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There was a passage beneath the kitchens, its entrance tucked into a small cupboard that Sirius, one Sunday morning in third year, had charmed the house elves into revealing to him (with a smile and kind words rather than a spell). He'd saved the knowledge of it, not speaking a word of its existence for three years, until the day he thought Remus could use some cheering. Sirius was like that, always with a trick up his sleeve, an image that makes Remus smile in spite of himself. He had been having a terrible week and meant to go on with his retched mood straight through the weekend but watching Sirius open the impossibly wee door with a flourish, inviting Remus to go first down the rabbit hole, forced a surprised huff of a laugh from him.
It was dark and damp as they crawled through the door, pockets stuffed with biscuits and rolls dripping with honey and wrapped in bits of waxed paper, and a couple of bottles of butterbeer rattling in their robes. Spider webs clung to their hair and brushed against their cheeks, and the patched knees of Remus' trousers were wet through by the time the passage turned to dirt and opened into a sort of tunnel that went down, down, down. Remus followed Sirius, bending deep at the waist as they practically crawled through a cave buried deep beneath Hogwarts and lit only by the tips of their wands. He wasn't surprised to find his mood inversely lifting the further they went, the darkness pressing in on all sides and the only sounds their footsteps and water dripping down the carved walls.
They hadn't plotted this, not yet, and maybe they never would. In their last year, they rarely bothered with the map anymore, which Remus kept folded and safe in the bottom of his trunk. They fancied they knew every inch of the castle, and maybe Sirius actually did, as he was still keen on exploring every chance he could sneak away. In some ways Sirius was still that scrawny eleven year old bent on knowing everything about everyone and everywhere, flushing out secrets with a surprising ease. There was nothing he didn't know about Remus, at least, which was equal measures reassuring and terrifying.
The tunnel evened out and grew flat and straight for a long time and Remus was glad for the food the house elves had pressed on them as he walked side-by-side with Sirius. He had a watch but didn't bother with the time, though he imagined they'd already missed dinner. He thought it likely they were halfway to London by now and said so as he pulled out another biscuit. Sirius laugh quietly, knocking their shoulders together, but didn't deny it.
It still smelled earthy, the loose soil shifting beneath Remus' worn boots but eventually the path took a steep incline that they had to struggle up. Before he could slip, Sirius reached back and grabbed his hand, steadying Remus. It was a bright, brief point of contact but forced the breath from Remus' lungs. He felt his cheeks begin to burn, embarrassed by how quickly his body reacted to Sirius ever since he realized his feelings—this crush, how he hated the word, knowing that James would never let him live it down if he'd raised his head up long enough to notice anything other than Lily.
"Alright there, Moony," Sirius said, his voice loud after so much silence.
Remus was painfully aware of his sticky fingers that he'd ineffectually licked clean from the honeyed rolls and was glad for the darkness. "Fine," he whispered.
"It's not much further."
"You've been this way before."
"As Padfoot. Smells different. The light's weird. Wait though, it's just ahead."
They walked quietly forward, side-by-side again, and Sirius hadn't let go of his hand. It was all Remus could think of—the calluses, the long fingers, cool, soft skin. He wanted to kiss the back of Sirius' hand where he had a small scar from an accident in the greenhouse first year, bite at his knuckles that Remus knew without seeing would be covered with dirt and scabs, the evidence of Sirius' preoccupation with projects and fights, always busy, always immersed in some new adventure. He wanted to feel the broad palm against his skin—he wanted so much that he had to close his eyes and trust Sirius to lead him forward, to not let him fall. He trusted him enough for that. He trusted him in all things.
"Here. Wait, keep your eyes closed."
Remus did feel Sirius' hands then, firm on his shoulder, twisting him into the sudden cool night breeze that chased away the closeness of the cave. The ground was wetter here, thick with mud as Sirius moved them carefully forward, and Remus felt the heels of his boots sink down a bit. The moment stretched on long enough that he felt self-conscious, standing still with his eyes shut and Sirius so uncharacteristically quiet but still he waited.
"I haven't brought James yet," Sirius finally whispered and Remus was surprised to find him so close.
"No?"
"Just you. I wanted you to see it first."
"Yeah?” Remus answered—questioned, feeling stupid that he couldn't think of anything else to say with Sirius so close.
Sirius' words breathed over Remus' lips, and Remus swallowed hard, feeling a tremor start in his chest and knew that Sirius must have felt his hands begin to shake. The silence stretched out again and Remus could tell they were near water, near the lake. It was quiet, the water lapping the shore just a bit away, the smell of fish and worms and rotting wet earth nearly overwhelming. Sirius' hands smoothed down his shoulders, down his arms, his cool hands clasping at Remus’ free hand, twining their fingers together. Remus held still, holding his breath, wanting so bad to open his eyes and see what Sirius was doing—to just see Sirius with his bright, mischievous eyes, but then he didn't want this to end. He wanted this moment to last for forever or at least long enough so that he could always remember everything about it. He wanted this perfect moment captured in time, drawn out and memorized so that he could come back to it again and again when things were bad (as he knew they would be, must be, once they left Hogwarts and went out into the world that would hold nothing good for him).
And just when he thought it would be too much, believed it couldn't get any better so he should open his eyes and make a joke so that it would end and not go weird or awkward, he felt the first soft brush of Sirius' lips against his own. Sirius had kissed him. Kissed his lips. Then kissed each eyelid. Kissed his forehead and the tip of his nose. Kissed his lips.
There was a faint, broken sound, and Remus was startled to realize it was him. He had made that noise, softly in the back of his throat when it felt as if Sirius would move away. He clutched Sirius's hands, his eyes still closed, but squeezed tight now. "Again," he whispered.
"I want you to see."
"Please."
Sirius laughed, the soft, private sound he made when he knew he had done something clever. He pulled his hands free and took a step closer, cupping Remus' face to kiss him again, not tentatively like before though still gentle, and Remus leaned in to it. He had no experience, having never kissed anyone since he'd been a wee lad and his mum had bade him goodbye and to be a good boy before he came to Hogwarts and she died, was gone and buried by relatives who were afraid of him and happy to have him tucked away at a school and so someone else's problem. She had been the last person to love him until he met James and Peter and Sirius. She was a distant memory now, his mum, but Sirius was close and warm and real and this wasn't anything like those soft kisses to his forehead. This made his toes curl in his boots, made shivers chase up and down his spine, made his stomach flip like the first time he rode a broom. This was everything. This made him whole again. This made him sure he would always and forever love Sirius Black.