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Chapter Text

Remus Lupin lay on the ground of a deserted park, a wooden cane clutched in his hand and a bag containing all his possessions tucked under his head of messy light brown curls, counting down the hours until he returned to Hogwarts University. He had been doing his best not to replay the events of this summer in his mind, but there was little else to occupy his thoughts. It was too painful to walk any distance that might ease his mind. Besides, his leg was already throbbing as he lay there; adding walking to the train stop while lugging his bag over his shoulder to the growing list of worries was something he was desperately trying to avoid thinking about.

Three hours and twenty-three minutes

Remus reached into the pocket of his faded, worn-out jeans and retrieved his new class schedule and housing accommodation. He held it above his head, the sun shining through the paper and turning it a soft yellow color. His eyes scanned the week’s schedule. It was full but with enough downtime to stay on top of his work. Mondays and Wednesdays mirrored each other, starting with a Sociology of Gender lecture, followed by a Psychology of Learning seminar, and ending with an Educational Policy and Practice lecture—three back-to-back classes with little break in between. Tuesdays and Thursdays featured a morning Astronomy lecture, an afternoon Writing and Research Skills workshop, and a Critical Pedagogy seminar. Fridays were more relaxed, providing Remus with dedicated time for independent study to catch up, reflect, and prepare for the upcoming week.

He flipped the paper over already knowing that his room accommodation would be different from last year. Due to the incident this summer that left him semi-dependent on his cane, he would no longer be able to ascend the spiral staircase of Gryffindor Hall to his old room on the fourth floor with enough consistency to room there. An ember of anger ignited in his chest as he remembered the phone call he had made to the housing department explaining his newfound need for a ground-level room with as little detail as humanly possible. The raspy voice on the other end of the line seemed less than pleased to be making a switch so late but obliged nonetheless. She had squawked that she would have to displace another student in order to meet his needs as if Remus had been plotting to disturb her life’s work of carefully placing each student in their respective sleeping arrangement. Skimming the paper, he learned that he would now reside in room 104 with a boy named James Potter. It wasn’t a lot of information to go on, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to care much. He would miss his old dorm mate, Fred—not because they were particularly close, quite the opposite. Fred Longbottom was quiet and didn’t bother Remus with small talk or invitations to go out. They were pleasant with each other, kept the room tidy, and didn’t touch each other’s belongings, which, in Remus’ eyes, was the ideal situation when it came to forced proximity. He shoved the paper back into his patched-up pocket and turned his head to the side, observing the grass he was lying in while shielding his eyes from the sun, which was growing stronger by the minute.

Boredom was something Remus was beginning to think might be the cause of his premature death. Time seemed to inch by, practically crawling at this point. Could you actually see grass grow? Either he was starting to hallucinate, or the blades had indeed sprouted a millimeter or two since he had begun monitoring them like it was his job.

Two hours and seventeen minutes

Today was a difficult day for Remus’ leg. He could barely move it without experiencing a stabbing sensation that made him feel as if the entire appendage was on fire. He took a deep breath, swallowing the thick summer air, knowing it would likely take him twice as long as the usual forty-five-minute walk he could manage last summer. The idea of lying there until he withered away was incredibly tempting, but he steeled himself and counted to three before attempting to get up. The moment he tensed his muscles to sit up, the pain made him want to vomit. He could feel where his skin had been stretched tight to heal itself. On days like this, Remus swore his body was trying to tear itself open again.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Remus stood to his full height and glanced down at his bag, which seemed lightyears away. He knew he would have to bend down to retrieve it. Was it even worth the effort? Feeling the beads of sweat already forming on his temple, Remus wasn’t sure. The bag was practically falling apart, covered in holes and poorly sown together—Remus Lupin was many things, but a seamstress was not one of them. Unfortunately, everything he owned was in the rumpled duffel, and Remus knew he couldn’t afford to replace a single item—he had barely scrounged up enough money to catch the train back to school. Wincing as he bent over, balancing on his good leg, he grabbed the tattered strap and hoisted the bag onto his back before slowly straightening himself up.

"Fuck," Remus muttered to himself, half from the pain radiating through every inch of his left leg, and half because he glanced at his watch and saw that it had taken him a full ten minutes just to stand up and gather his belongings.

Two hours and seven minutes

Slowly and painstakingly, the boy limped closer to the train station, taking frequent breaks whenever he felt like he might pass out. He cursed himself for not having pushed through the distance to the train station earlier when the painkillers were still working at full capacity. At the time, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to lie down at the park. He knew there was no chance of getting any sleep at the station, with the noise of people and the trains bustling in and out. Plus, the park had become something of a safe haven since he had left—or, more accurately, since he had been kicked out of his home. Regardless, the decision had been made, and he was committed to the plan now. When he reached the halfway point of his journey, he checked his watch.

One hour and one minute

At this pace, he would never make it. Sweat soaked through Remus' clothes, and he felt equally disgusting inside and out. His breaths were ragged, and his mouth was so dry that he could feel his tongue starting to crack. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and take the weight off his leg, but there was no time. Remus knew that if he sat down, he was unlikely to ever get back up. Throwing his doctor's words of caution to not “overdo” the pain meds out the door, Remus shifted his bag to the front of his body, wobbling his weight onto his right leg while balancing his cane against himself. He needed another painkiller. Popping the cap off the bottle, he carefully shook it against his lips until two pills fell into his mouth. He choked them down, the lack of moisture causing the pills to stick in his throat. It took a minute of coughing and repeated swallowing, but finally, the medicine unlodged itself and slid down. Remus screwed the lid back on the bottle, repositioned his bag against his back, and reclaimed his cane before setting off again, waiting for the relief to settle the nerves in his leg.

After another twenty-five minutes of strained limping, Remus was finally starting to feel some relief, courtesy of the small white pills. Ignoring the fact that he had already exceeded his recommended dosage, he felt oddly pleased with his problem-solving skills. With only minutes to spare, he hobbled to the ticket counter and purchased his fare. By the time he reached the platform, all the other passengers had already boarded. As quickly as he could manage, Remus stepped onto the train and scanned for an empty space. Within a couple of minutes, he found a spot where he could stretch his long limbs and finally take a well-deserved respite.

One minute

Faintly, he heard the train whistle blow, signaling the start of the next part of his journey back to Hogwarts. As he closed his eyes and began to drift off, he knew he had about two hours from Wales to London before he’d have to think about walking again. Remus refused to face that reality until he absolutely had to. Within five minutes he had dozed off into a deep sleep.

Startling awake at the sensation of a hand on his shoulder, Remus flinched so violently that he hit his leg against the wall of the train. Stifling the urge to scream from the immediate return of the intense pain, he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. The girl standing in front of him looked regretful, clearly not meaning to frighten him.

"Sorry, I just thought you should know we've arrived in London," she said, wringing her hands together.

"Oh," Remus croaked, his mouth even drier now, leaving his throat feeling like sandpaper. "Erm, thanks," he added, coughing.

"Here." The small, straight-haired blonde girl began digging around in her bag before extending a water bottle toward him.

Remus shifted uncomfortably. "I can't pay for that."

Offering a warm smile, she shook her head. "That's quite alright. I'm a bit of an overpacker; I brought three with me."

Feeling sheepish but unable to refuse, Remus took the bottle from her. "Thank you."

"You’re very welcome. Well, I’d better be off before my mum starts to worry." With that, she picked up her bag and walked away.

Remus unscrewed the lid of the bottle and drank half of it before returning the cap to the top. The relief was instantaneous and he desperately wanted to finish it, but knew he was better off saving some of it for his walk later. Despite what others – his father – might say, Remus was capable of thinking things through and making rational decisions. He bent down and tucked the bottle in his bag for safekeeping before grabbing his cane to stand.

“Shit,” Remus muttered as he felt a stinging in his hand. Flipping it over to examine his palm, he realized that large blisters had formed where the cane had rubbed his skin raw during the trek to the station back in Wales. “Perfect…” he added, knowing that the rest of the walk would be even worse than he had anticipated. With a deep sigh, he stood and reached for his bag, knowing that he might as well get it over with. He walked stiffly out of the London station and toward the street. Sulking in self-pity for the grueling walk ahead, Remus was barely conscious of his movements when he ran into a small figure. Immediately coming back to himself and mumbling apologies he looked down to see it was the same girl from the train.

“Are you a student at Hogwarts?!” She blurted staring at his jumper.

Remus looked down and noticed he was still wearing his university sweater, which, in hindsight, might not have been the best choice for the dead of summer. But he couldn’t bear the thought of people seeing how bony his body had become after weeks spent sleeping outside, or the bruises and scuffs from last week when some bloke had jumped him and stolen the small amount of cash he'd managed to stash when he fled his home. Apparently, the secondhand books and old clothes he'd been carrying were of no interest to the guy, which Remus thought he should probably be grateful for. It was in this moment that the tall, slightly freckled boy became acutely aware of just how ragged he must look. The loose curls on the left side of his face were plastered to his head where it had pressed against the train window, the sweat drying them into place. His jumper was scuffed with dirt in several places, and although these were his favorite jeans, he wasn’t delusional about their state. Not to mention his cane and the very pronounced limp that accompanied him.

“Um, yeah. Second year there,” he said, trying to hide how uncomfortable he felt.

“Get out! Me too! My mum’s picking me up to drop me off there,” she said, all smiles and perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

“That’s nice,” Remus replied. “Are you waitin’ to get picked up too? We can wait together if you like!” Her voice remained chirpy.

Remus coughed and quickly looked away. “No, I... um… I’m walkin’ from here. Sorry ‘bout runnin’ into you and everything.”

“Oh,” her cheerful demeanor faltered slightly, “well, you should just wait with me an’ get a ride with my mum. She should be here soon.”

Under normal circumstances, Remus would’ve politely declined immediately knowing that the girl had probably only offered out of pity. However, his body was scream­ing at him to agree, and he had very little fight left in him.

He cleared his throat. “Are you... sure? I wouldn’t wanna be a bother. I normally walk from here.” What are you doin’?! You’ll never make it on your own! his inner voice screamed.

“No trouble at all!” Her smile returned with full force. “My name’s Marlene.” She extended her hand to him.

“Remus,” he replied, moving his bag to the ground to shake her outstretched hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Remus. Oh, there she is! Let’s go, she doesn’t like to park—says it’s more trouble than it’s worth, so I just meet her on the street.” Marlene was already walking briskly toward the car.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Remus quickly picked up his bag and followed her. As he approached, he heard Marlene speaking through the unrolled window of the car. “Mum, this is my friend Remus. He’s a student at Hogwarts too. Is it alright if he hitches a ride?”

The woman in the car glanced around her at the lanky boy with purple bags under his eyes, looking like Marlene had just pulled him from the gutter. She faltered, a slight pinch to her face before she relented. “Fine, fine, just get in the car. I don’t wanna try finding a parking space, an’ people are already honkin’.”

With that, Remus and Marlene piled into the car, which jerked into motion. Remus sat in the back of the white station wagon, his legs crammed into the back of the passenger seat, listening as Marlene recounted her summer. She’d gone to visit a family member, an aunt if Remus remembered correctly, and spent her days hiking, visiting waterfalls, and camping. He did his best to ask follow-up questions to avoid having to talk about his own summer.

With great relief, they finally pulled up to Hogwarts. Remus thanked Marlene’s mother before extricating himself from the back seat, cane, and bag in hand. With another thanks and a promise to see Marlene soon to hang out—one he had no intention of keeping—he set off toward the housing department to collect his room key.

Remus received more than a few wary glances at Housing, but he was just grateful the line was short, and it didn’t take long before he was heading to Gryffindor Hall. Upon arriving at the door, he pulled the newly procured key from his pocket and opened it, relieved to find that his roommate, James, had yet to arrive. As much as he wanted to collapse onto the bed and sleep for the next two weeks, the pressing need for a shower took precedence. He hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks, resorting to cleaning up in public bathroom sinks as best as he could. Quickly grabbing the cleanest, comfiest clothes he could find along with his toothbrush, toothpaste, and half-used bar of soap he hurried off to the bathroom.

Turning the shower to the hottest temperature possible, Remus stepped in and felt the scalding water rush over him. He washed himself thoroughly, letting the water soothe him before standing still, allowing the steam to release some of the tension that had taken up residence in every muscle. When he could no longer stand on his leg, he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a dorm-provided towel around his body. Lowering himself onto the closed toilet lid, he dried off and dressed in a fresh jumper and trousers.

Once he had rested for a bit, he stood over the sink and brushed his teeth. When Remus finally finished, he gathered the courage to look himself in the mirror. The face staring back at him was closer to his own than what he had seen in the public bathrooms, but he still didn’t fully recognize the reflection. There was something hollow and broken about the boy trapped in the glass. Feeling even more tired at the realization, Remus turned, grabbed his cane that had been propped against the wall, and made his way to bed, stopping only to grab the water bottle from his bag to finish the remaining half.

Selecting the bed closest to the window, he pulled back the covers, crawled in, and closed his eyes.

—-

Too soon, Remus was jolted awake by the door slamming open as someone shuffled their belongings into the room. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, he looked toward the source of the disturbance. A medium-height boy with dark, tousled hair framing a sharp face and high cheekbones was carrying several bags, which he set down next to the unoccupied bed. This must be James Potter.

Noticing Remus stirring, James paused in his movements and looked over at the sleep-rumpled boy. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to wake ya. These bags are so bloody heavy, it’s ‘ard to be quiet.” He offered a kind smile that seemed to brighten his entire face. “I’m James Potter. You must be Remu.”

Remus blinked, confused. Was he really that out of it, or did this boy just call him Remu? James must have noticed the furrowed expression forming on Remus’ face because he quickly added, “Or... are you, Benjy? I got a notice a couple of weeks ago that the arrangement had been changed.”

“That’s not my name,” was all Remus could manage, still groggy from sleep.

James fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it before handing it to Remus. “Sorry, mate. Guess I’m just a bit confused. Maybe they switched it again and it was too late to send a notice.”

Peering down at the paper, Remus read the black ink clearly printed on the stark white sheet: Dormmate: Remu Lupin. It was a typo. But for some reason, it made the corner of his mouth twitch into a half-smile.

“They misspelled it. My name is Remus.” He breathed, handing the paper back to James.

“Well, it’s great to meet you mate! Are you excited for the year? What degree program are you in?” James asked pushing his round glasses back into place.

“Um yeah, good to be back. I’m studying Education, ehrm, what about you?” Remus always found it a bit difficult to make conversation, even one as simple as this. He had grown up with no siblings, his father didn’t care much for idle chatter, and his mother was a taciturn t woman.

James didn’t seem to mind much. He answered easily, “Psychology,” then launched into a full-scale explanation. “I could’ve gone with something boring, like politics or business—the usual, safe stuff—but I wanted something that actually made sense to me. I’ve been told I’m good with people–intuitive. It’s like when I’m on the footie pitch—you’ve got to read the game, predict what’s coming next. But with people, it’s trickier. I could understand how their minds work—why they act the way they do. It’s practical, but also fascinating. Think about it—everyone’s got their quirks, their fears, their insecurities. I can learn why people do the things they do, and how to get through to ‘em when it matters most. And if I understand myself a little better, that’s a bonus.

Remus flushed deeply at James’ long-winded explanation. James was not a Fred Longbottom—he was energetic, chatty, and worst of all, he seemed to have a genuine interest in other people’s thoughts, feelings, and reasons for doing the things they did. It was as if the universe had conspired to put Remus in the room with the one person who would undoubtedly try to unravel the mystery of who he was—physically and mentally.

Remus squirmed uncomfortably on his bed. The idea of having someone like James digging into his psyche felt like a special form of torture. Was it too late to go back to housing and beg them to switch his room back to the fourth floor? He could crawl up there if he needed to, he thought. Bloody hell, he’d even sleep outside if it meant escaping this. At least there, he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone questioning his cane or limp or how they came to be. But no, it was too late now. The thought of calling that raspy-voiced woman at housing again and explaining that, actually, he’d made a mistake, and could he please be moved to his old room, made him wince. She’d likely combust on the spot. Besides, she would probably think of it as karma for the hassle he had put her through to secure him this room in the first place.

James, for all his rambling, seemed completely oblivious to Remus’ internal panic. He was too busy smiling brightly, “Guess I’ve got a knack for it. So why not study it properly?” James continued, his words tumbling out faster than Remus could process them. “Might as well use the skill to get better at it. But seriously, it’s more about understanding people. The way they think, the way they feel.”

Remus gave a stiff nod, forcing himself to keep his attention on the conversation. He couldn’t afford to let James know just how uncomfortable he was. He couldn’t very well back out now. But, he could try to escape.

As if on cue, Remus' stomach let out a low, rumbling growl. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until that moment, the constant tension in his body making it hard to focus on anything other than his discomfort. He cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject and escape James' eager probing.

"Look, mate, it's nice to meet you, but I think I'm going to head to the canteen and grab some food," Remus said, his voice a bit rough from just waking up.

"Great idea, I’ll join!" James replied, practically bouncing on his heels. "Bloody famished."

Remus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He had hoped for a moment of solitude, but apparently, that wasn’t in the cards. Instead, he grabbed his cane, carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, feeling the familiar ache of his leg. He hesitated for a moment, then reached into his bag and popped another pill into his mouth, swallowing it quickly and as subtly as possible, hoping James wouldn’t notice. He didn’t like drawing attention to the little things he had to do to get through each day, especially not with someone like James, who seemed as if he would notice everything.

"Alright," Remus said, forcing a smile. "Let’s go then." after slipping on his shoes, he limped towards the door with James trailing behind him, chatting away about something or other. The sound of James' enthusiastic voice was almost too much to handle, but Remus just nodded along, focusing on making it to the canteen without letting his discomfort show.

Apparently, James found it quite amusing how much food Remus was able to pile onto his plate. His eyebrows shot up as Remus returned to the food line for a second helping, and the look on his face was one of sheer disbelief. Remus couldn’t help but think, You might feel the same way if you hadn’t had a proper meal in ages, but he kept his expression carefully neutral and gave a simple shrug saying instead, “Oh, you know, high metabolism and all.” Which seemed to satisfy James.

The food was a relief, but the mouthfuls also provided a perfect excuse to stay quiet, allowing Remus to escape the pressure of conversation. Of course, this didn’t stop James. His chatter filled the space, each sentence tumbling out as though he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t long before Remus learned everything about James' life, or so it seemed. James was an only child too, like Remus. His parents, Effie and Fleamont, seemed to be people he looked up to, based on the way he spoke about them with pride. Remus nodded along, half listening, half focused on chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible.

"Oh, and my girlfriend, Lily—she’s the most beautiful person to ever grace this Earth. Seriously, mate, you’d be amazed." Remus blinked, a little caught off guard by the abruptness of the declaration. But James didn’t wait for a response before continuing, "And I play football for the university. Striker, you know? The best position on the pitch." He gave a grin that was all teeth, clearly more than happy to share his accomplishments.

Remus simply nodded, biting back the urge to ask for a moment of silence. It wasn’t that he necessarily disliked James—it was just that the relentless enthusiasm was a lot to take in. He focused instead on the rhythm of eating, hoping the physical act of chewing could drown out the sound of James' voice just long enough for him to collect his thoughts.

“Want to head over to the welcome back party? Supposed to be even better than last year from what I’ve heard,” James asked as they stepped out into the night air, the soft hum of the campus settling around them.

Remus hesitated for only a moment before answering, “Ah, nah, I told some friends that I would meet up with them tonight.” The lie slipped out smoothly, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

James’ face faltered for a second—his smile dimmed just enough for Remus to catch it. But just as quickly, the smile returned, slightly strained. “Alright mate, well, I guess I’ll see you back at the room later then.”

Remus nodded in response, grateful for James' quick recovery, but also eager to be free from the conversation. The tension in his chest eased only slightly as James turned and walked off in the direction of the party.

Once James was out of sight, Remus didn't waste any time. He turned on his heel and headed back toward the dorm, the quiet of the evening filling his ears. When he finally reached his room, he went through the motions of brushing his teeth and slipping into his pajamas, the familiar routine grounding him, if only a little.

Crawling into bed, Remus pulled the covers up to his chin and let the silence envelop him. It was a welcome reprieve from the noise of the day—the chatter, the questions, the forced interactions. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget about everything outside the room. He closed his eyes, letting sleep take him as the world continued without him.

Chapter Text

The first day of classes came quickly, which made the possibility of avoiding James a bit easier. Uncharacteristically, Remus had started to develop a soft spot for the ever-cheerful boy, but that only made it harder to find excuses to leave without feeling a faint pang of guilt. Over the past couple of days, he had resorted to asking James questions about football, a topic he knew absolutely nothing about. James, of course, had been more than happy to explain every last detail, his enthusiasm so contagious that it almost made Remus forget how much he wanted to avoid getting too close to him.

Remus had gone back and forth in his head about whether to rely on his cane for the first day. His leg had been feeling better, likely thanks to the constant stream of painkillers he had been taking and the rest he'd managed to give it after his arrival on Friday. Ultimately, he decided to skip the cane. It seemed like overkill, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Instead, he added an extra pill to his morning dosage. As he swallowed it, the familiar voice of his doctor echoed in his mind, reminding him not to overdo it. But it was just one extra pill, and he really needed them. Besides, what harm could it do? He needed to be functional for his first day back.

He left his dorm with plenty of time to head to the canteen with James, who continued to be baffled by the sheer volume of food Remus was able to pile onto his plate. After a somewhat awkward breakfast that involved more talk about football than Remus had ever cared to know, the two of them parted ways to head to their respective classes.

The lanky boy made his way toward his Sociology of Gender lecture, pleased at how well he was masking his limp. By the time he arrived, most of the students had already settled into their seats, unpacking notebooks and pens. Remus spotted an open seat near the aisle, beside a red-headed girl with green eyes and freckles sprinkled across her face. She smiled as he lowered his 193-centimeter frame into the red-cushioned chair. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment before reaching into his bag for his own notebook.

As he settled in, the girl leaned over and introduced herself.

"Hiya, I'm Lily," she said warmly.

"Remus," he replied, returning the greeting with a small, polite nod. The name sounded familiar, but Remus couldn't place why. He ransacked his memory for a moment, sifting through the avalanche of details James had poured out over the past few days. Then it dawned on him.

It was a common enough name, so it probably wasn’t her, but before he could stop himself, he found himself asking, "Lily, yeah? You know a James Potter?"

Her face split into an amused grin before she even answered. "Oh, yeah, he's my boyfriend. You know him?"

“Er, kinda. He’s my dormmate this year.”

This seemed to delight Lily, her grin widening even further. "Can’t believe I’m meeting the mysterious roommate in my first class," she said, her voice light with amusement.

Remus swallowed hard, suddenly self-conscious. "I dunno if 'mysterious' really describes me," he said quietly.

She shook her head slightly, her smile still warm. "Nah, don’t worry, James has only said good things about you. He reckons you eat for a family of three, you’re pretty quiet, and you’re up for learning more about footie."

Remus almost chuckled at the overly simplistic description, but just smiled instead. “I think James is more keen on talking about footie than I am interested, to be honest, but it’s nice hearin’ him explain it, I s’ppose.”

Lily’s laugh was soft and easy. "Yeah, football’s James’ greatest love, so that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest."

Despite his usual discomfort with small talk, Remus found it surprisingly easy to converse with Lily. Nothing they had said so far had been particularly profound or deep, but there was a natural ease to it—something that he couldn't remember feeling often. She wasn't pushing for more, yet she was friendly enough that he didn’t feel the need to retreat into his shell. It was an odd sense of connection he couldn't quite explain. They continued to make light chatter until the professor made her way to the front to begin the lecture. The rest of the class breezed by and Remus got the feeling that he was going to enjoy the class based on the outline Professor McGonagall provided.

The Psychology of Learning class passed quickly, with an overview of the course and the expectations for attendance and participation emphasized. Feeling the need for food and glancing at his watch to see that he had an hour and a half before his next class, Remus set off toward the canteen. After fixing himself a full plate, he found an empty booth to settle into. Before he had even raised the first forkful to his mouth, he heard a familiar voice.

“I thought James was exaggerating, but wow.” Lily stared down at Remus’ plate before promptly sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“Just wait until he gets to the second helping,” James replied, sliding into the spot next to Lily.

“Oi! Piss off, I’m a growing boy,” Remus replied, shoving a bite into his mouth.

“Growing?! How much more are you planning on growing? I think I might start having to walk around on stilts to talk to you if you get any taller.” James gave a lopsided grin and started on his own plate.

“Should probably anyway; can barely hear you from my height now.” Remus retorted easily.

“Cheeky bugger,” James teased.

They chatted lightly as they ate their food. Remus thought that maybe he could hold this line. He could have friends on this surface level, where he wasn’t so alone but also didn’t have to reveal too much of himself. Maybe.

“Well, I should probably be off; I’ve got a class in a bit,” Remus said, standing from the table.

“Want to meet up later for a pick-up game of footie?” James asked, looking up at him.

“Can’t. I should probably catch up with my mate after I’m done with class,” Remus replied, not wanting to bring up the fact that his leg wouldn’t allow him to partake anyway.

“Bring him along! We can always use more blokes on the pitch,” James offered.

“He doesn’t go here. I know him from Wales. Well… I mean, he lives here in London, but I know him from Wales when he visits his grandmother. I usually call him when I get back from breaks.” Regret spread through Remus’ body immediately—he was oversharing.

“Alright, I guess I’ll catch you back at the dorm.”

“See you next class, Remus!” Lily called after him.

True to his word, after class Remus walked to the phones in the common room of the dorm. He stared at it for what felt like an hour, though it was probably closer to five minutes in reality. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to him, but he knew this conversation would likely not be as lighthearted as usual. Come on, just do it, you coward, he reprimanded himself internally.

With a few deep breaths to calm his shaking hands, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

It rang three times before, “Hello?”

“Grant? It’s Remus,” he said, already feeling a bit better from the one word the boy on the other side had said.

“Blimey, was startin’ to think you’d forgotten about me,” Grant replied, and Remus could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“Couldn’t if I tried. So, how’ve ya been?” Remus asked, trying to keep the conversation light for as long as he could.

“Ah, you know. Back at work, same old, same old. How’s me favourite posh boy?”

“Yeah, go—od,” his voice cracked in the middle. I’m crying? When did that start? Remus hadn’t even noticed the tears until they were already there. He wiped his face quickly and tried to pull it together.

“Remus… what’s wrong?”

Shit. He’d already blown it. He knew he could never lie to Grant, but losing it this early on wasn’t exactly how he saw this going.

“Um, well… some things happened after you left this summer.” Remus remained vague. Maybe Grant would move past it and not ask follow-up questions.

“What things? Are you alright? Are you back in London? What’s goin’ on?”

Okay, so there were follow-up questions. Maybe if he skirted around the most obvious one, they could move on with the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m back in London. Started classes today—nothing heavy, just got the syllabus for each class and everything.” Remus’ voice was still wobbly, and tears were still lining his cheeks.

“Remus. What happened? You don’t sound like yourself.” Grant pressed, unwilling to let it go.

“My dad… he, um… he sort of hit me. Got a bit banged up, I s’ppose.” Remus found it increasingly difficult to hide the strain in his voice.

“Sort of hit you? A bit banged up? What’s that mean? How bad is it?” Grant’s voice was starting to sound panicked.

“It’s fine now. I’ve got some pain meds and a cane–” Remus knew the instant the last word left his mouth that he had messed up.

“A cane?! Bloody hell, I’m going to kill him.” Grant’s panic quickly turned to rage.

“Look, I’m fine and managing it. The doctor said it might be possible for me to recover enough to no longer need it at some point.” He was scrambling now, unsure of what to say or how to push past this part of the conversation.

Silence.

“I’m coming to see you,” Grant said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“You don’t need to–”

“Shut up. I said I’m coming to see you. I can’t really get out of work this week, but I’ll be there Friday night.” Grant’s tone was final, and Remus reluctantly accepted.

They talked for a bit longer, but it was difficult to discuss much else after Remus had practically blown up the conversation. Afterward, he hung up the phone and walked slowly back to his room. When he pushed open the door, James was sitting on his bed, listening to one of his vinyls. Remus must have looked worse than he thought because James immediately picked up the needle, his face laced with concern.

“You alright, mate?” It was the softest Remus had heard him talk.

“Yeah, all good. Just been a long day, and my leg’s bothering me.” This wasn’t untrue, but it certainly wasn’t the reason for his red-rimmed eyes.

“Anything I can do to help?” James asked earnestly, and Remus felt guilty for only giving him a half-truth.

“Nah, think I’m just gonna shower and head to bed. The music’s nice, though. Bowie?” Remus asked, already knowing the answer after having listened to Heroes nonstop on the radio a couple of summers ago.

“Yeah. Want me to put it back on?” James asked, a small smile returning to his face.

“Definitely. I’ll be fast in the shower.” Remus said as he grabbed a change of clothes and settled into the bathroom.

He opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and quickly swallowed a fresh pill before going through his nightly routine of showering, brushing his teeth, and slipping into his pajamas. When Remus walked out, Sons of the Silent Age was playing, and James was bobbing his head from side to side with his eyes closed. Exhausted from the day, Remus fell asleep soon after his head hit the pillow.

—-

The light peering through the curtains woke Remus from his sleep, but since he had a later start today, he rolled over and pulled the covers over his head to rest a bit longer. However, his mind was already awake, replaying his conversation with Grant. Huffing, Remus pulled the blankets off and made to stand. His leg wasn’t ready for the weight, and he immediately crumpled to the floor. The jolt that went through his leg as his knee slammed into the ground made him cry out.

“Shit, Remus!” James jumped out of bed and rushed to his side. “Are you alright?!”

There were white spots dancing in his vision, and he could hear the choked noises escaping from his mouth, but he felt removed from his body.

“Just lay down. I’ll get you some water and your meds.” With that, James dashed to the bathroom. “Here’s the water, but looks like the medicine bottle’s empty,” he grimaced.

Fuck, Remus thought, coming back to himself once the worst of the pain had passed. How did I not realize I was out? He’d been so out of sorts after his phone call that he hadn’t even bothered to pay attention.

“Shit,” was all Remus could manage to say aloud.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the uni clinic, and they’ll sort you out,” James promised.

Between the cane and James’ help, Remus found himself sitting in an exam room, waiting for the doctor. When she walked in, she introduced herself as Doctor Pomfrey. She was an older woman with short, curly gray hair and a sturdy stature.

“So, how can I help ya today?” Pomfrey asked, her voice warm and kind, like a doting grandmother, making Remus feel a little more at ease than he expected.

“Erm, well, I had an accident this summer that damaged my leg,” he began, swallowing thickly. “And, well, the doctor I saw then gave me some pain meds, but I got jumped last week, and the bloke nicked my meds and cash. I’m struggling without the pain management and was hopin’ to get a new prescription.” Remus cringed inside, knowing the lie didn’t sit well, but he wasn’t about to admit he’d run through the medication too quickly.

“I see,” she said sympathetically, her eyes softening. “Could I have a look at yer leg?”

Remus froze. Of course, she’d want to see it. She was a doctor. She wouldn’t just hand out prescriptions without having a proper look first.

“I’ll… I’ll have to take off my trousers,” Remus said, his voice unnaturally high.

“I’m a doctor, sweetheart,” Pomfrey reassured him, a little chuckle in her voice. “I’ve seen far more than just someone in their knickers.”

“Right, okay.” Remus unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them off, wincing at the rough scrape of the material over his angry red skin.

“Well, looks like things are healing nicely. No sign of infection or reopening of the deeper gouges. The surface wounds are forming healthy scar tissue. So that’s good.” She prodded gently, her tone comforting. “What did yer last doctor say?”

“Said there was some muscle and nerve damage, but that it should mostly resolve over time. Though it’s too early to say for sure. I’ve got a cane for the bad days. I just… I fell getting outta bed this mornin’ and hit my leg pretty hard.”

“Can I ask how it happened?”

“I’d rather not talk about it if that’s alright with ya.” Remus dropped his gaze to the floor, the weight of the memory too heavy to lift.

“Right, love. You can get yer jeans back on now.” She turned to write on her notepad. “I’ll write ya up a new prescription for yer leg, but I want ya to use yer cane today and not overdo it. Rest up a bit. I’d also like to see ya back in a couple weeks just to make sure yer recovery’s still goin’ smoothly. And I’m giving ya a cream for the tightness in yer skin as it heals. When you're feelin' better, we’ll start lookin’ at exercises to strengthen yer leg again.”

Remus flushed slightly under her kind gaze, grateful for her care but embarrassed by the attention.

“Thank you,” he muttered, still not quite meeting her eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, love. That’s what I’m here for.” Pomfrey smiled softly, handing him the prescription slip. “Just take that to the desk around the corner to collect yer meds.”

After stopping by the pharmacy counter and procuring the new bottle of medicine and cream, hearing the same words of caution the doctor back in Wales had given him, Remus made his way out toward the exit, spotting James waiting anxiously, bouncing his leg in a chair in the waiting room. As soon as their eyes met, James sprang up, quickly heading over to him.

“Everything go alright?” he asked, worry etched across his face.

“All good, just need to get to my astronomy lecture,” Remus replied, his tone a bit clipped. He wished he could just vanish right there, escape the pity that practically radiated from James.

“I thought you might wanna bunk it off? I don’t have class 'til later. I could walk ya back, or we could grab a bite at the canteen?”

“I’m not a dog, I don’t need walkin’ round from place to place,” Remus snapped, the frustration and embarrassment of the morning catching up with him.

James flinched at the sharpness of the words, hurt flashing across his face before he masked it with a forced smile—one that was far too strained to be convincing. “Right, well... maybe we can meet up for lunch? What time’re you done? I’ll be there with my mates, Peter and Si–”

“I’ve gotta go. I’m probably already gonna be late as it is. I’ll see ya later. Cheers for yer help.” The words were meant to sound appreciative, but they came out all wrong, dripping with a coldness that made them anything but.

—-

As expected, Remus walked into the lecture hall right before class started, so he ducked into the first available seat he could find, letting out a huff of air as he did. The room smelled faintly of old books and coffee, the murmur of students filling the air as they waited for class to start. Remus glanced around briefly, noting the few lingering groups of students still chatting in the back. The teacher, a woman in her mid-forties with long black hair and a sharp nose, introduced herself as Professor Sinistra before launching into the syllabus breakdown.

The class slid by with little of note until Sinistra instructed, “Now, find yourself a group of four. These people will serve as your partners for in-class work and larger projects throughout the term.”

Of bloody course. Group work. Remus thought, letting out an internal groan.

A boy with messy brown hair, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, leaned over to Remus, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, we've got three," he said, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "And it looks like you're down three. What do you say—want to join our trio? Though, I suppose I should check if you can read before inviting you in." His grin was playful as if he were just taking the piss.

Had Remus not had the morning he did, he might have had a little more tact than, “I’m a second-year student at one of the most prestigious universities in England. What the fuck do you think you daft twat?” His brows furrowing in the middle.

This earned bright laughter from the two other boys sitting with him. One had neat, dark curly hair that framed his angular jawline. His face was striking in a way that bordered on unconventional, with eyes that gleamed a silvery shade. The third boy had shorter sandy blonde hair, his shirt slightly untucked, giving him a laid-back appearance. His hazel eyes were warm with a hint of someone always a little lost in thought, yet completely at ease in the moment.

“Oi, I like this bloke. I’m Evan, mate,” the light-haired boy said as a way of greeting, holding out his hand. “This daft wanker is Barty, and this one here,” he said, cupping the boy’s sharp cheekbones, “is Reggie.”

Reggie, who had been quietly observing, smirked and gave a quick wave. “Reality is, they’re both idiots, but they’re reliable, I’ll give ‘em that.”

Barty gave a nod, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. “Looks like everyone else is grouped up anyway, so I’m not sure you have much of a choice at this point.”

Remus glanced around, noticing that the other students were quickly packing up, most already heading for the door. “Guess I’m in,” Remus replied, his voice more resigned than he’d intended. Honestly, the lack of options made it easier than stressing himself out about trying to make enough conversation with three other people to comply with the instructions.

“Great, we’re heading for lunch, fancy it?” Reggie asked, gathering his things to follow the last of the other students out the door.

“Too right,” Remus agreed, feeling how empty his stomach was after not getting breakfast that morning. His legs felt stiff from sitting through the lecture, and the thought of food made him realize just how hungry he was.

With that, the four of them set off for lunch, and Remus listened to their banter the whole way, chiming in from time to time. Evan teased Barty about something Remus couldn’t quite catch, while Reggie offered dry commentary on the state of the university’s laundry facility, which only made Remus chuckle after having braved the dungeon-like basement on Sunday. He felt some of the discomfort of the morning melt away as they walked, their laughter easing him into the group dynamic.

“So, why the cane?” Barty asked when they all sat down around an open table in the crowded dining hall. It was a small, bustling space with students scattered about, some eating, others studying. The hum of conversation mixed with the clatter of trays and silverware.

“Fucking hell, Barty, you can’t just ask people every question that pops into your thick skull,” Reggie reprimanded, his voice low but with an edge of fondness. He swiped a chip off Barty’s tray, ignoring the glare that followed.

Remus couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but despite the very question that would have made him (metaphorically) sprint from any other person, he felt at ease. He took a deep breath and decided to just roll with it. “Nah, it’s fine,” Remus schooled his expression, trying to look as serious as possible while saying, “Took a trip to Australia with the fam a couple of years back, got attacked by a bull shark while snorkeling—bit a chunk out of my thigh.”

Barty paled slightly, his mouth going a little slack in surprise. Evan raised an eyebrow, and Reggie leaned back in his chair, not giving anything away. The tension in the air thickened for a moment before Remus broke it by cracking a grin and letting out a small chuckle.

“Cheeky bastard!” Evan barked out, laughing. “You had me going!”

Reggie let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I had a feeling you were winding us up, but that was a solid performance. Fair play.”

As they continued eating and chatting, the conversation shifted easily, falling into their newfound banter. The awkwardness Remus had felt earlier was gone, replaced by the comfortable rhythm of easy conversation. He didn’t have to prove anything here. These idiots, as they’d already been labeled, didn’t need him to be anyone else but himself. And that felt surprisingly good.

“Well, if we’re all going to be stuck with each other this semester,” Reggie said, finishing his drink, “we might as well make it worth it. You in, Remus?”

Remus grinned, feeling the spark of camaraderie light up between them. “Guess I’ll stick around, seems like you lot could be a real laugh.”

They all stood up to part ways for their remaining classes, and Remus couldn’t help but feel like he had found something that he had been missing without Grant.

—-

Remus returned to the dorm room later that day, a bit exhausted. He could still hear the sharpness of his own words to James echoing in his ears. He closed the door behind him quietly, but it was enough to catch James’ attention, who was sitting on his bed with his head buried in a book.

"Oi, you're back," he said lightly, though there was something guarded in his tone. "How’s the leg?"

Remus hesitated, standing at the door for a second longer than necessary. His leg throbbed, and so did the knot in his stomach. “It’s alright. Got some meds and cream for it. Doctor says it’s healing fine.”

James’ gaze flickered back to the book in his hands where his fingers were tapping the edge of the pages restlessly. He was a bit too quiet, his usual easygoing nature subdued. “Good,” he said, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As the silence stretched on while Remus tried to gather his words, James frowned slightly, stood up from his bed, and stepped closer. “Listen, I’m... sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was, I dunno, hovering. I just... I care, mate.”

“I’m fine,” Remus muttered, his tone more dismissive than he intended. He grimaced at the way the words came out. “Just don’t want you to think I can’t handle myself.”

James’ eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing with a mix of confusion and concern. “Mate, that’s not what I think at all.”

Remus shifted on his feet. “About this morning... I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” James interrupted, his voice quieter than usual. “You’ve had a rough day, I get it.”

But Remus could hear the undertone of something else in James’ words, something that scraped at the edges of the awkwardness between them. “No, I do,” he said, shuffling his feet, “I was a bloody prat. You were just trying to help, and I... I lashed out. Didn’t mean it like that.”

James crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he studied Remus, though his expression softened just a fraction. “You don’t need to explain. I get it. You’re dealing with a lot, and it’s not easy. But you don’t have to push me away when you’re upset. I’m not going anywhere, in fact, you are kinda stuck with me.”

The simplicity of James' words hit Remus harder than he expected, and a sudden wave of guilt washed over him. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words tangled in his throat, and instead, he let out a breath.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I don’t appreciate your help. I just... I don’t like it when people make a big fuss over me.” He let the words hang in the air, carefully not saying too much, though his thoughts churned beneath the surface. He didn’t want to share everything, but James didn’t need to know all the details. “Guess I’m not quite used to getting looked after like that.”

James gave him a knowing look, the kind that said he understood more than Remus probably realized. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Remus fidgeted with his cane, the conversation pressing in on him. He wanted to say more, to explain more, but he wasn’t ready to let James in that much. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to feel like I’m putting too much on anyone.”

“You’re not,” James said firmly. “And you’re not weak for needing help. No one’s gonna think that.”

For a moment, Remus didn’t meet his gaze, feeling a flicker of embarrassment at the vulnerability that had surfaced. “Thanks, James. I didn’t mean to muck things up this early on.”

James gave a light laugh and shrugged. “No need for any more apologies.”

Remus nodded, finally feeling some of the weight lift off his shoulders. “Alright then. Fancy a bit of music?”

“Always,” James said relaxing back into his usual easygoing self.

For the first time, but definitely not the last, Remus thought that James had an eerily profound ability to connect with people. There was something about the way James listened—like he wasn’t just hearing the words but understanding the feelings underneath them. It wasn’t that he said anything particularly groundbreaking, but the matter-of-factness of his words felt like a lifeline as if he’d known exactly what Remus needed to hear without needing to be told.

Chapter Text

Wednesday morning came around quicker than Remus would have liked, but this time, he didn’t feel the same sense of dread that he had in the previous days. He went through his usual routine before doubling his pain medication, with the thought he should start looking for a new source before this prescription ran out. He liked Pomfrey and knew that he would have to go back to her for follow-ups and didn’t fancy continuing to find ways to lie to her more than he had to.

James, ever the early riser, was already standing by the door waiting for him when he stepped out of the bathroom. "Ready? I told Peter we'd meet for breakfast before classes."

"Yeah, just need to grab my cane first. Leg’s still a bit off," Remus replied, slowly making his way to where it was leaning against his nightstand. "Actually, I’m probably going to be a bit slow. You can go on ahead, I’ll catch up."

"Don’t be daft, Pete’s always late. We’ve got loads of time," James said. "Besides, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t survive until lunch without scarfing down half the canteen."

Remus had to hold back a snarky retort about how he was actually quite used to skipping meals, but he thought better of it—especially after their recent patch-up. Instead, he pasted on what could be generously called a smile, and the two of them left the room. The truth was, Remus wasn’t sure he wanted to meet James’ friends. Things with the two of them were fine, but he wasn’t exactly keen on joining in with his mates.

As James had predicted, Peter didn’t show up until Remus was already halfway through his breakfast. Though, to be fair, that might have been partially due to the fact that he was eating quickly, eager to escape as much of the hangout as he could. Peter finally wandered in, his small, round figure filling the seat. He was a bit on the plump side, with mousy brown hair that fell in an untidy mess around his face and a pointed nose that gave him a somewhat mouse-like appearance.

“Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late,” Peter set down his plate, “I was up late playing chess with a lad from my history class last night and I overslept.”

James huffed a laugh. “You and your chess.” He nudged Remus. “Peter’s practically a grandmaster.”

Peter gave a modest shrug, though his chest puffed out slightly in pride. “Oh, I wouldn’t say grandmaster—but I’m pretty decent. Been playing since I was a kid. James here, though…” He shot James a teasing look. “He still can’t beat me.”

James leaned over and punched Peter’s arm good-naturedly. “Oi, I’m getting there! Do you have to rub it in every time?”

Peter was clearly delighted by the attention. “Well, someone had to teach you.”

They continued on like that, going back and forth with Peter bringing up story after story about how long he had been mates with James at every opportunity.

Remus forced a polite smile, but it was starting to wear thin. He had no interest in the details of Peter’s chess prowess, nor did he care about their “growing up together” anecdotes. If anything, the way Peter kept dragging James back into childhood stories—especially in front of him—was making Remus feel more like an outsider than ever. The undercurrent of possessiveness was almost palpable, though he couldn’t quite figure out why Peter felt the need to prove anything in the first place.

“Sounds like you go way back,” Remus said, keeping his tone neutral but not hiding the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

Peter didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps didn’t care—how uninterested Remus was. “We were practically inseparable growing up. You know, when we were kids, we built this insane treehouse in his backyard. Took us weeks with both our dads' help, and I had to keep James from falling off the ladder half the time.”

James nodded. “Best treehouse ever. You were the one who kept everything sturdy, Pete. I just wanted to make sure we had the highest perch.”

Peter’s small eyes lingered on James, and then he glanced at Remus, his smile barely masking something else—a flicker of something possessive, maybe. Or maybe Remus was just projecting. Either way, it wasn’t lost on him.

James, oblivious to the silent undercurrent, clapped his hands together. “Right! What do you think, lads? Fancy a trip to the pub later? I know we’ve all got stuff on, but I thought it’d be a good chance to unwind, and grab a pint or two.”

Peter brightened at the mention of the pub. “Yeah, sounds good. I could use a pint after last night’s game.”

James nodded eagerly. “Great, I’ll let Lily and Pads know.” at this statement Peter’s expression dimmed a bit.

Remus was already looking at the clock, mentally running through his schedule. He liked the idea of the pub but was less inclined to accept the offer knowing that he might have to listen to Peter subtly mark his territory again. Plus he was still looking for a job around campus to earn some money.

“I’ll pass on the drinks, actually,” Remus said, standing up and brushing crumbs from his lap. “Anyway, got a lecture to attend.” He threw James a quick smile. “Rain check on the pub, yeah?”

James seemed to perk up at the mention of a lecture knowing that Lily was in that class. “Ah, right. Always keeping busy. See ya after classes.”

—

The lecture hall was filled with low conversation as students filed in, settling into their seats. Remus found an empty seat, taking a moment to unpack his things.

Lily slid into the seat next to him just as Professor McGonagall entered the room, glasses perched on the tip of her nose and hair neatly styled into a tight bun. Her black skirt suit was pristine, as was her posture, and there was an air of authority about her that commanded instant attention. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries, simply walking to the chalkboard and beginning to write.

“Good morning,” she said briskly, her voice smooth but firm. “Let’s get started. Today, we’ll discuss the historical evolution of gender roles and their implications in the late twentieth century. More specifically, how gender and power have intertwined over the years, and why that continues to affect the world you navigate today.”

She paused for a moment, tapping the chalk against the board. “But before we begin with the specifics, I want you all to think for a second: How do you see gender? What do you think it means in today’s world?”

Lily leaned over, her tone light but filled with the same curiosity that Remus was feeling. “Wonder how long it’ll take before she starts making us question everything we thought we knew about gender.”

Remus half-smiled, adjusting in his seat. “Not long, I’m guessing.”

Professor McGonagall’s sharp gaze flicked over the class, scanning each student’s face as though weighing them. “The term ‘gender’ has only recently begun to shift from being a biological determinant to something far more complex. For much of history, societies have insisted that there were two genders—man and woman—and that those categories were fixed, immovable.”

She turned away from the board and began to pace slightly, her voice gaining strength. “But today—today, we are seeing the rise of feminist movements, activism, and, most importantly, the push for a deeper understanding of how gender is not just about anatomy, but identity. It’s complex. And it affects everything from employment to relationships, politics, even the way we define power.”

McGonagall continued, her voice steady and commanding. “In the 1970s, the conversation around gender is rapidly changing. We’re at a crossroads in history, where the feminist movement is growing stronger, calling for equal rights in the workplace, in the home, and in politics. At the same time, conversations around sexuality and gender identity are expanding as well. The ‘new woman’ of the 1970s is more empowered, more independent, and asking for a seat at the table. We’ve seen women in the workplace in higher numbers than ever before, but that does not mean we’re anywhere near equal footing with men.”

She paused to let the words sink in, letting the room settle into a contemplative silence.

“I want to challenge you all this semester,” McGonagall continued, her tone now softer but no less piercing. “I want you to think critically about the roles you are assigned simply because of your sex. How much of what you do is because of social expectations and how much of it is you?”

Lily tapped her pen on her notebook, a thoughtful look on her face. “That’s actually a pretty good question,” she whispered to Remus. “How much of what we do is just because we’re told to do it?”

Remus nodded, the idea percolating in his mind. He’d always been someone who thought about societal expectations—how much they shaped people’s lives without anyone really noticing. But McGonagall’s framing made it feel more urgent, more real.

“The way you behave, the way you’re expected to behave—especially in terms of work, relationships, and public life—is often tied to the gender roles that were ingrained in you from childhood,” McGonagall said, her voice cutting through the low hum of the room. “The question is not whether men and women are inherently different, but why we continue to construct these boundaries.”

Remus watched as McGonagall wrote “The Binary System of Gender” on the board, the words stark against the dark surface. “Societies have traditionally placed people into two categories: male and female. You could say these categories were created not only to separate the sexes but also to keep power in the hands of a particular group. Men were seen as the breadwinners, the decision-makers, the leaders. Women were relegated to the private sphere—homes, families, and secondary roles in society. We saw this in the legal system, in the media, in education. And those roles were enforced over time.”

Professor McGonagall paced again, her eyes focused on the students, the weight of her words pressing down on them. “However, the past fifty years have begun to undo some of that, with women entering higher education, joining the workforce, and asserting their voices in public discourse. But do not mistake this for equality. Not yet.”

Lily flipped through her notebook as she processed the point before leaning over to Remus. “It’s interesting–the idea that because we are told that our roles are just ‘what we are’—it’s almost hard to question. And yet, McGonagall’s just laid it all out. It’s like she’s not giving us the option to ignore it.”

Remus thought for a moment, staring at the board where McGonagall was now outlining the historical roots of gender as a system of power. “I think that’s the point. She wants us to see how much of it is taught—how much of what we take for granted is social conditioning. We don’t really think about it, but all these expectations are built into everything. She’s teaching us how to look past what we’ve been told. To see gender not as something we're given, but something we perform.”

The professor turned back around, her eyes sweeping across the class once more. “We’ll spend the semester unpacking these ideas, but I want to start with this thought: What does it mean for you to be gendered? How much of that identity was shaped by the world around you, and how much of it is truly yours to control?”

Remus glanced at Lily, who was scribbling down notes. He hadn’t expected the class to hit him this hard. He was used to more abstract psychological concepts, but McGonagall’s directness, her challenge to think beyond the confines of what society told them, made him feel like he was walking into uncharted territory.

As class wrapped up, McGonagall gathered her things with brisk efficiency, but before she left, she turned to the class one last time. “Your reading for next week is on the feminist movement’s impact in the 1960s and 70s. I expect you to come prepared with questions. This class is not about passive learning—it is about engagement.”

Lily stood up and stretched, offering Remus a wide grin. “Think I’m going to enjoy this class.”

Remus was still digesting everything McGonagall had said. “Feels... important, you know?”

“Definitely,” Lily agreed. “And it’s about bloody time people started asking these questions.”

As they left the lecture hall, the buzz of conversation around them felt different. The questions McGonagall had posed were still hanging in the air, leaving them to wonder—how much of who they were was really their choice, and how much was just a product of everything the world had taught them?

The rest of the day passed easily, and soon Remus was back in his room, cozy in his favorite dark green jumper adorned with scattered black-and-white stitched patterns. He held a cuppa in one hand and the reading for McGonagall’s class in the other, his limbs stretched so long that they nearly dangled off the side of the bed when a loud, rhythmic knock came from the door.

"That'll be Pads," James said, jumping up to answer. "He said he’d meet me here to head to the pub, and I’d know that knock anywhere."

A figure a bit taller than James stepped into the room. His dark hair fell just above his shoulders, curling slightly at the base of his neck. His jeans were form-fitting, and his Black Sabbath t-shirt looked like it was made just for him.

James gestured between them, as though there was anyone else to introduce. "By the way, Remus, this is Sirius. Sirius, this is Remus."

His stormcloud eyes met Remus’s, and he stopped to lean casually against James’ bedpost, never breaking eye contact. "Oi, Prongs," Sirius began, his tone light but playful, "I’ve been thinking. I reckon it’s unfair that you're the odd man out in our living situation." His gaze didn’t shift. He smirked, "I should fix that and let you room with Wormy."

Remus blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up with this strange dynamic. Prongs? Wormy? Pads? What the hell...

James looked amused. "Oh, a sudden change of heart? What’s got you feeling so generous? A few nights of Wormtail’s snoring already making you rethink your life choices?"

Sirius placed a hand on his chest, feigning mock offense. His eyes glimmered, deepening the playful tone in his voice. "You wound me, Prongs. I’m always generous. And if you must know..." He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to make Remus feel like he was being let in on a secret. "I cheated, and the guilt is eating me alive."

“Think I’m already a bit lost in this conversation.” The word slipped from Remus before he could stop it.

James shrugged nonchalantly. "There were only double rooms left this year, so Peter, Sirius, and I played rock-paper-scissors to see who’d room together. I lost, so I had to throw my name in the roommate lotto."

“How does one cheat at rock-paper-scissors?” Remus asked, still a little thrown off.

Sirius smirked, all too eager to explain. "It was best two out of three, and Prongs here always goes for rock first," he said with a knowing glance at James. "So I already had one win in the bag."

"Sounds like you got lucky in the second game,” James retorted.

Sirius didn’t seem bothered by James's brush-off. Instead, his eyes slowly traveled over Remus, a deliberate sweep that made Remus suddenly aware of every part of himself. "I’m not so sure about that now," Sirius murmured, his voice low, sending a shiver down Remus's spine.

It was subtle, but Remus felt a change in the air. He shifted on his bed, causing his jumper to slide up his torso a few centimeters, exposing the faintest sliver of skin. He didn’t miss the way Sirius’ eyes zeroed in on the spot. A rush of heat swept over him, and Remus quickly reached down to adjust the hem, feeling Sirius’ gaze snap back up to his face.

James continued, oblivious, "Sounds like you won fair and square, Pads. Plus, there’s absolutely no way I’m packing up all my stuff and moving again. I absolve you of any cheating you think you’re guilty of. Honestly, I’m quite fond of my new roommate. Think I may have come out on top after all." He stuck his tongue out to punctuate his point.

But Sirius’s gaze remained on Remus. It lingered with a quiet intensity as if assessing him, measuring something unseen. It didn’t last long—Sirius recovered quickly, his smile returning to its easy charm—but Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was at play. He wasn’t sure if James even noticed the subtle tension between them.

Remus, on the other hand, felt electricity thrumming through his veins. Sirius had a way of making him feel seen—like he was the only one in the room, like everything else had faded into the background. It was disorienting, and it left him with an unfamiliar flutter in his chest, a warmth that made him feel a bit on edge.

Sirius let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, the disappointment vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Well, can’t blame me for trying," he shrugged.

“Remus, are you sure I can’t convince you to come for drinks?” James asked for approximately the thirteenth time since breakfast.

“I’m fine,” Remus said, his voice almost too quick. “I’ve got reading to do.” He raised the textbook a little higher, hoping the gesture would be enough to signal his need for space.

James wasn’t deterred, “C’mon, you’re not fooling anyone. Lily’s going, and if she can drag herself out, you can too.”

“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it? Plus, you can wash away any guilt for bunking off homework for the night with a pint,” Sirius chimed in.

Remus shook his head, trying to shake off the growing sense of unease. “No, really, I’m alright. I’ll stay here.”

James was already moving toward the door, clearly not expecting to win this one. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t try. You’re missing out.”

Sirius hesitated, his eyes lingering on Remus for a long beat. “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be at Three Broomsticks down the road.”

Remus didn’t look up, his fingers tightening around the edge of his book. “Thanks,” he muttered, the word feeling strange in his mouth.

Sirius pushed off from the bedpost and made to follow James out the door. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “But don’t go thinking I’ll let you off the hook next time.”

Remus immediately regretted looking up. Sirius shot him a wink, his expression so confident and teasing that it made Remus want to pull him into the bed rather than let him walk out the door. He quickly masked his reaction, forcing his face into an expression of indifference. But it was clear Sirius had noticed. The self-satisfied smirk that played on his lips told Remus everything. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon, Remus,” he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

Remus let out a breath as soon as the door clicked shut, his mind spinning. Why did it feel like that conversation was far from over?

Chapter Text

The pub was lively for a Wednesday night, the hum of voices blending with the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Sirius couldn’t seem to focus on anything for long. He kept glancing at the door, hoping Remus would show up. It wasn’t like he expected the guy to waltz in or anything—Remus had made it clear he wasn’t interested in joining them for the night out. Still, Sirius found himself distracted, unable to help the flickers of hope that kept sparking whenever the door creaked open.

Sirius, James, Peter, and Lily were all gathered around the table, drinks in hand, catching up on their week. But Sirius was in his own world, still staring at the entrance. He didn’t even notice when James nudged him.

“Pads,” James said with a grin, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been looking at the door like you’re expecting a bloody celebrity to walk in. What’s up?”

Sirius snapped out of his daze, quickly turning his attention to the group. “What? Oh, nothing,” he said, trying to play it cool. “Just... waiting for someone.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on to the fact there was more to that statement. “Waiting for who? You’ve got us here, right?”

“Yeah, I’m good with you lot,” Sirius said, though it came out a little flat. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking back to the door, though he tried to be a bit more subtle with his eyeline. “Just... thought I saw someone I knew.”

“Too bad Remus couldn’t join,” Lily spoke up. “I’d like to hang out with him outside of class. Get to know him a bit more.”

At the mention of Remus’ name, Sirius turned to look at Lily. “You have a class together?” he asked, trying to hide the desperation he felt to receive any piece of information.

“Yeah,” she paused to take a sip of her drink. “We sit next to each other in Psychology of Gender. He doesn’t talk much, but I saw the notes he took during class—made a lot of connections between the lecture and his life. Think he’s quite perceptive.”

Sirius nodded, the wheels in his mind turning. "What about you, James? You live with the bloke. You must know something about him."

James looked hesitant for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, he’s not exactly an open book. Doesn’t spill his guts at every turn.”

Sirius pushed, feeling like James wasn’t letting on. “What does he... I don’t know... do outside of school?”

Peter sloshed his glass around and joined in. “Are we still on about this? Why are we talking about this guy?”

Frustration began to bubble up in Sirius’ chest at Peter’s attempt to change the topic. “Sorry for trying to get to know James’ new mate. Might be good to add some fresh blood to the mix. Known you lot forever.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Well, he’s obviously not that interested. Barely said a word at breakfast and practically shot down the invitation to join tonight before James finished asking.”

Seeing the scowl forming on Sirius’ face, James cut in. “I’m not sure about that, Pete. Think he just takes some time to warm up to new people. Plus, he gets pretty tired after walking around campus all day—his leg’s been causing him some pain.”

“What do you mean? What about his leg?” Sirius couldn’t help the question escaping his throat.

“You didn’t notice the cane by his bed?” James ran a hand through his hair, doing nothing to tame the mess. “Don’t really know much about it, if I’m being honest. Just noticed that he uses it when he seems to be in a lot of pain. He doesn’t really talk about it. Figured he’d tell me if he wanted me to know.”

Sirius frowned, his thoughts spinning faster than he could keep up with. He had barely spent ten minutes with Remus, but he hated the idea of him being in any kind of pain. There was something about him that pulled at Sirius in a way he couldn’t explain.

Taking the moment of silence as an opportunity to change the subject, Peter piped up. “So, James, when does footie practice start? Heard the team’s supposed to be pretty good this year.”

James, of course, took the bait. “Better than good, Wormy. We will be the best! Practice starts on Monday, and I already have some new plays that I want to try out with the lads.”

“Oh, please, don’t get him started,” Lily sighed, but her voice was nothing but fond. “I’ve been hearing about this since the end of last season. He’s even acted it out with kitchenware.”

They continued on with the conversation, but Sirius couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. He could only concentrate for a few minutes at a time, chiming in every now and then to keep up appearances, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the boy still reading in bed and the way his golden-brown eyes had looked up at him. There was something there, Sirius just knew it.

After they finished their third round of drinks, they all decided to head back to the dorms since they still had classes the next day. But somewhere between his second and third pint, Sirius had made up his mind—he was going to find a way to get to know Remus more.

—-

Sirius stood in front of the mirror, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. The faint light from the morning sun filtered through the curtains of the dorm, casting long shadows on the floor. It was much earlier than usual, but that didn’t matter. Not today. He was determined.

He adjusted his collar, ran a hand over his shirt, and checked his appearance once more. Sirius Black never needed much preparation to look effortlessly good, but today—today he needed to appear just a bit more... deliberate. He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his chair, pulling it on with a practiced motion. A quick glance at the clock told him he still had plenty of time. No need to rush, he thought. He wanted this to seem natural.

Sirius took a deep breath, wiped his hands on his trousers, and made his way out of his room, he was sure James would be up by now. He made his way to room 104, the door creaking as he knocked lightly before entering.

James was sitting up in bed, his hair an unkempt mess and his eyes still heavy with sleep. But when he saw Sirius standing there, fully dressed, the surprise on his face was instant.

“Blimey, Pads, you up already?” James blinked, rubbing his eyes as if he wasn’t entirely sure if he was awake yet. “You never get up this early.”

“You know, you really should lock this door, don’t want any tosser just walking in.” Sirius grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. ”I’m surprised you aren’t up yet. Thought you’d have already gone for a run and showered by now. Anyway, I was wondering if you two wanted to join me for breakfast at the canteen before classes?”

James raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Thought I’d have a bit of a lie in after last night, but sure! Why not? Sounds like a good way to start the day. Let me just—” He started reaching for his glasses on the bedside table.

“How about you, Remus?” Sirius added smoothly, smiling at him. He wanted to make sure Remus didn’t feel like it was just a casual invite for James.

Remus hesitated for a second, eyes flicking between the two of them. His book remained open in his lap, but Sirius could see the subtle way he shifted, clearly uneasy with the attention.

“I–” He paused and Sirius could practically see him working through a list of excuses in his mind. “Yeah…ok,” Remus finally said, his voice sounding a bit resigned. He folded his book, sliding it onto the bedside table with a quiet thud.

Sirius felt a little thrill. He’d gotten Remus to agree. It was small, but a win nonetheless.

The three of them made their way to the canteen, the stillness of the morning only interrupted by their footsteps. The sound of chatter grew louder as they entered the dining hall, the warm smells of breakfast filling the air. After making their way through the food line, Sirius led the way to an empty table.

He noticed that Remus had four different spreads smeared across his toast: marmalade, butter, jam, and—was that lemon curd?

Sirius couldn’t help himself. He smirked. “Four different spreads, huh?”

Remus looked up at him, a blush creeping up his neck. “I... I just like the variety,” he said in a soft voice.

Sirius’ lips twitched into a smile, feeling potentially too gitty for learning such a small fact. “Looks great, think I might have to give it a try one of these days.”

James, meanwhile, was happily tucking into his eggs, blissfully unaware of the quiet exchange between the other two. But Sirius didn’t mind; he was focused on getting Remus to open up, even just a little.

“So, Remus,” Sirius began, trying to keep his tone casual, “how’s your week been so far? Everything alright in your classes?”

Remus looked up at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small shrug, he replied, “Yeah, it’s fine. Schedule’s pretty decent.” He seemed to say it almost as if it were a routine answer, the words not carrying much weight.

Sirius nodded, tapping his fingers against his cup as he thought of another question. He wasn’t going to give up that easily. “What’d you get up to this summer? I live with James outside of school, so I already know everything there is to know about him.”

Remus hesitated, his eyes flitting to the table, his fingers curling around his mug as he sunk down a bit in his seat. “Nothing special just spent it in Wales like normal.”

Sirius watched him carefully, trying to read the subtle hints of discomfort in his body language. Remus was polite but closed off. Sirius didn’t want to push too hard; he didn’t want to make him feel cornered. Still, he couldn’t help the curiosity burning in his chest.

"Wales, yeah?," Sirius said after a beat trying to find a way to keep the conversation going, "You don’t sound very Welsh to me."

Remus gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not really from there, just moved there when I was a kid,” he said softly, his attention still on his toast, cutting it carefully as if it required far more focus than it actually did.

Sirius couldn't help but wonder what it was about Remus that made him so hard to crack open. It was almost like he wanted to be known, but there was a barrier he kept up, one Sirius couldn't quite get past.

The conversation lulled as they ate, James happily chatting about his idea for a date with Lily while Remus kept to himself, answering with polite monosyllables when necessary. Sirius continued to throw in a few more questions, all small, harmless things—but Remus’ answers were always so vague, so distant.

It was like talking to a ghost, someone present but not truly there.

Sirius kept his smile, but inside, he couldn’t help but feel a little pang of frustration. There was something there—he was sure of it. And one way or another, he was going to figure out what it was.

Remus stood up, pulling Sirius from his thoughts. “I have to go see about the position open at the library.” before Sirius could ask any follow-up questions about the job, Remus was heading for the exit.

James leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched Sirius fidget with his mug. “So, Pads,” he began, stretching the word out like a cat toying with a mouse. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

Sirius' head snapped up, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly took a gulp from his mug. Okay, so maybe James hadn’t been as oblivious as Sirius had thought. "What? I’m not—what are you on about?"

James raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. “Oh, c’mon. You’re practically chomping at the bit every time his name comes up. And since when do you get up early with a casual invite to breakfast? You’re hooked.”

Sirius let out an exasperated grunt, slamming his mug down a little harder than necessary. “I’m not hooked!” he protested, but his tone betrayed him. “It’s just—there’s something about him, alright? I can’t figure him out, and it’s driving me mental.”

James smirked. “Aha, so you are interested. Well, go on then. What’s the deal with Remus?”

Sirius leaned in a little, voice low as if he didn’t want anyone else to overhear. “How does he look so bloody good when he practically dresses like a grandpa?” he muttered, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I mean, seriously. He wears cardigans and shoes that look like they belong in a retirement home, but... there’s just something about him and I can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, who looks that attractive while looking like they just crawled out of a bloody knitting club? It’s not fair.”

James barked a laugh, clearly amused by how worked up Sirius had gotten. “So you’ve got a thing for the ‘grandpa chic’ look, huh?”

Sirius shot him a sharp look. “It’s not about the cardigans, you wanker. I know there’s more to him than meets the eye. It’s like there’s this whole other side to him that he’s holding back, and it drives me insane that I can’t get him to talk about anything.”

James paused, his teasing grin softening slightly as he watched Sirius. “You really care about this, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sirius shot him a sidelong glance. “There’s something... magnetic about him. I can’t stop wondering.”

“I’d say ‘good luck,’ mate, but I don’t know if you’ll ever figure him out. Remus keeps his cards close to his chest.” James leaned forward again, eyes glinting. “Maybe that’s part of the charm.”

Sirius fixed him a playful glare, but there was a definite spark in his eyes. “You’re a right git, you know that?”

“Play nice, remember, I live with him, and I’ve been told I’m quite good at swaying opinions. I could be your only asset seeing as your charm isn’t getting you very far.” James said with a wink.

“Christ, you are such a cheeky arse,” Sirius replied, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

They finished their breakfast before heading off to their classes for the day, though Sirius was predictably distracted, his mind focused on trying to come up with a plan to see Remus more often. But by the end of his classes, he still hadn’t come up with anything. Maybe dropping by with an invitation to dinner would work? It seemed like giving Remus less time to think up an excuse was his best course of action. So, with that in mind, he finished some reading for his constitutional law class, which would have been boring on any given day but felt like a slow death today when his mind kept drifting, and he had to reread the same section eight times. When it was finally an acceptable time to eat, he walked to the familiar dorm room and gave his signature knock.

The door swung open to reveal James, who immediately looked him up and down with a bemused grin.

“Well, well, well,” James said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You’re here again? Really trying to make this a thing, are you?”

Sirius straightened up, his attempt to appear nonchalant failing spectacularly. He cleared his throat, offering a shrug. “What? No, just—just passing by. Thought I’d check-in. You know, see how things are going. Maybe see if you were up for dinner.”

James raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Sure, passing by,” he drawled, the teasing in his voice evident. “With your entire ‘I’m here to see Remus, definitely not making any moves’ energy. You’re as subtle as a brick wall, mate.”

Sirius shot him a glare, “Shut up, he’ll hear you!”

“Actually,” James continued, clearly enjoying the situation, “no need to worry. Remus got the job at the library. They asked if he could start right away, so he’s on his first shift today. Want to come in?” He turned his body to let Sirius through the door before continuing, “I’m taking Lily out for dinner so I’ll have to pass on your invitation that was clearly not meant for me anyway.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but his attention was drawn to the small desk across the room, where Remus’ schedule was neatly laid out. Without missing a beat, Sirius moved a step closer, pretending to inspect the room more thoroughly. He knew exactly what he was doing—he just needed a quick look at the schedule. James wasn’t paying attention; he was too busy getting ready for his date.

With the subtlety of a pro, Sirius pulled out his notebook and began jotting down the hours he saw listed on the paper. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to plan some times to cross paths with Remus at least.

James stepped out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he asked, ”What do you think of my outfit? I mean, I know it’s no knitted cardigan and trainers, but think Lily will like it?”

Sirius, without missing a beat, slipped the notebook back into his bag and gave James a bland look. “Yeah, sure, Prongs. You look proper nice.”

James laughed to himself and, still clearly amused, shook his head before going back to the sink to spit out the toothpaste in his mouth.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Catch you later,” Sirius called over his shoulder, his voice casual, though his mind was already a step ahead, plotting the next move.

The door clicked shut behind him, and James was left to finish getting ready, none the wiser to the exact kind of planning that had just taken place under his nose.

Chapter Text

The quiet hum of the university library wrapped around Remus like a familiar blanket. The rustle of pages and the occasional shuffle of feet were the only sounds breaking the silence. He sat behind the front desk, methodically checking in a stack of returned books before beginning to reshelve them. But his mind was elsewhere, caught in a storm of thoughts that had been brewing all day.

Remus hadn’t expected to find a job that suited him so well. The library’s solitude, the low murmur of voices, the sheer normality of it all—it brought a sense of order, a small reprieve. But tonight wouldn’t be just another quiet evening. He had promised to meet Grant, and the thought of it sent a knot tightening in his chest. He knew the conversation was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Grant had been a lifeline since they met the summer after Remus turned fourteen. Though most of their friendship existed over the phone, Grant’s presence was unwavering. Understanding, patient, and effortlessly comforting. But Remus couldn’t keep burying what had happened over the summer. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

The words his father had thrown at him still echoed in his mind—cutting, familiar, shaping the way Remus had learned to shrink and hide. The beating had hurt, but the words had been worse. Unnatural. Pathetic. Disgusting. They had been hammered into him for years, each syllable carving deeper wounds than the hits ever could.

He tried to focus on schoolwork before heading to the dorm, but the words on the page blurred, his mind too full of what-ifs. Eventually, he gave up and made his way back, the cool evening air doing little to settle his nerves. When he reached the entrance, his breath caught. Grant was waiting, hands in his pockets, expression relaxed but expectant. A comfort, even from a distance.

"Hiya," Grant greeted, but his voice shifted the moment he took in Remus’ hesitant stance, the cane, the way he wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Before Grant could say more, Remus stepped forward and collapsed into his arms. The breath left him in a shudder, his face pressing into Grant’s chest. Instinctively, Grant held him, no questions asked. Remus clung to him, the solidness of his presence anchoring him in place.

"Let’s go inside," Remus murmured hoarsely, pulling back just enough to meet Grant’s eyes. Grant nodded and followed him in.

James wasn’t in the dorm, a small mercy. Remus shut the door and turned to face Grant, who simply waited, patient as ever.

"I… I’m sorry," Remus whispered. "I don’t know how to explain."

Grant didn’t push. He only reached out, pulling Remus to sit beside him on the bed, rubbing slow circles on his back. "You don’t have to say it all at once. Whenever you’re ready."

Remus swallowed hard. The walls inside him were crumbling. He had to say it.

"When you left after your visit… my dad saw us. He saw me kiss you goodbye. And when I got home… he was waiting. He—" Remus’ breath hitched. "He beat me, Grant. With his belt. At first, it was like when I was a kid. But then… he turned it around and used the buckle. I was wearing short trousers. It cut open my skin. He didn’t stop, not even when I collapsed. There was blood everywhere, and he just kept going. And when he was done, he spat on me. Told me to clean it up. Then he told me to get out."

The words hung between them, raw and suffocating. Grant’s face paled, his hands clenched into fists, but he said nothing—he just listened, letting Remus finally speak the truth he had been carrying alone.

Remus collapsed back onto the bed, curling into himself as the tears came, unstoppable. He hadn’t let himself cry in weeks, but now, everything broke at once. Grant moved swiftly, lying beside him, arms wrapping around him, holding him through it.

“It’s okay. Let it out, Remus. I’m here. I’m right here with you.” Grant’s hand gently stroked Remus’s hair, his voice soft and soothing. “You are so good, Remus. So wonderful. I need you to believe me when I say—nothing that bastard said to you is true. I know who you are, and you’ve never been any of the things he accused you of.”

“I didn’t have anywhere to go,” Remus said, his voice breaking. “I just dragged myself out. I didn’t have a plan, and I couldn’t even manage to get myself to a hospital that night. I ended up in the park—just sat there till morning. The first night, I slept on a bench. Or—tried to. Every time I started drifting off, I’d wake up, heart hammering, because every sound made me think—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. The next day, I made it to the clinic, and they patched me up and sent me on my way. Had to go back later—that’s when I got the cane.” The tears were still streaming, but the floodgates had opened, and Remus couldn’t stop. “I managed the best I could with the money I was able to grab before I left. At night, I’d use the sink in the park’s restroom to wash up. Couldn’t do much, but it made me feel a bit more human. Then, a week before coming back here, I got jumped.” He let out a scoff, snot dripping from his nose. “Didn’t even see the bloke coming. I tried to fight back, but I was exhausted. The arse took all the money I had left. Had to beg on the street to get enough for the train.”

Grant made a small, choked sound, clearly trying to hold it together for Remus’s sake.

“And I wanted to call you, I did. I just… I was so pathetic and I… I couldn’t—”

The sobs that tore from Remus’s chest were raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of cries that felt like they came from a place too deep to name. He clung to Grant, unable to stop the pain from pouring out of him. The sound of his own anguish felt like it would break him into pieces, but Grant held him tighter, letting him cry, letting him grieve.

Eventually, the exhaustion won. The weight of everything, the relief of no longer carrying it alone—it pulled him under. As he drifted into sleep, the last thing he heard was Grant’s quiet, steady voice.

"I’m here. I’ve gotcha. You’re safe."

—

Morning light filtered through the curtains. Remus stirred, feeling the warmth of Grant beside him. A gentle scratching at his scalp, a soothing touch. It almost lulled back to sleep, but then awareness hit him. They weren’t alone.

James.

Remus tensed, the sudden awareness of James’ presence taking the comfort from the room. How would he react? Would he demand to switch rooms? Would he tell everyone about how he had shared his bed with another boy? He hesitated before lifting his head from the pillow. James was sitting at his desk, flipping through a textbook, completely unbothered.

"Morning, Remus," James said casually. "Sleep well?"

Remus swallowed hard, his voice rough. "Yeah. I did."

James grinned. "You two hungry? I was thinking of grabbing food."

Remus glanced at Grant, searching for discomfort, but found only quiet reassurance. Grant’s fingers brushed faintly over his hand, grounding him. The world outside this room was still turning.

Remus hesitated, but the gnawing hunger won. "Yeah," he said. "I could eat."

Grant gave him a nod of approval, his presence easing the anxiety for a moment. He stood from the bed, and Remus followed, glancing back at James, whose grin hadn’t wavered.

“Give us a couple of minutes to get ready, yeah?” Remus asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“Course, mate, no problem. I’ll wait in the common room,” he said, heading for the door.

Remus ran a hand through his hair, staring at the clothes. “I, uh… I’m sorry. I don’t think any of my trousers will fit you. You can borrow one of my jumpers—you’ll probably be drowning in it.”

Grant raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a small smile. “It’s fine, Remus. The jumper will do. Probably should have brought some stuff with me, but I came straight from work. Wanted to get here as soon as I could.”

Remus selected a maroon jumper with a small golden lion patch and handed it to Grant. Then, reality hit—changing in front of him. The thought of exposing his leg, of revealing what lay beneath the fabric, made his chest ache.

He stole a glance at Grant, who was busy fiddling with his borrowed clothes, but Remus still felt the threat of being scrutinized, even though he knew Grant wasn’t like that.

Would it be weird to go to the bathroom? That’s what he usually did when James was around.

His hands tightened around the fabric. Grant, sensing his hesitation, looked up, brow furrowing slightly. He didn’t press, but his quiet awareness was unmistakable.

“Remus…” His tone was light, laced with affection. “I’d like to see your leg if you’re ready. But I get it. No rush.”

Remus froze, heart hammering. Grant was so straightforward, so understanding. And yet, he didn’t know how to navigate this.

The room felt smaller. His instinct was to deny it, to escape. But Grant’s patience, his simple invitation to trust him, cut through his defenses.

Swallowing hard, Remus nodded, his voice tight. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll show you.”

Grant’s expression softened, glinting with relief and something else—adoration, maybe. He stepped forward, but not too close. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said quietly.

Remus couldn’t meet his gaze right away. Instead, he tugged off his shirt, heat rushing to his skin. As he lowered his trousers, the scarred remnants of his leg came into view—red and jagged, still healing in places, a lingering memory of the damage.

Silence.

He could feel Grant’s eyes, but when he finally looked up, he saw no pity. No discomfort. Just softness. Concern. And guilt—quiet but unmistakable.

“Oh, Remus…” Grant’s voice was a whisper, raw with emotion. His gaze flickered downward, as though giving Remus space to breathe. “I… I’m so sorry. I wasn’t there.”

Remus flinched, expecting shock or disgust, but Grant’s hand hovered, waiting, never pushing.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Remus murmured, voice shaky but firm. “It’s just… part of me now.” He hesitated, then added, “You’re not disgusted?”

Grant immediately shook his head. “Not a chance. You are beautiful. Always have been.”

Remus felt tears prick at his eyes.

Grant’s fingers brushed down his arm. “You’re still you. You’re more than what happened to you.”

Remus took a breath, unsteady but lighter. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Anytime.”

Grant pulled him into a gentle hug, his heartbeat steady beneath Remus’s ear.

Once Remus was dressed and had taken his medication, he and Grant slipped out to meet James in the common room.

James practically bounced over. “Alright, gents. How about some breakfast? There’s a diner I’ve been meaning to try.”

Remus hesitated, glancing down at his hands. “I, uh, haven’t gotten my first paycheck yet.”

Grant nudged him. “My treat.”

Remus gave a reluctant but grateful smile. “Thanks, Grant.”

James clapped Remus on the back. “Perfect! Let’s go—I’m starving.”

The diner had a warm energy, and they quickly settled into a booth. The full English breakfasts arrived, heaping with crispy bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, grilled tomatoes, and toast—comfort food at its best. They ate, laughed, and talked about everything and nothing. James seemed to enjoy teasing both of them, but Remus could tell he was genuinely trying to make Grant feel included, which made him grateful.

Over full English breakfasts, conversation flowed easily. James peppered Grant with questions, making sure he felt included, and for the first time in a while, Remus wasn’t thinking about everything weighing on him.

As they finished eating, Grant checked his watch. “I should get going,” he said, pulling Remus into a last hug. “I’ll visit again soon, yeah?”

Remus nodded, heart full. “See you soon.”

Once he heard the bell above the door jingle as Grant made his exit, Remus looked over at James, who was already digging into his last bite of toast. “Thanks for this morning,” he breathed.

James looked up, surprised by the openness in Remus’s voice. “No problem, mate.”

With that, relief settled in Remus’s bones.

Chapter Text

Monday

Sirius strolled into the classroom with the confidence that only he could pull off. His usual charm was in full force as he surveyed the room—filled with unfamiliar faces. Remus was sitting in the front right next to Lily. Sirius had to fight the urge to smirk when he saw him—he just looked so studious. And while Sirius was here for a bit of the education McGonagall was offering, he was mostly here for the company.

He walked to the front of the class before dropping into the seat next to Remus with the greeting, “Fancy seeing you two here.”

Remus didn’t even look at him, though the faint exhale of frustration was enough for Sirius to know he’d managed to elicit some kind of reaction. He could practically feel Remus cursing his presence.

Lily muttered under her breath. “Yes, it is quite fancy seeing you here being that you don’t even take this class.”

“Well, you just made it sound so interesting at the pub, thought I’d check it out for myself.”

Before he could receive any sarcastic retort, Professor McGonagall walked in, a vision of authority in her sharp black suit. Sirius immediately straightened, taking on his best ‘I’m totally here to study’ expression.

She wasted no time. Her eyes scanned the class, and it only took a second before they landed on him.

"Excuse me," she said, a slight edge of confusion in her voice as she looked directly at Sirius. "I don’t believe I recognize you."

“Ah, Professor McGonagall, I’m Sirius Black. I’m auditing your class. Lily Evans mentioned it was quite engaging,” he said tilting his head in Lily’s direction, who rolled her eyes in response.

McGonagall seemed less than impressed, but she didn’t seem the type to make a scene. “I see. Well, Mr. Black, I hope you understand that I will not tolerate distractions in my lecture.”

Sirius wasn’t fazed. “Of course, Professor. I’m all about engagement. You’ve got my full attention.”

She stared at him for a moment longer before nodding curtly. “Very well.”

With that, McGonagall began the lecture. Sirius leaned in a little closer to Remus, who was already flipping through his notes. There was something soothing about the way Remus focused—how his brow furrowed and tongue stuck out just slightly in the corner of his mouth. It made Sirius want to get closer, to shake him out of his bubble of intense concentration.

McGonagall was already talking, her voice clear and precise as she began her lecture. “Today, we’ll be discussing the ongoing feminist movement and its impact throughout the 1960s and into the present. This movement isn’t just about women’s rights—it’s a radical redefinition of gender itself. It’s questioning the roles men and women are expected to play, both in society and in the private sphere. It’s transforming what we consider the very idea of gender equality.”

McGonagall paused, eyes landing on Remus.

“Mr. Lupin,” she said, her tone slightly more measured, “After last class’s reading on this topic, could you share your thoughts on how the feminist movement is influencing perceptions of masculinity?”

Sirius sat up a little straighter, his eyes flicking to Remus as he waited for his answer. Remus hesitated only slightly as he glanced sideways at Sirius. Then he cleared his throat and began his response.

“Well, the feminist movement isn’t just challenging women’s roles—it’s also forcing society to reevaluate masculinity. As women fight for their right to work, to have autonomy over their lives, and to break free from restrictive gender norms, men are starting to question the roles they’ve been forced into as well. We’re seeing debates about whether strength and emotion have to be mutually exclusive. And as more women demand equality in the workplace, men are realizing they can be more than just ‘providers’—they can be fathers, caregivers, or even more emotionally open.”

Sirius couldn’t help but watch intently, hungry for every word from Remus’ mouth.

“The movement,” Remus continued, “is proving that gender roles aren’t static. Men, too, can defy expectations—can express vulnerability without being seen as weak.”

“Excellent, Mr. Lupin,” McGonagall interrupted, nodding in approval. “Thank you for that insight. It’s important to remember that the feminist movement isn’t just redefining the place of women in society—it’s also forcing us to rethink how gender is shaped for everyone.”

Sirius leaned in close to Remus’ ear careful to keep his voice quiet enough so McGonagall wouldn’t overhear. “You quite know your stuff. Might need a study session with you to catch up if I’m going to continue auditing this class”

As he pulled away he noticed that Remus’ skin had gone about three shades redder than a few moments ago and he seemed to be deliberately not looking at him, which gave Sirius a flutter of satisfaction.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the conversation flow around him. He had accomplished his goal this time around. He just needed to slowly chip away at Remus until he fully revealed himself.

—

Tuesday

Sirius perched on the ledge of an old stone building, trying to shake off the lingering haze of a long lecture. He had a few minutes before his next class, but he wasn’t ready to head in just yet. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, his eyes scanning the bustling courtyard. They landed on a familiar figure—Remus, leaning casually against a tree. Sirius hadn’t expected to bump into him so soon, but who was he to pass up the opportunity? A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pushed himself off the ledge and strolled toward him, the cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers.

"Oi, Remus," Sirius greeted with a tilt of his head, running his fingers through his hair to untangle the mess the wind had made of it.

Remus turned at the sound of his voice, a faint glimmer of warmth in his eyes, though it quickly faded into something less open.

"Hey," Remus said, his gaze flicking to the cigarette between Sirius's fingers. His voice took on a faux sternness. "You really shouldn’t smoke, you know. It’s bad for you."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a broad grin overtaking his face. "I’m pretty sure you’re smoking right now," he said, his eyes darting to Remus's hand that was concealed out of sight, where a wispy trail of smoke was drifting from behind his back.

"No," Remus replied, his expression deadpan. "I’m not."

Sirius let out a small scoff, taking a long drag of his cigarette and holding it for a moment before letting the smoke swirl lazily into the air. "Really? Because it's either that or your jumper’s on fire."

Remus’s eyes flickered briefly as if weighing whether to play along. With a sigh, he finally pulled his hand from behind his back, revealing the cigarette nestled between his fingers. He raised it to his lips, taking a slow drag while keeping Sirius’s gaze locked. "Nope," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air above Sirius’s head. "I’m most definitely not."

Sirius stared at him, trying to keep his smile in check. "Right," he said, feigning disbelief. "Clearly, I'm mistaken."

“Exactly.” Remus’ lips curling just slightly. He tossed the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with the end of his cane. Sirius watched him, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the playful deflection.

"Well," Sirius said, raising his cigarette in a mock salute, "if that’s the case, I suppose I’m not smoking either."

Remus didn’t bite on the sarcasm. Instead, he slowly dragged his eyes over Sirius, the look unreadable as usual. For a moment, Sirius lost himself in the intensity of it, and when he snapped back to reality, it felt like Remus had shifted closer—had he always been this close? Sirius didn’t think so.

Before Sirius could make sense of it, Remus’s hand brushed his, just the faintest touch, as he swiped the cigarette from his fingers in one fluid motion.

"Guess you’re not," Remus murmured, his voice low and rough. Without breaking eye contact, Remus put the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, the smoke swirling between them like something tangible. Sirius swallowed hard, resisting the urge to close more of the distance and breathe in the air straight from Remus’ mouth.

"I’ve got class soon," Remus added, stepping back and turning to leave. But before he walked away, he glanced back at Sirius one last time, a look that left him rooted to the spot, momentarily speechless.

Sirius watched him go. It had been too brief, too fleeting. He wanted more—more of that strange pull, more of the tension in the air. And yet Remus was already walking away, his shoulders tense as he used his cane to make long purposeful strides.

"You know," Sirius called after him, his voice laced with frustration. "if you weren’t trying so hard to avoid me, we could actually have a proper conversation."

Remus paused mid-step, before turning back to face Sirius, his expression neutral. "I’m not avoiding you, Sirius," he said, his tone measured, though there was an edge to it. "I’m just busy."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. What could he say to that? Remus turned back and walked away, the distance between them growing with each step.

He stood there for a long moment, wondering what had just happened—and why the thought of his cigarette between Remus’ lips was so damn enticing.

—-

Friday

Sirius hesitated only briefly outside the dorm before knocking, even though he already knew James wouldn’t answer. He’d made a show of forgetting about James’s football practice, but he’d actually been waiting for the excuse. A convenient opportunity, nothing more.

The door opened a crack, just enough for Remus to peek through, one eyebrow lifting in mild surprise. "Sirius?" His voice carried the usual blend of caution and exasperation. "What are you doing here?"

Sirius leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. "James around?"

Remus just looked at him. A slow, unimpressed blink.

"You know he’s not."

Sirius pursed his lips like he was deep in thought. "Do I?" He glanced off to the side, rubbing his chin. "Oh, right—football practice. Must’ve slipped my mind."

Remus let out a long sigh, the kind that suggested he saw straight through him, but after a beat, he stepped back and pulled the door open. "Fine. Come in, then."

Sirius grinned like he’d won something and strolled inside. The dorm was much the same as usual—James’s side in varying states of organized chaos, and Remus’s corner void of anything except a neat stack of books and coursework. A faint crackle of static hummed from James’s record player on the desk, the needle resting idly in the center of the vinyl. A few albums were stacked beside it, and Sirius recognized Rumours sitting on top.

Remus shut the door behind him, rubbing the back of his neck as he lingered near his bed. "So?"

Sirius flopped onto James’s bed, stretching out like he owned the place. "So," he echoed, rocking onto his elbows, watching Remus with easy amusement.

A quiet settled between them. Not tense, exactly, but thick with something unsaid. Sirius was good at filling silence, but for once, he let it stretch, waiting to see what Remus would do with it.

Remus exhaled through his nose, glancing at the record player. "I was listening to music before you knocked."

Sirius tilted his head. "James’s music?"

Remus huffed. "Obviously. It’s his record player."

"And his albums?"

"Yep," Remus said, emphasizing the 'p.' "But I only pick the ones I actually like."

Sirius smirked. "Ah, so you’re curating the experience. Good to know." He propped himself up on his elbows, nodding toward the turntable. "What were you listening to?"

Remus hesitated, then shrugged. "Fleetwood Mac."

"Rumours?" Sirius guessed, already knowing the answer.

Remus gave a small nod.

Sirius made a lazy gesture. "Don’t let me stop you."

For a moment, it seemed like Remus might resist, but then he stepped over to the desk and carefully lifted the needle, setting it where he had left off. The soft hum of static filled the room, followed by the opening chords of I Don’t Want to Know.

Sirius grinned, tapping his fingers against his knee. "You ever think about what it must be like to be in that band? The breakups, the cheating, writing songs about each other while still playing together?"

Remus exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Sounds miserable."

Sirius stretched his arms behind his head. "Sounds brilliant. All that emotion turning into music? That’s why it’s so damn good."

Remus gave him a sideways look. "You like the messy ones, don’t you?"

Sirius shrugged. "Best kind."

"Figures." Remus snorted softly.

Sirius caught the teasing edge in his voice. "Come on, don’t tell me you don’t think The Chain is one of the greatest songs ever written."

Remus let out a small, conceding breath. "I didn’t say that."

"Exactly," Sirius said triumphantly. "So what else have you been stealing from James’s collection?"

Remus rolled his eyes but turned back to the stack of records, flipping through them with careful fingers. "He’s got Houses of the Holy."

Sirius sat up properly, beaming. "Oh, now that’s a good one."

Remus turned the album over in his hands, tracing the tracklist. "I like No Quarter a lot."

Sirius let out an exaggerated gasp. "Remus Lupin likes No Quarter? I never would’ve guessed."

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. "It means you’ve got taste."

Remus rolled his eyes again, but there was something lighter in his expression now. He set Houses of the Holy aside and pulled out another album. "Dark Side of the Moon," he said simply, turning it toward Sirius.

Sirius grinned. "Pink Floyd? Now we’re talking." He gestured at the record player. "Put it on."

Remus paused, but then Rumours ended, and without much thought, he replaced it with the vinyl in his hands. The room filled with the eerie, pulsing heartbeat of Speak to Me, and Sirius leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment.

They listened for a while, letting the music settle around them. The conversation slowed, then drifted into silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just easy. Like they were truly sharing something.

Halfway through the album, as Us and Them played in the background, Remus spoke up.

"I used to listen to music with my mum when I was younger." His voice was quiet, but Sirius heard the shift in it, the careful way he said it—like he wasn’t used to giving up this kind of information.

An electric rush shot through him, a dizzy sort of headrush that came with the realization that Remus was letting him in, just a little. He kept his voice light, careful not to make it feel like a big deal. "Yeah?"

Remus nodded, staring at the ceiling. "She was always quiet, but music was something we shared. When my father was at work…he didn’t care for it much."

Sirius swallowed, watching him closely. "What did you listen to?"

Remus’s face softened slightly, his eyes going distant like he was somewhere else entirely. "Bob Dylan," he murmured. "The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan is her favorite."

Sirius glanced toward the stack of records. He shuffled through them, flipping past Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Stones—until he found it. A woman clinging to Dylan’s arm on a snowy street, the two of them wrapped up against the cold.

"Got it," Sirius said, holding up the album.

Remus blinked in surprise, sitting up slightly. "James has that?"

Sirius smirked. "Apparently." He pulled Dark Side of the Moon off the turntable and slid Freewheelin’ into place—the room filled with the familiar, wandering strum of Blowin’ in the Wind.

Remus didn’t say anything. But as the song played, he exhaled slowly, something in his posture unwinding.

Sirius leaned back, stealing a glance at Remus from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him look so... at peace. In that moment, with serenity softening Remus’ features, Sirius thought he could stay like this forever.

Chapter Text

At the back of the Astronomy classroom, Remus’ eyes were half-focused on the constellation map projected on the wall, but the lecture at the front of the dim room felt distant as if it were happening on another plane entirely. Professor Sinistra’s voice hummed in and out of his awareness, barely reaching through the fog of his thoughts. The warmth of the room made him feel slightly suffocated, and the sound of pencils scribbling on paper as students took notes only served as background noise to flashbacks playing in his head.

Sirius.

It was almost impossible to ignore. He’d spent the last few days trying—focusing on his classes, keeping his head down—but every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Sirius’s smile, the way his voice brightened when they talked about music, the way his gaze had lingered just a bit too long.

Stop it.

He gripped the edge of his desk a little tighter, trying to ground himself in the present, to focus on the constellations he was supposed to be studying. But even with the map laid out in front of him, the stars didn’t feel as distant as they should. Everything felt too close, too real.

"Remus?"

A low voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and clear, like a pin through a balloon.

Remus blinked and turned, looking up to find Barty watching him with a bemused smile from the desk beside his. Barty leaned back slightly, one eyebrow arched in silent question.

"What?" Remus muttered, forcing himself to look at the projection instead of Barty’s probing gaze.

"Something on your mind?" he teased, but there was a glimmer of something more curious behind it. "You’ve been awfully quiet today. What’s up, Lupin?"

Remus’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip. "Nothing."

Barty didn’t look convinced. "Come on," he said, drawing the word out in mock exasperation. "You haven't replied to anything we’ve said for the last fifteen minutes."

"Really," Remus replied, his voice flat, "nothing’s wrong. Just tired, that’s all."

The sound of a disbelieving scoff came from the seat on his other side. Reggie clearly wasn’t buying it either. He cocked his head and gave Remus an exaggerated once-over. "You’ve got that whole mysterious brooding thing going like you’re in some kind of angsty novel." He gestured his hand about in a circular motion hovering over Remus’ face to prove his point.

Remus turned his head from side to side slowly, giving them both a flat look. "What, you want me to entertain you in Astronomy class now?

"Not particularly," Reggie said with a smirk, nudging Evan. "But that’s not what we’re asking. You look like someone who’s had their mind stolen. You know, not all there today." He tapped a finger against Remus’ forehead a bit more forceful than necessary.

Remus snorted, leaning back in his chair trying his best to not let on. "You’re reading too much into things, Reg. Relax."

Evan leaned over Reggie so Remus could hear him as he talked in a hushed tone, clearly not willing to give up. "Oh, we’re reading too much into this, yeah? Why are you still avoiding the question then?"

"Because there is nothing going on," Remus hissed. "I’m just—"

"Just what?" Barty cut in, crowding into Remus’ space, eyes narrowed but a grin on his lips. "Just thinking about your favorite constellation? Or maybeeee something—or someone—has caught your attention?"

The word someone hit Remus like a cold splash of water, and for a moment, he froze. Sirius’s face flashed into his mind, but he pushed the thought down quickly, keeping his tone light. "Of course, I’m thinking about stars, that’s what this lecture is about," he said, gesturing at the projection on the wall.

Evan snorted. "Nah, mate. You’ve been staring at that for the better part of an hour, and I can tell it’s not the constellations keeping your attention."

"Oh, please," Remus muttered, rolling his eyes and shifting in his seat. "I wasn’t aware that learning to interrogate someone was on the syllabus for this class."

"Well, you’re definitely acting like something’s bothering you," Reggie said, winking. "So what is it?”

Remus could feel his cheeks burn. "Nothing," he repeated the same excuse, forcing the words out with more conviction than he felt. "Just tired is all."

Barty watched him with an almost knowing look. "You’re full of shit, Lupin. But fine, we’ll drop it…for now.” He shook his head, a smile still plastered on his face.

Soon after class ended and students began filing out of the room, the buzz of conversation quickly filled the space. Remus stretched his arms above his head, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts that had made the lecture feel like a haze. He wasn’t in any hurry to leave, though, and let others pass by him as he packed his things.

Barty caught his eye as he made his way to the door. Remus followed, walking at an easy pace beside him.

“Oi, Barty,” Remus said, his voice low but casual. “Can I bum a cigarette?”

Without hesitation, Barty pulled a pack from his pocket, flicked it open, and handed one over. “Course.”

Remus took it with a smile, tucking it behind his ear. “Thanks.”

“You two should really quit smoking, stuff's horrible for your lungs.” Reggie admonished. The familiar words instantly brought Remus back to his conversation with Sirius.

“Don’t know what you're on ‘bout. Just put it here for the aesthetic.” Remus countered pointing where it was poking out from behind his ear.

Reggie gave him a small shove, “Like I believe that any more than I believe you were simply engrossed by the lecture today.”

“Haven’t the faintest what you’re on about, my dear Reggie,” Remus replied, widening his eyes and protruding his bottom lip slightly in an effort to look as innocent as possible.

“Ah, lay off him. He’ll come ‘round eventually.” Evan said patting Reg on the chest.

They all broke off in different directions after that, leaving Remus to stroll through the courtyard. It wasn’t crowded—just a few stragglers moving between buildings—but the quiet suited him just fine. No rush. He wandered toward the far corner of the yard, to the old tree that had been his favorite spot since he started uni. It wasn’t anything special, not really. Just a place to clear his head and be alone.

He stopped in front of the tree, pausing for a moment before leaning against it, the bark rough against his back.

Don’t be stupid, he thought. You’re not waiting for him.

It was a familiar feeling now, this tug, this undercurrent of hope that somehow, some way, Sirius might turn up again. But Remus shoved it aside, It retrieved the cigarette from behind his ear and reached into his bag for his lighter. With practiced ease, he lit it and inhaled deeply. He wasn’t waiting for anyone. This was just his spot. He came here for the silence, for the quiet away from everything else.

It’s just the tree, he reminded himself.

But it was hard to ignore the gnawing feeling at the back of his mind. The way Sirius had laughed that day, the way their conversation had felt like something more than just words. Remus let out a breath, trying to focus on the present, to let the smoke swirl into the air and distract him from the thoughts circling in his head.

No sign of Sirius. No one else around. Just the tree, the sunshine, and the quiet of the courtyard. Remus took another drag, trying to settle his thoughts, but there it was again: the nagging question of whether he was just imagining things. Was Sirius flirting with him? Why would he?

The rest of his classes for the day went much like the first. He couldn’t focus or fully form any answers when he was called on by his professors. Originally, he had planned to go to the library to get some studying done, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. So, as Remus walked out of his Critical Pedagogy class, he decided to go back to the dorm room and lie down. At least there, he could drift off into his own thoughts without being pestered.

Once he reached his room, he slid off his shoes, swallowed a pill, and lay down in his bed. After about thirty minutes, the door creaked open, and Remus looked up to see Sirius standing there, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway.

“Told you that you should start locking your door,” Sirius said, his dark hair falling into his eyes, which had that familiar spark.

“Right, something about tossers walking in uninvited, if I recall correctly. Clearly, I should have taken the warning more seriously,” Remus said, trying to sound annoyed, but it came out much fonder than he intended.

Sirius stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorframe with a crooked smile. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbows. “No more than usual.”

Sirius gave a devilish grin, looking entirely too attractive. “Good. Wormy’s working out a new chess strategy and being a bit of a prat, so I thought I’d come bother you again.” He made his way over to the bed, looming over Remus, who was still half-lying down.

Remus sat up the rest of the way and swung his legs off the side of the bed, gesturing for Sirius to sit next to him. Remus thought this might be a clear sign that he was a glutton for punishment, but if Sirius was going to hold a permanent residence in his head, he might as well get some new material to add to the memories that replayed over and over in his mind.

“Should I put some music on first?” Sirius asked, his voice betraying a hint of excitement.

Was this a signal? Could Sirius actually be interested? No. No. He’s just a charming guy, Remus mentally reprimanded himself.

“Remus. Hello?” Sirius was waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention.

Clearing his throat, Remus replied, “Sure, sure. Whatever you like.”

“Whatever I’d like?” Sirius echoed, his eyes raking over Remus. He seemed to snap back to himself and added, “Be back in a tick.”

Remus watched intently as Sirius stepped over to the collection of albums on James’ desk, selecting one that Remus couldn’t see from where he was sitting. Sirius quickly made his way back to the bed, sitting as close to Remus as he could without touching.

The sound of You Really Got Me Now by The Kinks filled the room, and Remus’ face scrunched up, momentarily confused. “This isn’t the opening song on the album.”

“Right you are. Started it in the middle; the song just… called to me,” Sirius said with a wink.

A furious blush crept up Remus’ neck and overtook his face as he thought about the lyrics pulsing from the speaker. Sirius seemed satisfied with this reaction, giving a small laugh before flopping backward onto the bed, his legs still dangling off the side. Before he could second-guess himself, Remus reclined too, but quickly realized they had, impossibly, gotten a little closer in the process. The proximity didn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, it felt natural. But when Sirius turned his head just slightly, their shoulders brushed. Remus’ breath caught, though he tried to disguise it as a casual shift in posture. He looked straight up at the ceiling, refusing to let his thoughts spiral. He hadn’t meant for any of this to feel so intimate. It wasn’t like he was trying to read too much into it. And yet, everything in him buzzed, as though it was a question he hadn’t figured out the answer to yet.

When the sound of crackling drifted through the air, signifying the end of the album, Sirius pushed himself up to switch it out. Remus stayed unmoving, already berating himself for how much he missed the body next to him. Before long, Sirius reclaimed his spot but left no space this time. The entire length of their bodies touched, even where their legs fell off the bed. It took three full songs before Remus realized that Sirius had selected A Night at the Opera as the next listen. He had been too focused on the way Sirius’ hair tickled his face as he gently swayed it side to side in time with the beat, and how he wanted to swallow the sound of the hum in Sirius’ throat.

Soaking in the moment, Remus closed his eyes and tuned in to the music. When Bohemian Rhapsody started playing he let out a noise of appreciation. Sirius turned to look at him and Remus mirrored his movement. Only centimeters separated their noses from touching.

“Like this song do you?” Sirius questioned in a whisper like he didn’t want to shatter how delicate this moment was.

“Love.” Remus replied voice hushed.

Sirius scanned his face. “You remember how you said that you used to listen to music with your mum when you were younger?”

Remus nodded, the tip of his nose grazing Sirius’.

“I used to listen with my brother,” he said, his tone slightly distant, like the words were heavier than he intended them to be.

“You have a brother?”

Sirius let out a low sigh, his fingers brushing Remus’ as he fidgeted. “Yeah. Regulus. When we were younger, we were inseparable. We'd sit for hours, just listening to music, talking about anything. He was... always the steady one, y’know? Composed. While I—well, I was always the outcast.”

Remus was silent, studying him. He could hear the hurt in Sirius’s voice and could see the way his shoulders seemed to tense for a brief moment before he pushed it down. “So, what happened?” Remus asked, almost instinctively

Sirius turned his head, eyes focusing on the ceiling. “When I left home at sixteen, things just... fell apart.” His voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “I couldn’t stay in that house anymore. It was killing me. So, I left.” He looked back at Remus, his eyes holding a strange mixture of sadness and resignation. “He used to sneak out to see me, but each time it seemed like he hated me more. So, eventually, that stopped. Haven’t seen him for a long time.”

Remus felt a pang of sympathy, even though he didn’t know the whole story. He knew all too well how families could cause pain. “That sounds... hard,” he said gently, not sure how to put it into words.

Sirius let out a chuckle, but it didn’t carry the usual lightness it usually did. “We’re different people now. I don’t even think he gets why I left.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, the sound of the needle crackling at the end of the vinyl filling the space between them. Remus shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. It felt like he was intruding on something deeply personal. But then, Sirius spoke again, his voice reminiscent.

“You know, Regulus was the one who got me into Queen,” he said, his voice lighter now, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He was obsessed with the band. We’d spend hours listening to their albums, talking about the lyrics like we were philosophers. He had this... way of making everything seem important.”

Remus smiled faintly, his gaze shifting to the vinyl player where the finished record was still spinning. “Sounds like you two had some good times.”

“We did,” Sirius said, his voice almost wistful. “We really did.”

Remus nodded, a soft understanding passing between them. He reached over and placed his hand on top of Sirius’, giving it a small squeeze.

Just then, the door swung open, and they both sat up abruptly. James glanced between the two of them, momentarily processing, before closing the door and walking fully into the room.

“Alright, lads?”

“Yeah–”

“Always–”

Remus and Sirius spoke at the same time.

“Right,” James said, stretching out the word like he had more to say but decided against it. “Well, I just ran all over the pitch for two hours and I’m bloody starving. Fancy some dinner? I just need to shower and change.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Sirius said, his voice bright.

“Why don’t you go back to your room and see if Pete wants to join?” James said, looking at Sirius.

Sirius gave a small eye roll but obliged the request. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Chop-chop, Prongs,” he called as he exited the room.

Once James had cleaned up and Peter was retrieved, they walked to the dining hall together. The canteen was crowded, and it took them a few minutes to find a table that would accommodate their group, though it was a tight squeeze. James and Peter sat on one side of the small table, and Sirius and Remus sat on the other.

James and Peter were already talking animatedly about their most recent chess match, Peter grinning widely.

“I swear, I was so close this time,” James said, laughing as he grabbed a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “I thought I’d actually win for a second.”

Peter, practically glowing with pride, shook his head. “No, no—I had it all under control. I told you, lay off the Queen’s Gambit. You were too focused on the pawns, mate. You’re getting as predictable as you are in rock, paper, scissors.”

“You sure you weren’t just lucky?” James teased, giving Peter a friendly shove.

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s called strategy, Prongs. You might want to try it sometime.”

Sirius, who had been listening to the banter with mild interest, glanced at Remus. There was a subtle smile on his face, a quiet amusement playing on his features.

“So,” Sirius said, his voice low but carrying just enough for Remus to hear, “you planning on sharing that millionaire shortbread?”

Remus shook his head. “Not a chance, it’s my favorite. Why didn’t you grab one if you wanted it? There was a whole sec–”

His words were cut off as he felt the subtle pressure of Sirius’ leg brushing against his right leg under the table. It was slight at first, almost an accident, but as the seconds ticked by, Sirius didn’t move away, as if making sure they stayed in each other’s orbit. Instead, he kept his leg pressed against Remus’s, the warmth radiating through their clothes.

Remus felt his breath catch, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure why it felt so... intimate. So simple, and yet so loaded.

“There was what?” Sirius asked, resting his chin in his hand and batting his eyes innocently.

Remus tried to think up a reply, but his mind kept wandering back to the subtle pressure under the table. He shifted slightly, his knee brushing against Sirius’s. Just the slightest movement, but it felt like it had sparked something. His pulse quickened, and he suddenly found it hard to look anywhere but the plate in front of him.

“You alright, Remus?” Sirius’s voice was low again but with a hint of teasing now. Remus could hear the smirk in his tone, similar to the first time they met.

Remus forced himself to look up, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

“About what?” Sirius pressed, his thigh staying firmly in place. He didn’t seem bothered in the least by the proximity, and Remus was starting to wonder if he was the only one feeling the weight of it.

“Nothing important,” Remus replied, but his voice was meek, far weaker than he intended. He took a bite of his food, feeling on edge.

Sirius didn’t push any further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair slightly, giving a playful nudge to Remus’s knee under the table. “If you say so,” he said, clearly pleased with himself, and Remus felt his cheeks warm.

James and Peter’s conversation had quieted for a moment, and James turned to look at Sirius and Remus.

“You two are awfully quiet tonight,” he observed with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on? Remus, you look a little flushed, is the food bad?”

“No, no,” Remus replied quickly, looking up to meet James’s gaze. “Just... thinking about this big astronomy project I have coming up.” It wasn’t entirely a lie—he did have a project, but it was far from being the truth in the current situation.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, you’re probably the most dedicated student I’ve met.” James tried to reassure him.

“Right, just have to stay on top of coursework to maintain my scholarship is all. Probably stressing myself out over nothing,” Remus replied, waving him off.

James leaned over the table to give him a quick pat on the shoulder before returning to his plate of food. The conversation picked back up, and Remus relaxed, feeling much better after chomping into his shortbread. But before he finished it, he broke off a corner and set it discreetly on Sirius’s plate.

Chapter Text

With a barely audible sigh, Remus pushed open the heavy door to the clinic. The familiar scent of antiseptic washed over him mingled with a soft hint of floral notes from the potpourri on the counter. It was only his second time here, but it felt like he had stepped into a never-ending cycle.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands ticking steadily towards his appointment time. Five minutes early, as usual. It was just part of who he was - always punctual, even when it meant facing another round of pain, pills, and appointments. His leg had been bothering him for days now, but he could manage. It was the monotony and helplessness of it all that truly weighed on him.

As Pomfrey appeared, her graying curls bounced with each step, filling the room with calm energy. The sound of her voice, professional yet kind, filled the air as she greeted Remus.

“Ah, there ya are! Bang on time. Come on, then.”

Remus trailed behind her into the examination room, his heart racing with nervous anticipation. “Right, up ya get,” she said, motioning to the exam table. He carefully sat, trying not to aggravate his limp or give away his discomfort. The sterile white walls mixed with the fluorescent lights made Remus’ eyes hurt. He fidgeted with his fingers, unable to shake off the anxiety that coiled in his stomach.

“How’s the leg been treating ya since our last visit?” Doctor Pomfrey asked, her eyes scanning his face with that calm, professional concern that made him feel like she saw straight through him.

“It’s… it’s been alright,” Remus said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve been managing fine.” He made sure to keep his tone light, though his words felt hollow. He had been managing, yes—just not in the way he’d like. He didn’t mention the extra pills, the days when the pain had gotten unbearable, or the moments he’d spent lying in bed, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Pomfrey's expression remained skeptical, her raised eyebrow conveying her doubt. She hesitated as if she wanted to press further but held back. "I'm relieved to hear ya say that yer managing," she said slowly. "But pain can be a fickle thing. It doesn't always manifest in obvious ways." She leaned forward, studying Remus intently. "How has it been when yer walking around campus or going about daily activities?"

Remus squirmed on the exam table, his muscles tense. He had been diligently monitoring his activity for the past few days, wary of pushing himself too hard and risking another flare-up. But even with his careful precautions, there were still moments when a sharp twinge would shoot through his body, a reminder that he was in fact not okay.

"It's bearable," he forced a smile, trying to downplay it. "Just some soreness here and there." The phrasing was an oversimplification – the pain sometimes felt like molten lava coursing through his veins – but he wasn’t about to admit that.

Pomfrey nodded, writing something down in her notes before walking over to where he sat. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” She gestured for him to remove his trousers, and he complied, hiding a grimace as she touched his leg gently. Her experienced fingers probed around the area where the injury had been worst, and she hummed thoughtfully.

“Hm. Swelling’s gone down nicely, and the scarring’s healing well,” she said, stepping back to look at him. “How about the pain itself? Any tightness or numbness you’ve noticed lately?”

Remus bit his lip, pushing aside the thought that he had been experiencing some numbness, especially when he first woke up. “Not really,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Just the usual aches. Nothing abnormal. The cream you gave me last visit has helped with the tightness.”

Pomfrey peered at him, her lips pursing in skepticism. But she didn't push the issue. "Right, yer welcome to get dressed now, dear," she tapped a pen against her clipboard and Remus tugged his trousers back into place. "Yer recovery is progressin’ nicely. However, we still need to work on rebuilding the muscles and nerves in yer leg. Have ya considered incorporating swimming into yer rehabilitation?"

“Swimming?” Remus echoed, frowning slightly. “I’m not exactly built for that,” he muttered, self-consciously thinking of the last time he’d worn swim trunks—before everything had gone to hell. He wasn’t keen on the idea of exposing himself like that, not with his scars.

Pomfrey smiled reassuringly. “Swimming is one of the best low-impact exercises you can do. It’ll help ya regain strength without putting too much pressure on yer leg. Plus, the water offers resistance, which is perfect for building muscle. It’s also great for the nerve recovery process—it’ll encourage blood flow to the area and hopefully improve yer mobility. The university has a wonderful facility.”

“I don’t know… I’m not much of a swimmer,” Remus replied, scratching the back of his neck. He was suddenly very aware of his discomfort, trying to imagine himself in a pool, his body exposed and vulnerable. But she was right—it was worth considering. And the idea of doing something that wasn’t just sitting still, popping painkillers, or limping around sounded appealing. He pondered the words, mulling them over in his mind until they found a spot to settle. A moment passed before he spoke again, the weight of his decision evident in his voice. "I'll...give it a try," he finally said, the words coming out slowly and thoughtfully as if testing their weight in the air.

"Good lad," Pomfrey said, returning to her notes to write something down. “You can start slow—twenty minutes a day. And, if at any point you feel like your leg’s responding well, increase the time. We can check back in a few weeks to see how yer gettin’ on.”

Remus nodded, swallowing the words of protest on his tongue. “Thanks,” he said making his way to the exit.

“And love—” She gave him a knowing look.

He looked back, mid-way to the door.

“I know when someone’s playing down their pain,” she said, voice softer now, less clinical. “Honesty will only help me to treat ya. None of this ‘managing fine’ nonsense.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded once. “Got it.”

“Good. Now off ya go, and no skiving off the swimming,” she called as he stepped towards the door.

—-

As Remus pushed open the double doors, he was greeted with the unmistakable smell of chlorine. The high ceilings were adorned with bright lights that reflected off the shimmering blue water below. The constant hum of voices and splashing bounced off the tile walls, filling his ears as he made his way inside. He nervously clutched his swimming trunks as he made his way further inside.

He had come straight from his shift at the library, hoping to get this over with quickly. But now, he was rethinking Pomfrey’s advice. The pool was busier than he’d hoped—students dotted the lanes, some swimming laps with easy, practiced strokes, while others chatting near the shallow end. The sight of it all made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Maybe this was a mistake.

He turned toward the changing rooms, keeping his head down as he pushed through the locker room door. The air was thick with the scent of damp towels and faint traces of deodorant. A few students were still milling about—some standing in front of their lockers, toweling off, others pulling on dry clothes while chatting about assignments and weekend plans.

Remus made his way to the farthest corner, choosing a locker tucked away from the others. He fiddled with the lock for a moment before finally pulling it open, then sat on the bench, dragging out the process of changing. His heart pounded against his ribs as he listened to the sounds around him, waiting.

An hour passed.

One by one, the voices faded, the sound of footsteps echoing towards the exit. The click of the door swinging shut signaled the last person leaving, and silence settled over the room.

Remus exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how tightly wound he had been.

Moving quickly now, before anyone else could walk in, he stripped off his clothes and pulled on his swim shorts. The sight of himself in the mirror made him pause. His skin was a patchwork of scars—some older, faded with time, others newer, still healing. The jagged ones along his leg stood out the most. He ran a hand over them absentmindedly, swallowing the lump in his throat, before turning away.

It didn’t matter. No one was here to see.

Grabbing a towel, he stepped out into the pool area, the air cool against his bare skin. The water was still now, empty lanes stretching out before him. He let out a slow breath.

At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about eyes on him.

Padding to the edge of the pool, he dipped a toe in—cold. He ambled to the ground next to the pool before sliding in, the water swallowing him up to his waist. Goosebumps formed on his skin, but he ignored it, pushing forward until he was deep enough to float.

The weight of his body lifted. His leg, always heavy, always aching, felt lighter. Supported. Almost normal.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift for a moment, water lapping gently around him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The silence of the pool was interrupted by the soft click of the door, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching. Remus was ripped from the comforting weightlessness of the water. His mind already reeling about how he would escape unnoticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of a slender figure.

He scrubbed his eyes trying to rid them of the chlorine.

Reggie.

He stood near the side of the pool in his swim trunks, holding onto a towel, which he wrapped tightly around his torso.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Reggie muttered, sounding almost guilty.

Remus stood where he was in the pool, leg still concealed by the water. "I could say the same to you."

There was a pause, as Reggie hesitated by the edge. He shifted, tugging the towel tighter around his shoulders like it could protect him from Remus' gaze, and then looked away.

“Normally no one is here this late,” Reggie said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. “Usually have the place to myself."

Remus' brows furrowed, sensing there was more to the story. He had been exactly the same way—looking for a moment where no one else could judge him, or notice him, or see his scars. The realization hit him with a jolt, and suddenly the weight of the awkwardness between them made more sense.

"I could turn around if you still want to get in," Remus said before he could stop himself. It’s not like he knew for sure but he felt this strange connection deep within himself.

Reggie stiffened but didn’t say anything at first. He pulled the towel tighter around his body, his jaw setting. "What—Why would I need you to turn around?"

Remus let the quiet stretch between them not sure whether he should say it out loud. There were plenty of reasons Reggie might come here at a time he knew no one else would. But the look in Reggie’s eyes and the way he refused to let his towel drop, Remus knew.

“Somethings…” he paused trying to select his words carefully. “Somethings are just easier without people’s eyes on you. No fear of how they might…react—what they might think.”

Reggie's eyes snapped to meet Remus', understanding passing between them. The tension in Reggie's shoulders eased almost imperceptibly, but his grip on the towel remained firm.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me your’s.” Reggie’s voice was so small, so innocent he almost sounded like a child.

“Okay,” Remus breathed.

The word hung between them, heavy with promise and vulnerability. Remus' heart raced, his chest tightening with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. He took a deep breath and made his way to the pool's edge.

Slowly, deliberately, Remus raised himself out of the water, revealing the tapestry of scars that adorned his leg. The raised pink lines crisscrossed his skin, telling a story of pain that he kept hidden from everyone else. Slowly, he turned in a circle to reveal the older, healed marks scattered across his back from his childhood. He stood there, exposed, water dripping from his body as he waited for Reggie's reaction.

Reggie's eyes widened, tracing the patterns on Remus' skin. His grip on the towel loosened slightly, and Remus could see the internal struggle playing out across his face. Then, with trembling hands, Reggie let the towel fall to the ground.

The bright light of the room illuminated his body, revealing a constellation of scars across his torso and upper arms. Some were thin and faded, hardly visible against his pale skin, their silvery traces barely discernible as they blended into the surrounding flesh. Others were more recent, raised and pink, jagged lines that stood out sharply against his skin, reminiscent of Remus’ own. Some were thicker, more severe, with edges uneven and torn, like skin that had been ripped open.

There were others, too, that were perfectly round—circular marks that looked almost like burns, their edges slightly raised and discolored, as if the wound had seared into the flesh and left a permanent imprint. But the ones on his bicep were the most striking—thin, incredibly straight lines, almost surgical in their precision like someone had deliberately carved into the muscle with a steady hand. They were so clean, so purposeful, that Remus couldn’t help but wonder about the pain behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the gentle lapping of water against the pool's edge, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the beating of their hearts. Remus felt a surge of emotion well up within him—not pity, but a profound sense of understanding and connection.

Reggie's eyes met Remus', vulnerability and defiance warring in his gaze. "Now you know.”

Remus nodded slowly, taking a step closer to Reggie. "Now we don’t have to be alone.”

“Thank you.” Reggie's eyes flooded with relief, lips curving up a bit at the corners. “Still fancy a swim?”

“Of course, doctor’s orders and all.” Remus replied feeling like something monumental just occurred.

They both stepped towards the pool's edge before sliding in. The water rippled as they entered, creating gentle waves.

For a moment, they simply floated there, the silence between them no longer awkward but companionable. The chlorine-scented air hung around them, mixing with the weight of their shared secrets.

Remus watched as Reggie's body relaxed in the water, his scars now hidden beneath the surface. There was something almost poetic about it, Remus thought, how the pool could offer such a perfect metaphor for their lives - the constant struggle to keep their heads above water, to hide the parts of themselves that the world might find unsightly or uncomfortable.

They spent nearly forty-five minutes in the pool, their skin becoming completely pruny before they finally decided to call it a night.

After they changed and started toward the exit Reggie spoke up. "I've never shown anyone before," he admitted, his voice low and contemplative. "It's... strange. But not in a bad way…Anyway, same time tomorrow?"

“I’ll be here.” Remus agreed, offering a smile.

Chapter Text

Evan looked up at Remus from where he had been peering through the eyepiece of the massive telescope and shook his head laughing, "Mate, if you don't come back to Earth soon, we'll have to add you as a constellation on our star map."

Remus quickly blinked to clear his mind and focus on their project. Charting the stars was a crucial part of their final grade, and they had to spend several nights working on it as a team. Professor Sinistra was known for her high standards when it came to accuracy. Despite the pressure, Remus was beginning to enjoy spending time in the astronomy tower. It did require breaks for him to climb the steep staircase to the top, but once there, he felt a sense of tranquility wash over him. From this vantage point, high above the grounds of Hogwarts, it was as if he were slightly detached from his worries - at least for a little while. The vast expanse of glittering stars above seemed almost otherworldly, and Remus couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and awe at the beauty of it all.

Remus offered a wry smile, his amber eyes reflecting the starlight, "I don’t know, that doesn’t sound so bad," he mused softly. "Think I might enjoy being a part of the night sky. Seems peaceful."

“Guess you can join our resident star up there then.” Barty cut in clapping Reggie on the back.

“What are you on about?” Remus asked, confusion overtaking his features.

“Reggie? Evan provided, but when Remus still didn’t show any signs of understanding he continued, “Blimey mate, we mapped the Leo constellation last time. Remember we had to get up before dawn to see it?”

Remus thought, running through the stars of that constellation. Zosma, Denebola, Algieba, Regulus… wait. Realization hit him.

"Reg," he started slowly, his eyes widening as realization dawned on him, "Is your full name Regulus?"

“You didn’t know that?” Evan asked like he thought it was common knowledge.

"You can't be serious." Remus breathed out in disbelief, now seeing all the similarities between Reggie and Sirius that he hadn't pieced together before.

“No, that would be my brother.” Regulus looked regretful as soon as he made the pun. “Christ, can’t believe I said his stupid joke.”

Remus coughed trying to disguise the information swirling around in his head. "Right then," he said, reaching for the parchment where they had been meticulously recording their observations. "Where were we?"

As Barty delved into their progress, Remus felt his attention wandering again. His mind drifted back to the memory of lying next to Sirius on his bed. He could almost feel the warmth of Sirius beside him as he spoke about how close he'd once been with his brother, and how it had all unraveled. Sirius had talked about Regulus not understanding how he was slowly dying in the house they grew up in. But Remus had seen Regulus' scars—surely Sirius knew that house was killing him too. Right? When had Regulus received his first scar? Did Sirius even know?

Remus' thoughts were interrupted by Barty’s voice. "It's

Cassiopeia next, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing towards the northern sky.

Remus nodded, grateful for the distraction from his tumultuous thoughts. As they adjusted the telescope, he found himself studying Regulus more closely. Remus noticed how Regulus would occasionally glance towards the Gryffindor dorm, a fleeting look of longing crossing his face before being quickly masked. In those unguarded moments, Remus saw echoes of Sirius - the same sharp cheekbones, the same stormy grey eyes. Yet where Sirius burned bright and fierce, Regulus seemed to glow with a softer, more subdued light. His movements were careful and measured, a stark contrast to his brother's spirited energy.

The time ticked by, and the group fell into a comfortable rhythm of observation and notation. Remus was drawn into conversation with Regulus, their words flowing easily as they discussed the intricacies of celestial mechanics. There was an unexpected depth to Regulus' knowledge, a passion that shone through when he spoke of the stars and their stories.

As the night deepened, the four boys worked diligently, their pencils scratching against parchment in a soothing rhythm that blended with the whisper of the breeze.

Evan stifled a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. "I think that's enough for tonight, lads. We've made good progress."

Barty nodded in agreement, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "Right, you are. Let's pack it up."

They began to gather their materials, carefully rolling up star charts and stowing away the telescope. Remus found himself lingering, his gaze drawn once more to the vast expanse above even as the others started back down the stairs. The night sky had always held a peculiar fascination for him, perhaps because of its constancy - the stars, distant and twinkling, seemed to offer a sense of permanence in a world that often felt chaotic and unpredictable. Yet tonight, his eyes were inexorably drawn to the moon, a waxing gibbous hanging high in the sky, its silvery light casting long shadows across the astronomy tower.

Looking at its pockmarked surface, Remus felt a strange sense of kinship with the celestial body. Like him, the moon bore scars - its craters etched into its face, yet it returned each night, undeterred. Over his trousers he traced his fingers along the raised lines on his thigh, feeling the familiar ridges and valleys of his own scars.

"Remus?" Regulus' voice floated up from the stairwell, tinged with concern. "Are you coming?"

Remus started, realizing he had been lost in thought. "Yes, sorry," he called back, tearing himself away from the moon. He descended the winding stairs, finding Regulus waiting for him at the landing, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Regulus asked, his voice low and gentle. "You seemed... distant up there."

Remus managed a wan smile. "Just tired, I suppose," he lied smoothly, the words falling from his lips with practiced ease. "Late nights and early mornings.”

Regulus studied Remus for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to decipher some hidden message in Remus' face.

"I don't believe you," Regulus said finally, his voice calm but firm. "There's something more, isn't there?"

Remus felt panic rise in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral. "What makes you say that?"

Regulus leaned against the cool stone wall, his eyes never leaving Remus' face. "Call it intuition."

Unease settled in his gut. Regulus' perceptiveness was impressive, reminding him too much of James' uncanny ability to read people.

Finally, Remus sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he leaned against the opposite wall. The narrow stairwell seemed to shrink around them, creating a private space that felt separate from the rest of the world. The moonlight filtered through a nearby window, illuminating Regulus’ face.

"I... I know your brother," Remus admitted barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.

Regulus' eyes widened, surprise evident in the slight parting of his lips and the sudden tension in his body. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, he searched Remus' face as if looking for something.

"You know Sirius?" Regulus finally managed, a mix of curiosity and caution hanging in his question. The name lingered in the air between them, charged with history and emotion.

Remus nodded slowly, "We're," he hesitated, what word would be inadequate to describe their relationship? Mates? Acquaintances? Remus didn’t know, so he settled on, "We met at the beginning of term."

Reggie’s face contorted slightly, clearly struggling with something internally. "How... how is he?" longing and resignation dripped from the question.

The air seemed laden with unspoken emotions. Remus felt a sudden, sharp pang of empathy for Regulus. He knew very little of their story, but it was clear that Reggie was not as indifferent as Sirius thought.

Remus weighed his words trying to think of the best response. “Well, I don’t know him very well…but he’s…he seems to get on alright. I get the sense that there’s more…um…more going on in his head than he lets on though.”

Regulus' eyes took on a faraway look as if lost in memories. "That sounds like Sirius," he said, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "Loud and boisterous on the outside and a million things left unsaid. I think–" He trailed off, leaving Remus unsure how to proceed.

He felt an overwhelming urge to comfort Regulus, to bridge the chasm that seemed to be forming. The stairwell now felt oppressively small.

"Regulus," Remus began tentatively, "I... I don't know the full story between you and Sirius, but I can see that it's complicated. That there's pain there and if it would make you more comfortable,” he took a deep breath, not truly wanting to say the next words. “I can stop hanging out with him.”

Regulus' eyes widened in surprise at Remus' offer, a flicker of emotion passing across his face. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with his words, his brow furrowing as he considered the proposition.

"No," Regulus said finally, his voice faint but resolute. "No, I wouldn't ask that of you. Sirius... he needs people in his life who care about him." He paused, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Even if he'd never admit it."

Remus sighed in relief, realizing only then how much he had dreaded the possibility of distancing himself from Sirius.

"I have a favor to ask, though.” Regulus' fingers began tracing abstract patterns on the stone wall beside him. "Could you... not tell Sirius that I'm here? At Hogwarts, I mean."

Remus felt his brow furrow in confusion. "He doesn’t know you're here?"

Regulus shook his head, a somber smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You'd be surprised. Sirius has always had a talent for seeing only what he wants to see," Regulus murmured. "I suspect he's convinced himself I am taking over the family business."

"I won't say anything," Remus promised.

“Thank you.” there was a beat of silence before Reggie added, “We should probably head back, it’s late.”

The cool night air of early October greeted them as they stepped out of the tower. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestone path, the only sound in the otherwise silent night. Remus glanced at Regulus, chancing one last thing.

"You know," Remus began, "I know it's not my place, but...I think Sirius misses you.”

Regulus halted mid-step, his body frozen as if struck. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, his face hidden in shadow. When he finally turned to face Remus, his eyes glimmered with a mix of emotions - hope, pain, and something deeper that Remus couldn't quite name.

"I think you’re wrong," Regulus replied, there was an edge that hadn’t been there before. “Besides, there are just some things that can’t be forgiven.”

He regretted putting the thought into words, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s ok, I know you meant well.” Reggie morphed his voice back into its usual tone. “See you tomorrow for a swim?”

A smile overtook Remus’ face at this, “Of course. Night, Reg.”

“Goodnight, Remus.”

Remus walked back to his dorm room, his mind racing with thoughts of the night's revelations. The university grounds were eerily quiet at this late hour, the lamps along the sidewalk casting dancing shadows on the old ivy-covered stone walls of the buildings.

He could hear rambunctious laughter and animated chatter from his room as he approached. Remus paused at the door, his hand hovering over the knob as he took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for whatever was happening on the other side. With a gentle twist, he pushed the door open, stepping into a scene of controlled chaos.

The room was awash in warm, golden light from the floor lamp in the corner. The air was filled with the scent of butterbeer and the lingering aroma of chocolates. Peter was sprawled across the floor, his round face flushed with excitement as he jovially waved his hands, nearly knocking over a precariously balanced stack of textbooks. James was lounging on his bed, legs dangling over the edge, idly tossing a football into the air and catching it with practiced ease. Then, turning his attention to his own bed he found Sirius. His long, dark hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo of ink, contrasting sharply with the cream-colored sheets. He lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lazily across his stomach. His eyes were half-lidded with contentment, a lazy smile on his lips. The light from the lamp gave his skin a golden glow, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the elegant curve of his neck.

Sirius' presence seemed to fill the entire room, drawing Remus' gaze like a lodestone. His white t-shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing the tanned skin at his waist. Remus felt like the roles had reversed from their first encounter, now finding it difficult to look anywhere but the exposed skin.

“Oi, Remus! You’re finally back!” James yelled too loud for the small space.

Remus blinked, startled out of his momentary trance by James' zealous greeting. He forced his eyes away from Sirius, willing the heat he felt rising to his cheeks to subside.

"Yeah, just finished up at the astronomy tower," he replied, his voice sounding oddly strained to his own ears. He moved further into the room, carefully stepping over Peter's sprawled form to reach his desk.

"Astronomy, eh?" Sirius drawled, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes came fully alive as they met Remus'. "Learn anything interesting tonight?”

"Just working on a project," Remus said doing his best to keep his tone neutral, "Professor Sinistra's quite hard to please."

Sirius' eyes sparkled with mischief as he sat up fully, his legs crossing beneath him. "Oh, I bet I could please her," he said with a wink, his voice low and rich like honey. "I've been told I have quite the... celestial body."

James groaned, throwing a pillow at Sirius' head. "That was terrible, mate."

Sirius caught the pillow effortlessly, hugging it to his chest as he laughed. The sound was melodic, filling the room with a warmth that seemed to seep into Remus' very bones.

"You're just jealous of my superior wit, Prongs," Sirius retorted, sticking out his tongue. Then, his gaze locked onto Remus once more, "What do you think, have any thoughts on my celestial body?”

Remus felt his face flush, caught off guard by Sirius' brazen question. He started moving items around on his desk trying to look busy.

"I think," he started, his voice steady despite his heart rate quickly increasing, "that your ego might be large enough to qualify as its own celestial body, Sirius."

The room erupted in laughter, James and Peter howling with delight at Remus' retort. Sirius' mouth popped open a little in surprise before an appreciative grin spread across his face.

"Touché, Remus," Sirius chuckled, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Sooooo," James piped up, "now that you're here, we were discussing going to the pub on Friday. And if you turn us down again, I’m pretty sure it will break Lily’s heart."

"I suppose I could join you this time," Remus said slowly, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "As long as it doesn't interfere with my work schedule."

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. "Lily will be thrilled. She's been asking about you, you know."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at this, his gaze flicking between James and Remus. "Has she now?" he drawled, teasing evident in his voice. "Better watch out, Prongs. Looks like you might have some competition.”

“Har har,” Remus fixed him with his best unimpressed look. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I would like the use of my bed.”

The deep, husky tone of Sirius' voice and the way he nibbled on his lower lip almost brought Remus to his knees. “Wouldn’t mind in the least.” He slid his body to the side and patted the bed next to him."

Remus felt his breath catch in his throat, momentarily stunned by Sirius' bold invitation. The room suddenly felt too warm, too small. He could feel the weight of James and Peter looking at him, waiting to see how he would respond.

"I meant for sleeping," Remus managed to say, his voice coming out slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "It's late, and some of us have early classes tomorrow."

Sirius' eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, more intense. "Spoilsport," he teased, but there was no bite in his tone. He gracefully unfolded himself from Remus' bed, stretching languidly as he stood.

"Well, Peter," Sirius announced, running a hand through his tousled hair, "I suppose that's our cue to leave. Wouldn't want to deprive our dear Remus of his beauty sleep."

James waved from his bed. "Thanks for coming by lads."

Peter grumbled good-naturedly as he pushed himself up from the floor. "Alright, alright. Night, boys."

As the two boys filed out of the room, Sirius brushed by Remus.

"Sweet dreams, Remus," he said softly, his voice low enough that only Remus could hear. "Don't let the stars keep you up all night."

With a final wink, Sirius slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the pounding of Remus' heart in his ears.

He let out a shaky breath before going to the bathroom to brush his teeth. By the time he finished, James was already passed out with his glasses still on his face. Remus sank onto his bed, the mattress still warm from Sirius' body. The scent of smoky leather, with a hint of earthiness, lingered on his pillow, and Remus found himself unconsciously breathing it in as he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

Despite being able to easily fit a trip to the pub into his work schedule, Remus found himself cringing at the thought of going.

After spending the last few nights burying his face into his pillow to breathe in the traces of Sirius that lingered, he was desperate to find a way out. It’s not that he didn’t want to see him, but Sirius was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Remus couldn't escape it. The intense longing and need for control made him nauseous. His efforts to change his library shift were unsuccessful and he felt slightly betrayed by a place he loved so much.

Time was slipping by and his day of independent study had been relatively fruitless for the amount of hours he had spent at his desk. James would be coming home from practice soon and Remus knew he couldn’t be here when he came back. With that thought in mind, he ripped a paper from his notebook with the excuse that the person working at the library tonight had taken ill and they needed him to cover. He set the note on James’ bed and hastily made his exit.

The sky was brimming with hues of pink and orange as the sun began its descent. A light breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine. He could feel the cool air against his cheeks, which made him feel slightly more steady.

Remus wasn’t keen on the idea of going to the library and he had already told Regulus that he couldn’t go swimming tonight, so he just wandered the grounds trying to think of somewhere to hide out until the others had already left for Three Broomsticks.

Once he had made a full loop of the university, Remus’ feet absentmindedly led him to the astronomy tower. As he ascended, the narrow windows cut into the tower's thick walls offered fleeting glimpses of the darkening sky outside. Each aperture framed a different scene: here, a sliver of fading sunlight; there, the first shimmering stars emerging from the twilight. The play of light and shadow across the worn steps created an ever-shifting pattern beneath his feet.

Halfway up, Remus was forced to pause, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. He leaned against the cool stone wall, his fingertips tracing the rough texture as he waited for the stabbing sensation in his leg to subside. Remus closed his eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it gradually slowed.

After a moment, he pushed himself off the wall and continued his ascent. The spiral staircase seemed to stretch endlessly upward, each step a small victory against the persistent fire in his muscles. After two more breaks, Remus finally reached the top.

The observatory was empty, its massive telescope pointing silently toward the heavens. He limped towards the vast window that encompassed nearly half the circular room and lowered himself to the floor, gently placing his cane next to himself.

The last vestiges of daylight were fading, giving way to a tapestry of stars. He closed his eyes, allowing the silence of the observatory to envelop him, a welcome reprieve from the thoughts that had been plaguing him all day. As the darkness deepened, Remus found himself idly tracing constellations with his fingertip on the window where his breath had fogged it.

Time seemed to lose meaning as he sat there. Eventually, the faint sound of the door creaking open broke the silence, startling Remus from his reverie. He assumed it was probably another group from astronomy class looking to work on their assignment. But then, a body took the place on the ground next to him. Without looking he already knew who it was.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, knocking his body gently against Remus’.

“Needed to work on my project some more.” He knew Sirius probably wouldn’t believe it, but he hoped that it would be enough to drop the subject.

“Interesting, I don’t see any charts and James was under the distinct impression that you had work at the library tonight.” Sirius paused like he was giving Remus the chance to explain. But when there was no response he continued. “Imagine my surprise when I went to wait with you until your shift ended to find that you weren’t there. In fact, I had quite an enlightening conversation with some lad called Avery. Said something to the effect of ‘I already told Remus five times that I would not trade shifts with him.’ Not sure he’s your biggest fan if I’m being honest, mate.”

“Well, if he’d learn to properly re-shelve the returns then we wouldn’t have a problem,” Remus grumbled.

“And you are so distraught by books being shelved incorrectly that you had to skip out on our plans?” Sirius retorted easily.

“Clearly you haven’t seen the state of the library after he works. Going to need all night to strategize the reorganization that will need to happen.” He nudged Sirius back, a smile threatening to form on his lips.

Sirius let out a deep chuckle, the sound bouncing off the walls of the serene observatory. Remus couldn't help but steal a glance at him, his eye-line drawn to Sirius' strong jawline and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with his laughter. Desire coursed through Remus as he imagined tracing his tongue along that exposed throat, tasting the salty skin, and feeling Sirius' pulse quicken beneath his lips. Before he could act on it, Sirius spoke again.

"Ah yes, the great library crisis of Hogwarts University. I'm sure it will be written about in history books for generations to come."

Remus felt a warmth spread through his chest, despite his best efforts to remain detached. He turned his gaze back to the window, watching as clouds drifted lazily in front of the moon.

“You seem awfully distracted, what's got your attention?” Sirius probed.

“The moon,” Remus whispered in reply.

"It's beautiful," Sirius murmured, his voice low to match Remus’. "Do you ever feel like it might be a bit lonely up there? Just floating in the vast emptiness of space."

“I don’t think so,” Remus said turning his face, eyes flickering down to Sirius’ lips. “It has the stars for company.”

"And what if the stars aren't enough?" Sirius whispered, barely audible above the sound of their breathing. "What if the moon yearns for something more?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Remus felt his heart pound, aware of every point where their bodies touched - shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. He longed to close the infinitesimal gap between them.

Sirius’ breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his hand tentatively reaching up to tangle in the soft curls of Remus' hair. The air between them was charged with anticipation, but before anything could happen, the door swung open and they quickly pulled away from each other. The moment was shattered, replaced by the realization that their private moment had been interrupted.

A group of students shuffled into the room stopping when they saw the two boys sitting on the floor.

“Sorry, didn’t think another group would be utilizing the tower on a Friday night. You lads almost finished? We have some serious work to do on this project.”

Remus felt his body burn with embarrassment as he hurriedly grabbed his cane and struggled to his feet. Sirius was already up, offering a hand to steady him.

“Yeah, just about to head out. Right, Moony?” The nickname rolled off his tongue easily.

Remus nodded, suddenly unable to find his voice as he allowed Sirius to lead the way towards the door. The group of students parted to let them pass.

The journey down was silent, save for the rhythmic tap of Remus' cane against the stone steps. Each sound echoed in the narrow space, punctuating the tension that had settled between them. Remus was busy replaying the moment in the observatory over and over. The warmth of Sirius' body next to his, the gentle tug of fingers in his hair, the electric anticipation that flowed through his veins - it all felt like a dream now, fading with each step they took.

As they reached the base of the tower, Remus was exhausted, his leg felt like pins had been stabbed into his skin.

"I think I'll head back to the dorm," Remus said through labored breaths.

Sirius stepped closer, his presence a warmth in the cool night air. "No, you won't. We're going to the pub, Moony."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius continued, "I warned you that I wasn’t going to let you off that easy.”

“Right, well I will have to stop by my room first.” He knew he would need his pain medication if he had any chance of making it across campus and then down the road.

A cheeky smirk spread across Sirius’ face. “What, are you going to change into a different knitted jumper?”

“Hilarious, truly, you are a master of comedy,” Remus said flatly, but the way his lips twitched up gave him away. “It’s on the way anyway.”

They set off across the moonlit grounds, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. As they approached the dormitory, Remus was trying to find a way to take his meds without Sirius noticing.

“Do you need anything from your room? You can go up and we can meet out front.” Remus tried.

“Nope, I’ve got everything I need,” Sirius said as they entered the building.

Remus sighed inwardly, realizing he'd have to be more discreet. Once they reached his door he tried a different approach.

"I'll just be a moment," Remus said, fumbling with his key. "You can wait out here if you'd like."

But Sirius followed him in, collapsing dramatically onto Remus' neatly made bed. "I'm quite comfortable here, thanks."

“Right, I’m just going to go to the restroom.” He shut the door and opened the cabinet. With practiced nonchalance, he palmed two pills from a small bottle, quickly dry-swallowing.

He walked back out into his small living space, grabbing a worn cardigan from his closet. As he slipped it on, he caught Sirius watching him, a softness in his grey eyes that made Remus' insides feel gooey.

“You know, it is a little cold out tonight. Think I could borrow a jumper?” Sirius asked biting his lip.

Remus hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting between Sirius and his closet. The thought of Sirius wearing his clothes sent a thrill through him, but he quickly pushed it aside.

"I suppose," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He turned back to the closet, rifling through the neatly folded stacks until he found a soft, navy blue sweater. "This shouldn’t be too big on you."

Sirius stood, reaching for the offered garment. Their fingers brushed as he took it, and Remus felt a jolt of electricity at the contact. He watched, transfixed, as Sirius pulled the sweater over his head. It was definitely too big, the sleeves falling past his wrists and fabric hanging loosely from his body, but somehow it suited him perfectly.

"How do I look?" Sirius asked, a playful grin on his face as he struck an exaggerated pose.

Remus swallowed hard, his eyes tracing the way the oversized sweater draped over Sirius' frame. "It's... It looks good," he managed, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

Sirius' grin widened, a knowing glint in his eye. "Just good? I think I look rather dashing if I do say so myself." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it artfully.

Remus turned away, busying himself with gathering his wallet and keys. "We should get going," he said, desperate to change the subject. "The others will be wondering where we are."

As they made their way out of the dormitory and across the campus grounds, Remus couldn't help but watch Sirius the whole way to the pub. The sight of him in his clothes stirred something deep in his gut.

When they reached the door to Three Broomsticks, Sirius had to wiggle his hand free from where it had been concealed under the jumper to grasp the brass door handle. The pub was alive with energy, the sound of conversations weaving through the air. Remus followed close behind Sirius, his cane tapping softly against the worn floorboards.

Near the back at a large table, they found the familiar faces of James, Lily, and Peter, along with two faces that Remus didn’t recognize. As they settled into the last two open seats, a loud voice came from the other side of the table.

“Remus?!”

He looked at the girl who called his name, realizing that he knew her. She had untidy blonde waves, sharp features, dark eyeliner, and a black choker adorning her neck. She looked completely different from the girl he had encountered on the train platform, yet it was unmistakably her.

“Marlene,” he said eyes a bit wide in surprise. “I didn’t realize it was you when I walked in.”

“Dress a bit differently around my mum. She doesn’t really care for…well my look.” Marlene gestured a hand around her face and clothes as a way of explanation.

“It suits you,” Remus replied in support.

“It’s so nice to see you again!” Marlene beamed at Remus, her dark-lined eyes crinkling at the corners. It was clear that while her appearance had changed, her friendly disposition had not. "I was hoping I'd run into you again. How have your first few weeks been?"

Before Remus could respond, Sirius leaned in, his arm brushing against Remus' as he addressed Marlene. "How do you two know each other?" There was a hint of something possessive in his voice.

"Oh, we met on the train platform," Remus explained, acutely aware of Sirius' proximity. "Marlene’s mum gave me a ride from the station."

"Ah, I see," Sirius replied, his tone carefully neutral.

As the conversation lulled, Lily cleared her throat, drawing attention. "Remus, I don't believe you've met Mary yet, have you?" She gestured to the girl sitting beside her. Mary had shoulder-length curly brown hair that framed her face in loose ringlets, catching the golden light of the pub and giving her an almost ethereal glow. Her eyes were a warm, rich brown, reminding Remus of freshly brewed tea, and her skin was a beautiful deep brown.

“Nice to meet you,” Remus said offering a small wave from across the table.

"Likewise," Mary replied with a wave of her own.

James, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly leaned forward. "So, Remus, how was your unexpected library shift?" There was a hint of challenge in his voice, and Remus knew he'd been caught out.

Sirius smoothly interjected before Remus could formulate a response, "Oh, it was dreadfully boring, wasn't it, Moony? All those books to re-shelve because some incompetent wanker doesn’t know how to do it properly.

He nodded in agreement, forcing a small smile. "Right, absolutely dreadful. I'll be glad when Avery learns how to properly organize the Dewey Decimal System."

James raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced, but he let the matter drop. "Well, I'm glad you could join us anyway. Now that you lads are here we can continue discussing what we should do for Sirius' birthday next month."

As the table launched into an animated discussion about various ideas, Remus leaned in close to Sirius’ ear catching the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the familiar smell of his own sweater. “Thank you for covering for me.”

Sirius turned his head slightly, his lips nearly brushing Remus' ear as he whispered back, "Anytime, Moony."

The conversation flowed freely, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses. While Mary, Marlene, and Lily regaled the table with a story about their disastrous attempt at baking for a charity event, Remus felt like he was floating. The warmth of the pub, the buzz of alcohol and pain meds in his system, and the comforting presence of Sirius beside him all combined to create a hazy, dreamlike state.

He was vaguely aware of the others laughing, of James' arm slung casually around Lily's shoulders, of Peter's eager interjections. But his focus kept returning to Sirius - to the way one strand of hair kept falling in his face, to the rich timbre of his laugh, and the way they kept casually scooting a little closer.

The chatter was dizzying and Remus couldn't quite keep up. He caught snippets of conversation here and there, but mostly he was lost in his thoughts. By the time the group decided to head back to the dorm, he was a bit unsteady on his feet. Wordlessly, Sirius took Remus’ free arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. They managed like that all the way back to Gryffindor Hall. Lily, Marlene, and Mary bid their goodnights before slipping off to the girl’s wing. James and Peter lingered for a moment before peeling away toward the common room for a game of chess. Sirius helped Remus to his room, arm tucked around his waist for support.

"Here we are," Sirius said when they reached room 104. "Can you manage your key?"

Remus nodded, reluctantly disentangling himself from Sirius. He dug in his pocket, located the key, and opened the door. Together, they stepped into the room. Remus turned on the lamp before sitting on his bed. Sirius moved to stand in front of him, a fond look on his face.

"I suppose I should return this," he said, gesturing to the navy blue jumper he was still wearing.

Remus' breath caught in his throat as Sirius reached for the hem of the sweater. With one fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and handed it to Remus.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it, I quite liked it. Might have to knick your clothes more often."

Remus nodded absentmindedly, running through mental images of Sirius in every single one of his jumpers. He knew he should say something, but he was at a loss for words.

Sirius smirked like he could read Remus’ mind, “I’ll let you get some rest. See you soon, Moons.” With that Remus watched him walk out. He removed the layers he was wearing and tugged on the navy blue jumper before turning out the lamp and falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Droplets from the afternoon storm clung to Sirius. His sodden clothes hung heavy on his lean frame, a testament to the tempestuous weather that had overtaken the London sky. Water pooled at his feet as he knocked rhythmically against the wooden door of room 104. He could barely hear the voice answering over the sky’s rumbling.

Sirius was surprised when he walked in to find James, lounging on his bed with a textbook splayed across his lap, looking up at his bedraggled friend with amusement.

"Need me to grab a towel for you?" James offered.

Sirius shook his head, droplets flying from his shaggy hair like a dog shaking off after a swim. A mischievous glint sparked in his storm-gray eyes as he surveyed James' dry, cozy state.

"No need," Sirius drawled, his voice a low rumble that echoed the fading thunder outside. "I've got a better idea."

With the fluid grace of a predator, Sirius stalked across the room, leaving a trail of watery footprints on the floor. James, still engrossed in his textbook, failed to notice the impending danger until it was too late.

In one swift motion, Sirius launched himself onto the bed, his waterlogged form colliding with James' unsuspecting body.

James let out a startled yelp as the cold, damp weight of Sirius crashed into him. The textbook tumbled from his lap, pages fluttering like startled birds before settling on the floor. For a moment, the two friends were a tangle of limbs and laughter, the bed sheets quickly absorbing the rainwater from Sirius' clothes.

"You absolute git!" James exclaimed, his voice somewhere between annoyance and delight. He attempted to push Sirius off, but his friend clung to him like a limpet, grinning wickedly.

Sirius merely chuckled, a low, rich sound that reverberated through both their bodies. His eyes danced with mirth as he observed James' futile attempts to escape. "Come now, Prongs," he teased, "surely you wouldn't deny your best mate a bit of warmth on such a dreary day?"

James' protests gradually subsided, his initial shock giving way to resignment. He sighed, a sound that carried both exasperation and fondness, as he relaxed into the damp embrace. The rain continued its steady patter against the window, creating a soothing backdrop to Sirius’ antics.

“So Pads,” James started as Sirius' wet clothes slowly transferred their dampness to his, “what brings you here?”

“The real question is, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at footie practice?”

"Practice was rained out," James explained, "Coach said the pitch looked more like a lake than a field."

Sirius hummed in acknowledgment, his wet hair leaving dark splotches on James' pillow.

Unwilling to let his question go unanswered, James tried again. “If you thought I’d be at practice, what are you doing here?”

Sirius hesitated, his usual quick wit momentarily faltering.

James raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by his friend's uncharacteristic pause, genuine interest evident in his face.

"Well, if you must know," Sirius began, "I thought Remus might be here." He paused, fingers idly tracing patterns on the damp fabric beneath him. "Wanted to see if he fancied listening to some music."

James' eyebrows arched higher, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He studied Sirius' face, noting the faint flush creeping across his cheekbones, barely discernible from the lingering chill of the rain.

"Music, eh?" James prodded gently, his tone light but laced with curiosity. "Funny, that. Here I was thinking that the last time I showed up to find you here with Remus it had been a fluke. Seems like you have been finding ways to spend time with him by yourself."

Sirius' eyes flickered away, focusing on a distant point beyond the rain-streaked glass. "Have I?"

James let out a sigh and shook his head. "Come off it, Padfoot," he said with an eye roll. "I highly doubt Remus had to cover at the library. Somehow you knew where to find him and convinced him to join us at the pub. And don't think I didn't notice you calling him 'Moony' now. Not to mention the fact that you were wearing his jumper. I've tried to get some answers out of him, but it's Remus we're talking about here. So, I'm asking you directly. What exactly is happening between the two of you?"

"I don't know, James," Sirius let out a groan. "I really don't know." He ran a hand through his damp hair, a gesture of frustration. "It's like... it's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Every time I think I've got a grasp on what's happening between us, it slips away. It’s just so hard to know what’s going on in his head."

James snorted “Sounds a bit like the pot calling the kettle black to me.”

“Oi, what’s that s’posed to mean?” Sirius said affronted. “People tell me all the time how I wear my emotions on my sleeve.”

"Pads,” James started, softening his tone, “how long did it take you to tell me about what was going on with your family?”

Sirius' expression immediately turned somber as he remembered the many years he had kept the abuse and neglect from his closest friend. He had always tried to keep things light, to not allow the darkness of his family home to penetrate any other part of his life.

"Look mate," James continued, “I’m not saying it’s a lost cause. I’m only trying to say that I think some bad things have happened to him too. He might just need some time to sort out his feelings.”

"You're right. I know you're right." He exhaled a heavy sigh. "It's just... Remus has this pull to him and I can’t help but to be pulled in by it."

"I see the way he looks at you too, you know," James said gently. "When he thinks no one's watching. It's like you're the only person in the room.” He tilted his head to the side as if considering something before continuing. “Though, I will say he wasn’t as obvious as you when Lily introduced him to Mary. I think she was hoping to set them up actually."

“She what?!” Sirius exploded.

James laughed at Sirius' reaction. "Yeah, she thought they would hit it off. I think Lily was hoping they could double date with us."

Sirius scoffed indignantly. “And suddenly I’m not good enough to accompany you two on a double date? Saboteur.” He crossed his arms and huffed a hair out of his face.

The laughter from James only increased at the petulance, “Well, I don’t think she had any idea about you and Remus, so maybe give her the benefit of the doubt.”

Bravado deflating, Sirius replied, “Only for you, Prongs.” He gave James a small shove before continuing, “It's just that I've never felt this way before…with anyone. And I don’t know what to do."

“Maybe it's about creating moments. Small, safe spaces where he can let his guard down." James suggested, giving Sirius a pat on the back.

A light ignited behind Sirius’ eyes as he popped up from the bed. “You’re right, Prongs.” He leaned over and gave an exaggerated kiss to James’ cheek. “I’ve gotta go change out of these clothes. But, um, thank you for this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on you tosser. I’m going to have to change my bedsheets now.” James said sticking out his tongue.

Sirius bounded out of James' room, his wet clothes still clinging to his skin but his spirits lifted. His squelching footsteps echoed as he made his way down the corridor and up the stairs. The rain outside had softened to a gentle patter, and through the arched windows, he could see the storm clouds beginning to part, revealing patches of dusky purple sky.

Reaching his own room, Sirius quickly shed his damp attire, leaving a trail of wet garments from the door to his wardrobe. He ran a towel through his hair, the dark locks curling at the bottom as they dried. His mind was running through the list of places he might find Remus, but as the sky grew darker, he knew exactly where to go.

He climbed the winding stone staircase to the astronomy tower, his footsteps light. The air grew cooler as he ascended, carrying the crisp scent of night and the lingering petrichor from the afternoon's rain. He paused when he reached the top, his hand resting on the door handle. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open.

The night sky sprawled above him, a vast canvas of black punctuated by pinpricks of starlight. The storm clouds had fully dissipated, leaving behind a clear, breathtaking expanse. The moon hung low on the horizon, casting a soft, silvery glow over the tower's circular platform.

And there, just as Sirius had hoped, sat Remus.

His head was tilted back, his gaze fixed on the sky. The moonlight caressed his features, softening the lines of worry that often creased his brow, giving him an angelic look.

Sirius hesitated for a moment, drinking in the sight before him. Remus seemed so at peace, so beautifully vulnerable in this private moment. He felt almost guilty for intruding, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you planning to join me?" Remus' voice broke through Sirius' reverie.

A smile tugged at his lips as he stepped fully into the room. "How did you know it was me?" he asked, moving to sit beside Remus.

"I always know when it's you," Remus replied softly. “Can feel it somehow.”

Sirius swallowed hard at these words. “Almost like this pulling feeling, right? Like there is some invisible string.”

Remus turned to make eye contact. A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips as he considered Sirius' words. "Yes," he said in a hushed tone, "something like that."

For a moment, they sat in silence, shoulders barely touching. The crisp night air brushed against their skin, bearing a refreshing fragrance of damp stone freshly cleansed by rain and the distant earthy tones of evergreens.

Sirius' heart quickened as he felt Remus shuffled closer, their shoulders now fully pressed together. The warmth of the contact seemed to spread through his entire body. He turned his head slightly, studying Remus' profile in the moonlight.

"I missed you today," Sirius murmured, feeling embarrassed by the confession.

Remus' eyes flickered to meet his. "Did you?" he asked.

Sirius nodded, feeling a sudden vulnerability in the admission. "I went looking for you, actually. Ended up soaking James instead."

A punch of laughter escaped Remus' lips, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down Sirius' spine. "Poor James," he said, amusement coloring his voice.

Sirius chuckled softly, "He'll survive. Though he might need to change his bed sheets anyway."

Remus shook his head, a fond smile settling on his face. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," he replied with a wink.

After a few beats of silence, Remus asked, "Why were you looking for me?"

Sirius hesitated, feeling his insides coiling. But then, he thought about James' words, about creating moments and safe spaces. Taking a deep breath, he decided to be honest.

"I wanted to see you," he admitted.

Remus' eyes widened a fraction at the candid admission. But then, he hunched his body to lean his head on Sirius’ shoulder and said, "I'm glad you found me."

Sirius felt his breath catch in his throat. He longed to wrap his arm around Remus, to pull him closer, but he refrained, not wanting to jeopardize the moment. Instead, he tilted his head back, mirroring Remus' earlier pose.

"Will you tell me the story of your star?"

Sirius felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest at Remus' request. He shifted, careful not to dislodge Remus' head from his shoulder as he started his explanation. “Sirius—my star—is the Dog Star, the brightest one in the constellation Canis Major. According to Greek mythology, it’s named after the dog of Orion, the hunter. And in their myth, it’s said that the dog, after being loyal to his master for so long, followed him into the sky as a tribute to his undying loyalty.” Sirius was suddenly amused, having not given much thought to the story since he was a child. “Bit ironic seeing as my father’s name is Orion and I’m about the furthest thing from loyal to that twat.”

Remus angled his head so his mouth was centimeters from Sirius’ neck. "Perhaps it's not about loyalty to Orion," he mused, his voice a low murmur. "Maybe it's about the loyalty of the dog itself - steadfast, unwavering, regardless of who it's directed towards."

Sirius could feel the warm breath on his skin, causing his brain to short-circuit momentarily. He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing against Remus' hair. The scent of old books, chocolate, and something uniquely Remus filled his senses.

"And how do you see me, Moony?"

Remus fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "You shine so brightly. Maybe even the brightest of us all. Sometimes I think you don't even realize how much light you bring into the lives of those around you."

His heart swelled at the words, a lump forming in his throat. "Moony, I..." he trailed off, overwhelmed by the emotion threatening to spill over. “Thank you for saying that,” he managed.

Remus hummed softly in response.

They sat together, enjoying the effortless flow of their conversation. It started with their classes—the ones they looked forward to and the ones they dreaded. From there, they moved on to music, both sharing their hope to attend a live show and experience the music in person. The conversation continued to strange dreams, with Remus recounting his recent one where he worked at the library, but instead of books, the shelves were filled with rubber ducks that burst into song when picked up. Each topic naturally flowed into the next, as if they were simply following the rhythm of the conversation.

Gradually, Remus' breath steadied, his body going lax against Sirius' side. Sirius adjusted himself to find a comfortable position without disturbing the delicate peace between them.

It wasn’t until he felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Remus' breath against his neck that Sirius realized he had fallen asleep. He held him in quiet stillness, letting the moment stretch out as if time itself had slowed and the world beyond the tower walls had gently faded away.

Sirius remained motionless, savoring the weight of Remus against him. Despite the dropping temperature, he felt warmed from within, a gentle heat radiating from every point where their bodies touched. He gazed down at Remus' sleeping form, marveling at how serene he looked, the usual lines of worry smoothed away in slumber.

As the hour crept by, Sirius found himself fighting against his own drowsiness. He knew they couldn't stay here all night. With great reluctance, he gently scratched at Remus' scalp. A soft noise of pleasure escaped from his lips at the touch and Sirius wanted to bottle it.

"Moony," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "We should head back."

Remus unconsciously nestled into the embrace, his face burrowing into the crook of Sirius' neck.

A swarm of butterflies took up residence in Sirius’ stomach at Remus' sleepy display of affection. He allowed himself a moment to savor the feeling before running his fingers through Remus’ hair again.

"Moons," he tried again, his voice a little louder this time, "we need to go back to our rooms."

Remus stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. For a moment, confusion clouded his eyes as he took in his surroundings. Then, as realization dawned, a blush crept across his cheeks so fierce that even in the dark Sirius could see it.

"Oh," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—How long was I asleep?"

"Not too long," Sirius replied, begrudging pulling away to stand. He extended a hand to Remus, who took it gratefully, allowing Sirius to pull him to his feet.

Their hands remained clasped for longer than necessary, but neither of them seemed to mind. When they finally parted, the loss of contact left Sirius feeling strangely bereft.

They made their way down the winding staircase in companionable silence. The grounds were quiet in the late hour and Sirius found himself slowing his pace. Remus matched his stride, apparently in no hurry either.

As they approached the staircase where their paths would diverge in Gryffindor Hall, Sirius felt the urge to prolong their time together.

“Moony,” Sirius said, pausing to lean against the wall, “I had a nice time with you tonight.”

Remus stopped too, turning fully toward him. Without thinking, Sirius hooked a finger in the collar of Remus’ jumper and pulled him closer until they were breathing each other’s air.

“Look,” Sirius continued, voice low, “I know big groups aren’t exactly your thing, but I’d really like for you to come to my birthday party.”

Remus leaned in and gently brushed the bridge of his nose along Sirius’ jaw until he reached his ear. The grip Sirius had on the jumper tightened involuntarily.

“If you want me there,” Remus murmured, his voice a low purr, “I’ll be there.” He pulled back just enough to meet Sirius’ gaze. “No excuses this time, promise.”

Sirius felt like his insides were about to combust. They stood there, bodies still close, neither willing to break the fragile intimacy that seemed to hang in the air. Eventually, Remus used his cane to take a small step back, and Sirius immediately felt the loss of warmth between them, a quiet ache rising in his chest.

“We–,” Remus cleared his throat, “we should probably go to bed.”

Sirius nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady. He watched as Remus took another step back, the space between them widening, their eyes still locked. Just as Remus was about to turn away, he found his voice.

“Sweet dreams, Moony,” he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Remus' lips. “Goodnight, Sirius,” he replied, before finally turning and making his way down the corridor.

Chapter Text

Remus

The shadows of night slowly retreated as dawn's pale fingers crept through the leaded windows of Gryffindor Hall. Remus tossed and turned in his four-poster bed, the sheets tangled around his legs like grasping tendrils. His brow furrowed deeply, eyes darting rapidly beneath closed lids as he was held captive by the cruel machinations of his subconscious.

In the realm of his nightmare, Remus found himself once again a small, frightened child, cowering before the towering figure of his father. Lyall Lupin's face, twisted into a mask of disgust and revulsion as he regarded his son.

The spectral visage of Lyall loomed larger, his voice a thunderous growl that ricocheted through Remus's bones. "Abomination," he spat, the word a dagger that pierced Remus's heart. "You're no son of mine."

Remus shrank back, his small frame trembling as his father's shadow engulfed him. The air grew thick, and oppressive, as if the very atmosphere conspired against him. Lyall's hand, calloused and rough, raised high above his head, a harbinger of the pain to come. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity as Remus watched, helpless, paralyzed by fear.

The first blow landed with a sickening crack, reverberating through Remus's skull. Stars exploded behind his eyes, a galaxy of agony blooming across his vision. He tasted copper, felt warmth trickle down his chin. His father's ring had split his lip, a physical manifestation of the emotional wounds being inflicted.

“Please, stop! Please! Please! Stop!” Remus screamed, his vocal cords feeling like they were being ripped to shreds.

"Disgusting," Lyall snarled as he hit Remus again and again.

"Remus! Remus!" A voice echoed through the cacophony of his nightmare, distant at first, like a whisper carried on a restless wind. It grew stronger, more insistent, piercing through the veil of terror that enshrouded him. Briefly, Remus thought it was his mother, coming to rescue him from his father's wrath. But no, the timbre was wrong, too deep, too masculine.

The dreamscape began to fracture, reality seeping through the cracks of morning mist. The looming figure of his father wavered, becoming insubstantial, a specter dissolving in the light of day.

"Remus, wake up!” the voice called again. He could feel hands around his shoulders shaking him in time with the words.

Remus' eyes snapped open, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he sat up in bed. He was drenched in sweat, his heart racing with the remnants of fear from his nightmare. It took him a minute to register that he was safe, that he was no longer a helpless child at the mercy of his father's wrath.

James's brow wrinkled as he studied Remus's face. The usual mischievousness was replaced by a somber gravity that seemed out of place on his normally carefree appearance. His wild hair stood on end as if he had rushed from his own bed in haste to Remus's aid.

"Bloody hell," James breathed, his hands trembling slightly as he still gripped Remus's shoulders. "Are you alright?"

Remus blinked, his vision still blurry with the remnants of sleep and unshed tears. The concern in James's eyes was almost too much to bear, a stark reminder of the vulnerability he had just unwittingly displayed. He swallowed hard, his throat sore from screaming, and attempted to compose himself.

"I'm... fine," Remus managed to croak, his voice hoarse. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, as acrid as the lingering fear that clung to him like a second skin. He could still feel the phantom pain of his father's blows, could still hear the words rattling in his mind.

James's grip on his shoulders loosened, but the worry didn't leave his face. "That was more than just a bad dream, mate. You were screaming bloody murder."

Shame washed over Remus like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its depths. He averted his gaze, unable to meet James's eyes. The worry woven in his friend's face was a mirror reflecting his own weakness, a testament to the demons he had failed to keep at bay. He ran an unsteady hand through his sweat-dampened hair, buying time as he struggled to find words.

"It's nothing," Remus mumbled, his fingers still trembling. "Just... old memories."

James opened his mouth as if to press further, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he released Remus's shoulders and sat back on the edge of the bed. The early morning light filtering through the dormitory windows accentuated the lines of worry etched in James’ features.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" James said tenderly, "about anything."

Remus nodded, unable to find his voice. The weight of James's words hung heavy in the air between them, a bridge of understanding that Remus was too afraid to cross. He knew that James meant well, that his offer was genuine, but the thought of exposing the depths of his pain, of laying bare the scars that marred not just his body but his soul, made the bile rise in his stomach.

The silence stretched between them. It was a tribute to their growing friendship that James didn't push, didn't demand answers that Remus wasn't ready to give.

Slowly, the tension began to ebb from Remus's body, his muscles unclenching as the adrenaline of his nightmare faded. The room came into sharper focus, the familiar surroundings of the Gryffindor dormitory grounding him in the present. The gentle rustling of leaves outside the window, the faint scent of old books and tea that permeated the air all served as anchors, tethering him to reality.

James shifted slightly, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. The movement seemed to break the spell of silence that had fallen over them. He cleared his throat "Listen, mate, I won't pretend to understand what you're going through.” he began, his voice earnest, "and I know you're not ready to talk about it—which is okay. But I want you to know that when you are ready, I'm here."

Remus felt a lump forming, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. James's unwavering support and quiet acceptance were a balm to Remus's battered soul.

A small smile tugged at the corners of James’ mouth. It wasn't his usual broad grin, but something softer, more understanding. He reached out and gave Remus's shoulder a gentle squeeze, the gesture speaking volumes where words failed.

"Why don't you get cleaned up?" James suggested. "I'll wait for you in the common room, and we can head down to breakfast together."

As he moved towards the door, Remus felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to say something more. "James," he called out, his voice still rough but steadier now. James turned, eyebrows raised in question. "I... I appreciate it. Really." He deflated a little, knowing that the words were inadequate.

James's smile widened slightly, a glimmer of his usual brightness returning to his face. "Anytime, mate," he replied softly before slipping out of the dormitory, leaving Remus alone with his thoughts.

For a long moment, Remus sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the door through which James had disappeared. He let James’ kindness settle over him like a comforting blanket, at once reassuring and overwhelming. It was a stark contrast to the cold indifference he had grown accustomed to, a reminder that perhaps he wasn't as alone as he had always believed.

Steeling himself, Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as his bare feet made contact with the cold floor. He stood slowly, his muscles aching from tensing them all night. His eyes fell upon the simple wooden cane propped against his bedside table, its gold handle catching the sun's rays through the window. It was a physical manifestation of his father's presence, a constant companion that Remus both relied on and resented.

He reached out, his hand hovering mere centimeters from the smooth wood. With a burst of rage, Remus picked it up and threw it with all the force he could muster. The cane clattered against the wall, the sound echoing through the empty room like a hollow laugh. Remus stared at it, he felt a perverse satisfaction in the act of defiance, but it was quickly replaced by self-loathing. He knew he would need it, knew the pain would come creeping back like an unwelcome guest, but for now, he reveled in this small rebellion.

With a resigned sigh, Remus turned away from the fallen cane and limped toward the bathroom. Each step sent a stabbing sensation through his leg. He approached the mirror above the sink, and the face that stared back was a pallid reflection of his usual self, dark circles underlining his brown eyes—evidence of his restless night. His hair was tangled, and a faint sheen of sweat still clung to his brow.

Remus splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash away the remnants of his nightmare. With practiced movements, he began his morning routine. He brushed his teeth, tamed his hair, and pulled on fresh clothes, each action a small step towards normalcy. As he reached for his medication, he caught sight of his reflection once more. The boy in the mirror looked composed, put-together, a far cry from the quivering wreck he had been mere minutes ago. It was a mask, he knew that, but it would do for now. Carefully, he extracted three pills from the bottle and swallowed them with a small twist of spite in his gut.

With a deep breath, he turned away from the mirror, his gaze falling once more on the discarded cane. The earlier outburst made him feel a bit childish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Slowly, he made his way across the room, each step a careful negotiation between pride and necessity. He bent down, wincing as his muscles protested, and retrieved the cane. Its familiar weight in his hand was both a comfort and a curse. Remus considered it before depositing it on his bed and leaving the room.

Breakfast helped settle Remus's stomach after taking his medication on an empty one, but his four-spread toast felt like ash in his mouth. James sat across him, casting furtive glances his way, but mercifully refrained from asking further questions instead he just chatted idly about one of his classes.

“Sirius and Peter should be here soon. I know you have a later start today. Feel like sticking ‘round before class?” James asked.

“Think I’m going to bunk off class today. Probably just gonna head back to the room.” Remus said picking at his remaining food. “Mind if I borrow your vinyl player?”

James leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Are you sure you're alright to be alone? I could skip with you, keep you company."

Remus felt a surge of warmth at James's offer, but he shook his head. "I'll be fine. I just need some time to... decompress." He managed a smile, hoping to assuage his friend's worries.

James nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced but didn’t push the matter. "Alright, mate. The player's all yours. Just... take care of yourself, yeah?"

"I will," Remus promised, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.

As he made his way back to the dormitory, Remus felt the emotions of the morning catching up with him. Saltwater filled his eyes and his breathing was growing heavy. By the time he reached his room, his chest was heaving with suppressed emotion. The moment the door closed behind him, he leaned against it, letting out a shuddering breath. The tears that had threatened to fall during his walk back now flowed freely, hot trails of salt marking his cheeks.

He made his way to James's side of the room, his steps unsteady without his cane. The vinyl player sat on the desk, a stack of records beside it. Remus's fingers shook as he flipped through the albums, finally settling on one that seemed to match his mood.

As the first notes of Pink Moon filled the room, Remus sank onto his bed. He lay there, body curling in on itself, letting the music envelop him like a cocoon. The haunting melody seemed to give voice to the hurt swirling within him, a catharsis of sound that both soothed and amplified his suffering.

Remus clutched at his pillow, knuckles turning white as he pressed his face into its softness. The first scream erupted from his throat, muffled by the pillow but no less powerful. It was a primal sound, filled with years of pent-up anguish and rage. The scream tore through him like a hurricane, shaking his entire body with its force. His lungs burned, desperate for air, but he couldn't stop. He screamed until his throat was raw, until the pillow was damp with tears and saliva. He screamed for the child he had been, cowering before his father's wrath. He screamed for the man he was becoming, forever marked by his past. He screamed until there was nothing left, until his voice gave out and all that remained were hoarse, choked sobs.

—-

Sirius

Not long after Remus disappeared from the table, Sirius strolled up to the table, Peter at his heels.

"James!" Sirius exclaimed, setting his plate on the table. “Dining alone this morning, are we?”

James glanced up at Sirius, his usual jovial demeanor subdued. "Remus was here earlier," he said, pushing his half-eaten breakfast around his plate. "He's gone back to the room. Not feeling well."

Sirius scanned James's face. "Is he alright?" he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

James hesitated, weighing his words carefully. He knew Remus valued his privacy, but the haunted look in Remus’ eyes this morning had shaken him. "He had a rough night," James finally said.

Peter, who had been quietly nibbling a sausage, looked up. "That’s too bad," he murmured. "Is he ill?"

“No, I think he is working through something. Needed some rest.” James replied, trying not to give anything away.

"What do you mean?" Sirius pressed, his tone growing more intense.

James gave him a meaningful look. “I don’t think it’s really my place to say.”

The rhythmic tapping of Sirius's fingers on the table filled the momentary awkwardness that had settled. "Right," he said, his voice measured. "And you're sure he's alright on his own?"

James ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, a habit that betrayed his unease. "He said he wanted some time alone. I offered to stay with him, but..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Sirius nodded, his jaw clenching slightly. He picked up his muffin but didn't eat it, instead tearing it into small pieces. "Maybe I should check on him," he mused, more to himself than to the others.

Peter piped up, "Do you think that's a good idea? If he said he wanted to be alone..."

Sirius shot Peter a look that silenced him mid-sentence. "I'm not going to barge in," he snapped, his tone defensive. "I just... I want to make sure he's okay."

James studied Sirius, watching the way he continued to shred the muffin into increasingly smaller pieces. There was something in Sirius's demeanor that gave James pause.

"Look," James said, "I know you mean well, but Remus... he's dealing with something pretty heavy. I think we need to respect his wishes and give him space."

Sirius's fingers stilled, the remnants of his muffin scattered across his plate like crumbs of discontent. He stared at the mess he'd made thinking about his need to get to Remus.

"Fine," he muttered, reaching for his fork and stabbing at his eggs with unnecessary force. He just needed to bide his time until he could slip away unnoticed.

The minutes crawled by, each tick of the clock on the wall feeling like an eternity. Sirius's leg bounced restlessly under the table, his fingers returning to drumming an erratic rhythm. He caught James watching him, but Sirius ignored it, focusing instead on the intricate patterns of his half-empty plate.

Finally, he pushed himself up from the table with the excuse of class and set off in the direction of the dorm. He sprinted across the grounds. His heart raced, not from exertion, but from the thought of James' words that lingered in his mind. He paused at the door, his hand resting on the cool metal of the handle as the sound of music drifted from the room.

Gently he pushed the door open, wincing at the slight creak of the hinges. The room was dim, curtains drawn against the morning light. It took a second for Sirius's vision to adjust, but when it did, he saw Remus curled up on his bed, back to the door.

Sirius stood there, suddenly unsure. The vulnerability in Remus's posture, the way his shoulders shook as he cried. But then, wordlessly, he saw Remus extend one hand out. Without thinking he crossed the room and interlaced his fingers with Remus's, feeling the slight tremor that ran through the other boy's body. Keeping a firm hold on the hand in his, Sirius eased himself onto the bed, carefully curling against Remus’ back, making sure not to jostle his leg.

The vinyl player spun softly in the corner, its melancholic melody weaving through the air. Remus didn't turn to face Sirius, but his grip on his hand tightened. They lay there in silence, the rise and fall of their breaths slowly synchronizing. He felt the tension in Remus’ muscles begin to unwind like a tightly coiled spring finally allowed to relax.

Sirius had the thought that this might be the most pure version of Remus anyone had ever seen. It broke his heart, yet he also felt they were kindred spirits in some twisted way. At this moment, he understood precisely what James meant when he said they were alike. He often struggled to hide his emotions, but they usually manifested as sarcastic remarks. He never allowed anyone, not even James, to witness the side of himself that was on display right in front of him.

"What if," Remus started, voice barely audible. "my father was right."

Sirius’ thumb traced soothing circles on Remus’ skin. "Right about what," he murmured.

"That I'm..." Remus's voice cracked, thick with emotion. "That I'm disgusting, unnatural…depraved."

Sirius felt as though he'd been struck. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and poisonous. His mind was transported back to Grimmauld Place, his mother's shrill voice howling through the halls, hurling those same vicious words at him. The pain in Remus's voice was achingly familiar.

"No," Sirius whispered fiercely, shaking his head. "No, Remus. You're not... you're none of those things." He swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in his throat. "Your father... he's wrong. So fucking wrong. I know what it’s like when the people who are supposed to love you feed you hate. It’s like they rip out everything and only leave a shell. All those things he said to you come from a place of fear. They fear it because they can’t understand it. They only understand control. You are enough. You have always been enough." He pressed a tender kiss to the nape of Remus’ neck.

"He did this to me." The words sounded like a small child confessing. "He... he's the reason I need the cane. The reason I'm..." Remus's voice trailed off, choked with emotion.

Sirius felt a surge of anger, white-hot and all-consuming. He wanted to find Remus's father, to make him pay for the pain he'd inflicted. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the trembling form beside him.

"You're not broken, Remus," Sirius murmured, his voice low and fierce. "You're strong. He tightened his arms around Remus as if he could shield him from the world's cruelty. "What happened to you... it wasn't your fault. You didn't deserve it."

Remus didn’t say anything, but Sirius felt the slight shake of his shoulders and heard the muffled sobs that Remus tried to stifle. He could feel his own eyes burning with unshed tears. He wished he could take away Remus's pain, and absorb it into himself, but he knew he couldn't.

As Remus’ cries gradually subsided, Sirius felt him shift, turning his head just enough to see Remus’ face. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, a kaleidoscope of suffering.

"I'm glad you found me." The familiar words fell from Remus’ mouth, fragile like spun glass.

Sirius felt his heart constrict. He brought their intertwined hands to his lips and placed a small kiss on Remus’ skin. "I'll always find you," he murmured.

The intimacy of the moment was not lost on him, and he found himself marveling at how natural it felt to hold Remus like this.

Chapter Text

The dorm’s common room had been transformed into a lively celebration spot, still maintaining its charm but with an added sense of personal touch. The usual warmth of the stone walls was complemented by strings of fairy lights—simple but effective, twinkling in the dim corners like stars. The flames from the fire danced invitingly, as though they, too, were in on the night's events.

The couches and chairs, typically disheveled from months of student use, were now arranged a little more deliberately, forming a loose circle around the central coffee table, which was cluttered with various types of alcohol and cups. A large homemade birthday banner hung over the hearth, ’Happy Birthday, Sirius!’ scrawled across it brightly colored paper.

The table that usually served as a place for homework and group study was now piled with snacks—crisps, chocolates, a few bags of popcorn—and a small but carefully decorated cake, the icing slightly uneven, but clearly made with affection.

Pillows and blankets had been scattered on the floor near the fireplace for additional seating. Some of the more worn rugs had been pulled out to add a layer of comfort and color to the floor.

James stood at the doorway greeting people as they arrived, a cup of whiskey in his hand and an infectious smile plastered on his face. Peter was near the snacks, nibbling away at whatever he could get his hands on without being too noticeable. Remus lingered by the window with a book in one hand and a beer in the other. He had already downed three shots of whiskey in anticipation of the crowd currently filing into the room.

The energy grew as more students arrived, their voices rising and falling in a soundscape of excited chatter. Remus was feeling more and more out of place and desperately wanted to leave, but he promised Sirius—no excuses. He decided to just read his book until the birthday boy arrived. Then he could share a few drinks with him before making his exit. Simple. He could do this.

After several minutes of being engrossed in his text, a voice broke his concentration. “Excuse me, but I think you have the wrong place. This is a party, study session takes place in the library.”

Remus looked up to find Mary and Lily standing in front of him.

"I'll have you know," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, "that I'm multitasking. Expanding my mind while simultaneously testing my liver’s abilities."

Mary laughed, the sound bright, and Lily looked far too pleased.

"Well, perhaps you'd care to join us for a drink?” Mary asked.

Remus hesitated, his fingers tracing the worn edges of his book. The alcohol in his system battled with his inherent desire for solitude. But they were looking at him so expectantly and he had a difficult time declining.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," he said, closing his book with a soft thud and downing the rest of his beer. "Though I make no promises about my conversational skills."

They made their way through the ever-growing throng of people before arriving at the makeshift bar.

Lily handed him a plastic cup filled with an amber liquid that smelled suspiciously like more whisky. "Courtesy of James," she said holding the bottle aloft. "He's been saving it for a special occasion."

Remus took a long sip. He could feel the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, the alcohol working its magic.

The conversation flowed more easily than he'd anticipated, Mary's bright laughter and Lily's sharp wit drawing him out of his shell. He found himself relaxing, the book forgotten on the windowsill behind him.

Mary leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. "So, Remus, any idea what Sirius is planning for his grand entrance? You know he can't resist a bit of theatrics.”

As if on cue, the lights in the room flickered off, plunging the space into momentary darkness. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by excited murmurs. Suddenly the lights came back on to reveal Sirius standing on the sofa, arms lifted above his head like a true showman.

Sirius surveyed the room, a roguish grin playing on his lips. He wore a leather jacket that seemed to absorb the light around him, making him the focal point of the entire gathering.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice carrying over the sudden hush that had fallen over the room, "the party has officially begun!"

Everyone erupted in cheers and applause, and Sirius basked in the attention, bowing dramatically. James appeared at his side, clapping him on the back and handing him a drink as he stepped down from his perch.

“S’pose that answers your question,” Remus said turning his gaze back to Mary.

“Black has never been one to disappoint,” Mary chuckled, shaking her head slightly.

“You know him well then?” Remus asked.

“Known him for ages!” Mary took a drink from her cup before continuing, “We dated for a bit in high school, but we were in school together as kids too.”

Remus felt a sudden twinge of jealousy at Mary's words. He took another swig of his drink, letting the burn of the alcohol distract him from the sensation. "I see," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "And now?"

"Oh, we're just good friends now. Sirius and I... we work better that way." She glanced over at Sirius, who was now moving through the mass, greeting people with charm in full effect. "He's a force of nature, that one."

Lily, who had been observing the exchange with keen interest, interjected, "Speaking of Sirius, we should probably go wish him a happy birthday."

Remus nodded, allowing himself to be guided through the sea of bodies. The birthday boy was in his element, his charisma drawing people to him like moths to a flame. He was regaling a small group with a story of how he sweet-talked a professor into extending the deadline for an essay when he caught sight of the trio approaching and his face lit up. "Moony!" he exclaimed, "you made it!"

"I promised, didn't I?" Remus replied, it came out softer than he intended. He cleared his throat and added, "Happy birthday, Sirius."

"I'm glad you're here," Sirius said, his voice earnest. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Remus felt a warmth bloom in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Sirius was swept away by another group of well-wishers.

The party continued to swell around them, the music growing louder, the laughter more boisterous. Remus found himself back in conversation with Mary, nursing his drink and observing Sirius in constant motion, a whirlwind of energy. He flitted from group to group, his laughter ringing out above the music, his presence electrifying the room. Remus couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly Sirius commanded attention, how he seemed to shine brighter than anyone else.

Through the noise, Peter’s voice rang out, “Let’s play a game!”

The suggestion rippled through the crowd, eliciting a mix of excitement and groans. Sirius's eyes lit up at the prospect, a mischievous look spreading across his face. He clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.

"Brilliant idea, Pete! What shall it be?”

James stepped forward, a glint in his eye. "How about a good old-fashioned game of Truth or Dare."

Sirius waggled his eyebrows, "Truth or Dare, you say? Classic, Prongs."

Remus felt his stomach tighten. Drinking games were not his forte. He glanced around, hoping to find an inconspicuous exit, but Sirius caught his eye and beckoned him over.

"Come on, Moony," Sirius called, "you're not thinking of sneaking off, are you?"

Remus sighed, knowing he was trapped.

The partygoers began to form a large circle, shifting furniture and bodies to accommodate everyone. Remus found himself wedged between Mary and Peter, their bodies pressing against him in the small space.

Sirius, ever the host, took center stage in the middle of the circle. "Right then, you lot. We'll start with the birthday boy, shall we? Who wants to ask me first?"

James leaned forward, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Truth or dare, mate?"

Sirius answered immediately. "Dare, of course. Who do you think I am?"

James pretended to ponder for a moment, though Remus suspected he'd had a dare already thought up. "I dare you," James said with a dramatic pause, "to give a lap dance to the person of your choosing."

A chorus of whoops and whistles erupted from the onlookers. Sirius, never one to back down from a challenge, grinned widely. "Easy," he declared, his eyes scanning the circle.

Remus felt his pulse quicken as Sirius's gaze swept over him. He silently prayed that Sirius would choose someone else, anyone else. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Moony," Sirius purred, sauntering towards him with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Care to help a birthday boy out?"

The noise in the room grew louder as Remus felt his face flush crimson.

“Oh, no. I think you should pick someone else for that.” Remus protested.

"Come on, Moons," Sirius coaxed, "it's my birthday, after all."

Remus swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, waiting for him to oblige the request. Mary gave him a gentle nudge, and he found himself rising to his feet, his legs moving of their own accord.

Sirius sat Remus in a chair James had placed in the center of the circle. "Just relax," he whispered, his breath hot against Remus's ear. "And enjoy the show."

Remus sat rigid in the chair, his hands gripping the edges so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He could feel the heat radiating from Sirius's body as he moved closer, the scent of leather and cologne filling his senses.

Sirius circled him slowly, his hips swaying hypnotically with the music that someone had thoughtfully turned up. He ran his hands through his hair, tousling it in a way that made Remus feel flustered. With a wink, Sirius slowly shrugged off his leather jacket, tossing it to James.

The crowd cheered and called out encouragements, but to Remus, their voices seemed distant, muffled. His entire world had narrowed to Sirius - the way his muscles flexed beneath his tight t-shirt, the spark in his grey eyes as he locked gazes with Remus. Sirius moved closer, straddling Remus's good leg but not quite touching him. He rolled his hips in time with the music, his movements fluid and sensual.

Remus felt his heart hammering in his chest. He was acutely aware of every inch of space between them, charged with an electric tension that threatened to overwhelm him. Sirius leaned in, his lips barely brushing Remus's ear as he whispered, "Breathe, Moony."

With a sly smile, Sirius spun around, pressing his back against Remus's chest. He ground down, the friction eliciting a barely audible gasp from Remus. Sirius's head fell back onto Remus's shoulder, exposing the long line of his throat.

The room faded away as Remus's senses were overwhelmed by Sirius's proximity. The heat of his body, his intoxicating scent, the silky strands of hair brushing against Remus's cheek - it was all too much. Remus's hands, still gripping the chair, ached to reach out and touch, to pull Sirius closer.

But just as quickly as it began, it was over. Sirius gracefully extricated himself, taking a theatrical bow to the circle. Remus blinked, dazed as if emerging from a vivid dream.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen," Sirius announced with a flourish, "is how it's done."

Applause filled the space as Sirius helped Remus to his feet. Remus stumbled slightly, as he was still foregoing his cane. He made his way back to his spot in the circle.

Mary nudged him playfully as he sat down. "Well, that was quite a show," she giggled.

Remus managed a weak smile, still too on edge to form a coherent response. He reached for his drink, draining it in one long swallow.

The game went on, with the dares becoming more outrageous and the truths more revealing. Remus found himself shrinking back, hoping he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire again. He watched as Peter was dared to drink a vile concoction of various alcohol, his face twisting in disgust as he choked it down. James, not missing a beat, was dared to streak around the outside of the building—something he did with a little too much enthusiasm. After that, a girl Remus didn’t recognize asked for ‘truth,’ and she blushed before revealing her secret crush on a professor. And then it was Mary’s turn.

“Truth or dare?” Lily asked from her spot across the circle.

Mary seemed to consider her options for a moment before Sirius cut in, “Don’t be boring MacDonald, c’mon.”

“Fine, fine!” She relented. “Dare.”

"I dare you," Lily said, dragging out the words, "to kiss the person in this room you find most attractive."

A collective "ooh" rippled through the room.

Before Remus even had time to process, Mary cupped his face and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was brief but firm, catching Remus completely off guard. As Mary pulled away, her cheeks flushed, Remus blinked in stunned silence

"Sorry," Mary said over the whooping, her cheeks flushed. "I hope that wasn't too forward."

Remus shook his head, struggling to find his voice. "No, it's... it's fine," he managed, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well, well, Aren’t you quite popular tonight,” Lily teased.

Remus caught Sirius's eye. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something—disappointment? Jealousy?—cross Sirius' face. But it was gone so quickly, replaced by his trademark smile, that Remus wondered if he had imagined it.

"Nice one, MacDonald," Sirius called out, raising his cup in a mock toast. "Though I'm a bit offended you didn’t choose me.”

“Been there, done that” Mary retorted sticking her tongue out.

“Right, well, think it’s time for a break before we start a new game.” Sirius declared before promptly making his way to the whiskey.

The game dissolved as people dispersed for refills and conversation. Remus remained seated, his mind reeling from the events of the past few minutes. He could still feel the phantom pressure of Sirius's body against his, the unexpected softness of Mary's lips. It was all too much, too fast.

He stood abruptly, mumbling an excuse about needing air. Weaving through the room, he made his way outside, grateful for the cool night breeze that caressed his flushed skin. The sounds of the party faded as he closed the door behind him, leaving him in blissful semi-silence.

Leaning against the wall, Remus exhaled a slow breath, his hand instinctively reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, flicked the lighter, and lit it with a practiced motion. As the flame caught, he inhaled deeply.

He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl and dissipate in the cool night air. The nicotine coursed through his system, calming his frayed nerves. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the rough stone wall. The distant sounds of laughter and music from the party seemed muffled now as if belonging to another world entirely.

His solitude was short-lived, however. The door creaked open, and Remus could hear footsteps approaching. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who had joined him.

"Escaping your own party?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Sirius chuckled, "Just needed a breather. It's a bit... intense in there."

Remus opened his eyes to find Sirius leaning against the wall beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. In the dim light, Sirius's features were softened, his usual bravado replaced by a quieter, more contemplative air.

"Mind if I bum one?" Sirius asked, nodding towards the cigarette dangling between Remus's fingers.

Wordlessly, Remus held out the pack, his fingers lingering near the edge. Sirius took one in a swift, fluid motion. Then, he hooked Remus by the collar, tugging him down slightly, just like that time in the corridor. Before Remus could react, Sirius used the glowing ember of his cigarette to light his own. The brief flare of the flame illuminated his face—his cheekbones carved, his eyes dark and intense, shadowed by the soft light.

"So," Sirius said finally, exhaling a plume of smoke, "quite the eventful evening you're having."

Remus felt a flush creep up his neck, grateful for the darkness that hid it. "I s’pose you could say that," he murmured, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Sirius turned to face him. "I hope I didn't make you too uncomfortable earlier. With the dare, I mean."

"No, it's... it's fine," Remus said, echoing his earlier words to Mary. But this time, he found himself meaning it.

"And Mary?" Sirius asked, his voice carefully neutral. "That was... unexpected."

Remus shrugged, flicking ash from his cigarette. "For me as well," he admitted. "I'm not sure what to make of it, to be honest."

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, sucking on his cigarette. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost hesitant. "Would you have liked it if it had been someone else? Who kissed you, I mean.”

Remus held his breath. He tried to read the expression on Sirius’ face in the dim light.

"I guess," Remus began slowly, choosing his words, "it would depend on who that someone else was."

Sirius shifted slightly, angling his body towards Remus. "So, James then?" he joked.

“Lily, obviously,” Remus replied trying to school his face.

“What?!” Sirius’ eyes went wide. “Remus… I know that you have a class with her and you spend quite a bit of time together. But Lily and James are practically married and if he knew—” He cut himself off when he caught sight of Remus’ face which was dangerously close to breaking. “Bloody hell! You cheeky bugger! I thought I was going to have to smuggle you out of the country to save you from James’ wrath.” He clapped his free hand over his face laughing.

Remus snickered, "Your face was priceless, I couldn't resist."

Sirius shook his head, still in disbelief about the joke. "You're full of surprises tonight, Moony."

As their cigarettes neared the end, Sirius spoke up, “Coming back in?”

“Think I’m going to call it a night. Leave some action for everyone else.” Remus replied, stubbing out his cigarette on the stone wall.

Sirius nodded but had a small pout on his face. “Walk me back?”

“Sure, couldn’t disappoint you on your birthday.” Remus conceded.

They made it to the door of the common room and Sirius looked like he was wrestling with something.

“Guess this is where I leave you. Hope the rest of the party lives up to your expectations.” Remus started turning to leave when Sirius grabbed his wrist.

"What if... what if it had been me?"

"What do you mean?" Remus asked, even though he knew exactly what Sirius meant.

“What if it had been me that kissed you?” Sirius questioned again, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip.

Remus bent down, his movements slow and deliberate, and pressed a gentle kiss to Sirius' cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering for a moment against the cool skin. As he pulled back, a soft smile played on his lips, and he whispered, "Happy birthday, love."

Remus turned away, his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he made his way down the corridor toward his room. He could feel Sirius's gaze burning into his back, but he didn't dare look behind him.

Chapter Text

Remus emerged from Pomfrey's office, his footsteps heavy against the polished floors of the clinic as he made his exit. The soft rustling of leaves from the courtyard's oak trees whispered in the breeze, though it went unnoticed through the fog of his discontent. He clutched the small orange bottle containing his meager supply of painkillers, the pills rattling as he walked.

The medication that had been a lifeline this morning, now represented the slow erosion of his ability to cope with the constant, gnawing pain that had become his unwelcome companion.

Remus's mind wandered to the conversation he'd just had with the doctor. Her words replayed in a loop, each syllable a sharp reminder of his predicament. "We need to start tapering off, Remus. Your body can't sustain this level of medication indefinitely. Swimming seems to be going well and we need to start focusing our efforts there. Of course, you can still use paracetamol when needed." Pomfrey's voice, usually so soothing, had taken on a clinical edge that grated against his frayed nerves. "We," she had said as if the pain coursing through his leg was a shared experience, a collective burden they both carried.

The air was crisp and laden with the scent of fallen leaves. Students milled about, their laughter and chatter a harsh counterpoint to the leaden silence that enveloped Remus. He observed their carefree movements with resentment, their bodies whole—unbroken and unburdened.

He walked to his tree and settled on the ground, tossing his bag to the side. The roots seemed to cradle him in a protective embrace as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to center himself—the ambient sounds of campus life faded into nothingness.

Remus immediately considered calling Grant to try to find some comfort. Yet, as he traced his scars over his trousers, a realization dawned on him. Grant, with his optimistic approach to life, would undoubtedly side with Pomfrey. Remus could almost hear him now, his words tinged with that particular blend of concern and encouragement. "She's right, you know. That’s good news, it means you are getting better." he would say, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had witnessed his injury firsthand. The thought of Grant's well-intentioned support only served to deepen Remus's sense of isolation. His thoughts turned to James and Sirius. For a moment, Remus considered reaching out to them. But as quickly as the impulse arose, it withered and died, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste of self-doubt.

With a soft groan, Remus pushed himself up from the ground, his muscles protesting the movement. The tree's roots, which had provided a small refuge, now seemed reluctant to release their hold. He leaned against the trunk for a moment, gathering his resolve.

He began his trek towards his Astronomy lecture, each step a careful negotiation between will and pain. The stop at the tree meant that he would be late, but being there for half the class was better than nothing.

Remus pushed open the heavy door, wincing at the loud creak of the hinge that announced his tardy arrival, though no one seemed to notice. Professor Sinistra's voice, filled the space as she gestured to the display on the projector. He scanned the rows of seats, his gaze sweeping over the sea of unfamiliar faces. He was about to resign himself to finding a lone spot at the back when a movement caught his attention.

On the end of a row in the middle of the class, Evan’s slender form rose slightly, his hand waving in a discreet yet unmistakable gesture. Beside him, Barty’s perfectly messy hair gleamed under the soft glow of the overhead lights, while Reggie's dark silhouette completed the trio. They had saved him a seat, a small act of kindness that lifted his spirits marginally.

He nodded a silent thanks to Evan as he sat, unable to muster the energy for more.

Barty leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "Oversleep?”

“No, just a shit morning,” Remus said with a bit of an edge.

Reggie passed a notebook towards him, its pages filled with neat, concise notes from the portion of the lecture Remus had missed. He accepted it with a small thanks, before quickly scanning it and handing it back.

The lecture continued with soft scratching of pens on paper and the occasional rustle of turning pages, providing a soothing backdrop to the professor's voice. Remus watched as Barty's hand moved across his notebook, his elegant script filling the margins with additional observations and questions. Evan sat with his chin propped on his hand, his gaze fixed on the projector screen, while Reggie's eyes darted between the professor and his notes, capturing every detail with meticulous precision.

As class came to a close, Remus remained seated, his movements deliberately slow as he gathered his belongings.

Barty, who had been stealing glances at Remus throughout the lecture, turned to face him fully. His angular features were uncharacteristically soft.

“Remus,” he began as the room started to empty, “you look like you could use some food. What do you say lads, fancy getting a bite?”

“Um, yeah actually.” Remus replied feeling his stomach growl. “I didn’t have breakfast today.”

“Sorry, I have to get to the library. Have a huge essay due tomorrow.” Regulus said with a regretful look on his face. “See you later, Remus?”

“Course.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t today either. Got another group project for a different class. S’pose to meet up with them.” Evan chimed in.

Barty gave a mock affronted expression, “Excuse me?! You are cheating on us with randos?”

“You know me,” Evan winked, “never been one for commitment.”

Barty turned his attention back to Remus. “Looks like it’s you and me.”

Once they got to the dining hall they found a quiet corner, away from the teeming crowds, where the afternoon sunlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting a rainbow of colors across their table. The two sat in silence as they ate for a few minutes before Barty spoke.

“I know that I’m kind of a prat sometimes and I’m more candid than most. So, I’m just going to ask, do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you? I’ve noticed you haven’t been using your cane lately.”

Remus paused, his fork suspended midway to his mouth. The directness of Barty's question caught him off guard, piercing through the carefully constructed walls he had built around his pain. He lowered his utensil, the metal clinking softly against the ceramic plate.

For a moment, Remus considered deflecting, falling back on the well-worn excuses and reassurances he had perfected over the months. But something in Barty's earnest gaze, devoid of the usual sarcasm, gave him pause. The weight of his morning's appointment with Pomfrey, the constant ache in his leg, and the looming specter of reduced medication all pressed down on him, threatening to overwhelm. He was tired physically and emotionally.

"I..." he began, then faltered, unsure how to articulate the storm of emotions roiling within him.

Remus took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the colorful patterns scattered across the table. "It's... complicated," he finally said. "I had an appointment with Dr. Pomfrey this morning. She wants to start tapering off my pain medication."

Barty nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That must be difficult to hear," he said, his tone gentle.

"It's not just difficult, it's..." he paused, searching for the right words. "It feels like I'm losing ground. Like all the progress I've made is going to slip away without it."

Barty remained silent, allowing Remus the space to continue. The dining hall's ambient noise seemed to fade into the background, creating a bubble of privacy.

Remus sighed, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his water glass. "I've been pushing myself, you know? Trying to do more, be more normal. The swimming has helped, but..." He trailed off, struggling to articulate the fear that gripped him.

Barty leaned forward. "But you're afraid it won't be enough without the medication?"

Remus felt a lump forming in his throat. "Exactly. And it's not just the physical pain. It's... it's a constant reminder. Every twinge, every ache - it's like my body betraying me over and over again. And the worst part is I feel like he’s winning."

Barty's brow furrowed, his eyes searching Remus's face. "He?"

Remus hesitated, realizing he had revealed more than he intended.

He took a shaky breath, steeling himself. “My father. He’s the one that caused my leg injury.”

The revelation hung in the air between them. Barty's eyes widened slightly, but to his credit, he didn't recoil or offer empty platitudes.

“I’m very sorry, Remus. That is proper fucked.”

The bluntness of the statement made Remus laugh. It started as a chuckle and gradually overtook his whole body. The laughter subsided, leaving Remus feeling oddly lighter. He wiped at his eyes, surprised to find them damp.

Barty watched him, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not going to pretend I understand everything you're going through. But I do know what it's like to have a complicated relationship with a father."

Remus raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite himself. Barty rarely spoke about his family, and when he did, it was usually with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Mine, well…he believed in strict punishment, you could say,” Barty admitted, “But I learned something from it all - we don't have to let them win. Your father, my father... they don't get to define us. Reg, Evan, and I grew up together. None of us had good home lives. We kind of became brothers in some fucked up way. It’s shit the way it happened, but honestly, I’d go through it all again for those two. Guess what I’m trying to say is, welcome to the family."

He looked at Barty, really looked at him, seeing past the sarcastic exterior to the empathy beneath. For a moment, he was at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the unexpected kinship.

"I—thank you," Remus finally managed, "that means more than you know."

A flicker of understanding passed between them. He leaned back in his chair, his usual air of nonchalance returning, though his eyes remained soft. "Well, don't go getting all sentimental on me now, Lupin. I've got a reputation to maintain."

Remus chuckled, grateful for the levity. "Wouldn't dream of it."

“So back to your original problem. You feel like you need the painkillers?” Barty asked, taking a drink of his water.

“Yeah, I really do.” Remus ran a hand over his face before adding, “at least for now.”

“I know a guy that lives in my dorm that sells. I could help you get acquainted if you like.” Barty offered.

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

“Anything for family, mate.” Barty gave him a quick wink. “I’ll talk to him and let you know.”

As they finished their meal, the dining hall started to empty, the clamor of students fading into a quiet hum. Remus found himself reluctant to leave, the connection with Barty providing a welcome respite from his earlier turmoil.

"I s’pose we should head out," Remus said, glancing at his watch. "I've got my writing and research workshop soon."

Barty started gathering his things. "Ah, the joys of academia. Never-ending, are they?"

They made their way out of the dining hall, buttoning their jackets in preparation for the cold.

"Right then," Barty said, clearing his throat. "Best be off. Wouldn't want you to be late for your workshop. God forbid you miss out on the thrilling world of proper citation formats."

Remus wasn’t sure if Barty’s ability to keep things light was a natural gift or something that he had to learn over time. Either way, he once again found himself grateful for it.

—

Regulus and Remus met at their usual time in the courtyard halfway between the Gryffindor and Slytherin dormitories. They set off in the direction of the swimming facilities.

"You look better," Regulus observed, “day improve?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Remus’ mouth. "Yeah, Barty helped quite a lot. He’s got an unexpected side to him."

Regulus let out an amused sound. "Barty has a way of surprising people. He's got layers, that one."

After arriving, they entered the changing rooms, the fluorescent lights harsh against the white tiles. Remus moved to his usual corner, his movements deliberate as he changed into his swimming trunks.

"You know," Regulus began, his tone casual as he pulled on his swimwear, "there's no shame in using your cane if you need it. Especially on days when the pain is worse."

Remus paused, he hadn’t realized his internal struggle had been so obvious. He turned to face Regulus, studying his expression. There was no pity there, just genuine concern.

"I know," Remus sighed, running a hand through his curls. "It's just... I hate feeling dependent on it. Hate the thought of using it for the rest of my life."

There was understanding on Regulus’ face. "Progress isn't always linear. Some days are better than others. Using the cane when you need it doesn't negate all the work you've done."

Remus mulled over his words as they made their way to the pool. The chlorine scent grew stronger, mingling with the humid air as they approached the water's edge.

"You're right," Remus admitted, his voice barely audible above the ambient echoes of the natatorium. "It's just difficult to accept sometimes."

Reggie hummed in acknowledgment. "Acceptance often is. But, just in case it wasn’t obvious, you can lean on us." He tilted his head side to side before adding, “metaphorically, of course, think you might crush me if you actually leaned on me.”

Remus let out a bemused scoff, “Oh, I see how it is.”

They slipped into the water almost simultaneously, barely disturbing the surface. The coolness seeped into Remus’ skin. For a moment, he allowed himself to float, relishing the sensation of weightlessness.

As they began their laps, Remus found his rhythm, his strokes cutting through the water. The repetitive motion was meditative, allowing his mind to wander. He thought about Barty's unexpected kindness, Regulus's quiet support, and even Evan's small gesture of saving him a seat in class. These seemingly insignificant acts of friendship tethering him to a sense of normalcy.

After several laps, they paused at the shallow end. Remus leaned against the pool's edge, his arms folded on the tiled rim. Regulus mirrored his position, his dark hair plastered to his forehead.

“You good if I do a few more laps?” Reggie asked completely unfazed.

“Yeah, course,” Remus answered through labored breaths, “I’m just gonna float for a bit.”

Regulus pushed off from the wall, his lean form gliding through the water with practiced ease. Remus watched him for a moment before turning onto his back, allowing himself to drift. The ceiling of the natatorium stretched above him, its expanse broken only by the luminesce of fluorescent lights.

As he drifted, the water cradled him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of weightlessness, the muffled sounds of Regulus's strokes, and the occasional splash echoing through the cavernous space.

Once Regulus finished his laps, he swam over to where Remus was floating. The gentle ripples from his approach disturbed Remus's reverie, causing him to right himself in the water.

"Ready to head out?" Regulus asked, his voice carrying in the vast space.

They climbed out of the pool, water cascading off their bodies and creating small puddles on the tiled floor. Remus moved carefully, mindful of the slippery surface. As they walked towards the changing rooms, he found himself unconsciously favoring his good leg. Regulus slowed his pace to match Remus’, offering a steadying presence without drawing attention to it.

"I honestly don’t understand how you do that," Remus began, as they reached their lockers, "you swim for ages and you never look worn out."

Regulus paused, a towel draped around his shoulders, his eyes taking on a distant, almost dreamy quality. "The water…it's always been more than just a place to swim for me. It's like a sanctuary."

He ran a hand through his damp hair, droplets cascading down his arm. "When I was young, my family had a summer home by the sea. I'd spend hours in the water, diving beneath the waves, feeling the currents pull and push against my body. It was the first place I felt truly free."

Remus listened, captivated by the fondness in Reggie’s usually reserved voice.

"There's something magical about being suspended like that."

"I think I'm starting to understand that feeling," Remus said softly. "When I'm in the water, it's like... like the pain recedes. Like I'm whole again, even if just for a little while."

Regulus smiled, "That's exactly it. The water doesn't judge or expect anything from you. It just... is."

They dressed, the sounds of lockers opening and closing echoing through the changing room. After getting bundled up in their jackets, they exited the facility to head back to their respective rooms. Remus shivered at the evening air hitting his damp skin. They walked across the courtyard until they reached their dividing spot.

“Same time tomorrow?” Remus asked.

“Same time tomorrow.” Reggie confirm.

Chapter Text

Barty guided Remus through the winding corridors of the Slytherin dormitory. The building exuded an elegance, with polished stone floors that echoed underfoot and arched ceilings casting long shadows. Unlike the vibrant warmth of Gryffindor, the air here held a cool stillness. Wall sconces flickered with a softer, almost subdued light, casting a muted glow over the sparse decor. The walls, devoid of the cozy red curtains and large oil paint portraits, were instead lined with austere, dark wood panels that felt more modern.

They climbed to the third floor and arrived at a door with dark wood grain swirling like smoke frozen in time. Barty rapped his knuckles against it in a precise pattern - three quick taps followed by two slow ones. The door swung open silently, revealing a dimly lit room that seemed to breathe with arcane energy.

“Take a breath, you look like you are about to run for it,” Barty said looking like he was finding quite a lot of humor in Remus’ wide-eyed expression.

“Can’t help it, I’ve never done this before.” Remus retorted through his teeth.

Barty rolled his eyes with a grin and said, "Oh, it's just Sev. I know he gives off the impression of someone who'd plot your murder, but he's not actually going to go through with it. Wouldn't be very good for business, would it?

Before he could ask what that was supposed to mean, the door swung open revealing a figure tall and thin, almost unnervingly so, like a silhouette carved from shadow. His dark, greasy hair hung in limp strands around his face, falling just past his shoulders, framing a complexion that was pale, almost sallow, with the sharp angles of his cheekbones giving him a gaunt, hollowed-out look. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to pierce, scrutinizing Remus with a cold, calculating look. Beneath heavy brows that furrowed naturally, there was a subtle hostility in the way his lips were pressed into a thin line as if he were always on the verge of a sneer. His posture was stiff, rigid, as though he were perpetually carrying some invisible weight on his shoulders.

“Barty,” he muttered in an unimpressed tone.

“Severus, always lovely to see you” Barty quipped sarcastically.

Instead of replying he simply scoffed and opened the door wide enough for the two of them to slip in to avoid the eyes of passersby.

“Not that we don’t fancy sticking around, but you know what the order is, yeah.” Barty made a ‘hurry up’ gesture with his hand proving this was nothing new to him.

Severus scoffed like Barty was taking him for an idiot. “Need the money first, Crouch.”

They both turned to look at Remus, startling him into motion. He quickly shoved his hand into his pocket and extracted several notes. “Right, here you are.”

Severus’ lips curled into a barely-there smirk. "Don’t get caught,” he said snatching the money from Remus’ hand, replacing it with a plastic baggie of Oxy. “And if you do, forget my name.

Flipping Sev the bird, Barty grabbed Remus’ elbow and guided him back toward the door. “Until next time,” he called as they made their exit.

As soon as they were out of the dormitory Barty folded over laughing, “looked like you were absolutely bricking yourself, mate.” Barty’s laughter dissolved into intermittent snorts as they continued walking. “Your face back there—like a Victorian maiden witnessing her first ankle," he managed between residual chuckles.

"Forgive me if illegal transactions aren’t part of my daily routine." Remus bit back, but the growing smile on his face betrayed his attempt at annoyance.

Barty pivoted mid-stride to walk backward and face Remus.

"Ah yes, Saint Lupin never dabbling in earthly vices until cruelly led astray by nefarious influences..." His eyebrow arched theatrically above a conspiratorial whisper: "Should I start penning your hagiography now? Admit it," he pressed, "you rather enjoyed dancing on the dark side."

Remus traced the edge of his scarf - forest green wool unraveling slightly at the hem. "If by 'dancing' you mean nearly dissolving into a puddle of social anxiety," he said dryly.

They strolled across the courtyard until arriving at the spot where their paths diverged, with Barty making his way to his lecture and Remus heading off to the library for his shift.

“Hagiography draft due Tuesday?” Remus quipped as he turned to walk away.

“Anything to please the Saints,” Barty called after him.

Sitting down at the front desk, Remus let out a slow breath. The main room was sparsely populated, save for a few dedicated students hunched over their studies—faces buried in their notes.

Time slipped away and he became lost in the rhythm of sorting returned books—each one a tangible representation of countless stories and lives lived—Remus allowed his mind to wander. The pages felt cool under his fingers, whispering secrets only the inked words could tell. This sanctuary of silence was a welcome change to the charged atmosphere of the Slytherin dormitory.

As the clock's hands inched toward the hour, the faint chiming echoed through the lofty ceilings of the library, mingling with the low hum of whispered conversations and the soft rustle of pages turning. Remus glanced up from his task to see James saunter into the room, with his signature buoyancy and effervescent charm.

He approached the desk where Remus was stationed, hands casually shoved into the pockets of his well-fitted jeans, a placating grin illuminating his face as he leaned against the wooden counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” James quipped.

“Not that fancy seeing as you knew I was working today.” Remus countered without pausing from his tasks.

“True enough,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly as if considering an impending revelation. “But you have been known to sneak off elsewhere when you claim to be working.”

Remus paused for a moment feeling caught out. He had used the excuse before sure, but he wasn’t aware that James had been so perceptive to the frequency.

“Not sure what you mean,” Remus said with a slight blush forming across his cheeks at the embarrassment.

“No?” James raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I could provide you with a few examples if that would help.”

“You caught me,” Remus conceded. “Now, can I help you find a book or something?”

“Nope, just came by to see if you had anything on tonight or if you wanted to grab some food after you finish up,” James replied easily.

Remus let out a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. "Skipped lunch today to finish my homework, so I could use some food. I’ll be off in ten minutes."

James clapped his hands together looking far too delighted for Remus agreeing to simply eat dinner with him. “Excellent, I’ll wait here and we can head to the pub together.”

Remus groaned inwardly realizing James had been strategically vague about his questioning to ensure he couldn’t formulate an excuse to avoid going.

“What? Why not the canteen?” He tried anyway.

“Because,” James said stretching out the word, “the dining hall doesn’t have beer or open mic night.”

“No.” The word flew out of Remus’ mouth before his mind even had time to process.

“Relax, mate.” A grin overtook James’ face. “No one is going to make you sing. Just a bit of fun is all.”

“Fine.” he relented, “but I’ll need to stop by the dorm to change, too cold out for what I’m wearing.”

“Perfect, the rest of the group is meeting us there anyway. Now, grab your stuff, and let’s go.” James said drumming his hands on the desk.

Upon arriving at Gryffindor Hall, they were met with the familiar faces of Sirius, Lily, Peter, Mary, and Marlene. Everyone was dressed appropriately for the weather apart from Sirius, who despite the frigid air was wearing only his leather jacket for warmth.

“Are you trying to freeze yourself to death?” Remus couldn’t help but ask as he approached the group.

Sirius turned, an amused glint igniting in his eyes. “There’s a certain charm in embracing the chill,” he replied with a lopsided smile, one hand casually brushing back his long hair.

“Right… well, seeing as I have no charm, I’m going to change.”

Remus pivoted on his heel, the corners of his mouth twitching in reluctant amusement at Sirius's bravado as he stepped away from the group. He had barely taken two steps before he felt a hand encircle his wrist.

“I’ll come with you,” Sirius said, his grip gentle yet firm. The confidence in Sirius’s tone almost made Remus forget the chilly air nipping at their skin.

A flush crept up Remus's neck. He opened his mouth to protest—after all, the last thing he needed was the scrutiny of Sirius while he changed—but the words faltered at the tip of his tongue. Instead, he felt something akin to exhilaration at the prospect of being alone with Sirius.

As they reached the door to their dormitory, Remus felt a flutter in his stomach, not entirely attributable to nerves—there was an anticipation that crackled in the air between them like static electricity. The dim light from the hallway spilled into the room.

Sirius stepped inside, his presence filling the room with an easy confidence. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing Remus with a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that sent a thrill racing through his body.

“Take your time,” Sirius said nonchalantly, though his gaze was fixed on Remus, quietly appraising.

Remus felt an almost unbearable weight of Sirius's attention as if the very air around them had thickened with lingering glances. He turned away, pretending to rummage through his wardrobe, though it was difficult to concentrate on the familiar task when he could feel the heat of Sirius memorizing the contours of his back.

After a moment of indecision, Remus settled on a chunky knit jumper, its deep blue color contrasting with the earthy tones of his scarf.

“Could you…um…could you turn around? He asked feeling like an idiot for the request.

Sirius’s smirk widened, but he obliged. “As you wish, Moony,” he said, a teasing lilt enhancing his tone as he turned to face the door.

With an almost palpable sigh of relief, he quickly changed into the thicker jumper, grateful for the cocoon of fabric that shielded him from both the cold and the intensity of Sirius's stare.

“Okay, you can turn back now,” Remus said, voice steadier than he felt. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, noting how the rich color of his jumper complemented the soft hue of his eyes—a fleeting moment of reassurance.

Sirius swiveled slowly, scanning Remus with an appreciation that made the room feel smaller, more intimate. A silence settled between them.

“Guess you didn’t need my fashion advice,” Sirius declared, taking a step closer, his smile genuine. “Think I may have made a mistake with this jacket, might freeze on the way there.”

“You could always borrow one of my jumpers,” Remus offered, half teasing and half earnest, “I have plenty to spare.”

Sirius stepped into Remus’ space, “How very kind of you, Moony. How about that one?” He asked pointing to Remus’ favorite green jumper draped over his desk chair.

Remus felt caught in the sudden intimacy of their proximity. “Well, I suppose it would keep you warm,” Remus said, forcing a lightness into his tone that belied the flutter of nerves churning within him. He turned to retrieve the jumper, the fabric soft in his hands as he drew it from the chair. The green hue, reminiscent of lush forests and shadowy groves. It was a garment he had always felt particularly attached to.

“Here,” Remus said, handing it to Sirius with an effort that belied the ease of their camaraderie. Their fingers brushed for an instant.

Sirius peeled his leather jacket off and slipped the jumper on over his head.

“I think I might have just discovered my new favorite piece of clothing,” he proclaimed, running a hand through his hair and causing it to fall charmingly awry. The sight sent an involuntary smile curling at the corners of Remus's mouth.

“Tread lightly,” Remus warned softly, though the laughter in his voice undercut any seriousness. “I will take that back by force if necessary.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed, “Careful, Moony. The promise of you taking this off of me doesn’t sound like much of a threat.”

“Is that so?” Remus replied, an unintentional challenge lingering between them. He could feel the vibrant pulse of his heartbeat echoing in the stillness of the room, each thump a reminder of the precarious precipice upon which they balanced.

Sirius stepped closer still, “Try it and see what happens.”

Remus pushed down the urge to rip the jumper off his body right there and abandon the others altogether. He cleared his throat trying to hide any trace of it from his voice. “We should probably head out before the others come looking for us.”

Sirius's gaze held fast on Remus, a playful recklessness flickering behind those intense grey eyes. “Why do you want to rush?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as if the very act of questioning could draw out the truth hiding beneath Remus's carefully crafted façade.

Remus took a hesitant step back, the distance between them like a taut string, ready to snap at any moment. “They are probably getting cold,” he stammered, the excuse feeling flimsy. Yet deep inside, there was a longing—a desire to remain suspended in this moment.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Sirius agreed, taking another step forward, effectively closing the distance that had offered Remus some semblance of stability.

“Brilliant, let's go,” Remus said quickly trying to escape the situation.

As soon as they went outside, James couldn't help but chuckle quietly, noticing how Sirius was engulfed by the oversized jumper, though he didn’t say anything about it. The pub was just a short walk away, and once there, the group quickly got comfortable and ordered food and drinks.

The atmosphere inside the pub was warm and alive, a sharp contrast to the brisk evening air. The low hum of laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses, creating a backdrop that felt familiar. It was in this cozy enclave that vulnerabilities seemed to dissipate. Nothing happened, and yet he felt like it had.

People huddled close together, their animated conversations punctuating the melodic strumming emanating from a corner of the room, where the Open Mic night was soon to commence.

“Are you going to perform?” James nudged Sirius, a knowing grin playing on his lips. The others caught wind of it and began to tease, urging him with playful jabs to take to the small stage in the corner.

“Well, I couldn’t disappoint the whole pub tonight, now could I?" Sirius said with a flourish relishing the idea of being the center of attention. The group erupted into a chorus of encouragement

“Go on then,” Mary called out, “show us what you’ve got, Black.”

Sirius, buoyed by the fervor of his friends and the warmth of the atmosphere, rose from his seat with an air of theatrical confidence. He cast a quick glance back at Remus, whose heart had ascended into his throat.

“Alright then!” Sirius proclaimed, striding toward the stage with a commanding presence that drew eyes like moths to a flame.

Remus observed as he grabbed the guitar, sat on the stool, and adjusted the microphone. His long hair swayed softly with each motion, framing his face in a manner that seemed both personal and majestically grand.

Sirius glanced out over the audience, and in that fleeting moment, it was as if time stopped. His eyes sought Remus's, locking onto him with an intensity that rendered the rest of the world invisible.

“This one is for the moon,” Sirius spoke into the microphone.

Then, with nimble fingers poised to strum, he began to play. The gentle strumming of the guitar filled the space between them. Remus sat transfixed on the performance as if he were the only soul in the room, ensnared by the melody weaving its way through the air.

Keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe Put your ray gun to my head Press your space face close to mine, love Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

Sirius' voice, raw and intoxicating, poured forth as he sang about starlit wonders and cosmic escapades—a celestial journey rendered in lyrical form. Each word felt like an invitation, a promise whispered directly to Remus through the undulating melodies. At that moment, he knew that there wasn’t any fight left in him. There was no denying that he wanted more with Sirius. He wanted everything with him.

Make me baby Make me know you really care Make me jump into the air

Lost in the rhythm of the performance, Remus felt as though he were teetering on the edge of some vast and uncharted abyss. The feeling scared him, but it was also the most alive he had ever felt.

When the song spiraled into its final chords, the room broke into applause and cheers. Sirius stood and took a small bow, radiant and effervescent, momentarily lost in the admiration of his friends and strangers alike, their faces lit by the golden glow of the lights.

Sirius descended from the stage, spurred by the applause but tethered by an invisible thread that drew him back towards Remus. The clapping faded and the next performer stepped up.

What followed was a flurry of animated conversations, the group buzzing with excitement and laughter. Marlene leaned forward, “You were brilliant! You should do that more often.”

“Did you like it?” Sirius's voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as he leaned closer to Remus, who sat rooted in his seat, pulse fluttering like a captive bird.

“Of course,” Remus managed, though the word felt insubstantial in comparison to the gravity of what had just transpired. “You were…extraordinary.” The word escaped him, laden with unspoken admiration that surged within his chest.

“Extraordinary? That’s high praise coming from you, Moony,” Sirius responded with a wink.

The moment felt delicate, as though any overt gesture would shatter it into a thousand irretrievable pieces. Instead, they lingered there, eyes locked in a silent conversation.

“Maybe I should take up performing more often,” Sirius mused, his voice low enough that only Remus could catch it amidst the jubilant chatter. “Then perhaps I might coax some more compliments out of you.”

Remus felt like he had a permanent blush around Sirius. He tried to cover it up by taking a sip of his drink. He was grateful for the dim lighting of the bar, hiding any visible signs of his embarrassment.

Mary seized the moment to slide her chair closer to Remus. Her eyes glimmered like polished stones beneath the dim lights, playful mischief dancing within their depths.

“You know,” she began, resting her chin lightly on her palm as she leaned in closer, “while Sirius has his charm, it’s the quiet ones who often hold the most surprises.” She smiled coyly.

“Oh, I agree,” Lily chimed in, “I’m positive Remus has some hidden talents.”

“Tell me, Remus,” she leaned even closer, allowing her curly hair to fall slightly forward, framing her face in soft waves. “What is it that you keep hidden?” Her voice was melodic, each syllable wrapped in a teasing lilt.

He shifted slightly in his seat, acutely aware of the way Sirius's eyes flickered with an undercurrent of jealousy, darkening in their intensity as he watched Mary inch ever closer.

“Sorry, ‘fraid you’d be disappointed.” Remus tried deflecting.

Remus had barely finished his sentence when Sirius's fingers drummed absently against the table, an unconscious rhythm that seemed to mimic the erratic beating of Remus's heart.

Lily and Mary both laughed, oblivious to the sudden tension. “Oh come on, Remus,” Mary said with mock exasperation, “there must be something you're hiding.”

Remus shrugged nonchalantly, “I'm afraid I'm not as interesting as you all seem to think.”

“Ah yes, speaking of hidden talents,” Sirius interjected suddenly, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to Mary. “I heard you've taken up crocheting lately.”

Mary rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh ha ha, very funny Black.” She turned back towards Remus. “But all jokes aside, I do think there's more to you than meets the eye.”

Before Remus could respond, James came back from the bar with Peter trailing behind him like an eager puppy. “Next round has arrived!” He exclaimed setting fresh pints down on the table.

“Cheers!” they chorused, the sound echoing against the worn wooden beams above them.

“So, what’d we miss?” Peter asked settling back into his seat.

“Just some light-hearted interrogation,” Mary said as she nudged Remus. “Trying to get this one to share.”

“Interrogation?” he echoed, attempting to maintain his composure while his heart raced. “I fail to see how discussing my non-existent talents constitutes an interrogation.”

“Ah, but therein lies the intrigue,” Mary replied.

“Give it a rest, Mary,” Marlene spoke from across the table. “We would like him to willingly join us again. I can see him squirming from here.”

The laughter rippled through the group like a soft breeze.

“I’m quite alright being unremarkable,” Remus replied before swiftly chugging half of his pint. The froth of his drink clung to the corners of his mouth and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. He could feel Sirius watching his every move and the butterflies in his stomach were starting to swirl with the beer, making it increasingly difficult to shove down his intrusive thoughts.

Once Peter and James settled back in, the group began chatting. Marlene and Lily started talking about the new cappuccino machine in the canteen, while James and Peter inevitably got into a debate about their recent chess game. James boasted about his victory, while Peter accused him of cheating by rearranging pieces when he went to the bathroom. Which left Remus, Mary, and Sirius in a stilted conversation about classes.

As the conversation around the table drifted to other topics, Remus found himself feeling increasingly restless. He couldn't shake the impulse to keep looking over at Sirius in his sweater. By the fourth round, it was unbearable and he needed to escape. His pint was sitting practically untouched, so he took a deep breath and downed it in record time.

“Blimey mate,” James started, “come up for some air.”

“Gotta go, didn’t want to waste it.” Remus rose from his seat, the quickness of his decision betraying the growing urgency within him.

“Wait, what? You’re leaving?” Lily asked sitting up a little straighter.

“It’s getting late,” Remus said taking small steps backward in the direction of the door.

“Just because you dress like you are eighty-five doesn’t mean you have to act like it,” Peter remarked, earning a laugh from James.

Mary reached out and clutched his arm. “Stay just a bit longer?”

Her teasing tone dissolving into something softer, more earnest.

“I’m knackered, really,” Remus insisted, forcing a smile that felt more brittle than he'd intended.

He offered a half-hearted wave and turned away, feeling the warmth of their laughter fade behind him, replaced by brisk night air. Yet no sooner had he taken a few steps than he sensed the unmistakable presence of Sirius behind him. He felt it before he heard it—the soft rhythm of footsteps matching his own.

“Oi, Remus!” Sirius called out, his voice slicing through the evening stillness like a sharp blade. “Where are you running off to?”

Remus halted, an involuntary shiver at the commanding edge in Sirius’s tone. He paused, grappling with an itch to sprint away, but it felt stifling as he turned to face Sirius, who stood just a meter away, the faint glow from the pub's inside casting shadows on his striking features.

“I’m not running off,” Remus replied, the words dripping with an unintentional defensiveness. “I simply—”

“Needed some air?” Sirius interrupted, a hint of frustration mingling with concern. “You always do this.”

Remus scoffed, “Do what?”

“Disappear,” Sirius said, his eyes narrowing, as if trying to peer through the layers of Remus’s carefully constructed facade. “It’s like you have this uncanny ability to slip away just when we’re all trying to draw you in.”

“I’m not trying to slip away,” he argued weakly, though he could feel the truth of the words skating uncomfortably close to the surface. Anxiety sparked within him, rivaled only by the sudden relief of being near Sirius.

“Then what is it?” Sirius pressed, his voice low and steady, etched with an urgency that made Remus’s breath catch. “If you’re not slipping away, then why do you keep putting distance between us? Between you and everyone else?”

Remus opened his mouth and then closed it again, caught in the web of his own thoughts, spinning like a trapped moth.

It was a delicate dance they were performing, one that had begun long before this evening, a rhythm forged in shared laughter and late-night conversations, woven through with the threads of unacknowledged feelings. Remus’s heart thudded with an intensity that bordered on reckless as he searched for a response.

“I—I just…What do you want me to say?” Remus finally managed, his voice breaking. “That I don’t feel like I belong? That I’m just waiting for you all to realize that I’m not as interesting as you’ve made me out to be?”

Sirius's expression softened, the sharp edges of his demeanor blurring into something more tender. He stepped a bit closer. “Remus, that’s not—”

Remus recoiled slightly, a defensive reaction ignited by Sirius’s unyielding attempts to crack him open. “And for fuck’s sake, I hate being around so many people. It’s always the pub or a crowded room at a party and I go, I go because you—” he cut himself off. “I go and it’s not enough.”

He felt like his armor had cracked and all his blood and guts were on display. Sirius was staring like he was trying to decipher a code and Christ, he was so gorgeous doing it.

“It is enough. Come on,” Sirius urged, his voice firm yet reassuring. He stepped forward decisively, reaching out to clasp Remus's wrist with a gentle but insistent grip, just as he had done earlier. Their feet scoffed on the pavement as they moved toward the sprawling university campus together.

“Where are we going?” Remus questioned feeling thrown off by the abrupt change.

Sirius offered a small, enigmatic smile, “I know a place.”

As they traversed the paths of Hogwarts, the stone buildings loomed overhead, their shadows pooling like dark ink on parchment. The moonlight spilled between the ivy-draped walls, illuminating their journey with a silver sheen that felt almost ethereal. Remus dared glance sideways at Sirius, whose expression looked like a child opening a present on Christmas morning.

Each step felt like a promise, a silent pact woven into the fabric of the night. They passed through the archway leading to the Astronomy Tower, its silhouette cutting sharply against the backdrop of stars that twinkled like scattered diamonds across velvet. The heavy wooden door creaked slightly as Sirius pushed it open, revealing the spiral staircase winding upward.

Sirius ascended ahead, his form silhouetted against the pale glimmer of starlight filtering through the windows. Remus lingered for a moment on the threshold, his heart pounding with something that felt raw and uncontained. He took a deep breath and forced his feet to move

When they reached the top, Sirius sat in their usual spot on the floor and tapped the space beside him as a silent invitation. Remus sank down, a sliver of air between their bodies.

“Look at that one,” Sirius murmured, pointing toward a cluster of stars that sparkled with a fierce brilliance. “It’s called Lyra. Can you see how it forms a lyre?”

Remus nodded absently, his thoughts tangled.

“What do you see?” Sirius asked after a moment, his eyes still trained on the lights that danced above them. “When you look at the stars, I mean.”

“Peace,” he whispered. “Sometimes it feels like all the chaos of the world fades, and it's just me and the vast, endless sky. A reminder that there's something larger than myself out there.”

Sirius turned to him, an expression of understanding draping over him like a well-worn blanket. “And what about the chaos?” he inquired gently. “What does that feel like?”

“It feels… suffocating.” He swallowed hard, words spilling forth almost against his will. “Like I am drowning. But here, in the quiet of the night? It’s different. I can breathe.”

Sirius shifted closer, an unspoken reassurance radiating between them.

“I get that. Sometimes when I miss my brother I talk to his star. At least when I can see it. Otherwise, I just stare at the patch of sky where I know it is and speak to the idea of it. I know it sounds stupid, but we…we used to be inseparable and I miss him. Feels like it’s the only piece of him I have left.”

Remus was torn, words eluding him as he grappled with the promise he'd made to Reg. Yet, seeing the sadness etched on Sirius' face was painful to witness. He felt the weight of his loyalty pulling him in two directions. He leaned over and rested his head on Sirius' shoulder, seeking solace in the quiet connection. They remained like that for several minutes, each moment a battle within him, until the silence was finally shattered once more.

“Did you know that it’s believed that nearly every star has at least one planet that orbits it?” The air was so cold that Remus could see the words released from Sirius’ mouth in small white puffs like clouds.

“That makes a lot of sense to me actually.” Remus practically sighed.

“Oh, and why is that?”

“You are a force of nature, only makes sense that you would have planets revolving around you.”

This made Sirius smile, but it was one that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“That’s a nice sentiment but Sirius has no planets. Sometimes I get this horrible ache in my gut like that is how I am destined to live out my life.”

“Like what?” Remus breathed out.

“An isolated star, burning too bright, scorching anything that dares to stick too close, doomed to live out my days alone,” Sirius said just above a whisper almost like he was afraid if he said it too loud he might speak this reality into existence right then and there.

“Well, I may not be an astronomer, but I know for a fact that notion is completely unfounded.”

“How could you possibly know something like that?”

“I am your planet. I think I’m just here existing, revolving around you, held in place by your gravity.” Maybe he should feel embarrassed for letting the words tumble from his lips so nonchalantly, but Remus couldn’t find it within himself.

“No, you are my Moony and sadly moons do not orbit the stars, they orbit planets. One day, you’re going to realize that and you will find your planet and I will watch.”

“Sirius…” It felt like the frigid air had crept into Remus’ chest, spiderwebbing its way down his lungs threatening to shatter them if he dared speak any more than his name.

“It’s ok Moons, my loneliness is a fact that I came to terms with long ago and how can I complain when I get such a lovely view of the moon anytime I want?”

Remus couldn’t find the words. They seemed to be lodged in his throat, sticking to the back of his teeth, refusing to escape his mouth. He loved being Sirius’ moon, but he also wanted to be his planet, his world, his constant revolving reminder of the feelings he had for him.

Sirius had spoken the words with such assurity that there was no question that he believed them. Remus couldn’t stand it. As the words replayed in his brain, he felt like he was crawling out of his skin.

“Sirius... I...” Remus squeezed his eyelids shut and felt the stinging that had suddenly taken up residence in his eyes.

He opened them just in time to see Sirius tilt his head down to meet his eyeline. The look was imploring, practically begging Remus to prove him wrong somehow. Remus wasn’t sure if it was the cold or Sirius’ gaze that finally froze him solid. He was burning. Burning from the cold, burning from Sirius’ words that cut deep, burning from the need to breathe, burning from the sheer want he had for his star.

When the need finally overpowered any doubts that he still had, Remus lifted his face from where he was still pressed into Sirius’ shoulder until he was hovering right in front of him. He felt the quick intake of breath from the boy mere centimeters away.

“Is this okay?” Remus barely recognized his own voice, unsure if the words had even left his mouth. But Sirius nodded a silent confirmation. Remus cupped his face, his thumb gently brushing over the softness of his lips; testing the boundaries of the moment.

He leaned in until his lips ghosted over Sirius’ when he confessed, “I think about kissing you all the time.” There was a moment of panic in which he realized he couldn’t stuff the words back into his mouth. Before he had time to spiral, he received a response.

Remus felt the faint scrape of delicate eyelashes as Sirius' eyes drifted shut.

“Please–kiss me.”

Summoning his courage, Remus closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Sirius'. Their kiss began tentatively, then quickly grew into something more fervent. Remus felt a fiery sensation, every nerve ending alive with energy. They briefly pulled apart, faces flushed and breaths ragged, foreheads touching as their breath mingled in the chilly night air.

Remus leaned in again, capturing Sirius' lips. His hands roamed over Sirius' torso, feeling the shape of his shoulders and chest through the thick layers of clothing.

The cold air seemed to vanish, replaced by the warmth of their bodies pressed close. Sirius pulled back slightly, panting as he trailed his mouth along Remus' jaw and down his neck, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth.

Remus tilted his head back, granting better access. His fingers dug into Sirius' back, pulling him even closer. The embrace deepened, mirroring the rush of emotions swirling between them. Remus felt himself caught in Sirius' gravity, helplessly drawn in by an inexorable force. He pulled him back into a kiss tracing the edge of Sirius' mouth with his tongue, savoring the taste. Sirius responded with equal eagerness, his fingers threading through Remus' curls, tugging just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through him. The slight sting made sparks of heat race down his spine. Remus gasped into the kiss, allowing Sirius to deepen it, and for a moment, he felt weightless—untethered from everything but the pull between them.

Eventually, Remus broke away and Sirius' eyes remained closed, as if he were afraid to open them.

“Seems like you are the first star to have a moon in your orbit.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, mate. Just tell me,” James pleaded. “You’ve been smiling all day. Plus, you were even unusually nice to Wormy during breakfast this morning.”

“Haven’t the faintest what you’re on about,” Sirius replied with a nonchalant shrug, though the warmth creeping into his cheeks betrayed him, a subtle blush that spoke volumes of the secrets swirling within his mind.

James narrowed his eyes in mock accusation as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You can never keep a secret from me for long, Pads. Something happened. It is written all over your face. Might as well just come out with it.” His words dripped with playful insistence.

“You’re imagining things,” he murmured, feigning indifference as he ran a hand through his hair in an effort to regain some composure.

“Interesting, because Remus had a very different story when he got back to the dorm last night,” James said in a sing-song voice. “Thought you would want to tell me for yourself, but I guess I’ll have to stick with his version of events.”

Any composure he had managed was completely lost at these words. “What?! There’s no way Moony told you anything. He is entirely too secretive to blab to you.” Sirius said, cursing himself at admitting there was indeed something to blab about.

“Oh, but he did,” James teased, a smirk spreading across his face. “He might have even let slip a detail or two about your little rendezvous.”

Sirius squirmed slightly, the playful banter prickling at his nerves, yet there was an undeniable thrill underlying that discomfort—a spark igniting deep within him. “You can’t just take his vague words and twist them into some misbegotten narrative! What could he possibly say to implicate—”

“Implicate? He didn’t need to,” James interrupted, clearly enjoying the situation. “You should’ve seen the way his cheeks flared up when I asked about you two. He was as red as a beetroot. So tell me, was it a simple little peck or something more scandalous?”

Normally, Sirius would be chomping at the bit to tell James everything. But this—this felt different. He had been waiting for this moment for months, and he wanted it to be just theirs for a little while. Plus, he knew that Remus was an intensely private person, and he very much doubted that he would appreciate details of their first kiss to be broadcasted to his dorm mate. But what if James was telling the truth? What if Remus had already told him what had happened?

“Nothing scandalous took place, Prongs. ‘Fraid you are reading into things too much.” Sirius tried deflecting again.

James scooted to the edge of his bed to look at Sirius full on where he was seated at the desk chair. “Really? So I’m just reading into the fact that you just happened to wear his favorite jumper last night?”

“Yep,” Sirius said, popping the ‘p’ with an exaggerated head nod.

“And you dedicating a Bowie song to the moon?” James went on.

“Yep,” Sirius echoed his previous response, tilting his chair on its back two legs, attempting to remain casual.

“And you leaving the pub at the same time?” James asked, leaning forward even more.

“Yep,” Sirius said again, though he felt like he was walking into a trap.

“And Remus coming home late with a love bite on his neck?” James looked like he had just won a footie match, a satisfied grin overtaking his face.

No sooner had the words left James’ mouth than Sirius felt the chair lean back a tad too far, causing him to crash to the floor. The thud echoed through the cramped dorm room, causing James to erupt into laughter.

“Are you alright?” James called out between fits of giggles, leaning over, curiosity glimmering in his eyes like a child discovering treasure. “I knew you were head over heels for the bloke, but I didn’t think of it quite so literally.”

"Brilliant, mate! Really subtle there," Sirius snapped, half-joking but with an edge of genuine frustration. He pushed himself up from the floor, dusting off his jeans while trying to suppress a smile that crept onto his face despite himself. “You didn’t have to make me look like a fool, you know.”

James feigned innocence, hands raised in mock submission. “I’m just an innocent bystander in all this! It’s not my fault you’re clumsily in love.” As he settled back onto the edge of the bed, that cheeky smile still danced across his features, revealing the delight he found in his friend’s discomposure.

Sirius rolled his eyes and leaned against the desk, arms crossed defiantly over his chest. “Remus didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

“Not a word,” James admitted. “That boy is an absolute vault. Knew I’d crack you though.”

Sirius sighed, a mixture of irritation and amusement. His heart raced with the thrill of discovery, yet he was painfully aware of the fragility of this new connection with Remus. “You’re insufferable,” he remarked, unable to keep the faintest smile from tugging at his lips.

“But you love me for it,” James shot back, flashing his trademark grin that radiated warmth and unwavering friendship. The bond they shared was steadfast, built on years of trust and camaraderie, and Sirius valued that deeply.

“Yeah, well—just don’t go spreading anything around. He’ll bolt before we even have a chance to even start anything.” He halfway begged.

James waved his hand dismissively, the mirthful glint in his eyes betraying his sincerity. “Relax, Padfoot. I have no intention of ruining your budding romance. I’m well acquainted with Remus’ need for emotional space.” He said as he flopped back on the bed.

Sirius allowed himself to breathe, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Yet deep within him lingered a flurry of emotions—excitement, fear, and an unshakeable desire to protect what he had with Remus. It was as if he were standing at the edge of a precipice.

“You know,” Sirius said, breaking the thoughtful silence that had crept back into their conversation, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” The admission slipped past his lips before he could rein it in.

James sat up, his previous levity momentarily replaced by a seriousness that was more akin to their past late-night heart-to-heart discussions. “Sounds big. I’ve never heard you talk about someone the way you talk about him,” he remarked thoughtfully, his tone muted as he processed Sirius’ words.

Sirius swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his own truth settle within him. “It’s terrifying,” he admitted.

James regarded him with a penetrating gaze, the kind that sought to understand rather than judge. “Terrifying can be good, you know. It means something matters.”

“It matters,” Sirius echoed, but the uncertainty threaded through his voice was unmistakable. “But what if I mess it up? What if he decides I’m not worth the trouble?”

The light danced across James’ glasses as he tilted his head side to side, seemingly mulling over how to respond. “You know, I haven’t know Remus as long, but I think he’s proper mad about you. I see how he gravitates to you in every situation, the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking, and there is no hiding how red he gets every time your name comes up.”

Sirius thought back to the previous night when Remus told him that he was his moon. He knew Remus didn't say things lightly. But he also meant what he had said. His parents had always made him feel unworthy of love, and the rift with Regulus reinforced that belief. The Potters were the only people who had ever shown him love. But it was different, familial in nature. Romantic love was something different entirely.

“What if he sees me for who I really am?” Sirius murmured, half to himself, as he stared at the scuffed wooden floor, his mind racing through memories of family dinners filled with biting remarks and cold silences. “What if he finds out I’m just... broken?”

“You don’t think Remus thinks the same thing? It’s not my place to share anything that he hasn’t said himself, and it’s not like I know a lot of details anyway, but it’s like I’ve said before, I think there is a reason you two are so connected.” James continued, his voice steady and reassuring, "Everyone has their struggles, and I think you and Remus have faced more than most. But it seems there is a natural understanding between you two that most will probably never fully grasp. It pains me that you have to bear this burden, but maybe sharing it might ease it a bit."

“Christ, you should study psychology or something. You are quite good at this whole talking to people thing.” Sirius chuckled, albeit half-heartedly.

“It’s just a knack I’ve picked up from being your friend for so long,” James replied, his tone lightening as he returned to his usual fun-loving demeanor. “Part of my charm.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again, but it was more for show than true annoyance. He appreciated the reprieve from the heaviness of their earlier conversation.

“Enough about me, let’s talk about something else,” he declared, deliberately shifting the focus away from his thoughts and uncertainties.

James brightened at the change in topic. “Alright, then—holiday plans! You know my parents are hosting us over the break. They’re so excited to see you.”

“I can’t wait for Effie’s sausage pasties. I’ve had dirty dreams about them.” Sirius mused.

James laughed, the sound reverberating like a joyful bell, ringing through the quiet room. “Just remember to keep your dreams to yourself in front of my mother! She is too pure for your culinary fantasies.”

Sirius grinned, images of the Potter home flooding his mind—warmth and laughter spilling from every corner, the scent of baked goods wafting through the air, mingling with the sound of James’ parents chiding them playfully for their endless antics. It was a haven, a reminder that family could be chosen rather than inherited.

“Please tell me we are going to do more than sit in front of the telly watching old Christmas movies,” Sirius said, only half jokingly.

“Oh, but that’s a cornerstone of any good winter break! But fear not, dear Pads, there will be more than just reruns and pastries. Thought we could do a bit of ice skating. It’s always a laugh watching you wobble around on the ice, flailing like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time," James teased.

Sirius feigned indignation, knowing full well that James’ description was incredibly accurate. “I’ll have you know that I am quite graceful on the ice—like a swan.” He paused, tapping his chin as if in deep thought. “A very rebellious swan, perhaps.”

James snorted, the laughter bubbling up from within him like a fountain, as if Sirius had just made the most outrageous joke. “A rebellious swan—it’s an image I can get behind. But let’s face it: however graceful you may think you are, I’ll be there to capture every glorious fall on camera.”

“Dare you,” Sirius warned playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he narrowed his eyes in mock threat.

“You know it’s all in good fun! Besides,” he continued, leaning closer as if divulging a great secret, “I haven’t figured out what to get Remus as a Christmas gift yet. A picture of you on your arse seems like the perfect present.”

"That’s it, Potter! You’ve gone too far!" Sirius bellowed as he dove on top of James. They tussled on the bed in a tangle of arms and laughter, their scuffle filling the room with the familiar echoes of childhood play-fights.

“Alright, alright! Truce!” James gasped, throwing up his hands in surrender as he fought to catch his breath. “But only if you promise to spare me from your swan impressions or I might be forced to reconsider my friendship with a flailing bird.”

“For you, Prongs, I shall keep my swan in check,” he conceded with mock solemnity, raising an eyebrow as if weighing the gravity of such a promise. “But only if you vow to take me to Honeydukes after we go skating.”

James's face brightened at the mention of the beloved sweet shop. “Deal! Just don’t go trying to eat all of them at once like you did last year. I still remember the sugar crash you had—you were practically indistinguishable from a rock for two days.”

“Indeed, but what a glorious rock I was,” Sirius countered with a grin, leaning back against the headboard.

The door swung open, and in walked Remus, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush that hinted at the chill of the evening air. He was wrapped in an oversized cream colored knit jumper that hung loose around his shoulders.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, his voice laced with a teasing lilt that belied the exhaustion etched on his features. The hint of a smile danced at the corners of his mouth, a subtle acknowledgement of their mischief.

“Not at all!” James said, “We were just discussing Sirius’ graceful ice skati—”

His words were abruptly cut short by Sirius smacking him in the gut.

“We were just discussing winter break plans.” Sirius supplied instead. “Anyway, where have you been?”

“I had a shift at the library, and then I stopped by the common room to call a friend,” Remus replied, peeling off his woolly hat and shaking out his curls.

Sirius's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Remus, his soft features illuminated by the warm glow of the room. He quickly softened his teasing tone, a more genuine curiosity threading its way through his words. “A friend? Someone back home?”

“Sort of,” Remus started as he kicked off his shoes and settled onto his bed. “That’s where we met, but he lives here in London now.”

“Grant?” James asked. “How’s he been? He should come ‘round soon. He’s a good lad.”

“We were talking about getting together over break since I’m staying here. ”What day are you leaving?” Remus asked.

“Sorry,” Sirius cut in, his voice steady despite the flutter of unwarranted jealousy in his chest. “How do you know this bloke, Prongs?”

James shrugged, his expression light and untroubled as he considered the question. “He stayed with us for a night at the start of term, and the three of us went for a fry up the next morning before he had to leave.”

Sirius’s brow furrowed slightly. “He stayed here? What, on the floor?”

Remus wrapped his arms around his drawn-up knees as if he was preparing to protect himself. “No, he shared my bed.”

“Shared your bed?” The words slipped from his lips, laden with an edge that surprised even him. He tried to mask it with humor but failed—there was an uncharacteristic tightness in his voice, as if every syllable had been pulled taut like a bowstring.

“Yeah,” Remus replied, lifting his chin defensively, an instinctive wall rising around him. “We are friends, Sirius. I wasn’t about to relegate him to the floor. Do you have a problem with that?”

His eyes searched Sirius's face for understanding, but there was a flicker of something else, something faintly wounded beneath that calm exterior.

Jealousy prickled at his insides, gnawing away at the threads of reason. He swallowed hard against it, but the bitterness coiled tighter around his resolve, and he floundered for an appropriate response.

"Just didn’t know you made a habit of sharing your bed with people, is all," Sirius snipped. He knew he was overreacting. At the start of term, he had barely known Remus, let alone his history. Maybe nothing had ever happened between them—maybe they were just friends. It wasn’t as if he and James had never shared a bed before. And even if there was something between them, it shouldn’t matter. He had past relationships of his own; he had no room to judge.

Remus’s expression froze, caught between surprise and hurt. Sirius felt a pang of regret blossom within him—a flicker of awareness that he had crossed an invisible line.

“Are you serious?” Remus asked, his voice hard, tinged with disbelief. He shifted slightly, withdrawing into himself as if seeking refuge from the sudden tension in the room. “What the fuck is your problem?”

James, who seemed to sense the temperature drop in the room like a storm cloud gathering overhead, leaned forward, his cheerful demeanor faltering as he interjected. “Alright, lads, let’s take a step back here. This isn’t—”

“No, it’s fine,” Remus interrupted sharply, cutting off James’ attempt at mediation. The tension was palpable now. His voice softened slightly, but it still held an edge. “I want to know what his issue is.”

Sirius flinched at the bite in Remus's tone, feeling the weight of the words hang heavily in the air between them. A mixture of regret and the raw jealousy that flared within him like an unwelcome flame.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” Sirius started, but the words fell flat against the tension tangling around them.

“Didn’t mean what?” Remus challenged

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but the words lodged like stones in his throat. He shifted his eyes between James and Remus, not sure if he was silently asking for help or space.

"Right, well, I told Lily I’d meet her at the dining hall," James said, sliding off the bed. He quickly put on his shoes and grabbed his coat before heading for the door. Just as he reached it, he paused, glancing back at them. "Just play nice, yeah?"

With that, he made his exit, the door clicking shut behind him.

Remus turned his gaze away from Sirius and instead stared at the worn fabric of his duvet.. The corners of his mouth tightened, forming an almost imperceptible frown that tugged at Sirius's heart.

Tentatively, Sirius ambled off James’ bed and made his way toward Remus’, half-unsure if he was welcome. His heart lurched at the sight of the love bite adorning Remus’ neck. The way Remus sat now—knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself—felt worlds apart from the way he had been last night, and he knew it was his fault.

“Remus,” he murmured, his voice softer now, stripped of bravado. He took a cautious step closer, heart racing as he searched for the right words, the ones that could bridge this widening gulf. “I didn’t...”

He faltered again, the vulnerability clawing at his chest.

After a stretch of silence, Remus echoed his earlier question. “You didn’t mean what?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to imply… to make you feel like you had to justify anything,” he finally managed, though the tremor in his voice betrayed the turmoil raging within him. “I’m—”

“I didn’t jump down your throat when I found out you and Mary had dated. You’re still friends with her. You don’t even know anything about Grant—you just assumed," Remus said, his voice tight. "And yes, I’ve been with Grant, but it wasn’t like that when he came to visit. He came because… it doesn’t even matter." He exhaled sharply, still refusing to meet Sirius’ eyes. "I barely knew you back then anyway. I shouldn’t have to defend my friendships to you."

“Remus,” he whispered again, willing the name to carry the weight of his sincerity—an olive branch offered in hopes of smoothing the rift he had unwittingly carved. “You’re right—I jumped to conclusions, and I’m sorry.”

Sirius watched as Remus slowly uncurled himself and pushed himself to his feet, a bit unsteady on his leg. For a moment, he thought Remus might step closer—but instead, he turned and headed for the door. It had taken months to get Remus to open up, and now Sirius could feel it slipping away in seconds. Panic bubbled in his gut. How had he managed to mess this up in a single conversation?

Desperate, he reached out, fingers brushing against Remus’ wrist—only for Remus to snatch his arm away the moment they made contact.

“Don’t touch me,” Remus spoke the words with an icy detachment, yet Sirius could see the tremor that betrayed his own conflicted emotions. He had to fix this right now.

Remus turned away again and started walking. Sirius didn’t think—he just moved, quickly catching up to him by the door. He reached out, his fingers barely grazing Remus’ back, when in an instant, Remus spun around, seizing Sirius’ wrists and shoving them above his head, pinning him against the wall. His grip was secure—firm enough to assert control but not to inflict pain.

Remus leaned forward until his forehead pressed against his. The tension between them shifted at that moment. Every nerve in Sirius’ body seemed acutely aware of the electric energy sparking between them. It was as though the world evaporated, and all that remained was the singular intensity of their suspended desire.

“Touch me then,” Sirius whispered, the plea slipping out softly, raw and vulnerable, and hanging in the dim light like a fragile promise.

In response, Remus closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. With deliberate care that bordered on torment, Remus shifted his head, his lips ghosting along Sirius’ jaw and kindling a trail of fire.

“Keep your hands here,” came the quiet order as Remus released his hold, and Sirius felt the light, almost imperceptible caress of his fingers meandering down his arms. The sensation was delicate. Then Remus’ hands found their place on his hips, thumbs softly circling the thin fabric of his shirt.

Sirius closed his eyes, his long lashes casting fleeting shadows over his high cheekbones in the dorm room’s half-light while a subtle sound escaped his lips, a fragile noise that beckoned Remus to lean in closer.

Time stretched taut between them, every second loaded with anticipation, as Remus’ hands danced along the rim of the fabric. With measured pace, Remus slid his hands beneath Sirius’ shirt, his cool fingers contrasting starkly with the heat of his skin as each contour was traced with reverence. Sirius felt like Remus was mapping his body.

A quiet thud marked the moment when Sirius’ head fell back against the wall, revealing the elegant line of his throat in all its vulnerability. Remus drank in the view—the sharp angles of Sirius’ features softened by desire, the usual playful defiance replaced by open, pained longing.

Hovering so close that his lips nearly brushed Sirius’ throat, Remus was a breath away, his presence overwhelming. Sirius’ pulse pounded beneath his skin, quick and unsteady, as if speaking in a language only Remus could understand. A single, soft kiss landed in the hollow of Sirius’ throat, and a soft moan slipped from his mouth. Remus moved his way upward, trailing kisses that coaxed gentle twists and squirming subtleties from his body.

Sirius’ arms, still confined above his head, twitched with the desire to reach out. Remus watched with a quiet satisfaction at the obedience in Sirius’ silence, his fingers continuing their exploration along Sirius’ contours, teasing along the ridges of his ribs and the planes of his chest.

When Remus’ fingernails scraped across his nipples, a strangled gasp escaped him, and he arched involuntarily into the contact. The repeated motion was an unspoken conversation—a silent exchange of admiration and need.

“Moons,” Sirius panted, his voice echoing both command and a pleading prayer. “Please, please, please.”

Remus pulled back for a heartbeat, his eyes carefully studying the transformation on Sirius’ face—the normally cocky expression replaced now by flushed, raw desire—and mused, “So polite when you are like this.” He leaned down again, hovering just out of reach and intensifying the mouth-watering teasing. Sirius’ tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, a signal that bridged the anticipation into unspeakable need, and before long, their mouths met in a kiss that was at once everything and yet too little.

Their kiss deepened, tongues exploring and teasing, while Remus pressed Sirius more firmly against the wall. Sirius’ arms trembled above as he strained to remain in place, the struggle a testament to his eagerness to please Remus.

“You’re doing so well,” Remus murmured, his voice soft yet insistent. “What do you want?”

A gentle blush warmed Sirius’ features as he searched his own inhibited longing. “Your mouth…please,” he managed, his words trembling with a mix of submission and desperation.

“Where?” Remus asked hungrily.

“Everywhere,” Sirius replied, his voice coming out straggled.

A quiet sound of approval passed Remus’ lips before he rewarded the honesty with a tender bite on Sirius’ neck, softening any sting with his tongue. He brushed his lips along the shell of Sirius’ ear, softly promising, “As you wish.”

Gently, Remus guided him toward the bed. At its edge, with deliberate care, Remus pushed the fabric of Sirius’ shirt up and over his head, letting it fall softly onto the floor.

As Sirius lay back, Remus straddled his hips, and the mattress dipped under their shared weight. A moment of unvoiced acknowledgment passed between them—a meaningful glance—before Sirius instinctively raised his hands above his head and interlaced his fingers on the pillow.

With quiet confidence, Remus leaned over Sirius and began placing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, each one causing Sirius’ breath to quicken. Remus’ tongue charted intricate patterns along heated skin, like he was savoring the taste, as he continued his slow descent, mapping every inch of Sirius’ torso with careful, adoring attention.

Sirius writhed beneath him, his hands clenching desperately into the pillowcase as he fought to remain still—a futile effort given how his body arched upward, pleading for more. Remus rewarded his obedience with a gentle nip on his hip, drawing a strangled moan from deep within.

“You’re exquisite like this,” Remus murmured softly, his fingertips dancing over the goosebumps that now covered Sirius’ skin.

When Remus reached the waistband of Sirius’ trousers, he paused to look up the length of Sirius’ body, his eyes lingering over him as if committing every detail to memory. “May I take these off?” he asked, his voice in a husky tone.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes,” Sirius replied, his pupils wide with a blend of awe and mounting fervor.

With deliberate care, Remus unfastened the button and slid the zipper down. His fingers glided into the waistband, easing the fabric away as Sirius slightly lifted his hips to help. His trousers were peeled away, joining the discarded shirt on the floor.

“Beautiful,” Remus murmured as he leaned down to press a kiss to the inside of Sirius’ knee. Slowly but surely, he worked his way upward, alternating between lingering kisses and soft nips.

At the last patch of exposed thigh, Remus paused, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. Sirius whimpered softly at the close proximity to where he desperately wanted Remus’ mouth. A reassuring hand appeared on Sirius’ hip, the thumb tracing slow, soothing circles.

“Patience,” Remus murmured.

“Christ, you are such a bloody tease,” Sirius exhaled as he gripped his own hair, trying to ground himself.

Remus chuckled softly as he snapped the band of Sirius’ pants. “And you love every second of it,” he teased.

Sirius inhaled sharply at the snap, his body tensing in response. “You know me too well,” he managed, the faint echo of his usual bravado mixing with vulnerability despite the intensity of the situation.

A wicked smile played on Remus’ lips as his fingers lightly traced the outline of Sirius’ growing arousal through the thin fabric. Sirius’ hips bucked uncontrollably in a bid for more contact.

“Ah, ah,” Remus chided gently as he withdrew his hand. “Stay still.”

Sirius mewled at the sudden loss, his fingers twisting anxiously in his hair as his body trembled with the effort of following instructions.

Leaning back in, Remus’ warm breath fanned over the fabric as he nuzzled against the barely contained bulge, drawing out another strangled moan from Sirius. With painstaking slowness, Remus mouthed along its length, his warm breath seeping through the cotton and igniting every nerve.

Every fiber of Sirius’ being grew taut with the effort of remaining still, his breathing shallow and sharp, punctuated by involuntary whimpers that only deepened the intoxicating atmosphere.

“Please,” Sirius cried out, pushing his head further into the pillow. “Moony, please… I need them off.”

Remus’ response was a low, approving hum as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Sirius’ pants. After a brief, lingering look at Sirius’ expectant face, he removed the remaining garment, adding it to the growing pile on the floor, leaving Sirius entirely exposed and deliciously bare.

Taking his time, Remus lowered his head, his warm breath skimming over Sirius’ length until it twitched under the delicate stimulation. Sirius’ hands clenched and unclenched, his need palpable in every movement.

A feather-light kiss landed on the tip, causing Sirius to gasp in surprise. Remus’ tongue darted out, etching a delicate path along the underside, drawing out a moan from deep within Sirius.

Remus’ warm mouth enveloped him, causing Sirius to snap his eyes shut. With each stroke, Remus seemed to gain more confidence from the noises he was provoking.

“Fuck, Moony,” Sirius gasped, his voice low and rough with need.

Remus hummed in response, the new sensation ripping a chorus of breathless exclamations from Sirius. Remus maintained a maddeningly slow rhythm, leaving Sirius on the precipice of oblivion.

“Tell me,” Remus coaxed during a pause, “What do you need?”

Between ragged breaths, Sirius managed, “Need to touch you.”

A spark passed between them, and Remus looked like he revelled in the honesty of the plea as he ordered, “Put your hands in my hair.”

No sooner had the words been spoken than Sirius’ fingers eagerly threaded into the soft brown curls. Remus leaned into the touch, a quiet groan escaping him when Sirius gave a small tug.

Encouraged, Sirius guided Remus’ head, setting a slightly quicker pace. Remus adapted, relaxing his jaw to take Sirius deeper, a heady mix of sound and movement filling the room with Sirius’ ragged breathing.

“Moony, I’m close,” Sirius gasped, his voice strained with the imminence of release. “So close.”

At those words, Remus intensified his ministrations, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue until a sinful, resonant sound tore free from Sirius. His back arched dramatically off the bed, a strangled cry marking the moment as he came undone, and Remus, ever attentive, continued through every shuddering pulse until Sirius lay spent, panting against the mattress.

Slowly, Remus pulled away, scattering gentle kisses along Sirius’ hipbones as he retraced the path back up his body before placing a tender kiss on Sirius’ lips. Remus settled beside him on the bed and drew him into his arms. Sirius pressed closer, his breath whispering against Remus’ neck, as they lay in a silken silence, until Sirius’ pulse ebbed to a gentle, harmonious calm.

“That was…” Sirius began, his voice trailing off in wonder and awe.

Remus chuckled softly as he murmured, “Indeed it was.” His tone carried warmth and affection in equal measure.

Sirius tilted his head upward, his eyes dancing with a glimmer of his usual mischievous spark. “Can I return the favor?” he purred softly, his hand trailing down Remus’ chest in inquiry.

With a careful yet determined motion, Remus caught Sirius’ wrist, lifted it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss on it.

“Not tonight, love,” he murmured with gentle finality. “This was for you. I just want you to know that I meant what I said last night.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for being such a prat earlier. I lost it a bit at the thought of you sharing your bed with the bloke.” Sirius answered sincerely.

“Grant is actually the one that told me to stop being daft and tell you how much I fancy you,” Remus said with a half chuckle.

Sirius turned his head to look at Remus. “What? How does he even know?”

Remus gently brushed the hair from Sirius’ face and said, “I usually talk to him once a week. Think it only took three phone calls before he started badgering me to tell you." He let out a small breath, then added, "When I spoke to him today, I told him about last night… well, not everything—just that I finally fessed up and that we kissed.” A soft smile tugged at his lips. “He was happy for me.”

“Sounds like a good lad,” Sirius replied, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest.

“He is,” Remus said earnestly. “Now, can you put your clothes back on so we can go get some food? I’m bloody famished.”

"Famished, you say?" he replied with a teasing lilt, his fingers playfully brushing against Remus' jawline. "What an odd choice of words for someone who just devoured—”

His words were cut off by a kiss. But it was over just as quickly as it started.

“Shut up and put your clothes on, or I’m leaving you here for James to find,” Remus remarked as he moved to get up.

“Christ, didn’t realize until tonight how much I have a thing for you ordering me around,” Sirius replied as he started pulling his clothes back on.

Remus shook his head laughing, “You are a right menace.”

"Too right," Sirius said with a wink, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips as he sauntered toward the door.

Chapter Text

The snow began sometime around midnight. At first, it was just a polite dusting over the roofs and sloped quad paths of Hogwarts. But by morning, it was clear that this wasn't just another chilly inconvenience. Thick, wet flakes battered the tall windows of Gryffindor Hall, already layering the sill like clotted cream. By eight o’clock, the campus bell tower rang out eight chimes before falling silent.

Cocooned in his duvet and favorite tattered cardigan, Remus hunched over a stack of annotated flashcards, squinting at the swirling white beyond the frosted glass. He missed this kind of quiet. No students rushing across the quad, no footsteps crunching over gravel, no voices outside the window. Just wind, and the distant creak of tree limbs surrendering under snow.

However the serenity was quickly shattered by an impatient kick—and then the door burst open.

"Snow!" James announced like he was the one who’d conjured it, grinning beneath a woolly hat and already tracking melting slush across the dorm floor. His cheeks were flushed, his curls damp, and in his arms he carried what appeared to be plastic sledges—bright red and a little worse for wear.

"Are you expecting me to get on one of those?" Remus asked, still blinking at him like the concept had to be translated.

James nodded vigorously, his enthusiasm palpable in the crisp air of the room. “Too right, mate!” James said, plopping the hunks of plastic on the floor. “Can you believe it? Just look at that! It’s perfect for sledging!” He gestured wildly toward the window, snowflakes stuck to his sleeves cascading to the floor like confetti.

“Well, I hate to snow on your parade, but I actually have to—”

“Work?” James cut him off, flashing an all too confident smile. “No, you don’t. Stopped by the library on the way to pick these beauties up, and Avery is on today. It’s Saturday, you have no excuse, I’m afraid, Remus, my boy.”

“Study is what I was going to say.” Remus bit the inside of his cheek, knowing full well that he was going to use work as his excuse and had to pivot being called out on the blatant lie. Besides, he did need to study. Finals were approaching, and he had to maintain his first-class honours to retain his scholarship.

James crossed his arms, undeterred by Remus’s half-hearted protest, with an expression that suggested he found Remus’s reluctance more amusing than anything else. “Sirius is going”, he said, lowering his voice as if sharing an illicit secret, “He’s already outside with Lily waiting for us to go get some breakfast before we start the fun.”

Remus paused, the mention of Sirius igniting a flicker of interest within him. It was strange how simply saying his name could shift the atmosphere, drawing Remus's thoughts away from textbooks and anxiety toward something warmer, something alive. “Sirius?” he echoed softly, as if testing the syllables on his tongue.

James smirked, clearly reading the shift in Remus’s demeanor. “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun! You know he wants you there.”

“Does he?” The question slipped out before Remus could rein it in. He felt a warmth sweep through him, pulsing just beneath the surface, and he quickly masked it with a nonchalance that had long since become second nature. “It’s just sledging, James. I can’t imagine he’d miss me if I stayed here.”

“Right,” he replied, arching an eyebrow and assessing him in the way only James could, intense but not scrutinizing. Remus could tell he was trying to decide how to proceed in order to get him to either divulge some information or cave and agree to come.

James started to say something, but Remus interrupted him. "Listen, James, I'm not going with you. My leg's been bothering me, and trekking through the snow won't do it any good." Remus didn't mention that he'd already taken three painkillers since he woke up. He could see James' face fall with disappointment. Sensing that James wanted to ask something more, Remus decided to preemptively offer an answer instead.

“Was there something else that you wanted to ask?” Remus prompted, already regretting his emotional generosity.

It was obvious that James was not expecting Remus to prolong the conversation by offering an additional question.

“Well, actually, I was wondering how things are between you and Sirius? It’s just that when I left the other day, he was being a bit of a twat, but it seems like things are better between you two.”

Remus had been expecting this. James looked like he was biting his tongue since the exchange had occurred. Remus took a quick breath in and momentarily closed his eyes before replying.

“We made up. Everything’s good now.” He said, returning his gaze to his flashcards.

However, this was the wrong deflection technique because James immediately knew he was avoiding eye contact.

“Care to expand on that?” James replied with an edge of knowing to his voice.

Perhaps it was the eager expression James was wearing, or perhaps it was the fact that Remus did want to tell someone about Sirius; either way, Remus found himself surrendering to the tide of his thoughts.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked, though the question held an uncertainty laced beneath its surface.

He watched as James’s eyes widened, surprise igniting behind his round glasses as he scrambled to sit on the bed with Remus. James grinned, leaning in closer, enthusiasm radiating from him like sunlight through the snow-laden branches outside.

Remus feigned a roll of his eyes, trying to hide the flutter of anticipation that danced in his chest. "Like I mentioned," he started cautiously, giving James a significant glance, "we... made up," he added, clearing his throat after the last words.

James gestured with his hands in a motion that signaled for Remus to carry on. His eagerness was palpable as he beckoned for more before Remus changed his mind. “But how? What happened? Did you talk it out?”

Regret settled in Remus’ cheeks in the shade of crimson. Grant had a way of just knowing exactly what was going on in his mind, so he never really had to articulate much. He knew it wasn’t a fair comparison—he had known Grant for years and James only months. Still, he could feel his tongue getting thick and the overwhelming desire to retreat into himself. He just had to spit it out.

“We, uh… yeah, we talked a bit.” He finally managed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Sounds like there is a bit more to that answer,” James pressed.

Remus took a breath in and pushed out the words as fast as he could, “Sometimes I just find it easier to express what I’m feeling in a non-verbal way.”

To this, James simply raised one eyebrow as a silent question.

“Like physical communication.” Remus provided, hoping that would be explanation enough.

A slow grin spread across James’ face as realization dawned upon him. “Ah, so that’s how you two sorted it out.” His tone held a teasing inflection, “So you’ve found your own language, have you?”

Remus’s cheeks flushed deeper, “It’s not—” he started, but the protest died on his lips as the truth wrestled with his reluctance.

“It’s not what?” James interjected, clearly trying his best not to laugh about Remus’ struggle to form words.

“Probably time for you to leave now, don’t you think? I’m sure the others are getting tired of waiting on you.”

James chuckled, unabashedly entertained by Remus's discomfort. “Oh, come on, mate! You can’t just drop that and expect me to leave now!” He leaned back against the bedpost, arms crossed, as though settling in for a prolonged debate. Remus’ anxiety hung thick in the air like the clouds outside, heavy with unfallen snow.

He turned his attention back to the flashcards, desperate for their familiar structure to ground him. The words blurred together as he fought a rising tide of embarrassment. “I really like him, and I can’t really explain it because I’ve only known him for a bit. But…I don’t know, when I’m with him, it kind of feels like I’ve always known him. He just makes me feel at ease in a way that…” He cut the rush of words off abruptly, realizing he had spoken much more than he had intended. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

James’s eyes widened, a bewildered expression overtaking his features as if he had not expected Remus to provide any detail, let alone make such a confession. “Wait, hold on,” he said, his words gentle. “Remus, have you told him how you feel?”

“Can I ask you something?” Remus asked partly because he genuinely wanted James’ perspective and partly to avoid answering his question.

“Of course,” James replied, his tone shifting to one of sincere interest. “What’s on your mind?”

Remus hesitated, trying to think about how to phrase his words in a way to not give anything away. “Do you think it is okay to keep something from someone that involves them but isn’t your secret to tell?”

James regarded him thoughtfully, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered Remus's question. “You know I would never tell Sirius what you share with me,” he said slowly. “You know that, right?”

Remus nodded absently. The weight of his Reggie secret felt heavier now, a tangible thing versus the swirling uncertainty that had wrapped itself around him. “It's not about that,” he murmured, still avoiding the intensity of James's gaze. “I…I, um, have these two people in my life that are both very important to me, but they have a history that I don’t fully know. One of them asked me to keep a piece of information to myself. I think if this other person knew, they would be upset, but James, I really don’t think it is my place to break this promise.”

James tilted his head, brow still scrunched, as if he were peeling back layers of understanding to reach the core of Remus’s hesitation. “I don’t suppose…” he began, but then paused, processing. “I don’t suppose you can tell me any more than that?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably, “I just feel caught in between, and I don’t want to hurt either person.”

“Right, well, do you trust both of these people?” James asked, trying to regain eye contact.

“Completely,” Remus said without even needing to think about it for a second.

James nodded, the wheels of his mind turning as he absorbed Remus's words. “Then maybe it’s about finding a way to navigate that trust. Communication is key, you know? It doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing situation,” he suggested.

Remus bit his lip, contemplating the nuances of James's advice. “But what if it feels like betraying one of them?” The question hung between them like a delicate thread, fraying at the edges.

“Betrayal isn’t simply about sharing truths; it’s about intentions and care,” James replied. “Maybe try talking to the person who asked you to keep the secret. See if you can find out a little bit more about why it is important to them. If they have a good reason, then you know that keeping their secret is probably for the best.”

"Perhaps," he whispered, running a finger along the rim of a flashcard, though his mind was far from academics. Instead, he was preoccupied with figuring out how to convince Regulus to not only inform Sirius that he attended the same school but also that they had become close friends. “James, I just want you to know that—”

The door swung open, and there stood Lily, her red hair glistening with flecks of snow, followed closely by Sirius, who was shaking off flakes like a dog emerging from the rain. They were both breathless, their cheeks flushed, vibrant with excitement and the cold.

“Honestly, what’s taking you two so long?” Lily teased, melodic yet laced with impatience. “We are going to be buried in snow by the time you two make it out.”

James shot Remus a triumphant look before leaping from the bed and turning his attention to Sirius. “Just trying to convince him to come sledging, but perhaps he could use another voice of reason.”

“Moony,” Sirius said in a singsong melody, “you wouldn’t want to make me get on my knees and beg now, would you?” He punctuated the statement with an exaggerated pout, one that was both playful and inviting, as if daring Remus to take the bait.

He opened his mouth to respond but found himself momentarily struck silent. After potentially too long, he cleared his throat and managed a single word, “can’t.”

Sirius’s expression shifted slightly, an impish quality overtaking his expression as he turned to face James and Lily. “You two don’t need to wait around for him if he’s going to be all stubborn,” he said with an easy grin. “Why don’t you head for breakfast? I’ll catch up with Moony here.”

James looked between them, half-convinced, half-amused. “Are you sure? Because if I go without him—”

“Go on!” Sirius insisted, waving a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” James relented, still laughing as he gathered the sledges back into his arms. “Just don’t keep him too long, mate. We’re counting on you to get him out of that cocoon.”

“Off we go!” Lily chimed in, her smile brightening the winter gloom. She waved cheerily at Remus before nudging James out the door. “See you lot in a bit!”

With their laughter trailing behind them, the door clicked shut, leaving a palpable quiet in its wake.

“Are you really going to stay cooped up in here all day?” Sirius asked, breaking through the stillness as he slowly made his way across the room before stopping at Remus’ bed and sliding his shoes off.

“Yeah, I think I am,” he replied, the words slipping out with a stubbornness he hadn’t quite meant to impart.

“Please,” Sirius continued, putting one knee on Remus’ bed, his voice dropping lower, softer. “I promise it’ll be fun.” He flashed him a grin, the corners of his lips turning up like a crescent moon breaking through dark clouds.

Remus bit down on his lower lip, searching the depths of his brain for any sane thought, but all he could focus on was the way one strand of hair was falling perfectly over Sirius’ face. While he was distracted, Sirius edged closer, his knee pressing against the soft duvet before he swung a leg over Remus' lap, positioning himself directly above.

Remus shifted beneath Sirius, an involuntary tension coiling around his heart as he took in the challenge glimmering in Sirius’ grey eyes. There was something intoxicating about the way Sirius leaned in, unyielding and playful, a predator testing the resolve of its prey. The air grew thick, each moment stretching like taffy, and Remus could feel the warmth radiating from Sirius' body.

“Moons,” Sirius murmured, his words rich with persuasion, “you can’t tell me that you truly want to miss out on all this.” He gestured toward the window.

Remus felt his body act on its own, lifting him so he was chest to chest with Sirius, their breaths mingling. He slid his hand up Sirius' back, over his neck, and settled his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He grasped the hair lightly, giving it a gentle tug as he replied, "There's definitely something I don't want to miss out on, and it's not the snow."

Sirius attempted to mask the involuntary sound that slipped from his lips with a question, his voice tinged with a breathiness that betrayed his effort to appear casual. "Yeah, and what exactly is that?" he inquired, his tone failing to convincingly convey nonchalance.

A grin spread across Remus' face, a spark of mischief lighting up inside him as he leaned in to trail gentle kisses along Sirius's jawline, stopping at the sharp edge beneath his ear to tease with a light suckle, savoring the tension between them. Simultaneously, his free hand slid down the length of Sirius's thigh, fingertips grazing the fabric of his trousers before resting on the crease at his hip. Remus could feel Sirius beginning to move slightly, but he used the hand on Sirius' thigh to keep him steady. Pulling away from his jaw, Remus whispered into his ear, “My studying.”

“You’re an absolute bloody tease, you know that?” Sirius breathed with a hint of frustration and amusement. Then, without hesitation, Sirius captured Remus’s lips with fervor, urging him closer. It was sloppy and heated and over about as quickly as it had started. Remus thought it was probably Sirius’ way of showing him exactly what he was missing.

The kiss lingered in the air like the faint taste of chocolate melting on the tongue, sweet yet bitter, as Sirius pulled away.

“So,” Sirius murmured, “what’s it going to be, Moony? Are you going to join me in the snow?”

“How about a compromise?” Remus responded, playing with the curls that were hanging in Sirius’ face. “I’ll go to breakfast with you, but I’ll leave the sledging up to you lot.”

Sirius's smile widened, a triumphant flare igniting in his stormy grey eyes. “Deal,” he said as if managing to get Remus to leave the dorm room was his single greatest accomplishment in life.

As Remus got up from the bed and forcibly shoved his only pair of shoes onto his feet, he watched as Sirius went to his closet and retrieved his woolly hat, scarf, a thick burnt orange jumper, and his blue jumper.

“I know it is cold outside, but I think the orange one will do,” Remus said with a slight chuckle at Sirius’ overpreparedness for the short walk to the canteen.

Sirius paused mid-motion as he held up the blue jumper. “Actually,” he said, “this one’s for me.” He then donned it with an exaggerated flair, pulling it over his head as if it transformed him into a regal figure instead of a small child dressed in an oversized hand-me-down.

“Well, that looks… cozy,” Remus replied, amusement in his eyes as he regarded Sirius.

As they stepped out into the biting cold, the world around them transformed into a sparkling wonderland. Snow crunched beneath their feet as Sirius bounded ahead, his laughter ringing out like a joyful bell, infectious and bright.

Remus watched him for a moment, his heart swelling with affection tinged by an unsettling pang of anxiety. The question of how he could continue pursuing his feelings for Sirius while also keeping Regulus’ secret loomed over him like a dark cloud. The thought gnawed at him, leaving an uneasy tightness in his chest.

“Oi, get a move on!” Sirius called over his shoulder.

With every footfall, Remus made a silent vow that twisted around the uncertainty coiling within him, he would find a way to speak to Regulus about this secret.