Remus lowered his coffee cup to the table after reading the letter. So. Dumbledore had told Sirius to come here. The tired man sighed and rubbed his temples as the coffee clinked lightly against the table top. It was going to be hard having Sirius around him all the time after he finished his rounds to the old crowd. It was like Sirius was back from Hell, it had been so long. It didn't help that Remus had long since built walls around him, mental blocks to their friendship over the past dark years, let alone their actual relationship. It felt like a dream that Sirius was innocent; a whispered daydream barely allowed to become an actual thought in the light of a summer morn or the darkest December night. For Sirius to be alive and breathing and well and innocent was enough make Remus stop in his tracks, stop everything, and try to swallow the news with his heart pounding and eyes wide.
Remus remembered back to last year while the Daily Prophet lay unread before him to the night in the Shrieking Shack when he had learned the truth. The pair had corresponded since, of course, but there wasn't much in the pages. Not really. There was too much chance that the owls could be intercepted en route. Mostly what was written was along the lines of, "I'm safe and well, I hope you are too," with the occasional long narrative or rushed and emotional rants and confessions that were filled with regret and rage that somehow managed to never touch the subject of their relationship, and rather focused on remorse and love for Lily, James, and Harry, or raging vengeance against Peter. All was written by a hand that was so unused to writing that the lines and curves were shaky and imprecise, so unlike what Remus still had written in the textbooks from his years at school. They had both changed so much with the separation from the truth and each other in the past years, and yet oddly remained the same.
It amazed him, now that he thought about it. He hadn't before because it hurt too much to consider Sirius was innocent and what the consequences of that might be. Now there was a situation that he had never expected or even dared to believe possible, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. That he had once loved Sirius Black and was loved back by him was the ghost in the machine. He didn't know where they stood, thirteen years later, or even if they stood at all. Things change and people change in the span of thirteen years. There were people that "experimented" when they were young, changed their minds and settled down with a wife, two kids, and a dog. Remus himself had never settled down. The idea of a relationship with anybody, male, female, or Sirius Black in the past years seemed beyond question and reach.
Then there were the horrors of Azkaban to deal with. It was a change in Sirius that was much more than mere sexual orientation. Remus suddenly dropped his to his palm, berating himself for being so selfish as to wonder about their relationship like 12-year-old school girl. Azkaban was a completely different situation all together. Remus had been free to feel his grief and to finally attempt to get back on his feet again when the time came for it. Sirius had to relive his worst memories without hope of clawing his way through it all. He drowned in them every moment under the unwavering stare of a Dementor. Remus remembered what it felt like, and he couldn't imagine living in that abyss for any longer than he already had. The last thing Sirius would want or need is to think of the complications of a romantic relationship. The thing Sirius needed the most right now was a friend. And indeed, Remus thought, we are friends.
Remus sighed and sipped his coffee again, this time wishing some of Ogden's Olde Firewhiskey was mixed in. It was going to be rough at first, for better or worse. Once they got over the initial stiffness of reintroduction, Remus concluded it was bound to smooth out. It was going to be a jolt for them both, he figured. Sirius had been on the run for around two years now. Remus hadn't even thought about having someone else in his house for ages.
That meant that actual cleaning had to be done. Remus yawned and stood, looking forward to the housework. As a determined bachelor who didn't even bother dating, the house was tidy enough; Remus just wanted something to do to keep his mind off of Sirius's arrival that evening. The moon had been 6 days ago and the last quarter was tomorrow. As a result, Remus was always tired, but never sleepy the week after full moons. He passed his days and nights completely in a flat-lined state of consciousness, similar to that of an insomniac in a limbo of awareness and dreams. The monotonous motions of housework were perfect for him right now. He also needed something to keep him from obsessing and over-thinking, as he was sometimes known to do.
Remus set to work cleaning up his kitchen. It was small, but cozy and simple. Since it was originally a Muggle cottage (he lived in a mixed village), the yellow refrigerator hummed to itself in the corner. Next to it was the old stove that clicked every now and then while he cooked. Above them were the cabinets filled with all sorts of mugs, cups, glasses, and Tupperware. He had his sink, in which the ever-washing sponge and handle brush washed his plate. To the sink's right was his favorite part of his kitchen. His windows faced east, so every morning he could read the Daily Prophet and receive owls by the newborn light. His house wasn't much, but it was more home to him than anything else in this world.
As his much loved mug was floating back to its place in the cabinet, there was a tapping at the window. Remus let in a crow, recognizing it as Mundungus Fletcher's. It cawed gratefully when Remus offered a bit of toast and almost-warm coffee to it before looking at the letter. The shaky scrawl that spelled out his name was that of Sirius. Remus sat down as the large scavenger flew out of his window and broke the seal.
Dear Moony,
I suppose by now Dumbledore has informed you of my next stop. I'm looking forward to it. We have much to talk about.
I wish you well and I'll see you soon.
Yours,
Padfoot
Remus's forehead frowned as he read through the note. He didn't like it when Sirius's letters seemed so impersonal and guardedly polite. True, they had changed a great deal, but they were still Moony and Padfoot, according to their correspondence. It helped make it less traceable to use nicknames anyway. To Remus, it made the letters have a feel of special familiarity, sort of. He couldn't describe it, but the fact that Sirius still called him Moony made him feel like they had a smaller gap between them than previously thought. Maybe it was all an illusion in the text, but the worn down man felt happier with the letters addressed to Moony rather than those addressed to Remus. And then they were always signed as "yours." That made some of the premature lines on his young face fade.
It made him think of before Harry was orphaned and he and Sirius had the world at the feet: young, invincible, half-crazy, and full to brimming with life. When they told him that Sirius had gone to Azkaban, Remus just died. It took him years before he could set foot back into the world, and the truth of that Halloween night floored him. Hope was something he was not accustomed to feeling, and though Sirius was on the run, there was the hope of his trial and his innocence proven and freedom granted. That is when life would not only be good, that's when Remus could die a happy man.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Remus stood. He knew he needed to get some blankets washed so that Sirius could stay warm. He only had the couch, unless we share a bed…
Remus blinked and shook himself. He hadn't though in any such way since…since he and Sirius were living together back in their late teens. He shook his head again, I shouldn't get my hopes up…besides…Sirius would be too tired to-- Frustrated, Remus went off to the linen closet, shoving away any even vaguely sexual thoughts in his mind.
Sirius could not recall a time when his feet hurt this badly. Not even when Snape cursed all his toenails ingrown did his feet hurt this much. He had left Mundungus's two days ago, and had been trotting ever since. His paws were scarred and bloody from contacting all the old Order; tearing them up between destinations only for the once-soft pads to heal a little, causing greater scarring. They were so rough now that his feet could scrape the grit off of sandpaper. He hadn't eaten since the day before, and that was some discarded beef chow mien in an alley. Even though it was half rotten, it was better than anything at Dung's place. The only thing Mundungus Fletcher regularly bought that resembled an edible substance was various cheap alcoholic beverages. Needless to say that though Sirius did appreciate a good intoxication, especially after Azkaban, he also craved something that looked like food. Something that he used to eat at the Hogwarts table of flung at James for a dirty joke.
The thought of James, unwelcome though it was, was surprisingly a happy one. He'd had a year to heal some of those old/new wounds, but he was a bruised, blue-black mess still on the mend. Padfoot sighed and trudged on. He'd be at Remus's within the next hour. He couldn't take a break now.
Remus was an unusual thought. When Sirius last saw him, he seemed so old and distant. He remembered Remus as a tired, somewhat shy boy, but when he opened up, he blossomed. Remus could smile and laugh just as loud as Sirius and James then, and though he would sometimes turn a blind eye to Padfoot and Prongs' little games (or big games), Remus rarely passed judgment, content to follow rather than lead.
Of course, Remus was nearly opposite now. He had made a life for himself. After all was said and done, his quiet, shy, sweet-smiling Moony had outlasted the most extroverted and fiery of the Marauders.
"His" Moony. Right.
The sun had just moved beyond the horizon, and the sky turned a deep indigo blue. Sirius knew that before long, the sky would be the same color as Remus' eyes. It was a color that both haunted him and that he sorely missed.
He was worried. He was worried because of what this meeting would mean.
It had been thirteen years since he and Remus had shared the same living space. It had been thirteen years since he had felt elation, real happiness, and pure real love for someone. Sirius knew that there were things he did not remember because they were happy. He knew that meeting Remus again would be a turning point in everything.
Padfoot stopped and checked a street sign. Near…another block or so…and oh…it felt so good to stop…just for a minute… Sirius sat and hung his head so that his nose was almost to his bloody paws. The late-June air was warm round him, and there were flowers blooming near him. They smelled wonderful. When he looked, he learned they were growing in a yellow and blue clump.
When he had rested for a few minutes with the smiling clump of aromatic flowers for company, he deemed it time to continue. Unfolding his hindquarters, Padfoot trudged on, now with a slight limp.
He wondered if Remus remembered the time they spent together, or had those perfect times become stained with false betrayal and blood? Did he still love him? Surely Remus had moved on. No one would wait for someone for so long… Did he even want him around? Was he just giving him a place to stay out of duty for Dumbledore? There were too many questions roaming in Sirius's mind for him to consider every one of them. He was mentally and physically far too exhausted to start worrying over an old boyfriend, even if he did have feelings still, if they were really to be called that, for Remus. He knew that at least, if Remus welcomed him only for duty's sake, then he would still receive him with a smile.
Padfoot came to the next small street sign, proclaiming he was on the right street. Panting in the post-twilight, Sirius turned onto Remus' quiet road.
Not far now.
Remus was out of things to busy himself with, so he stood in his second-floor bedroom looking to the west and watching the rising night. He knew that if he sat down in his old green chair, he'd probably end up dosing off and he wanted to be awake for Sirius' arrival. It would look a bit odd to see a bearish black dog insistently scratching his door, even under the cloak of the fresh summer dark. Remus leaned his head against the window's glass and closed his eyes. He wished the glass was cool against his flesh, but it was not. His home was silent save from the noises outside and the house settling.
It wasn't so quiet or alone when he was younger. He and Sirius lived at James and Lily's as much as James and Lily lived with them. Peter was away a lot with "ministry work," but when he was in the area about twice a month or so he stopped by both residences.
Remus knew now what he had really been doing, but he didn't want to think about it. What was done was done, and he couldn't change it. All he could do was pick up what he had left and hope for the best as went on with life.
It was better not to dwell on it. Life had a funny way of making things turn out, even over a period as long as 12 years in prison and fractured healing. Times were better when they didn't know, when they were all 19 and Sirius would call to James in his curious Scottish accent to get his guitar and they'd play little duets together on the porch, occasionally accompanied by Remus's flute.
Remus would never forget when Sirius had disappeared at Lily and James' reception and come back half an hour later in traditional Scottish dress, complete with a kilt. Remus found that kilt undeniably and completely the sexiest article of clothing Sirius ever wore; and Sirius, who was a Scot and bloody well proud of it, wore it very often. He played a lovely little wedding jig on a set of bagpipes that no one had seen before and no one knew he could play or play well. It was quite surprise for everyone, needless to say.
While they were in Hogwarts, the Marauders all decided to learn to play a respective instrument or two. Sirius liked guitar well enough, but his real passion was the fiddle. James was content with a guitar. Remus himself already learned piano when he was very young, but decided to play a flute. It was Sirius's idea for the flute, because he wanted to play Scottish music. Remus guessed that they should have known Sirius knew bagpipes by then or he wouldn't have been so eager for a Celtic-style band. Peter opted out of actual playing and instead played a bit of a manager. They played down at the Three Broomsticks their seventh year for Christmas due to Peter's persuasive words. But oh, it was wonderful to make a song with your best friends and your lover. It was wonderful when Sirius played him a song that he made up for him for his birthday on that elegant violin. It was wonderful when they could make music of a different sort later that night.
But years had passed and hearts had cracked, and things were far different now. The silence of Remus's cottage was the bittersweet silence of summer; not a hint of that old, mystic music in the air. Remus had kept their instruments from long ago. He wondered where they were…He had sold his piano years ago because he needed the money, but he still had his flute surely. He decided, as the streetlamps' glow intensified as the indigo blue faded closer to black, that he should give James's lovely guitar to Harry the next time he could. It was the right thing to do…
His thoughts of James halted as a flicker of movement on the streets caught his eye. His gaze upon it, it darted fleetingly through the golden halo of a streetlight. It was an enormous black dog. Remus's breath caught in his throat. Padfoot was limping fairly badly and looked as if he'd been a stray for a few weeks as opposed to days. The dog's long, pink tongue lolled from his panting snout. His shaggy head bowed, the great black beast staggered to Remus's front door. A moment later, the sound of blunt claws on the wood crept through the otherwise silent cottage. The moment had arrived. Sirius was here.
Remus blinked and exhaled before rushing down the stairs and to the door. Taking one more calming breath, he turned the deadbolt.
Before him, to the ignorant bystander, was a tired old stray that wanted nothing more than a few dinner scraps. Padfoot, having looked shaggy from afar, was much more ragged face to face. Remus noticed that there was a nick in his left ear now and even as a dog, Sirius seemed to have dark circles under the light eyes. His paws were caked with mud and dried blood.
Remus, getting over the shock, stepped aside and smiled, "Come in, Sirius. It is good to see you again."
Padfoot's pointed black ears perked up a little, and he crossed the threshold of Remus's home. Remus realized that Sirius had given him a similar inspection.
Remus led the way from the foyer towards the kitchen and living room, "You must be tired. I've got a mound of blankets in the living room and a fire going by the couch. Are you hungry?"
Remus turned back, expecting to Sirius as a man, but found Padfoot's form still in the foyer. Padfoot's head rose and he nodded, wagging his tail once or twice.
"Alright..." Remus motioned towards the kitchen and Sirius wandered towards the linoleum flooring from the foyer's rug. "I could scramble you some eggs quick enough, how's that?"
Padfoot nodded again and sat at the edge of the kitchen closest to the living room and the happy fire, content to sit and be warm. Remus rummaged through the refrigerator and turned on the stove, which promptly began its clicking noise.
Sirius watched as Remus cracked the eggs against the bowl and whipped them all to one gooey, yellow goodness. His vantage point from the floor was rather limited however, but sitting…oh, yes, sit, this is good…
He was just so tired. He couldn't make up his mind if he wanted food or sleep more. He decided that sleeping was far better on a full stomach than an empty one, so he kept himself barely awake by watching Remus watch the skillet. He realized how very much he wanted to speak with him. It had been so very long since they had a decent, unhurried, face-to-face conversation. The prospect of one just a second's worth of effort away was tempting, but...not just yet. Being human would mean speaking intelligently. Speaking intelligently would mean more effort and it would also mean hardly any sleep at all. No sleep in the next ten minutes was like birds without wings or the sky without stars: anti-climatical and disappointing beyond what he could bear.
So instead of becoming his normal form, Sirius dosed halfheartedly until a bowl of heavenly-scented, steaming, spongy, yellow cloud was before him. He didn't even notice that by Remus's giving him his food on the floor was the retired professor's ways of saying, ‘wait until morning.' Sirius swallowed down the eggs in a few hurried bites, guessing that there had been about five total in the chipped ceramic bowl before him.
He was licking the last runny bit of yolk from the bowl when Remus smiled and said, "Tomorrow I'll go down to the market and re-stock. For now, there are blankets over here…" Remus led the way into the living room. The fire was full of merry warmth that was welcome even in late June. The couch, a cozy, plaid-covered bit of furniture, faced it from the opposite wall. Next to it was said large pile of blankets. Remus put a few pillows on the couch with the blankets. "If you need anything, I'll be upstairs. We've got all day tomorrow to catch up. Goodnight, Sirius." He ran a hand between Padfoot's pointed ears and quietly climbed to his own sleeping space.
Sirius was too tired to care how stiff Remus sounded behind the warm salutation. Ignoring the blankets and pillows, he collapsed in front of the fireplace. Oblivion came soon after.
A few hours later, Sirius awoke to a fuzzy state of semi-consciousness. He knew he was lying on Remus's floor, and also knew that he was dreaming. Two figures stood on either side of him, both with strong fingers bruising his biceps. Down a stone-floored corridor, he walked in silent darkness with only a single torch, the click of boot heels, and the rattle of chains to break the living abyss around him. His head was bowed; his only thoughts wavered between James and the temperature. Cold wasn't even strong enough to cover the liquid icy touch of the air through his simple linen robe. The fingers, curled into his arms like claws, forced an abrupt right, leading to a stone staircase. His feet, shackled, barely had enough slack to get from one step to the next. He finally tripped himself, and the sentries on either side of him dragged him the rest of the way. At the top, back on his feet, he walked on until the grim triumvirate halted at a barred door towards the end.
"Prisoner number 2319: Sirius Orion Black," a cold male voice, like satin over thorns, spoke in the half-light by the gate-like door. When Sirius turned to look, Barty Crouch, Sr. stood nicely dressed with wand in hand.
Sirius raised his aching head, unwittingly showing Crouch his cuts and bruises from his arrest. His unfocused sky blue eyes were shocking in the low light. "James…" he whispered.
"Yes, James," Crouch sneered as the barred door opened magically. The sentries forced his shaking frame through. Sirius stood and faced the doorway with Crouch framed in it.
The Ministry man curled his lip, "You killed him," and slammed the door.
Remus's eyes flicked to the den's open doorway from the kitchen. Setting down the milk carton, he edged to the entryway, from which a cry had issued from an instant before. Popping his head through to see if Sirius was alright, he barely opened the door.
Sirius, the man, shaken and wide-eyed, was staring at the fire's dying embers and panting. He was still on the hearth rug, wearing faded linen robes and barefoot. His lips barely moved, but no sound came through.
Remus, uncertain and rooted to the spot, just watched while his light eyebrows knit together. After a few moments, Sirius relaxed a little and closed his eyes, placing his hands over them and falling silent. Remus felt awkward and intruding, and took a step backward.
"Don't," was the darker man's whispered plea that froze Remus in his tracks. "Don't leave." Sirius's bright eyes looked over at Remus from around his hands, "If you leave then I'll be alone, and I'm so tired of being alone." He paused, then, "Moony?"
"Yes, Padfoot?" Remus came forward into the room, feeling the silky heat of the dying fire.
"Don't leave."
Remus sat down next to Sirius on the hearth, curling his legs beneath him, "I'm not. I'm right here."
Sirius locked eyes with Remus, and the latter was shocked by the changes in the fugitive's face. Sirius was enshrouded in darkness and filth when the professor had seem him in the Shrieking Shack, and when Sirius's eyes met his, he was the mark of 12 years in hell. The darker man's face, though only 34, was grizzled and haggard roughly. His cheeks were sharply inverted and smudges of dark were beneath his eyes. Sirius's eyes were the only thing that looked alive due to their intense light blue. Though it was very dark, they were unsteady and unfocused until they found Remus's to stare back at him.
Remus touched Sirius's arm slowly while Sirius watched the heartfelt action. A frown on his forehead, Sirius placed his own knobby fingers over the softly worn fingers of the gentle Wolf.
"By God, Moony, how I missed you," Sirius began. A frown appeared in the other man's forehead. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I knew that James was gone…I was there, I saw him in the rubble of that beautiful house. I saw Lily's red hair spilling out of Harry's room, and I was just thinking, ‘Oh, no.' I almost didn't go to see, but then I heard him crying and there he was with that great bloody gash on his forehead. By the time Hagrid got there, the only thing I thought of was Peter and how much he deserved to die," Sirius paused and glanced at Remus, whose face was intent with a strong sorrow in the dim orange glow. "I'm sorry," the darker man faltered, "I-I didn't think. It was all a red haze."
Remus nodded slowly and quietly replied, "I understand."
"And after the street just blew up," Sirius's eyes were distant, seeing something only he knew. Remus listened on. "All those people just...just vanished…in the blast…I didn't know what to do," Sirius sighed shakily. "I knew I was as good as dead…so I just laughed," his voice cracked on the last word. He took a breath before continuing, "With the tears falling and everything…I just—" Sirius cut himself off. His face looked as dead as Remus had ever seen it. The werewolf gently squeezed his shoulder. Sirius didn't react at first, and then slowly turned his living eyes to those of Remus.
The latter swallowed, "Sirius…"
"Remus," Sirius whimpered in return and buried his face in the nook of his friend's neck. "I was so afraid…I couldn't tell you, I couldn't see you, I was afraid I'd lost you forever…"
Remus wrapped his arms around the quivering, bony shoulders, pressing his cheek to the shaggy black hair.
Sirius continued between shaky breaths and dry sobs, "And what I saw around the-the Dementors…I saw James's face frozen forever with th-that green tinge. I kept going back to his face and Lily's red hair…then to that street with…bits of people falling around me…I never stopped reliving that night and the day after…"
Remus hugged Sirius closer in spite of himself. The shattered voice broke his heart. "It's over Sirius," he whispered, "It's all over…"
Sirius held Remus as if he were afraid the gods would steal him away while he lay curled in Remus's embrace. His flesh quivered against the fallen floodgates, and though he'd long since stopped fighting the grief, Remus's presence was new. He finally had someone to cling to, someone who had went through the same heartbreak all those years ago of having life and love blown apart in a blast of green glare.
And Remus was so warm. The first warm creature Sirius had held in his arms since Azkaban. The first warm creature that forgave him. The first warm creature to hold him too.
Remus listened to Sirius as his shaky breathing finally began to steady. Neither of them moved when a teardrop fell onto Remus's shoulder. Neither of them moved as the dying embers in the fireplace began to extinguish. Neither moved when they finally dozed on each others' shoulders. Neither moved when the chilly dawn rose with silvery gold fingertips across the sky.
It was close to noon when Remus awoke curled around Sirius on the hearth. Sirius was still in slumber, but his face looked peaceful. Remus, having not woken next to Sirius in over a decade, indulged in sharing a sleeping space with him.
He studied Sirius's face and hair. It was much too matted to keep its length, but after the impossible tangles were cut out, it wouldn't be too short, and it would be very easy for Sirius to grow it out long like he used to have it when they were 20. Sirius, who had always looked very good with stubble, had more than a shadow now that needed shaving.
Remus realized that he was giving himself an excuse to keep looking at Sirius. He knew that there were a lot of things that he wanted cleared up, but knew also that it could, and would, wait. The main thing above all else was to keep Sirius as happy as he could reasonably make him. That's all that mattered right now.
Whether he, Remus, was a part of that reasonable happiness was the thought he wouldn't let form.
Sirius stirred, waking slowly as layers of sleep like water rolled off. Finally Sirius opened his eyes to see Remus's eyelids half-mast, lazily gazing over the darker man's form.
Sirius's mouth twitched upward at the distantly familiar gaze. Remus had bedroom eyes whether he knew it or not. Remus smiled in response and tentatively broke the silence.
"You okay?"
Sirius seemed to contemplate for a moment, flicking his eyes to the side before nodding.
Remus sighed and smiled at his napping mate, "It's so good to have you back again, Sirius."
"I missed you, too."
Remus smiled at him again. Sirius loved it more than he thought he would. It had been a long time since he had seen that not-quite-awake-yet introvert's grin.
"Do you want some breakfast?" Remus offered after a moment.
Sirius nodded vigorously, waking himself up more and winning a fourth smile from Remus.
"I'll make breakfast while you get a bath. You smell."
Sirius put on a mock-indignant face, as if too shocked to speak.
"You really do, Sirius."
Sirius made a show of lifting his arm and sniffing his armpit. He recoiled and coughed, "Okay, so I'm just a bit, er, aromatic."
"Bathroom's upstairs to the left. There're towels in there," Remus offered helpfully. He hauled Sirius to his feet and showed him to the stairs.
Remus, in the meantime, boiled what was left of the eggs and made a stack of buttered toast cut into soldiers. To add to it, he made a few pancakes and sliced up two red apples for them. He put it all onto one big plate and was just pouring out two glasses of orange juice when he heard Sirius shout from upstairs.
Remus, wondering what was going on, climbed the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. "Sirius?"
"Oy, Moony…I've shampooed my hair three times and now it's one big mess," was the muffled reply.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"…Cut it off…I think there's a pair of scissors in here…"
"Do you want me to bring breakfast with me?"
"Why the hell not?"
Remus accio!ed the plate and glasses up the stairs and opened the door.
The sight before him almost made him drop his juice glass.
Sirius sat in the bathtub that was overflowing with bubbles from the last two shampoo attempts. The water was gray in the few patches that the foam failed to cover. Sirius's head was suspended in the froth with even more on top of his head than under it. Remus repressed a snort of laughter. Sirius scowled.
"They're over there by the sink," Sirius pointed. Remus, smiling with his eyes, grabbed the scissors and picked his way over the splashed floor to a saving dry spot behind Sirius's sudsy head.
"Do you want it really short, or do you want me to save every bit that I can?"
"Save every possible bit. By the way, you left breakfast by the sink."
Remus handed Sirius his wand and Sirius summoned the platter to rest by the tub's edge. Sirius tore into the pancakes as soon as they were in reach while Remus began snipping out the impossible tangles of Sirius's hair, letting the jet black tangles fall to the floor.
"What I want to know, Moony," Sirius began between mouthfuls, "is why you've got a great pair of bloody shears like that in here in the first place."
Remus shrugged, still locating the worst knots to sacrifice, "I cut my own hair. Also, it's the only thing I have found that will cut my nails."
Sirius quirked an eyebrow and Remus's hair, kept back in a tie, "Your hair doesn't need to be cut if you keep it that long. Why bother at all?"
"Because the ends get dry and I hate that more than most women do."
"But why do you need it for your nails?"
"Werewolves fingernails are extremely hard," Remus replied impersonally.
"Oh…so that's why—" Sirius bit his lip suddenly.
"That's why, what?"
"That's why you could draw blood when…when we were younger…"
Remus paused and frowned behind Sirius's head. He remembered what Sirius spoke of…those nights when he clung too hard to Sirius' back when the moon was near. When they awoke, Sirius always had tiger stripes of cuts on his back from Remus's fingernails. He always had grinned and said something about S&M having a strange appeal.
"Yes," Remus replied quietly, "that's why I drew blood."
There followed some semi-awkward silence during which Remus finished Sirius's hair and Sirius finished all the eggs and toast he could eat.
"Want anything else?" Remus nodded towards the mostly empty plate.
"No," was Sirius's soft spoken reply.
Remus nodded again and made to go when Sirius's voice stopped him.
"I still love you, Remus," he whispered. Remus froze.
Sirius bit his lip and examined the water as he continued, "I know it's been forever, and it's been years since I've had the chance to tell you, and there's so much emotional baggage attached…but just to let you know…I still love you."
When Sirius looked up, Remus was turned towards him with wide dark blue doe eyes. Remus's lips were working, but not a sound escaped.
Sirius looked back down at the swirling bubbles. Anything but the stricken look on Remus's face…
"…I love you, too," Remus murmured, causing Sirius to stare at him. "That's why it hurt so much, all those years. I hated you for breaking my heart when I thought you killed them all," Remus came back towards Sirius as he spoke, as if not quite believing where he was and who he was speaking to but knowing it was all real. "Lily and James are gone, but you're still here, Sirius. You're innocent. You're innocent and I love you. That's all that matters." Remus grasped Sirius's hand and kissed his knuckles.
Sirius flung his arms around Remus and dragged him into the tub with him, causing the werewolf to sputter with surprise and a wave of water to splash onto the floor. Then their lips met somewhere in the froth and suddenly it didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter that there was over a decade of pain and hatred between them. It didn't matter that Sirius was still on the run. It didn't matter that Remus's clothes were soaked through and through. It was a kiss like a first kiss with all the familiarity of married couple. It was bells ringing, but the same bells from before. It was ocean waves from the beach where childhood hours were spent. It was a beautiful thing to be in each others' arms again.
When the kiss ended, they both smiled, both a little dazzled from the extraordinary power of it all.
"Don't leave," Sirius begged after a moment. "It's too wonderful to have you back again."
Remus, floating somewhat in Sirius' lap, kissed Sirius' worried temple, "Why would I leave?" Remus threw his soaked garments over the edge of the tub and settled back into Sirius' embrace again.
"It'll take a while, but…" Sirius whispered into Remus's ear.
"It will take a while," Remus quietly agreed.
"I know that I love you, but there's so much," Sirius paused, searching for the right word, "bullshit attached."
Remus nodded, "We've got a bit to go, but we're headed in the right direction."
"It'll be a while before I can get there again…"
"It's okay. We both are tired and wearied by the pains of this world."
Sirius held Remus closer, "Indeed we are," and kissed his ear.
They sat together in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the company of each other. The early afternoon sun was streaming through the windows, playing off the blues and whites of the tiles and towels around the room, the fluorescent bubbles, and the flecks of silver and pale blonde in Remus's barkish-colored hair. The pair of them, in the golden silence of it all, became familiar with each other again gradually. Remus discovered that Sirius's face was not nearly so dead as it was learning to live again and Sirius discovered new scars on Remus's back.
Remus moved to grab a washcloth and dunked it in the water after reheating it magically, "You still smell," he grinned.
Sirius rolled his eyes, "I always knew you were obsessive-compulsive." Yet, he obediently leaned forward, allowing Remus access to his knobby back.
Remus frowned at all the visible ribs, "Sirius, eat more of those eggs, we need to fatten you up." Sirius grinned and bit into a cooling egg.
After thoroughly scrubbing Sirius so that his skin was pink and soft like a baby's and getting his hair in an approvable state, Remus and Sirius pulled on bathrobes and went down the stairs to the kitchen.
Over coffee, the two reminisced together, sharing bad times and good until the sun slipped below the horizon and more food prepared. Sirius came another step closer to his old self and Remus loved him for it. In exchange, Remus found himself smiling more freely than he had before in eons. There was not silence as the night fell over them again. There was the song of night birds and an orchestra crickets to whisper the enchanting music from times dead and gone. As the stars sang in their distant brilliance adding to the beauty of all the world, a flute and a violin played sweetly together in the twilight without a single note played.