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April 10th, 7:15am.
Sirius stormed in through Hogwarts Primary and Secondary School's golden gate. Not in a way that may suggest that he was angry, but more in the way his walking pattern resembled a storm, a tornado; making everyone around him walk away, let him through; because he was just like that, a storm—terribly beautiful, making everyone go away because he was too much, but turning towards him just to be able to look.
Sirius, James, and their friend Peter Pettigrew (but mostly Sirius and James) had grown up well and handsomely, earning the popularity of the students, as pranksters, athletes; the Marauders.
Everyone knew who they were. The ones who were older than them either looked at them with fondness or annoyance; the younger, with admiration; and those too young to know who they were—well, those learned fast. So yeah, it was safe to say everyone knew who the Marauders were.
"Hey, Black!" a blonde-haired figure moved towards him in the sea of people, breaking the trend.
Well, the Marauders and the girls.
"Marls," Sirius grinned, as he bowed dramatically and mockingly, so, essentially, everything everyone saw him as.
Marlene McKinnon was one of a kind. Sirius thought she was one of the bravest people he had ever met, with intelligence usually ignored by most, and an ungodly amount of knowledge on musicals. She and Sirius had originally bonded back when they were thirteen—Sirius had just discovered his love for music from the 70s, and Marlene had quite the collection of records. On his fourteenth birthday, egged on by all the boys, he had kissed her, and she had kissed him back. Then, they started dating, because, why not? She was beautiful, and kind, and smart, and honestly so aligned with what Sirius considered ‘he should like’.
Obviously, in the end, they hadn’t worked out, having opposite sexualities; Marlene’s whole personality being based on the sentence “ew, a guy; fuck, she’s hot,” and Sirius being the self-proclaimed ‘biggest gay in existence’. Actually, it was thanks to her that Sirius had figured the whole thing out. One day, she had sat him down in her room and tried to gently (as gentle Marlene McKinnon could be) tell him that she essentially wasn’t the least attracted to him, and that she was a lesbian. There, it kind of clicked; Sirius had known that queer people existed, and yet, it felt like a foreign idea, something that wasn’t really real, or at least in his experience. So when she started explaining to him how hot on a scale from one to ten some of the girls in their grade were, Sirius just blurted out ‘none of them are hot’ and Marlene had stared at him, and they talked some more, and then they cried a bit.
So yes, Sirius had known the girl for quite some time, and despite them having the typical ‘I hate you but I actually love you’ type of friendship, he was quite attached to her, and she was one of his closest friends.
“What do you have in first period?” Sirius asked her, as they started walking to class.
“Ugh, History with Binns.” Marlene groaned through her bubblegum, to which Sirius wordlessly outstretched his hand and she popped one of the little squares in it from her pocket without a second thought.
Sirius took the gum and chewed slowly, humming in approval as he tasted the only quite valid flavor of chewing gum: bubblegum. Then, he groaned back sympathetically. “God, I hate that man so much. Where is he at night when I’m battling my insomnia?”
“I know, right?”
They continued down the corridors chatting like that, talking about random things that no one cared about and which they would forget right when they walked into class. Sirius wouldn’t change that for the world. It was a little bit of his routine that Sirius couldn’t see himself without.
They stopped in front of one of the history classrooms, and they waved their goodbyes (Marlene mimicking a gunshot to her head that left Sirius snickering). Sirius put his hands in his uniform pockets and continued the path to his history classroom by himself.
The English Lit classroom was pretty big, a semi-circle filled with ancient desks and chairs that had probably seen too much, god forbid.
It was glorious, really; the feeling of entering a room by opening a door that blocked all noise from the inside. It meant that, as he opened it, it was almost as if another universe was uncovered; of new noises and people and different laughter and chatter from those people. And as he closed it, he eliminated the existence of the past reality. But while it was ajar, it was like two different worlds touched, brushed against each other, and that limbo was wonderful.
The door of this specific classroom was at the very back, meaning he entered And was immediately at the last row of desks. And, because Sirius was the bad boy par excellence, he always sat at the back. How else could one wreak havoc if he didn’t?
“Boys,” he nodded in greeting, smiling that signature mischievous Sirius Black grin.
And there were his two best friends: James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.
James Potter, ah, James Potter. Well, we’ve already spoken about him. Jet-black, messy as fuck hair. Deep hazel eyes, slightly lighter than his skin. Black and thin horn rimmed glasses that had taken a hideously long time to change into; once truly terrible, weird goggles-type of spectacles. A jock, really; could play literally any sport, and all about those jerseys and denim jackets. And 90s grunge fashion for men that oddly fitted his personality. Insane knack for mischief, and equally as uncaring as Sirius—or, maybe not. He had always been a bit more down to earth about that, a bit calmer, more collected; more difficult to be riled up.
Peter Pettigrew. An interesting boy. With straight, blond hair and a round face, though not because of that less attractive. Watery blue eyes with an odd intensity behind them; Peter out of the three of them had always been the most observing one. Since he was often overlooked—seen as less handsome, less clever, less everything than James and Sirius—and often stayed at the sidelines while the other two did what they did because of that, he often observed, and was good at it. The boy read people easily, and was impossible to read. Thanks to that and his amazing deductions skills (which were balanced out by James’ utter obliviousness), Sirius had infinite access to the best school gossip. Amazing sense of fashion and unironically good at sewing; scarily good at literally any board game or videogame.
Sadly, Peter wasn’t any good at basketball. In fact, he was terrible; couldn’t hold onto the ball if his life depended on it. But he had a certain talent in racket-type sports—tennis, squash, paddle tennis, raquetball, badmington; fuck, he was even good at ping-pong.
“Heyo, Pads,” Peter smiled at him. He was sitting in one of the three chairs of the joint desk, with James next to him. Who, very out of character, didn’t answer Sirius in any way, and didn’t even acknowledge him. His gaze was fixed on a spot on the other side of the classroom, or, perhaps, it wasn’t; maybe he was spaced out and alone with his thoughts.
“Jamie?” Sirius said, using his shoulder to sit himself down on the chair next to him. Despite them living in the same house, they actually rarely went to school together. James liked to be up in the ass crack of dawn, ever the spry person, to do who knows what, while Sirius stayed in bed for as long as he could, and then rushed to school. So, even if they were joined at the hip and seen together literally everywhere, the path to school was the rare occasion where they weren’t.
“Hm? Oh, hey Sirius,” he snapped out of his weird trance, though he still said it distractedly. Sirius frowned, and followed his brother’s previous line of sight, and oh, there it was, the bane of James’ existence; the one and only Lily Evans.
Sirius could see the appeal, really. She was objectively pretty; all long curves and wavy ginger hair, fair-freckled skin and startling green eyes. Except, well, Sirius was gay.
James had been smitten with her for years. At the beginning, back when they were eleven, it had started as a half-joke; but the infatuation had honestly always been there. And so he was, in one word, annoying; and in three, extremely fucking obnoxious. And really, everything happened because James Potter’s unbreakable cool bravado was broken in weird ways by Evans’ presence, and so he got nervous.
During Spring Break James had finally understood the big deal of his actions, and had immediately regretted every single one of them. And so, the Marauders had performed an absurdly long oath ceremony slash ritual over a video call (Peter had gone to LA for the holidays) to promise that he would never ever make her uncomfortable again.
This was the first time he was seeing her since that, and, unluckily for him, she was talking to the boy behind her, full-blown flirting stance on.
And Sirius wasn’t sure if he had ever seen him before; auburn curls and slim figure…
The bell rang across the school, and Professor McGonagall was there, and the class had started.
Which started quite differently from usual.
“Settle down, settle down,” were words Sirius never had heard the woman speak before, as she could conjure the attention of every single person in a room to her in a matter of seconds. Was it magic? More likely than you think.
So the entire class shut up to her silence just like that.
It was the first period of the day, English Lit, and the Gryffindors had been split in two groups; one for McGonagall’s class and one for Binns’ (see: Marlene).
One of the things that made Hogwarts so unique was the division system they had among the students, four groups or, as they called it, houses. At the start of middle school—or, actually, a week or so earlier—every student got a ridiculously long personality quiz with deep, and oddly difficult to answer questions with an insane amount of possible answers. Then, they sorted you into one out of four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.
The thing is, they didn’t tell you the result until the first day of classes; and they published it in the local newspaper, The Prophet .
That had left eleven year old Sirius at the first day of school in equal parts proud and happy and dreading what would happen as he got home.
But that’s a story for another day.
Professor McGonagall was a tall, serious, and very, very Scottish woman. She was the head of house of Gryffindor, which basically meant she was like a particularly special teacher; she helped with the Gryffindors’ schedules and doubts and issues.
And despite her being strict and serious and unmoving, she still had that Gryffindor fierceness and loyalty that made Sirius trust her so much.
Also, she was extremely competitive. She and Sirius had bonded over their fury over lost games or competitions, as well as their happiness. Though the professor was marvelous at not letting emotions crack through her stern facade, Sirius would swear he—and the Marauders, for that fact—had made her crack a small grin once or twice.
“Fellow students,” she started. She looked almost relaxed, self-satisfied; a look Sirius wasn’t sure if he had seen on her face before. He wasn’t exactly sure if that was good or bad. “Please welcome a new Gryffindor into Hogwarts. I hope your welcome will be warm and you will help this young man as he has just been incorporated in the middle of the year.” she nodded coolly, and Sirius felt her gaze linger on him for a second too long until she signaled towards the kid with auburn hair at the second row.
For a second, the world stilled. The sun stopped shining, the moon darkened completely and the Earth stopped spinning. No, for a second, everything was silence; the impenetrable void that hung in the air so delicately it could break with not even a knife’s edge; as the faint murmur of the touch of fingers against it would shatter it into a million pieces, like a mirror, spreading them apart along the universe, forever unblinking, and revealing this mysterious auburn boy that would certainly turn Sirius’ world upside down in more ways than one, and that would make him find himself gasping for air as he would become breathless, lungless.
This brush of fingers against the invisible membrane that was silence took the form of James’ pencil falling to the floor, and clattering loudly for the quiet room.
Sirius saw almost in slow motion as he looked at the boy, and found himself being looked back by one unmistakable Remus Lupin as he slowly turned over himself in his chair to face the room.
“Alright,” the boy almost sighed, in his deep, Welsh baritone. It was almost funny how familiar that sound sounded, if Sirius didn’t feel such shock, and such anger bubbling inside him. What the fuck?
Exhaustion seemed to creep into the underside of his eyes, dark circles that almost seemed to be engraved in his otherwise pale, freckled skin. His greenish-amber eyes burned into his with the passion and strength of a thousand battles and a thousand flames; and Sirius nearly felt engulfed, enraptured in it, feeling like prey that has found itself into the wolf’s den.
After not being subjected to that gaze in nine months, Sirius felt the overwhelming urge to look away. Except, that would be showing a sign of distress. Of weakness, against the enemy. And Sirius didn’t feel the little bit distressed. Even if feelings and complex emotions felt like they were going to crawl out of his pores.
Anger and shock and something melted together in that nostalgic way from every Saturday afternoon, though it was missing the pre-game adrenaline. They melted and forged together into something familiar and comfortable—safe. Hatred.
The auburn haired boy’s gaze moved from his, and the heat and tension of the room seemed to ease a bit.
“Pick up your jaw from the floor, dude.” he faintly heard Peter mutter next to him. Sirius didn’t feel like he had enough energy to scowl at him.
“So, I’m Remus Lupin,” he awkwardly raised his both hands in an equaly awkward wave. Whispers immediately darted along the classroom, and Sirius felt a small amount of lingering gazes on him. Lupin raised an eyebrow and the motion was so oddly familiar that it sunk to the pit of his stomach in some weird spiral, which Sirius would consider nostalgic if there was any sort of affection between them.
“I was gonna say maybe someone had heard of me, but clearly, you know…” his eyes found Sirius’ again, solemn and unblinking. “...something.”
“This past couple o’ months I’ve been moving into a flat here in Hogsmeade, and I’ve transferred to Hogwarts because of… reasons.” he added flatly, looking almost bored, with that unimpressed look in his eye. “Now, I will let you know that I’ve quit the Wolves and that I have no intention of playing for Hogwarts.” the words ‘Wolves’ and ‘Hogwarts’ echoed bitterly in his mouth, and Sirius felt something new bubble up inside him, which he was sure that everyone in that classroom who knew what the guy was talking about (which was pretty much everyone; not many things happened in a village like Hogsmeade) felt all the same: curiosity.
Lupin nodded, his introduction concluded, and the room once again fell into whispered conversations.
Lupin didn’t even spare a glance at Sirius when he readjusted himself in his seat once again, turning to face to the front. Sirius’ gaze didn’t flicker from the nape of his neck.
“Sirius,” James said, carefully, grabbing his hand. He hadn’t realized he had been gripping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he answered robotically, without looking at him, and he knew it didn’t sound honest. He didn’t care.
He and Peter exchanged crypted glances very obviously, but Sirius didn’t find himself even caring.
“Well…” the latter said, obviously trying to defuse some of the tension, “why do you think he even left?”
And Sirius knew everyone in the room was asking themselves the same question.
What he didn’t know is that he had subconsciously asked himself that same question for over nine months.