An Interesting Thing
Love, Sirius thought, was an interesting thing. It was particularly human—it was good and bad, black and white, human and oh-so-not. It was blind and all-seeing, and delicate and stronger than any steel.
Love was heartrendingly, terribly, beautiful.
Deep thoughts for Padfoot, certainly. Swinging his legs over the edge of the tree branch he perched on, he wondered about all that.
The Greeks, he knew, had different levels of love, agape and eros and some other fancy-sounding Greek names. His Classicist tutor had gone on and on about them during the summer of his fourth year, a tender look in his eyes as he explained each level. He'd only paid enough attention that should his mother or father quiz him, he could answer correctly, and thus avoid a hexing.
He relaxed, and swung around to lean on his branch, one leg resting on the other knee, reclining against the gentle curve of the old ash tree. Sunshine dappled his face and form, golden dots against the Gryffindor tie and white dress shirt. His long, curly black hair trailed over the edge and swung lightly in the breeze.
Sixth year was drawing to an end, and he did not want to return to London. There was no love in that house, no tolerance for human emotion and feeling. Only conformity and ice.
There was a gentle tug on his hair, and he turned, spotting Remus standing below him, "Hey you, with the girly hair, want lunch?"
A smile, "Sure babe. Wanna accompany me?"
Remus blushed, "'Babe?' I'm not Nicolette, Padfoot."
"Done with her."
"So? Still doesn't mean you should call me that."
He shrugged, and rolled off the branch, landing with perfect, fluid grace, on his feet. Remus swallowed hard, trying not to look at his friend, trying not to notice the way he moved, like a cat.
"I'll call you what I like, Mooney. You decide what you'll answer to."
Remus had to admit that Padfoot was far more intelligent than he ever let on. With a sigh, he lead Sirius up to the hall.
Sirius, for his part, walked slightly behind Remus, choosing to enjoy the view. Remus was slim and lithe, and Sirius considered him very easy on the eyes. Curly golden-brown hair framed a pale face with golden eyes. Both the color of a well done cookie, Padfoot smirked to himself.
On impulse, he reached forward and gently tugged Remus around to face him, before they had left 'their' copse of trees.
"What?"
"Just this," Sirius said with a shrug, pressing Remus against an ancient oak, and kissing him. The kiss was nothing like Remus would have guessed, had he dared to hope for one. He would have expected a bruising, forceful, brief kiss. Not the gentle, slow, long one that he got.
When they finally had to breathe, Sirius added another thought to his opinions on love. It did not matter what you who you loved was; all that mattered was that you did.
A/N: Repeat of some themes.