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1 : The Gryffindor Common Room (3rd Year)
The Gryffindor common room was seldom quiet, but on weekdays after midnight, the crowd would begin to thin, the only remaining sounds being the quiet scratching of quills on parchment and the crackling of the fire.
Remus sat in his favourite armchair, the fire casting long, dancing shadows, lost in the intricate lore of A Brief History of Forbidden Dark Arts.
He was in the middle of a particularly fascinating chapter on the psychological effects of curses when a pair of cold, ring-laden hands covered his eyes.
"Guess who, Moony.”
Remus didn’t move, though his lips twitched. "Given that I can smell expensive hair potion, muggle cologne, and the distinct scent of Ogden's Firewhisky... I’m going to go with Regulus.”
Sirius snorted, abandoning the blindfold approach to flop dramatically onto the armrest of Remus's chair. His long, black hair fell over his face.
"You’re no fun. What are you reading? Still trying to find a loophole in Kettleburn’s O.W.L. curriculum? You do realise we have two years, yes?”
"I’m reading to avoid having to explain to you why you can't transfigure Snape’s hair into a snake, Padfoot," Remus said, his voice mild but firm, not taking his eyes off the page. “And besides, there’s no such thing as too prepared.”
“Of course there is, mon ami!" Sirius declared, sliding down to drape himself over Remus's lap, leaning his back against the armrest. He started fiddling with the hem of Remus’s sweater. "Why read, anyway? I’m right here. Far more interesting than a dusty book.”
Remus finally looked down, his heart doing a strange, stuttering skip-hop-jump in his chest. Sirius was looking up at him, gray eyes sparkling, lips tipped in a charming smirk that usually got him whatever he wanted.
“I am trying to study, Sirius," Remus said, his attempt to sound stern resolutely failing due to the pleading expression on his friend’s face.
“Please Moons," Sirius pouted, drawing it out until an agitated Fabian threw his Ancient Runes textbook at him. Sirius scowled, pulling at a loose thread on Remus’s sweater.
Remus sighed, closing the book with a heavy thump, knowing he wouldn't get another word in tonight.
“Your idiotic mission to get me to fail DADA is working.”
Sirius beamed, and Remus rolled his eyes affectionately, oblivious to the fact that his "mission" was to make Remus’s heart race, not just to annoy him.
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2 : The Library, History section (4th Year)
The library was quiet, a stark contrast to the insanity currently taking over the Gryffindor common room.
James, on seeing the despaired state of all the fourth year students after a particularly rough week of classes, had proposed a party, and by now at least half of the common room were drunk, or stoned or both.
Remus, who had actually wanted to finish his homework before McGonagall finished him, had snuck away to the library when Peter started screaming the lyrics of “Don’t Stop Me Now” in a well meaning but misguided effort to woo the fair lady Macdonald.
He pushed his Astrology book away in favour of his Charms one, only to see a foot land on top of it.
Remus looked up, irritated. Sirius sat opposite him, looking utterly bored, having not brought a single thing to study.
“Why on earth did you come to the library with me if you were just going to act like a pillock?” Remus swatted his foot off the textbook, and wiped it off on Sirius’ Queen shirt.
"I need your help," Sirius said dramatically, lounging back in the chair with his feet up on the table, right next to Remus’s notes.
“Should’ve asked nicely then,” he said, pushing Sirius’ feet away from the parchment.
Sirius sighed. “Moons.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
Sirius huffed.
“Darling, indispensable, Moony, what may one do in order to convince one’s best friend to pay attention to them?”
Remus smirked.
“One may begin by allowing them to finish their Charms work.”
Sirius rolled his eyes heavenward.
“One may also take this as an opportunity to study, so that one does not fail their O.W.L.s,” Remus continued, dipping his quill in ink and scrawling a note in the column of the textbook.
“Remus, you are not helping.”
“Ah, you may think that, Cariad, but I am helping. Helping you not fail.”
Remus smacked the book shut to hide his annotations from a suspicious Ms. Pince, effectively startling Sirius.
"Not that kind of help," Sirius said, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands, completely violating Remus’s personal space. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I am bored. Entertain me.”
"Read a book, Pads.”
"Books are boring. You’re not boring." Sirius smiled, that lazy, dangerous smile that had been making Remus’s knees weak since second year. He reached out and snatched a book from the stack on Remus's lap.
"Padfoot! That’s from the Restricted Section! Pince’ll be so mad if she notices.”
"Then it must be exciting!" Sirius grinned, opening it randomly. "Ah, The Darkest Incantations of the 14th Century. Lovely. Shall we try the one that makes your nose turn into a carrot?”
"Give it back." Remus reached for it, but Sirius held it out of reach, laughing.
The battle of wits continued until Madam Pince did notice, and they were thrown out of the library, Remus scowling and Sirius looking far too pleased with himself, having spent the last twenty minutes making Remus laugh instead of studying.
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3: The Gryffindor Common Room
The day before the full moon was always tense.
Remus preferred to spend it in a corner, not moving much and trying to prevent any outbursts of anger that he seemed prone to. He was reading a novel, something mindless to distract him from the headache taking more and more of his energy.
Sirius and James were playing Gobstones, but Sirius was losing interest rapidly. He kept watching Remus.
Finally, Sirius threw his final Gobstone, not caring that it landed in a cup, and wandered over. He sat next to Remus, far closer than necessary, so their shoulders were touching.
"You look stressed, Moony," Sirius said, reaching for the book.
Remus didn't fight him for it this time; he was too tired. "Just tired, Padfoot.”
"Let me help," Sirius said, grabbing a handful of Remus's hair.
"Ow, Sirius.”
"I'm giving you a scalp massage," Sirius insisted, moving his fingers into the hair at the nape of Remus's neck.
Remus felt the tension in his body slowly start melting away.
Sirius knew exactly how to make him feel better, how to relax him. Sirius was looking down at him, his expression surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to his usual miscreant demeanor.
"Better?" Sirius asked softly.
"Mhmm," Remus muttered, closing his eyes, enjoying the touch. He didn't notice the way Sirius's expression was less I am doing something nice for my friend, and more of an intense, longing look that seemed to scream I want to give this boy everything.
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4 : The Library, Restricted section (January, 5th year)
Their O.W.L.s were fast coming, and downtime was scarce. They were in the library, frustrated murmurs and flipping of pages the only noises being permitted by Madam Pince.
Remus was reviewing a dossier on the importance of Gruld the Gruesome in Third Goblin Rebellion, wondering how such an irritated species managed to found Gringotts, especially between their thousands of riots.
Sirius appeared at his shoulder, with a quill stuck in his hair. He leaned over, looking at the papers. "You know, all this staring is going to make you go blind.”
"And not having this memorised will get me a Troll, Sirius," Remus said sharply, his nerves frayed.
"You aren’t going to fail," Sirius said, brushing his hand against Remus's arm. "You’re too good.”
He rest his chin on Remus’ shoulder. ”You’re working too hard. Take a break.”
"I don't have time for a break.”
Sirius leaned his head on Remus’. ”But I have time. And you know, I’m excellent at taking breaks.”
Remus frowned slightly, shuffling through his notes until he found what he wanted.
“Sirius, I’m too busy. I need to finish this”
“Its nearly one in the morning, mon chéri.” He brushed hair out of the studying boy’s eyes.
Remus had to hide his blush, but he didn't look up from his notes. He was used to Sirius’s antics, the constant need for attention, the incessent flirting. It almost didn’t affect him anymore.
Almost.
"I’m busy, Sirius.”
"Fine," Sirius said, “But after finishing this Rebellion, we are going to bed.”
Remus sighed and finally looked at him, their faces only inches apart. “We?”
“I can wait for you," Sirius said, settling into the chair next to Remus and laying his head on his shoulder, so as to read with him.
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Half an hour later, when he was finally done with his work, he looked down at Sirius, who lay asleep with his head on Remus’ shoulder and their legs tangled with a sense of ease that made something in Remus’ stomach churn. He tidied up, putting all his books in his satchel, and lifted Sirius, allowing him to sleepily wrap his legs around his waist and started towards Gryffindor tower. After laying Sirius on the sheets, he brushed the hair out of Sirius’ sleeping face, and hesitated, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. As he made to walk away, he felt a hand grasp his. He turned to see Sirius blinking sleepily at him, and smiled.
“Yes, Cariad?”
“Stay? Please?”
Remus smiled and lay down in the space Sirius had cleared for him.
“Always.”
Sirius smiled sleepily against his bicep, having latched himself onto Remus already.
“G’night Moons.”
“Goodnight Padfoot.”
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6 : The Gryffindor Dormitory (Early 6th Year)
The dormitory was silent. Not the comfortable silence Remus had come to associate with late nights and low-burning candles, but something heavier that weighed on one like clothes in a storm.
Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the windowpanes, a dull, persistent tapping that filled the spaces where laughter usually lived.
Remus sat cross-legged on his bed, a book open but untouched in his lap. He had been staring at the same paragraph for the better part of ten minutes, not reading so much as waiting. Sirius had been clammed up for weeks now. Not broken—never that. Sirius Black didn’t break. He burned, or lashed out, or laughed too loudly—but this quiet drifting version of him was something else entirely.
The door creaked open.
Remus looked up.
Sirius slipped inside, shutting it behind him with a soft click. His hair was windswept, his tie half undone, like he’d forgotten midway through doing it properly. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Remus.
“Moons.”
His voice was rough—not from disuse, but from something deeper. Remus closed the book gently.
“Padfoot.”
A pause. Then, quietly, almost hesitant:
“Will you read to me?”
Remus blinked. Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging like it didn’t matter, like he hadn’t just asked for something fragile.
“Anything is fine. I don’t care. You read all the time anyway, thought I might as well benefit.”
Remus didn’t say ‘you’ve never asked me that before’ or ‘what’s wrong or you don’t have to pretend with me’. Instead, he shifted, patting the space beside him.
Sirius didn’t smirk. Not after Monty and Mia’s deaths. He crossed the room in a few long strides, dropping onto the bed with less theatrical flair than usual. Their shoulders brushed, then stayed that way.
Remus picked up the book again, glancing down at the page as if reacquainting himself with it.
“What is it?” Sirius asked.
“Something dull about early defensive enchantments,” Remus said lightly. “You’ll hate it.”
“Good,” Sirius murmured, leaning sideways until his head rested against Remus’s shoulder. “I don’t have to think for it.”
Remus swallowed, then began to read.
His voice was soft, steady. Despite Sirius’ pretense of finding the book boring, he never actually tuned out. The words themselves were dense, academic, full of theory and footnotes, but Remus read them like they mattered.
Sirius didn’t interrupt. He didn’t make jokes or reach for the book or complain about pronunciation. He just listened. At some point, his hand found the hem of Remus’s sleeve, fingers curling there, brushing against Remus’ palm.
Remus didn’t stop reading. He adjusted slightly instead, angling himself so Sirius rested more comfortably against him.
“…and thus, the counter-curse requires not force, but precision,” Remus continued, voice dipping softer as Sirius shifted closer, “as excessive magical output may—”
“Moons?”
Remus paused. “Yeah?” He waited for Sirius to say something but instead of words he felt a hand on his. He smiled gently, then shifted the book to his other hand and let his fingers intertwine with Sirius’.
Sirius’s breathing evened out gradually, the tension that had been coiled tight in his shoulders unwinding piece by piece. His grip on Remus’ hand loosened, though he didn’t let go entirely.
Remus kept reading long after the chapter ended.
He switched books at some point—something lighter, a novel he knew Sirius would pretend to mock if he were fully himself. He didn’t announce the change.
A faint huff of breath—almost a laugh—ghosted against Remus’s shoulder.
“Thought you said boring,” Sirius murmured, eyes still closed.
“I lied,” Remus said.
“Shocking.” He paused.“Thanks.”
Remus’s throat tightened, but he kept his voice even. “Anytime, Pads.”
Sirius shifted again, this time sliding down until he was half lying across Remus’s lap, like he always did- like nothing had changed, and everything had.
Remus hesitated only a second before adjusting the book to read above him.
He slowly let go of Sirius’ hand, then settled, tentatively, in Sirius’s hair.
Sirius stilled, then leaned into it.
Remus continued reading. Sirius didn’t ask him to stay. He didn’t need to.
By the time his breathing had evened, Remus had kept the book aside, and was threading through the other boy’s hair, braiding small sections of it until he felt Sirius shift. He looked down at Sirius. He saw the softened edges, the absence of defiance. The grief Sirius would never name out loud.
Remus brushed a strand of hair from his face.
Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
“I love you,” he murmured, too soft to wake him.
Sirius shifted slightly, unconsciously closer.
Remus stayed. For Sirius, he would always stay.
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+ 1
It was a Sunday. Rain was hammering against the window of their dorm. Remus was curled up in an armchair, reading a book by Edgar Allen Poe.
Sirius was pacing. He was acting more erratic than usual, unable to sit still, constantly glancing at Remus.
"Sirius, if you don’t stop pacing, I’m going to turn you into a lamp," Remus said, not looking up.
Sirius stopped. He walked over to the armchair and, without warning, sat on the edge of the seat, right on top of Remus’s legs.
"What are you doing?" Remus asked, bewildered.
"You aren't reading," Sirius said, his voice unusually strained.
"I was reading.”
"You were looking at the words. But you weren't reading." Sirius was looking at him with an intensity that made Remus’s breath catch. The gray eyes were dark, filled with a raw emotion that Remus could not quite decipher.
“Sirius?"
"Why do you do it?" Sirius asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Read? Because I like—“
“No." Sirius placed his hand on the Remus’ arm. "Why do you always hide in the books? Why are you always gone? Every time I look at you, it’s like you’re… its like you’re somewhere else.”
Remus was stunned. "I... I just like to read, Sirius. It's how I…"
"It’s how you escape,” Sirius murmured, folding into himself. “It’s how you escape me. You’re always so far away, and I’m right here, but it’s like I’m never even there. But I’ve always been right here,” He trailed off, fidgeting with his cuff.
"Sirius," Remus whispered.
"I’m in love with you.” Sirius whispered, the confession slipping out as thought it had to, as though nothing else could ever be true. As if nothing else ever had been true.
"I’m in love with you, chérie, and it is… it’s killing me. I cannot take one more second of you looking at a book when I am looking at you!”
Silence fell in the room, the sound of the rain filling the space.
Remus was stunned. Pining? Sirius?
"You... you love me?" Remus said, his voice breaking.
“Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since second year, when you read that boring book on Transfiguration and I wanted to rip it out of your hands and have you look at me.” Sirius was talking so softly he could barely hear him, but tears were welling in his eyes.
Remus felt a surge of emotion, a wave of relief and joy that was so strong it made him dizzy. He brought his hand to Sirius’ cheek and wiped away the hot tears streaming down.
"I thought..." Remus said, pulling Sirius closer. "I thought you were just... joking. That you were just the way you are with everyone. You flirt with everyone. Its your thing, y’know- the bad boy who, against all odds, actually cares.”
“Moons." Sirius said, taking a step closer. “I do not flirt with everyone, I flirt with you. I don’t even act that way around others. I act like that around of you. Because of you You are everything to me, mon amour.”
Remus looked at him, really looked at him—the desperate, loving look, the reckless, beautiful man.
"You’re a complete and utter arse, Sirius Black," Remus said, a tear finally sliding down his cheek.
"I know," Sirius whispered.
"And you’re incredibly distracting.”
"I know.”
"And I..." Remus cupped Sirius’s face, his heart beating a frantic rhythm. "I have been in love with you for so long, I don't even know who I am without you.”
Sirius didn't hesitate. He straddled Remus’ lap, and after a brief smile at him, he leaned into a kiss, a desperate, hungry, passionate kiss that tasted of chocolate, butterbeer and forever.
Remus didn't bother looking for his book later. The art of distraction had finally paid off.
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