Chapter Text
Remus Lupin was a quiet guy. Shy, invisible Remus was unnoticed by everyone, and he preferred it this way, thank you very much.
Except for when he didn’t.
Sirius Black was a superstar. He was popular and loud and always surrounded by friends or had women hanging off of his gorgeous, lean frame. His black mess of curls - often held back in a fancy twist with his own wand - showed off the stunning silver earrings that decorated the entirety of Sirius’s ears. With facial features like a god and a slutty little waist like that - don't blame Remus, he’s not the one wearing crop tops everywhere - it’s no wonder he had the secret wolf blushing with even a fleeting moment of eye contact.
The only issue was that Remus was too fucking shy to ever approach someone like that.
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Sitting (and not paying attention) in the history of magic was proving very boring for Sirius. The only good thing about this class was getting to stare uninterrupted at the quiet Welsh kid sitting one row in front of him while his best friend - James Sleepyhead Potter - dozed off next to him.
The boy was too quiet, and Sirius couldn’t figure him out. He felt like Edward Cullen, not being able to read Bella’s thoughts, and that idea drove him insane.
He’d observed - not stalked - Lupin all over the school, and one thing was for sure: he liked to read.
The man always had a book in his hands, and it typically looked to be a poetry book. Sirius likes poetry. Okay, he could stand poetry. Fine! He thought it was boring and didn’t see the point, but if someone as fine as Lupin could get into it, then maybe Sirius could as well. He just had to come up with a way to get the man's attention.
Lupin was close enough to the word ‘loup’ in French, and if there was one thing Sirius knew about, it was the French language. He decided to write a poem about wolves in French for the boy to hopefully impress him - and to show how wild Sirius can get in bed ;) ;).
Writing out his poem in the neatest Black calligraphy lessons, ages 3-11, handwriting he could muster up, Sirius shoved James to get his approval.
“James, James, Jamie, wake up… does this look good?”
Ce soir, les loups sauvages hurlent à la lune.
Une symphonie sous la lumière argentée.
Des échos dansent dans l'air de minuit.
Un chant de liberté, brut et rare.
Leurs voix s'élèvent, un cri lugubre.
Alors que les ombres s'étendent dans le ciel.
Sous les étoiles, leurs esprits errent.
Dans la nature, ils trouvent leur foyer.
La forêt murmure de profonds secrets.
Alors que les loups rampent dans les ténèbres.
Leur hurlement est un appel, à la fois féroce et libre.
Un rappel du destin sauvage et déchaîné.
Ce soir, la lune est leur guide.
Alors qu'ils courent là où leurs instincts se heurtent.
Dans le silence qui suit leur chant,
Les loups savent où est leur place.
À travers les arbres centenaires et les ruisseaux étoilés,
Ils poursuivent les murmures de leurs rêves.
Chaque pas est une marque de la puissance de la nature.
Un voyage sauvage à travers la nuit.
Le vent porte leur chant envoûtant,
L'histoire de leur passé et de leur appartenance.
Dans l'immensité, ils ne sont pas seuls.
La lune et les loups ne font plus qu'un et ont grandi.
À chaque hurlement, ils touchent le ciel,
Un lien avec la terre qui ne meurt jamais.
Dans l'obscurité, ils retrouvent la vue,
Car les loups sauvages hurlent à la lune ce soir.
Clearly still delirious with sleep, James cracked an eyebrow and muttered, “It’s nice” before falling face-first back onto the desk. Sirius took that as confirmation enough and decided to spell it into the book Lupin was currently reading as a bookmark.
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Spotting a new bookmark just appearing out of nowhere, Remus pulled it out and opened it.
What appeared to be a poem or note written in French cursive was handwritten and clearly torn from a larger piece of parchment.
Scanning around the room quickly, Remus spotted no one staring or even glancing in his direction. He was going to have to go to the library after class to check out a French dictionary and figure this one out before he could even begin guessing who just charmed this into his book.
Packing up his stuff for the end of the lesson, Remus didn’t spot Sirius breaking off from his friends to follow him and continued to head up to the library.
Deciding against sitting for hours to translate, Remus asked Madam Prince if there were any books on language translation, and to his joy, there was.
Practising the incantation and wand movement for a few minutes, Remus aimed at the paper and said out loud, “ad linguam meam” and read the poem in its entirety.
Becoming more and more anxious, Remus quickly looked around the library and found no one looking at him, but still felt like he was being watched. Someone figured out he was a werewolf. Someone figured it out and was going to blackmail him, or GET HIM EXPELLED!
Remus was panicking and didn’t even pick up the poem before grabbing his bag and running as fast as he could through the castle, out the doors, through the whomping willow, and into the shrieking shack, where he could safely have a panic attack on his own.
In his panic, he didn’t notice a certain Black brother’s feet chasing after him from under an invisibility cloak.
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Well, that had not gone to plan.
Excitement from watching his crush reading a poem he wrote to worrying as he saw how anxious it made the boy, to snatching up the poem, and chasing after the apparent Olympic sprinter through the castle and a murderous tree into what looked like the haunted shack James was always banging on about during Hogsmead weekends.
Watching Lupin begin to have a panic attack, sucking in shallow breaths, and clawing at his facial scars, Sirius decided to step in.
Pulling off the invisibility cloak and tossing it over one of the piles of wooden scraps, he could only assume it used to be some sort of dining set. Sirius knelt and put his hand on the panicking boy's shoulder.
Apparently not the right move, as Remus, quick as a bullet, shot up and distanced himself from the Black brother.
“What are you doing here!?” His breathing was still shallow, and his eyes clearly couldn't focus as Sirius tried to make contact.
“I’ve never seen something I wrote panic someone so badly, including McGonagal in the first year when I made up my own equations to see if she read our essays for real. I had to check if you were alright.”
“You wrote that?” Still panicking, Sirius tried to morph his voice into someone you would use against a startled animal.
“Yeah, I did, I guess I was trying to flirt, but I really didn’t mean to freak you out.”
“How did you know? How did you figure it out!? Please, I’ll do anything. I'll do anything you ask, just don’t tell anyone!”
Sirius stopped the boys (hot) begging with a single hand. “Figure what out, Lupin?”
Lupin gestured to the balled-up poem in Sirius’s hand. “I figured you…”
Clearly not intending to finish his sentences, Black looked down at the poem, back, and Lupin then cast his eyes all around the little shack Remus seemed so familiar with. Looking back at Lupin’s facial scars, it clicked.
“You’re a werewolf.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement.
He watched as Remus’s shoulders slumped down, leading to the boy sliding down one of the grossest walls Sirius had ever seen in his life to hang his head in his hands. “I just outed myself, didn’t I?”
He seemed resigned. “Yeah, you did, but look, I don't care that you're a werewolf.” Hearing a bitter laugh from under the pile of sweaters and arms, Sirius decided to do something potentially very stupid.
“Let’s trade secrets for secrets.” Remus’s head shot up. “I know your little wolfy secret, and to show you that I won't tell anyone you don't want me to, I’ll show you my little animal secret”
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Remus watched in a state of shock as the man, the human Sirius Black, transformed on the spot into a giant black dog.
Immediately, Black leapt up onto Remus and began nudging his arms with his - somehow damp - snoot, which prompted him into giving in and petting Sirius as a dog.
He hadn’t heard himself laugh this freely in years, but luckily, he sobered when he realised he was borderline snuggling a classmate of his and not an actual dog.
Sirius seemed to notice the shift and transformed back, still on Remus’s lap, which caused a very obvious hitch in breath and colouring blush from the wolf.
“Do you know why I wrote that poem?”
Still avoiding eye contact. “No, I don’t”
Remus felt Sirius lift his head by the chin, causing eye contact with the most gorgeous pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Grey like moonstone and deep as a storm. He was pinned, and he thinks Sirius knows it, too.
“Because of this..” Sirius moved in and kissed him.