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"Let go of me, will you?" Sirius shouted, his bloody fingers clenched in Peter's sleeve. He elbowed Remus in the side as he tried to shake off James' prying hands. "I'm all right."

"Balls." James wrestled Sirius down onto Remus' trunk, the lid creaking sadly, his hand flat on Sirius' chest. "Your eye is swollen shut, and you're all over blood." He cradled Sirius' face, his thumb pinning the hinge of Sirius' jaw. "Tergeo!"

Sirius' eyes narrowed, sharpened. His lip was badly split, puffy and ragged, dark smears on his nose and cheeks, new blood welling in the rend as he explored it with his fingers, his tongue. It dripped down his chin, shocking and bright, spotted the front of his ripped shirt.

James hissed quietly, slapping at Sirius' wrist. "Episkey!"

"That'll never work," Remus observed, Sirius' blood sticky on his hands and tie. "The cut's too deep."

Peter wrinkled his nose, wiped his own stained hands on his trousers. "We should take him up to Pomfrey. He looks a bit peaky."

"Sanareo!" James ventured, his glasses falling down his nose, the end of the spell jerking up like a question, hopeful. The bleeding scarcely stopped. "Shit."

Sirius laughed, roughly, his teeth savage and red, and he nudged James' wand away from his face. "I'll get it sorted, all right?" He was the best of them at Healing Charms, could handle most of what Remus needed on the throbbing and bleary mornings after the full moon; Remus had a pinkish, knotted scar on the inside of his arm, just below the elbow, a reminder from the one time Peter had tried to mend something beyond a minor scrape. "Here, Moony, find me a mirror or something, will you?"

"Accio!"

"Blimey, mate," Sirius' reflection grumbled, whistling through its teeth, "you look like something the Kneazle dragged in."

"You should see Regulus." Sirius grinned madly, barely wincing as his swollen mouth pulled taut. "Stupid fuck. I think I broke his nose."

--

"Excuse me. Lupin, isn't it?"

Regulus favoured Sirius quite a bit at first glance -- the same nose, the same mouth, the same arrogant tilt of the head -- but Regulus had stronger cheekbones, a slightly narrower jaw, and he was two or three inches shorter than Sirius, less broad across the shoulders, and his posture was different, stiffer, all starched robes and false, pureblood formalities. A dark and mottled bruise marred his temple, partially clouded by the neat sweep of his fringe.

Remus stared at him for a moment, at the haughty shadow he threw across the table, and said, "It is. Has been all term, in fact," his voice suddenly sour and dry. He didn't know Regulus to dislike him, but he was tired of frowning at Sirius' bruises, of the way McGonagall sighed when Sirius came to class dishevelled, of the heavy, sullen expression that darkened Sirius' face when he spotted Regulus in the courtyard, at the end of a corridor. "And the term before that, and--"

"And the term before that one, yes." Regulus' mouth curved, settled somewhere between a sneer and a smile. His eyes were a bit darker than Sirius', hinting at blue instead of solid grey. "May I sit?"

"Sorry?"

"May I sit," Regulus repeated crisply, nodding at the empty chair opposite Remus, piled with several books, an unrolled parchment, and the potted Flitterbloom Remus had meant to leave in Herbology. "Everywhere else is full."

The Library was rammed with students, hunched over their books as the late afternoon sun pushed through the windows, mostly fifth and seventh years revising for their approaching exams. Remus frowned at the closest group of Slytherins, nine lower form girls trying to share a table intended for six.

Regulus narrowed his eyes. "People only see what they expect to see."

"What?"

"If I keep my head down, everyone will just assume I'm Sirius," Regulus said, his hand ghosting over the back of the chair. He wore a signet on his thumb, a man's ring, his family crest twisted into silver and onyx and moonstones. "Don't worry."

Remus had dragged Sirius away from Regulus less than three days ago, his hands at Sirius' waist, knotting in Sirius' shirt as Sirius had shouted, his furious voice cracking down the Charms corridor like thunder, blood pouring from his mouth. Regulus had been sprawled on the floor, his wand under his hip and a suit of armour at his shoulder; he'd snarled as Remus pushed Sirius toward the stairs, had called Remus a useless, miserable halfbreed with his sleeve pressed to his shattered nose.

"I wasn't worried," Remus said mildly, setting the Flitterbloom on the floor with a flippant twitch of his wand.

--

"All right," James said, his lowered voice still loud in the empty classroom. Moonlight glittered through the windows, pallid and waning, casting strange shadows over his face, twisting around his hands as he folded the Map into his pocket. "I think we're ready, then."

Peter frowned suddenly, his fringe drooping in his eyes. "Wait. Didn't you want the Fanged Geraniums in Hufflepuff?"

"I thought I did, until I measured it out," James replied, the Cloak hanging over his arm, obscuring it to the shoulder. "Hufflepuff is too far from the Owlery. We'll never make it back in time."

"It won't matter where the bloody Fanged Geraniums are, if we bollocks the Tracking Charm." Sirius barely looked up, kept splitting a box of Dungbombs into two messy piles. "I mean, we already don't have enough gillyweed, and--"

"Sluggy was out of gillyweed," Peter said, his voice tight, his hands fisted in his robe, "and Remus said the lovage will work."

"The lovage bloody well stinks."

Remus waved them off, tucked his share of the Dungbombs into his pocket. "It does stink, rather, but it'll work. Better than the gillyweed, I think -- we won't have to bother with the Jelly-Brain Jinxes."

"Well, that's sorted, then," James said, nudging Peter's arm. "Grab those bloody flowers, will you? Remus and Sirius will meet you upstairs after they've planted the Dungbombs."

Sirius caught Remus' sleeve as he passed, his voice slipping into a dry, brittle whisper. "My brother... he hasn't been bothering you, has he?"

"What?" Remus asked slowly, hiding three silent hours in the corners of his mouth, Regulus' head bent over his Charms book, his dark hair framing the line of his jaw, his wrist curving slightly each time he turned a page. "No."

"McKinnon told me she saw him talking to you. Yesterday, in the Library."

Remus shrugged, said "I was never in the Library yesterday," because it was easier, because nothing about Sirius was ever easy.

--

"I do hope we get started on time for once," Evans said tartly, her bright hair pulled over her shoulder in a long, heavy braid. Her scarf sat of her knee, folded neatly, and her red and black chequered mittens waited in her lap. "My Transfiguration essay is a few inches short, and I'd like to get it sorted tonight."

Remus nodded, hiding a slow, aching yawn in the folds of his sleeve; the Prefects' lounge was stuffy, overly warm, smelled like sweat, wet wool, stale tea.

"Have you finished yours?" she asked, her head tilted and her mouth soft, two gentle fingers on Remus' arm, and Remus suddenly understood what James liked about her, why he so desperately wanted to tame her. "Animagus transformations, of all things."

"No, I haven't," Remus replied, tucking his hair behind his ears. It was too long, had been for weeks, always falling in his eyes and fanning at his neck; he kept forgetting to have Peter trim it. "I'm a bit short, too."

"It's interesting enough, I suppose, but twenty inches seems rather a lot, for something we're not even allowed to do."

Heat slid over Remus' jaw, spreading up toward his cheeks, and he swallowed a wide smile, his chest tight, still grateful. James had been the first to show him, nearly a year ago, the snow crunching under his feet and the moon waxing gibbous above his head, not yet a threat; Remus had shook as James twisted, amazed, wordless, could only blink at James' huge, solemn eyes, at the graceful, arching reach of his antlers, at Prongs.

"It's brilliant," Remus murmured.

The door creaked open, tiredly, five of the Slytherin Prefects crowding in the frame, first Avery and Rosier, then two girls whose names Remus didn't remember, and the Regulus, straight-backed and tight-mouthed, his slim fingers paused on the door handle.

"Grand," Evans said, crossing her feet at the ankles. "Maybe we'll get started now."

Regulus swept into the empty pouffe next to Remus, his robe very black against the violently yellow chintz. He smelled like the dungeon, like cold rooms and dusty, forgotten corners, and he didn't look at Remus, didn't say a word.

--

"...yes, and that's what I told her. Innit, Moony?"

Regulus leaned closer to Snape, whispering in a way that seemed secretive, urgent, his mouth bent to Snape's ear and his hand tucked in Snape's sleeve. His skin was pale in the hovering candlelight, his hair very, very black, nearly blue. He fiddled with his napkin, smiled slightly at something Snape said in reply.

"Moony?"

Remus blinked away from the Slytherin table, tried to shrug off the slow itch on the back of his neck, at the inside of his wrists. His tea was forgotten, cold. "What?"

"Oh, fuck me. You're as useless as Peter today," Sirius said brightly, squeezing Remus' shoulder, his smile too dimpled, his eyes too grey. "Pass me the jam, will you?"

--

The hallway outside the Prefects' lounge was nearly dark, the torches spitting, burning low above Remus' head, the heavy curtains drawn over the windows, blotting out the stars. A portrait hissed at the soft, sudden glow from Remus' wand, and a tapestry fluttered at Remus' shoulder as he passed it, coughing out dust. The moon was new; Remus could feel its absence in his joints, behind his teeth, peaceful.

He leaned against the corkscrew bannister at the foot of the stairs, tapped his wand on his thigh as he waited for Evans.

"Come along, Lupin," Regulus called, more amused than impatient, half in shadows on the first landing. A murmured Lumos wreathed his face like a halo. "We've the North Tower tonight. That's a bit of a walk."

Remus stopped halfway up, drumming his fingers on the bannister, his feet on two different steps. "We've the North Tower for what?"

"Rounds," Regulus said slowly, descending to meet him. "We do them every night -- I'm sure you'll remember if you try." He paused on the step above Remus, pushed Remus' fringe from his eyes with a casual flip of his hand. "Move, will you? We'll be at this past curfew as it is."

"I do my rounds with Lily Evans," Remus countered, his mouth barely curving as Regulus' eyes narrowed. "Red hair? Fantastic temper? I'm sure you'll remember if you try."

"Your little Mudblood friend is ill," Regulus said, shrugging.

Remus caught Regulus' arm, twisting, his fingers hard and bruising. "Don't call her that."

"If it bothers you," Regulus said lightly, turning back toward the stairs, his hand looped in Remus' sleeve.

--

"I'll fucking kill you this time," Sirius spat, his face flushed and livid, his untucked shirt ripped at the collar.

Regulus sneered viciously, his broken lip twisting, his bloody teeth gruesome and sharp. "Traitor."

"Rictusempra!"

Regulus' arm convulsed in a long, slow wave, shoulder to hand, his fingers shaking as his wand clattered to the floor. Sirius lunged for him, snarling; he slammed his fist into Regulus' gut, into Regulus' side. Gasping, Regulus reared back, threw his shoulder into Sirius' chest.

"Damn it, Sirius," Remus shouted, clawing at Sirius' arm. "That's enough."

"Stay out of his, Moony."

Regulus rescued his wand, aiming at Sirius in a crouch. "Langlock!"

The spell just missed, bright blue as it screamed past Sirius' ear, silencing a portrait behind him in mid-complaint. He darted a Levicorpus around Remus' shoulder, cursing as Regulus dodged it, as a suit of armour creaked sadly, jerking into the air.

"Protego!" Remus growled, sliding between them, hooking his elbow around Sirius' arm. He frowned at Regulus, at the thick bruise blooming on Regulus' jaw. "All right?"

"Piss off," Regulus snapped.

"What do you care if he's all right?" Sirius demanded, watching Regulus walk away, his hair wild, his fingers warm and sweaty at Remus' wrist.

Remus shrugged away from him, nudged him down the corridor. "Why are you fighting with him again?"

"He called me a blood traitor."

"You are a blood traitor," Remus said, tiredly, his voice sour at the edges, "and you're normally rather proud of it."

--

Halfway through Remus' Arithmancy essay -- fourteen inches, the use of magical geometry in architecture, footnotes encouraged -- a shadow cut a wide stripe across his table, dimming the tarnished lantern at the centre, swallowing most of his books and parchments. He had a tiny, private carrel at the rear of the Library, set under a high window and scarcely large enough for one; the curved bench shifted with a muted groan, and Regulus slid in next to him, setting his Defence book on top of Remus' messy Herbology notes.

Remus suspended the lantern with a sharp tap of his wand, added two more short sentences to his Arithmancy essay.

A close silence curled around them, heavy and slow, Regulus' thigh pressed flush with Remus', his mouth drawn tight. He wrote left-handed, his elbow rubbing Remus' arm as his quill scratched across his parchment, and yesterday's bruise was carelessly healed, still waiting on his jaw, staining it a brash yellow that hinted at blue.

"I suppose I could smooth that out for you," Remus said, slowly, his head still bent over his essay, "unless you'd rather leave it."

Regulus turned a page in his book. "I'd rather you shut your mouth."

"You don't have to sit here," Remus countered, his voice mild, his quill twitching between his fingers. It was early afternoon; the Library was hushed, not quite half-full. "Plenty of other seats, today."

"The south side is all over Hufflepuffs," Regulus said, huffing under his breath, fixing a splotch on his parchment with a muttered scrap of a spell. He fairly crackled with magic, the same way Sirius did, but he held it differently, was precise and controlled instead of dangerous, reckless. "The tables along the Restricted Section have very poor light."

Remus dipped his quill in his inkwell, swallowed a sigh as Regulus' foot nudged his ankle, too easy and brushing to be accidental. "Hand me my Arithmancy book, will you? It's just there, under your elbow."

--

"Well, we're for Quidditch practise," James said brightly, rising from his favourite bench, polished stone pushed against an ancient, gnarled willow, its drooping branches blurring the rest of the courtyard. He nudged Peter, cross-legged on the grass next to Remus, his knee bumping Peter's shoulder. "What about you, then? You coming to watch, or are you staying here with this crashing bore?"

"Oh, I'll come and watch, I guess," Peter replied, using Sirius' arm to pull himself up. His hands were dirty, smeared his robe as he brushed away the twigs and leaves. "Sorry, Moony."

Remus looked up, briefly, his Potions book open in his lap. "Have a good time, children. I won't wait up."

"Moony," Sirius said, turning back slowly, leaves fluttering at his shoulders, the branches parted around him like a curtain, "you're a girl's blouse, sometimes."

"I want another look at this bit about Felix Felicis, without Prongs banging on in my ear about Evans, and that." Remus sighed, stretched his legs. "I'll come down to the pitch after I'm finished, all right?"

"All right."

It was a mild afternoon, crisp air against a brilliant, nearly cloudless sky, the sun large and listless, shining down without any real heat. The willow cast a heavy puddle of shade, cool and spreading, and Remus leaned back into the bench, tilted his book until it caught a sliver of light.

"You study quite a bit," Regulus said, suddenly, framed by a break in the branches, the courtyard peeking in around him. "Are you behind?"

Remus lacked James and Sirius' raw and careless talent, couldn't smile and bumble and apologise his way to passing marks like Peter. He did well enough, better than most of his class, but the full moon cost him four or five days a month, left him chasing to catch up.

"It's Quidditch practise now," Remus said, shrugging. He closed his Potions book, dropped it on the grass. "I didn't fancy watching people sit around on their brooms."

"If you're bored," Regulus ventured, his mouth curving slightly, the bruise on his jaw all but faded, "you could walk me to Ancient Runes."

"I never said I was bored."

Regulus narrowed his eyes, twitched Remus' book into his rucksack with an irritable flick of his wand. "I'm meant to be there in five minutes."

The willow danced with the wind, whispering quietly as Remus got to his feet; Regulus' tie seemed to glare at him, the silver and green very sharp in spite of the shadows, and Remus wrapped his hand in the slippery end of it, thoughtful.

"You won't look like Sirius in the sunlight."

"Do you need me to?"

"No, I suppose I don't," Remus said honestly, brushing a leaf from Regulus' hair.

--

"MacDonald and Gudgeon both saw it," Sirius grumbled, shirtless, a bedpost looming over his shoulder, his pyjama bottoms sitting crookedly on his hips. "You can't tell me you weren't talking to him."

Remus ducked his head, tried to hide the heat threatening his cheeks. "I never said I wasn't talking to him."

"Why, Moony? What the fuck did he want?"

Sirius waited out Remus' silence, his hard mouth an accusation, his pyjama shirt clenched in his hand; he cocked his head to the side, the way Padfoot often did, the way Padfoot had the first time Remus saw him, his tail thumping and his soft ears pricked up, his dark fur glossy in the moonlight, wet with snow, and Remus rested his hands on his knees, forced them not to shake.

"It wasn't anything," he said quietly, firmly, because Sirius was his best friend, and James and Peter, but Regulus had a dark, secretive smile that hollowed Remus' chest. "Prefect business."

"Balls."

"Sirius, please. It really wasn't anything."

"You don't know him," Sirius snapped, his hair a wild wreck around his face. He had a large, splotchy bruise along his ribs, the exact size and shape of a Bludger. "It's never not anything."

"We've nothing to talk about," Remus said, his face hot, his hair sweat-damp at the back of his neck. "I really only see him at Prefect meetings, and whenever you two are trying to kill each other."

"You did rounds with him the other night."

Remus sighed. "I did, yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know why, do I? That's just how it worked out."

"Sod that," Sirius said, frowning, childish, his pyjama shirt hanging limply at his side, dragging on the floor. "You've always done your rounds with Evans."

"Not always. It changes," Remus said, his mouth dry, his throat knotted and tight. "I've been doing them with Evans, but before that, I had -- oh, wossname. That Ravenclaw. Boot, maybe." He shifted on the edge of the bed, toed off his shoes. "Last term I landed Rosier for three straight weeks. You weren't fussed then."

"Fuck Rosier. He isn't--"

"Your brother, right."

"Moony," Sirius said slowly, his voice suddenly careful, "you can't trust him."

"Why? Because he's a Slytherin?"

"Yes."

Remus snorted loudly. "The Hat wanted you for Slytherin, remember?"

"It did, yeah," Sirius said, scratching his side, wincing as his fingers tripped over his bruise, "but I had the sense to tell it where to get off."

--

Regulus crowded Remus into a sudden alcove, near the end of the hallway, kissed him softly against the wall, his mouth slow and hot and wet, his hand paused at Remus' hip. Remus closed his eyes, made a soft noise, surprised. They were in the Arithmancy corridor, open and exposed, nothing to hide them but dust, shadows, the statue at Remus' shoulder, its elbow biting into Remus side.

This was the ninth night they'd had rounds together, Regulus sweeping out of the Prefects' lounge without a word, smiling slyly when Remus met him on the stairs. Remus had spent the second and third nights with Regulus walking too close to his side, the fifth with Regulus' warm hand resting at the small of his back, the eighth with Regulus' long fingers curled lightly around his wrist; each night Remus had returned to Gryffindor Tower uncertain, restless and half-hard, unable to look Sirius in the eye.

Regulus pressed closer, his fingers knotted in Remus' hair, his tongue slick and perfect, sliding into Remus' mouth.

"Why?" Remus asked finally, breathless, his hand twisted in Regulus' tie.

Regulus smiled against Remus' jaw. "Why not?"

--

"I don't know what you want," Remus said quietly, the broom cupboard dark and close around them, the only light from Regulus' wand, balanced upright, the handle delving into a box of rubbish.

Regulus slid his mouth up Remus' throat, open and wet, his lips fluttering just below Remus' jaw. Remus had a scar there, rough, faded with age, and Regulus kissed it, traced the silvery line with the tip of his tongue. "Does it really matter?"

"I'd rather this not be about Sirius."

"Everything is about Sirius," Regulus said, framing Remus' face with his hand, his thumb at the corner of Remus' mouth, "as far as Sirius is concerned, at least."

Remus pulled Regulus closer, let his prick nudge against Regulus' hip. "Sirius is my best friend."

"Sirius is Sirius' best friend." Regulus slipped his hand down Remus' chest, hooked his fingers in Remus' belt. "One day, Lupin, he'll prove that to you."

"You could call me Remus."

"I could, but you might start thinking I like you."

Remus shoved past him, his wand shaking as he unlocked the door; Regulus laughed, low and throaty, brushed his hand over Remus' shoulder.

"I never said I didn't."

"You never said you did."

"The trouble with Gryffindors," Regulus murmured, warm breath at the back of Remus' neck, his prick hard against Remus' arse, "is that they want an answer for everything, and they're not happy unless it's what they want to hear."

--

"You've got something on your neck," Peter told him, quietly, outside Transfiguration, making a quick, furtive gesture toward his collar. "It's just there."

Remus thumbed the delicate ache behind his ear, his face flushing, remembered Regulus' tongue on his skin, Regulus' teeth, sharp and playful. "Is it quite bad?"

"It's bad enough," Peter replied, his mouth twitching, almost a smile. "Rough night, then? I thought you were prefecting."

"I was prefecting." Remus rubbed the spot again, tapping it with his wand. "Celerus! Better?"

Peter shrugged, offered him a Chocolate Frog. "Well, it looks more like a bruise, if that's what you were after."

--

The moon was two days from full, distended and predatory, sharp under Remus' skin, pooling through his blood, itching deep in his bones. Everything was fevered, restless. He fucked his own hand between Potions and Arithmancy, locked in the toilet on the third floor, his arm braced on the cubicle door, his heavy, grunting breaths loud in the dank stillness, and then again after lunch, in the familiar warmth of his own bed, the curtains Charmed closed and the sheets twisted around his naked, sweaty, shaking legs.

He thought of Regulus' eyes, falling closed as Remus' hand curled around him, and Regulus' mouth, parting as Remus slid to his knees, his lips curving around a quiet, breathless curse, and then of Regulus' hands, pulling at Remus' hair, too hard and not quite hard enough, and Regulus' teeth, scraping Remus' skin, biting down.

Everything was desperate, raw.

The dungeon corridor was sloping and wide, dense with stretched shadows, the torches burning low, perfect for a spell that folded the light away from Remus, and he waited for Regulus in a shallow, dusty niche, just outside the Slytherin common room, his shoulder pressed to the slow curve of the wall, caught Regulus by the elbow as he returned from supper alone, his wand under his arm and an open book in his hands.

"Hungry, tonight?" Regulus asked, his eyes bright as Remus shoved him into the wall.

"I get this way sometimes," Remus growled, his hand on Regulus' arse, his open, panting mouth at Regulus' ear. "Don't flatter yourself."

"No," Regulus said lightly, popping the button of Remus' trousers, "of course not."

--

Blood and fur and fangs and claws and Padfoot and shadows and dirt and wind and branches and Prongs and screaming and moonlight and Snape and Snape and SnapeSnapeSnapeSnapeSnape.

--

"Moony," Sirius whispered, frozen on the stairs, coming down as Remus was heading up, his eyes hollow, the skin underneath the colour of a bruise, "I'm sorry."

Remus growled, his fingernails digging sharp, red crescents into the palms of his hands. "Fuck you."

--

Remus gasped, hoarsely, his head thrown back, cursing at the shadows painting the vaulted classroom ceiling; he twisted his hips, his hands in Regulus' hair, rough with need, arching up as he chased the perfect, searing heat of Regulus' mouth. His eyes slid closed, his breath stuttering in his throat, trapped.

"It wasn't about Sirius, before," Regulus murmured, hidden in the valley of Remus' bent legs, his hand slipping under Remus' bollocks, Remus' prick against his jaw, hard and spit-slick. "I think it is now, though."

Heat burned in Remus' cheeks, shameful, and he buried it in the crook of his arm, sighed a hollow denial into his sleeve. Regulus curled his hand around Remus' prick, stroking up as his lips parted over the head, taking Remus back in, deeply, and Remus came, shouting, his legs shaking as Regulus sucked him through it, his tongue soft and wet and swirlling.

--

"Moony," James said, cautiously, his hands fisted in his robe, his mouth a grim, crooked line, "we miss you."

Remus slept in the common room, the Room of Requirement, the Shrieking Shack, wherever Sirius wasn't, took his meals anywhere the house-elves would bring them, spent some of his free time revising, most of it with Regulus.

He snogged Regulus in dark dungeon corners, scarcely hidden by shadows, sucked Regulus off in broom cupboards, his hands on Regulus' hips and Regulus' fingers knotted in his hair, fucked Regulus in empty classrooms, Regulus pushed over a desk or stretched out on the floor, let Regulus fuck him in the Astronomy Tower, the stars fitful and bright above his head, Regulus' mouth hot and open against his neck as Regulus' prick slowly pressed inside him. He walked Regulus to Ancient Runes, revised with Regulus in the Library, and he didn't much care if people saw them together, didn't think Regulus ever really had.

"I miss you," Remus said eventually, his voice quiet, terribly thin, his throat cold and tight, "and Peter."

"Moony, Sirius is--"

"You can fuck right off about Sirius."

"All right, all right," James said, scratching the side of his neck. "Just, he really is sorry."

The classroom door yawned open, creaking wearily, Potions students escaping Slughorn in a furious rush, his jovial baritone chasing them down the corridor. Regulus approached through the fray, his mouth thinned, his eyes barely narrowing at James; he pinched Remus' hip as he passed, his hand twisted from James' view, and Remus bit back a slow smile, heat flooding his cheeks, bright and hot.

James stared down the corridor, his eyes wide behind his glasses, muttered "Oh, fuck me," as Regulus disappeared, melted into a press of Ravenclaw girls moving the opposite direction. "It's true, isn't it? You're shagging Sirius' brother."

"I might be," Remus grumbled, frowning out over James' shoulder. "What do you care?"

"Damn it, Moony. I know you're angry, but this... this isn't," James huffed quietly, pushed his hand through his hair, "this won't fix it."

"It has nothing to do with Sirius," Remus said, his voice steady, nearly honest.

"Of course it does, Moony!"

Remus laughed, harshly, the sound stabbing up through the heavy ache in his chest. "I've been shagging him for weeks. You lot miss me so fucking much, but you never even noticed."

"Peter noticed," James admitted quietly. Remus blinked, only partially surprised; Peter was soft and nervous, slower with his magic than James and Sirius, but he was deliberate, patient, observant, had been the first of them to realise that Remus was a werewolf. "He said as much, about two weeks ago, but I... I rather didn't believe him."

Remus shrugged, turning to leave, sighing irritably when James caught his arm.

"I don't care," James said, his fingers curling in Remus' sleeve. "We still miss you."

"Sirius won't, when you tell him."

"I won't tell him, if that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want," Remus snarled, jerking his arm from James' grasp.

--

Hogsmeade Saturday dawned bleakly, grey and wet; wind whistled through the trees, rattling the windows, and rain poured down in heavy sheets, splashing into deep puddles, churning the courtyard into a muddy wreck. James and Sirius and Peter headed to Honeydukes through the One-Eyed Witch, Peter anxious and Sirius solemn, James casting dark, baleful looks at Remus from the bottom of the stairs, and Remus brought Regulus to the Room of Requirement, his hand around Regulus' wrist, his thumb brushing the flutter of Regulus' pulse as he thought about what he wanted.

(Regulus underneath him, naked and gasping)

They fucked in a long, narrow sleigh bed, tucked under an arching window, rain creasing the coloured glass in thick rivulets and Regulus arching up into Remus' mouth, his fingers twisted in the crimson sheets, his thighs shaking around Remus' head, and then against the wall, Regulus holding them both up with a spell, Remus' prick spurting hot and thick on Regulus' belly and Regulus' mouth sliding wetly up Remus' jaw, and again on the floor, in front of a squat, marble hearth, Regulus choking out a moan as Remus pushed inside him, the fire burning so brightly it burnished their skin gold.

Remus stretched out on the bed afterward, sighed as Regulus slid in after him, crawling over him, his head under Remus' chin and his arm curled around Remus' waist, and he fell asleep with Regulus' sweat-slick skin under his hands, Regulus' dark hair sifting through his fingers.

--

Sirius found them halfway through rounds, trading lazy kisses outside Greenhouse Four, Regulus' hands under Remus' robes, Remus pressed back against the warm, sweaty glass; he shook as he cradled Regulus' elbow, white-lipped and furious, every line in his body a slow, dangerous threat, but his voice was quiet, deadly calm, and the narrow grief in his grey eyes twisted the constant, sullen ache in Remus' chest.

"If you hurt him," Sirius said, his mouth just grazing Regulus' ear, "I will kill you."

Remus closed his eyes, didn't watch Sirius walk away.

--

"He asked me to come with him, you know," Regulus muttered, curled up on the deep couch the Room of Requirement had provided, his voice bruised and thick, a half-empty wine bottle tilting out of his lap. "When he ran away."

"I know," Remus said, sliding his arm around Regulus' shoulder, shifting as Regulus pressed closer, his head sagging onto Remus' chest. "He told me."

"I don't know where he expected me to go."

"James' place, I guess."

Regulus kissed him, his mouth hot and his tongue bitter with wine. "Potter rather doesn't like me."

"He doesn't, no," Remus admitted, quietly, his hand brushing through Regulus' hair, "but James would've done for you, if Sirius had asked."

"Fuck Sirius," Regulus murmured, lifting the bottle to his mouth.

--

Easter hols were rainy and stark, dark with the new moon, frozen from a heavy, endless wind. Regulus came back to school quiet, thoughtful, his eyes dull and his shoulders curled inward; his kisses were empty, strangely sour, and he shied away from Remus' hands, shivered whenever Remus tried to touch him.

"What is it?" Remus asked, finally, under the willow in the courtyard, when the wind was starting to die and Regulus was meant to be in Ancient Runes.

Regulus shrugged, frowning, tugged his wrist away from Remus' hand. "It isn't anything."

He crowded Regulus into a broom cupboard, an hour after supper, catching him alone near the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, and he fucked Regulus the only way Regulus would allow it, up against the wall, Regulus' trousers shoved down to his knees, Remus' chest to his back and Remus' hands on his hips. Regulus stroked himself, his hand matching the rough snap of Remus' thrusts, his other arm braced on the wall, and Remus realised it as Regulus dropped his head, moaning, as Regulus came between Remus and the wall, his spine curving in a long, beautiful line.

Remus thrust into him hard, coming hot and thick, dug the heel of his hand into the soft skin of Regulus' forearm, into the shadow under his sleeve. The noise Regulus made was sinister, broken. Dark.

"I don't want to talk about it," Regulus said, quietly, curling his arm against his chest as Remus buttoned his trousers.

Remus kissed him long and slow before opening the door. "Neither do I."

--

Remus dormitory was a bit messier than he remembered, still smelled faintly of sweat, Quidditch, unwashed laundry. Sirius was the only one awake, a slumped shadow in the centre of his bed, his wand lit and a book open in his lap; he looked up as Remus pushed through the door, smiled hopefully when Remus perched on the edge of his bed.

"Moony," he said, cautiously, setting his book aside. "I'm sorry."

Remus smiled, his fringe hanging in his eyes. "I know."

"Is it... are you," Sirius paused, his mouth twisting, not quite a smile, "are you and Regulus still... you know."

"No. That's finished," Remus said, slowly, unable to decide if he was lying to Sirius or himself.