Coming Back to Life

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June 1994

Sirius sat waiting at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place, bouncing his knee up and down nervously. It had been almost a year to the day since he had been reunited with Remus, only to be forced to abscond the very same night. He'd written to him of course, but he had his reasons for not wanting to meet in person since his return to Britain a few months earlier. Partly for Remus' own safety, of course - anyone caught in the company of an escaped convict would be guaranteed a one-way trip to Azkaban. Werewolves, however, were promised something far worse...

Sirius shivered involuntarily at the memory of the Dementors. During his time in Azkaban they had always been unpleasant but manageable given his animagus abilities. But his last run-in with them, that night with Harry by the Black Lake - coming so close to a fate worse than death - had instilled in him a deeper fear than ever before. Still, he'd rather face off against a hundred Dementors than deal with the inevitable confrontation to come.

He glanced at the old grandfather clock on the other side of the room and sighed. Remus was late. This only served to increase his anxiety - Remus was always punctual - was he hurt or in danger? Even if he was, what the hell could he do about it? He didn't even have a wand. Maybe Remus just wasn't going to show because he didn't want to talk to Sirius. Their reunion at the Shrieking Shack had been amicable but brief - too brief to really address what needed to be said. Even in their letters to one another they had avoided touching on certain subjects. But now that the Order of the Phoenix was reformed, they would need to be in each other's company a lot more often. They had both agreed that the air needed to be cleared between them, but Sirius wasn't sure once he opened the floodgates that he'd be able to keep his thoughts and feelings in check. This was the real reason he had been so reluctant to meet Remus face to face.

The fireplace erupted in green flames and Sirius jumped to his feet, his heart hammering like a drum in his chest. A moment later Remus stepped through the fire into the gloomy kitchen, looking more disheveled than ever. He brushed soot off of his worn cloak, but it did little to improve its shabby appearance. Carelessly running his hand through his shaggy brown hair, now streaked grey at the temples, he gave Sirius a small but warm smile.

"Padfoot," he greeted him quietly with a slight nod. Sirius couldn't answer. Even if he didn't have the large lump in his throat, he seemed temporarily lost for words - that had to be a first. Instead he stepped forward and pulled Remus into a tight hug, sighing contentedly as Remus rested his head on his shoulder and squeezed him back.

He still looks wonderful, he thought fondly. It was always this way with Remus - all of life's worries and troubles melted away at his touch. It was a kind of magic that Sirius didn't really understand. He'd never told Remus that's how it felt - always too afraid to analyse the depth of own feelings - but he'd had a long time to think on it, and after seeing him again at the Shrieking Shack, he knew even after all this time his feelings for the man hadn't changed. The question was whether Remus still felt the same way. At least in this briefest of moments, standing in the kitchen together again, Sirius didn't feel like his whole world was going to shit.

And all too soon Remus broke away, looking sheepish and avoiding Sirius' eyes. The surety he'd felt only moments before was already slipping away and he desperately wanted it back.

"Moony--"

"I've brought something for you," Remus cut in, pulling a wand out of his pocket and handing it to him. Sirius' eyes widened when he saw it and took it from Remus' outstretched hand. He inspected it closely; by the looks of it, it was brand new - ten inches, cypress wood, phoenix feather core.

"Thank you," he breathed, feeling the magic course through his arm and into the wand. He smiled at Remus, "This feels quite compatible. Where'd you get it?"

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