Title: Cannonball

Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Rating: T

Summary: Snippets of Remus and Sirius's relationship, told by Remus as he reminisces, based in the Damien Rice song.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they're products of a genius far greater than mine, or the song either… actually I have to say thanks to LadyBush for quoting it in 'the A to Z of R and S" because it's a really pretty song.

AN: Um… yeah, I'm relatively new to fan fiction and this is my first ever slash fic, so bare with me, it's probably shit.

There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth

There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt

It's still a little hard to say what's going on

There's still a little bit of your ghost your witness

There's still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed

You step a little closer each day

That I can't say what's going on

Stones taught me to fly

Love, it taught me to lie

Life, it taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball

There's still a little bit of your song in my ear

There's still a little bit of your words I long to hear

You step a little closer to me

So close that I can't see what's going on.

Stones taught me to fly

Love taught me to lie

Life taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannon.

Stones taught me to fly

Love, it taught me to cry

So come on courage, teach me to be shy

'Cause it's not hard to fall,

And I don't want to scare her

It's not hard to fall

And I don't want to lose

It's not hard to grow

When you know that you just don't know

There's still a little bit of your taste, in my mouth:

For once, in all our years of Hogwarts, sitting in the hard wooden chairs of a subject you were only ever good at if it involved Snape sprouting horns, the term 'Charms' seemed to fit. My quill was lose in my hand, and I knew, even if nobody else did, that I wouldn't be working any harder in class than you that day. My fingers traced the all too familiar lines of a hurried engraving in the wood of our desk, 'RL for SB'… so many fantasies, so many classes spent dreaming of your face in my hands, your lips on my lips, my fingers tangled in your long black hair… so many prayers, so much time… and yet… just when I thought it was all for nothing…

Your head turned a little, in the studious silence of Flitwik's class, and I saw the glimmer in your big grey eyes, they caught mine and I stopped. My lips grew dry, and I remembered.

Whisky fires in our heads, a hot, dry silence in the near empty common room, your hand on my hand... a thick, sticky heat in the centre of my heart… your eyes fluttering closed, your lips on my lips, your hands in my hair, your tongue on my tongue.

Flitwik coughed and you turned away, I licked my parted lips, there was still a little bit of your taste in my mouth. I saw you swallow out the side of my eye. Could you taste me too?

There's still a little bit of you laced, with my doubt.

You and I always liked Christmas, but never for the same reasons as everyone else. The holidays emptied our dorm like water through sand, gave us time to think, to know, to understand, to do whatever it was that we were doing to each other, without fear of exposure. You were always cheerier in the holidays, knowing that there was nobody around that you felt the need to hide from, you could lie there in my arms and let the real world wash away for a while, embrace who you were and forget who you were supposed to be. But there was an edge to your disposition that Christmas eve, as we sat, your arm around my shoulders my hand in your hand, by the crackling whispering fire. You didn't want to talk, and I wondered if somebody knew.

"Sirius?" My voice was still hoarse from the transformation of the night before.

"Mmm?"

"You're hiding something?"

"Am I?"

"I haven't seen you this tense since… what's wrong?"

"I can't."

"You can."

"No."

"Is it about us?"

"…"

"Sirius."

"I… Moony I don't want to talk about it."

But you didn't really need to, your face was ashen even in the firelight, laced with those same doubts I'd found, and confronted in myself. I knew you, Sirius; I knew what it was, how it felt, and how badly you wanted it to go away. What would your parents say? How would James react? I wanted to open my mouth, let all of my old fears pour out of it in mumbles, to tell you 'not to try to be anything other than what you feel, love can't be restricted by what's right and what's wrong' and that sort of thing, but I couldn't, this was your war, and if you didn't fight yourself to the death about then you'd never learn, that was always your way. You turned to smile at me, relieved, I suppose, at my ability to shut up when necessary, but your eyes are troubled, something in that little crease next to the bridge of your nose… you'd been fighting yourself about this for so long, and there's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt. But I know now, I know that I love you, I don't want girls anymore… I don't want anybody else. I just had to sit patiently, wait for you to come to those same conclusions. It sounds conceited, just presuming your love for me was real, but I didn't need to be told, it was there in your eyes, that same heat, that same fear, that same, ruthless, unyielding need that enveloped my own heart.

"I love you Siri." I whispered into the warmth of your neck, placing gentle kisses on the soft skin there.

"I know." You whispered back, that was all I wanted to hear.

And it's a little hard to say, what's going on:

Your hand in mine is reassurance, though I know your heart is beating even faster than mine. It'll be okay you know? They love us, they love all of us. They won't care too much, you know they won't. But James and Peter are still sitting, frozen to the spot in what you probably mistook to be horror. You want to explain, but the words won't come out, you turn to me, and I turn to them. We all want somebody to break the silence, but none of us wants to be the one to set the ball rolling. James, always the bravest, opens his mouth.

"So… you're…" he begins, but he chokes on the words, you squeeze my hand tighter, and I can feel your pulse like a rampaging bull.

"You're not just… fooling around or anything?" Peter's voice is more stable, his face calmer.

"No." You and I both answer at the same time, I fight a smile.

"Are you… a thing then?" James asks, "An item?"

"Look, James…" You finally speak, and your voice is hushed, a shadow of that beautiful, heart wrenching purr that you use on me sometimes. "I know that this is… weird… and I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but…"

"But the words just won't come out?" James finishes your sentence. "No pun intended."

We laughed, the four of us, this wasn't that hard…

"I suppose you could say that." You smile. "It's a little hard to say what's going on, but, all I know is that I love Moony and he loves me."

"Right…"

"You don't mind, do you?" I ask, your fingers brush the skin on my wrist.

James grins. "Remus, you, Sirius and Peter are my whole world, my best buddies, so what if you're secretly fucking?"

You cough, your cheeks starting to develop that warm, pink glow.

"If you're in love, then we're happy for you. Right Pete?"

Peter is chewing his nails; he nods at us, smiling awkwardly. He's probably remembering that time he found us making out on the couch in the common room and hoping we won't reveal to James that he kept it a secret.

I feel like a weight has been lifted from my chest. I told you didn't I? We'd be fine, we're always fine.

So… yeah, tell me what you think (cough, review!) I've never written anything even mildly close to this before so it's a whole new thing and it's probably shit… but yeah… R and R, or whatever the lingo on here is