It was a crush, that's all. A pathetic, teenage crush. The kind of thing where you listen to everything they say, even when you pretend not to. Where anything they might say becomes gospel to the church in your head, the church that worships them daily.

He had never been one to buy into crushes. He had always thought them a silly idea, a ridiculous concept. In a way he had always thought himself above such menial things. Then again, that was before he had found god. His god: Sirius Black.

The others always marvelled that he could stay awake through history of magic classes, but they weren't utterly fixated on the most beautiful creature ever to grace this earthly plane, of course they wouldn't be able to stay awake! He, however, could sit and watch Sirius for hours on end, and take copious notes with a separate part of his mind so that no one would suspect his ulterior motive.

And then he would be walking down the hall, trailing his friends with a thousand silly and fanciful thoughts going through his mind, and Sirius would say something to him, and his heart would leap. Sirius and James would be joking about something, planning a prank or an expedition, and Sirius would turn and say 'Will you come?' and he would say 'Yes' despite every fibre of his being that was telling him that his better judgement would decline.

On the weekends, when James played Quidditch, and when he practiced during the week, he and Sirius would sit in the stands, joking and observing, and he would always feel a little uncomfortable at first, because here was the person he loved, sitting right beside him. Then a minute of conversation would pass and Sirius' spell would fall, and he would feel relaxed, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. Nothing could dampen his spirits in those times.

And at night, when everyone else was asleep, he would imagine Sirius' hands on his body, and not his own. He would imagine kissing Sirius, and the conversations they would have, the moments they would share if he could just tell Sirius what he felt. But that was silly, wasn't it? After all, it was just a crush.

And Sirius was a god. Gods exist in their realm, we men in our own. Gods do not mingle with the likes of men, and certainly love cannot come between them. It always made the others laugh that he would sit and read about Greek mythology. The ancient Greek world, where gods descended from Mount Olympus, and mingled with the men, where gods would even take a man or woman in love and coupling. His friends thought it was silly, he thought it was silly, no one really understood it. Sirius didn't scorn, though. He would laugh, but he never mocked.

He had always imagined he would say it some day. In his fantasies he would be sitting under the half-moon, with Sirius beside him, and he would tell him those words, and Sirius would smile and say that he felt the same. Or he would be sitting with Sirius and having a few drinks at new years', and he would kiss Sirius and no words would be said but Sirius would kiss him back and smile that beautiful smile.

He had never imagined that he would blurt it out in the middle of a conversation. Nor had he actually expected the reaction he got. He had planned it out a thousand different ways, but never expected silence.

He had covered his mouth as soon as the words left it. 'I think I love you.' He had said, breaking a long, study silence. Then he had been so scared that he had covered his mouth and ducked his head into the book that he was reading. Eros and Psyche.

Silence as Sirius looked up from his Herbology homework. Simply: 'What?' Sirius had asked. He had closed his eyes in the book and taken a deep breath, swearing that it was now or never. 'I think,' he had said, 'that I love you.' And that was it, the damning words.

His crush, or whatever it was, was out in the open now. And the ball was, rather inconveniently, in Sirius' court. Always there had been more talk, in his imagined scenarios. There had, at the very least, been a response. Now there was silence.

He had stood up, not looking at Sirius for fear of the horrid expression that might have been there. He had closed his book and walked away quickly, silently, not looking back. When he got back to the dorm he had jumped on his bed, drawn the curtains, and put a silencing charm on the area. He had cried for so long that he didn't know what time it was when the curtains were drawn back.

James was standing there, curious and determined. James had pulled him to his feet and thrown the invisibility cloak over them both. Apparently he had cried well into the evening because it was dark as they wandered the halls.

James was always talking. Even when they had been asked to be quiet by Professor Dumbledore three times, he would still manage to strike up conversation with Sirius. The two of them couldn't stop talking, but now he was silent, and not just on account of security.

James took them down a passage near the Great Hall, one that they didn't often use. 'You'll forgive me,' he said, 'for not showing you this earlier, Sirius and I have been experimenting. Stay here.' And he stepped out from under the cloak, walking away about twenty paces, just past a tapestry, then returning, and then walking away again.

He had never seen James pace. Granted, he was not often paying much attention to James. Oftentimes in class, he would glance at James or at any of their other friends, just to check, just to make sure that it wasn't his hormones. It could have been hormones, it could, but it's not.

And then he had gone and blurted it out, for no reason at all. He felt the fool, but some things cannot be contained. Some things are too honest to be left in silence. Why, then, had he not at least found some more tactical way of saying it? He closed his eyes and ducked his head, even though no one could see him under the cloak, he still wanted to hide his head.

James knew he had been crying, surely. He must have been sitting on that bed for hours, and still James had not said anything. But Sirius must have told him, Sirius and James told each other everything, but he had never been jealous. Sirius would tell him what he had a right to know, right? He felt tears coming again, and breathed deeply to send them away.

James took his arm, silent as the wind was he, rustling slightly and never really there. But his silence was gentle, not harsh and reprimanding. James knew, but was kind in his silence. James led him into the room that was now there.

It was red and gold, the Gryffindor colours, but deeper and more rich. He liked those colours, but he had grown rather fond of black, black with silver was his favourite, and he knew why but he didn't tell anyone why. But they knew, and didn't ask, why he liked black and black with silver, or why he stared to one point in the sky when they were outside. They knew why he always looked to that star, but no one asked.

James took the cloak and nodded to him, closing the door and leaving him alone in the room. He sat down in one of the couches; there were two, and a roaring fire. He sat down and stared into the fire, not knowing why he was here. He studied the room. Small, quiet, empty. Every room was empty but for one, he thought. The one in which his god graced this earth.

He was on an island. His silly crush, and his fanciful ideas had placed him alone, isolated on this island that he, himself, had constructed from foolishness. He has removed himself from everyone because he wanted so badly to be with one.

He felt alone, but then he was joined and the room was no longer empty, though it scared him to know this. He had stared at first, and then looked back at the fire. The room was dark, but for that glow, and his eyes found it out quickly, clutching at straws.

He felt so close to sleep, but he could not find sleep now because a voice, so familiar, spoke to him. The voice was all tenderness and soft, a tone he had never heard it in before. 'I know.' Was all it said. He closed his eyes again and waited. The couch had dipped, and he had felt so pleased to feel that dip that tiny cold tingles ran up and down his back, spreading his shoulders, and focusing on his neck.

'I love you.' And that was it. To hear those words made his tears come again, but for a vastly different reason. He had turned to where Sirius was, but he couldn't see his face, so he put out his hand to find it. He held Sirius' cheek and waited, and Sirius kissed him, and his fantasy was so close to true.

The kiss was short, and true, and an affirmation of all they both felt. And he was lifted, then, from his lowly mortal existence to be among the gods, and his heart was glad of the change, because he could at last be with his love. It wasn't a crush; it was love.

When the kiss was done Sirius pulled his shoulders and laid them down together on the couch. Arms, he remembered. The arms held him so close and they were strong and he felt safe beyond the reach of any dark wizards, beyond even the full moon.

'Eros and Psyche.' Sirius had said, so quietly and he had smiled. It wasn't silly, it wasn't pathetic, and it wasn't to be scorned.