Just because everything is different doesn't mean anything has changed.
~Irene Peter

I.
"I can't believe we're out here," you grumble, struggling against the wind as you and Remus walk down the street toward Hogsmeade. You pull your scarf closer around your neck and even lean in toward Remus, hoping that together you can cut through the biting gale. You're not even sure why you are still going into town, with Sirius having landed himself in detention for the month after a colossal lapse of judgment in Potions earlier that week. Honestly, you are so upset with him after this latest incident that you are glad he isn't around. Peter is also stuck inside, working on the Transfiguration essay he missed handing in, in part due to Sirius's cock-up putting him in the hospital wing for two days; Sirius had told him to just change into a rat for McGonagall and he'd pass, but Peter had simply walked away in a rare show of anger.

Remus had insisted you go. It was sunny and bright after a night of snowfall had blanketed the world in white. It was also cold and windy, but once you got to the village you'd be able to warm up at the Three Broomsticks with a hot drink, relax, and admire the girls a bit. Or complain more about Sirius and what a bloody tosspot he'd been since the holidays. He had been snappish, pig-headed, and rude, not to mention late for Remus's transformation that month. It had culminated in the incident in Potions class, when Sirius had thought it would be fun to add a bit of extra wormwood and a touch of fluxweed to the cauldron you were sharing with Peter. The Draught of Living Death had exploded all over Peter and knocked him out for two days. You will never forget the look of shock on Peter's face as he fell, of disappointment on Slughorn's face as he rushed over, of fear and regret on Sirius's face as he was sent to the headmaster.

The week since has been awful. You haven't been able to talk to Sirius, and even Peter is still too upset to speak with him, and so Remus is once again stuck in the middle. He came of age on Thursday, and you and Peter toasted him in the kitchen while Sirius sulked in his bed, the curtains pulled shut tight around him. It should have been all four of you, sneaking out to the village or getting blind drunk in the dormitory. Instead, a few of the girls from Gryffindor joined you in the kitchen while the house elves bustled around with cake and pumpkin juice; it had actually been a rather nice little party until the end, and you hadn't missed Sirius at all, though you wonder about your own birthday in a few weeks and whether you'll be stuck inside with the girls again.

Remus glances sideways at you through thick lashes, a tight grin on his face. "It'll be fun," he says, but his teeth are chattering. You laugh as he turns his head against a particularly fierce gale, then swear as a burst of blowing snow hits you square in the face, clouding your glasses.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter. Before you can clean them off, Remus has his wand out and casts a simple spell, clearing them for you. You mumble your thanks and duck your head as you continue into town, still walking close as you try to stay warm against one another.

There are not many other students out on the street, but when you get to the Three Broomsticks, you find them--all of them. The pub is packed full, with students standing around talking to friends and not a table in sight. This time Remus swears.

"Bloody hell, I thought more would stay in today."

"We can try the Hog's Head," you suggest, though you don't want really want to go back out. Remus shakes his head.

"It's freezing out there," he says, echoing your own thoughts. "And why would we do that when Lily's waving us over?" He waves back at her, but you grab his arm and pull it down, turning him around, urgently meeting his eyes.

"I'm not sitting with Evans," you hiss under your breath. Instead of being surprised at your vehemence, Remus merely raises an eyebrow.

"Had another row, then?"

"You could say that," you mutter, heading back toward the door. A row was probably the best way to describe the yelling, accusations, and jinxes exchanged after Remus's impromptu party. You might be pissed off at Sirius, but Evans had no right accusing you of having anything to do with what happened in Potions. No, Lily Evans was no longer an option or an interest: you'd spent most of the year forgetting about her, and getting your tongue locked to the roof of your mouth by the bitch had sealed her fate.

"But Prongs---the Hog's Head?" Remus moans as you head back into the cold.

"Would you rather try Madam Puddifoot's?" you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He bumps you in the shoulder with that look of exasperation you love pulling out of him. Then he stops and glances thoughtfully down the street toward the shop. You take his arm.

"I was joking, Moony," you say with a laugh, ignoring the strange flutter of nerves in your gut. "That's no place for two blokes to share a pudding."

"Got you," he murmurs as you hurry toward the Hog's Head.

"Prat," you return, but you don't really mean it. "First drink is on you for that."

Remus laughs, disentangling himself from your grip, and gives you a sly sideways glance. "And the next two are on you, for dragging me out again just because you can't share a table with Lily."

"We're not in a good place right now," you say as you enter the Hog's Head.

"You never were and never are." He laughs, and you have to smile ruefully, because he's right: you may have liked her for years, but she's never liked you. So it's best that you've given up and moved on. You've had a few good dates with other girls, and even a few good snogs (and then some). It still bothers you, though, that she continues to pick on you and assume the worst. Evans really doesn't know you at all, and if she did, she'd know you were much better than her worst assumptions.

Thoughts of Lily and Sirius slip away as you step into the dull, half-lit warmth of the Hog's Head. The floor is as dirty as ever, the pub itself only half-full, and none of them Hogwarts students at that. It'll have to do.

The barman gives you a disgruntled look, but throws an arm toward a table in the back. You settle down across from Remus and order two hot chocolates from the old witch who takes your order. You'd love something stronger, but you're freezing and you're not quite of age yet. Sirius could probably talk the old witch into bringing you something besides Buttebeer, but he's cleaning out the potions closet. When the witch arrives with two steaming mugs, Remus watches her leave before reaching into his robes and pulling out a flask.

"You didn't," you murmur, impressed at his foresight and daring. You should have thought of it yourself. He grins almost wickedly as he tips a bit of Firewhiskey into each cup, tucks the flask away, and raises his in a toast.

"Since we didn't really have a chance on my birthday," he says with a wink. "Being surrounded by house elves and all."

"Then another happy birthday to you," you say, tipping your mug toward him. "To good friends, and absent ones as well."

"You don't really mean that," he says, and tilting his head inquisitively. "Do you?" You take a long, deep pull at your drink--a strange mixture of chocolate and whiskey--and sigh.

"No, not at the moment. Well, I wouldn't mind if Pete had made it, but Sirius…" You trail off. Remus gives you a piercing look.

"We'll have to talk to him eventually," he says. "Work this out, move on."

"He's out of control," you reply. "He really hurt Pete with that prank." You pause and study Remus. "Has he talked to you about it?"

Remus is silent. He finishes his hot chocolate and orders another before he replies. "A bit. I think he's still smarting from what happened over Christmas, only he just doesn't know it."

You feel a pleasant warmth throughout your body as you empty your mug. "You mean leaving the house?" you ask, then motion for a second drink as well. Sirius had stormed out on Christmas and spent the holiday with your family. Yet it was only since returning to school that his behavior had completely fallen apart, as if he simply couldn't hold it together anymore.

"He's certain he'll be disinherited," replies Remus with a shrug. "Can't be easy, having a family like his."

"He's been taking it out on us long enough, though," you say. Remus nods, and over the course of several more mugs of steaming hot chocolate--each with a bit of Remus's flask tipped in--you struggle to figure out your complex relationship with Sirius and how to both mend it and help him. You also talk about Peter, tell Remus about your row with Lily, and worry a bit about seventh year, the war, and even your birthday. Soon the conversation doesn't even make sense: you are just laughing and talking and laughing some more, until the barman is giving you such irritated looks that you finally decide to head back to the castle.

It is still cold and windy, so much so that it blows you into Remus on more than one occasion. You stumble back up the lane toward Hogwarts, passing the flask carefully between you, until Remus trips over something--a stone, a patch of ice--and goes down flailing. He pulls you with him, so that you land in an undignified heap in a pile of snow, laughing uncontrollably. You actually fall on top of Remus, your face inches from his. He smells of cold and snow, Firewhiskey and chocolate, and just Remus. A sudden unexpected feeling fills your chest and moves lower, startling you so much you roll off and lay on your back, gazing at the sky and trying to catch your breath. You are too scared to look at Remus.

"That was different," he finally murmurs, and he is not looking at you either. You are not sure what he is referring to, so you offer a neutral reply.

"People fall," you say. "Especially when they're completely bladdered."

"Right," he repeats. "Completely bladdered."

You tell yourself that's why you feel the sudden urge to roll back toward Remus, to look into his eyes again and feel the warmth of his breath on your face. You tell yourself it's the Firewhiskey, but you know it's not.

And when Remus turns to gaze at you with the same confusion in his eyes, you know that he feels it too.

* * * * * * * * *

You make it back to the castle, still stumbling and laughing, but with a distant edge after that first tumble. You know he felt it too not because James is talking faster than normal, laughing more, and running his hand through his hair constantly; you know because he's walking so close to you, bumping into you but staying near, glancing sideways at you yet looking away every time you try to catch him. You wonder if he will say anything, but you realize it's James: he's your best mate and and bunk at things like that, especially since he's probably just as confused as you are.

Then again, you are both completely pissed, and while one corner of your brain is panicking at the thoughts the other side is having, that other side doesn't seem to mind and wants to just go with it. So you stumble along and push aside your doubts and just enjoy being there with him, free of the angst that has been plaguing you both for weeks in the form of Sirius.

"Moony?" asks James as you approach the steps to the castle. You turn toward him, trying not to lean toward him. You liked being close on the walk from the village; you feel cold whenever he steps away.

"What, Prongs?" you ask.

"I think we should use the cloak," he whispers, even though no one else is around.

"Why?" you ask. "It's Hogsmeade weekend, and we had permission to leave."

He mimes pouring the flask into his mouth, and you grin. "Right. Bit toasted, I guess. Do you have the map as well? We can find Pete and let him know what he missed."

James takes out the cloak and tosses it over you, moving closer so it covers you both. You can hear his breathing, suddenly quick and loud, and you can swear you feel the blood flowing through his veins, you are so aware of his body, his every move. He takes out the map, taps it, and squints. You lean in to look with him.

"Uh, Remus?" James says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah?" you ask, still trying to find Peter and even Sirius on the map.

"We've been under the cloak before, right?" When you nod, he continues. "Together?" You glance up, your heart skipping a beat for some inexplicable reason.

"Of course. We've been sneaking around since first year, all of us. How come?"

"Then why does this feel different?" he whispers, and he's so near you can almost feel the words from his lips press against yours.

"Because we're drunk?" you offer, although you are not sure you really believe it. He glances owlishly at you through his glasses and nods.

"Right. Must be. Come one, there's not that many people about. Let's just get back to Gryffindor." He tucks the map into his pocket, and you hurry away together, twisting and turning through the corridors and taking all the secret passages you know of to avoid bumping into any students or professors. You are on the fifth floor when a large group of girls--six of them, at least--appears at the opposite end of the corridor. One of them is Lily Evans, though she looks rather more bored than the rest. Both of you stop and stare; they will run into you for sure, as there simply isn't enough room for everyone to pass, not with the statue of Boris the Bewildered next to you.

"We have to get out of here," James hisses into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You almost turn toward him, until you suddenly realize just where you are.

"Cherry dungbombs!" you whisper to your left instead, and James glances at you as if you are mad. But the door to the prefect's bathroom opens, and you tumble in, putting your backs to the door as you listen to the girls trundle by. One set of footsteps pauses, but then someone calls Lily's name, and it is quiet. You both slide to the floor, bursting into hysterical laughter.

James finally takes the cloak off, and you are glad to be rid of the suffocating fabric. "So this is the prefect's bathroom," he says, glancing around. "Very nice, Moony. How come you've never shown us before?"

"Because you're not a prefect," you toss back. "And because you've never wanted to hide from a group of girls before."

"I told you, I had a row with Evans," James grumbles, letting his head fall back against the door. He reaches for your hand and grasps it in a strange sort of sideways handshake. "So thanks for getting us out of there."

He doesn't let go.

"You're welcome," you murmur, looking the other way. You feel the rough calluses from James's fingers tracing patterns on your palm and inhale sharply. "What are you doing, Prongs?" you ask, trying to sound light and unconcerned.

His eyes are half closed as he stares at your hands. Then it is as if a spell has broken, and he quickly lets go, even moves away. "I'm sorry," he says, wide-eyed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Something's just…well, different. With us."

You can't help but notice how he licks his lips as he speaks and wonder what is going on, because you've felt it too. "Spell?" you suggest. "Potion?"

"Do you think so?" he asks, staring into your eyes so intently you can't help but stare back, almost losing yourself in his hazel gaze. You shake your head.

"Not really, but whatever it is, it's mad."

"I swear I'd never thought about it before, Moony," he says, leaning close as if sharing a secret. "I'm not like that."

You can't help but snort. "Neither am I, mate. I'm supposed to study with Cynthia Morris tomorrow. I don't know what the hell is going on." But you find yourself leaning closer as well, thoughts you'd never had about James--James--swirling through your mind and almost setting your body on fire.

"Should we try it?" James asks, and you are impressed with his both vulnerability in asking and his openness in even thinking it. You are also confused: you've both had so much Firewhiskey--you had emptied the entire bottle into the flask, after all, and the flask is now quite empty--that it's likely just the influence of too much to drink and too much time together that is pulling you toward one another.

But you nod, a smile playing across your lips. James smiles back, and you lean in toward one another, awkward and unsure, not knowing what to expect. It couldn't be that different than kissing a girl, after all. Well, you both probably have a bit of stubble coming in, but that's all. Lips are lips, tongues are tongues. Friends are friends, why shouldn't friends have a good snog once in a while?

And that thought sends you off into fits of laughter, so that just before your lips meet James pulls back, opening his eyes and looking at you with obvious embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "What's so funny? Did you change your mind already? I'm pretty good at this, if I do say so myself."

You laugh even harder, but James just sits there, looking hurt, until finally he stands, ending whatever was going to happen.

"Fine. Forget it ever happened," he says. "Let's go."

You reach up and take his hand, pulling him down until he sits next to you once more. You stop laughing and take a deep breath. Bringing your hands up uncertainly, you carefully take off James's glasses, hoping he doesn't see how much you are now shaking. You set them aside, then run a thumb over his lower lip. His pupils are dark and wide and you can see how fast he is breathing again.

"It didn't happen," you say softly. "So there's nothing to forget…yet." And you lean over and kiss him, placing your lips gently against his in case this is the maddest thing you've ever done and need to end it quickly. But it feels nice, and he quickly responds, and so you continue, your hand coming up to his face on its own as he cups your head from behind and brings you closer.

And then his tongue is in your mouth, and you don't know what's going on anymore. James is as good as he said, because you gasp and want to moan, but that might mean stopping, and you don't want to stop. James kneels, taking you with him and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You can feel his excitement and respond in kind. Your hips rub against one another and soon your hands roam freely, right there in front of the door, snogging like there is no tomorrow.

He is your best friend, but everything is suddenly so different. What is he now?

* * * * * * * * *

Just because everything is different doesn't mean anything has changed.
~Irene Peter

II.
You glance over at Remus in class on Tuesday, but he avoids your gaze. He is sitting with Peter, and you are sitting with some Ravenclaw bookworm while Sirius continues to brood in the back. Although you had talked with Remus about working it out with Sirius, you haven't, not yet. You've been too confused.

Remus had kept his study date with Cynthia Morris. In fact, he had left the dorm early on Sunday and not returned much until well after dinner. You had tried to talk to him when he had returned, but it was desperately awkward. Monday was no better. So now you have lost another friend: one to his own demons, one to your stupidity.

What had you been thinking, touching him like that, kissing him? What had he been thinking? He had responded, but now he wouldn't talk to you, let alone look at you, so he must hate you. It's the only explanation. You spend most of class lost in your thoughts, barely listening to Flitwick drone on. When it's time for the practical lesson, your partner leaves you in disgust to talk to someone from his own house.

Lily Evans sits down as you wave your wand around dispiritedly. She coughs to get your attention, and you glance up into fiery green eyes that immediately set you off.

"Bloody hell, Evans, come to have another go right in the middle of class, then?"

Her eyes flare before she appears to smother the anger. "Actually, I came over here to be your partner."

"I have a partner," you grumble. Only you don't; he's obviously not coming back.

"He's left because you're so pathetic. Same as yesterday and the day before. What is going on with you four?" She actually sounds concerned, which is a far cry from the ear-splitting shrieks she threw at you last week. You wonder what's changed.

"Look," she continues, effortlessly performing the charm they were supposed to be practicing. "I'm sorry about last week. I overreacted. I know what happened in Potions wasn't your fault." She pauses and gazes into your eyes. "But what's going on? First it was Sirius, now there's something going on with Remus. People are starting to notice."

You feel your stomach twist in knots. "Notice what?" you manage.

"That you're not talking. That something is wrong. You're best friends, the four of you." She glances away, taking a deep breath. "Do you need to talk?"

"To you?" you can't help blurting, and she looks slightly insulted.

"Yes, to me," she replies. "I'm just offering--"

"Why aren't you offering to talk to Remus?" you interrupt. "I thought you two were actually friends, being prefects and all."

"And we're not friends," she says, nodding in a way that almost seems sad. "Right. Never mind then."

She stands up, but you reach for her arm and ask her to sit down again. Flitwick gives you a look, and you try your hand at the charm again, this time only managing to make a bit of smoke. You sigh, and Lily gives you a knowing look.

"So what's wrong, James?"

"Besides Sirius being a git?" you ask, hearing the bitter sarcasm.

"What's going on between you and Remus?" she asks. You can't help but glance over at Remus and Peter. Has Peter noticed anything? Is Remus talking to him about it? Because Peter will certainly tell Sirius once they're talking again, and then Merlin only knows what will happen…

"We had a row," you tell her with a shrug. "After Hogsmeade. It's been awkward ever since."

"So talk to him," she says almost instantly.

"Tried," you mutter. "He was definitely avoiding me the next day."

"And now you're avoiding each other," she says, nodding to herself, "because it's awkward. More awkward than talking about it?"

You shrug, and she narrows her eyes. "You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?" she asks.

"Can't," you reply.

"Or won't," she says. You snap.

"Look, Evans, are you trying to help me or get me to jinx you again? Back off, for Godric's sake."

She opens her mouth, then shuts it. "I'm sorry," she says, and you raise your eyebrows because you've heard that only once before from her. "I don't know what to say, I guess. But you need to work this out somehow. You're all too good of friends to let whatever's going on ruin that. You need each other."

She reaches out to pat your hand. A year or two ago you would have been thrilled at the kind words and warm touch; right now all you can think of is Remus, because she's right: you need him. You always have and always will with a moody bastard like Sirius as your other best friend. Thank Merlin Pete is so normal sometimes.

"Thanks, Evans," you say as she walks away. "You're all right sometimes." She turns and raises her eyebrows.

"You're not so bad yourself, Potter. Especially when you're actually having feelings."

You ignore the cutting remark and instead grab your quill to pen a quick note to Remus.

We need to stop avoiding each other. We should talk. Prefect's bathroom after class?

You fold it into a quick bird shape and send it flying low over the floor toward him, where it pokes him on the ankle. You watch as he opens it and takes a deep breath. Then he writes a response and sends it back.

I'm not sure that's the best place for us actually. A good walk might clear our heads.

You can't help but roll your eyes. Ever the pragmatist. You write back.

Bring your flask then. It's still cold as hell.

He unfolds it and snorts, then writes back.

That flask got us into trouble last time, you know. I'd make a joke about keeping each other warm in other ways, but I'm not sure how that would go over anymore.

You feel a flush creep up your neck as you think about you and Remus walking so closely together on the trip to and from Hogsmeade.

I'd ask about those other ways, but I don't want Flitwick to intercept this. And I don't even want to know what Pete is thinking looking over your shoulder. See you after class.

You send the last note over and turn back to your book. With a better mood, you quickly master the charm. Turning toward Remus, he gives you a smile that lifts your spirit even more. Peter is watching him oddly, though. And when you turn around to find Evans, you accidentally catch Sirius's eye, and he positively glowering.

Once you work things out with Remus, you can figure out how to mend things with Sirius. And hopefully then things will get back to some semblance of normal--maybe even in time for your birthday.

* * * * * * * * *

You nod at Peter, telling him you'll catch up at dinner and that things will be better between you and James by then. He asks about Sirius as well, and you just nod. He walks away, and you wait impatiently for James, vaguely wondering if he's got the map or the cloak with him, or if you'll even need them.

As you wait, you think about why it's taken three days to talk about what happened. He will probably ask, yet you are not really sure why you've been avoiding him, and you have no idea what to tell him. What happened in the prefect's bathroom had been unexpected…but amazing. Intense…yet confusing. And more than anything, a little bit frightening. Blokes didn't kiss other blokes around the castle. Sure, there were always rumors, but they were murmured with disgust or mockery. If anyone found out about you and James…if Sirius found out…

And that's what bothers you, when you look deep enough: you may be estranged from Sirius at the moment, but he is still one of your best friends, and it feels like a betrayal of some sort to up and snog your other best friend behind Sirius's back, particularly when things between the four of you are so uncomfortable at the moment. Somehow you don't think Peter would mind, but Sirius: Sirius is unpredictable. Volatile. In a dark place right now.

To your surprise, James walks out with Lily Evans, and you have to force yourself to set aside the twinge of envy that grips your chest. He couldn't stand the thought of her three days ago; now they are suddenly friendly? Even partnering in class together? You shake you head, determined not to let it bother you. You need to talk to James, openly and honestly, and if Lily Evans comes up, then you hope he will be open and honest as well.

Lily smiles at you and and waves to James, who gives you a grin as you head off down the corridor together.

"I'm glad Flitwick didn't get that note," he starts.

"I charmed it to muddle up if a professor intercepted it," you reply with a laugh. "So all he would have seen was a bunch of nonsense."

James glances sideways. "He's the Charms teacher, Remus. I'm sure he knows the counter-charm."

You stop laughing. "I forgot about that."

"Good one, Moony," James laughs. You join him, feeling surprisingly comfortable being with him. You thought it would be awkward after what happened, but you've missed him. You're ready to figure out if it meant anything, or if it was just a crazy mistake you can move past. And you're fairly sure that you will be happy either way, because he is still your best friend: you can still laugh together.

The castle is bustling as students move between classes. As you walk, you talk about the Charms lesson, about your Potions homework, about Transfiguration the next day. Leaving the castle, you pull your cloak tighter as you step out into the cold, grey morning.

"Bring that flask?" James asks with a wink.

"I don't usually carry it to class, no," you retort.

"Just Hogsmeade," he laughs once more, and you laugh with him once more as you make your way toward the Forbidden Forest. You both know it so well that getting lost under its snowy eaves is exactly what you need right now.

"So what did Lily want?" you ask casually as you step into the woods. James sighs and turns toward you.

"She asked me what was wrong. Between us, between us and Sirius. She said people are talking, and we need to work it out because we are too good of friends not to."

You are quiet for a moment. "Did you tell her what happened?" you ask.

"Of course not!" he exclaims. "I haven't even talked about it with you, why would I tell her?"

"Nice of her to ask, though," you murmur.

"Shocked the hell out of me," he says in return, and you smile.

"She's a good person, James."

"She's not usually so nice to me," he replies. "But yeah, she was all right back there. Have you told anyone?"

You shake your head. "Pete thinks we had a row in Hogsmeade. I told him it was something like that."

James snorts as you walk deeper into the woods. "What did happen, Moony? In Hogsmeade, on the way back, in the bathroom?"

You've come to a clearing where a small frozen pond lies in the middle of a circle of tall pine trees. You lean back against the nearest tree, glancing up into its snowy boughs. "I'm still not sure, Prongs. But…I don't think it was wrong. Do you?"

He is silent for so long, standing at the edge of the pond gazing into the woods, that you are certain he must regret it: that he must be disgusted, horrified even. But finally he turns and shakes his head. "No, I don't. It felt good. It felt right."

You let out the tense breath you didn't even know you'd been holding. "Then what do we do about it?"

"Try again?" he suggests, a suggestive smile playing at his lips. "See if something is still there?"

"Without the flask, you mean?" you toss back, and he moves closer.

"Something like that." He steps forward and placed his hands against the tree trunk on either side of you, effectively pining you against it.

"That's a start," you murmur, amazed at how easy that was. You should have talked about it days ago. It is not awkward or uncomfortable, and just like that, you are bantering again. James does not hate you, he is not disgusted. In fact, he is staring at you so intensely right now you can't help but lick your lips as you feel your heart race in anticipation.

He leans forward and kisses you, slowly at first, then more passionately as you open your mouth to his, and your tongues eagerly continue on from that first exploration in the prefects' bath. And then he moves to kiss your chin, your neck, even your ears, sending shivers down your back that have nothing to do with the snow and cold. You can't help but murmur his name.

"Yes?" he says, pulling up to gaze into your eyes.

"Are we mad?" you ask.

"Perhaps," he nods.

"But that's all right?" you continue, because you just want to know you won't lose him, not now.

"It's all right with me if it's all right with you," he says, then claims your lips for another long, deep kiss before you can answer. When he stops, you reach out to trace your finger along his jaw.

"It's all right with me, but I have to know something. Two things."

He nods and lets his forehead rest against yours. It feels so natural to be standing there so intimately with him that you almost can't speak. "What's the first?"

"Will we still be friends?" you ask, almost whispering. He reaches down for your hand, and you both gaze at your entwined fingers in wonder.

"Yes," he says, his voice close to breaking. "Always. I couldn't bear to lose you, as a friend or more."

You swallow thickly and hope he keeps his word, because you will. He will always be your best friend, no matter what happens now, a week from now, or a year from now. "What about the others, then?"

He drops your hand and steps back, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Shit, Remus, I don't know." He gazes at you with confusion in his eyes. "What do you think?"

You shake your head. "I don't know either. You don’t think we're doing anything wrong by them, do you?"

He shrugs with the helpless uncertainty you still feel as well. "Maybe. But this is between us, not them."

"So maybe we should just keep it to ourselves for now?" you suggest.

"They'll figure it out eventually," James points out. You shrug back.

"Then we'll deal with it when they do. Right now we should just focus on us."

"That sounds good."

You step forward for another long kiss, relishing in the new, exciting feeling of discovering something that was always there, only you never realized it. James returns the feeling, and you wish you weren't in the middle of the woods but someplace warmer, because even the heat from his body pressing close is not enough to keep out the biting cold.

James shivers as well before he pulls away and nods his head toward the castle. Although you wouldn't mind staying out, you are much colder without him against you, and you both have class later. You head toward the edge of the forest together.

"So what is this exactly--us?" James asks, and you can't help but groan, because for once in your life you don't have an answer, and you don't care.

"I don't know that either, Prongs," you say, giving him a pointed look. "I think we just need to let it happen, whatever it is."

"It's not going to be easy, is it?" he asks, and he sounds both sad and anxious. You stop and turn him toward you.

"James, it's already easy," you say, grasping his hand. "It's easy for us. Let's not worry about anything else yet, all right?"

He glances through the trees toward the castle, then smiles and leans forward to kiss you. "You're right, of course."

"Naturally," you say as you leave the woods and trudge up to the front steps. "I have always been the voice of reason in our pathetic little group." When James raises an eyebrow, you laugh. "It's true. You'd have far more detentions without me whispering in your ear."

"Or Peter whimpering in the other," he laughs, and you laugh with him, feeling wonderfully content.

You continue toward the castle, silent for a moment before James speaks. "We should talk to Sirius." You whip your head toward him in surprise. "Not about this," he says, rolling his eyes. "About him, about Peter--about all of us. Evans was right. We're best friends. We need to work it out."

You nod in agreement as you enter the castle and walk toward the Great Hall for lunch. Peter is waiting outside for you, pacing back and forth.

"Where have you been? Off having a snog or something?" he snaps. Your mouth almost falls open and you're fairly certain you hear a strangled sound from James, but you manage to recover fairly quickly.

"I told you we had a row, Pete," you say, trying to sound reproving. "And now we've worked it out. What are you doing out here?"

"Sirius is in there, and there's no one else to sit with," he says.

You glance at James, who nods. "Then maybe we should go sit with him." Peter stares at you.

"Really?" he asks. "Even after--"

You sling an arm around his shoulder. "Yes. It's time we work this out. We're best friends, after all."

You lead him into the hall, but share one more look and a secret smile with James. Just because everything is different between you and James doesn't mean anything has changed between everyone else. You are all best friends…but now some of you are a bit more.

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