"Hey," Sirius looks like he wants to say more, but his lips remain in a trembling part as his glossy eyes slowly take Remus in. "Remus..."

"Do I look that bad?" Remus tries to smile, and feels his eyes sting with tears. He quickly turns around, roughly pulling Sirius in before closing the door. These tears that he never bargained for... where are they coming from?

"I'll make you some tea," his words stumble, catching at the base of his throat before scratching past. "No, hey," Sirius gently grips his arm to stop him, and turns him around. "Is it your mom? Is she really sick?"

"My mom-" Remus shakes his head, remembering his excuse to Sirius. "I never told you she was sick," he sounds tired even to himself. "She's fine."

"But you're not," Sirius remarks. "Clearly," Remus tries to smile. He really wants to cry. "Come on, let's... I'll make the tea today," Sirius says, placing a hand on Remus' lower back. He can barely feel it through the thick wool of his jumper.

"Here's your mud, freshly boiled," Sirius places a mug in front of Remus, who's hunched forward in his chair. "Now tell me what's up. Or down, whichever." It's the silliness of it that makes Remus want to cry harder. Because here is a virtual stranger with beautiful eyes sitting in front of him asking him what's wrong, and that's not even the worst of it. Remus wants to tell him.

I never went to see my mother, he wants to say. Instead I shut myself up in a secret cellar and turned into a wolf.

"Nothing's down," Remus leans closer to feel the steam from his mug hit his face. It paints his cheeks a soft rose, but also gives his scars a bonus red. It's a win-lose situation. A lose-lose if you hate yourself.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Remus hears Sirius ask from in front of him. He doesn't want to meet his eyes.

"Yes," he replies, finally taking a sip of his tea. It leaves a burning trail down his throat. "I'm fine."

And he starts crying.

It's only two trails of tears down his cheeks at first. But when he finds himself being held, he can't stop. It's been so long since someone has touched him like that. He feels it everywhere. Sirius is everywhere.

He smells of perfume and something else, something so undeniably human. And he's so warm. His palms move slowly over Remus' clothed back, his arms are tight around his shoulders, his hair brushes Remus' cheek and it's so wonderful but so painful and Remus just can't take it.

He's forgotten the feel of being held like this, and it makes him cry harder. He doesn't know why he's crying like this, he doesn't know. All he knows to be true is what he can feel. That weight in his chest, the ache in his throat, the burn of his tears leave on his cheek in their wake and their cold as they fall on to his jumper and seep through on to his skin. And Sirius.

Half an hour later, they're both on the floor.

"I see you're fine," Sirius speaks after a while. He's sitting cross-legged with his head leaning back against the cupboards. "It doesn't get any finer than this."

Remus looks at him. It's that time of the morning when the sun is not completely up but its rays are angled to paint everything warm orange, that time when it's cold everywhere and only direct sunlight carries the comfort of warmth. One of those bright beams have found their way on to Sirius somehow, painting the edges of his hair in their colour and making him squint his eyes.

"It really doesn't," Remus says before realising that it sounds too depressing. "I don't know what came over me, Sirius. I'm sorry." He adds, pulling his legs up to rest his chin on his knees.

It's quiet for a while. Each passing second makes Remus more and more anxious. He tightens his arms around his legs and closes his eyes. How can he explain what the hell just happened when he doesn't understand it himself?

He opens his eyes when he feels something soft on his cheek. It's a butterfly. Its snow white wings are tipped with black. Remus unwraps one arm and offers his hand to it. He can't help smiling when it flutters on to his palm.

Remus watches as it makes its way up towards the ceiling, when suddenly a ball of black and white fluff darts out from Merlin knows where and leaps at it. "Oh, oh no," Remus gasps in horror as Mittens lands a hit on the butterfly.

Much to his surprise, the butterfly bursts into a shower of silver sparks. "What a sadist," Sirius remarks, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips. He gives Remus a sideways glance. Only now does Remus notice that his wand is out.

"You... did you-" Remus blushes. "Yes, yes I did," Sirius grins. Another wave of his wand produces a dozen or so more butterflies like glittering jewels. Their iridescent wings catch the sunlight, casting short-lived rainbows on the walls as they dance around the kitchen.

Mittens is having the time of her life, swatting at them and hopping around. The noise attracts her feline housemates and soon enough, the kitchen is a dizzying pantomime of cats chasing magic butterflies to the rhythm of two boys laughing on the floor.

At the end of it, there's a broken mug on the floor, a black cat haughtily strutting past a puddle of cold tea as if none of it was her fault, and three other cats hiding under tables and chairs because as far as they're concerned, the world is ending.

But there are also two boys, still giddy with laughter as they help each other stand up. And they both know that something's changed. Some door has opened, some path to intimacy that neither of them can describe.

Remus waves his wand at the mess of porcelain and tea. "Sit down," he tells Sirius, "I'll make the tea this time."