The sound of gravel crunching under the wheels of the car seemed to echo through the whole place. It was Christmas break and for the first time, Sirius had opted to stay at Remus’ place instead of the Potter’s. In part it was the curiosity of how his other dorm mate lived, but Remus suspected that it was mostly him trying to piss off his mother by staying at a partially muggle residence. To his credit, Sirius had taken very well to the lack of magic in the Lupin household. Remus’ mother had never gotten all too used to constant spell-casting and moving pictures, her son turning into a wolf on a monthly basis was more than enough for her. But Sirius had been elated with the simplicity of muggle life. He loved watching game shows on the telly, watching microwaves and dishwashers and washing machines all do their jobs. Most of all though, Sirius had taken a liking to cars.
Specifically Remus’s car. It was boxy and the engine was loud and there was a weird clicking coming somewhere from the front right behind the dashboard, but Sirius was absolutely smitten with it. He thought it was the coolest little piece of machinery he had ever come into contact with. It gave him and Remus the type of freedom to travel anywhere in the muggle world in a way Sirius could never have dreamt up. The music crackled through the speakers, though Remus had turned it down because he claimed his migraines were due to hearing the same songs from the tape over and over again. Personally, Sirius was convinced they were from the lack of anything besides smoke entering his body during the day. The smell of cigarettes seemed to hang around the car like a thick fog, but it had begun to bring comfort to Sirius. After all, it was a reminder that it had been Remus who had taught him how to smoke.
Sirius could still remember the way he had woken from his restless sleep, hit with a cold draft and the sound of the door to the boys shared door closing. Initially, his drowsy state had tensed for a fight, thinking someone had come into their room in the dead of night. However, when he realized there was no more movement in the room, he knew someone had left. He knew it wasn’t James, as he could still hear the light snoring that was his telltale sign for being out cold, and Peter leaving the safety of the dorm at night seemed unlikely. Turning over, the open curtains of the prefect of the group missing from his bed, curtains thrown open almost hastily. The heir of the House of Black, now wide awake, pulled himself to his feet. He hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, and following Remus out past curfew seemed much more interesting. Waking James didn’t even cross the boy's mind. Later he would wonder why, as he and James always pried into other peoples business together, however, he’d be grateful for the lack of company.
Quietly, he had creeped towards James’s bedside table, not needing to look hard to find the map. The idiot hadn’t thought to take it with him on his evening escapade, though it made Sirius’s job of finding him much easier. Quietly, Sirius left the room, after having hastily found some old muggle clothes Remus had leant him and consequently never gotten back. The black, long-sleeved top and mildly tattered jeans seemed like the correct type of clothes to go midnight searching in, they allowed him to move much quieter than his robes, which constantly rustled and billowed as he walked. To his good fortune, he had no need to creep around, as according to the map, not even Filch was stalking the halls at such an hour. Sirius had almost been worried the map was broken, with the way he couldn’t find any name anywhere on it. Never had he seen the map blank of people. YThat was until he finally spotted Remus’s, wandering up the stairs of the astronomy tower.
Sirius had huffed quietly, not particularly in the mood for any kind of late night cardio. He immediately headed in the direction all the same.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he would never do the same for James or Peter. If it had been either of them he saw at the top of the astronomy tower in the dead of night, he’d probably just go back to bed and ask them about it in the morning. But something about the fact that it was Remus made the thought of turning back ludicrous. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Remus wouldn’t tell him if he asked. Unlike the other two, Remus didn’t feel the need to share the details of his life or how he spent his time. He simply did and let the rest figure it out on their own. It was probably the reason Sirius admired Remus so much. He admired all the boys in Marauders of course, he wouldn’t be friends with them if he didn’t think them incredible people, but it had always been different with Remus. He had always felt the need to impress Remus. More-so than the others at least. So, for Remus, he trekked up the stairs to the astronomy tower. Somewhere deep inside, Sirius was also aware that it had been the fastest he had ever made the climb.
The palm of his hand pressed against the rough bottom of the trap door that led to the top of the tower. At the first crack of the trapdoor, his senses were flooded with the scent that often clung to Remus’s muggle clothes, and as he gained more view of the tower, he finally knew why. There sat Remus Lupin, back pressed to one of the pillars of the tower, honey eyes cast downwards as if they were watching the dark grounds. And a cigarette, hanging loosely between his fingers.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Sirius commented, stepping out through the trapdoor and wandering over to sit by Remus. The boy in question only looked mildly surprised by Sirius’s appearance, and not at all guilty about the habit he seemed to have picked up. Sirius dropped himself down next to Remus, possibly a little closer than necessary, but he gave himself the reason that it was cold. Remus didn’t seem to mind, letting their shoulders and knees bump against each other. He raised the cigarette to his lips again, vaguely considering the comment Sirius had made.
His hair was more frizzy than usual, looking almost as messy as James’s did on a daily basis, signifying a sleep as restless as Sirius’s had been. Sirius hoped that he didn’t look as near of a mess as Remus did, with heavy bags under his eyes and nearly sickly pale skin. Remus had also had the mind to throw on muggle clothes, dressing himself in loose jeans and one of his jumpers that Pete called a ‘grandpa sweater’. It was one of the large, fuzzy, brown ones with stripes across it that hung off of Remus’s thin body in a lumpy way. Sirius liked those jumpers. He liked them because it was so clear Remus liked them, and if Remus liked them, they were cool.
“Can I try?” Sirius asked, sounding almost thoughtful. Remus’s eyes had shifted to stare directly into his as he took another drag of the cigarette. It had felt as if the taller boy was considering Sirius as an entire person in those few seconds, before shrugging his shoulders easily and passing the cig. Sirius found himself hesitating as soon as he had the paper-y roll in his hand. He knew he must look awkward with the way he gripped it, and he found himself looking back at Remus as if asking for help. It was under the other boys curious gaze that he lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled through it.
The taste of smoke hit his taste buds, creeping towards the back of his throat. His body tensed to gag, but he held down the urge as the new sensation assaulted his senses. With a lack of grace, he quickly exhaled, the smoke pouring from his mouth and quickly dissipating into the atmosphere around them. Sirius had managed to avoid hacking with the hasty exhale, but he was sure that even in the dark Remus would catch the grimace on his face. His tongue ran along the roof of his mouth, picking up the aftertaste of the smoke. Weirdly enough, it tasted the way Remus smelled, and the Heir of House Black decided that he didn’t remotely dislike it. When he turned to look at the taller of the two, he was met with Remus’s amused expression. His eyebrows had been pulled up so they were nearly covered by his bangs and his lips gave a crooked kind of smile.
Sirius dearly hoped that his flush would be covered by the darkness. Still, it was at his insistence that the two stay up there as he learned to smoke properly. The reason he gave Remus was that it would solidify his aesthetic as the dark ‘bad-boy’ for all the girls to fawn over, rather than admit that he liked the stolen time that felt like it belonged to just the two of them. They had worked through nearly half a pack by the time the sun had begun to peak over the mountains in the distance. Sirius was sure the smell of smoke never fully left the clothes from that night. Whenever James or Pete inquired about it, all he could offer were giddy giggles when he met Remus’s smug looking gaze.
Pressure against his hand brought him out of his reminicion. It was clutching the shift lever of the car, underneath Remus’s. Sirius had been set on wanting to feel what Remus felt while driving. He wanted to feel as if he knew what Remus meant when he said he could feel the motor of the car while he drove, as if it wasn’t an inside joke for Remus alone. Remus had explained that most of the feeling was in the clutch, but the gear shift was the closest Sirius could get to that feeling. He could hear the engine pick up slightly as the RPM’s shot past the 4 mark, before dropping below the 2 as Remus shifted the gear down. The vehicle itself had slowed as it rumbled over the gravel path, through an area of town Sirius could never have guessed existed. There were industrial buildings that seemed to scrape the sky. Thick, dark clouds oozed from them and trailed up even higher.
They came to what seemed to be a train park. The large brown and grey compartments from the train had been parked off of the rails, past the railroad crossing. Just as Remus parked the car on the other side, the red lights at the railroad crossing started and the gate fell, blocking the way back. The two boys climbed out of the car and Sirius became acutely aware of how warm the car had been, as the cold winter air nipped at his face. The two boys settled on the hood of the car as the train roared by.
Normally, Sirius would be watching the carts go by, admiring the spray paint that decorated the sides. The first time he had seen street art he had urgently asked Remus about it, not understanding why people would vandalize buildings in such a way. Remus had smiled fondly and told him that it was people making their mark on the world. People making sure they wouldn’t be forgotten quickly. He had then promptly taken Sirius to see his favorite piece of street art. Remus had told him how it had been painted by a friend he had made back in muggle school.
It had been a portrait, Sirius thought he would always remember it with the same clarity as when he first saw it. A portrait of a very pretty lady, her face tilted upwards and one perfectly manicured hand raised to brush against her throat. She wore make-up on her face that contrasted a powdery white and stunning red. Meanwhile her hair was tied into a high bun with loops of hair creating rings around her head. Her background was filled with red accents and Sirius was sure he’d never seen anything so captivating. When he had looked over to Remus, he could see how the boys eyes were glazed with tears he wouldn’t let spill. Remus had told him about the muggle friend of his, and about how the friend’s mother had died during their time in school. Remus had told him about how the friends injuries had begun to rival Remus’s after that, as their fathers grief overtook him. Remus had told Sirius about the friends fear of not surviving his home and about how that friend had simply not shown up to school one day. And then never again. Sirius could remember how Remus held himself together when he told Sirius that the teachers hadn’t heard anything from the family and eventually everyone just assumed that the family had moved away. Remus had never heard from his friend again.
Sirius had made Remus promise that they’d make their own one day. That they’d find cans of paint and leave their mark on some brick wall or train car somewhere, so the world wouldn’t forget them in a hurry. Remus had chuckled an agreement and Sirius had begun brainstorming ideas that night. It was a shame neither was any type of an artist. Sirius liked to think that was because they were both meant to be the art. Of course Sirius knew he was beautiful. He was a pureblood, with porcelain skin and glossy raven hair. He was made to look a deadly type of elegant in portraits, made to be devastatingly handsome. Remus… objectively, was not. He had frizzy brown hair that he didn’t take care of. He was tall and thin, made of gangly limbs that gave him an awkward sort of energy. Asymmetrical scars littered his entire body, rivaled in frequency only by his freckles. His fingers were knobbly, his smile was crooked, and he constantly looked unwell.
All the same, Sirius found himself watching Remus, captivated. There was nobody in the world who could rival Remus in beauty, he thought. Nobody else who had the uncanny ability of bringing people to ease the way Remus did. Nobody else who could make you feel so good about simply being. Nobody as patient, nobody as cheeky. No feeling compared to that of seeing Remus smile in the illuminating way he did and knowing that you were the one to cause it. And as Sirius watched Remus’s eyes reflect the orange glow of the flame he used to start a new cigarette, he felt himself overwhelmed with the joy that he got to be there, with Remus.
Remus, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the overwhelming emotions Sirius was feeling. Rather he offered the started cig to Sirius, which the ravenette accepted easily, bringing it to his lips. He watched Remus start another one, the flame of the lighter igniting his eyes again and turning them into molten honey. Honey that turned Sirius into a fly, trapping him in place. Had he always been so aware of his own heartbeat? Had he always had such a deep urge to taste the smoke from Remus’s lips? He practically could, the two were sitting so close together that Sirius was inhaling half the smoke from Remus’s lips. Their shoulders were bumping and the smoke seemed to be filling his head in a way that removed any reason from it. It was only the sharp bite of realization that kept him from leaning forwards a little bit more. The heir of House Black blinked his eyes a few times, bringing his eyes up from Remus’s chapped lips back to his eyes, before turning his head away fully to watch the train go by. Instead, he gave into his body’s wish to lean against the werewolf, who due to his condition was essentially a walking furnace. The warmth from where Remus’s skin met his brought Sirius to a sobering realization. Remus could probably feel the heat that filled Sirius’s cheeks where he was leaning against him, but Sirius tried not to focus on the new flame ignited within him as he watched the train go by.