Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter.
A/N: For JacksonFrost. Happy belated birthday! I hope you enjoy (:
There's a moment for each school year. I, First. II, Second. III, Third. Etc. Etc. In case I don't make that obvious enough in the fic. Which I don't think I do.
I.
You've always been cut off from society, held within the safety of your own home. "For your own protection", your father always insisted, though you knew it was for the other kids, not you. And now you're here, at Hogwarts, surrounded by children and teenagers, laughing and having fun. It's all surreal to you, but it's amazing and you love it so much.
Your friends are amazing, too. Imagine that – you have friends. You've never had friends before, and you're kind of glad about that, because it makes these friends all the more special. James is witty and charming, easily the most confident person you know. Peter is hilariously amusing, always ready to send a smile your way. Sirius is the funniest, with a wild imagination and a rather troublesome bravery that no one could live up to.
And as you're sitting in a circle on the floor of the dorm room, late at night, planning a prank that'd blow everyone off their feet, you look around at your friends, thinking nothing but I can't believe I got so lucky. James is grinning, talking rapidly about his new plans. Peter's leaning in, eyes gleaming at this idea. And then James says something, and everyone laughs. Sirius, you notice, laughs the loudest.
You love his laugh.
II.
The second year of school is beginning in just a couple of weeks, and Diagon Alley is just as beautifully busy as last year. Your mother insists that you hold her hand as she pulls you along from shop to shop, buying everything you need in record time, and you want to tell her to slow down but you know she won't listen, so you stay quiet, allowing her to tug on your hand as she pushes her way through the crowd.
You reach Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and she lets go of your hand, telling you wait outside and stay where she can see you while she gets your potions ingredients. She's never trusted you with potion ingredients or chemicals, and you're not sure why, but you don't question it, nodding your head and standing by the window, looking inside.
A few minutes pass and you're absorbed in your thoughts when you feel a hand brush against your wrist. You turn quickly as a familiar voice says "Ice-cream?" Sirius is standing in front of you, a huge smile on his face, somehow holding two ice-cream cones in one hand.
"Sirius!" you exclaim, throwing yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck and, laughing, he hugs back, careful not to get any ice-cream on you. You hold him tight, overjoyed to be seeing one of your best friends again. He hugs back with just as much happiness, and your heart warms.
You love his hugs.
III.
Third year is so difficult compared to the last two years. The professors are so much harder on you, loading you with more and more homework each day. It doesn't help that you're taking more classes than the average student, but even Peter's getting too much homework to handle, and he's taking less than average.
So, like every evening for the past several weeks, you sit in the library, crowded by books. Your stomach growls, but you know you have to skip dinner to study some more. Your eyes are drooping, but you know you can't go to sleep yet. Your brain is sluggish, working so much slower than usual, but you push on, determined.
As you start reading the page you're on for the third time, your eyes slowly droop close, and they're just too heavy to lift again. You sit like that for a while, just wishing you could go to sleep, but you force your lids up when you hear a heavy thud nearby.
Sirius sits opposite you, lively and grinning. "Hello!"
You grunt.
"What are you doing?"
You grunt again.
"You should stop pushing yourself."
Yet again, you grunt, too exhausted to move your jaw and form a proper response. Sirius narrows his eyes at you, and then smirks, leaning closer.
"Want to know a secret?" Grunt. He leans closer, eyes gleaming. "I like you."
You consider rolling your eyes, but you settle for another grunt, too tired to take him seriously. As you expect, Sirius groans and sits back. "Is there nothing I can say to make you talk?" Grunt. "Right. Well, I guess you won't mind if I just ..." He trails off, standing up and scooping some of your books into his arms, starting to walk away.
"Don't. You. Dare," you say quietly, narrowing your eyes. Sirius turns, grinning. "Put the books down, Black, and walk away."
"I'm only walking away if you're beside me, Remus," he says, sliding the books back onto the table. You groan and rub your eyes. "Seriously, mate, you're overworking yourself."
"I have to, Sirius! I have so much homework to do and not enough time to do it and it's driving me crazy!"
"Get some sleep, you idiot!"
"I can't!"
But eventually, you give in, and together, you put the books back into their original place. As you walk back to the common room, Sirius talks almost non-stop, making you laugh often and smile even more. By the time you reach the dorm, you're practically a zombie, and Sirius laughs as you change with your eyes almost closed.
You get under the covers, and you just notice Sirius shoot a lopsided grin at you before you lay down, and you lazily smile back, snuggling down. You fall asleep almost instantly, with Sirius's grin in mind.
You love his grin.
IV.
The first time you dream of him, you wake up shocked, but oddly content. It wasn't erotic, but it was enough to keep the fantasies running wild for weeks. In the dream, the two of you leave the Great Hall early and get lost on the way back to the common room. It's silly, really, because by now – Fourth Year – you've discovered most short-cuts and passageways, and you know the school like the back of your hand.
But when have dreams ever made sense?
You run around for ages, and all you find is corridors you've never seen before and rude paintings that don't appreciate the racket you're making (although, really, you weren't making that much noise anyway). Eventually, Sirius gives up, resting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily, collapsing against the wall. You follow suit, sliding down the stone until you're both sitting on the floor.
You lean against each other as you catch your breath, and you discuss what you're going to do.
"Just sleep here," he suggests, as if it's completely normal to sleep in the middle of a corridor (which, in dream world, it probably is). And you find yourself agreeing, saying it's the best option.
You talk for hours, and soon, your conversation turns into one about relationships. Sirius has been dating since Second Year, as has James, but you haven't, and you find yourself looking at your feet as you talk.
"Why don't you get a girlfriend?"
"No one could like me in that way. I'm not like you, Sirius – you and James are so popular and confident and I'm … not. No one could ever love me."
"You don't think anyone could feel that way about you?"
"No, I don't." And you're speaking the truth, and even when you wake up, you still feel that way. But dream-Sirius disagrees.
"You're a great person, Remus. It's easy to love you."
"Yeah, right. I bet the thought of kissing me would be enough to turn anyone asexual."
"Oh, really?"
And then Sirius is kissing you, and you're kissing back, and it feels so good that neither of you want to stop. But then you wake up, and you roll around in bed for as long as possible, continuing the dream just to see where it goes. Throughout the day, you often close your eyes and create the rest of the dream, curiosity getting the best of you.
You've never thought of Sirius in that way before, but the dream is so amazing, you can't find it in yourself to feel guilty or ashamed. It feels right.
You love this new perspective.
V.
This time, the kiss between the two of you isn't a dream, but it's just as amazing. Alcohol-induced, definitely, but it's real, and it's wonderful. It starts in an oddly familiar fashion, with talk of relationships, but as his lips press against yours, you can't even remember what led him to do such a thing.
You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his own around your waist, pulling you closer. Your bodies mould together as you continue to kiss, and when his mouth starts to wander, you don't stop him. He plants kisses down your neck and you tilt your head back, against the wall of the bathroom.
"Moony," he murmurs.
"Padfoot," you respond in a moan.
And that's all he needs to hear for him to attach his lips onto yours again, hands snaking up to loosen your tie and undo your buttons. He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and you shrug out of it before moving your hands down to do the same to him. Shirtless, your hands search each other's chests. He runs his thumbs over each and every scar he finds, and all the while, your lips rarely leave his.
You love his kisses.
VI.
You enter your sixth year in just a matter of weeks and you're enjoying the rest of the summer at the Potter residence. Sirius has been quieter than usual, and it's understandable because he's just been kicked out of his house, officially disowned. Despite his lack of respect for the family, it's bound to leave him shaken.
One morning, the post arrives, and with it, a red envelope addressed to Sirius. With shaking hands, he takes it and looks at everyone. You do, too. Mr and Mrs Potter are staring at the envelope with wide eyes, Mrs Potter covering her mouth with her hands. James, too, is eyeing it warily, a piece of bacon hanging from his open mouth. And you – you're scared for your friend, biting your lip as he tears the envelope open.
The high-pitched, scratchy voice of Walburga Black screams from the envelope, and everyone flinches. You watch Sirius carefully as his mother yells about how he's such a disgrace, about how she's been ashamed to call him her son for the past six years, and how she's so glad she's seen the back of him. Shaking from head to toe, Sirius runs from the room before Mrs Black even finishes, and while everyone stares after him, you're the only one who takes action, following him in a sprint.
You find him in James's bedroom where the three of you had been sleeping the past week, tears streaking down his cheeks as he hugs his knees to his chest. You sit down and pull him into a hug, murmuring comforting words and rubbing his back. Tears well up in your eyes, too, because you hate seeing your best friend upset, and as you bury your face in his shoulder, those tears spill over.
"Don't cry over me," you hear him murmur, and you let out a small sob, holding onto him tighter.
You cry into each other's shoulders, and you don't even notice when Mrs Potter comes to check on you. You don't see her worried frown, and you don't see her leave as quietly as she'd entered.
"I'm sorry," Sirius says through his tears.
"Don't be," you whisper thickly.
As sad as it makes you, you love his innocence.
VII.
Seventh Year is over and you're packing, thoroughly downhearted. The thought of never coming back to Hogwarts is enough to make you want to cry, but you knew all along that this day would come, that one day, you'd have to leave the safety of Hogwarts' walls and face the real world. That time was now, and you want more than anything to be able to stay.
Sirius runs into the dorm room, his eyes wide. He walks over to James, puts his hands on his shoulders, and pulls James towards him.
"Whoa, Padfoot-"
"Prongs. Mate. We're never coming back," he says with a hint of hysteria in his voice. "As in, never. In six weeks, we won't be boarding the train again. This is it."
"Did it take you this long to work it out?" James replies, smirking.
"I'm not stupid, Prongs. Of course I knew before. It just … it's only just sunk in." He walks over to his bed and puts a hand on one of the posts. "I'm never going to sleep in this bed again." He crosses the room to the bathroom, opening it and looking in. "I'm never going to use this bathroom again." He turns and looks at all of you. "I'm never going to eat in the Great Hall again, or run about the castle as a dog, or join Hagrid for rock cakes that we never eat. I'm never going to flirt with McGonagall again, or call her silly names. I'm never going to tease Alice again, or joke with Frank. I don't want to leave!"
You smile and walk over to him, putting a hand on his arm. "A wise man once said 'Goodbyes aren't forever'."
"Who?"
"I don't remember, but that's beside the point. I'm trying to be meaningful here, so take it or leave it," you say, still smiling.
Sirius laughs, looking at the floor. "I just can't believe this is it," he sighs.
"I know, mate, I can't, either."
Sirius looks at you, his eyes wide. "Promise me something."
"Okay."
"Get a place with me. James and Lily are getting their own house, and I don't want to live with his parents forever. And I won't be able to live for myself – it'd be hopeless to even try. Please?"
"'Kay, I promise."
"Thanks, mate, you're the best." And as he pulls you into a hug, that's when you realise and accept something you've been avoiding for seven long years.
You love him.
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