Disclaimer;;
I do not own Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or any other character that might show up in the resulting story. They all belong to the lovely J.K. Rowling.
Author's Note;;
Because I'm excited about this story I wrote some more. Not a whole lot happens in this one though. I'll have to do something....more interesting next chapter.
Padfoot sat at the entrance of the Shrieking Shack, cool air drifting in from the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow. Wormtail was lurking somewhere down the cavern, still in his rat shape ready to freeze the treacherous tree. Prongs stood next to Padfoot, antlered head tilted in thought as both watched Remus Lupin tremble in his sleep. The transformation had exhausted the werewolf more than usual. Padfoot suspected this was due to the slight illness he had had for the last two weeks but said nothing. Moony had settled after a night's run and wrestling with Padfoot but Remus…Merlin, he was tired. Padfoot sighed, earning a nudge from Prongs.
Remus stirred, eyes finally opening. Dawn must be approaching, if not already here. Padfoot shifted into Sirius who scrambled for his muddy robes. Prongs did the same and slipped down the tunnel to find Wormtail. Remus sat up on the torn mattress, hands cradling his head. Wounds covered his body, some still bleeding. Sirius came over to him quietly and began to heal the smaller ones with his wounds. It had been a habit before, but now it was a comfort to move his wand and hand over Remus' smooth, scarred back. He couldn't help but notice how…frail his friend was. He was like a china doll. Remus straightened slightly, allowing Sirius to pass his wand over stomach wounds.
Was it terrible that as his wand passed over Remus' chest that he wanted to lean down and suck on that chest until Remus' nipples were hard under his tongue? That he wanted to lick the werewolf's wounds clean, taste the sweat that stained his body? That he wanted to slid a hand onto Remus' thigh and kiss him hard? Let him know that Sirius loved both him and the werewolf?
Did he just say love?
"Robes?" Remus asked, returning to bowing his spine and clutching his head. Sirius stood far too quickly and brought his friend his clothes, helping him when he needed it.
Did he say love?
Sirius frowned as Remus winced at the touch of the robe against a freshly healed cut. No. Surely he liked Remus, as a friend only. But love? No. The werewolf leaned against him for support as the left the Shrieking Shack, frail arm wrapped about Sirius' waist, too tired to reach up for his shoulders. He didn't like Remus like this. Remus wasn't supposed to be too tired to crack a sarcastic joke, to bear a small smile, to something. Sirius helped his friend as best he could, wanting to pull him closer but push him away at the same time. None of this made sense. Confusion ran rampant within his brain and he was glad to see James and Peter at last. The four made their way up to the castle slowly, barely bothering to use the Invisibility Cloak and concentrating more on keeping Remus on his feet.
"He looks awful," Peter said. Remus was settled in the Hospital Wing, asleep again. He had been given a pain draught and a sleeping draught. Dumbledore stood by his bed, watching the seventh year sleep. Sirius looked at Peter and sighed.
"He's been sick and the full moon didn't help at all," James murmured, leading them towards the Gryffindor tower. Sirius nodded, too tired and thoughtful to speak. At least it was a Saturday and he could crash for a few hours before tackling his homework. Not that much would get done without Moony around. They nodded to a few fellow Gryffindors who sat in the Common Room rather early before falling into their respective beds.
Sirius curled up, still tangled in dirty robs and smelling of blood and sweat. He was glad for the hangings around him. The snores of Peter permeated the air and Sirius could hear the softer breathing of James in the bed next to him.
Love.
The word resounded in his head, preventing him from drifting off to desperately desired sleep.
Love.
He, Sirius Black, did not love Remus Lupin. He perhaps liked Remus, perhaps desired the other, but he did not love. Sirius rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Remus' face swam before him, pale stomach exposed, scars trailed across muscle, faint trail of hair leading from navel downwards.
Love.
Lust.
Could he deal with lust? It was a very strange, almost awkward sort of lust. Sirius had never lusted after a male…it was almost wrong. Taboo. Not that he hadn't heard of gay wizards and lesbian witches. The latter was the stuff of teenage fantasies. But that wasn't for Sirius.
Love.
Perhaps was the only answer he could settle on and sleep came to him. That was the first time he dreamed of Remus.