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It was simply a fact of life that Sirius was crazy about Remus. No one questioned it, no one argued. No one mocked him for it. It was an undeniable, unchangeable fact. James knew it. Peter knew it. Lily knew it. And Sirius knew it as well. He loved Remus since the moment he saw him on the train that first day of class, curled up in a corner of the compartment with scars on his arms and his breath smelling of chocolate. Perhaps that love had evolved, from friendship to something more, from mere affection to deep desire, but it had always been there, strong, visible, growing.
The only person who was blind to all that love was Remus himself.
Remus knew that Sirius liked him; liked spending time with him, listening to him, talking to him, sharing secrets with him, and, lately, kissing him, touching him, holding him. But there was a big step from there to love, and Remus didn't think Sirius could ever take it, not for someone like him. Not for a boy full of scars in the outside and the inside. Not for a boy with a heart so sensible, with a body so evil and strong in all the wrong ways. Nevertheless, Remus remained silent, allowed Sirius to touch and kiss and hold in the ways he pleased until he eventually got tired of him. Because he loved Sirius. Loved him as one person can love another with everything they’ve got; with his mind, his heart, his body and his soul.
And so they loved each other, both of them thinking the other didn’t love back, not as strongly, not as permanently.
They loved each other on cold winter nights, Sirius silently tip-toeing to Remus’ bed at three in the morning, getting under the covers with a content sigh. They loved each other on hot summer mornings, roaming hands under waistbands, naked chests pressing sweaty against each other, open mouths trying to stay as silent as possible so as not to wake the other boys in the room. They loved each other during autumn afternoons, walking hand on hand down Hogsmeade streets and sharing pieces of chocolate, first eating them and then tasting them in each other’s tongues in some dark alley next to a café. They loved each other on spring evenings, the full moon beginning to take its place in the sky.
They loved each other through the war, crying and screaming and fighting. They loved each other through never-ending battles, blood in their hands, nightmares that left them shaking together on the bed. They loved each other when someone died, and when Harry was born. They loved each other, made love with each other, in the mid of the chaos. They loved each other that fateful night, losing each other in the darkness that seemed to have finally ended.
They hated each other, and loved each other with anger, through decades of not seeing, not hearing, not touching, not holding. They dreamt of each other, despised each other, justified each other until they threw up at the same time in different places, both sick of themselves and that love that persisted despite it all.
They loved each other that wonderful night in the Shack. They loved each other with forgiveness, with understanding, with everlasting regret. They loved each other for a short, splendid, complicated couple of years, locked up in Grimmauld Place. They loved each other carefully at first, with fear, with caution, then bolder, with desire, with passion, with years of not loving each other right. They loved each other more openly, more freely than ever, and made a family out of those who loved them unconditionally.
They loved each other that day at the Ministry, with desperation, with horror, eyes meeting one last time, too soon, too quickly, to say goodbye.
Remus loved Sirius, with mind, body, heart and soul. He loved him more than humanly possible. He loved him through pain that seemed endless, was endless. He loved him through long months of crying and shouting and breaking. He loved him through the hope of finding someone new; through new hands caressing his body. He loved him like he never loved her, but he loved her like he thought Sirius had loved him: with affection, desire, and loyalty. He loved Sirius when his son was born, loved him when he looked into Teddy’s eyes, when he whispered stories in Teddy’s ears as the baby held old moving pictures in his tiny hands.
He loved Sirius his last day on this earth, at the end of the war that had almost destroyed their love. He loved him as he held Dora’s hand, as he looked death in the eyes, and breathed a last time. He loved him with his last thought, and with his last smile, that day in Hogwarts, where they had loved each other first.