Chapter Text
Remus Lupin was dead. Bone-crushingly, gut-wrenchingly dead.
Well, not literally. It was more of a figurative death. The kind of death that came on after a two-hour History of Magic exam and the close passing of a full moon.
Remus had been at Hogwarts for nearly four years, and yet he would never quite get used to how time passed there. His exam had surely taken days, although he was sure that he had hardly been at school for a week when in fact his winter break was fast approaching. The strangeness of time at Hogwarts was broken only by the steady sureness that came with each full moon. Every month, without fail, the moon would rise high in the dark sky, a glowing orb of fatality that sat, plump and round amongst the clouds for the sole purpose of tearing its victim to shreds. Remus, cursed by the wicked bite that scarred the soft skin of his right shoulder, was stripped of his consciousness and reason and transformed into a beast that had no mind for friends or foes.
Now, on this bright December day, Remus Lupin lay sprawled on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor common room. The rug itched against his cheek and his breath blew back hot into his face, reflected by the pillow that lay beside him. He was basking briefly in the warmth of the fire and a momentary reprieve of the work that was bombarding him in preparation for the upcoming vacation. His peace was shattered almost immediately as footsteps, followed by loud, jolly voices, made their way through the portrait that acted as a passage between Gryffindor tower and the wide, echoing halls of Hogwarts.
“Come off it, James, it’s not like I’d really curse you. Though I’m tempted when I see you getting all soppy over Evans- Oi, Moony, what are you on the floor for?”
Remus scrambled upwards as the delicate, grinning face of Sirius Black loomed over him.
“I’m tired, you prick. Leave me be,” Remus said angrily. He fought furiously to keep his face from going red as he turned from Sirius. He hated how flustered one stupid smile could make him these days.
“No, no, don’t let me disturb you,” Sirius joked, lowering himself to the rug with ease and tugging at Remus’s sweater before stretching his arms behind his own head and lying back, sighing contentedly. “It’s not bad down here. Maybe you’re onto something, Moony.”
Remus reluctantly fell back to the floor, crossing his arms over his stomach and looking up at the domed ceiling. His cheek was inches from Sirius’s and he rolled quickly to his side so that he was facing away from his friend’s smirk.
“Idiots,” James laughed, and threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Let’s go, Pete, before we step on these two.” They made their way upstairs to the boys’ dorm, chuckling and groaning over the promise of homework.
“So,” Sirius began conversationally, seemingly oblivious to Remus’s state. “How’d you do on that history test?” Remus had begun a muffled, half-hearted reply when Sirius gently grabbed his head with his long, pale fingers and turned it softly so that Remus was facing him. “That’s better. Continue.” That silly smirk was back.
“You goof,” Remus muttered, keeping his eyes away from Sirius’s. He didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid if he looked into those slate eyes too long. Sirius’s eyes were magical- the pure, clear grey of a rainy sky, webbed with dark streaks that bled into his iris like cat whiskers. They were magical, yes, and they made Remus do stupid things.
“Well?” Sirius spoke, startling Remus. He’d forgotten to answer, and a welcomed silence had pressed in.
“Oh. I did fine, I suppose. Definitely got that question on goblin welfare wrong, though.”
“Mm, me too. Dinner?”
“What about it?” Remus asked. Conversation came so easily to Sirius, a flood of words and laughter. It was surprising how much one person could have to say. How every word could somehow be meaningless and yet matter so deeply.
“Are we going to have it? Dinner?” Sirius said, impatient as always.
“Oh. I suppose,” Remus nodded slightly, fully aware of how very close Sirius’s forehead was to his own. He didn’t want to get up, to go back to the real world where Sirius belonged to James and Peter and everyone else. Remus was so tired of sharing.
But Sirius just laughed his laugh and grinned his grin and stood, oh so elegantly, up, reaching out his hand to pull up Remus, who grasped his fingers and stood. For a moment so brief that Remus might have imagined it, Sirius held his hand there, cupping Remus’s in his own. His thumb brushed Remus’s scarred knuckles, and Remus shivered. A single second later Sirius moved his hand, brushed a strand of crow’s-wing hair from his face, and smiled brightly, slipping through the passageway without a word, and leaving Remus wholly, completely, alone.