Stumble Upon It

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It hadn't come about under any astonishing circumstances. Remus had dated a girl a year younger than himself, Paige Dearborn, from the end of Fourth Year until the middle of Fifth Year, had casually gone on walks with or bought Three Broomsticks butterbeers for one or two others, and had lost his virginity last year to a Seventh Year Ravenclaw by the name of Rosamunde in a searing yet ephemeral affair that had, to his embarrassment, surprised and entertained everyone who knew about it. He enjoyed and appreciated female companionship and-- though he'd never been in love-- was genuinely attracted to women. But, since just after he and Paige had split up and enduring all through subsequent flings, Remus had found himself undeniably drawn to his friend who was so different from him yet so intriguing.

In the beginning, he occasionally noticed and cherished certain subtleties about Sirius-- his sayings, his audacity, the way his hair fell over his eyes-- and silently compromised with his hormones that it wasn't uncommon to question slightly before settling down straight again and it couldn't be denied by even the staunchest heterosexual that Sirius Black possessed good looks. When his emotions did not subside, he again rationalized that curiosity was only natural and even accepted that he might have legitimate homosexual tendencies, allowing himself fleeting looks through curtains of shower steam. And, now, in their last year at Hogwarts, it was more pronounced than ever. Fantasizing full-scale during classes and going to bed every night filled with an intense, guilty craving for the boy sleeping only a few feet away in the next four-poster, Remus was resigned to his certain bisexuality. He didn't even delude himself with the idea that it was Sirius Alone for whom he could feel thus-- that was a little too idealistic-- but it was mostly him.

He'd observed all those careful months, endeavoring to perceive even the slightest hint that Sirius could harbor buried feelings, but saw nothing. Or rather, he saw a lot only none of it was to his personal liking.

Sirius, for the past three years, had gone through (what seemed like three Houses' worth of) girls like water. The greatest majority of them were very pretty, many of them were funny, some of them were smart, a few of them were notably athletic, and none of them-- obviously-- were Remus... or even Remus-like. At least, he consoled himself, he needn't be deeply concerned that his friend would fall hopelessly in love and then be a complete lost cause: he never spent enough time charming one individual girl to allow for it.

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"I want to do something tonight."

"What?" Remus started at the sound of Sirius' voice in the dusty silence. The other was up on his feet and striding about purposefully in demonstration of his knack for abruptly shifting demeanors.

"I said I want to do something fun tonight. Not just sit around."

"Oh. I've never known you to ever want to just sit around."

"I want to fly."

Now Remus shifted more upright and swiveled to stare. "Fly? Not broomsticks, you psychopath. It's after hours. And dark. And raining. And, you know, December."

"Yes. Fly. Don't you ever just feel like leaping out a window?"

"Er..."

"I do. And whether Mr. Prefect will admit it or not, I bet he does, too." Sirius' eyes smirked. "An exceptionally uninspiring lesson and an exceptionally lovely day? Don't deny your radical side, Moony-- all work and no play makes Lupin a dull boy," he quipped.

"Well, that's all well and good, but this isn't History of Magic and it's pretty far from lovely out there," he replied. Remus-- with absolutely no intention of leaving the fireside that evening-- regarded the raging heavens outside, and sniffed. "And, remember, McGonagall said if you get any more detentions this year, you might not graduate."

"Don't be tedious."

"Don't be stupid."

"Broaden your horizons, mate! So what it's not sunny? Half the glory in flying is experiencing its extremes. That--" he gesticulated wildly at a window, "-- out there is utterly silly weather to take a broom out in, which is exactly why it will probably be brilliant." His expression was transcendent.

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"This is completely fucking insane and we're going to die," Remus complained, his voice monotone. He dragged one of the school's scuffed, desiccated, and virtually antique Swiftsticks behind him while Sirius walked ahead down the corridor, his Comet 320 resting jauntily over his shoulder. He'd made a fairly decent Chaser on the House Team in Fourth Year, but his foray into the Quidditch world had lasted only the one season before he'd managed to earn himself a ban from Dumbledore himself after hexing Slytherin players one too many times, finally sending their Captain, Gallagher Wilkes, to the Hospital Wing with seventeen broken bones and a complexion fuchsia with an allergic reaction to air.

"Probably, yeah. But we'll die terrifically. 'Live fast, play hard, die laughing,' I always say," Sirius declared briskly and unconcernedly. He slowed his pace to clap Remus warmly on the back and referred to the Marauders' Map. "Nothing even close to this wing of the castle."

"I don't know why I let you persuade me to do things like this." He knew precisely why.

They were making their way down a black and nearly silent 6th Floor corridor. Remus had crept about Hogwarts in the night often enough to not spook at the school's standard nocturnal noises-- suits of armour creakily adjusting their stances and the like. Nevertheless, he still wished Sirius would let him have a good look at the map; it had been a long time since he personally had been caught red-handed going astray from any serious school rules. As they bypassed the Library and turned, reaching the castle's northernmost branch, they were greeted with the building's largest and most grandiose window looming at the end of the hall and flanked by limestone pillars. Here the passageway was vaulted and the window-- which was comprised in large part by a great arch of primarily blue stained-glass and by six clear-glass panes (about the height of a man and with the capacity to be opened) at the bottom-- extended from the floor to the shadowy and ambiguously defined ceiling.

"When you throw yourself out a window, you don't muck around, do you?" Remus muttered, annoyed that this location was not very well-secluded but silently fond of Sirius' dramatic side.

"Right you are." Sirius strode forward, inspecting the map one last time before nodding and tucking it along with his wand into his back pocket. "Ready?"

"Yeah, s'pose so--" Remus began before his words were stolen from him by the brutal gust of wind and wintry spray that knocked into him as Sirius flipped up a series of latches on one of the bottom windows, allowing it to be thrown inward by the force of the gale. He ducked his head against the chill and clutched his woolen cloak tight around himself; Sirius, on the other hand, let out a boyish howl of delight (which was, thankfully, mostly lost in the sound of the storm), whipping his broomstick off his shoulder and stepping precariously out onto the ledge. He looked momentarily over his shoulder at Remus, flashing a fierce smile, and abruptly dropped out of sight.

Remus darted to the edge, peering determinedly out into the night, bruised purple with clouds and blurred into confusion by sheets of pelting rain and sleet. He hazarded a look downward and was greeted by the walls' pure perpendicular plummet-- it made him a little dizzy as he could not make out the ground, but he did spot Sirius, who was pulling out of his daring dive, soaring wildly.

"Impervius," he whispered to his cloak and robes, knowing it wouldn't do a thing to guard against the cold, and settling himself astride the old broom while hoping desperately that it could cope with the weather as he pushed off the sill.

It felt like being kicked in the chest, the onslaught of the squall. Remus found himself breathless, ascending into the night and, as he pulled himself through the initial shock, he experienced for a few moments the glory that Sirius had predicted. The overwhelming air current parted for him, clipping past and closely surrounding him, relieving him of physical sensation as it went. He was deaf as the atmosphere's ceaseless screaming reached a white noise threshold and blind as the darkness cosseted him. It was as though he'd been stripped of his body and had it replaced by sky, the surrounding oblivion seeping into him and scattering all mundane thoughts.

For that short time it was fantastic until Remus sensed something wheel past him, too close. He was shaken out of his abstraction in time to see what had to be Sirius darting past and, with a return to reality, so returned his awareness of danger and a horrible consciousness that his hands did not have a very firm grasp on the wet broom handle. For a second, he slipped sideways before righting himself. He circled about a few times but was unable to banish the nervousness; his trance stolen from him, he descended some and flew toward the Hogwarts ramparts like a child who plunges exultantly into deep water before remembering he can't swim and returns to hug the pool perimeter.

He alighted on a parapet near the window from which they'd come, discovering a wide protruding stonework shelf and settling down, holding his broom in one hand and reassuring himself by gripping the forearm of a nearby gargoyle-- which turned its crumbling granite head to blink at him before returning to its previous pose.

Now he was tremendously aware of his freezing surroundings, his hair sopping and his face and fingers raw and a little numb. He burrowed into his cloak, wondering how long its charm would endure-- he had, after all, bewitched it quickly and distractedly. His attention was, at least, diverted somewhat by Sirius whom he could now, unburdened with troubles of keeping himself alive, observe much better. He was spiraling high, many yards out and above where Remus sat, slipping seemingly effortlessly through the downpour. He watched the hazy Sirius-shape for what seemed like a long time as he dipped down low to brush the crests of wiry pine trees, dashed around towers, and raced raindrops, allowing the Comet to fall almost vertically. Remus smiled shakily, his insides fluttering as he realized that having an excuse to watch Sirius in ecstasy was very nearly better than experiencing it firsthand; a little of his fear was warmed away.

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He let Sirius enjoy himself for as long as he could bear the cold and then struggled to dig out his wand with his anaesthetized fingers. He considered firing sparks toward his friend, but feared it might startle him and cause him to fall. "Flagrantia," he said instead, carving "COME BACK"-- large and backwards-- into the air before him in flaming orange letters. The message hovered for about twenty seconds before it began to fizzle out, but by then Sirius had spotted it and was flying toward him.

He hovered next to Remus' perch as he himself rose and mounted the broom for the short flight back to true safety. But-- something he hadn't before noticed. With a small blossom of alarm in the depths of his stomach, Remus perceived that the window was closed. The two boys landed on the rather narrow sill, perplexed, while Sirius unfolded the Marauders' Map and Remus attempted to peer into the gloom of the hallway.

"Shit--" Sirius managed before Remus grabbed the parchment, shielding it from the rain and the tearing wind, to see for himself. A speck by the name of Argus Filch was only a few paces around the corner, moving toward a hidden staircase. He must have just walked by on patrol. Remus could only be glad that he'd called Sirius over when he had or the caretaker surely would have looked out, suspicious of the unfastened window, to witness his ariel antics. Just then, accentuated by another curse from Sirius, he saw that Filch had turned and was doubling back-- he must have heard them. Sirius, whether from surprise or slippery conditions, at this time dropped his broomstick. Remus stared at him in exasperation and horror. The Swiftstick would never support their combined weight. They couldn't fly away.

In a split second, Sirius had seized hold Remus' broom along with his upper arm and drawn him roughly and quickly to the side, edging hastily down the length of the ridge and into a modest recess in the battlements next to the window, Remus in anxious tow.

Abruptly, Remus' right foot met with a slick spot and he felt himself skate over it, losing his balance and pitching outward. He was airborne as both feet lost their place on the stone and all the empty space of seven stories yawned below him. Absolute panic clenched around his mind and reflexes before Sirius' hand shot out, snatching his robes and wrenching him back. He backed firmly into the small niche and pulled Remus with him, throwing one arm across his shoulders and coiling the other strongly about his midriff, effectively but very narrowly guarding them from view in the shallow depression. If Filch really craned his neck or went so far as to open a window and lean out, he'd spot them.

Sirius (perhaps to make sure they were well-concealed or perhaps unsettled by Remus' close call with death) was, either way, holding him very securely. Remus' back was pressed against his chest and Sirius' arms did not relent in their tight embrace. Even through the haze of fear, Remus was exceedingly aware of this. He could feel the other boy's warm breath, heavy and fast, on the back of his neck and could see the steam float past in the cold. He closed his eyes, shivering for a dozen reasons.

At a slight sound from the window, Remus jolted back instinctively and, as a result of this, felt Sirius' lips brush briefly against his skin. A happy accident. They waited for many long and somewhat awkward moments, convincing themselves that there was no doubt Filch had finally moved on. Remus spent the time committing the details of this phenomenon of intimacy to memory.

It was with reluctance that he made his exceedingly wary way back to the window when Sirius at last relaxed his hold. Charming the casement open with ease, the boys lurched into the comparative heat of the castle, dripping profusely while Sirius hissed over the loss of his broomstick. He flatly refused to leave it and spent what felt like long seconds to Remus pointing his wand down at the night-swathed grounds until he hit upon the Comet's general area and it was Summoned to him.

º

"Bollocks. Tail-twigs all bent..." murmured Sirius distractedly as he fussed delicately over the racing broom.

"Oh, shut up about it already," said Remus in paranoid undertones as he skulked down a constricted and lesser-known passage backwards, Vanishing their noticeable trail of water. "You could help me."

"Right," he responded noncommittally, swabbing away a few footprints absentmindedly before carrying on with his broom survey. Remus found himself distinctly annoyed with his friend's preoccupation when something so potentially disastrous had occurred mere minutes ago. He had come to accept that Sirius would always be less fretful when it came to matters of capture, reprimand and punishment at the hands of Filch or professors, but was he even going to acknowledge the other thing that had happened?

The Fat Lady met them with an arch but jaded expression. "Cinquefoil," he told her, clambering, relieved, into the common room. The two of them retired immediately upstairs and Remus went to the slightly chilly, starkly white bathroom, stripping his clothes clean off to stand for sixty seconds under the scalding shower. Pink, he dried off and toweled his hair particularly aggressively before digging about in his bathroom locker-drawer for boxers and pajama pants. Donning these, he returned to the dormitory, pensive and decidedly tired.

To his mild wonder, he happened upon Sirius in a condition that struck him as peculiar at once. He was sitting, unnaturally straight-backed, on the edge of his bed, still fully-dressed and wet. His dark head was bowed, his face a little vacant, and his fingers plucked inattentively at the same broken willow straw on his broom, which lay across his lap. How could he still be fawning over the bloody broom when it might have Remus snapped and ruined?

With that thought, an insight struck him along with a twinge of guilt.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah."

"Just wanted to say thanks." Remus' voice was small.

"For what? You didn't have any fun." Sirius here raised his face and took a stab at a smile that Remus might have imagined quavering almost imperceptibly.

"Heh. You know, for-- er-- pulling me back." Remus went about nightly routine, turning down his bedspread and pinching out a candle or two as though the conversation were of cavalier weight.

"Oh, right. Think nothing of it, mate," he said evenly.

When Sirius returned to silence, Remus drew the red hangings closed around his bed and lay alert until he in time heard his friend also prepare for sleep. They spoke no more of any of the evening's incidents.