The Prettiest Star

Sirius and James sat heavily down at the Gryffindor table, beside Peter and Remus. They’d just finished their customary morning quidditch practice, and after a shower and a change of clothes, they were back for breakfast. It seemed to Sirius that James was waking him up earlier and earlier every day, and it was getting unbearable. By the time the winter months rolled around, Sirius was sure to be using his mornings as time to sleep in. Unlike James, he didn’t believe in sacrificing everything for quidditch; Sirius needed his beauty sleep. 

“Watch it!” admonished Moony, snapping Sirius out of his thoughts.

“What?” asked Sirius, reaching over him for a warm hot cross bun. Remus practically jumped out of his way, leaning as far back in his seat as he possibly could. 

“You’re dripping,” he seethed. Sirius pushed his long, wet hair over his shoulder, mumbling a half-hearted apology. 

“Why don’t you just dry it?” wondered Peter. 

“Because,” he explained tiredly, “It wouldn’t look good. It has to air-dry.”

“God forbid you have a bad hair day,” muttered Remus, and Sirius turned on him. 

“You take that back, Moons! I’ve never had a bad hair day in my life.”

“Your hair is gorgeous, always,” agreed James, trying to dissipate the tension. 

“Thank you,” huffed Sirius, and he turned expectantly to Remus, who was concentrating very intently on buttering his toast. Then, he looked up slyly, a hint of challenge in his hazel eyes. After a while, Sirius realised he wasn’t going to cave. He whipped his head around, purposely fast, so that the water in his hair would spray Remus, which only earned him more disgruntled admonishments. 

“What?” asked Sirius innocently, and he shook his head back and forth to send more drops of water flying. James held his hands up, and Peter leaned half under the table to hide from the shower of droplets, but it was Remus who caught the brunt of it. 

“Oh my god, you’re just like a dog!” hissed Moony, which sent all of them, even him, into a fit of laughter. He tried to catch hold of Sirius, to stop him from shaking his head even more, but Sirius slipped away, getting up. Standing over Moony now, he held up his inky black curls and wrung them out over the other boy’s head. “Sirius!” exclaimed Remus, who had gone rigid as the water ran through his hair and down his neck. Peter and James only laughed even more. 

“Your face!” wheezed James, clutching at his stomach. Sirius sat smugly back down, and helped himself to another hot cross bun. Moony glared daggers at all of them. 

Just then, Sirius spotted Dorcas on her way over to their table, making a beeline for Marlene. He stood abruptly back up, and she looked over, catching his eye. Before he could ask, she shook her head gently at him. 

Oh, he thought stupidly. 

“What’s going on, Pads?” asked James quietly. Sirius sat back down, returning his gaze to his friends. Peter and James weren’t laughing anymore, and Remus had stopped staring his daggers, his eyes full of concern instead. 

“It’s nothing,” he told them all. His voice sounded tired, like a long sigh. He poured himself some pumpkin juice and sipped on it in a weak effort to distract himself. 

“Are you sure?” pressed James. Sirius looked away, avoiding those penetrating brown eyes.

“Yeah,” he lied. James didn’t pursue the matter any further, though Sirius could tell he dearly wanted to, those nervous, brown eyes flicking back to him for the rest of breakfast. 

***

The day that followed was grey and boring. The blank, white skies seemed to bleed the colour from all of Hogwarts, and Sirius found a miserable mood setting into his weary bones.  

Regulus hadn’t been at breakfast at the same time as the Marauders, but he’d been in the Great Hall at lunch, sitting at the Slytherin table from where he was resolutely ignoring his brother. Sirius knew Regulus had seen him, because several of his friends had been staring openly between them, and even pointed. That creepy blonde girl had even seemed to be looking right into Sirius’ eyes, until eventually he gave up trying to catch Reg’s attention. 

Classes had been full of NEWTs work. They’d begun content revision in Defence Against the Dark Arts, in order to ‘consolidate knowledge’. Sirius didn’t understand why they had to spend so much time doing things they already knew, not when there was heaps of new content they needed to learn, but it wasn’t exactly up to him, and besides, it meant the class was considerably easier than usual. But today, despite the simplicity of the defensive spells they were tackling, his magic was just as dull as the plain sky. 

He resigned himself to sitting quietly at the back of the class (very unusual behaviour coming from him; Sirius was never quiet). He took out some parchment and a quill and began to scribble idly, resting his head on his free hand. 

He traced the familiar lines of his name with his long feather quill. Sirius Orion Black, With a sigh, he slumped down to rest his arm and head on the table, hastily crossing out Orion Black with a thick, decisive line. 

He chewed on the end of his quill, before dipping it in the inkwell. Sirius Potter he wrote underneath in sprawling calligraphy. It made him smile a little. He was sure James would encourage it, and maybe even Effie and Fleamont would like it. But it was silly, so he crossed that out too. 

He looked over the class and spotted Remus in the midst of practising stunners on a dummy. 

His quill rested against the paper as he daydreamed. He dipped it in the ink again and outlined the name Sirius Lupin. His hand stopped on the n as he realised what he was writing. He blushed, but didn’t cross it out. Sirius Lupin. He rather liked the sound of that. He stared down at the curling letters. 

“What are you up to?” asked Remus. Sirius started, jolting up straight and balling the paper in his hand. He must have come over while he wasn’t looking. 

“Nothing!”

Remus slid into the seat next to his.

“And here I was thinking you might be taking notes for once,” he mocked, knocking shoulders with Sirius. 

“Never,” he seethed, stuffing the parchment forcefully into his pocket. 

***

Finally, after all his tiresome classes were finished, the day still wasn’t over for him, because Sirius had his careers meeting with McGonagall. He’d actually been meant to have it the year before, but he’d avoided and avoided the dreaded conversation until, finally, he had wriggled his way out of it altogether. Or so he’d thought, until she had scheduled another for the start of term. Sirius had half-considered skipping this one too, but Moony had given him a stern reminder that ‘it would have to get done eventually’ and Sirius ‘couldn’t avoid it forever’. 

So that was how he found himself knocking begrudgingly on McGonagall’s office door, when all he really wanted to do was go to bed and feel sorry for himself. 

“Come in,” came her thickly accented voice. Sirius pushed the heavy wood door open and stepped inside. “Ah, Sirius,” she greeted, looking almost surprised, “I’m glad you could finally make it, take a seat.”

He did as she said, sitting on the chair opposite her desk. 

“Shall we begin?” she suggested primly. Straight to the point, as always. 

Sirius paused, and then a mischievous smile curled his lips. “Can I have a biscuit?” he asked. It was a joke he and James liked to play on her sometimes, whenever one (or both) of them was in her office. 

“No, you may not,” she frowned, though he knew her well enough to see that she was hiding a smile, “Had you attended the first meeting I set up for you, I might have considered it.”

“Oh,” he said guiltily, “Sorry about that.”

“You’re here now,” she replied, “So, let’s begin.” He nodded his assent, and she folded her hands over the desk. “Though you have already submitted your course applications, you still have not decided on a career. Did you have one in mind when you made your decisions?”

“Oh yes,” he lied confidently, “I’m thinking of being a mandrake farmer.”

McGonagall raised an impervious eyebrow. 

“Considering you didn’t sign up for Herbology, I find this difficult to believe.”

“Right. Well what I really want is to be a contortionist in the circus.”

“Sirius,” she began tiredly. 

“Or I could be a muggle rockstar, really stick it to Mum and Dad, you know?”

“You don’t play any instruments I’m aware of—

“I’ll sing,” he winked (he was a truly atrocious singer, but she didn’t know that).

“Hmm,” McGonagall replied doubtfully. He was about to open his mouth and say he wanted to be a crocodile wrestler, or a cowboy (without guns, of course) when she said something else. “It’s perfectly alright for you not to know what you want to do, Sirius.”

His mouth snapped shut, and he struggled to think of a response. Because that was just it; he didn’t know what he wanted to do. And really, with Alphard’s inheritance, he didn’t have to do anything. So what was the point? 

“Why don’t we begin with what you want in general for your future, and we’ll see if we can find you a career that will get you there.”

“Alright,” he swallowed, somewhat sobered. 

“Is there anything in particular you want for yourself? Anything you dreamed of, even when you were younger?” 

Yes. Yes, there was something he’d dreamed of ever since he could remember; to leave. To run away. To escape Grimmauld House. 

“I’ve already done it,” he realised, “My dream, I’ve already achieved it.” 

“Surely you have others,” smiled McGonagall. 

Sirius wracked his brains, but couldn’t think of anything. What did he want? He hadn’t really thought much further than leaving his family. It was such a big step that everything beyond it was… blank. 

“I s’pose it’d be nice to have my own house,” he mused, “Or flat. You know, my own place.” 

“That’s a start.” 

“I just want to hang out with my friends, and have fun.” And make up with Reg, he thought to himself. 

“I’m sure you’ll be doing lots of that, but your friends will have their own jobs. What will you do when they’re busy?” 

“Dunno,” mumbled Sirius, “Go to the cinema or something?” 

She raised an eyebrow again, and he realised how stupid he sounded. He needed his own things, his own dreams. If he waited around for the Marauders all day he’d be no better than Pete, trailing behind the group all the time. And that surely wouldn’t be very fun. 

“What about your interests?” wondered McGonagall. 

“Er, I like… music. Muggle music. And muggle fashion. And motorbikes.”

“Then perhaps a job in the muggle world might be more fitting for you?”

Sirius pondered the idea. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, really considering it, “That could be cool.” 

“I would recommend speaking with your Muggle Studies Professor,” she told him, “Or even Mr Lupin might be able to help you out. There are plenty of muggle jobs you could do, even without a muggle degree.” 

“Alright,” he smiled, “I’ll do that.” 

“Please do,” she replied fondly, then after a pause “That will be all, Sirius.” 

“No biscuit?” he teased, but her stern expression was enough to give him the answer. With a grin, he bid his farewell and left to go up to the dorm. 

***

That night, once everyone’s lights were out, and their curtains were drawn, Sirius crawled into Remus’ bed. 

“Can I sleep here?” he whispered shyly. They hadn’t done it in a while, not since they’d gotten older, but Sirius still remembered when it was every other night in their first year. He hadn’t been used to sleeping alone, and Remus had let him do it, because he always obliged Sirius. 

“Of course,” Remus whispered back. Sirius smiled, still feeling shy, and shuffled under the covers. Moony had a book in hand, and a small orange fire flickering in a jar to give him some light. The shadows danced across the heavy drapes that surrounded them, and Sirius felt impossibly warm. “You alright?” Remus asked, putting down his book. 

“I don’t know,” replied Sirius honestly. He took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. He looked over at Moony, and smiled at him. “Better now.” Remus looked bashfully away. 

“I’m glad,” he said quietly. He glanced over, and they shared another smile. 

“Do you want to know what happened this morning?” asked Sirius. 

“If you want to tell me.”

Sirius drew the covers further up, so that they were under his chin. 

“I want to,” he decided. Remus nodded understandingly and cast a silencing spell. 

“Was it… Was it something to do with Regulus?” he wondered. Sirius nodded. 

“I asked Dorcas if she could talk to him,” he explained, “Just to tell him that I wanted to make up, but it didn’t work.” 

Remus reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze, and Sirius felt warmth bloom in his chest.

“Maybe I should have told him myself,” he mused, “Written him a letter or something… I don’t know.” 

“It’s not as if you can’t keep trying,” Remus pointed out. He still hadn’t withdrawn his hand, and his thumb had started to slowly caress Sirius’ arm. 

“Yeah,” agreed Sirius, feeling put out, “It’s just… I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“I know,” said Remus softly. He slid down in the bed to lie next to Sirius, face-to-face, with only a few inches between them. It made Sirius’ stomach flutter. 

“Sometimes…” Sirius looked furtively between Remus’ hazel eyes and the blanket. “Sometimes I feel so angry with him,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, “Why won’t he talk to me? Why can’t he just… How could he ask me to stay in that house?” He screwed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. “I couldn’t stay there, they might’ve… Well, you know how they are about Voldemort, and I’ll be of age soon. But he doesn’t understand! It’s not… It’s him that wouldn’t come with me!”

“It’s not your fault,” said Remus, for the second time. 

“Yes, it is!” insisted Sirius, his insides twisting with guilt. 

“It’s not your fault you grew up in that house.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. 

“Regulus will come round,” whispered Remus, “I promise.” 

Sirius believed him, because it was Remus. Remus was smart, he knew about these things. Sirius could trust him. He did trust him. 

He leaned forward, and captured Moony in a bone crushing hug. 

“What would I do without you?” he sniffed. 

“You’d probably be in permanent detention,” chuckled Moony. Sirius drew back, letting himself laugh at that too. 

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “What about you, Moons,” he asked, “You alright?” 

“Yeah, all good,” smiled Remus, then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Better now.” 

Sirius smiled so wide he thought his face might split. Remus’ hand was still on his shoulder, and he gave it one more squeeze before retracting his touch. 

“Good night, Pads,” he whispered. 

“Good night Moony,” he returned. Remus extinguished the little fire and turned over to go to sleep. Sirius looked up at the canopy of his bed. His eyes didn’t stay there for long, though, wandering over to the boy beside him. He couldn’t help it. He never could, these days. 

“Thank you,” he said, so quiet he barely even heard it himself. 

“Of course,” Remus mumbled back, as if it were the easiest thing in the world to help Sirius with his troubles. As if it was only natural.

And that was when it hit Sirius, with all the force of the Knight Bus at full speed; he was irrevocably, completely and incorrigibly in love with Remus Lupin. 

And he had no idea what to do about it.