Disclaimer: Let's get this straight. I don't own Harry Potter. Chances are, you don't either. Now that we've settled that, we can move on with our lives.
Warmth
Sirius was alone in the common room on a frigid December afternoon. Never the type to sit quietly, he was pacing back and forth, devising a plot to ambush James in the next battle of their epic snowball war. He had just come up with the most amazing and infallible plan EVER (involving pink elephants, a horde of fire-breathing paper snitches, and a pair of McGonagall's socks) when who should walk in but Remus Lupin, his dear friend and comrade.
"Afternoon, Moony!" Being the wonderfully astute person that he was, Sirius noted that something was different about his pal. "Why, you're all wet! What happened to you?"
"What happened?" Sirius looked closely at Lupin's face. Upon discovering that his friend looked royally pissed, Sirius began racking his brain for anything that he might have done to upset his lycanthropic buddy. Nothing involving water, certainly. There had been the odd transfiguration of body parts, a few charmed objects singing obnoxious songs here and there, but no water. That was child's play. Absolutely confident of his innocence, Sirius smiled at his friend, cocking his head in a curious fashion.
His oh-so-charming smile was rewarded with a menacing glare. Lupin, in a dangerously low voice, seethed, "Well, Padfoot, what happened was that you and your fellow moron James Potter thought it would be a terribly clever idea to host a snowball fight out by the quidditch pitch."
Oh, shit.
Lupin continued. "And, because you are both bloody brilliant, you decided to enchant the snow so it couldn't be charmed away, to ensure 'fairness' in your little fight. However, in a lack of coordination rarely seen from quidditch players, you managed to miss every single throw. Instead, you managed to hit an innocent bystander who was napping twenty feet away beneath a tree. What's more, you knocked the snow out of the branches and onto the bystander, effectively turning him into a snowman." He paused. "Do you know who that bystander was, Sirius?"
Sirius gulped, suspecting that he knew the answer. "Who?"
A snarl. "Me! So now, I am soaked to the bone, I am freezing, and I can't even transfigure the snow away because of your bloody enchantments. Therefore, if you don't mind, I am going to sit myself down in front of the fireplace in hopes of retrieving some of the warmth that I am fairly certain human beings are supposed to possess." With that, he huffed off and plopped himself down directly in front of the fire.
Watching his friend shiver, Sirius felt a twinge of guilt. Remus really did look pale and sickly. His health was frail at the best of times to to his condition, so being drenched in the middle of a snowstorm was probably not the most fortuitous thing in the world. Sirius, being the amazing friend that he was, decided that he would help his fellow Marauder recover. This decided, he waltzed over to the fireplace, settled himself on the floor, and pulled Remus Lupin into his lap.
The boy in his arms froze. He turned to Sirius, eyebrows raised. "Padfoot?"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing?"
A cheeky smile. "Warming you up, of course."
Lupin sighed. "You're an idiot," he declared, yet made no attempt to move.
Sirius grinned wider and hugged his companion close. Resting his chin on Lupin's shoulder, he whispered softly, "I know."
