"Sardines," said James, at length.

"All right!" crowed Sirius, dropping his quill onto his homework with a splatter of ink.

"What?" said Peter.

"I'll be It," said Remus dryly, not looking up from his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

"Dammit, Moony," Sirius pulled a face, rolling up his Divination scroll halfheartedly. "Last time you were It you just went back to your room and read for three hours. That's no way to play."

"You weren't looking hard enough," Remus pointed out evenly, flipping a page. "It's not called hide-and-give-up."

James, whose own books were long since abandoned, was grinning. "Only 'cause nimble-footed Sirius here tripped over Mrs. Norris in the Hufflepuff Corridor and we had to call it quits." He ducked to avoid an impending blow from his friend, but Sirius was, surprisingly enough, ignoring his taunt. James pushed his glasses further up his nose and blinked.

Dark eyebrows lowered, Sirius was staring at Remus-- the only Marauder not already watching him curiously. "You hide too well," he mumbled, not quite under his breath.

Remus seemed not to notice, though he certainly must have heard.

"What?" said Peter again, looking from one to the other of his friends, bewildered.

"Sardines," Remus clarified, closing his book with a snap, "is a game like hide-and-seek, except that whoever is It does the hiding, rather than the seeking."

"Don't tell me they don't play games in the Pettigrew house, Wormy," James muttered, sidling over and deftly removing the well-stained Potions workbook from Peter's surprised fingers. "We simply won't believe you."

"Rules are," Sirius intoned, not quite smiling, "everybody's who's not It goes to find him." In illustration of his point, he stood and tiptoed exaggeratedly behind Remus, who stiffened just barely, but didn't turn around. "And when they find It, they hide there with him, till eventually everybody--" he leaned over the shorter boy, snatching the textbook triumphantly from his hands-- "is crammed in the one hiding spot." He inclined his head, smiling right into Remus' ear. "Have I got that right?"

"Sounds spot on to me," James beamed, chucking Peter's workbook onto the coffee table. "And whoever's last in the pile has to be It next time."

"So who's It now?" asked Peter nervously. Everyone knew how he hated being the center of attention of any game, no matter which-- the tragic result of a childhood perpetually picked last for the Quidditch team, they supposed. They had never asked.

Remus stood up smoothly, leaving Sirius off-balance behind him. "Sirius was last home, last time."

"Hey!" Sirius spluttered, Remus' textbook joining Peter's, landing heavily on the table. "That's just because James snagged the Cloak and came straight back to the common room-- some of us had to detour all around the castle to avoid a slavering Filch!"

James chuckled into his hand, and even Peter was sniggering.

Sirius' chocolate brown eyes narrowed over Remus' head at James. "I bet Jamie didn't tell you what we were doing, what he did to make me trip over Mrs. Norris--"

James smirked, waggling an eyebrow, as Sirius finally rose to his bait. "Oh, you want me to tell them? That's not what you said--"

Remus raised an eyebrow, interrupting quickly. "But," he said, with an air of finality, turning to face Sirius hovering over his shoulder. "You were last, weren't you?" And he smiled.

Whatever argument or blackmail information Sirius had been about to impart died somewhere beneath his tongue, his throat tight.

"Aw, Padfoot, don't you want to hide?" James was saying, foot on the table, tying his sneakers more tightly.

"Yeah," Peter agreed, trying to straighten the mess of books that was their table. "Sending us all over the place trying to scent you out..." Neither of them was looking at him, or at Remus, perhaps intentionally.

"All right, all right." Sirius moved at last, feeling Remus' eyes still on him. "But no Transfiguration," he wiggled a finger at Peter. "That's cheating. And no Invisibility Cloaks this time, either, you." He reached out a hand to muss James' already overenthusiastic hair, and darted out of the way before James could deck him.

"Settled, then." By the time Remus turned to face the others again, his brief smile had melted away into his usual expression of bemused aggravation.

"And you have to look for me, Moony," Sirius said, his hair falling across his eyes, making his grin look rather ferocious. "Play it right." And making sure the others could see him, he winked broadly.

"I'm not the one who bends the rules," Remus said mildly-- though his ears were turning rather pink-- and shoved him out the portrait hole.

If I were a Sirius, where would I hide? Remus thought idly. He'd just been at the top of the Astronomy Tower, on a whim. Last month, before the Easter holiday, the four of them had spent a week up there, huddled chilly in their sweatshirts at the mercy of the March northwinds, trying to learn their starcharts. For Remus, astronomy had once been a form of self-defense, a carefully constructed wall of knowledge to keep the monster inside... But his friends had listened rapt and wide-eyed while he pointed at the moon, speaking of apogee and perigee, and syzygy, that Peter never could quite wrap his mouth around. And it amazed him that it no longer hurt, that he could stare the moon in the face and laugh, always a pair of warm shoulders on either side of his.

But no luck; tonight the rickety star-gazing benches were empty, and the stars moved overhead in the cloudless sky, unnoticed. It was a first quarter moon, only a week until full. It made his head buzz a little in familiar anticipation, but he ignored it.

Treading back down the tightly-spiraling staircase, he was careful of his footing on the worn-smooth stones. James had slipped here, their last night before the Astronomy exam, giving them all a scare. Remus shivered lightly in the spring evening breeze, remembering Peter's shout and Sirius' lightning-fast reflexes, grabbing James by the elbow and hauling him bodily up a step or two, keeping them all from toppling hair over sneakers down the stairs. And James' uneasy laugh, echoing up the narrow tower, and the way Sirius' hands had lingered--

Remus shook himself. If I were trying to get under James' skin, he tried to imagine he was Sirius, and think as a sneaky Sirius would think, I would hide in the library, since Madam Pince still hasn't quite forgiven him for the incident with Hogwarts, A History, and the not-quite invisible ink. He came to the base of the tower, looking left and right, considering. And if I were trying to annoy Peter-- I would hide in the dungeons, near the Slytherin commons, of course.

And if I were trying to annoy me... he paused, the moonlight dappling cool across his slim shoulders. I'd hide somewhere secretive and titillating. He pursed his lips, though it was not quite annoyance that he felt, hovering on noiseless owlwings in his chest. Like the boys' shower, or-- somebody's bed. He sighed, and set his footsteps back toward the Gryffindor Tower.

"Jolly Roger."

The Fat Lady blinked, looking up from her cup of tea. "What? Oh, yes, that's nice, dear." She swung the portrait open absently, turning back to her friend from the third floor corridor. "As I was saying, you would not believe what that tart had the nerve to tell me--"

Ah well, it would have been cheating to ask the painting if Sirius had come this way, anyway.

If any of his fellow Gryffindors-- of those still awake in the common room, studying or playing Exploding Snap-- thought it strange that he was by himself, and without his usual entourage, they didn't say so. The green-eyed girl who sat beside him in Arithmancy smiled at him as he passed, waving a little shyly. "'Night, Remus," she called after him.

Too distracted to do more than wave back, Remus headed for the stairs. James would have his head if he knew, of course, but Remus really didn't see the need to tell James that his latest crush had wished him a good night. Besides, it might be only fair, should Remus make it upstairs to find that he'd not been the first to find Sirius--

His bedcurtains were closed.

For a moment, he stood in the bedroom doorway, breath coming oddly in a way that had nothing to do with the stairs he had just climbed.

The four-posters of his friends, though, looked undisturbed. James' and Peter's stood close by the door, James' with its usual half-heartedly straightened sheets and piles of WizKid Comics, Peter's ironed pillowcase with his meticulously folded pyjamas beneath. By the window, across from his own bed, Sirius' curtains were drawn, as well. But unlike Sirius, who routinely left his bed unmade and yanked the curtains to in order to disguise that fact, Remus knew that he'd left his own bed customarily tidy that morning.

Wondering why he was holding his breath if he was the one seeking, he moved quietly across the room and drew back his own curtains with one swift motion.

His blankets were all in a pile, quivering with pent-up laughter, and there was a telltale shadow of dark hair against his pillowcase.

"Found you," he said, breathing again, and peering at the lump on the bed and trying to discern if there was only one body hidden there, or two. Or three, but he doubted Peter had caught him already. "Who's here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" his blanket crooned, sheets lunging ungracefully at him like a drunken ghost. "Is that you, Moooony?" Remus sidestepped and yanked the blankets away, smiling placidly down at the familiar brown eyes and-- rather sheepish-- grin.

Hair splayed over Remus' pillow, legs tangled in Remus' sheets, and wearing nothing but his sleeping shorts, Sirius had the grace to look guilty. "Hi," he said, one dark eyebrow twitching a little.

"Gotcha," Remus said mildly, wondering just what it was he had got.

"Geez, uh-- I didn't mean to hide in your bed, Moony, honest I didn't-- man, if you're pissed off you'd have a right to be-- this wasn't my plan, really, but Moaning Myrtle has it in for me, and she burst a pipe when I was trying to stand in the showerstall--"

It came out in a jumbled rush of words, but Remus caught the gist of it easily enough. He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "I was going to try the showers next, Padfoot, so you're doubly caught." He noticed that the sheets were a little damp, and the hair resting against his pillow was, too. He shook his head. "Couldn't you have dried off first? Now my bed is soggy."

Sirius quirked a smile, his eyes dancing. "I was-- looking for some dry socks when I heard someone coming up the stairs, and I made a dash for it." His smile was all beatific innocence now.

"Fair enough." Remus said pleasantly, climbing into bed beside him, drawing the curtains tight behind himself. Barely any light made it through the thick fall of cloth; in spite of the magic-burning lamps in the bedroom, their little space was dusky and dim. "Good and hid. So now we have to wait for the other two to catch on?"

There was a pause, Sirius' dark eyes unreadable in that half-light, Remus drawing his legs up to his chest. "Well," Remus began, not entirely sure what he'd say, lifting his hand to brush his bangs from his eyes.

"Wait." Sirius grabbed Remus' hand mid-motion, and Remus tensed involuntarily within his grasp. But with a wink, Sirius lifted his arm and made a great show of sniffing at the captured wrist.

Remus let himself relax, not about to give Sirius the satisfaction of wriggling under that tickly sensation. The canine sensitivity of Sirius' nose-- even unTransfigured-- was a highly contested point. Remus raised an eyebrow and waited expectantly. "Yes? what do you smell, Sherlock hound?"

Intent on his investigation, Sirius snuffled clear up his arm, his breath maddeningly ticklish in the hollow of Remus' elbow. "You... lemme see. You thought about going down to the kitchens, but decided that that was probably where Jamie was headed."

"That's no great deduction," Remus couldn't quite keep from laughing. Sirius' nose was a little chilly from his inadvertent bath, and his hair was shaggy and damp-- all very much like a healthy puppy dog. "We could all hear James' stomach growling."

Undaunted, Sirius went on, "You... hang on--" It was all Remus could do to hold still, Sirius sniffling away at his shoulder, his hair cool where it trickled against his neck. "--You climbed up the Divination-- wait, no, the Astronomy Tower, and you--" Suddenly he went very still against Remus' throat, his breath coming just a little hard, making Remus' skin quiver. "You got spooked on the stairs on the way down." He tilted up his head, met Remus' eyes. His expression was oddly serious. "Am I right?"

It could have been simple guesswork, could have been a bluff. There was nothing to call, though, if it were the truth. Remus almost closed his eyes as he nodded, though his voice was wry. "Can you smell fear?"

Sirius bit his lip, and released Remus' hand to trace a wondering line along Remus' jaw. "Moony? You mean I am right? You didn't fall--?"

Shaking his head, Remus was just beginning to wonder what else his friend could scent-- when Sirius laughed out loud and the moment evaporated. "'Course you were scared, on the steps without me there to catch you!" He threw an arm around Remus' shoulders, undisguised protectiveness. "You all in one piece? Nothing that needs mending?" Remus could not defend himself from all angles at once, and Sirius was suddenly all seeking hands and ticklish fingertips. Eyes laughing, Sirius managed to bear-hug Remus down to the mattress with him.

Padfoot was a big dog, and Remus the wolf had grown accustomed to the bump of heads, the slide of fur, baring his teeth in a canine smile against his friend's neck. So it didn't seem too strange, drawing up the blankets and sharing bodyheat, laughing breathless in the close air behind the bedcurtains. They were still hiding, after all, of course they'd be a little anxious. And this was familiar, his head nestled under Sirius', feeling the other's breath ruffling his hair. Remus sighed, trying not to remember the cool unselfconscious brush of Sirius' blunt fingers against his face, and not succeeding.

The silence, when it fell, was heavy and dim like the shadows. They didn't look at each other, lying side by side, and so close they practically shared a heartbeat. Remus thought he could feel the pull of the moon outside their window, that first quarter moon, straining towards full. He cleared his throat. "Who d'you think will find us first?"

"Hm?" Sirius sounded as if he'd been pulled from deep thought. "Oh, right." Absently, his hands fiddled with a lock of Remus' hair, twirling it between his fingers. "Jamie, I'd reckon. I'm not sure Peter's got the hang of us yet."

Remus considered, as rationally as he could, considering Sirius' hands had moved to his scalp, scratching him idly behind the ears. "But James might have gotten sidetracked, if he did wind up in the kitchens." He buried his nose against Sirius' neck, nuzzling instinctively. Damn, but that felt nice. There was much to be said for canine affection--

He realized slowly that his own hand was lying across Sirius' waist, shaping circles against his lower back, moving in time. Sirius might have noticed it at the same instant, for he hummed in the back of his throat, tossing his hair like a sleepy contented dog. "Mmm, Moony. Such nice hands."

Thus coaxed, he sidled a little closer and brought his hands up flat against Sirius' back, rubbing in earnest, enjoying the pull and shiver of each long muscle beneath his palms. When Remus found a particularly taut stretch and leaned in to knead it loose, the noise Sirius made was most encouraging.

"Like that?"

"Mmhmm." It was not a murmur, but a coherent affirmative.

Only then did Remus lift his head from Sirius' chest, to realize that Sirius was watching him, and probably had been for quite some time. Suddenly he didn't seem quite so innocuously canine anymore. Though Remus did not pride himself on his senses, twenty-eight days out of the month, the air was rich with something that prickled the back of his throat, making the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He found himself wishing he were a wolf tonight, to run shoulder to shoulder with him and not to think.

Belatedly, he slid back on the sheets, to put a distance between them, only to discover that Sirius' hands were firmly on his shoulders.

"You hide too well," Sirius whispered, his eyes downcast, his voice as dark as his ebony hair.

Remus blinked. "So you said," he said, evenly.

It was Sirius' turn to pause. "I thought you didn't hear me," he said eventually. He still did not meet his eyes.

Saying more than he trusted words to convey, Remus whispered, "I always listen to you, Sirius."

The answering smile was lopsided, and it occurred to Remus then that Sirius was staring at his neck, that his shirt had slipped a little down his shoulder, and his scar must have been visible. "Right," Sirius didn't sound convinced, though he lifted his hands, allowing Remus the space, should he want to scoot away. "'Cause I'm always talking, aren't I?"

Remus, not moving, might have mustered a half-hearted disagreement-- had Sirius not touched a tentative finger to the moon-shaped scar. Sensation blossomed instantly, curling tendrils of heat moving up his throat, the magic-wound tingling beneath the foreign touch. He hissed involuntarily, mouth open in an unconscious wolfish gesture of submission.

Sirius couldn't have known that, but he withdrew his hand immediately. "Does it hurt?" he asked, and Remus could have laughed, were it not for the panicked look on his friend's face.

"Not pain," he managed. "It is not-- a normal scar."

Lips twisted in an ironic grin, Sirius still looked a little shaken. "So I can touch it?"

Remus half-closed his eyes, remembering that sweet uncoiling of warmth that spread under such a simple contact. "I'm not sure you should."

"You always make it so difficult," Sirius snapped, his nerves fraying. They were as close as they could be, without touching, and the space between them was nearly electric. "Either you want it or you don't."

Remus closed his eyes, wishing for the cool silver wash of moonlight over his eyelids, for the release of transformation. "It's never so simple, Sirius," he said, knowing that the other boy might never understand.

"Then teach me," Sirius insisted, nearly erupting from the blankets to lean over him, nose to nose, "show me how-- how to touch you."

Perhaps this was something simpler even than transformation. Sirius did not move, hovering thus over him, and it was Remus who lifted his neck, offering up his skin to the waiting mouth above him. If Sirius were surprised he didn't show it, and his lips were hungry and curious against the crescent blush of the scar.

Now Remus was the one unmoving, though he thought he might dissolve, staying obediently still-- until Sirius kissed a comet-trail up his throat and their mouths met.

It was the heady song of the full moon, without the pain; the heavy spin of stars without the weariness. He raised himself up into Sirius' waiting heat, kissing up at him almost desperately.

"I know I'm dense, Moony," Sirius panted, grinning, his eyes bright with dogstar heat. "But this is something I understand."

And Remus didn't ask, blindly grateful for knowing hands slipping his shirt over his head, the scar no longer a secret to be kept hidden. "You'd make-- star marks in it, I'm sure," he breathed, and when Sirius laughed, Remus caught him off balance and pinned him down, kissing him hard. Sirius didn't fight it, his hands circling Remus' waist and coaxing him further into his lap, to rest heavily against his hips, sex brushing greedy sex. He gasped into Sirius' mouth, and thought that it might not be so hard to be himself, after all.

He shimmied out of his remaining clothes, ignoring Sirius' chuckle at his eagerness. "That's no way to play hide-and-seek, Moony, if you don't even hide--"

"Hush, you, or I won't help you out of your shorts," Remus said, in the process of doing just that, anyway. Sirius pulled him down close and laughed breathlessly against his ear, speaking words with his fingertips instead of his voice.

It was a simple rhythm, like adolescent puppies at play, like the waxing and waning of the moon-- leaning urgently into each other, hips rocking, fingers caressing and pulling and coaxing... Remus could almost pretend they were on a moonlight run alone, rolling in the heather, the giddy scent of crushed grass and adrenaline chasing through their veins--

But no, Sirius was all skin, smooth and mellow sun-dark from all his afternoons of Quidditch practice, and Remus' exploring hands stood out in pale relief against him. And his eyes were human eyes-- Sirius never stopped staring at him, his gaze as hungry as his clever fingers. Knowing he was being watched, feeling those star-bright eyes along his hips and waist and belly, Remus felt the sweet slow unfurling of a magnificent sort of heat, spinning deliriously through him. Sirius beneath him was coaxing, swearing, panting encouragement, and Remus watched the pulse in his throat, felt it throb in time with the pulse between his thighs.

When Sirius came, he closed his eyes and tossed his head, his hands still moving between them as he spilled himself, hot and helpless.

And it came as a surprise, all in a rush, that Remus followed him-- the moon in its apogee, the height of his orbit careening through the galaxy, he thought he was calling his name--

Sirius was laughing, his eyes closed on the pillow, looking pleased with himself.

Levering himself up from where he had collapsed on top of the other boy, Remus looked down ruefully. "We've made a mess."

Dramatically cleaning himself off with a corner of the sheet, Sirius said, "All part of the show, y'know. I--" he cut off, making an unintelligible noise. His broad hands traced the boycurve of one hip, wincing through his teeth. "Damn, Moony, that looks like it hurt."

Remus said nothing, letting him find the scars on his body, one by one, letting him see the past that he would never speak in words.

Sirius traced the faded wounds like constellations, mapping the stars on his new lover's thighs. "Remus--"

"I told you to hush!" James' voice. They both froze.

"But you said they'd be in here," Peter, protesting.

The broad hand on Remus' knee was heavy, Sirius tensing beneath him. He held his breath, ducking self-consciously, mouth pressed into Sirius' collarbone. Neither dared make a sound-- they were caught.

"Yes," James hissed, dousing the lights with a murmured word. "And if you have any sense at all you'd realize they're sleeping. And so should you be!" The sound of a well-aimed pillow hitting a retreating back, Peter's breathy, "Oh!," and their two roommates scuffled into silence.

For a long, long moment, neither moved, Remus' eyes wide in the sudden darkness.

Then he swiveled in the other boy's arms, rounding on him. "You--"

"I had nothing to do with it! Honest!" Sirius' whisper was almost a yelp, as Remus did inciteful things with his teeth, breathing against Sirius' navel.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Remus said, sing-song, murmuring to the sensitive skin of Sirius' sides.

"Moony, that tickles," he moaned, hips arching upward. "Keep that up and you'll give us awa-- Remus!"

Remus laughed out loud, not bothering to muffle the sound in his pillow. "Well," he said, "you found me."