Remus Lupin was a fixer of problems. Anyone, or at least the Marauders and occasionally sad first-years, could express the smallest complaint or most outrageous desire, and he would do what he could for them. Even if the person themself didn’t see something as much of a concern, Remus would usually be there to fix it. It seemed almost instinctual.
Sirius absolutely loved this quality in his friend, especially because Sirius wasn’t particularly good at understanding what people needed, including himself. In general, his only two offerings were hugs and loud explosions, and even then he could rarely tell which would help a situation more. He was fine with that, but it did tend to make life a little less comfortable.
Luckily, since the age of eleven, it hadn’t been a skill Sirius needed. Remus had, and hopefully always would, be there to care about every issue, whether the rest of them would have given it a second thought or not. He did it so quietly, so unassumingly, that it could be easily missed that it was even he who did it. One minute Sirius would be grumbling to James about being hungry during class, and the next there would be chocolate in his mouth.
In first year, Sirius had actually, rather stupidly, assumed it was simply the magic of the castle (or, he hated to admit the possibility, but perhaps the house-elves) that was caring for him.
His second day of Hogwarts, he’d received some extremely angry letters from his parents about his sorting and had been feeling very disappointed in himself. He thought he’d done a good job of hiding it, but when he looked through his possessions later that day he discovered that, very mysteriously, every single one of the family crests that his parents were so fond of putting on absolutely everything he owned, had been rather crudely burned off and painted or sewn over with golden lions. He was baffled.
A week later, after fidgeting every single night because of a terribly scratchy blanket, he’d come back to their dorm one afternoon and found it replaced with the coziest quilt he’d ever felt. He slept wonderfully after that, and he never noticed that the boy who slept across from him, who before that had been sleeping under a particularly soft and rather loved quilt his mother had made for him, suddenly started using one of the school issued blankets again.
That first February, the horrible winter season was finally driving Sirius (who much preferred warmer months and sunshine) crazy, and he told his friends as much. If he remembered correctly, his actual words were something like “winter can piss right off” when James asked why he was in such a foul mood. The very next morning there was a vase full of wild flowers next to his bed. Six years later they still hadn’t wilted and were proudly displayed exactly where they’d been left. Sirius loved them all the better after finding out it wasn’t just Hogwarts that was so magical.
It wasn’t until nearly halfway through his second year that Sirius realized it might be shy, lovely, little Remus Lupin that was performing all these miracles. He first started suspecting one lunch time in November, when James, Remus, Peter, and he were discussing their favorite Christmas traditions. Sirius had little to say, as he had few happy holiday memories, but Peter had gone on and on about how wonderful his mother was at cooking and how his father even brewed their own butterbeer every Christmas. James then complained that his parents had never even let him try a sip of butterbeer, even though other children often drank it, and he was dying to know what it tasted like.
Immediately, Remus had yanked his book bag off the floor and started rummaging through it. It took him much longer than should have been necessary for how small the bag appeared (Sirius would later find that the contents of that battered bag were far greater than anyone could have ever imagined), but he had eventually pulled a relatively cold bottle of butterbeer and silently placed it in front of James. James had been delighted, but Sirius, still unused to unnecessary kindness, had questioned Remus about why he’d given away a perfectly good bottle of butterbeer.
Remus had grinned at him and, with a small wink, just said “I like to help people who deserve it.”
Sirius had started watching him after that, to see if he'd been the one doing the fantastic favors. He definitely doubted so at first. Afterall, if anyone deserved the support of Remus Lupin, it certainly wasn’t him. James, definitely, but not him.
Sirius saw Remus absentmindedly hand Peter his own toast he was eating one morning after Peter complained about waking up too late and having to skip breakfast. He noticed again when Remus offered to walk a lost first year to class and consequently showed up fifteen minutes late to their own charms lesson. Small, amazing things were still happening for Sirius, but he had no proof that it was Remus. He felt obnoxiously jealous.
Thankfully, even that problem was quickly solved. The four of them had snuck out one night in January, just for the fun of it really. They were sitting together on the quidditch pitch, watching the stars and eating nicked pies. Due to similar taste, Sirius was sitting beside Remus and sharing a blackberry pie while Peter and James devoured a pumpkin one together.
Sirius, as usual, had forgotten his jacket and eventually couldn’t help shivering a little. The next thing he knew, there was a thin coat around his shoulders and Remus was smiling and muttering something about“warmer blood.” It was the memory Sirius would later use to conjure his patronus.
After that, Remus seemed to become a little less discreet with his acts of kindness, although they were just as marvelous and often surprising as ever. Sirius, in turn, attempted to repay him the only way he knew how: with hugs and loud explosions.
At the Sorting in their third year, when Sirius had been exploding with nerves about his brother and had been practically shaking, Remus had (in a way quite unlike him) grabbed Sirius’ hand and not let go until McGonagall called out Williams, only squeezing tighter when Regulus was sent to Slytherin.
That same year, Sirius had been bored out of his mind in Defense Against the Dark Arts as they learned about werewolves. Having daily access to one, Sirius and the other Marauders knew everything they needed to about them, and the lies in the textbook certainly weren’t teaching them anything. One sentence had somehow caught his attention through his haze, when the professor mentioned that werewolves could tell the difference between regular humans and those of their own kind by smell of blood alone, whether they were transformed or not. Sirius wondered, apparently aloud, whether werewolf blood also tasted different. He could thank his dog-brain for that.
Remus had looked back at him, rolling his eyes. Then, looking around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, he’d rummaged in his fantastical bag, taken out a small knife, and made a tiny slice in his thumb. He held it back to Sirius who, flabbergasted, had (luckily successfully) done a small healing spell and then kissed the poor thumb. Remus laughed, whispering “I guess you’ll never know then.” Sirius was perfectly fine with that.
In fourth year, Sirius’ Defence Against the Dark Arts essays started writing and turning themselves in before he’d even thought of beginning them. On numerous occasions, he had to tell professors that, yes he had truly forgotten he had already written that one.
Fifth year Sirius began finding random skirts in his piles of clothes, often with little notes stuck on them. They read things like ‘You’re lucky I learned how to sew’ or ‘don’t be grateful, my mum just stopped liking this one.’ or 'with love from Hope Lupin'. He wore every skirt and kept every note.
After what he’d done to Remus, Sirius was sure the miraculous deeds would stop in his sixth year. He didn’t deserve Remus. He didn’t deserve anyone. He did what he could to turn the tables, to do everything he could to make it all up to Remus. But Remus didn’t seem to appreciate anything loud, and Sirius certainly wasn’t allowed to touch him at that time, so he was lost.
To his surprise, after he was disowned, a new mystery started. The Black name was savagely crossed out everywhere he’d ever written it. The vandalism even happened to any homework he still put Black on, although he had no idea when it could have been done.
James promised he had nothing to do with it but proclaimed it a genius idea. They both knew who it had to be, and sure enough Sirius caught Remus at it one night. Sirius was half-asleep when he heard soft footsteps approaching his bed. He opened his eyes, just enough to see, and watched as Remus took Sirius’ newest essay from where he’d stuffed it in his bag, angrily scribbled it out with a Muggle pen, and carefully slipped it back into the bag. Unable to help himself, Sirius sat up and whispered “thank you.”
“You deserve it, Padfoot.” Was all Remus said before tiptoeing back to his own bed. Sirius had ordered James to give Remus at least six hugs the next day.
It was their seventh year. All four of them were high as kites, lying on their dormitory floor and discussing whatever popped into their heads. The weed had, of course, been provided by Remus after James started getting sentimental that they were leaving Hogwarts in less than a year.
It was clearly a mistake, because all James was doing now that he was high was rambling on and on and on about how wonderful it had been to finally kiss Lily Evans.
Peter started to contribute a few of his own conquest stories as well, which were rather disgusting if Sirius thought about it enough. Sirius knew he’d told his friends that he’d kissed several girls over the years, but in his current state he couldn’t for the life of him remember who he’d claimed they were. So instead, he was honest. They were leaving soon after all.
“I’d like to know what it’s like to kiss someone.” He murmured. James and Peter immediately started giggling; Remus did not.
“James, we’re out of snacks. Will you please be such a good friend and get us some more? I will if you want, I’m just a bit sore.” Remus pleaded. The moon was in a few days. James, obviously, jumped up immediately. On the rare occasions Remus made a request, it was absolutely granted. “Thanks mate, you’re the greatest. Pete, could you help him? The house elves like you.”
In the end they’d both happily gone, and Sirius had the prospect of snacks to look forward to. Any thoughts he had were completely shoved from his mind however, when Remus grinned at him and sauntered over to Sirius’ patch of floor.
“Stand up Pads, we’re doing this properly.” He’d ordered.
Sirius just stared at him. “What?” Oh how he’d hate his stupidity when he thought of that moment later on.
Remus just grabbed Sirius’ arm and yanked him onto his feet. He stayed so close they were just about touching. “Can I kiss you Sirius?”
Sirius didn’t entirely know what was happening. He didn’t know what to say. But he certainly knew that, yes, he absolutely wanted that. He nodded, and then Remus was even closer. His hands were in Sirius’ hair, and he was pushing their lips together. Sirius pushed back enthusiastically, and then Remus’ tongue was in his mouth. Sirius nearly collapsed.
What felt like months later, Remus pulled away after a few last nips of Sirius’ lips (apparently he had absolutely no qualms about biting in his human form.) He gave SIrius a final gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered, in a way that made Sirius shiver, “now you know what it feels like.”
Sirius was still breathless and blushing when James and Peter returned. He had a lifetime of debt to pay back to Remus Lupin, and he finally had some ideas for how to do it. He definitely needed to get to work as soon as possible.