A/N: this is short and nothing particularly dramatic happens, but warm fuzzies may be garnered from this fic. Unless you don't like slash, that is, two boys liking each other romantically, in which case I invite you to use the friendly back button.

Disclaimer: Remus and Sirius, et al., belong to JKR. I'm just playing with them for a while, and they shall be returned completely intact, none the worse for wear, and probably fairly happy.

Merely One More Day

Somehow, Remus had always expected it would be more difficult.

He'd never really been particularly a romantic. He had a fairly good idea what love was – his parents loved each other, and loved him as well, though differently; from everyone who cared, Remus had always gotten more than enough affirmations of love and caring; even when very young he suspected this was in part due to his lycanthropy, but he appreciated it just the same. His parents also loved books, and Remus, as soon as he'd learned to properly read, could see why – spilling, beautiful, wonderful words, that formed themselves into stories, sometimes about love, always labors of love themselves. So Remus Lupin had never been a romantic; love was like breathing, something that was, with no need of embellishment or further explanation.

After starting at Hogwarts, Remus had discovered to his surprise that it wasn't always the same with everyone. His dorm mates in particular seemed to have odd ideas of love. James Potter seemed to think it was a terribly funny thing, and that to love properly one had to do rather complicated and grown-up things that most adults explained in a 'Talk'. Peter Pettigrew appeared to be quite familiar with the sort of love Remus knew, but Peter didn't seem able to express it properly. And Sirius Black –

Well.

Considering Sirius, really, things should have been far more difficult.

In first year, Remus had never actually asked his friends straight out, "What do you think love is?" For a start, Remus hadn't realized some people might not know, but he was also aware that, was he to ask this question of fellow eleven-year-old boys, he was likely to get only blank stares. Everything he'd garnered from James' and Peter's opinions on love, he'd done himself by mere observation. But even at eleven, Remus knew with certainty that, were he to ask Sirius what love was, the other boy would merely blink, look momentarily blank, and change the subject. Sirius had no loving parents or supportive relatives or comforting books; love was something that happened to other people.

It hadn't occurred to Remus until second year that Sirius was really capable of something he'd never heard of. But on the day when the other three boys had confronted Remus, had told them they knew what he was, and didn't care, it didn't matter what he was because he was still their friend – Sirius had been the first to start a jumbled explanation, the first to hastily explain that the realization their friend was a werewolf made not a bit of difference. And Remus had seen quite clearly the fierce love of friendship in Sirius' eyes.

So, after all, it wasn't difficult in the least.

It wasn't really until fifth year that it occurred to Remus how very much Sirius meant to him, even more than the other boys. His friends had just finished explaining what they could now do, that they were Animagi and brilliant and wonderful, and Remus had looked at them all, and said, "Whose idea?" They had grinned and shuffled their feet, and Sirius had replied, "We all came up with it," and that was answer enough. And Remus had swallowed hard, and blinked furiously, and fiercely hugged a large shaggy black dog.

It was sometime the following year when Remus smiled at his pale, floppy-haired reflection in the mirror, and whispered, a silent whisper, yes, I want him, I love him, my Sirius.

It was as simple as that.

Remus then tried very hard to be perfectly content with the knowledge that Sirius was his friend, and they spent a great deal of time together, and at least at some unconscious level Sirius loved him back. It might, at that, be the unsatisfactory love of a brother, but that was far better than nothing.

But one morning, when Remus awoke, it was a new day. It was some two weeks after one of Sirius's horribly impetuous moments, this time with almost shattering consequences, but Sirius had come to Remus the next morning in the hospital wing, shuffling his feet in the same manner he had those years ago when he'd told Remus they were still friends, and his shaggy black hair fell into his light Padfoot eyes, and he had explained, low-voiced, that he wasn't sorry for what he'd done, but he was so sorry for what happened afterwards. And that he'd only told Snape about the Willow because he was angry, not just at Snape but in defense of Remus. And that was enough. So now it was two weeks after, with life the same as ever and infinitely different, and when Remus awoke it was a new day.

Somehow, it was very easy to tell that this day was new, not a day just like any of the thousand others they had stumbled and hexed and laughed their way through. This was a day like the day Remus' friends had told him they were unafraid of a full moon and a mindless wolf; this was a day like the day Sirius had transformed before his eyes into a panting wiggling eager dog and back again with a wicked grin and a shock of dark hair. This was a day in which Remus' relationship with the other boys took its natural course, and changed infinitely and irrevocably for the better.

So it was only natural that Remus and Sirius bumped into each other on the stairwell on the way down to the common room, after James and Peter had torn off to an early breakfast. Just as it was natural for Sirius to grin, carefree wicked Padfoot grin, and slip his hand along the inside of Remus' wrist and pull them closer. And Remus managed not to say, what took you so long, because just now, today, was the new day and the right day, so when the next moment their noses bumped and then they were kissing, that too was only natural, merely one more thing that happened along the course of days.

As simple as that.