“What do you think?” Remus asked Sirius.

    Sirius looked around without stepping the whole way in the gate, his gaze running over an overgrown lawn, a cottage that looked as if ivy was the only thing holding it up, and a path that was more grass than stone. He sniffed the air.

    “It looks like it could fall down at any moment,” Sirius finally said. “The first time you transform, it’ll probably disintegrate!”

    “I know it needs a bit of work,” Remus sighed. Sirius snorted. “But it’s two miles to the nearest neighbor. I’ll be safe here. Besides,” Remus seemed to shake off his momentary melancholy, “there’s woods back there. Miles of woods.”

    Sirius tried to affect disinterest, but Remus could almost see his ears perk up.

    “Nothing but trees as far as the eye can see,” Remus continued, starting to grin mischievously. “Just think of all those leaves to jump through…dead things to roll in…”

    “All RIGHT!” Sirius cut him off abruptly, laughing. “You win, I love it, okay?!”

    “If only I’d figured out Third Year that all it took to make you happy was something smelly to rub yourself on,” Remus shook his head in mock-disgust.

    “I thought you had figured it out,” Sirius sniffed as though he were mortally offended. “If that cologne you wore to our first Yule Ball was any indication…”

    “Oh, just get in here,” Remus pushed Sirius through the gate. “Let’s see what the inside of this place looks like.”

    “Death trap,” Sirius muttered.

    “SECLUDED COTTAGE,” Remus drowned him out loudly.

    The inside of the house turned out to be a little more livable than the outside suggested. The previous owner had left some sturdy furniture, a table, some chairs, and a bed that seemed to currently be the home to a dozen or so mice.

    “Too bad McGonagall isn’t here,” Sirius snickered, and Remus punched his arm.

    “One animagus at a time, please,” he rolled his eyes. “The bed frame looks all right, but the mice have to go. Help me carry this mattress outside.”

    They carried the mattress out the back door and dropped it in the jungle-like garden that sloped down a short hill into the promised woods.

    Sirius stared at the deep shade of the trees, captivated as he imagined the nights Padfoot and Moony would run there. He lifted his head and sniffed again, closing his eyes and breathing in the cool scents of greenery and shadows.

    He felt Remus slide a hand through his and twine their fingers together.

    “What do you think now?” he asked, humor evident in his voice. Sirius raised an eyebrow in response, snorting a soft whuff of capitulation.

    “Oh, go ahead and try it out, I know you’re dying to,” Remus laughed, ruffling Sirius’ longish hair. “Padfoot deserves a good run.”

    “I’ll try not to roll in anything too smelly,” Sirius promised, leaning down to kiss Remus in gratitude. “I won’t be long.” Sirius bumped noses with Remus and reached up to twirl a strand of his hair.

    “Go on then,” Remus, pushed him towards the woods, grinning. “Before you start something we don’t have time to finish.”

    Sirius flashed him a broad grin, then suddenly in his place stood a huge black dog sporting an identical grin. Padfoot woofed another loud thanks and licked Remus’ hand before bounding off towards the woods, sniffing everything in sight.

    Remus wiped his hand off on his trousers, wishing his own transformations were as easy or as carefree. Wishing he could run through sun-drenched trees with Padfoot.

    As Remus turned to go back into the cottage, he comforted himself with thoughts of the wolf running in the moonlight with Padfoot. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but he was a long way away from the dread that used to choke him at the mere thought of a full moon.

    Remus found a broom in the corner of what he thought could have been the kitchen, and began sweeping out the leaves and dust and mouse bits that had collected on the floor since the cottage was last used. He was pushing his pile out the front door when someone halloed him from down the path.

    Surprised, Remus shielded his eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun to see a wizened old man approaching his front door.

    “You must be the young fellow who’s bought the Manor,” the man said.

    “Er, yes,” Remus answered, leaning his broom against the house and offering his hand to shake. “The Manor?”

    “That’s what the last person who lived here called it,” the man explained. “It was something of a joke round these parts.”

    “Are you my neighbor?” Remus asked, keeping his concern masked with polite neutrality.

    “One might say that,” the man shrugged. “I live up the road a couple miles or more.”

    Relieved, Remus opened his mouth to reply, but just then Padfoot came bounding around the side of the house and up to Remus. He sat down next to Remus, panting heavily, and leaned against him hard enough to almost knock him down.

    “This’un yours?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

    “I don’t know about that,” Remus said wryly, “but he does tend to follow me wherever I go.”

    Padfoot barked in reproach and Remus scratched his ears soothingly.

    “Might be good to have a friend fierce as that stay with you at the Manor,” the man said, offering his hand for Padfoot to sniff.

    “Why do you say that?” Remus asked.

    “It might be only rumor,” the man looked a little embarrassed, “before my time, you know, but folk in these parts say the last owner disappeared under mysterious circumstances.”

    Remus cocked his head with interest, and felt Padfoot do the same thing.

    “There’s naught who know what really happened,” the man continued, “but some say there’s strange howling and banging about from inside this place late at night. Locals won’t go near it after dark.”

    Remus was silent, but relief washed through him. He wouldn’t endanger anyone here when he transformed. He was safe here.

    “Anyways,” the man said with false cheer, evidently mistaking Remus’ silence for discomfort, “I’d best be on my way. Good luck with the Manor.”

    Remus watched the man go, still scratching Padfoot’s ears, and when he was out of sight, Remus looked down to see Sirius leaning against his leg. Sirius sighed happily as Remus tangled fingers in his thick hair.

    “Howling and banging in the middle of the night?” Remus said, bemused.

    “Feels like home already,” Sirius opened one eye and grinned up at Remus.

    “Come on,” Remus sighed after a minute. “ Our lunch hours almost up, Dumbledore expects us back.”

    Sirius climbed to his feet with a sigh, casting a longing glance back towards the woods.

    “I can’t wait until you can run with me,” he said wistfully. Remus was painfully aware that Sirius’ expression of frustration was echoed loudly on his own.

    “Sirius,” he said quietly, “if I had the power, I would tear off all my clothes right now and transform, and spend all afternoon and all night running through trees and rolling in dead things with you, just to see your exhausted, muddy, blissed-out hide crawl into my bed tomorrow morning.”

    Sirius stared at Remus wordlessly for a long minute, mouth parted slightly and eyes intense.

    “DAMN!” he finally roared. “You ALWAYS do this to me! Right before we have to Apparate back to work, you ALWAYS come up with some way to give me an ENORMOUS STIFFY!”

    “It’s not too hard, you must admit,” Remus replied, laughing freely.

    “You’ll pay for it this time!” Sirius shouted, tackling a still-snickering Remus to the ground. They wrestled good-naturedly for several minutes, until an out-of-breath Remus came up on top and pinned Sirius to the ground by his wrists.

    “I win!” he gasped, leaning down for his victory snog. He rolled off of Sirius despite some desperate protesting and held out a hand.

    “Come on, we really have to go now,” he told Sirius. Grumbling, Sirius took his hand and hefted himself back onto his feet. He glanced down at Remus’ trousers and grinned ferally.

    “You have grass-stained knees,” he leered. “They’re going to want to know what you’ve been up to on your lunch hour.”

    “Well,” Remus leaned to glance at Sirius’ backside with a smirk of his own, “you’ve got a grass-stained arse, so there!”

    Remus disappeared with a small pop while Sirius was attempting to twist around and see for himself.

    “Bloody werewolf,” he growled good-naturedly when he saw Remus was already gone. He mumbled something else before he too Apparated.

    Something about revenge and illegal desk rogerings.

    *        *        *        *        *        *   

    “I’m leaving!” Sirius called into the office on the way by.

    “Wait a moment, you!” Remus shouted back, peering over a stack of paperwork. Sirius reluctantly backpedaled and leaned in doorway, clearly ready to make his escape at any moment.

    “Yes?” he asked innocently.

    “Where are you off to so fast?” Remus inquired.

    “Just ready to go, that’s all,” Sirius answered blithely.

    “I thought you were going to wait for me.” Remus cursed internally as the spoken words sounded a hell of a lot more needy than the mental ones. Sirius’ face softened slightly and he actually stepped into the office the whole way.

    “It’s a surprise,” he told Remus.

    “Oh?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

    “You’ll like it, I swear,” Sirius said, shuffling his feet with impatience, but clearly unwilling to give up his secret yet.

    Remus sighed, reflecting how he had told Sirius repeatedly that the day of the full moon was no time to toy with werewolves about surprises.

    “All right,” he finally said reluctantly. “Go ahead if it’s so important.”

    Sirius’ face flooded with a relieved grin and Remus couldn’t help but smile a little at his childishness.

    “Trust me, Moony,” Sirius told him. He made for the door, but stopped halfway through. “Don’t bother with the flat either,” he said quickly, as though he were already giving up too much, “just come straight to the Manor.”

    Sirius disappeared while Remus was still opening his mouth to ask him more questions. Shaking his head, Remus turned back to the paperwork, now thoroughly distracted.

    The last hour ticked by slowly, but finally Remus had enough work done to feel like he could spend the next day recovering from his transformation without the office grinding to a halt. He straightened up his desk quickly and stood up, taking out his wand.

    When Remus appeared in the front room of the Manor with a pop, he looked around in confusion for a few moments, sure he was in the wrong place. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and the furniture had been arranged rather than being strewn about. A shabby but comfortable-looking couch had appeared as well. Remus looked down and saw a thick throw rug underneath his feet.

    “Surprise,” Sirius said softly behind him. Remus turned with a warm smile.

    “This is wonderful, Padfoot,” he replied, sitting down his briefcase. “When did you have time to do this?”

    “I did it bits at a time,” Sirius told him proudly. “James and Peter helped some too. They said I had no talent for arranging furniture. Or matching colors. Or, you know, anything.”

    Remus barked out a laugh and reached out to hug Sirius tightly.

    “It’s perfect,” he sighed into Sirius’ hair. “Especially this rug. I’m almost looking forward to waking up on it.”

    “It’s really comfortable,” Sirius informed him, nuzzling his neck. “Although the sales lady seemed a bit put out when I tried it out.”

    Remus laughed throatily and pushed Sirius away gently.

    “You shouldn’t tempt the wolf this close to the moon,” he admonished, only half-kidding.

    “I like the wolf,” Sirius replied firmly, eyes gone a bit dark. Remus shook off the slight shudder that ran through him and suppressed the growl rising in his throat.

    “You know we don’t have time for that,” he reproached Sirius when he could speak normally again.

    “Oh, all right,” Sirius took Remus’ hand and pulled him towards the kitchen. “You have too much control, if you ask me, Moony.”

    “I don’t have near enough when it comes to you,” Remus replied wryly.

    Over years of experience, Remus had learned that transforming on a full stomach was bad, but transforming on an empty stomach was much worse. The trick, Remus knew, was to hope for the best and eat something that wouldn’t tear up his throat on the way back out. Sirius seemed to have remembered this lesson, even though he had never independently recalled a birthday or anniversary in his entire life, and had made tea and stew.

    Or maybe that’s just all he can cook, Remus mused as he accepted a mug and a bowl from Sirius.

    “What are you smiling about?” Sirius asked, eyes still a little dark, but begging to be let in on the joke.

    “I was going to thank you for remembering that this is about all I should eat,” Remus gave in easily under Sirius’ gaze, “but then I recalled that this is the extent of your culinary capabilities.”

    “Some thanks this is,” Sirius snorted, feigning hurt. “I spent all half-hour slaving over a magical pot…”

    Remus threw his head back and laughed, and he felt Sirius nudge his foot under the table. He returned the kick playfully, but a glance out at the impending twilight forced them both to return to eating.

    “Good enough?” Sirius asked when Remus had finished eating and was sipping his tea.

    “More than,” Remus smiled gratefully up at Sirius as he stood and picked up Remus’ bowl. Sirius put both their bowls on the counter and pulled out his wand.

    “Scourgify,” he told the bowls, then turned back around to throw one hip onto the table and looked down at Remus searchingly.

    “How do you feel?” he asked.

    “Itchy,” Remus replied ruefully. “Too warm and oversensitive. Ready to throw you to the ground and chew on you.” Sirius let out a throaty chuckle as he saw the heat Remus was fighting so hard flare up in his eyes.

    “We probably have enough time for chewing,” Sirius murmured, reaching over to brush hand across Remus’ cheek. “But none of the good stuff.”

    A soft growl did escape Remus’ throat this time, and he rubbed his face against Sirius’ palm greedily before reluctantly pulling away. Sirius tugged a strand of his hair before dropping his hand.

    “It’s so wrong that tomorrow morning there’s no way I’ll be up for sex,” Remus sighed sharply.

    “We’re taking half-days next month,” Sirius informed him. “We’re going to shag until you’re too tired to transform.”

    “Now there’s a cure worth trying,” Remus snorted, but knew better than to meet Sirius’ eyes after a joke like that. They might just end up on the floor after all. “I can just see you explaining to Dumbledore what we needed half a day off for.”

    They both laughed that time, the humor taking the edge off the wolf’s hunger.

    “It’s good to see you laugh before,” Sirius had suddenly turned serious. “I thought it would be harder without James and Peter.”

    “I feel safe out here,” Remus shrugged. “Knowing there’s no one for me to hurt takes a lot of the pressure off. And you’re here.”

    “This isn’t the wolf’s territory,” Sirius replied. “I thought it might be worse. I thought we might need Prongs especially. Not that I mind having you all to myself.”

    This time, Remus did look up and knew immediately that it was a mistake. He was standing up before he could stop himself and pressed against Sirius.

    Unprepared, Sirius nearly toppled off the table at first, but then slid up on it the whole way and pulled Remus in close between his dangling legs. He hissed out a breath as Remus ran a rough tongue over his throat and tangled his hands in Remus’ hair. A gasp tore out of his mouth when Remus bit down roughly, not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely leaving a mark.

    Through a haze of desire, Sirius reflected that Remus losing control had to be the biggest turn-on ever. Ten seconds like this was worth a thousand Celina-Warbeck-in-the-shower fantasies.

    Sirius jerked Remus’ head up by his hiar to kiss him fiercely, and Remus fought back hungrily, grazing Sirius’ lower lip with teeth that seemed slightly too sharp.

    That brought Sirius back to his senses abruptly and he pushed Remus away jerkily, struggling for air. Remus bumped into the counter behind him and gripped it for support as his chest heaved.

    “Almost time,” Sirius rasped unnecessarily. Remus, who had closed his eyes, nodded slightly, his knuckles turning white from his tightening grip.

    To prevent anymore incidents, Sirius transformed into Padfoot before approaching Remus, knowing the werewolf ought to get outside before the actual transformation started. He padded over and nosed one of Remus’ hands. Remus’ hand let go of the counter and took ahold of Padfoot’s thick ruff, fingers tangling in the dark fur that was so much like Sirius’ hair.

    Remus opened his eyes slowly and allowed Padfoot to lead him impatiently outside. They had picked a spot earlier that was open enough for Remus to transform but had the cover of forest just in case someone happened to be near.

    Tight waves of nausea had already begun to wash over Remus when they reached the clearing and Remus fell to his knees. He could barely fumble his robes off around the trembling that had overtaken him, and Padfoot tried to help by taking a sleeve in his teeth and tugging gently. When he had got the robes off, Padfoot licked his face, whining softly, then retreated to a safe distance until the transformation was over, taking the robes along with him.

    The forest seemed to spin around Remus, and he curled in on himself even tighter, a sharp keening noise beginning to slip out of his throat. Distantly, he heard Padfoot bark worried reassurance, and then the wolf woke.

    The unfamiliar scents and sounds of the forest assailed Remus’ newly sharp senses, almost a painful as the stretching and reforming of his muscles and bones and he cried out louder, the call ending in a howl as his throat finished changing. Then the pain was too much and Remus slipped under entirely, leaving only the wolf.

    The wolf shook himself all over to rid itself of the itchiness of growing a full fur coat in a few minutes and let out an ear-splitting howl. The wolf did not recognize this place, this was not his range, and he sniffed the air, eyes darting back and forth and fur bristling on end.

    Padfoot barked again, several short bursts of greeting and trotted out into the clearing, letting the wolf scent him without getting too close. The wolf growled loud warning when he saw the huge dog, but the growl died down when he caught Padfoot’s scent.

    Pack. Others?

    The wolf glanced around the clearing more carefully and Padfoot sensed he was searching for the others, for Wormtail and Prongs. He whined out a negative and took a few steps closer.

    Only me, the whine said. The wolf seemed to settle down, though Padfoot could sense its unease at the pack not being full. The wolf let out another howl, longer this time, and Padfoot came to sit down beside it, joining the howl.

    When the wolf finally seemed to accept that no other pack members would come, he turned to Padfoot and nipped at his neck ruff, re-asserting his dominance. Padfoot dropped to his belly and nosed the wolf’s foot submissively, but his tail wagged fiercely. When the wolf stood and began to move out of the clearly, Padfoot leapt to his feet and bounded alongside, yipping loud encouragement for the wolf to play.

    When Padfoot took off through the trees, the wolf followed, barking joyfully.

    *        *        *        *        *        *

    Remus came to on the throw rug, which was just as comfortable as Sirius had promised. Or maybe that was the blanket of black fur that was curled around him.

    “Morning,” he croaked, throat raw from howling and barking. He ran a shaky hand through the fur nearest it, and a dark eye cracked open. Remus closed his eyes, feeling the warm tingle of magic being done against his skin, and then felt skin rub against him instead of fur. He pried open his eyelids to find himself hopelessly tangled with Sirius, equally unwilling and unable to move.

    Sirius disentangled himself enough to stretch, and Remus enjoyed the performance aesthetically, even if he was too physically tired to respond. Sirius crawled to his feet and used a nearby chair to help him stand. When he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t trip over his own feet, he bent down to coax Remus up.

    “Come on,” he urged. “We need to get you to bed.”

    Remus moaned softly for Sirius to go away and let him go back to sleep, but Sirius continued to pull on him gently until he weakly struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on Sirius. They shuffled the dozen or so steps to the bedroom with agonizing slowness and Remus was too relieved when he finally could sink down on the bed to appreciate the interior decorating as he had in the front room.

    Sirius disappeared for a minute, but reappeared before Remus could get up the strength to call out a question, holding his wand. He sat down on the bed beside Remus and ran his fingers over Remus’ chest. Remus glanced down idly to notice the scrapes and bruises that usually came after a full moon. They began to sting dully as Remus noticed them.

    “Not too bad this time,” Sirius reassured. “Just don’t want you bleeding on the new sheets.”

    Remus smiled wanly and closed his eyes. He felt Sirius’ probing fingers brush against the cuts, felt the brief sting and then soothing warmth of healing spells take away the more serious wounds and several of the bruises. He felt Sirius slide into bed alongside him and wrap strong arms around his chest, felt the tickle of hair against his cheek, and then slipped into sleep.

    *        *        *        *        *        *

    Remus judged that it was early afternoon when he woke the second time, from the sunlight slanting into the windows. He still felt weak and exhausted, but the nausea had faded and none of the cuts left were bothering him, although he did ache just about everywhere.

    A soft sigh beside him drew his attention to Sirius, who was still sleeping. He turned his head slightly to kiss Sirius’ forehead, reaching over with a still-unsteady hand to brush some of the longish hair out of Sirius’ face.

    He needs a haircut, Remus thought lightly as he let his fingertips trail weakly through the hair. He paused, puzzled, when his fingers reached Sirius’ neck and found a purple spot roughly the diameter of a small nectarine, then colored slightly as he recalled the scene from the kitchen yesterday. He probed the spot gently and Sirius stirred.

    “Wazzat?” he murmured, opening his eyes about halfway.

    “I left quite a mark,” Remus said, voice still a little rough. Sirius smiled a little as he reached up to feel the spot for himself, fingers brushing against Remus’.

    “Wolf nipped m’too,” Sirius sighed sleepily. He moved over slightly to lay closer against Remus and laid his head on Remus’ shoulder.

    “Sorry,” Remus apologized idly, feeling a twinge of guilt for the wolf’s actions.

    “Told you,” Sirius had woken up a little more, “I LIKE the wolf.”

    Remus shivered a little as their almost-fuck from the night before ran through his mind more powerfully.

    “Stop being such a turn-on,” Remus grumbled. “I’m too tired.”

    “You are not,” Sirius replied playfully, tilting his head up to kiss Remus neck softly, “or you wouldn’t be turned on in the first place. Besides, you’ve just slept for hours.”

    “That whole turning-into-a-dark-creature thing does tend to take it out of me, “ Remus reminded him dryly.

    “If you’re making jokes, you’re alive enough for sex,” Sirius shot back easily, starting to draw little circles on Remus’ stomach with fingertips. Remus made a soft noise; Sirius knew that always drove him crazy, tired or not.

    “You’re too tired too, so stop teasing,” Remus told Sirius, laying a hand over the tickling fingers and bending his head kiss Sirius softly. Sirius gave up with a sigh and kissed him back, the offending hair coming up to slip through Remus hair.

    The slow kiss continued for several minutes, until Remus couldn’t keep his head up anymore and Sirius laid his back down on Remus’ chest.

    “So now that we’ve christened the place, I guess we need to name it,” he said to Remus idly. Remus nearly commented that they hadn’t really christened it properly yet, but cut himself off before he said the words, knowing exactly where that challenge would lead.

    “It has a name,” he said instead. “The Manor.”

    “That’s a stupid name,” Sirius said derisively. “It’s something my parents would have named a cabin in the woods, as if giving it some pretentious name would make it better.”

    “What do you want to call it?” Remus asked, rather than get into some argument about Sirius’ awful family.

    “What about the Lair?” Sirius said. “Wolves have lairs, don’t they?”

    “That sounds absolutely sinister!” Remus laughed.

    “Lupin Lair,” Sirius continued. “It has a ring to it, I think.”

    “Don’t call it Lupin anything,” Remus said. “It’s just as much yours as mine, more probably, you paid for it.”

    “I could be a Lupin,” Sirius responded.

    There was a long silence. It seemed to Remus that Sirius must have been able to hear his heart pounding.

    “Do you want to be a Lupin?” he finally asked.

    “Well,” Sirius responded, “I’m hardly going to ask you to be a Black, am I?”

    “I suppose not,” Remus said faintly, wondering if they were having a serious conversation or not. There was another short silence.

    “It seems to me,” Sirius said abruptly, “that there are a lot of times lately when I’ve got a little Lupin in me.”

    After a moment of stunned silence, Remus broke the spell by laughing until it hurt. Sirius laughed too, gathering the achy werewolf back into his arms and hugging him even more breathless. They ended up nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes, Remus’ mouth still twitching, threatening to spill out more laughter at any moment.

    “You can be a Lupin if you want,” he told Sirius, fighting to keep his voice even in what he thought ought to be a serious moment. He ordered himself not to giggle as the old joke made itself in his head.

    “I do want,” Sirius grinned, lighting up his whole face and reaching deep into his eyes. “I want very, very much.”

    Sirius kissed Remus hard and Remus couldn’t help but respond. He forgot that he was tired and achy and injured and that he was a werewolf and what was his name again? Sirius’ too-long hair brushed the sides of his face and his tongue brushed Remus’ and his burning hands pressed into Remus’ back, and they made concentrating on anything else impossible.

    Sirius suddenly broke the kiss with a gasp of pain and slid off Remus to rub his side.

    “I think your body is calling for a mutiny,” Remus laughed breathily, reaching over to help Sirius massage the tortured muscle.

    “Later,” Sirius told him, the heat and promise in his word nearly rubbing against Remus.

    “Later,” he agreed, sinking back down into his pillows and pulling Sirius back to lay on his chest again. “And we still haven’t decided on a name.”

    “What are those things Muggles stay in?” Sirius asked thoughtfully. Remus snickered, knowing that the answer could be anything from huts to space stations.

    “Be a bit more specific,” he prompted.

    “You know, in the mountains,” Sirius said. “They have fireplaces…and animal skins on the floor…they do that sport with the poles and the silly shoes?”

    “Skiing!” Remus exclaimed, finally catching on. “You’re talking about a Ski Lodge.”

    “Yes!” Sirius replied enthusiastically. “What about Lupin Lodge?”

    “It’s better than Lupin Lair,” Remus rolled his eyes. He said the name in his head a few times. “Lupin Lodge. I think I like it.”

    “Only one thing left to do then,” Sirius said, the grin audible in his voice.

    “Christening later,” Remus reminded him, stifling a yawn. “Sleep now.”

    Sirius sighed out a half-hearted protest, but was already snuggling comfortably next to Remus, sprawling an arm across his chest as if he expected Remus to try and get away after he’d fallen asleep.  Remus rubbed a cheek against the top of Sirius’ head and let a contented breath out through his nose, allowing the relief of another full moon past soothe him.

    He was safe in his bed with Sirius. That alone made Lupin Lodge home.