The story I thought would never be finished finally is; I’ve been largely avoiding Remus/Sirius since OotP on the grounds that it was just too depressing, but reading and writing XMM fic has done wonders for my tolerance of tragedy.

So, the following, which is Remus/Sirius, just pre-OotP. Remus knows better, but he's not sure he cares. Rated NC-17, because there is sex.


Ephemeris

They'd worked since breakfast time and managed by dint of heroic efforts to make one bedroom livable. Sirius had insisted on it being a guest room. Sleeping in his childhood bed, staring up at the same cracked ceiling and running his hands against the scratches he'd carved in the wood of the bedposts, would be too much like uneasy dreams he'd had ever since he left home. There was, Remus had pointed out, the master bedroom; Sirius had said he was going to consider that a sign that Remus had a nasty sense of humor.

Sirius looked around dispiritedly at the results of their efforts. Most of the furniture had been dragged or levitated out. Sirius had splinters. Remus had run through his stock of household spells, and when Sirius ran a hand over the mantelpiece, it came away clean, but the room still felt dusty.

"It's hopeless," he said. "Might as well burn the place down."

"After all this work?" Remus said. "It's been too late to decide on arson since at least tea-time."

"Did we have any?" Sirius said. "Tea, that is?" It seemed as though the day had been one long unpleasant hour.

"You know we did," Remus said. "We knocked off for almost an hour, and had biscuits." He sat down heavily on the unpleasantly patterned carpet on the floor. Sirius had voted for removing it, but Remus had pointed out that it would only mean more splinters. It removed any chance Sirius saw of making the room less than hideous.

Sirius sat gingerly on the bed, not entirely sure the rickety old thing would bear his weight. It was now free of dust, but it was possible that the dust had been all that was holding it together. He was suspicious about the mattress, cleaning spells or no, but there was nothing to do about it. The sheets, brought from Remus's flat, were visibly mended and worn thin, but at least they were clean and white and smelled of lemons.

"What's for supper, then?"

"Sandwiches," Remus said. "Because you said the bedrooms should come before the kitchen, because we could always get takeaway but we've got to sleep here."

"Bugger what I said," Sirius said. "I want a good meal, and I want a hot bath, and I want . . ." He trailed off as he saw Remus watching him with wary amusement. "What?"

"You sound ten," Remus said. "Here, have a sandwich."

Sirius took the offered sandwich and the bottle of butterbeer that Remus passed him next.

"There's hundred-year-old brandy in the wine cellar," Sirius said. "If Kreacher hasn't drunk it all himself."

"We'd have to go down there," Remus said. "And it's dark. And you remember what happened with the spiders earlier."

"I could make Kreacher get it," Sirius said.

"It'd be wasted on us," Remus said. "I don't imagine we need the help to sleep."

"Whenever we get to," Sirius said. "This is the first room we've done."

"It's also the last one we're doing tonight," Remus said. "I'm happy enough with the floor."

"I'm used to sleeping alone," Sirius said, rather sharply.

"So am I," Remus said. "Whatever that's got to do with it." He got up and brushed dust off his robes. "I'll see what I can do next door myself. You needn't help."

"Moony," Sirius said, realizing as he said it that he wasn't sure he had any right to the old nickname anymore.

"Yes, Sirius," Remus said, his hand on the doorframe. He didn't turn around.

"I just mean you don't have to stay and look after me."

Remus turned around, his eyes pale in the candlelight.

"You're the one who seems to think that's what I'm doing," he said.

There was a pause, in which Sirius did some swift reevaluation of the virtues of pride versus honesty.

"Don't leave me alone in here tonight," he said finally.

"I never intended to," Remus said. "It won't be the first time I've slept on the floor."

Sirius had enough presence of mind not to say that Remus had been younger then. He couldn't help thinking, though, that Remus looked worn and tired, and that Sirius would feel guilty seeing how stiff he'd be in the morning.

"You don't have to," Sirius said. "The bed's big enough for about six."

"Is something about your ancestors I should know?" Remus said.

Sirius snorted and flung himself down on the bed, half hoping it would collapse so he could insist that they go back to Remus's for the night.

"If there were any interesting sex scandals, no one remembers," he said. "In the House of Black, you kill the reporters and bribe the witnesses."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Remus said, climbing onto the bed. Sirius moved over to make room.

"Reporters are probably mudbloods," he said, face in the lemon-scented pillow. "Witnesses are probably family. We don't kill family. It cuts down the breeding stock."

"You sound frighteningly like Draco Malfoy when you get in this mood," Remus said, stretching out on the other side of the bed.

"Who?" Sirius said.

"Lucius's son," Remus said patiently. "Your second cousin, or first cousin once removed, or something. I had him in my class at Hogwarts. He's a fairly unpleasant boy, but it's no wonder. I don't like to imagine the horrors he's seen, with Lucius playing host to Voldemort."

"He probably eats it up," Sirius said. "Lucius would have."

The silence stretched out for a bit. It should have been a companionable silence and was instead just a silent silence. Sirius thought he could hear the dust moving, or maybe it was the house, breathing quietly to itself.

"What's the matter?" Remus said finally.

Sirius buried his face in the pillow again.

"Everything," he said, indistinctly. There was a change in the quality of the light. He lifted his head a little. Remus had put the candles out.

"Go to sleep," Remus said, and rested his hands on Sirius's shoulders. It felt good, and it hurt, and it made him want to curl up into a ball and cry. He knew on some level that it was ridiculous to go to pieces at a simple touch, but it had been so long.

"It's all right," Remus said, and no, it wasn't, but with those warm hands stroking his shoulders he could pretend it was long enough to stop fighting sleep.

* * * * *

Remus sat at the breakfast table alone, sipping his tea and eating toast and thinking about seducing Sirius.

He'd had to get up absurdly early to manage a few minutes of peace and quiet. It had been sweet of Molly to come help tackle the horrors of the house, and understandable that she'd wanted to bring Arthur, and of course they hadn't wanted to leave the children alone at a time like this (not that Remus thought that would ever have been a good idea, given the twins' tendency to blow things up), and by the time the party included, for some reason, Hermione Granger, it hardly seemed to matter.

But it made for quite a lot of audience, both for his conversations with Sirius and for his attempts to organize his own thoughts. They were still sleeping together, in the most innocent of senses, but by the time they made it to bed, they were usually too exhausted to say more than, "did you believe where we found the silverware?" They slept curled close in the oversized bed like children, and Remus was sure that was how Sirius thought of it, no more awkward about it than if they were still eleven.

Remus certainly hadn't meant anything else when he'd started. He was worried about Sirius, and Sirius was his friend. He didn't think Sirius fancied men, he didn't think Sirius fancied him, and he didn't think Sirius was up for anything of the sort with anyone, anyway. He'd been grateful for the invitation to share a bed simply because it was the easiest way to keep an eye on Sirius and be there when the nightmares woke him up empty-eyed and shaking as if it had turned bitterly cold.

It was just that it had been a uncomfortably long time since he'd had sex—-he actually had to struggle to remember when, and even then he couldn't remember his name—-and it was starting to be just a bit much to wake up with an attractive man draped over him like a blanket. He'd been exercising self-control, but it had reached the point where falling asleep at night was also tricky.

If they did something about it, Remus thought it might get it out of his system, and he could go back to being patient and understanding and brotherly.

The door to the kitchen creaked open to reveal Molly Weasley in a dressing gown. She smiled at him and began pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Tell me, Molly," Remus said. "What do you do when you think you're trying to sell yourself a bill of goods?"

"Arguing with yourself, Remus?" Molly said. "That's not a good sign."

Remus considered explaining and then decided that although Molly was, in his opinion, the other responsible adult in residence just now, she probably didn't want to hear this. He struck out at something of a tangent.

"You and Arthur met at Hogwarts, didn't you?" he asked, as Molly settled down at the table with her tea.

"We were in Gryffindor together, you know that," Molly said. "I admit I didn't think much of him at first. All books and wild ideas. We all thought the Sorting Hat was daft. Clearly he was a Ravenclaw if anyone had ever seen one. A lot like our Hermione, although Arthur doesn't have her brains, of course." She said the last perfectly matter-of-factly.

"I used to worry that I'd been mis-sorted," Remus said. "Sometimes it didn't seem that anyone else in my year knew what a book was."

"I don't think the Hat makes many mistakes," Molly said. "Besides, if you were worried, that's proof enough. No one but a Gryffindor could live with Gryffindors and like it." There was the thunder of feet upstairs, and Molly winced. "And even then, sometimes it's a bit of a strain."

"I see your point," Remus said.

"You could go home nights," Molly said. "No one would blame you."

"No one will miss me," Remus said. "I don't even have fish."

Molly looked at him critically over her teacup.

"Remus, haven't you ever thought about settling down?"

"What interesting weather we're having lately," Remus said.

"Well, be that way if you like," Molly said. "But we're not any of us getting any younger, you know."

"I am," Sirius said, appearing in the doorway. "I've decided it's really the only alternative that's not depressing." He began pouring himself tea with a clatter.

"I thought you were going to have a lie in," Remus said.

Sirius's shoulders stiffened a little.

"We've got a lot of work to do," he said. "You're the one who keeps going on about early starts and discipline and all the rest."

"Do you feel disciplined enough to start work before breakfast, or would you rather have your tea and toast and read the Prophet?" Remus said. He kept his tone very light.

"Well, now," Sirius said. "All things in moderation." He fielded the section of the paper Remus tossed him.

"Not that there's much worth reading in the paper these days," Molly said.

"I'm still at large," Sirius said, pausing to read an inside page. "Well, that's a comfort. I think I'll clip that one out, just in case I ever have a bad moment."

Remus grinned.

"Yesterday there was one on werewolves among us," he said. "'Could your next-door neighbor be a werewolf?'"

"Is he?" Sirius asked, looking interested.

"I'm sure he's not," Remus said. "And I should know."

There was a great deal of clamor in the hallway outside.

"Remus, the children," Molly said.

"They do know," Remus said mildly.

"I know," Molly said. "I just don't think—-"

"If they know Remus is a werewolf, then I don't see—-" Sirius began.

"Good morning, Hermione," Remus said as she pushed the door open and hesitated in the doorway. "Tea?"

"Is there any coffee?" Hermione said.

"No, but you can make some," Molly said.

Hermione looked about, seeming rather at a loss. Molly and Sirius were looking at each other rather frostily over pieces of the paper. Remus smiled at Hermione.

"There's coffee in the cupboard," he said.

"I'm afraid I haven't practiced much wizard cooking," Hermione admitted finally. "And I don't see anything that looks like a coffee maker."

"What's that?" Sirius asked. "A kind of house-elf?"

"No, it is not," Hermione said sharply. "It's a machine, if you must know. And tea is fine."

"I'll do it," Molly said. "I'm just about done with my tea anyhow."

Remus went back to his own (cold) tea and reflected that if breakfast was this tricky, he had to be mad to be thinking about sex.

* * * * *

Sirius supposed he was grateful that of all the people who could have caught him standing out in the back garden in mid-afternoon, it was only Remus. Mad-Eye would have cursed him to teach him a lesson (and oh, how badly that could have gone), and anyone else would have gotten that patient look people did with him lately, as though they were making allowances. As if it weren't perfectly reasonable to want a bit of fresh air.

Remus merely stood in the doorway watching him.

"Craving a cigarette?" Remus said finally, coming out and shutting the door behind him. He sat down on the step, where Sirius joined him.

"I don't smoke," Sirius said. "You don't smoke."

Remus shook his head a little.

"I was going to say that I quit, but that would be started and quit since . . ."

"Since I got sent to Azkaban," Sirius said. "Seems a lot of people around here could use a lesson in giving things their proper names."

"Molly worries about the children," Remus said. "They're growing up so fast."

"And we didn't?" Sirius said.

"And we did," Remus said. "And look how we turned out."

"Why don't you get angry at me?" Sirius said. "It would be less infuriating."

"I could try," Remus said. "If you care to be insulting a bit more."

"Werewolf," Sirius said.

Remus grinned.

"Say that again."

"Werewolf," Sirius said, grinning back. When they were children, this would have ended with Remus tackling him off the step and rolling him over on the grass. That didn't seem likely now.

"That's odd," Remus said, glancing back over his shoulder. Sirius followed his gaze.

"What--oof!"

Sirius let himself be knocked off the step, he told himself, for old times's sake. Possibly, he thought, face down in the grass, he hadn't had much choice in the matter. Remus was lying on top of him laughing helplessly into his shoulder.

"If you could have seen your face . . ." he said.

"Moony, you're a dead man," Sirius said.

"Am I," Remus said, and pinned him down when he tried to struggle. "You're out of practice."

"Just say 'constant vigilance' and I'll . . ." Sirius said.

"What will you do?" Remus said, low and dangerous. His knee was between Sirius's thighs, his arm holding down Sirius's shoulders. It wasn't really at all the same as it used to be, although the erection pressing against his thigh was familiar enough from wrestling matches when they'd all been sixteen and hadn't needed much to get going.

Remus had his weight on his other hand. Sirius let himself sag to the grass, as if giving up, and then bit Remus's wrist.

Remus swore and rolled off of him. Sirius took the opportunity to sit up. Remus lay on his back, looking up at him, breathing hard as if they'd been running.

Sirius decided he might as well press his advantage. He pushed Remus back down when he tried to sit up and straddled him.

"How do you like that?" he said.

Remus let out a breath in what might have been a laugh and twisted underneath him. Sirius bore down against his hips, surprised at how good it felt.

"Say it again," Remus said.

"Werewolf."

Remus moved under him, not quite struggling. Sirius rubbed against him, their movements getting closer to a rhythm.

Remus looked up at him with a faint, hungry smile.

"Constant vigilance," he said, and pushed his hand between Sirius's legs.

Sirius rubbed up against his hand and swore and came messily, leaving Remus stroking the damp fabric of his trousers as he shuddered. He couldn't seem to stop moving his hips.

For all that they'd sometimes played awfully physical games, this was different. They weren't sixteen. Then again, he wasn't sure he cared, but before he could say so, Remus pushed him off.

"I'm too old for this," Remus said, sitting up and brushing off his clothes. He seemed to be ignoring what had just happened, which Sirius thought was a plan.

"You started it," Sirius said with a smirk.

Remus shrugged.

"Would anyone else believe that?"

"Probably not," Sirius said, which seemed a little sad to him. Remus was so serious these days.

"They'd probably be offended on my behalf," Remus said.

"You're not, are you?" Sirius asked.

"What?"

"Offended."

"Do you have to ask?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "I don't know what it's been like, do I?"

"I'm not offended," Remus said, which was an answer to the question but also a flat refusal to talk about it. He looked tired. Sirius wished he hadn't asked.

"I'm going in," Sirius said, getting up. "Are you coming?"

"In a minute," Remus said. "I want to get warm."

If Sirius had still been sitting next to him, he could have thrown himself down on the grass next to Remus and basked in the sun himself, but it seemed awkward now. He went in and shut the door behind him.

* * * * *

When he heard the door slam, Remus lay back in the grass with his eyes closed. He'd spent the morning carefully weighing pros and cons and constructing a plan of attack, and now in five minutes Sirius had left him with his entire train of thought in shambles. His wrist stung.

It's no wonder that odd things happen, we're under a lot of stress, he thought, and then it's probably a mercy it didn't go any farther, and then would two more minutes have killed him? Git.

The door opened and closed, and Remus looked up in a moment of hope that was quickly dashed when he saw it was Hermione. He closed his eyes and tried to readjust his frame of mind to something suitable for dealing with fifteen-year-old girls.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione said. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Remus said. "I was just taking a few moments to think."

"Ah," Hermione said, as if that made perfect sense. Remus opened his eyes to see her settling under a tree with a pile of schoolbooks. "It's hard to think in there."

"Well," Remus said. "I should get back to work."

"Maybe it's none of my business," Hermione said quickly, "but I hope that if you've been fighting—well, I wouldn't take it too seriously. Sirius is upset and being here obviously brings back a lot of memories for him and I just don't think you should take anything he does right now personally."

"Believe me, Hermione, I don't," Remus said. "And we haven't been fighting."

"Good," Hermione said. "Everyone else is."

"It's just a difficult time for people," Remus said.

"I know," Hermione said. "But it's the only time we've got, isn't it? I mean, yes, Voldemort has returned and we could all be killed next week and all the rest of it, but we've just got to make the best of it. We might as well do our homework while no one's trying to kill us instead of waiting until someone is."

"I wish I'd been half as sensible at your age," Remus said.

"I can't imagine you being my age," Hermione said.

"Well, that was before they invented writing, so no records from the time survive," Remus said dryly.

"I didn't mean—-I think you're quite—-you know, it's hard to read out here, the sun's getting in my eyes. I think I'll go inside now, that'll probably be quieter for you anyway, won't it?"

Remus watched her gather up her books and go, feeling that perhaps he should give up on having a sense of humor. It only seemed to cause trouble.

He thought he dealt fairly well with the rest of the day. It was easy enough not to talk to Sirius while they worked, and dinner was a noisy affair with so many people. Ron rattled on about something alarming he'd found under the sofa, with Hermione making deflating comments like "it wasn't a foot long, it was a few inches at best."

Remus watched Sirius eat with undisguised pleasure and talk at the same time. Ron looked wide-eyed at the story he was telling, and Hermione couldn't restrain a skeptical smile. Sirius licked spaghetti sauce from the corner of his mouth and smiled so Remus could see his teeth.

Remus went up to bed first, hoping he could change and be asleep or at least pretending by the time Sirius came in. He'd managed to change but was sitting on the edge of the bed in a nightshirt when Sirius came in. He'd already shut the door when he saw Remus, and there were footsteps in the hall outside.

"Well," Sirius said. "We should get some sleep, then."

"That's what I'm trying to do," Remus said, and climbed into bed. He pushed at the pillow and blanket, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't working.

Sirius put out the light and climbed into bed next to him. He could feel the bed shift under Sirius's weight. Sirius settled next to him, sprawled on his stomach, face turned away. It was quiet in the darkness. Remus could tell from his breathing that Sirius wasn't asleep.

They weren't quite touching, a few inches of bed and a wall of crumpled blanket between them. Remus thought it might be all right if they didn't touch, although he didn't see how he could sleep. Sirius moved his head and his hair brushed against the inside of Remus's wrist.

Remus closed his eyes. He moved his hand away with great care.

Sirius rolled over onto his back.

"Remus," he said. "About this afternoon."

"It's all right," Remus said, making his voice warm. "Don't worry about it."

"It's just," Sirius said. "Well, it's been so long. Since anything. And sharing a bed like this. It's just a little much."

"I could find another bed," Remus said.

"You don't have to," Sirius said, turning over to look at him. "It's just been a long time, and when you—-"

Remus knew he shouldn't prop himself up on his elbows and lean in closer. He did it anyway.

"When I do this?" he said.

"Yes," Sirius said, a little breathlessly.

"When I do this," Remus said, leaning down so that he could feel the heat of Sirius's body under his.

"Now you're doing it on purpose," Sirius said. He looked up at Remus, looking at his mouth like he wanted to taste it. "It would serve you right if I just—-"

Remus kissed him, hard, tasting his mouth and running his tongue over his teeth. They did that for a while, mouths working hungrily, coming apart for air and then tasting each other again. Neither of them seemed to have anything more to say.

Remus broke away, finally, and moved his mouth to the curve of Sirius's neck. So good and so wrong. He sucked at the flesh and half-hoped Sirius didn't know how much he wanted to bite and half-hoped that he did.

Sirius bit his ear, hard. He couldn't stay quiet.

Sirius laughed.

Remus pushed him down and got on top of him, pressing his mouth against Sirius's to stop that infuriating laughter, rubbing their bodies together. Sirius ran one hand down his back and then brushed it down the cleft between his buttocks.

"You like that," Sirius said. "Werewolf."

"Yes," Remus said, just a breath against Sirius's shoulder, all he could manage. Sirius laughed again, and Remus wanted to hit him. He worked his hand between Remus's legs, and Remus rocked against the pressure.

"I think you deserve this," Sirius said. "For what you did earlier."

"For what I did?" Remus said. He was finding it hard to talk.

"For what you did," Sirius said. "It wasn't very fair."

"I want this," Remus said, "I want you," and it was as if Sirius had been waiting for that because something shifted in his movements and they were rocking together, Sirius's hand on him as he ground down hard. He wanted more, and he wanted to spend a year just like this, moving in Sirius's hand and smelling his skin.

He wasn't ready to come, and then all at once he knew he was going to. Sirius saw it, too, and that was the worst (best) thing, Sirius's little smile of triumph.

"Yes," Sirius said, and that was enough.

Remus came and felt the warm wetness of it in Sirius's hand, still rubbing up and down on him. He bit Sirius's shirt trying to keep from moaning. He managed to let go with his teeth finally, but realized he was still hanging on with both hands, pulling at Sirius's shirt and pressing their bodies together.

He let go, finally, and rolled off Sirius.

"Are you happy now?" he said.

"Yes," Sirius said. There was a long quiet pause. "Although. Er."

Remus chuckled.

"Well, that's really your problem, isn't it?"

"Moony," Sirius complained, and Remus slid his hand down Sirius's belly and under the waistline of his pajama pants.

"Oh, fine," he said.

"Ah. Fuck. Moony."

"Yes," Remus said, pressing Sirius's shoulder down with his other hand. Sirius was sweating, eyes closed, straining against his hand. Remus wasn't sure it mattered that it was him or even that it was anybody.

You couldn't even do this in Azkaban, could you? he wanted to say, and didn't, afraid it was just one more impulse to wound. Instead he kept up what he was doing, adding his mouth on Sirius's collarbone, hard bruising kisses that were almost enough.

"I can't--" Sirius said, and then "I will," and then he did. He breathed hard for a minute, eyes closed, and then rolled over and buried his face in Remus's shoulder. He stayed like that for a long time.

"It's only me," Remus said, and that seemed to be either the right or wrong thing to say, depending on your point of view, because Sirius's breathing went ragged for a while and then slowed, gradually. The darkness seemed heavier and warmer, like a blanket over the two of them. He shifted his weight carefully until his neck wasn't aching and fell asleep.

* * * * *

Sirius was warm, with the morning sun easing the aches out of his back, and for the longest time after he woke up he lay with his eyes closed and tried to ignore the part of his mind that said there was something terribly important that he should remember.

The bed smelled of sex.

Sex is good.

Memory returned like the clatter of breakfast dishes he could hear somewhere below.

Oh, fuck.

He propped himself up on one elbow. Remus was sleeping curled toward him, hair disordered and shirt wrinkled. His hair had gone so gray, almost silver in the morning light that wasn't kind to the lines of his face. Sirius wondered if he looked that old. He couldn't.

Remus opened his eyes.

"Good morning," Remus said after a minute.

"Oh, God," Sirius said. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Remus said. "I know that's not the kind of thing you do."

"Well. No," Sirius said.

"So. There we are," Remus said.

"I know that's not the kind of thing you do," Sirius said.

"Well. Actually," Remus said.

"Oh," Sirius said intelligently. He frowned. "Why didn't I know that?"

"Well, to start with, because you would have been a complete bastard about it."

"I would not have."

"You would have," Remus said. He shrugged, and looked at the ceiling. "Besides, by the time I really sorted it out, you lot were all on about girls, and I . . . suppose I was tired of being different."

"I can see that," Sirius said.

"I'd wondered," Remus said, "but I thought I'd get over it. You and James seemed to." Sirius started to object, and then wondered what he was starting to object to. "And then I started making out with a boy, and it clarified some things."

"James?" Sirius said, not entirely liking the idea.

Remus gave him an unreadable look.

"Believe it or not, Sirius, I did know other people, even when we were in school. He was a Ravenclaw. We met in the library. We didn't talk much."

"I can't believe I didn't know."

"Just because I know the meaning of the word discretion?" Remus said. "Didn't you wonder where I was all those evenings?"

"You said you were studying. I thought you were studying."

Remus shrugged.

"So, do you have a--"

Remus raised his eyebrows.

"Does it look like I do?"

"Why not?"

"Tried it," Remus said. "Went badly." He sighed. "Besides, if we're talking about lately, for a year I was at Hogwarts, where my opportunities were seriously limited and after that--well, every once in a while I decide people are too much trouble. I spent six months in a small cottage in the Outer Hebrides. It was very cold. There were sheep."

"Woof," Sirius said. "That's what I could do after--when it's all over. Be a sheepdog. You could be a shepherd. We could be colleagues."

"I don't like sheep," Remus said. "And I think sheepdogs need special training."

"Woof, woof," Sirius said. "Get in the bloody barn or I'll eat you. Woof."

"They don't understand threats, Sirius," Remus said. "They're sheep."

"Can we have more sex?" Sirius said.

Remus looked thoughtful.

"Can we take our clothes off this time?"

"What, on the first date?"

"We're not dating, Padfoot--" Remus broke off, looking angry at himself.

"I don't mind if you call me--"

"I mind," Remus said.

"Oh," Sirius said.

There was a long pause.

"So, do you still want to have sex?" Remus said.

"Absolutely," Sirius said. Remus rolled over into his arms and kissed him. Sirius returned the kiss with enthusiasm. It looked like they were done with talking for right now, which as far as he was concerned was all to the good. His body seemed to be trying to make up for lost time, and he closed his eyes and rubbed up against Remus and tried very hard not to think at all.

* * * * *

Remus went down for lunch with all the awkward self-consciousness of not having gone down for breakfast because he was in bed with Sirius. Who, he might add, had the effrontery to look not in the least ruffled; he was eating sandwiches and occasionally looking across the table at Remus with a smile that invariably made him look away and flush.

Arthur was rattling on about some Muggle invention to do with automobiles, but Molly was unusually quiet, only interrupting occasionally to point out that it was nothing to do with them, was it, because they did not and would not have a car. After lunch she took Remus's arm.

"Remus, dear, come and help me get the dishes put away." It wasn't a request.

The kitchen door closed behind them, shutting out the increasingly distant murmur of voices dispersing to the afternoon's fields of combat with the house.

"If you're going to tell me why this is a bad idea, believe me, I already know," Remus said.

"I was going to ask if you do remember how to do a Silencing Charm from school," Molly said. "Noise does carry in old houses like this."

"Oh, God," Remus said.

"It's not as if Arthur and I could hear much--" Molly started.

"Don't try to spare my feelings," Remus said. "I'm hoping to actually die of embarrassment so that all my suffering will be over."

"Well, Remus, what do you expect when you--"

"I know," Remus said. He put his head down on the table. "I know. I know. I know." Eventually he lifted his head again, because expiring from embarrassment didn't seem to be an option. "I'm sorry, Molly. I assure you I'll be more careful in the future."

"I'm sure you will," Molly said, looking both amused and disapproving. Remus got up and began stacking dishes, piling them on the counter for her. "You know, it's really none of my business--"

"We'll try to be more discreet," Remus said. "Really."

"It's not that," Molly said. "Just--don't you think you're a little old for this kind of thing? It's one thing in school, practicing kisses and such, or more if you like--" She smiled as if at some private memory. "But that's playing at what you should be doing for real now."

"I'm not going to get over it," Remus said. "And I don't want to. And whatever you may think, this isn't a schoolboy crush."

"What is it, then?" Molly said. "True love?"

"Of course I love Sirius," Remus said. He thought that went without saying.

She frowned at him.

"You don't have any idea what you're doing, do you?"

"Not a clue," Remus said.

"I just don't think this can end well," Molly said.

"I know," Remus said, but he thought that might not be the important thing just now.

* * * * *

Sirius was working in his father's study, throwing out things with grim abandon; Kreacher was being occupied in some other part of the house by Arthur, who Sirius thought he was going to owe quite a lot.

"Can I help?" Remus said, standing in the doorway.

"You don't have to," Sirius said.

"I know," Remus said. He poked at a dusty pile of papers on the sofa. "What's all this?"

"Accounts, I think. It might be important. I'm not sure I care."

"You might," Remus said, beginning to stack the papers neatly in a box. The lines of his shoulders were tight, his face too still.

"Are you sorry?" Sirius said.

"You know, not everything is about you, Sirius," Remus said, with a faint smile.

"What, then?" Sirius said.

Remus sat down heavily in the space he'd cleared on the sofa.

"We still haven't heard from Harry," he said.

"What, not at all?" Sirius frowned. "Well, we'll see about that. Come on, we can Apparate there and get him and still be back in time to--"

Remus was shaking his head.

"Just the two of us? Assuming there is something wrong--and we don't know that there is--would you really want us to walk in there alone?"

"Remus, it's Harry. So we run into some trouble. We can handle it."
Sirius grinned. "It'll be fun."

"You haven't changed," Remus said.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sirius said.

"You're an idiot," Remus said.

"Moony--"

"And, you know, we're not sixteen anymore. At least, I'm not."

"Remus?" Sirius said, a little stiffly. "What's the matter?"

"At least you want to take me with you this time," Remus said.

"Of course I do," Sirius said, and then, "Oh. Hell."

"I suppose you've learned your lesson there," Remus said.

"I thought you were--" Sirius said.

"I know," Remus said. "I even understand. Werewolf and all."

"Secretive and all," Sirius said defensively. "I barely saw you the year after we left school, except at Order meetings and when the moon was full--"

"I had to learn to get by on my own," Remus said.

"Why?" Sirius said. "You had friends."

"Just as well that I did learn," Remus said. "As it turned out."

Something in that tone made Sirius's chest ache. He wanted to wrap his arms around Remus, and wasn't sure Remus would let him.

"I'll be here," Sirius said. "Next full moon."

"I should think so," Remus said. "Since that's tomorrow night."

"Is it?"

"You don't have to--"

"You don't think I'd miss it," Sirius said.

Remus smiled.

"Not much to miss. I'll take the potion. I'll be a perfectly well-behaved wolf."

"We could Apparate somewhere," Sirius said. "The Outer Hebrides, say. It'd be perfectly safe."

"No, Sirius," Remus said. "I don't think so."

"All right," Sirius said, sitting down on the floor in front of him and leaning against his knees. "I'll have to think of a way to keep us entertained."

"If that was a proposition, I think I should be appalled."

"Are you?"

"Well." Sirius could almost hear Remus smile. "You know that some real wolves do . . ."

"I gathered as much, since you tried to."

"God. I didn't."

"Well, on occasion. When Padfoot was the only one there."

"Thank you for never, ever telling me that," Remus said.

"It seemed too cruel," Sirius said.

Remus laughed. His hands came to rest in Sirius's hair.

"I've had to learn to get by on my own," he said after a while.

"I don't think you'll forget how," Sirius said.

"I hope not," Remus said. He shook his head. "Mad-Eye will be back at the end of the week. If we still haven't heard from Harry by then, we'll get him to mount a rescue."

"Don't you think Mad-Eye's idea of a rescue will be overkill?" Sirius said.

"I hope so," Remus said. He pushed Sirius away and stood up. "Come on, let's get this cleared out before teatime."

Sirius went back to excavating the desk. He brushed the dust off a perpetual calendar he remembered had hung on the wall behind the desk and stared at it blankly.

"What?" Remus asked from behind him, his hands full of crockery.

"I always used to know when the full moon was," he said. "Always."

"I can fix that," Remus said. He took out his wand and touched it to the long roll of parchment. "Ephemeris."

Silvery moons began to sketch themselves down the parchment, new and crescent and half and full. They were joined by notes on the aspects of the planets, written in silver in what looked suspiciously like Remus's crabbed handwriting.

"That would have done wonders for my Astronomy marks," Sirius said. "Never mind Divination."

"It comes in handy," Remus said. "Although I expect you meant to throw that out."

"It's not so bad," Sirius said. He rather liked the sight of it covered in silver, covered in Remus's handwriting. He liked the idea that Remus was replacing the dust with his fingerprints wherever he touched. Maybe even on his skin.

He brushed his fingers over the silver figures on the parchment.

"It won't rub off," Remus said. "I know what I'm doing."

"You always do," Sirius said.

* * * * *

They climbed into bed together that night, and had a few moments of wordless awkwardness before Sirius was pressing Remus down into the mattress and kissing him furiously. They actually did get most of their clothes off that time, and Remus thought next time they might actually be able to control themselves long enough to actually fuck; he wasn't sure how long this was going to last, and he didn't want to miss the chance.

He curled up with Sirius against his back and tried to sleep. His heart was beating too fast with either the growing brightness of the moon or the awareness of Sirius's body behind him. He tried not to toss and turn.

"Remus," Sirius said after a while, putting his hand on Remus's shoulder. "Can't you sleep?"

"I don't mean to keep you awake," Remus said.

"It's all right," Sirius said. "You used to get like this."

"You used to sit up and play cards with me," Remus said. "Or plan some silly prank that would keep us out all night."

"Why didn't we ever think of having sex?" Sirius said.

Remus smiled.

"You weren't the one I used to think about," he said.

Sirius rubbed Remus's shoulders.

"Did he know?" he asked eventually.

Remus shook his head.

"I hope not. He would have--"

"He would have hated having to say no to you," Sirius said. "James always did."

"Sirius, did you and James--"

"No," Sirius said. "Well, not really."

"So this is just--"

"Just what?"

Remus shrugged.

"I want to do this," Sirius said.

Remus wanted to turn around and say any number of unhelpful things, like please don't leave me again and you know that I love you and I've probably lost my mind.

What he let himself do was reach back and put his cold hand over Sirius's warm one. He could feel Sirius's breath warm on the back of his neck.

"So do I," he said, and moved his hand away before Sirius could either twine his fingers closer or let go.



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