Cottage

If you somehow happen to drive by over the old main road that leads into town, you might notice a little path trailing off from it and straight into the woods.

If you were to then decide to follow that path, by car or by foot, you probably wouldn't get very far.

But if, through some strange circumstance, some form of divine guidance, you were to exit this path right behind the willow with the dead branches, follow the river for half an eternity, cross it and fight yourself over the rocky mountain pass; then you would find yourself right at the edge of the valley that Remus John Lupin has chosen for himself.

And that, is exactly where I'm going to be taking you.

To a valley of golden leaves and heavy trees, full of orange sunsets and full moons, to a cottage in the middle of nowhere. To a home.

~~~

Remus isn't a risk taker. Not with things like this. Not when it comes to protecting others.

When he came here, almost five years ago, seventeen and stupid he'd thought he was safe now. That he could just let the wolf roam and run, hunt and not worry about harming anyone but himself. But then, not two months later, he'd run into a camper.

A very excited one at that. She had a tent and boots and a backpack and everything. (She also had pepperspray and was absolutely not afraid to use it on strange men in the woods.) It was pure luck that he'd found her right before the full moon.

Ever since then, Remus doesn't take chances anymore. He casts spells and shields and warnings every time before his transformation. He scans the area, locks it, protects it. Protects them.

It's miles and miles into each direction to the next village. A few less to the next road. There is no, absolutely no chance of anyone coming out here.

But then why, oh why is there blood on the stone right in front of him.

He thought it was animal blood at first. He hates it; that he kills animals, but sometimes it happens. The wolf never eats them. Just rips them to shreds before turning back against his own body. If he can, Remus always tracks them down, buries their remains, says he's sorry.

Today however it isn't just blood. There is a piece of fabric. Stuck on the branches of a tree, dripping in crimson. Not to mention that Remus can smell it's human blood from a mile away. 

For a few moments he just stares. Then he stumbles forward, following the trail of blood, dodging bushes and branches and ...

There. A few meters ahead lays a body. Pale limbs, black hair. With blood everywhere.

"No, no, no, please no," he mutters under his breath as he hurries forward, kneels down.

The stranger is laying on his front, his face turned away from Remus and his left arm up over his head in a grotesque position.

A sob escapes Remus but he still takes the guys shoulders, pulls him gently.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

When he turns him he cries even harder. He's young, probably younger than Remus himself.

He's gripping the guy's shoulders his ice cold hands digging into his warm skin-

Warm skin.

Remus lets go. Watches as the white marks his fingers have left, disappear. As they fill in with colour. With blood.

His hand shakes as he brings it to the man's throat, holds still, barely breathes. There. A pulse.

It takes everything in Remus not to start crying again.

~~~

Sirius's brain aches. He didn't even know it could do that, but it does.

There is a pounding in his ears and when he tries to move slightly he can feel new bandages.

Regulus must've put them on him after Walburga- Wait.

There is no Walburga to wound him anymore. No Regulus to patch him up. He had run. Packed up and left, so what ... He opens his eyes.

Pain shoots through every fibre of his body but he's already up. A loud cluttering sound comes from his left and as he whirls around he's stunned for a moment.

He's in a living room, has just sprung up from a red couch and everything is wood. Just .. everything. The floor, the ceiling, the cabinets, the-

There's a man. Sirius moves back quickly. It's unnecessary. There's a couch, a counter and several meters distance between them, but this is wrong. Very, very wrong.

Panic surges through him. He's hurt. He can't fight. He's apparently in a strangers house. Sirius doesn't have a lot of experience with the world. But this can't be good.

"Hey," the guy says. It's tentative, quiet.

"I'm really sorry you had to wake up like this. Are you in pain?"

He's moving out of the kitchen, slowly, deliberately. He's trying to be non-threatening Sirius understands.

To bad Sirius grew up in a house of snakes; he's used to not seeing a threat before it tries to kill him.

Slowly he backs up even more. "Listen," the guy says, "I know you're scared but you should probably lay back down."

More alarms start ringing in Sirius' head and his eyes dart to the door, right behind the sandy haired mans back.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," he says and if Sirius weren't in so much panic he could have heard the desperation in his voice. Then his gaze follows Sirius's.

"I'm not-" he moves, away from the door. Out of the way. "I'm not trying to keep you here or anything, you can leave, the door isn't locked but-"

Sirius sprints. There is a probability that the guy is lying. A pretty high one even.

Turns out, he isn't and Sirius almost rips out the door, flies outside, stumbles, catches himself. Every single muscle in his body aches. But he's used to it. To open cuts and days of starvation and strained muscles.

He's used to it, but he still doesn't get very far. More crawling than running he makes it to the tree line, where he keeps going further and further, clinging to trees, wheezing his breaths.

When his body gives out he knows he can't have gotten very far. But as far as he can tell, the guy didn't follow him. Panting he sinks to the floor, rolls onto his back.

These woods are glorious. He glances through the red and golden leaves up at a clear blue sky. Feels the ones already fallen beneath his back.

For a long while Sirius lays there, trying to stay as still as humanly possible to try and ease the pain.

He's going to die here, he understands suddenly. His wounds aren't fatal. One of the gashes on his abdomen has opened back up and there is a trickle of blood on his neck, but he's survived worse. Way worse.

But, they're enough to slow him down. Immobilise him. He doesn't have his wand, must have lost it at some point. He has no idea where he is. He has no means of getting food or water or help.

As he stares up at the canopy in front of him he can't help but think this might be a nice way to go.

He'd planned on seeing the world. On getting Reggie out. On falling in love. Finding a home. Being free.

But, this'll do. It'll have to.

He hears the calls first. From pretty far and somehow muffled. As if someone is simultaneously trying to call out and doesn't want to disturb the quiet peace of the woods. It would be funny and possibly a little adorable if Sirius wasn't pretty sure that voice was calling out for him.

Ducking into the undergrowth he winces in pain. There are footsteps now, and a familiar voice.

"Hello? Please come out. You're ... probably bleeding."

The fucking cottage guy. He's pretty close, Sirius can tell. But he doesn't know Sirius is here. He can't.

"I know I'm a stranger to you, but I really want to help," he hears and then cranes his neck a little, peeking out from the bushes he's hidden under.

"So, well, in order to not be a stranger anymore: I'm Remus."

The guy, 'Remus', is standing with his back to Sirius, just a few meters away and is seemingly talking to the trees.

A defeated sigh leaves the man and his shoulders slump.

"Listen, if I don't know where you are then I can't help you. And that means that there is a bleeding man with no food or shelter running around. I'm going to have to call the authorities for help. Or," he gives a little shrug, still speaking to nothing but the forest, "or you could just let me help, rest a little and be on your way."

For a moment he waits, listens. Then he turns back, starts walking before calling over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go home and make some waffles now."

Now, Sirius is a law abiding citizen. But right now the idea of the muggle police looking for him doesn't sound like one he's too fond of. And despite his earlier resolution, he isn't quite fond of the idea of dying either.

Waffles on the other hand... Sirius is up and moving in a heartbeat. He sticks to the bushes, the trees. Follows as silently as possible.

It isn't too difficult. The guy is rather loud, dragging his feet and whistling.

Here's the thing; Sirius is kind of bad at words. They're difficult and complicated and no one ever says what they actually mean.

Well, James does. Because he knows Sirius won't understand otherwise and he's the best fucking friend on this planet, but other people ... Not so much.

Body language on the other hand, oh Sirius can do body language. One of the few perks of growing up looking over your shoulder for when the next whipping should ensue: You get really really great at reading a room.

And because of that he can tell that the guy, Remus, knows he's there. It's in the way he tenses his neck sometimes, when Sirius comes a little too close, how he cocks his head slightly, catching even the slightest rustling.

He never turns around though. Only continues to saunter through the woods, a bit too casually.

It doesn't take long to get back to the little hut. It rests atop of a gentle hill, and Remus walks it up and into the house. Leaving the entrance door wide open.

Sirius creeps closer, fully aware of how unnecessary it is. After a minute there is clatter in the house. Metal and porcelain.

He could still turn around. And then ... what? Go back to laying down in the forest? Try and make it back over the mountain he came down yesterday, limping and starving? 

When he steps through the door Remus cocks his head slightly but again doesn't turn around.

"You can sit at the table if you want," he says and Sirius peeks at the wooden table in a corner behind the sofa. It's a bit of a tight space. Open and light, because of the huge windows that enclose it, but tight. Caged.

Still he walks over, but he pulls out one of the chairs towards the living room area. That way he can still escape along the couch if Remus comes at him from the front.

Which, to be honest, doesn't seem very likely right now. The guy is still bustling in the kitchen, fully in Sirius' view. He's loud. He's being loud, Sirius thinks.

To let him know where he is? To intimidate him? He can't be sure.

The door is still wide open and now that he's not trying to flee anymore, Sirius watches this Remus.

He's taller than Sirius but not by much. A little broader too, which isn't difficult, but unlike in Sirius's case there are definitely muscles under that huge jumper.

It's a little difficult to judge his age. He looks young, but there are scars across his face that make it hard to tell and he moves like someone who is in pain and used to it.

There is one tiny detail that Sirius' brain snags on a little. This Remus guy is very handsome. He has soft looking hair and dark brown eyes, but it's more the bigger picture that gets Sirius.

The way he moves, calm and reassuring. The way his big hands grab a plate, coming closer and closer and ... oh shit.

He's walking towards him and Sirius is ready to bolt again. But Remus notices (not that it was very subtle) and beelines in a sort of half circle towards the table, leaving space between Sirius and himself.

There he puts down a plate full of something that smells sweeter than anything Sirius has ever had in his life and walks to the opposite side.

Putting down his own plate he sits down. His back is to the window now. Sirius could run into multiple directions if he decided to launch at him.

Carefully he scoots his chair back to the table, eyeing the food on the plate and hears a snort from across the table.

"It's not poisoned," Remus says, and when Sirius continues to stare at the waffles in distrust the other man sighs, reaches over and stuffs a chunk of Sirius's food into his own mouth.

The sudden movement made Sirius flinch but Remus doesn't comment on it. Instead he points at he food again.

"Eat," and then he adds a soft, "please." And so Sirius does.

At the first bite he groans, his toes curl from how unbelievable sweet it is. He'd be surprised if there is any ingredient other than sugar in those waffles and they are absolutely drenched in syrup. It's heaven.

"Oh my god," he moans around a mouthful, "this is the best thing I've ever had."

And then his head snaps up because from across the table there is a lovely noise. Remus is laughing and it sounds ... nice. So nice.

His voice is a little rough, like he doesn't use it very often, but his laugh is light. Delighted. Elating.

Sirius feels a smile spread on his own face.

"So he does speak," Remus says, his eyes glinting. "I was getting a little worried there. I only know a little bit of sign language," his last sentence is underlined with a quick sequence of hand gestures.

"Uh yeah no, I speak. I was just ... You know, a little shocked."

"Oh," the word sounds soft from Remus' mouth and something complicated flickers over his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I know that this," he gestures to his face, "can be a little frightening."

Sirius is a bit confused. But then he pulls his shoulders in a shrug, let the guy be confident if he wants to be. He is handsome. In a rugged, wood chopper kind of way.

"Nah, you're good. I'm not frightened by pretty people. Runs in the family y'know? All the inbreeding and stuff."

Merlin these waffles are delicious. He blames it on them when he doesn't notice the clatter of Remus's cutlery coming to a halt.

"There is no need to be cruel," Remus voice isn't sharp. It's scratchy and suddenly he's up and Sirius jumps but the man is already walking away, towards the kitchen.

Sirius's mind whirls, goes into overdrive. He's dumb with words. He knows that. Of course he knows. But .. he can't really identify it. What has he done wrong?

Without much thought he hurries after Remus. "Wait! Wait, I'm sorry, I don't know ... I didn't mean to offend you ..."

Remus turns back to him and because the guy is tall and very much still a stranger, Sirius stops a good bit away.

"I'm bad at words. Very bad. And sometimes I say words I don't really even know what they mean. And then someone gets mad. But I didn't even want that. And now you're mad and I'm very sorry, and-"

"Hey, it's okay," Remus says as he takes him in with a sweep of his eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's alright."

Hearing those words Sirius deflates. This really shouldn't feel as important as it does.

He glances back up at Remus, who seems to be contemplating something, his plate in his hand, his feet in these massive wollen socks.

"I'm Sirius by the way. Sirius Black."

That earns him a smile. "Hi Sirius, I'm Remus. Remus Lupin."

They look at each other for a while. 

"So, you wanna go back to eating?"

You don't have to ask Sirius that twice. He takes two more servings at the end, and apparently they've decided that talking isn't really for them.

And so they sit and eat and smile when they catch each other's eye. It's a little awkward, but there is a whisper in Sirius' heart that he can't yet hear, but it sounds strangely like 'home'.

~~~

Remus has decided to just ignore the stranger in his house for the time being. He won't be staying longer than a few days anyway, no need to get accustomed too much.

If there is anything that Remus Lupin hasn't yet learned it's that successfully ignoring Sirius Black is about as likely as his werewolf self going to a tea party; it goes against any and all laws of the universe.

He invited Sirius to get some sleep on the couch. Fist he offered his bed but Sirius wouldn't hear of it and Remus understands that.

Sirius is so jumpy and even though he really is used to people having bad reactions to his scars, he's starting to believe that this actually has little to do with them.

Still, he can't be sure if that is the reason why this guy just does not want to go to sleep, for the absolute life of him.

Remus offered to leave the house first. Give him some peace and quiet, let him rest properly but Sirius immediately declined that. Rapidly shaking his head, kind of like a dog, black hair flying everywhere.

He'd then asked if it would be alright for Sirius if he worked somewhere else quietly and Sirius had said somewhat desperately; "can't you just stay here? In the room I mean. Just ... just for now," and Remus had agreed.

He wasn't sure if Sirius didn't want to be alone, or if he was trying to keep an eye on him.

Nevertheless he had started trying to fix the little dent in the wall right behind the entrance door. Something he'd been putting off for weeks since he'd banged it open a little too enthusiastically.

And ever since he started he's pretty damn sure that Sirius hasn't closed his eyes even once.

True, he had pretended to close his eyes when he was still laying on the little armchair that's standing straight ahead, but Remus was very acutely aware of being watched the entire time.

Then Sirius had vacated onto the more spacious couch, it's back obscuring him from view. First he could be heard bustling with a blanket, then he was tossing and turning, and now it sounds like he's rattling something in his hand. Remus has no idea what the hell that guy is doing. Taking his house apart for all he knows.

Sighing he straightens up.

"Sooo I take it you're not really getting any sleep then?"

Suddenly everything is very quiet. Remus makes sure to make some noise as he steps closer and peeks over the back of the sofa. Sirius looks at him, keeping his body very still and the only thing Remus can think of is doing what he always does when he's restless.

"Wanna go look after the sheep with me?"

And so he leads a basically bouncing Sirius to the back of the house. There are still a few late born babes. Not exactly lambs anymore, but tiny enough to be absolutely fucking adorable.

He steps inside, Sirius standing by the gate and picks one up very gently. When he turns around there is an expression of pure awe on Sirius's face.

"You wanna hold her?"

"Yes," Sirius breathes, "yes please."

Remus hands over the (not so little) lamb and then gets to work. Mucking out and getting some fresh hay from the shed. And all the while, Sirius just stands there. He's put his hands under her legs and the little thing is dozing in his arms. He looks ... Serene.

And a little like he might cry.

"Do you eat them?" he asks after while and Remus smiles. Sirius is scared of the answer, he can tell.

"No, I don't. I couldn't hurt them."

When they go back into the house, something seems to have shifted. The nervous energy that used to pool from Sirius before has quieted down a bit and he curls up on the couch immediately. After a few minutes his breathing evens out and Remus can't help but feel a little proud.

He works quietly around the house. Fixes the wall. Cleans the cupboards. Waters his already drowning plants.

Evening comes and Remus throws together a  soup, while contemplating whether to wake Sirius or not. In the end he doesn't have to decide because Sirius wakes up, mumbles something about the delicious smell, inhales a bucket of soup, and falls right back asleep.

Remus lets him. He has a feeling that that guy hasn't had any real sleep in a while. Yet, the next morning, when he stumbles out of his bedroom the couch is empty and ... Blood.

He smells it before he sees it, but there is definitely a little bit of blood on the floor.

A dull thud and a curse make him spin around and Remus stares at the bathroom door.

"Umm, Sirius?" he raps his knuckles against it gently. "Are you alright?"

Silence.

He's just about to ask again when Sirius' voice drifts out, "yes, yeah. I'm fine. Sorry."

"No, no. That's fine, you can use the bathroom. You can even shower if you want but ... There's some blood out here ..."

"Oh yeah," Sirius' voice is tiny, but close, as if he's standing right behind the door. "The bandage fell off, I'm sorry."

Remus frowns. "That's okay. It's not your fault ... But um, do you maybe want me to help? Wrap you back up?"

He's met with silence once more.

"That's alright too. There are more bandages in the wooden cabinet. I'll make us some breakfast, feel free to-"

The door swings open. Sirius is still half behind it, as if he's hiding.

"Can I come inside?"

Sirius nods but Remus can see the hesitation in his eyes.

Following a gut feeling he steps through the door and says, "it's really alright Sirius. You didn't do anything wrong."

Sirius has his shoulders squared and his chest puffed out. At Remus' words he softens a little.

To prove his point Remus steps to the wooden cabinet and begins taking ointments and bandages out. With his chin he points to the bathtub, "let me patch you back up."

When he's gathered everything he turns and finds Sirius looking small and a little lost on the edge of the tub. He's tugging up the leg of his trousers.

"I made a bit of a mess of it," he says and Remus snorts. That's one way of putting it.

For some reason, Sirius has taken what appears to be at least three different bandages and wrapped them all over his leg. Tying them together in several places and layering them multiple times in others.

"Can I?" Remus asks and when Sirius nods, albeit a bit stiffly, he kneels down and tugs at the loop right above Sirius' knee.

"So where do you come from Sirius?" he tries to keep his tone light, casual.

"Um, I come from- from the north. Yeah, from the north."

"The north ..." Remus hums, slowly working himself through the layers. "And did you like the north Sirius?"

"No," Sirius says, fidgeting with a piece of bandage he just picked up, "my family's there. And I didn't like that."

"Mh. I get that," Remus looks up at him, "family can be though."

Sirius nods. He's still tense, on edge, but the talking seems to help. So Remus continues.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen," he pauses a moment, "how old are you?"

"I'm twentytwo."

"Oh," Sirius says softly and Remus keeps his eyes firmly on his task. He knows he doesn't look like it. Knows that the scars and the working in the sun and probably the loneliness make him look like a much older man.

Usually he doesn't let that bother him, but it is especially difficult to be so aware of it in this moment, because Sirius is pretty. Like really downright gorgeous.

Remus doesn't allow himself to get visibly self-conscious, not right now.

He clears his throat as the last layer comes off. There is an array of wounds, both fresh and older on Sirius' skin. Cuts and marks and gashes. He's seen them before, briefly, when he bandaged Sirius while he was unconscious. But his focus was on stopping the bleeding back then.

"You know I could heal them for you," he offers.

"Really? I uh, I don't... I kind of lost-" Sirius' eyes widen. "You're a wizard?!" he cries out and Remus can't help but laugh.

"But ... how did you? I mean Remus! I could've been a muggle for all you knew!"

Remus' eyebrows rise. "Really, with that hair?"

At that Sirius looks absolutely scandalised.

"My hair? I will have you know that my hair is my pride and joy. It's magnificent and fabulous and- and- and shiny-"

"Well I never said it wasn't."

Sirius grumbles.

"I just meant that a muggle man probably wouldn't wear it that long." And I can basically hear the magic coursing through your veins, but I can't really mention that.

Sirius nods, seemingly appeased.

"So, you want me to heal you?"

"Oh-" some of the tension seeps back into Sirius, "I'd rather- I mean ... Thanks for offering, but could we just do it the muggle way?"

Remus halts in his search for his wand, "yeah, of course."

"I know it's more difficult and a little weird, I just-"

"Sirius it's fine. I get it," he says gently, grabbing the gauze once more.

Still he doesn't miss the way Sirius' eyes flicker across his scars and he ducks his head quickly.

Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask. And he doesn't, but a bit of an awkward silence falls around them.

"I lost my wand."

That has Remus' eyes snapping up again.

"You lost your wand?" Remus tries to keep from laughing and Sirius grins. "Where and how the hell did you loose your wand?"

Nonchalantly Sirius shrugs his shoulders and then makes a casual, all encompassing hand gesture, "somewhere out there, I guess. You know, in the midst of adventure."

A snort leaves Remus. "Yeah 'course. Lying face down in the mud can certainly be called an adventure."

"It is if you chose to be there."

Remus' eyebrows rise. "And you chose?"

"Well of course." Sirius nods. His hair is very lovely indeed.

"And why on earth would you choose to come into my woods in the middle of the night, bleeding half to death?"

"Your woods huh?"

Remus ducks to hide his flush and Sirius laughs. It's more of a cackle really.

"Well," Sirius starts, watching as Remus finishes the last wrap around his leg, "something called me."

Everything in Remus tenses up. No, it can't be. He swallows.

"Called you?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know, I was-" he pauses, eyes Remus, "I was running away from home. And then something called me into that forest. So I went into the woods and yeah, apparently lost my wand somehow."

Remus is still kneeling on the floor. He has a feeling it helps Sirius, makes him feel more in control. More safe. He tries for a small smile, "you really are the worst wizard I've ever heard of."

"Oh but you have heard of me!"

This time his laugh is real. "Didn't think you'd know the quote."

"What quote?"

They spent the better part of an hour in that bathroom. Every time he asks if there are any other injuries he should look at Sirius first shrugs, then claims he doesn't know and gets very fidgety. If Remus then fixes him with a very stern look he sighs and pulls back another piece of clothing that was hiding a wound or a bruise or a gash or a sprain.

Over lunch he asks Sirius where he was intending on going, if he has anywhere to be. Sirius looks a little lost, drowning in the jumper that Remus lent him and then murmurs something about getting to his best friend. By foot. At night. Alone. He says he's fast if he wants to be.

Remus isn't sure if speed was going to be the problem, but he doesn't say that. He says that Sirius can stay however long he'd like. Until the wounds have closed at least.

They do the same thing the next day. They sleep, they wrap up Sirius, they eat. They take care of the sheep again.

Well, Remus does. Sirius just holds the lamb. 'Étoile' he's called her. When Remus asks, he says it means star. 

They watch Pirates of the Caribbean the next day. Sirius loves Jack Sparrow. Tells Remus the entire time they eat dinner that there probably isn't a better pirate than Jack.

Remus isn't sure if Sirius understands that it's a movie, not really real, but he decides it doesn't matter. So he sits and smiles and basks in Sirius' joy.

That evening Remus takes Sirius out into the woods. Shows him the different leaves and trees. Chases him through the golden brown carpet the fall has brought. And then he shows Sirius his favourite spot. The one where you can look over the dark blue expanse of water that Remus likes to call his lake.

It isn't really. He knows it. It belongs to the birds and the fish, the elements and the creatures of the woods. But then again, isn't he one? He certainly isn't human. People have made sure to let him know that at least.

Sirius sat down leaning against a tree, his elbows resting easily on his drawn up knees. Remus glances at him from where he's still staring out onto the water. He looks calmer here. Less anxious. Still, the dark circles under his eyes are hard to miss. 

"I come here when I get restless. Just kind of look at the lake for hours. Thought it might help you."

Sirius snorts. "Come off it Remus. You? Restless? You're like a St. Bernhard."

"A St. Bernhard? That's ... oddly specific," Remus chuckles and makes his way up the bank towards Sirius, softly kicking a pebble in front of him.

"Well, I've given it some thought," Sirius said, gesturing wildly, grinning up at Remus. "You help some asshat who stumbled into your forest. You only eat foods that have like a million calories. You have that one specific spot on the window sill you like to sit on-"

"It's the only one that gets enough sun!"

"You move like you have all the time in the world. And you're loyal Remus, are you loyal? I bet you're loyal."

"I-" to his own absolute horror, Remus realises he's blushing. "Well maybe. But I'm not all boring. Sometimes I-"

"What?" Sirius jumps to his feet, hands waving wildly. "How, by Merlin, did you get boring from anything I just said? Remus you're-" he looks away, rubs his neck, "St. Bernhards are like my favourite breed."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Sirius glances at him. The tip of his nose shines red from the cold. "They use them as rescue dogs you know. The muggles. Because they're strong and smart and calm. It's ... I like that Remus."

Now Sirius doesn't look away anymore. He's looking right at Remus. His grey eyes are almost twisting into red, the golden light enwrapping them both.

Then Sirius takes a step towards him. It's deliberate. Purposeful. If Remus were to take a deep breath, their chests would be touching. 

Sirius looks like he's glowing. The sun hitting his face, the light leaving sparkles of diamond in his eyes. Remus can't look away from him. And yet. And yet ...

He wonders what Sirius sees. If he's counting the scars on his face? The blemishes on his skin? The madness in his eyes?

He hopes it somehow. Because in his case the outside does reflect the inside. And the outside is jagged and ugly and Sirius Black is wrong. Because Remus isn't a St. Bernard, not really. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing at best. A monster to be hunted at worst.

And so, when Sirius reaches up, if to touch Remus' face, if to hold him, to pull him close or push him away he'll never know. Because when Sirius reaches out his fingertips he takes a step back.

Sirius' face falls into sadness. Crumbles really. All of a sudden it isn't doused in light anymore. Now it catches shadows everywhere. It bends and breaks over harsh lines, sad eyes.

Remus can hear him mumble something, an apology maybe, and then he's walking away.

Remus should call out. He wants to.

He doesn't.

~~~ 

Sirius hunches over the table. He's made himself tea, but it doesn't taste the way it does when Remus makes it. The way it's supposed to.

He doesn't turn when the door opens and closes. Ignores the rustling and the footsteps.

The problem is that Sirius isn't sure. He isn't exactly an expert in these sorts of things but there is something between Remus and him. Something electric and wild. Something gentle and sweet. There has to be, there just has to be. But he still isn't sure.

A hand reaches into his vision and he flinches lightly making Remus wince. "Sorry," he whispers. Then he puts something in front of Sirius.

"What is- That's.. My wand?! That- you-" he grabs for it, immediately feeling its familiar call to the magic in his blood. "Remus how on earth ..."

Remus smiles and shrugs. He looks soft and kind in the evenings light.

"Y'know ... got an eye for these things."

Sirius's gaze travels from the man in front of him back to the object in his hand. "You found a stick. In a forest. A forest."

To Sirius's absolute infuriation Remus just shrugs again mildly and turns, starting to make dinner.

"What- I mean aren't you gonna," he gestures wildly, almost taking out his own eye with the wand. "You should be bragging Lupin!"

That gets a barking laugh out of Remus and he glances at Sirius from under his curls. "Should I now. And how exactly would I be doing that, Black?"

"Well, you'd have to have started with the entrance already of course. Yours was fine, but should have been," he jumps up, stretches his arms out wide, "grand!"

"Grand," Remus repeats bleakly from where he's chopping mushrooms.

"Yes Remus! Grand. And then," he tucks the wand into the inside of his jacket, stalks towards the kitchen and leans over isle, "then there would have been a grand reveal!"

Remus's eyebrows rise. "Grand again huh?"

"Yes. Merlin Remus, keep up! And then, and then! The handover."

"The grand handover?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Handovers are subtle and inconspicuous," Sirius shakes his head, "a 'grand hangover'. You clearly still need a lot of practice in bragging Remi."

The tips of Remus' ears turn a violent shade of red. If at the prodding or the nickname, Sirius isn't sure but he graciously ignores the urge to either point it out or squeeze Remus's cheeks like he's five and continues.

"That's when the real work starts tho. That's when you tell your tale; about how you acquired this magical piece of wood-"

"Don't call it that," Remus says with his face all scrunched up as he drops all the vegetables into a sizzling pan.

"Fine, where you found the wand. And then," he spins on the spot, extends one arm and clutches his heart, "then you start the real bragging. When you retell your tale, again and again. About how you walked with no food or water for seven days-"

"That's not possible."

"How you ripped the wand from the claws of the beast that stole it."

"You lost it Sirius," he tries to be earnest, but there are creases around his eyes, a smile dancing on his face and Sirius keeps going. How could he not?

"How you conquered the sea and climbed the tallest mountains and walked the farthest distance just to bring it back to me."

Remus has his head ducked, trying and failing to hide his smile.

"You're ridiculous."

And Sirius isn't sure, doesn't know. Doesn't know if that burning longing in him is wrong or right, if it's just a trick or his new reality. But it doesn't matter.

Because somehow even if it's nothing, even if he's wrong, this feels warm and safe. Like he imagines a home might.

That night he tucks himself in on the red couch with a newfound determination to sleep. If he can't do it here, where all of these feelings of 'good' are, then he probably won't be able to do it anywhere.

He gives up around three hours later. It's frustrating. Infuriating. But he can't sleep. Not properly. Little wisps of it have been keeping him going over the days, but real sleep evades him.

It isn't that he isn't comfortable. He's warm and fed and safe, but ... It's been years since Sirius ever slept alone.

Back when they were kids, not a day went by when him and Regulus didn't sneak into each other's rooms, held each other close. And at school there was always James.

At Grimmauld place touch was the only language Regulus and he could speak. And so they became fluent. A foot pressed against Sirius' calf in silent support. A hand on a shoulder, there and then gone again, in a heartbeat saying 'you're not alone'.

But Remus doesn't speak that language. Remus is more than careful not to touch Sirius more than necessary when they're changing his bandages. He doesn't linger or caress. And Sirius wants it, needs it. So desperately, so achingly.

He gets up. Just like every night he wanders through the house. Looks at the little wood carvings perched on every available surface. Runs his fingers over the grooves of the wood. Almost startles to death when he sees a figure at the end of the little corridor.

"Sweet Merlin, Remus," he hisses, kind of as if this is his house. Then he lifts the hand he had just been clutching his erratic heart with: "you're taking me to the hospital if you make my heart stop."

He can't really see Remus's face but he's pretty sure there's a smirk on it. "Well it seems to be doing the opposite of stopping right there, so I suppose we're good."

Sirius huffs. Then he reaches for the switch and douses the little corridor into soft light. Remus is leaning with his shoulder against the wall his smirk folding into a frown.

"You can't sleep again?"

Sirius shrugs and casually saunters the small distance towards the man, fingers trailing the rough wall. This might be the sleep deprivision talking but he's slowly but surely coming to the conclusion that any distance at all between Remus and him, is too great.

"It's fine. I'm just not very good at it. At sleeping, I mean. Did I wake you?"

Remus hums. His eyes tracking Sirius' face in a way that almost has him squirming.

"Sorry."

"That's fine. I'm not the best sleeper either. You know, I hear everything."

"You heard me the past nights?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

Remus sighs. "It's alright Sirius I just-" he rubs his arm, looking a little uncomfortable. "I was just wondering if, well, if it's got something to do with me? Because I'd understand really. You're in a cottage in the woods with a strange guy with a load of scars and I- I just, I could give you a key. A room you can lock or something or-"

Sirius grabs his face into both hands and kisses Remus square on the mouth. Maybe it's the Black insanity. Maybe it's the sleepless nights. Maybe it's just the concern in Remus's eyes. But somewhere between a few seconds ago and now, Sirius doesn't need to be sure anymore. After all, when has he ever been.

All he's sure of is that Remus' lips are warm and firm and he's kissing him back. Holding him like he's fragile and precious, pushing against him a little. Sirius lets his thumbs trail over Remus' cheek, over the jagged scar that runs along the smooth expanse of skin. Remus jerks away.

Shaking his head he stumbles back. Out of Sirius's touch and Sirius' hands hang in the air for half a second, left alone in the cold before they drop to his side.

Remus has almost backed away back into his room, "I- no. We can't Sirius, we-"

Sirius tucks his hands under his armpits because they're cold and numb all of a sudden. "I don't understand," he croaks and Remus closes his eyes briefly.

"You don't, of course you don't," he mutters more to himself.

"No," Sirius hates how small his voice sounds, how vulnerable. "Why'd you kiss me back if you-" he lets his hand do a weird gesture between the two of them.

"That's not ... Sirius you need to leave. Not- not now," he adds hurriedly as Sirius's eyes widen.

"Not now but, Sirius you will leave. And I won't. And you'll forget and I never can. So, I'm sorry. I really am," and then he goes back into his room and closes the wooden door between them.

~~~

The silence between them has stretched into days. They still talk about the weather. And the food. And the colour of the kitchen cabinets.

It is as though their mouths are still speaking while their hearts are now quieted, when before sometimes it seemed the other way around.

Remus is reading on the green couch in his study when he sees movement by the door. Sirius is only halfway inside, looking uncertain. Remus closes his book, looks at him attentively.

"Can you- I mean, will you braid my hair?" Sirius asks and Remus blinks.

He doesn't like touching people. Sometime between his own mother avoiding skin contact and his first and only girlfriend yanking her hand away when he reached out, Remus had decided touching wasn't really for him.

But Sirius looks so hopeful. A little smile on his face, a hairband already sitting on his wrist.

He would only need to touch Sirius's hair, and if he played his cards even remotely right Sirius wouldn't be able to see his hands.

"I won't be very good," he warns and scoots back a little, but Sirius beams.

To his surprise and a little to his mortification Sirius doesn't take the space on the couch, and instead bounds over and plops down onto the floor. He's facing away from Remus, scooting right between Remus's legs and then holds up his right hand.

It takes him a good few seconds to understand and then he carefully plucks the hair tie from Sirius's pale fingers.

Clearing his throat he asks; "so um, what, what do you want me to do?"

"Doesn't matter. Just braid them all the way down. They're in the way and Etoile keeps nibbling on them."

Remus takes three thick strands of hair.

"You have to start at the top."

"I am."

"No like all the way at the top. Like the top of my head."

Remus blows out a breath. Then he gingerly runs his fingers though the tangles of black and nearly freezes when Sirius lets out a deep sigh.

"Do it again, please?"

Swallowing around the lump in his throat he lets the tips of his fingers run over Sirius's scalp this time. Sirius can't see his scars like this, but he still knows they're there, he has to.

And yet, as Remus keeps running his fingers through Sirius' hair Sirius seems to become softer and softer under his touch. He can't help but think that Sirius seems anything but disgusted.

They sit like that for a long while and at some point Sirius lets his head fall onto Remus' thigh and Remus huffs a laugh.

"Want me to maybe actually start braiding now?" he asks quietly. "Sirius?"

But Sirius has finally fallen asleep.

He blinks his eyes open a few minutes later when Remus tries to disentangle his hands from the black soft curls.

"Oh sorry, go back to sleep. You can come up here if you want?" he pats the sofa and then a very sleepy, only half coherent Sirius mutters his agreement, beginning to climb onto the couch with a grace of a newborn giraffe.

For the second time that day Remus is more than a little shocked when Sirius doesn't just lay down beside him as he'd intended, but basically crawls into the space under Remus' arm, curling up there and falling promptly back asleep.

He doesn't know why, and he'd be damned before he asked, but he's pretty sure Sirius does that when he feels safe. When he's threatened, Sirius fights. Tooth and nails. He squares his shoulders and juts out his chin, defiant and angry he takes up as much space as possible.

But when he's content, safe, maybe even happy, Sirius is small. Then he pulls his feet under himself or smiles in a very quiet little way or apparently; tucks himself into Remus to get some sleep.

A warm feeling spreads through Remus' chest and he tightens his arm around Sirius.

He forgets the passing time with Sirius snoring softly, his book opened in his lap once more. It's his hightened senses really, that let him know when Sirius isn't asleep anymore a good while later.

He can't see Sirius's eyes, but his breathing has sped up just a tiny fraction, just like his heartbeat. Not enough to suggest he is uncomfortable, just awake, maybe a little nervous. And yet he isn't moving.

It takes a long while before Sirius suddenly starts speaking. "I found the cage in the basement," he says and Remus feels his blood run cold.

For a few moments he sits there with ice in his veins, then he pulls his arm from Sirius and moves away. He's clutching his book tighter than a lifeline and when he looks up, Sirius's eyes are bright and awake. That was why he didn't move: he'd been preparing. For this. What exactly this is, Remus isn't sure yet.

Determination washes over him. He's been through this before. The conclusion, the shock, the hate. He's familiar. He only really hopes this isn't going to be an execution. Because as he looks at Sirius, all shiny curls and bright eyes, he knows that he'd go down without a fight.

"Why do you live out here Remus," Sirius asks but it isn't a question.

Remus should leave. Or throw him out. Or shout. But he can not take his eyes off of Sirius, not in this lifetime.

Suddenly Sirius is sliding closer to him, his eyes darting over Remus' face. "Where are your scars from?"

Remus breathes in sharply. "I think you know," he whispers and Sirius nods slowly.

"You were the something, weren't you? The something that called me here. Your wolf called my animagus."

Finally Remus can turn away and he faces straight ahead, unblinking. "You can leave now. It's- you can go to the authorities if you want. I'm registered though. But if you tell them I've been roaming and not in the cell, they'll put me down."

There is a choked sound but Remus doesn't turn.

"It's fine Sirius, it's- I-," he shakes his head, "just leave okay? I know you want to."

He startles when a hand touches his arm.

"What if I don't."

Remus frowns, still not quite looking at Sirius.

"I know that you do."

"No I-"

"Sirius. I thought you had it, but maybe you gotta hear it. I'm a werewolf. Worse than a mudblood. A dark creature," he says, finally looking at Sirius who mumbles something.

"What?"

"Some dark creature you are."

"What," Remus hisses, because by Merlin what is that even supposed to mean.

"Remus, it's just- I've seen you knit."

Remus stares, mouth slightly opened.

"Well I'm still-"

"A dark creature," Sirius sighs, "yeah I know." Then he carefully closes the distance between them again, pressing into Remus's side with all of his warmth.

When Remus doesn't object he gently puts his hands on Remus' face, one on each side. Today Remus is too tired, too wound up to pull away when Sirius brushes over his scars.

His face is very serious when he speaks again. "Remus. I've seen evil all my life. I know it. I recognise it. You, look nothing like it." He swallows, leans even closer, "I won't leave Remi. Not unless you want me to, unless you ask me to."

"I don't," Remus' voice is hoarse, "I won't. Not ever."

~~~

Sirius does leave eventually. He kisses Remus hard and fast before, and then about a million and one times again.

He goes and visits James (and to his greatest surprise Regulus, but that's a different story). He tells them about a path and a river, a mountain pass and a forest. And then he tells them of a creature of that forest. A calm and gentle man who knits and cooks and reads.

It's only two weeks that he's gone and he comes back with promises from both James and Reggie that they'll visit soon.

It's only been two weeks, but when he gets back he clings to Remus like a monkey and makes him promise to either never let him leave again, or just, please, for the love of Merlin; come with me.

And Remus smiles and nods, and kisses the promises right into his skin.