Unspoken Moments
The day of the exam dawned with an air of impending doom hanging over the castle. The chatter in the Great Hall during breakfast was subdued, with even the most confident students looking pale and anxious. For James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, the weight of Potions loomed like a dark cloud.
"I can't believe Slughorn expects us to remember all those antidotes," James muttered as they trudged toward the exam room.
"Honestly, I’ve already accepted my fate,” Peter mumbled, clutching his books to his chest like a shield.
“I’d rather face a pack of wild grindylows than this,” Sirius declared, but his dramatic flair didn’t mask his nerves.
Remus just rolled his eyes. "It’s not that bad."
They stepped into the exam room, their footsteps echoing in the too-quiet space. The desks were arranged in neat rows, each with a crisp sheet of parchment and an inkpot waiting ominously. Slughorn stood at the front, his cheerful demeanor doing nothing to soothe their nerves.
Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before settling into their usual seats next to each other near the back.
“You ready for this?” Sirius whispered as they took out their quills.
“Not even a little,” Remus replied with a tight smile.
The exam began with a flick of Slughorn’s wand, and the room filled with the scratch of quills on parchment. The questions were predictably awful—long, detailed, and full of opportunities for disaster. Sirius scowled at his paper, twirling his quill between his fingers, while Remus seemed focused, his brow furrowed in concentration.
About halfway through, Remus leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward Sirius. Without a word, he peeled off a small corner of his parchment, scribbled something on it, and slid it toward Sirius under the desk.
Sirius glanced at the tiny scrap and unfolded it carefully.
"The answer is D."
His lips twitched into a smirk. Keeping his head down, he quickly scrawled a reply:
"Is that really the answer, or are you just messing with me?"
Sliding the parchment back, Sirius circled D on his test anyway. When the scrap returned, he opened it with a casual air, expecting another teasing response. Instead, his breath caught.
There, next to a hastily scribbled "Yes, trust me," was a small heart.
For a moment, Sirius froze. The room around him—the scratch of quills, the mutter of Slughorn reminding students to check their work—faded into the background. All he could see was that tiny heart. His cheeks flushed, and his heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the parchment like it might sprout legs and sprint off his desk.
What did it mean? Was Remus joking? Testing him? Or—he dared not even think it—was it serious?
He glanced sideways at Remus, who was scribbling away on his exam as if nothing had happened. If he noticed Sirius’s sudden stillness, he didn’t show it.
Sirius folded the parchment neatly and slipped it into his pocket, determined to figure it out later. For now, he had to focus on not failing Potions—though that felt impossible with his thoughts racing.
By the time the exam ended, Sirius had barely written coherent answers for the last few questions. As they handed in their parchments, he lagged behind, waiting for Remus to finish packing up.
Finally, after Sirius had scribbled down what he hoped were passable answers on his exam parchment, he stood and stretched with exaggerated flair. Remus waited for him by the door, arms crossed but a patient smile on his face.
As they strolled down the castle corridors, heading toward the greenhouses for Herbology, the tension from the exam began to ebb away.
“So, Padfoot,” Remus began, his tone light, though there was a teasing edge to his words. “Do you think this is the moment you finally start paying attention in class?”
Sirius scoffed, his grin mischievous. “I could turn over a new leaf, I suppose…”
Remus raised an eyebrow, sensing the “but” coming a mile away.
“…but I won’t,” Sirius finished confidently, tossing his hair back with a flourish.
Remus chuckled and shook his head. “Of course not. That would be too much to ask.”
As they stepped outside, the crisp autumn air greeted them, carrying the faint scent of damp earth. The greenhouses loomed ahead, their glass panels gleaming in the pale sunlight.
When they reached the Herbology room, they found James and Peter already inside, seated at a table near the back. James waved them over enthusiastically, while Peter seemed preoccupied with inspecting something unpleasantly slimy on the table.
“You’re late,” James said with mock sternness as Sirius and Remus sat down.
“Blame Moony,” Sirius retorted, leaning back in his chair. “He insisted on walking at a snail’s pace.”
“I insisted on you not falling behind to flirt with the portraits,” Remus shot back, rolling his eyes but smiling.
Before Sirius could fire back a retort, Professor Sprout bustled into the room, her arms laden with pots of wriggling vines. The students groaned collectively as she announced they’d be working with Venomous Tentacula.
“Alright, pairs! And remember, gloves on at all times!” she called out, setting the pots down with a thud.
Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance, automatically pairing up as they always did. Pulling on their dragon-hide gloves, they approached their assigned plant, which was already snapping its tendrils menacingly.
“This is your chance, Padfoot,” Remus said as he reached for the pruning shears. “Prove you can actually follow instructions for once.”
“Instructions are for people who lack creativity,” Sirius quipped, though he was eyeing the plant warily.
Remus sighed, but there was fondness in his exasperation. “Just don’t lose a finger.”
As they worked together, dodging the occasional snapping tendril and trading banter, the tension of the exam and the strange moment between them earlier began to fade. Sirius’s humor and Remus’s steady presence created an easy rhythm that felt natural, comforting.
But Sirius couldn’t entirely shake the memory of that small, scribbled heart from his mind. Every now and then, he caught himself sneaking glances at Remus, who was completely focused on taming the unruly plant.
By the time class ended, their table was covered in trimmed vines and a few splashes of greenish sap.
“Well, we survived,” Sirius said as he peeled off his gloves, grinning. “Barely.”
“Speak for yourself,” Remus replied. “I’m the one who saved you from losing an eyebrow.”
“It would’ve grown back,” Sirius said breezily, earning a laugh from Remus.
“Thanks, though,” Sirius muttered, nudging a loose rock along the path with his foot.
“Always,” Remus replied softly.
Sirius felt warmth creeping up his neck, a faint flush blooming across his cheeks. His stomach churned with a mix of nerves and something he couldn’t quite name. As they walked in companionable silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet was the only sound, but the unspoken words lingered in the air between them.