Three Acts

Three Acts

The Middle

Remus was asleep when Sirius got home, which was nothing unusual. He'd settled down on the sofa with his large blanket and hot chocolate and begun to wait for Sirius, although he wasn't holding out much hope that he'd be home before three - he hadn't, any other night, and there was no reason to believe that tonight would be any different.

Sirius lurched in at exactly 3:13, in the exaggerated manner of someone who thinks he isn't drunk but most decidedly is.

"S'just me, Moony," he whispered loudly. "Just me!"

Remus opened a sleepy eye. "You're late again," he complained.

"Sorry, I went out with some of the blokes from work and it got a bit heated, y'know..." Sirius sniffed loudly and threw himself down onto the sofa beside Remus, grasping at a bit of blanket and pulling it over himself. The smell of cigarette smoke was clinging to his hair, and his leather jacket was cold against Remus' bare arms.

"Yeah, I know," Remus said, despite the fact that he didn't. Twenty-one and without a decent job; it didn't bode well. He hated to admit it, but it was Sirius who kept him off the streets, with his inheritance from his uncle and his well-paid Auror job. He had to admit that he knew nothing about going out for a drink with colleagues and losing track of the time, seeing as he'd never been at a job long enough to make friends with the other workers.

Sirius snuggled up against him, head resting messily on Remus' shoulder, hair wild and up Remus' nose. He wrinkled it and swatted the hair away, unable to resist combing his fingers over Sirius' messy black head. "Tired, Pads?" he asked softly.

Sirius nodded and then yawned widely. "You going to bed, Moony?"

"Yeah, if you'll come with me."

"Course I will," Sirius said, "'M tired."

Remus stood, and Sirius blinked up at him. "Help me up?" he asked.

"Sure." Remus extended a hand and helped to heave Sirius up off the sofa. He half-toppled upwards and righted himself, laughing breathlessly.

"Like a fucking rollercoaster, eh, Moony?" he said, his breath warm and whisky-scented on Remus' cheek.

"Yeah," Remus agreed, with only a tinge of bitterness. "A giant fucking rollercoaster."

Sirius began to lurch towards the bedroom, still shaky. Remus wondered vaguely if his legs were about to give way, and looped himself under Sirius' arm just in case. Finally he was deposited onto the bed, and lay flat on his back as Remus undid his laces and tugged off his boots.

"It's a clear night tonight," Sirius told him absently as Remus worked on the laces of his left boot. "S'weird, really, in London, the sky's usually foggy, but tonight it was nice... all velvety, like you could fly up and stroke it..."

"Well, it's often like that in the summer, isn't it, Pads?" Remus asked abstractedly as he finally yanked the left boot off. "Sit up." He helped Sirius out of his jacket and slung it across a chair, glancing out of the window. Sirius was right; it was a clear night, and there was a chilly breeze drifting along on the summer air. He pulled down the window and let it fall with a thud, feeling suddenly exhausted. The moon was waxing, it'd be full next week... he sighed quietly, and said, "You feeling all right?"

"Fine, fine..." Sirius mumbled as he burrowed into his pillow. Just to be certain, Remus went into the kitchen and grabbed a bucket; most people had either pukey or headachy hangovers, and Sirius tended to chuck up when he'd been out on a bender. Remus didn't fancy having to clear up puke the next morning.

Finally Remus climbed into bed beside Sirius; the other man was already asleep, and curled instinctively closer to him. Remus stretched out on his back, hands behind his head, and thought, when the war's over. When the war's over, this will all be all right again. When the war's over and Sirius isn't so stressed and Lily and James and Harry are out of danger, he'll stop drinking and coming home as late and it'll be just like before. Just like before.

His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that he wished he could convince himself.

===

The next morning, Remus wandered barefoot into the kitchen to find Sirius already there, drooped over a bowl of cereal, his cigarette dripping ash onto the lino on the floor. When he saw Remus enter, he held up the cigarette as a sort of salute.

"Morning, Moony," he said, the words only sounding slightly heavy and laboured.

"Morning, Pads," Remus said, and stifled a yawn. "How're you feeling?"

Sirius made a sour face. "Like shit. I'm disgustingly hungover, don't come near me."

"Ah, right." Remus began to slice bread. "What time did you get up?"

Sirius shrugged. "Dunno, I was too busy throwing up to look at a clock. I'd say seven-ish."

"Nice," Remus said dryly.

"Mmm, very much so. What time did I get in last night?" Sirius took a long drag of his cigarette and looked enquiringly at Remus over the wreath of smoke that followed.

"Er, about quarter past three, I think."

"That's late. Sorry."

"That's all right." Remus thought that he seemed to spend most of his life listening to Sirius apologising and telling him it was all right.

"You didn't wait up, did you?"

"Yeah, but it was okay." Remus shrugged. "I'm used to it by now."

"You haven't had to do it since fifth year!" Sirius protested. "No reason for you to start again now."

"Well," Remus pointed out, half-smiling, "I didn't have to do it then. I wanted to. Still do, in fact."

Sirius stubbed the cigarette out and stood, wandering over to Remus' side. "You're too good for me, Moony," he said, peering over Remus' shoulder at the bread he was slicing.

Remus grinned. "I know."

Sirius swatted lightly at him, and then seemed to change his mind, draping his arms over Remus' shoulders instead, his hair tickling his ear. His hand covered Remus' as he unwrapped his fingers carefully from around the knife. "Put it down," he breathed, and Remus consented quickly, rolling his head backward to place a swift kiss on the side of Sirius' jaw. He smelt of cigarette smoke and toothpaste and his hands were sliding down the front of Remus' pyjama bottoms measuredly and slowly, taking his time, as if he knew every contour of Remus' body off by heart (which, incidentally, he did). Remus shifted around so he was facing Sirius, who was now gripping the counter, one arm on either side of Remus.

"You're trapped," he whispered, with a hint of a smile.

Remus felt his own lips curve upwards as he said, "Good."

===

Two days later, they went over to James and Lily's house, for Harry's first ever birthday party. After agonising for days, Sirius had bought him a large stuffed lion with a red-and-gold scarf around its neck, and Remus had calmly decided on a soft cloth set of children's books.

James had optimistically decided to have a Muggle-style barbecue, and was hopelessly frazzled when they arrived, hissing, "The sodding burgers won't defrost!" in a desperate sort of voice.

Sirius clapped him on the back and said, "I'm sure they'll be fine," and wandered into the back garden. Remus hovered for a moment longer as James muttered in an agonised voice and chipped ice off the sausages, finally said "Shout if you need a hand," and followed Sirius.

Lily was in the centre of the garden, sprawled on a tartan picnic rug with Harry beside her. Remus could see a cluster of people at the end of the garden, but Sirius was next to Harry and Lily, so he made a beeline for them.

"Remus!" Lily glanced up at him and smiled brightly. Remus thought, not for the first time, that if he fancied girls she'd definitely be his type. Then he banished those thoughts in case James had mastered Legilimency, heard his thoughts, and decided to kill him.

"Hello, Lily," he grinned, and slumped down next to her. "Hello, Harry!" He waved at him.

Harry smiled in response, made a gurgling noise, and swatted at Remus' hand.

"Wave hello," Lily told him. Remus felt a brief moment of confusion and raised his hand to wave again, before Lily grabbed hold of Harry's and waggled it at him.

"Idiot, Moony," Sirius said sunnily from behind him.

Remus reached over and poked him in the stomach, and then turned back to Lily. "So, what's his birthday been like so far?" he asked.

Lily nodded. The sunlight had caught her red hair, and it shone around her face. "It's been great, thanks. Until the arrival of my foul sister, everything's been going wonderfully."

"What's she done?" Sirius said loudly.

"Shh." Lily glanced over at the huddle of people at the end of the garden. "She'll hear you and then she'll kill us all. Her and her astonishingly ugly brat."

"What's his name again?" Remus asked.

"Christ knows." Lily made a face at the afore-mentioned brat. "Uglyface, it should be."

"That's not nice."

"Well, neither's he. Harry's much more handsome, aren't you, darling?" Lily pressed a kiss onto Harry's cheek.

Remus had to agree with her. The blond baby at the end of the garden had gone purple with rage and started to howl. He fought the urge to dash its head against the patio.

"He is, Lil," Sirius said, sitting up and shifting over. "Takes after his godfather, if you ask me."

Lily tried to scowl, but ended up smiling at him. "Shut up, you great prat."

Sirius grinned back at her. "Shut up, yourself."

It was at that point that James ran out of the kitchen holding a bundle of flames and yelling loudly. Lily swore underneath her breath and thrust Harry at Remus. "Watch him for a moment, will you?" She got up and jogged towards James, who'd thrown the flames into a rainwater barrel and was stamping furiously on a smouldering oven glove.

"He's mad," said Sirius flatly.

"Yes," Remus agreed. He'd known it for years, and was somewhat surprised to realise that it was only now that Sirius was realising the full extent of James' insanity. Harry began to crawl towards Remus and onto his lap. A whole year, Remus thought vaguely. A whole year that this creature had been in the world, the little boy who had James' hair and Lily's eyes, who was a product of both but another person entirely. James' son.

It was almost difficult to comprehend, the idea of James being a father. James, who couldn't cook or tame his hair, who'd evidently just set the sausages on fire, who was crap at Potions, had a son. It was unthinkable, but Remus thought that he seemed to be doing a good job so far. Harry grabbed onto Remus' collar and giggled madly, so Remus tickled him under the chin until he let go.

He looked up to see Sirius gazing at them with a funny mixture of sadness and pride and something that Remus couldn't quite distinguish. "What is it?" he said softly.

Sirius shook his head, and looked as if he wanted to say something but was unable to do so. "Nothing," he said finally.

For a moment Remus wondered when they'd stopped being able to talk to each other, but was abruptly distracted by Harry kneeing him in the groin.

===

They went home on Sirius' motorcycle the Muggle way, and screeched around corners in a highly dangerous sort of way that made Remus swallow heavily and bury his face in the back of Sirius' jacket.

"You're sure you're all right to drive?" he shouted into Sirius' ear.

"Fine, fine," said Sirius, waving a hand dismissively and nearly veering off the road. Even his jacket smelt of whisky, Remus noted dismally.

"Why wasn't Pete there today?" he asked loudly, over the hum of the motorcycle.

"He was with his girlfriend," Sirius shouted back. "They're on a romantic weekend, or something. Shag shag shag all the time, I suppose. She won't be able to walk when they get home."

Remus winced. "Nice mental pictures there."

Sirius laughed, somewhat wildly. Remus tightened his arms around his waist and prayed for safety.

They were silent until they reached their flat, where the lift was broken - again - so they had to tramp up four flights of stairs. By the fourth flight they were both panting and Remus had to drag a reluctant Sirius up the last few steps by the hand. "Levitate me," he begged, "I'm too tired and drunk to climb any more stairs."

"If you were that drunk," Remus contradicted him, "you'd be refusing to admit you were. Now get a bloody move on!"

By the time they'd reached the flat and Remus had fiddled with the obstinate key for a few minutes, Sirius appeared to have fully recovered his vigour, and was nibbling Remus' earlobe enthusiastically. Remus pushed his head away with the hand that wasn't working at the key. "Get the fuck off me, you mad thing," he laughed quietly, "for God's sake, we're only just legal here, the neighbours'll complain."

"Let them," Sirius said, his voice muffled because his face was pressed into Remus' neck. "I don't care."

"Well, I do." Remus was having a distinct problem trying to convince himself of that, let alone Sirius, who was vigorously molesting him, so he was grateful when the key finally turned and they both fell into the flat. Sirius fell on him immediately, beginning to unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt, sucking tiny purple bruises down Remus' chest until Remus shoved him away and began to take off Sirius' shirt. It was just like it always had been, slightly messy but always explosive, and Remus took some comfort in that - maybe things weren't changing quite as much as he feared they were, and --

Sirius crawled back up his body, jabbing fingers into the marks he'd left on Remus' skin. "I've marked you now, see," he said, slightly out of breath. "And you don't need any other marks now, do you? Because you're mine."

His eyes were fiery and angry and sad all of a sudden, and Remus said, "What the hell are you on about?" Sirius still looked heated and disconsolate, so Remus caught hold of his hands and said, "I'm yours. Of course I'm yours, you know I am, I've been yours ever since that first night in fifth year. I always will be. And you'll be mine, too."

"You know I will be," Sirius said vehemently, his fingernails leaving little white ridges on Remus' hands as he squeezed them too tight. "And don't you forget that, Moony, I swear, if you fucking forget..."

Remus frowned up at him. "I won't. Just relax." He tugged a hand through Sirius' knotty hair gently; that usually helped to calm him down, slightly, and Sirius took a deep breath, bowing his head slightly.

"'M sorry, Moony, it's just that--it's just that sometimes I get scared, all right? Sometimes I think that maybe I love you too much, I'd do too much for you." Sirius exhaled, very shakily, and pressed a hand on Remus' cheek.

Remus reached up and grabbed hold of the hand. "I wouldn't ask you to do anything you didn't want to, you know that."

"I know. I know, I really do." Sirius' eyes were still conflicted, but Remus kissed him anyway. When they pulled away from each other, Sirius said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Remus said, trying to smile.

===

The next night, Sirius was home late again. Remus put him to bed and put a bucket next to his head; it was becoming like a routine, a sequence, and when he awoke at five o'clock to hear Sirius retching violently beside him, he thought, is this it? Is this what the stories wrote about? A cycle of late nights and whisky and forgiveness and sex? Is this love?

He knew that he loved Sirius, knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt, had known it, albeit hesitatingly, since that first morning when he'd woken up with Padfoot beside him. He wasn't so sure if Sirius loved him, though. At one point, definitely, at another, probably, but now? He didn't know. Probably, yeah, in a weird, conflicting sort of way that was altogether Sirius, but he didn't know if it was the sort of love that was right, the sort that he should accept.

And then there was the matter of that strange conversation when they'd got home the other night, about marking and ownership and desperation, and Remus was sure he didn't know what the hell that had been about.

The alcohol. Sirius drank to forget, he had once said, and Remus believed him. He almost wished that he could do the same. Life was difficult to believe at the moment, with Lily and James and Harry in constant danger, and the Dark Lord on the rise, and friends and family dropping dead around them. Death was a strange thing, black and endless and pointless, and it was horrible to think of Gideon and Fabian and Marlene trapped in its depths. Even more horrible to think that Remus' closest friends, James or Pete or Lily or, heaven forbid, Sirius, might die at some point. Well, eventually they would do, everyone did, but now?

They were too young, all of them, too vibrant and happy and full of life, it was impossible that they could die, he told himself very strictly. He rolled over, and shoved at his pillow, tucking a hand underneath it. Sirius appeared at the doorway, back from the bathroom.

"Feeling better?" Remus asked.

Sirius nodded silently and got into bed beside him.

Remus thought again, is this love? Being woken up by him puking at five in the morning because he's stupid enough to go out and get blisteringly drunk every night? And not minding?

"Good night," Sirius said softly.

Remus didn't reply.

===

They went to Lily and James' house again the next evening, after work. Peter was there as well. All five of them and Harry crowded into the living room, like old times, but with a baby who kept balancing precariously on one leg and trying to undo people's laces.

After some time, James and Sirius went outside to smoke their foul-smelling roll-ups, and Peter went to make some tea, and Remus found himself alone with Lily in the front room. He'd noticed that she kept looking at him with some concern, green eyes narrowed slightly over Harry's head, who was sitting on her lap and tugging on her necklace.

Finally he said, irritably, "What is it?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, don't worry."

"No," he countered, "you keep looking at me in a really funny way. Like I've done something, or you feel sorry for me. Which is it, then?"

"Neither!" she said, too quickly, and then sighed. "I just... what's up at the moment? With you and Sirius, I mean."

"Nothing," he told her. She raised her eyebrows, and he heard himself laugh. "Really, nothing! You worry too much."

"Maybe," she said doubtfully, "but there's definitely something going on that I don't know about."

"There's nothing," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "Nothing, I promise."

She regarded him for a moment, and then dodged as Harry made for one of her earrings. "Stop it, darling," she said softly to him, and then looked back up at Remus. "I don't believe you," she finally said.

"Well, in that case you're insanely suspicious," Remus said.

"Maybe I am," Lily replied, sounding slightly defeated. "But I still don't believe you."

"Well," Remus said, "there's nothing I can do to make you believe me."

"No," she agreed, "but I hope you know that you can talk to me if you want to."

He reached across and took her hand, squeezing it for a second. "Thanks, Lil. I do appreciate that, you know."

She nodded, still looking slightly worried, but was abruptly distracted by Harry bashing the top of his head against her chin.

Peter came back in. "Sorry, Lily, but I've totally forgotten where the sugar is," he said apologetically.

Lily turned round, and smiled at him. "In the holder above the kettle," she informed him. "If you still can't find it, I'll show you."

"Thanks." Peter disappeared again.

"There is something," Remus confessed, after a pause.

"I knew it," Lily said calmly, and Remus was struck all over again by how different she was from any of his other friends. "Tell me."

Remus took a deep breath. "He's home late every night and he drinks too much even though it makes him chuck up which, let's face it, is just gross, and he smokes during meals and he keeps talking about this girl from the office and he's got really distant and we're always arguing and it's just like a constant round of him getting pissed and then saying sorry and me saying it's okay and I just don't think it's working anymore."

Lily was silent for a moment, and then said, "Oh, Remus."

"You think I'm doing something wrong?" Remus said quickly. "Because this is just a rough patch, I know it is, but it's really starting to piss me off."

"You're not doing anything wrong, I promise you that," she said softly. "I just... well, you've heard that they think there's a mole in the Order, haven't you?"

Remus nodded. "Of course, but I don't see how it's connected to -- "

"Shut up for a second," she said, strictly. "It's just that, well, James and Sirius think that it's... it's..."

As if on cue, Peter stuck his head around the door again and said, "Lily, I can't see it anywhere."

She cast another glance at Remus and then stood. "I'll talk to you later," she said, and Remus could detect a shadow of relief in her voice as she deposited Harry onto the floor. Remus waved dejectedly at the little boy, and then sat down on the floor opposite him as Harry grinned gappily back at him and began to determinedly crawl over to him.

When Sirius and James came back in, talking and laughing loudly, they weren't very surprised when they saw Harry curled up in Remus' lap as he told the little boy a fairytale about two princes from long ago.

===

The next morning when Sirius came into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and fished a plastic bag of tobacco out of his dressing-gown pocket, Remus said sternly, "Don't."

Sirius looked surprised. "Why?"

"I hate it when you smoke at the table. It makes everything taste like ash," Remus told him.

"You never mentioned it before."

"Well, now I have."

Sirius frowned, and slid the bag back into his pocket. "In that case, I'm going out on the balcony for a fag."

"You do that," Remus said tightly, and watched Sirius slope out of the kitchen. He looked faintly ridiculous in the blue dressing-gown; it had been Remus' Christmas present from his mother the year before Harry was born - it was odd how Remus found himself measuring time by such grown-up things, like 'a month before James and Lily got married' or 'a year after we bought the flat' - and Sirius had promptly stolen it because it looked cosy.

Now Remus thought about the way Sirius took his things without asking, and how he finished the cornflakes and put the box back in the cupboard, and how he never cleaned up after himself, and how he always expected Remus to be in a good mood, and how he never emptied out his ashtrays, and how he couldn't cook to save his life, and felt his blood boil.

By the time Sirius came back in, he was in a toweringly bad mood.

Sirius wandered over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. It splashed onto the counter, but Sirius didn't bother to clean it up. As he sat down at the table, Remus stood up and began to swab at the juice with a wet cloth.

"What're you doing?" Sirius asked, sounding genuinely bewildered.

"It'll get sticky," Remus told him grimly. "We'll get ants."

"Oh."

Remus sat down again and opened the Daily Prophet. He noticed vaguely that Sirius had already taken the most interesting sections, and gritted his teeth. Sirius had started to eat Remus' toast, and as Remus tried to concentrate on an article about a Death Eater raid on Hogsmeade, he could hear crunching noises coming from Sirius' direction.

It was possibly, he thought, the most annoying sound in the world. He couldn't understand how one man could make that much noise when he ate.

Finally, he'd had enough.

He stood again, and said, "I'm going to read the paper in the living room."

Sirius turned dark blue eyes up at him and said, "If you want."

He could feel those dark eyes trained on his back as he left the kitchen.

===

Two nights later, Padfoot, Prongs and Moony roamed wild on the nearest moors. It was just the same as normal, except that Wormtail wasn't there; it was his anniversary with his girlfriend, and they all agreed that she should take preference over Moony. After all, they said, there'd be a lifetime of full moons, but only one anniversary.

Moony's wolfish mind felt secure in the company of the elegant stag and gambolling dog; when he woke, although he was in pain, Remus felt strangely calm and relaxed. Sirius was sitting on the side of the ramshackle bed they'd put up in an old hut, running his fingers gently over Remus' left forearm in a soft, tickling, comforting sort of way, and James was standing at the window, hands braced on the windowsill, his silhouette lean and dark.

"Morning," Remus said sleepily.

Sirius dropped his arm quickly. Still, Remus thought drowsily, still Sirius was afraid of showing affection towards him in front of James. It was silly, really, after all these years.

"How're you feeling?" James bounded over to the bed, his face a picture of concern.

"Good, thanks." Remus began to push himself up onto his elbows, feeling his head spin slightly as he did so. Sirius watched him silently, eyes unfathomable pits, and only offered a flicker of a grin when Remus smiled warmly at him.

Remus took a deep breath to stop himself from going dizzy. "What was last night like?"

"Fine," James said airily. "Not much different from normal, really. Although you did kill a rabbit."

"Well, well," Remus mused, surveying his hands. They weren't too scratched, but were traced with very thin pinkish lines where the wolf had gone tramping through brambles. His muscles were screaming, of course, but it was no comparison to what he'd gone through before his friends had become Animagi.

Later that morning, James drove them back to London very carefully in Lily's small red Mini. Remus sat in the front seat next to him, feeling slightly nauseous, and Padfoot curled up sulkily in the back seat and went to sleep.

"What's up with him lately?" James said in a loud whisper, gesturing at Padfoot and nearly veering off the road.

Remus closed his eyes until James had righted the car, and finally said, "I don't know. He'll be fine once all the danger's gone."

"Yeah, but when's that going to be?" James said, eyes fixed carefully on the road.

Remus leaned his head back onto the headrest. "I have no idea. Hopefully soon."

James glanced sideways at him. "Is there anything going on between you two?" His voice sounded troubled but warm.

"What, like an argument?"

"Yeah."

Remus thought of Sirius' cold blue eyes and said, simply, "I don't think he loves me anymore."

James spluttered and nearly swerved off the road again. "What?"

Remus smiled absently. All of a sudden he felt thoroughly parted from the situation, as if he was a casual observer looking in on the life that he shared with Sirius. "I don't think he loves me anymore," he said vaguely. "It doesn't matter, though. We'll stay together until one of us kicks the other out, and I don't think that's going to be happening any time soon." He sighed. "I don't think he cares, really, not any more."

James said, "Remus. Of course he cares. He's Sirius."

Remus said, "So what?"

And no matter how hard he listened for one, James didn't seem to be able to make an answer.

===

"We're considering a Fidelius charm," Lily said, with a careful look at James. "To keep our location a secret, at least until the risk's gone. It'll be a big step but we think it's the only way to keep safe."

James nodded. Remus noticed that at some point his hand had sneaked over to rest on Lily's. "We need a Secret-Keeper, the only person who could reveal our location. And so long as the Secret-Keeper keeps the secret, we'll be safe." He sighed. "Obviously it's going to be one of you lot, isn't it? After Diana dying -- " Lily winced at the memory of her best friend's death " -- you're basically the people we love and trust most in the world, as much as I hate to admit it." He smiled grimly.

Peter's face was pale and drawn. "My God, are you sure that you really want to go to these lengths?"

"It's not for us," Lily said, "it's for Harry." She cast a glance over at her son, who was sitting in front of the fireplace, intent on banging a building block with a rubber hammer. "You've got to understand that the most important thing is keeping him safe. Once you've got a baby everything changes. We can't take any more chances. We want to be around to watch him grow up; for heaven's sake, we've got to make sure he grows up at all." She rubbed a hand tiredly over her forehead. "We're going to put the charm into place probably mid to late October; it has to be in place by Hallowe'en, that's the night the Death Eaters like to cause real havoc."

Sirius let out a long breath. "Well, if you're sure, you two."

"We've discussed it," said James, "and we are."

He didn't look like James anymore, Remus thought with a sudden pang, realising all of a sudden that he didn't know this man at all, with his steady hazel eyes and too-lined face and pretty wife, that he no longer bore any resemblance to the carefree James Potter that he'd known during school. Remus wondered for a moment if they thought the same of him, that he'd changed beyond almost all recognition and practically become another person entirely.

Next to Remus, Sirius stood up abruptly and caught James in a clumsy hug that involved a lot of embarrassed backslapping. He muttered something that Remus didn't catch into James' ear, who nodded vigorously as they pulled away from each other.

Remus felt his stomach twist suddenly, and thought, this is all changing too quickly. They were growing up, all of them, James and Lily drawing into each other and their son, and Peter spending all of his time with his girlfriend, and Sirius getting more and more abrupt and passionate in turns, and Remus was left behind, somehow.

He forced a smile onto his face, though, and said, "That's a great idea, Lily," and kissed her on the cheek, still with that horrible leaden sensation in his stomach that meant that nothing was great, really, and he wasn't expecting that to change for a long time.

===

Later that night, Remus and Sirius stood on their balcony and gazed into the sky. Somehow they seemed to have regained some of the old easiness between them with the wine they'd downed at the Potters' and the evening of what had mostly been pleasant, nostalgic, sepia-tinted conversation.

It had been particularly cloudless recently, the sky a deep inky colour instead of musty grey or brown, and they could see the stars, little pinpricks of light surrounding the half-full moon. Suddenly Remus gasped as Sirius slipped his hands over his eyes.

"Don't do that, you prat," he muttered, trying to elbow Sirius, but he somehow managed to stay out of the way, and Remus could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Stay still."

His body was pressed almost flat against Remus', who let himself relax into it, feeling the hard planes of Sirius' chest against his back.

"Okay, I'm going to uncover your eyes in a second and you're going to look up, and pick out the first star you see. And then you'll make a wish," Sirius murmured into Remus' ear. "Say the rhyme."

"Star light," said Remus softly, suddenly caught up in what felt like a fairytale, "star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight."

Sirius let go of him, and he immediately squinted up into the sky, seizing on the first star he saw, and thought, let us be okay. Let us live through this. Let him keep loving me.

He looked down for a moment and then looked up again, to see if the star had flickered in the way that meant it had granted his wish, and smiled to see that it had.

"Did you make one?" he asked Sirius.

"Oh, yeah."

"What was it?"

"If I tell you it won't come true, will it?" Sirius was smiling, his teeth white as a wolf's in the moonlight.

"Did your star flicker?"

Sirius shrugged. "I didn't look."

"Why not?" Remus frowned.

"In case it hadn't," Sirius said grimly. "Listen, I'm going inside, all right? It's getting cold."

In Remus' opinion it wasn't, and he was the one who usually felt the cold, but he nodded docilely anyway. "I'm going to stay out for another few minutes."

"Suit yourself." Sirius turned away, disappearing into the flat. Remus felt himself shiver, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He didn't realise how long he'd spent outside until he entered their bedroom forty-five minutes later to see Sirius sprawled on the bed and soundly asleep, bare-chested, the white sheets that were draped over his hips just about keeping him decent.

For a moment, Remus considered stripping off and getting in beside him. Instead, he decided to sleep on the couch.

===

The next couple of months continued in much the same vein. Sirius came back late and drunk most nights, and after a while Remus stopped waiting up for him. It was okay, sort of, seeing him first thing in the morning twitching at not smoking and going outside onto the balcony, and not curling up to him in bed at night, and not talking or laughing or kissing.

Really, it was fine, and probably for the best. They hadn't talked about it, but over the months they'd drifted apart somehow. Every time Remus opened his mouth to say something it sounded false, and Sirius seemed to have decided not to speak at all. In late September, he told Remus gruffly that Lily and James had begun to make the preparations for the Fidelius Charm, and said no more about it until he arrived home surprisingly early at half past seven on the thirtieth of October.

"We've done it," he said, slinging his jacket onto a chair. "It's all done."

Remus raised his head. It was the first time that he'd talked properly to Sirius in days. "What is?"

"The Fidelius Charm. They've gone into hiding." Sirius sat down heavily on the armchair opposite Remus, swiping a tired hand across his forehead. "It's done," he repeated, as if to himself.

"Good," Remus nodded. "Great."

"Yeah, it's a relief," Sirius agreed, and then fell silent. Remus gazed at him for a couple more seconds, and continued to read.

He could feel Sirius' eyes on him, and finally said, still gazing at his book, "What?"

There was a catch in Sirius' voice when he said, "I miss us."

Remus looked up. Sirius was twisting a paper tissue in his hands, fingers brown against the white, and for a moment he remembered what those hands felt like against his skin. "I miss us too," he finally ventured.

Sirius nodded, dipping his head down, and swallowed. "I know this is all fucked up, Moony," he said to his chest, "but we've got to stick together, right?"

"Right," Remus agreed quickly. "Of course we do."

"Mm-hm." Sirius began to shred the tissue absent-mindedly, stacking all the pieces together in a neat pile. "I do love you, you know," he said abruptly after a moment. "I know I've been - well, distant - recently, but I do love you."

"I know," Remus said, his voice coming out foreign and husky. He coughed to clear his throat, and repeated, "I know you do."

Sirius nodded. "Good," he said, in a very quiet voice, and then, more loudly, "It's me, I'm their Secret-Keeper, you know."

"Lily and James'?" Remus asked. Of course it was Sirius, there had never really been a choice. The bravest of them, the most loyal, the one who loved so deeply and madly that he'd never been able to extricate himself from anyone or anything.

"Yeah," Sirius said. "I'm their Secret-Keeper."

"Right," Remus said, eyeing Sirius. He seemed to be breathing erratically and he'd started shredding the pieces of tissue into even smaller fragments. "Well, good luck with that," he said finally, feebly.

"Thanks." In one jerky, convulsive movement, Sirius had moved over to the space on the sofa next to Remus, and had grabbed hold of his hand, holding it far too tight. Remus felt a wave of shock at the sudden contact, and a sort of relief flowed over him as he shifted slightly to face the other man. "I really have missed you, Moony," Sirius whispered, his eyes impossibly blue, and kissed him.

It was as clumsy and imperfect as the first time, but Remus couldn't bring himself to mind; he felt as though he was drowning in the touch and taste of Sirius, as if he'd been in withdrawal from him for the last couple of months and he was finally getting his reward.

"I've missed you too," Remus muttered as they pulled away from each other, and realised that he'd never known how true that was until then.

"Of course you did," Sirius said, face breaking out into a brilliant smile, and began very carefully to unbutton Remus' shirt. "I'd miss me too."

Remus laughed and swatted at the side of Sirius' messy black head. "Prat."

"Wanker," Sirius replied laughingly as Remus undid the zip on his jeans. His breath hitched suddenly as Remus' hand closed around him and he muttered, "Oh, fuck, Moony..."

"Mmhm," Remus replied, muffled, as he pushed Sirius backwards, suddenly desperate to get at him. Sirius' expression turned from a grin to one of shock as he overbalanced and toppled off the sofa onto the floor. Remus felt himself falling after him, and landed squarely on Sirius' stomach.

"Way to break the mood, Moony," he muttered, raising a sceptical eyebrow at Remus.

"Shut up," Remus said, and kissed him again.

===

The next day was Hallowe'en, so the Aurors were on red alert. Sirius refused to leave the fire in the front room in case someone stuck their head into it, saying that he was needed, so Remus sat with him and plied him with tea and biscuits despite the fact that Sirius kept saying he wasn't hungry.

At half past six the next morning, after a sleepless and worried night, Sirius realised with a roar of frustration that he'd run out of cigarette papers, and stormed down to the local corner shop after kissing Remus hard on the cheek and saying he'd be back soon.

When he wasn't back by nine, Remus began to worry.

When the Daily Prophet slid through the door at eleven, saying that James and Lily were dead, betrayed, and that Sirius Black had been arrested early that morning for breaking their Fidelius Charm and killing Peter and blowing up a street full of Muggles, Remus thought dimly that he should have realised before.

There was a picture of Sirius, laughing wildly, the whites of his eyes showing, wearing the same robes that Remus had made him change into only a few hours before, and he thought calmly, well, that's that, then.

Then he threw a teapot at the wall and burst into tears.

===

The next few months dragged on as if they were years. Harry had survived, somehow, and was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. Remus thought half-heartedly of making a claim for the boy, but then thought that there was no way he'd be allowed to live with a gay werewolf, and decided that he'd be better off in a more secure environment.

Remus survived, just about, although he didn't know how. He put out Sirius' clothes in black bin-bags for the rubbish collectors to pick up, and dropped the big motorbike off at a Muggle dealership, after carefully removing all the charms on it. No more flying on a motorcycle for him. It had been a brainless, dangerous idea anyway, and he certainly didn't miss clinging to Sirius with the wind rushing through his hair.

After six months it became easier to bear. He talked to Dumbledore, and apparently the pain of loss and betrayal never truly went away; you just had to learn how to cope with it and live without them.

He thought of how stupid he'd been and how obvious Sirius had been and how he should have realised, of Sirius' pale face the night before Hallowe'en and his shaking fingers, of how stilted and strange it had all been, and thought, of course. It had been obvious. The drinking, the coldness, the drawing away, that one last night before Hallowe'en that had been full of heat and memories and sex and what he'd thought at the time was love, but now he thought back could not possibly have been.

After a year, it got even easier. He laughed, sometimes, when he talked to Andromeda and played with her daughter, and sometimes went to visit Alastor Moody to talk of the Order in old times. And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone, now, disappeared, because of the great love that Lily had had for Harry.

(That great love that had been extinguished, now, because she was dead, but he tried not to think like that.)

He tore up old photos and determinedly did not think of the past. He moved from job to job and survived, just about, with a few more wrinkles and patches on his robes. He kept a single, tattered photo of James and Lily and Harry and Peter in his wallet and mourned them by day and did not think of Sirius except at night, when his dreams were all too vivid and he woke up painfully alone.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop loving Sirius Black, despite all he'd done. And he hated himself for it.