"Home is any four walls that enclose the right person."

Helen Rowland

REMUS

Losing the map was like ridding himself of a massively heavy burden. Remus had forgotten how amazingly brilliant a full night's sleep could be. A week passed and suddenly he could think again, and see again, and concentrate in classes and find the sight of Peter standing on the lid of toilet seat in his I-Heart-Honeydukes underpants screeching about doxies in the shower curtain funny rather than exhausting.

Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to enjoy his newfound energy, as he was expending nearly all of it trying to make up for the work he'd let slip since he'd first heard about the game of Touch Bark. He was spending an inordinate amount of time in the library, much to the disgust of the other Marauders, but he was determined that by the end of the school year he would be fully caught up. That gave him just under two months.

It was late morning on the last Saturday of May when Remus made his way to the library after waving James and Sirius off to Quidditch practice. Peter had taken one look at Remus's teetering pile of books and made a break for it, trailing mumbled excuses that may or may not have included the words 'pudding', 'promises', 'moustache' and 'lingerie'. Remus decided he didn't want to know. Ever.

The library was littered with a healthy sprinkling of students - mostly fifth and seventh years frantically studying for OWLs or NEWTs. Wandering through the shelves, Remus searched for a free spot and cheered up when he spotted Lily, Alice and Rebecca working at one of the larger tables.

"Oh look," Alice said cheerfully as she caught sight of him. "It's the Good Influence. Where are your normal trail of miscreants?"

"They can't be trusted in the library for any length of time," Remus admitted. "You know what they're like."

The girls nodded wisely: Rebecca rather more vigorously than the other two. Much as Remus hated thinking about her past relationship with Sirius, she was probably the only other person here who truly understood what it felt like to be responsible for him when he was on a library rampage.

"Feel free to join us if you like," Lily said, "Have you managed to finish that essay on the Bladderwrack potion for Professor Slughorn yet?"

Remus winced and pulled the offending essay out from his stack of books as he settled himself. Lily had been helping him catch up with potions work, but it was never going to come naturally to him. "Er... well, I know the theory of it, but when I practiced it in our bathroom yesterday it melted the bottom out of Peter's practice cauldron. It also melted a large section of tiles and most of one of our bath mats. It only stopped when Sirius washed it down the drain. Merlin only knows what it's done to the plumbing. I'm meant to analyse my results but I don't even know where to start."

"How on earth did you go so wrong with Bladderwrack potion?" Alice asked, looking horrified. "It's meant to be ingested!"

"Trust me, it would have ingested you before you could ingest it," said Remus gloomily. "It definitely ingested Prongs's toothbrush."

"Here," Lily said, holding out her hand. "Let me see your method and maybe we can figure out where you went wrong. And you'd better buy him a new toothbrush. His mouth is not getting anywhere near me if he's skipping out on oral hygiene."

"It's fine. We have spares. It's amazing the dreadful things that happen to toothbrushes in Marauder dorms. Being ingested by an un-ingestible potion is the least of it."

Remus slumped as Lily frowned over his work and his eyes caught on the book she had been reading. "Healer training? Are you thinking of becoming a Healer, Lily?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes, I was thinking of it." She looked up and gestured to Rebecca. "We both are, although Alice wants to be an Auror. She says she can't think of anything she'd like less than being stuck in a hospital day in and day out for the rest of her life."

Alice grinned and shrugged. "I'm an active person. Besides, Frank is planning on trying out for the Aurors and I'd like to be there with him to stop him doing anything too stupid."

Remus tried to imagine himself stopping Sirius from doing anything too stupid and failed. "Why a Healer?"

"Because…" Lily pursed her lips. "Look, there's no point pretending that things are going to be okay over the next couple of years because there's no hiding that we're basically at war right now. I planned on fighting – and I still intend to – but what good is fighting if there's no one around to heal the injured?"

"We haven't got around to researching what it's like in the Wizarding world, but in the Muggle world Lily says there are 'army doctors' who are right there on the frontline doing their jobs," Rebecca continued. "We're thinking we could be something like that. We could be developing our skills while we help out with the war effort."

Remus frowned. Something about the certainty in her tone when she spoke about being able to help out with the war triggering a growing suspicion in the back of his mind. "You three didn't, by any chance, have a little meeting with Dumbledore recently, did you? Where he encouraged you to think about what side you'd be supporting after school and hinted that maybe he could help you if you wanted to help with the war effort?"

The girls gaped at him. "That meeting was meant to be private," Alice said accusingly.

"It was," Remus assured her. "It's just, you weren't the only ones who had one."

There was a surprised pause.

"You had one, too?" Rebecca frowned. "What about Potter? And Sirius?"

"All of us. Including Peter."

Alice raised her eyebrows. "Pettigrew? What good would he do in a battle?"

"He has his strengths, you know," Remus said defensively. "I bet you ten Galleons that none of you could do a better shield charm than him. He…he's capable of more than you'll ever know. I wish people wouldn't judge him."

"Shield charms maybe," said Rebecca, "But what else has he ever done that earns him his place in Gryffindor?"

He risked everything to become an Animagus for me, Remus wanted to say. He spends every full moon in the company of a transformed werewolf fifty times his size. He saved me and a whole cageful of others from Death Eaters. He suffered the Cruciatus curse when he was twelve years old and still plans to fight in this war.

But he couldn't say anything. Nothing at all. Because every one of the bravest moments of Peter's life had to be kept a secret and it broke Remus's heart.

He looked up at the sound of Lily's fingers drumming on the Healing book, her eyes pensive. "I don't really know what to think about all this."

"What do you mean?" asked Remus.

"Well. Turns out Voldemort isn't the only one recruiting in our schools."

"Lily!" Rebecca looked scandalised. "You can't compare Dumbledore to You-Know-Who!"

And it was true, Remus thought. Dumbledore was completely different to Voldemort. But at the same time a tiny, niggling part of him – the part that saw Peter's frightened face whenever they discussed their role in the coming war, or witnessed a couple of teenagers planning to try and heal mortal wounds on the frontline of a war - that wondered how much Dumbledore might be so blinded by the Greater Good that he failed to see the tiny people he was using to build it. Those tiny people would be over-confident and under-trained and frightened and lost, and Remus knew what frightened people could be driven to do. He had the scars as evidence.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"Sirius is acting suspiciously."

Peter looked at Remus blankly. "And…"

"And nothing! He's acting suspiciously."

"If Padfoot ever wasn't acting suspiciously, we'd all be afraid he'd been soul-sucked by a Dementor. Sirius is made of suspicious."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Let me rephrase. Sirius is acting out of character."

With a groan, Peter put down his trowel. "You know, I knew you didn't offer to help me out with remedial Herbology out of the goodness of your heart."

"Nope," Remus agreed. "I agreed to help you because you promised to let me practice my duelling on you."

"With me."

"Pete it only counts as duelling with someone if you remember to stop cowering enough to actually cast a spell. Shield charms don't count if they're all you ever use."

The two of them were sitting together at a battered table in Greenhouse 5. The Screechsnaps Peter had accidentally poisoned when he knocked over a jar of bubotuber pus were huddled in the corner of their large flowerpot squeaking disconsolately. Their petaled mouths gaped in Remus's direction as he dribbled honey into them in an effort to calm them down while Peter scooped out the contaminated compost and replaced it with fresh.

"I'm good at shield charms," Peter said, picking up his trowel and reluctantly scooping again.

"I know you are, Pete. That's why I like having you as a duelling partner for practice. I know there's no way anything we're allowed to cast on the sixth year curriculum is getting through. But you've got to realise that, if you want to join up to fight in the war, a shield charm is just not going to cut it. For one, it won't last forever. Your energy will eventually run out. And two, there is no shield charm in the world that will block the kinds of spells the Death Eaters might throw at you."

"Maybe I don't want to fight."

"Good. Then don't. Do something else. You have talents, Wormtail. The Residential and Commercial Shielding Department at the Ministry is always looking for new staff. People need to keep their houses and businesses safe, particularly at a time like this. The work might be a little repetitive, but it's important. And it's safe."

"But you three are going to fight."

And that was Peter in a nutshell. So desperate to follow his friends he'd trail them into a warzone. It really was brave in a blindly loyal kind of way. Remus sighed and watched the honey trickling off the spoon. The sunlight was streaming in through the greenhouse windows and it looked like liquid amber and the air was filled with the scent of compost, honey and old wood.

"So what's he doing, then?" Peter asked.

"Hm?"

"Padfoot. What's he doing that's 'out of character'?"

"Oh, right. Well, he's just being really secretive. The last couple of weeks he keeps disappearing for hours and then being really vague about where he's been. You know, like when he didn't come with the rest of us to the kitchen last night even though we all know he never turns down the chance to eat treacle pudding. When I asked where he'd been he said he'd been helping some fourth years with Charms."

"What? Voluntarily? Without it being part of a punishment?"

Remus nodded, gently nudging back a Screechsnap that made a terrified break for freedom over the rim of the pot when Peter's trowel got too close. It squeaked in protest.

"Huh. That is suspicious." Peter pulled on a pair of gloves and scooped the contaminated dirt piled on the table surface into a bag, then reached for another bag of fresh compost. "Maybe he's planning a prank he knows you won't approve of. Is Prongs mysteriously disappearing at the same times?"

"Prongs mysteriously disappears with Lily all the time," Remus said wryly. "Frankly, I prefer it to stay mysterious. Besides," he dribbled more honey into the tiny gaping petal-mouths, "he isn't doing his 'I'm planning a prank you're going to disapprove of' kind of evasiveness. It's more like his 'this is something big and I'm not sure how to tell you' evasiveness, and frankly that scares the crap out of me."

"Well, yeah. Considering the things he's got up to in the past. You think it's something bad?"

Remus hesitated, his mind stumbling through his own feelings on the issue. "No," he said eventually. "Just…important."

"Well." Peter gave the compost a last satisfied pat with his trowel. "I don't know what to tell you, mate. Want to follow him under the invisibility cloak?"

"No. Just wanted to…you know."

"Talk about it with someone who won't mock you endlessly or twist it round so it becomes a conversation about the amazing fiery redness of Evans's hair?"

Remus snorted. "You have a way with words, Wormtail."

"Great to know I have a way with something, anyway."

"You have a way with a lot of things, you know. Do you honestly think you'd be one of the Marauders if you didn't? The only thing you need a bit more of is self-confidence."

"And backbone."

"You have backbone," Remus reassured him. "You just need to make use of it on occasion. So are we done here?"

"Yeah, I think we're finally done." Dropping his trowel onto the table with a clang, Peter brushed his hands off and stretched. "Chocolate cake break?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Remus's mild suspicions accelerated into outright worry when he wandered into the almost-deserted common room the next day after Ancient Runes to discover Sirius tutoring fourth year Gryffindors. Okay, it may have been a very Sirius-style approach to tutoring, but it was still quite clear that things were being taught and, more important, learned.

The common room smelled appalling and Remus watched with wide eyes as Sirius, a red and gold scarf wound tightly around his nose and mouth, waved his hand imperiously at fourth year Rodney McCleod. "Again!"

Poor McCleod retched a little, took a deep breath into the relatively sweet-smelling sleeve of his robe, then raised his wand. "Accio dung bomb!"

"Please catch it this time, Rod!" one of the other fourth years yelled in a muffled voice, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. "I don't think we'll survive another one otherwise."

A dung bomb rose shakily from a pile on the floor, then soared wildly to the left of where McCleod was standing. It shattered against the wall behind him – a wall already splattered with previous attempts. The appalling smell grew appallinger.

"Great Godric," a fourth year girl with frizzy black pigtails moaned. "Is it possible to die from dung bomb overdose?"

"He was more accurate than last time," Sirius offered, and Remus could see that the whole back wall was littered with dung bombs moving gradually closer and closer to where the hapless McCleod was standing. "However, I think it's safe to say that you should never try out for Keeper, McCleod."

"Sirius," Remus said, deciding it was time to speak up before a couple of them actually passed out, "I think possibly a break is in order." The only reason Remus wasn't passing out himself was that his sensitive nose had well become acclimatized to the smell of dung bombs after six years in a Marauders' dorm. Even so, he was feeling distinctly light-headed.

Sirius's face broke into a smile beneath the scarf as he caught sight of Remus. "Moony!"

"The common room, Sirius? Really? No wonder there's no one else in here anymore. It's going to take hours for the smell to dissipate."

Sirius shrugged and gestured to McCleod. "Okay, short stuff, you're off the hook for today. You and your mates better get on cleaning this mess up."

"But…" McCleod started to protest, but he accidentally took a deep breath and broke off to a round of retching.

"Good lad." Sirius gave him a friendly pat on the back, then grabbed Remus's sleeve and dragged him up the stairs to their dorm before McCleod could recover enough from his retching fit to protest.

"Sorry, Moony," Sirius said as Remus stumbled across to the window, flung it open and took in a number of deep breaths. "If I'd known you'd be coming back that soon I'd have done it elsewhere. How's the nose?"

"It may never recover."

Humming again in apology, Sirius moved up behind him and cupped the back of Remus's neck with a gentle hand. "Still not as bad as Prongs's Pong," he pointed out.

Remus huffed a laugh and leaned back into the hand. "True." The air floating in from the window smelled like the beginnings of summer: newly turned earth, warm grass and rain. "So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," said Sirius airily.

"Yes you do, Pads, and I don't like being kept in the dark. You know that. It makes me itchy."

Sirius obligingly moved his hand up into Remus's tawny hair and scratched his head. "It's a surprise. If I tell you now it'll ruin it."

"Something illegal?"

"Moony. I'm tutoring fourth years. How illegal can it be?"

"It smells pretty illegal down in the common room right now."

"Yeah, well, McGonagall didn't exactly provide lesson plans and I had to do something to make it more bearable."

"Professor McGonagall is in on this?"

"Of course she is. Did you think I was tutoring out of the goodness of my heart?"

It did sound highly unlikely, Remus had to admit. "So? What is it?"

"Tomorrow."

"What?"

"I'll let you know tomorrow. It's nearly ready anyway. Let me keep it a secret for one more day, okay?"

Sirius's hand had moved down to cup the side of Remus's neck. He stepped forward so his body was pressed in one long warm line up Remus's back, his hand sneaking beneath the neck of his robe and tracing over Remus's collar bone, before calloused fingers slid further down to brush across his right nipple.

"Oh, Merlin, fine! Tomorrow then," Remus's voice was breathless and he tipped his head back, turning it to tuck his face into Sirius's neck.

"Hmm…" Sirius said with satisfaction. "So, I have a few ideas about how to pass the time as we wait."

"Me too," Remus mumbled, tasting salt and skin and Sirius against his lips. "So many ideas."

By the time either of them glanced out of the window again, night was falling.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

"We have to Portkey out from McGonagall's office."

"Portkey?" Remus eyed Sirius as the two of them hurried down the corridor. "We're going somewhere?"

"Well, we will be if the Portkey doesn't go before we get there. Honestly, Moony, how long does it take to change your robe? You were up there for ages!"

"If I'd known we were working to a Portkey time limit, I wouldn't have finished the last chapter."

Sirius groaned. "Last chapter? You were reading up there?"

"I only had a couple of pages to go and I had to know what happened."

"You knew I was in a hurry."

"You're always in a hurry. If I hurried every time you told me to I'd never walk anywhere."

They reached to door to Professor McGonagall's office and Sirius knocked.

"I don't tell you to hurry everywhere."

"Yes, you do! You –"

"I hate to interrupt this bickering," Professor McGonagall said as she opened the door, "but you're running rather late, Mr Black. Mr Lupin," she nodded to Remus as he passed her into the room. "On the table, gentlemen."

She pointed to a small china teacup. There was a picture of a kitten on the side that looked like it used 'cute' as a deadly weapon.

"Quick, Moony!" Sirius yanked Remus forward by his sleeve and they both had just enough time to touch the teacup with their fingertips before there was a sharp yank below Remus's navel and the world blurred around them.

When it cleared they were standing in the middle of a narrow path. On either side of them, trees stretched as far as Remus could see, and in front of them was a cottage. It looked like something that had been transplanted from a fairy tale. Not one of the glittery, pastel-infused fairy tales from modern books, but more like the kind of fairy tale the Grimm brothers wrote about.

It was wonky, in every sense of the word – right from the tip of its crooked chimney down to the uneven step leading into the front door. Its black and white wattle-and-daub walls were weathered and coated in a healthy blanket of ivy, which swarmed up onto a thatched roof that had definitely seen better days. In fact, Remus was sure that magic had to play a large part in it remaining intact at this point. Most roofs did not have small, blossoming apple trees sprouting from the slowly decomposing top layer of straw.

The whole house was surrounded by a low dry-stone wall that was parted by a wooden gate. Oddly enough, the small front garden showed signs of a recent attempt to tame it.

"Sirius…?" Remus turned to him. "What exactly is this?"

Sirius just smiled, looking enormously pleased with himself. "Come with me."

He led the way up to the gate and opened it, beckoning Remus through. Following hesitantly, Remus stepped into the little front garden. It consisted of a half-heartedly mowed lawn, a few window boxes featuring some violently scarlet and yellow geraniums, and on either side of a gate, two long flower beds.

"Do you get it yet?" Sirius urged, eyes bright. "Come on, Moony!"

Remus hesitated, following Sirius's excited gaze to the two large flower beds. The person who had created them clearly had a fairly haphazard approach to gardening and the result was a brilliant tangle of colourful flowers and green leaves. There wasn't much variety in the plant choices, though. In fact, as Remus looked closer, he realised there were actually only two kinds of plants growing jumbled together. One he recognised immediately, a smile coming to his face.

"Lupins," he said, pointing the large, sturdy, pointed flowers ranging from palest yellow to deepest purple. "And…" He studied the other plants vying for space amongst the lupins. They had delicately furred stems and leaves of a more muted green than the brighter sun-burst shaped ones of the lupin. From the tips of their stems burst hundreds of tiny, delicate star-like flowers. Most were a kind of indigo-blue, but Remus spotted a few pinks and purples as well. Remus's memory flung up an image from the page of one of his mother's old potion books. "…borage?" he hazarded.

"Yes!" Sirius looked delighted. "That's a proper phenomenal memory you have on you, Moony. It is borage, which is also known as 'starflower'. Look - the petals are like a five-point star. Did you know that in medieval times, knights would eat these flowers before going into battle because they believed they would make them more courageous?"

"No, I didn't know that," Remus murmured, staring at Sirius who was almost buzzing with excitement.

"You get it, though, right? Why I planted them?"

Remus frowned in thought as he gazed at the beds again. "Lupins and starflowers." He felt his heart skip a beat and he turned to stare at Sirius. "You planted Lupins and starflowers together. In this little garden. Outside this wonky little cottage."

"In our little garden," Sirius corrected. "Outside our wonky little cottage."

Remus felt himself gape unattractively. "Our cottage?"

"Well, it was my Uncle Alphard's originally. But he passed it on to me. I got the deeds to it with his will over Easter. I begged Professor McGonagall to let me come and see it, and she did, and when I saw it I just knew it would be perfect. It's slap bang in the middle of the New Forest, Moony! Miles and miles of trees and bushes and wild horses and badgers and hardly any people. The wolf is going to love it! I begged McGonagall to let me come here sometimes so I could do it up for when we left school next year. She got Flitwick to put up all these wards and things and made me promise to tutor the bloody fourth years, but she let me do it. I think she's finally softening to me after all these years. Or not. She always had a soft spot for you, so when I told her I wanted to invite you to come and live here with me she was suddenly all smiles and concern and –" Sirius broke off and leaned closer to study Remus's dazed face.

"You are happy about this, right?"

"H-happy?" Remus turned to Sirius, eyes bright with tears as he smiled. "I can't even…You did this for us? You…you tried to mow the lawn and planted lupins and borage and…there aren't even words."

Sirius shrugged and ducked his head. "Those words were fine, Moony."

Remus reached out and pulled Sirius into a tight hug, holding onto him as he peered over his shoulder and tried to imagine them doing this here again – every day if they wanted to – of the rest of their lives.

"Do you want to see inside?" Sirius asked, voice muffled by Remus's shoulder

"Yeah," Remus reluctantly pulled away, "I really do."

"Okay! So this is the front garden, obviously, and this is the path, and this if the front step, but watch out because it's a bit wonky, yeah? Trips you up sometimes. Deliberately. Uncle Alphard put a charm on it which I'm trying to take off. Don't think he was keen on guests."

Sirius bounded ahead of him in pure Padfoot style, producing a large silver key from his pocket and jamming it into the lock of the front door. He flung it open, then waved Remus through with a melodramatic flourish.

Remus followed him inside and couldn't help smiling as he looked around. A main bedroom, a smaller room that had clearly been used as a study, and the bathroom all led off from the largest, central room of the house. This room was a jumble of kitchen, living room and dining room, made all the more chaotic by the fact that's Sirius's taste in furnishings was clearly at polar opposites to his uncle's. While Alphard, in keeping with the style of the cottage's exterior, had leaned towards rustic woods, stones and pottery, Sirius was all about anything that looked fast, brightly coloured, or likely to explode.

On a beautifully carved Welsh dresser in the corner of the kitchen area, delicately hand-painted pottery plates had been pushed aside to accommodate a model Harley Davidson motorbike with a small stuffed-toy dog wearing sunglasses riding it. The plain olive green and brown rag rug on the floor of the living area paled into insignificance next to the large, obnoxiously orange sofa with lime green tassels. On the ancient, well-scrubbed antique dining table, a bunch of lupins and starflowers had been haphazardly jammed into a jar that still read 'Bertie's Best Burp Pellets' on the side.

"So?" Sirius asked, as Remus stood in the middle of the main room and turned in a slow, incredulous circle to take it all in.

"Well," Remus murmured, "I've never lived anywhere were you have to wear sunglasses to sit on the sofa to avoid burning your retinas."

"I knew you'd like it," Sirius said, looking pleased. "Have a look at the other rooms."

The main bedroom had clearly undergone a recent but rather violent red and gold makeover and was still recovering from the experience. It resembled what the Gryffindor dorms might have looked if the interior decorator had been suffering from the effects of a Confundus charm which had then been treated with acid. It was Sirius all over and for that reason alone Remus immediately fell in love with it.

"Wow," he mumbled, staring at the large four-poster bed, which sort of looked like someone had tried to dress it in a Christmas-themed ball gown. "Those curtains are certainly something."

"I had them specially made."

"Yes. I can really see your hand in the design."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, Padfoot. I really, really do."

"Good. Now come see the study." He dragged Remus, who was feeling a bit hypnotised by the sheer red-and-goldness of the bed, out of the room by his arm.

The study, oddly enough, was nearly all Alphard. It was lined floor to low ceiling with dark, sturdy oak shelves, every one of which was stuffed full of parchment and books. An equally sturdy oak desk – which looked like it belonged in a much larger house – was clearly set up for someone who spend a lot of time sitting at it. Dozens of quills were stuffed into a chipped mug which was flanked by an army of ink-pots. Piles of fresh parchment were piled up neatly on one side of the desk, while another neat stack was covered in tiny, cramped copper-plate writing on the other.

"Uncle Alphard was a historian and a research wizard," Sirius explained quietly as he hovered in the nearly untouched room. "His speciality was deciphering ancient documents in forgotten languages to rediscover old spells which he could alter for modern use."

Remus was fascinated. He traced his fingers over the spines of the shelved books reverently. "What an amazing job," he breathed.

"Just up your street, I thought," Sirius agreed. "There's not many people in the world that can create spells, or even understand enough about how they're put together to alter them in some way. Uncle Alphard always said it was something that couldn't be taught; that some people just have a natural talent for it and that the talent should be nurtured because without it our world would become stagnant. Whenever I see you focused on altering spells to fit our pranks I always think of that. I want you to have the things in here. You're the only person I know who would properly appreciate them."

"I-I just…wow…" Remus pressed his fingers to his mouth as he tried take it in, then unable to help himself, he spun round and pulled Sirius into a fierce kiss. "Pads…"

"I know, Moony," Sirius said, also looking a bit dazed as he drew back.

"Can I just…" Remus gestured to the books.

"No way," said Sirius immediately. "I'd never get you out again. Come on, we've only got another half hour before we have to get back. Let's go have a cup of tea. I stocked the kitchen cupboards."

It was only once they were sitting at the kitchen table with the jar of flowers in front of them that what Sirius was offering truly began to sink in. The first shine of amazement started to wear off as Remus's practical brain began flinging up questions.

He glanced sidelong at Sirius who caught the look immediately and sighed in resignation. "Let's have it then, Professor Lupin."

Remus straightened and braced himself. "We're seventeen."

There was a long pause.

"That's it?" Sirius asked. "We're seventeen? I know you're not one for making big revelatory announcements, Moony, but that was bad even for you."

"This is a house. An actual house that you own and which we would be in charge of."

"We'll be eighteen when we graduate. That's grown up, even by Muggle standards."

"Do you feel grown up?" Remus gesturing to the dog on the motorcycle.

"Well…no. But I'm really good at acting."

"We can't even get through a term without accidentally flooding our dorm or setting it on fire. And what do you know about housekeeping? Be honest, have you ever actually washed your own underpants? Ever?"

"It can't be that hard. Even Slytherins do it once they leave school."

"Ninety percent of Slytherins are pureblood. They probably have house-elves to do it. And what about cooking?"

"I'm good at potions."

Sirius began to look defensive and Remus was immediately sorry. He looked at the lupins and starflowers in the jar. They were wilting. Sirius, Remus noticed, had forgotten to put water in it. He sighed and stood to carry the jar over to the sink. He carried at back and set it on the table again, feeling something inside him twist at the dejection on Sirius's face.

"I'm not saying no, Padfoot. I'm really excited, actually. But one of us also needs to be the voice of reason. We can't rush into this. We have to sort things out. Grown-up things."

Sirius mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I said 'That's what McGonagall said'."

Remus smiled knowingly. "You mean that's what McGonagall thought you've been doing all this time, right?"

Sirius sucked in his cheeks and stared up at the ceiling innocently.

"What about water?"

"What about water?" Sirius said, blinking at the change in subject.

"Well, you clearly have it," Remus said, gesturing to the jar. "Who supplies it? And the sewage system?"

Sirius stared at him. "The…er…sewage-and-water people?"

"Muggle sewage-and-water people?" Remus prompted patiently, "or people from the Municipal Department at the Ministry?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! Because…" Remus was rather hazy on the issue himself, but scrambled around in the depths of his brain for things he'd picked up over the years. "Well, if you live in a Muggle area with Muggle utilities, you have to pay Muggle companies for water and sewage and things. If you are supplied by the Ministry of Magic, you have to pay them keep the charms and spells running and make sure none of them is wearing thin. If you don't pay the right people it will get cut off. And I can see we've got charmed bulbs for light in here. They're replenished and re-charmed by some company or another, aren't they?"

"I don't know!" Sirius was beginning to look panicked. "How do I find out?"

"I don't know either. I guess we need to look through your uncle's paperwork and figure it out. It's fine, Pads. We can do this."

"I didn't think of any of that."

"Well," Remus reached across the table and squeezed Sirius's hand. "That's why you have me. For the boring stuff."

"I just pictured us here hanging out with Prongs and Wormtail and Lily. I thought maybe we could invite others as well – like Frank and Alice. And we'd probably have to invite Douglas and Rebecca, too."

"We could have a bonfire in the garden," Remus suggested, "or Gobstone tournaments."

"Or play Quidditch. Lots of trees to hide us from the Muggles here."

They smiled at one another, excitement returning.

"We could get another pet to keep Hamish company," Sirius said. "Maybe chickens. That's what Lily said we should do."

"Chickens?"

"Yes. Chickens," Sirius insisted.

"We'll barely be able to keep ourselves alive. I don't know the first thing about chickens. Anyway, how does Lily know about all this?"

"She didn't say it now. She said it more like a general statement."

"What, like: 'Sirius, I decree that you and Remus must keep chickens.'"

"And start a band."

"A band?"

"It's practically the rules."

The criminally-cute-kitten cup which Sirius had discarded on the table suddenly began to glow.

"That's our five minute warning," Sirius said.

Looking around the little living area again, Remus found he didn't want to go yet. He kept seeing new things – the faded gingham curtains in the kitchen window, the little stack of pots and cauldrons under the sink, the dried herbs hanging from the wooden beams that criss-crossed the ceiling. There was a garish patchwork cat bed tucked under one of the kitchen chairs that had the word 'Hamish' scrawled across the side in the worst example of the chain-stitch charm Remus had ever seen. The basket beside the large open fireplace in the living room was stacked with neatly chopped wood.

"This feels like home, Sirius," he said.

Sirius's face lit up and he scrambled around the table, dropping to his knees in front of Remus and pressing his face into Remus's lap, his arms winding around his waist. "I'm glad." He raised his head, grey eyes unusually serious. "I wanted somewhere for us to come back to. I know we're planning on fighting in this war, but I think it's important that we have something to fight for. I like to think about us maybe five or six years from now. The war will be over. James and Lily will be all married and living somewhere posh with maybe a couple of babies for us to spoil. Peter will be staying over – he'll sleep in the study on this old fold-up camping bed I found out back – because he's tired of hanging out with his parents. Doreen will still be stringing him along with her seductive moustache, of course. We'll be getting ready to invite Frank and Alice over for some sort of dinner party thing like grown-ups do…"

The kitten-cup began to meow a warning.

"It's a beautiful dream," Remus murmured wistfully, running his fingers through Sirius's hair.

"It's our future, Remus."

Remus personally thought their future was likely to be lot more violent and bloody than that, but he hoped against hope that he was wrong.

"Right, grab onto the cup," said Sirius, sitting up and reaching for it. "McGonagall throws a real hissy fit if you miss it."

"You speak from experience, I gather."

"Let me tell you, you can't take a hissy fit from a cat Animagus lightly."

Remus sniggered as he reached out to touch the rim of the cup, and the cosy little cottage whirled away to be replaced by Hogwarts's ancient stones.