The chill in the air was familiar, too familiar and far too unnatural, it’d woken him with a start. Cold stone and iron bars – for a moment he'd panicked, and it continued to rise when he caught a glimpse of the dark clad figures stationed around his hold. The taste of bile rising in his throat as he stared from his tormentors to the vast, dark, wooded hills of the surrounding areas.
It would have been beautiful not considering his circumstances and for a moment he’d allowed the thoughts of his future to slip from his mind instead he’s thinking of the past few hours. Having cleared his name to the few people that truly mattered to him, he’d seen Harry, a spitting image of his father, James. Suddenly his mind clouded with the false hope that maybe after this he’d be able to see him again, James, he’d call him an idiot but hug him, nonetheless.
The cold nipped at his gaunt, cracked, tear-stained face dragging him back to this reality. That would not happen, it’ll be as he never existed, no soul, and no happiness– he will be nothing. A distant, sad memory for some or for others, a crazed murderer who’d finally gotten what he deserved.
Quiet footsteps had pulled him from his spiral, squinting against the dim rising sun, a vision standing in front of him. He’d lost it again. Lanky and hunched but, breathtaking, Remus, a cruel hallucination he’d seen many times over. This time it would be his older self he’d see, instead of the lanky, yet slightly more self-assured, younger Remus that would plague him in Azkaban.
Scruffy, slightly out of breath, and littered with fresh gashes and if hadn't it been for the smell of metal as he walked closer, Sirius would have continued with these thoughts. His knees had shaken as he kneeled in front of the small cell, his weaker knee seeming to give out first making him land with a nearly undetectable wince.
Neither spoke, instead grey eyes piercing into watery green as tears fell, two, three, four slipped by and continued, Remus tried to disguise them, looking towards the dementors.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Sirius had said, reaching shaky hands through the bars wiping the few tears from Remus’ face leaving streaks of grim. Tears had begun forming around the corners of his eyes, it could have been his emotions or the fact he was trying not to blink, taking in what are his lost glimpses of his dear friend.
A huffed broken laugh leaves Remus as he’d lean into the palm of his hand, light wrinkles form from his mouth to his nose from that, Wrinkles. They’re old is all Sirius could think of all he wants to think of for once.
“I- I had to see you. I had to apologize-” Remus’ hand had reached to clutch the hand Sirius had been using to hold his face. His voice had cracked during his sentence and something Sirius hadn’t thought he’d had in himself broke.
“Apologize for what? You’ve done nothing, my dear... Friend,” his heart had raced for a moment, and he’d found himself reminiscing on old, stolen memories again. Longing look, unsure touches, and desperation for love in a way he’d thought was unnatural, unbecoming, his parents would have thought for a member of the black family, the heir.
“Damnit Sirius don't be so forgiving right now!” it's a hushed shout, with no real anger, he'd look back to the dementors then to Sirius, “don't lie. It could have been avoided if I'd taken my potion. You’d be free…He’d have been here,” venom fills his voice and his eyes dark at the mention and even thought of him. Peter, slipped right through our fingers, once again.
“I’d rather we talk about something else, my dear,” pausing the sentence there, just to see, to feel as Remus tenses for a moment in his palm. A sad smile forming through scarred and chapped lips. That damned smile that tormented Sirius, but lured him, throughout their years in Hogwarts and further. Even through their darker ages, the distrustful times. “Though we have little time, “the sun rises closer, and he knows the minister would be antsy to have the kiss delivered as soon as possible.
“Then, don't speak just- just listen.'' Remus had looked at him exasperated and unsure of himself, Sirius had seen the look plenty of times throughout their teen years. “I need to tell you- tell you something important.” scooting closer than Sirius had thought possible in their current position, cut off from one another by bars, a cell.
“Sirius, I have…. feelings for you. I have had them since-” he’d avoiding eye contact now, spitting the confession out like it burns him to even say and whatever he’d had to say after Sirius hadn't had heard as his ears seem to ring, his eyes linger on Remus’ lips, continuing his garbled confession that Sirius had tuned out. The tightening of Sirius’ hold on his face seemed to shut the taller man up, ironically his facial expression rivalling a frightened deer, as Sirius roughly tugged him forward towards the cell.
Sealing them in an awkward kiss, greatly blocked by the iron bars, but it's perfection. Scarred and chapped lips connected in a chaste, loving way before pulling apart, followed by gentle and loving words. Soon forgotten by one of the men but living on, a happy moment, corrupted, in the surviving man's memories.