Highway to Nowhere

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed, hands still trembling from the nervous energy he couldn’t quite shake. His eyes darted toward the window, where the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the thick curtains, casting a faint, silver glow across the room. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since the last full moon, but somehow, everything had changed in the span of a few short weeks. The events that transpired since that night in the hospital wing were still too fresh in his mind, gnawing at him like a dog on a bone, refusing to let go.

Remus had kept that letter from Grant Chapman close to him, always slipping it into his bag or folding it carefully, as if it were something more important than just a piece of paper. Sirius couldn’t understand it. Why was that letter such a big deal? What did it mean to Remus, exactly? And why did it gnaw at him, this need to know? It wasn’t as if Grant was some long-lost lover—he was just some Muggle, wasn’t he? A friend from the orphanage, someone Remus had known before any of this—before Hogwarts, before the Marauders.

The way Remus had looked at that letter, though—it was as if the words inside were more than just a note. As if they held some secret that had remained locked away for far too long. Sirius could almost feel the weight of it in his own chest, though he couldn't figure out why. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t figure it out.

There were other things on his mind too. The way Remus had been acting lately—the way he’d laughed off Sirius’ attempts to lighten the mood when the subject of Grant had come up, as though it were nothing. As though everything was just fine. But Sirius knew better. He always knew when something was off with Remus. The quiet sighs, the way his eyes would briefly flicker to the letter as if he were hoping it held an answer to something he didn’t quite understand. Sirius could see the weight of whatever was bothering him, but he had no idea how to help.

He’d tried joking about Florence Prewett, tried to get a rise out of Remus, but it never worked the way he hoped. Remus didn’t seem interested in the teasing or the distraction, his thoughts too far removed, too caught up in whatever else was going on in his mind. And that only made Sirius’ frustration grow. He hated feeling like he was on the outside, like he couldn’t reach Remus, couldn’t pull him back from wherever his mind had gone.

But it wasn’t just the letter. It wasn’t just the way Remus had started keeping his distance, pretending everything was fine. No, it was something else. Something more personal. Sirius couldn’t shake the strange, unfamiliar jealousy that had begun to creep in. He wasn’t jealous of Florence, though the thought of Remus even entertaining the idea of someone else made his stomach churn. It was the past—Grant Chapman, this Muggle who had known Remus long before Sirius had ever even met him. A boy who had seen Remus for who he was, for what he was, and who had been there for him when no one else had.

The realization hit him hard, like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just that Remus had this history he’d never shared with him—it was that Remus had been seen by someone else. Someone who had been there when Remus had needed them most, when Sirius hadn’t even known Remus existed.

Sirius hated the thought of it. Hated the idea of someone else being so important to Remus, someone who had understood him in ways Sirius never had the chance to. And now that Grant’s letter had come back into Remus’ life, it was like a shadow hanging between them, reminding Sirius that he wasn’t the only one who had ever mattered to Remus.

What did it mean, though? What was it about Grant that still had such a hold on Remus? Was he still carrying the weight of that boyhood friendship, even now? Sirius didn’t know, but the more he thought about it, the more it twisted inside him. He couldn’t quite explain why, but every time he saw Remus look at that letter with such intense concentration, he felt like there was something that wasn’t being said—something that Remus wasn’t telling him.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. He needed to talk to Remus about it, didn’t he? But how could he? Every time the subject came up, Remus grew quiet, closed off, and Sirius was left standing there, unsure of what to say. It felt like the more he pressed, the more Remus retreated into himself, and the more Sirius began to feel like the invisible, unspoken tension between them was only growing.

Sirius wanted to understand. He needed to understand. Why was this Grant person so important? What did that letter mean to Remus? And what was it about that fragile, secretive expression that made Sirius want to just tear it all down—every wall Remus had carefully built around himself?

But then there was another thought, one that chilled him to the core. What if Grant wasn’t just some boy from Remus’ past? What if he meant something more? What if he was something Remus needed, something Sirius could never be?

The mere idea of it made his heart race, his breath catch in his throat. And for the first time in a long while, Sirius realized he was terrified—terrified of what it all meant, terrified of what he meant to Remus, terrified that he was about to lose him to someone or something he couldn’t compete with.

With a frustrated growl, Sirius stood up abruptly. He couldn’t sit here thinking about it anymore, couldn’t let his mind spin in circles like this. The only way to get answers was to talk to Remus, to finally confront whatever it was that lay between them—whether it was about the letter, about Grant, or something deeper.

Sirius didn’t know if he was ready for it, but the truth was, he couldn’t keep pretending. He couldn’t keep acting like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. He needed to know. He needed to understand. And if that meant facing the uncomfortable reality of his own feelings—then so be it.

He was going to get the answers he needed. One way or another

Sirius stood just inside the door of their dorm, hesitating for a moment before he stepped forward. The room was quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional clink of a quill against parchment the only sounds filling the air. The warm glow of the fire flickered across the room, casting long shadows that stretched over the familiar furniture, the four-poster beds where they all slept and lived. This was their space—the Marauders’ lair, the place where so many moments had been shared, where laughter had echoed and where, on nights like this, things felt heavier than usual.

He walked toward Remus’s bed, stopping just a few feet away, the weight of his earlier thoughts still lingering in his chest. Remus hadn’t noticed him yet, his back to Sirius as he continued to sit by the window, staring out at the grounds, lost in his own thoughts.

Sirius didn’t need to knock. There was no door to open, no formality to this. They shared this room, shared this space. It had always been a sort of unspoken rule: their beds, their things, their lives all coexisted in this small corner of the world. It was a place of safety, of friendship. And yet, tonight, it felt like something more. Something… fragile.

Remus looked up only when Sirius had moved closer, but even then, he didn’t say anything. He just gave him that same unreadable look, the one Sirius had been struggling to understand for weeks now. It wasn’t that Remus was angry—Sirius knew his friend too well for that. But there was something off about him lately, something quiet and distant, like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

“I was going to wait for you to come back from your rounds,” Remus said quietly, his voice a little rough around the edges, as though he had been holding something in all day. “But I… wasn’t sure you’d want to talk.”

Sirius bit his lip, feeling his heart rate pick up. This was it. The moment he had been dreading and yearning for all at once. He wasn’t good at these sorts of conversations—didn’t know how to put everything into words without sounding foolish. But he couldn’t keep avoiding it. Not anymore.

“I… I don’t know how to start this, Moony,” Sirius admitted, dropping onto the edge of his bed. He was too close now to ignore it, too close to keep pretending that nothing had changed. “I’ve been trying not to make a big deal out of it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Remus didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away, though Sirius could feel the tenseness in his posture. Instead, Remus just nodded, almost knowingly, as though he’d been expecting this. “I know you’re upset about the letter,” he said, glancing down at the parchment still resting on his desk. “But I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

Sirius’s brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s not just the letter,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his voice lowering. “It’s everything, Remus. It’s the way you’ve been acting. The way you’ve been pulling away from me. From all of us. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

For a long moment, Remus was silent, his gaze fixed on the window again as if the stars outside might have some sort of answer for him. Sirius was beginning to think he wouldn’t say anything at all when Remus finally spoke again, his voice quieter than before.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about St. Edmund’s lately,” Remus said, his voice sounding almost fragile. “About what I left behind. About the people I left behind.” He hesitated, turning his head to meet Sirius’s gaze, but not quite looking him in the eye. “I never got the chance to tell Grant the truth. Not about… about what I am. About the wolf.”

Sirius’s chest tightened at the mention of Grant, but he forced himself to remain calm. “I get it, Remus. You didn’t want him to be scared of you. You didn’t want him to think differently of you.”

Remus finally met his gaze, and there was something so raw in his eyes that Sirius felt his breath catch. “But I wasn’t scared of him. I wasn’t ashamed. And now I feel like I’ve made all these decisions for the wrong reasons.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t stop thinking about him. What he’d think now, after everything that’s happened. And it feels like… like it’s all my fault.”

Sirius stood up, walking over to the window and leaning against the stone wall beside it, his arms crossed tightly. He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to fix it. Remus was talking about something he couldn’t even begin to understand—this part of his life that existed before Hogwarts, before he had a real family.

“I just wanted to be good enough for him,” Remus continued softly, almost to himself. “But I’ve always felt like I wasn’t enough. Not for anyone. Not even for you, sometimes.”

Sirius’s heart dropped at that, and before he could stop himself, he was standing right in front of Remus again. The space between them felt impossibly small now, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to bridge it. He wanted to reach out, to touch Remus’s shoulder, his arm, to do something to show him that he wasn’t alone in this. But more than that, he wanted to tell Remus how much he mattered—how much Remus had always mattered to him.

“You don’t have to be anything for me, Moony,” Sirius said, his voice softer now. “You never have. You’re enough just the way you are. And you always will be.”

Remus met his gaze again, his face softening just a little. The silence between them was heavy, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt like the kind of quiet you share with someone you trust completely, someone who understands you in ways no one else can.

“I don’t know what to do with all this,” Remus admitted, his voice small. “With everything I’m feeling.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say to that, but the words didn’t feel as important as the action. Without thinking, he took a step forward and placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder. It was simple, but it was something. He didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t even know what would come next. But he knew he would be here for Remus, no matter what.

And as Remus looked up at him, his eyes filled with something almost fragile, Sirius felt that same tug at his heart, that feeling of longing he had tried to ignore for so long. But it wasn’t just the weight of Remus’s past that made Sirius feel this way. It was the weight of everything they had shared together, everything they might share in the future.

For now, though, he was just here—here with Remus, in this moment, offering him the one thing he knew for certain: his presence, his support, his understanding. It was the best he could offer, and for now, it was enough.

Remus gave him a small, almost hesitant smile, and for the first time in a long time, Sirius felt like maybe everything was going to be okay.

Sirius stood there, hand still on Remus’s shoulder, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. Remus’s smile was faint, but it was real. And for a moment, it was enough. He wanted to say so much—wanted to spill out the feelings he had been holding back, tell Remus everything. He wanted to confess how much he cared, how much he had always cared. But the words were tangled in his throat, and he couldn’t find a way to speak them.

“I—” Remus started, but then his voice faltered, and he glanced down at his hands. “I’m sorry, Sirius. I shouldn’t have said all of that. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”

Sirius shook his head quickly, brushing away the apology before it could go any further. “No,” he said, more firmly than he intended. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. You can talk to me, Moony. You can always talk to me.”

Remus looked up at him then, his eyes wide, almost searching. It was a look Sirius wasn’t used to seeing—vulnerable, unsure. But it was real, and it made something stir in his chest. Something that told him this wasn’t just a conversation between friends. Not anymore. And he didn’t know what to do with that feeling, except to stand there, trying to be what Remus needed him to be.

“I just…” Remus trailed off, his hands fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’ve spent so much time trying to protect everyone from what I am, that I forgot how to let people in. I don’t know if I’m doing this right, you know? I don’t know how to… how to just be.”

Sirius’s breath hitched, the vulnerability in Remus’s words hitting him harder than he expected. He wanted to reach out more—to pull Remus closer, to make him feel like everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t know if that was what Remus needed, not right now. He didn’t know what the next step was. But all he could do was offer the truth.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Sirius said, his voice softening. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. We don’t need any of that. We just need you. We’ve always needed you.”

Remus’s breath caught, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something else, but then he just nodded slowly. His eyes were still searching, but it was different now. Less like he was looking for answers, and more like he was beginning to understand that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to not have all the answers.

Sirius hesitated for a moment longer, wanting to say something more, but not knowing exactly how to put it. The room was quiet again, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. There was a peace in the stillness between them, something unspoken but understood. It was enough for now.

“I should probably let you get some rest,” Sirius said, breaking the silence. His hand was still on Remus’s shoulder, but he slowly pulled it away, unsure of whether it was the right thing to do.

Remus gave a small, wry smile. “You can stay if you want. I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep anyway.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, unable to resist the invitation. “You sure you want me to stay? Might get a bit loud. I can’t promise I won’t snore.”

Remus’s smile grew, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something warm in his chest.

“I think I can handle it,” Remus said softly.

And so, with that, Sirius sat down on the edge of Remus’s bed, his gaze falling to the floor, not sure what to do with himself now that they were sitting there, in this space that felt like more than just a shared dorm room. It felt like a turning point—like something was about to shift between them, and neither of them could quite put their finger on what it was.

For a long time, they sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background, the occasional sound of the wind brushing against the window. It wasn’t a tension-filled silence, but something more comfortable. More intimate.

Eventually, Remus leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes, though Sirius could tell he wasn’t really sleeping. The way his lips were slightly parted, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, it was as if he was still working through the thoughts swirling in his mind. And though Sirius wanted to say more, to ask him what he was thinking or what he was feeling, he didn’t. He just sat there, offering his presence, his quiet support.

“Thanks for staying,” Remus murmured after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius looked over at him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like ages. He gave a small nod, smiling softly.

“Anytime, Moony,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart was beating faster than he cared to admit.

And as they sat there together, in the quiet of the night, something between them began to shift. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there. The way they looked at each other, the way the air felt between them—it was different now. And for once, Sirius didn’t feel the need to push it away. He didn’t need to rush. Whatever this was, he was willing to let it happen in its own time

It was a few days after that conversation in the dormitory, and Sirius couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He kept replaying Remus’s words in his head, the way he’d spoken about Grant, about how Grant knew about the werewolf, how they had grown close at St. Edmund’s, how it seemed like something important between them. It hadn’t fully hit Sirius at first—the weight of those words, the way Remus had been so insistent about the idea that Grant knew everything, that he’d accepted Remus for who he was. But now, with a bit of time to think it through, it didn’t sit right.

Sirius knew Remus. He knew him better than anyone else in this castle. Remus wasn’t the type to open up to just anyone. The things Remus had told him, the things he had let Sirius see—the hurt, the fear, the vulnerability—those weren’t things he’d just share with anyone. And yet, with Grant, someone Remus had known before Hogwarts, he’d suddenly made it sound like it had been easy. Like there had been no fear, no hesitation in sharing that part of himself.

But it wasn’t just the mention of Grant. It was how Remus had described him—like they were so close, like there was something more to their relationship, something deeper. Something that made Sirius’s stomach twist when he thought about it. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach—the feeling that perhaps he wasn’t the person Remus had turned to for comfort, for understanding. And maybe that was true. But there was something off about the way Remus had lied, or at least, the way he had bent the truth. It had bothered Sirius at first, but now it was driving him mad.

The more Sirius thought about it, the more he became convinced. Remus had lied.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Sirius finally decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. They were alone in their dorm room again—James and Peter had gone off to practice quidditch, leaving the two of them in the quiet of the room. Remus was sitting at the window again, as usual, writing something in that old, tattered notebook of his, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Sirius had been pacing for a few minutes, his thoughts swirling, before he finally walked up to him, stopping just behind Remus. There was an itch in the back of his mind, something he had to scratch, something that had to be said. Something that had to be asked.

"Moony," he said, voice low and tentative.

Remus didn’t look up immediately, still absorbed in what he was writing. His quill scratched softly against the paper, but Sirius could tell he was aware of him standing there.

"Yeah?" Remus finally asked, turning his head just enough to meet his eyes, though his expression remained guarded.

Sirius inhaled sharply, trying to get his words in order. It felt strange, this conversation. It wasn’t like the usual banter they shared, the easy camaraderie between them. No, this was something more serious. Something that, deep down, had been bothering him for far too long.

“You said Grant knew about the wolf,” Sirius started, his voice steady but his mind running in circles. “That he knew about what you are, about… everything.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “But I don’t think that’s true. Not the way you said it.”

Remus’s expression faltered for a split second, before he masked it again, looking back down at the notebook in his lap as if nothing had changed.

Sirius wasn’t fooled. Not this time.

“I don’t get it, Moony,” Sirius continued, the words coming faster now, the frustration starting to build in his chest. “You—you are always so careful, always so cautious about who you trust with this. And Grant, this Muggle who doesn’t know what you really are, just accepts you like it’s nothing?”

Remus stiffened, his grip on the quill tightening just slightly. Sirius could see it—the way he was holding something back. The way he didn’t want to say the words, didn’t want to face whatever truth was hiding behind his carefully crafted facade.

“I don’t understand why you’re lying about him knowing, Remus,” Sirius pressed, trying to keep his voice calm, though inside he was anything but. “You can tell me the truth. Why was it so easy for him to accept you? Why is it so different with him?”

Remus stood up abruptly, pushing the notebook aside, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His face had gone pale, his jaw clenched tight.

“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice a little sharp. “I didn’t lie. It’s just—complicated.”

Sirius blinked, trying to hold his ground. “Complicated?” He shook his head, taking a step closer. “You don’t need to hide things from me, Moony. I’m not going to judge you.”

“I know that!” Remus snapped, his eyes flashing with frustration. “But you don’t get it. You never could. It’s not that simple.”

Sirius’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched Remus struggle, the walls he’d carefully constructed around himself beginning to crack. He reached out before he could stop himself, gently gripping Remus’s arm.

“Then tell me, Remus,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Tell me what’s going on. Because I don’t get it. And I need to know.”

There was a long pause, the air thick with tension. Remus’s breath was shallow, his eyes darting away from Sirius, unsure of how to answer. And for the first time, Sirius felt like he was seeing the truth—or at least, a version of it—that Remus had been hiding all along. Something was wrong, something deeper than he was letting on.

The room was thick with tension. Remus stood frozen, eyes wide, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Sirius’s hand was still on his arm, his fingers clenched tight, unwilling to let go. Neither of them said anything for a long time—just stood there, the silence swallowing everything.

But the silence wasn’t comfortable anymore. It wasn’t the kind of silence they’d shared on quiet nights, in the middle of shared laughter or long talks about their futures. No, this silence felt suffocating, like something unsaid was hanging between them, too heavy to ignore.

Sirius felt the frustration gnawing at him, his thoughts spiraling out of control. Everything Remus had said earlier made no sense. Grant knew everything, but that didn’t explain why Remus had lied about him knowing about the wolf. It didn’t explain why Remus had let this person into his life in a way that no one else had been let in. And why hadn’t Remus ever told him the truth? Why hadn’t he ever let Sirius see what was truly going on in his mind?

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Sirius demanded, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Why lie about Grant? Why pretend like everything was fine, when you know it wasn’t?”

Remus’s eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, Sirius could see the familiar spark of frustration—a flash of something that always seemed to be buried under the surface with him. Remus took a sharp step forward, closing the space between them, his voice rising.

“I didn’t lie!” Remus snapped. “You don’t understand, Sirius. You never will.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, the frustration twisting into something deeper now. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something in Remus’s tone—something in the way he was pulling away—made it feel like Remus wasn’t just upset about Grant anymore. There was something else there. Something Sirius wasn’t seeing, but could feel all the same.

“You think I don’t understand?” Sirius shot back, his voice rising in turn. “You think I don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re the only one who can see yourself for what you really are? You’re not the only one with secrets, Remus.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and as soon as they left, he regretted them. He knew what he was getting at. He knew what he was trying to say—but it didn’t feel right anymore. Not when Remus’s face had gone pale, his eyes darting to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet Sirius’s gaze.

“You think I’m just going to let you shut me out like everyone else did?” Sirius continued, stepping forward again, his voice thick with emotion now. “Like he did?”

Remus flinched, his breath hitching in his chest. “Don’t bring him up, Sirius,” he said, the words heavy with an edge of warning. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“Oh, I know,” Sirius retorted, his heart pounding in his chest. “I know enough to see how you’ve pushed me away, how you’ve built this wall around yourself and let everyone else in. But not me. Not us, Remus. You won’t let me in, and you won’t let anyone in. And I don’t know why. But I’m not just going to stand here and watch you shut me out.”

Remus was trembling now, his eyes flicking up to meet Sirius’s for just a brief moment. There was a fire in his gaze—raw, vulnerable, and burning with something Sirius couldn’t place. He felt a sharp, almost painful pang in his chest as he saw it. But before he could speak again, Remus was shaking his head, his voice barely above a whisper.

The tension between them crackled, thick and suffocating, as they stood inches apart, breaths sharp and uneven. Sirius’s chest was tight, his fists clenched at his sides, the anger that had bubbled up earlier mixing with something else—a heat, a desire he couldn’t shake. Remus’s eyes flickered with the same volatile mix, but there was something else beneath it, something more fragile, hidden behind the mask he always wore.

Sirius’s voice was rough as he spat, “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you? You let me believe I wasn’t enough for you. Let me believe you didn’t want me—”

Remus’s face tightened, his mouth set in a hard line as he snapped, “You don’t get it, Sirius! I wasn’t lying—I was trying to protect you. You don’t know what it’s like to carry this... this burden—I can’t—”

“I can handle it,” Sirius interrupted sharply, his words coming out more forceful than he intended, his body suddenly brimming with a mix of anger and something that felt much more intense. “I’m not some fucking fragile idiot, Remus! I can take it—just let me in for once!”

The words hit Remus like a blow. His breath stuttered as the mask slipped, just for a second, and Sirius saw it—a flicker of vulnerability, of rawness, that tore through everything. Remus moved forward, his hands grabbing Sirius’s shirt, his grip tight and demanding, dragging him in. “I’m not asking you to handle it. I’m asking you to stay with me—”

And before either of them knew it, the distance between them was gone, the heat between them more intense than any argument, any fight. The kiss that came next wasn’t soft or sweet. It was hungry, reckless, driven by the need to feel, to connect, to tear down the walls they’d built up around themselves. The frustration, the longing, everything exploded in that single kiss, every part of them screaming to give in. They couldn’t stop, not anymore. Not after everything that had been said, not after everything they both wanted so badly but had been too scared to admit.

Sirius’s hand gripped the back of Remus’s neck, his other hand sliding down to his waist, pulling him in closer, as if the kiss wasn’t enough, as if being this close wasn’t enough. Remus responded in kind, his hands tugging at Sirius’s shirt again, the desperation evident in every motion, every kiss. They kissed like it was the last time they would ever get to touch, to taste, to be this close.

The kiss came like a force of nature, desperate and messy, like the world around them had vanished. His lips crashed against Remus’s with an urgency that startled both of them. Sirius’s hands were frantic, pulling at Remus’s shirt, trying to get closer, like the space between them was something he couldn’t bear anymore.

But as he pulled back for a breath, Remus didn’t let him. Before Sirius could even think to speak, Remus’s hands were on his chest, pushing him back, but not to create distance. No, it was to pull him closer. Remus's lips were on him again, this time more urgent, more desperate. It was like they both knew there was no going back, that everything had already been said without being uttered.

Sirius felt Remus’s hands dig into the back of his neck, the grip tight and possessive, like Remus needed him to stay. Remus’s breath was hot and uneven against Sirius’s lips, and as their mouths moved against each other, the kiss became something frantic, like they were trying to take something from each other, something they couldn’t afford to lose.

Remus pushed Sirius against the wall, his body pressing hard against his, the force of it almost making Sirius stumble. The desperation in Remus’s movements—how he was tugging at Sirius’s clothes, how his lips were demanding more—was a fire that sparked something raw inside of Sirius, something that made him lose control of the calm, collected person he usually was.

Sirius’s hands roamed, finding the curve of Remus’s back, pulling him even closer, as if that was possible. Remus’s lips were searing hot against his, moving with a kind of frantic energy that matched the way his heart was pounding in his chest. When they finally broke apart for a breath, Sirius’s body was on fire. His hands were shaking, and his chest was heaving with the effort it took to breathe, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling Remus back into him.

Remus’s lips found his again in a bruising kiss, needy, messy, like they couldn’t stop. Like they were trying to erase everything that had come before and start fresh, but the desperation was overwhelming. Sirius responded with the same intensity, every kiss more frantic, more eager than the last.

It was too much. Too fast. And yet, neither of them could stop. They didn’t want to.

Sirius’s hand slid to the back of Remus’s neck, his fingers digging in just enough to hold him in place, but it was Remus who moved first, his lips trailing down to Sirius’s jaw, his teeth grazing his skin, and it sent a shock through Sirius’s whole body. The heat in his veins was almost unbearable, and it only took a second for his control to snap. He spun Remus, pushing him back against the bedpost, pressing himself up against him with a force that startled them both.

"Fuck," Remus muttered, gasping for air, but Sirius didn’t give him time to think. Their lips collided again, harder this time, like they were fighting for control, each trying to claim the other, desperate and hungry for more. Remus responded just as fiercely, his hands grasping at Sirius’s shirt, tugging it over his head with a growl.

The desperation grew, each kiss more heated than the last, both of them clawing at each other as if they couldn’t get close enough. Sirius’s heart was pounding in his ears, his body completely consumed by the need to have Remus, to hold him in this moment, like it was the only thing that mattered. Every movement felt like it was pulling them deeper into something they couldn’t understand but couldn’t resist either.

Remus’s hands roamed to Sirius’s chest, his fingers splayed against the skin, as though memorizing every inch of him. The touch was almost too much, but Sirius was lost in it, in the heat and the rush of it all. He pulled Remus closer, kissing him with a force that was wild, reckless, not caring about anything else but the raw need that consumed them both.

When they finally pulled away again, both of them gasping for breath, the room seemed to spin around them, and yet, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to pull back. They were too tangled, too close, and he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

“You… you’re sure about this?” Remus’s voice was rough, almost a whisper, as he looked up at Sirius, searching his face.

Sirius’s chest was still heaving, his pulse still racing from the intensity of it all, but when he met Remus’s gaze, all the frustration, all the confusion, faded away. There was nothing left but the answer, clear and undeniable.

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “More than anything, I’m sure.”

And that was the truth. For all the chaos, all the tension between them, this—this—felt right.