Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, so these characters don't belong to me. I make no money off of this, I do it because I like it.

Summary: Life and love--it's all just a game to Sirius. And Remus doesn't want to play anymore. Remus/Sirius slash.

The Opening Kiss

All is took was one kiss. All it took was for Sirius to lean over the stack of books, thread his fingers suddenly through Remus' hair, and press their lips together--it was only a small kiss, it didn't mean anything. But it was enough to bring the world as he knew it crashing down.

Remus pulled back, his cheeks turning pink in the very way that had made Sirius want to kiss him. But Remus looked anything but willing as he slid all the way back in his chair and toppled a pile of books off the common room table. It was late, they were alone, but that didn't stop his face from turning completely red as he slid down to pick up the mess. He took his time too, in absolutely no rush to look back into Sirius' eyes, into the eyes of someone he'd never again be comfortable around.

When he resurfaced at last, Remus' face was completely blank, and he set down the books without so much as a glance in Sirius' direction. "As I was saying, the Basilisk--"

"We're still going to study? I'm tired," said Sirius, seeing an opening and taking it. Remus didn't have to know that Sirius loved him, not yet. It was too early; past the first kiss at least, but it was still much too early for declarations of love. "I kissed you so we could go to bed together."

And then everything went silent.

Go to bed together...?

Though Remus said nothing, Sirius's cheeks grew warm and his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. "Together, as in the dormitory, of course. James and Peter are up there, so it wouldn't be just us. Unless you'd rather sleep down here with the House Elves."

"That reminds me, for Tuesday's test we have to study the decline in the economical value of House Elves compared to the amount of families owning them, and then the increase of black market House Elf trade--"

Sirius slammed his hand down on top of Remus' open book. "Do you really think I care about black market House Elf trade? I'd rather give my House Elf away than try to do anything illegal with it. Come on Remus, use your head!"

Remus stared straight down at Sirius' hand, not looking up, not meeting his eyes. "I'm trying to help you study."

Sirius hadn't expected a shower of love or even anger from him after the kiss, but Remus' reaction was simply infuriating. Maybe the werewolf wanted to act like it had never happened, but Sirius certainly didn't. It had happened, there was no changing that, and no matter what he did he wouldn't let himself regret it.

Kissing Remus was a good thing. After all, he'd wanted to do it for years. But finally gathering the courage in the middle of the night while they were studying, and then just doing it probably wasn't the best approach. Then again, Sirius never thought things out, he just acted on instinct.

And instinct was telling him to kiss Remus again.

Sirius reached his hand to the back of Remus' neck and leaned in closer. He could feel the warmth of his cheeks and the breath from his lips. His fingers reached Remus' hair, his wonderfully soft hair, never wanting to let go. Sirius could've buried his nose forever in that hair, in the crook of Remus' neck, and just smelled him.

"I want to smell you," he murmured, but just before their lips touched, Remus pulled away.

He pushed Sirius' hand down. "Sirius, please stop. That isn't funny anymore."

Funny? This was a joke to him? Because it definitely wasn't, not to Sirius. "I didn't think it would make you so mad. Sorry, then," he grumbled.

Remus sighed, and then dropped his head into his arms. He stayed that way for a long time, not moving, and his hair covered his face completely so Sirius couldn't tell what he was thinking. Not that he'd have been able to anyway; Remus' mysteriousness was one of the things that made him so attractive. Sirius wanted to figure out the mystery.

"I'm not mad." Remus sighed again, his voice muffled from behind his arms. "I just don't want you to lie to me, Sirius."

Now Sirius was a liar? He'd taken a risk, kissed Remus not once but twice to show him how he felt, and now he was a liar? Wonderful. "How am I lying to you? I promise I'm not."

"Because..." When Remus raised his head, the tears on his cheeks glistened in the candlelight. He looked vulnerable and strong at the same time; never before had he been so alluring. "You don't like me. I'm not stupid, I can tell."

"I don't like you?" Sirius leaned forward, and this time Remus didn't look away. "Why do you think that? Didn't my kiss show you anything? It took me more than a year just to finally show you that I like you. I should get some credit for that."

Remus turned his head so that his hair once again covered his face, and the window to his thoughts was cut off. "I can tell. You don't act like you like me, not even now. You're casual about everything. Everything."

Sirius frowned. "So I can't just like you casually? Why does my liking you have to be obvious? I thought you liked hints and clues, and piecing things together and figuring things out. After all, when someone is too obvious you get embarrassed."

"That kiss was a bit too obvious, even if you did like me." Remus shook his head and reached for a roll of parchment and a quill. Sirius waited, thinking that perhaps Remus was writing out all his thoughts and feelings in a love note because he was too shy to say them aloud. But after a moment he began to read from one of the great many books, "The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul--"

Sirius yanked the book away. "Can't you just talk to me? I want to explain."

Remus bowed his head, and when he spoke his voice was strained and heavy. That was the first real emotion he'd shown all night. "I don't want you to explain. Everything, even my feelings, is a game to you. Just a game."

Remus flung his bag over his shoulder and stood up from the table. "You'll have to learn that life is more than a game, Sirius." He started walking toward the stairs without looking back, leaving the boy behind in a cloud of misery. He would keep walking until he forgot the kiss, until the pain disappeared from his mind and everything became clear. He would keep walking until he forgot Sirius, if he had to.

It's just a game to you, Sirius. And I don't want to play.