Chapter Text
The fire danced between each wooden log. Its bright reflection on the stone walls warmed their cool gray to a bright orange and heated the rest of the lounge to a pleasurable temperature. Remus wondered if he had ever seen the fireplace unlit, assuming he likely had in the spring months of term and had simply forgotten due to the length of winter clouding his mind.
He vaguely registered the loud drops of rain beating down on the windowpane to his left, as his fellow Gryffindor’s shuffled in through the portrait behind him. Each of them was still sopping wet and dripping from the quidditch match that had ended about half an hour prior. Murmuring amongst themselves about the game and its outcome, they trudged inside the common areas and back up to their door rooms for dry clothes and a warm bed.
His own wet socks glistened with the same orange glow from the fire, feet positioned in front of himself in order to stop the cold rain from further seeping in between his toes and wrinkling their skin. His boots, similarly, sat in front of the fire. Which he hoped would dry the soles before tomorrow. He only had one pair, and really, he could do without gangrene on top of his lycanthropy.
A drying charm likely existed to fix such a thing as wet socks and shoes, but Remus barely even considered that before he had plopped down on the floor in front of the couch and had begun to dry them off, the good old-fashioned muggle way.
The chatter echoing behind him grew softer as the majority of students slumped their way up to their dorms, leaving Remus and the occasional passerby or common-room straggler to remain in the space. It was unusually quiet in the Gryffindor house but the quidditch match had left energy and morale rather low, and the rain didn't help to alleviate those dampened spirits (haha.)
In another universe, James would probably be standing right where Remus sat, pointing every which way and shouting commands to coordinate another legendary marauders afterparty. But a loss to Slytherin in a quidditch match was hardly worth celebrating, especially when Sirius had also managed to land himself in the hospital wing in the final quarter of the game.
Remus was careful to ignore the wayward glances sent his way by curious Gryffindor’s who were likely confused as to why he wasn't with the rest of the marauders, huddled around a cot in Madam Pomfrey’s office twiddling their fingers as they waited for Sirius to re-awaken.
If he was being completely frank, Remus was also quite curious to know the answer to that question.
His running explanation was that he spent enough time in the hospital wing in his monthly visits to ever want to go there of his own accord. Laying in a hospital bed was one of his least-favorite activities, next to potions, so it felt true. Really the thought of being anywhere near Madam Pomphrey’s for any reason put a knot in his stomach. A sour look appeared on his face in recollection of the feeling of plastic-y sheets beneath his hands, and the swell of anxiety in preparation for impending bad news. His distaste for the hospital wing was palpable to anyone who mentioned it, but he was sure that the answer was better explained by something else entirely.
James seemed to have the idea in his head that this was an extended form of punishment for Sirius as a result of the incident. However, Remus didn't think this theory held much merit, either.
The fact was he had already forgiven Sirius. He had probably already forgiven him the day it happened, because doing things like that was just the kind of person Sirius Black was. Sirius was mean. He didn't always have the best grasp on love, friendship, trust, or how to express it. And sometimes, Sirius was cruel to the people he cared about just because he knew he could be.
But Sirius Black was also honest. He would tell you if you had done something wrong, and the second it happened, he would know when he himself had done something wrong.
And the truth was if he was sorry for it, he would apologize, and never make the same mistake again. And, if he wasn't sorry at all, he wouldn't say a thing and would continue to be an arse regardless of what anyone thought or told him.
He was a person who made mistakes, terrible ones, and told you he was sorry when he was. That was the kind of person Sirius Black was. And, at the end of the day, Remus was the kind of person who would forgive that, because he had never expected anything more. James saw this event to be a betrayal, but Remus saw it as anything but. How could it have been a betrayal when it was just the kind of thing he had always expected from Sirius? Afterall, Remus probably knew him better than anyone.
And Sirius really, truly, did feel sorry.
But, the question as to why Remus was sitting between the couch and fireplace drying his still wet toes rather than comforting his bed ridden friend was, still, unanswered.
Perhaps it was because he felt no need to worry. Sirius had survived hell and back before, and a little tumble off of his broom paled in comparison to the things he had dealt with daily, in his parents’ house.
Sirius was tough beyond most people's wildest imagination. The average person couldn't bear to withstand the horrors he faced and the terrors he likely still holds in his mind. He held up the weight of the world and took beatings from things that would make another man crumble with a flick.
Remus watched as the logs of the fire fell in on themselves with a crackle, wafts of smoke and sparks pouring up from the center of the collapse. He lay his head back to rest on the seat of the couch, playing with the hem of his sweater.
He moved his gaze to the ceiling, which was flickering with the amber light of the fireplace but had pauses of all-encompassing darkness. He dropped his eyes shut, moving his feet ever so slightly to the left, as the fabric of his sock had started to burn on the right side.
His mind supplied that, hopefully that meant that they were nearly dry.
Remus took a breath inward and sighed. He was certainly not concerned that his friend would be lying still, with hollow breath instead of fluttering his eyes open drowsily, as if he had slept too late on a Sunday. It was certain that Sirius Black would rouse himself into conciseness, before quickly being bombarded with hugs and various other gestures of love from Prongs and Wormtail, both of whom maybe worry too much. Both of them doting and fretting over feeble problems with simple solutions.
Maybe he was guilty, but then, the question was, what for? Remus wasn’t angry with Sirius, nor was he responsible for the stray bludger that knocked Sirius out of the sky. Remus didn’t even play quidditch, he was standing in the stands, not on the field, when he watched his friend fall from the sky and down to the field below.
There was no reason for guilt, anxiety, or the gnawing feeling in Remus’ guts at the image of Sirius on a stretcher, covered in a layer of muddy sand.
It was an undeniable fact that Sirius would be right as rain soon, walking through the portrait hole in order to, no doubt, sulk with James over their joint loss. No chance in hell would Sirius let himself be beaten by Slytherins in quidditch and killed on the same damn day. No goddamn way.
So, Remus reminded himself that he was not worried, and had no reason to be, with another inhale, and another exhale.
He lay there listening to the sound of rain, and muffled noises emanating from dorm-rooms and chattering students left mingling in hallways and corridors until the night’s curfew set in and they would have to return back to their rooms for the night.
Soon enough the bottoms of his feet were burning again, and he sat himself up cross legged, still listening for the telltale sound of three familiar feet making their way to the fat lady.
He glanced at his wristwatch, noting that an hour had passed of him sitting here, still without any message or word from his friends, and a sudden temptation came over him, to send a patronus, or just sprint towards the hospital wing, despite the nausea in his gut at the thought. Nearly as soon as the idea was birthed in his head, he heard three hushed voices approaching just outside the door. Remus allowed himself to relax; he leaned back up against the couch, head laid sideways so as to keep an eye on the portrait hole in anticipation of his impending visitors.
James’ muffled chastising whisper just barely echoed through the thin parchment, clearly assigning some tasks to either an anxious Peter, or a constipated looking Sirius. Of the two, Remus guessed the former as a faint smile made its way onto his face, which was still precariously turned to the side in order to observe the entrance.
The fat lady was quietly and ever so slightly cracked open, revealing a sliver of hallway light, before being swung open in entirety, by the three other marauders, causing it to bang roughly against its hinges in the boy's miraculously failed attempt at stealth.
Remus grinned at the scene before him, as Peter reared back, startled by the bang of the door, falling into the fresh-out-of-hospital Sirius, who was standing in the middle of the portrait hole. Sirius yelped and grabbed hold of the doorframe as James (quite loudly, Remus might add) shushed the ever-clumsy Peter, who was now sat on his toosh, right in front of where Sirius needed to step if he wanted to avoid getting pushed out of the common room and spilling gracelessly into the hallway.
As Sirius’ grasp failed him, James launched himself forward, grabbing the collar of Sirius’ shirt and pushing poor Pete out of the way in the process.
It was at this point that Remus’ expression broke, and he fell out into raucous laughter as all three of his friends froze in place.
The portrait hole shut loudly behind the now-upright Sirius, making them all jump in surprise and increasing Remus’ laughter tenfold, especially as Peter slipped on his hands, falling flat on his face in his attempt to stand himself up.
The stiffened and embarrassed expressions of his friends did nothing to ease his laughter, but he managed to force it down in place of a sentence, “It's an honest to god miracle that Filch hasn't caught you all yet, masters of stealth you are.”
He was still grinning as a beet red Sirius huffed and pointed a finger towards him, “We thought you would be asleep, you conniving twat!”, Sirius said in an enraged stage whisper, inching towards him and causing James to drop the fistful of shirt still clasped in his hand. “The common sure looked fucking empty with you all hidden behind the pillows an’ shit”, Sirius howled.
“Ahem-” a cough from James signaled an end to Sirius’ rampage, and the brunette took a step forward to match level with his brother, “I’ll have you know that when I’m not buggering around with these morons” James cast a harsh look in either direction, making Peter look ready to cry, while Sirius paled at the betrayal, “I actually am the master of stealth”.
To the dismay of Prongs, Remus wasn’t done, “Please, you were probably the loudest one!”, he snickered.
“I'll have you know, Filch has NEVER seen me. Not once!”
Peter frowned, “Mate…you have an invisibility cloak.” James’s face fell, “If he managed to see you even with that, then that would make for a down-right impressive fuck-up.”
Sirius had joined in Remus’ maniacal grinning. After all, ganging up on James was one of his favorite hobbies, “You practically blew the fat lady off her hinges, Prongs, I don’t think it’s even reasonably fair to call you a master of stealth after that”
James looked fit to explode as he sucked in a breath of air and raised his finger for a retort, but it was promptly shut down after Remus beat him to the point, “Not to mention we also have the map” Remus smugly pointed out, “You have every possible key to success, and yet you still can’t walk into the common room without making a ruckus!” James stilled, and the grins of the three other boys intensified at the jab to his pride. James looked just about deflated.
Remus, Sirius, and Peter all began to laugh wickedly at the merciless teasing. This left Remus positively gasping for air, and he sank further against the foot of the couch, turning himself back to face the fireplace. Lifting his head upside down in order to keep tabs on his mates as they settled from their laughter, he watched as James joined in on the giggling, breaking out into a considerably sized smile amongst the fit of cackling.
A beat of silence followed the dying-out laughter, allowing time for an awkward tension to pass through as James, Peter, and a noticeably discomforted Sirius shared a look which had a meaning Remus was not privy to.
James cleared his throat again, this time being considerably more awkward than the last. He clapped his hands together before continuing, “Well…that was a big quidditch game, yes, very tired” He glanced at Peter in his best attempt at subtlety, before beginning to back up towards the door, “best be off to bed so.. goodnight lads”.
He sprinted up the steps, disappearing around the corner, before peeking his head back out and grunting at Peter once again. After this failed attempt, he gave up on the idea of leaving in a smooth manner entirely, deferring to whisper-shouting, “Wormy!” in Pete’s general direction. Peter, who, in finally taking the hint, sat up and scampered up the stairs to follow, leaving an incredibly appalled Sirius and a bewildered Remus to make eye contact over the back of the couch.
Sighing, Sirius walks to the side of the couch, draping himself dramatically onto the cushions and staring at the fire. The golden glow on his relaxed face made Remus’ stomach twist as he examined each and every detail on his skin. He noticed a small scrape on Sirius’ forehead, one which probably didn't warrant mending from Pomfrey, but made Remus’s insides curdle non the less.
Remus sighed, melting his head into the couch as he turned to face the gleaming fire which Sirius was in the midst of observing.
“Prongs said he thought you wouldn't come to the med-wing because of what I did and said I should apologize to you again…” Remus couldn't see him, but he could feel the shrug Sirius gave through the couch cushions.
“Don’t.” Remus shuddered out, “I…don't need you to apologize again. I already forgave you”. Remus’ gaze shifted down to his hands, but he still felt Sirius' eyes searing into his profile, burning hotter than the fire in front of them.
“I-I know”, Sirius responds. Equal amounts of relief and frustration poured out of Remus for the fact that Sirius knew him so well. He was incessantly glad that he wouldn’t have to try and convince Sirius that he already forgave him, but the knowledge that Sirius knew an apology was unnecessary the whole-time infuriated Remus beyond reason.
In spite of the distaste Remus was positive showed on his face, Sirius pushed forward, “I-I promised Prongs I would talk to you about it so…” in Remus’ peripheral, he saw a hesitant smile appear on the boy’s face, "I guess that was his attempt at being smooth”.
The use of humor deflated some of the anger in Remus’ mind, and tension in the room began to dissipate as he huffed out a laugh, “James is about as subtle as he is sneaky, then,” Remus continued, a small smirk gracing his lips.
A real smile replaced the nervous expression on Sirius’ face, “Have to give Petey some of the credit, though. I don't think he even knows how to spell the word subtlety”.
“Well, he certainly doesn't know its definition” Remus quipped, giddy as he turned his head to look at Sirius. They were both grinning now, as Sirius flipped his feet over the back of the couch, resting his weight on his back and shoulders as his head fell off of the couch. They were smiling proudly, face to face as they marveled in their own comedic genius.
“Tell you what, Moony. I’ll tell him how to spell it, and you give him a dictionary. That way, he can find out” Sirius positively glowed, both in the light of the fire and at his own genius suggestion, “It’ll be a joint gift, for his...birthday or something”
“His birthday was four months ago, Pads, I think we’ve long since passed that marker“. Sirius furrowed his brow, eyes crinkling in almost sincere looking contemplation.
“Christmas then?“ he asked, eyes wide but a suppressed smile breaking out underneath the cracks in his façade.
“It's March, you dunce!” Remus squawked, pushing Sirius' head away from his own as they devolved into fits of laughter.
In between chuckles, Sirius adjusted his position on the couch, nearly resting his upside down head on Remus's shoulder, who found himself staring at the fireplace again.
The sudden realization that his socks were dry hit him as he smiled into the warm glow of the flames. He felt eyes on him again but the quiet of rain and the crackling fire made everything about the silent scene comfortable. Remus flicked his eyes shut ever so slightly more often as the minutes passed on and the exhaustion from the day sunk further into his bones.
“Maybe… an anniversary present“ Remus sucked in a breath of air and turned to the side once again.
“What?”
“The gift for Peter“ Sirius blinked, “it could be… an anniversary present.“
“An anniversary of what?” Remus balked.
“Anything, something, nothing.” Sirius shrugged again, ever so slightly shifting Remus' couch cushion up and down in sync with Sirius’ bouncing shoulder.
It occurred to Remus that the two of them were very close, facing each other with mere centimeters separating their noses. So much so that if Remus simply leaned, the gap held between them would close in an instant.
“We could always just make something up.” Sirius added matter-of-factly as if his eyes weren't darting up and down Remus' profile, dissecting every detail on his face in their proximity. His words slowed at the end of the sentence, as if the weight of the day had just finally settled into his vocal cords, but his eyes told Remus something different than that.
“We can celebrate anything we want to”, his voice was a whisper now, low and soft, but loud enough to be heard over the background of rain and the dying fireplace with warm embers and small flames which barely kept the remaining warmth to the room. But Remus still felt like it was stifling. Remus had always wondered if he could blush from just being flustered. He supposed that this would just be another thing Sirius knew, and that Remus never would.
Sirius’s eyes flicked down, resting for a quarter of a second on Remus’s parted mouth, before darting back to look him in the eyes. Remus paid careful attention to every movement, as the two of them slowly seemed to drift closer, noses nearly touching and hot breath tickling one another’s face. There was no doubt, or question in Remus’s mind about what would happen next, as it had always seemed like the most natural thing he and Sirius could do. They loved each other, after all.
So, with nothing but air between their lips, Remus closed his eyes, and waited for Sirius to seal that truth with a kiss.
A delicate hand found is way to the back of Remus’s neck, fingers leaving small parts in his hair, as he felt himself leaning forward, heat against his face as their foreheads knocked together-
-and he was suddenly being pushed toward the ground as Sirius propped himself up using his hold on Remus’s collar. Yawning in an exaggerative fashion, that could’ve been funny in any other situation, but fell on an unresponsive audience.
“Well Moons, best be off to bed now, Pomfrey's orders, you know”, Sirius shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled his way off the couch towards the stairs, as Remus stared blankly at his retreating form.
The fire felt colder, now that he was not sharing its light with another warm body, and with a wayward glance at his shoes, he decided they would be fine spending the night in the common room.
When the soles were still damp the next morning, Remus didn’t have it in him to feel disappointed.