A big THANKS to those who have stepped out on that limb and read my 'diversion story'. An ever bigger THANKS to those who have left me a review. This has been an exercise in creativity for me since I haven't really written quite this way before. This has been fun. Who knows...I might just do it again...

Sirius POV

I missed him when he left for school, I'll admit, though I hated to. The morning he left with the other kids, I told myself that it was no big deal, that he'd be back for the holidays in no time. Unfortunately I knew each day would drag by and that I would roam around the house like a jilted lover searching for something to take my mind off of what was gone.

And that's exactly what I did. I had to watch myself though and make sure my behavior didn't attract any attention. I mentally kicked myself in the ass, of course. I was being silly. But I couldn't help it. I just enjoyed his company so much, even without the physical. I know many wouldn't believe it, but I missed him like I'd missed James when he died and Remus when I'd been sent to Azkaban, and that's saying something. I felt almost empty without him.

I did get a couple owls while he was gone, asking about situations with Hermione, just like our evening chats. I was deeply comforted by the fact that he was thinking about me. Did I dare think he missed our time together as well? The idea did brighten my days and nights.

When he did finally return, we picked up right where we'd left off. We didn't greet each other more than a friendly wave when he arrived initially, but he came to my room that night to chat, and every night after that over the holidays. My day wasn't truly complete without this precious time with him. I'd slept better the past few months than I had a few years previous. He seemed to have this calming effect on me and I didn't think anyone could do that.

I remember the night he reached for me for the first time. I'd been naked when he'd crawled into bed with me, sort of my unspoken permission if he wanted to touch me. After I'd stroked him to climax, his fingers began tentatively at my chest and slowly worked their way down until he began to hesitantly slide his hand up and down my length. He'd never done that before and my eyes rolled back into my head from his touch. He was a little awkward and his timing was slightly off, but I didn't care. I'm sure that I was the first man he'd touched and…well…practice made perfect after all, right? I remember lying spent in each other's arms afterwards for what seemed at least an hour before he left my side. I never moved away from him or ever indicated when he should go. He just left. It always seemed the right time.

The look on his face the next day was inquisitive. I saw it when our eyes met across the hall. That night during our chat, he'd asked about oral sex and it was then that I understood the expressions I'd seen during the day and his desire to touch me the night before. Shouldn't I, a responsible adult, have stopped what would certainly be regarded as highly inappropriate behavior?

I couldn't. He was my vice, but in a good way. You know, some people drank. Some people smoked. I was becoming addicted to how he made me feel both when he was around and when he wasn't. I couldn't say that about anyone else. He was so much more than just a 'lover'. I couldn't consider him just my 'best friend' either. He was my confidant, my stronghold, my security and my hope at a time in my life where I had little confidence, less strength, non-existent security and diminished hopes.

How did one place a title on all those things? One didn't. One just held it to one's heart for as long as possible, knowing it could be gone in an instant.

And of course, clickie clickie on the link...yet another banner. I know, I know. I can hear it now. "Do you have no life?"

And the answer to that is...NOPE. LOL