Archive of Our Own

Remus is no one. He has always been no one. Shunned from society long before he could even begin to understand it himself, and despite his parents’ best efforts at raising him to be a functioning member of both societies—Muggle and magical alike—he is too damn broken to ever think he could matter to anyone.

Or, that’s what he told himself before he joined the Order of the Phoenix, before he met Sirius Black.

If someone told him a year ago that he’d become a trusted member of a group of wizards determined to eradicate rising evil in the world, he’d tell them that sounded like something his mother used to say when he’d been especially saddened about his role in the wizarding society: much too idealistic given his condition as a werewolf. Yet, he sits here, in a meeting with his fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group of like-minded and extremely capable individuals, who welcomed him to their ranks despite his unusual upbringing. Of course, most of them don’t know he’s a werewolf; they simply know him as a competent wizard and treat him with respect reserved only for someone not keeping multiple secrets from them.

If someone told him he’d also be shagging one of the members of said group, a man more than a decade younger than him, while benefiting financially from the agreement, he’d hex them for telling him such outrageous lies. He’d hex himself for daring to believe it.

If he were less rational, he’d say meeting Sirius Black had changed his life for the better.

Sirius had inherited all of his family’s wealth and his life hadn’t changed for the better. It did not surprise him.

“‘Be careful, Black,’ he says,” Sirius grumbled, watching attentively until the door Alastor Moody had just gone through was fully closed before speaking at all. “What was that? A warning?”

“I mean… He’s not wrong,” said James, frowning at Sirius. “You should be careful about where you’re seen with the rest of us, you have a reputation to keep up, and I’d hate to see someone hurt you just because—”

“I know that, don’t even start, James. Does he think he’s somehow the authority on all things here just because he happens to be an Auror? He’s also old and decrepit, which in my experience only makes him—”

“It’s a good thing he has a magically enhanced eye, not an ear,” interrupted a voice from behind them. It was soft and warm, but it still managed to startle Sirius, who’d thought they were the last two people left in the safe house after the meeting.

They both turned fast enough that James’ shoulder knocked into Sirius painfully. Sirius instantly recognised the man as Remus Lupin, one of the older members of the Order of the Phoenix. A man, who, before this moment, had never said a word directly to Sirius, but had still managed to catch his attention by being very—

“Oh, hello, sir,” Sirius said, rubbing his arm and glaring at James as he tried to get his thoughts back in order. He’d been annoyed just seconds before, hadn’t he?

“No need to call me that.” Lupin’s voice was still pleasant, but Sirius hadn’t missed the way he’d grimaced. He was instantly reminded of how he’d just called Moody ‘old and decrepit’ and while Lupin was nowhere nearly as old, his general demeanour could definitely be described as decrepit, the premature grey streaks in his hair and faint crinkles around his eyes definitely adding to the whole image that made him look old. And handsome. So very handsome.

“We didn’t think there was anyone still here,” he offered in explanation, suddenly worried Lupin would tell Moody what he’d said. “I didn’t really mean—”

“It’s alright. I also find myself frustrated after a conversation with him sometimes.” Lupin smiled conspiratorially, which instantly vanished the perpetually tired look from his face that made him look so serious all the time. His warm brown eyes lit up and he looked at Sirius with gentleness that made his stomach twist in knots. Sirius wanted him to smile more often. At him, specifically.

“Oh. That’s good.” Sirius laughed, hoping he hadn’t sounded too pathetic in his relief. Or like a kid trying to talk his way out of trouble. “I mean, not that you feel that way, just that I’m not the only…”

“Minnie used to sneak up on us like that too,” James interjected, and Sirius wanted to hug him for coming to his rescue. “I’ll say, you should consider a career as a Hogwarts teacher with skills like that. Has she given you pointers?”

“Minnie? Oh, McGonagall?” Lupin’s smile turned sad. “I didn’t attend Hogwarts, so I have no idea what she’s like as a teacher.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.” Sirius immediately felt self-conscious even as Lupin chuckled lightly. “I mean… Never mind.” It was one thing to be only known as a sheltered heir of an ancient family, he didn’t have to keep proving it to everyone. “I was in Gryffindor,” he offered, like he always did these days when introducing himself, and then remembered it probably meant nothing to Lupin.

It clearly did, Lupin’s eyes widening in shock before he relaxed minutely again. “I was under the impression that your family— That is… I’m not entirely sure how it works. I’m sorry, I seem to have made assumptions about you.”

“That’s alright. It’s not every day you meet a Black who wasn’t in Slytherin,” Sirius replied breezily, trying his hardest to ignore the fact that his reputation had once again preceded him. Or rather, his name had. “In fact, I’m the only one.”

He waited for the inevitable disappointment from Lupin doing what Moody just had and tell him something he didn’t want to hear right now. But instead of reminding Sirius of his newfound duty of keeping up appearances or even scrambling for a hasty goodbye, Lupin said, “I’m sorry. I should know better than to judge people before knowing anything about them.”

Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever heard someone older apologising to him before. “Oh. No, you’re fine. It’s…”

“I’m afraid I’ll be quite late for another meeting of mine. It was nice talking to you, Sirius.” Did his voice soften just the tiniest bit as he said Sirius’ name? “James,” he added, almost as an afterthought, though he didn’t look like he needed to search his memory for the name. Sirius’ stomach did a funny swoop at the thought they’d both been memorable enough for Lupin to remember their first names.

“Oh, well it was nice for us, too.” James smiled brightly, and Sirius could already see the mischievous glint in his eye. Suddenly he didn’t want Lupin to leave, if only to spare himself from whatever teasing remark James had in mind.

“See you later, Mr. Lupin,” Sirius said as Lupin slid past them towards the door.

Lupin cringed at the title, but his smile didn’t falter, only took on a more exasperated manner when his eyes met with Sirius’ one final time. Sirius noted they looked almost golden in the late afternoon sun, like amber.

The side of Sirius’ face burned with James’ eyes boring into him, but he kept his gaze firmly on the now shut front door.

“We should go, too—”

“Sir.”

Sirius debated ignoring James, but it never went over well. “He is a senior member of the Order. I was being polite! You should try it sometimes.”

James shoved him, hard enough to nearly send him toppling. “Well, he’s senior, alright. Ancient, by the looks of it.”

“Shut it, James!”

James turned to him in shock from the sudden outburst. Sirius was even surprised himself; sure, he’d told James to knock off a joke gone too far once or twice, but neither had ever heard this kind of tone from his mouth.

Yes, Sirius found Lupin attractive. He was… soft, kind of rugged, a bit older… Everything Sirius’ family would have despised, though his looks or the fact his family would disapprove weren’t the only reasons Sirius thought he was intriguing. Remus Lupin gave his full attention to whoever was speaking, was not afraid of disagreeing with people when the situation called for it, but otherwise kept to himself and that just made him more alluring to Sirius. And now he had spoken to him and smiled at him and it made Sirius feel a bit funny inside. But he wasn’t really ready for James to know about all that.

“He seems… nice,” he finally forced out, hoping to satisfy James enough.

He failed. James grinned at him and Sirius already knew he didn’t want to hear what he was about to say.

“Mr. Lupin thought it was nice talking to you, too.”

“Piss off, James. I mean it.”

He didn’t, and from the grin glued on James’ face, he knew it, too. Sirius might be fucked.

Sirius Black is possibly the richest man in this room. Haughty, influential, powerful beyond Remus’ imagination, though those were no longer words Remus uses to describe him. Behind closed doors, Sirius Black is nothing what he lets the outside world see. He is thoughtful, kind, vulnerable. And Remus has gotten to know him intimately.

Remus thrives in the knowledge that no one else here—with the exception of James Potter, Sirius’ oldest friend, and the person he trusts more than anyone—knows Sirius like he does. They think Sirius is exactly like the prim, well-spoken, aloof person he lets people see—a fact Remus knows Sirius hates, but at the same time is hesitant to disprove. Remus knows the impassive looks and terse answers are an armour Sirius has unknowingly built his whole life, because Remus is the same.

The two of them share secrets no one here is privy to, and Remus loves it. He loves that people can look at him and not suspect a thing. Usually.

The looks Sirius keeps sending him across the room now make Remus’ blood instantly shoot to areas it shouldn’t, such as his face and… well. He doesn’t mind it when it’s just the two of them, but right now—sitting next to Caradoc Dearborn, who usually doesn’t talk much, but has already asked Remus twice if he’s feeling alright—he wants to throttle the young man.

He focuses instead on everything but those silver eyes and silky hair. Eyes that look up at him so adoringly whenever he grips locks of black hair tight in his fist, moving Sirius’ head up and down on his—

He focuses on the wood grain of the table, the swirl of it as it parts around a darker spot that used to be a branch, an open void like Sirius’ wicked mouth, talented mouth…

He needs to get out of this meeting. Now.

Sirius fucked up.

He fucked up badly.

He was fairly certain his shoulder had dislocated, although he’d managed to get it back already; his chest hurt all over, especially when he breathed, which was unfortunate since he couldn’t really stop doing that; and he didn’t even want to think about the fact that his face stung, meaning he most likely had a very visible wound right in the middle of it. In addition to all that, he’d managed to splinch himself on the way back, leaving behind a chunk of his thigh, judging for the placement of the ever growing blood stain on his trousers, though he didn’t yet know how big the wound was.

More than the pain, he was ashamed he’d let himself get in this state in the first place. He hoped McKinnon—a very… lovely woman, fiercest duellist he’d ever met—would never hear of what became of him after they’d parted ways. He hoped no one would find out, which was why he was currently sneaking into one of the safe houses the Order used under the safety of the light of the waning moon.

His hopes of the house being empty were squashed the moment he stepped through the threshold, the loud creaking underneath his feet alerting whoever was already inside to his presence. He didn’t have to wait long to find out who the rapidly approaching footsteps belonged to.

“Sirius!”

“Oh.” The relief he felt upon seeing that familiar, gentle face temporarily washed away any pain. “Mr. Lupin. I’m afraid I’m a bit messed up.”

“A bit? Sirius! You need to see a Healer, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d…” The explanation seemed silly now that he was about to say it out loud to Lupin, who he kind of regarded… as someone he wanted to impress. “I thought I could do it myself and this was the first place I could think to Apparate to.”

“Still, St. Mungo’s—”

“What am I going to tell them? That this was an accident?” The splinching had been accidental, and probably the only thing he could explain away easily, but he was fairly certain Dark Magic had been involved. He could feel the remains of it in his clothes, giving them a strangely staticky quality. Sirius made a mental note of making sure to get rid of that, or perhaps he’d throw these away entirely; they were just a some Muggle clothes he’d gotten for the sole purpose of moving inconspicuously around and he wasn’t that attached. He’d burn them the moment he had something else to wear. “It’s not so bad that I couldn’t do it myself.”

Lupin regarded him carefully, taking note of the state of the wound currently stinging across Sirius’ cheek, and then his gaze moved slowly down Sirius’ body, until he let out a sharp gasp. “You’re still bleeding. Did you get into a fight?”

“Yeah. With one of them. Mask on and everything, caught me off guard for a moment and finally managed to topple a wall over me.” As much as it embarrassed Sirius to admit all this, he found himself spilling the events of his unfortunate evening under Lupin’s gentle gaze. All the way from his peaceful departure with McKinnon to the unlucky encounter with the Death Eater. Not once did Lupin interrupt him, he simply regarded him with a slight scowl in his brows Sirius hoped was because of the nature of the story and not so much Sirius’ actions in it.

“Help me, please?” Sirius finished, voice wavering slightly, but at least it still sounded stronger than he felt. He was too tired to feel any of the shame he had before. In fact, he felt the urgent need to lie down and sleep, and it seemed Lupin noticed it, too.

“Hold on, I know they have some Essence of Dittany somewhere for that cut on your face and leg… Are you hurt elsewhere?”

“I think I broke a few ribs, too. Dislocated a shoulder, but that doesn’t feel bad at all anymore.”

“Sit down. No, wait— Can you stay standing for just a moment longer? You can’t fall asleep now.”

Sirius nodded and instantly regretted it, the whole room spinning even when he stopped moving.

A hand shot out to steady him, Lupin’s harried tone reaching his ears like he was somewhere far away. “Sirius.”

He was holding a vial of something in his free hand. He must have summoned it because he didn’t trust Sirius to be able to stay conscious, which definitely felt like the right call. Belatedly, Sirius realised Lupin hadn’t stopped talking.

“I need you to undress. Just enough that I can see what I’m working with.” Lupin was exhibiting quite the impressive blush that went all the way down his neck and disappeared through the collar of his shirt. Sirius wanted to reach over and yank the shirt down, then what Lupin had asked finally hit him.

“Right. Of course.” Still, Sirius hesitated. Rationally, he knew Lupin needed to see his injuries to be able to help him, like he’d so pathetically requested mere minutes ago, but for some reason the thought alone threatened to bring a blush matching Lupin’s to Sirius’ cheeks.

“Are you in too much pain? I mean… I understand it might be uncomfortable, and I truly don’t wish to make you so, but… Do you want help?” It seemed Lupin had accidentally blurted out the last part, because he quickly added, “Would you mind?”

“Would I mind you undressing me? Never. Though I usually imagine the setting a bit more romantic”—Sirius gestured to the somewhat dilapidated room they were in; it had probably been a grand living room once, but now housed only a single armchair in front of a bricked up fireplace—“and myself a little less in pieces.”

Lupin looked stunned for a moment, before he caught Sirius’ smirk and visibly relaxed. “I’ll take that as ‘No, I’m not in too much pain to get my clothes off myself.’”

Sirius laughed, half in relief that Remus had actually joked back, half because if he didn’t laugh, he’d have blushed at his own failed attempt at flirting with the older man. Clearly not the place.

His self-consciousness about removing his clothes was quickly replaced with pain when his trousers caught on the wound on his thigh; the dried blood made the fabric stick to the tender, exposed flesh, and for a moment he didn’t know what to do about it, panic starting to swell in his chest. He heard Lupin muttering something and the fabric unstuck painlessly, the bloodstain vanishing instantly, though it left behind a small mark. It solidified Sirius’ desire to burn these clothes.

“You can sit now,” Lupin said, voice trailing off just a little as he focused a little too attentively in unstoppering the vial. “Try to stay awake and alert, alright?”

Sirius almost quipped it would be impossible to fall asleep when Lupin was looking at him like that—eyes full of worry and something hungrier Sirius knew he was trying to hide, but couldn’t quite manage. Not saying a word, he sat down and Lupin kneeled in front of him.

“I’ll put some of this on your wound and while it does its thing, we’ll take a look at your ribs, yes?”

“Yes,” Sirius echoed, eyes focused on Lupin’s hand landing on his thigh, the other tipping a few drops of the potion onto the wound. It stung immediately, almost worse than when he’d left the piece of his leg behind in the first place, and a small gasp spilled from his lips before he had time to stop it.

Lupin’s eyes flicked up to his immediately, the focused scowl turning into wide-eyed concern. “I’m sorry, I forgot that can happen. It might be sore for a few days, but it shouldn’t bleed anymore.”

As Lupin spoke, Sirius watched with fascination as the wound closed up, emitting a greenish smoke and leaving behind new skin that indeed looked tender, but healed.

“Wow, that… feels so much better.”

“That’s good to hear.” Lupin sounded very relieved. “Lift your shirt up, please. This will feel… a little uncomfortable, too. I’m sorry.”

Heat rose to Sirius’ cheeks the moment he did as told and Lupin’s cool fingers prodded his ribs. A sensation like his bones were shaking inside him followed all the soft touches, an itch he’d never before felt nearly making him jump up and run to the other side of the room, as far away from Lupin and his stupid healing magic as he could.

“I’m sorry,” Lupin repeated. “Two of your ribs were broken, but I’ve mended them now. However, it doesn’t mean you can withstand another wall falling over you just yet.”

“Oh, well. There go my plans for the weekend,” Sirius croaked. The relief he felt when the pain disappeared almost made him forget he was sitting in front of a gorgeous man with his trousers half down his legs. Lupin’s magic felt warm, almost like an embrace, as it spread from his chest outwards. “Where did you learn this much about healing? I thought you didn’t go to Hogwarts.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Sirius regretted them. “I mean… I know that’s not the only option, so did you—?”

“My father taught me,” Lupin said tersely and Sirius knew he’d managed to insult him. “He has… an interest in magical creatures and sometimes they don’t have as friendly of an interest in him.”

“You father… did a good job.”

That earned him a smile. “He did his best. He… didn’t think I’d benefit from the company of the general wizarding society, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t want to give me the best education he could.”

“That sounds familiar.”

Lupin’s gaze snapped up then, and Sirius swore he could read surprise in his eyes before the neutrally soft look Sirius had grown to expect returned.

“I’ve been wondering…” Lupin said, returning to staring firmly at Sirius’ naked chest. “How does the head of one of the most noble and ancient houses join a secret organisation like this?”

“You mean why? Because I wanted to. The question you should be asking is ‘How does someone who has spent his whole life fighting against the very existence of everything they stand for still become the head of one of the most noble and ancient houses?’”

Remus quirked a brow, a small smile dancing on his lips. “Then that’s what I shall ask. You may drop the shirt now.”

Sirius thought of the handful times he’d interacted with Lupin during the past weeks after the time they’d first properly spoken with each other, and even that couldn’t really be counted as a conversation. Not once had Lupin made him feel like Lord Black, like the rest of them did, and even now he seemed like he truly wanted to know why Sirius was here, not why Sirius Black was here.

“The simple answer is that I’m the oldest living male descendant.”

“And the… complicated answer? Lean forward, please.”

Sirius did and found himself face to face with Lupin, his fingers still delightfully cool when they stroked the skin on Sirius’ cheek, around the wound, he presumed.

“This might scar,” Lupin mumbled, then fell silent as he poked and prodded some more, though he did shoot Sirius a look he interpreted as a repeat of his earlier question. And, Sirius had never enjoyed too much silence.

“I was always meant to inherit everything. From the day I was born I’ve been taught I’m above everyone else simply because I happened to be born into the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” Sirius couldn’t help sneering at the title, which made Remus’ eyes lock to his momentarily, full of sympathy. “My parents believed being a Black made us practically wizarding royalty. I think everyone believes that. The pure-bloods, at least. I believed it for a long time.”

Lupin’s fingers fell from Sirius’ cheek and Sirius desperately wanted to ask him to put them back. He was immediately comforted when Lupin turned his attention to the wound on his thigh again, seeming to closely inspect the edges. Sirius took his silence as encouragement to continue speaking.

“They were very disappointed when I broke tradition and was sorted in Gryffindor, but said they were willing to overlook it, if I could behave. But the thing is… I’ve never been very good at behaving.”

Lupin’s gaze was turned downwards, but Sirius still saw the way his lips turned up into a quick smile.

“They thought they could disinherit me, but our family’s magic is ancient and the simple act of burning my name off the tapestry wasn’t enough to sever the tie. When my father died… it recognised me as the heir. I was Lord Black and there was nothing anyone could do about it.”

Lupin looked at him and time slowed. There was disbelief in those amber eyes, and Sirius found himself wanting to explain every single step that had led him to where he was today. But that would have taken a lot longer than the few minutes Lupin had just spent healing him, and from the looks of things, they were done.

“Why…?” Lupin shook his head, as if trying to stop himself from asking the next question. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping. Why go back? If you don’t want it.”

“I can change things like this. They tried to strip away my power, only for it to come back stronger than ever. I can’t give up. My brother… is one of them, I think. One of his followers. I think… they all might be.”

Lupin’s grip on his thigh tightened into an almost painful one, but Sirius just let him. “Oh, Sirius—”

“Moody thinks I can be a valuable asset in ‘sniffing them out.’”

“You shouldn’t have to be.” He seemed to notice how hard he was grasping Sirius and let go, though instantly stroked a hand on the spot softly.

“Mr. Lupin…”

“Call me, Remus, please. It makes me feel old when you say that.”

“You’re not that old, Remus.”

Lupin—Remus—turned away and mumbled something that to Sirius’ ears sounded like: “Old enough to know better.”

Sirius wanted to ask him—demand him—to repeat it, to tell him what he meant by that, but his words got stuck in his throat when Remus’ fingers caressed him again.

“You can redress now,” Remus said, quickly like he needed to get it out as fast as he could. “You need to report to Moody about this. Not the… aftermath, but everything else that happened.” Remus looked Sirius in the eye, his gaze captivating. He hadn’t let go. “And then take it easy for a few days. A week, if you can spare the time.”

Remus brushed a stray strand of hair away from Sirius’ face and left his hand cupping Sirius’ cheek. Shivers ran up Sirius’ spine. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him like this, gentle and soft, and Remus was doing it a lot.

“Remus…”

“Yes? Does anything still hurt?”

Sirius flushed from the almost moan he’d let out with Remus’ name. He swallowed and tried to compose himself. Remus was ancient as James had so eloquently put it, and he was just being nice to Sirius. While still resting his hand on Sirius’ thigh. Very close to—

“Sirius? Are you still in pain?”

“Oh. No. No, I was just— I wanted to put my trousers back on.”

Remus’ hands shot up as if Sirius’ skin had suddenly turned burning hot. Sirius definitely felt like it had, all over. He was very obviously aroused and there seemed to be no chance Remus hadn’t seen.

“Of course!” Remus scooted back and Sirius was treated to the wonderful sight of him struggling to get up while pulling his trousers back up. It offered a nice distraction from the embarrassment from his desperate attempts at stuffing his half-hard cock in his trousers. While Sirius was no longer in much pain, it almost looked like Remus was; the scowl on his face as he pushed himself up with hands on his knees was different than when he’d concentrated on healing Sirius, and Sirius definitely heard a stifled groan. Or maybe this was how all older people got off the cold, hard floor after kneeling on it for a longer period of time. Sirius hadn’t gotten to observe much of that happening in his life.

Both standing at their full heights, chest to chest, Sirius found himself looking slightly down at Remus, and he didn’t miss the very obvious shift of Remus’ eyes towards his lips and then back up again. A soft breath slipped past Remus’ lips, but nothing else happened.

Well… Sirius had never gotten anything he wanted by just standing around waiting. He closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips to Remus’. Remus responded to the kiss immediately, hungrily, like he’d been waiting for this and was relieved Sirius had made the first move. It encouraged Sirius more, and he pushed forward, mind filled with want. He wanted Remus to kiss him deeper, touch him more, harder, all over…

Remus’ hand had come to rest on Sirius’ cheek again, the other pushing gently at his chest, which Sirius took as a sign to stop.

“I’m sorry,” Remus breathed out. “I really shouldn’t have—”

Sirius had Remus’ collar in his fist faster than his brain could catch up and he’d shut him up with another kiss. This one was a lot shorter than the first, on the account that it was only mean to stop Remus from overly apologising.

“Thank you,” Sirius said as he pulled away, so quiet even to his own ears that he wondered if Remus heard him. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, although he meant it very sincerely.

“Sirius…”

“For healing me.”

“There was… no need to thank me at all.”

“You’d do this for anyone, then?”

“No.” Remus slid his thumb softly on Sirius’ lips before leaning in to kiss him again. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Remus isn’t sure he’s retained any information from this meeting, other than that Sirius’ undivided attention feels amazing, although he already knew that. In any case, he’s glad the meeting is over, if only because his arse was starting to fall asleep.

Dearborn’s gaze sweeps over him one more time, and Remus wonders if he has taken note of the new robes Remus is wearing today. Remus put on one of the new ones Sirius had insisted he needed, just to know what it feels like to wear them, and by Merlin he saw the look on Sirius’ eyes when he stepped into the room, could almost hear the ‘I told you you’d look amazing in forest green’ in that low murmur that made Remus’ underwear tight.

He’s stopped lying to himself a long time ago. Sirius choosing to use his money on him has always excited Remus.

As if summoned, Sirius is standing next to them, tall and imposing, and Remus’ knees suddenly feel weak.

“I’m just going to… borrow Mr. Lupin here for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Remus is powerless to stop the blush rising to his cheeks, well aware of what borrowing him means.

Dearborn’s eyebrows rise but he doesn’t say anything, but then again, that’s what he always does. Remus has no reason to think he suspects anything, not even when his eyes flick to the perhaps slightly too friendly grasp Sirius has on his arm.

“Sirius…” Remus can’t help but sigh the moment they’re out of earshot.

“Hmm?”

“Behave,” Remus says, regretting it the moment the word fills the air between them.

“I told you.” Sirius smirks. “I’ve never been good at that.”

He has no time to contemplate much more before he’s whisked away, all but dragged to the back of the house, shoved into a room that couldn’t really be called that, more like a closet despite the lack of… anything, in it.

The soft touch of Sirius’ fingers reach Remus’ jaw first, then his lips. The slightly eerie feeling from being unable to hear the outside world due to the silencing charm on the door gives way to pure lust, the trust he has in Sirius right now unbridled. Remus reciprocates the touch, running his thumb along the scar on Sirius’ face, the permanent reminder of the first time Remus had let himself feel anything for Sirius. It has healed nicely, and it isn’t even visible unless you know what to look for.

He knows he should feel ashamed for what he’s doing. And he did, in the beginning. He told himself he shouldn’t get involved with the young man with so much more power than Remus could even imagine having. He shouldn’t let himself be so drawn by him.

This is all a game to Sirius. It’s a way to tell his family the biggest ‘fuck you’ he can.

But Sirius chose him. Remus isn’t delusional enough to think of it as anything but what it is: Sirius having fun, an outlet in the stressful situation they found themselves in and Remus was available. Remus can acknowledge that and still enjoy this. He can stop thinking about the war, and what happens if they win it. Or what happens if they lose.

Somewhere, deep inside, he knows he’s being used. But he’s been used before, by many people, most of them wanting bad things of him, or they have otherwise been unclear of their intentions. Sirius wants to use Remus for his own pleasure, and Remus wants to let him. He knows he has no power. Sirius can ruin him just as easily as he fixed him, easier in fact.

Sirius is simply too irresistible, and Remus is only a man.

The events of his surprise encounter with one of Voldemort’s followers had left Sirius suspicious at best, downright jumpy at worst, and he hated it. He was becoming worse than Moody with his paranoia, and he’d told himself the sounds he’d heard during the Order meeting from the unused upstairs of the house had just been a rat, or… and owl. Or a person.

It had been a person, as he found out immediately after stepping in one of the upstairs rooms. Or more like a person-shaped lump on the floor, covered with a very familiar looking well-worn cloak.

Sirius wasn’t sure which one of them had startled the other more, but they were both now standing with their wands out, though Remus looked like any spell he attempted would only result in a weak fizzle of magic before doing any kind of damage to Sirius. The light from both their wands cast eerie shadows in the room, illuminating Remus in a way that made him look especially haggard. He looked absolutely drained of energy and it suddenly made a lot of sense why Sirius had found him on the floor.

“Remus? What are you doing here?” As much as his heart leapt from seeing the older man again, worry and suspicion fought vigorously for the number one spot as his emotional response. “I didn’t see you at the meeting.”

Remus had lowered his wand the moment Sirius started speaking, a visible tremble running through him. “Oh, yeah, I… had something I had to do and when I got here you’d already finished.”

Sirius hadn’t gotten Remus out of his head for weeks. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes his mind was filled with amber eyes and light brown hair streaked with grey, the ghost of Remus’ touch on his thigh, his face, lingering even after all this time. And the brief kisses they’d shared, nothing more, to Sirius’ immediate and absolute disappointment.

He’d hoped to catch Remus at the meeting tonight, but he hadn’t shown up. Sirius might have thought he was deliberately avoiding him, if being absent from meetings hadn’t been something Remus did quite regularly. Very regularly, in fact.

“Do you… live here?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Sirius heard how stupid it sounded. No one would choose to live here, even though this house was leagues better than the last one they’d ran into each other in.

“Sirius! Merlin, no! I just… I’m only…” It seemed Remus had no explanation ready for why Sirius had found him the way he had.

“You were… sleeping on the floor,” Sirius pointed out, as delicately as he was able.

“That doesn’t mean I live here.”

They stared at each other and Sirius wasn’t sure what he was meant to do next. Should he… leave? Let Remus get back to whatever he was doing and brush it off as him just being weird? He absolutely could do that, however… the timing of all this was just a little too… off.

There had been a full moon last night and Remus looked sickly and tired. There would be absolutely no correlation with these two things in Sirius’ mind, if he hadn’t already noted how Remus only missed meetings around the full moon. Sirius had dismissed it as a coincidence, but the more he thought about it the more an outlandish theory started making sense in his head.

He’d tried to covertly find out everything he could about Remus, first for his own peace of mind and then out of genuine curiosity, so he’d… been watching him. Closely. Remus was an excellent healer, as he’d demonstrated hands on to Sirius, yet he hadn’t pursued it as a career. To Sirius’ knowledge, Remus had pursued no career, ever. The other members spoke highly of him and his talents as a wizard, though they all seemed to think he was a very private person and knew next to nothing of his personal life. If Remus himself hadn’t offered the information that he hadn’t gone to Hogwarts, Sirius could never have even begun to guess.

Then there were the clothes that looked like they were one wrong move away from coming apart from the seams, the greying hair Sirius found absolutely delectable, but did recognise that it wasn’t exactly typical for a wizard in his mid thirties. But for a wizard who was affected by a very physically taxing event every month…

The last time he’d met Remus like this had also been after the full moon. Did Remus use these safe houses to recover, because he had no other place to go? There really was no polite way to ask someone if they were an unregistered werewolf. Naturally, the registry had been the first thing Sirius had checked, and it really shouldn’t have surprised him how willing the Ministry workers had been to show it to him. It actually disgusted him a little.

“Are you homeless?” Sirius finally blurted out.

He’d expected Remus to outright deny it, or sputter in embarrassment again, but what he got was a weary sigh. “No, Sirius. I’m not.”

“Then why were you sleeping on the dusty floor of this, frankly very disgusting, house? I can think of at least seven better places for a nap, and three of them include things in this room.” Although, as soon as he’d said it, he looked at the sofa and armchairs and understood perfectly why Remus had opted for the floor instead.

“The floor isn’t dusty, I made sure of that before sleeping on it,” Remus said simply, as if it was the most logical thing to say. And didn’t answer Sirius’ question at all.

“This is the second time I’ve met you at a safe house when it hasn’t been in use.”

“I’m just—” Remus tensed and looked sharply at Sirius. “What are you still doing here?”

“I thought there was… It doesn’t matter.”

Sirius suddenly felt like there was a boundary he’d crossed; Remus’ piercing gaze made him feel ashamed for bursting in like this, like it was in fact a normal thing to sleep on floors using only your own cloak as a blanket.

“If you need a place to stay…” Sirius wasn’t sure what he had to offer. Would he take Remus to one of the empty rooms at his family’s house? “You do know there are nicer houses the Order uses?”

Remus closed his eyes, and even in the dim wand light, Sirius recognised the exasperated look on his face. “I didn’t want to bother anyone else,” he finally said simply.

Remus said it with such resignation Sirius wondered if he always thought he was being a burden to everyone.

“Can I get you a hotel room?” Sirius asked. “It would be… a lot more comfortable than this.”

“Sirius, no, I can’t accept that—”

“Please? There’s one just down the road. Tiny, really shitty probably.” Sirius felt triumphant when Remus laughed. “But there would be a bed.”

Remus swayed in place, and Sirius knew he’d won this battle before Remus even opened his mouth to give his assent.

Sirius didn’t know what he would have done if the hotel didn’t have vacancies—probably forced Remus with him to the next one—but thankfully he only had to worry about that for the two seconds it took for the front desk to answer his query about a single room for the night.

“You carry Muggle money?” Remus whispered when Sirius dug his pockets for payment.

Sirius gave him a cold sideways look before he could stop himself.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said immediately. “I made assumptions again.”

“It’s fine,” Sirius said breezily. “Can’t really pay with our money, can I?”

Only when they stood together in the small room that was Remus’ for the night did Sirius think about the implications of his actions. He’d truly just meant to get Remus a place to sleep and then leave, knowing his money had been used for something good for once, but watching Remus watching him made Sirius want to close the short distance between them and—

“I should go,” Sirius said quickly, interrupting his own train of though before it got too far.

“Thank you,” Remus said.

“No need to—”

“For the room.” There was a mischievous glint in Remus’ eyes and Sirius knew he was thinking of the time Sirius had thanked him after he’d healed him. Sirius could almost feel Remus’ palm against his cheek, soft lips moving against his. Sirius wanted to feel it again, more than anything.

“I’d do it for anyone,” Sirius said, or attempted, because Remus had fulfilled Sirius’ wishes and strode forward to press his lips against Sirius’ before he even had time to finish his joke.

His movements a little sluggish, Remus kissed slowly but now less tenderly than the first time. Sirius let him set the pace, mind reeling with the fact that this was happening, again. And Remus was kissing him, wanted to kiss him. Remus’ hands were on him, in his hair, holding him by the waist.

When they pulled away, Remus’ cheeks had a healthy flush to them, but he still looked like he was about to drop dead from exhaustion.

“I should—” Sirius started to say, but was cut off by Remus’ grip tightening on his arm.

“Please stay?”

It was Sirius’ turn to hesitate. As much as he’d love nothing more, this wasn’t exactly what he’d planned. He wasn’t sure what he’d planned—he’d mostly been following his instincts ever since he’d found Remus sleeping on the floor—but staying with Remus hadn’t been on the very short list of the outcomes of his decisions tonight.

“I’d… love your company,” Remus added, sounding a lot less sure than a moment ago. “You could… fill me in on today’s meeting?”

“Of course,” Sirius said, his tone gentler than he’d heard himself use in months.

Limited for choice of seating, Sirius accepted Remus’ offer to sit by him on the bed, where they settled somewhat awkwardly, shoulder to shoulder, and for a moment didn’t say a word.

“Any news on the… Hmm…” Remus’ voice had instantly taken on a sleepy quality as he searched for words. “I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten what Moody talked about last week.”

“The attacks in Cornwall?”

Remus nodded, the movement seemingly too much for him as his head slumped forward.

“You should lie down.” The words were out of his mouth before Sirius had properly time to think about the implications again, but it seemed Remus was exhausted beyond caring at this point, because he scooted down the bed until he was lying next to Sirius.

Against his better judgement, Sirius reached over to stroke Remus’ hair out of his face. It seemed to have been the right call, because instead of shrugging his hand off or even snapping at Sirius, Remus snuggled closer, placing his head on Sirius’ thigh in such a show of vulnerability Sirius’ chest ached and he had to fight to be able to breathe. An arm came to rest over Sirius’ legs, and neither said a word.

Sirius didn’t dare move a muscle, except for his hand that seemed to almost move on its own, fingers brushing through curls Sirius had only dared fantasise about.

Soon Remus’ breathing slowed and his shoulders relaxed. Sirius had completely forgotten to even say anything, he’d been so focused on not making Remus feel uncomfortable. It seemed Remus had gotten very comfortable, his soft snores filling the room.

Sirius knew he should leave now that Remus was asleep , peacefully in a real bed like he’d wanted all along. He told himself he stayed because Remus’ arms were wrapped around him so tightly.

“I have the next batch of Wolfsbane waiting for you,” Sirius whispers, pulling Remus from his thoughts.

“Oh, right. Of course.” Remus doesn’t know why he’s suddenly disappointed. This has never been anything but a transaction. Sirius provided him with Wolfsbane—had for months now— got him a safe place for his transformations too even though the potion worked wonderfully and Remus was no longer a threat to anyone, and all Remus had to give him in return was… this. He has to admit that spending the day following a full moon sleeping in an actual bed in a place he could almost call his was a lot nicer than begging for a place to crash at his father’s or the few friends he had left, even though no one has never outright told him he wasn’t welcome. And it removed the stress of getting caught sleeping in Order safe houses when they weren’t in use.

Sirius doesn’t notice the slight change in mood, he’s too busy kissing Remus’ neck, hands already wandering down to palm Remus through his clothes.

“Careful— You’ll… make me… Sirius!” Remus gasps when an especially well timed combination of Sirius’ hand and mouth make him leak.

“Already?” Sirius’ tone is just the slightest bit condescending, a sign he hasn’t shed his mask. Yet. “And I had such nice plans for you.”

“Tell me.” Remus needs Sirius to let go, wants to see the version of Sirius no one else does. “What was going through your mind when you— fuck!— when Fenwick asked you a question and you didn’t hear him the first time?”

He smiles when Sirius pulls back and there’s a light dusting of pink all over his pale skin, when those piercing grey eyes turn softer.

“You wore the robes,” Sirius states, voice trembling just a little. “And all I could think was how much I wanted to take them off you.”

His hands travel to Remus’ chest, fiddling with the clasp there. Even through all the layers of clothing Remus has on, Sirius’ touch leaves his skin burning.

“And how I couldn’t wait for the meeting to be over, so I could take you somewhere private”—Sirius’ eyes flick to the closet they’re in, unclasping Remus’ robes with deft fingers—“press you against the wall, and fuck you.”

The high-quality fabric slides off Remus’ shoulders with a quiet rustle, landing by their feet. Remus manages to spare a fleeting thought to it getting wrinkled before Sirius makes good of his promise and he’s pressed against the wall, Sirius’ hands momentarily fumbling on the waistband of his pants before they’re gone too, leaving Remus completely bare. The wall is cool against his hot body, granting temporary respite before Sirius’ hands run down his back, to his arse where he kneads the cheeks long enough for Remus to grumble for him to get on with it.

A soft huff of air is all he gets in answer before slick fingers dip lower. Sirius’ mouth is pressed to Remus’ shoulder, soft lips moving, speaking to him and even though he doesn’t understand the words, the feeling of it makes him feel safe.

Remus’ moans mix with Sirius’ low chuckle as those slender fingers breach him, just the smallest bit before pulling back out, toying with him. Sirius knows Remus’ body well enough by now that he’s all too aware of what mere fingers do to him, and often spends more time than strictly necessary opening him up.

It seems this is one of those times and Remus isn’t going to complain. One hand braced on Remus’ back, keeping him firmly pressed to the wall, Sirius gives his feet a light kick to get him to stand wider. Remus complies without a word, just whines louder when Sirius’ fingers push deeper, stretching his rim with familiarity Remus misses every time they’re apart.

Sirius is gentle and slow, methodical to the point of almost being clinical, until he switches pace and catches Remus off guard. He pulls out completely, circling a single finger on the rim and the area outside it, teasing until Remus is whimpering and desperately pushing back, trying to get Sirius to give him more.

Eventually, Sirius seems to be feeling merciful and gives Remus what he wants: three fingers inside, thumb pressing on the outside, touching every single deliciously sensitive spot down there. His pleasure builds up quick and there’s nothing for Remus to hold on to, nothing to grasp as his fingers scramble for nonexistent purchase on the smooth wall. He aches for release, but doesn’t want it like this, not today.

The stolen kisses had become something they did regularly, some sort of dam having been broken between them. They weren’t enough for Sirius, who, after a meeting they’d both attended, all but dragged Remus upstairs—this time of a nicely furnished townhouse one of the Order members owned and lived in.

Testing the waters, Sirius ground his hips against Remus’, nearly hissing from the delicious friction his cock got.

Annoyingly, Remus broke the kiss then. “Sirius… I’m thirty-six.”

Sirius stared at him and waited for clarification. When it became clear that was Remus’ whole statement, Sirius said, “And I’m twenty-two. Did you wish to compare star signs and other irrelevant things, too?”

Remus laughed, thankfully. “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Sirius interjected, a little sharper than intended. “I know what I’m doing.”

Suddenly armed with determination that could have only come from frustration, he pushed Remus to sit down and got on his knees in front of him. The scene reminded him immediately of the day he’d run into Remus when he’d been injured, though there were no injuries now. The state of arousal seemed to be exactly the same.

“Does your old age of thirty-six mean you’re only interested in kissing, then? Or can I suck you off?”

“Sirius…”

“Yes?” he asked, deliberately elongating the vowel as if he had no idea why Remus’ tone had such an edge to it.

“Yes,” Remus confirmed, grabbing a fistful of Sirius’ hair and pulling his head closer to his crotch.

Encouraged by Remus’ enthusiasm—finally—Sirius let himself whimper when he planted face first against Remus’ clothed cock, the hardness very evident from this distance. Hands nearly trembling from excitement, Sirius worked to get Remus’ cock free as fast as he was able, swatting away Remus’ other hand when he tried to help.

As he got to his target, Sirius hesitated just a moment. He was by no means inexperienced, but there was only so much experimentation his station had allowed, and, yes, Remus’ cock was the first he’d sucked. Ever.

It was immediately obvious, but Remus said nothing, simply adjusted his grip on Sirius’ hair and softly guided him, slow and steady. Sirius followed the movement, taking just the head in his mouth first, then out again.

Trying to remember what had felt good for himself was proving exceedingly more difficult the more he took Remus’ cock in his mouth. Tongue was good, wasn’t it? Teeth, not so much.

“Put your hand on the base, you don’t have to take it all in.”

Remus wasn’t too big, but Sirius imagined any kind of cock was bound to be a little overwhelming at first. The soft puffs of air Remus was seemingly unable to control emboldened Sirius; he was doing something right, and it felt good for Remus. He was making Remus feel good.

“Your mouth feels so good, Sirius,” Remus panted, twisting Sirius’ hair in his fist a little painfully now, but Sirius took it as another good sign. “You can— Oh, yes, that’s it.”

Sirius pumped his hand in tandem with the bobbing of his mouth, Remus’ hold on him slackening with every pass. After a moment, it started to feel good for him too, the way Remus’ cock filled his mouth perfect, every slide of it against his tongue shooting waves of pleasure straight down to his own cock.

“I’m going to come, you might not want it in your mouth just yet,” Remus warned before long.

Yet, reverberated in Sirius’ head as he back away, keeping his hand on Remus’ cock as Remus tugged the final few times before coming with a gasp, all over his stomach.

Unceremoniously, Sirius got up off the floor and straddled the still half-naked Remus, whose arms wrapped around him immediately. Remus gazed up at him, a slightly dazed look in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

“I want you, Remus.” The demand came out in an almost desperate plea, but he was beyond caring. Sirius wanted to see that look every day of his life. He’d never wanted anything more in his life. “Let me have you.”

“You can have anything.”

“Sirius… slow down.”

Without question, Sirius does, fingers stilling inside Remus, but not pulling out. Sirius discovered early on that Remus could only come once and then needed a break, to Remus’ immediate embarrassment. He said he wanted to ‘play with the limits of that’ sometime, and the thought alone makes Remus’ cock harder, if that’s even possible. In fact, Sirius has pushed beyond his limits in all ways possible, and he only wants more.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The time you promised to make me come more than once,” Remus says truthfully, his brain already far too addled for anything less than the whole truth.

Sirius presses against him, fingers still inside, and Remus’ cock twitches from the realisation that Sirius is still fully clothed. His expensive robes feel soft and silky against Remus’ skin, the contrast of the gentle slide of them with the rough way Sirius has him where he wants drawing an involuntary whine from Remus. Remus feels absolutely obscene knowing where they are and what this would look like if someone were to walk in. Somewhere in the back of his mind there’s a thought that it couldn’t happen, Sirius always makes sure, but the possibility still exists and at this very moment, it excites Remus beyond measure.

“Do you want that… now?” Sirius asks, voice husky in Remus’ ear. The way his hips shift make it obvious how much the thought arouses him.

“I think… I think I just want you to fuck me now. And then later… someplace better…”

Sirius kisses the shell of his ear and Remus takes it as a promise. He can’t help but whine at the loss of Sirius’ fingers, mind too focused on the present to give it up, even though he knows what to anticipate.

Sirius doesn’t undress past what’s necessary—getting his cock out—and soon he is back, holding Remus up and supporting him when his legs start to tremble. He takes a moment to simply hold the head of his cock on Remus’ hole before pressing in slowly, knowing this is Remus’ favourite part, the part that already makes him see stars.

“You feel amazing,” Sirius breathes in his ear as he slowly presses deeper and deeper, stretching Remus again, in a different way than before, but no less wonderful. “I’ve thought about this all day. I nearly skipped the meeting altogether, just wanted to wait for you to come out so I could— fuck!”

The sensation of Sirius inside, pressed against him, whispering in his ear, makes Remus nearly come and he is clenching around Sirius. Remus loves the way it’s so obvious how his train of thought snaps in two, careful control slipping until it reveals Sirius underneath. Sirius, who takes this risk with Remus like he has nothing to lose. Sirius, who is considerate and kind and so damn sexy. Sirius with all the stamina and impatience of his twenty-two years.

Sirius’ hands drop to Remus’ hips, holding tight as he sets a fast pace. Remus needs to only hold himself upright, and even that is mostly covered by the wall he’s getting slammed against. He revels in the realisation that Sirius seems to have forgotten anything but his own pleasure, hips slamming against Remus’ arse too fast, almost too hard. Moans filled the room long ago, the sound of skin slapping skin joins it.

Sirius comes with a low groan, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Remus’ waist, cock pulsing deep inside.

Sirius wastes no time after pulling out; his mouth is back on Remus in an instant, hands roaming on his body, sides, back, thighs.

“You’re exquisite.”

It’s almost like a ritual now, this… worship. Remus once accidentally said he thought he was ugly, and after that Sirius made sure Remus knew exactly how much Sirius loves his body.

Remus enjoyed sex, naturally, even before he met Sirius. Now he loves it. He craves it. None of his earlier partners would have ever even though of the things Sirius does.

A tentative lick to his rim already has Remus gasping; he didn’t notice Sirius dropping down to his knees, hands spreading Remus open. When Sirius doesn’t immediately do it again, he nearly starts begging. The ache in his cock has grown to nearly unbearable, Sirius’ harsh pounding not quite enough to tip him over the edge, but he knows this will.

Sirius touches him everywhere but his cock, knows he doesn’t need to. Remus makes sure he doesn’t hold in any sounds—and at this point, he wouldn’t even be able to—knowing how insane they drive Sirius. Sometimes Sirius is even hard again by the time he gets Remus off, and Remus thrives on the knowledge that he made that happen.

Tongue taking the place of the earlier fingers, Sirius continues his ministrations with Remus’ hole, dipping in and out, licking broad swipes all the way from his balls to his hole. Each passing second brings Remus closer to his orgasm, and when Sirius finally reaches over to wrap a hand on his cock, the release takes over, all tension snapping loose and Remus feels it in his whole body.

Sirius doesn’t stop touching him, and Remus is vaguely aware of muttered praise. It still feels good, but Sirius is mindful of Remus’ wishes and doesn’t try to make him hard again, only kisses and licks lightly enough that Remus gets down from the high of his orgasm slowly and gently.

Even after all this, Remus still feels so… lonely. Entirely without his permission, a melancholy feeling sweeps over him, like he isn’t here with Sirius at all. Suddenly the realisation that Sirius can never be fully his is too strong to ignore, and everything becomes too much, too fast.

They’ll stop soon and perhaps Sirius will take him somewhere where there’s a soft bed, a hot shower. But it will end, eventually. The thought enters Remus’ mind, replaces the soft haze of his orgasm until it’s all he can think about, all he can feel.

“Have you heard of Wolfsbane? The new potion?”

Remus tensed, jaw clenching so hard Sirius swore he could hear teeth grinding.

“Yes,” he said, with forced calm Sirius saw right through. He was almost fully dressed now, and half turned away from Sirius. He stayed turned away, as if that would stop Sirius from reading him like an open book. “I like to keep up with new magical breakthroughs.”

Remus’ tone was light, but Sirius knew he’d managed to hit the nail on the head. It wasn’t perhaps the most conventional of post-coital topics, but Sirius was done dancing around it.

“Remus, I know you’re a werewo—”

“Sirius!” Remus’ voice was harsher than Sirius had ever heard. “Do you understand what you’re about to do? What would happen if more people knew?”

“I wasn’t going to tell—”

“Haven’t you been listening to Moody? Every wall has ears.”

Sirius suppressed the urge to look around, as if he could check if Remus’ statement was true.

“We’re well and truly alone here, I assure you.”

Here was another hotel room Sirius had gotten for Remus in anticipation of the full moon. It seemed Remus hadn’t caught up to what Sirius was doing, but he’d been more than happy to let Sirius ride him until he’d come screaming loud enough for the whole street to hear. Or would have heard, if Sirius hadn’t secured the room with an array of protective spells Moody had drilled into them, including more than one silencing spell.

Remus seemed to realise that, too.

“Okay,” he finally said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You know.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not… repulsed?”

“I wasn’t repulsed by your age, and I’m not repulsed by this.”

“How long…?”

“I’ve known… for a long time.”

“You’re not…? Scared? Of it?” The words were so quiet Sirius had to strain his hearing. Remus was the one who sounded absolutely terrified.

Sirius’ first instinct was to laugh. He wanted to scoff and ask ‘Have you seen yourself?’, but it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen what Remus was afraid of. He thanked Remus’ amazing cock for mellowing him enough that he was able to take this moment and just stay silent, because it seemed to be the best thing to do.

“You know,” Remus repeated, finally sounding more relieved than shocked.

“I don’t think anyone else does, unless you’ve told them. I just… happened to have a very keen interest in you. ”

Remus turned to him then, and Sirius’ stomach lurched from seeing the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Sirius cursed Remus for being so damn sincere all the time.

“You could get Wolfsbane—”

“Sirius, no.” Remus’ tone was so gentle, so sad, that Sirius immediately wanted to wrap his arms around him, press close and just hold him.

“It works. I read about it.”

“I know.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“I can’t let you do all this for me.”

“I want to. In fact, I want more. I’ll get you a house— A… flat, a room,” he amended quickly, seeing Remus’ disapproving frown. “Anything to get you out of sleeping on the floors of our safe houses.”

“I’m not homeless.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but you’re not exactly convincing.”

“Sirius, I don’t need a house.”

“But you need the potion. You need clothes, food. I’ve seen how you eat like you’re afraid it’s your last meal whenever we have dinner served during meetings. I can give you that.”

“You are far too perceptive for your own good.” Remus stroked a finger down Sirius’ nose, which greatly lessened the impact of his harsh tone.

“The robes were nice, weren’t they?”

Sirius had bought them on a whim, thinking of Remus the whole time. He’d expected reproach, but to his surprise Remus had simply thanked him—with a kiss, naturally—and hadn’t said anything more about it. He’d even worn them, a fact that had had made Sirius so turned on Remus had fingered him to orgasm in the bathroom during the meeting and he’d come without even touching his cock.

“And what”—Remus looked dubious, but Sirius’ heart leapt at the mere hint that he was considering this—“would you get out of this?”

“You,” Sirius answered immediately.

Remus stared at him, expression frozen to uncertainty. Then, it was like any doubt he had simply melted away, the wrinkle between his brows smoothed out and he started… laughing. Boisterously, Sirius would have described it if that word had fit Remus Lupin in any way.

“What’s funny?” he finally asked, when Remus calmed down a little.

“You’re so…” Remus hid another fit of laughter behind his palm and Sirius still though it was the most endearing thing, even when he heard the next words. “Young.”

Sirius finally sat up, feeling the conversation taking a turn. “I’m so young? What’s that got to do with—?”

“Everything, Sirius.”

Sirius twitched, gulping air. The way Remus said his name shouldn’t have elicited such a response, and Remus had clearly noticed, if the way he flinched was any indication. They were in the middle of a serious conversation and getting hard because of Remus was not appropriate now.

But, it might give him the edge he needed.

“You make me happy, Remus,” Sirius said, not missing the way Remus’ eyes softened immediately. “I want to keep… doing this. With you. Being with you, and, yes, getting things for you because it makes me happy when you are.”

Remus frowned, but didn’t look away. Sirius took that as a good sign. “You’d buy me?”

“Ye— No!”

Remus quirked a brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Yes,” Sirius conceded. “In a sense. If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“How else would you look at it?”

“Listen. I have money. Lots of it. There’s no better way for me to use it.”

“Your family’s money.”

“My money. I’m Lord Black. It’s mine to use as I want.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Remus’ brows knit together, the corners of his lips turned down.

“That is the problem. You’re not thinking—!”

“I have thought about this! I want to use my wealth on you, is that so wrong of me? It’s my choice. One of the only choices in my fucking life that’s been truly mine to make! And if that makes me naive or stupid or…”

Arms wrapped around him as he trailed off, choking on his own words. To his horror, tears burned his eyes, and he welcomed the chance to hide his face in Remus’ shoulder. The now so familiar scent of Remus’ worn robes had an immediately calming effect on Sirius; he hadn’t even realised how tense he’d been.

“I’m sorry,” Remus murmured, tightening his hold on him. “I’m worried, you understand why, right? If people find out…”

“Let them.”

“We could lose— No, you could lose so much, Sirius. Frankly, I don’t have much left to lose.”

“And what exactly would I lose in the case we were ever found out?”

“If people knew you were… seeing”—Remus hissed the word like it was a curse—“a half-blood werewolf? Using your money on me? You’d lose your family, for one—”

“I don’t care.”

“—your status—”

“Don’t care.”

“—your… friends?”

“Just James, and he’s already been through one disinheritance fiasco. I’m sure he could handle another, no problem.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You haven’t asked anything of me. I want this,” Sirius interrupted. “You said it yourself: What do you have left to lose?”

Remus’ fists tightened in Sirius’ robes and for a moment he feared he was about to be pushed away, shoved aside, unwanted.

“You— You don’t understand at all,” Remus whispered into his hair, but Sirius heard it as clear as if he’d shouted it.

“Then explain—”

“Alright. Let’s try it. The way you want it. There’s nothing left for me to lose.”

“Are you alright?” Sirius asks, because of course he notices the moment Remus is no longer enjoying this.

“Yes,” Remus lies, but can’t hide the sob of relief when Sirius backs away from him. “Just… a bit sensitive.”

Sirius helps him to the floor but doesn’t let him sit on it, instead pulling him on his lap and wrapping the long since discarded robes around him.

“Was it too much?”

For a moment Remus is confused; he was certain he hadn’t spoken any of his fears aloud. Then he realises Sirius was asking about the sex.

“No, never.”

Sirius stays silent, tightening his hold on Remus and resting his head against his shoulder, almost as if waiting until Remus gets uncomfortable enough with the silence that he starts spilling everything.

It works.

“Sirius… This… what we do. I love it, so much— But I think—”

Sirius sits up straight again, trying to catch Remus’ eye, but he can’t look that way. “You want to stop?”

“No, I— I didn’t say anything like that.”

Warm fingers trace Remus’ face, the touch soft and meant to comfort, but all Remus can think is of all the ways those fingers have brought him pleasure. All that can be taken away from him.

“What are you afraid of?” Sirius whispers. “There’s nothing to worry about with me and you said you don’t have anything left to lose.”

“I lied,” Remus whispers back, unsure if he should be impressed with the way Sirius seems to know exactly what Remus is thinking, or terrified of it.

Sirius tenses, and Remus is filled with fear of getting pushed off. There’s nothing stopping Sirius from getting up and leaving Remus here. But Sirius doesn’t move, not until they’ve both drawn in several deep breaths. Then, the fingers return, turning Remus’ head to Sirius, and he’s unable to stop it.

“What do you mean?” Sirius finally asks, voice as sincere as Remus has ever heard it. Maybe that’s why he says it.

“You. I could lose you.” The confession sits right there in his mouth and comes out so easily; he has wanted to say it for months now.

Sirius pulls back, clearly surprised. “What—?”

“I want you. More than… this.” Remus gestures to around them. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop it. And I don’t want you to stop… buying me things either. I love it. But I want to know I can have you after, all to myself. The Sirius no one else gets to have. I want all of this and I can’t because you’re…”

Sirius has been listening to Remus’ rambling, eyes wide and mouth open a little, and now he gasps in a breath as if he’d forgotten to do it the whole time. “Because I’m rich? Pure-blooded? Young?”

“All of those things. We wouldn’t have even met if there wasn’t a war going on, and what happens when this is all over? If we win? If we lose? You’ll have your obligations and I’ll have nothing. This is all I have. You are all I have and I can’t lose you. There will be a day you’ll realise I have nothing to give you and you’ll toss me aside, unwanted—”

“Remus!” Sirius’ tone is sharp, but his eyes still hold tenderness. “I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

“I’m boring, Sirius, you know that. You’ll get bored of me not being exciting and young and—”

“Are we not sitting together in a closet in a safe house? Naked, I might add, because we just fucked in here while the rest of the Order was right outside the door. Doesn’t get much more exciting than that.”

Remus doesn’t point out that only one of them is naked.

“I’ve known what I’m getting myself into this whole time.” Sirius leans in for a kiss, just a peck, but it makes Remus calmer than any reassurances he can utter. “Remus, you’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been. I’m—” Sirius lets out a laugh, wildly inappropriate in Remus’ opinion, but he feels like he’s in no position to judge. “I’m sorry that I haven’t made it abundantly clear. It’s a little insulting that you’d think I’m after something other than what I already have.”

It takes Remus embarrassingly long to realise Sirius means him. “You… really want me?”

“Forever, if you’ll let me.”

“Yes. Anything you want.”

“Good,” Sirius says decisively. “And while we’re on the topic… That was an impressive list you just rattled off. About what you want. I want to hear more of it. All of it.”

Remus opens his mouth to answer, but Sirius silences him with fingers on his lips. He slips two inside, almost carelessly.

“We might as well do it somewhere more comfortable. While I make good of that promise I made earlier. Sound good?”

Remus nods. It sounds like exactly what he wants.