Like a Moth to Flame

Like a moth to flame, Remus Lupin had been Sirius Black’s light. From the very first day they met Sirius had been drawn to him.

Remus had been different from Sirius in every way: his hair light and tawny where Sirius’s was dark black, Remus’s hair shaggy and home cut and Sirius with neatly cropped hair done by a professional regularly; No more than a loose pompadour was allowed for Walburga Black’s boys. Remus’s clothes were worn and torn, patched in many places with a careful needle of a loving mother. While clearly hand made and a little lumpy, Sirius found himself staring at it with adoration throughout the entire train ride to Hogwarts their first year. It was imperfect, but beautifully so: the armpits were too big, the colors didn’t change exactly how they should, and there was a spot on Remus’s left sleeve where Sirius could tell its creator ran out of the color they were using and had to finish it with scrap. Sirius had never been so enamored with an object before: a patchwork tapestry of love and dedication, handmade over hours to keep this boy warm. And it was worn proudly by Remus, a visual reminder to anyone he meets that he is loved. Sirius wondered what that must feel like. All the cashmere in his wardrobe could never compare, it could never keep him as warm and soft as that homemade jumper would.

Remus had looked surprised that first day when Sirius emptied out his pockets and offered to buy James and Remus and Peter whatever they wanted from the snack trolley. He was taken aback when Remus asked him if that was his plan for making friends. Sirius had never considered using his money to gain other’s favor as a bad thing before, how else was he supposed to get people to spend time with him? Remus was different from Sirius in every way, and Sirius couldn’t get enough.

When Sirius was sorted incorrectly, being placed with the boys he’d met on the train, he did his best not to look too upset. James and Peter didn’t notice the eyes of the upperclassmen across the great hall staring at him and whispering. Remus probably didn’t either, but he noticed that Sirius wasn’t alright. He told Sirius he was scared to be here too. He didn’t fall asleep on the first night either. When Sirius was still up at the witching hour, trying his best to come up with an excuse or an explanation as to why he was sleeping in a tower and not a dungeon while failing to charm his robes green, Remus was up too. He let Sirius sit in his bed with him, he gave him some of the chocolates his mother had packed for the trip, and he let Sirius talk. He let Sirius ramble on at a significant pace about his family and how his mother would react to the sorting. Remus listened to Sirius’s anxieties about a howler in the morning, or a forced transfer to Beauxbatons or whatever other school would allow his parents control in exchange for their money. It was the first time Sirius had ever heard his family described as mean. It was the first time Sirius had been able to agree with the statement. Remus admitted to Sirius that he felt lucky just to be here, and he told Sirius that he was sorted into Gryffindor because he was brave and it takes courage to be different. Remus taught Sirius about muggle fairy tales that night. He read Sirius Jack and the Beanstalk, and Sirius went to bed feeling a little less afraid.

From that moment on, Sirius vowed to learn as much about his friends as possible so he could better understand them, so he could protect them. Remus was a half-blood. He was the first half-blood Sirius had ever met. Siruis asked to hear about how the Lupins met over a dozen times alone the first week he found that out. He’d gotten yelled at by Remus for it eventually, but how was Sirius supposed to know that was inappropriate? For all he knew, muggle/wizard relationships were practically illegal. Remus told his friends that his mother was sick and he would have to visit her sometimes. His mother had been the one who made him that sweater, the one with the lumpy armpits and shoddy color work. Her name was Hope and her biggest wish for Remus was that he would make friends. Sirius thought that was a ridiculous thing for a mother to want, who wouldn’t want to befriend Remus?

Like a moth to flame, Remus Lupin was Sirius’s light. It was Sirius who first noticed that Remus visited his mother after the full moons, and it was Sirius who first noticed how tired Remus was when he returned. While his first assumption of Hope or Lyall Lupin being a werewolf was incorrect, it was Sirius who noticed it first. It was Sirius who was concerned. It was Sirius who came up with a plan to help once he learned that Remus was the one with lycanthropy.

The books in the Black Family library had been a great help with their attempts at becoming animagi. While several books in the restricted section at Hogwarts were successfully pilfered by James and his cloak, Sirius was able to remain in his parents good graces by spending his breaks enthralled in the dark teachings they kept stowed away for kin only. They were so pleased that they didn’t notice how many tombs Sirius managed to copy, annotate, and send off to James for further development.

Sirius would never hurt Remus. His brotherhood was his family, they were the only thing that made being a Black tolerable. Remus was the best part of Sirius’s day and he was loyal to his friends. He would never, ever hurt Remus. Not intentionally.

He didn’t know why he had said it, why he told Snape how to find Moony. Sirius played through the scenario thousands of times in his head, but not once has he received any clarity on the matter.

He’d felt good in the moment. Snape wouldn’t actually figure out how to get the willow to freeze, he wouldn’t actually climb down there, he didn’t think Moony would hurt him. He was irritating but he wasn’t stupid. Sirius was the stupid one. Could he not have held his tongue?

Of course not. He was nothing more than an impulsive, reckless, dirty little shit.

Sirius would never hurt his Remus, except he had. He knew the risk of playing with fire but he never thought he’d get burned. Stupid Sirius. Now he’s no more than a moth with no wings. Still, with singed wings and no light to fly towards, Sirius can’t help but remember the warmth of Remus’s flame.