High and Dry

Remus Lupin was sixteen when he realized he was in love with Sirius Black.

It had been an excruciating summer at Hope’s Cottage, one that he had spent largely in isolation. His first transformation during the summer had been unbearable. The wolf was angry, restless, and alone. Without his friends there to calm its rage or soften the agony, it tore through him more violently than ever. By morning, his body was littered with fresh wounds, a particularly deep one scarring his side—a reminder of how untamed the wolf became when stripped of its pack.

The days passed slowly. Remus found himself wandering to the edges of the forest, slipping into the shade of the trees, letting their silence press down on him. It was easier than staying inside, where his mother hovered, worried but unable to reach him.

James, Peter, and Sirius sent letters—of course they did. James’s were enthusiastic, full of tales of Quidditch practice and some daring escapade involving sneaking into Diagon Alley under his parents’ noses. Peter’s were nervous but warm, asking how Remus was feeling and apologizing for “not knowing what to say.”

Sirius’s letters, though—they were different. Shorter, more personal. Moony, write me back, will you? or I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but… I miss you. Sirius never outright apologized for what had happened at the end of the school year, but Remus could read the guilt between the lines, could feel it in every word Sirius scribbled onto the parchment.

But he didn’t write back.

He couldn’t.

The wound Sirius had left—telling Snape his secret, nearly leading him into the Shrieking Shack on a full moon—it was still too raw. Remus knew Sirius cared about him, logically. Sirius had been frantic, desperate to apologize, in his own way, in those last weeks of school. But Sirius was also reckless, brash, and immature in ways that Remus couldn’t ignore. And no matter how much Sirius cared, Remus couldn’t let himself believe it was as much as Remus…

Well.

Remus couldn’t let himself believe Sirius cared in the way Remus wished he did.

He had spent the last month of the school year withdrawing from everyone—holed up in the dormitory, ignoring Sirius’s pleading looks, Peter’s hesitant questions, and James’s attempts to console him. He spent most of his time with Lily in the library, studying even when he didn’t need to. Lily let him, of course, because Lily was kind like that. She didn’t press him for answers, didn’t tell him to snap out of it. She simply sat by his side, occasionally passing him a stack of books or commenting on some ridiculous thing James had done to try to get her attention.

That loneliness, though—it had been staggering. More crushing than anything he’d felt before Hogwarts. And the worst part was, it was self-inflicted. He couldn’t blame anyone else for it.

One day, in the dormitory, Remus was lying on his bed, pretending to read a book while James, Peter, and Sirius gathered around James’s bed. They were bickering about James’s incessant crush on Lily, as they so often did.

“You’ve got to be joking, Potter,” Sirius was saying, his voice carrying easily across the room. “You think writing her name in the sky during Quidditch practice is going to win her over? That’s not romantic—that’s embarrassing.”

“You wouldn’t know romance if it smacked you in the face,” James shot back, clearly annoyed. “Besides, I’ve seen how you look at girls. You’re all talk and no follow-through.”

Sirius gasped theatrically. “How dare you,” he said, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded.

Peter snickered, muttering something about Sirius being dramatic, and Sirius turned to him with an exaggerated glare. But then, as if sensing something, Sirius glanced over at Remus.

Remus was already watching him.

It was a mistake—a stupid, careless mistake. He hadn’t meant to look, hadn’t meant to let his gaze linger on the sharp curve of Sirius’s jaw or the way his hair fell messily over his forehead. But now Sirius had caught him, and there was no escaping it.

Sirius grinned, his lips quirking up at one side. Then, with all the ease in the world, he winked.

Uh-oh.

Remus’s stomach flipped, and a strange, jittery feeling spread through his chest. He felt like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm. It wasn’t fair that Sirius could do this to him—that he could smile like that, wink like that, and make Remus feel like the ground had shifted beneath his feet.

And that was the moment.

That was the moment Remus realized what it all meant—why he felt so unsteady around Sirius, why he couldn’t stop thinking about him, even when he was furious with him.

It wasn’t just friendship. It had never been just friendship.

Remus Lupin was sixteen and he was in love with Sirius Black.

The train was packed with students heading back to Hogwarts after the summer holidays. The compartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the train’s wheels on the tracks and the occasional rustle of someone’s luggage. James, Remus, and Peter were seated on the bench, all looking toward the door, awaiting the last member of their group.

“You think Sirius is going to show up soon?” James asked.

Peter shrugged, tapping his fingers nervously on the armrest. “He was supposed to meet us here ages ago. You don’t think he’s still sulking, do you?”

“No,” Remus said, his voice more distant than he intended, “he wouldn’t do that.” He paused, running a hand through his hair as he tried to suppress the nagging tension in his chest. He knew it wasn’t about sulking, not anymore. It was something else, something more difficult to define.

James caught his eye, his expression softening for a moment. “You alright, Moony?”

Remus gave a tight smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Just wondering where he is, that’s all.” He didn’t want to talk about it—not yet. Not when there was still so much unsaid between him and Sirius. Things had been… different.

Peter, ever the one to fill the silence, leaned forward. “Well, I hope he’s alright. I mean, we’ve all had a rough summer, haven’t we? But Sirius, especially. After… you know, everything that happened last year.” His voice dropped, but his eyes flicked nervously to Remus. “Do you think he’s still… struggling?”

Remus stiffened, but his gaze was fixed on the door. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, his throat tight. “But I know he’s been… quiet. Not like usual.” He had no idea what was going on inside Sirius’s head, but after everything that happened with the prank last year—after everything that had been said and done—Remus couldn’t help but feel there was something hanging between them that hadn’t quite been resolved.

James nodded, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, I’ve noticed it too. He’s been dodging us, I reckon.”

The door to the compartment slid open suddenly, and they all turned toward it, expecting to see Sirius’s usual energetic grin.

Instead, Sirius stepped in quietly, his dark hair slightly tousled, his eyes scanning the compartment before he closed the door behind him. He didn’t smile, didn’t make any of his usual jokes. His usual carefree energy was absent. He seemed… different.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sirius said, though there was no real apology in his voice. It was more of an offhand remark. He dropped his bag beside the window and sat down, his gaze flicking to Remus briefly before he looked away, as if trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed the silence.

Remus’s heart skipped a beat. The tension in the room seemed to double in an instant. He could feel the unspoken words hanging between them, like a tightrope they both dared not cross. He could see that Sirius was avoiding him, but there was something else, something more telling in the way his eyes flickered back to him before he turned away.

James, sensing the undercurrent of discomfort, jumped in quickly. “Alright, mate, glad you’re here. Now we can get to the real business of tormenting the first years.”

Sirius didn’t respond at first. Instead, he glanced out of the window, staring at the passing countryside. Peter, eager to fill the silence, piped up. “Do you think we’ll get to see the Giant Squid this year? I miss seeing it whenever we pass the lake.”

“I don’t know,” James said, smirking. “It’s usually hiding, isn’t it? Maybe it’s just shy.”

“Or maybe it’s just waiting to eat one of us,” Remus added dryly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

There was a brief pause. Then Sirius snorted. “Not likely, Moony. It’s only after students who think they’re clever enough to swim out to it.”

Peter, always eager to join in, laughed nervously. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d fancy testing that theory, thanks.”

But as the words left his mouth, Remus couldn’t help but glance at Sirius again. This time, their eyes met, and for a split second, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Sirius’s gray eyes were intense, almost searching, as if trying to gauge something from him. Remus felt his pulse quicken. The air between them was thick with something unspoken. He couldn’t look away, even though everything inside him screamed that he should.

Sirius’s lips parted, but before he could say anything, James’s voice cut through the tension. Again. “Alright, alright. We’ll save the deep conversations for after the feast. Let’s just get back to Hogwarts in one piece, yeah?”

Sirius broke the eye contact first, leaning back against the seat and crossing his arms, as if retreating into himself. The moment had passed, but Remus couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had just slipped by.

The rest of the ride passed in a haze of light conversation and idle chatter, but the tension between Sirius and Remus lingered, thick and unspoken. The jokes and laughter were all too loud, too forced, as if everyone knew what was missing but no one wanted to name it.

—-----------------------

The Great Hall was alive with chatter, laughter, and the clatter of goblets and silverware. The four of them sat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by the hum of students catching up on their first week back. For anyone else, it might have felt like a normal start to term, but for Remus, the aches and pains of the full moon two nights ago lingered in his every movement. He tried not to wince each time he shifted on the wooden bench, though his sharp intake of breath hadn’t gone unnoticed by Sirius, who was seated beside him.

“What the hell are you on about now, James?” Remus asked, arching a brow as he picked at his toast.

“Moony!” James gasped, clutching his chest in mock affront. “I’m wounded. I was only suggesting something brilliant —an idea to kick off the year properly.” He leaned forward, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. “Picture this: We charm the Slytherin table so their plates keep refilling with Brussels sprouts, no matter how much they eat. And if they try to move to another table, bam , sprouts follow them.”

Peter frowned, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Does it have to be against the Slytherins again?”

“Of course,” Sirius interjected without missing a beat, his voice laced with indignation as he reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice. “Who else? The Hufflepuffs? Don’t be ridiculous, Wormtail.”

Remus huffed a laugh despite himself, though it pulled painfully at his ribs. He reached for his tea, trying to focus on the warmth of the cup rather than the throbbing in his side. The memory of the full moon was still fresh—too fresh.

This one had been different.

Moony had been… excited. Excited to see the others again after a long summer apart. But Moony’s excitement had quickly turned into something else, something far more aggressive. He’d played rough with Padfoot, lunging harder, biting deeper. As if the wolf could sense the lingering tension between Remus and Sirius that still hadn’t fully resolved.

And then it had happened.

A sharp snap of Moony’s jaws, a yelp that froze his heart. When Remus woke up in the hospital wing the next morning, it wasn’t Madam Pomfrey he’d noticed first. It was Sirius, sprawled on the bed beside him, his leg bandaged tightly, but still smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Remus had nearly panicked on the spot, guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. But Sirius, ever himself, had brushed it off like it was nothing.

“It’s fine, Moony,” he’d said, voice soft but firm. “I’d rather take the bite than have you go through it alone.”

Remus could hardly speak. His throat had tightened, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at Sirius, this boy who was so infuriating, so reckless, and yet so endlessly forgiving.

“You’re alright, Padfoot,” he’d finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius had smiled, that lopsided, crooked smile that always seemed to make Remus’s chest ache.

Now, sitting at the Gryffindor table, Sirius leaned back casually, his leg stretched out under the table as if it weren’t still healing. Remus couldn’t help but glance at him, the familiar guilt twisting low in his stomach.

“You’re being quiet,” Sirius said, nudging Remus gently with his shoulder. “Agree with me on the sprouts thing, won’t you? James is onto something.”

“James is onto insanity,” Remus muttered, shaking his head. But the corners of his mouth tugged upward despite himself.

“Insanity makes life interesting,” James interjected, beaming.

Peter snorted. “Insanity is going to get us all expelled.”

“Well, at least we’ll go out in style,” Sirius said, tossing his hair overdramatically.

The three of them laughed, but Sirius’s gaze lingered on Remus for a moment longer, his gray eyes soft with something unspoken. Remus caught it, and for a brief second, he felt the world slow around them. He managed a small smile, one that Sirius returned without hesitation.

“Alright,” Remus said finally, breaking the moment as he turned back to his tea. “But if this prank lands us in detention before the month is out, I’m blaming all of you.”

“Blame away,” Sirius said breezily, though his foot nudged Remus’s gently under the table, as if to say something he didn’t quite dare to say aloud.

Remus didn’t move his foot.

—-----------------------

Remus limped into the library, fully aware of the sharp ache in his hip. The pain was dull but persistent, a steady hum under his skin, but he had learned to ignore it over the years. The quiet of the library seemed to ease the tension in his body, and as he walked down the aisles of bookshelves, he finally spotted Lily.

She was hunched over a pile of parchment, her dark red hair falling messily over her face as she scribbled furiously. Remus smiled softly to himself, knowing just how hard Lily worked, how determined she was about everything she did. She looked up when she felt his presence, her eyes widening with relief as she saw him approach.

“Remus!” she exclaimed, sitting up straight in her chair. Her face lit up with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Thank god you’re here. Professor Binns assigned this godawful essay on the first week of school! Isn’t that rubbish?” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Of course, I studied the summer readings, but gosh, Moony, this—” she flung the essay in frustration, “—this is dreadful.”

Remus chuckled lightly, the sound soft in the quiet space. He could feel the familiar tension in his body begin to ease just by being around Lily. She had a way of making everything feel a little lighter, even when things seemed impossible.

“I’ll help you, Lily,” he said, sitting down next to her. He pulled out his own parchment and set it beside her messy notes.

Lily gave him a grateful look, her tired eyes softening as she smiled. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore the way his heart warmed at her words. “It’s the least I can do,” he replied, spreading his notes out in front of him. The two of them settled into a quiet rhythm, working in companionable silence. The only sounds were the occasional cough from other students around the library and the scratch of quills on parchment as they both worked.

But eventually, the quiet became too much for Remus, and he broke it by looking up at Lily, catching her eye.

“So, how was your summer?” he asked softly, genuinely curious. He knew that it had to have been different for her, just like it had been for him.

Lily let out a sigh and smiled faintly, her gaze turning distant as she leaned back in her chair. “It was boring, honestly,” she began, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “My parents took me to the zoo for a day, and that was fun, but other than that…” She trailed off, shrugging.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “The zoo?” he asked, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re telling me you went to the zoo for fun?”

Lily laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Don’t sound so surprised. I actually like animals. I might be a bit of a nerd when it comes to that stuff, but… yeah. It was alright.”

“Glad to hear it wasn’t all terrible, then,” Remus said with a grin, feeling a sense of normalcy settle over him for a brief moment.

Lily gave him a sideways glance, a playful smirk appearing on her lips. “Well, it wasn’t all boring,” she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “James kept sending me letters all summer, practically begging me to write back. It was so annoying.” She huffed in mock exasperation, rolling her eyes. “Every other week, another letter asking about my summer, telling me about his ‘amazing’ adventures—like I didn’t already know half of it from the constant chatter we have in class.”

Remus’s lips quirked upward at the mention of James, always so full of energy and enthusiasm. “Sounds like James,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you ever write back?”

Lily shot him a teasing look. “Of course I did. I’m not that cruel.” She grinned, though there was a certain fondness in her expression when she mentioned James. “But honestly, it got to the point where I just started writing ‘Yes, James, my summer was fine. How’s yours?’ just to get him off my back. You’d think he was the only one who had a social life, the way he carried on.”

“Well, at least it sounds like you survived,” Remus said with a smile. “Maybe next year, you should try to take James with you to the zoo, though. Might do him some good to get a bit of fresh air without a broomstick involved.”

Lily grinned, her green eyes sparkling. “You might be right about that,” she agreed, tapping her quill against the edge of her parchment. “I think I’ll suggest it next time.”

Remus had meant it as a joke. He couldn’t help the playful smirk that tugged at his lips as he glanced at Lily. "Actually?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

To his surprise, Lily didn’t immediately shut him down. Instead, she looked flustered, her cheeks tinged pink. "Well, I mean, maybe it will help his insufferable nature when it comes to Muggles," she said, her voice suddenly quieter. "Somebody has to teach him, right?"

Remus raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "You always complained last year about being paired with him in Potions. And now you would, what, willingly spend time with him outside of school?"

Lily sputtered, her eyes wide with alarm. "I was only joking!" she insisted, waving her hands in the air as though to dismiss the idea. "I don’t know what I was thinking."

Remus leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her with a knowing look. "Sure," he said, the word dripping with playful skepticism. "Totally just a joke."

Lily shot him an exasperated glance, clearly flustered by his teasing. "Fine, fine," she muttered, leaning back as well. "I admit it—he’s not entirely unbearable sometimes."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "Just admit you might actually have a soft spot for him, Lily. It’s okay. You can’t keep pretending you don’t."

Lily’s face turned even redder, but she was smiling now, an amused, somewhat guilty look crossing her face. "I’m not admitting anything. But you might be right... maybe."

The air between them shifted, the teasing playful and warm, and Remus couldn’t help but feel a small pang of amusement at the idea of Lily and James—two of his closest friends—dancing around their feelings for each other. He hadn’t thought of it much before, but now, it felt oddly reassuring that they could all be so complicated, so human in their own way. He looked at Lily, her embarrassment fading, and smiled.

"Alright," he said after a beat, leaning forward slightly, "but if you do end up spending time with Potter, just make sure he knows what he’s getting into."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Don’t worry, Remus. I’ll make sure he knows."

—-----------------------

It was the first Quidditch practice of the season, and Remus found himself sitting in the stands next to Peter, watching as James and Sirius flew back and forth across the pitch. The crisp autumn air was filled with the sound of broomsticks zooming. He found his attention wandering to Sirius. He could almost see the smirk on Sirius’s face as he successfully launched the quaffle toward James, hearing the sound of his laughter echoing through the air. It was a sound Remus had long associated with warmth, with carefree moments, and now it twisted something in his chest.

Peter nudged him, breaking his reverie. “Is Sirius alright?” Peter’s voice was uncertain, and it made Remus glance at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” Remus asked, furrowing his brow.

Peter hesitated before speaking again. “Well, hasn’t he been a little… off?”

Remus blinked, not quite understanding. Off? Sirius had been his usual self—unpredictable, wild, maybe a little brash. But then again, Remus had been preoccupied with his own thoughts 

“I… suppose,” Remus replied slowly, trying to follow Peter’s train of thought. He hadn’t noticed anything particularly wrong, Sirius was quiet at times, sure. There was an air around him. Stagnant. But Remus had assumed the mood fell as a result of Sirius and Remus’s lingering fight, but now that Peter brought it up, he found himself reflecting.

Peter continued, his voice low and careful. “I just mean... maybe he had a bad summer. You know how his parents are.”

Remus stiffened slightly. He didn’t want to think about Sirius’s parents, the ones who had shaped him into the person he was today—someone he could never quite get close to, someone who always seemed to be on the edge of something darker. Remus didn’t want to imagine how lonely those summers must have been for Sirius. He knew the pain of family rejection too well.

But he brushed that thought away. “He always has a bad summer,” Remus muttered, though even to himself, it sounded hollow.

Peter wasn’t done though. His voice dropped even lower as if confiding a secret. “Something different happened, is all I’m saying. Haven’t you noticed he isn’t sleeping?”

Remus froze. He hadn’t thought about it before, but now the thought clung to him, persistent. Sirius isn’t sleeping?

“What do you mean he isn’t sleeping?” Remus asked, the concern in his voice obvious despite his attempts to sound casual.

Peter seemed to shrink in on himself, avoiding Remus’s gaze. “He sneaks out of the dorm almost every night,” he muttered.

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Remus tried to keep his mind from racing. 

Remus blinked, his brain sluggishly processing Peter’s words. Sneaks out every night? A strange sensation stirred in his chest, though he quickly shoved it aside. Why does it matter?

“Stalking him, are you?” Remus said, trying to joke, but the words felt wrong the second they left his mouth.

Peter snorted. “No wanker, I see him on the Map. Every night, he goes to the Astronomy Tower.”

Remus felt his stomach tighten. The Astronomy Tower... Why? His mind whirled with possibilities, most of which didn’t seem to make any sense. But there was something about the image of Sirius sneaking out in the dead of night, wandering the castle alone, that unsettled him.

Curious , Remus thought. Curious, but I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the thoughts away. He couldn't let his mind go there. Not again.

“Why are you looking at the Map at night, Peter?” Remus asked, his voice sharp.

Peter flushed, and it was all Remus needed to know. Peter was hiding something. “Er—well,” Peter stammered, eyes darting about, “I—sometimes I just, you know, check up on things.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth despite the situation. “Right. Sure, Peter. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Peter went redder than before and quickly turned his attention back to the pitch, muttering something under his breath. 

—-----------------------

“Wow! What a day, huh Lupin?!” Sirius’s voice was loud and animated, his eyes wide with excitement as he slapped Remus on the back. His hand felt hot against Remus’s shoulder, a little too warm, a little too close, and it sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

Remus didn’t respond immediately, too caught up in his own thoughts. He had been walking with Peter to Potions lately, but today, the four had met up after Quidditch practice, where James had then convinced Peter to go back to the pitch with him. Remus wasn’t sure what was going on with that—Peter had looked a little apologetic as he left, like he knew Remus wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. He gave Peter a pleading look, but Sirius had clapped him on the back, again, and just said, “Well come on, Moons,” pulling him into the walk.

Sirius went on and on about how Quidditch practice had gone, his voice brimming with excitement as he described the new strategies James had introduced. But Remus wasn’t really listening. His mind kept drifting back to that conversation with Peter—Peter’s sudden mention of Sirius being “off” lately, and how he hadn’t been sleeping. Remus hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what to make of it.

For all of Remus’s efforts, his internal pleas to not care, to brush off Sirius’s qualms, he found himself staring at Sirius anyway. It was impossible not to. He glanced at Sirius, trying to figure out what had changed. Their time together this past week had been strained—Sirius was still joking around and acting like his usual self, but there was something more distant in his eyes, something colder. Remus could almost feel it between them, a tension that hadn’t been there before. It was the same tension that existed on the train, the same tension that had existed as he left the platform last term, smiling tightly at Sirius as he bid his goodbyes. Sirius hadn’t hugged him. Not like he usually did,

Of course, Remus knew why. He had yelled at Sirius last term, telling him to stay away, and their friendship had barely started to piece itself together again by the end of the year. Then, of course, there was the whole matter of the summer—Remus hadn’t replied to a single one of Sirius’s letters. He’d ignored them all. He knew it had hurt Sirius, but it felt easier that way. Easier to pretend that maybe their friendship wasn’t as important to him as it actually was.

They reached the corridor that led to the Potions classroom, and Sirius had begun to go on about some ridiculous prank he was planning to pull on the Slytherins. Remus nodded along, occasionally adding his own thoughts, but his mind was elsewhere. He was too distracted by the way Sirius’s voice had grown more animated in the past few minutes, and how normal it seemed, even though it felt so different between them now.

Then, suddenly, the mood shifted.

A sharp, deep voice rang out from ahead of them, cutting through the conversation like a blade. Remus’s head snapped up to see Severus Snape, standing just ahead with Barty Crouch Jr. by his side. Remus instinctively tensed at the sight of them. He could already feel the animosity radiating off Snape, the way his eyes narrowed when they landed on Remus.

"Ah, the little sickling," Snape sneered, his lip curling in disgust. "Spent last week in the hospital wing, did you? I can see you limping. Need help from your boyfriend to get around, Lupin?"

Remus’s heart dropped to his stomach. He clenched his fists.

Snape did this odd thing with his mouth, shaping it into a wide grin, before saying “Your dog is limping too. Bite him senseless did you?” 

Before Remus could say anything, he felt Sirius stiffen next to him. The anger in Sirius’s eyes was unmistakable, and for a moment, Remus feared that he would lash out. He could see it—the heat rising in Sirius, the burning need to defend Remus from the words of someone like Snape.

But instead, Remus acted quickly. His hand shot out and grabbed Sirius’s wrist, pulling him along without saying a word.

Sirius didn’t resist, though the tension in his arm was still there. He let Remus guide him forward, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they moved past Snape and Barty, who were now exchanging smug looks.

"Come on," Remus muttered, his voice low but firm. "Let’s just go. It’s not worth it."

Sirius didn’t say anything, but Remus could feel the tightness in his wrist, the way his friend was clearly itching to do something about Snape’s comment. Remus squeezed his wrist tighter, just a little, as a silent signal to stop. He could feel Sirius’s frustration, the heat of it radiating off him, but Sirius didn’t pull away.

“How can you just let him be like that, Moony?” Sirius said, his voice raw with frustration. “Looking at you like that? How can you just stand there when you know he knows about—” Sirius stopped abruptly, choking on the words as if even saying them out loud was unbearable.

Remus felt his chest tighten, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. “Knows about what? What are you trying to say, Sirius?” His voice was sharp, but his insides were a mess of confusion and hurt.

Sirius flinched, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Well, that’s not exactly my fault, now is it?” Remus shot back, his words stinging more than he intended.

Sirius seemed to shrink, but before Remus could process the weight of his words, Sirius pulled him sharply to the side of the hall.

“Seriously?” Remus exclaimed, surprised by the sudden intensity. He expected a joke, a sarcastic remark, Sirius’s famous line. But instead, Sirius was just staring at him—serious, no pun intended.

Remus noticed his hand was still on Sirius’s wrist, gripping it without even thinking. He let go, but Sirius quickly grabbed it again, his touch desperate.

“Remus,” Sirius said softly, the weight of his voice settling between them. “I know. I— I... I’m sorry, Remus. I’m sorry. You know I am. I just, well... he acted like that, and I wanted him dead.”

Remus’s heart skipped a beat, but his anger flared. “Dead? Sirius, really? You wanted him dead?”

Sirius cut him off, his face flushed with shame. “I didn’t think, Moony. I wasn’t thinking of you— as horrible as that sounds. I was angry. So angry. And tired. I wanted him punished. For how he treats you.”

Remus stood still, the words hanging in the air like stones in his chest. Silence stretched between them, heavier than any argument they’d ever had. Finally, Remus spoke, his voice soft but firm. “I know you weren’t thinking of me.”

Sirius took a step back, his eyes wide. “Wouldn’t it have been worse if I had?”

Remus met his gaze, his heart thudding in his chest. There was a crease in Sirius’s brow, something vulnerable, something he couldn’t bear to leave untouched. Remus’s thumb almost itched to press into that frown, to make it disappear. But instead, he shook his head.

“No,” he said simply, the word heavier than any of the ones that came before it.

Sirius’s breath caught, and for a long moment, neither of them moved, trapped in the delicate, painful space between what was.