Chapter 1: 29 Pearls In Your Kiss, a Singing Smile
Chapter Text
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The area had reached its capacity, swelled up to the high-risen ceilings with aromatics and praise. Hands traced constellations on the pale of his skin like they knew him, like they ever really could. But the black star only saw the full moon, bathed in lamplight and an utter quiet, seated on the settee like a question he could never answer. Humming a hymn he was never holy enough to sing.
Gryffindor parties were like heaven for Sirius Orion Black III. All sweaty bodies, faces Sirius vaguely recognised. Attention . Attention was where he thrived: loud music, sweat, and getting so drunk that the walls seemed to breathe and the fire smiled. Like a fish in water, Sirius in the spotlight. He was fully aware of the size twenty denim that his ego wore, and he was unapologetic about it. Sirius knew who he was. And who he was, was a name that people knew. Sirius Black . Handsome. Witty. Rebellious. All characteristics Sirius had heard to describe himself often by girls in passing. He liked being acknowledged. He liked having girls on his arm like badges of honour, collecting as many as possible in one night. He liked having eyes on him, ears listening to him, and mouths talking about him. He liked mouths talking about him just as much as he liked having mouths moving on him, with the curtains to his four-poster bed closed and his wand casting a silencing charm.
Black was sure that life couldn’t get much better than this. His head was pleasantly empty as he drank more and more of the firewhiskey supply, hands on his chest and back and jaw as bashful giggles and the soaring pipes of Bowie washed over his muffled processing. The dark muggle makeup around his eyes was smudged and running with sweat. Red and pink and purple and orange all dusted his jaw, the pigment making his skin as sticky as the lips that left them. Bruises were bitten into his throat that he didn’t even remember getting by the time they were left. How many drinks in was he? Probably too much. James was standing behind his shoulder, one strong, tan hand on the opposite shoulder. He could barely hear James. James was talking, but the music was too loud for Sirius to register.
“What?!” He called over the exciting jazz of Fame by Bowie, fading into Love Machine by The Miracles, his arm siding with James coming to sling over his best mate’s shoulder. “Bare bird’s lush! Smiled at me!” James repeated, slopping a healthy amount of foaming amber liquid down his front. Sirius followed James’ eyes, trying not to betray just how little he could see. A fire of red hair was all Sirius could spot. Sirius had a thing for blonds, not redheads like James. “ Chopsy bird, James,” Sirius slurred, blinking rapidly as his eyes trailed down to his shorter friend. “You find Moony, then?”
James gestured distantly to someplace away from where he was looking, and Sirius ducked beneath James’ arm in an attempt to go find his Moony.
If Sirius had one kryptonite, it would be Moony. No one could quite grasp why Sirius Black, reputable and practically famous within the English Wizarding Community, followed Remus around like a stray dog. Remus wasn’t like Sirius and James, or even Peter, in any sense. James was loud and obnoxious and talked too much, though he seemed to pick up birds as easily as they came with his sense of humour. Sirius was mysterious and aloof— at least, that's how he liked to be perceived. All looks. Peter was Peter– Peter followed them around and handled their affairs… affairs being fetching them snacks from the kitchen and covering for them during the execution of their practical jokes. But Remus was.. Different. Remus was straight magic, he was. He moved unnaturally, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was tall, taller than Sirius, with eyes to put the glittering of an aquamarine ocean to shame. Olive skin that bi-toned with marred scars Sirius remembered witnessing him receive. He had hands to make Sirius wish his neck was a bit narrower, a voice that made Sirius wish for him to never stop speaking. Low and slow and all silks and velvet. And Godrick, did the wit on him put George Carlin to shame. He had a tongue so sharp, Sirius often wondered if it was Remus who had been sorted into the wrong house. It made Sirius’ legs weak. But Sirius was no frit. He liked birds. It took a good man to acknowledge when another man had a gift of beauty, even if birds didn’t take advantage of it.
Lupin stood out like a moon amidst a clear sky. He wasn’t wrapped in leather and denim like Sirius, bludgered out of his mind and stumbling like he didn’t have an end goal. Golden curls made Black’s fingers twitch, and blue eyes made him long to see them looking up at him. He was nursing a glass goblet of firewhiskey, and Sirius’s eyes lingered on his hands as he drew close enough to really spot Lupin. “Moons.” Sirius chanted like a prayer as he grew close enough to see the scars on Remus’ face.
Lupin looked up, a messy eyebrow raised and his blue eyes narrowed, and Sirius swore that if he hadn’t collapsed onto the sofa beside him, he would’ve lost his balance. Remus said something, and Sirius clutched his head as it pounded. “What?!” Sirius called for the second time that night, and a little self-satisfied smile broke out on his face as Remus shook his head exasperatedly. “Piss drunk!” Remus called after leaning in, making Sirius wince and cup his hand over his ear, laughing. Sirius didn’t recognise his own voice, and it was difficult to see straight. Exactly the way he liked to be. “I am,” Sirius slurred.
Remus was looking at him funny, and Sirius shot him a bright, cheeky grin. Reluctantly, Remus smiled back, a dimple only in his left cheek and his teeth stained from tea. Sirius brought a hand up (that didn’t quite feel like it was his own) to rest on the back cushion of the sofa, resting his cheek against his knuckles. His hand was cold, and it felt good against his too-hot face. Distantly, he wondered if his face was as red as it felt. And Sirius was unsure as to how long he stayed there. Long enough for his hand to go numb, his head to go dizzy, and his stomach to lurch. Black paid no mind, for as long as his mate was with him, things were okay.
“Look nice tonight, Remmy.” Sirius garbled, hardly understanding himself. His eyes felt good as they looked up at Remus, his lids low and his eyebrows furrowed. Remus was still looking at him funny, but he abandoned that for a moment to lean in, ear extended like he expected Sirius to repeat himself, as a song Sirius didn’t recognise faded into a new one. “Never mind, mate,” Sirius uttered, turning his head to grin into the top of his hand. Remus scoffed with an amused roll of his eyes, and Sirius felt his mouth water. Just the nausea, Sirius told himself. There was a heat that curled behind his ribs and between his organs. Not from the whiskey, nor the feeling of the hands on him belonging to girls he didn’t know, that left his skin feeling pleasantly tingly.
Remus could see through the swagger and the smeared eyeliner and the performative chaos that Sirius wore on his chest like a plate of armour. The absent blinking of those gorgeous seafoam blue eyes made Sirius’ stomach cramp. He blinked at Black slowly, but no words were shared between them. Remus’ eyes flitted over Sirius, taking in the leather boots, the denim that was a bit too tight, the white shirt beneath his jacket, the leather adorned with frays and tears. Then the hickeys on Sirius’ neck, Sirius’ smile, Sirius’ eyes that looked so hazy and pleased. Black hardly caught the way Remus’ throat bobbed. Something about Remus’ gaze, quiet and unreadable, made Sirius feel painfully starved, and yet full all the same. He wished, then, that Remus would say something equally soft as it was ruinous. Undo him completely. Sirius felt the swirling heat in his gut like butterflies were battering against the tissue cage of it. Remus only blinked at him before standing up. Sirius’ eyes trailed over him, in all his height. A pair of khaki pants, a brown jumper with his white collar peaking out from beneath it, and his hands in his pockets, fag snuffed on the side table and the butt flicked into the crowd. “Off to bed,” Remus told Sirius, quiet over the chatter yet likely loud to his own ears, and Sirius nodded absently, content to watch Remus walk away as much as he was content to simply sit in silence.
The next morning, all Sirius could remember was that funny way Remus had looked at him the night before.
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Sirius had a new girl every night. All pretty blonde curls and bright blue eyes that stared up at him when he got them beneath him. Sirius wondered who it was he wished they belonged to, the person who put a lurching desperation and a debilitating sense of longing in the seat of his heart. Sirius brushed it off. He simply had a preference. No harm in that. He was just particular. Choosy. So what if all his girls had that softness in their jaw, those long noses? Those same blue eyes, although none of them were quite the right shade?
Sirius Black is not gay. Only once had he said it out loud. Third year, Sirius had just turned fourteen following November 3rd. James made a joke about Sirius staring a bit too long at their handsome new Muggle Studies professor. “Not my thing,” Sirius had said flippantly, with a careless toss of his hair and a cool shrug. He’d repeated it enough times in his head that it was simply true. He could find it in himself to admit when a man was attractive, and when a man had features that birds might find important in a boy. It just meant that Sirius had a firm sense of identity, didn’t it? He wasn’t insecure in his masculinity. He knew what he was.
He wasn’t gay.
Absently, Sirius told himself, he caught himself watching doors that Remus was bound to walk through to see the way he walked, and the way he nodded curtly at Sirius when seen. It came in Sirius’s dreams often, the way Remus had looked at him that night. Quiet, like Remus always was. A quality that made Sirius’ chest tighten with a softness he wasn’t quite sure he knew how to use. Quiet, like Sirius was a secret in need of unfolding, although Remus knew just about everything there was to know about Sirius Black.
Remus had walked away, of course. That’s what Remus always did. Just when Sirius got close enough to say something he meant far too desperately, Remus was on his feet and waving goodbye shyly. He walked away before things got too real. And Sirius.. Stayed behind. He sat and he wallowed with the thought of how lucky he was to have such a friend as Remus Lupin, his skin still tingly with a thousand touches that didn’t matter quite as much as the way Remus looked at him did.
Sirius half-hoped that Remus would give him something to hold onto. Seeing him with anyone made a surge of jealousy touch down in his throat. Even if it was just tutoring. Assigned partners in Potions. Sitting a little further down the dining table. It was disabling, and it made Sirius furious, and he wasn’t even sure why. He half-hoped Remus would brush him on accident. Say something that meant something. Smile at him a little more than that shy, tight-lipped smile that just barely displayed those pretty, tea-stained teeth and the gap between them. But years bled into years, and Remus never had. Sirius told himself that it was all fine. Remus was his own person, perfectly capable of having his own friends. Just like Sirius. Capable of having his own relationships. His own birds. They were just mates.
Late one Tuesday evening, Sirius found himself awake in the dark of the boys’ dormitory. Eyes burned from straining against the dark, and his feet felt uncomfortably numb. So, Sirius rose from his bed, expecting to find Remus up late reading like he always was. All he saw was James, sprawled out too far to be comfortable and snoring like a slow-moving vehicle, and Peter, asleep with his pillow pushed into his ears. Black found Remus down in the common room alone, lights dim save for the firelight and the floating candles. Remus was on that same settee, his knees pulled and laid over to rest against the armrest, a book too dense for fun rested atop his thighs.
No crowd. No music. No alcohol. And yet, Sirius didn’t feel out of his element. Of course he didn’t, because Remus was there. One elbow on the armrest his legs were pressed against, his mouth covered by his knuckles, while his fingers played with the neck of his jumper. He looked calm like that. Sirius felt a tug in his stomach.
“Alright, Moons?” Sirius asked softly. Like he was telling a secret. Remus looked at him, slow and cautious. Head first, then his eyes, he was finishing what he was reading before looking at Sirius. Remus blinked once.. Then twice. The stretch was killing Sirius. And finally, Remus spoke. “You’re up late.”
Sirius shrugged, leaning over to place one hand on the carpet. Then the other, and he used his hands to brace himself as he sank to sit on the carpet on the opposite side of the coffee table, facing Remus. “Could say the same to you.” Remus hummed, and his eyes fell back down to his book, and a page turned slowly.
All night, Sirius had been up thinking. Thinking so hard that when he finally was willing to fall asleep, he couldn’t. Remus knew things. A lot of things. He had plenty of experiences that the other boys didn’t have. Especially with his emotions, his head. How he dealt with things. Sirius felt a lump in his throat at the thought of asking Remus what had been on his mind. He wouldn’t. The time wasn’t right. Sirius was Sirius. And Sirius wasn’t a boy who cowered into his mates’ hands when he was grappling with emotions he didn’t understand. Instead, Sirius watched as Remus watched him, those eyes trained on him. Staring at him funny, like he did that night. Sirius realised, now that he was sober, that Remus had been studying him. And as he realised his truth, three more fundamental ones followed it.
First, Sirius realised that all he had been looking for lay right in front of him. Blond curls, a soft jawline, a long nose, and blue eyes. Only these blue eyes that were looking at him now were exactly the kind he had been looking for. Sirius was realising that yes, Remus’ eyes were the eyes he wanted to see. The ones he had always wanted to see.
Second, Sirius Black might have been wrong about himself. Sirius thought he knew everything there was to know about himself. He was smart, he was good-looking, and he was a womaniser. And he wasn’t gay.
And third, Sirius was deeply in love with his best mate.
The understanding of it must’ve had Sirius looking at Remus silly, because Remus narrowed his eyes with a raised eyebrow, and a small quirk in the corner of his lips. “You coming up to bed soon?” Sirius stumbled, panicking to try and find something to say, to break this silence, and dispense something to dissolve the awkwardness that came with Sirius just.. Staring at Remus. Sirius watched a bit of realisation dawn on Lupin’s pretty features, then watched his eyes trail to glance at the great mahogany Grandfather Clock on the wall. Remus hummed absently, and Sirius’s eyes locked onto Remus’ hand as it closed the thick novel in his lap. “Didn’t realise how late it was,” Remus admitted, and Sirius hoped Remus hadn’t noticed the way his shoulders slumped a bit with relief.
It’s not that Sirius was a faggot . He didn’t prance around kissing blokes and taking it up the rear. That wasn’t Sirius. Sirius was all about birds! It just so happened that the first person for him to have a real, genuine connection with, in this way, was a bloke. He was still Sirius. Black cast his eyes down, studying his own hands as they rested, clasped, on the table. It almost felt like he was outside of his own body, hearing Remus speak.
“You never told me why you came looking for me,” Remus commented, and Sirius knew he was right. Remus read. That’s what he did— some nights, he wouldn’t come up to their bedroom until as late as two in the morning. It was only thirty minutes past midnight, and Sirius knew that. Normally, he wouldn’t have gone looking for Remus. “Nor why you’re awake at this hour. Sirius Black needs his beauty sleep, don’t he?”
Sirius breathed a chuckle and rolled his eyes as he grabbed the settee behind him, a strayed feline familiar atop the cushion meowing angrily. Sirius roughed up the cat’s fur in a pet before grabbing the cushion again and prying himself back up to his feet. “Just.. thinking,” Sirius told him honestly. And he was thinking, he was. “Not sure why I came looking. Suppose I was lonely.” Sirius said it in a joking tone, and he knew it was a lie. He simply didn’t want to be anywhere Remus wasn’t. The idea made him queasy.
Remus rolled those pretty eyes and unfolded his long, thin legs before him until he was sitting properly, before pulling himself up. He had a quirk in the corner of his lips that fed Sirius’ ego, inflating it impossibly larger. It made Sirius grin, and he grabbed the doorway into the staircase, swinging on it into the stairwell as Remus lingered, and walked a bit slower.
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STATISTICS:
Chapter One
3081 words.
20-25 minute read time
Proofread using Grammarly, not Beta Read
Two-hour write time
Overview: Sirius realises he is definitely gay.
Chapter 2: Coffee Smell and Lilac Skin, Your Flame in Me
Summary:
STATISTICS:
Chapter Two
3019 words.
15-20 minute read time
Proofread using Grammarly, Beta Read
Four-hour write time
Overview: Remus is so gay, and been knowing it.
Chapter Text
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Alcohol was for people with no self-control and a will to destroy the lives of the drinkers and those around them. That’s what Remus always told himself. The smell of the sharp sour on his mother made him sick, and it was a scent that stuck with him. His mother was a light drinker. A glass of wine before she left for work at a Muggle cafe, a glass of wine at dinner, and a few more while she watched late-night soap operas, his father out risking his life in the pursuit of a ghastly predator.
This might’ve been why Remus hated Gryffindor parties. The lights were blinding, and with an impending and so-called “Moony Moon,” a phrase coined by his friends, everything was a little hazy. The sour smell of alcohol was strong and everywhere he went, and the noise was nearly debilitating. Often, he reminded himself to fix his face should any party-goer happen to glance at him and wonder why he looked so sour. Always about presentation, was Moony.
Lupin knew full well that studying should’ve been what he had been doing. He was smart, and he knew studying wasn’t at all necessary for him to pass his classes with flying colours this year. But it was a smart usage of his time. Not the thrashing and grinding of bodies, he recognised, and the pounding headache behind his temples, nursing a glass of alcohol that he hadn’t even considered drinking yet. It was Bowie playing, Remus knew that. He had introduced Bowie to Sirius in their second year. Sirius had taken an immediate liking, and in some way Remus would never understand, Sirius only needed about a week to know absolutely everything there was to know about the artist.
Remus thought of that as the song swelled. Sirius was probably singing his heart out somewhere. The idea made him want to smile, but he didn’t for the sake of saving face. He hadn’t mingled with his friends yet, save for Wormtail by the portrait door. He was speaking with a group of pretty girls he fancied, but Remus knew they were only talking to him because they found him a little brotherly sort of cute. Peter had already embarrassed himself too many times to count tonight, but he didn’t seem to let it stop him at all. Despite all Remus knew about Peter, everything he did reminded Remus that the shy, quiet and awkward boy was all the Gryffindor that James was.
Whenever these parties went on, Remus didn’t bother hiding out in the dormitories. He would hear the music all the same, and as much as he claimed he didn’t care, Remus knew he was missing out. So, he remained on one of the empty settees and let his thoughts take him to places a bit higher above where he was now. Where he was now was staring at the back of the head of the boy that seemed to plague his thoughts more than he would’ve liked. The boy who had two girls under his arms, and one against his chest, her arms around his shoulders with a pretty smile lined with colour. A pretty smile that didn’t match the drunken, thousand-watt smile that flashed from his boy’s mouth, with canines that bit his bottom lip and a twitch on the right side that made the corner sit just a bit higher than the other. The girls’ smile lines were powdered down so that their makeup didn’t crease, but Sirius wore his like a badge. Smiles that showed every tooth and popped up more often than they didn’t. When Sirius found James, and James gestured toward Remus, Remus ducked his head. Getting caught staring would insinuate that he was feeling left out, and Sirius would drag him right into the fray, which Remus certainly would not enjoy. He wasn’t interested in being surrounded by women who longed for Sirius, when Remus wished with his whole being that he was the one beneath Black’s arm.
“Moons,” Sirius had said, and Remus lifted his head, swallowing the tightness in the base of his throat. Remus raised an eyebrow, in typical fashion, and watched as Sirius collapsed onto the cushion beside Remus. Black reeked of booze, and Remus wished he could find it within himself to hate it. “Piss drunk,” He commented, and Sirius blinked up at Remus cluelessly. His eyes were an icy blue, a round shape. His iris was above where his bottom eyelid was, and it gave him a permanent sort of beg in his eyes. It made Remus’ stomach flip. Remus shook his head exasperatedly, truly finished with himself, before leaning in.
“Piss drunk!” Remus repeated, and while he felt a bit mean for leaning in and then yelling in Sirius’s ear, it was a bit rewarding seeing the way Sirius acted up his playful groan and the dramatic cup of his hand over his ear. “I am,” Sirius admitted, and Remus almost rolled his eyes. He was. There was no real point in saying it. But instead of saying this, Remus took it upon himself to look Sirius over.
His dark hair, which typically curled prettily around his ears and the base of his neck, was board straight and sticking in all sorts of directions, oily from countless hands run through it. Those eyes, ringed with Muggle eyeliner, now stuck out on his face like a sore thumb. Piercing, they were, such a pretty, icy blue. The black only made it prettier. Sirius always looked better when he had makeup on his face. He had marks over his lips, his chin, the apple of his cheeks, and his jaw. Pinks and reds and purples and oranges, all lipstick from different girls he had spoken to tonight. Each hickey on Sirius’s neck was a participation trophy. Remus wondered when Sirius would point out the fact that Remus had simply been staring at him, but he never did. He did say something, but his eyes were hazy and lidded with desperation. Remus leaned in, a silent ask for Sirius to repeat himself. Sirius laughed breathlessly, and Remus got a strong whiff of alcohol off the boy’s breath. His boy’s breath. There was a twinge in his chest. “Never mind, mate,” Sirius had told Remus, and turned his head to hide his grin in the back of his hand. Cute.
Remus didn’t let himself display that thought, though. He scoffed and shook his head with an exasperated smile, but Sirius didn’t move. He stayed curled up in a position halfway on the couch that had to be uncomfortable, facing Remus, but his head turned to hide his grin, for probably thirty seconds. Enough for Remus’ throat to get tight and the collar of his shirt a bit itchy. Abruptly, Lupin stood. It almost seemed to scare Sirius, and Remus nearly felt bad. “Off to bed.”
In the hope Sirius would follow him, Remus retreated up to the dormitories. But after thirty minutes of being hidden beneath his sheets, he realised that no one was coming for him. And so, Remus rolled over and went to sleep.
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Nothing was different for Remus over the next several months. Days passed into weeks and weeks into months, but things were always the same. Remus’ eyes always found Sirius in every room they were in together. His ears perked when he heard that ringing, although obnoxious, bark of a laugh. His heart stutters when his wolfish nose picks up on that iron-filled scent that reeks of heaven. But none of this is new. For the better portion of his life, Sirius was what filled his senses from the moment he woke up to the moment he lay down to sleep at night. It was nothing new to him that Sirius was all he could think about. Still, there were bigger fish to fry, even if the chips looked oh-so appetising.
These fish, appropriately, were called Mary MacDonald and Marlene McKinnon. The girls who seemed to know too much about everything when it came to Remus. Why, he couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t necessarily close with them. And yet here they were, cornering Remus along the moving staircase after dinner. Remus had never been sly; he knew this. He hardly cast girls a glance, and yet he could stare at Sirius until his eyes burned and still not look away. And yet, when they asked him about it, it still managed to shock him. “No. I’m not gay.” Remus had said promptly, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms like Marlene had just said something deeply offensive. “What makes you think that?”
Mary looked at him like he was stupid, and Remus was fully aware that there was no lying to them. Despite Remus never quite spending time with them, it occurred to him as they spoke that they got a lot of their information from Lily, who got all of her information from James, now that they were going steady. Not to say they got information about his queerness from James. No, Remus knew that James could never find out. Not that he wouldn’t be accepting. James was an asshole, but he wasn’t heartless. No, because Sirius and Remus were best friends. Sirius and James were also best friends, as were Remus and James. It would end up as a severely uncomfortable situation for James, and James was bound to tell Sirius. Sirius would’ve either reciprocated feelings or he wouldn’t have, and either way, it would’ve been disastrous if things didn’t end right.
And so, Remus was in the debt of Mary and Marlene for the foreseeable future. Not because he wanted to, or because they were blackmailing him over his queerness, but because Remus convinced himself that if he didn’t do whatever they wanted him to, they would out him to Lily, who would immediately tell James, and the whole thing would get back to Sirius. That’s why Remus was stuck scrubbing toilets for Marlene today, her detention dealt after blowing one up using a potion smuggled out of class. Mary lingered nearby so as not to let Marlene be alone with Remus in the girls’ loo. They were talking about something, but Remus didn’t really register until he heard the name that raced through his thoughts every waking second of every day since he was twelve years old.
“Sirius,” Mary had finished her sentence, and Remus tried not to let it show how his attention had snapped from scrubbing blackened crust from the porcelain seats to listening to exactly what Mary was saying. “Not to get behind you, Remus,” Mary said apologetically, and Remus shook his head like it was fine. He had no idea what had been said, but it couldn’t have been good if she was apologising. “He’s just a.. A right dog! Lily’s sayin’ that he’s growing on her, spending time with Potter and hearin’ about him and whatnot. But I just..” Mary sighed, as Marlene sat atop the counter, her feet resting in the basin of the sink and marring the porcelain with the dirt from her trainers. “He ain’t good for anyone. No one seems to see it, though.” Remus could feel the burning on the back of his head, and he promptly ignored it. The girls liked to beat dead horses regularly, Remus had noticed after spending a week or so with them, doing whatever deeds they asked of him like a house elf. They liked to talk all about scandals from years past, occasionally adding on extra information they didn’t have before. Berate anyone they could think of. But Remus really couldn’t stand when they spoke about Sirius.
He knew Sirius was bad. He was inappropriate, a pervert. A jerk, really. Inconsiderate, egotistical. But what Remus minded more than all of Sirius’ flaws was hearing his name come out of anyone’s mouth, especially two girls as conventionally attractive as Mary and Marlene. Remus was sure Sirius had wound up having them both at some point. It wouldn’t surprise him. The thought made him sick. Remus scrubbed at the porcelain with a newfound vigour that must’ve shocked the girls into quiet, because Sirius wasn’t spoken about again.
☪
As it turns out, the girls hadn’t had any intentions whatsoever of telling anyone about Remus’ not-so-subtle infatuation with Sirius. Remus hadn’t realised this at the time, but not every girl was out to get him. Girls just tended to make him uncomfortable. They were pretty. Soft, and they always smelled sickeningly sweet, with hair that was too long and likely in the way, and all these frilly outfits that Remus could never imagine someone being comfortable in. They just tended to make him a little antsy and nervous, like he was desperate to get away and find solace in the familiarity of the hard planes and musky, woodsy scent of Sirius’s bicep. A boy can dream, can’t he?
To escape, Remus did what he would any other day. Reading was the only thing that could keep his brain from being reminded of Sirius. Reading meant that his eyes had to look at a page, at words, and comprehend them, and force away these thoughts that plagued him from day to day. Troll Revolts, Wizarding Hierarchies… Oscar Wilde. Things of the sort. And typically, Remus went uninterrupted. His mates had no real interest in reading for entertainment like he did. They didn’t read to clear their heads, not even for their homework assignments. And so, when faced with someone busy reading, they tended to avoid said reader. That was Remus so frequently got away with reading late into the night. In the common room, sometimes, most of the time in their dormitory, perched atop his bed. Tonight was one of the few times that Remus resided in the common room to read, a thick textbook on the founders of Hogwarts that he found particularly interesting.
Read, read, read, read. That’s what Remus did. From the time he got back from dinner until Sirius padded his way down to the common room. In a pair of soft trousers suited for sleeping, mismatched socks, and some random t-shirt that Remus was pretty sure belonged to Peter, considering the way it fit on Sirius’s lean frame. He looked so sweet. Long hair tangled up around his ears, from what Remus could guess, had been tossing and turning. Tired eyes and a curious expression. Nothing could beat the tenderness that came with seeing Sirius dressed down like this, where no one could see him but the people he trusted most. It made Remus’ stomach grow painfully tight.
“Alright, Moons?” Sirius asked quietly, one of his strong hands hanging onto the doorway of the stairwell. Focus, Remus, he desperately told himself, blinking a few times in an effort to calm himself down. It wasn’t easy, not when the boy you’ve grown up having a massive crush on is standing right in front of you, rubbing his eyes and looking so, so sweet. “You’re up late,” Remus murmured quietly. And Sirius was. Never was Sirius seen awake past 9 pm, unless there was a party to throw. He looked like he had strained every last vessel he had to stay up this late. Remus forced himself to look away as Sirius shrugged, grew closer, and sank to sit on the carpet. His knees cracked as he did, and Remus watched one of the familiars lift its head angrily at the scent of a dog in the vicinity. “Could say the same to you.” Remus couldn’t fault him for that, but Remus wasn’t actually up that late. Not for him, at least. Maybe for Sirius. Remus didn’t say anything, and Sirius didn’t prod… so, Remus said nothing.
Years later, when Remus would be wallowing alone in his flat, nursing a muggle whiskey and wiping tears that never seemed to stop coming, Remus would think back on this moment. The moment that Sirius Black realised that he had been hopelessly in love with his best mate, and the moment Remus had noticed… but not quite. And Remus would crumple the daily paper, his lover’s resistance animated on its front page, and throw it in the garbage.
Sirius had been staring at him in a way that made Remus a little uncomfortable. He had eyes that seemed to bug out and stare right down into your soul, and sometimes, Remus found it difficult to meet his eyes. Lupin raised a questioning eyebrow, narrowing his eyes. He hadn’t realised it now, but he had just changed the trajectory of Sirius’s forever. If he hadn’t fallen so deeply in love with Remus, he would’ve never been out at the pub with Remus on Halloween of 1981. He would’ve been at his best mate’s home, preparing to watch a Quidditch game and drinking in. He would’ve been there for his friends, and he never would’ve been locked away. Remus had ruined his life forever, and he wouldn’t know it, nor hold it against him, until he was mourning the loss of both his brothers from a falsely claimed prison cell.
“You never told me why you came looking for me… Nor why you’re awake at this hour. Sirius Black needs his beauty sleep, don’t he?” Remus felt his stomach flip when Sirius laughed, and he tried to find something to blame it on when Remus shyly came to press a hand to his stomach. Luckily, Sirius didn’t comment, nor even look. Lupin felt a bit of a pang of disappointment at that, but he refused to let it show on his face. “Just… thinking. Not sure why I came looking. Suppose I was lonely.” Remus couldn’t think of any way to respond to this. His boy was lonely? The thought made him sick. So, Remus rolled his playfully and closed his book, saying absolutely nothing as he rose from the settee. Sirius grinned at him, and it was Sirius going upstairs first. Like always, it was Sirius parading his way up the stairs, dancing in a way, and Remus quietly ascending behind him.
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STATISTICS:
Chapter Two
3019 words.
15-20 minute read time
Proofread using Grammarly, Beta Read
Four-hour write time
Overview: Remus is so gay, and been knowing it.