Remus opened his eyes to a coruscating light and nearly laughed, thinking of that hackneyed Muggle concept of "near death" and wondering if it was worth the effort to move toward the white. But then a splash of color began to bleed into the center of things and a dull pain somewhere in his body gave proof of life. As his field of vision came into focus, as the sharp lines of Severus Snape battled the blurry morning senses, Remus did laugh, if only quietly and to himself.

"Well, that was unexpected," he mused aloud, having entertained the notion, just before he had passed out on the bathroom floor, that the next person he would see would either be Sirius Black, chiding him for not having put on his cloak, or James Potter, welcoming him home.

"I'd say," answered Snape, though they both knew they were referring to different things. "I didn't think you'd have the capacity for speech. It's a pity you're so resilient," Snape continued, allowing a brief strain at the borders of his mouth to indicate that he was being sarcastic on most levels.

"You should have let the silver run its course," Remus said. "Macnair might suspect I've had help."

"He'll know you've had help, but he'll know better than to accuse me of saving your life. Or perhaps he'll assume that you've built up a tolerance to silver, which we all know from the last war is possible."

"How bad was it?" Remus asked, moving his hand towards the wound and finding a bandage there.

"It still is a matter of concern for those who care for and about your wellbeing," Snape answered. "Thank God it's the summer. The students would have been in a frenzy, having you in the infirmary for two weeks."

"Two weeks!" Remus exclaimed, before a brief coughing fit seized him.

"Calm yourself, I administered the Wolfsbane Potion while you were unconscious, though I am surprised that you didn't wake up for the transformation. I was under the impression that it was still rather painful, even with the Potion." Snape wasn't surprised at the ease with which he spoke to Lupin. It was a simple thing to do when he elevated it to a matter of intellectual curiosity. As long as the two were alone, it was easy for him to forget that he was speaking to a dark creature.

"It is," Remus confirmed. "Please don't tell me I owe you my life. I don't think I could withstand the guilt."

"I won't tell you that, but I am holding the fact over a very resentful dog of yours who is now torn between licking my fingers and biting my head off, so to speak," Snape smirked.

"Where is he?" Remus sighed, relieved that Sirius hadn't gone off and done something foolish and painful to Macnair, but apprehensive of speaking to him. Sirius would just berate him for being so selfless, Remus would have to defend himself by saying that it was just an acceptance of reality, Sirius would scoff and then point out the fact that Remus had dismissed the hurt his friends would have felt if he had died. Sirius wouldn't point out the fact that this oversight put him and Remus on the same level, but they'd both know that it did and Remus had so enjoyed having the upper hand in the situation.

"In the library," Snape answered. He then left without a word, leaving Remus to wonder if the Potions Master would fetch Sirius for him. Probably, given the opportunity he had to taunt the man.

"I really detest that man!"

That answers that question.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked, pulling up a chair to sit beside Lupin's bed. Remus took in his friend's state, the nervous darting of his eyes towards Remus's wound, the haggard face, the panic line still visible but receding.

"I'm fine. I'm actually surprised that I still have the wound. Normally my transformation heals all pre-existing scrapes. It usually causes enough new ones to make up for it though, so as not to spoil me."

"Poppy thinks the strain of the change aggravated it. Snape thinks that all of the different potions in your body that were used to keep you alive must have had some effect on the Wolfsbane Potion or the transformation itself. He's got Dumbledore all excited by the possibility that a non-lethal dose of silver before the full moon might be able to do something to…well, I don't know what the hell they were talking about, to be honest. I was preoccupied," Sirius concluded.

"I hope you were preoccupied with apologizing to the Fat Lady, since you are here and you owe her something for all the trouble you caused that year" Remus smiled, while carefully removing the bandage to inspect the wound. It looked now like a mere scratch, and Remus was relieved that he wouldn't have one more scar. They may give a man character, but too many and it's hard to explain them away. Not that he'd had to in recent years.

"She'll get over it. I was busy worrying over you, thinking about some things, doing homework for Dumbledore, and worrying over you some more."

"I'm touched that I'm listed twice in there," Remus grinned, easing himself into a more comfortable sitting position, wincing as the sheets grazed a superficial but painful scratch that came from God knows where. "What were the things you were thinking about?" Remus asked, shooing away the hand Sirius offered when he saw the struggle to become more vertical.

"I was wondering why you asked if I could have doubted James," Sirius answered. "But then I figured it out and I was wondering how I could have buggered things up so much that you'd think he ever meant more to me than you do."

Remus was floored. He'd been operating under the idea that Sirius's preference wasn't something assumed. It was a bloody fact! It was one of the foundations of the Marauders Hierarchy. James Potter. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew. Always in that order, even before the disclosure of his condition. It was based on looks, talent, personality, strengths, weaknesses, failings, habits, curses, whatever it is that determines someone's worth. And apart from the abstract, it was a component of daily life, when it wasn't the four of them as one. James and Sirius together, Peter following them at a distance that allowed for visibility but precluded being seen as an annoyance, and Remus, alone. That's how it had always been, even after graduation. It was something by which Remus judged himself, on those few occasions when he looked in the mirror. When Sirius had been guilty, it was "I'm third, one notch below a murderer." When it became Peter, it was "I'm third, just one step above a traitor and murderer." It was this fact that held his entire schema together. How could he have been wrong?

"Sirius, you don't have to say this. I know you always favored James, but that didn't take away from the value I set on our own friendship, so you don't have to pretend," Remus said, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn't asking to hear a flattering lie.

"But Remus, I didn't-"

"Sirius, I mean it. Don't. James always was the better best friend. It was easy to love him. You didn't have to work at it. It wasn't as painful. Though looking back now, I suppose it turned out to be. But when he was here, it was-"

"Easier?"

"Less complicated."

"Simple even."

"Yes."

"Yes. I can see it now. So logical. But that was always your cup of tea, Moony. Of course, I see it now. James would have been a lower maintenance best friend."

"Would have?"

"Don't make me say it, Moony," Sirius whispered.

"What?" Remus asked, still confused as to what, exactly, Sirius was failing to say.

"I love you."

"But I knew that."

"And I loved you more." There. It hurt like hell, but he'd said it. It hurt even more that it needed to be said. That Remus hadn't already known. James was a wonderful man and Sirius would have died for him. Would have killed for him too. But when it was quieter and life wasn't hanging in the balance, Sirius would have gone to Remus if he wanted to vent about a bad day or if he wanted to relax and laugh and have fun. He and James were so much alike, apart from James's greater command of logic and Sirius's weaker grip on his anger. They had the same sense of humor, same opinion on most things, same upbringing, same hair color. All of these shared traits made what they had together seem like it was more. Invincible. But with Remus, he was always reaching. It wasn't a given that they'd be friends forever and never fall. For whatever reason, Sirius had always needed that allure of chance. He was addicted to the challenge of reconciling who Remus was with what he became once the moon was full. He was addicted to the challenge of making Remus laugh or lose his guard. And Remus had more to give in return. He'd have died for him, whereas James had other things to live for. That did not make James a lesser friend, only Remus a greater one. As selfish as it felt, Sirius was glad that Remus needed him so much.

"But you were always with James!"

"No, you always went off by yourself and I got bored and, you have to agree with me here, James is a hell of a lot more interesting than Peter."

"You were his best man! You're Harry's godfather!"

"Is it my fault everyone loves me?" Sirius smiled. "Don't get me wrong, Remus. I loved James. He was one of my best friends and I'm honored that I was his. But in the unlikely event that I had to choose between the two of you, you'd have won."

"Why?" Remus wondered aloud.

"I'm not going to feed your ego after the stupid thing you did," Sirius answered sternly. "But since you've already played out the whole argument in your head before I even entered the room, I'll leave it alone, save for a warning that it better not happen again."

"Don't get telepathic on me," Remus mumbled.

"Now who's being immature?" Sirius laughed.

"I refuse to believe that my entire life since age eleven has been based on a misunderstanding!" Remus scowled, wanting nothing more than to be happy about the reassessment of his worth but needing to make sure that it wasn't a ploy for whatever it was Sirius wanted from him.

"Does this news make you happier or sadder?"

"Why would it make me sadder?"

"Because, before, I'd only doubted a good friend. Now you know I doubted my best friend. Not to mention the fact that we both have to come to terms with the fact that we don't know each other half as well as we ought to."

"Sirius, I don't know exactly what to feel about all of this, but I do know that sadness is nonexistent in the equation," Remus answered. In truth, he thought that the whole thing oughtn't make a damn bit of difference. The two men were still the same as they had been when they woke up this morning. It was just that now the connection between them wasn't so linear. It wasn't a downward slope from Sirius to Remus, an uphill battle, a tedious and continuous process of reaching and climbing and struggling to find a foothold, only to slip back to where you started, or even lower. And it wasn't a case of lycanthropy balancing out impetuosity, because the field was suddenly clear of all ideas that these traits made the man, or could exist outside the man. But what did it all mean? They were grown now, less dependent on social connections, strong enough in their individuality to exist outside the pair. What did it matter that two friends now knew they were regarded as supreme in each other's eyes? What did it matter that James Potter's best friend liked someone else a bit more? What did it matter that Sirius Black had momentarily lost faith in his best friend? What did it matter that Remus Lupin had been proven wrong in thinking he was second choice? What did it matter that Peter Pettigrew was beneath consideration? Nothing, really. Or everything. Or nothing.

"So you're not upset? Then I demand to know why you don't look ecstatic about having magical me for a best friend!"

"Now you really sound like Lockhart."

"Take it back."

"Don't think I will."

The End

A/N: I never intended this story to make it past the first chapter, so I'm ending it here in hopes that I've don justice to this complex relationship. To my reviewers, thank you. To J.K. Rowling, thank you.