It was not turning out to be a good day.

It could not, in any way, by any stretch of even the broadest imaginations, even pass for being a tolerable day. He’d overslept, woken to pouring rain, put on his robes inside out and stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast so late that the tables had already been cleared off. No breakfast, save for one pumpernickel roll, had been saved for him. And Remus had handed over that pitiful offering over with the courtesy to look embarrassed. He then ruined that courtesy in an attempt to excuse it by saying, ‘I tried.’

So he’d walked into their first class, Transfiguration, starving and cranky, which was in no way improved by the realization that he’d left his homework in the dormitory. McGonagall–no surprises there–didn’t let him leave to get it. She didn’t even let him Summon it, forbidding it with a ‘Six years of your presence in my class have taught me to be smarter than that, Mr Black.’

He had no idea of what she was talking about, and Remus was the only one to look at him with sympathy. Peter had accidentally set his porcupine on fire and James was trying not to laugh. Whether at himself or at Peter, Sirius didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care, either.

History of Magic should have been an interesting enough lesson, simply for the sake of throwing notes through Binns as they usually did. Except that the old ghost had chosen today of all days to teach about wizarding aristocracy and didn’t have the tact to leave Sirius’s family out of the lesson. He really hadn’t needed the entire class knowing about what close family members had labeled Blackcest.

Lily Evans had shown a lack of tact herself– she hadn’t stop turning around to stare at him. It was only when he found himself beginning to growl at her that Remus had leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Her eyes went wide for an instant before she whirled around in her seat to face front once. She hadn’t turned around again.

Sirius would have asked Remus about what he’d told her after class, except that it had only gotten worse from there. One of the plants tried to eat him during Herbology. A hippogriff tried to trample him into the ground during Care of Magical Creatures. And the boggart they’d been practicing on during Defense Against the Dark Arts had turned into a werewolf which had promptly attacked him. It was the only luck he’d had all day that his quick reflexes had him flinging himself off to the side but not into Padfoot to get out of the way. It was Remus, then, who had stood himself in front of the werewolf, the very image of himself during a transformation, and raised his wand to dispel it. The boggart had hesitated for only a moment before it started to shift into the shape of the moon. With a flick of his wand, Remus had it bouncing across the floor as a Quaffle before it disappeared in an explosion of noise.

They’d met each other’s white faces for a moment and then sharply broke the eye contact, the rest of the class murmuring around them.

And now, here they were. Enjoying their first free period all day now that the rain has finally stoppepd, flying their brooms over the main field, free of everything. Sirius had looped around a tree and shot upwards, Remus following slightly beneath him. It was as he pointed the nose of his broom downward that he lost his grip on the handle and suddenly found himself falling freely through the air.

He doesn’t bother drawing breath to scream or yell, dimly recalling something about it not being the fall that killed you, but the ground. I am going to die he thinks calmly as the earth comes closer and closer, only half-hearing James and Peter yelling somewhere behind him. I am going to die without having ever had a proper snog, let alone a proper shag. Fuck it all to–

And then the haze of magic catches him. The warmth of the spell envelops him and he lets it take him, feeling his body go boneless as he stops falling and begins to float. It’s like an electric charge, the spell holding him, guiding his body downwards. It prickles against his skin, creates static that stings every time he blinks and so he keeps his eyes closed. He can appreciate how close this is to flying, how much more natural it is without the piece of wood between his legs. He starts to laugh at the thought, but it is at that moment that his arse meets the ground with a heavy bump and the sound comes out as an ‘Ooof � instead.

“SorrysorryI’msosorry,� Remus says in a rush, stumbling as he stutters to a landing beside him, wand still out. “I’m sorry.�

Sirius takes a moment to breathe. “Sorry?� he repeats, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. “What the hell are you sorry for? You saved my life. So my arse’ll be black and blue tomorrow.�

“Yes, but–�

“My day was shite, anyway. What does this matter, on top of everything else?� Sirius asks, feeling the beginning swell of anger inside of him. It had been an absolutely shitty day. He wants to punch something. Or someone. He ought to go find Snape....

“Sirius, I’m sorry,� Remus says for the once-too-many time, sitting down next to him. “I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have tried to do it in the air, from above you. I should have–�

“Remus. Shut up,� Sirius snaps. “I don’t care. It doesn’t make a difference. Nothing makes a difference. My entire day has been shite and the rest of my day is going to be shite regardless of whether or not my arse is too sore to sit on. Bloody hell Remus!� Sirius all but screams as James and Peter land a few feet away. “A plant tried to eat me today! A plant! Do you know those? They’re green. They grow out of the ground. They don’t have arms or legs–well, most of them don’t–and one fucking tried to eat me three hours ago! A crossbred animal tried to kill me less than an hour after that And then, to top it all off, some stupid boggart, a creature with a complex so bad it can’t stand to be itself turned into a werewolf and tried to swipe my fucking head off!� Sirius yells. “Trust me. A black and blue mark is the least of my worries.�

His hands press into the grass as he starts to push himself up from the ground. He’s ready to murder something with his bare hands, wouldn’t even bother with Avada Kedavra. He doesn’t care that James and Peter are backing away from him. He doesn’t care to find out what the hell Remus has that weird expression on his face for. He doesn’t care that his father might even be his brother because his grandfather might have once slept with his mother. (He doesn’t even care to consider the fact that that’s more than likely untrue since he can’t imagine anyone wanting to sleep with his mother, let alone his grandfather.) But of course, he now has the mental imagine of his grandfather and mother doing precisely that. With noises.

He wants to scream.

Instead, he finds himself flung backwards and onto his arse once again as Remus lunges at him. Remus’s momentum has them rolling one over the other for a bit and Sirius wants to lash out. Wants to throw a punch, lift his knee and damned if Remus wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. He wants to pull hair and flick Remus’s forehead and pinch his nose. He wants to hurt.

He starts to, tries to, and he and Remus scramble for the upperhand, the straddling position, hands shoving other hands away, legs hooking one around the other as they flip over and then over again, elbows and shoulders getting in the way. Hips pressed together, groins pressed together. Sirius is angrier and harder than he’s ever been in his life and now he wants to kill something.

Remus stops him, though, by forcing him back against the ground and all but screaming, “Bastard! Would you let me kiss you already?�

And Sirius freezes long enough for Remus to settle against him, above him, press their lips together and then Sirius is on fire. Heat is burning through him, surging through him and his hips buck upwards without any required thought apparent on his part. Remus’s hands are all over him, touching him everywhere and it takes a moment for him to realize that his hands are all over Remus as well and he’s never cursed their school robes more in his life than at this moment.

“Ngnhh,� he whines when Remus breaks away without a word.

As suddenly as the kiss began, it is over and Sirius is left shocked, stunned, watching as Remus gets up, rearranges his robes and begins to walk away. Sirius sits up with no idea of what it is he is expected to do now.

“Remus,� he hears James asks, voice careful.
“What did you do that for?�

“He looked like he needed it,� Remus answers and continues walking towards the castle.

Sirius takes a deep breath and then another. He contemplates the infamous Blackcest, Professor McGonagall in a bathing suit, anything at all that will help him get back to a point where he can stand without tenting the front of his robes. The earth and grass are damp from the morning’s rain and the cold moisture is seeping into the seat of his robes. He is sorely missing Remus’s warmth. Remus’s smile and Remus’s touch. Remus’s everything.

And suddenly, he is off like a Snitch, racing after Remus without a backwards glance at James or Peter, both of whom still hadn’t come over to see if he’d broken his spine or something equally horrible.

It’s turning out to be an absolutely spectacular day.