carpe diem
“A young man came to me with a message from his brother,
How should the young man know the whether and when of his brother?
Tell him to send me the signs.”
In the few weeks since their poetry class had begun, Remus had grown accustomed to this strange semi-friendship with Sirius Black. He wouldn’t say that they were real friends, or that he even liked Sirius, but in the confines of that poetry class, surrounded by those David Bowie records, the pair had developed a somewhat amicable relationship. Remus had begun to anticipate Sirius’s arrivals to class with excitement rather than dread, his consistent lateness, loud footsteps and bustled greetings. Sometimes, Remus's ears would perk up when he heard those distinctive Doc Marten footsteps outside of class, bouncing around the hallways or the Gryffindor common room, instinctively seeking out that black mane of curls. He’d even begun returning Sirius’s greetings in the hallways. This, of course, made for some awkwardness when he was walking with Lily and Sirius was walking with James (which he almost always was), usually leading to a wink or a suggestive comment that was brushed off with an eye roll and huff.
Remus wanted to tell Sirius to have James leave Lily alone, but he wasn’t sure how. He had never been a confrontational person, and was afraid to risk his tentative semi-friendship with Sirius. Not that it mattered very much to him. Just that it would be very awkward to sit next to the boy every day if Sirius was upset with him. They had been talking more and more recently, and although the conversations were usually started by Sirius, Remus had given up on trying to shut them down. He quite enjoyed them sometimes, actually.
Recently, Sirius had asked Remus about Walt Whitman, who seemed to be Sirius’s favorite poet from the class so far, if the way he leaned forward and smiled everytime the name was brought up was any indication. He’d enthusiastically asked Remus if he knew a lot of Whitman, and where Sirius could find more of him. He’d already read all the Whitman included in their course materials, he said.
Remus didn’t know how to explain that the only way to find more Walt Whitman would be to sneak out and visit a muggle bookstore, and didn’t want to see the disappointment on Sirius’s face when he realized that very few wizards gave a single shit about Walt Whitman’s poetry, so he’d avoided the question, saying he’d get back to him about it.
Peter and Lily were also strangely invested in the poetry class, asking him about it nearly every time they were all alone together. The morning before September’s full moon, which Remus had been dreading all month, was no different. Lily had come in without a knock, tugging a brush through her red hair as she flopped down onto Peter’s bed without invitation.
Lily glanced around herself a few times to ensure that the room was clear before asking, “How are you feeling about tonight?” She and Peter were the only two people that knew, and they were very careful with it.
“Fine,” said Remus dismissively. Sometimes he wanted to talk about it, and sometimes he didn’t, and this was one of the latter times.
Lily seemed to pick up on the message, dropping the subject with a smooth, “yeah, it’s a cold one.”
Peter jumped on the opportunity granted by the silence to bring up their favorite subject as of late.
“How’s poetry with Professor Kipling?” he asked.
“Professor Keating,” said Remus. “And good.”
“How’s Sirius Black?”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Remus with a sigh. He was used to this line of questioning by now. “I hardly know him.”
“No?” Lily said, quirking a brow. “No more comparisons to summer’s days, then?”
Remus’s cheeks burned as Peter cackled beside Lily, who looked quite proud of the comment. In a moment of weakness, call it a post-poetry stupor, Remus had described to his friends Sirius’s reading of Sonnet 18, perhaps over-dramatizing it a bit. The two had not let go of it since, coming on two weeks now.
“It was soooo amazing,” Peter said, in what was clearly supposed to be an imitation of Remus’s voice but sounded absolutely nothing like him. “That’s like, how poetry is meant to be read.”
“I did not say any of that,” Remus said.
“Yes, you did,” Lily said. “You were like, starstruck.”
“I was not,” said Remus, shaking his head. Admittedly, he did remember saying something along the lines, but Peter's imitation was greatly exaggerated, and he himself had been exaggerating at the time. “It was really not that great,” he added.
“Sure it wasn’t,” said Peter.
“It wasn’t!” Remus insisted, growing tired of this topic of conversation and somewhat wishing they’d stuck to the full moon. “I was just expecting it to be completely terrible, so it was a surprise when it was actually okay. Okay, passable at best. It was not all of that.”
Peter completely ignored everything Remus had said. “You should become friends with him, Remus.”
This drew simultaneous horrified looks from both Lily and Peter.
“What the- with Sirius Black? Why?”
“He’s friends with James Potter, Peter,” added Lily, spitting out the name like a profanity.
“Yeah, the most popular boy in the class,” said Peter.
“Who cares?” said Lily.
“Easy for you to say,” Peter spat. “You could be popular if you wanted to.”
Remus had to agree with that one. Lily had a sweet personality and soft-spoken kindness that made her impossible to dislike, so much so that even the Slytherins never seemed to target her in their ongoing Gryffindor rivalry. She was friendly with everyone, even the Slytherins, who she knew through Snape, and could easily join any social group that she so desired. Not to mention she had developed a certain reputation for her antagonistically flirtatious relationship with James Potter, which had half the Gryffindor class thinking they were soulmates bound to be together and the other half thinking that Lily was a victim who ought to bombarda James’s ass into the sun and be done with it. Both sides of the conflict held Lily in high regard. It helped that she was, in Remus’s admittedly biased opinion, the most beautiful girl in their class, silky red waves and bright green eyes like emeralds, sunny freckles splattered over her button nose and porcelain cheeks. Remus had never really felt attracted to a girl before, but even he knew that Lily Evans was objectively gorgeous. For all James Potter’s flaws, Remus could at least understand his infatuation for her, though he took it way too far most times.
The fact that she spent so much time with Remus and Peter was baffling, and had been the subject of many confused conversations between the pair over the years. However, neither were complaining. They knew that the public perception of her- the sweet, pretty, good girl- couldn’t be further from the truth. They saw the real Lily Evans, past the soft exterior and the fiery red hair into the scorching personality to match. The biting sarcasm, the sharp awareness. The one that, quite frankly, only James Potter could also bring out in her. That is, when he peeved her off enough.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” she shot back, an eyebrow raised. Lily had an incredible, superhuman control over her eyebrows, like they were separate entities on her face. Remus had no idea how she did it.
“Could’ve guessed that,” Remus said. “You hang out with us. Why would you wanna be popular anyway, Pete?”
Peter seemed to shrink into himself a bit, shrugging shyly. Remus and Lily exchanged a look. Peter, admittedly, had a harder time in school than the pair of them. Although not nearly as affable and gorgeous as Lily, Remus at least had the benefit of being quiet and semi-handsome enough for the bullies to mostly leave him alone. He was judged as less the weird type and more the quiet type. Peter, however, had none of Remus’s benefits. He truly wasn’t bad looking, not really, but he had a pudginess around his waistline that made him an easy target for bullies, along with a chatty, socially awkward demeanor. Where Remus would rarely interact with others or even answer attempts at friendships from other students, Peter would answer with too much enthusiasm, talking and talking until the potential friend became bored or weirded out by him and walked away.
It bothered Remus, and he knew it bothered Lily as well. Peter didn’t have the best grades, or the best social skills, but Remus thought he was brilliant. He could listen to Peter talk passionately for hours.
That was, about anything but this topic of conversation.
“Sirius and James- they’re so cool!” Peter said finally. “Nobody ever makes fun of them! If we could be their friends, think of how easy it’d be for us.”
“Pete, you shouldn’t want to be friends with people because they increase your social status or whatever,” said Lily. She had scooted over on Peter’s bed to sit right next to him, her shoulder bumping against his. “You should want to be friends with them because you like spending time with them.” She smiled softly. “Which, by the way, is why I’m friends with you guys.”
Remus had to return the smile, despite his foul mood. He loved Lily Evans.
Her fiery eyebrows lowered into a mischievous expression. “But it sounds like Remus does like spending time with Sirius…”
And she’d ruined it.
“I do not!” Remus shouted. Then, became abruptly aware of how loud he’d yelled it and the way his cheeks were burning and jumped up from his bed. He did not need to be made fun of any more by the pair of them, who were on top of each other giggling like maniacs on Peter’s bed. He gathered his backpack and slung it over his shoulder in a hurry, speed walking for the door.
“I don’t!” he hissed over his shoulder at the doorway, though it likely wasn’t heard over the laughter. Merlin, those two. If anyone was obsessed with Sirius Black, it was them.
---
The full moon that night had been so rough that he was in a terrible mood the next day. One of those moods where every little thing just seemed to get to him. Peter had taken one look at him, the newfound scratches on his face, the furrow of his brows and his sharp, annoyed movements as he dressed himself, mumbling curses at every small inconvenience, and elected not to engage with Remus at all. Not even to ask about how the full moon had gone. Remus’s foul mood had seemingly answered that question.
Thank Merlin. Remus loved Peter but could absolutely not handle his nagging that day.
Unfortunately for him, he had muggle poetry, and Sirius’s personality could be quite like Peter’s at times, chatty and oblivious. Remus prayed that Sirius was able to read Remus’s mood as Peter had. He only wanted to be left alone.
Sirius was uncharacteristically early that day. When he saw the jet-black hair and similarly colored robes already crouched in the seat beside his upon entering the classroom, Remus realized that it was the first time he’d actually arrived to class after Sirius, the first time he’d really observed him from behind like this. His robes were wrinkly, and his posture was excessively casual, almost in a forced way. Absolutely none of the typical Black haughtiness evident in it. Remus suddenly wondered how his back looked to Sirius when he entered the class in his typical lateness, and made a note to check the back of his robes and hair every day before leaving.
As Remus lowered himself into his usual seat, quiet, with none of the drama of Sirius’s arrivals, Sirius leapt to a greeting almost immediately. “Hey, I was- your face!”
Remus had turned to face him halfway through, exposing the newfound scratches that his glamour charms had apparently not sufficiently hidden. He felt his cheeks pinken at the expression and directed his gaze straight down at the table, hoping that his messy hair was doing at least a decent job at hiding his skin.
“I mean, uh- no offense, man. Really.”
Sirius sounded nervous- horrified, even- and it was such a departure from his usual confidence that Remus couldn’t resist sneaking a glance, tilting his head just the tiniest bit to observe him through his hair. He was satisfied to see Sirius blushing just as heavily as he’d been- maybe even more- running a nervous hand over his black waves.
He hoped that the awkwardness of the moment was enough to deter Sirius for the rest of the class. His legs were aching from the night before, the fresh scratches still stinging on his face, and Sirius’s comment had only added to it. Why had he even come to class? He should have just stayed in his room for the day.
There was a new photo on the board today, beneath the album covers. It was a large group of teenagers, about the same age as their class, standing in a group with their arms around each other, nudging each other, huge grins on their faces as they laughed like a group of old friends.
Something about the photo made Remus’s heart ache. Perhaps it was his terrible mood, or simply the way the students all seemed so comfortable, each interacting with all the others, laughing like each of them was equally close with each other. Lily and Peter were the only two people Remus could say he had that sort of connection with, and he was usually perfectly satisfied with that state of affairs. However, sometimes…
Sometimes, he wished he could be happy with a huge group of friends like the kids in that photo. Sometimes, in his most foolish moments of weakness, when he walked through the Gryffindor common room as parties were going on, as students jumped up and down and took shots and laughed and sang and danced without a care in the world, Remus felt a deep, burning envy. A stupid desire to get up there and dance with them. Like Sirius did.
But every time he’d walk right through the crowd into his own room, flop down on his bed and crack open a poetry book. And he was fine with that. Most of the time.
“Does anyone know who these people are?” Professor Keating asked, gesturing to the photo.
This was usually the time that Sirius broke through the silence to volunteer an answer, sometimes correct, sometimes intentionally absurd, as Sirius himself was, but this time, Sirius sat still and quiet. Professor Keating gave him an analytical gaze, like he’d been expecting something from him.
It was obviously a photo of Professor Keating’s own Hogwarts class, but Remus did not need to draw any attention to himself. Especially not today.
Without Sirius to break the tension, Professor Keating answered his own question. “That is my class.”
A few snickers and whispers sounded up in the class, students trying to locate the young Professor Keating in the photo. Remus himself had already. He was on the end of the line, grinning and laughing with a blonde boy with glasses. The laughter in the photo, along with the giggles and whispers of the students around him, made Remus want to bury his head into his arms and cover his ears.
“Look at them,” Professor Keating said, drawing the attention back to his present self. “They're not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you.”
Remus wanted to scoff at this. He, like any normal person, did not think himself destined for any sort of significance. Unfortunately, here, he was in the minority. It was a great delusion that hung over this school, that made every student who stepped into it view themselves as a future hero destined for history books and fairy tales. Probably all those stupid legends about Merlin and Godric Gryffindor and such.
He glanced at Sirius, who was hanging onto the professor’s every word, eyes glimmering.
“Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see, gentlemen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you.”
A few students glanced at each other.
“Go on, lean in,” said the professor.
A few nervous whispers.
Of course, Sirius was the first to actually obey, leaning across the table with his ear directed toward the front, staring at the professor like he’d hung the moon. Merlin, these people.
Slowly, the rest of the class followed suit, sticking their heads out over their tables, some half-standing up out of their seats to get as close to the front as possible. Hanging over their tables, the students exchanged confused glances, awaiting whatever it is they were supposed to be listening for. Sirius attempted to catch Remus’s eye. He avoided it, though he didn’t know why.
Then, suddenly, a youthful whisper emanating from the photo-
“Carpe Diem.”
It sent a chill down Remus’s spine, so quiet but somehow so clear in his ears. The professor stood at the front of the room, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Remus wondered how he’d managed to pull it off without a wand.
“You hear it?”
The students nodded, enraptured.
“Seize the day, kids. Make your lives extraordinary.”
---
Any lingering awkwardness with Sirius from their interaction at the start of class seemed to have, unfortunately, dissipated by the end. The moment Remus had stepped out of the room, beelining for his room, Sirius was hot on his heels.
“Remus!” he exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.
All Remus wanted to do was flop down on his bed and sleep this terrible day away, so he blatantly ignored Sirius, thinking that perhaps Sirius would take it as annoyance over the face comment from earlier and leave him alone. Sirius was like a puppy sometimes, an oversized black dog following him around, and sometimes the only way to stop his yapping was to pretend he wasn’t there.
This time, it wasn’t working.
“He is the best professor I’ve ever had,” Sirius gushed. “I mean, really. Have you ever had a professor like that? Come on!”
Remus shrugged. He liked the professor, but he wasn’t terribly impressed with his speech earlier, nor with Sirius’s annoying behavior. He was still recovering from the terrible full moon and every word from Sirius felt like a knife being shoved into his brain. He just wanted to go back to his room.
“Hey, Remus,” Sirius said. He tapped Remus’s arm. The pressure felt like he’d hit it with a hammer. “Remus. Hey, are you mad about what I said about your face?”
He was mad about everything, not just Sirius, but he didn’t want to get into any sort of conversation at the moment and certainly didn’t want to turn around to see whatever earnest sincerity was glimmering in Sirius’s silver eyes. “No,” he mumbled.
“I kinda feel like you are, though,” Sirius said. “I’m honestly sorry. It just surprised me. It doesn’t even look bad. You have a nice face.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Sorry, that was dumb. I’m just- can you-”
Sirius’s bony fingers clamped around Remus’s arm in an attempt to stop his speed walking, and that, on top of every other little thing that was pissing Remus off at the moment, was just too much. He ripped his hand out of Sirius’s grip and whirled around to face him, so suddenly that Sirius took a stumbling step backward.
“Merlin, do you ever shut the fuck up?” he snarled.
Sirius was taken completely aback by the outburst, eyes blown wide, rambling words dead on his open lips. He was quite a bit shorter than Remus, a fact that had only become apparent with Remus standing right before him like this. He stared at Remus in shock for a moment or two, oblivious to the few people walking through the hallway who were giving them sideways glances. Then, his gaze flickered to the right of Remus, someone behind him.
Remus turned to follow Sirius’s eyes and found James Potter rounding the corner.
Shit.
James’s grin at seeing Sirius faded the moment he took in his kicked-puppy expression, the way Remus was towering over him. His bespectacled eyes settled on Remus with a glare so intense that Remus suddenly felt an intense pity of Severus Snape. It had only been two seconds but being the object of James Potter’s ire was an excessively frightening experience. He took a step back from Sirius, who now looked nervous.
“What’s going on?” James asked, sidling up to Sirius’s side
Before Remus could scan his empty mind for an answer, Sirius jumped in.
“Nothing,” he said. “I was just asking Remus about the homework.”
James frowned at Remus skeptically, then turned back to Sirius with a softened expression.
“Really?” he asked.
Sirius seemed to have shaken the moment off. He shrugged, planting on a crooked smile that was actually pretty convincing. “Yeah, no big deal,” he said. “Right?”
His gaze settled on Remus.
“Yeah,” Remus said.
“See?” Sirius turned back to his best friend.
James still looked like he wanted to murder Remus, but without anything to be rightfully angry about, he seemed to deflate.
“Come on,” Sirius said, shoving James forward. As the duo walked off with the rest of the crowd in the hallway, Sirius turned briefly to address Remus one more time. “Sorry, Remus.”
The tone was casual enough for it to be a throwaway apology for bothering him, but the look in his eyes conveyed a far deeper guilt.
And wow, didn’t Remus feel like a proper git as he watched Sirius’s black waves disappear down the hallway.
---
His foul mood of the day had turned even fouler after his interaction with Sirius. Now he’d been a monster two times this week, he thought, first on the full moon, and then in the hallway, snapping at Sirius for no good reason, making him freeze in his tracks with that distressed expression on his face. And somehow that one felt so much worse.
He ruminated on the moment, laying on his bed, David Bowie blaring through his walkman headphones. He had listened to Aladdin Sane three times through when he felt the weight on his bed shift a little, and a light tap on his legs. He pushed himself up on his arms to see Lily sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Missed you at dinner.”
Remus glanced around. The room was empty aside from her, which he was secretly grateful for. He could not deal with Peter at the moment.
Lily, with her freakish sixth-sense for people’s feelings, seemed to immediately detect Remus’s guilt. “What’s wrong?” she asked, brows furrowed in concern.
Remus couldn’t find the energy to lie, and certainly not to her. “I yelled at Sirius,” he said.
A pause.
“You what?”
“I was having a terrible day, and he was annoying me, and… yeah. I asked if he ever shut the fuck up.”
Lily was looking at him with a frankly adorable expression of shock, eyebrows practically at her hairline, her mouth wide open. The corners of her lips quivered like she was fighting a smile.
“What’s so funny?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, just- you yelled at him? Like, there were people around?”
Remus groaned. The embarrassment of the moment seemed to be crashing all around him. He covered his face with a hand. “James was there,” he said, his voice muffled by the hand.
“James was there???”
Remus glanced up at her. She wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement anymore.
“You don’t have to laugh at my humiliation,” he said.
This only provoked more laughter. “How did James not kill you?”
“Sirius covered for me,” said Remus. “He said I was just asking about homework or something stupid like that.”
“Aww,” Lily grinned. “That’s so sweet of him.”
“It’s not sweet!” Remus said. “It’s terrible, because now I’m a total arsehole who yelled at a guy who was just being nice to me.”
“Remus,” Lily said placatingly. “I think if Sirius knew what you’d been dealing with last night, he’d be pretty understanding about it. Don’t beat yourself up.”
Remus groaned again. “Well, how am I supposed to make up for this?”
“Just apologize!”
The thought of seeking out Sirius and apologizing to his face was mildly horrifying to Remus. He didn’t think he could bear to look into those eyes again. He hated confrontation. But there was another reason, too, one that was a better excuse.
“What, just go apologize with all his friends right there listening? With James right there listening?”
“Apologize in class!”
“With the whole class right there listening?”
Lily sighed. “Right, okay. If you insist on being antisocial about it… give him something.”
“Give him something?”
“Yeah. An apology gift.”
Remus gestured around the room, to his very small, very limited collection of possessions. “Like what? I don’t have anything!”
“You have all those poetry books! You’re in a poetry class! Give him one of those.”
“This is stupid,” said Remus, shaking his head. The idea of giving this boy, who he barely knew and had just yelled at in the hallway, a gift, was far too vulnerable of an action. “How am I even supposed to know what kind of poetry book he’d want?”
As the question left his mouth, his interaction with Sirius a few days earlier came back to him, Walt Whitman being his favorite poem, asking if he knew where to get any Whitman books. Saying he wanted to read more of him. And suddenly, he knew exactly what to give Sirius. Something he would absolutely love.
“But…” he scrambled for another excuse not to do it. “When am I supposed to give it to him?”
Lily smirked. She hadn’t even had to answer his question about which book, and must have realized that he’d come up with the answer on his own. “That’s the best part,” she said, grinning, relishing in the brilliance of her own plan. “You don’t even have to face him to do it. Just leave it on his pillow. You could go in there right now. I bet he’s at dinner.”
“Well, what if James is in there?” said Remus. “He wants to kill me now.”
Lily smirked and tossed a red lock behind her shoulder, green eyes glinting mischievously. “That’s where I come in.
---
“This is so stupid,” Remus mumbled to Lily, clutching the book to his chest as they approached Sirius and James’s room.
“No, it’s not,” said Lily. “He’ll love it. It’s perfect.”
They reached the door, a little golden name plate attached labeling it, J. Potter, S. Black. Below that, carved into the wood with messy handwriting, were the words, PRONGS + PADFOOT!! The Potters were sure to get fined for that one when McGonagall noticed it during room checks.
Remus frowned and turned back to Lily. “Prongs and Padfoot?”
She shrugged. “Boys,” she said. “Go on, knock.”
Remus shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath, silently praying that Sirius wouldn’t be there. It was a nice gift, he knew, but if he had to physically look Sirius in the eyes when handing it to him, he’d die of embarrassment. It was too much.
His mind was a chorus of please don’t answer, please don’t answer, as he knocked on the door. He was never going to live this down.
For a few seconds, he thought he was in the clear. Then, just as he was about to go for the knob himself, the door swung into the room to reveal James Potter.
Remus couldn’t help but glance behind him. What he presumed to be Sirius’s bed was empty, thank Merlin. He wasn’t thrilled to see James, but at least he wouldn’t have to face Sirius. He and Lily had at least planned for James’s presence.
James, for one, was equally unhappy to see Remus. “You,” he growled.
Remus had to admit, he was a little impressed by the loyalty that seemed to exist between James and Sirius. James seemed about ready to kill Remus after having witnessed one slightly negative interaction between them. He wondered if Lily or Peter would do that for him.
James continued, his eyes narrowed at Remus in a glare. “Do you have some kind of problem with Sirius, because I swear to Merlin-”
“Hey, Potter.”
The words died in James’s throat as he took in the figure behind Remus. The shift in his demeanor was almost hilarious- his frown disappeared immediately, cheeks flushing, hands flying up to smooth down his hair and adjust his glasses. From a protective brother to a lovestruck teenage boy. Which was exactly what he was.
His gaze was darting about nervously, his feet shifty beneath him. He threw his arm out to awkwardly lean on the door frame. “Lily! Er, hey, how you doing?”
It was so earnest, so different from his cocky winks and flirtatiousness in the hallways that Remus could tell Lily was almost charmed by it. Almost.
“Y’know, Remus feels really bad about earlier today,” Lily said. “He wanted to give something to Sirius to make up for it. He was hoping to talk to him-” lie- “but since he’s not here, maybe he can just leave it on his bed.”
James’s gaze turned skeptical again as he shifted it back to Remus. “What is it?”
“Er, a book,” said Remus.
James stared at the book uncertainly, like it was going to somehow harm Sirius.
“Come on, James,” said Lily. “He feels really bad about it.”
James practically melted under her gaze. Remus could hardly blame him. He’d been on the other side of those emerald eyes more times than he could count.
“Well, alright,” James said, moving aside to allow Remus into the room.
It was, predictably, a mess, laundry, robes, and books scattered about the ground like a war zone. One side, however, was clearly Sirius’s, instantly recognizable by the David Bowie posters (which, Remus surmised, he’d been able to salvage from his room at home after the incident with his mother). There was an obscene amount of lewd posters and magazine covers plastered to the walls and ceilings, most of them with women and breasts at the forefront, but a few, two in particular, featured shirtless men in similarly suggestive positions. David Bowie and Jim Morrison. Remus tried not to think too hard about this particular observation.
There were a few eyeliner pencils and crayons on the dresser, some empty bottles of alcohol, a bic lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. Photos of him and his friends taped around the vanity mirror. James was featured in every single one of them, and nearly all the faces were familiar Gryffindors Remus had seen around the common room. The only people he didn’t recognize were a middle-aged couple, standing in a photo with James and Sirius. James’s parents, Remus presumed. There were no photos of Sirius’s parents, nor his brother. His blood brother, at least.
He turned back to the bed, unmade, maroon sheets rumpled, the comforter kicked all the way down so that it hung off the edge. He didn’t know where to place the book. The pillowcase was silky gold, giving the bed a Gryffindor colour scheme, and had a tiny discolored stain on the bottom corner. Remus wondered, with a little smirk, if Sirius drooled in his sleep. He found the thought slightly endearing.
In the end, he leaned the book against the pillow, halfway upright so Sirius could read the title when he came in.
He returned to the doorway, interrupting James’s fumbled attempts at conversation with Lily, who had furrowed her brows like she was unimpressed but wore a hint of a smile on her rosy lips.
James didn’t even address Remus as he slipped past.
“Well, we’ll be going now,” Lily told James, interrupting him mid-sentence.
“Oh!” James said. “Well, okay. See you soon. Er- not like I’ll be looking for you or anything, more like, see you around-”
“Yeah, alright, bye!” Lily said, reaching past James to grab the doorknob and pull the door shut before he could continue his yapping. When the door was closed, and James’s talking had ceased, she turned to Remus and they shared an amused look.
“Boys,” she said, rolling her eyes.
They walked back through the common room in relative silence. Remus glanced over at Lily a few times to find her expression faraway, deep in thought.
Finally, halfway to Remus’s room, she said, “He’s so different when he’s not around other people, don’t you think?”
He couldn’t resist a smirk at the forced disgust in her voice.
When Remus returned to his room, he’d sit with Peter and Lily and gossip about James and his friends and slowly begin to forget the awful day he’d had.
And when Sirius returned to his room, he’d find Remus’s copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass sitting on his drool-stained pillow. And when he opened it to read, he’d find this message, scrawled into the inside cover in perfect cursive script:
Carpe Diem.
- Remus
“The gentleman of perfect blood acknowledges his perfect blood,
The insulter, the prostitute, the angry person, the beggar,
See themselves in the ways of him, he strangely transmutes them,
They are not vile anymore, they hardly know themselves they are so grown.”
-Walt Whitman, “Song of the Answerer”