"Right," Remus agreed, and concentrated on his breathing. He realized, in the sort of quiet realization that had no attachment of loss, just fond remembrance and maybe the slightest wish of privacy, that he hadn't been following his nightly book regime. Not since Sirius had arrived, and, to cement it, the duties of work.

Remus was falling asleep, too, despite the messing of his hair. Both he and Sirius were leaning against the tree, and he vaguely had an idea of what would happen if he fell asleep outside and Sirius had free reign to do most Sirius-type things, like muss up his hair, but the thought wasn't fully formed, quite, when he actually did fall asleep, back against the tree and body relaxing into the deeper sort of naps.