Disclaimer: I wish Harry Potter were mine (or more precisely I wish the millions were mine…)
Chapters: 5
Warnings: PG-13 rated slash, although that was kind of obvious from the summary and a bit of language.
If I were asked when it all began, I would say in the first Potions lesson of my sixth year at Hogwarts. Even now, eighteen months on, I can still remember the lesson as if it were only yesterday. I can remember how the only light in the dungeon classroom came from the flaming torches set in brackets along the walls and how this dull orange light formed monster-shaped shadows on the walls. The classroom was thick with a noxious pink-tinged smoke that made me feel strangely light-headed.
I had just added cubed dragon's liver to the potion that Peter and I were working on when Sirius appeared through the veil of pink smoke surrounding me, sidled up close, and begged to borrow some of our potion. I didn't answer him immediately because I was too busy staring.
In retrospect, I think I must have inhaled too much of the pink smoke, for in one marvellous moment I had realised something: Sirius was beautiful. Or gorgeous. Or beautiful and gorgeous, for that matter. It was the difference between knowing and seeing. I had always known that Sirius was attractive- he was tall, tanned, lean but muscular and he had gentle grey eyes and shoulder length black hair that always seemed to shine. So yes, I had always known he was attractive. But back in that potions class I saw that Sirius was truly beautiful.
A few seconds later the potion exploded covering Sirius in pink slime but somehow, to me, he still looked stunning.
Of course, my revelation didn't lead to anything happening between us. I continued to be Sirius' friend, a loyal Marauder, bookwork and any number of other things. Sirius continued with his plan to date every attractive girl in the school from fourth years upwards in his quest to find the perfect girlfriend.
It was some time in November that I made the mistake of asking just how many girls Sirius intended to date.
"I made a list." Sirius answered, producing a crumpled piece of parchment from inside his robes. "Here, look," he said, handing it to me.
Carol-Anne Burgess
Natalie Something
Blonde haired Rachel
"There are an awful lot of girls here…"
"Sixty–three," said Sirius dismissively. "I've put them in order of preference but I only have to date down the list until I find a suitable girlfriend."
I noticed that not a single name on the list came close to referring to a mousy-brown haired werewolf with 'freakishly pale' eyes (as James so kindly described them).
##
However, if I were asked to tell the story of the dead grandfather, the wedding ring, the crate of wine and the French castle (which I fully intend to) I would begin with the night before the last day of out sixth year at Hogwarts.
It was seven O'clock, which meant that just about everybody was down in the Great Hall eating dinner- everybody except Sirius and myself. I was trying desperately to finish a charms essay that I had been given an extension on because of the recent full moon. A glance at the clock on the Common Room wall revealed that I had just twenty-seven minutes to finish it.
I would love to say that I was scribbling frantically on the parchment but it would be a complete lie. In actual fact, I couldn't concentrate for long enough to write more than a single sentence at a time because Sirius had his leg pressed against mine under the table. To make matters worse, Sirius kept shuffling around slightly and every time he moved I felt this ridiculous butterfly sensation in my stomach. Added to his leg movements, was the really strong cologne that he was wearing and that my heightened sense of smell found to be very distracting.
"Have you not got anywhere else to be?" I asked him.
He laughed and moved even closer to me. "Somewhere else to be," he mused. "Somewhere better than here? What could be better than watching you fail to write a Charms essay?"
And I laughed too because even when Sirius was being an annoying prat (most of the time, as it happened) I still loved him.
But at this point I only had twenty-five minutes left to complete the essay. "Seriously, get lost, okay?" I said sternly.
He laughed again. "I could crack the serious-Sirius joke right now… but I won't because I don't have time."
'Illusion charms are subject to strict legislation under the Ministry of Magic Act of 1867.' I wrote, managing, just about, to ignore the beautiful ridiculous boy who was far too close to me.
"Aren't you going to ask me where I'm going?" asked Sirius.
"Don't care," I said, which was not strictly true. "Don't want to know."
"I have a date with Sarah Hart," he said, waiting for me to be impressed. "Girl number fifty five!"
"Fifty-five! She's nearly at the bottom of your list; you're really scraping the barrel now, Padfoot."
"Not true," said Sirius. "She was number fifty five because her hair used to be too short (and you know I dislike short hair) but she's let it grow this year and now it's quite long!"
"You don't say."
"I do!" said Sirius happily; he never did understand sarcasm.
"So who the hell is Sarah Hart?" I asked eventually. "I don't recognise the name."
Sirius sighed. "You must know, Sarah Hart. She works with James in Astronomy- lucky bugger."
I abruptly realised who Sirius was taking about. "Oh yes, in Hufflepuff?"
"Yeah."
"I think you mean Sharon Hart."
Sirius looked crestfallen. "Shit. I got my future wife's name wrong."
##
It was half-past midnight before Sirius appeared in our dormitory looking thoroughly ravishing (to the extent that not pouncing on the poor boy was something of an effort).James and Peter were both asleep.
"How did the date go?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"Bloody terrible," he said. "I kept calling her Sharon."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Her name was Sheila," he said glumly.
"Well, at least Sharon is closer to Sheila than Sarah" I said in a comforting tone because I never could bear to see Sirius upset.
But Sirius refused to be comforted. "And when I asked her out again, she said I was too immature! Immature! Me! I'm eighteen in three months!"
At this point I could have reminded Sirius that maturity does not come with years but I chose not to. I could also have reminded Sirius that he had strung all of James' underwear from the Astronomy Tower just last week and that just isn't the sort of thing mature people do. Once again, I chose not to.
Meanwhile, Sirius had sat down on my bed and was looking dejected. "I'm going to be all alone forever. I can't even get a girlfriend," he said with uncharacteristic self-pity.
Even I had to admit that Sirius' failure to get a girlfriend was quite an achievement, considering in the last year he had dated fifty-five different girls.
"James has a girlfriend. Christ Almighty, Moony, even Peter has a girlfriend," moaned Sirius, looking at me with big, puppy-dog eyes.
And naturally I have to be forgiven if I used Sirius' heartache as an excuse to put my arms round him and hug him to my chest. Okay, so I might just have kissed his head as well but I still think that I showed remarkable self-restraint.
"You shouldn't complain, Padfoot," I told him gently. "At least you're not a werewolf! Who on earth is ever going to go out with a werewolf?"
Sirius abruptly shook my arms from round him. "You're talking bullshit Remus, you know? Bullshit. You're going to be happily married before I've even kept a girlfriend for a week. I'm going to bed."
That night I lay in bed wondering if it wasn't about time that I told my friends that I was gay (because how on earth could I be in love with Sirius and not be). I knew James would need a little time to get used to the idea and Peter a couple of weeks more but I had no idea how Sirius would react. He was always so unpredictable. In our third year, James had spent days fretting over the fact that he had accidentally turned Sirius' favourite blue sweater red, only to find out that Sirius rather liked the colour red and would probably have dyed it himself if he'd known how to.
And that night, as I lay thinking about Sirius, I had no idea that my grandfather, Jean-Pierre Lupin was propped up in bed, choking out his dying confession to a priest.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned…"