Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling. The title for the story, as well as the idea of basing it off of the four Greek loves and defying definitions comes from InSilva's story DannyandRusty.

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Friends. Partners. Brothers. Soulmates.

James and Sirius had never been worried about definitions. About figuring out what it was in their relationship that enabled them to coexist so flawlessly. It had happened, they were happy that it had happened, and, really, for them, that was all that mattered.

Besides to come up with a categorization, as such, well, that would be antithetical to what they were. What they believed in. Because they had never prescribed to predetermined boundaries or lived within existing limitations. Everything they were was about crossing lines, breaking rules, and reaching for infinity.

Except they lived in a rational world. A world that did not like to accept that some things could not be understood. A world that would continue to push, to search for answers, forgetting that, maybe, sometimes there were things beyond explanation.

"So, what's the deal?"

"Pardon?"

The girl, like most in the pub, had wistful eyes on the two black haired wizards sitting at the bar. Remus did not blame her. Charismatic and people people at the worst of times, James' and Sirius' charms were out in full dazzle tonight, even if they were solely reserved for each other.

"With Ruggedly Handsome and Too-Charming-For-His-Own-Good Casanova."

Remus bit back a grin. It was as apt a description of his two best mates as any, though he had no doubt that there would be much discussion over who got to be who.

"What about them?" He asked, watching as James' finger reaches out to wipe a smudge of sauce from Sirius' face.

"Are they together? What's their—" she waved a nondescript hand.

"Sirius and James? They are…"

Then he paused. It wasn't that he did not know how to end the thought; there were just too many possible endings to choose from.

"…I guess you could call them best mates."

Truth was a relative concept, anyway.

Remus sometimes wondered whether the person who had come up with the saying "two's company" had foreseen James and Sirius. It wasn't just that they didn't need anyone else. When they were together, no one else existed. Not that the exclusion was intentional. They were always welcoming to company, always eager to explain whatever scheme was running through their minds, always willing to share the newest joke they had made out of life. But it was impossible for them to relate everything. They could read each other so well that the tiniest twitch of an eyebrow was comprehended as words, the smallest movement in posture was perceived as a sentence, the slightest change in expression was absorbed as a paragraph. Silence between them didn't exist, and, really, how could that amount of communication, that volume of combined consciousness ever be expressed?

James' entrance stopped Remus in the middle of his sentence. The young pureblood was holding himself stiffly, clearly agitated about something.

"Prongs."

James ignored the greeting, heading straight for his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him. Remus didn't even have to look at Sirius to know that the gray-eyed wizard had stood to follow. The moment James entered a room Sirius' attention was going to be lost.

Sirius didn't knock before opening the door. He stood to the side, allowing Remus enough room to see inside, and leaned against the wall.

"So, what did Lily say," Sirius started casually.

James was lying front down on his bed. A muffled moan came from his pillow.

Sirius waited patiently for James to roll over. "Is she—"

"Angry doesn't even begin to cover it," James corrected. "I suppose me being an illegal animagus who spent four years running around with a werewolf is something I should have told her."

There was a long pause, as Sirius quickly peeked at Remus.

James winced as he tracked Sirius' look. Likely, he hadn't noticed that Remus was there to take what he said as an accusation.

"Not that it's your fault—" He sighed, ruefully.

"Don't worry about it," Remus interrupted with a tight smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius accompany the acceptance with an understanding look, as if Sirius needed to apologize to James that Remus was present to feel the insult in the first place.

"Apparently," James was saying mockingly, "I'm unreliable. And immature. And an arrogant toe-rag with a head the size of a bloated quaffle."

"She said that?" Sirius' eyebrow was raised.

"It was implied." James' tone was flat.

A pause. "You told her eventually," Sirius pointed out fairly.

"Yeah. Eventually." James answered. "And, well, you know…" He trailed off, and would have likely left it there for Sirius to understand had the latter not pointedly glanced at Remus, a reminder that not everyone could finish James' thoughts. Guiltily, James tried to continue as if he had not stopped, "You know how she gets about breaking laws, as much as she agrees that some of them are extremely stupid."

Sirius grimaced. "I suppose you could skip—"

James snorted.

"Only temporarily!"

"Yeah? What's she going to say when she finds out?" James challenged.

Sirius was optimistic. "She could surprise you. Maybe she'll think it's sweet."

James just raised an eyebrow. Because all three of them knew that Lily's reaction if she found out that James had removed himself from full moons and from helping Remus because he thought she was uncomfortable with it would be the farthest thing from romantic.

"We don't have to tell her," Sirius suggested hopefully, and James just looks aghast. There must be something else in that look, because Sirius is snorting:

"I have no idea where you might have come up with that."

One of them must have noticed Remus' confusion because James was belatedly explaining: "I was always under the impression that Sirius was supposed to be good at generating usable ideas." But the tension in James had dissipated, and his face was relaxed as he continued with the story. "I guess I had to tell her eventually…"

"Yeah."

"She did tell me she liked surprises."

Sirius laughed, obviously comprehending where James was going, "I don't think that's what she meant."

"Really, detective? What tipped you off?"

Sirius ignored the jibe. "So what did you say?"

James leveled Sirius with a look.

"What could I have said?"

Sirius considered. "Nothing."

"That's what I said."

"So she stormed out."

"And I transformed back."

"Well, that's that, I suppose," Sirius shrugged, somehow managing to perceive the entire encounter in that exchange.

"I always thought getting Lily was going to be the hardest part." Frustration.

"What, that everything after was going to be some sort of happily ever after?" Sirius was looking at him, askance.

"Something like that," James' tone is wistful.

"Are we still talking about the same Lily?"

A swat. "Shut up."

Remus couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get the full story from either of his two former classmates. The more cynical side of him also asked how long it would take James or Sirius to notice that he was no longer standing in the doorway.

It wasn't loyalty. Which wasn't to say they weren't loyal; they were, and they took that to a new level as they did everything else. But doing something out of loyalty required some sort of conscious choice, implied a line of reasoning behind the action. James or Sirius would look after Remus because Remus was their friend, because it was what friends did. That wasn't what drove them to aid each other. They helped each other because the other's welfare was the first thought in their minds, because their own happiness was so codependent on the other's that it was impossible to separate. They were there for each other because they literally couldn't conceive of being anywhere else.

They were late.

They were late, and Remus was a little worried.

He knew better. Knew he was being silly, knew they had been late before, knew that they were probably fine. But what they were doing wasn't without risks, and he knew that, too. So when he finally heard their whispers as they entered the dormitory, he couldn't help but be relieved. Until he saw the shadows made by a lit wand. Because one of his friends was definitely being half-carried by the other.

"I always thought I looked good in red," James was complaining, dryly. "This one, though, I'm not so fond of."

"It's better than that awful—"

"Don't insult the sweater. Lily made it."

Sirius snorted. "I think she only got it so that she had a reason to undress you."

"I do make a sexy nude," He could hear James' grin as Sirius helped him into bed.

"And people ask why I worry that you're an exhibitionist," Sirius muttered, but Remus could hear the fondness.

"Can you get the light?"

"What about—"

"Moony said he was staying with Wormtail in the hospital wing."

And, suddenly, despite the light in the room, the mood had grown dark. Sirius swallowed audibly. "James," And the use of his friend's given name stopped Remus from opening the bed hangings to offer support. They never used first names. Sirius was scared. "I'm going to have to—"

"I know. Make it quick."

A whisper. "It'll hurt."

"Make it quick," James' voice was gentle.

For a while there was silence broken only by soft gasps of pain. And then a sharp inhale from Sirius.

"What do you think?" Nonchalant.

Sirius responded just as carelessly. "It's barely a scratch." But the tone was too causal, and Remus knew that to Sirius, it might as well have been as wide as the English Channel.

"Maybe if we ignore it, it will go away on its own?" Sirius' voice is strangely hopeful, and James lets out a laugh.

"Sure. And maybe those essays for Slughorn will magically complete themselves, too."

"There's no need to be sarcastic, prat."

"Just go get Moony," James ordered, but there was no real exasperation, only affection.

"I'm here," Remus finally found his voice, and their surprise at seeing him sliding off his bed was outweighed by their relief at not having to sneak down to the Hospital Wing to fetch him. Upon seeing the wound, he exhaled slowly. James' lower leg was covered in blood, and he could see shattered bone through the broken skin and muscle. "What happened?"

"I messed up," Sirius was ridden with guilt, "Misjudged the timings."

James' jaw clenched, and Remus jumped in before James could. "You don't know that. Maybe there was an accident, and practice ended early. Maybe they decided to skip. Maybe we were just unfortunate."

He was right. Sirius knew he was right. But the Black heir had never liked to admit that there were things beyond his control.

"So, Moony," there was anxiety in James' voice, no matter how flippant he tried to keep it. "Is it bad?"

It wasn't good. But he had seen worse. He had healed worse. James would be fine. He smiled, "I wouldn't be canceling quidditch practice tomorrow. Padfoot can you get some skele-gro?"

Sirius was at the potions cupboard before he could blink. Remus turned to his friend, who was watching him carefully. "Prongs—"

"How much is it going to hurt?"

"Not too much," Remus reassured. "Like you got hit with a bludger."

James examined him. Then, "Liar."

"All right, so maybe multiple bludgers. Simultaneously," Remus grinned, prompting a laugh from the injured quidditch captain.

The treatment took a little more than ten minutes. When he was done, Sirius moved forward automatically, his gray eyes running across James as if to confirm he was still there. Finally, "I wish you hadn't—"

"What?" James' expression was dangerous.

"You were under the cloak"

"Yeah." Which sounded more like a so.

"They didn't even know you were there. You shouldn't have—"

"—you can't be serious?" James exclaimed.

"They had already seen me!" The words burst out of Sirius. "They knew I was involved. You should have just let me go."

James was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, each word was punctuated with incredulity. "I should have let you go."

"I told you to."

"I told you I couldn't hear you," James said, and there's a little bit of a taunting edge to his voice. "It was a bit difficult over the yelling and the cursing and the running from flying hexes."

Sirius blinked. "That's the most selfish thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, so because I don't want you hurt, I'm suddenly self-centered?" James challenged.

"And I suppose you stepping the way of a curse for no reason other than to protect me, isn't self-centered?"

There's silence, and they were both glaring at each other.

Finally, "Ok, fine, I'm selfish." Remus thought James capitulated a little too easily, but then the bespectacled pureblood was smiling, and there was unspoken promise in his tone. "I will always be selfish that way, Sirius."

Remus couldn't imagine it being any other way.

Remus also suspected that neither of them wanted it to be.

TBC

Philia: Described by Aristotle as the love of friendship. It is a virtuous love that require loyalty, equality, and familiarity to friends and family.

Authors Note:

I have always liked exploring the relationship between James and Sirius. They enjoyed a bond so deep and intrinsic that it is something to be admired and written about. That said, I was trying to decide how best to describe them, when I realized that, really, they are beyond words. They defy categories. Thus, this story was born.

It will be four chapters long. Each chapter will be narrated by a different person who will try and fit them into one of the four Greek words for love (philia, agape, storge, and eros). I will leave it to you to decide which one encompasses them best.

Please review. As always, constructive criticism and comments are always much appreciated.

Cheers,

The Third Marauder