Man's Best Friend

Author: Mysid
Rating: PG
Archiving: All FQF will be archived solely at this site until September 30th, 2004. At that point, the author may post the fic elsewhere or may be contacted to have this fic archived at different sites if they so choose.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not making any money from this story, and I don't intend to.
Challenge & Summary: Full Moon #5: The puppies celebrate an anniversary. (It must be something sweet and something pertaining to them.) and Full Moon #12: One of the pups feels under appreciated by the other. During fifth year, Sirius wonders which of them is Remus’s best friend. He believes he deserves to be the one, but fears that he is not.
Author Notes: I took a bit of liberty with the “anniversary” idea, as they don’t remember the exact date, but it’s the right time of year and the same location.

Remus unrolled his essay to estimate its length and then leaned back in his chair staring at his unfinished work.  Sirius recognized the signs.  Remus was getting restless and wanted to take a break, and this close to the full moon, there was only one place Remus was likely to go—the kitchens.  Sirius pretended to be absorbed in his own work, but he peeked up through his fringe and watched as Remus wrote a few more sentences and then dropped his quill beside his parchment.

“He’s going,” Sirius thought.  “Ask me to go with you.  ‘Hey, Padfoot, want to go to the kitchens with me?’” Remus glanced up at Sirius, but Sirius looked down at his textbook before Remus could catch him staring.

“Does anyone want to go to the kitchens with me?” Remus asked as he stood up from the Common Room table.

“Bugger,” Sirius thought.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Peter said.

“No, thanks,” James said.

“Sirius?” Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head.  He didn’t care if he went; he’d wanted to be asked.  If Remus were going alone, Sirius would gladly go with him to keep him company, but he felt no temptation to tag along if Peter would be there.  Sirius abandoned all pretense of pretending to work and watched as Remus and Peter made their way through the Common Room.  Just before they stepped out of the portrait hole, Remus laughed at something Peter said.

“Bugger,” Sirius said under his breath.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Sirius unrolled his unfinished essay and reread the portion he’d written.  He hoped that focusing on his Defence essay would distract him from thinking about Remus, but it only called to mind the previous day’s Defence class.  After reviewing several blocking spells and teaching an additional one, Professor Grianan had instructed the class to pair off to practice using them.  Although sitting near Sirius, Remus had leaned forward to look past him and asked Peter to be his partner.  Sirius had not been left without a partner, of course—there was James—but it rankled him that Remus hadn’t asked him.

It had never before occurred to Sirius to wonder about the dynamics of their little group, but now he couldn’t help but think about it.  That he and James were best friends was a given.  They had loathed each other intensely for the first month, but then became friends with an equal intensity.  But did that make Remus and Peter best friends by default?  Sirius had always thought of their friendships as a collective, a group friendship.

Did Remus consider any one of them to be his best friend?  And if he did, which one?  Ever since yesterday’s Defence class, Sirius had been alert to any sign that Remus preferred the company of any one of them, and especially alert to any sign that it was Peter.  Remus had gone with Peter to breakfast this morning rather than wait for James or Sirius, and he’d shared a potting bench with Peter in Herbology.  Remus had chosen to sit with Sirius in Potions, but he always did that.  Potions was not Remus’s strongest subject, and he relied on Sirius’s help to get through.  He’d sat beside James in Transfiguration, even though he had to pass an empty seat next to Sirius.  And it wasn’t to get James’s help; McGonagall was too sharp let them get away with that.  But it was with Peter that Remus had spent two hours in the library yesterday while James and Sirius were at Quidditch practice.

“Peter doesn’t deserve to be his best friend,” Sirius thought with a scowl, “not after the way he reacted when we told him that Remus is a werewolf.”  Peter had come around quickly, but his initial reaction had been fear.  Sirius had threatened to hex him if he said anything stupid or cruel to Remus.  “And what’s he ever done for Remus?”  Peter had become an animagus, mastering it just recently, but they’d all done that for Remus.  “James is the one who had the idea, and I’m the one who did most of the research.  And James and I took turns trying everything first.  We’ve already spent two full moons with Remus, and this will only be Peter’s first.

“And when was the last time Peter went down to the hospital wing to visit Remus unless James or I were going too?  I’m the one who goes at least once a day, every single day Remus is in there.  I’m the one who spends a fortune in Honeydukes buying chocolate just so I can put it in Remus’s bedside table.  I’m the one who memorizes the dates of the full moons every year so I’ll always know if anything will fall on a bad day for Remus.”

“Sirius!” James gave him a rough shove.

Sirius glared back as he rubbed his arm where James had pushed him.  “What, you stupid berk?”

“For the ninetieth time, pass me Moony’s ink bottle, mine’s out.  Merlin, where the hell are you tonight?”

Sirius roughly passed his own ink to James, splashing some on the table in the process.  “Don’t use Moony’s.  He can’t afford to buy supplies for you and him.”

“I’ll buy him some more.  You know I will.”

Sirius allowed several minutes of silence to pass before he dared to ask James one of the questions on his mind.  “James, do you think Remus and Peter are best friends?”

“I suppose so,” James answered as if only half listening.  “Cricket carapaces are interchangeable with grasshopper carapaces in most potions aren’t they?”

“What do you mean, you suppose so?  Do you think so or not?”

James finally looked up from his Potions textbook.  “What are you on about?”

“Do you really think Peter is Remus’s best friend?”

“I’ll pass him a note in class and ask him,” James said sarcastically.  “Don’t be such a girl.”

James’s “girl” comment left Sirius thoroughly chastened.  Their friendships simply were; they weren’t something to be discussed.  When Remus and Peter returned from the kitchens, Sirius tried to put the questions out of his mind.  Tried.  He wasn’t completely successful.

* * * * *

Hours later, he lay awake in bed running through a mental checklist of all the ways each of them showed Remus that they were his friends.  The vast majority were, of course, shared by all.  Just as he’d suspected, their friendship was primarily collective.  But Sirius felt somehow triumphant every time he thought of something he did that neither of the others did, but nagging doubts as to their importance remained.  “I’m the one who sits with him after he’s had a nightmare—but that’s probably because my bed is next to his, and I’m the one who hears him.  I usually sit next to him in the Great Hall—but I sit across from James, and I probably talk to James more.  After the full moon, I go over whatever he missed in class with him—but he likes James’s notes better than mine.  We all became animagi for him—but I’m the dog.  I came the closest to being a wolf.  That’s got to mean something.”

Sirius heard a soft rustle of curtains from the neighboring bed, Remus’s bed, and the nearly silent scuffle of bare feet on the floor.  He pulled his own curtains open and saw Remus take a seat on the wide sill of the window.  From his bed, Sirius couldn’t see the moon, but Remus was bathed in her cold light.  Sirius didn’t need the moonlight to tell him the moon was gibbous and waxing.  He knew the exact date and time the full moon would rise.  Two days.  In two more days Remus would have to suffer again.

Sirius got up and joined Remus on the windowsill.  Remus moved his feet to make room for Sirius without needing to be asked.  This wasn’t the first night they’d sat here together.  At eleven, they’d both fit comfortably; at fifteen, the tight space should have been uncomfortably close, and yet it wasn’t.  Sirius thought it was rather like a tree growing out of a crack in a rock.  A full-grown tree, or even a sapling, could never be planted in the crack, but a seedling could take up residence there and then grow into it.  If he and Remus had first attempted to fit together on the windowsill at fifteen, at least one of them would have ended up falling gracelessly to the floor.  To prevent that fall from happening tonight, Sirius wedged one foot between Remus and the wall and kept his other foot on the ground.

“Can’t sleep?” Remus asked.  Sirius shook his head.  “Your mind just won’t turn off, or is something bothering you?”

 “Both, I guess,” Sirius admitted.  He didn’t need to ask why Remus was awake.  He became slightly nocturnal as the wolf grew stronger within him.  He couldn’t sleep well at night, and needed naps during the day. 

“Want to talk about it?”  Sirius shook his head again.  Remus nodded and turned his face back to the sky. 

“She’s a beautiful bitch, isn’t she?” Sirius asked.  “Beautiful and cruel.”

Remus smiled slightly.  “In Muggle fairy tales, beauty and goodness always go together.  Evil characters are ugly.”

“That’s stupid. Most of my family is good-looking.”

Remus looked away from the window and down at his folded arms upon his knees pulled close to his chest.  His newest scars, the ones he’d acquired despite Padfoot’s efforts to distract him, were clear even in the strange grey light of the moon.  “Sometimes it’s true,” he said softly.

Remus’s thoughts were all too easy to read.  Sirius wanted to tell him that he was wrong on both counts.  Remus wasn’t evil; he was a good person dealing with a horrible curse.  And as for his scars, Sirius thought they were a physical testament to how strong and resilient Remus was.  They weren’t ugly.  In a strange way they were beautiful.   But boys didn’t tell other boys they were beautiful.  Sirius decided to lighten the moment by joking instead. 

“Of course it’s true sometimes.  Look at me—I’m devastatingly handsome and I’m the very essence of goodness.”

Remus laughed.

* * * * *

Getting Remus through the full moon, an ordeal made less traumatic now that his friends could join him in the Shrieking Shack and distract him from constant self-mutilation, but still an ordeal none the less, and then seeing him through the recovery period, definitely took precedence in Sirius’s mind over his own petty worries about what Remus thought of their friendship.  But within less than a week, Sirius found himself wondering again.

O.W.L.S were now only weeks away, and Sirius found himself living with dormmates single-mindedly focused on their studies.   It meant that the dormitory was unnervingly quiet, and quiet allowed him to think too much.  With the end of the year exams also approaching, all of Gryffindor had suddenly become studious.  Even down in the Common Room, no one wanted to play a nice distracting game of Exploding Snap or Gobstones.

And so Sirius thought.  Even more disturbing than the fact that he didn’t know whether or not Remus considered him his best friend—when it was perfectly obvious to Sirius that he should be considered such—was the fact that he was obsessed with this. “I know I’m James’s best friend.  What kind of narcissistic bastard needs more than one person to think he’s their best friend?” And yet, somehow it seemed important that Remus value Sirius’s friendship highly.  Sirius was disturbed by the idea of someone else being more important to Remus than Sirius was—even if that someone else was one of their other friends.

“I’m going to fail Potions, you know,” Remus said.  “I only made it through this year because of you.” 

Sirius was lying on the floor between his own bed and Remus’s, with his books and notes spread out around him.  He looked up to see Remus peering over the side of the bed at him.  “You’ll do well enough to pass.  Do you want me to study with you?”

Remus bit his lip as he considered, and then he shook his head.  “Better not.  I’d do better to see what I still don’t know on my own. You carry me too much.”

“I’m sorry.”  Sirius stared down at his books and notes again rather than face Remus.

“Don’t be.  Potions would have been unbearable if you hadn’t, but now I have to pay for it.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that Potions was the only class you’re willing to sit beside me.”  Sirius grimaced; he hadn’t meant to say that.  It was true.  Ever since he’d started paying attention to such things, Sirius had noticed that Remus was unwilling to sit beside Sirius in any other class.  He’d sit beside Peter sometimes, James sometimes, and even alone sometimes.  But he only sat with Sirius in Potions, and they’d partnered in there since first year.  It was a tradition too old for Remus to break without Sirius noticing.

“You noticed,” Remus said in a quiet and strangely tense voice. 

Sirius’s heart sank.  It was one thing if Remus had been avoiding him unconsciously, something else if it had been deliberate.  The first meant that Remus simply didn’t care to spend much time with him; the second meant that Remus actually disliked spending time with him.  He began to doodle little black spirals and checkerboards into the margins of his notes.

“What else—um—” Sirius heard Remus shift on his bed and parchment crinkle as Remus accidentally leaned upon it.  “I’m really sorry.”

Sirius shook his head to dismiss the apology, but he continued to draw dark little designs on his parchment.  “Don’t apologize; it’s alright.  I’m used to people not wanting me around.  And if you do fail Potions, you won’t have to put up with me for any classes next year.”  Sirius knew it was a cruel thing to say, but Remus had hurt him.  He needed to hurt back.

“It’s not that—”

“Save it,” Sirius said angrily.  He sat up and started to gather his things together.  Suddenly the idea of studying in the Common Room seemed much more appealing.  It might be the only way to keep from saying something even more hurtful. 

“We need to talk,” Remus said quietly.  “Will you go for a walk with me?” 

Sirius didn’t trust himself to answer.  He didn’t even know what he wanted to answer, but he did drop his books back on the floor.  Remus fished his trainers out from under his bed, but Sirius made no effort to do likewise.  He felt Remus grasp his shoulder.

“Please,” Remus said even more quietly.  “I can’t talk about this in front of the others.”

Sirius nodded reluctantly.  He slipped on his shoes and headed for the door, leaving Remus to make excuses for their sudden departure to James and Peter.  He heard the word “Honeydukes” mentioned, so he headed in the direction of the one-eyed witch statue after passing through the Common Room. 

“You don’t really need more chocolate already, do you?” Sirius asked as Remus fell into step beside him.  Sirius had just replenished Remus’s stash while he was in the hospital wing.

“No, my anonymous supplier has been busy,” Remus said with a pointed glance in Sirius’s direction.  “It was just an excuse, but Peter and James asked me to get them some sugar quills while we’re there.”

“I guess we have to go then.”

They were halfway through the tunnel, and Sirius had just bumped his head for the second time, when he decided that he’d had enough of the silence.  Remus had said that wanted to talk to him, but they had been alone for several minutes and Remus hadn’t said a word.  So Sirius sat. 

When Remus stopped and looked back at him, Sirius cocked his head to the side and said, “Time’s up.  Either you’ve thought up a sugar-coated excuse for not sitting near me in class and for refusing to partner me in Defence, or it’s time to admit that you don’t like being around me.” 

“In Defence?”

“You were sitting closer to me, but you asked Peter to be your partner.”

“So you could be James’s partner.  Didn’t you want to be James’s partner?”

Sirius felt foolish for not having realized what should have been an obvious explanation, but he wasn’t willing to give up all of his indignation.  “That doesn’t explain why you avoid sitting near me.”

Remus bit his lower lip and sat where he was, several feet away from Sirius.  Remus ran a hand through his hair in a very Jamesian way, and Sirius looked away.  He wanted the truth, but he didn’t want Remus to see how much the truth would hurt him.  He focused instead on charming scattered stones on the floor to glow so they would be able to darken their wands.

“Of course I like being around you,” Remus began, “it’s just in class.  I—you’re distracting.  I’ve been avoiding you in class lately because I can’t concentrate very well if you’re near me.  O.W.L.S are coming up, and I need to pay attention.”

Sirius looked up during this explanation and saw that it seemed sincere.  He laughed in relief.  “Is that all?  You could have said something.  ‘Shut up, you stupid sod.  I’m trying to pay attention,’ generally works.  That’s what James says when I’m annoying him.  He’s no better, of course.  That’s why McGonagall won’t let us sit near each other you know.”

“I know.”

“She says we that we distract each other, and if we’re together, we distract the class.’”

“I know.”  Remus bit his lip again.

“So I can sit near you as long as I promise not to bother you, right?” Sirius asked.  Remus hesitated and then shook his head. 

Sirius almost asked, “Why not?” but fell silent as a realization struck him.  Remus could have discussed this in front of James and Peter.  “You’re an annoying git,” didn’t require privacy.  This wasn’t the real reason Remus wouldn’t sit near him in class; this was a lie designed to spare Sirius’s feelings.  Remus had asked to go for a walk to buy time to think of a lie.  Remus didn’t want to be around him.  And if he didn’t want Sirius around, Sirius wouldn’t stay around.  He still had enough self-respect for that.

“I’ll give you one thing.  You’re a much better liar than you used to be, Remus Lupin.  I actually believed you for a minute.  I’ll go get the sugar quills,” Sirius said.  He transformed and ran down the tunnel as fast as four legs could carry him.  He was able to climb the stairs and nudge open the trapdoor into the cellar as a dog, but he changed back into human form to get a box of sugar quills off a shelf.  He didn’t have any money with him to leave on the steps up to the shop, but he’d simply tell James to pay for them the next time he went into the sweet shop—if he remembered.

The drawback of regaining a human mind had been immediate.  As a dog, he’d been able to focus just on his task.  Now, as a human, he couldn’t help but reflect on how Remus was rejecting his friendship.  The initial feelings of sadness and loneliness were quickly joined by anger. 

Sirius pulled the trapdoor closed over his head as he went down the stairs into the tunnel. He saw the light of Remus’s wand approach and thought about transforming back rather than face Remus again.  He hesitated, not knowing what to do with the box of quills.  “And why should I run away?  He’s the one who’s in the wrong this time, not me” Sirius thought defiantly.  He stood on the lowest step and waited.

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Sirius said angrily.  “Most people who hate me have a reason.  The family hates me because I utterly and completely reject everything they stand for.  Some of the teachers hate me because I get bored in their classes and make trouble.  But you—you don’t like me, and you don’t even have a good reason.  I’ve done nothing to you but try to be your friend.  If you can’t see that—” Sirius broke off abruptly when he felt tears threaten to fall.  He was not going to cry in front of Remus.

“Of course I know you’re my friend,” Remus said.  He started to reach out for Sirius’s arm, but thought better of it and crossed his arms instead.  “Do you remember the first time you brought me here?”

Sirius shook his head.  He remembered, but he didn’t want to talk.

“It was first year, just around this time of year.  It was also just after a full moon, and I’d got out of the hospital wing that day.  I was dying to have some chocolate while studying for exams, but I didn’t have any left.  You came bounding into the dormitory like an overexcited puppy.”  Remus smiled as he said it.  “James wasn’t there, and you were dying to show someone the new tunnel you’d discovered, so you said, ‘Remus, you’ve got to come with me!  This is absolutely brilliant!’”

Sirius remembered, and he hadn’t been looking for James.  He’d discovered the tunnel the previous day, but had waited for Remus to come back so he could show him first.  Remus was the one with a sweet tooth, not James, so it just made sense to share the tunnel to Honeydukes with Remus first. 

“You brought me down here, and—I don’t know if I can explain to you what it meant to me.”  Remus sat down on the steps as he spoke, and after a pause, Sirius sat beside him.  “Just a month before, just before the previous full moon, the three of you told me that you knew what I am.  You all told me that you were still my friends, and that this wouldn’t change anything between us—and I didn’t believe you.”

Sirius looked askance at Remus but didn’t say anything.

“I believed that you wanted it to be true, but—of course things were different between us.  How could you look at me and not see a dark creature?  From now on, you’d look at me and think ‘werewolf.’  I know that’s why Peter wouldn’t sleep in the bed next to mine anymore.”

“You didn’t believe our story about a draught.”

Remus shook his head.  “Pathetic.  But I really dreaded the first time you and James acted afraid of me.  Maybe I’d lose my temper and see fear in your eyes, or maybe when we studied werewolves in Defence, you’d be forced to confront just how dangerous I can be.” 

Remus took a deep breath.  “And then you brought me down here.  I mean, look around, Padfoot.”  Remus gestured down the tunnel lost in the darkness beyond the faint sphere of wandlight.  “Could we be any more isolated and alone?  This is not a place you chose to go in the company of a dark creature who might want to tear your throat out.  You trusted me.  And you didn’t even seem to realize that it was a brave thing to do.  You were just bringing your friend to see the brilliant secret tunnel you’d discovered.  That’s when I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could look at me and see ‘Remus,’ not ‘a werewolf’.”

“Of course we do,” Sirius said quietly.

Remus shook his head.  “You do.  James and Peter never forget what I am, but they aren’t as afraid of me as they used to be.  But you have never been afraid of me.”

“I don’t forget that you’re a werewolf either,” Sirius said, “but the wolf is part of you, and I like you, so why shouldn’t I like the wolf?”

“Thank you.  You’re naïve, but thank you.”

“So, confess.  Why won’t you sit near me in class?  And don’t give me that shit about my annoying you in class, because you could have said that in the dormitory.”

“I didn’t say you annoyed me, I said that you distracted me.”  Remus leaned forward and hid his face in his hands.  “Don’t make me tell you.”

“I’d tell you.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Remus said, still into his hands.  He laughed bitterly and looked up into the darkness ahead of them.  “You won’t want to sit near me once I tell you, and you’ll probably make Peter switch beds back—that is if you don’t kick me out of the dormitory all together.”

“What could possibly—”

“I watch the way your hands move.”

“My hands?”

“And you smell good.”

“You can borrow my shampoo if you want.”

Remus sighed.  “I notice the way your hair catches the light, and the way your pulse beats under the skin on your throat, and the way your face changes when you smile, and—other things.  Are you going to make me say this?”

“Say what?” Sirius asked in exasperation.  “Honestly, Moony, if you’re so easily distracted that you watch me, I don’t—”

“I think I’m a poof, alright?  You distract me because I’m a poof, and you’re so bloody good-looking that I can’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“You think you’re a poof.”

Remus stood and took a few steps away.  He became a silhouette in his wandlight.  “Well, I haven’t exactly put it to a test, but I’ve never watched any girls the way I do you.”

Sirius lit his own wand so he could see more of Remus than a shadow.  “You can’t be my partner in Potions anymore,” Sirius said firmly. 

Remus nodded without turning around. 

“You aren’t distracted by James, are you?”

“No,” Remus answered in a quiet voice.

“Good, because he’s better in Potions than Peter is.  He’s not quite as good as I am, but good enough to get you through.  I won’t have you fail Potions and blow your chance to become an auror because you were distracted by me.”

Remus had turned while Sirius explained whom his new Potions partner would be, and a look of complete confusion was on his face.  “But—I don’t—you aren’t angry?”

“Why would I be angry?  It’s flattering,” Sirius said with a grin.  “Am I distracting in the showers too?  Do you like watching the foam from my shampoo slide down my body when I rinse my hair?”

“Oh god,” Remus groaned as he rubbed an imaginary crease from his forehead.  “You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?”

“What are friends for?”  Sirius laughed and patted the step beside him.  “I’m glad you told me,” he said as Remus sat down again.

Remus smiled.  “And this is an appropriate setting for it.  Four years ago, this is where you made me believe you didn’t mind a werewolf for a friend.  Now, you make me believe you don’t mind a poof for a friend either.  Merlin, I’m a double freak, and you don’t even care.”

“You think you’re a poof,” Sirius reminded him.  “I think you need to put it to a test.”

“I will—eventually.”

Remus reached for the box of sugar quills at Sirius’s feet, but Sirius used his foot to push the box out of Remus’s reach.  Remus looked up in surprise while still leaning in Sirius’s direction, and Sirius kissed him before he could pull any further away.  Remus started back in surprise before the kiss could become any more than a faint touch of lips to lips.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you, Moony.  You want to know, don’t you?”  Sirius put his hand on the step just behind Remus’s back and leaned in to kiss him again, but Remus bolted off the step.

“This isn’t a game, Sirius,” Remus said angrily.  “It’s bad enough that I’ve fallen for you knowing that you’re never, ever going to feel the same way.  And I’m trying to not feel this way—and it’s hard, Sirius, it’s just bloody hard being around you—and then you want to kiss me just for laughs?”  Remus growled a very human growl of exasperation as he stalked away.

But Sirius hadn’t wanted to kiss him “just for laughs,” and he mentally cursed himself that he’d bungled it so badly.

“I’m sorry, Moony,” Sirius said as he grabbed his friend’s arm and tried to slow him down.  “I know it’s not a game, and I should have asked before I kissed you, and it’s the stupid girls’ fault.”  That made Remus stop and look at Sirius, and Sirius could see that he was trying not to laugh.

“What?”  Remus shook his head as if to clear it of Sirius-induced confusion.  “What girl?”

“The girls—all of them.  They like it when you just suddenly kiss them, so I got in the habit.  Not that I’ve kissed that many.  More than you, but we know why now.”

“Yes, now we know why,” Remus said wryly.

“And anyway, how do you know that I’ll ‘never feel the same’ if you don’t let me kiss you?” Sirius asked as he took Remus’s hand.  Remus’s eyes opened a bit wider for a moment, but then he shook his head slightly and took a step back.

“You like girls, Padfoot, and that’s not suddenly going to change if you kiss me.”

Sirius shrugged.  “To tell the truth, I’ve never noticed anyone the way you say you look at me.  Maybe I—it doesn’t matter.   The point is, I didn’t care about any of the girls I’ve dated.  I dated them because they wanted to date me, and because that’s what I was supposed to do.  So, I’ve kissed girls, but I’ve never kissed you.  I want to kiss you.  May I?”

Sirius waited a moment for an answer, and then realizing that one should never give Remus too much time to think about why something was a bad idea, he didn’t wait any longer.  He closed the distance between them with one step and dropped his wand so he could capture Remus’s waist and hold it close.  Remus’s mouth opened to protest, but the words were lost into Sirius’s mouth.  Remus froze as if unable to decide whether to struggle against what was happening or to surrender to the experience. 

Sirius improvised an imitation of the best kiss he’d ever got—from ‘Talented-tongue Tabitha’—first licking inside Remus’s lip and then sliding his tongue along Remus’s tongue.  A noise—not quite a moan—escaped Remus’s throat as he began to respond in kind.  Darkness enveloped them as Remus dropped his wand and tangled his hand in Sirius’s hair.

Sirius didn’t know if it was the warm, wet heat of Remus’s mouth and the velvety sensation of his tongue, or the way Remus’s body was pressed firmly against his own, or the echoing in his mind of the sound Remus had made, and his desire to hear it again, but something had an effect upon him.  The familiar heavy heat of arousal left him hoping Remus would shift just slightly to the right and crush against him even more tightly.

Instead, Remus tempered the searing kisses down to a few light lingering ones and took a step back.  He was still within the curve of Sirius’s arm, but no longer crushingly close.  Sirius couldn’t see the look on Remus’s face, but the warm breath on his face was nearly panting.

“Well?” Sirius asked with a smile.  “What are the test results?”

Remus chuckled. “I am. I am definitely gay. You?”

“Interested in further testing.”

-- Written September 2004