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prompt for Day 5
The Year's Last, Loveliest Smile | Day 5 | PG | 604 words
Remus and Peter sat in the stands edging the Quidditch pitch, watching the seven burgundy blobs that were the Gyffindor house team zoom overhead. From the beginning, Sirius and James had begged them to come watch, swearing that real Marauders would come cheer their compatriots on, even though it was just practice. Personally, Remus thought it was because it was their first year on the team, and Padfoot and Prongs wanted moral support, but fifth years couldn’t ask for such childish things outright. Remus had made a token protest – "I'm a prefect now, Pads, I have duties." – but was secretly pleased at the chance to watch Sirius without fear of rebuttal.
Remus didn't know when it had started, but he'd begun noticing Sirius – the curve of his jaw, the way the light caught his eyes when he laughed, the way he seemed to float gracefully down the hall rather than walk. He noticed in the way that James noticed Lily's hair and Sirius noticed Isolde Friederike's legs, though Remus obviously didn't say anything about it. Remus had no idea what it meant at first, but a summer spent thinking under a flowering and then fruiting apple tree had helped him come to three conclusions: that he was a poufter, that he was in love with his best friend, and that he was never going to mention either fact.
James caught the Snitch and Aiden Wood, the captain, called an end to the practice. Sirius, the Quaffle still clutched in his elegant hands, flew over to the stands. "Oi, Moony, meet me at the broom shed, willya? Want to talk to you." Remus nodded, the vision of windblown Sirius wrapped around his broom making him breathless. "Ta. See you in a bit." Remus watched him fly away, the robe outlining his strong back and then stood, gathering up the book he had brought and leaving the stands.
The broom shed was around the far side of the pitch, and commanded a spectacular view of the Hogwarts grounds and one side of the Forbidden Forest. Waiting for Sirius, leaning one foot and his back against the shed, Remus marveled in the colors October brought to leaves: rich browns and yellows, reds and oranges and everything in between. He saw Sirius approaching a moment later, still in his Quidditch robes, and stood up, pulling his scarf tighter against his flushed cheeks. If asked, he’d blame the wind.
Sirius approached slowly, as if hesitant, and Remus’ curiosity was piqued. He blamed it on his upbringing, but Sirius never looked anything other that perfectly sure of himself. Stopping close to Remus, the dark-haired boy stared at him for a moment, making him squirm, before turning away to stand next to him and look out over the grounds. "Remus, I don't know how to say this, but..."
"S'ok," Remus said, not entirely sure what he had agreed to. He placed a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder, forcing himself to focus on the uniform's rough weave rather than the warmth underneath it.
"Shit," Sirius said with a laugh. He turned to Remus again and then brought one hand up to cradle the side of his face. Smiling hesitantly, Sirius leaned forward and kissed him.
The kiss was over before Remus could respond, and yet he was still breathless when Sirius pulled away, eyes questioning. "That ok?" he asked, sounding small and hopeful.
A tiny part of Remus' brain pointed out that autumn was somehow the right time for this kind of new beginning. "Yeah," Remus said, sliding his hand to the back of Sirius' neck and pulling him close again. "We're perfect."
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