Seventh Year

It's been 387 days since Sirius kissed Remus Lupin. He calculates it miserably, with his face buried in his blanket, his body curled in upon itself. 387 days since he pushed back the bed-curtains, shaking with uncertainty even though they had been snogging for four nights already, and Remus grabbed his wrist and pulled him against his laughing mouth. 387 days since he played that stupid, stupid joke and ruined everything good in his life, 387 days that will stretch into hundreds and thousands because apparently he will never be able to kiss Remus again. He has ruined everything.

He forces his fingers to loosen their grip in his hair, because it's starting to really hurt now and he doesn't fancy having great bald patches just because he's unhappy. Perhaps he hasn't really ruined everything. Remus has forgiven him, really forgiven him, after all. He should be grateful for it, that their friendship is back on track, and there isn't a horrible unspoken nastiness festering between them as there was the months following that horrible night. But he's not grateful. Not anymore.

He thought he knew the meaning of the word "frustrated" before, when he was waiting for the right time to bring about a mutual acknowledgment of the fascinating thing brewing between them. That feeling was a bit of pastel nothing compared to this, however, because then he hadn't known- he hadn't touched him yet; hadn't seen what changes carnality wrought upon calm, scholarly Remus; hadn't heard the shaky, "Oh God, Sirius, oh God" that spilled from him the first time they tentatively pushed their hips together; hadn't tasted Remus's mouth and found there a complement to his scent- wood-smoky and so hot-

He squirms uncomfortably on the bed, hard under his trousers but not caring. It's the middle of the day and Remus and Peter and James are down in the common room, but any of them could come upstairs to see why he left so abruptly. So, no wanking. Or, he thinks, sliding a hand between his thighs and pushing his erection against it, not very much wanking, at least. He will be able to hold out until bed-time, if only he doesn't think of that last night they were together.

Except sometimes that's all he can think of, and it's the reason he can't completely give up hope that someday he'll be able to touch Remus again. If it had not been for that last night, he could perhaps be able to let it go, even though the thought makes him feel as if he's been punched in the stomach and there's no air in the room. But the night before the full moon in September of their Sixth Year changed everything, and if he wasn't hooked before he is now, irrevocably. There have never been any halves in Sirius Black's life- once a person is hated, he is hated forever, once a person is a friend, he is a friend for life, and once Sirius loves, that person will be loved until the end of time, come what may. This is the first time he's regretted this aspect of his personality, because loving Moony hurts, so badly he has to close his eyes against the reality of knowing Moony will never let him in again. He's been politely, silently shut out of that inner chamber he never appreciated being let into before, and how ironic is it that the very night after he realized he was fathoms deep in love, he fucked everything up, forever and for all time?

Should he wish that night never happened? No, he can't wish that away, just as he can't stop himself remembering every single second of it. He's walked the path from his bed to Moony's in his mind so many times since that night that he can hear the sneaky slide of his bare feet on the floor, feel the velvety drapes against his left hand, smell the spicy-sweet cinnamon and apple of the tart Moony had for dessert that lingered on his fingers and the edges of his lips.

He remembers Moony laughing delightedly when he blew a raspberry against the ticklish skin of his neck- so lovely, Moony when he's really laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled, his nose scrunched up, his head tilted back and carelessly happy. Sirius thinks that maybe he would look like that all the time, had there not been that chance meeting between boy and wolf so long ago, and has always striven to make him laugh as much as possible. That night was full of it, the sound of Moony laughing, both of them laughing, almost giddily as Moony tugged him forward with a finger looped underneath Padfoot's collar. I love that collar, he remembers Moony confessing in a teasing whisper, just before running the tip of his tongue like a line of fire over Sirius's lower lip, then sucking on it gently between his teeth. They had learned more in the previous four nights than he could ever have imagined- snogging for hours while they touched each other carefully, finding other places that felt good, other spots that drew surprised gasps or moans. Not between the legs yet- he remembers he was still a bit frightened at the thought of that, although it would take Crucio before he'd admit it.

He's running his hand over the length of his erection through his trousers slowly as the memory unfolds in his mind, as it has so many times before. Murmuring Lie on your belly, Moony, because an idea had sprung into his head during Potions that day regarding Moony's skin. He had always suspected that Moony's skin was highly sensitive, considering how ticklish he is and how much he loved it when Sirius used to trace his fingers along his back. After sliding Moony's t-shirt up and rubbing his lips over the glorious softness just above the waistband of his pyjamas, his hypothesis had been proven correct. Just the thought of the way Moony's entire body shuddered, how his muscles clenched and he buried his face in his pillow to muffle the startled shout, makes Sirius's breath come faster. He remembers the heady feeling of pressing kisses faster and faster, spurred on by Moony moaning, his body arching under Sirius's lips, and how when he let the tip of his tongue join in, Moony cried out and writhed. The taste of his skin still lingers in Sirius's memory- sweat-salty, overlaid by his own personal taste, which Sirius will never be able to describe- it is something like that of a juicy, ripe peach just before you bite into it and slurp up the sweetness inside, but not quite. He only knows that it made him feel a bit drunk and gave him courage.

It's a good thing, too, otherwise he would never have been brave enough to do what he did next- put his fingers on Moony's calf and began to rub in light, slow circles through the thin, soft flannel of his pyjama bottoms, while his tongue traced matching circles on his back. He received an immediate reward for his bravery in Moony's reaction- wordless cries buried in his pillow, hands clenching and un-clenching in the bedclothes, hips sliding against the sheets back and forth back and forth. Moony scrabbling for control and not reaching it is possibly an even better sight than Moony laughing, and Sirius has gotten off to the memory of it over and over since then.

His hand crept over Moony's thigh and he gently slid his fingers toward the inside of it, high up, stroking the flannel-covered skin there. God, doing that had driven Remus practically into a frenzy, his skin there must have been so sensitive, so much more than his back or his neck (the delights of which Sirius had already, by that time, discovered). He still wonders, frequently, what would happen if he licked the skin there, because if he reacted that strongly to just fingers through thin pyjamas, how would he react to Sirius's tongue?

His courage nearly failed him when the thought occurred to him that he should continue sliding his fingers up, run them over Moony's arse. Of all the things he loves about Moony's body, and there are hundreds- the thin line of reddish-brown hair on his belly; the scar shaped like a horse-shoe on his shin; the way the hair at the nape of his neck will curl upward if it's very hot out; the firm, stubborn set of his chin- his arse is Sirius's favorite. He thinks if he were ever to start a personal religion, it might center around worshipping Moony's arse, which he had always tried so, so hard not to look at when they were dressing him after full moons. For all Sirius is considered the finest-looking bloke in school, and James is widely considered to have the best form, neither of them have arses that can compare to Moony's (and Sirius has looked at James in that particular light a few times, testing himself to see if he feels the same way for one friend as he does for another. To his relief, he has only felt a few half-hearted surges of lust now and then for him, and he suspects those are mostly out of loyalty).

He remembers the dizzying combination of the desire to push Moony's pyjamas down and nip at him and the quaking fear of touching Moony somewhere so private. Holding his breath, feeling as though he were about to blindly jump off a cliff (such a familiar feeling, that), he recklessly slid his fingers up...up...up, until there was no mistake, he was tracing patterns over Moony's arse. And suddenly the world narrowed to these hot points of contact- his lips and tongue against Moony's back and his hand on Moony's arse- as he discovered that however sensitive the other spots he had touched were, this was most sensitive of all. The discovery made his stomach and groin feel as though they were being slowly pulled, the way his feet felt in the sand at the ocean, when the tide was going out- a long, slow rush. His hand curved around the firm flesh, the muscle beneath tightening and slackening in a quick rhythm, and he began to suck on the tender skin of his back, softly at first and then harder when Moony's cries became louder and louder, and Sirius remembers the exact second Moony lost the last tiny bit of control. It's burnt into his brain forever- the broken, shaken sound of Remus's voice calling Sirius's name over and over, Sirius oh Sirius, the frantic thrusting of his hips that stuttered almost to a halt, freezing for one taut, aching second then pulsing in long, shuddering spasms.

Even with his hand on Moony's arse he didn't know what was happening until the shuddering had slowed and the cries had died down to gasps, and Moony had completely buried his face in his pillow. Then the realization was upon him, Oh my sweet Lord he just- he just- oh, and his cock was suddenly convulsing as he came, hard and fast, in his pants, surprising him greatly, as he'd been so focused on what he was doing to Moony that he had completely forgotten about his own body.

Still moaning, he dropped down next to Remus, running a hand up his shaking, sweat-slicked back as he did so. When he had stopped panting and recovered a bit, he realized Moony was motionless, his face still stuffed in the pillow. He moved his head nearer to Remus's on the pillow and he still didn't move. "Are you all right?" he asked hoarsely, close to his ear.

After a moment Remus turned his head to face Sirius, and he looked sleepy and embarrassed and satisfied all at once, his wet hair spiked up wildly on one side and curling damply against his forehead on the other. Sirius moved his hand from Moony's back to his hot, flushed cheek. "I'm sorry," Moony whispered, the embarrassment overwhelming everything else.

He remembers flopping onto his back, laughing weakly at the ceiling. "Sorry?" he asked breathlessly. "Moony, that was the most...I've never seen something so wonderful in my life." He pushed the fringe off his forehead and reached over to pull Remus's sweaty, warm length against him, tucking the poor exhausted head under his chin. "I can't wait to do it again. You made me, erm..." he indicated the front of his pyjama pants, which were, if he recalls correctly, uncomfortably wet.

"Did I?" Remus smirked, lifting his head a bit to look, naked fascination in his voice despite the fact that his limbs were heavy against Sirius with languor. "Lovely." He had reached across Sirius to grab his wand, tapping the front of Sirius's pyjamas, then his own, muttering, "Evanesco." No longer sticky, he curled back up around Sirius, and they lay contently for what felt like hours. Although what happened before gets him off, this is the time Sirius likes to remember best- running his fingers through Remus's wet hair while Moony rubbed his finger in a small, lazy circle just above Sirius's nipple and they talked of nothing.

"Moony, I'm never going to be able to concentrate in class ever again after this," he remembers murmuring.

There was a puff of air against his skin- Remus laughing. "Did you ever?"

"Well," he admitted. "Not as such, but you know I've a sturdy, brilliant rat-trap of a mind. Information goes in and just stays there."

Remus burrowed in closer, snickering, drowsy and sated. "That's just the problem, nothing comes out either. What's that Muggle place? The Bermuda Triangle? That's your brain, Padfoot."

He pressed a light kiss on Remus's forehead. "It's fortunate I know I'm wonderful. You lot will never appreciate my greatness."

"Oh, I d'no," Remus's voice was starting to get that slurry tinge that meant he was falling asleep. "Think I 'preciate you...just...fine."

It took only a few more minutes before Remus was well and truly sleeping, and he gently disentangled himself, rolling Remus onto his back the way he liked to sleep and pulling the covers up over him. That's the moment he wishes he could go back and throw away- the stupid, awful moment he stumbled over everything and fell. He had known before that he wanted Moony, that he cared deeply about him, that he loved him, even that Moony was the most important person in the world to him. But suddenly, there, in the heartbeat between seconds, he realized that there was more to it even than that- he was so in love with Remus it could never be unraveled or undone, the love bound to his organs, his pores, his lips like elements are bound, fused to his molecules for life. The realization left him weak and terrified- I'll never be in love with anybody else but you- and he fled to his own bed and huddled there, shaking until he fell asleep.

The day Moony really forgave him last May- as opposed to saying he forgave him, which he had done three days after the Prank and which nobody with half a brain would ever have believed- Sirius told him the exact words he and Severus Snape exchanged that led to all that happened later, and Moony nodded and said he understood. Not that it was okay, but that he understood. They've discussed it a few times, but Sirius has never told him he loves him, or that his cowardice in loving him was what made him play such a trick on Snape in the first place. Perhaps the fact that Moony hasn't touched him, hasn't let their bodies get anywhere near each other, in the four months since, is his punishment for the cowardice. He knows he deserves it, knows that it's only divine retribution that Moony should stiffen under his touch as though he's diseased.

Which is why he's lying here alone in his bed, pretending to have a nap, too miserable even to wank really- his efforts have been half-cocked the entire time, he thinks, and doesn't even snort to himself at the pun. Twenty minutes ago they were studying in the common room for a Transfiguration test, and Peter turned a book into a bath-tub instead of a chair, and he had put his hand on Moony's shoulder comfortingly, saying, "Oi, Moony, sorry about your book, you should've known better than to give it to Peter," and Moony's entire body had become so rigid he might have been Stunned. He's never going to let me touch him again, a voice whispered in his head, and everything was suddenly too much and he had to get away before he burst into hysterical tears like an over-tired child. He said, "I'm exhausted, lads, I'm going to go have a nap," in a wavering voice, and fled before any of them could question him.

"It's your own fault," he whispers to himself, his stomach churning in despair. The months and years that stretch ahead of him look cold and lonely from this point. Years without Moony. How can he survive this- a life absent of Remus Lupin? Because no matter how much hope that last night they spent together has given him, it's been over a year and still nothing-

Footsteps tap up the stairs and into the room, come close to the bed. He should not be surprised- James has become insufferably motherly since he got Head Boy. When the curtains behind him are pulled back, cracking the stifling atmosphere open with a ray of late-afternoon light, he says dully, "Go away, James. I'm tired."

But the voice that answers isn't James's. "It's me," Remus says quietly. "Can I talk to you, Sirius?"

He resists the wild urge to fly up and pull Remus onto the bed. It's entirely possible that Remus is here only to ask him never to touch him again, or to tell him that this friendship thing isn't working after all, and Sirius wants to be facing away from him if that's going to happen. "Go ahead," he says shortly, unable to say much more for fear that he really is going to cry, and the shame will kill him.

There's a long pause, then a small huff from behind him, and Remus is suddenly there, one slim arm snaking under Sirius's, his nose nuzzling into the back of Sirius's neck, the heat of his body radiating into Sirius's back.

Suddenly it is very hard to breathe.

"What"- he gasps, and that's the only word that he can say. Even before the Prank, Moony rarely initiated physical contact like this, and for him to do it now-

Moony's precise, direct voice is softened against his neck. "I'm sorry, Padfoot. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He half-turns, then remembers his resolve to not look at Moony, especially as the possibility of crying has suddenly expanded threefold. Unexpected kindness always undoes him far more quickly than cruelty, as he found out last year when Prongs's parents ordered him to stay with them under threat of death. "What are you sorry for, Moony? You haven't done anything wrong. At all," he whispers.

"I have, Padfoot. I've been willfully blind," he replies. "It's just..."

"Just what?" he asks, his voice breaking over the words.

"Sirius, you just...you hurt me...so, so much," Remus sighs, and it sounds like every word is being pulled out of him. He did not say anything like this the night he forgave Sirius, not a single syllable. "It wasn't only that you betrayed me about the fact I'm a werewolf- no, sssh, I know you didn't mean to, I do know that, Sirius. I believe you, so don't worry. But for a long time, I wondered if you had done it because maybe- the things we had been doing- that you had started to regret them. That maybe you hated me for doing them, for wanting to do them."

He clutches at Remus's hand, so still on his chest, and holds it tight, utterly unable to speak.

"I forgave you for the one thing, Padfoot, because I know you. You can be...very cruel...sometimes, without even intending to be. But I couldn't forgive the idea that maybe you hated me for- for feeling something for you, and that you would make me feel ashamed of it. Every time you've come near me I've felt sick to my stomach, because I would think He's just mocking me, making fun of poor lonely werewolf Remus, or taking pity because he knows how I feel for him and he wants us to be friends again." Sirius can't tell if Remus's voice is quavering so badly because his arms are tight around Sirius's shaking body, or if this is hurting him as badly as it's hurting Sirius to hear it. "But a little while ago- you looked so unhappy. And I realized, Sirius, I've been a blind little idiot, haven't I?"

It's not a rhetorical question, but rather tentative and uncertain, as if Remus needs to know that he's not going to have anything thrown back in his face. He can't answer, but he nods jerkily, and he knows Remus feels it, because there are suddenly lips against his neck. "Padfoot," he whispers, "I missed you. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you." Each "you" is punctuated with another slightly clumsy kiss, and Sirius forces himself to turn over so they are facing each other. He immediately buries his face in the shelter of Moony's right shoulder, wallowing in the blessed warmth and softness of his jumper, unforgotten in the past year. Moony presses his lips twice to his earlobe, which is the only bit of skin poking out, and it is a long time before either of them can speak.

When he can, he clears his throat, because he wants to tell Moony, at last, what he has been aching to say for so long. "I was going to tell you I- that I- that I love you," he croaks, and has to clear his throat again. "When you woke up, after that full moon, I was going to tell you."

Remus's arms tighten convulsively around him. "I- you were?" he asks, sounding dumbfounded.

He nods. "I wanted to tell you in the morning so you could have something nice to wake up to. And also, maybe, so you would be so tired you couldn't run away." He smiles as he feels Remus laugh, a little. "I figured out how much I cared about you that last night we were- together. Scared me half to death, it did."

"I can imagine," Remus replies dryly.

"And I think, because I was scared, it was easier for me to- to say that to Snape. Because I was a coward, because I was- I was terrified, and bloody Snape was so irritating," he sighs. "There's a part of the story I haven't told you, you know."

Remus's fingers rubbing behind Sirius's ear still their soothing movements, and he says, "What's that?"

"Snape knew. About us," he bites his lip.

"How on earth?" Remus exclaims indignantly. "We never"-

"I snogged you in the hallway, once, remember? We thought there was nobody for miles. But Snape, you know how sneaky he is, revolting bastard probably hid somewhere waiting for us- anyway the point is that he saw us, and he was still a bit, erm, sore at us, from that little thing James and I pulled on him at the lake- you know, the one where he wound up upside down?"

"Did I not tell you he wouldn't forget about that?" Remus admonishes him, his hand resuming the gentle, steady stroking behind Sirius's ear. Sirius would like to shut up and let Remus administer to him like that as long as he wants, but there's a story to tell and he can't stop until it's done.

"Yes, but at that point it was all Prefect-speak to me," he admits. "So he said he was going to tell everyone. You know I don't care if everyone knows I'm a poofter"-

"Sirius!" Remus hisses, smacking him on the back.

"What? I am, and so bloody well are you. Anyway, on my part he could've told anyone, I don't give a fanny. In more ways than one. But for you- oh, I was angry. He said he knew what we were up to in the Shack. I said oh really. He said he would tell everyone and we'd be expelled and sent to jail and I'd never see my "bit of cheap trade" again."

"What's that?" Remus interrupts, his lips twitching in that way Sirius is so familiar with, when he finds something funny but doesn't want to admit it. "Am I a tart then?"

Sirius grins at the unlikely thought of Remus as a tart. "Never you mind, pet, he's a nasty, nasty man. Said he was going to see you in the Shack later, and if you were in the right condition he might see if my bit of cheap trade would be willing to buy his silence."

"So I am a tart, apparently," Remus snorts.

"Yes, apparently you are. Actually I rather think he was just trying to get me angry- at least that's what I tell myself so I can sleep at night. Of course it worked, and you know what happened after that," he says, then tilts his head so he can kiss him, reverently, on the soft skin at his juncture of his collar bones. To no other person in the world would he say the following words, but he knows he won't be finished until he says them, "I'm sorry, Moony." It's still hard, even if it is Moony, and the next are almost as difficult. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

Remus shifts and squirms until they're facing each other on the pillow. He lifts his hand to Sirius's face and he smiles a bit sadly. "I know, Padfoot. It's done now, though."

"I know I'm a prat, and you hate my music, and I'm too impulsive by half, and I'm forever getting into messes"- he murmurs, leaning into Moony's hand.

"And you're the vainest thing alive," Remus adds, sighing, "You really are."

"Yes, that too. Moony, though, things are happening now, things we're going to have to deal with very soon, and- I've chosen my side, and I just. I want you with me, if you'll have me," he trails off, ducking his head. There's a storm brewing not far outside the castle walls, waiting for them, although nobody talks about it except in low frightened tones yet. He knows Remus has seen what he has, though- and James too, although since Lily Evans allowed him to buy her a cuppa the previous week he hasn't thought or talked about much else. They've all seen that beneath the uneasy chatter of the adults they know, something dark is slowly, ever so slowly, rising up.

"I'll always have you as a friend, Padfoot, and we'll see how...how we work out," Remus tells him, finally kissing him on his warm, wanting mouth. "This thing"- he waves his hand around to indicate the world outside Sirius's bed. "We'll face it together."

"Together?" Sirius's voice cracks a little bit as he grabs the flailing hand and links his fingers through Remus's.

"Yes, I think so," Remus replies, firmly.