Carefully ensconced in a novel, Remus meted out his allotment of gazes over the top of his reading glasses. Sirius sat, feet pulled up as close to his body as possible. The tension tethering him to his human form was strong enough that Remus convinced himself he could smell it, pungent and fearful. The paper of the Daily Prophet crinkled in Sirius' bony fingers as he mulled over the crossword.

Remus tugged his focus back to the pages of his book, though his attentions lagged behind to their reunion, three days prior: Sirius straddling his lap; Remus wanting to claim - repossess - the lips and mouth that had been his. Somehow it was all too soon. Instead Remus had tenderly kissed the rest; papery eyelids closed in disbelief; stark cheekbones and unkempt caterpillar eyebrows. He had suckled on an unscarred earlobe, wishing he could gnaw at the moan that escaped Sirius' lips.

Remus turned the page, fostering the ruse as fully as he could. Another surreptitious glance to Sirius, another link in the chain from past to present. Remus loved him, had shouted such in his mind; he could thrive on air alone as long as his packmate shared it.

Sirius. Beloved, damaged, transfigured Sirius, was a stranger. Oblivious, he inked another word in the puzzle as Remus' threnody drifted gently in and out with each breath.

---

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