It was third year. Remus was taking a nap. The full moon had taken a lot out of him and he needed a rest. James or Peter or Sirius would be coming up at any time to wake him up for dinner, so he was in that state between sleeping and waking, in that haze where one was both dreaming and awake, where everything in the world was fuzzy, like the edge of an old photograph.
He rolled over from his side onto his belly, trying to fall asleep again. He had nearly reached his goal when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Then he heard the door open. He had an urge to throw a pillow over his face, but then the person would know he was awake and insist he get out of bed.
He continued to pretend to be asleep, hoping to buy himself a few more moments of warm, peaceful, bliss. The orange wool blanket and down duvet on top of him kept him very cosy indeed. If he never woke again, he'd be content.
"Remus you have to wake up," said Sirius barely above a whisper. Remus heard his friend kneel beside the bed and felt him push a piece of hair out of his face. Remus turned, rolling onto his back. It was warm in bed and though he wanted to spend time with his friends he also wanted to go back to sleep.
"Remus, wake up," whispered Sirius again, his face now next to Remus' neck. He felt the warm breath ghosting over his skin, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.
Then, in a move Remus thought was so impossible he swore he must still have been sleeping, Sirius pressed his lips against Remus' forehead. His lips were firm and warm, though a little chapped from the cold wind outside, but gentle. After a few long seconds, Sirius pushed himself up off his knees using Remus' mattress as a handhold and stood up, walking towards the door.
"Get some sleep, mate, I'll make sure to bring you back something from dinner," whispered Sirius, walking outside.
That was the night Remus knew he was in love with Sirius.