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The old house had always been out of bounds . Beyond the respectable neighbourhood of their own splendid townhouse, the brown brick building sat imposing and shadowed deep behind the overgrown front yard. Tales of the witch that lived in the house left many toys abandoned in that garden, and friends who walked that way to school would scurry past to avoid being in its presence too long. Mother forbade them to walk this way into town, for fear of them being infected by the poverty and disgrace.

But as they grew older, they became less fearful of the house. The once intimidating portico now seemed only splintered, and the foreboding darkness was now seen to be only dust and cobwebs. They stopped being scared of what their mother didn’t know, too. Her threats were never empty, this they continued to learn with every digression, but her eyes were not as all-seeing as she’d led them to believe.

Which is why, at the age of seventeen and eighteen, school blazers stowed safely in their bags and away from the filth of the dilapidated property, Regulus and Sirius were sneaking past the wedged-open side gate and down the narrow space between the house and the boundary wall.

Broken bicycles and empty plant pots littered the sideway, making their way precarious. Regulus let out a huff of laughter as Sirius clambered to right a sodden mop and bucket he’d bumped into, but the glare from his older brother was scarily similar to their mother’s and the rest of his giggles caught in his throat.

Towards the back of the property they heard the muffled sound of voices and the boys froze a moment before Regulus pushed past, full of fluff and bluster, and motioned for Sirius to lend a knee for him to reach the high, unboarded window. Rolling his eyes at the sacrifice of his trousers, Sirius held his breath as Regulus pushed up and peered in.

He watched for long enough that Sirius’ leg was starting to shake when the shout rang out, and he yanked Reg down by his shirt and ran for the gate. They ran with tears of laughter and relief running down their faces until they made it to the corner of their own street. Bent over, hands on knees and covering stitches, they gasped for breath until their thudding hearts slowed. At Sirius’ query, Regulus admitted that he didn’t see much beyond a hairy hulk of a man drinking straight from the bottle on an armchair before yelling at a boy their own age as he came in from the hallway.

They dusted each other off and straightened their clothes, making sure to have their story straight before trying to sneak into the house without rousing the attention of Mother. Their quiet steps up the stairs were in vain, however, as their father opened the door to his study as they hurried past. He shook his head at them, inclining his head towards their rooms and they walked on, more somber knowing that mother would hear of their late return from their tutor.

Given that he was the older brother (and the knees of his trousers were in such a state) it was Sirius who took the brunt of the punishment and had to sit gingerly in classes the next day.

The classics tutor was away ill, and both boys took the free afternoon as an opportunity to take their time in meandering home. Sirius flicked a hair tie at James as they parted ways. Regulus and his friends had been trading theories and half-made rumours about the mystery boy in the broken down house, and the way their heads were bowed together and their voices sniggered let Sirius know that they were certainly up to no good.

Regulus waved him away with irritation and Sirius took the afternoon free from his brother to bother Peter at his part-time job in the bookstore. They’d drifted a little since Pete had changed to a different sixth form school, but the friendship carried on in the moments between study and work and family obligations. It wasn’t until the sky started to darken that Sirius remembered that he ought to arrive home with his brother and he bid Peter a hasty goodbye.

He waited at the corner long after the sun was set and the street started to cool. His chest was twisting with anxiety by the time Regulus showed up, tie askew and sleeves rolled. They hurried to fix him for dinner and Sirius shushed his stories as they entered the house and made their way sheepishly to the dining room.

Later that evening, both a little sore and sorry for their transgressions, Regulus snuck into Sirius’ bed to tell him about the uninventive name Snape had come up with for the hairy man and the can of used spray paint now sitting in the bottom of Crouch’s school bag. When Regulus had slunk back to his own bed and Sirius was alone, he thought of the poor boy stuck in the house with the awful man.

He managed to wait until his brother’s breathing had evened out before tiptoeing out of their room with his clothes in hand. Sirius changed quickly in the hallway at the front door, closed it carefully and quietly behind him and raced through the streets. His shadow lengthened and shortened in the streetlights as he panted in the dark towards the old house. He nearly ran right up to the door before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to go into the yard, stopping almost comically at the low fence at the edge of the pavement.

There, splashed across the front door under the ramshackle portico, were the words that his brother and Crouch and Snape had been sniggering about. Sirius sighed in disappointment at his brother, bending almost double to abate the ache in his side. There was nothing he could do now but wait and apologise. He flicked his long hair out his eyes and caught a flicker of curtain in the uncanny orange glow. Shit.

He was about to sprint back for home when the door opened, creaking heavily on worn hinges, and the boy’s face poked through. His face must’ve shown his shock and horror at the situation because the boy didn’t call out accusations. Sirius raised his eyebrows and hands in apology at the tall boy in the doorway. His tawny hair shook about his face as he indicated his understanding and shut the door again, obviously not quietly enough as a booming yell shattered the quiet of the night.

Sirius winced as he ran back, hoping his sneaking was undetected. He held his shoulders stiffly all night and the next morning until his mother kissed him chastely on the cheek and waved them off to school. When Regulus questioned him, Sirius felt some part of him hesitate to share the scar-covered face with haunted eyes that he’d shared a moment of understanding with. He wanted to keep this for himself and felt justified, given his brother’s actions.

At the end of the day, he begged off sick from his piano lesson and left school before Regulus’ own music lessons had finished, making his way back to the old house. The boy was in the front yard, rucksack abandoned on the step as he scrubbed at the door. Sirius’ heart sank and he took a deep breath as he stepped off the pavement and onto the broken pavers leading to the mess his brother had made.

The other boy flinched when his shadow loomed on the door, and Sirius gasped when he saw the bruise blooming across his cheek. Neither of them said anything but Sirius took the brush from the boy’s hand and started scrubbing at the slur, wanting to take back the words his idiot brother had written. The boy watched him for a moment before disappearing inside. Sirius though he had simply gone, but he was back quickly with another brush. They worked side-by-side until the white paint was almost gone from the splintered grain. Sirius wiped his brow and dropped the brush into the bucket they’d shared, splashing water over their feet. Remus, the name whispered as though secret and the only word spoken between them, dipped his brush into water and flung it across Sirius’ shirt.

Gaping in surprise for only the moment it took for the sly grin to bloom across Remus’ face, Sirius cupped his hands and threw water back at the other boy, drenching his curls and sticking them lankly to the freckled face. The next few minutes were a mania of chasing and squeals as the cold water soaked their clothes and soothed their souls. Corralling Remus against the door, Sirius laughed softly at the other boy’s attempt to tip up the essentially empty bucket on them both. He shoved the wet hair back from Remus’ eyes, breath catching in his chest at the warmth in those honey-browns. He brushed the stray strands gently behind Remus’ ear and leant forward slowly, giving his new friend enough time for an out. When Remus didn’t take it, Sirius pressed his lips to blue knuckle marks on his cheek and pressed their foreheads together.

The sound of footsteps was like a jolt of electricity through them; they flew apart and both boys grabbed their school bags hastily, Sirius giving an awkward wave as he hurried back to the pavement and sped his way home. Regulus would be home by now and he would be in trouble for not being with him, but he couldn’t find it in him to be too bothered as he pressed his fingers to his lips.

He should’ve been bothered. The backs of his legs burnt with every brush of his trousers as he hurried his way through his lessons the next day, and the next, and he promised himself to a study session with James to his parents that he promptly rescheduled with his mate and took the long way to the old house to see Remus again. His legs still burnt against his trousers but he didn’t care so much as he hid in the shadows at the back of the house. He tapped against the grimy window, grinning as Remus jumped out of his skin and swore at him before letting him in.

They still didn’t talk much, taking opportunity of the warm sun on the soft bed and the hormones that often lead young men into trouble. Sirius kissed the bruise, now turning yellow, lips chasing any space of skin that made Remus sigh and gasp. Remus in return wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck and back and pulling him close, pressing their bodies together. Remus sat back against the wall and Sirius clambered atop his lap. Sirius winced as he sat back on his heels, weight pressing against the cane marks on his calves, and Remus frowned. Sirius pulled the back of his trouser leg up to show the still raised marks, and Remus’ face softened immediately. He took the dark-haired boy’s hands in his own and pulled at the collar of his tee, showing off small circular scars that could only be made one way. The heat from earlier dampened, two hurt souls consoled each other with gentle touches and nonsensical murmurs until the sun was low in the sky and Sirius had to make his way home.

Although it was days again before they had planned to spend any decent time together Sirius now walked to school separate from his brother, once so beloved but now drifting further from his affections, so he could walk a few streets with Remus. To avoid new marks and bruises, they met at different buildings every day and alternated the times and days Sirius snuck back into Remus’ room. That little space became a haven for the boys, a beacon of light separate to the rest of their dark homes and awful lives.

Mostly their time together was hazy with fun and pleasure, books and music and kisses exchanged. Sometimes they were unlucky and they spent their time together tending wounds, both physical and emotional, and wiping tears.

The honeymoon of their fledgling relationship was abruptly interrupted by the disappearance of Remus.

After months of walking together, he didn’t meet Sirius every day for a whole week. Sirius went each afternoon to the back of the house to check that everything was fine, but Remus’ room was dark and empty. If not for the changing mess of the bedsheets Sirius would’ve thought the old house finally abandoned. Sirius despaired, but held hope.

One week turned into two... turned into three.

It was a Thursday night, moon shining full and low in the sky, when Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. He snuck from his bedroom and walked with purpose to the old house, ever eerie in the orange glow of the streetlight, words scrubbed from the door faint but still visible with the light of the moon. Sirius wasn’t too concerned about the rasp of his shoes on the pavers as he walked to the back of the house. Remus wasn’t in his room, and Sirius’ insistent rapping went unanswered. The back door was locked, and Sirius’ heart started to race in panic. He paced along the empty side of the house, opposite to the one his brother and he had snuck down only months before.

A thud in the house made him stop. His decision was made. He went to the front of the house, pulling on the heavy door and oblivious to the squeal of the hinges.

He walked cautiously through the strange hallway, ignoring the rooms to the side and making his way to the back of the dark house. He stumbled a little as he reached the room Regulus must’ve seen, foot slipping from under him as he took in the flickering television and the threadbare couch suite. Muttering a curse under his breath, he looked up from the floor and his heart stopped.

Staring back at him, head at an unnatural angle and throat ripped out, was the figment of Remus’ nightmares, shared with Sirius in those quiet moments between sobbed explanations of new bruises. Sirius slipped again, and he realised that the floor was slick with the blood that splattered the wall behind him. The eyes blinked and Sirius swore before realising that no, they weren’t. The body was shifting, shaking... jerking rhythmically as a tearing sound pierced the silence of the dark room. He moved forward cautiously, scared to find a wild animal in the house and Remus gone.

But Remus wasn’t gone.

He was the wild animal.

Once curly hair plastered to his head with the dark blood that covered the room, eyes frantic and primal and unafraid as they bore into Sirius’ soul.

“He said they were right. And they are,” he growled, teeth black with blood in the moonlight. “I am a bad dog.”