Remus had gotten a scant few messages from Sirius ever since he'd officially been on the run from the Ministry that summer, (from tropical birds of all things), but the last had just been the forbidding message he was going back to Hogwarts to keep a closer eye on Harry. Then nothing.

Silence, again, for the next several months, and there were only the papers and those horrid articles to keep him in the loop.

A knock on the door jolted him from reading one such paper now, Rita's latest drivel over Harry's insanity issues, the nerve of that woman. He wasn't in the best temper from that alone, and yet another shiver rolled down his spine as he looked around at the sharp noise.

The last time someone had done this to his home in the middle of nowhere had been Dumbledore requesting him to come back to Hogwarts. He swallowed and tried to push that memory away as he uneasily pulled himself from the couch and gripped his wand, telling himself if the Ministry still had any comments about how that debacle had ended they wouldn't have waited a whole nother year to come calling.

An old familiar sight darkened his doorway, like a nightmare and an echo all coalescing into this one moment.

"Voldemort's back and Dumbledore told me to come lay low here." Sirius stopped there as if that was all the explanation needed. He was still wearing the filthy robes of Azkaban, once bright gray eyes seemed dull...almost bored with having to be the one to inform him of this.

When further explanation was clearly not going to be provided right this moment, Remus instead felt obligated to at least address the absurd part of that. "Of course you can stay." He attempted rolling his eyes, but he couldn't take them off Sirius for even a moment.

This was not surprising news; Dumbledore had sent him a warning that something was coming as well after Harry's name had come out of the Cup. It's not as if Remus had ever sent a message to Sirius to confirm he knew, it had felt too obvious, but he'd never been able to cobble anything else to ink out either.

'It was supposed to be casual, him stepping across your doorway,' he firmly reminded himself.

Sirius stayed hovering near the doorway the whole time Remus went about preparing a meal, almost like he was deciding whether or not to bolt at any second. Remus tried not to let himself hold onto any emotion as he gently set two plates down at the table and gave him an obvious look.

Sirius finally came in properly, still eyeing every corner and flicker of movement before sitting on the edge of the seat and devouring the food. He didn't use utensils. Remus opened and closed his mouth at least a dozen times to at least ask how staying in Hogsmeade had been, but couldn't get the words out. Sirius never even caught his eye.

Remus was used to silence. He loved the shows they used to put on, but he'd been more than happy to sit alone for hours reading just as much. He'd spent far too many years wondering if he wouldn't have just been better off doing that far more than letting them get so involved in his life. He'd tried telling himself, in recent weeks anyway, that it was just old bitterness, but Sirius must have still felt something of his unease he hadn't worked through.

Sirius hadn't even bothered to clean his hands; his hair was shorter than it ever had been and uneven but at least decent-looking. It occurred to Remus he didn't even seem aware of how unnaturally still he was even as his eyes kept flinching over nothing.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Remus finally asked as he took up his plate and set it in the sink. He'd meant about Voldemort. He should have known better.

As much as Sirius used to love jokes, Remus had to be really obvious about it and heavy-handed with the sarcasm if he were going to play along, or he'd think Remus was trying to make a biting comment instead, just like his parents had for so many years.

"I already admitted I didn't trust you, what more do you want from me?" His words were deadly calm, but there was also something hovering just over his head that Remus instinctively knew he didn't want to hear. He slammed the other plate into the sink and stomped off, intending to leave him to it then if he was looking for a fight. "You were gone for weeks!" Sirius clearly wasn't having that. "I kept telling you those bloody werewolves were going to get in your head, and you never listened to me—"

"I was on orders from Dumbledore!" Remus did turn around then. He couldn't believe, after all this time, that Sirius still had the gall to defend himself. He'd followed him back into the living room with that skeleton-like face that haunted his nightmares since he'd seen the photo in the paper. He'd never have believed it was the same person if it weren't for the caption. "As you bloody well knew! Nobody ever knew where the hell you were, not even Albus; it's no wonder he didn't trust you! What was I supposed to think?! Oh, but that's right of course, James knew best!"

Whatever little color Sirius had gained back into his face drained away. He sat back on the couch, shutters falling across his eyes like it was no more than a stone-cold bench in Azkaban. Remus could only imagine; it's not as if he'd ever gone to see for himself.

Anger was still tumbling through too fast, but his temper instantly cooled. He wanted to go hug him again, but there was nothing to deal with tonight, except each other. "I shouldn't have said that," he finally whispered, even if it had been a long time coming.

"It's the truth," Sirius' voice was clipped, cool, and emotionless, the exact opposite of the teenager he'd known for so very long.

He wished Sirius would tell him the whole story, of who had been the one to start the mistrust. He suspected it was Peter, but had Sirius and James really fallen for that? He knew it had been his own fault as well, for letting Lily's whispered fears as she clutched her newborn follow him back to their old flat.

A part of Remus still wanted to go to him, but it wasn't Moony he needed right now. "He's the only good thing that ever happened in my life." He paused for only a moment, and a flicker of life came back to him, but he looked at the door once more as he finished his sentence just slightly more normal in tone, "and Harry."

Remus flinched; he definitely deserved that, even if he wanted so very much to disagree. He swallowed, he should have corrected him, but something had broken. Maybe it hadn't even been the one decision, maybe it had been a joint problem through the entire war. It might even take another thirteen years before the two found themselves on even ground again, but Remus was at least willing to try.

He went over to a cupboard and pulled an old quilt into his arms. It was the same handmade one he'd carried with him every year to Hogwarts, the very one mum had knitted for him while he waited alone in St. Mungo's for the healers to tell them there was no cure for his affliction. She used to wrap him in it every morning after his full moons, the soft material easing his new cuts. They were forced to use Muggle medicine on his wounds because his dad had been cut off from magic.

The orange color had faded much with time, the acquired stains that had to be repeatedly cleaned out were no longer present, and it did not smell like dung-bombs despite Sirius and James's multiple attempts to infect everything in their dorm with the odor as often as they held onto those back then. He walked over to Sirius and offered it in quiet acceptance, the very same one the four of them had piled under multiple nights over the course of their lives, the one lone article in this room Sirius had anything resembling a claim to, as often as it was traded amongst them.

Sirius took it with a haggard face, running the material over the tips of his fingers, then unfurled it and threw it over his shoulders like a cape as if fixing to sprint down the corridors pretending to be a possessed pumpkin chasing first years. He sniffed it curiously as if still trying to detect the hint of hay Prongs had once stuffed in the lining—Merlin knows why for anymore—some revenge for whatever the last person had done before passing the blanket along in a time-honored tradition of giving each other hell.

"Get some sleep, Padfoot," was all he murmured before going back to his room. Sirius did not disturb him all night. He didn't wake him up in the moonlight to snicker about the newest joke that came to mind or just chat about Quidditch scores in one of the restless moods Moony had always indulged. The two of them had always been the nocturnal ones no matter if they knew Prongs would wake them up early the next morning. Restless memories warred with harsh dreams of ghosts and sweets, pranks and betrayal. When the cracks of sunlight finally began lighting his room but there was no messy, speckled black-haired youth shaking him awake, he forced himself to his feet and went back to the living room, half expecting Sirius to have vanished once more.

His last friend was sprawled half off the couch with one leg and arm in that fascinating way he'd always had of being able to sleep on any surface in any position, the orange blanket wrapped tight to his chest rather than across him, held in a sort of mock death grip as his head remained lopsided on the arm. Remus stifled a laugh, and then forwent that idea and chuckled to himself as he crossed back to the kitchen to start on a pot of tea. Maybe Sirius was still willing to try, too.