I. Unconditional

The door opened. Remus looked up without much interest. Food, probably. Hunger was one of the few constants of his days. He'd come to cherish the feeling as a relief from the dull numbness that seemed to weight his hands and body down. Hunger and cold and pain. All of them told him that he was still alive.

Instead it was a man. His clothes weren't the ones the gray-faced wardens wore. "Moony?"

Remus frowned. That meant something, he knew Thinking about it would bring them swarming, though. He looked away.

"Oh, fuck. God. Moony." The man dropped down to his knees beside Remus. Remus shoved himself back against the stone wall, trying to get away from the man's hands. If they touched you, it was so much worse. "It's all right," the man said. "It's going to be all right, now. Can you even hear me? Remus?" The man's voice cracked a little, and Remus looked up at him.

"I hate it here," Remus whispered, as close as he dared come to hope.

"Of course you do," the man said. "Come on, now. You lean on my arm, and we'll get out of this hellhole."

Remus hated the walls, and the door, too. He could see the marks his claws had left on it, and the fainter ones from his fingernails. "We can't leave," Remus said. It was easier than he'd expected to talk. Like riding a broomstick, he thought. You don't really forget. Until they come and eat --

"That's it," the man said. "Just lean on me and we'll -- oh, hell --"

The world went black, and stayed that way for a long time.

"You awake this time?" a familiar voice said when Remus woke up. He was in a bed with clean white sheets. Warm air breathed against his face from an open window.

A man sat down on the edge of the bed, and Remus rolled over enough to look up at him. Rumpled dark hair and rumpled dark robes and a cheerful smile that Remus didn't quite believe.

"Sirius?"

"There's a relief. Last time you woke up, I don't think you knew me. But this time you look better."

"I'm hungry," Remus said.

"There's some soup."

"That smells wonderful." It tasted wonderful, too. After he'd eaten, Sirius brought him a steaming mug of tea, and that was wonderful. He felt entirely drunk on the wonderfulness of heat and taste and smell. After a while, though, questions began to work their way through the cracks of his mind.

He held out his empty mug, which Sirius took and set down on the table by the bed. "How long--"

"Don't worry about that now," Sirius said.

"You mean I won't like it," Remus said. "How long was I in Azkaban?"

"It's 1981," Sirius said.

"Oh, my God," Remus said. His hands began to shake. Sirius caught one of them and held it between his own. Sirius's hands were very warm.

"That doesn't matter," Sirius said. "You're safe now. And you're never going back. I'll help you get clean away, to America or ... or Tahiti or somewhere. Somewhere you'll like."

Remus frowned. "Sirius, how ..."

"Shut up, Moony," Sirius said, and kissed him.

Sirius was warm. That was the main thing that felt good, Sirius's warm hands wrapping around the back of his neck and then sliding under the shirt he was wearing. That must be Sirius's, too.

It all mixed together, Sirius's clean shirt on his skin, Sirius's blankets warming him through, Sirius's hands touching him everywhere, so warm. Sirius made little hungry noises in his throat, and Remus touched him, lightly, his hands not finding a rhythm. It didn't seem to be coming back to him properly.

"Maybe not like remembering how to ride a broomstick," he whispered. Sirius pressed his forehead hard against Remus's shoulder, but didn't stop touching him.

Remus didn't expect anything else to happen, and his orgasm took him by surprise, a quick spasm of almost-painful pleasure. He pressed harder against Sirius's hands and made helpless noises. Sirius stroked his hair. After a while Remus just lay still, breathing slowly, curled up in Sirius's arms.

When he woke up again, it was dark. There was moonlight spilling through the window, and he frowned in alarm. It wasn't full yet, though. Sirus was lying sprawled across the bed, his shirt half-off. The moonlight threw strange shadows across his skin.

Remus reached to touch Sirius's warm wrist, and then, something tensing in his chest, slid Sirius's shirt cuff up a few inches. The shadow on his left arm wasn't a shadow. A black skull stained his skin, its mouth gaping to reveal a black serpent.

"Sirius --"

Sirius opened his eyes, and jerked away. "No, don't --"

Remus stared at him.

"You don't know," Sirius said, his voice strange and cracked. "All those years, knowing that Severus was only in the Shack that night because of me. That you were spending your life in that hole because I thought it would be funny --"

"Sirius, what did you do?"

"Nothing that wasn't worth it," Sirius said. "Nothing that wasn't worth it for you."

Sirius poured himself another glass of firewhiskey. Remus thought about telling him he'd had enough, and decided that wasn't being a good host. Especially on Christmas Eve. On the other hand, drinking steadily and relentlessly wasn't his idea of being a good guest, either. Especially on Christmas Eve.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have coffee?"

"Positive," Sirius said. He stared at the Christmas lights Remus had tacked around the window in a probably doomed attempt at making the place look cheerful. "Happy fucking Christmas."

"It's good to see you, too," Remus said.

Sirius had the good grace to look at least a little abashed. "Sorry, Moony. I really am glad to see you. It's just that I can't stop thinking about Harry." He dropped down heavily on the sofa next to Remus.

"Harry is fine. Harry is probably sound asleep by now, dreaming about his Christmas presents."

"If he gets any Christmas presents."

"He's six," Remus said. "His aunt and uncle have a boy his age. They know all about giving Christmas presents."

"I just wish he were getting them from me. I keep seeing things in shops this time of year and thinking how Harry's face would look when he saw them."

"You could mail him something. The Muggle post isn't that hard to figure out."

"I tried," Sirius said. "It came back with 'return to sender' written on it six times in black ink."

"I'm not that surprised. The Dursleys must still be afraid Harry's godfather will turn up at any minute."

Sirius scowled. "Peter wouldn't have the nerve."

"If it was Peter who --"

"You know it was."

"I know James said Peter was his Secret-Keeper. I also know that it would have been like just like James to change his mind at the last minute, pick someone else --"

"Well, if he did, it wasn't either of us."

That was what this was really about, Remus thought. How much Sirius still hurt at knowing James hadn't trusted him enough. But why should he have? Remus thought. He knew you'd trusted me.

"All I'm saying is that you can't blame Vernon Dursley for wanting to keep Harry far away from the wizarding world."

"I can too blame him."

Remus stared into the depths of his glass. "Wouldn't it be simpler to blame me?"

"We've been through all that before," Sirius said. "Only a few hundred times. It is not your fault."

"Yes, it is."

"It was my fault that I didn't change fast enough. I got careless, that's all."

"We were so young. We were so stupid. You couldn't have understood what you were risking, what life as a werewolf was really like --"

"I knew you. Or I thought I did." Sirius rested a hand on Remus's arm. "The one thing I never thought is that you'd turn your back on me --"

Remus pushed Sirius's hand away. "Don't."

"Damn it, Moony." Sirius's fingers gripped his arm tighter. "I'm not interested in watching you wallow in guilt."

"It won't work."

"I'm not asking you to say you still love me. I'm not asking you to promise me a damn thing. I just want you tonight."

"Fine," Remus said. He grasped a handful of Sirius's shirt, jerked Sirius closer to him, and kissed him. "That's what you want?"

"This is what I want," Sirius said, tugging back until Remus was nearly straddling him on the sofa. "And this." He rubbed his hand between Remus's legs.

"And this?" Remus kissed him roughly and pushed him back against the arm of the sofa. He clawed open the fly of Sirius's jeans with his other hand, shoving his hand in and grasping Sirius's cock. "You want this?"

"Fuck, yes." Sirius leaned his head back, eyes half-closed.

"And this?" Remus closed his mouth on Sirius's throat and bit down hard. Sirius made a strangled noise and strained against him. Remus tasted blood.

"Yes, damn it," Sirius said, and Remus knew he was going to come soon. He bit harder, wondering just how much it hurt. Sirius thrust into his hand in a jerky rhythm that Remus knew meant he was about to come. "Yes."

Remus tightened his grip and watched Sirius's face change, hating himself for liking it. "Fine," he growled, and watched Sirius arch up against him for a taut moment and then come messily all over his thigh.

Sirius dropped back against the arm of the sofa and breathed raggedly. A streak of bright red blood was smeared down his neck.

Remus held onto Sirius's shirt, not sure whether he was holding Sirius down or trying to crawl into his arms. "Why do you let me do this?"

Sirius had his fingers pressed hard against Remus's crotch. "Because you can't hurt me any more than you already have."

Remus started to tear away from Sirius, hot with shame, but before he could, he felt himself coming, jerking involuntarily against Sirius's hand. He shuddered and sagged against Sirius instead, curling up half in Sirius's lap. Sirius held onto him, his breath hot on Remus's neck.

"We belong together," Sirius said.

"Not like this," Remus said. He sat up on the sofa and forced himself not to wipe the blood off his mouth.

"You know I still love you."

"And hate me."

"You're the one who hates yourself."

"Yes," Remus said. "With good reason."

"Do you want me to say that you owe me? Then you owe me, Moony. James and Lily are dead, and Harry is living with filthy Muggles, and wherever Peter's hiding, he has more legal right to Harry than I do, and as for how I've been -- well, I don't have to tell you what being a werewolf is like, do I?"

"No. You don't."

"And the only thing you can give me that will make up for it is you."

"Is that the way you really want it?"

"No," Sirius said. "But if that's all I can have, it'll do."

Remus leaned against his shoulder and closed his eyes. "I love you, too," he said, knowing how little it mattered anymore.

Remus stood with his hand on the cool granite of the headstone, looking out through the trees. The leaves had started falling, blanketing the grass with gold and brown. He didn't turn when he heard footsteps crunching through the leaves.

"Hello, Sirius," he said.

"You should be more careful," Sirius said. "What if I were a Dark wizard out to get you?"

"Then you'd have drawn on me from the path, not tramped through the leaves so I could hear you coming," Remus said. "What are you, turning into Alastor now?"

"They say all old Aurors get that way."

"And you're certainly old."

"You're one to talk," Sirius said. He bent down and propped a bunch of daisies haphazardly against the headstone.

"I should have brought something," Remus said.

Sirius shook his head. "There's half a florist's shop here already," he said, staring down at the flowers blanketing Lily's grave. "Always is."

"You remember that she liked daisies, though," Remus said.

"It really doesn't matter, you know," Sirius said, rather gently.

"Maybe it does," Remus said.

Sirius reached into the pocket of his long black coat and took out an envelope. He propped that on top of James's grave, and then as a seeming afterthought weighted it carefully with a rock.

"I never read them," Sirius said. "But sometimes I wonder what he writes."

"How is Harry?"

"Fine. I've got pictures, if you want them."

"He sent me pictures this summer."

"Well, then." There was a noticeable pause. "How are you?"

"All right. Starting to feel old myself, though."

"You're not old, Moony," Sirius said, quietly and fondly.

After a minute Remus put his hand on Sirius's arm. "Perhaps not that old."

"Well," Sirius said, and smiled sideways.

"It'd probably go just as badly as it did before. That's not fair to Harry."

"Harry is eleven and away at Hogwarts. He's not a tot whose heart will be broken if you stay for a while but not forever."

"You might have improved with age."

"I might have," Sirius said. "You've only one way to find out."

Remus stepped a bit closer. Sirius kissed him, unhurriedly. It felt very good, he had to admit. "We should take ourselves somewhere else," he said. "In case it does matter."

"If it does, I think they've seen exactly what they would have wanted to see," Sirius said. "If probably about as much as they would have wanted to see."

"You're just as bad as you were at sixteen," Remus said, looping his arm through Sirius's and following him behind the shelter of a tree.

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks," Sirius said, and vanished with a crooked grin. Remus shook his head and hoped he still remembered how to follow.

Time was passing strangely, and Remus had no idea how long he spent in the inner room of Dumbledore's office, pacing up and down while voices rose and fell outside. After a while the door opened to reveal a very weary-looking Dumbledore.

"This will not be settled tonight," Dumbledore said. "And I believe we will need you able to speak and confirm Sirius's story before it can be." He nodded at the fireplace. "If you feel yourself up to it, I suggest you step through to your own room and stay there until the moon sets."

Remus wanted to point out that the problem was that he couldn't, in fact, speak in wolf form, but he couldn't do that either. He whined in irritation.

"If there were anyone else in this room, I would suggest they do the same," Dumbledore said, and shut the door. There was a rustle of fabric, and Sirius shrugged off the Invisibility Cloak.

"I don't think we need this from here," he said, and stepped up to the fire. "Professor Lupin's room." He grinned at that, rather wildly. "And there's something I never thought I'd hear."

Remus watched his room fade into view behind the flames. Sirius had to crouch to scramble through, one hand resting on Remus's shoulder. Remus forced himself not to flinch away from the touch and to walk steadily into the fire.

They came out in his own rooms, which smelled of his laundry and leftover tea. The goblet he'd nearly forgotten that afternoon stank of Wolfsbane. Severus would probably want the empty goblet back, but he wouldn't dare come looking for it yet.

"Nice place you have here," Sirius said. His hands were shaking. "I think I'll sit down."

Remus lay down in front of Sirius's chair. The Wolfsbane made sleep almost irresistible, but he felt that he should stay awake to guard Sirius. He growled softly.

"Nice wolf," Sirius said. "Don't eat me, Moony, all right? It's only me."

Remus put his head down on Sirius's foot in reassurance, although he had to move it after a minute. Sirius's boots were filthy.

"Right, then," Sirius said. He closed his eyes. Remus was determined not to close his own.

He woke up some indefinite time later, chilled through and aching from head to foot. The fire had gone out. Sirius was still asleep in a chair, although he jerked awake as soon as Remus moved.

"Remus," he said, relaxing slowly. "I -- for a minute I thought I dreamed it all."

"So did I," Remus said. A number of important points came rushing back. He focused on the one that seemed most pressing. "Where are my clothes?"

"In about a hundred pieces," Sirius said. "They were fairly horrible, anyway."

"Well, look at you," Remus said. He sat up with difficulty. "And don't look at me, at least until I'm dressed." He leaned heavily on the chair arm and managed to get to his feet without too much trouble.

"I'll turn my back to preserve your virtue," Sirius said, without actually doing so.

Remus limped over to the wardrobe and shrugged on a dressing gown. He tossed a shirt and trousers to Sirius.

"Those are horrible, too," Sirius said. "Is there a bath?"

"Through there," Remus said, and pointed. "Can you manage?"

"If I drown, I'll blame you," Sirius said. He headed into the bath, somewhat unsteadily.

Remus applied himself to building the fire back up, mainly as a way of staying awake. It had to be near morning if the moon had already set, but in the windowless room it still felt like the middle of the night. After a while, he went and rapped on the door to the bath. "You all right in there?"

"'Course I am," Sirius said from behind the door. He sounded suspiciously like he'd been crying. There was a clatter and the sound of water draining from the tub. After a minute, the door opened, and Sirius came out wearing nothing but Remus's shirt.

"The trousers won't stay up," he said. "Not to mention that I've got nothing to wear underneath them."

"I'd lend you my pants, but that seems a little personal," Remus said.

"This is fine," Sirius said.

"For talking to Dumbledore? Here, I think I can charm these to fit." Remus picked up the trousers.

"Dumbledore. I've still got to ..." Sirius bit his lip. "I need to sit down again for a minute first."

"Lie down instead and get some proper sleep," Remus said, steering Sirius gently toward the bed. "You'll feel better for it, and make more sense, too."

"Only if you lie down with me," Sirius said, with the faintest ghost of an old wicked expression on his face.

"You know, if you try anything, you'll probably faint," Remus pointed out as he climbed into bed.

"At least I'll already be lying down."

"Sirius ..." Remus ran his hand over the sharp ridge of Sirius's too-thin shoulder.

"Fortune favors the brave," Sirius murmured dreamily.

Remus caught Sirius's hand in his and held it very tight.

"I hate that wretched animal," Remus muttered, clutching his injured arm. Coming by early to get a few minutes alone with Sirius before the Order meeting had been a good idea. Trying to help Sirius feed Buckbeak had not been a good idea. "Oh, God damn it, ow."

He opened the kitchen door, hoping he remembered seeing bandages in the pantry along with Severus's potions supplies, and stopped with the door half-open. Kreacher's creaky voice was raised in high, thin laughter.

"I'm warning you!" Harry's voice was shrill, clearly on the edge of panic. "What about Lupin? Mad-Eye? Any of them, are any of them there?"

"Nobody here but Kreacher," the elf chuckled. Remus pushed the door open.

"Not true, actually," he said. "What's this about, Harry? Where are you?"

"In Umbridge's office," Harry said, to Remus's extreme dismay. "Where's Sirius? I think he's in terrible danger."

"Upstairs," Remus said. "With that bloody menace of a hippogriff."

"You're sure?" Harry said, relaxing in apparent relief. "Not at the Department of Mysteries?"

"No," Remus said. "Harry, it's not safe for you to--"

Harry opened his mouth to reply and was suddenly dragged backwards out of view. The back of the fireplace returned very suddenly to bleak stone.

"Oh, damn it," Remus said. "And where do you think you're going?" He rounded on Kreacher, who was creeping backwards out of the room.

"My work," Kreacher said sullenly.

"You lied to Harry, Kreacher."

"Kreacher is not having to answer you," Kreacher muttered.

"No," Remus said, and drew his wand, holding it on Kreacher. "But you'll have to answer to Sirius."

There was a clatter on the staircase, and the kitchen door swung open.

"Are you still bleeding, Moony? I really don't think he's taking to you --"

"Harry's just been caught in Umbridge's office trying to reach you," Remus said. "And Kreacher wasn't helping."

"You little --" Sirius began.

"Stupefy," Remus said, and watched the house-elf topple. "We haven't got time for that, Sirius." He raised his wand and pointed it in what he hoped was the direction of Hogwarts, although at this range it didn't really matter.

"What are you doing?"

Remus looked at him over the top of his wand. "Alerting Severus. He's the one who's at Hogwarts. He'll have to pacify Umbridge."

"Severus is an idiot. And Umbridge doesn't have a pacifiable bone in her body. We should go."

"Will you let me do this?"

"Will you come with me to Hogwarts?"

"No, Sirius."

"Then -- then I'll let you do it anyway, damn it," Sirius said tightly. "And then I'll tell you just what I think of you."

"You do that," Remus said. "After I call Severus."

Quite some time later, sitting in front of the fire in Sirius's room with a great deal of noise still going on below, Remus said, "You were going to tell me what you think of me."

"I ... was I?"

"Never mind," Remus said. "So what happens now?"

Sirius shrugged. "Damned if I know. Have they found Umbridge yet?"

"Not a trace of her," Remus said. "I suppose it's too early to hope she's dead."

"She'd better be," Sirius said. "Hermione scares me sometimes."

"Umbridge was going to use an Unforgivable Curse on the children. That's a hell of an extenuating circumstance."

"Even so, maybe we'd better --"

"Dumbledore's gone to look for her. I'm sure he'll ... handle things."

"Well, all right," Sirius said. "If she's ... not able to run Hogwarts anymore, for whatever reason, is he back?"

"Nobody knows yet," Remus said. He stood up, restless, and paced across the room, staring through the glass of the window at the closed shutters. "He thinks Kreacher meant to lure them to the Department of Mysteries, you know. He thinks they were there tonight."

"Who was -- I mean, was anybody ..."

"Nobody was on watch tonight," Remus said. "At least nobody we know."

"I have to see Harry," Sirius said. "I just want to know ..."

"He's fine, Sirius," Remus said, coming over to rub Sirius's shoulders. "We'll see him in the summer."

"I know," Sirius said. "I know. It's just ..."

"I know. It's all so fragile."

"This isn't," Sirius said, tugging Remus down to his side. Remus knelt in front of the chair, leaning in close. "You're not."

"No," Remus said. "Neither are you."

Sirius rested a hand on Remus's hair, and Remus wondered if he was lying, too.

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