Remus fiddles with the tassels on the end of his scarf. He doesn't know why he's still wearing it — it's warm in the Three Broomsticks, and people are packed from end to end, radiating heat — but he doesn't feel warm. Not one bit. He'd always been sensitive to the cold.

He'd managed to snag a table just before the afternoon rush, and it's not a bad table, all things considered, but that's not what he's worried about.

He runs through the list of possible scenarios. He got hit by the Knight Bus. Slytherins cornered him as he was leaving. He was accosted by a pretty girl who's got eyes for him —

"Remus!"

Remus' head shoots up, his terrible train of thoughts cutting off abruptly. He's here. He's battling through the throng of patrons, but he's here.

"Sorry I'm late," Sirius huffs as he pushes through the last pair of students and sits in the chair across from Remus. He pulls off his gloves, unwinds his scarf, sets them aside. "Lily caught me just as I was in the entrance hall."

"What did she want?"

"She wants to know what James' Christmas gift is," Sirius says, sounding amused. "Some bloody competition they have going on. Naturally, I told her everything."

"You traitor." There is no bite in Remus' tone, and his grin betrays his words. "James will turn your hair pink for this."

"It's entertaining seeing her kick his ass from time to time," he says. "And besides, we all know I look fabulous with pink hair."

This is going well. Better than Remus had thought, but there is just one thing missing. They're talking as though they are just friends. There is no underlying layer of heat.

"Yeah," Remus says, his mouth dry. "Yeah, you do. He needs to come up with more inventive threats."

"Nah, I'll let him keep thinking that it works," Sirius says, smirking. "Prevents him from using worse threats."

"Clever." Remus plays with the tassels again, biting his lip. There is a noticeable lack of bite this time too, except Sirius's expression falls. He peers at Remus.

"Something wrong?"

"No." Remus shakes his head vehemently, but there is no conviction. "I'm fine."

Sirius' grey eyes are slightly wide and he reaches across the table, resting his hand on Remus' occupied hand. He stops twirling the tassels immediately.

"I know you're lying," he murmurs. "You always play with the tassels when you're anxious about something. What's wrong?"

Remus hesitates. It's almost embarrassing to admit to, but then again, this is Sirius. Sirius Black, Padfoot, the bloke he trusts most in the world.

"This doesn't seem like a date," he confesses, lowering his eyes to the mug of butterbeer before him. "It doesn't feel like — like there is a spark. Anyone could look at us and think that we're just friends."

"We are friends." Now Sirius is looking at him in a way that makes his heart flutter. "That's why this is going so smoothly. In the end, we are and always be friends — but friends who like to snog on occasion. I think that's a pretty solid foundation for our relationship. We're still keeping the promises we made when we were eleven."

"But what if something happens to us? Will we still be friends?"

"That…" Sirius sits back, eyebrows drawing together. "That...is...I don't know. But what I do know is that I don't intend upon letting that happen." He winks and Remus feels heat rising to his cheeks.

"Careful," he teases, "someone might think that you're being controlling."

As they descend into another round of banter, Remus can't help but think that Sirius is right. They are friends, first and foremost — but if he were to pull Remus into a broom closet sometime...well, Remus will not be opposed.


640 words

Auction [For Gryffindor] - D23A1 - Scarf