Brushstrokes

Disclaimer: Everything you might recognize from the Harry Potter world belongs to JKR and her team

The common room was empty on that cold winter night of 4th year, as it was nearly midnight. The scratching of Remus' quill on parchment and the crackling logs in the fireplace were the only sounds filling the room. Behind the frosted windows, the wind howled and raged, swirling between the towers and turrets of Hogwarts. Sirius sat on one side of the big red couch in front of the fireplace, claimed as "Marauders couch", a safe distance away from his friend, whose attention was captured by his History of Magic essay. He presumed he ought to be doing his homework too, but he just couldn't get that look of pure hatred his mother had graced him with right before the train left. Sirius hated the woman, that was a fact. How could you not hate the person who gave you life and was supposed to shower you with love, kindness, and support, yet expect you to be perfect constantly, who tortured you and screamed at you for the smallest of things? She was no mother to him, yet he still longed for that motherly love. He saw the way James' eyes glittered with happiness every time he spoke about his parents; his whole face would lit up like a firework, shining with love and joy. And Sirius wanted the very same thing. Sighing heavily, he leaned back on the couch, running his hands nervously through his long black hair.

Remus looked up from his essay:

"What's the matter, Pads?"

"Nothing."

The other boy raised a disbelieving eyebrow, clearly not ready to let go so easily.

"Really? Doesn't seem like it…if everything were alright, you would have already been pestering me for nearly an hour about some stupid prank idea instead of just sitting there, watching the fire."

"I'm fine, Moony. Seriously. Nothing's wrong."

Remus knew that when Sirius got all quiet and broody, there was something seriously bothering him. Even more so, he knew from personal experience that bottling all of one's feelings just worsened things. Therefore, he did not relent.

"Sirius," he said sternly, facing him and locking eyes. "Something is wrong. Tell me, you know you don't have to lie to me. I'm not James but…I can help. I want to help."

"I said I was fine, Remus," snapped the black-haired boy, ruffling his hair again.

No, he wasn't fine. He was most definitely not fine, but it wasn't like he could just tell one of his best mates he was gay and had developed a raging crush on him ever since he saw him at platform nine and three-quarters, tanned, face dusted with freckles, golden curls lighter than usual.

With a slightly disappointed groan, Remus got up, leaving his unfinished essay behind. Fumbling briefly in his bag, he took out two sketch pads and a box of pencils, and sat back down, ignoring him completely. Sirius watched, intrigued, as Moony flicked through the drawing-covered pages rapidly, finding a blank one, and darkening it with his pencil. In mere minutes, a shaggy black dog ran across the white page. Tearing it off, he handed it to the black-haired boy wordlessly, who took it silently too, cradling it gently in his hands as his eyes observed every minute detail of the animal's fur, every pencil line.

"You are very talented," he murmured. "Where did you learn?"

"My dad taught me. He worked closely with magical creatures, and he sketched them all the time. Passed on his skills to me not long before dying, since then I try to draw as often as possible."

"I'm sorry," he answered quietly.

" 's fine, it's been a while already," shrugged Remus, but Sirius couldn't help but notice the tension in his jaw.

"Can I see your drawings?" He asked cautiously.

"Sure," replied Moony, handing him the heavy sketchpads.

Putting down the second one with care on the coffee table, he slowly opened the first one and started looking through the thick, white granulated pages. Animals, plants, nature landscapes, houses, and people of all shapes and sizes appeared throughout the whole sketchpad. Most of the time the drawings depicted mundane scenes, all in black and white, but they still possessed a particular liveliness. Sirius also noticed, that the very same shaggy black dog Remus had just drawn in front of him, made a very regular appearance.

He sat there for long minutes, marveling at it all, when the brown-haired boy finally stood up, stretching.

"I'm tired, I think I'm going to head to bed. Feel free to keep looking, just give them back to me tomorrow please…you're the first person I've ever shown all of these to, you know," he said softly.

"Really?" Inquired Sirius, tearing his eyes away from the drawing pad for a second and looking up at his friend, staring right into his brown-speckled green eyes.

Moony nodded.

"I'm honored," he replied sincerely.

"Yeah…good night, Black."

Remus was halfway up the staircase leading to their dorm when he stopped, turning around one last time.

"Pads?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you are happy with Marlene."

Sirius had always loved art, and the vast realm of possibilities it encompassed. He found it mesmerizing, the way an artist could create a lively animal out of a slab of stone, the way they could fabricate a whole new world simply by applying colorful brush strokes to a blank surface, the way they could change one's perception of life through words and images. And every single drawing Remus gifted him was a little treasure of its own, treasures he guarded preciously. Over the months, he had amassed a significant amount of dog sketches and pictures of the Black Lake.

It was one of those warm summer nights, where Moony loved to draw outside when he first drew him. They were simply lounging at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and Sirius was pointing out different stars to Remus when suddenly he grew aware of his friend's intense stare.

"Can I draw you?" He blurted out.

"W-what?"

"I…I wanted to draw you, y'know, like a sketch of you."

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. For some reason, he found the request very…intimate. But beautiful.

"Sure…"

"Please don't look at me like that," said Sirius quietly.

"Like what?" Barked Remus. "Like what, huh?"

"Please don't look at me with such hatred."

"Oh sorry, it's not like you just risked exposing me. Hell! You did expose me! WHAT WERE YOU EVEN THINKING, SIRIUS? WHAT PART OF YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO GIVE SNAPE ACCESS TO THE WHOMPING WILLOW DURING A FULL MOON?"

"I DON'T KNOW, OKAY? I don't know," he all but shouted.

"You know what Snape is like, I will now probably be expelled all because of you. Snape could have died because of you, and you know that perfectly well."

"I'm sorry Remus. I'm so, so sorry," replied the black-haired boy miserably.

"This could have ended horribly wrong, and you couldn't have cared any less."

Remus sounded genuinely hurt and sad, and it broke Sirius' heart.

"This will never happen again, I was a stupid asshole. I…I know I don't deserve it, but please, please, forgive me."

"Just get out. I don't want you here, Black. Just leave."

Sirius stared at him, trying very hard not to cry. For some reason, the fact that he probably would never see his best friend, the guy he loved, again, pained him much more than the horror of his mistakes, and the fact that he had almost killed someone.

"I said leave."

There was an unmistakable finality to the brown-haired boy's tone, and unable to look his friend in the face any longer, he headed to the door. A loud sound of paper being ripped apart resonated behind him. He glanced back. All of the sketches of Sirius which Remus had drawn lay turned at his feet.

"Sirius?"

"Mhm?" He mumbled through his sleep.

They were at James' house, celebrating Christmas with the Potters.

"I have something for you, call it an early Christmas gift," whispered Remus.

Sirius' eyes immediately snapped open, and he twisted around in his boyfriend's arms, watching him eagerly. The green-eyed boy handed him a small, simple-looking wooden box.

"So you never forget us," he said shyly.

With bated breath, the black-haired boy slowly opened it. Inside of it, on a small cotton cushion, lay a silver chain, with an oval-shaped amulet. He took it out, in wonder, and clicked it open, revealing two-tiny pictures, painted on the inner part. One of them depicted Remus, reading a book, and the other one showed James on his broom. Both of them looked radiant.

"It's beautiful," sighed Sirius in wonder.

"I know Peter's not in there, but I only had space for two drawings and I figured you'd rather have James and me," explained Remus, grimacing.

"I love it, Moony. Thank you."

He just couldn't stop staring at the miniatures, they were so detailed and vivid, he had never seen anything like this before.

"It's, uh, waterproof and stuff, so you don't have to take it off. I mean, if you don't want to…I-"

Sirius kissed him.

"Help me put it on, will you?"

It had been seven years since then, and every day, Sirius spent hours looking at those two tiny paintings, which were as vibrant as they had been back then. His best mate, now dead, and his boyfriend, who believed him to be a psychopathic murderer probably. The guards of Azkaban had tried and tried to take the necklace away from him, but their efforts were in vain. And he was glad he still had it, it was his last remaining sliver of sanity. Without those two pictures, he would have already given up long ago.

A crazed smile appeared on his grimy face:

"Good old Moony," he thought. "Always ahead of everyone else."

Sirius wondered if he would ever see him again. `

author's note: a bit of Wolfstar angst inspired by my love for painting, all on marauderswriting on Instagram too

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b-bye, daya