FIC: He That Believeth In Me (4/5)

[lls_mutant]

***

"The thing is, he's right," Sirius said to Remus two nights later. "I don't want to admit it, but he is."

"I know."

They were in Remus's poky little rathole. Sirius was sitting on the sagging sofa, head in his hands. But when he looked up, Remus was standing against the wall, perfectly composed and calm.

"You know?" he said.

"Of course. I've always known."

He wasn't lying. Sirius could see that. "So why then?"

"Why did I sleep with you?" Remus raised his eyebrows with amusement. "I wanted to, Sirius. It's that simple. I figured I'd better take the chance while I had it. And I got the added bonus of being your first." He shrugged.

"So you're not upset?" Sirius asked.

"Like I said, I expected it."

Sirius sighed, knowing Remus well enough to know that was the only answer he was going to get. And that if he was giving this sort of answer, there was more to the story.

Somehow, he had a feeling he'd fucked up big time.

***

There was no time to think about it, because the next day Dumbledore sent them all word that the Prewett brothers had been killed. The news hit Sirius harder than he'd expected. He hadn't been in any way close to Fabian or Gideon, but he supposed that after Fabian had been wounded, he thought that was all that the Prewett brothers were going to have to take. That it somehow made them safe. It was an illusion he didn't realize he held, but it was startling to have it shattered regardless.

But the Prewett brothers had been tough- no one had ever doubted that. And when they went down, they took Death Eaters with them.

Death Eaters had been killed before, but never so publicly. The news was like a spark to dry tinder, and the effects flared into flame. Disappearances increased. Attacks became more frequent. No one was safe.

Not even Sirius.

It was to be expected that the Death Eaters would attack him. Sirius had always seen it coming. It happened one night in January, when water froze running down the window panes and eyelashes froze together. He'd been in bed when the Death Eaters exploded into his flat, masked and a whirlwind of robes and confusion. He managed to grab his wand and fire off a few curses, but quickly realized he was outnumbered. He tried to Apparate, but it was no good.

He smelled smoke, and he swore. But there was no time to look around- two Death Eaters were firing curses at him and it was only his bed and a Shield Charm that were keeping him alive right now. But if the flat was going to be wrecked anyway….

"Accio motorbike!"

There was no doubt about it in Sirius's mind. If his home was going to be destroyed and he was going to be attacked by Death Eaters, he might as well escape with style. A flying motorbike breaking through the walls, stopping as he hopped on, and then speeding away and breaking through the opposite wall fit the bill perfectly.

Too bad it was January, though, because Sirius slept naked and the Death Eaters weren't overly considerate about letting him pause the battle for a robe. But it did make it much easier to moon them as he left.

***

"You and Lily ought to join a club," James said solemnly as he brought a shivering Sirius a pair of his own pajamas, a cup of tea, and a bottle of whiskey. "You have to flash a Death Eater to get in."

"At least one of them should have died with jealousy," Sirius said, but his teeth were chattering too much to smile properly. He scowled, laced the tea James handed him liberally with the whiskey, and then gulped it gratefully. "Don't you think?"

"I haven't been checking you out when you're naked, Padfoot," James said dryly. But there was no fire in his voice.

"What happened?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing," James clearly lied.

That only scared Sirius more. "James, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

James shook his head. "Not tonight, Sirius. It's been a rough night for all of us."

"All of us? I was the one that was nearly killed!"

"And if you don't know how badly that scares me, you don't know me at all, Padfoot." James stepped forward and hugged Sirius tightly. Sirius hugged him back. "Do you need anything else?" James asked.

"Nope. Not me. I'm fine."

"Well, goodnight then."

"Good night."

Sirius waited until James was out of the room, and then went over to the bookshelf. As he suspected, Lily's Bible was there. He pulled it out and padded back to the sofa, tapping it with his wand. The sofa flew open to a bed, and Sirius lay down, pulled the blankets James had given him around himself, and opened the Bible to the Book of Job. But as he tried to read, the words swam in front of him.

In the back of his mind, he was worried about James. Something was clearly wrong, but Sirius also had no doubt that James would tell him what it was tomorrow. It was easy enough to dismiss. What was much harder to forget was the image of what could have happened, if Sirius had been asleep in the Rectory as opposed to asleep in his own flat.

For the first time, he actively thanked God that he hadn't attended seminary after all.

***

"All right," Sirius said when James appeared the next morning, rumpled and barely awake. "What's going on?"

"Coffee," James groaned. "I need coffee."

Sirius handed him a cup, which James regarded with confusion. "Not only did I understand how scared you were last night," Sirius said, "but I also understand your caffeine addiction. Drink, and tell me what the hell is going on?"

James sat down at the kitchen table and took the proffered mug. "Thank you," he muttered, and drank deeply. "One more cup," he gasped, wiping his mouth with his pajama sleeve. Sirius refilled his mug, and James sipped it more slowly. Finally, he said, "There's this prophecy."

"Oh, good God, no."

"I know. We both think Divination is a load of rubbish. Believe me, it drives me crazy to even have to take this seriously. But Voldemort apparently believes in it, and he's certainly not a load of rubbish. As you can very well testify."

"So there's this prophecy?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah. Apparently, a child was born last July to parents who thrice defied Voldemort who will be the key to his undoing."

Sirius groaned. "And you and Lily have defied Voldemort plenty of times." The realization kept dawning on him. "Wait a minute. I assume Voldemort's not going to just sit around and wait for Harry to grow into adulthood."

James shook his head grimly.

"Oh, God. Then that means…." Sirius buried his head in his hands, and then pulled himself together long enough to hug James. "I'm sorry."

James returned the embrace for a moment and then sat back. "It's not as bad as it sounds," he said in a voice that was obviously a bad attempt at being cheerful. "Harry's not the only one that fits the prophecy."

"Who else does?" Sirius asked, mentally tallying the names.

"Neville Longbottom. And Dumbledore says there may even be others, but those are the only two he can think of. But right now, he thinks any deliberate hiding will put both kids in danger. If Voldemort isn't aware of the two kids, then he will become aware of them. And if he is, he might decide to go after the other one immediately, before they can hide."

"I can't believe it."

"It gets worse."

"Worse? How can it get worse?"

"You've heard the rumors of a spy in the Order?" James asked. Sirius nodded. "They're not rumors. Dumbledore is positive that someone in the Order has gone over."

"Does he have any suspicions on who?"

"No," James sighed. "Worse, he doesn't even know if they're doing it voluntarily or if they've truly switched sides. The Death Eaters are using the Imperius Curse these days."

"But it really increases the danger, doesn't it?"

James nodded. Down the hall, they heard Harry wake up with short, hiccuping cries. James stood up, but Lily's soft voice soothing Harry made him sit back down. "Sirius, are we going to get through this?" James asked.

"You will," Sirius said, more determined than he'd ever been in his life. "I'll see to it that you will."

***

PART TWO.


The door slammed behind him. Sirius ran to it, trying to fling himself between the bars and the door before it closed, but to no avail. The clang echoed through the cell and through his soul.

He threw himself at the door, screaming as he did so. The door didn't budge, but he attacked it again and again, clawing at it with his bare hands. The wood wore away the skin and left splinters under his nails, but it did not give way.

He didn't stop until his throat was raw and his fingers were bloody, and only then because the anger had seeped away, leaving grief to dominate. Sirius sank to the ground, huddled against the door and sobbing. The image of James and Lily dead was still fresh in his mind, and the presence of the Dementors only intensified it.

But I didn't do it.

The thought gave him strength, even as the guilt washed over him. He should have known better than to trust Peter. In retrospect, it was all so clear. But Remus had seemed more logical, just by virtue of being smarter. Smarter and better.

He should have known that Remus… well, he should have known why things were different with Remus. Why Remus acted differently around him. Ever since Christmas. He didn't want to believe it was because of the sex, but it was. At least part of it. James had hinted at other issues, other problems, other things Remus was fighting, but Sirius hadn't wanted to listen, because if he thought too much about Remus, he'd have to think about the mistakes he'd made.

He ran his hands through his hair desperately, taking deep breaths. Idly he noticed that there was a tiny window, high above where he could reach, and the night was falling. It was cold in the cell, and when he touched his face, his skin was icy where it was wet. There was straw on the floor and a bucket in the corner. He shivered and turned away, huddling in on himself, pulling his robe tight around his body.

He desperately wanted to pray, but the words just wouldn't come.

***

"I understood when my family was the way they are. I understood when You showed me I could not love them. I understood when You took the Potters away. I tried to rationalize that You made Remus a werewolf. I've seen dead children, dead fathers and husbands, dead wives and mothers. I've watched families be torn apart and murdered by a power hungry madman. But I don't understand this.

"I wanted to serve You! I wanted to spread Your Word, to help people! And what do You do? You let one of my best friends betray us so that my very best friend- my brother- and his wife were killed! You left their son an orphan! You left my other best friend alone in the world, believing it all happened! And You let them blame ME!

"Why? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

For the first time in his life, he was angry with God. Really, truly, angry, as angry as he'd been at his family, as angry as he was at Peter. And in Azkaban, anger came easily.

***

Days crept by; long, monotonous days of boredom. Sirius began to discover a rhythm to life in Azkaban: daily meals, prisoners coming in, corpses leaving. His cell had bars for one wall, like an animal's cage. He could see the Dementors float by; hear the ramblings of other prisoners.

There was a cell across from him, with a heavyset man imprisoned inside. Sirius didn't want to talk to him, but after a while he had to. "What are you in for?"

"Murder. Well, essentially," the man said. He smiled, revealing a row of decaying teeth. "Same as you, I imagine."

Sirius lifted his chin. "In theory. But I didn't do it."

"Right. You keep telling yourself that."

Sirius couldn't look away from the teeth. Is that what his own mouth would look like in twenty years? Twenty years. The thought hit him like a load of bricks, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into the filthy straw and cry. But he kept himself on his feet. "It has to be true," he said. "I couldn't imagine it- the Dementors would suck it away."

The man considered for a long time. "Reckon you're right about that," he conceded. "My name's Tarquin McTavish."

Sirius knew the name, and groaned inwardly. But he nodded. "Sirius Black."

"Yeah? One of the Blacks? Not surprised to see you in here, then." Tarquin grinned wider. "Me, I managed to get my Muggle neighbor into a kettle. Don't much consider that murder, myself. After all, he was still alive in there, until they tried to get him out. But that's not my fault that he died."

Sirius felt sick. For once in his life, he was at an utter loss for words.

"You know any Muggles?" Tarquin asked him.

"Yeah, a fair few," Sirius said, anger straightening his spine. Might as well blast the bastard with a little exaggerated truth- it would be good entertainment if nothing else. "My first boyfriend was a Muggle."

He was disappointed. Instead of shock or outrage, Tarquin just snorted. "Can't be mixing with Muggles too much," he said. "Surprised you were. Spent a lot of time with them?"

"I went to seminary," Sirius said.

Taquin laughed. It was a heavy, mirthless laugh that chilled Sirius to the bone. It occurred to him that Taquin was far too lucid for the amount of time he'd obviously spent here, which meant he probably didn't regret what he'd done at all.

He drew back against the wall, shaking. How was he going to get through this?

***

Days turned into years. His hair grew long and matted, his body withered into skin and bones. They never gave him a new robe, and the one he wore became ragged and worn. His skin peeled and cracked from untreated frostbite in the winter, and his fingers became infected from biting the nails to the quick.

He'd discovered he could still turn into a dog. It was a comfort, because when he was a dog he couldn't think nearly as clearly, and the Dementors couldn't overwhelm him.

Tarquin began to deteriorate. Their conversations became more eccentric; more erratic. Sirius noticed he began to stop eating, and the Dementors frequented their corridor more often. They seemed excited, although Sirius couldn't explain how he knew that. And then finally the death came, and it was like a sweet release, because the Dementors' presence was diminished afterwards.

The oddities stood out. He remembered Barty Crouch being brought in. He seemed a boy, but later, Sirius remembered that he was only two years younger than himself. He'd been a Hufflepuff, Sirius vaguely recalled, but he didn't remember much more about him. He could hear the young man screaming down the hall, begging for his mother.

That was one thing Sirius never did.

***

Visits from Ministry Officials were not that rare, but Sirius savored them as a break in the indistinguishable days and nights. Most of them shied away from his cell, as if he had the power to kill them from within.

Many times, he wished he did.

The first few times, he'd tried begging that he was innocent. But the officials either turned deaf ears or stared at him with contempt. One spat at him, and one fired a rather nasty curse that took a few days to wear off.

He was sitting in the corner staring at the empty cell across from him when the officials came through. Most of them had cross expressions, but one- a younger, thin redhead with a receding hairline and glasses- was shivering. There was something about his expression as he looked around, something more compassionate than Sirius had ever seen on an official's face. He reached through the bars and touched the man's robe.

The man started out of his own misery, and then shrank back, swallowing hard, as he saw Sirius's face. Sirius took a deep breath.

"Please," he said, as nicely as he knew how. His voice was rough with disuse and sounded strange in his own ears. "If you can, please send me a Bible."

The man blinked in surprise. "A Bible?" he asked incredulously.

"Please," Sirius begged. "A Bible. Any version. Any condition. But please, a Bible. I used to-"

"Weasley!" another voice called. "Come on! We're going!"

Weasley looked at Sirius for one more long moment, then drew his cloak around him and hurried away. Sirius leapt to his feet and clung to the bars. "Please!" he shouted after the rapidly retreating figure. "Just a Bible!"

There was no answer.

There was no answer, but a month later a Dementor pushed a battered Bible through the bars. There was no note attached, no name given. For a wild, desperate moment Sirius thought that maybe Remus had remembered him, but the hope drained out of him instantly. Remus would never do something like this, and he remembered Weasley.

"I didn't do it," Sirius whispered as he held the book in his hands. "I am innocent."

And when he looked down at the cover, he was able to manage a glimmer of a smile.

***

He'd expected reading the Bible to bring him peace. He hadn't realized- even after seven years- exactly what the Dementors could do. Instead of peace and hope, he found himself finding questions in the text. Anger. Violence and hatred. Contradictions. And he began to doubt.

He threw the Bible across the cell. It hit the stone wall and fell like a wounded bird, and that only made him feel guilty rather than feeling better. He ran over and scooped it up, whispering apologies and contrition. The pages were rumpled but intact. He gently put the book in a corner, and then retreated across the room, staring at it.

***

Sometimes he could read Paul's letters. They were hard, because he'd never liked Paul, misogynistic bastard that Sirius believed he was. Before, he'd stifled those thoughts, because Paul had written a good portion of the New Testament and there was far more good in his words than bad. But here in Azkaban, all Sirius could see was what he hated.

He wondered if Paul was secretly gay. Wouldn't that be funny? The humor leached out of him, and he deflated as soon as he thought it.

But regardless, Paul had been a prisoner. Okay, so at least Paul had done what they accused him of, but he was still- in Sirius's mind- wrongfully imprisoned. He wasn't allowed the feelings of comfort and hope- they were taken as soon as they began to burgeon- but they did give him a grim determination that kept him alive and helped keep him sane.

***

Nightmares used to be an occasional thing, coming only when he slept and banished by the light of day. Now he saw them all the time, dancing in front of his eyes, and the worst part was, they were all real.

The day he realized he hated his family. The day he left home. The time he was stupid enough to send Snape to the Whomping Willow. Every time Remus had been disappointed in him. The few times he and James had fought.

The day he'd been refused from seminary. The days the Potters had died. Watching James vomit blood. Watching Remus transform. Death after death that he couldn't stop. Helplessness. Rage. The day Regulus had died, and Sirius couldn't do anything to stop it.

Finding James. Finding Lily. Finding Harry. Harry being taken from him, whisked away with the barest of good-byes. Harry growing up without him. Remus believing that he'd betrayed James and Lily and Harry, and that he'd killed those Muggles.

Peter betraying them all.

His mind was shattered fragments, whirling together and drowning him in the undertow. Only one thought cut through it, and he clung to it desperately.

I am innocent.

***

Fudge wore a yellow pinstriped robe, as if the bright color could keep the effects of the Dementors away. Not only was it the ugliest thing Sirius had ever seen, it obviously wasn't working. Well, good.

He leaned against the grate, watching the delegation pass by. Fudge shot him a harried, haunted look. Sirius met his gaze evenly.

"Say, would you mind if I took your paper, if you're done with it?" he said. "I've really missed doing the crossword."

"Here." Fudge handed it to him hastily, as if Sirius would reach out between the bars and strangle him for not complying.

"Thank you," Sirius said, as graciously as he could manage.

Fudge nodded and scooted away like a frightened rat. Sirius frowned fiercely at the analogy. I am innocent, he told himself again, as the whirlpool of anger and grief opened beneath him. I didn't do it. I didn't kill those Muggles.

He opened the paper, and then swore as he realized he'd forgotten he didn't have a quill. Nonetheless, he actually had some reading material. He thumbed through.

It was Weasley who caught his eye first. He was waving cheerfully with a brood of children. Sirius remembered his face, pale and scared and sweating despite the bitter cold. Here he looked happy and sure of himself. To his mild surprise, he noticed Molly Prewett standing next to him. She'd aged and put on weight, but he'd know her. That day in the hospital- the damage to Fabian Prewett and the futility of it all- that had stuck with him through Azkaban. And he'd known she was married to a-

And then he saw the rat.

Peter Pettigrew, fed and plump and sitting on a boy's shoulder. Sirius's mouth hung open, especially as he noticed the paw with one missing toe. Not that he needed that evidence. He'd know Peter's Animagus form anywhere.

He looked at the caption beneath, and saw that the brood attended Hogwarts. Hogwarts, where Harry must be.

Sirius threw the paper down and howled.

***

The water was so cold it cut to the bone. He couldn't breathe, but he struggled on anyway. Harry. I have to get to Harry. I have to get to Harry.

The water rose and splashed against his force, salt entering his nose and the waves sending him back. He swam on doggedly. The pun made him grin inside.

When was the last time he'd smiled? He couldn't think that now, or he'd feel like dying, and here in the ocean, he'd do just that.

Suddenly, he felt sand beneath his paws. He took a few more strokes and was able to walk, wading through the water. He staggered out of the water, pushing every muscle to exhaustion to get as far away from the water as he could. Then he fell against the sand, the rain beating down on his body, too tired to move or transform.

Thank Merlin, his mind whispered, and then he fell asleep.

***

Sunlight. Sirius had forgotten how beautiful sunlight was. He tipped his face up to enjoy it as he trotted down the road.

He had not expected Harry to look so much like James, but he should have. It had thrown him, because he remembered James at thirteen and it was like watching the past come back to life. But the memories were good ones, and even if they hurt, Sirius was glad they were there.

Memories had come back to him in a painful flood, one that literally kept him on the ground under their weight. He'd been forced to turn into a dog again to control the flow. He couldn't concentrate… couldn't think. Not like this. But for now, he was able to walk along this dusty road, headed towards Hogwarts. There was enough time to be a bit leisurely before the term started, and walking helped keep him so tired that he couldn't think too hard.

He heard music. Music was something he had missed desperately in Azkaban, and his ears perked up at the sound. It was beautiful and clear, cutting through the summer morning joyfully.

Church bells.

The sound froze his soul. He stopped in his tracks, and then turned tail and ran the other way, as fast as he could. He didn't stop until all he could hear was his heart pounding and his breath coming in rapid gasps. He collapsed in a wooded area and transformed back into a man.

He lay on the leaves for a long moment, trying to regain his composure. But his fingers clawed the earth and he found himself crying, for reasons he didn't understand.

***

The Forbidden Forest was much like he remembered it. The castle of Hogwarts was exactly like he remembered it. The people around it… they weren't.

All right. Dumbledore, when he spotted him, looked the same. And so did Hagrid, although there was a little more gray in his wild black hair, and a few more lines around the eyes. Snape was still greasy and sallow and flat-out ugly, but he was older, his hair was different, and he radiated an authority that made Sirius's hair stand on end. McGonagall was older and grayer; Sirius remembered when he and James had joked she had a full dominatrix getup hiding in her room.

But nothing compared to the shock of seeing Remus Lupin again.

He hadn't expected it, not at all, and the sight of Remus made him flee to the safety of the Forbidden Forest, because Remus was one of two people left on Earth who would recognize him in this form. But from under the cover of leaves, he peeked out.

Remus was walking alone, intent on whatever thoughts were in his head. He was thin and wan, with crinkles at the corners of his eyes and gray in his hair. His robes were mended with meticulous care, but even care couldn't hide the multitude of patches. He glanced at the Forest and smiled a grim smile, and Sirius realized how hard being here must be for him. Hell, it was hard for himself, with the ghosts of their younger selves ready to pop up at every turn.

Sirius desperately wanted to run to him, to transform and explain everything. But he was wandless, and Remus had lived for twelve years believing Sirius to have betrayed them all, and killed James, Lily, and Peter. Sirius had the suspicion he wouldn't live long enough to explain- if the situation was reversed, Remus sure wouldn't, he was honest enough to admit that.

He would have to wait.

***

He'd waited for twelve years in the Hell that was Azkaban. He waited for nine months in the Forbidden Forest. He focused on Peter, on revenge, on Harry's safety, because anything else was too hard and too painful to dwell on. And finally, one night in June, he got what was coming to him. Revenge, forgiveness, Remus, and Harry.

Well, almost. But almost was more than he'd expected. It would have to do.

***

Sirius lay on the grass, staring up the sky. Next to him, Buckbeak munched lazily on a squirrel. The crunch of bone was rather nauseating, but Sirius had heard far worse in his time.

Finally, the speck he expected appeared. He sat up eagerly, watching as the speck grew. He could make out wings, legs, a rider… Remus on a thestral. He smiled, leaping to his feet and waving his arms.

"If that's your version of subterfuge, it amazes me that you've stayed uncaptured this entire year," Remus said dryly as the thestral landed and he slid off.

"Git," Sirius said affectionately. "Please tell me you brought food."

"As much as I could get without arousing suspicion," Remus said, pulling a bag off the back of the thestral. "Fortunately, with all of Hogwarts now knowing my condition, that wasn't hard."

Sirius noticed the dry, self-deprecating smile and new bitterness etched into Remus's expression, but before he could say anything his nose caught the scent of chicken soup and he immediately homed in on the thermos in Remus's hand.

"Eat it slowly," Remus said, pouring Sirius a cup. "I know you would have preferred something with a little more meat to it, but your stomach needs something easy to digest. If you can keep that down for an hour, I'll give you the bread."

"My stomach's fine, Moony," Sirius protested. The soup was heavenly, with homemade noodles, lots of vegetables, and a meaty broth. He burnt his tongue, but he couldn't stop drinking it. "I've been eating all manner of things since I escaped. If I can stomach squirrel, rabbit, frogs, and fish, I can handle chicken."

Remus winced. "That's what you've been eating?"

Sirius shrugged. "And Hagrid's cooking, when he decides to feed a loveable stray that never sticks around."

Remus immediately handed over the bread.

"You know, it's not that bad, rabbit," Sirius said around an extra large bite. "And fish is just fine. Especially after Azkaban gruel." Remus winced again. "And every now and then that kneazle of Hermione's would manage to get me something."

Remus forced a smile. "St. Francis of Assisi would be proud."

It took Sirius a moment to remember who Remus was referring to. His own smile was just as stiff. "Yeah." He chewed his bread and an awkward silence descended over them both.

"So what are you going to do now?" Remus asked. "What are your plans?"

"I don't really have any," Sirius admitted. He sighed. "James was always the planner. James and Peter." He spat the name off his tongue. "And this was a contingency I wasn't prepared for."

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

"It's all right," Sirius said, even though it wasn't. Not quite yet. Azkaban had made anger too much a habit to be easily abandoned now, but Sirius was bright enough to know that alienating Remus would be one of the stupidest ideas ever. Remus was silent, indicating that this wasn't over, but Sirius was suddenly tired. "I guess I should leave England," he said, more to break the silence than anything else. "Maybe I'll go south."

"That sounds nice," Remus said lamely.

Sirius eyed him sharply. "And you? What are you going to do? You must have a cache saved up from teaching at Hogwarts." He clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm not begging for money," he said hastily.

"No," Remus said with a wan smile. "You aren't. I have a little money, but not much. I only taught there for one year."

"One year? The Defense teachers are still on a revolving basis?" Sirius asked incredulously. Remus nodded, and he chuckled. "Well, then. Want to come with me?"

Remus smiled broadly. "I thought you'd never ask."

***

The ended up in Morocco, because it was someplace they'd both always wanted to go and was far away. The sandy colored buildings and noisy bazaars and languages were completely different than anything Sirius had ever known. There was a peace in that, and he savored the difference.

"I'm not sure we'll find a Catholic church for you too easily," Remus said when they surveyed the city.

Sirius ran a hand through his newly washed and cut hair. "I don't want one," he said.

Remus raised his eyebrows, but Sirius shook his head. He couldn't talk about it right now, because the anger and pain and sadness that welled up in him at the mere mention were overwhelming. But of everyone in his life, Remus knew not to press the subject better than anyone would have.

They strayed away from the edges of civilization, making a tent in an unpopulated area near the ocean. Oddly enough, the sound of the waves and the briny scent were soothing, even though that's what had been his backdrop for years. Remus seemed to enjoy it as well.

They'd been there for two weeks when Sirius came out of the tent to see Remus, his face tipped up to the night breeze coming from the ocean, his eyes closed. He sat down beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Remus opened his eyes, looked at him and smiled. Their eyes locked, and much to Sirius's shock, he felt an old electricity run down his spine.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Remus replied back.

There was a lot for them to say, but Sirius found that none of it was coming to his lips. He looked up at the sky. "Different stars than the ones I've seen for the past twelve years."

"Past thirteen, or more than that," Remus said. "We're in a different part of the world now."

"Have you ever been down here?"

"To Morocco?"

"No, Africa in general."

"Oh. Yes."

"When?"

"In 1983. I was still… grieving, I guess, is the best word."

"I see." Sirius could feel Remus's body through their thin robes. It was warm, but skinny. But not nearly as bad as his own. "You still haven't said much about how those years were for you."

Remus sighed heavily. "I know. The thing is, Sirius, they weren't all bad. They were hard and desperate, but there were people and there was life and I laughed and I was happy sometimes. And that all seems like it's rubbing it in your face."

Impulsively, Sirius took Remus's hand. "It's not," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm glad you had happiness. I only wish you had more."

Remus nodded abstractly. Then, after a long silence, he said, "Sirius? Why don't you want to find a church? I'd think you would."

"I don't." Sirius swallowed hard. "I can't talk about it much."

"I'm willing to listen," Remus said, turning his hand over in Sirius's and entwining their fingers.

"I know. But I can't really say the words."

Remus pressed his lips together and looked back out to the ocean. "I guess that says a lot, right there."

"Yeah. It does."

They sat hand in hand, watching the stars wheel about above them and the waves pound the shore.

***

The sun burned his skin, and although it itched, Sirius reveled in it. As the weeks drifted by, his body began to flesh out again. He began to smile. And he and Remus found the words to tell each other what had happened those past twelve years.

"I do have to tell you," Remus said one afternoon while they lay on blankets in the sand, facing each other over a chess board, "I saw Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Sirius said, surprised. "Gabriel Graham?"

"Yeah." Remus picked up a piece and twirled it between his fingers. "He's a priest now. I… well, I went to one of his Masses. He's a good speaker," he admitted.

"I'm not surprised." Sirius smiled reminiscently. "Check."

"He heard my Confession."

Sirius hadn't had anything to drink, but he choked anyway. "You're kidding," he said, when he could manage it through the coughing.

Remus laughed. "Yes and no," he said. "I went into one of those little Confessional booth things, but I didn't actually go through the rites or anything. He knew me, of course. But I needed to talk to someone who knew you, but didn't know what you did. Or what I thought you did."

"Yeah?" Sirius was trying to picture Remus in Confession and was failing miserably. "What did he say?"

"A lot of stuff that made sense, actually. He helped me a lot." Remus's eyes were still on the chess piece. "He's a good priest, Sirius."

"I knew he would be."

"You would have been a good one, too."

The sunshine dimmed a bit. "Please don't say that."

"Why not?"

Sirius shook his head. "I'm surprised you went to Gabriel," he said finally. "You never liked him."

"Not for any real reason," Remus admitted.

"Then why not?"

Remus smiled slyly. "You tell me why you don't want to talk about the priesthood, and I'll tell you why I never liked Gabriel." He moved his rook.

Sirius sighed and moved to capture Remus's queen. "Not yet. And checkmate."

***

Sirius had not thought about that Christmas Day in 1980 in thirteen years. Well, not in a good way, anyway. It was one of the first memories the Dementors had taken away, and since then, it was like an open wound, too painful to touch. But with Remus in such close proximity all the time, he had to think about it.

The memories were still strong- he was a little surprised that they were. Not because they weren't powerful, but because most days his mind still felt a little bit jagged and torn. But the smell of Remus, the feel of his skin when they brushed against each other, and the comfort of his presence made it impossible not to remember.

He was thinking about it when Remus found him in his usual spot one night, staring at the sea. The air was warm and humid, and far out he could see the lights of a ship.

"Do you ever wonder," he said as Remus sat down beside him, "what would have happened if I'd said, 'hey, I'm not making any promises, but let's see where this goes?'"

Remus sat back, his hands supporting him. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"If I'd let it happen… if I hadn't been so determined that seminary was the only life for me… we would have been together. And then there wouldn't have been that distance and awkwardness between us, and I would have been around you more. I wouldn't have thought you were the spy- I would have known better because I couldn't ignore the evidence. And we would have caught Peter, and James and Lily would be alive today."

"That's one way it could have happened," Remus said. "Another way is that one of us would have died first- or both of us. Or that I still would have been out doing work for Dumbledore, spying on the werewolves, and I still wouldn't have been able to tell you and you still would have thought what you thought. Or maybe we could have put it off for a bit, and Peter still would have gotten them killed. Or maybe the Longbottoms would have died first. There are a million things that could have happened, Sirius."

"But if I'd just… if I had…"

Remus shook his head. "Why are you dwelling on that decision, anyway? Why not the Secret Keeper switch, or going after Peter yourself?"

Sirius laughed hollowly. "I guess I need a break from those," he said. "In Azkaban, all I could do was think of ways it could have been different."

"But why you and me?" Remus pressed gently.

Sirius drew a pattern in the sand. He stared at it as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world as he spoke. "Back when I was in seminary, I realized I had feelings for you. I went to talk to Bishop Goodwin, because I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know how to deal with it. And he told me to make sure I was reading the signs God gave me correctly, and maybe He was offering me a different sort of life. That He had a different plan for me rather than the priesthood." Remus was sitting very still, very silent. Sirius couldn't gauge his reaction. "One of the things I keep wondering is if Bishop Goodwin was right. And I went against God's will, and He punished me."

Remus exhaled slowly. "So you still believe in God?" he asked gently.

"Yes." Sirius moved his gaze from the sand to his toes. Even though they were tanned, he could still see his feet as white and skeletal in his mind so clearly that they looked that way to his eyes. "But I don't want to."

"So your problem isn't that you've lost God."

"Fuck, no. I know exactly where He is, but I'm mad as Hell at him." To his horror, Sirius felt his breath began to shake and his hands tremble. "I hate Him, Remus," he whispered, so softly that Remus had to lean in to hear. "I hate Him for what he did to James and Lily, and you, and me."

"God didn't do that to us," Remus said softly, taking Sirius's hands in his. He came around in front of Sirius and knelt in front of him, catching his chin in his hand and tipping Sirius's face up so he had to look at Remus. "He didn't do that. Peter did that. Never lose sight of that. Peter did it."

Sirius nodded, trying to get himself under control. He clung to Remus's hands, gripping them tightly. They were solid, and had just as firm a hold on him. When he could speak again, he cocked his head and asked, "Why are you saying this? All the time I've known you, you never believed in God."

"I still don't," Remus admitted, "although not as devoutly as I used to. I suppose I've moved from atheist to agnostic over the years. But I know you, and I know what you believed. Thirteen years ago, when your mind was whole, you would have seen the truth. I want you to still see it now."

Sirius inclined his head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Remus dropped one hand and moved back to sit by Sirius's side. Sirius turned to look at him, and saw Remus right there, watching him. Their eyes met, and he knew it was coming and closed his eyes milliseconds before Remus's lips met his.

The kiss started chaste and gentle. Remus's lips were dry from the sea air, and far more tentative than they'd been all those years ago. But Sirius reached up and touched his face. It was a light touch, no more than a soft brush with his fingertips. But it was enough.

Remus shifted his body so he could pull Sirius close, and pulled his mouth away to ghost kisses over Sirius's face. Forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, eyes… Sirius could only shudder under the tender onslaught. He reached up and wrapped an arm around Remus's shoulders, pulling his down as he leaned back into the sand.

They shed their robes, laughing a little at the awkwardness of trying to get the fabric off and arranged under them to prevent sand showing up exactly where it shouldn't. Then they were naked together under the night sky, the moon silver on their bodies and in their hair. Sirius lay back and pulled Remus over him, his hands tracing Remus's collarbones wonderingly.

Remus's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Not for the first time, Sirius wondered just how much Remus thought about that Christmas Day. But now was not the time to ask; it was the time to explore with small kisses, gentle hands, and deliberate breaths.

Suddenly, Remus opened his eyes. "Sirius," he whispered. "I'm not your consolation."

"What?"

"I'm not your consolation for the life you wanted, and I'm not your salvation from what you've done."

Sirius understood. "No," he said. "No. You're not." He reached up and cupped Remus's cheek. "I'll find my own consolation, and Harry is my salvation. You… you are my grace."

Remus closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Sirius's hand. When Sirius pulled his hand away, it was wet with Remus's silent tears.

Their lips met again, and Sirius felt his soul lift as his body arched up into Remus's. They began to move together, slowly at first, uncertain of each other's rhythms and desires. Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus's waist and Remus caressed his shoulders, his forearms tight against Sirius's biceps. The friction began to build, and soon Sirius couldn't think about anything, anything except Remus.

He'd never admit that there were tears on his own face when it was over, but there were.

***

Sex doesn't cure everything, and neither does love. But it sure makes the hardships easier to bear.

***

PART THREE

"I hate being stuck in here," Sirius growled, throwing himself on a couch.

"I know you do," Remus said. "But it's best for Harry, I suppose." Although Remus didn't look much like he believed it, either.

But neither of them could convince Dumbledore otherwise. And Dumbledore was so often right… Sirius didn't want to make another mistake. Not when it came to Harry.

The doorbell rang, and the portrait shrieked to life. They both swore and sprinted down the stairs. Remus dealt with his mother, and Sirius answered the door.

"For fuck sake, just come in next time!" he said, yanking the door open.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I would not presume to break etiquette and enter without warning."

"Yeah, well find some other way to warn me then," Sirius said. There were two people standing with Dumbledore. Sirius sighed and dredged up his manners. "I'm sorry," he said, "there's a portrait of my mother that decides to rant and rail about my presence in her precious house when she's disturbed. It's not pleasant."

"S'alright," the younger of the two guests said. She was a young witch with bright pink hair, dragon leather pants and bracelets, and a tight Hobgoblins t-shirt.

Sirius smiled. "Nice shirt."

"Thanks," she said. "It's vintage."

Sirius cringed. Fortunately, at that moment Remus came out. "Hello, Kingsley," he said to the other wizard with Dumbledore. "Sirius, are you going to invite everyone in, or should we just congregate on the doorstep?"

This was not going well at all. "Come on in," Sirius said, pulling himself up. "I apologize about the mess, but Remus and I only got here two nights ago, and apparently the house elf-" he couldn't help the sneer on his face when he said it- "has done nothing for the past decade."

Dumbledore frowned just slightly, but let it pass without comment. "Sirius, you might remember Nymphadora Tonks."

"Just Tonks," the young witch insisted, and Sirius blinked. She stuck her hand out. "Wotcher, Sirius. Nice to see you again."

Sirius stared at her. "Last time I saw you you'd just been potty trained and were demanding a chocolate frog for not pooping on the rug."

"And now I'm an Auror. How about that?" Tonks said with a huge grin. She pulled something out of her pocket. "Chocolate frog?"

Sirius couldn't help it; he laughed. He turned expectantly to the other wizard, the one Remus had identified as Kingsley, and a memory flicked on. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, right? You used to date Lily before she wised up and got together with James."

"That's right." Kingsley extended his hand. "I have to admit, this is a bit awkward."

"Why? You and Lily broke up years ago."

"No," Kingsley laughed. "It's just that, well, I'm the Auror that's been in charge of tracking you down."

For a wild moment, Sirius's heart stopped. Then reason reasserted itself and he smiled. "Well, you found me. But please don't bother with the handcuffs."

Kingsley smiled. "It's just that, well, I know a lot more about you than you know about me."

Sirius glanced back at Remus, slightly panicked. Their eyes met and Remus smiled a tiny bit and shook his head an imperceptible amount. Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to Kingsley. "Well, why don’t you all come in and have tea or some gracious thing like that, and we'll see what we can do about putting everyone on an even footing, shall we?"

"Excellent idea, Sirius," Dumbledore said. Although his hands didn't move, Sirius had the feeling they were all being herded to the kitchen. "And as we have tea, we can also discuss the arrival of the rest of the Order. They should be here soon."

Sirius thought of the house having people in it, and being in the thick of the action as plans were made for fighting Voldemort. He burst into a broad grin. "Excellent."

***

The Order had changed a lot since Sirius was in it the first time. For one, most of the members he remembered were dead. There was a cheerful thought. He made a face and focused on the fact that there were new members, many of whom he'd never met.

Or thought he hadn't really met, anyway.

The Weasley family arrived on a Tuesday, red-headed and full of life, noise, and laughter. Sirius liked them immediately, and not just because they meant so much to Harry. He'd never been in the midst of a family like this, and he stood back against the kitchen wall and watched the kids fight and banter and laugh with a wistful sort of smile. Molly shooed them all about with a busy, exasperated affection, and Sirius could easily see why Harry loved her.

But when Arthur came in that night, his face hit Sirius like a three hundred pound Quidditch player on a Firebolt at top speed. Sirius exchanged pleasantries as Molly introduced them, and then sank back towards the fireplace, watching from the outside. Remus looked at him questioningly, but Sirius shook his head.

After dinner, he fled to the library, kicking Kreacher out viscously. His hands were shaking as he paced the room with long angry strides, and eventually he had to transform to a dog, because it was just too much. He jumped up onto the sofa and laid his chin on the arm, whimpering to himself.

The door cracked open, and Sirius heard footsteps. He turned, looked, and curled back up, tucking his nose under his paws. Arthur Weasley entered, looking around. He spotted Sirius on the couch and approached, sitting down next to him.

"Well," he said finally, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his robe. "This is a bit awkward. I'd wondered about that when Dumbledore told us where we were staying. If you want us to work out other arrangements-"

Sirius took a deep breath and transformed back. "No," he said hastily, and then smiled wanly at Arthur's flustered expression. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. I also didn't mean to be so rude. I apologize."

Arthur slipped his glasses back up his robe. "It's quite all right. I was a bit startled myself."

Sirius bit his lip, and then let it burst out. "It was you that sent that Bible to me in Azkaban, right?"

Arthur nodded. "It was such an odd request… not what I expected at all. And it seemed genuine. Molly nearly had my head, but…" he chuckled. "I think she's glad of it now."

"Well, thank you," Sirius forced out.

"Did it help?" Arthur asked sympathetically.

Sirius shook his head. "I thought it would, though, so for that I thank you."

Arthur stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, glad I… glad we've finally met," he said. "I'd better go make sure the twins aren't burning down your house."

"If they can figure out how, they can do so with my blessing," Sirius said, and he watched Arthur leave.

***

"Mr. Black?"

Sirius spat out the sip of wine he'd just taken and began to cough. "What the-?" He looked up, and either Fred or George Weasley stood in front of him, grinning ear to ear.

"Thought that would get your attention."

"Don't you ever do that again!" Sirius said, regaining the ability to breathe.

"Sorry." The boy sat down across from him.

Sirius studied him, and then sighed. "All right. I give up. Which one are you?"

"I'm George."

"Where's Fred?"

"We do exist as separate people, you know," George said, a tad crossly.

"Sorry."

"Tell you what- I'll give you a hint. Fred has a cowlick he can't tame- the hair above his left ear either always sticks up or is always shaved short."

"Got it. Well, George, what do you want?"

"Ron tells me your friends at Hogwarts called you Padfoot."

Sirius grinned. "And Harry tells me you're the ones who gave him the Marauder's Map. What can I do for you, young sir?"

"Oddly enough, not anything like you'd think. I actually have a question about my summer homework."

Sirius grinned. "To hear your mum tell it, you don't do the stuff."

"Yeah, well don't tell her, all right? It will spoil my reputation. But Professor Lupin told me that you were really good at, well, everything, and I had some questions about this Potions stuff."

"Interesting class to pay attention in," Sirius said, pulling the books George put on the table towards him.

"Yeah, well, it serves our purposes," George said with an evil grin. "I'm having some trouble with this one. See, the variation we want to do isn't quite described in the book. And since end result is only supposed to give you a nosebleed, not kill you, well… we want to be sure we know what we're doing before we test it."

"Makes sense." Sirius looked at George's notes, and as he read, his eyebrows raised. "Impressive," he said. "Well, here's the first thing you need to look at." Sirius pointed to a potion. "It's the camellia extract that makes it so potent, especially when combined with this much marjoram. Which, incidentally, is growing in a garden out back, not that I told you that if your mother asks."

"But what about the shrivelfig?" George asked. "We were thinking that if we changed the cut of it from shreds to a mince…"

"Oh, I see. Hmmm. Well, you could…."

They spent a good hour going over the potion. Sirius was frankly impressed, not only with the creativity of the twins but their intelligence. Finally, they reached an alternative potion that Sirius agreed should be safe to try, but he also agreed to stand by in case medical help was needed fast.

"Thanks a lot," George said, sitting back and closing the book. "Fred and I are really hoping to have these done by the beginning of the school year."

"These?" Sirius grinned. "I thought this was homework."

"Applied Potions, shall we say?" George said.

"What's it really for?" Sirius asked, reaching for the bottle of wine and summoning another glass. He refilled his own and poured a glass for George. "Keep in mind that I'm asking as a fellow troublemaker, not as a responsible adult."

George considered him, and then smiled. "Fred and I have this excellent idea," he said. "This line of trick sweets. They'd be double ended. When you eat the first part, you look sick enough to leave class, but when you eat the second part, whatever ailment you've given yourself is cured."

Sirius whistled between his teeth. "I would have loved some of those in school," he said.

"That's what we're hoping." George got serious. "Once we've perfected and tested them, we'd like to start selling them. Get a customer base going."

"Customer base?"

"Fred and I are going to open a joke shop once we leave Hogwarts," George said. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. We've got a lot of stuff made already, and Harry gave us his Triwizard winnings as an investment." George looked Sirius square in the eye. "We intend to see that he triples it, at least."

"You'll have some tough competition with Zonko's."

"We know. But we think we can do it."

Sirius looked at George's books again and nodded. "I'd believe it," he said and sipped his wine.

"What did you want to do?" George asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Before you went to Azkaban. What were you going to do? Like, for a career?"

Sirius fingered his goblet. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the honest interest in George's face, he didn't know. But he heard himself saying, "Well, I'm Catholic."

"Really?" If George was surprised by the seemingly irrelevance of the statement, he didn't show it. "You don't look it. I'd think you'd have a- what do you call them- roses?"

That made Sirius laugh. "Rosary. And I'm sure there is one upstairs in my room. But I never carried it around with me- I'm a Catholic, not a vampire hunter." He took a long sip of wine. "Anyway, I used to be very devout. And, well…" he looked out the window and put his feet up on the chair in front of him, slouching in a deliberate effort to look casual. "I was going to be a priest." He waited for George to laugh, but he didn't. "I know it sounds ludicrous-"

"Not really. The thing about having a reputation is that people can forget you can be anything else."

"Yeah. That's pretty much what I mean, I guess. Anyway, I…" he shook his head. "Very few people in the Order know that about me," he said slowly. "Just Remus, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and I'm guessing Kingsley if he did that much research on me when he was tracking me down. I'd appreciate it if you kept it quiet."

"Harry doesn't know?"

"No."

"Not to be pushy, but why not? It's not like it's something to be ashamed of."

Sirius chewed his lip. "I'm not ashamed of it," he said finally. "But I can't talk about it. When I think about it, it's like…" he shook his head. "I can't talk about it," he finished lamely.

"Oh. Well." George finished his wine. "Listen, would you mind if I asked you any other questions I have? Although I know you don't mind us blowing up the house, Fred and I would prefer to survive our experiments."

"Any time." Sirius smiled as George stood up and left, but his smile faded once he was alone again.

He realized he was going to have to face this sometime.

On to Part 5