The low hum of a guitar reverberated through the small studio, where empty takeout boxes and crumpled sheet music littered the floor. Sirius, sprawled out on the battered leather sofa with his fingers skimming lazily over his guitar strings, wore a grin that he never seemed to be without. The Marauders were in full-on brainstorming mode, trading riffs, beats, and lyrics in their usual chaotic way.
James Potter, the band's drummer and Sirius's best mate since the age of five, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring intently at the draft of 'Midnight Shadows' that Sirius had brought along for some adjustments. Peter Pettigrew, their bassist, was next to him, inspecting the draft with a raised eyebrow. But it was Remus, the band’s lyricist and rhythm guitarist, who caught sight of an old notebook that Sirius had stuffed into his guitar case.
"Sirius, what’s this?" Remus asked, pulling the crumpled notebook from the bag with a chuckle. “It looks ancient.”
“Oh, that?” Sirius shot up, a touch too quickly, and grabbed for the notebook. “Just some old ideas I was messing around with.”
“Yeah, like ‘Midnight Shadows?’” Remus teased, flipping open to the first page. He read aloud, “‘I see you in the dim light, a soft smile, shadows dancing on the walls. Every part of me aches to reach out, but I can’t let you know.’”
Remus’s voice trailed off as he processed the words, the smile fading slightly from his lips.
“Oh yeah, that’s the one!” James exclaimed, bouncing up from the floor. “Mate, you’ve said that song’s about that mystery girl you dated in school. Was she, like, an assassin or something? I mean, ‘every part of me aches to reach out?’ You really went all out on that, didn’t you?”
Sirius laughed, a little too forcefully, scratching the back of his head. “Something like that. You know how it is—writing makes things sound more intense than they really are.”
Remus’s eyes lingered on Sirius, his brow furrowing. Sirius’s songwriting was always intense, sure, but 'Midnight Shadows' was on another level. The song carried a rawness, a closeness that Remus had never quite understood. And this wasn’t the first time Sirius had acted strangely about it, evading questions and shrugging off any deep discussion.
Sirius, trying to change the subject, plucked out a riff on his guitar, something softer, almost wistful. His dark hair fell in front of his eyes, and Remus felt a strange pang in his chest watching him—an ache he’d buried for the longest time, convinced it was one-sided.
“So, you never told us about her, Pads,” James prodded, leaning forward with a grin that spelled trouble. “Who was this mystery girl, really? Or were you trying to get us all to swoon with some fantasy?”
“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Sirius rolled his eyes, laughing it off as he reached for the notebook and hastily closed it. “Just someone I had a crush on ages ago. It’s no big deal.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Crush? Mate, that song sounds like you were head-over-heels in love. Don’t tell us it was a crush. Were you hiding a whole love story from us?”
The question hung heavy in the air, Sirius’s silence louder than any denial.
Remus watched him, a thousand questions forming in his mind. Sirius had always been a mystery wrapped in confidence and mischief, but his eyes were softer now, his usual swagger replaced by a vulnerability that Remus hadn’t seen in years.
That night, after the others had called it quits, Remus stayed behind in the studio, saying he wanted to clean up. He couldn’t get 'Midnight Shadows' out of his head, nor the soft look in Sirius’s eyes as he’d played that wistful riff. Remus shuffled through Sirius’s crumpled notebook pages, hoping to find some kind of answer.
The draft was rough, unfinished lines crossed out and rewritten, but it was clearly a love song—a deeply personal one. And as he read through the verses, it hit him like a punch to the gut. These weren’t generic romantic lyrics. They were memories, moments he recognized.
The lyrics spoke of late-night talks, stolen glances across crowded rooms, whispered jokes on tour buses that only they understood. One line in particular stuck with him: “I see you bathed in light, every line of your face burned in my mind. But I stay silent, knowing it’s better this way.”
It was a scene he could remember, down to the exact moment. They’d been at a concert after-party, and he’d caught Sirius looking at him just like that. It was a look that had stayed with him, haunting him in quiet moments, though he’d always convinced himself it meant nothing.
But the more he read, the clearer it became. The song wasn’t about some mystery girl. It was about him.
The sound of a door opening behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Sirius standing there, his face a mask of poorly disguised panic.
“Moony, what’re you doing here so late?” Sirius’s voice wavered, his usual confidence faltering.
Remus held up the notebook. “You wrote 'Midnight Shadows' about me, didn’t you?”
Sirius’s face went pale, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Finally, he laughed—a hollow, strained sound. “What are you talking about? I told you, it’s just an old song about a girl.”
Remus crossed his arms, meeting Sirius’s gaze with a fierce determination. “The girl you wrote about watches horror films and orders greasy pizza at midnight? Spends hours talking music theory and sneaking out after curfew?” He paused, his voice softening. “That girl sounds an awful lot like me.”
Sirius exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping. “I… didn’t want you to know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was easier pretending it was just a song.”
“Easier?” Remus repeated, struggling to keep the hurt from his voice. “Sirius, do you have any idea how hard it’s been, watching you and pretending I didn’t feel the same?”
The words seemed to break something in Sirius. He dropped onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “I couldn’t risk losing you, Moony. If I told you, and you didn’t feel the same…”
Remus’s heart twisted as he crossed the room and sat beside him, his fingers brushing Sirius’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be afraid of that anymore,” he said softly.
Sirius lifted his head, his gray eyes wide and vulnerable, and Remus couldn’t help himself. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Sirius’s face before leaning in to press his lips to Sirius’s in a tentative, breathless kiss.
It was softer than Remus had imagined, yet somehow exactly as he’d hoped. Sirius melted into it, his hands finding their way to Remus’s back as he pulled him close, their breaths mingling in a quiet, unspoken promise.
After what felt like an eternity, they pulled back, and Sirius gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “I never thought I’d actually get to do that,” he whispered.
Remus smirked, his fingers tracing Sirius’s jaw. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
The next day, during rehearsal, the band noticed a certain glow about the two of them, though they didn’t say anything. James and Peter exchanged glances, clearly suspicious, especially when Sirius practically lit up at every small interaction with Remus. But it wasn’t until they were running through 'Midnight Shadows' that James finally spoke up.
“Sirius, I’ve been thinking…” James said, tapping his drumsticks thoughtfully. “That song of yours…are you sure it’s about some girl?”
Sirius stiffened, his gaze darting to Remus, who just gave him a small, reassuring nod. With a deep breath, Sirius finally said, “No. It’s about…well, it’s about someone I was too scared to lose. But I guess I don’t have to be anymore.”
James’s eyes widened, and he looked from Sirius to Remus with a knowing smile. “Well, it’s about bloody time.”
Peter groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, like we didn’t all already know.”
Sirius laughed, this time with a lightness that felt entirely new. He pulled Remus closer, his hand entwined with his, no longer afraid to show the world who the song had always been about. And as they played through the chorus, the notes blending together in perfect harmony, Sirius felt like he’d finally come home.