JUDAS

This story is for Susan

His fingernails, broken, bitten and dirty, scraped against the glass of the window. The sound, even through the howling of the wind, was shrill, undeniably clear. Peering in from the darkness at the circle of orange light cast by a candle, he saw Remus start and raise his gaze from the book on his lap. His eyes, warm brown, like polished oak, seemed darker than usual in the pale face, and his gestures as he pushed longish strands of hair away from his face made Sirius' heart clench.

He leaned against the wall of the little house, waiting for his heart to stop racing. It was hunger that made him dizzy and weak, he told himself, hunger and exhaustion. Two rats in three days were really not enough to sustain him, but he knew he couldn't waste time hunting.

In the warmly lit interior of the house Remus got up from his place, putting the book away carefully. Sirius saw his fingers tremble a little as if he considered reaching for his wand. He didn't though, just walked to the door.

"Who's there?" The voice was soft, slightly worried and so painfully familiar that for a moment Sirius couldn't speak, his throat closed. He could feel Remus waiting, very quiet behind the door, and forced himself to respond; to say in a hoarse, rasping voice:

"It's me."

For a moment he thought Remus wouldn't recognize him, and desperation filled him. Almost at the same moment, he thought that maybe it would be for the best. Then the door screeched open, casting a square of warm light on the freezing ground. He stepped into the light. Remus' eyes were enormous, glittering almost unbearably, and the expression in them was so intense that Sirius couldn't figure it out, no matter how he tried.

He attempted to smile but it didn't come off; his lips felt numb, and he thought the smile would only frighten Remus. He knew how he looked - unshaven, his hair tangled, and his clothes torn and stinking; knew that there was this wild look in his eyes that he couldn't make go away.

"Sirius," Remus whispered.

The warm air coming from the house was almost painful, and for the first time in days Sirius realised how cold he was; icy air blowing through the tears in his robes that had just recently been quite new. He shivered. Remus stepped back and aside slightly, leaving the doorway open, and for a moment Sirius almost couldn't believe that it meant what he thought it did; but his body acted before his mind could stop him, and he walked in, into the warmth and the sweet, cosy smell. Remus always smelt warm and cosy; like fruity tea and homemade cookies. His house smelt this way too.

"Remus," he breathed out, and all other words escaped him.

He knew it was wrong to come here; wrong to put Remus into this position, to endanger him. He knew quite well that he could be turned away from the doorstep - that Remus might not want to talk to him, might spit in his face.

But Sirius had still come - because after all the days that had jumbled for him into an untidy pile of misery and remorse, of running and chasing, he suddenly felt he couldn't bear it for one moment longer. Couldn't bear it without a chance to see one more time how the flickering light reflects in Remus' eyes, turning them almost to gold. He wanted something - at least this one thing - to last him through the rest of it.

He didn't want to scare Remus. He didn't want to hurt him. But he most likely had.

"I'm sorry."

Remus' eyes widened slightly. Sirius knew it was too little, these words were not enough; a tiny, sane part of his brain urged him to turn and leave, not make it more difficult for Remus than it already was. But the warmth of the house was overwhelming, seeping into Sirius' exhausted body, making him feel wobbly. He'd been holding himself tight for so long, but now something was crumbling in him.

The ground slid away from under his feet as he stumbled forward, falling, waiting for the hard floor to hit him any moment. Then thin, long arms wrapped around him, catching him; he felt a hard chest supporting his weight, and Remus' smell and warmth were all around him, wispy light-brown hair tickling his face.

And despite everything he'd been through over the past few days, it was only this Sirius thought might be more than he could endure.

"Moony," he whispered, the word hurting his throat. Shudders racked his body, and the arms wrapped around him tighter; holding, cradling him. "Please don't make me go, Moony, please. Just for a short while."

He felt one soft, gentle hand slide over his back, stroking his shoulder-blades.

"Of course, Padfoot." Remus' breath was warm against Sirius' ear, his voice so unbearably kind that Sirius felt suddenly that the tight string in his chest, stretched and stretched since Halloween, would now snap. He didn't know what he would do, cry or laugh - he'd been able to do neither for days - but he knew if he started he wouldn't be able to stop. "You don't have to go anywhere. You can stay."

The palm kept stroking his back. Maybe crying in Remus' arms would be okay.

The string loosened somewhat, but Sirius didn't want Remus to stop holding him. He hid his face, ashamed, against Remus' shoulder - until his belly rumbled, embarrassingly loud. Remus let him go, pushing him away slightly.

"I'll get some food for you. You must be starving."

"Yes," Sirius whispered. "All right. But a shower first."

* * *

He sat in the bathtub with his legs crossed, holding his ankles. His grip was so hard that his fingers were leaving marks, his knuckles going white. Sirius barely realised it. His clothes lay on the floor next to the tub, in a heap like a dead, stinking animal, and he felt sickness rise in his throat at the thought of it.

The water, hot and plentiful, lashed over his shoulders. He knew it wasn't enough; he should really start scrubbing, cleaning himself of all the dirt that stuck to his skin. He just couldn't make himself move. It was pointless anyway; no matter how much he cleaned himself, it wouldn't change anything. The dirt wouldn't go away. The water rolled off him, already tainted.

The hollow, sucking cavern in his chest was spreading, swallowing him entirely. Sirius hunched his shoulders, clenching his jaws, trying to suppress something, he didn't know what - a howl, a sob? His eyes behind the closed eyelids burned, the image of the debris on the floor of the house in Godric's Hollow imprinted on his retinas forever.

There was a shift of air behind him, and Sirius jerked, turning back abruptly. Remus stood in the doorway, small stains of pink on his cheeks.

Sirius moved feverishly, shifting his hand, covering his groin hastily - even though there was nothing new Remus could see, they had seen each other so many times in the showers at Hogwarts.

"Towels," Remus said, putting the bunch of white soft cloth onto the edge of the tub.

How thin and tired he looks, Sirius thought, a pang of pain shooting through his chest, making him crouch instinctively. Those shadows under his eyes, they had not been there when Sirius had seen him last. But then, it was such a long time - a lifetime - ago.

He looked at the currents of water swirling around his feet, and his voice was gone again, turned so hoarse there was almost no sound. He took a mouthful of hot water, swallowing it hastily, afraid that by the time he would be able to talk there would be no one to talk to.

But Remus didn't leave, he stayed leaning against the doorjamb. Sirius could see it out of the corner of his eye; couldn't bear looking at him fully.

"I didn't…" he started. "I didn't betray them."

The sound Remus made was halfway between a gasp and a sigh. Sirius couldn't bring himself to look up, to search out signs of doubt or anger in Remus' face. His words didn't change anything anyway; his guilt was enormous and would always be there.

"Yes," Remus said in a soft, quiet voice that seemed to tear something in Sirius's chest. "I know. You didn't."

He almost couldn't believe it; he hadn't dared hope for these words. He didn't expect to be trusted, even by Remus - especially by Remus, with the memory of the Shrieking Shack still lingering between them. And no matter how much he had told himself he could live without Remus' trust, the joy he felt now was overpowering. It was more than he could stand - just like his grief and his guilt were more than it was possible to bear.

"But I… I killed them anyway," he whispered. "As good as killed them."

Remus shifted from one foot to the other, and Sirius hid his face in one hand, the other still covering his groin. Despite his guilt, despite his despair - what an animal he was… something in him still was reacting at Remus' closeness. Remus didn't have to know; Sirius wouldn't forgive himself for revealing it.

"I couldn't even go to the funeral," he whispered, half-audibly.

"I was there," Remus said. Sirius wanted to know more but couldn't bring himself to ask.

"And the little one, Harry…" The words were barbs in his throat, hurting it.

"He's safe, Sirius," Remus said approaching him. "He's safe."

He felt Remus coming closer, as aware of it as one would be of a source of intense heat or light. Part of him wanted to shrink away, to spare Remus from touching someone so soiled as him; but a part of him wanted this closeness so desperately that he couldn't think of avoiding it.

"Let me," Remus said softly, kneeling at the tub. "You're not doing a very good job of washing yourself."

A thin arm in a frayed washed-out sweater reached past him, to take the soap, and Sirius shivered, his teeth chattering. The heat in his groin rose so much that the hand wasn't enough to hide it, but of course he didn't move it away, and Remus seemed not to notice. Thin fingers touched his back, running over his shoulders, rubbing soapy fluid into them.

He couldn't believe it was happening; he couldn't believe he was experiencing it, so close to complete joy… something that could feel so wonderful. Remus' hands were warm and soft, sliding over his shoulder-blades; gripping his shoulders, massaging them, untangling the knots there.

Please. Please, he thought, don't you know what you're doing to me? Kneeling like that. So close. With me naked. But Remus wasn't going away.

He hadn't known he was so tired and aching but now the awareness was seeping into his body, and Remus' touch was chasing it away. Sirius wanted to lean into it, to moan in pleasure and pain but didn't dare, didn't dare to uncurl from over his lap where his cock was hard and straining.

He couldn't let Remus know. He had hidden it before, when they were still at Hogwarts - and later, for all those years. He couldn't bring it up now; Remus didn't deserve that, the time was just wrong, with him on the run and considered a traitor, and their friends dead… just wrong.

He knew there probably wouldn't be a right time for it but he knew just as well that he couldn't think about it now.

A bottle of shampoo and a pink fluid scented with peaches, and soft foam covered his hair; Remus' thin, careful fingers massaging it into his scalp.

"Close your eyes, it'll sting," Remus said.

Sirius did, content to feel nothing but Remus' fingers sliding through his hair, shampooing, untangling it. If there were nothing but these fingers, nothing in the whole world, he would sit like this forever - he would be a happy man, he would never want it to end. And then there would be no guilt, no grief, no scalding regret for the wrong choices and wrongdoings, and Sirius wouldn't be a criminal; wouldn't feel like one.

Water ran over his shoulders, washing off the shampoo. He felt Remus touch him again with soapy fingers, on his chest now.

It was dangerous - too close to the hand hiding his erection. He jerked away, covering himself, his eyes snapping open. Remus' face, pale, was calm, the lowered eyelashes hiding his gaze. He had the longest eyelashes Sirius had ever seen…

I want to kiss your face. The thought was painful, stabbing like a knife, and he couldn't banish it, no matter how he tried. The huge honey-brown eyes rose to look at him as he twisted away, freeing himself from Remus' soapy hands.

"I can finish it myself." It came out grumpily, awkwardly, not the way he wanted to say it at all - but Remus just nodded and got up. The sleeves of his sweater and the front of his pants were dark and soaked with water.

"I'll make something for you to eat then," he said, and walked to the door. Sirius wanted to stop him, make him stay - just for a little while longer, just for the chance to look at his face for longer. But he knew it was for the best.

The door closed, and he hit the tap, turning the water icy-cold. It made him grit his teeth; it was almost excruciating in its coldness but it did nothing to his erection. Finally he gave up, finished washing and got out of the tub.

There was a bathrobe under the towels but he didn't dare to put it on, instead casting another cleaning spell on his clothes. It didn't work too well; there was too much dirt on them, and the fabric was getting thinner - soon it would fall apart under his hands, if he kept doing that.

At least the clothes hid his hard-on. He decided not to pay attention to it; it was the only possible way of dealing with it.

* * *

Remus turned from pouring the soup for him, his eyes slightly widening and looking mildly reproachful.

"You've put those rags on again."

"I'm sorry." The giggle that came was half-hysterical. "I hope they don't stink too much."

There was something close to upset in Remus' eyes but Sirius couldn't say if it was because of his inappropriate laugher or something else.

The soup smelt rich and dizzying; he felt lightheaded again, nearly swayed, but at least this time Remus didn't have to catch him. There were sandwiches, big ones; white bread and chicken breast and cucumbers… and cocoa, Sirius could smell cocoa, in a big mug right next to the plate. For a moment there was nothing else he could think about but food. Remus had noticed, it seemed.

"Please sit down."

He slid into the place and grabbed a sandwich. His stomach ached with the need to be filled, and Sirius barely could control himself not to pounce on the food like a hungry dog. The soup felt heavenly in his mouth. Remus pushed a strand of soft hair away from his face, sitting down across the table.

"Won't you eat?" Sirius asked, swallowing. Salty soup and sweet cocoa mixed in his mouth and it felt wonderful, shamefully wonderful - he didn't deserve it.

"I've eaten already." The answer was soft, almost apologetic. "It's quite late."

Yes, it was late. Days and nights were mixed up for Sirius recently, signifying only that by day he had to hide and by night he could move on and continue his pursuit.

Remus' thin hands clasped in a painful, anxious gesture, wringing each other. He has such beautiful hands, Sirius thought; fingers so thin and long. He remembered Remus' hands - probably the first thing he'd noticed about him, at the Sorting Feast on his first day at Hogwarts. Sorted into Gryffindor, and his new housemates eyed him warily; a Black among them, a cuckoo's egg dropped into their nest. Then the new first-year walked up to their table, sat down next to him, and a small, thin hand was extended for Sirius to shake.

"I'm Remus Lupin. Looks like we'll be classmates from now on."

He remembered those hands as they clenched on the sheets in the infirmary when Remus found out about Sirius' prank on Snape with the Shrieking Shack. Remus' usually kind face had been distorted with anger.

"How could you, Padfoot?"

His own stumbling, helpless words as the realisation of how much he had endangered Remus slammed into him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think, I'm sorry…"

He never wanted to hurt Remus. All he wanted was to make him happy, to make him smile; make his eyes catch the light when he laughed. He wanted to be as rich as his family was to give Remus everything he deserved.

All of it was impossible now. All of it. Remus would never know…

The thought was impossible to bear, all of a sudden. Sirius couldn't take another mouthful, the food stuck in his throat. Remus looked at him in concern, as if sensing something was wrong. Sirius' voice sounded so hoarse he hardly recognised it himself.

"If there was one thing you could do, Remus… just one thing before everything goes to hell… what would you do?"

The gentle face changed slightly, a shadow flitting over it.

"Save James and Lily, of course."

Sirius felt blood rushing into his face in shame. He hadn't thought of that, he'd been so wrapped up in his own feelings. But he didn't mean it like that; he meant something that still could be done, that wasn't too late to do.

"I just…"

There were so many regrets in his life, so many things gone wrong. He didn't know whether he was adding one more to them.

"Remus…"

He got up and moved - and miraculously, as if knowing what Sirius wanted him to do, Remus got up as well - and as they stepped aside there was no more table between them. Sirius reached, and Remus didn't back away from him.

The body in his arms was thin and rigid, the skin feeling hot even through the wool of the sweater, and Remus didn't push him away. And it was all Sirius could think about, it was all that mattered, for a moment.

He covered Remus' mouth with his, and Remus' lips opened, and there was no barrier to prevent his tongue from sliding in. He felt the warmth of Remus' mouth and the taste of the tea, sweet and spicy, and it was Remus in his arms, just like he dreamed about it; Remus, thin and bony, his hair feathery. The golden eyelashes rose and fell slowly over eyes dark with dilated pupils.

Time stopped meaning anything. Sirius thought it could last forever; Remus in his arms, their mouths joined; even if after that Sirius died from shame, he still couldn't forfeit this moment. Then Remus' hands rose; not to shove him away, but to pull him closer, to wrap around him.

Sirius couldn't resist any more, the unbearable heat in his belly flaring up. His groin slammed forward. It was wrong and obscene, the way he rubbed against Remus. He had wanted it to be different, slow and gentle; wanted to show Remus as best he could, to show how good it could be. But he couldn't bear it, his hands clenched on Remus' forearms so hard he was leaving bruises - and he thrust and thrust forward, even as he realised in his shame that Remus wasn't, couldn't be aroused.

But Remus kept holding him, and his palms stroked Sirius's sides softly, as if he knew; as if he understood there was no way to stop. Then his hand slid lower, in the way of the blunt, clumsy thrusting through two layers of clothes; ran lightly just once over the straining shaft.

Sirius froze, a spasm of almost painful pleasure running through his body - and wetness spread on the front of his pants.

It was shameful and wrong and he felt guilty, and yet he couldn't help it. He slumped over Remus' shoulder, in the ring of supporting arms, and felt Remus keep stroking his back, cradling him as if he was a small boy crying. Sirius wasn't crying - but maybe at this moment he was closer to it than ever before.

"I'm s-sorry," he stammered.

"It's okay," Remus whispered against his ear, his warm lips nearly touching Sirius' skin. "It's okay. I understand."

Sirius shivered. No, he didn't understand. He probably thought it was because Sirius was on the run, too lonely for too long, too starved for human touch. He didn't know…

He half-freed himself from Remus' hugging arms, looking at the pale, serious face.

"It's not like that, Remus, I…" Remus nodded as if knowing what he wanted to say - but he didn't, he didn't really. He still held onto Sirius, not quite letting him go. "I l-love y…"

The wand flicked in Remus' hands, cleaning him; cleaning the mess he'd made in his pants, interrupting Sirius's words.

"I'll make you some more cocoa."

He wasn't sure he could eat any more but Remus left him, walked to the kitchen, and Sirius could say nothing to stop him. He slumped on the chair, clutching the tangled strands of his hair. His lips still burned with the warmth of Remus' mouth; his body still felt weak and weightless with pleasure. Even his shame couldn't do anything to chase away this pleasure.

He hoped Remus wouldn't hate him for violating him like this. He never knew how Remus would feel about being with a man. There were some dates, Sirius knew, and knowing that had driven him insane with jealousy, but he forbade himself to ask anything; even whether they were girls or men.

The thin figure appeared in the doorway again, a mug in Remus' hand. He walked up, put it in front of Sirius. The cocoa smelt almost stunning. He raised his eyes to Remus, seeing the pale, delicate face and untidy falling brownish hair. Something was snapping in his mind, something he couldn't control any more.

He got up - and Remus' arms were again around him. He almost moaned at the acute feeling of joy. Remus' gentle hand touched his hair, pushing heavy strands away from his face. Maybe… maybe Remus didn't hate him.

"Moony," he whispered; the flickers of orange light in Remus' eyes were blinding. His eyelashes fell, covering the eyes, in a wordless nod. And Sirius couldn't be silent any more, the words breaking out of him. "I wanted it for so long, I wanted you for so long. Didn't you know? I wanted so many things… I don't know if we have time for them but if you let me… I want to kiss your throat, the hollow between your collarbones. I want to kiss your hair, smell it when it gets moist after sex. I want to kiss your chest, to know how your nipples taste when they harden under my lips… I want your cock in my mouth, want to run my tongue down to it over your belly…"

A part of him was still afraid he was talking nonsense; that he was scaring and shocking Remus. But he couldn't stop. And there was no shock or rejection in Remus' face - and Sirius was afraid to believe in it, believe in being accepted. Now, just like that, as a fugitive; branded as a traitor, and with James and Lily so recently gone.

But Remus' hands kept rubbing over his arms awkwardly, as if he was eager to do something but didn't know what exactly. And the closeness of their bodies, their groins connected, told him what he wanted to know so much - Remus was hard.

"May I, Remus?" he whispered, not knowing what exactly what he asked for. "May I?"

And Remus nodded, and the only word broke from his lips: "Yes. Yes."

His skin under the sweater pulled up by Sirius' hasty hands was smooth and very hot; the lines of the ribs visible under it, the thin traces of the scars white and long. Sirius touched them with the tips of his fingers, carefully, then with his lips, and felt a hitching breath in Remus' chest. At this moment, he thought, nothing could compare to it, nothing could reach this pinnacle of keen happiness that he felt now. It was everything - almost everything he had ever dreamed of.

Remus was with him. His Remus.

A soft sound outside the house was like a branch snapping in the wind. The shudder that went through Remus' body was short and violent, and Sirius pulled him closer, hugging him, trying to reassure him, to make him feel safe. The look in Remus' eyes was slightly wild as he stared around, as if trying to see through the impenetrable darkness behind the windows. He met Sirius' eyes, and there was something shining in his gaze, something Sirius couldn't understand at first.

"Remus…" He reached to his cheek, trying to comfort him. The deepest pools of darkness of Remus' pupils became even huger, and suddenly, as if something broke in Sirius's mind, he understood.

He understood it as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud, as if it was spelt out in burning letters for him. Guilt stared from Remus' eyes at him; guilt and fear.

He jerked back. Remus' look was miserable, his hand reaching after Sirius. He took this hand, the thin wrist so frail it always seemed to him it was possible to snap it in his grip.

The tips of his fingers were smeared in the grey dust of Floo powder.

I'll make you some more cocoa, he recalled.

He still could feel the heat, the smoothness of Remus' skin under his palms.

"Who did you call?" he asked softly.

For a moment there was a frown of incomprehension on Remus' face, and then he jerked as if from a blow.

"Who…? How can you… Aurors. Aurors, of course. It's for your own good, Sirius, don't you understand?"

The voice was pleading, the voice that could do almost anything to him, the voice he would like to hear when dying. Perhaps that wish of his would come true, Sirius thought. A bubble of laughter rose in him, threatening to burst and then, he thought, he wouldn't be able to stop. He still kept clutching Remus' wrist, and Remus didn't try to break away from him.

"Why now?" he asked, telling himself he needed this answer; he wouldn't be able to bear carrying this thought in himself, the thought that it was him who pushed Remus to it with his unwanted touches, his insistence. "Why didn't you do it… when I was in the bathroom?"

"I wanted you to…" Remus' voice was so quiet the words were difficult to decipher. "You were so tired. I wanted you to eat."

It was almost impossible not to start laughing; Sirius didn't know how he managed to avoid it. He looked around; there were no more sounds coming. So, maybe, maybe it was not too late yet.

He let Remus' hand go, and it dropped like a dead weight. Sirius walked to the door and threw it open. No curses came slamming into his chest. Too little time as yet for them to gather their forces against such a dangerous criminal as he was.

He walked down the porch and stepped onto the frozen, hoarfrost covered ground.

"Sirius!" There was something desperate in Remus' voice. "Wait! You don't understand, you can't keep running…"

He turned from the darkness to see the thin, disheveled figure in the square of light in the doorway. Remus' fingers were clutching the rails, and under his crumpled sweater a patch of white skin was visible over the belt of his pants.

Sirius looked at him for a few seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, trying to absorb as much with his eyes as possible. It'll have to last me for a lifetime, he thought, feeling a fitful smile curve his lips.

"Go back," he said, "it's too cold."

The next moment, Aurors started landing around the house with popping sounds. He stepped farther into the shadows, transforming; a black dog invisible in the black night. He ran, leaving the house and Remus behind.

THE END