The Best Kind of Day

It was the best kind of day; the sky was blue, with small clouds slowly moving over it, forming shapes that continued in an endless flow. They were clouds to watch in the shadow of a tree; clouds to watch while thinking of nothing in particular, letting one's mind wander free and carelessly without putting anything of weight on it.

And so they lay, the boy and the dog; still, but not sleeping. The dog's head was resting peacefully on the boy's belly; they were young, soon they would be adults but still they hadn't moved on into seriousness of either world. The boy, or the young man, absent-mindedly stroked the dog's black fur with one of his hands while the other rested under his head, supporting its weight. His shoes and socks lay beside him, the socks neatly folded inside his shoes. He was tall and thin and his hair had no particular colour, but his eyes were as blue as the sky above him.

"If only life was always this simple," he said aloud. "If only we could always lie like this, if our troubles were always this far away."

"Yes, wouldn't that be wonderful, Remus?"

For now it was no longer a dog who laid there with his head on the boy's belly. It was another boy, handsome and broad over his shoulders, with thick dark hair and distinct eyebrows. Quickly, Remus pulled his hand away, blushing, obviously embarrassed about the caressing that had seemed so natural only seconds ago. He made an inception to sit up, but his friend said:

"No, go on."

At first Remus hesitated, and then he slowly let his trembling fingers move through his friend's locks. So they lay on their backs for a while, looking up into space. But they only appeared to be relaxed; both waited tensely for the other to move or react, without really knowing what to expect.

"Sirius...?" Remus started.

"Mm...?"

"Never mind..."

Sirius sighed. Then he turned over on the side, resting on his elbow. He looked nervous as he leant over Remus and as their eyes met Sirius slowly moved toward Remus, whose mouth and eyes were open in wonder. Suddenly Remus firmly put his arm up between them and turned away his head so that Sirius could not see the expression of pain on his face. Sirius stiffened, terrified at the thought of what he might have destroyed. Both boys sat up with their cheeks burning, and so they sat for a while, quiet and turned away from each other.

"Oh Remus, I'm so sor-, " Sirius started, his eyes looking even darker than usual against his reddened cheeks. But the other interrupted him:

"If you kiss me, there if no turning back, you know."

Slowly Sirius shook his head.

"Turning back to what?"

"To all your girls and boys. You know what I mean," Remus said, suddenly feeling defensive. "They admire you and they chase after you and then you play with them for a while before throwing them away. I don't want to be one of them; I want something real or nothing at all. If this is a game, you'll kill me."

Sirius grabbed his friend's hands and forced him to look him in the eyes:

"Do you really think it would be like that? Don't you - you don't get it, do you?"

His voice broke a little and he swallowed hard before he continued:

"Remus," he said, "they were all substitutes for you. Do you remember when we first started at Hogwarts, and stood at King's cross waiting for the train?" His speech grew a little faster, sounding more and more urgent. "You looked so insecure; your luggage was too big for you to carry. You looked beautiful," he said quietly. "You are the one that I want, Remus. It's you, it's always been you and it will be you to the day I die. I just-"

But he came no longer, for Remus gripped his head with both hands and pressed his lips against Sirius' in a kiss that had waited for so long, a blushing kiss that had waited and been longed for through years of friendship and trust and pent-up love, that had hesitated and get stuck during countless nights, after countless tests and countless study-nights, a kiss that had only been dreamt of. They hearts beat in unison while they hungrily embraced another, finally, finally, finally united.

It was the best kind of day; the sky was blue, with small clouds slowly moving over it, forming shapes that continued in an endless flow. They were clouds to watch in the shadow of a tree, clouds to watch while thinking of nothing in particular, letting ones mind wander free and carelessly without putting anything of weight on it.

But the young men in the grass did not see the clouds; they only had eyes for each other.