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-First Year, September-
Remus stood in front of the mirror in the Gryffindor dorms, biting his lip in frustration. The crimson and gold tie hung limp and wrinkled around his neck, looking nothing like the neat knots on the other boys.
He tugged the fabric again, trying to remember the half-hearted instructions his mum had given him barely a week ago. It was no use.
A dark blur passed behind him, then paused. “Need help, Remu?” Sirius Black, all cheekbones and effortless grace, was leaning casually against the bedpost, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.
Remus flushed. “It’s stupid. I just… can’t get it right.”
Sirius stepped forward, reaching for the fabric without waiting for permission. “Let me.”
His hands were surprisingly gentle, his fingers precise. He smoothed the collar, looped the tie, and pulled the knot snug at Remus’s throat. Then he stepped back, inspecting his work.
“There. Now you don’t look like you got dressed in a hurricane.” He winked and sauntered off, leaving Remus warm-faced and staring after him.
-Second Year-
Remus had learned how to tie a tie properly—of course he had. But Sirius still appeared beside him most mornings, plucking the fabric from Remus’s fingers and muttering “You’ll only ruin it,” as he tied it himself. It became habit, neither of them acknowledging the ritual beyond the soft exchange of breath and Sirius’s fingers brushing Remus’s throat.
-Fifth Year-
Remus had tied his own tie one morning, rushing out of bed. Sirius had blinked in surprise, then quietly frowned and walked ahead to breakfast without a word. The next day, Remus left the tie untouched on purpose. Sirius smiled when he saw it, took his usual place in front of him, and tied it as if nothing had changed.
-Seventh Year, March-
Remus stood in front of the long dormitory mirror, straightening his shirt collar. The tie hung from his neck, undone.
Sirius appeared beside him without needing to be asked. He stepped close—closer than usual—and started the knot with quiet fingers. Remus stilled.
But this time, after tugging the knot tight, Sirius didn’t step back.
He left his palm flat against Remus’s chest, right over his heart.
Remus swallowed. “Pads?”
Sirius didn’t answer with words. His fingers curled around the finished tie, and in one smooth, confident tug, he yanked Remus down and kissed him.
It was slow, deep, and terrifying in the most thrilling way. Remus melted into it, hands finding Sirius’s waist, lips parting with a shiver.
When they broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, Sirius let the tie fall from his fingers. “You could’ve asked me out,” he said, voice rough. “You didn’t need to be so bloody subtle.”
Remus laughed softly. “I was waiting for you to yank me by the tie, apparently.”
-After That-
There were days Remus wouldn’t even try to put on his tie. He’d shuffle around the dorm, half-dressed, waiting with faux-innocence until Sirius pounced.
“You’re pathetic,” Sirius would mutter fondly, looping the fabric like muscle memory, tugging Remus into a kiss the moment the knot was finished.
And sometimes—when they were alone—Sirius would leave the tie loose, fingers still wrapped around it as if tethering Remus in place.
And Remus never once minded being caught in Sirius Black’s snare.