As it turns out, you can in fact deny your crush on Sirius for a while longer, and as Christmas gets closer, you've thrown yourself into the season of giving; making a very admirable attempt to pour all of your focus into the purchasing of gifts for your friends and family and not allowing your mind the chance to wander back onto the topic of your liking Sirius. It works for a little while, but like all other distractions it's only temporary, and at the end of the day when all the gifts are bought and everything is said and done, the feelings are still there, as real as ever and showing no signs of dissipating.

And, Okay- so maybe it's salt in the wound when you declare in one of your letters to home that you'll be spending your Christmas at Hogwarts instead of with your family. You've never done so before, and with this being your last chance at it they have no reason to object. But with the castle basically barren of all its students, it leaves you with less distractions than a holiday away from Hogwarts would provide you, and instead gives you ample time to go and visit Sirius, who you fear is starting to catch on to your sudden change in behavior around him.

Each brush of hands, hug goodbye that lasts for far longer than that between friends, or look directed towards you that's full of fondness sends you spiraling, and trying to act like it doesn't affect you usually ends in you making you making a fool of yourself. Perhaps your reasons for staying behind don't lie in sentimentalism, but rather it's just you subconsciously giving yourself more reasons to confess. You're here, you have the time, and isn't it the perfect setting? You're already failing at keeping it together around him, so why not go ahead and unload your feelings on the poor chap!

You just want to pretend a little longer- pretend that you still only see him as a friend, because if you confess, you might lose him forever. You know you can't keep avoiding it, and considering your complete inability to put on any sort of façade in front of Sirius, who's able to see through your lies with the same ease as a person who's known you forever can, you know it won't be long until he puts two and two together. You're not very convincing, and trying to act like nothing has changed in you when it very clearly has isn't going to work the way you want to. You're going to have to go to him with the truth eventually.

The only choice you have is to confess, and accepting that is one challenge out of the way, but executing it is an entirely different story. How are you supposed to say something like that out loud? You'd ask your friends for advice; send them a letter and ask for the boost of confidence you so desperately need to do such a thing, but you know they'd ask questions and try to force an answer out of you over who your new mysterious crush is, and you obviously can't tell them.

Feeling as if planning a way to do it will only cause you more grief, and being left to your own devices to figure out how to proceed with getting your feelings out there, you decide to leave it to chance; because chance, fate or whatever it was that keeps putting you in these situations has never failed you before, and the chance encounter that led you to becoming this close to Sirius in the first place is the perfect example. It'll come to you eventually, you hope; an opportune moment or an impulsive split second decision to just blurt out the words and get it over with, like ripping off a bandage- but hopefully not as unpleasant.

At least by pouring your focus into Christmas shopping, you've gotten it done faster than your usual way of leaving it to the last second allows, and slowly but surely you've gathered a rather large pile of gifts for the people in your life. There's an array of muggle pranking products (sent to you courtesy of your dad, since you can't very well buy them from Hogsmeade) that have been charmed to amplify their abilities to that of the standards of a magical gag item set aside for Fred and George, stationery for your fellow 7th year friends so they can send letters to each other after graduation, clothing, and sweets are also among the things you've gathered.

Despite the fact that the sheer thought of him is causing you so much trouble, you'd like to buy Sirius something as well. After all he's been through it feels weird to not get him anything for what is his first Christmas in over a decade that isn't being spent in a prison cell. It's not an ideal situation- far from it, but the least you can do is get him something to brighten his day. But what? It's not like you can get him just anything; he is still on the run from aurors and dementors alike after all. You get him food all the time, so that's out... Maybe some deodorant? No... It has to be something good, and considering he can't even see Harry open the present he got him, he'll need a significant distraction.

The answer is right there in front of you, striking you with inspiration and the perfect gift for Sirius. Simple, yet meaningful. Nothing else could quite compare to what you have in mind now, and you know he'll appreciate the gesture. As quickly as the idea enters your mind, you're bounding over to one of the tables in the common room and finding a spare piece of parchment to write out a letter to home.

"Dear Mum,

Can I put in a gift request with you if it's not too late? If my lack of presence this Christmas doesn't put you in a giving enough mood to comply, then please pass this to dad, maybe he'll be more willing.

Do you remember that camera we saw in Diagon Alley during the summer?..."

***

The weekend just before Christmas, you wake to Crookshanks jumping onto your chest to get your attention; in his mouth is a pouch of coins jingling away, courtesy of Sirius' vault. He sits on top of you, staring down at you expectantly. When you go to take the pouch from between his teeth, he turns his head away, shunning you.

It's way too early to be getting the cold shoulder from a cat of all things.

"What? Are you expecting payment?" He turns back at the question, as if to say 'obviously'. This feels awfully reminiscent of your first few encounters with Sirius in his animagus form, but you can't tell which of the two is the bad influence on the other.

"I don't have any food, so will a nice pet on the head work?" You ask hopefully. He narrows his eyes, and soon enough drops the pouch from his mouth, his tail flicking angrily against your face as he jumps down off of you to leave; obviously not seeing it as a sufficient enough payment.

"Rude." You mumble.

With Crookshanks gone and Sirius' money in hand, you don't waste any time getting ready and setting off to Hogsmeade; catching the last carriage available just in time to get to Spintwitches before they close for the holiday.

After you finally get your hands on the Firebolt for Harry- and your brother's obligatory riding gloves stashed safely in your bag (If only he could see you now; he'd probably faint at the fact that you of all people have touched a real Firebolt with your own flying-inept hands.) And with Hogsmeade free of classmates that might wonder why you of all people are holding what is currently the best broom on the market, you're able to walk freely to the Shrieking Shack to deliver Harry's present to Sirius.

The long trek from Hogsmeade to the Shack, which sits far up on a hill a ways away, does nothing to ease your nerves like you wanted it to, and the butterflies in your stomach begin their movements once more. You're getting tired of having to brace yourself each time you visit Sirius in order to keep yourself collected in his presence, which again, is not working at all. If there's any reason to confess, aside from the fact that it's what you're supposed to do in a situation like this, it'd be to stop the incessant torment of your own body working against you by doing its damnedest to get you to show how you feel.

Godric, you're in deep.

***

You sit at the end of the bed in the Shrieking Shack, trying not to pay too much attention to Sirius as he fumbles with gift wrap, tape stuck in his tangled hair and a focused look on his face, tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempts to wrap the Firebolt. It's proving to be a losing battle for you; it's such an endearing sight, can you really be blamed for wanting to watch?

"[Y/N], you're relishing in my struggles, aren't you?" He finally addresses you after catching you trying to subtly glance at him out of the corner of your eye for what would be the tenth time so far.

"Just a little," You say, moving off of the bed to sit down on the floor next to him, gesturing for him to hand you the tape so you can help. "You know if it's proving to be that difficult to wrap, I could just use my wand and have it done in less than a second if needed."

"Yes, I know that; but it's the principal of it all. As painful as this is, this is the personal touch I've missed out on."

You pick up a bow, sticking it to his forehead. "There, all done. Who needs a broom when they can get gifted such a considerate person such as yourself instead?"

His mouth twitches, and the determined look he's held the entire time he's been attempting to wrap Harry's present is chipping away to reveal his amusement. "Flattery will get you nowhere, [Y/N]"

"I'm here, aren't I? That's somewhere." You point out.

Soon enough there's a bow on your face to match his. "There, a present just for me." He says it so casually, eyes staring into yours with a playful smile. His gaze has your stomach in knots, but you can't look away.

This is a moment, isn't it? This is definitely a moment. You two are having a moment. So why aren't you saying anything? Or have you forgotten about your oh-so-brilliant plan to wait until the perfect moment strikes to confess your feelings to him? The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, but your lips form a tight line, refusing to let them go.

You pull the bow off your face and rub the area it once was on, breaking the eye contact shared between you and Sirius and hoping that the redness of your cheeks hasn't decided now to be the perfect time to show up and make your crush known before you have the chance to do it yourself. The chance which is now so unquestionably available to you yet you're too scared to take.

He frowns at the action, worried that he's somehow offended you. "Is there something wrong? You've been acting a bit off lately. Usually you have some kind of insult to throw back at me when I tease you like this."

"No- No you've done nothing wrong-"

"Is someone bothering you? If someone's trying to corner you under mistletoe or anything of the sorts, I'll have a word with them in whatever form is most likely to scar them for life. I swear to it." He lowers his voice; his tone lacks the humor it usually holds when in your company, and his face changes into a look that almost makes you worry for these nonexistent people who dare to bother you. It sounds like he'd be out for blood if something of the sort were to ever occur.

You're quick to deny the assumption, shaking your head before he can get carried away with the unneeded threats. "Nope, no; nothing like that. I've just got something else on my mind... Distracting me. And you know it's kind of hard to take a threat like that seriously when you still have that bow on your forehead."

He doesn't bat an eye. "It adds character, gives me depth. I have layers like an onion, or this broom, which I may have put too much wrapping paper on because now I don't know which end is which." He says seriously as he gestures to the Firebolt, but with the lightness in his voice he holds just for you clear once again.

You roll your eyes, plucking the bow off his head and planting it on the middle of the broom. "That makes the big reveal much more satisfying." You turn away from him to roll up your sleeve, glancing down at your watch and pretending to actually take notice of the time as if you actually have somewhere else to be. "Now, would you look at the time? I should head back early with this and drop it off with the gifts being sent in by owls, so no one will notice me walking into the castle with a broom in hand. See you!" You say hurriedly, picking up the broom with one hand and standing to leave.

"[Y/N]." Sirius grabs your arm gently before you can go, a concerned look on his face as he speaks softly. "You know you can tell me if something's bothering you, right? Anything that might be, I'm here to hear it."

You bite your lip. "I know." You can tell him, right here and now and be done with it. Say the words, 'I like you!' and accept whatever would come from that. He's giving you the opportunity to save this moment you're about to waste. The trust is there, the feeling that even if he denies your confession, you trust him enough to not hate you for it. You trust him enough that he won't make you feel like a fool.

But, that's the thing though... You're pretty sure he feels something for you, too. The likelihood of him reciprocating may just be higher than you're allowing yourself to believe.

Instead of speaking your peace once and for all, you give him a small smile, the only one you can muster; one that you pray he doesn't see through, and leave with nothing more than a wordless goodbye. How many more chances like this are you going to let fall through your grasp?

***

You can barely sleep the night before Christmas, tossing and turning and unable to fall into the restless sleep you so badly want. It's been the same thing each night, as if each failed encounter with Sirius and missed opportunity to tell him your feelings for him are haunting you, forcing you awake and not giving you any escape. Unable to try anymore and before your alarm can wake you or the sun can rise and welcome the day, you're changed and out of bed when you hear the sound of house-elves apparating into the common room to drop off the Christmas gifts delivered to the only four remaining Gryffindors in the castle; tip-toeing down the steps from the dorms as soon as they've gone.

You make your way down to the carefully decorated Christmas tree that sits in the corner of the room, freshly delivered gifts placed at its base, and sit down on the floor next to the pile of gifts that have your name scrawled on each one. You open them one by one in the quiet of the empty common room -choosing to set aside the muggle crackers gifted to you by your dad for Sirius, who you think will enjoy them- and eventually Ron and Harry make their way down from the boys dormitory, and Hermione from the girls as morning arrives; each greeting you as they enter the common room. They sit grouped together in the other corner of the room, opening their own gifts and conversing amongst themselves happily.

When you reach your last box, you cross your fingers in hopes that your mother had obliged your request, and when you tear away the wrappers, finding a box labeled "INSTANT PICKY-PICKWHICKETT'S PICTURE PRINTING CAMERA" in flashy text, you want to shed a tear in happiness. You're keen to unveil it from its box, examining it with delight. It's the exact camera you asked for, one reminiscent of the Polaroid cameras your dad had when he was younger, but it's no muggle technology. The camera is the newest on the market despite its visage looking like an older muggle version, and it has the obvious advancements of a wizard camera.

A gasp alerts your attention away from the camera, and you glance up to the other side of the room, where Harry, Ron and Hermione sit now surrounded by torn scraps of wrapping paper, all three looking down at the most recently opened present in Harry's lap- the Firebolt.

Sirius has definitely outdone himself. Ron and Harry look as if they've just unveiled the holy grail of all gifts; Hermione on the other hand, is staring at it intently with a scrutinizing gaze.

It's sheer luck that he would open it at the same time that you finally get your hands on the camera you needed just for this occasion. Not wanting to miss out on the perfect shot, you immediately hold the camera up to your eye; training it on the scene in front of you and snapping a picture with a click. The flash from the camera alerts their attention away from the broom and onto you.

"Blimey, [Y/N], I thought it was Colin Creevy, and he's gone home for Christmas! What was that for?" Ron says, still looking startled.

This feels vaguely like stalker behavior, but you mean well, so it's fine. Probably. "Well, it's my last year, and it's also my first time spending Christmas in the castle, so I figured now's a good a time as any to take some pictures to remember it by. Since you guys are here, you're kind of a part of the experience. You don't mind, do you? I can make you copies if you'd like."

"That's alright." Says Harry. Hermione nods in agreement, but hasn't yet looked away from the Firebolt.

"Actually, can you make me a copy? Mum would be mad if she found out I could've gotten a photo of us on Christmas morning and passed the offer up." Ron adds.

With a quick duplication charm, you're handing off a copy of the photo to the boy, who thanks you silently.

"I'm going to go to the Owlery right away so I can send a letter of thanks to my parents for the presents. I might take a stroll too, so I'll see you guys later at the feast." You say, trying to give yourself an alibi for the next few hours of your absence. It's not like you can tell the group of thirteen year olds that you're planning on spending your Christmas day with the notorious Sirius Black.

At the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione comes up to you with an unreadable expression as you're shrugging on your winter jacket.

"Do you want a copy of the picture, too?" You ask.

She shakes her head. "I'm merely curious, you were in the common room before the rest of us- did you happen to see a card attached to the broom that Harry got? I was wondering if it could've fallen off and gotten mixed in with your presents."

Nothing gets past her, does it? Crookshanks must get that from her. "Nope, I didn't see any card. I'm guessing you're not content with simply accepting that someone sent Harry a Firebolt?" She nods. "Maybe you should drop it," Does that sound too harsh? And what kind of diversion is that even supposed to be? Because telling someone to drop it is totally not suspicious at all. You try to clarify before she speaks again. "I mean, it is Christmas; maybe someone decided to spread some joy and splurged a bit. If I had the money, I'd probably be buying everyone brooms just because I could."

She crosses her arms, looking rather unsure of herself now. "Did you get it for him, then?"

Does acting as Sirius' personal shopper count? "Definitely not."

You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she starts to devise another theory on the source of the gift. "Oh, well. See you at the feast, then." She nods, letting you go about your business and freeing you from her questioning when she turns on her heel to bound back to Ron and Harry, who both frown when she begins to talk again. You can almost hear her scolding their unconcerned attitudes about the mysterious gift from the portrait hole.

When you exit the common room, you run a hand across your forehead when the portrait shuts behind you. Hermione Granger is far more intimidating than you originally thought.

***

It's silent aside from the crunch of untouched snow underfoot as you walk to the Whomping Willow; maybe it's the absence of life on campus that makes it feel far more quiet than it is in the middle of the night, since even then the trip is accompanied by the sounds of the nocturnal creatures of the Forbidden Forest being at their peak activity just nearby. But there are no creatures to hear from on this cold Christmas day, and no students or faculty around to see you near the dangerous tree, aiming your wand at its base and freely casting a stunning spell directly at it.

One thing you can now confirm is that it's definitely a lot easier to visit Sirius this way at night, because you know no one will get a good look at the branches of the tree being frozen by a spell in the dark. Just before you slide into the tunnel, you cast the reversal spell to your previous one, allowing the tree to move once more now that you're out of harm's way.

You continue on your way, and when you reach the end of the tunnel, pushing away the floorboard and climbing into the shack, you call out for Sirius. You hear as the floor above you creaks as soon as you say his name, and watch as Sirius hurries down the steps and into your line of site.

He looks confused to see you, rubbing his eyes to assure that he's not imagining it. "[Y/N], what are you doing here?" His voice is groggy, and it doesn't take you long to realize he must've been trying to sleep the day away.

"Celebrating Christmas with you, obviously."

"But your friends..."

"You need to start including yourself when you mention my friends. We're still friends, aren't we?"

"Of course."

"Then come on, stop blocking the stairs and let's get a move on. And if it makes you feel better, I'm the only Gryffindor above the age of thirteen who decided to stay, so you're the only friend I have available right now."

He places a hand to his heart as you both enter the room, draping himself onto the lounge in comical fashion. "I feel so special."

You sit beside him on the floor, not minding the thin layer of dust that covers it. "You should; I could be dealing with three preteens who are much more mature than you are."

"If anything, your taste in company says a lot about you. If I'm immature, then what does that make you if you want to be around me so much?"

A lovesick fool? "An idiot." You swallow hard. "Who comes bearing glad tidings in the form of crackers." You open your bag, handing one off to him. "The muggle kind, though; I think my dad figured I'd have an endless supply of wizard ones available to me at school."

When he sees the crackers, he really fits the whole description of a 'kid on Christmas morning'. "I never thought I'd miss the sight of these so much. Lily used to get them for us when we were young; entertainment value for hours. I might've fought James for the best prizes on more than one occasion."

"See what I mean about immaturity?"

"Laugh all you want, but I know what to expect from wizarding crackers, these on the other hand..." He trails off, pulling on the end of the cracker and opening it with the trademark anticlimactic pop of the muggle product; his grin remains as he rummages through the packaging. "Ah-ha! Look at that," He clicks his prize of a miniature flashlight, waving the barely visible light in front of your face. "Muggle ingenuity."

Seeing him so happy reminds you of the other reason why you've come. You fiddle with the picture in your pocket, one that you know will make his day more than a simple Christmas cracker can. "Here." You take the picture out, handing it over to him. "I can't wrap it, but this is my present to you."

"You didn't have to get me anything-"

"Too bad. It's about time you start making memories with Harry, so why not start with having a proper picture of him?"

The mood in the room shifts when he realizes what he's looking at in the photograph. It's a bittersweet scene to see as he stares down at it intently, watching the looping image of his Harry open his gift and knowing how much he wants to be able to see his godson firsthand with a sad gaze. But when he looks back at you in awe that you managed to capture a moment like that for him in a photograph, you know you made the right gift choice.

"I figured with a gift like a Firebolt, you should be able to see his reaction to it, so..."

"[Y/N] this is... This is more than I could've ever asked for. You've truly blown me away. How can I ever repay you for this?"

Here's a concept: who wants to go through the rigmarole of a wordy confession? You're never going to get anywhere if you keep trying to confess with words that you're too terrified to speak out loud. And hey, there's no better time like the present than to possibly destroy your friendship with the man who's looking at you with such adoration in his eyes. Words, who needs 'em, right?

"I have an idea." You say. No, no you definitely do not; this is what happens when you don't have an idea. This is what you call a rash decision.

"Anything, absolutely anything. I doubt whatever you ask will compare to such a gift, but I'll do my best."

"You just have to trust me, okay? You have to..." Not hate you forever? "Not freak out."

He eyes you warily at your words, but still nods. "Okay..."

"You have to close your eyes." He looks hesitant.

"Are you going to prank me? If you're going to prank me then I'll allow it just this once. Just don't mess with my hair, please."

"I swear this isn't a prank. Just shut up for a moment, will you? Merlin, you make it seem like I'm the annoying one." You chuckle nervously.

To be fair, this definitely isn't the worst thing your impulses have led you to do. It's now or never, and it's too late to turn back and go running for the hills. If your pride is mortally wounded, so be it. At least you tried.

Your hands come up to gently cup Sirius' face, and a thumb caresses against the scruff of his cheek. You feel him still underneath the contact, and over the sound of your rapidly beating heart you can hear the sharp intake of his breath; but he doesn't move away, and makes no attempt to stop what you're certain he knows you're about to do.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you lean in and press your lips to his cold, chapped ones. It's nothing more than a chaste kiss, but goosebumps still line your arms at the sheer intimacy. Sirius leans into the feeling of your lips on his, and his hand finds itself splayed out against the middle of your back, pulling you closer to him. He's bold, taking the delicate flesh of your bottom lip between his teeth and further initiating the kiss.

Why all of your doubt and insecurities feel this is the most opportune time to float up to the surface, you'll never know. It's distinctly apparent that he must, in some fraction of a way feel something similar for you, because why would he kiss back? But as the kiss deepens, turning from a chaste kiss to something more, you can't help but wonder if he thinks this is all you wanted. What if because you decided to not use your words, it isn't clear what you're trying to purvey with such an audacious act? All of the sudden this no longer feels like a good idea; it feels like you've messed up beyond repair. You want to revel in this moment, allow the sensation of how good it feels to kiss him take over, but you've made a mistake, doing this before you've made it clear to him why you're doing it in the first place and possibly misleading him into believing all you want from him is some kind of casual fling to be forgotten about immediately after.

Your eyes snap open at the thought, and you break the kiss when it finally hits you why this might not be the appropriate course of action. A little too late for that.

Sirius is confused by your sudden cold shoulder, his breathing slightly uneven as he looks at you through heavy lidded eyes. Oh, merlin, you did that, didn't you? You want to do it again, too. You're screwed.

"Well, Merry Christmas!" You nearly shout, stumbling up from the ground and away from him ungracefully. "That was fun; great times! I don't have to come back ever again if you don't want me to! I'm sorry, goodbye!" Your words come out strangled and awkward. You swiftly grab your bag off the floor, leaving a bewildered Sirius in your dust as you leave the room.

This isn't even a walk of shame; this is a run of mortification and you're about to win the gold medal. How are you even a Gryffindor if you're too scared to face him after pulling such a stunt? You're the one who thought it was a good idea. Talk about sending mixed feelings! That's the best reaction you could've gotten, and now you're running away like a coward because of your own decision to not make it clear how you feel before you start kissing the guy.

He's probably already thinking about what a mistake it was to reciprocate, because why would he want to mess up the good friendship you share-

Before you can make your way down the steps, two arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a firm body. Sirius hides his face in the crook of your neck, his hair brushing against you and his arms tightening around your middle.

"Please, don't go. Not like this." He says, and you feel like crying at the desperation in his tone. With his close proximity you can feel his breath on your ear and it sends a chill down your spine. A slender hand grips your shoulder and directs you to turn back around to look at him. Facing him head on now is too much. How are you supposed to meet his eyes after such a stunt; one that you promptly got up and left from right when you realized the severity of what you were doing?

The words are pouring out of you before you can think properly of what to say to him, with your eyes tightly shut and your head bowed so he can't see your face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just thought maybe if I confessed and got it all out in the open I'd stop thinking about it. But I didn't even do it right, I just kissed you like a dolt and now I've ruined it- I've ruined it all because of silly feelings you probably don't share. There's so much more at stake right now than my own feelings, and now you're never going to want to see me again and I still haven't helped enough. I just wish I could've done more before I messed everything up. Everything I've done doesn't feel like enough because you deserve so much more than this."

"[Y/N]."

"And now I still feel the same way about you but you're never going to want to see me ever again-"

"[Y/N]."

"-Because I'm so stupid and selfish and-"

"[Y/N]!"

You pause, clamping your mouth shut and swiftly wiping away the stray tears that escaped with your sudden explosion of a jumbled mess of words that you yourself can barely understand and look back up at him. His brows are furrowed, and he's probably baffled by your outburst, but his mouth is upturned in a small reassuring smile.

"It's okay."

"Could you... Elaborate on that, please." You say weakly.

"My sweet girl," The words escape his lips so slowly, and sound soothing as they come out as a simple whisper. Your eyes drift down to glance at his lips, watching as he speaks. "You've done so much- more than enough. From the first day you met me you were kind to me; even when I was a simple dog to you, you were kind. And then to find out the truth all on your own, to come face me not knowing what could come from that, and then to believe me, and to help me after all of that? I've spent years alone, [Y/N]. Years alone and terrified and believing that beyond the bars of that cell there was no one out there who'd be willing to believe me. Yet you did. You, the person I never expected in a million years to enter my life. You've given me hope and far beyond what I deserve. I want you to be happy, [Y/N]. I want you to be happy because even when the darkest moments of my life creep up to taunt me once more, you're there for me, to give me the same happiness that I want for you to experience. To know that you feel this way about me makes me feel like the happiest man alive, but I can't be selfish with you. You're going to find that outside the walls of Hogwarts there are far better people to be with than me. People who can give you more than I ever could."

"Don't I have the right to choose who I want? If- if you want me too..." The words sound foreign coming from you; like you're thinking too highly of yourself. But that's what you've been hoping to hear for weeks, and now that you have, it's him who's denying it. "Then why... Why tell me to that?"

Your words have brought him to a standstill, and he's wracking his brain for any kind of excuse, anything that might justify stopping this before it can go any further, but you can see it, the want in his eyes that's trying its damnedest to overshadow anything he can come up with. "I'm just going to end up dragging you down." He whispers.

"And if you did? Isn't it my decision to make whether I let that happen or not?"

"That's-"

"The truth. And you know it. But if you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave."

"Then be selfish, please. You've done your time, now just be selfish, okay? I want you to be selfish if it means I get to stay with you. So doesn't that make me selfish, too?"

You watch as his hesitation falls away; melts off his face like wax on a candle when he accepts that this might just work, that in the end you might both come out of this without stain, because you both want it to, and you both want to be at the other's side come what may. He gives you a small smile as a hand comes to tip your chin up, drawing you closer to him. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"It's all part of my plan to seduce you, obviously." You say, attempting to sound serious, but failing miserably.

"Yes, yes. Hate to ruin that plan of yours, right?" His thumb grazes your bottom lip. "I suppose we can both be selfish, together."

His lips connect with yours, and it's as if the kiss has picked up from where you ended it so abruptly. It's hungry and overtakes all of your senses, leaving neither of you wanting to be the first one to end it. You feel lighter when you kiss him back, your worries fading out and being replaced with only the feeling of his lips on yours. A kiss that deepens with every passing second to reveal the emotions you share, the ones that not only you have been feeling this whole time.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he leads you away from the steps, your back hitting against the wall. One hand moves to rest against the small of your back, pulling you closer against him, while the other nestles itself in your hair, moving to rest at the nape of your neck. Your mouth opens slightly, and it gives him ample opportunity to slip his tongue inside, dragging it across the sensitive skin of the roof of your mouth in a tantalizingly slow movement. It's perhaps the most passionate kiss you've ever had, and it's far worth the wait.

"Sirius," You try to say as you break away to breath, and it comes out as a whimper. You feel him let out a ragged breath against your mouth when you say his name in such a way, so filled with desire that your face burns with how lewd it comes out.

He hums in response, words evading him as he takes his lips off of yours and moves to pepper your face with kisses, as to free your mouth long enough for you to speak.

You'd like to do it again, and again and again until one of you finally decides that oxygen is a vital part of survival and you both are going to need it if you want to live long enough to kiss each other again. Did kissing always feel this nice? You can't remember ever liking it so much, but you're not complaining.

"This is the best gift I could've asked for."

With you still having time to spend with him before the Christmas Feast starts, when you finally move away from each other, you both resign back to sitting together on the bed in each other's arms. There's a comfortable silence between the two of you as your hands find themselves intertwined, and if anyone could see the two of you like this, they'd probably be in shock; you with your head resting against Sirius Black's chest, who's staring down at your held hands with a dreamy look, the both of you now wearing the flimsy colorful crowns that you had nearly forgotten about from the cracker packaging.

The blissful smile that has yet to disappear from Sirius' face is a welcoming sight, one that you swear to yourself to never allow to fade. You want him to have more reasons to smile like that; you want him to have a whole life of them.

Sirius is the first to break the silence. "To think you took the initiative before me..." Sirius says.

You turn back to look at him with wide eyes. "You- you were going to confess? To me?"

"I was going to tell you, or at least, I considered it; the day when you brought up the idea for Harry's present? But, I don't know... Maybe you're braver than you realize, because I didn't have the guts. I thought maybe it was too soon, I thought maybe you would feel pitied into accepting me, or you would leave and never return. I thought a lot of things, all of them wrong, now." He admits with a sheepish grin, though the bashfulness doesn't last for long, and you almost groan when it twists into a teasing look. "All things considered, I like your way better than mine. That was awfully romantic, as far as surprise confessions go. Did you plan that? Or were you just acting on your unquenchable desire for me?"

Way to ruin the moment, man. You give him a short look and pretend to be cross with him. "You know what, I changed my mind; you've successfully made me regret every word that has come out of my mouth today." You say without emotion, moving to leave the bed. "I think I'm going to mail Oliver Wood and see if he'll go on a date with me-"

Sirius pulls you back against him, lips planting themselves against your neck. You can feel him smile against your skin. "Not so fast, [Y/N]. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Trust me, I know."