Here is my next chapter, which by the by, damn near killed me - I blame writers block and miserable feelings of crippling inferiority when reading everyone else's fics. Anyway ... hope you enjoy this chapter and again my eternal gratitude to my beta AshleyTangerine.

I Didn't See That Coming.

TWO MONTHS LATER…

Sirius supposed that he really ought to have known better than to have offered to mind Harry whilst Remus reviled in the novelty of being twenty-one, without a little messy haired demon following in his shadow, by taking a trip to the library.

By himself.

Leaving Harry alone under the not quite watchful eye of Sirius.

It was never going to end well. Ever.

"Sir'us!" Harry cried as he smacked a toy truck into Sirius' shin, and at that moment Sirius wanted nothing more than to hex Remus' bollocks off.

The bloody turncoat left him alone in a fucking nut house!

"Mummy?" Harry asked. His green eyes hopeful that this nightmare would be over soon - that Remus was home already and all was right with the world again - because he didn't seem too impressed by Sirius' parental skills.

Sighing, he picked up his godson, and, prying the truck from his little hands, replied. "Remus has gone to the library, Harry. Would you like a bikkie?"

Harry shook his head, 'No I don't want a biscuit, pillock.'

He reached out for the confiscated truck, which Sirius quickly stuffed it into his back pocket, as he wondered how on earth he had learned how to understand baby-speak. It was really quite messed up. Though he supposed communication through a vocabulary of a whopping seven words was going to have to get a bit creative occasionally.

"Right, well … as you were." Sirius told Harry, who was studying him with far too alert eyes for a child of one and a half, as he set him back down on the floor, ignoring the crunch of spilled cereal under little hands and knees as Harry crawled off, intent on terrorising something or another.

Probably their Kneazle, a ball of black and grey mottled fur, called Bathsheba.

And if Sirius didn't hate the devil-incarnate as much as he did - and he wanted nothing more than to make nice fur earmuffs out of her - he would have felt bad for her. Almost.

Harry had taken a particular liking to pulling on her ears. And her tail. And yanking out fistfuls of soft fur. And attempting to drink from her milk dish in the kitchen. Which he may or may not have picked up from Padfoot...

What idiot gives a Kneazle (without a proper license, mind) as a Christmas present, anyway? Oh, right.

Cheers, Hagrid.

How did you know that the werewolf and the animagus who turns into a fucking Grim were really cat people?

Well, Sirius thought, it could have been worse, it could have been a Basilisk, or an Acromantula.

At least it wasn't a Crup, he decided. They were bloody awful and highly territorial. And the flat was his territory, thank you very much, though Remus had hexed him when he suggested he ought to mark it out properly.

That was probably fair.

Looking around the flat, Sirius remembered why he had lamented being left to care for Harry alone in the first place, aside from being on nappy duty.

There were blocks strewn from one end of the flat to the other, and Sirius had already stepped on several hundred of the bloody things, the corner of the coffee table was still smoking, though he still hadn't entirely figured out why it caught fire in the first place (he blamed Bathsheba), he couldn't find his wand, the mop had started washing the walls, the cutlery had entered into a medieval jousting tournament in the kitchen, he couldn't remember how Remus turned the telly off, so he'd watched several soaps that Mrs Lupin often chatted about, and was horrified to find himself muttering madly, "What's she looking at him for? That other bloke was a much better choice," as he tip toed through the minefield that was the living room in search of his ruddy wand, and to top it off … Remus had only been gone nineteen minutes.

Why did Remus had to leave him?

What was so good about being in a library anyway? Aside from the fact that they were quiet and peaceful and organised and basically everything the flat wasn't. Well, except for the fact that their flat contained enough books to be mistaken for a library, he thought wryly.

Remus had moved in just after Christmas, and along with the man himself, came more books than any self-respecting wizard had any right to own. It was utterly ridiculous. They literally did not have the space for one extra book - and this was after cramming dusty copies of books which Remus hadn't even read since he was in school but couldn't bring himself to part with, under the sink, and after Sirius discovered a neat little bundle of books piled neatly in what used to be his sock draw.

His sock draw!

After that particular incident, Sirius decided enough was enough, he may now have a wayward charge and a book-loving Mistress, but he was the Master of the Flat, and since he was paying the rent, he got to be the one calling the shots around here.

Theoretically, at least.

So, he had drawn up a list, titled it, 'Very BAD thing's that one Remus John Lupin absolutely cannot do, under any circumstance (except maybe under the threat a nuclear explosion - in which case it is safe to say this list will be rendered obsolete), whilst he shares a bed with Master Black.'

And hastily scribbled, "No. 1 - Buy any more books," underneath the heading in bright pink ink (it had been on sale, and they were dirt-poor, he hadn't turned into a total fairy, yet) and stuck it proudly on the fridge with a blue 'Z'.

Sirius was very glad Remus had finally relented - after a solid two month's worth of consistent pestering on trips to the grocery store - and let him buy the alphabet magnets, under the pretence that they were educational for Harry, of course.

They were brilliant, Sirius thought, though Harry really couldn't have cared less even if he tried. The little blighter was much more comfortable wreaking havoc on his toy broomstick, hiding all the spoons, tipping his bottle down the back of the lounge, terrorising Bathsheba, and waging war on Remus' books.

So far there had been several notable skirmishes; The Battle of the Bikkie, Oscar Wilde never stood a chance; The Tale of Two Books, who got flushed alongside yet another dummy and blocked all the pipes and Remus had to telephone a 'pumbler', or something like that to come and unblock it; Harry James Potter and the 'Not the Library Book!', in which Remus was too ashamed to return the pumpkin smeared book and forced Sirius do it instead; and a whole stack of smaller dogfights in which Padfoot was also involved, that he was still figuring out names for. He would get there. Eventually. Maybe.

Whatever.

There was a clang followed by a giggle from somewhere in the nursery, and with the knowledge that the appropriate response would be to go and check on what Harry was in the process of discovering, and whether or not he had killed Bathsheba, yet, Sirius flung himself on the lounge instead.

What was life without a little recklessness?

Peaceful, most likely. His mother's voice echoed in his mind. Not that you would know anything about that, would you?

Probably not. Sirius conceded, before chasing his weird extra voice away from the forefront of his mind.

It got a bit creepy sometimes, he often found himself arguing with his conscience who he liked to pretend was his mother, when all he was really doing was talking to himself, and then sometimes it got really crazy up there and Padfoot would join in, usually with some naff and totally unrelated comment like, Look. Shoes! Get the shoe. That shoe.

Get!

Which was never reassuring.

The telly warbled on, the mop set its sights on the ceiling, and Sirius took to wondering whether or not Remus would be upset with him if he and Harry just so happened to run into him at the library.

He probably would be.

And Sirius didn't particularly enjoy getting kicked out of the bedroom like a 'bad dog' when he did something blatantly ignorant or stupid, so it was probably best to leave him be. Maybe they could go to the park then, or visit Mrs Lupin; she had called yesterday, on the telephone. She'd been very impressed with his telephone answering skills, after he'd stopped shouting into the receiver, of course, though she still seemed a little reserved. That was nothing new.

BANG!

There was a burst of flame from the fireplace, and startled, Sirius toppled off the lounge, landing elbow first onto a green block with very pointy corners. Ouch.

"I'm not armed!" he cried as he flailed on the floor. "It'd be piss-poor sportsmanship to do me in while I'm wandless!"

But there were no flashes of green light before his eyes, nor were there any masks or black robes billowing above him. Instead of the fiery death he had anticipated, the fireplace started talking, which was always fun.

"Black? Black ... Sirius, where are you, you idiot?"

He knew that voice. Thank you Merlin! I owe you one. Sirius sat up and scrambled to kneel in front of the fireplace, with a relieved grin on his face, to find a head poking through the flames.

"Cor Alice! Fancy meeting you here, would you like a cup of tea?"

"Shut up and listen, Black." Alice said, briskly. "Where's Harry? Is Remus home? Is that a broomstick-"

"Alice!" Sirius interrupted. "Don't be daft. It's a mop. Why'd I want a broomstick sweeping my walls? It'd ruin the aerodynamicdesign in the woodwork." He added, scandalised. Women, he found, had no appreciation for the excellence and precision that was involved in making thing fly. It was a crying shame. Honestly.

"Sorry." She said sweetly, though she didn't sound sorry in the slightest, "I don't spend much time mopping my walls. I take it Remus isn't in, then? Don't even lie, if he was home there would be no wall washing - one second," she said, her head momentarily disappearing out of the fire, "Shove off, Dawlish! Can't you see I'm using the Floo?"

Her head popped back into sight and followed - Sirius noted with mild surprise - by the rest of her. He had to scramble backward's to avoid being stepped on as Alice - all sleek navy robes and muddy boots and cheerful face - landed on his hearth.

Well, do come in, why don't you? Sirius almost said, but he figured it'd only get him into trouble, so he held his tongue. His mind, however, was another matter entirely. I've got a lovely carpet you can traipse you dirty feet across, too. Why don't you go break all the tea cups, too? Moony'd just love that.

Oh, shut up, His mother's voice cautioned. You sound like a rickety old hag.

Sirius cringed when he realised she was right.

Merlin.

Shut. Up. Sirius.

This was what happened when he tried to be responsible - he turned into a bloody miserable old woman. Brilliant.

Just fucking great. He should just whip out his knitting needles while he was at it, and start telling Alice stories about when he was a young and beautiful maid, and Muggles still believed in dragons and thought burning magical folk was a good idea.

Alice seemed unaware of his mental anguish, or cared very little for it, which was probably more likely, so instead she busied herself by fishing something out of her robes. Then with a cry of, "Ah ha!" she produced a piece of old parchment from a pocket inside her sleeve.

It was worn and yellowed around the edges, with a decidedly folded-one-too-many-times look about it.

"This is for you, from Mad-Eye," Alice said passing him the letter. "He said you'd know need to let him know by this afternoon if you're willing to take the case."

She handed the letter to Sirius, and he opened it with curious fingers.

Black, it began in Mad-Eyes sharp and jagged slant which Sirius could only properly read sideways.

We've gotten a tip-off about the whereabouts of the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, he's on the prowl, so remember, constant vigilance it necessary at all times. I want you and Longbottom on the case, I have my reservations, but you know how to deal with werewolves better than the rest of if there is ANY trouble (and I don't mean you just being a general nuisance - though it'd be nice to not have to worry about Alice running out of the office because you left toads in her draws - again - I mean you getting too involved, if you're not already), I will take you off the case quicker than you can say, 'Crucio' and you will be escorting the Minister to and from appointments and tea parties for the rest of your miserable word back with Longbottom on your Vigilance!The files on Greyback will be on your desk by morning, if you decide to take it.

Sirius read the letter several times over before he really understood it. Mad-Eye was putting him and Alice on the hunt for Fenrir Greyback? The monster who turned Remus, who condemned him to a life of suffering and prejudice? Merlin.

He didn't know how to respond to that.

Sirius became an Auror so that he could hunt down bastard's like Greyback, to serve justice to people like Remus who had gone without it for so long, but he'd never even dreamed of being allowed to take on this case. For a start he had only qualified a year ago and compared to the other's he was pitifully inexperienced, and even Moody hadn't been able to catch the bastard, but also because, well, he had make it quite clear on several occasions that wanted the bastard dead. He didn't care whether or not he got a trial and thrown into Azkaban. He wanted him to suffer. To die.

Sirius could feel Alice's eyes on him. She must have known about Remus. Mad-Eye must have told her.

Bugger.

She wasn't going to leave him alone, now.

He folded the letter up and put it in his pocket, and Alice asked, "Well? Are you going to do it or not?" Can you handle this?

"Are you really asking me that?" He said, forcing a smile, though he felt that it had morphed into a grimace at 'you.' Because as soon as he realised there was no way he could not work the case, he also realised that there was no way that Remus would let him work the case.

He just couldn't catch a break today. Wonderful.

Absolutely smashing.

"I know you want him caught," Alice said, "But … I just … aren't you a little bit too close to this one? I don't think I would have been able too keep a clear head on me if I had been the one to bring in Bellatrix after what she did to my husband, and I'm not sure you ought to do this either. I know what Remus means to you." If you mess up, you'll hurt more than just yourself. Think of your family, you idiot.

He knew she was right.

If he agreed to hunt down Greyback, anything could happen.

Greyback was a vicious monster, and several Auror's who had been charged with his capture had lost children to him, either through death or lycanthropy. He would never say it out loud, but he knew that the little boy Remus had beenbefore the attack had died the night he received the bite. Sirius realised sadly that Mrs Lupin had lost two children, her daughter and a four year old boy who loved adventures and the forest backing onto their backyard and the starry sky, but had gained a little werewolf and a life of suffering and guilt.

Sirius could hear Harry playing in the nursery, incoherent babble wafting through the flat accompanied by the thump thump of something (hopefully Bathsheba) getting whacked with something hard, and it very nearly killed him to think that Harry could suffer the same fate as Remus. Forced to suffer because of the sins of his (god)father. But then ... if it wasn't Harry, it would be someone else's child. And he couldn't let that happen.

He saw the haunted look in Mrs Lupin's eyes when she watched her son after each transformation, and he didn't think anyone deserved that much pain in their life.

And then there was Remus. He had to do this for Remus, it didn't matter whether or not he approved, whether he hated Sirius for it - he needed to do it. Because he would never be able to forgive himself for not even trying.

"Alice, I can't not do this." He said with conviction, though each word weighed heavily on his chest. Each a nail in his own coffin. "It's Remus. I have to." I love him. I don't have a choice.

Alice gave him a long, hard look, but said nothing.

Sirius knew she had hoped that he would relent. Something which was never going to happen. He knew it.

Part of Alice had known it, too.

She had just hoped that she had been wrong. He could also tell that she thought he was going to do something stupid, which in all likelihood, he was, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and catch the bastard first.

He was nothing if not stubborn, and he figured that if he was going to go down, then Greyback was going down with him.

They were silent for a long while, until finally, Alice's resolve broke and she pulled him into a tight embrace, her arms wound so tightly around his neck that it was quiet difficult to breathe, and Sirius supposed she was thinking about Frank, and about what she would have done to his dearly beloved cousin had she the chance.

"We're going to get him, Sirius." She said with a steely tone that Sirius had thought she had reserved solely for Dawlish, though apparently it was for Greyback, too. Dawlish would be so pleased to hear that. Not.

Sirius didn't exactly trust himself to say anything rational at that moment, so he stayed silent. Alice let go of him and said sternly, "I've only got one condition … you have to tell Remus. If you don't, I will."

He promised her that he would.

It was a lie.

He watched as she Flooed back to work, guilt gnawing in his chest. Betrayal was something that came all too easily for him, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to even try being better than his family.

It was easier - more natural, even - to be horrid and cruel and Black.

But then he noticed the mop had started to wash the picture frames hung on the wall - and his real family looked back at him from the black and white photographs that were barely visible behind soapy glass.

They were all there.

His family.

Prongs. Mr and Mrs Potter. Lily. Regulus (though he only featured in one blurred photograph that Sirius had found at the bottom of his school trunk). Mr and Mrs Lupin. Harry. Remus.

And he remembered why he had fought so hard against what he had been raised to be. They thought he was better than that, better than one of those Blacks, and Sirius was determined to prove them right.

They deserved that much for dealing with all the shit that was involved in loving him. It was the most ridiculous thing, he decided - Love.

It was the ultimate wanker of emotions.

It was inconvenient and irrational and it hurt a whole fucking lot the majority of the time.

But it was brilliant. Totally bonkers. It was insane and scary and safe.

And it made him better. Good.

It made him fight harder.

He watched as James and Lily lived their first tender moments as a newly wedded couple, hand in hand, identically blissful smiles smacked on their faces. James' hair stuck up at odd ends, and his glasses were falling off the end of his nose, and Lily's veil had caught in the wind and was half-off her head - but they looked so happy and so in love it didn't matter.

And he watched as Mrs Potter hugged his seventeen year old self, a doting smile on her face as he made some ridiculous joke which made Mr Potter whack him on the shoulder. They were the most real parent's he had ever had. He missed them, too.

Would they have accepted my … preferences? He wondered.

As Mr Potter placed a comforting hand on his shoulder in the picture, with a caring smile identical to his wife's, Sirius hoped that they would have.

His eyes wandered to the picture of him and Prongs mucking about in the Great Lake; James with seaweed wrapped around his head looking certifiably insane, attempting to drown Sirius buy trying to climb on top of his head. He laughed at the memory.

That had been an expedition that they both received detention for, along with a stern warning by their Head of House.

"I would have thought that at almost sixteen the lot of you would have managed to wrangle up some form of self control, Merlin knows the world would be a better place for it." McGonagall had said in a tight voice. "Clearly I was wrong - Potter, you are dripping all over my rug, are you incapable of performing a simple drying charm? - Why are you in my office, Pettigrew? You weren't even at the lake - Lupin, stop trying to choke yourself with that camera strap, I will not accept death as a sufficient excuse for failing to complete my essay … No. Really now, stop. Stop. Lupin! Has Black jinxed you again? - Black! Stop laughing this instant, this is serious!"

To which Sirius had replied, "Professor, you wound me. I am always serious, how could you suggest otherwise?"

McGonagall had cried that day.

Good times.

Then there was the picture of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius, with one torn edge where Wormtail had been. It had been taken the day they left school.

He smiled as James winked and chucked a rude gesture his way, and Lily punched the twat in the gut for it. Remus had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at the black faired figure beside him - with good reason, Sirius conceded - as the Sirius in the picture stuck sticks in his hair and then proceeded to lick the side of his face.

They all look so young and happy and innocent, and in Moony's case, ridiculous.

Sirius just wished that they were still here. With him. Because he missed them so much. Sometimes he feared that with out them, all that was left of him was the grief and the self pity and the hate.

No, he told himself. He was more than that. He hadn't lost everyone.

Harry and Remus, were with him still. After everything. They were why he was still fighting.

And he found that was reason enough.

After that small epiphany, Sirius had gone and made sandwiches for him and Harry (which Harry took great delight in throwing at Sirius' head), found his wand hidden underneath Harry's cot, rescued Bathsheba from the dastardly clutches of the toy box, finally figured out how to turn the ruddy television off, though he suspected that using a severing charm on the cords that connected it into the wall probably wasn't a good idea, and that Remus would likely hex him when he found out, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Might as well he hanged for a dragon as for and egg, and all that rot.

He also learned that leaving ink bottles within reaching distance of curious little somebodies was a truly terrible idea, and he paid for it dearly when he realised, a moment too late, that Harry had thrown the bottle at the wall, shattering the glass across the kitchen floor and Sirius could only watch on in dismay as red ink poured down the wall like blood.

Wonderful, that was.

"Fuck!" He wailed, sinking to the floor, his head cradled in his hands, Harry clapping excitedly at the chaos he had created from his highchair. "Remus'll be chuffed to buggery when he get home and finds out we've redecorated the whole place." Sirius muttered, taking a moment to admire the redness of the ink as it pooled onto the floorboards. Lovely.

"Actually, Padfoot," a voice called from the door, "I'd have been much happier if I'd found you wearing an apron. It would be terribly domestic, and I could do for a laugh."

Sirius looked up sharply - ("Mummy!" Harry cried excitedly) - to find Remus leaning against the doorway leading into the kitchen; all sharp angles poking through worn clothes, rain smattered fingers rapping across the chipped paint on the wood of the door jam, with wind tussled hair that wouldn't go amiss in a Potter family picture, and a cheeky grin itching at the corners of his mouth.

Fuck.

Just … Justfuck.

As Sirius' breath actually hitched as he looked at Remus, he wondered who the fuck hated him so much in the afterlife to torture him so. At that moment Sirius would have given anything to have been able to pull Remus down onto the floor and shag him senseless. Right there.

In the kitchen.

Never mind that Harry was still in the room. He was only a baby, he wouldn't know what he was witnessing - No. Stop.

That was wrong on so many levels that he couldn't even … no. Merlin.

He was so screwed. But hell would sooner freeze over than Sirius let anyone else know he was screwed, so with a leer, he quipped back a retort at Remus.

"Please. If anyone is going to be wearing an apron around here, it'd be you." Remus huffed in indignation and Sirius grinned wickedly at him, Greyback and his betrayals already forgotten. Harry giggled and threw another piece of bread at Sirius.

It missed.

"I can see it now," he elaborated, arms gesticulating wildly. "All pink and ruffly, and it'd get caught underneath you as you scrubbed the floor like a good little house-wolf, down on your hands and knees -" (which Sirius realised was exactly how he wanted Remus at that moment, on his hands and knees, which was definitely. Not. On.) "- Or - or standing. I don't mind. However you want to do it - Er - want to clean, that is. However you want to clean. How was the library?"

Remus looked at Sirius as though he did not know what to make of that comment, and quite frankly, neither did Sirius, but recovered quickly as he sat down beside Harry, whose eyelids seemed to be growing heavier by the second. Thank Merlin.

Nap time.

"I'll have you know I had an eventful trip," Remus began in a calm and rational tone. Which meant his experience really had been anything but calm and rational. "There I was, minding my own business, when this oldcrone with about three teeth to her name came up to me and tried to cop a feel, which … personally I found quite flattering, though she smelled a bit like rotting garlic and tar."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter at the thought of Remus getting hit on by an old bint, though Remus seemed unphased by his interruption, and continued on with his tale.

"Then when I declined her offer of tea and sweets - which I am fairly certain was a euphemism of some description - she started shouting about a star and seven souls divided and something about a diary and a ring and a bunch of other stuff, but I couldn't understand any of it, and in the end the librarian stunned her to shut her up. Apparently she was a regular. Needless to say I shall be sticking to the Muggle library from now on."

"Fuck, Remus." Sirius snorted loudly. "Only that could happen to you."

It was true enough.

Sirius had had his fair share of admirers in the past, but they were never downright creepy like the things that Remus had a knack for picking up, though maybe that was because he didn't have a fondness for shoddy libraries which bordered onto Knockturn Alley.

Wait … what did that say about him?

Considering he was after his male best friend's arse, he probably fit rather snuggly into that, 'creepy' profile. Bugger. Oh … really, really bad word choice.

Alice was going to wet herself when she heard about this.

"Yeah, well … we always knew I was special," Remus muttered as he cast a cleaning charm on the ink on the wall, and it left Sirius with the distinct impression that there was some deeper mean to his words, but before he could ask, Remus said, in an obvious attempt to move the conversation along, "I ran into Andromeda in Diagon Alley, Padfoot."

"Andromeda? My cousin?" That was unexpected.

Remus gave him a long-suffering look, "No one of the other Andromeda's." He said rolling his eyes. "Honestly, how many Andromeda's do you think I know? Don't answer that - I couldn't bear one of you're explanations about how I really know eleven Andromeda's, though really one was a Murtlap we studied in Care of Magical Creatures, or whatever else springs to your mind when faced with questions you aren't supposed to answer - I meant it. Close your mouth. All the way. Good boy."

I need to get Remus out more, he's spent way too much time conversing with Harry, Sirius decided. Good boy, my arse.

"Anyway, I didn't even realise it was her at first. I ran into her outside that Twilfitt and Tatting's, quite literally. She had a good laugh, I was quite startled before she introduced herself. I - I thought …" Bellatrix. She looked just like Bellatrix.

"Yeah, I know." Sirius said, understanding. The family resemblance was quite striking. "How was she?"

"Upset with you." Remus told him, grinning, as he took Harry out of his highchair and held his sleeping form in his arms. "She told me to tell you that if you ignored another one of her letters, she was sending you to the top of her 'Woeful Relations List -"

Which really was a truly awful punishment, considering they had a cousin who once tried to pass a bill through the Ministry to make Muggle-hunting legal.

"- and that she would like to see more of Harry than a tuft of hair in a blurry picture in the Daily Prophet on slow news days. So … fess up. Why are you avoiding her?"

Sirius fidgeted in his spot on the floor. Scratched his nose.

Tapped his foot.

"She's been trying to set me up with some bird," he admitted finally, not looking at Remus.

He heard Remus snort. "And that's a problem, is it?" He asked, clearly amused. "I would have thought she was doing you a favour, Padfoot."

"You'd think," Sirius muttered under his breath, though from the funny noise that Remus made that wasn't quite a squeak, he must have heard.

Shit. Well done, Black.

"What I mean is … I'm not looking for anyone at the moment." Or ever, actually. My right hand and I are getting along really well at the moment. "But Andy's as stubborn as an old dragon, she won't take no for an answer. And I'm not changing my mind about it, either." He said firmly.

Remus looked at him with furrowed brows, and shook his head. I don't understand you. I really … don't.

Sirius shrugged. What was there to say?

They sat there, Remus with Harry snoring in his arms and Sirius on the floor by the sink, for a long while. Sirius felt weird. He could feel Remus' eyes on him, and it made his skin tingle as he glared at the list of, 'Very BAD Things' that Remus wasn't allowed to do on the fridge.

He ought to add "No. 6 - Make Sirius feel all fluttery and see through."

The silence continued. Sirius listened to Harry's heavy breathing. It was kind of cute.

In.

Out.

In - In. Out.

In. Out. Snuffle. In.

Then finally, the silence broke …

"Maybe you should, Sirius." Remus said quietly, "Say yes to Andromeda, I mean. You never know, you could meet someone you really like."

Yeah. Not bloody likely.

Sirius laughed, because it was all he could do. Why was everything so messed up?

"I highly doubt it, Remus." He said. For one, I like cock. Also, I'm arse over tit in love with you. "But I'll owl Andy. Promise."

Remus stood up and smiling, sadly, told him, "Padfoot, just do what makes you happiest. It's the least you deserve." I want you to be happy. You seem so lost sometimes.

Sirius gave a noncommittal shrug as Remus stood and left the room to put Harry down for his nap.

He seriously doubted he deserved anything close to happiness after everything he had done in his life, but Remus' words made him feel all love-struck and silly.

He had Moony on the brain.

Sirius got up from the floor and loped through the flat and up to the door of the nursery, lingering in the hallway, where he watched Remus coax Bathsheba out from under the cot. He glared at the Kneazle as Remus picked her up, and scratched behind her ears. She purred contentedly, one of her striking green eyes opened, her gaze fixed on Sirius.

That horrible feline wench!

She was taunting him, because she was the one getting petted by Remus, when Padfoot hadn't gotten a decent tummy rub in weeks.

That wasn't on. Not at all.

Sirius crept into the room, a half-mad scheme swiftly materialising in his mind's eye, unnoticed by the rooms human occupants, until he was pressed flush against Remus' back.

"Moony, I was wondering ..." he whispered in Remus' ear, a hand brazenly trailing down Remus' side. He could feel a slight tremble under his touch, though not entirely sure what to make of it. "Where did that awful woman touch you, exactly? Maybe I could make it better for you?"

Remus laughed quietly, so as not to disturb Harry, though it sounded ever so slightly panicked to Sirius, as he set Bathsheba on the rocking chair and turned to face Sirius - who could barely contain the satisfaction of winning over Remus' attention as she scowled at him - and with a quirk of one brow, murmured, "Wouldn't you like to know, Mister Black." What the are you playing at, Sirius?

Sirius couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed as Remus flicked his wandering hand away, though he couldn't exactly complain. He'd take whatever he could get. "I can assure you it is purely for investigative purposes, Moony. I need to know how to ask these sensitive ... questions."

Brilliant Remus, now you've got me speaking in euphemisms! Bloody hell.

Remus snorted, "I don't think coming onto Dark Wizards is going to help you any, Padfoot." He cautioned, poking Sirius in the chest. "But now that you mention it," Remus whispered slowly, as he leant in closer to Sirius, who was struggling to keep his arousal at bay, "I felt terribly violated when she stroked my -" but Remus stopped abruptly as he spied something over Sirius' shoulder, "- Merlin! Is that a mop?"

Really? Now?

Sirius did his best to ignore the smug look on Bathsheba's face as Remus brushed past him to inspect the bloody mop that had begun to tango just outside the nursery door.

He failed miserably.

"You just wait," Sirius warned, once Remus was out of earshot, as she looked at him with maddening superiority gleaming in her eyes, "One day, you're going to make a lovely muffler for Mrs Longbottom - she has a soft spot for hideous critters."

Bathsheba hissed at him. And you just got cock blocked by a mop! Give up, Black.

He's not interested.

Unfortunately, Sirius had to agree with the muffler.

Remus wasn't interested. Bugger.

Hope you enjoyed! BlackReaver (does anyone else feel the irrational need to type their name at the end of chapters, or is that just me?) xox