AN: Little Marauders ficlet/drabble thingy. Remus reflects on life in general. Fourth or fifth year I suppose, not meant to be slash but could be taken either way. Enjoy!
Patterns
Remus always liked patterns. Logic. They made sense to him. You could say this was part of why he had few friends, but that wasn't really true. People made up patterns too, in their mannerisms, and the ways they acted. Himself, for instance; he did his homework, studied, and mildly disapproved of his friends' schemes on a regular basis, and every full moon he turned into a werewolf. Peter always snuck out of the dorm to go to the kitchens at midnight, when he thought everyone was asleep. James asked Lily out every day, some days twice. Lily always said no. Not in the details, mind you, but the essence was the same. Gryffindors hated Slytherins, and vice versa. Everything in life worked in patterns.
There was one exception to this 'everything' though. This exception was a certain Sirius Black. If there was any rhyme or reason to his close friend's ways, Remus had yet to find it. The only pattern Sirius seemed to follow was the act of not following any pattern. It was unusual, and to Remus, slightly unnerving. He shrugged and turned his focus back to his half-finished essay. If anyone wanted to explain the madness was Sirius Black, they were welcome to it. Despite the fact Sirius made life far more interesting, Remus was glad there was only one of him; he didn't think either his sanity or the universe could take it otherwise.
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