Chapter Text
It came as a shock, as a huge surprise. Had somehow struck him like lightning and left him bewildered and confused.
Strolling along a high bannister, he had on a whim thrown a boggling jinx into a throng of Slytherins below, and then had watched the effects gloriously unfold. When one of them spotted him and roared, he’d flashed them a winning smile, ducked the hexes that followed, and quickly backed away into the corridor, vanishing behind the first available door.
And there, moments later, he’d found himself strangely struck. The room turned out to be a bathroom, small and murky with ancient fittings, and in the cracked roll top bath with griffin’s feet lay Remus. He was dozing, stretched out with his head leaning back, gently steaming water up to his chin.
Sirius stared at him for a long moment, mouth agape. He must have made a startled noise, because Remus turned his head sleepily, but before he could so much as open his eyes Sirius was out of the room.
Of course, the full moon had only been two nights ago, and although Remus would never admit it, it did always take him a while to recover. No wonder he was taking some time out with Dr.Filbert’s Muscle Soak. Must have used a Marauder locking charm out of sheer habit, never dreaming one of the other Marauders might actually happen by.
But somehow Sirius couldn’t banish the image from his mind. He’d caught a glimpse of a private moment, of the one of his mates who was always guarded and off-hand, who did his utmost to keep the world at arm’s length.
And to his huge surprise, something else had happened entirely, something he couldn’t quite explain.
Vicious scars covering strong arms and slashing the smooth chest, long pale limbs under water, with a darker patch of hair around his privates, those big elegant hands, the peaceful face - it was as if suddenly Remus had appeared to him as a man, not simply a friend. And, the crux of the matter was, to his bewilderment, Sirius had found it sexy.
As he strode on towards Charms for his next lesson, he tried to shake off the idea. It was ridiculous, he couldn’t think of Remus like that. Of course he cared for him, as he did for James and Peter, they were close, they were the Marauders! The four of them had many shared secrets and a shared appetite for destruction, and by becoming animagi to help Remus’ furry problem they had forged an even stronger bond. James was as good as his brother, Peter was a source of endless entertainment, and Remus, well... he refused to think any more about it. It was just a random thing, and it would pass.
‘There you are,’ James grinned as Sirius slid into the seat next to his. ‘Get lost again, did you? Who was it this time?’
‘No-one. Been boggling some Slytherins.’ Sirius said darkly.
‘Sweet. You must have hated it though, got a face on you that could curdle milk.’
Sirius nodded solemnly. ‘Regulus wasn’t one of them. But I s’pose you can’t have it all.’
It was the last lesson of the day, and Flitwick had his work cut out trying to motivate his students. James attempted to lure Sirius out of his strange brooding, with mixed results. Sirius laughed at his jokes, but seemed to lose interest halfway through James’ brilliant reenactment of an earlier Hufflepuff Transfiguration disaster. Flitwick repeatedly told him to sit still, to stop fidgeting, and when James asked if he was all right, Sirius just huffed indignantly, ‘yeah, why?’
As soon as the lesson was over, he shot up out of his seat, then impatiently hung back until James caught up with him.
‘What the hell, Sirius? What’s the great hurry?’
‘Nothing. Just want to get out of here. I need some air.’
‘All right, all right. Why don’t you storm off then and go for a walk or a wank or a flight or something, I’m meeting Peter about that Divination essay anyway. See you down by the pitch later?’
‘Yeah, ok.’ Sirius nodded and walked away briskly, robes billowing behind him. When he got into one of these moods it was best to let him ride it out, however much of an obnoxious prick he might turn into in the process. Soon enough, James knew, he’d get over it and be back to his cheerful and boisterous self.
Sirius didn’t quite make it to Gryffindor Tower before he was ambushed. Piffle and Bulge, two brainless thugs built like brick shithouses, had apparently taken it upon themselves to avenge their fellow Slytherins. He was just turning a corner near the Fat Lady when they assailed him, howling like banshees. While he managed to get in a quick repellent spell that had Bulge crashing into the wall, it soon became clear that Piffle didn’t have spellwork in mind exactly. Before he knew it, Sirius had lost hold of his wand and found himself pinned to the floor, heavy fists working him over. He gave as good as he got, throwing hooks and punches and delivering what surely must be a black eye, but the other boy’s sheer weight made it difficult to manoeuvre.
Then suddenly, Piffle let out a screech and recoiled, as if he’d been burnt. Sirius kept pummelling his head and kicked him in the groin for good measure, but Piffle was already on the retreat. He was spinning around angrily now, whining wildly and holding his backside. There was audible giggling coming from the general direction of the portrait hole, behind Piffle. Sirius recognised the two girls, still holding their wands aloft, Gryffindor fourth years.
‘Bee stings are very healthy you know,’ one of them informed Piffle, ‘Good for the circulation.’
Piffle, madly hopping from foot to foot and still clutching his behind, let out an angry grunt. He seemed to be trying to work out what to do, eventually opting for rapid escape.
‘You’ll pay for this, all of you!’ he bellowed and ran.
Sirius meanwhile found his wand and got to his feet, giving the girls a radiant smile. ‘Why thank you, fair warrior maidens.’ He attempted a deep bow, ending with a flourish, but was a bit too sore to quite pull it off. ‘Apisinum hex, nice touch. And respect for taking on that bastard...’
The girls giggled again, suddenly shy, one of them blushed.
‘Need girls to help you now, do you, Black?’ Bulge said in a low growl. He had obviously recovered enough to fight another round. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised really. Always had you down as a bit of a pansy.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Sirius said lightly. ‘Come on, then.’
Sticking out his chin, Bulge rubbed his fists and took a sudden step towards the girls. ‘Like that, do you?’
The fourth years shrieked and jumped back, straight into a figure standing behind them, where a bewildered looking Remus had mysteriously appeared. There was a bright red flash, and Bulge fell, out cold.
Later, after a long tirade from McGonagall, Sirius reasoned he’d misjudged the strength of his stunning spell, earning him a ‘students should not be stunning each other at all!’ and two weeks detention.
Remus was waiting for him outside McGonagall’s office. He would have been reprimanded himself if Sirius hadn’t insisted that Remus was innocent. Remus had just shrugged and said nothing, with that sphinx-like face of his.
‘Two weeks,’ Sirius told him.
‘Oh. Not too bad then.’
‘They couldn’t prove I did the boggling earlier...’
‘That was one hell of a stunner though. What got into you?’
‘Ah, dunno, that arse was just winding me up. Let’s go down to the pitch, I think the others are there.’
‘Yeah. Hang on.’ Remus was eyeing him intently, making Sirius feel almost - uneasy.
‘What?’
‘Shall I get those for you?’ Remus reached for his wand.
Sirius nodded, and Remus wordlessly healed the bruises and his cut and swollen lip. He smelled good, a faint scent of...
‘Not the-’ Too late, Remus had already removed the small gash on his temple, a battle scar from a quaffle kickabout earlier.
‘Really? You wanted to keep that?’
‘Thought it made me look rather rakish and adventurous.’
Remus snorted. ‘You’re better off without it, believe me.’
They found the others behind the stands, a favourite spot for illicit pipeweed smoking. Certain substances and stimulants were forbidden at Hogwarts, yet happily in terms of magically enforced bans the school was surprisingly lax. There was a lively trade in contraband goods such as Firewhisky, Bramble Wine, Jiggling Tonic, Interminable Gaspers, and even muggle cigarettes, dealings which the Marauders had had no small hand in setting up and maintaining.
James and Peter were already busy stuffing a scowling clay pipe with their latest supply of Nepalese Confounding Resin when Remus and Sirius collapsed into the grass next to them.
‘We heard what happened,’ Peter said eagerly. ‘Piffle has a mighty black eye, apparently!’
‘Serves him right, the flabby git,’ growled Sirius.
‘You look suspiciously unharmed though,’ James pointed out. ‘Better than this morning in fact. Even that weird gash you were so proud of... How bad was he really, Moony?’
‘Not all that much, really. I mean, considering there were two of them.’
James grinned and sparked up the pipe with the tip of his wand. He took a long drag, then exhaled a purplish plume of smoke. ‘How long d’you get then?’
‘Two weeks... and knowing old McGonagall it’ll be something pithy, like draining slime from poison snail jars or decrusting toilets.’
Peter burst into a fit of coughs and handed the pipe to Sirius, who poked it a little, earning him angry squeaks from the face that shaped part of the pipe’s bowl. He inhaled the smoke deeply, enjoying its fragrant flavour, before passing the pipe to Remus. Then he settled back into the grass and blinked at the sky.
Remus stretched out too, wincing slightly as he arranged his limbs, and blew out slender puffs of smoke.
‘So, tell us what exactly happened?’ James and Peter launched into a thorough interrogation. Why had they been where, how did the fight pan out, why hadn’t Sirius knocked them both out instantly. Sirius gave them a blow by blow account. They took turns refilling the pipe several times, and after it had made a number of rounds they fell silent, drifting in a pleasant haze.
‘Saved by two dainty fourth years,’James chuckled. ‘You’ll never live it down, mate.’
‘At least those cowards’ll look ridiculous for days.’
‘Prob’ly get Snivellus to make ‘em a potion.’
‘Yeah. Most likely make it worse.’ Peter chimed in.
‘Lucky you had old Moony there, Pads,’ James elbowed him lazily. ‘Without our prime patcher-upper...’ he sighed contentedly, ‘...you’d still be a wreck.’
Sirius nodded and vaguely pushed James’ arm away.
Moony seemed to have passed out, at least he looked dead to the world, sprawled out with a beatific smile on his lips.
Sirius thought of those scars again, hidden as usual under perennial long sleeves. From wool in winter to the thinnest cotton when it got really hot, Remus would rather spell himself the chills than reveal an inch of his ravaged skin.
Of course he was used to it, he’d grown up with the constant threat of discovery, and he didn’t seem to bother himself much with deploring his situation. He even still kept up his torturously early shower routine, established on the second day of first year, which ensured there’d be no question of him getting into any kind of horseplay that might involve a state of undress.
Remus used to pretend then it was because he couldn’t sleep, he’d get dressed and go anywhere quiet just to zonk out again, usually the library with its acres of silent books and its early opening hours. Now, well ever since they’d rumbled him, he still got ready at the crack of dawn, then just slumped back into his bed to sleep on until the last possible minute. They’d never actually seen the true extent of his scars, let alone the bite, until last year.
Thankfully, the scars weren’t nearly as gory as they’d imagined. But the reality of them was still horrible. After his many years of practice Moony could perfectly remove most cuts and bruises, lesions and contusions, yet some of his own injuries even Madam Pomfrey couldn’t obliterate. Dark magic involved as well, obviously, Sirius reckoned. He wasn’t afraid of the Dark Creature bit, after all his own family was full of Dark wizards, and he knew both he and Remus were definitely Gryffindors.
But he’d often wondered how someone could endure such hellish pain, at regular intervals and with no end in sight, and still manage to keep up Remus’ good-natured exterior. Must be steely resolve underneath his placid demeanour, he thought, iron strength. Perhaps to do with the wolf, too.
Peter let out a soft snore.
Sirius quickly stifled his train of thought. It was fine to admire his mates, of course he thought extremely highly of James, and Peter excelled at a great many things, too. He held them all in similar if not equal regard, just in different ways. He wasn’t mooning over anyone. Ridiculous.
Peter’s snoring increased in volume, he began to embellish it with a strange whistling noise.
The sound made Sirius laugh, he could hear James chuckling, even Remus’ lips twitched. When Remus opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Sirius staring straight at him. He gave him a quizzical look. ‘What?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
‘Nothing. Just admiring your fine lupine physique.’
‘Charmed, I’m sure.’ Remus rolled his eyes and sat up, loosening up his shoulders.
‘Don’t mind him, he’s been a prat all day,’ James murmured. ‘As usual.’
Remus languorously stretched his arms and back, making a series of bones crack. Then he picked up the small box of resin and examined its contents. ‘What is in this stuff? Let’s definitely get more.’
Later that evening, after supper, James and Sirius climbed out onto the ledge below one of the dormitory windows and cracked open two bottles of Purfleet’s Paler Ale. The ledge was enclosed by a small balustrade and quite safe, just wide enough to sit comfortably. They lounged and sipped their beers, surveying the grounds. Sirius could feel the first chill in the air.
‘Nice evening for it,’ James said. ‘Hope the weather holds till Saturday.’
Since Sirius had been missing out on quidditch practice due to several detentions, James proceeded to once again detail the fiendish new strategy Lynton had developed for the coming game. Sirius wasn’t really listening.
He made all the right sounds in the appropriate places, but really he was thinking of other things. Mainly of the past summer, how it was truly over now, of the impending doom and gloom of winter and whatever would follow. Everything seemed dislodged somehow, it seemed lately his life had become a trek through increasingly treacherous terrain.
‘...and then Crowe will save the day. She must be the best beater we’ve had so far, I’m glad Lynton has finally seen sense and taken her off the bench.’
Sirius’ ears pricked up. ‘Crowe’s playing?’
James sighed, exasperated. ‘Mate, have you not heard a single word I’ve said. Of course she is. She’s been de-bludgering the field like nobody’s business, and Lynton has caught on at last. He’s putting her on the pitch against Hufflepuff. We’ll be the ultimate dream team.’ He grinned absently. ‘Anyway, why so preoccupied, Padfoot, what’s going on?’
Sirius just huffed and shook his head, shaking off sombre thoughts.
James laughed. ‘Mention the name and the dog comes out. Honestly you’re getting more dog-like by the day.’
They took deep swigs from their bottles. Behind them, music was coming through the yellow square of the window, a lively trumpet accompanied by piano, drums and a jaunty bassline. Sirius found himself tapping his foot along to the beat. He could hear indistinct arguing as well, Remus and Peter having their usual squabble about music. Peter was terribly proud and protective when it came to his Muggle record collection, and he couldn’t stand the idea that his friends’ musical taste might differ even slightly. They all teased him about it, only Remus could be bothered to actually engage in a hearty debate.
‘This isn’t bad,’ James said, sounding surprised. ‘What’s got into Pete?’
‘Belongs to Remus, only got it yesterday. Owled for it.’
‘Is this the one he’s been banging on about?’
‘Yeah what was it, Pincey Crinkle and the Pick-Up Sticks. Must be ancient, you know from that shop in the back pages of the Quibbler. Listen to Pete hating it.’
Inside, Peter was now working himself up into a lather, his voice rising in pitch and speed, until the record was stopped abruptly. They could hear Remus laughing.
‘Right, Pete, how about this one then?’
A few moments later the crackling Muggle device started on what must be the most exuberant piece of industrial grade noise it had yet encountered.
Predictably, Peter didn’t like this sound either. Still laughing, Remus escaped his tirade by climbing out to sit on the window sill.
‘Merlin’s beard, Moony, what on earth is this?’
He shrugged. ‘American muggle band, just released. They use things from car factories, you know, industrial mixers, and so on. Don’t you like it? I think it’s sort of... cathartic.’
James snorted loudly. ‘Bollocks, Moony, it’s just a load of noise. I much prefer the other one, Pimply Crimple or whatever his name is, I mean, you need at least a melody.’
‘This does have a melody, you idiot,’ Sirius said. ‘And a good rhythm and everything. How’d you find it?'
Before Remus could answer, the record was stopped abruptly, followed by loud banging and arguing, obviously none of the other Gryffindors was impressed by the sound, either.
James couldn’t resist the promise of mayhem, got up and dived past Remus back into the room, hoping to join an epic pillow fight or similar.
‘I don’t know, read about it somewhere,’ Remus said vaguely. ‘Pass me that beer?’
‘Last one. Let’s share it.’ Sirius fumbled for wand or lighter to open the bottle. Remus made a small squeezing gesture, and the top popped neatly off.
‘I can’t believe you still don’t know how to do that,’ Remus grinned. ‘You should really work on your wandless magic.’
‘Yeah, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks. Or as you insist on pretending it is.’
‘Says the animagus. Actually, I’ve got a new one, hang on.’ Remus made a concentrating face, but otherwise didn’t move. Then Sirius’ right thigh was hit by a generous Chinese burn.
‘What? I feel - er - nothing...’ he said, unable to suppress a grimace. ‘How do you -?’
Remus smiled. ‘Really simple hex, found it in some book, I’ll show you it later.’ He reached for the bottle and drank. ‘Maybe I should teach you a few things. Might save you getting beaten up again as well.’
That evening, Sirius remembered the Chinese burn somewhat fondly. He wondered what it meant. Most probably Moony had just fired at him randomly, but still, on his thigh, it had felt almost intimate somehow.
And at this point, having tossed and turned for ages and tried to think rousing thoughts about several girls that failed to rouse anything much, he decided it was time to man up and face the music. As shocked he’d been at its sudden revelation, if he was brutally honest, this crush had been in the making for a while now.
There’d always been something curious about Remus. People thought of him as quiet, studious and friendly, but they didn't know the half of it. They didn’t realise that the otherwise polite and softly spoken young man would when pushed swear like a navvy, that he had a wicked sense of humour and could easily be coaxed into fits of raucous laughter.
Remus was capable of dreaming up all sorts of pranks while acting as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and he remained so calm and unperturbed under questioning that he'd spared them countless well-deserved detentions.
Then that mischievous smile would steal across his face and they knew they’d be in for another, usually well researched, gem of an idea.
And then of course there was the wolf. As much as Remus wouldn’t allow that aspect to define him, Sirius couldn't help but admire how he was able to deal with it, how he was taking it all in his stride.
Sirius couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live with a beast inside him. A thing that wanted to kill, that made him tear himself to shreds at regular intervals, that caused an otherwise innocent person so much anguish and self loathing.
Ever since they’d found out, Sirius had felt a powerful urge to protect his friend from his condition, and to defend him against all the unwarranted hostility and prejudice he was bound to encounter.
Back when their theory of his lycanthropy was confirmed, it seemed to explain certain contradictions about young Remus Lupin. Things like why this gentle, lanky bookworm, with no particular interest in sports and an aversion to fights, was significantly stronger than any of them, and sometimes seemed to move with astonishing speed.
Or why Remus was always ready to lend an ear, or a hand, or a shoulder to cry on, to absolutely anyone, but shied away from even his best friends getting too close to him.
Sirius knew James inside out, and what there was to know about Peter, but Remus continued to be a bit of a mystery. There was something about Remus that no-one was allowed to touch, and over the past year or so Sirius had increasingly found himself wanting to.
And now he’d apparently started fancying him as well.
It wasn’t even the fact that Remus was a bloke. That bit was frankly surprising, but it might open up a whole new world of experience. He’d heard that Muggles by and large took a dim view of same sex relationships, but among wizards only people like his parents would bat an eyelid, which was if anything a bonus.
But one of his best mates? That just seemed wrong, or at the very least highly inconvenient. How could he be lusting after someone he spent so much time with, who slept only a few yards away, and had done for the past five and a half years? They’d all think of him as a pervert if they ever found out.
And that was the other thing. Lusting after. Ever since this morning he’d somehow been very aware of Remus’ physical presence - his tall and lean body, his hands, his scent. Could he imagine kissing him, holding him, touching...? He could, quite easily. In fact he rather liked the idea of snogging Remus.
He didn’t allow himself to imagine anything further. Would Remus even consider going out with a bloke, let alone think of Sirius in this light? It didn’t seem very likely.
None of this could ever happen, the sooner he snapped out of this weird state of mind the better.