes sense if I make something for both of us. We've got that bread that needs eaten up, I could do us some tuna cheese melts?'

'For God's sake, Sirius!' snapped Remus, his temper finally boiling over. 'Why do you feel this constant need to feed me? I'm a grown man, I can eat or not eat whatever I bloody well want!'

'I know,' said Sirius, taken aback, 'but...'

''But' nothing! I'm sick of you constantly fussing over me, treating me like a five-year-old. I'm not an invalid and I don't need a nurse-maid!'

'But...' Sirius tried again, but some sort of dam had burst, and there was no stopping Remus now.

'And as if that's not bad enough, you had to drag everyone else into it too! I'm assuming you're the reason Lily keeps turning up with casseroles? I think I preferred it when you were avoiding me, at least it was quieter! You're not my mother and you're not...' He stopped himself.

'I'm not what?' Sirius asked quietly.

'You're not responsible for my well being, Padfoot.' said Remus, calming down. 'You really don't need to keep feeding me. What's going on?'

He looked awkward. 'I don't know. I suppose I just thought...'

'You thought what?'

'Well, you remember when you were ill? It was the first time I noticed, really noticed, how thin you are, and I just started wondering about it.'

'Some people are naturally thin, Padfoot, and besides, my eating habits are really none of your business.'

'I was just worried about you,' he said with an air of defiance, meeting Remus' eyes properly for the first time.

Remus sighed. 'So instead of talking to me about it, you decided to take charge and run my life for me?'

'Well, that's a slight exaggeration, but...' Sirius shrugged sheepishly. 'I suppose I went a bit overboard.'

'Just slightly,' said Remus, smiling faintly. 'I eat just fine, Sirius, and next time talk to me first, all right?'

Sirius nodded, then hesitated, looking as though he wanted to say something else, but eventually left the room in silence.

Remus watched the door swing shut behind him, before letting out a loud groan.

'Things did get complicated,' he muttered to himself.

*****

The train south was relatively empty, which suited Remus perfectly. He was able to find a compartment with only one other occupant - a large, red-faced, white-haired old man who was snoring peacefully - and could settle himself in the corner with his book.

After the conductor had come round and stamped his ticket in a rather bored sort of way, done without ever looking at either the ticket or the ticket-holder, Remus stopped feeling quite so nervous. In fact, it was not unlike being back on the Hogwarts Express, and he had to fight off a huge wave of nostalgia. He gave up on the Muggle book he had bought on a whim in the station - it was boring as hell - and turned his attention to the fields flashing past the window.

He wasn't seeing the view though; he was seeing four small boys, sat in a compartment very similar to this one, talking, laughing, swapping stories and eating sweets, and generally making as much noise as they possibly could. Sirius was right, things were simpler then. When had they got so complicated?

He sighed heavily, and then turned his attention back to the matter in hand. Dwelling on memories wasn't going to do him any good, and he had more important things to worry about. Checking that the old man was still asleep, he leaned down, took a copy of Hairy Snout, Human Heart out of his rucksack, and started flicking through it. There was no point in reading it, he practically knew it off by heart anyway, but there was something comforting about seeing the familiar words. It was so odd to think that he would be meeting the man who had written them in less than an hour.

He continued flicking through, not looking for any particular passage, but finding himself, almost against his will, pausing at the beginning of one well-read chapter. He began to read.

I understand that nowadays they talk a lot more to a werewolf who just received the bite; they are told how it will affect their lives, how everything has changed, instead of the version I got which effectively boiled down to 'Your life's over. Deal with it. By the way, even we're a little scared of you'.

Well, good for them. No, really, I'm glad that they give out a little more information now. But I'll bet you ten Galleons that they still don't tell people anything they actually need to know. Like, 'By the way, you know how you were always scared you'd disappoint your parents? Congratulations! You've done it! They'll never quite meet your eyes again!' Or, 'Remember those dreams you had, of a career, of making a difference? Well, you can forget them! You're a half-breed now; you don't deserve ambitions.'

But the big one, the one really glaring omission that no one will ever mention to you, is that you can forget romance. You can forget relationships. You can forget finding your One True Love and living Happily Ever After. Hell, you can even forget finding a halfway decent human being who'll agree to go to dinner with you. And the reason no one will tell you this is probably because it seems self-evident.

And so it should be. If those first few weeks are anything to go by, where old friends are suddenly too busy to visit, it's going to be a pretty lonely life from now on. Who could ever love a monster?

But at the age of 23, with my whole life ahead of me, I refused to believe that I would never find love, never settle down and raise a family (and Merlin knows I don't even like children). To be completely honest, there's a part of me now at 57 that still refuses to believe it'll never happen. A life without love may be terrible, but a life without even the hope, the possibility of finding love is worse.

The old man opposite gave a particularly loud snore, and Remus was quickly jerked out of his thoughts. He shook himself slightly and went back to flicking through the book, eventually stopping at the dedication, which still made him smile slightly every time he read it ('To the werewolf who bit me - I hope you rot in hell, you life-stealing bastard'). Below it were three different kinds of handwriting, spelling out words Remus knew off by heart.

I like this bloke! I reckon we should find out who he is, track him down, shake him by the hand and make him an honorary one of us. Sounds like a kindred spirit. Anyway, Merry Christmas, Moony, and I hope you like the book. Whatever the mutt says, it was all my idea ~ Prongs

Merry Christmas, Moony, sorry you have to stay here! You'll have to tell us what the castle is like when it's practically empty. As for the book, I'm not taking sides. I don't know whose idea it was. I'd like to point out, however, that neither of them listened to me when I said your parents had probably bought you one too ~ Wormtail

Don't even think of listening to that bloody horse. Not only was it my idea, but I was the one who had to waste a Hogsmeade visit by trudging all the way to that bloody bookshop while those lazy sods went to Honeydukes. And don't listen to the rat, either, if your parents have got you one too, you can have a copy at home and one at school, or one for emergencies or something. Merry Christmas, Moony ~ Padfoot

He stared at the familiar words for a very long time, lost in thought, only closing the book and putting it away when they got close to the station. He gathered up his belongings, put the unfamiliar coat over his arm, and as he joined the throng of people in the corridor waiting to leave the train, he realised with a groan that it had started to pour with rain. There was something vaguely appropriate about it.

*****

He followed Dumbledore's directions without difficulty, finding the house - a pleasant, old brick building some distance back from the main road - and ducking into the porch in order to escape the rain. He rang the doorbell and waited, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the water from his ears. As he waited for someone to answer the door, his thoughts turned once again to somewhere he really didn't want them to go. I wish I could switch my brain off, he thought irritably, as the unwanted image of Sirius' hurt face rose in his mind, and was relieved by the sound of the door opening.

He turned, ready to introduce himself, but then stopped, completely floored. On the doorstep stood one of the tiniest women he had ever seen in his life; her hair was white, but her lined face was quite brown, creating a rather odd contrast. Her hands were covered in flour, and she wore an apron which proclaimed 'Gardeners do it with gloves on' in large embroidered letters.

'Is there a problem?' the woman asked politely.

'Um…' said Remus, his mind completely blank. He must be in the wrong place, surely? He pulled himself together. 'Sorry, I was looking for George Hartwell.'

'And you've found her. You must be Remus,' said the woman, smiling slightly. She held out a hand. 'Georgina Hartwell. Dumbledore must have neglected to mention one or two things.'

'Clearly,' replied Remus, shaking her hand in a complete daze.

'Well, why don't you come in and have a cup of tea, and I'll fill you in. Follow me! Oh, and watch out for that beam there, it's a little low...too late. Never mind. You and I are no strangers to pain, right? You don't mind teabags, do you?'

'Teabags are fine,' said Remus, completely at a loss. He had followed the woman through a tiny, dark passageway, bumped his head on a beam, and now found himself in a large airy kitchen. His hostess was now bustling around the room, searching for mugs, and apologising for the mess, he had found her in the middle of baking, and could he just pass her that teapot on the shelf behind him, and did he take sugar? Not that it mattered as she had run out...

Remus, feeling as breathless as though he was the one doing the talking, did as she asked, replied that he didn't take sugar, and sat down, completely at a loss. His brain seemed to have stopped working, and one of the inner Remuses was almost expecting someone to pop out from behind a door and shout 'Surprise!'

Eventually, the woman came and sat down at the table, passing him his mug of tea and giving him what can only be described as an old fashioned look.

'I'm not what you expected.'

'I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude...'

She waved a hand. 'Don't be ridiculous, you don't need to be sorry! For some reason,' she said, looking thoughtful, 'I'm never what people expect.' She smirked at him, obviously enjoying his discomfort, and he shifted awkwardly in his chair.

'Dumbledore probably meant to teach me a lesson, but I'm damned if I know what it is,' he admitted. 'Something about books and their covers maybe. But I have to say, I've read Hairy Snout, Human Heart more times than I can count, and I'm pretty certain it was written by a man. In fact, it says so on the cover...' He hesitated, feeling embarrassed, but took the book out of his bag anyway. 'And I quote: 'A heartrending account of one wizard's battle with lycanthropy.''

George shrugged. 'Publishers. What can you do?' He looked at her doubtfully, and she rolled her eyes. 'All right, so maybe I deliberately gave a certain impression. Changed a few pronouns, fudged a few things. It does say in the front that all the names are changed.'

He continued to look at her silently. 'All right! So I lied!' she snapped. 'And are you always truthful with everyone all the time?' She raised an eyebrow. 'Precisely. I just wanted to make sure no one ever found out who I was. I'm sure you can understand that need for privacy.'

Remus smiled. 'I suppose so.'

'I never met anyone from the publishers in person, and I always called myself George in any correspondence. I'm pretty certain Dumbledore is the only person who knows who 'an anonymous author' really is.'

'How did Dumbledore find out?' he asked, curious.

George frowned. 'I suppose he worked it out for himself, though I will never understand how. He taught me Transfiguration at Hogwarts - he was my favourite teacher actually. Perhaps he just recognised my style of writing, or something.' She sipped her tea, staring into the middle distance. 'Anyway, he sent me an owl, not long after publication, completely out of the blue. Hadn't heard from him in years, not since before I received the bite - my own stupid fault. Though I suppose you know that story, don't you? You've read the book.'

Remus acknowledged that he had, grinning. '...though that story takes on new significance now. Who was Andrew?'

She waggled a finger at him, looking disapproving. 'I hate that, that attitude that men and women can't be friends without something more going on. You read that story thinking I was a man, and Andrew was a man, and you didn't read anything into it. You find out I'm a woman and it 'takes on a whole new significance'? Why? Why didn't you read anything into it before?'

Remus shifted again in his seat, feeling uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taking. 'Because, well, that's not very common, is it?'

'Don't be so sure,' she said darkly. 'Don't assume that something isn't happening just because people aren't very open about it.'

'But some people are very open about it,' Remus muttered, surprised himself at how bitter he sounded. George gave him a sharp look.

'And a lot of people are in denial. Is that better for them?' She suddenly smiled her thin-lipped smile to herself. 'Anyway, as it happens, Andrew is not his real name, and there is in fact a lot more to that story that you are not going to get to hear. Shortbread?'

He accepted a piece thankfully, realising it had been a very long time since lunch, but he was feeling more and more confused. He had been prepared for the fact that his idol might not exactly fit the image in his head, but there was no way he could have been prepared for this. The book he had read so many times he could practically quote it off by heart, the book that had been his comfort, his refuge for several years now...it wasn't real. It was all lies.

He felt a sudden surge of anger, for Dumbledore should have warned him. What was he expected to do? He looked back up to find George watching him with an unreadable expression. Looking away, he bit into his shortbread, which turned out to be dry, hard and tasteless. He should have expected it, really, it was that sort of day.

'Do you know why I'm here?' he eventually asked, seeing as the person on the other side of the table didn't look like contributing anything at any point. She raised an eyebrow.

'Don't you know?'

'No. Dumbledore said I'd find out when I get here.'

'Then I dare say it will all become clear in time,' she said with a shrug. 'In the meantime, since I'm stuck with you for a few days, you might as well make yourself useful.' She stood up with a slight grunt of effort, and walked over to the window. 'I normally wouldn't let anyone else near my garden, but my joints don't work like they used to and there's a lot of weeding needs to be done.'

She turned back from the window to find Remus staring at her, mouth open, and smiled her irritating little smile again. 'After dinner, of course. You can unpack first, I'll show you to your room.'

Sorely tempted to comment that if dinner was anything like the shortbread he'd rather starve first, he politely said 'thank you' instead and picked up his bag. He ignored the little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sirius and was telling him to tell the daft old bat exactly what he thought of her.

*****

'Ow!'

'Careful,' said George cheerfully, passing with a tray of seedlings. Remus, who had just dropped a hoe on his foot, bit back a retort and merely grunted instead. He picked up the hoe and leant on it, watching George make her way slowly into the house as he got his breath back.

Three days he had been here - three days of back-breaking labour, bad meals and silent evenings in front of the fire - and although he was no nearer to guessing why Dumbledore had sent him here, he had formed a number of observations.

Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, he had discovered that he hated gardening. Loathed it with a fiery passion, in fact, and he had now firmly resolved that if he was ever so fortunate to own a house with a garden, he would pave over it immediately.

Secondly, that living with someone who is obsessed with making sure you eat properly is infinitely preferable to living with someone who was possibly the worst cook on the planet, but who believed she was a wonderful cook. George insisted on mealtimes being strictly adhered to, refused all help in the kitchen, and produced meals that were completely inedible. Remus was beginning to investigate the possibility of sneaking out to the corner shop and sneaking in a supply of biscuits and chocolate to sustain him.

Thirdly, he had discovered that monotonous manual labour, although tiring, was very beneficial to confused minds. He had done some serious thinking - no pun intended - while he was turning over the soil in the back garden, and although he had made no firm decision, he had managed to sort out a few things in his own head. All he had to do now was get out of here and do something about the situation...

Finally, he had spent a good deal of the past three days observing his hostess, and had come to realise that, for all her bluff and bluster, she was not in the best of health. In fact, Remus was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was quite seriously ill. She was doing her best to hide it, but he had had a lot of practice at observing people without them realising it.

Coming back to the here-and-now, he sighed and laid down his hoe. It was nearly time for lunch - actually, looking at his watch, it was past time for lunch - and although the thought didn't fill him with any enthusiasm, George was red-hot on punctuality for meals, and he wasn't really in the mood for a row.

He made his way indoors, trying not to feel angry despite his frustration. But really, what did Dumbledore expect him to do? He still didn't know why he was here, Sirius' birthday was tomorrow, and it didn't look as though George was planning on spilling the beans at any point.

Wiping his hands, he made his way through the utility room, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. The kitchen table was covered in bits of paper, George was sat at the table, eyes closed and snoring gently, and above the sink a radio was crooning peacefully to itself.

'I am dejected, I am depressed,
Yet resurrected, and sailing the crest...'

Remus went back into the passageway, coughed loudly, and made a show of walking very noisily back into the room, giving George time to sit up and collect herself.

'You're early,' she snapped, shuffling her papers together. 'Lunch isn't ready yet.'

'Would you like me to help?' Remus said, deliberately not looking at the clock which showed him to be ten minutes late. 'I'm not a bad cook.'

George hesitated, obviously torn. 'All right,' she snapped eventually. 'You can peel the potatoes for me, I'm sure you can't make too much of a mess out of that. Though looking at the state of my flower beds, I could be mistaken.'

Remus, who had perfected the art of not rising to petty insults many years ago, simply smiled and dug the potato peeler out of the cutlery drawer. He started peeling potatoes, watching George rise creakily from the table out of the corner of his eye, and listening with half an ear to the radio. The singer seemed somewhat confused.

'...Such conflicting questions writhe around in my brain,
Should I order cyanide, or order champagne...?'

'Hah!' he muttered under his breath.

'I'm sorry?' said George. 'What was that?'

'Nothing,' he said cheerfully. 'I sneezed.'

She gave him an odd look but said no more, and Remus returned to his potatoes. 'Well, which is it?' one of the inner Remuses was asking. 'Cyanide or champagne?' He ignored the voice.

'George?' he said instead. 'Have you got anything planned for me this afternoon? Only it looks as though it might be too wet to do much gardening.' He indicated the window, through which black clouds could be seen gathering.

George snorted. 'Don't worry, there's still plenty that needs to be done around the house. Trying to get out of work, are you?'

'Not exactly.' Okay, he was, but not for the reasons she thought.

'Oh? Got something better to do, have you?'

'Yes,' he said, too tired to lie. 'It's my friend's birthday tomorrow, and I was hoping I could go and buy him a birthday present this afternoon. I can send it by owl post this afternoon, it should get there in time.'

George paused, and Remus got the distinct impression that she hadn't been expecting that answer. 'Presumably this isn't something you've just found out about,' she said eventually. 'Why didn't you do it before today?'

Because three weeks ago one of my best friends told me he loved me when he thought I was asleep, I've been avoiding the issue ever since, and, quite frankly, his bloody birthday present was the last thing on my mind...

Remus shrugged. 'I just haven't had time.' Liar, muttered an inner Remus.

Once again, George looked torn. He tried to guess what was going on in her head; getting rid of him would probably be something of a relief, for if she was as ill as he suspected she was, she'd most likely be grateful for a chance to have a lie-down; on the other hand, letting him go would be like letting him win, and that was unthinkable.

Eventually she spoke. 'All right. I don't need you this afternoon. Where will you go? Diagon Alley?'

'Probably not,' he said, unsure if he was relieved or disappointed she was letting him go. 'I was thinking I might try the shops around here.'

George started laughing loudly, a laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit; Remus grew slightly concerned as she seemed unable to stop.

'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' she snapped, breathing deeply and calming down. 'Have you seen the shops around here? You might be better off going to the middle of a field and waiting for a present to drop out of the sky.'

Remus smiled. 'Come on, they can't be that bad.'

'Hmm.' She looked at him shrewdly. 'Why don't you want to go to Diagon Alley?'

'I don't want to Apparate, and you're not connected to the Floo,' he lied quickly. In truth, there were several reasons why he didn't want to go, most of them shopkeepers who had employed him at one time or another, only to let him go when they found out his secret, the most recent being less than two weeks ago. There was also the possibility, however slim, that he might run into Sirius (or James, or Lily, or Peter...) who would demand to know how it was Remus could take time off from his 'super secret mission' to go shopping, but couldn't make it to Sirius' birthday dinner. That was a question he really didn't want to deal with.

'Well,' said George, almost cheerfully, 'you can try the High Street, but don't say I didn't warn you.'

Remus returned to his potatoes. 'Good. I'll go after lunch, then.' He distinctly heard another 'Hmm...' behind him, but he ignored it, turning his attention back to the radio.

'I knew the odds were against me before,
I had no flair for flaming desire.
But since the Gods gave me you to adore,
I may lose, but I refuse to fight the fire...'

*****

He finally snapped over lunch, chewing a rubbery omelette (and what kind of person ate fried potatoes with omelettes anyway?). He was tired, sick of bad food, and he had a real life that he wanted to get back to. Surely Dumbledore hadn't sent him here to garden for a bitter old woman?

'Can I ask you a question, George?' he said, keeping his voice light and smiling gently at her.

She looked at him with deep suspicion. 'What kind of question?'

'Why am I here?' he asked simply. 'What is it Dumbledore wants me to do?'

She raised an eyebrow at him. 'You haven't worked it out yet? Well, it's very simple. I'm dying.'

He looked sharply at her, opening his mouth to say something like 'don't be ridiculous', but closed it again. She gave her tight-lipped smile again. 'You'd most likely guessed as much. My heart, you see. Maybe if I was a 'normal' human being' - and there was still some bitterness in the words - 'I'd have years left in me. But I'm not. I won't last through next month's transformation, I barely survived this last one.'

Feeling awkward, Remus wasn't exactly sure what to say. His first instinct was to ask what any of this had to do with him, but it wasn't exactly the most polite or sympathetic response. She seemed to guess his predicament though, and grinned.

'Don't worry, I've had a good run, years longer than most of 'our kind'.' She snorted. 'As for your role in all of this...well, I wouldn't dare to second guess the great Albus Dumbledore, but you're probably here to get what you can out of me.'

'I don't understand.'

She sighed. 'I don't have any living relatives, and I sure as hell don't have any close friends. I've no idea what will happen to everything I own when I'm dead, as I don't have a will, but you know what? I really don't give a toss, either. But I could make a will leaving everything to the Order, so Dumbledore could have a proper Headquarters to plan his little war in, and money to keep it going.'

'But it isn't just his war,' said Remus, suddenly feeling angry. 'Voldemort affects all of us, wizard, Muggle and werewolf alike, you must see that...'

She waved a hand, cutting him off. 'I know all this. You think I don't know? But I'm going to die before anything has the chance to affect me. Wizards have shunned me all my life, why should I care about them now? Why should I get involved?'

There was a pause; then Remus suddenly asked, 'Why did you write the book?'

Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that. She paused and stared at him. 'What do you mean?'

'Why did you write the book? You don't need the money, so why did you do it if you don't care about anyone else?'

For the first time since he had met her, George looked as though she had absolutely no idea what to say next. She opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, before her expression became closed, as if a shutter had come down.

'Because you never gave up hope,' he said to her, hoping that he wouldn't get his head bitten off for the words. 'Because you wanted to leave something behind you for me and others like us...and because you still hoped that one day we will be accepted for what we are.'

She let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a snort. 'You've got quite the imagination, haven't you?' she said, looking at him carefully. 'Maybe you should be the one writing books.'

He said nothing, just smiled at her, waiting.

Eventually, she spoke again. 'And what, exactly, is the point of all this?'

He shrugged. 'No point. I think I just understand you a little better now, that's all.'

'Well, you just keep telling yourself that, dear,' she said sarcastically. She got up from her seat and carried her plate over to the sink, clearly indicating that the conversation was over.

'I'll stay three more days,' Remus said, watching her carefully. Which just takes me past Sirius' birthday, he added to himself, wanting to avoid seeing everybody until he had got things sorted out in his head.

She turned around and stared at him. 'I'm sorry?'

'I'll stay three more days,' he said, getting up from his own seat and moving to put his plate with the washing up. 'That should give me time to help you put the house and the garden in order...I assume that's what I've been doing? Then I'm going home. If Dumbledore really sent me here to 'get what I can out of you', I've done a pretty poor job and there's really not much point in me staying around here any more, is there?'

She stared at him with deep suspicion. 'You're not going to try to make me leave everything to the Order?'

'Nope.' He smiled cheerfully at her. 'So, a cup of tea before I head to the High Street, I think. Would you like one?'

He moved to put the kettle on, smiling to himself as he heard her 'Hmph' behind him.

*****

Three hours later, Remus was decidedly less cheerful, and was just about ready to give up and head to Diagon Alley. Okay, he hadn't had very high expectations after George's dire predictions, but this was ridiculous. He was aware that a large part of the problem was his extreme reluctance to think about...well, you know...and buying a birthday present for someone you're trying not to think about is a lot harder than it sounds.

The rain was really getting to him now. The borrowed Muggle coat was fairly waterproof, but the hood seemed designed to let as much water as possible trickle down his back. Just as he was seriously considering admitting defeat, the weather made up its own mind and decided to hail. Within a few minutes, hailstones as large as Snitches were thundering down, and fearing for his life, Remus ducked into the nearest shop doorway.

Pulling back his hood, he warily looked around to see what kind of shop he had ended up in. The walls were covered in racks which seemed to be full of large, square, flat objects; another long rack filled the centre of the room. Remus walked over and picked up one of the objects, which proclaimed 'Original Broadway Cast Recording of Oklahoma!' on the front of it, and a Muggle Studies lesson from fourth year came slowly back to him. This must be a record shop. He looked around again, found the shop was completely deserted, and started wandering idly down the aisles, pulling out records at random. Now that he remembered, didn't James and Lily get given a record player at their wedding?

Remembering something that Lily had mentioned more than once, he wandered over to the 'B's and started flicking through the Beatles records...then he stopped and stared.

Five minutes later, the shop owner came through from the back room to find a young man staring at a record as though not seeing it at all. After a couple more minutes had passed, the owner cleared his throat.

'Excuse me, sir? Are you planning on buying that, or just looking at it all day?'

Remus jumped, looked down at the record as if he had only just noticed it was there, and then looked up again.

'Yes...' he said slowly, and then he smiled. 'Yes, I think I will.'

*****

He arrived back to the house with the rain unable to dampen his spirits, and a smile that he couldn't really wipe off his face. The woman in the General Wizards' Store on the High Street had given him a very funny look when he had handed over the package to post, but the act of sending it had lifted a great weight off his shoulders. He whistled slightly as he entered the house, and then stopped, guiltily, as he recognised the tune.

George was waiting for him in the kitchen.

'I'm going to make a new will,' she said, without preamble.

He raised an eyebrow at her, but tried to show no sign of surprise. 'Really?'

'It's nothing to do with you.' She glared at him, as if defying him to contradict her. 'I would have done it anyway. But...you were right.'

He managed to keep his expression serious, knowing how much it was probably costing her to admit it.

'I do still care,' she went on, smiling slightly. 'And I supppose I should do my bit to help, or else I'm no better than they are.'

He grinned. 'You're a wonderful human being, George.' He leaned over, kissed her cheek; then, ignoring the dumbfounded expression on her face, he neatly sidestepped around her and whistled as he headed out to the garden.

It wasn't such a bad day, after all.

*****

Four days later, Remus arrived home laden with tins full of biscuits and cakes that George had refused to let him leave without (which he planned to throw in the bin at the first opportunity), and a vague feeling of apprehension. Apparating into the hall, he first dumped the food in the kitchen and his bag in his bedroom, before calling for Sirius. He didn't really expect an answer, and he didn't get one; the flat had had an empty feel about it as soon as he arrived.

Deciding that the sensible thing to do would be to go straight to Godric's Hollow to find Sirius, he walked into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. He followed this with a sandwich, then an apple, then finally one of George's rock cakes and another cup of tea. He then went and unpacked, taking a great deal of care over folding each item of clothing. Eventually, he could think of no more delaying tactics, and, with a sigh, prepared to Apparate.

He arrived on the Potters' front porch, and was surprised to find the house somewhat dark. He tapped the front door with his wand, and it swung gently open. Moving inside, he called 'hello' softly, and Lily came scurrying into the hall, followed by her husband.

'Remus!' She gave him a tight hug and smiled at him. 'How did it go? Or is it top secret?' He started to tell her, but she interrupted him, waving a hand.

'Never mind all that, you can tell us later. He's in the living room.' Remus stared at her, disbelieving. Was it that obvious? Did they both know? He looked at James, who was looking faintly puzzled.

'Lily and I are going to the pub, we'll be back in a couple of hours.' He paused. 'Look...I don't really know what's going on, no one ever tells me anything' - he glared at Lily - 'but I'd quite like my old best friend back, so sort it out, will you?'

'Come on,' said Lily, grabbing his hand. 'We'll see you later, Remus. And good luck.' She winked at him.

'But...' Before Remus could raise any sort of objection, or indeed form any sort of coherent sentence, they had both left, banging the front door behind them. He stared at the door for a few minutes, before gathering his courage, taking a deep breath and walking into the living room.

Blinking hard to adjust to the relative brightness of the room after the dim hall, he found Sirius sat on the floor, staring at something in his hand. Sirius raised his head at hearing the sound of the door closing, and for a moment he and Remus just stared at each other. Remus was the first to break eye contact.

'Happy birthday,' he told a lamp just behind Sirius' left shoulder. 'Did you...how was it?'

'My birthday?' said Sirius, standing up and walking slowly towards Remus. 'Not bad. I got some good presents. And some puzzling ones.'

'Puzzling ones?' Remus asked, taking a step backwards.

Sirius stopped walking and held up the object in his hands. It was a 12-inch record with a colourful cover and the words 'God Only Knows' and 'The Beach Boys' on the front, and Remus' heart almost stopped on seeing it. He wished he could read the expression on Sirius' face, but for a man who was usually as readable as a large print book, he was adopting a remarkably good poker face.

'You were listening, weren't you,' said Sirius.

'I didn't mean to. It was sort of an accident.'

Sirius nodded. 'Liar,' he said matter-of-factly. 'Eavesdropping like that's going to get you into trouble one day.'

'Clearly.' There was another long pause, and Remus wished desperately that Sirius would give him some sign of what was going on in his head.

'One of us is going to have to say something at some point,' he said eventually, when the silence had become too much to bear.

'I think you just did,' said Sirius, 'but I take your meaning. So...' He waved the record. 'Are you going to tell me what this means?'

Remus paused, still trying to read his expression. Slowly, he asked, 'What do you think it means?'

'Oh no,' said Sirius firmly, 'we're not playing that game. You bought the record, you tell me what it means.'

Remus opened his mouth, closed it, thought for a moment, and then opened it again, but not to answer the question.

'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked instead. Sirius gaped at him.

'I would have thought that was obvious,' he said, sounding surprised.

Remus shrugged. 'I'm slow. Humour me.'

'Well,' he said slowly, 'everything, really. You're one of my best friends, and I didn't want to do anything to jeopardise that. Plus the usual things - you know, embarrassment, fear of humiliation... Basically, I knew I had no chance, and I suppose I was hoping I'd get over it without you ever having to find out.'

Well, here goes nothing, Remus thought to himself, and threw caution to the wind. 'Why did you think you had no chance?'

Sirius looked thunderstruck. 'Because...well, you like girls, don't you? And...' He looked embarrassed. 'You know, the Sock Incident.' You could almost hear the capital letters slotting into place.

'The what?' said Remus, genuinely puzzled.

'The Sock Incident!' Sirius looked hurt. 'You really don't remember it, do you? In fifth year?'

'Sirius, I can safely say that I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.'

He sighed again, looking hesitant. 'One afternoon in fifth year, I was alone in the dormitory, reading a letter that I had just got from...from home. You came in and found me...well...' He paused, looking very reluctant to finish the sentence.

'Crying,' Remus supplied.

'You do remember!' said Sirius, looking shocked.

'Padfoot, that was the afternoon I had my first kiss, and not just from anyone, but from a boy and one of my closest friends. How in the hell did you think I'd forget that? Every detail is indelibly printed on my memory.'

'But...you've never mentioned it since. Not once.'

'Neither have you,' Remus pointed out. 'And what, exactly, does it have to do with socks?'

Sirius waved his hands in the air. 'Because I told you that the reason I had been crying was because I had run out of clean socks. Yes, it was a stupid excuse,' he added, 'but it was the best I could do on the spot. Anyway, you can't have believed me, but you didn't press me. You didn't try to make me tell you what was really wrong. Instead, you just went over to your chest of drawers, took out a pair of socks, and you said I could have them...'

Remus realised his mouth was open and closed it quickly, not wanting to interrupt the flow of words.

'...And I remember that I was just rambling on,' Sirius continued, seemingly unaware that he was doing the same thing again, 'and you just let me ramble, you didn't say anything, just let me talk. And then, you sat down next to me on the bed, and you said...'

Remus, realising that Sirius was going to keep talking forever if unchecked, took a deep breath and decided to stop his friend rambling the same way he had all those years ago. He moved forward, took hold of Sirius' face, and gently kissed his lips.

The kiss was brief, barely lasting a moment, but it had the desired effect. Sirius stopped talking and just stared, mouth hanging open. Remus was severely tempted to laugh, but something told him that it would be a bad idea. Instead he just waited.

After a moment, Sirius appeared to wake up, and a smile appeared on his face. 'Well,' he said slowly, 'I wasn't expecting it this time either.'

Remus smiled back. 'You'd think that after five years, you would have learnt not to be quite so shocked when people kiss you.' His smile widened. 'I can't believe you have a name for it. The 'Sock Incident'?'

Sirius shrugged, looking embarrassed. 'I had to call it something,' he said simply. 'I always associated it with socks.'

'Wait...' said Remus, a memory flashing into his head. Understanding dawned. 'Is that what all that stuff in your best man's speech was about? It was about me?'

Sirius began to laugh. He moved over to the sofa, sank down onto it, and pressed his hands over his face. 'Of course it was about you,' he said, his voice muffled. He brought his hands down again and looked up at Remus, who had stayed where he was, not moving. 'It's always bloody well about you.'

'Now, I find that hard to believe,' said Remus lightly, walking over and sitting on a chair so that he was facing Sirius. They held each others' eyes for a moment, before Sirius frowned and dropped his gaze.

'But...you like girls,' he said eventually, looking like someone trying to come to terms with a new concept. 'Don't you?'

Remus' mouth twisted as he tried not to laugh. Remembering all the times he had just sat and observed Sirius; the way he sat, the way his hair fell over one eye, the way he would chew the corner of his mouth as he sat staring at Transfiguration textbooks, the way he would smile when thinking of some new mischief... Had he really been that oblivious?

'I like girls. And you,' Remus nearly said, but chose instead to ask, 'Padfoot, how many times have you seen me express interest in anyone, boy or girl?'

'Okay, not many. But I always thought that was just because of...' Sirius waved one hand in the air, trying to express himself. The words 'the werewolf thing' remained unspoken, however, and he went on. 'Are you trying to tell me...what are you trying to tell me?'

Remus smiled. 'What do you think I'm trying to tell you? Do you think I'm in the habit of going around kissing my best friends?' he said with amusement.

'But...' Sirius still looked confused. 'But you told me it meant nothing, that we should forget it, and pretend it had never happened...'

'Sirius...'

'Why? If it meant something to you, because Merlin knows it meant something to me, then why the hell didn't you say anything?'

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius was building up a full head of steam now.

'You let me think that you didn't care, that you were disgusted by the whole thing...why didn't you tell me? Why?'

'Because I'm not like you, Sirius!' he burst out, finally getting a word in edgeways. 'I can't...wear my heart on my sleeve the way that you do. I told you it was a mistake because I was scared. Scared of admitting what I felt...who I was.'

'You think it's easy for me?' said Sirius, looking indignant.

'Yes. I do. You never seem to have any problems letting everyone know how you feel. But it's difficult for me...I suppose I just get so used to keeping things to myself that I can't get out of the habit.'

'But it's me. You could tell me.'

'Think about it, Padfoot,' Remus said dryly. 'You were the last person I could tell. Besides, I might have done eventually - I had to sort of work up to it - but two days later, you announced that you were in love with Alistair.'

Sirius gave a rueful smile. 'I was trying to make you jealous.' Remus stared at him, incredulous - then he began to laugh. For some reason, the idea struck him as hysterically funny, and he curled up in his armchair, and laughed and laughed. Sirius looked at him as though he had cracked. 'I'm not saying that I didn't genuinely like him,' he added, 'but I probably wouldn't have told you all if I wasn't looking for a reaction. I gather it didn't work?'

'No, it worked,' said Remus, pulling himself together. 'It drove me nuts.' They looked at each other for a moment, but this time, Remus was the first to break eye contact. 'I almost told you how I felt,' he admitted, 'but then...'

'But then, what?'

'Snape,' Remus said simply.

Sirius exhaled and rubbed his hand across his face. 'I'm going to be saying sorry for that the rest of my life, aren't I?'

'It's not a question of saying sorry. Do you have any idea...no, never mind, you probably don't. But I nearly killed another human being, Padfoot - and don't even think of saying it wouldn't have been me,' he added, seeing Sirius open his mouth. 'It doesn't make any difference in the eyes of the Ministry, and it doesn't make any difference to me. I understand why you did it, and I've forgiven you...but I can't forget. Please don't ask me to forget.'

'I really blew my chances after that.' It was a statement, not a question.

Remus had to laugh at that. 'Just slightly. If I couldn't trust you to keep my secret, how could I trust you not to break my heart? It took me a long time before I could trust you again. To tell the truth,' he added, seeing Sirius' look of hope, 'I'm still not sure I trust you fully now.'

'I suppose I deserve that. I'll just have to keep working at it, then, won't I?' There was another lengthy pause. 'So what happens now?' Sirius finally ventured. 'Do we...does this have any kind of chance?'

Remus simply looked at him; at the features he knew off by heart, at the familiar grey eyes, at the hair that could seriously do with a trim, at the mouth that seemed designed to grin impishly; but most of all, he looked at the expression on the familiar face, a sort of mingled hope and fear. He knew what the answer would be. In a way, he couldn't give any other answer. There was no way he could disappoint the face in front of him, he never could. But there was no point in letting him win too easily.

He sighed. 'I don't know. I don't know if I can trust you.'

'You can, I promise.'

'And you've got to promise not to mother me, to treat me like a kid and make me eat my vegetables.'

'Hand on my heart, I promise I will treat you like a grownup and an equal.'

'And things can never go back to the way they were, you know. Our friendship's probably destroyed forever now.'

Sirius nodded solemnly.

'So...' said Remus. 'I've got nothing to lose, really, have I?' He watched Sirius frowning for a moment, before smiling gently. 'That was a 'yes', by the way.'

Sirius' face erupted in an ear-splitting grin and he leapt up from the sofa. He hesitated, though, and said doubtfully, 'Are you sure?'

Remus wasn't, but he wasn't going to tell Sirius that. Instead, he kept his face carefully composed as he also stood up and moved closer. He shrugged. 'Pretty sure. Are you?'

Sirius' grin widened. 'Never been surer of anything.'

Suddenly aware of just how close they were standing, Remus swallowed, and waited for Sirius to close the gap. Closing his eyes, he suddenly felt hands on his neck and warm lips meeting his own. Gentle at first, breath tickling his top lip; and then harder, hungrier, mouths opening as if searching for a way to get even closer...

As if from nowhere, a voice appeared at the back of his mind. He'll only hurt you, you know, said one of the inner Remuses, disapproving.

'I know,' he replied silently.

He'll break your heart.

'Very possibly.'

So why are you doing this?

Remus mentally shrugged, and gave himself up to the kiss. 'God only knows.'