A fire burned softly in the fireplace, casting the common room in a quiet gold. Outside, the wind whistled through the tree branches, cold tapping against the windows in an attempt to reach the warmth.

Not that it was successful. Remus leaned further into the sofa, Sirius curled up on top of him with his head resting on the taller boy's chest, asleep.

They had been lying like that for an hour or so, Remus running his fingers through those dark, dark locks, Sirius dozing occasionally, and every now and then he would look up and the two boys would kiss lazily, smiles shared between them.

Eventually, Sirius had fallen asleep. Remus didn't have the heart to move him (despite the fact that he could no longer feel his legs).

But that was okay. As long as Sirius was happy, Remus was happy.

Pulling Sirius closer, Remus studied the frost that clung to the window. It spiralled and curled with careful practice, its icy fingers gentle on the glass.

Beautiful. And yet, there were more beautiful things.

Remus pressed his lips to Sirius' forehead, while the other snored loudly.

"Merry Christmas, Padfoot," he whispered. The wind picked up, humming beneath the floorboards.