Where the fireflies won't go

1

He's eleven years old and mapping out the part of the castle closest near to the astronomy tower with Sirius Black – it's not awkward, because it's hasn't been a full moon recently and the next one is far enough away for there to be no unpleasant personality changes showing.

Sirius's hair is constantly falling into his face and he's holding his wand between his teeth whilst scribbling onto a piece of parchment. They're crouched between the solid brick wall and a big troll statue, and it's dead of winter but Remus isn't cold. The sound of Sirius's feather against yellow parchment is the only sound in the empty hallways – Remus points to one of the sidewalls that's been drawn unusually poorly and crookedly and then turns back to peer between the legs of the troll. He's on look-out and he takes his appointed job very seriously.

"Remmi," it's all Sirius says, but it's also all he needs to say because they don't really need words at this stage in their relationship – it's been one year of hiding in dark hallways and evading Filch and weird hand movements Sirius swears is actual sign-language and by now Remus can basically hear Sirius's thoughts as loud and clear as his own.

He brings back his wand to give the raven more light, and there's a thank you somewhere stuck in Sirius's throat. It takes another five minutes for Sirius to finish mapping the fake wall and hidden tunnel they had just explored, and then the other boy flopped down onto his arse rather ungracefully, whopping in barely-concealed excitement.

Sirius has turned thirteen just the month before and actually Remus has not spent any alone time with him since mere hours before his party, where they had spent two hours together running off into the Forbidden forest – the stars had been really bright and Remus had laughed as Sirius howled at canis majoris which they had just been mapping in class the day before.

Now, Sirius is beaming as he hands over the parchment, ready to have his handiwork double-checked by his friend. There's a shadow in his eyes and Remus thinks it's just the lights playing tricks on him, but then he never really knows with Sirius – and he expects that it's half not-knowing that makes Sirius such a great companion.

That and he makes really stupid jokes which are ridiculously funny.

Remus folds the parchment over his knees and draws his wand over it – Sirius's lines are, much like he himself, a little sloppy and his handwriting is near illegible, but Remus had become somewhat of a professional at deciphering it.

He sets to double-checking the positions of the walls as Sirius summons a small fire with his own wand, warming his hands to it. In the orange light of the summoned embers Sirius's cheeks and nose are pink against his amber skin, and Remus realises with a start that the boy was colder than he had thought.

"I really like astronomy," Sirius says quietly – but only because it's the middle of the night and they're out after curfew and he knows Remus will give him a stern talking-to if his chatter gets them caught.

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes because he's probably heard the entire array of Sirius-star related jokes multiple times but then again just even the idea that Sirius would seriously repeat the same lame jokes to his friends itself is kind of endearing.

"Yeah, because of the Sirius star, I know," he says it in a slightly exasperated tone as if he is sick of hearing the story – which in all honesty, he's not, really.

Sirius is undisturbed – he's tracing a crack in the wall with his fingers, and Remus notes that his nails are dirty with black ink.

"What about you?" Sirius hums, and he pokes very decisively at a dip in the stone, "did you notice an increase in your interest in all things moon-related since becoming a werewolf?"

Remus doesn't really hear him at first because he is getting fussy over the absolutely awful job he is doing at calculating the distance between the very statue they are huddled up behind and the wall they are facing – Sirius has gone all artistic on him and has drawn a very accurate eagle-eye view of the troll but the problem is that there is no space between said troll and the wall for two teenagers to hide yet here they are so that couldn't be right.

The scratching of the quill is the only sound in the hallway for a moment and then it stops rather abruptly when Remus processes the fact that Sirius knows.

He is suddenly very aware of all the blood running through his veins and for a moment it's all he can hear, an odd sort of rushing sound very loud in his head, and he worries that maybe he's having a panic attack – the raven next to him however is the poster boy for relaxation and he's pursing his lips and blowing at the little fire he's created, watching the flames flicker.

Then Remus feels mostly just annoyed, because Sirius would find out about this really deep dark crippling secret people have been carrying with them almost all their life and then he would bring it up like it was nothing more than some light chatter, really, he would and that was more maddening than the whole entire ordeal in itself was.

Two can play that game, Remus decides, and then makes a show out of sighing exasperatedly and scratching out something on the parchment. He says, voice warm like the fire Sirius is playing with, "well I did become really good at drawing moon charts," he uses his forearm to wipe the hair from his face as both hands are occupied, and then adds as an afterthought, "anyway I was five so I guess I was gonna get better at that no matter what."

Sirius drums his fingers against the wall. Remus is looking at his knees and he doesn't want to look up, because sometimes when Sirius is unguarded and free his eyes are like moonlit nights' oceans and it's dangerous because Remus has never really been a good swimmer.

"Oh," Sirius nods in understanding – he shifts around, pulls up his legs to his chest, and then, quietly, "I'd say I'm sorry but… you know."

"You're not," Remus doesn't need him to say it out loud because he already knows. He finally relents under the pressure and drops his hands down the side of his body, leaning his chin on his knees. He glances at Sirius from the corner of his eyes, just because he can, and notes that he's gone back to poking at the unmoveable brick wall as if it is key lime Jell-O – honestly, "I guess that if I really have to share this most furriest of secrets with anyone, I'm cool with it being you," which isn't a total lie, "Not too cool, because you know, Peter is really good at keeping his mouth shut, but I guess it's better than James."

The raven looks rather affronted at that, huffing, insulted – but then, he crinkles his nose and concedes, "fair enough," and next, "but, you know…" and then he turns towards his younger friend and draws his fingers over his mouth and pretends to lock his lips together at the end – making a clicking noise with his tongue because if Sirius's mouth was an actual door that could be locked it would be old and rusty and making weird noises from never having been locked before – the sounds echoes eerily in the silent hallway.

Just like that everything has been said – or hasn't been said – and Sirius bumps his shoulder into his side to hurry him along. A couple of minutes later Remus rolls up the scroll of parchment and puts the quill and ink away in his robe – Sirius's cheeks are still red.

On their way back to the tower Sirius slings his arm around Remus' shoulder and puts his nose against his cheek as he tells a really ridiculous joke in hushed whispers and it's kind of cold where Sirius is touching him, but very warm too.