Chapter 1
The alarm blares furiously in Sirius’ ears. He stays perfectly still, hoping that the ridiculous noise would stop, and he can go back to sleep.
“Oi, Padfoot,” James says, “we’ve got a lecture in 30 minutes!”
“Five more minutes,” Sirius replies, his voice merely a whisper. Honestly, fuck Prongs. How is he expecting Sirius to get up so early after last night. Just because he didn’t drink, doesn’t mean he can wake him up this early. Isn’t James tired though? He’s pretty sure they didn’t get back to the dorm until about 2 am. Sirius doesn’t care that he has a lecture soon, it’s baffling how anyone can wake up before noon after a night out.
“Five more minutes turns into us being an hour late. Get your arse up now!”
Sirius groans as he carefully sits up in bed. James does have a good point. And contrary to popular belief, he does actually value his education.
Sirius starts to gag before running out of their dorm to the bathroom opposite. Ugh, he is never drinking again. That is a lie, and he knows it, but God, alcohol is never as fun the day after.
“20 minutes!” James shouts to the vomiting man.
Sirius rests his forehead on the cool metal of the toilet and mentally curses his best friend.
***
Sirius yawns and leaves the lecture theatre. Why are there so many lectures in a Media course? He thought it would be more practical. But he’s not complaining – he’s actually rather enjoying it. Even the long lectures.
Another yawn. He needs a coffee.
Walking past the cafeteria and that so called ‘coffee’, Sirius exits the building. The lingering summer sun beams merrily on his face, causing a warm smile to appear. It’s still warm out, despite being September, and Sirius will soak up every bit of warmth he can get. He always does.
People run around campus, playing games with their friends. Most would call them childish – everyone here is an adult – but Sirius loves watching people have fun, rediscovering that carefree joy only children seem capable of. A pair of boys run past him, the smaller of the two chasing the other with a big stick. Reminds him of...no one.
After a short walk, Sirius pushes open the door to a café, which just so happens to serve the greatest coffee in a 5-mile radius. Yes, Sirius has tried coffee from everywhere that sells it around the university. This shop has the best.
His ears are instantly filled with conversation, the lunch time rush clearly at its peak. He slides to the back of the queue and quietly observes the ensuing chaos. As much as he loves the tranquillity of nature, he is utterly attracted to crowds. Or, better said, being in the centre of a crowd.
A 15-minute wait later, it’s finally Sirius’ turn to order. But his mind goes blank the moment he sees the barista. He has to crane his neck to get a proper look at him – he is easily 6 foot tall, at least. He has a large scar going from his left eye, over his nose, which is dusted with a light cover of freckles, and ending at the right corner of his lips. Oh, his lips. They are so perfect. They are a little chapped, but Sirius wants to meet them with his own. He wants to kiss every inch of his beautiful face. He wants to lick the length of his scar. He wants to-
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the barista ends Sirius’ train of thought. His voice. Sirius loves his voice already.
“S-sorry,” Sirius stutters.
“What did you want?”
“Oh, um, a flat white please.”
“Anything else?”
Sirius shakes his head; his brain still not fully functioning.
“That’ll be £2.95.”
Sirius pays. His eyes drift down to the barista’s name tag. Remus. Sirius loves it when he finds people with a name as unique as his.
He receives his drink a few minutes later, and is about to walk away when he says, “I like your name, Remus.”