(Disclaimer: see profile)

He's asleep.

And for some strange reason his pillow happens to be my shoulder.

I'm not entirely sure why; it's the middle of the day, and we've just had lunch. If it were any other time, Sirius would be pestering me to run outside with him.

Well, I suppose these days aren't like any other time; Christmas has just passed, and due to the fact that both James and Peter have long since disappeared back to their respective family's homes, the Gryffindor tower is feeling unusually quiet, empty, and – if it weren't for the enormous fireplaces constantly lit – cold.

Initially, of course, Sirius pounced on this fact (in more ways than one) and every day forcibly dragged me out into the freezing, wet, uncomfortable snow.

Every morning, right until he hears the call for lunch, where he drags me back inside for a few hours.

Every afternoon until the sun began to disappear below the forbidden forest.

As much as I love snow, and as much as I love Sirius and therefore spending time with him, those two combined do not create very pleasant experiences.

It is possible, however, that today he has finally given in to my (admittedly audible) complaints; his direction this time was the common room, where in less than five minutes he managed to fall asleep into the exact position he is now.

Not that I mind; there is something infinitely peaceful about the expression adorning his face at the moment. I can see a tender, almost shy smile, full of love and serenity; one he rarely consciously shows; never to acquaintances, and seldom – if he can manage it – to his fellow Marauders. James, Peter and I have only seen the smile once, and that was only after he saw my reaction to their becoming Animagi, though naturally since then he has denied all knowledge of it.

I heave a sigh; a soft noise emerges from the back of Sirius's throat and as he stirs his head drops into my lap. A few stray wisps of hair fall over his closed eyelids, but when I brush the hairs away those eyelids flutter open. The smile remains for a moment, but then something sad flickers in his eyes and it disappears, escaping into the air like a bird fleeing from the hands of its captor.

"Remus," he murmurs gently. His gaze drifts around, noting the warm, healthy fire crackling in the hearth, the snow tumbling outside and his current place, situated comfortably in my lap. He yawns, stretches, doesn't bother to get up. "How long have I been asleep?"

His voice is husky, with tinges of both sleep and, as always, an unconscious seductive quality dripping into his words.

"A little while," I admit, while I struggle to subtly chain down a flood of inappropriate emotions. A worried expression flashes briefly over his features and he begins to rise, but I rest a hand on his shoulder and he drops back to his original position. "I don't mind, Sirius. You've been running non-stop all morning; you can sleep for as long as you like."

Those wisps of hair fall back into his eyes and I find myself unable to resist brushing them away. A faint smile emerges, both on his mouth and in his eyes, and as he murmurs his thanks he presses his lips against mine. My throat constricts and my heart begins to pound, but by the time I can think of something to say his eyes have already fluttered closed.

I smile to myself, and press my lips to his forehead.

"Sleep well, love," I whisper, then reach for my bag for a book, but a soft mutter makes me jump in momentary surprise.

"You too, Re."

He breaths a sigh; the kind of sigh usually heard in that peculiar time between waking and sleeping, and through it I hear just three words.

"I love you."

A.N: thank you for bothering to read. Hope you liked it.