Cost of Living

The cottage windows are dark as Remus stomps up the snow-covered walkway. He feels a twinge of disappointment that Sirius has not waited up for him, though Remus did tell him not to. Still, he'd said those words in anger, and his anger has long since cooled.

He unlocks the cottage door and takes a moment to scrape his boots clean on the threshold. As he does, he listens for Sirius; perhaps he's in bed reading, or in the bathroom. But the only sounds, once he's finished with his boots, are the rattle of branches and the sweep of the wind through the frigid air and across the banks of snow.

Remus stands in the open doorway for a long moment, looking at the snow. There are no stars and no moon, but there's light coming from somewhere. The falling snowflakes glint with it, like sparks, and the snow that already lies thick on the ground glows.

But this is an enchanted valley, he reminds himself. There's magic in the earth and the air, and it's particularly strong here, thanks to Harry and what he did. And I'm very tired, and perhaps imagining things.

He lingers, though because he is no longer moving the cold is seeping through his coat to his skin. He thinks briefly about Harry, and hopes that the boy is asleep now, and warm, and safe. But why should he not be? He has friends to make sure that he is never lonely, and he knows that he is always welcome under Remus' and Sirius' roof, wherever that happens to be. There is no need for Remus to be concerned, though Harry has not written to them in some time. Hope is in the world, and in its way, hope is as powerful as love. Once released from the Department of Mysteries it allowed the seemingly impossible to happen. It allowed Harry to walk triumphant from his last battle with Voldemort. It allowed Remus to find Sirius and bring him back from beyond the Veil.

And perhaps, Remus thinks as his gaze flicks over the snowy ground to the massive darkness he knows to be Hogwarts, it's what induced Severus to help me, though he had to know that in helping me, his own hopes would be dashed.

He shakes his head wearily. He never knew about Severus' hopes until tonight.

He makes no conscious decision to close the door, but then he sees his hand on the knob, and the night is disappearing behind wood. There's a final, sharp rush of air against his cheek that is not at all like a caress, but not like a slap, either, then a click, and he's shut in.

Good night, he thinks to no one in particular.

He goes up the stairs and enters the bedroom. The fire has been out for a long time and Sirius must have forgotten to cast a Warming Charm, because it is cold. Remus' breath comes out in short puffs, which he can see by the faint glow that slides through the curtains.

Shrugging out of his coat, he peers into the gloomy dark for the large bed in the middle of the room. He stumbles slightly on Sirius' shoes as he makes his way toward it. He gropes and his hand finds a bedpost, then the edge of the bed. He sits down, taking care not to jostle the mattress, and pulls his jumper over his head.

"Where were you, Remus?" Sirius asks groggily.

Startled, Remus jumps, and bangs his knee on the bedside table. Cursing under his breath, he thinks frantically of what he can tell Sirius.

He sighs and decides to tell the truth.

"I was with Severus."

His lover does not reply.

"It's not what you think, Sirius."

"What do I think?" the other man inquires. The mattress springs squeak as he rolls over. Remus can now feel his warm breath on his skin. It makes him shiver. The shiver becomes a shudder when Sirius places one large palm against his back. "What do I think?" Sirius asks again quietly.

"You think he hates us," says Remus, bunching his jumper between his hands. "But you're wrong."

"Am I?" Sirius says as he strokes him. "He hates me. You can't convince me he doesn't. Frankly, I don't give a shite. But he hates what you are. He always will."

"I'm sure you wonder," Severus said, his hard dark gaze intent on something just to the left of Remus' face, "what your life would have been like were you completely human."

"Of course I do," said Remus, surprised. "Don't you? Wonder, I mean, about what your life would have been like had things gone differently long ago. If you'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw, for example."

"I don't," said Severus, a jagged edge to his tone, a forbidding flash to his gaze. "I never wonder. I cannot afford to."

"I don't understand why you keep going to him," says Sirius. "If he hates you. I know you think you're still beholden to him, but Remus..."

"I'll be in his debt until the day I die, and even after, I think. He saved you as much as I did."

Sirius pulls back. Cold air slithers across Remus' skin. "No."

"Yes," says Remus, though he aches to say No, you are right. It was me, only me. My love alone was enough to save you. "Yes," he says again; the word scrapes painfully against his throat. "I got you back, but you wouldn't – couldn't – wake up. You were trapped in your memories and you would have stayed trapped if not for his help. It required a master Legilimens, and with Dumbledore gone, Severus was the only one." He's said this so many times he knows each line by heart. He knows too how Sirius will respond.

"You let him into my mind, Remus. You let him into my mind." He says it quietly but bitterly. There's no changing what's been done, and perhaps for that reason Sirius thinks he can – or must – rail against it. "He saw everything. Every time I look at him – every time I think of him, I think of what he's seen—"

"I saw everything, too," says Remus. "I was there, too." He does not say, And Severus does not care about your memories; he knows by now that this fact is insult heaped atop injury. "It was mostly me."

He'd been Virgil and Beatrice to Sirius' Dante, guiding him through the many tangled layers of his personal hells. He'd seen familiar faces, witnessed scenes he'd forgotten years ago. He'd learned things about Sirius that he had never known before, horrible things about his childhood, his years in Azkaban, and what he'd endured beyond the Veil, that flimsily patched chink in the boundary between life and death.

He understands why Sirius would loathe Snape for the role he'd played, but it was necessary, and Remus does not understand why Sirius can not see that.

"Gratitude from Black?" Severus scoffed. "I do not expect it, nor would I accept it were he mad enough to offer it. I do not accept it from you, either, Lupin. I will do this for you. I will let you try this, but if you ask me why and if you ever thank me – if I hear even one word of thanks from you, Lupin, believe me when I say that you will wish you'd left him dead."

Remus turns finally to look at Sirius. He's lying on his side, propped on his bent elbow, his head against his shoulder. In the dimness Remus can just see the curve of his cheek, the beginnings of his nose and forehead, and the darker darkness of his eyes. Remus can see the flutter of lashes when he blinks, can almost feel the beat of his pulse and breaths.

He wants to find his wand and cast Lumos so he can see Sirius – see that it really is Sirius – and lose his doubts in the beauty of blue eyes, smooth white skin, shining dark hair, and tempting lips.

He doesn't move. If he removes his gaze from Sirius he might lose him. The darkness might swallow him again. Merlin, the night is as suffocating as any black curtain. It's fraught with confusion and fear. They never argue like this in the daytime, only when they can't see each other, when they're afraid to turn around lest the other vanish.

"I love you," says Remus falteringly.

"I love you, too," says Sirius.

"I want—" Remus began, but Severus held up his hand, and he stopped.

"I warned you, Lupin. If you thank me for saving Black—"

"Would you really--?"

The steady dark gaze answered his half-spoken question. "I do not want your gratitude. Not for that. I did you no favours."

"But—"

"Poor Lupin, so desperate to do what he thinks is right. So well mannered. I've set one rule for you, and if you break it...knowing what is at stake, perhaps you don't deserve what you've gained. Is it manners, or is it really that hard, knowing every corner of Black's sad excuse for a mind? Yes, I imagine some of the things you saw were not to your liking."

Remus stood to leave.

"I love you," he says again, reaching for Sirius.

"If you fail," said Severus, "it's because you deserve to."

"I won't fail," said Remus.

"Black isn't worth it."

"I don't care what you think."

Severus' hand shot out and grasped his own.

Remus does not see Sirius lift his hand, but then he feels long fingers threading with his own, and he's being pulled down against the other man.

Severus held his hand for a long moment, during which neither of them spoke or even seemed to breathe. Then Severus lifted his hand and brought it to his lips.

Sirius kisses him, clumsily because he can't really see him.

"I love you," says Remus. "Don't you understand? I couldn't accept your loss. I'd have done anything to get you back, given anything, promised anything. I'd have sold my soul. Merlin, I'd have sold both our souls, so long as we could have been together." He's breathless, now. Sirius is gripping him tightly, kissing him more fiercely, everywhere, it seems, but on his mouth.

"I love you. I'd have bargained with Bellatrix, I'd have bargained with Voldemort. What I would have done – what I did do – terrifies me. But I don't care. I don't fucking care. I don't care if you're angry, if you can't accept what I did. I can live with that. I can't live without you. I'd have cracked the world in half and picked through all the souls that ever were until I found yours. I'm the most selfish man in the world. I only want you, but I want you more than I want anyone else to have anything."

"Shut up." It comes out as a plea.

Severus kissed his hand lightly.

Remus recoiled.

Lifting his head, Severus flashed him a grim smile. "Now, get out. Go to Black, if you love him as much as you said you did when you came to me for his life. Go, and don't come back here. If I think you are faltering..."

"You're that much of a perfectionist?"

"Don't look back, Orpheus." Still smiling, Severus closed the door.

Remus will not shut up. "I love you," he says, beginning to kiss Sirius back and beginning to fumble with his pyjamas. If he's half-naked, Sirius should be as well. "I love you. Don't doubt it. Don't doubt me or anything I'd do for you."

It's a challenge, and Remus knows the exact second when Sirius realizes it. The other man rises to the challenge by grabbing Remus and rolling him over onto his back and pinning him there against the sheets.

"I'd have done the same for you," Sirius says huskily. "It scares me, I hate to think about it, but I would."

There is love, there is hope, and that is all there need be.

08/07/04