You eye Sirius as he leans back on the hind legs of his chair, casually rocking forwards and backwards with an occasional worrying creak. That spindly old chair won’t hold him; you know it. You know that in a minute or two, the wooden legs are going to crack, and Sirius will find himself crashing to the cold, stone floor. You know it, but you’re not going to warn him. You want to see that lazy smirk wiped off his face. You want to be the tall one for once, and watch as your dim, bumbling friend makes yet another predictably foolish mistake. You want to see him discover where he truly belongs – the floor.

As you catch his eye, he winks at you, his floppy fringe falling into his eyes. Sirius expertly flips it out of his line of vision and continues to lean further back each time, the chair teetering on its back legs. He looks so confident, so relaxed, so at ease - as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. You don’t know what he’s thinking about, but he’s got this slightly peaceful, vacant expression in his eyes. There’s no trace of his usual twinkle - it’s been replaced by a look that says he’s far, far away.

“Sirius. Sirius!� you hiss at him.

He slowly shakes himself out of his trance and turns to look at you quizzically.

"What?�

“Where’s your head? You’re in another world altogether,� you reply easily.

He gives a small laugh. “Just thinking about James. I wonder when he’ll be out of the Hospital Wing?�

You feel an inexplicable surge of jealousy. James. Of course.

“Probably sometime today. Remus can keep him company, anyway. But Madam Pomfrey said she’ll fix his skull all right - there wasn’t too much damage to it. Mind you, it’d be hard to tell with James’ head. Who would know if it had swelled up or not? It’s big enough all ready!� you tease.

Sirius throws back his head and laughs, but somehow manages to pass it off as a coughing fit. Once Professor Binns has returned his gaze to the blackboard, after searching the classroom for people choking to death, Sirius is back in his own little world.

You watch him as he absentmindedly drums his long fingers on the wooden desk and smiles that mischievous smile – the one that gets him out of every risky situation possible. You don’t know how he does it – charisma, perhaps? He’s always had a way with words. He’s a smooth talker - he knows exactly what to say and when to say it. You could say he’s manipulative, too; he knows how to get what he wants, and half the time he’s not afraid to reach out and grab it, even if it means stepping on a couple of people to get there. Sometimes, you think he’d be better off in Slytherin like his brother, Regulus, but then you see the dedication and loyalty to his house and friends, and you know the Sorting Hat didn’t make a mistake.

You glance at him for a few more minutes. Then, it happens. You watch in slow motion as the legs of the chair finally give way and the wood splinters and scatters across the floor. You see his expression go from smirking to shocked as he falls to the ground. Helplessly, you extend your arm towards him, and he makes a desperate grab for your hand. Your fingers entwine briefly, but he still lands decidedly on the floor and somehow drags you along with him.

You find yourself sprawled across his figure, and he shoves you off irritably.

“Get off me, Peter, you big lump!� His voice is uncharacteristically snappy, and you can’t suppress a sneaky, satisfied grin; your plan has succeeded. Sirius is momentarily mortified; you are momentarily victorious. You obligingly scrabble off him and perch yourself back onto your chair. Sirius pushes himself to his feet and brushes the dust off his clothes. He gestures feebly at the shards of timber on the floor.

“Sir, my seat’s broken,� he calls.

Professor Binns turns away from the blackboard and focuses his bleary gaze on Sirius.

“What’s that you’re saying, Mr White?�

“It’s Black, sir.�

“It’s what?�

“Black, sir,� Sirius repeats impatiently.

“What’s black, Mr White?� Professor Binns asks.

Sirius sighs and speaks a bit louder. “Never mind, sir. It’s fine. �

“Are you sure, Mr White?�

“Yes, Professor.�

Professor Binns returns his gaze to the blackboard and continues to write dates about the most boring goblin laws in history. Sirius edges closer and pokes you in your side.

“Come on, Petey, budge over there and be a mate,� he whispers.

“Sirius, there’s no way we can share this seat! Look what you did to the last one,� you whisper back.

“Are you trying to say something, Peter? Are you saying I’m fat?�

You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Yes, Sirius, I’m telling you you’re fat. You have four double chins, and don’t get me started on your love handles.�

“Thanks, mate. You’re too kind. Now bugger off and let the fat boy have the seat,� he says, shoving you more forcefully this time.

“No! Get lost, Sirius!�

“Ahhh, Petey, just let me share the seat!� Sirius persists, turning on the puppy dog eyes. He always was so good at doing them. You stand your ground for a few moments, and then gingerly make room for him. He plops down and quickly takes up most of the chair.

“Move over, Sirius! You’re taking up the whole bloody thing!� you complain, poking him in his side.

“I’m taking up the whole chair? I might as well be sitting on air for all the room I have,� he retaliates.

You scowl at each other, but are interrupted by the end of class. The sounds of people packing away their things and chair legs scraping against the floor don’t distract you enough to get up.

“Get up, Padfoot,�

“After you, Wormtail,� he says sweetly.

“Oh, no, after you, Sirius!�

“No, no, no; I insist, after you.�

As usual, you’re the first one to give in and get up; Sirius is just too bloody stubborn sometimes. He grins and stretches triumphantly, the pride of winning making his eyes shine. There’s something unsettling stirring in your stomach as you follow Sirius’ every minute movement: the lithe arms slightly flexing, the eyes sparkling, the smile widening. You shake your head firmly. It’s just Sirius, after all. Just Sirius.

You bend down to pick up your bag and prepare to head for the next class.

“Are you going to Herbology, Petey?� Sirius asks, still sitting on the chair.r32;

You stand up. “I reckon so… Aren’t you?�

Sirius shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his face. “Nah, I don’t think so. I can't be bothered, really. I think I might just head down to the lake for a while.�

You swing the bag across your shoulders. “Fair enough.�

“Ah come on, Peter, join me, won’t you?� he asks, that mischievous smile of his etched across his face.

“Padfoot…�

“It’s not the end of the world - it’s just Herbology. Lie and say you were feeling sick; they’d never suspect anything from you,� Sirius says smoothly.

He already knows he’s won; there’s no point delaying it any longer. You know that you should go to Herbology, but without someone like Remus to tell you to go, you’re rendered useless to Sirius’ persuasive tactics.

“Fine.� You sigh, defeated.

Sirius claps you on the back jovially.

“Excellent, Peter. Come on - let’s head down to the lake, shall we?�

You spend the rest of the journey in a comfortable but slightly awkward silence. Despite all of your years as friends, you’ve never really been on your own; it’s always been all four of you, together. It seems almost blasphemous to wish you were alone more often, because without James, Sirius is well… nicer. The mocking has subsided to equal teasing. There’s a fair sort of camaraderie going on, and you’re reluctant to lose it.

You finally reach the lake. Sirius throws his bag onto the grass and sprawls on his back, his eyes closed. You obediently follow suit.

You lie on the grass for a while in blissful silence, just listening to the rippling of the lake water and the wind whispering through the trees. Eventually, it’s broken by the sound of Sirius snorting.

“What are you laughing at?� you ask him, surprised at the interruption.

“James,� he says simply.

The familiar feeling of envy stirs in your stomach. It’s always James. Why haven’t you realised that yet?

You don’t reply, but wait for him to continue. What is there to say, anyway?

“He really thought that would be the match that would impress Evans. Ironic, really, that he ended up cracking his skill when that Slytherin Beater whacked the Bludger at him.� Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, and you titter along with him. After the somewhat forced laughter has subsided, you dwindle into silence once more.

“You know, Sirius, I don’t think I’ll ever love a girl like James does,� you confide, your tone worried. It’s something that’s been bothering you for a while.

Sirius snorts again.

“He doesn’t love Evans, Peter. He’s just obsessed because she keeps turning him down. Believe me, if she’d gone out with him from day one, it’d be a different story.�

You think about it for a minute.

“I don’t think so, Padfoot, but that’s not the point. What happens if I never have those kind of feelings for a girl?�

He shifts uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, Wormtail, you will.�

“Are you sure?� you persist.

“I guess.�

You settle for that, but you hear Sirius clearing his throat nervously, and you wonder how long it’ll take him to say whatever he wants to say.

“You know what, Peter? Sometimes, I think that, too,� he confesses in an unusually sad voice.

You can’t help but feel surprised.

“Seriously?�

“Yeah… I mean, I’m not stupid; I know there are a few girls out there who would prefer to go out with me rather than, say, Snivellus -�

“A few!� you scoff, hardly believing what Sirius is saying.

He ignores your interruption.

“But I’ve genuinely not felt right about them, if you get my drift. I know I should like them; hell, there’s no reason for me not to like them. I just… don’t.� He ends this small speech abruptly, an enigmatic note left hanging in the air.

You let this startling revelation sink in.

“I’ve tried, don’t get me wrong. Merlin knows, I’ve tried! But something’s just not right, and I don’t know what it is,� Sirius continues glumly.

You suspect you have may an inkling as to what’s wrong, but you’re afraid to tell him. You don’t know how well he’d take it.

He sighs bitterly. “I’m so sick of being wrong, Peter.�

“You’re not wrong, Sirius,� you pipe up. “You’re…�

You struggle with the words - you’ve always kept quiet before, taking the insults, and never saying what you truly believe. Is this your chance? Is this your time to show that you’re a real Gryffindor?

“You’re just right,� you finally manage to splutter out.

You roll onto your side to examine the expression on his face, and hope to Merlin that he doesn’t decide to hex you to oblivion.

He rolls over, too, and you stare at each other for a few moments; your watery blue eyes penetrating his granite grey. You’ve never noticed how nice Sirius’ eyes are; they’re a warm, cloudy grey that at this moment bare the utmost of shock.

You lick your lips nervously. You’ve never been this physically close to anyone in your life - least of all, another boy. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do, and to be quite honest, you don’t even know what you want to do. Do you move closer? What does Sirius expect you to do? Does he expect you to do anything? Does he want you to do anything?

Sirius edges closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What are we going to do?� you can’t help but ask, concern etched clearly in your voice.

Sirius stiffens at your words; his whole body has frozen, and he sits up sharply.

“We’re not going to do anything,� he says bleakly. “Anything.�

“Sirius, what’s the matter…?� You trail off at his ashen face.

“Wormtail, don’t you see that this is wrong? I mean, it’s you - and me! I don’t want to be wrong, Peter. I’m sodding tired of being wrong!� he says, his voice strangled. Sirius puts his head in his hands, but when you try to comfort him, he pushes you away.

“Just leave me alone for a while, Peter, please. I – I need to think.�

Reluctantly, you stand up and swing your bag over your shoulder, surveying Sirius’ vulnerable appearance.

“Sirius, are you sure you’re okay?� you ask him anxiously.

He slowly nods his head, and you give him one last fleeting glance before leaving him be. You need to think, too.

* * *

Your mind is buzzing the whole way to the common room; shock has overwhelmed you and turned your brain to Flobberworm mush. No matter how many times you convince yourself that nothing really happened, you feel a flush creeping onto your face and your knees start wobbling dangerously. It’s true that technically nothing happened, but at the same time, you realise that you admitted something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself - and you received an even more startling revelation from Sirius.

It dawns on you, like a cold bucket of water thrown over your head: You wanted to snog Sirius Black. You wanted to snog Sirius Black. You wanted to snog Sirius Black.

You – bumbling, worshipping Peter Pettigrew – wanted to snog Sirius Black.

You peek in the door of the common room to see if anyone is there. It’s practically empty, besides a small group of first years earnestly playing a game of Exploding Snap in the corner. You realise that it is dinner time, and practically everyone is downstairs in the Great Hall, eating without a care in the world.

You walk quickly past them and into the boys’ dormitories, flopping dejectedly down on your bed. Your head hurts, like you’ve just finished a Transfiguration exam. You need reassurance from someone - anyone - to contradict what you’ve sort of suspected all along. You need to hear that you’re not gay. Because you’re not. Not really.

After all, surely this happens all the time? You can’t be the first person this has happened to, can you? You’re not that special.

You lie there for a few more moments until you hear someone treading lightly up the stone stairs. It sounds like Remus, but you can’t be sure, so you sit up straight away and, grabbing the Daily Prophet on your bedside locker, pretend to be immersed in your crossword.

“Peter!� Remus exclaims, appearing in the door. “What are you doing here?�

Remus looks pale, and you wonder if you should bother him with your worries.

“Just doing a crossword,� you say nonchalantly, gesturing to the paper and quill in your hand. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the Hospital Wing?�

He nods. “I’m just getting some books to keep me occupied. James is leaving soon enough, so I need something to do. I’m surprised Madam Pomfrey even let me out of her sight, but I said that unless I had something to do, I might just have to amuse myself by wandering around the grounds until I transform, and she nearly died.�

You give a small laugh, trying to look interested.

“I’m pretty sure she knew I was joking,� he continues, and then eyes you curiously. “Why are you here? Isn’t it dinner time? Where’s Sirius?�

You sigh. Where do you start?

“Oh, no. What’s he done this time?� Remus asks wearily, sitting at the end of your bed, a concerned expression on his face.

“It’s more of what we’ve done, actually, or rather, what we nearly did…� You trail off awkwardly. He looks at you, utterly perplexed.

“Fine - what have you nearly done this time?�

You swallow audibly as you feel your face going crimson.

“Well, we uh… It’s kind of hard to explain…�

Remus nods encouragingly at you. “Yes?�

“We, eh, we… sort-of-nearly-kind-of-kissed,� you say in a rush, hoping that Remus mightn’t even have caught what you said.

Remus’ face is shocked for the briefest of seconds, but he quickly regains his countenance. You examine a hang-nail on your thumb and try to think of all the uses of dragon blood – anything to avoid looking him in the eyes. However, you can’t help but take a sneaky glance up at him. He looks oddly calm, but appears to be struggling for words.

Eventually, after a few painstaking minutes, he begins to speak.

“I don’t really know what to say, Peter…. I reckon I’d almost suspected it, but I guess I always thought he’d go for James,� Remus says jokingly, waiting to see your reaction.

You’re shocked, and although you hadn’t even realised you were holding your breath, it all comes out at once, like air out of a balloon.

“What? You knew? But the girls…� you provide in disbelief, as almost a way of validly contradicting everything.

Remus grins. “Oh, Peter, you are naïve. Didn't you ever think it was just Sirius’ way of living in denial? It’s tiring, rebelling all the time. Maybe just this once, he didn’t want to be controversial. He already has so much to prove to himself; this was probably too much for him to come to terms with. Sirius likes being different, but there’s a line, and in his eyes, that’s probably crossed it.�

You mull this all over. You’ve never given Sirius’ romantic antics much thought before; you’ve always just assumed he, well, liked girls. It never crossed your mind that he was in denial, or trying to drown out his instincts. You suddenly feel a surge of compassion for him and feel incredibly guilty for putting him on the spot like that. To be quite honest, you hadn’t even expected him to react as he did. You thought he would tell you to bugger off, or something.

“So where’s Sirius now?� Remus asks you, a concerned tone snaking around his words. The initial light-hearted feel to the conversation is well and truly gone and is replaced with something much more serious. You were expecting this to happen, but even so, you wish it didn’t have to.

“I’m not sure - he told me to give him some time to think things over. He got really uncomfortable,� you say sadly.

Remus appears to consider this.

“Then time is what he needs. Give him some space, and he’ll come around. But if he doesn’t, don’t try to force him,� Remus warns me. “Just leave him be for the moment, and let him get his thoughts together.�

You nod mutely. Remus reaches over and pats you consolingly on the arm.

“Are you okay, Peter?� he asks softly.

You shrug your shoulders.

“Sure,� you mumble. “Just a bit… confused.� You take a deep breath. “Thanks, Remus.�

He nods and gets off the bed, gathering his books together. Just as he reaches the door, you call him.

“Don’t tell James yet, will you?� you ask pleadingly.

“Of course,� Remus agrees. “Good luck, Peter.�

* * *

You’re still laying on your bed an hour later, your thoughts harassing your tired mind. What are you supposed to say to Sirius? What if he doesn’t want anything? What happens if it’s too weird for him? What are you supposed to do then? Things aren't going to be normal between you anymore. It’ll always be preying on your minds, even if you do move on. That feeling will always just be there.

You sigh and roll onto your stomach. You feel ridiculous, like a little girl obsessed with a winner of Witch Weekly’s Best Smile Award. What’s your problem? It’s just Sirius…. Sirius, your friend! Sirius, the boy you’ve known since you were eleven years old. Sirius, the boy who helped you to become an Animagus. Sirius, the boy who continually mocks you and makes you feel worthless. Sirius, the boy who looked so lost, so empty, so confused. Sirius…

The door of the dormitory creaks open, and you prop yourself up onto your elbows. Sirius peeks his head in and glances quickly around the room.

“Is it just you, Petey?� he asks.

“Yes.�

“Great,� he says, exhaling in relief. Sirius snaps the door closed and shuffles awkwardly towards me. His hair, usually effortlessly casual, is sticking up at the back, and you suspect he’s been running his fingers through it.

“Can I sit down?� Sirius asks you, gesturing to the foot of your bed.

You nod. “Sure, go ahead.�

He sits himself down and pats the bed to make himself more comfortable. He examines his fingers for a few moments and eventually looks up at you.

“I’m sorry,� he breathes. “I - I panicked, mate. I didn’t mean to, but I did. You just took me by surprise.…� He trails off awkwardly.

“You’re fine, Padfoot,� you reassure him.

“But I’m not, Peter! I’m not. I don’t know what I am, but I’m not fine. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do… I don’t even know what I want to do,� he says, banging a fist feebly on the blanket.

“Neither do I, Sirius. Who says we have to know?� you ask him.

"What?"

"Who says we have to know?" you repeat. "Merlin, we're only fifteen, Sirius!"

Your tone is light-hearted, but you're not quite sure what it is you're saying - you just don't want Sirius to leave, and at this stage, you suspect you'd say almost anything if it meant that he'd stay, if only for a little while.

Sirius considers this for a moment. “You have a point, Wormtail.�

You take a deep breath, and wait for him to reply. Waiting for Sirius’ response is like waiting for death: you feel like your whole body is on fire. With a sinking feeling, you realise that you’re just not cut out for this Gryffindor stuff.

A small smile plays on Sirius’ lips as he clambers across the bed towards you. You can’t help but notice that the sparkle is back in his grey eyes. He moves slowly and agilely, like a panther about to pounce on his prey. For once, you don’t mind being the prey.

“You know what, Peter?� he asks, edging closer. “I reckon you could be right. Take it day by day, eh?�

You nod wordlessly. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Sirius is so close that you feel his warm breath tickle your ear.

Snapping your eyes shut, you prepare yourself for what’s to come, and before you have time to back out, you feel Sirius’ lips on yours. His lips are surprisingly soft as they graze yours, tentatively trying out this new location. You adapt quickly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be kissing like this. Sirius places his hands on your cheeks to steady you; he may be new to this, but he’s no amateur. You feel the blood pumping around your veins, and you can hear it roaring in your ears, drowning out all outside sound. You’re aware of his teeth lightly pinching your lower lip and his tongue requesting permission to enter. After some hesitation, you willingly open your mouth and experience a rush of hot breath as you allow him to freely explore.

You don’t want to stop this, really don't want to want to stop this, but you have to. You gently pull away from Sirius, reluctantly breaking the heated embrace.

“What are you doing?� Sirius murmurs, almost to himself.

“Sorry,� you apologise meekly. “But someone could come in at any minute, and, well… I don’t think I’m quite ready for that.�

Sirius nods understandingly. “Yeah, I get you.�

You both flop onto your backs as blissful silence ensues.

However, you must break it. You must know.

"Sirius?"

"Mhm?"

"Did you always know?"

"Know what?" He's being deliberately evasive, his voice teasing.

"Sirius…"

"Yeah, I did."

"About me, too?"

He pauses, and you can almost hear his brain cells whirring. But the only noise is his soft, slow breaths, combatting the sounds coming from the common room.

"No," he says truthfully. "But I know now."

You can't help but smile, and rest your hand on his arm. For a moment, you don't think Sirius is going to respond, but he returns the gesture, and your belly flips a little.

Staring at the ceiling of your four poster bed, you bask in the feeling of Sirius' long fingers tracing shapes on your skin, his hands beginning to move away from your arm, leaving the previously touched skin to recover from the burning sensation that is quickly taking a hold of your whole body. And, without any inhibitions, you give yourself up to your carnal desires.