Title: Grey Room
Author: wook77
Characters: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: Wonky timeline (starts during the Trio's time at Grimmauld Place in DH), Kindof-sortof canon compliant. Implied het.
Prompt: Sirius comes back for the final battle
Word Count: ~5400
Summary: Sirius is tired of the grey. Harry is tired of missing Sirius. Remus is just tired.
Author's notes: Though the prompt is AU, I've attempted to make this story as canon compliant as possible. This story takes place during Harry's 7th Year. So many thanks to yodels for the huge assistance on the beta and more. Finally, I apologise for the late posting, I was travelling and unable to post yesterday.



He's been staring at this damnable mirror for eternity. It's grey here, varying shades of grey everywhere. The ground is a dark grey and the sky is a lighter grey and his hands are grey and the nothingness is grey. Grey. Everywhere.

Out of everything that he misses, he misses colour the most. Considering how long he's been stuck in this grey world, he's had plenty of time to pick his favourite colour but he's been completely unable to do it. For awhile, it's the dark green of the leaves in the Forbidden Forest. Much as he'd disliked his time there while watching out for Harry, the dark green entranced him with the way that it would catch the light and glow. There's the bright red of Gryffindor, a cheerful reminder of friends long past and happier times.

The colour he comes back to the most, though, is the dark dark brown of Moony's eyes. It's not a constant shade, not with the mercurial moods of the man. Most people would think of Moony as placid, laid-back and easy but he's not, not to those that know him best. When he's angry, it's a deep colour, rich like the mud at the bottom of a river. When he's happy, it's a glowing brown that reminds Sirius of Moony's ever-present chocolate bars. When he's passionate, though, God above but when he's passionate it's a storm of colour, switching from light brown to dark and back again.

Yes, Sirius decides as he stares at the mirror in his hands, the dark brown of Remus's eyes is his favourite colour. He'd slipped this mirror into his pocket on accident, just a random thing that he'd picked up off his bureau and now it's his lifeline, his one way of communicating with others that don't seem to remember that they have the other mirror. He understands. After all, he'd forgotten he had the mirror for the first eon of grey so why should they remember that they have the other when their lives are filled with much much more than endless expanses of grey?

Along with this understanding is the complete refusal to even contemplate that there isn't anyone there on the other side of the mirror to communicate with him. Of course, Harry and Remus are well, so are Harry's friends and the rest. They're well, Voldemort and Bellatrix are either dead or will be soon depending on how much time has passed back in the world and Buckbeak's fat, happy and making a mess of his mother's room. Everything there is fine.

And that's another thing he likes to ignore. If everything's fine, then no one is worrying about him and no one will ever try to reach him through the mirror. No, instead, everything's fine but they still need him, want him. He's important to them and they won't just let him rot like he'd rotted in Azkaban for all those years. Remus wouldn't do that to him again. There's no way that the Remus he knows would be so cruel.

He's glad that he can't feel thirst or hunger because otherwise he'd be fucked. As it is, he can stay here and stare at the mirror or the grey horizon or at the pallor of his grey flesh. They'll somehow get him out of here soon.

~~**~~

"D'you think it'll work?" Harry asks and Hermione nods back at him. "You're sure?"

"From everything I could find, it should."

"Sides, Harry, if it doesn't work, Kreacher'll be out of our hair. No more worrying about him telling Volde-," Hermione interrupts with a loud clearing of her throat. Ron startles and then continues, "You-Know-Who's people about our plans."

"Ronald Weasley, I cannot believe that you think it would be acceptable to kill Kreacher," she stops abruptly. "I mean, send him into the Veil just because he annoys you."

"I thought you said this would work! I thought you said no chance of death!" Harry rubs his hand through his hair.

"It will," she reiterates with a glare towards Ron.

"Alright then." Harry takes a deep breath and then calls out, "Kreacher?"

~~**~~

Sirius has taken to walking with the mirror always within view. Counting his steps, he's gone seven thousand, four hundred and fifty seven, no wait, fifty eight steps in a left-ish sort of direction. The expanse remains the same.

Now that he's settled on his favourite colour, it's time to decide what his favourite food is so that he knows exactly what he misses most. When Moony finally figures out a way to rescue him, he'll be able to have a proper meal and stare at his favourite colour. Two birds, one stone. Efficiency is Sirius Black's middle name.

He laughs out loud at the thought and then starts listing food. There's kippers, he was always fond of kippers. Then again, he was always quite fond of a well done roast, nice and juicy, with a spot of sauce. Or how about… his brain churns with the food while his stomach growls and he walks into the grey.

~~**~~

Even in the dark of the night, Remus can't pretend that the body next to him is the one he wants. In these quiet hours when Tonks is asleep, Remus's guilt swarms over him like bees over flowers. He's using her but he doesn't like to think about it. It's only in these dark lonesome hours that he can't pretend any longer. During the day, he can pretend that he cares about her as much as she cares about him.

It's when she curls on her side as they sleep that he has to stop lying to himself. He can't bring himself to curl around her like he had so many times before. With her cousin. Which is another thing he chastises himself over, as well. There in the middle of the night, he can be honest with himself about this. He leads her on because she bears a shallow resemblance to Sirius.

Baby or no, this isn't the right thing. This is neither healthy nor fair to either of them. He can't abandon them but he can't stay, either. Harry's right about that. He's damned.

He snarls, all his ire directed at himself, and stalks to the kitchen for a cup of tea, something other than Earl Grey. Anything but Sirius's favourite.

~~**~~

Sirius is tired of teasing himself with things he misses. He's never going to get out of here. No matter how much he despairs, he keeps the mirror though it's moved from his grip to his pocket. Perhaps he's meant to reflect on his sins or rethink his life but if God thinks he's going to regret his treatment of certain people – Snivellus, his parents and his cousin all come to mind – then God's going to be waiting one hell of a long time.

He's been here enough, though, to regret his treatment of his brother. If he'd known, if he'd had time, if he'd thought about it, if if if if. It's the 'if' that wrenches his gut with regret on so many things, but mainly Regulus. They'd been mates when they were children, best mates the way that only siblings could be. Damn adulthood and the politics that drove them apart. Damn their mother and her maneuvering and… and damn Sirius himself for being so intractable and unforgiving.

It's tempting to punish himself, kick himself or hit his head or iron his hands, something, anything but he doesn't get the chance because there's suddenly a bright yellow light coming from his pocket. Fumbling, Sirius pulls out the mirror and he's promptly blinded by the light. Moving to shield his eyes, he drops the mirror to the ground and cries out.

"Master Sirius is to come with Kreacher." Sirius can't see but he'd recognise that voice anywhere. His mother's damnable House-Elf has somehow found its way into this grey void. Of course it had, his mother could torment him from beyond the grave and here, he's finally been sent for. His mother is pulling him into hell but he's not going to go without a fight.

"Fuck off, Kreacher," he spits back before dropping to his knees to fumble for the mirror. He's praying that it isn't broken, that Harry or Remus will remember it and… and Kreacher had come through the mirror. He'd come through and so maybe, just maybe, but no. Kreacher is Sirius's darling mother's House-Elf, not his and not Harry's.

"Master Sirius is to come with Kreacher." The old House-Elf's leathery skin wraps around his wrist just as he finds the mirror and then there's the tug of Apparition.

~~**~~

Harry can't breathe as he stares at the pile of robes and House-Elf in front of him. That bedraggled emaciated pile can't possibly have Sirius within it. Sirius wouldn't have wasted away so much during his time, would he? He'd only been beyond the Veil for a little bit, not too long in the large scheme of things.

"Sirius?" He asks as the pile shifts, a skeletal hand reaching out for something on the carpet.

"Damnable elf, where's the mirror? Have to have the mirror." The voice is Sirius and Harry cries out in relief and then drops to the ground, grabbing on to Sirius's hand.

"Sirius! It worked, it worked!" Harry looks up to Hermione and Ron, grinning and tempted to cry.

"Harry?" They can finally see Sirius's head as he comes out of the pile and Harry's breathing seizes one more time. Sirius looks horrible, his skin is so shrunken and his hair is far worse than when he'd lived in that cave out in the Forbidden Forest. The hand that Harry's holding turns and grips his wrist with far more strength than Harry would've thought possible considering how horrible he looks. "Harry? Is that you?"

When Harry meets Sirius's gaze, Sirius starts crying as he scrambles forward and tugs and then they're entwined together, a fierce hug that Harry can't slip out of, not that he wants to anyway.

"Harry, we should get him into a bed," Hermione says from behind him. "Kreacher, will you bring him some of your soup?"

"Kreacher will listen to the – Kreacher will bring soup to Master Sirius's room." The House-Elf disappears with a crack.

"Ron, will you help?" Harry asks from within Sirius's embrace.

"Yeah, sure."

~~**~~

The owl message sits on the table. He's torn. Harry wants him to come back to Grimmauld Place after sending him away with such hurtful comments. That the comments were well-deserved only serve to twist him up further. He's messed up; he knows that but to go back there?

What could this possibly be about?

"Remus? Was that an owl?" Tonks asks from behind him.

"Yes, from Harry. He says it's important that I come right away." Her hand rests on his shoulder and he flinches at its weight. To try to cover the flinch, he hands her the note over his shoulder.

"You should go, then. He sounds frantic." Her voice is soft and he can hear the regret within it.

"He does, yes. I shouldn't leave you right now, though. You need –"

"My mother's here, Remus. It'll be fine." Her touch disappears and Remus stands, facing her. He hugs her, sniffing her hair.

"I'm sorry, Nymphadora."

"You're not, but that's alright. It's for the best." Tonks pulls back and looks at him, hand coming up to trace his jaw line. "Goodbye, Remus."

She turns and walks back out of the kitchen. Remus wonders if he imagined the sense of finality in her last address or if it's just a flight of fancy.

~~**~~

Sirius refuses to shut his eyes. He barely blinks and his eyes ache but there's colour here, so much fucking colour that he refuses to give up even a second of looking at it. His hands shake – it's like he has palsy – and he wonders if perhaps that's from his time on the other side of the Veil.

Harry and his friends come in and keep him company but it's hard to hear what they're saying. After all that time engulfed in silence, everything seems too loud, too vibrant, too much and it hurts his head. The only thing that helps him is narrowing his focus to the photograph attached to the wall. Even though the photograph's black and white, Sirius can see the moment in his head, the colours and the vibrancy of it.

"Remus, please, I just, you, ple – " Harry's voice in the hallway interrupts his contemplations. Then, Sirius actually hears the words. Remus, here. Remus.

Remus is in the doorway, staring with a hand braced on the doorframe. Sirius wants to get out of bed but he's so weak and, incongruously, he wishes he'd had a chance to brush his hair, clean up a bit so he didn't look nearly as awful as he knows he does.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Moony," he tries for a lighthearted quip but it comes out far more somber than he'd wanted.

"Sirius?" Remus starts to leave the doorframe and almost collapses as his knees buckle under him. He catches himself and then walks across until he can sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'll leave you two alone," Harry says and then closes the door. The soft click comes and Sirius's hands shake more than ever as he slides one across the coverlet until he can rest it over Remus's.

"How?" Remus asks as he stares.

"Don't know. One minute I'm on the other side and the next, I'm on the carpet in the sitting room with Kreacher gripping my arm and Harry and his friends standing around me." Sirius feels distinctly uncomfortable as the silence stretches once more and Remus doesn't move at all while Sirius clinging to Remus like he's the last tie to the world Sirius has. When he lets go, sliding his hand back along the coverlet, Remus's hand darts out and clings, fiercely and painfully.

"I'm married." Remus's grip tightens even further but that pain in his hand is nothing compared to the well of it coming out of his heart and mind. The silence stretches even further in the wake of the unexpected pronouncement. Remus is staring at him like he's expecting Sirius to say "that's alright, mate, been awhile since I died, hasn't it?" but he can't because that's not right, it's been only a bit, barely long enough to mourn and move on.

Remus had promised, he had fucking well promised, that he wouldn't move on if he were to lose Sirius again. He had fucking well promised, godammit and Sirius's heart twists and turns, trying to escape everything but Sirius refuses to look away from that brown that he'd fantasised about so much on the other side.

After what seems like years, Sirius finally responds, "Going to tell me who it is?"

"Nymphadora." Remus looks away and Sirius grabs on to his hand, grips it so tight his knuckles go white and then he lets go abruptly.

Sirius can't even say, 'get out' or anything. He can't react at all, there's too much going on in his head and so he just closes his eyes. The colours are far too vibrant.

"I'll just be downstairs," Remus says but Sirius concentrates on the black of his eyelids and ignores everything.

Maybe brown isn't all it's cracked up to be. Maybe grey's more tolerable.

~~**~~

Remus sits at the table and stares at his tea. It's warm in his grip, possibly too warm, but it's better than the coldness coming from Sirius. He hasn't left his bed except for necessities and even then, he refuses Remus's help. It's like the years of friendship never existed, as if they never meant anything to each other. Hell, Sirius was more polite to Snape and that chafes and burns at Remus's pride.

He has needs, after all, Sirius should be well aware of that. But that very basis of knowledge is why Sirius is so upset with him. For Sirius, it was a blink of an eye and for Remus, it was years, indomitable years of loneliness. If Remus knows anything, though, he knows that Sirius is most hurt by the fact that it was his cousin, not that it was a female or any of the rest, but that it was his cousin.

It's time to get Sirius out of bed, he decides. Harry, Ron and Hermione are all off doing God knows what for that mission of Dumbledore's. Sirius won't be able to use them as an excuse to stay in bed. If he wants to yell and throw things at Remus, well, that's an improvement over this coldness. Nodding to himself, he sets his tea down carefully and then makes his way up to Sirius's boyhood room.

"Time for you to be up and on your own, Padfoot," he uses the familiar nickname in hopes of reminding Sirius that they have so many connections.

"Not now," is the only response.

"Sirius, you've been in that bed for too long. It's time for you to get up and stop your infantile moping. You've died and come back, that's deserving of celebration." Remus crosses the room and flips the blankets off. "You're alive, don't you think that's a gift?"

"Not. Now." Sirius is a bit more emphatic and Remus grins to himself. He's getting a reaction.

"So you're just going to stay here like a coward?" With a roar, Sirius comes up and slams his fist into Remus's face. He's so weak, though, that it barely makes an impact and as he's falling, Remus grabs him about the waist and holds him. "That's more like it, Padfoot."

"Fuck off, Remus, fuck yourself right off the edge of the earth," Sirius curses while holding on to Remus's arm and panting.

"Then who would be here to catch you?" Remus lifts Sirius and they're face to face, so close with the way that his arm remains around Sirius's waist. If he leans forward just a bit, he could kiss Sirius, taste those lips that haunted his dreams for those long lonely years.

"I hate you." It's the broken way that it's said that makes it feel like a slap.

"So hate me for needing companionship and love but don't you dare give up on this second chance you have. Don't you dare."

"You don't understand," Sirius starts to say until Remus interrupts him.

"Don't understand? You were dead, I watched you die. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea how awful it was for me? At least when you were in Azkaban, I knew you were there. I watched you die and I wanted to die too, you ungrateful arse." Remus tightens his grip and pulls Sirius in until they're chest touching chest, thigh touching thigh.

"Your eyes," Sirius says and Remus feels his anger deflate a little bit. "Your eyes kept me going for awhile, remembering the way they'd shift colours depending on your mood. You know, your eyes are about the same colour when you're pissed off at me as when you're about to come?"

The sounds of Harry, Ron and Hermione returning filter up the stairs and they step apart. Sirius wobbles for a second and then steadies himself. Remus reaches out and squeezes Sirius's hand and then asks, "So you'll start living? Harry worries over you."

"You worry?" Sirius asks without looking up. Remus steps close and sniffs at Sirius's neck.

"You have to ask?" Remus licks at Sirius's neck.

"Guess not." As footsteps approach, they step apart once more.

~~**~~

Another week passes and they're at least talking. Harry, Ron and Hermione keep disappearing during the day and, so far, no one has followed them home. Sirius and Remus talk more about what the threesome are doing rather than about their own issues, but it's conversation.

Sirius feels awkward with the current state of affairs but he's still hurt by Remus getting married to Tonks. He likes the girl but Remus is his, not anyone else's. The urge to yell and rage at Remus fades, though, as he spends more time with him. They touch and it disappears a little bit more. Remus has basically moved in and Sirius has yet to see or hear about any owls coming from Tonks.

"How's Tonks and the rest doing? She safe?" Sirius's curiosity finally overwhelms him.

"Ted's fled from the Registry but Andromeda and Tonks are both safe enough." Remus's answer is far too even for Sirius not to pick up on.

"Let it out, Moony, before whatever it is eats you alive."

"It's not safe for her to be married to me. After the ba- that is, we've found that we aren't as compatible as we thought. Nymphadora has asked for her freedom and I've agreed that it's for the best. We should never have got married in the first place." Remus doesn't look at Sirius. Sirius walks over and holds on to his chin, forcing his face up.

"You aren't separating because of me, are you?" Remus won't make eye contact; his gaze strays over Sirius's shoulder.

"That is one of the reasons, yes. It is unsafe to associate with a werewolf, Sirius, you know this."

"Fuck safe and I'm sure Tonks'll say the same."

"I don't want her to say the same. This is my decision," Remus whispers and Sirius leans in until their lips are almost touching.

"Remus," he starts to say but then the front door opens. There's no voices following and Sirius and Remus exchange a look before Remus pulls his wand.

As Yaxley enters the room, Remus is quite prepared for him. Grimmauld Place's secret is safe.

~~**~~

Sirius refuses to leave Grimmauld Place and it worries Remus. If Yaxley can find them, regardless of what Harry, Ron and Hermione tell them via owl, then anyone can. What if Yaxley had called for reinforcements before entering the house? What if he had told anyone else?

Sirius says 'bring it on' whenever Remus voices his worries. He really wishes Sirius would stop tempting fate like that. It's not like Sirius has a wand to protect himself. Kreacher is barely tolerable to them and considering that they have to rely on the kindness of the House-Elf for food, it's an almost untenable position. They're talking a bit more but Remus wants to touch Sirius so much that he aches with it. He's back to not sleeping and, yet again, it's all Sirius's fault. Remus doesn't know how much longer he can live with the worry and the waiting.

He's reading in the library when Sirius comes in. He's not nearly as gaunt as he was; he's almost back to what he'd looked like when they'd first reunited after Azkaban. His hair is still long but he looks younger, less tired and trod upon. Sirius wanders over to the tapestry and traces the branch with his brother and him upon it.

"You think Regs knew?" Sirius asks after a long silence. There's so many things that he could be asking about but Remus knows it's about the fact that Sirius loved him even when he hated him.

"I do, yes. He was a smart lad, he knew that you cared." Sirius won't stop looking at the tree and Remus puts his book down and walks over. "What is truly worrying you?"

"I'm a cruel man, aren't I? I've always been cruel. Whatever did you see in me?" It comes from nowhere and shocks Remus.

"You were rash and unbending but I wouldn't say you were cruel."

"I had plenty of time beyond the Veil to know that I was cruel. I was cruel to Regulus, to you. Do you ever wonder if, perhaps, my casual cruelty is what led Peter into betraying us? Do you think that is what got James and Lily killed?" Sirius's finger traces his brother's name, looping along the letters. Remus rests his hand against Sirius's, pushing it flat against the tapestry and weaving their fingers together.

"Peter was dissatisfied with far more than us. You can't be held accountable for all the ills of the world. Peter made his choices." Remus is close to Sirius's back and he leans in just a bit further, lining them up and touching chest to back. They're so close that Remus can hear Sirius's heartbeat, feel it reverberate in his chest. He can smell Sirius's unique scent – like an Arabian souq filled with cardamom and cinnamon and cumin – and it fills him, reminds him of how that scent filled the air in the midst of passion, wet and redolent in the air. His nose presses into Sirius's neck, breathing deeply.

"This isn't at all like I imagined on the other side. Thought I'd just come back and everything would be normal. It felt like I was only there for a day or two. Came back and Harry's grown and off on something he won't share with us, you're married and I'm old and wasted." Sirius leans back into Remus, cocking his head to bare his neck. "When did we get old, Moony?"

Remus doesn't answer because he doesn't quite know how. They're not old, not yet, are they? To distract, he licks across Sirius's neck before nipping it. He shifts to the right, nipping further up Sirius's neck and then back to the left, nipping his shoulder. Sirius groans and Remus can feel it in his chest. Moving his free hand, he wraps it around Sirius, resting it on his stomach and playing with the waistband of his trousers.

"This your way of showing me that I'm not old?" Sirius asks as he presses back into Remus's steady weight.

"This is my way of showing you that at least one of your concerns isn't a concern any longer." Remus tugs at Sirius's shirt and then touches the skin there. It's warm and comfortably familiar. Sirius has always been lean but this is too much, he'll need to see about getting Sirius better meals. If only Sirius would treat Kreacher better, that job would be easier. His thoughts are interrupted by Sirius opening his trousers and exposing more skin.

"Which one would that be?" Sirius asks as he entwines their fingers on his bare stomach.

"You're not old and wasted, Harry's off on his mission, he'll ask for help when he needs it and I'm no longer married." Remus feels the way that Sirius freezes in place at the last. "Well, I won't be, shortly."

"Was it for me?" Sirius asks.

"Yes," Remus answers honestly and bluntly.

"Good." It's a self-centered answer but Remus knows Sirius and knows that it's not out of any sense of maliciousness but that's just the way he is. He's concerned with his own happiness and considering what they've been through; they deserve a bit of happiness, don't they?

Remus thrusts forward, pushing his hard cock into Sirius's arse. "It's been so long, too long."

"Too long," Sirius echoes as he tips his head back until it rests on Remus's shoulder. Cocking his head, Remus maneuvers around until he can press his lips to Sirius's. It's a slow languid kiss and if anyone had ever asked Remus what sort of kiss he would have upon being reunited with Sirius, he would've said fast, hard, and needy. Instead, this one makes his heart ache as the taste of Sirius covers his mouth. It reminds him of the time they've missed out on and the way that Sirius had fallen right in front of him. It's so tempting to turn Sirius around, slam him against the tapestry and fuck his mouth with his tongue, brutal, fast, hard and needy. Instead, he lets Sirius take what he needs.

He slowly loses himself in the kiss, forgetting about anything other than the way their tongues entwine and rub against each other. There's only the feel of flesh and fabric and that fabric is far too much so he lets go of Sirius's hands and unbuttons his shirt, pushing it back and off shoulders. Sirius arches his back and then the shirt is on the floor and Remus's hands roam over the thin flesh, feeling each jutting rib and the heartbeat underneath them.

"Moony," Sirius breathes out and then grabs Remus's hand and pushes at his trousers. They start to slipslide down his legs and their bodies separate as Sirius steps out of them and then turns. It's when they're bare chest to clothed one that the kiss starts to heat up to that needy and hard kiss Remus wanted earlier. This one's much more teeth and tongue as they press against each other, hands roaming with more intent than before. Remus is naked before he can think and he discovers this when Sirius rakes his blunt nails down that bare back.

"Been too long," Remus almost snarls and then pushes Sirius's head to the side, baring his neck once more, before biting down hard.

"Take me," Sirius answers the unspoken question and Remus growls when he hears it. As they kiss and touch, they walk over to the couch and, with a hand fisted in Sirius's hair, bends him over the arm. There's little gentleness in his gestures as he holds Sirius down against the pillow with his bare arse in the air. He fumbles one-handedly with his trousers and then casts the barely remembered spells before thrusting into Sirius's body. Pausing, Remus bends forward and touches chest to back once more and then starts to move. The angle and position is awkward but he doesn’t much care because he doesn't want to be separated, not ever. His nails dig in to Sirius's neck while his other hand pushes against the small of Sirius's back. Hips snapping with the force of his thrusts, he's completely engulfed in the feel and sensation of Sirius's body.

With one particularly vicious thrust, Sirius arches up and Remus shifts his grip from neck to hair and holds him there, up against him, sucking and biting Sirius's jaw line, neck, cheek, ear. Sirius's arm arches over both of them and then holds tight to the back of Remus's head. They're completely intertwined and that's enough to send Remus flying over the edge, coming hard enough that he thinks his heart's going to explode from it.

Sirius is touching himself, wanking with quick jerks, and Remus reaches around and stops him. "Let me," he whispers into Sirius's ear and then pulls them apart before flipping Sirius around. This time, Sirius is sitting on the arm of the couch while Remus sinks to his knees and then sucks Sirius's cock deep within his mouth. He barely has enough time to bob once twice three times and Sirius comes with a cry, fingers embedding themselves into Remus's hair and pulling it to the point of pain.

Remus licks his way up Sirius's body and then pushes him backwards to flop, boneless, onto the cushions. He crawls on top of that skinny body and licks Sirius's neck once more.

"You're neither old nor wasted," he says into that sweaty skin and he can feel Sirius's grin.

~~**~~

The news that Ted Tonks is dead reiterates the danger that they've been ignoring so well. In the same owl, they're told that Harry and his friends are safe. They're staying with Bill and Fleur. It's a relief but Sirius isn't one to sit back and let things happen. Remus has been encouraging him to get well, to recover and then they'll join the war.

Sirius thinks that, perhaps, that's Remus's way of protecting him, especially in light of the news that Peter is dead. The only reaction that Sirius has is that he wishes it had been his own hands, not Peter's, that had taken that life. He regrets not getting to see the light leave that traitorous bastard's eyes.

The summons to Hogwarts comes, a silvery Patronus telling them to hurry. Sirius hugs Remus, a cocky grin on his face, as he hides his trepidation at lacking a wand. It won't keep him from doing his part.

The tunnel is both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Once they're through, they're off to fight.

Sirius doesn't fear death. He's been dead before and now it's others' turn to experience the drab greyness while Sirius has his ever-changing brown.