Protest

"Let's go somewhere, Remus," Sirius said, catching Remus's hand in his. "The people here are insane--it's like Fudge is giving people to Voldemort, ignoring him and focusing on other things."

"Where would we go, Sirius?" Remus asked softly. He didn't bother to mention that they couldn't go anywhere anyway, that Sirius wasn't even allowed to leave the house, that they both had work for the Order to do. He wanted to forget it himself, and he knew Sirius never wanted to be reminded of it.

Sirius waved a hand negligently. "It doesn't matter," he said. "America. Canada. Australia. Just somewhere else. Somewhere where the politicians are more concerned with saving their people than with saving their reputations."

Remus looked away. "Is there anywhere in the world where that's true?" he asked.

An arm draped itself around his shoulder. "So cynical, Moony," Sirius teased, but he wasn't smiling. "We could go somewhere else. We could. Some place where things are better. Where the wizarding world isn't so conservative. The way they think they can legislate who's a person and who's not is disgusting."

Remus looked at him again, their faces close together. "Werewolves can't get married," Remus said quietly. "It's part of Umbridge's new legislation. In the eyes of the law, I'm not person enough to love someone enough to marry them, or to keep them safe from what I am during full moons."

Sirius's arm tightened around his shoulder. "This is why we should leave," he said viciously. "These--people, who think they can legislate humanity. And the British wizards, who agree with them." He gave an explosive sigh. "It's the wizards who put these people in power, and it's the ordinary wizards who are the ones so afraid of people that they're willing to decree that kind of thing. It makes me sick."

Remus shook his head, though he agreed with Sirius. "They agree with their Minister," he reminded Sirius. "They believe what Fudge says, what Umbridge says, because they're the leaders and they should be trustworthy. It's not the people's fault if they aren't."

"The people should be able to tell," Sirius replied, almost petulantly. "They should care if Fudge is lying to them. They should care that wizards outside Britain think that Fudge is an idiot and a fool--France understands the danger."

"Beauxbatons was here for the Triwizard Tournament," Remus said. He lifted a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "Madame Maxime believes Dumbledore, and the French Minister believes her. It's not their fault Fudge doesn't believe Dumbledore." If arguing with Sirius again wasn't giving him a headache, thinking about Fudge and what he was doing definitely was.

Sirius made an exasperated noise. "Why are we arguing about this?" he asked. "You agree with me, I know you do. Just like I understand what you're saying, even if I don't like it. So why are we arguing?"

Remus smiled tiredly. "I don't know," he said, though he did. He just didn't want to say that they were arguing because they were getting used to arguing. Another thing to add to the list of things Remus didn't want to think about.

"Let's not argue, then," Sirius suggested. "Let's completely agree on and mutually rant about what an idiot Fudge is. I'll go first. He wouldn't believe Voldemort was a danger even if the snakey bastard himself went up to Fudge and slapped him with a wet fish until he was unconscious."

Remus had to laugh at that. "A wet fish, Sirius? I'm not even going to bother asking where you come up with these things."

Sirius looked pleased with himself. "Your turn then, Moony, go on." He flashed a big smile at Remus, and squeezed his shoulders. "Let your anger loose!"

Remus sighed, and shook his head. "I don't want to get angry," he said, and leaned his head on Sirius's shoulder. He had to be strong in front of the Order, he had to put on a good face for Harry, he had to not let Snape's sniping bother him, and only in Sirius's presence did he feel free to show how tired he was of this sometimes. "I want to..." He stopped, and tried again. "To get angry, I have to think about what they're doing. About how they're pandering to the rich elite and thumbing their noses at those like the Weasleys and me, who don't have two Galleons to rub together. About that new werewolf legislation. About Fudge's ostrich imitation in sticking his head in the sand to avoid Voldemort. I don't want to think about all that." He looked at Sirius and met his eyes. "I'm tired of thinking about all that, and getting angry makes me even more tired, and I just don't want to do this anymore, Sirius, I don't."

Sirius was silent for a moment, but his arms came up and closed around Remus's back, and Remus let his forehead rest against Sirius's neck. It wasn't often that Sirius got to feel the strong one, the one that Remus went to when he couldn't take it anymore, instead of the other way around. Too often did Sirius seek out Remus because of anger or weariness, used Remus's shoulder, took comfort from Remus's presence, and it was only fair, Remus knew, to now and then let Sirius know that Remus needed him for comfort as much as he needed Remus.

"What," Sirius said after a few minutes passed, "about protesting?" Remus could almost hear the smile and mischief in his voice.

"Protest?" Remus leaned back to look up at Sirius's face, and saw a wicked smile dancing in his eyes. He hoped that this protest wasn't of the sort to get him kicked out of the Order and Sirius Kissed by a Dementor...

"Protest," Sirius agreed complacently. This did not reassure Remus, who knew that Sirius was always calm when sure in his ideas. "Umbridge and Fudge think that werewolves aren't human enough to love and be loved? Let's prove 'em wrong."

Remus leaned his head back on Sirius's shoulder and grinned into his robes. "I know where this is going," he said, his voice muffled slightly. "And I don't know that sex is quite a valid form of protest, Padfoot..."

"Why not?" Sirius demanded, and when Remus looked up, he could see the corners of Sirius's mouth twitching. "They don't think you're human enough to bugger me? I say we prove them wrong."

"They won't know," Remus pointed out, though he smiled.

"We'll tell 'em later," Sirius said. "Make a list of everything we've done and all the times we've done it. Maybe it'll give them a heart attack."

"I don't think I'm that much of an exhibitionist," Remus commented lightly, raising his head. "And I don't..." He stopped. Sirius meant the list in fun, and he didn't need to go taking it seriously.

"Don't what?" Sirius brushed fingers along Remus's cheek. "Don't what, Remus?"

Remus turned his head slightly, nipped Sirius's neck lightly. "Don't want Fudge and Umbridge to know anything about us," he said, his lips against Sirius's warm skin. "They don't deserve it. They don't deserve to know anything about our lives. They don't deserve to know anything about me, and whom I choose to love and have sex with. Let them have their heart attacks for some other reason, but I don't want them to know that much about us. It's for you and me alone."

Remus could feel it when Sirius shivered, and smiled into Sirius's skin. "Oh," Sirius said, almost uncharacteristically without words. "Well." He cleared his throat, and Remus saw his Adam's apple jump. He really was too thin, even after eating three square meals a day for months. But then, Remus supposed, Azkaban couldn't be gotten over just that easily.

"Right," Remus said, and nuzzled Sirius's neck again before stepping back and out of Sirius's arms. "Upstairs, then?"

A smile spread over Sirius's face. "No..." he said slowly. "I think Kreacher might be hiding out upstairs, little toerag. And besides, it's warm down here. Upstairs is still drafty."

Remus laughed quietly. "But down here, someone could walk in."

Sirius grinned. "Let them," he said, and leered. "If we're going to protest, let's do it where people can see us."

Remus laughed again. "I'm still not an exhibitionist," he reminded Sirius. "Only because no one's likely to come in..."

"Excuses, excuses." Sirius waved a hand. "The Moony I used to know would--"

"Feel the exact same way," Remus said dryly. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Oh well, no one is likely to come in, so we're safe, Monsieur Moony." He gave an exaggerated bow in Remus's direction, and Remus sniggered.

"By your leave, then, Monsieur Padfoot," Remus replied, amused. Sirius waggled an eyebrow in invitation.

"My leave is given, now let's get on with the buggering." And before Remus could, Sirius closed the gap between them, kissing Remus swiftly and holding him close again.

"I'll never take this for granted again," he murmured against Remus's lips. "It seems that every time I take you--us--for granted, I pay for it. And I can't let you go again."

Remus kissed him back again, crushing their mouths together until Sirius stopped speaking. "Don't think about it," he said. "You won't lose me again."

Sirius pulled back slightly. "Promise?" he asked, in that moment sounding very young, and Remus was again reminded that he'd only been twenty-two when he was thrown in Azkaban. Remus couldn't remember being twenty-two. He couldn't remember if, even then, he was still young enough to think that a promise like that could be so easily kept.

"I love you," Remus said instead of promising, and hoped that Sirius wouldn't make him. They were in a war, and he didn't want to make a promise that he couldn't keep. Then he kissed Sirius again, and slid his hands underneath the shoulders of Sirius's robe to feel warm skin beneath the pads of his fingers, and hoped that Sirius wouldn't think of an unmade promise anymore.