Of scissors, glue and paper hearts

by jennygiraffadil

They fall in love with the seasons. And then with each other. It's been there all along, but it takes a year of changing for them to realise it.

Title: Of scissors, glue and paper hearts.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius.
Disclaimer: I wish.
Summary: They fall in love with the seasons. And then with each other. It's been there all along, but it takes a year of changing for them to realise it.
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i.
Sirius's bed lay open by the window with the broken catch. They'd noticed it right away but nobody had mentioned fixing it; despite the thick chill that spilled through the room during midwinter. James's and Peter's beds were the furthest away - crashed against the back wall, either side of the bathroom door. And so long as Sirius said he was fine with it, they left it as was, too. For convenience, they'd laughed. It was easier to shoot curses at wandtip through a broken one than from one that had to be lugged open. So it was okay.

Sirius would pull out extra bedding when it hit the end of November and they'd all smirk. Deep red and incredibly inviting. He'd raise his brows as he crumpled it over the edges and call it "toasty". Then they'd all grin secretively when Peter asked "where?".

It was never until the second week of Christmas that Sirius would find Remus crawling into bed with him. And his body was always still and freezing. And he'd wriggle and writhe and twist his back into the most awkward angles in his sleep. He'd wake up - Sirius - when he felt the gentle dip of the mattress beside him and he'd just smile. He never said anything, neither of them did, and he almost thought Remus still assumed he didn't know. But he'd just smile, turn over on his side and wrap his arms tightly around the shivering body and they'd fall asleep like that until the spring came.

"What's your favourite season?" a girl had asked Sirius once. She was small and slight but with a slightly swelled stomach and bright green eyes. They were sitting on the stairs just outside the tower and she was leaning against him, breathing into his shirt.

"Winter," he said with a smile, glancing down the stairs, "because it's warm in all the right places." The girl nodded against him and placed her lips to his neck. He tilted his head and kissed her back firmly. And nobody needed to know he was even thinking about Remus.

ii.
The first Hogsmeade visit of the year was always the best, James would say, set just after the snow had come and left but before the blistering heat of summer that pounded inside heads and beind eyes. It was slow and steady and damp and new. And Lily always wore that deep green jumper that made him want to sink into her eyes.

Peter enjoyed it too - for the sweets. And after their first year there he'd managed to ritually save up his Christmas money from Aunts and Uncles to splurge it all over Honeydukes and (occasionally) Zonko's when they got back. Only if they ran out of his favourite chocolate, or it was too busy to take in the smell of exploding candy or slightly burnt newts.

And it felt like home. Like these really could be the days that were worth savouring, looking back on and cringing at how awkward and young they really were. But smiling in amazement at how perfectly they all fit, anyway.

Remus would lag behind slightly when they all rushed ahead. Watching his footprints disappearing slowly into a new season, trailing watermarks around the edges of his thick tread boots. He could never afford what his friends could and didn't really like the first visit as much. They would all run off like overexcited children and come back smelling of chocolate and money and growth. And he'd stand outside the shop trying not to get caught up in a wift of sugar, tightening his hand around the few knuts and sickles in his pocket that were getting him through the year.

Then Sirius would smile and mildew and flowers would hit the back of his throat and he'd almost choke. And Sirius would hand him a huge bar, wrapped up tightly in brown paper and ribbons and glue.

"Happy Birthday!" Sirius would grin and Remus would take it hesitantly. James and Peter would nudge each other in the background until James nudged back too hard, again, and Peter's nose would bleed.

"It's not my birthday for another eleven days," Remus would say, chewing the loose skin on the inside of his lip. It'd sting and sometimes bleed and Sirius would smile again. And he'd almost think about stopping.

"If the Queen of England can have two birthdays, so can you!" he would add, and his voice would almost break and almost stutter and almost fall into Remus's as he laughed.

"Since when do you read muggle stuff?" Remus would ask.

"Since I met you," Sirius would reply, shake his head and then mutter under his breath.

"Since I have nothing else to do when my parents lock me in my room over the holidays."

"You had visitors." Remus would comment and their eyes would meet.

Remus would try and give the chocolate back and they'd end up sprawled across the damp grass just outside of town before sunset with it seperating their bodies so exactly. Just incase.

iii.
They almost fall in love in summer, with it's high sun and long days. The tree just by the lake invites them every year and they find themselves collapsed barely in it's shade before the strong wave of heat takes over. Not that English Summers are much to be expected, but it's warm enough, sometimes, for no cloaks. And if they're really lucky, no ties or shirts.

Remus leans back against the thick bark of the tree, grating against him, and reads. Or tries to read. Sirius always sits beside him or sprawls over him with his head in his lap or pressing into his stomach or his side. And both fold their legs together and try not to think too much about it when shadows disappear into the grass.

James and Sirius try to prank the squid every year. And every year they end up pushing themselves up through the water and laughing as they run the whole way back in soaking wet clothes.

"Didn't work again?" Remus laughs and Sirius shakes his hair all over him before wringing out his shirt and pulling it off over sculptured shoulders with only the faintest of scars running down his lower spine.

Remus watches him over the top of his book and his fingers twitch and twist against the pages.

James uses a drying charm. But Sirius always strips off. And sits right up close to Remus, transifguring a towel from acorns.

"Dry my hair?" he asks and Remus carefully folds his page before placing his book on the ground. And Sirius sits inbetween his legs and they can both feel it. Pounding, echoing, screaming between their bodies.

Sirius moves back as Remus moves forward and they both bite their lips. Remus's hands stick in Sirius's hair and the towel falls until Peter looks at them oddly and they laugh in awkward bursts.

Remus places the towel over his lap then. And Sirius's head follows. And sometimes lips brush skin when the dark comes and nobody is around. And sometimes hearts brush when everyone is. But they pack up their things and walk back to the tower as if nothing happened.

As if they didn't almost just fall in love. As if they didn't just catch themselves before it started to hurt.

iv.
It started in autumn. It almost started in autumn With leaves scattered, burning colours, and just a breeze that lifted hair and skirts. Sirius would walk through the grounds at night under the invisibility cloak and Remus would join him. Hands pressed to hands, knuckles almost brushing, and hips squeezing stomachs into tight knots and uncomfortable aches. But it was always beautiful. Jumping in leaf piles, wrestling down the hills and laughing like they hadn't grown up at all.

And when they almost kissed under the bare branches of the old oak tree - when Sirius pushed Remus right up against it, and when their hips met like hearts and lips - they realised they really hadn't.

The cloak pooled around their feet as palms pressed into trousers. Into shirts. Into the hollow of throats and damp teeth.

"What are we doing?" Remus hissed through a deep breath and he felt the muscles of Sirius's back arch up into him.

"Going with the flow," Sirius whispered back, fighting feebly to feel everything at once. His fingerprints pressed against Remus's thighs and pushed the thick material of his jeans down past his knees.

Remus moaned. And screamed. And gasped. And Sirius's name had never felt so wrong until the dark.

"The flow?" he asked and his eyes stung.

"The flow. This is the flow for us." Sirius confirmed, crashing their teeth together again.

v.
"Arithmancy," James laughed, lying on his back on his bed, flipping through a textbook that smelt just like Lily's perfume and hair, "Apparently," he grinned, "According to something called the Agrippan Method, you two should have been dating for years."

Remus didn't say anything but Sirius snorted and almost laughed.

"What?" he asked. And James grinned.

"You're both sevens." James continued, his feet pressing against the wall as his head hung barely over the edge of the bed as he read, "And you should arrange your life by your character number. Which is seven. So, effectively, you're perfect for each other. Or something."

"Oh," Remus chirped and his cheeks were almost flushed. And his eyes were almost too bright.

"Obviously," Sirius laughed and they all turned to look at him, "Come on, I've been saying it for years."

He glanced at Remus across the room and the two shared a shy smile.

vi.
"I want to fall in love with you," Sirius whispered, and it was cold. Their hands met under warm sheets and their breathing laced together into the same mismatched pattern.

Remus smiled and curled up against his side, barely shutting his eyes. And the moonlight stung their skin.

"Can I?" Sirius asked, suddenly, and he sat up.

Remus reached out and took his hand.

"I want to fall in love with you, too," he murmured softly.

And their hearts ached in the most beautiful way they had ever known.

It was only winter.