The world has gone crazy, not that anything else is new. It just keeps finding new ways to prove the point. Spells are flying from all directions, hitting buildings, trees….some find their target and a grunt or a scream will rip through the air. It’s worse when there’s a thud followed by silence. Remus can barely see for all the dust and dirt and smoke. They’re outnumbered and they know it, not that means they’ll give up because of it. He can’t find Padfoot anywhere, hasn’t seen him since they got separated over an hour ago. He can’t breathe with his heart lodged in his throat.
“Arthur!” he yells, grabbing the redheads arm in an iron grip. “Have you seen Sirius?”
Arthur pulls them both down behind a half collapsed wall, away from someone’s flug spell that hits a tree and explodes in angry purple flames. There’s no time to talk while they throw hexes and jinxes back and forth with Death Eaters determined to kill them.
Eventually they hear the distinctive pops of multiple people Apparating away, and they can take a breath.
“Have you seen Sirius?” Remus asks again.
“Not for a while, no,” Arthur shakes his head. “He got hit with some kind of slicing spell. Molly dragged him back to try and stop the bleeding.”
Remus’ eyes flash gold before he throws himself from the wall and bolts in the direction Arthur pointed.
Blood. He can smell blood. And sweat, clove tobacco, lilac….but it’s all an undertone to the blood that’s leaving a coppery taste on the back of his tongue.
He’s slumped against the crumbling remains of a wall when Remus finds him, left arm holding his side, right hand gripping his wand.
“Padfoot,” Remus breathes, feeling something in his chest tighten.
“Moony,” Sirius tries to grin, but it turns into a grimace when Molly taps her wand against his ribs. “Molly’s just finishing patching up a few scratches for me.”
“Scratches my entire backside!” Molly huffs. “I really wish you’d be serious for once!”
“I’m always Sirius,” he quips.
Before either of them can say anything else Remus has grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Sirius stiffens, surprise for exactly as long as it takes him to blink. Then he’s crawling into Remus’ lap and kissing him back, fingers tangling themselves in sandy blonde hair.
“Oh, now you two figure this out?” Molly tries not to smile, getting up and dusting off her skirt. “Take him home, Remus, and give him a Blood Replenishing Potion. He shouldn’t be out fighting anymore tonight.”
“Thank you Molly,” Remus says, Apparating them away before she can say anything else.
Sirius laughs when they land with a soft thump on a soft mattress.
“Where did you bring us?” he asks, not recognizing the large, crimson quilt on the bed.
“Ty'r Lleuad,” Remus says, flipping them so Sirius is pressed into the mattress under him. “Home. I thought…. I thought I lost you, Padfoot.”
“Not that easy to get rid of,” Sirius grins up at him, fingers still buried in sandy blond curls. Without hesitating, he tilts his head to the left and lifts his chin, exposing his throat to Remus.
He knows Sirius knows exactly what doing that means. Knows there’s no point asking if he’s sure. Sirius is always sure of everything he does, even the stupid shit. The only question is, is Remus sure?
They’re both filthy, covered in dirt and brick dust and blood and…. And what?
They’re alive, and here, and Sirius didn’t punch him in the face for kissing him. No, instead he’d kissed him back. Now he’s laying under him, long legs framing Remus’ hips; ridiculously long, pitch black hair, usually soft and shining, is tangled and dirty, fanned out under him like wings.
Remus groans low in his throat. There’s no question, and there hasn’t been one since sixth year. Slowly, carefully, he sets his teeth on either side of Sirius’ throat, biting down just enough for his canines to press into the delicate flesh before he pulls away.
Sirius whines when Remus starts untangling himself to get up.
“Potion first, then kissing,” Remus tells him, stroking his thumb across his cheek. He thinks for a moment. “Well, potion first, then maybe a bath, then kissing.”
Sirius crawls further up the bed while Remus is gone, curling on his side with his head on a pillow. His body feels heavy and sore and tired now that he’s not high on adrenaline. Like he’s been hit with one too many Bludgers. He doesn’t even notice when he drifts off. Then Remus is shaking him, trying to wake him up.
“Lemme ‘lone, Moony,” he slurs weakly. “‘m tired.”
“Come on,” Remus says gently, pulling him upright and holding him against his chest. “Potion first, then sleep.”
Sirius leans back into him, sighing. Remus is always so warm. It’s an effort to pry his eyes open even to squint. Even if he could lift his hand, it would shake too much to hold a potion vial right now. “Gonna….need….help,” he grits out slowly. He drinks obediently when a vial is pressed to his lips, makes a face at the chalky, coppery taste of a Blood Replenishing Potion. He’s grateful when Remus wraps him up in his arms, chasing the chill from his skin when they wait for the potion to do its job.
“Think you could handle some water?” Remus asks after a bit.
“Rather whiskey,” he mumbles.
“Pumpkin juice is the strongest thing you’ll be getting tonight, and you’d be lucky if you kept that down.”
“Fine, juice then.”
He’s glad to get the potion taste out of his mouth, and starts feeling less like a half dead slug as the blood he lost tonight is replaced. He’s still too cold, even though there’s a conjured fire in the fireplace.
“Cold, ” he mumbles, curling into the werewolfs chest.
He’s only slightly surprised when Remus gets up with him in his arms so he can pull back the quilt.
“C’mon,” Remus says softly, laying him back on the bed. “Let’s get you undressed before you whinge about that next.”
Sirius just lifts his hips for Remus to pull his denims off. A near-silent sigh escapes him when they’re replaced by soft flannel pajama pants. He pulls his ruined t-shirt over his head while Remus is changing, tossing it on the floor to deal with tomorrow.
“Mere,” he slurs, reaching out for his best friend as soon as he’s done.
He doesn’t see it, but Sirius knows Remus rolled his eyes before crawling into bed and pulling the quilt over them both. Sirius immediately plasters himself against Remus’ chest, twining their legs together.
“Merlin, Padfoot!” Remus chuckles.
“S’ warm,” he says, nuzzling his face against Remus’ t-shirt clad chest.
They don’t talk after that. Remus holds Sirius close, at first rubbing circles into his bare back, then tracing lazy patterns against his skin, letting him leech all the warmth he needs. Sirius snuggles in, dozing in and out until he’s barely grasping at threads of consciousness.
“My Remmy,” he breaths as he’s finally drifting off into real sleep.
“My Siri,” Remus whispers against dirty black hair. He lays awake long after Sirius is asleep, listening to the gentle flow of his breaths and watching the fire burn low.