i.
"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest....

When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
There's so much they hold

"To one more night of not being an adult," Sirius said, raising his glass.

James, Lily, Remus, and Peter all raised their glasses, but the jubilant air dissipated as they glanced at each other with the tiniest ghost of anxiety wavering about their eyes; though Sirius hadn't meant to, he'd mentioned the one thing probably none of them were prepared to examine at the moment.

There had been no question, of course: now that they were adults and the protective shield of Hogwarts was no longer something they could count on, the Order was the only option that made any sense. Remus had not hesitated when Dumbledore had taken him aside and very gravely asked him if he'd be willing to put his life on the line; he was fairly certain that none of the others had baulked either.

But actually fighting in a war had been a very abstract concept back then. Now, on the eve of reporting to Headquarters, the prospect was daunting, with a tiny curl of dread that wafted about them like smoke and never fully went away.

"Shouldn't we feel different?" James asked after too long a pause. "We just got off the Hogwarts Express for the last time. We'll never be on that platform again."

"But we will," Lily pointed out. "We'll see our kids off to Hogwarts there, remember?"

Sirius and Remus shared an amused look as James went slightly wild around the eyes at the mention of children. Remus had the distinct impression that James had not thought the consequences of proposing to Lily all the way through. He supposed that adulthood meant something entirely different to James, though it was likely no less terrifying.

"So now what?" Peter asked, looking around at each of them. "I don't think any of us thought this far ahead. Sirius and Remus have got flats, but I still have to live with my mum for a while. It's not like I can pay rent anywhere - I mean I don't have any money or anything."

"Well, Lily and I will get our own place once we're married," James said with overly casual pride, emphasising the word 'married' in a way that was undoubtedly entirely subconscious.

"We'd better," sniffed Lily. "I don't know how long I'll be able to stand my sister and her horrid lump of a husband, lording their house and his job over me."

"We'll get a place," James assured her, hugging her tightly against his side on the sofa. "Until then - I don't know. I wish I hadn't let that solicitor talk me into liquidating my parents' assets. I'd at least have a house to live in." As though suddenly realising he was skirting dangerously close to the subject of war that they were all desperately avoiding, he cleared his throat and peered at Sirius. "D'you have room for me to stay here? I know the wedding's not for a few months, but at least then we can take our time trying to find a house." His face split into a grin. "Besides, we always talked about how we'd be flatmates after school, until Lily came along and ruined everything."

"Actually..." As a general rule, Sirius did not blush. He was not bashful, did not get nervous, and did not hesitate to bluntly say whatever he felt needed saying at any given moment. Perhaps that was why his almost timid glance at Remus, accompanied by him biting his lip and the slow flush of colour rising up his neck, made Remus's heart suddenly skip irregularly. "I - I mean, I wanted to talk to him first, but - I was hoping Remus would move in with me."

The room could not have been quieter if a Silencing Charm had been cast over it. Peter and Lily's mouths opened slightly in surprise; James simply looked puzzled. "But Remus already has a place of his own, he doesn't need a flatmate -"

Obviously ignoring James's babbling, Sirius turned to Remus. "I know I should have asked you in private, but -"

"No, it's all right," Remus said, swallowing hard. "I - I don't know what to say."

"Oh," James said in surprise. "Oh, you mean - oh."

"James, shut up," Lily hissed.

"Are you sure you want to -" It was very difficult to talk around the sudden lump of emotion in his throat; Remus swallowed again. "I mean, I am a werewolf."

"I'd noticed," Sirius said drily.

"You know what I mean. Do you really want to spend your -" No, Remus could not wrap his head around that concept just yet. "Do you really want to live with one?" he asked instead.

"I want to live with this one," Sirius said soberly, reaching out to place a hand on Remus's knee.

It would be unfair to say that Remus wasn't surprised. It had been just a few scant months since he and Sirius had discovered that their closeness ran deeper than mere friendship; Remus could still perfectly recall the moment in the recessed doorway of a closed apothecary in Hogsmeade, trying to wait out an ill-timed sleety squall, when he'd thrown caution to the wind and looked Sirius directly in the eye - only to find that Sirius was already halfway to doing what Remus had been considering for several moments. Sirius had tasted of that odd tincture of spices that went into the Three Brooksticks' mulled wine; it had been awkward and electrifying, Remus hadn't known what to do with his hands, and then they'd stepped apart and avoided each other for nearly a week afterwards.

Their reunion - facilitated by the machinations of Lily, who had naturally seen this coming long before they realised it - had been largely nonverbal. In fact, the last few months had been largely nonverbal; Sirius was not much one for talking, and Remus wasn't entirely certain what he wanted, aside from the fact that if it involved Sirius, he wanted it very much.

"So, wait," James was whispering to Lily, not quietly enough. "Did Sirius just propose?"

"Pretty close," Lily whispered back.

"I didn't know - I mean, I knew they - but -"

James probably had no idea that Remus was echoing those same sentiments in his head right at that moment. Wrenching his stare from the hand on his knee, Remus looked up into Sirius's eyes - and felt a nearly physical jolt deep within his ribs. There was a desperate hope there, twined about a thread of absolute terror, but there was something else under it all, a force so deep and solid that they'd both been scared to give it a name.

Remus reached out to cover the hand on his knee with his own. "I - yes. I will."

If it involved Sirius, then yes - he wanted it very much.

ii.
The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock....

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

"You know I can't tell you," Sirius said gruffly as he poured cereal into a bowl. He overshot in his irritation and half of it scattered across the table.

"You can, you just won't," Remus replied hotly. "It's not as though I can tell anyone if you tell me - that's not how the charm works - they're my friends too! Do you think that even if I could tell, I wouldn't die to keep it secret? What if something happens to you? How does anyone find them?"

"I can't tell anyone. Not even you. If I could wipe my memory so I didn't know what I knew, I'd do it." The bits of cereal wafted back into the box at a negligent flick of Sirius's wand. "You know as well as I do that information's been leaked somehow."

Remus scoffed. "What, and you think I'm the one doing it?"

"Of course not."

There had been a slight hesitation, a split second break in the flow of the conversation. It could have been because Sirius was pouring milk over his cereal, but Remus was in no mood to be reasonable. "You do. You think I'm passing on information."

"Remus, please." Lowering his face into his palm, Sirius grimaced. "I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it."

"I'm the most likely, though, aren’t I?" Remus spat. "Because all of Greyback's other werewolves are on his side." He couldn't stand still anymore; he began pacing, upsetting the bowl of Halloween candy by the door for the Muggle children who had been coming by at irregular intervals all evening. "Never mind that we probably have an actual Death Eater as a double agent, of course everyone thinks it's me."

"I'd tell you anything, other than what you're asking," Sirius said in a low voice, dragging his spoon through his cereal. "You know I would. You know why I can't tell you." He dropped the spoon and looked up, frustration flickering across his face. "You know why. Stop asking me!"

"For the love of - it's not about that anymore!" He wasn't getting it; Remus wanted to grab Sirius by the shoulders and shake him, make him understand what it was that had caused the stinging twinge in Remus's chest. "There's a part of you that suspects. I see it every time I come home from a mission that you weren't on. I see you wondering what I've been up to. You've been distant with me for weeks!"

Cereal forgotten, Sirius rose from his chair. "Of course there's a part of me that suspects. We're at war, Remus! We're at war and someone is leaking information and I don't think it's you, but it's someone close to me - to us - and -" His hands closed into fists that he pressed against his brow. "I hate it, but I - we - can't afford to think any other way. There's no way to be a hundred per cent sure about anyone anymore."

The remark stabbed Remus directly between his ribs. "You really think that?" His mind laboured to find words to put to the roiling sourness in his stomach. "Sirius, you're a Black - your family is hip deep in Voldemort's schemes - and never once did I ever have an ounce of doubt. Not once. I still don't." Sirius opened his mouth but Remus shook his head. "Three years, we've been together. You know me better than I do. And you still..."

The clock on the wall chimed, saving Sirius from having to fill the silence for a few moments. When it finished announcing the time, Sirius let out a great sigh and closed his eyes.

"I have to go. I need to check on Peter - he hasn't been very well lately -"

"Don't you dare walk out on this," Remus began, heat tingeing his words, but Sirius took him firmly by the shoulders.

"I'm not. I promise. Let's just - let's just both cool off. I won't be long. And then we'll talk." He squeezed Remus's shoulders before drawing him into an embrace. "We've been through worse."

At the moment, Remus was hard-pressed to think of anything worse that they had been through, but he closed his eyes and gave himself to the embrace, running the palm of his hand along Sirius's spine before pulling away.

"Give Peter my best," he said glumly.

"I will," Sirius replied as he opened the door. He paused. "Love you. I'll be back soon."

iii.
It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch....

I had to learn what I've got
And what I'm not
And who I am

Becoming a werewolf was a very painful process. Bones had to shift, muscles and ligaments straining and tearing before they too began the transformation, and nothing Remus had ever come across could numb the sensation. All he could do was grit his teeth and just take one more breath, and then another, and then another after that, surviving and bearing it one second at a time.

But that was physical pain, and bearing physical pain was a simple process of mind over matter. This -

The clock face broke as the book collided with it; the glass made a satisfying sharp CRACK that echoed through the chimes of the clock in an almost startled tone. With that, he'd exhausted the breakable possibilities in the tiny sitting room of the flat, and he moved on into the kitchen, where the sight of the forgotten bowl of soggy cereal disarmed him so thoroughly that he did not even know when he'd grasped it or thrown it, only that the soured milk was running down the wall and the bowl had shattered, the ceramic shards bouncing across the carpet. Other dishes and glasses followed suit and Remus was soon in a rhythm of just picking something - anything - up and hurling it as hard as he could at the walls, at the cupboard doors, anywhere.

One teacup refused to break, merely bouncing ineffectually across the carpet, and Remus drew his wand and aimed haphazardly; it did not so much shatter as disintegrate into a fine white dust that mushroomed up and settled silently on the carpet. The rush of destructive magic felt much more substantial than simply throwing things, and soon explosions were blooming all across the flat. Sometimes he shouted the incantation, sometimes he didn't - shouting seemed to help, but it hurt his throat and gave his eyes permission to start leaking hot tears again.

Thoughts bumped at the edge of his skull and he blinked hard to subdue them, but before long it was an onslaught he couldn't control and even breaking every possession he had wasn't enough to block them out, and he sank to his knees in the chaotic mess of glass and disembowelled books and lowered his face into his hands.

He'd trusted Sirius. Wholly. Unconditionally. Loved him, even if they didn't say the words often. Every thought Remus had ever had about the future had contained Sirius. Remus would have taken a curse for him, lied for him, done anything for him, because he'd known that Sirius would have done the same. He'd known it. He'd known Sirius deep down to his marrow and then -

And then -

This -

He had trusted him.

And now Peter and James and Lily -

Physical pain was also easier to bear when there were people about, encouraging by their very presence. But there was no one, not a single person he could turn to, and it was because of Sirius, the man he'd trusted with his life.

Remus was not sure when the door to the flat had opened or how he had got to the sofa, or how Dumbledore had managed to find or repair a teacup; his mind apparently did not want to record events correctly. The dark amber liquid contained no answers, no matter how deeply he stared into it, and Remus found himself wracked with sobs that shook his hands, spilling the tea onto the floor.

"It hurts," he choked, dropping the teacup entirely to bring his hands to his face. He was dimly aware of Dumbledore grasping his shoulder tightly.

"I know. Trust me, I know."

iv.
...the look of mingled fear and surprise on Sirius's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell backward through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil...

And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

Remus had never seen Sirius's childhood home; he decided to give it the benefit of the doubt and assume that it had once been a much nicer place to live.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" he asked simply, turning.

It was still startling to see Sirius standing before him, even if he was so changed that he was barely recognisable as the man he’d once been. Where there should have been laugh lines there were creases that made him look haunted and exhausted; frayed robes hung limply from his gaunt frame as though on a wire mannequin. And then, of course, he was older. They both were, and Remus suspected that Sirius was having just as difficult a time reconciling his memories of Remus with the worn-down, shabby man who was standing awkwardly in the middle of his sitting room.

But the shock of recognition was still there, still stirring something beneath Remus's ribs that made it difficult to breathe, to think.

"I'm going to be offering the house to use as Headquarters for the Order," Sirius said softly after a long pause. "And I wanted - a night. A night alone before everything becomes a circus. To - to try and explain. Apologise."

A sharp pang lanced through Remus's middle. "I spent twelve years trying to hate you," he said gruffly, halfway turning away.

"I don't blame you." Sirius obviously knew better than to try to touch Remus, or come closer. "I spent twelve years doing the same."

"And then, just when I find out I was right to begin with, and that you hadn't…that it was Peter..." Remus took a deep, ragged breath. "You had to disappear again. I woke up in the forest and didn't know whether you were alive or dead or if I'd killed you or..."

"You didn't get my letter?" Sirius sounded stricken.

"I did. And Harry told me what happened." He felt weary, more tired than he'd felt in a very long time, and he sank down onto a dusty green sofa. "But I still felt like I'd lost you a second time."

"I tried to send more." The other end of the sofa sank as Sirius settled onto it. "But you're a hard person to find, and owls were hard to come by."

"I mostly spent this year in one hostel or another," Remus admitted. "Owls have a difficult time finding transients. But a letter is a poor substitute for the real thing. I know you couldn't come see me - you were in hiding, I know - but I..."

Silence settled around them, but it was not the comfortable silence between friends. It was an oppressive, cloistering silence, emphasised by all the minute sounds of the house settling around them that couldn't shatter it.

"A day hasn't gone by that I haven't missed you," Sirius said suddenly. "That I haven't felt completely rotten for how - how I left that night."

Remus didn't know what to say to that. In all his mental rehearsals of their first conversation after Remus's world had been turned on its head - the knowledge that Peter was alive but worse than dead to him, that Sirius hadn't been responsible for the horrid events of his twenty-first year - he'd never not known what to say. Sometimes he'd yelled. Sometimes he'd cried. Sometimes they'd just sat quietly with their arms around one another and words didn't matter. But nothing fit the very real situation they found themselves in now, and so the silence pressed at them again, making words more difficult with every passing second.

"I understand. If you don't want - I mean, you've probably found someone since." It was not a question. It was very insistently not a question. Remus nearly laughed at the casualness of the non-question.

"Not many women are keen on dating a werewolf."

"Women?" Sirius asked sharply.

Remus nodded, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. "I don't think you really understand... I spent a lot of time denying everything we were. Everything." He swallowed against the lump building in his throat. "And then, of course, I couldn't bear the thought of being with another man."

"Remus." Far from angry or betrayed, Sirius sounded suddenly so sorrowful that tears pricked at the corner of Remus's eyes. "I've done so much wrong by you. I never - of course I never wanted things to turn out this way, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever said -"

Against his inclination, Remus exhaled in something that could have been laughter. "Not even close. You've said far more ridiculous things."

"I suppose I have." Sirius's smile was weak, but it did a great deal to negate the premature lines in his face before it fell back into a sombre expression. "We can't start over. We're different people now, and too much has happened to us to just turn back the clock. But... I know this is too much to ask. And I shouldn't be asking it, not of anyone, especially not of you, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't at least -" He stopped as though he knew he was rambling, taking a deep breath. "Can we try again?"

Remus blinked, rapidly drawing his eyes back into focus and turning to look intently at Sirius. "Say again?"

"You're everything to me," Sirius said bluntly. "Remembering you, pretending I still had you, kept me sane in that cell in Azkaban. You've always been my centre, my support, my keystone. Even now, I - I honestly don't know what I'd do without you, even though I don't rightly have you." He laughed mirthlessly. "It's amazing how we've come full circle. There's a war on. Neither of us knows what's going to happen tomorrow. I'm suggesting something mad and reckless and I have no idea whether you'll accept, but just like back then - I need you. I've always needed you." He paused and licked his lips before finishing, very softly, "I never stopped loving you. That's really the entire reason I asked you here. I just - I wanted to say that before all hell broke loose and I never got the chance."

The entire speech was so unlike Sirius that it took several moments for it to sink in, but once it did, Remus's mind buzzed blankly. He felt oddly numb, as though he were very far away and directing his thoughts from some remote location where emotions couldn't touch him.

Very, very hesitantly, he reached out a hand. Sirius grasped it and held it tightly, resting on the sofa in the space between them.

"I don't know," Remus said finally. "I don't know if I can. I don't know if I have it in me. If it was anyone else asking, I'd just flat out say no. But..." He squeezed the hand that was in his own. "You make me want to try."

It was uncertain which of them initiated the kiss; it was entirely possible that, just like their very first one, it was a mutual leaning in, a simultaneous action of assent. But unlike their first kiss so many years ago, this had no awkwardness; Remus's fingers tangled in the hair at the back of Sirius's head, Sirius pressing his palm against the flat of Remus's back as if scared Remus would pull away. It was a kiss that was as fluid in its familiarity as warm honey, a salve that soothed old hurts they hadn't known they still had, and rather than with the passion of youth, they kissed with the fervour and desperation of two lovers who had feared they would never have a moment like this again.

They probably should have expected the escalation; robes and shirts and trousers were discarded with that same frenzied desperation, the sofa suddenly too small for what they both needed with such urgency that it burned hotter than any flame. Neither of them spoke a word, as though speech would scatter the tenuous threads that were holding them together - and words were unnecessary anyway. They were different, had grown up and grown older, but the touches were the same, and neither had been able to forget. Minutes slid by unheeded and then a gasp, a stifled cry, and they collapsed bonelessly, arms around one another to keep them from falling from the narrow sofa.

"Don't ever leave again," Remus said breathlessly, running a hand across Sirius's chest.

"Never," Sirius said. "You're stuck with me."

"I loved you too much to hate you. That's why it hurt so much, because I couldn't and I wanted to." Remus could count every single one of Sirius's ribs, and he nearly cringed; so much had happened, so much that he could do nothing about, and he resolved that if he did nothing else with his life from here on out, he would take care of Sirius.

"I never said it enough. I always assumed you knew. But I'm going to say it so much that you'll get sick of hearing it. I love you, and I'm going to do my damndest to make this work." Placing a tender hand on Remus's cheek, Sirius looked deeply into Remus's eyes. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time."

As Harry sprinted toward the dais, Remus caught him by the chest, holding him back.
"There's nothing you can do, Harry -"
"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"
"It's too late, Harry -"
"We can still reach him -"
Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Remus did not let go.
"There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing.... He's gone."

Because even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth