Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Sirius
I gotta stay cool, relax, get hip
And get on my tracks
Take a back seat, hitch-hike
And take a long ride on my motorbike
Until I'm ready
Crazy little thing called love

Sirius was not a good cook. He wasn't a particularly bad cook either; he fell somewhere between burnt toast and gourmet dinners on the culinary scale. The problem, as he used to say in his defence, was that he'd never really had the opportunity to learn. Until that fateful day he had had enough and said goodbye to Grimmauld Place forever, he was used to food simply appearing on the table; he knew vaguely that house elves were involved somewhere, but he'd never given much thought to it.

The experience of living on his own had come as something of a shock. For a while, he had lived almost entirely on takeaways, baked beans on toast, Madam Whitlow's Meals For The Wizard In A Hurry, and of course the weekly Sunday lunch over at the Potter's house. Eventually, James' mum had taken pity on him and taught him a few basic recipes and simple cooking spells, an act for which he was eternally grateful; without it, he would probably have starved to death long ago.

Remus was no great shakes at it himself, but they had set up a sort of nominal cooking rota between them. It tended to get abandoned on a fairly regular basis, especially recently, but tonight was Sirius' turn and for once he was honouring that.

At the moment, he was standing at the worktop, chopping vegetables. He could have got the knives to do it for him, of course, but there were some things he preferred to do the Muggle way, and chopping was one of them. There was something very satisfying about it, and the thunk, thunk of the knife hitting the board was helping to erase his memories of yesterday's conversation with Lily.

She thought it was sweet. He stepped up the pace, viciously attacking the mushrooms. I can't believe she thought it was sweet. He had imagined telling everyone thousands of times, and had imagined various reactions - revulsion, puzzlement, derision, laughter - but the idea that anyone would think it was 'sweet' was one that had never even entered his head. Sweet indeed. He moved onto the tomato, cursing as juice splurted out over the counter.

Lily had apologised afterwards, agreed it was very serious and not something to 'aw' over, and had faithfully promised not to tell James, but she had kept grinning at him stupidly throughout dinner nonetheless. He had a feeling he was going to have to avoid her for a while until she had got over it. Sweet. He snorted in disbelief. He would never understand women.

He wondered what she had told James. He knew he could trust her not to give him away, but he also knew that James wouldn't give up that easily. In a way - and he hated to admit it - it would be a relief to have James find out. Not that he wanted anyone to know, but all this subterfuge stuff was getting really wearying. Sirius was not cut out for keeping secrets or lying to his friends by nature; it went completely against the grain to do so.

But he had got into a habit of keeping this particular secret. For some reason though, it was a lot harder these days than it had been when he was a teenager. He paused, staring into space and remembering that feeling of having a crush on someone he was completely unable to avoid; he had learned very quickly how to act normally, and he had got over it before too long. Though Alistair had helped somewhat there - and that was a memory he couldn't help smiling at.

But something was different this time. He didn't know why, but he didn't seem able to hide it very well, and he wasn't getting over it. It had been, what, five or six weeks since the night of the rehearsal? And it was just getting worse.

Of all the Muggle traditions that Sirius had found amusing, the idea of the rehearsal was the funniest. 'What's the point of rehearsing?' he had asked James at the time. 'It's a wedding, it's not exactly difficult.' Lily had snapped at him for that - mind you, Lily was snapping at everyone in the days leading up to the wedding - and given them all another lecture about pretending to be Muggles and respecting Muggle traditions. Sirius could practically quote said lecture off by heart at this point.

Anyway, the rehearsal had been quite boring, though thankfully not that long, and afterwards they had all gone to the pub in order to toast James and Lily's last night as single people - the usual suspects, plus Emma and Gwen, Lily's bridesmaids. And as they had sat there, Sirius had found his eyes drawn to the sofa where Emma and Remus sat talking. As the night went on, and Emma's flirting became more and more blatant, Sirius had suddenly found himself fighting an overwhelming urge to dive across the table and strangle the silly woman. Though really, anyone would be annoyed the way she kept brushing Remus' arm like that, or playing with her hair and giggling. Even now, the memory of it added a little extra vigour to his chopping. Stupid woman.

The rest of that night was something of a haze, but he clearly remembered waking up on the morning of the wedding and being puzzled by his reactions of the night before. He had eventually decided the whole thing was just a funny five minutes, as Mrs. Potter would put it, and he had got up and made himself breakfast in the normal way, completely calm. Completely calm, that is, until Remus wandered in the kitchen, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, smiled at him and yawned good morning. Sirius had promptly dropped the mug he was holding and lost the ability to speak English.

He had reassured himself that it really wasn't that big a deal. So he fancied one of his best friends, so what? It had happened before (with the same person, come to that), and he had got over it then, he would get over it now. He successfully ignored the little voice that pointed out that he hadn't got over it, or the feelings wouldn't be resurfacing now.

He had done his best to act normally throughout the morning, though he was aware he had nearly blown his cover a couple of times. Luckily, it seemed as though everyone had been too busy or distracted to notice. But by the time the actual wedding was over, he was pretty close to cracking.

He had tried his hardest, honestly he had, but every time he had seen James and Lily together he had found himself wanting to punch something at the unfairness of it all. It wasn't just because of random unbidden thoughts that he was doing his best to ignore about young men with brown hair and nice smiles. It was also because he knew he would probably never have what they had. Even if, by some miracle, they all survived the war and he found someone willing to put up with him, he would never be accepted in the same way, never have the chance to stand up in front of everyone and say the vows.

His mood wasn't helped by Mrs. Potter, who, as much as he loved her, was completely oblivious. She spent the whole of the reception telling him that he really ought to find a nice girl and settle down, there was no point in waiting, had he met Agnes by the way? You know, Mrs. Butterworth's daughter, lovely girl, very pretty, had just got a promising job with the Ministry... It was enough to drive anyone insane, and Sirius' credentials there had never been very good to start with.

The speech...well, the speech wasn't his fault, they really should have warned him about that. If he'd had time to prepare, he would have been able to avoid rambling, or mentioning things that really shouldn't be mentioned. To tell the truth, he couldn't remember very clearly everything he'd said, but he had got the impression from other people that it wasn't the most conventional speech ever made. He probably shouldn't have brought up the whole sock thing, but only one person there would have understood the reference anyway. Unfortunately, it was the worst possible person, but since he hadn't mentioned it, Sirius assumed he had forgotten about it.

'Wish I could forget about it,' he muttered mutinously to himself, setting the kettle to boil with a tap of his wand.

'Forget about what?' said a familiar voice. Sirius jumped, and swore loudly as boiling water splashed down his arm and over his shirt. He rushed over to the sink and stuck his arm under the running tap, glaring at the figure in the doorway.

'Now see what you made me do! Do you have to sneak up on people like that?'

'Sorry!' said Remus, sounding like he meant it as he came over to the sink. He took hold of Sirius' arm, examining it gingerly. Sirius did his best not to flinch and to keep breathing normally, a task that was suddenly much harder than normal.

'It should be all right, just keep it under the water,' said Remus, letting go. Sirius wasn't entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Pull yourself together, he told himself firmly. 'I'm pretty certain we've got some stuff for burns somewhere,' Remus continued, 'I'll go have a look.' He left the kitchen and Sirius returned to the task of keeping the water flowing over his arm. He could feel where Remus' hand had been, as clearly as though it had been branded into his skin.

Groaning, he strongly resisted the urge to beat his head against the worktop. 'Why is this happening to me?'

'First sign of madness, you know.' Remus had apparently re-entered the kitchen. 'Talking to yourself.'

Sirius glared at him. 'That's twice in ten minutes you've done that. If you're not going to make more noise when you walk, we're going to have to get you a little bell or something. Anyway,' he added as Remus laughed and starting applying a thick orange paste to the burnt arm, 'talking to yourself is supposed to be a sign of intelligence. I read that somewhere.'

'Really? And the people who claim this, they don't talk to themselves as well, by any chance?'

'I wouldn't dare to guess. Thanks,' he added as Remus prodded the paste with his wand; the burn healed over, leaving slightly pink skin. 'Want a cup of tea? Since the kettle's boiled.'

'I'm all right, thanks. Is there time for me to have a bath before dinner? I'm exhausted.'

Sirius looked at him, noticing the pale skin and the bags under the eyes. 'You do look awful.'

'Thanks, Padfoot.'

'I just meant, you know, more than usual. No, wait that's not what I meant either...stop laughing like that. My point was, you shouldn't be feeling too bad for a week or so yet, should you? Do you think you're coming down with something?'

'I doubt it,' said Remus, cheerfully enough. 'I do feel a bit rough, but it's probably just tiredness.'

Sirius returned to the vegetables. 'Why don't you go and have a bath then, and we'll eat in about an hour.'

'Thanks.' Remus lingered in the kitchen, however, watching Sirius slice the pepper. 'Padfoot?' he asked hesitantly.

'What?'

'Are you feeling depressed?'

'What makes you say that?' said Sirius in alarm.

'All this.' Remus made a gesture that took in the whole of the kitchen. 'You're chopping things. You only chop things and make meals that involve every saucepan and utensil in the kitchen when you're depressed, or worried about something.'

Not for the first time, Sirius cursed the decision to live with someone who knew him almost better than he knew himself. He forced himself to smile. 'Nonsense! I'm fine. Just felt like cooking properly tonight. Now go and have a bath,' he added, waving his knife in a threatening sort of manner.

'All right, I'm going.'

Watching him leave the room, Sirius noticed with some surprise that this was probably the most normal conversation they'd had together in weeks. All I have to do is pour boiling water over myself every day, and we'll be back to normal in no time. He went back to his chopping, feeling slightly more cheerful.

The meal that evening was a fairly relaxed affair. Both men were fairly silent throughout; Sirius just didn't really trust himself to speak, and Remus didn't seem that inclined to be talkative either. But the silence was more comfortable than awkward, and as the evening wore on, Sirius felt himself relaxing. Probably a mistake, but he had been friends with Remus for so long that it was difficult to remain constantly tense.

'That was delicious, Padfoot, thank you,' said Remus, putting his knife and fork neatly on his empty plate. He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at his ease. 'What are you up to tonight?'

'Hmmm?' Sirius hadn't been listening properly, lost in a sort of daydream. His brain caught up with his ears. 'Oh, right. I don't think I'm doing anything, really.'

Remus gasped in mock surprise. 'You mean you don't have to rush off somewhere, or lock yourself in your room to do work? All right, who are you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?'

Sirius looked at him in some surprise. Remus was smiling, and didn't really look all that put out, but... Sirius had never considered before that his friends might actually have been hurt by his avoiding them. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

'No,' he said, feeling a bit confused. 'I've got a free night.'

'You mean we could actually have a conversation? Like normal friends and flatmates? I must mark this momentous event on the calendar.'

'All right!' snapped Sirius. 'I get the point! There's no need to be sarcastic.' It's all right for you, he thought bitterly, you haven't fallen in love with one of your best friends. He froze, horror struck.

Remus was talking again, looking as though he was apologising, but Sirius couldn't really hear him. There was an odd sort of ringing in his ears. I didn't just think the L-word - did I?

'Um, Padfoot? Are you okay?' Remus was looking at him oddly.

'Gnnhh.' His vocal chords didn't seem to be working. How in the hell did it come to...the L-word?

'I'm sorry?'

He cleared his throat. 'I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that.' Mind still blank, he stood up and automatically started piling the plates together. Remus was still looking at him in some concern. 'Look,' he added suddenly, 'since I've got an evening off, I might go for a ride on the bike. I've been neglecting the old girl a bit recently.'

'Only you could call a motorbike an 'old girl',' said Remus with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His expression was unreadable. 'Well, have fun.' He got up from the table and walked out of the room. Sirius watched him go, more confused than ever. Why can't I just stay cool? Relax? He stood in silence for a moment; then let out an 'argh!' of frustration, put the plates back on the table, grabbed his keys and left the flat.

*****

'Sirius?'

The person in question, who was lying on the sofa, half asleep, jerked awake and upright at the sound of his name. Two weeks had passed, and he was no closer to solving this ridiculous situation he found himself in. If anything, things had got distinctly worse. He had begged off a full moon for the first time since they had completed the Animagus transformation, and ever since, he had had the distinct impression Remus was avoiding him. A new development, and not one Sirius was sure he liked.

There was one improvement, though; he didn't know what Lily had said to James, but it seemed to have worked, as James had stopped badgering him completely. As a result, Sirius had been spending more and more time at the house in Godric's Hollow, mostly playing with the various Muggle contraptions various well-meaning relatives had given Lily and James at their wedding. He was particularly fascinated by their record player, and had played one Beatles record so many times in succession that Lily had actually hidden it from him. They were probably getting a bit sick of him, but there was something curiously restful about being around his best friend and the only person who knew his secret.

On this particular occasion, however, Remus was at work, and Sirius was spending a rare evening in. He had attempted various activities, without success, and had ended up just lying on the sofa, staring into space, and attempting to make sense of his confused thoughts. He must have dropped off, but - he looked at the clock in surprise - Remus still shouldn't be home yet. 'Remus?' he called out uncertainly. The accusation 'I thought you were supposed to be at work!' died on his lips as his flatmate walked into the room. For a moment they simply looked at each other; then Sirius leapt up from the sofa.

'Moony, what happened? You look awful!'

'Once again, thank you for that assessment.' Remus said hoarsely, entering the room and flopping on the nearest chair. 'I think I've got flu.'

Sirius was rather taken aback by this statement. Remus never admitted he was ill. Ever. There had been one incident in third year when he had reached the point of fainting before he would agree to going to the hospital wing. If he was acknowledging feeling ill, things must be very bad indeed. Alarmed, he dropped to his knees in front of Remus' chair.

'How many fingers am I holding up?'

Remus rolled his eyes. 'I'm ill, not concussed,' he croaked.

'Oh, right.' Panicking slightly, Sirius tried to remember what you did for ill people. Temperature! That was it! He got up, leaned over and felt Remus' forehead.

'Merlin, you're burning up!' He hauled Remus out of his chair and started ushering him to the door. 'You need to go straight to bed.'

'But...'

'No arguments! You need bed rest and...' He racked his brains. What was the other thing people with flu were supposed to need?

Remus interjected weakly again. 'Sirius...'

'Fluids! That's it! You need bed rest and fluids. I'll go and make you some honey and lemon.'

'Sirius!'

He stopped. 'What?'

'Sirius, I'm fully intending to go to bed, but I am capable of walking from the living room to my bedroom by myself,' Remus said dryly. Sirius realised that his arm was still curled protectively around the other man's waist, and he quickly dropped it.

'Sorry.' He had the horrible feeling he was blushing - get a grip, Sirius! - but Remus didn't seemed to have noticed. They reached the bedroom, and Remus sank thankfully onto the bed.

'You get in bed,' said Sirius, hovering in the doorway awkwardly, 'and I'll just...I'll just go and make you a hot drink.' He fled the room, and made his way to the kitchen. There, he encountered some difficulty when he realised that he didn't know how to make honey and lemon, but he did the best he could, adding a generous slug of Firewhiskey as an afterthought.

Making his way back to Remus' room, he made sure to knock on the half open door before calling out; 'Moony? Are you decent?'

'I'm fully clothed, if that's what you mean.'

Sirius took this to indicate he could enter the room, and did so, carefully carrying the mug out in front of him. Remus was sat up in bed, wearing a pair of faded old flannel pyjamas. He smiled at Sirius, and reached up for the mug.

'Here you go,' Sirius said cheerfully. 'Enjoy.' He turned to leave the room, but was pulled up by a spluttering sound behind him. 'Oh right,' he added, 'I should have warned you, I put some whiskey in there. Sorry.'

'Thanks for the warning,' said Remus, smiling though his voice was still hoarse. 'Padfoot...' he added as Sirius started to leave the room again.

'What?'

Remus looked slightly embarrassed. 'Do you have to rush off? Couldn't you just stay and...talk to me for a bit? I wouldn't mind some company.' He smiled sheepishly. 'There's nothing worse than being on your own when you're not feeling too good.'

Unbidden, from nowhere, memories flooded thick and fast into Sirius' head. All those mornings they had spent crowded round Remus' bed in the hospital wing, eating chocolate frogs and sugar quills, trying to keep the noise down and failing miserably until Madam Pomfrey came and threw them all out. Before they had completed the Animagus transformation, it was the only thing they could think of to help their friend.

Once, in a rare unguarded moment, Remus had said that those mornings were among the best memories of his life. He had described to Sirius what it felt like, waking up bruised, battered and sore, remembering nothing of the preceding night, and what a difference it made to wake up and see his best friends around him. It was that conversation that had made Sirius determined to make the Animagus plan, which had been no more than a wild idea before, into a definite reality. Looking at his friend now, remembering the boy who had sat with a very similar expression on his face in the hospital wing, all those years ago, Sirius felt a sudden surge of guilt. It wasn't Remus' fault that Sirius appeared to be experiencing a fit of temporary insanity; was he going to desert one of his best friends for, well, no reason at all?

Making up his mind, he suddenly grinned, sat down, propping his legs up on the side of the bed, and said cheerfully; 'You must be ill, if you'd rather put up with me than be on your own.'

Remus smiled gratefully and leaned his head back against the wall. 'I must be,' he agreed. 'Believe me, you weren't my first choice, but you'll have to do.' There was silence for a moment as Remus sipped his drink. He did look quite bad; pale and peaky, with dark circles under his eyes. His pyjamas were slightly too big for him, and Sirius noted with shock just how thin his friend had become. A not-very-nice thought struck him. Does he eat when I don't feed him?

Realising he was staring, Sirius cleared his throat. 'So what do you want me to talk to you about, then?' he said lightly.

'I don't know. Anything. Tell me about work.'

'You don't want me to talk to you about work,' he said, on firmer ground here. 'It's boring. Dull as the proverbial. I'll just end up ranting about Dugdale, or Chris.'

'Who's Chris?' Remus asked, looking politely puzzled.

'You know Chris, surely? The moron I've been partnered with for the last month?' Remus simply raised an eyebrow at him. It dawned on him that he had barely spoken to Remus in the last month. 'Ah, right,' he said guiltily. 'Well, are you sitting comfortably? Believe me, I could go on for hours about this idiot. It all started a few weeks ago...'

Half an hour later, Remus' breathing had become very deep and regular, and Sirius paused in his story.

'Remus?' No answer. 'Remus? Are you awake?' Receiving nothing but silence, Sirius leaned back against the wall and simply watched him for a while, resisting an urge to brush a stray strand of hair off the sleeping man's face.

'You look so peaceful when you're asleep. Younger, almost,' he said, hardly realising he was speaking out loud. 'Not that you don't look good the rest of the time, of course, it's just...you always look so worried.' He paused, then added; 'I wish I could stop you worrying.'

He shifted to make himself more comfortable on the hard backed chair, and continued.

'Do you remember the wedding?' he said, almost conversationally. 'That was a weird day. There was this one song that was playing, while I was watching James and Lily dance, and practically dying of jealousy...Not because I was in love with James,' he added, still laughing slightly at the memory. 'How could anyone think that?

'No. I wasn't jealous of them, exactly, I was jealous of what they had. The fact that they knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, and they had just let everyone know that in the most public way possible... Anyway, that song really stuck in my head. I wonder if you can remember the lyrics? Probably not. You probably didn't have any reason to take notice of the song. Lily knows about Muggle music, I could ask her, but I'd really rather not. She'd work out why I wanted to know, and be all girly about it again.' He snorted. '"Sweet" my arse. But I wish I could remember the rest of the song. I can only remember that one line, God only knows what I'd be without you...'

He groaned and buried his head in his knees. 'It's official. I've gone insane. Not only have I fallen in love with one of my best friends, not only have I started talking to myself, no, now I've started talking to other people who can't even hear me. And singing! Muggle songs I don't even know! I've gone completely round the bend!' He turned his head to look at the sleeping figure, who still had not stirred.

'This is all your fault, you know,' he said accusingly. 'Everywhere I go, you're there, being...you, and it's driving me insane. Well, no more. That's it. Starting tomorrow morning I am getting over this. I'm going to stop avoiding you, I'm going to stop avoiding everybody, I'm going to act completely normally, and I'm going to make sure you never find out what an idiot I almost made of myself.'

Satisfied with this plan, he stood up, picked up the empty mug, and started to leave the room. Before he got there, though, he stopped, and paused at the door.

'I love you. And I'm sorry.'

With that, he left, making sure to close the door behind him.

Unknown to him, Remus rolled over, looked up at the ceiling, and said:

'What?'