chamomile
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Remus, seriously,” you sigh, letting the book in your lap fall shut with a startling thud. Remus grabs your shoulders tightly, staring at you with desperation in his eyes.
“He’s killing me, killing me. I can’t teach him how to transfigure anything nonverbally, I’ve tried- he’s just not getting it. I’ve gone over the same rubbish a million times, and he still isn’t getting it, and he isn’t used to not getting it, so he’s losing his mind. You’re a far better teacher, I know you are.”
“And he wants me to tutor him?”
Remus’s eyes flicker away from you uncomfortably, “Well, he hasn’t really asked, but-”
“Then no, Remus. Complain all you want, but I’m not doing that to myself,” you shake him off with a laugh and open your book again.
You were trying to enjoy your Friday evening in the Gryffindor common room, curled up in your regular window nook with a hot cup of tea and an oversized book, when Remus flopped down across from you.
You and Remus have been friends since second year. You run in the same circles as the Marauders (your circle consisting of Remus, Remus, and Remus), but you don’t interact too often. His friends, while good company, keep a distance from you, and you from them. It’s not totally out of annoyance (while that may be a part of it); it’s closer to an indifference to their attention. You know they wouldn’t get along with you, and you wouldn’t get along with them.
At the thought of the Marauders, you begrudgingly look back up from your book and make eye contact with the boy in front of you. Remus sits with a pleading look; one knee pulled to his chest, his mousey hair even more askew than normal, the bags under his eyes a few shades darker. The sunset streaming in from the window beside you casts warm shadows across his face, highlighting the sunken white scars scrawled on his cheeks and nose.
“You’ve always been better than me at transfiguration- and you’re the only person I know who can actually do nonverbal spells well.”
You aren’t one for friendship, but Remus is different. He’s kind, easy to talk to, and irritating in a sibling-esque way. Something warm makes its way down your throat and spreads into your chest, similar to the hot tea you’ve been sipping. You huff and pinch between your eyes to relieve the sudden tension headache coming on from the bombardment of emotions.
“Sucking up to me isn’t going to do anything, Remus.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
“What’s worth a shot?” a familiar voice chimes in tandem with a warm arm sliding over your shoulders. James flops onto the small space left next to you, his legs awkwardly dangling off the edge of the windowsill as he butts into the seat. He finally settles on borderline crushing you into the glass before grinning over at you wholeheartedly, curiosity flashing in his eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a questioning half-smile. You and James aren’t close, more casual-friends-bordering-acquaintances, but he’s suddenly deemed you close enough to put his arm around you, apparently. Or he needs a favor from you- maybe Remus roped James into convincing you to tutor Sirius.
Still, you’re friendlier with James than you are with Sirius. Sirius absolutely does not know you, despite growing up around each other’s families. Being from a well-known pureblood family, you regularly attended haughty functions with the Blacks.
Sirius is so distant, yet so close. You see each other every day, have almost the same schedule, and are constantly hearing about each other from Remus. You both sit next to Remus every chance you get; despite all of this, Sirius hasn’t spared you a second glance for the last few years except for a few biting comments here and there. You guess you haven't spared him one either, except for the occasional look of disdain at his brash nature. He’s not worth the trouble of attempting to teach.
“I’m trying to get her to tutor Sirius.”
James’s eyes light up as he glances back over at you, dazzling grin somehow becoming even brighter,
“That’s brilliant! Maybe he’ll finally shut up about failing transfiguration. Minnie’ll be ecstatic.”
“I don’t believe that he’s actually failing. I don’t know him that well, but he seems bright enough. He’s always done fine when he isn’t acting like a prick,” you sigh and sit up, wiggling Potter off of the seat. He dramatically lands on the floor with an oof.
“Ow. Well, believe it. It’s annoying as all hell, he never stops whining,” James says, stretching languidly over the carpet, “You’d actually be an alright fit for him, I think. The stick up your arse isn’t as bad as other NEWT students- it’s still there, obviously, but…” he trails off with a shrug, folding his arms behind his head. You huff a laugh through your nose and tuck your book in the crook of your arm. You swing your legs off of the window nook, shoving the half-cold cup of tea into Remus’s hands.
“Tell Sirius to come to me himself if he actually needs help. I’ll see you later.”
You push off of the sill and walk away, swinging your bag over your shoulder and hoping to find solace in the library. The two boys watch you disappear as the Fat Lady clicks shut behind you with finality.
“I hope she’ll actually do it,” James huffs, heaving himself onto the cushion you previously occupied.
“Yeah,” Remus sighs, still staring at the back of the portrait, “I’m sure she will. She’s nicer than you think.”
“Whatever you say, mate,” James drawls, taking the mug from him and taking a sip, wincing, “Ugh. Chamomile.”
---
“Have you thought about it, at least?” Remus says, shouldering his bag, students bustling around you. His satchel looks too heavy, like the strap might snap from the strain.
“Yeah, and it’s still a no, Rem,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. You can see him pleadingly gaze at you from your peripheral, but you can’t bring yourself to look. You’ll say yes if you do; you have a soft spot for Remus, and he knows it.
“It’s fine,” Remus starts, sighing dramatically, “I guess I’ll just suffer, listening to him complain. Forever. And Sirius won’t pass transfiguration. And he won’t graduate. And-”
“Shut up,” you scoff, bumping shoulders with him.
The hallway is crowded, so you pause conversation while trying to push through together; it’s too loud to talk. A group of first-years with wide eyes pass by, robes still oversized and shoes still shining. There are a few Gryffindor seventh-years standing on benches, people-watching and yelling over the crowd. Some Hufflepuffs sit against the window archways, pretending not to flirt with each other, faces washed in multicolor through stained glass.
A distracted-looking group of Ravenclaws suddenly appears and almost runs into you- Remus pulls you out of the way, making you stumble into step in front of him. You give him a thankful smile over your shoulder, and he squeezes your wrist before letting go. The two of you turn down a less crowded corridor, breaking out of the river of students.
“Thanks. Listen,” you start, footsteps matching Remus’s, “I wouldn’t mind tutoring him, honest. He seems bright, and if he’s your mate, then I’m sure he’s an alright person, and all of that. But he… he fucking annoys me, alright? Remember, we used to pick on each other when we were kids-”
“Used to?” Remus mutters, raising a brow at you.
You shoot him a look before continuing, “You know that it’s weird now- and I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me-”
“You know him, he knows you! You’ve known each other for your whole lives-”
“He doesn’t act like it! All he ever does is act like he’s god’s fuckin’ gift! You can see that-”
“Oh, please-”
“Remus, Sirius Black will never listen to me. He won’t even listen to you.”
Remus scoffs, and you finally look over at him as you turn a corner. His eyes are a little heavier than yesterday, and he seems a bit more anxious, fingers plucking the strap of his bag. You vaguely remember that the full moon is in a handful of days. Scanning his face, you see the few newer scars across his jaw are healing well. He catches you staring, and rolls his eyes, smiling lightly.
“I’m fine, just jittery. And that’s not true, he listens to me all the time.”
“Tutoring him would be a waste of time, dumbass, I doubt Sirius even remembers my name, so why would he want me to-”
“Trouble in paradise?” a familiar voice croons as you turn a corner. You can hear him smirking. It makes your lip curl in annoyance. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath before looking at him.
Sirius Black leans against the wall next to your shared potions class, arms crossed, robes wrinkled. His dark hair, like always, is shining, just barely skimming his shoulders in waves that curl around his cheekbones. He gives you a smile out of the corner of his mouth, raising an eyebrow, radiating cockiness. A dimple appears with the gesture. Remus grins; you keep your expression blank.
“Hi, Sirius. We were just shit-talking you,” Remus chirps.
“Ah, my favorite subject. What was that you were saying?” he pushes off of the wall, readjusting his bag. It looks mostly empty. His eyes meet yours, mischievous and sharp.
You don’t respond, assuming he’s addressing Remus, and move to open the classroom door. Sirius beats you to it, swinging it open for you, eyes alight. He arches a dark eyebrow at you, never breaking eye contact, and you hear Remus snicker over your shoulder. You exhale through your nose, giving Sirius an annoyed smile.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome Y/N,” Sirius says, emphasizing your name.
Hearing your name come out of his mouth makes something hot sit in your chest, bubbling and angry and almost embarrassed. You immediately push the feeling down- it's not worth the effort. It's not like Sirius has done anything awful to you since you’ve been at Hogwarts, really, other than being obnoxious in your vicinity. He’s just cocky, and loud, and blatantly ignores you most of the time; either teasing you or acting like he can’t see you.
But he does that to everyone, except James, Remus, and whoever he’s trying to hook up with. He shouldn’t get under your skin. But he does.
Sirius and Remus follow closely behind you, chatting about something or another; you think you hear Sirius mention planning a party this weekend. James swivels on his chair at the sound of their voices, grinning. He catches your eye.
“Good morning,” James greets, friendly as ever.
“Hi, James,” you give him a genuine smile, slipping into your seat behind him. James has always been kind to you- he’s friendly and lighthearted, and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying his company. He always makes an effort to include you at Sirius’s notorious house parties, when you’re uncomfortably holding a red cup in the common room, downing the contents, glued to Remus’s side.
It’s never really your scene, but Remus makes it bearable, with his quick quips as the two of you sit and drink and people-watch. James jokes around with the two of you, sociable and warm, before leaving to dance with Lily. Sirius is in the middle of the dance floor, up against his fling of the week. You shake that image out of your head, wrinkling your nose slightly.
James and Sirius welcome you out of your daydream, obnoxiously greeting each other, all booming voices and claps on the back. You try to tune it out as Remus takes his usual spot next to you. Sirius sits in front of you, next to James. You find yourself glowering at the back of his head. Remus nudges you for a spare quill, and as you look down to root around in your bag, Sirius’s voice catches your attention.
“You really thought I didn't know your name?” he asks. Your stomach churns. You look up at him sitting backwards on his seat, arms crossed on the backrest, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Well, yeah. We don’t really talk, do we?” you say, trying to be casual. You don’t want to start anything. He’s annoying, sure, but you don’t feel like arguing with the loudest person at Hogwarts.
“Yeah, we don’t,” he stretches casually, “I’d never remember you if you weren’t practically married to Moony- with how much he blabs about you, I’d have to be daft to forget your name.”
You take it back. You feel like arguing with the loudest person at Hogwarts.
“Oh, fuck off,” you sigh. You keep shuffling around in your bag to hide your face, continuing to search for a quill, flushed with anger. Remus smacks Sirius over the head with a roll of parchment.
“I talk about her a normal amount, thanks,” Remus responds.
“Well, it sounds like you ‘shit talk’ me to her, Moony- and I thought we were friends.” Sirius fakes a teary face, looking up and fanning his eyes.
“Oh, look what you’ve done!” James exclaims, and holds Sirius close, cradling his head, shushing him loudly.
You’re thankful for James's distraction as Sirius laughs, batting James’s hands away. Remus gives you an apologetic look, and you shrug, straining to smile.
“Alright, listen here, listen here!” Slughorn projects, raising his hands dramatically as the class rumbles to a murmur. “It’s time to reassign partners-” the class breaks into a groan that he yells over, “yes, yes, complain all you like. Brown, with Abott…”
Slughorn seems to assign partners at random, pointing around the room, a twinkle in his eye. A slight panic starts to spread from your chest to your fingertips. You like Remus as a partner, he’s smart and organized and patient and familiar- something that no one else in the class is. You cross your fingers that you’ll get paired with James. He’d make it bearable. Anyone other than Sirius would be acceptable, really.
Slughorn finally reaches your corner of tables, where he pauses, thinking. Your stomach curls.
“Lupin, with Potter; ah, and you with Black, lovely, perhaps it’ll be a bit quieter in here,” he says, eyeing James and Sirius. Fuck.
You sigh deeply as Sirius groans, “Professor, are you sure I can’t be partners with Remus? I-”
“Mister Black, that’s enough. You should know that you have an exceptional partner from her performance in this class. On with it, now!” he says, and spins to walk to the front of the chamber, robes billowing behind him. You wrinkle your nose at his forced praise.
“Best of luck, ‘exceptional partner’,” Remus says, raising a brow at you, a lilt in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitches up.
“We’re not friends anymore,” you deadpan. Gritting your teeth, you slowly move your books over to James’s spot in front of you. He gives you a pitying look when he gets up to sit next to Remus.
“Aw, so we’re besties now, then?” Sirius says as you hop onto the seat next to him. You try to avoid looking at him, focusing on your textbook, but he’s leaning into your peripheral with a smirk on his face.
“Sure," you drawl sardonically, working your jaw.
“It was just a question, sweetheart-” he stretches his arms above his head, limbs catlike and languid, “now that I know your name, and all, I thought I’d-”
“Just shut up, will you? Don’t call me sweetheart- ”
“I don’t think I will, actually, I think I'll say what I like.”
“Merlin, you’re fucking ridiculous-”
“Oh, I’m ridiculous-”
“You really haven’t changed at all-”
“Why change perfection, sweet-?”
“Mister Black, would you and your partner like to share?”
You feel heat seep into your face as a classroom full of eyes turns to look at you- you hadn’t realized Slughorn started the lecture. Your stomach twists with embarrassment.
“Just getting to know my lovely new partner, professor, she’s quite talkative,” Sirius smiles widely.
You seethe, glaring at the cauldron in front of you. A few students giggle, and Slughorn continues.
“Instructions are on the board, as always, and please remember to add your willow root powder slowly- you’ll be picking it out of your hair for weeks.”
Taking a glance at the board, you immediately recognize the potion as a complex poison antidote. Students’ stools begin to screech against the floor as they scramble for the ingredient storage room.
“You get the ingredients, yeah?” Sirius says, not even looking at you, too busy staring at a Ravenclaw as she walks away. You set your jaw and stand.
You fall into the back of the line of students grabbing at shelves, and finally get what you need after a few moments of waiting. As you pass by Slughorn on the way back, he sends you a wink.
“Should be an easy one for you, eh?”
“Right,” you nod, sending him a tight smile. He’s always gotten on your nerves.
“‘Should be an easy one’?” Sirius says, brow furrowing as you carefully place the armfuls of ingredients down.
“I’ve made it before. For the hospital wing. I don’t mind if you want me to just brew it,” you offer, hoping he’ll say yes. Maybe he’ll leave you alone, and you’ll be able to get out of class early. The windowless classroom is stuffy with potion steam, and you already feel slightly overwhelmed. You glance up to meet Sirius’s shocked gaze.
“That’s bollocks, I’ll help. Should be fair,” he scoffs, and grabs a jar of leeches to begin slicing.
“Just an offer,” you mutter, absentmindedly waving your wand, murmuring to heat the cauldron to a boil. You start measuring out pomegranate juice.
“You work for the hospital wing?” Sirius asks after a moment of silence. He slides the knife along his cutting board, gathering the leeches. You’re shocked he cared enough to ask.
You and Remus weren’t friends when you began assisting Madame Pomfrey in first year. You’d been even quieter then, so you did extra credit or help around the castle to keep yourself busy. You still do, sometimes. Slughorn was happy for you to take the task of brewing healing potions off his hands, and it’s not like you spend your weekends doing anything other than studying, anyway.
“Yeah. Extra credit, or whatever. Press the flat of the blade on them to get more juice out.”
Sirius raises a brow at your instruction.
“It helps, trust me. We won’t have to wait as long for it to simmer.”
He shrugs, throwing the leeches in after crushing them. The potion almost immediately turns a light purple, as instructed. Sirius lets out a sound of surprise. You continue prepping ingredients with a slight smirk that dissolves quickly into a disgusted expression. You grimace as you pull out a slimy spider fang from a jar full of mysteriously viscous liquid. Sirius grins at the sight.
“Wicked,” he sprinkles a few lacewing flies into the cauldron, squinting up at the board. “I didn’t know you did potions for Pomfrey.”
“It’s good experience. Can only study theory for so long, I guess,” you shrug, trying to relax, crushing the fang with a pestle. Maybe he isn’t that bad, after all-
“Makes sense why you don’t have a social life.”
There it is.
You roll your eyes, throwing the crushed fang in a bit more violently than needed. Sirius looks at you curiously while measuring armadillo bile. You stay quiet and begin dicing rosemary.
“What, I’ve rendered you speechless?” he asks, batting his lashes at you.
“You’re spilling puke everywhere.”
Sirius curses when he realizes he's been over pouring into the scale, green liquid sloshing over the edges. You grit your teeth as he makes a flippant attempt to just estimate the correct amount into the cauldron.
“Are you sure you don’t need a tutor for potions, as well?” James teases over Sirius’s shoulder, eyeing the mess. The two begin bickering back and forth, giving you an opportunity to try to fix Sirius’s mistake. Adjusting the instructions slightly, you manage to alter the potion back to the correct shade of pale blue, grateful that Sirius’s attention was off of you.
Looking around for toadstool caps, you realize you’d forgotten them. You curse under your breath.
“Sirius, will you stir counterclockwise while I get the caps? It shouldn’t sit for so long, it’ll settle,” you say, ignoring his and James’s bickering.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Sirius drawls, and you walk to the storage closet.
Sirius's comments on your social life shouldn’t get to you. But they do, they always do; hearing the same thing for their entire life will affect anyone. Especially from multiple sources. It was always subtle, sure, but when students you’ve had class with for years can’t remember your name or ask if you’re a transfer student, it gets old fast.
You guess it’s your own fault, you debate, reaching up on your tiptoes to reach the toadstools. You don’t seek out any kind of social situations. You don’t necessarily yearn for friends, but the judgment is still grating. You wish you were talkative, like Sirius or James. It would be easier.
As you glance back at your station, you see Sirius smirking across the room at the same curly-haired Ravenclaw he’d been staring at earlier. They're mouthing words back and forth, the Ravenclaw's freckled face a light pink. Sirius isn’t even looking at your potion, absolutely not stirring it- it’s definitely ruined beyond fixing by now. You grit your teeth, clutching the jar of toadstools tightly.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice an open vial of willow root powder precariously close to the edge of your shared cauldron. You frown slightly, head spinning. I’d never remember you if you weren’t practically married to Moony; makes sense why you don’t have a social life. Sirius needs someone to knock him down a peg. Plus, you can’t help that you want to see that smug face drop.
Walking down the aisle, hands full, you silently spell the vial into the cauldron.
The explosion is startlingly instant; the potion bursts and splatters everywhere around the station, leaving a sticky, viscous orange slime coating everything- which happens to include Sirius’s dumbfounded face. There’s a pause following the bang, then it’s suddenly replaced with loud, rowdy laughter from the rest of the class. James is cackling, Remus is smirking- Remus’s eyes flick to catch yours, and he gives you a knowing look. You shrug discreetly, grinning back. You look at Sirius again, watching as his jaw clenches and he scrapes potion off of his eyes, leaving two perfect stripes of pale skin surrounded by orange. The laughter grows even louder, and Slughorn begins to yell over it, attempting to rein in the crowd.
“Alright, alright, what did I say, Mister Black?”
Sirius attempts to wipe his face clean with a dirtied sleeve, trying to hide his disgust with a poorly-executed jovial grin. “Must’ve accidentally knocked it in, Professor. Clumsy me.”
Sirius meets your gaze, and you raise a smug eyebrow, tilting your head. He glares at you, eyes cold.
“Thirty points from Gryffindor for your mindlessness, Mister Black. Let this be a lesson to all of you- the explosive properties willow root has to leech juice can be incredibly dangerous when creating corrosive potions. You’re lucky this is an antidote, sir. Off to the hospital wing for a dissolving solution. I’m afraid it’ll be a bit difficult to clean,” Slughorn shoos, grimacing at the orange footsteps Sirius leaves in his wake. The professor turns to face you, and for a moment your heart drops at the possibility of being caught.
“Dismissed, L/N,” Slughorn says, grabbing the jar from your hands. You sigh in relief. Slughorn misinterprets your sigh as forlorn, assuring you, “You’ll get full marks due to your previous work for myself and Madame Pomfrey, don’t fret, you’ve proved yourself capable. But perhaps try controlling him a bit more next class, yes?”
He gives you a belittling pat on the shoulder. You try not to clench your jaw too obviously, giving him a strained smile. You walk to grab your bag that’s safely tucked away under your station, tiptoeing to avoid puddles of ooze. Remus catches your wrist as you pass.
“You need to work on your aim next time,” he mutters through a grin, gesturing to a stained textbook in front of him. You tilt your head, eyes sparkling.
“Worth it. See you.”
“She didn’t…?” James started, glancing between your retreating form and the crime scene. Remus pretends to not hear him, stirring their potion.