It's October 31, 1981, and Sirius is standing in front of Remus' apartment building with his hands shoved into his pockets. The street is industrial grey, bare of trees or grass or anything that would tell the passing of the seasons He tries to ignore the sudden chill in the air, but as the wind twists his light jacket around him, he shivers.

He and Remus have argued again. Although, it's not truly an "again" because this time things were said that had never been said before.

Like when Sirius said: "I see Snape running in and out of here every week. He's a Deatheater, Moony. What the fuck are you doing?"

And when Remus had said: "I can't tell you."

"Oh, that's reassuring."

"Reassuring or not, it's all I can say. Have some faith in me."

"Give me something to base faith on!"

And Remus had paused before saying, coldly: "I'd like you to leave now."

Now, Sirius is standing in front of Remus' building, wondering what to do next. He has this choice in front of him: does he hop on his bike and head off to a bar to get drunk? Does he turn around, go back in, and confront Remus again? Or does he turn around, go back in, and tell Remus how sorry his, how he'll believe in Remus until the world turns to dust, how he only worries too much because he still cares too much?

Sirius knows that usually he'd pick the first option. It's what he always does after big fights: runs off to some tiny, anonymous bar and gets drunk with strangers who have never seen him before and who, if asked, would never be able to say for certain that he was there.

This time, however, Sirius ignores his bike and walks back into the building. He waits for the elevator by himself in the cheesy, daffodil-coloured lobby with its worn carpet, and when the elevator arrives, he gets in and presses the 7th-button.

The hallway on the 7th floor is painted the same light yellow, and the carpet is the same thready, ugly magenta. Sirius ignores its blaring poverty as he has every time he's visited. He knocks on Remus' door and waits.

The door opens a crack, held half-closed by a chain. One of Remus' honey-brown eyes looks out and then narrows when he spots Sirius.

"I told you to leave," he says in his soft, angry voice.

Sirius shoves his hands back into his pockets and nods. "I know. I did. Now I'm back, and I think we should talk."

"Talk?" Remus laughs hoarsely. "Last time you wanted to talk, you managed to accuse me of betraying everyone and having sex with Snape all in one breath. I really don't have anything I want to say to you."

The door begins to close. Sirius whips a hand out of his pocket in lightning urgency and catches it.

"Good! That's good. I'll talk. All you have to do is listen." Remus' eye doesn't seem convinced; the eyebrow is still bent angrily over it. "Please, Moony."

Remus considers for a moment. Then, he disappears, and Sirius hears the chain pulled out of its catch and Remus' footsteps padding back into the apartment. The door is left open for Sirius to enter or leave. Sirius, of course, enters, pulling the door tightly closed behind him.

Remus has sat down in on the droopy, green couch when Sirius turns from the door and is waiting patiently, eyes inscrutable but lips set in a thin line that says: talk, make excuses, make me believe them.

Sirius takes a breath and cards his hair roughly. He hasn't thought this far yet. He isn't quite sure what to say. Best to start with the basics: "Look, Remus, I'm sorry. I was way out of line before."

Remus shrugs, purposefully unhelpful.

"I know," Sirius says, looking around the room for guidance. "I was. I know you haven't betrayed us. You're as likely to turn traitor as Pet--" No, Sirius pauses; he doesn't want to make that comparison. "You'd never. I know."

"Good for you," Remus says, still not pleased.

"And that thing about Snape," Sirius continues desperately because he knows, more than he knows that Remus would never betray them, he knows that he has to convince Remus to forgive him. "I didn't mean that at all. I just don't understand," he raises his hand to cut off Remus' interjection. "And I don't want you to explain. Ok? I'm ok with it, I guess. If you want to sleep with Snape, that's totally your prerogative. And I'll be supportive 'cause I'm your friend and stuff…" He trails off and looks at Remus who looks a bit cross-eyed at the spew of exposition.

Then Remus begins to laugh, and Sirius relaxes.

"You really should have stopped while you were ahead," he says, brushing hair off his face and suppressing another little chuckle. "Now, sit down and shut up. Do you want some tea?"

Sirius shakes his head "no," and sits down beside Remus.

"So, I'm forgiven?"

Remus smirks. "I suppose so. Although, you realize I am not sleeping with Severus, don't you?"

"I'd kind of hoped so," Sirius agrees.

"So why did you say it? Twice, for that matter."

Sirius rolls his eyes in a way that suggests the answer should have been obvious. "Because I'd hoped so. I didn't know so, and I really, really shouldn't have said it. It's none of my business who you sleep with."

Remus leans back against the collapsing frame of the couch and shades his eyes with a hand. "Mmm… It used to be."

"It hasn't been since sixth year."

"No, it hasn't."

They fall into silence, until Sirius feels collected enough to speak again. "Not for lack of trying, on my part." He shifts his hand so it rests next to Remus, side-by-side with their pinkies brushing.

Remus twitches at the gesture and then moves, quickly, oddly catlike for a wolf, and he wraps his long fingers in fabric of Sirius jacket. Their faces are close together, and Sirius watches light play through Remus eyes.

"I know," he says before bringing their lips together.

It's a remembering kiss, soft and tentative. Sirius upper lip is sandwiched between Remus', and they move slowly, methodically: first mixing breath, then tasting lips, then touching tongue. Shuddering, pulling away, joining again. Over and over, in rhythm.

Sirius pulls back first, smiling and brushing away the hair that has once again fallen across Remus' forehead.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

Remus looks up, unsmiling but so sincere. "You better."

---

They lie together, in curled warmth and quiet breathing, until the Aurors arrive in the early morning to arrest Sirius for assisting in the murders of James and Lily Potter. But, Remus tells them, blushing and wrapping his fingers around Sirius', that Sirius has been with him all night, and Sirius admits, coolly, that Peter was made secret-keeper in the end.

And, when the door is closed, they cry and mourn, both aware that, no matter how much the empty aches tear their insides, the pain is less because they are not alone.

Finally, Remus leans into Sirius' chest and sighs, shaking. "I can't believe it."

"We still have Harry," Sirius whispers, watching their fingers twist together until the hands seem to loose all meaning as separate things and simply become one unit. Inseparable. Forever.

---

His hand is worn and rough now, caked with the dust and blackened by the dirt of the cell floor. Underneath the skin is pale from day after endless day without sunlight, or moonlight.

Sirius knows now that what never happened could fill a lifetime. That what never happened could have sewn up his split, bleeding heart. Could wipe away the tears he thinks he can hear in the distance.

He sits in the cell of Azkaban day after endless day and mourns the loss of something that never existed, knowing full well that if he'd only turned around, gone back into the building and apologized rather than riding off to drink, that life might have been.