Dancing with Wolves - Same Tune (Part 3)
Rating: PG13
Warning: Hints of slash if you squint
Beta: loveangelstar and brighty18. Thank you for not letting my ugly grammar disgrace me. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Summary: A story arc – where Remus learnt that losing self-control did not always make him less human. Each part could be read as a standalone.

Stop it!

He jerked awake, the wolf’s howl still echoing as a depressing lament in his mind. His pyjamas were drenched with perspiration even in the cool autumn night and his breaths still heaved from the strain.

He wiped the sweat away from his brow, trying to rub away the pain hammering into his temple like an ice pick. It was unbearable, the pain and the grief that were cutting through his veins. He threw the blanket off him, sat up, and willed adrenaline to slow its rapid journey in his blood stream.

He hated this weakness. He had lost count of the number of nights he had woken up with the ceaseless howls – the clawing desperation, the painful agony, the insurmountable pain – wailing in canon in his head, seizing his consciousness.

Merlin, all I did was leave home. Not that it was much of a home to begin with.

It hurt.

Sirius laughed bitterly at himself. The loneliness hanging on every note of the wolf’s howl echoed the fear in the deepest recesses of his soul. He went to bed with some dread every night, knowing that each new day brought him closer to the day when he would no longer have the comfort of this small dormitory room and his three closest friends.

Less than two more years in Hogwarts.

Sirius ignored the chill in his bones – he was Sirius Black, the most self assured, cool-minded bastard in Hogwarts, the haughty voice in his head mocked him.

Giving up the battle against his headache, he looked around his room to take his mind off the pain. Peter was snoring softly in the bed just across the room from his. He could not remember how he came to befriend the mousy and easily flappable lad, but he supposed it was difficult not to befriend a roommate, much less one he saw every day for just over five years, He wondered what Peter would do after Hogwarts –

Probably the assistant to the Minister of Magic himself. Wouldn’t that give him a kick.

Sirius had thought that after five years with the Marauders, Peter would have become more confident and sure on his feet, but no, the poor lad remained embarrassingly shy and insecure. While he and James went out of their way to flout the rules and work against the establishment, Peter was an easy follower, content to move along with the tide, so long as nothing could harm the cocoon he kept protectively around himself. The only times he had dared to try flouting the rules were when he was dragged along by James or Sirius.

That’s building character.

He had to admit though, it was rather endearing how Peter worshipped the rest of them. It did some good to his ego definitely, but Peter did, at times, reminded him how it might have been being an older brother.

Sirius turned to James, who was deep in slumber – about the only time anyone would see James stay still. The uncertainty in his heart grew. What would he do without James? His buddy, partner-in-crime and possibly the only friend who could understand but an inkling of the hell he lived in.

He would remain eternally grateful to James for placing the Potter estate at the mercy of the Blacks and risking his family’s substantial standing within the Pureblood community when he turned up unexpectedly at James’ door nearly a year ago. Sirius had made the decision to run away in the heat of the moment without a plan in mind. James’ home was the only place he knew where he would have some hope of holding out against the Black family.

He’d only expected James to let him spend a night while he waited for a reply from his favourite uncle. But was elated when his friend welcomed him for the duration of the hols.

These thoughts of gratitude were interrupted by a soft whimper. Sirius frowned as he turned towards the lad tossing and turning in the bed next to his. The low moan prompted him to get out of bed.

Approaching to his friend’s bed, he regarded Remus with some concern. The sleeping bor was panting from an invisible pain and his fingers were tearing into his blanket. Placing a gentle hand on Remus’ forehead with practised ease, Sirius frowned at the slight temperature

Another one of his wounds must be infected again.

Sirius gave no thought to calling for Madam Pomfrey. It was a familiar occurrence. How many times had he woken up from Remus’ soft cries in the night? The others might sleep like logs, but Sirius was habitually a light sleeper.

Or, rather, he had learned to sleep lightly. Before he entered Hogwarts, house elves used to wake him up with buckets of icy cold water. The only way he could save himself from the torturous treatment was to wake up the instant the apparating house elves appeared.

Rummaging in the dark for the pitcher of water on his bedside table and a towel in his chest of drawers, he returned to Remus’ bedside. He had seen Madam Pomfrey do it often enough to know what his friend needed.

Wetting the towel carefully, he dabbed Remus’ face and neck, wiping away the drops of feverish perspiration. Sirius continued his ministrations until Remus quieted down. Looking out of the window at the waning moon, he stood up to retrieve his wand and for a familiar bottle of salve that Madam Pomfrey had left with him. Casting a spell for a small glowing globe for some light, he came to Remus and sitting on the edge of the bed, he lifted Remus’ arm carefully and rolled the sleeve back to check the wounds.

Finding the wounds were healing nicely, he reached to do the same for the other arm, cursing softly when he saw the angry gash, no doubt the current cause of Remus’ discomfort. Fingering the deep wound gingerly, his brows furrowed with worry – it was one of the deepest wounds he had ever seen on Remus’ and he was surprised that Madam Pomfrey had not bandaged it up during Remus’ monthly visit.

Sirius watched Remus’ face, which was still lined with evidence of distress. He couldn’t recall Remus having such a bad episode for the longest time, but he’d not been with Remus for the last few full moons. Sirius brushed a whiff of guilt aside – he could not bring himself to join Remus, not when the wolf howling in his brain kept reminding him of his own weakness and sorrows.

 It reminded him of an early spring night. Just the evening before a Fifth year had been regaling the younger girls with stories of the Shrieking Shack in the Common Room. Not to be outdone, James had impulsively dared two of the girls, Lendra and Clarice, to walk by the Shack on full-moon night, well knowing that Remus would be there. He had goaded Sirius into going along, and fresh out of his winter ordeal, Sirius had found no room to reject James’ demands.

It was one of the longest nights he’d ever spent. Hearing the wolf that was Remus crying through the night echoed the same grief that he felt within himself was almost too much to bear. The acute loneliness and the cutting desperation for companions resonated within him. That night, he felt for the first time what a stab in the heart could feel like –

- like a blunt knife wrenching its way through the struggling heart bit by agonising bit.

No, he could not bring himself to run with Remus after that night. The throbbing ache would have overwhelmed him.

Sirius forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Cleaning the wound gently with a towel, he applied the salve, watching Remus’ face intently for any signs of pain. Placing the wounded arm by Remus’ side, he shifted closer to his friend, bringing his hand up to brush the damp strands of hair away from the pale face.

It did not occur to Sirius to question his attraction. He was already convinced after that one dance he had with Remus. The waltz haunted his consciousness in the day much like the howling wolf stalked his nights. He could feel his body growing tenser just remembering how the strong lean body felt in his arms – the brush of legs against his, the sinewy back curving into his touch, the hand grasping his shoulder in what seemed like an invitation.

It was only a casual dance.

No, Sirius questioned his feelings. Was it merely attraction? he asked himself, his eyes darting quickly to the wound he’d just helped treat. He thought of Remus and James – if he were queer and really prefered his own gender over the fairer sex, James was easily more conventionally attractive, but he felt nothing of that nature towards James. James was his best friend, his best buddy.

Remus, too, was a close friend, but he was different.

Why?

Sirius knew the answer but it was not in his character to second-guess himself. He caressed Remus’ jawline soothingly, wishing he could take every ounce of the anguish away from his beloved’s features.

Beloved?

He paused at the thought and then smiled. The word felt right on his lips.

Merlin, he is beautiful.

Sirius could hear temptation following on the heels of epiphany. His fingers ghosted over the features he was all too accustomed to, but had suddenly grown so foreign. The long, brown lashes brushing over eyes Sirius knew to be a deep thoughtful amber, the pale cheeks that coloured at the slightest joke, the dry lips that parted invitingly. He could not help but follow a path down the gentle curve of Remus’ neck, and adrenaline began to build anew.

 He remembered the soft scent of the woods and imagined sinking his teeth into that soft flesh, making the sleeping owner his.

Against his better senses, Sirius gave in to the almost desperate need for a whiff of the woods. Making sure that his friend was still asleep, he threw caution to the wind, leaned down, and kissed Remus’ neck, breathing in the sweet scent.

Mine.

Sirius grinned, even as he brushed his nose against Remus’ jawline and then planted a soft, parting kiss on Remus’ forehead, before reluctantly tearing himself away.

He returned to his bed, nightmare forgotten and his last thought before slumber –

I just have to tell him so.
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Remus ducked into the hidden corridor and slipped into the cover of darkness. A sardonic smile briefly crossed his features before giving way to melancholy. It was bitterly ironic – memories of the wonderful time he spent with the Marauders stayed as fresh as the routes and tunnels they discovered.

The hidden passages now provided him solace from the anguish of lost companionship.

The torment had become worse in the last two weeks. It had been twelve days since Headmaster Dumbledore announced the Halloween Ball and each day since had been creeping by torturously slowly. There was no room where he could hide from talk about the Ball –

- which he knew he could not be part of.

Remus chuckled softly. Even if he could be, he had no keen desire to be in any gathering of such magnitude. That Halloween fell only a day after full moon this year was his only excuse to escape the crowd – it was, after al,l rather difficult, convincing Madam Pomfrey to let him out of the healing wing after a Transformation.

No, loneliness might be weaving a barbed web around his heart, painfully reminding him with each beat that he was isolated from all the chatter and bustle over the Ball, but something else chipped at his sanity.

It had been eleven days since he had danced a simple waltz with Sirius – eleven days, and he was still spiraling too rapidly in a downward spiral into lunacy. Eleven days, and he had thought of little else but Sirius’ arm around him, Sirius’ scent playing in his nostrils, Sirius’ body flushed against his – and most of all – the feral need to sink his teeth into Sirius’ neck before him.

Mine.

Remus blanched, raising a hand to brace against the wall.

Eleven days and he was still fighting tooth and nail against the wolf that loomed in his consciousness, subverting his rational human mind. He no longer knew where the beast ended and where the human began – there was no answer in the scrolls, the books and the treasury of thought.

Mine.

He was a beast – Merlin and Morgan, he was thinking of sinking his teeth into his best friend! He could not be sure that he could remain sane. He had no faith that he could hold the wolf in reins any longer – at least, not in the presence of Sirius.

He was so terribly tired – Remus could barely think, as he stumbled down the corridor, eager to get back to his dormitory room before he collapsed. It was too exhausting, staying up each night to rewrite the homework he had already perfected five times over, just to wait for Sirius to fall asleep before retruning to the room. Too tiring, forcing himself to wake up before Sirius did to hide in the Restricted Section, reading scrolls that were at least a decade more advanced than the N.E.W.Ts.

He would have crumpled completely had Professor Dumbledore not given him that one tiny proverbial sliver of light in the tumultuous storm but seven days ago.

//”It cannot cure, Remus,” Professor Dumbledore said, his heart aching at the glimmer of hope in the young lad’s eyes. This child, he knew, had lived through more darkness than most adults twice his age. “The Austrians are only beginning to try the concoction out. It is still in the early stages and they are not certain if it would work.”

Remus merely chewed on his lower lip with nervous anticipation, before whispering, half afraid that words would devastate everything, “But if it works, I will be able to remain conscious and rational through the Transformation?”

“If it works,” Dumbledore replied. He pitied the child, an extremely bright and handsome boy whose path in life would be beset with storms and upheavals for a fault that was not his own. Without lycanthropy, he had no doubt that the boy could have become one of the greatest wizards – such ease he had with his Charms and spells, such dexterity he exhibited in mental acrobatics and such charisma had had with peers.

But Dumbledore also frequently wondered: would the boy be quite the way he was now had he not been a werewolf? Perhaps he would have just been a normal child, contented to ride along with the tide, never finding the need to rise above his classmates.

Our wills and fates do so contrary run, that our devices still are overthrown, Dumbledore recalled from an ancient Muggle text. Fate often ran in strange ways, unfathomable to man.  

“But there is a chance it can work,” Remus closed his eyes, willing himself to temper that sense of optimism that threatened to claw his heart open.

He had learnt at age nine that not only did tears not change anything, they broke his parents’ hearts. He had cried for the last time at age ten when his grandmother died, never quite having forgiven herself for not standing in front of the young boy when the werewolf attacked. He could not shed a tear when his parents told him that they would have to lock him up in the drafty cellar once every month and he did not weep when he was told he should stay away from his friends just in case he spread his disease. He did not even cry when, at long last, he learnt he could be among his peers and when Professor Dumbledore accepted a werewolf through the gates of Hogwarts.

He could however feel the tears threatening to break the dam he had so carefully constructed over the last few years.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied kindly. “They sent me a sample after I suggested testing the effects of the new medicine.”

“There are risks,” Remus said matter-of-factly.

“There always are. They do not know what side effects the concoction could have yet, and they are not even certain that the concoction would work. It is a potion made purely from theoretical assumptions.”
“You know and I will take any risk,” Remus said, finally meeting Dumbledore’s eyes, with weight far beyond his years hanging on each word. “I’ll give anything to control the Transformation.”

“I know,” Dumbledore replied solemnly. Keen to break the palpable tension in the room, he placed a companionable hand on the lad’s shoulder and commented lightly, “And if it works well this month, you won’t have to spend the Halloween Ball in the healing wing.”

Remus’ eyes widened. He was rather counting on sleeping the Ball out – it was the only thing worth being a werewolf for.

Remus’ dismay did not escape Dumbledore, who narrowed his eyes on the suddenly apprehensive pupil.
“Remus Lupin,” Dumbledore drawled out meaningfully. “Do I have to make attendance at the Ball compulsory?”//

There was hope, Remus thought, as he walked up the stairs to his dormitory room. Perhaps this new potion would put a stop to this madness. He would even put up with the insanity of a crowd for that one evening if the medicine would give him better control of the beast within.

Until then, he was glad for the time alone. His roommates should be away at the Care for Magical Creatures class and he wondered if he could afford to take a short nap before they returned.

His hopes were however dashed when he opened the door only to find Sirius and James lounging on the floor with a chessboard between them. He could feel his heart plunge when he caught the anticipatory gleam in Sirius’ eyes and he knew he was in trouble the moment he heard both James and Sirius say, “Finally.”
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“Finally,” James muttered. He had been in a pique for the last fifteen minutes wondering if Remus would show up – it was impossible getting Remus alone just so he could settle his doubts once and for all.

That Remus skipped the Potions class yesterday just because the Marauders were in the same project group was the absolute last straw. Remus Lupin did not skip classes. It was as unfathomable as he turning up at History of Magic classes.

Sirius had a completely different reason for wanting Remus alone, but that could wait. Denying Remus the barest avenue for escape, he waved Remus in, “Come on in. You do recognise your own room, don’t you?”
Remus pointedly ignored Sirius, but knowing he could not well back out of the room, he braced himself and entered, reluctantly closing the door behind him. His steps were heavy when he walked past James to his bed.

“You are supposed to be in class.”

“You can book us, Prefect, but you will have to confess to skipping Potions yesterday, too,” James smirked. It was not often that he had a bargaining chip with Remus. “And forget Madam Pomfrey’s letter. You were obviously well enough for Arithmancy in the next period.”

“I have the letter,” Remus replied nonchalantly. “What is your excuse?”

“He’s rather ill, too,” Sirius said on James’ behalf, gesturing Remus to come sit next to them. He felt the slightest itch of annoyance as Remus continued to avoid looking at him, but it was after all a rather encouraging sign.

Cute.

Sirius took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing the skeptical Remus, who raised an eyebrow at James’ supposed illness. Leaning against his bed frame lazily, he contented himself with looking at Remus. There would be time later for his questions.

“Love-sick,” Sirius amended.

“Shut up, Padfoot,” James shot a dirty glare in Sirius’ direction.

Remus rolled his eyes, before slumping against his bedpost. He would have given anything to get some rest, but he knew sleep would continue toelude him. He could hardly breathe – Sirius’ unique musk was sending his head spinning.

Sirius resisted the impulse to walk over to Remus’ bed and coax his obviously tired friend to sleep. What was he doing, working so much harder than he had to? He was running himself down to the bone, Sirius griped.

Patience, Sirius, wait this out.

Sirius rarely listened to that voice of caution in his head, but now he did. Nipping the impending quarrel with James in the bud, he went straight to the point, “ You see, Remus, James Potter here desperately needs to know if you are interested in Lily because he has finally come to his senses and admitted that he is very smitten. Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel right asking Lily to the Ball if it means betraying his friend.”

“Well done, Padfoot. You are an incredible diplomat,” James cursed, not daring to look at Remus. “Couldn’t you put it more delicately?!”

Remus stared uncomprehendingly at James and then finally at Sirius, when it was obvious that James was all too keen to avoid looking at him. He was having a bit of trouble stringing the sentence coherently in his sleep-deprived head.

Surely he misunderstood?

Remus’ eyes widened as he struggled to speak, but in the end, he only managed to sputter, “I’m sorry?”

Sirius grinned, feeling inexplicably gleeful as he replied, “Simply, are you dating Lily?”

Remus blinked. He could already feel adrenaline pushing his blood pressure skywards.

Remus blinked again.

Remus took a deep breath and bellowed at James, “Whatever gave you the idea?!”

James visibly cowered, covering his head with his arms. Remus hardly ever raised his voice, much less lose his temper. He mumbled, “You are always spending time with her...”

His voice trailed off weakly as Remus growled, “That’s because she studies! Do you know how difficult it is to find a student who studies?!”

“Ravenclaws,” Sirius chirped in helpfully, strangely delighting at the icy glare Remus turned on him. It had been a long time since he had seen Remus this spirited.

“Sirius Ignatius Black, if you do not shut up this very instant, I shall personally dangle you outside the window,” Remus ground his teeth and reached for his wand, pointing menacingly at the offending youth. He did not feel even an ounce of amusement when Sirius cheekily morphed into dog and very obediently, lay down to watch the unfolding tirade. He most certainly did not find the entire exchange amusing.

Blustering idiots.

Remus found renewed strength as he leaned out from his bed to knock James on the head with his wand. “Of all the inanity your limited brain could come up with. Every clown and his best friend could have told you that it is ridiculously obvious that you and Lily have been dancing around each other for, I don’t know, the last five years or so. Are you on drugs or just plain retarded?”

“Don’t use me as your excuse, Potter,” Remus interrupted James before the latter could even attempt to defend himself. “Your pride is getting between your knees and the floor. You know well enough that you’ll have to go crawl at her feet begging forgiveness for all the callous remarks you have made over the years and it is just convenient using me as a reason not to.”

“I wasn’t...” James tried to get a word in edgewise but Remus was on a roll.

“Lily is a friend and a very good one at that. I am not even certain if you deserve her, imbecilic and insensitive brute that you are. She went out of her way to design banners and rally the lower years to cheer the Gryffindor team on during the game against the Claws, and what did you do? You announced to half the field that you won’t be caught dead with her! And...”

“For the last time, I did not say that! And she started that fight. Which cheerleader would call her team captain a moron through the loud hailer during the game?! All I did was take a tackle and it was a tactical move. Not that she understands the game. We scored after that, didn’t we? It’s not my fault she has a temper... ARGH!”
James felt his tie tightening like a noose round his neck as it attempted to lift him off the ground. His eyes bulged helplessly at Remus, frantically gesticulating at his friend to let him down. Remus left him dangling for a few seconds before deigning to release the spell.

“Fool of a twit. You allowed yourself to be taken out by two huge brutes, fell off your broom, plummeted down from a height and just when everyone thought you would be smashed into a pulp, you caught your broom and went on to score. Ego trip wasn’t it? I don’t suppose you would have given thought to people who care, would you?” Remus pointed his wand at James, itching to strangle his erstwhile friend. He had been standing next to Lily and Sirius during the game and they had their wands whipped out in a flurry then.

He may be more useful as a bloody pulp.

James was about to curse at the abuse when his mind went blank. “She cares?”

Remus was surprised he was not ballistic. “You dim-witted moron! Do you think she’d put up with the kind of nonsense you have been tossing her way if she doesn’t? I can’t believing I am sharing the same air as you are,” he rolled his eyes at the giddily happy James, half tempted to empty the jug of water on Sirius’ bedside table over the hapless fool.

“I never knew she cares. I mean, I care, but I always thought, you know, I care, but she doesn’t. You know I care,” James babbled.

Remus pointed his wand at the door and opening it, he glared at the stuttering youth on the floor, “Save your excuses and do your begging in the study room next to the Hall. Foul this up, Potter, and I shall personally see to it that you will never have a restful night in Hogwarts for the rest of your stay.”

James looked quizzically at Remus, his brain still stunned with the newest revelation. Remus had no patience with idiocy and especially not when he had been riled, “What are you waiting for? A red carpet? Remove yourself.”

James grinned, and ruffling Sirius on his head, bounced up and out of the room. Just before he left, he turned back to Remus and said, “Thank you! I won’t screw up, I won’t.”

Remus raised an imperious eyebrow, waved his wand and slammed the door shut in James’ face. However, as his temper cooled and exhaustion began to creep back round the edges of his consciousness, it suddenly occurred to him why he should never lose his temper and act without prior thought.

He had just orchestrated the one circumstance he had been avoiding for nearly two weeks.
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Sirius had been waiting for this moment for the longest time and now that he finally had Remus to himself, he refused to wait any longer. His patience had never been anything approaching stellar. Moving closer to Remus, he nudged the chessboard closer to his companion, his intent obvious.

Remus looked at the huge dog that he knew to be Sirius and shook his head. He was beginning to feel the tinge of desperation, as the memories of the dance with Sirius clouded his mind. He could still pick out Sirius’ scent even in his current form, and he shivered slightly when the dog nudged against his knee.

“I am not playing chess with you,” Remus said, more calmly than he felt, He would have tried to move, but the devious dog had lain down with its head heavily on his feet. “Puppy eyes won’t work, Padfoot.”

Sirius whined.

“Sirius Ignatius Black. This is underhanded.”

Sirius bumped playfully against Remus’ legs.

“Stop that.”

Sirius rose to his considerable height and planted his forepaws on Remus’ lap, causing the other to jump.

“Don’t!” Remus surrendered as Sirius threatened to lick his face. “Fine, one game. One quick game. There is Charms class in a while.”

Sirius grinned, morphing back quickly, with his nose just barely a breath away from Remus. Remus’ breath hitched and he attempted to back away but Sirius’ hands on his thighs burned like a branding iron against flesh, holding him in place.

“Get off me, Padfoot,” Remus whispered, his throat suddenly dry and voice raspy. The scent was driving him insane as he fought the urge to bite into the flesh so easily offered to him.

The fear radiating from Remus was so palpable, Sirius almost complied. But his better senses were not at work – all he could see were the brown lashes fluttering close, the rosey blush beginning to dust across the angular cheeks, and the pale lips parting in a desperate attempt to gasp for air. He could feel the taut muscles beneath his fingers quivering, the warm breaths against his ear and the hands pushing weakly against his chest.
He could smell the woods – he was fast discovering that he had a fatal weakness for Remus’ fresh scent – he abandoned all sensible thought altogether, all the best laid plans –

- and leaned in to the scent. Brushing his nose against Remus’ ear, he whispered, “Why?”

Mine.

The voice nearly shouted in Remus’ mind, as Sirius’ throat nearly - just nearly- brushed against his lips, taunting him. Remus closed his eyes in a frantic attempt to block out the sight of the white flesh and his desire, but it merely heightened his consciousness of the sweet intoxicating musk of the other boy’s nearness.

“Padfoot. Please,” Remus fairly pleaded. He did not think he could rein in his baser instincts any longer. The wolf was becoming more insistent – he wanted a taste of flesh.

Remus’ wispy plea only eroded the barest remnants of Sirius’ reserve and caution. He planted a kiss against Remus’ jaw, before whispering again, “Why?”

“Padfoot,” Remus quivered at the touch.

So close.

Sirius had no intention of backing away, not when he was certain the attraction was mutual. Remus was more than capable of fighting him off if he had really wanted to. His wand was within reach after all.

Remus gave in – the desire was too strong to deny. Reaching blindly to grasp Sirius’ shoulders, he sank his teeth into the exposed neck. Holding the flesh tightly between his teeth, he ran his tongue over it, finally satisfying the overwhelming need. The slight hint of salt only fueled his appetite for more and he unconsciously drew more flesh into his mouth, gently sucking in the taste.

Of all the responses he had expected, Sirius did not expect this, but he happily indulged Remus, tilting his head to allow the other free access. Moving his hands away from Remus; lap, he braced himself on one hand by Remus’ side and lifted the other hand to comb through Remus’ messy locks.

The touch startled Remus and his senses came flooding back along with crushing horror. Pushing harder against Sirius, he managed to pull some distance away till he could see Sirius face-to-face. Anger burnt as strongly as his self-directed revulsion as he snarled, “Do you always have to play with fire?”

Digging his fingers into Sirius’ chest, he growled, “Do you even know what you are playing about, Sirius Black?”

Before Sirius could clear his lust-fogged brain, Remus clenched his fists, balling up Sirius’ robes and cursed, “You do not play with a beast and expect to get away with it.”

Sirius had been taken aback, but now his eyes narrowed with a keen anger of his own. Resisting the hard shove, he clutched Remus’ hair in his fist and replied with his eyes coolly meeting Remus’ fiery glare, “I am not playing.”

Tugging the hair back, just enough to hurt, he bit out, “And you forget yourself. I have no interest in beasts, only in Remus Lupin, perfectly human.”

“Perfectly human,” Remus repeated with hollow scorn. “I am a werewolf, Black. What human do you know turns into a wolf every full moon? What human do you know thinks, walks and dreams like a wolf. Get off me.”

“So you turn into a wolf once a month, I turn into a dog any time I want, and that makes you more beast than I?” Sirius retorted, glad, yet again, for the benefit of height and position. It was already taking all his body weight to fight against Remus’ efforts to push him off.

“Do you feel like sinking your teeth into flesh? Human flesh?” Remus laughed bitterly, resisting the urge to slash his fingers across the handsome face before him. The mark on Sirius’ throat stared back at him and he knew that it would forever haunt him. “All I can think of at this moment is the scent of your blood and biting into your throat. Each moment you spend closer to me, the yearning grows stronger.”

Sirius remained still, drawing on the well of patience he never knew he had. He was beginning to understand Remus a tad more, even if every bit he learnt made him more skeptical about Remus’ much lauded intellect.
 “Do you have a death wish?” Remus chuckled, a low ominous growl from the back of his throat. “Do you not see? I can’t control the wolf in me any more. I am longing for the taste of blood. The taste of your blood. My best friend. Is that human?”

Tears were welling up in his eyes. He already yearned for the companion he was certain he had lost –his first real friend, and his best friend. “Stay away from me, Sirius Black, if you know what is good for you.”

Merlin. I give up.

“No,” Sirius said shortly, not even deigning to roll his eyes. He waited until Remus’ amber eyes looked up mutinously into his own. Ignoring the strange ache in his heart, he held on firmly to the dark wells of pain and grief as he raised his eyebrows and questioned. “I don’t see you running away from Lily.”

“For crying out loud, stop putting Lily and I together!” Remus rebutted. What happened to Platonic friendship? He did not recall having anyone questioning his relationship with Lily before the madness of puberty began.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “She’s been your dance partner since time immemorial.”

“What has that have to do with anything?” Remus swore, his rare temper momentarily overshadowing his discomfort. “I do not plan on sullying her with my bestial presence if that is what will set your mind at ease.”

“We shall leave that to later, Lupin,” Sirius scowled, “But now, for all the times she has been close to you, I don’t suppose you feel the need to bite Lily, do you?”

“What the hell are you...” Remus’ indignant protest was quickly overtaken by bewilderment. That was right, he never felt the same urge,

Taking advantage of Remus’ momentary confusion, Sirius continued, his bemused exasperation clear in his voice. “I thought so. Now tell me, there are easily two other possible prey in this room and I don’t see you have the same problem with them?”

Remus had no reply. Wolves do not differentiate between prey.

“I hope not. James is considered rather tasty, though for the love of me, I shall never understand why,” Sirius said. Drawing himself to his full height, he towered over Remus. He raised his hands to cup his friend’s face and asked quietly, “Do I alone scare you, Remus?”

“I dream of the taste of your flesh,” Remus whispered, his anger slowly smothered by renewed self-loathing. He looked up at Sirius, and saw the same understanding, the same fearless friendship – and he wondered if he would be forced to leave the one friend whom meant the world to him. He raised his hand to touch the mark he had left on Sirius throat. “You don’t scare me, Padfoot. I scare myself. I tried fighting, I tried but it is so tiring. I smell your blood before I see you and every time I do, I am this much closer on the edge of insanity.”
Tears that he had forgotten he had welled up in his eyes as he sought for forgiveness in Sirius’ and murmured, “I am not myself anymore am I?”

“No,” Sirius smiled and replied softly, “Neither am I. You see. I have spent a better part of the last two weeks, thinking pretty much along the same lines.”

Sirius ran his fingers along the ridges of Remus’ ears, wiping the few tears away with his thumbs. Slipping off the bed, he held Remus face such that their noses touch to get the latter’s full attention, “It’s called lust, Moony. It doesn’t make you any more bestial than the rest of us.”

Searching the watery eyes to see if he had managed to drive the point across, he continued, “Every night, as you sleep quietly in this bed next to mine, I go slowly out of my mind thinking of your scent. Do you know you smell so much of the woods? I dream of marking you, biting into your throat, combing my fingers across your skin.”

Sirius caught Remus’ stray locks between his fingers. “And now that I know for a fact that you wish for the same, I would do more than that, but there will be a time for it later.”

Remus looked at Sirius through his tears, his confusion evident. His fingers still lingered on his teeth mark, the glaring scar marring Sirius’ throat.

Sirius sighed. Planting a kiss on Remus’ forehead, Sirius spoke in the serious tone that no others from that point on would ever hear from his lips, “Stop that brain of yours, Remus. Don’t make it more difficult for yourself than it already is. You are not that different from everyone else.”

Slipping his arms around Remus’ waist, he smiled sympathetically, “We are all in the gutter, Moony, but some of us look at the stars.”

Looking deep into the depths of his friend’s eyes, he coaxed, “Look at the stars with me, Moony. Don’t dwell only on the full moon and the surrounding night. The wolf had spoilt the full moon nights for you – don’t let it ruin your days, too.”

“Lust?” Remus said softly.
“Lust. Trust me, I am no werewolf, and I am still thinking of a million things I can do to you in this bed,” Sirius confirmed and rested his head against Remus’ chest, listening to the quick throbbing of Remus’ heart.

“Why only you?”

Sirius snickered as he looked up at Remus.

Trust this adorable genius to ask such a question so seriously.

“Moony, I am not going to look at the gift horse in the mouth. I am more than delighted, relieved, honoured even, that you lust after just me,” Sirius replied honestly, causing the beginnings of a blush to come across Remus’ cheeks. “I can even hope that it is not just lust, because Merlin knows, you are the only person I have ever loved.”

Remus’ blush spread to the rest of him as he registered Sirius’ words. He had never heard Sirius quite say anything quite so seriously before – as though he meant it. Did he?

Sirius has never lied to me.

Remus wet his lips. Sad resignation still warred with the sudden relief, the sliver of hope and the faintest echo of happiness. His fingers lingered over the glaring reminder of the damage he could possibly do, and he suddenly needed to know.

“I can still make you a werewolf,” he blurted out.

Sirius chuckled. “Not in between full moons, Moony. Haven’t you read Professor Aledric’s book on werewolves?” He took heart at the shadow of humour in Remus’ eyes. “I read up everything I could on werewolves ever since I knew about you. Professor Quinley must have been completely overcome with ecstasy thinking that I was working on my Defense against the Dark Arts term paper. I read everything – even the journals, all of which I am quite certain you have read, too. You are no different from any other wizard, Remus, except that you turn into a wolf once a month against your will.”

Sirius leaned to kiss Remus’ temple, slowly moving down Remus’ jawline. Darting his tongue just briefly into the latter’s ear, he raised his eyes, already smoky from an unspoken desire, to glimpse the dazed, uncertain glimmer in Remus’ and murmured, “You are just different to Sirius Black.”

Just to prove a point, he dipped further and sank his teeth into the sensitive skin just where neck met shoulder. Remus gasped at the sudden contact, but weak from exhaustion and the slow relief circling at the perimeters of his mind, he did not resist. He moaned, a foreign sound from his throat, feeling his heart pound an incessant beat as Sirius’ teeth tugged at his skin. He raised his arms to encircle Sirius, denying the shreds of rationality that yelled for him to push Sirius away.

“Mine,” Remus whispered unconsciously.

Sirius halted abruptly. Before Remus’ mind could even register the horror of having spoken aloud, Sirius smirked and bit Remus’ nose tenderly, “Nope. Mine.”

Chuckling at Remus’ shock – he was always amused by this deer-in-the-headlights look – Sirius touched his forehead to Remus’ and asked, “May I?”

When Remus merely raised an eyebrow at him, Sirius grinned and bent to kiss Remus fully on the lips.
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James stood at the doorway not quite knowing how to respond. Should he let them know he was there? But then again, he had slammed the door open and still they remained pretty much preoccupied.

Merlin, I didn’t know guys could kiss like that.

Lily pulled James out of the room, and closing the door quietly, she looked at the flustered James with self-gratified glee. Stretching an open palm she demanded, “You owe me five knuts.”

James blinked and then groaned. He had forgotten about the bet he had with Lily some months back. Still, he was a gentleman who always honoured his wagers. Digging into his robe pockets for change, he gave Lily a pained look, “How on earth did you figure that one out? I share a room with them for Morgan’s sake”

“Female intuition,” Lily smirked as her palm closed over he newly won coins. “Besides, isn’t it obvious? Why else do you think there is a bet on who scores Sirius for the Ball?”

“Wait, it is obvious and girls are still trying to date Sirius?” James walked down the stairs gingerly holding Lily’s hand. The sensation was still very much foreign to him – not that it was unwelcome.

“No, silly. No one expects to score Sirius, they are just trying their best to find out if he has given up on females altogether,” Lily grinned. Remus had looked completely lost and despondent since the whole furor over the Ball started and she was rather worried that the bet over Sirius had been the cause. No matter now, obviously Sirius was doing well making it up to him.

Remus could do with more happiness.

“And how long has everyone known this?” James asked. The female mind never failed to perplex him. Never mind the fact that their way of finding out Sirius’ true affections was rather convoluted, but how on earth was this, well, this thing, between Sirius and Remus common knowledge? He shared a room with them for crying out loud.

Hellfire and damnation, I will be sharing the room with them!

“Didn’t Sirius leave home because of Remus? The whole school was abuzz over that!” Lily continued, not noticing the look of abject horror on James’ face. “Like honestly, you guys....”
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Remus’ exhaustion could no longer be denied. Resting heavily against Sirius, he pointed out sleepily, “I’ll warn you again. You made the choice to keep a wolf by your side.”

Sirius tugged at Remus’ ear, his system still humming from the heady taste of Remus fresh on his tongue. “For the last time, you are just as human as I am.”

“Debatable, but not what I meant, Padfoot,” Remus yawned and burrowed his head against Sirius’ shoulder, lulled by the warmth and comfort, before slurring, “Wolves mate for life.”

Sirius paused.

Hugging Remus closer to him in the next instant, he grinned, “That is just fine. I am a Black whether or not I like it.”

Remus opened his eyes slightly to look at Sirius quizzically and laughed quietly when the latter replied, “Blacks don’t like to share either.” .

TBC

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