My newest Remus/Sirius story. WARNING: Does contain MATURE SLASH. Enjoyyyy!

Not Quite

Remus Lupin honestly believed that his life could not reach a lower point. He had lost everything he had ever cared about years ago. There were many days when he did not understand why he continued to live. He had no hope of happiness to come in later weeks, months or years. His life, as it had always been, would be a life of torment and injustice. More often than not, he found himself seated in front of a dying fire in his small, gloomy living room drinking deeply from a bottle of firewhiskey. He would sit for hours, staring incessantly at the flickering flames, thinking and remembering and longing for the few happy years his life had seen. There were even times when he could have sworn Sirius' face had appeared in the embers. This, he always blamed on the alcohol when he came to his senses in the morning. Sirius Black was only a fond memory condemned to haunt his every movement for the rest of his life.

He had accepted years ago the fact that he would never see his lover again. He knew Sirius would remain in Azkaban for the rest of his life, however long or short that may be. There was no chance of his release and even slimmer probabilities of his escape. Still, Remus longed for him day in and day out, drowning himself in an onslaught of alcohol and men. More times than he cared to admit, he would loom in muggle bars, searching for any man that even slightly resembled Sirius. He would, either with the aid of alcohol or magic, convince them to accompany him back to his small suburban cottage, where he would only find disappointment when they did not kiss like Sirius kissed, bite like Sirius bit, or fuck like Sirius fucked. No matter how closely they resembled his lover, they could never compete with the real thing. This was a fact Remus knew well, and yet, he could not break his addiction. It was what he needed to make it through.

Some nights, Remus would stay at home and think about Sirius. He would wonder if Sirius still remembered him, or if the Dementors had successfully sucked every last memory of Remus out of the man's head. It would not surprise him, but the very thought of it stabbed into his heart painfully. He would lie in his bed and he would imagine Sirius in his prison cell, going mad as Dementors swooped over him constantly. The image never failed to raise bile in his throat. When it all became too much for him to handle, he would switch his train of thought to a happier track. He would try with all his might to remember his last night with Sirius before he had betrayed the Potters. Each time he tried, he found himself remembering less and less of that night. He could no longer remember the precise way Sirius smelled as his naked body lay atop Remus'. He could no longer hear the words Sirius had whispered in his ear as they had grinded against each other in desperate need. He couldn't even remember the look on Sirius' face as he came deep inside the werewolf. Tears often fell from his lashes at his own lack of memory.

When grief overcame him, he never could find the strength to pull himself out of it. Instead, his mind would float onto graver subjects, such as his lover's betrayal and the fact that Remus was still consumed by him. He felt guilty for still loving Sirius so fucking much even after the man condemned Lily and James Potter to death. He hated himself for loving Sirius Black so much. He felt like he too was betraying Lily and James by still loving the man who killed him. And yet, nothing he ever did could get the man out of his head. It was a curse he could not get rid of. It was just one more emotion to add to his incurable suffering.

He had forgiven Sirius for what he had done a long time ago. He wanted nothing more than to hold him and love him and find peace in his arms. Remus knew it was an unattainable dream, but he could not let it go. He could not move on. For this reason, he found himself in an embarrassingly familiar situation in late July four years after Sirius' imprisonment.

He stumbled over an empty bottle of firewhiskey as he was pushed backwards through the door to his bedroom by another one of his nameless men. He had chosen this one for his medium-length, black tresses that fell around his face almost exactly the way Sirius' had. The man kept him from falling by grabbing his shirt, succeeding in popping off several of its buttons. Unsteady as he was because of the alcohol Remus had continuously bought for him over the last few hours, he managed to keep the werewolf on his feet long enough to make it to Remus' bed. Their lips were locked, and Remus was vaguely annoyed by the number of times the man's teeth scraped his bottom lip. Sirius never kissed him like that. He was pushed into a sitting position on his bed, the man's knees placed haphazardly on either side of his hips. He was certainly not a shy man. He found the skin revealed by the buttons he had broken off of Remus' shirt and quickly dropped his lips to them, leaving a wet trail across the lycanthrope's scarred chest as he fumbled with the rest of the shirt's buttons.

"How'd you get these?" the man questioned as his lips trailed over pearly white expanses of damaged skin.

Remus did not answer. It was none of the man's business. Instead, he distracted him by falling back onto the comforter, pulling the man along with him, where they kissed feverishly for several minutes. The man smelled strongly of vodka. Sirius never smelled like that. Remus did everything he could to push away the voice that constantly compared every man he encountered to Sirius. It was a fruitless attempt, as Remus knew it would be. After all, the whole reason he was doing this was to, in some sick way, feel closer to Sirius.

The man had somehow worked Remus out of his shirt and was quickly advancing on his belt buckle. Remus grasped his hands and pulled him back up. The man sat with his knees on either side of Remus' hips once more, still peering at his scars. Remus dared him to say something about them again. The man kept silent as the werewolf pulled his shirt over his arms and head. He had a slight trace of a toned abdomen. It was not nearly as toned as Sirius' had been, but it was still pleasant to look at. Remus smiled as the man bent over to claim his lips once more. Remus allowed his eyes to drift closed. He secretly pretended it was Sirius who straddled him. He smiled against the lips upon his, even though they didn't kiss him right.

Both men found each other's belts at the same time, working them out of their jeans in unison. Somehow, Remus found himself naked first, though he did not mind. It always went this way with Sirius. This was something he was used to, he thought, as he slowly pulled the other man's jeans over his knees. The man kicked his pants off his feet and onto the floor as Remus crawled to the head of his bed, where he laid his hair angel-spread across the pillow. He saw a smile on the man's lips as he towered over Remus' lying figure. He nudged the lycanthrope's knees apart and nestled his torso there, his face daringly close to Remus' erection. It was only seconds before Remus felt the man's mouth close over him. He looked down, loving how much the scene he witnessed looked like his memories of Sirius. The man's hair that was so similar to Sirius' fell over the man's face to spread across Remus' stomach and thighs. It was just as Remus remembered. He felt his erection throb at the memory.

He tried to focus on what the man did to him, but he could only see and feel what he remembered this to be like when it was Sirius between his legs. He knew this man used more teeth than Sirius ever had, and he licked more than he sucked. That also was not what it would have been like with Sirius. And yet, Remus could not deny that this man knew what he was doing. When Remus allowed himself to drift away from the memories of Sirius and focus on what he was actually feeling, he found he still enjoyed himself more than he had with many others. He pumped his hips into the man's willing mouth in a steady rhythm. It was not long before the lycanthrope was spilling over deep in the man's throat. He bit his lip hard to stop Sirius' name from escaping his lips. His hands wound themselves into the man's hair, pulling tightly as his body shuddered and jerked uncontrollably. He was only vaguely aware of the man's attempts at avoiding a mouthful of Remus. However, Remus' grip on the man's dark hair did not allow him to get away. Sirius had always been glad to swallow Remus' seed. He pretended this man felt the same way. The man finally pulled away, spluttering as Remus' fingers loosened in his hair.

Remus tasted blood as he realized he had bitten down into his lip in his attempts to keep himself from screaming out. The man kissed him, tasting his blood and mixing it with tastes of what Remus had just forced him to drink. The werewolf felt as though this would have been pleasant, endearing even, if Sirius had done it. Because it was done by this man whose name he did not know or care to know, it succeeded in only being mildly awkward. Remus ignored this as he felt the man position his own throbbing need between the lycanthrope's legs. He was silently thankful that the man did not speak. He did not want his dreams shattered by his unfamiliar voice. This would be so much easier if he could simply pretend it was Sirius above him, preparing to push into him.

But it wasn't Sirius, and Remus could only close his eyes tightly, and grit his teeth against the pain of an unprepared entrance. The pain burned deep inside of him as the man unmercifully pushed into him. Remus could hear the man's breathing become more labored as he exerted every ounce of energy he possessed into his own release. Remus bit deeper into his lip to try and quench the pain he was in. He lay immobile upon the bed as the man pushed into him repeatedly, every stroke eliciting from him a soft grunt or moan. His pace quickened and Remus thought he may pass out from the pain of it all, when finally, the man cried out hoarsely, holding himself deep inside the lycanthrope before collapsing on his chest, sweat nearly dripping from his forehead. Remus released his abused lip as the man pulled out of him slowly and rolled off of his torso.

"Brilliant, mate," Remus heard the man say as he turned to the edge of the bed. He was already sitting, preparing to dress. Remus was not hurt by this fact. It was something he was very used to. But it was also something Sirius would have never done. He would have lounged next to the werewolf for hours before drifting off into sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms.

Remus looked at the man's back as he bent to pull up his jeans. The bumps of his spine were clearly visible beneath his skin. It reminded Remus of Sirius. He felt as though he had made a very good choice tonight. This man was one of the closest to Sirius he had ever brought home. Remus smiled slightly at the thought, carefully rolling onto his side to subside the pain the man had left him in.

Several minutes later, the man was fully dressed. Remus had found the energy to lazily drape his sheet over his pelvic area. The man looked back at him, a half-hearted smile playing across his face as he spoke.

"We should do this again sometime," he said, dropping a piece of paper with a series of numbers written on it onto Remus' nightstand. Remus nodded silently, trying to manage a grin. He was not sure whether he failed miserably or not. He assumed his attempt had been a failure when the man turned his back and made to leave the room.

Almost feeling sorry about the way Remus had used him, he propped his head up on his elbow, and said, "Do you need me to call you a cab?"

The man turned back for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. "No," he said, "I'll get home just fine." With that, he was out the door. Remus was left to his own thoughts.

He replayed the night in his head, changing the details that differed from what would have occurred had it really been Sirius with him. In his head, he had just had an amazing night with Sirius Black. He knew it was probably psychologically fucked up to think about these things so carelessly. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should not taint his memories of Sirius with fake ones of other men, but it was what kept him sane these days. These falsified memories gave him some happiness, even if it was short-lived. Soon enough, he would have another Sirius-lookalike and he would forget about this one. For the moment, he did not care about the psychological damage he knew he was inflicting upon himself.

He drifted into a nearly-peaceful slumber, waking up hours later with rays of sunlight stinging his eyes, a sheet still thrown haphazardly over his midsection. He looked blearily at the nightstand, feeling as though something significant had happened there. It was with a groggy jolt of memory that he reached out and grasped the small piece of paper in his fingers. Across it was a phone number, with a small, curly cursive written name beneath it. The name was Cyrus. It was with pain in his heart that Remus realized that even the man's name had closely resembled Sirius'.

It was just one more detail that was not quite the real thing.

There will be a second chapter! I intend it to be sometime during OotP where Remus admits to Sirius what he did during his troubled years after Sirius goes to Azkaban. I'll try to get it out soon! Please REVIEW!