The door to 12 Grimmauld Place swung open with a bang. A flock of golden sparks flitted into the kitchen and danced around the heads of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black, along with Molly and Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody, and Severus Snape raced into the front hall. The only difference being that Sirius was unarmed.

“Stay back!” Snape hissed, shoving Sirius out of the way as he drew his wand.

But there was no need for wands. Standing in the doorway was Albus Dumbledore, looking pleased. “I haven’t been in a taxi since 1947. Quite a remarkable way to travel. Why, the smell alone is worth the experience.”

He didn’t acknowledge the sighs of relief or the wands being lowered as he pushed his way into the kitchen with his two companions. “Time travel paradoxes are best discussed while slightly intoxicated. Have you any Firewhisky?” Dumbledore looked at Sirius, since this was his house after all, but Molly rushed to answer.

“I’ll look.” Molly frantically opened up cabinets, while the rest of them took seats at the table. “There were a few bottles left in the cellar but – “ She glanced at Sirius. It was no secret that he had been drinking more than his share. On more than one occasion Sirius overheard Molly complaining about his drinking problem and the bad example he was setting for the children.

“It’s all right, Molly.” Dumbledore motioned for her to have a seat, but instead she busied herself with making tea. “No wonder you’re all out. It has been a trying few months for all of us, and Firewhisky does revive the spirits,” Dumbledore said in his good-natured way that infuriated Sirius.

What did he know about a trying few months? He hadn’t been the one locked away in this house. He hadn’t been imprisoned at Azkaban. He’d been at Hogwarts, supposedly protecting Harry. Not that he’d done a very good job of it. Sirius bristled with fury, but forced himself to stay silent. Causing a scene would do no good, and there were much better things to occupy his thoughts.

Like the two Remuses that stood side by side in the doorway. Identical in every way, down to the robes.

“I don’t think it wise to discuss anything until Kreacher has been taken care of,” one Remus said. The hate in his voice surprised Sirius, until now, Sirius had been the only one who’d ever held any contempt for the house-elf.

“Kreacher was taken care of before you arrived,” Snape said. “Simply because you believe you came from the future, does not mean you’re all knowing.”

“I never assumed that I was, Severus,” Remus said. “Though, in this case, I have to insist that I know more about that house-elf and what he’s capable of than you do.”

Sirius had no idea what Remus was talking about. Kreacher had always been annoying at the least, a pain in the arse at the worst, but he’d never done anything remotely violent.

“Kreacher has been banished to Nymphadora’s house,” Dumbledore explained. “I had Alastor erect some extra wards to ensure that no amount of miscommunication allows him to leave.”

Seemingly reassured, both Remuses moved to sit down. They reached for the same seat, frowned at each other and mumbled apologies, before sitting at opposite ends of the table. The mirrored expressions were so comical that Sirius laughed.

“Find this amusing, do you?” the other Remus asked, glaring at him across the table.

“Quite.” In fact, Sirius didn’t think he’d felt this good since he’d left Azkaban.

“Enough with the niceties,” Mad-Eye said, impatiently. “Which is the real Remus?” His hand twitched near his wand.

Dumbledore’s smile widened. “They both are.”

Molly and Arthur stared in outright disbelief, while Snape’s expression fell into his usual sneer of open hostility. Mad-Eye didn’t bother looking up at all. He was too busy examining his magical eye. It had been damaged in the fight at the Department of Mysteries. A fight that Sirius had been replaying in his mind for the past few hours.

It had felt good to fight. And it had felt even better to have a wand in his hand. Remus’s old second hand wand wasn’t as well-suited to him as his original wand had been but he’d managed to fire off spells easily enough. Not too shabby, for a guy who had barely touched a wand in 13 years.

If it hadn’t been for Bella, Sirius would’ve considered the confrontation a great success. It was just luck that last spell had hit at all, what with Remus tackling him to the ground at the same time. With all the spells ricocheting around the room, it had been impossible to hear what incantation she’d used, but it had been a nasty one. The effects were obvious enough. He assumed the spell had the same effect on Remus, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask before Dumbledore had spirited him away. Them. Already, he was getting the two Remuses confused.

Sirius concentrated, trying to access the power that lay just beneath the surface. Nothing happened. No warm rush of magic. No slight tingling behind his eyes. Nothing. A temporary loss of power wasn’t unheard of when dueling Death Eaters. During the first war with Voldemort, several Order members had succumbed to the same annoying, but harmless effect. Except for the loss of shifting into Padfoot, Sirius had spent 13 years magic-less. A few more weeks wouldn’t make much difference while he waited for his powers to return. Especially if he had two Remuses to occupy his attention.

No one in the room spoke. Dumbledore frowned. “Well, really, I expected a better reaction than that. This is a rare event, one that hasn’t happened in centuries. Remus has altered the timeline to such an extent that it boggles the mind.” Dumbledore closed his eyes as if he was actually letting his mind boggle. “According to all the examinations, this Remus,” Dumbledore pointed to the Remus at the left end of the table, “is from approximately four months into the future.”

“Using a Time Turner to go back for anything longer than a few hours is illegal,” Snape pointed out needlessly. “If the Ministry got word of this it would mean an automatic sentence in Azkaban.”

Sirius rose to his feet so suddenly the chair toppled over behind him. He reached for a wand that was useless in his hands. “Over your dead body!” he growled, shaking with fury. It wouldn’t happen. He’d kill Snape first.

“Remus isn’t going anywhere,” Molly said, soothingly. She put a gentle hand on his arm and Sirius let her guide him back down into his chair. A cup of tea was set in front of him.

Dumbledore ignored Sirius’s outburst as if it were a part of everyday conversation. He smiled. “The Ministry will never find out. And if they did, it would still be impossible for them to return the timeline to its original configuration. Remus’s one act has already rippled across time in such a way that no one will ever begin to guess the ramifications.”

“What happened?” Molly asked Remus, not sure which one to look at.

Unable to meet anyone's gaze, Remus studied the inside of his cup. “In the original timeline, Sirius died in the Department of Mysteries tonight.”

“So you came back to save him. How romantic,” Snape said, sarcastically.

“No one deserves to fall through the veil while still alive.” Remus said.

The fight, that had moments ago seemed like such an achievement, was now a dismal failure. Sirius hadn't almost beaten Bellatrix, he'd almost been killed by her. Another in a long line of mistakes that people Sirius cared about were having to pay for.

Dumbledore was talking, but Sirius didn't hear him. Remus stared at him from across the table. Sirius felt uncomfortable under his gaze. He’d seen that look before. The only problem was his memories had become so jumbled he couldn’t decide what it meant. It was either the, “I want to shag you senseless” look, or the “I’m a werewolf and I want to eat you for dinner” look. Both prospects were daunting.

As many times as Sirius spent in the shower day dreaming about the shagging, he doubted it was a possibility. In some ways he preferred the wolf. Then he could just shift into Padfoot. Everything was literally and metaphorically black and white as a dog. Being human meant never-ending shades of grey. Sirius had forgotten how tiresome it could be.

Remus had always been one for subtlety, and he seemed even more prone to that now than he was as a young adult. At one time, Sirius could've written a book about the many moods of Remus. What a furrow between his eyebrows meant. What a strategically placed smile insinuated. Now he wasn't sure he had it in him anymore to understand anything about anybody.

Dumbledore finished his speech. Sirius hadn’t bothered to listen. He’d given up understanding Dumbledore back during Hogwarts. Whatever he’d said was bound to have been cryptic and indecipherable. Besides, it was much more entertaining to stare at Remus and Remus across the table. The old Remus was giving the future Remus a worried look. No doubt because the old Remus had a pretty good guess what the future Remus was thinking.

“Certainly, there’s no reason for the old Remus to wait four months to go back in time again, but I want to be certain,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll do some more research on the phenomena tonight and get back to you tomorrow. You both will be safe here until then.” He stood from the table. “What an evening it has been! Molly, I’m sure you and Arthur will want to be checking in on your children. I’ll see that the wards are lowered to allow you entrance into the hospital wing, but most likely your herd will have already headed back to Gryffindor Tower. If they’ve managed to sneak out from under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey.” Dumbledore turned to Mad-Eye. “And speaking of eyes, I think you should go to St. Mungo’s and have your eye looked at.”

Mad-Eye grunted in agreement. “I’ll check on Tonks and Kinsley while I’m there.” And with a crack he Disapparated.

Without a word of goodbye, Snape made his escape and Disapparated immediately after Mad-Eye. By the time Molly and Arthur had changed into appropriate traveling robes, Dumbledore was ready to leave. “Until tomorrow.” And with rhythmic staccato cracks, the three of them vanished.

The silence hovered between them. The kitchen table, a child’s tea part with empty chairs and half-full cups. This shouldn’t be so hard, Sirius thought. They were both still Remus. Who was he kidding, nothing had been the same since he'd returned from Azkaban. Time to time, he saw brief reminders of the man Remus once was, but for the most part, he was a stranger. Sirius barely recognized himself in the mirror anymore. Why should he expect to recognize Remus?

“How’s your magic?” one Remus asked, politely. "Mine's still gone."

Sirius shrugged. “Non-existent. Thought I felt a twinge earlier, but it must have just been gas.” Polite small talk hadn’t come easy since Azkaban.

Remus laughed, both of them. “Yes, I often confuse the feeling of gas with that of performing a particularly difficult spell.”

Sirius’s laughter echoed hollowly through the room and quickly died out. He finally understood Molly's insistent coddling. Taking action, even the most mundane task of preparing tea or lunch, was better than facing the awkwardness between them. He grabbed his own cup and saucer and carried it to the sink. “With Kreacher gone, I guess the cleaning will be up to us."

“Suppose so.”

Sirius touched the faucet, but nothing happened. “Shite. Can’t wash dishes without magic.”

The old Remus walked over and started the flow of soapy water from the faucet, and then joined the future Remus in gathering up the remaining dishes.

Dumbledore was right, Sirius thought to himself, you really did need to be intoxicated to think about time travel paradoxes. Just keeping the two straight in his own mind was a hassle. He ignored the confusion by asking a question, “What have you got against Kreacher? Dumbledore didn’t really give us a lot of the details.”

It didn’t seem the right thing to say. Remus clenched his hand around a cup so hard his knuckles were white. “He betrayed you to the Malfoys.”

“That so?” Sirius said. It didn’t surprise him in the least.

“Yes, that’s so.” Remus mocked him angrily. “That house-elf might as well have been the one to push you through that veil as much damage as he caused.”

Sirius sighed. Another wrong sentence. Automatically, he tried to shift into Padfoot and slink away, but all he managed to do was pull a muscle in his neck. Truth be told, he wanted to be alone. He thought two Remuses would be better than one, but like usual the reality was a disappointment. All he had accomplished was pissing off two Remuses at a time instead of just one. When had his life gotten so fucked up? He wondered if there was one moment he could place the blame on, and after a few minutes consideration settled on his birth. Things had just been down hill from there.

The veil might have been an improvement. At least he wouldn't be a burden. Anything was better than this half-life he'd been living the past few months. Every decision he made a mistake. And tonight, wand in hand, when he finally felt alive, was nothing more than an impulsive reckless move on his part, forcing Remus to alter time itself to put it right. It wasn't like him to be constantly beholden to other people and he hated it. He resented having to say thank you. Over and over and over again. Death was preferable.

He owed Remus a thousand thank yous, but he'd never been able to voice any of them. The words always seemed too cheap. This time however, he felt it had to be said, as insignificant as they were. "Thank you."

“Don’t thank me. It was selfish, really.” Remus reached across him, setting the last of the cups into the sink. “You’re hard to live with, Sirius, but regret is even harder.”

Sirius wasn't sure if that was an insult or not, so he turned back to the dishes and said nothing. He was far too old for this. Once he was done, he could make his escape. Buckbeak was upstairs and he'd always been good company.

Merlin's beard, he was crazy.

He should be out there fighting, searching for Bellatrix, anything other than washing dishes and looking forward to spending time with a Hippogriff. A cup shattered in his hands.

Sirius was vaguely aware of a warm body pressed against his back. Soapy fingers laced through his own. "Let it go."

Then a hand was on the back of his neck, urging him to turn around, pulling him closer and closer until Sirius, whose mouth had opened in numbed shock, brushed against Remus. Sirius gasped, managing unintentionally to breath Remus in, insistent tongue trailing along his own.

Touching Remus was a plunge headfirst into icy water, a shock to the system that no amount of anticipation could prepare him for. Sirius remembered fragments of the past, but it wasn’t until his hands wrapped around Remus’s waist and he pressed his body full against him that all the pieces finally fell into place.

Sirius may have forgotten a lot, but this he remembered how to do. It was like flying a broom. It was the best kiss of his life. Intellectually he realized that his years of sensory deprivation would have made a kiss from Buckbeak impressive, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was Remus's lips, warm and wet against his own.

As strong as they were, the Dementors couldn’t steal everything. Some things went beyond memory. Universal truths. Instinct. Whatever it was, Sirius knew that if he touched Remus right there, he was make a sound like that. Sirius had heard that soft nonsensical moan a thousand times before. Behind Gryffindor curtains, in their flat, in a back alley in London outside a cheap Muggle pub, in midair (that had just been a hand-job and they'd almost crashed the motorbike but, Merlin, it had felt good.)

Sirius wanted to hear that sound again, and again, but Remus had other ideas. Insistent hands snaked across his chest, trying to find a way beneath the robes. All he managed to find were layer upon layer of clothes.

"You do have skin under there somewhere, don't you?" Remus asked, trying to navigate around frustrating handfuls of fabric. "Or have you had it all transfigured into a cotton polyester blend?"

"Silk."

"Should've known. You Blacks have always been a decadent lot."

At one time they had this down to an art. Clothes would vanish without any awkward pauses or tangled laces. That was a long time ago. Now they were all stumbling steps and clashing hands. One of them would have to pull back, but neither was willing to let go.

Remus tugged too hard, and Sirius jerked forward. “Bloody robes,” Remus mumbled.

Sirius smiled his laughter as he reached for the clasp. He had no breath to vocalize his amusement aloud. All the air had gone right out of him when he touched Remus. It was all he could do just to stand there and smile.

Old robes were hastily pushed back until they hung carelessly across his shoulders, giving Remus enough room to slip his hands beneath Sirius's shirt. His fingers traced wild delicate patterns along the too thin frame, as he leaned in to nip lightly at the exposed skin of his neck.

In Azkaban Sirius had dreams like this. Remus's teeth on his neck. The moon would rise and those teeth would get sharper and he'd howl his betrayal before he tried to kill him. But there was no moon tonight. The first light of morning had just stained the clouds outside the window, convincing Sirius that this wasn't a dream a all.

After months of catching up on years of changes, and months more reminding himself things would never be the same between them again, the sudden reality of Remus was almost too much to believe.

"You know what I think," Sirius said, in between ragged breaths. "I think, you came back just so you could shag me."

Remus laughed, his breath warm against Sirius's cheek. “Only you would believe someone would time travel just for a shag.”

“I would.” Sirius ground his hips into the erection pressing against him.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Remus's hands ventured lower until. Even through layers of cloth, the touch was enough to make Sirius arch into those hands. "Bedroom. Now." Remus whispered.

Thinking back on it later, Sirius never could remember getting to the bedroom. One moment he was in the kitchen, the edge of the counter digging into his back. The next moment, he was on his back, sprawled out on the bed while Remus slowly tugged off his trousers.

The cool air felt delicious on his over-heated skin, but the friction of rough trousers against the outside of his thighs as Remus straddled him, did not. Remus was far too dressed for the occasion. Undressing would have to wait until later. All thoughts of debauching Remus left him, when those long fingers grasped his aching cock.

He almost arched off the bed. He almost came right then, only a few well timed deep breaths and mentally berating his body with a chant of, not yet, by Merlin, not YET, kept him in control. He knew it wouldn't last for long. But he wanted more. At the least, he wanted Remus naked when it happened.

With more willpower than he thought he had, he pulled Remus's hands off of him and yanked him down to a rough kiss.

Rolling them over, Sirius pushed him hard against the mattress. "My turn." He swatted Remus's hand away when he reached for him again. Left to stray, those hands would've kept Sirius from doing any explorations of his own.

Remus lay back, chest heaving with exertion, his eyes following Sirius's hands as he unbuttoned the shirt. New scars crisscrossed Remus’s chest down his torso, like lines on map. Sirius traced each one of them with his tongue, slowly making his way down to his navel. Fumbling with the buttons on his trousers for only a few moments before sliding them over those perfect white hips, passed the eager cock just waiting for attention.

Sirius took the thick cock in his mouth, letting his tongue slide across the underside of the shaft, enjoying the way Remus's thigh trembled. One lick had him gasping. Two had him threading his fingers through Sirius's hair. Three had him begging.

"Sirius..."

Sirius stopped long enough to grin up at him.

Remus urged him back up. "Roll over."

Sirius nodded. Arms and legs tangled and rearranged themselves into a familiar position. The cool pillow against his cheek. Remus's presence steady behind him. The slick heat of skin against skin. A deep breath.

One wet finger trailed down the curve of his spine, down lower and lower until Sirius hissed between clenched teeth. The familiar discomfort followed by a jolt of rightness that was sharp in its pleasure. Sirius rocked back against the fingers again and again, until the feeling was no longer foreign but something he couldn't imagine that he'd lived so long without.

Then Remus stopped.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Sirius hissed. "An engraved invitation on my arse?"

"Down, Padfoot." Remus said, giving him a playful slap on the butt. "No wands. Guess we'll have to do this the Muggle way. What else have you got?"

No wand. No magic. No easy way to prepare themselves for the main event.

“Muggles know nothing about good sex," Sirius mumbled, trying hard to remember what he had in his bathroom. There had to be something in there they could use.

“With your magic gone, you’re both practically Muggles yourself,” said a very familiar voice from the corner of the room.

They froze in place and turned towards the voice. While they had been making up for lost time, the old Remus, the one who still had his magical powers, had at some point walked into the room and taken a front row seat.

Sirius had always secretly considered Remus his conscience, the one who never hesitated to point out right from wrong. Only this time that conscience was sitting in a chair in the corner, hands placed strategically across his crotch, bemused grin on his face. To say it was unsettling was an understatement.

“Enjoying the view?” Sirius asked, wiggling his arse suggestively.

“You could say that.” the old Remus admitted, his hand moving deftly over his crotch.

"You know, Sirius," Remus said thoughtfully as he sat naked on the bed. "He could always give us a hand. Or two. He does have a wand."

Sirius opened and closed his mouth, for once at a complete loss for words.

"If you make any tasteless wand entendres I'm leaving." The other Remus stood from the chair and unzipped his trousers, letting them pool to the floor around his feet. "I think there's enough of you for both of us."

They looked at Sirius like he was beautiful, reflecting his youth back at him through their eyes.

"Forget what I said earlier," Sirius said. "You didn't come back to shag me. You came back to shag us."

Remus scooted over on the bed and grinned. "I admit, the thought did cross my mind while Dumbledore was rambling on this evening. I wasn't sure he'd go for it though." He motioned his head at Remus who was crossing the room, wand raised.

With a wave of his wand, Remus removed the rest of his clothes.

The future Remus rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a performance."

“I’d beg to differ with you, Moony.” Sirius crawled on hands and knees to the edge of the bed. Remus murmured a few quiet words of a spell and Sirius shuddered as the effects took hold. It was always cold. No amount of charm work had ever fixed that one problem.

Behind him, Remus coaxed him over to his hands and knees where the other Remus was waiting, stretched out beneath him, sliding his body down lower and lower until his mouth was even with Sirius's cock.

The world shrunk down and slowed and reversed. Remus, both of them, were the Dementors opposite, filling him up with life, forcing him to make new memories, the best kind, instead of ripping them from him.

He'd been foolish to think the fight at the Department of Mysteries felt good. It was nothing compared to the hands fiercely gripping his hips, the slow thrust behind him, the warm heat of the mouth beneath him.

Sirius struggled to stay on his hands and knees. His arms and legs trembled with the effort. A pair of hands covered his own, and held them tightly. That was all it took, and Sirius wondered if he had fallen a veil because nothing of this world could possibly feel so good.

When world had righted itself once again, Sirius rolled over. "You may have to use that Time Turner again," he said, heart still racing. "Because it's quite possible that you just killed me."

The Remuses laughed, two breaths puffing across his skin.

* * * * *

Dumbledore paced in front of the kitchen fire as he talked. Sirius had no idea what he was saying. He'd quit listening when he started quoting chapters from the Hogwarts a History about a case of a Time Turner involving a first year student meeting himself as an old man. Sirius stretched uncomfortably where he stood. Having two naked Remuses draped across him had been lovely, but it was murder on his back. Remus smiled at him from across the room.

He supposed that Remus would be stuck here with him at Grimmauld Place until their powers returned, or more accurately if their powers returned. Snape had so kindly left them a note that morning stating the very real possibility that they'd be squibs for the rest of their lives. Sirius tried not to think about it. Although, if the shagging was as good as it was last night, being a squib might not be so tragic after all.

By Dumbledore's widening grin, Sirius guessed that he was ending his lecture.

"And so, you shouldn't have any trouble at all going back and fulfilling your quest to change time," Dumbledore said, handing the Time Turner over to Remus. "You can leave at any time."

Dumbledore shook Remus's hand and winked at him, before stepping back to let Sirius say his goodbyes.

Sirius stepped forward, trying to figure out how to say goodbye to someone who wasn't really leaving. “You’re sexier than that other one,” Sirius whispered against brown hair. “But don’t tell him I told you that.”

Remus waited for Sirius to step away, and turned the Time Turner over. He shimmered like a mirage, then vanished.

Sirius watched the empty space for a moment. Most people rarely got a second chance. He was lucky enough to get a third. This time he wouldn’t waste it. Although he hated the idea of being locked up in Grimmauld Place another second, he hated the idea of leaving the world altogether even more. Harry needed him. Remus needed him. If he had to stay here, he would. He would make it his job to annoy Snape, and shag Remus, and hound Dumbledore until he got him a wand. He didn’t need a wand. Not at the moment anyway.

But that would change with time. Everything did. It was the one thing Sirius had learned. He turned around and faced the future.

Remus was smiling. His hair had more grey, and he was noticeably thinner. The circles under his eyes more pronounced. Whatever happened during those four months, Sirius knew would remain a mystery. And he would never ask. They both had their secrets. There were things in Azkaban that Sirius would take with him to his grave.

Grave.

A much more comforting word now than veil. But that was still a long way off.