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Chapter Text

Remus sits in his room, completely absorbed in his books, without a worry in his mind. He’s quietly focused, studying for the potions exam he has the next day.

Suddenly, Sirius bursts in, breaking the peaceful silence.

“Oi! Moony!”

Remus startles, looking up. “Yes? What do you need?”

Sirius, grinning from ear to ear, flops onto the bed next to Remus, clearly up to something.

“You need to come outside, now!” Sirius says, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Remus sighs, closing his book but leaving his finger between the pages to hold his place. “Sirius, I have a potions exam tomorrow. I really don’t have time for—”

“Exactly why you need a break!” Sirius interrupts, standing back up and practically bouncing on his heels. “Besides, I’ve got something you really need to see.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, both suspicious and intrigued. “What did you do this time?”

Sirius pulls him up from the chair. “You’ll see! But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

With an exasperated groan, Remus relents, letting himself be dragged out of the room. “If this has anything to do with Dungbombs, I swear…”

Sirius leads Remus through the winding corridors of the castle, moving with such speed and enthusiasm that Remus struggles to keep up. The chilly evening air brushes against them as they descend the steps, finally reaching the courtyard. Remus glances around, trying to figure out what Sirius is so excited about.

“Alright,” Remus says, panting slightly. “What’s all this about?”

Sirius slows down as they near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He stops, turning to face Remus with that same mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Just wait for it,” Sirius says with a grin.

Sirius points toward the sky, his excitement palpable. “Up there! That’s my constellation. And over there—that’s Regulus’s. We were both named after stars.”

“Wow. I did not know that,” Remus says honestly.

“Oh! That’s Orion’s belt! It’s by far my favourite.”

“I’ve never known anything about stars.”

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Sirius asks, turning to Remus.

“They really are,” Remus replies without a second thought.

“It’s stunning,” Remus murmurs, stealing a glance at Sirius, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

“The stars—so beautiful, yet distant and untouchable. Their light, a quiet grace, shines from afar. Lovely, but forever out of reach.”

It’s cold. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus notices Sirius shivering. Sirius inhales as if he’s about to speak, but hesitates, the words dying before they form. He looks nervous, almost scared of what he’s about to say. Remus stays quiet, letting him take his time—whatever’s on his mind, it’s clear he’s not ready to share it just yet.

Remus stands there, mesmerised, his gaze locked on the stars as though expecting them to whisper their secrets to him. They shimmer above, distant and mysterious, drawing him in with their quiet beauty. God, it’s beautiful… but his thoughts drift elsewhere. He's beautiful.

Without realising it, Remus begins to lean into Sirius’s shoulder, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence. The stars may be far away, but the person beside him feels close, grounding him in a way the sky never could.

Remus clenches his jaw, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering as he rubs his bare arms, hoping to smooth away the goosebumps.
Sirius chuckles. “Remus, are you freezing?”

“No,” Remus replies, though his voice shakes slightly.

“Honestly, you’re impossible. Come here.”

“It’s fine, Sirius. This matters to you, yeah?”

Remus feels Sirius shrug beside him. “Yeah, I guess. But so do you, you know. Can’t let you freeze out here. Dying of cold would be a pretty sad way to go—almost as bad as drowning.”

“I guess it is pretty cold out here,” Sirius admits, his voice wavering slightly as he finally acknowledges the chill.

“Come on, let’s head back. Feels like it might start raining any minute,” Remus replies, reaching over and taking Sirius’s hand to pull him along.

Sirius sighs dramatically, dragging out his response as if he’s reluctant. “Fiiine,” he drawls, pretending to be annoyed, though he shivers a bit, clearly grateful for the warmth.

Remus slips an arm around Sirius’s shoulder, pulling him close to keep him warm. Sirius doesn’t say anything, but Remus catches the soft smile beginning to spread across his face. They walk on in comfortable silence, footsteps echoing through the quiet halls.

When they finally reach their shared Gryffindor dorm, Remus feels a twinge of reluctance—he doesn’t want the moment to end. It’s been too long since he’s had this kind of time with Sirius. He misses it all: Sirius’s easy presence, the late-night talks in the empty dorm, their quiet walks around the castle after hours. He just misses Sirius. There’s really no other way to put it.

They step into the empty dorm, enveloped by a peaceful silence. The kind where you can hear the faint hum of the lights and the soft chirping of crickets outside the window. It feels warm, safe even.

Sirius glances at Remus, who looks seconds away from curling up and falling asleep right on the floor. He smiles, nudging him gently. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You look like you’re about to drop.”

Remus blinks, a little dazed, and chuckles softly. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

Sirius takes him by the arm, guiding him to his bed. Remus sits heavily, stifling a yawn, but before he can even start to lie back, Sirius grabs a spare blanket, draping it around his shoulders. He sits down beside him, leaning close, and there’s a familiar, unspoken warmth in the air between them.

“Thanks,” Remus murmurs, eyes drifting shut as he relaxes, feeling Sirius’s hand resting gently on his shoulder. “Feels good to just… be here.”
Sirius chuckles quietly. “I’m not going anywhere, Moony. Just rest.”

Remus smiles, his breathing already slowing, and soon enough, he’s fast asleep. Sirius watches him for a moment, a soft smile on his face, then lies down next to him. Before long, they’re both dozing off, sharing the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Chapter Text

Remus wakes to the sound of James squawking, “What the hell is going on here?”

He practically jumps out of bed, scrambling to reply. “I—I don’t know? I just sort of fell asleep, and I don’t really remember how.” Remus frowns, trying to piece together last night, but all he recalls is watching the stars near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Well, you’d better get your robes on. Breakfast is about to start. And don’t forget to wake up your sleeping beauty,” James says, nodding toward Sirius, who’s still lying there, blissfully unaware of the commotion.

Remus glances at Sirius, who looks so peaceful that he almost doesn’t want to disturb him. But with a sigh, he leans over, nudging him. “Come on, Sirius. It’s morning, and we’re late for breakfast.”

Sirius stirs, blinking groggily. When he realises where he is—and that Remus is right there—he breaks into a sleepy grin. “Morning, Moony. Having fun ruining my beauty sleep?”

Giggling, Remus pulls the covers back and tugs on Sirius’s arm, coaxing him out of bed with a playful pull. Sirius lets out a groan, dragging his feet as he finally gives in and swings his legs over the edge, reluctantly standing. He grumbles under his breath, trudging over to the dresser with the dramatic exhaustion of someone facing a much bigger task.

As he sifts through his clothes, Remus crosses his arms, amused. “You’re acting like you’re about to go to war.”

“It feels like it,” Sirius mutters, stifling a yawn. He grabs a shirt and pulls it over his head, giving Remus a halfhearted glare. "Do you know what time it is?"
“Early enough to avoid breakfast without James interrogating us,” Remus teases. Sirius rolls his eyes, though a faint smile breaks through.

Fully dressed at last, Sirius stretches and then gives Remus a nudge toward the door. “You owe me coffee for this,” he says, his voice barely concealing a grin as they head out.

Sirius looks like he might collapse onto the floor and sleep right there. He appears utterly exhausted.

“Sirius, mate, you look dead,” Remus says, unable to hide his concern.

Without missing a beat, Sirius replies, “What is already dead can never die.”

Remus snickers, struggling not to burst into full laughter.

They finally make it to the dining hall, where they spot James animatedly chatting with Barty from Ravenclaw. Every so often, James sneakily launches a pea at unsuspecting students, then whips his head around to stare at the ceiling with exaggerated innocence, whistling off-key like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do at breakfast. It’s subtle—if you consider “subtle” to mean pointing directly at Barty when anyone glares his way.

“Real smooth, Prongs,” Remus mutters, watching as James accidentally hits McGonagall’s tea cup, causing her to give him the Look of Doom.
“You shush, Moony. Like you didn’t do this when you were a first year,” James retorts, his voice dripping with sass.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “I may have… but at least I was smooth about it. You’ve got to throw it behind you, so it doesn’t look like it’s from you.” He grabs a pea, flings it behind him, and it lands directly on the Slytherin table.

“Real smooth, Remus,” comes a familiar, scornful voice from behind him. Snape is standing there, unimpressed, with a stray pea stuck to his robes.

James, Sirius, and Barty explode into laughter. Sirius looks like he’s about to lay an egg; James and Barty are practically gasping for air, caught somewhere between laugh-crying and actually passing out. Remus can’t help but smirk, feeling he’s played the best prank of the morning—even if it backfired a little.

Once they have stopped laughing, it's the end of breakfast.they grab their wands and walk out of the dining hall after having nothing to eat.

After school, Sirius, Remus, James, and Peter sit together in the common room with Mary and Lily, chatting about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. Mary seems a little tense as she turns to Lily.

“Hey, Lily?” Mary asks, her voice tinged with worry.

“Yeah?” Lily responds, looking over at her.

“Do you… want to go to Hogsmeade with me?” Mary asks, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Oh my god, yes! We need a girls’ day!” Lily says, beaming with excitement.

“Oh, uh… yeah. Girls’ day,” Mary replies, her tone softening, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Remus and Sirius share a glance, clearly in a silent exchange.

“I have never been this excited for Hogsmeade,” James announces dramatically, “I need more chocolate frogs. Someone ate my entire stash.” He shoots Peter a look, but Peter’s busy pretending to admire every detail of the room like he’s a first-year seeing it for the first time.

Everyone chuckles, and Remus adds, “I just need to get out of the castle for a bit. I’m buried in schoolwork and exams, and I’m praying I pass potions—especially since someone keeps distracting me.” He gives Sirius a mock-glare, earning another round of laughter.

"Schoolwork is no joke. I’ve been studying nonstop for a week—I’m losing it," Mary groans, hugging her knees and resting her chin on top of them.

“She really is!” Lily chimes. “She thought it was November… it’s September!” Mary gives her a playful shove, nearly sending Lily toppling over.

“I really need to study more," James sighs, sounding defeated. "My Charms results came back… I got a C."

"Don't worry, Prongs. You'll be fine. It's just Charms. Besides, there are more important things to focus on," Peter says, trying to lift his spirits.

"If I don't pass my Transfiguration exam, McGonagall is going to have my head," Lily chimes in.

Yawning, Remus stretches and says, "I should get to bed; I’m exhausted after all those tests."

As if on cue, everyone in the room calls out their goodnights, and Remus makes his way upstairs to their dorm, ready to collapse into bed and dream of anything but schoolwork.

Lying in bed, Remus thinks about Mary and Lily. He feels a bit sorry for Mary; she’s been so quiet lately. Normally, Lily is observant, but tonight she seems too caught up in her own excitement to notice that something’s bothering her friend. Remus decides he’ll talk to Mary tomorrow to see if she wants to share what’s on her mind. After all, friendship means being there for each other when things get tough. With a sigh, he sinks deeper into his pillow, hoping that in the morning, things will feel a little better for both of them.

Chapter Text

“Finally Hogsmeade!” Sirius says, excitedly from behind Remus, startling him. Remus, Sirius, James, regulus, lily and Mary are standing in a circle waiting for professor Mcgonagall to escort them to Hogsmeade.

“Alright students!” McGonagall calls out, causing Regulus and Sirius to jump. Together, they make their way down. Remus can't help but be excited.

As usual, Remus was doing his best to rein in Sirius, who seemed to have an endless reserve of energy that evening. Despite Remus’s efforts, Sirius was practically buzzing with excitement, his energy radiating like a live wire, making it impossible for Remus to keep him in check.

Behind the boisterous pair, Mary trailed along at a leisurely pace, her steps unhurried as she chatted quietly with Lily. The tension between them had eased significantly since the awkward incident in the common room.

By the time they finally reached Hogsmeade, the group was buzzing with excitement. The crisp air carried the sweet scent of Honeydukes and fresh bread from the bakery, while the cheerful chatter of students filled the cobblestone streets. It was the kind of day that felt full of possibilities, the small village practically glowing under the autumn sunlight.

As they stood at the crossroads of Hogsmeade, James, Peter, and Regulus had already bolted ahead, their hurried steps echoing on the stones. James tossed a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as Peter struggled to keep up, clutching a list of “must-try” sweets. Regulus, looking like he wanted to maintain an air of cool detachment, had no choice but to follow, though there was a faint grin tugging at his lips.

Lily and Mary lingered a moment longer, debating where to go first. “We’re heading to Scrivenshaft’s,” Lily announced, looping her arm through Mary’s. “Mary’s got to replace her quill after she stabbed it through her essay last week.”

“It was a moment of passion!” Mary defended, though her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

With that, they strolled off, leaving Sirius and Remus standing in the middle of the street. Sirius stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced at Remus with a crooked grin. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Moony. Come on—I need Fizzing Whizzbees. The stash is running dangerously low.”

They made their way to Honeydukes, navigating the growing crowd of students eager to stock up on sweets. The shop was packed, the shelves stacked high with colourful jars of treats, and the air was heavy with the smell of sugar and excitement. Remus followed Sirius as he expertly wove through the chaos, but it wasn’t long before the crowd became overwhelming.

Remus noticed Sirius stiffening, his movements more hurried as his eyes darted around the room. He looked fidgety, his fingers tugging at the hem of his jacket, and a faint line creased his forehead.

Without thinking, Remus reached out and grabbed Sirius’s hand, his touch firm but gentle. Sirius froze for a second, then glanced at Remus, his gray eyes wide. Remus gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Breathe, Padfoot. It’s just a crowd. You’re fine.”

Sirius exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he squeezed Remus’s hand. “Thanks, Moony,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the noise. He didn’t pull his hand away, though, letting Remus guide him through the throng of students.

Once they’d managed to grab a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees and escape the shop, Sirius leaned against the wall outside, his free hand rubbing at his temples. “Merlin’s beard, that place gets worse every time.”

“I told you to stock up last trip,” Remus said, his tone teasing but soft. He still hadn’t let go of Sirius’s hand, and Sirius didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, if someone hadn’t eaten half my stash—” Sirius began, but he was cut off by Remus’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, maybe it was me,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.
Remus chuckled and tugged on his hand. “Come on, let’s walk it off. Where to next?”

Sirius straightened up, his grin returning. “Zonko’s, obviously. I’ve got some pranks in mind, and James is going to owe me big for these ideas.”

As they walked off, their pace slower and more relaxed now, Sirius glanced at their still-joined hands. He didn’t say anything, but the warmth of Remus’s touch grounded him in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever admit aloud.

Meanwhile, in another part of the village, James was gleefully dragging Regulus into a disastrous attempt at trying on joke glasses, and Lily was pretending not to notice Mary stealing glances at her reflection in the shop windows.

Later that afternoon, the seven of them crammed into a corner booth at the Three Broomsticks, mugs of butterbeer clinking together as they talked over one another. The pub was lively, filled with the warmth of laughter and the low hum of conversations from other Hogwarts students scattered about.

James and Peter were in the middle of a heated exchange. James was dramatically recounting the tale of his stolen chocolate frog stash, gesturing wildly while Peter fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. “I swear, I don’t know where they went!” Peter stammered, his eyes darting around the room like he was searching for an escape route.

“Oh, sure,” James said, raising an eyebrow. “They just vanished into thin air, did they? Or maybe into someone’s mouth, Wormtail?” James leaned forward, staring Peter down with mock seriousness, making Sirius snort into his butterbeer.

On the other side of the table, Lily and Mary were huddled together, giggling over some new crush Lily had apparently developed. “I mean, his hair is so... windswept!” Lily whispered, her cheeks pink.

“Windswept?” Mary repeated, laughing so hard she almost spilled her drink. “That’s your bar now? Slightly untidy hair?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Mary. It’s romantic,” Lily said, flicking a sugar packet at her in mock indignation.

Meanwhile, Sirius and Regulus sat side by side, quietly sipping their butterbeer. They exchanged occasional glances, a comfortable silence between them. For once, Sirius wasn’t cracking jokes or drawing attention to himself. Regulus, usually more reserved, looked relaxed.

“It’s been a successful day, I reckon,” James announced suddenly, cutting through the chaos at the table.

“Why’s that, Prongs?” Sirius asked, practically slamming his butterbeer down with a dramatic flair.

“I got my chocolate frogs back,” James said triumphantly, staring pointedly at Peter, who immediately began looking around the room like the walls had suddenly become very interesting.

“You’re unbelievable,” Remus said, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same.

“Don’t look so smug, Moony,” Sirius chimed in. “We all know you’re secretly plotting to raid Honeydukes for more chocolate.”

Remus raised his butterbeer in mock salute. “Guilty as charged.”

The table burst into laughter, and even Peter cracked a sheepish grin. The pub seemed to glow around them, the golden light of the lanterns reflecting off their mugs and the sound of their joy cutting through the din of the crowd.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow through the windows, they leaned into the comfort of each other’s company. Arguments over chocolate, crushes, and stolen sweets melted into shared smiles and teasing jabs.

By the time they drained their mugs and reluctantly stood to leave, the group felt lighter—closer, even.

Chapter Text

The four of them sat at their usual spot in the Great Hall, the long dining tables buzzing with chatter and the clatter of cutlery. As per tradition, James and Sirius were up to no good, flinging peas across the hall like tiny green missiles. James’s aim was particularly on point today, and a pea sailed cleanly across the room to smack Snape square on the head at the Slytherin table.

Snape turned with a menacing growl, his face contorted in fury as he scanned the hall for the culprits. James and Sirius, of course, were already deep in mock-conversation, exaggeratedly acting as though they were discussing the finer points of wizarding literature. Remus, seated across from them, watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, shaking his head but doing nothing to stop them.

“Well, that’s one way to brighten up a meal,” Sirius said, smirking.

“Brighten? You mean ruin Snivellus’s day,” James added, grinning like he’d just won a trophy.

As the bell rang for the next class, the boys stood to leave. James groaned dramatically as he remembered his fate. “Merlin’s beard, I’ve got Potions with Snape next. Say a prayer for me.”

“Good luck, mate,” Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder with mock sympathy. “You’ll need it.”

“Don’t get hexed,” Remus added, his tone half-joking, half-serious. With a wave, James and Peter headed off in one direction, while Sirius and Remus set off toward the Charms classroom.

Charms was Sirius’s favourite class, not because he had a particular talent for the subject, but because it meant sitting next to Remus. They always partnered up, and it had become a routine they both silently appreciated.

As they slid into their usual seats, Professor Flitwick was already organizing his stack of parchment at the front of the room. Sirius leaned back in his chair, twirling his quill between his fingers, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You know, Moony,” he began in a low voice, “if James doesn’t make it out of Potions alive, I say we raid the Slytherin common room in his honor.”

Remus smirked as he opened his textbook. “Because that’s what he’d want, is it?”

“Absolutely. A full-scale chocolate frog heist. His last wish,” Sirius said with a solemn nod.

The lesson began, but Sirius had no intention of focusing. As Flitwick demonstrated a complex wand movement, Sirius quietly tore a corner off his parchment and scribbled a quick note: Fancy a raid on Honeydukes this weekend?

He slid the note over to Remus, who glanced at it, raised an eyebrow, and scribbled back: We’ll get caught. Again.

Sirius grinned as he read it, then replied: Worth it.

This silent exchange continued throughout the class. They passed notes back and forth under the desk, the content ranging from jokes about Flitwick’s tiny stature to Sirius sketching what he swore was Snape’s “real face.” It was a poor drawing of a troll with greasy hair, and Remus had to stifle a laugh when he saw it.

By the end of the class, Sirius had completely abandoned his notes in favor of doodling a miniature Marauder’s Map, labeling himself and Remus as “the geniuses” while James and Peter were marked as “the troublemakers.” Remus shook his head, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

When the bell rang, Sirius turned to Remus as they packed up their things. “So, Moony, what’s the verdict on Honeydukes? Yes or yes?”

Remus sighed. “Fine, but if we get detention, you’re taking the blame.”

“Deal,” Sirius said, slinging an arm around Remus’s shoulder as they exited the classroom. Breaking rules or the jokes they shared. It was something more—a sense of closeness he rarely felt with anyone else.

As they walked back toward the common room, Sirius caught himself smiling. It wasn’t just the thrill of anyone else. And, for now, that was more than enough.

James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Mary and Lily lounged in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackling warmly as they sat scattered across the mismatched chairs and sofas. Mary seemed to be practically vibrating with energy, her excitement lighting up her face.

“Wait, you all know about Emily—the Hufflepuff in our year—right?” she blurted out, leaning forward eagerly.

The others exchanged blank looks, their confusion spreading like a silent wave. Mary’s face fell dramatically, her excitement dimming into a look of sheer disappointment.

“James, she’s in your Charms class,” she pressed, turning her hopeful gaze to him. “Surely you must know her.”

James furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “Oh! That Emily!” he exclaimed after a moment of silence, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, what about her?”

Mary’s grin returned in full force. “So, apparently, she had a boyfriend in sixth year, and they broke up last week,” she began, lowering her voice like she was about to reveal the juiciest piece of gossip imaginable.

James raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And?”

“Well,” Mary continued, now mock-biting her nails for dramatic effect, “the next morning at breakfast, she begged him to take her back—right there in the Great Hall!”

Lily, who had been half-listening while flipping through a book, turned sharply to Mary. Her expression was a mix of concern and disbelief. “Wait, what? Is she okay? That doesn’t sound like her,” she said, her voice tinged with genuine worry.

Mary’s grin widened mischievously. “Oh, it gets better,” she said, glancing around the group to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “When he said no, she started sending him letter after letter. Like, obsessively. ”

Sirius, who had been slouched back in an armchair with his legs draped over one armrest, let out a low whistle. “Merlin's beard,” he muttered, his gray eyes glinting with amusement. “Talk about not taking a hint.”

“Sounds... intense,” Remus said, frowning slightly as he leaned forward to grab a chocolate frog from the table. “I hope she’s alright, though. That doesn’t sound like healthy behavior.”

Mary waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, she’s fine. Honestly, she seems to have moved on already. But can you imagine? The poor bloke must have been terrified every time an owl showed up with another one of her letters.”

James let out a bark of laughter. “Bet he was checking his food for love potions after that.”

“Oh, James, that’s horrible!” Lily scolded, though the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter.

“Am I wrong, though?” James said, throwing his hands up in mock defense.

“Still, that’s sad,” Lily said, shaking her head. “Breakups are hard enough without adding public humiliation to the mix.”

“Public humiliation makes everything better,” Sirius chimed in with a wicked grin. “Adds a bit of flair to an otherwise boring situation.”

“You’re awful,” Lily shot back, though her tone was more exasperated than angry.

“It’s why you love me,” Sirius quipped, earning an eye roll from both Lily and Mary.

As the group’s laughter faded, Remus glanced at Sirius, who was now dramatically reenacting Emily’s supposed begging with over-the-top gestures and a high-pitched voice. He couldn’t help but chuckle, despite himself.

“Well, I hope she’s okay now,” Remus said quietly, always the voice of reason in the chaos.

“She’s fine,” Mary assured him with a shrug. “Apparently, she’s already chatting up someone from Ravenclaw.”

“Good for her,” Sirius said, flopping back into his chair. “Now, anyone fancy another round of chocolate frogs?”

“Only if you’re sharing,” James said, grinning as he reached for the stash.

Chapter Text

The weekend arrived before Remus even had time to second-guess the plan. After some thought, he suggested they invite James, Regulus, Lily, and Mary to join the adventure. He figured the more, the merrier—and with this group, it was bound to be unforgettable.

James, always ready for a bit of mischief, claimed he knew a route to Hogsmeade that would keep them completely out of sight from the castle. “Even if someone’s staring out of the astronomy tower with a telescope, they won’t see us,” he promised with a smirk.

At dawn on Saturday, the six of them snuck out, the early morning air crisp and cool as they followed James’s secret path. Laughter bubbled up here and there as they stumbled over uneven ground, but soon enough, the familiar cobbled streets of Hogsmeade came into view.

Once there, Sirius clapped his hands dramatically. “Alright, teams of two! Everyone buddy up and meet back here when you’re loaded with sweets.”

Mary didn’t wait for anyone’s input. “Lily, come on!” she called, grabbing her friend’s hand without hesitation. Their fingers laced tightly together, and they were off in a blur of movement, their laughter trailing behind them as they disappeared down the street.

James and Regulus lingered just long enough to wave before heading off in the opposite direction. James was animatedly talking, his hands gesturing wildly as Regulus rolled his eyes but followed with a faint smirk.

That left Sirius and Remus standing together. Sirius turned to him with a grin. “Looks like it’s just us, Moony.”

“As usual,” Remus said, his voice soft but warm.

They started walking toward Honeydukes at an unhurried pace, the quiet hum of the village wrapping around them. Without a word, Remus slipped his hand into Sirius’s. Sirius glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at Remus, his grin turning softer.

“You’re getting bolder,” Sirius teased lightly, giving Remus’s hand a small squeeze.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Or you’re just rubbing off on me.”

When they reached Honeydukes, the shop was already bustling. The smell of sugar and chocolate filled the air, and Sirius immediately pulled Remus toward a shelf stacked high with Chocolate Frogs.

“Alright,” Sirius declared, scanning the sweets like he was making a life-altering decision. “We’re getting at least five of these, maybe six. You’ll eat half, won’t you?”

“Two, at most,” Remus replied, amused. “And I’m buying them this time.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What happened to splitting everything?”

“I’m buying them,” Remus repeated firmly. “You can fight me about it later.”

They browsed the shop together, picking out a few more treats—a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, some Fizzing Whizzbees, and a bar of Honeydukes’ finest milk chocolate.

As they stood at the counter paying, a voice interrupted them.

“So this is where you two wandered off to.”

They turned to find James and Regulus standing at the door, James grinning as if he’d just caught them doing something scandalous. Regulus, meanwhile, looked unimpressed but had a bag of his own, likely filled with sweets.

“Finished already?” Sirius asked, slipping his bag of treats over his shoulder.

“Lily and Mary dragged us here,” James replied. “They’re somewhere in the back arguing over sugar quills.”

Sure enough, a moment later, Lily and Mary appeared, both laughing as Lily waved a pack of quills in triumph.

“Alright, now what?” Sirius asked, looking around at the group.

“Well,” Lily said, tucking her sweets into her bag, “we could head to the Shrieking Shack for a bit before going back. Unless anyone has a better idea?”

“Yes, go back to the castle. It's freezing out here,” James said, his voice trembling slightly as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

Without a moment’s thought, Regulus slipped off his jumper and draped it over James’s shoulders. The unexpected gesture made James freeze—not from the cold this time, but from surprise. His cheeks flushed pink as he mumbled a barely audible, “Thanks.”

Regulus didn’t meet his gaze, his lips curving into a faint, almost shy smile as he looked off into the distance. “It’s nothing. You looked colder than me,” he said quietly, his tone steady but soft.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, broken only by the crunch of frost beneath their feet.

“Uh, alrighty then,” Mary piped up, breaking the awkward moment. She hugged herself tightly and shivered. “Should we head back? I’m freezing too, and I really don’t need another detention.”

The group murmured in agreement, turning back toward the castle. The path was quieter now, their earlier chatter subdued as the cold nipped at their fingers and noses.

As they walked, Sirius fell into step beside Remus, nudging him with his elbow. “You alright there, Moony? You’ve been quiet all day.”

Remus glanced at him, his breath visible in the frigid air. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Sirius asked, his tone light but his eyes searching.

Remus hesitated before answering. “About Regulus. He’s… different with James. Don’t you think?”

Sirius shrugged, though his gaze flicked toward his brother. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just overthinking things again.” He grinned, trying to steer the conversation back to something less serious. “Not everyone can have my winning charm, after all.”

Remus snorted, rolling his eyes but smiling. “Sure, Padfoot. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Ahead of them, Mary and Lily walked together, their heads bent close as they talked in hushed voices. Mary still looked a bit tense, but Lily’s laughter rang out, a sound warm enough to fight the cold.

As the castle came into view, James pulled the jumper tighter around himself, glancing at Regulus from the corner of his eye. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I wanted to,” Regulus replied simply, his voice steady as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

James opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Sirius shouted from behind, “Hurry up, you two! If Filch catches us out here, we’re all doomed!”

The group paused for a moment just inside the hidden passage, letting the warmth of the castle chase away the lingering chill from their late-night excursion. The distant hum of the enchanted torches flickering along the walls filled the silence as they caught their breath.

“We made it,” Sirius said, grinning as he ruffled his wind-tousled hair. “And without a single run-in with Filch. I think that deserves some kind of medal.”

Lily rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Or maybe just some common sense next time? No more early morning adventures in the middle of winter.”

Mary nodded emphatically, still rubbing her hands together. “Seconded. I can’t feel my toes.”

“Alright, alright,” James said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No more freezing escapades. I promise.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “You’ll forget that promise the second you’re bored tomorrow.”

“Probably,” James admitted with a lopsided grin, drawing a quiet laugh from the group.

They exchanged soft byes before parting ways, their footsteps echoing down the stone corridors.

As Remus trudged toward the Gryffindor common room, Sirius fell into step beside him. “Worth it?” Sirius asked, a playful glint in his eye.

Remus glanced over, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. Worth it.”

Behind them, James lingered in the hallway for a moment, his fingers brushing against the fabric of the jumper still draped over his shoulders. The faint scent of Regulus’s cologne clung to it, subtle but undeniable. With a quiet sigh, he folded it neatly over his arm and made his way up the stairs.

And somewhere deep in the dungeons, Regulus lay on his bed, his thoughts stubbornly refusing to settle. The warmth of the castle might have chased away the cold, but it hadn’t dulled the feeling that today had changed something—something he wasn’t ready to name just yet.

Chapter Text

James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus sat scattered around their dormitory, the usual chaos of their shared space feeling particularly heavy with the looming threat of their upcoming Potions test. Books, scraps of parchment, and a few stray socks lay strewn across the floor, but none of them seemed to notice or care.

“If I don’t pass Potions, I’m going to die,” James groaned, flopping onto his bed with all the dramatics of a staged duel. He threw an arm over his face for added effect, as though shielding himself from the unbearable weight of academic failure.

Peter glanced up from the book he was lazily flipping through, his tone casual. “Don’t worry, mate. You’ll be fine.”

James sat up just enough to glare at him. “Says you! You actually take notes. I’ve been winging it all semester.”

Sirius snorted, pacing by the window like a caged animal. “You think you’ve got it bad? I don’t even know what we’re learning! Slughorn might as well be speaking Gobbledegook. We’re doomed. DOOMED!” His voice rose dramatically, practically shaking the walls.

“Calm down, Padfoot,” Remus said from his spot on the floor, where he sat cross-legged with a stack of flashcards spread out in front of him. “You’re not doomed. You’re just—”

“—completely unprepared?” Sirius interrupted, throwing his hands in the air.

“Distracted,” Remus corrected with a smirk. “If you spent half as much time on Potions as you do figuring out ways to charm the socks off half the school, you’d be top of the class.”

Sirius flopped into a chair, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“Well, it’s not,” Remus admitted. “But it’s doable. Here—” He held out a flashcard. “Tell me what’s in a Draught of Living Death.”

Sirius stared at the card as if it were written in Parseltongue. “Uh… wormwood? Maybe?”

“Good start,” Remus said encouragingly. “Now add asphodel, valerian root, and—”

“—and a pinch of Sirius Black’s despair,” James chimed in, sitting up with a mischievous grin.

Peter laughed, setting his book aside. “Don’t worry, Sirius. If all else fails, just charm Slughorn with one of your stories. He loves a good tale.”

Sirius brightened slightly at that. “You’re right. I am quite charming.”

“Unbelievably so,” James said, rolling his eyes.

As the laughter died down, the door to their dorm creaked open, and Lily Evans stepped inside, looking unamused. “What’s all the yelling about? I could hear you lot from the common room.”

“Lily! Just the person I needed. How’s your Potions revision going?” James exclaimed from his bed

“Better than yours, I’m sure,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “You do realise the test is in two days, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” James said with a groan. “Are you here to save us, oh brilliant one?”

“I’m here to borrow a quill, but I suppose I could help you after I finish my own studying.”

Sirius nudged Remus with a grin. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a tutor.”

Lily shot him a look. “You’re not off the hook either, Black. If I’m helping James, I’m helping all of you. Now, where’s that quill?”

Peter handed her one, and she turned to leave, but not before tossing a pointed glance over her shoulder. “Be ready to actually work when I get back. No excuses.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Sirius groaned. “Great. Now we really are doomed. Lily’s going to run us into the ground.”

“Better than failing Potions,” Remus said with a shrug. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”

“Doubtful,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t suppress a small grin as he reached for one of the flashcards. 

“I’m just glad it’s in two days,” Peter said, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, his quill nearly tearing through the paper. “Less time to stress about it!”

“Same here,” James chimed in, sitting up from where he’d been sprawled out on his bed like a defeated knight. His hair stuck out in every direction, but he seemed utterly unconcerned.

Lily, leaning casually on the doorframe, let out a soft chuckle. “You lot are ridiculous. If you’d start studying the day you heard about the test, you wouldn’t have to stress because you’d actually understand the material.”

“Studying?” Sirius gasped, throwing himself dramatically onto the armchair like a swooning actor in a Shakespearean play. “But we have better things to do!”

“Like what?” Lily asked, crossing her arms and raising a brow.

“Like… existing in this oppressive academic environment,” Sirius replied, gesturing vaguely to the room around him.

“Or,” Lily said, fixing him with a pointed glare that seemed to pierce straight through him, “you could just pay attention in class and not pass notes every five seconds.”

Sirius froze under her gaze, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. He raised his hands as though surrendering to an invisible authority. “Alright, alright! You got me there. Guilty as charged.”

“Guilty and sentenced to actually learn something,” Lily shot back with a smirk.

James snickered, watching the exchange with obvious amusement. “Don’t feel bad, Padfoot. At least you’re consistent.”

Sirius shot him a mock glare. “I’m consistent at being incredible. Thank you very much.”

“Consistently distracting,” Remus muttered from his spot on the floor, earning a laugh from Peter.

Lily pushed off the doorframe and straightened up. “Well, as much as I enjoy your collective floundering, I’ve got actual work to do. Good luck—you’ll need it.”

She turned to leave, but James called after her, “You’ll come back to help us, though, right? Don’t leave us to fend for ourselves!”

Lily paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. “We’ll see. If you survive until tomorrow without setting something on fire, maybe.”

As she disappeared down the hall, Sirius let out a low whistle. “Evans doesn’t hold back, does she?”

“She’s not wrong,” Remus said, flipping through one of his textbooks. “We could all use a bit of help. You especially, Sirius.”

Sirius flopped back in the chair with a groan. “I don’t need help. I need a miracle.”

Peter chuckled, tossing his parchment aside. “Well, miracles aren’t coming. So let’s just get through this and prove Lily wrong.”

“Good luck with that,” James muttered, though he reached for his own notes, determination flickering in his hazel eyes.

The group settled back into their spots, a symphony of quills scratching against parchment and quiet sighs of frustration filling the dorm. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the scattered textbooks and forgotten socks. Outside, the castle lay cloaked in a serene stillness, the kind that only came with late hours when the world seemed to hold its breath.

Somewhere down the hall, Lily was likely deep into her revision, methodical and unshakable. But here, in the Marauders’ dormitory, chaos reigned as they wrestled with formulas, ingredients, and half-remembered lessons. It wasn’t pretty, but it was theirs—a stubborn, messy battle for readiness that could only end one way: together.

As the night stretched on, exhaustion began to settle in, but none of them suggested stopping. There was an unspoken camaraderie in their shared struggle, the kind that didn’t need words. Tomorrow might bring a test they weren’t prepared for, but for now, they had each other—and that was enough.

Chapter Text

The day of the exam dawned with an air of impending doom hanging over the castle. The chatter in the Great Hall during breakfast was subdued, with even the most confident students looking pale and anxious. For James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, the weight of Potions loomed like a dark cloud.

"I can't believe Slughorn expects us to remember all those antidotes," James muttered as they trudged toward the exam room.

"Honestly, I’ve already accepted my fate,” Peter mumbled, clutching his books to his chest like a shield.

“I’d rather face a pack of wild grindylows than this,” Sirius declared, but his dramatic flair didn’t mask his nerves.

Remus just rolled his eyes. "It’s not that bad."

They stepped into the exam room, their footsteps echoing in the too-quiet space. The desks were arranged in neat rows, each with a crisp sheet of parchment and an inkpot waiting ominously. Slughorn stood at the front, his cheerful demeanor doing nothing to soothe their nerves.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before settling into their usual seats next to each other near the back.

“You ready for this?” Sirius whispered as they took out their quills.

“Not even a little,” Remus replied with a tight smile.

The exam began with a flick of Slughorn’s wand, and the room filled with the scratch of quills on parchment. The questions were predictably awful—long, detailed, and full of opportunities for disaster. Sirius scowled at his paper, twirling his quill between his fingers, while Remus seemed focused, his brow furrowed in concentration.

About halfway through, Remus leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward Sirius. Without a word, he peeled off a small corner of his parchment, scribbled something on it, and slid it toward Sirius under the desk.

Sirius glanced at the tiny scrap and unfolded it carefully.

"The answer is D."

His lips twitched into a smirk. Keeping his head down, he quickly scrawled a reply:

"Is that really the answer, or are you just messing with me?"

Sliding the parchment back, Sirius circled D on his test anyway. When the scrap returned, he opened it with a casual air, expecting another teasing response. Instead, his breath caught.

There, next to a hastily scribbled "Yes, trust me," was a small heart.

For a moment, Sirius froze. The room around him—the scratch of quills, the mutter of Slughorn reminding students to check their work—faded into the background. All he could see was that tiny heart. His cheeks flushed, and his heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the parchment like it might sprout legs and sprint off his desk.

What did it mean? Was Remus joking? Testing him? Or—he dared not even think it—was it serious?

He glanced sideways at Remus, who was scribbling away on his exam as if nothing had happened. If he noticed Sirius’s sudden stillness, he didn’t show it.

Sirius folded the parchment neatly and slipped it into his pocket, determined to figure it out later. For now, he had to focus on not failing Potions—though that felt impossible with his thoughts racing.

By the time the exam ended, Sirius had barely written coherent answers for the last few questions. As they handed in their parchments, he lagged behind, waiting for Remus to finish packing up. 

Finally, after Sirius had scribbled down what he hoped were passable answers on his exam parchment, he stood and stretched with exaggerated flair. Remus waited for him by the door, arms crossed but a patient smile on his face.

As they strolled down the castle corridors, heading toward the greenhouses for Herbology, the tension from the exam began to ebb away.

“So, Padfoot,” Remus began, his tone light, though there was a teasing edge to his words. “Do you think this is the moment you finally start paying attention in class?”

Sirius scoffed, his grin mischievous. “I could turn over a new leaf, I suppose…”

Remus raised an eyebrow, sensing the “but” coming a mile away.

“…but I won’t,” Sirius finished confidently, tossing his hair back with a flourish.

Remus chuckled and shook his head. “Of course not. That would be too much to ask.”

As they stepped outside, the crisp autumn air greeted them, carrying the faint scent of damp earth. The greenhouses loomed ahead, their glass panels gleaming in the pale sunlight.

When they reached the Herbology room, they found James and Peter already inside, seated at a table near the back. James waved them over enthusiastically, while Peter seemed preoccupied with inspecting something unpleasantly slimy on the table.

“You’re late,” James said with mock sternness as Sirius and Remus sat down.

“Blame Moony,” Sirius retorted, leaning back in his chair. “He insisted on walking at a snail’s pace.”

“I insisted on you not falling behind to flirt with the portraits,” Remus shot back, rolling his eyes but smiling.

Before Sirius could fire back a retort, Professor Sprout bustled into the room, her arms laden with pots of wriggling vines. The students groaned collectively as she announced they’d be working with Venomous Tentacula.

“Alright, pairs! And remember, gloves on at all times!” she called out, setting the pots down with a thud.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance, automatically pairing up as they always did. Pulling on their dragon-hide gloves, they approached their assigned plant, which was already snapping its tendrils menacingly.

“This is your chance, Padfoot,” Remus said as he reached for the pruning shears. “Prove you can actually follow instructions for once.”

“Instructions are for people who lack creativity,” Sirius quipped, though he was eyeing the plant warily.

Remus sighed, but there was fondness in his exasperation. “Just don’t lose a finger.”

As they worked together, dodging the occasional snapping tendril and trading banter, the tension of the exam and the strange moment between them earlier began to fade. Sirius’s humor and Remus’s steady presence created an easy rhythm that felt natural, comforting.

But Sirius couldn’t entirely shake the memory of that small, scribbled heart from his mind. Every now and then, he caught himself sneaking glances at Remus, who was completely focused on taming the unruly plant.

By the time class ended, their table was covered in trimmed vines and a few splashes of greenish sap.

“Well, we survived,” Sirius said as he peeled off his gloves, grinning. “Barely.”

“Speak for yourself,” Remus replied. “I’m the one who saved you from losing an eyebrow.”

“It would’ve grown back,” Sirius said breezily, earning a laugh from Remus. 

“Thanks, though,” Sirius muttered, nudging a loose rock along the path with his foot.

“Always,” Remus replied softly.

Sirius felt warmth creeping up his neck, a faint flush blooming across his cheeks. His stomach churned with a mix of nerves and something he couldn’t quite name. As they walked in companionable silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet was the only sound, but the unspoken words lingered in the air between them.

Chapter Text

The low hum of students’ chatter filled the classroom, but it was quickly stifled the moment Professor McGonagall began to speak. Her commanding presence was enough to draw everyone's attention, and even the most distracted students straightened up.

Remus and Sirius sat together, as they always did, with Peter positioned just behind them. Normally, James would be right there too, his energy impossible to ignore. But today, something was off—James’s seat was conspicuously empty. Remus distinctly remembered seeing him at lunch, so where could he have gone?

Frowning slightly, Remus glanced back at the vacant chair, a flicker of worry threatening to distract him. But he shook it off with a quiet exhale, telling himself that James would have had a reason. There was no use speculating now.

Turning his focus back to the front of the room, Remus forced himself to tune into Professor McGonagall's lecture. The upcoming Transfiguration exam loomed large in his mind, and he knew how critical it was to pay attention. No matter where James was or what might be going on, Remus couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander.

As Professor McGonagall continued her lecture, her wand moved with practiced precision, animating the diagrams on the blackboard. Remus jotted down notes as quickly as he could, his quill scratching softly against the parchment. Despite his best efforts to concentrate, his gaze kept flickering to James’s empty chair.

Sirius, who had been slouching with his chin resting on his hand, leaned over and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Moony, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Remus hesitated, keeping his eyes on his notes. “James isn’t here,” he murmured, barely audible over the steady cadence of McGonagall’s voice.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, glancing back at James’s empty seat. “Huh. You’re right. That’s odd. He was stuffing his face with treacle tart not even an hour ago.”

Remus gave a faint nod, his brows knitting together. “Exactly. I figured he’d be here.”

Sirius shrugged with a nonchalance that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a faint flicker of concern in his gaze, though he masked it well with his usual air of casual indifference. “He’s probably holed up in the library,” he murmured. “You know how he gets—always studying for some imaginary test.”

Remus snorted softly, his voice barely above a whisper to avoid drawing McGonagall’s attention. “True. James does have a knack for stressing over exams that aren’t even scheduled yet.”

Despite the lightheartedness of their exchange, Remus couldn’t shake the faint unease in the pit of his stomach. Quickly realizing that he was falling behind, he redirected his focus. His quill darted across the parchment as he hurried to copy down the notes from the blackboard, determined not to miss any crucial details from the lecture.

Professor McGonagall’s words cut through the quiet hum of quills and parchment, her tone sharp and precise as she walked the class through the finer points of human-to-object transfiguration. Remus forced himself to concentrate, though a part of his mind continued to wander, replaying the memory of James at lunch—perfectly fine, joking with Sirius, flinging peas, nothing out of the ordinary.

As the diagrams on the board shifted under McGonagall’s wand movements, Remus bit his lip in frustration. He needed to stay focused. The exam was only days away, and if he let his thoughts spiral, he’d risk falling behind. Yet, even as he tried to push the worry aside, the nagging question remained: Where was James, and why wasn’t he here? 

After hastily scrawling every last detail from the blackboard onto a small, crumpled piece of parchment, Remus barely waited for Professor McGonagall to finish her closing remarks before gathering his things. His heart thudded with a mixture of concern and urgency as he weaved through the crowd of students pouring out of the classroom.

The moment he was clear of the bustle, he headed straight for the Gryffindor common room, his strides quick and purposeful. Pushing through the portrait hole, he scanned the familiar space, his sharp eyes darting to every corner. But there was no sign of James—no unruly dark hair sticking out in every direction, no loud, boisterous voice carrying across the room. His worry deepened.

Determined, he turned on his heel and made his way to the library. It seemed the next most likely place, considering James’s occasional tendency to cram for exams in a last-minute burst of effort. The library was eerily quiet compared to the noisy corridors, the faint rustle of turning pages and the scratch of quills the only sounds to break the stillness.

Row by row, Remus ventured down the long aisles of towering bookshelves, his gaze scanning for any trace of his friend. With each empty row, his anxiety grew. Where could he possibly be? The unanswered question weighed heavier with each step.

Finally, as he rounded a corner near the Charms section, he came to an abrupt halt. There, tucked into the corner of a secluded study nook, was James. Relief surged through Remus—but it was quickly followed by confusion when he saw who James was with. Regulus Black sat beside him, their heads bent close together over a shared piece of parchment. The two seemed deep in conversation, their proximity far closer than what could be written off as mere necessity.

Remus exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The knot of tension in his chest eased slightly. At least James wasn’t hurt or in trouble. Still, the sight of the unlikely duo left him intrigued—and, if he were honest, a little amused.

Steeling himself, he walked toward them, his footsteps soft against the library’s stone floor. When he was close enough, he called out in a low but cheerful voice, “Hey, Prongs! You weren’t in Transfiguration.”

James looked up, startled, his hazel eyes wide for a split second before a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Oh, sorry,” James stammered, his grin turning slightly awkward as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was… helping Regulus with… Charms.” His voice carried a hint of hesitation, as if he were piecing the excuse together on the spot.

Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow, his eyes shifting to Regulus. The younger Black brother wasn’t making much of an effort to sell the story. Instead, he wore a faint, almost mischievous smile—a knowing expression that suggested he’d been up to something he was certain Remus wouldn’t approve of. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair as though he had all the time in the world.

Remus tilted his head, his keen gaze flicking between the two. “Charms?” he repeated, his tone laced with mild disbelief. His arms crossed over his chest as he studied James’s expression, which was now teetering between guilt and defiance. “Funny, I didn’t know helping with Charms involved whispering in hushed tones and sitting closer than most people do during duels.”

Regulus’s smirk grew a fraction wider, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “What can I say? James is an excellent teacher,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with a mix of mockery and something else that Remus couldn’t quite put his finger on.

James shot Regulus a sharp look, as if silently pleading with him to keep quiet. “It’s not a big deal, Moony,” he said quickly, brushing off the insinuation. “We were just going over a tricky spell, that’s all.”

Remus snorted softly, though the corners of his mouth twitched with restrained amusement. “Right,” he said, drawing the word out. “Because when I think of tricky Charms, the first thing that comes to mind is finding a secluded spot in the library with Regulus Black.”

James flushed slightly, and Regulus chuckled under his breath. “Don’t be so suspicious, Lupin,” Regulus drawled, his tone light but laced with a subtle edge. “Not everything is a grand conspiracy. Sometimes people just… find themselves in unexpected company.”

“Unexpected is one word for it,” Remus said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He leaned casually against the edge of the table, addressing James more directly now. “You realize McGonagall’s probably ready to give you detention for skipping class, right? I had to sit next to Sirius while he muttered about hexing Slughorn under his breath for an hour. Thanks for that.”

James groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ll deal with McGonagall later. And Sirius… well, he’s probably just mad I’m spending time with his brother.”

“Or that he didn’t think of skipping first,” Remus said dryly. “But seriously, Prongs. If you’re going to disappear in the middle of the day, at least give me a heads-up next time. You had me worried for a minute.”

James softened at that, offering a more genuine smile. “Sorry, Moony. Didn’t mean to worry you. Next time I’ll… leave a note or something.”

“Please do,” Remus replied, straightening up. His gaze flicked once more to Regulus, whose smile hadn’t wavered in the slightest. Whatever had brought the two of them together, it was clear James wasn’t ready to share—and Regulus wasn’t about to offer any explanations, either.

“Well,” Remus said, breaking the brief silence. “If you two are done with your Charms lesson, we’ve got some actual work to do back in the common room. And Sirius might spontaneously combust if you don’t show your face soon.”

James winced at the mention of Sirius, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you back there in a bit.”

With one last glance at the unlikely pair, Remus turned on his heel and walked back toward the library entrance, his mind buzzing with questions he knew would go unanswered for now. Whatever James was up to, it was bound to be interesting—and, knowing him, probably trouble.

Chapter Text

“Finally, it’s the weekend!” Sirius announced, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child set loose in a candy store. His infectious energy filled the room as he grinned widely at his friends.

“I thought the weekend would never come,” Remus replied, dramatically flopping onto his bed as if the weight of the entire school week had crushed him. He let out a theatrical groan, throwing an arm over his face for good measure.

“Time for a Hogsmeade trip!” Peter chimed in, his excitement lighting up his face. He leaned forward eagerly, already imagining the warm butterbeer and shelves of sweets at Honeydukes.

As if on cue, the door to the dormitory creaked open, and James walked in. His steps were slower than usual, but his face was glowing with an unshakable grin. Without saying a word, he crossed the room, sat on the edge of his bed, and dropped his head into his hands like someone harboring a delicious secret.

Sirius frowned, his excitement dimming slightly. “You alright, Prongs?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

James immediately straightened up, startled, as though Sirius had caught him sneaking into the kitchens past curfew. “Oh! Yeah. I’m fine,” he said quickly, waving a hand in the air as if to brush off the attention. His grin was still there, but it looked a little forced now, as if he were trying to keep something under wraps.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Alright then, mate,” he replied cautiously, though the look he shot at Remus screamed, Something’s up.

Remus caught Sirius’s eye, lifting a subtle brow in return before sitting up on his bed. “So,” Remus said casually, leaning back on his elbows, “are we heading to Hogsmeade as planned? Or is someone going to mysteriously disappear halfway there?”

james stopped abruptly just before they reached the gates to Hogsmeade, turning to face his friends. His expression was tight, and he was clutching his scarf as though it might hold him together. “Oh, Merlin,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’m sorry, guys. I—I have homework to catch up on.”

The words tumbled out so quickly they sounded almost rehearsed. His eyes darted anywhere but at his friends.

Sirius froze mid-step, turning to gape at James as though he’d just announced he’d joined the choir. “Homework? Homework?! ” he repeated, flinging his arms up dramatically. “You’re ditching a Hogsmeade trip for homework ? Come on, mate! We’ve had this planned for weeks! ”

James winced, looking thoroughly miserable. “I know,” he said, his voice faltering. “I’m sorry, I really am. I just—I can’t go. Not today.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he looked dangerously close to tears.

Remus, who had been watching quietly, stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concern. “Prongs, it’s just a trip. If something’s wrong, you can tell us. We’ll understand.”

“There’s nothing wrong!” James snapped, more harshly than he intended. He winced immediately afterward, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “I mean... nothing’s wrong. I just... have too much to do.” His words were unconvincing at best, and he knew it.

Peter shifted uncomfortably, glancing between James and the others. “Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean, we can always reschedule if—”

“No!” James interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t reschedule. You all should go. Seriously. Have fun. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, his suspicion only growing. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. We’ve known you too long. This isn’t about homework.”

“I swear it is!” James insisted, though his face betrayed him. His voice was pleading now. “Please, just... drop it, alright?”

Remus exchanged a look with Sirius, who clearly wanted to press further, but Remus gave a slight shake of his head. Pushing James any harder might only make him shut down more. “Alright,” Remus said carefully. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” James said quickly, grateful for the out. “Thanks, Moony.”

With that, James turned and hurried back toward the castle, leaving the three of them standing there in awkward silence.

Sirius huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “That was weird . He’s up to something. I know it.”

“Obviously,” Remus replied, his tone calm but thoughtful. “But whatever it is, he doesn’t want us involved. At least not yet.”

“Bet it’s about Lily,” Peter piped up, his face lighting up at the idea. “You know how he gets around her.”

Sirius snorted. “If it is about Lily, he’s being more dramatic than usual. And that’s saying something.”

Remus adjusted the strap of his bag, looking back toward the castle where James had disappeared. “Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s just go to Hogsmeade. If he wants to tell us, he’ll tell us.”

Sirius grumbled under his breath but allowed himself to be dragged along as the three of them made their way into the village.

Meanwhile, James reached the Gryffindor common room, his heart pounding in his chest. He flung himself into an armchair near the fire, his head dropping into his hands. The truth was, he wasn’t doing homework. He hadn’t been able to focus on much of anything all day. The guilt of lying to his friends gnawed at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

How could he tell them? Tell Sirius especially? James groaned into his hands. This was a disaster waiting to happen, and he knew it. But for now, he couldn’t deal with Sirius’s questions—or his judgment. Not yet.

As the lively chatter of students filled the streets of Hogsmeade, Sirius found himself walking through the bustling village with a distracted air. The laughter and excitement around him felt distant, muted, like he was watching the scene through fogged glass. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the shops, the sweets at Honeydukes, or Peter's enthusiastic recounting of Zonko’s newest tricks, his mind kept drifting back to James.

He was worried. Really worried. Was something bothering him? Was he alright? Had Sirius done something to upset him? The questions tumbled through his mind in a relentless cycle, leaving him tense and uneasy. Normally, Sirius was the life of the party—ready with a quick joke or a dramatic flourish to lift the mood—but today, he couldn’t summon the energy to play his usual part.

His thoughts chased themselves in circles, each one more troubling than the last. James’s distant behavior earlier that day didn’t sit right with him. The way he’d brushed them off with that strained excuse, the way he’d looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—it wasn’t normal for James, and it wasn’t something Sirius could just ignore.

Peter and Remus seemed perfectly at ease. Peter was busy showing off a bag of Every Flavor Beans he’d just purchased, while Remus browsed through a stack of books in the window of Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. They laughed, joked, and carried on as if everything was fine. And maybe, for them, it was.

But for Sirius, it wasn’t.

He tried to shake off the unease, forcing himself to act like nothing was wrong. He laughed at Peter’s jokes and nodded along to Remus’s musings about quills and parchment. He even managed to smirk at a group of giggling third-years who passed by, whispering excitedly about him. But underneath it all, the worry remained, a heavy weight pressing on his chest.

As they made their way to the Three Broomsticks, Sirius trailed a step behind the others, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. The sounds of clinking mugs and cheerful conversation greeted them as they entered, but even the warm, inviting atmosphere of the pub couldn’t distract him.

Sirius slid into a booth across from Peter and Remus, his gaze flicking toward the door as though he expected James to walk in at any moment. When he didn’t, Sirius’s stomach twisted further.

“You alright, Padfoot?” Remus asked suddenly, his perceptive gaze narrowing slightly.

Sirius blinked, startled. “Yeah, course I am,” he said quickly, leaning back in his seat with a practiced grin. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Remus studied him for a moment, his expression skeptical, but he didn’t press the issue. Peter, oblivious as ever, was too busy tearing into a large butterbeer and rambling about the prank he wanted to pull on Filch next week.

Sirius nodded along absently, but his mind was far away. He couldn’t stop replaying the look on James’s face earlier that day—the strained smile, the quiet “I’m fine” that was so unlike him. It gnawed at Sirius, the not knowing.

As the others chatted around him, Sirius stared down at his untouched butterbeer, his fingers tracing the rim of the mug. His thoughts refused to settle, and no matter how much he told himself that James would be fine, that he was probably overthinking it, the worry remained.

Why did it feel like something was falling apart, and he was the only one who noticed?

Remembering the Marauder’s Map tucked away in his pocket, Sirius quietly slipped it out, careful not to draw any attention. He unfolded the parchment under the table, tapping it lightly with his wand and whispering, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The intricate lines of Hogwarts unfurled before him, revealing the castle and its grounds in exquisite detail. Tiny, moving dots labeled with names danced across the map, showing the whereabouts of everyone inside. Sirius scanned it quickly, his heart racing like it was some kind of high-stakes game of hide-and-seek.

He checked the Gryffindor common room first—empty. Then the Great Hall, the library, the Astronomy Tower. His eyes darted across the map, searching every nook and cranny until, finally, he spotted the dot labeled James Potter .

His stomach flipped when he saw who was with him.

Regulus Black.

Sirius froze, staring at the two names side by side, their dots stationary in what appeared to be a quiet corner near the dungeons. A strange mix of emotions churned in his chest—surprise, confusion, and a pang of something he couldn’t quite name.

Why is James with him? What could they possibly be doing together?

He tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Sirius folded the map carefully and slid it back into his pocket, his mind racing with questions he didn’t have answers to.

Chapter Text

“Finally! It took you long enough,” Regulus said, his tone sharp with impatience. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow as James entered the dimly lit room.

“Shhh,” James hissed, closing the door behind him with care and glancing over his shoulder nervously. “I had to get away from my friends without making them suspicious.”

Regulus tilted his head, his expression somewhere between curiosity and irritation. “Wait… so they don’t know you’re here?” he asked, shrugging off his jumper and draping it casually over the back of the chair.

“Nope. Would you rather they did?” James teased, trying to sound lighthearted, though there was an edge to his voice.

Regulus let out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a sly smile. “Nope, definitely not.”

Meanwhile, back at The Three Broomsticks, the bustling chatter of patrons and clinking of mugs filled the air, but Sirius couldn’t focus on any of it. His fingers twitched against the edge of the table as he slid the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket. Whispering the familiar incantation, “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” the blank parchment came alive, unfurling its secrets before his eyes.

He traced the corridors and rooms with his finger, scanning every corner and crevice of the castle. It took a moment, but then he froze. His gaze landed on two tiny dots, side by side in the same room: James Potter and Regulus Black.

His chest tightened, a knot of confusion and unease forming in his stomach. Why would James be with Regulus? And why had James been so secretive about skipping Hogsmeade? Sirius’s mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

Without a second thought, he pushed his chair back abruptly, the wooden legs scraping against the floor.

“I’m going to get a new quill,” Sirius announced, his voice hurried and loud enough to catch Remus and Peter’s attention. He didn’t wait for their reply or ask if they wanted to come along. Not looking back, he grabbed his cloak and stormed out of the pub, determination etched on his face.

Remus raised an eyebrow as Peter shrugged, the two exchanging puzzled looks. “What’s gotten into him?” Peter asked, taking another sip of his butterbeer.

“Who knows?” Remus muttered, his gaze lingering on the door Sirius had just walked through.

Sirius made his way through the village and back toward the castle at a brisk pace, his thoughts racing faster than his feet. The cold wind bit at his face, but he barely noticed. All he could think about was getting to James and figuring out what was going on.

When he reached the castle, Sirius didn’t waste time sneaking around. His footsteps echoed against the stone floor as he navigated the familiar halls, the Marauder’s Map clutched tightly in his hand.

As he neared the room where the map had shown James and Regulus, Sirius slowed down, his heart pounding in his chest. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear faint murmurs from inside.

Taking a steadying breath, Sirius pushed the door open with more force than he intended. The sudden movement startled the two figures inside, and James practically leapt out of his chair.

“Oh, Merlin!” James exclaimed, clutching his chest as though Sirius had just cursed him.

Sirius stepped inside, his gaze darting between James and Regulus, suspicion etched on his face. “What are you two doing here… together ?” His voice wavered slightly, caught somewhere between anger and uncertainty.

“Sirius, it’s not—” Regulus started, his tone surprisingly calm, as if he could somehow talk his way out of this.

“No! Don’t ‘Sirius’ me!” Sirius snapped, cutting him off. His voice rose, sharp and accusing, bouncing off the walls of the small room. “What the hell is going on? James, you’ve been sneaking around all day, and now I find you here… with him ?” He jabbed a finger in Regulus’s direction, his emotions spiraling out of control.

“Sirius, it’s nothing!” James said hurriedly, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We’re just—”

“Don’t lie to me, James!” Sirius shouted, his frustration bubbling over. “You’ve been acting weird, and now this?”

James exchanged a quick, desperate glance with Regulus, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. “We’re… we’re playing Go Fish!” James blurted out, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure.

Sirius blinked, his tirade grinding to an abrupt halt. “...What?” he asked, his voice suddenly quieter, his earlier rage evaporating into confusion.

“Go Fish,” James repeated, gesturing to the small, slightly crumpled deck of wizarding playing cards on the table between them. “See?”

Regulus, looking utterly unbothered, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “It’s a card game, Sirius. Very innocent. No dark conspiracies here,” he said dryly, though his tone carried a hint of amusement at Sirius’s outburst.

Sirius stared at the table, his face a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. “You’re… playing Go Fish?” he echoed, his voice almost a whisper now.

“Yes, Sirius,” James said, clearly trying not to sound exasperated. “Go Fish.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint crackle of the fireplace in the corner. Sirius’s face softened, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Oh…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, now that you’ve ruined the game,” Regulus said with mock indignation, “are you going to join us, or are you just here to yell and make dramatic accusations?”

James let out a nervous laugh, but there was an underlying fondness in it as he looked at Sirius. “We’ve got extra cards if you want to stay,” he offered, holding them up in an olive-branch gesture.

Sirius hesitated, his pride warring with his guilt. After a beat, he finally huffed, “Fine. But if you two were doing anything else , I’d know.”

Regulus smirked. “We’d hardly choose Go Fish as a cover story, Sirius.”

James grinned and pulled out a chair for Sirius, the tension in the room dissipating as they shuffled the deck and began a new round. Still, Sirius couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that there was more to this meeting than either of them was letting on.

Chapter Text

“Where did Padfoot go?” Peter asked, setting his mug of butterbeer down with a soft thud.

“Wait, yeah! Where did he go?” Remus echoed, glancing around the bustling room as if Sirius might suddenly reappear among the crowd.

“He said something about going to get a quill, but it’s been a while,” Peter replied, frowning slightly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like him. He doesn’t usually vanish without a word.”

“Maybe he’s back at the castle,” Peter suggested, sitting up straighter. “We should go find him.”

“Right, let’s go, Wormtail.” Remus quickly drained the last of his butterbeer, the warm drink doing little to ease the growing unease in his chest. The two of them slipped through the crowd, weaving their way out of The Three Broomsticks and stepping into the chilly evening air.

As they began the trek back to the castle, Peter suddenly exclaimed, “Look at the map!”

Remus patted his pockets instinctively, only to groan in frustration. “Merlin’s beard… Sirius has the map.”

“Well, that’s not helpful,” Peter muttered, kicking at a stray pebble. “What if he’s gotten himself into trouble?”

“He’s Sirius,” Remus replied, though the reassurance sounded weak even to his own ears. “He probably got caught up talking to someone. Let’s just get to the castle.”

Their pace quickened, boots crunching against the gravel path as the towering silhouette of Hogwarts came into view. They made a beeline for the Gryffindor common room, climbing through the portrait hole with determined expressions.

“Sirius?” Remus called out as they entered, only to be met with silence.

Peter peered around the empty room, his nose scrunching in confusion. “Nothing. Maybe he’s upstairs.”

They jogged up the staircase to their dormitory and pushed the door open, but it was empty. The beds were neatly made, and the room was undisturbed.

“Where is he?” Peter asked, his tone now tinged with worry.

“I don’t know,” Remus admitted, running a hand through his hair. He exchanged a glance with Peter, both of them shrugging in frustration.

“Great Hall?” Peter suggested.

“It’s worth a try,” Remus replied, and they were off again, their footsteps echoing down the corridors.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, the long tables were sparsely populated, with only a few students lingering over snacks or mid-day study sessions. They scanned the room carefully, but Sirius was nowhere to be found.

Remus frowned, leaning closer to Peter. “This is odd. He’s not one to just disappear without telling us.”

Peter looked around nervously. “You don’t think—”

“Don’t say it,” Remus cut him off, though he was starting to feel the same unease. “Let’s check one more place. Maybe he’s in the Astronomy Tower or the courtyard. If we don’t find him there, we’ll need to figure out something else.”

With determination etched on their faces, they set off again, their concern for their friend growing heavier with every passing moment. 

As they approach the courtyard, faint voices drift through the chilly night air. Remus and Peter exchange a glance, recognizing the familiar tones of Regulus and James. Their curiosity piqued, they instinctively slow their steps, walking with deliberate quietness, their footfalls falling in a near-perfect rhythm to remain undetected.

“What are they doing in there?” Peter whispers, craning his neck to peer ahead.

Remus doesn’t answer, his brows furrowing as the voices grow clearer. Without hesitation, he strides forward, pushing the courtyard door open with a flourish.

“Ah-ha! Go Fish!” Regulus exclaims triumphantly, holding up a card as Sirius groans dramatically, reaching for the deck.

The sound of the door slamming against the stone startles everyone. All four heads whip toward Remus and Peter, eyes wide as if they’ve been caught red-handed.

“What’s going on here?” Remus asks, stepping fully into the classroom, his tone even but carrying a hint of sharp curiosity.

James clears his throat, attempting to look casual. “Playing Go Fish,” he replies, holding up his cards. “Want to join us?”

Remus crosses his arms, tilting his head in confusion. “Wait… James, didn’t you say you had homework you were stressing over? And Sirius—weren’t you supposed to be getting a quill?”

Sirius looks up from his cards, an innocent expression plastered across his face. “I did say that.”

“And?”

“Well…” Sirius leans back against the stone bench, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “I got… distracted. Came here looking for the two of them because—” he pulls out the Marauder’s Map, shaking it for emphasis, “—I saw them together. Alone. In this empty classroom.”

Remus’s eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Wait. James and Regulus were here together? Alone? In the middle of the day?”

James, ever the picture of nonchalance, picks up the deck of cards and starts shuffling. “I finished my homework,” he replies smoothly, avoiding eye contact.

“That still doesn’t explain what you were doing here,” Remus presses, his tone sharpening slightly.

James lets out a breath, setting the cards down on the table. “After I finished my homework, I decided to wander around the castle for a bit. You know, clear my head. That’s when I ran into Reggie, and he suggested we play a game. So we did.” His voice is steady, confident, but there’s a hint of defensiveness lingering beneath the surface.

Sirius’s head snaps up like a dog catching a scent, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Hold on a second. You just called him Reggie.” He points at James with dramatic flair. “He never lets anyone call him Reggie.”

James freezes for a fraction of a second—barely noticeable, but enough for Sirius to catch. Regulus, on the other hand, doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he lets out a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual amusement.

“Maybe I’m feeling generous tonight,” Regulus drawls, giving Sirius a pointed look.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Generous? You?” He looks between James and Regulus, his gaze scrutinizing. “What’s really going on here?”

James groans, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing’s going on, Padfoot. Merlin, you sound like my mum interrogating me after curfew.”

“James…” Remus’s voice is softer now, but no less insistent. “If there’s something we should know—something you’re not saying—just tell us.”

James exhales sharply, glancing at Regulus, who gives a subtle shrug as if to say, Your call. James hesitates, then picks up the deck of cards again, his hands moving just a little too quickly as he shuffles.

“Look, we’re just playing cards,” James says firmly, though the faintest hint of a blush creeps into his cheeks. “That’s it. Nothing scandalous, nothing secretive. Just a game of Go Fish.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly. “Go Fish doesn’t usually require hushed voices and empty classrooms in the middle of the day.”

“And yet, here we are,” Regulus says smoothly, meeting Sirius’s glare with an unbothered smirk. “What can I say? We like the atmosphere.”

Before Sirius can retort, Remus steps in, raising a hand. “Alright, enough. If James says it’s just cards, then it’s just cards. But James—” his gaze sharpens again— “next time, maybe let us know where you’re disappearing to. You had Sirius pacing around like a worried parent.”

Sirius glares at him, indignant. “I was not pacing!”

“You were,” Peter pipes up from the doorway, finally joining the conversation.

“Traitor,” Sirius mutters, slumping back in his chair.

The group settles into an awkward silence, the tension lingering in the air like a ghost. Finally, Regulus breaks it, holding up his cards. “So, are you joining the game or not?”

Remus glances at Sirius, who still looks unconvinced but reluctantly sits down. “Fine,” Sirius grumbles. “But don’t think I’m letting this go, James.”

James simply smiles, dealing out cards with practiced ease. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Padfoot.”

As the game begins, the atmosphere lightens slightly, but Sirius can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to the story. He watches James and Regulus carefully, his mind whirring with questions he doesn’t dare ask—yet.

Chapter Text

“Sirius? Come on, mate—you’re going to be late for class.” Remus’s voice was soft but insistent as he nudged Sirius’s shoulder with one hand, the other still fumbling with the knot of his tie. “You know if you show up late again, Slughorns’ going to make you write lines until your hand falls off.”

Sirius groaned, his voice muffled by the pillow as he shifted under the covers. “Mmm,” he mumbled, but after a second, he forced himself upright, eyes still half-shut and hair a complete mess. With a yawn, he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned toward the mirror perched on the bedside table. He blinked once, then gasped dramatically. “Dear Merlin,” he said, wide-eyed, “my hair is gorgeous.”

Remus turned around, caught a glimpse of Sirius’s utterly wild bedhead, and burst out laughing. “Gorgeous?” he echoed, snorting. “You look like a Blast-Ended Skrewt had a go at your head.”

Sirius grinned, shameless and still half-asleep. “An artistic disaster.”

Shaking his head, Remus stepped closer, his tie now loosely hanging around his neck. “You can’t go to class like that, you absolute menace. Sit still—I’ll fix it.”

Sirius’s smirk faltered for a second. He usually hated when people touched his hair—he’d snap at anyone who tried. But for some reason, when Remus reached out and gently ran his fingers through the tangled strands, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away. He sat perfectly still, heart thudding in his chest with an odd, fluttery sensation that he couldn’t quite explain.

“There,” Remus said after a moment, giving one last sweep of his fingers through Sirius’s now-tamed hair. “All better, Padfoot.”

Sirius turned back to the mirror, catching sight of himself—and the deep flush blooming across his cheeks. He quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

He stayed quiet as Remus moved around the room, grabbing his books and tucking them neatly into his bag. Sirius watched him, still seated on the edge of the bed, completely ignoring the ticking clock or the threat of Snape’s looming punishment. All he could think about was the feeling of Remus’s fingers in his hair—soft and careful in a way that made his stomach do somersaults.

It was such a small moment. Harmless, even. But it left behind something Sirius couldn’t shake. A warm, nervous energy coiled in his chest like fluttering wings. He found himself smiling without meaning to, eyes following Remus’s every move as if he were the most interesting thing in the room.

Maybe he was.

Remus slung his bag over his shoulder and glanced back at Sirius. “Are you coming, or are you planning to sit there all morning admiring your hair?”

Sirius blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Right. Class.” He scrambled to his feet, hastily pulling on his robes and grabbing his own bag—though he nearly forgot his wand in the process.

They walked side by side through the corridor, the morning light pouring in through the tall windows and casting golden stripes across the stone floor. The usual hum of chatter from students heading to class buzzed around them, but Sirius barely registered it. His mind was still spinning, caught somewhere between confusion and something softer.

“You okay?” Remus asked, nudging him with his shoulder as they reached the staircase.

“Hm? Yeah,” Sirius said quickly, a little too quickly. “Just… didn’t sleep much.”

Remus gave him a curious look but didn’t press. Instead, he gave a half-smile. “Well, at least your hair looks good.”

Sirius gave a soft, breathy laugh, and they descended the stairs together.

By the time they reached the classroom, most of their classmates had already filed in. Sirius paused in the doorway, scanning the room as if to get his bearings—though really, he just needed a moment to steady himself. Remus stepped ahead, making his way toward their usual seats, and Sirius followed, watching the way the back of Remus’s jumper shifted with each step.

As they sat down, Sirius turned toward the window beside him, resting his elbow on the sill. He could feel the nervous energy still buzzing under his skin, the lingering sensation of Remus’s fingers in his hair.

“Stop staring,” Remus said suddenly, without looking up from his textbook.

Sirius flinched. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me since the dorm. You’re not subtle, you know.”

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but the words stuck somewhere in his throat. Remus finally looked up, eyebrows raised in quiet amusement. There wasn’t any teasing in his tone—just curiosity. And something else Sirius couldn’t quite place.

“I wasn’t staring,” Sirius mumbled, suddenly very interested in the scratches on his desk.

Remus tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “Alright,” he said softly, turning back to his book—but Sirius could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The professor walked in moments later, starting the lesson with a wave of his wand and a flurry of chalk on the board. But Sirius barely heard a word of it. All he could think about was how warm his ears felt and how, no matter how hard he tried not to, he found his eyes drifting back to Remus every few minutes.

And every time he did, Remus was already looking. 

It felt like a century had dragged by before Professor Slughorn finally dismissed the class with his usual curt wave of the hand. Sirius practically shot out of his seat, already halfway packed—though to be fair, he hadn’t exactly been taking notes in the first place. His quill had spent most of the hour spinning idly between his fingers while his eyes kept drifting sideways.

He glanced toward Remus, who was still methodically organizing his parchment and books, his brow furrowed in that way Sirius had always found far too endearing for his own good.

Sirius waited by the edge of the desk, tapping his fingers lightly against its surface, eyes fixed on him. He wasn't in a rush—not anymore.

“Merlin’s beard!” Remus suddenly muttered, glancing at the stack of books they’d used for the potion demonstration. “I completely forgot about those.”

“I’ve got them,” Sirius said quickly, stepping forward before Remus could move. He scooped the books into the crook of his arm with surprising care, cradling them as though they were made of glass rather than battered old textbooks. “No big deal.”

Remus blinked, surprised. “Are you sure? I can just put them in my bag—”

Sirius shook his head with a grin, cutting him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. We’ve got the next class together anyway, don’t we? I’ll just carry them for you.”

As Remus stood up, the space between them narrowed, and for a moment, neither moved. Sirius caught the faint scent of parchment and something warm—like cinnamon or clove—and his heart did that annoying little flip again.

There was a pause, brief but charged. Then Remus gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but softened the sharp lines of his face.

“Thanks, Pads,” he said quietly.

Sirius swallowed and nodded, the books suddenly feeling heavier in his arms than they had a second ago. “Anytime, Moons.”

They stepped out into the corridor together, the din of the classroom fading behind them as the soft murmur of students filtered through the halls. Sirius shifted the stack of books in his arms, holding them a little tighter as Remus walked beside him.

“You were completely zoned out,” Remus teased lightly, nudging him with his elbow. “Slughorn could’ve asked you to recite the entire chapter backwards and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Sirius let out a breathy laugh. “I was, uh… thinking.”

“About what?” Remus asked, glancing sideways at him with that quiet curiosity that always made Sirius feel like he was being seen just a little too clearly.

Sirius didn’t answer right away. His mind was still tangled in that earlier moment—Remus’s fingers threading through his hair, gentle and unhurried. Normally, Sirius hated anyone touching his hair. It made his skin crawl, made him tense up and swat hands away without thinking. But this morning, when Remus had done it, something had shifted.

He hadn’t wanted it to stop.

Sirius cleared his throat and gave a half-hearted grin. “Nothing important,” he lied. “Definitely not about you messing up my meticulously crafted hair with your overly motherly hands.”

Remus chuckled. “You mean saving your hair from being a crime against humanity?”

Sirius smirked, but his voice softened. “I usually hate that, you know.”

“What?”

“People touching my hair.” He avoided Remus’s gaze, eyes fixed on some vague spot down the hallway. “Can’t stand it, actually.”

Remus slowed his pace just slightly, turning to look at him. “But this morning…”

“I didn’t mind.” Sirius glanced over, finally meeting his eyes. “Because it was you.”

The words hung there, suspended in the quiet tension between them, like something fragile and delicate—easily broken, but not quite ready to fall apart.

Remus blinked, a flush creeping up his neck, but he didn’t look away. “Oh,” he said, a little breathless.

They stood at the threshold of their next classroom now, but neither of them moved to go in.

Sirius gave a small, nervous laugh and looked down at the books in his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head, Moons.”

Remus smiled softly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Too late.”

The door creaked open, and the professor’s voice echoed out: “Inside, gentlemen!”

Sirius stepped back and motioned for Remus to go ahead. As Remus passed him, he leaned in just enough to brush his shoulder against Sirius’s and murmured, “Let me fix your hair again sometime.”

Sirius’s heart stuttered. He watched Remus slip into the classroom like nothing had happened, calm and composed as ever.

But Sirius? He was reeling—in the best kind of way.

Later that evening in the Great Hall, the usual chaos of dinner was in full swing. Laughter echoed off the enchanted ceiling, owls swooped overhead delivering late letters, and at the Gryffindor table, James and Peter were—once again—engaged in their favorite dinnertime mischief: launching peas at unsuspecting first years.

“Wormtail!” James hissed, half-scolding, half-laughing as another green missile went sailing off-course. “I told you, aim properly! You're not just supposed to chuck them at random, there’s an art to this!”

He demonstrated his technique by carefully lining up his spoon, launching a single pea across the hall. It struck a first year squarely on the shoulder and clung stubbornly to her robes. She whipped her head around, glaring in confusion—only to find James still holding his spoon, looking far too pleased with himself.

That was the last straw for Sirius, who broke into uncontrollable laughter, nearly doubling over with howling giggles. His face flushed pink from the effort, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he tried to breathe through the hilarity.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “You two are going to get us banned from dinner one day.”

James grinned triumphantly. “Worth it.”

“Where’s Moony?” he added, scanning the room as he passed his spoon to Peter for round two.

Peter, mid-aim, gestured toward the doors. “There. Just coming in.”

Sirius turned his head just in time to see Remus walking toward them, clutching his books and looking a little windswept from the cold air outside.

“Hey, Padfoot,” Remus greeted as he reached the table. His eyes flicked up to Sirius’s head, and he sighed dramatically. “Oh, Merlin, your hair’s gone rogue again.”

He set his things down beside Sirius and, without waiting for permission, reached out to smooth it back into place with familiar fingers.

Sirius didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t shove him away or swat his hand like he normally would. He just… sat there, still as a statue, eyes wide and heart thudding loudly in his chest.

James, sitting across from them, stared like he’d just witnessed something deeply unnatural. “Hold up,” he said slowly, pointing his spoon directly at Sirius now. “You didn’t flinch. You didn’t growl. You didn’t even threaten to hex him. What the hell is going on?”

Sirius blinked, as if waking from a trance. “I… I don’t know. I guess I didn’t mind.”

James narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to solve some great cosmic puzzle. “You always mind. You nearly hexed Lily in fifth year for brushing a strand behind your ear.”

Sirius gave a small shrug, suddenly very interested in his mashed potatoes.

“All better, Pads,” Remus said quietly, withdrawing his hand after one last smoothing touch and giving Sirius’s arm a gentle tap. His voice was soft, almost fond.

Sirius froze at the contact, warmth spreading through him like spilled ink—slow and inescapable. His cheeks flushed a shade darker, and for a second, he forgot how to sit like a normal human being.

Butterflies. Stupid fluttering things, crowding his chest, his stomach, his throat.

James arched a brow, looking between them, then slowly leaned toward Peter and whispered, “I think we’ve just witnessed a Marauder miracle.”

Peter, mouth full of peas, nodded solemnly.

Sirius said nothing. He just watched Remus settle into the seat beside him, trying and failing to hide the stupid grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Chapter Text

“Oi, Sirius! Don’t drift off again,” Remus whispered sharply, nudging him hard enough that Sirius nearly slipped off his chair.

Sirius jerked upright, blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes with the sleeves of his rumpled robes. “Sorry—I didn’t even realise I was dozing.”

Remus eyed him, frowning slightly. “Why are you so knackered, mate? Didn’t get much sleep?”

Sirius sighed, slouching back in his chair. “Was up all night revising. Thought I’d be productive. Big mistake.”

“Oh,” Remus murmured, his tone softening. He glanced over at Sirius, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something strangely endearing about Sirius when he wasn’t his usual cocky self—especially when he looked like a sleep-deprived puffskein with bed hair. But before he could say anything else—

“Ahem.”

Both boys turned their heads in unison to see Professor McGonagall glaring at them from the front of the room, her quill frozen mid-sentence on the blackboard.

“Lupin. Black,” she said crisply. “Stay behind after class.”

Remus winced. “Oops.”

“Well… crap,” Sirius muttered, sitting up straighter and hurriedly copying the transfiguration notes from the board before McGonagall’s stare could set him on fire.

The rest of the class passed with an uncomfortable tension hanging over their heads. As the final bell rang, students packed up their things and filtered out, shooting sympathetic looks at the two boys lingering behind.

Once the room had emptied, McGonagall seated herself at her desk and fixed them with that look—the one that could make even the most reckless Gryffindor feel like a misbehaving first year.

“You two seem to be developing a habit of chatting through my lessons,” she said, steepling her fingers. “Don’t make me separate you. I would rather not rearrange the seating chart at this point in the term.”

“Yes, Professor,” they said in unison, both of them standing stiffly at attention.

McGonagall’s sharp gaze turned to Sirius. “And you, Mr. Black. Falling asleep in my class? This material is essential for your end-of-year exam.”

Sirius hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Professor. I’ve just been overwhelmed with schoolwork. I’ve been studying for multiple exams at once, and I thought if I could get ahead now, I’d be less stressed later. I didn’t mean to fall asleep—it just… happened.”

Remus glanced sideways and noticed Sirius's tell—he always tugged at his sleeves when he was anxious. He almost reached out to still his hand, but stopped himself just short.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “You’d do well to remember that rest is just as important as revision, Mr. Black. Burning yourself out won’t help your grades.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sirius said quickly, clearly relieved she wasn’t deducting points.

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” she added, waving a hand toward the door. “Dismissed.”

As they left the classroom, Remus glanced at Sirius with a half-smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed. “Honestly, I think I was more scared of her disappointment than the actual scolding.”

“She does have that effect,” Remus said with a chuckle. After a beat, he bumped his shoulder lightly against Sirius’s. “For what it’s worth… you don’t have to burn yourself out alone. You know you could’ve asked me for help, right?”

Sirius looked at him, something soft flickering behind his tired eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

And for a moment, the weight on his shoulders didn’t feel quite so heavy.

“Ready for lunch?” Remus asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper. He could tell Sirius was still carrying the weight of the morning—his shoulders were tense, and the usual spark in his eyes had dimmed.

Sirius let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I guess. Don’t know if I’m even hungry though. I’m just… so bloody tired.”

“You can nap once we get to the table,” Remus offered, a small, comforting smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

Sirius perked up slightly at that, managing a crooked grin. “Sleep sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

By the time they made it to the Great Hall, the familiar chaos of lunchtime was already in full swing. James and Peter, as always, were in the middle of their latest distraction—flicking peas with alarming accuracy at unsuspecting students. The sound of laughter and cutlery filled the room.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “Where the hell are they getting peas from?” he mumbled as he sat down beside Remus. The platters of food hadn’t even appeared yet. He shrugged it off. He was far too exhausted to care.

“Merlin, Sirius, you look like death warmed over,” James said, lowering his spoon mid-fling to examine his best mate more closely.

Sirius flopped down at the table like a man who had just climbed a mountain. “And I’ll say it again: what is already dead cannot die.”

Remus snorted into his sleeve, failing to hold back a laugh.

A moment later, he felt a sudden weight press gently against his shoulder. He turned his head and found Sirius, eyes closed, already half-asleep, his cheek resting against Remus’s robes.

For a second, Remus didn’t move. He just sat there, staring down at the peaceful expression on Sirius’s face. His hair was tousled, lips slightly parted, and he looked… vulnerable. Almost boyish.

And then that strange fluttering sensation stirred in Remus’s stomach—unexpected, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Like someone had uncorked a bottle of fizzy butterbeer in his chest.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, cheeks tinged pink.

James leaned across the table and raised an eyebrow. “Is he… sleeping on you?”

Remus nodded slowly, his voice quiet. “Yeah. He’s out.”

Peter grinned. “Well, at least now he can’t fling peas back at us.”

Remus didn’t respond. He just let Sirius sleep, warm and steady against his shoulder, trying not to think too hard about the way his heart was quietly racing in his chest. 

It wasn’t long before lunch began to wind down and the familiar chime of the castle’s enchanted bells signaled it was time for afternoon classes. Students groaned and scraped their benches back, shuffling toward the exits. But Remus stayed perfectly still.

Sirius was still fast asleep on his shoulder, his breathing slow and steady, lashes fluttering slightly as he dreamed. There was something so soft about him like this—so unlike the loud, proud Sirius Black the rest of the world knew. It made Remus forget how to breathe for a moment.

He didn’t want to wake him. He looked too peaceful. Too warm. Too… safe.

“Pads?” Remus whispered, barely louder than the rustling of robes around them.

Sirius hummed in response, the sound sleepy and content. Instead of waking, he nuzzled closer, his head nestling into the crook of Remus’s neck like it belonged there.

Remus let out a breathy laugh, his heart flipping. “It’s time for Herbology,” he murmured gently.

“Five more minutes,” came the mumbled reply, thick with sleep and rebellion.

“You say that every morning,” Remus said with a fond shake of his head. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

Sirius groaned dramatically, stretching his arms above his head before finally sitting upright. His hair was a complete mess, sticking out in every direction like he’d just fought a windstorm in his dreams. He let out a huge yawn and ran a hand lazily through it to smooth it down.

And that’s when it happened.

A cascade of tiny green missiles—peas—rained from his hair, bouncing onto the table and scattering across the bench. The moment was perfectly timed with a sudden eruption of giggles from down the table.

James and Peter were in a hysterical giggle fit, laughing so hard that James nearly fell off the bench.

Remus smirked, already picking up both his and Sirius’s satchels. “They were flinging peas into your hair while you were asleep,” he explained, standing up and offering Sirius a hand. “I didn’t want to wake you by pulling them out.”

Sirius stared at the peas now littering the table with a dazed expression. Then he turned toward James and Peter, who were still cackling like hyenas.

“You two are actual goblins,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

“Wouldn’t have been funny if he’d woken up!” Peter gasped between fits of laughter.

“But he didn’t!” James pointed out triumphantly.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Remus said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and nudging Sirius toward the exit. “Let’s get to Herbology before McGonagall finds another reason to separate us.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh, but fell into step beside him—peas still occasionally falling from his hair as they walked.

Chapter Text

“Finally, that’s over!” James groaned, throwing his arms up in exaggerated relief as they stepped out into the sunlight. He looked like someone had lifted a hundred-pound weight off his shoulders.

“I’ve never been so glad to finish an exam,” Peter agreed, rubbing his eyes like the written answers had physically drained him.

Remus let out a tired laugh. “No more late nights. No more memorizing potion ingredients or wand movements.”

“And no more Padfoot snoring in the middle of Transfiguration,” James added, shooting Sirius a pointed look.

“I do not snore in class,” Sirius protested indignantly, tossing his hair out of his face with flair.

“You do. Loudly. McGonagall was starting to reach for her wand the other day,” James retorted.

“Alright, alright, maybe once or twice,” Sirius conceded, hands raised in surrender. “But can you blame me? That woman talks like a sleeping draught.”

With laughter and light banter echoing between them, the four made their way through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, exhaustion settling into their bones like fog. When they finally reached the Gryffindor common room and climbed the stairs to their dormitory, James and Peter immediately collapsed onto their beds with dramatic groans of relief.

Remus smirked and darted toward Sirius’s bed, flopping onto it like he belonged there. “Finally, some peace,” he sighed, hands tucked behind his head.

Sirius blinked, staring at the sight. “Oi! That’s my bed, Lupin. Off.”

“Make me,” Remus replied smugly, not budging an inch.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you want to play it like that?” He stepped closer, then without warning, launched himself on top of Remus with a thump. Peter let out a cackle from across the room as Sirius sprawled dramatically over his friend.

And still, Remus didn’t move.

“I give up,” Sirius muttered after a beat, his voice muffled into Remus’s shoulder. “If you’re not going to leave, shift over. I need a place to crash too.”

With a quiet chuckle, Remus shifted to the side, leaving just enough room for Sirius to climb under the blanket with him. Shoulder to shoulder. Hip to hip. Their arms brushed. Their legs did too.

Sirius could feel it again—that flutter in his stomach. Not nerves exactly. Something warmer. Something deeper. His face was hot. He was sure his cheeks were red.

But he didn’t care. Because Remus was still beside him. And smiling.

Peter and James were already halfway to snoring when Sirius finally got settled, the heavy rhythm of their breathing syncing with the faint crackle of the fire downstairs.

Sirius lay stiffly at first, trying to keep a respectful distance even though the bed made that nearly impossible. But Remus didn’t seem to mind. He was reading a dog-eared copy of Magical Theory, the pages casting soft shadows over his face in the dim light.

Then Sirius felt it—fingers in his hair. Gently brushing it back. Tentative at first, as if asking for silent permission.

Everyone knows Sirius Black has a rule: don’t touch his hair. It's unwritten but ironclad. Even James, who gets away with just about everything, has been swatted more than once for trying.

But Remus? Remus is the exception.

Sirius shifts slightly, angling his head just enough so that Remus’s hand can continue its slow path through his hair. Fingers thread gently through tangled curls, smoothing them with a touch so soft it could barely be called a gesture. But to Sirius, it’s everything.

The world fades.

The ever-present hum of doubt—the cruel whisper that he’s not enough, not smart enough, not good enough—goes silent. The nagging fear of failure, the pressure of family expectation, the heavy ache of being seen but not understood… all of it disappears.

Even James and Peter’s snoring, so obnoxiously loud a moment ago, recedes to a distant hum.

All that’s left is Remus.

Sirius can feel every inch of him: the rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm of his breathing, the steady warmth of his hand. His heartbeat, slow and sure, pulses where their arms press together. It's grounding. Anchoring.

It feels right—like this is how it was always meant to be. As if the universe had shifted, quietly and decisively, and brought them here: to this moment, in this bed, with nothing between them but the silence and everything they aren’t saying out loud.

Sirius doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.

He shifts closer, curling slightly and pressing his face into the crook of Remus’s neck. The scent of old parchment and something faintly minty lingers there, familiar and comforting. He lets his hand rest lightly against Remus’s chest, right over his heart, just to feel the reassurance of it.

Remus doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t ask questions or break the moment. He just stays still, steady, present.

And in that safe, quiet space, Sirius’s eyelids begin to droop. He fights it at first, just wanting to hold on a little longer—but warmth and exhaustion win in the end.

His last conscious thought, before the dark finally takes him, is that this—this feeling, this closeness, this peace—is everything he’s ever wanted, whether he knew it or not.

He falls asleep in Remus’s arms, a soft smile ghosting across his face.

And Remus holds him, as if he was always meant to.

Chapter Text

“Oi! Stop flinging peas at people, Padfoot,” Remus scolded, reaching across the table to snatch the spoon right out of Sirius’s hand. His fingers brushed against Sirius’s for the briefest second, and Remus felt it—those fluttery nerves in his stomach, the kind that caught him off guard every single time. Butterflies. Always butterflies.

Sirius, of course, didn’t notice. He simply slumped back in his seat with a dramatic groan, throwing his hands in the air like a child caught red-handed.
“Alright, alright, I surrender,” he said, grinning wickedly as though he’d just been crowned the winner of some invisible game. His grey eyes sparkled with mischief, completely unrepentant.

“You should surrender,” Remus muttered, lowering his voice. He leaned in ever so slightly, tilting his head toward Sirius’s. “McGonagall’s staring directly at you.”

Sirius froze. “She is?” he whispered, darting his gaze toward the head table. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was sitting with her arms folded, lips pressed into a thin line, one eyebrow arched so high it nearly touched her hat.

James and Peter immediately burst into stifled laughter, trying and failing to cover it with coughs.
“Oh, brilliant,” James wheezed, leaning toward Peter. “She’s going to string him up by his ears this time.”

“Shut it,” Sirius hissed, straightening his posture in a sudden, comical attempt to look innocent. He folded his hands neatly on the table, eyes wide and faux-angelic, though the corner of his mouth twitched as though he couldn’t quite hold the act together.

Remus shook his head, stifling a laugh. “That look won’t save you.”

“Won’t it?” Sirius shot back, his grin returning, reckless and shameless. Then, lowering his voice so only Remus could hear, he added, “Besides… I’d take detention over McGonagall hexing me any day.”

At that exact moment, McGonagall rose from her seat at the staff table, her gaze sweeping the hall like a hawk. The Marauders collectively held their breath.

“Uh oh,” Peter whispered.

“She’s coming this way,” James said with relish, clearly enjoying Sirius’s impending doom far too much.

Sirius elbowed Remus lightly under the table. “You’re my alibi, Moony. If she asks, you tell her I was the picture of good behavior. Perfect student. Exemplary Gryffindor.”

Remus shot him a look, lips quirking despite himself. “You? Exemplary? Merlin help me if she believes that.”

McGonagall’s robes swished closer, her sharp gaze zeroing in on their table. Sirius tried his best to look composed, but the sparkle of mischief never left his eyes.

McGonagall’s robes flared as she stopped at their table, arms crossed in that terrifyingly elegant way only she could pull off. The entire group froze like first years caught nicking treacle tart.

“Mr. Black,” she said crisply, her Scottish accent cutting through the Great Hall like a blade. “Do you have an explanation for why half the Slytherin table is covered in peas?”

Sirius blinked up at her, eyes wide, lips curling into his most charming grin. “An… unfortunate cutlery accident, Professor.”

“An accident,” she repeated, unimpressed.

“Yes,” Sirius said confidently, as though the word itself was proof. “A terrible, tragic slip of the spoon. Gravity is to blame. Completely out of my hands.”

James snorted into his goblet, which earned him a pointed glare from McGonagall. He immediately started coughing loudly, as if that might disguise it.

McGonagall turned back to Sirius. “So, it was gravity, was it?”

“Absolutely, Professor. A menace, that gravity. Can’t be trusted.” Sirius placed a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming with mock solemnity. “I was but a victim of physics.”

Peter was shaking with laughter, trying desperately to smother it behind his napkin.

McGonagall arched one eyebrow so high that even Dumbledore, from across the room, tilted his head curiously. “And tell me, Mr. Black,” she continued, her voice dangerously smooth, “does gravity also explain why Mr. Pettigrew’s spoon is covered in mashed potatoes? Or why Mr. Potter appears to be hiding peas in his robes?”

James froze mid-movement, a green pea tumbling dramatically out of his sleeve and onto the table.

“Betrayed by the legume,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

McGonagall’s lips twitched—just barely. Almost a smile. Almost. “I see. Then perhaps gravity will enjoy sharing a detention with you all this evening. I suggest you report to Mr. Filch directly after dinner.”

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest as though mortally wounded. “Detention? But Professor, my studies—my academic future—!”

“—would greatly improve if you spent less time weaponizing your vegetables,” she interrupted briskly.

Remus had been quiet the whole time, fighting to keep his composure, but at that line he broke, snorting so hard he nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

McGonagall gave him a side-eye glance before turning back to Sirius. “One more word, Black, and you’ll be serving double. Am I understood?”

Sirius swallowed hard and gave her his most innocent nod. “Crystal clear, Professor. Silent as the grave. Not a single peep.”

“Good.” McGonagall swept away toward the staff table, her robes billowing like storm clouds.

As soon as she was out of earshot, James leaned over, grinning from ear to ear. “Weaponizing vegetables. Brilliant. You’re officially a pioneer, Padfoot.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Remus muttered, though his lips twitched despite himself.

“Encourage me?” Sirius said, scandalized. “Moony, she basically just acknowledged me as a genius of the vegetable arts. I’m a visionary!”

“You’re an idiot,” Remus said flatly.

Sirius leaned closer, his grin spreading wider. “Your idiot, though.”

Remus’s ears went pink as James and Peter dissolved into laughter.

Detention with Filch had been, as always, a mix of misery and absurdity. James had spent half the time whispering insults at Mrs. Norris until she hissed at him, Peter had nearly dropped a bucket of dirty water on his own shoes, and Sirius—true to form—had made loud, dramatic sighs every five minutes until Filch threatened to glue his mouth shut.

By the time they were released, it was well past curfew. James and Peter trudged upstairs toward the dormitory, muttering about how unfair it all was, but Sirius lagged behind. Remus noticed, glancing back as Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at a loose stone in the corridor.

“You alright?” Remus asked, slowing his steps until they fell into stride together.

Sirius shrugged. “Filch’s voice is still rattling around in my skull. Man sounds like he gargles nails for fun.”

Remus gave a small laugh, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls. “At least it’s over.”

“Mm.” Sirius tilted his head, studying Remus with a look that was sharper than usual, though his voice was softer. “You didn’t laugh at me too much, did you? With the peas, I mean.”

Remus quirked a brow. “You mean when McGonagall nearly throttled you for weaponizing vegetables?”

Sirius smirked at the phrasing. “Exactly that.”

Remus’s lips twitched. “I laughed just enough.”

That earned him a grin from Sirius, the kind that made his grey eyes shine in the torchlight. The corridor had grown quiet, the castle asleep around them, and for once Sirius didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with jokes.

They reached the dormitory door, but instead of going in, Sirius stopped, leaning against the wall. Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “Not going in?”

“In a bit,” Sirius said casually, though his tone carried a rare weight. He hesitated, then added, “You know… when you grabbed that spoon earlier, stopped me—”

Remus tilted his head, waiting.

Sirius’s grin faltered, just slightly. “Didn’t hate it.”

Remus blinked. “Didn’t hate what?”

“Being stopped. Or you touching me. Normally I’d have swatted anyone’s hand away, no questions asked.” Sirius’s gaze softened, a little uncertain. “But… it was you. And I didn’t mind.”

For a moment, the world stilled. The firelight from the common room flickered faintly through the door, casting shifting shadows over both of them.

Remus’s chest tightened. He gave a small smile, stepping just close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Good thing it was me, then.”

Sirius let out a low chuckle, the kind that carried more relief than humor. He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closing briefly. “Good thing,” he echoed, almost like he was testing the words on his tongue.

Remus lingered beside him, and Sirius didn’t move away. For once, the restless energy in him had quieted, like he’d found a pocket of peace he didn’t even know he was searching for.

They finally slipped into the common room, where the fire was burning low, painting the walls in orange light. James and Peter had clearly already gone up—they’d left a half-eaten bag of sweets and a chessboard abandoned on the table.

Sirius didn’t say a word, just started up the stairs, his steps surprisingly quiet for once. Remus followed, the weight of what Sirius had said still circling in his mind. Didn’t mind. Because it was me. The words replayed, warm and dangerous all at once.

When they reached the dorm, James was already sprawled across his bed with one arm hanging off the side, snoring like a dying trumpet. Peter was cocooned in his blankets, twitching every so often as if he was having some dramatic dream about food.

Remus headed for his own bed, setting his bag down, but before he could climb in, Sirius’s voice came, low and deliberate:

“Oi. Moony.”

Remus turned. Sirius was standing beside his own bed, tugging his tie loose, but his grey eyes flicked up to meet Remus’s. He looked almost… unsure.

“You’re not going to steal my bed again, are you?” Sirius asked, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Depends. You planning on flopping on top of me again?”

“Tempting,” Sirius drawled, but there was no bite in it—just warmth. He toed off his shoes, then flopped backwards on his bed with a dramatic sigh. After a second, he cracked an eye open. “...Well? You just going to stand there looking awkward?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but his heart was hammering. Slowly, he crossed the room, and instead of climbing into his own bed, he sat on the edge of Sirius’s.

“Comfortable?” Sirius asked, pretending to glare at him.

“Quite.”

Sirius made a sound that was half-grumble, half-laugh, then scooted over, patting the space beside him. “Well, if you’re going to do it, at least do it properly, Lupin.”

Remus hesitated, then lay down, shoulder brushing shoulder. It felt too close and not close enough all at once. Sirius shifted onto his side, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lazily across his stomach—but his knee bumped against Remus’s, and he didn’t move it away.

The silence stretched, filled only by James’s snoring and the crackle of the fire downstairs.

Sirius broke it first, his voice low, almost swallowed by the night: “You know I don’t let people touch my hair.”

Remus turned his head slightly. “I know.”

“You’re the only one I don’t mind.” Sirius’s words were steady, but there was something raw underneath.

Remus felt that now-familiar flutter in his stomach. He lifted a hand, slow and deliberate, brushing his fingers through Sirius’s dark hair. Sirius’s eyes fluttered shut almost instantly, tension bleeding out of his body.

Everything went quiet—like the world had folded down to just the two of them, lying side by side, breathing the same air. Sirius shifted closer, resting his forehead against Remus’s shoulder, and let out a sigh that sounded almost like surrender.

Within minutes, his breathing evened out. Asleep.

Remus stayed awake a little longer, hand still tangled gently in Sirius’s hair, staring at the ceiling with a heart that felt both too full and impossibly light. He knew this was dangerous, knew he should probably move back to his own bed—but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

Because this—Sirius, soft and peaceful in his arms—felt like something he never wanted to let go of.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Sirius stirred awake to the pale light of dawn spilling through the curtains. At first, he thought he’d rolled into James by accident—James had been known to climb into someones bed and sprawl like a starfish in his sleep. But when his eyes blinked open, it wasn’t James.

It was Remus.

His head rested neatly on Sirius’s shoulder, lips parted slightly, hair falling in messy waves across his forehead. One arm was draped securely across Sirius’s waist, as if he’d claimed him in the night. A leg—warm and heavy—was tangled over Sirius’s own.

Sirius froze. His brain screamed move, now, before he wakes up, but his body betrayed him. He didn’t move. Not an inch.

Instead, he let his gaze linger.

Remus looked so peaceful like this—so unlike his usual composed self. The constant worry lines between his brows had softened, his expression calm, almost boyish in sleep. Sirius’s chest tightened at the sight, a feeling he couldn’t quite name swelling up in him.

His stomach was doing ridiculous acrobatics—backflips and somersaults—but still, Sirius stayed. For once, he didn’t crack a joke, didn’t shove anyone away. He just let it happen.

Cautiously, as if any sudden movement might shatter the moment, Sirius shifted the tiniest bit to get more comfortable. Remus stirred but didn’t wake—only murmured something unintelligible and pressed closer, his fingers curling into the fabric of Sirius’s shirt.

Sirius’s breath caught. Then, despite himself, he smiled. A real smile. Not the usual cocky grin he threw around like armor, but something softer, something fragile.

And Merlin help him, but it felt good.

He wanted to stay like this forever, in this stolen little pocket of peace. Just him and Remus, with no expectations, no family breathing down his neck, no professors threatening detentions, no chaos or noise. Just quiet. Just them.

He didn’t dare to move—not even when James mumbled in his sleep and rolled over, not even when the first sounds of students heading to breakfast echoed faintly from the floor below.

For once, Sirius Black chose stillness.

He let Remus rest.

And for the first time in a long while, Sirius allowed himself to believe—if only for this one morning—that maybe he deserved this.

The boys spilled out of the dormitory not long after, Sirius trailing behind as James and Peter chattered about breakfast like it was the most important mission of the day. Remus walked beside them, his stride easy, as though nothing at all unusual had happened that morning.

Sirius, on the other hand, could hardly keep his thoughts straight.

He could still feel it. The weight of Remus’s head on his shoulder. The warmth of his arm around his waist. The steady rhythm of his breathing, soft and even against his chest. It played over and over in his head, every detail sharper than it had any right to be.

Merlin’s beard, he’d even caught himself smiling like an idiot before Remus woke up.

“Oi, Padfoot,” James’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “You coming, or planning to daydream your way through the corridor?”

Sirius blinked, realizing he’d nearly walked straight into a suit of armor. “I’m coming,” he said quickly, striding to catch up, trying to mask his daze with a careless smirk.

They pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. The morning chatter was in full swing—clattering plates, the smell of toast and sausages, owls swooping overhead with letters. Sirius slid into his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, but his attention was anywhere but on the food.

James was piling eggs onto his plate, Peter was already buttering toast, Remus reached calmly for the pumpkin juice—everything perfectly normal. Except Sirius couldn’t stop glancing sideways at him.

Remus, with his sleeves rolled up just so. Remus, pouring himself juice like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Remus, who had been tangled around him only an hour ago like they were—well. Like they were more than they were.

Sirius stabbed a sausage with more force than necessary.

“You alright, Pads?” Peter asked through a mouthful of toast.

“Me? Fine. Perfect. Brilliant,” Sirius said too quickly, flashing what he hoped was his most convincing grin. He shoved the sausage in his mouth before anyone could question him further.

James narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re acting weird.”

“I always act weird,” Sirius shot back, which was true enough, but even he could feel the heat creeping into his cheeks.

Across the table, Remus glanced up at him briefly, brow raised in that quiet, curious way of his. The tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—so faint Sirius almost wondered if he’d imagined it.

Sirius quickly dropped his gaze to his plate, pretending to be very interested in his eggs.

He told himself he’d forget it. That he’d laugh it off. That he’d move on. But even as James rambled about Quidditch practice and Peter asked if anyone had seen his Charms essay, Sirius’s mind was still looping back to the same place—Remus, pressed against him in the quiet of their dorm, soft and warm and impossibly right.

And for once, Sirius Black didn’t feel like the unshakable one. He felt flustered. Completely undone. 

The Great Hall was slowly emptying as students drifted off to their next classes, leaving behind only the clatter of plates and the faint scent of breakfast. Sirius lingered at the table, eyes flicking toward Remus every few seconds, heart hammering in a rhythm that made focusing nearly impossible.

Finally, the last few students shuffled out, and the room fell into a gentle hush. Sirius seized the moment. “Right,” he muttered, standing up a little too quickly. “I—uh, I need to… get some air.”

Remus, of course, rose just as quickly, his bag slung casually over his shoulder. “I’ll come with you,” he said softly, his voice carrying that easy calm that made Sirius’s chest thrum.

They slipped out of the hall together, the corridor quiet except for the soft echo of their footsteps. Sirius tried to act casual, swinging his arms loosely by his sides, but his mind was still replaying every second of Remus’s head on his shoulder, the weight of his arm wrapped around him, the warmth of him pressed close.

Remus, ever observant, glanced sideways at him. “You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked, one eyebrow quirked.

Sirius choked on a laugh he didn’t want to give away. “I’m… fine. Totally fine. Just… thinking.”

“About what?” Remus teased gently, his gaze soft but unwavering.

Sirius froze for half a heartbeat, then blurted out, “About you.”

Remus blinked, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. “About me, huh?”

“Not… like that,” Sirius said quickly, flailing mentally. “Well… maybe a bit like that. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could disappear under the stone floor.

Remus stepped closer, and Sirius’s stomach did that familiar flip. “You’re cute when you panic,” Remus said quietly, just enough for Sirius to hear.

Sirius’s cheeks flamed, but before he could answer, Remus simply leaned his head on Sirius’s shoulder, brushing their arms together. Sirius stiffened for a second, then let out a tiny, helpless laugh, melting into the warmth of him.

“Guess we’re both panicking then,” Sirius murmured, tilting his head just enough to rest it against Remus.

For a few blissful moments, the corridor was theirs alone. No lessons, no exams, no chaos—just Sirius and Remus, side by side, sharing a quiet, comfortable warmth.

And for once, Sirius didn’t have to overthink, didn’t have to act cool. He just let himself exist in that moment, and it felt… perfect.

Chapter Text

“So, Sirius,” James began, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why are you acting… weird around Remus?”

Sirius nearly choked on his drink, his mind scrambling. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered, a blush creeping up his neck.

James raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly and spreading his hands in exaggerated exasperation. “That’s exactly what I mean! You’ve been… different. Flustered, distracted, staring at him like he’s the only person in the castle. It’s… it’s concerning.”

Sirius groaned, slapping a hand over his face. “I am not flustered! I—It’s nothing! I mean, he’s just Remus! And I’m just—” He waved his hands helplessly, trailing off as words failed him completely.

Peter, who had been quietly munching on a chocolate frog, suddenly piped up. “Mate, it’s obvious. You’re acting like a lovesick first-year. Just admit it.”

Sirius shot him a look that could have burned through steel. “I am NOT lovesick! And I am certainly not a first-year!”

James leaned closer again, eyes glinting with amusement. “Padfoot, come on. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And that time in the greenhouse this morning—your hair was a mess, your cheeks were red, you could barely get a word out, and you kept checking if he was looking at you… You were practically glowing!”

Sirius buried his face in his hands, muttering, “I am not glowing. I am perfectly normal!”

James chuckled, shaking his head. “Right, sure. Normal. The kind of normal that makes everyone around you suspicious and your best mate about to explode with questions.”

Sirius peeked through his fingers, glaring but unable to hide the faint twitch of a smile. “You’re impossible, James.”

James’s grin widened. “Maybe. But you love it.”

Sirius groaned again, dramatically, but there was no mistaking the blush still heating his cheeks. He tried to think of a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, maybe even escape the cafeteria for a quiet moment with Remus—but before he could move, James leaned even closer.

“Honestly, Padfoot,” James continued, whispering conspiratorially, “just tell me. Do you like him, or do you just enjoy driving yourself crazy pretending you don’t?”

Sirius froze. The cafeteria suddenly seemed unbearably loud, the chatter and clatter of plates fading into the background as his mind scrambled. “I… I—”

Peter snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, this is rich. The great Sirius Black, speechless. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Sirius groaned again, this time burying his face in the table. “I hate you both,” he muttered faintly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite his protest.

James leaned back, satisfied, a smug little smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t hate us. Not really. Admit it.”

Sirius peeked up through his fingers, eyes narrowed but sparkling. “Maybe I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you anything.”

Peter clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “Sure, mate. Sure. Keep pretending. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Sirius, cheeks still flaming, grabbed his bag and pushed back from the table. “I need fresh air,” he muttered, trying to regain any semblance of dignity.

James called after him with a grin, “Don’t trip over your own feet while daydreaming about Remus!”

Sirius stormed—or rather, stalked—through the castle corridors, cheeks still burning and brain replaying James’s relentless teasing on an endless loop. He tried to focus on his footing, the cold stone under his boots, even the faint flicker of torchlight along the walls—but no matter how hard he tried, every thought led back to Remus.

And then, just around a corner, he spotted him.

Remus was leaning casually against the stone railing by the library entrance, a stack of parchment in one hand, quill tucked behind his ear. He looked… impossibly calm. That very calmness made Sirius’s stomach twist in a mess of nerves and something else—something warmer.

Sirius paused, taking a deep breath, attempting to act casual. He leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, feigning complete indifference.

“Morning, Padfoot,” Remus said without looking up, his voice easy, teasing even.

“Morning,” Sirius mumbled, voice tighter than intended. He hoped he didn’t sound like a first-year with a crush.

Remus finally glanced at him, and—of course—he was already looking. Sirius felt his chest seize. He could feel his own heartbeat in his throat.

“Late night studying?” Remus asked, tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes soft but inquisitive.

Sirius swallowed hard. “Uh… yeah, you know… just… homework.” He tried to shrug, hoping it didn’t look like he was completely flustered.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Homework, huh?” There was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You don’t usually look that… distracted while doing homework, Sirius.”

Sirius’s stomach did a backflip. He wanted to deny it, to walk away, to act like nothing was happening, but every time he opened his mouth, Remus’s steady gaze held him in place.

Before he could think of a clever excuse, Remus stepped closer, the soft scrape of his boots against the stone floor echoing in the quiet corridor. “You okay, Pads?” he asked softly. “You’ve been… off all morning.”

Sirius’s mind scrambled. Off? Me? No. Totally normal. He forced himself to look anywhere but directly at Remus, pretending to study the spines of the nearby bookshelves. “Yeah. Totally fine. Just… tired.”

Remus’s hand brushed against Sirius’s arm—not quite intentionally, maybe just the way he adjusted the parchment—but Sirius felt it all the way to his toes. His cheeks flamed, and he swallowed hard, desperately trying to act casual. “I mean, it’s just… early.”

Remus’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Uh-huh.” He leaned just slightly closer, enough that Sirius could feel the warmth of him. “Come on, you’ve been dragging yourself around all day. Let’s go to the Great Hall before breakfast ends. I’ll… keep an eye on you.”

Sirius felt his knees weaken. “You… you don’t have to,” he muttered, voice low.

Remus chuckled softly, the sound making Sirius want to melt right there. “I know. But I want to.”

Sirius’s chest felt impossibly full. He wanted to say something witty, clever, or at least act cool—but all he could manage was a small, flustered smile.

Together, they walked side by side through the quiet castle corridors. Sirius stole glances at Remus, and every time, of course, Remus was already looking back. Sirius wanted to look away, to hide, to pretend he wasn’t completely smitten—but the warmth in his chest made him linger.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, Sirius was practically floating. All he could focus on was Remus, walking calmly beside him, the early morning light catching the edges of his hair and making Sirius’s heart do little flips.

And for just a moment, Sirius realized he didn’t want to act casual anymore. He didn’t want to hide the way he felt, not when Remus was right there.

As they reached the Gryffindor table, Sirius felt Remus brush his hand lightly against his own—not a touch too many, just enough to make Sirius’s stomach flutter. He glanced over, eyes wide, and Remus winked.

Sirius had no words. He could only grin, his heart thundering, as he sat down next to Remus. And somewhere deep down, he knew that, somehow, this—this little shared moment—was the start of something wonderfully, wonderfully dangerous… in the best way possible.

Chapter Text

Sirius tossed and turned in his bed, muttering under his breath and flinging an arm over his face. No matter how he shifted, no matter how he tried to focus on homework, the noise in his mind wouldn’t settle. Every thought spiraled back to Remus—Remus’s warmth, the way he had rested on him, the gentle brush of his hands through his hair. His chest felt tight, and his stomach fluttered in a way that made sleep impossible.

After what felt like an eternity, Sirius sighed, conceding defeat. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He moved with careful deliberation, slipping into warm clothes he’d left folded on his chair. Every step through the dark dormitory felt weighted, as though the castle itself knew he was carrying something fragile inside him.

He left the dorm, the cold night air hitting his face as he stepped into the empty corridors. He walked swiftly but quietly, boots muffled against the stone floor, until he reached the familiar sanctuary he often sought when his thoughts became too loud—the boat ramp by the lake.

It was his place. His private, silent refuge. He curled up on the wooden planks, arms hugging his knees, and let his gaze drift to the sky. The stars were impossibly bright tonight, scattered across the dark velvet like glimmering jewels. Normally, this would bring him peace, help him untangle the knots in his mind. But tonight, no matter how many times he traced the constellations with his eyes, the only thing he could focus on was the memory that refused to leave—Remus.

He pressed a hand to his face, trying to steady the rapid thump of his heart. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? he wondered, whispering it to the night. I can’t even sleep, and all I want is… him.

A quiet sound made him freeze. The faint crunch of footsteps against gravel, soft but deliberate. Sirius tensed, almost ready to bolt, until a familiar, calm voice reached him.

“Sirius?”

He looked up, squinting through the shadows, and saw Remus stepping onto the ramp, lantern in hand. The glow of the light highlighted the soft curve of his face, the gentle set of his shoulders. His eyes, filled with concern, locked on Sirius instantly.

“Remus…” Sirius breathed, caught somewhere between relief and embarrassment. He wanted to scramble, to hide the way his chest fluttered, but the exhaustion won out.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Remus said softly, sliding closer, kneeling down at the edge of the ramp. “I thought I’d check on you. You weren’t in the dorm.”

Sirius wanted to argue that he was fine, that he just needed air, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just let out a small, tired sigh, leaning back slightly to watch Remus.

“You… come here a lot,” Remus continued, voice gentle, almost teasing. “I know it’s your spot.” He reached out hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair from Sirius’s face. “But I thought maybe… I could sit with you tonight?”

Sirius’s stomach did a backflip. Sit with me? Here? Now? He swallowed hard, his voice catching. “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that.”

Remus smiled, a quiet, understanding smile that made Sirius’s heart feel like it might burst. He sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched, but careful not to crowd him. For a long moment, neither spoke. Just the soft lap of the water against the shore, the whisper of wind, and the silent comfort of being near each other.

Sirius finally let himself relax, leaning slightly into Remus’s side. The tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket of night. Here, in this quiet corner of the world, with Remus beside him, it felt… right. Like maybe some things weren’t so impossible after all.

And for the first time that night, Sirius felt like sleep might just come.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Remus leaned his head onto Sirius’s shoulder. The motion was so natural, so unassuming, that Sirius’s chest immediately tightened. He froze, panic fluttering in his stomach, unsure if he should move or stay. But without thinking, almost instinctively, his arm came up and wrapped around Remus’s shoulders, pulling him just a little closer.

The tiniest warmth spread through Sirius at the contact, and he found himself letting it happen, holding Remus there without realizing he was doing it. Remus shifted slightly, sighing softly into Sirius’s shoulder, a contented sound that made Sirius’s heart feel like it was trying to escape his chest.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, the two of them suspended in a quiet world of shared breath and gentle warmth. The thoughts that had tormented Sirius earlier—the stress, the worries, the endless what-ifs—faded into the background. There was only this: Remus, soft and steady against him, and the feeling that somehow, everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

Sirius’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. His hand remained lightly draped over Remus’s shoulder, and he realized, with a start, that he didn’t want to let go. The sensation was new and dizzying, but comforting all at once. He could feel Remus’s steady heartbeat against his own side, hear the soft rise and fall of his breathing, and it was enough to make him forget the stars, the lake, even the worries that had chased him here.

“Hey…” Sirius murmured softly, as if afraid to break the spell of the moment.

Remus hummed in response, nestling closer without saying a word, letting Sirius’s arm stay where it was.

Sirius’s stomach did another backflip, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was warmth. Contentment. Something tender and thrilling all at once. For the first time that night, he let himself relax completely, closing his eyes for just a moment, and letting himself feel safe, connected, and utterly… at home.

And there, under the quiet brilliance of the stars, the two of them stayed together, the world beyond the lake and ramp fading away.

Chapter Text

 “Where were you last night?” James asks, catching up to Remus with his usual grin, throwing an arm lazily around his shoulders. His tone is light, but there’s that teasing glint in his eyes that always spells trouble.

Remus stiffens slightly. “Just walking around the castle,” he says, trying to sound casual, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor ahead. “Couldn’t sleep.”

James raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh yeah? You sure you weren’t with Sirius?” he drawls, dragging out the name just to watch Remus flinch.

“W–what? No,” Remus stammers, far too quickly for it to sound convincing. He can already feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“Mmhm,” James hums, glancing over at Peter, who’s struggling not to laugh. “Because I could’ve sworn I saw you sneaking back into the dorm this morning, Moony. And Pads looked like he hadn’t slept a wink either.”

Remus blinks, desperately trying to form a reply. “We— we just talked. That’s all.”

“Talked?” James repeats, grinning like a cat who’s found cream. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“James,” Remus warns, but his voice lacks conviction. His stomach twists at the sound of Sirius’s name — that familiar flutter that he can’t quite smother anymore.

Peter pipes up through a laugh, “I think someone’s got a bit of a crush.”

Remus groans and rubs a hand over his face, trying to will the blush away. “You two are impossible.”

“Admit it,” James says, stepping in front of him to block his path, walking backward with that mischievous grin. “You like him.”

Remus opens his mouth — to deny it, to argue, to do something — but no words come out.

James’s grin widens. “That’s what I thought.”

Remus finally pushes past him, muttering, “You’re insufferable,” as he hurries toward the Great Hall. But even as he walks away, the image of Sirius’s sleepy smile and the memory of his arm around him last night won’t leave his mind.

And somewhere down the corridor, James calls after him, loud enough for half the hall to hear —
“Tell Pads I said hi, yeah?”

Remus doesn’t turn around, but his ears are bright red.

Remus’s pace quickens as he rounds the corner, trying to shake off the embarrassment clinging to him like static. His heart is still thumping too hard, James’s teasing echoing in his head. You like him. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

And then, because the universe has a cruel sense of humour—

“Moony?”

Remus nearly walks straight into Sirius.

Sirius stands in the middle of the corridor, hair a glorious mess, tie hanging loose around his neck, and that same lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks unfairly good for someone who probably didn’t sleep much either.

“Hey,” Sirius says, his voice soft, lower than usual. “Didn’t think I’d see you up this early.”

Remus freezes, blinking up at him. “I—uh—didn’t sleep much,” he manages, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels.

Sirius chuckles. “Yeah, me neither.” His eyes flicker over Remus’s face, and for a moment, neither of them says anything. It’s quiet — not awkward, just… charged.

Remus swallows hard. Say something normal, his brain begs. “So, um… nice morning, isn’t it?”

Sirius laughs softly, and the sound sends a spark down Remus’s spine. “That’s the best you’ve got? Merlin, Moony, you sound like an old man.”

Remus glares half-heartedly, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t always make me nervous,” he mutters before he can stop himself.

Sirius blinks. The teasing smile falters — not gone, but replaced with something softer. Curious.

“What did you just say?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing,” Remus blurts, cheeks flaming. “Absolutely nothing.”

Sirius steps a little closer. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”

Remus takes a small step back, his heart hammering. “You’re imagining things.”

Sirius grins again — that half-smile that could melt the snow on the Astronomy Tower. “Maybe I am,” he says lightly. “Or maybe you just talk in your sleep, Lupin.”

Remus stares at him. “You—what?”

Sirius smirks. “You fell asleep first last night, remember? I might’ve heard a few things…”

Remus’s face goes crimson. “You’re lying!”

Sirius bursts out laughing, the sound echoing down the corridor. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Remus groans and shoves past him toward the Great Hall, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

But Sirius follows, still laughing — and when Remus finally sits down at the table, Sirius drops into the seat beside him. Close enough that their knees brush.

For a moment, they both freeze. Neither moves away.

And though Remus looks down at his plate, trying to act completely unbothered, the corner of Sirius’s mouth curls into a quiet smile.

Because for once, neither of them feels the need to move apart.

Chapter Text

The next morning, it was Remus who woke first.

The dormitory was washed in a soft golden haze, sunlight filtering gently through the curtains, turning the floating dust motes into tiny specks of glitter. The world outside was still and hushed — the kind of morning that felt half-dream, half-reality.

He blinked sleepily, the warmth of the blanket cocooning him, until he noticed something peculiar.

There was a weight against his shoulder. A solid, warm heaviness.

Remus frowned faintly and tilted his head, expecting perhaps his pillow to have slipped. But instead—

It was Sirius.

Curled up beside him, pressed into his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. His dark hair fell in soft, messy strands across his face, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks. His breathing was steady, deep — the kind that only came with real sleep, the kind he rarely seemed to get.

Remus’s heart nearly stopped.

“Oh, Merlin…” he whispered, voice barely audible, a smile tugging helplessly at his lips. “He’s adorable.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It just slipped out — the words falling into the quiet before he could catch them.

And as if Sirius had somehow heard him, he stirred.

His nose scrunched slightly, a small hum escaping his throat as he shifted closer, head sliding more securely onto Remus’s shoulder. His hand brushed briefly against Remus’s chest before settling again, loose and lazy.

Remus froze.

He could feel the warmth radiating through Sirius’s body, the soft weight of him, the faint rise and fall of his chest. And then — the smell. Lavender. A trace of soap and something distinctly Sirius: wild, fresh, and maddeningly familiar.

Remus’s breath caught. He couldn’t move — didn’t want to move.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see him properly. The light caught on Sirius’s features, illuminating the sharp edges softened by sleep — his jaw relaxed, lips parted slightly, lashes casting faint shadows across his cheeks.

Remus thought he could stare forever.

And that thought terrified him.

He swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way his heart was thudding so loudly it might wake the whole tower.

Then came the tiniest voice beside him — low, raspy, and half-asleep.
“’M not adorable,” Sirius mumbled, eyes still closed, lips curving faintly into a smirk.

Remus’s stomach dropped. “You— you heard that?”

“’Course I did,” Sirius muttered, stretching like a lazy cat before settling back against him. “And for the record, you’re one to talk.”

Remus blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sirius cracked one eye open, the faintest glint of amusement hidden beneath his messy fringe. “You talk in your sleep too, you know.”

Remus’s face went red. “I— I do not.”

Sirius gave a sleepy grin. “You do. You said my name last night. Twice.”

Remus’s entire body went still. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Sirius said, voice low and teasing, though there was something softer beneath it. “Guess you must’ve been dreaming about me.”

Remus turned away quickly, trying to hide his flushed face. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said, yawning. “But you didn’t seem to mind last night.”

There was no good response to that.

Remus sat there for a long moment, staring straight ahead, heart pounding in his chest. Sirius’s teasing usually rolled right off him, but this time it hit differently — maybe because there was truth laced in it. Maybe because he didn’t want to deny it.

He exhaled slowly, finally whispering, “Go back to sleep, Padfoot.”

Sirius’s lips twitched. “Only if you stay right there.”

Remus smiled despite himself. “Fine.”

Sirius shifted just enough to rest his head back where it was before — against Remus’s shoulder, perfectly content. Within moments, his breathing evened out again.

And Remus sat there, utterly still, staring at the sunlight creeping across the floorboards.

He didn’t know what this was becoming. But as Sirius’s hair brushed against his jaw and that faint lavender scent filled the air again, he thought — maybe, just maybe — he didn’t want it to stop.

Remus wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there — still, barely breathing — afraid to disturb Sirius’s peaceful weight against him. The dorm was quiet except for the faint chirping of birds outside and the rhythmic sound of Sirius’s breathing.

Everything felt still. Warm. Almost perfect.

And then—

The door burst open.

“Oi! Wake up, you lazy—”

James froze mid-sentence, his voice cracking into a strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a gasp. Peter nearly ran into him, blinking in confusion.

“Oh bloody hell,” James whispered, eyes going wide. “Remus, mate… are you cuddling Sirius?”

Remus’s entire body went rigid.

Sirius groaned softly, shifting in his sleep, but didn’t wake — just burrowed a little closer, his arm still draped over Remus’s waist.

“It’s— it’s not what it looks like,” Remus stammered, his face heating up so fast he thought he might spontaneously combust.

Peter snorted. “It looks exactly like what it looks like.”

“Shut up,” Remus hissed. “He was— he fell asleep. That’s all.”

“Right, right,” James said, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “He fell asleep… perfectly positioned on your shoulder, arm around your waist, your face bright red—”

“James,” Remus warned.

Peter was nearly doubled over laughing now. “You two look like a couple out of one of those sappy romance novels in the library!”

Remus’s heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear over it. He was torn between shoving them both out the door and diving under the bed to disappear forever.

Finally, Sirius stirred.

He blinked groggily, mumbling something incoherent before his eyes fluttered open — only to find James and Peter hovering nearby with twin expressions of smug amusement.

“What’s—” he started, then paused, realising exactly where he was. His head was still resting on Remus’s shoulder. His arm still around him.

“Oh,” he said.

Remus quickly moved away, nearly toppling off the bed in his haste. “You— you were asleep! You just— you fell over—”

James clapped his hands together like a delighted parent. “Oh, this is brilliant.”

Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell, can we not do this at— what time is it—seven in the morning?”

Peter grinned. “You two looked awfully cozy for seven in the morning.”

Remus rubbed his temples. “Can we please not make this into something it isn’t?”

James crossed his arms, leaning against a bedpost. “Oh, come off it, Moony. You like him.”

Remus froze. “I— what?”

“You heard me.” James’s smirk softened a little. “You like him.”

“I— I don’t—” Remus started, but the words tangled on his tongue. He looked down at his hands, his heart hammering. “Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “He doesn’t feel the same.”

The room went quiet.

Sirius’s sleepy haze vanished instantly. He sat up, properly this time, staring at Remus like he’d just spoken in Parseltongue. “What do you mean I don’t feel the same?”

Remus’s head snapped up. “I—”

Sirius blinked at him, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Remus. You absolute prat.”

James elbowed Peter, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, this is getting good.”

But Sirius wasn’t teasing anymore. His tone had softened, quieter now. “You think I don’t like you?”

Remus’s voice faltered. “Well— you flirt with everyone. It’s what you do.”

“Yeah, I do,” Sirius said. “But I don’t let everyone fall asleep on me. And I definitely don’t let everyone smell like lavender on my pillow.”

Remus blinked, speechless.

Sirius leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only one who gets to touch my hair, remember?”

Remus’s breath caught. “That— that doesn’t mean—”

“Yes, it bloody does,” Sirius interrupted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It means I like you too, you idiot.”

James practically squealed. “I knew it!”

“Shut up, James,” Sirius said without looking away from Remus.

The tension hung thick between them — unspoken but buzzing, warm and uncertain. Remus still couldn’t bring himself to speak. His mind was running miles ahead, but his heart was too full to keep up.

Finally, Sirius chuckled softly. “You really thought I didn’t feel the same?”

Remus gave a helpless half-smile. “Can you blame me?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, shifting closer. “Because I’ve been bloody obvious.”

James coughed loudly. “Alright, lovebirds, save the confessions for later, yeah? Breakfast awaits.”

Remus rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. “You’re unbearable.”

“Yeah, but admit it,” James grinned. “I was right.”

As James and Peter finally left, still laughing and whispering, Sirius glanced at Remus again.

“Guess we’ve been caught,” Sirius murmured.

Remus smiled softly. “Yeah.”

Sirius bumped his shoulder gently against Remus’s. “You okay with that?”

Remus met his gaze, warmth spreading in his chest. “Yeah. I think I am.”

And as they walked down to breakfast together, brushing shoulders and pretending they weren’t both smiling like idiots, the castle corridors somehow felt brighter — like even the sunlight was in on the secret.