In Theory

They lay together on a spread-out cloak in the rubble of the ruined Astronomy Tower, the pine-laced breeze of a Scottish summer night blowing over them gently. There were no clouds, and the moonlight was dim. Starlight fell unimpeded onto their upturned faces.

Sirius said, his deep voice rippling with amusement, "I forgot the champagne. You wouldn't mind running ba--"

"No," said Remus shortly. "You fetch."

"Difficult, that's what you are. Always were. All right, then." Sirius lifted his wand, flicked his wrist, and said lazily, "/Accio Champagne/. Hope ours is the closest. Wouldn't do to get somebody else's and have them chasing it up here, would it? Probably arrive too late to save your virtue, anyway."

"Virtue?" Remus snorted. "I gave /that/ up about twenty years ago, didn't I?"

"Fine, then. My virtue?"

Another derisive snort. "Too late for that, too. About thirty-eight years too late."

"Thirty-eight?" Sirius sounded wounded. "Are you saying, my partner in crime, in all things, that I've /never/ been virtuous?"

Remus smiled and shifted closer against the lean body beside him. "Never," he assured Sirius fondly. "And to be honest I wouldn't want you any other way." He lifted his own wand and added, "/Accio Champagne Glasses./"

Sirius' body quivered with laughter. "Ah, yes. Still used to roughing it, I'm afraid."

"Is that it?" said Remus. "I rather thought we were following our accustomed pattern: you have an idea, I take care of the details."

Sirius laughed again and ruffled the other man's hair. "That's right. You're usually right."

"Giddy, aren't we?"

"Very. Why're you so solemn?"

"Don't know." Remus shifted again and frowned at the sky. The moon was just a sliver; from where he lay it seemed no bigger than the edge of his thumbnail. But tomorrow night it would be bigger, and in a few weeks it would be full again and on that night he would become the thing he hated more than almost anything. The Wolfsbane Potion Snape brewed for him suppressed his murderous instinct, but transformation was still a very painful process, more so in recent years than it had been in his youth. Recovery took longer these days. In his teens and twenties it had been possible for him to be back on his feet only a few hours after moonset. Last month and the month before that he had spent the entire day following the full moon in bed, and had woken late at night so stiff he had barely been able to get up to use the loo.

At least Sirius had been there to soothe him, to rub emollients into his throbbing limbs, to stroke his hair, and to hold him upright while he ate. His presence as Padfoot had been comforting to the wolf, the night before. So it would be, Remus thought, for the next full moon, and for every one after that. He could endure the pain and the indignity if Sirius were there, he knew.

"Liar." The deep, soft voice tickled Remus' ear and made him shiver slightly, but the arms that stole around his body and hitched him closer were warm.

"All right," he said tiredly. "You know what I'm thinking about, though."

"I have a fair idea. Oh, Moony..."

"It's all right," said Remus. "It's just -- how it is. Nothing we can do about it."

"Hmm." For a short while the only things Remus heard were the wind moving over the broken rocks of the tower, and in the rooms far below, the muted sounds of other celebrations. "Hmm," said Sirius again, breaking the silence. "About that--"

But whatever he'd meant to say was interrupted by the arrival of their champagne, followed closely by two glasses.

"Ah, alcohol." Sirius rose to take the bottle, and Remus caught the glasses. "This isn't our bottle. Hope it's expensive. Still cold, anyway. Probably well-shaken." Sharp white teeth flashed in the darkness. "Ready, then? Stand back."

Remus jumped at the sharp /pop!/ and watched the cork fly up into the sky followed by a spray of white. He held up the glasses for Sirius.

"Well," said the other man after he had poured the champagne, then set the bottle down. "What will our toast be?"

"Victory, I should think," said Remus pointedly.

"All right. To the Dark Overlord's dark overthrow."

"Forever, this time," Remus added.

"Forever," Sirius agreed and looked at him, his eyes bright even in the darkness.

"To ghosts laid to rest."

"Mmm. To...friends we lost."

"And ones we didn't."

"To us. Can we drink, now?"

"Yes, now."

They clinked glasses.

Sirius downed his quickly and reached for more. "Ahh, good stuff. I wonder whose this is. Was." He lifted his glass skyward and Remus saw his eyes mist over and his gaze become distant. "Here's to you, Prongs. Your son did well. My godson. By the time he's back on his feet I should have an actual place. Not that he can't take care of himself, but he'll always have somewhere to crash if he wants. What you wanted..." He closed his eyes. "Damn, I wish..."

It might have been because of the champagne already in him, but Remus thought Sirius was standing too close to the tower's edge, and a chill raced through him. Setting down his glass and stepping forward swiftly, he wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, rested his chin on one broad shoulder. "Harry will be all right," he murmured, squeezing gently. "He's out of danger now. He'll be all right."

For a moment Sirius simply hung in his embrace. Then, to his relief, a hand went up to cover his own, and he relaxed. They stood thus for a time, leaning against each other, breathing in the night air and remembering.

But Sirius could never stay quiet for long. "I do mean to get a place," he said. "Now that I'm free. I don't know where, yet. I want you to live with me. If you want to, I mean."

Remus squeezed him again. "Of course I want to. But won't you want time alone with Harry?"

"Of course I will. And time alone with you. Lots of it. And I imagine my godson will want time alone his redhead. Like father like son," he mused. "But he's seventeen, now. I don't think he'll mind, though of course we'll ask. If he says yes, will you?"

"Of course."

He felt Sirius tense slightly. "And will you--?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you come with me to Fiji?"

"To Fiji?" Remus lifted his head. "Why on earth--?"

"Or New Zealand. Or even, if the notion strikes you, eastern Russia. For a vacation, Moony. Don't you think we deserve one? We can bring Harry so long as he doesn't mind being ditched upon arrival."

Remus laughed lightly. "A vacation sounds nice. I'm not so sure about Russia, though you know I'll go anywhere with you. When were you thinking of going?"

"In a few weeks," said Sirius. He paused, then said, sounding oddly uncertain, "I was thinking...around the fifteenth."

Remus sighed. "It'll have to be the next week. The fifteenth is the night of the full moon."

"I know." Sirius turned and lifted his hands to frame Remus' face. He was trembling. "It's got to be that day. Do you see why?"

"I'm sorry, I don't." Utterly bewildered, Remus searched for explanation in the pale blue gaze and the tense smile.

Sirius bent to press a kiss against his forehead. "Listen," his said breathily. "Don't--don't get your hopes up, but listen. Fiji and New Zealand are twelve hours ahead of England. When it's night here, it's day there. The /next/ day."

"So?"

"So. Remember how we used to race the sun across the lake at sunset? Racing the moon'll be even easier. You're the professor. Think. When the moon has risen here, it'll already have /set/ over /there/." Another kiss grazed his forehead. "We travel by Portkey, or we Apparate, or we go by Floo... Doesn't matter. We just have to be careful how we time it. We leave England before sundown. We travel /west/. The bloody moon can eat our wake. We'll outrace it. We won't even /see/ it because it'll be on the other side of the earth. We'll be a day /ahead/. It might /work/, Remus. Don't you think? What do you think?"

What Remus /thought/ he could not articulate. He /felt/ as though some great hand had picked up his world and shaken it, then set it down with all the pieces in the wrong places. He /couldn't/ think. He pulled away from Sirius and sank heavily upon a heap of broken stones. "Um," he said.

Sirius knelt before him, lifted his hands as though to touch him again, but arrested the movement and only looked up into his face. "Well?"

"Um," said Remus again. He tried to focus on the intensely blue eyes, but found he could not. He looked up at the sky, at the little silver leer marring the black. "Ah."

In the distance Sirius said, "It came to me just a little while ago, when I was in the shower. I always did my best work in the shower." The feral grin was not difficult to imagine. Remus closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on that, using it as an anchor to stop him drifting into space.

Sirius said, "When Wormtail--" He snarled the name. "When he--when he was trying to kill you, before, I thought, /I have to do more than just rescue him, this time. I have to save him. I mean /really/ save him. The way he's saved me./ So I thought about it. And thought about it. And then it just came to me. I don't remember reading it in a single book. I don't know if it'll work, but--"

His eyes still closed, Remus reached down and clasped Sirius' hands. "You save me," he murmured. "You save me and save me."

"Then -- you don't hate me?"

"I -- /what/?" Remus' eyes opened wide and he glanced down. "Why would I hate you?"

Sirius' grin was rueful. "For not thinking of it twenty years ago."

Remus drew the other man to him and kissed the worried crease between his eyebrows. Kissed the hollow cheeks and the thin lines at the corners of his mouth. "I love you," he said. "More than water, more than air, more than magic. Idiot." He pulled Sirius closer, into his arms, and then he was whispering between fast, scorching kisses, "Hate you? Idiot. What you've given me, I-- Even if it doesn't-- Thank you--/thank you/."

When they fell over they had the sense to fall away from the tower's edge. Remus groped in the darkness, found the discarded cloak and manoeuvred their bodies onto it. There were more fierce kisses, more deft caresses, and the moon and all it represented was forgotten.

When the two men paused for breath Remus found himself on top, straddling Sirius' waist, his palms on the ground on either side of that dear, dishevelled dark head.

"Well," he breathed, loving the face tilted toward his own, and the big warm hands plucking at the hem of his shirt, "d'you think this is something I'd do with someone I hated?"

"I sincerely hope not," Sirius deadpanned, making him laugh, making him want to lean down and kiss his way around the lazy smile. "There is a catch, of course," he went on. His fumbling hands found skin.

"A catch? Really?" It was difficult to be alarmed with those callused fingertips moving greedily over his back.

"Mmm. We'll both have to find gainful employment if we're to afford these monthly excursions. And we might get bored with Fiji and New Zealand. I intend for us to live a long time, you see."

"There's always eastern Russia."

"There is, and we could probably do Japan and Australia if we time it right, but I have a better solution. It's not enough for me to place a planet between you and that ruddy satellite. I'm going to blast it right out of the sky."

"Are you?" Remus raised himself slightly so he could study the face below his. They might have been sixteen years old, plotting mischief in Gryffindor Tower. It was a lifetime ago, but at the moment it did not feel so very distant. "Can you?" He brushed at the heavy black fringe, but it flopped back, shadowing Sirius' eyes. "How?"

"Well..." Sirius' grin flashed in the darkness. "I'm still working on /that/ part. You might help me, Professor Moony, good Marauder that you are. I can't be expected to think of /every/ solution, can I?"

"We'd get in trouble if we blew up the moon."

"Well, we're used to /that/."

"I mean we'd /really/ get in trouble."

Sirius pouted, and blinked up at him innocently. "Remus...this is /me/. I've been over every inch of trouble. There's no part of it I haven't mapped. Believe me, I know what it's like. Trust me, we're--"

Remus shut him up by kissing him, long and full on the mouth. Sirius' hands stole up his back and drew him down against him, and Remus realised that he could not pretend they were still young pups just discovering themselves and each other. Angles were sharper; movements were less graceful, but surer. There was no awkward fumbling; each knew by now what the other liked, and how he liked it. When they bumped noses now, it was not accidental. When their tongues touched and caressed, it was not exploration. Remus was not mapping new territory as he ran his hand slowly from Sirius' thigh to his chest. Every sigh, whimper, and groan was known, familiar, beloved.

Presently they came apart again, and Sirius said, "On the way back west from wherever we go, let's stop in Amsterdam."

"Amsterdam? What's there?"

"Wooden shoes," Sirius said dryly. "Windmills and tulips. And other weeds far more smokeable. What can two men do in Amsterdam that they can't do most other places in the world?"

"What can--ah." Then again, as he realised exactly what Sirius was asking him, "/Ah/." Again Remus felt his breath leave him and every fibre of his being light up as though charmed.

" 'Ah'?" Sirius repeated, his eyebrows twitching in amusement. " 'Ah'? Care to elaborate?"

"/Should/ we?"

" 'Should'?" Sirius snorted. "Should? Pesky word. The question is /could/ we? And the answer is--"

"Yes." Laughing, and falling upon the other man with redoubled ardour. "And therefore, we /should/."

"Remus," Sirius said a little while later, when Remus broke their kiss so he could pull Sirius' shirt over his head, "about the champagne. Whosever it is might come looking for it. If they follow it up here, they'll catch us doing it."

"Then they'll see /how it's supposed to be done./"

Sirius' laughter rocked them both. "See some heavenly bodies, will they? This /was/ the Astronomy Tower." His voice lowered, and he was suddenly solemn. "And if our ghosts, our beloved dead could see us now, what would they say?"

Remus stopped what he was doing briefly, and thought. "Prongs would say, 'Oh my eyes! Make it stop!'" Sirius did not stop laughing, even at the mention of James. Remus kissed him for that, and for a thousand other things. His lips still close to Sirius' skin, he added, "Then after he'd recovered he might say. 'Well done, my lads. Well done. You deserve this.'"

After that, there was no more talking. By the time they were still again, clouds had gathered like a curtain across the sky, hiding them from the moon's glow. Or maybe, Remus thought drowsily, as he wrapped his arms around his already sleeping lover and rested his head against his shoulder, they were being welcomed home after a long and difficult journey, and tucked into bed, and wished good night.

4/26/03

Revised 05/05/04