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Sirius Black is the worst thing that has ever happened to Remus Lupin. Specifically, sixth year Sirius Black is the worst thing that has ever happened to Remus Lupin. With his broad shoulders, new leather boots, long hair that now reaches his collarbone —that damn collarbone— and that Sirius Black grin that now reaches his eyes —a development that came from breaking away from the chains of Grimmauld Place— Remus is done for. Absolutely done for.
***
Fourth year is when Remus realized his feelings for his best friend were different from the love he held for his other friends. The summer between third and fourth year both Remus and Sirius had grown. Big enough to fill out their robes. Big enough that when they sat together on the Hogwarts express their shoulders pressed together. Big enough that when they sat across from each other at the Great Hall their ankles would brush under the table causing Remus to jolt. Big enough that when Remus woke up breathing haggard from a nightmare and Sirius slipped into his bed to calm him down —as they’ve always done for each other— Sirius’s hip bone dug into his side. Big enough that there was no escaping touch in that small bed. And suddenly Remus couldn’t think about anything but the press of Sirius' hip bone and the sound of Sirius breathing only a few inches away from him. And suddenly Remus couldn’t sleep. And suddenly all of his thoughts were of Sirius Black.
But he had it under control. When Remus' heart would skip a beat upon Sirius’ eyes meeting his across the Gryffindor common room and when Remus’ head grew dizzy in response to Sirius wrapping his fingers around Remus’ wrist and tugging him to the Great Hall for breakfast, Remus would bury the worrying feelings down. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on it. Not one single thought. Because it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense that looking at Sirius made him feel like he was dying. Like some ridiculous Shakespearean tragedy. Sirius was his best friend. It didn’t make sense.
In fifth year Sirius discovered girls. This was both wonderful, in a convenient sort of way, and absolutely fucking horrible. Convenient because Sirius was now far less likely to notice the heat that traitorously ran up Remus’s neck and the uneven pulse that thrummed through his veins under Sirius’ attention. But absolutely fucking horrible because Sirius discovered girls and Remus discovered longing and the white hot pang of jealousy.
The last quidditch game of fifth year was Gryffindor v. Slytherin. It was also the longest game of the year. Whoever won, would take home the quidditch cup. After almost four hours, Isaac MacClellan finally caught the snitch resulting in a win for Gryffindor. In ecstasy, Sirius had hugged him, squeezing so tight that long after he had let go, Remus could feel the indentation of Sirius’ warmth around his waist, on his lower back.
There had been a party that night in the Gryffindor common room to celebrate the win. (Not that James Potter needed an excuse to throw a party.) Half way through the night found Remus slumped on the couch, a cup of firewhiskey in hand. Remus’ eyes had found Sirius as they so often did. Like a moth to a flame.
Sirius had been leaning against the wall, legs crossed lazily, as he laughed around the neck of a bottle of Guinness at something the raven haired girl in front of him had said. Emmeline Vance. Long black hair, rosy cheeks, a cotton white shift dress. She’s pretty, Remus had thought bitterly. And then Emmeline leaned forward, grabbed the bottle out of Sirius’ hand, ran a hand through Sirius’ curls, and tilted her head up so that their lips met. Remus instantly sat up straight, he tasted the iron tang of blood from where he had bitten the inside of his cheek, but he didn’t dare look away. And then Sirius’ eyes were open as his lips slid over Emmeline’s. And his eyes were on Remus.
And this —whatever this was— was dangerous.
When Sirius pulled away he took back his bottle of Guinness and shook it, as if to indicate its emptiness. He excused himself and started walking away— not towards the cooler in the middle of the room, but towards the portrait hole.
Remus watched him as he crawled through the exit, waited a few seconds, and then followed. He followed Sirius through the winding hallways, up a flight of stairs, up the astronomy tower. Not once had Sirius turned back to acknowledge him.
When Remus pushed open the door to the top of the astronomy tower he was met with a cold rush of air that contrasted the heat in his cheeks. Looking around, he found Sirius leaning against the side of the turret, a cigarette lit between his teeth. Remus ducked his head and made his way over.
“Those things will kill you, you know,” he said. He took the cigarette from Sirius’ lips and placed it between his own instead. His lips touched where Sirius’ had. He saw the parallel between himself and Sirius and between Emmeline and Sirius; pulling the bottle away from his mouth, tugging him down, lips meeting. If asked, he would’ve blamed his red cheeks on the icy night air.
Sirius turned so his whole body faced Remus. His lips twitched in amusement. “Hmm, will they now?”
“Yeah,” Remus stammered dumbly.
Sirius’ presence was vast, all-encompassing. When Sirius entered a room, Remus’ eyes instantly found him. He was aware of Sirius’ every movement. At night, Remus was aware of every breath Sirius took from the bed next to him, of the rustle of sheets as Sirius turned in his sleep. Like an ocean that surrounded Remus on all sides. He’d been treading water for so long his limbs were going numb. Eventually he would drown. This —whatever this was— was dangerous. Sirius was dangerous.
“Remus?”
“Hmm?”
“Where’d you go?”
“What?”
“Just now,” Sirius said, taking back the cigarette and taking a drag. Remus stared at his mouth, not even realizing he was doing it until Sirius spoke again. “You’re always slipping away. I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind.” Remus quickly looked away, towards the Scottish hills surrounding the castle, anywhere but at Sirius. “Legilimency is a hard skill to learn, you know,” Sirius said attempting badinage.
“Nothing is on my mind,” Remus said more to the hills and the night air than to Sirius himself.
Sirius snorted. “Remus, you’re the most neurotic person I’ve ever met. I’m sure there's just about a million thoughts rattling around that head of yours at all times.”
Remus shoved Sirius’ shoulder. “Shut up,” he muttered, a small smile on his lips.
Remus cleared his throat. “Why’d you come up here?”
“Dunno,” Sirius answered, “I guess I just… needed to get away,” Sirius glanced over at Remus, “Why did you?”
“Same, I suppose.”
Sirius nodded. He didn’t point out that Remus had followed him up there and, for that, Remus was grateful.
The silence grew thick around them. Sirius was right. There were about a million thoughts rattling around his head, but he had no intention of letting any of them be voiced. But one escaped, seemingly out of his control. “So, you and Emmeline?”
Sirius groaned. “We did not come up here to talk about girls .”
“No?” Remus' heart skipped a beat at the brief acknowledgment that they had come up here together. They had both denied it earlier, but neither one of them were that stupid.
“No, Remus. More toke, less talk,” he said, holding out the cigarette, offering it to Remus.
Remus took it. Drawled.
“Unless, of course,” Sirius murmured like a hand reaching out in the dark, “you want to tell me what you were thinking earlier.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Remus said, voice clipped, batting away the hand.
Sirius gave him a look . “You can tell me.”
Remus turned his head away in frustration.
“Hey, no, I’m sorry,” Sirius rushed forward to grab Remus and pull him back. They both stared down at their clasped hands, Sirius' thumb rubbing circles on the back of Remus’ palm before letting go.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sirius said, looking away at the Scottish hills, “We don’t have to talk.”
The next morning they were on the Hogwarts express, heading home.
The summer went by slowly. Remus couldn’t stop thinking about Sirius kissing Emmeline. His eyes on his. Sirius holding his hand. I’m glad you’re here.
The lack of letters from Sirius was almost a relief. But then, two weeks before the start of term, Sirius sent him a letter telling him that he had left Grimmauld Place and was now living with the Potters. And Remus felt horrible, because here he was worrying about having to face his best friend come September 1st, while Sirius had been going through absolute hell.
For the rest of the summer Sirius had sent him lots of letters. All starting with My Moony, and signed Yours, Padfoot and Remus’ thumb would rub against the words but otherwise he had elected not to think much of it because otherwise everything was perfectly normal. They fell into easy banter and they never once mentioned Gryffindor parties or girls or kissing or the astronomy tower. And Remus had been sure that come September 1st everything would go back to normal; Sirius would continue to make him feel drowsy and dazed, but not so much so that Remus wouldn’t be able to bury it down like he always had.
He was wrong.
***
Usually when Sirius arrives on platform 9 ¾ his hair is cut short, combed neatly, his clothes pressed dried, shirt neatly tucked in; all under the draconian hand of Walburga Black. But this year Sirius shows up with curly, unruly hair that reaches his shoulders, big black leather boots, a leather jacket to match, and a smile to rival the sun. Remus is blinded by him. And everything Remus had been trying to suppress all summer goes down the drain. All of his thoughts are of Gryffindor parties and kissing and the astronomy tower.
As Sirius gets closer, Remus notices that he must have grown muscles between his shoulder blades over summer because his shirt is tighter across his chest. The top buttons of which are undone, exposing his collarbone and Merlin, Remus wants to lick it. And Merlin, what a horrible thought.
Sirius throws an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Hiya, Moony!” Remus gives him a lopsided smile that feels weird and wrong and forged and Sirius gives him a funny look before letting him go and jogging over to greet Peter.
“Alright, Moony?” James asks, setting down his trunk on the platform, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Of course,” Remus replies, not meeting his eyes.
On the train, Sirius slides into the seat next to him and Remus scrambles closer to the window feeling like he’s been burned where Sirius’ thigh had brushed his. From the corner of his eye, he can see Sirius narrowing his eyes at him, but soon enough it’s all forgotten and he and James are arguing over Quidditch teams. And Remus rests his head on the cool windowpane and tries, once again, to clear his thoughts of Gryffindor parties and kissing and the astronomy tower and now also of collarbones and body heat.
When the train arrives at Hogwarts, Remus extracts himself from his friends, claiming he needs to find Lily to discuss prefect duties, which isn’t a complete lie. When he finds Lily, he asks if she can cover for him at the prefect meeting Dumbledore is holding tonight, claiming he has a headache and needs to lie down, which isn’t a complete lie. His head is a right mess.
While the rest of the students head to the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony and the welcoming feast, Remus trudges up to his dorm. He eats the chocolate bar he had stashed into his luggage earlier and then curls up onto his bed. This is ridiculous , he thinks. He can not spend the rest of the term skipping meals over Sirius’ exposed collarbone.
When his friends enter the dorm, Remus closes his eyes tight and feigns sleep. He hears footsteps approaching his bed. He recognizes them as Sirius’. (Since when could he recognize Sirius’ footsteps?) He hears Sirius set something down on his bedside table. He waits until he hears the deep breathing of Sirius in the bed next to him, indicating the boy has fallen asleep, before he opens his eyes and finds a biscuit, a couple slices of roast beef, and a cookie all neatly wrapped in a napkin.
In the morning, when Sirius wraps his fingers around Remus’ wrist and tugs him to the Great Hall for breakfast, Remus lets him. Because avoiding Sirius was an impossible plan —for more reasons than one— and because Sirius is his best friend and he brought him back food for dinner because he was thinking about him and was worried about him and meanwhile Remus had been trying to forget about Sirius and now Remus feels guilty. So he lets Sirius tug him to breakfast, but he avoids eye contact. Which is difficult because Sirius is sitting right across from him so Remus mainly just stares at his plate and moves his eggs around with his fork.
“Want some bacon, Moony?” James asks, offering the platter to him.
Remus looks up and shakes his head. His eyes catch Sirius, who is pulling up his hair into a bun at the top of his head. Remus’ eyes travel over Sirius’ collarbone and up his exposed neck and Merlin. He looks back down at his eggs.
Across the table from him, Sirius stretches, his ankle brushing the bottom of Remus’ leg. Remus jumps up from the table, nearly toppling his cup of tea in his wake. Sirius looks up at him, eyes wide.
“I gotta go,” Remus croaks.
“Huh?” Peter asks around a mouthful of food.
“I’m going to start heading to Transfiguration.”
“There’s still thirty minutes left before classes start,” James says, staring down at Remus’ untouched plate.
“Yeah, well, first day and all,” Remus says.
“Can I have your biscuit then?” Peter asks, staring down at Remus’ untouched plate.
“Yeah, go for it, Pete.”
Sirius sets down his fork and stands up. “I’ll walk you.”
“Thanks, but I can find it myself.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “I have Charms. Transfiguration is on the way.”
“Actually I have to stop by the library first. So really, it’s okay. See you later.” Remus turns on his heel and rushes out of the Great Hall. He senses Sirius trailing him, but he doesn’t slow his pace and he doesn’t turn around.
“Remus,” Sirius calls after him. Remus keeps walking.
“ Remus. ” Sirius reaches forward grabbing Remus’ wrist and twirling him around. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“What?” Remus splutters.
Sirius’ lips thin. “Cut that out, Remus.”
“I’m not avoiding you. Christ, we’ve only been back for a day. I had a headache last night.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Just drop it, Sirius.”
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“No. No I can’t, because I don’t even know what’s wrong,” Remus fingers are in his own curls, pulling helplessly, “All I know is I want—” Remus shuts his mouth in a panic. Gulps. Dry mouth. Palpitations. Sweaty palms.
Sirius tilts his head. “What? What do you want?” Gray eyes. Collarbones. Body heat.
“Nothing,” Remus' eyes shift to Sirius’ lips and then quickly back to smoky eyes, “it doesn’t matter.”
“Remus,” Sirius drawls, exasperated. He steps forward and Remus steps back colliding into the wall behind him. Sirius is smirking up at him. And fuck Remus is staring at his lips again.
He looks away quickly. Down at their shoes, because that’s safe territory. He watches Sirius’ boot brush his as Sirius takes another step forward. Hot skin on his neck. They’re so close. Sirius curls a finger through Remus’ belt loop and gently tugs. Remus tentatively chances a glance up. Gray eyes burn into him so intense that Remus dry swallows, gasping for air.
“Remus, what do you want?” Remus shakes his head so minutely he’s not sure he even moved at all. Sirius pulls on his belt loop again causing Remus to stumble. Sirius catches him, pulling him upright. Heat on Remus’ forearm where Sirius’ skin touches his. Heat spreading up his neck. In his face. The tips of his ears.
“You’re a prick,” he tells Sirius. Sirius’ eyebrows shoot up. His lips twitch into a grin. That damn Sirius Black grin. He leans forward. “Tell me what you want, Remus.”
“No.”
“Fine,” Sirius fingers grasp Remus’ tie and pulls it down so that their faces are inches apart, “then show me,” he whispers.
They’re so close. Sirius’ warm breath is on his face. And burying down all his thoughts is hard, maybe even impossible, but leaning forward into this liminal space they’re occupying —that they have been occupying for a long time now— is easy, maybe even the easiest thing in the world. And so he does. And their lips are on each other. And Sirius lets out a noise of surprise like he didn’t really think Remus had it in him. And Remus bites down on Sirius’ lip as if to make sure this is real. Pinch me. And Sirius responds eagerly, hands gripping Remus’ sides, steadying him.
Remus is used to having just about a million thoughts rattling around his head at all times. But now it’s just one. Sirius, Sirius, Sirius. Over and over again. Like a prayer. Like an oath.
Sirius pulls away. His lips red and raw and swollen and— smirking. “Now, was that so hard, Remus?”
“Prick,” Remus says, turning them and pinning Sirius against the wall.
Sirius smiles up at him. “For how long?”
“Huh?” Remus says, staring at his lips unabashedly. Sirius, Sirius, Sirius.
“Since the Gryffindor party? Top of the astronomy tower?”
“No. Merlin, no. Longer. Fourth year.”
“Third year,” Sirius says, pointing to himself with a pompous, victorious grin that Remus wants to wipe off. Kiss off .
“Christ, it’s not a competition.”
“Lucky for y—” Remus leans in and catches Sirius’ lips. Shuts him up. Sirius is quick to deepen it.
When they pull away they’re both out of breath. Remus ducks his head to rest on Sirius’ shoulder as he gasps for air.
“You know,” Sirius says, voice hoarse, and Remus smiles with the knowledge that he did that, “you can’t just kiss me now whenever you want to shut me up.”
Remus pulls back. He tucks a strand of hair that had escaped Sirius’ top knot behind his ear. He lets his hand wander down Sirius’ porcelain neck, down to his collarbone. Sirius shivers. “Watch me,” Remus says.
“I mean, not that I’m opposed t—” And Remus leans forward to kiss him again.