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Being eighteen was, in Remus’ humble opinion, a horrible thing to be. And being an eighteen-year-old werewolf was proving to be even worse. The growing pains that accompanied his ever-growing vertical advantage, which had him towering over his friends and getting tangled up in his own limbs, were made worse by the standard trials and tribulations of transforming into a wolf every month. 

The werewolf matter also exacerbated the underlying twinge of anger that characterized his late teens. He was angry that James was the only one of them that could grow a proper beard - when Remus tried at the end of sixth year, he quickly earned the nickname “Patches”, and had not attempted again since. He was angry that Sirius’ perfect porcelain skin was never marred by acne like his own (although the scents that emanated from the bathroom every time Sirius disappeared to get ready for bed told him that the lack of pimples was not entirely natural). And he was angry that Peter had managed to secure himself a nice, normal girlfriend, who he could do nice, normal, heterosexual things with and bring home to his parents.

Remus had realized some time around fourth year that nice, normal, and heterosexual was not ever what his own love life was destined to be. But far be it from him to explain that to his mother, who had taken to asking him at every opportunity if he’d met any “nice young ladies” that he might like to introduce her to. The letter that sat in front of him was a testament to this issue. 

Hope wrote to her son once a month, telling him all about how the garden was doing, what the neighbors were up to, whether she’d heard from his father (he always hoped she hadn’t). Then she would ask him how he was, how his classes were going, and somewhere in the middle, slip in a few thinly-veiled attempts at discerning whether he had a girlfriend yet. 

His reading of the most recent letter was interrupted by the sound of wrestling somewhere to the left of him. He looked up from the desk in their dorm room to watch as Sirius tackled Peter on his bed, making a grab at a piece of parchment Peter held. The smaller boy made a valiant attempt to keep it out of reach, stretching his arm overhead, but James, who had been doing homework in his own bed, was quick to leap up and snatch it away amid the tussle. 

As it turned out, Peter had been passed a note from his nice, normal girlfriend, Elaine , during History of Magic. The dramatic reading that followed was splendid, complete with a falsetto voice and fluttering eyelashes. Peter was left with pink cheeks, and Sirius and James in hysterics. But Remus only managed a tight smile before returning his attention to the task at hand. 

“Moony?” Remus heard behind him. Sirius’ familiar scent of lavender and coffee enveloped him as he came closer. “Not one laugh?”

“Just not in the mood tonight, Pads,” Remus replied, gesturing to the letter in front of him. 

“Letter from Hope?” Sirius asked with a touch of eagerness. He leaned over to peer at it, one hand resting on Remus’ back while the other reached over him to hold the letter at a better angle. Sirius had never met Hope, but he liked hearing about mothers more functional than his own, and the other Marauders were alway happy to indulge him. So Remus leaned back into Sirius’ hand to let him read, letting the ends of Sirius’ long curls brush across his temple as he leaned further in. 

Sirius was one of a few friends that had heard of Hope’s repeated inquisitions into Remus’ love life, but he was the only one, thus far, who knew the full extent of Remus’ stress over it. It had come up in fifth year, during a quiet discussion in the library in between studying for O.W.Ls. 

“She just keeps asking ; I don’t get why it matters so much,” Remus had groaned. “I’m near the top of my classes, and she wants to know whether I’m up anyone’s skirt.”

Sirius had responded flippantly, “You could always just get a girlfriend, if it would get her off your back. I know plenty of girls who’d date you. Matter of fact, I ran into-”

“ No ,” Remus had said sharply, cutting him off. Then, more quietly, “I just don’t - I don’t want a girlfriend.” This had been followed by a meaningful look that he prayed wouldn’t require any further explanation. 

It took Sirius a moment to register his meaning, but something behind his eyes seemed to spark when he caught on. He nodded slowly and leaned in to whisper, “I don’t think… I want a girlfriend either.”

They’d become each other’s secret keepers after that, always quick to deflect suspicion or change the topic when the subject of girls turned to either of them. And now, Sirius was a comforting presence as he listened to Remus explain quietly, out of earshot from their dorm mates, that Hope was now on the warpath about him bringing someone home for Christmas. 

“She’s decided I must be hiding someone from her,” he grumbled. “And I don’t know what I can tell her without her thinking I’m lying.”

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, letting the letter drop back down as he straightened up. “I’ll give it some thought,” he said. “When do you need to respond?”

Remus shrugged. “I should probably send something back by the end of the week.”

Sirius squeezed his shoulder once then let his hand fall, and Remus fought the sudden urge to reach out as Sirius stepped away. He always felt off when Sirius was around him this close to the full moon. A natural consequence of having hyperactive senses and a nice-smelling friend, he supposed. He kept finding himself wanting to pull Sirius back against him, bury his nose in the crook of his neck, slip his hands under his shirt to press against warm skin, and - nope. No. Remus shook his head vigorously. Stupid wolf. 

—

Remus was hit in the side of the head by a particularly pointy paper crane the next day during Transfiguration. He fumbled briefly, dragging it into his lap and unfolding it out of McGonagall’s sight. 

“Found you a girl to tell Hope about,” it read. Then, in smaller, cramped print near the bottom, “It’s not who you think! ” This was accompanied with a small, cartoon dog winking up at him. Remus pressed his lips together and looked back up at Sirius, who shot him an eager thumbs up. 

He cornered Sirius after class, dragging him into an empty alcove as they spilled out into the hallway with the rest of their classmates. “What have you done?” he demanded, rounding on his friend, one hand still gripping the shoulder of his robes as he raised his wand with the other to cast silencing and cloaking spells around them. 

Sirius’ eyes had gone glassy, his mouth hanging open slightly, from the moment Remus had grabbed him. He came back to himself when Remus released his hold, smoothing down his robes and fixing Remus with a smug grin. “Solved your problem, like the veritable genius I am.”

“And what poor girl have you roped into your scheme?”

“No girls, Moony,” Sirius returned coolly. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

Remus sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Go on then, genius.”

With a bright grin, Sirius cleared his throat and said in a hushed tone, “We’re going to invent a girlfriend for you.”

“Have you nicked my copy of Frankenstein?”

“Franken-who?”

“It’s - never mind. How are you planning to invent a girlfriend? What am I meant to bring home in two months?”

Sirius waved a dismissive hand at Remus’ concerns, leaning against the wall opposite. “I’ve got it all figured out. You write Hope back, say you’re in a new relationship with a lovely girl, name forthcoming. You spend the next few letters peppering in details about who she is, what she’s like, etcetera. Closer to the holidays, you’ll drop the absolute bomb that she’s broken up with you, completely unexpectedly. Then you will have had a Very Realistic Girlfriend, and through no fault of your own, lost her before the moment of truth.”

Remus stared at him, open-mouthed. He ran through the plan mentally, picking through it for potential flaws. Finally, “And if she asks for pictures?” Hope was always asking for pictures of his time at school, and Remus was never going to deny her a slice of the magic that surrounded him. When he came home for breaks, he found the ones he sent propped up on the mantelpiece and on shelves and hung on the fridge, the moving captures of the halls of Hogwarts, the grounds, Hogsmeade, his dorm, mixed in with the still Muggle ones of the two of them from his childhood. 

Sirius’ smile grew impossibly wider, and he pulled his wand from his pocket. “I’ve been working on illusion charms. You know, glamours and the like? The girls use them when they don’t feel like putting on makeup, apparently. I’ve refined them.” Remus felt something in the pit of his stomach squirm when he realized what direction Sirius was heading, and the feeling grew sharper as he watched Sirius’ face morph with a twirl of his wand, his features growing softer, subtly reshaping, until he looked like a more distinctly feminine version of himself.

“ You’re going to be my girlfriend?” Remus exclaimed, gaze flicking over Sirius’ new face. He looked alarmingly similar to his cousin Bellatrix, although Remus certainly wouldn’t be voicing that out loud. 

Sirius’ fluttered his new lashes, which Remus noted hadn’t needed to change much, and teased, “In picture only, of course.”

When Remus faltered, Sirius’ expression started to slip into something more hesitant, and his features shifted back to their natural state. Panicked, Remus blurted out, “Pretty! It - you would - they would make pretty pictures. You know. Your face. Your girl face. Um.”

Sirius was still watching Remus silently, expression impossible to read. Remus continued, “Not that your normal face isn’t! Pretty, I mean. Uh-”

“You think I’m pretty, Moons?”

Remus stared helplessly at Sirius, watching the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. “Shut up,” he said weakly. 

Sirius snorted. “Well, I think it’s a fantastic plan, and I think your mother would be overjoyed to get a picture of me in the mail.” He hesitated before adding, “With the girl - girl-me.” 

“Girl-you should probably get a name,” Remus offered. 

“Right you are, Moony,” Sirius said briskly, stepping back out into the hallway, pulling Remus behind him. “To the library!”

—

When James found them, they were surrounded by books on creative writing, mythology, baby names, and in Sirius’ case, an astrology guide. 

“You don’t have anything against star names?” Remus had asked him curiously when he set the massive tome down. 

Sirius hushed him. “This is my own personal form of rebellion. Let me do what I need to do.”

Remus was scribbling down another name from Greek mythology when James rapped on the table, making Remus jump so hard he sent a pot of ink spilling across a stack of empty parchment. He scrambled to clean it up, groaning, as James collapsed into the seat next to him and snatched up the parchment he’d just been writing on. 

“New prank?” He asked eagerly. Remus’ head shot up, eyes meeting Sirius’ equally panicked ones across the table. 

“Oh - uh,” Sirius mumbled, hastily pulling his materials closer to him. “Just a creative endeavor.” 

“A prank related creative endeavor?”

“Nnnnooo…” Sirius said hesitantly, giving Remus a pointed look. 

Remus cleared his throat. “I’m taking up creative writing,” he said easily. “Padfoot is helping me with character development.”

Sirius nodded eagerly, tapping the astrology guide open in front of him. “Getting some good use out of the family traditions. Speaking of which-” He spun the book around to face Remus, jabbing a finger at the open page. 

“Cassiopeia?” Remus looked up at his friend, disbelieving. “You’re joking.”

“You could always shorten it,” James suggested, always eager to join a planning session of any kind. “Peia. Pea. Cass. Cassie.”

“Well we won’t be using Pea , thank you,” Remus said dryly, leaning back in his seat. “But,” He looked across the table at Sirius. “I don’t hate Cassie.”

Sirius pulled the book back towards him, humming thoughtfully. “Cassie is…pretty,” he said, smirking. 

“Right. Well.” Remus shifted uncomfortably, then jumped up from his seat. “Thanks for the help, Pads. Gotta run. Going - have to - I’ll be -” He muttered a few more unintelligible words under his breath as he stared at his feet, sandy brown curls flopping in front of his eyes, then turned on his heel and fled the scene. 

—

“Odd fellow,” James mused, watching his friend as he disappeared into the stacks. Across from him, Sirius simply grunted, glaring down at the piles of books as he gathered them up. James reached out to grab the astrology guide out from under him, flipping it open to the index. 

“What are you looking for?” Sirius asked, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he stacked the books into a tall tower before beginning to scoop up scattered parchment and quills. 

“Just curious,” James replied casually. Too casually. James seemed to forget on a fairly regular basis that one, Sirius knew him better than he knew himself and two, he was a shit liar on the best of days. 

Sirius leaned forward on his hands, cleaning forgotten. “Curious about what? You dropped Astronomy weeks ago. You called it ‘meaningless drivel’.”

“Can’t a man have interests?” James huffed, flicking the book closed. “You seem to have embraced Moony’s new hobby.”

“That’s different,” Sirius retorted. 

James fixed his friend with a pointed look. “How?”

Sirius glared down at the remaining mess on the table, pulling his wand out from behind his ear to clean up the earlier ink spillage. “Because it’s Moony.”

“And Moony is…” James said in a leading tone as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Sirius studiously avoided looking at him; James could read him just as well as he could read James, and although they were regular confidants in one another, some things were simply off the table for discussion. And if James wanted to keep secrets, then so could he. His feelings for Remus were nobody’s business but his. 

“Where are you going with this, Prongs?” he asked with a sigh, tucking his wand back in his pocket and sweeping an arm across the table to pull everything left directly into his bag. 

“Nowhere, apparently,” James replied with a shrug, having apparently gotten the message to drop the matter. Still, his fingers drummed against the table, restless. 

Sirius watched them as he crammed the last of the parchment down to fit in his bag. He could already hear Remus’ chiding, something about ripping and wrinkling perfectly good parchment, but spoken in that lovely melodic voice of his that made it very hard to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. He tugged the bag closed with a small huff. “What are you up to, anyways?” He asked. “You hate the library.”

“Came to find you guys,” James said, a touch too quickly. “You weren’t in the dorm after class.”

Sirius watched his face for a few seconds, but James wasn’t budging, his face as inscrutable as he could manage. “Right, then.” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’m going back now. Coming?”

“Just gonna put this away,” James said, gesturing to the astrology book that still sat in front of him, now closed. 

Sirius shrugged, content to leave the odd behavior alone for the time being. “Alright. See you at dinner?”

James nodded his assent and Sirius gave him a quick salute before spinning around to set the stack of books somewhere to be reshelved and leave.

—

Sirius’ exit was put on hold near the entrance of the library when he was forced to duck behind a shelf to avoid his brother. He hadn’t spoken to Regulus since he’d left home, and although they’d managed to move past the urge to fight every time they laid eyes on one another, they weren’t yet at a point where they could have a civil conversation. He would’ve felt stranger about hiding if he hadn’t seen Regulus disappear into some shrubbery the week before as he was crossing the courtyard. 

He peered around the corner cautiously, watching his brother stalk down the center aisle unaccompanied. Regulus’ robes and tie were in perfect condition, per usual, and he carried himself with the posture of a proud member of the House of Black, his head angled perfectly so that he was perpetually looking down his nose at those around him. Sirius wondered how he kept himself upright given his absolute lack of a spine. 

Once Regulus disappeared further into the depths of the library, Sirius returned to his trek back to the dorms. When he arrived, he found Remus sprawled out in bed, surrounded by parchment, looking adorably rumpled. Fuck, he’s gorgeous , Sirius thought, smiling fondly. Someday, somehow, he vowed silently, he’d find a way to tell Remus that. 

Remus grunted a brief greeting when he spotted Sirius, but otherwise didn’t move from his place. Sirius, naturally, took this as an opportunity to take a running start and cannonball onto Remus’ bed, sending everything flying off and Remus scrambling out of the way.

“Sirius, you dick ,” Remus groaned. Sirius had managed to land directly on Remus’ hand, which he shook out with a wince before leaning off the bed to scoop up stray parchment. Sirius, laughing, let his top half drop off the bed to help him. He read out loud from the first thing he picked up. 

“Attractive features,” he began. He heard Remus shuffling and felt the mattress dip as he settled himself back on the bed. “Eyes, hair, fingers, lips. And nothing else?” He twisted around to look up at his friend, who was clutching a messy stack of parchment to his chest, his legs crossed, watching Sirius with wide eyes. His cheeks were flushed, which Sirius had to assume came from his scramble to pick everything up.

“That’s as far as I got,” Remus said defensively, holding out a hand to take the list from him. 

“Well,” Sirius said with a grunt, pulling himself up to hand the parchment to Remus. “Let’s hear them. Attractive features. Should be based on yours truly.” He batted his eyelashes theatrically, laughing as Remus reddened further. 

Remus looked down at the list with a sigh, reaching for the quill that rested on his bedside table. Sirius settled himself on his stomach, his head resting near Remus’ knee. “Eyes,” Remus began. He glanced down at Sirius, who widened his eyes for Remus’ benefit. Remus swatted at him. “Grey,” he stated, bending down to write. “Blue in the right light…expressive…contrasted by dark lashes…especially bright when he - no, she - is excited…” He continued, voice fading into a mutter. 

Sirius gaped at him as the description grew more detailed, felt his heartbeat stutter in his chest. “You look at my eyes a lot, Moony?”

Remus’ head shot up, his hand freezing mid-word. “I just - well, I see you a lot, don’t I?” He blustered. “And your eyes are…interesting. Much more interesting than mine, anyway. Not much to say about brown eyes.”

“There is too,” Sirius scoffed, affronted on Remus’ behalf. He pushed himself up to his elbows so he could stare directly into his friend’s eyes as he spoke. “They’re warm, like melted chocolate. And when the full moon is closer, they start to look more amber, and they shine like gold in the sun. They’re calming, except when you’re pissed at me, and then they-” He cut off when he heard the door open, tearing himself away from Remus’ stunned expression. 

When James stumbled in, Sirius hopped up to greet him, kicking the few stray pieces of parchment they hadn’t managed to get off the floor under Remus’ bed. “Prongs!” He said, a touch too loudly. “Here you are! Again.”

“Again?” James repeated dazedly.

“Yeah, you - in the library, and now -”

“Right! Right. The library. The place with the books.”

“...Yeah.”

James took a deep breath, dragging a hand through his hair and glancing around the room, still in some sort of haze. “Well,” he said finally. “Dinner?”

—

Remus’ initial letter back to Hope was cursory at best, just enough to tide her over. A throwaway sentence about a girl he’d been seeing, and he made it clear he wasn’t sure they were at the “meet the parents” stage. He knew that wouldn’t dissuade her, but he felt obligated to try and hold her off while he gathered more information.

In the meantime, he filled out his lists. They probably contained more detail than he would ever need, but he figured it was better to have too much rather than not enough. And Sirius was always around, so he had a near constant stream of inspiration; they’d made the decision that Remus was free to use him to fill in details, seeing as they’d be using his face for proof. 

When they were at breakfast, Remus made a mental note to add “laugh” to the list of attractive features. When he loaded up his coffee with cream and sugar, Remus mentally added “coffee, not tea,” to his list of likes and dislikes. When he came to the morning after the full moon to find Sirius pulling a blanket over him and murmuring a quiet warming charm, the words “caring” and “thoughtful” and “kind” filtered their way into his stream of consciousness before his eyes fluttered shut again. 

Some time around Sirius’ birthday, when Remus found himself once again hunched over a list, waxing poetic about Sirius’ eyelashes, it occurred to him that the line between platonic and romantic feelings for Sirius were beginning to blur. There was a difference between the animal that lurked in the back of his mind that wanted to jump the ridiculously attractive, nice-smelling boy he spent most of his time with, and the insatiable urge to hold that same boy’s hand and tell him when he looked especially handsome and bring him gifts and curl up with him under a blanket. 

He needed to talk to someone, he realized. Not a Marauder. A neutral third party who wouldn’t tell a soul. With this in mind, he scrambled for the map and scanned it for a name before folding it up, tucking it in his back pocket, and heading out the door.

“Moony!” James called as he strode through the common room. “Chess?”

Remus paused to look over at where James was sitting on one side of the table that usually held the communal chess board. The chess board itself, and the seat across from him, had been toppled. “Good game?” He asked wryly. He could see Sirius pacing in his peripheral vision. 

“He beat me, Moony!” Sirius cried, pausing his stride. “When have you ever seen James Potter win a game of chess? No patience, that’s what he always says! Can’t stay still longer than it takes to move his first piece. Can’t be bothered to learn. ‘Swot behavior’, that’s what he calls it. And that bastard beat me! I’ve been playing since I was five . Mother made us, and you know if Mother made us-”

“Yes, I know,” Remus said with a sigh, crossing the room to pull Sirius into his arms, “if Walburga made you, perfection was paramount.” As expected, Sirius went limp as soon as he was pulled into Remus’ chest. Remus looked over his shoulder to say, “Good game, Prongs. Have you been practicing?”

James lifted his shoulders in an innocent shrug. “I’ve been trying to expand my horizons,” he replied smoothly. His gaze bounced between Remus and Sirius, who had wrapped his arms around Remus’ middle and burrowed his face in Remus’ shoulder. “What about you, Moony? Expand any horizons recently?”

Remus narrowed his eyes in return and reluctantly pulled back, forcing Sirius to lift his own head up to meet Remus’ eyes. “I’ve got to run to the library,” Remus said gently, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder a final time before stepping away. “I think I left my Runes textbook there earlier. Try again, yeah? He can’t have gotten that good.”

Sirius acquiesced, making his way over to where the chess pieces were still strewn about the floor, wriggling about and demanding to be set right. 

—

As it turned out, even without the map, Regulus Black was an easy person to find. All Remus had to do was follow the sound of yelling, which brought him to a scene that Regulus stood in the middle of, standing between Barty Crouch Jr. sprawled out on the floor, Evan Rosier standing next to him, and a crying Hufflepuff girl that Remus didn’t recognize facing them. Regulus had a hand extended to the crying Hufflepuff, and seemed to be alternating between pleading with her to calm down and hurling insults at her.

Evan stood silently behind his shoulder, arms crossed, chest heaving, looking as put together as someone could with mussed-up hair, a series of hickeys littering his neck, and a half-unbuttoned shirt. Barty was in a similar state, except for the blooming red mark on his cheek that was rapidly taking the shape of a hand. 

Remus cleared his throat and four pairs of eyes fell on him. He’d neglected to bring his Prefect pin, and he wasn’t on duty, but most students recognized him on sight. The girl took a healthy step back, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “It’s awfully late to be so far from your dorm, isn’t it?” Remus said mildly.

“I’m handling it, Lupin,” Regulus hissed, fists clenched at his sides. 

“And you’re doing spectacularly,” Remus replied dryly, gesturing to the scene before him. He jerked his head to the girl, who ducked her head down and sprinted away, brushing Remus’ shoulder as she passed him. He turned to watch her turn a corner before looking back to the remaining Slytherins. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s none of your business,” Barty said with a grunt as he pushed himself to his feet, using Evan’s shoulder to steady himself. “What do you want?”

Remus’ gaze returned to Regulus, who was watching him warily. “Regulus,” he said coolly, “We have an unfinished conversation.” He watched with some satisfaction as recognition hit and the younger boy’s eyes widened. Then he was turning and muttering to his friends, shoving them away in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons. 

The second Evan and Barty were out of earshot, Regulus beckoned for Remus to come closer. “What?”

Remus simply shook his head, not moving from his spot. “Not here.”

Regulus tipped his head back and groaned, glaring at the vaulted ceiling above them. “ Fine ,” he sighed. “Where?”

Remus looked around, pausing when he spotted the door to an empty classroom. The latch didn’t work right, so it was easy to unlock; the Marauders had used it as a hiding spot on many occasions. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and flicked it at the door, casting it open. “There.”

“You first.”

With a heavy eye roll, Remus led the way into the classroom, waiting for Regulus to follow before letting the door fall shut and casting a Muffliato on the room. He turned to find Regulus waiting, one hand clutching his wand. “I take it your unconditional help is becoming conditional?” Regulus said. 

Remus lowered himself into the nearest seat, sitting sideways in it to continue facing Regulus where he stood in the aisle between desks. “I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone about you and James, and I haven’t, because I’m nice like that.” Regulus scoffed. “ But ,” Remus continued, “I’m in a predicament. And it’s something I need to stay…under wraps.”

“Are you suggesting mutually assured destruction?” Regulus asked curiously, the grip on his wand loosening. 

Remus inclined his head. “If you prove yourself to be useful, yes.”

Regulus took a tentative seat at the edge of a desk. “What’s the predicament?”

Remus took a deep breath, laced his fingers together, and said in the calmest voice could manage, “I’m in love with your brother.”

“...What.”

“We don’t have to get into the particulars-”

“I’d rather we didn’t.”

“-But I’m in need of advice and discretion.”

Regulus closed his eyes and took a measured breath, then let them flutter open as he took a seat at the desk across the aisle from where Remus sat. “I find it strange that you’re coming to me at all,” he began, “and I don’t know how much help I can be. My brother and I don’t speak; you of all people should know that. I’m not sure I can speak to how to win him over, nor do I particularly want to. That being said, I do pay attention, and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I don’t believe the feelings to be unrequited.”

Remus blinked, processing the information. “Just to clarify,” he said slowly, “You think Sirius feels the same way?” He wanted to believe that was the case, of course, but surely Sirius would have said something by now. “Why?”

He watched as Regulus, infuriatingly, shrugged and said with a smug smile, “Observation.”

“When are you observing us?” Remus demanded, incredulous. 

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Lupin, but you and your friends make yourselves very difficult to avoid. Simply co-existing in this castle with you four provides ample opportunities for observation. And I know my brother, whether I like it or not.”

When he offered no further follow-up, Remus felt a muscle in his jaw twitch in irritation. “I don’t have time for riddles, Regulus,” he said tiredly. “Please. I don’t want to hold your and James’ relationship over your head, I really don’t, but I will.”

Regulus straightened in his seat, the look of mild amusement fading into something colder. “You wouldn’t.”

Remus lifted a shoulder. “You don’t know for sure that I won’t. But if you stop toying with me, and tell me why you think I have a shot with him, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“Your feelings can’t possibly be so dire that you feel the need to out your best friend and risk ostracizing him from the boy you’re supposedly in love with,” Regulus scoffed.

Remus sucked in a breath, and then he was towering over Regulus, one hand resting on the desk and the other on the back of the chair to cage him in. “Don’t presume to know the depth of my feelings,” he said in a low voice. He watched with a sense of grim satisfaction as Regulus leaned back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. 

“I would tell Sirius because I love him. Because I know the shock would be worth the relief of the people he loves not keeping secrets from him. And don’t give me that look - he’s angry, and hurt, but he loves you. And if you’re willing to help me, to give me the information I need, then I will stay out of it, and do you the kindness of letting you tell him yourself.”

He watched Regulus’ throat bob as he swallowed harshly. Then he said, in a voice that Remus recognized as a manufactured casualness built and perfected in the House of Black, “He makes your tea.”

Remus pulled back, letting his arms fall by his sides. “So?”

“So,” Regulus said, with a bit more confidence, “He doesn’t make James’ tea, or Pettigrew’s. No one else is making tea for each other. But every morning, you sit in the Great Hall, and I watch as he loads up a mug with far too much sugar for you. He could probably do it with his eyes closed.”

“I-” Remus thought about it. Of course Sirius made his tea - he was always too sleepy in the mornings, too accident prone. He’d accidentally spilled scalding hot water on himself one time and ever since, Sirius had done it for him. And now that he was thinking about it, Sirius had never asked him how he takes his tea, but it was always perfect. 

“So he makes my tea,” he said blankly, taking a step back. “That’s what friends who care about each other do.”

“And surely you’ve seen how he looks at you?” Regulus pressed, standing up and lifting his chin to meet Remus’ gaze. “Have you noticed that he always looks to you first when he says something? It’s exhausting to watch, really. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s watching for your reaction.”

“How can you possibly-”

“We’re very well-versed in how to read people, as a matter of necessity,” Regulus said frankly. “I know the signs.” 

Remus winced. “Right. Well. If I were to take that as a positive sign…then what?”

Regulus gave him a withering look. “What did I say about plots to win my brother over? Not my job.” 

“Well-” Remus faltered, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “How did James win you over?”

“There is absolutely no way I’m telling you that.” Regulus turned away with a wave of his hand and headed towards the door of the classroom. “Tell Sirius, don’t tell Sirius. I’m bored.”

“ Regulus ,” Remus growled. He felt a particular kind of anger building, borne of irritation but fed by the underlying fury that sat dormant in him, waiting for a chance to burst out. “If you walk out that door without one good piece of advice, Sirius finding out about you and James will be the least of your worries.”

He heard Regulus snort, one hand resting on the door handle. “You can play the aggressor all you want, Lupin, but it does get old at a certain point,” he drawled, turning over his shoulder to give Remus a once-over. “You’re far too scrawny to do any real damage, even if you are a dirty half-”

With a wave of Remus’ hand, another locking charm was added to the door and Regulus found himself pressed against it with a thump before Remus had reached him, cheek shoved against unforgiving wood.

“The thing about dirty half-breeds,” Remus said casually, leaning against the door so Regulus could see him from his current angle, “Is that people so often underestimate our abilities that they barely think we can turn a light on, let alone exercise any actual power.” 

His wand was still tucked in his pocket, and he made no movement other than to cross his arms, but the gagging and gasping emitting from the younger boy told him that the most recent spell he’d added to his arsenal, a wandless and wordless choking charm, was doing its job. “Do you feel my power yet, Black?”

“ Direct ,” Regulus wheezed. 

Remus cocked his head, and watched as Regulus took in a deep, gasping breath, the charm now released. “What was that?”

“Be direct,” Regulus repeated, attempting to pull away from the door. He was unsuccessful. “My brother has never appreciated the fine art of subtlety. And neither do you, for that matter.”

“Much appreciated,” Remus replied blithely, without bothering to dignify Regulus’ comment with a response. He stepped back, and Regulus stumbled away from the door as he was released. “Why James is dating you, I still can’t understand.”

“What we have is none of your concern,” Regulus said coldly, grasping the door handle once again. This time, it turned easily under his grip. “Good night.”

—

When Remus opened his mail (after joining in the serenade for Sirius’ birthday, of course), he made it two sentences into the latest letter from Hope before he panicked and jabbed Sirius in the side so hard the boy jumped, sending pumpkin juice sloshing onto the table. 

“Shit - shit, sorry!” Remus yelped, fumbling for his wand. The mess was gone with a wave, and in the mix, Sirius caught sight of the letter that Remus clutched in one hand. 

“Answer from Hope?” He asked quietly, ducking his head down to keep the words between them. His breath smelled like coffee and chocolate, and Remus could still smell the hair products he’d used before leaving the dorm earlier that morning. He nodded miserably, and focused on breathing through his mouth. 

“I was right. She wants pictures,” he breathed. “ Sirius , what if this was a bad idea? What if-”

Sirius sat back abruptly, scrambling up from his seat. “Right!” He said loudly. “Well I’m certainly not spending my birthday in lessons. Moony, care to join me?”

“And what about us?” Peter protested, watching as Remus slowly stood to join Sirius. James was quiet, but there was a knowing glint in his eye that Remus didn’t care for. 

“Well,” Sirius said with a thoughtful sigh. “It would be a lovely birthday gift if someone were to take notes for me.”

“And you don’t want that someone to be our designated note-taker, Remus Lupin?” Peter countered, pointing an accusing finger at Remus, who was beginning to squirm under the interrogation. 

“Moony and I have a standing engagement,” Sirius said with a haughty sniff. 

When Peter opened his mouth to launch another protest, James dropped a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to tell Sirius, “We’ll take your notes if we can have the first slices of cake at the party tonight.”

Sirius nodded eagerly, beaming down at James. “Deal.”

Remus let himself be pulled from the table, letter still clutched in hand, and Sirius strode briskly towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Their fingers remained loosely tangled together, and Remus caught sight of Regulus watching them as they moved. When he met his gaze, Regulus gave him a pointed look, eyes flicking down to where his hand was linked with Sirius’. Remus glanced back to make sure Sirius hadn’t noticed before flipping Regulus off as he was whisked out the door. 

“So,” Sirius said as they walked, once they were out of earshot of other students. “What’s the letter say?”

Remus glanced down at it again as he caught up to Sirius so they could walk shoulder to shoulder, reluctantly releasing Sirius’ hand to stretch out the paper. “She managed two whole sentences about my academic achievements before launching an inquisition.” 

He started reading from the letter.  “I’d love to know what she looks like…she’s welcome to come home with you…does she have any favorite dishes…what are her favorite classes…she wants to know more about Cassie than she does about her own son!” He smacked the paper once to punctuate his frustration, looking pitifully at Sirius for some kind of consolation. 

Sirius looked back at him with a fond gaze, and tugged the letter gently out of his hands. “She’s just excited for you, Moons. She’s been asking after this for ages.” He read the letter for himself as they walked, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile. 

Watching him read, it occurred to Remus that their escapade was just as much for Sirius as it was for him. He’d watched Sirius for years, peeking at letters from Hope or Peter’s or James’ parents, not always brave enough to ask outright if he could read them. They’d gotten into the habit of angling the letters towards him while they read to spare him the perceived humiliation of asking. 

Since meeting Euphemia, Sirius was always the first to launch himself into her arms when the train pulled back into King’s Cross, often shoving her biological son out of the way to do so, but James never fought him on it. It always inevitably ended with Walburga calling Sirius’ name sharply from across the platform, making him squeeze Effie a little tighter before pulling away reluctantly. 

As they drew closer to the entrance of Gryffindor Tower, Remus resolved that he would put as much detail as he could into his letter, as much of Sirius as he could manage, for her to gush and fawn over. It was perhaps a poor display of his own love, but it was as brave as he felt he could be for the time being. Regulus’ advice lingered in the back of his mind, but he filed it away, something to be conquered at a later date.

“So,” Sirius said as they climbed the stairs, head angled so he could look at Remus out of the corner of his eye as he walked slightly ahead of him. “Pictures of your new girlfriend in your dorm room might send the wrong message, don’t you think?”

“Fair point.” Remus nudged past Sirius as they walked into their dorm room to dig out his many sheets of notes from where they were kept under several locking charms in a box beneath his bed. He sat back on his heels once they were in hand to look up at Sirius. “Where are you thinking?”

Sirius wasn’t looking at him, instead focused on picking up the camera they’d “borrowed” from Filch’s office from his bedside table and tossing it into his bag. “Astronomy Tower?”

Remus grunted in agreement and lifted a hand to Sirius, a silent plea for help. His knees were perpetually in a pitiful state, his back not much better, and he was having a rare moment of softness that left him willing to admit it. When Sirius noticed his position, he tossed his bag aside to help. Remus listened to the thud of the camera in the bag hitting the floor and prayed that it wasn’t broken beyond repair.

“Up you go, Moons,” Sirius chirped, curling one soft hand around Remus’ elbow to help him up. Remus allowed himself to be pulled upright, but kept his eyes cast down so Sirius couldn’t see his wince of pain as his knees popped out of place on his way up. He looked up once they’d settled back into standing positions, and ignored the popping that ran up the length of his spine as he straightened it. He found Sirius watching him with a look of faint concern, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, brow furrowed. 

“You alright?” Sirius asked quietly, his hand still resting on Remus’ arm. 

“Peachy,” Remus responded dryly, and mindlessly reached a hand up to run a thumb over the bunched up space between Sirius’ brows to smooth it out. He watched Sirius’ brows lift, and he drew back his hand to see Sirius staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted gently. All at once, he realized the position he’d put them in and took a fumbling step away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. 

“Astronomy Tower!” Sirius declared loudly, whipping around and reaching for his bag where it lay abandoned on the floor. Remus cleared his throat, gripped his notes tightly, and followed Sirius hurriedly from the room. 

—

Once they were secured in the peace and quiet of the Astronomy Tower, accompanied only by the light breeze that blew through the room and the sun peeking out from behind hazy clouds to greet them, Sirius pulled out a mirror and his wand. He turned himself away from Remus, who was bent over the bag to unearth the camera, so he didn’t have to think about the way the sunlight hit Remus’ curls, or what Remus’ hands looked like cradling the camera. 

Sirius had started working on glamour and illusion charms for fun - a new way to challenge himself after mastering his Animagus form - but it had taken on a new level of importance when he’d realized he could use it to help Remus, to ease some of the weight he carried on his awkwardly hunched shoulders. His practice went from playing around with the girls in the Common Room, learning increasingly dramatic transformations as a laugh, to begging Lily covertly to get him into the Prefect’s bathroom so they could work in private. 

“What’s this for?” Lily had asked during their last meeting, watching him cycle through various modifications with increasing panic. 

Sirius had set his wand down on the edge of the sink and locked eyes with her through the mirror where she stood behind him. “What d’you suppose a good mum would want a girl her child was bringing home to look like?”

Lily, bless her, didn’t react outwardly to the question. She simply cocked her head, processing the question, before responding thoughtfully, “I suppose it depends. My mother likes her daughters stripped down, dull, no-frills…mute, ideally.” Sirius could feel his heart starting to skip faster, inexplicably, and his hands clenched the edge of the sink. She rushed to continue, “But that’s just her! I think -” She took a few steps closer so she could hook her chin over Sirius’ shoulder and said carefully, “I think a truly good parent just wants whatever’s best for their child. Whatever makes them happy.”

Now, Sirius watched in the mirror as his features shifted - the jaw softened, the cheekbones shifted, the lids drew heavier. When he lengthened his natural hair, he bore a frightening resemblance to his cousin Bellatrix, which necessitated a change. 

First to long, poker straight locks that mirrored Lily’s preferred hairstyle. But then he just looked like Narcissa, hair always carefully styled in a poor attempt to mask the madness within. Then he curled it gently into what Lily had taught him was in the style of a muggle by the name of Farah Fawcett. He watched his reflection blink back at him once, twice, his new features framed by soft waves, then turned to look at Remus, who was fiddling with the camera. 

“Moony,” he called. “Thoughts? Do I make a pretty girl?”

“We’ve been over this, Padfoot,” Remus said absentmindedly, lifting the camera to peer through the viewfinder. “You’re always pretty. I’d- ” He turned the camera on Sirius, who fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly, and Remus froze, his sentence ending abruptly. 

—

The sentence “I’d fuck you in any form” nearly fought its way from Remus’ lips, but it was cut short when Remus caught sight of Sirius in his new “Cassie”-fied form, and the panic of stopping that sentence before it was unleashed into the world, never to be unheard, was overridden by a new level of terror. 

Remus used to think that what he felt for Sirius’ capacity to master and perform magic with ease was just friendly admiration, but since realizing that he was head-over-heels, irrevocably in love with the boy, it occurred to him that the stirring he felt every time Sirius waved his wand (or Merlin help him, his hand) was nothing less than pure lust and adoration. His finger twitched where it hovered over the button, and he lowered his camera hurriedly. “That’s-” he croaked, “that’s really impressive.”

Sirius blinked back at him, his lips twitching into a hesitant grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied softly with an answering smile, pleased with the way Sirius flushed under his praise. “Now,” he hefted the camera back into position, “May I commit this impressive feat to film?”

Sirius thrived in front of a camera, and it was easy enough to capture what they needed - a few posed shots, then a few candids, shifting around the room in an attempt to make it look like they weren’t all taken at once. All were shot from the shoulders up to hide their failure to acquire a girl’s uniform. They went until Remus alerted Sirius that they were out of film, and once Sirius had reverted his features back to their usual state, Remus snuck in one last photo with the actual end of the reel, just for himself. 

Once the photos were collected and stashed away, they made their way back to the dorm by way of the kitchens, where they sweet-talked the elves into loading them up with snacks, on account of it being Sirius’ birthday and all. And once they’d made their triumphant return to Gryffindor Tower, which was thankfully still empty of their fellow Marauders, they came to an unspoken agreement to pile into Remus’ bed and spread out the photos to look them over (Remus kept the last one tucked in his back pocket), with the food heaped precariously on his nightstand. 

Remus alternated between examining the pictures, watching Sirius’ hair caught in the breeze on an infinite loop and admiring how effortlessly he held himself, and watching Sirius sift through the photos. This Sirius wore a furrowed brow and a tight upper lip as he focused on their task, but Remus didn’t miss the way he admired the photos with a certain softness, gaze lingering on a few that he pushed into their own pile.

Remus didn’t think he was an inherently brave person, despite the house he’d been sorted into. It always seemed to take a momentous amount of effort to exercise the courage that James or Sirius made easy use of, their chins held high as they sauntered through life. Even Sirius’ actions in the past few weeks - to change oneself, even temporarily, to help another without a question of whether it would be seen as strange or discomfiting, was so effortlessly courageous. He simply did it because it’s what he felt should be done. Remus didn’t have that kind of bravery, that confidence. 

So as much as Remus felt that it would be the perfect time to brush a loose curl out of the way and capture Sirius’ lips with his own in the quiet of the dorm over a pile of pictures demonstrating Sirius’ devotion to him , he didn’t. It was Sirius’ birthday, after all, and the lingering thread of doubt that Sirius was doing this all in a friendly way, and not at all due to any romantic convictions, stopped him from doing something that may set a dissonant tone for the rest of the day.

They didn’t speak again until the pile had been narrowed down to two photos, the rest set aside with Remus’ notes to be stashed away until needed. Sirius looked up at him with bright eyes and a dazzling grin, and said happily, “I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

—

It was a testament to Remus’ nature that he pulled himself out of bed the next morning with the sun, head pounding from the sheer volume of Firewhiskey that had been consumed the night before, to write a response to his mum. Squinting blearily at his notes, he scratched out a letter to answer her questions, ask after her garden, and insist once again that it might be a bit early in the ‘relationship’ to be bringing anyone home for the holidays. Then he folded up the letter and re-locked the box with the notes and pictures to be shoved back under his bed. 

He knew that Peter would be dead to the world until noon at the earliest, and James was conspicuously absent (Remus looked forwards to hearing his excuse), but he knew that Sirius typically rose just after him, so before leaving, he nudged past Sirius’ curtains to poke at the lump of maroon blankets in the middle of the bed. He heard a snuffling noise a few seconds later, followed by a petulant groan, and then a mass of black curls appeared and bleary eyes were peering up at him. “Whassat?”

“I’m running to the Owlery, Pads,” he whispered. Knowing Sirius, if he woke up and discovered multiple of his dorm mates awake and gone before him on a weekend, he’d throw himself into a panic, and Remus couldn’t bear to leave Peter to handle that.

“...Moony?” The eyes blinked rapidly, and a hand emerged to rub at them. Remus nodded. “Yeh,” Sirius managed after a few seconds. “G’head.”

“‘Kay.”

“Bring back-”

“I’ll bring us back some potions and a full spread.”

He heard Sirius let out a pleased sigh, and didn’t think at all about how lovely it might be to come back and curl up next to him, burrowed beneath the same blanket, in their own private cocoon of warmth. He was just turning to leave when he heard Sirius mumble something from under his comforter. “Sorry?” He asked quietly, looking back.

“Luh you,” Sirius murmured, eyes fluttering shut again. 

Remus’ throat felt tight, and he stood in silence until Sirius’ breathing had evened back out before he whispered, “Love you too,” and dashed from the room. 

Remus spent the walk up to the Owlery mulling over Sirius’ words. What did he mean, he loved him? Like friends? Like brothers, how he loved Prongs? Or could Regulus possibly be right? He didn’t like the thought of admitting the younger Black brother had been right about anything. 

Be direct , Regulus had said. Fuck him. Him and Sirius didn’t do direct. When they did, it tended to end in a screaming match. They operated in grand overtures - Sirius becoming an Animagus and taking notes for Remus after every full moon, Remus acting as a barrier between Sirius and his brother and sitting with him after every scathing letter Walburga sent to lend him an ear and a shoulder to cry on. 

“What does he know?” He grumbled to the owl he was tying the letter to. “Why should I have to say the words for him to know that I mean it?” The owl hooted gently, which wasn’t very helpful, and took off in a flurry of wings. 

It wasn’t until Remus had successfully smuggled a handful of potions from the Hospital Wing and managed to talk the house elves into handing over an array of pastries and packing them up for him that it occurred to him that he didn’t need to say the words. Sitting under his bed, in a Charmed box, were pages and pages of the things that he loved about Sirius Black. He just needed Sirius to read them - then he’d see. 

—

Sirius blinked awake when he heard the door opening and shutting. He had a hazy memory of Remus saying something about leaving and coming back, and he called out a soft, “Moony?” But there was no response, so Sirius shoved himself into a seated position, still half-covered by a mess of blankets, and stuck his head out of his curtains.

He found James standing frozen in the middle of the room, wearing the clothes he’d had on the night before at Sirius’ birthday party before he’d mysteriously disappeared. Sirius had brushed it off at the time, assumed he’d either gotten sick or found someone to spend the night with. But James did not look ill, and he wasn’t looking nearly as smug as he usually did when he pulled. Now that he was starting to wake up, Sirius was realizing that James did in fact look guilty . 

“Prongs?”

“...Hey, Pads.”

“Thought you were Moony.”

“Yeah, got that.”

Sirius watched his friend carefully as he made his way to his bed. “Where’ve you been?” 

James’ shoulders stiffened as he bent down, and from his current angle, Sirius could see lines that looked awfully like scratches running down his back through the thin, gauzy material of his shirt. “Out,” James said eventually, straightening with clean clothes in hand. 

“You have a run-in with Mrs. Norris?” Sirius asked. It was meant to be a joke, but his tone fell flat. Accusatory. Sick of his best friend lying to him. James cocked his head, confused. “Your back’s all scratched up,” Sirius said dryly. 

James flushed, and Sirius felt his jaw tighten. He was tired, his head hurt, the hangover was so bad he was sweaty and freezing at the same time, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed until Moony returned. But James had been acting oddly for weeks - spending more time in the library than he ever had during their time at school, picking up chess like he hadn’t staunchly avoided learning it for years, dropping “fun facts” into conversation that Sirius knew damn well didn’t come from any of his classes – and Sirius was sick of it. 

“Who are you hiding from me, Prongs?”

James’ eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out except a small croaking noise. He shut his mouth, swallowed, and tried again. “I don’t-”

“You can’t lie to me, James.” The use of his actual name was a low blow, but Sirius was going for efficiency, not kindness. “You’ve been off for weeks, and I’m sick of it.”

“And what about you?” James demanded suddenly, lips curling into a deep frown. “What’s the secret project with Moony you’ve got going on? I know it’s not creative writing.”

“And I know you didn’t learn to play chess from a book!” Sirius retorted. “Stop fucking lying!”

“Tell me what’s going on between you and Moony.” 

“That’s not my secret to tell. You’ve got to trust me on that.” Sirius said gravely, shaking his head. He was the only person that Remus was out to, and after utterly betraying Remus’ other secret in their fifth year, an act committed out of pettiness and spite that nearly got a boy killed, he was devoted to keeping this one held close to chest for as long as Remus wanted him to.

“And who’s to say I’m not protecting someone either?” James bit back. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Sirius started, rolling his eyes, unconcerned with whether or not he was being reasonable. “I’d take any one of your secrets to the grave, just-”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Re-Sirius.” The switch between names was hasty, but Sirius wasn’t so out of shape that he missed it. He clambered out of bed so he could stand nose to nose with his best friend. 

“Whose name were you going to say?”

“No one’s.”

“James.”

“Sirius.”

“Peter,” came a grumble from nearby. Their heads swiveled to watch as Peter slowly appeared from behind his bed curtains, looking balefully at them both. 

“Sorry, Wormtail,” James said sheepishly. “Silencing Charm?”

“Nah,” Peter said, in the middle of a yawn. “Won’t help - I already know it’s happening. I’ll just worry. Going to the Common Room. Come get me when you’ve worked yourselves out.” With that, he gathered his comforter around his shoulders, eased his feet into his slippers, and shuffled out. James and Sirius watched Peter go, then turned back to one another, squaring off once again. 

Now that they were closer, Sirius realized he could smell James. His nostrils flared, and all at once, he caught a scent that he hadn’t smelled in two years - not since he was still locked away in Grimmauld Place. 

“Oh, that bastard,” he breathed. James watched him warily as he stepped back, running a hand over his mouth. “That rat fucking bastard,” Sirius said again. “I knew he stole my cologne! And you!” He pointed an accusing finger at James, who was looking increasingly terrified. “My little brother, James? My weak, spineless, prejudiced little brother?”

“He’s not all that bad,” James said weakly. “Once you get to know him.”

“And I can tell you’ve done a fair amount of getting to know him,” Sirius scoffed. “Covered in my cologne. He told me Kreacher broke the bottle, that little shit-” He combed his fingers through his hair, and his mind spun. He had so many questions. How did they get together? How long has it been going on? Did they talk about him? And primarily, what the fuck? 

“I have questions,” he said finally. “And-” He hesitated. It would be a big step, but apparently, a necessary one. “I want to speak to both of you. Together.”

“Done,” James said immediately, his posture relaxing. “You’re not going to kill me?”

“Don’t rule it out,” Sirius replied flippantly. “But unlikely. You’ll tell me what I want to know?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” James said, without hesitation. “I only promised not to tell you who I was seeing. I can’t be blamed for you figuring it out on your own, right?”

“Right.”

They regarded each other for another beat, and then James asked hesitantly, “This doesn’t change anything about you telling me-”

“Nope.” Sirius crossed his arms, shaking his head firmly. “Still not mine to tell.”

James sighed, but nodded in understanding. He was just as well-versed as Sirius was in keeping Remus’ secrets, and Sirius was sure he knew that it would come out when the time was right. But, well, in the interest of transparency - “I’m in love with him,” came flying out of his mouth when James was halfway to the bathroom. 

James turned back, a small smile playing at his lips when he said, “Yeah, I know, Padfoot.”

“D’you think-”

“He’s mad if he thinks he isn’t.” With that, James shut the door to the bathroom, and Sirius collapsed back onto his bed, arms flung over his eyes. What was he supposed to do with that ?

He listened to the shower turn on and tried to sort through what he’d learned. One, James and Regulus were seeing each other. Fucking, if the scratches on James’ back were anything to go by. And actually, Sirius didn’t want to think about his racist little brother and his best friend doing that. That was a dilemma for another day. 

For now, he needed to focus on Remus. Saying the words out loud to James stirred something in him - it felt like a relief, a weight lifted, and an encouragement to say them again to the right person. He and Remus weren’t typically ones to have feelings-based conversations, but he thought these particular feelings might warrant more direct honesty than either of them were accustomed to. He tried to picture himself saying it to Remus - just look him in the eyes, tell him you love him, how hard can it be - and felt vaguely nauseous. 

“Prongs?” He called. 

He heard fumbling, and then the door cracked open just enough for James’ head to pop out. “Yeah?”

“Moony’s on his way back from the Owlery. Shower quickly, would you?”

James grinned, and disappeared back into the bathroom with a cheerful, “Yes, sir!”

Remus burst through the door just after the water shut off, leaning awkwardly with the weight of a basket hanging off one arm. Sirius leapt up from where he’d been lying in bed, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say, to rush across the room and help Remus heft the basket onto his bed. 

After muttering a quick thanks, Remus dropped to his knees next to his bed and shoved his arm underneath it. “I have one more present for you,” he said, looking nervously up at Sirius, who leaned against the edge of the mattress. “For - for your birthday.”

Sirius felt the soppy, lovesick grin that spread across his face, but he was wont to stop it. “Oh, you just can’t get enough of spoiling me, can you, Moons?” 

Remus had, after the photos were sorted the day before, spent the day slipping him small gifts, one at a time in what seemed to be an attempt to cover up exactly how much he’d gotten him. But Sirius kept count; by the end of the night, he’d amassed fourteen presents from Remus alone. 

Now, Sirius watched with growing curiosity as Remus pulled out the box full of his notes on “Cassie”, and he could see now that Remus’ hands were shaking. He frowned, but stayed silent, oddly scared of spooking Remus off if he said the wrong thing. Instead, he waited for Remus to fumble with his wand, mutter a short series of spells, and pull out the sheafs of parchment he’d amassed. Without meeting Sirius’ eyes, he shoved them at him. “Just - read. Please.”

“...Alright,” Sirius said hesitantly, accepting the parchment and sitting further back on bed. His gaze dropped to the top page, the same one he’d grabbed when Remus had first started his lists. “ Hair” started with, “ black, curly, shoulder length .” He looked up to find Remus still on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor. He continued reading to himself. “ Thick, soft, would be lovely to run my fingers through. Smells like fancy shampoo. I can’t smell lavender anymore without thinking of him. When he first comes out of the shower and it’s just barely curling at the ends, it’s almost more distracting than his-”  

Sirius looked up. Remus was gnawing on his bottom lip, his brow furrowed. “Moony,” Sirius said gently, reaching down to tap him on the top of the head. “Look at me?”

Slowly, reluctantly, Remus lifted his gaze to meet Sirius’. “Padfoot-”

“Get up here, please.” He patted the spot next to him and held a hand out, a silent offer for help. Remus took his hand and eased himself up with Sirius’ assistance before swiveling to sit on the very edge of the bed. Sirius waited until he was settled and then looked back down, eyes skipping down to “Lips” . “ Pink, soft-looking, doesn’t even need lip balm ,” it started. “ When he’s focusing, he chews at the corner of them and they plump up. I’d like to bite them myself, make them mine. I’d tell him-”  

Remus’ hand slapped over the top of the page, and Sirius glanced over to find him watching his expression carefully. “It’s not all so. Um. Physical,” Remus muttered. “Picked a bad page to start on.”

Sirius slapped his hand away with a fond smile. “Fine,” he said, handing the pile back. “Pick one. Read it to me.”

Remus was sifting through them when the bathroom door opened, and James sauntered out, freezing when he saw Sirius and Remus sitting on Sirius’ bed.

“Heya,” James said hesitantly. “I was just- I’ll-” He made a vague gesture, then scrambled for his wand and strode towards the door. He paused as he was stepping out to turn back and say, “I’ll tell Peter to not- you can have an hour.”

The two boys on the bed nodded awkwardly, and watched as the door closed on them, leaving them utterly alone. Remus cleared his throat, fiddling with a corner of the sheet of parchment he was favoring. “I don’t-” he said hesitantly. “I’m not the best with words.”

Sirius pried the parchment gently from his hands, leaning over him to set the stack down on the nightstand, noting the small hitch in Remus’ breath as he moved past him. “You don’t have to say it.”

“I should,” Remus replied weakly, his eyes following Sirius as he sat back. “I should be able to.”

“I told James,” Sirius said, hoping his voice sounded much calmer than he felt. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. “That’s why he left in a rush.”

“You told him-”

“That I’m in love with you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Do- are you-”

“Yes. Yeah. In love with you, that is,” Remus said in a rush, turning beet red as he spoke.

“Right,” Sirius said briskly, grabbing the basket of forgotten food from where it sat behind them and dropping it unceremoniously on the floor by their feet. “You said something about wanting to bite, and I’ve wanted-”

Remus launched himself forward before Sirius could say any more, pressing their lips clumsily together. The rush and shock of it made it more a clashing of teeth than a real kiss, but Sirius responded eagerly, shifting to a better angle, only pulling back after a few moments to suck in a breath and shove Remus onto his back. 

Sirius let himself be maneuvered with surprising strength until he was on top of Remus, thighs straddling Remus’ hips. “ Fuck ,” Remus whimpered, tugging Sirius down so he could press their lips together again. He pulled back slightly to whisper, “I think about touching all the fucking time. Can I please-”

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed, sitting up to tug off the t-shirt he’d slept in. He let out a slightly frantic laugh when his arms got stuck, and then Remus was sitting up and pulling it the rest of the way off and there were large, warm hands pressing against Sirius’ chest, wrapping around his waist, unable to decide where to rest. 

Sirius rolled his hips down and grinned triumphantly when Remus let out a choked moan, his own hips jerking up in response. “You sound like a dream, Moons,” Sirius sighed, dipping down to nose at Remus’ jaw as his hands worked the buttons on his cardigan open.

—

Remus wriggled beneath Sirius to get his arms free from his sweater, leaving him in the same ratty old tee he’d slept in for years. It was turning out to be quite small the more he grew, and it had become a struggle to get off. Sirius found this out when his hands dipped beneath the hem to slide it up, and it stopped moving somewhere around his armpits. 

Sirius pulled back with a scowl, and Remus mourned the loss of his lips on the underside of his jaw. “Moony,” Sirius said sternly. “You’re going to need a new shirt.”

“Wh-” Remus couldn’t even formulate the question before a loud ripping sound echoed throughout the room, and he looked down to find the shirt he’d worn to bed for the past six and a half years straight torn cleanly down the front. “Fuck.”

With one less barrier in his way, Sirius shoved Remus back down and traced a path down his torso with lips and tongue and teeth, pausing intermittently to suck a mark into tanned, scarred skin and pulling back to admire his handiwork. Remus was helpless beneath him, resting one hand in Sirius’ sinfully soft hair and straining his neck to watch as Sirius made his way down to the hem of his joggers.  

“Oh, please don’t rip those too,” Remus said weakly, fingers tightening in Sirius’ hair at the thought. When he gripped tight enough to pull, he heard a sharp intake of breath. He pulled again and Sirius went pliant, allowing Remus to tilt his head up. 

It was a gorgeous sight - Sirius’ lips were bitten and bruised, his cheeks flushed, his eyes looking up at Remus from beneath long, thick lashes. He watched, rapt, as the tip of Sirius’ tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “Can I-” Sirius started, thumbing at Remus’ waistband, eyes dropping to stare at his obvious hard-on. Remus gave a jerky nod and Sirius responded eagerly, tugging the joggers down. Remus lifted his hips just long enough to get them down and jerked slightly when his cock sprang free.

Sirius gripped it by the base and ran his tongue up the thick vein on the underside with a satisfied hum, pulling a keening sound from the back of Remus’ throat. But just as he’d wrapped his lips around the head and Remus had pressed his head back into his pillow, Sirius pulled back. Remus glanced down, and found Sirius glaring at his dick like it had presented him with a particularly difficult riddle. 

“Pads?”

Sirius looked up at him, one hand still wrapped loosely around Remus’ cock. “‘M good.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” Sirius replied, a bit petulantly. “I just-” He huffed, looking back down. 

“Padfoot, the longer you stare at it, the more insecure I-”

“Well, how am I meant to fit all that in my mouth?”

Remus couldn’t help the laugh that leapt from his mouth, but it cut quickly into a hiss when Sirius pinched him in the thigh. “Padfoot,” he said with a soft chuckle, “You really don’t-”

“Shush.” 

Sirius Black had never been one to back down from a challenge, and this was no exception. He pressed his lips to the head of Remus’ cock before sliding down as far as they could go. His jaw stretched obscenely, and he pulled back after a few seconds to scrape his hair out of the way. Remus reached down and gathered the ends in his fist, and Sirius murmured a soft thanks before pressing down again. 

It took a few tries, and more than one muttered warning of “ teeth ” but eventually, they found a rhythm, Sirius bobbing his head, eyes closed, face serene, while his hand worked what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Remus lost himself to the sensation of warm, wet pressure around his cock, only vaguely aware of the sounds coming out of his mouth, gasps and moans that echoed in the quiet of the room. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off Sirius, at the tears pricking in the corners of his eyes as he tried to push himself further. With his free hand, Remus brushed a thumb along Sirius’ cheekbone to collect a stray teardrop and without letting himself think too hard about it, brought his thumb to his lips, sucking it clean. It tasted of salt. He looked down to find Sirius watching him, eyes wide. 

Sirius let out a soft whine that reverberated down the length of Remus’ cock, making his hips jerk involuntarily. Sirius gagged at the sudden force, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he pulled back slightly and lifted a hand to press Remus’ hand harder against the back of his head. 

Remus took the hint and pushed Sirius carefully down onto his cock, lifting his hips slightly to meet him halfway. Sirius’ eyes fluttered closed, blissful, and Remus repeated the motion. Soon, the noises Remus was making were interspersed with the wet sounds of Sirius gagging when Remus hit the back of his throat. 

“Sirius,” Remus gasped, when he felt a familiar heat beginning to build in his gut. “Sirius, I’m gonna-”

He tried to pull him back, and Sirius swatted his hands away and pressed his hips into the bed, moving with renewed vigor as Remus panted, hands fumbling for something to hold onto. His hips twitched, and he tried desperately not to fuck up into the heat of Sirius’ mouth, intent on letting him set the pace. “Merlin, fuck , Pads,” he whined. “Can I- I need to-”

All at once, Sirius pulled off with a gasp, and then his hand was working over Remus’ cock at a frantic pace. There was drool running down his chin. His mouth hung open, chest heaving. “On me,” he pleaded, eyes fixed on Remus. “Please.” He opened his mouth further, letting the tip of his tongue stick out, and that was enough to send Remus over the edge, coming with a desperate cry. He fought to keep his eyes so he could watch Sirius’ face and tongue be painted in streaks of white. 

Sirius worked him through it, slowing his hand as Remus melted into the bed, hips jerking feebly with aftershocks. Remus watched dazedly as Sirius’ tongue stretched out as far as he could manage to lick Remus’ release off his face, and then Sirius was scrambling back up the length of Remus’ body, burrowing his face in the crook of Remus’ neck and rutting against his hip. 

“Let me,” Remus mumbled, hands fumbling for Sirius’ sleep pants, pressing kisses to the side of his head. Sirius lifted his hips just enough for Remus to dip his hand inside. 

He dragged a dry hand over Sirius once, eliciting a small whine, and withdrew it to spit once, twice in his palm before gripping Sirius again. It only took a few strokes, Sirius gasping into his shoulder and clutching him tight, nails digging into his arms, before Sirius came with a groan.

Sirius angled his head up to kiss Remus again as their breathing evened back out - slow, lazy, fond. But it was only a minute or so of trading kisses before Sirius pulled away with a wince. “I feel sticky.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Remus said with a snort. He nudged Sirius to the side and rolled to where his wand lay on the bedside table, underneath the pile of notes. In a well-practiced move, he cast a quick cleaning charm on his hand, then turned it on Sirius, who now sprawled next to him. 

Sirius watched him silently, and once Remus had set his wand down and settled on his back, he said cheerfully, “We should do this every day.”

“I’m yours as long as you’ll have me,” Remus replied, turning his head to grin at Sirius. Sirius’ answering smile was everything.

—

Remus awoke a week later to Sirius poking him in the ribs. “Mwrkgjf,” he muttered into Sirius’ chest. Sirius jostled him again. 

“Moony, I thought of something important.”

Remus lifted his head and blinked sleepily at his boyfriend. “And it couldn’t wait, because…”

“Did you ever send Hope any pictures with me in them?”

It took Remus a few moments to catch up, but once he did, his eyes widened slightly. “I’m not sure,” he whispered.

“Does she, by any chance, think I have any female relatives that I’m not mortal enemies with?”

“...No.”

Sirius sighed, lolling his head to the side to watch as Remus wormed his way up from where his head lay on Sirius’ chest, bringing them face to face. “So not my best plan?”

“New plan,” Remus suggested, drumming his fingers on the pillow between them.

Sirius flopped fully onto his side and reached up to lace their fingers together. “Go on.”

“Do you want to come home with me for Christmas?”

“Oh, of course I do, Moons. Will you tell Hope?”

“...Something tells me she already knows.”