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StarFall, Moonset	By : IrishLeFay Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1266 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: Don�t own them, if I
did I wouldn�t be a poor college student

Starfall, Moonset

Chapter Six:

Not Enough

By: Irish

Sirius was spending the day the way he always spent his day,
lounging inside on the couch that was still doubling as Remus�s bed, reading a
book. He was getting bloody sick of reading, but Remus didn�t have a whole lot
of other options for entertainment. The muggle radio had fascinated him for
several days� but it didn�t talk back when he asked it questions, so now his
days were spent following a patch of sun about the living room. Sometimes he
popped into Padfoot to better enjoy the sun or to slip outside and get a little
exercise, but even swimming in the pond was gng ong old, then again, it wasn�t
Azkaban, how bad could it be?

Today had been just like any other in this last week. Remus
left before dawn to help a neighboring farmer take in his crops. It was
harvesting season, and for once Remus had no problem finding muggle work, and
muggle work paid the bills just as well as Wizarding jobs. Sirius had wakened
much later and had fed the hippogriff, and mucked out its stall, promising a
romp later that evening, then had taken a bath. After dressing in clothes three
sizes too big and a decade out of style he ate the muffins and fruit Remus had
lain out for his breakfast with a note detailing what farm he would be at, from
what time until what time, any errands he had to run, and what time he would be
home. Some times there were instructions on what leftovers he was to reheat for
lunch and how he was to do it, or something he was to start for dinner. Sirius
really didn�t mind the detailed instructions; he knew it was Remus�s way of
showing affection, having all the details taken care of so Sirius didn�t have
to worry.

He wasn�t expecting Remus home until after dark, in fact
there had been a gentle request for Sirius to cook dinner, if he didn�t mind
terribly, in a postscript to today�s note. Sirius had settled in for another
long boring day, and a tense awkward evening, the routine that the two of them
had so easily fallen into, dancing around the shards of their former lives.

He had started to doze off over the book, his head drooping,
and his silhouette in relief on the floor when the door flew open with a
bang.

�Bloody Hell Remus!�

�Sirius!� Remus stood in the doorway of the cottage, hands
braced on either side, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath; he had
obviously run some distance. �Sirius, dementors!�

Sirius froze, just plain froze, to the spot, fear rooting
him. Remus bent double trying to catch his breath yet, and Sirius wondered
vaguely how far the man had run.

�Wh-what do we do?� His brain was stuck in neutral.

�Shift�. to Padfoot�. I have� a place�.� Remus wheezed
striding to the couch and grabbing Sirius by the arm hauling him to the magic
door. �Stable!� Remus threw open the door to the hippogriffs paddock. The
animal jumped and skittered, rearing up.

�Buckbeak, behave, please, not now!� Sirius pleaded as Remus
shoved the animal aside with out a thought, not noticing how closecamecame to
loosing a limb, throwing open a hidden door in the floor.

�Take Buckbeak down, and change into Padfoot, hurry, they
are coming!� Remus was literally shoving both of them into the dark hole. Both
Sirius and Buckbeak balked, but Remus didn�t let that stop him, a hand on
Buckbeak�s rump and one on Sirius back, shoving them relentlessly into the
dark. Finally Sirius gathered some part of his mind and guided the hippogriff
down the few short stairs into the cellar type area, before he shifted into
Padfoot and crouched down, listening as Remus threw straw over the door and
left the room.

Padfoot had almost no sense of time. All he knew that it was
dark and he was scared, and that the hippogriff next to him was prancing and
whining. He was waiting for the nice man, for Moony, to come release him from
the prison like cellar. He couldn�t help but whimper himself.

�I am not hiding Black. You have no documentation to search
my private residence. I am asking you to leave at once.� Remus said firmly to
the three black robed figures in his living room, his wand in hand. One of the
dementors raised a hand slowly, holding open a piece of parchment to ministry
werewolf legislation 1283, section Q: All werewolves are subject to be searched
at any time. Another piece of garbage that made him less than human. �Fine
then, search away.� Remus stepped back trying to look angry, while he trembled
inside.

It took them fifteen minutes to search the main room, his
bedroom, figure out it was a magic door, and search every room but the stable.
When they opened the door on the stable, Remus�s breath caught. Gods, let
Sirius be silent and conscious, if he reacted too strongly to the dementors,
and passed out� he would turn to human form, and then it would be all over.

�See, no Black, now kindly leave. There is nothing left to
search.�

Below his feet Padfoot trembled, trying desperately hard not
to whine. Moony stood over him now, Moony would protect him. The nice gentle
man wouldn�t let him be hurt. Padfoot trembled, tail between his legs as his
body started to go numb. They were there right over him�. he needed to stay
conscious, needed to stay as Padfoot, so the bad things wouldn�t find him�

When Remus was finally able to rush down to the cellar, he
almost got killed by Buckbeak, who he pushed aside roughly, kneeling by the
large prone form of Padfoot. His furry body jerked and trembled gray eyes
rolled back in his head, half convulsing.

�Shite�.� Remus muttered seeing the condition his friend was
in. Sirius had done the best he could, but he was in a bad way. How had he
lived through twelve years of this? Remus knelt and scooped the trembling dog
into his arms, gripping his fur, as a comfort to himself as he carried the dog
up to their bedroom, laying him on the bed, still twitching violently and
whimpering.

�Shhh, Padfoot, they are gone now, come on.� Remus whispered
sitting on the bed beside the dog, stroking his thin fur with long slow
strokes, trying to sooth the dog, relax him. His poor Padfoot. Both hands moved
in long stroking motions down the canine�s side, firm caressing touches that
would, under other circumstances, have had Padfoot whining for more. They did
manage to calm him some as Remus�s strong hands continued to sooth over him.
Remus sighed softly, when would this hell be over?

�I�m okay.� Sirius voice crunched like wheels on gravel. Tfur fur under Remus�s caressing hand had turned to threadbare ware of the fabric of
his robe. Remus�s started so hard he almost leapt off the mattress, his own
heart not yet calmed.

�Si, Gods! You scared me.� Remus chuckled, but it was a near
hysterical sound, his heart in his throat, pitching his voice higher.

�Sorry mate.� Sirius mumbled through teeth that chattered
violently, as if cold. Remus knew though that it was fear.

�Easy there Sirius, easy, they are gone now. Try and calm
yourself.� He scooted next to him again, stroking sable black locks from a
clammy brow. �Let me get you some hot chocolate, you are quivering all over.� Remus�s
voice was like water over smooth rock calm and cool, his feeling hands that
searched lightly over Sirius�s body for injury, fever or clamminess, were light
and warm.

�No!� It came out a frantic gasp like a man breaching the
surface of the water that would drown him, and taking his first breath. Sirius
swallowed and tried again. �No� you are better for me then chocolate� you don�t
have any handy?� Sirius knew his memories were dodgy at best, but unless Remus
had changed very drastically, he always kept a bar or three of chocolate in his
night table.

�Yes� suck on it though, I don�t trust you to swallow right
now.� Remus sighed reaching over and across Sirius prone form, still turned on
his side, for a half eaten bar on the bedside table. He broke off a piece and
held it to Sirius�s lips, feeding it to him with competent fingers.

�Mother Hen much?� Sirius grumbled as he took the
rectangular morsel, leaving it to melt in his mouth as instru. �I. �I�m just a
bit shaken, I�m not bloody dying.� Bad choice of words, and Sirius shuddered
harder, he wasn�t dead, but he could have been.

�All right.� Remus shrugged setting the candy bar in
Sirius�s reach, sitting back and away from him a bit, letting him be
�independent�. The wizard reached for the bar with a hand that shook so bad it
looked palsied, he fingered the bar weakly, unable to get a grip, or strength
to break off the corner, he picked it up and dropped it several times before
admitting defeat and leaving it lay.

�Fuck you for always being right Moony. Do you ever get
tired of it?�

�Regularly. Its not like I glory in seeing you like this?�
Remus�s hand closed around Sirius�s that twitched on the quilt like a live
thing, and tucked it against Sirius�s chest, fingers lingering to feel his
pulse, which beat hard and fast against the thin, pale flesh. �Your heart is
racing� Sirius�� Remus�s tone had gone from mild, and detached professionalism,
to serious concern. �Were you like this the entire time you were in Azkaban?�

�No� just since� since Buckbeak and I escaped, when Harry
saved me� I� Merlin, its like this uncontrollable phobia� Moony, what the hell
is wrong with me?� Sirius tensed trying to still the shivers that were still
wracking him, and clench his jaw against trembling teeth.

�Nothing unexpected� just� well I suppose it�s a panic
attack of sorts.� Remus offered him another bite of chocolate, which Sirius
accepted with out protest. �I mean, generally panic attacks are defined as an
uncontrollable, unreasonable attack of anxiety, leading to physical symptoms,
because of an excessive amount of adrenalin. Though you have a very logical and
proportional level of fear, but, same idea I think.�

Like his description of autoerotic asphyxiation, the
clinical definition of his circumstance eased Sirius somewhat; the known was
somehow less frightening. Remus�s encyclopedic knowledge pulling his arse from
the fire once again. How many times had he and James relied on that knowledge
and accepted it with out question?

�Right� thanks�� Sirius closed his eyes, trying to relax,
the chocolate helping to some degree, as did the words for his current
condition, easing him enough that his teeth stopped chattering and he was able
to breath again. He felt Remus stroke back his hair, smoothing it with a heavy
hand, slicking it back and away from his face, adjusting the pillow under his
head so he was in a more natural position. Remus his caretaker. Really, Remus
had been caretaker to all of them; they were only able to repay the favor once
a h. Sh. Sirius sighed and concentd ond on even breaths, and the warmth
spreading from his mouth to the rest of his body from the spread of the
chocolate through out his system. He would live through this, all of this.
Someday his name would be cleared, and he and Harry would have a cottage in
Hogsmead, and he would be an Auror again, and life would be like it should be�
mostly. Someday, the Marauders would get back up with out being kicked down.

Remus watched as his tentative friend, once lover, found a
calm even breath and stuck to it, his heart rate slowing. Taking his pulse had
really just been a formality, with the moon waxing again; he could hear the
man�s thundering heartbeat like the gallop of hooves. Remus�s own hands were
trembling slightly, a panic of his own, an anger of his own, surging like the
wolf inside him and howling for release. But holding on was all Remus had ever
known, and so he held on, gripping the same downhill slope he had dug his nails
into the day he heard the Potter�s were dead, Sirius was in Azkaban, and he was
being �released from his duty to the ministry� as an Auror.

He remembered being a child, in his tiny bed in the tiny
cabin at the edge of the sea on the edge of Ireland. He remembered the way she
would hold him when he would wake in the night, screaming and thrashing in the
throws of his own panic attacks, how she would hold him and sing softly, her
strong hands smoothing down his arms and legs and chest in heavy petting
strokes. He remembered the pressure of those caresses, how they had forced his
muscles to relax, how the weight of the touch had reassured him. It was a sort
of massage, he supposed. Molly Lupin had said she had done it to him to sooth
him as a baby, as her mother had done for her and all her siblings.

He started at Sirius�s shoulder, petting him the same way he
had when the wizard had been Padfoot, long heavy strokes, allowing him to feel
every knot of tensed muscle, the knobbiness of his elbow, the scant flesh over
his ribs. Far too weighty a touch for a lover�s caress, and Remus thought he
might have hit on something here. It wasn�t too intimate, just soothing,
relaxing, as was evidence by Sirius�s soft, Padfoot like chuff of contentment.
Yes, this was working.

He took Sirius�s bony arm between both hands and smoothed
down along his arm, pressing firmly, popping the joints a little, which another
sigh from Sirius, indicated he found pleasurable. The werewolf kept up the
massaging caress on the arm until it was limp and lax, the trembling stopped by
lack of muscle tone.

�What are you doing Remus?�

�Something my mother did to me. Call it the ancient art of
half arsed Irish massage.� Remus replied, not leaving room for Padfoot to be
clever as he started in on a bony side.

�It feels damn good. Thank you.�

Remus smiled slightly, �You are welcome Padfoot, as always.�

The slow heavy strokes were wonderful, rubbing away Sirius�s
anxiety and fear, making him sleepy with the sudden loss of adrenalin. Feeling
Remus manipulate his limbs, bending them, soothing the muscles, relaxing them,
turning Sirius into a string-cut marionette to his pack-mates capable hands. He
couldn�t help but giggle slightly, when he felt Remus�s hands cradling his
head, rolling it gently, using the joint with out using any of Sirius muscles.
It tickled oddly and immediately relieved the headache that had been starting
to form in the absents of adrenalin, whatever Remmy was doing was definitely
releasing some very calming endorphins.

�There, how do you feel now? Because it feel�s like you�re
asleep to me.� R�s h�s hands were now running twisting Sirius�s hips gently,
causing things to crackle in his back, like bursting bubbles of pain that
suddenly eased a tension and compression he didn�t even know he was feeling. He
marveled a moment at Moony�s strength to manipulate the dead weight of his body
like that. Then again this was a man nearing forty who could still pick himself
up off the ground after a full moon and tend his own injuries.

�Feels better then a-� He had been about to say �tight
whore� but thought his Moony might be a bit offended at that. �A cheering
charm. Your mother taught you that?�

�Well the rubbing, like this�� He demonstrated again on
Sirius�s arm. �Apparently its used on infants mostly, but she was still doing it
to me when was home for the summer before our seventh year, so� but the rest of
that, I worked, for a short time with special needs wizarding children, we did
a lot of that as physical therapy.�

�Oh wonderful so you treated me like a retarded baby.�

�And I am the cynical bastard? I think you need more
chocolate.� Remus sighed forcing a piece between Sirius�s lips before the man
could object, or speak at all for that matter. He moved to the edge of the bed,
and stood smoothing out his muggle jeans, which he was starting to notice
smelled like a barnyard, and the t-shirt that smelled rather strongly of
sweat. �You nap. I have a field to
finish harvesting.�

�Wait, Rem�� Sirius rolled his head towards Remus, cracking
an eye. �Are things really so bad, that you have to be a field hand for
muggles?�

�Would I be doing it if they weren�t? Listen my picture was
all over the Prophet� I have been outed, in every possible meaning of the word.
And if the Ministry was aware I was working at all, I would probably be shipped
off to a werewolf retaining camp faster then you can say Quiditch. Or would
have a fall down the stairs and land on a silbullbullet, if you catch my
drift. I do everything I can to make a
living, short of whoring, and don�t think there hasn�t been times when that�s
been starting to look like a pretty good option.� Remus sighed heavily running
his hands through his silver streaked hair.

�Remus� I�m sorry for what has happened, all of it�.� Sirius
looked up at his friend with a soft sigh, steel and blue eyes full remorse for
what could have been, and what had fallen by the wayside, dreams that were lost
to reality.

�Si� don�t be, this is none of your fault. There is only
one� no make that two, living men that can be blamed for this� Tom Riddle and
Peter Pettigrew. And everything else is our own poor choices and the substance
of reality. You and I� we have been
giving a second chance, we are the tattered remnants of the Marauders� and I
plan to� well hell I don�t know what. I�ve been kicked down, but I am not
staying there. Neither should you. For good or ill, our fates are twined. I
will see you this evening Sirius.�

Sirius lay back, closing his eyes again. What had happened
to their lives? Remus had once talked of woven fate� that the four Marauders
were fate brothers. He had called it many things, relating it to many books,
calling them The Fellowship, after the Lord or the Rings, a set of books by
some muggle, but the books were popular even in the wizarding world, or Ka-tet,
after some nutter American who was known for his horror. Ka-tet apparently
meant Fate Mates or something along those lines. What happened when the
fellowship was broken to betrayal. Only their Brodimir had not died in honor,
he had not died at all. No, their betrayer, their Judas, was sitting at the
right hand of� well� Sirius had run out of extended literary metaphors, but
Judas, Bordimir, they were both one thing, the worst thing, oath breakers. And
the lowest rings of hell were reserved for oath breakers and mutineers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The thunder rolled. It was the wet season in England, if
there could be said to be such. It was predawn and postnight, the light
hovering in limbo, waiting for a cue that would never come on an over cast day
like this. Remus had seen the sun down, and would see it rise again this
morning. The moon was growing pregnant in the sky, clouds or no, Remus knew
that by the ache in his bones that was more then just the rheumatism that was
setting in. He was not restless, but sleep was still a fickle lover. He lay on
the couch, as he had for the last month, wearing only a pair of jeans gone so
soft they might as well have been pajamas. He felt too vulnerable these days to
let Sirius catch him any less dressed then that.

The curtains were tied back, showing him the sky and
countryside and the lightening that danced closDawnDawn would turn dark today,
and with any luck lighten around noon. But neither he nor his Sirius had any
luck, so it would pour the day long. Sirius had been quiet in the night, giving
Remus no distraction from an endless parade of memories. Moments of utter
humiliation, embarrassment and pain. Like when he had transformed in front of
Harry, what he must have looked like� thank the Stars that he had yet to speak
to the boy. He wasn�t sure he could look him, or any of the others, in the eye
again.

Hermione wrote him weekly. It surprised him at first, but
after a thought, he realized that he shouldn�t have been. It took him four
weeks to respond, finally spurred into action when on the fourth week; no owl
had brought him a letter from her. So he had written back, and kept to
pleasantries, which took two hours to find and expand into a respectable length
letter. Today a school owl would arrive from her, and he would read it, and
smile that anyone thought of him fondly yet. And then he would agonize over
what to tell her for two days, and finally send an owl back.

As if summoned, a bored looking screech owl rapped on his
window, blinking at him, demanding breakfast with his body language. Remus went
over to the window and lifted it, letting the raptor in, taking the letter from
it carefully.

�I�m sorry, I don�t have much to give you, will you take
stale bread I had planned for the ducks? Oh don�t look at me like that, they feed
you at the school, I know they do.� Remus found a full slice of the least stale
bread he had set aside for the ducks, and gave it to the owl. �My thanks,
truly, fly safe, storms coming.� Remus sighed as the owl rolled his large eyes
before taking off with his sub par tip.

�Ruddy owl.� He muttered scratching his chest as he waved he
filled his favorite mug with water and a tea bag, waving his wand over it in a
circular flick to heat the water. It wasn�t exactly high class, but this wasn�t
exactly the Queen�s Palace, either. Stowing his wand and picking up the mug he
padded out onto his porch, feeling the oncoming storm like a wet blanket on his
shoulders. His hair, though too straight to frizz, started to stand on end. He
didn�t bother to adjust it, who was he trying to impress?

Leaning back against his little cottage, he hooked a thumb
in the waist band of his jeans, sipping at his tea, liking the feel of the worn
wood against his feet, which were starting to look a bit hobbitish as the full
moon neared. The hair on his chest also felt thicker, not that that took much.
Setting his tea on the porch rail he unfolded the letter, written on a plain
parchment, in a neat, functional handwriting, no frills, no decorations, just
words. It made Remus smile in a slow way. Hermione was so� unique, and had so
obviously not fully hit puberty.

The letter was simple and sincere, if incredibly thorough,
as though she was reporting to a teacher on sabbatical. He wondered if she
harbored some hope that that was the case. It wasn�t, he would never teach
again, as much as he had loved it. He wouldn�t let himself, even if the
ministry would. She asked him several questions, and answered the handful he
had asked her himself in his last letter. He was a bit more startled when he
got to the end of the letter, where after signing off there was a very lengthy
postscript, not directly asking if she could come to visit, but hedging around
it. Yes, Hermione was very Unique.

He folded the parchment and envelope in half and stuck it in
the back pocket of his jeans, the paper sharing a pocket with his wand. The
rail for the weather stained porch was wide, and he hopped up onto it with the
grace of a younger man, neither spilling his tea, nor blasting off his buttocks
as Moody had oft predicted in his Auror days. He reclined back against a wooden
post, his legs stretched before him and crossed at the ankle as thunder peeled
overhead. He could smell the rain, and figured he had fifteen minutes before clo clouds broke; maybe a half hour before the storm took hold.

It wasn�t a window seat, per say, but it was a recessed
window big enough for Remus so sit on, his hips narrow enough to fit on the
ledge, as long as he crossed his legs at the ankles for balance. The window was
open, the pane thrown wide, and the smell of rain and soil and wet wood greeted
his nose, wet animals too. He liked the rain, or the snow, the wind, anything.
Anything of nature that could turn from beautiful to murderous in an unseen
moment. The difference between a wolf and a werewolf. He heard James�s steps,
though James thought he was being stealthy, and he lowered one leg to the
ground. As expected, Jamie ran forward to play-shove him out the window. Remus
didn�t even blink.

�Good Quiddich, mate?�

�I can never scare you. Peter would have screamed like a
girl.� James pouted. Sirius would have screamed like a girl too, Remus knew.
Sirius�s voice was taking a particular long time to finish changing and even at
seventeen, he squeaked like a clarinet, and screamed like a girl.

�Better luck next time.� He clapped James on a sweaty
shoulder. �Date with Lily?�

James nodded, pushing his glasses up on his nose. �I�m
taking her in to Hogsmead, I�ve got a reservation at the Pegasus.� He grinned
wickedly, and Remus didn�t bother to ask: A. how they were sneaking out to go
on a date, and B. How he had managed to reservations at the posh-est restaurant
in town.

�Better wash up then.� Remus smiled, but it was a small
smile, his Mona Lisa smile. He hoped Prongs would take the hint and bugger off.
The moon tonight would be so close to full, that it would look that way. He
wasn�t exactly dangerous at this time, but he was certainly cranky.

�Oy, good plan. Careful sitting there though Remus, for
s-e-r-i -o-u-s.� It was an inside joke, an attempt to draw out more then that
Mona Lisa quirk, to draw a rare, genuine grin. But Remus could not supply it,
and made it up by clapping James on the shoulder again.

�Have fun tonight.� He said, before turning back to look
out the open window. Prongs said something else, some salutation, but it was
lost to Remus as he watched the deep green grass of Hogwarts in spring.

If had known then
what he knew now, he thought that he would have heard those words that James
had said, that casual salutation. Because he wanted every word, every moment of
James, and Lily, and that life. He wanted every detail, every sense of it,
because those moments were all he had left. Sirius was back, out of Azkaban,
and pardoned, at least to those who knew him, but Remus was the last of their
fellowship, the last of their Ka-tet. The last of their kind. And he held their
secrets, their treasures, the boyhood (and in Lily�s case, girlhood) of the
five of them safe, held it secret.

Another sip found his tea cold, and his arm wet, as the rain
had started, gone unnoticed by the Traveler. Time slipped through his fingers
and his mind like water, in a way that he barely noticed sometimes. His hand
settled back in its original place, the rain drops running over the flesh of
his arm, making it prick, and wetting down the moon-thickened hair there, over
the back of his palm, and into his teacup.
- 5
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StarFall, Moonset

Disclaimer: Don�t own them, if Idid I wouldn�t be a poor college student

Starfall, Moonset

Disclaimer: Don�t own them, if I
did I wouldn�t be a poor college student