Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 1998

☾☾☾

Another school. It's his 5th in the last 2 years. One thing or the other forcing him and his mom to flee. They were good at that, leaving. Running.

Now starting his junior year, Remus Lupin figured out a few things about high school: they were all the same. Same cliques. Same rules. Only different faces with different names.

Today was another first day. He rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and shuffled into the shower. He tried not to hope this school would be any different—he knew better. After stepping out and drying off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His father stared back: crooked nose, tanned skin, and the same expression that used to make Remus flinch. Scars still etched across his body reminded him of nights he couldn't forget. He turned away quickly.

He pulled on a forest green t-shirt, dark denim jeans, cuffed the ankles, and slipped on his brown Chucks. In the kitchen, a note was waiting on the counter:

Already left for work—have a good first day. <3

No surprise. His mom had picked up early shifts at the hospital—better pay. Grabbing a granola bar, he slung his bag over his shoulder, stepped onto his skateboard, and pushed off toward school.

The ride was his favorite part of any day—wind in his face, music in his ears. The Smiths were playing, and for a fleeting moment, he felt... okay. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.

Until a motorcycle nearly blew him off his board.

The rider swerved to avoid him, nearly crashed, then rode off, shaking his head. Remus stared after him, heart pounding.

What a dick.

★★★

Sirius Black was not having a good morning.

First, James woke him up at the ass crack of dawn to go to the gym. Then Regulus hogged all the hot water, leaving him with an ice-cold shower. And his hair—his perfect, glorious curls—were refusing to cooperate no matter what he did.

James and Reg had already left without him, shouting “Don’t be late!” from the car.

Now, Sirius roared down the street on his motorcycle—his pride and joy, bought when he moved in with the Potters. He loved the speed, the wind, the rush, it was freedom in its purest form.

That was, until some guy on a skateboard darted into the street.

Sirius swerved hard, barely keeping control. The dude wore a green shirt, had wild curls, and a death wish, apparently. Sirius shook his head. Who the hell was that?

He made it to the parking lot just in time and parked in his usual spot. He barreled into class and plopped into the empty seat next to James, who was already deep in conversation with Lily. Lily and James began dating at the end of last school year. James had pined after her since they first met in the sixth grade, but she thought he was far too arrogant for his own good. That was until she got her heart broken by her lifelong best friend, Severus Snape. The greasy slimeball told the whole school they had slept together and she was “his bitch.” Safe to say Lily Evans, the strong, independent woman she was, immediately dropped him. While she was crying in an empty classroom, James came by and was just what she needed. After that, the two just clicked. Perfect for one another. Where he was messy, she was organized; where she was neurotic, he was laid back. Sirius had never seen a couple so perfect; they were the type to make you believe in love.

Minerva McGonagall walked into class just as Sirius sat down. His favorite teacher.

“Good morning, students. Welcome to English 11—”

The door creaked open.

In stepped possibly the tallest man Sirius had ever seen. He had short tawny curls and beautifully tanned skin that was spattered in light freckles. And Scars. Three large jagged scars crossed his face, and even more graced his arms. In the boy's left hand was a skateboard.

Him.

The idiot from this morning.

The idiot who nearly got himself killed.

☾☾☾

Remus knew he was late. He also knew this was a nightmare.

The classroom stared as he stepped in, trying not to look at anyone.

“Oh? And who might you be, interrupting my class?”

He directed his eves to the front of the room. A tall frail women with hark hair and caring but stern eyes stood there awaiting his answer. “Um, I’m the new transfer—Remus Lupin.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Lupin. Take the seat in the back, next to Miss Evans.”

He found the desk beside a girl with fiery red hair, emerald eyes, and freckles not unlike his own. In front of her sat probably the most beautiful man he had ever seen. With pale skin and striking grey eyes, this boy had hauntingly beautiful features. His long black hair was artfully tied up into a bun, and he looked completely unbothered.

Remus clambered to the back of the room and set his stuff down as the teacher began her lecture on class expectations. He’d heard it a million times before in every school, the same stupid shit about respecting your peers and turning assignments in on time. He pulled out his notebook and decided to doodle instead of listening. As he drew, he found himself unwillingly drawn to the boy in front of him. Imitating the sharp features on his page. 

When the bell rang, he started to pack up.

“Hi!” said the redhead beside him brightly. “I’m Lily, you’re new here.”

“Hey,” he replied, surprised. “Yeah, I’m new.”

“Well, welcome! What classes are you taking?”

They walked together down the hallway as Remus listed off his schedule. He was taking all the usual subjects but elected to also take an advanced drawing class and a psychology class. 

“Oh, we have Psychology and AP Gov together. Also, you have PE with my boyfriend, James.”

“Cool,” he said. He wasn’t used to friendly people. Moving as much as he had, making friends rarely felt worth it. But Lily seemed genuine. Maybe he wouldn’t have to eat alone every day.

After saying goodbye, he found his next class—Pre-Calc—and sat a few seats away from a now-familiar figure. The dark-haired boy who talked animatedly and drew the attention of everyone around him, relishing in it. Grey eyes met his own with a sharp glare. Remus furrowed his brows. What was that about?

The rest of the day dragged. He ate lunch under the bleachers, smoking a cigarette and listening to Oasis, trying not to think about how much he already hated it here. 

The boy ended up also being in his PE class, where he once again rolled his eyes and huffed at Remus’s presence. What a dick, Remus had done absolutly nothing to him. It was beginning to seem like this school was going to be just like the rest. 

Finally, last period: Advanced Drawing. His one sanctuary.

Remus had been drawing his whole life. It helped after the accident. Helped him regain control of his hands. Helped him escape.

There was a seating chart posted. He groaned—front and center.

He slumped into the seat. Beside him was a boy with a similar bone structure to the asshole from earlier, but with shorter hair and a very different energy—quiet, nervous, and very much not the center of attention.

“Hey. I’m Remus, I’m new,” he said.

The boy didn’t look up. “Clearly. Otherwise, you’d know not to talk to me.”

Remus smirked. “Touchy. What’s your name?”

“Regulus Black.”

“Oh. That’s… a terrible name.”

“And Remus isn’t?”

“Touché.”

Regulus glanced at him, a bit amused. “If you think I’m bad, wait ‘til you meet my brother, Sirius.”

“Are all of you named after stars?”

Regulus blinked. “You know astronomy?”

“A little.”

Regulus actually smiled. “It’s a family thing.”

“Huh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Not so bad, this Regulus.

Remus was almost free when he spotted a small crowd near the parking lot. There, leaning against the bike that almost killed him this morning like some Greek god, was the boy with the long dark hair. It all clicked into place. What a douch. And across from him were Lily, Regulus, and a tall boy with a rats nest of hair, brown skin much darker than his own, round wire glasses, and a crooked smile. Great, the two cool people he met today were friends with the hottest, most insufferable man he had ever laid his eyes on. 

★★★

Sirius was lounging by his bike, regaling the group with a story, when Lily waved excitedly.

“Remus! Remusss!”

Sirius looked up—and there he was. The walking disaster himself, the stupid boy with the stupid skateboard. 

The boy sauntered over, greeting Lily with a grin and nodding at Regulus. Regulus smiled back.

What?

Regulus didn’t like anyone. Who did this guy think he was?

“Guys, this is Remus, you might remember him barging into Minnie's class this morning,” Lily said. “He’s in a few of my classes.”

Oh, Sirius remembered. He remembered the face. The skateboard. The scars. The way he nearly got Sirius killed.

Regulus added, “Oh yeah, Lupin, we have advanced drawing together.”

Remus smirked again and turned to James. “We haven’t met yet, I think.”

James beamed. “James Potter. We’ve got PE together, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Awesome,” James said, already liking him.

Remus nodded at the group. “Nice meeting you all. Gotta run.”

He dropped his board and skated off without sparing Sirius a glance.

No apology. No acknowledgment.

What was this guy’s problem?

Sirius glared after him.

Remus Lupin was infuriating.

Chapter Text

Sirius could not get the infuriating boy out of his head.

The second he got home, he barged into James’s room with a dramatic groan and collapsed onto his bed face-first.

James didn’t even look up from his Spider-Man comic. “What is it now, Pads?”

“That stupid fucking Lupin kid. He’s the one who nearly killed me this morning.”

James turned a page and snorted. “Pretty sure you were the one speeding through traffic on your deathtrap machine.”

“Are you seriously taking his side?”

“I’m just saying,” James shrugged, tossing a pillow at him. “You were the one going 50 down a residential street at 8 a.m.”

Sirius sat up, scowling. “It’s not just the bike thing. There's just something about him that infuriates me. He walks in like he owns the place. With his stupid tanned, freckled skin and those... honey eyes. Befriending Lily , befriending Regulus —my brother , Regulus! He’s just—off. I don’t trust him.”

James raised a brow. “Are you sure this isn’t coming from, I don’t know… jealousy?”

“Me? Jealous?” Sirius scoffed. “Please. I’m way hotter than him.”

James grinned. “Who said anything about him being hot?”

Sirius froze. “Fuck off,” he muttered, pulling a pillow over his suddenly warm face.

James howled with laughter. “Oh, you are so gone.”

☾☾☾

When Remus got home, he found his mom passed out on the couch, soft snores rising from under a thin throw blanket. Her shift had clearly been brutal. Still, there was a calm in her expression that softened his heart.

No matter what happened between her and his father, no matter how long she stayed before leaving, she'd gotten them out—and that had to count for something.

Quietly, he grabbed the crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa and tucked it over her shoulders before retreating to his room.

He spent the rest of the afternoon hunched over his sketchbook, hands smudged with graphite, pages covered in sharp cheekbones, arched brows, and piercing eyes. He didn’t acknowledge who the features belonged to.

He didn’t have to.

—-

The next morning, Remus dressed in a white t-shirt and a brown zip-up hoodie. He grabbed his board and headed out. No near-death experiences this time—just cool wind and silence.

But the peace ended as soon as he rolled into the school parking lot and saw them again: Lily, James, Regulus, and Sirius. This time, a short blond boy stood with them.

As if on cue, Lily caught sight of him and waved.

“Hey, Remus! How are you?”

“I’m alright. You?”

“Wonderful, thanks.” She gave him a bright, genuine smile, then gestured to the newcomer. “This is our friend Peter. He’s usually around, but he had yearbook yesterday.”

“Hey,” Remus offered, adjusting his bag. “I’m Remus. New kid and all that.”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter replied shyly.

Peter seemed harmless, sweet even. Not as loud as the others. James grinned. Regulus sent him a smug little smirk. And Sirius—

One glance was enough. A death glare, dark and direct. Remus didn’t flinch, but he didn’t linger either.

“Well, I’ll see you guys in class,” he said quickly, skating off before anyone could stop him.

Remus spent the morning with his head down and his headphones on, only pulling them off when a teacher directly addressed him. Lily smiled at him in passing. Regulus gave him a nod. Sirius didn’t look his way.

Classes blurred again, like they always did—he couldn't find it in himself to care. By lunchtime, Remus wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Instead, he slipped into the art room and claimed a table in the back corner.

He flipped open his sketchbook, ready to lose himself in lines and shadows. But when he reached for his cassette player, it jammed.

"Fucking of course," he muttered, fiddling with it. It refused to cooperate. That meant no music for the rest of the day and an hour fixing it later. Downsides of clinging to old tech, he supposed.

As he began drawing, a cluster of girls at the front of the room whispered loudly. He ignored them at first—until one name pierced through the haze:

Sirius Black.

Remus stilled, not meaning to care, but now he was listening.

“Yeah, Sirius made the team again. Obviously. He’s literally perfect. How could he not?”

“Shut up, Emmaline. You’re so in love with him.”

“I can’t help it. He’s sexy and mysterious.”

“Please,” another girl chimed in, “he’s not mysterious. He’s just a rich prick. Nothing but trouble.”

Remus smirked to himself. That’s more like it.

Football star. Pretty boy. Probably had a trust fund and a superiority complex. He’d seen the type before.

★★★

Sirius’s second day of school was leagues better than his first.

He cruised through his classes, joked with James and Peter, and didn't spare a thought for Remus Lupin. Not until he passed the bleachers on the way to practice.

There, hidden in the shadow of the stands, was the boy with the scars.

Lupin sat cross-legged, fiddling with something in his hands. Sirius slowed his pace, curiosity edging out common sense. Maybe he could afford to be a few minutes late.

He crept a little closer, trying not to be seen.

Remus was focused entirely on a cassette tape, cursing under his breath as he tried to fix it.

“Motherfucker,” he snapped, slamming it down in frustration.

Then, like muscle memory, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one, and taking a slow drag.

Sirius blinked. The audacity. Smoking? On school grounds?

He’d never smoked. Those things were horrible for you, and Sirius actually cared about his health and well-being. Strong lungs, strong body, all that. But watching Lupin—the way he leaned back, the casual defiance of it—made Sirius want to walk right up, pluck the cigarette from his mouth, and tell him off.

Or maybe... something else.

He shook the thought away.

Just then, two girls passed behind him, chatting too loudly not to overhear.

“Yeah, I heard he went psycho at his old school.”

“I wonder how he got all those scars.”

“He’s so weird. I bet he did it to himself.”

Sirius flinched. He shouldn’t care.

But for some reason, he did.

He cast one last glance back at the boy under the bleachers—scarred, smoking, and silent—then turned and headed for the locker room without a word.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

By the third day of school, Remus had come to accept that Lily Evans was not going to leave him alone.

She waved to him in the parking lot, chatted him up in class, and when the lunch bell rang, she dragged him bodily to her table in the cafeteria.

He followed without protest, grateful for the company—even if it meant sitting only a few seats away from him . Sirius Black was already at the table, lounging like he owned it, laughing with James, and picking at his food like nothing mattered. Remus ignored him.

He still didn’t understand how someone as warm and sweet as Lily could willingly hang out with someone as smug and insufferable as Sirius. But he didn’t care enough to untangle it.

Remus ended up across from a blonde girl he recognized from his math class, always joking with Sirius. She tilted her head, sizing him up with a smirk.

“Hello, Handsome. I’m Marlene. And who might you be?”

He grinned. “Remus Lupin. New kid.”

Sirius rolled his eyes across the table. Remus didn’t even glance his way.

“Oh, what’s got your panties in a twist, Black ?” Marlene shot at him with a wicked grin.

That shut him up. Remus liked her already.

“So, Lupin,” Marlene continued, “what cosmic forces brought a guy like you to our corner of the lunchroom?”

“Well, my mom and I moved here over the summer. And unfortunately, school is legally required.” He shot Lily a mock glare. “And Miss Evans has decided I’m her new pet project.”

Lily swatted his arm but smiled brightly. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of lunch passed like that—light teasing, harmless jokes. Marlene and Lily took turns poking fun at him, while James and Peter chimed in between bites. Remus didn’t spare Sirius a single glance, but if he had, he might have noticed the way those grey eyes kept flicking toward him, half annoyed, half curious.

Seventh hour rolled around, and Remus took his usual seat next to Regulus.

“I saw you eating with my brother today,” Regulus said, casually pulling out his sketchbook.

Remus blinked. “Brother… wait. Sirius ? No. I was eating with Lily . I’d rather chew on my sketchbook than voluntarily eat with Sirius.”

Regulus let out a real, surprised laugh.

Just then, the art teacher entered and clapped her hands to begin. “Alright, everyone—today we’re working on partner portraits. Choose someone to sketch. You’ll get your base drawing done in class and finish the rest at home, from memory.”

Most of the class groaned at the mention of homework, but Remus was thrilled. He liked assignments that let him disappear into lines and shading.

He exchanged a glance with Regulus, who gave a nonchalant shrug of agreement.

As Remus began outlining Regulus’s sharp features, he noticed the resemblance to Sirius—but carefully avoided emphasizing it in his drawing. He had a feeling Regulus would appreciate that.

As he sketched Regulus, he found it came easily to him. Like he knew where the lines belonged, like he had known him before. 

Remus was midway through sketching the shape of his cheekbones when Regulus spoke up, deadpan:

“Hey, Lupin. Look at me—I’m trying to get your scars right. I want people to know this is a portrait of a mysterious lone wolf, not some guy who lost a fight with a lawnmower.”

Remus barked a laugh.

Most people stared at his scars like they were something to be explained. Or worse, pitied. But Regulus made a joke, and for the first time in a long while, it didn’t sting. 

He liked that.

As far as pretentious little rich boys went, this one wasn’t so bad.

★★★

Sirius Black was so done with Remus Lupin.

He was everywhere . Weaseling his way into Sirius’s friend group. Smoking under the bleachers. Skating around like he owned the lot. Sitting at his lunch table. And now? Laughing with Regulus like they were old friends.

Sirius had been heading toward the bathroom to skip part of class when he passed the art room and saw them. Remus, grinning. Regulus, sketching. Both of them looking... comfortable .

Sirius stopped, scowled, then kept walking.

What did Regulus have that he didn’t? Why would Remus want to be friends with him ?

When the last bell rang, Sirius practically launched himself out of his seat, bolting toward the locker room. He needed to burn off whatever the hell this weird, restless energy was. Maybe it was the math test. Maybe it was Regulus sketching Lupin like he was some tragic Greek god. Whatever it was, it needed to go.

He rounded the corner too fast and slammed straight into what, for half a second, he assumed was a horribly placed coat rack—or maybe a tree.

Nope. Just Remus bloody Lupin.

The impact jolted them both back a step. Lupin blinked at him like he’d just been insulted by the air itself. Like the nerve of someone disrupting his tragic main character walk.

Sirius sneered. “Watch where you’re going, would you? Or is running into people part of your mysterious loner aesthetic?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, brushing dust off his hoodie with painful nonchalance. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are you okay? That looked like it might’ve bruised your ego.”

Sirius rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. He didn’t dignify that with a response. Just turned on his heel and stormed off, jaw tight and mood ruined.

Practice was going to suck.

Sirius was halfway through warm-ups when he heard it.

It started like most football practice gossip did—careless and loud, somewhere between sweaty socks and the stench of overconfidence. He was stretching his arms when he caught the tail end of a sentence: “—scarred freak. Swear he used to be in juvie or some shit.”

He stilled.

Two guys from the JV squad were leaning against the benches, voices just loud enough to be heard by half the team.

“Bet he’s the reason his last school kicked him out. I heard he got caught with a knife or something.”

“No, it was drugs. Or, like, a psych ward.”

Laughter. It bounced off the tiles like something cruel and childish.

Sirius clenched his jaw.

He wasn’t defending Lupin. Of course, he wasn’t. He couldn’t stand the guy. But something about the way they said it—like Remus was a monster they’d made up just for fun—hit wrong. He didn’t even realize he was staring until Marlene stepped between him and the gossipers.

“Wow,” she said, voice sharp as glass. “It must be exhausting pulling that much bullshit out of your asses.”

The boys blinked. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re talking about someone you don’t even know. ” Marlene crossed her arms. “Remus is more interesting in one stare than you two are in your entire puberty-ridden lives. So maybe shut up and worry about your own C-minus averages, yeah?”

They muttered something, but it faded fast. No one really argued with Marlene McKinnon.

Sirius watched her retreat across the locker room and drop onto the bench beside her gear like nothing happened. She caught his eye and raised a brow.

“You planning to say something, or just stand there looking constipated?”

Sirius shook his head, biting back a grin he didn’t ask for. “Didn’t know Lupin had a bodyguard.”

“Didn’t know you needed me to do your moral heavy lifting.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled his hoodie over his head. “I don’t care about him.”

“Mmhmm,” she said, already tying her cleats. “You sure? 'Cause you look like you’re two seconds from writing poetry about his jawline.”

Sirius didn’t have a good response for that.

So he didn’t give one.

That night, he stormed into Regulus’s room and flopped onto his bed without knocking. His eyes immediately caught on Regulus’s sketchbook, which lay open on the comforter. And staring back at him were far too familiar freckles and scars.

Sirius scowled. “What the fuck, Reg. Why are you drawing him ?”

Regulus didn’t look up. “Homework. Partner portraits. Lupin and I teamed up.”

“Ugh. Reggie. Why him ? He’s the worst .”

“He’s not,” Regulus said calmly. “He’s actually kind of funny. In a dry, sarcastic way.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. Remus Lupin was not funny.

“Well, I’d still be careful around him,” Sirius said, stretching out dramatically across the bed. “I overheard a rumor that he went psycho at his old school. That’s why he had to move here.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“And those scars—” Sirius hesitated, eyes flicking toward the sketch again. “I heard he was in a fight club. Or that he did it to himself.”

Regulus closed his sketchbook slowly. “We all have reputations, Sirius. We all have scars – you should know that better than anyone.”

Sirius looked up at his brother, caught off guard.

“Should we let him judge you based on yours ?”

The words hit like a slap. Sirius deflated, no longer sure why he even barged in. With a grunt, he slid off the bed and stalked toward the door. 

He spent the rest of his night lying in bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling,  thinking about that stupid smirk, those mysterious scars, and the quiet way Remus Lupin laughed when he thought no one was looking.

Chapter Text

★★★

On game days, every player wore their jersey to school, it was tradition. After his morning shower, Sirius slipped on his black and red jersey: number 83, with "POTTER" across the back. It wasn’t his legal name, but it meant everything to him. Effie and Monty had it custom-made after he moved in. He couldn't officially take the Potter name, but he was one, always had been, always would be.

As part of their pregame ritual, Regulus dutch braided his hair. Sirius sat on the edge of his brother’s bed while Regulus worked, gentle fingers pulling through his hair with the ease of routine. The room around them was dimly lit and tastefully messy. Forest green sheets, soft textures, and artwork scattered across the walls.

And there, in the corner: the portrait.

The one of Remus Lupin.

It was stunning—almost too much to look at. Regulus had somehow caught something no one else had: the way Remus’s features softened in shadow, the sadness stitched between freckles. He looked less like a mysterious asshole and more like someone trying desperately not to be seen.

Sirius couldn’t look away. “It’s amazing, Reggie. I never noticed he had so many freckles.”

Regulus gave a smug smile and tugged Sirius’s braid a little harder.

“OW—what the fuck was that for?!”

“Oh, nothing,” Regulus muttered.

—

On game days, Sirius drove to school with James, blasting the Spice Girls on the way there. It was tradition, and they honored it like gospel.

When they pulled into the lot, Sirius caught a glimpse of Remus behind a shed, cigarette perched between two long fingers, head tilted back to exhale smoke like he was in some kind of indie film. His curls were a mess, his hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of tanned skin.

Sirius blinked. Then blinked again.

No. Absolutely not.

It was game day.

That was all that mattered.

–

At lunch, Sirius met Marlene out on the bleachers—another tradition on game day. She handed him a ham sandwich and a carton of chocolate milk, grinning like she always did when the sun was out and she was about to play.

Marlene was the only girl on the team, and arguably one of the best. She could out-run most of the guys, hit harder than any of them expected, and never once asked for permission to belong.

She also got Sirius in a way no one else did.

They'd kissed once in seventh grade, during a game of spin-the-bottle. Afterward, she ran out of the room crying. Sirius followed her to the Potters' front steps where she sat sobbing.

“I don’t get it,” she had whispered, “why can’t I just like boys?”

After that, a quiet confession, “I think I’m broken.”

Sirius sat with her, a silent agreement. They got each other. 

It was the beginning of everything.

She came out to him in ninth grade, quietly, after practice, she pulled him aside. “I think I’m a lesbian.” She stated it like it were the most simple fact in the world. They hugged. Neither of them ever brought it up again. It just was .

Sirius, of course, was not gay . He dated girls. He kissed them. So what if he didn’t feel anything? He was just a late bloomer. One day, the right girl would come along—maybe tall, hazel eyes, messy curls, too many freckles—

Goddammit.

It was gameday, that was his focus. 

☾☾☾

Remus did not like football. At all.

But Lily loved it. And since her boyfriend was the star player, Remus had been strong-armed into attending. So at 5:30, he found himself in a black and red T-shirt with matching glitter on his eyelids, trailing behind Lily toward the bleachers.

The game started with a bang—literally. A cannon fired, and the team charged onto the field.

He spotted Sirius immediately: number 83, helmet glinting under the lights, dark braids swinging. James was next to him, number 38. Lily informed him that James was the running back and Sirius the tight end. Whatever that meant.

Remus sat and zoned out for most of the first half, cheering and booing only when everyone else did. At halftime, he slipped away under the bleachers for a smoke break, only to find Regulus already there, sketchbook in his lap.

“Sup, Reggie Boy.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Regulus replied, deadpan.

Remus chuckled, lighting his cigarette. “So what brings you under here on a beautiful night like this?”

“I hate football,” Regulus said plainly. “But Sirius insists I come. When we were living apart, games were the only place I saw him.”

“Wait—you and Sirius lived apart?”

Regulus hesitated. “Yeah. We don’t live with our birth parents anymore. Sirius moved in with the Potters a year ago. I followed a few months later.”

“Oh,” Remus said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

They sat in silence.

“I don’t live with my dad either,” Remus offered. “It’s just me and my mom now. We left him a few years ago. That’s why I’m here.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe the night just felt soft. Or maybe Regulus’s sketchbook made him feel understood in a way words rarely did.

When his cigarette burned low, Remus stood, gave Regulus a small wave, and climbed back to the bleachers.

The rest of the game passed in a blur. Their team won by a landslide, and the student section rushed the field. Remus lingered at the edge of the field, watching Lily run into James’s arms. They kissed. She squealed. The kind of joy Remus didn’t let himself imagine.

★★★

This—this was the best feeling in the world.

Fresh off a win. Sweat was dripping down his skin. The crowd’s roar vibrated through his bones. James was beside him, their teammates pounding each other’s backs like they were invincible. For a few fleeting minutes, Sirius could pretend everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

He scanned the stands, breath still catching, eyes searching. The student section was already pouring onto the field in a blur of black and red. Lily leaped into James’s arms like something out of a movie, glitter on her cheeks and joy in her laughter.

And then—
There.

Sirius’s gaze caught on someone lingering at the edge of the chaos.

Remus Lupin.

Wearing a red and black crop top that left a sliver of tanned skin showing, his curls a mess from the wind. Glitter shimmered across his eyelids—real glitter. Who wore glitter to a football game?

And why did it look so damn good on him?

Sirius’s throat went dry. His heart stuttered, then sped up, then stopped altogether when Remus looked up—right at him.

Their eyes locked.

Remus didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk. He just stared, and for a second Sirius swore the world around them blurred. There was something strange about it—like Remus wasn’t looking at him, but into him. Like he was seeing Sirius for the first time. 

Panic surged in his chest.

Sirius tore his gaze away and turned sharply toward the locker room. He moved fast, nearly shoving a freshman out of his way. He didn’t stop until the door slammed behind him and he was under the cold spray of the showers, still fully dressed, arms braced against the tile.

What the hell just happened?

He wasn’t gay.

No. No, absolutely not.

Sure, maybe girls didn’t do much for him—but that didn’t mean anything. He was just… picky. Or distracted. Or still figuring it out.

And Remus Lupin? The lanky, sarcastic, scarred boy who never stopped scowling at him? He was the last person Sirius would ever be into.

Except…

Except now all he could think about was the way that glitter caught the stadium lights, and how soft Remus’s skin looked under it.

He let out a growl and slammed his fist against the wall.

This wasn’t happening. He just needed to reset. Focus on football. On James. On anything else.

But even as the cold water ran down his back, Sirius knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about that look.

Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

Remus Lupin had met hundreds of boys just like Sirius Black—cocky, rich, charming in the worst kind of way. The kind of boys who never had to fight for anything, who never went to bed scared, who never had to clean up shattered glass after their dad punched through another window.

Or at least, that’s what Remus thought.

Sirius had an air about him—a swagger, a presence. He strolled through hallways like he owned them, hair always tousled just so, leather jacket slung casually over one shoulder. He cracked jokes, skipped classes, and rode a motorbike like the main character in a teen drama. Just like those other boys.

But after talking with Regulus, something shifted. Now Remus knew one thing that made Sirius different: he didn’t live with his parents.

Remus didn’t know the details—if they were dead, or just monsters—but the idea that someone like Sirius Black could’ve gone through something like that? It twisted Remus’ gut.

He remembered something his old physical therapist once told him: “Everyone has scars, Remus. Yours are just more visible.”

He hated hearing it at the time. But it was true. He thought of Lily—bright-eyed, beautiful Lily—telling him about being bullied for her weight, about thinking James only asked her out as a joke, about the boy she used to call her best friend, and how he broke her trust completely. Not everyone’s pain shows on their skin.

Still, having trauma didn’t give Sirius the right to treat him like garbage.

After a weekend of reflection, Remus woke up Monday morning with his head pounding.

“Fuck,” he muttered, stumbling into the bathroom.

He popped two painkillers and washed them down with a glass of water. He considered staying home, but he was already the “class freak”—he’d heard the rumors. Psycho. Unstable. Dangerous. Missing school would only feed the fire.

His mom had the day off and offered him a ride. As they pulled into the parking lot, she kissed his head and reminded him to hydrate and visit the nurse if he needed to.

He slipped on his headphones and blasted Fleetwood Mac, praying Stevie Nicks could soothe his skull. First hour was agony. The lights were too bright, the voices too loud, and his migraine made every sound feel like a scream.

Thankfully, Ms. McGonagall’s stern voice quieted the room quickly.

Remus kept his head down, avoiding even the temptation to glare at Sirius. He just wanted to make it to lunch.

Then came the words that ruined everything:

“Group projects.”

If Remus could have evaporated on the spot, he would have.

And then:

“James Potter, Sirius Black,” McGonagall began. James fist-bumped the air.

“And Remus Lupin.”

Remus dropped his head to the desk.

That was it. The end of his life. He’d have to tell Lily not to put roses at his funeral. He hated roses.

James and Sirius turned around in their seats to face him. Remus forced himself to meet their eyes—and immediately regretted it. Sirius was glaring daggers at him; in that moment, Remus really did wish that looks could kill.

James began making plans to meet after school—they didn’t have practice that evening since it was an off week. As Remus fumbled through his bag, his vision blurred and his head throbbed harder. He finally found his migraine glasses—specially tinted prescription lenses—and slipped them on.

Sirius noticed but said nothing.

They agreed to meet in the library after school.

☾☾☾

Sirius was fuming by second hour. How dare McGonagall assign him to work with Remus fucking Lupin.

And those glasses. Who did he think he was, just pulling out a pair of glasses like he was in an indie movie poster? They weren’t even dorky—they made his eyes look deeper, his freckles stand out more. It was unfair.

Sirius was going to get those glasses off his face.

During PE, his opportunity struck. Lupin always changed in the bathroom stalls, never in the open locker room. Sirius watched as he set his glasses on the bench, then “accidentally” wandered over and sat on them with the farce of tying his shoes. He heard the crack.

“Oh no,” he said, faux-apologetically.

Lupin stepped out of the stall, saw what happened, and just… didn’t react. No rage. No biting comment. He grabbed his gym clothes and walked away.

Which was somehow worse.

PE went on. No glares. No smirks. Nothing from Remus.

Then, ten minutes before the bell, Sirius watched him sprint out of class and into the bathroom without a word to the teacher.

When the bell rang, Sirius changed and looked around—Remus was gone. His stuff was still in his locker, so he hadn’t left school… had he?

He told himself it wasn’t his problem.

☾☾☾

After school, Sirius trudged to the library with James.

“Where the fuck is Lupin?” he asked.

James shrugged. “No clue.”

They waited an hour. He never showed.

When they got home, Sirius dropped his bag and wandered into Regulus’ room. His brother sat at his desk, sketching.

“Sup, Reggie. How was school?”

“Fine. As usual.” 

He looked around the room, once again noticing the pencil lines that haunted him.

“Why do you still have that picture of Lupin on your desk? Weren’t you supposed to turn it in today?”

“We were. But Remus wasn’t in class.”

Sirius’ stomach dropped.

He’d been there that morning. What did Reggie mean he wasn’t in class?

Did… did Sirius do that?

He left without another word and slouched into his own room, flopping on his bed. A couple of hours later, James poked his head in.

“Alright, Pads. What are we moping about now?”

“I hurt Remus.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think that?”

“I broke his glasses. He disappeared after that. It was just meant to be a joke.” Sirius sat up, running a hand through his hair, he felt nauseous. “I didn’t mean to actually hurt him.”

“Well, you already know how I felt about that little ‘joke,’” James said, flopping down beside him – he had told him off for it immediately after class., “But maybe it’s not about you.”

Sirius blinked. “Come on. He left right after I did that. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Maybe. Or maybe something else was going on. We don’t know Remus yet. There are plenty of other things that could have happened. Besides, why do you care so much? I thought you hated the guy.”

Sirius didn’t respond because he knew the answer, and he did not like it.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

Three days.
Remus missed three whole days of school this time.

Halfway through PE on Monday, everything had hit a breaking point. His head pounded, his stomach twisted, and the fluorescent lights above felt like tiny suns drilling into his skull. Collapsing in front of a gym full of people was not on his agenda, so instead, he bolted. Without a word to the teacher, he sprinted to the bathroom and spent the next twenty minutes hunched over a toilet, shaking and vomiting.

By the time he crawled out of the stall, the locker room was silent. Everyone had already left. He washed his face with cold water and stared at his reflection. Pale, sweating, trembling. And no migraine glasses—Sirius had made sure of that.

Still, he pushed himself toward the nurse's office, steps slow and dragging.

He barely made it through the door before he collapsed.

The school nurse, Poppy Pomfrey, was a kind woman, gentle and firm in the way adults never were with him. She didn’t ask invasive questions, didn’t act annoyed. She simply helped. She gave him a cold compress, whispered reassurances, and called his mom.

Remus wasn’t used to being cared for. Most adults either ignored him or saw him as too much trouble. Having someone actually pay attention—to take him seriously—made something small and tight in his chest loosen.

His mom picked him up within the hour, worry all over her face, and he spent the next three days in bed, miserable and fogged with pain.

His chronic pain wasn’t new. It started the same night he got the scars. The same night his world split in two. Some days it was dull and distant, like a shadow. Other days—like Monday—it swallowed him whole. When the pain was especially bad, it left him unable to move. Back when he first got out of the hospital, he had physical therapy, but his dad had pulled him out of that quickly. “Waste of money,” he’d said. Just like everything else Remus ever needed.

Now all he had was the pain, bad coping skills, and more scars—inside and out—than he could count.

When Friday rolled around, he returned to school almost-good-as-new. He was used to the stares by now, the whispers. None of that bothered him as much as the thought of seeing Sirius again.

They hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, sure—but Remus didn’t understand why Sirius seemed to hate him so much. The tension had felt like rivalry, harmless digs and mutual irritation. But breaking his glasses? That wasn’t teasing. That was cruel.

As he walked into first hour, the room fell into a hush. He ignored it. He ignored Sirius’ eyes, too—burning into him from across the room. He just sat next to Lily and exhaled.

“Oh, Remus, love, thank goodness you’re back you left me with all these idiotic boys,” Lily moaned dramatically, draping herself over his shoulders.

He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too, Lils.”

Lily had called him every day while he was out. She didn’t demand updates. She just checked in. Remus appreciated that. 

“How are you feeling today, darling?” she asked gently.

“I’m fine, Mum,” he muttered, rolling his eyes with a faint smile.

At that, Sirius turned in his seat. His expression was unreadable—eyes flicking over Remus like he was searching for something.

“You missed the project,” Sirius said, voice clipped. “Luckily, McGonagall gave us an extension.”

Remus blinked at him, surprised. He glanced to the seat beside Sirius—empty.

“James is out today,” Sirius added quickly, like he could feel the question forming. “But we can meet after school. Library. To go over your part.”

Remus nodded stiffly, unsure what else to say. McGonagall cleared her throat at the front of the room, and that was that.

At the end of the day Remus trudged to the library, finding Sirius already there. He dropped into the chair across from him, took off his headphones, and paused his Walkman.

Sirius glanced up. “What are you listening to?”

Remus stared for a second, skeptical. The boy who broke his glasses and ignored him for weeks was suddenly making small talk?

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Sirius deflated a little. But he didn’t push.

They worked in silence. It wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t hostile either. Somewhere in between. The only sound was the scratching of pencils and the low patter of rain starting against the windows.

And then, it poured.

Remus tensed. The rain wasn’t the problem—it was the memory of it, that night it all changed. Every flash of lightning brought a fresh jolt to his chest. He tried to focus, to breathe, but his hands started to shake.

After ten minutes, he mumbled an excuse and stood. “Bathroom.”

He barely made it down the hall before he was gasping for air. In the safety of the tiled walls, he tore off his hoodie and pressed his back against the door. He counted. One, two, three—just like his therapist had taught him years ago. But the storm inside was louder than the one outside.

Ten more seconds, and the tears came. He hated this. Hated how fragile he felt. How weak. He needed to leave—but his legs wouldn’t move.

The next flash of lightning rattled the building. A loud crack of thunder followed—and the bathroom door creaked open.

Sirius stepped inside, eyes narrowed like he was ready to deliver a lecture.

But then he saw Remus.

Remus, flushed and shaking.

Remus, tear-streaked and breathless.

Whatever Sirius had planned to say died in his throat. His expression shifted—anger melting into something like guilt, or maybe something even softer. Without a word, he turned around and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

★★★

After only half an hour of working on the project, Lupin had ditched him. Again.

God, what was his problem?

If what he’d said to Lily that morning was true, then Lupin was feeling fine. So what excuse did he have to just get up and leave now?

Ten minutes passed, and Sirius was done waiting. He shoved his notebook into his bag and made the decision to track the boy down and tell him off properly.

But the moment he pushed open the bathroom door, the words died in his throat.

Lupin was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, face pale and blotched with tears. His breathing was fast, uneven—panic sharp in every inhale.

Sirius froze.

It felt like time had stopped.

The sight of Lupin like that—so raw and vulnerable—short-circuited whatever leftover anger he’d been holding onto. Without a word, Sirius turned and slipped out the door, heart hammering.

He needed help.

Without thinking, he ran straight to the art room. If anyone could help Remus, it was Reggie.

“Come with me. It’s Remus,” he said, breathless.

That was all he had to say. Regulus was on his feet instantly.

When they got back to the bathroom, Lupin was still on the floor, looking just as broken as before.

Regulus didn’t hesitate. He crouched in front of him, placed a careful hand on Lupin’s chest, and started murmuring something soft. Guiding him through each breath.

Sirius stood back, watching.

The way Remus responded to Regulus was immediate—his body relaxing slightly, breath evening out. There was something about the way he leaned into Reggie’s pres

trusted him. Like he’d done it before.

It was too much.

Too intimate.

Sirius turned and walked away.

He went back to the library. If he couldn’t be useful emotionally, he could at least be helpful practically. He gathered up Remus’ things and left them—neatly packed—outside the bathroom door. Then, without knocking or saying anything else, he walked away again.

By the time Sirius got home, he still hadn’t been able to shake the image from his head.

Remus, small and shaking in the corner of the bathroom.

The way he couldn’t breathe. The way Sirius had no idea what to do.

Later that night, when he heard Regulus come home, Sirius bolted to his room like he hadn’t spent the last hour rehearsing what to say.

Feigning casual, he leaned against the doorway. “Hey, Reg. How were things after I left? Was Lupin okay?”

Regulus looked up from his sketchbook. “Obviously not, Sirius. He was having a panic attack.”

Oh.

“Don’t worry,” Regulus added, “I helped calm him down. We talked through it.”

“Did he, um… say what triggered it?”

Regulus hesitated. “Yeah. He’s terrified of the rain. It reminded him of the—” He cut himself off.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Of the what?”

“I don’t think it’s my place to share someone else’s trauma with you,” Regulus said carefully. “Especially since you haven’t exactly been nice to him.”

Sirius sighed and collapsed onto Regulus’ bed.

“I know,” he mumbled. “You’re right. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time I’m around him, I feel so... off.”

Regulus looked at him then—really looked at him. Like he could see all the things Sirius hadn’t figured out about himself yet.

“Mhm,” he said, not unkindly. Just knowingly.

Sirius looked away first.

He always did, when Regulus looked at him like that—like he knew. Like he had already put all the puzzle pieces together while Sirius was still shaking the box.

“I’m not—” Sirius started, then stopped. The words caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. I’m not gay? I’m not obsessed? I’m not spiraling?

Regulus didn’t push. He just waited. Like he always did when Sirius was lying to himself.

In the silence, Regulus stood and crossed the room. He opened his sketch portfolio from the desk drawer and flipped through a few pages. Then, without saying anything, he pulled one free and walked back, laying it gently in Sirius’ lap.

“He gave me this today,” Sirius looked down at the drawing in his lap, “Our partner portraits from the first week.”

Sirius looked down—and froze.

It was Regulus.

Not the aloof, sharp-edged version the world usually got. This Regulus looked… human. Still elegant, sure—Remus had captured his symmetry perfectly—but also gentle. Quiet strength, soft shadows under his eyes, the glint of something vulnerable in the way his shoulders curved in just slightly, like he was bracing for a blow.

Sirius didn’t speak. He just stared.

“You like it?” Regulus asked, but his voice was casual, like he already knew the answer.

Sirius gave a breath of a laugh. “He really sees you, huh?”

Regulus nodded. “Yeah. He does.”

The room felt still after that. Not heavy. Just full of something Sirius didn’t know how to name.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever seen me like that,” Sirius admitted, thumb grazing the corner of the page.

Regulus looked at him then—really looked. “Maybe not yet.”

Sirius glanced up. “But you think he could?”

Regulus didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. “You wouldn’t be this much of a mess if he didn’t already.”

Sirius swallowed, eyes drifting back down to the drawing. “You’re sure he doesn’t hate me?”

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to,” Regulus said. “But I’m also sure he doesn’t.”

There was a pause.

“Thanks,” Sirius muttered.

“For what?”

“Not saying it.”

Regulus just gave a hum and leaned back on his palms. “You’ll say it when you’re ready.”

Sirius didn’t respond. But he kept the drawing on his lap, fingers lightly curled around the paper’s edge, like it grounded him.

And for once, he let himself be quiet with it.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

Remus was royally embarrassed.

He had completely broken down in front of Sirius Black—the guy who already seemed to think he was some kind of unstable freak. The image of himself, slumped on the bathroom floor, sobbing, while Sirius stared down at him—that wasn’t going away any time soon.

But, somehow, something good came from the wreckage.

Regulus Black.

After that day, Regulus had walked Remus home. At first, neither of them spoke. But about halfway there, Remus had started talking. Tentatively at first—about his migraines, about how his body always ached, about the scars that made other people stare and made him flinch at his own reflection.

And then, he said it: his dad used to drink. And hit. And shout.

He said it like it was a joke. But when he looked over, he saw something unmistakable in Regulus’ eyes: recognition. Not pity. Not horror. Just quiet knowing.

They didn’t speak much for the rest of the walk. But they didn’t have to.

That following Monday, during lunch, Regulus found him under the bleachers. He didn’t say anything—just sat beside him and opened his sketchbook. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to.

On Tuesday, it happened again. Halfway through lunch, Remus started stacking pebbles on Regulus’ boot, one by one, waiting to see how long it would take him to notice.

Regulus raised an unimpressed brow, then flicked one of the stones up at Remus’ chest.

They both laughed.

That was the real beginning.

From then on, they ate lunch together nearly every day—under the bleachers, or in the art room when it rained. Sometimes they talked about everything: music, books, art, the crushing weight of being a person. Other times they didn’t talk at all. It was easy with Regulus. There were no expectations. Just quiet understanding.

Remus started to notice things. The way Regulus avoided conversations about his brother. The way his whole posture changed when he had a pencil in hand. The way he’d light up when talking about a book he loved—even if the excitement was hidden behind a perfectly crafted deadpan.

They started trading recommendations.

Today’s was going to be different.

Remus had carefully selected it: The Picture of Dorian Gray . Not just because it was brilliant or beautiful or biting. But because it meant something. Something he couldn’t say aloud just yet.

In seventh grade, Remus had his first ever crush.
Her name was Veronica. She had long black hair that she wore in braids and soft brown eyes that always looked like she knew something you didn’t. They had a few classes together and often ended up sitting next to each other at lunch. She smelled like vanilla and old books. Remus liked her laugh, and the way she scribbled song lyrics on her wrists in Sharpie.

It never went anywhere. They didn’t date. They never even kissed. They were just two kids orbiting each other for a brief moment in time. And then he moved. Again.

He thought that was it. His first crush. Case closed.

Until it wasn’t.

Because in seventh grade, Remus also had his second ever crush. A boy named Jason.

Jason had curly red hair and big round glasses that kept sliding down his nose when he laughed. His house backed up into a forest, and the two of them would spend hours there after school—building forts out of fallen branches, pretending they were knights or space cowboys or time travelers. They talked about music and comics and which superpowers would suck in real life.

Jason was magic.

They were inseparable, the kind of friendship that feels like its own secret language. One afternoon, the two of them lay shirtless by the creek, sun warm on their backs, skinny legs dangling in the water. Jason looked at him, really looked at him—at the scars slashed across Remus’ chest and ribs. Remus instinctively went to cover them up, shame bubbling in his throat.

But Jason just blinked and said, casually, like it was obvious:
“They look cool. Like you survived something big.”

Then he made up a whole story about a werewolf, how Remus had fought it off to save a village and won. It was ridiculous, and dumb, and everything Remus needed to hear.

He leaned in and kissed him. Just once. A soft, innocent press of lips. The kind you give because you don’t know how else to say thank you for seeing me.

When he pulled back, Jason just blushed and smiled. Then he grabbed Remus by the wrist and pulled him back into the creek, splashing and laughing like nothing had changed.

But it had.

A few months later, Remus moved. Again.

He never saw Jason after that.

It wasn’t until years later that Remus heard the word: Bisexual .

A girl at school said it offhandedly. “You know, people who like boys and girls. Like Freddie Mercury. David Bowie.”

Remus went home that night and listened to Under Pressure five times in a row.

Something inside him clicked. Finally, a word that fit. A word that held Veronica and Jason, glitter eyeshadow and muddy Converse, wanting to kiss and wanting to be kissed.

It made sense. It felt like home .

He never made a big deal about it, just quietly started writing the word down on the edges of notebooks, tracing it into the fogged glass of the bathroom mirror. He told Lily one night over shared fries and milkshakes. She squeezed his hand and said, “Cool. Took you long enough.”

He hadn’t told many people. Not because he was ashamed, but because the words always caught in his throat.

But with Regulus… it felt possible.

So today, when Advanced Drawing ended, Remus slipped The Picture of Dorian Gray into Regulus’ bag. Tucked inside was a note, small and folded three times.

Something to help you understand me a bit better.

That was all it said.

He didn’t expect a big reaction.

But he hoped—just maybe—Regulus would read it, and get it .

★★★

After his talk with Regulus, Sirius had a new mission:
Figure out how to befriend Remus Lupin.

It wasn’t that he liked Remus—obviously not. He just… needed answers. Clarity. Closure. Ever since that day in the bathroom, his thoughts had become entirely Lupin-shaped. He’d reached the undeniable conclusion that Remus was the most interesting person he’d ever met. So obviously the only solution was to befriend him, learn his secrets, solve the puzzle. Then everything would go back to normal. He’d be cured of this weird fascination.

It was scientific, really.

Unfortunately, there was a new obstacle:
Regulus.

The two of them were suddenly inseparable—lunch, art class, walking home, even weekends. His brother had somehow gained exclusive access to Remus’ time, and Sirius hated it. Not because he was jealous, of course. That would be ridiculous. He just needed a moment— one moment—with Remus alone.

And then it happened.

He overheard Lily pouting in the hallway, arms dramatically flung around Remus like he was a soldier heading to war.

“Babes, you never hang out with us anymore. I’m lonely. Come to lunch today.”

Remus chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be a little late, though. Gotta let Reg know I’ll be abandoning him for you and your group of loud-mouthed heathens.”

Perfect. Today was the day.

When Remus finally walked into the lunchroom, Sirius was ready. He waved him over with a grin, practically shoving Peter out of the way to make room. “Oi, scoot.”

Remus approached slowly, suspicious, like he was expecting a trap. “Hey… how are you guys?”

“We’re good!” Sirius answered, a little too enthusiastically. “How are you , Remus?”

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly but answered anyway. “I’m alright.”

The table splintered into smaller conversations. Marlene and James started rambling about the homecoming game, Lily was quizzing Peter on history dates, and Sirius saw his opening.

“So, Remus,” he said casually, “you excited for the homecoming game Friday?”

Remus blinked. “Oh. Um… not really. I’m not a huge football person.”

Sirius clutched his heart like he’d been stabbed. “ What?! That’s criminal. Clearly, you just haven’t watched me play enough. One more game and I’m confident you’ll be converted.”

Remus gave a small, skeptical smile. “Well, I’m going with Lily, so… I guess we’ll see.”

And that’s when inspiration struck Sirius like a lightning bolt.

“Say,” he said, pretending to be casual. “You wanna wear my jersey to the game?”

Remus nearly choked on his juice. “What.”

“Yeah,” Sirius repeated. “You can match Lily—she’ll be wearing James’ jersey. It’s tradition.”

Remus stared at him like he was trying to decode a language he didn’t speak. He waited, watching Sirius carefully, like he expected some kind of punchline. But all he saw was hopeful sincerity.

“…Alright,” Remus said at last, voice quiet.

Sirius beamed. “Brilliant.”

“Oh! And—Prongs and I are skipping the dance. We’re throwing a party at his place after. You should come.”

James perked up immediately. “Yes! You have to come. We need someone with taste on the playlist, and clearly that’s not Sirius.”

Remus ducked his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah… maybe.”

Sirius tried not to smile too hard.
Mission status: progressing.

That Friday, Sirius made sure every pre-game ritual was followed to the letter . Left sock before right. Two sips of water, not three. Tied and retied his boots until the laces were exactly even. He couldn’t risk anything going wrong today—not with Remus Lupin sitting in the stands.

During first hour, he casually dropped his spare jersey onto Remus’s desk with a grin.

“See you tonight,” he said, trying not to sound too eager.

Remus blinked in surprise, then gave him a soft smile. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

That smile stuck with Sirius all day. His plan was working.

He had lunch with Marlene in the bleachers, the two of them trading sandwiches and mocking the football team’s rival like they always did. But Sirius was distracted. His eyes scanned the stands until they found him —Remus, a few rows up on the opposite side, shoulder-to-shoulder with Regulus.

They were deep in conversation over a book—probably one of their many nerdy recommendations. Sirius watched them laugh quietly, heads close together. Then, just as he was about to look away, Regulus reached out and pulled Remus into a hug. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t awkward either. Familiar. Comforting.

Remus wiped his eyes.

Sirius felt his stomach twist.

A heat rose in his chest—fast and bitter. His fists clenched. He was seconds away from marching down there and demanding to know what the hell was going on. Why Regulus got that version of Remus—the open one, the soft one. Why Sirius only got defenses and curt nods, and why that felt so much worse now than it used to.

“What’s wrong with you?” Marlene’s voice cut through his storm. She followed his gaze and rolled her eyes. “Oh. This again?”

He didn’t answer, but his glare didn’t waver.

Marlene let out a breath, sitting back on her elbows as she looked between him and the two boys in the distance. Then it clicked. Her brows rose slightly. “Ohhh. Okay.”

“What?” Sirius said sharply, too quickly.

She didn’t say. But she didn’t need to.

Instead, she smirked and kicked at his shin with the toe of her boot. “Anyway, are you bringing drinks to James’ party, or am I the only one responsible around here?”

Sirius tore his eyes away and forced a laugh. “Yeah. I’ve got it covered.”

But even as he teased her back and let the conversation move on, his thoughts stayed fixed on the boy in the stands. The boy in his jersey.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

Friday was the day. The homecoming game. The party. The day Regulus was supposed to return the book. Remus was panicking, to say the least.

When Sirius had asked him to wear his jersey to the game, Remus had been completely caught off guard. He’d assumed it was just another one of Sirius Black’s pranks—a cruel joke he’d laugh about later with James and Peter. But the look on Sirius’s face had said otherwise. There had been no smirk, no punchline waiting behind his eyes. Just… hope. And for some reason, Remus hadn’t been able to say no.

Then Friday morning came, and Sirius casually dropped the spare jersey on Remus’s desk with that same damn smile. It knocked the breath out of him. For a moment, everything else faded—the stress of the party, the meeting with Regulus at lunch. All Remus could think about was the fabric in his hands. It smelled like warm leather, expensive cologne, and something else uniquely Sirius. Something that made Remus dizzy.

He wore the jersey anyway.

Unfortunately, lunchtime arrived all too quickly, and the haze broke.

Remus climbed into the bleachers—this time choosing a seat in the upper rows, close to the sun. Moments later, Regulus appeared beside him, settling quietly and placing the worn paperback between them.

“I finished the book,” he said, voice low and even.

Remus swallowed hard. “Yeah? What did you think?”

Regulus didn’t answer right away. He turned to look at him, eyes soft, a small half-smile tugging at his lips. “I think I love you. And I’m proud of you. For sharing this part of yourself with me.”

The lump in Remus’s throat gave way.

Tears slid down his cheeks before he could stop them. Regulus leaned in and hugged him without hesitation—no questions, no apologies. Just warm arms and quiet comfort.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

After that, they talked like they always did, slipping back into their usual rhythm. It was easy, effortless—like the moment hadn’t cracked something open between them, like the pieces had always belonged.

That night, Remus followed Lily through the loud, glittering crowd of the student section. She had, of course, insisted on covering his face in sparkles again. And he let her.
But this time felt different.

This time, Sirius wanted him there.
This time, he was wearing Sirius’s jersey.

He still didn’t understand football—despite Lily’s excited explanations of first downs and false starts—and he probably never would. But for once, he didn’t mind the noise, the chaos, the game.

Because this time, when Sirius got the ball, Remus found himself standing and cheering—louder than anyone else.

And when Sirius glanced into the stands, eyes scanning the crowd, he found Remus immediately.

Wearing his number.
Wearing his name.
And smiling just for him.

★★★

They had done it—another sweaty, beautiful win. The crowd was electric, the stadium lights blinding, and adrenaline still surged through Sirius’ veins as he hugged James, both of them shouting nonsense over the roar. Everything felt like it was falling into place.

Then, like clockwork, the students rushed the field.

Sirius watched Lily run straight into James’ arms, just like she did after every win. But this time, behind her, was Remus Lupin—eyes glittering, cheeks flushed, wearing a red and black jersey that read his adoptive name on the back. 

And Sirius couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could only stare.

Remus jogged up to him, a shy smile on his face, and clapped him on the back. “Great game,” he said. Casual. Normal.

But Sirius’s brain was short-circuiting. It took everything in him not to grab Remus’s face, to pull him close and stare into those hazel eyes until the world around them blurred.

Thankfully, Regulus swooped in like a divine intervention, congradulating him from a distance, know how gross Sirius got after his games. Sirius however hugged him anyway, ignoring the protests. Just as he let go, Marlene came bouncing up, blonde braids falling loose and a manic grin on her face.

“Let’s fucking party!!”

Back in the locker room, Sirius sped through his post-game ritual—shower, hair, outfit. Everything had to be perfect. He packed a tight black t-shirt and his favorite dark blue jeans with silver stars on the back pockets that, according to multiple sources (Marlene), made his ass look “criminally good.” His hair fell around his shoulders in soft waves, and he slicked it with product until it gleamed. He added his silver rings and a few spritzes of cologne—leather, bergamot, something darker beneath. Something expensive.

By the time they arrived at the Potter residence, the party was already filling up. Lily, Regulus, and Remus had gone straight there after the game to help set up. The house was buzzing, music thumping through the walls.

The second Sirius walked in, he beelined to the drinks table. After seeing Remus in his jersey, he knew he was going to need a stiff drink—or five.

By the time he finally found Remus, Sirius was well past tipsy. Remus stood by the wall, mid-conversation with Lily, laughing at something she’d said. His glittered eyelids caught the light like stars, and Sirius couldn’t help himself. He rushed over and threw his arms around him.

Remus startled, then laughed. “Why, hello Sirius. Great game tonight.”

Sirius beamed. “So have I officially convinced you that football is the greatest sport in the world?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Remus said, rolling his eyes, but not unkindly.

That’s when Under Pressure came on.

Sirius practically gasped. “Remus. Dance with me.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“What?! It’s Bowie and Queen! It’s divine !”

“I’m not saying the song’s bad, I’m saying I don’t dance in front of people. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

Sirius stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, eyes wide with dramatic offense. Thankfully, Marlene swooped in before the moment turned too awkward, grabbing Sirius and dragging him toward the living room for a full-throttle dance-off. He twirled, he jumped, he belted the lyrics with his entire soul.

Several songs—and many drinks—later, Sirius wandered back outside, buzz still humming through him. He found Remus on the front porch, sitting alone, a cigarette pinched between two fingers. He looked gorgeous under the porch light, like something out of a dream.

Sirius plopped down beside him, far too close. He didn’t care.

Remus tilted his head back to look at the moon. Sirius followed his gaze, then whispered, “You’re very Moony.”

Remus turned, raising an eyebrow. “What could that possibly mean?”

“It means you’re like the moon,” Sirius slurred. “Big and bright and mysterious. And always too far away.”

He leaned in closer, breath warm, and that’s when Remus caught it—the alcohol. The sharp tang of liquor clinging to Sirius’s skin.

Remus shifted away. “You’re drunk.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Stern. Distant.

“And you’re not?” Sirius replied, trying to sound light, teasing—but it came out defensive.

“I’m actually not, thank you very much.” Remus stood abruptly. “I told my mom I’d be home before midnight.”

Sirius scrambled to follow but lost his balance, still too tipsy. “Wait—Remus, did I do something wrong?”

But Remus was already gone.

Sirius stumbled into bed the moment he sobered up enough to find it. His room swayed slightly as he lay down, heart racing, brain replaying every second on that porch.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He never knew what he was doing wrong with Remus.

But it was always something.

As he stared up at the ceiling, he let himself imagine—just for a second—what would’ve happened if Remus had stayed. If they were still out there, under the moonlight, curled up together.

Maybe he’d be laying here now, beside Sirius.

Maybe…

No.

What could have happened didn’t matter.

Remus had left. Again. And it was Sirius’s fault.

Again.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

​​ Remus didn’t drink. His father made sure of that. He knew what alcohol did to people—how it turned them ugly, sharp-edged, dangerous. He’d watched it seep into a man’s bones and twist him into something unrecognizable. He swore he’d never let that happen to himself.

That’s why he left the party.

He knew what to expect—he was in high school, after all. Parties meant drinking. But he hadn’t expected how overwhelming it would actually be. The music was loud, the lights too bright, and the voices? Slurred and chaotic and far too many of them all at once.

It had started out okay. He’d chatted with Lily and Marlene, had a few laughs, watched Sirius dancing from across the room. That part had been... nice. Sirius danced like he didn’t care who was watching, all loose limbs and wild energy. And Remus had watched—more than he meant to—smiling quietly into his drink. (Water, of course.)

But eventually, it got to be too much. Too many bodies, too many smells, too many expectations. So he slipped outside, cigarette perched between two fingers, trying to calm the tightness in his chest. He sat on the front steps, silently willing himself to relax, to just get through the night.

That’s when Sirius stumbled out the front door and sat beside him.

The other boy had clearly had a bit to drink—he swayed slightly as he sat, and that signature cologne was now laced heavily with sweat and alcohol. But Sirius had been kinder lately. Gentler. Like maybe he’d forgiven Remus for whatever imagined wrong he’d committed just by existing.

And honestly, Remus was starting to like him. He liked the way Sirius’ eyes lit up when he handed him his jersey before the game. He liked the way he barked out laughter at anything James said, like the sound itself was an instinct. And he couldn’t deny—after the win, seeing Sirius sweaty and triumphant, grin spread wide across his face—he looked good . Beautiful, even.

Sirius schooch in close to Remus, entering his space. He looked radiant, flushed from the night, still riding the high of his win, hair messy and glitter sticking to his cheeks. His smile was lazy, his eyes glassy, and for a moment Remus let himself believe this was a scene from a movie—two boys under the stars, alone on the porch, something meaningful about to be said.

Sirius leaned in, Remus could feel the other boys breath on his neck, “You’re very Moony.”

Remus turned toward him, eyebrows raised. “What could that possibly mean?”

Sirius gave him a dreamy look. “It means you’re big and bright and mysterious... and always way too far away.”

And that’s when Remus smelled the alcohol on his breath. Strong and sour and unmistakable.

The illusion shattered.

Oh.

Of course.

This wasn’t real. This wasn’t anything. Just a drunk boy waxing poetic at the nearest warm body. A moment built up in Remus’ head, turned into nothing by the sting of vodka and beer.

“You’re drunk,” he said, sitting up straighter, trying to create distance.

“And you’re not?” Sirius shot back, words too quick and too sharp.

“I’m actually not, thank you very much.” Remus stood, shaking his head. “I told my mom I’d be home before midnight.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away.

Behind him, Sirius tried to call out, “Wait, Remus—did I do something wrong?”

But Remus was already gone.

The next Monday, Remus didn’t even make it out of bed.

The pain had started as a dull throb behind his eyes on Sunday night, but by morning it had bloomed into a full-blown migraine—sharp, searing, blinding. Every sound stabbed at his skull. Every ray of sunlight behind the curtain felt like a knife.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The rest of his body felt like it had been through war. Joints ached. Muscles cramped. Even his skin felt sore, too tender to be touched. It was the kind of pain that lived deep in his bones, crawling beneath the surface like it had always belonged there.

He didn’t have it in him to fake anything. Not today.

He managed to stand just long enough to call his mom at work, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey… it’s one of those days.”

Her sigh on the other end was soft, understanding. “Okay, baby. Stay in bed. I’ll call the school.”

After hanging up, he quickly called Lily and Reg to let them know where he would be. Then he shut the curtains, swallowed the strongest pain meds he had left, and buried himself under his blanket. He pressed a cold cloth to his forehead and tried to focus on breathing through the fire behind his eyes.

Tuesday brought more of the same. He didn’t eat much. Just water, crackers, and a few sips of soup Lily brought over when she dropped by at 4. She sat next to him on the bed, holding his hand in silence. She didn’t push. She didn’t pry. She just stayed. That was enough.

By Wednesday, the edge of the migraine had dulled a bit, but the fatigue stuck like glue. Every time he tried to get up, his legs felt like lead. He managed to shower but couldn’t bring himself to leave his room. The world still felt too sharp, too loud.

So when he heard the knock at the door that afternoon—right on schedule, just like Lily had done the day before—he assumed it was her again.

“Come in,” he croaked.

But it wasn’t Lily.

It was Sirius.

Standing there in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, his leather jacket still on, eyes softer than Remus had ever seen them.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Remus just blinked at him from under the blankets, hair a mess, hoodie on, skin pale from the pain and exhaustion.

Sirius looked unsure, like maybe he hadn’t expected to be let in. Like maybe he was seeing Remus clearly for the first time.

And for once… he didn’t say something cocky. He didn’t joke.

He just said, quietly, “Hey Moony.”

★★★

Sirius spent the rest of the weekend after the party moping—a now-familiar ritual whenever Remus Lupin was involved.

He stayed in bed until Sunday night, when James finally dragged him out by the ankles for dinner. The Potters had a tradition: every Sunday after a win, they’d celebrate at the nicest steakhouse in town. Sirius loved it. The fancy linen napkins, the soft clink of silverware, the way Euphemia called him “darling” and bragged about his game-winning pass to the waiter. It made him feel wanted. Like he mattered. Like he belonged.

It was exactly what he needed—until Monday morning.

Just as he and Regulus were about to leave for school, the phone rang. They both bolted for it, but Sirius skidded to a stop when he saw the caller ID: Remus Lupin.

Something clenched in his chest. Instead of answering, he stepped aside, letting Regulus pick up the receiver.

The conversation was brief. Sirius strained to hear.

“Thanks for letting me know. Feel better,” Regulus said, then hung up. He turned and met Sirius’ gaze with a guarded expression.

“Remus won’t be at school today.”

Sirius blinked. “Wait, why not?”

Regulus shrugged, grabbing his bag. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, Sirius. I just didn’t want to see you spiral.”

And with that, Regulus walked out the door and climbed into James' car. Sirius, seething with questions, took his motorbike and followed behind.

The next two days were dull. Duller than Sirius ever remembered school being.

Remus wasn’t there to make sarcastic jabs about The Great Gatsby, or to roll his eyes at Sirius’ dramatics. Without him, the hallways felt quieter. Class dragged. Even PE was boring.

By Wednesday, Sirius was absolutely spiraling—just like Regulus had predicted.

His breaking point came during a passing period, when he overheard James and Lily chatting by the lockers.

“Yeah, I brought him some soup and sat with him yesterday,” Lily said. “He’s still rough, but he’s doing a little better. I think I’ll visit him again today.”

Sirius practically slammed into the lockers as he spun around. “Wait—Lily, you know what’s wrong with Remus?”

She turned slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Yes, I do. Why?”

“I… I was just worried about him,” Sirius said. He tried to sound casual. He failed miserably.

Something in his face must have given him away, because Lily sighed and softened. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but… he has chronic pain. And he gets these really severe migraines. He used to have these special glasses to help, but they got broken in PE, and—well, he hasn’t been able to replace them.”

Sirius felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

The glasses. His fault.

“Do you know if he got a new pair?” he asked, heart in his throat.

Lily shook her head. “No. I don’t think his mom can afford them right now.”

Sirius didn’t wait for more details. He asked Lily—very sincerely, very gently—for Remus’ home number. Assured her his intentions were pure. Promised he just wanted to help.

At 2:30 sharp, he called from the school’s payphone, just as Remus' mom would be getting home from work.

“Hi, Mrs. Lupin? This is Sirius Black. I’m a friend of Remus’. I was wondering if I could stop by around four… I wanted to check in on him. I was also wondering what kind of prescription he wore?”

She sounded surprised but warm. “Of course, Sirius. That’s very kind of you.” She filled him in on all the information regarding Remus’ prescription as well.

His next call was to the local eye doctor. He was sure he’d need to beg, but by some miracle, they had the exact prescription in stock.

At 3:15, the final bell rang. Sirius ran out of school like his life depended on it. He picked up the glasses and drove straight to the Lupins’ house, nerves twisting in his gut the whole way.

When he knocked, the door opened to reveal a petite woman with tawny hair and soft hazel eyes—Remus’ eyes.

“Hello, Mrs. Lupin,” Sirius said, offering a sheepish smile and his hand. “I’m Sirius Black. Remus’ friend.”

She chuckled gently, shaking his hand. “Of course, I remember, dear. You’re the one who called about the glasses.”

He nodded. “Right. I… I was part of the reason they got broken, so I thought it was only right I replace them.”

Hope tilted her head and gave him a look that made him feel strangely seen. “Well. Aren’t you sweet. His room’s just down the hall, first door on the right.”

“Thanks,” he said, stepping inside.

“Oh, and Sirius?” she added, her voice light. “Call me Hope. I haven’t been Mrs. Lupin for a few years now.”

He smiled tightly, then made his way down the hallway.

The door was closed. He hesitated, taking a moment to psyche himself up. Then, gently, he knocked.

A soft, scratchy voice replied from within. “Come in.”

Sirius opened the door and stepped inside to find Remus Lupin lying in bed—blankets up to his chin, hoodie pulled over messy curls, eyes bleary and rimmed with exhaustion.

He looked up and froze in surprise. 

Leaning in the doorway, Sirius offered a crooked smile. “Hey, Moony.”

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

“Sirius, what are you doing here?”

Remus’s voice was rough and tired, barely more than a whisper as he blinked up from his bed, one hand shielding his eyes from the hallway light. He wasn’t expecting anyone—definitely not him.

Sirius hovered in the doorway like a ghost, his usual confidence traded for something far more uncertain. He looked smaller like that—jacket too big on his wiry frame, hair falling into his eyes. He cleared his throat and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His boots thudded gently across the floor as he made his way to the foot of the bed and sat, carefully, like he was afraid he might break something.

“I, um… Lily told me you weren’t feeling well,” he said quietly, hands fidgeting in his lap. “Migraine. She mentioned your glasses were broken, and I figured… I figured I could help.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a slim brown case. The kind you’d find in a nice optometry shop. He held it out like it might be rejected. “They’re the same prescription, I checked with your mom. I didn’t want you stuck in the dark, not if I could do something about it.”

Remus blinked, then slowly sat up, wincing a little at the movement. He took the case from Sirius with careful hands, fingers brushing briefly. Inside was a brand-new pair of glasses—nearly identical to the old ones, maybe even a little nicer.

“Oh,” Remus breathed, stunned. “Thank you.”

Sirius nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “I know it’s not much. I mean… especially since I was the one who broke the last pair.” He winced. “I was being a dick. I know that. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and then when I heard you were in pain, I couldn’t just sit around and not do something.”

Remus swallowed the lump forming in his throat. No one had ever done something like this for him before—at least, not without wanting something in return. “I’ll be okay,” he said softly. “But… thank you, Sirius. Really.”

Their eyes met then, and something shifted. The air between them stilled—like the world had exhaled and was waiting to see what happened next.

Remus surprised even himself with what he said next. “Would you, um… stay for a bit? Just lie with me?”

Sirius froze for half a second, then gave a soft, crooked smile. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Moony.”

Remus let out a breathy laugh. “Moony, is that gonna be a thing now?”

Sirius kicked off his boots, peeled off his jacket, and set both neatly on the floor. “Yeah, it suits you—all moody and mysterious. I dunno. Felt right. We all have nicknames—me, James, Pete. It’s only fair you get one too.”

He crawled gently onto the bed beside Remus, careful not to jostle him, settling under the blankets with a respectable distance between them. The bed dipped slightly with his weight, the warmth of his presence quietly comforting.

Remus smiled, for real this time. A small, soft thing. He turned slightly, facing Sirius in the dim room.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “For the glasses… and the company.”

Sirius didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at him, gaze gentle. “Anytime, Moony.”

And for the first time in what felt like days, Remus shut his eyes and let himself relax—for the first time in a long time felling safe, feeling like he belonged. 

Remus awoke a few hours later, his room cast in soft evening shadows. The ache in his skull had lessened to a dull throb, bearable for now. What he hadn’t expected, though, was the warm weight wrapped around him—Sirius Black, fast asleep, arms loosely encircling him, one hand curled near Remus’s chest like he had reached for him in his sleep.

For a few precious moments, Remus didn’t move. He barely even breathed. It felt safe. Warm. Like all the sharp edges of his pain had been filed down just by the presence of another person. He knew he should get up—drink some water, eat something—but being held like this, like he mattered to someone, dulled the need. He closed his eyes again, just for a second.

Then Sirius stirred, his body shifting with a soft grunt. He tightened his arms instinctively for a moment before his eyes blinked open. Realization hit fast.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling back in a scramble. “Um—sorry, I must’ve— I didn’t mean to—fall asleep or anything.”

“It’s okay,” Remus said softly, sitting up and adjusting his wrinkled shirt, scooting back slightly to give Sirius the space he was clearly reaching for. “I was about to get up anyway. Figured I should eat something. Do you want to… join me?”

Sirius relaxed a bit at that, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure. I could eat.”

They padded quietly down the hall and into the tiny kitchen. The tile was cold beneath their feet, and the fluorescent light buzzed faintly above. Remus leaned on the counter while Sirius rummaged through the fridge like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“You’ve got soup,” Sirius announced. “And I can make grilled cheese—if that’s okay?”

“That’s more than okay,” Remus said, smiling despite himself.

They worked in quiet rhythm—Sirius buttering the bread, Remus stirring the soup as it spun in the microwave. Soon, the kitchen filled with the smell of melting cheese and something that felt suspiciously like comfort.

Remus took the first bite and let out an involuntary moan. “Oh god . This is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had in my life.”

Sirius grinned, cheeks turning a soft pink. “Thanks. Back when I was younger, I used to sneak into the kitchen at night to make them for Reggie. They were his favorite.”

Something about the way he said it—so casually, so quietly—made Remus glance up. The softness in Sirius’s voice, the small pride tucked into the memory… it made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with his illness.

They ate the rest of their meal in easy silence, broken only by the occasional clink of a spoon or hum of satisfaction. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—it was warm. Familiar.

Afterward, Sirius helped him rinse the dishes, and they lingered for a moment in the glow of the small kitchen light.

“Well,” Sirius said, drying his hands on a dish towel, “I should probably head out. Let you rest.”

Remus nodded, reluctant. “Thanks… for everything. Really.”

“Of course,” Sirius said, pausing at the doorway like he had something else to say. But instead of speaking, he just smiled. “Get some rest, Moony. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll try to be back.”

“Good,” Sirius said softly, and then he was gone.

Remus stood in the kitchen alone for a moment longer, staring at the empty doorway. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them—what any of it meant—but for now, it was enough to know he wasn’t alone.

Remus came back to school the next day, well-rested for the first time in what felt like weeks. The pain had eased, the fog in his head had lifted, and for once he was excited—to see his friends again, to joke in class, and maybe, most of all, to see Sirius.

Lily found him the moment he stepped through the school doors, practically launching into his arms. “God, I missed you, Remus! I’m so glad you’re back.”

He laughed, hugging her tightly in return. “I missed you too, Lils.”

The day was good in the kind of effortless way it hadn’t been in a while. In first hour, he passed sarcastic notes back and forth with Sirius and James until McGonagall caught them and threatened detention. At lunch, he sat under the bleachers with Regulus, the two of them tucked into the quiet as they discussed their current reads. 

At the end of the day, Lily pulled him aside by his backpack strap and spun him around. “Okay. I need you to come over to James’s tonight. Study session.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you need help studying?”

“I don’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “They do. Midterms are coming up and if I leave Sirius and James alone they’re going to fail and blame the football schedule.”

“And you think I’m the secret weapon?”

She grinned. “You’re terrifying with a red pen and you intimidate James just enough. Please, Moons.”

He sighed, pretending to be exasperated. “Fine. But only if there’s tea.”

“There will be,” she promised, already texting James.

After school, Remus walked home with Regulus. They had fallen into a sort of rhythm, the two of them, and it made everything feel a little less heavy. Once they reached the Potter house, they beelined straight up to Regulus’s room—quiet, slightly gothic, and exactly what Remus imagined the inside of Regulus Black’s mind would look like: soft light, scattered books, and dried flowers tucked in old bottles on the windowsill.

“Sketch battle?” Regulus asked, already pulling out his sketchpad.

“You’re on.”

They took turns drawing increasingly ridiculous portraits of one another. Regulus gave Remus bug eyes and horns; Remus returned the favor by giving Reg a full mustache and wizard beard. They laughed until their stomachs hurt and the sunlight started to fade behind the curtains.

Just as Regulus was adding devil wings to Remus’s latest portrait, they heard the door swing open downstairs—then the thud of Sirius’ boots and James’ unmistakable bark of a laugh echoing up the stairwell.

“They’re here,” Regulus muttered.

Remus smirked and tucked his sketchbook into his bag. “Time to go be the academic moral compass.”

“Don’t let them get glitter on the rug,” Regulus called after him as Remus stood to leave.

Remus paused in the doorway and turned back with a grin. “No promises.”

★★★

Sirius was stopped in his tracks the second he stepped into the house, eyes landing on Remus, who was emerging from the hallway with a soft smile on his face.

What the hell was he doing here?

Before he could ask, there was a knock on the door. James turned around and opened it to find Lily standing there, a stack of textbooks in her arms and a wide, scheming grin on her face.

“All right, boys. Time to study.”

Sirius groaned audibly as James and Remus practically had to drag him into the living room. He complained the whole way, dramatically slumping onto the floor like he’d been sentenced to death. The only upside he could see was the chance to sit near Remus—and maybe impress him with his razor-sharp wit.

Because Sirius had made a decision.

The past few days had been hell. Ever since he’d laid in bed next to Remus—watching the other boy sleep, his face finally at peace—something in Sirius had shifted. And then there’d been the grilled cheese. The way Remus’ eyes lit up after the first bite. That moment had solidified it for Sirius.

He was going to impress Remus Lupin. He was going to be the best friend possible. He was going to fix whatever was broken in Remus and maybe, just maybe, fix whatever was broken in himself too.

Only... actually studying? That part was hell.

Twenty minutes in, Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. He looked over to find Remus curled up on the couch, sketching in the margins of his notes, and something mischievous clicked in his brain. Without thinking, he leapt to his feet, practically hurdling James to tackle Remus onto the cushions.

The taller boy squirmed beneath him, half-laughing, half-groaning. “Come on, Pads, this isn’t funny.”

Sirius froze, eyes lighting up. “Did you just call me Pads?”

Remus sighed. “Yes. And I instantly regret it.”

“Nuh uh,” Sirius grinned wider, pinning Remus’ wrists above his head. “No takebacks, Moonbeam. You’re finally coming around. Nicknames? Like we’re actual friends?”

Remus rolled his eyes and tried to wiggle away, but Sirius held firm—until he suddenly realized just how close they were. Too close. His body pressed against Remus’, their faces just inches apart. And then— oh fuck.

His stomach dropped as something entirely unfriendly stirred in his jeans.

Sirius scrambled off like he’d been electrocuted, mumbling something about the bathroom before sprinting out of the room. He slammed the door shut behind him and braced both hands on the sink.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He had a boner. From Remus. Remus fucking Lupin.

There was no talking his way out of this one. No reasonable explanation. He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to calm down, tried thinking of literally anything unsexy. Mr. Binns naked. Slughorn in a tutu. That finally did the trick.

When he returned to the living room, the group had moved on to speed-running flashcards. James tossed one at him. “Glad you finally found your way back, Pads. Remus needs a partner.”

“A… partner?” Panic flashed through Sirius. Did they know ?

“Yeah,” Lily said, deadpan. “Like someone to read with, not marry.”

Relieved, Sirius slid onto the floor across from Remus. The other boy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. They started quizzing, but Sirius couldn’t resist—he began answering everything wrong. Spectacularly wrong. The more ridiculous the answers, the harder Remus laughed.

And Sirius couldn’t stop. He needed that laugh, needed to see Remus’ eyes crinkle like that again.

Lily finally threw a pillow at them. “God, Remus, you’re useless ! You were supposed to help him study, not encourage his chaos.”

“Sorry, Lils,” Remus smirked. “I guess I’m just a troublemaker at heart.”

That did it. Sirius felt his heart somersault.

Remus stood and stretched. “Alright, kiddos. I oughta get home to the ole wife and kids.”

Sirius jumped up too fast. “I’ll walk you. Or give you a ride on my bike—”

Remus waved him off gently. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got my board.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Sirius watched helplessly as Remus disappeared out the door like the end of some coming-of-age movie. All warm light and golden hair fading into dusk.

Stupid. Stupid. Fucking idiot. Why didn’t he push ? Say something ? Find any excuse to keep Remus a little longer?

He kicked himself all the way back to the living room, where only James remained.

“Where’d Lily go?” Sirius asked.

James smirked. “Upstairs. Waiting for me.” The implication was obvious.

But before he left, James paused. “Hey. Are you good? You were kinda… extra tonight.”

“What? No. I’m fine. Normal,” Sirius blurted way too fast.

James didn’t believe him, but just gave a small shrug. “Alright. Well… I’m here if you ever want to talk.” Then he bounded up the stairs with a goofy grin.

Sirius cleaned up the leftover flashcards and books, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. When he finally climbed the stairs to his own room, he noticed a stray page had slipped out of Remus’ notes.

In the corner of the page was a sketch.

Long dark hair. Sharp cheekbones. Silver rings.

It was him.

Remus had been looking at him long enough to sketch him.

Sirius lay in bed that night, the drawing tucked under his pillow, and for the first time in a while, he dreamed sweetly—of brown curls, hazel eyes, and the soft brush of fingers against his own.

Chapter Text

Sirius woke up on November 3rd from the most wonderful dream. He’d been wrapped in someone’s arms, warm and safe, completely engulfed in the kind of comfort he rarely let himself imagine. Waking up from it was jarring, like being ripped out of heaven. For a moment, he tried to cling to the feeling—but it faded too quickly, replaced by the dull light of morning.

Still, today was his birthday. And for once, he didn’t dread it.

When he still lived at home, Sirius hated his birthday. At best, he’d get a curt acknowledgment from his parents. At worst, he’d get a bruised rib and silence. But things were different now.

He came downstairs to the smell of bacon and something sweet. Effie was standing at the stove flipping a pancake the size of his head.

“Oh, good morning, love. Happy birthday,” she said, kissing his head and pulling him into a warm hug.

“Thanks,” Sirius mumbled, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Moments later, James came barreling down the stairs and tackled him into a hug.

“Happy birthday, Pads!”

They all sat down to eat, Sirius stacking his plate high with pancakes and syrup. Reggie joined them a few minutes later, mumbling a quiet, "Happy birthday," as he slid into a seat. He still looked a little awkward around the open affection, but Sirius gave him a smile anyway.

They had school that day, unfortunately. Sirius rode his bike while James and Reggie took the truck. When they got to the school lot, they waited around for Lily and Remus. Lily showed up. Remus didn’t.

Sirius tried not to show his disappointment, but Prongs and Reggie could see right through him. Once he got to class though, there Remus was, sitting in his usual seat, head bowed over his sketchbook, working intently. Sirius stomped over, his boots thudding against the floor. Remus looked up and, oddly, snapped his sketchbook shut.

“Why hello, Moony,” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes. “Is there anything you wish to say to me on this fine morning?”

Remus looked at him blankly. “Hmm… no, I don’t think so.”

Sirius’ heart dropped. Had he actually forgotten? As Sirius face began to drop Remus’ began to light up. 

Then Remus grinned completely. “I’m just kidding. Happy birthday, Pads.”

He stood and pulled Sirius into a hug. Remus. Hugging him. Sirius barely registered it at first, but then he melted into the warmth, catching a whiff of lavendar and chocolate. Remus smelled incredible.

When they pulled apart, Sirius felt dizzy.

The rest of the school day went surprisingly well. They all ate lunch together—even Reggie. Classes passed quickly. Then, at the end of the day, Sirius found Remus and Regulus waiting outside his classroom.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We convinced our teacher to let us out early,” Reggie said with a shrug. “Told her Remus wasn’t feeling well.”

“Well, that’s great. Let’s find Prongs and head home.”

They met James in the lot. As they were climbing into the truck, James turned to Remus.

“You want a ride over to our place?”

“Oh, um, no, I’m alright, I have my board.”

Sirius jumped at the chance. “Wait, Remus, do you wanna ride with me? On my bike?”

Remus looked at him like he’d just suggested a suicide mission. “I am absolutely not getting on that death trap.”

The rejection hit Sirius like a gut punch. “Oh. Yeah, alright. I’ll see you guys back at the house.”

Birthdays used to be something Sirius ignored. But this year, he wanted something different. Just a small get-together with the people who mattered. James. Peter. And now Remus—who fit so perfectly into their group it felt like he’d always belonged. He was the missing piece to their group. He had the responsibility, the  brains, and the quick wit that they needed. They were finally whole with him there. 

When they got home, Effie was waiting with a massive platter of snacks.

“Hello, my lovely boys. I’ve prepared some goodies for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” James said, kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” Sirius echoed.

“Thanks, Effie, you’re the best,” Peter added.

“Yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Potter,” Remus said quietly.

“Oh, please,” Effie waved him off. “Call me Effie. You’re one of my boys now.”

A blush creeped up Rmus’ face, clearly uncomfortable around adults. Sirius didn’t know the reason, but he understood it deeply.

“Alright, boys,” Effie said. “You enjoy your night. Me and Monty are heading out. Make good choices.”

“Of course, Mom,” James called as she left.

They made their way to the living room and picked a movie: Scream . It was one of Sirius’ all-time favorites, and Remus said he hadn’t seen it yet. All four boys crammed onto the couch, Sirius squished between Remus and James.

Scream was one of those movies that started very sterotypically, hot girl home alone, hot girl murdered. As the movie want on, Sirius noticed Remus continually jumping at the scares, curling into Sirius as they came on. At one point even hiding his face in Sirius’ shoulder. This gave Sirius the courage to adjust his hand under the blanket he and Remus were sharing and interlock their fingers, reassuring him. Remus did not flinch away, instead giving Sirius a small, secret smile that felt like it was menat just for the two of them. The world stalled around them, it felt like they were the only ones in this room, sharing a moment that no one else could ever understand the importance of. That was until another jumpscare came on screen, unfortunately breaking the spell between the two boys. 

☾☾☾

Remus hated horror movies. The gore made him sick, the idea of someone so easily slashing open another human. But Sirius made him feel safe. When Sirius grabbed his hand, it was like an anchor. He didn’t flinch—he didn’t want to. 

After the movie, James declared it was time for presents. He gave Sirius a brand-new boombox with CD and cassette capabilities, plus a sick black Queen hoodie.

Remus’ eyes lit up. “Great taste, man. I love Queen. Freddie Mercury is my god, if I’m being honest.”

Peter gifted him a cross necklace and a snake ring that wrapped up his finger.

“Thanks, Pete. These are sick. Exactly what I needed.”

Then came Remus’ gift.

Inside the bag was a scroll of paper and a cassette labeled Sirius’ Mix . He unrolled the scroll—and froze. It was a drawing of him. Hair braided back, helmet in hand, face flushed and grinning. Fresh off a football win. It was the best side of Sirius, one of those moments he was exploding with joy.

“Sorry it’s not much,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Money’s been tight for me and my mom lately.”

“Are you kidding?” Sirius said, voice thick. “You made an actual mixtape. And this? This is one of the best moments of my life. And you drew it. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Remus felt his cheeks heat up for the second time that night. Feeling something flutter in his stomach at the complement. 

“Alright lads, shall we throw on another movie,” James said as he hopped up. 

They threw on another Mathew Lillard movie— SLC Punk this time. James and Sirius chose to sit on the floor, the couch being a bit too cramped. Halfway through, something came over Remus – if you asked him to explain why he did it he wouldnt be able to say anything other than I simply wanted to – he leaned over and ran his fingers through Sirius’ hair. Sirius leaned into it. Remus began to braid.

By the end of the movie, Sirius had two immaculate Dutch braids with a just enough hair falling loose to frame his face.

“Thanks for the snacks and movies, guys,” Peter said, standing. “I should probably head out.”

They walked him to the door, bidding him a goodbye as Sirius thanking him again.

“I should probably go too,” Remus said, turning to the other boys. “School in the morning and all that.”

At that Sirius began to pout, “Nooo, Remus,” he whined, clearly not wanting the other boy to leave. “You could stay the night. Effie and Monty won’t care.”

Remus hesitated. His mum was working the night shift at the hospital, and being home alone made him uneasy and he was really tired.

“Alright,” he said. “Do you have any clothes I can borrow?”

“Sure thing, Moons.”

He followed Sirius upstairs. The boy handed him some pajama pants and a soft white shirt to sleep in. Remus immediately pulled off his own shirt to change. When he looked up, Sirius was frozen in shock.

Remus knew why. His scars. They always got a reaction. Often disgusting people. 

But he didn’t flinch. He learned not to be ashamed of them. They were simply another part of him, as much as his freckles were across his face. Putting the loner shirt on he quickly changed into the pants as well. 

Sirius quickly looked away and changed in silence.

Once both boys were changed Sirius spoke up, “I’ll grab a bedroll, you can have the bed.”

“Oh no it's alright I can take the bedroll, or we can share.”

Sirius nodded hesitantly. 

They settled into the bed, each taking their spot under the sheets, the room dim and quiet.

“Goodnight, Moons.”

“Night, Pads.”

That night, Remus slept soundly. No nightmares. No tossing or turning.

Only dreams of long black hair and piercing grey eyes.

Chapter Text

★★★

Sirius Black’s seventeenth birthday had been the best of his life. No grand parties or dramatic spectacles—just him, his closest friends, cheap horror movies, snacks, and Remus Lupin curled up in his bed. It was perfect.

He woke slowly, feeling unusually rested. For once, there were no dreams, no screaming, no sudden jolts into consciousness. Just warmth. Comfort. Safety. His eyes blinked open, still adjusting to the morning light seeping through the curtains.

That was when he realized he wasn’t alone.

Remus’ arms were wrapped around him, their legs tangled beneath the covers. They were pressed flush together, skin against skin, and Sirius could feel the soft rise and fall of Remus’ chest behind him. A warm breath ghosted through his hair and against the nape of his neck.

It was terrifyingly intimate.

Panic fluttered up his spine as he processed it all. This wasn’t just two boys falling asleep during a movie. This was something else. This was what lovers did. Not friends. Not straight friends. Not normal friends.

And yet, Sirius didn’t move.

Remus made a low, contented noise behind him and pulled Sirius even closer, as if trying to mold their bodies together in sleep. Sirius' heart nearly burst out of his chest.

There was no way he was escaping anytime soon.

He lay there in silence for what felt like an eternity, letting himself soak it in, breathing in Remus’ scent—faint eucalyptus and chocolate. His fingers itched to hold Remus tighter, to stroke the soft fabric of the shirt the other boy wore, but he stayed still. Perfectly still. Don’t ruin this , he told himself.

Eventually, Remus stirred again, this time accompanied by a sleepy groan and a stretch of limbs.

Sirius quickly shifted away, practically pushing himself out of Remus’ arms like the mattress had caught fire. He scrambled for space, heart pounding in his chest.

“Morning, Pads,” Remus said, blinking at him with puffy eyes and a sleepy smile. “Sorry for… um. Yeah. I get like that when I sleep.”

His face flushed, gaze dropping in embarrassment. Sirius watched him, suddenly ice cold with guilt. Of course he was embarrassed. Of course he didn’t mean to cuddle. Sirius had just been a warm body, a convenient anchor. Nothing more.

“It’s fine,” Sirius muttered quickly, standing up too fast. “No big deal. I’ll, uh—go grab you a toothbrush. You can grab a shirt from my closet.”

And then he bolted. He needed space. Air. Something to slow the thundering inside his chest.

He dug through the bathroom drawers with trembling hands until he found an unopened toothbrush, then made his way back upstairs.

When he stepped into the room again, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.

Remus was standing in front of his mirror, sleep-mussed hair falling in his eyes, wearing Sirius’ distressed red David Bowie tee and a pair of low-slung pajama pants. He looked unreasonably good—soft and sleepy, like a dream pulled straight from Sirius’ imagination.

Sirius swallowed hard. Get it together. It’s just Remus. Your friend. Your very-not-into-you friend.

The image of Remus undressing the night before flashed in his mind again. His bare chest. His freckles. The deep scars that slashed across his skin like brutal reminders of some unspeakable violence. Sirius had frozen in place when he saw them, not because he was horrified, but because he was devastated . He wanted to press his lips to each one, whisper apologies into Remus’ skin, promise him he was safe now.

He offered Remus the toothbrush with a forced grin. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Remus said quietly, taking it from him.

They dressed in silence, tension humming beneath the surface like a storm just out of reach.

Downstairs, Effie greeted them with a warm smile. “Morning, boys. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks, Effie,” Sirius answered, settling into a stool at the kitchen island.

Remus, behind him, nodded. “I did. Really well, actually.”

Effie began plating eggs and sausage, humming softly as she worked. The food smelled incredible, and Sirius felt his stomach rumble.

James and Regulus came down a few minutes later, yawning and rumpled, joining them at the table. The four of them laughed and chatted through breakfast before piling into the truck to head to school.

Well, Reggie and James did.

Sirius, once again, watched Remus ride off on his board, refusing a ride, waving at him with a grin.

He sighed, straddled his bike, and took off alone.

☾☾☾

Remus had known this was a bad idea the second Sirius asked.

“Think you could teach me to skateboard?” he’d said, all effortless grin and sparkling grey eyes, as if he had no idea what those words did to Remus’ already overworked heart.

Remus tried to play it cool—shrugged, said sure, acted like it was no big deal—but his stomach had been tying itself in knots since lunch. Ever since waking up wrapped around Sirius that morning, something in him had shifted.

He was in trouble. Full-blown, stupid, helpless trouble.

Now they stood behind the school, the parking lot nearly empty and glowing gold in the late afternoon light. The world had quieted down, as if it knew something important was about to happen. Remus dropped his battered skateboard to the pavement with a soft clack and looked over at Sirius, who was rocking on his heels like a kid about to go onstage.

“All right, Pads,” Remus said, brushing his hair out of his face. “We’re starting simple. Just get on and find your balance.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s easy.”

Remus offered his hands without thinking. “Here. Hold onto me.”

Sirius took them.

The moment their fingers touched, Remus felt the jolt—like static electricity or that thrill you get at the top of a rollercoaster just before the drop. He swallowed hard and steadied Sirius as he stepped onto the board, wobbly and uncertain.

“Okay,” he said gently. “Don’t lock your knees. Just… feel it out.”

Sirius looked down, concentrating, biting his lip in that way that made Remus’ brain short-circuit.

They wobbled. Sirius cursed.

Remus laughed, grabbing his upper arms to steady him. “Relax. You’re not gonna die.”

“Tell that to my kneecaps.”

Their eyes met, and Remus felt it again—that spark, that pull. Sirius wasn’t laughing anymore. He was watching him, gaze flicking down to his mouth for a split second before darting away. Remus didn’t let himself think too hard about it.

“All right,” he said after a breath. “Let’s try moving.”

He gently guided Sirius’ hands up to rest on his shoulders, then crouched slightly to place his own hands on Sirius’ hips.

“Hold on tight,” Remus murmured. “I’m gonna walk you through it.”

Sirius tensed at the touch. Not much. Just a slight flinch—so small Remus might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. And he was looking for it. Always looking for confirmation that this—whatever this was—was one-sided.

“Now shift your weight,” Remus said quietly, forcing himself to stay focused. “One foot on the board, the other ready to push.”

He walked him through the motion again and again, until Sirius finally pushed off on his own—wobbly but determined—and managed to glide a few feet across the pavement.

Remus clapped. “You’re doing it!”

Sirius looked up, beaming like a sunrise.

“Moony, I did it !”

And then he was running— running —straight at Remus before Remus could even process what was happening.

Sirius crashed into him, arms thrown around his shoulders, legs nearly sweeping him off balance as he hugged him hard, face pressed against Remus’ neck.

Remus froze.

He stood there, stunned, heart in his throat, trying to memorize the moment. Sirius was warm and solid and real in his arms. The scent of his shampoo—something vaguely citrus—hit Remus full force.

He wrapped his arms around him instinctively, tightly, not caring if it was too long or too obvious. For a second, he let himself forget everything—the lines they weren’t supposed to cross, the rules he’d set for himself, the bruises from holding back.

Sirius pulled away slowly, still smiling.

And Remus? Remus was ruined.

If he wasn’t already in love with Sirius Black, then this moment had sealed it. There was no coming back from this. No pretending it was nothing.

Because magic wasn’t just something in fairytales or the moonlight. It was Sirius—laughing, unguarded, arms wrapped around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Remus was completely and utterly lost.

By the time the boys were done skating, the sun had begun to sink beneath the horizon, casting long golden shadows across the pavement. The air had cooled, tinged with the faint smell of warm asphalt and autumn leaves.

Sirius glanced over at Remus, eyes soft and shining. “Hey, Remus…” he began, voice a little too high-pitched, a little too fast. “Would you maybe want a ride home on my bike? I know you said it was a death trap—and I get it, I really do—but I promise I’ll drive super safe. You can wear my helmet and my jacket and—”

He was rambling.

There was something so endearing about it, the way Sirius’ nerves made his words tumble out, clumsy and eager, like he couldn’t stop them once they started. His voice trembled slightly with hope, and there was that glint in his eye—bright and anxious, begging not for forgiveness, but for trust .

Remus smiled, already reaching for the helmet. “Yeah, Pads,” he said, cutting him off gently. “You can take me home.”

Sirius lit up like a lantern.

Without a word, he handed over the helmet and his worn leather jacket. Remus slipped them on, the scent of Sirius instantly wrapping around him—citrus shampoo, smoke, something warm and boyish that Remus couldn’t name but had come to crave.

He climbed onto the back of the bike, arms sliding around Sirius’ middle without hesitation. It felt… natural. Safe.

“Hold on tight!” Sirius called with a grin.

“I am,” Remus murmured against his shoulder.

Sirius started slow, carefully easing the bike into motion. Remus adjusted to the rhythm, letting the hum of the engine settle beneath his skin. After a minute or two, he gave Sirius’ waist a gentle squeeze and leaned in closer.

“I’m good,” he whispered. “You can go faster.”

It wasn’t really the bike Remus had been afraid of.

It was the memories.

Ever since the accident, he hadn’t trusted vehicles—hadn’t trusted the feeling of losing control. Cars, trucks, buses—they all felt like cages waiting to be flipped. That’s why he had taken up skating. It gave him a sense of independence, of freedom, of choice .

But Sirius wasn’t a cage.

Sirius was freedom .

The wind picked up as they sped along the quiet back roads, whipping past them in bursts of cool air. The sun melted into the sky, streaking it with honey gold, tangerine orange, and soft lavender. The trees swayed in blurred watercolor as they passed, and every second felt suspended—timeless, golden.

The moment was golden.

Remus rested his cheek gently against Sirius’ back, eyes fluttering closed just for a second, letting himself feel the weight of it all. The safety. The thrill. The warmth that bloomed in his chest and refused to be named.

This was more than a ride.

This was trust.

This was something he wouldn’t forget.

Chapter Text

★★★

Sirius had done it.

Remus Lupin—safety-conscious, quiet, stubborn Remus—had finally gotten on the back of his bike. Sirius could still feel his arms wrapped firmly around his waist, the gentle weight of him pressed into his back as they rode through the evening air. It was like something out of a dream—something that, for once, hadn’t slipped away when morning came.

Now, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the world in gold. The wind tangled in Sirius’ hair, and behind him, Remus held tight like he meant it.

Everything felt cinematic. Too good. Too fragile.

But Sirius didn’t let himself think about that. He just drove, trying to etch every second into memory.

Because the truth was, the whole “teach me to skate” thing had been a lie.

Well—not a total lie. Sirius had wanted to learn, sure, but not for the sake of mastering ollies or cruising down sidewalks. It had always been about Remus . Every scheme, every late-night movie, every question about music or art—it had all been carefully plotted for one reason: to get close to him.

To stay close to him.

Somewhere along the way, Sirius had stopped pretending it was just about friendship. Not that he could admit it out loud. Not yet. Not when every time he felt brave enough to look that truth in the eye, panic slammed into his chest like a fist.

But Remus was… different. Intoxicating, magnetic, quietly brilliant in a way that made Sirius ache. Being near him made Sirius feel like he was finally breathing for the first time in years.

And that scared him more than anything.

They pulled up in front of Remus’ house, a modest little two-story tucked beneath heavy trees. Sirius cut the engine and swung his leg off the bike. Remus followed suit, tugging off the helmet and handing over the jacket.

Their hands brushed briefly. Sirius’ heart stopped.

They stood there for a long beat, saying nothing. Just looking at each other. A soft smile played at Remus’ lips, the kind that didn’t come often, but when it did, Sirius felt like the world bent around it. There was something different in the air—charged, unspoken. Like if one of them moved too fast, the whole thing might shatter.

And yet, Sirius stepped forward anyway.

He wrapped his arms around Remus and pulled him in. A second hug. Longer than the first. Warmer. This time, Remus didn’t hesitate—he hugged him back, slow and sure, like he wanted to stay there too.

“Thank you, Remus,” Sirius murmured, voice quiet and sincere.

He didn’t know what exactly he was thanking him for. Maybe it was for trusting him. For saying yes. For being who he was. For existing in Sirius’ life at all.

Remus nodded against his shoulder but didn’t speak.

They pulled apart slowly. A beat passed between them—something unfinished. Sirius wanted to say more, but the words tangled in his throat. So instead, he gave a half-smile and swung a leg over the bike again.

“Goodnight, Moons.”

“Night, Pads.”

Sirius was still smiling when he got home.

He lay on his bed staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, the little glowing moon right in the middle of them all. James walked in, his usual half-skip to his step as he plopped onto the edge of the bed with a lazy grin.

“So,” James said, “how was the skate lesson?”

Sirius didn’t look away from the ceiling. “It was great. Moony’s just so… cool, you know?”

There was a dreamy tilt to his voice he didn’t bother hiding. His chest still felt warm. Full.

James chuckled. “Yeah, he is. He fits in with us so well. Like he was always supposed to be one of us. Honestly, I was thinking—we should loop him in on our next prank.”

Sirius turned his head, eyes shining. “Prongs, you’re a genius.”

James smirked. “Obviously.”

Sirius looked back up at the moon on his ceiling, heart beating softly beneath his ribs.

“Remus is just what we need to finish the equation.”

The next morning, Sirius and James cornered Remus near the back entrance of the school, where the smokers and early-bird AP kids usually gathered.

“Alright, Moony,” Sirius began, eyes glinting with a kind of reckless excitement that meant trouble, “we’ve got the prank of the century , and we need your brain to make it legendary.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued despite himself. “Oh? Prank of the century , you say?” he mused, pulling a dog-eared book from his backpack and sliding it back in. “Well, go on then. Impress me.”

James leaned in with his usual theatrical flair. “Picture this: the school day... but with a soundtrack.”

Remus blinked. “A what ?”

“A soundtrack,” Sirius repeated, like it was obvious. “Custom music playing through the PA system, perfectly timed to match the vibe of each class and hallway. Dramatic orchestra at first bell, elevator jazz during passing periods, the Jaws theme in the cafeteria.”

Remus snorted. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“And yet,” James grinned, “you’re still listening.”

“Unfortunately,” Remus muttered, but his arms were now crossed in that familiar way — the one that meant he was already considering how it might be done.

Sirius grinned, sensing the shift. “Alright, here’s the breakdown. Peter’s on the inside — he’s got access to the announcement booth because of that stupid student leadership gig.”

“News crew,” James corrected. “They call it the news crew now.”

“Whatever,” Sirius waved him off. “Point is, he already made a copy of the keys. Step one: done.”

James continued, “Step two is distraction. Me and Pads will keep the principal occupied for the better part of second period. Maybe fake a hallway fight. Maybe I get a ‘mystery nosebleed’ again. Who knows.”

“But step three,” Sirius said, now turning fully to Remus, “step three needs a very specific kind of genius. You.”

Remus tilted his head, skeptical. “Let me guess: I’m supposed to do the actual illegal part.”

“You’re not breaking anything,” James said quickly. “You’re just… gently tampering with a decades-old tape deck.”

“You’re the only one who actually knows how that ancient AV system works,” Sirius added. “You did, like, a whole project on analog tech. You fixed that projector in Chem too and your always listening to those damn cassettes”

Remus didn’t respond, and that mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “So what exactly do you want me to do?”

Sirius stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sneak into the office, pop in the mixtape we’ll prep — nothing too wild, just weird enough to throw everyone off. Then you rig the system to rewind and replay it on a loop. Superglue the player shut, wrap it in duct tape, make it look like a monster. By the time anyone figures it out, it’ll be too late.”

James added, “Even if you do get caught — which you won’t — you’re Remus John Lupin. Teachers love you. You’ll get a slap on the wrist and maybe a concerned chat about 'burnout.'”

Remus let out a breath, thoughtful. “I’d need access for at least five minutes. Alone. And I’ll need a double-sided adapter to loop the tape feed—”

“That’s a yes, then?” Sirius asked, trying to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was already pulling out a notepad. “It’s a conditional yes. I’ll do it if I’m the one who gets to choose the music.”

“Oh, absolutely not—”

“Remus, mate, be reasonable—”

Remus looked up slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Then find someone else who knows how to solder without frying the wires.”

James and Sirius exchanged a quick glance.

“Fine,” Sirius muttered. “But I swear to God, if it’s Gregorian chants or whale noises—”

“No promises,” Remus said, smirking. “Now move. I have to get to Lit.”

And just like that, he was walking away, the notebook still in hand, already planning. 

☾☾☾

Remus, of course, agreed to the prank.

People often assumed he was all sweaters and sarcasm, a rule-follower tucked behind books and polite smiles. But he had a mischievous streak — one he usually kept buried. And this plan? This plan was genius. A chaotic symphony of distraction, logic, and low-stakes rebellion. It was practically tailor-made for him.

That morning, he met the boys by their usual parking spot, mixtape in hand and a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Ready, boys?”

“Fuck yeah, Moons,” Sirius grinned back, eyes bright with anticipation. That look alone was worth it.

Second period. Calculus. Phase two. 

Remus glanced over just in time to see Sirius wink — their signal. A beat later, Sirius hunched forward and started violently retching into a wastebasket. It was just tomato soup and oatmeal, but it looked… horrifying.

“Good Lord, Sirius, are you alright?” their teacher gasped, leaping away from the splash zone.

“I—I think I need the nurse,” Sirius groaned dramatically, clutching his stomach like he’d been shot.

Remus was on his feet immediately, wide-eyed and “concerned.”

“Remus, take him to the nurse,” the teacher barked. “Now!”

They bolted out of the room. Sirius dropped the act the moment they hit the hallway, grinning through the fake bile smeared on his chin.

James was already waiting at the corner, ready to take over escort duty.

“Nice work, Pads,” James whispered. “You look disgusting.”

“Thanks, it’s my best work.”

As Sirius dramatically continued his trail of “vomit” down the hall, James helped guide him right past the front office — directly into the path of Principal Dumbledore.

“Oh, boys,” Dumbledore called, voice concerned. “What on earth—”

“Sirius is sick, sir. Like, really sick,” James said, all false urgency.

Sirius gagged again. “It’s coming back—!”

“Oh dear,” Dumbledore frowned, already stepping out of his office. “Let’s get you to Ms. Pomfrey immediately. After I’ll find the janitor to handle this mess…”

And just like that, the office was clear.

Phase 3. 

Remus slid into the now-empty principal’s office, using the key Peter had secured during phase one, heart pounding with controlled adrenaline. He moved quickly, staying low, careful not to make a sound.

The night before, he’d stayed up perfecting the cassette player — an ancient, temperamental beast of a machine. He’d reconfigured the motor drive to loop on auto-rewind, soldered the connection wires to prevent skipping, and even pre-threaded a failsafe in case the tape snagged. Now, all that remained was installation.

He popped in the tape: a chaotic mix of Beastie Boys, N.W.A., snippets of profane stand-up comedy, and even a little death metal for spice.

Next, he glued the cassette door shut, wrapped it at least thirty times in duct tape, then glued the entire player down to the desk. The cord connections too. It would take a crowbar and a team of electricians to undo. 

He pressed play — and as the first distorted bassline of “Sabotage” screamed through the intercom, he bolted. He dove into a conveniently located supply closet just as he heard voices and footsteps rushing back down the hall, all shouting, trying to figure out what was going on.

The chaos had begun.

When Remus slipped back into class a few minutes later, the world had descended into glorious disarray. Students were shouting over the blaring music; the teacher was on the verge of a breakdown. Chairs were overturned. Someone was breakdancing. Every speaker in the school was blasting with no mercy.

Remus blinked innocently. “What happened?”

“Dunno,” someone yelled, “but this slaps!”

For nearly two hours, the school was held hostage by blaring, profanity-laced anthems. Classes were canceled. Students spilled into hallways. Staff gave up trying to teach. Most were granted an early and extended lunch period.

Remus found the boys in the parking lot, lounging near James' truck like conquering heroes. He grinned and bashed forearms with each of them.

“Well done, Moony,” James beamed, eyes full of pride. “Your first prank, officially in the books.”

“Who said it was my first?” Remus replied, a sly grin spreading across his face.

That was when Regulus stormed up.

“Goddammit, I knew it was you three,” he snapped. “And now you’ve pulled Remus into your degeneracy?”

“Correction,” James said with a smirk. “Remus was the mastermind .”

Regulus turned to him, betrayed. Remus just shrugged, lips twitching.

“Well come on you’re joining me for our extended lunch break.”

Sirius reached out instinctively, grabbing Remus’ arm. “Wait—”  He looked at Remus with  a rare complete sincerity, “Thank you moony, you killed it, we never could have done it without you.” 

Remus brought him into a firm hug, lingering longer than he should have.

“Glad I could help, it was quite fun.”

Sirius smiled — soft and real — and Remus felt it in his chest.

As soon as they settled into their usual quiet spot beneath the bleachers, Regulus wasted no time.

“What the actual fuck is going on between you and my brother?”

“Oh,” Remus started, caught off guard. “Um… that.”

“Don’t lie.”

Remus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, well… I suppose there’s no point pretending. I am — what one may call — madly in love with him .”

Regulus stared, wide-eyed. Then he smacked Remus on the arm.

“What the fuck, Lupin? That’s my brother . He’s the worst .”

“I know!” Remus groaned. “He’s a complete disaster — rude, impulsive, emotionally constipated — and yet, somehow, he’s also… kind. And funny. And weirdly gentle when it matters.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” Regulus said flatly. “He gets close, makes you trust him… and then he bails. He left me . Said he’d come back after he ran away from our house and then waited months to do so.”

Remus’ stomach sank. “Reg… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Regulus’ voice dropped. “Just don’t let him do it to you too.”

Remus gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Not like anything will happen anyway. He’s straight. And even if he weren’t… he’d never be into me. I’m just gonna sit here and pine until it goes away or I die.”

Regulus tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Oh, Remus. You’re absolutely fucked .”

Remus dropped his head into his hands. “Yeah. I know.”

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

Finals week had arrived faster than anyone was prepared for, and now the boys sat huddled around a corner table in the library, buried under textbooks and half-empty coffee cups. Or at least, trying to be buried. Sirius Black, in typical Sirius Black fashion, was doing everything in his power to prevent anyone—namely Remus—from actually studying.

A balled-up piece of paper hit Remus square in the temple. He ignored it. Then another one, this time bouncing off his notebook. Sirius was grinning across the table like a menace. He’d been scribbling in the margins of Remus’ notes—little dogs, hearts, and once, a surprisingly well-drawn caricature of McGonagall with laser eyes. Now he was rambling on about some ridiculous mishap in Chemistry class involving a broken Bunsen burner and Peter nearly lighting his shirt on fire.

Remus slammed his book shut.

“God, Sirius, I need you to relax for like ten fucking minutes so I can read.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair dramatically, arms over his head. “But I’m boooored , Moony.”

“Go pick on James then.”

“Lily already kicked me out of their study nest,” Sirius pouted dramatically. “Besides, you’re so much more fun to annoy. That little wrinkle you get between your eyes when you're pissed off? It's just too cute.”

Remus’s heart did a backflip, and he immediately cursed it.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had said something like that lately — offhand compliments wrapped in teasing tones — but every time it happened, it sent a flicker of warmth through Remus’ chest. This only egged Sirius on, trying to fluster Remus as much as possible became a game to him. 

He remembered what Regulus had said weeks ago — about Sirius getting bored, about him pulling people in just to let them go. That thought had taken up residence in Remus' mind like a splinter he couldn’t dig out.

On the last day of school before winter break, Remus noticed something strange. Sirius wasn’t bouncing off the walls like usual, cracking jokes and flirting with disaster. He was quiet. Not thoughtful quiet — withdrawn. Like something had been hollowed out of him.

Remus tried to catch his eye as they left class, but Sirius kept his gaze fixed on the floor. He barely spoke to anyone except James. Not even a glance thrown his way.

Remus told himself it was nothing. Sirius probably just had a cold. Or was tired. Or grounded. Or...

But it lasted.

A week into break, still nothing. No letters. No call. No knocking on his window with some half-baked excuse to go to the diner or ride around on his motorcycle. Nothing.

The silence gnawed at him. Maybe Regulus had been right. Maybe Sirius had gotten bored. Maybe he was done with him — just like that.

After pacing around his bedroom for nearly half an hour, Remus finally picked up the phone and dialed the Potters' number. It rang twice before James answered.

“Why hello there, Mr. Lupin,” James said brightly. “Are you calling with the intention of getting into some mischief tonight?”

Remus forced a laugh. “Not exactly. I was just… um, checking in. I haven’t heard from Sirius. Is he alright?”

There was a pause. A sigh. “Yeah. He gets like this sometimes,” James said, quieter now. “Especially around this time of year. It usually has to do with Regulus. It’s been a year since... you know.”

Remus blinked. “Know what?”

James hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t tell you. It’s their story. But I promise, he’s okay. Just give him time.”

“Right,” Remus said softly. “Thanks, James.”

“And if you are looking for mischief, though,” James added, voice brightening, “I’m always available.”

Remus hung up the phone and sat still for a long moment, heart twisting. A year since what?

He didn’t know. But now, more than ever, he wanted to.

He didn’t want to push Sirius. But he didn’t want to lose him either.

And maybe, just maybe — when Remus could find the right way — he’d let Sirius know that.

Not just that he was thinking about him.

But that he cared.

That he always had.

★★★

Sirius felt like shit.

It had been exactly a year. A year since the worst—and best—night of his life. He thought time would’ve softened it by now, dulled the edges, made it easier to breathe. But it hadn’t. If anything, the memory clung tighter around his ribs as the anniversary crept closer. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He barely spoke. He went to school that last week on autopilot, registering only enough to function. Even Regulus didn’t get so much as a glance. He only talked to James, and even then it was barely more than grunts and shrugs.

Now, it had been a week. Seven whole days spent buried under the blankets in James’ guest room, curtains drawn, light off, refusing to do anything but breathe and wallow. James brought him food, nagged him into showering, and made bad jokes that Sirius couldn’t find the energy to laugh at. He hated this version of himself. He hated how familiar it felt. But he didn’t know how to stop.

So when he heard the knock on the door and the sound of someone entering, he didn’t even flinch. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. “Leave me alone, Prongs. I’m not hungry.”

He blindly chucked a second pillow toward the door.

But the voice that answered wasn’t James.

“Not Prongs,” came a soft, steady voice. “And not here to feed you.”

Sirius froze.

That voice—soft and dry, a little hoarse like it had been dipped in smoke. Moony.

He peeked out from under the blanket, hair a mess and eyes rimmed red. Standing in the doorway, wearing dark jeans and a soft brown sweater, was Remus Lupin. He was holding another sweater in his hands—knitted and worn, a warm, earthy color that reminded Sirius of autumn and bonfires and something unshakably safe.

Remus stepped forward, not pushing, just existing gently in the room. “James told me you weren’t doing great,” he said. “So I brought you one of my sweaters. They usually help me feel better when I’m spiraling.”

Sirius sat up slowly, blinking at him like he wasn’t quite real. His voice cracked when he said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Remus said, offering the sweater. “Besides, I owed you. You brought me soup and grilled cheese when I was falling apart. Let’s call it even.”

Sirius took the sweater and tugged it on slowly. It was warm and soft against his skin. It smelled like Remus—like cedarwood and clean laundry, like the pages of an old book. Comfort wrapped itself around him in layers.

“Thanks,” Sirius whispered, eyes still trained on his lap. “Do you, um… do you wanna sit with me? I hate being alone but James is all fidgety and loud and I don’t think I can handle that right now.”

“Of course, Pads,” Remus said, voice gentle. “Slide over.”

Sirius shifted to the side, making room under the covers. Remus kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside him, keeping the space between them respectful until Sirius leaned in, just slightly, and rested his forehead against the crook of Remus’ shoulder. Remus responded instantly, wrapping his arms around him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like Sirius was something delicate and precious.

For the first time in a week, Sirius let himself exhale.

They lay like that for a long time. Sirius didn’t know how long—it could’ve been minutes or hours—but eventually, he drifted to sleep to the rhythm of Remus’ steady breathing and the warmth of his body beside him.

☾☾☾

He woke up later in the same place, still wrapped in soft limbs and safety. The ache in him dulled. The room was dim, golden sunlight leaking in through the curtains. 

Sirius shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, but Remus stirred anyway. He blinked slowly, then gave Sirius a sleepy squeeze.

“Hey, love,” Remus murmured, voice rough from sleep. “How’re you doing?”

Sirius blinked. “Love.”

The word echoed in his head, soft and dangerous. No one had called him that since Effie. But from Remus, it sounded different — tender, honest, something that made his chest ache in a whole new way.

“I’m… better,” Sirius said truthfully. “Thanks for being here.”

Remus gave him a little nod, one hand brushing lightly over Sirius’ hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, gentle and without pressure. “You don’t have to. But if you want to… I’ll listen.”

Sirius hesitated. His throat felt tight. Part of him wanted to say no — to keep the story buried. But another part, a quiet part that had been gaining courage ever since Remus climbed into bed beside him, told him it was time.

“It’s been a year,” he began, staring up at the ceiling. “A year since my parents almost killed me.”

He felt Remus still beside him — not in shock, not in horror, just… still. Present.

“I got out in October last year,” Sirius continued. “Ran away. James and his parents took me in. But Reg… Reg didn’t leave with me. They wouldn’t let him go. I think he was protecting me. Or trying to.”

His voice wavered.

“I found out what they were doing to him. What they’d always done to us, but… worse. He told me things and I—I couldn’t just stay away. So I went back. Snuck in, helped him pack. We were almost out, so close, but I tripped one of the alarms. I told Reg to run, and he did. But they caught me.”

Sirius stopped talking. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a marathon. Remus didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

“They beat me so bad I thought I was going to die. I wanted to, honestly. But James came. He found me. Got me to a hospital. Monty and Effie filed for guardianship over Reg, and threatened my parents with police if they ever came near us again.”

There was silence. A long one. Sirius felt raw and stripped bare.

Then Remus spoke.

“Oh, Pads…”

He pulled him closer, pressing his forehead to Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius broke. Silent sobs racked through him, hot and sudden. He clung to Remus like a lifeline, like the only real thing left in the world.

Remus held him through all of it. Let him cry. Let him shake. Let him remember.

When the tears finally slowed, Sirius pressed his face into Remus’ hair. “I didn’t think I’d make it through this week.”

“But you did,” Remus whispered. “And you’re not alone.”

Sirius nodded, closing his eyes again. He felt safe.

Held.

Loved.

And for the first time in a year, Sirius Black believed that maybe, just maybe, he was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

December 23rd, 1998

The day Remus Lupin realized—really, truly realized—he was royally, irrevocably fucked.

It hit him all at once, like a freight train of clarity barreling through his carefully constructed denial. He’d left the Potters' house sometime after midnight, his hoodie still damp with Sirius’ tears, his arms aching from holding him for what might have been hours. The weight of Sirius’ body had been nothing compared to the weight of that moment. That realization.

He loved Sirius Black. Not in the way people tossed the word around at school or wrote it into notes passed in class. Not in the fleeting, burning way of teenage crushes. He wanted to love Sirius with everything he had—for the rest of his life. He wanted to kiss the bruises from his soul, to build a world where Sirius never had to doubt if he was lovable, to be the one person who never left.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

He went home, peeled off his coat, and immediately reached for the one outlet that had never failed him: his sketchbook.

Curled at his desk, knees tucked to his chest, pencil in hand, he drew like his life depended on it. He poured every quiet smile, every laugh, every midnight confession and shared silence into the page. Every flutter in his chest when Sirius looked at him like he saw right through to the core. Every moment Sirius made him feel more alive than anything else in the world.

He worked straight through the night. Nine hours passed like minutes. The sun rose, and Remus didn’t notice.

A few days later on December 26th everyone was meant to gather and exchange gifts. Remus had drawn Lily for Secret Santa. He spent two full days sketching a portrait of the two of them seated in a field of blooming wildflowers, the sunlight caught in her hair and a book balanced in her lap. It was soft, golden, calm—everything Lily made him feel when the world got too loud. He had it framed at a local shop and even wrapped it with green ribbon to match her eyes.

But he never made it to the gathering. On Christmas Day, a migraine hit—one of the bad ones. The kind that locked his brain behind a wall of static and pain. He spent the 26th curled in bed, lights off, gift untouched at his side.

Now it was New Year's Eve. The Potters were throwing a party. Their group had agreed to show up a couple of hours early—time to exchange the gifts they hadn’t been able to a few days before, and help set up before the chaos arrived.

They gathered in the Potters’ living room, seated in a rough circle of beanbags and worn couches, fairy lights flickering along the walls. There was a fire in the hearth and the smell of cinnamon cider in the air.

Marlene started it off. “Alright, I had Peter,” she announced, handing him a small wrapped box.

Peter tore it open and immediately groaned. Inside were two mittens shaped like rats—beady little eyes and pink felt ears.

“Oh, fuck you,” he said with no real venom, slipping them on. “I’m never taking these off.”

“My turn. I had James.” He handed over a rectangular box.

James opened it to reveal a shiny new water bottle, engraved with his name and football jersey number. “Pete! This is sick. Seriously. Top tier.”

Next was James. “Alright, I had Sirius.” He passed him a plain brown box.

Inside was a custom patch: ‘Padfoot,’ stitched in silver thread, perfectly sized for Sirius’ jacket. Sirius laughed, pleased. “Cheers, Prongs. Love it.”

He turned to Remus. “Your turn, Moony.”

Remus took the small box from Sirius’ hand carefully. Their eyes locked for a moment—Sirius’ wide, almost anxious, like he was bracing for something. Like Remus’ reaction really mattered.

Inside the box was a delicate silver chain, hanging between his two fingers like the most fragile secret. Two charms dangled from it—one shaped like a star, the other a crescent moon.

Remus forgot how to breathe.

“Pads… this is…” He blinked hard. “Wow. Just… thank you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the sincerity rang clear. He looked up at Sirius, his cheeks pink. “It’s beautiful.”

Sirius smiled—crooked, a little smug, a little shy.

Remus’ hands shook as he set the necklace back in the box.

“I, uh… I had Lily,” he said, pulling out his gift for her. She gasped when she opened the portrait.

“Remus, this is—this is stunning.” She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking them both off the couch.

Lily gifted Marlene a thick silver ring, fitted perfectly to her middle finger. Marlene slipped it on with a grin that didn’t fade for the rest of the night.

Later, the party picked up. Music echoed from a speaker on the stairs. People crowded in, voices blending into one another. Drinks flowed freely—too freely.

Remus, like usual, stuck with punch, simple and safe. He had a few glasses, making his rounds and socializing here and there. 

Something warm spread through him though. The edges of the room began to blur, tilt slightly. But it didn’t feel bad. It felt… loose. He felt warm and dizzy and like he could float.

Across the room, Sirius danced like he was born to move—hips loose, smile wide, his black tee cropped just enough to reveal slivers of skin above low-slung bell-bottoms. He looked like a rock star, some kind of teenage dream.

Remus couldn’t look away. He felt magnetized.

He stumbled through the crowd, bumping into someone’s shoulder.

“Hey, Sirius,” he said, grinning dreamily.

Sirius turned. “Well, hello there, Moons,” he drawled with a playful smirk. “Say, you been drinking that punch all night?”

“Yeah,” Remus giggled. “Had a few glasses.”

Remus then realized why everything was so fuzzy, why his words were slurring together, 

Remus waited for the panic to seep in, to realize he was betraying everything he ever stood for, realize this was the beginning of the end for him, only he didn't realize it, he didn't even care. 

★★★

Sirius needed a drink. Badly.

After the Secret Santa gift exchange Sirius felt like he was vibrating out of his own skin. He’d gotten Remus the necklace because it meant something. A silver half-moon charm anlonside a small star on a chain. Not flashy, not dramatic, but heavy with meaning. It said: I see you. I’m here. I’ll always be here. It said everything Sirius couldn’t, not without ruining it.

Remus had looked at it like he knew. Like he understood exactly what Sirius was trying to say without saying it. Like maybe he even felt the same. Like maybe Sirius wasn’t completely alone in this... whatever this was.

That look had lit Sirius up from the inside. And then, like a coward, he drank to smother it.

Now, after a few glasses of punch, a shot with James, and another with Marlene later, Sirius was properly drunk. Buzzing, laughing, and dancing with a group of friends he barely remembered inviting. Music thumped through James’ house, and Sirius moved through it like a flame, alive and untouchable. He was not thinking about hazel eyes or calloused hands or the smell of Remus' sweater. Definitely not.

And then—

“Heyyyy, Siriussssss.”

Remus stumbled into him like a gift from the universe. His cheeks were flushed pink, his smile lazy and unguarded. He was gorgeous.

Sirius blinked. “Why, hello there, Moons.” He smirked. “Say, you been drinking that punch all night??”

“Couple glasses,” Remus said, giggling—actually giggling. Then his eyes widened with a kind of chaotic inspiration. “You’re kidding me. Wait. No, you know what? Fuck it. Sirius, would you like to take a shot with me?”

Sirius felt his heart lurch. “Fuck yeah, I would, Moony.”

They took a shot. Then another. They danced, they laughed, and they got dangerously close—hips brushing, shoulders bumping, breath mixing in the low light. Sirius let himself forget everything. The weight, the rules, the damage. For once, it felt easy. Natural. Good.

But then Remus disappeared—said he was getting another drink.

Sirius waited. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty. He told himself he wasn’t looking for him when he scanned the room, but of course he was.

He found him by the drink table, laughing with Benjy fucking Fenwick.

Remus was glowing. He was twirling his hair around one finger and leaning into Benjy’s space, nodding along like every word out of Benjy’s mouth was profound. They were standing close. Too close. Arms brushing, fingers grazing. Eyes locked in a way that made Sirius feel like he was intruding just by watching.

It hit him like a punch to the ribs. Jealousy. Ugly and immediate. But worse than that—guilt. He had no right. Remus was straight. Sirius was straight. This was nothing. Had to be nothing.

Still, it hurt. Sirius looked away, grabbed the nearest bottle of vodka, and stalked off to sulk in the corner like some miserable Victorian ghost.

That’s where Regulus found him.

“Hey,” his brother said, sounding wary, making his first and only appearance at the party. “Have you seen Lupin? I want to give him his gift.”

Sirius nodded toward the drinks table. “He’s over there,” he muttered. “With Fenwick. Getting cozy.”

Reg’s eyes snapped toward the corner. His face changed. “He’s been drinking?”

“Yeah, Reg, it’s a party.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “People drink at parties. Not all of us are uptight purist little shits.”

But Reg didn’t rise to the bait. His voice dropped. “Sirius—his dad’s an alcoholic. He hates drinking. Said he never wanted to touch the stuff in his life.” A pause. “Why would you let him?”

The words hit Sirius like ice water. He sat bolt upright. He hadn’t known. He should have known. Fuck.

He shoved the bottle away, heart racing now. “Shit.”

Sirius pushed through the crowd, barely registering the bodies around him. He found Remus still with Benjy, even closer now, unsteady on his feet and swaying slightly. Drunk. Messy. Vulnerable.

Sirius didn’t hesitate. He marched up and grabbed Remus’ arm.

“Pads? What the fuck?” Remus slurred, stumbling after him.

“We’re getting air,” Sirius snapped. “Come on.”

“I don’t want airrrr,” Remus whined. “I wanna hug you. Can I hug you?”

Sirius practically dragged him outside and dumped him onto the garden bench. The cold night air slapped them both across the face.

“No hugs right now,” Sirius said, sitting beside him. “Right now, we’re talking.”

Remus pouted. “But I want you, Sirius.”

He leaned in, slinging his arms around Sirius like a lifeline. Sirius caught him automatically, steadying him. His heart was pounding.

“Remus, you’re drunk, love.”

Remus giggled. “Ohhh, love. I like when you call me that.”

Then, without warning, Remus sat up and kissed him.

Sirius didn’t even think—he kissed back.

God, it was perfect. Remus’ lips were soft and eager, tasting like alcohol and sugar and the kind of warmth Sirius hadn’t let himself hope for. Their mouths moved together like they were made for this—like they’d done it a thousand times. Remus’ hand slipped into Sirius’ hair, and Sirius moaned—actually moaned—at the touch.

And that was the moment everything shattered.

Remus was drunk. Too drunk to mean this.

And Sirius? Sirius was poison. Broken and shameful and dangerous. This—whatever this was—wasn’t love. It was manipulation. He’d corrupted something good. Taken advantage of a boy who trusted him.

He pulled away like he’d been burned. Stood up without a word. And ran.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t stop until he was alone again, heart pounding, guilt bleeding through him like ink in water.

He had ruined everything.

☾☾☾

Remus liked drinking, drinking was really fun. Until all of the sudden it wasn’t.

Until you kissed the love of your life and he kissed you back, only to shove you away and run.

Drinking was fun until you were sitting in your friend's garden, eyes wet, lips quivering, and shivering from the cold air. 

Drinking was fun until you heard your friends count down the seconds til the new year without you. 

Drinking was fun until you were stuck all alone, heart shattered.

Chapter Text

Regulus’ POV

Regulus saw Sirius re-enter the party alone.

His stomach twisted. Where the fuck was Remus? Why the fuck did Sirius abandon him?

Regulus shoved his way through the crowd, jaw tight, until he stood in front of his brother. Sirius looked… wrong. His usual cocky grin was nowhere to be found. His eyes were glassy, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying something he couldn’t shake off.

“Well?” Regulus demanded, his voice sharp. “Where the fuck is he?”

Sirius’ mouth opened, but no quick retort came. Instead, his voice cracked. “What’s wrong with me, Reggie?” Tears welled, threatening to spill. “I’m poison. I hurt everyone.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, fury rising to cover the panic bubbling in his chest. “Now is not the time for your stupid self-pity game, Sirius. Where the fuck is Remus?”

Something about the name shattered him. Sirius broke. His face crumpled, tears spilling freely as he stumbled backwards. Without another word, he turned and bolted into the crowd, disappearing before Regulus could stop him.

“Bloody hell,” Regulus muttered, already moving.

He tracked Sirius’ path, pushing toward the back of the house. The glass doors to the garden hung ajar, the night air spilling through. Outside, voices counted down to midnight in a drunken chorus: Ten, nine, eight…

Regulus didn’t care. He only cared about Remus.

The garden was quiet, cold air biting at his cheeks as he spotted a hunched figure on a bench beneath the string lights. Remus sat slumped forward, barely conscious, looking like a hollow shell of himself.

At the sound of the door slamming, Remus lifted his head. His hazel eyes, bleary and unfocused, searched the dark. Disappointment flickered across his face, like he’d been hoping for someone else—someone who was never going to come.

Regulus’ chest ached.

He crossed the garden quickly and lowered himself onto the bench. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around Remus’ shoulders, pulling him close. His voice was softer now, gentler. “It’s okay, love. I’m here.”

The countdown hit zero. Cheers erupted from inside the house. But outside, under the cold glow of the lights, Regulus held him steady.

☾☾☾

Remus woke tangled in green sheets he didn’t recognize, head pounding, vision blurred.

As awareness slowly returned, he took in his surroundings: dark décor, posters and sketches covering the walls, a faint trace of cologne clinging to the air. Fleetwood Mac played quietly from a CD player in the corner. The hiss of a shower ran behind the bathroom door.

This wasn’t his room.

It was Reggie’s.

Remus groaned, flopping back against the pillows. His stomach churned, his mouth dry. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here, only that he felt like utter shit.

The shower shut off. A moment later, the bathroom door swung open. Regulus stepped out, wrapped in nothing but a towel, black curls dripping down his pale shoulders.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” he smirked.

Remus threw an arm over his face and groaned louder. “Ugh. First of all, fuck you for being so hot, coming out of the shower with that sluttly little towel as I am having a crisis. Second of all, what the fuck happened last night?”

Regulus just laughed, shaking his head as he crossed the room to grab a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. “You’re insufferable.” He disappeared back into the bathroom to change, returning moments later with his hair still wet, clothes clinging to damp skin.

He cocked an eyebrow. “First of all, don’t objectify me while you’re actively in love with my brother. Second of all—”

The words sliced through Remus like glass. His stomach dropped. Memories surged back in broken flashes—laughter, Sirius’ eyes, the taste of punch, a kiss. Regulus must have seen something in his expression, causing him to stop in his tracks. 

“Oh God,” Remus whispered, color draining from his face. He pressed his hands over his eyes. “Your brother. I fucked up, Reg. I fucked up so bad.”

Regulus’ teasing expression vanished. He crossed the room quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened, love? You were really upset when I found you.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Remus muttered, voice trembling. “I kissed him. I was drunk—so fucking drunk. He was just trying to be a good friend and I—God, I took advantage of him. I’m the worst person alive.”

He shook his head, heart hammering. “I know better. I should’ve known better.”

“Remus.” Regulus’ voice was steady, careful. “You’re not a bad person. You were drunk and stupid—something every teenager does.”

“Not me,” Remus snapped, panic lacing his tone. His chest tightened, breaths coming too fast. “Oh God. What time is it?”

Regulus glanced at the alarm clock. “It’s only seven. Nobody else is going to wake up for hours.”

“I need to leave. I can’t face Sirius after that.”

Regulus studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. Get your shoes. I’ll walk you out.”

The only solace Remus found that morning was the wind in his hair as he skated home. The cold air stung his cheeks, attempting to relieve the guilt in his stomach and the pounding in his head. How could he have been so fucking stupid? How hadn’t he tasted the alcohol in the punch? And worse—how could he maul Sirius like that? He didn’t know if he could ever face the other boy again. 

By the time he stumbled through his front door, he was shaking. He found his mom in the kitchen, sipping coffee and plating scrambled eggs.

“Good morning, love,” she said warmly. “How was your night?”

Remus broke once again. Right there in the doorway, he collapsed, tears spilling down his cheeks. His mum rushed to him, dropping the mug and wrapping her arms around him as he slid to the floor.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay, sweetie. I’m right here.” She held him close. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m a fucking screw-up,” he sobbed. “I can’t do anything right. I’m just like Dad.”

“Stop that right now,” she said firmly, rubbing his back. “You are nothing like your father. Tell me what happened.”

Remus sniffled, staring at the floor. “I… accidentally got drunk. Really drunk. And I did something I shouldn’t have.”

“Remus. Teenagers drink. It happens.”

“Not me,” he said, shaking his head. “Not with my genes. Not with his genes. I’m one drink away from becoming everything I hate.”

“Oh, love.” She cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “You are not your father. The fact that you fear it—that you fight it—means you will never be him. You’re the sweetest, most loving boy I know. Did you hurt anyone?”

“I… don’t think so.”

“Then you made a mistake. And that’s all it is. Everyone does.” She kissed his hair. “Now—eat something, take a shower. You’ll feel better.”

Remus nodded, but when he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror later, he flinched. The resemblance was too much—the green eyes only slightly darker, the freckles more dense, the crooked nose. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he wasn’t like his father. But today, he couldn’t stand the reminder. He draped a towel over the mirror and stepped into the shower, trying to wash away the memories of last night.

Sirius. His lips. His voice. The sound of his moan—

Remus shut his eyes and let it all wash away.

★★★

Sirius woke in James’ room. His head was pounding, he was surrounded by offensively red walls, and the sunlight coming in through the windows was stabbing straight through his skull. He sat up, beside the bed was a glass of water and Tylenol—James Potter was a fucking saint.

He downed them and tried to piece together the night before. He remembered sulking in the corner. Why was he upset? He remembered Regulus. Why was Reggie yelling at him? He remembered Benji, being mad at him for some reason. He remembered—

Oh fuck.

Remus.

It hit him like a freight train: the kiss in the garden, calling Remus love, the way his hand gripped his hair, the way Sirius had felt whole for one split second before panic ripped it away. He remembered running. Leaving Remus behind. Hiding in James’ room like a coward.

Worst of all, he remembered how the kiss felt. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was color flooding into a world he hadn’t realized was grayscale. Like coming home. The firm grip and the explosion he felt in his guts when their lips slotted perfectly together. And that was exactly why it was wrong.

He needed a shower. He needed to scrub it off, burn it out.

By the time he made it to his own room, relief and disappointment collided—Remus wasn’t there. He didn’t know where the other boy ended up the night before, hopefully he made it home safe, hopefully he didnt find his way not someone elses bed. God—no he wasnt jealous—he needed to stop thinking about it. 

Sirius entered his bathroom, quickly stripping and stepping under the water, cranking it hotter and hotter until his skin turned red. He scrubbed at his hair, his chest, his arms like he could erase the memory, the want, the part of him that was broken.

After his shower his skin was beat red and felt raw. It was freeing though, he didn’t have to think of Moony. He did his hair, getting ready like normal, because everything was normal. 

When he finally dragged himself downstairs, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, James was at the kitchen table with Regulus. James looked bright-eyed, infuriatingly hangover-free. Regulus looked murderous.

Sirius’ stomach flipped. Did Remus tell him? Did Reg know?

He slid into a chair, avoiding his brother’s stare.

“So, Pads,” James grinned. “How you feeling this morning?”

“Oh, you know. Bit hungover. Otherwise fine.”

“Good to hear. You worried me, mate—finding you in my bed and all. Must’ve been too drunk to make it to yours.”

Relief flooded Sirius. James was clueless. Regulus, though—

He avoided him all day. He cleaned the house manically, picking up bottles and vacuuming, he went for a ride, buried himself in homework. Anything to stay moving. Anything to stay away.

It didn’t last.

By evening, Regulus stormed into his room, fire in his eyes. “So are we going to talk about how much of an asshole you are, or are you just going to ignore it like you do all your other problems?”

The words stung. Especially from Regulus. Sirius forced a laugh. “Don’t know what you mean, little brother. I don’t even remember last night. I was so fucked up.”

“Bullshit.” Regulus’ voice was sharp. “You abandoned Remus. He was drunk, vulnerable, and you left him.”

Sirius’ chest seized. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Remus had never drunk before. He’d been lost, unsteady, and Sirius had—what? Kissed him? Let him kiss back? Then left him alone in the dark?

“I—I didn’t realize,” Sirius whispered. “Fuck, Reg, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” Regulus stepped closer, jaw tight. “He needed you, Sirius. And you weren’t there.”

Then he was gone, leaving Sirius alone with the guilt clawing his insides raw.

How the hell was he supposed to fix this?

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

Remus was losing his fucking mind.

Winter break hadn’t been restful—it had been torture. He couldn’t get Sirius out of his head. Not the kiss. Not the way Sirius’ lips had pressed back against his like he wanted it, not the way Sirius’ voice had cracked when he’d called him love. Those things replayed on loop, every night when he tried to sleep, every morning when he woke up.

And now school was starting again, which meant he had to face him. He had to face the fact that he’d been reckless and stupid and drunk enough to let himself do the one thing he’d promised he never would. He kissed Sirius Black.

And Sirius probably hated him for it.

Or did he?

Remus twisted the thought in his head until it made him dizzy. The memory was so vivid—Sirius leaning closer, moaning into the kiss. That wasn’t just his imagination, was it? He didn’t invent the way Sirius sighed into him. He didn’t invent how right it had felt.

But no. He couldn’t think like that. That way lay false hope, and Remus Lupin did not get happy endings. Sirius wasn’t his to want. Sirius wasn’t—

He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, groaning. His nerves were already fried, and it was barely seven in the morning.

Outside, snow had been falling since dawn, fat white flakes burying the street. Which meant there was no way he was skating or walking to school. That was almost a blessing; he didn’t think he could handle trudging through the cold, alone with his spiraling thoughts. Thankfully, James had called, ever the saint, and offered him a ride.

When Remus heard the beat-up old truck growling up the street, he yanked on his boots, muttered a rushed goodbye to his mum, and bolted out the door. He practically dove into the driver's back seat, pulling his coat tighter, his face half-buried in his scarf.

And then he realized.

Sirius was sitting in the front seat.

Time stuttered. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone muffled—like all he could hear was his own pulse roaring in his ears. Sirius’ grey eyes caught his for just a flicker of a second, and there was something there. Something unreadable but sharp.

“Hey, Moony,” Sirius said, almost too casually, gaze darting away as if looking at him too long burned.

“Hey, Pads.” Remus’ voice came out tight, thin. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

The silence that followed was crushing. The radio filled it—some classic rock station crackling through the static—but none of them spoke until James, oblivious as always, broke it with cheerful small talk.

“So, Rem, how was the rest of your winter break?”

“Um—” Remus cleared his throat, forcing his voice steady. “It was alright. Finished a couple of books. Hung out with Mum.”

“Nice, nice.” James drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. “Pads? You basically lived in my room, so you’ve got no updates.”

Sirius chuckled softly, but he didn’t add anything. And Remus didn’t dare look over at him.

By the time they pulled into the school lot, Remus’ nerves were stretched to the breaking point. The second the truck was parked, he grabbed his bag and bolted, barely managing a quick “thanks” before making his escape.

The day passed in fragments. First hour blurred into second. He forced himself to take notes, forced his eyes to stay on the board, forced himself not to let his gaze drift to where Sirius sat in the back of Calc like he always did. At lunch, he hid away in the art room with Regulus, grateful for the quiet. By the time James dropped him back at his house that evening, Remus almost believed he was safe—that Sirius was just going to pretend the whole night had never happened. Maybe that was for the best.

But then Sirius followed him out of the truck.

“Let me walk you in, Remus,” he said, and Remus froze on the pavement.

“Oh—um. Okay.”

They climbed the steps in silence, their boots crunching over the salt scattered on the porch. Snow still fell, quiet and relentless, sticking in Sirius’ dark hair, dusting his shoulders. Remus’s hands shook as he dug through his bag for his keys, desperate for distraction.

“Listen, Remus,” Sirius began, his voice careful in a way that made Remus’ chest ache, “we need to talk about what happened at the party.”

Remus swallowed hard. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.” His mouth went dry. He didn’t want to be the one to say it. Didn’t want to hear Sirius confirm it meant nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, and the words punched the air out of him. “I feel like I let you down. I was a bad friend. Reg told me a bit about your dad and—I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the way I should’ve been.”

Of course. Not the kiss. Not the thing that was eating Remus alive. Just guilt. Just Sirius being noble, trying to fix what didn’t even need fixing.

“No, it’s alright,” Remus said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s my responsibility. I knew the risk. I ignored it.” His voice cracked, and he bent back over his bag, pretending to search harder for his keys. Anything to avoid Sirius’s eyes.

“No, Remus.” A hand landed on his shoulder—warm, grounding. Sirius’ touch was always like that, like it tethered him to the earth. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve warned you the punch was spiked. I wish you’d trusted me with… with the stuff about your dad. I care about you. I want to be there for you, the way you’ve been there for me.”

Remus looked up, against his better judgment. Their eyes met, and the air went sharp between them. He could feel Sirius’ gaze flicker down, just barely, toward his lips.

For one heartbeat, Remus couldn’t breathe.

And then he looked away. Finally pulled the damn keys out of his bag, clutched them like a lifeline. “Found my keys,” he mumbled. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”

He turned the lock, but before he could push the door open, Sirius caught his shoulder again.

“One more thing,” Sirius said quickly, his voice a little too tight. “I’m—uh—I’m really sorry about the other thing. You’re my friend. My best friend.”

Friend. The word sank heavy in his gut.

Remus forced a smile. “Of course, Sirius. Friends. Best friends.”

And then he slipped inside, closing the door gently behind him.

Upstairs, he collapsed face-first onto his bed, pressing his hands to his burning face. He should’ve been gutted, but all he felt was tired. Tired and resigned. Sirius Black was too good to be true. He’d take what he could get. Being Sirius’s friend—his best friend—would have to be enough.

★★★

Sirius was elated.

Best friend. That’s what Remus had called him. Not a stranger. Not a mistake. Not the boy who ruined everything. His best friend.

Everything was okay. He hadn’t fucked it all up after all.

That morning, Sirius had woken up dreading the day. Snow had piled high outside, which meant no bike—already a bad omen. And worse: he knew he’d have to face Remus. They’d just gotten to such a good place before break, and now all of it felt fragile. He was terrified of losing the best thing in his life.

He’d spent the morning in a haze, pacing his room, half-drafting a dozen terrible apology speeches. Should he say something grand? Should he buy Remus something? Should he crack a joke and hope it landed? He didn’t know.

Then James barged in to announce they’d be picking up Moony. And Sirius realized he had no time left.

When Remus slid into the truck, Sirius’ throat had gone dry. He barely managed the “hey, Moony,” and then he couldn’t look at him again. Couldn’t risk it. The rest of the day passed in fits, restless energy crawling under Sirius’ skin, while Remus kept slipping out of sight.

By the time James drove them home, Sirius was wound so tight he felt like he might jump out of his own body. He couldn’t leave it like this. He had to fix it. He had to make sure Remus knew he was still wanted, still safe.

And now—after their talk outside Remus’ door—it felt okay again. Remus hadn’t pushed him away. He hadn’t told him to fuck off. He’d called him his best friend.

And Sirius clung to that like a lifeline. Because if he let himself think about the way Remus’ lips had felt on his, about the way his heart had all but exploded when Remus said he liked to be called love, then nothing would ever be normal again.

Friends. That was safe. That was enough.

At least, that’s what Sirius told himself as he lay awake half the night, staring at the ceiling, trying not to wonder how long “enough” would last.

Now, after their conversation, things felt okay again. He was Remus’ friend. There was no weird tension, no unresolved feelings. Friends.

From that day forward, Sirius resolved to be the best possible friend to Remus that he could. He carried Moony’s books for him on the days he looked too tired to bother. He slipped bits of chocolate into Remus’ bag between classes. He passed him silly doodles and nonsense notes during lectures just to see him fight back a smile.

And every single time Remus did smile at him, Sirius felt it—that warmth blooming low in his gut, like this was exactly what he was meant to be doing all along: making Remus happy.

He made sure Remus ate with their group at lunch whenever possible, even splitting his own sandwich or crisps when Moony’s bottomless appetite kicked in. Things were good. Really good.

Except when they weren’t.
Except when Remus chose to spend lunch in the art room with Regulus. Or when he turned down a ride home to stay late and study with Lily. On those days, Sirius found himself itching under his skin, restless and sharp-edged. He was supposed to be Remus’ best friend—not Reg, not Lily, and definitely not anyone else. Sirius decided the solution was obvious: he’d just insert himself into these hangouts, prove to Remus how much better he was than anyone else.

So on Tuesday afternoon, he tracked Moony down in the library. Sirius strutted straight up and flopped into the chair beside him with a grin.

“Black, what are you doing here?” Lily asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Whatever do you mean, Lilypad? I’m here to hang out with Remus.”

“Pads,” Remus said slowly, suspicion tugging at the corners of his mouth, “we have our book club tonight.”

“Yeah, so unless you’d like to discuss Little Women and its cultural significance,” Lily cut in, “I’m going to ask that you leave and not distract us.”

Sirius slapped a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “Remus, can you believe how Lily’s insulted me? Of course, I love Little Women. Jo March is literally a badass.”

Remus groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Okay, Pads. If you’re actually serious—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lily butted in.

“—about discussing this book, then you can stay. But only if you behave. The others should be here shortly.”

Before Sirius could bask in his victory, Peter showed up, tossing his bag onto the table. “Hey, guys, ready for book club?”

Sirius’ head snapped around. Peter was invited, and not him?

“Pads, what are you doing here?” Peter asked, confused.

“Oh, Sirius is apparently a proper scholar now,” Lily huffed, glaring. “Wants to join us today.”

“You know me,” Sirius said airily, “just a lover of literature.”

More people trickled in, and then his heart dropped—Benji Fenwick slid into the seat on the other side of Moony, smiling like he belonged there. “Hey, Rem.”

“Hey, Benji. How are you?” Remus asked warmly.

“Oh, I’m good. Hey—I got an A on my Spanish test.”

“That’s great!” Remus leaned in and gave the boy a quick hug.

Something ugly and hot flared in Sirius’ chest. Since when were they hugging? Since when was Benji bloody Fenwick getting smiles and congratulations that should have been his?

Remus turned his attention back to the group. “Shall we start?”

The next two hours were torture. Everyone had clever things to say about the book—everyone except Sirius, who had only overheard Regulus rant about Jo March once. He tried, but mostly he spent the meeting staring at Remus’ profile, watching him laugh at other people’s comments, nod along at Benji’s. His leg bounced under the table, barely restrained.

Finally, when the ordeal ended, Sirius pounced. He grabbed Moony’s arm. “Say, can I give you a ride home on my bike? Roads are dry today, so I got to take it out.”

Remus hesitated. “Oh, um, Benji was gonna give me a ride, but sure—let me go tell him real quick.”

Ha. Take that, Fenwick. Remus was going home with him. Sirius leaned back in his chair, smug.

But ten minutes later, he was still waiting in the hallway. His restlessness boiled over, and he pushed the door open again, only to find Remus still inside with fucking Benji. The two of them were laughing together, shoulders nearly brushing, Benji leaning way too close into Remus’ space.

That ugly heat roared back through Sirius’ chest. He strode forward, jaw tight. “Moony, come on, let’s go.”

Remus glanced up, startled. “Oh—sorry, Pads. We were just finishing cleaning up. See you, Benj.”

He followed Sirius out into the corridor. Sirius exhaled, smug again. It was fine. Remus was going home with him, not Benji. He was Remus’ best friend. That’s what mattered.

So why did Sirius feel like he’d just lost a fight he didn’t even know he was part of?

Chapter Text

☾☾☾

With the start of February came heavier snow and more car rides with the Potter and Black boys. It had become routine by now: James’ beat-up truck pulling up out front, Regulus slouched in the passenger seat, Sirius sprawled in the back like he owned the world. Remus would climb in, cheeks pink from the cold, and the four of them would make their way to school.

They always put the radio on—James usually let Remus pick—and they’d sing or joke or just sit in the kind of silence that felt full instead of empty. Remus treasured those mornings. He loved James, who was endlessly kind and funny, and Regulus, who was his platonic soulmate in every sense. And Sirius… Sirius was everything. Every joke, every look, every small kindness lodged itself somewhere under Remus’ ribs where he couldn’t dislodge it.

And Sirius had only gotten more clingy since New Year’s. He seemed determined to orbit Remus constantly, to make him laugh, to feed him chocolate between classes, to do everything a boyfriend—no, a good friend—would do. Remus told himself it was enough. It had to be.

So when he finally managed to steal a lunch hour alone with Regulus in the art room, he almost sighed in relief. Sirius had been pouty about it—of course—but Regulus had made him promise to leave them be for at least thirty minutes.

Remus found him already sitting at their usual table. They worked in silence for a while, pencils scratching, snow tapping faintly at the windowpanes.

“You’ve been hard to get alone lately,” Regulus said at last, not looking up.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Seems my brother’s taken to following you around like a lost puppy.” Regulus’ tone was even, but there was a glint in his eye. “Is something going on between you two?”

Remus’ head snapped up. “What? No. Reg, he’s straight. We’re friends. And I’m… I’m okay with that.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Regulus arched a brow. “Because I see the way you look at him. And I see how he treats you. Doesn’t exactly scream just friends.”

“Shush, Reg. He doesn’t like me that way. He’s made it very clear—calls me his friend about fifteen times a day. And if that’s all I get, then fine. I’ll take what I can.”

Regulus’ pencil stilled. “Oh, Rem. You know you deserve someone who actually loves you. Like, romantically.”

“Yeah,” Remus murmured, eyes back on his paper. “I know.”

Silence stretched again, until Remus broke it. “I’ve been hanging out with Benji a bit, actually. He’s nice.”

“Wait—Sirius’ mate Benji? From the football team?”

“Yeah. He’s been flirting with me a little, I think. He’s not a hundred percent sure I’m gay, so he’s been pretty tame about it.”

“Well, Valentine’s Day is coming up. You could ask him out.”

“I guess so,” Remus said, though his chest felt tight.

Exactly thirty minutes later, the door creaked open. Sirius waltzed in like he owned the place. “Moony, I have come to save you, my beautiful damsel in distress!”

Regulus didn’t look up. “Save him from what, exactly?”

“What was that, dearest brother of mine?” Sirius tilted his head innocently.

“Oh, just a little ‘fuck you,’” Regulus muttered.

Remus smirked. “I’m almost done. You can sit with us silently while I finish.”

“Fiiiiiine.”

Sirius had barely lasted five minutes before some girls drifted in to grab supplies. One of them—Emmeline, maybe—spotted him instantly.

“Hey, Sirius! What are you doing here?”

“Supporting the arts, ladies,” Sirius said with his trademark smirk.

“Oh, you like art? Want to see my painting?” Emmeline tilted her head, smiling back.

“Why of course. I’m sure it’s as lovely and beautiful as you are.”

Remus’ jaw clenched. This is an art studio, not a damn flirting ground. He tried to refocus on his project, but every laugh and giggle carried across the room like static.

When Sirius finally came back, cheeks pink and a folded slip of paper in his hand, Remus looked up sharply. Sirius shoved it into his pocket too quickly.

“What was that?” Regulus asked flatly.

“Oh, uh—Emmeline gave me her number. Said I should call her sometime.” Sirius raked a hand through his hair, blush deepening.

Remus’ stomach dropped. He hadn’t needed the reminder. He already knew where he stood with Sirius—but hearing it, seeing it, was still like swallowing glass. He forced a smile, though it tasted bitter. “Do you think you’ll call her?”

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. She’s cute, I guess. Why, you think I shouldn’t?”

“No, she’s great. You should go for it.” The words felt like bile, but he got them out.

“Thanks, Moons.” Sirius’ smile was awkward, hesitant.

The rest of the hour passed in silence. By the end of it, Remus had made a decision. If Sirius wanted girls, then fine. He’d stop waiting for something that would never come.

After school, he spotted Benji lingering by his locker. Heart hammering, Remus approached with what he hoped was a casual smile. “Hey, Benj. What are you up to tonight? Want to study together?”

It came out rushed and awkward, but Benji just grinned. “Yeah, I’d love to. Wanna come to my place?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

They ran into James on the way out, and Remus quickly explained.

“Sounds good, Moons,” James said cheerfully. “Don’t put yourself into a study-induced coma.”

Benji’s house was nice—not Potter-fancy, but warmer than the cramped apartment Remus shared with his mum. His room was painted in cool blues, with a neat bedspread, sports posters, Star Wars memorabilia, and shelves full of books and Legos. In the corner sat a TV and—Remus’ eyes widened—an N64.

“Holy shit. You have an N64? Those are impossible to find.”

Benji grinned. “Yeah, my dad’s got connections in Japan. Scored it cheap.”

“So… what do you want to study? Or do you want me to beat you at Super Mario?”

Benji smirked. “Definitely Mario.”

They played for over an hour, passing the controller back and forth, nudging shoulders.

“Damn, Rem, you’re good at this.” Benji shoved him lightly as he lost another round.

“What can I say? I’m a quick learner.”

Remus set the controller down, pulse suddenly quick. He looked up, meeting Benji’s gaze. His resolution from earlier echoed in his mind.

“Say, Benj… do you have any plans next Wednesday?”

Benji blinked. “Next Wednesday… wait, Valentine’s Day?” His ears flushed pink. “No, um—why? Do you want to do something?”

Remus swallowed. “Yeah. Want to maybe get food, watch a movie, or… y’know, get your ass beaten at Mario again?”

Benji’s grin was wide and unguarded. “Sure. I mean—yeah. Yes. I’d love to.”

“Great.”

Later, Benji drove him home, walking him to his front door before hugging him goodnight.

Remus lingered in the doorway for a moment, snow brushing his shoulders. Maybe this could be okay. Maybe Sirius wasn’t the only person in the world who could love him.

★★★

Catching Remus laughing with Benji as they walked out was not what Sirius had needed from his day. He’d already missed out on most of lunch with Moony—his traitorous little brother had stolen him away under the pretense of “art project work”—and now James was telling him that Remus was getting a ride home with Benji.

Benji fucking Fenwick. With his easy smile, stupid floppy hair, and football-player fit arms.

Why the hell did Remus want to hang out with him? Surely a ride home with Sirius Black was more interesting than whatever “studying” Benji had to offer. Surely.

The thought gnawed at him all night, restless energy keeping him awake as he replayed the sight of Remus leaning toward Benji, smiling in that rare, soft way Sirius usually had to fight tooth and nail for. By morning, Sirius had worked himself into such a state that when Remus climbed into the car, Sirius didn’t even try to keep the bite out of his voice.

“So,” he drawled, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, “how was your little study date with Benji?” The words slipped out sharp and venomous before he could stop them.

Remus’ cheeks went pink. “Date? What do you mean, date? Benji and I are friends.”

Fuck. Right. Friends. Of course. Sirius clenched his jaw, heat crawling up the back of his neck. Remus was straight, and he was allowed to have other friends. Still, Sirius’ gut twisted as if someone had reached inside and pulled something vital loose.

He scrambled to cover. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—just slipped out. Anyway, how was it?”

Remus relaxed a little, shoulders softening. “It was good. He has an N64, so we just ended up playing Super Mario all night.” His lips quirked into a small, unguarded smile.

That smile was a knife to Sirius’ gut. He burned at the thought of Benji being the one to draw it out, of Benji getting hours alone with him, of Benji seeing Moony look like that.

No. Absolutely not. Sirius Black was not about to lose his best friend—his Moony—to fucking Fenwick.

He leaned back, schooling his tone into false casualness, though his mind was already whirring. “Say, lads,” he said loudly, catching James and Regulus’ attention in the car, “we haven’t pulled a good prank in a while, have we? What do you say?”

Regulus groaned instantly, rolling his eyes. James, predictably, grinned like Christmas had come early. “Alright, Pads, let’s talk with Wormie when we get to school. We’ll cook something up.”

From the corner of his eye, Sirius saw it: Remus, shaking his head but smiling—smiling at him. Relief loosened something in Sirius’ chest.

Good. Benji could keep his stupid N64. Sirius still knew how to make Remus laugh.

And if he had to burn the whole bloody school down with their pranks to prove it, then so be it.

Sirius had come up with the most genius prank. Absolute perfection. It started with an enthusiastic Remus, James, and Peter, plus a reluctant Regulus dragged along for the ride. God bless Wormtail and his stupid student leadership key ring—without it, there was no way they’d be sneaking into school after hours.

They worked for hours under the dim flicker of hallway lights. The walls were plastered with Valentine’s décor—pink streamers, red foil hearts, and a truly excessive amount of glitter. Love notes went on every professor’s door. McGonagall’s read: “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”—Sirius could practically hear her groan already.

And then came the pièce de résistance: secret “love letters” slipped into every locker. Except they weren’t actually love letters. They were light insults, cheeky and ridiculous enough to keep everyone guessing.

Sirius had the time of his life prancing through the rows of lockers, tucking folded notes into slots like Cupid’s far more mischievous cousin. That was, until he caught sight of Moony. Remus was grinning—really grinning—as he scribbled something on pink paper and slipped it into Benji Fenwick’s locker.

“Hey, Moons,” Sirius asked, forcing a grin. “Did you write something for Benji?”

“Oh yeah,” Remus replied casually, still smiling. “Made a joke about Star Wars. Dude’s a total nerd for it.”

“Oh, nice. That’s… great.” Sirius’ chest twisted. He turned back to his pile of notes, shoving one into the next locker a little harder than necessary.

The next morning, the prank bloomed into chaos. Students squealed, laughed, waved their “love letters” at each other, and speculated over their anonymous admirers. It was beautiful. Exactly as Sirius had envisioned.

And then came phase two. They had bribed a squad of excitable freshmen to dress up as Cupids, wings and all, armed with fake arrows and notes. They darted around shrieking and pelting upperclassmen with glitter bombs. Sirius slipped one of the boys a five with strict instructions: target Benji Fenwick, make him look like a fool. Perfect plan.

Except nothing ever went perfectly where Remus was concerned.

At lunch, Sirius spotted Benji exactly where he should be—by his locker. But he wasn’t alone. Remus stood beside him, laughing softly at something Fenwick had said. And then the freshman let his arrow fly.

The glitter bomb burst across both of them.

“Fuck,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

Benji reacted instantly, brushing glitter gently from Remus’ face, his hands careful, his expression soft. Sirius felt something hot and ugly flare in his chest. Before he could think, he stormed off, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

By the time Remus joined them at the lunch table, flecks of red glitter still sparkled in his hair, catching the light.

“Hey, Moons, what’s got you all glittery?” James asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“Oh, someone glitter bombed Benji and I got caught in it too,” Remus explained, tugging self-consciously at his jumper.

“You and Benji have been hanging out quite a bit,” Lily teased, her tone loaded.

Remus just smiled, the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, he’s pretty great. We’re gonna play video games at his place tonight. Neither of us had other plans, so…”

Valentine’s Day. Moony, with Benji. Sirius swallowed hard, trying not to show how much it stung. He reminded himself: Remus didn’t owe him anything. They were just friends. Just friends.

Still, it felt like his insides had been hollowed out. He needed a distraction—fast. Luckily, one walked right up to their table.

Emmeline Vance, glowing in pink lipstick, approached with a grin. “So, I got quite the letter in my locker this morning,” she announced. “Roses are red, violets are blue, of all the girls in school, I only have eyes for you.” She batted her lashes. “Now, who could have sent this?”

Before Sirius could even blink, James clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “That’d be good old Sirius here.”

What. The. Fuck.

Sirius wanted to strangle Prongs on the spot. James had been hellbent on setting him up with Emmeline for months, and now he’d finally meddled enough to make it happen.

“Oh, yeah, um… that was me,” Sirius muttered, heat creeping up his neck. “So… would you maybe be interested in going out tonight?”

Emmeline’s grin widened. “Yeah, that’d be great. Meet me at my locker later.” She winked before sauntering off.

Sirius forced a smile, though his stomach churned. He’d wanted a distraction. He just hadn’t expected it to feel this nauseating.

☾☾☾

Remus left school on February 14th in Benji’s car with a pit in his gut, knowing Sirius was spending the evening with some girl. He tried not to think about it, but the thought curled around his chest like a fist, squeezing tighter every time he imagined Sirius laughing at someone else’s jokes, smiling at someone else the way Remus wished he would.

But when he got up to Benji’s room, the weight eased. The soft golden light of the desk lamp, the hum of music coming from a speaker in the corner—something mellow and warm—made the space feel like a refuge. Benji’s room was messy in a comfortable, lived-in way: stacks of comics, Star Wars posters curling at the edges, a game controller tangled in its cord on the floor. Remus sat on the bed, sinking into the worn quilt, and for the first time that day, he could breathe.

Benji sat beside him, pulling a small pink note from his pocket. He handed it over with a grin that was half sheepish, half daring. “Roses are red, violets are blue, in a galaxy far, far away, I’d still like you.”

Remus blinked, feeling heat rush to his face. “Wow,” he said softly, tracing the words with his thumb. “That’s beautiful. I can’t help but feel a little jealous of whoever wrote it for you.”

Benji tilted his head, eyes glinting with something careful but certain. “Hmm,” he said slowly. “I think you may have written it for me.”

Remus smirked, pulse quickening. He didn’t get the chance to answer before Benji leaned in, kissing him gently on the cheek. “I like you too,” Benji whispered, so quiet Remus almost thought he’d imagined it.

That was all the invitation he needed. Remus closed the distance, catching Benji’s lips with his own. The kiss was slow, tentative—like stepping onto ice and praying it would hold. He was ready for it to break, ready for Benji to pull back, to laugh, to push him away. But it didn’t happen. Benji kissed him back. Warm, steady, real. Remus felt his shoulders loosen in a way they hadn’t in years.

It was nice. Not fireworks, not danger, not chaos. Just nice.

After a few minutes, they broke apart, both of them flushed and smiling like idiots. “Ready to get your ass kicked again?” Remus teased, grateful for the lightness of his own voice.

“You’re on,” Benji shot back, already reaching for the controller.

From then on, things shifted. Remus and Benji started spending more time together. They hung out after school, ate lunch side by side, traded jokes in the hallways. It was easy. Simple. Safe. All the things his relationship with Sirius had never been.

Speaking of Sirius—he didn’t take too kindly to it. He huffed whenever Benji’s name came up, muttered sharp comments under his breath, shot daggers at Benji in the halls like he could make the other boy explode just by glaring. He did everything he could to make his disdain obvious, and it infuriated Remus.

What right did Sirius have to be jealous? Sirius didn’t want him. Sirius never had.

So slowly, Remus started pulling back. Lunches with Sirius became fewer. Nights spent laughing together dwindled into polite hellos. It hurt, of course it did—every bit of distance felt like a fresh tear inside him—but he told himself it was necessary. It was what had to happen. He had to get over Sirius Black.

And maybe, with Benji by his side, he finally could.