Of all peculiar positions to be found in, this would be the one I'd prefer the least. I suppose it's best that it was James that found Remus and myself, limbs entangled and hair mussed, lying asleep partially on and partially off of the Common Room sofa.

At first it was all so fabulous. I was curled up around something warm and comforting, absently stroking something silky that entwined marvelously about my fingers. The next there was heavy guffawing and numerous flashing lights. Needless to say, it woke me up.

The precise moment of fully awakening was when I discovered that the object I was preening in my sleep was a human who was still lost in his dreams. This didn't last for long, as I gave a squawk of sorts and sent him toppling, covers and all, to the floor. He landed with a thump and a squeak (not quite as graceful as my squawk).

Remus peered up imploringly at me, then caught sight of James, who was still clicking his stupid camera. His expression went from something that resembled hurt to complete detachment. He stood, straightened his tie, ran his fingers through his hair, and then looked at me as though awaiting an explanation.

Me. Why do they always look to me for the explanation. Do they think I am excellent at explaining things? I always manage to make things worse!

"I see the two of you were enjoying yourselves last night." James said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. I could feel myself growing red.

"Yes, James," Remus said in a voice dripping with cynical sarcasm, "that's exactly what we were doing. The both of us consumed a love potion that had such strong side-effects that we were soon wrapped in one another's arms, desperately clinging to one another in the false love of it all. Oh drat, I cannot fathom that you found us." Remus' tone was bitter to the point where it was almost an aggressive attack.

"Aw, Remus, you're no fun!" James said, finally putting a halt to his photography.

I was a bit disconcerted at the mood Remus was in. It was unexpected, he was always such a soft-spoken person. My mind wandered a bit, and I discovered the pleasant concept of holding him tight, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words into his ear, so that it tickled and he would shiver, and I'd hold him all the tighter...

It seemed, however, that the potion had worn off for Remus. His expression wasn't in the least pleasant, and he wouldn't even make eye contact with me. Of course, the werewolf's hair was mussed from a night of sleeping on a couch, and his clothes were a bit off-center. Rather than make him look disorderly, I found it so attractive I nearly stood to snog him, even with James right there. But I didn't. Remus didn't look up for anything more than strong tea and a nap.

Remus hardly spoke to me for three days. Monosyllable responses, avoided eye-contact. I suppose that to the others it might have been difficult to notice, and it might be that I was just being suspicious, but it wasn't like it was before The Incident.

After three days, everything returned to normal. That night wasn't mentioned at all, even though I ached to remind him of it. There was some elongated effect (potentially an allergic reaction to the potion) that extended the period that I endured it.

Two months later, my stomach still fluttered when he smiled at me. This was a problem. A difficulty. Something that needed to be righted. Remus wasn't helping in the least, doing stupid things like touch my arm as he spoke, grin sheepishly while tucking a strand of hair behind his small ears, whisper to me while everyone was sleeping. It was impossible. I couldn't go to the nurse, either, explaining to her that I had potion-induced love for my best friend, could she please make it stop? Part of me didn't want to go, either. I rather enjoyed these feelings I had for Remus.

During this time, I noticed several significant things about Remus.

I strongly suspect he has a chocolate fetish. Whenever he eats sweets, he does it so tenderly, so lovingly, that I suspect there is more than the usual consumption going on there. Remus also hordes said sweets. Indeed, I have come across them in his pillow case, under his bed and hid in balled up clean socks. He goes to such an extent to avoid being asked to share.

Remus Lupin writes his name with a flourish. He takes special care in the 'R' in Remus and the 'L' in Lupin, deliberately slow and adding to the curves so that they dip and glide, and the quill falls in such neat strokes that it's almost artwork compared to the hasty scribbling of my own name.

He bathes longer than any human I've ever met, sometimes disappearing into the baths for hours, a good book tucked under his arm. And he always returns in a particularly good mood. This is when we find it most successful to ask him for help with homework.

You get the idea. One becomes much more observant when they are under a potion-induced love. And Remus was my love, and I admired him and adored him and wanted to kiss him and kiss him as we had that one night.

Except I didn't.

Eventually, though, I did have a talk with him. I really hadn't planned it, but it just worked out that James and Peter were out of the dorms at the moment, and Remus and I were alone. The two of us. Together.

"Remus," I said, having every intention of telling him that he had this one strand of hair that stood up above the rest and it looked rather silly. Really, that boy could never keep his hair in line! "That potion... hasn't worn off." Is what came out. Bloody mouth, speaking without my permission!

"Oh?" Remus said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Erm, yes."

Remus smiled. The corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly, in a manner that suggested he knew something I didn't. "Sirius, are you certain it's the potion?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied automatically.

"It isn't." Remus said, starting to make his bed.

"What?"

"You're not under the effects of a potion. You never were. Can you get the other side?" He said, gesturing to the untidy sheets. I moved over to help him without really thinking. My brain seemed to be running underwater. Trying it's best, but not really getting anywhere.

"How do you know I wasn't under the effects of the potion?" I asked. "Severus made it in the first place."

"Because I made the potion, and I never gave any of it to you." Now, rather than look confident as he had at the start of this abrupt and rather startling conversation, he looked sheepish and a bit frightened.

"Oh." This didn't exactly make sense. If he didn't give me the potion, then why the hell was I in love with him? Natural love doesn't come about quite so suddenly, that's just the work of imaginative authors. Real life doesn't have such random epiphanies of love. I told Remus as much.

At this point, the boy sat down upon his still unmade bed, his head lowered. "It's a psychology thing. You didn't notice subconscious feelings until they were shoved into your face, made believable."

I gaped.

Then that one night... that was all...

I sat down as well. Remus stood; paced.

"Oh." I said again.

To be perfectly honest, I wasn't as shocked as I should have been. Alright, so I realized I was queer. I realized that my feelings for Remus weren't, actually, potion-induced. But it wasn't really all that shocking. In fact, I didn't feel very different. Rather than be angry, I actually felt pretty bad for Remus, who knew what was going on all along and wasn't able to bring himself to say anything.

I wonder if he felt the same way about me. Why else would he make a love potion?

I asked him.

In response, I got a soft smile.

Suddenly feeling very responsible for Remus, I stood so that I was very close to him, and then tucked that rebellious strand back into place.

The only plausible thing to do after that would be to kiss him.

So I did.

And it was bliss.