Up until now, a harry potter fanfic

Title: Up until now.
Pairing: Remus/Sirius.
Disclaimer: I wish.
Summary: Remus falls in love with Sirius long before he can figure out the signs. Is it wishful thinking or something neither dare say?

They were walking back from Astronomy - the bottom of their cloaks trailing patterns through the dusty, late-night floor, but they were smiling. The moon caught a quarter of their faces in tight white light, rising patiently as the sun burned it's way back behind the stars. And their hands brushed. It wasn't anything spectacular and it certainly wasn't planned. They'd turned the corner at the wrong angle - both of them - and Sirius's knuckles had grazed the back of his fingers lazily before he moved away. It was nothing.

But Remus couldn't stop himself thinking about it. Even for a second.

The dormitory wasn't particularly cold but shivers spread like veins down his spine, branching off until his muscles ached rather pleasantly and he tucked himself under a layer of thick blankets. If it had been intentional Sirius would have made more of a show of it, he was sure, if it was intentional Sirius wouldn't have moved away and almost lost his step for a second.

But what if he was just that well practised? His eyes ached and pulled dry at the back, staring at the same fold in the curtains for the past two hours and he suddenly couldn't remember if he'd blinked. No, he thought, forcing his heart to slow down, no - it was just coincidence. But as he settled his head down against his pillow, that didn't make it any better, and he still couldn't sleep.

Their conversations were normal enough still, with all the misplaced analogies and short, gruff 'boy words' as Remus liked to call them. He'd observed James using them before, almost forcefully, slotting in a host of violent terms as if they made sense.

"Padfoot, you're my best friend." would, after various glances around the room, become "Padfoot, you wanker, you're a right bastard, but you're my best friend." To assert manliness, Remus would grin, it's the best he could come up with.

Of course, that didn't mean "Peter, you're a dick" really meant "Peter, you're a dick now please let me insert mine into one of your lovely orifices" - in some cases, "Peter, you're a dick" really did just mean "Peter, you're a dick." but Remus always was a fan of semantics.)

"Remus." Sirius would say, lounging effortlessly in the common room - nudging him in the side, "Dinner tomorrow. I charmed the Slytherin's underwear to perform a rather moving rendition of Beethoven's Polonaise in C Major. It took forever to get them up from an A. I know it's your favourite piece."

Remus was quite accustomed to staring, but his lips barely quirked at the corners, despite himself.

"How romantic." he rolled his eyes and Sirius smacked him across the back of the head.

"Appreciate me more. Growl. Roar. Bark."

He was sure, when they went silent from laughter, that he could hear the faint thrum of "fucking idiot" underneath the words. But they were the rules. James had explained them clearly back in Second Year once girls had suddenly decided it may be nice, sometime, to have a dirty, smelly thing to hang onto. And he had been all too keen to be the dirtiest and smelliest so they'd all want him the most.

"You know you don't have to take it literally!" Sirius had joked. And everything had been a mess of innocence back then.

You don't compliment another guy. James had informed them, Without making sure to insult him at the same time. Otherwise, you know, it's a bit gay.

"Remus." Sirius said suddenly, jerking him back to the grey eyes ahead of him, "If we got a puppy together would that be like legal adoption considering our - um - statuses?"

He coughed under his breath and Remus felt his cheeks ache.

Some people being excluded from that rule never meant a thing, he'd tell himself, nothing at all.

But he'd still be awake all night tearing it apart, just in case.

They were behind the greenhouses when Sirius's hand folded over his knee and walked up his thigh. He never said anything but his body stiffened and he tried not to look.

"I understand, it's okay Moony." he'd whispered and it was all like a tragedy in the back of his head.

Maria, a rather determined Hufflepuff, had been after him for months, apparently. She chose that morning, of all times, to try and show her interest in a display of skin Remus liked to keep hidden from people. He'd paled, opened and closed his mouth so many times his jaw hurt, and Sirius had (somehow) appeared and dragged him off. And then they were sitting so close it made Remus think if Sirius had jumped out at him like that, he might not have minded so much.

"It's okay to not like girls." Sirius said calmly, shaking his head, "I mean, I like them sometimes. But mainly I just like you."

By the time Remus turned to stare at him, wide eyes and shaking hands lips almost pursed, he'd grinned.

"Friends are so much less complicated aren't they?"

The next morning, nose covered in drying porridge from where he'd practically fallen asleep in his breakfast, he really wished he could agree.

"I like you the most." Sirius always whispered, slipping between the shadows to Remus's bed and curling up on his side under the blankets, "You have the warmest bed."

It didn't matter that it was June, Remus convinced himself, it didn't mean anything that the room was too hot to sleep with the quilts for anyone else.

He watched beads of sweat roll fitfully from Sirius's eyelashes and disappear as light grey specks into the under throes of the cushions.

"I like you the most too." he would whisper, under his breath, but always let out a sigh of relief when he heard a deep snore in reply, knowing Sirius hadn't heard a word.

"It was a football game." he said, and Sirius nodded aptly, legs crossed, leaning back with hair falling in his face, "I was thirteen and a bit. And I was with my dad."

He hadn't thought about it in so long, but his stomach ached as he remembered and the thin pencil glow from the wand lying between them made it more intimate, somehow. His eyes flickered down and he almost smiled, clearing his throat instead - and Sirius looked up, watching him.

"It wasn't anything special." Remus explained, "There was a man running across the pitch at half time. He had big thighs and a hairy chest but I liked it. I liked that he was naked. But I didn't want to think about why. It just - came naturally after that."

"Penis." Sirius smirked, and his laugh rolled from the back of his throat and Remus shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"Stop it!" he muttered, punching Sirius lightly in the chest, but they were both smiling and it was all okay.

"Penis." Sirius added again and Remus jumped on top of him without a second thought.

After that, he never asked why, but Sirius wouldn't wrestle with him anymore. Watching on as he rolled about on the floor with James and (occasionally) with Peter, all he could wonder was if he was losing his best friend. Or he'd got it all terribly wrong.

"He likes you." Lily told him, glancing up from her book and across the room to where Sirius was pulling faces at his chess pieces. "It's so obvious."

Remus bit down hard on the inside of his lip and the feel of wet skin against his tongue, even his own, made him squirm.

"It's just because he trusts me more. Because we're closer."

But Lily shook her head.

"He likes you." she said again.

"I wish."

And they never spoke of it again. But, secretly, he hoped that for once James's Lily ravings could be right and that she really was an excellent observer.

It was summer, and the station was crowded, and it never quite clicked but, somewhere, it felt more comfortable. Peter left first and they shook hands, patted shoulders and waved goodbye. James was next and Sirius clapped him on the back and offered him a "See you mate!". When Remus's mother turned up they looked at one another awkwardly before Sirius wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"I'll miss you." he mumbled behind Remus's ear. And all the way home, Remus could swear his skin was still tingling and his cheeks still warm.

He doesn't hug anyone else, he thought to himself, lying in bed with the window open. He's just worried because of the full moon. But the more he thought about it, the more it drove him insane. And every night he woke up after about an hour and started a letter he knew he would never be able to send.

Dear Sirius, it read, but that's as far as he ever got before tucking his knees up under his arms and sighing.

It was years ago, he remembered, the first time they'd managed to sneak a few gulps of firewhisky each and they'd been standing against the wall. There had been no conversation but Sirius had touched his face and their noses rubbed together. Remus had really wanted to kiss him then but he'd never managed to work up the nerve. After that, Sirius had backed off, or changed his mind. And for all he wanted it, no matter what he did, Remus couldn't get them back to the same place. And it killed him every time he wished for it.)

And I'm learning how to fight, kissing you goodnight--

"Remus?" Sirius whispered, sitting in the back corner of the library under a pile of books, "Remus!" he hissed again and they both looked up.

"Yes?"

Sirius's palm was resting flat against the table, nudged right up against the spine of an open text. He didn't say anything else but went back to casually flicking through pages, inching his fingers forward but Remus couldn't do anything but stare.

For a moment, he contemplated placing his hand down there too, and imagined their thumbs nudging together or the way their fingers could link together in just the right way. His wrist was pressing along the table but just as he almost got up the nerve, Sirius stood up, pulling himself away.

He shrugged his shoulders, picked up his bag and smiled.

"I - have stuff to do. I'll uh - see you later, Moony."

Five minutes later, Remus got up and followed him out, almost sure everybody else could hear his heart beating as loudly as he could. And he didn't feel he should disturb them over something so trivial as unrequited love.

Or lust.

Wait.

That was their story, up to now, Remus would remind himself bitterly when he was alone, hugging pillows and bunching blankets around himself when Sirius slept across the room. That was their story of almost chances. And how he blew every single one.

Sometimes, when he would watch Sirius secretly from between his curtains, he thought about how he really shouldn't be in Gryffindor.

But on the nights he saw Sirius watching him back, he thought maybe he shouldn't be either.