"Oh I know exactly who you are - Declan Alectric," Sirius growled the moment his face had transformed from dog to man, the snout disappearing into his face still even as he leaped up to his feet from the bed, Oliver sliding gently onto the pillow, muttering incoherently as he plopped down.

Declan's face was something between awe and amusement as he popped his stance, one hand on his hip, and gesturing with the other as he talked, "I had no idea my name preceded me."

"It certainly does. Oliver has told me all about you." Sirius said, "And I'm rather sure he's convinced himself that I'm a hallucination - no one talks so candidly when they think they're actually talking to a person, he just goes on and on as though he still fully believes me a dog, even though he's seen me in my human form..."

Declan grinned, "I mean, Sirius Black with a hair out of place - certainly that must be a hallucination. No one ever saw you so disheveled before, have they?" Declan raised an eyebrow and gestured at Sirius's wrinkled attire.

"You try living a life shrouded in secret and see how fine your fashions become, little one," Sirius retorted.

Declan's eyes lit with merriment. "Oh honey you've no idea."

Sirius snorted and shook his head. Declan watched Sirius mutter and turn to pace the room, an almost studious expression on his face, his eyed following Sirius's motion.

"You know, in all the years I've known of you and followed you about, this is the first time I've gotten to speak to you properly?" Declan said.

Sirius looked up, "Me?" he asked in surprise. "What in Merlin's bleeding nutsack are you wanting to talk to me for?"

Declan shrugged. "The notorious Sirius Black," he said loftily, "The iconic legend of mischief-making at Hogwarts, turned traitor and follower of the Dark Lord, murderer of his best friends, first ever convict to escape Azkaban prison. Great romancer and tamer of the werewolf Alpha, Remus Lupin... Who wouldn't want to talk with you?"

Sirius answered, "Anyone sane." He paused, then added, "Besides that, I'm only about half of those things in reality."

Declan drew his wand and waved it, appearing a chair directly behind himself. He dropped into it and crossed his legs so that his right ankle rested on top of his left knee, which was hitched over the arm of the chair as he sat slightly crookedly. He grinned up at Sirius.

"So tell me, Sirius Black," Declan said, stretching his arms back and folding them behind his head. "What is Azkaban like? Is it as dreadful as they all say?"

Sirius stared at Declan. "Conducting some type of survey, are you?"

"A survey?" Declan laughed.

"For one of your little news stories?"

Declan grinned, "Oh. No. No this is strictly off the record, you could call it a personal interest of mine."

Sirius swore and turned back to pacing, wondering why he'd even transformed for this little fucker. He wouldn't for anyone else - why this blue haired weirdo of all people? But even as Sirius thought it, he knew why. He turned around. "Why do you smell like my husband?" he asked.

"Your husband?" Declan echoed.

"Yes. You smell so much like him..."

He kicked his foot in time to a song he heard only in his head. "What does your husband smell like? I'd like to know if I'm being insulted."

Sirius answered without pause, "Warm jumpers and old, dusty books. Hot chocolate on a cold Autumn night. And just a tiny bit of birch bark or the first snow."

Declan raised an eyebrow at the description. "How does one person smell of all that?"

Sirius shrugged.

"So Oliver talks of me poorly, does he?" Declan asked, abruptly changing the subject. He lifted his wrist to his nose, smelling the jumper he wore as discreetly as possible.

"Not particularly," Sirius said, "A lot of my opinion is inferred from the things he doesn't say."

"Like what, do tell."

Sirius said, "Letting him drink like that - what kind of bloody friend are you? It's half ten! For pity's sake, who was even serving him at this fucking hour?"

"The Hog's Head Pub," Declan said, "Old Aberforth doesn't really give a hippogriff shit about the time or current mental state of his patrons, only if their gold clinks when it hits his till. I came and fetched him as soon as I knew he was in need."

"Few hours late to it, aren't you?" Sirius grumbled. "Way to hustle."

"Why didn't you help him, then if you're so worked up on it?"

"Sort of hard when you're wanted across the wizard and muggle world alike," snapped Sirius.

Declan shrugged. "Nearly as hard as not knowing it was happening from a whole other - er - timezone."

Sirius shook his head.

"You have yet to answer a single one of my questions," Declan pointed out.

"You ask stupid questions," Sirius replied.

"I've given up a lot to try to make Oliver's life better... there is only so much anyone can do, that's something I have learned in time. Some things you can't fix... But I try. Oliver deserved better then he ever got." Declan shrugged, "Terrible things happen all around him, and he feels guilty and alone and I just want him to feel a bit less alone. Anyway I can and as often as time allows me to."

Sirius paused by the fireplace, leaning against it and staring into the fire. "And the news stories you've written about him? The publicity work you do?"

"To further the career he always wanted? To protect his story from others who would be cruel with it in the papers? The reporters for the Prophet - they can be cruel, they take stories and make chokeholds with them, ruin reputations, lay out secrets and lies and cut open the people they supposedly love like some sort of muggle biology project, pinning back their skin to reveal the innards to the world, like splaying their private parts to everyone's watchful eyes is fair. Fame shouldn't equate to dehumanization."

Sirius considered that, "So you protect him."

"Even to the detriment of my career. I could rise to the top if I wrote everything I knew. I could be the most famous writer in the world, like other people do, but I'd rather the right story be told. It takes sacrifice to do that, sure, but it's right."

Sirius was quiet.

"You'd do the same for your husband, I suppose?" Declan asked.

Sirius continued to stare into the fire. "I would do anything for my husband."

Declan didn't speak, he just watched Sirius watching the fire.

"You love Oliver, then?" Sirius asked.

"I've come to love him," Declan answered. "That was never the plan. To love him."

Sirius chuckled, "I never planned to love my husband, either, but love doesn't let you pick and choose. You don't ever get to plan such things. It takes you by surprise when you least expect it."

"When did you fall in love with Remus, Sirius?" Declan sat forward, his legs sliding off the chair, his shoes touching the floor as he leaned in.

Sirius was staring into the flames, "I don't think it was a single moment when a light turned on. It wasn't like a sunrise, either. It was more like a night sky where one tiny fleck of starlight after another slowly illuminated until the sky was full of them. Or like the moon you see in the day that illuminates the night: it was there all along."

Declan was biting his lips, staring intently at Sirius.

"I think I loved Remus at first because he didn't love himself," Sirius continued, "And as a boy who had never been loved before, I knew what it was like to need it desperately. So I gave what I had to him... and he had the audacity to say that I was fire." Sirius shook his head. "But it was my darkness he lit up, I was a Black for crying out loud - my very bones screamed for me to be dark. It was my fate, my destiny, it was bred into me, it consumed my chest cavity from the inside out. Remus was never part of a plan," Sirius concluded, "But he was the plot twist that saved me from myself."

Declan asked, "If he meant so much to you, why did you let yourself be taken off to Azkaban?"

"Let myself?" Sirius laughed. "That was not a choice I made. I didn't put myself in there. Everyone - even Remus - assumed I was guilty for killing J--" Sirius's voice caught in his throat. He paused, anguished, balling his fist against the mantel. "I spent everyday in that cell thinking about my friends and about my husband," Sirius said. "And my time there is all the more proof that I was never the fire, but always the darkness. Away from him, I became darkness. And that's what put me into Azkaban. That's what kept me there all those years. The dementors of Azkaban were like nothing compared to me. I was a human dementor."

"But Remus never stopped loving you."

"He loved me despite what I had become."

Declan stared at the floor.

Sirius turned and looked at Declan. "Why do you smell like him?"

Declan hesitated.

"Are you his?" Sirius asked.

Declan's eyes widened. "His?"

"One of the wolves in his pack?"

Declan's nose flared slightly. "Sure," he replied. He might have said more - maybe - but there was a funny buzzing sound then that cut through silence and Sirius watched as Declan withdrew something from his pocket to make the sound stop. He stood up. "I need to go, Sirius, but it was brilliant getting to talk to you for once."

Sirius glanced at Oliver. "You're just going to leave him?"

"You're here."

Sirius said, "I would never have left my Moony in such a state."

"You're a better person than I am," Declan said. "Which honestly is a relief. It makes things a lot easier for me. Bye for now, Sirius Black."

Sirius watched Declan leave, and wondered what the purpose of the talk had been.