Sirius was behaving oddly. Or rather a different kind of odd than his time-worn, everyday brand of odd. When Remus woke up to the rosy dawn light filtering into the room he caught sight of Sirius staring very intensely at a very large tome. This in itself wasn’t odd; Sirius could be quite a voracious reader when the material might apply in even the obscurest of ways to his life’s purpose of “sticking it to Sniv”. What was odd was the way he let out an aborted little shout, cleared his throat to pass it off and surreptitiously tugged his covers up over the volume as soon as he noticed Remus looking his way.
“Alright Moons?” he said, Very Nonchalantly.
“Morning,” Remus said, deciding not to get involved. Newts were coming up anyways and if it did turn out that Slytherin house was going to wake up to find their underwear vanished or something that had every appearance of, but was in fact not, ejaculate graffitied across the walls of their common room, it would be much easier to pretend he knew nothing about it if he found out with the rest of the school.
“Yeah. Woke up early–and couldn’t fall back to sleep. You know how it is.”
“Yeh,” Remus said.
“Did you want to go to breakfast? Course it’s a bit early but I suppose you’ll want to run off to the library soon anyways. Big study day today isn’t it?”
“Mm,” Remus said, eyes already closing again.
…
When he next resurfaced, there was no sign of Sirius, and the quality of the light suggested it was much later in the day. He caught a waft of something wondrous and there, on his bedside table, was a platter of bangers and mash kept piping hot by Sirius’ doctored-up preservation charm. That was the thing about Sirius, he was quite brilliant when he wanted to be, so he could be forgiven the occasional lapse into oddness.
He dug in with one hand and with the other fumbled in his bag for a roll of parchment to start drafting out a thorough study plan for the week. Monday and Tuesday morning were dedicated to Charms (the former for firing out practice essays about spell theory –according to a loaded comment from Flitwick spell etymology and combination were well within the scope of material NEWT students were expected to have mastered and he was using it as a starting point of sorts and the latter to brush up on his wand work in preparation for the practical).
He tentatively penciled in the rest of Tuesday and the majority of Wednesday for Runes and Arithmancy which were sure to both tout especially daunting examinations; the only saving grace was that most of his revising over the past term revolved around those two subjects for precisely that reason.
Thursday was reserved for Defense Against the Dark Arts from start to finish because Thursday was his favorite day and Defense was his favorite subject. He knew he had a knack for the class, and he reasoned it would be the exact confidence boost he needed to tackle Potions (in all of its treacherousness) over the weekend (he shuddered at the very thought, but he wasn’t thinking about that now, no he wasn’t). He’d use the remaining part of the weekend to gloss over History of Magic as the rote memorization it required was best left for directly prior to the exam.
He was so absorbed in the lofty task of scheduling his revising that he didn’t notice Sirius until he was posed right at his shoulder. He was grinning with an almost mad glint in his eye. A prank was definitely forthcoming, then.
“Planning out your week?” he asked, eyes raking over the parchment. His smile widened marginally when he looked back up from it.
“Yeah,” Moony said, “How are you faring so far?”
“Who, me?” Sirius said, with a curious expression. “Oh, I'm doing just fine. You know me. I’ll scrape by. Always do, don’t I?”
This was a fact which Remus couldn’t deny, and he valiantly withheld a remark that such a fact just went to show that if Sirius really made an honest effort at it he could truly distinguish himself. There was no point, not when it had led to so many vicious arguments in the past that raged between them for days, across classrooms, corridors and dormitories, but ultimately petered out leaving them more sullen and dissatisfied than when they’d started.
The source of the conflict was that Remus held a measure of resentment for Sirius and even though it was unreasonable that he should, they both knew that he still did anyway. Because the thing was, Sirius was clever and meticulous at research when he wanted to be and there were no barriers in his way if he truly wanted to excel (he could go into any field of his choosing with enthusiastic recommendation, study with the top scholars in the Wizarding World). Not like Remus, for whom so many doors had already closed before he’d even been old enough to realize it; Remus who would always have to struggle for recognition and get by on the benefit of the doubt and the goodwill of others even though he was smart and hardworking enough that he shouldn’t have needed to. But it wasn’t fair to resent Sirius for not wanting the same things he did, he thought, even if he could have them so easily. His friends had already done so much for him; mastered magic far beyond their years just to spend full moons with him, he couldn’t ask them to on top of all of that exhaust themselves striving for success just so he could experience it vicariously through them.
“Just–just promise me you won’t leave it all till the last minute?” he said. He smiled at Sirius, so he knew that he’d said his piece and he wouldn’t push it.
Sirius smiled back and there was something complicated in it that Remus couldn’t quite discern. “Oh wouldn’t dream of it, Moony,” he said softly, and left Remus to his planning.
…
Sirius entered the dorm and Remus stifled a gasp. As a contrarian and Generally Insufferable Bastard, it wasn’t uncommon for Sirius to sport the after effects of the oftentimes numerous hexes with which he’d been waylaid over the course of a day. But there was an unspoken rule— anything but the hair. Now it was all puffed up, haloing around his pale face like a particularly abstract art exhibit.
“Your hair’s a little, er—it’s grim, mate," James said, astute as ever.
“Oh really, is it? Thank you so much for that Prongs. Reckon we’d all be lost without your helpful commentary.”
Remus choked back the laughter that was on the verge of overcoming him. “What happened?”
“Potionsincident,” he muttered darkly and locked himself in the bathroom before anyone could inquire any further. But it was curious, he thought, when Padfoot hadn’t been enrolled in Potions since last term. He’d dropped the class with enthusiasm as soon as he could–“if I wanted to mix a bunch of shite together I’d bake a sodding cake with the house elves.”
Remus had wanted to do the same; but he knew that he couldn’t– not when the chance at another Exceeds Expectations could improve his future prospects (a meager amount, but improvement was improvement). All that to say, it didn’t make sense for Sirius to still be dabbling in potions.
An image popped into his head of Sirius grasping the hips of some rubenesque Ravenclaw girl as she stirred a bubbling cauldron. Suddenly he didn’t feel much like laughing anymore, or even making basic conversation.
He drew his bed-hangings shut and drifted off to the dulcet tones of James Potter giggling himself into a stupor.
…
“I think Padfoot’s seeing someone,” he murmured to James, the next day.
“Huh,” Prongs said. “You reckon?”
Remus tried to give every appearance of someone who had not given it much thought at all– quite the feat when he’d been stewing over it for the past 72 consecutive hours, but he executed it beautifully.
“Yeah, I mean he’s been. Tetchy lately? And he’s always the last into bed and the first out in the morning.”
“Hmm,” James said, “In-ter-es-ting,” he licked his lips. “I’ll rally the forces. Investigate properly.”
This just meant he’d mention it to Pete so Remus still felt the chances of it getting back to Sirius (oblivious-extraordinaire) were rather low.
“Let me know what you find,” he said.
“I’m going off the grid,” James hissed, and tucked and rolled out of the room.
…
“Oi, Moony!” James said (screamed) as soon as he crossed the threshold into the dormitory the following evening. “I’ve cracked the case!” He leered at where Sirius was lying back on his bed. “Moony was wondering why you’ve been so off lately!” Remus supposed that expecting subtlety from Prongs was poor judgment on his part.
“Reckon you should just tell him Pads,” James said to Sirius, now standing at the side of his bed. Sirius hissed something back, looking affronted and a brutal slap-fight commenced. It dissolved in another moment and James, winded from an elbow in the stomach, croaked, “It’s fine. I’ll just tell him myself,” he dodged another elbow, “Truth is, he’s a bit ill, Moony,” he said. “The poor thing’s embarrassed. Coming out of both ends, isn’t it Padfoot?”
Sirius made a garbled noise, but didn’t protest.
“Oh, sorry love, I didn’t realize,” Remus said. That would explain the dabbling in potions though, Padfoot hated being sick and above all, despised others witnessing or acknowledging him in his illness; it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he’d try to whip up some home remedy or a dose of Pepper-up just to avoid showing his face at the Hospital Wing.
Remus wasn’t quite sure how to feel, truth be told. He was torn between hoping to God he didn’t catch whatever Sirius had, fantasizing about a universe where Sirius might be receptive to his tender ministrations, yearning only for Remus to kiss his fevered brow, and relief that if Padfoot was currently indisposed he couldn’t be engaging in destructive prankery and he definitely couldn’t be snogging pretty birds from Ravenclaw.
“I don’t suppose you’ve gone to see Pomfrey?” he tried tentatively.
“Nah,” Sirius muttered, eyes downcast. “Think I’m on the mend.”
“That’s really good. Glad to hear it,” he said, feeling altogether inadequate. His head was throbbing, a dull pain mounting behind his skull, and he wanted to lie down more than anything, but he had three more hours of evening revision ahead of him.
“I’ll be sure to, er, to leave the bathroom free,” he offered in the most nurturing voice he could manage.
James let out a hysterical giggle and got another elbow from Sirius in return.
“Er, thanks Moons,” Padfoot said, looking pained.
“Well I’m off to the library, just now but, maybe, maybe tea would help? I’ll stop by the kitchens on the way back. Alright see you!”
He hightailed it out of there as quickly as he could.
…
Remus was already in a poor mood when he woke up on Saturday. Saturday meant potions. He got out of bed and walked down to breakfast as slow as was humanly possible. It was early enough that hardly anyone was down in the Great Hall yet so he unashamedly added five spoonfuls of sugar to his earl gray.
“Potions today?”
He turned in his seat and Sirius was there, an almost shy expression on his face, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Yeah,” Moony said once his heart had returned from his throat. “You’re feeling better then?”
“Er, yeah,” Sirius said. Remus noticed a violent flush blooming up his neck and cheeks originating from collar bone, (some sort of rash perhaps?)
“Yeah, about that, Moony,” Sirius said.
“What?” Remus said, warily.
“Thing is, I wasn’t sick.”
Remus sized him up. No, he definitely had a peaky look to him. He tried to be reassuring.
“It’s okay if you were, you know. You don’t have to hide it. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, actually-”
“I wasn’t sick!” Sirius exploded, catching the attention of a few people around them. He cleared his throat.
“Sorry. Prongs lied. Evil git,” he muttered. “That wasn’t– he was covering for me.”
“Oh,” Remus said, heart back in his throat, all of a sudden. If Sirius wasn’t sick he really had no clue what was going on with him; maybe Sirius really was seeing someone and he hadn’t wanted to break the news yet– that was the only thing that explained why James might cover for him. This was it, he thought resignedly. Sirius was going to tell him the name of the girl he was dating and then Potions was going to shit all over him and he’d be lonely and unsuccessful forever.
“I was, sort of, well, not sort of, I was doing Potions Revision?” Sirius said it like a question. He was watching Remus’ face carefully.
“Oh,” Remus said, “But you don’t take Potions?”
“No,” Sirius said, “But you do. And I– well I had a think about everything and I’m never going to want to study or apply myself for the sake of it Moony it’s just not me and I won’t pretend that it is, but I do care about you, so much, and I see how hard you work and you deserve all the success, you deserve to, to do everything you want to and read all the books in all the dusty libraries you could want and babble with all the poncy scholarly blokes you want and I know I can’t give you that, I would if I could, believe me, if I could I’d give you all of my opportunities in a second, but I can’t so I thought, I thought since I can’t do that I can try to make it a little easier and I know you hate Potions so I thought I might brush up on it and help you study?”
“Oh,” Remus said. “That’s-”
Of all of the things he’d expected, it hadn’t been this. But he should have, he thought. Sirius was brilliant, and thoughtful, and even after sharing a room with him for years, he still managed to be surprising. Sirius who was stood there looking abashed at his own kindness, worried about how Remus might react to the fact that he’d apparently spent the past weeks revising outside of his own coursework just to give him a fighting chance on his Potions exam.
“Aw, Pads,” he said, and dropped his eyes because they were both blushing like mad now. But he forced himself to meet Sirius’ gaze again. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Really. That would be perfect.”
…
An hour later found him on his way down to the dungeons to meet Sirius for their study session. Sirius had told him to bring his notes, but leave everything else to him. He had his doubts, Sirius’ approach to coursework usually consisted of an overreliance on his own intuition, but, he reminded himself, he’d already underestimated Sirius once today.
Remus tried to shove down the ridiculous feeling that he was on his way to a date. Because that was stupid. It wasn’t a date; Sirius was just doing a nice gesture, an over the top, touching gesture, but that was all.
He paused in the doorway. Sirius was standing over a large cauldron at the back of the room. Most courses had already wrapped up in preparation for exams, and Slughorn was one of the teachers that allowed students to make use of his classroom for their revision. There were a few other students scattered around the room doing exam prep, all murmuring in low voices.
Sirius glanced up and his eyes lit up when he caught sight of him, beckoning him over. He showed off the study materials he’d amassed and Remus was understandably impressed at the haul (including but not limited to interactive flash-cards with spell work that changed based on one’s mastery level and The Essential Handbook for Every Aspiring Potioneer—which went in far greater depth then their class text about the rationale of certain ingredients; ideal, as one of the things Remus hated the most about the subject was how arbitrary everything always seemed. Sirius must have taken an extra trip to Hogsmeade for that very reason.
“I figured we could start with a calming draught. A bit basic but if it turns out okay you can have a pinch so you’re in the right mindset for the harder stuff.”
Christ, he really had put a lot of thought in this. Remus nodded, trying to take it all in stride because he knew Sirius would be irritated if he sensed he expected any less or there was any insinuation that his actions were outside of the ordinary. He could really be quite sensitive about that sort of thing.
“Right,” Remus said, rolling up his sleeves. Sirius actually had all the makings of a good teacher; he hid the next steps and encouraged Remus to make educated guesses or gave him hints that required him to use his intuition. Normally when Remus got stuck he got panicked and doubted his own knowledge, glancing back at the text every two seconds and never giving himself the chance to strengthen his own confidence, but Sirius gave him the mental space to think clearly.
The calming draught came out perfectly and they both took a swig of the cool sage fluid from the vial. Remus closed his eyes and felt the soothing wave slide down his throat and then diffuse slowly out to his extremities, like the tide going out. He opened them again, and watched Sirius do the same. The other boy’s eyes were still closed and Remus watched on, charting the ripple of his throat, the way his tongue poked out to lick his pink lips. He was still staring when Sirius opened his eyes, but he wasn’t fussed. He just smiled at him and Sirius grinned back. The cool air felt good on his skin and the low lights lent a certain intimacy to the ambience. This potions business was growing on him.
“What’s next up?” he murmured and Sirius consulted his list.
They were in the middle of brewing a basic healing draught when Sirius cleared his throat and spoke.
“So,” he said, eyes on the potion, stirring with graceful movements. “James mentioned– you’d thought I was seeing someone.”
“Yeah,” Remus croaked. He knew he should have been panicking but the calming draught was like a light drizzle on his skin, still blanketing him in its languor. “It’s none of my business if you are. I just thought-”
“It is your business,” Sirius’s gaze snapped up at him. Remus thought Sirius was flushing a bit, but he didn’t drop his eyes before speaking again. “Sort of. I dunno.”
“Oh,” Remus said. “Okay.” They both watched the potion. Remus scanned the page of his potions textbook desperate for some further instruction so he had something to do with his hands.
“I’m not,” Sirius said. “Seeing anyone. “But, er, that’s not to say I’m opposed to it. I mean, if it was with the right person, I’d be all for it, really, but I don’t even know if they’d,” he looked at Remus very intensely and looked down again quickly. “Even want that with me, and they’re, I think they’re really busy anyways, the massive swot they are, so,” he cleared his throat and stirred.
“Oh,” Remus said. Under the blue blanket of the potion he thought there was a very tiny, animated man in his brain starting to do cartwheels and play a trumpet.
“I’m sure they’d, this person, would– be interested. Maybe… maybe after Newts?” he said.
Sirius’ pupils dilated and Remus licked his parched lips, scarcely daring to breathe.
“You should ask them,” Remus added.
“Right. Yeah, I think I’ll do that. I’ll Ask him. After Newts.” The man inside his head was now shooting off fireworks and also there was confetti.
“Well I think they’d probably say– the answer would be yes. After Newts.”
They both smiled shyly at each other for a long couple of moments. And then the potion, as they were prone to do when feeling neglected, promptly erupted in their faces.
…
Back in the dormitory, they stripped out of their sodden robes. The calming draught was almost completely out of his system at this point, Remus thought, since with each passing second there was a greater risk of him doing something extremely soppy, like reaching out to hold Sirius’ hand. He didn’t know how he was going to wait until after Newts. In fact, he didn’t know how he was going to wait even a second longer. He scanned the map and quickly located Peter and James safely out of the way near the greenhouses (in all probability smoking to “calm their nerves” before exams). They definitely had some time to themselves then.
“Just for clarity’s sake, you never were sick, then?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “That was all rubbish?” His hands were shaking. “James made that all up?”
“Keep up, Moons, course I wasn’t. Why do you ask?”
“Because, I really think I’d like to kiss you now, and I don’t fancy catching something.”
“Thank fuck, Moony,” Sirius said, beaming at him, and launched himself bodily into Remus’ arms. “Thought I was going to have to wait another week.”
“Nutter,” Remus gasped, breathless, pulling him by the front of his robes until they fell back onto the bed closest, laughing, and embracing, kissing hesitant at first, but then quickly with greater hunger and heat. His books lay abandoned, with his bag, at the foot of the bed and Remus didn’t feel bad about it for a second. He had revised all week, after all and now he looked forward to treating his current object of study with all the time and painstaking attention that he would any subject. He hoped that he would be studying Sirius for a long time yet.