Fred looked up from the counter and nodded, shutting the glass door he was holding. "Remus."

"How's business?"

"Booming."

"That's nice." Remus glanced around the shop then back at the counter. "And how are you?"

"I'm brilliant, mate. My ex-girlfriend's shagging my younger brother, my family is bleedin' thrilled about it and my twin is having an illicit affair with someone old enough to be his father. What isn't good about my life?"

"I'm sorry about Hermione."

"You don't know shit about me and Hermione." Fred smirked. "I'll just go get George for you."

"Fred…I thought…"

"You thought I'd be all for it, right? Because you make him happy and he skips around like he's on cloud-fucking-nine and he flounces like some sort of poof because you've deigned to sleep with him?" Fred glared hotly. "Well, if there's one thing my recent romantic experience has taught me, it's that whatever looks too good to be true, is. And whatever looks like it's worth it? Isn't."

"I have no intention of hurting your brother."

"Right. That's why you don't want anyone to know you're having sex with him. Why you pretend, when you eat dinner in our house, you act like you're just a single guy, making your way through your miserable life all alone."

"Fred, that's enough."

Fred turned and glared at George. "Was anything I said a lie?"

"Was anything you said about me and not about you?" George reached out and touched his brother's arm. "I'll be home late, all right?"

"Sure. Need those defense against the dark arts lessons, right? Tell me, Professor, was it a euphemism back when you were teaching Harry?"

"Fred!" George shoved his brother back, his eyes burning. "You're so far out of line right now, you can't bloody see it." He lowered his voice. "He's not bloody Hermione. And I'm not you."

Fred straightened, his hands clenched into fists. "Lock the door behind you. And don't worry. I won't bother to wait up."

"He doesn't like me much, does he?"

"He does." George shrugged as they walked along Diagon Alley toward The Leaky Cauldron. "He does. He just…well, he doesn't like much of anyone really now. Especially not anyone who might actually be enjoying themselves."

"Ah."

"He was in love."

"Still is, from the sounds of it."

"And you can recognize the sound?" George asked the question tentatively, his gaze on the ground.

"I never denied loving Sirius to you, George."

"I know."

"And I do still love him. He's…ingrained in me. But just because I loved him doesn't mean that I can't find someone else." He shook his head. "Even if they're way too young for me, have no knowledge of the real world and real relationships and I have to pretend I'm giving him lessons to get him alone in a room."

"Are those bad things?"

"Well, the age is a self correcting problem, the lessons are a good cover that has less to do with your age than the fact that I don't need all of Diagon Alley and the Wizarding World to know who I'm with."

"And the knowledge bit?"

"That's self-correcting as well, but not, I'm afraid, in the time frame of our relationship." Remus continued walking, only stopping when he realized George was no longer beside him. He turned and backtracked, stopping in front of the younger man, his gaze questioning. "What is it?"

"Can we…talk? I mean, sit in the bar and talk before…"

"Of course, George."

"It's just, we're always heading straight up to the room, aren't we? And I'm not saying…I want it too, I just…"

Remus reached out quickly and squeezed George's hand. "I'll buy the first round."

"So, er," George sipped his butterbeer and watched as Remus lifted his whiskey glass. "You're still at Grimmauld Place then?"

Remus set down the glass and reached back, scratching the base of his neck, the sound loud in the quiet of the nearly empty bar. "Yes."

"That must be tough."

"Are we to talk about Sirius then?" Remus sighed, lifting his glass and swallowing half of it down.

"Actually," George met his gaze and held it, a sad smile lifting the corner of his lips, "I was referring to the fact that, no matter who you are, it's probably the only place in the world that might be considered as bleak as Azkaban, so it can't be much of a joy to live there. Especially given the prejudices of the house itself."

"Ah."

"Yes," George took a drink then set the bottle down, refusing to look at Remus. "Ah."

"I may," Remus reached out, turning his hand over and leaving it in the middle of the table, palm up, "be slightly touchy when it comes to the subject of Sirius."

"Slightly."

"Er, yes." Remus shrugged and smiled, turning his hand back over as George made no move toward him. "Shall we talk about something less…"

"Dangerous?"

"Volatile."

"Shall we talk about my mum's further attempts to set you up?" George took another drink. "Or has it just been coincidence that Kingsley and a few others that were at the house the other night continue to be invited round for dinner?"

"I don't invite them." Remus sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't do anything with them, other than be as polite as possible." Glancing around quickly at the empty bar, he reached over and touched the back of George's hand lightly. "And, as I recall, I've yet to miss a lesson with you."

"Lesson," George nodded. "We should get on that, eh?"

Remus's gaze was a mixture of uncertainty and relief as George got to his feet and headed toward the dark hallway at the back of the pub. He sighed and stood to follow, slipping along in George's shadow.

George closed the door after Remus walked through it, resting against the solid oak. He tilted his head slightly as Remus took off his robe, draping it over the bed before sitting next to it. "Getting comfortable, Professor?"

Remus raised an eyebrow as he leaned back against the headboard, his relaxed stance belied by the light in his eyes. "I assumed we were in for a vigorous workout, George." His voice was slightly clipped, dangerous. "Given that you actually allowed me in the room without trying to hex me, I thought I'd take advantage of the leeway and actually prepare myself for the task ahead."

"Ah, so we're to study the dangers of the company you keep?"

"The enemy you know, even if you don't know he's the enemy."

"Or she."

Remus nodded, his eyes wary as he stood, wand in hand. "As the case might be."

George nodded and walked to the window, looking down at the darkness of Diagon Alley, the soft glow of gold coming out of the downstairs window blurring on the cobblestones. "You never really know who to trust, do you?"

"Trust is earned," Remus's voice was cool, almost hard. "And often betrayed. In war…"

"All's fair in war, isn't it?" George turned, his wand out, his spell blasted in Remus's direction. The older man dodged the shimmering light, moving quickly off the bed and to his feet.

"Love and war, they say."

"You think," they began walking in opposing arcs, the distance between them never changing, both of their wands practically quivering, "it's because they're really the same. Two people wanting something so badly…"

"Love rarely leaves you gasping your last breath."

"I don't know," George smirked, his eyes bright and hot. "I've heard plenty of people in love gasping quite a bit."

"Are you sure it was love?" Remus lunged, his spell nearly hitting George as he spun out of the way with a soft whoosh of air. "Lovers aren't the only ones gasping for air."

George's hex glanced off of him and Remus stumbled, leaning against the dresser on the far wall of the room as the dizziness threatened to overtake him. "True enough." George smiled and waved his wand, his eyes on Remus's hand as the thick wood of his wand tapped against the dark oak of the drawers. "Enemies. Lovers. Who else, Remus? Who else leaves you gasping?"

Remus's spell was out before George knew what hit him, throwing him hard to the floor. With a short stride, Remus towered over him, his own eyes flashing. "I don't know, George, who do you think?"

Without thinking, George curved one leg around Remus's and, with Quidditch-honed muscles, brought him down to the floor next to him. He straddled the older man and held his arms to the floor, his breath heavy in his chest. "I think there've been plenty, hmmm? I can't believe you were faithful all those twelve years. Can't believe the animal in you stayed caged every night."

"You know nothing about the animal in me," Remus assured him.

"I don't?" George tilted his head. "Seems to me, I've had several occasions to know him rather well." He leaned down, breathing hotly on Remus's skin. "I've had him inside me, haven't I? Had you inside me. Your cock, your teeth sunk into my skin…"

Remus shoved George off of him and pulled away, his eyes flat. "I will not…"

"Do you think I care?" George was on him again, straddling his legs, holding Remus against the edge of the mattress. "I want everything you have to give me. I want everything you're holding back."

"I'm holding nothing back."

"Liar." George bit Remus's lower lip then sucked it into his mouth, his pelvis rocking forward to grind against Remus's. When he pulled back, released him, he could taste the coppery scent of blood in the air.

"What do you want from me?"

"My enemy's enemy is my friend," George purred into Remus's ear, the point of his tongue tracing the edge of it. "What am I to make of my lover's lover?"

"Sirius is dead," Remus reminded him coldly even as George's tongue heated his blood. "You're the one attempting to revive him here." He was about to say more when their combined weights slid the bed from its spot and he tumbled backwards, his head hitting the floor hard. Instinctively, he shoved George and rolled away, getting to his knees. "I'm not interested in this childish one-upsmanship, George. You're shadow-boxing a dead man."

"Are we talking about Sirius again?" George grabbed Remus's wrist and pulled him hard against his chest. "Or you?"

Remus shoved George away and attempted to get to his feet, slamming into the floor once more as George tackled him around the thighs. Remus rolled over, wincing as pain shot through his head, blood trickling from his nose. George's concerned face hovered over him. "Oi, fuck." He attempted to staunch the light flow. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Remus."

Remus's wand was hard between them as he shoved it into George's stomach. "Get off me." George pulled back, his eyes wide as he settled on his knees. Remus wiped his face with the back of his hand, barely giving the spattering of red a glance. "Dead men don't bleed."

George nodded and got to his feet as Remus did, a slow, hungry smile curving his lips. He wrapped one hand in Remus's short hair and pulled him close, exuding heat and promise. "Do they fuck?"

Remus's laugh was whisper-soft. "Not very well."

"Well then," George bit Remus's lip again, licking the sore and swollen flesh, "you're definitely not dead."

Remus grinned against George's mouth and guided the younger man's hand down to his hard, pulsing cock. "Not yet."