Debussy, thought Remus, clearly did not intend for yells to punctuate his Nocturnes. For a few seconds, he tried to ignore the ranting and concentrated fully on the quiet tinkling of the piano keys. He wasn't rewarded with silence. Unless he took it upon himself to stop the noise, it would only be a minute until the late Mrs. Black joined the cacophony and thoroughly ruined his music. He sighed, lifted the needle on the record player, and went off to investigate.

The source of this blatant disrespect was sitting at the dining room table, the Evening Prophet laid out in front of him. "It's wrong!" he said, banging his fist on the table, his coffee mug moving dangerously closer to the edge. "It's so fucking wrong! I've got half a mind to Apparate over to the headquarters and give them a piece of my mind." "I'd like to see you try. It would certainly be amusing for about two minutes, before an army of Aurors comes to apprehend you."

"Why not? They all think I'm in bloody Tahiti, anyway. Load of reporter scum�" "Sirius, if the Prophet offends you so, I suggest that you don't read it."

"For the Order. Only thing Dumbledore'll let me do, skim this worthless rag for any 'clues between the lines.' I don't see any fucking clues, just this rubbish about 'new de-gnoming methods for my garden.' Great lot of help that is, unless they think I'm planting tomatoes in the middle of London. Indoors." He let out a derisive bark. "And then there's this about Harry." Remus did not respond, but leaned over to read the offending article.

Sirius had made a bit of a misstatement; the article was not about Harry at all. In fact, it was a review of the latest instalment in a comic book series, and mentioned his godson only in passing:

�The antics of the popular 'Mad Muggle' are hilarious and unbelievable enough to give even Harry Potter a run for his money. Martin Miggs #58 can be purchased at your local Wizarding newsstand next Tuesday."

Remus almost laughed at how anti-climatic it was, but looking at Sirius's face, he thought better of it. "Sirius. Dumbledore knows the truth, I know the truth, and you know the truth. Eventually something will happen, and the rest of them won't be able to deny it any longer. For now, we'll have to be satisfied knowing that we're right." He took a chair beside Sirius and began to stroke his hair. "You just have to be patient until Fudge acknowledges his mistake."

"Fudge? Admit that he's wrong? I didn't think that was possible. I'll be sitting here, alone and 'patient' until the day that I die."

Remus stopped his lazy caress to hold Sirus's hand. "Patient, maybe. But not alone." He leaned in and brushed Sirius's lips. Sirius used his free hand to grasp Remus's waist and draw him into a deeper kiss, flirting lightly with his tongue, while the taller man gripped his hair. They spent a few minutes there, in each others' embrace, until Sirius finally drew back and rested his head on his lover's shoulder, finally calm again, and broke their beautiful silence. "So what did you come over here for, anyway?"

"You were disturbing my music. I came to lecture you until you were properly ashamed."

"The phony-graph again? Moony, darling, you love that thing far too much." His face glowed with the laughter he was trying to keep in. Remus paused, watching him for a moment as his grey eyes caught the firelight.

"It deserves it."