First Day
Sirius is awake, in somewhere other than his house, for the first time ever.
The sun filters in through the curtains, a light glow that sends shivers down his spine, unlike the bleak darkness that would greet him each morning at home, and he can hear chattering voices coming from the common room downstairs.
Before he can even begin to relish the feeling of not being woken up in his bedroom, however, James’s obnoxious yells cut through the silence as he throws apart the drapes and stops in his tracks when he notices Sirius staring up at him.
Obviously confused, James spins round to look at Sirius’s strangely empty bed, before he turns again to look him in the eye. Shrugging, he bounces away to bother Peter, leaving Sirius in shock, as he begins to realize whose bed he’s in and recall the events of the night before.
Suddenly, there’s a shuffling from behind him and Remus’s head appears from under the blanket, looking dishevelled and bleary-eyed. Sirius pauses to look at him and then smiles.
He grabs the pillow from behind him and hits Remus on the head. “Get up, sleepy, I need saving from James.”
Remus groans something that sounds suspiciously like, “Wanker,” and rolls over, which Sirius obviously has to take as a challenge, and he grabs a corner of the duvet, while Peter giggles, realising what Sirius is about to do.
Gathering all his strength, he whips the duvet off Remus, rolling over and wrapping it around himself before closing his eyes while Remus groans and swipes angrily at him, succeeding on knocking Sirius, who feels himself sliding off the bed and gives a pathetic attempt at grabbing the sheets, before he hits the floor with an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek.
James and Peter fall about laughing while Sirius grumpily unrolls himself from the blanket and flounces off to the bathroom to wash his face.
It somehow already feels like they’ve known each other for years. Sirius has learnt how James, at first sight, is loud and irritating, but underneath it all has a huge heart; and how Peter is passionate about muggle comics, but shy in front of others; and how Remus, forever polite and apologetic, is actually just as bad as Sirius, himself, though he pretends not to be. He hopes they’ll be friends for a long time to come.
Staring at himself in the irritatingly small mirror, (why the castle is so large, yet apparently can’t afford decent bathroom décor, he will never understand), Sirius feels his happy thoughts draining away as that familiar sense of dread settles in his gut.
You’re doing the right thing, he assures himself. You’re finally different from them. You’ve shown them you’re better. It doesn’t matter what they say, you know you’re where you belong. You’re ok, you’re out.
Talking to himself doesn’t help, though. He’s scared and he hates himself for it. He’s so afraid that his family will do something. They probably could, if they wanted to, and he’ll be taken away from these new people, who are quickly beginning to feel like home. He gets attached quickly, it’s one of his worst tendencies, and he already can’t bear the thought of having to leave his friends. But no Black has ever been in Gryffindor, and he’s sure to get punished.
He lets his hands find the familiar ridges on the sides of his stomach, tracing the scars that slice through his pale skin, hooking their way under his ribcage.
He was only six when he got those scars. He and Reg were getting ready for a family dinner and she had had to wear a dress. She had hated it.
Still, Sirius had thought the ruffles and the pale blue colour of it were beautiful. He was only small. He wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking at all.
It had been all over when Walburga had noticed him wearing it. It had only taken seconds, a quick flick of her wand, and then he was falling and screaming, dark red seeping through the expensive fabric.
He’d gotten another slash for ruining the dress with his blood. He didn’t even notice.
Afterwards, Walburga had told him that she loved him. He had believed her. He might believe her still, but he can never make himself like the colour blue, not anymore.
There’s a knock on the door. “Oi, Black, hurry up in there. Remus is up and he wants breakfast so get your arse out here quickly.” His friends, Sirius is sure he’s safe with them.
“Yeah, James, coming,” he drops his hands, and it’s as if the scars never existed. Shakily, Sirius opens the door.
***
Remus and Peter are already halfway out the dorm by the time Sirius and James emerge- James, swinging his arms and grinning, Sirius already complaining about that day’s lessons.
“Come on, History of Magic, on the first day! At least we have the entire afternoon to fly to make up for it. Charms better be good as well.”
Remus groans. He’s already heard enough about flying from James last night, when he finally took a break from interrogating Remus about Lily, despite Remus only having spoken to her for a couple of minutes; and he really doesn’t need another rant about Quidditch, which is apparently some sort of broomstick sport.
As predicted, James immediately starts speaking. He probably won’t stop for the next twenty minutes and that’s if they’re lucky.
“I still can’t believe first years aren’t allowed their own brooms!” he practically yells as the four make their way out of the common room. “It’s not fair! I bet I’m way better than most of the second and third years! Maybe even the whole school! And-”
James rambles on, as they all trudge their way to the Great Hall, taking their seats next to Lily and her friends, who seem to have acquired another member of their group during the night- a pretty, dark- haired girl, with grey eyes and doll- like skin.
“Hi Remus!” It’s Lily, of course.
“Hey,” he mutters as Lily pouts sympathetically across from him.
“Late night?” she asks, shooting an irritated glare at James, who opens his mouth to protest.
“I know I was up all night,” Mary groans, interrupting what was surely about to be another episode of James embarrassing himself, for better or for worse, Remus isn’t exactly sure. “I couldn’t find my sleeping bonnet and now my hair is an absolute mess.”
Remus doubts Mary could ever look like a mess, but he’s too tired to say anything, and anyway, Sirius has it covered.
---on one of Mary’s curls while she bats at his hand, smiling sweetly.
“Well, you can’t talk, Black. I hear you’ve never had a bad hair day in your life!” Mary grins.
“We all have our days, McDonald, even me,” Sirius says simply, turning to Remus’s plate and taking a piece of toast. “Oooh, this is so good, Remus! What’s on it?”
“Lemon curd,” he answers shortly, wondering if wizards don’t eat toast, or if Sirius’s family in particular is just too goo for life’s little pleasures. “And get your own plate, lazy.”
Sirius pouts- his signature look- and slings an arm round Remus’s shoulders. “But you always get the best food.”
Remus sighs and lets Sirius carry on sharing his food- it’s not as if he can do anything about it- and once they’ve all finished eating, they follow the girls to Charms.
The lesson following breakfast is actually more interesting than Remus could have expected.
He and Peter sit together, next to Sirius and James, who seem determined to irritate their professor as much as possible. His friends, Remus thinks, are insufferable.
Still, it’s better than yesterday, when Sirius seemed reluctant to reveal anything about himself and Remus barely spoke at all. They click- him, Sirius James and Peter- and it already feels like they’ve been friends for years. As long as none of the others find out about him, everything should be fine.
They are extremely smart though, almost too clever for their own goods, and if they get too close- well, Remus doesn’t want to think about that.
***
Flying- it’s the lesson Sirius has been looking forward to the most.
Ever since he was small, he’s dreamed of being able to fly, floating up through the clouds, away from home, finally free.
Of course, he’s not so passionate about it as James, who seems to live and breathe Quidditch, and was likely born of a broomstick, but he’s definitely more enthusiastic than Remus, who goes practically green at the sight of the Cleansweeps, and Peter, who enjoys the sport, but prefers to stay solidly on the ground.
After History of Magic, which is the most boring lesson probably ever to exist- Remus says it’s not that bad but he’s clearly been corrupted by Professor Binns- the Gryffindors and Slytherins in their year all gather round on the Quidditch pitch, each with a broomstick at their feet.
James is telling everyone who’ll listen that he actually has a way better broom at home, while Lily glowers and Marlene- her shy, blonde friend- rolls her eyes, but Sirius has never been more excited as he pulls Remus into place next to him and everyone readies themselves for the lesson.
“Alright!” booms a stout, muscular witch with windswept, spiky hair. “Everyone hold out your right hand over your broom and say, up!”
This is the moment he’s been waiting for. James is practically vibrating by his side.
“UP!”
“And try again if you haven’t got it quite right yet!”
“UP!”
James’s broom flies to his palm and he grins ecstatically.
“Really show you mean it! Brooms can sense fear, children!”
“UP!”
Marlene is next to succeed, and she stares at the handle she’s gripping, wide eyed and confused at her success.
“UP!”
Sirius, Peter and a couple of other students’ broomsticks shoot into their hands and Sirius feels a stab of pride- how his mother would hate to see him now, all decked out in red and clutching a cheap broom.
“UP!”
More students shout out in joy.
“UP!”
Even more.
“UP!”
Remus’s broom gives a pathetic jump, and he turns red with embarrassment.
“UP!”
It suddenly shoots into the air, almost hitting him in the face before Sirius grabs it, holding it steady while Remus looks on in shock.
“Why are thereno safety regulations for this.” He hisses.
Sirius bursts out laughing.
“All right!” Comes the voice of Madam Hooch- their instructor. “Now, mount your brooms!”
Remus turns grey and Sirius feels a smirk blooming across his face. “Race you,” he whispers.
“Oh, fuck off.”
In his panic, Remus has lost all of his politeness and Sirius’s face splits into a grin.
“Alright,” he replies, climbing into his broom and taking a deep breath, before digging his heels into the ground and taking off.
“MR BLACK!” Madame Hooch screams from below. “COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!”
He ignores her.
“MR BLACK!”
James is whooping from down below; the early September wind is whipping his hair in a delightful way, and Sirius is already set up to disappoint his mother even more.
They didn’t get any mail this morning, since it way their first day and all, but he’s totally going to get a howler tomorrow.
It’s going to be a great week.
***
Of course, Remus has made friends with a bunch of complete idiots.
Sirius motherfucking Black has already got himself a detention, which he’s now dramatically blaming Remus for- as if it’s his fault the prick takes absolutely everything as a challenge- and James received a stern telling off for cheering him on.
At least Remus has the girls, who are much quieter, with the exception of Mary, and he, and Lily plan to spend the night together in the library, reading books- she tells him as they walk back from the Quidditch pitch that she has one he might like to read.
If he just ignores Lily’s strange hatred of James, and, by extent, Sirius, all his friends get on better than he ever imagined. That is, until dinner.
Remus knows that Sirius’s family is bad. That much is obvious. He sees it in the way Sirius closes up when they’re mentioned; in the way he hates the green of Slytherin with all his heart; the way he sometimes drifts off, a strange, pained loom on his face.
What Remus didn’t realise, however, was exactly how bad, and how famous, Sirius’s family are.
It all starts when Lily’s sour faced friend from the train walks over to their table.
Remus had spotted the two speaking during flying and he knows the boy was sorted into Slytherin but other than that, neither he or anyone he knows has spoken to him, so when he sees him approaching, Remus assumes he’s there to see Lily.
He isn’t.
Or rather, he is, but he ends up talking to Sirius, instead.
“Hello there, Black,” he sneers, placing a hand on Lily’s arm that causes James to let out a small, irritated sound.
“Alright,” Sirius replies, eyes narrowed.
“I’m just here to ask Lily if she wants to come and sit with me.”
“Alright,” Sirius growls again. “So, hurry up and ask her.”
The boy looks taken aback and Lily, sensing conflict, turns to him, eyes pleading and wary.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Severus; me and Marlene were just talking. You can always come over here if you want, though.”
Her tone is gentle and far too kind to address the sort of person Severus appears to be, but the Slytherin only scowls, clearly irritated by the way Sirius is looking at him, and Lily’s reluctance to comply.
“I’m not sitting with blood traitor filth,” he spits, now turning to address Sirius, himself. “Everyone knows you’re only in Gryffindor because you begged the Hat to be different, Black. How does it feel to be hated by your own family?”
Everyone around them gasps and Sirius lets out a snarl, seeming about to leap to his feet, before Remus places a hand on his shoulder. The last thing his new friend needs is another detention.
“I think you should go now, Snape,” Mary says, shoving Severus’s arm off Lily and replacing it with her own.
“Yeah,” Remus seconds, shocked at Snape’s outburst.
He had seemed like a git from the beginning, when he had been so rude on the train, but Remus had thought he was more of a quiet, slippery little git; not one who argued with Sirius Black, of all people.
Still, Lily has hit a nerve, it seems, and it’s with great relief that Remus watches Snape storm back to the Slytherin table, hands fisted, and nose furrowed in rage.
Sirius is still fuming, and Lily has tears in her eyes, so Remus decides it’s time for him to leave. He grabs Peter’s arm- the only one of his friends not boiling over with rage- and stands up.
“I think we’ll go to bed, now,” he mutters, and he and Peter walk out of the Hall, a devasted James and livid Sirius following them.
Remus gets the feeling that neither of them are going to let this go.