(Author's Note: Hey. I do have a few other parts to this written, but for now I'm only posting the introduction and Part One. I'm not entirely happy with these two- the former sounds the same no matter how I rewrite it, and the latter took on a rather dark overtone. Let me know what you think, and enjoy.)

Being in love with Sirius Black was not an easy thing to do.

I, Remus Lupin, am also a boy - that causes some issues, but ends up being fairly minimal. Werewolves of the half-blooded, studious, intellectual and gay variety come to understand the concept of "different."

Just as minimal is the physical attraction, the way I want to touch-taste-smell-feel-kiss-fuck Sirius, the way a shake of his hair, a gesture, a smile can leave me staring and quite unable to place what I'd just been doing. Wanting to ravage him, be ravaged by him, have him just there and be just the one to make him feel good - these are nothing another homosexual wouldn't feel. In the long and the short, they're minimal.

What was instead the single most momentous occasion of our years at Hogwarts -that is to say, not minimal- was the way I fell for him. Intellectually. Emotionally. In just about every way possible. Unconditionally, without restraint. Aside from James, I believe myself to be the only one who knows every part of Sirius and who accepts him, even prefers him, for every imperfection.

I knew his hatred, his sneers, his ugliness. I knew every expression that went through his eyes -God those eyes-, the way they'd be flint and silver and molten steel-grey. I had no choice in falling for him, so fall I did- completely.

I wish he had known that when it all began.