a n o t h e r . s e c o n d . t i m e . a r o u n d

Another Second Time Around
[by victoria p.]

Rating: PG

Summary: I need a chance, a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance, / A word, a signal, a nod, a little breath

Notes: Thanks as always to Jen, Pete/Melissa, Dot, and Meg. For Snacky. Based on the above lyric from REM's "Strange Currencies," and named after a GooGoo Dolls song.

Date: June 13, 2004

"Give me a second chance," Remus said abruptly, one morning a few days after they'd moved into number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

It was odd, Remus thought, because in their youth, it had always been Sirius who'd begged for second, third, fourth chances after throwing them away, Sirius who'd looked for signs that he'd been forgiven, accepted, loved, and seen them in the oddest things. It had always been Sirius who'd advanced, Sirius who'd made the first move -- to get together, to break up.

Sirius stared at him as though he were insane. Which, quite possibly, he was. He wondered if the house cast some sort of spell that made everyone who lived there mad. Given what he knew of Sirius and his family, it wasn't impossible, or even unlikely.

"What are you on about, Remus?"

"I-- forgive me," he replied, slightly unnerved by Sirius's steady gaze.

"For what?" Sirius frowned down at his toast and Remus was able to breathe again. "Finishing off the marmalade?" He tapped his knife against the empty marmalade jar. "I'm a little tired of currant jam and that's all we have left now."

"Yes-- no. I--" Really, it was quite annoying. If his mouth wanted to start these conversations, the least his brain could do was kick in something intelligent to say.

"Spit it out, would you? You didn't used to be this wishy-washy, did you? Used to order me about all the time." He smiled "Not that I ever listened," he added nostalgically.

Remus had to laugh at that. "No, you never did." Even he heard the melancholy underlying the words.

Sirius sobered. "Ah. Well. If I had listened to you--"

"No, Sirius, please. It's my turn to, to ask forgiveness. For believing for all those years--"

"Didn't make it hard, did I?" Sirius interrupted. He gestured vaguely with the knife, encompassing the kitchen, the house, the whole Black legacy. "You know where I come from. And then Regulus, the little git--"

"He was trying to get out," Remus said softly. "I was trying to help him. Dumbledore--"

"Dumbledore keeps too many secrets," Sirius snapped. "If he'd just told me--"

"Would you have believed him?"

"Of course."

Just like Sirius, Remus thought. No hesitation. No admission of weakness, not even now, after everything that had happened. But Remus knew it was a lie. The seeds of distrust had been sown long before those last, awful months before Sirius had left him and everything had gone to hell. They'd just needed careful tending to bloom into a devil's snare they were still unraveling today.

"Peter played us like a master."

Sirius growled at the mention of his name, and stabbed his toast viciously. "I'll find that rat, and I will kill him. And nothing will stop me this time."

"Sirius--"

"I forgive you. You forgive me." His voice was sharp, impatient, but he looked up from his half-eaten breakfast then, and the doubt and fear in his eyes almost took Remus's breath away. So much for Sirius still being the same. That was a look Remus had never seen on him before. "You do, don't you?" he said, softer now, uncertain.

"Yes."

"Well then." And he went back to his toast, but Remus could see his fingers were trembling slightly.

He let it drop.

They spent the day cleaning the bedrooms. The Weasleys were due in a few days, and Hermione with them, and Buckbeak was living in the only room they'd cleaned out so far. Remus had been sleeping on the small sofa in the library, with Sirius curled up as Padfoot on the hearth, but that situation would have had to change regardless, because Remus was developing a permanent crick in his neck, and Sirius couldn't spend the rest of his life as a dog.

When they were done, Remus was hot, sticky, dirty and tired. He told himself he was just going to sit for a moment while Sirius took a shower, and collapsed into the ugliest, most uncomfortable chair he'd ever seen, in the room that Sirius had claimed for himself.

It felt like heaven.

He certainly hadn't intended to fall asleep, but he woke sometime later to the feel of warm lips pressed against his forehead, and damp hair brushing over his skin. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of soap and Sirius, so familiar and yet slightly different after so many years apart.

He opened his eyes to see Sirius, dressed only in a pair of boxers riding low on bony hips, looking down at him, lower lip caught between his teeth.

"What?" Remus asked, still a little hazy from sleeping.

"As many chances as you like," Sirius replied, shoulders hunched awkwardly. "That is what you meant this morning, isn't it?"

He unfolded himself from the chair slowly, still feeling hot, sticky and dirty, but hope flared beneath the weariness, giving him new energy.

"Yes," he said, and then pulled Sirius close for a kiss.

end

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