For my Moony, who I wrote this for very very late at night with no light almost a year ago. Obviously not my anything, ideas just don't happen that late at night...
Something was, excuse the pun, seriously wrong with Sirius. He had actually smiled on the way to breakfast. With teeth and upturned corners of mouth and everything. Sirius never smiled before breakfast. Ever. It was as though his facial muscles required food in his stomach to function.
And yesterday, he'd walked into Susan Bones. And not in a charming, oops-I'm-so-sorry-please-let-me-stare-down-your-robes-while-we-gather-your-books sort of way. In a didn't-notice-the-girl-in-the-middle-of-the-hallway sort of way. Remus had concluded Sirius must be very, very ill. After all, Susan wasn't that bad looking – she had a nice nose and she was smart and even funny sometimes, and Sirius had just been talking to Remus when it happened. Talking to him about Herbology, of all things, and therefore not even attention-consuming Marauder things.
And now this. Sirius had decided to let Padfoot come out to play and was now using the ball-up remains of Remus' potions essay (oh well. It was only a first draft. Now.) to play fetch with James. The golden eyed boy shuddered. Didn't it ever occur to them that dog feet on hardwood floors sounds like nothing else in the world? No, probably not. They probably didn't even know what was so important about hardwood floors. Sirius had probably never known any other kind and James and Peter were the unfortunate sort to think it was just wood.
It had to be the impending end of term, Remus decided, closing this potions book and watching the game. Only he realized that the arrival of spring also meant the arrival of allergies and term papers and exams and dozens of other awful things. And going home. Away from Sirius and James and Peter and Sirius! Although, to be fair, end of term meant a family vacation with all the Pettigrew cousins for Peter and a full season of wrecking havoc on muggle and wizarding girls alike for James and Sirius. Remus thought it was unfair to be jealous of a boy who got kicked out (okay, left) his home and could never return, but he was anyways. He shook his head.
"Hey, Moony!" called James, breaking the cycle of aimlessly related thoughts. "Are you just going to watch all day?" He threw the paper ball and laughed as Padfoot bounded over to retrieve it.
"No," said Remus with a smirk as he levitated the former essay a full three and a half feet above Sirius' head. "I am going to be responsible."
"That's no fun," said the newly-boy sixth year as he grabbed the crumpled ball again.
"You stole my essay-"
"It wasn't really stealing," interrupted James. "You were swearing about how you got an ink splot on it and-"
"Yeah!" yelped Sirius. "It was hardly stealing but-"
"I don't think splot even qualifies as a word-" began Remus.
"I could always just take this!" yelled Sirius as he dove for Remus' wand and promptly ran out the door with the piece of wood.
"Bugger," spat Remus, sprinting after the other boy. He chased him through the common room, out the portrait hole, and down three hallways before Sirius abruptly stopped. "I don't think it's at all fair-"
"Shut up." Sirius cast a quick silencing charm around them. "I've got the wand that that means I do the talking."
"Isn't that a little like a muggle therapy-"
"Shut up!" yelled Sirius, eyes jerking frantically around the corridor. "Anyway, I've been feeling all funny lately and-"
"I've noticed," broke in Remus.
"I said shut up! Twice!" said Sirius, gesturing wildly and nearly taking out Remus' eye with his own wand. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Anyways, I've been all fucking happy whenever you're around, like everything's just bloody perfect which makes no sense whatsoever because we're leaving soon and we won't see each other for months and that isn't important because it happens every year but it is, important, and all I think about is you all the time, like in hallways and in class and that's not such a surprise but it's during practice too and at lunch and at dinner and at breakfast and when I wake up and when I'm not thinking about anything and even when I'm Padfoot and he doesn't even think like us and I don't even know why and I don't even want it to stop," he said in one big breath.
"Sirius, I-"
"You know what, Moony? Shut up," said Sirius and then his lips were on Remus'. It was sloppy and slurpy with tongues in all the wrong places and noses smashed up too close. But somewhere between leaning in and twining his fingers in Sirius' girly-too-long-never-brushed-Moony-where's-my-comb hair, he never wanted it to stop, either.