A Crush on An Auror
Sirius looked over at Remus again and frowned. He couldn't for the life of him understand why he was so pissed off. So what if Remus seemed to have developed a bit of a crush on Professor Dearborn? Big fucking deal. Lots of his classmates had developed crushes on teachers in the past. He and James had fancied Mc Gonagall for all of second Year, just because she was so bloody marvellous and intellectually rigorous, and stern, and called you out all the times you messed up. Sassy, they liked that. And Peter had drooled over Professor Mc Intyre, all fluted sleeved and blonde bombshell, for most of the first three years, unable to take notes during Muggle Studies, the rest of them snorting loudly at the way his voice squeaked an octave higher whenever he went to answer a question.
But this? This was just plain annoying. I mean Remus didn't go around fancying anyone. Never had admitted to it, anyhow. Which was weird, come to think of it. But maybe it was a werewolf thing-a-ma-jig? Anyway, the point was, it had suited Sirius just fine, thank you very much. He liked knowing where he stood where Remus was concerned. At yet, there Remus was, staring at Dearborn, wide eyed and annoying. I mean, he was going to start drooling next, it was utterly embarrassing. He really ought to stop him somehow. He should definitely come up with some sort of Marauders' signal for this type of situation. Something along the lines of "P.P.E. Alert" – Prongs Pursuing Evans Alert. Because frankly, while Lily might be out of James' league, based on his observations to date, fancying a teacher like Dearborn was way, way, up the cringe thermometer!
And the worst part of it? The worst part of it was that Dearborn was the bloody polar opposite of Sirius. All short hair (crew cut, apparently, a muggle soldier look), short beard, taller than him, stocky. Yeah, stocky, it definitely wasn't all muscle, no way. Come off it, he even had fair hair! It was ridiculous. And he was way too serious, boring in fact, something Sirius had only noticed after he became aware of Remus' infatuation. Oh, and by the way, he was an ex-auror.
Shit.
And there was no reason why he should find this so upsetting. None at all.
But he did.
He didn't think Remus would have been the type to have crushes on teachers, male or female. Remus was different.
He was sort of other-worldly. Ethereal, maybe even adorable. Or heavenly.
Not at first glance, obviously. I mean, he was six-foot-two, and his eyes managed to look red about two weeks out of every month. And he could be very grumpy and irritable around that time as well. And he very often sported a stubble, despite shaving every day. And he was exceptionally strong, with sinewy arms and legs. And scars. Lots of them. And he read a lot, did crosswords (which bored Sirius brainless) and wore dodgy clothes most of the time.
Not the usual description of an other-worldly boy.
But maybe it was because he had grown up without friends or comrades, near a wild moor in the middle of Wales, with only his books for company. He never bitched or gossiped about others. He would make dry, sassy retorts, but he would tell you to your face. And most of the time he was just kind and generous. Maybe it was because he sometimes fell asleep during class, looking angelically peaceful. And then woke up looking utterly lost and vulnerable for a few moments. Maybe it was because he was so eloquent when he wanted to explain something. Well, all the time. Sirius couldn't understand half of the complicated adjectives he used, but it made Remus sexy. His beautiful, tired, moss-green eyes blinking at him first thing in the morning in their dormitory. Or maybe it was the fact that he put up with the horrific pain of transforming into a werewolf every full moon with minimal fuss, which James said was heroic. And it was.
Maybe because he was heroic, hormonal (or manly), eloquent, other-worldly and sexy.
Maybe he minded because… because he just did.
"Evans, what do muggle soldiers wear?"
….
"Sirius, what on earth are you wearing?" said Remus, looking at his friend in bewilderment.
"Do you like it? It's called a camouflage look," said Sirius, pleased with himself as he glanced down at his khaki outfit. "Very military-esque, isn't it?"
"Hmm…" replied Remus, unsure what to say, and not wanting to sound negative. "It's good, yeah… it's just not really… not really you, though, is it?"
"What do you mean, Moony?" said Sirius, sounding affronted. "It's extremely me! Man of action, sexy, no nonsense, down to business?"
Remus looked back down at the crossword he had been trying to complete.
"Come on Moony, don't you agree?" Sirius continued, poking him in the ribs.
"Well, the sexy bit, obviously… I mean you are Sirius Black…" replied Remus, with a hint of teasing, keeping his eyes on the crossword.
"Yes, obviously!" flashed Sirius, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. He placed his right leg over his left knee, which he always tended to do when he wanted to look confident. "Well, I'm glad you like it. I've been thinking of changing my image for a while."
"Oh," said Remus, looking up briefly with a dissatisfied look.
"Yeah, someone, er, said this look would suit me. I was thinking of cutting," he gulped at the thought. "Of cutting my hair short… very short, you know?"
"Who the fuck said that?" growled Remus, looking furiously at him.
"Em, just someone?" replied Sirius lamely.
"Are you fucking barking?" said Remus, regarding him as though he had two heads.
"Well, yes sometimes," grinned Sirius, winking at him.
Remus rolled his eyes. He did that a lot when Sirius was spouting nonsense, and it probably wasn't a good sign, thought Sirius, spouting nonsense wasn't exactly very ex-auror-esque…
"Your hair is perfect," said Remus flatly, standing up and shaking his head with annoyance. He paced around the room.
"It suits you, as do your clothes, that eclectic mixture of rock and flamboyant rainbow of polyester tight-fitting trousers and silk shirts that only you could pull off! I mean, are they blind?" he continued, throwing his hands up momentarily, in an uncharacteristic use of gesture.
"Em…" replied Sirius weakly.
"Clearly, they have absolutely no taste! Fucking hell, Sirius, I thought you were more clued in than that!" finished Remus, sitting back down suddenly. His cheeks were slightly red. He pulled the sleeves of his jumper down over his wrists, which was usually a sign of embarrassment, Sirius figured.
"So you don't think the Dear- the muggle soldier look, is a good one?" asked Sirius sheepishly, looking down at his God-awful baggy camoflague pants and equally boring shirt.
"Naw, it's shite," said James, grinning widely, as he walked in with Peter. "You're losing the bad-boy, rebel look, old chap!"
"Girls ready dig that rebel vibe, Pads!" said Peter, regarding Sirius wistfully. The closest he'd ever gotten to pulling off a bad-boy look was when he stood beside Sirius.
"Exactly," said Remus, who had regained his composure quickly. "Can you imagine try to wear your leather jacket with that new look?"
"Right," said Sirius, shivering at the thought. "Bad move. So, no hair cut either?"
"No fucking way," replied Remus passionately.
"That is, in my opinion, Pads," he added, clearing his throat, and shrugging nonchalantly.
"Right. Good. I won't," said Sirius, breaking out into a wide smile.
Remus looked up at him briefly.
Sirius was bloody gorgeous and how dare anyone not see that. He liked looking at Sirius.
He smiled quietly and looked back down at his crossword.
Fin