"You're not getting drunk, Sirius," Auguste places a hand over Sirius' own, stopping him from reaching for a third cup. "Don't tell me what to do," Sirius narrows his eyes.  "Stop it," Auguste says firmly, his fingers tightening around Sirius' wrist. Sirius snatches it away, eyes ablaze.

"Fine," he snaps, turning to leave. Auguste presses his fingers on the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and starts following Sirius. "Sirius," he calls, watching Sirius' stride away. Auguste catches up to him in the hallway that leads to the staircase.

"Sirius," he says again, reaching for Sirius' hand. Managing to grab it, he pulls Sirius to a stop. "Let go," Sirius mumbles, a little bit like a petulant child. It makes Auguste smile. "What's so funny to you?" Sirius is trying not to smile, Auguste can tell.

He brings his hands to Sirius' cheeks, turning his face up. "You know how you get when you're drunk," he says softly. Sirius moves his eyes down. "None of your business," he mumbles. "Of course it's my business," Auguste says, and presses their foreheads together. Sirius brings his hands up to Auguste's neck.

"I'm thinking too much," he says quietly. "I want it to stop."

"Getting drunk will only give you more to think about."

"Then you do it," Sirius says, "I can't... when I think, sometimes I just-" he stops himself. "Auguste,"

"Hmm?"

"Make me shut up. I don't know what I'm saying-"

Sirius lets himself be backed into the wall. Gently, because Auguste is always so careful with him. His mouth opens for Auguste's. This is nothing new or forbidden. Sirius breathes him in, letting himself sink into it, that feeling of blankness that follows right after their lips meet.

When they part, Sirius feels guilty.

"You're thinking of him," Auguste says into Sirius' hair, his hands holding Sirius at his waist. Sirius stays silent. Auguste draws back to look at him properly. "Why not... Why not tell him?"

"I don't want to talk about this," Sirius says, hiding his face in Auguste's shirt.

"Sirius..."

"Please, Auguste."

They stay like that for a while. Auguste pulls away. "Let's go find him. He's really cute. If you don't want him-"

"You wouldn't dare," Sirius laughs, shoving him. Auguste smiles widely. "Maybe I would," he challenges. "You'll just have to see."

***

"Where the hell is he?"

"Do you think he left?" Auguste asks.

"Fuck," Sirius runs a hand through his hair. "Wait, James isn't here either."

"Potter? I'm not disappointed," Auguste purses his lips. Him and James... they have a history of epically hating each other.

"He's my best friend, Auguste," Sirius shakes his head. "Let me call Remus." Sirius reaches for his phone. Amused, Auguste watches him struggle to make a call. "His phone is off." Sirius sighs.

"Isn't that his friend? Pierre, was it?"

"Peter," Sirius scoffs.

"Let me ask him," Auguste offers, noticing the distaste in Sirius' voice. He leaves Sirius in the corner of the room. When he returns, Sirius is typing away on his phone.

"He left," Auguste bites his lip.

"Fuck," Sirius curses again. "I should... do you think I should go after him? Try and find him? I have a bad feeling, Auguste."

"Relax, he'll be fine. You can go to his place, if you like."

"Yeah, I think I will. I don't know why, but... I just have this feeling..."

"Sirius," Auguste places his hands on Sirius' shoulders. "Just take a deep breath. There. Now you can go. And take my coat, it's cold outside."

***

"Remus,"

There's a pair of warm hands on Remus' cheeks.

He's leaned against something. A wall. And there's a pair of hands on his cheeks. For some time, this is all he can feel. Hands. Warm hands.

"Remus," he hears. "Remus, look at me."

Sirius.

Remus' eyes fly open without delay.

"Can you hear me? Remus, say something." Sirius' voice is urgent, desperate.

Remus speaks the one word his lips can form. "Sirius."

"Yes, it's me," Sirius whispers, pulling him into a tight embrace. Remus doesn't hug him back, he can't. His senses slowly start returning to him. He can feel how badly he's shaking, how weak his knees are. Sirius takes his face in his hands. "Listen to me," he says softly, "I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

Remus nods.

"Will you wait here?" Sirius asks, moving Remus' mussed hair out of his face. He moves back. Remus finds his hands shooting outwards, grabbing Sirius' arms. "No," he pleads, "Don't go. Please, don't leave me here."

"I'm coming back," Sirius promises. "I promise you. You have to trust me, okay?"

Remus doesn't know what to say. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can feel its pulse in his throat and his ears. He can't breathe.

"Do you trust me?" Sirius asks. Remus looks down at him, at his eyes. He can't see their colour in the dark. He thinks of all the days they've spend together. Building the shop, feeding the cats, reading together, brewing tea.

He nods.

"I won't let anything happen to you. Wait here for me."

As soon as Sirius' palms leave his cheeks, Remus feels a whole new kind of cold. He wraps his arms around himself and sinks to the ground. When he looks around, he realises that he's in a small alley that he's never seen before. He pulls his knees up to his chest and leans his head back.

He can see the stars, here from Hogsmeade. The moon is a pale crescent in the centre of the sky. Remus shivers at the sight of it, and looks back down. Left alone to his thoughts, he waits.

***

Author's Note

Look at me, I'm on a roll! I also low-key have a crush on Auguste and this is going to seriously test my writing capabilities but that's okay.

Btw, any South Asians here? No? Happy New Year, if there's anyone celebrating it. This time sucks, sigh. No sweets and no presents :'(

All the love,
Your author xx
13/04/2020