Thanks to springandsummer and ladielazarus for thoughtful discussion, and Eike for thoughts and thorough beta. Always appreciated!
For my dog, Rommel. I miss you.

Breakfast was one of the most important meals of the day, and as it happened, it was Remus's favourite. Particularly on a Sunday.

On Sunday, he didn't charm the clock radio to wake him at half-six. He still woke then, but that was more out of habit and the desire to consciously take note of the arms that were around him. He then settled back to doze happily until Sirius yawned and shifted, and possibly drooled on his shoulder. (The drooling had become an increasing problem since becoming an Animagus; it was of great personal concern to Sirius himself, but Remus comforted him with the knowledge that as it only happened when he slept, Remus would be the only one to see it).

Sunday meant staying in bed with Sirius until one of their stomachs grumbled at being empty -- usually Sirius's. He would then drag himself out of bed and begin the task of cooking breakfast, leaving Remus to soak in a few more moments of rest beneath soft, cotton sheets.

The smell of delicious food cooking invariably got Remus up and out of bed, shuffling into the small living area in slippers and a bathrobe. He would find their table set for two, copies of the Times and Daily Prophet next to their respective plates, and off-key singing coming from the kitchen.

This Sunday was no different. Remus sat in his place happily and scanned the headlines of the Times, vaguely listening to Sirius murder a song. The singing digressed into more-palatable-less-murderous humming as Sirius emerged from the kitchen, frying pan and spatula in hand. He served Remus breakfast with his usual aplomb, Remus unable to help from admiring Sirius as he walked back into the kitchen to collect toast and tea.

When Sirius finally joined him, breakfast could begin in earnest. Death Eaters put a tiny wrinkle in their Sunday as they discussed the latest news; Remus reading out incidents from the Muggle paper, Sirius trying to correlate them to known Death Eater activity reported in the Prophet. There were one or two leads, but by and large, nothing seemed to fit.

The sadness and anxiety from the outside world was forgotten, however, when they both attacked each paper's crossword. Sirius maintained the Prophet's crossword was far superior, given that in the event he couldn't answer the questions, the crossword would fill in the blanks for him. Remus argued that the Times crossword was more of a challenge; not only was it completely Muggle-based, but if he didn't know the answer (which was rare), it wouldn't fill in the blanks for him.

Sirius insisted it was a substandard way of doing things, but they still tried to help each other out with silly answers.

Remus sipped his tea. "What's a six-letter word for 'one who cries'?"

"I don't know," Sirius mused, "'Bawler', maybe?"

"Huh. I was thinking 'Sirius'," Remus answered, keeping his eyes lowered.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh ha-bloody-ha."

"Just a thought." A smile twitched at the corner of Remus's lips. He did enjoy baiting Sirius; it was always so amusing to watch him flare like a candle.

"Feel free to keep thoughts like those to yourself," Sirius sniffed.

"Fine." Remus set down his teacup and made a cursory gesture with his hand.

Sirius leaned forward, squinting at Remus almost comically. "Have you ever even cried, Moony? You know; shed a tear, wept, blubbered, wailed, howled--"

"I've howled plenty," Remus interrupted. "But I know what you mean... and no." He paused for a moment, eyes never leaving the page. "Why do you ask?"

"No real reason," Sirius answered, "Just never seen you do it, and I thought you were the more... er, emotional one of the two of us."

Remus snorted. "Says the man who can't complete each day without at least two histrionic fits over something."

"I don't cry, though." Sirius summarily ignored the insult.

Remus shook his head. "Don't make me prove it."

"You can't."

Putting down his paper, Remus numbered points on his long fingers. "You cried in third year when you stubbed your big toe so hard on the foot of James's bed you lost the nail. You cried when you ran away from home. You cried when Harry was born. You cried when you singed your hair on--"

"Enough," Sirius interrupted with a dramatic gesture. There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again, somewhat sullenly. "They were all perfectly good situations in which to cry, anyway."

"And that's fine for you, Padfoot. I just..." Remus frowned, attempting to articulate. "I just don't have the same emotional responses as you."

"You're a cold fish, Lupin," Sirius sighed.

"I'm quite warm, actually, Black, as you well know."

"But you're the bookish, thoughtful one the girls relate to."

Remus raised one eyebrow. "Meaning what, exactly?"

Sirius said nothing, save to spread some jam on another piece of toast. "I bet I could make you cry," he mused.

Remus sipped his tea. "Only if you attempt to sing again."

Sirius looked momentarily shocked, before arrogance wiped the surprised expression from his face. He stabbed some bacon with his fork and waved it in Remus's direction. "You are just envious of my dulcet tones."

"Caterwauling, more like it," Remus commented, dipping the corner of his toast into the runny yolk of his egg.

"Who," Sirius drawled dangerously, "are you calling a cat?"

"Definitely not you, Padfoot," Remus placated.

"That's what I thought you said," Sirius replied, biting the bacon ruthlessly. It made the corner of Remus's mouth curl up, watching Sirius break years of good breeding and mealtime etiquette.

The remainder of breakfast passed in amiable silence, save for the occasional quiet slurp of tea or sound of a page being turned.

Sirius put his fork down on his empty plate with a heavy sigh, leaning his chair back on two legs at a precarious angle.

"Have you had enough?" Remus asked after he'd swallowed another mouthful of toast.

"You should know by now, Moony, I'm insatiable," Sirius replied with a sharp grin that showed his perfect teeth. Remus shook his head when Sirius ruined his perfectly suave demeanour by giving him an exaggerated wink.

Remus gathered their plates and made his way over to the sink. Of course, he could always use magic to clean up (like Sirius did, when he deemed it appropriate to clean up, which he almost never did), but Remus tended to do some of his best navel-gazing with suds up to his elbows, looking out their tiny kitchen window to the street below.

Sirius wandered over to stand behind him as he ran water from the tap. A warm hand trailed briefly down his spine. "Well, while you do things the long way, I think I'm going to work off some of this delicious breakfast." He drummed both hands on his flat stomach.

"Any excuse you can think of to go lift your leg on the new playground equipment is fine by me."

"That is not the only reason," Sirius answered, wounded, "but it is a very good one. You're going to join me, aren't you?"

"Soon," Remus promised. "When I'm finished the dishes."

"It takes you too long."

"It takes me just long enough. Besides, you don't have to wait for me; you can head down already."

"I think I will," Sirius replied. No sooner had he made up his mind, a large, black, shaggy dog occupied the place where Sirius had been standing. Remus smiled at the canine indulgently.

"The stairs and path might be slippery because it rained last night. Don't run until you get to the park." Padfoot barked once in response, walking in a little circle. "Oh, and don't track mud back up the stairs or Mrs Plevcak will have both our furry hides."

Padfoot made what sounded like a disgusted snort. With a mock-threatening gesture, Remus stepped forward to roll up his copy of the Times. "Don't give me that face; you're not the one she yelled at last time."

With a high-pitched yelp at the sight of the newspaper, Padfoot backed off and clawed the door open.

Unexpectedly, a white owl tore through the newly-open door. Remus blinked in surprise, and Padfoot followed the bird's flight path carefully. Zorro dropped a bit of rolled parchment into Remus's hands before finding a perch. Onyx eyes stared at Remus expectantly, waiting for a reward.

Remus drew in a wary breath; Zorro was an Order owl, usually bringing missives from Alastor Moody.

With a murmured 'thank you', Remus unrolled the parchment and scanned it briefly.

"The park will have to wait, Padfoot," Remus told him shortly, "We have work to do."

Sirius transformed with a muttered oath.

***

An hour later, Remus and Sirius found themselves dressed and standing amid the abandoned and derelict containers of the now-closed docks.

"This is bollocks," Sirius sighed. "He's not going to show up."

"We'll give Dumbledore's contact another fifteen minutes," Remus decided, pulling his brown overcoat around him more tightly to keep out the light drizzle.

Sirius glared up at the overcast sky. "This is not my idea of a good Sunday."

"You don't find it amusingly ironic we're spending it at the Isle of Dogs?"

"Not at all. 'Amusingly ironic' would be, say, if all wizards lived in Wandsworth." Remus grinned at that. "I never cared for irony, personally," Sirius continued loftily. "Besides, it's raining on my leather and I still have a large breakfast to work off."

Remus nodded, understanding Sirius's urge to run free and leave the problems of the world behind. He looked around at the greying, crumbling warehouses and discarded machinery. "Did you know the Isle of Dogs was heavily bombed by the German Luftwaffe during World War II?" Remus mused, turning to address Sirius only to find he'd disappeared from sight.

"Sirius?" he called hesitantly, hand creeping to his inner jacket pocket.

There was a moment of terrible silence before he heard a scraping sound. Remus's wand was halfway out of the jacket when he heard Sirius mutter a harmless swear.

"Ay?" Sirius's grunted, reappearing from behind a nearby container, dragging two wooden crates along the ground. "What was that about a war?" He arranged the crates side by side and sat on one, gesturing to the other. Remus quashed his relief by sitting down, bumping his knees slightly into Sirius's'.

"The Muggle war in the 40's. This area took heavy damage."

Sirius's grunted. His interest was purely intellectual -- he'd never paid much attention to Muggle world politics.

"As a matter of fact," Remus continued, "they still tend to find a lot of unexploded shells in this area."

At the same time, Remus and Sirius both slowly looked down to the crates they were currently sitting on.

"So... you're saying I shouldn't have grabbed the ones that were still ticking?" Sirius asked.

There was a pregnant pause before Remus pushed a laughing Sirius off the crate. "You," he announced with disgust, "are an utter arse."

Sirius wiped his eyes in amusement. "You forgive me."

Remus's laughter stopped abruptly when he heard a noise close by. Sirius heard it too, judging by the way he'd also ceased laughing and rolled into a crouch.

He looked up at Remus, head cocked to the side, and Remus understood so well why Sirius's animal form was a dog -- the resemblance to his alter ego right now was uncanny.

He made a two-fingered gesture with his left hand towards the dirty orange container, right hand reaching to the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Remus nodded, wand already in hand.

Stealthily, Sirius and Remus began to circle the container, taking careful steps so as not to make any noise themselves. Remus lost sight of Sirius as they each took a side. He held his wand out in front of him, constantly moving it in a sweeping arc.

Eventually, he reached the corner of the rectangular container. Staying there for a moment, Remus took a deep breath before he sprang around the corner, wand drawn in a classic duelling stance, coming face to face with Sirius -- wand pointed in his direction.

They exchanged wary looks and lowered their wands, approaching each other.

"What do you suppose that noise was?" Remus asked in a low voice.

"Buggered if I know," Sirius replied.

Remus opened his mouth to speak again when a bright red flash shot between them, exploding in the ground mere inches away from their feet. Sirius and Remus both stumbled back a few steps, but a cloud of dust flew up into Remus's face, making him cough.

Without the distraction of dust, Sirius was quicker to see what had attacked them.

Standing on top of the container was a masked, hooded figure. His wand was pointed at them both, the tip crackling with light and energy. Another curse was imminent, and it seemed to Sirius that the Death Eater was pointing more towards the slightly incapacitated Remus.

Without a second thought, Sirius placed both hands on Remus's shoulders and gave him a hard shove.

"Hey--!" Remus's eyes widened almost comically as he lurched backwards, landing roughly on his rear. Another spell shot down, making another cloud of dust rise where Remus had just been standing.

Remus coughed again, dust still making his eyes water and throat scratchy. Regardless, he scrambled to his feet, pointing his wand at the top of the container.

He needn't have worried about that particular Death Eater; Sirius was doing an admirable job of drawing his fire. In fact, he could hear his friend's mad laughter echoing eerily through the empty shipyard.

"Missed!" he heard Sirius taunt faintly, followed by a steady stream of pops as curses exploded into walls and machinery.

The trouble was Death Eaters rarely travelled alone.

A rustle somewhere behind Remus's left shoulder made him dive into the relative safety of the container's shadow. An orange curse went whizzing over his head, and Remus crawled on his belly for a few feet before turning to fire a few hexes back.

There was a terrible moment of nothing. Remus had gotten himself into a fairly well covered position; he gauged that the Death Eaters were trying to ascertain his exact location before firing off more magic.

Two masked figures emerged from the shadows not a dozen feet away from him, their eyes black hollows beneath the skull-like facemasks. Remus waited for a clear shot, before petrifying the larger Death Eater on the left. The smaller seemed quicker, and dodged the stunning spell Remus hurled at him.

It appeared the shorter Death Eater had far better aim and more duelling experience than any of his compatriots; he Disapparated and Apparated between each fired curse, and even those were cutting it far closer to Remus than he felt comfortable with.

The distinct flash of a cruciatus came close to hitting him -- too close.

The light drizzle that had been falling all morning became slightly heavier; it was cold and made Remus's hair stick to his skin. He pushed his fringe out of his eyes, regretting not casting a water-repelling charm before they left the flat.

Water washed everything a dull, obscuring grey and impeded his visibility. The smaller Death Eater had vanished again, only to re-appear on top of the container, wand pointed at Remus.

Remus Disapparated, reappearing on top of the container behind his enemy. "Stupefy," he declared. The Death Eater only had time to partially turn before being struck by the spell. He dropped like a stone.

Remus kicked the wand out of the prone man's reach. It rolled off the edge of the container to make a soft thud on the ground. "Bugger." Remus screwed up his face. Ropes shot out of the end of his wand to bind the hooded figure. He was just about to kneel down and take off the mask when a flurry of bright flashes caught his attention.

"Sirius," Remus breathed, looking out over the abandoned lot. He could see many spells being fired back and forth.

A swooping, brown shape obscured his view for a few moments. Windjana, Kingsley Shacklebolt's exotic rufous owl, looked for a place to land. Finding no perch, she circled Remus's head once, to drop a scrap of parchment before flying away.

Remus dropped to his knees to pick it up. It was a simple message in unfamiliar scrawl.

Contact has been compromised. Meeting possibly a trap.

"I'd say so," Remus muttered sarcastically, crumpling the message. He looked out to his left towards Sirius's duel with the remaining Death Eater. There were a number of worrying flashes of green, only ever coming from one combatant. The other seemed to be firing red stunning spells.

Another flash of green, presumably heading for Sirius's location, made his decision easy. Taking a deep breath, Remus thought of Sirius' and Disapparated.

Arriving next to his friend suddenly came as a surprise, but Sirius nonetheless was glad to see him. He was crouched behind a stack of pallets, firing curses at his enemy with grim determination. Black hair was plastered wetly to his face and neck.

"Owl post," Remus said breathlessly, firing off a curse as cover for good measure. "This meeting just might be an ambush."

"No fucking kidding," Sirius gave a wry smile. "Any other company?"

"Two, but they're taken care of."

Sirius whistled. "An 'O' for Prefect Lupin and fifty points to Gryffindor."

"Shut it," Remus said, but couldn't help the smile that began to curl his lips. "Are you finished playing or can we get out of here?"

"I want to destroy him," Sirius's said calmly, and Remus was slightly troubled to realise how ruthless Sirius sounded.

Remus assessed the situation as objectively as he could. "You're in a stalemate," he said. "Neither of you can win unless you give up your cover."

"I can finish this," Sirius said stubbornly, getting up on his haunches.

Remus laid a hand on Sirius's free arm. "No, you can't. Not today."

"Remus--"

Just as Sirius was about to rise, a flash of green flew over the top of his head, sizzling the wooden pallets behind them.

"Please," Remus implored.

Sirius stared into Remus's eyes for a long moment, muscles in his jaw clenching irritably. Just when Remus thought he wasn't going to budge, Sirius exhaled. "Fine," he said, the faintest note of petulance in his voice.

With what he hoped was an inaudible sigh of relief, Remus's hand slipped from Sirius's arm down to his hand. Their fingers interlaced.

"Saygan Lane?" Remus suggested, mentioning the small alley by some shops they frequented in Camden, and a favourite arrival spot of theirs.

"Saygan Lane it is," Sirus confirmed, giving Remus's hand a squeeze. Firing off a final few curses, and on a whispered count, the two Order members Disapparated, leaving the Isle of Dogs behind.

***

Remus and Sirius arrived at the lane -- little more than a quiet under-trafficked alley, really -- backs pressed up against the wet brick of Sanderson's Dry Cleaners. Remus closed his eyes and exhaled in relief, head gently thumping against the wall.

The sound of Sirius sniggering made one of Remus's eyes crack open. He snuck a look beside him. "What's so funny?"

Sirius didn't answer, save to laugh some more. Remus watched Sirius rest his head against the wall, observing the wet, graceful slope of his neck -- white and pale, contrasting the charcoal hair stuck to his skin -- how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he laughed.

Remus couldn't help a little involuntary chuckle, which soon turned into a full-bodied laugh. Sirius's delight was tragically infectious. He kept laughing and slipped down the wall. A sound of surprise escaped Remus's lips as the wall rucked up his jacket and their interlaced hands forced him to join Sirius on the ground.

"Is the laughing an indication of some kind of head injury, or are you just mental?" Remus asked when his unexpected glee finally began to subside. Sirius still chuckled, chest shaking in amusement.

"You do know insanity runs in the family, right?" Sirius flashed him a grin.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Remus shook his head. He grew serious for a moment. "We should owl Moody. Or Dumbledore. Or Kingsley. Let them know what happened."

Sirius sighed. "Is that the first thing you can think of, Moony?"

"Well--"

"If we owl them now, they'll insist that we go into headquarters immediately. We'll have to be debriefed, submit reports, put our witness accounts into the pensieve... and then our Sunday will be over."

The idea was thoroughly distasteful to Remus. Knowing he was on a good thing, Sirius pressed every advantage available to him. He leaned closer until wet lips brushed the shell of Remus's ear. "Can't we wait for just a little while?"

"Sirius--"

"Please?" His voice was gruff, the timbre sending a shiver down Remus's spine. The tip of Sirius's tongue tracing Remus's earlobe finally unravelled him.

"...only a little while," Remus groaned in defeat, turning to press a kiss to Sirius's lips.

"Brilliant," Sirius mumbled, kissing him back with a fierce intensity. "There is one thing I had in mind, though," he said, cupping Remus's face in his hands, sucking Remus's kiss-swollen bottom lip.

"Oh?" Remus asked, somewhat dazedly.

"You promised me--" Another kiss, this one pressed to the soft skin beneath Remus's ear, "--a run in the park."

"I-- what?"

Sirius pulled back, wearing a cheeky grin. "I still have to work off breakfast."

Remus blinked incredulously at him. "You mean the ambush and Death Eater duel did not constitute as 'working off breakfast' to you?"

Leaning to press his forehead against Remus's, Sirius replied in a conspiratorial fashion. "Just between you and me, I'm rather complex."

"I stand by my former diagnosis of 'mentally unbalanced'."

Sirius laughed softly. "Be that as it may, we're still going to the park first."

"I suppose I have no choice," Remus sighed.

"None whatsoever!" Sirius replied cheerfully. "Last one there has a horribly inbred harpy for a mother!"

"What did you say about my mum?" Remus asked. There was a rippling around Sirius, and his wicked blunt-toothed white grin turning sharp and drooly. With two short, sharp barks, Padfoot got to his feet and sprinted out of the alley.

Remus shook his head placed his hands flat on the wall behind him to get up. Saygan Lane was ten minutes walk from their flat, and five minutes away from the park.

When Remus emerged from the lane and entered the street, he spied Padfoot, already half a block away. As if sensing Remus's presence, Padfoot turned back towards him. Tongue lolling out happily, Padfoot barked once more before continuing to lope down the street. Remus followed at a leisurely pace, in no particular rush to catch up.

The park was a favourite destination. It was small, but to neighbourhood children, invaluable. They loved it when Padfoot stopped by for a play and a romp; the dog often made out like a bandit, getting fed cakes and biscuits and all manner of other treats. Remus wondered if he'd be saddled with an Animagus with a stomach-ache before long.

Remus nodded to an elderly lady pruning her hedges, and followed Padfoot's wet footprints along the path. It wasn't raining quite as much back in Camden, but a light drizzle still prevailed. Remus popped the collar of his jacket up and shoved hands into lined pockets.

He tried to quash the guilty sensation of not reporting back to the Order immediately. Everything Sirius had said had been correct, though. Notify the Order, and their day was as good as finished.

As selfish as it was, Remus wasn't ready to give up the rest of his Sunday with Sirius, Death Eaters be damned.

And despite the interruption, the day was still relatively young, and there was still plenty of time to do... well, anything, really, before they eventually had to make a report.

Remus smiled a little at the endless possibilities stretched out in front of him and Sirius like a shimmering thread.

The squeal of tyres, a sickening crunch-thump and a yelp tore him forcibly from his daydreams. Remus's head shot up, hand automatically reaching for his wand again.

He peered ahead to see a lorry stopped in the middle of the street, right across from his destination. There were a few children and adults around and in front of the vehicle was... was...

"No." Remus's heart leapt into his throat, and he gasped.

He broke into a run, desperately hoping and praying what he saw was not, in fact, true.

TBC