The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

XCVII: A Place to Call Home

Remus was sitting on a rock beside the ocean. Beach sand sprawled away before him, all the way to the bright blue ocean water. The air smelled like salt and heat. He'd shrugged off his jumpers and folded them up, and they sat down beside him in a pile alongside the pile of Sirius's clothes - which he'd also folded.

Sirius himself, in nothing but his black undershorts, was splashing about in the shallow water at the edge of the ocean. Foam was sliding up from the waves and swirling about Sirius's shins and his hair was wet - he'd dove under the water a couple times - hanging in strands across his back. He was clapping and shouting and throwing his head back with laughter as he splashed about. 

It occurred to Remus that even as a human, Sirius Black looked as much the part of a dog at the moment as any dog could.

They'd wandered far off from where the people were crowded on the beach and found this space where they were alone, the beach lined by a rock wall, above which loomed tall trees that blocked the high afternoon sun from beating down on the rock where Remus sat. He had unbuttoned his oxford and let it hang open, the sleeves rolled up, but hadn't quite gotten to the point of taking it off yet, afraid how silvery-pink his scars would look in the brightness of the Costa Rican sunlight.

Sirius came running across the sand, then, the grains sticking to his legs and feet as he came, shaking his head so his hair sprayed water every which way. He ran all the way up to the rock and, not caring he was soaked, he pressed himself against Remus and kissed him. Remus could feel the invigorated energy coursing through Sirius and it was like kissing the old Sirius, the Sirius before everything happened, the Sirius of their fourth year, when things were new and fresh and full of passion and excitement and joy, when their biggest worry was what their next big adventure would be.

Well, this felt like an awfully big adventure, didn't it?

Sirius was grinning as he pulled back and he stood upright, grabbing his hair in his fist and wringing it out. He was outside of the line of the shade and he seemed to glow, the sun pelting down on his still-too-pale-thanks-to-Azkaban skin and Remus drew a deep breath because soon, after a time of being here together in Costa Rica, he knew Sirius's skin would tan and darken and be the shade that he remembered it being... and the tattoos all over his chest and arms and even his legs wouldn't be so jarringly dark.

Right now, they reminded him how desperately he wanted to spend an entire day and night just inspecting every one of those tattoos, memorizing them the way that Sirius had once spent a day and a night memorizing all of his scars. He used to keep count.

Remus looked up at Sirius, drew his wand and shook a towel out of the tip of it, which he tossed to Sirius. "Bleeding hell, you're good at that, aren't you?" Sirius said, taking the towel and using it to rub his chest off of water.

"By your last count - how many scars do I have?"

Sirius didn't even pause toweling off. "Two hundred and sixty-four. I counted in Vik before we left, though, so unless you've been heartily injured without me knowing about it since we've been tromping across North America, then my count is accurate."

"You counted in Vik? When?"

"You were asleep." Sirius threw the towel over his shoulders and quickly twisted his hair up into a knot at the top of his head.

Remus stared at him.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"I didn't know you counted my scars in Vik."

"There were so many new ones. I had to. Some of them have been reopened, too, and made larger." Sirius's eyes flitted along the length of the one across Remus's nose, which now had an arm that began up above his eyebrow and came down, and stretched over his left jawbone and down to his neck, dangerously close to the jugular, that soft place Sirius knew Remus's pulse could easily be found. 

"You have some scars, too, that I haven't seen before."

Sirius hesitated, then took up the shirt he'd bought from one of the souvenir shops on the strip, a brightly colorful thing with pictures of palm trees with parrots in the branches all over it. He shrugged it on but didn't bother buttoning it, leaving it open so his chest showed as he jumped into his jeans. He kept his eyes adverted from Remus as he kicked on a pair of sandals, also newly acquired, and with a flick of his wand, he had shrunk his old clothes and shoes into pocket-storage size.

"We need to find somewhere to stay tonight," Remus said, recognizing and respecting that Sirius was done talking about the scars.

"Somewhere with a real bed,"  Sirius added, looking at Remus meaningfully.

"Sirius, I will cut down a tree and build you a bed if that's what you want."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, slightly, "Yeah?"

"Without magic, even, if you keep giving me those fuck me eyes you're doing." Remus shivered.

Sirius's grin widened.

"It may be a temporary place tonight, but we've also got to work on finding a place to call home as well," Remus said. "Somewhere Buckbeak will be safe."

Buckbeak, who was laying in the trees above them, heard his name and gave a low squawk of a sound.

Sirius glanced up at him, "Oh quiet you great buzzard." He looked back to Remus. "Honestly, Moony. Anywhere that you are - that's my place to call home... anywhere you are in the world."

Remus stood up and walked over, kissing Sirius deeply, running one hand across Sirius's face as he did it. Sirius hummed into the kiss, pressing harder against him, their bared chests touching. As the kiss ended, Sirius bit onto Remus's lower lip and held for just a moment before they parted. He started into Remus's eyes, and Remus saw the grin still dancing on Sirius's face.

"Your eyes are chocolate."

"What?"

"Your eyes. They're chocolate, Remus."

It was the first time in over thirteen years that they'd been chocolate.