We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year's leaves.
-Robert Frost

Autumn had come much too early for Sirius. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it coming. Sirius much preferred summer more. Summer meant eating unordinary amounts of ice cream; it meant swimming and the annual marauders diving competition (where every year someone managed to break an arm or leg). But most importantly, at least to Sirius anyway, was the summer heat. It got so hot at the Potter's in the summer that the Prewett boys from up the street went around town shirtless, which was fine by Sirius.

Sirius scowled as heard James hurry around the house collecting his mitts and scarf. One sign of autumn that Sirius usually looked for was James getting restless. The boy got so antsy around this time of year that Mrs. Potter had been forced, several times, to feed her son a calming potion.

Sirius thought that if he was lucky James might forget he was here in all his excitement, however just as this thought came to mind James ran into the room. He was clutching cream coloured mitts and scarves. He gave Sirius a grin and set about tearing his closet to pieces, searching for his favourite jumper. Sirius had hoped that by now James' mother would have burned the stupid sweater but he had a feeling the offending jumper was still in the back of the closest. It was the ugliest brown sweater Sirius had ever seen, and he had seen lots (Peter's aunt was rather fond of sending them each one at Christmas). It also happened to be to small last time Sirius had seen James wearing it.

And so, to be spiteful, Sirius pointed this out to James who just grinned.

Sirius stared in horror when James pulled out a brand new brown jumper.

"My aunt sent me a new one after she heard mum complaining about how small my old one was." He explained as he wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his mitts.

Sirius shook his head. "Prongs it's not even cold enough for those stupid mitts."

James just smiled.

After much complaining and protest James finally managed to drag Sirius outside.

Glaring at the red and yellow leaves that had prematurely fallen, Sirius followed his best friend towards the backfield. James was headed toward pond even though the water was too cold to swim. Sirius had no doubt James was just mocking him by showing him the chilly water.

When they reached the water edge they just stood there. Sirius felt aggravated; there was no reason that he could see for them being out here. He felt cold standing out there, the summer breeze had turned into an autumn's biting wind.

James sat on the ground, Sirius shuddered, it had rained the night before and James was surely going to be wet when he got up. The eldest Black brother stared at James. His hair looked wind swept, not that it didn't always, and his eyes were closed. Wire rimmed glasses slide down his nose as James let out a contented sigh. Suddenly Sirius felt like he was intruding, on what he wasn't sure. He had never seen his best friend so relaxed and peaceful, Sirius fancied he looked like one of those tragic heroes.

"Aren't you cold?" James asked quietly as Sirius sat down next to him.

Sirius gave him a half-hearted sneer, "No." It was a flat out lie; James could see the goose bumps on the taller boy's arms. When leaving the house Sirius had refused a sweater claiming that if he defied the cold and continued to wear summer clothing autumn would get the hint and leave.

James frowned and gently took Sirius hands, slipping his mitts onto the paler skin. Sirius stared at the silly and childish looking mitts. He couldn't understand why there were no slots for his fingers; he couldn't fathom the reasoning behind confining your fingers in one large slot. How was anyone expected to throw snowballs with these mitts?

When he looked up from his hands he found James staring directly at him. It suddenly felt like his heart had lodged in his throat and his beating rather painfully. This was a new feeling to him; he hated not being in control.

James was leaning closer to him and he suddenly had the terrifying realization that his best friend was going to kiss him. He was truck by the thought that it didn't really bother him, in fact he was anxious and Sirius began to wonder if hadn't wanted this all along.

Closing his eyes Sirius placed a hand on the ground to steady himself as he leaned towards James. Perhaps it was autumn's way of getting back at him for stomping on the leaves rather viciously, or maybe it was just bad luck, either way it didn't mater. Sirius felt a jolt in his stomach as his hand slide on the leaves, causing him to slam his forehead into James' nose. He stared in horror as James let out a grunt and fell backgrounds hitting his head on a rock and causing him to let out a squeal of pain.

"James!" Sirius tried to yell but it came out more like a squawk.

Crawling over to James, Sirius wondered if they sent you to Azkaban for things like accidentally killing your best friend while he was trying to kiss you.

Sirius pulled James up by the arm while the hazel eye boy rubbed the back of his head.

Then, surprising even himself, Sirius lunged forward and kissed James. Later when he would re-tell this story to Remus, he would say it wasn't at all awkward, that he was a natural. There was no mention of clashing teeth and licked chins. But it hadn't mattered to Sirius, because to him and James it had been perfect. Whenever Sirius would look at that spot again after that August afternoon, he would picture two 16-year-old boys-not-quite men awkwardly touching and kissing and just being them.

Six years later as Sirius stared at James' still body, his face frozen, still boyish, he thought James still looked like one of those tragic heroes. Shoving his hands into his pockets to protect them from the October wind, Sirius reflected that autumn was the worst season.