Griffindor vs Ravenclaw
The dormitory had been filled with James’s excited rambling for hours.
Ever since breakfast, he hadn’t shut up about the Quidditch match, and Sirius was honestly starting to consider a silencing charm to block out sound.
"Did you hear? The lineup’s finally confirmed—"
"Gryffindor’s got a new Chaser, McKinnon says he’s brilliant—"
"Ravenclaw’s Seeker is new, supposed to be fast,—"
It had been going on all day, through meals, through classes, and now in their dormitory, where James and Peter were still bouncing ideas off each other, discussing strategies as if they were the ones playing.
Sirius had been doing his best to ignore them but Peter, the traitor, had other ideas.
“Oi, Sirius, who do you think’s gonna win?”
Sirius barely glanced up. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
James turned to him in horror. “You don’t care?”
Sirius sighed, already regretting answering at all. “That’s what I said, yeah.”
James groaned. “But it’s Quidditch! It’s our first match at Hogwarts! How can you not care?”
“Very, very easily,” Sirius said.
James made an exasperated sound. “You love excitement! You’re always the first to start something fun, but the one time there’s actually something worth watching, you can’t be bothered?”
Sirius finally looked up. “James, not everyone is obsessed with Quidditch.”
Peter gasped. “But you should be! You’re—you’re you!”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Peter shrugged. “You always have an opinion. You like being in the middle of things.”
“Yes, but only things that interest me,” Sirius pointed out. “Which this does not.”
James groaned again. “You’re always making excuses. Last week it was homework, the week before that you ‘just didn’t feel like it’—”
“I do have homework,” Sirius interrupted, gesturing to his book.
James scoffed. “Since when do you care about homework?”
Sirius gave him a pointed look. “Since I realized I need a reason to get you to stop talking.”
Peter snorted.
James, undeterred, waved a hand. “Alright, fine, then do it after the match.”
“I also need to write to Regulus,” Sirius said, voice quieter now. “And Astraelle. And Irene.” He ran his thumb along the edge of the pages. “I haven’t written since I got here.”
Remus, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally spoke. “You don’t have to go, you know,” he said, tone even. “James will survive.”
James flopped back dramatically onto his bed. “Barely.”
Sirius smirked. “I’ll risk it.”
Peter sighed. “Alright, alright, let’s go get seats before the entire school does.”
James groaned but pushed himself up. “You’re going to regret this.”
Sirius smirked but didn’t look up. “Doubt it.”
Remus, however, didn’t move.
After a moment, he said, “I wasn’t really planning on going anyway. I could stay.”
Sirius looked at him properly then.
Remus didn’t fill space the way James did. He didn’t need constant noise or conversation. He could just be.
Sirius hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted that.
He hesitated for only a second before nodding. “…Alright.”
Remus just nodded back and went back to his homework.
It had been a long day. Too much noise in the Great Hall, too many people brushing past him in the corridors, too many loud conversations pressing in on all sides. But it was better now. The quiet helped. Across the table, Remus groaned.
Sirius looked up, "You alright over there?"
"No," Remus muttered, shoving his parchment away. "I’ve been staring at this essay for an hour, and I still don’t understand a thing." He rubbed his temples, looking thoroughly miserable. "Its on the Opium War, and I swear, I’ve read the same paragraph six times, but none of it is sticking."
Sirius blinked at him. "The Opium War?"
"Yeah," Remus grumbled. "Trade, imperialism, whatever. I know absolutely nothing about muggle history."
Sirius sat up a little, the fog in his mind starting to lift. "Oh," he said. "Oh, Remus."
Remus frowned. "What?"
"You don’t need the textbook," Sirius said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You have me."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "Really, you actually know real muggle history?"
He straightened up, shaking off the last bit of tension in his body. "Alright, listen closely,"
Remus groaned again, but there was a hint of a smile this time. "Sirius—"
"No, no, trust me," Sirius said, fully awake now. "I’m going to make this so interesting you’ll actually remember it." He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "It all starts with tea—because, obviously, the British can’t function without it…"
And just like that, Sirius forgot the rest of the world, diving headfirst into the story.
Remus shook his head, still scribbling notes. “You should be a professor. You’d actually keep people awake.”
Sirius gasped, hand on his chest. “Moony, that is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Remus laughed. “Right. Too much work for you?”
“Exactly,” Sirius said, stretching again. “Besides, I think I’d make a much better revolutionary.”
Remus chuckled. “You probably would.” He nudged Sirius’s arm. “Thanks, for explaining it.”
Sirius shrugged, “Anytime,”
He stretched his arms over his head. "Alright, that’s enough history for one night. My brain is officially fried."
Remus smirked, rolling up his parchment. "You say that like you didn’t enjoy lecturing me for the last half hour."
"I did," Sirius admitted. "But even I have limits." He exhaled, rubbing his temples."I’m going to the Owlery. You coming?" Sirius said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Haven’t written in a while. If I don’t, Reg will get moody, and Irene will assume I’m dead."
Remus hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, alright. I’ll come."
They made their way through the quiet castle, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone.
After a moment, Remus glanced at Sirius. "You always say you’re writing to your siblings," he said slowly. "Never your parents."
Sirius’s grip on his bag strap tightened.
"That’s because I don’t write to them," he said finally, voice even.
Remus looked at him. "Why not?"
Sirius let out a short breath through his nose, debating how much to say. "My dad drinks too much," he said simply. "And my mum… she’s complicated."
Remus frowned. "Complicated how?"
Sirius hesitated, then shook his head. "It’s not really something I can explain." That was an understatement. He could barely explain it to himself.
Remus was quiet for a moment, then said, "My mum’s complicated too."
Sirius glanced at him, interest flickering in his tired brain. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Remus said. "She can’t work. It’s hard for her to be around people for too long. She gets overwhelmed, and it makes things worse."
Sirius frowned. "That sounds hard."
Remus shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I guess. But it’s normal for me."
Sirius didn’t respond right away. They walked in silence for a bit.
"I love them, obviously." Sirius said after a while. "Everything used to be fine, but now things just keep getting worse."
Remus didn’t push, didn’t ask for details, and Sirius was grateful for it.
They reached the Owlery, he sat on the stone ledge, pulling out a piece of parchment. Remus leaned against the wall, watching.
"You write to them often?" Remus asked.
"Yeah," Sirius said, twirling his quill between his fingers. "Mostly to Regulus. But Irene and Astra too."
"You’re the oldest, then?"
"Yeah."
"That explains a lot," Remus muttered.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Remus smirked. "You’ve got older brother energy."
Sirius huffed. "I don’t even know what that means, but I feel vaguely insulted."
"You shouldn’t be. It just means you’re… responsible. When you want to be."
Sirius snorted. "Don’t tell McGonagall that, or she’ll start expecting things from me."
Remus just rolled his eyes, and Sirius shook his head, turning back to his parchment. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, his mind running through everything he wanted to say.
Then, finally, he began to write.
Dear Reg, Irene, and Astraelle,
I’m writing this from the Owlery, which, as always, smells like absolute death. You’d think someone would clean it once in a while, but no, apparently, we’re all just supposed to suffer. Hogwarts is fine. How’s everything at home? Is Mum still making you sit through those awful etiquette lessons? Tell her I’m to busy being rebellious to attend. (No, seriously, don’t tell her. She’ll find a way to send me Howlers.)
Irene, stop tormenting Astraelle. Astraelle, don’t believe anything Irene says about me. I am the best older brother, and you know it.
I miss you all, so mutch.
Please stay out the way and don't cause any trouble. Basically do the opposite of what I would do.
Write back soon.
Sirius
His hand was shaking slightly when he finished. He stared at the parchment for a moment.
He tied the letter to a barn owl’s leg, giving it a gentle stroke before sending it off.
"You alright?" Remus asked quietly.
Sirius exhaled, forcing a smirk. "Obviously. I’m always alright."
By the time Sirius and Remus made it back to Gryffindor Tower, It was dark outside and the fire was burning low.
"That was a lot of emotional labor for one evening," he muttered.
Remus smirked, settling into an armchair across from him. "You act like I forced you to talk."
"You didn’t, which is why it was weird," Sirius said, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I usually have to be tricked into it."
Remus hummed. "I’ll keep that in mind."
The common room was quiet for a while. Sirius didn’t mind the silence. In fact, he liked it, the quiet was nice.
"You glad we skipped the match?" Sirius asked after a moment.
Before Remus could respond, the portrait hole swung open with a loud bang, and a very distraught James stormed inside, followed closely by an equally miserable-looking Peter.
"—ABSOLUTELY ROBBED!" James was practically shouting. "I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MORE UNFAIR CALL IN MY LIFE!"
Peter nodded furiously. "That was blatant bias! Everyone knows Fawley's cousin is a referee! That foul should have been called!"
Sirius sat up, raising an eyebrow. "I take it Gryffindor didn’t win?"
James turned to him, eyes wild with frustration. "We should have won! We were winning! Right up until that ridiculous penalty in the last ten minutes, Ravenclaw got a free shot they didn’t deserve, and then—"
"And then they caught the Snitch," Peter finished glumly, slumping into the armchair next to Remus. "It was rigged. I know it was rigged."
James collapsed onto the couch beside Sirius, looking personally offended by the universe. His hair was a mess, even more than usual, probably from him yanking on it in frustration.
"I’m writing a letter," James declared, crossing his arms. "McGonagall needs to hear about this."
Remus snorted. "What’s she going to do, James? Demand a rematch?"
James looked deeply offended covering his face with his hands. "I hate this day."
Peter nodded solemnly. "Worst day ever."
Sirius and Remus exchanged amused glances.
"Well," Remus said, "on the bright side, at least you didn’t have to sit in the Owlery and listen to Sirius get all sentimental about his siblings."
Sirius shot him a look, but James peeked out from behind his hands, suddenly distracted. "Wait, Sirius? Sentimental?" He sat up.
"Wow, James," Sirius drawled. "Yes, I am capable of human emotions."
"That’s debatable," Remus muttered.
Sirius kicked at him half-heartedly, but Remus just smirked.
James still looked skeptical, but he let it go, too distracted by his Quidditch misery to pursue it further.
After a moment, Peter sighed. "I can’t believe we lost. I don’t even want to go to breakfast tomorrow."
James groaned. "Oh, Merlin, breakfast. They’re going to be insufferable. I might hex them on sight."
"Please don’t," Remus said tiredly.
Sirius leaned back against the couch, watching James and Peter rant about the injustice of it all.