window
“Why are you so nervous?” Remus asks bluntly, leaning against a tree with an open book in his lap. You’re sitting across from him in the courtyard, parchment and textbooks open on the grass, cramming for a Charms test you have next period. “You’re great at Charms. You know all the material anyway,” he claims.
“I’m not nervous about Charms.”
“What about, then?” he shuts his book, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
“I, uh…” you keep your eyes locked on the page in front of you, wincing, “kinda-told-Sirius-I’d tutor-him-tonight.”
“What?” Remus exclaims, mouth agape, “Since when? What the fuck- oh, that’s why you wanted to talk to him at breakfast-”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” you snap, looking up and immediately feeling remorse when you see his dropped expression, “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” you trail off, staring back down at the textbook and gnawing on your lip. Your face flushes with embarrassment. Remus’s eyes soften at how stressed you seem.
“You’re alright. I did ask you to, but I don’t want you to tutor him if you don’t want to,” his voice is soothing, but you keep your eyes on your book, pretending to comprehend the text.
“I don’t mind tutoring him. I’m just a little nervous, is all.”
“Well, what made you change your mind?” Remus asks, eyebrows raised, lips twitching upward smugly.
“I told him that I’d tutor him if he didn’t say anything about the, uh, nonverbal-wandless thing,” you mutter, lifting up a page and pretending to inspect it, attempting to look nonchalant. Remus snorts, turning a page of his book, settling back against the gnarled tree trunk.
“Sure. You and I both know he wouldn’t have said anything if you’d just asked. Sirius is a lot of things, but he’s not a gossip when it comes to rubbish that actually matters.”
Your stomach churns, and you click your tongue. You hate that Remus knows you so well. You can feel him seeing right through you.
“I just don’t want to take any chances. You know how our… relationship is.”
“Mhm.”
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I just- he’s always been weird to me, and I can’t have that getting out. Plus, I don’t know, I feel like I owe it to him, I sorta blew up on him…”
“You did blow up on him. After he was a prick.”
“Still.”
“I’ve told Sirius and James before that I don’t want you in the Shack because it’s dangerous. Sirius told me he was upset the other night because he didn’t know you were an animagus, and he was worried you were going to get hurt. He was an ass about it, but he really was just concerned for you. But he hasn’t been a prick since, and you haven’t blown up on him since, right? So, I think you’re pretty even. And I think-” his voice lilts, “-that you know that. Just admit you’re curious about him.”
“‘Curious’ isn’t the right word,” you mutter sourly.
“What, does ‘fascinated’ work better? Ooh, or ‘attracted’, maybe-”
“Oh my god, Remus, you know I can’t stand him, will you just give it a rest?” you groan, and Remus grins into his book.
“What are you moaning about? Please tell me it’s anything other than Sirius, he hasn’t shut up about you all morning.” James appears beside you, plopping down on the grass carelessly, running a hand through his hair.
“No-”
“Yes-”
You and Remus begin talking at the same time, and your head snaps to Remus with a look of betrayal. James laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Huh. Didn’t think the obsession went both ways. I expected more from you.”
You sputter, “Wh- obsession? I’m not- wait, he’s been talking about me? What are you-”
“James is just giving you a hard time,” Remus interjects, glaring at him. James shrugs, grinning, pulling a snitch out of his pocket and tossing it in the air. Its golden wings flutter open, and it zips around Remus before James snatches it back with ease.
“He hasn’t stopped yapping about you tutoring him since this morning. It’s both annoying and adorable. Mostly annoying, though.”
“I don’t know why he’s so excited about it. It’s tutoring, not anything thrilling,” you scoff, running your fingers over the book pages in front of you absentmindedly. James scoffs.
“It’s tutoring with you, obviously he’s excited.”
You glance up, eyebrows furrowed, “Why would that make studying any more exciting? You know how he doesn’t necessarily like me.”
James scoffs. “Yeah, he-” he starts, but Remus cuts him off by clearing his throat. James rolls his eyes. You look between them in confusion.
“What?”
“You’re more interesting than you give yourself credit for,” Remus says gently, and James leans forward suddenly, grabbing a blur of gold from in front of your nose. You huff, rolling your eyes at both of them.
“I don’t know how to take that.”
“You’ve got this whole ‘hot-mysterious-nerd’ type of thing going on,” James says casually, letting the snitch circle around his head.
“‘Hot-mysterious-nerd’. Right, how interesting,” you drawl.
“You’re the only person in Hogwarts who hasn’t practically thrown themselves down Sirius’s pants, mate. He’s always thought you were interesting.”
You hum noncommittally, glancing at your watch and starting to pack away your things, “Yeah, well, he’s not really interesting to me. Not my type of person, I guess.”
James and Remus raise their brows at you in unison, and Remus says, “Well, what’s your type, then?”
You feel your cheeks get hot, and stutter, “I don’t- not him.”
“You know what?” James starts, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you even have a crush on anyone.”
“I didn’t even mean- whatever. Some of us aren’t as painfully obvious as you are, James.”
“That’s arguable,” Remus mutters, and you send him a glare.
“Oh, really, Rem, who have I ever had an obvious thing for?”
“Hm, well, his name starts with an ‘S’ and ends with ‘irius’-”
“Oh fuck off, mate,” you groan, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder as Remus and James snicker, “I do not have a bloody crush on Black. I have an ounce of self-respect.”
“Sure. See you later, yeah?” Remus calls after you as you begin walking away.
“Yeah, yeah,” you call over your shoulder, trying to hide your red cheeks as the bell rings.
---
“Hey, why aren’t you sitting with the boys?” Lily asks, sliding in beside you on the bench. You jump when she does, head snapping up from your book.
“Shit, Lily, you scared me,” you laugh shakily, going back to the novel in front of you.
“What’s wrong?” she says, nodding to where you’ve ditched your dinner. Her eyebrows are furrowed.
You sigh, glancing and gesturing down the table discreetly. Sirius is sitting with Remus and James, as always, rambunctiously laughing and yelling. He’s telling Remus a story, something to do with James; Sirius’s eyes flick to you just as he’s pulled James into a headlock. Your eyes meet, and his brighten, eyebrows raising in acknowledgement. James’s face is slowly turning pink from asphyxiation when Sirius winks at you, a smirk pulling on his lips. Your mind stutters to a stop, eyes blinking in shock. You know you must be bright red by the way Sirius smugly turns away.
“That’s what’s wrong,” you grumble, turning away from the Marauders and back to Lily. You’re scowling, face hot with embarrassment. Lily’s mouth is agape, eyes flicking between you and Sirius.
“No,” she gapes, grabbing your arm. Your mind finally manages to work again after the wink, and you realize what she must be thinking.
“No, Lily, I don’t-”
“Oh my god, you slept with him!”
“No, Merlin, slow down, I absolutely did not!” you cry, and whisper, glancing around, “And keep your fucking voice down!”
“Then what the bloody hell was that?” she gestures wildly, speaking in a strained whisper.
“I don’t know! He’s been acting weird since I told him I’d tutor him!”
“You’re going to tutor him?”
You fill Lily in on the details, whispering quickly.
She sighs your name exasperatedly, “It’s Sirius. He’s flirting with you.”
“Well, I don’t want him to! And it’s not real, obviously! I know he’s just doing it to make fun of me ‘cause it gets under my skin,” you swallow thickly, picking at your cuticles.
“He’s always- ow!” Lily cries, hand flying up to her cheek as her nose scrunches up with pain. You raise your eyebrows at her. “I’m fine, just bit my tongue,” she responds, “But you’re meeting up with him tonight, right? Why not try to get the best of it? Maybe you’ll hit it off and you can both finally get over this stupid feud. Keep an open mind.”
“An 'open mind' when it comes to Black is impossible,” you scoff.
“Just give him another chance. He’s annoying as all hell, but he’s a good bloke.”
You nod at her, standing and shouldering your bag. You inhale deeply as you do, giving her a halfhearted smile.
“You’re right, I will. I’m gonna head to the library early. Wish me luck.”
“Wishing you so, so much luck. Use protection,” she chirps, shooting you a grin before turning to chat with Mary. You smack her across the head as you walk by.
You catch Sirius’s eye as you pass, and he sits up a bit straighter, yelling over the chatter, “See you later!”
You give him a strained smile, quickly looking away; but a hand reaches out to grab your wrist and pull you down before you can pass. Remus quickly comes into your field of view, giving you a questioning look.
“What?” you laugh lightly, and he seems to relax a little, but he still eyes you wearily.
“Just tell me how it goes,” he mutters. His eyes flick back to gesture to Sirius, who’s across the table arm wrestling James. Your eyes snap back to meet Remus’s gentle gaze again. You try to give him a convincing smile despite the pit in your stomach.
“Aye aye,” you salute. He squeezes your wrist before dropping it, giving you a soft smile and going back to his dinner. You turn around and try to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
---
The Hogwarts library has been your personal haven for the last six years. The dusty, ancient smell of well-worn books dances under your nose as you enter. Your shoulders relax, comforted by the quiet. The only sound is an occasional flipped page or novel being magically slipped back into place. The expansive rows of maze-like shelves are all familiar to you, your feet falling in a well-traveled path. Your regular route begins through the magical beasts section to check up on a book that seems to change every time you read it; take a left once you reach the weird stain on the carpet in the ancient runes section; duck into the meager, under-visited muggle novel section to pick out a few classics; and finally take one last turn to reach the cozy reading nook a few rows away from the restricted section.
Your favorite nook houses a few scattered cushions and two tall wingback chairs flanking a table. The chairs are angled to face the largest stained glass window Hogwarts has- it towers over the library, yet you’ve never seen anyone admire it. You can’t imagine why.
The floating candles' flickering flames reflect off of thousands of jewel-toned glass shards. They depict a wooded landscape similar to the Forbidden Forest. Multiple times throughout the day, the glass shifts from a light pink sunrise, to a bright blue day, and to a deep purple night. You’ve spent many long days here, glancing up occasionally to see a completely different environment- rain, snow, sunshine, autumn, winter, spring. You swear you can see figures darting between the trees sometimes.
You drop your bag on the table haphazardly and bury yourself into the cushions of your chair, opening your book again in hopes of distracting yourself. Sirius shouldn’t be here for at least half an hour- you skipped out of dinner quite early. You think of his face again, so bright and full of excitement. Your stomach is in such tight knots that you doubt you would have been able to eat, anyway.
It’s the part of the day where the sun has just set, but the candles traveling overhead haven’t brightened quite yet. The corners of the library are veiled in shadow. Glancing up at the window, you notice you can’t quite make out the glass. You flick your hand, sending a ball of light to hover near it, craning your neck to get a better view. The trees are dark and lush now, the deep amethyst sky full of animated constellations. Sagittarius lets an arrow fly across the window. A crescent moon rises, embraced by fast-moving wisps of grey clouds. The forest is unstable- trees creaking and groaning against the wind.
“Wow.”
You start, the ball of light flickering. You turn to see Sirius standing behind you, slack-jawed. “Oh- hey,” you say through a shaky laugh, “you scared me. Yeah, it’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“You have to teach me how to do that.”
Sirius's piercing eyes linger on you. His skin seems to glow in the candlelight, cloak hastily thrown on, chest rising and falling heavily, one hand gripping his still-swinging satchel. Your brows furrow.
“Did you follow me?”
“That’s really… you’re really something else.”
Your brow furrows further, and you drawl, “...Gee, thanks. You know how to make a girl blush.”
He blinks out of some kind of daze, eyes flicking away from you in embarrassment for less than a moment before he puts on his regular smirk. “It’s a compliment. I’m sure they’re new to you, but try to keep up.” He throws his bag on the table, partially landing on your own, before plopping into the chair in front of you. His posture is horrible, his elbow on the wood with his fist holding his slightly shadowed chin up. Grey eyes peer at you curiously.
“You’re acting weird. You didn’t answer my question,” you observe, anxiety still churning your gut. You tuck away your book and pull out your wand, twirling it between your fingers to keep your hands busy.
Sirius raises a dark brow, “This is a weird situation, isn’t it? And I was bored, saw you left dinner early, so I left a bit after you.”
You click your tongue, tilting your head side to side in thought, “Yeah, I guess it is. I guess I’m still not used to talking to you.”
“Or talking to anyone.”
“Ha.”
“Oh!” Sirius’s eyes brighten and he sits up quickly, rummaging around in his bag before pulling out something carefully wrapped in a napkin. He holds the slightly crushed package out to you, raising his eyebrows when you eye it wearily.
“Come on, it’s not a dung bomb. I wouldn’t do that a second time. You just barely ate and left before dessert.”
You take it, unwrapping it cautiously- inside the napkin sits your favorite pastry. Your eyebrows furrow.
“How’d you know this is my favorite? Did Remus tell you?” you look up at him, chest tight.
He shrugs, giving you a small smile out of the corner of his mouth. “No. I pay attention. Sometimes.”
Sirius actually looks sincere, shy, a little proud, but not flamboyantly so- you’re not sure how to comprehend it. The space behind your eyes feels like it’s pulled taught. You swallow thickly, looking back down at the dessert. “Thank you.”
“Why’d you rush out of dinner?”
“I dunno. Antsy, I guess.”
“So excited to see me that you rushed to the library?”
You scoff, trying to fight the warmth you feel in your cheeks, “Excited to get it over with.”
“You wound me. I brought you a danish, aren’t you supposed to like me now?” Sirius says, teeth shining. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. His face looks warm and inviting in the glow of your lumos overhead. The ball of light flickers for a moment again as you lose your concentration. He looks up, grey eyes reflecting your spell.
“How’d you learn to do that?”
“I spend a lot of time alone in the restricted section. Perks of having ‘no social life’ I guess,” you snark.
“Ah, makes sense,” Sirius shoots back, stretching and cracking his neck, “Old habits die hard.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Sirius shrugs, “We have our vices. I was mean, you were stuck-up.”
You scoff disbelievingly, “I was not stuck-up.”
He raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking back down over his nose to meet yours, “You wouldn’t even talk to me. Or Reg. Or any of the other kids. Just read or stared off at nothing, like you were too good to be there.”
“I was shy, so your next approach was to tease me?”
A slow grin spreads over his face. “It made you pay attention to me, didn’t it?”
“Barely,” you drawl, leaning back in your chair and looking up at the window. “You were just annoying.”
“And what am I now?”
You don’t let your eyes waver from the jeweled Forbidden Forest despite the heat of his stare on your cheek. “Still annoying. Worse, actually.”
He snorts out a laugh, and you have to restrain the curl of your lip. “Better to be annoying than stuck-up.”
“If you were ‘stuck-up’ maybe you’d be better at transfiguration.”
“Ah, always the academic. Right, back to business.”
Sirius pulls out his wand and a handful of crumpled scrolls that seemed to be loose in his bag. He shuffles through them haphazardly, squinting at the looping handwriting and smudged ink. You wrinkle your nose.
“What are you struggling with, exactly? Has McGonagall said anything?”
He tilts his head to the side, trying to decipher his own handwriting on one page before crumpling it up and shoving it back into his bag, “Yeah. My form is apparently off- along with about everything else. I just don’t get it- I can usually just say the spell and it happens.”
“You’re letting your wand do all of the work, not doing anything consciously. You need to learn where your magic comes from, rather than it just being an expectation,” you say, and he drops the pages on the table, looking up at you curiously.
“Huh. Cool. Where’d you learn that?”
You shrug, “Sorta just figured it out. We aren’t taught why we’re able to do what we do- we’re just told some words to say and a way to hold a wand, not to think about how to control the way magic feels. Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about- but it helps me, at least.” You tap on the desk, thinking. “When you cast a spell, what does it feel like?”
Sirius sits back in his seat, debating for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he says, “I’ve never thought of it like that, I guess.”
“You smoke, don’t you?” you ask, and he raises his eyebrows in shock at you. You hold firm in your question despite knowing the answer. He’s smelled faintly of cigarettes since fifth year.
“What, are you going to rat me out?” he smirks, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“No. It’s just an easy way to explain it- think of casting a spell like exhaling. Letting go of something from yourself, and directing that energy, that smoke, in a controlled way- magic is like that, just a little more complicated. Like smoke with... feelings.”
“Like smoke with feelings,” he drawls, twirling his wand around his fingers, “right.”
You roll your eyes, “you can do nonverbal charms, can’t you?”
“Barely.”
“Try one you can barely do, but think about what I said.”
He looks at you skeptically before sitting up and clearing his throat. Raising his wand, he flicks it at the papers in front of him. They shift on the table halfheartedly, and he looks back up at you expectantly.
“They were supposed to fly,” he clarifies, deadpan.
“Try again. Remember, exhale. Picture letting the magic out, guiding it to do what you want, rather than expecting it to,” you say patiently. He sighs, shuffles in his seat, brows furrowed, before taking a breath and trying again.
Slowly, slowly, the stack of papers raises in the air in time with his wand; eyes flashing, he flicks it upwards, sending the papers scattering through the air with a whoop of celebration.
“Holy shit!” he cries, smiling wide enough to wrinkle around his eyes, glowing and bright with excitement, “That’s- that’s amazing! I’ve never been able to do that before- you’re amazing!”
You flush, swallowing thickly through a smile, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Transfiguration is a lot harder.”
“That felt fantastic- I just learned more from you than I have from anyone here in years.”
Pride spills, hot and syrupy, down your throat and into your chest.