Friction
It was a quiet Saturday in the Gryffindor common room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the low murmur of conversation from various students filled the space. Sirius was sprawled out on one the couches, pretending to study for the upcoming Potions exam, but his mind kept wandering. It wasn't the exam that had his attention, but rather Remus, who was sitting across from him, casually flipping through one of his books
Sirius watched him for a while, his gaze drifting over the familiar sight across the crocked scar running through his cheek and down the bridge of his nose. It was all familiarSirius watched him for a while, his gaze drifting over the familiar sight—the way Remus always furrowed his brow in concentration, the quiet flick of his fingers as he turned each page, the way his lips barely parted in a soft sigh when he came across something interesting. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing strange. But today, for some reason, it felt like everything was amplified.
The common room was bustling with activity, but Sirius felt like he was in his own little bubble, completely absorbed in the sight of his best mate. Remus had always been someone he could count on—someone who never judged, never got angry, and never made Sirius feel like he wasn’t enough. And yet, in this moment, everything seemed to feel different.
Sirius’s thoughts were interrupted when a soft voice broke through the quiet.
“Padfoot, are you going to stare at me all day, or are you going to help me with this Transfiguration homework?”
Sirius blinked, realizing he’d been staring at Remus without even noticing it. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get caught.” He picked up his own Transfiguration textbook, hoping to shake off the odd feeling bubbling up inside him.
Remus smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar way. “You’re lucky I’m used to it.”
Sirius chuckled, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. Used to it? What does that even mean?
There was a moment of silence before Remus turned back to his book, his focus shifting back to his work. Sirius tried to focus on his own, but his mind kept drifting. He could feel the tension in the air—something unspoken, something that hadn’t been there before. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, but the feeling persisted, gnawing at him from the inside.
It wasn’t long before another figure entered the common room—Caitlyn, a Gryffindor girl who had been friends with the group for a while. She was friendly and outgoing, the kind of person who could make anyone feel comfortable. Today, though, something about her presence made Sirius uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Hey, Remus!” Caitlyn called cheerfully as she approached their table, a smile plastered across her face. “Mind if I sit here?”
Remus glanced up from his book, smiling in return. “Of course, Caitlyn. Have a seat.”
Sirius tried to focus on his book, but his eyes betrayed him, darting between Caitlyn and Remus as the two began to chat. Caitlyn’s laugh echoed across the room, and Sirius couldn’t help but notice how Remus seemed to respond more easily to her than to anyone else. There was something in the way they interacted that made Sirius’s chest tighten—a little too comfortable, a little too familiar.
For the next hour, Caitlyn and Remus exchanged jokes and stories, their conversation flowing easily. Sirius felt a strange, inexplicable tension in his chest as he listened, though he couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like he had any claim on Remus. They were friends—best friends. That was all it was supposed to be.
But as Caitlyn leaned in closer to Remus to whisper something in his ear, Sirius felt something snap inside him. It was a sharp, uncomfortable feeling, like he was being left behind in some way he couldn’t quite articulate.
The moment passed quickly, and Caitlyn moved away, leaving Remus to go back to his homework. But Sirius couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled into his chest. He tried to push it down, tried to ignore it, but the discomfort lingered like an unwanted shadow.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Remus closed his book with a soft sigh, stretching his arms above his head. “Well, that’s enough studying for today,” he said, glancing at Sirius. “What do you think, Padfoot? Want to go for a walk?”
Sirius didn’t know what made him do it, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “You’re spending an awful lot of time with Caitlyn lately.”
Remus’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his voice was calm when he replied. “She’s just a friend, Sirius. What’s got you all worked up?”
Sirius didn’t have an answer. His heart was beating faster now, and he could feel his breath coming a little too quickly. He didn’t want to admit it—not even to himself—but the truth was, it bothered him. More than it should have.
“I’m not worked up,” Sirius said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just making an observation.”
Remus looked at him carefully, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to read the unspoken tension in Sirius’s words. After a moment of silence, he leaned back in his chair, his voice soft but firm. “Look, if something’s bothering you, you can just say it. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”
Sirius froze. His mind screamed at him to say something—anything—that would explain away the sudden tension he felt. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Instead, he just gave a nonchalant shrug, hoping to brush it off.
“It’s nothing, Moony,” he said, the words coming out more clipped than he intended. “Forget I said anything.”
Remus didn’t press, but the look he gave Sirius lingered in his mind long after the conversation had ended. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Remus knew something was off, but it didn’t matter. Sirius didn’t need to be that guy. He didn’t need to make everything complicated.
Later that evening, after dinner, the common room was quieter. Most students had retreated to their dorms, and the ones who remained were busy with their own work or chatting in low voices. Sirius found himself sitting by the fire, a book in his hands, but he wasn’t reading. His mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Remus earlier.
He tried to focus on the words in front of him—tried to escape the feeling that kept bubbling up whenever Remus’s face crossed his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Remus to have friends. That would be ridiculous. Remus deserved to be surrounded by people who appreciated him. But... why did it bother him so much?
A soft cough broke his train of thought. He looked up to see Remus standing in front of him, a hesitant smile on his face. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Sirius quickly dropped the book onto the couch, trying to look casual. “Of course, Moony. It’s your fire too.”
Remus took a seat beside him, close enough that their legs brushed. Sirius felt his heart skip a beat but didn’t let it show. He shifted slightly, pulling his legs up onto the couch to make more room between them. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to hide the sudden surge of warmth that had spread through him.
They sat in silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound filling the space. Remus didn’t seem to notice the tension hanging in the air, but Sirius couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different now. Something had shifted in him—whether it was the way Caitlyn had smiled at Remus, or the way Remus had laughed so easily with her. He wasn’t sure. He just knew that he didn’t want to feel this way anymore.
“Are you still thinking about Caitlyn?” Remus finally asked, his voice quiet, but not unkind.
Sirius froze, his breath catching in his throat. “What?” he asked, not trusting himself to speak any louder.
Remus tilted his head slightly, looking at him with those thoughtful, brown eyes. “You’ve been acting weird since she came over earlier. If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”
Sirius’s chest tightened. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. His mind was spinning, a thousand thoughts crashing into one another, and he couldn’t make sense of any of them.
“I’m fine, Moony,” Sirius said after a moment, forcing a smile he didn’t feel. “Honestly. Just... tired. You know how it is.”
Remus didn’t look convinced. His eyes searched Sirius’s face, as though trying to figure out the puzzle that was his best friend. “You’ve been acting off all day,” Remus said slowly, his voice soft but insistent. “Something’s changed, and I don’t think it’s just Caitlyn. You can talk to me, Pads. You know that.”
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in his throat. Remus was looking at him with such an open, concerned expression that it felt like a weight was pressing down on him. The urge to tell Remus the truth was there, at the edge of his consciousness, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not when everything had always been so simple between them.
Instead, he stood up abruptly, his palms clammy, and walked over to the window, looking out at the darkening sky. “It’s nothing, really,” Sirius said, his back to Remus. “Just... a lot on my mind. Don’t worry about it.”
Remus didn’t move at first, but then there was the soft sound of his footsteps approaching. “Sirius,” he said quietly, “Don’t shut me out.”
The way Remus said his name made something inside Sirius twist. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight the strange feeling building in his chest.
Don’t look at him, Sirius thought. Don’t look at those eyes. You’re overthinking this. You’re not like that. You can’t be.
But before he could stop himself, he turned around, his gaze locking onto Remus’s.
“I don’t know what’s going on, Moony,” he confessed, his voice quieter than he meant it to be. “I just... I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing you with her. Or anyone, really.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s stupid. It’s nothing.”
Remus’s eyes softened, though he still looked confused. “Why does it bother you so much?” he asked gently. “I’m just talking to her. She’s a friend.”
“I know that,” Sirius snapped, his frustration bubbling over. “But... but when you’re with her, or anyone else, it’s like you’re not really here. And I can’t stand it.”
Remus blinked, clearly taken aback by Sirius’s sudden outburst. “Sirius... what are you trying to say?”
Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but his throat went dry. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell Remus what had been gnawing at him for weeks—what he’d been pretending not to feel.
Instead, he just shook his head and muttered, “Forget it, okay? I’m just being stupid. You don’t have to listen to me.”
But Remus didn’t step back. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Padfoot. But you’ve got to talk to me. If something’s bothering you this much, it’s not nothing. You can’t keep pushing it down like this.”
Sirius stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of everything he was feeling suddenly felt too much to bear. Remus was too close. He was looking at him with that soft, caring gaze that made everything inside him feel toomuch.
For a moment, there was only silence between them, but this time it was different. It wasn’t uncomfortable—it was almost... necessary.
Sirius felt a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading through him, starting from where Remus's hand was resting—like a cozy blanket on a chilly day. He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Remus’s, like they were in some serious staring contest, searching for reassurance and finding it in those steady puppy-dog eyes.
"I’m scared," Sirius blurted out, his voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. "Scared of what you'll see if you look too closely. Like, I might have a few more skeletons in my closet than I thought."
Remus gave a small, understanding nod, probably imagining a whole skeleton dance party. "We all have shadows, Sirius. It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone. Not anymore. Unless you eat my last slice of pizza, then we might have a problem."
The room was silent except for the soft rustling of leaves outside, which was way more peaceful than the chaos in Sirius's brain. It felt like they were standing on the edge of something big—like, new beginnings and trust issues were about to collide like two clumsy wizards.
"Okay," Sirius finally said, his voice stronger, like he had just downed a double espresso. "I'll try. I mean, how bad could it be? You might just discover I’m a total mess, but hey, at least I’m a fun mess!"
Remus’s smile was gentle, like he just won the Best Mate Award. "That's all I ask, mate. One step at a time. And if you ever need to talk, just remember I come with snacks." Sirius stood there, his heart pounding in his chest as Remus’s hand lingered on his arm. For a moment, it felt like everything was hanging in the balance—like the air itself was charged with unspoken words. But then Remus pulled his hand back, his expression softening, almost as if nothing had happened at all.
“Look, Pads,” Remus said casually, though his tone was laced with an odd sort of understanding. “It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself right now. I know you’re just… frustrated, yeah?”
Sirius blinked, trying to pull himself together. He couldn’t look at Remus too closely. Not now. The words that had almost escaped him only moments ago felt like too much to say. What if he figured it out? The idea made his chest tighten, and he forced a grin, shaking his head to dismiss the weight of the conversation.
“Yeah, I’m just being an idiot,” Sirius muttered, turning away to walk toward the armchairs by the fire. His voice came out flippant, even though the way his pulse raced betrayed the lie. “Anyway, I’m not in the mood to talk about it anymore. You know how I am.”
Remus didn’t protest. Instead, he followed him to the chairs, dropping down into the seat beside him. “Fair enough,” he said, giving Sirius an easy smile. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. No pressure.”
The air between them had shifted again, but neither of them mentioned it. Sirius let out a deep breath, trying to let go of the tension that still hung on him, still nagging at him. If they didn’t talk about it, it would go away, right? Remus would forget about the weird conversation. Sirius would move on. They’d be fine.
Remus leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the room, as though the awkwardness from a few minutes ago had never even happened. He picked up a nearby Quidditch magazine and started flipping through it with a casual interest. His relaxed demeanor made it harder for Sirius to keep up the pretense that everything was fine.
Sirius tried to refocus on the fire, the flames dancing in front of him. He kept his thoughts fixed on the sound of the crackling wood, willing himself to believe that it wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it.
“So,” Remus said after a long pause, glancing over at him, “you still up for the prank we talked about with James and Peter? We’re going to need you to sneak into the Slytherin common room for the last part.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. “You’re asking me to sneak into Slytherin?” he said with a smirk, finally letting his tension ease. “You’re asking for trouble, Moony.”
Remus chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous gleam. “You’re the only one who can pull it off without getting caught. Besides, you’re the master of getting past Filch.”
Sirius’s heart lightened a little at the thought. As much as he wanted to pretend everything was normal, part of him longed for the easy camaraderie they’d always shared. He tried to shrug off the disorienting thoughts that still threatened to rise within him.
“Alright, fine. But I’m going to need some backup. You’ll owe me a round of Butterbeers afterward,” he replied, settling into the chair with a smirk.
“Deal,” Remus grinned. “Now, I’ll leave you to your brooding. It’s clear you’re not ready to talk about whatever it was you were going on about earlier.”
Sirius felt the tension between them dissolve into something familiar again, something comfortable. They both ignored the thick unspoken words lingering in the room, pretending the conversation had never taken place. Pretending that everything was fine.
Sirius found himself wishing it could really be that easy. That everything he was feeling could be brushed away with a joke or a harmless distraction. But as the night wore on, the weight of his unspoken thoughts didn’t quite lift. It sat there, quietly, like a shadow that he couldn’t shake. And though they both pretended to move past it, the truth remained tucked away, carefully buried under the surface.