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There was something about autumn that made Remus feel alive. The scarlet and amber leaves set the Scottish hills aflame and made Hogwarts feel even more magical than ever, and Remus loved to stroll aimlessly on afternoons like these and revel in the feeling. On this particular afternoon, he’d hurried through his History of Magic essay with Peter and Marlene so he could slip out for a walk before dark. There were a few second-years playing Gobstones on the grass and a Hufflepuff couple not-so-discreetly making out against a wall, but as Remus drew further away from the castle, he became comfortably alone—he figured most students were huddled around fireplaces inside, as it was the sort of autumn day that flirts with the suggestion of winter around the corner. Remus yanked the cream-colored hat that Euphemia had knitted for him two Christmases ago further down his ears as the cold threatened his exposed skin. As Remus meandered down the hill towards the lake, dry leaves crunching beneath his scuffed boots, he noticed a figure hunched over against a tree near the water’s edge. He was about to veer away to maintain his space, but as the figure came into focus Remus noticed its flowing black hair, lanky legs, and glint of silver jewelry. He ignored the familiar fluttering of his breath that had recently become second nature as he approached his friend.
“Sirius.”
The dark-haired boy glanced up, and Remus felt a tug in his chest as he noticed the whites of Sirius’s eyes were a rosy pink, his dark lashes sparkling wet. He had never seen the usually unshakably confident boy look so vulnerable in the four years he’d known him, and he felt almost dirty, as if he’d witnessed a side of Sirius he wasn’t meant to. Remus sank down against the tree trunk as well, close enough to Sirius so it didn’t seem like he was purposefully distancing himself but not so close that it was… well, not too close. “Do you want to talk about it?” Remus’s voice came out quieter than he’d intended.
“No,” Sirius replied, a quaver in his voice. Then, a few moments later, “It’s just my mother. Being… my mother.” Sirius spat the word bitterly, as if he’d licked an Acid Pop. Remus waited, but Sirius didn’t say any more on the subject, and Remus didn’t ask him to. Almost instinctively, Remus reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a bar of chocolate. Sirius gratefully accepted the piece Remus offered him, and Remus absentmindedly studied the shape of Sirius’s lips as they closed around the velvety brown square. Sirius’s rain-grey eyes locked onto Remus’s for a split second before Remus looked away, hoping the other boy didn’t notice the blush he could feel blossoming on his freckled cheeks. When Sirius finished the chocolate, he licked the remnants off his slender fingers, and Remus suddenly became very interested in a pile of leaves a few meters away.
They sat there in a fizzy sort of silence, Remus’s thoughts—mostly about Sirius, but then again that was no different from usual—ricocheting around his skull. He was acutely aware of the empty space between them and just how badly he wanted it to disappear. Remus closed his eyes, listening to the rhythm of Sirius's breathing. Suddenly, the breathing was closer, and Remus felt a warm weight on his shoulder. He immediately stiffened, feeling his heartbeat quicken. It's not weird for someone to put his head on his friend's shoulder, Remus reminded himself. You're the one blowing every movement out of proportion. Of course, it wasn’t like they'd never touched, but that didn’t stop Remus from overanalyzing every time they did. Slowly, he began to relax, the tension in his muscles easing even while his mind was still racing. Remus could feel Sirius, who was decidedly not dressed for the cold, shivering. He instinctively wrapped an arm around Sirius’s back, forgetting for a moment to worry about the intimacy the gesture might convey. Sirius’s trembling began to subside, and Remus felt the other boy nestle closer into Remus’s warmth.
“Hey, Moony?” Sirius spoke in a raspy half-whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” His voice was serious, earnest. “I… I was feeling really alone, and I guess I’m not the best at asking for help or whatever. But you always know when I need it. I feel like I have to be this perfect person all the time, but with you I’ve never felt like I have to be anything at all. Like right now, I just feel so—safe. I… I’ve never had someone care about me as much as you. So I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m really glad you’re my friend.”
Remus had so much he desperately wanted to respond. You’ll always be perfect to me; you always have been… You don’t even know half of how much I care about you… I don’t want to just be your friend. But he knew he could never voice these words that weighed heavy on his tongue.
“I’ll always be your friend, Padfoot.” Remus squeezed Sirius’s hand reassuringly, and to his surprise, as Remus started to pull away, Sirius tightened his grip slightly, keeping Remus’s hand in his. Of course, there was that familiar voice in Remus’s head, screaming that he was holding hands with Sirius Black, but drowning that out was an overwhelming sense of peace. Maybe he didn’t have to know what the gesture meant; maybe it was enough just to be here in this moment.
The two boys stayed there against the tree, holding on to each other, as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Remus felt Sirius’s breath slow into a soothing rhythm, like the steady rocking of a boat in a light breeze, and his own breath naturally slipped into sync with the other boy’s. Remus forgot where his skin ended and Sirius’s began as the comfortable silence enveloped them and they drifted off into a blissful sleep together.