At the Healing Edge of Broken

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/37146067.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con
Category: F/M, M/M, F/F
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius
Black/Gideon Prewett, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Peter
Pettigrew/Emmeline Vance
Character: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Peter
Pettigrew, Frank Longbottom, Alice Longbottom, Harry Potter, Neville
Longbottom, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Benjy Fenwick, Gideon Prewett
(Harry Potter), Fabian Prewett, Minerva McGonagall, Alastor "Mad-Eye"
Moody, Marlene McKinnon, Madam Rosmerta (Harry Potter), Weasley
family (mentioned), Emmeline Vance, Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus
Black
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical,
POV Sirius Black, Footballer Sirius Black, Physiotherapist Remus
Lupin, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, i don't know football, I don't know
sport, I don't know physiotherapy, Please Forgive me, Music, Lots of
Music, because I fill my life with it, and I think Sirius and Remus would
as well, Disgrunted James Potter, bit judgy, not gonna lie, but he means
well, Injury, Past Relationship(s), Lots of Cursing, like really, loads,
Sirius Black has no filter, Remus has very little filter, Sirius Black:
Flirting Extraordinaire, not really - Freeform, Bad Flirting, but Sirius
thinks it's good, Sirius Black does not have feelings, but yes he does,
He's in denial, Remus Lupin is unconventional, it's a thing, but in the
best way, Mentions of past abuse from Black family, Gideon Prewett is
a little shit, Stranger to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Rape/Non-con -
Freeform, mentions of depression
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of At the the Healing Edge of Broken
Collections: best wolfstar, Marauders fics to heal my heart, marauders&hp
Stats: Published: 2022-02-15 Completed: 2022-05-31 Words: 191,322
Chapters: 18/18

At the Healing Edge of Broken

by heartofspells

Summary

Sirius is a pro football star who finds himself injured. Through a recommendation from
Lily, Remus becomes his physiotherapist.

Or: Sirius is flying high on success until it all crashes down around him, but he realizes that
maybe crashing doesn't always mean the end to everything. Someone's there to throw him a
life preserver. He only needs to open his eyes to find it.
Notes

Let me start off by saying I am sorry. I started this on a whim that began from half-awake
evil brain plotting and just spiraled from there. I do not know almost anything about sport
(football, specifically) or physiotherapy, other than what I have experienced myself. I did a
lot of research, but if you find any inaccuracies in anything, please don't hesitate to let me
know and I'll happily fix the problem areas.

Secondly, there's a lot of music mentioned within. I have random tastes, so I've thrown that
off on the boys because I can and I love it. Some songs and artists are mentioned by name
while others are not. However, at the end of the story, I'll make and link a playlist with
everything I use located within, if anyone has interest.

Thirdly, one of the most mentioned bands within this story is Longwave. I discovered them
while doing research for this very thing, and they are amazing. Their albums have basically
become a soundtrack for the whole thing so far, so please check them out if you're willing.

Lastly, I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I have so far. It's been a fun write, so I'm
hopeful that it's just as fun to read. Hoping to post once a week as of now, so keep an eye
out for future updates.

Please pay attention to the tags and the archive warnings. This story does contain
heavy themes of rape, depression, and injuries. If you are triggered by any of these
things, please do not continue reading, or at least tread with caution. I have tried to
warn at the beginning of the worst chapters.

See the end of the work for more notes

 Biscuits, Family, & Chance Encounters

I'll be the lamp light

I'll be the first in line
Kick out the waste of
Losers and fakers
I'll be the one to
See through the blackest hours
Nights in the darkness
All the nights in the darkness

When you are shaded

When you are fading out
I'll be the lamp light
Nights in the darkness

Sirius pulls his ringing mobile from his pocket as he kills his bike and kicks out the stand so he no
longer has to support it. A grin flashes on his face when he sees the name lighting up the screen.

"Ah, the Berk with the Perks," says Sirius as he answers.

"What?" questions James, his voice sounding slightly tinny and confused. "What are you talking
about?"

Sirius shrugs, though he knows James can't see it. "It's what my phone calls you," he replies.

"Berk with the Perks? Sirius, mate," mutters James in exasperation, "you control the names in your
phone. You're telling me that's the best you could come up with?"

"Oi, I change it every month. I was tired when I came up with it," defends Sirius. "I'll do better
next time."

"What's wrong with just calling me Prongs? Or James is always an acceptable option. Wouldn't
that be astounding?"

"It would be, actually," agrees Sirius. He hears an irritated huff of air through the speakers. "Tell
me again, what am I called in your phone, Prongsie?" James mumbles something Sirius can't
understand. "Sorry, what was that? Couldn't quite hear you, mate."

"Paddlebrains," grumbles James.

"I rest my case," comments Sirius triumphantly. "What do you want?"

"Wow. Way to make a bloke feel loved," comes James' mockingly miffed and amused voice.
"You're coming back here, right? Can you pick up some chocolate biscuits? Gonna try to bribe
Harry into the bath tonight."

Sirius snorts. "Does Evans know about this?"

"No, she does not, and we're not to tell her. We're also going to bribe Harry to stay silent, so make it
two packs," warns James. "And we've been married for over five years, Pads. Think you could stop
calling her that now?"

"Nah," denies Sirius. "Think she likes it. Reminds her of the good days before you managed to sink
your talons in. Can't say I blame her. I often reminisce of my life before the moron who thought it
would be a good idea to test a fork against an electrical socket."

James sighs, long and sorrowful. "Will we never move past that?" he says mournfully. "I was
pissed, couldn't even see straight. I'd no idea what I was doing. Why didn't you stop me?"

"I was also sloshed," replies Sirius as he swings his leg over the bike and stands. "And you can
never see straight, mate. Don't pass that off on me."

"Like you're one to talk about anything straight," counters James. "You haven't seen anything
straight since you were fifteen and Connor Mays stuck his hand down your trousers."

Sirius grins. "I think you're just jealous that I've never dipped into your pants, Potter."

"You have, actually, or did you forget? I wasn't impressed. Don't know what all the fuss is about.
You've got the looks, mate, but you fumble. S'why you're not the team's goalie."

"Oh ho!" cries Sirius, drawing a few looks from passersby on the pavement around him. He pays
them no mind. "Potter's got jokes. Alert the commentator at once."

"I would be excellent, don't lie to yourself about that," says James airily, sniffing delicately through
the speakers. "I'd have the crowd tumbling from their seats with laughter, make no mistake."

James falls silent for a second, and Sirius hears his muffled voice saying something to Harry in the
distance. Sirius hears the words Padfoot, chocolate, Mummy, and don't tell, followed by a generous
amount of joyful shouting from the four-year-old. When James returns to the conversation, Sirius is
chuckling.

"Nice to see he approves of the idea," he comments.

"Yeah," agrees James. "He's been fighting the bath a lot lately. You are coming, right? With the
biscuits? Don't make me tell him I lied to him. He wants to see you, Sirius. He's been asking after
you all day."

"Calm down, Prongs," says Sirius as he enters the corner shop, enjoying the warmth that spreads
through him at James' words. "I'm getting your bloody biscuits now. Had to stop and get some gel
for my ankle as it was, so brilliant timing on your part. Really ace, mate."

James falls back into silence for a long moment as Sirius locates the sweets and grabs three packs,
just because he can, before heading in search of his gel. "So, practice was good, then?" he finally
asks. It's a loaded question. Sirius can feel its true meaning hanging in the space around him,
pausing him between the lotions and shampoos for a few seconds.

He sighs heavily. "It was fine, James," he answers. "No issues. I think we're past it."

"So Gid didn't start anything this time?" Sirius is quiet, pretending to be focused on reading the
labels in front of him. James grunts over the phone. "Sirius, I know he kicked your ankle on
purpose. Say what you want, but I was watching. It was intentional."

Sirius grabs a random package and straightens, his mouth pulling into a tight line. "Look, James, I
don't care. I'm the one who started the thing. I knew better. He's my teammate. Those things never
end well, and it was my decision to end it. Now I just have to deal with the consequences. It's fine."
"Your teammate kicking your ankle on purpose because he's pissed off is not fine, Padfoot," James
nearly snaps. "It's dangerous. He could end you pulling something like that again. He's volatile and
you knew that going into it. Still don't know why you thought shagging him was a good idea. I
can't believe you didn't report him to McGonagall."

"Minnie would have suspended me if she found out the reason it happened," defends Sirius. "She's
strict on those things, you know that. Doesn't matter how good or valuable you are. Threaten the
team's strength and you're out. End of story. I'm not letting that happen. Gideon was a moment of
weakness. He'll get over it. He didn't say a word to me today. It's fine, James."

James begins to protest, but Sirius silences him. "Hang on a tic," he says, hiding the gratefulness in
his voice as he walks up to the bored looking girl at the counter. He tosses his items down and
watches her as she lazily scans them through and deposits them into the bag.

"Thirteen quid," she says in a sluggish drawl. The girl glances up as Sirius pays her, her eyes
narrowing slightly, showing the first signs of interest since their encounter began. "You look
familiar," she comments slowly, thoughtfully. "Do I know you?"

Sirius smiles politely and grabs his bag. "Don't think so. I get that a lot. Have a good day, thanks!"
he calls and flees before she can pinpoint his face. He shoves the phone back to his ear to hear
James laughing over the speakers.

"How quick did you run?" he chuckles out. "Faster than you ever do on the field, I'm betting."

"Not funny, Prongs," mumbles Sirius. "That was close."

"Thought you loved the attention?" jests James, still cackling.

"Not when I'm just trying to grab some fucking biscuits for my godson and his idiotic father,"
grumbles Sirius. "There's a time and a place, and this is definitely not – shit!"

Sirius' shoulder slams into someone as he's passing through the door. His bag drops to the ground,
splitting open, the sweets and gel scattering at his feet. James is shouting over the phone,
demanding to be included in what's happened, but Sirius is ignoring him.

"Shit, sorry," he says as he looks up at the man he'd just almost knocked to his arse. "Wasn't
watching where I was going."

The man smiles and waves him off, his brown eyes glinting oddly in the artificial light spilling
through the open doors. "It's fine, neither was I," he says dismissively as he crouches to gather
Sirius' packages. "Sorry about that."

He stands again, handing the items to Sirius. "Need a new bag for those?" he asks politely. "I can
grab you one."

"Nah," says Sirius, shifting the contents in his arms to a more comfortable hold. "I've got a pack on
my bike. It's fine."

The man nods, glancing at the biscuits. "That's quite a dinner you've wrangled up for yourself," he
comments humorously.

"What can I say?" supplies Sirius flippantly, shrugging one shoulder as he grins. "We've all got to
feed our inner child at some point."

The man hums, his eyes drifting up to Sirius' face slowly, like he's taking him in, evaluating him.
"Enjoy it, then," he says quietly, his voice shifting just a little, the corners of his mouth quirking up
again faintly. "And sorry again."

Then he's gone, leaving Sirius standing in the doorway, cradling the biscuits in his arms, James still
squawking from his mobile. Sirius watches him walk away, mild heat spreading over his chest and
up his neck as the man shoves his hands into his pockets casually, his shoulders relaxing as he
moves further into the shop.

"Sirius!" James nearly screams, the line crackling in protest. Sirius grunts and shuffles the things in
his arms again so he can push the phone back to his ear. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"Nothing, James," replies Sirius with a sigh as he slowly ventures back to his bike down the
pavement. "Just ran into a bloke. Felt bad, but he was nice."

"Nice, huh?" say James slyly. "How nice? Like nice in the right light, or nice in the take him back
to yours and have your devious, wicked way with him?"

"For fuck's sake, Prongs," mutters Sirius as he shoves the packages into his pack on his bike. "He
was just a random bloke. Do you ever have a thought that doesn't involve sex?"

"Do you?" counters James, cackling madly. Sirius groans into the phone as he mounts the bike
again, disconnecting the call and firing the engine before he shoots off down the street.

--------------------

"Hello, my darlings," greets Lily as she enters the sitting room later that evening, glancing around
the room at them. "Aren't you lot a bunch of lazy bums."

It's a fair assumption, Sirius thinks. James is sprawled out on the sofa, watching the telly with half
open eyes. Sirius and Harry are stretched out in the floor, Sirius on his back while Harry trots a
stuffed black dog and stag over his stomach and chest like rough terrain.

They're admittedly exhausted, James and Sirius. They'd finally coerced Harry into the bath, but
even with the biscuits, the boy had raced through the house with the two men on his heels for
nearly half an hour before they'd managed to plot a plan and catch him, wrestling him into the tub.
Harry had laughed the entire time, thinking the activity great fun. Sirius would take running on a
field any day over wrangling an overenergetic toddler. He was ready to die.

"Lily," whispers Sirius faintly from his prone position on the floor. "Send help. Need sustenance.
Your sprog from hell has killed me." Harry giggles beside him, thumping down the dog on Sirius'
stomach. Sirius releases a sharp breath and wraps his arms around the squirming boy, pulling him
up over his chest. "Think that's funny, do you, Prongslet? How about I tickle you and show just
how funny I can be?"

His fingers dig into Harry's ribs, the boy squealing delightedly, increasing his struggles against
Sirius' firm hold. Sirius grins at the sound. He's never loved anything as much as he does the boy in
his arms.

"No!" cries Harry through his laughter. "No, Padfoot!"

Sirius laughs along with him, releasing his hold. Harry sits up on Sirius' stomach, tears of mirth
glinting in his green eyes. Sirius pushes his knees up so that the boy can lean back against them.
Harry bends over, grabbing the dog from where he'd dropped it on the floor in the scuffle, turning
back and offering it out to Sirius.
"Here," he says simply. "For you. He's sorry."

Sirius smiles, taking the stuffed dog from the boy's hand. "What do we call him, do you think?" he
asks curiously.

Harry tilts his head to the side, thinking very hard on the subject. Sirius sees Lily settle in front of
James' stretched form on the sofa, his hand coming up to brush through her red hair.

"Snuffles," announces Harry finally, his voice certain.

"Snuffles?" exclaims Sirius in mock outrage. "What sort of name is that for such a nice-looking
dog? Shouldn't we name it something else, like Fluffy?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "Like that's any better," she mutters.

"You have no say in this," says Sirius, shifting his eyes to her. "You have a cat. Negative one point
for you. And you named it Bathsheba. Negative six points."

"It was better than Elvendork like someone suggested," she counters, her gaze drifting to James
accusingly. "And you leave my cat alone, Black. She doesn't bother you. She learned her lesson
after you nearly burned her tail off."

James throws his hands up defensively. "It was unisex!" he cries. "We had no idea if it was girl or
boy at that point."

"That was an accident!" protests Sirius at the same time.

Lily eyes him knowingly and Sirius deflates under her gaze. He turns back to Harry.

"What d'you say, Harry?" he asks. "New name?"

"Nope. Snuffles," declares Harry resolutely. Sirius groans.

James snorts in amusement. "Well, they're all better than what you named that manky mutt you
found when we were in school," he mutters. "Who names anything Brownie Biscuit?"

"That was a brilliant name. S'not my fault you couldn't see it," objects Sirius. "He had brown fur
and he stole my biscuits from my pocket the first time I met him in the village. Perfect name. Prove
me wrong. And don't call him that, mate. He wasn't manky and he wasn't a mutt. He was nice to
me."

"Why did you always have to have food in your pockets in the first place?" demands James. "He
wouldn't have attacked you if you'd never put them there."

"He didn't attack me. He gently nudged until I allowed him access."

"You're lucky you didn't lose a hand. Or something more important. Pockets are very close to other
things, Pads, in case you've forgotten."

"I never forget," says Sirius slyly, winking at his friends. "I'm not married. I've got no reason."

"Oi!" shouts James, sitting up slightly, but Lily interjects before they can argue further.

"When's your match with Ireland?" she asks a little sadly, and the mood in the room instantly
dampens, a heaviness falling over them. Sirius' expression darkens as he looks at her and sighs.
"Two days," he mumbles dejectedly. "Have to leave tomorrow."

It's not that Sirius doesn't enjoy what he does. He loves it. He loves every second of it. Every time
he steps onto the pitch, whether for an actual match or just practice, a thrill rushes through him.
The screaming of the crowds melds with his heartbeat and becomes a part of him, fueling him on
as he plays with all he has. It's a good life that he's been granted; he's been lucky since separating
himself from his horrendous family.

Sirius glances at the Potters, his best friends, his true family. They're everything to him now, them
and their son, and while he will always love the career path he's chosen for himself, he doesn't get
much time with them anymore. He misses them while he's away, which is more often than not,
travelling to different countries, his name flashing large and bold across tall screens. Sometimes it's
all a bit too much, and he longs for these peaceful moments in the one place he's come to finally
call home.

"No, Pad!" cries Harry suddenly. He's been sitting back against Sirius' legs, watching them
curiously, but now he lunges forward, startling Sirius slightly as he wraps his little arms around his
neck and grips tightly. "Don't leave again!"

Sirius' own arms loop around the small boy, holding him firmly. His heart aches sorrowfully in his
chest as he rubs soothing circles along Harry's back.

"I'm sorry, sprog," he says softly. "I'll be back before you know it. And I'll call you every day, all
right?"

Harry sniffles into Sirius' neck pitifully and Sirius looks over at James and Lily. They're staring at
the pair on the floor with heartbreaking expressions. Sirius' arms tighten around the boy, savoring
the feeling of his tiny body against his, knowing that he's growing far too quickly. Knowing that
one day he'll return and Harry will no longer be small enough to hold like this. Sirius blinks tears
from his eyes and turns his head away, hiding his face from his friends.

Lily stands as Harry begins to calm. "We'll be watching on the telly. You can be certain of that,"
she says, attempting to keep her tone light.

Sirius swallows around the thick lump in his throat as Harry pulls back from his grasp and gathers
up the stuffed dog in his tiny hands. "I'll make you proud," murmurs Sirius, looking up at Lily.

She smiles as she walks over to them, bending down and stroking a soft finger down the side of his
face. "You always make us proud, Sirius," she says easily, her eyes shining fondly. Sirius smiles as
he looks back at Harry, watching him play with the dog, the longing already beginning to gather
inside him.

--------------------

Sirius stands in the changing rooms, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, watching out the
high window situated near the ceiling. It's a miserable day, the rain coming down in sheets. This is
nothing new, of course. It's Ireland. It rains a great deal, just as it does in England. They've played
in the rain before, but this is different. The ground is wet and too soggy from the downpour. The
pitch will most definitely be unsafe. Sirius has a bad feeling, and his already dour mood grows
steadily darker.

"Up here, gentlemen! Eyes on me!" calls Minerva McGonagall, their team manager, as she claps to
gain their attention.
Sirius turns to look at her, and he can instantly tell by the expression on her stern face that she
doesn't have good news. He's already groaning.

"They refuse to call off the match," she tells them, her mouth pulled into a thin, disapproving line.
"They're saying if we back out, we forfeit. No exceptions."

"This is a load a shite," snaps Sirius. "We can't play in that!" He motions angrily to the window
behind his head. "Someone's going to get hurt. Or, if we're lucky, we'll just not be able to see
anything or find the bloody ball. What good does either of those options do for us?"

McGonagall turns her sharp eyes on Sirius. "I understand the circumstances we find ourselves in,
Black," she says in warning, "but we have no choice unless every one of you decides to forfeit. I
highly recommend against it, though believe me when I say that I'm worried about your safety and
chances as much as you are."

Sirius scowls, crossing his arms over his chest again. The team will never agree to throw off the
match. Most of them think they're invincible, still too young and new to understand the very real
hazards of playing in such conditions as they find themselves in today. Sirius isn't so naïve
anymore. He's been at this for too long, just on the line of being considered nearly too old, which is
ridiculous when you think about it. Since when has twenty-five ever been considered old other
than when it comes to sport?

He huffs in frustration as he hears his teammates agree to play. Sirius' eyes glance around the room
until they land on someone sitting on a bench along the opposite wall. His face is pale and a little
flushed, which Sirius knows to mean after all these years that he's stressed and worried. His hands
wring around the gloves laying upon his legs.

Sirius walks over to the other man, sitting down beside him and bumping his shoulder with his
own. "All right, Frank?" he asks, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

Frank looks over at him, his hands stilling and settling in his lap. "All right, Pads," he replies.
"Worried about the weather, you know. Always makes it difficult catching the bloody ball or even
trying to lunge across the goal to intercept."

Sirius studies him for a moment before deciding to shift Frank's focus a bit. "Alice and Neville in
the stands?" he says lightly.

Frank grins. "Alice, yeah," he replies, his face brightening. "Neville's with my mum. Alice didn't
want to travel with him this time, which I suppose is good considering the rain. She'd be fretting
over him catching cold."

Sirius hums. "Yeah, probably right."

Sirius admires Frank, he really does. The life they live isn't easy, especially on relationships. Frank
is one of the few people Sirius has met in the game that has made it work. Alice follows him
around the world when she can, bringing their small son along whenever possible.

Sirius sometimes feels a little spike of jealousy before batting it back down. He can't imagine how
it must feel to always know you have someone there with you, cheering you on, ready to meet you
after the victory or loss. James and Lily came to his matches whenever they could, of course, but
that had tapered off after Harry was born, which Sirius understood. Now they were limited to home
matches, sometimes even having to miss those. They always tried to watch on the telly, something
Sirius was grateful for, but it was never quite the same.
Moody, their coach, who had previously been arguing not so quietly with McGonagall, calls them
all forward, telling them to prepare themselves. Sirius straightens his kit, knocking at the spikes of
his shoes. He narrows his eyes. He's ready.

--------------------

The team steps out onto the pitch, greeted by rain, mild wind, and the thunderous cry of the
cheering fans in the stands. Sirius squares his shoulders as the team's individual members are
announced, flashing his patented grin through the rain hitting his face when his name is spoken by
one of the commentators over the speakers.

"Striker, Sirius "Padfoot" Black!" The crowd erupts, a wave of color flashing around before Sirius'
eyes. The thrill hits him again, racing down his spine and through to his fingertips and toes. He
feels charged, electrified. He's never felt anything like it before. Nothing has ever compared.

The match starts quickly after the teams and players are introduced. Sirius is running at full speed
through the slick, mud-coated pitch, intercepting when possible and blocking the other team's
passes. The crowd is roaring at a deafening level, but Sirius has tuned them out, like he always
does, everything but the ball and the other players fading to black. Blood is pounding loudly in his
ears. He hears nothing but it, his focus set.

He manages to hook his foot around the ball and he's driving it back down the pitch toward the
other team's goal. He can see the goalkeeper preparing himself for the strike, but Sirius knows
what he's doing. He positions the ball in the wet grass, swinging his foot back for a powerful, well-
aimed kick. Just as he's thrusting it forward again, his planted foot slips sideways in the mud. He
begins to tumble down backwards, but then there's a force knocking into his side, sending him
diagonal instead. Sirius hears a sickening popping sound as he barrels towards the ground, pain
flaring white spots in front of his eyes.

He connects to the grass beneath him, another body falling half on top of him, putting pressure on
his leg, nearly causing him to black out. Sirius' stomach twists violently and he only barely
manages to keep himself from being ill right there in the nearly flooding grass. A hush falls over
the crowd. Sirius can hear faint shouting, but it's fading quickly, the white spots being overtaken
by black nothingness. The last thing he hears before he falls unconscious is Frank's frantic voice
calling his name.
 Disappointment, Old Friends, & Second Meetings
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sirius returns to consciousness slowly, the blackness fading around the edges of his mind like
thick, slow-moving honey. Everything around him is silent, the crowd is gone. He's laying on a
softer surface than the ground, and he's mostly dry, his hair only feeling a little cool and damp
where it's sticking to his face and neck. He instantly knows that means he's been out for a long
time; too long.

He cracks his eyes open, just a sliver, testing them and his surroundings. Bright lights shine down
upon him, and he instantly snaps them closed again. At least he knows he's not blind. Sirius tries to
move certain parts of his body, testing those, too, but everything aches. He feels as though he's
been run over by a train. Perhaps he was. He groans faintly as something spasms midway down his
leg.

"Sirius?"

A shadow falls over him, and Sirius attempts to open his eyes again. Frank is staring down at him
in concern, his pinched face blocking out most of the light. Sirius blinks a few times, adjusting and
trying to piece together what's happening.

"All right, mate?" questions Frank, his blue eyes dancing over Sirius' features as though he's
searching for deficits. Sirius balks at the thought.

"Should I be?" he mutters. "Feels like I've been trampled." The corners of Frank's mouth twitch up
faintly, attempting a small smile, but the expression is strained. Sirius' stomach twists in dread.
"What happened?"

Frank glances around the room, looking as though he's deciding how to say something. He chews
at the inside of his cheek before saying, "The pitch was in no condition to be played on, Sirius. We
all knew that going in."

Sirius swallows around the rising panic in his throat. He remembers now his foot slipping in the
too wet grass. Remembers a weight crashing into him, disrupting his fall. Remembers the sickening
sound of something popping, the way nothing should ever pop on a human body.

"Help me sit up," demands Sirius suddenly, already straining against his aching muscles and joints
to do just that. "Let me see."

"Whoa, calm down, mate," insists Frank, looking frazzled, though his face is still pinched in worry.
He pushes a hand down on Sirius' shoulder, trying to hold him still. "You're going to hurt yourself
worse, you clot. Stop struggling."

Sirius isn't listening, pushing against Frank's firm grip. "Let me the fuck up, Longbottom!" he
shouts, knocking Frank's arm with his elbow, which apparently is one entire bruise, pain stinging
through his arm and up into his shoulder. He grimaces but doesn't stop fighting.

"All right. All right. Shit, Sirius," says Frank irately and Sirius calms a bit as the other man slips
his hand behind Sirius' back, leveraging him up into a sitting position.

Sirius bites back a moan of pain as he moves, his muscles protesting. Then his eyes settle on his
left leg, bound in tight bandages around his knee, stretching halfway up his thigh. It's strapped
down to the trolley Sirius finally realizes he's been resting on, keeping it in place, immobile. His
eyes widen, horror pooling in his abdomen, running his blood cold.

"Fuck," he hisses. His hand lifts, hovering over his leg, but he doesn't dare touch it.

"They don't think it's broken," Frank hurries to explain. "Hopefully just a badly torn ligament."

"Hopefully?" spits Sirius, turning his outraged eyes on his friend. "What the fuck, Frank? Do you
know what this does to people like us?"

Frank's face suddenly falls, and Sirius can see that he'd been thinking the same thing, simply trying
to hide his fear from Sirius, for Sirius.

"Who hit me?" asks Sirius finally, his fingers dropping to gently press into the bandaged skin
around his damaged knee. Fuck, it's tender.

"Irish striker," replies Frank. "Hayes. Came into intercept before you could kick and slipped in the
mud just like you did. Slid right into you, mate. Couldn't stop himself."

"And the match?"

"Called off," picks up Frank. "Fans weren't happy. Heard a lot of muttering about how we should
have never played in the first place. Too dangerous." Frank raises his eyebrows at him and Sirius
snorts derisively. "Minnie is having a fit. Should have seen her after you went down. Didn't think
that old bird still had it in her. She was on you before most everyone else, and then she was on the
reps of the Association, going for their blood. She's furious."

"Christ," mutters Sirius, falling back against the trolley again. "I fucking love that woman
sometimes." Sirius stares at the ceiling, squinting against the flickering lights. "What now?"

Frank settles back into a chair sitting beside Sirius' bed. "They're sending you home, Pads," he says
slowly, cautious and careful, waiting for Sirius' reaction. Sirius finds he doesn't much care, too
focused on the pain ripping through his leg and what that may mean for his future. "Lily wants to
see to you herself, and then get one of the doctors she works with to check you over."

Frank pauses, a slow smile spreading over his face. "She's a bit scary, isn't she?" he remarks, his
tone admiring. "They must have been watching on the telly, because as soon as they had you
loaded on the board and off the field, she was calling everyone. She somehow even rang into the
commentator's booth. Not sure how she managed that."

Sirius chuckles to himself. "She's magical, didn't I tell you? Lily has her ways to getting things
done when she's determined enough. Christ, she must be going mental."

"Seemed pretty calm when she rang me, honestly. Just domineering and not taking anyone's shite
until she got some answers," comments Frank in amusement. "James is the problem child. He's
probably bald at this point, which is saying something. I've seen his head. That's a lot of hair to pull
through."

"Yeah, Prongs isn't good under stress," replies Sirius, a faint grin turning up his mouth. "Should
have seen him when Lily was in labor with Harry. I think there's still a permanent knot on his head
from where he ran into a wall. Pity about the hair if it's gone now. It hides it." Sirius sighs, his
amusement fading away. "When are they shipping me out?"

Frank's eyes crease at their corners as he studies Sirius. "Soon. McGonagall's arranging a flight for
you now. That'll get you back to London and then someone will be waiting to transport you
straight to St Mungo's under Lily's orders. She'll meet you there."

"Good old Minnie," mumbles Sirius. He closes his eyes, his head beginning to throb dully at his
temples.

"She hates that you call her that, you know?"

"I know," says Sirius, smiling again. "That's why I do it. She loves me, though, regardless of the
hell she gives me. No one can tell me differently."

Frank snorts. "Which is why she watches you like a bloody hawk at all times, I suppose," he
mutters caustically.

Sirius cracks his eyes back open, looking at the other man with a dramatic, wounded gaze. "And
what have I ever done to deserve this treatment?"

"Gid," deadpans Frank, raising his eyebrows.

Sirius groans mildly. "Fuck off with that," he says dismissively. "She doesn't even know about it."

"Yeah, but there's a plethora of other things she does know. She knows you. You cause problems
for her, mate. It's a wonder her heart is still functioning from all you've put her through."

"I'm not that bad!" objects Sirius. Frank's eyebrows raise higher and Sirius can't contain a laugh.
"Piss off, mate. I'm living my best life."

Frank doesn't join in with his amusement, his expression turning a bit more serious. "Sure,
Padfoot," he says quietly, nodding slowly. "Keep thinking that."

Sirius throws his head back again, staring at the ceiling, suddenly morose. He wonders, in a small
corner of his mind, just how he's ever meant to respond to something like that. He forces his eyes
closed, still feeling Frank's intense gaze fixed on him. Sirius lays, wide awake, body aching worse
than it ever has, willing sleep to vanish his thoughts away.

--------------------

"Sirius Black, I could wring your bloody neck for scaring me like that," admonishes Lily as she
wheels him through the corridors of the bright hospital. Wheels. They'd stuck him in a bleeding
wheelchair when his flight had landed. Sirius is mortified, and not currently in the best mood.

"Like I did it on purpose?" he says in outrage. "Why would I try to break my own leg, Lily?"

"Oh, do hush," she chastises him as they round a corner and she turns him, pushing a door open
with her back. "Your leg is not broken. I saw that on your scans."

"Feels broken," mumbles Sirius sourly. "Know why, Evans? Because you've got me strapped to
this fucking chair!"

Lily rolls her eyes, locking the brakes on the chair and wedging her arm under Sirius' shoulder.
"Come on, up you go," she encourages, helping to lift him up as he supports himself on his healthy
leg and hops to the examination table in the room, Lily's guiding hands keeping him steady.

He settles down and sighs dejectedly, staring forlornly at his still overly bandaged knee. Lily
reaches out, brushing gentle fingers over his cheek before clutching his chin firmly and meeting his
eyes.

"Everything's going to be fine, Sirius," she says resolutely. "We'll get you patched up, I promise.
You'll be back out there with the rest of the hooligans before you know it."

Sirius' eyes shift around the room. "Think so?" he asks quietly.

Lily smiles at him, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the point of his chin. "If that's what you
want, then yes."

The way she says it strikes Sirius as a little odd, but before he can think too much on the subject,
the door opens, a tall man walking in, folder in hand. His dark eyes sweep over Sirius, bald head
glinting in the artificial light of his chocolate smooth skin.

"See you're back, Black," says the man in a low rumble. Sirius compares it to an earthquake.

Sirius cocks an eyebrow challengingly. "Yeah. What's it to you, Shacklebolt?"

Kingsley's face breaks into a warm smile as he steps forward and shakes his head. "Do you think
there will ever be a day when I see you that you're not injured in some capacity?" he asks
humorously.

"Dunno," says Sirius, leaning back on the table a bit, his body relaxing in the familiar presence.
"Doubtful at this point, isn't it?"

Lily, a nurse at the hospital, had known Kingsley for years. He'd only been at St Mungo's for a
little over a year when Lily had finally received her certifications and had joined their ranks.
Kingsley had always been kind to her, taking her under his wing and guiding her through the ins
and outs of the massive hospital. He'd become good friends with Lily and James, and by extension,
Sirius, Lily having made sure to set the two up together after Sirius' first minor injury.

Lily snorts now, her demeanor derisive. "Judging by the state of my house when you're home, it's
more than doubtful. You're a walking tornado of destruction, Sirius."

"Whoa, Lily," says Sirius, raising his hands in the air to stave her off. He motions to his leg. "I'm
injured. Be gentle with me, will you?" Lily fixes him with a stern glare and Sirius flashes her a
grin.

"Well," starts Kingsley, tossing his folder down on the examination table as he grabs a rolling stool
and wheels it over, seating himself in front of Sirius, "let's see what we're dealing with here."

He's a large man. Most would be intimidated by him and his hands, but Sirius has built up a high
level of trust for the physician over their years, so he simply watches as Kingsley carefully removes
the bandages around Sirius' knee and begins to prod and massage different places on Sirius' skin
with gentle, testing fingers.

Kingsley hums as he feels around, and Sirius fights back a wince as he touches on a particularly
sore spot. It still hurts, pain radiating up his entire thigh every now and then, though it's nothing
compared to what it had felt like when Sirius had first woken in Ireland.

Kingsley pulls back finally, grabbing his oversized folder and removing a few scans, holding them
up to the light. "Just as I thought," he says. "I only wanted to test it out for myself to make sure."
He turns to Sirius with a grave expression and Sirius' stomach twists unpleasantly, dread pooling
like melting ice water. "You've got a severe tear in your ACL, I'm afraid."
Sirius groans, his head dropping to hang in defeat, chin resting against his chest. Fuck me, he
thinks miserably.

"I don't think it's a critical injury, though," continues Kingsley, and Sirius' head snaps back up to
look at him hopefully. "It's bad, Sirius. I'm not going to lie to you about this, but I think if you take
it easy and work with it, it'll heal well enough so that you can get back to streaking across that
pitch."

"Christ, Kings," mutters Sirius, "don't do that to a bloke. The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Sorry," rumbles Kingsley, his chest vibrating with a chuckle. "We'll get you set up with a
physiotherapist and so long as you listen to what they tell you, everything should heal fine, so it
seems."

"And I know the perfect person!" chirps Lily happily from behind Kingsley. "I'll call his office
immediately."

"Lily, the team has Lockhart for things like this," protests Sirius, already knowing it's useless. Lily
has that resolved look in her green eyes that Sirius had learned long ago wasn't worth arguing
against, though he still tries on occasion, stubborn as he is. "I don't need you to set me up with
anyone."

"Gilderoy Lockhart is an imbecile, Sirius," counters Lily, crossing her arms over her chest,
standing resolute and preparing for the argument she knows she's going to win. Sirius sighs.
"You've said that yourself on multiple occasions. Just give this one a try. He's remarkable. The best
in his field of practice, which is saying a lot considering he's our age. A bit unconventional, maybe,
but he's nice and he deals with sport injuries on the regular. I think you'll like him, Sirius."

Sirius stares at Lily silently for a long moment before glancing at Kingsley questioningly. The man
shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not arguing with her," he admits, raising his hands as if to hold Sirius
back. "Besides, I think I know who she's referring to. He is good, Black. Probably the best to get
you back up as quickly as possible."

Sirius groans faintly, his shoulders slumping. "All right," he finally relents. Lily beams across the
room at him. "If it'll get me back on the pitch, set it up. I'll at least meet with him."

Lily plants her hand on her hip, looking smug. "I knew you'd see reason," she says matter-of-factly.

"You're a bloody nightmare, Evans," grumbles Sirius, but he smiles at her.

--------------------

Three days later, Sirius finds himself sitting in a bright office alone, where he's now been for close
to half an hour. He's getting impatient and fidgety, his skin feeling as though it's about to vibrate off
his bones. Sirius has long since accepted the fact that he doesn't do well with stationary activities,
which is shite because in his current predicament, he can't really do anything requiring large
amounts of movement.

He's in a foul mood as it is, regardless of the time he's spent waiting on this mysterious
physiotherapist of Lily's, a man whom he still has yet to learn the name. Not only does his knee
fucking hurt on a near constant basis, driving him mental at all hours of the day, but the rags in the
city were excruciating to see. His face was plastered on every single one, large, bold letters
questioning the end of his career and almost memorializing him as though he'd died instead of
simply injuring himself. The only time they'd been worse was when someone had spoken to the
press about Sirius' past familial issues. He'd barely escaped that nightmare with his sanity still
intact.

Sirius rolls his stiff neck around on his shoulders, willing the tension to dissipate, telling himself to
relax. He takes some time to gaze around the office, taking in his surroundings. It's a nice space,
comforting and warm, not cold as Sirius had initially imagined before being led inside, hobbling
along on his idiotic crutches. The entirety of one wall is made up of windows, letting in a generous
amount of light, but mirror-tinted on the outside, allowing for privacy which Sirius supposes is
necessary at times in the man's profession. There are plants everywhere, balancing on the desk
across from him, some dangling from the ceiling, small trees in the corners.

A few pictures are smattered across the walls, intermingling with the artwork also scattered about.
Sirius has never been one who much appreciates art, but these aren't your typical generic and stuffy
pieces. They have originality, some of them humor. One of them hanging on the wall beside the
large desk is an abstract sort of piece, looking faintly like a black dog with purple splotches of
color in his fur, riding a bicycle. Sirius raises his eyebrows at it, tilting his head in consideration. It
makes him smile before he continues his study of the room.

He's sitting on a comfortable sofa against the wall also containing the door to the office. There are
two chairs on either side, looking large and plush. The walls surrounding him are painted in a
warm rusty red, something Sirius would usually consider too dark, but the windows seem to
counteract that. Sirius has never been to an office that feels so homey, almost as though someone
lives within it instead of merely working here.

Taking another cursory look around, Sirius finally notices and settles on the one thing that stands
out the most about the room. There are no degrees or licenses displayed anywhere in sight. Sirius
finds this strangely odd, as though the man doesn't like to boast about his apparently rather grand
accomplishments.

Sirius huffs in frustration. He's just considering leaving when the door bursts open, startling him
from his lazy position on the sofa as a man barrels in, kicking the offending piece of wood closed
behind him. He looks frazzled and frantic, a large stack of haphazard files piled in one arm,
sloshing cup of tea clutched tightly in his free hand. He scrambles over and around the dark
wooden desk on the opposite side of the room, Sirius studying his appearance with wide eyes.

Lily had been right, the man is around their age, his face young and bright. His brown wavy hair is
a chaotic mess on top of his head, falling over his eyes while pieces at the sides stick out in flyaway
strands. He's thin, almost too thin, but Sirius can see beneath his clothing the tell-tale signs of
hidden muscles and definition. His fashion sense also surprises Sirius, who had been expecting
something far more corporate. Instead, the man shuffling files and other odds and ends around on
his desk is dressed only in some obscure band tee shirt, covered by a pale blue, wrinkled button up
that's open and flapping freely around the waist of his faded jeans. The sleeves are rolled up,
revealing pale forearms, veins bulging slightly under the skin, feeding into delicate, sharp-boned
wrists.

"Sorry," says the man finally, still sorting things on his desk. "Spectacular fucking morning, let me
tell you. Spilled tea on myself in the car on my way here, so I had to go all the way back home to
change. Threw the whole day off. Things around here aren't usually so chaotic. I'm sorry about
how long you've been waiting." He looks up, then, briefly, revealing glinting brown eyes set in a
freckled face.

Sirius blinks. Who had Lily set him up with? He stares at the man, something familiar nagging in
the back of his mind, causing his brow to furrow before he dismisses it.
The man eventually stops fiddling with the items on his desk and looks at Sirius properly, an easy,
warm smile spreading over his face. His eyebrows raise slightly, something like recognition
flickering through his eyes before it's gone. He rounds the desk and settles his weight back against
it, pushing his hands into his pockets.

"Sorry," he repeats. "How about we start again, Mr Black?"

Sirius realizes belatedly that he's gaping. He snaps his mouth closed and nods. The man's smile
grows.

"I've looked over your file," he says, "along with your scans. I think I've put together a regimen that
will be very beneficial if you'll allow me to try?"

Sirius is surprised by the question in the man's tone. Isn't he supposed to be told what he's meant to
do? Ordered around until his stubbornness takes over and he eventually searches out someone
new? He already feels off kilter, like he's landed on the wrong foot, kicked the ball too early and
sent it shooting out of bounds.

"All right," he says slowly. "I'll give it a go, yeah."

The man beams at him happily. "Fantastic," he chirps. His energy is infectious to Sirius, bubbling
up something warm inside him. "Well, Mr Black – actually, hang on a tic. I hate the formalities, I'll
admit. Care if I call you Sirius instead?"

Sirius blinks again, once more thrown off his footing. "Er…'course, yeah. Hate the Black name,
anyhow. I'd ditch it if I could."

"Brilliant!" the man says, grinning brightly, a small, deep chuckle emerging from his throat. "I'm
Remus Lupin." He steps forward until he's in front of Sirius, stretching his hand out in offering.
"Remus, if you please."

Sirius accepts the hand, finding it firm and warm, just like everything else about the man
surrounding him. Sirius is suddenly very aware and self-conscious about his own chronically cold
hands. He looks up into Remus' face, the other man still smiling down at him pleasantly, and
something suddenly clicks into place in Sirius' brain.

"I know you," he says. Remus' eyebrows raise slightly, the rest of his face remaining neutral. "You
were the bloke I ran into at the shop last week."

Remus' smile slowly blossoms across his faintly freckled face, growing wide and large, showing
off the edges of his white teeth. "The biscuits," he murmurs. "I remember. Didn't think you did."
His hand is still clasped around Sirius', showing no signs of releasing any time soon. "How did
your dinner work out, then?"

Sirius flashes him a grin. "They were for my godson, actually," he explains. "Traded them off for a
bath that night. It didn't work the way we'd planned."

"Ah," says Remus, a humorous edge to his voice, finally releasing his hand and stepping back,
settling into one of the plush chairs, "bribing small children. I like your style."

He's leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his long thighs, looking completely immersed in
all Sirius has to say. Sirius thinks he understands what Lily was trying to tell him when
recommending the man. He feels completely comfortable and relaxed in his presence.

Sirius laughs, loud and bold. Remus' eyes crinkle in the corners as he watches him. "Don't judge,"
protests Sirius. "We don't do it often. And we will now never do it again, knowing firsthand it does
not work."

Remus raises his hands, chuckling along with him. "No judgements. Though I would recommend
keeping the bribery to children you personally know. Branching out may get a bit awkward and
illegal."

Sirius chokes. "Wow," he says, impressed. "My doc's got wit. Color me purple in surprise."

"Is purple the color of surprise, then? And not a doctor," denies Remus, smiling and shaking his
head. "Just an interested party trying to keep you out of a prison cell. I'd take my advice if I were
you."

"It is, and noted," replies Sirius, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. "Can't believe I literally
ran into you less than a week ago. What are the chances?"

Remus laughs deeply. "No idea," he replies. "Didn't even know who you were until my assistant
and I were going through your file. He's a big fan. Had to explain it to me. I'm not an avid follower
of footie, sorry to say. I'll watch a match on occasion when I have the time or I'm out with my
mates, but no one would ever confuse me with a hooligan."

"Really?" says Sirius, cocking his head to the side slightly in bemusement. "Could have sworn you
recognized me, the way you looked at me at the shop."

Remus' face doesn't really change, his smile staying in place, never wavering. Only the creases at
the corners of his eyes vanish, something flashing across his brown gaze before it's gone just as
quickly as it appears.

"Sorry, hadn't the foggiest," he insists. He suddenly claps his hands down on his legs with a loud
smacking sound. "Well, as entertaining as this is, it's not why you're here, is it? We'll never get you
healed and back on that pitch if we keep flapping our tongues all day."

Remus stands, walking over to his desk and grabbing a fairly thick file. Sirius stares at it curiously,
wondering if it's all about him and what it could possibly contain to be so ominously large. The
other man flips it open as he leans back on his desk again, eyes dancing over the contents in the
folder.

"I'm sure you're aware that ACL injuries are common. The procedure is fairly standard most times,
though yours is a little more damaged than we typically like to see in athletes, especially
professional ones like yourself."

Remus pauses, looking up, lowering the file slightly as his eyes settle on Sirius' face. He's not sure
what his expression's twisted into, but apparently Remus sees something in it that causes him to
want to reassure.

"I'm scaring you," he says gently. "Don't worry, Sirius. I'm going to get you back out there where
you belong. Trust me, yeah?" He smiles again as Sirius nods, returning to his folder. "I'm certainly
going to follow all the normal practices for injuries such as yours, but I'm also going to add in some
activities that I've found help immensely as well. Normal physiotherapy appointments are
scheduled two to three times weekly, but I'd prefer to see you five days if possible. Four at the
minimum. I'm not sure how that fits into your current schedule."

Sirius returns to his former blinking, astounded by the way Remus seems to swell and fill the entire
room around him without any effort at all. He shrugs finally, motioning to his leg.
"Can't say much is happening right now," he admits. "I'll probably still need to attend practices
when the team is local, just to keep up to date on what's happening, but beyond that, I've got
nothing."

Remus smiles again, though it's a little odd and slightly strained. "We'll try for five days weekly,
then," he says, grabbing a biro and scribbling something quickly in the file. "Adjust from there if
we have to.

"I've got your scans here from Ireland, as well as the ones they took at Mungo's," he continues,
tapping the biro against the file indicatively, "but I'd like to get my own if you don't mind? Just so I
can get the proper positioning and such. I'll want to repeat those weekly, to monitor your progress.
We've got a small machine here. It should suit our purposes so you don't have to take multiple trips
to hospital. That's a lousy use of your time."

Sirius can't do much more than nod. He's had mild sessions of physiotherapy before, mostly with
Lockhart who is most certainly a gormless pillock, someone who had weaseled and charmed his
way into a job he didn't truly understand how to do properly. Therefore, Sirius had massive doubts
about starting the process before coming here today. Yet, since Remus had first spoken, his doubts
have been continuously banished. Remus seems self-assured, confident in his position and
knowledge, setting Sirius at ease with his obvious plan and conviction that he would return Sirius
to his former glory.

"That…all sounds ace, mate," acquiesces Sirius, his head spinning a little from all the
straightforward talk of the past few minutes.

Remus flashes him a bright smile. "Brilliant," he says happily, turning to set the file on his desk
before reaching around to the other side, grabbing a black case.

He carries it over to Sirius, placing in on a small table between the sofa and the chair closest to
them. Remus crouches down next to Sirius, flipping open the case, revealing several complicated
looking instruments, some looking as though they belonged on a drafting table.

"I'm going to take some measurements," explains Remus, glancing up and noticing Sirius eyeing
the contents with trepidation. "It's nothing you have to concern yourself with, not really. Just helps
me plan out your treatment a bit further. Most can be taken easily enough, though you may have to
stand a bit. All right with that?"

"Yeah, 'course," agrees Sirius. "Whatever you need. Balance is a bit off, though, got to warn you.
Can't put much weight on the knee right now. Might topple over on you."

"Don't worry," says Remus, smiling warmly again. "I won't let you fall." Sirius finds he's becoming
a little addicted to the slow spread of the other man's lips. He shakes the thought away as Remus
points to his joggers. "I am going to need those off, I'm afraid. Sorry, I know it's a bit awkward to
strip off your trousers in front of a near stranger, but that's the job sometimes. It's one of the reasons
I insist being on a first name basis with most everyone. Puts them at ease."

Listening to Remus talk, Sirius can understand the meaning behind his words and actions. He does
put people at ease with his soothing voice and comfortable chatter. Well, he's put Sirius at ease, at
least.

He's not too concerned about removing the joggers. He's never been one to be ashamed of his
body. Sirius' and James' professors used to beg them to keep themselves covered while they were
in school, constantly stripping most of their clothing in the middle of the field after a match or
practice on their ways to the changing rooms. They'd never had any shame. Sirius is only relieved
now that he'd decided to put on a decent pair of pants that morning before leaving the Potter's
house.

Sirius shifts himself to the edge of the sofa, struggling a bit to stand. Remus' hands are immediately
there at his arm, helping to leverage him up and keep him stable as Sirius quickly works the
joggers down from his hips and over his heavily bandaged knee. They bunch around his ankles. He
glances at Remus, realizing suddenly that the man is taller than he is by several centimeters, Sirius
having to look up at him a little.

"Need them completely off?" he questions. There's an odd twisting in the pit of his stomach that
feels a bit like nervousness, piquing Sirius' curiosity, but he mentally bats it away.

Remus nods. "Need your entire leg, toes to hip," he replies, beginning to urge Sirius back down to
the sofa. "Sit down. I'll pull your shoes."

Sirius settles back on the cushions as Remus kneels in front of him, gently working off his trainers
and setting them carefully to the side before stripping the joggers over his feet. He folds them
meticulously, placing them in the chair to his left.

"You can stay seated for now," informs Remus, reaching for the case without standing, his long
arm stretching out, thin fingers wrapping the thick black lining with self-assurance. "I'll get what I
can before I have to make you stand again."

His free hand lifts as he settles the case on the soft grey of the carpeted floor, his forefinger tapping
lightly at Sirius' bandage. "Have to take this off, all right?" He glances up at Sirius, watching him
as Sirius motions in approval. Remus' eyebrows raise in faint amusement, the smile tugging back
into place.

Remus' fingers begin to work expertly over the beige bandage, unwrapping and removing it with
concentrated care. He clicks his tongue a few times in disapproval as he reveals the deep red
indentations pressed into Sirius' skin from the constant pressure, a frown forming for the first time
on his open face.

"Before you leave today, after I've got your measurements," he murmurs as he continues to remove
the offending strip of cloth, "I'll get you a brace to wear instead. It'll increase your mobility a little,
though I still don't advise putting much weight on it yet. It won't leave behind such painful marks,
though, I can assure you of that."

Once the bandage is out of the way, Remus tosses it to the side carelessly, showing much less
regard for it than he had Sirius' trousers or shoes. Sirius almost laughs at the twist of his nose when
he turns back. Remus looks up at him, raising his eyebrows again as he wiggles his fingers
questioningly. Sirius nods faintly, urging him on.

Remus' fingertips begin to work over Sirius' knee in a similar fashion to the way Kingsley's had,
though he's more gentle, his touch softer and almost delicate. He pinches his thumb and forefinger
on either side of the cap of Sirius' knee as his free hand moves down to Sirius' ankle, fingers
cradling the underside as he slowly lifts the leg up, testing the muscles and ligaments in his knee.

Sirius watches his every move as the man works, his actions skilled and practiced, confident. Sirius
is a little mesmerized by the process, by the way his hands and fingers drift and ghost along his
skin, slipping around the underside of his knee, moving slightly up his thigh, dropping down along
his calf muscle. Sirius has never been touched with so much tenderness in his life, not even by Lily
or Mrs Potter, their caring, maternal natures strong and well-placed, but never like this. And, of
course, it would have to be Sirius' bloody physiotherapist that finally gives him exactly what he's
never realized he's always been missing.

Sirius clears his throat against the thoughts quickly building inside his head, not thinking about the
action as he does so. Remus glances up at him, checking that he's all right. Sirius forces a small
smile. Remus narrows his eyes a little, studying him for a brief moment before returning to his
work, finally pulling out some of the instruments and making use of them. It's a slow process, or so
Sirius thinks. He finds himself wondering if it always takes this long, or if Sirius is just too
impatient for his own good, drawing the encounter out in his head further than the time it's actually
taking.

A tiny thought nudges at his brain, something slightly pleasing and a little panic-inducing. He
wonders, briefly, if maybe Remus is drawing it out purposefully. Then he's silently chastising
himself, because yes, he realizes how foolish he sounds, thank you.

Remus finally stows most of his instruments and stands, reaching out for Sirius' arm again. "Last
bit," he says pleasantly. "Up you go."

He hoists him up to his feet effortlessly, Sirius not really helping at all, the sudden motion sending
him slightly off balance and hitting into Remus' chest with a small amount of force. Sirius throws
his free arm out to his side to regain his balance, but Remus' grip on his arm is firm, his other hand
coming up to rest against Sirius' side until he stops flailing.

The other man chuckles, the vibrations from his chest radiating through Sirius' body in a pleasant
way. "I told you I wouldn't let you fall," says Remus in amusement, his brown eyes dancing.

Sirius looks up at him with wide eyes. "Tell that to my equilibrium," he grumbles, though he's also
laughing at himself. "It doesn't believe you."

Remus' face suddenly turns solemn. "I need you to trust me for this to work, Sirius," he reminds
him. "None of this will mean anything in the end if you don't, I promise you that."

Sirius' eyes shift over the other man, considering him for a short moment. "I trust you, Remus," he
says, and he's surprised to find they aren't empty words. He feels a sense of kinship with Remus,
which is absolutely mental considering he's only known him for half an hour.

Remus smiles, brightening his expression again. He takes a small step back, releasing his grip on
Sirius but keeping his hands raised in preparation until he's certain Sirius is stable enough to remain
upright on his own. He bends down, removing one last instrument from his case. It looks like
nothing more than a fancy measuring strip to Sirius, shining like liquid silver with numerous
amounts of different markings on its extendable arm.

Remus crouches in front of him again, his head level with Sirius' groin. Sirius sucks in a faint
breath, thankful that Remus doesn't seem to notice. He's definitely considering finding himself a
good lay before he returns here again, just to clear his head a bit. He couldn't go through five-day-
a-week sessions with these intrusive thoughts swelling in his mind.

Remus takes the measurements of his leg with detailed precision, his tongue peeking out, held
between his teeth in concentration. Sirius raises his head to look at the ceiling instead of staring
down at him, because that is just no good at all. The instrument starts at his toes, Remus stretching
it up to Sirius' ankle, then moving a careful path further north, measuring between the midway
point of his calf to his ankle, knee to calf, thigh to knee, until finally hip to knee, his fingers moving
the bottom of Sirius' shirt out of his way, brushing lightly over a small strip of exposed skin. Sirius
bites the inside of his cheek, eyes remaining firmly fixed on the ceiling above his head.
"That's sorted now," announces Remus finally. "You all right?" Sirius looks down to see Remus
staring up at him oddly as his fingers work to close the black case.

"Yeah, all good. Just trying to remember all the words to London Calling."

Remus' mouth wobbles slightly, like he's fighting back laughter. "The Clash, eh? Should have
figured. You look the type."

"The type? What type is that, exactly?" asks Sirius with a smirk.

"You know," says Remus vaguely as he stands to his full height, looking down at Sirius, "long,
dark hair, ghostly, mysterious eyes, probably have tattoos, I'm sure." He flicks his fingers at Sirius'
jacket draped over the arm of the sofa behind him. "Leather jackets. Didn't you also mention you
have a bike? Motorbike, I'm assuming. You know, that type. The enigmatic eighties rock type."

"That's a bad thing?" counters Sirius, cocking his head to the side.

Remus chuckles. "I never said that," he denies.

"Well, I'll have you know that my musical tastes stretch far and wide. But yes, I'm a fan of classics,
rock especially. Queen's a personal favorite. Want to judge me for that, too?"

Remus suddenly grins at him brightly, turning away and walking across the room to the opposite
wall. He grabs a small case hanging there that Sirius had overlooked earlier, carrying it back to
him. Remus holds it out until Sirius takes it in his hands to examine it closer. They were guitar
picks, all different colors, most with faint scribbles on them resembling signatures.

"Brian Mays'," informs Remus, motioning with his head to the case. "I bloody love Queen. Been to
a few of their performances. It'll never be the same without Mercury, but…" He shrugs a little
sadly. "Missed that boat by a bit, didn't I?"

Sirius hums knowingly. He would have done almost anything to see the band with their original
lead.

"At least now I know you've got some decent taste in you somewhere," comments Sirius, flicking
Remus' button up shirt to the side to expose his band shirt beneath. "You had me worried, I must
say. Who are they?"

Remus glances down suddenly, looking faintly surprised when he sees his shirt. "Shit. Didn't even
notice what I threw on this morning when I changed so quickly. Just grabbed the first clean thing I
found." He shifts his eyes back up to Sirius, blinking twice, slowly, like waking from a dream,
before the smile is back on his face. "Longwave. They're called Longwave. Most people don't
know them here. They're an American band. Granted, most people don't know them there either,
from what I've gathered."

"Good music?" asks Sirius curiously. He's always looking for new music for his training sessions
and runs. "I suppose that's a ridiculous question. You wouldn't have their shirt if you didn't think
they're music wasn't worth it. How'd you find them?"

Remus' eyes dim a little, just briefly. "Someone introduced them to me," he replies. Then he's
suddenly changing the subject and Sirius only then remembers who Remus is and why Sirius is
here in the first place, feeling so much like he's speaking to a friend instead of an almost stranger.
"Shall we get your trousers back on?"

Sirius glances down, having forgotten temporarily that's he's only standing in his pants at the
current moment. When he looks back up at Remus, the man is smirking at him in amusement.
Sirius feels heat travel up his neck.

"Cute, Sirius. No wonder your fans love you as much as they do," tosses out Remus as he turns to
grab Sirius' folded joggers. He says it flippantly, like it means nothing, but the flutter returns to
Sirius' stomach, and he internally curses himself.

"It's the eyes, I think," returns Sirius, trying to remain casual. "Gets them every time. What did you
call them? Mysterious?"

Remus chuckles as he kneels in front of Sirius again. "I did, yes," he responds. "All right, we'll do
your bad leg first. You can use me for support to keep your balance."

Sirius tries to keep himself steady as he lifts his foot from the ground, but he immediately feels
himself about to topple over, so he reaches out to grip at Remus' shoulder as the man quickly slides
the leg of the joggers past Sirius' toes. When it's on and situated, Remus shifts his position on the
floor slightly, glancing up at Sirius.

"You'll have to put some weight on your knee, but it should be fine for such a brief time. Just make
sure to lean most of your weight into me instead of relying on it, yeah?" instructs Remus.

Sirius nods as Remus smiles up at him, Sirius tentatively pressing his hands onto his shoulder with
a small amount of his weight. Remus jostles his arm a little, encouraging Sirius, telling him
wordlessly that it's fine, so Sirius does as he was told and bears his weight down on the other man
as he shuffles slightly to lift his other foot. Remus is even faster with this leg, quickly settling the
joggers in place so that Sirius can shift his weight back to his undamaged knee. Remus grips the
waistband and lifts them to the bottom of Sirius' thighs before releasing them to Sirius' hands and
stepping back a little.

Once Sirius has the joggers settled back over his hips, Remus looks him over, his brown eyes
lingering for an extra second on Sirius' hands before completing their scan and meeting Sirius'
gaze. "We'll get you seated, and I'll help you on with your trainers," he tells him, gripping Sirius'
arm firmly again and urging him back to the sofa.

Sirius watches as Remus wiggles his shoes back over his feet, being more careful with his
movements on the foot connected to Sirius' injured leg. He's just finishing up the laces when
there's a subtle knock on the door. Remus shouts that it's fine to enter and the door swings open,
another man stepping inside.

He's a bit shorter than Sirius, that's instantly obvious, and carrying a small amount of extra weight
around his middle, though Sirius thinks it suits him. He's blonde headed, his hair cut short and
tailored, the complete opposite to Remus' wild mane of shaggy waves. He's got small, bright blues
eyes that are set back into a pinched, flushed face. Sirius thinks he looks like an all right chap,
though maybe a bit harried.

The man's eyes flicker over Sirius as Remus stands and walks to his desk. He picks up Sirius' file
and passes it over.

"This is Peter Pettigrew," introduces Remus, motioning with his head in Pettigrew's direction.
"He's the assistant to which I was referring earlier. He's also my best mate, but don't let that sway
you any." Remus chuckles teasingly as Pettigrew rolls his eyes. "I like for Pete to be up-to-date on
all the people I see. He handles the more minor injuries that come in, but I like for him to know
what's going on, just in case. You'll be seeing a great deal of him, so get used to his adorable face."
Remus reaches out, gripping Pettigrew's chin between two fingers and shaking his gently, smiling
 brightly.

Pettigrew swats him away, grumbling faintly, though he's smiling, too. "You're an embarrassing
sod, d'you know that?" he mutters. Remus winks at him and Pettigrew huffs, turning to face Sirius.
"And as I'm sure he's already informed you, he doesn't like formality, so let's get this out of the
way and say you can call me Peter. Pettigrew is a mouthful, too, unlike Lupin, which just bloody
well rolls off the tongue."

Sirius has to agree with the other man. He thinks everything about Remus would roll off the tongue
rather easily. Fuck, shut up, you blithering idiot.

"Nice to meet you," says Sirius.

Peter smiles, almost as warmly as Remus, like he's been taking lessons. "You, too. Big fan. Been
following you since you started," he nearly gushes, though Sirius can see he's trying to restrain
himself and remain somewhat professional. It makes Sirius mildly uncomfortable. He doesn't mind
the attention under most circumstances. It's the life he signed up for in certain ways, but he finds it
awkward and a little irritating when he's simply trying to live his life and someone recognizes him
on the street and begins to fawn. It makes his skin crawl. "You're one of the best strikers to come
along for a while. Top tier, really, mate."

"Thanks," mumbles Sirius, a bit sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Remus' eyes drift over him. He seems to realize Sirius' awkwardness and seamlessly shifts the
subject. "We're going to get Sirius in for some scans today before he leaves us, and then once
weekly after that. Also, he needs a brace." Remus points with a long finger to the bandage still
strewn across the carpet. "That thing is a travesty. I never want to see it again."

Peter sighs wearily. "Why do they insist on that?" he bemoans. "They do more harm than they are
helpful."

Remus hums in agreement, turning back to Sirius. "Well, Sirius, that's pretty much all for today.
I'm afraid I have another appointment on the books, so Peter will be taking you to sort out the scans
and brace," he says, and Sirius is surprised to see that he does look very regretful. "Make sure to
speak with Rosmerta on your way out. She'll set you up with a proper schedule."

Sirius nods in understanding as Remus steps forward again, helping Sirius to stand and locking
their hands together once more. The smile is there again, just as open and warm as it had been the
first time.

"I'll see you soon, Sirius," says Remus, like a promise.

"See ya, Remus," returns Sirius before gathering his things and hobbling behind Peter from the
office, Remus' eyes following his retreating form.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, now I'm posting weekly, but I had to introduce Remus. I just love him so much
in this story (also always, let's not lie about that).

I'll also be posting weekly snippets of future chapters on Tumblr, along with other
things I feel relate to this story. Feel free to come join me!
 Playroom, Water, & Non-Feelings
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"How was it?" asks Lily as she helps Sirius into the car once he's finished, pecking a quick kiss to
his cheek.

"Good, yeah," replies Sirius as he maneuvers himself into the passenger seat with Lily's guiding
hands.

Lily closes the door and rounds to the other side as Sirius snaps his safety belt in place. She settles
herself in the seat beside him, fidgeting with her own belt before starting the car and steering them
out of the car park.

"So, you liked him, then?" she says.

"Yes, Lily," answers Sirius, knowing she's fishing for facts. "He was…nice."

Lily's eyes dart to him briefly before looking back at the road ahead of them. "Just nice?"

"S'pose so, yeah," he mumbles. He sees Lily looking at him again and he huffs in frustration.
"What more do you want me to say? He was nice. I was impressed."

"I don't know," murmurs Lily thoughtfully. "You said it in an odd sort of way, like there was more
to it." They stop at a traffic light and Lily turns to look at him fully, studying his face. She seems to
let the small matter drop for the moment as she says, "I'm happy you were impressed. He's a very
intriguing man. Always kind. He's very easy to be around. Makes you feel comfortable instantly."

"Noticed that, yeah," agrees Sirius. "He definitely seems to know what he's doing, I'll give him
that. I always knew Lockhart was a gigantic chuffer, but fuck, Lily. Compared to this bloke,
Lockhart is a toddler playing doctor. And he hasn't even actually done anything yet, just talked to
me and took some measurements of my leg."

Lily hums in full agreement, turning back to the road as the light shifts and traffic begins to move
again. "Lupin comes very highly recommended by a lot of colleagues. You can't go wrong with
him, from what I hear."

"Remus," corrects Sirius automatically as he gazes out the window at the passing buildings.

"What?"

"He likes to be called Remus," says Sirius. "Told me he doesn't like formalities. Calls everyone by
their first names."

"He does, I've noticed that," mumbles Lily, her brow furrowed curiously as she stares forward. Her
gaze flickers in his direction again. "Though he's never told me I can call him Remus in a
professional setting."

Sirius frowns. "Why wouldn't he? He was insistent on it."

"I don't know," muses Lily with a sly smile. "Perhaps he doesn't like me as much as you." Sirius
snorts derisively, turning back to the window. "He is very handsome, Sirius."
Sirius rolls his eyes and doesn't respond, pulling out his phone instead and connecting it to the car.
He opens his music app and begins searching for Longwave, his curiosity piqued.

--------------------

It's the following Monday before Sirius returns to Remus' office, still hobbling along on his bloody
crutches, though he does have to admit that the brace has been much better than the bandage.
Rosmerta takes him back to Remus as soon as he arrives, though he's early, Lily having driven him
during her lunch hour. Sirius hates not being able to transport himself. He still can, technically, the
injury sustained to his left leg, leaving his right free to work the pedals, but all Sirius has is his
bike, which he certainly can't ride in this condition, and his friends need their cars for their own
lives.

Rosmerta knocks softly on the door before immediately opening it. Sirius steps inside, the woman
closing the door behind him. He spies Remus by the window, one shoulder resting on the thin
frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He's gazing out the glass with a distant expression, face
pinched and slightly sullen. Sirius glances around the room uncertainly, suddenly feeling as though
he's intruding. He clears his throat softly, unsure what else to do.

Remus looks over, blinking once before focusing on him. A smile breaks over his face instantly.
"Hallo, Sirius," he greets happily, all signs of sullenness now gone. Sirius wonders if he's acting,
storing it away for later use when he's alone again. "All right? How's the knee?"

"All right, Remus," he returns, looking down at his leg, flexing it a little within the brace. "Not as
bad as before. The brace has been good. Thanks for that."

"'Course," responds Remus, walking over to him. "Figured it would make things a bit more
comfortable for you. Those bandages most hospitals use are rubbish. They don't really do anything
but keep you immobile, which isn't always the best option."

He motions for Sirius to sit so that he can take his weight off the awkward crutches, and Sirius
does gratefully. He's been using them for more than a week now and his arms are bruised and
tender beyond belief. As Sirius settles down on the sofa, Remus takes the seat beside him, leaning
back into the corner, perfectly relaxed.

"I looked over the scans Pete took last week," says Remus. "The angling is better in these, and
frankly so is the imaging. My machine is much better than most hospitals, shockingly." He winks
at Sirius, causing him to chuckle. "Unfortunately, they also show that your original scans were
mostly accurate. This doesn't really change anything, so don't panic. Like I said before, it just helps
me to focus your treatment a bit better.

"Today, I'm going to take you into the Playroom," continues Remus, but Sirius stops him.

"Playroom?" he interjects curiously.

Remus smiles. "That's what I call it," he supplies. "A room for adults like me who are interested in
these sorts of things. It's filled with a myriad of fun machines and equipment to play with all day
long. Magical, really." His smile twitches up a bit more as Sirius huffs a laugh. "I just want to test
out your mobility today. See what your range of motion is to determine where it's best to start off.
Tomorrow, the real fun begins."

"What are we doing tomorrow?" questions Sirius, his interest piqued.

Remus raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. "Secrets," he says cryptically. "I think you'll like
it, though. Don't worry about that."

"All right," accepts Sirius easily. Remus looks mildly surprised and Sirius shrugs. "You said to
trust you. That's what I'm doing."

Remus studies him for a long moment, like he's trying to fit Sirius into a puzzle that doesn't quite
work, his smile falling from his face. Then he's shaking his head, the smile returning, looking a
little mystified around the edges.

"You're an intriguing chap, Sirius Black," he murmurs, still staring across the small space between
them with befuddled eyes. "This might just turn into a beautiful friendship."

Friendship? thinks Sirius as he watches Remus shift to stand. Sirius is finding that he doesn't mind
the idea of a friendship with the other man, his easy-going attitude and humor settling in nicely
with what Sirius typically locates in most of his closest friends. Yet, Sirius is aware that one day,
he'll either be healed enough to no longer require the constant physio or he'll hit the ever-looming
wall that happens to so many other athletes in his situation. Either way, it'll mean no longer coming
to see Remus here at his office. Will he still see him beyond that?

"Let's get you out there and see what you've got, Black," announces Remus, his arm swinging in to
loop under Sirius', helping him up. "I've heard great things about your skills. You've got a lot to
prove to me."

Sirius laughs weakly at the teasing tone in Remus' voice, the nervous flutter returning to his
stomach. He'd like very much to show Remus a great number of his skills. Stop. It. he chastises
himself. Fucking hell, you're a child with no control, Padfoot.

"Take one crutch if you want," offers Remus. "I can support your other side while we move. Give
at least one arm a break for a bit. I realize those things are a silent killer." He eyes Sirius for a
moment as he collects one of his abandoned crutches, cringing internally as it slips under the arm
not held by Remus. "I'd offer a wheelchair, but I'm fairly certain you won't like that much."

Sirius laughs. "You're a quick study, Remus," comments Sirius as he situates himself.

Remus hums. "Had to be," he says, motioning around to the room at large. It's the first somewhat
boastful thing Sirius has witnessed from the man, and it's still said with an almost demeaning air,
as though Remus doesn't view his accomplishments with any sort of value.

He leads Sirius from the office and down a wide hallway until they reach an unassuming door at
the far end. Remus twists the knob with his free hand, and they enter a room filled with different
tables and daunting exercise machines. There are padded mats scattered around on the floor in a
precise fashion, different styles and levels of weights hanging from the walls in orderly rows. In
one corner, there are various sizes of inflated balls that Sirius thinks under alternative
circumstances he could manipulate into some good fun, like he and James had done in their school
years.

The room is empty save for Peter at the far side, performing some sort of massage therapy on a
woman's elbow. He glances up as they enter, nodding his head up in a pleasant greeting before
returning his attention back to the woman in front of him.

"Is it just you two here, then?" asks Sirius in curiosity as Remus leads him around some of the
machines. It seems odd to Sirius. Surely Remus has a heavy load of patients considering what Lily
had said about his recommendations.
"I've got one other girl who helps on the minor cases, but she's on holiday this week. Marlene.
You'd like her. She's punky," replies Remus with a knowing grin. "Peter and I handle most
everything that comes in. I try not to bog us down too much if it can be helped. Rosmerta is very
adept at managing the intake and schedules. Thanks to her, I don't have to concern myself much
with it unless she needs approval for an additional person on the books. Means I can focus my time
on you."

Sirius smiles at the way Remus seems to single him out, though he knows the man is most likely
referring to the royal 'you'. Remus stops him when they reach one of the mats on the floor,
positioned up against the wall.

"We'll start here," he informs. "Sorry about the floor, but it works better than a table for this. And
the mats are extremely comfortable, I promise you that."

He helps Sirius down to the floor, removing the crutch from him and discarding it nearby. Remus
keeps one hand gripped around Sirius' arm as a steadying support as he uses his other to clutch at
Sirius' calf to keep his leg straight and unbending. Remus assures that Sirius' back is resting firmly
against the wall before he crouches down next to him, arms draped over his thighs, muscles
straining against the fabric of his jeans. Sirius purposefully looks up to his face, keeping his eyes
fixed.

"We're going to start with some heel slides. They're relatively easy and allow for a lot of control,"
explains Remus. He shifts then, dropping down to his knees as his hands begin working to remove
Sirius' brace. "You'll keep your right leg outstretched and start with your left in the same position."

He drops the brace next to the crutch, turning back and settling one hand on Sirius' bare knee, him
having been foresighted enough to wear shorts today, while the other rests on top of his ankle.
Remus' fingers guide in vague motions, explaining to Sirius what he'll be doing.

"The purpose is to keep your heel pressed against the mat as you slowly bend your knee up as far
as you can, then let it slide back down, always keeping your heel flat and stable," he says, turning
to look back at Sirius with an encouraging smile. "I'll help you along. There will be some
discomfort and strain, mainly because you've gone over a week with very little movement in the
muscles and they've began to atrophy slightly, but we don't want any pain, all right? Don't be a
hero, Sirius. That won't help you, only cause more damage. If you feel pain, tell me and we know
the limit's been reached."

Sirius nods in understanding and Remus turns back to his leg. The hand on his knee moves beneath
it, cupping just below the bend, while his other remains resting on Sirius' ankle. He puts slight
pressure on it, urging him to move. Sirius cautiously flexes the muscles in his knee, pulling it up in
the air towards him. He grunts faintly at the protesting flare around the joint and Remus looks
around at him, watching his face, his hand remaining a firm pressure on Sirius' ankle. When Sirius
grimaces at the first feeling of pain, Remus' fingers clench into his skin, forcing him to stop.

"All right," he says soothingly. "That's good. You've got more range than I was anticipating. That's
good, Sirius. Let's lower it back down now, just as slowly." His hands continue to guide as Sirius
relaxes the muscles in his leg. "Good, good. We'll try to do that nine more times, yeah? Think you
can manage?"

Sirius grins at him. "Easy as tucking into a Sunday pudding," he replies, causing Remus to laugh,
low and melodious as he begins to guide Sirius through the exercise again.

When they finish, Remus sits back on his heels, looking pleased. "You did great, Sirius," he
compliments. Sirius appreciates the notion, but he didn't really do anything. "We'll move on to the
next now. The good thing about the exercises we're doing today is that you can do most of them on
your own while you're home."

"May still be a little difficult with a hyperactive four-year-old racing about, trying to help," says
Sirius in amusement. "His mum's a nurse, so he's always trying to fix people. If I had a cast, it'd be
covered in stickers and crudely drawn stitches by now. Don't think he still hasn't tried."

He expects Remus to laugh, but the man only stares at him oddly, something resembling
disappointment flashing in his brown eyes. Sirius frowns questioningly and Remus shakes his
head, his smile returning easily, though Sirius can see it isn't as effortless as Remus is trying to
make it seem.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "Didn't realize you had a son or spouse. Suppose I never really asked. Took
me by surprise."

Sirius' eyes widen. "Oh, no," he denies hurriedly. "I'm talking about my godson, my best mates'
son. His name's Harry."

"Oh," mumbles Remus, looking vaguely confused. "He lives with you, then?"

"No," replies Sirius, smiling a little. "I sort of…squat with them."

Remus raises his eyebrows in surprise. "The big footie star doesn't have a place of his own?" he
teases. "That seems a bit difficult to believe."

Sirius fidgets slightly, mildly uncomfortable with the subject, though he realizes not as much as he
usually is in these situations. "No, I do. I own a flat that's very large and spacious and filled with
mostly useless things that I don't care much about." He picks at a piece of lint on his shorts. "I'm
not here much, though, so when I am, I typically stay with them instead of going home. I didn't
have much familial love growing up, so I've sort of…latched into the family I've managed to find
myself a part of."

He looks up at Remus briefly, seeing the man staring at him with understanding eyes, no
judgement in their depths. Sirius glances away again.

"Besides," he continues, mostly babbling now, "even if I wanted to go home now, Lily would
never allow it. She's got me under her thumb constantly. Thinks I can't even brush my teeth
without supervision, or I might fall into the toilet and drown. James keeps telling her she's
ridiculous and trying to get me use my leg as a limbo rod, the prat."

Remus huffs in amusement. "Sounds like good friends," he murmurs. "Good family. You got
lucky."

"Yeah," mumbles Sirius, mood turning dark as he glances away. His thoughts drift to his own
family, the horrors he'd experienced with them, all the struggles and abuse. He thinks about the all-
consuming depression that had nearly pulled him under the waves and drowned him, James and his
family the only things that had truly saved him and kept him afloat. He thinks about the
devastation of growing up within the walls of the Black house, the side-eyed glances throughout
his life of holding the Black name. He thinks about all of it before he can pull himself out, looking
back up at Remus, everything suddenly cast in shades of grey. He blinks.

Remus is watching him with knowing eyes, his mouth pulled down into an empathetic frown.
"Sometimes," he says softly, "luck isn't really luck at all, though, is it? Sometimes luck is a hard-
won thing."
His smile returns, slow and blossoming across his face like a tulip opening at the first signs of the
sun. Sirius blinks again, and then the grey is fading, the colors of the world springing back into his
vision, honeyed brown at the center of it all. The tightness in Sirius' chest eases away as he smiles,
too.

Sirius clears his throat. "Regardless," he says, trying to move past the awkward subject, "no kids,
no partner. Single and alone in a too large bed on most occasions."

Remus' gaze drifts over him for a long, silent moment, but then he's standing suddenly, brushing at
the knees of his jeans though there's nothing presently on them. "Pity," he comments lightly.
"Seems like plenty of people would enjoy spending time with you."

He bends down, gripping Sirius' right arm in a firm hand and pulling him up at an angle, making
certain that Sirius is able to keep his leg stretched out and straight. Christ, he's strong, thinks Sirius
to himself, a little dizzy at the sudden position change. He glances over Remus' lank form in
surprise. No one would ever suspect by looking at him.

"On to round two?" questions Remus in a pleasant tone of voice. Sirius simply nods as he's led
around the Playroom.

When they finish for the day, two hours after Sirius had arrived, he's sore, but in a comforting,
familiar way. He feels like he does after a good, long run, or playing a full match in the bright sun,
exhausted and aching in a glorious, energetic way. Remus guides him back to his office so that
Sirius can gather his discarded things. That chat a bit more once there before Sirius begins to depart
through the door Remus is holding open for him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sirius," he says with a bright smile. Sirius has just passed the threshold
when Remus stops him. "Oh, and Sirius. Be sure to wear trunks tomorrow. You'll want those."

Sirius cocks one eyebrow up, tilting his head questioningly. Remus smiles cryptically at him,
waving one teasing, tantalizing hand as Sirius slowly hobbles away.

--------------------

"He wants you to bring trunks?" says James that night, laughter on his tongue. He and Sirius are in
the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner while Lily bathes Harry upstairs. Well, James is tidying. Sirius
is sitting at the table, utterly useless. "He got a hot tub you don't know about or something?"

"Dunno," mumbles Sirius, perplexed. "Odd, innit?"

"A bit, yeah," answers James as he rinses some dishes in the basin. "He is the genius, though, or so
that's what Lily keeps saying, so I suppose he knows what he's doing."

"I actually think he does, Prongs. I'm a little mystified, if I'm honest," says Sirius, eyes fixed on the
opposite wall, gaze distant and thoughtful. "I had low expectations after Lockhart, but Lockhart is
a fool. That was always clear with the half-arse, mangled jobs he did, but now it's just exacerbated.
Remus is in a whole other league, mate."

James hums as he finishes sorting out the clean dishes. "Happy you like him, Pads. S'good, you
know, that you believe he can help you. That's half the battle from my understanding."

"Trust him," mumbles Sirius without thinking. He blinks when James is silent, looking over at him
to see his friend staring at him with a furrowed brow. "It's something he said, that I had to trust him
for it to work."
"Do you?" asks James in intrigue. "Trust him."

Sirius looks down at his braced leg, stretched out in front of him, propped up on another chair. He
remembers Remus' sure hands on him, while he was taking measurements, while they were
working together that afternoon. He smiles a little.

"I do, yeah," he says. "He's confident, you know. Doesn't second guess himself constantly, which
is incredibly annoying and off-putting to me when people do that. But he never boasts about
himself, either. He's kind and easy to talk to. He's actually interesting, believe it or not. Got good
music tastes. I've already found a new band he told me about."

James shuffles over to him, sitting in the chair next to Sirius that isn't supporting his injured leg.
He's got a towel slung over one shoulder, looking very domestic. Sirius smirks at the image, but it
fades when he sees the way James is staring at him, his eyes narrowed a bit, like he sees something
Sirius doesn't.

"What?"

James leans back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You like him," he states.

"'Course I do," agrees Sirius, his eyebrows knitting together at James' expression and tone. "That's
what I just finished saying."

James shakes his head, looking faintly smug. "That's not it," he denies. "You like him. Like, want
to get into his pants like him."

Sirius' mouth drops open. "You're mental," he mutters.

"Don't think so," retorts James with a smirk. "Lily keeps saying he's a good-looking bloke. I'd be
jealous and a bit worried if I didn't know she loved me so much. She said as much, too, you know?
She thinks you're attracted to him."

"Lily should keep her gob shut," grumbles Sirius, looking away from his friend. James continues
staring at him and Sirius fidgets a bit under the scrutiny before he finally huffs out a breath of air.
"All right, fine. He's sexy as fuck, I'll admit it. Can't help myself. Doesn't mean I'm going to do
anything about it."

"Hope not," says James easily. "That's a slippery slope, mate. Remember what's happening with
Gideon. Pretty sure we haven't seen the end of that. He's your physio god. He's the one that's going
to get you back to where you need to be. And even after he does, things can't really change,
because you don't know what's around the next corner. You may very well need him again in the
future. You've already said you trust him. Don't risk fucking it up."

"I know, James, for fuck's sake," snaps Sirius. "It's just sex. I can get that anywhere. Just need to
find a good shag to get him out of my system."

James leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he stares at Sirius from behind his glasses
with intense hazel eyes. "See, though, I don't think that's it, Pads. I think there's more to it than
that," he insists, and Sirius resists the urge to squirm. "I think it's about more than just the fact that
he's attractive or the sex of it all. I think you like him. His personality, him as a person. I think
you're catching feelings, Sirius. I can see it on your face."

"Now you really have gone round the twist, mate," scoffs Sirius. "You're mad. I just met him,
James. Today was only the second time I've seen him. And I don't catch feelings, remember? Never
have. I seem to recall you and a certain red head digging that one in deep. Very disapproving with
all your love and shite."

James shrugs one shoulder at Sirius' words. "There's always that one, Padfoot," he says gently. "I
didn't have feelings for anyone other than Lily before I met her, or even after."

"You met her when you were eleven, mate," grouses Sirius. "Not like anyone expected much
before that."

"Yeah, but there were plenty of opportunities after that, between all the hate and then love. But it
never happened. Barely even looked at anyone else other than mild curiosity."

"You and Evans are different, James," says Sirius, deflating a bit but still on edge. "Special. I've
told you that since she started coming round. Just because I've never had feelings or anything more
than a casual relationship with someone doesn't mean it'll only ever happen with just one person
when it finally does, or that the pivotal person in this scenario will be Remus Lupin."

James continues to stare at him like he can see right through to his soul. Which, of course, he
basically can. Sirius and James are linked in that way, always able to see what the other doesn't
want seen, able to have wordless conversations, almost always knowing what the other is thinking
before they've even finished the thought in their own heads. Sirius has always liked it, been fond of
that deep connection, something he'd never had with anyone before he met James, not even his
own brother. Yet, sometimes, like now, for instance, when Sirius is trying to lie to himself as much
as he is to James, it's a hindrance more than it is helpful.

"Maybe not," murmurs James. "Regardless of whether you want to admit it or not, Sirius, it's there.
All I'm saying is tame it before it rages out of control. I want you happy, mate, I do, but I don't
know that this is the way."

Sirius stares back at his friend, a deep frown set in his face. James is just being absurd. For once
since they've known each other, he's not seeing what he thinks he is, Sirius is sure about that. Yes,
he's attracted to Remus. Who wouldn't be? He's a good-looking man, strong, self-assured in his
abilities, seems to know exactly who he is and what he likes. It's a difficult combination to not find
attractive and leave any sane person wanting. Yet, none of that means Sirius' desires go any further
than physical. He's a nice bloke, has a good sense of humor, easy to talk to about everyday things.
Sirius could see them maybe coming out of this whole thing as friends, kind of the way Sirius had
found a friend in Kingsley through need and repeated visits. There isn't any of that which points to
Sirius doing something as ridiculous as falling for the man.

"Doesn't matter," attests Sirius finally, shifting slightly in his chair. "Never going to happen."

James doesn't look entirely convinced, but after another long moment of simply staring at Sirius, he
eventually stands and returns to the sink basin, leaving Sirius alone to brood on his own.

--------------------

"Got your trunks?" asks Remus in greeting the following day as Sirius steps into his office, alone
this time, not accompanied by Rosmerta. Sirius pats his hip in answer where his trunks are hidden
beneath his joggers, still uncertain of what they're meant to be doing. "Great! Let's go."

Sirius watches as Remus grabs his jacket and keys from behind his desk, before walking in Sirius'
direction. Sirius gapes.

"We're leaving? Where?"

Remus stops in front of him, providing him with an obvious sort of look. "To the car," he says
simply. "How do you get to places you need to go?"

Sirius scowls at him and Remus grins, looking proud of himself. Git.

"Where are we going?" tries Sirius in a different way. "I thought we'd be doing everything here.
Isn't that how this sort of stuff typically works?"

Remus' face shifts, critiquing Sirius silently for a long while before he breathes in a sudden burst of
air. "There is nothing typical about my line of work. Every injury is different, just as every body,
muscle, and bone is different. Things change, they're constantly altering. You adapt or you die.
Isn't that essentially the way of humanity itself?" A smirk settles on his face as he leans around
Sirius, opening the door. "Adapt, Sirius. We'll be doing this often."

Sirius huffs a frustrated sigh but hobbles out the door, a grinning Remus following behind him.
Remus bids Rosmerta farewell, informing her that they would return in a few hours and to call him
on his mobile is anything is needed. Rosmerta nods in understanding, providing her own cryptic,
knowing sort of smile to Sirius as he passes by. Does everyone know where they're going but him?

Remus leads them to his car, a vehicle that looks to be at least ten years old, much to Sirius'
surprise, though in Remus' defense, he looks to have kept it up well. He opens the passenger side
door for Sirius, relieving him of his crutches and stowing them in the back as Sirius settles himself.
Remus clambers into the car soon after, fastening his safety belt securely before pulling out his
phone and setting it up to the car. Sirius gapes when he sees he's using a bloody auxiliary cord. The
car doesn't even have Bluetooth. Sirius stares at Remus as he scrolls through his phone, searching
for something specific, marveling silently at the man beside him.

"You're an enigma, you know that?" states Sirius bluntly.

Remus chuckles faintly, still staring at his phone screen. "Am I?" he asks in amusement, eyes
darting to Sirius and back again quickly. "Why's that?"

Sirius shakes his head. "You just never cease to amaze me," he responds honestly. "Every time I
think I've got you figured out, you've got my head twisting round again." Remus looks at him
properly, forgetting about his phone in the moment. He's staring at Sirius oddly, like he's also
trying to figure something out. Sirius thinks he's maybe waiting for elaboration, so he continues.
"Like your car. No judgements, you know, but I was expecting something…else."

The look fades from Remus' eyes as he glances around the interior of the car. "Why do I need a
fancy, expensive car? This one gets me where I need to go just fine. Why waste the money when it
isn't necessary?"

"Yeah, but see, that's the thing that's so peculiar to me," insists Sirius. "Most people in your
position would be flaunting what they have, driving the fancy, expensive car, boasting about their
achievements, dressing in flashy corporate clothes to make themselves look above it all. But not
you. You don't do those things."

Remus frowns slightly. "I'm not most people," he says simply.

Sirius exhales a breath, relaxing back into his seat. "No, you're most certainly not," he agrees.

Remus stares at him for another few passing seconds before turning to his phone, that same slow-
growing smile spreading back over his face. He scrolls a little longer before apparently finally
locating what he's been looking for.

"Aha!" he cries triumphantly. He jabs his finger at the screen and Under Pressure begins playing at
a low volume over the car speakers. Sirius nods appreciatively as Remus turns a somewhat
sheepish grin on him. "It's my favorite. Either this one or Somebody to Love. I go back and forth."
Remus angles himself forward, throwing the car into gear, and then they're soaring easily from the
car park. "Yours?"

Sirius smirks, knowing Remus can see it from the corner of his eye. "Don't Stop Me Now," he
answers proudly.

Remus rolls his eyes and huffs in amusement. "'Course it is," he mutters. "Should have figured as
much. Let me guess, Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy is in the running for second, am I right?"

"No. You're My Best Friend."

Remus' head jerks to look in his direction, his expression surprised. It seems to take him a few
seconds to realize what he's doing, hurriedly turning his attention back to the road ahead. He looks
a little flustered, Sirius thinks, watching him as his hands tighten slightly on the leather wrapped
wheel.

"That's…not what I expected at all, I won't lie," mumbles Remus, seeming a little off balance for
no reason. Sirius thinks he maybe likes flustering Remus Lupin. There's a darkening streak of red
flush spreading over his cheeks, something that hadn't been there before. Sirius smiles. "Suppose
that's what I get for making assumptions."

"S'pose so, yeah," replies Sirius, thoroughly humored by throwing Remus so off course. "Don't
assume to know everything about me so soon. It's only day three, Lupin."

Remus chuckles, his hands relaxing, the color retreating, his eyes brightening. "My mistake. Won't
happen again."

Sirius finds himself wondering how much Remus actually does know about him as they chatter
amicably, continuing their drive through the city, the music carrying on faintly, playing some
songs and bands Sirius knows, others that he doesn't. Sirius has tried to keep a relatively low profile
since joining the Association, holding his personal life under wraps as best as he can manage, but
things always leak, like the horror about his family.

It's one of the reasons he's always chosen to never really date, worried about if he were to find
someone he truly liked enough to keep around, how the rags in the city would demolish it. The
press even went after James and Lily at one point after Harry was born, splattering false gossip that
the boy was actually Sirius' with his best mate's wife, speculating about their sordid love affair and
false DNA tests that had never happened. It had been a nightmare to sort out and move on from, his
friends understanding, of course, though Sirius' guilt had swelled and spiraled. He'd stayed at his
own flat for weeks afterwards, trying to create distance until James had forcibly dragged him back
to theirs.

Sirius turns his gaze out his window, pushing the memories away as a new song starts and Remus
falls silent, turning the volume up a little more. Sirius hasn't heard this one before, but he finds that
he likes it. He relaxes back into his seat a bit more, enjoying the lead's voice and the beat that
thrums through the car, vibrating up Sirius' spine. It's a good song, he thinks as the lyrics spread
through his ears, but maybe a little depressing.

Remus seems to be in his element with this one, fingers drumming against the wheel as he
mumbles along, his low voice harmonious and soothing. Sirius glances over to the phone screen,
trying to see details about the song, but it's too far away, only being about to make out the word
eyes within the title. He shrugs after a couple seconds of trying and leans back into his seat again,
content to simply listen and sort out the words and feelings spreading through the lyrics and riffs.

It takes nearly half an hour to arrive at their destination, Sirius excited as they pull into a car park,
anxious to see where they're meant to be going. He wilts a bit when Remus parks in front of a
nondescript building, outer walls painted a greyish-white color with blue stripes along the top and
bottom. He glances at Remus doubtfully, the other man laughing faintly.

"C'mon, Sirius," he says as he shuts off the car and climbs out, circling to grab Sirius' crutches
from the back before helping Sirius out as well. "It's better on the inside, I promise."

Sirius hobbles along beside Remus into the building. He still can't figure out where they are, but
the man behind the desk greets Remus jovially and prattles away as Remus signs them in. Clearly
Remus comes here often, judging by the conversation passing between him and the other man.

When they're finished, Remus leads Sirius down a long corridor. It smells odd in the space they're
occupying now. It takes him a while to place it, but when it registers, he suddenly knows exactly
where they are as Remus opens a glass door near the end of the hallway.

"You brought me to the bloody pool," says Sirius, laughter on his tongue as he steps inside, the
smell of chlorine too strong to ignore now. He stares over the concrete floor and tiled walls, the
light from the windows bouncing off the steady water, making the tiles glitter like jewels.

Remus grins at him before his eyes shift around the room for a moment, finally settling back on
Sirius. "If you've heard absolutely anything about me, it's that I'm considered unconventional," he
admits, a pleased expression on his face, like he enjoys the idea. "That's because of this. I do things
like this a lot with the people who seek my help. I find things like water therapy, as well as other
means, are very beneficial to the healing process. Most others in my field are set in their ways,
sticking to the compulsory methods, similar to what we did yesterday. Those have their own
powers of healing, too, don't get me wrong, but I've found that bodies tend to repair themselves
much faster when introduced to different forms of stimuli. My colleagues tend to frown at my
methods, calling me unconventional, even radical, but I get results far faster than they do, and I'm
recommended far more often as well."

"If you're still trying to convince me of your merits, you can stop. I already told you I trust you.
Besides," says Sirius, an excited grin spreading across his face as his eyes shift over the pool, "I
love water. Should have been a dog. Or a dolphin."

Remus laughs, clapping a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "I'm happy you're not," he attests. "That would
be a waste."

He slips away from Sirius then, his hand falling from his shoulder, and Sirius finds himself missing
the overwhelming heat. He shakes the thoughts from his head, but stops suddenly, his mouth
dropping open as Remus stands beside him and begins to strip. Well, fuck.

Sirius watches, eyes fixed and mesmerized, as Remus unrolls the sleeves of his flannel button up
before removing it from his arms, quickly following the motion by gripping the hem of his tee shirt
and yanking it over his head in one swift movement. Then his fingers are making fast work of the
button and zipper of his jeans as he kicks his shoes off without much regard. As Remus works the
trousers off his hips, bending to guide them over his legs and off his ankles before stripping his
socks as well, Sirius stares.

The pale skin glows in the light streaming through the high windows, the muscles Sirius had
already expected to be present straining and shifting under his flesh in a delicious way as Remus
moves. His freckles extend beyond his face, Sirius is pleased to see, splattered across his back and
shoulders, as though he'd received too many sunburns in the past, the harsh rays leaving their
permanent marks. When Remus removes his jeans, Sirius can see that the veins in his lower legs
bulge just like the ones in his forearms, trailing like thin snakes under his skin, disappearing
beneath the edges of his trunks.

As Remus shifts to look back at him, Sirius quickly closes his mouth, schooling his face into
something more neutral. He realizes belatedly that he's stopped breathing, and he sucks in a breath
of air, hoping it isn't too noticeable. Remus steps in front of him, looking for all the world like a
lanky Greek god. Sirius swallows roughly.

"We'll keep the crutches until we've got your shoes and trousers off," informs Remus, his eyes
sweeping over Sirius' face. Can he tell? Can he see the desire written into the plains of Sirius' skin?
But then Remus is crouching down, tapping at Sirius' foot, encouraging him to lift it so Remus can
work the trainer off.

Sirius watches Remus' long fingers as he unties the laces, moving like delicate spiders over his
foot. He can't look away, which is a problem, the muscles in Remus' shoulders and legs standing
out in sharp relief in his knelt position. The joggers are next, Sirius knows, which means he only
has a brief window to get control of himself. He lifts his gaze to the shimmering water, trying to
recall the lyrics to Under Pressure, but that just makes him think about Remus more, along with his
current situation. He tries to think of another song. His mind is blank. Fuck.

"I usually wear boots, you know," he attempts desperately, though he's surprised when his voice
emerges relatively normal, only slightly higher pitched than usual. Remus glances up at him as he
sets Sirius' trainers to the side and begins working Sirius' brace off, the corners of his mouth
twitching up. "Doc's, typically. Only wear trainers for runs."

Remus laughs, the sound echoing around them, his smile blossoming wide again as he shakes his
head. "Should've known," he murmurs as his hands lift to Sirius' waist, latching around the band of
his joggers and tugging them down without hesitation. Sirius locks down on his internal thoughts.
"Fits into the image."

"My eighties rocker image, you mean?"

Remus hums thoughtfully, glancing back up at Sirius as he slips the joggers over his shifting feet.
"I'm thinking now it's more of the put-upon archetypal bad boy image than anything else," he
concurs with a smirk. "Not sure I'm buying it just yet."

"You're saying I'm not intimidating?" demands Sirius, fighting back amusement at Remus' obvious
teasing.

Remus stands, his eyes sweeping over Sirius from head to toe and back up again before he
responds. "I'm saying you're like a puppy trying to act like a wolf," he says, a hint of something in
his brown eyes that Sirius can't readily identify. "It's cute, endearing even, but I'm not entirely
falling for it."

"Oi," protests Sirius a bit weakly, his stomach fluttering again at the other man's words. It's the
second time he's referred to Sirius as cute, something he's not certain how to take. Cute is
something used to refer to a child's drawing or chocolate smeared face. Cute refers to an actual
puppy, not a full-grown man who's having trouble controlling himself in his current situation. "I
am not cute. I am dangerous, Lupin. Dangerous and feisty. Handsome, sexy, devastatingly good in
bed, but not cute."

Remus cocks an eyebrow, like he's challenging Sirius to something he can't put his finger on, the
man's smirk fading a little, shifting into a more muted version of itself, something smug and
gratifying. Sirius feels something building in that look, but he's not sure what it is or how to reach
out and grab it, hold it in his hands and not let go. Remus' eyes flicker over him once more, like he's
evaluating again, but then his face shifts, changes back to its normal open politeness as his fingers
wrap around Sirius' crutches.

"If you say so, Sirius," he relents, removing the crutches from under Sirius' arms, stowing them in
one hand while the other presses against Sirius' hip to support his balance. Sirius almost chokes at
the sudden contact. "Shirt off, if you please. We've got swimming to attend to."

Sirius frowns, but he acquiesces, reaching over his head to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it up
and off his torso and arms, depositing it on the floor in a crumpled pile. He watches Remus as his
long hair settles back into place, waiting to see if the man's eyes drift again, but they remain fixed
on Sirius' face, watching the black strands of hair flutter with static.

Sirius grunts in mild irritation, yanking a black band off his wrist and gathering his hair into a knot
on top of his head. Remus watches his movements, eyes slightly narrowed, studious.

"You're good at that," he observes as Sirius tightens the knot.

"Have to be. I have to tie it up for every practice and match. Gets in the way if I don't. Also, Harry
was really big into hair pulling for about a year, so it was safer this way."

"Why not just cut it? Surely that would be easier," says Remus, his brows knitting together in
bemusement.

Sirius shrugs. "I like it."

Remus' smile returns, full blast and blinding. "Good," he states. "It suits you." Then, before Sirius
can process any of it, he's handing one of the crutches back and leaning the other against the wall.
"To the pool we go."

He grips Sirius' elbow and leads him to the edge, removing the crutch from under his arm and
helping Sirius lower himself to the floor. His legs dangle over the edge, feet and ankles dipping
into the cool water. It feels good. It's been a long time since Sirius has had an opportunity to swim.

"My mate James and I used to swim a lot," says Sirius as he watches the water lap around his skin
while Remus seats himself beside Sirius. "The school we went to was up north. It had this massive
lake on the grounds. During the warmer months, we'd always sneak out there and splash around,
try to drown one another. The professors hated it, and us. We were the banes of their existences.
They were always chasing us out. Rumor was there was a giant squid in the depths, and evil
Merpeople. I don't think that's the reason they didn't want students in the lake, but I suppose I'll
never really know."

Remus laughs as he dips his own feet into the water. "I'm beginning to paint a fairly accurate
picture of you and this James bloke," he mumbles through his amusement. "Bribing toddlers, legs
as limbo rods, secret lake hijinks. Detentions all the time, am I right? Kept you from going out on
the weekends and exploring, causing more chaos. Probably by design from your teachers, I'm
sure."

Sirius grins. "Dead on there, Remus," he admits. "We were horrible terrors. Loved pranks,
anything that caused havoc and anarchy. Got by with it most times, but not always. Only stopped
once James got with Lily and it started interfering with football for me, after it looked like it was
actually going to take me somewhere. Guess we grew up. And the teachers acted like they hated
us, but I think they secretly loved us while we were there. We gave them excitement."

"Is that what you and your mates call near heart attacks? Excitement?" questions Remus as he
suddenly pushes off from the edge and launches himself into the water. He disappears beneath the
surface for a few seconds, nothing but a wavy blur in the depths, before reemerging, pushing his
wet hair out of his face. "What about this? Exciting enough? Are you having heart palpitations?"

Sirius laughs, ignoring the fact that yes, his heart actually is faltering a little, Remus pale, defined
chest wet and dripping below him. Remus grins up at him.

"All right, let's get you in," says Remus, beginning to instruct. "Just jump in. I'll catch your weight,
and the water will help with that, but try to connect to the bottom with your uninjured leg."

Sirius nods in understanding, and once Remus' hands lift in an encouraging motion, Sirius pushes
himself from the concrete edge. He angles his body as he goes, leaning more toward his right side,
trying to not bend his left knee in the process, bracing himself for the slight impact. Yet, before
he's halfway in the water, Remus' warm hands are clutching around his waist, directly above the
line of his trunks, catching the weight the water doesn't absorb. Sirius almost floats the rest of the
way down, his right foot settling on the tile at the base of the pool with easy grace.

Remus' hands stay in place until he's certain Sirius is stable and supporting his own weight, then
they're slipping away, a slow slide along his skin. Sirius blinks like an idiot.

"All right, so here's the thing," says Remus, apparently oblivious to Sirius' struggling brain, "you're
not actually going to swim, not yet. We'll do that later. The goal of today is just to try to get your
knee to bend a bit more, strengthen up the muscles and work your ligament to start healing in the
proper way. The water puts pressure around the body that you don't really feel until you step out,
creates a feeling of less resistance, which helps with the pain and discomfort. All I want you to do
is try to stay afloat, kicking your legs and bending your knee just enough to manage that, but I'll be
here if you struggle."

"So, in other words," mumbles Sirius with a nervous chuckle that he curses himself for, knowing
it's not because of the fear of sinking beneath the surface, "you're not going to let me drown."

"Essentially, yes," replies Remus as he guides Sirius to a deeper section of the pool. "Though I'm
not above dunking heads if a mouth gets too snarky." He flashes Sirius a grin that sends Sirius'
stomach twisting along with the water.

"Good of you to warn me," comments Sirius, his chin skimming the water's edge now. "That's all I
am, according to Lily."

"Thought so," admits Remus with a laugh. "You get that look in your eyes a lot when I'm talking,
like you're biting it back. Don't do that, by the way. Makes things more fun."

"Fun, eh?" says Sirius, grinning above the water, some of it slipping around his lips and through
his teeth. "I can manage all sorts of fun things if that's what you're after."

Remus hums, his eyes trailing over Sirius' face again with a different sort of intent. "I'm certain you
can, Sirius," he murmurs.

Sirius blinks again, frowning. What did that mean? Is Remus flirting? Of course that's what Sirius
is doing, but that's nothing new for him. Flirting salaciously with any and all is all he has, other
than humor and sarcastic remarks. Yet, before Sirius can investigate further, Remus is looking
away, his mask of pleasantness back in place again.
He releases one of his hands from Sirius' right arm while keeping a firm grip on his left. Sirius
would just like it stated how incredibly unfair he finds it that his entire mouth is nearly beneath the
water while it's barely hitting the base of Remus' neck. Tall, cheeky bastard.

Remus instructs him to move his legs, to try to keep his head above the water, and Sirius does as
he's told, Remus maneuvering him deeper into the water so his feet won't kick at the tiles as easily.
He does well, no pain or discomfort to speak of, using his arms as well to keep himself from
sinking. Remus eventually releases his grip, but he hovers close, watching Sirius with a guarding,
practiced eye. A few times, he dips below the surface, observing the way Sirius' knee is bending
and moving, nodding with satisfaction when he reemerges.

Eventually, when Sirius begins to tire, having exerted almost no physical energy in the past week
and a half, Remus tells him to stop and guides him back to the midsection of the pool where the
water is more shallow. He instructs Sirius to float on his back, Remus' hands coming up beneath
him as Sirius angles his body backwards and lets the water and Remus keep him afloat. Remus
keeps one hand under him, pressed against his skin, just for reassurance, his other moving to Sirius'
shin and pushing down with faint pressure, telling Sirius wordlessly to bend his knee.

They work this way for a while, Remus keeping Sirius in place, not floating away with the press of
his hand on his back. Remus seems pleased by the way Sirius' knee is moving, humming to himself
happily every time it bends a little further without causing Sirius any pain.

Once Remus declares that they've done enough for the day, he helps Sirius work his way back to
the side of the pool, releasing him when Sirius' hand grabs onto the edge. Sirius shifts, pressing his
back to the wall, elbows raising over the edges on the concrete to hold himself up and in place as
he allows his legs to float up into a mock sitting position. Remus mirrors his movements, but
instead of floating, he latches his hands around the edge of the pool and pushes himself up and out,
legs dangling over the side, feet still submerged in the water. Sirius closes his eyes and enjoys the
weightless feeling for a few more moments.

Remus watches Sirius for a while, Sirius feeling his eyes on him even through his closed eyelids.
He finally reopens them to look up at Remus, seeing him turning his head to glance at the clock on
the wall, a small smile pulling at his lips. When he looks back at Sirius, the smile grows, morphing
into his more patented pleasant expression, the former softness leaving its edges.

"We've still got a bit of time if you want to stay a little longer," he offers. "You look as though
you're enjoying it here."

Sirius' smile is wistful as he gazes out over the still rippling surface of the pool. "Haven't been in
the water like this for long time," he murmurs. "It's mostly showers and ice baths for me now." His
eyes shift back up to Remus curiously. "Do those actually work?"

Remus' mouth twists in an indecisive way. "Sometimes, mostly extreme cases. I don't use them
much if that tells you anything. I see them more as harsh and cruel to the body and the person,
honestly. Heat's better. Combination of that and ice packs to sore muscles is really all anyone ever
needs. More than that is mostly just torture."

"Knew it," mutters Sirius darkly. "Lockhart, that fucking arsemonger."

"Lockhart?" questions Remus, one eyebrow raising.

"Team's resident physio twit. Completely useless."

"Sounds like you need a new therapist."

"Interested? It's a cushy gig. Nice people. You know, like me."

Remus laughs heartily. "Think I'm good, thanks," he replies. "I'm happy where I'm at. I don't see
me leaving it all behind anytime soon, no matter how swaying the idea of spending more time with
you is, Sirius."

"Really?" asks Sirius, unable to hide his surprise.

"Of course. Did you think I was just being kind because it's part of my job?"

Sirius shrugs as best he can in his current position, wiggling his toes in the water. "Did cross my
mind, yeah," he says. "Couldn't help but wonder."

Remus lifts his legs from the water, stretching them straight in front of him, his hands braced as he
lifts himself into the air, hovering for a handful of seconds. The veins in his arms stand out boldly
and Sirius has to look away for moment.

"For about the first ten minutes, that's exactly what I was doing," explains Remus, a true smile
lighting up his face as he lowers himself back down and looks at Sirius. "But then I got your
trousers off and you really just…opened up." His smirk is fierce and wicked as it spreads.

Sirius laughs. "Fuck off," he chuckles out.

"I like you, Sirius," says Remus firmly, his expression shifting to something more focused, more
intent. "You're a good person, I can tell. You're funny and witty. You take an interest in people. I
like you, more than just as an appointment in my books."

"I like you, too, Remus," returns Sirius, and Remus showcases his new smile.

They fall into silence after that, both enjoying the water lapping around them. Sirius stretches his
body out, letting his legs drift near the surface, his back elongating. It feels good, relaxing.

"You're not like most people either, you know," says Remus quietly, his low voice echoing off the
tiled walls surrounding the pool. Sirius stills his movements, glancing up at the other man. "You
drive a motorbike; you don't even own a car. And guessing based on what I know of you, I doubt
it's brand new or top of the line. You're uncomfortable when people make over you or praise your
talent, though you are remarkably talented; you have to be to do what you do. You dress like any
other working-class bloke on the street, so clearly you're not spending thousands of pounds on
clothing like most athletes in your position. And you own a flat that you don't even truly live in,
choosing instead to stay with friends – family – simply because you miss them, love them, and
want to spend as much time as possible with them. You're not most people, Sirius. You're an
enigma, too."

Silence settles again, heavier this time, Sirius not sure how to accept the other man's words as he
pulls his body back up against the pool wall. He feels mildly uncomfortable and awkward from the
praise, but also like he was warming from the inside out. Remus eventually begins to hum under
his breath, just a soft, soothing sound. Then he starts mumbling lyrics to the tune on his tongue,
and it sounds mildly familiar to Sirius.

"I'll be the lamplight…I'll be the first in line…kick out the waste of losers and fakers," he murmurs
softly, Sirius watching his mouth as it works over the words that are stirring something in his head.
"I'll be the one to see through the blackest hours…"

Something finally connects in Sirius' head and he realizes why the song is so familiar. "I looked up
Longwave," he informs Remus. "Listened to their stuff most of the weekend, actually. About drove
 James and Lily round the bend. Harry enjoyed it, though."

Remus looks up in faint surprise. Sirius wonders if he'd even realized he was singing. Not that
Sirius minded either way. He had a nice voice.

"Did you?" asks Remus, the smile pulling back into place. "What did you think?"

"They're good, yeah. Interesting sound. Great voice on the lead," responds Sirius, kicking his
uninjured leg out a little, causing the water to splash around him. "Only made it through their first
album so far. I like Tidal Wave."

Remus nods in agreement, still looking mildly amazed that Sirius had taken an interest. "It's a good
song, but that's actually from their second album. Difficult to find the first. Too old, I suppose.
Doesn't really matter. They're second album was their best, though their newest one is a close
second. I was happy when I saw they were trying to come back. They faded out for a decent length
of time."

"Shame," mumbles Sirius. "They've got talent. Good lyrics. I think that's what I like the most. Got
any favorites? Songs, I mean, of theirs."

"Hmm? Oh, I dunno. It changes pretty regularly," answers Remus vaguely, eyes distant as they
stare into the water. "Though, I suppose, until very recently, for the past several years it's been I'll
Be the First. One of their newer ones."

"Yeah, I know that one," says Sirius excitedly. "It's one of the first I listened to before I decided to
go through album by album. It's a good one. That's the one you were singing, right?"

Remus looks up at him, blinking like he's trying to regain his bearings. "Sorry, didn't realize I was
singing," he says quietly, the water nearly swallowing his soft voice. "It's not really something I do
unless I'm alone, or with someone I've known for years. But yes, that's the one I was singing. It's
been stuck in my head for several days now."

"Nothing to be sorry for, mate. It was nice." Sirius pauses when he sees faint pink flush over
Remus' chest and neck. He grins, but then something Remus had said registers with him. "You said
until recently. So it's different now. What's your new favorite?"

Remus' eyes shift over him for a moment, considering. Then he's smiling, wide and bright. "Let's
see if you can figure it out," he says cheerily. Sirius gapes at him, but Remus is laughing as he
stands, the water dripping down his legs. "We should go. It'll take a while to get back and I've got
someone else coming in after you."

After Sirius returns home that afternoon, he bundles up in a jumper and his leather jacket and
ventures out to the back garden so he doesn't disturb the rest of the family. He listens to another
full album, picking apart the lyrics of each song, comparing them to what he knows of Remus,
comparing them to what he knows had been the man's favorite song, trying to figure out which was
his new favorite, and even possibly what may have caused the sudden shift.

Chapter End Notes

Find me on Tumblr! Plenty of random things, but some sneak peeks at new chapters
along with a few other story tidbits thrown in, too. I'm also always up for a nice chat if
you're interested.
 Late Nights, Bad Flirting, & Abrupt Endings

Sirius is Remus' last appointment on Thursdays and Fridays. On Thursday, they return to the pool.
Remus informs Sirius that it'll be a twice a week thing for the foreseeable future, something Sirius
doesn't have much problem with, finding he likes watching Remus skim through the water around
him.

When they return that evening, James is already in front of the office waiting to take Sirius home.
Sirius hobbles over to the car, handing James his crutches as he hops on one foot to climb inside
the vehicle, Remus providing a small wave as he walks past them. James watches the man enter the
building, a critiquing hum leaving his throat once he's gone.

"Yeah, all right," he mutters. "He's sexy as fuck, you're right." Sirius scoffs in reply and rolls his
eyes as James laughs, stowing his crutches in the backseat.

The following night finds Sirius slouched on the sofa in Remus' office, ice pack held firm against
his throbbing knee. It had already been hurting when he'd arrived that afternoon from the exertion
of the week. Yet, it's a good ache, like running for hours without stopping; a healing ache, or so
Remus keeps insisting.

Remus is sitting in the armchair to his right, body bent forward, arms draping over his thighs. He's
watching Sirius with concerned eyes, studying his face, waiting for any pain to show through.

"Helping?" he asks, head nodding toward the ice pack clutched in Sirius' hand.

Sirius removes the pack and flexes his muscles a little, something he hadn't been able to do a week
previous. "A bit, yeah," he replies, feeling the pinpricks of sensation return to his numbed skin.
"It'll be fine."

Remus studies him for another silent moment before standing and walking to his desk. He
rummages through one of the drawers for a time before removing something and making his way
back over to Sirius. He sits on Sirius' left this time, beside him on the sofa, holding a wide, white
strip of plasticky cloth in his fingers.

"Medicated patch," explains Remus, peeling back the plastic guarding. "It should help." He holds it
up in front of Sirius, asking for permission. Sirius nods and then watches as Remus bends over him,
moving the bottom line of his shorts out of his way, fingers nimble and delicate as they place the
patch over Sirius' skin and then smooth across the cloth, fixing it down with tender care. Sirius
almost moans in relief as a burning coolness sears his flesh.

"Yeah, that's good," breathes Sirius, his eyes fluttering closed and head falling back against the
sofa cushions. "Fuck, that's nice."

His words are greeted by silence. Sirius reopens his eyes, lifting his head to see Remus staring up
at him, gaze narrowed and focused, intent on something. Sirius' stomach twists and he curses
himself for nearly falling into the brown depths of the other man's eyes. Remus' mouth moves to
speak, but he's stopped by a knock sounding on the office door. He straightens, turning to look just
as it swings open.

"I'm all finished for the night," announces Rosmerta as she steps inside the room, her eyes shifting
briefly between the two men. "Mr Crouch just left and Peter was right behind him. Mr Crouch was
the last one other than this drop of sugar sitting beside you." She winks flirtatiously at Sirius who
cocks one black eyebrow as he grins.

Remus laughs, his head turning to look between them. "Want a room, you two?" he asks in jest.

"Oh, wouldn't I just!" exclaims Rosmerta with a teasing smile.

Remus hums knowingly. "Doubt you're the only one," he mumbles with a smirk, causing Sirius to
roll his eyes, eliciting a laugh from the other two. "Thanks, 'Merta. You can go. I'll lock everything
up when I leave. Enjoy your weekend."

"You, too, luv," replies Rosmerta. She nods her head toward Sirius, still speaking to Remus. "Don't
monopolize this one too much. Leave some for the rest of us, will you?"

Rosmerta disappears, pulling the door closed behind her as she goes. Remus collapses back into the
corner of the sofa, chucking under his breath. "She's a tenacious flirt," he mutters in amusement.
"Doesn't have a shut off switch. She'll attack anything with legs."

Sirius shrugs. "So am I," he says, his grin wicked, causing Remus to laugh again. "I like her. She's
spunky."

"Yeah," agrees Remus with a caring smile, "she's a treat and a half."

"So, Mr Crouch? How did he manage to escape being called by his first name?" questions Sirius
slyly.

"Hmm? Oh, Mr Crouch," mumbles Remus, looking a little distant for a moment as though Sirius
has pulled him from a deep thought. "Mr Crouch is a man who likes the formalities very much.
Refused to let me call him Barty. I cringe every time he calls me Mr Lupin. If you're going to insist
on using my last name, just say Lupin. Why add the mister? He doesn't like me much. Don't think
he approves of how I dress."

Sirius arches an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the way you dress?"

"Exactly," returns Remus emphatically, pulling a generous laugh from Sirius. "I think he wishes I
dressed in more – what did you call it? – corporate attire. Not sure why it matters. He won't go
anywhere else, but he mainly deals with Peter under my advisement."

They fall into a comfortable silence, Remus pulling one of his legs up on the sofa, knee bent and
only a few centimeters from Sirius' thigh. His brown eyes have drifted to the steadily darkening
windows, gaze distant and thoughtful. Sirius watches him until it begins to feel awkward and he
shifts, testing his knee a bit. It feels better, a lot better, actually. He's beginning to think Remus is
secretly a wizard.

"I think you may be a wizard," he admits aloud, causing Remus' eyes to settle on him, the corners
of his mouth twitching upwards. "Got a wand hidden somewhere that I don't know about?"

"I wish," replies Remus, huffing a tired laugh. Sirius only now notices the lines of exhaustion
etched around his eyes. "If I did, all this would be so much easier. Simply tap and everyone's
healed, but where's the fun in that?"

"S'pose you're right," agrees Sirius. He inhales a breath and looks away from the other man. "I
should go. I'm sure you have things to do."

Remus' mouth twists a little in distaste. "Not really," he admits. "I typically stay on Fridays and
give all the equipment a deep clean in preparation for the next week, but I'm not entirely feeling up
to it tonight. I'll probably just go home and eat cold noodles leftover from last night; come back
tomorrow and do it."

"That's a bit depressing," murmurs Sirius before thinking. He winces at the bluntness of his words
and curses himself. "Shit, sorry. Wasn't judging. I'd be doing the same if I didn't have my friends.
You need a Lily in your life. She keeps me fed. She's the only reason I don't live solely on take
away and three-day-old pastries."

Remus huffs a laugh. "It's fine. And you're right," he responds, his eyes drifting back to the now
dark window, lights in the office coming on automatically around them. They're soft and warm,
like the rest of the room. "I need something."

Sirius doesn't know what to say to that, mainly because he understands it. James and Lily are
wonderful. They're his family, everything to him now. They mean more to him than any football
match or passing fling or materialistic item he could ever possess. Yet, though he's stubborn and
resistant to the idea when they bring it up, Sirius knows he doesn't always want them to be
everything. One day he'd like what they have with one another, someone to go home to that isn't a
constant reminder of what he doesn't have and never has.

Remus blinks after a long moment, eyes shifting to Sirius again, seeming to come back to himself.
"Are they waiting for you, James or Lily?" he asks. A small flash of disappointment flickers over
his expression as he speaks before it's gone, Sirius wondering if he'd imagined it.

"Dunno, actually," he says, only just remembering that he needs a ride from Remus' office. He
pulls his silenced phone from his jacket pocket, slung over the arm beside him. His gaze glances
over the screen as it lights up, frown pulling at his lips.

(16:47)

Prongsalicious: Ring me when you're able, mate.

"Everything all right?" queries Remus, leaning forward as Sirius presses the call icon next to
James' name.

"Don't know. Texted and told me to call," responds Sirius as he pushes the phone to his ear. James
answers almost immediately.

"Shit, Pads, I'm sorry," he rushes to say in frazzled greeting.

"Whoa, calm down, Prongs," says Sirius, eyes widening at the distress in his friend's voice.
"What's wrong?"

James huffs in irritation. "I'm stuck at work. Shipping crisis on the new Sleekeazy products," he
grumbles, sounding frantic and guilty. "I'm trying to see if I can skive off for a bit to grab you and
take you home, but I'm not sure if that'll be possible. Lily's still stuck at Mungo's for the mid-shift."

"James," interjects Sirius to his friend's increasingly panicked words, "chill the fuck out, please.
You're giving me anxiety. Where's Harry?"

"He's at the Weasley's. Arthur and Molly agreed to keep him for the night. Ron was thrilled, let me
tell you," says James, his voice fading out a bit as he leans away from the phone in his quest for
something. "Heard him squealing from the background. Molly threatened to lock him in the attic
with the ghoul, because apparently Fred and George have convinced him that's what lives up
there."
Sirius laughs. "And let me guess, Molly's having to battle to keep Harry from exploring it
himself?"

"You know it," confirms James with an amused chuckle. "He thinks that's why their pipes rattle,
'cause the ghoul is upset when the house is too quiet. Molly's about off her rocker with their
screaming to liven things up, trying to keep the thing happy." Sirius hears muffled chatter in the
background, James disappearing from the line for a second as he mumbles something back in
reply. When he returns, his voice is no longer filled with humor, but dour and apologetic. "I'm
really sorry, mate. I'll try to skip away if I can, but I've got to go try to wrangle in more lorries to
get this fuckery over with."

"It's fine, James, I understand," soothes Sirius, because he does understand. James had been dunked
headfirst into a massive corporation when his parents had died nearly four years ago. He'd turned
over most of the control to trustworthy people within the company in favor of being able to spend
more time with his family, but he still has massive amounts of responsibilities to the company his
ancestors had created. James does the best he can. "I'll wait outside for you and if you can't get
away or it takes too long, I'll call a cab. Don't worry about me, mate."

Sirius sees Remus shaking his head from the corner of his eye and he turns, noticing the man's face
pinched in concern and mild exasperation. "What?" says Sirius.

"What?" parrots James over the speakers in Sirius' ear. Sirius ignores him, frowning at Remus in
puzzlement.

"You don't have to take a cab, and tell him not to worry about it," says Remus. "I'll take you home."

"What? No," objects Sirius. "Remus, it's fine. I can't let you do that."

"Do what?" cries James, demanding attention. "What's happening?"

"You're not letting me do anything," insists Remus stubbornly. "I won't let you stand out in the cold
at the beginning of October waiting on a ride. It's not a big deal. Tell him to do what he has to do.
You're covered."

Sirius continues to stare at him, debating, James still squawking over the phone. Remus raises his
eyebrows at Sirius, challenging him to argue, his focused gaze telling Sirius that he'll lose the
battle if he does. Sirius sighs heavily.

"Padfoot!" shouts James. "I don't have all night. What the hell is going on?"

"For fuck's sake, Prongs, calm down, would you?" grouses Sirius. "Shit, you could make the deaf
cry with your ruddy volume. It's fine. I'll get home. Stay there where you're needed. Remus said
he'd drive me."

James is silent for a moment before mumbling, "Oh." Sirius resists the urge to roll his eyes and
groan, very aware of Remus' gaze locked on him. "Nice of him. You all right with that?"

"Yeah," mutters Sirius. "Take care of yours, mate. I'll see you whenever you make it in."

James utters a slightly stilted farewell before Sirius disconnects the call and drops the phone into
his lap. He glances sideways at Remus. "Thanks," he says. "You really don't have to, you know. I'll
be fine. I'm a big boy. I can take cabs by myself."

Remus huffs a laugh, the smile spreading back over his face. "It's not a problem, Sirius," he
reiterates. His fingers pull at a crease in his jeans for a thoughtful moment as he studies Sirius.
"You two have an…interesting way of communicating."

"Do we?" laughs out Sirius. "It's first nature now, not even second. We've known each other a long
time. Never thought it would seem odd to other people."

"It's not odd," disagrees Remus, shaking his head. "S'nice. Like brotherly bickering."

Sirius shrugs. "He is my brother. More so than my real brother ever was." Sirius winces at the
mention of Regulus and looks away to hide his face, flipping his phone between his fingers on his
thighs. "James' parents took me in when I was sixteen without any hesitation. They were already
more family to me by then than my real family ever had been, but the welcome they showed me,
treating me like their own…it cemented it for me. I was theirs, no question, like they'd always had
a second son, and James had always had a brother. That's never really changed."

Sirius can feel Remus' eyes shifting over him, but he doesn't look up, worried about what Remus
will find buried in his own grey gaze. Sirius hasn't spoken to many people about that time in his
life, or even the time before, other than the days he'd spent at school, choosing to leave his family
struggles from the details, focusing on the lighter aspects of his life. He's not sure why he's just
told Remus other than the fact that he knows, somehow, that Remus isn't judging any of it.

"That must have felt like a large relief," murmurs Remus eventually, pulling Sirius from his
thoughts. "Finally finding somewhere you knew you belonged and were accepted, then being able
to keep it. I imagine it was maybe like the stillness after a storm, everything quiet and peaceful."

Sirius hums softly but doesn't respond. Something thick is gathering in the back of his throat that
he's trying to battle away. He's not sure if Remus realizes this or not, but Sirius is grateful when the
other man changes the subject.

"Are you in a rush to get home?" he asks, his voice normal again, no longer soft and soothing. "I
have a bit of paperwork to finish up. Do you mind waiting?"

Sirius finally looks back up at him, his face easing into smooth edges. "'Course not. Do whatever
you need. Everyone's probably gone for most of the night. Harry's definitely not coming home.
Battling a ghoul, if James is to be believed. He'll be full of tales tomorrow."

Remus chuckles at the thought. "He sounds spirited," he comments, pushing himself from the sofa
and journeying to his desk. "I'll be quick."

"No rush, mate," brushes off Sirius, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. His back
is aching, though he's not sure why. Probably too much bloody sitting. His body isn't used to the
immobility, usually always moving in some capacity. "And you've no idea. Spirited doesn't even
begin to cover it. With James as his father, a red head for a mother, and me as an uncle, a constant
devious presence, he never stood a chance. Lily blames James and me, but I think Harry gets just
as much from her, though she'll never admit that she's got as much mischief in her as we ever
have."

"From my encounters with her at the hospital, I'd say you're right in your assumption," agrees
Remus in amusement.

There's a peaceful silence after that, Sirius trying to remain still, willing his back to ease. He knows
he could ask Remus the best way to achieve this, but he feels guilty. The man's technically off
duty, no longer Sirius' therapist at the moment. He's just Remus now, simply Sirius'…friend? His
eyebrows knit together over his closed eyes. The word sounds odd in his head. Is that what they
are, at least in moments like these, when the physio is over or on hold temporarily, while they're
sitting at the pool's edge or driving through the streets of London in Remus' car? Sirius isn't sure
yet, but he finds that he likes the idea.

The steady silence is interrupted when music begins to filter through the room, soft at first but
becoming increasingly louder until it settles a pleasing volume. Sirius lifts his head, cracking his
eyes open when he recognizes the song as Tidal Wave. He's been listening to it a lot since he'd
discovered it. His gaze meets Remus' across the room, seeing the man turning away from a set of
speakers behind his desk. He flashes Sirius a smile as he settles down with a stack of paper and a
biro, head bending over them intently, though his eyes show little interest.

Sirius drops his head again, remaining quiet, allowing Remus to work in peace as Sirius enjoys the
song. It eventually switches to something else, Remus apparently having his music on shuffle.
Sirius doesn't recognize it, but it's nice, slow and heavy. A man with a good voice is crooning sadly
about the aches of departing love. Sirius' back twinges and he grimaces, raising his head again and
staring at the floor for few seconds before shrugging to himself and angling himself of the sofa.

Being cautious of how he moves his leg, Sirius settles on the floor, the carpet softer and more
plush than he'd expected. He lays back, allowing his body to stretch, arms lifting over his head,
elongating his back and pulling delightfully. His shirt slides up a lot from the position, but the
tantalizing drag of his muscles feels too good for him to worry with tugging it back down. Sirius
sighs in heavy relief.

Sirius lays there for a while, gazing up at the ceiling, before he feels eyes on him. He turns his
head to see Remus staring at him, an odd expression on his face. When he sees Sirius looking at
him, the expression shifts, his eyebrows raising, amusement back on his features. Sirius grins,
ignoring the fact that there's a sheepish edge to it.

"Felt like stretching," explains Sirius dismissively.

Remus hums, his gaze flickering over Sirius' elongated form before settling back on his face.
"Body all right?" he murmurs.

Sirius thinks it's an odd way to phrase the inquiry, not focusing specifically on his knee or leg, but
he shrugs it off. Maybe it's a physio thing, or maybe Remus suspects Sirius' back is in bloody
knots. It doesn't matter.

"Fantastic," replies Sirius. He sees Remus' chest raise as he breathes deeply, the man's eyes still
fixed on him. But then his gaze is dropping back to the paperwork on his desktop, and Sirius is left
feeling a little flustered for reasons he can't explain.

He turns his head back to the ceiling, stretching out further, savoring the glorious pull throughout
his body. Sirius focuses his attentions on the music playing over the speakers, and if he happens to
feel eyes settle back on him periodically, he ignores them.

The song changes again, and this one Sirius recognizes. He looks back at Remus, a curious smile
spreading over his face.

"Really?" he questions in faint surprise. "Poets of the Fall?"

Remus' eyes flicker back up to him. "Yes," he responds, bemusement in his tone. "What about
them?"

Sirius shrugs one shoulder casually. "Dunno. Just didn't expect it. Your music tastes aren't at all
what I first assumed they'd be. Not that I'm not immensely happy about that. Thought you'd be into
something fucking horrid, like easy listening."

Remus' eyes narrow slightly, studying Sirius contemplatively. "Do you always base your
assumptions on people from your first impressions of them?" he asks in true curiosity.

Sirius' mouth works for a long moment, something clawing up his throat, like he'd done or said
something wrong. Then Remus is laughing, and Sirius calms a bit.

"Happy to prove you wrong, Sirius," murmurs Remus.

Sirius scowls, though there's no heat behind it. "Prick," he mutters. Remus chuckles again,
returning to his paperwork as Sirius lets himself fall into the song. Before he really realizes what
he's doing, the words are coming out of his mouth, not soft and harmonious as Remus' had been
during their first trip to the pool, but slightly louder, shaky. "Why's it feel like it kills when you're
leaving me? Am I still hanging on to the ends of yesterday in me?"

He's aware he can't sing for shit. Sirius has never really cared, belting out lyrics to songs whenever
the mood strikes him. Harry loves it. James and Lily not so much, nor anyone else, but Sirius has
always been impulsive, uncaring, mostly, about what others think of him. He glances over at
Remus again, grinning when he sees the man smiling down at his papers.

Sirius continues singing until the song changes again, turning to something else he doesn't know.
He hums along to the tune as it plays, absorbing the words. It's a peaceful thing, laying on Remus'
office floor, listening to music as the other man works, his head bobbing along to the beat from
time to time. Sirius realizes he feels as comfortable here as he does at the Potters' home. It surprises
him, but it also doesn't, like he's been waiting to find this room his entire life.

Sirius sings every song he knows, even trying some of the choruses on the ones he doesn't.
Eventually, one starts up that Sirius doesn't recognize, though he's positive he knows the band. And
then Remus is singing, eyes still focused intently on his scribbling biro. Sirius wonders if the man
realizes what he's doing as Sirius watches him, listening to his soft voice in amazement.

"Picture of gold, picture of silver. Over and gone, over and over again," he croons along with the
lead, voice matching voice.

It steals Sirius' breath as Remus sits and sings the entire song, never looking up once, never
pausing in his writing. Remus could have easily made a career from this, Sirius thinks. People
would have listened to him. Sirius would listen to him, during training, during runs, in the shower,
laying awake in bed at night, messing with Lily and Harry in the kitchen as Lily tries to cook, all
day long, every day, the low, soothing timber of Remus' voice settling over him like a soundtrack
that still needed to be created.

"Start to race it, all to one. Don't keep me waiting, it's deeper than you," sings Remus to his
desktop. Sirius stares at him, the oddly pleasant flutter taking root in his stomach again.
"Something wicked this way comes. Don't keep me waiting, it's deeper than your love."

The song eventually ends, and Sirius expects Remus to fall silent, but he doesn't. He continues
singing as an old Course of Nature ballad begins streaming through the speakers, the room filing
with the soft rock sounds and Remus' voice, overpowering it all.

"You're my distant destination of choice. I'd give anything just to hear your voice. I could've
passed you on the street without saying a word…"

Sirius is mesmerized, watching the man's lips move over his teeth, his tongue pushing outwards,
working the words effortlessly. He doesn't think he's ever seen anything so brilliantly bright in all
his life, Remus seeming to glow from the inside out as he settles in deeper to song after song.

It's a very long time before Remus' eyes shifts up to Sirius, the lyrics in his mouth dying away
when he's greeted by Sirius' grey gaze. Sirius doesn't bother looking away, still too transfixed on
what's been happening directly in front of him.

Remus frowns slightly, expression mildly confused, posture stiff and tense. "I was doing it again,
wasn't I?" he asks quietly, sounding sheepish, almost nervous. Sirius only nods, eyes still fixed on
Remus' face, not even blinking. "Dunno why I keep doing that around you. There's probably only
two people alive today that's ever heard me sing."

Sirius can tell Remus feels a bit awkward about his actions, doesn't like that he's doing it in the first
place, though Sirius doesn't really understand why. So he shrugs, brushing it off, acting like it's
nothing.

"Don't worry about it, mate," he murmurs, turning his head back to the ceiling. "I don't mind. Do it
all you want. Or don't want. Whatever makes you happy, Loops."

Remus laughs, a melodious sound, soaring above the music playing around them. Sirius can see the
other man's body relax from the corner of his eye and he smiles.

"Please," begs Remus in a deadpan tone, "never call me Loops again."

"What, not your style?"

Remus studies him over the top of the desk. "I think there's better nicknames you could come up
with," he responds, something like an invitation lingering at the edges of his voice.

"Oh?" says Sirius in intrigue, turning to look at him again, dark eyebrows raised high on his
forehead. "Don't tempt me. I'll find something."

Remus smiles in a knowing way. "Looking forward to it, Sirius."

Sirius blinks, but before he can process the other man's words or tone, Remus is flipping off the
lamp on his desk and standing. He stretches, arms lifting over his head, rounding around and
sticking straight out from his body. Sirius watches how his elbows curve upwards curiously.

"Ready to go?" asks Remus as he shuts the speakers off, the room falling into thick silence, and
walking across the room to stand over Sirius.

Sirius nods, beginning to sit up, but his back is now locked, no longer listening to the insistent
commands from his brain. He grunts faintly as he tries to force it to move before finally giving up.

"Think I might be stuck," he mumbles sheepishly, also pathetically. Remus stares down at him,
expression odd and a bit lopsided, one eyebrow dipping low, the other high, his mouth a twisted
version of itself. And then he's laughing, great heaving belly chuckles, his face flushing pink from
the hilarity coursing through his body. Sirius pouts exaggeratedly. "Oi, s'not funny, mate."

"It's actually incredibly funny, if you must know," says Remus, still chuckling with zest. "That's
what you get for sprawling out on the floor like a child. You do know you're not eight anymore,
don't you?"

Sirius scowls. "Seemed like a good idea at the time," he mutters. "And Harry never complains
when I do this."
"Well, he wouldn't, would he? He's got you to climb all over, or so I'm guessing. I'm sure it's very
entertaining for him, scaling the mountain that is the illustrious Padfoot." Sirius' ears perk up at the
use of his nickname. He finds he sort of likes the sound of it on Remus' tongue. "Though I'm sure
he doesn't have to help you back to your feet afterwards, does he? C'mon, Black. Up you go," says
Remus enthusiastically, bending and gripping at both of Sirius' upper arms. He hoists him off the
floor in one movement, making sure to lean him to the right, keeping the weight off his damaged
knee.

Sirius wobbles a bit before regaining his balance, and then Remus is releasing him, handing Sirius
his crutches, abandoned brace, and leather jacket before moving to collect his own things from
hooks on the wall beside his desk. Sirius' head is spinning a bit again. How the fuck does someone
like Remus do that, lifting a grown man up with no problem or help at all? It mystifies him, and he
thinks in a distant part of his brain that it always will.

Remus walks across the floor to the door and swings it open, glancing at Sirius in invitation. Sirius
smiles, hobbling over and through the frame, Remus following behind him. The man seems to
hesitate just outside, his eyes shifting down the hallway in consideration.

"We never did get you a new set of scans this week," says Remus, glancing at Sirius as the office
door closes behind them. "Care if we do that before we leave? I'd like to look at them this
weekend, see how you're progressing and where you still need work."

"Kinky, Lupin," retorts Sirius, smirking, eyebrows waggling. "I'll allow it."

Remus snorts deprecatingly as he moves down the hallway. "How'd you know I get off on muscles
scans?" he deadpans. Sirius gapes after him, not moving to follow. Remus stops, turning to look at
him, grin spreading over his face, relieving his features of their still encroaching exhaustion.
"C'mon, Black. You act as though we have all weekend or something equally ridiculous."

Sirius laughs, hobbling after him finally, the crutches digging in painfully, though Sirius ignores
them mostly, Remus still grinning at him as he walks backwards down the hallway. He doesn't turn
away until they reach the door opposite the Playroom, which he pushes open without ceremony
and holds it open as Sirius guides himself through. The room isn't any different than the first time
Peter had brought Sirius here, medium sized and mostly bare of any decorations on its pale blue
paint, save for the dividing wall with a large glass window situated in the middle. The machine is
small, just as Remus had previously described, not large enough for a whole person to fit, but
adequate enough for individual limbs.

"What do you do if someone needs something larger, where you have to fit more of them in than
just a leg?" questions Sirius as he makes his way to the machine and turns, handing Remus his
crutches and other possessions as he slots his hands over the edge of the table and hoists himself
up. "Like say someone's shoulder or neck is fucked. Obviously, you can't just contort them
however you want and shove them like a ball of body parts into your machine here."

Remus chuckles as he stashes Sirius' things behind the dividing wall. "No, though that sounds
interesting. Met many contortionists in your day that can turn themselves into balls of body parts?"

Sirius grins as he spins on the table, laying his leg flat. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teases.

Remus smiles but then sighs, his eyes shifting over the machine as he mindlessly pushes Sirius'
shorts up his thigh as high as they'll go, away from his knee. "I don't get many of those, thankfully.
Most injuries are within the legs and arms, typically, but when it happens, I've no choice but to
send them to hospital on a regular basis," he explains dolefully. "One day I'd like to get something
larger, but the good ones, like this one, are absurdly expensive, and I'm not willing to sacrifice
quality for size, in anything, really. The scans from most hospitals are crude versions of what I
achieve here."

"Skill over girth, huh?" mutters Sirius with a jesting smirk. "Good to know."

Remus arches an eyebrow, finally looking back at Sirius. "You have a talent, you know?" says
Remus objectionably. "You take the most mundane of phrases and twist them to suit your devious
purposes. It's admirable, though a bit too on the nose."

Sirius ignores most of the words coming from Remus' mouth and focuses on the first part. He leans
back, hands pressed to the table behind his hips, torso elongated, neck curving, hair falling over his
shoulders, the picture of waiting depravity. His smirk deepens, grows lewd and exaggerated. He
winks at Remus.

"I have a great many talents," he flaunts wickedly. "Wanna learn some of them?" Sirius finds it's
easier to be like this, letting a small amount of his true nature seep between the cracks of his
carefully placed guise in situations where he may otherwise feel awkward and on the wrong foot,
as he so often does with Remus. It's simpler to let it happen than to allow his thoughts to linger on
the truth behind the actions, the subtle and not so subtle flutters in the pit of his belly, the pull from
lower between his legs, and sometimes even higher, like a string tugging within his chest. It's
happening again now, but he forces it away, buries it deeply, away from the light and his curiously
piquing mind.

The corners of Remus' mouth twitch upwards, only slightly, as he continues to stare at Sirius, eyes
fixed solely on his face and not moving, not exploring what Sirius is so clearly offering him
through the pretense of jokes. Sirius feels a small twist of disappointment, but he pushes that down,
too.

"You weren't lying," says Remus finally, his brown eyes gleaming with humor in the faintly
flickering artificial lighting overhead. "You really are an insatiable flirt. You'll definitely like
Marlene when you meet her. She'll match you step for step, though she won't mean a word of it.
You're not really her type, or so I've gathered based on her very feminine girlfriend."

Sirius hums. "Feeling will be mutual, then, " he admits, looking toward the machine but glancing at
Remus from the corner of his eye, watching for his reaction. He hadn't said it yet, hadn't even
hinted at it really, though he'd never had to before. Sirius had always been under the impression
that it was fairly obvious where his preferences landed. "She'll probably not be much my type,
either."

Remus' blatant lack of reaction leads Sirius to believe that maybe the man had already known, had
vague suspicions, or was simply still oblivious to Sirius' true meaning behind the words. "Oh,
yeah, she'll have lots of fun with you," says Remus, almost sounding eager for the show he was
silently being promised. "Did you know your eyes darken when you do it? Less bright grey, almost
charcoal. Marlene will eat you alive."

Sirius looks back at him in mild surprise. He happens to know this fact, along with the addition
that, no, his eyes don't do that every time he shamelessly flirts with whomever chooses to cross his
path at the right moment. Only certain people produce that shift, and only when Sirius has little
restraint over himself.

"Super excited to meet her," comments Sirius, flashing his patented full-power grin at the other
man, the one he knows makes people weak in the knees. Remus doesn't seem fazed, simply
smiling and leaning forward to push one of the machine's buttons, sending the table lurching,
sliding inside the hollowed cone until the red laser is crosshatched perfectly over Sirius' kneecap.
Then he's turning away, disappearing inside the small booth behind the dividing wall.

Silence settles as the machine begins to whir and clunk as Remus works the controls. It's a bit too
heavy for Sirius' liking at the moment, especially with nothing to focus his attentions on. He tries
not to fidget, knowing any movement will interfere with Remus' work. Sirius turns his head,
looking sideways at Remus through the window, seeing the other man watching him as he waits
for the images to load on his screen.

"You need some photos in here or something," suggests Sirius. "Bit bland compared to the rest of
the place, Remy."

Remus rolls his eyes. "Had some. Took them down to paint close to a month ago and haven't put
them back up yet. Think I've decided I don't much care for them. Need to find new ones," explains
Remus, his voice a bit crackly over the intercom speakers. "Also, you're still horribly off with the
name. I'm banning that one as well."

"Blast," mutters Sirius cheekily. "Thought I had something good with that one. Could've been like
Ratatouille. Not a fan?"

Remus hums in amusement. "Big fan, actually. A rat that can cook? Wholesome. Just not a fan of
the name. Zero for two, I'm afraid." He glances to the screen and Sirius can see the spinning circle
of doom reflected in his eyes. "Speaking of," he says conversationally, looking back at Sirius in
curiosity, "you've got some…interesting nicknames in your repertoire. Prongs?"

Sirius laughs before he can stop himself, then forces his body still again, breath snorting through
his nose instead. "Look, say what you will, but that one's clever," he defends. "Been calling James
that since we were fourteen and he got sloshed. Tried to poke a fork into an outlet. Still don't know
what he was trying to accomplish with that one. You've seen him before, the wild hair. You can't
even imagine what he looked like afterwards. Pretty sure his hair wasn't nearly so bad until after
that."

"How did you two ever survive into adulthood?" asks Remus, leaning back in his chair as he
laughs and shakes his head. Sirius shrugs innocently, causing Remus' laughter to heighten as he
lifts his arms, locking his fingers together behind his head. "And Padfoot? It's attached to your
name under the Association. Thought it was a team thing, but none of the others have nicknames,
so now I'm not so sure."

Sirius grins. "Nah, that was James," says Sirius fondly. "We played footie during school, think I
mentioned. Prongs always teased that I was like a feather on the field, moved like I floated instead
of ran. Quick, which I am. Makes me a good striker. He said my feet had to be padded or
something because no one could match me from our team or any others that we played. Thus was
born Padfoot. The team picked up on it not long after I joined the Association, and it sort of spread
from there. Now it's cemented in, but I don't mind. Makes me think of James and school. You
know, when things were a bit easier, better, less riding on the wins and losses."

"I like it. It suits you. Padfoot's not so bad. Makes me think of a dog, which you definitely remind
me of constantly. Too energetic for your own good, bit slobbery," says Remus teasingly as he
nods. "Do you give everyone nicknames?"

Sirius shoots him a two-finger salute for the comment, but doesn't address it, saying instead, "In
my head sometimes, yeah, most people. But the true epithets are reserved for the ones I really like.
Only James' has ever really stuck." Sirius falls silent, his thoughts drifting as Remus continues to
watch him, still leaning back in his chair, hands latched behind his wavy hair. "One other stuck, for
a while. I knew a boy when I was in school. Met him when I was about thirteen. He lived in the
village down the lane. Used to run into him a lot when I was there, sneaking around, finding ways
to cause mayhem."

"What did you call him?"

"Moony," murmurs Sirius, gazing distantly at the floor between him and Remus. "I called him
Moony."

"Moony? Bit odd, isn't it? Even for you." Remus has an odd expression on his face, like he can see
Sirius' thoughts and mental images, like he's sympathetic and compassionate towards the feeling
suddenly rising in Sirius that he can't put a name to just yet.

"S'what his mum called him, apparently. Said he was always mooning about, daydreaming at all
hours, head in the clouds. Suppose he sort of was when I think about it now."

Remus is quiet for a time, as though debating what to say next. The air is heavy around them.
"What happened to him?" he asks softly, gently, like prodding a sleeping lion and not certain what
the reaction will be when it wakes.

Sirius sighs, pulling himself from his dour thoughts and looking back up at Remus. "Not sure," he
mumbles. "One day he was there and then the next time I went to the village, he wasn't. I searched
for him for months. Never saw him again. He just sort of…vanished. Even asked some of the
locals. No one really had an answer, or one they were willing to give, at least."

"Pity," says Remus, voice careful. "Sounds like you were fond of him."

"Yeah," whispers Sirius, mostly to himself. He hasn't thought about the boy with more than a
passing thought in a long time. Now he weighs down heavily on Sirius' mind, just as he had all
those years ago, the panic returning to his chest when he'd been unable to find him again. He clears
his throat, trying to banish away the feeling. "Scans finished?"

Remus' eyebrows raise at the question, as though he's forgotten. His eyes shift back to the screen
and his arms drop to his sides as he leans in closer. "They are," he murmurs. "Let me get them set
to print and I'll come free you."

"Freedom would be grand," remarks Sirius dreamily, causing Remus to chuckle over the speakers.
When the other man finally reemerges from behind the dividing wall, stepping up to Sirius and
pushing the button to pull him out, Sirius sighs like an elated girl. "Ah, the hero and conqueror of
machines and scans returns. So very gallant. Fancy a nip as a reward? Or a tip, whatever. Shags
were all the rage back in the dragon slaying days."

Remus eyes him as Sirius slowly drifts backwards on the table, his lips twitching, fighting back
amusement. "You never stop, do you? Always with the wit and snark and flirt. It's constant."

"You told me not to!" protests Sirius emphatically.

"I did, didn't I?" mumbles Remus, frowning deeply. "You know, I'm regretting that decision now."

"Oi! I am a bloody fantastic specimen of a man. No one regrets coming in contact with me."

"Easy for you to say. You're you. You love yourself, so of course you'd think that."

"Everyone loves me, Remus. Do keep up, would you?"

Remus turns his attention back to the machine. "Hmm, perhaps," he murmurs as he presses the
button to stop the slow slide of the table.

"Saying you don't love me, Remus?" queries Sirius, batting his eyelashes and looking doleful,
using his best puppy eyes on the other man. "I'm hurt, truly."

"I'm saying," confides Remus, suddenly leaning very close next to Sirius' head, hot, damp breath
ghosting over the shell of his ear, and Sirius stiffens in multiple ways, back going rigid, "that loving
you is probably like watching massive destruction in reverse. Hundred car collision on the
motorway, all spinning backwards."

Sirius blinks. His chest feels tight, heart pounding insistently from the proximity of the other man
and his words. He's confused, stuck in the middle between turned on and offended. What the fuck
does that mean? his brain screams at him. Sirius blinks again, swallowing thickly around
something suddenly lodged in his throat.

But then Remus is pulling away, glancing over Sirius' rarely silent form with smugness. Sirius'
head tilts to the side, gawking, completely upended and turned arse over elbow.

"You – you – " he stutters out, mouth refusing to cooperate. Remus is now laughing, bending
slightly at his middle as the mirth overtakes him. "You absolute prick!"

Remus continues to laugh hysterically as Sirius glowers at him, though he's fighting back his own
smile. When the other man finally calms mostly and straightens, his eyes shift over Sirius' still
slightly rigid posture, looking smug again, like he knows.

"For the record," states Remus self-gratifyingly, "that's how you do a proper flirt. In case you ever
want lessons."

Sirius relaxes marginally, easing his body out slowly, hoping to hide the shift from Remus'
watchful eyes. "Oh," he says in mock intrigue, playing it up to the best of his current abilities, "so
you were flirting. Good to know you're interested. Wanna do it again? I'm more prepared this time.
I'll actually study, wonder of wonders. S'not something I've ever really done before, believe it or
not."

Remus rolls his eyes again, huffing out an amused breath. "Now I'm thinking better of it," he
counters, walking to the booth and grabbing Sirius' things. "Based on that poor example, I'm not
sure you can learn from your mistakes."

"Do I need to worship at your feet?" queries Sirius somberly as he straps the brace around his knee
and shifts off the table, settling the crutches under his arms, restraining a wince as his weight
pushes down against them. "Kneel down before you and kiss your shoes? Spit shine 'em a bit? The
kneeling I could definitely manage. Well, not now, but eventually."

Remus groans in exasperation and Sirius smirks. "Let's go, Sirius," he says, walking to the door
and pulling it open. "I think this room is getting to your head. You've gone a bit mental."

"You're getting to my head," mumbles Sirius, thankfully low enough that Remus can't hear him,
though the man does shoot him a narrowed look of inquisitiveness as he holds the door open for
Sirius to hobble through. "To the car we go!" proclaims Sirius, louder this time, and Remus
chuckles as he guides them through the building, checking a few doors to make sure they're locked
as they go.

Remus punches a code into the alarm system when they reach the front and then they're out the
door, standing in the chill air, Remus' keys tinkling in the shadows cast by the outside lights of the
building and those in the car park as he works at the sticky lock. Sirius watches him through the
darkness, but then makes a conscious effort to turn away, aware that he's staring and trying hard not
to do just that.

Once Remus is finished, they walk to his car, Remus helping Sirius in before stowing his crutches
in the back and climbing in behind the steering wheel. He sets his phone in the clip again and
connects it to the car, restarting the shuffle of songs where they'd left off earlier. Sirius settles back
in the seat after telling Remus where they're going, not paying much attention to the music this
time, his eyes glancing to the right, studying Remus as the other man stares ahead at the dark roads
of the city beyond the windshield.

Sirius' mind keeps drifting back to what Remus had said when he'd removed Sirius from the
machine. What had he meant by that? Remus had passed it off as a joke, simple jesting, something
inconsequential, but Sirius can't help thinking there had been something else behind those words.
They were almost calculated, like Remus had put thought into them. Sirius is nearly the best there
is when it comes to making things up off the top of his head, so even he knows that's not the sort of
thing that becomes an instantaneous reply to simple, harmless flirting.

He gnaws on his bottom lip as he stares out his own window. Loving you is probably like watching
massive destruction in reverse. Hundred car collision on the motorway, all spinning backwards.
What did it mean? It sounds like a horrible thing, but other parts…Sirius' brain spirals, dipping to
the darkness, delving back in and burying itself into memories of his childhood, the insults thrown
his way near constantly, the crippling emotional and sometimes physical abuse, always ending
with him just never being good enough.

"Got any plans this weekend?"

Remus' words pull Sirius out of his thoughts. He realizes there are tears in his eyes and he blinks
them away quickly, turning and staring down at his lap, hoping the darkness in the car will hide
his emotions.

"Team's back in country," he mumbles, pinching at the fabric of his shorts, watching the crease
form and then fall away. "Gotta go to practice tomorrow. It'll take most of the day."

He sees Remus glance at him from the corner of his eye, but he doesn't look up. "You don't sound
terribly excited," he says, almost gently. "Figured you'd be happy to see them again, get back into
the fray."

Sirius sighs, eyes shifting up to stare out the windshield. "It's just so fucking pointless," he
grumbles. "What's the purpose of me being there, wasting my time, when I can't actually do
anything?"

"I'm going to get you back out there, Sirius," murmurs Remus. "I promise you that. If it's what you
want, you'll be there."

"You know what I really want right now?" says Sirius suddenly, a small amount of bite in his tone
that he can't hold back. "I want to know what you meant earlier, about the destruction in reverse.
What was that about?"

Remus is silent until they reach a traffic light and come to a stop, then he's turning and staring at
Sirius. "I was joking, Sirius. Only teasing," he explains, but his face is a little strained in the
shadows of the car, the bright red of the light gleaming off his skin in an eerie way. "It meant
nothing."
Sirius looks back out the window as they start forward again. "I think you're lying," he mutters
after a long while. Remus turns the music up, drowning everything else out, making speech nearly
impossible. They drive the rest of the way to James' and Lily's in oppressive silence, save for the
constant shuffling songs, all sad, all morose, like a depressing soundtrack.

When they pull up in front of the dark house, Remus finally turns the volume down before stepping
out and rounding the car. He retrieves the crutches from the back as Sirius pushes his door open,
and then Remus is there, gentle hands helping him from the car, making sure he has his balance.
Remus is so close that they're almost chest to chest. Sirius can smell him for the first time that he
can remember, a curious scent of brittle paper, citrus, something bittersweet like dark chocolate.
Remus stares down at him, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

"Enjoy your weekend, Sirius," he says in an almost whisper, and then he's backing away, handing
Sirius his crutches.

Sirius accepts them and hobbles around the car and up the dark path to the empty house. Remus
waits out front until Sirius steps inside the door, then he's gone, car rumbling faintly as it
disappears down the street.
 High Tensions, Deep Aches, & Soundtracks
Chapter Notes

Slightly early update. Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius is in a foul mood on Saturday as he hobbles his way around the edge of the pitch to where
the rest of the team is gathered, chattering amongst themselves. It's partly because he'd been awake
most of the night ruminating over Remus' cryptic words, but mainly because James had pestered
him the entire ride here.

"Late when you got in last night, wasn't it?" started James as soon as they'd driven away from the
house. Sirius casted him a reproachful glare and James released a tight laugh, lifting his hands from
the wheel briefly. "I wasn't spying. Camera picked the car up when it parked out front. Sent it to
my phone. I've got to adjust the sensitivity. Keep forgetting."

Sirius sighed. "Bit, yeah," he agreed, not in the mood to bicker over the subject after so little sleep.
"He had some stuff to finish before we left. No big deal."

James hummed, eyes fixed forward. "I see. Thought maybe you two had gone somewhere before
he brought you back."

"Really? Thought we stopped off for a shag on the side of the road. We didn't, but believe me, do I
wish that were true," snapped Sirius a bit belligerently.

James turned to look at him sharply. "Exactly," he nearly hissed. "That's what I'm worried about.
You're already letting it get out of hand. Hanging round with him outside of physio, letting him
give you rides home, listening to all this new music obsessively. He's important for you, Sirius, but
I think you're allowing him to become important to you. It's not going to end well."

"Thanks for the stroke of confidence, really, mate. Truly appreciated," grumbled Sirius, crossing
his arms over his chest. "He's my friend, James. I'm supposed to do all those things."

"Your friend?" questioned James indignantly. "I'm your friend, Pads. Lily's your friend. Frank's a
friend. People you've known for more than a week and a half. You don't know enough about Lupin
yet to call him a friend."

Shit, was that all it had been? Not even two weeks? It hit Sirius hard in the chest. He felt like he'd
known Remus for years. It left his head reeling and spinning.

"He said he wanted to be friends. He likes me. And I like him," mumbled Sirius. "What's so wrong
with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with that. He seems like a nice bloke from what you and Lily have said. Have
another friend, Sirius, by all means. You need more," said James a bit bluntly, causing Sirius to
cringe. "But you have to know more about him than his name and music tastes to call him that.
When's his birthday? Where did he grow up? Is he from London? Does he have siblings? And his
parents. Know anything about them? Why did he become a physiotherapist?"
Sirius frowned. He didn't know any of those things. He'd never asked. Sirius suddenly realized that
Remus knew far more about him than Sirius knew about Remus. That wasn't really fair, was it?

James sighed. "Look, mate, if you want him as a friend, then I want that for you, too," he said
gently. "But you're going about it the wrong way. You're digging yourself a hole that's going to be
too deep for you to climb back out of and you're falling – "

"I am not falling," interjected Sirius irately.

James shot him a brief glare. "You are falling," he reiterated. "Ignore it all you want, but it's there,
and if you keep ignoring it, you're going to be buried alive before you even realize what's
happened. I know you, Pads. I know how you operate. You've got it in your head that you're
already friends, like you've known one another forever. I know you're flirting incessantly, because
it's what you do, and you're telling yourself that you're doing it because it is what you do while
you're ignoring the fact that it's different this time. Don't do that. Leave an air pocket to dig
yourself out, mate."

Sirius said nothing, staring out the window of the door at the passing buildings and people walking
down the gloomy, rain-soaked street. James sighed again.

"I am grateful to him for bringing you home, Sirius," murmured James. "I didn't like the thought of
you standing around waiting for me. Liked the idea of you calling a cab even less. Never really
know what someone will do if they realize who you are. At least with him I knew you were safe.
I'm not judging him or trying to throw you off him completely. He seems like good people to have
around, but just…listen to me for once, Padfoot, will you?"

Sirius remained silent for the rest of the drive, James finally giving up and turning on the radio to
fill the empty spaces of the car. It had been a generic station, filled with a large mix of different
genres and decades of music. Sirius had internally cringed, sinking down further into his seat
miserably.

He doesn't have feelings for Remus. He isn't falling, no matter what James claims. Remus is fun to
be around, and yes, Sirius is very obviously attracted to him. He can't hide that anymore, though
he's not sure if Remus has figured it out yet or simply thinks Sirius' flirting is exactly what Sirius
had claimed it to be: empty gestures of his personality. Either way, it doesn't matter. He's not going
to act on any of it, because as much as Sirius doesn't want to admit it, James is right. Travelling
down any road connected to that would lead to disaster. It always does, at least for Sirius. Yet, he's
still resolute on the fact that it's just about the sex. He does not have feelings. That's just ridiculous.

Frank and Benjy look up at the sound of Sirius' rattling crutches, their faces splitting into wide
grins as they wave vigorously and trot over to his side. Sirius relaxes just a little at the welcome.

"Good to have you back, Padfoot," says Frank jovially, clapping Sirius on the shoulder and nearly
sending the crutch out from under his arm. "Oh, er…sorry, mate."

"Bloody hell, Sirius, it's been bleak around here without you," comments Benjy, looking relieved.
"McGonagall has been on a terror. Prewett number one and Cresswell have been insufferable.
Think they're tops now that you're not around. Moody's ready to lose his shit. Think his eye has
nearly exploded a few times. Though wouldn't that be wicked, coach with an eyepatch to go along
with his limp?"

Benjy smiles serenely, clearly picturing the scene. Sirius snorts. Leave it to Benjy to babble until he
distracts his own self. Benjy blinks, his eyes clearing quickly, gaze flickering over Sirius and down
to his knee.
"How's the leg? Please, please, tell me you're back soon. We need you here, mate. We're shite
without you, though most of the others would never admit it. Gotta have our star striker on the
pitch, taking all those spectacular steals and kicks."

"I'm working on it, lads," replies Sirius as he stops a decent distance from the rest of the team, also
looking down at his leg and bending his knee more than he'd been able to the last time he'd been
with his friends. "It's a bit better, yeah. Physiotherapist is a god among men. Says he'll get me back
as soon as he can. I can already put a small amount of weight on it."

"That's ace, Sirius, really," chirps Frank happily, beaming as he grips his fingers over Sirius'
shoulder. "We worried, you know, that they'd push you off on Lockhart or someone equally as
inept."

"Nah," denies Sirius. "You know Lils. She's not going to let that happen if she ever has any say in
it."

"Salt of the earth, she is," agrees Frank reverently. "No wonder her and Alice get on so well.
Couldn't get Al to answer her mobile early this week because she was holed up with Lily, doing
who knows what."

"I know what," attests Sirius with a roll of his eyes. "I was there. The shrieks and giggles in that
sitting room were loud. They ran James and me off. I think it was intentional. There was wine
involved, and they pushed Harry and Neville off on us. They knew what they were doing, don't
think they didn't. Nightmares, women. How do you lot stand it?"

Benjy's face twists in mock aversion, his light brown skin wrinkling faintly in the gloomy mist
falling around them. "Could ask you the same about the stubble and the cocks, but I don't, do I?" he
remarks slyly.

Sirius howls in complaint, trying to shove at Benjy while still keeping his balance on the infernal
crutches wedged under his arms. Benjy laughs as he dodges him easily, a teasing glint in his dark
hazel eyes.

"Think this berk forgets that one day you'll be able to chase him again," comments Frank, standing
back and watching the scene with critical amusement. "And that you've always been faster than
him."

"S'pose I should start running now then. Might make it to the Netherlands before you catch up,"
jests Benjy, slipping back closer but keeping a guarding eye on Sirius. "I've always liked the
Netherlands. It'd be a nice place to die, I think."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "If I murder you, I'm taking you down to the penguins. Let their squawking
drive you mental in the afterlife." Frank and Benjy chuckle as Sirius' eyes drift to the rest of the
team, settling on two heads near the center of the gathering, one red, the other bright blonde. "What
about Prewett number two?"

"You know Fabian," says Frank, following Sirius' line of sight. "He keeps out of it, mostly. Let's
Gideon hold the reins. Don't think he's best pleased with Gid's latest attitude, though."

Sirius nods in understanding, his gaze still fixed on the two men standing out like fire and light
from the sun in the middle of everything. Fabian and Gideon Prewett, twins, a powerhouse of a duo
both on and off any field in existence. They'd played their way into the Association same as the rest
had, but they'd managed to draw a lot of eyes in the process. People all over the world knows their
names as well as they know Sirius'. Offers had been made for both of them to several different
teams, but they'd refused to go anywhere without the other, attached at the hip, heart, and head.

While they are insanely in sync through most everything they do, especially during matches, they
are the polar opposites of one another in personality and spirit. Gideon is loud, showy, energetic;
much like Sirius and James themselves. He plays the game like lightning, a streak of red over the
pitch, vicious energy seeping out and infecting everything, catching and turning it to fire. Fabian is
quiet, more reserved and observant, allowing his brother to lead the way through most scenarios.
He speaks his mind when he has to, joins in with the team's fun and banter, but always contains an
edge of stoicism that puts most at instant ease around him. If Gideon is the lightning, flashing
brilliantly and blinding everyone in his vicinity, Fabian is the thunder, steadily rolling in like a low
rumble along the ground, invading everything in his path before you even know he's there, using
his brother's distraction to sweep in and deafen all to rattling silence.

Under most circumstances, Sirius would have chosen Fabian over Gideon for their short-lived fling
of a thing a few months back. If Sirius has a type – which now he's beginning to believe he does if
his infatuation with Remus points to anything – it's definitely more bright sun than roaring fire.
None of it matters at all, though, since Fabian is definitely not bent that way in the slightest. Sirius
had nosed that out early on. Pity. Fabian would be just the thing to pull Sirius' mind away from his
new physio god.

Sirius shakes the thoughts from his head, turning his attention back to the two men beside him.
"Well, let's see if we can shake them up a bit, yeah?" he mutters with an impish grin.

Frank laughs and Benjy whoops as Sirius starts making his way around the pitch again. They run
ahead, clearing a path through the rest of the team to the center of the loose huddle, calling for
silence.

"He has returned!" cries Benjy dramatically, arms falling in a sweeping motion, head bowing as
Sirius enters the grouping. "All hail Padfoot, fearless striker and epic healer of epicness. Please
hold all applause. He requires only your humble servitude." Benjy continues his theatrics as the
team begins to greet Sirius enthusiastically. "Wait! Bugger, forgot the theme music. Should've had
theme music. Say, Sirius, what is your theme song? You know, for next time."

Sirius starts to roll his eyes, tossing the ridiculous idea away, but then his gaze is meeting Gideon's.
He's standing to the side of the others, keeping his distance, staring at Sirius with dark eyes and a
darker expression. The lines of Sirius' face smooths to match it.

"I Will Not Be Stopped," he utters before he can think about it, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

Benjy laughs but looks a little confused as he claps a hand down on Sirius' shoulder, clearly not
having been expecting an answer. "Sounds like a good choice, but, er…am I meant to know what
that is?"

Sirius holds Gideon's gaze for another few seconds before he's turning back to the others, carefully
sculpted mask of cheeriness falling over his features. "Probably not," he responds.

"You and your weird music, mate," says Frank, shaking his head. "I'll never understand it."

"Oi! S'not weird. I listen to popular stuff, too. Sex Pistols, The Clash, Iron Maiden, bloody Queen."

"You're a bleeding queen, mate," mumbles Benjy with a smirk. Sirius does manage to shove him
this time, throwing the other man a bit off balance.

"Name one band that you listen to that any of the rest of us would know," persists Frank. Sirius
opens his mouth to speak, but Frank holds up a hand, stopping him to add, "From the past decade."
Sirius falters, closing his mouth, eyes shifting around as he thinks. He frowns while Frank, Benjy,
and several of the others surrounding him smirk and laugh. "Thought so. Weird. But we adore you
regardless, Pads, musical interests notwithstanding. I'll never understand it."

"Oi, it's good stuff! If you'd just try – " attempts Sirius in a last-ditch effort, but he's cut off by a
grumbling voice at the edge of the gathering.

"What're you lot standing around here for?" barks Moody gruffly, limping into the center. "Is this a
practice or innit? Get out there, you lazy sods! Oh, Black. Good to see you, lad. How's the knee?"

The team disperses to the pitch quickly, Frank clapping Sirius on the back once more and Benjy
waggling his eyebrows before they follow, jogging across the grass. Sirius looks down at his leg,
flexing it again as he had earlier.

"Getting there," he replies. "Still have a bit to go, but it's already better in just a week than I thought
was possible."

"Good thing you didn't stick with Lockhart. You'd be fucked nine ways to the penguins," huffs out
Moody. Sirius blinks at him and stares. It's a rare occasion that he understands half of what comes
out of the other man's mouth. "Sounds like that new one you found knows what he's doing."

"Think he does, yeah," agrees Sirius, still shifting his knee within the confines of the brace. It feels
good, nice to have more flexibility, to be able to move and work the stiffness away. Sirius is still a
little miffed over Remus' confusing words and casual brushoff, but Sirius knows he's not being
honest, and that isn't fair to the man that's already helped him so much. "He's amazing, actually.
Stellar. Far more than I ever expected."

Gideon is standing at the edge of the pitch, stretching his body out in preparation, close enough to
overhear their conversation if he's trying hard enough. Sirius knows he's listening by the stiffening
of his posture and hardness settling into his shoulders. He glances sideways at Sirius, something
harsh and accusing flashing in his muddy eyes. Sirius ignores him as McGonagall steadily
approaches Moody's side.

"He want a different job?" questions Moody. "We'd chuck Lockhart without even spitting on him
first if we could find someone better that easily."

"We most certainly would," says McGonagall crisply as she stops in front of Sirius. "What are we
discussing?" Sirius barely restrains a hysterical snort. McGonagall hates the team's resident physio
officer as much as the rest of them do, though they can never seem to be rid of him. "Black. Nice
of you to join us again."

"Already tried. He's happy where he is. And did I have a choice?" scoffs Sirius a bit testily. "Isn't
my attendance obligatory even though I can't bloody well do anything while I'm here except look
pretty on a bench?"

The woman arches a dark, intimidating eyebrow. "Would you like a choice, Sirius? That can most
certainly be arranged," she says, her voice kind, polite, but a hint of warning lingering around the
edges of her tone like barbed wire, ready to prick at skin and force blood. Sirius rolls his eyes and
sighs. "I assure you, there are much worse things than looking pretty on a bench for a few weeks."

Sirius doesn't have a chance to reply as Moody is suddenly pushing him down onto the
aforementioned bench rather roughly. Sirius hops backwards on his good leg, trying to keep the
crutches under him as best he can. He curses loudly as his bum connects with the hard metal,
hissing out from the pain rocketing up his tailbone and into his still aching back.

"The fuck, Moody?" he yells indignantly. "Trying to kill the other leg, are you?"

"Stop your whinging, Black, you dramatic squawker," mumbles Moody, crouching down on his
own good leg and grabbing Sirius' knee in rough hands. Sirius bites back a faint whimper of pain as
the man begins prodding insistently around the brace, twisting Sirius' leg in his grip without a
shred of gentleness. "I'm checkin' you out myself. Making sure that bloke is doing what he's meant
to be doing."

Sirius' face morphs into outrage, brow furrowing, mouth falling open angrily, eyes glaring. He
begins to protest, but then he's grimacing as Moody twists his knee a bit too far to one side, a low
groan spreading out from between his parted teeth.

"Oh, Gordon Bennett, Alastor!" exclaims McGonagall, stepping forward and pushing Moody away
from Sirius. "You're going to rip his leg clean off if you keep that foolishness up. Do you honestly
think he's going to lie to you? I'm sure he wants to come back as much as you do. You're not
helping anything by injuring him further."

Moody grumbles under his breath about the woman beside him as McGonagall leans over Sirius
and begins pressing surprisingly gentle fingers over Sirius' knee, apparently trying to ease away the
abuse from his coach. Sirius sighs heavily in relief, meeting her eyes gratefully as she looks up at
him. He thinks the corners of her mouth twitch faintly, but he can't be sure as she suddenly
straightens and begins lecturing Moody on the proper way to treat his players.

Sirius tunes their bickering out, stretching his leg in front of him and slumping on the bench. His
foul mood begins to sink back in as Moody limps out to join the team and give them instructions,
McGonagall disappearing up into the risers for a better vantage point. Sirius really doesn't want to
be here. It's pointless, sitting on the sidelines with the other bench-riders, the younger lot, the
substitutes that rarely get the opportunity to play. Now Sirius is one of them, in a place he doesn't
belong. They keep staring down the bench at him and he growls in frustration, shifting further
away.

He bends sideways, digging in his jacket pocket for his headphone case. He pops one of the buds
out and presses it into his ear, quickly syncing it up with his phone. Moody's shouting is giving
him a headache. Sirius scrolls through the music on his phone, searching for something worthwhile
before he gives up with a grunt of irritation and searches for Longwave instead. So far, he'd
listened to two full albums trying to sort out which song is Remus' new favorite. Sirius loves
puzzles, and this is shaping up to be a good one to sink his teeth into.

He'd started with their first – to his knowledge at the time, at least, because he still hasn't managed
to find their true first album – and then moved to their newest, trying to find the specific song
within the two albums Remus had stated to be his favorites. So far, Sirius hasn't had much success.
He's spent hours of his suddenly boring life listening to song after song, trying to relate them back
to what he currently knows of Remus, though thanks to James this morning, Sirius now realizes he
doesn't actually know much about the man he's so ridiculously fascinated by.

He swipes his thumb over the screen, studying the cover art critically before finally selecting the
one within nearest tapping distance. It's black and white, like marble, or smoke over a sharp, crisp
backdrop and though Sirius had chosen it randomly, something about the soft against harsh colors
and the title draws him in. Secrets are Sinister. Sirius snorts caustically, one of the benchers
shooting him a deprecating glare. Sirius ignores him. Secrets are sinister, huh? Try telling that to
Remus Lupin.
Sirius presses the play all button and closes his eyes, Moody's voice still filtering into his
unencumbered ear fading away as Sirius focuses on the lyrics over every song that wisps through
his head like the smoke on the cover. They're good, some dark, some hitting home, striking him
squarely in the chest. Some of them hurt a bit, but he keeps going, the time passing by more
quickly with something else to tune his attentions toward.

Before he knows it, he's more than halfway through, a new song starting up that sounds vaguely
familiar, though he can't place it immediately. Sirius assumes Remus had already played it at some
point while Sirius was present, but before he can really zone into the words and the vibrating beat,
Moody is in front of him, pulling his attention away, making him remove the earbud begrudgingly.

"Should be wrapping up soon," the man huffs out, slightly winded from trailing the team back and
forth along the pitch. "Potter grabbing you?"

"Lily, on her way home from Mungo's," responds Sirius in a bored tone. He watches as Gideon
streaks across the field, angling in for a strike to a waiting Frank, but he's wide, his foot hitting
closer to the side of the ball than the back, sending the ball flying sideways. Sirius chuckles darkly
before he can stop himself. Fucking tosser.

Moody stops tracking his players with his eyes and turns to look down at Sirius. "Coming back on
Thursday?" he queries gruffly.

"S'long as it's early," answers Sirius just as roughly, leaning backwards on the bench and stretching
out the aching muscles along his spine. He hates sitting so much. Bloody nightmare. "Got physio
that afternoon."

"Good. Keep on that."

Moody looks back over the pitch, watching as Benjy darts in from the side and swipes the ball
from one of their less seasoned players, Advik Bakshi. Cresswell's face turns bright red behind the
younger man, hands flying to his hair in rage, about to lose it on the kid until he sees Moody
watching. Sirius shakes his head.

"I'll deny this until I'm dead if you ever try to claim I said it," mutters Moody, eyes shifting back
and sweeping over Sirius calculatingly, "but we need you back soon, Black. They're off without
you, out of sync and it's showed in our last several practices and the match against Hungary.
Something about you ties them together, keeps their heads floating above their own shit-infested
water. You get that knee of yours better and get back on that pitch, understood, boy?"

Sirius looks over Moody before his eyes drift back to the field, landing on Benjy, panting heavily
and skirting around Gideon, both men glaring daggers at one another. They're not even trying to
play anymore, from the looks of it, simply taunting back and forth, some of the others moving
around uneasily while several more shift closer, backing up their chosen victor. Benjy takes a
running stab at the ball, but Gideon grins as he approaches, something vicious, rabid flashes in his
eyes as he kicks the ball as far away as he can at the last second before Benjy crests his foot
forward. Benjy skids across the grass in mild surprise, righting himself before he falls, but Sirius
can hear Gideon and Cresswell laughing darkly, the sounds travelling across the pitch like hyenas.

Sirius glances back up at Moody, staring at him for another few seconds before he nods silently.
This mess is his life. He's got to get back to it.

--------------------

Sirius' weekend improves slightly when Lily and he return home to find Harry sitting on the
countertop in the kitchen, happily munching away on a half sandwich, his swinging feet thumping
idly into the washing machine. Sirius immediately hobbles over to him, leaning in and stealing a
bite of his sandwich, causing Harry to cry out and giggle. Sirius' heart swells as he chews and
laughs along with him. He'd missed the boy the previous night. The house is too quiet without him
within its walls.

He spends the remainder of his night and as much of the following day as close to Harry as
possible, letting the boy entertain him, or Harry allowing Sirius to entertain him. They sprawl out
across the floor and push around cars, battle with plastic dinosaurs, and at one point, Harry begins
to wrestle with Sirius, though Lily had cut that fun short, fearful of the damage the boy could
accidentally cause to Sirius' leg. When Harry tires, Sirius settles down with him, book in hand and
reads quietly until his small face is smoothed out into the peaceful lines of sleep, body slumping
warmly into Sirius' welcoming side. While Sirius hates the immobility his injury has caused him,
he's also finding himself grateful for it in moments like this. He doesn't have to leave Harry
constantly, can spend entire days and weeks with him, doing whatever they wish, whenever they
wish it.

When Monday creeps back around, Sirius finds himself mildly anxious as he steps out of Lily's car
in front of Remus' office building. He's not sure what to expect from the man after their last
encounter, worrying about it most of the weekend.

Rosmerta sends him straight back, though he's early again. Sirius hesitates for a brief moment
outside Remus' office door before muttering something scornful under his breath at his foolishness
and knocking lightly on the door. When he hears Remus' muffled voice granting him access, Sirius
pushes the door open.

Remus is sitting at his desk, feet propped up on the wood top, legs crossed at the ankles. He's got a
book spread open in his lap, his mouth chewing the remnants of something Sirius can now see no
sign of ever existing. He looks up when Sirius closes the door behind him, usual smile spreading
across his face as he swallows.

"Hallo, Sirius," he greets, snapping the book closed and setting it to the side. "Good to see you.
Sorry. Late lunch."

He drops his legs from the desk and stands, rounding the corner and making his way over to Sirius.
He seems…normal? Like Friday night had never happened at all. It irks Sirius a bit, but he lets it
drop. Maybe Remus had been truthful. Maybe the comment was only said in jest. He shakes it from
his head as Remus motions to the sofa and chairs in silent offer.

Sirius hobbles his way to the sofa, dropping down in his usual spot, stretching his leg out in front
of himself. Remus sits beside him, angling his back into the corner to face Sirius.

"I looked over those scans from Friday this weekend," he says amenably. "They look good, Sirius,
even after only a week. You're healing far better than I ever anticipated, which is nice. You
probably won't have to be at this for as long as I'd initially thought in the beginning."

Sirius' stomach twists oddly at the idea of being separated from Remus sooner than expected, but
he pushes it away. They still have weeks. Sirius won't heal that quickly, not enough to go back to
sprinting across a field anytime soon, at least. Maybe there's time enough left to make sure he won't
be completely separated from Remus once things come to a natural end.

"Sounds great, mate," he says in reply. "I need to get back out there. Practice was horrible on
Saturday. They need me."
Remus smiles faintly. "Were they happy to see you?" he asks politely.

Sirius shrugs, glancing around the room to keep his eyes away from Remus' gaze. "Most of them,
yeah," responds Sirius. "I've got two good mates in the middle of it all. They seemed pleased. Gave
me a lot of shit, but that's just what we do."

"Shit?" repeats Remus in amusement. "Of what sort?"

"Mostly about my music tastes," says Sirius, shifting back a bit to see Remus better. "One of them
asked me what my theme song would be, if we had those. None of them had any idea what it was.
Apparently, you're not the only one who listens to obscure things. And by obscure, of course I
mean not the stuff sitting at the top of the charts, because isn't it just ridiculous that anything else
exists?" Sirius rolls his eyes caustically as Remus chuckles.

"What song did you tell them?" he questions curiously.

"I Will Not be Stopped."

Remus raises his eyebrows, amusement growing. "Adelitas Way?" Sirius nods, unsurprised that
Remus knows exactly what he's talking about. The man studies him appraisingly for a silent time
before a large grin finally bursts over his freckled face. "Makes perfect sense. I can see it."

Sirius returns the grin, but it fades a little as he recalls Gideon's dark eyes fixed on him. "There's
probably far better out there," he admits, keeping his voice casual and light. "Mainly named it
because of a small amount of hostility with one of my teammates. Had to make a point."

"That's an…aggressively made point," murmurs Remus thoughtfully, the humor fading from his
eyes. "There's more than just general rivalry there, I'm assuming."

"Yeah," says Sirius with a loaded sigh, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "I may have fucked that one up
a little."

"A little?" parrots Remus, one brown eyebrow arching high on his forehead.

Sirius smiles innocently as his eyes drop back down to the other man. "Or a lot," he confesses.
Remus continues to stare at him perplexingly. Sirius huffs. "It was never on the most stable footing
to begin with, all right? But you don't fuck with teammates. Literally. You don't fuck teammates."

Remus' eyes widen. "Ah," he breathes, gaze shifting over Sirius in an odd way. "Good to know."

Good to know. What did that mean? Good to know that you didn't fuck around with someone you
were meant to be amicable with, or good to know that Sirius had just admitted to shagging his very
male teammate? Remus isn't really looking at Sirius any differently, but he sort of is, like he's
finally seeing something about Sirius that he hadn't been sure of since the beginning. It sends a
pleasant and also very unpleasant chill down Sirius' spine.

"Yeah, well," mumbles Sirius, looking away again. He doesn't say anything else. What's he meant
to say? Specify his very long, detailed history of bloke after bloke since he was fifteen? Regale
Remus with tales of his sexual forays? Not happening. It isn't any of his business, though a small,
evil voice in the back of his mind whispers that he'd very much like it to be Remus' business.

Remus is silent for a while, still studying Sirius with a strange look in his eyes. When he finally
speaks again, he's shifting the subject, just a little, surprising Sirius by the words falling from his
mouth. "Were you happy to be back with them?" he asks softly, curiously.
Sirius glances back at him, and the look in his eyes has shifted as well, something like intrigue
sparking in their brown depths. Sirius resists the urge to fidget under his direct gaze.

"Yeah, 'course I – " he begins, but stops as his eyes meet Remus' again. There's something else
within them, something resembling understanding, like Remus won't judge whatever Sirius has to
say. "It was nice to see Frank and Benjy," he says instead, his words falling flat, leaving the answer
at that. Because he had missed his friends, but he knows he should have missed more than just
them. Sirius should have been itching to be back on the pitch, should have had to have been
restrained to keep him from hobbling his way out there just to regain the feeling of being in his
element, but he hadn't even tried, not once, spending his hours listening to music and scrolling
through his phone instead. What did that say about him?

Remus hums softly and nods, nothing more than a small motion of his head. Sirius shrinks back
from the look in his eyes, not liking that Remus seems to be so easily able to read Sirius' inner
thoughts and feelings without even trying.

"I have to get back out there," reiterates Sirius, more firmly this time.

Remus exhales a long breath through his nose, his face suddenly shuttering, closing off. "Well,
then," he says, clapping his hands on his knees before he stands and urges Sirius to do the same,
"let's do just that, shall we?"

--------------------

The days progress, and with them, so does Sirius. His knee strengthens quickly, pleasing both
Remus and Sirius. Their pool days are Sirius' favorite, quiet and relaxing, always leaving extra time
for companionable chats at its edge. Sirius wonders if maybe it's by design, Remus seeming to
enjoy it just as much as Sirius, but he'll never know for sure if he's right or not.

On Wednesday of the second week, Remus surprises Sirius before he leaves by offering to drive
him home every Thursday and Friday. It's a kind gesture, something he brushes off as simply
trying to make sure Sirius is never stranded, taking some of the pressure off James and Lily and
their busy schedules, something Sirius had mistakenly mentioned guilt about during their pool visit
the day before. Sirius wonders about that, too. Wonders if there's an ulterior motive the man isn't
speaking aloud. Sirius doesn't ask.

After another week and a half, Remus starts allowing Sirius to put small amounts of weight on his
injured leg, testing its strength and searching out any pain. It's weak, of course, and there's loads of
pain at first, but Sirius finds that it feels good not having to constantly keep it supported above the
floor beneath his feet.

Remus begins working with him using different exercises, ones that require Sirius to build the
strength back up in his muscles, put steadily more and more weight on the damaged limb. He also
starts allowing Sirius to actually swim during their pool visits instead of just floating along, the
other man joining in as they do laps around the pool, Sirius slow at first, but quickly gaining speed
the more his leg heals. It's exhilarating and Sirius feels like he's flying by the time the end of the
third week comes and he's down to using only one crutch for minor support as he walks with a still
noticeable limp. It's irritating, but it doesn't bring him down.

On Friday, Sirius finds himself stretched out across Remus' floor again. His back is still aching
periodically, though not as much now that he has a bit more mobility with his legs. He just needs
some relief from it at times and sprawling on the floor is about the best he's found so far.

Remus studies him from his desk, pile of paperwork under his nose again, brown eyes sweeping
over Sirius' form as he breathes a sigh of relief he can't contain, just loud enough to be heard over
the music playing through the room. Remus frowns and shakes his head, pushing himself away
from the desk and standing. He walks over to Sirius, staring down at him, hands resting on his hips
reproachfully.

"'Lo," says Sirius as he meets the other man's eyes. "Lovely view, really, but can I ask what you're
doing?"

Remus' frown deepens. "What I'm doing?" he says sharply, a bite in his tone, his eyebrows raising
accusingly. "Sirius fucking Black, your back is in knots, isn't it? It's been bothering you since the
first time you did this, try to tell me it hasn't."

Sirius' gaze shifts to the side in avoidance, his lips pinching up and out. "No?" he attempts. Remus
scowls at him.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that, Sirius?" he demands angrily, but then it fades, a weary sigh
leaving him as his eyes soften. "I can help you, you foolish sod."

Sirius shrugs as best he can from his position on the floor. "Didn't want to bother you with it," he
mumbles. "You're not my therapist now. You're just Remus."

Something flickers through Remus' eyes at the words, his brow furrowing. His frown disappears as
he shakes his head again. "I can help," he repeats, more earnestly this time, almost pleading. "Don't
keep things like this from me."

Sirius nods slowly in acknowledgement, in understanding, watching Remus as the other man
continues to study him. Then Remus is dropping to his knees beside Sirius, startling him a bit.

"Roll over," insists Remus, nudging at Sirius' arm with his hand. Sirius blinks at him in surprise but
eventually does as he's told, carefully rolling over and settling on his stomach. Remus grabs a
pillow from one of the chairs and places it under Sirius' knee to keep it padded in his current
position, then his hands are hovering over Sirius' back. "Where does it hurt?"

Sirius pillows his head on his crossed arms for more comfort. He wants to turn and look at Remus,
but he can barely see him without twisting his neck in an odd position.

"Middle and lower, right down the center and spreading out over the sides," informs Sirius a bit
begrudgingly, his voice muffled by the fabric of his long sleeves. "It's better than it was in the
beginning now that I can move around more easily, so you really don't have – "

Sirius stops suddenly when he feels his shirt lift, the material pushing up his back until it's bunched
over his shoulder blades. Then there are warm fingers pressing into his cool skin in the center, just
above the natural dip. Sirius sucks in a breath he either hopes Remus doesn't notice or passes off as
a sound of mild surprise. Because it is. That's all it is, just surprise. Only surprise at having Remus'
flesh against his own, not under water, not under any sense of obligation when his fingers are
wrapped around his leg or ankle or knee. Just there, helpful and trying to soothe away an ache
Sirius can't seem to manage on his own.

He swallows against the rising feeling of something in his throat as he tries to breathe through the
sensation of the fingers steadily working lower down his back. Remus is quiet, probably focused,
assessing. Sirius desperately wishes he could see the man's face, though he doesn't know exactly
why.

Just as the hands reach the dip in his spine, right before the waist of his joggers begin, Remus says,
"You've got knots all over. I should have realized. You're used to moving constantly. Of course
your back is going to be fucked up from all the immobility."

The words and tone in Remus' voice sounds almost guilty to Sirius' ears, like it's solely his fault for
the discomfort Sirius has been experiencing. Sirius thinks it's a bit of a stretch. It's his body, his
responsibility to speak up about it. Sirius lifts his head from his arms, craning his neck around as
far as he can, trying to see as much of the man beside him as he's able.

"Like it's your fault? Piss off with that shite," he utters, voice containing a small edge of
reprimand. "S'my fault for not saying anything. Thought it would get better on its own, and it has.
Sort of. Just because you're this physio god or whatever the fuck doesn't mean you see all, know
all. You've done more than anyone else could have at this point. Don't pile on the things you
couldn't have possibly known."

Remus' hands pause, fingers lifting away from Sirius' skin. He leans back a little, meeting Sirius'
eyes, mouth pulled down into a frown. "I just don't want to see you suffer if I can do something
about it. And you've been suffering for weeks, apparently. That's not okay, Sirius. If something
hurts, you have to tell me."

"I thought no pain, no gain was the company line?" mutters Sirius with a teasing grin.

Remus leans back in, but Sirius can see that his frown doesn't disappear from his face before he's
lost from view again. "Sometimes. Physical pain," he murmurs as his fingers press into the center
line of Sirius' back again. "But that's not entirely what I mean."

"What do you mean, then?" asks Sirius curiously, his brow furrowing.

Remus doesn't answer, remaining silent as his fingers work delicately over Sirius' skin. Sirius tries
to crane his neck further around to see the man's face again, but it's impossible. He lets his head fall
back to his arms with a disappointed sigh.

Sirius likes Remus, he does. He likes his personality and his sense of humor. He likes a great deal
about him that has absolutely nothing to do with attraction, but the one fault Sirius has found so far
is that he thinks Remus rarely says what he actually means when speaking. There's always some
hidden nuance under his tone, a lingering mystery around the edges, floating in space just waiting
for Sirius to reach out and grab it. It's a bit infuriating to someone like Sirius who almost always
says exactly what's on his mind. He's finding it difficult to navigate around without pushing back
too hard.

Sirius remains silent as well, trying not to focus too much on the overly warm hands grazing over
the skin of his back. That's difficult, too, but in a different way.

Remus is just digging in a little deeper when he mumbles consideringly, "Physio god, huh? It's got
a nice ring to it. I'll have to add that to my CV so no one can ever disregard my talents again. Also
have to tell Pete. He likes to challenge sometimes, and I simply can't stand for that."

Sirius begins to tense but stops himself, remembering belatedly that Remus will feel it. He snorts
instead, a deep burst of air exhaling through his nose. "Absolutely," he confirms. "A Greek one, I
think. Like Zeus. No, wait. Zeus was a prick. Someone else then. Fuck, I'm terrible at mythology."

"They were all pricks, Sirius. I'll save you some time and research. Comparing me to any of them
would not put me in the best light," counters Remus lightly, a small chuckle around the edges of
his voice. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
"Yes, well, we'll create a new one then, one named Remus, God of Physio and Healing. How's that
sound?"

"Enticing," responds Remus in amusement, "but I think I'd rather be myself, thanks."

Sirius tries to respond, but Remus presses in deeper on a different point of Sirius' back, massaging
a place that's been irritating Sirius since almost the beginning of his injury, since he'd first taken
the tumble on the field. He can't fight back the sharp gasp and then low moan that leaves his mouth
as the knot is worked in a pleasing way. Remus' fingers pause in their ministrations, but Sirius
barely notices, his head sinking lower, nose nearly brushing the floor, spine arching up, searching
out the pressure.

"Blimey, your hands are amazing," he mutters to the carpet. "You don't need a magic wand,
apparently, just your fingers. Fuck. That's bloody paradise. How are you this good?"

Remus' movements begin again, his thumbs digging in this time, working over the knot, swirling
around Sirius' skin in alternating circles. "Lots of practice," he responds. The words are light,
joking, but Sirius can just hear the tightness at the edge of the man's voice, like he's biting back on
something, keeping it reined in. Sirius wants to push against it a bit, test and see if he can't bring it
forth, whatever it is, but the way Remus' hands move over him has him nothing more than a
jiggling lump of jelly sprawled across the floor, so he can only remain mostly silent, save for the
noises that still escape him periodically.

They stay there for a while longer, Remus continuously working over Sirius' back until he thinks
he can't move ever again, his entire body limp and noodle, like spaghetti cooked too long. Remus'
hands finally stop digging into skin, his fingers brushing lightly over Sirius' back, searching out
any remaining lumps or knots. He seems satisfied, because he shifts back a little. Sirius glances
around to see him better, Remus' eyes sweeping over him appraisingly.

"All right," he says, "roll out your back for me. See how it feels."

Sirius groans faintly. "Don't think I can. You've turned me into a puddle."

Remus arches an eyebrow at him in disbelief, reaching out and poking an experimental finger into
Sirius' side. "Funny," he mutters. "You still feel solid."

Sirius snorts out a breath of air through his nose, wriggling away from the prodding. "Oi, don't.
That tickles," he objects. Remus catches his eyes, something wicked and impish glinting in his
brown irises. "Bugger. Shouldn't have said that. Note to self, don't tell people you're ticklish."

Remus laughs, leaning away and raising his hands in appeasement. Sirius starts with his neck,
lifting his shoulders and bending his head down as far as he can. Then he uses his arms to push
himself up slightly, arching his spine and then rolling it down, like a wave moving through his
body in slow motion. It feels amazing, his joints popping in a fantastic way, the sounds echoing
through the room, just loud enough to hear over the soft music streaming from the speakers. He
groans again and flops back down before turning over, face angled toward the ceiling.

Remus is watching him as he moves, eyes shifting over the plains and hills of his body studiously,
muscles tense and locked, expression closed off. Sirius glances at him, arching his eyebrows
questioningly. When Remus notices, he blinks, relaxing almost immediately, his face opening up
again.

"Feel better?"
"Loads," answers Sirius with a small sigh of relief. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

Remus smiles, just a hint of a thing, his face softening further. "Yes, I did," he murmurs. He
releases his own sigh and shifts around, spreading his body out across the floor in the opposite
direction of Sirius', their heads resting side by side. Sirius turns his gaze to watch the other man in
amusement.

"Thought laying about on the floor was childish?" he prods teasingly.

Remus hums faintly, his eyes closing. "It is," he replies, a small smirk stretching his lips outwards.
"But we all have that inner child we have to feed from time to time, remember?"

Sirius barks out a sudden laugh, Remus' eyes flying back open at the sound, turning his own head
to gaze at Sirius. His eyes are narrowed a bit, mouth pulling oddly at the corners like he's trying to
smile but can't quite make himself follow through with it. It's a curious expression, causing Sirius
to want to squirm under the scrutiny of its intensity.

"What?" asks Sirius when he can stand the look no longer.

Remus shakes his head. "Nothing, it's just…you sound like an excited dog, sometimes, when you
laugh. Did you know that?" he responds, the same peculiar expression filling his features. "It's
nice. Wholesome. Fills a room. Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. It just takes me by surprise
when I hear it."

Sirius shrugs it away. "Told you I should have been a dog," he says, because Remus is beginning
to look slightly worried that he's offended Sirius, something incredibly difficult to do, if Sirius is
honest with himself. He can take most backhanded comments with a flair of hands and a grin. He'd
been bred for it, molded to fit perfectly. Comparing his laugh to the bark of a dog doesn't bother
him.

Remus huffs a laugh, relaxing beside Sirius, his shoulders blades shifting over the carpet, searching
for a more comfortable position. "S'pose you did, didn't you?"

They fall into an easy silence, the music playing through their ears, Sirius enjoying the radiating
warmth from the man next to him. Remus' eyes are closed again, his hands draped lazily over his
stomach but fingers tapping out the rhythm to the song currently filling the space around them. It's
a soothing thing, but still hits Sirius in a different way, like something sharp digging into his chest.
It seems like a great many of Remus' much-loved songs have this effect, like he chooses them
specifically before Sirius arrives, just to see how far in he can dig the knife.

"He stokes the flames 'cause he is amused by the glow," Remus begins to sing again, voice low but
not the same murmuring he typically does. He keeps his voice level with those accompanying the
lyrics, soft and gentle, not overpowering, matching word for word. "She'd rather feel all its warmth
than watch the show. Holding the answer, he dances for the one he knows. His faith in love will
last through wind, rain, and snow."

Sirius watches Remus as his mind drifts back to James' words a few weeks prior. Sirius still doesn't
know much about Remus, though he's tried over the passing days in a roundabout way to gain
more information. Remus seems to keep his life held closely to his chest, barely letting any light
inside to allow parts of it to shine outwards for the world to see. Sirius can understand that. There
are parts of his own life he rarely shares with others, but Remus has already learned more about
him and his past than most others ever do. Sirius just wants to know him. Isn't that what friends do,
share themselves? That's what James had said so very bluntly.
Remus had stated once that only two people living had ever heard him sing. Who? Peter? His
parents? Does Remus still have parents? He never mentions them, but he doesn't mention anyone
other than those he works with on a daily basis. He talks about music more often than anything
else, the conversations coming easily, which leads Sirius to believe music is a very large part of
Remus' life. But why? Music is a big part of Sirius' life, too, but he feels it's more to Remus than it
ever has been to him.

There's artwork scattered around his walls. Artwork missing from the machine room because
Remus had said he wanted something new, no longer liked the old things. Does Remus care about
art, or does he just base it on feelings? Sees things he likes and purchases them because they
remind him of something, or give him pleasant or even unpleasant feelings? The man has such
eclectic tastes in things that it astounds Sirius on an extremely deep level. Remus had lived a life
before Sirius had even met him; a life that had shaped him, made him who he currently is, with his
ancient car and relaxed clothing and singing that creeps out at the oddest of moments. Sirius just
wants to know what makes Remus so very Remus.

"You're staring," mumbles Remus suddenly, eyes still closed, mouth quirking up in the corners.

Sirius grins, pulled back slightly from his thoughts. "You're singing," he counters.

Remus' smile broadens, creasing the skin around his closed eyes. "I've decided not to fight it," he
announces. "Not like it was doing much good, was it? It kept happening when I wasn't even aware.
Apparently, I'm comfortable enough around you for that, so why not give in and let it happen at
will?"

"Happy to hear it," says Sirius softly, and Remus finally opens his eyes and looks at him, smile still
in place. "I like your singing."

Remus rolls his eyes back up to the ceiling in a lazy motion. "I used to hate it," he admits.
"Everyone always told me I was talented, but I never believed it. My mum used to try to get me to
sing for his friends when I was young. I never did. Too shy."

Sirius' ears perk up at the mention of Remus' mother, but he doesn't comment on her, saying
instead, "Shy? You? I don't believe that."

"Oh, yes," replies Remus with a hearty burst of laughter. "Extremely shy. I'd turn red if someone so
much looked at me that wasn't my family. Hindered me in making my own friends, I'm sure you
can imagine. It wasn't until I was about sixteen that I started blossoming." Remus splays his fingers
out in a dramatic movement to accompany the word, causing Sirius to chuckle. "My teachers never
knew what to make of it. Here they'd had this quiet, well-behaved boy in their classes for two years
and suddenly, almost overnight, I was this incredibly forward and babbling person. Still quiet, still
well-behaved, mind you, but just…more than I ever had been before."

Remus shifts his shoulders over the carpet again, making himself more comfortable. "Then I went
to uni, branched out a bit more. Shook away the shackles, if you will," he continues, suddenly very
talkative, as though he'd been able to read Sirius' previous thoughts. "Met some good people. Met
Pete. Then started all this." His eyes sweep over the parts of the room that he can see before
settling back on Sirius. "I finally figured out that shyness and closing myself off to everyone
around me wasn't getting me very far."

"What made you want to do all this?" asks Sirius, not wanting Remus to stop, wanting to learn as
much as he possibly can while the man is willing to speak about his life. "The physio thing. It's not
something most people typically lean towards, is it? So why physiotherapy?"
Something flickers through Remus' eyes, his smile faltering and falling from his face. Sirius frowns
as Remus looks away again. He's quiet for a long time, so long that Sirius thinks he isn't going to
speak, that maybe he'd asked the wrong question, pushed for too much too soon. But then Remus is
sighing faintly, his eyes turning distant as he gazes at the ceiling.

"My mum," he says softly. "My mum made me want to do this." Remus falls silent again, fingers
picking at his shirt in fidgeting movements. "When I was thirteen, she had an accident. Fell off a
ladder outside of the little cottage we lived in while she was trying to clean one of the top floor
windows. Mangled her back in the process. Paralyzed from the waist down."

"Shit," hisses out Sirius before he can stop himself. Remus hums in response, though Sirius doesn't
think he's really listening to anything.

"She saw several doctors in the beginning. Most said the same thing. With a few surgeries and
proper aftercare, there was every chance she'd regain some function in her legs," mumbles Remus,
eyes still distant and fixed on the ceiling, like he's seeing something that isn't there. "She never did.
The physiotherapists she was set up with barely did a thing. We could never get her in with the
best, because the best were expensive and we were never well off in terms of money. Or anything
else, really. The therapists she was able to see were hacks at best, money-grubbers at worst. Sort of
like your Lockhart, from the sounds of it."

Remus pauses again, like he's sorting through his thoughts. Sirius doesn't speak, letting him have as
much time as he needs, simply trying to be a comforting presence in the face of such a terrible
reality.

"I remember thinking, even back then," murmurs Remus, voice dropping lower, barely audible
over the music, "that if she'd had access to a better physiotherapist, someone less greedy and in it
more for the healing and for giving someone their life back, maybe she would have recovered a
little. And then maybe she wouldn't have died two years later from crippling depression."

Sirius feels like something splinters inside his chest at the almost casual words. "Fuck, Remus. I –
I'm sorry – "

Remus turns his head back to look at Sirius, drying the apology up in his throat as the man offers
him a small smile. "I'm very selective about who I take on here, Sirius," he says, almost
conversationally. "I don't take just anyone. I take in the people who are in danger of losing their
livelihoods, everything they've worked so hard for, built up over painstaking years and time. I take
the people in danger of losing their lives." Remus' eyes sweep over Sirius' face. "It's why I agreed
to treat you."

Sirius blinks a bit in surprise, but the more he thinks about it, knowing what he does now, it makes
perfect sense. He swallows around the sudden oppressive lump in his throat and says, "I'm sorry.
About your mum. I'm sorry. Can't have been easy, watching her like that."

"It wasn't, no," mumbles Remus and then he's silent again, still staring at Sirius, his brown eyes a
little too bright in the intimately lit room.

"And your dad?" asks Sirius in the absence of anything else.

Remus' eyes lose their brightness at the question, his expression hardening just a little as he turns
his face back to the ceiling. "I don't really want to talk about my dad," he mutters.

"Right, yeah. Sorry," says Sirius quickly, backtracking. "Didn't mean to push."
Remus sighs again, more weariness in the sound this time. "You're not pushing," he says, like
admitting something he doesn't really want to acknowledge. "It's just…" He trails off, struggling
for words. "My dad worked a lot when I was a kid. And when he was home, he…well, he was
never really in it for me, I don't think. He loved me. I know he did. But it was always her. Always
my mum. So he worked to give her and me everything he could, because he loved her and she
loved me. He worked and worked until…he didn't anymore. Once she was gone, he just gave up on
nearly everything. Waited until I went off to uni and then moved back home. We don't really speak
much anymore."

Sirius processes this information for a while. He understands family problems and struggles better
than most would, just as he understands there's things between the lines that Remus isn't saying, but
he leaves it alone. He decides to forgo the father in the subject and focuses on a different detail,
certain Remus would prefer to not discuss it anymore.

"So, you're not from London, then," he says slowly, voice a bit cautious, testing. "I had wondered,
but the accent is spot on."

"No, somewhere else," replies Remus, disinterest in his tone. "Small place. Not really worth
mentioning. We moved here after my mum's accident, so she could be closer to better physicians."

Sirius hums but remains otherwise silent, not wanting to push the subject further and drive Remus
away instead of closer. They stay like that, quiet and thoughtful, sprawled across the floor,
shoulders almost touching but not quite, letting the music in the room wash over them. Sirius loses
himself in it a little, closing his eyes and diving in. When a surprisingly familiar song begins to
play, his eyes open again and he turns to see Remus also with his eyes closed, small smile playing
on his lips.

"My mum was the one to introduce me to Longwave," says Remus suddenly, the smile spreading
as he begins to sing. "All the secrets that you keep when someone comes between the cracks are
dark lies that sing in the shadows like devils at your back. I won't let you go…

"I still don't know how she found them, but she loved them, listened to them all the time. Knew all
their songs by heart. She would have loved this album," he continues, humming between his words.

The song shifts and it's another one by Longwave, one that Sirius also recognizes. Remus' smile
grows even larger, like he's lost in a memory or daydream. Sirius is watching him again, listening
to the lyrics for about the hundredth time since he found out how much Remus loves it. Remus
continues singing, truly letting himself go for the first time since Sirius met him.

"When you are aching, tired and waiting. When you are sinking, going down like a stone, nothing
comes easy," he croons, soft and gentle, drawing Sirius in and holding him there.

"You know," says Sirius during a pause in Remus' singing, "I think I get it now, why you like this
song so much." He falters, gathering his thoughts, though they still seem a bit scrambled even to
him. "I mean, it's a brilliant song, and I've liked it since I first heard it, but I dunno. I see it a bit
better now. Listening to it…it's like staring out a rainy window, all overcast skies and gloom, but
then the sun peeks out from the clouds, taking away the grey, making everything gold, just for a
minute."

Sirius feels ridiculous. He doesn't talk like this, doesn't even think what he said makes any sense
except maybe to his own twisted head. He doesn't look at Remus, not until he senses the man's
eyes on him. Sirius risks a glance, and then he's caught, staring back at Remus, trapped by the
overwhelming understanding in his honey-brown gaze.
"When I first found this song," murmurs Remus, his eyes not leaving Sirius', like he's drinking
them in, leaving Sirius empty yet so very full of something he can't seem to put a name to, "it
reminded me of a point in my life where everything was like that. Grey, overcast, dreary. Not much
keeping things going. But then something happened that changed it all, just enough, just for a little
while, and it was better. It was exactly like that. Like the sun breaking through the clouds and
turning everything golden, hazy and slightly confusing, bursts of silver lining the edges. Not peace,
not really, but just…lighter. Less dark, less crushing."

"That's one helluva song," mumbles Sirius, not knowing what else to say in response, wanting to
ask what had happened to make Remus feel that way, but knowing, somehow, that he wouldn't
receive an answer.

"That's what music is supposed to be," says Remus, still watching Sirius' eyes, like he's
memorizing them, mapping their shape, naming their color as if it hadn't existed before Remus
looked at them. Sirius is transfixed, can't even blink, not that he wants to anyhow. "It's supposed to
fill you with something, whether good or bad. It's meant to pull you back into memories or make
you look forward. It should inspire love, fear, hope, sadness. Music should be a soundtrack to a life
lived. I think I've finally found mine, and this song is part of it. So far, at least."

He smiles at Sirius then, and it's exactly as described before, like the sun making its presence
known from behind stormy grey, heavy clouds. Sirius' breath falters in his chest, catching in the
base of his throat and sticking. He realizes that maybe he's a little more lost than he had previously
thought and becoming more lost by the second the longer he stares back at Remus. Sirius finally
tears his eyes away, though it's a painfully agonizing thing. He swallows thickly as his gaze settles
back on the plain ceiling, all white and speckled, absolutely no brown to speak of to anyone.
Boring, undefined, safe. Empty.

"Think I'm still searching for mine," he says quietly. "I Will Not be Stopped can't be the only thing
on my soundtrack."

Remus laughs quietly, a comforting sound. "It's not, Sirius," he responds. "You're much more than
that. You've got a great many songs detailing your life, I can guarantee that. You're an entire
orchestra, each instrument playing a different tune that's entirely you."

Sirius frowns up at the ceiling. "I don't think that's true," he admits, almost dejectedly.

"It is," says Remus, brimming with more confidence than he ever has before. "You're far more than
you think you are, Sirius."

Sirius looks back at Remus, brow furrowed in disbelief. They're difficult words to put much stock
into. Sirius is talented, he knows. He's been told as much for most of his life, from most everyone
surrounding him except his family. But what else does he have besides that? When someone better
comes along and outshines him – because of course it will happen someday, it always does – where
does that leave him?

Football has been nearly his entire life since he was twelve and was able to join one of his school
teams. It's fueled him, driven him further and further than he ever thought back then that he would
possibly be able to go. Sirius never imagined all those years ago that he'd be where he is today,
who he is today. But he knows that one day, probably sooner rather than later, that it'll all be gone,
and he'll be left empty and drifting, just as he was before his parents sent him away to school.

Remus watches him, his smile gone, eyes studying the deep wrinkles forming on Sirius' face. His
hand twitches on his stomach, like the man wants to lift it and smooth the deprecating creases
away, but he doesn't, hand and fingers stilling again, like he's locking them in place. Sirius looks
away, unable to meet Remus' eyes any longer. He changes the subject as fluidly as he's able.

"I've been searching for that song, you know," he mumbles. "The one by Longwave. Your new
favorite."

"Have you?" questions Remus in genuine interest, following the shift in topic.

"Yeah. Haven't had much luck," admits Sirius. "I've got through three albums now, but I've no
more idea than I did when you first told me. I keep thinking I can just guess and see if I eventually
get it right, but that feels a bit like cheating."

"Suppose it would be a little," agrees Remus, still staring at Sirius. "Any ideas yet?" Curiosity
shines in his eyes and Sirius very nearly melts under the brown gaze.

"Not really," he says. "None of them seem right just yet. Suppose I'll know it when I hear it. Just
waiting for it to hit home. A hint would be nice, if you're willing." Sirius grins brightly,
charmingly, and Remus' smile returns.

"I think that would be cheating as well, don't you?" replies Remus, laughing at Sirius' mock pout.
"You'll figure it out. I can tell you this, though. I know for a fact that you've already heard it once."

Sirius' grin fades away, turning into a thoughtful frown. That should narrow it down a little, but it
really doesn't. It seems like Remus listens to every Longwave song in existence. Sirius has already
heard at least a dozen with him, probably more that he can't even remember.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" mutters Sirius, but his face softens to show that he's teasing. "I
hate puzzles."

Remus' smile grows. "No, you don't," responds Remus knowingly.

"How do you know?" demands Sirius around a surprised laugh, trying to force mock irritation into
his voice. He fails miserably.

"I just do," says Remus. "I bet you do the crossword every day. In ink, no less."

Sirius gapes. "How could you possibly know that?" Because, yes, Sirius actually does. He's
mystified by this man.

Remus shrugs casually. "I'm very good at reading people, Sirius. It's one of my many skills."

Sirius hums, wondering silently what other skills Remus possesses that Sirius hasn't managed to
divine yet. Remus lifts his arms above his head, groaning faintly through the languid stretch. Sirius
watches the curious curve of his elbows again, utterly fascinated.

"So, tell me," voices Remus conversationally, "if you never went back to football, what would you
do instead?" Remus looks at Sirius when he doesn't immediately receive a response and his eyes
widen slightly. "Sorry, didn't mean that the way it sounded. Of course you're going back if that's
what you want. I was just…I dunno, really. Curious what other aspirations you might have. Since
you were asking about my career choice earlier."

Sirius blinks, trying to remember what he'd ever considered doing with his life before football had
taken over. Had he ever had dreams beyond what his family had tried to force down his throat with
their corrupt business ventures?

"I…don't know," replies Sirius slowly, suddenly feeling very empty. "Football's been my focus
 since I was fifteen. Before that, I guess, but that's when it started looking like more than just a
game for fun." Sirius pauses, rolls it around in his head a bit. "I wouldn't actually have to do
anything if I didn't want to. I don't spend much of my salary, shockingly, being an enigma and all."

He offers Remus a teasing grin, but it fades quickly, settling into something deeper. "My uncle left
me a sizable inheritance when he passed when I was seventeen. I've never touched it, but between
savings and that, I could live comfortably for the rest of my life."

Remus studies him calculatingly. "That must be nice, having a safety net like that," he says
genuinely. "But there must be something you'd want to do with your free time."

"Dunno," mumbles Sirius. "I like working on my bike when I have time. Playing with Harry. I
really love that kid, you know? He's everything to me, him and his parents. But that can't be all
there is to life, I realize that." Sirius chews on his bottom lip as something surfaces, a long-
suppressed thought, never even really forming enough to become a dream. "Actually, that's not
true, what I said before. At one point, when I was a kid and still in school, James and I lounging in
our dorm with our mates and listening to music, I thought it would be nice to own a record shop."

"A record shop, really?" says Remus in faint surprise, his face lighting up in intrigue.

"Yeah," murmurs Sirius, the idea slowly forming again, evolving in his mind. "Like a funky one.
Old records, new ones. Chairs and sofas to sit and listen all day, talk about whatever you wanted.
Maybe even food. Games. Televisions playing videos. Posters smattered all over the walls of the
most obscure bands and artists. Just a nice, homey place, all about music, where people who really
love it can spend their time."

"That sounds…fantastic, actually," says Remus finally, a soft, appreciative smile blossoming over
his face. "I hope you get to do it someday. You'd definitely have a lifetime customer in me, I can
promise that."

"Maybe," mumbles Sirius faintly, lost in his own thoughts. "One day, maybe." It would be nice,
this idea he'd all but forgotten about, lost amid things that had always seemed more important.

The music continues to play around them, transitioning between song after song. They remain in
silence, far longer than they normally do on nights like this, lost in their own worlds, their own
musings, their own lives. It's peaceful, tranquil. Sirius is grateful for it. Far more than he'll ever
admit to anyone, even Remus Lupin currently.

Chapter End Notes

I sometimes really wish I was an artist or had any sort of artistic talent in even one
small finger. I desperately want to show you all just what Remus' office looks like in
my head, because they spend a lot of time there, and it's such a warm, comforting place
for both of them. I've tried searching for pictures that come even slightly close, but so
far I've found nothing. If anyone does find something that looks like what's described,
please, I'm begging you, let me know. I will gladly pay in extra snippets of
forthcoming chapters, or honestly, probably anything you want. I don't know why it's
so important to me, but it is.

Don't forget to find me on Tumblr. I like chatting with people, especially about our
pups.
 Warnings, Pigs, & Failures
Chapter Notes

Once again, it's not Tuesday, but I don't care. I'm off work, so here we go!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The weekend passes without much excitement. Sirius spends most of his time hobbling around the
back garden with Harry – without a crutch for most of it, he's pleased to say – playing games with
the entire family, or holing up in his room at night listening to more Longwave songs. Remus had
been right, of course. Sirius does like puzzles, but this one seems almost unsolvable with how little
he still knows about the man, though he's happy to have gained the information he has. Hearing
about Remus' mother and father had given Sirius a few more clues in the seemingly never-ending
treasure hunt.

Sunday brings with it another practice for the team that Sirius is obligated to attend. He spends it
just as he's spent every other practice since his injury: sitting on the bench with one headphone
shoved in his ear, blocking out the sound of Moody's shouting and the breathless puffing of the
team as they run back and forth over the pitch. Gideon keeps trying to catch Sirius with withering
glares whenever he's near, but Sirius ignores him for the most part, staring down at his phone
screen as though it's the most interesting thing in the entire world. He sees Gideon's face turn bright
red from the corner of his eye, and Sirius smirks.

"Think you might want to pay attention, Black?" comments Fabian, sitting down beside him after
taking a halfway rough tumble on the field. "That is what you're here for, isn't it? To keep up-to-
date on all the new plays."

Sirius glances up at him, grin spreading across his face. "Who says I'm not paying attention?" he
returns cockily. "I can multitask with the best of them, Fab." Sirius' eyes drift over the other man,
watching as Fabian massages at his elbow. "All right? That looked like a nasty fall."

Fabian raises his eyebrows in mild surprise, huffing a quiet laugh. "Consider me proven wrong," he
mutters. "It's fine. Moody's overreacting. You know how he is." He looks sideways at Sirius.
"Definitely not as bad as yours was, Sirius. How's the knee?"

"It's getting there," replies Sirius, sticking his leg out straight in front of him and bending it down
as much as the brace will allow. Fabian hums in approval. "I can walk on it now, sometimes
without that bloody crutch, which is phenomenal, let me tell you. Those things are a nightmare and
a half. I'm less worried about my knee now and more so about my armpits. They'll never be the
same."

Fabian chuckles in his soft, reserved way, and Sirius realizes, though not for the first time, that the
other man has a very comforting presence. He's completely opposite to his overbearing brother in
nearly every way. While Gideon is hot-headed with a short fuse, Fabian is calm, considering,
taking in all aspects of a situation before deciding the best course of action or reply to something, a
fuse as long as the Thames. Barely anything ignites him.

As if summoned by Sirius' thoughts, Gideon comes sprinting past them at the edge of the pitch, his
eyes shifting over his brother in concern before settling on Sirius, his mouth and nose sneering up
slightly. Fabian grunts beside Sirius.

"You've really fucked that up royally, you do realize, don't you?" says Fabian conversationally as
his brother streaks out of earshot. He turns to look at Sirius fully. "He was out for blood before
because he thinks you're better than him, and you are, but now…he's nearly unbearable. If I
thought his bloody huge shoulders would fit, I would have stuffed him inside a wardrobe and left
him there by now."

Sirius snorts, but Fabian doesn't look amused. "You teased him with that magic cock of yours – his
ranting words, not mine. Don't mistake me for someone cares one single bit about what's between
your thighs – and then you all but fell out of the game. Pretty much literally. You showed him
exactly what he wanted, both with you and without you. But now you're here, sitting just out of
reach, keeping everything he wants just out of his grasp, and he's fucking furious, practically
salivating over it all.

"You and I both know I'm capable of talking him down ninety percent of the time," continues
Fabian, still stoic, voice holding an edge of harsh warning, "but that still leaves a sizable fraction
where I can't control him. Once Gid sets his mind to something, not much can sway him."

Sirius watches Frank as the man trails from side to side in front of the net of the goal, eyes focused
and waiting for the next setup. "He'll get over it," mutters Sirius, wanting the conversation to be
finished.

"You don't know him like I do," Fabian nearly snaps, drawing Sirius' attention again. "Don't
underestimate him. Gideon will do whatever he thinks necessary to get what he wants. You need to
watch yourself, Sirius. I can't keep my eyes on him at all times."

A chill climbs up Sirius' spine that he tries to ignore. His eyes narrow at Fabian. "What the fuck do
you think he's going to do, Fab?" he demands. "Break my leg? A little late for that, isn't it?"

Fabian's mouth pulls into a tight line, something intangible and fleeting flashing over his green
eyes, so much brighter than his brother's. Gideon's almost look like muddy grass, tampered with
and unclean. Fabian's are like new growth. It suits their personalities.

"Just watch your back, Sirius," he says quietly, warning still thick in his voice, accompanied by
something else that sounds almost like worry or deeply hidden fear. "He might try to break you."

Fabian falls silent after that, gaze turning back to their teammates as he starts rubbing his elbow
again. Sirius scans the pitch, eyes tracking Gideon as he darts across its length. Fabian's words of
caution flood through his head, piercing like acid coated daggers into his mind, but Sirius shakes it
off, returning his attention to his phone.

--------------------

On Monday, Sirius' thoughts are still trained on Fabian's warning. He hadn't said anything to Lily
or James about it, not wanting to raise their concern, especially James', not after everything the
man had already had to say about the situation. Sirius is distracted as he steps into Remus' office,
but Remus' obvious happiness at seeing him and his easy-going smile banishes the thoughts from
Sirius' head almost instantly.

They spend their time in the Playroom, just as they've done three days a week since Sirius first
began seeing Remus. The room isn't nearly as daunting now as it once had been, the machines
around him just simple machines instead of sinister looking torture devices. The space is almost
soothing, maybe not as much as Remus' office, still Sirius' favorite room within the building, but
calming all the same. It's never crowded with people, hardly anyone ever in there with them except
Peter or Marlene on certain occasions, but they always keep their distance with their own patients,
working around the room like an over-rehearsed dance, flowing fluidly.

Halfway through their session, Remus apologizes and reluctantly excuses himself to a pressing
meeting with another patient, something he explains he hadn't been able to push off or adjust to
when Sirius wouldn't be there. Sirius waves him off, telling him it's fine, and Remus leaves him
with Marlene as Peter is currently occupied with someone else.

Sirius had met the woman during his second week. Remus had been right, because Remus always
seems to be right about everything. Sirius likes her a lot. She is punky, small and petite but with
hands nearly as strong and firm as Remus' own, as though he'd been training her properly. She's got
long blonde hair hanging to her mid-back, the ends spiky and razor cut, colored purple today,
though Sirius has noticed she changes it often. The first time he'd met her, the ends had been a
bright, radiating, blinding orange. Piercings line both of her ears and several places over her face,
her eyes always painted in bright shades and dark lines.

Marlene's personality meshes well with Remus' and Peter's, along with Sirius' own. She gives back
as much as she takes, sarcastic, jabbing comments flying between them like sparring matches,
leaving Sirius winded at times and full of excess energy. She takes Sirius' overexuberant flirting in
stride, teeth baring like a wolf's when he says something truly awful and cringe-worthy, mocking
comments soaring over her tongue without hesitation.

"C'mon, Black, you can do better than that, can't you?" she eggs him on now as Sirius bends his
knee under the force of the band wrapped tightly between his fingers and over his wrists, the curve
of it looped around the bottom side of his foot.

Marlene sometimes lingers over Remus' shoulder when they're in the Playroom and she has nothing
else to do, pushing Sirius, rattling him a bit, but only ever as much as she seems to know he can
take. She has a knack for it, Sirius has come to learn, knowing when to drive and when to stop and
relent. Remus never admonishes her, seeming to realize this, too, understanding that she'll never
make Sirius go further than he's capable of pressing himself.

Sirius grits his teeth, pulling the band a little tighter, bending his knee slightly further under the
strain. There's a burn surging through his muscles and joint, but it's not overwhelming, more
satisfying, like he can feel the progress being made.

"Funny," he mutters, eyes fixing on her as he bends his leg again.

"What's that?" queries Marlene, cocking her head to the side in mock curiosity, playful pity
flashing over her features. "How large of whinger you are, you mean?"

"No," replies Sirius, grunting under his breath as he pulls the band even tighter. He grins at her
wickedly. "Just wondering if you're repeating what Dorcas said to you last night?"

"Oh!" she cries, blue eyes widening in challenge, painted red lips spreading to show dazzling white
teeth. "He's got jokes and ridicule now! Think you're ready for the big leagues, do you? You hear
that, Petey? Black thinks he's ready to move up from the ickle baby class!"

Peter looks up from the man he's working with, laughing softly and shaking his head. "Sorry,
Marls, you're not getting me involved in this one," he says in amusement. "Remus will skin me
alive and use me for wall art, you know he will. Sirius is his pet project. I'm not pushing that
button."
"Pet project!" exclaims Sirius indignantly, ignoring the spreading warmth blossoming through his
chest at the words. "I am no one's pet!"

Marlene frowns. "Aren't you?" she says, suddenly very serious, her eyes glinting impishly. "Remus
says you're basically a dog, that you’ve admitted as much yourself. Makes you a pet in my book."

"Only where it counts," retorts Sirius, smirking. "Between the sheets of a very large bed. Like a
rabid beast."

"Hmm," hums Marlene with real interest, most of her teasing now gone. "Can't say Remus ever
mentioned that bit of information. I'd think he'd be highly curious. It's far better than you being
compared to an actual dog, all this business of Padfoots not withstanding."

Sirius begins to smile, but it falters as the words register.

"Marlene," calls Peter suddenly, expression still schooled in pleasantness but something like
warning flashing through his eyes, "come help me for a minute, will you?"

Marlene wanders away, eyes drifting over Sirius as she goes, leaving him standing, leg still
extended within the band, musing over her comment. Peter excuses himself from the man in front
of him for a moment as him and Marlene walk to the other side of the room and another piece of
equipment. They look as though they're working with it, maybe calibrating it for Peter's next set of
exercises, but their heads are pushed together, and Peter is muttering to Marlene, faint hisses of
sound reaching Sirius' ears, though he can hear nothing concrete.

Sirius' eyes narrow in. Peter is very clearly reprimanding Marlene now for something, the girl's
shoulders slumping a little. What Sirius can hear of Peter's voice remains gentle, his eyes more
concerned and guarding than harsh and scolding, but the whole encounter raises Sirius' curiosity
higher. It had been an odd sort of thing to say, Marlene's comment, sort of like the one Remus had
made that night weeks ago in the machine room.

As they turn around and Marlene heads back in Sirius' direction, Sirius resumes his repetition with
the band around his foot. Marlene studies him with a critical air as she approaches.

"Good to see you didn't stop," she voices in modest praise. "Maybe you're not as hopeless as I
initially thought, Black."

Sirius nods his head toward the other side of the room. "Everything all right?"

"Hmm?" hums Marlene, raising her eyebrows as she follows his motion. "Oh. Yeah, fine. Just
some equipment malfunction. Nothing to worry about."

Sirius' eyes shift over her, pausing in he exercises and letting his leg relax for a minute. "What you
said about Remus before, what did you mean?" he asks, unable to fight away the curiosity.

Marlene's face shutters, closing in on itself. "Nothing, Sirius," she replies lightly. "I was just
poking fun. It didn't mean anything."

"You know," grumbles Sirius, scowling deeply, "it seems like every time someone around here
says something odd that I can't make sense of, the excuse is always pushed off on to teasing, but
I'm beginning to think that's a load of shite. A clever guise, or so you lot seem to think, but I'm
seeing through it. You meant something with it."

Marlene's red lips pull into a tight line as she rolls her eyes. "Maybe it is and maybe I did," she
admits vaguely. She exhales an exaggerated sigh as her gaze settles back on him. "What Remus
chooses to reveal about himself and his friends are his choices and no one else's." She says it
almost flatly, like a well-rehearsed script. Sirius' eyes shift over to Peter, who's immersed back in
with the other man as though nothing had happened at all. Sirius frowns. "We don't push. He
doesn't like it."

"Push what?" demands Sirius, feeling frustration rise again at being so close to an answer for
something he doesn't even know the question to yet, just to be denied all over again.

Marlene shakes her head and nudges his knee gently with her hand. "C'mon, Black," she prompts.
"I know you've got more in you. Let's get on with it. We've got to get you back to your bloody
boring game."

Sirius' frown deepens as he considers protesting, but he only huffs out a frustrated breath of air and
tightens the band around his foot again. He works his knee slowly at first, building up to more
flexibility just as Remus had advised him every time they'd done this. Marlene coaches him
through it, though it's become second nature after so many weeks of the same thing, her biting,
snide comments returning as they sink back into their normal jesting.

His knee is bending three-quarters of the way back at this point in his treatment, which Sirius
thinks is probably remarkable, all things considered. Remus really is a miracle worker, and Sirius
gets a bit lost in the thought until Marlene is back in front of him, homing in with a testing smirk.

"That all you got, Black?" she prods. "You can do better than that. Bend it, come on. Show me
what you can do."

"Fuck, you want me to snap it in half, McKinnon?" says Sirius, gritting his teeth and forcing his
leg back just a little further. Marlene beams, eyes brightening as she watches him. "It won't go
much further than that."

"Whinger," scoffs Marlene, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her hip out.

"Your face is a whinger," mutters Sirius under his breath, unable to come up with anything better.

"Oh! Another one bites the dust!" crows Marlene smugly. "Shit, where's Queen when you need
'em?" She pats down around her hips. "Bugger. No phone."

Sirius glares at her as she smirks, but then the song starts playing beside them, a low chuckle
accompanying the sounds. Sirius glances over to see Remus standing off to the side, phone laying
in the palm of his slightly outstretched hand, the other tucked into his pocket in a casual, easy
stance.

"Having fun, I see," he comments.

The band slips out of Sirius' slackening grip in his distraction, one end slapping sharply across the
skin of his bare calf. "Fucking ow," he sputters out in surprise, though his gaze still doesn't leave
Remus.

"Careful," warns Remus, eyes concerned but filled with a generous amount of amusement. "Those
things have a nasty bite."

"No shit, Sherlock," mutters Sirius, bending to soothe his fingers over the abused flesh. "Fucking
hell."

"Shouldn't have let go, should you have?" mocks Marlene good-naturedly even as she crouches
down to examine Sirius' leg. "You'll survive. You're just a baby. I knew it from the beginning."
"You know," drawls Sirius, gazing down at her scornfully, "these elastic devil bands of yours aren't
the only things with a bite." He snaps his teeth together teasingly.

"Oh, kinky." Marlene stands again, mirth glinting in her eyes. "Sirius, luv," she murmurs, two
fingers, nails sharp and painted dark crimson, clutching the sides of his chin, "you'd be taking more
than you could ever possibly chew and swallow down. You couldn't handle me, sweetheart."

Sirius grins. "You obviously don't know me very well," he retorts. "You'd be surprised what I can
swallow."

Marlene's mouth drops open in wide, gaping smile, her eyes widening comically. Sirius hears a
choking noise over the music playing next to them and turns to see Remus half laughing, half
sputtering, like he'd nearly swallowed his tongue at Sirius' comment. Sirius' eyebrows raise, his
grin broadening.

Marlene snorts, finally releasing her grip on Sirius' chin and stepping back. "Think you may have
killed the boss," she supplies offhandedly. "Good going, Sirius."

"All right, I think that's enough for the day," mutters Remus, finally regaining control of himself.
"Christ. I can't let you two work together ever again. Bad things happen, and apparently at my
expense."

"Only for you, Lupe-de-loop," says Sirius sweetly.

Remus rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he stows his phone and advances forward, carefully
unwrapping the other end of the band from Sirius' wrist and fingers, keeping Sirius' skin and
remaining dignity safe. "Once again, you miss the mark on the nickname, Padfoot," attests Remus
with a small smirk. "Maybe you should consult your friend James. Seems he's better at this naming
thing."

"What's this about nicknames?" speaks up Marlene. "Remus already has one."

"No, I don't," counters Remus, his tone light and fluid, though his eyes are suddenly sharp as they
fix on the girl.

"Yes, you do," insists Marlene, oblivious to Remus' muttered warning of her name as she barrels
on. "It's – "

"That's right, he does," interjects Peter as him and the other man pass by, pausing by their little
group. "It's Romulus. I've been calling him that since first year at uni. He hates it."

Sirius watches as Remus' gaze shifts to Peter, thinking he sees something grateful flash in their
brown depths, but he can't be certain because it's gone as soon as it rises. Marlene looks a bit taken
back and confused, but she remains silent, her mouth pressed firmly closed. Sirius' brow furrows at
the offered name in bafflement.

"Romulus?" he questions in puzzlement. "That's…odd."

Remus sighs heavily, the sound thick with contempt. "Leave it to this sod to come up with
something so obvious and hideous at the same time," says Remus, though it's clear he's jesting.
Peter smirks as the man he's with laughs at their conversation. Remus glances at Sirius and smiles
when he sees that Sirius still looks befuddled. "It's from the old myth. Remus and Romulus."

Sirius only shrugs his shoulders, still uncertain to what Remus is referring. The man's smile softens
a bit as he wraps the elastic band in tight loops around his hand.
"It's about the founding of Rome," explains Remus. "It's said that the twins Remus and Romulus
were abandoned by their mother, but were cared for by a she-wolf until someone found them and
took them in. They went on to found the city of Rome, Romulus eventually creating the Roman
Kingdom after he killed his brother." Sirius' eyes widen and Remus releases a burst of laughter,
waving it away. "That part's not important. My mother had an odd sense of humor. Lupin is
derived from lupus in Latin. It literally translates to wolf. Mum thought it would be hilarious,
essentially naming her only son Wolf Wolf."

Remus shakes his head in wistful amusement, his eyes shifting back to Peter. "Pete thinks it's a
riot," he grumbles good-naturedly, brown irises glinting with fondness and affection as he stares at
his friend. "Never lets me live it down."

"Nope," agrees Peter proudly, "and I never will, mate."

Peter and the man in his company laugh as they stroll away across the room. Remus smiles as he
watches them leave before turning back to Sirius.

"Ready to go?" he asks, pleasant mask falling back into place, covering any other real expression.
Sirius doesn't understand it, feels like the man is hiding something from him, disappointment
growing that he tries to force back down. "I think I saw Lily's car out front when I was leaving my
office."

"Yeah, all right," agrees Sirius, trying to keep his voice from sounding disjointed and out of place.

He bids a still silent and pensive Marlene farewell and then follows Remus to his office to gather
his things. Remus watches Sirius as he winds his brace back around his leg, the man leaning back
against the wall beside the door, face pinched for some reason Sirius doesn't understand.

"How was your meeting?"

Remus blinks at the question, seeming to come back to himself, his mouth pulling down into a
small frown. "Didn't go very well, actually," he admits, a reluctant edge to his tone. Sirius frowns
up at him from where he's bent over fighting with the straps of his brace. Remus shrugs one
shoulder. "They weren't happy with how little progress they've made. To be fair, they were warned
in the beginning that the prognosis didn't look very bright, but I was still doing everything I could.
They did make progress, but they thought it should have been more. Decided to seek treatment
elsewhere."

"That sounds like a bit of an early jump," replies Sirius slowly as he ponders the absurdity of the
unknown person's decision. "Is there even anyone else out there better than you?"

"Probably not," murmurs Remus demurely, not a hint of boasting in his voice. "At least not in the
London area or even far beyond it. But that's how these things go sometimes. I don't like it much,
allowing someone to leave because they're dejected, but I'll never stop them if the fight I give in
return isn't enough to sway them to try again. Because I do fight, Sirius. I fight for everyone when
it's important. And everyone here is important."

Sirius nods. "Most people wouldn't look at it like that, you know," he says. Remus opens his mouth
to protest, but Sirius grins, stopping him short. "But you're not most people. I know, Remus. I
remember."

Remus settles back against the wall, body relaxing a little. A curious expression passes over his
face, his eyes narrowing a bit, one corner of his mouth pulling out in a not quite smile, not quite
frown. The pleasant mask is firmly gone now, disappeared as soon as they reached the safety of
Remus' office, alone without other prying eyes, the times when it vanishes the most.

"Sirius Black," he murmurs contemplatively, gaze shifting over Sirius' form as he latches the brace
in place and straightens to full height, "enigma within an enigma. I don't think I'll ever fully
understand you."

"Good," returns Sirius, stomach fluttering a bit around the edges at the warm tone in Remus' voice.
"Where would be the fun in that?"

Remus shakes his head, not replying, odd expression still in place on his features. Sirius grabs his
jacket, swinging it over his shoulders and slipping his arms inside the sleeves. Remus watches him
but still says nothing.

"See you tomorrow, Remus," supplies Sirius as he walks past the other man to the door.

"Yeah," says Remus quietly, "see you tomorrow, Sirius. Don't forget your trunks. Pool day."

Sirius promises he won't as he pulls the door open, Remus holding it in place as Sirius limps his
way out. Sirius can feel the man's eyes on his back until he's rounding the corner and out of sight
from Remus' office.

--------------------

The next afternoon finds Sirius and Remus once more submerged in the pool. A couple weeks
prior, Remus had began bringing a portable speaker with him, once he'd learned that his and Sirius'
music tastes didn't differ very much. It plays now through the empty room, the sounds echoing off
the tiled walls around them.

There's never anyone else here when they come, Remus obviously reserving specific times every
week for this very activity. Sirius sometimes wonders about the other people Remus most certainly
brings to this space. Are there many of them? Do they all play in the water with the man, sit along
the edges when they're finished and chat in soft voices, laughter flowing over the water until it's
muffled away? A very large part of Sirius hopes not, liking the thought of these moments with
Remus reserved only for Sirius, though he knows that's foolish and even slightly childish, like a kid
being possessive over a shared toy.

They're less than halfway through their time, their escapades having devolved into less physio and
more them simply racing back and forth across the expansive pool – though Sirius thinks that may
be the point in all this, sneaky creature as is Remus Lupin – when the music cuts off and Remus'
mobile begins ringing, blaring over the speakers at a deafening volume.

"Shit," curses Remus, diving beneath the water and swimming to the edge of the pool quickly. He
pulls himself up and out with very little effort, something that still astounds Sirius. Sirius is in good
shape, knows he is. He has to be to do what he does, sprinting over a pitch for the majority of his
life. People tell him all the time how gorgeous he is, so he never really forgets it, even when the
compliments and praise sometimes become too much, even for him. But while Sirius is fit, Remus
is fit; sturdy, solid, muscles defined under the loose clothing he wears, veins standing out in sharp
contrast, nearly immeasurable strength. It's enough to make Sirius' entire body weak with just a
thought.

Remus dries his hands quickly and then grabs his phone, disconnecting it from the speaker before
answering. "Hallo, 'Merta," he greets and then falls into a conversation as Sirius lazily backstrokes
his way around the pool, trying not to actively eavesdrop. It's a difficult thing, though, Remus'
voice echoing off the walls and amplifying it, sending it back to Sirius' ears easily.
"Ah, that's a bleeding shame. Hope you wished her well." Remus pauses and then laughs softly.
"Yes, yes. I know you did. Of course I know that, 'Merta. You're an excellent person. So back next
week then, she thinks?" He stops again, listening to Rosmerta's chirping voice on the other side of
the connection. It's a longer pause this time, Remus beginning to frown slightly, corners of his
mouth turning down just a little, and Sirius is curious. Also, maybe a little worried. "Really,
nothing? No one was able…?"

Sirius stops listening as Remus trails off, dunking his head under the water and allowing himself to
slowly sink to the bottom of the pool floor. He stays there as long as he can, until he hears muffled
sounds, louder than what Remus was making during his conversation. There's a ripple in the water,
and Sirius turns his head to see Remus beneath the surface, swimming toward him. Sirius grins,
large air bubbles escaping from his mouth as Remus wraps a hand around his elbow and pulls him
back to the surface.

"Trying to drown yourself?" asks Remus in amusement as Sirius spits water from his still grinning
mouth and pushes small strands of hair from his face that have escaped the messy knot on top of
his head.

"Nah, I'm saving that for after I turn thirty," jokes Sirius, grin widening as Remus bursts out with a
shocked laugh. "Just trying not to eavesdrop if I could help it."

Remus rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Like that matters," he mutters. "If it had been that
private, I would have taken it to the hall or the changing room. Though I can't really think of
anything I'd never want overheard by you."

Sirius very nearly drops back to the bottom of the pool at the admission, but Remus doesn't seem to
notice his surprise, simply barreling forward. "My last appointment of the day got cancelled. The
woman is ill, so she'll be gone for roughly a week. The appointment usually reserved for after you
belonged to the person I lost yesterday. Rosmerta wasn't able to fill it on such short notice. So, it
looks like you're last on my list for the day, Sirius."

"How lucky for me," comments Sirius, smiling at the other man.

Remus releases a chuckle, a small sound, muffled by the water around them. His eyes shift over
Sirius as though briefly considering something before he says, "Do you want to stay with me?"

Forever very nearly falls from between Sirius' lips, the word already forming on his tongue before
he manages to stop it just in time. He blinks sharply at the sudden onslaught of things one small
word is building inside him. Sirius looks down at the water, frowning slightly in confusion.

Remus interprets his expression and silence differently, hastening to add to his earlier question,
"You don't have to, of course. I just…well, I had an idea. It's not something I usually do yet, but
you've exceeded most of my expectations so far, so I don't see why this would be any different.
Moving it up a couple weeks shouldn't hurt. I'll have to go back to the office for a bit later, but I
can take you home after."

Sirius jerks his head back up. "Yes!" he cries with too much enthusiasm, his voice reverberating off
the walls sharply. Remus' eyes widen in amusement at Sirius' reaction. Sirius calms himself and
tries again, angling for a more natural tone. "Yeah, no. Yeah, 'course I'd like that. Sounds good.
What did you have in mind?"

Remus only smiles.

--------------------
"What the fuck is this?" demands Sirius, looking around at their surroundings in mild horror.
"Remus. Remus, no. This is something little kids do with Mummy and Daddy. You bring your
grandmother here so she can hush her prattling for a bit and focus on something else. Awkward
first dates come here, never realizing how much of a disaster it'll be because just…no. Absolutely
not."

Remus is laughing, nearly bending over double the longer Sirius babbles on. Sirius isn't as amused,
his eyes wide with exaggerated panic.

As Remus calms himself a little, he straightens, looking over at Sirius, eyes glistening with tears of
mirth. "It's not that bad, Sirius," he tries to convince. "I come here a lot. It's good therapy."

"No," moans out Sirius. "No, Remus. Why would you say that? Why would you tell me that? All
cool points gained up until now are gone. Your music tastes, cool points gone. Your wardrobe,
points gone. Your car with it's bloody auxiliary cord, fucking gone."

Remus arches an eyebrow in faint surprise. "I gained cool points for my car and cord?"

"Doesn't matter. They're gone now!" Sirius is very nearly raging. He's aware he's overacting
slightly. Okay, more than slightly. But really? This?

"They're just pedal boats, Sirius," says Remus far more calmly than Sirius has the scope of mind or
brain power to understand.

Sirius gapes at him, his eyes shifting around their surroundings again. It had started fine, he
remembers. They'd left the pool once they'd finished and Remus had driven them away from the
building and through the streets of London. But then he'd kept going, on and on until they were
outside the city and Sirius had wondered if they would ever reach their destination. When they
finally had, Remus parking the car and climbing out, Sirius had remained, blinking in confusion
through the slightly grubby windshield because hadn't they just left the water? Why trade one for
the other? Also, it's the beginning of November. It is cold. Sirius was not swimming in an outdoor
lake. Remus had gone mental; Sirius just hadn't yet realized how mental.

They are indeed at a lake, an expansive area of browning grass and baren trees stretching around
them in the vague semblance of a park. There's a large children's play set off in the distance
surrounded by a sand pit on all sides for safety. At the opposite end and sprinkled throughout the
space are several clusters of sheltered areas, wooden beams supporting metal roofs over concrete
slabs set into the ground, rickety wooden tables arranged in neat rows within. It's a little
depressing, a little jarring, seeming to Sirius like none of it really belongs in a place that during
warmer months would probably be a very beautiful and peaceful coupling of scenery.

And then, right in the center of it all, there's the large expanse of lake, freezing cold and
shimmering in the rare sunshine beaming down on their heads and backs. Bobbing at the bank's
edge above the surface of the glittering, rippling water are the fucking multi-colored pedal boats,
just waiting for them to climb inside. Sirius scowls at them, a duck at the front side of one staring
him down.

Sirius crosses his arms over his chest stubbornly. "You cannot even bribe me to do this," he
mutters grievously.

Remus' eyebrow cocks up on his forehead again, his eyes flashing something challenging.
"Really?" he says thoughtfully. "Bet I can. What do you want?"

I want to take you over behind that tree, run my mouth and tongue over your neck, bite into skin,
shove my hand down the front of your pants, thinks Sirius to himself before huffing in frustration.
Shut the fuck up, Black.

"Nothing you'd willingly give," mumbles Sirius, eyes raking over Remus before he forces himself
to stop and look out over the water.

He sees Remus tilt his head from the corner of his eye, the man smirking at him. "Try me," he
prods. "I might surprise you."

Doubtful, screams Sirius' mind before he silences it again. "Fine," he groans out, dropping his arms
from his chest and turning to face Remus fully. "I want a treat when we're finished. Don't care
what, but something sweet. I think I'll have earned it." He glances back at the pedal boats. "And I
want the sea monster." Remus smiles.

They don't get the sea monster. Apparently – surprises among surprises – it's currently broken.
Instead, the surly man at the dock lines up another animal for them, the one closest and easiest to
snag. Sirius is thoroughly unimpressed.

"This is absurd," he grumbles once they're away from the dock and nearing the midpoint of the
lake. He'd managed to stay mostly quiet until they were out of earshot of the man before he'd
began muttering under his breath. Remus is pedaling along with him, helping Sirius steer but
mainly leaving the actual work up to Sirius, trying to strengthen his knee further. "We don't get the
sea monster, all right, fine. I can accept it. I'm fluid." He sees Remus glance at him in disbelief and
Sirius scowls at him. "I am. But does he give us a duck or swan or even a bloody goose? No. No
fucking bird for us! That would be too logical. Instead, we get a pig. A fucking pig, Remus. How
does that make any sense? Who thought it was a good idea to turn a pedal boat into a bleeding pig?
Can pigs even swim?"

Remus is obviously fighting back laughter again as he answers contemplatively, "I think so. I'm
fairly certain they're marvelous swimmers, actually, but I'm not positive. Have to look it up."

Sirius side-eyes him in disdain. "You're gaining far too much enjoyment from this entire ordeal," he
drawls. "I can see it. I can hear it. Me, on the other hand, I am not finding satisfaction in any of
this, so I'm amending my earlier request to your bribery."

"That's not how this works!" protests Remus through a wobbling laugh. "You're already out here.
What are you going to do, jump out and swim back to shore? I doubt that very much."

"This isn't just about today, though, is it?" says Sirius cockily, leaning back in his seat and gazing
at Remus as they continue to pedal their way around the lake in lazy zigzags. "You plan to bring
me back here, use it just like the pool. That's going to take more than a one-off sweet to persuade
me to ever do this again."

Remus sighs and throws his head back against the plastic seat. "It won't be for long," he grudgingly
admits. "This is more of a steppingstone to other things that'll help you more, but we have to build
you up to it, same as we've been doing with the swimming. But fine. What do you want?"

"I want a prize," states Sirius smugly. Remus raises his head to look at him oddly. "When I finally
figure out what your favorite song is, I want a prize. I don't care what it is. That's your choice if you
want it, but you had better make it good and worthwhile or I will ask for a refund or exchange."

All signs of amusement have faded from Remus' features as he continues to stare at Sirius. His feet
have stopped pedaling his side of the boat and they're now simply spinning in circles through the
water beneath them, sending ripples out in wide, flawless arches.
"What makes you think you'll want anything from me if you find it?" questions Remus quietly,
face guarded and closed off again. Sirius frowns at the sudden shift in mood within the small boat.

"When I find it," reiterates Sirius pointedly. "And why wouldn't I want anything from you?"

Remus looks away from him then, turning to gaze at the opposite side of the lake, hiding his face
from Sirius' view and observing eye. Sirius' frown deepens. Remus is hiding something, Sirius
knows he is, can feel it and sense it like a splinter buried under the skin, catching and snagging on
things constantly but too deeply imbedded to work itself out. Sirius desperately wants to know
what it is that keeps bogging Remus down, but he has no idea how to even begin to hazard a guess
as to what it may be.

"All right," says Remus finally, turning to look back at Sirius. His face is pinched, eyes creasing
faintly around the edges, wary lines slicing into delicate skin at their corners. "If and when you
figure it out, you can have whatever you want. I'll give it, and I'll try not to fight back against it."

Sirius knows he should feel victorious and overjoyed because hasn't he won the game? But the
way Remus says the words only leaves him feeling empty, like he's floating out to sea, trapped on
his back, nothing and no one around to rescue him, to save him from the churning driving him
outwards and away. The words and tone around them make Sirius feel ill, faded out to muted
greys, the world around him dulling to monotone.

"Right," mumbles Sirius roughly, something sharp lodged in his throat. Remus is looking ahead of
them again, resuming his pedaling and turning their boat back to a straighter line. Sirius is
beginning to think that maybe he doesn't want to find that song after all.

They aimlessly pedal around the surface of the lake in mostly silence for another half hour before
they make their way back to shore. The man at the dock ties the boat to one of the anchor points
and they clamber out, Remus first and then Sirius so that Remus can help pull him up, the pig's
bright pink snout mocking them as they move. Sirius waits until the dock man's back is turned as
he unties the rope to send the boat to the bank, and then Sirius is throwing the pig a two-finger
salute.

"Fucking pig," he mutters under his breath as they step back into the grass from the wooden dock.
"Still makes no sense to me."

Remus chuckles faintly beside him, finally seeming to come back to himself. Sirius settles a little,
the churning inside calming at the soft sound. Remus nudges Sirius' side with his elbow, motioning
to a shabby building screaming Monty's Café in faded lettering opposite the lake across a small
two-lane stretch of road.

"Think you can make it or should we drive?" asks Remus curiously.

Sirius tests his knee beneath him. He hadn't brought his crutch today, trying for his first full day
without it. So far he's done well, but the café is a bit of a walk from where they are currently.

"Think I'll be all right," says Sirius after a pause. "Just, you know, let's take it slow."

Remus' lips twitch up in a faint smile as they begin walking over the grass toward the café. "Do
you even know what the word slow means, Sirius Black?" he asks teasingly.

"'Course I do!" exclaims Sirius with mock indignation. "Means run not sprint. Least that's what
Moody says."

"Footballers," mumbles Remus, rolling his eyes, though he's chuckling in amusement. "You're all
insane."

"And just how many footballers have you known to make that conclusion?" demands Sirius, hand
settling on his hip in a show of mock outrage.

Remus looks at him slyly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would, actually," counters Sirius easily. "Need to know how I stack up against them, don't I? Am
I better? What am I saying? Of course I'm better!"

"In every way, Sirius," murmurs Remus, no longer looking at him but staring ahead to the
gradually approaching road in front of them. Sirius glances at him but doesn't say anything in reply,
that warm, glowing feeling settling back into the empty spaces of his chest.

They continue walking in companionable silence. When they near the road, there's a steeper incline
in the grass they have to mount to make it to the asphalt. Sirius struggles a bit halfway up,
eventually stumbling, his knee trying to give way beneath him. He nearly falls to the ground, but
Remus' hands are suddenly there, one gripping at his arm while the other slots itself around Sirius'
waist.

"Thanks," says Sirius gratefully as he regains his balance and relocks his knee under his weight.

"Told you I wouldn't let you fall," responds Remus, his smile soft and mesmerizing as he watches
Sirius to make sure he's stable before he releases the grip on his waist. Sirius almost protests at the
loss, but Remus keeps his other hand firmly around Sirius' arm, so he bites it back and accepts what
he has.

They make their way across the road, watching for cars as they go, though there's really not that
much traffic this far outside the city. When they reach the café, Sirius settles down on a bench in
front of the building while Remus ventures inside to assess the offerings. Sirius stretches out both
his legs across the ground, body pushing forward and elongating, back twitching in relief as he
throws his head down against the back of the bench.

It's a nice day for early November, the normal gloomy and overcast sky, usually hanging heavy
with rain, is mostly clear, white clouds floating along lazily, the sun shining down between them.
There's still a chill in the air, the breeze not helping in that regard, but the warmth from the sun
eases it away a little.

Sirius cracks his eyes open and peers around for a moment. The café isn't nearly as shabby up close
as it had appeared from the distance, almost like it had been modeled that way instead of falling
into disrepair with age. There's a rustic charm to it, a homey feel, like sitting in a garden. There's
potted trees and flowers scattered about, some dark grey painted planters setting on either side of
the bench Sirius is inhabiting, blooms within red and gold in color. They smell nice, the breeze
wafting the scent past Sirius' nose along with the sweeter smells coming from within the café.

Sirius closes his eyes again, lounging in the middle of it all, oblivious to anything else around him.
He feels like the Potters' cat, draping idly over their garden wall in the summer months, soaking up
the heat like the lazy, ineffectual beast it is. Sirius sometimes likes to bark at it when he passes by,
just for spite, just to see if he can garner a rise. Mostly the cat ignores him in moments like that.

A voice suddenly pulls him from his wandering thoughts when it says, "Biscuit?"

Sirius opens his eyes again and he can only blink for a moment. Remus is standing over him, smile
spreading across his face as he stares down at Sirius. The sun is just behind his head, making his
hair and face glow like something ethereal. His eyes trail down, following the path of Remus'
outstretched arm until his gaze settles on the bundle clutched in his offering fingers. Something
about it causes Sirius' heart to stutter in his chest in an unpleasant way, his stomach twisting
traitorously.

He pushes himself back up the bench and accepts the bundle with a mumbled thanks. Sirius tucks
his feet under the bench and leans forward over his legs a little as Remus settles down beside him,
Sirius studying what's now in his hands. It's not a bag or even a box, just a few paper napkins.
Sirius' fingers gently unwrap the bundle to reveal a stack of chocolate biscuits and his breath
catches in his throat.

"Sorry," Remus is saying beside him, though Sirius isn't paying much attention. "They didn't have
much else. Too late in the day. Sold through most of it. Apparently, they make it all fresh in the
mornings. But I figured you can't really go wrong with chocolate. I never can, at least." Remus
prattles on for a while but eventually stops, Sirius vaguely feeling the man's eyes shifting over him.
When he speaks again, his voice is softer, more gentle, pulling Sirius back to the present. "Are you
all right? You look pale, like you've seen a ghost or something. Is your knee bothering you? I can
go get the car while you wait here and pick you up so you don't have to walk again."

Sirius shakes his head. "My leg is fine, Remus. It's just – this is – " Sirius stops, releasing a heavy
sigh as he tries to wrangle his thoughts and memories into some discernible order. "You just
reminded me of something, that's all. It threw me off a bit."

Remus is quiet for a moment before he asks, "What did I remind you about?"

"D'you remember that boy I told you about? Moony?" says Sirius, finally looking over at Remus.
When the man nods, Sirius continues. "This is sort of how I met him. I snuck down to the village
one day when no one would miss me. There was this really ace sweets shop there that made all
sorts of grand things. James and I loved it and Prongs wouldn't bugger off about them once we ran
out of our stash one week. Our school-sanctioned visit wasn't for another few weeks, and I knew he
wouldn't let it rest until then, so I went down. Not really a big deal. We did it often if you can
believe that." Sirius tries to grin at Remus, but it's weak and fades quickly.

"I went to the shop and got us some chocolate biscuits. Stuffed as many into my pockets as they
would hold, all wrapped in paper napkins to keep them safe," explains Sirius quietly. "When I was
on my way back, I took the long way so I wouldn't be spotted by any of the professors once I was
back on school grounds. Rounded a corner and there he was, sitting on this low wall at the edge of
the village, away from everything else.

"I don't know what was wrong, and I'll probably never know now, but he just looked so…sad. So
down and trodden on, like the entire world was crashing down around him and he couldn't stop it.
I've never been good with that, seeing someone so dejected and forlorn, even strangers. Suppose
I've spent too much of my own life like that."

Remus is quiet beside him, eyes studying Sirius' face as he speaks, observant, understanding. He
says nothing, only listening as Sirius rambles on about the boy like it's the most important thing in
the world for them to be discussing in the moment. For Sirius, it feels like it is. Maybe Remus
senses that, so he lets Sirius continues, allows him to go on and on about this young boy Sirius
hadn't seen in more than a decade.

"I didn't really know what to do or say, but I've never been shy about putting my foot forward in
most situations, I'm sure you realize by now," says Sirius with a mild jesting tone to his voice.
Remus smiles slightly but still doesn't comment. "I just walked up to him. He never saw me, didn't
even acknowledge I existed. I pulled one of the napkins from my pocket and held it out to him,
asked him if he wanted some, basically the same exact way you just asked me. He looked
shellshocked when he saw me, like he'd never been spoken to before in his life by anyone. I
actually thought he might run away. He got all tense, shoulders bunching up, fear and flight in his
eyes, but then I opened the napkin. When he saw the chocolate, it's like he just…I dunno, melted or
something. I've never seen anything like it before in my life, the look in his eyes when he saw them
in my hand.

"So, I plopped my arse right down beside him before he could bolt away and shoved one of them
into his hand," murmurs Sirius with a fond smile. "He was absolutely stunned. Wouldn't even eat
the thing until I'd had two myself. We sat there and finished the whole lot, even the ones still in my
pockets. I made him laugh. He had a nice laugh. James was absolutely livid when I came back
without anything to show for myself. Never told him about Moony, though. Lied and told him a
stray dog had begged away the biscuits from me. Even made up a name for it. Every time I went
down to the village after that, even with James and our other mates, I managed to eventually duck
away from them and find Moony. Until one day I didn't."

Sirius frowns down at the biscuits in his hands now, the memories surging up, the panic of
searching and asking and coming back with nothing. He'd searched for a long time; months and
months until he'd finally given up. It had wrecked him, so much so that even James had eventually
noticed, even through his general obliviousness to most things back then. He'd never understood it
and Sirius had never explained. Moony had been his. His secret to keep stashed away and safe.
He's not sure why he's shared the knowledge of the odd, quiet boy with Remus, but something
about it feels right, more so than it ever had with James or any of his other friends.

"Why not tell James about him?" asks Remus finally, as though reading Sirius' thoughts, his voice
quiet, curious, head tilted slightly to the side as he continues to study Sirius.

Sirius shrugs. "Don't know, really. Just never wanted to, I guess. It always felt important to keep
him to myself. Not like I didn't want to share him, but just…Moony was someone who didn't have
anything to do with anything else. Not school or my family. He knew nothing about me. He liked
me for exactly who I was, no last name pulling me down in his eyes, no teacher's or relative's
dodgy opinions on my character or attitude or even aptitude. Just me."

Remus nods slowly, like he's processing Sirius' words with great detail and care. Then he sighs and
leans forward a little, making himself more level with Sirius. "I know you hate it, but it's not
surprising to me that you never found him or got answers about where he went," he says gently. "I
grew up in a small village, sort of like the one you've described by your school. They're close
communities, most times. They look out for their own. They're protective. Even someone as
determined as you are was probably never very likely to claw it out of them, I suspect. I'm sure
your Moony would appreciate the knowledge that you did search for him so fervently, though. I am
sorry, Sirius, that you never found him. I can tell he was important to you."

"Yeah," mumbles Sirius, thumb trailing over the edge of the top biscuit absently, his mind lost in
the past. "He really was. Still is, in a way." Sirius breaks off a piece of the biscuit but doesn't lift it
to his mouth. "He was my first kiss." He looks up at Remus then, seeing the man staring at him
with soft eyes.

"Never told anyone that, either. James thinks it was with a bird in third year, but it wasn't. It was in
the village, down an alley between two little houses. I didn't even initiate it. He just kind of nudged
me up against the wall and did it. Shocked the fuck out of me, let me tell you. I didn't know until
then that I was…well, I just didn't know. Had no idea. Hadn't ever really thought about it much,
you know. Still didn't really know after that, but with Moony…it made perfect sense. Not so much
after."
"Sounds like a good first kiss, though," says Remus with a small smile, "even if it did confuse you
after."

Sirius laughs. "It was horrible, actually," he denies. Remus' smile wobbles a bit, his eyebrows
knitting together, like he's not sure what to do with his expression. "I was awful. Just stood there,
had no idea what was happening or what to do. He wasn't the best, either. Pretty sure it was his
first, too. But it's supposed to bad, isn't it?"

"Mine wasn't," murmurs Remus, shaking his head, the smile finally falling mostly from his face,
turning minute and almost wistful. "It was awkward as fuck, but not bad. Never bad."

Sirius hums, his own smile spreading a bit. "Lucky you," he says teasingly. "I don't know, though.
No one else would consider it a good kiss, and it was absolute rubbish because of the
circumstances, but…I still think it's the best kiss I've ever had. Not because of the skill, or lack
thereof. Not because it was perfect or imperfect. Just because of the circumstances. Because of
whom it was with. That's what made it good. Made it better than any other could ever be, I think."

Remus doesn't say anything in reply, looking as though he's lost in his own thoughts. Sirius grabs
one of the biscuits in the middle of the stack, one that he hasn't pieced away from, and offers it out
to Remus. The man looks down at his hand, blinking in surprise before looking back up at Sirius
with an odd, questioning expression.

"Biscuit?" says Sirius, smile pulling high on one side of his face.

It takes a few seconds, but Remus finally chuckles, his own content smile spreading. He nods and
takes the proffered sweet. "Ta," he murmurs before biting in.

Sirius leans back against the bench again, releasing a sigh as he bites into his own biscuit. He feels
lighter now than he has in a long time, and he wonders if that's because he'd finally told someone
the real story about Moony or simply because of Remus.

"This has been a good day," admits Sirius. Remus hums in agreement. "Still don't like the pedal
boats, though. Nothing's going to change that."

Remus laughs around the chocolate filling his mouth and Sirius grins at him.

--------------------

When Sirius arrives at Remus' office the following day, he's in a good mood. Lily had made him a
large breakfast that morning, all his very favorite things, a tradition she had started directly after
they'd left school. Harry had drawn crude balloons and a sloppy gift on the skin of Sirius' arm
(which Sirius had refused to wash away, was even considering possibly turning into a tattoo
because of how much he loves it), and James had sang a very horrid version of Happy Birthday to
him from outside the bath door as Sirius had readied himself for the day (it had been set to the tune
of Bohemian Rhapsody. Sirius was not impressed).

As he enters the building, Rosmerta is on her desk phone with someone, but she smiles at him and
waves him back to Remus' office with a casual flick of her fingers. He drops a bag of sweets on her
desk as he passes, something Lily had baked the night before, and then continues his way around
the corner to Remus' door. He knocks, waits for the muffled reply, and then opens it, stepping
inside. Sirius pauses when he sees Remus leaning back against his desk, hands stuffed into his
pockets, odd expression on his face as he watches Sirius, like he's struggling to hold something
back.
"'Lo," greets Remus casually. Too casually. Sirius' eyebrows knit together.

"Hello," he says slowly. "All right, Remus?"

"'Course I am," answers Remus quickly. "What would make you think otherwise?"

"Dunno, mate. Acting a bit…strange, aren't you?"

"Am I?" says Remus. He shrugs offhandedly. "Possibly just the heat."

Sirius frowns, taking a step forward in concern. "All right, now really, what the fuck is up with
you, Remus? Are you ill or something? It's November. There's no bloody heat in the entire country
right now."

Remus suddenly grins wide and bright, eyes crinkling in the corners, taking a large step away from
his desk. Sirius is even more confused until he looks over to where Remus had been standing to see
a multiple layered chocolate cake covered in candles, all twenty-six with dancing, flickering flames
on top. Remus beams at him as Sirius gapes.

"How did you know?" he sputters out in absolute shock.

Remus shrugs again. "Saw it in your file when I first took you in. I remembered."

Sirius' mouth works but nothing ever comes out as he stares across the room at Remus. Sirius has
always loved his birthday, at least since his twelfth after he'd gone off to school a realized
birthdays could be more than stuffy family affairs attended by his parents' business partners and
children he'd never liked at all. More than fancy food that turned his stomach at the very sight of it,
more than puddings he couldn't even pronounce the names of when all he'd ever wanted was a
bloody cake.

Sirius hadn't had a birthday since his twelfth where he hadn't announced it, spread its coming far
and wide for weeks leading up to the day. He treated everyone else's birthdays just the same,
always knowing when they were, never forgetting, even for a second, making sure that the person
always felt like the most special human being on the planet on their day.

But this year had been different. Sirius had nearly forgotten his own, hadn't really remembered
until he'd woken up that morning to the sweet and savory smells of waffles, bangers, and eggs
wafting from the kitchen, Lily's humming voice trailing up the stairs as she cooked; until Harry had
come bounding into his room and clambered up on his bed, markers in hand, ready for the
challenge, green eyes dancing in happiness. And yet, somehow, for whatever reason, though Sirius
had all but banished its existence from his mind, Remus had remembered, just from seeing it
printed on a boring piece of paper stuck within an overflowing file folder.

Something hits him hard in the chest, knocking the wind from him, nearly sending him off his feet,
like he's been bludgeoned with a cricket bat. Sirius' mouth closes as he continues to stare at Remus'
happy, freckled face, glowing in the warm light from the wall of windows. Something is unfurling
within Sirius, blossoming out and trying to take root and grow larger. But then Remus is waving
his hands a bit, urging Sirius forward, breaking him from the middle of a dawning realization, not
quite letting it take hold, though he still feels unsteady, off balance, spinning in a void with a small
flicker of light at one edge.

"They're going to ruin the cake if you don't hurry," says Remus, motioning to the melting candles
covering the dark icing, beads of wax slowly trailing down their sides. Remus' expression remains
only pleased, showing no signs of true anxiety, leading Sirius to believe he cares little about the
treat's impending doom. He simply wants Sirius to have his cake.

The warmth he's become well acquainted with in Remus' presence is spreading through him again
at the knowledge. Sirius smiles and steps up to the desk, eyes skimming over the other man.

"Can't have that, can we?" says Sirius, his voice a bit shaky even to his own ears. He's still
shocked, still completely mystified by this man standing in front of him with shining, overjoyed
eyes.

"Better make a wish before they burn the whole place down, old man," teases Remus, one side of
his smile lifting higher than the other, a lopsided thing that Sirius stores away in a safe place within
his memory.

Sirius laughs breathily and leans over the cake, Remus watching him as Sirius inhales a deep breath
and tries to think of what he can possibly wish for, what he thinks would make the slightest bit of
difference in his life right now. The only thing that comes to mind, the only thing Sirius can nestle
within the safety of a silent plea, is that he just wants to know, though he's not entirely sure what he
means by that.

They don't go to the Playroom that day. In fact, they don't leave Remus' office at all in the time
Sirius is there, Remus telling him he's earned a break from being manhandled and manipulated
around like a ragdoll for the purposes of healing. Remus tells him to enjoy his birthday. So,
instead, they sit on the floor side by side, backs pressed against the front of Remus' desk. They hold
slices of cake in their hands on paper napkins and eat it with their fingers because Remus hadn't
been able to locate the plates or cutlery he'd stashed away weeks before. Sirius waves it off, telling
Remus this is better.

The pair chat about whatever crosses their minds, music wafting softly through the room as they
laugh and tease and pick at one another, like pulling apart intricately woven threads of their lives,
trying to find where each of them begins. It's no different from any other time they spend together
alone, whether in Remus' office, at the side of the pool, or in Remus' car. Except this time there's
cake.

When Sirius returns home that night, once the house is silent around him and he's laying in his bed
staring at the ceiling, he thinks this might just be the best birthday he's ever had.

--------------------

Everything falls apart on Friday, and Sirius doesn't even see it coming. Like a thief sneaking
through during the middle of the night and stealing everything he's carefully built up.

It's late; later than usual, the windows of Remus' office far past too dark to see, nearly full moon
high in the sky, grey-cast clouds drifting ominously over it's face. Sirius had insisted Remus do his
typical cleaning of the machines in the Playroom before they left so that the man wouldn't have to
come back the following day as he'd been doing for weeks now. Remus had begrudgingly agreed,
Sirius limping around the room after him, trying to help, much to Remus mostly unhidden
amusement.

Now, Sirius is sprawled out over the sofa in his office, injured leg stretched out and dangling off
the plush arm, bare foot bobbing along to the beat of the music around him. His other leg is bent at
the knee, drawn up closer to his body in the air, swaying lazily from side to side. His eyes are
closed, simply listening, mumbling along with words of any songs he knows, sometimes even
trying to guess at coming lyrics for the ones he doesn't. It amazes Sirius how Remus seems to have
an endless supply held within the confines of his phone. There's only a small amount of the songs
that he's ever heard played more than once, almost always something new streaming through the
speakers, something that hasn't been played before. It's an astounding thing.

Remus is at his desk, once again hunched over a large but steadily dwindling stack of paperwork.
His hand scribbles along with the biro so quickly that Sirius has often wondered if what he's
writing is even legible to anyone forced to read them. The thought makes him chuckle to himself.

"And just what are you finding so very funny over there?" questions Remus when he hears the
sound.

Sirius opens his eyes, letting his head loll to the side as he looks over at the other man. "Honestly?"
Remus nods at him and Sirius laughs faintly again. "Was wondering if anyone is actually able to
read your handwriting when you do whatever it is you're doing. It's got to look like someone
dipped a chicken in ink and tossed it over the page, judging from the way you scribble around."

"Oi!" protests Remus, but then he stops, looking down at his last finished page, his brow
furrowing. He lifts it up into the air, presenting it so that Sirius can see, tapping his finger by a bit
of large script. "What's that say, then?"

Sirius leans over a bit, eyes squinting as he strains to read the scrawl from a further distance than
he's used to. Then he settles back into the cushions again, stating with full confidence, "Ramshire
doodle."

Remus looks back and forth between Sirius and the upheld paper for a long moment, mouth turning
down in a slight demoralized frown. "It says Remus Lupin," he mumbles dishearteningly.

Sirius throws his head back against the sofa and laughs, full, heaving howls of sound forcing their
ways from his throat. In a brief second that his eyes manage to open through the mirth, Sirius sees
that Remus is now standing beside him, scowling down, face half in pout. The expression only
increases Sirius' laughter until it's echoing around the room, nearly drowning out the music, which
is a shame, because Sirius thinks he likes the song.

I wanna walk with you in someone's shoes, from somebody else's point of view…

"You know what?" says Remus, planting a hand on his hip, though that only serves to make Sirius
laugh harder and Remus rolls his eyes. "I think you're done."

"Please," begs Sirius breathlessly through the still continuing guffaws of sound, clutching at his
stomach. "Please, please, always make that face, Remus. Always stand exactly like that. Turn it
into stand up. You'd kill in any crowd, I swear you would."

Remus grunts, his lips twitching as he tries to fight back his own laughter from watching Sirius
shake on his sofa. "Yeah, you're definitely done, Black," he mutters, though there's no bite to his
tone. "C'mon, Sirius. Time to go home. Laugh your arse off there for a while, why don't you?"

He reaches down quickly, hands moving like blurs through the air as he clutches at both of Sirius'
wrists and hauls him up to his feet from the sofa. Sirius teeters a bit, disoriented from the sudden
shift, though there's still faint tickles of laughter at the edges of his throat, making themselves
known. He wobbles in Remus' hold, staggering forward a little, bumping against Remus' chest as
he looks up and blinks at the other man. And then Sirius' lips are connecting with Remus' before he
even fully realizes what he's doing.

I wanna be a star without the scars. We'll be running, running, running with the same old crowd.
And I'll be myself.
It's like someone striking a match and letting it grow, bleed out, envelope everything around it. It
starts at Sirius mouth and spreads, across his face, down his neck, creeping slowly like razor burns
over his entire body, setting him on fire. Remus' hands are still latched around his wrists, which is
probably for the best, because otherwise Sirius' fingers would be winding in the fabric of the man's
shirt and clinging on.

I'm a selfish man in a selfish world. There's a road we choose and a friend we lose. It looks like I'm
changing.

Sirius thinks he feels Remus relax into him, his body weighing down heavily against Sirius' own;
thinks he feels the man's mouth part just a little, and Sirius very nearly moans into it, barely biting
it back, keeping it from escaping. Then Remus is stiffening, all movement stopping. They stand
very still for roughly two seconds – Sirius' brain is no longer measuring time as it should be –
before Remus is releasing a small noise and pulling away, dropping his hands from Sirius' wrists.
He stares at Sirius with slightly wider eyes than usual, his face impassive except for a faint twitch
at the corners of his mouth, like it can't decide between speech or remaining silent, a faint flush
trying to gain purchase over his pale skin.

Been told to sit down when I should stand up. Would it mean that much just to hear me say that
I've been myself? And what of yourself?

Sirius glances away, no longer able to meet the other man's eyes, though his gaze keeps shifting
back periodically. "I'm sorry," he whispers, not able to bring his voice any higher, something
lodged in his throat trying to strangle him. "I don't know why – Remus, I – " He's stuttering, can't
seem to find the proper words. Why the hell did he do that?

He squeezes his eyes closed. Sirius has never been one to shy away from what he wants, but the
way Remus is looking at him makes Sirius feel as though he's just ruined everything they'd been
carefully building. Sirius sucks in a sharp breath of air as he reopens them, fixing his gaze on the
man still standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he says again, voice clearer this time. "I don't know what that was. I didn't plan it. I
didn't even think about it. It just…happened. I'm sorry."

Remus is still staring at him, the same indecipherable expression on his features, nothing shifting.
Sirius wants to look away but can't seem to make himself, feeling like he's balancing on a tightrope
and one wrong move will send him falling into a black pit that he'll never be able to claw his way
out from inside. He swallows nervously, tongue darting out to lick his lips, an anxiety-riddled habit
he seems to have at odd times like this, but he stops himself as Remus' jaw clenches just a little,
just enough for Sirius to notice.

Sirius takes a purposeful step away until the backs of his legs are hitting against the sofa behind
him, putting as much distance between them as he's able. Remus seems to shake himself out of
whatever trance he's in as Sirius moves, eyes blinking slowly. He looks at Sirius like he's finally
really seeing him for the first time since Sirius' botched attempt at a kiss. Sirius' breath catches in
his throat as he waits. But Remus' expression schools into tailored blankness, not even his usual
pleasant mask trying to win out as he turns his back on Sirius as walks across the floor to the desk
to shut off the light and disconnect his phone from the speakers. The music abruptly ends at the tail
end of the song, the silence jarring and nearly knocking Sirius backwards.

"We should go," says Remus, no true emotion in his tone, his voice matching his face. Sirius nods,
though he knows Remus can't see him. He turns and grabs his jacket, swinging it over his
shoulders and slipping his arm through as he limps a hasty path to the door, leaving the room as
quickly as he can to wait for Remus at the front of the building.
 The car ride through the city is awkward, the atmosphere within the metal trap tense and silent
other than the music Remus has turned up a little louder than he normally does. Sirius had watched
him as he'd set it up, Remus selecting a playlist this time, which seemed odd to Sirius at first but
now makes more sense as it seems to be tailored away from any mentions of love or sex or gushing
feelings relating to either.

When they arrive in front of the Potters' house, Sirius immediately reaches for the door handle,
anxious to get away from the stifling situation to where he can breathe a bit easier. He's half out of
the car when he pauses against his better judgement. He turns to look at Remus, surprised to see
the man watching him warily.

Sirius swallows around the thick lump in his throat before saying, "Remus – "

"I'll see you on Monday, Sirius," interjects Remus, his voice sounding mostly normal save for the
smallest amount of tightness Sirius can hear lingering around the edges.

Sirius stares at him for another long moment before he finally nods and climbs the rest of the way
from the car. Remus waits for him to step inside the front door before he drives away, just as he
always does. Sirius watches until the red glow from his back lights disappears, just as he always
does.

That weekend, Sirius goes to a club where he thinks he's least likely to be recognized once inside.
He finds the first man with brown hair and freckles and coaxes him to the loo. He lets himself be
fucked in one of the toilet cubicles, closing his eyes during and trying to block everything out. And
if Sirius watches the bobbing head below him as it moves back and forth over his shaft, if he
pretends the hands pinning him to the wall and the cock driving into him with rough force belongs
to Remus, Sirius lies to himself later and says that he didn't.

Chapter End Notes

:shrugs: You're welcome?

 Regret, Understanding, & Dragonflies
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The remainder of the weekend for Sirius is more or less miserable. The team is gone again, so as
much as Sirius typically hates sitting at the sidelines on the bench, he's regretful that he doesn't
even have that to distract him from his wayward thoughts. Even Gideon's sneering face would be
welcomed by Sirius right now.

He tries to hide his internal moping from the Potters, having not told them what happened, though
he knows James and Lily still see some of it, watching him when they think he doesn't notice,
worried lines pulling at their faces. On Sunday, Sirius eventually bundles Harry and himself up in
warmer clothing and takes the boy out front to the quiet street. Now that Sirius' knee is more
healed and he no longer requires crutches to move around, it's easier to do things like this again
with his energetic godson.

It's a sporadically rainy day again, but that doesn't deter either of them. Harry races back and forth
down the street or pavement at its edge, Sirius cheering him on, sometimes timing him at the boy's
enthusiastic request, informing Sirius that he wants to be just as fast of a runner as Sirius someday.
The rushed, breathless words and the hopeful awe filling Harry's eyes as he says them warms the
cold edges of Sirius' heart, breaking away some of the ice that had formed over the previous two
days. He ruffles the boy's hair under him, something Harry is now pretending to hate but Sirius
knows he actually loves.

They're outside for a long time, most of the day other than popping back inside for lunch. The pair
splashes around in the rain puddles that have formed in various places. Sirius grabs a low hanging
branch from a nearby tree and shakes it, sending more water raining down on their heads, causing
Harry to giggle in delight. James eventually comes out to join them in the midafternoon, and
because Sirius still can't race Harry the way he once had, James does instead (letting Harry win, of
course, much to the boy's delight). Even Lily steps out from the house to watch their antics after a
while, leaning her back against the front door, smiling over the steaming cup of tea clutched in her
hands.

It's a good day, mostly; a distracting day, which is just what Sirius needed, his rollick in the club
the previous night not having the desired effect. Yet, as Sirius settles into his bed late that night,
once all his distractions are hidden away within their own rooms, hopefully sleeping peacefully,
Sirius' traitorous thoughts drift back to Remus.

Sirius still can't wrap his mind around what he'd done. He really hadn't meant to; had no intention
of ever following through with his scrambled feelings of lust that keep rising at the oddest of
moments in Remus' presence. He'd honestly thought they would eventually dissipate the more he
came to know the other man, leaving them within the safely confined bounds of friendship before
anything more could ever happen to teeter it in the wrong way. Sirius hadn't even realized what
was happening, where his mouth was leading until it was there and there was nothing him or
anyone else could do to stop him. And of course, Sirius being himself and never anything different,
he's fucked it all up.

He wonders if he'd read all the signs wrong. All the odd looks Sirius caught Remus providing him,
the way the man's eyes would slide over Sirius' body almost as though Remus was never
consciously aware of what he was doing, the vague and cryptic remarks and comments he
sometimes bestowed on Sirius. He must have seen it wrong, read too much into it if Remus' tense
and stoic attitude after the kiss had been any sort of true telling.

Sirius doesn't sleep that night, tossing and turning in his bed until his sheets and blankets are
wrapped around him, restraining him like vines trying to bind. Therefore, when he arrives at
Remus' office again on Monday, Sirius finds himself in yet another foul mood fueled by nervous
anxiety, something that's only increased when he steps through the door and Rosmerta tells him to
take a seat instead of waving him back to Remus' door as she always does.

Had Remus asked her not to allow him back, to keep Sirius at bay until Remus is more prepared to
deal with him? Does Remus not want Sirius in his office anymore, preferring to keep their
encounters within public view from now on to discourage anymore unwelcome advances? Or
worse yet, is Remus planning to dismiss Sirius, send him to someone else for treatment, choosing
to no longer want anything more to do with Sirius?

He waits barely five minutes, the multitude of seemingly limitless questions swirling chaotically
through his head like a hurricane gathering force off the coast, but it's long enough for his body to
become increasingly fidgety and restless. When a door off the side of the room finally opens, Sirius
begins to breathe a sigh of relief, but it sticks in his throat like glue when he sees Peter instead of
Remus.

"'Lo, Sirius," greets the man as he approaches, his voice kind and soft. "Why don't we head back to
the Playroom?"

Sirius blinks up at Peter, frowning, his brow furrowing deeply, not responding. The question and
worry had been present in his mind, yes, but Sirius had never truly thought Remus would abandon
him. Evidently, he'd been wrong.

He swallows around the seemingly permanent lump in his throat, finally nodding up at Peter before
he stands. Sirius can't seem to form words to speak. He follows Peter silently back to the Playroom,
glancing around as they enter, not exactly hopeful, but something. His heart falls a little further
when he sees the room is empty, not even Marlene within taking up space with her blinding
personality. Is she with Remus, keeping him company as he squirrels away in his office or some
other room in the building, waiting for Sirius to leave; waiting until it's safe to emerge?

Peter partially guides Sirius through most of his regular exercises, though Sirius is so used to them
now that the man essentially observes for the most part as Sirius works. He attempts to keep a
steady conversation going, Sirius mumbling responses without paying as much attention as he
knows he should be, his mind constantly pulling him to the warm little office down the hall and the
man he's sure it contains.

They're on the floor, Sirius' bottom half stretched out on a padded mat, back pressed against the
wall, performing the heel slides Remus had first shown him, when Peter leans away, rocking most
of his weight off his knees and settling it back on his own heels. He frowns at Sirius, falling silent
for the first time since Sirius had arrived. His blue eyes sweep over Sirius calculatingly and Sirius
pauses his movement, staring back at him in puzzlement.

"What?" he finally demands when Peter doesn't say anything, trying to keep the small bite from his
tone, though he knows he isn't entirely successful.

Peter's expression takes on a large amount of worry and Sirius instantly feels guilty as the other
man continues to study him. "Are you all right, Sirius?" he asks gently. "You seem…I dunno. Off,
I suppose. You're never this quiet. I feel like every time I catch a glimpse of you in here, you're
always saying something. No one can seem to shut you up, not that it's a bad thing. That's not what
I mean. I just…I've barely managed ten words from you today."
Sirius' eyes soften as he stares at the man so obviously full of concern for his strange behavior,
sighing heavily. "I'm fine, Peter," he says. "Just a long weekend. Guess my mind's a bit drained. It's
got nothing to do with you, promise. You're ace, mate."

Peter nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced of any of it. As he leans back in to prompt
Sirius to return to his earlier movements, Sirius' mind drifts again even as he tries to keep it firmly
planted in place. He can't stop thinking about Remus, wondering how badly he'd messed
everything up. He'd said Friday night that he would see Sirius on Monday. Had he lied? Had he
decided over the two days they were apart that it wasn't worth having to be in Sirius' presence
again, so he'd shifted him off to Peter instead? Would Remus have done this eventually regardless
now that Sirius is closer to being fully healed, pushed him off to Peter so that Remus could focus
his attentions on more dire injuries? It seems to be mainly what Marlene and Peter handle from
what Sirius has seen over the passing weeks, so is that what Remus considers Sirius now, no longer
dire, no longer necessary in his life because he isn't nearly as broken as he once was?

Sirius shakes his head, scattering the thoughts, deciding he has to ask unless he wants to drive
himself even more mental over the situation. Peter has remained quiet this time, no longer trying to
converse, allowing Sirius to sit in his brooding silence while he works himself out. Sirius is
suddenly very grateful for the man beside him with such an obviously kind and easily amenable
heart.

"How was your weekend, Peter?" he asks curiously, trying to keep himself held firmly in the
present and their current space instead of ensconced in the past and Remus' office.

Peter looks up at the inquiry, eyebrows raising slightly, mouth pulling into a small smile. "Good,
yeah," he replies, latching on to the subject readily. "Saw some mates, watched your team play.
They definitely need you back. They…weren't great."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "That's an entirely different subject, mate," he grumbles, and Peter laughs a
little in response. "Do anything else?"

A faint flush creeps over Peter's cheeks now, piquing Sirius' interest and amusing him. When Peter
doesn't immediately respond, Sirius halts his leg movements and reaches out to nudge the man in
his arm, prompting him to speak.

"I had a date," mumbles Peter, looking down at the floor, the blush growing and spreading out.

"Brilliant!" crows Sirius, startling Peter and causing him to jump a little. Sirius chuckles. "How'd it
go?" There's really no need for the question other than politeness, or so Sirius thinks. It's very
clearly written over Peter's crimson face that it went remarkably well.

"Fantastic, actually," says Peter softly, glancing up at Sirius before looking down again, pulling at
a loose thread along the bottom of his shirt. "Marlene and Dorcas set us up. Her name's Emmeline
and she's…bloody perfect. I think she really likes me."

"Of course she does. You're a likeable bloke, Pete."

Peter continues fidgeting with the thread, still not looking up, though his color deepens further to
Sirius' immense amusement. "I wanted to text her yesterday. And this morning. And right now. But
I haven't. Keep telling myself to wait a little longer."

"Oi, Pete," says Sirius, tilting his head down and nudging the man again gently, making Peter look
up to meet his gaze. "That's a stupid rule. Ignore it. It you want to talk to her, do it. But don't text.
Ring her. Girls like that sort of thing."
"You think?" mumbles Peter uncertainly. Sirius smiles brightly at him and nods in answer. Peter
very nearly beams. "Yeah, all right. I'll call her when I do lunch. Thanks, Sirius."

Sirius laughs lightly and claps a hand on the man's back. "Anytime, mate. If I learned anything
from my friend James' struggles with his now wife, it's how to woo a lady," he says, still chuckling
faintly. "If that's possible, your girl should be no trouble at all. Lily despised James for years.
Anything's better than that, isn't it?"

Peter's smile softens, amusement around its grateful edges. "Sounds like it, yeah."

Sirius glances around the room, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a thoughtful moment.
"What's Remus got to say about the whole thing?" he asks, trying to keep his tone casual.

"Nothing yet," remarks Peter, turning his attention back to Sirius' leg and coaxing him into the
exercises again. "Haven't had a chance to talk to him about it."

"Pity. Did he have another meeting today or something?"

Peter looks back up at him at the question, eyes widening a little, face straining in an odd way. It
causes Sirius' stomach to knot in an unpleasant way.

"No." He glances away again, lowering Sirius' leg back down to the mat. "Sorry," he mumbles.
"Didn't think about explaining, about you not knowing, but how could you have, I suppose.
Something came up this weekend. Remus had to leave to take care of some things. He'll be back
when he can be."

So Remus isn't nestled away in the building somewhere, hiding from Sirius. That eases Sirius'
worry slightly, but not much. Peter is still acting oddly, like there's something he's not saying.
Sirius wonders if he's learned his evasion tactics from Remus; if they all had, none of them here
ever seeming to say what they really mean. He also wonders if Peter knows, if Remus had told him
about what Sirius had done Friday night. Had something really come up that was important, or had
Remus left because of Sirius?

The questions spiral and swirl in Sirius' head like chaos building no matter how much he tries to
fight them back. Peter seems to be none the wiser to the dejectedness within Sirius, still working
him slowly through his exercises, his face now back to normal. Sirius searches for something else
to converse about, wanting a distraction for himself as well as to engage Peter, but the other man
speaks up first.

"You know, I can always put some music over the sound system while we're in here on our own,"
he offers. "I know Remus is big on doing that with you, though I'll warn you, our tastes differ quite
a bit."

"Not a bad idea," agrees Sirius. "And I'm not picky, just so long as you're not one of those into the
Top 40."

Peter looks up at him, eyes shifty, one side of his mouth pulling and stretching out straight. Sirius
groans and Peter shrugs, saying sheepishly, "I like Ed Sheeran."

"Oh, Peter," utters Sirius mournfully, clicking his tongue in disdain. Peter throws his head back
and laughs.

--------------------

Remus still isn't back on Tuesday, so Peter accompanies Sirius to the pool instead. It's still fun,
Peter joining Sirius in the water, racing him in laps around the tiled edges. They chatter away while
they're there, Sirius learning new things about the man that he probably wouldn't have otherwise.
Peter is softer that Sirius had initially expected, his first impression and the way he bantered with
Remus and Marlene making him appear blunt and a little sharp. Instead, he's quiet, thoughtful,
considerate of those around him, and just seems to be a genuinely good person. Sirius finds that he
likes Peter Pettigrew far more than he was ever expecting, but he still isn't Remus.

When they finish, they don't sit at the pool's edge and talk as Sirius and Remus usually do. They
leave and return to the office where James is waiting to take Sirius back home. While Sirius is
happy for his sudden time spent in Peter's company, the entire situation only furthers his morose
mood, making him long for Remus' return, hoping they can get back to where they had been before
Sirius had ruined everything.

Remus doesn't return for the rest of the week, and Sirius' mood falters more and more with every
passing day. By the weekend, he's dour and glum, barely hiding his inner turmoil from his friends.
Peter's said nothing else about him, not even a mention of having spoken to the other man, and
Sirius has been too scared to ask. He can feel the walls Remus had somehow managed to open,
surprising even Sirius, closing back up again and building steadily higher.

He'd thought he'd finally found a new friend, something he knows he's severely lacking in,
something even James had so bluntly pointed out to him only a month before, but now Sirius is
back where he'd started. He'd allowed his recklessness and foolishness to muck it all up, just as he
always does. Remus had been someone Sirius could trust, and he'd thought he was making himself
someone Remus could trust as well. Now it was ruined, turned to dust and ash, scattering away in
the wind.

On Saturday night, he's seated at the table in the kitchen, trying to listen as Harry tells them
excitedly about the gnome him and Ron had found at the Weasley house. According to Fred and
George, it moved about the garden when no one was looking and you had to sling it over the fence
to keep it from getting inside the house and eating all the sweets. Harry and Ron had tried for hours
and hours and hours (or so Harry is telling them with a pained expression), but it had been too
heavy for them to lift. They'd knocked it over onto its face instead.

It's a good story, something Sirius would typically be howling in laughter over, asking questions,
making suggestions for how they could get it over the fence without picking it up – Lily glaring
daggers at him the entire time – but tonight he doesn't have it in him. He laughs, tells Harry he'll
get it one day, that him and Ron should be proud of the job they did. Then he begins using his fork
to separate the food on his plate, not wanting any of it to touch.

James is eyeing him, but Sirius ignores it in favor of trying to coral his spreading gravy. When
Harry finishes his meal and asks if he can go play in his room, Lily tells him yes and sends him on
his way after helping him clear his plate away to the sink. Once Harry's footsteps have faded up
the stairs and Lily is back at the table, James rests his elbows on its wood top and levels Sirius with
a pointed stare.

"All right, Pads," he says intently. "Spill."

"What?" mutters Sirius in confusion as he looks up from his plate, the gravy beginning to seep
again. He plants his fork down sideways to try to stem its flow.

"Whatever's got you is this bloody rotten mood of yours," reiterates James. "Tell me what it is."

Sirius looks back down at his plate. The gravy has spread around the useless dam of his fork, and
he shifts it back again, keeping it away from his carrots. "Don't know what you're talking about,
mate," he mumbles. "M'fine."

"Right, you're perfectly fine," pushes James testily, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "That's
why you're so focused on separating your food. C'mon, Sirius, I know you, remember? I know you
better than anyone else. You only care about your food touching when something has crawled its
way up your arse and taken hold. Mum couldn't even cook different foods on the same hobtop for
any meal for a fortnight after you came to ours permanently. So, what's the problem? I'm not
letting it drop until you tell me."

Sirius huffs out a breath of frustration and drops his fork, pushing his plate away, giving up on the
ever-infringing flow of gravy. "It's nothing," he insists. "I'm just tired. Remus is gone and working
with Peter is different. Draining. He's a nice bloke and I like him enough, but I don't know him as
well. Takes a bit of extra effort for the conversation to flow."

James harrumphs and Sirius scowls at him. "Don't, James," he warns. "Just don't. I already know
your opinion on it. I don't need to hear it again because you're wrong."

"Yeah, I still don't think I am. You've got yourself in deeper, I can see it." Sirius glares down at the
tabletop with enough bitterness and rage that he could probably set it alight with flames if he had
magical powers. James releases a heavy sigh. "All right, so? Remus is gone. He'll be back, won't
he?"

"S'pose so, yeah," says Sirius dejectedly, shrugging one shoulder. "Don't know when."

"Then why the sullen mood if I'm wrong and you're not pining after him?" asks James, his tone
sharp but also vaguely gentle around the edges. Sirius looks up at the question with reproach in his
eyes, but he quickly glances away, knowing James will see the other rising emotions. Apparently,
he isn't fast enough, because James' eyes narrow again suspiciously. "Sirius."

Sirius picks up the paper napkin next to his elbow and begins tearing it into small pieces, letting
them flutter down to the table. "I might have fucked up," he mutters, not meeting James' gaze.

"Might have?" repeats James, frustration heavy in his voice, his hands slipping up into his hair, a
bad habit from his younger days that he still hasn't managed to completely shake when he's nervous
or upset. "For fuck's sake, Sirius. What did you do?" And now he just sounds tired and
disheartened. Sirius thinks that's worse than any anger James could bestow on him. Anger is
something Sirius is more than capable of handling. He's never been good at being a
disappointment, though if he listened to his family, that's all he's ever been. The wounds run deeper
than he likes to admit under most circumstances.

Sirius' eyes flicker up to James before dropping back to the table in shame. "I kissed him," he
whispers.

James' hands fall from his head, thumping against the wood surface of the table. "What the actual
fuck is wrong with you?" demands James heatedly. "I warned you, Sirius. I warned you this would
happen. You never fucking listen. Are you trying to leave your entire life, everything you've
worked for, in ruin?"

Sirius' hand fists around the napkin, crumpling it in his grip as he tries to bite back his own cutting
words that are clawing up his throat. He doesn't think he can hold them back for much longer when
Lily, who has so far remained silent, simply watching between the two, reaches out to brush a hand
over James' arm, calming him.

"James Potter, it's time to be quiet," she says sternly before turning to Sirius. "Sirius, sweetheart,
you know we love you. We're not judging." Lily shoots a pointed glare in James' direction, quelling
the man further. "Why did you do it? You know how important Remus is for you, I know you do,
so just make me understand why you decided to kiss him."

"I didn't decide anything," he denies emphatically. "I didn't do it intentionally. I didn't even know
what was happening until it already was. It wasn't planned. It wasn't something I thought about in
great detail and then executed. It just…it just fucking happened, and I wish it hadn't."

Lily gazes across the table at him thoughtfully, nodding slowly, like she's processing his words, or
maybe reading between them. "You like him, don't you?" she says softly, gentleness in her voice,
understanding glittering in her green eyes.

"Of course I like him. I've said that from the beginning," scoffs Sirius, tossing the napkin away and
crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's not what I mean, Sirius," murmurs Lily in the same soothing tone. "You have feelings for
him."

"What is it with you two and feelings?" Sirius nearly snarls, hackles raising and putting him on the
defensive before he can stop it. He swallows it down as much as he can and glares between his two
friends. "I don't have feelings for Remus. He's a good person, a good friend, but that's it. I've told
you both, it's just attraction. I thought it would go away, but it hasn't yet. Still doesn't mean it's
anything more than that."

"You also said a good shag with someone else would get him out of your system," interjects James
determinedly. "That's what you did Saturday, right? Did it work, Padfoot? Is he out of your system,
because it doesn't seem that way to me? Looks like you're still mooning."

Sirius winces a little at the term and the memories that surge forth, but he angles his incensed glare
at James as he snaps, "I am not mooning. I do not have feelings. I fucked up. I kissed him. Now I
have to deal with that. I apologized to him and then he ran off to fuck knows where. I've no idea
whether it's about me or something else. Maybe I'll never know, but I will deal with it and see if I
can salvage any of the friendship we've managed to build in the past month. I don't need your
opinions mixed in with it all, Potter."

James flinches slightly at Sirius' biting words, his face falling, anger fading from the lines around
his eyes and mouth. "Used to be I was the one whose opinions you always came running for," he
says quietly, faint hurt shining from his hazel gaze. "When did that stop, Padfoot?"

Sirius feels guilt rise inside him, churning in his stomach like the sea in the middle of a harsh
storm. "It hasn't, Prongs. It hasn't," he insists adamantly when James frowns and looks doubtful.
"But you're wrong about this, and I need you to stop, because all you're doing is making it more
difficult. I know you're not trying to, but you are. I fucked up. I am a fuck up. It's all I ever do. I
destroy everything I touch. I'm just trying to get better at picking up the pieces."

"Bloody hell, Sirius, you are not a fuck up," snaps James furiously. He pants heavily for a few
seconds before he seems to forcibly calm himself. "You're not a fuck up, and you don't destroy
everything you touch, otherwise we wouldn't still be sitting here with you after all these years."
Sirius looks away, knowing that no matter what James says, Sirius had caused more than enough
upheaval in his found family's lives. "You need to stop with all this shite. You're nothing like what
your fucked up family said you were. None of it, Sirius. You're better than that, and you're better
than they'll ever be. I know you have a tendency to rush into things without thinking them through.
You're a rash person, and you tend to crash before you even look up. I'm not judging you for it. I
love you, mate. I'm just trying to throw a pillow or something in front of you before the collision
happens, trying to soften the blow as much as I can."

Sirius still doesn't look at his friend as he swallows thickly, trying to dilute the different emotions
surging inside him, threatening to pull him down and drown him. "I know, James," he murmurs.

"Sirius, luv, we only want you to be happy," says Lily, leaning forward to try to take his hand, "but
I think you're just making yourself miserable instead."

Sirius jerks his hand away. "Who says I'm not happy?" he demands sharply. He glances at his
plate, food still mostly separated but slowly trying to merge back together. "All right, fine. Maybe
I'm not at this particular moment, but in general, who thinks I'm not happy? I've got you lot, you
two and Harry. I've got a good career. Friends on the team. Why shouldn't I be happy?"

Lily merely tilts her head, saying nothing, her soft expression and concerned eyes asking all the
same questions, but in a different way. Sirius' brow furrows as he frowns, the slowly forming
realization settling over him like a too heavy shroud, tucking into the cracks and crevices of his
entire being. Fuck.

Her green eyes softening in sympathetic understanding, Lily stands and rounds the table, stepping
behind Sirius. Her arms wrap around his chest in a firm hold as she presses a caring kiss to the top
of his head.

"We're here for you, Sirius," she whispers, James gazing across the table at them with a strained
expression, his hazel eyes showing more worry than he thinks the man is willing to let on through
words or actions. "For whatever and whenever you need it, sweetheart. We're always here for you
and we always will be."

Sirius leans his head back against her, not struggling against her hold, suddenly feeling like Lily is
the only thing holding him together. He stares at the wall where it meets the ceiling with sightless
eyes, wondering when everything in his life had grown so depressingly dark, or whether it had
always been that way and he'd simply blocked it out. Either way, the growing truth settles in
deeply, taking root, and Sirius is nearly powerless to fight against it.

--------------------

Remus still hasn't returned by the middle of the following week, and Sirius is more depressed than
he thinks he's ever been, which is saying a great deal when he thinks hard enough about it, though
he tries to turn his focus toward something else. Surely Remus wouldn't have run off just because
of one hazy, mistaken kiss that Sirius had apologized for profusely.

His mind keeps trailing back to that fateful Friday night when everything had crumbled around his
feet, sending dust and ash careening into the air, choking his lungs and leaving him stranded and
lost, gasping for breath. Sirius had thought, at the time, that Remus had fallen into the kiss, given
himself over to it just as Sirius had temporarily. His body had relaxed, pressed into Sirius' in a
languid, gloriously rich way, leaving Sirius' head spinning and dizzy. But had he been wrong? Had
Remus not done that at all and Sirius had simply felt what he'd wanted in the moment? Or, maybe
even worse than the other options, had Remus actually done just that, an immediate reaction that he
had fought against once his shocked mind had caught up to what Sirius was doing?

Sirius makes it through the week, but barely. He considers pulling back from Remus and his team
completely, having Lily give him another recommendation for someone else who can continue his
treatment, especially now that he's so far along. Surely, at this point, almost anyone could get him
back to where he needs to be. But he doesn't, because he does like Peter, enjoys the time spent
working with the man, and Sirius knows it would send the wrong message to him if Sirius were to
leave.

He steps into the building on Thursday afternoon and begins to sit down to wait on Peter to
emerge, but Rosmerta stops him, waving a silent hand since she's currently on the phone. Sirius
pauses in his half-stoop over the chair, brow furrowing in confusion as he looks at her
questioningly. She jabs a red painted thumb around the corner in the direction of Remus' office
wordlessly. Sirius huffs in frustration at the miming and straightens, approaching her desk and
raising both his hands in midair, trying to show her he doesn't understand what she's telling him.

Rosmerta says something into the phone receiver and then covers the mouthpiece with her fingers.
"He's back, luv," she tells him with a bright smile. "You can go back to his office. He's there."

Sirius' breath falters in his chest as he glances at the wall that hides Remus' office door. Remus is
back? thinks Sirius to himself, panic and elation struggling for purchase inside him. Remus is back
and he's not keeping his distance. He still wants to see me.

Rosmerta chuckles faintly at his surprised reaction, shooing him away from her desk good-
naturedly before she resumes her conversation. Sirius' mind jump starts again and he makes a hasty
path to Remus' office door, but he stops when he reaches it, fist halfway to the wood separating
them, hovering and not moving.

Sirius suddenly realizes he's nervous. He's never really been nervous before, not with Remus. He's
had a few flutters at odd times, a couple moments of second guessing, but this is new. And if Sirius
is being honest with himself, it's not just nervousness and anxiety he's currently feeling. Sirius is
scared. Because what if Remus is only seeing him now to inform him that he won't treat Sirius
anymore? What if during the time he's been away, and having returned to hear firsthand Sirius'
progress made with Peter, Remus has decided that it's best kept as it currently is, without Remus'
direct involvement in Sirius' life any longer?

His hand falls away as he stares at the dark, gleaming wood of the door in front of him. Sirius isn't
sure if he can handle that, isn't certain he can step into that room, hear those words, and walk away
with all his pieces still intact. Something inside him is already breaking just at the thought and it
hasn't even happened yet.

For fuck's sake, Black, get yourself together, his mind growls at him in irritation. Sirius shakes his
head, scattering the thoughts away, glaring at the door like it's insulted him. He's being absurd.
Remus is just a man. A good man, yes; easy to talk to, to joke with, to discuss things that Sirius
normally leaves unsaid, but still just a man. If this is what Remus has decided to do, Sirius will
deal with it. He'll walk away and eventually be fine. He's only known Remus for a little over a
month. It's not as though he'll be losing someone like James or Lily. He still barely even knows
enough about the man to consider him a friend. If Remus has decided he wants nothing more to do
with Sirius, then he'll be fine, eventually. He won't be losing much.

A faint voice in the back of Sirius' head whispers that he's lying to himself. Losing Remus would
cut deep, leaving a cavernous divide within his soul, long and jagged and bleeding. It would match
all his other scarring lacerations left with time and disappointment, possibly be even worse than the
hollowed canyons left as reminders of his time with his family and everything else he's lost.

Sirius scowls darkly, clamping down on the thoughts as he finally lifts his hand again and raps
sharply on the door. When he hears the muffled reply from within of the voice he hasn't heard in
nearly two weeks, the expression drops away, crumpling into something more yearning. His heart
sputters in his chest as he turns the knob and pushes the door open, feet moving slowly and
carefully as he steps inside, not knowing what to expect.
Remus is sitting at his desk, head bent forward, dark, shadowed eyes moving over papers scattered
in front of him. He doesn't look up as Sirius enters, never even acknowledges his presence. Sirius
steps further forward and then simply stands in the middle of the room, feeling like he's suspended
in midair, trapped in some sort of cruel limbo, uncertain of what to do or where to go or if he
should say something. So he does nothing, standing and staring, barely breathing, waiting.

It's probably only about thirty seconds – though it feels much longer to Sirius, like eons stretching
between them – before Remus finally mutters, "Hello."

His voice is nearly flat, none of the usual emotions of happiness or delight radiating from it, not
even the effected pleasantness he sometimes uses when he closes himself off from Sirius. He
sounds empty, like a shell of his former self. Sirius feels as though something is pushing him into
the floor, a heavy weight bearing down over his shoulders and curving his spine torturously as he
tries in vain to resist its pressure.

"Give me a few minutes to finish this and we'll leave," says Remus, voice and tone still the same,
still hollow, like it could be absolutely anyone standing in front of him, any nameless stranger.

Sirius feels the weight press down harder until he nearly snaps in half from its force. He stares at
Remus, the man still studiously fixated on his paperwork, never sparing Sirius a glance. Sirius
stands still for several passing minutes, fidgeting and uncomfortable, remaining silent until he can
take it no longer.

"You're back," he says finally, his own voice low, uncertainty lacing its edges.

Remus looks up at him then, and Sirius is struck like a blow to the chest by his appearance. He's
paler than usual, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast. His normally wavy, chaotic hair is
limp, nearly lifeless, the usual soft brown hues dulled and muddy. His eyes are hollow within their
sockets, dim and void, dark smudges lining the skin beneath, accentuating his sunken cheeks.
Sirius frowns in concern.

"I'm back," parrots Remus as he stands from his desk, shuffling the papers back into a neat pile.
His words are clipped and short, hitting Sirius directly in the stomach like a bludgeoning force.
"Did you think I wouldn't be?"

Sirius chews on the inside of his cheek. "I did…wonder," he mumbles, glancing out the window to
his right. He continues gnawing until he feels sharp pain and makes himself stop, turning back to
watch as Remus stows the papers in one of his desk drawers.

"Thought maybe you'd vanished because of me," says Sirius as lightly as he can manage.

Remus looks back up at him, scowling darkly. "You are not the center of gravitational pull.
Everything doesn't orbit around you, Sirius," he snaps harshly.

Sirius winces at the man's sharp tone before he can stop himself. "Ouch," he utters, hurt and
burning regret blossoming inside his chest and spreading out, searing through his veins like acid. "I
think that was a bit uncalled for, don't you? I was worried about you."

"Worry about your own self, Sirius," bites out Remus, something sadistic flashing in his dull
brown eyes. "My life isn't any of your concern, nor is what I choose to do with my time."

Sirius feels as though he's being pulled under water. He'd messed things up, he'd known that, but
he'd never truly thought he'd ruined everything, not really, no matter how much he'd stressed over
the mistake he'd made the past two weeks. Now he's being confronted with the very real, very
crippling, intensely painful truth and Sirius doesn't know how to keep his head above it, how to
keep fighting for air when all his body and heart wants to do is drown.

"Sorry I cared," he whispers dejectedly.

"I didn't ask you to care!" shouts Remus suddenly, sending Sirius back a step in shock. "I didn't ask
for any of this, not one single second. I didn't ask for you. You are my patient, nothing more. You
have no right to anything about me."

Sirius' eyes narrow. "What the fuck is your problem, Lupin?" he snarls. "You didn't ask for this? I
didn't ask for this! You're the one that said you wanted to be friends, so that's what I've been trying
to do, though you've made it incredibly difficult, let's not lie about that. You barely talk about
yourself, close off everything until I feel as though I've no choice but to pry it out of you. But I
haven't done that. I've waited, been patient, something that has never been my strongest selling
point in case you've not realized. I thought we were finally getting somewhere, but I guess I was
wrong, wasn't I? I know I crossed the line, Remus. I fucked up, but I didn't mean to do it, never
planned it, and I apologized, but I suppose that wasn't good enough. Maybe I should just stick with
Peter from now on."

"Maybe you should," mutters Remus, furious and challenging gaze still fixed on Sirius.

Sirius releases a sharp, bitter laugh. "Right," he bites out, turning his words just as clipped and
grating as Remus'. "Fuck off to me, then, is it? Fine. You don't want me worrying about you. All
right. Don't bother worrying over me either. I'll find someone else. Your time is now your own
again, without my nattering presence destroying it for you. Please, enjoy."

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't focus on Remus' face. Sirius simply turns on his heel and
storms from the office as effectively as his limping leg will allow.

--------------------

He walks for a long time, wandering aimlessly down the streets, not really paying attention to
where he's going. Sirius supposes at some point he'll end up at home, though at this time, he's not
even really sure in which direction home is located within the sullen recesses of his struggling
mind. He could call a cab if he needed, or some sort of ride share, but he doesn't. Sirius just walks,
head down, staring at the pavement beneath his feet, occasionally bumping into random strangers
and mumbling an absent apology when they protest.

Sirius walks until his knee aches painfully, throbbing under the pressure of the straining brace and
his own weight, but he keeps going, turning down random streets and alleyways. The cold bites in
around him, but he barely feels it, ducking his head down deeper into the upturned collar of his
jacket as the wind whips across his neck and under his flying hair.

His mind is spiraling, worse than it has in a long time, feeling like a drain that's been pulled and
unplugged, everything swirling and getting sucked down into the darkness. How had one stupid
little mistaken kiss caused so much chaos and destruction? How does Sirius always manage to
demolish everything good in his life so easily, without thought or preparation?

It feels unfair, though he knows that's a childish thought. When has life ever been fair to anyone?
Yet, Sirius doesn't really have it in him to care much right now. It is unfair, all of it. He's battled
against himself his entire life, trying to keep the horrible things at bay, keep them from touching all
those around him that are important. Sirius thinks it shouldn't be too much to ask to have one thing
that remains untouched by his own selfish sense of recklessness, but maybe he's wrong. Maybe
that's how it will always be, who he'll always be, left stranded and wandering as everything and
everyone he cares about turns to dust around him and scatters away in the cold wind.

The thought makes him even more miserable and desolate than he's already been. He feels like
hitting something, but a cursory glance around presents no readily available options that won't get
him arrested or punched in return. Though, maybe that's just what he needs right now, a good, solid
punch to knock him down, knock him out and unconscious, just to stifle the thrashing agony and
self-deprecating horridness inside his head.

A musical chiming sounds and it takes a while for it to register in Sirius' mind that the noise is his
ringing mobile. He pauses in the middle of the pavement and fishes it out with numb fingers,
staring down at the screen at the number he doesn't recognize. Sirius considers ignoring it for a
few seconds, silencing it and stashing it back to the depths of his pocket, or even throwing it with
brutal force into the street for a car to crush under its rolling tire. With a weary sigh, Sirius thinks
better of it, worry that it's Lily or James or something relating to Harry stopping him.

His thumb slides over the screen to answer the call. "What?" says Sirius in barely more than a
grunt.

"Sirius."

Remus. Remus' voice on Sirius' phone. Remus' soft, dulcet, haunting tones echoing through his ear
and settling heavily in his chest, causing his lungs to deflate like a popped balloon. Sirius glances
back out to the street, reconsidering his previous idea of hurling the small bit of metal and plastic
away. He doesn't, his eyes falling closed instead, remaining silent, waiting, not having the strength
to speak or end the call, end all contact with the man on the other side.

"Sirius," says Remus again, and there's a poignant ache in his voice that Sirius can feel even
through the glass of his phone screen. "Sirius, I'm sorry. I – " He pauses; Sirius thinks he hears him
swallow, like he's choking and fighting for words. "I'm sorry. I lost my head a bit. Where did –
where are you?"

Sirius doesn't reply, eyes still closed, people shuffling around him on the pavement, muttering
under their breaths. Sirius doesn't much care about them. He can't comprehend why he feels this
way, so completely crushed after his row with the man currently occupying his phone. It had been
a fight. Sirius has fought with James too many times to even begin to try to count. But even James'
sometimes vicious comments and remarks during one of their infamous spats had never cut Sirius
as deeply as Remus' words had within his office, a place Sirius had come to view as comforting and
safe; a place he could be who he is instead of whoever people thought he needed to be. Some part
of that felt lost now, vanished out to a void that he could never get back, leaving him empty and
hopeless. He doesn't understand why it affects him so very much and wonders longingly if he ever
will.

"S-Sirius?" says Remus after a very long pause, slight stutter in his voice, like he's nervous,
checking if Sirius is still there, even listening.

Sirius inhales a deep breath, steadying himself as his eyes open to the gloomy haze surrounding
him. "I'm here," he mutters.

"Where?"

He stares at the pavement for a moment, thinking it over, considering whether he should answer or
simply disconnect the call and continue walking. With a sigh, Sirius looks around, gaining a
bearing on where he is in the city before mumbling his location into the phone mulishly.
"Stay there," murmurs Remus, tone strained and tense, but not the same as it had been inside his
office roughly an hour earlier. Then the call disconnects and Sirius is left alone, standing in the
middle of the pavement, staring down at his phone screen again, photo of Harry grinning up at
him.

Sirius is leaning against the bricks of the building he'd stopped in front of after Remus had called
him earlier when the now familiar car stops in the middle of the street. Remus leans over and
quickly pushes the passenger side door open in silent offering as he stares across the distance at
Sirius.

Sirius hesitates for only a moment before limping over to the car and climbing in. If he hadn't
planned to get inside, why had he waited at all? Remus urges the car forward as Sirius closes the
door, both men silent and staring straight ahead. They drive for a few minutes before Remus points
the nose of the vehicle toward the curb and slips out of traffic, parking next to an open section of
pavement. His pale hands wrap around the wheel, staring with unblinking eyes at the gauges and
needles in front of him, knuckles white and straining against skin sharply. Sirius sits in quiet
consternation, gazing ahead but watching Remus from the corner of his eye, waiting, barely
breathing again.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," he whispers finally, repeating his earlier statement. Sirius says nothing in reply,
eyes flickering to the side window. "I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't leave because of
you. I…had some matters I needed to attend to. They arose rather abruptly." Remus' voice cracks
slightly over the words, like they're difficult to say.

"I didn't leave because of you," says Remus again, more insistently this time, almost pleading.
"What happened last week…I know it was an accident. Bound to happen eventually, really. We've
muddled everything up with all the teasing and fake flirting." He releases his tight hold on the
wheel, body slumping down into the seat like it's deflating, his head falling back. "But Sirius,
things can't get muddled. They can't. We have to keep those lines drawn. We can't cross them, not
if I'm going to continue to treat you. Not if I'm going to help you in the ways you really need it."

Remus turns to look at Sirius then, waiting until Sirius meets his eyes before he says anything else.
Sirius resists for a time, not because he doesn't understand what Remus is saying. He does, but he
also doesn't on some deeper level. Once again, there's things he isn't saying, things he's leaving
buried too deeply between the lines of his words that Sirius can't dig out, sort through with any real
sense of progress. Remus makes it sound as though there's some other way in which he's meant to
be helping Sirius, but that makes no sense, because the only broken thing about Sirius as far as
Remus is concerned is his knee. There's also a lingering feeling within his words that leaves Sirius
thinking Remus does want the lines crossed, wants everything muddled and upended, but all
evidence points to that not being true, only within Sirius' head, especially if Remus' reaction to
seeing Sirius again inside his office had been any indication.

Sirius pulls at one of the metal pieces at the base of his leather jacket. He still doesn't want to look
over, doesn't want to give in, but he eventually does, finally meeting Remus' tired, worry-filled
brown gaze and nodding in agreement, relenting for the time being, though he's still hurt, still
doesn't fully understand the reaction he'd garnered simply from his own concern.

Remus suddenly looks incredibly relieved, his shoulders sagging as it washes over him. Sirius
thinks his concession is worth it, just for a moment, before the hurt and confusion returns. Remus'
eyes shift back to the windshield, something else, something like sadness or regret flickering over
his face before his gaze drops to his lap, fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his own jacket as he
swallows roughly and audibly.
"My dad died," he whispers, his voice a wisp of a thing. Sirius' head snaps back up at the
revelation from where it had dropped when Remus had looked away. "I had to go back home and
sort some things out. It took longer than I expected. That's where I was, Sirius."

Sirius' mouth works for a long while, sympathy and guilt surging through him, battling for reign.
"Remus," he tries, something gathering in his throat and nearly choking him. Sirius doesn't even
know what he's going to say next, but Remus shakes his head, stopping him before he can figure it
out, the man still not meeting Sirius' eyes.

"People around him – neighbors, the few friends he still had – all said he'd been ill for a while,"
mumbles Remus, still picking at his buttons idly, like they're holding him together, or he can use
them to pull himself apart. Sirius isn't sure which, his heart aching for the man beside him. "Too
long of not caring for himself, letting his body fall to ruin, depression suffocating him. Same as my
mum, just slower. He never even tried to reach out, and I didn't think – "

Remus cuts himself off suddenly, like he can't continue, and Sirius thinks he probably can't. Remus
looks to the right of himself, out his own side window, watching the cars as they pass by steadily.
Sirius isn't sure what to do. If the same situation was happening with someone else, James or Lily,
even Frank or Benjy, Sirius wouldn't hesitate, would know exactly how to react, pulling them into
an embrace, letting them know their suffering was understood, was valid, that they weren't alone,
that they were cared for and loved. But Sirius can't do that with Remus, can't step over those still
blurry lines again. So he sits and watches, fingers twitching with the need to touch, Sirius cursing
himself for always being such a physical person and struggling in moments like this when he can't
act upon it the way he longs to do.

Remus inhales a slow, deep breath, muttering mostly to himself, tone slightly regretful, "Lyall
Lupin was a stubborn man." He leaves it at that, and Sirius isn't sure what to say. Remus finally
turns to look at him again, brown eyes sad and imploring. "I didn't leave because of you, Sirius. I
wouldn't, not like that, not without a word or explanation."

"I know," says Sirius because he somehow does. Now that the air is a little more clear, now that
Remus is back and sitting beside him within the warmth of the car, Sirius does know, realizes he
always has on some level, scolding himself for ever thinking differently. His eyes sweep over
Remus as the man turns his gaze back to the windshield.

"We've missed part of our time slot at the pool by now," mumbles Remus faintly, sounding like
he's speaking more to himself than to Sirius, puzzling it out. "Can't really say I'm much in the mood
for swimming regardless." He glances back to Sirius briefly. "I can take you home now, if you
want."

Sirius frowns, following Remus' gaze out to the street ahead of them, watching the traffic move
over the asphalt. He doesn't really want to leave Remus alone with himself right now, figures the
man has had more than enough empty silence in the past two weeks to last a lifetime and more.
Sirius huffs as he makes a decision.

"Don't think I'm ready to go home, actually," he says determinedly, looking over at Remus. "Why
don't you let me take you somewhere this time?"

Remus' gaze shifts back to Sirius, hollow eyes studying him for a contemplative moment.
Eventually, he smiles very faintly and nods in acquiescence. Sirius offers a brighter smile in return.

He guides Remus through the streets of the city. It takes a while, traffic heavy this late in the day.
While they drive, Sirius pulls out his phone and texts James, letting his friend know not to pick him
up and that he'll be home later. He pauses after he sends it off before adding that he'll explain
what's happening when he sees him that night, deciding not to try so hard to keep things about
Remus' and his time together from the two people who care more about Sirius than anyone else
ever has in his life.

When they arrive at Peckham Rye, Remus looks mildly confused, his eyes shifting over to Sirius as
he parks the car, gaze puzzled. Sirius merely smiles and motions with his head for the man to get
out while Sirius does the same. His knee protests a bit from so long walking and then remaining
still, but he ignores it as he leads Remus through the park along familiar paths. It's not a large area,
not compared to some of the other more visited parks in London, but Sirius has always enjoyed it
since he was a kid, sneaking away from his family whenever he could to travel the streets and
Underground just to spend a few hours wandering around aimlessly within. Now he brings Harry
whenever he can, loving every single moment of their time spent together here.

Sirius leads Remus along without saying anything, watching the man grow steadily more curious
as they walk. Sirius stifles a smile and small chuckle, enjoying the turned tables they're currently
experiencing probably a little too much. They eventually arrive at Sirius' intended destination, a
large bench that stretches wide and long, its metal shaped into the form of a dragonfly.

Sirius seats himself upon it, throwing his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles as he
settles in. Remus hesitates for a brief moment before following suit, shoulders a little stiff as he sits
beside Sirius, still clearly confused. Sirius smiles to himself, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his
jacket as he waits for the reason they came here.

Remus is surprisingly patient, far more so than Sirius could ever be, remaining silent and mostly
still for nearly five minutes before he finally turns to Sirius with questioning eyes. "What are we
doing here, Sirius?" he asks, his voice low, like he thinks he might disturb the peace around them.

"You'll see," says Sirius cryptically. "Give it a bit longer. I promise you'll enjoy it."

Remus' brows knit together, not in doubt or disbelief, but simple curiosity. He says nothing,
though, remaining silent and shifting his gaze around the space, searching for anything of interest.

It's nearly ten minutes later before a man and woman appear, ambling almost lazily down the path,
guitar cases slung over their backs. The man nods at Sirius in greeting as they step from the path
and into the grass, pulling the cases from over their heads and opening them wide in the browning
tufts at their feet. They free their guitars and sling the straps back over their heads before beginning
to pick faint tunes that don't amount to much. Then they start, both plucking away at strings as the
woman begins to croon softly.

Remus' eyes widen a little as the music starts in front of them. Sirius doubts it's a song the man has
ever heard before, a cover of something old, far before either of their times, something Sirius only
knows because his uncle had listened to it often when Sirius had been a small child and was still
permitted to see the man he'd always adored so much. Remus seems immersed, the lines dropping
from his face as his features smooth out, mouth parting open slightly when his eyes close, body
leaning forward a little, forearms resting over his thighs.

Sirius watches him as they listen, the man and woman shifting through songs fluidly, their voices
rough but still nice in the open, chilled air around, echoing through the silence of the park. He can
feel some of the stress and grief leech from Remus' body beside him, soothing Sirius' own restless
struggling in his head. They listen to nearly three different songs before Remus finally turns to him,
opening his eyes and gazing at Sirius, taking him in like he's never seen him before. They're still
sad, still weighed down heavily, but no longer hollow, the brown irises glinting in the pale light
from the overcast sky.
 "Thank you, Sirius," he whispers, barely audible over the soft singing and strum of the guitar
strings in front of them.

Sirius smiles, reaching out a hand without thinking, gripping at Remus' shoulder the same way he
would James' or Frank's. Just a solid force, just saying he's there. "You're welcome, Remus."

Chapter End Notes

Because I can't wait to release the playlist for this one, if anyone's curious about the
song the buskers sing in the park, this is it.
 House Calls, Dinner, & Baths
Chapter Notes

This one got away from me a bit, I'm not going to lie about that, but we're stuck with it
now. So, enjoy 16K words, free of charge. :shrugs:

When Sirius finally arrives home that night, James glances up at him from his slouched position on
the sofa, raising his eyebrows in silent question, less judgement in his eyes than Sirius had initially
expected. Sirius can hear Lily moving around upstairs with Harry, but he settles down in the chair
next to James and slowly begins to tell his friend as much as he can manage about what had
happened earlier in the day. James listens without interruption, nodding along and frowning in
sympathy when Sirius explains about Remus' father.

Sirius skips over part of their conversation within the confines of Remus' car, jumping ahead to the
park instead. When he's finished, he inhales a deep breath and circles back, telling James that they
had worked through Sirius' blunder two weeks prior, cautiously explaining to him what Remus had
said about blurring the carefully placed lines between friendship and more. There would be no
crossing them; no muddling or risking any of what they had built and gained.

James stares at Sirius when he's finished, looking as though he wants to say something as he studies
him. Whatever it is eventually flickers away, fading to the background where Sirius can no longer
see it as James nods again and simply tells Sirius he's happy Remus is back, happy they've
managed to work through the mess Sirius had been so stressed about before falling silent again as
Lily returns downstairs to join them, though his hazel eyes still watch Sirius periodically, like he's
searching for something he can't find.

Later that night, once Sirius is laying within his bed, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to
come, he remembers something. He rolls, snatching his phone from the table beside him and
quickly unlocking it, pulling up his call log. He finds the once unknown number, and with only a
brief moment of hesitation, saves the contact under Remus' name before it can disappear in the
coming days, becoming lost to him.

The following day, Remus still isn't quite his usual self, still quieter, more reserved than Sirius has
grown accustomed to from the man, but there's a little more light in his eyes than the afternoon
before, and he smiles warmly at Sirius when he steps into the office. Sirius doesn't say anything
about the previous day or the past two weeks, letting it rest, trying not to bring anything closer to
the surface for the grieving man than necessary. Instead, Sirius remains himself, as open and
carefree as he can currently be, hoping that Remus recognizes a willing participant and confidant if
he chooses to talk about what's happening inside his mind.

They resume their routine, journeying to the Playroom for the afternoon where Peter and Marlene
are ensconced within. Marlene is with her own patient and Peter is simply there, sterilizing
equipment Sirius will have no use for, probably trying to make sure Remus doesn't have to do it
over the weekend. When Marlene finishes up with the woman she's working with and walks her
back out to the front, she returns shortly after, hanging around, helping Peter or hovering over
Remus' shoulder as she sometimes does when he's with Sirius.

They joke and tease and bicker amongst themselves, the banter flowing easily after a while, Remus
joining in eventually just as he always does. At some point, Peter wanders away to the speakers
mounted on the wall, connecting his phone, music streaming out a few moments later. Remus and
Sirius groan, complaining loudly and vocally when Peter's precious Top 40 hits their ears. By the
time they're finished, Marlene and Peter gathering their things and leaving for the night as Remus
and Sirius return to Remus' office, Remus is laughing, truly laughing, eyes bright, his pale, freckled
face almost normal. Sirius feels incredibly grateful for the kind, caring people filling the man's life.

When they arrive in front of the Potters' house late that night, they bid one another farewell, but
Sirius pauses as he climbs out of the car, hesitating, one leg out, one still inside. He turns to Remus,
studying him through the darkness, only the lights from the dashboard illuminating his face in a
pale, almost eerie glow. He glances at Sirius when he doesn't immediately remove himself, Remus'
head tilting slightly in silent, curious question.

"If you need anything, Remus, just…" Sirius eventually says softly, "let me know. I'm always
around." One corner of his mouth quirks up in the faint vestiges of a comforting smile. "You've got
my number."

Remus gazes across the small distance at him for a long, quiet few moments, eyes sweeping over
Sirius' face. Finally, he smiles, a true thing, one of the few Remus keeps in reserve that isn't
manufactured for simple pleasantness or politeness. It's one of the smiles Sirius has yet to see the
man use with anyone else, only making its presence known when they're alone together, when no
one else is watching.

"Thank you, Sirius," he whispers genuinely, looking truly grateful. Sirius nods and finally pushes
his way from the car. He stands in the front door of the mostly silent house, watching, just like
always, as Remus' lights disappear down the street.

Over the course of the weekend, Sirius finds himself pulling out his phone at odd, random
moments, checking it constantly, making sure the volume is as high as it can go. He opens his
messages and begins a new thread under Remus' name several times, always staring at the blinking
cursor that mocks him silently before dismissing the idea of sending any form of text or
communication, though he argues with himself over it for hours afterwards.

James watches him each time, eventually threatening to steal the thing away and lock it up if Sirius
doesn't stop obsessing for five minutes. That's when Sirius decides it's time to retreat to his own
room for a while, inserting his headphones as he settles on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he
continues searching for the one song he can't seem to find; the one that feels so very important for
some unknown reason.

When Monday arrives, Remus seems to be in slightly better spirits, making Sirius feel foolish for
his constant fretting over the past two days. They resume their normal routine, Sirius feeling a
wave of happiness to return to the pool with Remus on Tuesday, enjoying it when the man settles
up on its side once they're finished and quietly talks to Sirius just as they have since the beginning.
He asks Sirius if he'd be willing to change his Wednesday appointments to Remus' last of the day,
just like Thursdays and Fridays. Sirius readily agrees, only marginally regretting his decision later.
Wednesdays become their pedal boat days, much to Sirius' chagrin and Remus' ever-growing
amusement.

It's a peaceful week, the days passing in relative tranquility and positivity – except for Wednesday
when they get the pig again, inspiring a near hour long rant from Sirius about the distinct
unmerited existence of all pedal boats, swine or otherwise – until Friday arrives. Sirius will muse
much later about why so many things in his life seem to be constantly hurled into a state of flux on
this particular day of any given week.
It starts with a distressed call from Lily early in the afternoon, stuck at St Mungo's with a car that
won't start. Sirius tries to walk her through what she can possibly do on her own, eventually
hearing a few other voices in the background, one sounding very much like Kingsley, but it's no
use. The car is dead for the time being. James, Sirius knows, is trapped in meetings all day,
something the man had complained about at length the night before. Sirius is stranded, though at
least he's safely within the confines of his claimed home.

"I know you need to get to physio, Sirius," says Lily over the phone once they've given up on the
car and Sirius has informed her he'll arrange a tow to a trusted mechanic, her voice a little
desperate, "but please don't take a cab or ride share. You know how James worries about you when
it comes to that, and so do I, if I'm being honest. It's just not safe with who you are."

"It's fine, Evans," replies Sirius with a long-suffering sigh. "Nothing's going to happen by me
taking a cab."

"Sirius Black, if I find out you've allowed a complete stranger to drive you around this city, I'll rip
your bollocks from your body with my bare hands," she threatens sharply. Sirius winces.

"Bit harsh, don't you think, Lils?"

"Not if it keeps you safe, I don't, no."

"Listen to her, Black," interjects Kingsley's voice, suddenly closer to the phone. Sirius can picture
him leaning in as closely as he feels necessary to be heard, but still cautiously spaced from a raging
Lily Potter. "Her face is turning that red color. What did we rate it? Level four? Nearing mass
destruction."

Sirius laughs when he hears Lily grumbling to Kingsley faintly as the other man cackles deeply.
There are a few distant thumps and smacking sounds, giving Sirius room to imagine the red head
providing Kingsley with a good whomping in displeasure. When Lily returns to the phone, her
voice is a little more breathless.

"We'll discuss that later, Sirius," she warns. "For now, I want you to promise me you won't do
anything so foolish."

Sirius huffs in irritation but relents at the worry he hears lacing her tone. "All right, I promise," he
agrees. "I won't let a stranger take me to physio."

"I am sorry, luv," says Lily in remorse. "I know it's important."

"Honestly, it's fine, Lils," dismisses Sirius, trying to brush the matter away. "It's one day, and I can
do several of the exercises here. Remus said so. No worries, babes."

They talk for a while longer before Sirius disconnects the call and rings for a tow, setting it up and
texting Lily the info. Then he spends the next hour staring at his phone, spinning it round idly in
his hands, contemplating. He finally sighs and faces the screen right way up as he unlocks it,
thumb tapping and scrolling, hesitating another brief second before pressing the call symbol.

Sirius pushes on the speaker button and sets the phone on the coffee table in front of him, his hands
shaking far too much to hold the strip of metal and plastic, though he tries to ignore it. It rings a
fair few times, Sirius thinking it'll go to the man's voicemail before it stops mid-ring, the grating
sound ending abruptly. There's a faint rustling, followed by a generous amount of muffled
speaking, and then it suddenly clears.

"Sirius?" says Remus in confusion, trace tinges of concern around the edges of his voice, though
it's still open and welcoming. Sirius' breath catches in his throat at the sound of it in the room,
filling the spaces Sirius had never thought he'd ever have reason to hear it at all. "All right?"

"Hiya, Remus," chirps Sirius, far too cheerily. He scowls at himself. "Er, sorry. Got a few minutes
to chat?"

Remus is silent for a handful of seconds, like he's evaluating or processing. Sirius can't tell which.
Finally, he responds, "Of course, I've always got time for you. Give me just a bit, yeah?"

Sirius agrees and then Remus' voice fades out, the muffled sounds returning before also trailing
away, silence settling back around Sirius in the empty, quiet house. It's another minute or two
before he hears the soft sound of door clicking in the background of the phone, and then Remus is
back.

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think there's something wrong?" asks Sirius in bafflement.

"I'm clever," declares Remus, tone not offering any amusement. "Tell me what's wrong, Sirius."

Sirius huffs and rolls his eyes. "Everything's fine, Remus," mutters Sirius. "I'm just…a little stuck."

"Stuck?" repeats Remus questioningly, voice perplexed.

"Yeah. Lily's having car troubles and James is in meetings all day. I can't get there," explains
Sirius.

"But you're home?" asks Remus sharply, almost demandingly.

"'Course. Yeah, I'm home. I didn't say I was stranded." Sirius thinks he hears a small sigh of relief
emit from the speakers of the phone and his mouth quirks up at one corner. "Prongs and Lily,
they've got this weird thing about me taking rides from strangers, like I'm a child or something.
Think I'm going to get nabbed, or my skin sliced off or something, I don't know. It's ridiculous if
you ask me, but I promised. S'pose I could try my bike. Doubt it would bother too much now."

"No, don't do that," objects Remus. "It could cause further problems."

"I think if I can handle pedaling a bloody pig boat, I can tolerate sitting still on my motorbike for
half an hour, Remus," grumbles Sirius testily.

"That's not the issue, Sirius," insists Remus. "You're exposed on your bike. One wrong move from
you or someone else, one tremble of you knee and your leg drops down, you could hurt yourself all
over again. No one wants that."

"That could happen at any time while I'm on the thing, mate," provides Sirius, though he knows it's
a stupid argument.

Remus is silent for a second before muttering, a rough edge to his voice, "Let's not talk about that
right now." A broad grin flashes over Sirius' face at the new knowledge that Remus is very clearly
concerned about Sirius' safety when it comes to his bike. It falters almost instantly at the man's
next words. "I'll come to you."

"W-what?" sputters Sirius. "No, Remus, that's not what I meant."

"I know it isn't, but it's fine," says Remus determinedly. "I'll come your way as soon as I'm finished
with who I have here now." He pauses then, a sense of hesitation lingering in the empty space
between Sirius and his phone. "If that's okay, I mean, with you and your friends? I don't want to…
intrude."

"No, that's all right, of course it is. They won't mind. It's just…" Sirius stops, considers protesting a
bit more, not wanting Remus to put himself out anymore for Sirius' sake than he already has. Rides
home near constantly, mistaken kisses and almost gropes, messing about with Sirius' back when it
isn't even part of the man's agreed job. But Sirius knows already that it'll be useless to try. "Okay.
You don't have to. I don't want you to feel obligated, but…if you want, I'm not saying no."

Remus chuckles faintly, the noise low in his throat and warm, filling the isolated room and
spreading through Sirius in a wonderful way. "I'll see you soon, Sirius," he promises, and then he's
gone, Sirius' phone flashing in front of his eyes and returning to its home screen, apps scattered
over a photo of the three Potters and Sirius together at the side of the pitch at the last match they'd
attended. A small smile pulls at Sirius' mouth as he stares down at their beaming faces, Harry
sitting between James' and Sirius' shoulders.

It's nearly another hour before there's a knock on the door – they don't have a chime anymore, Lily
having forcibly disconnected it one day in a fit of rage when Harry was a baby, the infant having
been woken up for the third time in as many hours because of the annoying sound – and Sirius
limps his way over to answer it. Remus is standing just on the other side, glancing around the
exterior of the house in mild curiosity. His eyes settle on Sirius when he realizes the door is open
and he smiles brightly. Sirius once again tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

"Hallo, Sirius," greets Remus.

Sirius can't stop the sappy smile from spreading over his face as he shuffles back carefully to allow
Remus access to the hall beyond the door. Remus steps inside and gazes around as Sirius swings
the piece of wooden closed, latches the lock, and then limps his way back into the sitting room,
Remus following along behind him, still taking in his surroundings.

"Nice house," comments Remus as Sirius sits back on the sofa, watching Remus stare around the
room. "Homey. It's exactly what I expected after all you've told me about your family."

Sirius' smile shrinks to something warmer, a glow settling in his chest. He watches as Remus trails
slowly over to the fireplace, taking in the small, framed photos resting on the mantelpiece. Most of
them are some version of Harry through his years, two from James' and Lily's wedding, one of just
them and the other with Sirius beaming beside them, one of the three of them from their last year at
school, another of James and Sirius with James' parents when they were teenagers, and one last one
of the four of them, James, Lily, and Sirius surrounding Harry on his fourth birthday, all four of
their faces smeared with cake and frosting.

Remus studies them all mostly in silence, humming occasionally, his eyes crinkling around the
edges. He taps one gently, a photo of Harry, grinning largely at the camera, mostly toothless in the
front of his mouth, his upper body sticking out of a large pile of leaves in the back garden, taken
only moments after Sirius had tossed him within it.

"Happy kid," comments Remus with a smile of his own, glancing over at Sirius.

Sirius releases a small sound, somewhere between a hum and a tiny laugh. "Yeah, he is," he
replies. "He's really fantastic."

Remus nods, still staring at Sirius. "I can tell. I can also tell you love him a great deal," he
murmurs. "And it's very clear from all your stories and comments about him that he feels the
same."

"My life before him feels sort of like a dream now, you know," says Sirius a little distantly. "Like it
didn't start until he came barging his energetic way into it." Sirius taps his knee. "That's one of the
good things about this whole mess, at least that's the way I'm choosing to look at it. I've missed a
lot of his life so far. Too much. Now I get to see him every day, talk to him, play with him, just
spend time with him however I want, or he wants. He always hated it when I'd have to leave again."

Remus' eyes shift over him for a quiet moment, processing his words, a soft expression on his face.
Then he hums and says, "You mean there's more than one good thing about your injury? Color me
yellow and intrigued." He provides Sirius with a lopsided smile as he references something Sirius
had said not long after their first meeting.

Sirius snorts faintly, staring at Remus, debating with himself over how to answer. "Well…yeah. I
mean, I met you, didn't I?" he supplies as lightly as he can, but even Sirius can hear the heaviness
lingering around the edges of his tone. But Remus only smiles at him, looking pleased. "Also,
Peter and Marlene and Rosmerta. You're all brilliant people, in case you've never realized."

Remus huffs faintly in amusement, his expression shifting a little, though he turns away, looking
back at the photos before Sirius can pin it down. "I might have noticed, yes," he responds. "S'pose
they're like my family of sorts, just like the one you have here."

Sirius watches Remus again as he moves further down the line of photos, pausing at each one and
studying them before moving on, showing each one the same amount of attention, similar to how
he does with people, Sirius has noticed. He can see the man's jaw twitching at the corner as his
smile grows with each image he finds, his ear even shifting a bit from the movement of the
muscles within his face.

Remus pauses in front of another photo, finger lifting and hovering but not quite touching the glass.
Sirius watches as the digit slowly drifts down over whatever he's staring at, his jaw relaxing almost
completely now, like the smile is almost gone, or incredibly soft and tender, though Sirius can't be
sure from his position.

He finally turns back to Sirius, the only difference in his expression now is that he looks slightly
more curious. Remus motions to the frame behind him and Sirius leans to the side a little to see. It's
the one of him and his two friends at school, standing at the side of the building near their favorite
tree on the grounds, arms wrapped around each other, Sirius and James at the edges with Lily in
the middle, looking as though she's being squished between them, though her smile is bright and
full of laughing exasperation.

"You, when you were still in school?" asks Remus, pointing to Sirius within the image.

Sirius nods in agreement. "Last year we were there, near the end."

"You haven't changed much," comments Remus, turning back to study the photo. "Though it's
been, what? Seven, eight years? Maybe a little taller now, slightly broader in the shoulders. Fitter,
more sculpted than you were then."

Sirius blinks in surprise, a little astounded Remus can tell all that from a simple photograph. "Eight
years," he confirms, not sure what else to say to the rest. "Was I meant to change more than that?"

"Some people do," replies Remus, not looking at him. "I did. Most people that knew me back in
my school days wouldn't recognize me now."
"Yes, but you cracked your way out of a shell. I did no such thing."

Remus glances over at him before his eyes shift to the photo and then back again contemplatively.
"Are you sure about that?"

Sirius balks a little. "Yes?" he says uncertainly. Remus chuckles suddenly and Sirius rolls his eyes
in exasperation, hiding the confusion still swirling around inside his head. "You. You're always
so…"

Remus arches a light eyebrow. "So what, Sirius?" he prods, a smirk spreading over his face.

Sirius huffs. "You," he supplies emphatically. A grin splits Remus' face in half.

"Bad thing?" Remus tilts his head a little to the side, brown eyes glittering and playfully mocking.

One black eyebrow drops low on Sirius' face, his mouth pulling to the side wryly. "No," he
grumbles.

Remus laughs and raises his hands, offering peace. "All right, all right," he submits. "I'm done
taking the piss. Ready to work?"

Sirius groans but it's in jest. Mostly. He knows the physio is the reason Remus is here at all, but he
enjoys these moments spent with the other man, when they're both simply themselves, no
obligations surrounding them, no pretense of therapist and patient. He likes talking with Remus,
sharing their views with one another, joking with him, learning new things, the small little details
that come out at odd times when it's the most surprising. He likes spending time with Remus
always, he's realizing, but the windows where they're not working and simply acting like friends
are his favorites, though he'd take Remus in any capacity.

Sirius is also coming to the conclusion that he likes having Remus within his space. Almost every
shared moment between them has been in a place that's distinctly Remus, shy of the park with the
buskers and the café they'd visited across from the lake. Remus' office, Remus' car, the side of the
pool where Remus reserves times for the people he treats that need such therapy, even Remus'
loathsome pedal boats that Sirius still detests; they all belong to Remus in some way, there and
used before Sirius almost literally fell into his life. This house, this home, this family, it belongs to
Sirius, and he's finding Remus' presence within it a welcoming thing.

Remus arches an eyebrow at Sirius, almost as though he can read the other's mind, a smile tugging
its way onto his face. Sirius returns the expression and pushes himself up from the sofa.

"Yeah, all right," he grumbles half-heartedly in agreement. "S'pose we must, mustn't we?" Sirius
glances around for a few seconds and then turns back to Remus, feeling a bit lost. "We don't have
any mats or the like…"

Remus releases a sudden chuckle and shakes his head. "They're not really necessary, or didn't you
realize?" he teases, staring across the room at Sirius fondly. "The mats only make it more
comfortable for you for such long periods of time, especially for someone such as yourself that
endures it every single day."

"Dunno that endure is the proper word," mumbles Sirius with a frown, and Remus' smile softens.

"Blanket is fine," he assures. "Or even the carpet. We won't get into the more difficult exercises
right now. We're on your ground today, Sirius. I'm not going to overwork you like I would in the
Playroom."
Sirius snorts as he moves across the room to a blank stretch of wall without any furniture nearby.
"Like I can be overworked," he scoffs. "Honestly, who do you take me for? Some run-of-the-mill,
bone idle minger?"

"If anyone ever calls you a minger, I'll have their head myself," remarks Remus as he watches
Sirius situate himself on the floor. Sirius looks up at him with a smirk, but Remus ignores it other
than rolling his eyes. "Can't be overworked, eh? We might have to test that theory once you're back
in the Playroom. Seems to be what you're so subtly telling me."

"S'long as it's not in the bloody pig, mate, do what you will," counters Sirius smoothly, grinning up
at Remus, his eyes following the man as he drops down to his knees on the carpet beside him.

Remus chortles as he removes Sirius' brace with nimble fingers, Sirius watching his movements
before he forces himself to stop and look back at Remus' face, telling himself that's better. "What is
it with you and that pig?" questions Remus, a little baffled. "It's just a pig carved into a boat, Sirius.
Sea monsters don't even exist and that's the one you initially wanted. At least pigs are real
creatures."

"Firstly, how dare you?" says Sirius reproachfully. "How do you know sea monsters don't exist?
Have you ever seen firm proof? Heard of Nessie? Mhm, that's all you should need for that one.
Also, sea monsters are wicked. B, it's a pig and not a bird. I don't care that they can actually swim,
it makes no sense and it shouldn't be allowed to exist. And for the lizard, the finisher, it's still a
bloody pedal boat and I will always hate it just for that incredibly simple fact that you refuse to
acknowledge is legitimate."

Remus blinks at him, like he's trying to follow Sirius' thought process. "Right, yes," he mutters
eventually, "because it's a very sane thing that should be legitimized. Yes, all right."

"I never said it was sane," denies Sirius fluidly. "But it is a legitimate fear, yes. I think you're on
your way to turning it into a phobia, actually, hope you're proud."

"Of you?" says Remus, expression softening from mirth to something that actually does resemble
pride. "You're bloody right I am."

Sirius beams up at him, the squirming in his insides threatening to overpower him again. They
continue to stare at one another for a long moment, silence and something else, something
unnamable, stretching between them.

Sirius is suddenly thrown back to a few weeks ago, to Remus' office, to being pressed up against
him, his hands wrapped around Sirius' wrists, gentle but firm. Chest pushing into chest with every
breath taken, heat radiating from beneath clothing, Remus always so very warm while Sirius
always feels cold, like there's ice in his veins, but fire in Remus' melting it all away. Staring up into
the brown that floods his entire vision, like being coated with honey, thick and smooth and sticking
to all the right places, the empty spaces that need filled at all times, something Sirius is slowly
realizing Remus does without even trying. Lips against lips, breaths passing between, the sharp
smell of citrus and something sweeter invading his nose, the way Remus' mouth had relaxed
against his own, lips parting ever so slightly.

Sirius' eyes flicker down to those same lips now before looking away just as quickly, cursing
himself silently for still wanting it, even after Remus had denied it so thoroughly. No muddling the
lines. No muddling them.

Remus is watching him silently, studying his face. For once, Sirius hopes the man isn't reading his
thoughts like he always seems to be able to do, as easily as reading words on the page of a book. If
he finds anything, he decides to ignore it, because he turns to Sirius' leg and starts bending it up,
stretching it, limbering it for their coming exercises. Sirius breathes a small sigh of relief.

They work for a while, taking breaks in between to simply chatter at one another, tossing banter
back and forth, filling the room with laughter and pleasant things. The pair transitions between
standing and sitting on the floor periodically as they move through the different exercises Remus
wishes to coach Sirius through for the day. When Remus announces that they're finished, they're
once more on the carpet. Sirius expects Remus to stand and start making his way to leave, but
instead, he drops from his knees to sit across from Sirius, his legs curling and crossing in front of
him as he settles in.

They continue talking, Sirius telling Remus about a band he'd recently discovered, a mostly new
one, almost entirely obscure, Remus listening avidly. Sirius eventually pulls out his phone and
plays a few of their songs when Remus seems truly interested in what Sirius has found. They listen
to the songs in silence, Sirius closing his eyes during one as the lyrics wash over him. When it
ends, he looks up to see Remus watching him.

"They're good," he says softly in the sudden silence. "Solid voice on the lead. Unsigned, you said?
That won't last long." Sirius nods in agreement, selecting another song. "Their songs aren't
particularly…uplifting, are they?"

"No, they're not," replies Sirius slowly, looking up at Remus again. "Some of them are, but not
many that I've found. But some of them have inspiring things hidden within."

Remus nods thoughtfully. "There's nothing wrong with unhappy music," he attests, like he's trying
to assure Sirius that he isn't judging. "Sometimes it's exactly what we need. There are people who
prefer this over the pep and brighter views of other songs. I can understand that. I have a good mix
myself, but some people might look at my selections and think they're all too horribly depressing. I
don't look at them like that. They have different meanings to me than they might to someone else.
Like a somewhat poignant song that's actually like watching the sun come out from behind the
clouds."

Sirius smiles at him before he looks back down at his phone, the song streaming out of it pulling
his thoughts. "Some of these make me think of the Potters. James, Lily, Harry, but also James'
parents. They all saved me, even when I didn't realize I needed saving. But most of them make me
think of my family, the one I left, the things I endured growing up in their house."

His thumb grazes over the sides of the metal in his hand. "Most people would think that's a bad
thing, something negative, but…it's not. It's more cathartic. Gives me perspective, clarity. Lets me
know I'm not the only one in the world with those same awful feelings inside myself." Sirius nods
his head down to the phone. "This one makes me think of my brother. My biological brother.
Regulus.

"I tried so hard to get him out with me," whispers Sirius, his face pinching in, throat attempting to
close up around the words. "They never treated him the way they did me, but he was always more
timid, easier to keep in control. He never really fought back against them, just fell in line. I never
did that. I struggled against everything they were and tried to make me, and I suffered for it. But
not him. He never struggled, never talked back, never stood up for himself, except for the few
times it could have made the most difference. He was complacent, he accepted his role in the life
he'd been born in to."

Remus stares at him as Sirius speaks, eyes soft, expression sympathetic. His hands twitch
periodically, like he wants to do something with them, but he doesn't, remaining still, simply
listening intently.
"I hated him for that," admits Sirius, voice barely there now, almost inaudible, hating himself for
saying the words. "I thought, when I was younger, that by him doing what he did, being who he
was, he was only making it worse on me. I thought that if we both stood up to our parents, showed
them neither of us could be controlled without extreme force, maybe they'd finally see it,
understand what they were doing, that they were killing us, at least in the ways it really mattered.
Like extinguishing a flame over and over that just kept springing back to life, but smaller each time.

"But he was only doing exactly what he needed to do. He conformed, kept himself as safe as he
could. Something I was always too stubborn and foolish to do myself. Which did only make it
worse for me. Our parents saw him minding the path they'd set, following along in the careful
design they'd set forward before we were even born, and they looked at me and saw a demon-eyed
monster that refused to accept what they thought were simple requests. They never stopped trying
to get me to be more like Regulus. Like I was a bent puzzle piece that they kept struggling to make
fit perfectly. Because he wasn't the piece they needed to finish, he wasn't the one they wanted. I
was the oldest, it was supposed to be me. I'm the heir to their entire line and fortune. And I wanted
none of it.

"When I got a bit older, was nestled in well with the Potters, saw what real family meant, felt what
love was supposed to be, I finally stopped blaming him, because he didn't have any of that. So I
started trying to give it to him, the best I could, because a small amount of affection from my best
mate's family still wasn't enough to wipe out years of cruelty," mumbles Sirius, finally looking up
to meet Remus' eyes. "He could never accept it, especially after I ran out, fled to somewhere better,
left him behind. But I tried, Remus. I tried to convince him to come with me, to leave, too. The
Potters would have taken him in without question, they told me as much the night I showed up at
their door, half hysterical, half comatose. But he wouldn't do it. He called me a traitor, said I wasn't
his brother anymore. Said he never wanted to see me again because I'd abandoned my family for a
substitute. It – that – that broke me, worse than anything else ever had. I couldn't bear to look at
myself for a long time. But I did try. I tried so hard and for so long, even when he stopped speaking
to me, I still tried to get him out with me, Remus."

Remus' hand moves then, finally, reaching out and clutching at Sirius' forearm, tightly. "I know,
Sirius," he says firmly. "You don't have to explain that to me. I know you tried everything you
possibly could."

The man seems to hesitate for a moment before he slowly moves closer on the floor, sitting beside
Sirius now instead of in front of him. Remus' free hand gradually lifts into the air, hovering in front
of Sirius' face for a brief moment before he seemingly makes a decision and warm fingers connect
with Sirius' skin. A thumb stretches out, rubbing over Sirius' cheek and under his eye. He looks
down at Remus' hand, baffled when it sees that the thumb is wet. It's only then that Sirius realizes
he'd started crying while talking about his brother.

He turns his head quickly, swiping at his eyes, embarrassment lacing through him like ice water
riddled with burning acid. Remus' hand falls away with the movement. Sirius instantly misses the
touch.

"Sorry," he mumbles, still not looking directly at the other man. "Didn't mean to load that all onto
your shoulders." Remus simply shakes his head, brushing it away like nothing had happened.

"Do you…" Remus begins but trails off, like he's considering his words with great care. "Have you
spoken with him since?"

Sirius sighs, picking at a piece of the carpet beside his thigh. "Not really, no," he admits. "After he
left school, with James' and Lily's help, I managed to get hold of his mobile number, because
apparently my parents changed everything after I left. I tried ringing him for a while. When that
didn't work, I resorted to texts. I'd sent him full monologues about how I was still around, I hadn't
disappeared. He could always contact me if he needed me for anything. I never got an answer, so
eventually I just started sending him random things. Photos, memes, stupid jokes, just trying to let
him know I was here. I did get a response once, him telling me to leave him alone or he was
changing his number. I still tried for a while, but eventually I had to stop, for my own sanity. Last I
heard he had fallen in with the family business, being groomed to take over for my father once he
steps down or croaks. It's what I was meant to do."

"It's not your fault, you know," says Remus quietly when Sirius falls silent again. "You can't force
someone into something they don't want or can't accept that they want. Life doesn't work like that,
unfortunately."

"Yeah, I know," replies Sirius, releasing another sigh and finally looking back at Remus now that
his eyes are clear again. "It took me a long time to accept that, and too many punches in the arm
from Prongs, but I realize – "

Sirius is suddenly cut off as the front door bangs open in the hall and the house fills with the
familiar sounds of a hurricane landing. There are three voices mingling together, one exasperated,
one aggravated, and one, smaller but louder than all the rest, demanding to be released.

" – really don't like them, Lils," grumbles James, a little breathless, clearly the one struggling with
Harry.

"I know you don't, love," comes Lily's tired voice, "but it is part of your job. It's what you agreed to
when you handed over most of the control. They still wanted your input on the things your father
always advised on. They clearly don't want to lose that. It's what keeps the company going and one
of the reasons it's always been so successful. A personal touch from someone who truly cares
about what they're doing."

"How does me advising on the new name for a product keep the company going? Why does that
matter?" demands James, even more breathless now. Sirius can hear Harry grunting, probably
trying to pull away from his father's grip, as him and Remus remain on the floor, listening. Remus
has tensed slightly, obviously not knowing exactly what to expect once they notice his presence in
their home, but Sirius isn't much worried about it, other than James, just a little. "New skin cream.
All right, fine, sounds brilliant. But I honestly cannot pretend to care whether it's named
Rejuvenation or Baby's Bottom."

There's a pause, consideration hovering in the air. "Actually, no, I do care about that. Baby's
Bottom sounds far better," amends James. "I'd use that one in an instant. But not everyone would,
that's my point! Why are they leaving this up to me? I'm horrible at naming things, according to
you. Can I let him go?"

"You are, yes," agrees Lily, sounding distracted, the noises of shuffling bags echoing from beyond
the sitting room door. "Hmm? Oh, for goodness – yes, Harry, go. Find Sirius, drain his energy for
a bit, sweetheart."

Sirius hears a triumphant cry, a chortle from James, and then the sounds of tiny, racing feet. He
barely has time to blink before there's a small body in front of him, hurtling against his chest and
into Sirius' expectant hands. He releases a grunt of sound at the impact as Harry's arms wrap up
around his neck.

"Padfoot!" he says enthusiastically, scrambling into Sirius' lap as Sirius effortlessly shifts his knee
out of the line of Harry's kicking feet. "You're home! You said you won't be home when I was.
You said!" Harry turns an accusing eye on him, still radiating excitement.

"Yes, well," provides Sirius, shifting Harry a little on his lap so the boy's boney knees are no longer
digging into Sirius' thighs, "Mummy got herself stuck, didn't she? So, therefore, I was also stuck."

"I heard that, Black," calls Lily, still within the hall with James. Sirius chuckles.

"Does that mean we can play?" asks Harry, bouncing a little in Sirius' arms, excitement nearly
spilling from his green eyes. "Who's that?"

Sirius blinks in confusion at the sudden subject shift until Harry turns to look at Remus, the boy's
face screwing up as he evaluates the unknown man. Remus' eyebrows lift as the attention is angled
his way, his eyes widening slightly, mouth pulling into a small, one-sided, uncertain smile as he
stares back at a critical Harry.

"That's Remus," answers Sirius, still laughing faintly. "You've heard me talk about Remus, haven't
you?" Sirius meets Remus' eyes, his own smile growing over his face. "Remus, this is Harry."

The awkward, lopsided expression disappears from Remus' face, replaced by a true smile, still
small and a little timid, but bright. "Hello, Harry," he greets pleasantly, Sirius seeing something
flash in his eyes as he speaks to the boy, like happiness. "I've heard a great deal about you, you
know? Sirius has told me all about your battles with the ghoul and the gnome. I look forward to
hearing more."

Harry studies him silently for a few passing seconds, eyes sweeping Remus' face. Then he nods,
like he's made a crucial decision. "You can play, too," he declares.

Remus looks a bit startled and Sirius barks out a sudden laugh, his arms tightening around Harry
briefly. Remus murmurs a delighted thanks to Harry as Lily finally makes her way into the room,
trying to keep her wet hair from dripping on the floor, remnants of the apparent rain that's now
outside.

"Who can play, too? Oh. Hello," murmurs Lily, curious at first and then fading to faint surprise.

She takes in the scene before her of the two men on the floor, Harry planted in Sirius' lap but
staring at Remus like a new toy he has to figure out how to work properly. Remus quickly pushes
himself up from the floor, Sirius following more slowly once he's rooted Harry up.

"James, it appears we have a guest," calls Lily over her shoulder, her mouth quirking at its corners.

"S'not Alice, is it?" mumbles James as he enters the room, loosening his tie sharply, expression
looking as though it's done something to wrong him. Admittedly, he doesn't wear one very often,
and he'd always hated them when they were in school and were required to wear them for their
uniforms. "I love you, Lily, and you know I'm fond of Al, but I'm not sure I can handle the giggles
tonight."

"I don't think wine-induced giggles will be much of a problem," supplies Lily in amusement as
James steps up behind her and then stops when he sees Remus standing next to Sirius.

"Oh, uh…'lo," mumbles James, seeming a little sheepish and awkward, which causes Sirius to
snort in amusement, knowing he's thinking about his rant at the front door.

"Sorry, Remus Lupin," says Remus, the pleasant mask he'd worn the first day he'd met Sirius
falling into place smoothly, his body relaxing immediately, as though he's coached himself through
these situations so that it becomes almost second nature. He offers his hand to James as he
continues. "Sorry for the intrusion. Sirius told me he couldn't make it today, so I came to him. I
hope that's all right. Lovely home."

Sirius bites the inside of his cheek hard, trying to contain laughter as Remus prattles on and James
blinks at the man, gaping a little. His hazel eyes shift to Sirius and Sirius smirks, motioning to
Remus behind the man's back. Behold, the wonder that is Remus Lupin.

James blinks again and then manages to shake his head subtly. "Right, no, it's fine. We don't really
deny people, do we, Lils? And er…thanks?" says James, accepting Remus' hand, his words
emerging very quickly before he manages to stem their flow a bit and get his wits back about him.
"No, I know who you are. Seen you a fair few times, haven't I, in passing?"

James glances over Remus' shoulder at Sirius, something like questioning disapproval flashing in
his eyes that Sirius hopes Remus doesn't pick up on. Sirius huffs silently and crosses his arms over
his chest, glaring at James as they fall back into their habit of speaking without words. Nothing's
happened. Piss off.

James' eyes narrow. Right. Big empty house. Nothing happened and you weren't planning for it.

Sirius' mouth pulls straight out to the side, one eyebrow cocking up slightly, eyes narrowing to
match James'. I wasn't! He came for physio. We'd only just finished, and I knew you lot would be
home soon. How stupid do you think I am?

Lily's throat clearing interrupts them from going further, Sirius glancing away from James to see
Lily watching on in faint amusement. Remus is staring between the two of them, looking baffled.

"What was that?" he asks Sirius.

"What was what?"

"Your face! You looked as though you were having some sort of fit," proclaims Remus, sounding a
little exasperated and greatly perplexed.

James' eyebrows shoot high up on his forehead, nearly disappearing under his chaotic fringe. Oh
shit.

Sirius ignores him and flashes Remus a charming smile. "Nothing. It was nothing," he states
flippantly, trying to brush it away.

Lily snorts and steps forward. "Don't mind them," she asserts to Remus. "It's something they've
done for years. Silent conversations through facial expressions. You get used to it. Mostly." She
shifts her gaze between the other two men caustically. Sirius merely smirks at her in return while
James has the foresight to look mildly demure. Lily turns back to Remus. "It's nice to see you
again, Lupin."

Remus startles a little, glancing at Sirius uncomfortably. Sirius stares back at him, one eyebrow
arched, questioning.

"Er, um…call me Remus," he mumbles out, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.

Lily beams. "Well, it's about time. I can't say I haven't wondered why I seem to be the only one left
out of this non-formalities nonsense," she says bluntly, though the smile spreading over her
glowing face belies the teasing underneath.

"Yeah, gotta say, Remus," prods Sirius slyly, stepping up beside him to see his face better, "I've
been curious about that, too. Care to enlighten us?"

Remus stops rubbing his neck but leaves his hand in place, like he's trying to pull himself down
and bury his entire body beneath the carpet at his feet. "Can't say I want to, no," he mutters.

Sirius nudges the man in his side with his elbow, grinning, ribbing him a little. Remus huffs as
everyone continues to stare at him in amusement other than James, who still looks a little
unbalanced. Remus mumbles something under his breath that Sirius can't understand, but
apparently Lily does, because her eyes widen comically before she begins laughing uproariously.
Sirius' brow furrows in curiosity.

"Sorry, what was that?"

Remus sighs heavily, dropping his hand finally and looking up at the ceiling. "She was
intimidating," he admits with a weary edge. "I panicked."

Sirius bites down on the inside of his cheek again until it's nearly painful, fighting back his mirth.
James, who until that point was still looking a little gobsmacked, clearly has no such reservations.
He chokes a little, glances at Lily, and then he's bending almost double as his own laughter
overtakes him, joining in with his wife's. Remus bows his head and pinches at the bridge of his
nose, groaning softly. He looks back up at Sirius, glaring faintly, though his brown eyes are
dancing.

"Oh, go on, then," he mutters, and Sirius releases his own exploding chuckles of hilarity. Remus
rolls his eyes, which only serves to increase the sounds coming from Sirius, but as Remus watches
him, he smiles, a gentle sort of twitch to his mouth, his gaze softening. It calms Sirius more than
anything else, his stomach providing him with that curious little flutter again.

Harry has joined in on the laughter now, too, his voice sounding loud and exaggerated above all the
others. Sirius knows the boy is mainly laughing because the adults are more so than because he'd
understood what was being said above him. Sirius scoops him up and turns him upside down,
Harry squealing in delight and letting out a true giggle as Sirius swings him back and forth through
the air, Remus watching them, the same expression on his face.

"Remus, you should stay for dinner," suggests Lily once her mirth has mostly faded. "We always
have more left than I know what to do with."

Remus blinks, turning to look at her as though emerging from a trance. A different sort of smile
spreads across Lily's face that Sirius catches but doesn't understand.

"Oh, no. That's kind of you to offer, but I can't impose like that. I've already done that more than –
" attempts Remus, fidgeting slightly, shifting from foot to foot, something Sirius has never
witnessed before and is finding great joy in viewing.

"Nonsense," interjects Lily, stopping Remus from protesting. "It's always a lively affair with these
three around. You won't be sorry. Absolute chaos at every meal. Please stay. Be another voice of
reason with me, won't you?"

Remus glances at James, who simply shrugs at him, before looking to Sirius.

"What is it tonight, Remus?" questions Sirius astutely. "More day-old, cold noodles?"

Remus' mouth pulls into a tight line as Sirius chortles before he turns back to Lily with a smile.
"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."
"Excellent," chirps Lily happily. "I'm making cottage pie. Someone refuses to eat lamb, so we're
forced to be urchins in this household." She shoots Sirius a playfully disapproving look as Remus
glances at him curiously.

"You grow up in the house I did and see how fond you are of lamb once you have it braised and
glazed near constantly," scoffs Sirius. "I'll be happy if I never see another piece of lamb or
pheasant for the remainder of my life."

"Madness," mumbles James, smirking at Sirius. "It's shepherd's pie, Sirius. It's different."

"Not different enough! Still in there, innit?"

"Sometimes I just can't even talk to you."

"No one said you had to, did they?"

"You say I have to. Constantly. You even text me during the night."

"Well, I miss your voice, you tosser."

"That's enough, boys," mutters Lily, turning to head to the kitchen. "It's like having three toddlers, I
swear it is."

Sirius beams at her retreating back, waiting until she's out of the room before he lifts a fist and
punches James in the arm. James squawks indignantly, clutching at the appendage and glaring
daggers at Sirius, though Sirius knows he's not actually hurt.

"Ah, that sweet, beautiful voice," says Sirius divinely. He turns away from James before he can
respond, lowering a still dangling Harry back to the floor. "Ready to play, sprog?"

"Yes!"

"All right, then," responds Sirius, smiling at Harry's obvious excitement. "It's raining now, can't go
outside. Want to show Remus your room and toys?"

Harry scampers off in answer, racing ahead of them up to his room. Sirius chuckles and motions
with his head for Remus to follow him from the sitting room, leading him to the stairs and the
second floor, Remus matching Sirius' slower, limping pace as they mount each step.

--------------------

"So, there's Sirius standing by the edge of the lake," James is saying to a laughing Remus, "me just
gaping because…well, he's an idiot. He's always been an idiot, hasn't he? What am I meant to do to
stop him? He has enough time to ditch his trainers off and shed his tie and shirt before the
professors are bearing down on top of us. And he just…jumps in. But then he doesn't come back
out. The groundskeeper had to jump in and grab him. Came back out spluttering, half-drowned, in
nothing but his socks and pants."

"I was trying to find that squid they kept prattling on about," defends Sirius. "S'not my fault I got
tangled by an entire bloody tree once I was down there, is it? Never did get those trousers back.
Pity, that. They were nice. Comfortable. Roomy."

James rolls his eyes. "Because you need the room," he mutters caustically.

"Do, actually. It's perfectly normal to be jealous, Potter. Don't worry. I'll give you another peek
later. Make you feel a bit better. I know you've always liked it," jests Sirius, waggling his eyebrows
depravingly.

"Should've fed the bloody thing to that squid," mutters James.

"Don't think he didn't try to take a piece! I'm fairly certain he was half of that tree that caught me
and held on. Probably why my trousers never turned back up. He kept a souvenir. Can't say I
blame him. I'm a work of art."

James gags as Lily snorts in amusement. Remus is bent over again, laughter overtaking him once
more, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye.

"All right, enough," he says breathlessly through his mirth. "I can't hear anymore. And I know
without any doubt that there is far more."

"You're correct about that," voices James, looking proud of himself as he gazes over Remus.
"These are the tame ones in comparison."

Remus turns his stare to Sirius, gaping. Sirius smirks at him. "You've held out on me," he utters. "I
thought I knew what to expect here based on the things you've told me, but I was not prepared."

Sirius throws his head back in a bark of laughter, kicking his legs out in the chair next to him.
They're sitting around the table, empty plates scattered, Harry occupying himself on the kitchen
floor with a couple push cars and a plastic dinosaur. James, Sirius, and, in a few instances, even
Lily, had been regaling Remus with tales of their school days for close to an hour now, the man
becoming both more amused and horrified with every passing story.

Sirius leans forward and begins unstrapping his brace. "Can't say I didn't try," he replies. "I did tell
you about the squid and the lake." Sirius glances up, seeing Remus staring at his hands as they
move over the brace. "Sorry. Need to let it breathe."

Remus raises his hands, shaking his head. "Nothing wrong with that. And you telling me about
your secret swims and James sticking a fork in the wall was not preparation for any of this."

"Oi!" cries out James, turning an indignant glare on Sirius, who looks back at his friend innocently,
his grey eyes glinting impishly. "You told him? Padfoot!"

"Prongs!" whinges Sirius in return, his smirk forming again. "Everyone – and I do mean everyone
because I tell people first chance I get – deserves to know that spectacular failure of yours. I will
never keep it to myself, and you can't make me."

James scowls at him as Sirius discards the brace beside him on the floor and then leans back in his
chair triumphantly. Sirius bounces one eyebrow on his head at his friend, causing him to glare with
more heat, Sirius cackling at him.

"Remus, do you have any plans for the weekend?" questions Lily, shifting the subject before James
and Sirius devolve into one of their small spats.

"Not really, no," answers Remus, following along, though he still glances between the other two
men in amusement. "Probably go to the office tomorrow to sanitize the machines if I don't do it
tonight. Peter and I usually do something, but he's got this girl now, so I've been trying to give him
space to woo."

"Ah, the wonderful Emmeline," speaks up Sirius excitedly. "That's going well, then?" He glances
at Lily. "You'll be happy to know that I advised on that one. Tell me again I don't know how to do
relationships."

"I never said you don't know how to do them!" defends Lily in near outrage. "Just that you don't do
them. There is a difference."

Sirius hums. "You know I have my reasons," he says to her, his expression turning a little darker
before he glances back at Remus and it brightens again. "Tell Pete he's ace and to surprise her with
something small he knows she likes. Her favorite sweet, a good book, cozy little jumper or blanket.
Sends a good message, that he'd like to just curl up with her at home and be with her instead of
constantly running about. She'll like it, I guarantee."

Remus considers him for a solid few moments. "I will, yeah," he finally murmurs, looking faintly
surprised. "You're good at this. He said as much, that you gave good advice, probably saved him
from mucking it up while I was gone. He was right."

"Don't know why everyone's always so shocked. Natural flirt, remember?" All three of the people
surrounding him at the table snort in mocking disbelief or scoff. "Oi, I am! I'm brilliant at the
flirting! Always have been. Cruel people, you lot, trying to make a bloke think he's not."

"Flirting and romance are two completely different things, mate," comments James, beginning to
stack plates on top of one another.

"Mm, maybe," concedes Sirius, leaning his head back a bit and threading his fingers through his
hair, ruffling it a little as he does so. "But clearly I'm fantastic at both, let's all acknowledge that,
please."

Remus watches him as he moves, Sirius catching his gaze and pausing with his hands halfway back
through another pass of his long black locks. Sirius flashes him a small smile, and he thinks he sees
a faint flush stain the other man's face, but he can't be sure. Lily eyes them, one corner of her
mouth twitching upwards.

"So, Remus," she begins, leaning forward and placing her chin in her hand, "have you got someone
special?"

Remus blushes furiously at the question as Sirius nearly chokes on his tongue and James drops
some of the cutlery from his hands, rattling across the stacked plates. The two dark headed men
glare at Lily, but she ignores them. So does Remus, thankfully.

"Um, no. No, I don't," says Remus awkwardly. "My work doesn't allow for a lot of outside
socializing, unfortunately."

Lily hums knowingly. "So, you'd essentially have to meet someone through a mutual friend or
through your work, then?" she asks, a great deal of interest filling her expression.

"S'pose I would, yeah," agrees Remus, sounding a little reluctant, his eyes shifting sideways down
the length of the table but not actually settling on anything or anyone.

Lily hums and James shoots her a reproachful stare hidden behind mild curiosity, something
probably only Sirius and Lily pick up on. "Have someone in mind, Lils?" he asks pleasantly, tone
piqued with general interest, though there's a tightness to it.

Lily turns to gaze up at him, a brief flash of warning crossing her eyes. "Possibly," she responds
sweetly, smiling at him, razors at its edges. "I do know so many people, after all. Whoever knows
who's going to be the right fit for someone else? But I could certainly give it a good try." She says
this last bit to Remus, the barbs gone from her eyes and smile.
"Uh, thanks, but I'm good, Lily," dismisses Remus, still shifting uncomfortably in his chair, eyes
not meeting hers. "I really don't have the time. Other interests fill it right now."

"Shame," bemoans Lily in faint disappointment, her gaze flickering to Sirius briefly. "I think I
could have found someone perfect for you given the chance. Suppose you're too wrapped up with
certain patients, right?"

Sirius groans inwardly, nearly releasing it out loud before he manages to stifle it. But Remus
simply smiles at her and says cryptically, "Something like that, yes."

Lily stands then, helping James grab the remainder of the dishes on the table. Remus makes to
help, but Lily waves him off.

"No, it's fine, we can get this. You're our guest. First night is free around here. After that is when
we start pushing things off on you," she says, humor in her tone. "You two just stay here and chat,
hm?"

James and she wander off to the other side of the kitchen then, James glaring daggers at her. Lily
returns them easily. Faint hisses and muttered words slip over to the table, but they're too low for
either of the men to make anything particular out.

Sirius huffs and rolls his eyes. "Sorry about her," he offers to Remus with an apologetic expression.
"Those two have always been under the impression that if someone isn't happily coupled up and
nested, there's something wrong that needs fixed. They don't let it go easily, believe me."

"You get that often, do you?" asks Remus, arching a light eyebrow at him.

Sirius shrugs one shoulder. "About once a week, yeah," he admits. "I've learned to tune most of it
out. Lily's been looking for someone new to turn her sights on. Guess she found it in you. God
speed, mate. You'll need it."

"Color me thrilled," mutters Remus, though there's amusement in his voice.

"What color's that, then?" teases Sirius and Remus snorts in laughter.

Before Remus can reply or they can continue their conversation, Sirius feels something bump his
chair. He leans sideways and looks down, spying Harry crawling out from under the table, like he's
sneaking. He narrows his eyes, watching his godson in intrigue, trying to figure out what he's
doing. Remus gazes across the table curiously.

Harry emerges completely from beneath the table, casting a glance up at Sirius as he turns a little.
His green eyes widen when he sees Sirius watching him, grin splitting over his face. He leaps to
his feet and then snatches Sirius' brace from the floor before racing away.

"Oi! What d'you think you're doing, you little sneak?" demands Sirius, laughing as he watches
Harry steal across the kitchen, Sirius' brace still hanging from his giggling hands. When Harry
darts beyond the sitting room door and peeks back around to grin at him, Sirius chuckles and
shakes his head. "C'mon, Harry, you can't play with that. I need it, sprog. Bring it back."

Harry giggles again and disappears behind the door. Sirius sighs, mostly in amusement as he stands
and rounds the table toward the sitting room.

"Oh, Sirius, sit back down," urges Lily, turning away from James when she hears the commotion.
"I'll get it from him."
"It's fine, Lils. I've got it. He just wants to play and show off because Remus is here," says Sirius,
shooting a smirk in Remus' direction, the man snorting back at him. "Why not let him? It's been
raining all day. Let him run some of his energy out."

"I still don't think it's a good idea for you to be chasing him," insists Lily in faint concern.

"I'm not chasing him. That requires running," mumbles Sirius as he approaches the sitting room
and slowly, tauntingly, pushes the door wider, searching out the still giggling boy hiding within.
"Can't do that yet. I'm just…egging him on a bit."

Lily huffs out a breath of air, and Sirius doesn't have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes. He
grins to himself and takes a limping step inside the next room, eyes shifting around until he spies
Harry's messy shock of black hair sticking up behind the side of the sofa.

"Oh, woe is me in my misery," announces Sirius dramatically, taking another step toward the small
snickers he can hear emerging. "Harry Potter's run off with my brace and now I'm all alone and
sad. Whatever shall I do? Maybe I'll flop down here right beside the sofa and hope something
catches me."

Harry suddenly shrieks loudly, the noise sending a small, delighted thrill through Sirius as he steps
forward again and stands over a beaming Harry. The boy darts away just as Sirius swoops down
and fakes trying to grab him, his fingers barely grazing the boy's shirt before he's gone. Sirius
laughs and takes off again slowly, following Harry as he rounds the corner to the hall and begins
racing back toward the kitchen.

"Harry, come on," calls James from the kitchen, amusement clear in his voice as Harry and Sirius
continue to laugh. "Run and play all you want but give Padfoot back his brace. He needs it, mate."

Harry pauses in the middle of the hall, turning to glance at Sirius in silent, breathless question.
Sirius grins at him, lunging forward a little, as much as his leg will allow, and Harry squeals again
in excited delight. He rushes down the remainder of the hall and back into the kitchen, Sirius still
giving chase, hoping to amuse the boy for as long as possible before one of his parents forces him
to stop.

Sirius is just about to step back into the kitchen, hand reaching out to push the door out of his way,
when his knee suddenly gives way beneath him, not having the brace to keep it locked in place
under his weight. He stumbles, catches himself on the door, feels a small wave of relief, but then
the door swings forward, and Sirius is crashing to the floor. His leg twists under him painfully,
knee connecting with a sickening sound against the hardwood in the hall. He cries out, can't contain
the sound, his vision wobbling and turning black around the edges.

"Sirius!" shouts Remus, probably the only one of the three adults who'd witnessed the entire scene.
Sirius hears frantic footsteps pounding across the floor, but everything fades in and out for him
after that, the pain in his knee excruciating.

He feels hands on him, pushing him firmly and rolling him over, facing up, no longer on his
stomach. Sirius thinks someone is shaking him for a while until he realizes it's his body trembling,
radiating with shock and pain. Hands on his knee, fingers testing, pulling sounds from him until
even those fade away. Flashes of hands drifting, certain and assured in their touch, searching for
something, maybe possible additional injuries. Voices speaking around him, one calmer than the
others but tight at the edges, strained. Cold. Something cold against the skin of his leg, arching his
back until the hands press him back down. Then at his face, gentle fingers on flesh, trying to coax
his eyes open, speaking to him but he can't respond, holding his breath. Faint sounds, moans and
whimpers and gasped words. Cries. Crying. Tiny, frightened whimpers mixed in with the sound of
hiccupping sobs coming from an impossibly small body.

Sirius' eyes fly open, his head craning around, fighting through the pain still lacing his entire body,
searching out the noise, finding him in the middle of the kitchen floor. Harry, knees pulled up in
fear, body shaking with misery, wide green eyes fixed on Sirius.

"Harry," Sirius pants out breathlessly. "Harry, don't."

Firm fingers still pressed to the side of his face force Sirius to look in a different direction. His eyes
meet brown as Remus stares down at him with intense concern, his gaze calculating, evaluating,
but flooded with nearly as much fear as Harry.

"Sirius, are you hurt anywhere other than your knee?" demands Remus, voice still calm and mostly
soothing, barely belying the underlying panic within it. "Ankles, legs, head? Anywhere at all."
Things fade out again for a few seconds, Sirius' vision growing blurred around the edges, until
Remus touches his cheek again and brings him back into focus. "Sirius, are you hurt?"

Sirius swallows roughly and then he grinds out through gritted teeth as his voice returns, "Yes, I'm
bloody well hurt. Fucking hell, Remus." And Sirius is suddenly just as scared, looking up at
Remus, almost pleading, begging him to say anything other than what Sirius already knows to be
true.

"I know," says Remus quietly, and his face doesn't change from the calm, professional mask he's
wearing. It's his eyes that shift, settling deeper, somehow, the brown darkening, nearly losing all
color. Remus' eyes tell Sirius that he knows, too. All other emotions fade from Sirius now, leaving
only horrible acceptance in their wake.

Remus' mouth twitches but remains in its neutral stance as he says suddenly, "Right." He looks
away from Sirius, up at Lily. "You've got more ice packs?" Lily nods frantically, looking as
panicked as Sirius had felt moments ago. "I need them. Don't pull all of them just yet, we'll have to
cycle through. Do you have a bath?"

"There's one in our bedroom's ensuite," informs James. "Large clawfoot. Big enough to hold him."
James looks over Sirius, a pained expression on his suddenly too pale face as their eyes meet. "It's
upstairs. I'll help you get him there."

Remus nods and stands. "Can you pull him upright while I hold his leg steady? I don't want to risk
it bending too much," he says, voice authoritative and assertive as he takes control of what's
happening within the house. James replies that he can, and Remus looks back down at Sirius,
meeting his gaze for a moment, expression softening back out, looking apologetic and regretful.
"This is going to hurt a great deal, Sirius. I'm sorry."

Sirius closes his eyes, inhaling a deep breath as he nods his head. "Just do it," he says, steeling his
resolve.

Remus looks over him one more time, his face finally pulling and twisting to match the emotion
filling his eyes. Then he's bending over Sirius' legs, getting his hands positioned around Sirius'
knee, apologizing profusely as Sirius hisses out in pain, and motioning to James to lift him up.

James slots his arms under Sirius', wrapping around his chest, then he's pulling him up from the
floor, as straight in the air as he can manage. Remus supports his leg, keeping it from moving as
much as possible until James gets him up as high as he can. Remus then shifts his hands, keeping
one splayed and braced under Sirius' knee as the other moves up to the midpoint of his thigh. Once
it's settled, he drops the hand still behind Sirius' knee, slipping it slowly to his ankle and gripping
firmly, making sure he has full control over how Sirius' leg moves.

As gently and easily as Remus can, he allows Sirius' leg to lower and swing underneath him,
guiding it along. Sirius nearly bites through his tongue to restrain the cry of pain that wells up in
him at the grinding shift of his joint and damaged ligaments, but a low, nearly guttural moan
escapes from his throat, nothing Sirius can do to stop it. Remus looks up at him from where he's
now kneeling on the floor as he continues to guide Sirius' leg down, his face strained, eyebrows
knitted together tightly, a deep crease between them as he frowns in distress.

"I'm sorry, I know. I'm so sorry," he murmurs, looking back down until Sirius' leg is settled,
making sure his foot remains lifted off the floor. Remus looks at Sirius again as he stands and
rounds to his left side next to the damaged knee, wrapping his arm around Sirius' waist.

"We're going to get you upstairs," Remus tells him, face still pinched as he stares down at Sirius
and James releases his hold to come around to his other side, arm slotting in back under Sirius',
above Remus'. "You're going to have to keep you leg supported like when you used the crutches.
Think you can do that?"

Sirius is panting from the near blinding pain still radiating through him, but he manages a sharp,
jerky nod. James and Remus glance at one another before they start walking, supporting most of
Sirius' weight, Sirius trying to focus on keeping his foot from dropping to the floor. He can hear
Lily behind them trying to soothe a still upset and crying Harry. Sirius tries to turn to look at the
boy, not liking the guilt and suffering in his sobs, but Sirius can't see him from his positioning.

The two men eventually manage to get Sirius up the stairs and into the ensuite through James' and
Lily's bedroom, but it's a slow progress. Sirius' ragged gasps of pain every few minutes as his leg
swings freely beneath him build up and keep forcing them to stop until it passes a little and he taps
them to tell them to continue. Once inside, they carefully settle him down on the toilet. Lily
follows in after them with a few ice packs in her arms, setting them in the sink basin.

"Use whatever you need from the cupboard, Remus," she tells the man as he crouches in front of
Sirius to help him straighten his leg back out.

"Thanks," he mumbles distractedly, his sharp, focused eyes shifting constantly between Sirius' face
and his knee, like he's trying to account for everything all at once.

Remus eventually stands again, running a hand back through his mess of waving hair, his fingers
stopping at the back of his head and staying there as he stares down at Sirius. He exhales a long
breath of air.

"Here's what we're going to do," he finally begins to explain, his voice back to the calm comfort it
had held the first day Sirius had met him in his office. Remus drops his hand finally, arm falling
back against his side. "I told you heat and ice are best for most things. Soothes and reduces
inflammation quickly. That's what we need now. We're going to get you in the bath with some
warm water. Keep you there for a while and then I'll lift your knee out and hold some ice packs to
it for just as long. We'll do that in an alternating fashion until I think it's had time to work its magic.
Sound good?"

Sirius closes his eyes as he exhales a shuddering breath, nodding his head in assent. When his
eyelids flutter back open a few seconds later, Remus is crouching in front of him, his brown eyes
still concerned but his face open, hiding nothing.

"Still trust me?" asks Remus in a quiet voice, the sound echoing off the walls surrounding them.
Sirius' answer comes without hesitation. "Yes," he whispers, his own voice refusing to go louder
through the shockwaves racing up and down his leg, but it's enough for Remus. The corner of his
mouth twitches up into a faint, barely existent smile as he nods once and stands again.

Then he's rooting through the cupboard above the basin, searching for anything he can use almost
frantically, though Sirius can tell he's trying to hide it. He instructs James to start filling the bath
with hot water and pulls a few packets from the cupboard, ripping them open with his teeth before
dumping powdery substances into the water. Lily has disappeared again, Sirius finally notices,
probably back down with Harry. Once the bath is filled, Remus turns back to Sirius.

"We're going to strip you to your pants, all right?" he says, a small amount of question in his tone.
Sirius nods and pulls his shirt over his head, depositing it on the floor as James crouches down and
removes his socks. Then they're both lifting him from the toilet, supporting him with one hand each
as they work his trousers down from his hips and off his legs, Remus handling and manipulating
the damaged one as James keeps a firm hold on Sirius.

They guide him to the bath after, a task made infinitely more difficult because of the high sides.
The pair have to lift him over in the end, James grunting faintly from the effort. Remus does his
part one-handed without making a sound, helping Sirius lift his injured leg with the other so it
doesn't knock against the edge. Once Sirius is mostly settled within the water, they both release
him, Remus stripping off his button up hanging open over his usual faded band shirt beneath,
discarding it carelessly along with Sirius' clothing. His hands and forearms dip into the water,
fingers of one hand pressing into the sides of Sirius' knee, massaging gently as he grips his ankle
with the other, coaxing it down.

"That's it," he encourages Sirius soothingly. "Straight as you can, it should take most of the tension
off it."

When Remus is satisfied with Sirius' positioning, he withdraws his arms from the water, James
handing him a towel to dry them with. He seats himself on the edge of the bath, withdrawing his
phone from his jeans pocket to set a timer before stashing it away again. James hovers for a long
time, staring over Sirius, his face pallid and anxious, eyes creased behind his glasses. Sirius knows
his friend is worried, can tell by how quiet he's been, James never remaining silent for long unless
he's nervous or afraid. Sirius wants to say something that will ease his fears, but there's nothing he
can think of that will work, Sirius having trouble calming his own unnerved mind.

James eventually disappears from the room as well, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. Sirius listens
to his friend's retreating footsteps until he can no longer hear them before looking up and meeting
Remus' eyes, the man already gazing at him studiously.

"This is bad, isn't it?" says Sirius, knowing the question is mostly rhetorical. He's known since he
hit the floor.

Remus exhales a sigh, a small noise, barely more than a tiny press of air in the space between
them. "Probably," he says honestly, because Remus is always truthful with Sirius. "I'd like to get
you in for new scans as soon as we can. Tomorrow, if possible. Try to see what – I just need to see
it, Sirius."

The timer on Remus' phone chirps, echoing around the room. He silences it, dipping his hands
back into the water and slowly drawing Sirius' knee above the surface, Sirius gritting his teeth
against the searing pain. Remus looks apologetic again as he dries his hands and grabs two of the
packs Lily had left in the basin. He presses one to the front and the other to the underside of Sirius'
knee, wincing as Sirius hisses against the sudden cold, and then holding them there with his bare
hands.
They sit in silence for a while, Sirius watching Remus' hands, thinking it must be becoming
increasingly painful to keep his hold on the frozen packs, but Remus isn't reacting, his eyes still
shifting over Sirius, like he's waiting for something. Sirius swallows around the lump in his throat.

"It feels worse than last time," he admits in a whisper.

Remus' fingers clench around the packs. "It hadn't fully healed yet, Sirius," he responds nearly as
softly. "That's to be expected, unfortunately."

"Which is why you're worried."

"Which is why I'm worried," agrees Remus solemnly.

Sirius leans his head back against the curving edge of the bath, eyes fixing on the ceiling. "I'm not
coming back from this, am I?" mutters Sirius, having already accepted his fate.

"No, we don't know that," denies Remus quickly. "We don't know anything yet, Sirius. You don't
know what's going to happen."

Sirius looks back up at him suddenly, head jerking off the porcelain behind him, enraged eyes
fixing on Remus. "Like I didn't know this?" he demands crossly, gesturing to his knee clutched in
Remus' hands, water sloshing violently around him. "Tell me, Remus, with all the experience you
have, all the cases like mine you've seen or studied, how many injure themselves twice in the same
way and come back from it? Especially professional athletes, because I have to say, I've never
heard of a single one. But go on, please. Tell me how shortsighted I'm being. Fight for me,
Remus." Sirius nearly spits the last words from his mouth in his anger and despair.

Sirius expects anger in return. He expects Remus' expression to morph into something fueled with
rage or something hurt to form in his brown eyes. Remus doesn't take the bait, continuing to look at
Sirius, the features of his face still twisted and arranged with nothing but deep care and worry, his
brow furrowed, mouth turned down at its corners.

Remus leans forward, making certain Sirius continues to meet his gaze and doesn't look away. "I
am, Sirius," he says ardently, voice never rising higher than the same soft tone he's used since
Sirius entered the bath. "Every bone and every muscle are different, do you remember that? Every
person is different. And you are not most people. You're stronger than all of them. Do you
remember that?"

Sirius blinks, thrown off balance again by the words and the man leaning over him. There's
something in his eyes and his voice that Sirius can't pin down. He feels as though there's always
something there, just beneath the surface that Remus is hiding. The feeling never goes away, even
when they're just talking about nothing at all, there's always a look or a twitch of a mouth or a
quickly stowed expression that Remus gives him that confuses Sirius further and more deeply than
he's ever been before.

"I don't understand you," says Sirius before he can stop the words. Remus pulls away from him, his
features finally flickering and altering, like he's now the one confused, stuck in a place of limbo,
unable to move in one direction or the other. He opens his mouth to speak, to question it maybe,
but nothing comes out before James is entering the room again, glancing between them with raised
eyebrows.

"Brought some new ice packs," he tells them, depositing them in the basin.

Remus seems to shake himself clear of whatever Sirius had temporarily trapped him in, pulling the
now mostly melted packs from his leg and handing them over to James. His hands return to Sirius'
knee, pressing it back beneath the water, Sirius surprised to feel the cold already fading out of
them, their normal warmth returning quickly before they're submerged in the hot water.

Sirius looks up at James earnestly. "How's the Prongslett?" he asks, almost pleadingly.

James looks incredibly weary suddenly. "Still upset. Lily only just got him to stop crying," he
replies quietly and Sirius grimaces. "He's a little scared, I think."

Sirius' eyes widen as he stares up at his friend and James hastens to add, "Not of you, Pads. But he
thinks it was his fault. He's never really seen anyone get hurt before other than a few scrapes and
bruises, has he? It's a lot for a four-year-old to process. He'll be all right."

"Don't let him come up here," says Sirius desperately. "It'll only make it worse."

James shakes his head. "I won't, mate. Don't worry. Lils has him in his favorite chair in the sitting
room, trying to sing to him, calm him down. Seems to be working. He'll be fine, Sirius."

Sirius desperately wants to believe James' words, but he feels more panic mount inside him. He
loves Harry so much. He doesn't want him to be scared, to feel guilty. They'd only been playing
and an accident had happened. Harry hadn't known any better than Sirius. Fear builds that the small
four-year-old is traumatized beyond repair by thinking he's the reason his godfather is now injured
again.

James shuffles back out as Sirius stares down into the water sightlessly, all thoughts of his and
Remus' conversation gone, now focused solely on Harry. Remus keeps watching him as they work
through another couple rounds of the alternations before removing the last ice pack and gently
prodding and massaging into the skin around Sirius' knee, testing it.

"Most of the initial swelling's gone down," he tells Sirius as he pulls his hands from the water and
dries them, "and I don't feel any new inflammation trying to form just yet. Looks like it worked."
Remus smiles down at Sirius encouragingly when Sirius' expression doesn't shift from its morose
state. "That's good, Sirius. Come on, let's get you out of there."

Remus steps out of the ensuite to call for James before he returns, grabbing a new towel. James
appears a few minutes later, clothing in his hands that he deposits before joining Remus at the side
of the bath, both men slotting their hands around Sirius again and lifting him out. Remus makes
sure Sirius is settled and stable with James before he leaves the ensuite, allowing James to help
Sirius dry and swap out his dripping pants for new ones. Once they're finished, James urges Remus
back in and they both help Sirius work on a pair of loose joggers.

The pair manage to get Sirius through the top floor of the house and settled into his own bed,
Remus making sure Sirius' leg is propped up with pillows before he disappears from the room as
Lily enters. She sits on the side of his bed and offers him a glass of water and a couple tablets.

"Take those," she advises. "They'll ease the pain and help you sleep a little better."

Sirius accepts the offerings and swallows them down in one go, his entire leg still screaming in
pain even after Remus' careful ministrations and work. He breathes heavily after he drains the glass
and hands it back to Lily.

"How are you?" she asks gently. Sirius simply stares back at her, not knowing what to say or if he
can even say anything at all. Lily nods slowly in understanding, her mouth pulling into a very
small, incredibly sad smile as her hand lifts and rests over his cheek. "I know, luv. I know."
Sirius leans into the touch as he listens to the sounds of James' and Remus' voices floating in from
the hall outside his room, but he tunes them out when he catches sight of movement. He glances
over to the door, seeing Harry's wary face peeking around its side, watching Sirius fearfully. Sirius
frowns.

"Come here, moppet," he says softly, patting at his thigh, urging Harry inside.

The boy slowly slinks through the door and over to the bed, Lily lifting him up and placing him on
Sirius' right to keep him away from the injured leg. Harry is looking down at the blankets, not even
chancing a glance at Sirius' face.

"Harry," murmurs Sirius. His green eyes flicker up and immediately drop again. "Harry, I'm all
right. You don't have to be scared." Harry releases a sniffle as his tears begin to flow again, Sirius'
heart breaking as he watches him. Sirius slips gentle fingers under the boy's chin and urges him to
look up. "I'm not angry with you, Prongslett. You didn't do anything wrong. We were only playing,
and I fell. It was an accident, but you didn't do anything wrong."

Harry sniffles again, damp tracks running down his sullen cheeks. Sirius wipes them away with his
thumb and smiles down at his godson. He pats his chest and opens his arms wide, inviting the boy
in. Harry hesitates for a few seconds before he crawls forward, settling into Sirius' lap as Sirius
wraps him up in a snug embrace, one hand soothing over his back while the fingers of his other
scratch softly at the back of Harry's head.

"Everything's going to be fine, okay?" he tells Harry. "We'll play more this weekend. Maybe pull
out some of the really ferocious dinosaurs that you mum doesn't like and keeps locked in your
wardrobe." Sirius prods Harry in the side, causing the boy to giggle faintly as Lily rolls her eyes,
watching them in amusement and relief. Sirius keeps digging his fingers into known ticklish places
until Harry is vibrating with laughter against him, only looking up when James and Remus step
into the room.

"I think it's bedtime, ghoul tamer," says James to Harry, coming over and scooping him up from
Sirius' arms. "Tell Padfoot goodnight."

James tilts a little, letting Harry lean down. The boy wraps his arms around Sirius' neck, Sirius
immediately hugging him back as best he can from the position.

"G'night, Pads," repeats Harry, a large yawn pushing his breath through Sirius' hair.

Sirius chuckles as James pulls him back up. "Sleep well, sprog," murmurs Sirius, watching as
James carries the boy across the room, stopping in front of Remus briefly so that Harry can speak
to him as well. James motions to Lily with his head, asking her to follow, his eyes darting between
Sirius and Remus.

Remus waits until they're gone before he moves over to Sirius' bed, sitting on its edge, one leg
drawing up, bending at the knee so he can face the dark-haired man. "All right?" he asks after
studying Sirius for a silent time. He glances down at Sirius' leg beneath the blankets. "Pillows still
good?"

Sirius can only shrug, his throat suddenly feeling too dry and tight to form words, though he thinks
it's less about his injury and more about Remus on his bed and far too close for Sirius' breathing to
remain normal. Remus sighs heavily.

"I'm going to come get you tomorrow morning, take you back to the office. Try to get those scans,"
informs Remus. "The sooner I see what's happened, the better I can – " Remus breaks off. His eyes
have trailed down to Sirius' hidden knee but now he's looking back at Sirius, face pinched a little,
like he's trying to control his expression, keep it from morphing into something he doesn't want.
"Are you all right with that?"

"S'pose I have to be, don't I?" mutters Sirius. Remus frowns at him and Sirius shakes his head,
rolling his eyes at himself. "It's fine, Remus. Whatever you have to do. I trust you."

Remus suddenly looks mildly relieved. "James said he and Lily will help you get dressed and
ready, then I'll come and assist in getting you to the lower level of the house. James can't do it on
his own. He said he already tried once before?" Remus arches a questioning eyebrow at Sirius and
Sirius snorts, nose and mouth twisting in mild chagrin.

"Yeah, that went splendidly," huffs out Sirius, blowing the fringe from his eyes. "Nearly sent us
both tumbling down the stairs to the bottom. I told him he couldn't do it, that it wouldn't work, and
we were likely to die, the both of us, but he didn't listen, and then we almost did. Didn't think Lily
was ever going to stop shrieking like a rabid hound over her laughter."

Remus chuckles deep in his throat, causing the mattress to bounce a little beneath them. Sirius
resituates himself a little.

"He ended up having to push all the furniture in his downstairs office against the wall. Dismantled
this bed and brought it down for me. Slept down there for the first couple weeks until I could
manage the stairs without nearly breaking my neck," says Sirius, smiling a little. "Then he took the
whole thing back apart and set it up here again, because I just couldn't sleep down there, not well
enough. Prongs never complained."

"I did wonder how you handled the stairs at first," admits Remus, his laughter fading away slowly.
"Also makes more sense about him telling me that he would set you up with something downstairs
tomorrow while you're gone. Guess you're back in the office for the time being."

Sirius groans and bows his head. "But it smells weird in there," he grumbles. "Like, like…books!
This room doesn't smell like books. It smells like me and whatever Lily uses to dust with."

Remus blinks at him. "You don't like the smell of books? Are you mad?"

"I never said that," retorts Sirius, eyes shifting over Remus as he recalls that the man always smells
interestingly similar to an library, but in a good way. "Just said that my room doesn't smell that
way and I've grown accustomed to it, shockingly." Sirius suddenly shrugs again, his eyes darting
up to Remus' face. "S'pose it's something I could get used to, though, if I had good enough reason."

"I should hope so," murmurs Remus, looking amused, something curious and unnamable in his
eyes that Sirius can't figure out. "Books can give us a great deal of pleasure, Sirius."

Sirius' brain stutters out on him at the comment. He's not sure what his expression is saying as he
currently has no control over it at all, but Remus is laughing, light eyebrows raising high on his
head.

"Did I say something wrong?" he questions, brown eyes glinting like he knows.

"No," says Sirius quickly. Remus smirks at him, but it fades back to a small smile as he reaches out
and takes Sirius' hand, Sirius blinking at him in surprise.

"Get some sleep, Sirius," he says, squeezing gently. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sirius nods, swallowing around the rising lump in his throat. Remus releases his hold, and it takes
everything in Sirius not to grab him and pull him down against his body, bury himself in the scent
he knows is there and the warmth that's always radiating from Remus. But then Remus is gone,
disappearing through the door. Sirius sinks further into the bed and stares up at the ceiling until
whatever Lily had given him takes effect and he drifts to a restless sleep.
 Defeat, Brokenness, & Comfort
Chapter Notes

Trigger warnings: Rape/non-con; mentions and descriptions of depression

I won't lie, it's graphic. If you wish to skip over it, I've hopefully made it easy to spot
when it's coming. However, for anyone who wishes to still read the chapter but would
prefer not to chance accidentally reading anything in detail relating to the incident
within, please let me know. I will provide you with an alternate version of this chapter
where things are more glossed over. Please don't hesitate to ask. Always remember to
take care of yourself.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"It's bad."

Sirius lets his head fall back to the sofa at the words. They'd been at Remus' building for nearly an
hour now. Remus had been thorough, getting as many angles and images of Sirius' knee as he
possibly could so he could really pinpoint the problems. When he'd finished, he'd helped Sirius
down from the table and guided him back to his office with a firm hand around Sirius' upper arm –
Sirius now back on both the infernal crutches – settling him down on the sofa with his injured leg
stretched out the length of the cushions while Remus had gone to wait for the scans to finish
loading and printing.

Sirius had spent his time alone trying not to focus on any of it and only depressing himself further
as his mind flooded with dark thoughts. It's over for him, he knows. There's no coming back from
this, no matter how good Remus is, no matter how magical Sirius thinks he is, people don't recover
from these sorts of things. Athletes are lucky to come back after one injury, but two? And in the
same exact place? It doesn't happen. He's resigned himself to it by the time Remus enters the room
again with a grave expression and the news Sirius had already known was coming.

"Not surprising, is it?" mutters Sirius darkly. "We already knew that, essentially." Sirius groans
and rubs his hands over his face roughly. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking hell. I've got to call Minnie.
She's going to erupt and there's no telling how Moody will react."

Remus frowns. "Minnie?" he asks in confusion as he sits on the arm of the sofa next to Sirius' feet.

"Team manager," grunts Sirius. "Probably the one that's been handling your pay all this time."

"Right," says Remus and the word is tight, clipped, weighted. "Why do I get the impression you're
not ringing to inform her of the accident and that you've been delayed?"

Sirius lowers his hands and jerks his head up to glare at Remus. "What the fuck do you expect me
to tell her?" he snaps, the hopelessness welling up, making it impossible to control his tone of
voice.

"Exactly what I just said," replies Remus, looking at Sirius like he's missing the most obvious
flashing neon sign directly in front of his face. "That you've had an accident and your recovery has
been delayed."
"Delayed?" demands Sirius angrily. "You can't fix this, Remus. I'm fucked. I'm done. I have to tell
her."

"When did I say that?" Remus' face is smooth, expression calm, but his brown eyes flicker with
something like warning. "I said it was bad. I never said I couldn't treat it."

"Oh, really? You can treat this? Get me back on the pitch to where I was before? That's not how it
sounded last night. I told you it was worse and you said you were worried."

"Yes, worried, because I knew it was bad," says Remus, his voice holding a hard edge now, "but I
never said it wouldn't be treatable. I never said it couldn't be healed. Almost everything can be
healed, Sirius. You just have to try. You can't give up. If you give up, there's nothing I can do for
you. I essentially told you that the first day, do you remember that? None of this works if you don't
trust me and what I know can be done. I have never lied to you about this, Sirius, and I never will. I
am always honest and straightforward. If I think it can't be done, I'll say so. I always state the odds,
but most times those odds aren't anything I can't beat, unless you're the one choosing to stack them
higher."

Sirius stares up at him, his mind still screaming against everything Remus is saying. It all still feels
so insurmountably hopeless that Sirius can barely stand it. His heart is the traitor, the thing
whispering to him to keep trusting this man, to give in and let go.

"Don't keep stacking them higher, Sirius," reiterates Remus, more gently now, almost pleading.

Sirius shakes his head a little, a barely existent movement, closing his eyes. "How did this
happen?" he whispers wretchedly. "How did any of this happen? Things were fine. I was fine. And
now everything is just in shambles. I was so close to getting back to where I'm supposed to be, and
now I can't even see the end through all the fucking dust from the explosion."

Remus is quiet for a time, whether allowing Sirius space to sit in his misery or trying to find his
next words, Sirius isn't sure, and he doesn't look up to find out. When Remus finally does speak,
Sirius finds himself wishing he wasn't there at all.

"Is that true? Were you fine? Because I think you're lying, Sirius. You're lying to me and you're
lying to yourself."

Sirius' eyes fly open, narrowing as he glares at Remus. "What do you know of it?" he nearly snarls.
"And where the fuck do you get off with something like that? You don't know me well enough to
make that assumption about my bloody life."

"I'm good at reading people, remember?" And he's still so calm and composed that Sirius has to
stifle the urge to throw something out the wide window, just to get a reaction. "Particularly so
when it comes to you, in case you've failed to notice. Do you even want to go back, Sirius?
Because I get the feeling this is less about that and more about you simply feeling sorry for
yourself. Which is pathetic and doesn't suit you one bit."

Sirius glowers at him, rage swirling and building higher and higher until it's almost choking him
inside his throat. "Piss off, Remus," he mutters, and now there's warning in his tone, sharp and
vicious. Dangerous. Remus ignores it.

"No, answer the question. Not for myself, but for you," snaps Remus, finally losing a piece of his
composure, letting the irritation show through the cracks. "You're never excited about it when the
subject comes up. You always say you have to get back, that you need to be back there, but never
that you want to be back in it. And I think you're lying to yourself about all of it. I think you have
been for a long time."

"Of course I want to go back!" shouts Sirius, his fury flying free before he can stop it. "They're my
team! It's my career! But why would I ever sound excited about it when for months all I've done is
sit around watching like some useless lump because of this?" He motions furiously to his
outstretched leg. "There was an end in sight but now that's gone, so fuck me and fuck them and
fuck you! Do you want me to quit? Is that what this is? Do you want me to be a disappointment
again, because believe me, I'm perfectly capable of doing that all on my own, without your help?"

Remus frowns, all his annoyance and impatience fading away. "No, that's not what I want," he says
quietly. "I just want you to be happy, Sirius."

"Well, I'm not happy, am I?" rages Sirius, throwing himself forward on the sofa as much as he can.
He'd be pacing if he could, storming the room, stomping through the floor with each thundering
step. "Is that why everyone keeps saying that? Could you all see it and I never could? That I'm
miserable in this life I've been trapped in since I was born. That there's no getting out of it, no
chance of ever escaping being this fucking crushing disappointment to everyone that ever tries to
enter my orbit. Everything I touch is fucked, Remus! There's not a single thing left unmarked. My
family, Lily and James and Harry, you, my fucking teammates. I can't even go to a bloody practice
without getting threats and warnings, spending the time feeling as though I'm being pummeled
under something so toxic and violent, just waiting for him to sweep in and end it all, somehow."

"What are you talking about?" demands Remus sharply, his eyes narrowing in, expression turning
hard and alarmed. "Who are you waiting for?"

But Sirius doesn't hear him, the blood pounding through his ears too loud and distracting to notice
anything around him except his own overflowing misery and shame. "I'm not happy. I've never
been happy, and I've always been the failure in my own story, along with everyone else's. I turn
everything to rot, and now I'm doing it again." The anger fades from his voice, fades from his body
and heart and mind, leaving behind only the crippling feeling of disgrace. "If I don't go back, it's all
for nothing. All the horrible things I've caused, that I've created, it means absolutely nothing. And
it makes me a failure again."

Sirius wilts then, collapses in on himself, like a structure imploding and crumbling to the ground in
a depressing heap. "Should just change my nickname. Sirius 'Failure' Black. Watch as he returns
home, folks, all his glory dropped to the floor behind him."

Remus exhales a large huff of breath, sounding frustrated and a little defeated as he looks away
from Sirius and across the room. He stands suddenly, and walks away, but Sirius doesn't watch him
go, can't bear to see it. It's silent for a while, but then there's music filtering through the air around
them. Sirius closes his eyes against it, doesn't want to hear any of it. A handful of seconds later, he
senses something in front of him, catches the vaguest scent of citrus in his nose. When he finally
opens his eyes, Remus is standing before him, hand outstretched in offering.

"Come on."

Sirius can only blink at him in surprise. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere," replies Remus, his hand not moving, still waiting for Sirius to take it. "We're going to
lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling, because it seems to be one of your favorite things to do.
And for some reason that I can't seem to fathom, it gives you some odd sense of perspective."

"I don't need perspective," mumbles Sirius, frowning.

"Yes, you do," says Remus adamantly. "Now come on, or I'll haul you up myself. You know I
will."

Sirius scowls up at him, but Remus only smiles a little and curls his fingers in and out, beckoning.
Sirius hesitates for another brief moment before finally giving in and slotting his hand into Remus'.
The man tugs at him, pulls him up and off the sofa gently, wary of his leg movements. Then
they're standing almost level, nearly chest to chest again. Remus stares down at him without
moving and Sirius is suddenly reminded of a situation not so different from this one, except filled
with laughter until it wasn't any longer, lips on lips and fingers around wrists, holding. Sirius looks
away, doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to be reminded. Another failure, another mess
he'd caused in an endless, vast sea of messes and problems, always circling around his head like
vultures waiting for death.

He hears Remus swallow audibly, but he still doesn't look back up, even as Remus begins to help
him shift down. Sirius keeps his leg outstretched as Remus holds firmly to both his hands, lowering
him to the floor. Once Sirius is settled, Remus grabs a couple pillows and places them under the
bottom part of Sirius' leg, keeping it elevated and comfortable before he drops to the floor as well.

He rests beside Sirius, long legs stretched out and crossed at their ankles, fingers joined and hands
draped over his ribs. They stare up at the ceiling, watching the light flicker from the windows as
cars pass by on the street beyond the building or birds sweep through the air around the trees.
Sirius feels disconnected from everything and also so far into it that he can no longer see anything
around him, just blackness created from the overbearing pressure of dejection. He barely hears the
music flooding the room, though he thinks it's maybe louder than usual, echoing through his head
without registering. He ignores Remus next to him, doesn't register the heat radiating off him in
waves just as it always does.

I can't remember being nothing but fearless and young. We've become echoes, but echoes, they
fade away. We fall into the dark as we die under the waves.

Everything he can think of, every bright, golden moment in his life sends his thoughts spiraling
like a whiplash to how it had never lasted, how everything he'd ever accomplished and done
always had something negative lingering at the edges. Sirius had never done anything completely
right in his entire life, always being the cause of pain raining down on the heads of those around
him that he cared the most about. Everything about him and surrounding him is chaos of the worst
kind and he's so very tired of it all that he can hardly breathe through it anymore.

Devil's on your shoulder, strangers in your head, as if you don't remember, as if you can't forget.

"You're not a failure, Sirius," says Remus softly after a long time, startling Sirius from his
depressing thoughts, but Sirius retreats from it, tries to block it out again, tries to slip back into the
horrible comfort of the darkness that's always there, only waiting to take hold of him another time.
"And you're not a disappointment, not to your friends, not to your true family, not to me. This is
only a setback. It's not the end for you, not if you don't want it to be. It's bad, I told you I wouldn't
lie to you. It's bad, but it can be mended. Everything can be mended. You only have to trust me and
let me do it."

Sirius closes his eyes against it, Remus' words clanging through his head and his heart, battling for
purchase that he can't accept.

Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are. 'Cause these city walls never knew that we'd
make it this far. We've become echoes, but echoes are fading away. So let's dance like two shadows
burning out a glory day.
Remus rolls to his side when he doesn't receive a response. Sirius can feel his gaze burning into
him, but he ignores it until a soft touch of warmth presses to the skin of his wrist. His eyes open
and he finally looks at Remus, rich, honey-brown gaze meeting his, face closer than it has any right
to be, fingers still resting on Sirius' wrist, heat spreading, thawing him out, pulling him back. Sirius'
breath hitches in his chest, sticks somewhere between his ribs, cements itself around his heart.

"Everything you touch is not fucked. You still have people who love every part of you. You have
friends and family that would do absolutely anything, endure anything, just to see you happy. I
didn't hear a single complaint last night, did you?" Remus stares down at him, searching his eyes.
Sirius can't even force himself to blink, terrified now of looking away and losing all of it, the
touch, the eyes, the words; the comfort he doesn't want to admit Remus is giving him. "And if you
truly are miserable, we can fix that, too. Everything can be healed, Sirius. All you have to do is
accept it and say you need it to be different, then trust yourself and others to help you make it so."

Just hold me. Just hold me. Just hold me. Just hold me.

Sirius inhales a shuddering breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. "You make it sound so
easy," he whispers.

"It's not," says Remus, shaking his head slightly, though his eyes never move from Sirius'. "It's not
easy, and I'll never tell you it is. But letting go a little, allowing the people that care about you
more than anything to help pull you through the worst times, those are things that will always
make it easier."

He knows Remus can still see the resistance in his eyes, Sirius feeling it throughout his entire body,
his entire soul, not ready to admit to anything yet. Remus smiles, just a small twitch of lips at the
corners, and he leans forward slightly, nothing more than a subtle shift that seems like an
unconscious action.

"If I were to ask you now what I could do to make it easier, to start you on that path from miserable
to happy," says Remus quietly above him, "what would you want?"

You.

The answer comes to him from nowhere and everywhere at once. It clatters through Sirius' head
like a siren, rounding the edges and dropping down like a pinball machine, all clanging, jingling
noise. It falls in a shifting pattern, something that shouldn't be soothing and comforting but is,
somehow. It floats and flitters through him, down and down and down until it settles in the parts of
him that need the glowing warmth it produces, spreading from his heart, his stomach, his very soul
as it latches on and refuses to let go, though Sirius fights against it with everything inside him that
isn't touched. He walls it off, blocks its creeping expansion, keeps it held in, away from the light.

"I – I don't know," he replies, voice small and hollow, echoing the emptiness that doesn't contain
that glowing piece that's now very much a part of him. Remus' smile drops into a small frown as he
pulls away at the response, Sirius thinking he almost looks disappointed.

It's only been a moment; it's only been a lifetime. Tonight, you're a stranger, some silhouette.

They fall into silence, Remus remaining on his side, propped on his elbow but looking away now,
staring out the window, eyes distant. It's a long time before he turns back, looking down at Sirius
again, frowning more deeply, gaze focused and filling with concern again.

"What did you mean earlier?" he asks slowly. "About the team and the practices. What threats and
warnings? What did you mean, Sirius?"
Sirius' eyes shift away from him. "Nothing," he mumbles, his insides squirming uncomfortably.
"Just team stuff."

"Sirius."

"It's fine, Remus," says Sirius, a bite entering his tone. "It's nothing. It's handled. Don't worry about
it."

Remus opens his mouth to protest but Sirius hisses out a burst of breath through his teeth and sits
up suddenly. "All right, I'm fine now. I've got my perspective or whatever," he grumbles. "Can you
just tell me your plan for all this so we can go?"

Sirius chances a glance over his shoulder to see Remus looking a little taken aback by the
surprising shift of topic and attitude. He thinks he sees a small amount of hurt and disappointment
flicker through the man's eyes before his face slowly becomes a sculpted mask again, hiding any
true emotion as he nods and pushes himself up from the floor. Remus helps Sirius up next and
settles him back on the sofa before crossing the room and cutting the music off abruptly, throwing
them into a drowning silence that nearly sucks the breath from Sirius' lungs and leaves him feeling
as though he's drifting through space completely alone.

--------------------

Remus does work out a new plan for Sirius. They return to the routine they had in the beginning,
spending most of their time in the Playroom, working through exercises that had once been so
simple and now are more of a struggle and painful than ever before. They still go to the pool two
days a week, but Sirius can no longer swim, returning to floating on his back as Remus gently
works his knee in the water, watching Sirius' face periodically, like he's gauging his mood and
mental stability.

Sirius can't really blame him. He's still not his normal self, something Sirius realizes is easier to
notice than usual, something he usually does a better job of hiding away from watchful eyes but
doesn't much care to now. They still joke, still sit at the edge of the pool or in Remus' office or car
and have their regular chats, but Sirius remains more dour than before, the teasing and jests more
forced, his usual flirts of everyone falling by the wayside. Not even Marlene had been successful at
pulling Sirius into a session of long-running banter like they normally engaged in, Sirius seeing her
eyes dart to Remus in worry when she thought Sirius wasn't looking.

Moody and McGonagall hadn't been pleased when Sirius had finally informed them of the new
situation, Moody furious and cursing in the background over the phone as McGonagall had tried to
continue the conversation. Sirius had felt immensely guilty and even more useless than ever before,
though he'd finally understood that while Moody was rightfully angry, it wasn't directed at Sirius so
much as it was the entirety of the situation and how unfair the whole thing seemed to everyone.

McGonagall had been quieter, more reserved. She was obviously upset by the news, already three
steps ahead in plotting and preparing for the backlash it would bring from the Association and the
disappointment of the fans who had thought Sirius would return soon. Yet, as disappointed by the
turn of events as Sirius knew she was, he thought she seemed more concerned about him and how
he was adapting than anything else. It softened him a bit, dulled the ache and the stabbing guilt in
his chest a little, just enough to promise her he'd do whatever necessary to make it back. Sirius
ignored the fact that the words twisted his stomach into tight knots that made him feel ill and
mildly dizzy.

The one brighter side Sirius had found within the horror of what had happened is that Remus had
delayed their pedal boat excursions until Sirius' knee could once again safely perform the task. It
isn't much, and it does little to lessen the overwhelming feeling of misery within him, but he
accepts it for what it is.

The days and weeks pass, eventually turning to months. Remus works with Sirius as adamantly as
he has from the beginning, never letting up and never giving way to Sirius' depressing views. Time
slips away until the holidays come and go, Sirius putting one foot in front of the other as he
struggles to move forward through the haze of teetering hopefulness and hopelessness, the feelings
rising and fading throughout the weeks, hope always settling in near the beginning, once he's back
with Remus, while the hopelessness claims him over again once the weekend comes around,
beating him down into his hole of misery once more.

He's forced to continue attending the practices, and each one becomes more torturous than the last
to the point that Sirius begins to dread them not as he had before, with annoyance and irritation, but
with steadily mounting anxiety. Everyone seems on edge around him, even Frank and Benjy to an
extent, monitoring their words before speaking, controlling their taunts, making things feel stifled
and tense.

Gideon is the worst of any of them. While before he'd always fix Sirius with harsh, pointed glares
and offer a few biting words, since Sirius' most recent injury, the man has developed a near vicious
hunger in his eyes whenever he catches sight of Sirius around the pitch, like he's waiting to strike
and take Sirius down and out for good. Though Sirius hadn't interacted with him much before his
fall in the Potters' house, now he avoids and ignores the other man as best he can manage, never
engaging with any barbed words or steely eye contact Gideon tries to entice from him, no matter
how raw Sirius' tongue is from biting down on it.

By the time the end of January comes, bringing with it a biting cold and even a small amount of
snow, much to Harry's delight, Sirius is once more able to walk on his leg without the aid of
crutches. Sirius would be ecstatic, because that's obvious progress, to the point that were the lake
not closed, they'd be back in the pedal boats by now. He wouldn't necessarily be excited about that
prospect, but Sirius feels none of the hope he'd had before at this stage, simply for the one fact
Remus keeps saying there's no physical cause for Sirius to be experiencing. Pain.

There's constant pain in his knee now. It flares at odd times, whether he's standing and walking or
lounging in his bed at night. It can be fine the entire day and then suddenly send screaming jolts of
agony racing from hip to toe, or sometimes it'll persists with a dull ache near constantly. Remus has
done numerous additional scans searching for a reason behind it, but he's found nothing to explain
it to Sirius. The knowledge that he's probably stuck with it for the remainder of his life dips him
down further and further, his leg aching more and more with every passing day.

The team has a practice scheduled on the last Friday of the month, and Sirius sits on the bench
rubbing mindlessly at his knee as he watches Benjy, Fabian, and Cresswell run back and forth
along the pitch in front of him. Eventually, Moody calls for drills, excusing Frank for a while, who
jogs over and seats himself beside Sirius on the bench, taking a large gulp from the water he'd
grabbed on the way.

"All right, mate?" he says as he plops down. He glances over at Sirius, taking in his fingers
working up and down his leg in steady circles. "Knee acting up again, is it?"

Sirius grunts. "Can't seem to get it to stop," he answers.

Gideon runs up to the edge of the pitch in front of them, his eyes raking over Sirius sinisterly
before he turns to wait for Moody to call his name. Sirius huffs and swings around on the bench,
throwing his right leg over the opposite side so he's straddling it and facing Frank.
"Figured that physio god of yours would have found a solution for you by now," muses Frank, his
gaze shifting between Sirius and Gideon before settling solely on Sirius.

"He says there's nothing physically wrong," mutters Sirius. "Remus has looked. He can't find
anything to explain it."

"Does he have any theories on what might be to blame, then?"

"Probably," scoffs Sirius, "but none that he's sharing with me."

Franks hums. "Maybe for good reason," he comments vaguely. When Sirius raises his eyebrows in
question, Frank looks a little leery before he explains. "You hear it a lot, don't you? That mental
stuff affects these sorts of things. You've been off since it happened, not your normal self. You're
wallowing, Sirius. There's every reason to think that might have something to do with it. Bet your
Remus thinks the same thing, but he's probably wary of mentioning it because you have a tendency
to explode on people."

Sirius blinks at the bluntness of the words. "Blimey, Longbottom," he utters, "tell me what you
really think, eh?"

Frank merely shrugs. "Had to be said. James and Lily are clearly treading water with you, but too
wary to say much just yet. Alice said as much after the last time she was there. Someone has to tell
you you're being a prat, don't they? Least once a day. You lose perspective otherwise. Can't have
that."

Sirius snorts but says nothing in response, looking back out over the pitch, avoiding Gideon's
sharp, piercing gaze. He glances back down at his leg after a while, pondering Frank's words,
wondering if he's right, if that's the difference this time, his mood and attitude.

"So," ventures Frank eventually after they've sat in silence for a while, "inquiring minds want to
know – and when I say minds, I mean Benjy and me – when are you jumping Remus?"

Sirius chokes, his fingers tightening painfully around his knee before he manages to let go. "Is
everyone on about that now?" he demands, breathing still struggling to come back.

"Are they?" replies Frank, chuckling as his eyes shift over Sirius. "Dunno about all that, but it's
fairly obvious to us. You talk about him nearly as much as you do Harry, and you don't talk about
anyone or thing more than Harry. We all managed to put two and two together easily enough.
Besides, you're the one that calls him a god."

Sirius arches his eyebrows and rolls his eyes a bit in concession. "You should see him," he says.
"Looks like the closest thing I can imagine a god being. Not to mention I'm almost certain he has
magical powers. He'd have to with the things he does."

"Mhm, and you're hoping his mystical prowess extends to his prick," guesses Frank in obvious
amusement.

"I mean, wouldn't be the worst thing, no," concedes Sirius, smirking faintly, but it slips away.
"We're just friends, Frank. He's a good bloke. Keeps me entertained. Lately, he's kept me going. I
would have quit back in November if it wasn't for him. I'm trying to not fuck up a good thing here."

Frank nods thoughtfully, and then his hand is reaching out, gripping Sirius' chin between two
fingers as he says mockingly, "Aww, our little Sirius, all grown up and responsible with his choice
of cock."
Sirius laughs and bats his hand away, rolling his eyes. Soon enough Frank is called back by
Moody, leaving Sirius alone again, though he doesn't fail to miss the predatory gaze Gideon casts
his way.

It's nearing the end of practice when Sirius' mobile rings. He fishes it from his pocket to see Lily's
face and name lighting up the screen.

"Lils?" he questions. "Everything all right?"

"Yes, yes, it's fine," comes her reply, sounding tired and exasperated. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I'm still at
Mungo's. We had an emergency come in and I couldn't leave them. We just finished, but I've been
delayed. I just have to finish up some paperwork. I might be another hour before I can be there. I
could give James a ring if you don't want to wait. Or maybe Frank or Benjy would be willing to
give you a lift?"

"It's fine, Lily," says Sirius, brushing it away. "I can wait around here. Not a big deal."

"If you're sure," murmurs Lily, sounding hesitant. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"No rush, babes. Take you time. I'm good here."

"All right, then. We can stop for some lunch if you want and then I can take you to Remus. How
does that sound?"

Sirius smiles. "Stellar, Lily," he replies, then disconnects the call and stashes the phone back in his
pocket.

He lingers outside for a while longer after the team packs it in for showers and to change. When
the cold starts to bite in harder and the loo begins to call his name, Sirius finally stands and limps
his way inside to the changing rooms. They're empty by now, the team having finished and
probably scattered off to find Moody for a meeting of some sort. The toilets are situated back with
the showers, so Sirius hobbles his way over to them.

He's just finishing up and making his way back into the main room when someone steps in front of
him, blocking his path and exit. Sirius has enough time to look up and catch a flash of Gideon's
leering face before his hands are wrapping around Sirius' arms and pushing him back around the
corner into the shower room. Sirius' foot skitters across the floor with the sudden movement,
jarring his knee, and he hisses in pain as Gideon presses him up against the wall out of sight from
the changing room.

"Ow, shit. What the fuck, Gid? What are you on about?" demands Sirius furiously. He tries to
force Gideon away, but the man only presses him back harder into the wall.

Gideon grips his jaw in rough fingers, keeping Sirius' head still. Sirius glowers up at him. "If you
wanted to fuck a god, all you had to do was ask," he growls, hot breath spreading over Sirius' face
and turning his stomach.

Sirius feels a wave of panic hit him and he tries again to force the man away, but Gideon holds on
firmly, not letting Sirius gain any ground. "Piss off with that, Prewett," drawls Sirius, trying to keep
his voice level, trying not to give away how frantically his heart is suddenly beating inside his
chest. "I've told you, we're finished with that. It was good while it lasted, but I made it clear in the
beginning it would never be an ongoing thing. I'd think you would have got over me by now, or is
my dick just that addictive?"

Gideon acts as though he's about to release Sirius, relieving some of the pressure against his chest
where his arm rests, the fingers on his jaw slackening, but then he thumps Sirius back into the wall
roughly. Sirius grunts from the impact, the man's grip on his face digging in deeper, almost
painfully.

"I find it entertaining that you ever thought this was about something as simple as your cock," says
Gideon with a low, menacing chuckle.

Sirius smirks, though he feels none of the cheekiness behind the action, his heart still pounding
blood through his ears at a frantic thrumming volume. "That's not what your brother told me. He
said you thought it was magic, but maybe he paraphrased."

Something ominous flashes through Gideon's eyes then, turning Sirius' veins to ice beneath his
skin. He knows instantly that he's gone too far, pushed back too much, taunted himself to the end.
His heart stutters in his chest as Gideon's smile stretches out, morphing his face into a wolfish,
rapacious sight.

His arm shifts over Sirius, elbow pressing sharply into Sirius' chest, still holding him in place. His
grip releases its hold on Sirius' face, fingers pushing a little as they go, and then Gideon is trailing
the outside of one along the line of Sirius' jaw toward his ear, his other hand finally relenting
around his upper arm and drifting down, pushing up under the bottom line of Sirius' shirt, grazing
over his flesh beneath. Sirius shivers at the threatening touch, his stomach feeling as though it's
settling at his feet.

"Don't get me wrong," murmurs Gideon almost sweetly, save for the sinister tone at the edges of
his voice, "you were always extraordinarily good. Much better than the majority of the fuckwits I
stumble upon most occasions. I'd gladly take you any day over most of them. But that isn't what
any of this – " Gideon drives his leg between Sirius' thighs forcefully at the word, extracting
another grunt from the dark-haired man. " – was about."

The hand stroking slowly over his jaw suddenly darts around, latching onto the back of Sirius' neck
and jerking his head forward aggressively until their noses are almost touching. Gideon grins
ruthlessly at him.

"No," the man hisses in Sirius' face, "this was about getting close to you, finding a way to fuck you
off the pitch and out of my way, whether through finding the things that would break you or
actually fucking you until you broke." Gideon cocks his head to the side as he stares down at
Sirius, his other hand still creeping over skin, slipping around his waist to his back and then
dropping down, fingers sinking below the line of Sirius' jeans. "But you had to go and ruin that,
didn't you? You, with your constant drivel about meaningless shags and moving from one bloke to
the next like they're nothing. Not that I care much. Except now you've found one you'd like to keep
around, haven't you? You're little physio god."

Gideon's hand pushes down and clutches around one side of Sirius' arse, forcing a protesting sound
from Sirius' throat, his teeth gritted down hard inside his mouth. Sirius glares back at him, lips and
nose twisting into a sneer.

"So now, I suppose I'm reduced to the second option by force, aren't I?" coos Gideon, lips slipping
down to Sirius' neck and sucking skin between his harsh, biting teeth. Sirius' body goes rigid, a
sharp, stuttering, strangled breath escaping him. When Gideon's head lifts back up to look at him,
he's staring at Sirius with malicious eyes. "I wonder how willing Lupin will be to ever carry on
with you once he knows how very damaged you are?"

The hand suddenly leaves Sirius' jeans, shifting around quickly, fingers working at the button and
zip on the trousers. That's when Sirius starts fighting back again, shoving hard at Gideon's arms
and chest, trying to force him back enough for Sirius to get in a good punch or kick; anything to
free himself from the man's fierce grasp. Gideon pushes back harder, rougher, grappling for Sirius'
wrists as he struggles against it, panic rising higher and higher with every failed attempt.

In the end it's no use. Gideon is larger than Sirius, taller, broader in the shoulders and chest, legs
more defined and thicker, supporting his weight better, giving him more bearing to work with to
fight back against Sirius. He shoves him into the wall again, head and large shoulders reeling back
from Sirius' flailing arms and hands, still trying to grab onto something to help him fight. As
Gideon pins him in place, he reaches down with his free hand, gripping Sirius' injured knee in
rough fingers and squeezing violently. Sirius cries out at the sudden pain, his body falling almost
lax, his struggles ceasing as black forms around the edges of his vision, everything trying to fade
away from him.

Gideon uses it, releasing his hold on a nearly limp Sirius to finally grab his arms, hand locking
around his wrists and pressing them into Sirius' chest, the man's arm coming up over them,
effectively pinning Sirius in place between the press to his chest and Gideon's leg still slotted
controllingly between his thighs. Sirius can do nothing more than pant through the pain still
flooding him, battling against the crazed fear now encasing him in a haze of disbelief, both keening
for purchase.

The hand is back at the front of his waist, working the button loose and the zip down. Then jeans
and pants are being forced over his hips and down his thighs, fingers grazing over his flaccid shaft
and then gripping firmly, working up and over, coaxing.

"What's the matter, Sirius?" hisses Gideon, leaning in close to his ear. "Can't get it up for me
anymore? You never had a problem before, always rising to the occasion. Something wrong? Still
thinking about that Lupin bloke and wondering what he'll think of you now?"

Sirius closes his eyes, not wanting to think about Remus now, not wanting to think about anything
at all as the hand works over him before stopping and giving up. If Sirius was a less intelligent
man, he'd think this is it, Gideon is stopping, realizing he's not getting anywhere, but Sirius knows
better, is powerless to do anything about it, his mind still screaming at him with a deafening
volume, but his body forced into immobility, unable to defend against the onslaught of the attack.
Fabian's words of warning echo through his head again, Sirius finally understanding the meaning
behind them, seeing how very weighted they had been, the caution the man had tried to instill that
Sirius had ignored, always finding the missing puzzle piece and slotting it into place too late.

The hand disappears completely, Sirius hearing a sickening slurping sound a moment later. He
opens his eyes in enough time to see Gideon removing two spit-wet fingers from his mouth, his
breathing faltering and then halting completely as the hand slips under him and the digits are
forced inside with fierce brutality. Sirius gasps out a sharp, sudden breath at the intrusion, body
clenching down against it, trying to expel the delving fingers as Sirius attempts to flinch away
futilely.

"Shh, shh, shh," hushes Gideon softly, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. "Relax, will
you? You don't want me to hurt you, do you, Black?"

Sirius releases a whimper he can't control as more pressure is added, a third finger slipping in,
trying to work him loose. He sees Gideon smile fiendishly in front of him. Then they disappear as
quickly as they'd come, leaving Sirius feeling empty in a way he's never experienced before, like
his very soul is leeching away from him, creating a void where everything he once was resided and
now nothing remains at all, just a gaping hollow space that nothing can ever permeated again.

He barely sees any of it now, barely hears, barely feels, but he's aware when hands grip him again,
turning him roughly, his leg twisting painfully at the unexpected movement, a pitiful moan of
agony escaping this throat as it throbs beneath his weight. Sirius' face and chest is pushed again the
wall now, a heavy hand pressing firmly between his shoulders, still pinning him in place, allowing
for no movement, but it doesn't matter. Sirius fades away, closes his eyes, what little fight still
remaining within him dying away like a small flickering, struggling flame trying to survive in a
harsh wind finally blowing out of existence, dead and gone.

Sirius drifts away, only vaguely aware of the faint pressure against his entrance, the weight bearing
down over his back, the panting breaths fluttering his hair and ghosting over the back of his neck.
There might be voices nearby, entering the quiet space just before the pressure increases, but Sirius
is certain he's imagining them, hearing what he wants, his mind slipped too far away from what's
happening, trying to fill in the recesses left behind with those that care about him. Sirius welcomes
them and dives in deeper.

"What the fuck?"

"Sirius!"

"Prewett! Get the hell off him, you piece of shit!"

There's a commotion fluttering around his head that Sirius can't focus on, can't direct his mind in
the direction of enough to understand where it's coming from or why. Voices are growling,
shouting, raging behind him, beside him, then the weight falls away from him, a heavy thump
sounding, echoing off the tiles of the room. Sirius slumps down to the floor, legs giving out
beneath him now that nothing is holding him in place, holding him upright. Hands are tugging at
his arms and at his jeans again, sending Sirius further away from it, but then they're on his face,
touch gentle, caring, fluttering and panicked feeling.

"Sirius. Sirius, look at me. Fuck, Sirius! Please look at me!"

Sirius blinks. Blinks again and again. His eyes focus in again, Frank's pinched face swirling in his
shaky vision before settling, his eyebrows pulling in tight over his eyes, deep creases and lines
forming everywhere over his skin as he stares at Sirius, gaze wide and fearful. Sirius glances
around, just a little, only enough to see Benjy standing just to the side of Frank's crouching figure,
looking down at Sirius, face a melding mixture of rage and horror, such a terrible thing that Sirius
will never unsee for the remainder of his life.

There are other voices around him, but he can't pick them out, doesn't want to try, has no interest in
hearing what they're saying or seeing what they're doing. It's getting hard to breathe, Sirius' chest
feeling far too tight suddenly, throat closing up, air rushing out in sharp bursts but nothing coming
in. Sirius realizes his hand is clutching at Frank's arm, fingers locked in a near death grip over his
skin.

"Whoa, okay. Okay, Sirius," says Frank, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in close.
"Okay, I've got you. I've got you, mate. Just breathe for me, please. Deep, in and out. Just like that.
In. Out. In. Out. That's it, yeah, you've got it. You've got it and I've got you."

Sirius clings to his friend too tightly, can't make himself stop. He closes his eyes as his body
shakes and his chest heaves desperately, the emptiness remaining, settling in, promising to never
leave; promising to never be filled again.

--------------------

"Hello?"
"Er, Remus?"

"Yes. Who's this?" comes Remus' voice over the speakers and James' hand clutches down around
the edges of the phone held to his ear.

"It's, um…James. James Potter. Sirius' friend. Sorry, mate, didn't really want to ring your personal
mobile, but I didn't want to do this over your office phone, and I got your number from Sirius'
mobile last night and then debated with myself for hours today before I finally pressed the call
button." James is babbling, he's fully aware, but he can't seem to make himself stop, the stress
around him mounting too high to really form any true sense of control over his more moronic
tendencies.

There's a pause on the other side of the connection before Remus says, "Is Sirius still ill after the
weekend?" His voice is tight, tense, like he can sense that isn't the reason James is calling. James
winces.

"No, he's…Look, I don't know how else to say this, but you need to know, Sirius isn't ill. He wasn't
on Friday, but we didn't know what else to say," rambles James, trying desperately to sort his
thoughts and failing spectacularly.

"James," says Remus slowly, cautiously, tone filling with dread, "is he all right?"

"I – " James stops, grip tightening further around the phone. "Something…something happened. I
just wanted to let you know he might not be back for a while."

"James!" Voice forceful now, insistent, demanding. Scared. "Is Sirius all right?"

James squeezes his eyes closed. "I don't know," he admits eventually. "No. I don't know. He won't
talk to us about it."

Another pause, longer this time, silence stretching on forever, or so it seems to James. "This
happened Friday morning? During his practice?" comes the question finally.

"Yea – yeah, it did," stutters out James in confusion. "How did you know that?"

Remus doesn't answer, saying instead, "I'm coming."

James blinks again, startled. "Whoa, calm down, mate," he says in surprise. "While I appreciate the
enthusiasm – and of course you're welcome to come if that's what you want – but I feel I need to
warn you that I'm not sure how much good it'll do. He's not…really speaking to anyone right now,
about anything, not even Harry. I don't know what more you'll be able to do."

There's another heavy pause and James waits.

"I'm still coming," insists Remus and James feels the surprise settle in deeper, frowning slightly in
puzzlement. "I'll cancel the rest of my day and I'll be there soon."

The line disconnects, James' phone screen fading to black in his still clutching fingers. He pulls it
away from his ear and stares at it for a long time with a mild sense of awe. James realizes that
maybe Lily hadn't been far off the mark with her prodding and prying the night they'd all shared
dinner together months before.

--------------------

Sirius sits in one of the sunloungers in the garden, injured leg stretched out in front of him while
the other is curled up beneath. His head reclines as he stares up at the overcast sky. His phone lays
abandoned in his lap, sad, depressing songs filtering out of the speakers and flooding the air around
him. He almost snorts derisively at himself. It's all so melodramatic it would make him feel ill if he
were capable of feeling anything in that moment.

It's cold, he's aware, the wind biting in, but he doesn't feel it either. James had eventually brought
his jacket out, almost forcing Sirius into it to cover his arms and protect his neck, popping the
collar dutifully once the leather was settled. Lily had brought a blanket not long after, along with a
steaming cup of tea. She'd spread the blanket over him, gently tucking it in as her eyes swept over
him, filled with distress. The tea set abandoned on the table next to him, cold as ice now,
untouched.

Sirius has no idea how long he's been here, doesn't even recall when he'd first ventured outside the
house, his face now numb from the cold air around him. Everything is numb, nothing hitting right,
touching him correctly. Even his mind is numb to nearly everything, thoughts flickering in and
then skittering away just as quickly, as though terrified to take root and try to flourish and grow.

He knows his friends are worried, knows they're hovering in the background behind him, staring
through frosted windowpanes, waiting for something, anything. Sirius can't give it to them, can't
even give it to himself. He feels trapped, stuck like a prisoner, locked inside his own head with no
escape, the world too harsh a place for him to face anymore without cracking and breaking apart
into irreparable pieces.

Feel the weight of the world over me tonight. If I break, if I break down this time, hope you know I
tried. My mind's such a mess, I can't handle it. I'm at the end of my rope.

Sirius hears muffled voices behind him, like the door has opened a crack, letting them slip through.
He blocks them out, the sounds reminding him of the voices surrounding him in the showers,
Frank's hands and arms holding him tightly, holding him together, Benjy's horrified face staring
down at him, lost and helpless and stunned.

Some of the team had been suspicious when Gideon hadn't shown up for Moody's meeting,
venturing out in search of him, and then Sirius when they hadn't located him either. They'd been
furious, astounded, nearly disbelieving when they'd stumbled upon the pair. Fabian and Benjy had
pulled Gideon away, Frank immediately seeing to Sirius' condition as the other two had wrestled
with the snarling red head until Benjy had punched in squarely in the jaw, knocking him to the
floor in a daze. Moody and McGonagall had been called, pulled in and involved, the two outraged
and clearly distraught and lost as to what to do.

When Lily had arrived, someone must have told her, because Sirius has a vague memory of her
crying into Benjy's shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Faintly remembers her gentle arms
wrapping around him, holding him comfortingly as she'd continued to sniffle, feeling her rage
tremble through her small body against his. James had arrived at some point, sitting down beside
Sirius, face impassive but his hazel eyes glinting with nearly unrestrained fury, waiting silently
until Sirius had fallen against him, taking his brother's steady, calming embrace and folding himself
into it.

Sirius squeezes his eyes closed, trying to push it all away again, trying not to think about it or let it
linger for too long. It's a few minutes before he senses a presence settling down in the lounger
beside him, but Sirius doesn't look up, keeping his eyes closed. He's not sure how much time
passes before he opens them and looks around, expecting James or Lily, a dulled sense of surprise
striking him when he sees Remus instead.

These thoughts won't rest, I can't forgive. I overthink until I'm sick. I'm too damned tired, too worn
to fight. I don't feel strong enough to leave on the light.

The man's soft gaze rests on Sirius, not prying, not pushing, just there, simply filling in some of the
empty space around him, making the bitterly cold air feel suddenly warmer. Sirius stares back at
him, not understanding why Remus is there at all, why he's at Sirius' home, swelling into the
crevices and cracks he's left open and exposed to the light.

"What are you doing here?" asks Sirius plaintively when a long time has passed and Remus still
hasn't said anything, like he's been waiting until Sirius is ready for words to pass between them.

"James rang me earlier," he replies, shrugging one shoulder slightly, a small movement, barely
existent, his brown eyes glancing down at Sirius' phone still streaming music from its speakers.
"He said you weren't feeling yourself. Thought I'd come check on you, see how you were."

Sirius' eyes narrow at him. "Did he?" he mutters, voice nearly emotionless. "And how much did
dear James tell you, Remus?"

"Enough," answers Remus truthfully, his gaze still locked on Sirius, taking in his drawn face and
hollow eyes. "But I surmised pieces of it before he filled in the rest."

My neck is breaking, body shaking. Sometimes it's so hard to breathe, but no one sees it follows
me. I always end up underneath the weight of the world.

Sirius scowls, turning his head away, fixing his eyes elsewhere, blocking Remus' presence out. He
stares at the cat lounging on the high garden wall, tail flicking occasionally from where it dangles
over the edge, curling and uncurling in uneven, nonsensical patterns. The song shifts on his phone,
dulcet tones flowing over him. Sirius lets himself sink into it instead of focusing on the eyes he can
still feel fixed on him in concern.

Stop telling me that it's okay like it's gonna get better. I've heard every damn cliché, been stuck
here forever. In my own head I'm a prisoner and you're not much of a listener. I have always been
this way. Can't outrun the pouring rain.

"Sirius," says Remus eventually, the name on his tongue slow, careful, testing. "You have to talk to
someone about this. I'm not saying it has to be me, or even James or Lily, but…someone."

Stop telling me that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Every time I believe those words it's
nothing but trouble. I hate to sound so cynical, but I'm done chasing miracles. This fall, it ain't
worth the climb, glass half empty all the time.

Sirius closes his eyes again, pushing the words away. He doesn't want to talk about it, none of it, so
tired of remembering every terrible thing in his life like it's playing on a near constant loop in his
head, like a record spinning round and round on a turntable, music fading out, needle scratching
and leaving static behind.

"Don't let it fester, Sirius," murmurs Remus.

Give me a reason I should even be alive. Help me believe that tomorrow's even worth the fight. I
must confess, I'm terrified that I won't make it through the night. Wish I could change my mind.

"Don't let it turn you into someone you're not, because the person you are is rather brilliant. Don't
lose yourself in it, Sirius."

Sirius' face scrunches up, teeth gritting down hard inside his mouth. He doesn't want to think about
it, Remus bringing it all to the surface again, though if Sirius is being honest, it hasn't left him for a
second since Friday, always swirling around the edges of his consciousness like a dark cloud full of
lightning, ready to strike at the worst moment and set everything to flame. The thoughts bring the
feelings with them, but Sirius doesn't want to feel anything either, though he's not sure how to
process through it and begin to move past it, how to redirect his life without doing so.

I'm so sick of waiting on the sun, my silver lining that never comes. So sick of feeling not enough.
Does hope hurt more than giving up? I know that I can't be the only one sick of waiting on –

Sirius' eyes snap open when the music suddenly cuts off, jerking his head around to see Remus
with Sirius' phone in his hand, having reached over and taken it so gingerly and with such careful
fingers that he'd never even touched him. His gaze meets Sirius' again as he sets it back down
beside him on the lounger before retracting his hand. If Sirius currently had the voice to protest, he
would, but instead he sits, glaring, silently seething, watching Remus with furious, incredulous
eyes.

Remus fiddles with his own phone in his hand for a while, expression contemplative. He finally
stills it and unlocks the screen, tapping around for a few moments before his finger hovers
hesitantly for a second or two. Eventually, with a subtle clearing of his throat, he presses his thumb
down, and music begins to stream around them again from the small speakers at the phone's base.

When you're a lost cause. When you are so far gone. When you are aching, tired and waiting. When
you are sinking, going down like a stone, nothing comes easy. Nothing comes easy.

Sirius closes his eyes as the lyrics wash over him. Maybe it's an almost silent message from
Remus; maybe it isn't. Either way, it eases Sirius' mind a little, loosens his tongue enough to
eventually speak.

I'll be the lamplight. I'll be the first in line. Kick out the waste of losers and fakers. I'll be the one to
see through the blackest hours. Nights in the darkness. All the nights in the darkness.

"Sometimes, I wonder when the universe will decide I've had enough," he says quietly, his voice a
weak thing that Sirius hates. "When it will finally determine that Sirius Black has suffered his fair
share, because just…fuck." He stops, looking over at the garden wall again and staring at the cat
lazing upon its surface, eyes sightless and unfocused. "As if all the media stories about my life and
the shite I dealt with from my family wasn't enough already…"

Remus remains silent for a while, following Sirius' gaze to the cat. Finally, he says softly, "They
hurt you?" He phrases it like a question, but Sirius knows it's not. Not really. Even if Sirius has
never actually said the words, he knows Remus already understands the hidden nuance to
everything Sirius has ever said about his family and childhood.

When you are shaded. When you are fading out. I'll be the lamplight. Nights in the darkness.

Sirius releases a bark of laughter, bursting from his throat, the sound harsh and rattling around
them, not the usual easy, sudden lilt but sharp and grating, nearly belligerent. Remus winces at the
almost antagonism in the noise.

"If you were to ask them," mutters Sirius darkly, "they'd say no, call it discipline. But I've never
heard of child discipline equating to locking someone in a windowless, lightless cellar for days at a
time, have you?"

Remus' eyes widen but Sirius ignores him, continuing, his mouth not stopping now that it's going,
everything trying to spill out, escape the darkness, expel it into the light of day, hoping it never
returns. "Once, they left me there for so long, no food, nothing to drink, that I thought they'd finally
decided they'd had enough, or just…forgotten I was there at all. Figured they'd settled on letting
me waste away until I was gone, letting the rats get desperate enough to take care of what
remained. Obviously, they didn't. Finally let me out. Suppose the cellar was always better than the
alternative. At least being trapped in darkness didn't leave any marks visible to the eye once I came
back out. But there were more than enough of those, too."

Sirius leans back, shoving his jacket to the side and hoisting up the hem of his shirt before yanking
down the waist of his joggers to reveal his hip so quickly and suddenly that Remus rears back in
startlement. Sirius ignores his reaction, gazing down at the long, jagged scar stretching over his
pale skin, still not faded into near nothingness even after more than a decade.

"They always made sure they could be covered, of course," says Sirius, mock pleasantness and a
forced chipper tone entering his voice, his face twisting in disgust. "Couldn't risk their friends and
business associates seeing, could they? That would be difficult to explain, even as discipline. You'd
think that would have been a small clue for them, wouldn't you?"

Remus is staring at him in mild horror, though Sirius can tell he's trying to mask the expression. He
smiles at the man nastily. "But that's not really what you want me to talk about, is it, Remus?" he
bites out, venom on his tongue. "You want me to tell you what he did, spell it all out for you, so
you can look at me with the same pity and sadness as everyone else? Well, fuck you. I won't do it. I
won't tell you about his hands on me, about the fear that ate away at my throat and the panic that
twisted my stomach into such a tight knot I don't think it'll ever release. I won't tell you about how
he'd planned it out from the beginning, all so he could break me and get me out of his way because
he's an egomaniacal, jealous, scheming waste of fucking life."

Sirius is panting, his voice having risen higher and higher as he'd spoken. He stares back at Remus
with hard, cold grey eyes, challenging him to continue, to try to make Sirius work through it,
accept it, move past it. But Remus only gazes at him, understanding in his expression, a little
heartbreak, care, and even a flash of wrath filling his eyes. Nothing more.

"I don't pity you, Sirius." Remus' voice is soft, gentle but also firm. "I will never pity you for
anything, not for one single second. There's nothing about you that needs or deserves pity, because
you're stronger than that. Everything that you've ever had to endure proves that, even if you can't
always see it. Even if you can never see it. And that's okay, because I see it enough for both of us."

Sirius scowls and looks away, Remus sighing at the reaction. Sirius doesn't care. Maybe Remus is
telling the truth now, but Sirius knows it will come, the pity. It always does eventually. One day,
most likely sooner rather than later, Remus will look up and decide that Sirius and all his constant
drama and spiraling self-doubt aren't worth dealing with him anymore.

The song playing from Remus' phone shifts, something edgier sounding from the speakers, the
beginning notes vaguely familiar. He sees Remus quickly tap on his phone screen from the corner
of his eye, the man changing the song to the next. It's a curious thing, something Remus doesn't
normally do, and Sirius wonders what the song was and if Remus is trying to keep from pulling
Sirius down further. He listens to the lyrics of the new one, something he's never heard before, not
wishing to think of much else, choosing to tune everything out with music instead. He ignores
Remus as he clearly grapples for something else to say.

I know you hate yourself but that doesn't change what is written in your DNA, 'cause you're one of
a kind and you're here by design. Someday you'll see it if you stay.

"I'm not trying to force you into talking about it right now, Sirius," says Remus finally. "I just want
you to know that you have friends who will listen when you're ready. James and Lily love you,
that's very clear. They'll do whatever they can to help you however you need. And so will I. It's
what friends do when they care."

Sirius snorts derisively before he can stop himself. "Are we friends?" he bites out accusingly and
Remus frowns at him, his mouth opening to speak, but Sirius continues, not giving him the chance.
"Friends talk to one another outside of obligation. We don't. We talk when it revolves around
physio, around your job. Before that, after it, during the weekends, it's like you cease to exist.
Except you don't. You never stop existing for me, Remus, but apparently I do for you."

"That's not true, Sirius," denies Remus, shaking his head. "I thought that's how you wanted things,
so I've left it alone. But I'm here now, aren't I? And it has nothing to do with physio and everything
to do with you."

"Why would I ever want it like that?" demands Sirius angrily. "You're the one that started this
friends thing, said you liked me, got me to say it back. And then you're also the one that went and
said no muddling the lines between things, so where was that supposed to leave me?"

Remus gawks at him. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"Maybe," concedes Sirius, enragement fading away, hurt taking its place that Sirius tries
desperately to hide. "Maybe not. But you never made an effort to change it, so how was I supposed
to take it?"

You may not believe it now. It's so hard to see just how you matter at all. You just wanna
disappear. Take all you've been building here and just let it fall.

Remus shakes his head forcefully, the denial exuding from his entire body. "It doesn't have to be
that way. I've never wanted it that way," says Remus adamantly, sounding suddenly despondent.
"But Sirius, your life…it's already so full of things. Your career and your team – " Sirius winces
involuntarily at the mention of the team and Remus looks stricken and apologetic as he continues.
" – your friends, the wonderful family you've found yourself included in. I never wanted to intrude
on any of that."

"When have I ever made it seem as though you've been intruding on any of it?" asks Sirius, hating
the almost pleading sound he hears in his voice. He clears his throat, trying to banish it, trying to
make himself sound anything resembling the person he no longer feels like he is. "I have never
shied away from anything involving you."

I know you hate your life but that doesn't change the words that you might write, the lives that you
might save. You choose how misery's defined, so take this song as a sign and make your pain your
saving grace.

Remus looks down and picks up his phone after a contemplative moment. He taps around on it for
a long time, so long that Sirius feels his anger and disappointment rising, thinking he's not going to
get an answer, that Remus has closed himself off again. But then Sirius' phone dings beside him.
He picks it up, sees the banner spread out over the screen displaying a new message.

(11:26)

Remus: Friends text one another, you whinging sod.

Sirius looks back up in surprise, seeing Remus smiling at him.

"Happy?" questions the other man with a slight tilt of his head.

Sirius' own smile flickers across his face, trying to match the one Remus is providing him, but it
falters out and dies from his expression like a candle being extinguished. "No," he whispers.

Remus nods slowly, his own smile slipping and turning sad and understanding. "I know," he
murmurs. He gnaws on the edge of his lower lip as he continues to gaze at Sirius. "But you will be,
one day. James and Lily will make certain of that, I'm sure. And so will I. I know it all feels
hopeless right now, Sirius, but you're stronger than this. You're so much stronger and so much
better than this one thing or this one person who chose to manipulate the world around him to force
it into something he liked better. You're better than all of it, and you always have been."

"You can't know that," says Sirius dejectedly. "You still don't know enough about me to ever say
that with any sort of truth."

Remus frowns deeply. "I know you, Sirius," he says firmly, voice hardening to steel, so resolved
and certain in the words that they cause Sirius' breath to stutter and fight in his chest. "You are
better than it. You're better than him. I'm not going to let you forget that."

When no one knows the hell you've been through, that doesn't change that there's only one you;
that every scar, every mark, every bruise gives you a heart that understands someone's abuse.

His hand is suddenly there then, hovering in the air between them, a silent offering. Remus isn't
pushing for anything, just making his support known, holding it out, like a solid fixture that Sirius
can choose to accept or ignore. Sirius stares at his long, pale fingers splayed out over the concrete
under their individual loungers, his gaze finally shifting up to meet Remus', searching for
something, anything that stands out in the wrong way, anything that might set him off so very
easily. Sirius finds nothing but the same soft brown eyes set into the freckled face of a man he's
realizing he's growing far too dependent on to be properly healthy. But Sirius also finds he doesn't
really care about that right now because he thinks Remus might be exactly what he needs to help
pull him out of the bleak, suffocating darkness he's fallen into again.

So Sirius slowly stretches his own hand out, resting it inside the other man's. It's warm, nearly hot
to the touch, but Sirius hadn't expected anything else, not even with the biting cold they've been
sitting in for so long now. Remus is careful at first, wrapping Sirius' hand up in gently squeezing
fingers, but then his grip firms, locking on like an unwavering force, a silent, strong show of
unending kindness and support that causes Sirius to release a heavy, shaking breath of air through
his nose.

Sometimes life will leave you black and blue, so you can learn to stand in someone else's shoes

"I'm not going to let you fall, Sirius," says Remus, repeating an earlier promise with different
meaning now. But as the words wash over Sirius, he thinks back to when Remus had first said
them, musing that maybe they hadn't carried such a different sentiment all those months ago either.

Remus' hand squeezes again, a quick burst before the extra pressure fades and then they sit there in
silence, Remus allowing Sirius the time and space to do whatever he needs to do to work his way to
the other side. Sirius allows his slowly calming mind to focus back in on the song that's been
playing around them, finally cluing into the voice dancing through his ears.

You're a diamond in the darkness. Find purpose in your pain. Walk the wire, face your fire.
Someone will need your strength. You're irreplaceable. Your days in hell are gonna be your glory.
You're irreplaceable. There's no one else that can write your story.

"Is this my band?" he asks in surprise, looking at Remus again. "The one I told you about months
ago?"
 Remus blinks in surprise at the sudden shift in topic, but he looks down at his phone still in his free
hand. "Oh, er…yeah, suppose it is," he replies, tapping around on his screen again, banishing his
message and pulling up his music again. "They really are good. I've found several that I like." His
thumb taps and opens something else before he's skipping the tail end of the song that's playing and
moving it on to something else. Sirius catches a glimpse at the top as Remus angles his phone,
trying to reach what he needs with one hand, and Sirius spies a playlist open on the screen, brow
furrowing in curiosity when he sees the name stretching along the top: Sirius.

"Did you make me a playlist?" he questions in shock, that odd fluttering returning to his stomach at
the knowledge written so plainly in front of his eyes.

Remus fumbles with his phone, flipping it over quickly and depositing it face down, recalling his
hand to him as though it had been burned. He looks at Sirius, opens his mouth like he's going to
protest or explain, but he only huffs out an exasperated breath of air.

"Yes, all right, fine. I did," he mutters finally.

Sirius feels a slow smirk forming. "Can I see what's on it?"

"No," denies Remus. Faint color spreads up his neck and over his face, staining his cheeks in a
curious way. "They're just songs, ones you've already heard by now, I'm sure. It's just…
specifically curated for you, for when you're around."

Remus' eyes flicker away and something in the action tells Sirius the man isn't being completely
truthful. But Sirius lets it go as he says slyly, "Do you have a playlist for every person that seeks
your help with a traumatic injury?"

The other man's shoulders slump at the obviously teasing question, his eyes rolling dramatically in
his head as Remus shifts his gaze back to Sirius. "No," is all he says, and then Sirius is smiling, the
first true smile he's carried since Friday. Remus' eyebrows twitch on his forehead when he notices,
but before he can do much else, the smile is morphing over Sirius, spreading, there's suddenly
laughter fighting its way from his throat.

The mildly amused irritation fades from Remus' face as he watches Sirius laugh, his own smile
stretching broad and relieved over his face. Remus' hand squeezes around Sirius' again, holding
longer this time. Sirius' laughter begins to drop away but it doesn't disappear, still lining the edges
of his chest and throat and escaping in small bursts and waves. And in that moment, within the
enclosure of the garden with his hand clasped in Remus', with Remus there beside him, such a
constant, comforting force, Sirius knows that at least for right now, he's okay, safe and protected
and unjudged. And Sirius thinks that with his friends there surrounding him, with Remus there, one
day he might find that he's mostly okay during the other passing moments of every day and his life.

Chapter End Notes

I'm sorry. I truly am.

I've never hidden away from uncomfortable topics while writing because things like
this need to be addressed. They need to be acknowledged so that more and more
people understand that it happens every day, to everyone, not just one specific gender
of person or type of person. It happens to everyone and that's a problem. But it is
painful, and I do apologize for that.

Huge thanks to monkeychan1112 for talking me down from the ledge several times
while writing and editing this. She's amazing, and as she said, difficult things like this
make the people who actually experience it feel seen, and I think that's the most
perfect way to phrase exactly what this is. She's got some fics as well, so please go
give her some love. She deserves every last drop of it.

On a better note, look! Remus made a playlist specifically for Sirius. Curious what's
on it? You'll get to find out, because yes, I did make one. I'll release it at the end of the
story with the other playlist. Can't do it yet because secrets.

Please stay safe. Please stay healthy. And if you're angry with me over this, I'm sorry.
Scream at me if you must, either here or on Tumblr. I can take it.
 Passing Days, Acceptance, & a Moment
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sirius takes a break from physiotherapy for a while. Lily protests the plan a bit, worrying and
cautioning for him to not allow himself to drift too far away from it, but she quiets herself when
she learns the suggestion had been Remus'. Without asking, Remus had known that Sirius needed a
reprieve from the constant prodding and manipulation he'd been subjected to for months on end in
an effort to heal him as quickly as possible. And Sirius had taken the respite, no longer feeling the
fevered rush to return to his former life, instead remaining with his own people, the ones that truly
loved him, and allowing himself to try to heal in a different way altogether.

He'd worried in the beginning after accepting Remus' offering of a break. Sirius had feared it would
hinder his knee's rehabilitation to the point that it wouldn't actually heal once he did return to the
now nearly common daily practice of working it closer in that direction, but Remus had assured
him that so long as he continued the exercises he was able to do on his own at home, his injury
would stay on the proper path and the pause in their activities wouldn't limit him in the future. It
had assuaged some of the nagging worry in the back of Sirius' mind, but not enough, most of it
coming from the concern that without their five-day-a-week sessions together, Remus would drift
away from him, that Sirius would no longer see the man if there wasn't an excuse.

Which is why Sirius had found himself surprised when Remus had seemed to become an even
greater fixture in his life with the separation from him and his office. The texting had started
slowly, almost cautiously, Remus instigating it with a short message that same night checking in a
roundabout way on Sirius' headspace, Sirius staring at his phone screen for far too long with a
twisting mind and racing heart before replying with the simplest one-worded answer he could
manage at the time, only sending back surviving.

Remus hadn't responded, and Sirius had thought that was the end to their brief true friendship
experiment. He'd lain awake that night for multiple reasons, staring at the dark ceiling, pushing
memories away, both good and bad. James had taken some time off work to remain at the house
with Sirius, but as Lily had made to step out the next morning on her way to St Mungo's, Harry in
tow for the Weasleys' to give Sirius peace and time to simply be, she'd released a faint noise of
surprise. She'd emerged into the sitting room, Harry's hand latched in hers, a white paper bag
bearing Sirius' name down the side in near illegible writing grasped in her other.

Lily had offered the bag to Sirius curiously, James peering at it with the same baffled expression,
Harry squirming in Lily's hold, trying to get a peek. Sirius had taken the bag cautiously, unfolding
the stop slowly and opening it. He'd found paper napkins inside, which he'd withdrawn, pushing
back the crinkled folds to reveal stacks of chocolate biscuits. And Sirius had smiled, warmth
spreading through him again from the center and outwards.

Sirius had offered two to Harry, much to the boy's delight and Lily's chagrin. Then he'd pulled his
phone from his pocket and texted Remus a small thank you. The man had replied almost instantly,
saying nothing more than you're welcome.

And so had started their true foray into the realms of what Sirius considered real friendship. The
messages had been infrequent at first, but soon became more and more frequent, hesitant and with
a firm reason behind each one until they were appearing at random points all throughout the day,
sometimes filling large chunks of time where Sirius did nothing else but stare at his phone screen
with a too bright smile that James would sometimes gently mock.
Remus would complain about the traffic in the city as he sat stuck in his car, unmoving, Sirius
offering back some quip or insane line from whatever program he happened to be watching on the
telly at the time. They'd share songs and bands, both new discoveries and old between them. Sirius
would toss out small tidbits of information from his increasingly boring days, Remus trading it off
with anecdotes about his patients or the antics of Peter, Marlene, and Rosmerta, all the things Sirius
was missing more and more as the days passed by.

But Sirius didn't see Remus after his impromptu visit that Monday morning, an absence he felt
greatly that no text could ever seem to fill. Not until the Sunday night following when Lily caught
Sirius sitting at the kitchen table with his phone in hand, staring at a picture of Remus' meager and
sad meal of day-old Thai takeaway. Lily had immediately snatched the phone from Sirius' hands
under his protests and rang Remus directly.

"Yes, hello, Remus," she'd greeted as soon as Sirius had heard the faint sounds of the chirping
stopping when the line had connected. "What's this about stale takeaway for your dinner?"

Lily had listened adamantly, nodding along to whatever Remus had been saying to her, frown
pulling at her mouth the entire time. Sirius had watched her warily.

"Right, that sounds lovely, but my idea is far better," Lily had finally said, a stubborn, authoritative
edge entering her tone that Sirius knew far too well and typically cowered against. "You're to come
here for dinner. I'll have no arguments. I'm making Cornish pasties. You'll love them. See you in a
bit, yes. Here's Sirius."

Sirius had blinked in bafflement as Lily had offered his phone back to him, smug smile on her lips.
She'd wiggled it when he hadn't immediately taken it, motioning with her other hand to the name
on the screen, indicating Remus was still there and waiting. Sirius had huffed and finally accepted
the phone, pushing it up to his ear.

"Er…'lo. Sorry about that. She just grabbed it and rang you. Couldn't have stopped her if I'd tried."

Remus had chuckled into his ear. "Looks like I'm coming to dinner," he'd said in amusement.

"S'pose so, yeah," Sirius had replied, watching Lily walk away from him. "Think you might want
to get used to it."

"Mhm," Lily had hummed as she'd made her way to the counter to continue their meal prep.

Remus had released another breathy laugh. "I'll see you soon, Sirius," he'd murmured before the
phone beeped in Sirius' ear and he was gone.

After that, Remus came to theirs for dinner at least three nights a week under Lily's insistence. She
eventually conned his number from him once she became tired of wrestling with Sirius to invite the
man over. She'd even talked him into breakfast a couple mornings on the weekends, Sirius blinking
at the man blearily when he'd emerged from upstairs and stepped into the kitchen to find Remus
seated at the table, cup of tea in hand and smiling brightly but a little sheepishly. Sirius had looked
over at a beaming Lily and a defeated James before down at himself, dressed in too large bottoms
that dragged the floor and a loose fitting, faded shirt he'd bought to piss off his mum that said two-
seater with arrows pointing to his mouth and groin, his hair sleep-mussed and one side sticking up
chaotically. Remus had snorted into his cup but hadn't commented.

Sirius had glared at Lily when Remus had turned away to speak to an enthusiastic Harry, the
woman only smirking back at him. James had provided Sirius with a sympathetic glance. To his
friend's benefit, he hadn't been riding Sirius about his relationship with Remus any longer. Sirius
wasn't sure what had changed, if it was the upheaval of what had happened and James felt he had
greater worries now, or if it was simply because Remus was such a constant presence in their lives.
Sirius wanted to ask but wasn't sure how, almost terrified of the answer he'd receive.

Even more surprising to Sirius was that his and Remus' interactions didn't stop with texts
conversations and meals at his home. One Saturday morning when the man was over for breakfast,
Sirius was in the process of walking him out, but he lingered in front of the doorway, like he was
hesitating, Sirius eyeing him curiously.

"Would you…want to come with me?" he'd finally asked Sirius uncertainly, an expression Sirius
rarely saw from the other man. "I'm going to the office to disinfect, but then we could do
something. Get lunch or…take a walk about. Something. Get you out of the house for a while.
You've been cooped up for a decent bit of time now. Fresh air, different sights, might be nice."

Under normal circumstances, and with anyone else, Sirius would have bristled at the suggestion
that he needed to step back out into the world as though he'd become a shut-in (which he had, but
that wasn't something he was admitting to easily), but he didn't. His eyes studied Remus' shifting
face, half faltering mask of pleasantness, half something else Sirius couldn't readily identify, and
he realized Remus' true intentions. He genuinely wanted Sirius to come with him, for the company
of it, for the companionship, trying to show Sirius that he was sincere in his claims of their
friendship. Maybe a small piece of it was about branching Sirius back out into the light of the
world, uncovering the blankets he'd buried himself under for the past two weeks, but it was more
about giving him a proper way to do so, to continue healing, with the steady comfort of a willing
friend by his side.

So, Sirius had accepted, going upstairs to change while Remus had waited with the Potters in the
sitting room for him to return. When he'd emerged back downstairs, he'd seen a semblance of relief
if Lily's eyes that he could tell she was trying to hide away. James had nodded in thanks to Remus
when he thought Sirius wasn't looking.

Sirius had fidgeted almost relentlessly once inside the car. He'd been out of the house, but no
further than the back garden or a small walk down the street with one or multiple of the Potters. As
the city center closed in around them, Sirius had felt as though something was beginning to crush
him slowly, stifling his breath and stilling his heart. There were too many people, the buildings too
looming and overbearing. Sirius had stopped fidgeting and gripped into the material of his jeans,
fabric straining against his thighs tightly, nearly cutting off circulation as he'd stared down at his
feet and tried not to look out the windows.

While stopped at a traffic light, Remus had begun shuffling through his phone, eventually shifting
the music playing through the speakers. Queen's Don't Stop Me Now had started playing instead,
and Sirius had looked up finally, glancing over at Remus. The man had continued staring out the
front windshield at the traffic around them, not meeting Sirius' eyes, not drawing attention to it, but
Sirius had seen the soft upturn of his lips from the side. Sirius had slowly relaxed back into the
seat, his grip releasing from his jeans, fingers no longer curled into claws and digging, and he'd
begun to breathe a little easier.

Sirius had eased even more once inside Remus' building, confronted by the familiar smells and the
warmth of his office when they'd stepped inside. He'd helped the other man sanitize the equipment
as they'd chatted before Remus had asked Sirius if he'd like to walk around the corner to a street
stand for lunch, offering to also simply order something in so they could stay there. Whatever
Sirius had been comfortable with.

Sirius had hesitated, considered taking the second option before he'd finally relented and agreed to
the small walk. Remus had smiled at him, grabbed their jackets, and they'd left after the man had
locked up the building for the remainder of the weekend. The area surrounding Remus' office
wasn't an overcrowded place, less foot traffic on the pavements around them. Between that and
Remus beside him, not close enough to touch but enough for Sirius to feel the warmth radiating
from him, Sirius managed to breathe through their travels until they arrived at the stand, Remus
ordering them both pork pies and chips.

Remus had then pointed them across the street to a small, iron gated space between two buildings.
Upon closer inspection, Sirius had found that the space had been made into a small garden, a
couple benches within and no other people milling about to cause Sirius' heart to pound a frantic
rhythm. They'd sat on one of the benches, Remus leaving just enough space between them so that
their elbows or knees wouldn't accidentally knock together, and told Sirius how, on nicer days, him
and the others within the office sometimes came here for their lunches, or oftentimes Remus came
on his own.

Sirius had listened to Remus talk for a long time that afternoon, leaning back on the bench and
watching the other man's face from the side. He hadn't said much himself, simply studying how
Remus' mouth moved with every word spoken, how his brown eyes would light up or dull at
certain things, the faint glowing flush in his cheeks from the cold. Sirius' mind had tried to pull
itself back to Gideon's threats on how Remus would view him, how what Gideon had done would
change the way Remus would always look at Sirius, but he pushed it back as best he could, trying
to focus his attentions on the sights around him and the voice filling his ears, his foot tapping
quickly on the grass beneath them. If Remus noticed, he never commented.

After that, outings between the pair became a more common occurrence. Remus hadn't filled
Sirius' appointment slots, leaving them open for whenever Sirius decided he was ready to return.
The man seemed to try to reinsert Sirius into his life on those nights where Sirius would have been
his last appointment, either making those some of his dinner times with the Potters and Sirius, or
simply picking Sirius up at the end of the day, urging him out of the house and into the world with
steady grace.

They trailed through parks, searched the city for buskers, browsed through shops. They had meals
together, both inside restaurants and outside them. Once they went to the cinema, but Sirius had
panicked in the darkness when he could no longer see what was surrounding him, so they'd left,
Remus making no remarks about it. Instead, he'd led Sirius a few streets away and into a cramped
little shop filled with the oddest collection of artwork, knick-knacks, and baubles Sirius had ever
laid his eyes upon. The entire space had smelled of strong cinnamon and the heavy scent of leather,
somehow, but something about it had instantly soothed Sirius from his still mildly panicking
tremors.

"I still haven't redecorated the machine room," Remus had said with a shrug as Sirius had
cautiously stepped around the shop with wide eyes. "And I haven't been here in a while. They're
bound to have some good things in."

"This is where you find your artwork?" Sirius had questioned, bafflement lacing the edges of his
tone.

"Some of it." Remus had glanced over at him from where he'd been idly flicking through a
haphazard stack of prints. "This is where I found that dog piece in my office. They're always good
for the nontraditional here."

"Unconventional," Sirius had murmured, mostly to himself. Remus had laughed and hummed his
agreement as he'd continued filtering through the shop's offerings.
Remus had only found one thing, but he hadn't seemed disappointed. Sirius had gazed at it while
Remus made his purchase, head tilted slightly as he'd studied it.

"You're putting this in the machine room?" Sirius had asked curiously.

"Maybe," Remus had commented as he'd turned away from the counter and the middle-aged man
behind it. He'd stared at the artwork over Sirius' shoulder, taking in the splashes of greys and
whites and blacks creating small structures, two faceless people sitting in the middle of it all,
bathed in streaks of vivid color. "Might keep it in my office instead. Or maybe even my flat. I like
it."

Sirius had continued to stare down at the piece, unable to take his eyes away from it. Something
about it made him think of Moony, of their quiet hours sitting in the small village, people strolling
by them lazily, not paying them any attention as they'd talked quietly or loudly, as they'd told
stories of their lives with all the bad bits edited out, at least in Sirius' case. It had caused his heart to
ache in a longing way, wondering what had happened to the boy that had changed so much for him
and would never know.

He'd finally looked back at Remus, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "So do I," he'd admitted.
Remus had returned his smile, brighter than Sirius' own, brown eyes glittering in the soft light of
the shop.

Remus never touched him without asking first, something the man had never struggled with
before, but Sirius still found himself appreciating the care. He also never saw the pity he was still
waiting for appear in the man's eyes. Remus didn't look at him any differently than he had before.
He still teased, still joked, still treated Sirius as though nothing had happened or changed,
something every one of Sirius' other friends seemed to battle with no matter how hard they tried.
Because for them, things were different. For Sirius it was all different and he desperately wanted it
not to be. Remus made him feel like that was true.

The month passes by in a blur and also so very slowly, the days dragging by like waiting for water
to drip from a leaky tap at an infrequent rate. By the time the end of February arrives, Sirius is
beginning to feel a little stir crazy. James had returned to work after the first week. Lily and Harry
are always gone during the day. Sirius never leaves the house to go anywhere unless it's with
Remus, no longer attending practices until the team representatives figured out what to do about
Gideon. Sirius spends his days alone, mostly, wandering the rooms of the empty house or piled up
on the sofa in front of the telly, mind-numbingly bored.

He texts people or talks to them, James and Lily always ringing him at some point, Frank and
Benjy checking on him periodically, but mostly Sirius interacts with Remus between his other
patients. On one surprising day, Sirius had received a message from an unknown number, staring
at it dubiously until a second had come through announcing that it was Peter, the man having
acquired Sirius' contact information through Remus. He'd chatted with Sirius a little, telling him
how much they all missed seeing his face in the Playroom, how much Marlene was suffering
without their easy banter. It had warmed Sirius' heart a great deal, and he'd found himself
wondering if Remus had known Sirius needed the extra contact with other people, trying to show
him how much everyone cared, or if Peter had simply wanted to speak with him.

The conversations help, nearly as much as the outings with Remus, or coloring on the floor with
Harry, becoming a nice distraction from all the rage and breakage swirling around Sirius almost
constantly. Because Sirius still isn't put right, still isn't healed in any capacity. He still wakes from
nightmares in the dark of his room more often than not, sweat drenching his bed, sheets twisted and
tangled around him. His thoughts still drift throughout the day until he's in it again, until he's
pinned in place just as he'd been pinned against a cold wall, until he feels something gripping at
him just as hands had gripped him, dug in, left bruises behind that had only just recently faded
completely. They take him over until Sirius can't breathe through it, until he's nearly
hyperventilating and all alone. And then he paces. He paces as best as his limping leg will allow
him to move, trying to outrun it, trying to force it back, knock it away, keep it all hidden. It never
works.

It's during one of these frantic moments on a Thursday afternoon that his phone rings. Sirius
instantly snatches it up, barely sparing a glance at the name on the screen before he answers it and
presses it to his ear.

"Remus," he gasps out.

"Sirius? What's wrong?" Remus' voice when it meets Sirius sounds nearly as panicked as Sirius
currently feels. He desperately tries to calm his breathing escaping him in vicious pants of air, but
it doesn't work.

"N – nothing. Nothing. I'm fine," lies Sirius, and he knows Remus doesn't believe him, can hear it
in the silence over the phone's speakers.

"Sirius…" says Remus slowly. "If you need to talk – "

"I'm fine!" bites out Sirius, his heart leaping into the base of his throat and staying there. "What
d'you need? Why did you ring me?"

There's a long, weighted pause before Sirius hears Remus release a heavy sigh. "My last
appointment cancelled today, so I'm finished earlier than expected," he finally explains, weariness
in his tone that Sirius thinks he's trying to fight back. "I've still got our regular times reserved at the
pool. I was going to see if you wanted – "

"Yes!" Sirius nearly shouts in reply, not waiting for Remus to finish speaking. "Pool sounds bloody
fantastic. Let's go."

Remus must still be able to hear the desperation and fear in Sirius' voice because his tone takes on
a worried edge as he says, "I'm leaving now. I'll be there soon, Sirius. I'll be there as soon as I can.
Do you…would you like to stay on the phone while I come to you?"

Sirius swallows roughly, trying to settle his heart back down from his throat. He shakes his head
before he remembers Remus can't see it. "No. I'm fine," he mumbles. "I'll see you in a bit." He
pulls the phone away from his ear and disconnects the call before Remus can say another word.

In hindsight, Sirius knows he probably should have kept the conversation going. Everything hits
him harder once Remus is gone and the silence descends again, pushing him down and hunching
his shoulders over from its weight. By the time Remus arrives and knocks forcefully, there's loud,
pounding music blaring from the sound system in the sitting room and Sirius is sitting on the floor
by the front door, back against the wall and knees drawn up to his face as he tries to block out
everything else.

Sirius tenses at the knocking on the door, pulling away from it until Remus shouts his name and
beats against the door again, more insistently. Sirius lurches to his feet, pulling on the lock as he
does, the door flying open in front of him. He barely catches a glimpse of Remus before Sirius is
on him, arms falling and latching around him without a second thought as to what he's doing. He
feels Remus startle under his sudden, unexpected hold, but his own arms come up almost instantly,
wrapping loosely around Sirius' back for a few seconds before tightening.
Sirius exhales a gasping, shuddering breath at the touch, his body relaxing into it. Breathing
becomes easier suddenly as the crisp air hits his face, and his heart finally drops back down to
settle into its proper place. Remus holds him, hands shifting up and down his back soothingly as
Sirius clings to the other man, eyes closed against everything around him, simply trying to feel only
what's within his grasp.

"Shh," calms Remus softly as Sirius begins to settle. "Shh, you're all right. You're safe. Everything
is all right."

Sirius presses his face into the curve of Remus' neck as the frantic stutter of his heart begins to
even back out in his chest. The scents of citrus and something sweet wafting through his nose
calms him, the hands sliding over his back a steadying thing. Sirius finally inhales a deep breath
when he's able and pulls back just a little, his grip around the other man loosening, Remus'
following suit, though he doesn't release his hold when Sirius doesn't completely move away.

Remus' concerned brown eyes shift over Sirius' face, taking him in, like he's trying to pin down
exactly where Sirius' mental state resides. Sirius swallows roughly, feeling like there's something
blocking his throat that he can't dislodge.

"Sorry," he mumbles, feeling sheepish and foolish, like he's been acting like a child terrified of the
dark and the monsters hiding under his bed.

Remus shakes his head, his arms squeezing gently. "You don't have to be," he says firmly. "There's
nothing for you to be sorry about. This isn't your fault, Sirius." He studies Sirius for another long
moment before motioning with his head behind him. "Want to sit?"

Sirius nods and reluctantly pulls away from Remus to venture back inside the house, the other
man's arms finally falling away. Sirius misses their comforting weight more than he'd thought he
would. He drops down onto the sofa once back in the sitting room, Remus settling beside him,
leaving a small amount of space between them. Sirius sees him eye his abandoned phone on the
table in front of them, and Remus reaches forward for it, Sirius tensing but relaxing when Remus
doesn't turn the music off that's blaring from the speakers around the room, only lowering it to a
more acceptable level.

Remus' fingers brush along the side of Sirius' phone before he settles back, his eyes still fixed on it.
"I wish you'd stayed on the phone," he says finally after a few minutes.

"So do I," agrees Sirius, his head falling against the back of the sofa, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Remus turns to look at him. "Does that happen often?" he asks gently.

Sirius swallows again, bile rising in his throat. "Not like that. Not that bad all the time, but…" He
shrugs one shoulder as he trails off, letting his silence speak for itself.

Remus is quiet for a few minutes as he considers Sirius contemplatively. "Maybe it's time you
come back to physio," he suggests.

Sirius winces. "I – I don't think I can yet, Remus," he admits weakly, his fingers rubbing idly over
one side of his chest where a bruise from an elbow has only recently faded from physical existence.
Remus watches him, tracking his movements, his expression mildly pained.

"I don't like you being alone as much as you are," murmurs Remus honestly. "I know Lily and
James can't help it. They have to work, they have lives. And as much as I know you love Harry, I
don't think it's good for you to be with him constantly on your own. He'd be little help in instances
like this, probably only making it worse on you and him in turn."

Sirius nods in exhausted agreement, all the fight over the situation and subject having drained out
of him throughout the passing weeks. Remus continues to study him, chewing the inside of cheek
as he builds to something.

"What if…you came with me every day?"

Sirius lifts his head, finally turning to look at the other man. His brow furrows as a frown forms.
"How is that any different from returning to physio, Remus?" he questions, not understanding
where Remus is leading with his offer.

"You wouldn't be there for the physio. We wouldn't do any of the work," explains Remus. "But
you'd be guaranteed to be around people all day, people you like and mostly trust. And if it gets to
be too much, you can slip into my office, do whatever you like in there. I'd be there if you needed
me. Peter or Marlene can slip into my place easily with any patient I'm with. You wouldn't even
have to come out of the office if you didn't want to or couldn't. Poke your head out and tell 'Merta
you need me, call me, text me. I'd be there in thirty seconds instead of thirty minutes."

Sirius stares at him until his gaze shifts away uncertainly. The others would ask questions if he was
there, he knows they would. And Sirius can't face any of it, can't say the words that are required to
explain himself away, why he is the way he is now.

But Remus must see the hesitance in Sirius' eyes, the fear welling up, because he says, "The others
don't have to know, Sirius. They know something happened, but they have no idea what, just that
there's a reason you haven't been around. They miss you, though. All of them. They'd be happy just
to see you around again. None of them would question it, not even if you disappeared from sight
during the day."

Sirius looks back up at Remus, his frown deepening. "Why would you do this?" he asks, voice
almost desperate. "Why would you want me plodding around after you all day long while you're
trying to work? Who would ever want that? It makes no sense."

Remus' face screws a little in a curious expression, but then it settles back down, a smile pulling
into place. His hand reaches out slowly, hovering over Sirius, waiting. When Sirius doesn't pull or
flinch away, Remus' fingers grip around his gently and some of Sirius' building distress falls away.

"Sirius," he murmurs pointedly, "I like you, remember? You're my friend. I want you to be happy,
taken care of, supported. And you get a great deal of it here, but it's clearly not enough right now.
So I want to give that to you, however I can. I have never once regretted being in your company,
not since the first day I met you. That hasn't changed and it's never going to." Remus' thumb shifts
back and forth over the line of Sirius' knuckles as he meets his eyes. "I just want to see you smile
again, Sirius. Truly smile, like you used to before you started to think there wasn't anything worth
smiling about anymore."

Sirius' gaze slowly shifts down to their joined hands resting on his thigh, watching as Remus'
thumb continues its gentle motions as he processes the words the other man had said, letting them
sink in, take root, ground in and settle. Sirius feels that glowing warmth again, the one he'd walled
off and blocked away. It's spreading once more, flooding past the barriers he'd thought he'd so
carefully and meticulously created. They hold no bearing now, useless against the rising emotions
surging through him as the glow spreads and spreads, filling in all the empty spaces, the ones that
had always existed and the ones that had cracked open a month ago and continued to gape, wider
and wider, becoming cavernous and dark, aching.
The warmth of it spears him, attacking his stomach and chest, gathering at the base of his throat
and nearly choking him under its onslaught. Sirius looks back up at Remus and wonders how he
could have been so blind, so very foolish to deny what James had been right about, what Lily and
all her meddling and smirks had been so very right about. Because…well, fuck. Because Sirius has
feelings for Remus.

He stares at the man beside him, not knowing what to do about it. Because Remus had said no
muddling the lines and this is exactly what he'd meant by that. And it doesn't matter much anyhow,
because Sirius is broken, far more than he ever has been before, probably irreparably so now. So
what does that leave him with except a glow that fills up every single part of him now and an
aching heart he can do nothing about? Sirius only wants to curl up and cry about the unfairness of
his life at every single turn.

But instead, he returns the small squeeze to Remus' hand, savoring the contact for what it is now,
and nods. "All right," he agrees. "I think you're right, and I'd…I'd like that, being around your lot
again. Being with you instead of on my own. I'd like that."

Remus smiles brightly, lighting up the room far more than Sirius has ever seen it, his heart
stuttering in his chest pitifully, longingly. The other man slowly releases his grip on Sirius' hand
and then raises his arm, carefully slipping it over Sirius' shoulders, hand wrapping around the top
of his arm and holding. Sirius doesn't resist the touch, doesn't think he'll ever not want it again,
will always take whatever he can get now that he's accepted what everyone else has seen from the
beginning.

Sirius leans over without even considering it first, his head resting against Remus' shoulder, eyes
falling closed. He breathes the other man in, savors the scents that are so explicitly Remus it hurts.
Remus tightens his hold around Sirius, and they stay that way until the front door opens, James
calling out to Sirius as he steps into the house.

--------------------

Remus comes early the next morning to pick Sirius up, having convinced the dark-headed man that
Friday was the perfect day to test out their new arrangement, under the impression that it would
give Sirius the weekend to decide if it's truly what he wants to do. Sirius hadn't had an argument for
that, and James and Lily, once told of the plan later that night Remus had devised, had been
agreeable with it as well, Lily gently pulling Sirius into a warm embrace, hand stroking over his
hair. And James had just looked relieved, some sort of guilt Sirius had seen building in the passing
weeks fading away just a little.

Sirius fidgets in Remus' car for the first five minutes of their trip to his office, but Remus finally
reaches over and takes Sirius' hand in his, squeezing slightly, just a small brush of pressure before
it relaxes. Sirius glances over at him, but Remus never removes his eyes from the road ahead as he
drives. He doesn't release Sirius' hand as they traverse their way into the city center, the firm
weight of it remaining as Remus navigates the streets with ease. Between that and the music
playing through the speakers around them, Sirius begins to relax.

Remus has his phone set on a playlist, Sirius can tell, and he wonders if it's his playlist, the one
Remus had created with Sirius in mind. There are a lot of songs within it that Sirius recognizes and
several more that he doesn't, but he never asks, leaving the subject alone.

When they finally arrive at Remus' building and step out of the car, Sirius feels his nervousness
return as they enter the building. Rosmerta, already there and seated behind her desk, squeals in
delight upon seeing him step inside behind Remus. She leaps from her seat and rounds the wooden
desk, racing toward him, arms spread wide. Sirius stiffens, all his muscles tensing as he prepares
for the onslaught of sudden touch, trying to tell himself not to flinch away from it, but it never
comes. Remus steps in front of her just before she reaches Sirius, slotting an arm between them and
saving Sirius from his first test back in someone else's presence that knows him.

"Mind his knee, 'Merta," says Remus smoothly. "He's still on the mend, remember?"

"Oh, pish," gushes Rosmerta giddily. "I'm just so happy to see you back. We've missed you, you
know? It's been rather drab around here without that gorgeous smile of yours lighting everything
up."

Sirius releases a small chuckle as a flush creeps up his neck that wouldn't have risen before. He
smiles at her, though it's faint and a bit strained. Rosmerta doesn't seem to notice, or if she does,
she never comments. Sirius' eyes meet Remus' as the man glances at him over his shoulder
encouragingly, and Sirius tries to relay his gratitude through the look. Remus' mouth twitches up
like he understands.

Remus finally manages to speak between Rosmerta's continued decrees of happiness at Sirius'
return, explaining to the woman that Sirius isn't here to resume physio just yet, but that he'll
probably be around most days. Rosmerta smiles at Sirius brightly as Remus tells her Sirius will be
wandering about the building, but he might find himself holing up in Remus' office and that he'd
prefer she not disturb him if she happens upon him there. Rosmerta agrees readily, not questioning
anything Remus says, something Sirius is overwhelmingly grateful for from the kind, excited
woman.

She eventually seats herself back behind her desk and beams up at him as he and Remus venture
towards the man's office around the corner. "If you get bored, you can come sit with me,"
Rosmerta tells him. "We'll have some nice chats over some good tea. Mine's better than the rest of
this lots, but you don't have to admit that to the boss."

Remus huffs out a laugh as he passes by and Sirius smiles down at her, offering the woman a wink
as he follows the other man that brings on a round of happy, amused giggles from Rosmerta. The
sound warms Sirius as he drifts around the corner, only now realizing just how much he'd missed
the zealous receptionist. When he steps into Remus' office, Sirius feels the rest of his tension leave
him as the sight and smell of the familiar room washes over him, his shoulders drooping and
relaxing, spine relieved from the rigid, tightly held line Sirius hadn't even noticed it had been
forced into.

Sirius settles himself down in his usual seat on the sofa as he waits for Remus to sort himself out,
Sirius not sure exactly what that entails as he's never been here first thing in the morning. He
watches as Remus flicks on his desk lamp as the light streaming through the wide windows is still
a little too dim to work by, seating himself behind it as he pulls his bag over his head and deposits
it on the floor at his feet. Remus pulls out a few folders from one of his desk drawers and Sirius
shifts around awkwardly as silence descends around them, his fingers clenching and unclenching in
the material of his jeans stretched over his thighs.

Remus glances up at him after a few minutes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"All right?" he asks.

Sirius shrugs halfheartedly. "Not exactly sure what to do with myself," he admits a little
sheepishly.

"You've never had a problem with that before when you've been here," supplies Remus, his smile
growing and blossoming over his face.
Sirius' face screws up in uncertainty. "I dunno," he mumbles in reply. "I've never been here in the
mornings, have I? Not like this. And I'm not really here for a purpose. Feels different."

Remus studies him for a long, silent moment before chuckling faintly. "But you are here for a
purpose, Sirius. To be with me," he says effortlessly, his smile still stretching across his face.

Sirius feels that same old flutter crest in his belly, the glow surging forth and filling him at the
warmth he sees on the other man's face and in his brown eyes. Sirius nods slowly, not trusting
himself to speak as he watches Remus spin in his chair and roll his way to the wall behind his desk.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, slotting it into the cradle between the speakers on the shelf,
music beginning to stream almost instantly, Sirius' fingers stopping their clenching at his thighs.
He turns back to Sirius and arches a light eyebrow.

"Better?" he queries. When he receives another small nod from Sirius, Remus shifts back to his
desk. "Feel free to use it whenever you're in here. This room is for your comfort as much as mine,
Sirius. Anything you want is yours. Use the speakers, my computer, partake in any of the books
you find. I don't care. Everything in here is yours to do with as you please except the patient files
in my desk, though I don't see you having much interest in those."

Sirius snorts out a laugh of disregard, Remus' eyes crinkling in the corners at the sound as he
shuffles the files on his desktop. He flips one open, studies it for a brief moment, before beginning
to write in his scrawling way.

"Rosmerta typically leaves the first hour of the day open for me for paperwork – yes, I know,
there's a lot of it in my line of work, unfortunately, not that I mind – and other things I may need to
do, like reviewing cases, both current or potentially new," explains Remus. He lifts his head and
motions it to the door. "Peter and Marlene handle things out there, setup, first patients, and such,
while I do this. You're more than welcome to join them if you're ever bored to tears sitting here
with me. They'll never mind the company, probably welcome it."

Sirius blinks and nearly balks at the insinuation that he could ever become bored or uninterested in
the other man's company, but he keeps his mouth shut and only nods in reply. Remus scribbles out
a few more things in one of the folders before glancing back up at Sirius, one side of his mouth
stretching up in a lopsided smile.

"Also, because I am a lazy human being in the mornings and lounge in bed until the last possible
second," he continues, turning to his discarded bag and pulling out two foam containers before
standing and striding across the room to settle down on the sofa next to Sirius, "it's the perfect time
for breakfast."

Remus offers out one of the containers to Sirius. He accepts it curiously, cracking it open to find an
incredibly large cinnamon sticky bun within. Remus shifts a little beside him, settling deeper into
the cushions, his long legs stretching out over the floor in front of him, crossing at the ankles.

"I figured Lily wouldn't let you leave the house without being fed, but…" the man says, looking
rather proud of himself, "sticky buns. Who can pass those up? These are phenomenal, so I highly
discourage it."

Remus beams at Sirius as he picks his own up from the container and takes a large bite, white
frosting smearing over his lips that Sirius has to look away from, his heart stuttering affectionately
and longingly in his chest. He tries his best to calm its puttering as he lifts his own bun from the
container and takes a testing bite, the sweetness bursting over his tongue instantly. Sirius moans
low in throat in pleasurable enjoyment without realizing he's done so, his head falling back against
the sofa as he chews with his eyes closed, savoring the taste and the dough that's been prepared and
baked just right.

"Christ," he utters. "That's the best bloody sticky bun I've had in my life."

Sirius opens his eyes and looks beside him at Remus, finding the man staring at him. Remus blinks
when their eyes meet, a wide, slightly sheepish grin spreading over his face. He's licked the
frosting away now, much to Sirius' warring sense of dismay and gratefulness.

"Told you," says the man almost smugly, but then his eyes widen a bit, his face falling as
something occurs to him. "Don't tell Lily. She'll have my head. I've seen what she feeds you. I've
also seen her smack your hand away from sweets just like Harry."

Sirius throws his head back and barks a sudden, unexpected laugh at the fear written over Remus'
face. He continues to watch Sirius, a soft smile forming on his mouth, his brown eyes warming as
he takes in Sirius' laughter and enjoyment.

They finish the rest of their treats before Remus collects Sirius' empty container and shifts off the
sofa, Sirius thinking the man looks reluctant to move away. Remus completes the remainder of his
paperwork and then stands, informing Sirius that his first patient should be arriving soon and he's
going to check in with Peter and Marlene. Sirius stands to follow him to Remus' obvious delight,
Sirius trying to ignore the skipping of his heart and the knots forming in his stomach as they leave
the room and head down the hall to the Playroom.

When they enter the room, Sirius spies the other two standing beside a piece of equipment, clearly
arguing over something in a mostly jesting way. They glance up as Remus enters, Sirius close on
his heels, a large, bright smile spreading over Peter's face when he spies the dark-headed man, the
disagreement falling to the wayside.

"Sirius!" he calls out, moving forward instantly. Sirius tenses again as he approaches, but Peter
stops a few steps away without Remus' intervention. Sirius wonders briefly if the other man can
sense his uneasiness or if he suspects more than he's let on during their sporadic conversations.
Neither option would surprise Sirius, knowing Peter to be an observant person at this point. "It's
good to see you, mate."

"Hiya, Pete. Yeah, you, too," responds Sirius. He attempts a sly grin that probably falls a bit short
of the mark, though he chooses to ignore it. "How's Emmeline?"

Peter flushes furiously, his round, pale face turning bright red, like he's being roasted on high heat.
Sirius chortles at the reaction, but before Peter can attempt to reply, Marlene steps up beside him,
rolling her eyes.

"Oh, please, I'm begging you, do not get him started," she grumbles, a teasing edge to her tone.
"That's all I've heard about lately, just how bloody perfect Emmeline Vance is. I can't take it
anymore."

"Says the woman who never shuts up about Dorcas," mumbles Peter, still red and rubbing the back
of his neck in mild embarrassment.

Marlene looks affronted. "That's because Dorcas is amazing," she protests. "Even you can't deny
that. I sometimes think you love her nearly as much as I do."

Peter grumbles faintly under his breath, but he smiles and shakes his head. "That's true. She is
rather brilliant," he admits effortlessly.

"Mhm," hums Marlene, her gaze flickering back to Sirius. "Well, it's about time you show your
face again, Black. Finally deciding to return to the fray and face your punishment like a man?"

Remus glances between them, small smile plastered on his face though Sirius can tell he's waiting,
gauging Marlene's teasing to see if it's gone too far. Peter, for all the man is not supposed to know
the circumstances surrounding Sirius' recent absence, looks at bit wary as well as he stares at
Marlene. But Marlene's kohl-lined eyes meet Sirius', something dancing and glittering in her irises
that sets Sirius at ease, pulling a true, broad grin from him.

"You wish, McKinnon," he retorts easily. "You'll have to wait a while longer to dole out your
pitiful attempts at punishment, sorry to say."

"Pitiful?" sputters Marlene, the others laughing around her. "Oh, I'll show you pitiful, just you wait.
I'll get my hands back on you yet, Black."

Sirius very nearly beams at her. "Looking forward to it, Marls," he counters, suddenly feeling more
like himself than he has in a month. He sees Remus watching him happily, the warmth spreading
through him again and threatening to take over, to make his tongue fly loose, to make unwanted
words spill from between his lips, but Sirius clamps down on it again.

The rest of the day passes mostly uneventfully. Sirius remains in the Playroom with the others,
observing silently unless they call him out specifically. He finds himself retreating to Remus' office
at one point when Marlene ushers in a patient with vivid orange hair on top of his head, feeling as
though he suddenly can't breathe even within the large, open room. He feels Remus' eyes watch
him go, but Sirius doesn't stop until Remus' office door is firmly closed behind him and he's resting
his head against it, drawing in heaving lungfuls of air until his heart settles back down in his chest
and his vision is no longer blurring at the edges.

Eventually, there's a soft tapping on the door and Sirius reluctantly opens it, relief flooding him
when he sees Remus standing on the other side. Sirius steps back, allowing the man space to enter
the room, his brown eyes shifting over Sirius as though trying to see everything swirling through
his head at a dizzying rate. He stands perfectly still, body relaxed, like he's waiting, ready.

Sirius releases a shuddering breath and falls into him, far too easily, or so he'll think later when he
allows himself time to process the day while he's laying in his bed that night. For now, he almost
collapses against Remus, the other man's arms winding around him without hesitation, a warm,
comforting embrace, fingers of one hand trailing up and down Sirius' spine soothingly.

"How about some lunch?" he says after a long while of simply holding Sirius close, allowing him
to press against Remus in an almost selfish way. "I can order us something in. How does that
sound?"

Sirius nods silently into his shoulder, not pulling away just yet, not ready to relinquish the contact
of the other man. He feels the muscles of Remus' face pulling against his hair as he smiles.

"Yeah? All right," murmurs Remus, hand still smoothing up and down his back. "I've got some
menus in my desk. We'll look and see what sounds good." His arms tighten more firmly around
Sirius, a silent message that he doesn't have to move away until he's ready.

Sirius sinks a little further into him, and he knows it's less about calming his chaotic mind now
than it is about the closeness of the other man, something that causes Sirius to feel wholly
wretched for so many different reasons. He's right there, so near, so warm and willing to simply
hold Sirius. All it would take is a subtle shift of his head, a press of lips to the skin of a neck, a
small lift and then it would mouth on mouth again, Sirius finally feeling it, experiencing it all for
exactly what it is. But he can't do that. Can't risk ruining one of the few good things he still feels
like he has, knowing now more than ever that driving Remus away would break him beyond any
form or hope of repair.

He finally pulls away when it all becomes a little too much to bear, Remus slowly releasing him as
Sirius moves. The man's hands linger on Sirius' arms for a brief moment, fingers grazing over the
fabric of his sleeves before they're gone and he's turning, walking to his desk and withdrawing a
small stack of menus triumphantly after a few minutes of searching.

They settle down on the sofa to sort through the options, deciding on a curry place nearby,
something Sirius picks out eagerly, James not caring much for the cuisine, leaving Sirius and Lily
to indulge in it any free chance they get. Peter pokes his head in then, his gaze shifting over Sirius
briefly before spying the menus in their hands. He offers to pick it up for them, saying he was
intending to go out for some takeaway for his lunch as well.

When he returns, Remus and Sirius have shifted down to the floor, backs resting against the front
of the sofa, having disappeared into conversation. It pauses as Peter enters, the man depositing the
bag of food in front of Remus before departing with a small smile at the thanks he receives. Remus
offers him his container and Sirius flips it open immediately, digging in hungrily, Remus laughing
in amusement as he tackles his own food at a slower pace.

"So, you were talking about James' birthday?" he prods, trying to move them back to their previous
conversation.

"Yeah, I've got to start planning," replies Sirius around a large bite.

"When is it?"

"Twenty-seventh of March."

Remus gawks at him, fork halfway to this mouth. "But that's still a month away!"

"Exactly!" exclaims Sirius. "I should have started planning a month ago. I usually do Lily's and
then start on Prongs', but I've been…distracted. Let it slip away. Lils' is the last of January. I
missed it." Sirius looks down at the container resting on his legs, swallowing around the ashy taste
suddenly filling his mouth. "I've got to make it up to her next year. Give her something twice as
good."

"I doubt she cared much about her birthday, Sirius," says Remus gently, trying to soothe Sirius'
distress away. "She's far more concerned about you."

Sirius shakes his head. "Doesn't matter," he protests faintly. "I love birthdays, always have since I
learned what they were supposed to be and mean. I hate that I let hers drift by. I didn't even tell her.
I said nothing, Remus. That's not fair to her. I'll do it up right for her next year. She won't know
what's hit her." A thought suddenly occurs to Sirius as he looks back up at Remus, eyes narrowed
slightly in puzzlement. "When's yours? I've never asked and you haven't said."

Remus shifts a bit, looking uncomfortable suddenly. "March," he mutters.

"Blimey," breathes Sirius, letting his head fall back, though he's still gazing at the other man. "At
least tell me it’s near the end of the month."

"It doesn't matter, Sirius," he answers. "I don't celebrate my birthday. I haven't for years."

"What?" demands Sirius in shock. "Why not? That's ridiculous. Everyone deserves to have a
brilliant birthday, to feel special on their day. C'mon, Remus, tell me when it is. I promise I'll do it
up right for you, even on short notice."

"No," Remus nearly snaps, dropping his fork back down to his own container of food forcefully,
and Sirius pulls away from him without thinking. Remus' eyes dart up to him, suddenly looking
remorseful but still mildly agitated. "I'm sorry," he mumbles after a lengthy span of time, "but I
don't celebrate my birthday, Sirius. Please, just leave it alone."

Sirius nods slowly, saying nothing as he picks at his food, no longer wanting it. Remus stares down
at his knees, his own food forgotten. He eventually sighs and pushes the container away from him,
closing the lid back over top of it.

"My mum had her accident on my fourteenth," says Remus in a small, meager voice. Sirius looks
back up at him, his eyebrows creasing at the center as they fold in, his face forming in a frown.
"We were expecting family that evening, so she was outside trying to clean up the house, making it
look more presentable. My dad's side of the family had always been very judgmental of her,
something I never understood and still don't. She just wanted everything to be perfect for me, for
once. It's because of me that she's gone now."

"Remus," breathes Sirius, but the rest of his words die in his throat. What can he possibly say to
make that hurt better, to heal it? Nothing. There's nothing that will ever take that guilt away from
the man beside him, thinking he's responsible for his mother's accident that eventually led to her
death, to Remus having to live the rest of his days without her. Sirius swallows roughly. "That
wasn't your fault."

Remus releases a bitter laugh. "I know," he says in an almost choking voice, looking up at Sirius
again, meeting his eyes. "It took me years to sort through it all and plenty of people telling me
exactly those words before I finally accepted them. But it doesn't change anything. My birthday
will always be a reminder of it, so it's never something I choose to bring attention to. Doesn't feel
right."

Sirius shakes his head. "From what you've said about your mum, do you really think she'd want
you to ignore it because of her?" he asks gently.

"I know she wouldn't," attests Remus almost easily, and Sirius' frown deepens, "but I can't help it,
Sirius. I can't change the way I feel."

Sirius understands those words now more than ever before. You can't change the way you feel, not
with any sense of ease or logical reason, but he desperately wishes that wasn't true. Sirius pushes
his food away and slowly drapes an arm over Remus' shoulders, hand wrapping around his upper
arm on the opposite side.

"Maybe one day I can do that for you," says Sirius hopefully. Remus offers him a small smile,
looking disbelieving, but he never argues as they fall silent and stare at the floor between them,
their broken pieces scattered across the carpet like mutated jigsaw pieces, a heap of unimaginable
chaos.

--------------------

Later that night, Sirius' curiosity finally gets the best of him and he catches James as the man is
leaving Harry's room. Sirius can hear the boy giggling in the darkness, always resistant to bedtime
when he's feeling rambunctious. Sirius grins as James peeks back through the door and tells his son
to go to sleep before he's forced to sick Padfoot on him. Harry squeals and giggles again, pulling a
nearly matching grin from his father.
He glances over Sirius as he pulls Harry's door mostly closed. "Something wrong, mate?" questions
James, head tilting a little to the side.

Sirius shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Can we talk about something?" asks Sirius,
feeling a little nervous.

James' eyebrows pull together but he nods and motions with his head down the hall to Sirius' room.
Sirius drops down at the head of the bed, the mattress bouncing a little from the force as James
sprawls out over the end, staring at Sirius expectantly but not pushing, though he's clearly hopeful
of what Sirius wants to discuss. Sirius' mind locks down on the expression and the meaning behind
it.

"Just…be honest with me, all right?" prefaces Sirius. "No matter what the answer is." James nods
slowly, a frown creasing his face, and Sirius inhales a deep breath. "Why haven't you been fighting
me over Remus anymore? He's been around a lot recently, and you've never made your displeasure
of him and I getting closer a secret before, but now you seem…I dunno. Almost relieved. So why
the sudden shift?"

"Well," says James cautiously, thinking over his words for a moment before he continues, "I am
relieved, Sirius. Remus is a good person, you were right about that. I'm just happy you've got
someone else in your corner right now."

"But Remus has always been in my corner since I met him," argues Sirius as calmly as he can. "So
why the fight then and not now? I know you, Prongs. It can't just be about…about Gideon."

James sighs and moves to sit up, his hazel eyes shifting over Sirius, like he's gauging his friend's
ability to accept what he has to say. "It is," he finally says, "but it also isn't." He sighs again, more
heavily this time, a hand reaching up and raking through his chaotic hair. "Look, Sirius, I'm not
saying I was wrong. I still stick by all my concerns from before. He's important for you. You need
him to help you heal, but now that extends beyond just your knee, doesn't it?"

Sirius glances away but James powers on, giving Sirius the honesty he'd requested. "He's good for
you. I can see that and admit to it," the bespectacled man says. "You're lighter when he's around,
even when he's talked about. I think he gives you something we can't right now, whatever it is.
And it's very obvious he cares about you, wants what's best for you to help you along the way, and
he gives that, from what I've seen. You need more support than just me and Lils and Harry, and
that's exactly what he's giving.

"But Sirius…" hedges James, his mouth pulling down at the corners, "I don't know that you've
seen it yet, but I think it's more than just that he cares about you. I think he cares about you the
way you do him, even if you don't see that either. And it's more that than any of the rest of it that's
keeping me quiet on the matter."

Sirius shakes his head slightly, not understanding. "What are you talking about?" he asks in
confusion.

James chews on his lower lip as he regards Sirius for a long, silent time, clearly debating with
himself. He clears his throat eventually and says slowly, "When I called him that morning, the day
he came over here and sat with you outside, a few days after…" Sirius winces and James stops his
words, his expression pained as he continues gazing across the bed at Sirius. "He already knew
something wasn't right. It's…I dunno. It's like he could sense it or something. And the fear I heard
in his voice, Sirius…I've never heard fear like that before. He was scared. Scared for you and for
what he somehow already knew had happened. He was angry and terrified and even over the
phone, I could feel it, like he was standing directly beside me. It was like this wave of force that
just flooded the entire world."

Sirius looks down at the blankets beneath him as James' words settle over him. He feels that
warmth spreading through him again, filling in the already filled-to-bursting spaces until he thinks
he might combust with it, going up in searing flames right there in his bedroom. But even if James
is right in his assumptions, what does it matter? Sirius doesn't know for sure, and he can't do
anything about it. Remus had made their positions clear months before. They were friends, nothing
more, and it had to stay that way.

James watches him, like he can see the thoughts swirling through Sirius' head like a vicious,
torrential whirlpool, threatening to pull him down under its force. He leans forward, hand cupping
around the side of Sirius' neck, making him look back up and meet his brother's earnest hazel gaze.

"There are other physiotherapists in the world, Padfoot," he whispers, like he's giving Sirius
permission to finally feel it all, allowing him to accept it for exactly what it is, finally. "I was too
quick to negativity in the beginning, but I'm not sorry I was, because I think by making you
cautious, it's got you something better than you would have had before."

Sirius feels as though he's being crushed under the force of it all, like there's a heavy beast settling
over his back and trying to consume him. Because he's lost. He's broken, has been his entire life,
never mending properly, and maybe this is what it feels like to finally have some of the shattered
pieces glued back into place, still with faint cracks, but better than they'd ever been before.

He looks up at James again and the man offers him a sad smile. "Are we accepting it now?"

Sirius releases a noise in the back of his throat, like a very small whimper. "I don't know what to
do," he says in a shaking voice.

James' smile falls away, leaving only sadness behind. He presses forward, his arms wrapping
carefully and gently around Sirius' back, holding him close, trying to fill him with comfort that
doesn't work, that never works anymore.

"I know," he murmurs. "I know, Sirius. But Lily and I, we're here with you for all of it, every last
drop. You're going to get to the other side of it eventually, I know you are, because I know you."

Sirius sinks into his friend, his entire body trembling under the still crushing, bone-snapping
weight of his life. He presses his face into his friend's shoulder and tries to find the light in the
chaotic, spiraling black darkness attempting to overtake him at every turn.

--------------------

Sirius continues going to Remus' office with him every day, making it through the following week
with little issue until Thursday. He's sitting on the sofa within the man's office, waiting for him to
return with their lunch, when his phone pings, alerting him to a new message. Sirius pulls it from
his pocket, glancing at the screen, the words displayed making his body tense and his blood run
cold in his veins.

(12:34)

Minnette McGoogs: I am requesting a meeting between myself and you at your earliest
convenience to discuss our current situation. Mr Prewett will not be present at the facility when the
meeting is conducted. Please respond to inform me when you will be able to attend so I can
schedule you in.

Sirius reads the message, and he reads it again, and then he reads it another thirteen times,
dissecting it, nudging between the lines of meaning until he comes to one settling, awful truth.
Gideon is still there. He's still on the team. They haven't banned him, they haven't transferred him,
they haven't even suspended him. The man is still there, still playing every day, still gathering in
the huddles with their other teammates. He still feels like he runs the world, reigns over it from his
sham of a powerful position on top of everything.

He isn't sure what the meeting with McGonagall will entail, but he has a few vague guesses. Sirius
has had little contact with any of them since it happened, beyond Frank and Benjy, though his two
friends have so far avoided most conversations steered toward their team or football in general.
Even Alice has been curiously absent from his presence for that past month when she used to make
a point to come round the house at least every other week, bringing Neville to play and run with
Harry while she visited with Lily.

Sirius can sense bad things coming near like a dog with its ears slicked back as a horrible, damning
storm approaches. He's highly attuned to all the horrors life has to offer, can feel them thrumming
through his veins, searing him to pieces like acid clinging to every single cell that moves through
his body.

Regardless of what he can surmise is coming, Sirius sets the meeting up for the following day
when he knows Lily is off work after asking her to drive him there and back. When they arrive,
Lily offers to go in with him, but Sirius tells her she can stay, that he'll be fine. Gideon isn't
supposed to be here. McGonagall had promised.

The team is in the middle of a practice when he enters the stadium, but Sirius avoids them, skirting
the edges as best he can until he diverts from the pitch and enters the interior spaces containing the
changing rooms and offices. He locates McGonagall's in one far corner, her door propped open, the
woman already within, waiting for him at her desk. She greets him pleasantly but with a subdued
air, causing Sirius' heart to pound more forcefully in his chest as she motions to a chair across from
her desk.

"It's good to see you again," says the woman, peering at him over her spectacles. "Thank you for
meeting with me on such short notice."

Sirius nods but he finds he's lost most of his ability to speak, the walls feeling closer than usual, his
mind firmly fixed on the room halfway down the long hall that he'd passed by only several minutes
ago without looking in its direction. McGonagall studies him in the bright light of the office while
Sirius focuses his attention on the orderly chaos of her desktop, stacks of various paperwork sorted
into neat piles, littering its surface.

"First thing," picks up McGonagall when it becomes clear to her that Sirius is going to say nothing.
She removes her severe glasses, making her face look softer. Or perhaps her expression simply
softens as she regards Sirius with observant, gauging eyes. "How are you doing, Sirius?"

Her voice is gentle, not the usual strict lilt he's become accustomed to after all these years. Her
gaze is filled with care instead of the sternness it usually holds whenever it lands on him in most
capacities. Sirius meets her eyes, considers lying, telling her he's fine, there's nothing to worry
about, he's survived far worse than this before, it's what he does because he's a Black and Blacks
have to be tough to keep their heads held high. But he finds he can't. He can't bring the words forth,
make them form on his tongue, everything once more trapped and lodged firmly in his throat. And
if he can't lie, he can't say anything, because the truth is still too much to admit.

McGonagall's mouth pulls into a thin line as Sirius eventually shrugs one shoulder, unable to do
much else. She nods and sits up straighter in her chair.
"Well, I won't keep you longer than I must," the woman declares, suddenly back to business. "I
needed to speak with you in regards to the – "

"I know," interrupts Sirius sharply, his fingers gripping at the arms of his chair. "Just tell me
whatever it is."

McGonagall emits a small noise, something Sirius isn't sure is meant to be a clearing of her throat
or a sound of hesitance. Whatever it is, she continues without further prodding, skipping over her
earlier coming words.

"We have been battling with the Association over this matter," she informs him cleanly, her voice
struggling to remain emotionless, Sirius can tell, "but they refuse to terminate Mr Prewett's
contract. He's too valuable to them, and they won't allow him to transfer teams because his brother
will go with him."

Sirius' grip tightens. "So that's it, then, is it?" he asks, voice nearly blank even as he can feel
something building, raging through his stomach and up into his throat. "He gets to stay. It's all just
that easy? No repercussions, no consequences. He stays exactly as he's always been and I'm
supposed to accept that?"

McGonagall releases a heavy sigh and leans back in her chair, her posture slackening slightly.
"Alastor and I have tried to suspend him at the very least, but the Association has pushed back
against even that measure. The most we can attempt is to bench him, but that does little to remove
him, and I fear even that will be met with backlash. Prewett has a large fan following. People have
been watching him and Fabian for as long as they've been watching you."

Sirius feels what's building surface, pouring from his mouth, the anger festering and turning sour
and disgusting on his tongue. "Does the Association even know what he did?" he demands
desperately. "I didn't want them to know, I don't want anyone to know that doesn't have to, but if
they did – "

His words die in his throat as McGonagall meets his eyes with resignation. Sirius' mouth works for
a moment as he processes what that look means.

"Of course they do," he utters, almost to himself. He bows his head, the leather of his jacket
squeaking around his neck from the movement as he releases a low, bitter laugh. He feels the acid
slicing through him again, burning and ravaging everything in its path. "They know. You wouldn't
not tell them if it meant getting him away. Which means those greedy bastards care more about
their money and their bottom line than they ever have about any of us that earns it for them. But
we've always known that, haven't we?"

"I am sorry, Sirius," says McGonagall, a softer edge to her tone now, and Sirius knows she's
sincere, because she does care about all of them. "My hands are tied too tightly here. There's
nothing I can do, though don't think for a second I'm not still searching. I'm enraged over this entire
matter, and I'd walk away from this whole thing in a heartbeat because of it. But I'm not foolish or
blind enough to think that would fix anything, and I know it wouldn't do you any good at all. None
of you." She pauses and pulls in a deep breath. "The Association is claiming there's no proof of the
occurrence, not accepting any of the eyewitness accounts we have, claiming they're unreliable.
Because of this, it's becoming a matter of your word against Gideon's, which we both know will get
you nowhere, especially in light of the previous…relationship the two of you shared. Mr Prewett
will be watched closely for the remainder of his days here. He will never be left alone as much as
we can help it. But I'm afraid that's all I can offer you right now."

Sirius looks up at her with hollow, pleading eyes. "What am I meant to do?" he asks, begging her
for a suitable answer, one that will fix everything and set it all right again. "Keep going, pretend
like it never happened? Look at his face every day and act as though he didn't – " Sirius stops
suddenly, the words catching in his throat and choking him violently, the force of it drawing
painful tears to his eyes.

McGonagall allows him a few minutes to calm himself before she leans forward, clasping her
hands together over the desktop. "Officially," she says carefully, "you're meant to return. You're
expected to keep playing just as you always have, as a unified team, with no underlying issues or
feelings of animosity."

Her fingers steeple as her eyes meet his again. "But unofficially, you still have time left before
you're healed enough to even consider returning. The Association isn't going to push that process,
because they've tried it before and the results weren't to their liking." She regards him silently for
another long moment before saying, "I suggest you take the time you have and think very hard
about what's most important to you, Sirius, and what direction you wish for your life to lead you."

Sirius leaves not long after, McGonagall's gaze trailing him regretfully as he goes. He walks
through the facility in an almost blind haze, only blinking himself out of it when he reemerges back
onto the pitch, the sun taking him by surprise. He moves around the edge again, glancing up only
once. His eyes meet Fabian's as he passes, the man standing near the edge of the pitch, waiting for
the rest of the team to run through drills. He frowns when he sees Sirius, something shifting over
his expression. He opens his mouth as though to speak, but Sirius quickly looks away, speeding up
as much as his injured, limping leg will allow.

When he climbs back into the car beside Lily, she tries to ask him how the meeting went, but
Sirius says nothing. He remains silent the entire way back home, staring out the window ahead of
him with sightless eyes. He can tell Lily is shifting nervously next to him as she drives, growing
worried the longer his silence stretches on. It's only when they're parked outside the house and
Sirius' legs make no move to retreat from the vehicle that he finally speaks.

"They're doing nothing to him," he says flatly, and Lily frowns.

"I – Sirius, I don't understand," she states in confusion. "What do you mean nothing?"

"I mean nothing," whispers Sirius, demoralized far worse than he's ever been before. "No banning
from the Association, no suspension. They can't even properly bench him. He's there to stay until
he decides to leave, Lily."

"But they can't," protests Lily, horror and disbelief flooding her expression and eyes. "Minerva
would never – "

"She's tried everything, her and Moody both," explains Sirius, closing his eyes as his head bows
down in defeat. "They've been denied at every turn. There's nothing they can do. The Association
isn't backing any of it. They won't take Frank's or Benjy's or even Fabian's accounts with any real
regard. His word against mine, that's what Minnie said. And our history won't help me in that if I
decide to fight back against it. So that's where it all stands. And I'm fucked. Again."

"Oh, Sirius," says Lily softly, her voice sounding heartbroken and lost. He hears her shift in the
seat beside him, glancing up in enough time to see her hand moving toward his face. Sirius flinches
back and Lily stills, her green eyes flashing with apology as she drops her hand between them
uselessly. "You could…there's always reporting him, officially. There wouldn't be much the
Association could do about that."

"What's the point, Lily?" demands Sirius, hoping for anger or rebuttal in his voice but only coming
out sounding hopeless and shattered, the edges of it scraping along Sirius' throat like sandpaper.
"He's got money. He'll get a good lawyer, buy his way out of it. It'll cause a huge scandal,
something that'll bounce back on me and you lot more than him. There's no proof, Lily. There's
nothing but the words of a few disgruntled men to back me up, and that's not nearly enough in the
eyes of anyone that matters. And it's not like he actually…he never got that far, so what's the point
of taking it to that extreme when all it will do is hurt far more than it'll heal?"

Lily squeezes her eyes closed for a moment, her entire body exuding misery and helplessness.
When she reopens them, her gaze fixes on Sirius as she slowly reaches out to take his hand, Sirius
not pulling away from it.

"Yes, he did, Sirius," she murmurs gently, a fierce edge to her voice, a small amount of pressure
spreading over his fingers as she squeezes them a little. "Sirius, sweetheart, he took something from
you. He took all that light I used to see whenever I looked at you and he snuffed it out like it was
nothing, like it didn't matter. That's not all right with me and it shouldn't be with you. He took one
of the things that made you so very special and he tried to rip it away and shred it to pieces, and I
hate him for that, because you've never deserved anything like this.

"And I think…I think sometimes things have to hurt more than we'd like for us to really be able to
heal properly from them," says Lily, her tone now almost soothing but still firm. "We just want
you back with us, Sirius. He took you away with what he did, he stole you out from under us like a
thief in the night, and that's not okay. What Gideon did to you is not okay. I need you to understand
that, luv. You are worth so much more than what he tried to reduce you to with a few words and
horrible actions. You are brave, and incredibly intelligent, and have such a kind, generous soul,
Sirius. You are loved, truly and completely, and you are worth loving. And that's the point, that
you see all that again."

"I – I don't – " stutters Sirius, his breathing emerging from his lungs in shaking, rattling bursts. "I
don't know what to do anymore, Lily." And Sirius crumbles, falling across the small space between
them, his body pressing and weighing against her slighter form. Lily wraps him up in her arms,
envelopes him in her comforting embrace as he begins to cry into her shoulder, unable to hold it
back any longer. Lily shushes him quietly, making soothing sounds, small hands gripping into his
sides like she's trying everything in her power to hold him together as he breaks apart with her in
the car. Sirius thinks she might be crying, too, but he can't be sure, not until he feels moisture
against the skin of his own neck and hears her sniffle.

They stay in the car for a long while, Lily holding him and comforting him until his sobs finally
cease, until his breathing no longer hitches in his chest. One of her hands has moved to the back of
his head, her fingers scratching lightly over his scalp under his hair, the motion and feeling calming
him, a reminder of James' mother doing the same to him the night he'd finally ran from his own
family and into the waiting arms of his new one.

When Sirius finally pulls away, Lily's thumbs press over his cheeks, wiping them clean of the
salted tears that's streaked his skin, leaving it puffy feeling and raw. "Let's go inside," she suggests.
"I'll make you a late lunch."

"M'not really hungry, Lils," mutters Sirius, feeling empty and barren, like a wasteland burned out
and left smoldering after a massive, destructive fire has ripped its way through a once lush
territory.

Lily smiles at him weakly, sadly. "I know, sweetheart, but you need to eat."

Sirius nods, the movement there but barely noticeable. Lily finally exits the car, Sirius following
her to the house but standing inside the entryway once the door is closed behind him, watching his
friend move her way toward the kitchen. He stares around, feeling like everything is bathed in a
different light, harsher, leaving his entire view washed in stark, sharp streaks of greys and whites
and blacks. Nothing seems right, feels correct anymore, like something's been adjusted in him, no
longer level and steady, and he can't seem to put it right again.

He heaves a sigh and limps his way up the stairs to his room, throwing himself down across the
bed as he stares at the ceiling. Sirius only sits up when Lily enters a while later, offering him a
small smile as she sets a plate of cheese pudding and hot cup of tea on the table beside his bed. He
mumbles a thanks to her as she slowly retreats, leaving him to his wallowing for the time being.

Sirius picks at the food, taking periodical sips of the tea – Lily had added honey to it, knowing it to
be a comfort to him on most occasions – but he leaves most of it untouched. He spends his
afternoon alternating between pacing the floor of his room or sprawling across his bed, trying to
make sense of his scrambled thoughts, his jumbled, torturous emotions, everything swirling and
spiraling together until it's all a knotted mess that Sirius isn't sure how he'll ever go about
untangling.

He can't get himself clear of it no matter how hard he tries, can't make a proper decision on what to
do. Sirius has no idea what will make any of it better in the slightest way, nothing in his life
seeming to fit quite right anymore, like he's dismantled a massive jigsaw and smoothed down all
the edges until there's no way for them to ever slot back in where they belong again. It all feels as
though his life has been ripped apart around him by clawing fingers, leaving jagged remains behind
that scrape and cut, digging in deeply, scars forming over that will never fade away, always a
constant reminder of what he once had that no longer exists. Sirius wonders distantly if it ever truly
had.

Sirius releases a huff of breath, a growl tingeing the edges as he grabs for his phone from his
pocket. He opens it to his music, finger flying over the screen forcefully, sending the list of songs
scrolling wildly. He waits until it stops before mashing his thumb down without looking, playing
whatever it lands on without any real interest, only needing something to fill the empty spaces a
little, just enough for him to maybe ignore them for a little while.

As the music begins to play, words immediately streaming from the small speakers, Sirius
suddenly can't breathe any longer, the air in his lungs becoming trapped, locked in like something
is compressing it down. Because of course – of course – it's this song. Sirius feels as though it's
been following him, just waiting for him to open his eyes and take notice. So many months he'd
wasted listening to it, even discussing it at length, and he'd still never seen it for what it really was.

I'll be the lamplight. I'll be the first in line. Kick out the waste of losers and fakers. I'll be the one to
see through the blackest hours. Nights in the darkness. All the nights in the darkness.

He feels so stupid, so foolish and blind. It mixes in with his broken pieces and rustles them like a
gentle breeze, blowing them about until he can't sort out what belongs where anymore, only
knowing the one place they all connect seamlessly and have from the very beginning.

Sirius sits up and pushes himself to his feet as the song trails out, silencing his phone as he walks
from the room purposefully. He hobbles down the stairs as fast as he possibly can, mind focused
and clear for what feels like the first time in years, maybe forever. He pushes past the door and into
the kitchen where he finds Lily waiting on the kettle to finish and flipping idly through a magazine.
She looks up at him, seeming surprised but pleased by his presence, but her face falls as he
suddenly speaks.

"I have to go," he says brusquely.

Lily frowns in confusion, shaking her head slightly. "Go where? What are you talking about, luv?"
she asks, her voice sounding cautious, like she's trying not to spook him.

"Somewhere. I just – " He stops, the words catching at the base of his throat until he has to force
them out. "I can't stay here right now." Lily looks worried, her mouth opening like she's going to
protest but she closes it, some sort of understanding flickering through her green eyes. The concern
lingers in its wake, her shoulders tense. "I'm not going to do anything, Lils. I just need to be
somewhere else right now. I need to try to sort this out in the only way I know how."

Lily's mouth pinches a little as she regards him silently, but she eventually nods and says thickly,
"Do you need the car? I can get James to pick Harry up from the Weasleys' on his way home."

Sirius shakes his head. "No, I'm going to take my bike."

"Sirius, Remus said – "

"Remus was worried about me being exposed while on it, about the dangers of what could happen
while riding," interjects Sirius, recalling a conversation that feels years ago now, but something
that cements his resolve even further within him. "It won't interfere with my knee. I'll be fine. I
need her right now. I need to not be caged inside a metal box."

Lily still looks hesitant, but she doesn't argue as she steps up to him, cupping the side of his face in
a soft, gentle hand. "All right," she murmurs reluctantly. "But please be safe, don't do anything
rash, and let us know you're all right." The red head draws in a long breath, like she's trying to
steady herself. "James is going to be mental when he finds out I've allowed you to do this."

Sirius smiles, leaning into her touch, his hand slotting over hers. "When have I ever listened to you
when I've been this determined. Prongs has no judgement to make here," says Sirius with faint
hints of amusement in his voice and eyes.

Lily breathes out a tiny laugh, pulling him down so that she can press a kiss to the center of his
forehead. "Just be careful," she requests, her thumb brushing over his cheek.

Sirius nods in agreement and then he's gone, her perfume still lingering in his nose. He limps back
down the hall to the front door, snagging his keys from the hook and his jacket before stepping out
and hobbling his way over to the garage, bending and pulling the rolling door open over his head.
His bike greets him in all her gleaming black glory, Sirius instantly feeling a little lighter as his
fingers ghost over the handlebars.

"Hello, old girl," he says softly. "It's been a while. How about we take a spin?"

Sirius slings his jacket over his shoulders, settling his arms within the sleeves before carefully
balancing his weight on his injured knee so he can hitch his other leg over the bike. He settles
down on the seat, drawing up his bad leg until his foot is positioned on the footrest and his knee
only aches mildly from the bending stretch. He inserts the key and flares the engine to life, a grin
forming on his face as the machine rumbles and vibrates beneath him.

He uses his good leg to keep the bike balanced until he's pulling off, slotting it up on the other
side. The still chilled air whips over his face as he drives, sending his hair flying chaotically, but
for the first time in so long, Sirius feels a sense of freedom settling over him. He drifts through the
traffic with ease as he enters the city center, everything fading around him except the road ahead
and the vibration coursing through his entire body.

It only takes about twenty minutes before he's parking in the car park of his destination, Sirius
having driven far faster than was probably recommended for his first time back on the bike, but he
finds he doesn't care as he shifts off the seat beneath him. He gives his knee a few moments to
readjust to the new position and his weight before he takes off walking, throwing the door to the
building open and strolling inside.

Rosmerta looks up in surprise as he enters, her expression shifting to something like confused
delight. "Sirius," she chirps brightly. "I wasn't expecting you. Remus never said you were coming."
Sirius waves distractedly at the woman as he passes by her but doesn't stop or pause, his
determination welling higher. "He's just finishing up. Does he know you're here? Sirius, he might
be busy – "

Sirius ignores Rosmerta's questions and mild attempt to give him pause, rounding the corner and
stepping up to the office door. He raps on it smartly with his knuckles, barely waiting for the
muffled assent before he pushes the door open and steps inside, closing it behind him.

Remus glances up from his desk in surprise, immediately standing when he spies Sirius, face
twisting into a troubled expression. "Sirius, what's wrong?" he demands sharply. "I thought you
were with Lily today? Did she drop you off? Has something happened?"

The man's voice rises higher in pitch as he continues to speak, throwing out worry-laced questions
without giving Sirius a chance to answer any of them. He rounds the desk, moving closer, and
Sirius' heart stutters in his chest as their proximities draw nearer.

"No," answers Sirius when the other man's words finally falter and cease long enough for him to
reply. "I drove myself."

"Drove your – Sirius." Remus' eyes shift over him, taking in Sirius' windblown appearance before
he groans. "Not the bike. Please tell me you did not drive that death trap here."

Sirius ignores the chastisement, continuing in his answers to Remus' previous questions. "Nothing's
wrong and everything's wrong, Remus. Everything has happened and also nothing. I can't do it
anymore. I can't sit in this limbo for another second pretending it’s a perfectly acceptable place to
exist."

Remus' brow furrows as he stares at Sirius, taking another step forward toward him. "I don't under
–"

"Do you remember when you asked me what I'd want, what would make me happy?" asks Sirius in
a rush, barreling past the other man's puzzled confusion. "I lied. When I said I didn't know, I lied."

"All right," says Remus slowly, guardedly, his head tilting a little to the side, eyes narrowing
slightly as he tries to catch up to Sirius' thought process, tries to puzzle out the reasoning behind
his sudden appearance and forceful words. "What do you want?"

"You."

There's no hesitation in Sirius' response, the word coming easily, sounding just as clear emerging
from between his lips as it had in his head more than a month before. There's a certainty in it now,
an acceptance of exactly what he's saying, what he's risking by letting it into the light of day,
exposing it like someone laying themself bare before studious, critiquing eyes.

Remus stills at the response, Sirius seeing even his chest has stopped rising and falling with his
breathing. He stares across the small space between them, brown eyes widening slightly. Sirius can
practically hear the cogs in his brain trying to work, trying to connect the rapidly shifting dots until
they make sense, until they're morphed into something more reasonable and clearer. He finally
sucks in a burst of air as his lungs kickstart again, his mouth falling open to speak, but Sirius
doesn't give him a chance.

"I don't care," says Sirius firmly, resolutely. "About any of it, I don't care. Not about the physio,
not about the ramifications that could come, not even about the bloody lines you've been trying to
keep drawn between where we're meant to stand. Fuck the lines, Remus. Bury them in the dirt,
disintegrate them, send them into fucking space because I don't care. I want you. I've wanted you
since the first day I stepped into this office. And I think you want me, too. Tell me I'm wrong and
I'll leave. You'll never have to see me again, but I don't think I am."

Remus' mouth works silently. He looks nearly frozen, brown eyes completely open and pleading
for something Sirius can't distinguish amid everything else circling around both of them. "It's not
that simple, Sirius," he finally whispers.

"For fuck's – yes, it is!" cries Sirius ardently, furiously.

He walks forward purposefully, closing the distance between them in two quick strides, his hands
reaching up, slotting around the sides of Remus' face, pulling the other man down to him. Lips
crash against lips heatedly, hungrily, and Sirius feels as though he can finally breathe again for the
first time in too long, probably since the last time he'd kissed the man in front of him, or maybe
longer than that.

Remus remains nearly frozen against him, like he can't decide what to do, and Sirius growls into
the kiss in frustration. His fingers spread, shifting back, winding into the mess of brown waves
over Remus' head and tugging as he pushes against the other man, urging them backwards until
Remus is wedged between the wall and Sirius' body and mouth. He grunts a little at the sudden
shift, though it seems to thaw something in him, his hands lifting and gripping at Sirius' sides
beneath the leather of his jacket. He responds to the kiss, pressing back into it with a gasping
breath, his mouth parting, tongue slipping out and flicking over Sirius' lips, asking for admittance.

Sirius moans low in his throat as his own mouth parts in allowance, Remus quickly taking the
offering and exploring the recesses around Sirius' teeth, tongues dancing over one another
experimentally, testing and gauging. Remus pulls him closer until there's no space left between
them, until Sirius' chest is pressed firmly against his, legs slotting between legs, Sirius' hands
dropping down and clutching at the other man's shoulders like he's holding on, trying not to fly too
far away because where he is now is better than anywhere he's ever been before.

Remus' thigh shifts, settling more firmly between Sirius', creating pressure that lights up his every
nerve like an electric shock coursing through him. He grinds his hips forward without thinking,
Remus' eyes flying open just as there's a soft knock on the office door. Both men stiffen before
they surge apart, separating from one another barely two seconds before the door cracks open and
Rosmerta peeks her head in.

Her eyes rove over them in bemusement, light eyebrows drawing together. "Everything all right in
here?" the woman asks timidly. Sirius isn't sure if she can see something in their appearance or if
it's simply in response to the way Sirius had barreled past her upon entering the building, but
Rosmerta is clearly on edge, suspicious and curious, her expression slightly wary.

"Fine, 'Merta," responds Remus after a brief moment. He sounds breathless, but barely, masking it
well, or so Sirius thinks. His own chest heaves, Sirius unable to calm it, and he desperately hopes
that if Rosmerta notices, she makes no comment. "Heading out for the weekend?"

Rosmerta nods. "If that's all right? I wasn't sure if you…needed anything," she hedges, a small
 touch of hesitation in her tone as she glances between them.

"No," says Remus, his eyes shifting to Sirius before back to the woman. "No, you go. I'll take care
of everything else. Enjoy your time away. I'll see you on Monday."

The blonde woman hesitates for another small length of time before she bids them a good night
and retreats, closing the door with a soft snick of sound. When she's gone, Sirius slowly turns back
to Remus, the man's intense eyes fixed on him. He stands completely still, frozen again, like a
statue carved from unyielding, beautiful stone. His face is open, hiding nothing away now, looking
lost and wanting at the same time. Silence stretches between them, Sirius' heart pounding so loudly
in his chest he wonders if Remus can hear it. When what feels like eons has passed, and neither of
them have said anything, Sirius releases a small, fearful noise from the back of his throat.

"Well," says Sirius desperately, a pleading edge in his voice, "say something."

Chapter End Notes

:)
 Wants, Needs, & More
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"Say something."

Remus stares at him, something flickering in his eyes, rising and then falling only to rise again.
Back and forth it shifts, Sirius watching it, tracking its progress, trying to determine what it is, what
it could possibly mean. It won't settle long enough for him to dissect it. He thinks Remus is trying
to control it, fight it back, but he's not sure, the other man looking so wholly open and unmasked.
It's the first time Sirius has ever seen him this way, not hiding anything away, everything laid bare
over his expression, his every thought fluttering over his features, though they're quick, fleeting,
Sirius having no hope of deciphering any of it.

He remains silent, eyes fixed on Sirius, not responding. His hands are clenched at his sides,
knuckles white and straining the pale skin around them. Sirius' face pinches in anger as he stares
back at Remus, a defense mechanism he'd built up long ago.

"Will you just bloody well speak?" he rages at the other man when another minute has passed and
Remus still hasn't moved or said a word. "Tell me you want to fuck me or tell me to fuck off, I
don't care. Just say something!"

Remus' mouth pulls into a tight line, his eyes narrowing at the biting, almost accusing words. He
inhales a deep breath and then his lips finally part, Sirius seeing his tongue roll between his teeth as
he prepares to speak.

"Why is that the only way you ever go about this?" he nearly snaps in frustration. "It's always let's
startle the piss out of Remus, take him by surprise, tackle Remus back against the wall, completely
upend every logical thought Remus could ever have. It's never 'Remus, can I kiss you?' because
that would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

Sirius' anger slips away nearly as quickly as it had slithered its way in. His shoulders relax a small
amount, the tenseness dissipating a bit as one corner of his mouth twitches upwards slightly.

"Remus, can I kiss you?" he asks, fixing the other man with his own wanting grey eyes.

Something in Remus' face crumbles at the words and the look, everything falling away, leaving
only longing on his freckled, struggling features. A strangled noise sounds from the back of his
throat, nearly matching the one Sirius had released earlier. Then his hands are reaching out, fingers
gripping and clinging into the material on either side of the part of Sirius' jacket, leather squeaking
faintly in the silence of the room as he pulls Sirius back in his direction and kisses him.

Sirius all but melts, his arms wrapping around behind the other man, fingers digging in and pulling
him impossibly closer. Forearms and bony elbows press into his chest and gouge into the base of
his ribcage, but Sirius doesn't care, because here it is, the confirmation he's been waiting for, that
he's not insane, not seeing only what he wants. Remus has been holding back as much as Sirius,
every insistent press of lips, swipe of tongue, nip of teeth, and huskily breathed sound telling him
so without words. Remus kisses him like he's been practicing it in his head, making notes of what
he wants to do and how he wants to go about it, every movement feeling rehearsed, ready, like a
grand production playing through Sirius' entire body, strumming like guitar strings under well-
versed fingers.
One of Remus' hands drifts up, winding around the back of Sirius' neck and holding, some of his
long black hair tangling around his gripping fingers. Sirius' own hands find the hem of the other
man's shirt and he forces it up, always cool skin pressing flush against radiating warmth. Remus
gasps into Sirius' mouth at the sudden contact, his eyes flying open again as he pulls back, looking
frantic and apologetic and crippled.

"We can't do this, Sirius," he pants out pleadingly. "We can't. I – I've already told you that." Remus
looks almost shattered in the soft light of the office, the sun fading beyond the windows, casting
the room in deep orange and red hues that wash over Remus' face like fire, blazing him full of so
much life it nearly steals what little breath Sirius has left. "We can't," he reiterates desperately.

"I'm not your patient right now, Remus, and you're not my therapist," says Sirius clearly, keeping
his chin held up, trying to remain calm and not explode emotions over the other man, though he's
beginning to feel as though that's a losing battle, an inevitability, because all of it had always been
so very inevitable. "We're just us, so where's the harm?"

Remus shakes his head in contention. "That's only temporary," he says almost pleadingly, begging
Sirius to understand. "Eventually, you'll come back, you'll have to finish it up. And I cannot treat
you if we're…" His eyes shift over Sirius as his words trail off. Sirius sees his eyes darken, his
pupils expanding within his brown irises before Remus blinks and looks away.

"There are other physiotherapists," voices Sirius stubbornly, parroting James' words. "Pawn me off
on Peter or Marlene if you have to."

"But you'd still be my patient," argues Remus, a mild harshness entering his tone as he tries to push
Sirius away, but Sirius resists it, still clinging on and not letting go. "Everyone that comes here
falls under my banner regardless of who they work with on a weekly basis. They're all mine. You
would still be mine."

Mine.

Sirius gets lost in the word and the idea for a brief moment before he nudges it away to a safe
corner in his mind to pull out and reexamine later, the thought of Remus claiming him even in such
a small way, or Sirius belonging to the other man, spreading the warmth through him again.

"Then I'll find someone else," insists Sirius, not ready to give up yet. He'd come prepared for a
fight and if that's what it took, Sirius is willing to give it everything he has. "You've done the hard
part, Remus. Anyone should be able to get me to the finish line now. So what's the problem,
because I'm still not seeing one?"

Remus shakes his head again, more forcefully this time. "You don't understand, Sirius," he
suddenly cries out angrily, using more strength to finally push Sirius away from him, his hands
falling as Sirius is forced to release his firm hold. "There's so much more to this than what you're
seeing!"

"Then tell me and then bugger it all!" shouts Sirius, stepping forward again while Remus retreats
back against the wall behind him. "Whatever arguments you're trying to build up in your head
about this, I don't care about any of them! Not unless you tell me you don't want me."

Remus' face pinches in on itself, his eyebrows knitting together violently, the expression looking
pained and suffering. Sirius steps forward again, more slowly this time, watching the struggle as it
passes over the other man. His hand lifts and presses flat against Remus' chest, feeling his rapid
heartbeat vibrating through his skin.
"Do you want me, Remus?" asks Sirius bluntly, his gaze not shifting from Remus'.

Remus looks down at the hand resting on his chest before up at Sirius again. His eyes squeeze
closed, a shuddering breath racing through him as Sirius waits, his every nerve feeling exposed and
set aflame. When Remus finally opens his eyes again, they're darker, sadder, desperate longing
swirling in their depths even as Sirius sees the truth contained in them.

"I have wanted you for longer than you could ever possibly fathom," breathes Remus, his voice
barely there at all.

Sirius steps forward once more, until their bodies are pressing together, his hand now almost
caught between them shifting up slowly over the plains of Remus' chest and the curve of his
shoulder until it's wrapped around the back of his neck. He leans in and tilts his head up until their
noses are nearly touching, warm breaths mingling between them like the humid air on a too hot
day.

"And I'm telling you that you can have me," he murmurs, and their lips graze, sending a shockwave
lacing down Sirius' spine. "But only if I can have you, too."

Another small sound escapes Remus' throat before he's caving, his mouth slotting back over Sirius'
easily, like they were molded to fit perfectly. His hands press up under the leather of Sirius' jacket,
shifting it out of the way so his fingers can dig and cling into the fabric lining his back. And Sirius
thinks finally as he feels the remainder of Remus' resistance filter away, as the other man melds
into him, as something inside Sirius locks on and connects like a missing piece snapping into place
after spending his entire life with it drifting off to the side, alone and abandoned.

Remus moans softly and Sirius answers it with his own, the hand still slotted around the other
man's neck pulling him in more firmly. His teeth nip into Remus' lower lip before his tongue is
pushing its way into the warm heat of a mouth, dancing around, flirting with another teasing
tongue, licking over the subtle ridges at its roof. Sirius' hand dips below the collars of Remus'
shirts, blunt nails digging into skin, causing the fairer man to hiss and press further forward, teeth
clacking together as Sirius' other hand shifts beneath the hem of fabric again, knotting the material
around his wrist and pushing up until his fingers are slowly counting ribs one by one, memorizing
their curves and angles.

Remus groans at the touch, his own hands sliding up to Sirius' front, grappling with the leather of
his jacket as he tries to shove it off his arms. Sirius is pushed backwards from the force
unwillingly, not paying much attention to the movements, but Remus follows after him as they
stumble over the floor of the room. Sirius drops his grip from the man's neck, his other hand
coming up to join in its efforts to follow Remus' direction, working the outer shirt from his
shoulders and arms before gripping at the hem of the second and tugging up.

The other man manages to get the jacket off even amid Sirius' own scrabbling movements, the
leather dropping to the floor behind them. Sirius' feet snag on it, tripping him up, sending a painful
jolt through his knee that pulls his mouth from Remus' as he hisses under the sudden shock. Remus
seeks him back out after their initial separation, stealing Sirius' breath again, his arm winding
around Sirius' back and waist, supporting a lot of his weight as he guides him around the obstacle.
He doesn't stop until the back of Sirius' thighs run into the side of the sofa, halting their progress
across the room. Remus uses his holding arm to lift Sirius up effortlessly to sit him on the armrest,
still astounding Sirius with his hidden, deceptive strength.

Sirius groans into the expanding kiss, finally breaking it to drift his mouth down to Remus' chin
and over his stubble-rough jaw, the ache in his knee a distant thing in the back of his mind now.
Remus' hands settle on either side of Sirius' waist, just above the line of his jeans, fingers pushing
up under the fabric of his shirt, finally connecting with skin and searing something viciously
scalding and hungry through him. Sirius releases a faint growl, grip pulling the other man between
his spread thighs, creating a small amount of pressure that he grinds into with slight abandon,
Remus pushing back against him as he tips his head back and to the side, giving Sirius more room
to work when his mouth drops down the line of his neck and begins sucking over his twitching
pulse point.

He begins working at Remus' shirt again, the material winding in his fingers as he pushes it up. As
his skin grazes the other man's with the motion when the fabric is bunched up halfway over his
torso, Remus suddenly stills under Sirius' touch, his eyes widening, chest stuttering as his breathing
catches. He pulls away, his hands shifting over flesh and back above the shirt, only lingering in
their hold on Sirius' waist in an effort to keep him supported in his precarious perch on the arm of
the sofa.

"No," says Remus breathlessly, panic seeming to flood him, and he looks desperate and lost again.
"No, Sirius."

Sirius groans, open-mouthed and frustrated, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling briefly before fixing
back on Remus. "Fucking hell, not this again," he mutters in irritation as he attempts to pull the
man back toward him, but Remus doesn't move. "We've been over this. I want you, you want me.
Bugger the rest! Now come back here."

He continues to paw and claw at Remus, trying to urge him back in, but Remus finally releases his
hold, knocking Sirius' hands away. Sirius wobbles a bit on his perch, but catches himself after a
moment, lowering his good leg back to the floor to hold his support.

"No, stop," bites out Remus harshly, still wide-eyed, alarmed, lost in something Sirius can't figure
out. "You have to stop. You're not thinking about this, Sirius. I can't let you not think about this."

"The fuck I'm not!" cries Sirius, trying to grab at Remus again, but the man only takes another step
back, out of reach from Sirius' grasping hands. "What the hell are you on about?"

Remus suddenly looks incredibly sad and dismayed. His expression tinges with worry and
hesitation as his mouth opens and then closes again, the knot on his throat bobbing as he swallows
roughly, audibly. Sirius frowns at him, not understanding the abrupt shift in demeanor, not seeing
what Remus is so clearly trying to ward against.

"I need you to think about this, Sirius," he reiterates, voice heavy with despondency. "I refuse to be
the person or thing that sets you back, that pulls you back into your…your trauma."

Sirius stills, the hand stretched between them freezing in midair, suspended and like stone. He
hasn't thought about it. Not once since he'd climbed on his bike has what happened with Gideon
crossed his mind, in too big of a rush, too frantic to get here, to get to Remus, to find the truth and
finally, hopefully, have something that he's wanted so desperately. His breathing stutters and
struggles a little as it all crashes back over him again, feeling the rough, gripping fingers, the sharp
elbows. Pain flares intensely through his knee as he recalls the fierce pressure that had been applied
to it, rendering him immobile and half out of his mind with the torment of it all slathering over him
at the time like thick, oozing sludge. It's coating him again now, and Sirius feels his shoulders
hunching under the oppressive weight until he looks up at Remus, meeting his eyes, and suddenly,
inexplicably, most of it is washing away as quickly as it had flooded him.

Remus looks worried, apologetic, troubled. His gaze reflects the unfairness that Sirius feels nearly
constantly in his life, but for once, it's not there with him now. He stares into those warm brown
eyes set into Remus' freckled face, spreading like a map of constellations over his cheeks and nose,
and Sirius feels only a swelling in his heart, possibly even his soul, like a balloon being inflated too
much and not stopping until he's being expanded outwards, filling every possible space in
existence.

"Right," says Sirius finally, the word slow as it leaves his tongue. His gaze shifts over Remus even
as the hand still outstretched between them turns palm up. "Come here."

"Sirius – "

"Come here, Remus," interjects Sirius, not letting him finish, voice insistent but gentle.

Remus looks wildly reluctant, but Sirius waits until the other man's resolve seems to crumble a
little and accepts his hand, taking a small step forward. Sirius pulls him in closer until he's slotted
back between his legs and he can feel the other man's warmth radiating over him again.

Sirius' eyes shift over him, feeling nervous, but he thinks for the right reasons and not the wrong
ones. Remus stares down at him warily, defeatedly. Something in Sirius softens further at the look.

"Touch me," he says. Remus' eyebrows knit together as he hesitates, but Sirius doesn't break eye
contact with him, keeping his expression open, letting the other man see everything.

Remus' face suddenly softens a little as he stares down at Sirius, the concern still there, but a small
amount of the wariness seeming to leave him. The hand not clutched in Sirius' own comes up and
cups the side of his face, settling over his jaw, fingers splaying out across his cheek and down the
side of his neck, his thumb pulling at the corner of Sirius' mouth slightly, gently. He works his
other hand free and presses it back to Sirius' waist, under his shirt, fingertips skimming lightly over
the skin around the lining band of his jeans.

Sirius closes his eyes at the soft touch, waiting for something to surge up and try to strangle him,
choke it all away, push him back into his misery. Remus keeps touching him gently, a little leading
but not too much. Sirius can feel the smooth, easy glide of his skin over his own flesh, can smell
the scent of him with every inhaled breath, citrus and old, brittle paper, and something sweet. Just
Remus, all of it. All the things Sirius has become so very used to and attuned to over the passing
months.

Nothing negative rises up, because there is nothing negative about Remus that Sirius has ever been
able to find. No memories of Gideon's gripping hands fester up and mutate into something horrible
inside him. Sirius doesn't see his sneering, predatory face when he closes his eyes. He doesn't even
hear his taunting words about what Remus would think of Sirius after the fact. It's not gone, Sirius
knows that. It's still there somewhere, lingering, waiting to resurface when he least expects it, but it
isn't here now, not with Remus touching him so tenderly, so carefully and almost lovingly. Not
with the scent of citrus filling his nose and flooding his senses.

And Sirius suddenly realizes that he's never resisted the touch of the other man, not when he's
known it was coming from him. Not his casual brushes of skin or gently holding hands. Even after
everything, Remus is the one person in Sirius' life that he's never flinched away from when he's
been aware of the man beside him or in front of him. He's fallen into those embraces, those careful,
soothing, caring touches, those deceptively strong arms so easily, in a way that even James and
Lily haven't been able to garner from him on a regular basis.

Sirius leans his head into the hand still cupping his face, the soft pad of a thumb stroking over the
corner of his mouth and cheek. He finally opens his eyes again and looks up at the man, meeting
his questioning brown gaze.
"I trust you," says Sirius quietly but firmly. "I trust you, Remus. I've always trusted you. That hasn't
changed. I know you're not going to – you'd never do what he did. I trust you."

Remus releases a small, barely audible noise from the back of his throat. The hand still grazing
over the skin of Sirius' waist retreats and lifts to cup the other side of his face, Remus leaning in
and pressing their foreheads together.

"I would never hurt you," he says vehemently. "Not ever, Sirius. My job is to heal."

Sirius' breath emerges half-strangled, a small sob overpowering him. His own hand comes up and
wraps around the back of Remus' neck, slanting the other man down further, pushing their mouths
back together. Remus comes willingly this time, no hesitation, his fingers winding up into Sirius'
hair and pulling a little, urging his head to tilt back for better access to his entire mouth as his
tongue explores it again.

Sirius feels desperate now, more so than before, but in a different way. There are less jagged edges
filling him, the warmth and glow spreading back through him, softening and dulling everything
sharp and barbed, making room, a space where Remus can fit perfectly, like it had always been
there but only required a little extra help to clear out all the overgrowth of his past and who he's
steadily become throughout his life with every horrible thing taking deep roots and fanning out
until he was nearly overtaken. Even James and Lily had never been able to work their way into him
like this, so effortlessly, so completely. There have always been parts of Sirius that he's kept buried
from the light, kept anyone close to him from ever seeing, but he feels as though Remus is finding
all of them one by one, pulling them out, shredding them apart, dissecting them, before nestling
them back inside him in better forms of what they once were.

Sirius has only ever come close to this feeling once before, of someone maybe being able to gain
this level of depth with him, of being able to possibly slot into that gaping emptiness always
existing within him, but even that had been different. He'd been young, hadn't understood what was
happening, still barely understands it now. Moony had been the first person to ever begin that
careful dissection of who Sirius really is in the very base of his soul, but that had been cut short far
too soon, before Sirius had been able to see it for what it maybe could have been.

But Remus is here. He's not going anywhere, isn't threatening to disappear on Sirius; is, in fact,
pushing closer, gaining more and more depth until Sirius feels as though he's ripped open to the
light for the world to see, but the world is only Remus and has only ever been Remus. The man
protects his open parts from the heinous, prying eyes, blocks everything away, guards against it all,
keeping Sirius as safe as he's always wished he's been and has never been able to truly admit until
now.

He begins tugging at Remus' shirt again, and the man doesn't resist this time, removing his hands
from Sirius' face and lifting his arms so it can be pulled over his head and abandoned in a heap on
the floor in the middle of the room as Sirius tosses it away. Remus' fingers find the hem of Sirius'
shirt and follow the motions as Sirius claws desperately at the button and zip of the man's jeans,
pulling them open and then forcing them down so that they pool around his ankles.

Remus' mouth finds Sirius' neck then, lips skimming over his flesh before sucking a mark into its
base, near his collarbone. Sirius moans low in his throat, his head falling back as his hands grip at
Remus' hips through his pants. His fingers tuck beneath the band, grazing over skin, savoring the
feeling and heat of it under his touch. He starts to push them down over the pale skin, but he only
exposes a small bit of hipbone before Remus is working at his own jeans, trying to get them open
and off, and Sirius pauses, watching the slender fingers move deftly.

Once the button is popped and the zip jerked down, Remus wraps his arm around Sirius' waist
again, lifting him up a bit, Sirius helping by supporting some of his weight on his good leg still
wedged under him. Through their combined efforts they manage to push the trousers and pants free
of Sirius' legs, Remus huffing out a breathy laugh when they get caught around the brace they'd
both managed to forget about. He quickly unlocks the straps and drops it to the side, shifting the
remainder of Sirius' clothing away before his fingers trail over Sirius' knee gently, tenderly.

Sirius watches him with soft eyes but a furrowed brow, trying desperately not to compare the two
juxtaposed scenarios that are trying to war inside his head. Remus glances up at him as his fingers
continue to graze up Sirius' thigh, his eyes shifting slowly up the length of his body before settling
on his face. Remus frowns when he sees the expression present there, removing his hand and
lifting both to cup Sirius' face again. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the lines prominently
exposed over Sirius' forehead, trying to soothe them away.

"We don't have to do this," he whispers.

Sirius closes his eyes for a few seconds, a small, meek smile forming on his features. "I know," he
says, looking back up at Remus, "but that's why I want to."

His hands hook around the elastic band of Remus' pants then and he pulls them down in a couple
shifting movements. Remus' breath hitches as the fabric falls down his legs, and Sirius keeps their
eyes locked as he wraps his fingers around the man's half-hard shaft. Remus sucks in a sharp burst
of air at the contact, leaning closer into Sirius, their lips catching again. Hot, humid breaths pant
into Sirius' mouth as he slowly works his hand up and down over Remus' length, coaxing him to
full attention, something that takes no time at all.

Remus own hands drift over every available section of Sirius' skin he can find on his back and
torso, exploring the ridges and plains of his body like he's been waiting for the opportunity,
charting a predetermined path that's slowly falling apart on him, his movements not hurried or
frantic, but urgent, desperate, needing. Blunt nails rake over Sirius' ribs and he hisses between
them, his mouth dropping down to Remus' chin, teeth nipping in and scraping, feeling the small,
growing hairs there snag a little.

Remus suddenly presses in closer, stilling Sirius' moving hand, eventually forcing it away as it
nearly becomes trapped between them. Then Remus is rocking his hips, his cock dragging and
skipping over Sirius', causing Sirius' entire body to go rigid from the friction. Remus continues the
grinding motions, his hands and fingers gripping into Sirius' back as he leans him further over the
arm of the sofa so he can press down harder, creating a smoother slide between them. Sirius'
fingers clutch at the other man's hips, urging him on, pressing in insistently, begging for more.
Sirius is gasping, moaning into his jaw, his legs trying to gain purchase by wrapping around the
backs of Remus', but he can't get his knee to cooperate to do so.

He releases a growl of mild frustration and pushes Remus always slightly. "Fuck, enough," he says
through panting breaths of air, his hands still clutching firmly around Remus' hips even as he keeps
him away enough to prevent him for grinding down again. "Enough of this. I want you. Where's
my jacket, I need the – " Sirius breaks off as he spies the pile of leather halfway across the room,
but then realization settles in and he his eyes fall closed in defeat as he mutters, "Shit. I took them
out. I always keep condoms in my jacket, but I fucking took them out because I didn't think I'd want
them."

Remus is silent and Sirius cracks his eyes open to look up at the man, seeing him studying Sirius'
face, biting his lip as though considering something. He slowly raising Sirius' leaning form back
up, straightening him out again, his eyes still shifting over his features.

"Promise not to judge me?" he voices finally, a little sheepishly.

Sirius' eyebrows lift on his forehead. "Absolutely not."

Remus smirks at him, leaning back in for another kiss, something Sirius tries to chase when the
man pulls away again. "Stay here," requests Remus, taking a step back, making sure Sirius is
balanced before he's walking across the office.

Sirius' eyes track him, taking in the shifting muscles under his skin, the veins that pop out and
seem to spread over most of his body, Sirius finally seeing them all clearly for the first time. A
Greek god indeed. Sirius licks his lips unconsciously as Remus digs through one of his lower desk
drawers. Remus returns soon after, watching Sirius watch him, two objects held in one hand, a
condom and a bottle of lube.

"You keep condoms in your office desk?" blurts out Sirius as laughter suddenly overtakes him.
"D'you get off often in here?"

Remus scowls at him, amusement tingeing the edges of the expression as he sets the wrapped
condom to the side. "No," he replies a little gruffly. "Pete put those in there mainly as a joke. He
kept saying I needed a good shag and thought I might one day hit it off with one of the reps that
sometimes passes through. I showed up one morning and they were sitting on my desk, wrapped in
a pink bow. Tosser."

"But you kept them," insists Sirius, biting back on another laugh, though he's mostly unsuccessful,
the sound filtering out through his teeth.

"'Course I bloody well kept them!" exclaims Remus, rolling his eyes. "You never know, do you?
Aren't you happy now that I did?"

Sirius nods enthusiastically, a grin spreading out. "You bet your arse I am," he agrees cheekily.
"Well, my arse." His eyes crinkle impishly as he meets Remus' gaze.

"Fair warning, they're in my car, too," supplies Remus before he seems to register what Sirius has
said, his eyebrow arching curiously. "You bottom?"

"Your car? They say that's unsafe, you know?" teases Sirius, laughing again before it fades out and
he shrugs his shoulders. "Switch, actually, but this time…" His hands latch back on Remus' hips,
pulling the man close again, all signs of his previous mirth slipping away. "Definitely bottom."

Sirius watches as Remus nods, the pupils of his eyes blowing out wide and lovely, the brown
becoming almost non-existent, nearly consumed by spreading blackness. Sirius stares in awe as
Remus leans in, stealing his lips in another hungry kiss. Sirius hears the sound of a cap popping
open and a faint squelching noise as the other man douses his fingers in the lube, feeling it dribble
over himself a few seconds later. Sirius exhales into Remus' mouth at the sensation, his lips
trembling a little. Remus finally breaks the kiss, pulling away enough to study Sirius' face.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he murmurs, his eyes suddenly boring into Sirius'. "That's all you
have to do, Sirius. Just say stop and we do."

Sirius swallows roughly around the small lump now settling in his throat, but he manages to push it
back down, anticipation overpowering most everything else. Remus studies him for another long
moment before hooking his arm around Sirius' lower back and shifting him down a bit, supporting
his leaning weight again. His other hand, fingers coated generously with the glistening, slick
substance, drifts feather-lightly over the underside of Sirius' cock teasingly, dropping down, one
fingertip slowly circling the ring of muscle that Sirius can feel twitching at the contact. Then
Remus is pressing his index finger in slowly, Sirius stiffening and tensing at the intrusion before
forcing himself to relax, exhaling a long breath.

Remus pauses, staring fixedly at Sirius, but Sirius only nods, giving him permission to continue.
The other man pushes in further until his finger is buried to his bottom knuckle and then he stills,
making sure Sirius is all right again before he shifts it around a little. Sirius breathes out a small,
encouraging noise and Remus takes it to heart, withdrawing his finger almost completely before
pressing it back in. Sirius' arms surge up, wrapping around Remus' shoulders, holding his support
on the arm better and giving himself leverage so he can push his hips down against Remus'
movements, his body seeking more.

The other man's own arm tightens around his waist as he watches Sirius grind down over him
desperately. Remus seems to take this as encouragement, because he's quickly slotting in a second
finger with his first, pulling a strangled moan from deep in Sirius' throat. Remus holds him close
and seals their mouths back together, swallowing the sound like he's draining the ocean of its water,
drinking Sirius in and leaving him empty but also so very full of everything that matters.

Remus works him open diligently, his fingers thrusting in over and over again, spreading out,
stretching the walls around the digits. He twists them periodically, sending Sirius keening,
breathlessly pleading for moremoremore. Sirius is too lost in it to notice much, the sensations
overtaking him, but when Remus crooks his middle finger up and nudges against his prostate,
Sirius releases a strangled cry, the sound ripping from his throat with force as his back arches, his
chest crashing into the other man's violently.

"Fuck!" he gasps out. Remus chuckles softly as his mouth marks a steady path down Sirius' neck,
searching out that spot again and sending Sirius reeling once more.

After several more stabs at it, Sirius feels a third finger slip in to join the others. Sirius utters a low
groan, his head falling back as Remus keeps his pace, working over his neck and down to the
sensitive point of his clavicle, leaving bruising marks in his wake as his fingers move expertly. He
brushes over that sensitive bundle of nerves again and Sirius' own fingers are digging, clawing into
the skin of his back, leaving angry red lines behind. He draws his good leg up, wrapping it around
the back of Remus', drawing him in closer, cutting off some of the range of motion the other man is
able to achieve, but it doesn't seem to hinder Remus, ceasing in his thrusting movements but
continuing to spread his fingers out wide, still stretching Sirius open.

Sirius is slipping away in it all, feels as though he's being drawn under a constant rushing wave and
pulled back up repeatedly only to sink back under it, struggling for breath, for something to cling
to. Remus is stealing all rational thought away from him, but that's okay, Sirius doesn't think he
needs it anymore, because Remus has him. The man seems to know him down to his very last cell,
like they've been having this dance their entire lives, preparing for it, taking lessons, all for this
moment. Sirius opens his eyes, not even remembering when he'd closed them, looking up and
meeting Remus' brown-rimmed black gaze as the man stares down at him, watching his face in
wonder, Sirius seeing everything he's feeling reflected back at him.

Remus seems to know when Sirius is ready without having to be told, bending down to kiss him
again, more tenderly this time as he slowly withdraws his fingers. Sirius very nearly whimpers at
the loss, but restrains it, though a small sound manages to break through. Remus bumps their noses
together, shushing and soothing him as he grabs the condom and brings it around behind Sirius'
back to use both hands to tear the packaging open. A shudder of mounting anticipation races
through Sirius' body when he hears the noise, Remus pressing his lips to the corner of Sirius' jaw in
response as he rolls the condom over himself in preparation and then uses the bottle of lube to coat
himself.
He pulls away then, just enough to readjust them. Remus keeps Sirius balanced with one arm still
locked firmly around him, using his other hand to guide Sirius' legs up around him, taking extra
care with his injured knee, his fingers brushing over it again softly, almost lovingly. Once Sirius is
situated, Remus wraps his other arm around his back for a better hold as he lines himself up. Sirius
can feel the subtle pressure against him, but Remus doesn't move forward.

"All right?" he asks genuinely, his eyes creasing in concern as his gaze meets Sirius' and holds.

Sirius hums, a very small smile twitching up the corners of his mouth. "I'm good, Remus," he
assures. "Just…" The heel of Sirius' foot presses into the back of Remus' thigh, nudging him
forward only slightly, enough to increase the pressure a faint amount. "Just get on with it, will
you?"

His smile broadens a little more to show Remus that he is fine, that he'll say if he's not. Remus
considers him for a few more seconds before he nods slowly in understanding. His grip tightens
around Sirius' back and then he's pushing forward, the head of his cock stretching the ring of
muscle in a glorious way. Sirius wants to let his head fall back again, but as Remus keeps pressing
in further and further, he comes closer to Sirius, and he tilts his head forward instead, meeting
Remus' once he's buried as deeply as he can go. Their foreheads connect again, Sirius' hands
dropping to grip around Remus' hips, holding him in place, holding on to the full feeling he's
providing.

Sirius sits with it for a minute, and Remus lets him, not trying to move, though Sirius knows it must
be torture for the other man. Sirius is flipping back and forth, between good and bad, right and
wrong, sorting it all out, allowing the best to stay and carefully disposing of the worst without
going too near, keeping his distance from the negative and flooding himself with the positive. This
is Remus, not Gideon, not anyone else. Remus isn't going to hurt him, isn't going to force himself.
If Sirius says stop, Remus will do it without hesitation. If Sirius gets overwhelmed, starts to feel
crushed under the weight of everything else and not this alone, Remus will retreat, but he won't
leave Sirius alone with it. Remus is safe, so Sirius is safe. It's such a simple but so very
complicated way to look at it.

It all filters through Sirius' head in what's probably less than thirty seconds, though Sirius feels as
though it takes far longer. Remus watches him with a soft expression, gauging his features, his
reactions, holding as still as he can, giving Sirius time to work through it all. When Sirius finally
lifts his gaze to meet Remus' eyes and gives a small nod, the other man leans in and snags his lips
in another blazing kiss before he pushes in just a little deeper. He holds there for a few seconds and
then Remus is pulling back until he's almost slipping out again before thrusting back in, slowly,
steadily, giving Sirius the time to adjust to it, to accept it for exactly what it is: Remus there, always
there to give him what he needs the most.

As Remus leans lower over him, Sirius' arms grip around him more tightly, his leg locking more
firmly without hindering his movements too much. He presses his face into the curve of the other
man's neck as the pace begins to increase, Sirius' teeth sinking into the soft flesh under his mouth.
Remus moans deeply at the feeling, his hips stuttering a little before resuming their rhythm that's
driving Sirius nearly mental with too much and not enough.

"Fuck," he gasps into Remus' shoulder, fingers raking over the man's back again. "More, please.
Fuck, Remus, more."

Something seems to shudder through Remus when he hears his name slipping from Sirius' tongue,
his hips angling a bit on their next inward thrust, pushing in a little harder. He hits perfectly against
Sirius' prostate, pulling a sharp cry from Sirius' throat, and then he stills, sitting there with it, Sirius'
entire body trembling from the constant contact. His hands drop back to the other man's hips,
fingers scrabbling over flesh, reaching around and clawing at the soft skin of his arse, silently,
desperately begging.

Remus seems to take Sirius' actions and previous words to heart, because when he finally
withdraws again, relenting on his assault to Sirius' prostate, he's slamming back in with more force,
driving in deeper, hitting on that perfect spot over and over again until Sirius is a keening,
gibbering mess. Sirius' mouth drifts up to the soft, delicate patch of skin just beneath an ear,
framed by chaotic waves of glowing brown. He latches over it, sucking in, pulling a gasp from
Remus.

Something about the action seems to rush through Remus, causing his firmly held grip around
Sirius to falter just a little, just enough, and then Sirius is teetering on the arm as the other man
continues to thrust in with purpose, his body slipping from Remus' grip as he falls backwards into
the sofa cushions. Remus scrambles, trying to catch him, follow him, but he's unsuccessful in both.
As Sirius lands and bounces a little, Remus stares down at him with wide eyes, his mouth gaping a
little. Sirius gazes back up at him, a little disoriented, but then he's throwing his head back and
laughing, the sound filling the room around them, loud and real and something he's done far too
little of recently.

A slow smile spreads over Remus' face as he watches, his eyes dancing in the soft light of the
office. He clambers onto the sofa, his arms wrapping around Sirius and shifting him up easily to
give himself more room. Sirius is still laughing, and Remus covers his mouth with a heady kiss,
swallowing the sound, Sirius feeling the man's chest inflate with it. All mirth fades away from him
then as Remus settles over him, steals his breath again, pushes in once more. Sirius' back arches
with it, pressing their bodies together.

Remus finally separates from the kiss as his slow strokes begin to pick up gradually, his gaze
shifting over Sirius' face reverently, watching his eyes flutter, his lips part. "You're breath-taking,"
he murmurs, his mouth brushing a kiss over Sirius' cheek beneath his eye.

Sirius hands wrap around the back of his head, fingers winding into his mess of brown hair, and he
pulls him back down for another desperate kiss. Remus' hips work against his own, skin slapping
and filling the spaces around them with echoing sounds that Sirius loses himself to, the feeling of it
all, Remus over top him, inside him, filling and covering every part of him like they were made to
fit together this way.

One of Remus' arms stays firmly wedged under Sirius' back, but his other shifts away, his hand
pushing between them, fingers wrapping surely around Sirius' cock. Sirius hisses into his mouth,
teeth biting into the man's lower lip gratefully, using his leg now wrapped around Remus again to
leverage his hips up, pressing into the touch and the grinding force pushing into him. A low moan
sounds from Remus above him, his hand stroking slowly at first before building speed, finally
matching the pace to that of his rocking hips.

"Fuck, close," warns Remus not long after, and Sirius clenches around him as he feels his own
release building like a line of fire coiling in the pit of his belly, preparing to lash out and strike.

Remus thrusts in a few more times before he's coming with a strangled cry that's half moan. His
face buries into Sirius' neck as his hips stutter and press him in deeply, but his hand never stills in
their strokes. The feeling of the other man pulsing inside him is all it takes for Sirius to spill over
his fingers, coating their stomachs with smearing strips of pearlescent white. He gasps into Remus'
shoulder, his body trembling under the other man's as he's pulled high into the sky, floating above
it all distantly.
Their chests heave together as they both slowly come back down, Sirius' hands still gripping at
Remus' hair. The other man is supporting his weight over Sirius, trying not to collapse down and
crush him, but his arms are beginning to shake. He finally slips out, Sirius releasing a small grunt
at the loss, and Remus rolls to the side, settling between Sirius and the back of the sofa, though half
is body is still resting over Sirius' within the small amount of space. Sirius doesn't mind.

Remus' clean hand rests over the side of Sirius' face as he leans in and presses a tender kiss to his
temple before pulling back, his gaze shifting over Sirius' blissful features as his grey eyes stare up
at the ceiling. "All right?" he asks gently.

Sirius looks at him then, a drowsy, dopey smile breaking out over his face. "Better than," he
responds. His own hand comes up, pulling Remus down into a slow, drawing kiss. "That was…far
better than I ever imagined." He sees the other man's eyes narrow a little at the words, the corners
of his mouth twitching. "Do not," warns Sirius.

"You've been picturing it," says Remus slyly, ignoring Sirius' words.

Sirius rolls his eyes but relents, figuring what's the harm now. "Since the first time I tried to
remember all the lyrics to London Calling while I was standing right there," he admits, nodding his
head to the floor in front of the sofa.

Remus hums, the smile that's slowly pulled over his face still in place as he stares down at Sirius.
"Thought so," he returns.

"You knew?" demands Sirius, his mouth dropping open a little. He reaches up and shoves at
Remus' shoulder a little, his tone turning mildly accusing as he utters, "You knew."

"I didn't know," disagrees Remus. "I had a feeling, a suspicion. I never knew for sure. Well," he
amends thoughtfully, "not until you kissed me by sneak attack."

"It wasn't a sneak attack," argues Sirius indignantly. "How could it have been a sneak attack when I
never planned it? Attacks have to be planned, Remus, everyone knows that. Everyone."

Remus releases a faint chuckle, only saying in reply, "If you say so, Sirius."

"I do," he insists. "I didn't plan it. It just happened. You've no idea how hard I'd been resisting
when it did."

Remus gazes down at him, almost all signs of his mirth disappearing, his expression turning to
something more earnest. "I think I do, actually," he says. He continues to stare at Sirius until his
head finally lowers, moving slowly. Remus pauses, hovering just above Sirius, so close he can feel
the other man's breath ghosting over his face. Sirius' heart beats a little more rapidly in his chest,
the flutter back in his belly returning again, harder than ever before, hitting roughly with
anticipation now instead of uncertainty.

It feels like eons but also only seconds before Remus is closing the distance between them, his lips
covering Sirius'. The kiss is gentle this time, less straining need and fire and more slow exploration,
there only for the simple pleasure of mouths melding, tongues dancing, learning one another
though it feels as though they already know each other and have done forever. Sirius' hand wraps
around the back of Remus' neck, fingers winding into his hair again as Remus' slips across the skin
of his abdomen, clutching at Sirius' side tenderly, like he's trying to hold him there, scared he'll
vanish into the cushions beneath them without his steadying grip.

When they finally part, Sirius uses his fingers gripping in Remus' hair to pull him back a little more
so that he can look at him properly. "I don't understand," he says in bemusement. "If you knew – or
suspected, whatever – why did you let me keep on? All the comments, the incessant flirting –
which you returned, by the by. That was confusing as fucking hell."

Remus' smile has returned, his fingertips stroking up and down Sirius' side delicately, like he's not
even thinking about the action. "I was letting you be yourself," comes the simple reply. "I didn't
want you to be anything else." He shrugs the shoulder not being used to support some of his
weight. "You flirt with everyone. It's like breathing to you. Who was I to curve that away?"

"Yeah, but – "

"Sirius," says Remus gently, overriding Sirius' coming words, and his tone and expression are
suddenly more grave, solemn and serious, the amusement and lightness of the moment gone
temporarily. "There are a lot of things we need to talk about. I realize that. But there's only one that
I'm worried about right now." His eyes sweep Sirius' face like he's analyzing something Sirius can't
sort out. "Are you okay?"

His fingers continue to graze over the skin of Sirius' side as he stares down, face open and
accepting of whatever Sirius has to say. Sirius, for his part, begins to shrink back from it, but he
stops himself. Now that his mind and body are no longer boiling over with lust and need, he gives
it space to settle back in, just a little. Is he all right? Remus is still pressed close, hand and fingers
still present on his bare skin, and Sirius feels no urge to separate from it like he thought he would.

After Gideon, sex had become an almost impossibility to him, something he'd stopped considering
in any graceful or wanting light. He'd stripped his jacket and room of everything involved in the
act, tossing away condoms and lube, everything he'd had stashed away. Sirius hadn't even touched
himself, hadn't wanted to at any point, the very thought making his insides squirm horribly, nausea
rising, bile surging up his throat that he'd swallow back dutifully.

Any mention of it in his daily life had been nearly enough to render his heart ineffectual, stuttering
in his chest in the worst way. For a while, the very thought or brief, passing comment to the subject
had almost forced his mind to shut down on itself. Watching the telly had become a hurdling feat
sometimes, Sirius finding himself changing the station or turning it off completely when the
casual, sometimes fleeting remarks on the screen became too much to bear. Venturing back out
into the world had been even more difficult. London, as a city, is incredibly sex obsessed. Sirius
has learned, mostly, that when traversing the streets within a car, it's best if he keeps his eyes
firmly fixed down or unfocused if he stares out the window at the passing buildings and signage.

But with Remus, it hadn't been that way, and Sirius is only truly realizing that now. He hadn't paid
as much attention to it as they'd roamed over pavements or rolled through the city within the
confines of his car. Remus had pulled his focus, kept him level, elevated even, his head safely
above water with little fear of crashing back under the suffocating surface. Remus, with his soft,
gentle ways and warm, honey-tinted guiding light, has steadily been giving Sirius small pieces of
himself back without Sirius really noticing, each one slotting back in effortlessly, the cracks
remaining between them but slowly sealing up with more and more passing time.

Remus, seemingly filled with only true care and honest, never avoiding words, has been the one
constant for Sirius throughout everything. He's never looked at Sirius any differently, never treated
him like he's damaged beyond repair or too broken to ever come back from any of it. Instead, he's
taken Sirius' hands in his and tried to lead him through it, a firm weight, reliable, present in
everything, always there, gently urging him toward the right path, bathing him in his healing light
that Sirius thinks shines more brightly than anything else ever has or will. He'd never rendered an
adverse reaction within Sirius, never pushed him further than he somehow knew Sirius could go,
remaining steady, solid, accepting of both setbacks and steps forward whenever they've come.

Sirius stares up at him now and slowly nods, his throat feeling tight, like something is trying to
choke him. Some too quickly rising realization that he tries to swallow down, more than just the
simplicity of wholly not simple feelings he's only just recently accepted as truth. So much more
than just feelings, the word striking in his head like a gong hit with a heavy mallet, ringing and
rattling to his very core. More.

He pushes it down because it's too much for him to deal with now in the wake of everything else
that keeps rolling over him like thunderclaps, having only just accepted the feelings part of it all
barely more than a week ago.

"I'm okay," he says finally, Remus having watched him with soft, patient eyes as Sirius had sorted
through his jumbled emotions. "I told you I'd say if I wasn't."

Remus nods in return, his fingers not having ceased their motions. "I just want to make sure," he
murmurs, and Sirius can see the truth gleaming in his eyes, that he is concerned, only wants Sirius
to feel safe with him, but Sirius has never felt more secure with anyone in his entire life than he
does right now with Remus by his side.

Harsh, threatening, vicious words spill into Sirius' mind as he stares up at Remus, and he squeezes
his eyes closed against them, trying to block them out, but they keep coming. Remus' movements
still briefly, his fingers gripping gently. When Sirius forces his eyes open again, he sees the other
man looking down at him questioningly, and Sirius swallows roughly, a burn filling his throat that
doesn't immediately go away.

"He knew," whispers Sirius. Remus frowns a little in bemusement, and Sirius inhales a deep breath.
"How I felt about you, he knew. Everyone knew before I did, before I admitted it to myself.
Doesn't really seem fair, does it?" Sirius rolls his eyes, but the annoyance isn't really there like he's
trying to pretend it is. He fixes his gaze back on Remus' face, but shifts it away quickly, not able to
hold it as he continues in a small voice. "He used it against me. To hurt worse, maybe, break me
more. I don't know."

Remus' fingers falter for a moment before restarting, keeping up their steady glide over Sirius' skin.
He chances a glance at the other man before looking away again, a deep crease forming between
Remus' eyebrows as his forehead wrinkles in a more pronounced frown.

"He said you'd look at me differently, because I'd be damaged," says Sirius meekly, hearing the
words wash over him again and again, like an unrelenting tide. "He figured you'd never want me
because of it, because he'd…ruined me, I guess. And he did, I think. Ruin me. I don't – I don't feel
like myself anymore. Lily said he took something, and I think she's right. He took something I can't
ever get back, like he broke off this whole large chunk of what made me me."

Sirius' breaths are emerging heavier now, like he can't get enough air in to equate for how much is
being forced out. "But you still took me," he says almost desperately now, the words a little
strangled. "Even with all the broken bits, you're here, so he was wrong, wasn't he? He was wrong,
Remus. I need you to tell me he was wrong. But that's not fair to you, is it?" He feels hot tears prick
at his eyes, but he forces them back. "Offering myself up, handing myself over without those bits,
without being whole, with all those missing pieces that he stole away."

"Whoa, hey. Sirius," says Remus suddenly, his hand coming up, cupping the side of Sirius' face
and urging him to meet the other man's eyes. When Sirius does, Remus leans his head down and
kisses him tenderly, Sirius releasing a gasping, shuddering breath into his mouth. When Remus
pulls away, his thumb strokes soothingly over Sirius' cheek, trying to calm him. "He was wrong,"
he tells Sirius vehemently. "You are no different to me than you have ever been. I still see all of
you, even the parts you think are gone. I don't know if you're whole anymore, Sirius. I can't tell you
how to feel, but to me, you're still every bit the man you were before. Kind and clever and so
unfairly funny that it should be a sin.

"He tried to break you, but I don't think he did, Sirius," murmurs Remus, thumb still smoothing
over skin as he ghosts his lips over Sirius' other cheek. "You're still exactly as you've always been
to me, nothing less. You're not some bruised piece of fruit to be discarded. You are perfectly
brilliant in every way, and someone like Gideon Prewett will never change that, not for me. He
didn't ruin you. You are not ruined, not in any capacity of the word."

Sirius doesn't respond, only pulling Remus down into another kiss. It lingers for a while, and when
they finally part again, Sirius releases a small sigh. He feels heavier but also lighter, like he's stuck
between something and can't decide if it's a good place to be or not. His knee is beginning to ache a
little, and he flexes it, stretching his leg out a bit more as he groans faintly.

Remus looks down at his shifting leg and then back at Sirius' face, seeming to come back to
himself a little. "We should probably get up," he says slowly, glancing over their sprawled bodies.
"Clean up. Leave the office." He suddenly huffs out a mildly amused breath of air. "I think I might
need a new sofa."

Sirius grins up at him. "If you get rid of this one, I call dibs," he claims, the expression broadening,
filling his entire face. "Souvenir."

Remus smiles, bending down and kissing him chastely. "You'll have to fight me for it," he says
softly, lips ghosting over lips. Sirius moans just a little, melting against the man again.

He finally lifts himself away again with a sigh, then he's shifting, mindful of Sirius' knee as he
swings one long leg over and settles it on the other side of Sirius' hips so that he's momentarily
straddling him. Sirius' hands come up automatically, clutching around the other man's hips as his
breath sticks in his throat. Remus smirks down at him but keeps moving, slipping from Sirius' grip
and off the sofa completely.

Sirius watches him as the man pads across the soft carpet to his desk, stripping the condom,
discarding it and the packaging he'd collected as he'd moved away into the bin. As Remus stashes
the bottle of lube back in his desk drawer, Sirius attempts to sit up, but he stops, groaning a little
and twisting his nose in disgust as he looks down at himself, his finger poking a little at the crust
now coating the skin of his abdomen.

Remus is moving about the room, collecting their discarded clothing. He pauses as he bends to
pick up Sirius' jacket from its crumpled heap, glancing over at him, a slight upturn to his lips.
Remus walks to the armchair and deposits the clothing over its back before grabbing his abandoned
pants and trousers from the side of the sofa along with Sirius'. As he quickly pulls them on, his
eyes rove over Sirius' outstretched form like he's drinking him in, memorizing every minute detail.

"Stay there," he says, almost a command, and Sirius' eyebrows arch high on his forehead, a smirk
of his own slipping into place. Remus huffs, rolling his eyes in amusement. "I'll be right back."

He slips out from the room then, and Sirius lays mostly still, watching the open door and the
almost darkness beyond it, waiting for him to return. His mind tries to drift on him now that he's
left alone, but Sirius stifles the thoughts down, squashing them under a boulder to hold them at bay.
When Remus finally reenters, Sirius smiles up at him as the man sits at his side on the sofa,
revealing a damp flannel in his hand.
He slowly moves it over the mess on Sirius' abdomen, the fabric warm and soothing, Remus
meeting his eyes and holding as he wipes him clean. Sirius' fingers wind around the moving wrist
loosely, feeling the sharp, jutting bones, memorizing them for future use. When Remus is finished
with the flannel, he slowly lifts his hand, Sirius' moving with it as he doesn't release the wrist in his
hold. Remus' lips press against his knuckles and Sirius feels his breath hitching again in his chest,
that fluttering in his stomach nearly overwhelming him once more.

"Come on," says Remus as he lowers their hands back down and stands. "I'll help you up and into
your trousers."

"I'd rather keep them off, thanks," cheeks Sirius with another smirk.

One of Remus' eyebrows lift as he leans down closer, his hand slipping over the skin at the side of
Sirius' face, fingers parting and slotting around his ear. "Sirius," he says, and the name is like a low
rumble in his chest, sending a delightful chill down Sirius' spine, "put your trousers on so we can
go to my flat."

Sirius stares up at him for a moment before his words register and a large grin breaks out over his
face, a thrill racing through him. Remus chuckles and caresses his skin the soft fingers. "Now he
gets it," the man murmurs affectionately.

Sirius finally sits up with Remus' help, swinging his legs off the arm of the sofa and planting his
feet on the floor as he stands. Remus reaches over, grabbing Sirius' clothing where he'd deposited
the items on the armchair, gently helping to guide his legs back into his pants and then trousers,
the man looking up at him as he crouches down. Sirius' hands brace on his shoulders, fingers
running over bare skin, and he's suddenly reminded of his first day inside the room, of Remus
doing almost the exact same thing and Sirius trying so desperately to keep his desires hidden.
Remus smiles at him, and Sirius wonders if he's thinking about the same thing.

They finish dressing in mostly silence, tidying the office as much as they can before Remus grabs
the remainder of his things and they leave the room. Sirius waits at the front while Remus checks
the other entrances to the building before returning and setting the alarm as they depart. While the
other man is locking the door, Sirius begins limping across the car park, Remus turning when he's
finished and trying to stop him.

"Where are you going?" he asks in puzzlement. "My car's over there."

"Yeah, I know, but my bike's here," responds Sirius as he approaches the machine gleaming in the
bright lights overhead.

"We can go together, Sirius," says Remus as he begins to follow him across the lot.

"I know," agrees Sirius, turning as he finally reaches his bike to grin expectantly at Remus. The
other man stops suddenly as Sirius' intentions dawn over him.

"Oh, no. No. That's not happening," protests Remus. "I have a prefectly good car right over there. I
can bring you back for your bike later."

Sirius leans back against the metal and chrome, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket,
crossing his legs at the ankles to relieve the pressure on his knee a little. His grin fades to an
amused smirk as he stares across the space at Remus. "Scared?" he taunts teasingly.

Remus seems to hesitate as his eyes rake over Sirius. "No," he denies, though there's less power in
it than he seems to have expected, his tone weaker and a little shaky with something that Sirius can
tell is nothing akin to fear. His smirk broadens as Remus' gaze continues to drift over him. "I have
been on a motorbike before."

Sirius hums and nods once, slowly, as his eyes glance over the dark car park before settling back
on Remus. "Have you been on mine?" he asks coquettishly.

Remus seems to fumble with that, much to Sirius' delight, eventually coming back with nothing,
simply glaring at Sirius without any heat. Sirius chuckles and pushes himself back up, Remus
watching his every move as he swings his leg over the seat of the bike and settles down like
slotting into a place perfectly designed for him. He turns back to Remus as he offers his helmet out
to the other man, the pale grey one that Lily had bought him because she'd said it matched his eyes
and he'd let Harry doodle on before promptly sealing over it so the drawings would withstand the
weather and remain permanently.

Sirius' gaze follows Remus' movements as he finally steps closer to him, his eyes still taking in
Sirius' form almost reverently. "You know," says the man after a few beats, taking the helmet in
his hands, fingers tracing over the squiggles of the drawings, "everything I've said about you being
exposed on this thing was true, but…" He glances back up at Sirius then, eyes intense. "One of the
largest reasons I never wanted to see you riding it is I knew I'd never be able to resist once I saw
you on it like you are now."

Sirius opens his mouth to make a cheeky comment, but Remus doesn't give him a chance, taking
one last step forward, bending over Sirius, and pressing their mouths together. Sirius grunts in
surprise, but his hands slot in around the other man's waist, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.
When Remus takes a half-step back again, Sirius is breathing heavily, the other man's eyes more
black than brown once more.

Sirius swallows and clears his throat. "Think you should get on now," he advises tightly, his words
clipped, "before you force me to get you off in the middle of the car park."

Remus huffs out a breathy laugh, but he tugs the helmet on over his head and then clambers onto
the bike behind Sirius. His hands settle back on Sirius' sides, holding firmly, and Sirius sits with it
for a steadying moment, because though Remus isn't pressing up against him, Sirius can still feel
his heat spreading around him like the sun on a cold day.

Sirius kicks the bike to life, the loud, vibrating rumble coursing beneath them seeming to startle
Remus, the man's grip tightening just a little. Sirius barks out a laugh as he revs the engine and
then steers them to the street, headlight bouncing and reflecting off the shining puddles of water
that had gathered from the apparent rain that had fallen while they'd been otherwise occupied.

He drives no differently than he normally would with Remus behind him, zipping in and out of
lanes of traffic, rounding corners probably terrifyingly fast and reckless, at least in appearance to
the man behind him. Remus' arms latch around his front as they turn quickly onto a new street, the
man's chest pressing in close in his nervousness. It's a touch uncomfortable, the weight bearing
down on Sirius' spine with the way he's balanced over the bike, Remus' legs squeezing around his
hips with his forward movement, but Sirius finds he doesn't care, pushing back into the hold,
encouraging more.

They're about halfway to Remus' flat when the man's fingers work their way under the hem of
Sirius' shirt, grazing over skin. The contact sends a shock through Sirius' body, his arms jerking on
the handlebars, causing the bike to wobble beneath them. He hears Remus stutter out a laugh into
his ear, but it's only when they stop at a traffic light that Sirius turns and fixes Remus with an
accusing glare, though he knows it doesn't pack nearly enough of the proper punch.
"Don't do that," he warns. Remus only grins wolfishly at him and something inside Sirius wriggles
pleasantly as he turns forward again, licking over his suddenly dry lips. If his speed increases after
that, Remus only has himself to blame.

When they finally arrive, Sirius parks in the alley beside the small building, keeping the street
parking clear for people with cars. Remus dismounts the bike and then stands back, watching with
observant, lust-filled eyes as Sirius does the same.

"I cannot believe you have a motorbike," he comments as they walk to the front of the building,
rolling his eyes to the sky and fixing them there for a moment. "I've known since we ran into one
another at that shop, but you do realize it's almost too much, don't you? The hair, the eyes, the
jacket, the bloody tattoos. One on its own is bad enough until you lump them all together, then it
becomes greatly unfair. But you throw the bike in with it and pin you up next to it…fucking hell.
That's just…like medieval torture."

Sirius doesn't say anything, but when Remus finally looks at him as they push their way into the
building, he's grinning madly, his eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. "Oh, hush up," mutters
Remus. Sirius laughs behind him as they climb the stairs, Remus shaking his head with every step
he takes.

When they step into the flat, they shuck their jackets, leaving them and their keys on hooks by the
front door, Sirius taking a moment to observe his things hanging there like they belong, a small
smile playing on his face. Remus moves through the sitting room to the kitchen as Sirius slowly
settles down on his sofa, the man calling out with the question of tea that Sirius confirms as he
gazes around.

It's not the first time he's been to Remus' flat, having come with a couple times when they'd been
running about together. He'd been pleased to see that his home is just as warm and inviting as his
office, random pieces of artwork spread out over the walls, compliments of soft and rich colors
adorning most everything with furniture used as accents. It's a small space, though Remus says it's
all that he needs, just a bed, bath, cozy sitting room, and tiny kitchen, but Sirius finds that he likes
it more every time he returns. It's comforting, just like Remus. It smells like him everywhere,
flooding Sirius' senses full of the other man, attacking him and almost barreling him over to the
floor with it all now that he's had him so much closer than ever before.

Sirius sits on the sofa, waiting for Remus to return, his head spinning a little, basking in that warm
glow. He takes the opportunity to pull his phone from his pocket, sending James and Lily a quick
text to tell them he's fine before turning it off. His eyes shift around the room when he's finished,
stopping when they settle on the open bedroom door when he spies something that draws his
interest. Sirius stands and slowly makes his way over, stopping just inside the frame and staring.

It's the print Remus had purchased from the shop the night they'd had to leave the cinema. Sirius
either hadn't noticed it last time he was here, or Remus had only just recently managed to hang it in
place, framed now in simple black. Sirius stares at it now, placed on the wall to the side of the
man's bed where it can be easily seen while lying within it. The colors of the two faceless people
amongst the sea of blacks and greys seem more vibrant here than they had in the shop, drawing
Sirius in and back in time, remembering the sweet smell of chocolate biscuits and the soft, melodic
sound of laughter that had filled Sirius full even back then.

Moony. Sirius thinks about him a lot now, has found himself thinking about him more and more in
the passing months, far more than he has in years. The boy had been like a small saving grace to
Sirius back then, pulling him out of some of the darkness Sirius hadn't even realized at the time he
was buried within. Moony had opened his eyes to a great many things, changed Sirius' set course,
 derailed everything he'd thought he'd known so well.

His only true regret about any of it now is that he'd never learned the boy's real name, and that he'd
never given his own, both sticking to nicknames hard earned, protecting things neither had been
willing to discuss at length, or at all. Sirius thinks that maybe, with a name, he would have
eventually been able to track the boy down, find him somehow, no matter how far he'd gone, and
possibly things would have been different.

Sirius' eyes shift to the kitchen, where he can hear the sound of the kettle finishing behind the
closed door before his gaze slips back to the artwork. He readjusts his thinking, because now, with
Remus in the other room, finally right there exactly where Sirius is and has always wanted the
other man to be, he thinks he's happy with the way things worked out after all.

"Biscuit?"

Sirius jolts a little, startled by the sudden voice behind him. He turns to see Remus with a small
plate of chocolate biscuits held out to him, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile. His
eyes shift to the print before settling back on Sirius, an unreadable expression glinting in his brown
irises. Sirius smiles and steps away from the door, accepting one of the sweets before moving back
to the sofa with Remus. There are two cups of tea sitting on the table in front of him, Remus sliding
one over to Sirius, who picks it up and takes a sip, looking down at it in surprise as he does so.

"Honey?" he asks, glancing up at Remus. "How did you know that?"

Remus looks at him a little blankly. "I didn't," he responds. "But I like it sometimes, especially
after a rough day or…other things. I hoped maybe you would, too."

Sirius looks back down at the cup, breathing out a small laugh as he shakes his head. Remus eyes
him a little warily, curiosity filling his expression. "It never ceases to amaze me how easily you
seem to be able to figure me out," he murmurs, looking back up at Remus. "Like you're a mind
reader or something. It's uncanny."

Remus hums softly, the look in his eyes shifting warmly. "Maybe there's a reason for that," he
muses with a slight upturn of his lips.

Sirius matches it. "Maybe," he agrees.

Sirius finishes his tea quickly, the honey warming him now in a way Lily's hadn't earlier in the
day. Once he deposits his cup back on the table, he leans back with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes,
simply letting himself sit and not think for a little while.

He's not sure how much time passes before he hears Remus set his own cup back down. "We
should probably shower after earlier," the man says benignly, a light edge to his tone that makes
Sirius reopen his eyes. When he glances over at Remus, he sees the man staring at him with an
arched eyebrow and Sirius grins.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, I think you're right. Shower's probably for the best."

He doesn't wait for a reply, simply leaning over and pressing Remus back into the arm of the sofa,
covering his mouth with his own. Remus laughs against him, pushing up into it until he's urging
Sirius back enough so that he can stand and pull Sirius to the bath after him.

Chapter End Notes

Were you angry with me after the last chapter? Does this make up for it? :)
 Good Mornings, Guilt, & Cakes
Chapter Notes

Earlier than usual update, but the next couple days promise to be rough, so I don't trust
myself to post this in a proper timeframe. Enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius emerges from sleep slowly, disoriented and confused, his body aching in a strangely
delightful way. He keeps his eyes closed, breathing in the out of place but still somehow familiar
scents around him. He stretches a little, flexing his muscles, joints popping gorgeously, before he
pauses, realizing his bed feels different beneath him, the sheets tangling his legs not the same as
his own, not as soft but also somehow infinitely softer. And they settle over him everywhere, too
slowly clueing Sirius to the fact that he's completely starkers beneath their light weight.

It's not the first time Sirius has woken up in a strange place and an even stranger bed. On random
occasions, Sirius has been known to follow one of his pulls home after a night out, falling asleep
before he can leave and waking with some stranger stretched out beside him – or sometimes, under
worse circumstances, half on top of him, clinging like an octopus. Sirius shudders internally at the
thought. Even the times he's felt comfortable enough to return to his own rarely used flat, he's
woken disoriented and baffled to not be safely ensconced within the Potters' warm walls.

So, while not an altogether unusual occurrence, what's striking Sirius as odd now is that he's in this
predicament at all currently. He's had no want or desire for sex with random blokes recently, not
even an inkling of the thought, leaving him uncertain, off-balance, teetering and reeling like he's
suspended over a bottomless abyss, just waiting to fall. Something grips tightly around his lungs,
filling his chest with panic, and Sirius scrubs at this face roughly with his hands, trying to sort
through and calm his scrambled, jumbled mind. He doesn't even remember going out the previous
night, his head too fuzzy from the first seemingly peaceful, undisturbed night's sleep he's had in
over a month.

Carefully, cautiously, Sirius slowly cracks his eyes open, sweeping his gaze around the room he
finds himself in, trying to recall details of how he'd ended up here, or where he even is. The space
is warm, inviting and welcoming, rich colors adorning the walls. Something about it seems
vaguely familiar, but Sirius isn't sure why. He's even less certain why the clawing hands clinging to
his lungs and heart suddenly relent a little in their hold. His eyes continue to shift around until they
land on a framed print beside the bed, the bottom dropping out of Sirius' stomach as he instantly
recognizes it, everything flooding back to him clearly as his gaze finally settles on Remus,
stretched out and still sleeping beside him.

He blinks rapidly, his mouth dropping open a little as his eyes begin shifting over the other man.
One arm is stretched up around his head, his face turned towards it and half hidden in the crook of
his elbow, light eyelashes dusting over the top of his cheek delicately, casting faint shadows in the
early morning sunlight filtering through the window at Sirius' back. The sheets have dropped down
a little throughout the night, settling just above Remus' navel, leaving the remainder of him
exposed to Sirius' hungry gaze as he follows the path of those prominent veins in his arms that
wind like small rivers nearly all the way to his shoulders. As the memories of the night before
crash over him, reminders of what he's now permitted to have, he feels the overwhelming urge to
lick them, so he does.

Sirius leans low, his hand trailing lightly up the length of Remus' more relaxed arm at his side as
his mouth starts at the man's wrist. Remus doesn't stir from the touch, so Sirius works his lips
around the sharply jutting bone before his tongue appears, swiping a slow, reverent path up the
most noticeable vein. He traces its flowing pattern, pausing occasionally when he reaches a
knobbier section where others intersect with its progress, using his teeth to nip in lightly, teasingly,
worshipfully.

Sirius reaches his shoulder, using his tongue and lips to detail the muscles and bones, taking extra
care in the subtle dip, and moves his mouth along the base of Remus' neck before he finally
twitches. Sirius smiles at the small movement, nuzzling into the soft, warm skin, his tongue
flicking over the man's stuttering pulse point for a moment before sucking the flesh between his
teeth, rolling it around.

Remus releases a small grunt in mostly sleep-filled acknowledgement of the action, Sirius
watching as his face scrunches up briefly before relaxing again. His mouth releases the skin
between his teeth and moves steadily higher over the line of the other man's neck, marking a path
like leaving breadcrumbs as he goes, stopping when he arrives at the sensitive section of flesh just
under Remus' ear. The man shifts his head, rubbing his nose against his arm as Sirius moves before
falling still again, but a moan of approval sounds from him as Sirius lavishes attention under his
earlobe and moves on to his jaw, the rough hair there catching and snagging on his lips in a
wonderful way.

Sirius shifts a little so that he's positioned better over Remus as he reaches the man's chin and then
glides down the center of his throat to his collarbone and then chest. Remus begins to respond
more and more the lower Sirius drops, a sharp, sudden breath sounding as he sucks air through his
teeth when Sirius takes one of his nipples into his mouth. Sirius watches him with every stroke of
his tongue and graze of teeth over pale skin. Remus' eyes are still closed, having not opened once
since Sirius had started his explorations. He remembers the man telling him once that he's resistant
to mornings and slow to rise, going so far as to prove it now, like he's trying to pretend he's still
asleep as though he'll be able to drift back off easily once Sirius is finished with him.

His hands ghost over the man's sides, finding faint freckles he's never noticed before, being certain
to show them the appropriate amount of attention for how much he relishes them. Remus finally
releases a low moan as the soft kisses and gentle ministrations drift further down still, Sirius
shifting the sheet out of his way so that he can rain reverence onto Remus' hipbone. His hips rock
up a little as Sirius' hair tickles over his half-hard cock, the shaft twitching in interest.

"Mm," hums Sirius as he follows the line of bone until his mouth is nestled in the crease where
thigh meets hip. "You weren't lying. You really don't like waking up, do you? But I like you like
this, all pliant and jellied."

Remus breathes out contentedly, but then his eyes are flying open, wide and fixed on Sirius
hovering over his legs with a slow spreading smile as he stares back at Remus. He looks a little
shocked, slightly wobbly, like he's been knocked round the head and is trying to regain his bearings
on life and everything within it.

"Thought I was dreaming," mumbles Remus as his eyes slowly soften, face relaxing a little, though
he still looks mildly startled and amazed.

Sirius hums again, the sound thoughtful as he continues to meet Remus' gaze, considering him.
"So, if this was a dream, I'd probably do this, then, wouldn't I?" The other man's eyebrows knit
together in bemusement, his lips parting to question Sirius' words, but Sirius gives him no chance to
speak as his smile broadens and he lowers his head, taking Remus' cock into his mouth in one go,
their eyes still firmly locked.

Remus gasps out a forceful gust of air, his own mouth falling open wider, back arching from the
mattress as wet heat engulfs him. His fingers ball up the bedsheets in his grip, his body going rigid,
legs flexing around Sirius, head falling back a little though he doesn't stop meeting Sirius' grey
eyes.

Sirius makes good work of him, holding his hips in place as he makes certain to lather every single
bit of flesh with attention, never moving his gaze away from Remus' face. The other man twitches
beneath him, nearly continuous gasps and small, encouraging moans falling from between his lips.
His hand eventually settles in Sirius' hair, not holding him down, but simply holding, providing
almost gentle tugs of approval as Sirius' tongue swirls and flicks over him and he sucks and hums
and moans until Remus is giving a more insistent pull to his hair in warning.

"Almost. I'm going to…fuck, right there. Sirius," he pants out, eyes wide as he stares down.

Sirius smiles around the shaft filling his mouth, pushing his head back down in answer, hollowing
his cheeks again as he does. Remus releases a choking noise from the back of his throat right
before he spills down the back of Sirius' own throat. He swallows him down readily, greedily,
slowly lifting back up once he's done, making sure to lick Remus clean, not leaving anything
behind.

Remus' eyes have finally fallen closed as he lays sprawled over the bed, sated and spent. Sirius
laughs lightly as he leaves slow kisses all the way up the man's abdomen and chest until he reaches
his mouth, covering it with own, tongue pushing between lips, letting Remus taste himself. He
moans again against Sirius, responding lazily to the kiss until Sirius finally pulls away and settles
back down beside him.

"Morning," he greets when Remus eventually reopens his eyes and rolls to face him.

Remus' mouth works for a solid minute as he only blinks back at Sirius. "I was…not expecting
that," he finally mumbles, voice still heavy from sleep and thick with sex. "Though, to be fair, I
wasn't ever really expecting you, either."

Sirius' grin blossoms over his face before he can stop it, not that he would have. But it falters a
little when Remus wraps his hand around the back of his neck and leans forward, kissing him
again, more softly this time, lingering and savoring. Sirius hums, low and long, into it, pressing
himself closer against the other man and his wonderful, always present warmth.

When Remus finally separates from the kiss, he bumps his nose into Sirius', smiling at him. "Good
morning," he returns, and Sirius barks out a laugh, Remus' eyes lighting up at the sound. "I really
love it when you do that. I've no idea why, but I catch myself trying to make you laugh just so it'll
happen sometimes."

"S'pose I'll just have to do it more often, won't I?" says Sirius with a smile, ducking in to snag
another hard-won kiss.

They lay there for a while, hands and mouths exploring lazily, languidly, shifting and moving over
bare skin and bone and ridges of muscles, searching out sensitive spots, ticklish places, areas that
makes the other gasp in a delightful, dizzying way. Remus ends up half on top of Sirius, fingers
wrapping gently around his neck and filtering into the hair at its nape, tugging a little, pulling small
moans from Sirius. His own hands are raking up Remus' spine, setting off cascades of gooseflesh
beneath his touch, Sirius just beginning to think this might be leading to something even better,
when Remus' phone begins to chime insistently from the small table beside the bed. Remus groans
into his mouth in displeasure before pulling away reluctantly.

"Fuck," he mutters before looking at Sirius apologetically and with far too much dismay. "Sorry.
Might be important."

Sirius chuckles, teeth nipping at the other man's lip near the corner of his mouth before he releases
him and allows Remus to shift away. He sits up, grabbing his phone from the table and stares at the
screen for a moment, seeming to hesitate as he glances over at Sirius before finally answering it
and pressing it to his ear.

"Hiya, Pete," greets Remus. He's quiet for a while as he listens, Sirius just barely able to make out
Peter's voice sounding from the speakers, too low to understand what he's saying. "I – yeah, I'm
surprised I'm awake, too." Another brief pause. "No, I just had some things to do." Sirius snorts and
Remus swats at his thigh, silently telling him to hush, though he sees the man's lips quirk up in
amusement. "Don't think I'll have the time today, mate. I've got to go back to the office and
disinfect everything. And no, before you say it, you don't have to help. I'll be fine on my own."

Remus falls silent again for a longer stretch of time. His upturned mouth slowly falls into a small
frown, his eyes shifting back to Sirius a little but not quite settling on him, causing Sirius to frown
as well.

"Yeah, he did, she's right," the man says eventually. "He was…he was fine, Peter. Listen, can we
talk about this later. I'd rather not right now." Remus pauses again, listening intently, nodding a
little as he does. "I'm sure Sirius would greatly appreciate 'Merta's concern. And yes, Pete, I'll tell
him when I see him."

Sirius lays still as Remus finishes his conversation, watching his face shift through several
emotions. When he disconnects the call and sets the phone back on the table, Remus turns back to
look down at Sirius, some of his earlier lightness gone.

"Pete all right?" asks Sirius carefully, skirting around some of the words he'd overheard.

Remus nods, a small smile pulling at his mouth that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes. Emmeline
is spending the day with her sister, so poor Peter is left out in the cold," responds Remus, leaning
his shoulder against the wall behind them as he continues to stare at Sirius with an unreadable gaze.
"He wanted me to come watch a match with him, but that's probably something I'd least like to
spend my time doing right now."

Remus' hand lifts, fingers running back through Sirius' hair easily. Sirius' eyes drift closed as he
chews over the rest of the one-sided conversation he'd heard. When he looks back up at Remus,
he's frowning a little again.

"Rosmerta told him I was there last night," he states, leaving the question out of it.

Remus studies him for a brief moment before releasing a sigh. "She did," he confirms. "She's
worried about you. So is Peter. He said to tell you that he knows you have your family, and me, but
if you ever want another ear to listen, he's always around."

"Peter's good people," says Sirius fondly, his frown turning into a small smile.

"Peter is the best of people," counters Remus automatically. "I'm not sure where I'd be or what I'd
do without him."

Sirius hums knowingly. "He's your James."

"He's my James, yes," agrees Remus with a chuckle before he leans down and pulls Sirius into
another glorious, warmth-spreading kiss. Sirius' entire body sings with it, nerves twitching in
response under his skin, like they're trying to escape and meld with the other man's. He nearly
whimpers when Remus pulls away and sighs again, his eyes shifting over Sirius almost solemnly.
"We should…probably talk about this."

And Sirius knows that no matter how much he wants to pull the man down and ignore all the
outside factors at play against them, Remus is right. They'd put it off for a while, had some fun,
some bouts of exploration, some time to simply sit with it and be whatever they were together. But
in the light of a new day, with Remus' phone already ringing in with the outside world and Sirius'
off but probably still exploding with messages and voicemails left silent for now, he knows they
can't continue to ignore the importance of sifting through it all like searching sand for tiny shells
and bits of precious metal.

"Yeah," he hears himself agreeing.

But Remus' smile suddenly returns, brighter than the sun filtering through the window and pouring
over them and the bed. "I think breakfast should come first, though, don't you?" he asks, and Sirius'
stomach rumbles in answer, pulling a laugh from the other man, his brown eyes glinting
beautifully. "I'll take that as a yes. I'll run round the corner to the shop. I don't have much in. Fair
warning, I rarely have much in."

He shifts off the bed then, standing and stretching, Sirius watching rapturously as his skin moves
over those deceptively hidden muscles in his back. His eyes trail Remus across the room as the
man pads around, searching out clothing, pulling on a loose-fitting pair of jeans and an overly
faded shirt, looking the picture of comfort, tousled hair and all.

Sirius begins to roll from the bed as well as he says, "Give me a minute and I'll come with." But
Remus stops him, standing at the end of the bed, his eyes raking over Sirius, the sheets now
pooling around his hips, one leg sticking out from beneath them.

"No, don't," says Remus, holding up his hand in a freezing motion, almost pleading. "Just…stay
there, please." His gaze drifts again before settling on Sirius' face, another smile pulling at his lips.
"You're bloody perfect just as you are right there. Please don't even think about moving."

Sirius pauses before settling back down in the bed, smirking up at the other man. Remus huffs out
a breath of air, shaking his head a little as he rounds the corner and comes up beside Sirius, his
hand dropping to the side of his face, fingers grazing gently before he leans down and kisses him
again.

"You're going to be my ruin, Sirius Black," he voices, and then he's gone, disappearing from the
bedroom, leaving Sirius alone and yearning.

Sirius stares at the open door for a long while before he does eventually push himself up into a
sitting position, bending forward over his legs to stretch out his back, spine curving and cracking
deliciously. As he rolls his head around on his neck, savoring the pops that sound from it as well,
he reaches to the table on his side and grabs his own phone, switching it back on. Sirius tosses it to
the sheets between his legs and waits for it to power up. When he sees the lock screen light up,
Harry's face and toothless grin gazing back at him, he waits a little longer, knowing and expecting.

Sure enough, less than twenty seconds later, his phone is being flooded with a jumble of alerts,
signaling texts, voicemails, emails, app notifications. Sirius blinks at it as they keep coming, his
phone seeming to have a mild attack between his knees as it vibrates, the chirps and chimes
running together, half of them not even sounding under the onslaught. Heaving a weary sigh, Sirius
finally picks it up once it calms, unlocks it, and starts with the texts.

(20:13)

Prongs in a bottle: Where are you?

(20: 22)

Prongs in a bottle: Why did you leave?

Prongs in a bottle: Are you okay?

(20:36)

Prongs in a bottle: Pads?

(20:42)

Prongs in a bottle: Padfoot

(20:44)

Prongs in a bottle: Sirius for fuck's sake answer me!

(20:53)

Prongs in a bottle: i'm ringing you

(20:55)

Prongs in a bottle: you did NOT turn off your mobile you twat

Prongs in a bottle: What is wrong with you??? I'm losing my bloody mind and you've got your
phone off????????

(21:04)

Prongs in a bottle: where the fuck are you!

(21:32)

Queen Lilette of Pottershire: Sirius, I'm sorry. James is having a conniption. He came home and
found out I'd let you leave without finding out where you were going and he's going mental. He's so
worried, love. We both are. Please just answer your phone. We only want to know you're
somewhere safe.

Queen Lilette of Pottershire: Are you with Remus? I tried ringing him but he's not answering. I'm
not sure what to think. I know you said you weren't going to do anything, Sirius, but I'm really
worried now. I don't understand why your phone would be off.

(22:11)

Prongs in a bottle: fuck this i'm going to look for you

(1:47)

Prongs in a bottle: Where ARE you??

(3:24)

Prongs in a bottle: Sirius please. I don't know what to do

Guilt washes over Sirius like thick, heavy gravy, pulling him down as he scrolls through more and
more message and listens to increasingly desperate voicemails from James and Lily. He finds more
texts from Frank and Benjy, even a couple from Alice and a few of his other teammates he remains
on good terms with. They're all coated with layers of concern, some worse than others.

Exhaling a tremulous breath, Sirius scrolls through his list of contacts, locating James' name and
pressing down on his number. He lifts the phone to his ear and listens to the annoying rattling
through the speakers as it rings once before it stops and his friend's frantic voice is soaring over
him.

"Sirius!"

Sirius swallows. "Prongs," he says, hoping the nickname will soothe, but he's unsuccessful.

There's a pause, the silence heavy and damning and accusing. "You must be joking," comes James'
voice finally, hard and sharp, edged with barbs that slice in easily. "You turn your phone off all
night and then ring me at half nine in the morning like everything's normal."

Sirius winces. "I told you both I was fine," he attempts, but his own voice and excuse is weak even
to his own ears.

"And then you turned your phone off!" rages James, and he's terrified, Sirius can hear it in his
furious words. "For fuck's sake, Sirius! I come home and Lily tells me you took off on your bike,
that you couldn't be here. No explanation as to where you were going, when you were coming
back, if you were coming back. I nearly lost my mind. And then you send one text with two words
in it and disappear from the face of the earth again like that's supposed to appease us? I was out
half the bloody night searching for you!"

"I – I'm sorry," whispers Sirius. "I just – James, I couldn't deal. I couldn't process. I had to go, but
I'm sorry. I went about it the wrong way."

"You're fucking right you did!" exclaims James, but he seems to be calming a bit from his fury,
everything settling down into fear. "Lily told me what happened, Pads, and I get it, but fucking
hell, mate. You can't scare me like this. You can't. I had no idea what – " He stops, and Sirius
hears him inhale a shaking breath. "Where the hell are you?"

Sirius hesitates for a moment, glancing around the bedroom, his eyes settling on the print hanging
on the wall beside the bed. "I went to see Remus," he finally answers. "I'm with Remus, James."

There's another heavy pause, like James is connecting pieces to a puzzle that Sirius is giving him
little by little. "Oh," he mumbles eventually. Uncertainty lingers in the air and the spaces between
them. "You –?"

"Yeah."

"Are – are you all right?"

"'Course, yeah. I'm – "

"Don't you dare say fine," interrupts James bitingly.

"James…"

"Sirius." His name is firm and weighted rolling off James' tongue, but he exhales a weary sigh after
that as he says rhetorically, "S'pose he can't answer his phone either, can he?" Sirius winces again,
remembering Lily's increasingly worried messages as James falls into silence again for a spell. "I
feel like there's a lot of things I could say right now about this situation."

"Please don't," begs Sirius. "Please, James, just…not right now, yeah?"

"I think I should," he responds, though Sirius hears the reluctance in his tone, "but I'll wait. But,
Sirius, you can't do this again. Run off when you're as upset as Lily said you were. As upset as I
know you were. I know you, remember? I know how your head works. You get reckless, you stop
seeing things for what they are. And I know you trust Remus. So do I, mate, to an extent, but…
running off without telling us where you're going, turning your phone off…anything could have
happened, Sirius. We never would have known. You wouldn't have been able to easily contact us if
it did. You're smarter than that, I know you are. You know you are. You cannot do that."

"I wouldn't have even considered it if I hadn't known I was safe, James," says Sirius thickly.
"Remus isn't going to do anything."

There's a lingering hesitancy coming from the speakers pressed to Sirius' ear before James says
softly, "You mean the way you thought Gideon wasn't going to do anything?"

Sirius' breath stutters to a grinding halt in his chest as claws dig their way up his throat, slicing in
and drawing blood and acid that drains down, filling his stomach sickeningly. His veins turn to ice,
and suddenly, he's no longer sitting within the warm confines of Remus' bed, but instead against
the wall of the shower room, cold tiles pressing into his skin, elbows and hands pinning him in
place. There are fingers digging roughly into his flesh, a gruff, threatening voice in his ears, hot
breath flooding his face.

He squeezes his eyes closed, but that only makes Gideon's sneering expression more clear in his
mind, like he's right there in front of Sirius again, so he snaps them back open. He no longer feels
safe and secure as he had the entirety of the night before and this morning upon waking. Sirius is
alone, he realizes now, like it's a new thing, something that hadn't existed before James' reminder.
He's alone in a mostly unknown place with nothing familiar to anchor him down, keep him rooted
where he sits, feeling like he might drift off to somewhere unreachable.

His gaze darts around frantically as he begins to panic, his chest heaving a little, hands shaking,
muscles in his legs spasming at random intervals. Sirius is becoming trapped in it all over again
and he desperately needs something to pull him back out, but he's drifting further and further away
with every passing second, finding nothing to use as a tether until his eyes finally land on the
artwork beside the bed, its greywash and streaking colors slowly steadying him a little. Sirius stares
at it, fixes his mind on it, tries desperately to flood everything else away, stemmy the flow of
horrible thoughts with more positive things, like chocolate biscuits under a grey sky or on a
surprisingly sunny day, shopping with Remus when their plans had failed and altered, timid lips in
an alleyway under the pouring rain.

James seems to sense the shift in Sirius, because he eventually says, "I'm sorry. Sirius, I'm sorry,
but it – it needed to be said. I don't want to see you hurt again, not in any way, but especially like…
that. Never again." He heaves another long sigh, like he's steeling himself for his next words.
"Padfoot, I'm trying. I'm trying so hard, please know that. We both are, Lily and me. And I know
Remus has helped you so much. More than I ever expected, and I'm thankful for that and for him, I
really am. It scares me sometimes – most of the time, actually – thinking about where you'd be
right now without him.
"But as true as that all is," he continues, building to something that Sirius can tell he doesn't want to
hear, "I think it's time, Sirius. I think you need to talk about it, more than you have so far. I think
you need to let it out before you can start to let it go and move past it. I'm here, if you want it to be
me. I'm always here. So is Lily. And it seems like Remus is, too. But if you can't do that, if none of
us are enough, we'll find you someone, Pads. You just have to tell me what you need, and I'll do it,
whatever that is. But you have to start talking about it, otherwise I'm terrified you're going to be
stuck in it forever."

Sirius doesn't want to talk about it, none of it. He doesn't want to keep drudging it back up to the
surface every time he turns around. He wants it all to go away, like it never happened, like it hasn't
turned him into a completely different person. Sirius knows that's not reasonable, knows that's not
the way these sorts of things work, but his mind has clamped down, his tongue cementing to the
roof of his mouth every time he's tried to put voice to words, save only for the small bits he's given
Remus. But even those had come from a place of fear, not longing to release it.

"Sirius – "

"I need to go, James," says Sirius, voice emotionless as he continues to stare at the print on the
wall, trying to keep his mind calm of the raging storm brewing quickly and churning inside him.

"What? Sirius, don't – " James stops suddenly, and Sirius hears his friend inhale a shuddering,
nervous breath. "When are you coming home?"

"Dunno. When I want."

"Sirius – " James tries again, but Sirius stops him, doesn't want to hear anymore.

"James." His friend's name emerges in a bite, a near growl of anger and loathing and torment. "I
need to go. I'll be home when I'm home. I'm fine."

James is quiet for a handful of seconds before Sirius hears him sigh again, weighted and weary.
"All right," he finally says, sounding defeated and maybe a little broken himself. "All right. Just…
Padfoot, keep your phone on this time. Please. That's all I'm asking right now. Just keep your
phone turned on." Sirius only grunts, but he supposes James takes it as some form of agreement.
"I'll see you…soon." The words are hesitant, filled with uncertainty, but Sirius can't focus on them
now, doesn't want to hear them for what they are.

A beeping sounds through his ear, signaling James is finally gone, and Sirius drops his phone to
the bed again. He stares down at it without really seeing it until the screen lights up again, a banner
displaying a new message.

(9:39)

Queen Lilette of Pottershire: I'm sorry, Sirius. He's not trying to force you into anything. He's only
worried about you. We both are. Stay safe. We love you, sweetheart.

Sirius squeezes his eyes closed, reaching down for the object with blind fingers. He doesn't turn it
off again, but he does lower the volume until it will remain silent, alerting him to nothing until he
chooses to look at it. He drops it on the table and turns his back on it as he shifts down, rolling to
his side and curling in on himself, eyes fixing on the print over the bed again.

He has no idea how long he lays there trapped within a too small cage, his mind trying to drift
away from the clawing hands gripping him so tightly but barred in and contained inside it with no
escape. Sirius knows James had only been trying to help, had offered him a key but Sirius had been
unable to grab it and hold on. He'd lost it, slipping through his fingers and falling between metal
grates in the floor, just out of reach. He's not sure how to get it back without breaking off more
pieces of himself to fit between the slats.

"All right, so I didn't go to the shop," says Remus suddenly as he reenters the room, loud in the
crushing silence that's been surrounding Sirius, "but there's this bakery just next door of it that was
offering their Eccles cakes this morning, and I couldn't – Sirius?"

Remus pauses at the end of the bed as he spies Sirius' positioning, the small white paper bag he's
holding in his hand now forgotten. Sirius isn't certain what sort of expression is filling his face but
based on Remus' reaction upon leaning forward and seeing, he's guessing it isn't good. The other
man is moving again, rounding the bed in two quick strides, depositing the bag carelessly on his
side table, and then he's dropping down to the mattress, back resting against the wall behind him as
he shifts closer, curling his legs up along Sirius' front.

Sirius presses his face into the man's hip as his warmth settles back around him, his arm wrapping
around and fingers clutching into his side. He releases a shuddering breath of air and closes his
eyes. Sirius can sense Remus' hand approaching slowly before it carefully connects with the skin of
his cheek, touch gentle and tender, spreading back, fingers threading caringly through his long hair,
smoothing over his scalp.

"Okay. It's all right. You're okay," assures Remus softly. "You're safe. You're always safe here,
Sirius."

Sirius pushes more firmly against the other man, fingers holding tightly. Remus continues his
calming motions over his head, murmuring quiet, soothing words between small bouts of silence.
Sirius clings like Remus might disappear if he doesn't, listening to the words but not really
processing them, sinking deeper within himself even as he presses further into the other man's
warmth and touch and caring attentions.

Sirius once again loses all sense of time passing, still feeling caught, locked somewhere between
good and terrible, but knows silence has existed around them for a long time. Eventually, Remus
clears his throat, just a small sound, barely audible, but then he begins to hum softly, filling the
space around them with the soothing cadence. Sirius recognizes the song almost instantly, and his
tense muscles slowly begin to relax. But Remus doesn't stop with his humming, finally beginning
to sing, voice low, rising and falling perfectly, calming the last of the storm raging fiercely inside
Sirius.

"When you're a lost cause. When you are so far gone. When you are aching, tired and waiting.
When you are sinking, going down like a stone, nothing comes easy. Nothing comes easy…"
Remus sings and then he hums a little more, following the tune of the song perfectly, his fingers
still rubbing over Sirius' scalp with steady, tender movements. "I'll be the lamplight. I'll be the first
in line, kick out the waste of losers and fakers. I'll be the one to see through the blackest hours.
Nights in the darkness. All the nights in the darkness."

Remus leans his head down, pressing his lips to Sirius' hair, his voice dropping lower, nearing a
whisper, sounding more like a promise than him still singing. "When you are shaded. When you
are fading out, I'll be the lamplight. Nights in the darkness."

Sirius draws in a shaking breath as Remus finishes, falling quiet above him but not moving away.
His hand drifts to the back of Sirius' neck, fingers rubbing small circles over his skin, not stilling
even as Sirius finally tilts his head back to look up at him.

"I got lost," he whispers, his own voice refusing to contain anymore volume.
Remus nods knowingly, in understanding, fingers still tracing circles over his skin. "That's okay,"
he assures. "There's nothing wrong with getting lost sometimes, Sirius."

Sirius frowns a little, shaking his head slightly but not enough to jostle Remus' hand away. "How
are you so perfect?" he asks. Remus doesn't answer, his eyes creasing a little in the corners as they
narrow down at the question. Sirius heaves a weary sigh, his head falling back to Remus' hip.
"James wants me to talk about it with someone. Says it's time. He thinks I'm going to get stuck in it
forever."

Remus remains silent, movements still going over his neck and back. Sirius can feel his steady
breathing even through his hip, can hear the even tempo of his heart, and it lulls him a little more.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" he finally says quietly.

Sirius squeezes his eyes closed as the memories resurface again. He shakes his head in denial,
suddenly unable to speak, his throat feeling thick and constricted again.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you I don't agree with James, Sirius, because that's not fair to
you," murmurs Remus gently. "You know I think mostly the same. With that being said, no one is
ever going to force it out of you. Healing happens at your own pace, not someone else's. You'll
know when you're ready. I don't think you'll be stuck forever. I just think it's going to take its time
to work its way out."

They stay there in silence for a while longer before Sirius finally sighs and shifts away, pushing
himself up so that he's sitting. His back rests against the wall behind him as he presses his side into
Remus' just a little, just enough to really feel his warmth beside him. Sirius glances around the
room, taming his thoughts down to something more manageable before he finally looks at the
other man.

"You said something about Eccles cakes," he says, attempting to guide the subject away from him
and everything still trying to crush him back down.

A smile spreads across Remus' face as he twists around, grabbing the white bag he'd deposited
earlier. He holds it up and shakes it gently. "Little drops of bliss, you mean," he counters, and
Sirius loves the way his face begins to glow just a little, the easy way his features shift from
concern to almost pure delight.

It eases Sirius the remainder of the way, his own mouth forming into a soft smile. He leans
sideways, wrapping a hand around the back of Remus' neck and pulls him into a kiss, lips gentle,
not leading but simply there, almost thankful. Remus blinks at him for a few seconds when Sirius
finally shifts away, the man's hands having paused midway through opening the bag.

"I still have to get used to that," mumbles Remus, his eyes fixed on Sirius' face. "Just…being able
to kiss you, touch you."

Sirius' fingers drift up and down the side of Remus' neck where his hand still rests as his smile
broadens a little. "Well," he says, "there's only one logical way to do that, you know. And it's such
a simple thing, really."

Remus chuckles and leans in himself, pressing their mouths together again chastely before he pulls
back. Sirius sees a faint tinge of pink creeping up his cheeks as the man clears his throat and looks
back down at the bag, his hands returning to the process of opening it.

"This bakery is brilliant," says Remus as he digs in and pulls out one of the sugar-dusted cakes.
"Best I've found around here. It's where those biscuits came from that I left on your front step."

Sirius' eyebrows lift a little as he glances down at the bag and realizes that it does look familiar,
though he misses Remus' scrawling writing down the front of it. Remus offers him the cake and
Sirius takes it, biting into the crumbling, flaky pastry, the sweet but tart taste of currants coating his
tongue delightfully. He hums in appreciation, only noticing after he swallows that Remus has been
watching him rapturously.

Remus blinks as Sirius' eyes focus in on him again, seeming to finally realize what he's been doing.
He turns to his own cake, the flush on his cheeks deepening as his teeth sink into the dough.

"It's really unfair just how spectacularly gorgeous you are," he mutters around the pastry in his
mouth, glancing at Sirius from the corner of his eye.

"Says the Greek fucking god sitting next to me," counters Sirius, continuing with his own cake.

Remus huffs out a small laugh. "I thought that was just in reference to my work. I'm not sure where
you're getting that from. I'm rather odd looking, all things considered. Too tall, too lanky, horrible
fucking hair," he says casually, and Sirius fairly balks at every nearly degrading comment about
his physical appearance. "But even if you were right, even if I am a – a Greek god or what have
you, it's still no comparison to you. There's nothing in existence to compare you to, like some sort
of mythical creature that's all but gone extinct and you're the only one still thriving."

Sirius clears his throat, feeling a little awkward from Remus' words. He knows he's attractive.
Sirius has played into it nearly all his life, sometimes going so far as to use it to get what he wants,
his face and body accompanying the charm he'd perfected at a young age and combining with his
flirtatious nature he'd carefully cultivated. But he still sometimes shrinks under the scrutiny and the
compliments, mostly from people he knows. It feels different to the shrieking, faceless people that
have fawned over him since he was eighteen and joined the Association. Those are more easily
faded to the background, becoming a part of his life he simply has to deal with. But to hear the
words said quietly, reverently, from the mouth of someone so important to him hits differently,
more solidly, quaking through him and rattling his bones.

"You're ridiculous," says Sirius fondly, watching the side of Remus' face. "Even James said you
were sexy, and that's a high compliment coming from him. Prongs doesn't notice much beyond Lily
anymore. And the god thing is in reference to everything. It's become a common name around the
pitch. It's how Frank and Benjy refer to you now and have done for months. My physio god."

"Yours," murmurs Remus, more to himself than to Sirius even as he turns to look at him fully,
something warm flickering through his brown eyes before he seems to come back to himself. "I'll
not deny the physio part. I know that's where I thrive. I can mend almost any injury if I set my
mind to it," he continues, and somehow, he still doesn't sound boastful to Sirius, simply accepting
and acknowledging of what Sirius views as a remarkable talent and gift. But as Sirius finishes up
his cake and licks the sticky sugar that remains on his fingertips away, Remus sighs. "We really
should talk about this now."

Sirius pauses in his actions for a moment, glancing back at Remus, considering him. Finally, he
nods, sucking on the pad of his thumb slowly until the sweetness is gone, Remus watching him
closely. Sirius drops his hand down to his lap as he shifts a bit, his back creeping down the wall a
little as he pulls his knees up under the sheets, spreading them out a bit until he's lounging in a
slumped position and more comfortable.

"Yeah, all right," he agrees once he's settled. Remus' eyes rove over him before they roll up and fix
on the ceiling.
"Christ on a toastie," he mutters. "Someone help me." Sirius smirks up at him but remains quiet,
waiting. Remus finally glances back down at him and shakes his head a little, his mouth quirking
up into a faint smile. "Right, yes. Serious stuff now. Fuck."

Sirius throws his head back and barks out a laugh, pulling one from Remus as well even as the man
grumbles to himself under his breath. "Of all the things your parents could have named you," he
utters in exasperation. "All right, enough. Really this time. I was thinking about it last night after
you fell asleep."

Sirius sobers quickly as Remus continues, pushing away the mirth. "You can't see someone else,
Sirius," he says firmly. "I know you think it doesn't matter at this point, but it does. You're healing
well, but I don't trust someone else not to somehow set you back again or mangle it all up to the
point that you'll never fully recover. It could happen." His eyes shift over Sirius' raised knee,
unmoving while the other sways a little beneath the covering sheet. "But I also can't continue to
treat you while we're doing…whatever this is."

There's a vague hint of question in Remus' tone, sparking one of Sirius' own in the back of his
mind. As Remus continues, Sirius thinks they should probably circle back to it later, because it
suddenly seems just as important as everything else.

"But I refuse to let you seek your treatment elsewhere, and I'm also firmly rooted against letting
you slip away from me, because I'm actually rather fond of you, if you can believe it," murmurs
Remus, his fingers lifting to graze along the line of Sirius' jaw, voice warm and affectionate. "So,
here's my proposal. When you're ready to return to physio, this – " His brown eyes look between
them pointedly. " – pauses during our scheduled sessions. We go back to how we have been since
the beginning. But before and after, we can do whatever we like."

Sirius hums as he considers it, tilting his head back, Remus' fingers dropping down to this neck as
their eyes meet. "Whatever we like, hmm? I like the sound of that. Maybe let you fuck me over
your desk next time," he says in a low rumble of a voice before he manages to steady himself back
out. "So, like a separation between work and play. I can do that, I think." Sirius' gaze drifts over
Remus for a moment before a small, half desperate sound emerges from his throat and he amends,
"I can try to do that. There's a large difference between holding back when I don't know and
holding back when I do know. I've never been a person that's good at restraint, Remus."

Remus' fingers slip down over his chest, splaying across a smattering of dark ink spreading over the
base of one side of Sirius' ribcage. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit," he defends,
fingertips tracing idly over the small lines and dots forming a constellation, nothing special about it
except the simple word Padfoot connecting two of the dots. "But we'll take it as it comes."

Sirius stares up at him, rolling his thoughts around in his head, trying to arrange them in a more
manageable order. "Do we have to hide it?" he finally asks uncertainly. He's not sure that's
something he wants to do, but he also has no idea where the lines exist now, not just muddled, but
nearly erased completely.

"Not…exactly," says Remus slowly, gnawing on his bottom lip. "I don't expect you to keep it from
James and Lily, or anyone that's important to you. Pete will know, he always does. It's more
Marlene and Rosmerta I'm worried about. I love them both, but they're…pushy. A lot to take
sometimes when it comes to things like this. They won't judge for it, but they'll make it incredibly
difficult to keep things divided where we need them to remain until you're fully healed."

Sirius looks down at his knee and sighs. "Yeah, all right," he finally says. "I can agree to that. I'm
not the happiest about it, but I understand what you're saying."
Remus smiles at him, seeming satisfied with the deal they've struck. His hand drifts down further,
searching out more ink stains on Sirius' skin, fingers exploring over them like it's something he's
been waiting to do for a long time. Sirius thinks that he probably has, knowing what he does now.

They fall into another silence for a while after that, Sirius resting his head back against the wall as
he enjoys the feeling of Remus' hand shifting over his torso, tracing lines that represent different
things. He nudges the sheet down lower, pooling it around his hips, Sirius watching him as his
fingers pause over a shape to the left and a little lower than his navel before they cautiously begin
to line its edges. It's a simple circle, most of its inner parts greyed out, only leaving a small crescent
at its side. It's one of the first tattoos Sirius had ever got shortly after he'd turned eighteen during
his Christmas holiday when he was in his last year of school. A moon for the boy that had been so
important to him for so many different reasons.

Sirius watches as Remus traces over it, an odd expression on his face that Sirius can't manage to
read. Something tickles at the back of his mind, but it slips away too quickly to grab, something
more insistent taking its place, resurfacing from earlier. Sirius clears his throat again, regaining
Remus' attention.

"What you said earlier," he hedges, "about what this is…what is this, Remus?"

Remus' palm flattens over the tattoo as he stares at Sirius, studying him. "What do you want it to
be?" he asks, his expression open, undemanding, simply waiting for whatever comes.

"I – " begins Sirius but he stops, not sure how to phrase what he wants to say. "What I want," he
starts again slowly, "I've never…it's not something I've ever really done before, Remus, not even
when I was in school. I tried a few times, mostly with girls until I finally figured things out, but
after that, no one was really important enough to stick for long. And after I joined the Association,
it just wasn't…practical.

"My whole life is under a microscope, Remus. All of it." Sirius looks up at the ceiling, unable to
meet Remus' eyes while he speaks. "It's not as bad as if I was some big-name celebrity, but people
still know who I am, they recognize my face often. The media digs through my life like they're
rifling through an overstuffed trunk, finding what they want, whatever is going to cause the most
damage. They've released things about my family shite, they've gone after James and Lily and
Harry, they've blasted my sexual encounters across their covers whenever they've caught on to
something that's firm enough to hold.

"It's not an easy thing to deal with. McGonagall has managed to kill a lot of the stories because
most times she can sniff them out like a dog with a meaty bone, but she can't squash them all. Rita
Skeeter is particularly hard to get one over on, I've realized. She doesn't relent, and she doesn't
spook easily. I've never wanted to expose anyone else to that sort of rapid fire and intrusion into
their life, not that I've ever found anyone worthwhile enough to consider it much until now. You'd
have a spotlight aimed on you the second any of them found out, so what I want isn't fair to you,
Remus."

Remus studies him for a long while, Sirius' stomach twisting dangerously the longer the silence
stretches between them. "What I'm hearing," he says finally, his words slow and pronounced, "is
that you want a relationship, but you're scared that what comes with it will scare me away. Is that
it? Because I have to say, Sirius, I don't much care about all that. I know who you are and what that
entails. It's not a surprise to me."

"I don't know how to do this, Remus," whispers Sirius, finally giving way to his true fear, letting it
out into the light for the other man to see. "I don't know the first thing about relationships except
what I've seen from Lily and James and James' parents. That's it. My own parents and aunts and
 uncles weren't exactly ideal role models for this sort of thing. I'm bound to fuck it up with my own
stupidity. You don't deserve that."

"No, stop," says Remus vehemently, both his hands cupping the sides of Sirius' face firmly. "That's
enough of that. Nothing about you or that you ever do is stupid. Just because you've never done
this before doesn't mean you're destined to muck it up. If this is what you want, we go at it together
or not at all. That's how this works. Me guiding you and you guiding me. When have I ever judged
you for anything? I haven't and I won't start now. But you are right about one thing, though only
part of it." A thumb brushes softly over his cheek as Sirius frowns up at Remus, disbelieving of his
words. "I don't deserve you, not one single, miraculous part. But I've got you now, and I'll be drawn
and quartered before I willingly let you go."

Sirius opens his mouth to protest, to tell him he's being ridiculous because he'll never be worth that
much, but Remus stops him with a pressing kiss. Sirius exhales a shaking breath into it, his fingers
clawing in the fabric of Remus' shirt, holding and clinging tightly.

"Stop doubting yourself," demands Remus, his brown eyes flashing. "There are so many more
better things that make you you other than the few faults you choose to pick out and hold above all
the rest. You're more than that, Sirius. So much more."

Remus gently urges him forward and Sirius goes willingly, falling against the other man's chest
and deflating like a balloon with a slow but quickly growing leak. Remus holds him close, his arms
wrapped around Sirius' back, hands rubbing up and down his skin, fingers skipping over the knobs
of his spine. His body and mind slowly relax under the careful touches, and he lets Remus keep his
grip on him until the man finally pulls away, slotting a finger under Sirius' chin to lift his head.

"There is no doubt in my mind that there's far more we need to discuss, and we will. We'll get
there, Sirius," he says certainly, tone assuring. "But are we finished for now?"

Sirius considers the other man's face for a few moments before he finally nods, his grip loosening
on Remus' shirt. There are stretching marks left behind in the fabric from how tightly he'd been
holding.

"Good," says Remus, the word clipped as he leans down and pecks a light kiss to Sirius' lips. Then
he's shifting, lifting himself to his knees, pushing Sirius' down, one leg swinging over until he's
straddling Sirius and gazing down at him almost smugly, Sirius automatically clutching around his
hips. His hands find the hem of his shirt and he pulls it over his head in one clean motion, tossing it
to the floor beside the bed, Sirius staring at him in awe. "There are a great number of places I've
been longing to explore for far too long and still have yet to do so. I plan on rectifying that now."

Remus shifts again, pushing himself lower, cautious of not trampling Sirius' knee with his
movements. Sirius inhales a sharp breath when the other man's mouth connects with the ink
imbedded over the base of his ribcage, his tongue tracing the lines, following the flowing path of
the word permanently marking Sirius' skin. Remus' fingers trail over the inside of Sirius' forearm
even as his mouth keeps working, touching on Harry's birthday doodle that Sirius had also made
permanent just before Christmas. Remus' lips never go near this one, respectful of what it means,
but Sirius watches as he slowly drifts lower until he lets his head fall back against the wall, his eyes
closing, Sirius allowing his other senses to overtake him.

Chapter End Notes

I promise things start to move forward again in the next chapter, but they had to have
some time to enjoy it and work things out a little, didn't they?
 Honeyed-Tea, Parties, & Overheard Conversations

Remus and Sirius spend their glorious weekend mostly confined within Remus' flat, only leaving
for food, Sirius finally convincing the other man to let him come with for their dinner on Saturday
night. They behave as they always have while out amongst other people, Sirius trying not to draw
much attention down upon them just yet from anyone who may recognize him, though he longs to
pin Remus up against every available surface and fights the urge with difficulty, especially when
he's provided with such chest-seizing smiles at every turn.

On Sunday afternoon, as they're lounging over Remus' sofa, backs tucked into respectful corners,
legs entangled in the middle, Remus finally broaches the subject of Sirius' meeting with
McGonagall. He mentions it casually with only a hint of wariness behind his words, not pushing,
not angling for an explanation as to whether that's the real reason Sirius had finally broken in his
resolve. It's his demeanor, and Remus himself, more than anything else that keeps Sirius from
freezing up.

It takes Sirius a while to build up to the words before telling Remus what had been said between
himself and his manager two days previously. He finally admits to the other man that it's Gideon
he has the history with, having never come out and said as much until now, leaving it ambiguous to
a simple teammate, and explaining that it's this that's the most hindering of it all. Sirius sits silently,
not meeting Remus' eyes, staring instead at his ear, waiting for the coming judgement.

He can see the other man's face shifting from his peripheral vision, and Remus looks angry,
furious, his expression resembling a growing fire ready to burn everything to the ground. Sirius
looks away completely, not wanting to see it because he can't deal with the crushing
disappointment that he knows is coming. He hadn't outright lied to Remus, but he'd skirted around
the truth, not wanting to admit to the fact that he'd started the whole thing from the beginning.

"They can't get away with that, none of them," says Remus eventually, his words clipped and harsh
in the air around them. It surprises Sirius, his head snapping back round as he stares at the other
man uncertainly. "They're treating this whole situation like it's nothing, like it can be brushed under
a rug with little effort. They can't be allowed to do that."

Sirius frowns deeply in confusion. That isn't the reaction he'd been expecting. "Did you…did you
hear what I said?" he asks in a small voice, struggling to force the words from his throat. "It's my
fault, Remus. I started it. I gave him the opening he needed. I cracked that door because it was easy
and convenient."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Remus nearly snaps, rage and hatred and sadness spiraling in
his eyes like a tornado.

Sirius winces and immediately looks down at his hands in his lap. He misses Remus' face
softening, misses the drooping of his shoulders, but he feels it when the man eases closer over the
sofa, steadily closing the distance between them. He maneuvers his way between Sirius' thighs,
wrapping his legs around his waist gently to keep him comfortable, his hand lifting to cup over
Sirius' scruffy, darkly shadowed jaw, easing his head back up to meet his eyes.

"Why does that matter, Sirius?" he asks softly once he's got Sirius' gaze fixed on him completely.
"You didn't do anything wrong. You were two consenting adults at the time. There's no shame in
that. But what he did…" Remus trails off, fury flashing in his eyes again briefly before it's gone
again. "You did not encourage it. It doesn't matter what you did before, you never asked for what
he did."
Sirius glances away from Remus' gaze, disbelief and doubt stabbing at him, raining down on him
like rapid fire. Remus doesn't accept it, nudging Sirius' face until their eyes meet again.

"Sirius," he says, the name firm and insistent on his tongue as Remus tries to make Sirius
understand, "that situation is no different than this one with what we're doing, other than the fact
that I hope there's more to ours. But if one day things shifted – something that will never happen, I
just want to be clear on that – and suddenly I…did or tried to do what he did, would that make it
your fault simply because we'd already been carrying on? Would it make it any less worse or
damning for you or me? Would that mean you'd encouraged it in any shape or form simply
because you'd wanted me and I decided to take advantage and twist it all around?"

Sirius' heart pounds in his chest as he stares back at Remus. He doesn't like the words being said,
doesn't want to think about that ever happening, not even the possibility of it, no more than he
wants to think about Gideon. But Remus is right, just as he always seems to be, and Sirius thinks
maybe it's time he accepts that. What happened isn't his fault. Sirius hadn't caused it, had never
encouraged such harsh actions. And he knows, just as he's known somewhere he's kept buried
since the incident, that based on Gideon's own words, it probably would have happened eventually
regardless of whether Sirius had never started things up with him in the first place.

"No," he says in a small voice, shaking his head. Remus smiles, just a little, his thumb ghosting
gently over Sirius' cheek.

"You're right. No," reinforces Remus. He studies Sirius' face with narrowed eyes, like he's
considering his next words incredibly carefully. His fingers stroke over Sirius' skin more, soothing
and calming as he says softly, "Did you tell him no?" Sirius' own eyes widen a little at the
question, at the memories, his breath stuttering a little and catching at the base of his throat, but he
nods silently. "Did you tell him to stop?" Another slight nod. "You did nothing wrong, Sirius.
Nothing. Don't ever think you did. This is his darkness. Don't make it yours as well."

Sirius stares at Remus' face, some sort of unidentifiable distress rising in him. He feels contained,
locked down and held in place, but also like he's been cracked open to the light of day, like some of
the tainted air is finally leaving him, taking its poison with it. He bows his head to rest on Remus'
shoulder, his arms wrapping around the other man loosely.

"I never thought he'd – " begins Sirius, but he chokes, everything sticking again.

"I know," says Remus in understanding, his own arms mirroring Sirius', pulling him close and
holding gently.

Sirius swallows around the thickness in his throat. "He was – was always a little darker around the
edges from the time he joined the team. There was something twisted in him, I knew that.
Everyone could see it. But he was still all right, mostly. We were never going to be best mates, or
mates at all, really, but I was fine with him. He just seemed headstrong, determined. He wanted
everyone to know his name, know how good he was, and I could respect most of that. I've never
cared about people knowing who I am, but the rest of it has always fit. He loved the game and so
did I, so I found ways to accept him for his personality. We all did.

"But he started getting rougher around the edges, more overbearing as we rose higher and higher
on the team's roster. He hated it when the crowds chanted my name. I could see it, like his entire
body was rippling with electricity, like a live wire ready to send a charge of destruction through
everything. But I still didn't – I never saw this coming."

Sirius' body shakes against Remus, though he desperately wants it to stop, wills it to do so, but he
can't seem to control it. Remus only shifts one of his hands over Sirius' back soothingly, his other
drifting up to cup the back of Sirius' dark head, fingers weaving through his hair easily, like it's
exactly where they belong. They scratch gently over his scalp, and Sirius slowly stills, his body
relaxing under the touch.

"Do you think you were meant to?" asks Remus softly. "Because you weren't, Sirius. He's your
teammate, and maybe he was never your friend, but he should have been someone you could trust
unconditionally. And I think…I think you did trust him. Not completely, but enough. He used that
against you. It still doesn't make any of it your fault."

Sirius turns his head a little and presses his face into the curve of Remus' neck. "I never trusted him
like I trust you," he whispers. "He'll never be you."

Remus doesn't say anything in response, only tightening his arms, holding Sirius more firmly
against him.

Later that night, Sirius checks his still muted phone as he lays beside Remus in the other man's
bed. He'd received a few messages over the passing two days checking on his wellbeing, mainly
from Lily, but his friends had left him mostly undisturbed. As the screen lights up, he spies a text
from James, informing Sirius that he would be staying home the following day if Sirius decided he
was ready to come back.

Sirius shows the message to Remus silently, the other man arching an eyebrow as he asks, "What
are you going to do?"

Sirius sighs heavily in answer. He clicks the display back off and stows the phone on the side table
once more, curling up against the other man, Remus' arms wrapping around him easily. Sirius drifts
to sleep as he makes a decision.

The following morning, the two men depart Remus' flat earlier than Remus normally would, Sirius
driving them to the office building long before anyone else shows up. Their incredibly early start
serves two purposes, the first being that Remus never had come to sanitize the equipment, having
been far too distracted by Sirius' presence to really care. The second, and more important, or so
Sirius thinks, is to avoid suspicion from Rosmerta, the woman always arriving an hour before the
office technically opens to sort things out ahead of time. Remus' car had remained in the car park
all weekend, and they know if Rosmerta showed up and found it abandoned, she'd instantly be
suspicious of its owner's whereabouts, never letting the subject drop until she gained her answer.

Sirius follows Remus inside to help the man complete his work faster before the woman arrives,
Remus offering him a grateful smile as they move about the Playroom with cleanser and flannels,
deeply disinfecting every surface. When they finish, Remus walks Sirius back up front, grabbing
his jacket from his office and handing it over, but he holds on for an extra second as Sirius tries to
take it. Sirius stares at him curiously, an odd, almost longing expression on the other man's face.

Remus huffs out a breath when he sees Sirius' questioning eyes, shaking his head a little. "I'm
being ridiculous," he says quietly, almost meekly, "but I feel like once you step out that door, it's
all going to end. I'll be waking up from this fantastic dream and none of it will have been real."

Sirius smiles, the expression soft. He releases his grip on the jacket and steps forward instead, his
hands wrapping around the back of Remus' neck, fingers winding into the waves of hair at its nape.
He pulls the man down into a gentle, lingering kiss, Remus humming against him appreciatively as
his arms wrap around Sirius' middle, hands clutching at his back, pressing them closer together.

"I know the feeling," murmurs Sirius, fingertips rubbing small circles across Remus' scalp, "but
this isn't a dream. You're real and so am I."
He kisses Remus again, a chaste thing, just a simple brush of lips, but a gesture that promises
bigger things to come, possibly an entire lifetime of tiny, almost meaningless things sprinkled with
larger moments. Sirius feels foolish for having such thoughts, but he can't seem to stop them.

"I'll ring you later," he promises, "and I'll be back here with you tomorrow."

Remus nods and they finally release one another, Sirius taking his jacket from Remus' relenting
fingers. He smiles at Remus over his shoulder before he reluctantly slips through the front door, his
heart hammering in his chest like an insistent drumbeat, determined to be heard and felt through
the quaking of his foundation.

When Sirius arrives home close to a half hour later, he stands outside on the step for a long while,
staring over the exterior of the house, taking in its soft cream-colored paint, the outwards curvature
of the upstairs windows, a place he knows Lily likes to sit with Harry nestled comfortably in her
lap. It's beautiful house, fitting of the beautiful people living within its walls. It's a home, warm and
inviting and always welcoming, like gentle arms reaching out after a too long, raggedly wearing
day. Which leaves Sirius wondering why he's hesitant to step inside now, though he knows the
answer already.

Sirius finds James within the sitting room when he finally enters and steps in from the hall after
slinging his jacket over a nearby hook. The man watches him silently as Sirius walks around and
settles down on the sofa, James rising without a word and disappearing into the kitchen. Sirius
frowns after him, the reaction not what he'd expected from his friend upon arriving home.

But James reemerges a few minutes later, carrying a steaming cup in his hands. He offers it to
Sirius with a subtle smile pulling at his lips. Sirius takes it, clutching his chilled hands around its
warmth as James seats himself back within the armchair, leaning forward over his legs, studying
Sirius through the lenses of his glasses that glint faintly from the light streaming through the large
windows. Sirius sips at the tea, blinking in surprise. Honey.

He looks back up at James, his expression softening, taking it for what it is. Not an apology,
because James doesn't think it's needed, and if Sirius is being honest, he doesn't think it is either.
It's a peace offering, a gesture of friendship and brotherhood; a promise that James is always there
to give Sirius whatever he needs, no matter how difficult it may be for either of them.

"Ta, mate," says Sirius quietly, gratefully. James' smile pulls a little wider over his face as he
reclines back into the chair. They're silent for a long while after that, Sirius drinking at his tea and
trying to sort through the thoughts in his head that seem to be so tangled now he doesn't know if
they'll ever make sense again, only getting more and more jumbled as time passes.

"So, I was right, then?" says James finally, his hazel eyes sweeping Sirius' face observingly,
expression open and only a few faint lines around his mouth showing any hint of underlying
wariness. "About Remus, I mean."

Sirius stares back at him for a silent moment, eyes narrowed, gauging his friend's intent before he
eventually relents. "I – yeah," he mumbles. "Yeah, you were right."

James nods slowly, seemingly accepting but hesitant. "I'm happy about that, Sirius." At Sirius'
skeptical look, James huffs out an annoyed breath. "I am, mate, but that doesn't mean I'm not still
worried. I'll always be worried. You've still got a lot of things to deal with, and I'm not going to sit
around and keep pretending like you don't, because I don't think it's helping you at this point. I
don't think it's helped you at all, if I'm being honest. We've been coddling you, that's not something
you can deny. I won't do it anymore, because all I want is for you to be happy, no matter what that
takes or what gets you there."
James leans forward again, forearms resting over his thighs, hands clasping between his knees.
Sirius swallows around the growing lump in his throat when he sees the earnest look in his friend's
eyes, knowing what's coming, ready for the push, but also not, his mind already building higher,
thicker walls around itself to guard against it.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Sirius," says James gently, and Sirius blinks at him in
surprise. "That's not what this is about. I don't want you to talk about it if you're truly not ready. I
know that won't help anything. But I also don't want you to not talk about it when you are ready
because you think there's no one willing to listen. That's just not true. We're here for you. We're
always here." James pauses, giving Sirius time to process his words as he inhales a deep, steadying
breath. "I don't know what's going on inside your head for once, and that bothers me a bit. I can't –
can't even begin to imagine how you feel. I've always been able to read you since we were kids.
I've always known where you stood, how your mentality was sitting, what you've needed,
sometimes even before you have. But now I don't. I don't know how far up or down you are. I can't
see it anymore, and that scares me, Sirius. It scares me more than you can possibly know.

"But because of that," continues James, squaring his shoulders a little more from their previous
slouch, his body language more demanding, telling Sirius he won't take no for an answer, and he'll
fight against it every step of the way if he has to, "because I can't see where you are anymore, I
need you to let me in a little more. Just a small amount. I'm worried, mate, and I know you don't
like that, so I need you to give me something – anything – so I don't have to do it as much. If you
need it, let me help you, however I can, even if it's just something simple like watching telly with
you or taking a day off work to be here when you need it most, when you can't face the world,
even with Remus. Don't go running off again without an explanation and don't ignore us. I can't
handle it, Sirius. I was nearly out of my mind, because I didn't know, not like I would have before. I
was fucking terrified. I was ready to call the authorities, send out a search party for you. I was livid,
could barely control my anger. Lily had to stop me from finding that wretched excuse of a
worthless human being and beating down his door – "

James stops abruptly as Sirius stiffens in front of him, his hazel eyes going wide as he realizes
what's he just said. Sirius suddenly feels incredibly small and weak, like everything he's ever been
before has dried up, leaving nothing but a fragile shell behind that's cracking more and more with
every passing second, being hit repeatedly by the faintest of pressures, just waiting for it all to
shatter into pieces as miniscule as grains of sand on the shore of a swallowing, greedy sea.

"I don't want that, James," he whispers, and his voice sounds weak, too, like it's already been
broken and can't be put right again no matter the tape and glue used to try to hold it together.

"I know," replies James, and Sirius sees the knot on his throat bob roughly as he swallows. "I
know, Pads. That's why I didn't. Lily calmed me down, mostly, but I stopped myself before I could
do it because I knew it wasn't what you would want. But it took everything, Sirius; everything I had
to not hunt him down and knock his teeth out of his skull. Because I'm so angry for you and hurt
for you. All I want to do is help, but I'm not sure how to do that anymore."

Sirius closes his and doesn't respond, because what can he say? He doesn't have an answer
anymore than James does, or anyone else seems to be able to provide. Maybe he is stuck. It's a
horrible thought, but it makes sense the longer he lingers on it.

"I won't run off again without saying where I'm going," says Sirius eventually, his voice thick.
"And I won't ignore you. I didn't intentionally do it this time. I was just…"

"Distracted and too busy finally getting what you've wanted for months?" supplies James, a
knowing glint in his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking up.
"Yeah," agrees Sirius, allowing a small smile to grace his own lips. "Yeah, exactly that, Prongs."

James nods slowly and he looks contemplative again, his gaze shifting around like he's pondering
what to say next. He finally settles back on Sirius, his brow furrowing a little, faint wrinkles
forming on his forehead and a crease appearing between his dark eyebrows.

"I have to ask, Padfoot," he says determinedly, but also with a hint of apology, "and I don't want to.
You know I don't, but I think…I think it's a necessary thing right now, because it happened so
fucking fast, I can't stop myself from being worried about it."

Sirius watches his friend as he begins to struggle with his words, steeling himself for what he
already seems to know is coming. He's expected it on some deeper level, because James is his best
friend, his brother. He cares about Sirius just as much as Sirius cares about him. They love each
other, through the good and the bad and everything in between. They only ever want the other to
feel safe and happy and to always know they're important to at least one other person in the world,
no matter what.

"You and Remus, you…" James' eyes flick away before meeting Sirius' again as he pushes a rough
hand back through his hair, causing it to stick up violently, like he's been electrocuted again.
"Look, Sirius," he starts over, more confident this time but also still fumbling, "I know we touched
on it over the phone, but also just barely, and I feel like bluntness is key here. You know,
communication and all that, least that's what Lily always says when I start prattling on about
something stupid. Not that this is stupid! It's not. It's not. Fuck."

He stops again, Sirius almost biting back laughter at his friend's inane, nervous babbling. Sirius
can't judge. He does the same thing, he knows. It's something they've always shared, but when one
of them is unable to articulate themselves, typically the other one can, explaining clearly what
seems to be so chaotic inside their friend's head. But Sirius stays silent this time, not wanting to put
words in James' mouth, not trying to rush him, simply watching as he works through it on his own,
gets to where he needs to be.

James heaves a steadying sigh and lets his hand fall back to his knees in near defeat, his shoulders
slumping again. "You had sex, you and Remus," he finally manages, and Sirius hears no
judgement in his voice, sees none of it in his eyes, just a sort of open questioning look as he stares
back at Sirius. "Right? That's what happened."

Sirius hesitates for a brief moment of time, though he's not really sure why. "Yes."

James bites at his bottom lip, gnawing on it almost anxiously, as though he's fighting against his
next question, trying to decide whether it's worth the reaction he may receive from asking. He
finally levels Sirius with a solemn expression, releasing the skin trapped between his teeth, and
Sirius only notices now that it's torn and shredded, chapped and cracked nearly beyond repair,
realizing that James has probably been doing that exact same thing a lot over the passing month or
so to leave it in such a wrecked state.

Sirius feels a wave of guilt wash over him, heavy and suffocating, but he pushes it back down, tries
to throw sandbags around the legs of his mind to block it out. It's not your fault, he tells himself,
repeating the words he'd finally admitted while with Remus. But another voice, a devilish, sinister
thing, whispers a little louder inside his head, echoing through his entire body, and Sirius feels
powerless to fight against it.

Maybe not, but the worry and distress and the pain you're causing by being yourself is entirely
your fault. You're making them hurt with you, pushing them away when all they want to do is help,
because you're selfish and nothing matters except what you want.
Sirius clamps down on it quickly, trying to ignore it. The voice sounds like his mother, which
should tell Sirius everything he truly needs to know. He just wishes the logical part of his brain
worked better in times like this. Sirius focuses back in on James, watching his friend's fidgeting
movements, waiting to listen to his voice instead.

"Did he – because if he did, I'll…I'll – I just need to know – fucking hell." James seems to give up
for a few seconds, letting his head drop and hang down in front of his chest. He finally looks back
up, his mouth twisted contritely, eyebrows pinched together regretfully. "Did he force it, Sirius?
Did he push it on you? Because I…I've heard enough to know how this works most times, the after
stages, and I've watched you. I've seen how you've reacted to things. Something isn't adding up for
me, mate. The maths are all wrong here, and I'm trying to put two and two together, but it's coming
up bollocksed."

Sirius releases a faint, nearly deprecating laugh. "You really need to learn more about Remus
Lupin, Prongs," he says, his tone reassuring, counteracting the effect of his laugh. "He didn't do
anything. If anyone pushed, it was me. Remus, he…" Sirius snorts out a rough breath of air through
his nose, flopping back against the sofa cushions, relaxing a little under the memories. James
watches him with considering eyes, studying his shifting body language, his facial expressions as
they alter through different emotions. "He made sure I was all right, James. He was kind. He cares.
He didn't force it. I honestly don't believe he ever would."

James continues to observe him for a long while, the two men sitting in silence, the only sound the
clock ticking over the fireplace on the mantelpiece. Eventually, his friend sucks in a deep breath
and says, "Okay."

Sirius blinks at him. "Okay?" he says in bemusement. "That's it? That's all you've got left?"

James finally laughs, his shoulders shaking sightly with it. "Yeah, it is." But he leans forward a
little more as he sobers, his head tilting to the side a bit. "Just…one more thing," he amends, his
eyes taking on a concerned edge again, though they're soft, his expression open and almost
knowing. "Are you all right?"

Sirius stares back at him for a moment, considering the question, though it's a pointless thing.
Sirius already knows the answer. "I am, yeah," he responds, a smile pulling back into place,
curving up into his cheeks easily. "I'll tell you if that changes, promise I will."

James seems to accept this without doubt, smiling back at Sirius before he claps his hands on his
knees, stands, and says, "Right. Had breakfast yet? Neither of us felt much like cooking this
weekend, so we ordered a fuckton of takeaway. Harry was thrilled. He got to have real pizza – his
words, not mine. Lily was mildly insulted, let me tell you. She thinks hers is far superior – do not
tell her I think differently, or I'll shove your mangy socks down your throat while you sleep – but
even with Harry's excitement, we've got heap of leftovers. No one devours those like you do. So,
c'mon, Pads. Showtime."

Sirius laughs as he stands and follows his friend into the kitchen, not caring that he'd already eaten
with Remus. What could be better than real leftover pizza at half eight on a Monday morning?

--------------------

It's nearly a fortnight later before Sirius finally caves and agrees to return to physio. He doesn't
readily admit it to anyone other than Remus, but it's less the fact that he feels ready and more that
his knee has began to give strange twinges periodically, going so far as to try to give out beneath
him at odd, random moments, something he hasn't been having an issue with until recently. Sirius
is worried about it, convinces himself that his time away from the daily work has caused him to
backslide, but Remus is quick to reassure him that all is probably fine. Muscles and joints are odd
things sometimes, the man explains patiently as his hand moves soothingly over Sirius' back as
they sit on his office sofa (cleaned and looking brand new, though Sirius knows the truth, the
knowledge sending an electrifying thrill through him whenever his eyes land on piece of furniture)
discussing his return.

So as March grows into April like the slow-spreading buds on the blooming trees, Remus and
Sirius restart their old routine. Remus takes it slow, easing Sirius back into it just as he'd eased him
through it initially in October. They work in the Playroom, Peter and Marlene all bright smiles,
though Marlene clearly tries to hide hers behind sarcastic, teasing comments thrown Sirius' way
from the other side of the room even as she practically begs Remus for a go at the dark-headed
man, a toothy, wolfish grin flashing in Sirius' direction from the eager woman.

They recommence their biweekly pool visits, something Sirius hadn't realized that he'd greatly
missed. While, despite his initial doubts, he's managed to remain mostly good on their agreement
for no acts that crossed the redrawn lines of friendship around their professional relationship, Sirius
finds himself struggling with it a little more during these times, Remus' exposed, wet skin posing
an increasingly insistent problem that always seems to urge Sirius into touch, touch now. He
discovers he's a bit helpless against it, but Remus seems to relent a little more during these private
times when there are no prying eyes nearby, though he always makes sure Sirius puts in the
required work before he caves along with him.

And while Sirius is now back into the day-to-day grind of therapy, his days haven't really changed
all that much. He remains in the building with Remus all day, keeping to their previously agreed
upon reasoning of Sirius not being alone too much, something Sirius is perfectly fine with. He still
doesn't relish the idea of being on his own, of letting the memories swarm and overtake him when
he's helpless to resist them and no one's around to try to guide him through them and out the other
side safely.

Remus seems to understand this without asking or having to be told, always telling Sirius on the
nights he chooses to return home to the Potters instead of falling into Remus' bed that he'll see him
first thing the following morning. Sirius is more grateful than ever for the way the other man
always seems to be able to read him so easily, which only serves to make these particular nights
that much worse. He's desperately trying to find some sort of balancing act between his family and
this newfound happiness that seems to constantly bubble inside him until it's threatening to spill
over and wash him away with it.

Harry had been overwhelmingly upset after Sirius' unexpected weekend away when he'd returned
home that Monday evening to find Sirius seated at the kitchen table shelling beans with James for
their dinner. He'd gone so far as to ignore Sirius after his initial burst of relief and excitement,
something that had been mildly amusing coming from a four-year-old, but also immensely
worrying. Sirius has never liked upsetting his godson, even for necessary things such as scolding
the boy for wrongdoings, but the amount of strife he'd seen in the small body and pinched face of
someone he loved more than absolutely anything had reminded Sirius of when he'd been forced to
be away for weeks at a time, filling him with heartbreak and guilt.

When Harry had finally lost the small amount of resolve that any young child is able to contain,
Sirius had gathered him up in his arms and taken him outside where they had sat on the lounger in
the garden and watched the birds fly overhead and swoop down to the ground to peck within the
slowly greening grass. He'd explained to Harry as best he could that he would probably be gone a
little more frequently than he had been. Tears had welled in the boy's bright green eyes, making
them shine in the fading sunlight peeking through the clouds in the sky, until Sirius had managed
to reassure him that it wouldn't be like it had been before. He'd promised that he'd never be gone
for longer than a day's time, something that Harry had seemed to accept relatively easily and had
appeased him, mostly.

Sirius has kept that promise, never breaking it, Remus also seeming to understand its importance
and never offering any arguments or resistance. Sirius spends every other night with Remus in his
flat and returns home in between. The weekends remain theirs, Sirius returning to the man's home
on Friday nights and remaining with him through Monday evening before journeying back to the
Potters', but Sirius still doesn't break his oath to his godson. Remus and him instead have meals
with the family, Saturday lunches and Sunday dinners, much to Harry's delight, who seems to be
steadily falling in love with Remus the more he's around, bolstering a swell of happiness inside
Sirius' chest as he watches them together.

Returning to physio isn't as nerve-racking and harrowing as Sirius had originally thought it would
be. Having spent nearly every day within the building with the same people for the past month, he
finds that he eases back into it with little restraint. Peter, as Remus had suspected, is on to them
from the start, even before Sirius reclaims his still held appointment times, though Sirius isn't
certain how the man seems to know so easily. Remus and Sirius manage to restrain themselves
well when they're not in the confines of Remus' private office. Sirius doesn't think they act any
differently, but he notices Peter giving them odd looks when Sirius joins them again on that first
Tuesday morning, his eyes shifting between them as they interact across the room from one
another whenever Remus isn't busy with a patient.

But, as Remus had also predicted, Peter doesn't pass judgement. He even seems mostly relieved
when he finally calls them out on it the following day, though Sirius spies a lingering hint of
wariness around his eyes and the edges of his mouth that he can't pin down the cause of, deciding
to attribute it to his worry for his friend and what he could possibly be risking in his career by
carrying on with Sirius, who still remains a patient. Sirius can't fault him for the concern, but it
only serves to reinforce Sirius' own will to not cross the lines Remus has so carefully redrawn
around them.

During the second week of Sirius' immersion back into therapy, Remus keeps shooting him sly,
cryptic looks all throughout the day on Wednesday. It sets Sirius on edge, though he can't decide
whether it should be good and anticipatory (which seems highly unlikely as it's a Harry night and
not one meant for Remus) or something that inspires mounting dread. When Sirius' appointment
time finally arrives, the look Remus offers him inside his office finally clues Sirius in on the fact
that it's most assuredly the latter.

"You can't be serious?" demands Sirius. Remus merely smirks at him and Sirius rolls his eyes. "Oh,
hush up with your smirks and your smugness. No, absolutely not. You can't make me."

Remus only laughs in his beautiful, infuriating way as he gathers his things and wheels Sirius
around in the direction of the door.

"Remus, no. Can't we do something else?" whinges Sirius as Remus all but drags from the
building, much to Rosmerta's amusement as she watches the scene from her desk. "I cannot do it. I
can't sit in that bloody pig again that still makes no fucking sense to anyone who looks at it
properly."

Sirius continues to grumble and bemoan the situation and the treatment the entire way across the
car park. Remus remains silent, but once he's finally gets Sirius settled in the car along with
himself, he reaches over, gripping Sirius' chin between his thumb and forefinger firmly, effectively
quieting Sirius' ongoing protests.

"Be good," he says in a low, dangerously husky voice, "and I'll give you a reward afterwards
before you go home." A shiver races down Sirius' spine at the promise, and Remus' smirk returns
as he starts the car and pulls out of the lot.

Wonder of wonders, the sea monster seems to have been repaired in their absence, and after some
sweet-talking (and possibly a little bribery, though Sirius will never admit to it) the man on the
dock wrangles it up for them. It appeases Sirius a small amount, though he catches small glimpses
of the pig as they pedal around the lake's surface, and he thinks it's maybe mocking him. Sirius'
reward makes it far more worth it, he feels compelled to concede to that.

On Wednesday of the following week, Sirius steadily droops a little more the further into the day
they get. When he joins Remus in his office near the start of his appointment time, the fairer man
takes a moment to study Sirius before he huffs in mild exasperation, his eyes glinting humorously
as his mouth twitches in the corners.

"You really do hate those pedal boats, don't you?" he says knowingly, almost sympathetically.
Sirius only glowers across the room at him, though he thinks it falls a little flat of its intended
mark, landing somewhere in the vicinity of pitiful moping. Remus breathes out a small laugh as he
turns to grab his things where he'd deposited them on his desk that morning. "Come on, you
miserable sod."

"To the pedal boats?" questions Sirius sullenly. Remus only rolls his eyes as he walks past him and
out the door.

--------------------

"This is meant to be an improvement on pedal boats?" says Sirius, dumbfounded.

"They're not shaped like animals, are they? I don't see a pig anywhere nearby."

"Thank Christ for that," counters Sirius to Remus' snarky remark. "But it would make more sense
here, though I think I'd prefer a dog. Or a horse."

Remus shifts his arms a little expectantly, the rubber of the tire twisting with his movements and
grinding faintly over the pavement. Sirius huffs.

"Bicycles, really? How are these meant to be any better than the boats?" demands Sirius, though
there's no real animosity in his tone, only a small amount of bafflement.

"I thought we already clarified this. There aren't any pigs this time. According to you and your
whinging, that should be all the improvement you need," states Remus, smirking as Sirius scowls
at him, his eyes narrowing.

"I will bite you," threatens Sirius.

Remus' smirk spreads into a challenging grin. "Oh, I know," he says easily, leaning forward on the
handlebars in front of him, the wheel of the bicycle between his knees. "But not for another hour."

Sirius groans, letting his head fall back, and Remus chortles. "That's just bloody unfair," he
bemoans.

Remus calms himself after a moment and explains, "I told you the pedal boats were only a
steppingstone and that they wouldn't last long. This is what they were leading to, which is also a
steppingstone, in a way."

"Is everything a steppingstone?"

Remus smiles at him in a very obvious way. "It's good to see you're finally figuring it out, Sirius,"
he remarks in casual amusement. "It's only taken you five months."

Sirius gapes as Remus raises his eyebrows with a humorous expression, waiting, but Sirius shakes
it away, letting the taunt go for the time being. "What I want to know is how is this any different
from the perfectly good and – I'm guessing – expensive exercise bike you have sitting in the
Playroom?"

"For one," says Remus, picking up the subject shift easily as he twistsw the wheel of the bicycle
again, "being outside is always better than staying inside a stuffy room, no matter how much I love
that place. For two, while the exercise bike is nice for certain things, I only have it for more minor
injuries or to use on days when venturing outside the office isn't possible. Real bicycles require
balance, for you to work your entire body, not just a few select parts. It's a mental thing just as
much as a physical one. Bicycles are very beneficial, Sirius." Remus licks his lips as he glances up
to meet Sirius' eyes, something wicked dancing in them. "And, if you're now to insist on riding that
death machine you call a motorbike on a regular basis, I'm going to insist on the cycling. That's
also a balancing act."

Sirius glowers at him again, and this time, it's at full power. But Remus only beams at him as he
straightens, his finger flicking over the arm of the little bell attached to the bars, tinkling it
enthusiastically.

"Hop on," he insists.

And so, through some mystical power that only Remus Lupin seems to possess, Sirius begins
bicycling. He ponders the shift his life seems to have taken as they ride over the pavements of a
nearby park that's mostly abandoned on a late Wednesday afternoon, but as he catches a glimpse of
Remus pedaling idly along beside him, Sirius knows it's pointless. Because Remus has taken his
life and completely balled it up, spread it back out, smoothed the wrinkles over, and reshaped it
into something far better than it ever had been before.

--------------------

"I want to have a party," announces Lily later that same night.

Remus had come back with Sirius after their bicycle excursion for dinner. They're currently in the
sitting room with the rest of the family, James and Lily resting on the sofa together, Harry playing
in the floor with a few toys, one of them the stuffed black dog still deemed as Snuffles, much to
Sirius' chagrin.

Remus is seated in the armchair, one leg curled up under his other, his body completely relaxed as
though he belongs here as much as Sirius does, Sirius on the floor in front of him, leaning back and
resting against the man's knees, his head tilting backwards into his lap. Remus' fingers gently
thread through Sirius' hair like he's not even thinking about it, his brown eyes fixed on Harry, a
small smile pulling at the corners of his lips as the boy chatters mumbled make-believe to himself.

Sirius watches him, his view upside down but still perfect. The way Remus looks at Harry softens
something in Sirius that he'd already thought was tempered beyond anything recognizable, but he's
pleasantly surprised to find he'd been wrong. Remus seems to have that constant effect on him,
pushing Sirius just a little further when Sirius thinks he's finished, that there's nowhere left to go
from where he currently is. Remus always manages to prove him wrong in the best ways.

He looks up at Lily after her statement, as does James, though Remus continues watching Harry,
fully content. Sirius opens his mouth to speak, to question her thinking in curiosity, but James beats
him to it.

"Just had one, didn't we?" he says obtusely, shifting on the sofa a little. "My birthday, remember?
You were there, Lils."

Lily provides her husband with a humorously admonishing glare as she says in a huff, "Yes, but
you tailored Sirius' guest list down to nearly nothing. There was barely anyone here. Just the three
of us, and a few people that you work with. Frank and Alice couldn't even come because they were
out of country!"

Sirius shrinks back into Remus a little as the conversation shifts. Lily's right, of course. James had
taken over the invited guests for his birthday do, shrinking it down until, Sirius knows, no one
remained that would be able to discuss anything untoward with Sirius that didn't know him well
enough to do so.

Remus is suddenly entirely focused on Sirius, his eyes having finally left Harry. His hand never
stops moving over Sirius' head, fingers combing through his hair and drawing small circles across
his scalp as they go. His expression is soft, reassuring, as he looks down at Sirius with a tenderness
held in his gaze that Sirius wants nothing more than to melt into. His body relaxes back out, him
having not even realized it had tensed until his muscles slowly begin to unlock, his shoulders
slumping down against the other man's legs. Remus smiles at him, a small gesture, meant only for
Sirius, and Sirius feels far too warm but also entirely right and comfortable.

His friends are still bickering good-naturedly back and forth, but Lily finally turns to him and says,
"What do you think, Sirius?"

Sirius lifts his head in mild confusion, having missed the last few things the woman has said in his
distraction. "I – why d'you want to have a party?"

Lily, for all her conviction in her earlier words, seems to struggle for a moment. "I just…think it
would be good," she hedges, sounding like she's shifting around something delicate.

"Good," repeats Sirius slowly, his eyes narrowing at the red head. "For me, you mean. Good for
me. What's this about, Evans?"

Lily's mouth twists a little before she huffs and pushes herself forward on the sofa to look at him
properly. "It's not just about you, Sirius, though yes, you're a large part of it," she explains, Sirius
feeling a wariness settle over him that he tenses against until he feels Remus' fingers shift across his
scalp again. "I think we have things that deserve celebrating with the people we care about. I
haven't seen Alice in ages, and you haven't seen Frank or Benjy in months."

Sirius' brow furrows as he starts to argue, but Lily holds up a hand to stop him. "Things have
changed for you, Sirius, I know they have, but that doesn't mean everything has to. You can still
see and interact with the people that care about you the most. You don't have to shutter yourself
away from them. You can still live your life. And now with this…" She motions a small hand in
Remus' direction, her eyes twinkling fondly. "Don't you want them to meet Remus? Don't you want
them to see how happy you are right now? Because I do."

He turns his head a little to look back at Remus. The other man smiles delicately at him, not
pushing, his eyes telling Sirius it's okay for Lily to be right about Sirius closing himself off.

"What do you think?" asks Sirius quietly, Lily and James listening but pretending to focus on Harry
instead, giving the two men a moment.
Remus provides his hair with a gentle tug, his smile growing a little but remaining just as soft
around the edges as he stares at Sirius fondly. "I think if you want to see your friends, you should,"
he says finally. "I think you miss them more than you let on."

"You're all right with being paraded around in front of whoever she chooses to invite to this thing
of hers?" questions Sirius skeptically.

"Well," says Remus slowly, one side of his mouth tugging up higher even as Sirius can tell he tries
to fight the growing grin, "I don't consider it being paraded. More of a…worshipful gathering to
lay witness to your physio god."

Sirius blinks at him for a long few seconds before he throws his head back and barks out a sharp
burst of laughter. Harry laughs from across the room along with him, making his stuffed dog bark
in a mockery of Sirius' sounds, Sirius watching as Remus' eyes crinkle in the corners before he
turns back to Lily.

"All right, fine," Sirius finally relents, and Lily beams, standing from the sofa and grabbing a
notepad and biro off the table in front of her.

"I'll make a list of people," she chirps immediately, already scribbling furiously. Remus looks
vaguely amused from the corner of Sirius' eye, but Sirius raises his hands in preparation to stop her.
James speaks before he's able to, once again thinking the same thing as Sirius himself is.

"Whoa, wait. Hold on a tick, Lils," he says, reaching out and resting a hand on his wife's arm,
pausing her writing as she looks down at him curiously. "Who are you inviting?"

Lily's brow furrows before she seems to understand the caution filling James' voice. Her eyes snap
to Sirius, face kind and understanding. "No one you aren't comfortable with," she tells him
reassuringly. "I was thinking Frank and Alice, Benjy, Molly and Arthur, if you'd like. Maybe Mary
from work. I've been looking for an excuse to introduce her and Benjy. I think they'd get on like a
house exploding, not just on fire, don't you?"

Sirius rolls his eyes in mild exasperation. Lily Potter: matchmaker extraordinaire. She'd been
thrilled the first time she'd seen Sirius after his initial weekend spent with Remus. There'd been a
great deal of cheek pinching, much to his annoyance. Sirius and James both try to respond, but Lily
isn't listening anymore, fully attuned into planning mode.

"All the children, too, of course, that way no one will have to find a minder. They can all run about
in the back garden, won't that be delightful?" she prattles on, still scrawling furiously over her pad
of paper. "We'll need food. What should I make, do you think? Should we barbeque? But I'd only
like to do that if it's a nice day, and there's never any guarantee of that in advance, is there? Maybe
just some light finger foods would be ideal. I'll make a list. Oh, Remus, luv."

Remus looks up suddenly from where he'd been gazing down at Sirius as he'd twisted strands of his
hair together in a spiraling knot. His eyebrows lift, hands releasing the hair in his fingers and letting
it fall back into place, slightly wavy now.

"Yes?" He sounds mildly wary, uncertain, and Sirius doesn't blame him. There's an almost wild
look in Lily's green eyes now as she stares at them.

"Feel free to invite your lot, too. Whoever you'd like. Everyone from your office," insists Lily
kindly. "We'd love to really meet them. You two have talked about them so much. They sound
delightful." She pauses as Remus frowns a little, Sirius glancing back at him and watching as he
struggles his way to an answer, but Lily seems to understand before he gets there. "Oh. Well, I
suppose that's not the best idea, is it, with you two trying to keep it all divided as you are? That's all
right. We can all be properly introduced another time. What about just Peter? He knows, doesn't
he? Invite him and his girlfriend. Emmeline, you said her name was?"

Remus' mouth works a little, no sound emerging as he looks back down at Sirius, like he's seeking
guidance. Sirius can only shrug helplessly. Lily's a top spinning round violently. Nothing will stop
her now.

"I – yes, that's her name. Lovely girl, really," says Remus eventually when Lily's eyes don't leave
him, waiting for an answer. "All right, yeah. I'll see if they want to come."

"Splendid," chirps Lily happily. "Anyone else you'd like to invite? I'll add them to the list."

Remus shakes his head, a mystified but warm expression spreading over his face. "No, but thank
you, Lily. That's very kind."

Lily waves him off. "It's nothing, really," she says lightly. "You're in our lives now. We want your
people here, too, if they're important to you."

Remus doesn't say anything in response, but Sirius can see the tightness forming as his jaw locks,
his teeth grinding down. His brown eyes flicker with startling emotion, and Sirius understands it.
The other man hadn't had a proper family in a long time, possibly never, judging by what Remus
had said of his father while he'd been growing up as a child. Yet here is Lily, opening her arms
easily, telling him without really saying the words that Remus is as much a part of their family as
Sirius himself is. Sirius has never been more grateful for Lily in his entire life, and he intends to tell
her just as much the first chance he gets away from Remus.

The clock chiming on the mantelpiece finally seems to pull Lily from her haze of planning. She
sets the paper and biro back on the table before shifting around it. "It's getting late. I should get
Harry to bed." She pauses as she passes Remus and Sirius, studying them for a few seconds before
she leans down and cups both of their faces in her hands. "I'm so happy you two finally sorted this
mess out. I was ready to lock you in a room together if you didn't figure it out soon."

Sirius rolls his eyes, but he smiles up at her as she slides her thumb over his cheek affectionately.
Lily's gaze drifts around the room, taking them all in with reverence. "All my happy boys," she
murmurs serenely. James provides her with a dopey little smile when their eyes meet. Lily sighs
and then she fixes her gaze on Remus. "Feel free to stay here tonight if you'd like. You've been so
wonderful with the schedule Sirius has set in place for Harry's benefit. We don't mind if you want
to stay here, not ever. Right, James?"

"Whatever you want, mate," echoes James in a roundabout way as he shrugs nonchalantly. "S'long
I don't have to be part of whatever you two do, knock yourself out."

Sirius grabs the pillow next to Remus in the armchair and chucks it at James' head, the man
catching it deftly and stuffing it under his thigh, his eyes barely leaving the television, like that's
what he'd intended from the beginning. Sirius huffs but glances up at Remus as Lily trails away to
collect Harry.

"D'you want to?" he asks uncertainly. "You don't have to, but…you can, if you want. I wouldn't
mind it."

Remus studies him before a smile slowly spreads over his face, small and warm. "I'd love to," he
murmurs, his forefinger trailing over the side of Sirius' face. Sirius beams at him, something
swelling up inside him, thinking, as he sits on the floor in a room filled with the people he cares
about the most in the world, that he's never been so happy in his entire life.

Which is how, a week and a half later, Sirius finds himself back in the sitting room on the floor
again, sorting through music on his phone, trying to build a playlist that will be appropriate for all
their guests. It chips away at his soul a little every time he adds one of his friends' precious top
forty hits, but he supplements the ache with more than enough of the classics and some of his own
preferences sprinkled generously throughout.

"Sirius, c'mon, mate. We need music. Otherwise, you can't call this a party," says Frank from the
doorway to the kitchen, his voice teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm working on it," grumbles Sirius. "Hold your knickers in place. I'm trying to make
sure everyone enjoys it."

"I'm curious who decided to give him free reign with the music for this thing," comments Benjy as
he steps up behind Frank, watching Sirius over the other man's shoulder. "We're all bound to suffer
for it. No one will know what more than half of it is, I guarantee you."

Sirius doesn't even look up from his phone screen as he sends Benjy a two-finger salute. Benjy
cackles loudly, Sirius seeing the man throw his head back in mirth from the corner of his eye. He
finally drops his phone on the shelf next to the speakers after calling it good enough, hitting the
shuffle button as he does so.

Pushing himself to his feet, cautious of his still mending knee, Sirius journeys his way into the
kitchen, leaving the door cracked open so the music can filter through to the gaggle of chattering
people inside. As the first song streams in, he hears several groans from around the room, Sirius
pouting in return.

"What the bloody hell is this, Padfoot?" grouses Frank as he sidles up beside Alice who's currently
engaged in a giggling fit over a conversation with Lily and Mary, her olive skin creasing at the
corners of her dark eyes and mouth. "Has anyone other than you ever even heard this rubbish
before?"

When I get lost and I'm uneven, when nothing seems to stick, it's like is this for real or am I
dreaming? Is this just another trick?

Sirius glances over to the table where Remus is sitting, talking to James. The other man meets his
gaze, a small smile pulling to match Sirius' own. "At least one other person, yeah," replies Sirius, a
little distracted by the glow in Remus' eyes.

Frank huffs and rolls his eyes good-naturedly, watching as Sirius makes his way over to Remus,
who tracks his movements as well. He reaches out his arm as Sirius approaches, not allowing him
to sit in the empty chair beside him, the arm wrapping around his waist and pulling Sirius sideways
down into his lap instead.

"Fuck, you're heavy," mutters Remus teasingly, his face pressing into Sirius' upper arm as he
chuckles.

Sirius grunts, his mouth twisting wryly as he whispers, "Funny, I've never heard you complain
about my weight before. Not even last night when you had me up against your kitchen wall."

Here it comes around again, I know that old feeling. I'm coming for you now, it's over. Some things
we don't understand, not part of our command, but they get closer and closer.

Remus snorts a little into Sirius' shirtsleeve. "Fair point," he murmurs in return, looking up at him
from beneath his lashes with an implicating smirk. Sirius waggles his eyebrows, but he readjusts
himself a little to make it more comfortable for the other man, Remus sighing in contentment.
"You're bloody perfect. Just the best…whatever you are."

Sirius barks out a small laugh in amusement, his fingers trailing over the back of Remus' neck.
They'd discussed it at one point, what they were to each other, what they were meant to call one
another to other people. Boyfriend, partner, lover. The list had gone on, boyfriend finally settling
the closest, but it had become a small joke between them. Sirius didn't much care what they called
themselves. Only one word came to mind whenever Sirius thought of Remus. Mine.

I've already felt your ghost. There's nobody else as close. But before we get too low, stay with me.
Don't you go.

"Whoa, not in front of the kiddies, mates," says James suddenly, raising his hands in the air. "Have
some decency about you, will you?"

Sirius scowls at him. "You mean the kids that are currently outside trying to expel a ghost from the
begonia plants?"

"I was talking about Peter, actually," returns James with a nasty smirk.

"Oi!" cries Peter from where he's leaning against the wall, pulling himself from a conversation with
Arthur as James, Remus, and Sirius laugh. "What did I do?"

"You're just so baby-faced. It's adorable," comments James with a mock look of admiration on his
features.

"Piss off," mutters Peter, but he's laughing, too.

Peter and James had got on instantly. It's a little astonishing to Sirius how well the four of them
seem to meld together almost seamlessly, like they've known each other their entire lives. They'd
all bantered back and forth half the afternoon, the others around them throwing in their fair share,
everyone laughing and happy and chattering away amongst themselves like old friends.

"Sirius, I think Remus has had too much influence on you," comments Peter once the laughter has
mostly died away. "Please tell me you've got something other than Longwave on this playlist of
yours."

Sirius turns sharp eyes on the round-faced man. "We are not listening to Ed Sheeran. Not under
any circumstances," he denies, and Peter mock mopes, pulling another laugh from Sirius.

"I dunno," says Remus thoughtfully, low enough so that only Sirius can hear as James trails away
from the table to talk to Benjy and Mary, who are getting on rather well also, much to Lily's
unhidden delight. "There are a few things of his that aren't bad. I've got a couple on your playlist."

"I'm sorry, what?" utters Sirius, his eyebrows lifting. "You? And Ed Sheeran? Has someone
abducted you and replaced you with a replica?" He prods at Remus' neck with a testing finger, the
other man laughing as he swats Sirius away. "I've got to get my hands on that playlist."

"Not a chance," rebuffs Remus. "That's for me, not you." Sirius pouts deeply but Remus only
laughs again and says firmly, "No."

"That's fine. You'll give in one day. I have my ways." Remus hums in mild agreement. Sirius lets
his head tilt far to the side, his face scrunching up as he studies his boyfriend – fuck, he's still not
used to that – with slightly narrowed eyes. "Ed Sheeran, really?"
"Stop judging me!" squawks Remus in amusement. "Some of his earlier is stuff is a mood."

"You're a mood," mutters Sirius happily as he shakes his head and leans down to steal a kiss.
Remus' hand drifts up and down his side lazily as he smiles against Sirius' mouth.

"Besides, you hang about with Peter enough, some things stick. Lie with rats, you're bound to catch
a few diseases." Sirius arches an eyebrow in silent, baffling question. "It's a running joke. Peter can
be…manipulative when he wants to be, but only about what he thinks is best. It's all well intended.
But I've always compared him to a rat."

"I think he deserves a nickname for that," muses Sirius, a grin spreading over his face as the
possibilities abound.

They all eat and talk and laugh the afternoon away, the horde of children racing in and out of the
house periodically like a hurricane of movement and noise before everything settles again, Mary
eventually trailing outside after them, ready to play. A couple hours later finds Remus and Sirius in
the sitting room, seated comfortably on one side of the sofa, Molly and Arthur at the other end,
Peter and Emmeline cozied up in a nearby armchair.

Emmeline is a lovely woman. Sirius finds that he likes her a great deal, her soft way seeming to
compliment Peter remarkably well, though Sirius has discovered a small fire inside her the more
they've talked, a dry sense of humor that comes out at the most opportune times. Sirius is
encouraging it, enamored by the way her dark green eyes blaze right before she flies off with a
witty, biting retort.

Remus had explained to her the importance of not mentioning their new relationship to Marlene or
Dorcas. She had seemed to understand their reasoning for keeping it closely held back from her
friends and had promised not to bring it up or make comments about it to anyone other than Peter.
Sirius had been a little hesitant to trust her, but Peter had appeared unfazed and believed she would
hold to her word, so Sirius had accepted her assurances, relaxing a little against Remus.

The playlist is still going, shuffling through random songs, seemingly endless. Sirius hadn't
realized at the time how many he'd added, but he's happy none have repeated so far. They're
chattering idly, Emmeline telling Molly about her work with animals, another thing that has only
endeared Sirius to her more, Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy playing over the speakers at a slightly
softer volume than earlier now that some of them have migrated from the kitchen. Remus throws
him small, knowing glances during select lyrics, sending tiny shivers racing down Sirius' spine at
the look in his brown eyes.

As the song fades out, another starts up. The deep bass vibrates through the floor and under their
feet. Sirius instantly knows its one by Longwave, but he finds he can't recall any of the words, like
he's never listened to it properly, which is mind-boggling because at this point, he thinks he's heard
all their songs multiple times. He tries to pay attention this time, because he thinks he likes it, a
faint memory pulling at the back of his mind, but he suddenly feels Remus tense a little beside him.
Sirius looks at him, brow furrowing in mild concern.

"All right?" he asks quietly as the others continue talking.

Remus smiles, though it takes a while before Sirius feels him relax. "Yeah," he replies easily. "Just
a little tired."

Sirius nods. "We can go soon, if you want," he offers, not really caring either way. "Lily won't
argue too much. We've done our time."
"I'm fine," says Remus, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Sirius' cheekbone. "We can stay as
long as you want. I'm enjoying myself and being with you. I've liked meeting all your other
friends."

"They love you, I can tell," informs Sirius with a spreading smile. "You're a regular charmer,
Remoo."

"Still not happening," Remus tells him with a level look, and Sirius huffs.

"Fine, fine. I'll find the right one someday." He leans forward and grabs his empty lager bottle
from the table, shaking it at Remus in offering. "Gonna get another. Want one?"

Remus shakes his head in denial, and Sirius extricates himself from his arms, standing and
rounding the end of the sofa to enter the hall so as not to interrupt the conversation between the
other two couples. He can hear his other friends speaking in muffled voices through the closed
kitchen door as he approaches, and Sirius is just about to push it open to enter when the words
reach his ears, and he stops.

"They can't really get away with this, can they? Not doing anything to Gideon?" asks Lily angrily,
clearly trying to keep her volume low, though she mostly fails. "Minerva and Alastor can't let this
happen. There has to be something they can do. That monster can't be allowed to remain on the
team."

"Moody and McGonagall have tried and done every possible thing they can. They're no happier
about it than any of us," says Frank, his tone thick and burning, like his throat is filled with lava.
"He's not even been benched. I'm not sure what they're going to do. Most of us won't have anything
to do with him. We keep refusing to play with him, but their hands are tied. Gideon's there to stay
until he chooses to leave himself, and that's not happening. And we've got no choice in the matter
unless we leave ourselves, which most of us can't easily do like he could."

"Frank and I have looked into it, some sort of transfer for him," speaks up Alice softly, "but most
teams that would be willing to take him are far away. Some on different continents. With Neville
and our families, it's not something we want to do unless necessary."

There's a small, lingering pause before Frank says guiltily, "I hate it. I feel like I'm betraying Sirius
by staying there. We all do."

"Sirius won't ever blame any of you for that," attests James, speaking up for the first time. "He
understands. This is your careers, your livelihoods. He hasn't even decided what he's going to do
yet."

"He can't go back," says Alice, her voice filled with horror. "Not with Gideon still there. Surely he
wouldn't."

"I'm not sure what he's going to do," murmurs James, sounding disheartened. "He loves playing,
we all know that, but…things were already rocky for him before this happened. I'm not sure where
his head is at anymore about the entire thing."

Benjy finally interjects himself, sounding fierce, seething with rage. "If he does decide to come
back, Prewett won't be getting anywhere near him again, not for anything. I don't care if he only
needs a towel to wipe his snotty fucking nose, he'll never touch him again or I'll go through with
breaking his wrist next time."

"What are you talking about?" demands Lily sharply.

Frank sighs heavily. "We found Gideon and Dirk in the changing rooms, laughing about the whole
thing. We both lost it a little. More than a little. It was a huge fight. Gideon tried to go in for a
punch, but Benj caught his wrist and twisted it, pushed him down to the ground. Nearly broke it.
Gave it a good sprain as it was."

"I should have gone through with it," snarls Benjy. "It's the least he deserves, the fucking prick.
The look in his eyes when he was talking about it, like he'd won some massive prize. It's
disgusting. And he can still play with a broken wrist just fine. Fabian had a similar injury a couple
years ago, remember? It never stopped him. If he wants to push it, I'll give them matching
fractures, make sure they keep that twin thing going as best as possible."

"Sirius doesn't want that," warns James, though he sounds like he wishes he didn't have to, like he
wants to do the same thing Benjy is threatening and more.

There's silence for a small length of time before Benjy mumbles, "I know. It's the only reason I
stopped myself. It won't actually help or fix anything. But fuck, if it would…"

"Yeah," chorus several voices at the same time before they all trail away.

Eventually, Lily speaks up again. "What about Fabian? How's he handling this thing?"

"Fab is…quiet," replies Frank. "He's staying out of it. Hasn't said much to anyone about it, but it
doesn't look like he's really speaking to Gideon either. I'm not sure what to make of it. Gideon is
his brother, but how do you continue to support someone who is capable to doing something like
that, family or not?"

"Doesn't seem like he's supporting him to me," says Benjy darkly. "I heard them rowing a couple
weeks ago when they thought everyone was gone after practice. Gideon was complaining about
what I'd done to his wrist and Fabian just unleashed on him. I've never heard him like that before.
He's normally so restrained. Apparently, he saw Sirius the day he came to talk to McGonagall,
wanted to talk to him, but Sirius left before he could. Gideon didn't like that much, from what I
gathered. The way he sees it, he did what was necessary. He's got no regret, not one drop. He said
Sirius asked for it by being himself, said he threw himself at Gideon. The piece of cack. How
someone like that could ever be as lucky as he's been in his life…"

Benjy trails off, sounding like he's choking on his own anger. He inhales a few deep breaths before
he's able to continue. "The lack of consequences the Association is allowing isn't helping matters
any. He thinks he's untouchable, thinks they're backing him, and they are, in their own way, just
because they're too scared what it will do to them if this gets out. And that's the real reason they
won't hear any of it. They're worried Prewett will be pissed enough to go running his mouth,
spinning the story in his favor, but it would still bring hell down upon their heads, along with
everyone else's."

Sirius is frozen outside the door as he listens to the conversation. He can't move, his muscles
locked in place. His fingers grip so tightly around the bottle in his hands that he's amazed it hasn't
shattered yet, but he can't release it. Nothing is working anymore, not his body or his mind or his
heart. It's all an endless void of nothing, blackness, creeping darkness encasing everything around
him. He feels like he's suffocating, like he's been buried alive under mounds and mounds of dirt.

"Hey," says a soft voice behind him, and Sirius startles violently, feeling like a vicious shock is
racing through his entire body. "It's only me," whispers Remus instantly, his arm wrapping
carefully and tenderly around Sirius front at his middle. "Just me, love. Can you breathe for me,
please? Just take a deep breath. In and out."
Sirius sucks in a gasp of air, and it's only then that he realizes he'd stopped breathing at all, not
knowing when he had or how long he'd gone without oxygen. His head spins horribly, so he
assumes a while, and he leans back into Remus' body as the man presses his face to the back of his
head, nose nestling in his hair comfortingly.

"I've got you. You're okay, Sirius," he reassures gently. "You're safe. You're always safe here. No
one's going to hurt you. I've got you, baby."

Sirius twists in Remus' arms at the words, his own wrapping around his back and gripping as
tightly as he can as his body shakes. Hands soothe over his shoulders and up and down his back as
he continues to murmur soft words into Sirius' dark hair where it's pressed to the side of his face as
Sirius buries his face in the curve of Remus' neck. He isn't aware when Remus carefully nudges
open the kitchen door, has no idea of the look the man levels at Sirius' friends when they glance up
with mixing expressions of horror and guilt when they see Sirius standing there, breaking apart in
Remus' arms.
 Roller Rinks, Truths, & Walking Away

Sirius is quiet the rest of the night and most of the following day. Remus had excused them soon
after once he'd managed to calm Sirius down enough for them to leave, before anyone could make
comment about their overheard conversation in the kitchen. Remus is a constant, warm press of
weight beside him as Sirius sits on the sofa in the man's flat, eyes staring almost sightlessly at the
telly Remus had finally turned on.

Brown eyes watch him, Sirius feeling them whenever he tunes back into his surroundings enough
to pay them any attention. Remus doesn't push him to talk about it, doesn't try to get Sirius to speak
at all, taking what he offers graciously but leaving him be in his silence otherwise. Sirius is grateful
for this, because he's finding it difficult to process much right now.

Eventually, Remus stands and offers his hand to Sirius, and it's only then that Sirius realizes the
television is no longer on and the room is silent. Sirius takes the hand in front of him and Remus
gently pulls him to his feet, leading him to the bedroom. He helps Sirius pull his shirt over his head
and strip his trousers until only his pants remain, Remus doing the same before they're buried
beneath the blankets together on their sides, facing one another.

Remus gazes at him through the darkness, eyes soft as his fingers thread gently through Sirius' hair
with delicate movements. They're simple gestures, saying that he's there, he understands, Sirius is
safe. He's warm and held close and protected here with Remus, and it's enough to eventually soothe
him to sleep, though it's far from restful.

When he wakes again in the early dawn light just beginning to filter through the window behind
the half-closed drapes, Remus is still there, awake as well, eyes shifting over Sirius' face, searching
out lines of distress and smoothing them away with tender touches of soft fingertips. Sirius can see
the faint tinges of worry spreading over Remus' features, and Sirius thinks they're probably
deserved after Sirius' mostly muteness the evening before, but he's not sure what to do about it just
yet to ease the concern away.

So, he does the one thing he can think of that will make any of it disappear for just a little while.
Sirius presses forward, kissing him slow, building to a deeper ferocity as he rolls him onto his back
and Sirius straddles his hips. His mouth claims the other man's skin everywhere it can land, and
then he fucks him until they're both in a void filled with nothing but blackness and each other,
gasped breaths taking over the silence, bodies arching and straining with need, fingers clawing and
digging into flesh.

Later that day finds them piled on the sofa again, sides pressed into one another, Sirius still not
speaking more than really necessary. Their lunches are abandoned on the table in front of them,
Sirius' separated food only partially touched. He'd checked his phone that morning to find a flood
of messages from his friends filled with concern and guilt-ridden apologies. He'd ignored them all
except James', telling his friend he was fine, it was fine, asking him to let the others know Sirius
wasn't angry with them, it wasn't their fault, because it wasn't other than them having the
conversation somewhere Sirius could easily overhear, though even that he couldn't fault them for,
not really.

Remus' eyes keep drifting to study the side of Sirius' face, watching his distant expression. He
finally turns the telly off and shifts back to the arm of the sofa, sprawling out over the cushions and
pulling Sirius between his legs to lay with him, pillowed against his chest. Remus connects his
phone to the speaker on the other side of the room, music streaming at a low volume, and then
picks up a book from the small table behind his head, cracks open the spine, and begins to read
softly.

One night to be confused. One night to speed up truth. We had a promise, babe. Four hands and
then away.

Sirius has no idea what the book is, and he doesn't much care, finding more comfort in the voice
speaking the words than the words themselves. Remus' fingers trace small, nonsensical patterns
over Sirius' side and half his back as he reads, Sirius winding his arm around the other man and
nuzzling his nose into his fabric covered chest, breathing him in, flooding himself with citrus and
sweetness as he closes his eyes.

His mind keeps drifting back to what he'd heard Frank and Benjy say the day before. Sirius isn't
sure why it had shocked him so much, because he'd known on some deep level the truth of it, even
before the words had been said aloud. But thinking it and hearing it are two completely different
things, and it's left him rooted in dirt caked with too quickly drying cement, keeping him locked in,
unable to break free again. He keeps returning to that wall and those hands, that sneering,
victorious face pressing close to his, the hot, muggy breath over his skin, the gripping hold on his
body.

Both under influence, we had a divine sense to know what to say. Mind is a razor blade.

Sirius' dreams had been filled with it the night before. He remembers them all, every small detail
that has haunted him for months now. He can't seem to lose it no matter how hard he tries. It feels
so ingrained into his entire system now that when Sirius had finally pulled himself from the
nightmares, he'd been surprised and nearly whimpering in relief to see Remus' face instead of
Gideon's, something he'd expected, for some reason, a shock racing through his system when it
hadn't been true.

"He was laughing about it," whispers Sirius when Remus pauses to turn the page a while later.
Remus stills under him, the book dropping a little from where he's holding it suspended above
them. "Like he'd done nothing more than a stupid prank, drawing on my face or shoving a wet
finger in my ear. He laughed, Remus. Like it's all a joke, like he didn't – like he didn't break me
into pieces that can't fit back together again."

One night of magic rush. The start, a simple touch. One night to push and scream, and then relief.

Remus doesn't speak, doesn't move, like he's waiting, can feel it building, knows something's
coming. Sirius hates it, fights back against it, because he knows it's coming, too, and he doesn't
want it, any of it. He wants only to bury it back down, but it's all too close now and it's spilling over
his tongue, leaving Sirius powerless to stop it.

"He said I asked for it by being myself. What does that mean? Is it going to happen again because
someone's going to look at me and think that's what I'm after, that I'm begging for it or – fuck."

Sirius stops, breaks off, gasping for breath a little. Remus lets the book fall from his hand,
dropping to the floor without care, his arms encircling and holding Sirius tightly but still loose
enough so that he can breathe and not feel caught.

Ten days of perfect tunes, the colors red and blue. We had a promise, babe. We were in love.

"I didn't – I never – He trapped me! He caught me when no one was around and he pushed me
back into that room and held me there. I didn't want it and I didn't want him. I was trying to avoid
him. I'd stopped taunting, stopped talking to him about anything. Was that – did I just make it
worse? Did I twist it all around so suddenly and completely that I made it happen? Were his hands
on me payback for ignoring him, for pushing him away to stop him from being…him?"

"Sirius, no," says Remus quickly, shifting up a little so he can look down at him properly. His
hands slip around the sides of Sirius' face, cupping it gently but firmly, his brown eyes fierce.
"Stop, baby. Just stop."

And you. You knew the hand of the devil. And you kept us awake with wolves' teeth, sharing
different heartbeats in one night.

Sirius does stop but he can't make the breaths shuddering in his chest cease, can't halt the
desperation he feels spreading through his entire being. The blackness is encroaching again and
Sirius can't do anything to keep it at bay this time. But he doesn't have to because Remus is there,
fingers spreading down his neck, thumbs gliding over his cheeks and jaw, soothing away what he
can, banishing it back, blinding it with light so bright no darkness can escape.

"You didn't do anything wrong. No, stop. Look at me!" demands Remus forcefully when Sirius'
eyes dart away to glance around the room like there's something hiding in the shadows. "This is not
your fault. It's not, Sirius. And I will keep telling you that every second of every day if that's what
it takes for you to finally believe it and stop trying to blame yourself for any of this.

"Sirius, he attacked you," presses Remus, looking solemn and apologetic but adamant. "Out of
nowhere, for no good reason, not matter what he says or thinks. You were doing everything you
should have been. You were scared of him, I know you were. I heard what you said to me before it
happened, but I didn't push the matter because you seemed so resistant to it. I should have, and I'm
sorry for that. I'm so sorry. I understand some of the blame you're telling yourself you should be
feeling because I feel like I let this happen to you by not doing more when you first spoke out about
it. But I – "

Remus stops, sounding like he's choking on something. He looks up, staring at the opposite wall
leading to the kitchen but Sirius can tell he's not really seeing it. The man closes his eyes briefly
before his head is shifting again, gazing back down at Sirius.

"You said it was toxic, that you were waiting for something bad to happen, and I didn't do anything
to help you. I let it go, told myself it wasn't my place to interfere because it was your life and we
were…I'd drawn that line and somehow I knew that pushing deeper into your world would erase it
completely. But it shouldn't have mattered. I should have pushed. For once in my life, that was the
moment to stop caring about all my stupid little hang ups and do something, and I didn't. I let you
walk back into those practices with him, knowing what I did, and he hurt you. And I'm so sorry,
Sirius. I'm sorry about all of it."

Sirius turns in Remus' arms as much as his body and their positioning will allow. His fingers drift
up over the sides of the other man's face, slotting on either side of his ears and holding firmly.

"If I'm not allowed to blame myself, why the fuck d'you think I'm going to let you do it?" says
Sirius resolutely.

He can still feel it all swirling inside him, trying to steal his breath away, trying to coat him in
blackness, but he pushes it away a little better, because he hadn't realized. Remus keeps everything
held so closely, something Sirius is slowly beginning to see through like a veil lifting with every
passing day. He tapers his emotions and thoughts, holds them in, closes them off from the world.
Sirius wonders, sometimes, what made him like this, if it's the lingering shyness Remus had told
him about, or something else entirely.

"Don't do that. Please don't do that," begs Sirius. "It's not your fault either. You didn't let it happen.
You didn't know, Remus. Maybe you were wary, but there's no way you could have known
because even I didn't, not to this extent." Sirius sighs then, letting his hands drop, one splaying out
over Remus' neck, the other resting on his chest, just beneath his shoulder. "I'm not…good at
talking, Remus. Not about these sorts of things. I never have been. James and Lily hate it, they
always have, but I can't really change it. They say I keep too much in, try to deal with it all on my
own. And they're right. That's what I did with this, from the beginning. I'm still doing it.

"I knew something was coming," he continues softly. "I think we all did. Before I fell and hurt my
knee, he came after me during practice one day. Kicked my ankle hard. Played it off like a mistake,
not watching where he was aiming, but I knew. Some of the others did, too, but I ignored it. It's
why I was at that shop the first day we ran into each other. Had to get some gel for it. The biscuits
were just something extra for Harry. But I still ignored it, even with James protesting and warning
me to be careful. I still antagonized him, taunted him with that bloody song. I didn't stop until I
started to really feel it, that – that danger settling in every time he looked at me, but I still didn't
know, not really. Who would ever think something like that – why would I even anticipate – ?"

Sirius cuts off, feeling like he's choking on something again, the words getting stuck on their
upwards climb. Remus tightens his arms around him, hand pressing to the side of Sirius' head and
pulling it down to rest on his chest snugly, comfortingly, a solid weight when everything else
around Sirius feels as though it's beginning to float away.

"You're talking now, and that's what matters," murmurs Remus, Sirius feeling his words vibrate
through his chest. It's like a lullaby to his body, like cradling arms rocking and soothing away the
terrible woes of the world around. "Just keep doing it, whenever you can, whenever you're able.
Just…talk to me when you need or want. I'll listen. I'll always listen to everything you have to say."

Sirius nods against him, suddenly unable to speak, but he thinks that's okay right now. He'd said
the important bits for the moment. So they sit, silence between them, letting the soft music flood
the empty spaces and fill them full, like a swelling crescendo, rattling through Sirius' heart and soul
and making him think better thoughts, happier things, hope-filled emotions and maybe something
he thinks it's far too soon to feel, but there regardless, just under the surface, clawing to make itself
known.

--------------------

As April progresses, slowly trekking its way towards May, Sirius continues his therapy with
Remus. They keep cycling, something Sirius finds he doesn't actually mind much like he'd initially
thought, not even when they get caught in a massive downpour with no way to take shelter from
the torrential sheets of rain barreling down over their heads. Remus looks more than a little put out
by the situation as they clamber from their bikes and trudge their way through the gathering
puddles of water at their feet.

But Sirius only laughs, dropping his bike and pulling Remus to him, ignoring the man's carefully
set rules for once in favor of kissing him, rain slipping over their skin, making it glisten and shine
like rippling rivers. Remus doesn't look so irritated afterwards, his fingers pushing back into Sirius'
drenched hair, shifting it out of his face, his lips connecting with Sirius' forehead tenderly,
reverently, and holding there for longer than usual. They stand in the rain and hold one another as a
few other parkgoers run about, scrambling for somewhere dry to remain until the onslaught ceases,
but Sirius and Remus don't much care in the moment. Their clothing squelches and sticks between
them, like it's trying to bond them together.

Sirius finds it increasingly more difficult to keep his hands from wandering during non-ideal times
the longer his therapy stretches on, fingers brushing skin while they're in the Playroom and Remus
is close. Sirius' eyes lock on him more and more, watching how the man moves, memorizing the
way his steps sometimes nearly skip when he's excited about something and trying to restrain it
back, the way his hands flex, bones and veins standing out prominently under freckled skin, how
his features pinch a little, brows knitting together, his tongue sometimes poking from between his
teeth as he concentrates on something important. Remus eyes him with gentle warning in return
whenever he notices, though he looks as dismayed and regretful as Sirius feels.

They still manage to hide it from Marlene and Rosmerta, though Sirius does wonder if Marlene
suspects. He catches the woman's eyes watching them sometimes, like she's trying to patch together
a puzzle with only a few missing pieces, gaze focused and curious. Sirius doesn't like lying to
them, and Remus doesn't either, more so than Sirius, the two women and Peter his primary people
in the world, the ones he's been able to rely on for most everything. Sirius can see the guilt of
hiding it away eating at his boyfriend a little more with each passing day, but Remus remains firm
in his stance that it's better this way. Sirius finds himself more and more reluctant to agree, but it's
Remus' career and friends and life, so he doesn't argue, though it sometimes takes a supreme effort
to hold back.

Near the end of the month, after a round of Sirius' continuing weekly scans and a bit of mumbled
testing on Remus' part over Sirius' knee, the man beams up at him from his crouched position on
the floor below him. He informs Sirius as he removes his brace with nimble fingers that unless
Sirius decides he wants it, he should no longer need the brace for everyday support. It surprises
Sirius, leaving him blinking at Remus as the man pushes himself back up to full height, but then
Sirius is beaming as well, not hesitating to wrap his hands around the other man's neck and pull
him down into a delighted kiss.

But on Wednesday of the following week, as Sirius is departing from Remus' flat that morning to
return home since Lily and Harry are there for the day, Remus tells Sirius to make sure he brings
his brace with him to his appointment. Sirius stares him oddly, but Remus only smiles at him in
return, a cryptic sort of expression, his eyes dancing wickedly. Both of Sirius' knees feel a little
weak beneath him, having nothing to do with his injury at all and everything with the man
currently pulling on his trainers as he balances on the arm of his sofa.

Sirius spends a glorious day with most of his family. Lily and he take Harry to a park so the boy
can run and play in the growing warmth of the sunshine. Sirius is able to walk around and keep up
with his godson, his gait almost normal, barely any limp remaining, something Sirius thinks is
phenomenal and astounding in its own right. At one point, he even nearly manages a slow trot to
keep up with the excited boy racing ahead of him along the pavements.

Sirius returns to Remus' building late that afternoon, though he's incredibly early just as he used to
be when Lily or James would drive him, hoping to steal some lengthy minutes away with the other
man in the confines of his office before his time slot truly begins and they're forced to return to the
carefully outlined rules Remus had set in place. Rosmerta smiles and waves at him distractedly
from her desk as he gathers paperwork from another patient when Sirius strolls past her. When he
approaches Remus' office door, he finds it cracked open a little, and he begins to push past it to step
inside but stops when tense voices reach his ears.

" – can't keep ignoring this," says Peter's voice, firm but like he's trying to force gentleness.

"I don't want to talk about this right now, Pete. Just drop it," comes Remus' reply, sounding mildly
irritated.

"You know, surprisingly enough, for the first time, I really don't care what you want, Remus,"
Peter nearly snaps. "You can't keep this up. If you're going to insist on carrying on with this, you
have to tell him. You can't keep lying about it. It's not fair to either of you."

Silence meets Peter's words and Sirius hears the man huff. Sirius doesn't know what to do. He's
insanely curious, he can't deny that, but he knows it's wrong and a violation of Remus' trust to
continue to listen to a conversation the man might not want overheard if his tone of voice is
anything to go by. But Sirius also can't retreat without Rosmerta seeing him and questioning what
he's been doing this long if he hasn't entered Remus' office. So Sirius stands still, rooted to the spot,
struggling with himself as he keeps listening just outside the door.

"I know you're happy," continues Peter when no reply from Remus is forthcoming. "I can see it
written on your face. I think you're truly happy for the first time since I've met you. And you've no
idea how happy that makes me. But Mo – for fuck's sake! Remus." There's anger and frustration in
Peter's voice now, wrenching Sirius back from the door a bit by the force of it, seeming to radiate
out and fill everything. "You cannot do this. It's going to end badly. You know it will if you keep
ignoring it. He deserves to know."

"I said not now, Peter!" shouts Remus suddenly, a loud thumping sound punctuating his words,
like he's slammed something down on his desk.

Sirius hasn't ever heard Remus so filled with rage before, not even during their own row after his
father had died. If Peter's anger had filled every empty space, Remus' floods and seeps, drowning it
all out, covering everything, every surface and person, bleeding and leaking between the cracks
that Peter's never had any hope of penetrating. A shudder of trepidation races down Sirius' spine as
it settles over him as well.

Remus' voice is calmer when he speaks again, though his words are clipped and tempered, stilted,
like his breathing is being controlled by a great amount of strength, like he's forcing himself to it.
"Sirius will be here soon. He's always early when he comes on his own," he says to Peter, and
Sirius can still feel it oozing from him, the frustration and remaining wrath. "We have to leave
directly after. We'll discuss this later, Pete."

Things are silent within the office for a while, Sirius waiting. He steps away from the door as
much as he can without Rosmerta seeing him around the corner, hesitating for another moment
before he noisily walks back up, making it seem as though he's just arrived. He taps on the open
door with the knuckles of two fingers, announcing himself before pushing it further open.

Both men's faces are strained once Sirius has full view of the room, still staring at one another but
looking up slowly as he enters. Remus' features instantly pull into an easy smile when he sees
Sirius, as though nothing's amiss, but Sirius can see the lingering tension around his eyes and
mouth.

"Hallo, Sirius," greets Remus, just as warmly as he ever has.

Peter takes a while longer to school his own expression into something less judgmental, but he also
smiles at Sirius, offering him a pleasant greeting. His eyes flicker back to Remus briefly, the upturn
at the corners of his mouth faltering only for a second before he's turning back to Sirius.

"Ready for a fun day?" he asks sweetly, innocently. Sirius is immediately on alert, seeing
something glittering wickedly in Peter's blue gaze. It still doesn't erase the tautness from his face,
but it seems as though he's trying to ignore it, so Sirius attempts the same.

"I – yeah, s'pose so," returns Sirius, his own gaze shifting between the two friends.

"Got your brace?" questions Remus, moving around his desk, away from Peter, putting distance
between them with a casualness that Sirius thinks seems too forced.

Sirius holds the black bit of fabric up in answer and Remus nods, looking pleased. "We're just
cycling again today, right? Why do I need this? You said I shouldn't need it much anymore." Peter
and Remus both chuckle a little to themselves, like there's some secret joke Sirius isn't
understanding. Peter's eyes shift up and hold on the ceiling as his smile pulls into a smirk. Sirius'
own eyes fix on the other two warily as Remus moves toward him, keys in hand. "All right, what
am I missing here?"

"Just call it a bit of insurance," says Remus in cryptic answer. He catches Sirius' chin between his
thumb and forefinger, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to Sirius' lips before he's turning him
and pushing him out of the office, Sirius sputtering in protest as they go. He can feel Peter's gaze
locked on their exiting backs.

It's not long after they leave that Sirius realizes they aren't cycling today, not that he'd had any
doubt after Remus' and Peter's reaction to his questions. They drive through the city in the opposite
direction of the park and bicycles for hire, Sirius shifting his eyes between the window and passing
buildings and Remus sitting to his right, brow furrowed as Remus smiles more brightly every time
he feels Sirius' suspicious gaze trained on him, though he refuses to answer any of Sirius' digging
queries.

They eventually park in front of a large glass building, Sirius leaning forward, ducking his head
and peering through the windshield at the sign overhead. "Why are we at the leisure center?" he
asks guardedly, already guessing he won't like the response, if he receives one at all. Sirius has
figured out how Remus works by this point.

As he'd suspected, Remus only smiles at him and slips from the car. He stands at the front and
beckons to Sirius with a motion of his head, his eyes dancing and glowing like fresh honey in the
still shining sun above him, freckles standing out over his pale skin like miniature treasure maps.
Sirius gets lost for a bit as he stares back at him, but Remus finally laughs, like he knows, rolling
his eyes and calling to Sirius from outside the car to get his arse in motion.

Sirius ignores the rising flush creeping over his neck and cheeks as he clambers out the door and
follows Remus inside the building. Once he realizes where he's being led as they navigate through
the center, Sirius stops walking, hanging his head and releasing a low groan.

"Every time I think you can't possibly astound me anymore with your next step in this physio
process of yours, somehow you still manage it," bemoans Sirius, though he still stands by his logic
that anything is better than the pedal boats, even this. "Remus. I don't think I've ever skated in my
life. This is going to be a disaster, you do realize, don't you?"

"Really?" says Remus in surprise, his eyebrows lifting high as he regards Sirius. "Not once?"

"Well, it's not as though the Blacks were ever clamoring for fun family-oriented activities, were
they? And Regulus and I were meant to maintain a proper outward appearance at all times when
we were kids. Even after, if you want to be prudent about it, but obviously that changed a bit
during school when their thumbs weren't pressed over me so much. But it's just not something
James and I ever did. Never really thought about it, honestly. We ran. That's what we did."

Remus hums, still studying Sirius contemplatively. "Good thing we're starting with the four wheels
before moving on to the in-lines, isn't it?" he comments lightly. Sirius fixes him with an
incredulously sour look and Remus belts out a sudden laugh. "You've got good balance, and you're
a quick study. You'll be fine. C'mon. Let's go hire some skates before all the kiddies start rushing
in."
Sirius groans again as Remus wanders away to the large, long desk, but Sirius follows him soon
after, leaning heavily on the counter as he eyes his boyfriend in discontent that he doesn't really
feel. Remus clearly tries to stifle a growing smile as he speaks with the man about their skates, his
eyes flickering to Sirius quickly before shifting back. There's some generic, socially acceptable
music playing from the speakers overhead and Sirius huffs, rolling his eyes.

Once they have skates in hand, they trail over to a set of seats near the partitioned rink, settling
down to pull off their own shoes. As Sirius laces up his skates, his eyes glance over the smooth,
round area of flooring in front of them. There are a few others skating around its edges, though
they're mostly alone, Sirius thinking Remus had planned their schedule well, leaving most of their
activities they ever did relatively unhindered by other people pressing in close or hovering nearby.
The song overhead shifts and Sirius is forced to relent on his previous judgement, this one not so
bad, sounding like something he might hear Remus play.

True that I saw her hair like the branch of a tree. A willow dancing on air before covering me
under cotton and calicos over canopy dapple long ago.

"Do you do this for all your patients?" asks Sirius curiously. Remus glances up at him as he ties off
his own laces, eyebrows knitting together as he hums in question. "The schedule thing, making
sure that wherever you go with someone, it's not crowded."

"Oh," says Remus, seeming a little surprised by the inquiry. "I – well. I try the best I can, of
course. It's difficult to do physio in places like this when there are loads of bodies around hindering
everything you do or causing distractions. I always reserve times at the pool for whoever I take
there. That's just easier. Less splashing." Remus provides him with a bright smile that Sirius returns
before the other man's shrinks a little. "But the other things, like the boats and the cycling through
the park and this…I'm not nearly as cautious with other people like I have been with you. I chose
Wednesdays for this specifically.

"When Peter and I were first sifting through your file before you came to see me," he continues, his
own eyes sweeping over the rink before them, watching a small girl and her father slowly making
their way around, the girl miraculously skating circles around the man, "I visited all these places at
different times, on different days. I rang around to the places I could, checked with the employees,
trying to figure out the least busy times. I was meticulous. I wasn't sure how your schedule would
match up in the beginning, but when you agreed to five-day weeks, I knew then Wednesdays
would be the best. Rosmerta handles all my scheduling, for everything. She always has since I
hired her, once she learned how I worked best. Except for you. You're the exception to that. I
designed your schedule myself after our first meeting."

"But why?" says Sirius in bafflement. "Why single me out? Why take so much more care with me
than anyone else?"

True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me, that the sound of the saw must be known by
the tree, must be felled for to fight the cold. I fretted fire but that was long ago.

Remus stares at him for a while, expression void of emotion, almost closed off again. It causes
Sirius to frown because that hasn't happened with Remus since the truth came out between them.
He'd remained open, offering, seemingly hiding nothing away. It sends Sirius off-kilter again, like
he's being lurched to the side and teetering. But then Remus' features are shifting as he angles an
obvious sort of look at Sirius.

"Because you're you," he replies simply. At Sirius' deepening frown, Remus' mouth twitches up in
the corners. "You play football professionally, Sirius. People know who you are, they recognize
your face, chant your name, know your nickname. They're invested in your life, probably too much
in certain cases." Remus' head tilts to the side just a little, his smile growing but remaining soft.
"I've realized since meeting you how easy that can be to forget at times. I don't think you're what
most people expect you to be."

With the roar of the fire, my heart rose to its feet like the ashes of ash I saw rise in the heat sitting
soft in the purest snow. I fell in love with the fire long ago.

Sirius blinks at him. He's right. It is easy to forget. Even living it as he does, Sirius mostly forgets
about it, because he's only ever himself. He's found himself at random moments while walking
through a park with Harry or browsing through a shop staring into the face of someone who clearly
recognizes him, knows who he is, and he's confused, wondering how before he remembers.

"I wasn't just parroting your words back to you, Sirius," says Remus softly, looking over at him
again, his hands resting on the hard plastic of the chair on either side of his thighs, leaning forward
just a little, shoulders relaxed. Sirius is caught, momentarily, by how beautiful Remus is, the flutter
returning to his stomach, insistent and surging up into his chest and throat. "You are an enigma.
The best sort I've ever found."

With each love I cut loose I was never the same, watching still living roots be consumed by the
flame. I was fixed on your hand of gold laying waste to my loving long ago.

And Sirius suddenly can't help himself. Finds he doesn't care that there's a child skating with her
father directly in front of them or a gaggle of teenage girls near the corner of the rink staring at
them and giggling or three bored looking workers wandering around the counter and the outer edge
of the rounded flooring. Sirius wraps his hand around the back of Remus' neck and kisses him hard,
passionately, all his own unspoken words filling in the spaces left between and around them,
drowning them under their weight and desperate need.

Remus doesn't resist it, comes to him easily, like he's slotting in perfectly, and Sirius doesn't think
he'll ever stop being amazed by the elegant grace of it all. Fingers slip around his waist, pressing
against the small of his back and pushing, bowing Sirius closer to him, like Remus needs more,
can't get enough, not ever. And Sirius feels that in his bones, nesting so deeply it's like their
cracking and mending all over again as it tries to escape to see the light of day, the light of Remus
in front of him and around him everywhere.

So in awe I stood there as you licked off the grain, though I've handled the wood I still worship the
flame. Long as amber of ember glows, all the wood that I'd loved is long ago.

The fingers of Sirius' free hand dance over the side of Remus' face as he stares into brown eyes
with his own desperately searching grey ones. "How are you this?" he begs. When Remus' brow
furrows a little in puzzlement, Sirius shakes his head a little. "This," he says more insistently. "This
good, this bright, this amazing. You're just – you're just…" Sirius' eyes shift over him again as
Remus stares at him with unreadable expression, eyebrows still knit together. "Perfect. You're
perfect."

Remus looks at him, something like sadness settling in his gaze, his fingertips tapping out the
rhythm of the music overhead across Sirius' back with almost unconscious movements. "I'm not
perfect, Sirius," he whispers, barely audible over the noise around them. "Far from it."

And it's not tonight where I'm set alight, and I blink in sight of your blinding light. It's not tonight
when you hold me tight, and the fire bright, let it blaze. But you're good to me.

Sirius shakes his head again. "You're as close to perfect as any thing or one could get, Remus." The
other man still looks sad and guarded, like he's trying to hold something in. Sirius wants to push at
it a little, find out what it is, crack that box open and peek inside, but he doesn't. Instead, he kisses
him again, softer this time, lips lingering and pulling a little as they finally separate.

Remus' smile returns easily as he lifts the brace between them. "Come on, let's get this on," he
urges, slipping from the chair and crouching in front of Sirius as he adjusts the brace around his
knee. He must sense Sirius' coming question because he says, "You probably won't need it every
time we do this. Just the first couple times until I see how you handle it. I want to give you some
extra support. No more accidents."

"I'm actually a little surprised you risk this at all," muses Sirius, watching Remus' fingers work
over the straps of the brace. "The bikes were one thing, but this seems…I don't want to say
dangerous for people with injuries. But, well…dangerous. Risky. Not that I'm complaining. All
right, yes, I suppose I am, a little, but not about that bit. More about the fact that I don't know what
the fuck I'm doing."

Remus smirks up at him. "Yes, well. I'm cautious," he responds, pulling a black bundle from his
pocket, Sirius staring at it curiously. "And you'll figure it out, I have complete faith in you." He
unwraps the bundle and Sirius gawks when he sees they're knee pads, Remus immediately slipping
them into place around Sirius' legs.

"I really dislike you sometimes," mutters Sirius, absolutely enamored and not hiding it at all.

"No, you don't," counters Remus knowingly, grinning up at him before he stands and takes Sirius'
hands in his. "Up you go, there's a good lad."

He pulls Sirius up with one purposeful tug, Sirius wobbling a bit as the wheels roll beneath his
unsteady weight. Remus immediately wraps his arm around his back, keeping him up and
supported while he gains his balance.

"I'm not going to let you fall, remember?" says Remus, his tone puckish, eyes dancing as he stares
down at Sirius.

Sirius huffs and grumbles under his breath, but he smiles around it as Remus laughs in front of him,
the sound shaking through Sirius' body in a wonderful way. Remus eventually steps back a little,
keeping his hand firmly on Sirius' upper arms, holding him upright but giving him space to try to
work out how the skates would cooperate under his feet. Sirius shifts a little, testing his balance,
the wheels seeming to hold for a second before they're rolling beneath him, Sirius throwing his
arms outwards at his sides instinctually, Remus' hands following, still gripping with cautious
fingers.

"How the fuck does anyone manage this?" mutters Sirius, staring down at the skates like they've
wronged him.

Remus chuckles. "You're a professional athlete, Black," he teases, eyes dancing behind his lashes.
"I think you'll be fine once you get your legs about you. Here, hold onto me." Sirius grips his
fingers around Remus' forearms just below his elbows, Remus' hands cupping around Sirius' own
elbows in a sure hold. He takes a step back and says, "Move one leg forward, get a feel for them."

They work like this for a while, Remus skating backwards as Sirius rolls his way after him across
the carpeted floor outside the rink. When Sirius finally thinks he's got his balance about him over
the wheels, Remus slowly releases him but remains close, one hand held out, ready to catch him
should Sirius begin to fall. He shifts forward a little, testing himself, gaining confidence as he
moves, Remus following along close at his side, his small smile growing the further Sirius goes,
the straighter his back becomes with each successful move.
Sirius eventually beams at Remus beside him, saying he's ready, and Remus laughs, motioning
with his head toward the rink. They move around the hard floor cautiously at first until Sirius feels
sure of himself, then they skate more easily, Sirius beginning to sway with it as he watches the way
Remus shifts his own body with each push of his feet.

"This is fun," comments Sirius after a long while, "but what's the point of it? I get the bikes and the
swimming. I even understand the bloody pedal boats, though that'll never make me like them any
more than I ever have. But this seems…I dunno. Too easy."

"Yes, because the swimming and pedal boats and cycling were so challenging for you," returns
Remus caustically as he glances over at Sirius with a smile.

"Well," mumbles Sirius, "the pedal boats definitely were. Especially the bloody pig."

Remus only rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh. "You'll never let that go, will you?" Sirius only shakes
his head with a wide grin and Remus snorts in amusement. "This isn't all that different from the
bikes. It works your entire body, not just the legs. It shifts your weight from side to side. Notice
how you're swaying as you move now? Yeah, like that," chuckles out Remus as Sirius leans into it
a little more, being theatrical with his glides. "It encourages your balance to return in a safe way,
readjusts your body's already reprogrammed thinking of how it should be moving after so long
accommodating for an imperfection it hasn't always had. It strengthens the muscles and ligaments.
Skating does all sorts of fantastic things."

Sirius hums as he thinks about it. "That's all well and good, it really is," he says finally, "but what
about other injuries?" At Remus' quizzical gaze, Sirius elaborates. "Say someone came to you with
a bad shoulder or something. Swimming would probably help, but I can't see this or the pedal boats
going far for it. What do you do with them?"

"Oh, lots of things," answers Remus once he understands. "But upper body injuries tend to lead to
one thing. Racketball." He grins as Sirius gapes.

"You mean the…?" Sirius trails off as he mimes swinging a racket with his empty hand.

"Yes. Large room, four walls, and squashy ball," supplies Remus happily. "Works everything the
proper amount."

Sirius blinks at him and then shakes his head. "You're astounding," he murmurs, and Remus' grin
broadens as he tugs Sirius to move a little faster, skating to the beat of the staticky, horrible music
playing overhead.

--------------------

When Friday arrives, Sirius finds himself sprawled out over Remus' sofa within his office. The
others are gone for the day already, Sirius and Remus having already disinfected the Playroom so
that wouldn't have to return during the weekend to do it. Now, Sirius waits as Remus finishes up
his usual paperwork before they depart, Sirius' thoughts on dinner and after dinner, slipping away
to Remus' bed even as his stomach growls a little.

Remus once again has music playing, the notes and lyrics spreading through the room easily.
Sirius' legs sway back and forth, his eyes closed as he sings along with every one he knows and
even the ones he still doesn't. When the song shifts and Tidal Wave begins to play, Sirius grins,
eyes still firmly closed, and sings louder.

"Take me down in a tidal wave. Take me down when I'm wired," he croons without care for his
horrendous voice, humming in between happily. "I am everything you wanted. I am everything you
need."

He feels Remus' eyes on him, hears the faint chuckle from the other man, and Sirius grins without
looking at him, knowing Remus can see it. "I really love this one," offers out Sirius, though he
knows it's pointless to say so.

"I know you do," responds Remus, sounding pleased. "I'm happy you've taken to them as much as
you have. My mum would love it, the fact that they're spreading, even if only a little." Sirius hums
at the easy way the words are said, the gentle cadence to Remus' voice, soft and clear and warm.
It's a while before he speaks again, his tone shifting a little. "Did you ever…find that song, the one
by them I told you about?"

Sirius finally opens his eyes, turning his head on the cushion to look at him. "Your favorite, you
mean?" Remus doesn't respond, only gazing back at Sirius, his expression looking somewhat
guarded. "No. I gave up, if you really want to know. I've listened to all their stuff over and over
again. Figure it doesn't matter much anymore, does it? You'd either tell me or it would just jump
out at me one day after I stopped searching."

Remus nods slowly and then he sighs. "Probably for the best, honestly. It's not even my favorite
anymore. Hasn't been for a long time."

Just a little rush, babe, to feel dizzy, to derail the mind of me. Just a little hush, babe. Our veins are
busy but my heart's in atrophy. Any way to distract and sedate, adding shadows to the walls of the
cave.

Sirius' eyes fix on him for a moment as the song finally shifts before he's pushing himself up and
standing. "Really, Remus?" he says, head tilting a little as he approaches the other man, strolling
around the side of the desk. "What's your new favorite then?"

Remus' gaze flickers up to him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Itching for another
game there, Padfoot?"

A thrill races through him at Remus' use of his nickname, something that always pulls at
something rooted deeply inside himself. It's a rare thing, the name on his lover's tongue, but Sirius
loves it all the more when it comes. He reaches down, hooking his fingers around the armrest of
the man's chair, rolling him backwards from the desk, and then Sirius lowers himself down into
Remus' lap, finding himself grateful for the first time that Remus has a rather large, plush office
chair. The other man's hands lock around his hips, holding him in place, keeping him from slipping
to the floor, his expression unreadable as he stares up at Sirius but black slowly eating away the
brown of his irises.

Something isn't right, babe. I keep catching little words but the meaning's thin. I'm somewhere
outside my life, babe. I keep scratching but somehow I can't get in.

"Maybe I am," murmurs Sirius, leaning down until their noses are almost touching, hot breaths
ricocheting between them. "Wanna play, Remus?"

Remus slowly closes his eyes, his tongue darting out, licking over his lips. Sirius smirks.

"No," says Remus finally, his voice several octaves lower and rumbling in his chest, sounding like
it's taking a great effort to say the word at all. Sirius leans back a little, watching him as Remus
opens his eyes. "We are grown men. Adults. We're going home soon. We can restrain ourselves a
little longer. We are not having sex in my office again."
Sirius mentally steps over the pleasurable thoughts that whine happily in his brain when Remus
says home, shrugging his shoulders and relenting with a muttered, "Okay." He pushes himself from
the other man's lap, standing and then sitting on the edge of Remus' desk beside his paperwork,
legs dangling, toes barely brushing the floor. He motions to the surface with a casual hand.
"Continue."

Remus narrows his eyes at him as Sirius stares down at his boyfriend, one eyebrow cocked, smile
barely present and lopsided. His grey gaze doesn't break from brown as he settles his hands on
either side of his hips, curving his spine forward in a lazy posture.

Darlin', don't you stand there watching. Won't you come and save me from it? Darlin', don't you
join in. You're supposed to drag me away from it.

"You are," says Remus, his voice nothing more than a growl now, "completely unfair." He stands
from his chair suddenly, stepping up to Sirius, slotting himself between relaxed thighs. "And too
bloody sexy to be real."

Sirius grins and then he's laughing as Remus grips his hips and pulls him forward, a slight gasp
emerging between the noises as they connect. But Remus swallows both sounds with a desperate
kiss, hands forcing his shirt over his head, sending black hair flying as Sirius mimics the
movements. Fingers claw down the skin of Sirius' back, and he pushes forward against Remus
under the feeling, nearly delirious with it. Then they're hooking over his waistband and pulling, not
even bothering with the button or zip, though they get caught on his hips. Sirius releases the hold
he has around Remus' sides to help, opening his jeans and then lifting himself up from the wood
surface under him so that they can be removed the remainder of the way.

Any way to distract and sedate, adding shadows to the walls of the cave.

His own fingers immediately find Remus' trousers, working them off quickly, mouth latching over
the skin of his shoulder as the other man bends, searching blindly through the drawer between
Sirius' ankles as his own lips and teeth sink into the flesh directly above his moon tattoo. Remus
returns soon after, pulling Sirius forward a little more with one arm and then there are fingers
pushing inside him, the fairer man holding him close, mouth drifting over Sirius' neck, trying to
devour his low moans through his skin.

It feels like no time at all before Sirius is pleading with him in broken, half existent whispers. The
fingers slip away but then Remus is there again, Sirius locking around him with arms and legs,
pulling him close, the desk rattling under them as they gasp and hiss and release mumbled praises
and sweet but frantic, needing words.

When they finish, they're panting on the floor, Sirius staring at the ceiling, Remus stretched out the
length of him, pressing against his overheated side. Sirius feels nearly numb to all but that, skin on
skin, warm, hot, blazing beside him, his brain almost wiped clean of all else except near perfect
bliss and one thing.

He laughs breathlessly, his chest rumbling with it, eyes still fixed above him. "What's your favorite
song, Remus?" says Sirius through a wide but lazily pulling grin.

Sedated, we're nursing on a poison that never stung. Our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum
of it. Some whiff of this, death and guts. We are deaf, we are numb. Free and young and we can
feel none of it.

Remus rolls, half his body settling over Sirius'. He stares down at him, fingers brushing tenderly
over the edges of his hairline. "All of them," he answers, face open, expression enamored, causing
Sirius' already rapidly beating heart to pound louder and more insistently. "Every single one that
reminds me of you."

He kisses him then, Sirius sinking into it, falling and falling and falling but never landing, that
same feeling creeping back in, trying to settle, attempting to take him over. And maybe Sirius lets it
in a little this time, only enough to warm everything inside him just a touch more from the heat
Remus already sears him with at every look or spoken word or gentle press of hands.

--------------------

A fortnight later, James takes a week holiday from work, so Sirius spends most of that time with
him and Harry at home, though this leaves his every night free for Remus, the two nestling away
inside the other man's flat. On Wednesday, it's a nice day, the sun shining overhead and only a few
sporadic clouds in existence, so they pack Harry up and take him to the park, the boy full of
boundless energy, Sirius and James chasing him constantly.

They return home in the early afternoon, Harry still squirming and restless, rambunctious. He's
talking fast as the three of them enter the house, though yawns begin to break their ways through
somewhere in the middle of his chatter. Sirius is exhausted, James as well, both dragging over the
threshold of the door behind the boy. Sirius wonders when they'd began feeling the old, when their
own almost never-failing energies had began to wane a little.

"I wanna go camping," announces Harry once the door is closed and he's on the floor pulling off
his muddy shoes.

"Camping?" cries Sirius faintly, dumbstruck, James only staring down his son, looking mystified.
"Where would we camp?"

"Back garden," says Harry, looking as though he's given the matter a great deal of thought, causing
Sirius' eyebrows to arch. His godson suddenly smiles up at them impishly, looking exactly like
James when Sirius had first met him. "We'll be close to the snacks and all my toys there."

Sirius barks out a laugh as James chortles beside him. "We'll see, Harry," his father tells him.

Harry's green eyes shift between them for a moment before landing on Sirius. "Remus can come,"
he provides easily.

The laughter dies in Sirius' throat, his expression changing to something resembling wonder as he
stares down at his godson. "You really like Remus, don't you, Harry?" he asks softly.

"Yes!" chirps Harry, clambering up from the floor in the sloppy way only children can. "He makes
good games and does good voices when he reads."

James glances over Sirius who can do nothing more than beam at the child standing in front of
him. "Maybe we can camp this weekend, Harry," offers James, a small note of question in his
voice, directed toward Sirius. "We'll see if Remus in interested, all right?"

Sirius nods immediately in answer and Harry cheers happily, clapping his hands. James huffs in
amusement, Sirius beginning to calm a bit and his exhaustion returning as the boy trails into the
sitting room. He glances up to the ceiling before looking at James.

"Think I'm going to go up for a while before I have to go to my appointment," he tells his friend.

James sighs tiredly, pushing a hand through his hair, scattering the locks into chaos. "Yeah," he
agrees. "Gonna see if I can get Harry to take a nap and then I'll probably do the same."
"Aww, Daddy," comes Harry's morose voice from the other room. "I don't wanna take a nap."

"Well, Daddy does, so let's just…lay still for a bit, yeah?" says James to his son as he wanders into
the sitting room as well.

Sirius snickers to himself as he mounts the stairs and journeys to his room. Once there, he drops to
his bed, sprawling out, groaning a little. He feels like if he was still running across a pitch on an
almost daily basis, his body wouldn't currently feel as though it had been put through a meat
grinder. Sirius tries to close his eyes, but it's too quiet, so he rolls to his back and digs his phone
from his pocket, connecting it to his speaker and starting the playlist he'd made for the party on a
random song. Then he sinks back down, the music immediately helping him to relax the remainder
of the way.

His mind is just beginning to slowly slip away into a doze when a new song starts, and Sirius' ears
perk up, recognizing it as the one that had played when he'd been on the sofa with Remus
downstairs. He tunes into the words this time, determined to finally truly listen to it with nothing
around to distract him.

Your eyes are aglow. They look like two ghost lamps, but your soul keeps sinking. No way to go,
backward or forward. I could never tear you away. There's no use, the language you're speaking
doesn't make sense. You got caught right at the beginning. I could never tear you away.

Even at a low volume, the beat vibrates through the floorboards of the room and up over the bed.
Sirius drifts into it a little. He thinks he likes it all right, but it pulls memories to him that he'd
rather keep buried, old, dusty things he rarely takes out anymore, remnants of his family and his
beginning years in school.

How did you get so far from home, dear? You were just getting started. How did you get so far
from home now? Well, it's hard to explain. Yes, it's hard to explain. I know it's hard to explain.

Sirius slowly sits up as the lyrics flood through him, settling deeper. Something plucks cruelly at
his mind, a nagging thing, insistent and refusing to be silenced again. He'd listened to this with
Remus the first time in the man's car on their way to the pool, directly before their conversation
about his favorite Longwave song. And later, when Sirius had brought it up again, Remus' words
had seemed so sure, so certain. I know for a fact you've already heard it once.

But on your face, I can see it glowing. And all your thoughts are going back to the place where you
once were golden, but somewhere you were broken along the way. Never tear you away. I could
never tear you away.

Sirius' eyes drop to the floor, narrowing as the meaning behind it sinks in and builds, festering
under his skin, spreading outwards like acid creeping. It bubbles through his veins, strips them
down to nothing, leaving sludge-filled dust behind.

You gotta get back where you started before it's too late. Your eyes are aglow. Maybe they're
headlights coming out of the dark.

He'd known from the beginning that whatever song Remus had been referencing was about him.
And Sirius is angry.

--------------------

"What the fuck are you playing at?"

Remus' head snaps up in startlement as Sirius storms into his office, kicking the door closed
violently behind him with one foot. The other man stands as he approaches the desk quickly, rage
seeping from him, Sirius' entire body shaking with it.

"Sirius, what – ?"

Sirius throws his phone down on the desk in front of Remus, the man flinching a little at the harsh
action. "Tell me I'm wrong," hisses Sirius, glaring and incensed. "Tell me that's not it."

Remus looks down at the phone in bafflement, eyes landing on the song scrolling across the
screen, and then he stills, his entire body freezing like Sirius has coated him with thick ice. Even
his chest doesn't move, no breath seeming to leave or enter him as he continues to stare at the
phone screen, his expression blank, though Sirius can see his eyes filling with dread.

Sirius waits for what feels like ages and eons, time stretching out between them and becoming
nearly meaningless. When Remus finally speaks, voice small, nothing more than a whisper, Sirius
feels it all snapping into play again, like a band pulled too tight and breaking, cracking the air with
a sharp, blistering sound and sting.

"You're not wrong."

"Where the fuck do you get off?" demands Sirius in a growl. "You don't know me well enough to
judge me and you certainly didn't back then. What the hell did you know about me to decide that
this was the best way to represent me in your life?"

"Sirius – " Remus tries to reason quietly. He still hasn't looked up from the phone.

"Don't," snaps Sirius, speaking over him. "Don't, Remus." He feels as though something is
crushing him, bearing down and bending his spine into something unrecognizable. His chest is
heaving with anger and hurt, unable to control his breathing as it all mounts higher and higher.
"You don't know me!"

"I know you, Sirius," says Remus, and his voice is a wisp of a thing, resigned and ragged, like he's
saying goodbye to something that's breaking him into pieces with each spoken word. "I knew you
then and I know you now." He finally lifts his head and meets Sirius' gaze, his eyes filled with
sadness and pain and so much longing it nearly breaks Sirius, too. "I have known you, and I have
loved you since I was thirteen."

Sirius' breath snags and catches at the base of his throat at the admission, but he can't focus on it
entirely with everything else swirling viciously around it. The rest of it doesn't make sense, won't
land and rest so that Sirius can pick through it.

"What are you – ?" But he stops as pieces begin to fall into place like a jigsaw attached to magnets,
pulling together so simply, so easily, he feels foolish for never seeing it before.

It was exactly like that. Like the sun breaking through the clouds and turning everything golden,
hazy and slightly confusing, bursts of silver lining the edges.

Remus' face shining with recognition when they'd first met, Sirius' instant trust for him that had
surprised him so much because he's never trusted anyone easily. Remus' words about his
appearance. Ghostly, mysterious eyes. Eyes like headlights. Your eyes are aglow. They look like
two ghost lamps. Another voice, younger, so shy, saying the same thing. Your eyes are like ghost
lights. They're nice.

I'm saying that loving you is probably like watching massive destruction in reverse. Hundred car
collision on the motorway, all spinning backwards. Sirius had been so confused, but now it sits
perfectly, his breath still caught, trapped, can't get past his closing throat. Biscuit? The print that
had always reminded him of quiet, shared conversations in a village, sitting on low stone walls or
small benches, laughter and melancholy invading and warring for fingerholds.

Biscuit? he'd offered to a too thin, shabby boy with beautiful brown eyes and a sad face that Sirius
knew reflected his own. Those same eyes staring at him as hands had pinned him gently to a wall
between two buildings, wet, sloppy lips pressing to his own, sending his brain into a confusion so
great it had changed his entire life forever.

And Sirius can see it now, can't believe he never had before. He's different now, still lanky but not
nearly as thin, muscle and sinew taking its place, filling him out, sculpting his face. Hard, sharp,
detailed lines existing where they hadn't before. But those same brown eyes, warm and fluid like
summer honey, looking back at him now, filled with that same immeasurable sadness as they'd
been so many years ago.

"Moony."

Remus continues to stare at him, not speaking, face closing off but also remaining so very open,
like he's struggling with himself to keep it all in while wanting desperately to let Sirius see
everything. It's the strangest expression Sirius has ever seen, but he can't really focus on it for long,
his heart feeling like it's been ripped out of his chest and shredded.

"I trusted you," he says, and his tone is flat, void of emotion because there's too much of it to
release only a small amount. "Why didn't you tell me? I talked about Moony so much. You knew
what it meant to me. You should have told me."

Sirius watches as the knot in the center of Remus' throat bobs as he swallows roughly, like he's
trying to unstick something lodged there, just like Sirius' is clogged with nothing and everything all
at once.

"I didn't think you remembered," he murmurs. "We ran into one another at that shop, and I
instantly knew who you were, but there wasn't the slightest bit of recognition in your eyes. And
then you came here, and I waited. There was something, a flicker, but it was because of the shop,
not the village. So I told myself it hadn't mattered to you, that it wasn't important anymore. I let it
go. But then you brought it up, you started talking about it, about me to me, and you still didn't
know.

"What was I supposed to say, Sirius? 'Hi, it's me, Moony. I remember you but you clearly haven't
remembered me. Happy it wasn't nearly as important to you, but here I am again, intruding in your
life.' I panicked. I didn't know what to do, so I kept quiet about it, just listened. I thought it was a
passing thing, just something that had pulled up from your memory. And then you didn't bring it
up again, not for so long. But I was content to just listen again, though I'll admit, the biscuits were
me hoping you'd realize without me telling you. It didn't work. Nothing worked and I couldn't
bring myself to come out and say it, but then you were talking about the kiss and how terrible it
was. I froze again. Because there you were, telling me it was the best you'd ever had, that you'd
never forgotten it, not for a second, and I just…I wanted you so badly, but I'd gone and drawn all
these lines and things had been going for far too long to come out with it."

Sirius is shaking his head against it all, taking a step back, Remus watching him even as he
continues. "I never knew your name," he says, almost pleading now. "My mum had her accident
and we packed up and moved so quickly. I couldn't go to the school and track you down. Visitors
weren't allowed, not like that, and what was I to say to anyone? That I was looking for someone
named Padfoot? They would have chucked me out instantly, told me I was mad.
"So we left and I was wrecked. Wrecked over my mother and the guilt of it all and wrecked over
losing you, because you had been the best thing in my life. When I was old enough to travel on my
own, I went back to the village, walked around all day, just hoping you'd be there, hoping I'd
somehow run into you, but you weren't. I went several times, but you were never there. So I gave
up, I pushed you out of my mind. I made friends, something I'd never had before other than you.
But you'd shown me there was merit in myself, that people could like me if I just opened up a little
more, didn't keep to myself so much, stopped mooning about all the time.

"I went to university and met Peter and other people that liked me for who I am, who accepted all
the faults and the rough upbringing and the tragedies. And there we were, sitting in a pub,
watching a match on the telly, not really paying much attention, and I heard it. Padfoot. Everything
in me went cold, like someone had dropped me in an icy lake. I looked up and there you were. You
hadn't changed, just grown, came into yourself more. It was you. Sirius Black. That was your
name. And I couldn't believe my luck.

"I didn't know what to do with it, couldn't wrap my head around it. All that time, all those years,
and I'd found you again, but you hadn't found me," chokes out Remus. "I told myself you didn't
care anymore, that I hadn't mattered nearly as much to you. You'd only been kind, nothing more.
But I kept track of you. I watched all your matches when I could. I watched the interviews, read the
articles and hated most of them because they weren't you or they had no business broadcasting
what they were. And then, suddenly, here you were, and you'd found me. And you didn't even
remember when you did."

"Is that why you agreed to take me on?" demands Sirius, nothing Remus has said making him feel
any less hopeless. "Because you knew who I was?"

"No," says Remus immediately, firmly. "I never look at patient names when reviewing cases. Just
age, gender, past injuries, professions. Only the things that will affect treatment. I had already
agreed to take you when Peter told me your name. I walked into that first meeting with you a
nervous wreck. You're the reason my whole day was thrown off. I didn't sleep the night before. I
spilled tea on myself because I was shaking too badly to hold it still. And when I realized later in
the day the shirt I'd grabbed in my haste to rush out the door, I nearly broke down because it just…
it just had to be that. For you, it wouldn't have made sense for it to be anything else."

Sirius can't stomach any of it. He can't think clearly. Everything is turning black around him, filling
in all the warm, glowing spaces with darkness, voiding them until they're empty again, until he's
reverting back to his previous self, alone and drifting and not worth anything at all. It floods and it
swells and then it breaks the walls down, ripping out of him in a rush of fury and hatred and so
much hurt he thinks it might pull him down and drown him completely.

"You lied to me!" he roars. "I trusted you and you lied to me! How the fuck could you do this,
Remus? I don't understand. Why would you do this? We were good. If you'd just told me, I would
have been upset, probably angry, but I would have let it go eventually."

"I never lied to you, Sirius," whispers Remus. "I just never said anything about it."

"Are you joking?" cries Sirius, words sharp and stinging, his bafflement and anger rising higher.
"It's the same fucking thing, Remus!" Remus winces, flinches away again, just a little. Sirius stares
at him, eyes hard, face twisted, heart breaking. And then he deflates, the fight going out of him,
giving up just as he'd given up so long ago, the first time he'd lost the other man to the unknown of
the world around them. "I can't do this. I can't – can't even look at you. I'm done."

Sirius turns on his heel and storms from the office, anger, hurt, and confusion swirling around like
a vicious storm. Remus lets him go, doesn't try to stop him, doesn't run after him. He does exactly
what he'd told Sirius he would do. He gives Sirius what he wants.
 Grief, Running, & Silent Threats
Chapter Notes

Not going to lie, editing is a little...lax on this one. Please ignore any glaring mistakes.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"I don't understand," says James slowly, trying to make sense of things.

Sirius doesn't speak, only staring out the dark windowpanes on the back door leading to the garden.
It had taken James a long time to get Sirius to say anything at all upon returning home. He doesn't
even recall how he'd got here, doesn't remember his drive through the city streets and back into
Putney. One minute he'd been staring at Remus' regretful, shattering face and the next James had
been on him, frantic hands fluttering around Sirius but not touching as Sirius had backed away from
him and ran directly into the closed door.

He'd been too trapped in it, still is, the betrayal laying thick and heavy, coating everything in a
horrible film that sticks and won't let go when touched. Remus' words, his admissions, and the
realization of all he'd lied about for so long stings every part of Sirius, his skin and insides feeling
raw with it, burning, blistered, flesh searing from his bones and melting away, leaving nothing
behind but misery.

Lily had come home to the scene of Sirius and James on the sofa in the sitting room, Sirius staring
unseeingly at the empty fireplace, James gazing at his friend with heavy, overwhelming concern,
Harry on the floor with his toys, watching the two, his small face pinched with trepidation. She'd
pulled James away, spoken to him in the kitchen, away from Sirius, saying things he couldn't hear
and hadn't much cared about before making dinner for Harry.

It's only now, much later, Harry fed and clean and put to bed, Lily's perfect tea filled with honey in
front of him at the kitchen table, that Sirius has finally managed to tell them everything. Lily sits
beside him, close but not too close, staring at him with disbelieving eyes. James stands across from
him, hands gripping the back of his chair, leaning forward a little, trying to make sense of it all.

"The dog you found in the village at school, the one that you gave the biscuits to, the one you kept
seeking out every time you went…wasn't as dog. It was a kid named Moony, who is actually
Remus," continues James, words still slow as he attempts to piece it all together, this complicated,
complex puzzle that's somehow become Sirius' life and has been his life since he was thirteen.
"You'd go down to the village on your own or sneak away from us to find him. You spent months
with him, he mattered to you. He was your first kiss, and all of it was Remus?"

James looks baffled and more than a little hurt. "Why wouldn't you tell me that, Sirius?" he asks
gently, trying to understand. "I wouldn't have judged you for it."

Sirius feels an immense wave of guilt wash over him as he stares up into his friend's troubled hazel
eyes. It surges through him, floods every part of him, crushes him down further than he'd thought
possible anymore.

"I don't – I don't know, James," he says in a small voice, feeling like a child being scolded, his
shoulders hunching with it. "I was scared. I didn't understand back then, and by the time I did, I'd
already fabricated this whole story for you and he was gone. I never thought I'd see him again. I
didn't think it mattered."

"If he was important to you, then it mattered, Pads," insists James, tone still soft. He sighs then,
hand pushing back through his hair before dropping to the chair again. "Why didn't he just tell you
when you first met? Why keep it from you? It makes no sense to me, not if you were important to
him, too."

"He had his reasons. Excuses. But they don't mean anything. He had ample opportunities to tell me,
and I would have taken it," mumbles Sirius to the table's surface, tea gone cold now and abandoned
in front of him.

"Sirius, maybe – "

Sirius' head jerks back up, eyes livid as he stares at his friend. "He lied to me, James!" he snaps
angrily. "For seven fucking months, he lied to me when he didn't have to. There's no maybe about
that. He did it. He made that choice. None of the rest of it matters now. He let me go on and on
about Moony, knowing it was him, knowing all he had to do was say it and I'd accept it, but he
didn't. He lied to me. He broke that trust. He wormed his way in close and then expected me to just
let it rest when I found out."

"But Sirius, you don't actually know that's what he – " begins Lily, moving in toward him, hands
raised in a comforting gesture, but Sirius flinches away when he sees them coming, fear and panic
surging through him at the advance in a way it hasn't in a while. Lily stops, hands frozen in midair,
her eyes glancing to James warily who stares at Sirius with growing worry spreading over his
features.

"I do, though!" rages Sirius. "It doesn't matter what he says, it's the only thing that makes sense. He
was using me or trying to target me for something or…or just trying to see how much he could get
out of me before he tossed me to the side. I don't know what he was trying to do but it doesn't
change the fact that he did it. It'll never change that. He took something I thought was good and he
broke it apart."

Sirius doesn't say he'd thought he'd be the one to do that, had been waiting on it since first meeting
Remus. It makes his head spin now at the way things had worked out, at the pure chaos that's
become his life. He doesn't know what to do anymore. Sirius feels himself sinking back into
everything, Remus having been the only thing that had really helped, but now he's gone. Sirius has
to banish him away from his thoughts and his heart and his soul because he can't bear to think
about any of it, everything shattered around him like glass bits strewn over the floor, crunching
under his boots, turning to dust with every delicate step he tries to take.

He'd started to think in a distant sort of way that Remus had been it for him. After all his time
resisting letting someone get too close, Remus had managed to work his way through the cracks of
Sirius' entire being, sitting firmly, snugly, slotting in perfectly in every conceivable way, not one
space left open to the stinging air, guarding him from the harshness of life surrounding him at
every turn. But that's all gone. Remus had wrecked it all, wrecked Sirius in a way he didn't think
possible anymore, not after everything else. And it hurts. It hurts so badly Sirius is beginning to
think he won't survive it for long, the weight of everything bearing down on him, breaking his
spine in half, bending and snapping his bones, crushing him into something mutated and
unrecognizable.

Sirius stands suddenly, shoving the chair out from beneath him with rough movements, the legs
scraping over the floor with harsh, jarring sounds. James and Lily watch him with nearly identical
looks of terror on their faces as he walks from the room, mumbling that he's going to bed.
Once outside the closed door, his legs stop working, Sirius slumping against the wall and sliding to
the floor. He keeps seeing Remus' guarded, closed off expressions, keeps hearing his voice
denying Sirius' claims of his perfection. He'd passed it all off as the man only being himself,
shyness still lingering under the surface, trying to hold himself back just a small amount. Sirius had
understood that, having always found it difficult to let his true self out with nearly everyone he'd
ever encountered until he'd met Remus. But it had all been a lie, either purposeful or by omission.
Sirius had trusted Remus, wholly and completely, more easily than he'd trusted anyone before,
even James.

"What do we do?" comes Lily's voice a while later. "How do we help him? James, I'm worried. I
don't know how well Sirius can handle this right now. Should we try talking to Remus? I know it's
a bad situation, but he obviously cares about Sirius, you can't deny that. You could see it when you
looked at him."

James' response is slow to emerge, and Sirius can picture him, still standing behind the chair, hands
gripping the wood tightly, staring at the closed door with a distant gaze and pinched expression.
"I'm not sure how much talking would help, Lils," he murmurs, an edge to his voice that's furious
and threatening. "I'm also not sure how much talking would happen if I came face to face with him
right now." James falls quiet for several long moments before saying in a regretful tone, "Sirius is
right. Remus did lie to him. Regardless of the reasons behind it, he had months' worth of
opportunities to speak up about it. But I don't know what to do either."

"Did you see his eyes?" asks Lily, sounding a little choked. "They were just…empty. I've never
seen him that hollow before, not even all the time he spent trying to contact Regulus before he
finally gave up. Not even after Gideon…" She clears her throat suddenly, like she's trying to push
something back with force. "We have to do something. This isn't good, James. I'm scared for him,
for what he'll do if it gets too bad. Remus has been…well, he's been this sort of saving grace for
Sirius. What's he going to do now without him? Now that he's the one that's caused the pain?"

"I don't know, Lily," says James wearily. His voice turns muffled, a small, slightly scratching
sound coming from behind the door, like he's scrubbing his hands over his face. "I don't want to
leave him alone, but I'm not sure how to go about that. Him staying with Remus most days worked
out well, but that's clearly not happening anymore, not that I'd let it. But I can't take much more
time off work. Things are beginning to ramp back up for the year and they need me there. You
don't have that luxury either, I know you don't. He could come with me, but I doubt he'll want to.
That'll be a fight I'm not looking forward to having."

Sirius hears James drop roughly into his chair, the legs scraping a little with the force. He bends
forward, pressing his face into his knees, willing his body to work, to move away from the door,
not wanting to listen to his friends talk about him anymore like he doesn't have a say in his own life
or what happens in it, like he's their second child that they always have to worry over, care for,
guide through the everyday sludge around them. Sirius is tired of feeling like a burden to everyone
around him.

"I feel so guilty," whispers Lily morosely. "I tried to push them to it. I was so certain they were
what the other needed. I thought they were perfect for each other. Sirius just gravitated to Remus so
easily. He's never done that before, not with anyone. He was finally happy, James. Or getting there.
The look on his face most days, especially when Remus was around or even spoken about…he just
glowed." She sounds miserable, voice filled with heavy sadness. "I'm terrified he'll never find that
again, that he'll never be happy, and I want that for him so very badly."

"So do I, Lils," agrees James. "And I'm scared, too. More than you know. We'll just…we'll watch
him. I'm home the next two days and through the weekend. We'll figure it out, see how he's doing.
Plan what to do come next week."

Sirius pushes himself up from the floor then, face twisted horribly, his chest feeling about ready to
burst from the pain of everything. He takes the stairs two at a time, ignoring the twinges radiating
through his knee. He locks himself away in his room and doesn't emerge until the following
afternoon when James finally forces him with coercion from Harry.

--------------------

James opens the front door after a knock sounds through the house on Friday afternoon, his face
immediately transitioning into hard lines, eyes narrowing, features stony. Remus stares back at
him, expression repentant and resigned, his brown eyes dulled to muted, dirty mud. He doesn't look
well, dark smudges lining the tops of his cheekbones like he hasn't slept, skin drawn and paler than
usual over his face, hair lank like he hasn't washed it properly, but James still thinks he looks far
better than Sirius, who's seemed to regress over the passing days, closing in on himself, sleeping
rarely and waking to growing nightmares that have raised him and Lily from their bed the past two
nights several times.

"You've got no business being here," says James in a restrained tone, trying to keep himself level,
his words clipped and blunt. "Sirius doesn't want to see you, and honestly, neither do I."

Remus winces at the mention of Sirius, but his mouth opens as he tries to speak. "I know. I – "

"Remus!"

James startles, seeing Remus do the same, at the loud shriek of the other man's name. He looks
down and watches as his son races past him and barrels into Remus' legs, wrapping his small arms
around them as much as he can, giggling delightedly. James resists the urge to reach down and pull
him back.

"H-hi, Harry," Remus gets out eventually, forcing a smile as he looks down at the boy and pats his
shoulder gently. "How are you?"

"Good!" cries Harry, bouncing a little, still latched around Remus' legs but bending back a bit so he
can gaze up at him with excited green eyes. "Padfoot, Daddy, and me are camping tomorrow in the
back garden. Are you coming? Padfoot said he'd ask. You're coming." His face transitions quickly
to something determined, like he won't take no for an answer.

Remus frowns deeply, his eyes flickering up to James briefly before looking back down. He
plasters on a fake smile as he says in a tone of forced buoyancy, "No, Harry. I'm sorry. I can't
come. I have…something else I have to do. But I hope you have a lot of fun. Make sure Padfoot
keeps you warm. He's good at that."

James looks away at the pain he can see on the other man's face and hear hidden away in his voice
as Harry complains loudly, holding tighter to Remus' legs. "Harry, go play in your room for a
while, all right?" he tells his son. "Daddy needs to talk to Remus for few minutes." Harry latches
onto Remus more tightly, his protests vocal and insistent, but James fixes him with a stern look.
"Now, Harry."

Harry wilts a little, his shoulders hunching. James feels wretched but he doesn't break from his
firm stare, needing Harry away from himself and the other man, not certain what's about to be said.
He watches as his son bids Remus a mumbled goodbye, sounding pitiful and morose, breaking
James' heart.
"Bye, Harry," murmurs Remus, watching the boy trail up the stairs sadly before his eyes drift and
settle back on James, looking wary and still very resigned.

James waits until he hears the snick of sound signaling Harry's bedroom door closing before he
demands in a low, accusing voice, "Why are you here?"

James watches as the other man shifts a bit on his feet, watches as his chest rises slowly when he
inhales a long, steadying breath. "You can't let him stop," says Remus finally. "He's so close,
James. If he stops physio now, his knee will degenerate, it'll get worse. He may not be able to walk
on it again. Don't let that happen."

"That's the least of Sirius' concerns right now as you well know," James nearly growls.

"So make it yours!" snaps Remus, but there's a pleading quality to his tone and eyes. "Don't let him
backslide because of me and my stupid mistake. Please." Remus seems to calm himself then,
returning to his more logical, contained state of being, his face closing off, locking away most of
his emotions. "Peter can treat him, if he'll agree. I'll keep my distance, stay away. He'll never have
to see me again."

"You're good at that," remarks James coldly. "Closing yourself off, reining it all in, hiding things
away. It's no wonder he never realized. You're a master at it, aren't you, Remus? Secrets."
Something pained flashes over Remus' face briefly before it's gone again as quickly as it had
appeared. "I'll see what I can do. Then we'll communicate with Peter if he agrees to it."

Remus hesitates for a few seconds before he nods once, a fast, jerking movement. He turns away
but James stops him before he can take a step to retreat.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" asks James irately, no longer able to hold his anger and
devastation for his friend at bay. Remus stops, his shoulders stiffening, but he remains facing
away, his back turned to James. "He trusted you. Immediately. That should have been his first clue,
but I think he looked past it because he liked you so much. He never trusts anyone, not after all his
family did to him, not after all the media shite constantly circling around his life like a vulture
waiting to pick his bones clean. It took me months to get him to trust me that way when we first
met. Months, Remus. But you…he trusted you instantly, not just seven months ago, but twelve
years ago, and he never lost it.

"Even after what Prewett did, when he could barely look at Lily or me, you were the one he leaned
on. He trusted you to lead him out of it, and you broke that. You broke him," hisses James harshly.
"I don't think he'll ever be right again. He thinks Gideon took something from him, but not like
this. You took something worse from him, stripped him raw. That can't ever be forgiven, Remus."

Remus stands on the step, back still to James. His shoulders shake with every breath he takes. He
finally turns, his movements slow, but instead of looking at James, his eyes fix on a point over his
own shoulder, his face opening back up, a ragged, desolate expression filling his features, regret
and longing and sorrow flooding his brown irises. James whips his head around quickly and his
breath snags in his throat when he sees Sirius looming in the open kitchen door, face a blank mask,
horrible, devasted, nearly hollow grey eyes planted firmly on the man standing in front of James.

"I know," whispers Remus, voice wrecked and a shell of its former self. "I'm so sorry." And James
knows the apology is angled at Sirius, having less to do with the words spoken to him before
Sirius' appearance had been noticed and everything to do with all the rest of it.

James hears Remus turn and walk up the path, hears his car rumble to life on the street and steer
away from the curb, but he doesn't look away from Sirius. He watches as his best friend in the
entire world closes his eyes as grief overwhelms him again, watches as he seems to curl into
himself further, retreat under the suffering and despair. James starts toward him, but Sirius takes a
step back when he hears his footsteps, turning and disappearing quickly out the back door. James
stops and stares after him, lost for what to do, not knowing how to help him, stuck, rooted in the
middle of his front hall, feeling useless and like a failure for allowing any of this to happen in the
first place.

--------------------

It takes nearly a week for Lily and James to finally convince Sirius to continue his therapy with
Peter. They spend hours talking to him, nudging the option his way until Sirius eventually shuts
down or walks away from them, the couple growing more wary around the eyes every time. But
when Sirius does cave and agree, he rings Peter himself, discussing it with the other man
begrudgingly. Peter assures him he can step in, that Remus will be nowhere around while Sirius is
present, that his appointment times haven't changed, and to come back whenever he's ready. Peter
will be there waiting for him.

So, Sirius sets his mind on starting as fresh as possible, returning the following Monday. Rosmerta
greets him cheerily when he enters and takes a seat to wait for Peter, though even she looks a little
cautious as she regards him as surreptitiously as she's able. It causes Sirius' skin to crawl, makes
him want to shout at the woman, but he bites it all down, staring at the opposite wall, purposefully
not looking at the corner that hides Remus' office until Peter emerges from down the hall,
beckoning Sirius to follow him.

"It's good to see you back, Sirius," attests Peter genuinely as they make their way down the hall to
the Playroom. Sirius only grunts in response and Peter glances at him from the corner of his eye.
"How are you? All right? Any pain in your knee? Twinges?"

Sirius can tell Peter is nervous but trying to act casual, though Sirius doesn't much care, the
prattling and forced levity setting his teeth on edge painfully. "It's fine," he mutters, though this
isn't strictly the truth. Sirius' knee has been spasming and aching for more than a week now, since
his confrontation with Remus, but he's been ignoring it.

Peter obviously doesn’t believe his words, but says nothing in reply, opening the door and holding
it as Sirius steps into the room with him. They move about and work in mostly silence, Peter
attempting to start up several conversations that Sirius all but ignores, a nearly permanent scowl
stretched over his face as his mind drifts until Peter seems to finally give up and falls quiet as well
for a while.

He can't stop thinking about all the little random moments and bits of things that hadn't made much
sense before, though he's trying desperately at all hours of the day and night. They flood through
him constantly, all the small lies and deceit he'd so easily fallen for, more and more puzzle pieces
falling into place with every passing day. Remus' sudden reluctance during their first pedal boat
excursion to Sirius finding the song they'd already spoken about numerous times before, the way
the man had closed himself off afterwards, made a promise that Sirius hadn't understood at the
time.

Sirius recalls Remus' surprise over the idea that he could have a child or a spouse, like the very
thought had thrown him off severely from some original thinking he'd dredged up from seemingly
nowhere. Sometimes luck isn't really luck at all. Sometimes luck is a hard-won thing. Remus had
said those words like he'd known, and Sirius now realizes that he had, that the man had been
speaking of more than just Sirius and his family struggles, publicized for the world to view so
heinously.
His mind continues to wander its way through it all, raking over the surface and then diving deep.
He uncovers more and more the longer he remains within it until his eyes are locking on Peter now
kneeling in front of him where they're positioned on the floor with the mats.

"All right to touch?" asks Peter, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers. At Sirius' distracted
grunt, Peter leans forward, his fingertips pressing against the skin of Sirius' knee. "Emmeline was
asking after you. She really liked you. Said you had good wit and…"

Sirius isn't listening, still staring at the other man, his eyes narrowing, mouth pulling into a thin
line. He remembers a conversation months ago, Marlene jumping in with a comment about Remus'
nickname and Peter scurrying in with an almost too casual answer, Remus' eyes filled with warning
as he'd stared Marlene down. Voices spring to Sirius' ears of an accidental overheard row between
Remus and Peter, the latter man's anger and frustration over some tightly guarded secret sending
him into a rage, Remus lashing out against him more violently than Sirius had ever experienced.

"You knew," says Sirius, his voice low and accusing, interrupting Peter's babbling. Peter looks up
at him in confusion, wariness crossing his features and flooding his eyes when he notices the
expression on Sirius' face. "About Remus and me when we were kids, you knew the entire time."

Peter studies Sirius for a while before he falls back onto his heels, eyes guarded but expression
resigned. "I did, yeah," he confirms. Sirius stares at him, silent and condemning, and Peter releases
a small, defeated sigh. He glances across the room where Marlene is situated with another patient,
her eyes flickering to them with odd looks periodically though she doesn't approach. Peter's voice
drops to a low murmur before he speaks again. "I tried, Sirius. From the very beginning, I tried. I
warned him, especially after you two…He knew what he was risking, but he was scared. That was
difficult to combat, no matter what I did."

"Scared?" snarls Sirius. "What the fuck did he have to be scared about? All he had to do was tell
me, Peter. That's it. If he'd done that, I would have been bloody hacked, yeah, but I would have
forgiven him."

"He was scared of you," says Peter, acting as though Sirius' tone hasn't fazed him at all, a deep
frown pulling over his face. Sirius stares at him in disbelief and mounting rage, and Peter huffs out
a breath of frustration. "I promised myself I was going to stay out of this. He made his bed. I know
he should have told you. So does he, and he's wrecking himself over it. He hates that he kept the
truth from you, Sirius, but to him, you were this larger-than-life thing. Untouchable for so long.

"I was there the day he realized who you were," continues Peter. "He'd told me about you, this
mysterious Padfoot he'd fallen for before he even really knew what that meant. He pretended like it
didn't matter anymore, just a passing thing, but his face that day when we saw you on the telly,
your name broadcast out over the speakers, cheers crackling so loudly it turned to static…I've
never seen Remus like that. Not before then and not since, until I looked at your file seven months
ago and told him who he'd accepted.

"And then, suddenly, here you were with him again. This legend of a person he'd spent nearly
twelve years building up in his head, placed on this dazzling golden pedestal." Peter looks over
Sirius sadly. "Remus' upbringing wasn't bright and filled with sunshine, Sirius. And I realize yours
wasn't either. So does Remus. But you found the love and care you'd been missing with James and
his family. Remus never did. His mum cared, but most of those memories are skewed now by guilt
over what happened to her. Lyall all but shunned him after she died. He was in it for her from the
beginning, never for Remus.

"His family struggled while he was growing up. They were poor. Lyall and Hope had trouble
finding work in the village or the areas surrounding it. Remus was looked down on during school,
mocked and mistreated. He never had friends, not until you, and then much later after that. Years
later. And even those were fleeting. Remus didn't have a true friend until he met me, and it took
him a long time to trust me. Sometimes he still struggles with that, even now.

"And then there you are, showing up beside him, offering him sweets he rarely got to have,
dropping down beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world when he felt like the
largest outcast," whispers Peter, his head bowing a little, like he hates thinking about Remus that
way. "He's this tiny, meek, shy little wisp of a thing who thinks no one other than his mother really
cares much about him, but you're just there, and you keep coming back. You astounded him. He
knew nothing about you then other than you belonged to the school on the hill that towered over
his small, inconsequential village and that you seemed to carry some of the same sadness he
always did. And then he lost you forever, or so he thought."

Peter pauses and sighs heavily again as Sirius watches him, saying nothing, drinking in the
information like a man bereft and wasting away until he's dust, scattering in the wind. "You can't
even imagine what it was like for him," voices Peter mournfully. "I don't doubt that you were
incredibly upset about losing him, but you were all he had, Sirius, other than his parents. He was
staring down the beginning of the tunnel that led to losing his mum, and he was alone through it
all. He tried to push you out of his mind, tried to convince himself it wasn't worth lingering on, but
you've really no idea how it hit him, once he realized exactly who you were. High standing family,
proper breeding, coming from money. You were talented, worshipped by so many, so successful.
Beautiful. To him, you've always been beautiful.

"In comparison to that, Remus still felt like this scrawny, lanky kid with no real value to anyone in
the world. And even after everything, all he's done and accomplished with so much hard work,
when you were suddenly surging back into his life like this gleaming idol of grandeur, he sank
back into those feelings, like he was worthless, like he could never compare or match up to who
you are and have always been. So, yes, Sirius. Remus was scared. He was terrified, and no matter
how well he'd known you before and got to know you now, that fear stayed. He could never shake
it away."

Sirius sits in stony silence, listening as Peter offers up so much information it makes Sirius' head
spin a little. It makes sense to him, all of it, but it also causes him to realize that even after
everything, all the passing months and time spent together talking and sharing bits of themselves,
Sirius still knows almost nothing about Remus and his life. He knows most everything of
importance about Sirius, whether through Sirius' own telling or other means, but Remus has kept
his own experiences held close, only allowing a few small tidbits of knowledge into the light about
his parents, his shyness, hinting at his lack of friendships, but nothing more. It's all shrouded in
secrets of the man's own construct, guarded back, shielded from reaching the air, never being
released.

"I understand all that, Pete," says Sirius finally, Peter watching him quietly as Sirius processes
through it. "I do, but he still should have told me. I never would have judged him for any of it, and
he knows that. I think he's known that from the beginning. He lied to me, and I can't trust him
anymore. Nothing you say can change that."

Peter opens his mouth to speak, lets it hang there for a few seconds before he closes it. His blue
eyes shift away, landing on the Playroom door leading to the hall, leading to Remus. He stares at it
for a while, looking woeful and defeated. When his gaze turns back to Sirius, he's mournful and
accepting.

"I know," he says softly. "I know, Sirius. So does he. Doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?" Peter
offers Sirius an incredibly sad smile. "I've liked having you in my life."
"I have no qualms with you, Pete," Sirius tries to assuage gently. "We can still be friends. None of
this means I'm going to slip away."

Peter's smile shrinks, becomes smaller, sadder, his eyes creasing in their corners with knowing
acceptance. Sirius understands the expression, the emotions so clearly flooding their way through
the other man, though he wishes he didn't. Peter is Remus' friend, and he's not walking away from
that. The lines have been drawn again, thicker this time, heavier, far more difficult to miss or step
over to the other side. Remus and his friends fall on one side, Sirius and his on the other, clearly
divided, marked off, separate and individual. Lines that aren't ever meant for crossing again.

Sirius looks away when he can stand the poignancy no longer, staring at the black mat under his
thigh. Peter's eyes rest on him for a while longer before he sighs faintly again and returns to Sirius'
knee, no more words forthcoming.

--------------------

It's midway through the week when Marlene finally seems to give up her silent, studious staring
and steps up to Sirius while he's laying face down on a table. Peter is beside him, one hand
wrapped around his ankle while the other presses into the underside of Sirius' thigh, bending his
leg back as far as it will go until his heel nearly touches his backside. Sirius isn't paying much
attention, head cradled in the crook of one elbow as he gazes distantly at one of the machines to his
left, only looking up when he senses the presence in front of him.

"Can I help you with something?" he asks of Marlene, trying to keep the bite from his voice,
though he knows he's not very successful. Marlene stares down at him, one hand planted on her
hip, purple nails tapping furiously.

"So, it's over, then? That's what's happening here, is it?" she demands waspishly, her eyes
narrowing down at him. Sirius frowns in bemusement, his brow furrowing, and Marlene huffs in
irritation. "Oh, don't give me that look, Black. You and Remus. You're not seeing one another
anymore, right?"

Peter stills in his movements over Sirius' leg as Sirius blinks up at Marlene in shock. Then he's
gawking. "You knew?" he questions sharply.

"Of course I knew," snaps Marlene in a fit. "You two weren't very good at hiding it, regardless of
what you may have thought. All those long stares and doe-eyed glances. The very obvious flirting
stopped suddenly, became cautious. I saw the way you two looked at one another. I'm clever."

Sirius looks away. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to think about any of it. Peter
sighs from beside him.

"Marls, please don't be angry," the man says, pleading a little. "Remus didn't want to keep it from
you and Rosmerta, but with Sirius here, he didn't have much choice."

"I'm not angry about that," cries Marlene, and Sirius can feel her eyes shifting between Peter and
him. "I understand that, it's why I never said anything about it. I was only happy that they'd finally
sorted it out, because christ, that was a trainwreck to watch on a nearly daily basis. The silent
pining alone was nauseating. What I'm furious about is that these two bellends have clearly gone
and mucked it all up."

Sirius looks back up at the woman, scowling at her. "Don't talk about things you know nothing
about," he says warningly, his eyes flashing.
"What I know nothing about?" she snaps indignantly and then she calms, something about her
turning almost dangerous and foreboding. "Fine. Here's what I do know. Remus will barely leave
his office between patients. We never see him. He won't talk to us unless it directly involves work,
nothing else. He looks horrible. I know he's not really sleeping, and I doubt he's eating much either.
He's miserable. And judging by the way you've been stomping around here, biting everyone's
heads off that so much as looks at you the wrong way, I'm guessing you are, too. So what's the
problem, Black? You had a good thing together, I could see it. You were happy, the both of you.
Why the upset? Why aren't you speaking or seeing each other at all? Why has Remus caved in on
himself?"

All of Marlene's anger and frustration leeches away as she rants, leaving behind immense worry for
her friend. Sirius stares up at her from his prone position on the table, his own overwhelming
emotions settling a little, slowly slipping away, leaving behind only a crippling amount of despair
and one question.

"Did you know, too, then?" he asks solemnly.

Marlene frowns at him deeply, a heavy crease forming between her light eyebrows. "Know what?
That you're an imbecile? Yes, shockingly, I did."

Sirius' eyes don't leave hers as he says, "Moony." He expects some sort of instant reaction, but
Marlene only looks more confused.

"Remus' nickname?" she questions. "What about it?" Marlene's gaze shifts to Peter even as Sirius'
face smooths out before she looks back down at him, the corners of her mouth pulling, her dark
blue eyes lighting up a little, like she's connecting pieces of a scattered puzzle. "Remus said before
you came here that he'd met you at some point when he was younger, but he never elaborated on it.
He said it was probably best not to bring it up. Then these two tell me later not to mention the
nickname either. That didn't make much sense, but it's his name, so who am I to decide what he
gets to do with it?"

Sirius feels everything in him deflate and sag, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming in the face of all
the secrets and lies spinning around him like dark, twisting chaos. He swings his legs over the side
of the table and sits up, his eyes meeting Peter's as the man stares at him in silent question.

"Think I'm done for the day," he mutters. Sirius motions with his head to Marlene. "You want to
explain it to her?"

Sirius doesn't wait for a response, hopping down from the table. Once his feet connect with the
floor, he's immediately walking in the direction of the door, hearing Peter sigh heavily behind him.

"What's he on about?" demands Marlene in bafflement. "Where are you going? Sirius!"

Sirius keeps walking, not stopping to look back at her, not pausing as he passes Rosmerta and she
gazes at him oddly for the sudden, early departure. Sirius makes his way to his bike and climbs on,
and then he drives. He journeys far beyond the city limits, to less travelled roads, trying to forget
the feeling of Remus pressing against his back as they traversed traffic. He drives until the light
begins to fade before he finally turns around and reluctantly returns home.

--------------------

Over the passing weeks, Peter slowly begins to ramp up Sirius' therapy. He starts him off on the
treadmill with a fast-paced walk, testing to see how well Sirius can keep up and if it induces any
pain within his knee. Obviously pleased with the results, he bumps Sirius up to a slow run before
steadily raising the speed over the coming days. They don't go to the pool anymore. They don't
cycle or climb within pedal boats or skate. Instead, Sirius runs. He never sees Remus as he comes
and goes, something he tells himself he's happy about.

They stay within the Playroom, Peter still working him through different exercises, but more often
than not, Sirius finds himself on the treadmill until he's running almost faster than the machine can
go. When this happens, Peter cuts the treadmill off with a brilliant, beaming grin as he stares up at
Sirius.

"Let's go outside, Sirius," he says in response to Sirius' dark eyebrows knitting together in
bemusement.

Peter takes him to a nearby park with a large open field. Sirius glances around, taking in the mostly
vacant area before looking over at the other man in silent question. Peter continues to smile
brightly.

"Run," he says, and Sirius' inquisitive frown suddenly shifts, the corners of his mouth pulling up
slowly. "Run, Sirius. As fast as you can. Stop if anything happens or you feel any pain or twinges."

That's all it takes. Sirius is off like a rocket, soaring across the open expanse of vibrant green grass.
His muscles protest in a glorious way, his lungs burn from the extra oxygen he inhales, but Sirius
feels free for the first time in too long. His knee never protests, never screams in agony for him to
stop. Sirius runs, and he runs, and then he runs more. He doesn't stop until he's covered in sweat,
until his chest is heaving too much to ignore anymore, until his muscles feel like jelly throughout
his body.

He collapses to the ground, limbs sprawling out around him as he stares up at the grey clouds
overhead, panting for air and feeling alive. His body buzzes with energy in a way it hasn't in
months, everything twitching in such a wonderful way he doesn't ever want it to stop. When Peter's
face appears above him, looking thoroughly delighted and a little awestruck, Sirius can only do one
thing, surprising even himself. He laughs. He laughs loud and bold and echoing, shaking his entire
body, the sound moving through him and filling in a few gaping places he's learned to ignore far
too well.

The following day, Peter immediately ushers Sirius back to the machine room when he arrives,
telling Sirius he wants to get some extra scan for the week. Sirius eyes him from his position on the
table as the other man studies the computer screen on the other side of the dividing wall, his face
pensive. Eventually, Sirius sees him nod slowly before he stands and rounds the corner, releasing
Sirius from his machine trap.

"Something wrong, Pete?" asks Sirius a little nervously. The other man's face is mostly passive,
holding no emotion that Sirius can easily identify.

Peter's eyes sweep over him as Sirius swings himself off the table, considering him for a long
expanse of time before his mouth twitches downwards at the corners. "I want to show you
something," he says finally, leading Sirius around the wall into the small, separated room.

Peter grabs a sheet of mostly black film and jams it up onto a light box mounted on the wall. He
flips the switch, illuminating the scan, and Sirius realizes it's his knee. He stares at it for a few
seconds before turning to Peter, arching an eyebrow in question.

"See anything wrong?" says Peter, motioning back to the scan.

Sirius glances back at the scan, his gaze shifting over it, a little baffled. It all looks mostly the same
to him, Sirius only able to tell the difference between what's bone and what's not. He looks back at
Peter, frowning in puzzlement. Peter points his forefinger at a section of the scan.

"That's your ACL," he informs Sirius, his finger running along the line of the ligament. "Do you
see anything that looks off?"

Sirius huffs, irritation rising along with mounting anxiety the longer they play this game. "Look,
Peter, if there's something that's not right, will you just tell me?" he nearly snaps. Peter lifts his
hands, staying Sirius' ire for bit longer.

"Let me show you something else," the other man says. He turns and pulls out a drawer, rifling
through some files before withdrawing another scan. Peter slots it up on the lightbox beside Sirius'.
"This," he explains, motioning to the new scan, "is a perfectly healthy, never injured knee. No ACL
damage whatsoever. And this one is yours. Compare the two. Tell me what you see that's
different."

Sirius turns his full attention back to the scans, leaning in and studying them closely. There are a
few slight inconsistencies, but Sirius supposes that's only because they come from different people
with varied amounts of muscle tone and bone structure. He feels as though he's missing something
as he glances at Peter again.

"I – nothing," he says slowly. "I don't see anything."

Peter suddenly beams at him, lighting up the entire room. "That's because there isn't anything,
Sirius," he states, and Sirius blinks at him.

"I'm sorry. What?"

Peter gestures to Sirius' scan again. "There's still a small amount of damage present. Tiny tears,
strain from multiple injuries. They'll probably always be there, unfortunately, but it's common
enough. Not really something to worry too much about, overall. But you're healed, Sirius. You
made it. You did it. You can go back to the team, go back to playing."

Sirius' eyes snap back to the scans in front of him, his breath hitching painfully as it gets trapped in
his lungs. Something floods through him slowly that he can't fight back, some overwhelming
emotion that causes his heart to hammer in his chest and sweat to spring up over the back of his
neck and down his spine.

"You'll still need physio for a while, that's not stopping anytime soon," continues Peter, not
noticing Sirius' sudden shift in demeanor. "But it'll be a lot less now. Probably once a week. And
we'll need to figure out something for when you're travelling. We definitely don't want that
Lockhart bloke getting his hands on you and causing more damage…"

Peter is still talking, but Sirius can't focus on it anymore. He can go back. Back to playing, back to
the team. Back to Gideon.

Sirius' teeth clamp down inside his mouth painfully, catching his cheek between and drawing blood
from their force. Panic surges through him. All this time, all these months, and he'd never really
thought about it in more than a distant sort of way. It had still felt so far off, his recovery, his
ability to perform the way he'd need to in order to return to the pitch. Even all the running he'd
been doing hadn't clued him in to how close he really was.

He's able to go back, but can he? Does he want to? The answer comes to his mind almost instantly,
screaming and rattling through his head. No! Sirius squeezes his eyes closed against it. He has to
go back. It's expected. He's needed, Moody had said as much. It's his career, the one thing he's
really good at, something he's always enjoyed. Hasn't he? That answer doesn't come nearly as
easily, doesn't actually swell up at all, stuck somewhere inside him, like it's trapped just the way
Sirius still feels trapped. But what is he meant to do? Other than the Potters, his career is all he has
now, all he's really ever had.

"Sirius?" Peter's voice suddenly cuts into Sirius' thoughts, forcing his eyes back open, seeing the
other man staring at him in concern. "All right?"

"Yeah," manages Sirius, ignoring how tight his own voice sounds to his ears. He pushes a smile
onto his face. "Just surprised, you know? I didn't expect this."

Peter's eyes shift over him observingly, like he's trying to figure out exactly where Sirius currently
stands. His hand lifts, Sirius noticing it coming from the edges of his vision, but he stiffens without
his consent. He's not sure if Peter notices or thinks better of his actions, but his hand drops back
down a moment later without connecting with Sirius.

"Good surprise, I hope," says the other man weakly, almost as though he's not sure what to say in
the moment.

Sirius' gaze lifts back to the scans on the wall. "Yeah," he mumbles, not even sounding convincing
to himself. Peter doesn't comment, the two standing there together in silence.

--------------------

"You're going back?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I – yes, I am."

"No, absolutely not," protests Lily, turning her incensed green glare on her husband. "James Potter,
talk some sense into your brother, I'm begging you. Sirius." Lily angles herself back in Sirius'
direction before James can do more than open his mouth. "You can't do this. You can't honestly
think it's a good idea."

Sirius lets his head fall back, hanging it over the back of his chair at the kitchen table, releasing an
exhausted sigh. They'd been having this argument for a half hour now, going round and round in
circles, getting nowhere. Sirius is tired, more tired than he's ever been in his life, feeling as though
he could sleep for endless days and never wake.

"Lily, what do you expect me to do?" he demands, finally looking back up at her.

"Anything else in the entire world, Sirius!" she exclaims, desperation taking the place of frustration
within her. "You could do anything you wanted, or nothing at all if that's what you chose. How can
you even consider this? After everything that's happened, I don't understand it. Why do you think
this is all you're good for?"

"Because it is," says Sirius flatly, his shoulders slumping.

"It's not!" cries Lily. She rounds on James again. "James, please. You can't let him do this!"

"Let me?" growls Sirius. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to, Evans, but no one
has ever let me do anything. This is my bloody life. Stay the fuck out of it."

Lily turns to him suddenly, looking hurt and scared, and Sirius feels a pang of guilt lace through
him. James' eyes narrow at him a little.

"Calm down, Padfoot," he says quietly. "We're just worried, you know we are. You don't actually
want this, I know you don't. I can see it. You're terrified. Why are you trying to hide it and pretend
like this is your only option? You hate there, and you've hated it for a long time. That's not
suddenly going to change, especially now, and you know that as well as I do."

Sirius frowns across the table at his two friends. "It doesn't matter what I want," he mutters darkly.
"I signed up for this. I can't just walk away from it."

"Why not?" begs Lily. "What are they going to do to you if you do? Nothing can be worse than
how it already is, can it?" Sirius looks away but Lily reaches across the table, cautiously taking his
hand in gentle fingers, pulling his attention back to her. "Sirius, luv, all I want is to see you happy.
You haven't been in so long. You came close, so very close, but…" Lily trails off when Sirius' eyes
drop away from her gaze, her fingers squeezing around his hand, drawing him back. "I just want to
see you smile again, sweetheart. You have the best smile. So bright and blinding and radiant. So
very pure. You never smile anymore, and that's not all right."

Sirius' brow furrows as he stares at her, absorbing her words, trying to process them. He tries to
remember the last time he truly smiled, but other than his surprising bout of laughter in the park
with Peter during the day of his run, something that had died far too quickly, he can't. Nothing
comes to mind, not for weeks on end, not since his last confrontation with Remus. Lily squeezes
his hand again insistently, but Sirius looks away.

"It doesn't matter," he says again. "It's already done, regardless of what you think. I've already
spoken to Moody and Minnie. I'm back for practice first thing Saturday morning."

Sirius can see just enough of Lily's face to witness the devastated expression that befalls her.
James, sitting silently beside her, only looks resigned and so fearful that Sirius can barely stand it.
He pushes himself away from the table, turning his back on his friends as he walks from the room,
not able to tolerate seeing the matching looks of disappointment that he knows are coming
eventually from two of the people he cares most about in the world.

--------------------

Sirius returns to practices full force, Moody determined to get him back into shape before their next
match in two weeks' time, the man delighted to have him back after so long, though Sirius sees the
wariness lingering around the edges of his features whenever they speak. Most of the team
welcomes him back with gusto, overjoyed for his return, though they, too, seem permanently on
edge.

His first day back is a constant shift of emotions, but Sirius does his best to contain them, to not let
them show. His heart feels lodged into his throat as he enters the pitch, his guard up, entire body
tense and stiff, movements measured and reserved. But Gideon is nowhere in sight, half the team
currently missing from the small, loose huddle over the green turf, but Benjy is there to greet him,
running up to his side and slinging an easy arm around his shoulder without hesitation, Sirius
refraining from tensing under the touch.

"Look at you, mate," chirps Benjy far too eagerly, his enthusiasm sounding mildly forced. "Back at
it, finally! How's it feel to run again?"
Sirius' mouth quirks up at one corner. "Brilliant," he responds, and Benjy gives him a small, joyous
shake. "Where is everyone?"

"Ah, new kits," answers Benjy, plucking at his shirt to show it off. Sirius steps back a little, taking
in the clothing admiringly. "Half arrived beginning of the week and they handed them out. The rest
got here yesterday afternoon. They've got one for you in there, too, but they'll pull you back for
yours later. Saw it a few days ago. S'nice. It's got Padfoot right over the shoulder on the sleeve.
Think you'll like it."

"That's great, Benj," says Sirius brightly, though he doesn't really feel it, the idea of a new kit
sinking in and pulling him down further rather than lifting him higher as it should. "I'm sure I will."

Benjy continues to prattle on animatedly as Sirius stares around the pitch. His eyes land on Fabian,
standing a little away from the huddle of their teammates, gaze firmly locked on the entrance to the
innards of the stadium, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes eventually shift away
slowly, coming to rest on Sirius, something flashing through them that Sirius can't identify. His
face is pinched in on itself, brow furrowed into deep lines. Sirius thinks he looks worried. His gaze
only darts away when the rest of the team emerges onto the pitch, his eyes lighting on his brother
and not leaving.

Silence falls over them all once their together, but Sirius isn't certain whether it's actually gone
quiet or if it's only that his ears are no longer working, static loud and drowning everything else
out. He watches as Gideon steps up to the semi-circle that is now the team, the other man's muddy
green eyes searching him out quickly, a small smirk twitching over his mouth when he sees Sirius
staring back at him. Sirius represses a shudder at the predatory expression that passes over
Gideon's face before he looks away under the pretense of seeking out Frank.

He's just found him and greeted the other man when Moody hobbles his way onto the pitch, calling
his name. "Black," he barks as he comes level with Sirius. "Good to have you back, lad. Let's get
you inside and changed."

Sirius trails after Moody in the direction of the changing rooms, feeling eyes on him, though he
tries not to focus on who they belong to. When Sirius enters, Moody closes the door as he steps
through, Sirius' gaze landing on McGonagall, the woman standing stoic, arms hanging at her sides,
hands clasped together in front of her.

"I'd like to say it's good to see you, Sirius," she says without preamble as Moody hobbles his way
over to a nearby bench and sits, "and while it is always a pleasure to be in your company, I honestly
didn't think it would be within these walls."

Sirius stares directly at her, keeping his eyes forward, purposefully not looking toward the shower
room, his skin crawling. "I promised I'd be back, so here I am," he states flatly. "That's what I'm
doing, keeping a promise."

McGonagall frowns at him, her sharp gaze sweeping over him, taking in his appearance, like she
can see everything he's hiding under layers of flesh and muscle and rickety-built, shuddering walls.
"Are you certain this is what you want, Sirius? There's no shame is saying otherwise, in not
returning." Her stare flickers to Moody briefly, meeting the grizzled man's eyes before it settles
back on Sirius. "Neither of us will judge you for it."

Everything inside Sirius is screaming to turn around and flee, retreat to the safety of his found
home and family, but he resists, clamps down on the rattling pleas echoing within his mind. He
can't keep running, can't keep hiding from his life and what it's become. He can't be a
disappointment to anymore people.
"I'm sure," he says clearly, more determination and resolution in his voice than he currently feels.
But he squares his shoulders under the pair's observant, uncertain gazes, glaring back at them.

McGonagall sighs. "Very well," she relents. "We have taken every measure possible to make sure
you never find yourself alone with Mr Prewett again, but there's only so much we can do. You
must be aware of that. Do not let your guard down. Unfortunately, that is all we can offer you as
recompense, and I'm…deeply sorry."

Sirius looks away, saying nothing in return. There's nothing he can say even if his mouth would
work to do so.

Moody pushes himself to his feet, motioning with his head behind him. "Well, lad, your new kit's
in your locker," he states gruffly. "Get changed. I've got the door for you." He slips by Sirius
slowly, like he's hesitant on the entire matter, waiting for McGonagall to leave the room ahead of
him before he steps out and closes the door behind him, Sirius surmising from his words that he's
standing directly in front of it like a guarding figure.

As soon as he's alone, Sirius' head angles back between his shoulders, eyes rolling up to the ceiling
before falling closed. Nothing should be this hard, and Sirius hates that it is; hates himself for
making everyone's lives so much more difficult than they have any right to be.

He exhales a long, forceful breath of air from his lungs, shaking the twitchiness of his body away
as he ventures to his locker. Sirius flicks the latch and swings the metal door open on its hinges, a
low whine of squeak sounding from disuse. His eyes take in the new clothing resting inside, but he
stops, his stomach twisting horribly, tying itself into vicious knots, when he spies the strip of
fluorescent condom packages curled over his shirt. Sirius slams the door closed quickly, pressing
his forehead against the metal as he tries to regain control of his breathing, tries to block out the
image of the silent, foreboding, threatening taunt contained just beyond his head.

Sirius attends practices every day after that, Moody calling for extras for Sirius' sake alone,
determined to get him back in rotation quickly. He's never left alone, not for one second between
entering the stadium and leaving, something he's both grateful for and resents, an odd, mingled
emotion that he thinks requires an entirely new name made. When Moody or McGonagall aren't
around or nearby, Frank and Benjy are there, among some of their other teammates. Sometimes
Sirius feels as though they're almost flanking him, causing the uneasiness to swell inside him
nearly constantly.

But none of this stops Gideon from barreling into his side one day as Sirius tries to pass by him on
the pitch. They fall to the ground in a heap, Gideon's weight landing solidly on top of Sirius, and he
feels himself freeze even as he screams at his body to move roll flail hit escape. Sirius can't do
anything, can't force himself to action, frozen solid. There are hands on him, muddy, glinting eyes
leering over his face, but before Gideon can do anything, whether he'd been planning it or not, he's
being lurched backwards, a surprised sound ripping from his throat, Sirius staring at the scene
above him from where he still lays sprawled over the grass.

Benjy and Fabian have Gideon held within tight grips on either side of his arms, both looking
furious. Gideon tries to pull away from them, but they hold on, not releasing him, his eyes locking
on his brother with an intense ferocity.

"Stay the fuck off him, Prewett," snarls Benjy, shoving at the other man's shoulder with one hand.
"What kind of fucked up animal are you?"

Gideon's gaze shifts to Benjy, holding for a few seconds before it drops and settles on Sirius. He
seems to instantly calm, all former tension leeching from his body as he shrugs his shoulders in a
flippant gesture.

"I tripped," he supplies easily, face containing a predatory edge as he continues to stare down at
Sirius. "Sorry, Black. My mistake."

Sirius glowers at him, his heart pounding beneath his ribcage, but then Frank is there, leveraging
him up from the ground and back to his feet. "All right, mate?" he asks quietly, so that no one but
Sirius can hear. Sirius opens his mouth to speak, his eyes not leaving Gideon, not trusting himself
to look away, but Moody is entering the loose huddle of players before he can speak.

"Black, go find Lockhart and get some ice on that knee before we lose you for another eight
months," barks Moody, breaking up the mounting hostility flooding around them. "Prewett, you as
well. I saw that ankle twist."

A slow spreading, horrible smile stretches over Gideon's face as he says, "Yes, sir." Frank pulls
Sirius back toward him, seeing the expression as well. He begins to protest against Moody, but the
man cuts him off.

"Fenwick, second Prewett, go with them," he snaps. "Don't let them out of your sights."

Frank's grip on Sirius eases a little at the instruction, but Sirius doesn't feel any more relieved at the
order, Gideon still leering at him lewdly, his hand moving in a crude gesture under the pretense of
rubbing at his hip that had hit the ground during their fall. Frank's fingers clench around Sirius'
shoulder, his friend noticing the action as well, only releasing him completely when Benjy steps up
and slowly slots his arm around Sirius, guiding him across the pitch as Fabian does the same with
Gideon.

Lockhart ushers them in when they arrive to the room dedicated to him, though Sirius feels it's a
wasted space. The man prattles to them as they move to chairs, Benjy guiding Sirius to one far
away from Gideon, Sirius tuning out the sound of Lockhart's boastful voice. When he tries to poke
and prod at Sirius' knee, Sirius knocks him away with a glare.

"Just ice," he says firmly. "I don't need you for anything else."

Lockhart's eyes narrow at him, but he steps away and returns with an ice pack, offering it out
without looking at Sirius again. Sirius takes it, not caring, preferring to ignore the man's entire
existence whenever possible. He hisses at the cold as he presses it against the skin of his leg,
though his knee feels mostly fine. But Sirius knows he should ring Peter once he's finished with
practice for the day, just so the man knows about the tumble.

Benjy leans his shoulders against the wall at his back beside Sirius, arms crossed loosely over his
chest as his eyes watch Lockhart pick and pluck over Gideon. Fabian stands near the front of the
room, body still, looking like a guarding statue as his gaze rests on his brother with fury, not
moving away.

"Tripped, huh?" voices Benjy after a long while, once Lockhart has wandered away and back to his
desk in the corner, scribbling over something avidly. "I think we might need to teach you some
balance lessons for all the times you seem to trip around your teammates. Or maybe we should just
remove your prick. That should solve all sorts of balancing issues."

Gideon only smirks at Benjy. "Careful, Fenwick," he says fiendishly. "Your friend there always
liked my prick. Why else would he have begged for it so much?"

Sirius whips his head around to glare at Gideon, but the other man's smirk only increases in size,
 the look on his face almost rabid and feral now. "I begged you for fuck all," growls Sirius. "You
were more about taking what wasn't given to you."

"You think so?" queries Gideon, and his smirk spreads into a wolfish grin. "Because I think I took
exactly what you wanted to give, Black."

"Gideon," hisses Fabian suddenly, taking a step forward in warning. "Enough."

Gideon's eyes narrow at his brother, but before he can say anything else, Sirius tosses the ice pack
to the side and stands. "Think I'm done," he tells Benjy, already walking toward the door. "I'll ring
Peter when I leave, see what he says about it."

"Peter?" calls Gideon maliciously. "What happened to Lupin, Sirius? Did he finally see how broken
you were inside and decide you weren't worth wasting his time on? Can't say I blame the bloke
much for that."

Sirius falters in his steps, Benjy nearly crashing into him before he manages to stop as well.
Something sears through Sirius at the words, hot and stinging and crippling. Benjy spins on his
heel, rage flashing over his face, but Sirius doesn't wait for the fallout, continuing forward with
force, leaving the room before he can hear more.

Chapter End Notes

Guys. Guys! We're almost finished. Look! Two more chapters left, along with an
epilogue. Are you excited? Come scream at me on Tumblr about it.
 Surprise Visits, Brothers, & Falling

Sirius is more than surprised when he opens the front door after an echoing knock one afternoon
shortly after returning home from practice, finding one of the last people he'd ever expected
standing on the step beyond it. Lily and James are gone until the early evening, away to work with
Harry at the Weasleys' creating untold amounts of chaos, Sirius having finally convinced his
friends after far too many rows that he was fine on his own, he didn't need a constant minder. He
was dealing with it.

This isn't strictly true, especially now with him back in full swing with the team for practices.
Gideon's sneering face is everywhere around him now, hovering just at the edges of his vision no
matter where he looks or what he does, closing his eyes against it only pulling the visage closer and
into sharper detail. There's nearly a constant prickling sensation buried just under the surface of his
skin at all times, something he can't seem to shake, an intense feeling of foreboding and steadily
rising insecurity in everything he does, the awful, crushing need to shield himself away from the
world. But he resists, going on about his life exactly as he's meant to do, pretending it doesn't
matter, that it's not affecting him, that he's fine.

"Fabian," he says slowly, confusion heavy in his tone. His eyes sweep around the front of the
house, searching, warning bells sounding inside his head. "What are you doing here?"

Fabian stands in front of him, still as stone, resolute on the concrete slab of the step, shoulders
tense even with his hands shoved in his pockets, aiming for an air of casualness. Sirius doesn't
believe it for a second, his fingers gripping around the edges of the door, ready to force it closed in
the other man's face.

"I came to talk to you," informs Fabian, his fair hair blowing across his forehead in the gentle
breeze, casting subtle shadows over his pale green eyes. He raises his hands in a peaceful, open
gesture. "My brother isn't with me, Sirius. I wouldn't do that to you."

Sirius' gaze shifts over him, calculating, observant, sizing him up for the truth. Fabian and him
have never been close, but the other man has never done or said anything overly negative or
deprecating to Sirius, never taunted, even good-naturedly. His eyes are guarded now, but Sirius can
see something in them, something begging for some sort of forgiveness he doesn't know if he
wants to open himself up to give.

But he finally steps back from the door, widening the entrance, allowing the other man access to
the front hall. Fabian's shoulders seem to cave inwards as he walks inside, passing by Sirius so he
can close them up again, his movements cautious, like he's being certain not to accidentally touch
or make any sort of contact. They stand in the hall, Fabian's wary gaze shifting around, fingers
fidgeting at his sides as Sirius studies him silently before sighing.

"Sitting room's through there," he says, motioning with his head in the direction of the door. "Go
and sit. Whatever this is, I'm guessing we don't want to do it standing here like two overeager
tossers."

Something shifts across Fabian's face at the words, but he moves without question, stepping into
the next room and seating himself on the sofa, back rigid, though his knees spread apart, almost in
an effort to instill an air of indifference that Sirius can see straight to the heart of without really
trying. Sirius situates himself on one of the armchairs closer to the bare fireplace and waits quietly.
When Fabian doesn't speak for a long time, Sirius feels his annoyance mounting quickly.
"What do you want, Prewett?" he snaps out before he can stop himself.

Fabian looks at him then, meeting his eyes and not releasing his hold of them. He seems regretful,
repentant, buried under guilt. Sirius nearly flinches under the strength of it all.

"I'm sorry," murmurs Fabian after a beat. "I should have done more."

Sirius' features cave in, face scrunching, his ire seeping through, pulling his brows together, forcing
the corners of his mouth into a harsh downturn, lines of skin sharp and hard. He stares back at
Fabian with more misplaced blame than he knows the other man rightfully deserves, but he can't
stop himself now.

"You knew," is what he says, voice low, gravelly, nearly a growl of sound. "You knew what he
was going to do when you warned me."

"I didn't," speaks Fabian, still looking remorseful and far too broken himself. "I knew he was
becoming obsessive, more so than he had been. I knew he was mounting to something volatile. But
not that, Sirius. Not this. I never would have thought he could do this…" Fabian stops, his mouth
pulling into a tight, grievous line, pale eyes sad and lost. "He's my brother. More than. We've been
together our entire lives, side by side through everything. How are you meant to think something so
terrible about someone so close? I couldn't see it."

Fabian breaks off again, swallowing roughly, his calm façade he always carries cracking around
the edges, mystifying Sirius more than he'll ever let on. "But I should have," he eventually admits,
eyes still locked with Sirius'. "I should have seen it. And I'm sorry I didn't. I tried to watch him as
best I could, I truly did, because I knew something was coming, and it terrified me what it would
be. I'm just sorry, Sirius. I'm sorry for the pain he's caused, the scars he's left behind that'll
probably never heal. I'm sorry I allowed it to happen at all."

Sirius looks away, can't bear to see the pain in the other man's eyes, reflecting only a fraction of his
own. As much as he wants to continue doing so, he can't blame Fabian. None of this is his fault. He
had warned Sirius, as much as he possibly could at the time, and while Sirius had listened, he
hadn't taken the words for what they were until it had been too late.

"I didn't see it either," says Sirius in a small voice, fingers creeping slowly up his throat and trying
to strangle the words away. "You couldn't have stopped it, Fabian. No one could have. He was…
too determined. I think it's time I accept that for what it is, just like everyone's been trying to get
me to for months now. Placing blame isn't helping anyone, least of all me."

Fabian stares across the space, eyes fixed and full of something Sirius doesn't want to see. He shifts
in his chair, readjusting a little, feeling uncomfortable, awkward, exposed under the intensity of the
other man's gaze. He swallows it down, buries it deep, tells himself there's no reason for it, though
he knows that isn't true, that there are far too many reasons for him to feel this way and so much
more. Fabian finally glances away, one leg bouncing a little, like a nervous movement, and when
his eyes shift back, the look within them is mostly gone, stifled now, nearly extinguished.

"Well," he mumbles, fingers fidgeting before he clasps them together between his knees, the word
emerging like he doesn't know what to say. "That's not the only reason I came here. Not even the
main reason, really." Fabian's eyebrows pinch close, his expression almost apologetic as he stares
at Sirius. "I wanted you to know. I'm hoping…" He stops, forces out a long breath of air through
his teeth, his hair fluttering a little from the action. "I honestly don't know what I was hoping. That
it would give you some peace of mind, maybe, but I'm not sure that it will."

Fabian's eyes sweep over him as Sirius frowns in confusion. "What are you on about, Fab?"
Fabian glances away, looking a little reluctant, though Sirius doesn't know whether it has to do
with him or something else. When he looks back, his expression is resolved, firm, unyielding and
steadfast. "We're retiring, Gid and me. I'm forcing him to it."

Sirius is still, frozen for several seconds, processing the announcement, then his mouth is falling
open as he gapes. "I – I'm sorry, but what?" he demands, blinking in bafflement at the other man,
certain he's misheard. Fabian gazes back at him stoically, his face not shifting from its earlier
expression. "Fabian…you can't be serious. You're twenty-five, you can't retire. You've still got
years left before that should even be a thought."

"I don't want them, the years," says Fabian adamantly. "Football has always been Gideon's thing. I
only started playing competitively because he wanted it so badly, and we've always been a team,
done everything together. And then when the Association started sniffing around, they wouldn't
take him without me. We're a set in everything we do. There's no escaping that, and I've made my
peace with it."

"He can't be happy about that," hedges Sirius cautiously, his heartrate spiking as he thinks about
Gideon's fury at Fabian's decision.

"He's not. I told him before coming here. He's currently raging at home. I dread seeing the damage
he's done when I return. But I don't care." Fabian's shoulders square, his voice shifting to
something far more tenacious. "I think I've spent enough time giving him what he wants, playing to
his needs, following him almost blindly through life. It's my turn now. It's time I take something I
want, and what I want more than anything is to remove him from the places he can cause the most
damage."

Sirius doesn't reply to that, but Fabian seems to not be expecting anything from him as he
continues. "Our family agrees with me. I've spoken to them at length," the other man says, his eyes
studying Sirius carefully. "They know what happened, and unfortunately – no matter how much I
hate to use that word here – they believe every word of it. Gideon has always been teetering on this
cliff edge, just waiting to fall in one direction or the other. No one was very surprised when it
happened. But I didn't tell them about you, Sirius. I never used your name. You're anonymous in all
this. It's your place to tell it, to speak of it however you want. I won't take that from you or force it
from your hands."

"When?" asks Sirius even as he chews over the information, trying to figure out how it affects him,
how he feels about it, if it changes anything at all. The answer is clear, ringing like a beautiful but
still far too harsh bell inside his mind: it doesn't. It changes nothing.

Fabian hesitates for a long moment before saying slowly, "I…don't know. It won't be quick. You
know as well as I do that there are barriers to step over, rules to follow, procedures to take. I've
read into the guidelines set forth by the Association, studied our contracts, but there are still things
I don't know about, I'm certain of that. I've set up a meeting with McGonagall and Moody in a
couple days' time, and I'm sure there will be a much larger meeting following that with some of the
Association's figureheads. None of them will be happy about it, but I don't much care about that
either. I'm not giving them a choice, no more than I'm giving one to Gideon. We're leaving, no
matter what they say. I'm finished, and so is he."

Sirius is quiet for a long time, the silence stretching between them, filling the entire house with a
heaviness that settles over Sirius like a too thick, suffocating blanket. He feels breathless, his body
sluggish, feeling like it's encased in jelly slowly turning to hardening, unbreakable cement. It
shouldn't be like that, he knows. Fabian has just given him the answer he'd thought he's needed for
so long. His nightmare is leaving, eventually. Gideon is being taken away by force. But Sirius also
knows that while the man may be gone, the terror he's caused won't be. It won't ever leave. He'll
still plague Sirius in his memories and dreams, still haunt him at every turn. Nothing can ever take
that away, and he's not sure what to do about it, what he can say in gratitude to Fabian, because
none of it works the way it should.

"You aren't doing this just because of me," whispers Sirius finally, "are you?" He stares at Fabian
intently, holding his breath, though he's not sure why.

"Mostly," admits Fabian honestly, "but no, Sirius. This isn't all about you. It's just given me the
push I've been waiting on for too long now. It's time. We've had our moment in the sun. Now I
want a life, one that isn't filled with screaming fans or someone like Moody breathing down my
neck constantly. I just want to be me."

The words resonate with Sirius far more than he thinks they should, striking something deep inside
him, rainwater soaking it through, sinking to the roots, sprouting it high. I want a life. I just want to
be me. It steals his breath away completely, leaves his lungs struggling, jumping inside his chest.
James, Lily, Harry, Frank, Benjy, Marlene, Peter, Rosmerta…His mind stops there, can't go
further, can't reach the place he really wants and needs to be anymore.

To live a life, just them, just him, so simple and easy and fluid. Wide open and unrestricted. It feels
like a faint dream, something he's never allowed himself to think about having, not really. There's
always been too many bad things, too many deeply gouged scars in his way, too many people
counting on him to do what they think is needed instead of letting him choose his own way, and
Sirius has let them guide him, pull him in every direction except down the one path he desperately
needs the most.

James and Lily have tried, as much as they can, being supportive of all that Sirius has ever wanted,
but he's been too blinded by everything else to see it properly, what it is he really needs in his life to
feel whole. Only one person had ever opened his eyes, cleared his vision of the years of built-up
sludge to see it properly, but Sirius had let that slip away, too, falling back to familiar patterns,
crashing back into the life he hates. He'd lost it again, somehow, the things that had once began to
look so clear evaporating into a haze and disappearing into the sun, blinding him again when it
mattered the very most. Sirius isn't sure how he keeps allowing it to happen, these perfect little
blinders closing in around him like a tamed and controlled horse, beaten down and broken into a
shell of his former self, of who he's meant to be, and he feels more than empty as he faces down the
truth of it all now, feels like a barren wasteland of blowing, swirling dust and decay.

Fabian watches him, saying nothing, everything held within his expression speaking to his
understanding of what Sirius is realizing as he sits still as a statue in his chair, frozen to the spot,
struggling his way through it. Fabian offers no words of comfort, no carefully constructed phrases
to try to help ease it away, coax it back down, and for that, Sirius is grateful. Sirius will always be
grateful for that small but somehow massively encompassing act of kindness the other man offers
him within the quiet sitting room on a hazy, dreary afternoon.

--------------------

Three days before the coming match, Sirius dismounts from his bike and steps onto the pavement.
He's fresh from practice, and as he removes his helmet and pushes his fingers back through his
sweat-caked hair, his nose twists in disgust. Sirius doesn't shower at the stadium anymore, and all
he wants is to go home so he can be clean once more, but with the match approaching, Peter wants
him to obtain a special gel for his knee, just to be cautious.

As he walks in the direction of the shop (a different one than he used to frequent where he'd first
ran forcefully into Remus; Sirius doesn't go to that one anymore), pulling his dirty hair into a tight
knot at the back of his head, his mobile rings inside his pocket. He pulls it out with mild
annoyance, not in the mood to speak with anyone right now, but he freezes mid step when he sees
the name lighting up his screen. He's not sure what to do, simply staring at the display, his heart
beating rapidly in his chest, all his thoughts immediately turning to something's wrong.

He fumbles with the phone as his brain starts working again, finally managing to swipe his thumb
over the screen to answer the call. Sirius presses it to his ear slowly, only able to release one lone
word before his throat closes up on him in mounting shock and panic.

"Regulus."

"Sirius," comes the reply, his name clipped and curt. Sirius feels as though a bucket of ice water
has been poured over his head, falling down his neck and spine, sending chills through his entire
body, because his brother's voice, though deeper now, is exactly the same as it had been ten years
before.

"What – ?" The word cracks in the middle as Sirius struggles to speak past the tightness in his
throat and chest. "What's wrong? Has something – are you all right?"

"Are you?" counters Regulus, still just as formal, still haughty and superior sounding, but Sirius
can hear it buried deeply, that small edge of concern.

"Yeah, 'course," responds Sirius in bemusement, his voice emerging more easily now, though it's
still strained. "What are you – ?"

"I saw the stories, Sirius. I read what she wrote. I know what happened."

Cold, clawing fingers grip around Sirius' lungs at the words, dread filling him like water seeping in
through large, quickly growing cracks. "What are you talking about, Reg?"

Regulus seems to hesitate, taking a moment before he responds, though somehow, Sirius already
knows what's coming. When his brother finally speaks, his voice has shifted a little, a softer quality
to it, but Sirius can hear the underlying hatred tingeing it with gruffness.

"Gideon Prewett," he says simply. "Someone talked about it, Sirius."

"No," utters Sirius.

His hands scrabble at his phone again, pulling it away from his ear, fingers flying over the screen.
He can still hear Regulus' faint voice sounding from the speakers, but he ignores it as a rush of
panic floods through him. A quick search of his own name is all it takes, Rita Skeeter's name
standing out alongside his from her newest feature, an exclusive interview given by some nameless
person but, according to her, a very reliable source who she's spoken with on numerous occasions
regarding England's football team and its members.

Sirius skims it quickly, his eyes flying over the screen as he takes in the horrible words typed out
so clearly in black and white. It's all so detailed, denoting the day, the time, the place, what had
happened afterwards. There are brief mentions of Fabian, Frank, Benjy. Questions about
McGonagall, Moody, the Association as a whole. Sickening speculations about Sirius and his
mental state over the passing months since his injury, about whether it was all some massive
fabrication, a way to gain attention. About whether or not he'd encouraged it.

He keeps skimming frantically, no longer paying attention to any details, though names continue to
jump out at him. The Potters are brought into it, along with their small son, and Sirius feels
suddenly ill when he spies the accusations again about the boy's true parentage. He goes and goes,
his veins filling with ice the longer he looks open-mouthed at the screen in his hands, but he stops
abruptly when his eyes land on Remus' name, on the inquiries and guesses into their supposed
relationship. Bile rises in his throat and Sirius feels as though something is cracking apart inside
him.

Regulus is still speaking, his voice louder now, more insistent, calling Sirius back. He swallows
around the thickness in his throat as he lifts the phone back to his ear slowly, his hands shaking,
knees trembling beneath his weight, though he manages to keep them locked, but just barely.

"Sirius, please. Talk to me," comes Regulus' voice, and he sounds almost desperate now, the
pleading edge of his tone breaking through his always carefully held aloofness.

"Reg, I – " tries Sirius, but he can't say anything else, the words drying up on his tongue, tasting
like bitter ashes.

Regulus falls silent for a moment before saying quietly, sensitively, "What are they doing about
it?"

"They're – nothing," chokes out Sirius. "They're doing nothing."

"You must be joking," snaps Regulus, his composure finally seeming to break. "You're one of their
prize ponies. They can't just sit back, watching this unfold, and do nothing."

But Sirius isn't listening anymore, his eyes darting around the moderately crowded street. The story
had been released this morning and is already spreading quickly if Sirius' brief search is anything to
go by. Several interested parties probably haven't read it yet, but Sirius knows that more than
enough have. Most of the eyes of the passersby on the pavement around him simply slip over him
without a second glance, but some linger on him, mild curiosity filling their gazes as they study
him, like they're trying to remember, trying to place him. Sirius feels as though his heart is going to
burst from his chest as the fear and panic settle back in.

"I have to go," he says unexpectedly, cutting off Regulus' continuing words as he turns quickly on
his heel and retreats to his bike, keeping he head bowed down a little.

"What?" demands Regulus in confusion. "Sirius – "

"I have to get off the street and I can't drive my bike with you on the phone," snaps Sirius, far more
roughly than he'd intended. He's drawing too much attention to himself, he knows he is. Sirius can
feel the curious, eager, judgmental eyes on him from all around. His panic mounts higher as he
reaches his bike and swings his leg over as fast as he can.

"Wait, Sirius, just…" Regulus tries to stop him, sounding desperate once again. "Just meet me
somewhere. I want to make sure you're okay."

"You mean the way I've been trying to make sure you've been okay for years now?" demands
Sirius angrily, his voice rising, drawing more attention to himself. He silently curses himself,
calming back down from his rage and settling into the anxiety again. "I have to go home. I'm not
ignoring you, Reg. I'm not brushing you off. I'll call you back, I swear I will. But right now, I need
to get off this street and somewhere I won't be accosted if someone decides to brave it."

Sirius disconnects the phone without waiting for a response. He shoves it back into his pocket and
kicks the rumbling engine into life just as he thinks he senses someone approaching him from
behind. He barely looks over his shoulder in the opposite direction before he's streaking out into
traffic and away from the eyes locked on him conspicuously.
By the time Sirius arrives home, he's a mess of himself. His entire body is shaking as he removes
himself from his bike, dropping his keys several times as he tries to unlock the front door. James,
having clearly heard him struggling, throws it open and begins to greet him jovially, but he stops,
his eyes flashing in fear when he notices Sirius' state. His friend pulls him inside, helping him shed
his jacket before slinging an arm around him and guiding Sirius into the sitting room. Lily emerges
from the kitchen as James settles Sirius down on the sofa, coming over to sit beside him, her lovely
face and green eyes filling with overwhelming concern.

James asks him what happened as he crouches down in front of him, but Sirius is nearly mute,
barely managing two words strung together, broken and ragged, scraping up his throat like
viciously biting barbs. Sirius pulls his phone from his pocket, opening the media story and
presenting it to James in explanation. His friend takes the phone cautiously, his hazel eyes
skimming the typeface, Sirius watching as his face quickly shifts through several emotions before
he looks back up at Sirius with heartbreak and fury clearly written over his features. He hands the
phone to Lily silently, the woman also reading through the story quickly before she drops the
phone and pulls Sirius to her in careful, gentle arms.

"Oh, sweetheart," she whispers. Her hand smooths over the back of his head comfortingly as she
slowly rocks him back and forth, trying to lull him into some semblance of calm.

James stands and begins to pace, rage radiating off the man in relentless waves. "Who would do
that?" he demands to the room at large. "Who would talk to that despicable woman?"

Sirius only manages to shake his head over Lily's shoulder. He can't think about that now, can't
process it, because he's stuck within it all again, trapped like a fly to sticky paper that refuses to let
go or relent without shredding his legs and wings in the process. His every thought leaves him
pinned against that wall again with those sharp, digging elbows gouging into his chest and ribcage,
springs to mind the horrors of the accusations about Harry being his and not James', tugs at the
dark recesses of his mind over his family strife and the terrible things he'd endured there, recalls
the image of Remus to his mind once Sirius had learned just how much he'd been lied to for so very
long.

Harry enters the room at some point, his curious face gazing around before his bright green eyes
fade with worry and he sinks down to the floor beside the armchair, watching the adults in
trepidation. Sirius finds it difficult to pay him much attention, still too lost inside his own head to
focus on anything else. Once Sirius' trembles have calmed enough, Lily finally releases him
slowly, fingers ghosting over his cheek before she stands and ushers Harry from the room and back
upstairs where she calls the Weasleys to see if he can stay the night with them to keep him away
from the exposure of the dreadfulness currently filling their own home.

When Sirius can finally speak more clearly, he tells them about his conversation with Regulus,
James looking stunned. He eventually rings Sirius' brother back himself because Sirius just…can't.
He can't do anything right now, feeling frozen and still trapped in every horrible thing that's ever
happened in his life, one moment spilling into the next until it's all a muddy, terrible mess of
misery and heartbreak.

James opens an invitation to Regulus to come to their home, but only if he's truly interested in
checking on Sirius' wellbeing, in speaking with him as his brother and not as a mouthpiece to their
wretched family. Regulus, surprisingly, accepts the offer easily, hastily. He's on the front step
within the hour, his knock forceful but controlled, sounding through the house like the echoes of
things lost long ago.

When James answers the door, there's a small window of time where silence descends around them
before Regulus steps into the sitting room. Sirius stares up at his brother from where he's still
sitting on the sofa, Lily by his side again, taking him in silently.

He's wearing a dark suit, nicely tailored to fit perfectly, expensive, deep purple shirt underneath,
pinstriped tie to match. His black hair is shorter than Sirius remembers it being kept as they'd
grown, falling near his ears now, groomed back neatly but beginning to frizz a little around the
clean lines. Regulus' hands are tucked deeply in his pockets, his open suit jacket pushed back a
little, revealing his thinness, sharp lines standing out against his shirt.

Regulus is taller now, though a little shorter than Sirius. So much about him is different, his face a
little more sunken than Sirius remembers it being, cheeks slightly hollowed and fading into a
strong jaw. But his grey eyes are just as Sirius has always known them, darker than Sirius' own by
a couple shades and still containing that same softness his brother had somehow seemed to retain
regardless of what their family had made them suffer through, no matter the harsh teachings they'd
tried to instill in their children. They settle on Sirius now, sweeping over him, creases forming at
their corners, almost as though Regulus doesn't like what he sees.

"You don't look well, Sirius," is all he says, voice back to firm formality. Sirius watches as he
seems to teeter for a moment, like he wants to step forward, the muscles in his arms flexing
noticeably under his sleeves before everything stills again.

"Am I meant to look like you, then?" manages Sirius after a silent moment.

Regulus huffs out a breath, like a small, barely existent laugh, his eyes drifting away for a second
before returning. "You'd look a right sight better than you do now if you did," he retorts, almost a
quip but his tone is a touch too heavy for it to land properly.

Sirius stands then, Regulus watching him almost warily. Sirius takes a step forward, but he stops,
freezes, teetering himself, feeling suspended between do and don't. Spectral hands creep over his
body, nonexistent fingers ghosting across his skin, sending chills through him. They haven't
stopped since he read the media story, the article planting Sirius firmly back in his torment, unable
to break free no matter how hard he tries. But the desire to feel his brother in his embrace is too
strong, too difficult to resist, because Sirius has missed him so much he's never had words to
describe the aching loss he'd felt once he was gone.

His hesitation ends abruptly and then Sirius is closing the distance between them, his arms draping
over Regulus' shoulders. Sirius pulls his brother to him, chests knocking together from the force of
the motion, but Sirius doesn't care, his grip tightening as he envelopes his younger brother in a hug
that's been missing for far too long. Regulus stiffens a little under the sudden, nearly tackling
motion of his brother, staying that way for a while, but Sirius doesn't release him, just keeps
holding on, arms slowly tightening with every passing minute.

"I've missed you, Reg," he whispers to the other man trapped in his embrace. Sirius smiles a little
when he feels Regulus' tension ease away a bit, feels his hands remove themselves from his
pockets. He pats lightly, uncertainly, at the center of Sirius' back, but after another moment of
hesitation so thick Sirius can nearly taste it in the air, his arms wrap around Sirius' body slowly, a
small squeeze careening something overwhelming through him.

Sirius doesn't know how long passes before he finally releases his brother reluctantly. He steps
back, settling on the sofa beside Lily once more, Regulus taking the free armchair James isn't
occupying. They talk for a while, hours streaming by in a flash, Regulus asking questions, some
about Sirius' life in general, others focused more on what he'd read that morning. Sirius answers
what he can, James taking over with the rest, filling in what Sirius can't bring himself to say with as
much information as he's garnered over the trickling months. Sirius closes his eyes against it, can't
make himself look at the others during James' careful explanations, something hot, searing,
burning him from the inside out, something too much like shame bubbling up inside him at every
softly spoken word.

It's late, well past dark and into the early hours of the morning when James and Lily quietly excuse
themselves to bed and Sirius and Regulus venture outside. It's somewhere Sirius has found himself
a lot since January, the suffocating feeling, the horrible notion of walls closing in around him only
disappearing once he steps through the door into the garden, the open space and burst of air
returning his breath in a way almost nothing else can. He leans back on one of the loungers, staring
up at the faintly sprinkled stars above his head, the lights from the city too bright for them to shine
as they should, Regulus watching him thoughtfully as he seats himself beside Sirius on the other
chair.

"You still haven't answered my question," says his brother finally, his voice low, nearly a whisper,
like he's scared to disturb whatever fleeting peace Sirius seems to have found in the moment.

"What question's that?" Sirius doesn't look at him as he speaks, somehow already knowing what's
coming.

"Are you all right?"

Sirius closes his eyes, blocking out the stars and the cloud littered sky above him, blocking out the
emotions swelling, the sharp, painful stab in the center of his stomach, the tightening in his lungs.
But it doesn't work. It never works, and Sirius knows that now. Nothing ever works.

"No." The word emerges like a gasp, a cutting, breathless sound between them, like Sirius' lungs
are ripping open. It feels like they are. He opens his eyes and looks at his brother forlornly, almost
pleadingly. "No," he says again, broken to pieces, shattering more as he sits there in the night and
the cool air. "No."

Regulus nods slowly, like he hadn't expected anything else in answer. He stares at Sirius through
the darkness with shadowed eyes, only the soft light streaming from the glass panes of the door
highlighting them enough for Sirius to see. He looks as though he doesn't know what else to say to
that, something that Sirius will accept and fold into the center of himself where he really needs it
the most.

The next question that comes startles Sirius so much that he winces and flinches away, the name
leaving his brother's tongue sounding out of place, disjointed. It spreads into the blackness of the
garden and pulls it back toward Sirius, encasing him within it deeply, burying him down until it
steals his breath from him completely.

"Who's Remus?"

Sirius looks away, can't meet Regulus' intense, piercing gaze. "No one," he mutters, the words
ragged as they emerge from his throat.

Regulus releases a faint hum, a small, irritating sound in the silence that surrounds them. "No one?"
he counters smoothly, his voice like butter melting on the pavement during a too hot day. "No one
that makes you look almost exactly as you did when I refused to run to the Potters' with you?"

Sirius rounds on him quickly, fire flashing in his eyes. "He is no one!" he snaps viciously. "He isn't
important." Regulus doesn't move away, doesn't seem fazed by Sirius' hostility or the rage filling
his face. Sirius wilts under his brother's knowing gaze. "Not anymore."
Regulus is quiet for a long while, his gaze sweeping over Sirius again. A small frown pulls the
corners of his mouth down, his dark brows knitting together, the expression forming deeper lines
the longer he sits and watches.

"You love him," he says eventually, not a question, nothing searching or inquiring with in it. It's a
simple statement, but the words send Sirius spinning, reeling away from himself into the darkness,
clawing nails ripping at his heart, spreading it open, exposing it for what it is and all that it
contains, Remus' name written clearly on every available surface within the flapping, stuttering,
struggling muscle. Sirius feels torn down the center of himself, shredded into jagged edges, sewn
back together by careless hands, stuffed full to bursting of sand and ash and bitter dust, forming
around his veins and bones, encasing them until it's crushing and nearly unbearable.

"No," he whispers, but he knows his eyes say something different, Regulus staring into them,
taking it and accepting it for what it is.

They don't speak again until Sirius shifts up, straightening his torso before leaning forward. He
grips his brother's chin between gentle fingers, holding his gaze with a sharp, unrelenting intensity.

"Thank you for being here," he says, gratefulness and some sort of relief flooding through him as
he speaks. "Don't you ever disappear on me again."

Regulus only nods eventually in understanding, in promise, and the two brothers leave it at that.

--------------------

"Who could have possibly told? Who would talk to that horrible woman?"

"Anyone. The whole ruddy team knows what happened here. They've spread it on to their families
and friends, you know they have. Don't act like this is some huge bleeding shock, Minerva. I've got
no patience for it anymore, not one hair of it."

"They wouldn't have said anything," says McGonagall, speaking mostly to herself. "None of them.
They all take their camaraderie seriously. Most of them, at least, but the ones who don't still
wouldn't readily broadcast it in this manner, not to Skeeter." She pauses then, looking up at Moody
as a thought seems to occur to her. "Prewett?" she questions uncertainly.

"Nah," denies Moody. "Wasn't skewed enough in his favor to justify it."

"I'd like to skew him," mutters the woman, still to herself as though she doesn't realize they can
hear her.

Sirius, sitting in one of McGonagall's office chairs, slumps down, feeling defeated, wrung out,
stretched too thin, gaping holes showing through. He's just so fucking tired of it all. He bows his
head forward and scrubs at his face with rough hands.

"What does it matter?" he asks desolately to the other two in the room with him. "It's out there
now. Can't pull it back in. The world knows every dirty little secret I've ever had and a fair few I've
never had, invented for the sake of selling entertainment to the masses. Huzzah."

McGonagall turns to him, her eyes sharp at first, but the intensity fades, softens to something more
pitying. Sirius hates it; hates her in this moment. He'd like nothing more than to never see her or
that look on her face again.

"It matters a great deal, Sirius," she tries to reason. "This isn't just about you, or even this particular
incident. This woman keeps getting information she has no right to have about everyone on this
team. She's dragged everyone's names and images through the mud repeatedly, yours more than
anyone else's. Someone is talking to her, someone close to the team's daily operations. There's no
way they can't be. I know you. While you may be hot-headed and quick to outbursts when your
temper flares, you're no fool, Sirius. You don't speak of matters like this to people you don't trust
implicitly. Which tells me there's always someone nearby, listening in like a mouse secreted away
in a hole of the wall."

McGonagall looks furious, and Sirius supposes rightfully so. She cares about them, hates to see
them go through anything she can't immediately put right again with a little effort and polishing.
She caters to them in her own special way, standing at the edges of everything, fingers planted in
their lives only the perfect amount, carefully manipulating everything, hoping they don't suffer
more than any average person simply because their identities have been shoved into the spotlight.
When her efforts fail, she's irate, livid, harsh and judgmental on herself. Sirius sees this, always has,
and he will never stop appreciating Minerva McGonagall for everything she does to make his life
just a touch easier to bear.

Sirius' head falls back over the edge of the chair as Moody and McGonagall begin bickering again
in front of him. He releases a small groan of frustration. They'll never find who it is. Moody's right,
it could be anyone from the team, no matter how much McGonagall doesn't want to believe it. And
even if that's not the case, there's always plenty of other people milling about the pitch and inside
the stadium that could overhear private conversations at any given time. The whole thing is
pointless and hopeless, nothing more than a witch hunt that will only end in disaster.

His mind drifts away as he sits, no matter how much he resists it, the others' voices fading to a low
drone in the background. Sirius recalls his last heated encounter with Gideon, Benjy spouting off at
the mouth like he's always been so heavily skilled at, Fabian's hissing words of warning to his
brother. He thinks about what he'd overheard Benjy saying about Fabian erupting on Gideon while
the other man complained about the damage to his wrist, closed off inside a room. Sirius finds
himself wondering if anyone else had been present.

His thoughts scatter further, stretching wider, sprawling out, bringing forth memories of other
conversations held between him and his friends on the team, secrets spilled at the worst of times.
For a while, discussions of his family, both abandoned and found, had dominated him, words
seeping from him when his life had felt like it was pressing in too hard, Frank and Benjy always
there to provide a listening, sympathetic ear. Sirius hadn't thought much about it back then, but
someone had almost always been present during those times, when injuries brought up panic and
things he'd thought he'd buried too deeply to rise again. He'd become well-oriented with phasing
the man out, shifting his presence to the background, only acknowledging his existence when
forced to do so, never having much regard for him from the beginning of his fumbling, show-
boating career with the team.

Sirius lifts his head slowly as realization dawns over him like the clearest sunrise. He straightens in
his chair, his mouth pulling into a thin line, anger flooding his features, searing through his veins
until he's shocked he's not outwardly exuding smoke.

"Lockhart," he hisses. The pair in front of him pause in their argument when they hear him speak,
looking at Sirius questioningly. Sirius meets both their gazes in turn, his eyes flashing wrathfully.
"Lockhart," he says again, more clearly, his voice vibrating through him, filling the room with the
rumbling rage. "It's Lockhart. It's always been Lockhart. He's always there in the background. He's
been listening to us talk and feeding Skeeter details of our lives for years."

McGonagall stares at him in disbelief. "That – no, that can't be," she struggles, her dislike for the
man battling with her incredulity that someone mostly trusted with the team's inner workings could
do something so underhanded. "I know you don't have fond feelings for Gilderoy Lockhart, Sirius
– and never think that I do – but that's – that – "

"Makes all the sense in the world," supplies Sirius levelly when the woman flounders. "Ask Fabian
about his argument with his brother a while back after Gideon's wrist was injured. I'll bet
everything in my possession that Lockhart was there for it all."

"That slimy rat," growls Moody darkly. "If I had the ability, I'd turn him into a ferret. Let him
scurry along with the filth like he deserves. Turn Skeeter into a dung beetle to run about with him.
They deserve one another."

Moody turns to leave, limping his way across half the room before McGonagall stops him.
"Alastor, we can't do anything until we're certain."

"Which is why I'm going to talk to Prewett," announces Moody gruffly before disappearing
through the door.

McGonagall looks in Sirius' direction, her expression bewildered. Sirius leans back in his chair, his
emotions melding into a strange mixture of smugness and vehemence. He arches an eyebrow,
clicking his tongue as he does so, and the woman in front of him can only shake her head slowly in
return.

--------------------

He's nervous. Sirius has never been nervous before a match in his life. Excited, restless, on edge, of
course, but never nervous, not even in his early days of playing, not even when he'd first joined the
Association. He'd walked out onto that pitch for his first match, greeted by low, rumbling cheers,
and Sirius had instantly felt alive, floating high in the air, like nothing could ever touch him.

But now, he's nervous, his leg bouncing up and down as he sits on one of the benches within the
changing rooms, watching as the rest of the team mills about, donning their kits, stretching their
legs and backs. They're all ready, amped and feeling the buzz that takes over in the minutes leading
to the first kick. Sirius isn't. Sirius isn't ready at all.

Frank keeps eyeing him in concern from a few places away, Benjy nearby. The latter of the two
had tried several times to pull Sirius out of himself into some form of bantering conversation, but
Sirius hadn't been able to focus enough for it, Benjy finally giving up, him and Frank giving Sirius
space until it's time to make the trek out to the pitch.

What's most concerning and stressful to Sirius currently are the actions of one Gideon Prewett. The
other man stands in the corner of the room, weight leaning back against the wall, arms crossed
over his chest. He's not offering any of his typical taunting remarks to anyone, not even Sirius, not
fixing Sirius with his muddy, pinpointing gaze. Instead, his face is dark and brooding as he stares at
the door leading to the hall beyond the room, something in the expression hostile and vengeful. It
sends chills racing down Sirius' spine every time he catches sight of him from the corner of his
eye, an ominous sense of foreboding creeping over him with every passing minute.

The door bangs open suddenly, startling Sirius from his thoughts, causing his body to jolt a little.
Moody stomps his way into the room, calling them to the pitch. Sirius stands slowly, trying to
ignore his legs shaking beneath him with every step he takes. As they walk onto the pitch, the
cheers barrel into him like a stampede, causing his feet to falter momentarily, but Frank is there,
directly beside him, covering his fumble with a steady hand placed to the back of his shoulder. The
sun beats down on his head as the commentator begins announcing them one by one, each member
of the team racing forward, arms raising above their heads.
When his name is spoken at a rumbling volume, the speakers crackle, the crowd erupts. Screams
meet his ears as Sirius walks away from those remaining behind him with a subtle nudge from
Frank. But between the chants of his name, Sirius hears the low, underlying ridiculing sounds of
those who'd read the media stories, knows what had happened, had taken Gideon's side or are
showing their dismay for the Association as a whole.

His breath snags in this throat, chest hitching under the onslaught of it coming from all sides.
Sirius' typical grin isn't there, nowhere present on his face. He can't force it out. His limbs feel full
of stone, weighing him down as he walks to join his other teammates on the sidelines, Fabian
shifting so that he's separating Sirius and Gideon from one another, a solid, unyielding shield as he
eyes Sirius with uncertainty.

"All right?" he asks as quietly as he can to still be heard over the clamor of sound still assaulting
them. Sirius swallows and nods, though the action is barely existent. Fabian glances sideways at
him, his mouth pulling into a tight line. "All you have to do is play, just like you've done a million
times before. That's all you've got to do, Sirius. Just play the game and then let yourself fall apart
as much as you need. But don't let them see it. You know they won't let it go. And don't let him see
it."

Sirius inhales a stuttering breath as the remainder of the team slowly files in beside them. It's just a
game, he tells himself. Just one game. You can do this. You can. It's just a game.

Moody sends them out to their positions on the pitch, and Sirius keeps repeating the words to
himself over and over like a mantra, focusing on it, using nearly all his energy to not think about
anything else except those words of seeming salvation. The players take off across the pitch as the
match begins in full swing, heading to the opposing team's goal, and Sirius keeps the words going
as he breaks into an immediate run, falling easily back into old patterns.

It's just a game.

People are everywhere around him as they fight for possession. The crowd is still cheering and
screaming. They shift over the pitch like fluid water, flowing easily, moving as a unit, just as they
always have, something almost cohesive there, everything falling back into place nearly perfectly.
But it's not perfect. It's never been perfect.

It's just a game. Just one game. Why do you think this is all you're good for?

The words are faltering in his mind, Lily's insistent, fearful voice intruding. Sirius shakes his head
against it, trying to clear it away, trying to return to the safety of the mantra he's created as he
streaks down the pitch after one of the opposing team members, following the ball in a daze, his
tunnel vision fading.

It's just a game. It's just a game. Only one game and then you can fall apart. You don't actually
want this, I know you don't.

Sirius grits his teeth against it, a flood coming that he can't seem to stop. He stumbles in his sprint,
nearly falling to the ground but he manages to save himself and return to his former pace, hoping
the fumble is barely noticeable. His knee twinges beneath him, but Sirius ignores it.

It's just a game. I just want you to be happy, Sirius. Just one game, then fall apart. Break to pieces.
I'm not happy. I've never been happy. Just a game. Just one bloody game.

But it isn't just a game, isn't only a single match. It's dozens and dozens, stretching over the
continent, spreading and sprawling and never-ending. It's a twisting maze Sirius can't find his way
out of, a labyrinth that's lied to him and has no clear center. Harry's cries hit his ears, drowning out
the thunderous crowd around him, the boy wailing every time Sirius had to leave again, small arms
and hands clinging to his legs, fingers digging painfully into skin, clawing at his shirt and trousers,
begging him not to go.

It's just a game. He always hated it when I had to leave again. Just a game. One game. Only one,
and then another and another after that, a constant, cycling loop of misery. You never smile
anymore.

Sirius stops suddenly in the middle of the pitch, someone nearly crashing into him.

"Get it together, Black," calls Dearborn as he repositions and races past him. "We need your head
in the game."

Get your head in the game. Just one game. It's only a game, and you have to play it. This is your
life, it's what you chose. You chose it over everything else, you stupid fuck. I fucked up. I am a fuck
up. It's all I ever do. I destroy everything I ever touch.

Sirius' legs start moving again and he's plunging forward, the onslaught coming for him not
relenting now. He can't shake it, can't outrun it, a monster's teeth at his back, bared and drooling
and hungry. A vicious, non-existent snarl reaches his ears, and Sirius' mind retreats. His knee
aches, trembles, but still he ignores it, keeps pushing onwards, playing the game, doing what he's
supposed to do, always what he's meant to do.

But then, from nowhere and everywhere at once, another voice washes over him. Remus' soft voice
in the back of his mind, trickling forward like a refilling stream, building volume, building speed,
until it's flooding over him like a dam cracking and breaking.

You're better than all of it, you always have been. Were you fine? Because I think you're lying,
Sirius. You're lying to me and you're lying to yourself. Every person is different. And you are not
most people. You're stronger than all of them. Do you remember that? I won't let you fall. The
person you are is rather brilliant. Don't lose yourself in it, Sirius.

Sirius is gasping for breath, his eyes shifting around the stadium, taking in the faceless sea of the
crowd surrounding him. People soar past him over the pitch, Benjy passing by, eyeing him with
fearful concern but he can't stop. None of them can stop. Sirius glances around, having lost sight of
the ball temporarily, searching it out. He looks over his shoulder, catching a flash of red hair, sees
Gideon's sneering, angry, horrible face. Sirius falters again, stumbles. And then his knee gives out
beneath him with a surge of overwhelming pain.

He crashes to the ground with a muffled cry, hands hitting the grass hard, barely protecting his
head. His knee spasms, locks up, and he's trapped again. Sirius waits. Waits for the inevitable, but
it doesn't come. Silence falls around him before the sharp screech of a whistle pierces the still air,
then there are hands on him. He flails, fights against them until voices reach his ears, not Gideon's,
but Benjy's, Fabian's, Caradoc's.

Sirius lets them roll him to his back, pulling the weight off his leg. Then Moody's face is over him,
looking grave. The referee appears, him and Moody shouting over the din of sound that's returned
around them suddenly. They're arguing, rowing fiercely. Then Sirius is being lifted, hearing them
say something about getting him off the pitch, out of the public eye, assessing the damage.

Before he realizes much of anything, he's in the changing rooms again, laying spread over a bench.
There's a woman hovering above him that he's never seen before, possibly their new
physiotherapist, or maybe the one belonging to the other team. Sirius isn't sure and he doesn't
much care. She prods with sure fingers at his knee and thigh, trailing bones, searching out muscles
and ligaments. She speaks with Moody, tells him she can't find anything wrong, but Sirius should
probably stay away from the remainder of the match until he gets it checked, just in case he's flared
his injury again. Moody curses under his breath even as his eyes sweep over Sirius with solemn
concern.

Frank is there then, talking to Sirius, but he can't focus on any of the words, his head still too full of
everyone else's. He blinks at his friend, struggling for breath, his knee still spasming relentlessly.
Sirius can't take it, not any of it. He pushes himself up against the raging protests around him,
ignoring them as he swings his legs off the bench, sitting up.

"Help me stand," he instructs Frank, but the other man resists until Sirius fixes him with a furious
glare. Frank and Benjy slot arms under him and pull Sirius to his feet. He settles his weight on his
knee, the joint holding but shaking beneath him until it adjusts. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

The strange woman is gone now, McGonagall taking her place by Moody's side. They're having a
heated discussion in hissed words, but Sirius doesn't care much about that. He's fine. He is. He can
stand. He takes a step forward, his friends trying to follow but he pushes them away. He can walk.
He's fine. He's perfectly fine.

"I'm fine," says Sirius again, more for himself than the others, their eyes trained on him.

"You cannot play, Sirius," insists McGonagall. "We won't allow it."

"I'm fine," reiterates Sirius, but even as he says the words with so much conviction, he knows he's
lying. He's not fine, hasn't been since before he set foot on the pitch, having nothing at all to do
with his knee.

"You are done," snaps McGonagall fiercely, fear and overwhelming worry filling her piercing
eyes. "For the day, for this match, you are done. Now sit down."

Sirius stares at her for a brief moment before he caves, slinking backwards and dropping back to
the bench. Everyone continues to argue around him, but then the referee is entering the room,
telling Moody and McGonagall that if they don't make a decision in five minutes, get the team
back on the pitch, they'll be forced to forfeit. Cries of outrage erupt around Sirius, the echoing
sounds a shock to his overloaded senses and mind. Then they're all rushing out, McGonagall and
Moody in the lead, chasing after the referee, arguing as they go.

And then Sirius is alone in the crushing silence of the room. He sits, bowing his head forward,
trying to silence his still screaming mind just a little, just enough for some peace. It doesn't work.

He's startled from his focus when a mobile begins to chirp, loud and insistent. Sirius turns, trying to
pinpoint the sound, finally narrowing it down to his own locker. He stands, testing his knee a little
before limping forward, slinging the door open and pulling his phone from within.

"Pete," he says as he presses the cold rectangle to his ear.

"Bloody hell, Sirius," comes Peter's nearly crazed voice. "You all right? I was watching on the
telly, saw you go down. Is it your knee? That shouldn't have happened. I just checked you
yesterday to be sure before you played. What's happening with it?"

"I – I don't know, Pete," stutters out Sirius, leaning back against the locker for a moment. "It just…
gave out on me." He takes a few cursory steps away from the wall of metal, testing his leg, putting
steady weight on his knee. "It's spasming a little now. Feels a bit weak, but it's holding me all right.
I can walk, just taking it slow." Sirius pauses for a few seconds, listening for any sounds in the
background on Peter's side of the call, hearing nothing, making Sirius wonder where he's been
watching the match. "I think it was twinging before it happened, but I…can't be sure. I wasn't
focusing on it."

Peter doesn't respond for a while, causing Sirius to pull the phone from his ear to make sure he's
still connected. "All right," he finally says slowly, like he's having two different conversations at
once. "I'll get you in for more scans tomorrow. See what's happening, if anything's gone wrong or
been overlooked, but Sirius, I don't think…"

Peter keeps talking, but Sirius isn't paying attention to the words anymore. The changing room
door is now open, though it's steadily swinging closed. His eyes fix on the person standing at the
head of the room, staring him down with a glinting gaze that causes Sirius' heart to putter and falter
in his chest.

As Gideon steps forward with a leering, rage-filled expression, Sirius' hand tightens around the
phone clutched in his fingers.
 Aftermaths, Running, & Decisions
Chapter Notes

TW: Attempted rape/non-con, violence, blood

Oh, look. I did a thing. An early update thing. You're welcome.

Also, I'm sorry.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sirius can't breathe. His legs shake beneath his weight, his entire body trembling like he's been
drenched in ice water. Cold fingers of dread trail down his spine in a greedy way as he watches
Gideon stalk towards him, like a predator with their prey locked within sight, hungry and ready to
pounce.

"Sirius," comes Peter's voice, questioning, prodding for a response. "Sirius, mate. You still there?"

He can't respond, can't force his throat and tongue to work to form words. Gideon steps closer and
closer with slow, purposefully moving feet. Sirius can't get his eyes to shift from his face, though
he wants desperately to look around the room, search for some salvation that he knows doesn't
exist. He's alone, just him and the face from his constant nightmares bearing down on him now
with determination.

"Sirius!" calls Peter, more insistent now. "Answer me! What's happening? Are you all right?"
Sirius hears faint mutterings coming from around Peter, wonders if it's the telly in the background
or if he's moving through a pub somewhere within the city, trying to get free of the crowd just as
Sirius' mind is trying to free itself from his body now.

Gideon stops a step away from him, his gaze darting to the phone pressed to the side of Sirius' face
and back again, eyes sharp and feral. His meaning is clear. Sirius doesn't know what to do, locked
within himself, struggling for something that he can't find. Gideon's eyes narrow at him in warning,
his mouth twisting viciously.

Peter cries out to him again, sounding frantic. He keeps talking, but Sirius can't focus on the words
anymore, not even sure they're meant for him.

His breath returns all at once, a sharp inhale, a shuddering, gasping thing. "Peter," he says faintly,
his voice shaking as it emerges from his straining throat. "I think – think I've got to ring you back."
Gideon smiles approvingly, the expression savage and ominous, threatening.

"What?" demands Peter, his voice high pitched and panicked. "Sirius, what's happening – ?"

"Peter," whispers Sirius, his eyes locked on Gideon's, watching as they flash, seeing the look on
Sirius' face as he comes to a decision, a last-ditch effort, knowing it's his only hope. "Gideon – "

Gideon lunges forward, knocking the phone from Sirius' hand. It clatters to the hard floor, the other
man's foot crashing down on it violently, effectively crushing it beneath his weight, rendering it
useless. They both stare down at it for a short moment before Gideon's gaze slowly lifts back and
fixes on Sirius, eyes hard and dark, fury filling every line on his face.
"Bad move, Sirius," he says quietly, his tone nearly emotionless, something cruel and promising
vibrating just beneath the surface. "Suppose you won't be ringing him back after all, will you? Pity
for you."

Sirius finally gets his body to respond enough to attempt to take a step backwards, trying to create
distance between them. Gideon's eyes flash vindictively again, his hand soaring up, there before
Sirius even sees it coming. Fingers latch around his throat, pressing into the sides, grip hard, firm,
cutting off his air supply. His own fingers scrabble at flesh instinctually as he gasps, though Sirius
knows it's useless, the hand too tightly locked in place.

Gideon shoves him back against the wall of lockers, the metal rattling and clanging from the force.
"Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?" he hisses in Sirius' face as his fingers
continue to claw at the skin of hands and arms, begging for release from the strangling hold. Nails
bite into his flesh as fingers dig in deeper, the grip tightening, white spots bursting over Sirius'
vision. "Talk to Skeeter, put it all out there, land the pressure down on my shoulders like I deserve
it, like you weren't begging for it every time you looked at me."

"L-L-Lockhart," manages Sirius, but barely. Gideon's grip hardens, bruising the skin of Sirius' neck
where it clamps down.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" demands Gideon, acid on his tongue, spitting like an
enraged snake, ready to strike, leaning closer as the words emerge. "A lie of convenience, easy to
steer in the right direction. And you did that so well, didn't you? You always were good at conning
everyone around you. But I see through it. I always have. That pretty little face of yours, that
flawless Sirius Black grin. You use it all like a weapon, but that's all right. I see you for who you
really are." Gideon's hand pushes in harder, black forming around the edges of Sirius' vision,
slowly drowning out the white bursts like static creeping in. "Just a scared, pitiful little man, too
lost in himself to do much of anything worthwhile. Weak. So perfectly weak and…pliant."

Sirius' nails still rake frantically over skin ripped raw from him efforts, but his arms are falling
heavy, beginning to lose their fight as he struggles to breathe around the clamping hand at his
throat. The black encroaches further, slowly overtaking him, his mouth hanging open, no oxygen
passing through it no matter how desperately he tries. His chest is stuttering, heaving, spasming,
lungs constricting, drying up. Sirius stares into Gideon's face, sees the ire setting his eyes aflame, is
sure the other man won't stop until he's dead, but all he can think is at least Gideon's hands aren't
on any other part of his body.

"And then, as if spouting your tales to the media wasn't bad enough," growls Gideon, body
pressing in closer, the blood already rushing through Sirius' ears at high speeds pounding louder,
"you somehow pull my brother to your side. My brother, Black. And you think you can force me
out, get me to retire, when this is my time? You're washed up. No one cares about you. That little
display you just pulled on the pitch showed everyone how much you don't matter anymore. I'm not
going anywhere, but you are."

Sirius can barely hear the words anymore, his arms falling limp, dropping and dangling at his
sides. The blackness is nearly all encompassing now. His body slumps, eyes fluttering as he still
tries to fight against it all, but he can't, not now, not with the hand still clutching around his throat,
crushing it inwards. Sirius' legs give way beneath him as his eyes finally fall closed, surrendering
himself over to it, no choice left for him.

Gideon's grip relents just enough for Sirius to draw in a sudden, gasping breath of air, his eyes
snapping open again. His arms flail under the force of oxygen returning to his lungs, hands
slamming into the wall of lockers behind him, fingers scraping over cold, ridged metal. His feet
scrabble beneath him, trying to regain their purchase on the floor, support his weight, relieve more
of the crushing pressure from his throat. The blackness retreats from his vision slowly as he
focuses back on Gideon's face, looming over him like a specter of coming ruination.

"Oh, no, Sirius," murmurs Gideon, his voice almost sweet, low and soft, promising terrible things
as Sirius' chest heaves for more struggling breaths. One finger glides of the skin of Sirius' neck, the
other man's hand still clamped firmly enough to keep him pinned in place. "You don't get off that
easily. What would be the purpose of that? I came so close to breaking you last time. I can see it in
your eyes, just there, right beneath the surface."

Gideon smiles then, a horrible, wretched, disturbing expression, twisting his features into a
ghoulish quality that turns Sirius' veins to ice where he stands. He leans in closer, mouth directly
beside Sirius' ear, breath hot and humid as it bounces off his skin when he whispers, "Now I'm
going to break you so hard and completely you'll never recover. Rip you to shreds and leave you in
your misery forever, right where you deserve."

Sirius' chest hitches, air catching painfully. He squeezes his eyes closed, can't bear to keep them
open, hearing Gideon chuckle in front of him when he sees, the sound low and deep, the invisible
fingers returning to his spine, trailing downwards, sending chills racing through his entire body. He
goes rigid when a hand presses over his groin, Sirius biting back the stomach twisting sound that
tries to escape him. The palm rubs over him, Sirius hardening against his will at the touch, his
mind too gone now to resist it, and he can feel Gideon's terrible, satisfied smile without having to
look.

"At least you're acting better than last time," hisses Gideon into Sirius' ear, his hand still marking
its purposeful path. He cups him through fabric and Sirius tenses. "That's what I call
improvement." His tone is smug, vibrating through Sirius is the worst ways.

Fingers drift up, slipping beneath his waistband. They wrap around him, and Sirius moans low in
his throat, a desperate, keening sound he can't fight back. His body submits against his will, his
mind retreating, like it's all given up, like its being packed in and out, letting it happen without
protest now, because what's the point anymore? His own fingers hook and claw into the metal
under his hands, hanging on, trying to hold one small piece of himself together and present.

"No," he begs in a whisper, voice gone, running away, everything in him collapsing. Gideon only
laughs in answer, his strokes continuing, harsh and cruel in their pull.

Sirius caves inwards on himself, his body shaking under the hold at his throat and the rough hand
manipulating him. His brain is still screaming loudly even as it refuses to help him fight, voices
sounding like a deafening cacophony, echoing and jumbled together, distorted, Sirius unable to tell
one apart from another, words bleeding into others. But then, suddenly, like a blinding light, like a
sunrise breaking the hills and sending the shadows retreating, the monsters slinking back to their
holes, one crests high above the swell of the others, thunderous and true and so clear it sends a
shock racing through Sirius.

You're so much stronger and so much better than this one thing or this one person who chose to
manipulate the world around him to force it into something he liked better. He tried to break you,
but I don't think he did. You are perfectly brilliant in every way, and someone like Gideon Prewett
will never change that. This is his darkness. Don't make it yours as well. I'll be the lamplight, all
the nights in the darkness. You're better than him. I'm not going to let you forget that. You are not
ruined.

Sirius' eyes snap open as Remus' voice fills him full, all his words always so full of certainty, never
any doubt lingering around the edges. The way he'd viewed Sirius slowly and surely shining new
light over how he'd began to see himself. Sirius isn't weak, not if he doesn't allow himself to be. He
isn't a puppet to be manipulated and used. He isn't anyone's plaything, least of all Gideon Prewett's.

"No!" he shouts fiercely in the other man's face, his hand launching up, fingers wrapping firmly
around the wrist dipping below his waist. "No. Not again. Never again."

Gideon glares back at him, eyes filling with unrestrained fury. His hand tightens its hold around
Sirius' throat, Sirius jolting a little from the sudden increase in pressure, his lungs beginning to
struggle once more. Gideon shakes his failing grip away from his wrist after a combative moment
and then reaches down, gaze fixed on Sirius' face as he smiles ruthlessly. His fingers dig into his
knee, attempting to repeat a past successful action. His grip is hard, should be painful, but it isn't,
because Sirius' knee is no longer broken and mending.

Gideon frowns when he doesn't receive a response, looking back up at Sirius slowly. Sirius' eyes
flash when their gazes meet, rage running rampant through him, his body responding in a different
way, his fight returning, Remus screaming in his mind along with his own bulwark of a voice.

"I said no," growls Sirius, his arm coming up before he can think about it, elbow slamming down
brutally onto Gideon's outstretched limb, still trying to hold him in place.

Gideon stumbles back in shock, clutching at his arm in pain. But when his eyes settle back on a
panting Sirius in front of him, something animalistic floods his expression. He roars out in fury,
careening forward, shoving Sirius back into the wall of lockers hard, the metal clanging and
protesting loudly from the treatment. Sirius grunts at the impact, his head jarring with it as fingers
claw at his face, blunt nails scrabbling over flesh, causing scrapes and small cuts.

Sirius grapples against the insistently pawing hands, fingers gripping around wrists and trying to
force him back again, but Gideon uses his weight to stay in place, too furious to be uprooted again
as he leans forward, trapping Sirius' body. Sirius does the only thing he can think to do, bringing
his leg up and stabbing his heel over the top of Gideon's foot as hard as he can, just enough effort
and pain to give the man pause as he grunts and stumbles a little under the searing sensation.
Hands slip away from his face and Sirius uses the temporary reprieve to push at Gideon's
shoulders, spinning them around, shifting their positions, and banging the other man back against
the rattling metal.

Gideon looks disoriented for a moment and Sirius uses that, too, his fingers winding into the fabric
of his shirt, pulling him back, and then slamming his back and head against the lockers forcefully.
The other man jolts under his hold from the impact, a loud grunt of pain sounding between them.

"Fuck your taunts." Sirius pulls him back and pushes him again, the red head jarring and bouncing.
"Fuck your casualness." Slam. "Fuck your sneering face and your belief I ever wanted any of this."
Push and crash. "Fuck your hands and your mouth and your ineffectual cock." Head rattling, metal
clanging and ringing sharply in the otherwise silence of the room. "Fuck you for thinking you
could ever break me."

Sirius releases his grip, Gideon wobbling a little in front of him before sliding down to the floor.
His head is bleeding, painting the dirty white floor crimson as he slips along its surface where he
collapses. He lays there groaning faintly, half-unconscious, fingers flexing a little, like he's still
trying to reach out for Sirius, pull him back, shatter him more. Sirius hauls his foot back and kicks
at his side, blinded by rage and hurt and everything crushing.

"And fuck you," he snarls.

Gideon releases another small groan at the assault to his ribs before he falls still, whatever
tenseness still retained in his body slipping out of him as he's pulled into full unconsciousness.
Sirius stares down at him, panting, chest heaving from the force, breaths trying to escape faster
than they'll pull into his lungs. His rage quickly begins to leech away, leaving behind the
mounting, decimating panic again, cold fingers gripping around his heart, raking down his spine,
turning his knees weak beneath him. His upper body shudders as he pants cease and he struggles
for one smooth breath, his chest and lungs resisting it, heart pounding, blood rushing through his
ears at a deafening volume.

Sirius glances up from the man on the floor, eyes darting around the room frantically. His hands
shake and he clenches them into fists, nails biting into the skin of his palms, the faint pain
grounding him a little, just enough, though his mind seizes. What does he do?

The team is on the pitch in front of thousands, probably still arguing since no one had yet searched
Gideon out to resume playing. Sirius considers finding them, trying to remain calm long enough to
coax them back out of public view, but he can't do it, doesn't want it. He can't stand to see the looks
of anger and pity and disbelief on their faces again. Can't bear the horrified expression coming
from McGonagall and the overwhelming disappointment from Moody. He can't deal with Benjy's
snarled words of rage and defensiveness, can't handle Frank's calming murmurs, doesn't want to
look into Fabian's eyes when he realizes his brother had tried it again.

So Sirius runs. He turns on his heel and crashes through the door, leaving his things behind, his
phone useless now. He barrels down the corridor, pounding footsteps echoing off the walls as he
races as fast as he can towards the private exit. He shoves at the metal bar across the door, pushing
his way through it, hand raising to shield his eyes from the overbright sun peeking through the
gloomy haze of clouds trying to steal it away from sight.

He drops his head and moves around the mostly secluded car park to his bike, slinging his leg over
it, the machine roaring to life beneath him. The vibration of the engine usually has an almost
calming effect on him, but it doesn't sink in today, not now. Sirius' body shudders, his hands shake,
clenching around the handlebars as he tries to hold himself together enough to just drive.

Sirius lifts the bike up straight, pulls his legs up, and then he's lurching forward, tires squealing a
little in his haste to escape. He's halfway across the sprawling asphalt lot when he suddenly stops
again, the motorbike rolling to a halt between two long rows of empty cars on either side of him.
Sirius drops his feet to the ground, holding himself upright as he stares around.

Where does he go? His first thought is home, James and Lily and Harry. He sees their welcoming,
concerned, loving faces in his mind and Sirius closes his eyes as they fill him up. But then they're
morphing, disappointment taking away the warmth in their expressions, exasperation, exhaustion
from constantly having to deal with all Sirius' little problems on an always spinning, circling basis,
one barely ending and evaporating before another forms in its place.

When is he going to stop being such a burden to everyone he cares about? When is he going to stop
bringing horror after horror down upon their heads? The thought of running back to his friends, his
family, with this same festering, endless barrage of shite makes him feel violently ill, saliva
gathering and pooling in his mouth like stinging acid. Sirius can't keep doing this, this relentless
cycle of crushing despair, of brokenness that never goes away or heals at all.

Almost everything can be healed, Sirius.

He chokes, bending at his middle, collapsing over the handlebars, his spine curving from the
weight of it all, eyes squeezing closed as he feels himself splitting down the center. How? he wants
to scream at someone, everyone, one person.
Sirius sucks in a sharp, gasping breath, his chest, his entire body shuddering with it. He straightens,
hands gripping the bars, and then he lurches forward again, wind whipping at his hair, come loose
from the knot that had once been formed. Sirius goes to the only place he can think of in his nearly
disintegrating mind. He goes home.

--------------------

The lock sticks a little from so long of disuse when he sticks his key in and twists. Sirius fights with
it, rattling the door a bit, until it finally gives way and clicks open. The towering piece of wood
swings wide, knocking into the wall behind it before it bounces back, tries to close again, Sirius
standing rooted to the spot, only reaching out a hand to stop its progress right before it latches
again.

Stepping inside slowly, he looks around, takes in the thick layer of dust coating everything in sight.
There are a few sheets of plastic covering various bits of furniture, a small protection against the
weight of the mostly undisturbed elements within. Lily had once come round weekly to clean and
tidy, making sure everything was presentable for the rare times Sirius found himself venturing
back to his flat, but since his injury, she'd finally stopped upon realizing he wouldn't be coming
back, at least for a decent length of time.

He finds himself wondering, as the door closes behind him with a soft snick of sound, why he's
here now. Why had he thought this was the best idea, the best place he could run? Standing in the
small entrance to his flat, staring around at his useless possessions he cares almost nothing about, it
makes no sense to his rattled brain.

Sirius hates it here. He's always hated it here, since the first time he'd laid eyes upon it. He's not
even sure why he'd bought the place to begin with other than to say he had, to say he had a home to
go to even if he never used it. The emptiness that has always prevailed here, along with the silence,
is stifling now, nearly suffocating. It grips his lungs in clutching, relentless fingers, and Sirius
staggers back a little, shoulder running into the wall before he steadies and rights himself once
more.

He reaches up, scrubbing hands over his face roughly, trying to shake himself out of it all. Lifting
his head, attempting to hold it higher than how he feels, he strides across the space purposefully,
his footsteps echoing around him, hunching his shoulders more and more with every ricocheting
sound, amplifying the screaming in his mind.

Sirius switches on his sound system at the far side of the room positioned beside the wide stretch
of windows, the view of London out the glass normally breathtaking but only serving to increase
the panic inside him. The system takes a moment to pull his music from the cloud before
prompting him for a selection, Sirius stabbing at a few random buttons almost blindly, only
needing to fill the silence, alleviate it, drown out the voices that won't leave him alone now.

I've been lost inside a million eyes. They don't see me. They don't know what it's like. Draining
colors into black and white. No one's reading all the words that I write.

Sirius sinks down into a nearby chair, ignoring the cough of dust that explodes as he connects with
the fabric. His eyes shift around, taking in the smattering of frames covering the walls at odd
intersections, the little baubles on tables and shelves, the rugs spread over his flooring, meant to
encourage warmth but always falling short. He stares at all the little things Lily – and a few times
James – had tried to fill the flat with, trying to instill a sense of home within that had never worked,
not once.

Silent voices to a distant crowd. I'm still singing but there's no one around. I keep screaming 'til my
lungs run out, but no listens, no words coming out.

The emptiness surrounding him is crushing, like an overbearing weight that won't budge no matter
how much he tries to shift. All his worst memories are clamoring to the surface, the voices still
raging inside his mind, a cacophony of screeching at a deafening level and not relenting. It's a
swell, rising higher inside him, overpowering the music attempting and failing to drown them out.
With every word blared through the speakers near his head, they scream louder, more insistently,
telling him things he'd rather keep ignoring, doesn't want to listen to or ever hear again.

Low, feel the weight of the world in my bones. Try to swim but I'm sinking alone. Always falling in
the deep unknown.

His skin crawls from the merciless feeling of hands covering him. Fingers dig in, muddy green eyes
glaring behind them, dark, foreboding grey and black eyes as so much hurt pours over him like it's
all happening again, so many years of pain and abuse, never easing, never relinquishing him.
Sirius' mind struggles to fight back against it, replacing the gripping fingers with caring ones, skin
that brushes lovingly, tenderly. Hazel eyes, green eyes, blue eyes, honey-brown eyes flicker past
his blurring vision until they're all gone but the last, the warmth there, the care, but then the agony
comes back, flooding it all away, the betrayal still so thick he can taste it like acrid smoke on his
tongue, everything he'd started to hold so close and dear set to flame like it had never mattered at
all.

Now I'm fighting with my hands up, hands up. Feel the bullets from your head rush, head rush. I
can see you, but I can't touch, can't touch, 'cause I feel numb. So infected with your bad blood, bad
blood. Keep on running 'til it blows up, blows up. All I wanted was a real love, but I feel numb.

And why should it have mattered? What has Sirius ever done in his wretched life to deserve
something as good as it had all seemed to be? Of course there was a second shoe and of course it
had finally dropped, just when he'd begun to think he really was safe this time, held close and
protected, loved in a way he never had been before. But he hadn't deserved any of it, not a second
of the happiness he'd thought he'd finally found, knowing, for the first time in his life, what that
truly felt like. Why else would it have been ripped away from him so suddenly and cruelly?

It's the only answer Sirius can form, and as the song changes in his ears, he bends forward, spine
collapsing under the pressure of it all. Something has severed inside him, finally. A cord pulled too
tightly for too long has snapped, broken, been hacked away at far too much to stay whole. His body
rattles with the force, the tension that leaves and also wells somewhere deeper, his mind caving in
with it, the walls coming down with an explosion of booming sound.

As these judging eyes surround me in silence tearing me apart, only seeing to the surface, they
refuse to see my heart. In this mold that they have made me, tried so hard to fit in tight. Every day's
a punishment for being human but the wrong kind.

Sirius digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until blackness encroaches, jerking his hands away
quickly as he shakes. Everything is ricocheting inside him like an event surging, something
cataclysmic mounting, threatening what's left that makes him who he is. Nothing is right anymore.
Nothing has been right for so very long that Sirius can't remember if it ever actually been at some
distant point in his life. Nothing had ever settled and taken like it should have. Except, it had. Two
things, one thing…

All their heavy words I carry, try to grind them down to dust, but the pile's getting so deep, pretty
soon it's gonna bury us. I see two paths that sit before me, the decision's mine to make. Do I wear
the mask and follow, or pay the price of being brave?
Sirius' mind comes to a fumbling halt. He can't do it, can't go there again even if it's all his heart is
screaming for. He can't stop the trembles overtaking him now, the struggling breaths that seem to
refuse to pull in or exhale out, like he's being drowned in an icy lake, frozen slowly, everything he
is stuttering and dying away like a lightbulb dimming and then blinking from existence.

Gideon's terrible taunts echo inside him, rattling against crumbling, decimated walls. Benjy's harsh
threats and ire ripping his stomach to shreds. James' face, now seeming to be locked in a permanent
state of pinched fear flashes over his vision. Lily, reaching out with gentle fingers, pleading for
touch, begging to comfort, Sirius pulling away more often than not, unable to bear any of it.

No need to say that I'm immoral. No need to tell me I'm a freak. Don't waste your breath, you made
that more than clear in the way you look at me. The only choices that you give me, two different
way I can be killed. Hate my life for being fake or hate myself for being real.

Sirius groans low in his throat, a sound filled with misery and agony as it continually washes over
him. He's stuck again, trapped in it all. His family, his constant disappointment to his friends,
Gideon and his leering, sneering face, Regulus' quiet, certain observations and timid words over
increasingly frequent phone calls, Peter's not quite hidden concern, Marlene's silent judgement of
his choices, his life that hasn't been his life in a long time, always striving for perfection under the
constantly staring eyes of the world at large.

Fabian's words wash over his again like a torrential wave. I want a life. I just want to be me. It
cripples him, grinds his already shattered pieces to flecks of dust, until they're unrecognizable, can
never be put right again. Sirius can't stop the sob that chokes its way out of him, his throat straining
around it, closing up on it all, trying to keep the swell of emotions reined in, held in check, but it
doesn't work.

Every day I wanna die, but nobody helps 'cause they're too busy praying I'll be someone else.
Every day is full of pain that they have never felt, but they're too busy praying I'll be someone else.

Sirius lurches to his feet, paces, seethes silently. Fingers push into his hair and he pulls, yanks hard,
trying to feel something, anything other than the crushing anguish coating his every cell. Rageful
sobs come in waves now, angry and violent and all he can seem to do as he loses himself again,
maybe for the final time.

It doesn't work. Nothing works. He doesn’t know why he's here. This flat isn't helping. Nothing
can help him now. He has no idea why he'd thought this was a good idea, fleeing, running away
from everything, running here. But where else could he have gone that would have made in
difference. James and Lily would have just filled him with guilt amid everything else. Regulus is
still too tightly interwoven into their family, still too much of an unknown, the two brothers trying
to navigate their ways back to one another. The one safe place Sirius could think of is no longer
safe, no longer filled with that all-consuming warmth and sense of welcoming embrace, no longer
fills him with a sense of belonging, lost to betrayal and thick lies spreading over months and
months. But still he wants it, longs for it, is desperate for it, not just the spaces of warmth, but the
constant, dizzying warmth of who those places belong to, who they exist because of, were created
for with a careful, gentle, guiding freckled hand.

These wounds aren't healing, and I am scared to death that I'll look into the mirror and believe the
things they've said. No, I wasn't ready for the shame so heavy. Maybe they will never understand.
Can't keep facing this fire, I'm so damn tired of being who I am.

Sirius stops abruptly, hands falling into fists, dull nails biting into his palms, bursts of pain searing
through him that he barely registers as his breaths get caught in his chest, refusing to emerge. And
then he's screaming, arms flying wide, swinging into the shelf beside him. Knick knacks and
baubles sail to the floor, crashing and shattering into pieces. The sounds jar him but don't give him
pause. One fist soars at the wall, slamming into it hard and bouncing back, something snapping,
cracking loudly even over the music. Sirius roars and wails, falling to his knees, bending at his
middle as he clutches his hand and cries, releasing everything into the void that's now his life, his
every surrounding.

He can't stay here. He's terrified of what will happen, what he'll do, if he does. Already it presses
down harder and harder, twisting his mind in the worst way, horrible thoughts springing up and
festering just beneath the surface, trying their best to cling on and not let go. Sirius pushes himself
up from his knees, teetering a little with the effort to remain standing. And then he flees.

--------------------

The mechanical, rattling, drawn out chimes in his ear are grating things as he waits for them to
stop. His hands are sweating, causing the phone to slip within his fingers. He presses it more firmly
against his ear, teeth gritting together tightly with every noise vibrating through him.

"James." The voice that answers on the other side of the call pulls the building irritation away
again, leaving behind the overwhelming terror he's been feeling for over two hours now. It's
panicked, breathless, like the person attached has been running or pacing, fear filling them and
soaking into their bones, something James feels all too much.

"Remus," responds James after a few seconds of silence. He opens his mouth to speak again, to say
something, anything, but nothing comes out, everything sticking in his throat where every horrible
emotion he's feeling keeps getting caught and not moving.

"Is he okay? Safe. Is he safe?" Remus' tone is desperate, pleading, hints of guilt at its edges like he
thinks he doesn't have any right to ask, no right to truthful answers, but sounding like he can't help
or restrain himself. "James, please."

"I – you haven't seen him?" whispers James miserably. Something heavy settles in the pit of his
stomach. He thinks maybe it's his heart, giving way under the press of the fear.

"No, I – " Remus stops suddenly, like James' words are only just registering. "You don't know
where he is." The quiet statement hits James hard, and he closes his eyes against the way almost all
emotion seems to wash from the other man's voice as he speaks.

"He – he ran," stutters James, hopelessness washing over him. "I think he ran. No one's seen him."
His head thumps back against the seat of his car where he sits, the vehicle parked on the side of
some monotonous street within the city. "Lily and I are out looking for him now."

"His flat," tosses out Remus.

"He was there," says James slowly, remembering the mess he'd stepped in on, the broken objects
spread over the floor, the dent in the wall, blood stains surrounding it, "but he's not now. I've
searched everywhere I know to look. Lily's checked in with everyone. She's even been calling
hospitals."

"Hospital," echoes Remus faintly, going quiet for a brief time. "James, something – something
happened. I think. I don't know. I was with Peter, watching the match with him. We saw Sirius go
down. Peter rang him, they were on the phone. And then Sirius…he – he just stopped responding,
went silent. Peter put him on speaker, and we could hear him breathing but that was all. And then
he told Pete he'd call back. Pete, he…he tried to argue, check on him, but Sirius just – fuck, James.
He said Gideon's name. And then there was a clatter and the phone disconnected.
"Pete tried to ring back, but he only ever got his voicemail after that. I tried to go to the stadium,
but they wouldn't let me in no matter how much I argued." Remus sounds frantic now. "James, he
– Gideon. He was there. Sirius was terrified, I could hear it in his voice."

James closes his eyes tightly, his chest shuddering. "I know," is all he can manage to say. Remus
doesn't respond, a stillness falling between them over the phone. James swallows back some of the
bile rising in his throat. "We went, too, when we saw him go down, when we didn't get an answer
on his mobile, but he was gone by the time we arrived. Gideon was – "

He's forced to stop again, the words thick and biting, filled with a crushing sort of fear and despair.
"Gideon was on the floor, someone was checking him over. Remus. Remus there was blood. So
much blood. He was bleeding from his head, just unconscious, bruised, but I – know one knows if
it was only his or not." He chokes a little, his voice disappearing with it. "They weren't there, none
of them. The team. They don't know what happened, what shape Sirius was in when he left or even
why he left."

"So no one knows if Gideon…?" begins Remus, but he trails off, like he rethinks the question,
doesn't want the answer, can't speak the words.

James isn't sure what causes it, but he's never felt so much like crying in his entire life, the
hopelessness swelling and cresting, knowing his friend is out there somewhere, maybe hurt,
probably broken far worse than ever before, and completely alone.

"I don't know what to do, Remus," admits James, and his voice is a weak shadow of itself,
crumbling around the edges quickly, everything disintegrating. "I've searched everywhere I can
think of he would go and even places I knew he wouldn't. I can't find his bike anywhere and his
phone is destroyed. He left it behind. There's no way to track him. I don't know what to do." And
he's sobbing now, the sounds wracking through his body, desperate tears springing to his eyes but
still refusing to fall through some sort of remaining pride or too much despair or crippling fear for
his brother now seemingly lost to him. He sits, shaking within the confines of his too warm, stuffy
car, crying without really crying, releasing it all, every bit of torment and anguish he's felt for
Sirius for months now.

Remus is quiet, not saying anything in response, everything on the other side of the phone silent,
not that James would be able to hear it over the sound of his sobs. James begins to wonder if he's
still there at all, wouldn't blame him if he isn't, but he knows as the idea springs to mind that it isn't
true. Remus is in love with Sirius, even James had been able to see that before this entire Moony
mess had evolved around them. He won't abandon him now.

"James," the other man says eventually, his voice shaking, "I don't have any answers. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. Every place I can think of, I doubt he'd ever go back to on his own. But I'll keep
thinking, and I'll come help you look for – did you check the dragonfly?"

The sudden shift in words and tone startle James from his terror-filled sobs. "Dragonfly?" he asks
in a thick voice, full of confusion. "What dragonfly?" Remus doesn't immediately respond, and
James' mind is sent into a tailspin.

When Remus finally speaks, he sounds firm, like he's made some sort of decision. "I think I know
where he is."

--------------------

Sirius is sitting on the large wooden bench, staring at the pavement under his feet, no idea how
long he's been here, when he feels someone sit down beside him. He lifts his head slowly, frown
working into place, intending to tell them to bugger off somewhere else, but he stops, freezes up,
when he's met with warm honey.

His face pulls, narrows in on itself as he glares at Remus. Sirius' back goes rigid, his shoulders
hunching in further, chin tilting down almost defensively. He attempts to shift away but he's out of
bench space, stuck where he is unless he gets up and walks away. But where would he go then?

"Go away, Remus," he mutters, voice sounding dead to his ears. Remus doesn't move, never even
shifts, still sitting still as a stone, staring at Sirius. "I said go away!" roars Sirius furiously, anger
and hurt and helplessness welling up inside of him. Remus glances around their surroundings at
Sirius' loud, echoing response, looking wary and nervous.

"No," says Remus firmly once he looks back at Sirius, his own shoulders squaring, eyes hardening,
turning to steel. "No, I'm not leave you. Not alone. You're – Sirius, you're falling apart. I can see it.
I won't leave you like this. I never have. I'm not starting now."

Sirius throws his head back and laughs, the sound strained, cruel, a little manic. "No, you're right,"
he agrees nastily. "You never left me. You only lied to me worse than anyone else has my entire
life." He drops his head back down again, looking at the space between them and not at Remus.
"And doesn't that say everything there is to say about you."

Silence stretches between them, and Sirius doesn't attempt to fill it, but when nearly a minute
passes and Remus still hasn't responded with anything, he finally looks up at him again. Remus is
staring, eyes filled with horror, unblinking, not breathing, mouth gaping a little, gaze fixed on
Sirius' neck. He frowns at first, tilting his head a bit, unable to help the spark of curiosity that
settles over him. But then, like a wave crashing against the rocks, he remembers.

His hand jerks up to his throat, fingers pressing. Sirius hisses faintly when he encounters
outrageously tender patches, guessing from that and Remus' reaction that he's viciously bruised
from Gideon's clasping hand. Remus seems to come back to himself as Sirius moves away from his
neck, the other man's fingers reaching out slowly, angling toward his throat. Sirius lurches back,
swatting the hand away, ignoring the fire that licks at his veins from the brief contact, glowering
with narrowed eyes at the other man.

"Don't touch me," he snarls. "You lost that right."

Remus winces a little at the harshness in Sirius' voice, but his hand drops away, his entire body
shifting across the bench a little, giving Sirius more space. His brown eyes dart over Sirius, taking
in the bruising on his neck, drifting downward, like he's searching for things he can't with the
naked eye, his gaze finally coming to rest on Sirius' bloodied, blossoming purple mess of a hand.
He's fairly certain at least two of his fingers are broken, possibly a few of the bones on the backside
of it.

"I know," says Remus eventually, his voice small, sad. Sirius closes his eyes against it. "I'm sorry."
He draws in a shuddering breath, like he's working himself up to something. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I
really am, but I – I need you to tell me what happened. Please. Did he…?" Remus lets his words
falter, swallowing roughly around something. "Did he hurt you again?"

Sirius can feel his eyes on his neck, but he doesn't look at the other man, can't bear it, terrified he'll
see those brown irises again and fall into them, all his previous words still rattling so loudly
through his head. His hand lifts back to his throat as he bows his head, shaking it a little, squeezing
his eyes more firmly closed.

"No. Not like – like before," he struggles out. "But he tried." And Sirius can't resist this part,
doesn't have the will to even attempt it. It all falls from his tongue like heavy syrup, leaving a thick
coating behind that tries to choke him as they spill. He tells Remus everything from the time he
entered the changing rooms before the match. Tells him about fighting Gideon off, about running,
desperately searching for somewhere to go, ending up at his flat, breaking things, punching his
wall, running again.

Remus listens intently, clearly trying not to react too much, trying to keep Sirius calm, attempting
not to startle him. When Sirius is finished, falling quiet, head bowing further in shame, Remus
clears his throat.

"There's nothing wrong with your knee, Sirius," he says knowingly. "I've seen the scans. I've kept
up with you progress from a distance. You're healed. That's not why your knee gave out on you
today."

Sirius' head jerks back up, eyes glaring again. "Are you about to give me that shite about my
mentality again, Lupin?" he snaps. "Save it. I don't want to hear it. I don't need to hear it. I know,
all right? I know. I'm a fucking mess, just like I've always been. I ran onto that pitch, and I couldn't
take it. It was too much."

"You don’t want to be there anymore," murmurs Remus, voice low, almost soothing. "You haven't
for a long time."

"No," whispers out Sirius, his entire body shuddering as he tries to keep breathing, the guilt of it all
nearly drowning him.

Remus shifts just a little closer, bending forward slightly, closing the distance only a small amount.
Sirius doesn't try to stop him, doesn't resist it, can't manage it right now with everything else still
trying to crush him down and pulverize him to nothing. He sits in and caves in on himself instead,
arms wrapping around his middle tightly, injured hand aching, but he has to hold himself together
somehow.

"You don't have to, Sirius," says Remus like it's the simplest thing in the world. "I've been trying to
tell you that for months, since the first day you stepped into my office, and I saw how miserable
you were on the inside. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, not ever. You need to
stop letting other people tell you that you do. And you need to stop telling yourself."

Sirius leans his head back, letting it fall between his shoulders. His eyes press closed again. He
tries to breathe. He just needs to keep breathing, that's all. Why is that so hard to do anymore?

Remus shifts a little closer again, like Sirius is a magnet pulling him in. He opens his eyes, head
rolling to the side, watching him, feeling lifeless, void, empty.

"You have to – " the other man begins, but he stops short when a noise sounds from somewhere
nearby, something familiar about it, like a mechanical eye winking. A camera snapping.

Remus' head slowly turns, taking in their surroundings again before looking back at Sirius, his face
calm, a carefully sculpted mask, but his eyes are wider than they were before. "We need to get you
out of here," he says levelly, his tone not invoking panic, but Sirius feels it rise regardless.

He glances down at himself and curses silently. He's still in his full kit, his name emblazoned in
bright red of his back, nickname bold and prominent over his heart. Sirius looks back up, moving
just as slowly as Remus. There are only a few obvious people nearby, some pointing their phones
in his direction for pictures while others simply stare. But it's enough, because soon there will be
more, after the articles, after Sirius collapsing and then running out on the match, never appearing
again. People will flock to this park and the dragonfly bench where they sit.

Sirius nods slowly, almost imperceptibly, swallowing around the fear that's rising again. He can't
talk to anyone now, not strangers or, worse, the media. He'll break, snap. Whatever pictures are
being taken now will have the bruises around his neck on sharp display, his pale skin highlighting
them perfectly.

Remus begins to stand but pauses, glancing over Sirius briefly before his shoulders and arms are
twisting and flexing. He works his way out of his overshirt and hands it to Sirius once it's removed.

"Put that on," instructs Remus. "It won't stop the people that have already noticed you, but it'll hide
the jersey from anyone else we happen across between here and the car."

Sirius doesn't argue, swinging the shirt around himself and shifting his arms through it. He buttons
it at the front once it's settled and then they stand and casually depart from the bench in the
direction of the cars. Sirius wonders belatedly how many people had noticed him as he'd driven
aimlessly through the city this afternoon.

When they reach the small car park, Remus immediately heads toward his car, but Sirius hesitates,
the other man turning to look back at him when he realizes he's no longer being followed. He
frowns at Sirius, taking in his uncertain expression, brows pinching together.

"My bike," says Sirius in answer, glancing in its direction.

"James is going to come and collect it," responds Remus, like it had been a plan made long ago.
Sirius looks back at him, eyes narrowing a little, and Remus sighs, stepping back up to him as his
gaze shifts around, checking to see if any of the people that had recognized Sirius had trailed after
them. "He called me, Sirius. They were worried. They couldn't find you, had no idea what had
happened or where you were. They didn't know if you were safe, hurt…" His brown eyes shift back
down to Sirius' neck sadly. "He wanted to know if I'd seen you. He was out of options. I told him I
thought I might now where you were since he'd exhausted all else. I texted him when I found you."

Sirius' eyes drift over the man in front of him slowly before shifting back in the direction of his
bike. It's less about leaving it and more about him not being certain that he wants to leave with
Remus. Something in his mind is screaming at him not to trust the other man, but it's a smaller
voice than is typically shouting with most people, more softly spoken, being drowned out. His
heart is hammering in his chest, louder than the voice, more insistent, telling him Remus has never
hurt him, not really, not past one mistake of kept information. But it had been such a large,
sprawling mistake, and Sirius struggles, his mind fracturing.

"Sirius," says Remus slowly, his voice soft, forgiving, "you can take your bike if you want to do
so. I won't stop you. But people can see you. They know what you drive, especially the media.
They can follow you wherever you go. Please, come with me. I only want you to be safe. I just
want to keep you safe. That is all I have ever wanted."

Sirius looks back up at Remus, his hands beginning to shake again. The other man stares at him
almost pleadingly, his eyes scared, more frightened than Sirius has ever seen them before. His gaze
drops, his will beginning to crumble. He casts one last look in the direction of his bike, but it's only
a half-glance, and then he nods minutely.

Remus breathes an obvious sigh of relief and takes a step back, then another. He waits until he
knows Sirius is going to follow before he finally turns his back to him and continues his way to his
car. Sirius settles down inside and winds his fingers in the fabric of the shirt now covering him,
trying to control the trembling.
The drive through the city is quiet, the air within the vehicle heavy, thick, stilted. Sirius has never
been in this car before when it's been so silent and suffocating as it is now. His lungs try to
constrict on him, but he forces himself to breathe, Remus casting him furtive glances from the
corner of his eye every minute or so.

They go to Remus' office building, the space closer than his flat or the Potters' home, and the only
place Sirius can't seem to find an argument against when the options are offered. Remus lets him
into his private office and then disappears, telling Sirius he'll be back in a minute, leaving Sirius
alone in the bright, warm, always so welcoming room. Now it feels as though it's crushing him
slowly, his eyes drifting over the sofa, the floor where he used to sprawl so often, the large desk,
memories and conversations and laughter washing through him over and over again like painful
punches that makes his heart ache.

He finally seats himself on the sofa, staring down at the cushions beside him, at the arm to his left,
before he squeezes his eyes closed, not wanting to see it, but the memories come to him no matter
what he does, how hard he tries to stop them. Sirius stares around the room, nothing else to occupy
him, his mind roving, wandering, searching and branching. Everywhere he looks there's something
that pulls at him fiercely.

The framed picks on the wall behind Remus' desk that he'd shown Sirius that first day. The front of
the desk where they'd sat and eaten cake with their fingers on his birthday. The armchair now
lacking Sirius' jacket where it typically draped while here, and sometimes other bits of clothing,
too. The wall he'd pushed Remus against to finally get the answer he so desperately needed. The
floor where he'd lain, Remus' fingers and hands working over his back so expertly, only ever
wanting to help. The floor where they'd laid together and spoken about music, family, friends,
horrible things that had never been uttered into the accepting air when they probably should have
been.

Everything in him hurts, claws shredding him to pieces. Sirius wants to hate it here so badly, the
need for it so desperate it's crippling, but he can't make himself. This office, Remus' flat, his car,
everything associated with the other man is still bathed in so much warmth and love that it's
consuming and painful. It's golden light bursting over the sky and shining down after a horrible
storm that's ravaged everything in its path, but the dark clouds are still there, still visible at the
edges, threatening to encroach again, surrounding the good and trying to force it back out.

Sirius bows his head low, arms wrapping around his middle, trying to hold himself together just a
little bit longer. Just a few more seconds, and then a few more. He can do that, has been doing that,
but it's never felt quite as hopeless as it does now and he's not sure how much longer he can keep
pretending.

"Sirius."

He looks up at his name, so softly spoken, barely breaking through the howling savaging his mind.
Remus stands just inside the door, watching him, two large ice packs in one hand, bandages and
tape in the other. He holds them up to Sirius, an explanation of where he'd gone, before he moves
around the sofa and sits down on Sirius' right.

"For your neck," he says, indicating one of the packs and offering it to Sirius. "It's starting to swell,
and it should hopefully help with the bruising."

Sirius only nods, accepting the pack. He hisses when he pushes it against his throat, slowly
wrapping it around, the cold intense and making the marks sting. He sees Remus wince in
sympathy from the corner of his eye, but Sirius doesn't look directly at him.
Remus motions with the other pack. "This one's for your hand," he says, gaze dropping to where
it's now resting on Sirius' thigh. Remus extends his own, reaching for it cautiously, but Sirius
doesn't move away, doesn't stop him. Remus' warm fingers wrap gently around the sides of Sirius'
hand, lifting it a little, supporting it, and then he presses the ice pack to it with just as much care.
Sirius tenses as the pain radiates up his arm, setting his nerves on fire, but he doesn't say anything
or try to pull it away.

They sit in silence for a long time, not speaking, both staring at the pack covering Sirius' mangled
hand. Remus finally removes it, motioning towards the one Sirius has pressed to his neck as well.

"That's enough," he murmurs.

Sirius pulls the pack away and his skin tingles, mostly numb now, sensation trying to return
slowly. Pinpricks spread over his flesh, twinging his nerves and making him twitch a little. If
Remus notices, he doesn't comment, messing about with the packages of bandages, removing them
from their protective seals. Sirius watches as he carefully cleans his bloodied and torn knuckles,
placing the bandages over them with gentle movements, taping them in place.

When Remus tests his two swollen fingers, Sirius grunts, his arm jolting from the pain, and Remus
stops. He glances up at Sirius, eyes shifting over his face before dropping again. Tenderly, he
presses Sirius' fingers close together and then wraps them with tape, holding them in place, keeping
them from bending.

"I think I broke it," mumbles Sirius as he watches Remus' hands moving delicately. Remus only
nods. And then, in a voice so quiet and small Sirius is surprised the other man can even hear him,
he says, "I don't know what to do anymore."

Remus' movements stutter but he keeps going, saying nothing. Only when he's finished does he
stop, but he doesn't release Sirius' hand as he looks up at him fully. "I know," he says softly. His
thumb twitches over Sirius' exposed skin beside the tape. "You need help, Sirius. More help than
Lily or James or any of your friends can give you."

Sirius feels something inside himself rip at the words. "I know," he whispers, a broken thing,
accepting and bitter and filled with despair. "I know." Remus' thumb twitches again, and Sirius
looks down at it, watches the small muscles in the other man's hand shift and tense. And then
Sirius jerks away, standing suddenly, glowering down at Remus as he hovers over him. "But I don't
need it from you."

He turns away, walks toward the door, reaches to open it. Sirius doesn't want to be here anymore,
or that's what he tells himself. In truth, he thinks he's finally found the place he's been searching for
all day, the one place where everything doesn't feel so heavy and suffocating. But he can't be here
because it hurts too much, and it makes everything else stand out so much more starkly in his
raging head.

"I'm sorry." Sirius stops at the whispered words, his grip clench around the door handle under his
hand. The pain he can hear within them forces his eyes closed again, his own welling back up. "I'm
sorry, Sirius. I'm sorry you can't trust me anymore. I'm sorry I hurt you the way I did. I'm sorry I
haven't been there for you and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today. I – I love you, and I'm just so
sorry for all of it."

Sirius' head bows, his face twisting and scrunching up against it. He doesn't want to do this, can't
do it, but his hand drops from the handle without his permission. He turns to look at Remus, still
seated on the sofa, shoulders hunching inwards, agony and sorrow and loss written into ever line of
his face.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" pleads Sirius, hating how desperate his voice sounds, hating himself
for not being able to let it go.

Remus stares at him for a while, eyes shadowed and darker than usual, expression sad and filled
with some sort of acceptance Sirius doesn't want to see there. "I don't think I can give you an
explanation you haven't already heard or that's going to make any sort of difference," he finally
says, sounding almost defeated. He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, like he's pulling some sort of
strength to him.

"I was terrified, Sirius. Scared of losing you again. You were so important to me, have been one of
the most important things in my entire life. I didn't know how you would react when you found out.
I left you so quickly, not a word or explanation. I didn't have a choice, but you didn't know that.
How could you? It wasn't fair to either of us what happened, but by the time you were pushed back
into my life again, I'd convinced myself it hadn't mattered to you, or that I'd scarred you too badly
for you to ever look at me the same again. I had no idea how you felt, if you truly liked me,
spending time with me, or if you were just being kind.

"We were kids, Sirius," says Remus desperately. "We weren't meant to know anything, but even
then, I knew that you were important to me. I knew I loved you. First crush, some would argue,
and I argued that with myself for years. I told myself it would fade, because things like that always
do. I'd find others, figure out what real love was supposed to be. But I didn't. It never went away.
And all I could ever think about was how I'd kissed you, how surprised you'd been, how much
confusion I must have created for you, and then, a fortnight later, before I ever got to see you again
to try to figure more of it out, I was forced away. I left you with it, but you never left me.

"I needed you. In everything I did after meeting you, there was always this need there. You were
the first true friend I ever had. You listened to me when no one else did, not even my mother. You
pulled me out of myself with sweets and laughter, made me feel less like a monster no one wanted
to see or acknowledge. You were just as broken and damaged as I was, but you were always so
bright that you brightened me, too. So when I found you again, I did everything I possibly could
not to lose you all over again, because I knew what it would do. And I was right."

Sirius swallows, his throat thick and filled with something burning. "What did it do?" he asks in a
whisper, already knowing it's the worst possible question to ask. He meets Remus' eyes and waits.

Remus' face seems to cave in, collapse in on itself as Sirius stands there watching him. "The
destruction played forward," he says, his voice sounding choked. "The cars collided, caught on
fire, burned away to nothing." Remus inhales a shuddering breath. "You ruined me."

Sirius' head bows again as his eyes close. "That's not fair," he hisses between his teeth. "None of
this is fair!" he shouts, his head jerking back up as he kicks back against the door. "If you would
have just told me, none of this would have happened! And I wouldn't – I wouldn't – " His anger
fades, sinks away, pulls him down with it. Sirius is drowning in it all again, so much, too much. It's
always too much. "I love you, too, and it's not bloody fair."

"I know it's not," says Remus, pushing himself to his feet and stepping toward Sirius, closing a
small amount of the gap between them, "and I can't make it fair. But maybe…maybe I can make it
easier."

Sirius frowns at him, disbelief and a wretched sense of hopelessness flooding him full. Remus
takes another step forward.

"If I were to ask you now what I could do to make it easier," he murmurs, stepping forward once
more before stopping and standing still, "what would you want?"
 Sirius stares at him, mind spinning, lungs stopping, oxygen no longer passing through his parted
lips. He gazes across the small space at Remus, fighting with himself, struggling against what he
wants and what he knows he shouldn't take. He isn't sure how much time passes before he opens
his mouth and answers.

Chapter End Notes

I said I was sorry! I know, I know. Another cliffhanger. I can hear it already. Good
news, I'm not going to make you wait a week for the epilogue. Hopefully it'll be up
Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.

Some very lovely people on the Wolfstar discord had a thread created specifically for
this story. So, if you'd like to scream at me about it, or scream about it with other
people, come join us. And even if you don't, the server is filled with wonderful people
and things. Go check it out.
 Crates, Perishing Friends, & Epilogues
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"That's it. I'm dead. You've killed me. Can we please stop and have some lunch? I'm starving.
That's also attributing to my death, in case you were wondering. We've plastered, painted, hung
things, carried things – heavy things – scrubbed the floors, assembled shelves – that was a
nightmare and a half, and I'll never do it again – and now you're making me carry more things. I
hate you. I need food."

"Oh, please," drawls Lily, looking at her husband briefly before her eyes slide to Sirius, glinting
wickedly, "don't give in. Let him whinge a bit longer. We all do love hearing it."

James sputters indignantly, though it's weak and feeble, Sirius laughing at him openly. "You act as
though you've done all those things today, mate," he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and
resting his hip against the now dry wall – painted nearly a fortnight ago, thank you – as he stares at
his moping friend. "Besides, you're the one that offered to help. Don't act as though I've coerced
you into it."

"Right," says James, sounding a little snappish and very much put out as he pouts. "Like those
sappy dog eyes you flash about can't be considered coercion."

Sirius shrugs one shoulder, glancing down at his hands. There's still a bit of paint trapped under his
short nails that he can't manage to work free. "Don't know what you're talking about, Prongs," he
mutters idly. James glares at him, Sirius arching his eyebrows and poking his tongue out in
response.

"Someone ought to bite that thing from your head," mumbles James obstinately.

Sirius beams. "Oh, they've tried, believe me. Funnily enough, it seems pretty firmly attached."
James huffs, but Sirius mostly ignores him as he steps away from the wall and motions around.
"C'mon, James, it's almost finished. Just look at it. S'not my fault you don't know what hard work
is."

"And you do?" cries James in exasperation, but he wilts. "I just want food," he whinges again, face
falling. "We've been at this for hours, weeks, months. I'm happy it's nearly there, I really am, but
who the fuck knew record shops took so much bloody work to get running?"

Sirius gazes at his surroundings, not immediately responding, taking in what they've painstakingly
created. It had been a dream, once, something he'd managed to mostly forget about until he'd been
reminded that not only had he once had it, but that it was all right to remember and want it again.

Coming to the decision hadn't been a quick thing. It's been more than a year since everything in his
life had felt like it was finally imploding; since he'd felt like he was imploding, caving in, useless to
any and everything left. The path leading from that day that feels so long ago now and yet so very
close at random, swelling moments hadn't been smooth and well-traversed. Sirius had struggled;
still struggles, sometimes daily.

He'd left the team after the day he'd run out on that fateful match, never going back, something that
had been surprisingly simple. The Association had released him almost easily from his contracts,
along with Fabian and Gideon. Sirius had expected a fight, waited for weeks for some form of
reprisal to fall over his head, either for that or his defensive attack against the red head, but none
had ever come. He'd been set free of the shackles that had bound him for so long, and above that,
he'd been left alone, mostly. He thinks McGonagall and possibly even Fabian had something to do
with that negotiation, but he'll probably never now for sure.

The only thing the Association had asked for in exchange was the continued silence about what had
happened. No more media stories. They were scared, Sirius knew. The backlash from the articles
had been tremendous and almost violent, people calling for retribution, inquiries made,
investigations opened. Sirius knows they're still fighting the battle, and sometimes, he finds
himself feeling guilty for agreeing to the conditions in the first place; for taking what he'd needed
so badly and turning his back on anyone else it might happen to in the future. But he's slowly been
learning there are other ways to speak out and still keep that safely guarded freedom he holds so
close and dear.

Sirius still sees Frank and Benjy when they're home, Frank and Alice always coming round the
Potters' with Neville. Benjy had taken up well with Lily's friend Mary, the woman going so far as
to take some holiday time to follow the team around, watching their matches, watching Benjy. The
thought makes Sirius smile. He's not seen the twins since his release from the Association, though
Fabian checks in on him once or twice a month. Sirius isn't certain how Gideon is faring in his new
life, hasn't asked and doesn't much care, but Fabian seems happy enough when they speak, which
is fine enough for Sirius.

Sirius hums a little as his eyes settle back on his friend, a small smile pulling into place. "Can't say
I mind the work all that much," he comments reverently. "I think it's worth it."

Something flickers over his friend's face as James stares back at him, his hazel gaze softening
around the edges, mouth relaxing. He looks relieved, brimming with pride and love. Sirius doesn't
shy away from it, something he's slowly becoming more adept at with the more time that passes.
James opens his mouth to speak, but the door to the back storage space swings open before he can
form words.

"Did someone mention food?" questions Regulus, heaving a large box through the door and
dropping it to the floor unceremoniously. Sirius winces. "I could eat. I'm knackered. A break
sounds good."

Sirius steps away from the wall, walking across the shop's hardwood, creaking floor until he's level
with his brother, angling a pointed look his way. "Those were records in that box, you tosser," he
grumbles. Regulus rolls his eyes, beginning to protest with a haughty response, but Sirius only
slings an arm over his brother's shoulders, pulling him in, squeezing him a little. "If any of them are
broken, you're buying them. I'm trying to run a business here, not the isle of broken things no one
wants."

Regulus mutters something disparaging under his breath, shoving Sirius away, his movements only
mildly rough. Sirius lets him go, but he doesn't miss the small smile twitching at the corner of his
mouth as the other man turns away to collect the box again.

"When do you have to leave, Sirius?" says Lily, pulling his attention. "Do you have time for lunch?
We can keep working while you're gone, don't worry."

Sirius glances up at the clock on the wall, a clunking metal scrap of a thing James had stumbled
across a month before. Lily had worked her magic on it, cleaning it up, repurposing it, changing
out the numbers for small printed images of classic vinyl covers, swapping the previous hands for
drumsticks.
"I've got a couple hours," he responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "Lunch in fine."

It had taken several weeks of them all actively searching before they'd found someone Sirius would
agree to talk to on a regular basis. His therapist is a kind, softly spoken, middle-aged man named
Firenze. He's a little world-weary around the corners of his eyes, but there's laughter lines on his
face that ease Sirius whenever he notices them. Sirius had started seeing him twice a week nearly a
year ago, reluctant at first to speak, to share anything about himself, to put voice to his crippling
fears. But Firenze had been accepting of that, had seemed to expect it.

Instead of forcing Sirius to talk about why he'd really come to see him, Firenze had asked him
about places he'd travelled to, sights he'd seen. They'd discussed his found family, Lily and Harry
and James. They'd spoken of Sirius running about with Harry in the back garden, about the day
he'd been born. They'd talked about Sirius' other friends, his school days and all the mischief he'd
got himself into, James' parents and holidays spent with them growing up, and music. So much
music. Firenze had asked him about the time he'd invested into physio after his injury, how it had
felt to regain that mobility, to run again.

They'd talked about Sirius reuniting with Regulus and what had led to that split in the first place.
Firenze had inquired about his family struggles when he was a child, asked about his uncle and any
family Sirius could possibly still remain on good terms with or, at some point, reconnect with. He'd
pulled out of Sirius rather easily his feelings about joining the Association once he'd left school,
how mystifying that must have been at such a young age. And before Sirius had even realized what
was happening, everything else he'd held bottled up for so long had been spilling forth, Firenze
having spent weeks building up trust and a connection that Sirius hadn't even noticed as it
happened.

Sirius had spent those first few weeks after that moment leaving each session feeling drained and
exhausted, returning home and crawling into bed, using the blankets as a shield against the world.
But eventually, he'd begun to understand that while it hurt, ached so very much deep inside, with
each passing day, he felt a little lighter, a little more like his normal self, allowing all the negativity
to be released back into the world and out of his heart and mind and soul.

After months, Sirius found himself slowly opening up to more people, letting his friends, his
family, in on some of the thoughts swirling in his head when they arose, threatening to hinder him
again, push him back down into the mud and the sludge that had been his life for so long. Things
sometimes emerged a bit strangled, choked in his throat, his body and mind resisting, but he mostly
managed to get them out when it mattered most, when he truly needed someone to hear them.
Firenze had finally made Sirius see that leaning on the people he cared about the most, the ones
that loved him in return, wasn't a bad thing, wasn't something he should ever feel guilty about,
because that was what they were there for, what they in turn needed from him, simply to
understand and help however they could.

Sirius isn't healed, and probably never will be, not completely, something the kind-faced man had
gently nudged into his mind and seeded into place like a gardener cultivating precious plants with
blooms that blossom outwards and stretch into the light of the sun, feeding on it, nesting in it. He
still wakes from nightmares, still feels hands creep over him, still experiences the sharp licks of
pain from his childhood that linger in the waking hours once he's flailing in his bed, sheets tangled
and restrictive. He still sees twisting smiles, sneering faces, horrible eyes matching his own filled
with distaste, muddy green eyes full of a predatory gleam.

He has moments, random things at odd times, stretches of days passing smoothly and serenely
before they hit and Sirius is trapped, breathless, suffocating. Sometimes he's at home, other times
at a shop searching for a niche soup or walking down a crowded pavement. Something catches his
attention, a wayward thought draws him in, a sound stops his heart and then he's in it again, frozen
in place, fighting with himself silently. It'll never go away, will always be there with him, but he's
slowly come to accept it, Firenze providing him with tools to use when it happens, when the fear
and stone grips him tightly and refuses to release.

But it's better now than it had been in the past. The dreams and chance moments are less frequent,
strike him down not nearly as much as they had a year ago. He finds his footing faster now, regains
his balance within himself. Touch comes easier, less flinching away from the people he trusts and
holds nearest to his heart.

"Yes, food!" cries James dramatically, slumping over a bare table as the door jingles behind Sirius.
"I'll go fetch it. Tell me what you want and release me from this hell!"

"Oh, no you don't," calls out a sharp voice, sounding a little breathless. "We've just got back with
all these absolutely lovely plastic crates Black insisted on. You're going to help us unload them,
Potter."

James slumps further and whimpers as Marlene comes into view, arms laden with several of the
aforementioned crates. Sirius darts forward to help, taking them from her arms and setting them to
the side before doing the same with Dorcas.

"There's a heap of them out there," says Dorcas with a smirk, her dark eyes shifting past Sirius and
settling on what appears to be a melting James. "Hope you've got the space for them."

"Space? Have you seen this place?" exclaims James, straightening up again, looking outraged.
"That's all it is, bloody space and room. The sofas barely take up anything. I ask you, Sirius, what
are you going to do with all this?"

Dorcas shifts a little, leaning forward, her chin resting over Marlene's shoulder. Her brown skin
stretches with a wider smirk, eyes glinting devilishly, dark hair, pulled back to the nape of her neck
in five thick braids loose at the ends, beautiful and free.

"I'm thinking he's going to use it for some sort of music," declares Dorcas, her tone level, gaze
fixed on James, narrowed and teasing. "Possibly records."

James' mouth works for a few silent moments, no sounds emerging until the others around him
laugh and he begins muttering under his breath. Marlene saunters over and flicks a blue painted
finger under his chin, matching her blue streaked hair.

"Perk up, Potter," she says amicably. "A half hour of unloading for five more hours of work.
What's so awful about that?"

"I just want to know why you're denying me sustenance," remarks James miserably, pouting again,
looking like a sullen version of Harry, causing Sirius to laugh again. "I've done my time. I was
promised payment, compensation. Why can't I have that? I'm wasting away to nothing."

Marlene reaches down and plucks at his side, pulling a faint, startled squeak from James as he
lurches away, out of her grasp. "Oh, yeah. Really skin and bones there, mate," cackles out Marlene
fiendishly. "Calm down. Help us get these crates free and we'll get you your ruddy food."

There's a sudden pressure against Sirius' back as he listens to his friends bicker, an arm slipping
around his waist, hand settling over his side and holding gently. Sirius leans into it, the touch a
grounding thing even when he doesn't specifically need it, intense warmth seeping through the
fabric of his shirt, a small rush bursting over him, his heartrate increasing, breathing spiking for a
moment.

"It's fine, we can get everyone food. Consider it our thanks for your help," says a voice very close
to Sirius' ear, the soft, smooth, gorgeous cadence filling him full, causing him to float.

"You'd better be providing a king's feast worth of food to have it merit thanks for all the weeks
we've spent here," mutters James. Lily pinches his arm in warning, James scowling as he rubs at it
and goes back to grumbling under his breath.

Remus laughs, pulling a stack of menus from his pocket with his free hand. He tosses them down
on one of the vacant tables. "Pick what you want. We'll go get it once you're ready," he tells them.
With that, he turns his attention away from the others, face leaning in close to Sirius', nose pressing
into the fine hairs lining his forehead, nuzzling in a little, his eyes flickering up to the clock on the
wall. "Have you got time?" he questions, looking down at Sirius.

"Yeah, should have," answers Sirius, eyes closing briefly at the press of skin. "Firenze isn't until
three." Remus hums as Sirius pulls away enough to motion with his head towards the truck parked
outside the shop, loaded with crates. "Any problems with the rental?"

"No, not with the rental," says Remus, rolling his eyes, a hint of exasperation in his voice. Sirius
arches one questioning eyebrow at him and Remus huffs before laughing faintly. "Marlene is a
horrible driver. I don't know why I ever agree to enter a moving vehicle with her. I should have
learned my lesson by now. I'd have been safer in the back with the crates, I think."

Sirius chortles as Marlene cries out in protest, obviously having overheard their quiet conversation
between the squabbling of food choices. Remus never even glances her way, only offering her a
two-finger salute in response, forcing a bark of laughter from Sirius' throat. Remus lights up at the
sound, beaming down at him.

"Christ, I will always love that," he attests, lips ghosting over Sirius' temple. He sighs as he shifts
back again. "Peter and Emmeline should be here soon. I'll text him to see if they want anything
once this lot decides what they want."

While the others debate and argue over the menus, Remus and Sirius load in the crates. By the time
they're finished, their small gathering has reached a consensus. Remus takes up their orders and
then they depart, Sirius pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, warding off the
creeping chill as they walk down the pavement. It begins to mist as they round the corner of a
nearby building, and Sirius huffs, shaking his head at the London weather, sky grey and overcast,
heavy with waiting rainfall.

"Care to help me sort through the rest of those boxes of records once we get home tonight?" he
asks of the other man, their footfalls echoing off the concrete beneath, the street strangely void of
most other people.

Remus snorts out a small laugh. "To keep myself from tripping over or stubbing my toes every
morning with missteps as I try to traverse our flat?" he remarks, eyes dancing wonderfully as they
settle on Sirius' face. "Yes. For you, I'd do anything."

Sirius smiles at him and they settle back into an easy silence as they continue their trek. As they
pass by an empty alleyway between two close-knit buildings, Remus unexpectedly catches Sirius'
elbow in his gentle grip, giving him a tug and pulling him within. Sirius yelps in surprise, but he
quiets as Remus presses him back against the brickwork of one building. His hands rest on his
shoulders, drifting up slowly, settling on his neck, fingers splaying, touch ghosting, sending chills
racing down Sirius' spine.
 The look on the other man's face is like a ripcord being pulled, a parachute exploding outwards,
sucking Sirius into the past. He can see in the lines of Remus' face, in his liquid honey eyes, in the
tilt of his mouth the boy he once was, smaller than Sirius at the time, nervous, uncertain as he'd
held him in place with tender hands, confusion warring with the determination etched into every
line of his body. Sirius' breath catches in the base of his throat, some sort of excitement rising, just
as it had all those years ago, though Sirius hadn't realized at the time that's what it was.

Remus regards him with the same expression now, shoulders squared, body leaning inwards, like
he can't resist some sort of pull buried underneath both their surfaces. As Sirius watches, his head
ducks down, lips grazing faintly before pressing firmer, a deep thing, a closed-mouth kiss that
makes something inside Sirius sing and rejoice. When they separate, Remus gazes down at him,
licking over his lips, Sirius watching his tongue peek out and slip away again.

"Better than the first?" asks Remus, his head tilting a little to the side, something teasing in his
voice but also mildly curious.

Sirius considers him for a moment, licking over his own lips, tasting something nostalgic, like
memories glazed with chocolate. "No," he murmurs, and Remus frowns a little. Sirius' mouth
quirks up in the corners. "No, Moony. The first will always be the best."

Remus only smiles in return.

When you're a lost cause

When you are so far gone
When you are aching
Tired and waiting
When you are sinking
Going down like a stone
When nothing comes easy

I'll be the lamplight

I'll be the first in line
Kick out the waste of losers and fakers
I'll be the one to
See through the darkest hours
The nights in the darkness
All the nights in the darkness

When you are shaded

When you are fading out
I'll be the lamplight
The nights in the darkness

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much to everyone for reading this, for all your kind comments and
words, for the love you've shown this once silly little, sleep-deprived idea of mine that
grew into so much more. I am overwhelmed with it all.

I've turned this into a series. Sometime soon(ish), there will be two more smaller
works to accompany it, so keep an eye out for those if you're interested.
 Please, come pester me on Tumblr or the Wolfstar discord. I love talking to people.
Also, the server is fantastic and offers so many different things, as well as
exceptionally kind and supportive people.

Main playlist and Sirius' playlist. I hope you enjoy them.

Also, for anyone who would like more of the story than is published here, there are a
vast number of requested outtakes on Tumblr. These can be found here if you're
interested.

End Notes

Song lyrics are from I'll Be the First by Longwave.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!