Moon watching
Sirius doesn’t like Remus. He doesn’t.
No matter how much James points out him looking at the other boy during meals, he doesn’t like Remus.
He’s sure Remus doesn’t like him, either.
Therefore, they cannot be friends.
No matter if his hair is curly but unruly since he doesn’t take care of it, which Sirius could probably help him with doing if they were friends, if they tolerated each other, and it doesn’t matter if he’s tall and freckled and soft nor if his laughter lights up the whole room. Sirius doesn’t care.
Actually, the reason he’s paying so much attention to it must be because he is so infuriated with it all. Must be.
It really does make sense because James had stopped liking their roommate the day before, too, since Remus had been on a date with Evans. And, with James not liking him, comes Peter not liking him. So none of them like Remus and that’s why it makes sense that Sirius doesn’t, either. It makes sense, that he feels so very obsessively infuriated and perhaps a bit intrigued with the other boy.
So, he will do what he does best as a punishment.
A prank.
Now, does Sirius know what, exactly, he will do as said prank?
No. He doesn’t.
But he’s sure, once he’s broken into the blokes’ dancing hall, he will be hit with a glorious idea. And he will fuck something up or do something and it will prank Remus when he’s in class tomorrow. There.
(He wonders if Remus would laugh, at that sort of thing. He wonders if he can pull off a prank as cruel but also as good to make Remus laugh and then talk to Sirius. Remus seems like the sort of person others, elders mostly, would call ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, but would secretly be pretty badass. Perhaps, he’d call his friends those things. Perhaps he’d call Sirius those kinds of things if they were friends.
No. Thats stupid. Shut up)
Sirius walks over to the blokes’ dressing room with quick steps. He’d nicked the key from Regulus before that day, although he’d give it back.
…soon enough.
He unlocks the door, to find…
Well, he doesn’t find any extravagant, wonderful, idea, to his disappointment. Although he does find that there is… music?
There is both sound and light coming from the dancing hall.
Now, this should be enough to make Sirius turn around. But he’s never been too good at doing what he should.
So, he walks up to the door, pushes it open ever so slightly.
To see…
Remus?
He is moving to the music in a slow manner, although lively, that makes Sirius feel all happy and calm, and also confused, because how does he do that?
Now, Sirius has seen his brother dance. Dance for their parents approval, for himself, sometimes, even.
Remus, with his eyes closed, right now in the dancing hall, doesn’t seem to dance for anyone.
Not for himself, but simply because he has to dance. Like anyone else would need to eat or breathe. Like he’d die if he didn’t dance, like he’d die if he didn’t make Sirius feel like this.
Like he doesn’t wish to take up any space, really. Like he’s just there to make the world a bit better from a distance, locked up like this, by making everyone feel just a fraction of what he has to feel to survive while he dances.
Like the moon, Sirius’ mind helpfully supplies.
Not like the sun; shining, always seen, during the day. Like the leading role of a play, like the performing grace of his brother. The sun is way too grand, way too attention seeking, for Remus.
Like the moon; shining, but always when people sleep, being taken for granted. But oh, what would the sky be without the moon? What would the stage be like without Remus, despite the fact that Sirius had never seen Remus perform? What would the dance hall be like without Remus? Like a background dancer at a concert, although never seen completely oh so necessary. Like Remus could dance in darkness, and there’d still be light, like he could dance without music, and there’d still be sound, even though no one would be looking at him, simply because that’s what his dancing looks like. Like a mood, a concept, perhaps. Like the audience would simply be lucky to be in the same room as Remus when he dances. Like it’s a pure coincidence Sirius is standing here, looking at Remus, although it certainly feels intentional. Every move, every step, every second of music echoing through the hall.
Suddenly, Remus looses his magical grace, when he does a lazy pirouette, laughing at himself quietly, like he’s gotten tired. It looks lovely, endearing, even. Sirius finds himself under som new, strange, spell, and his face heats up for reasons that are very unknown.
Remus stretches, right before he’s going to start dancing again, glue Sirius to the floor again. Sirius turns around, leaving the dressing room where he’s been standing, peeking in, to go back to the dorm as quickly as possible, trying to avoid said mysterious spell.
Stupid, stupid, Remus, who Sirius doesn’t like at all, because he’s dating Lily, and because he can dance like the world doesn’t matter, and who hides his face when he laughs, and who turns the corners of his mouth down when he smiles, and who looks warm and soft and mesmerising unintentionally.
When Sirius gets back to the dorm, both Peter and James are asleep. He quietly crawls into his own bed. Remus comes back about twenty minutes after Sirius had, and while he is in the shower, Sirius replays the scene of Remus dancing again, again, again, again.
(He doesn’t sleep a wink.)