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Chapter six
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Hogwarts, early 1970's—Sixth Year
"Those pants are ridiculous, Padfoot," Remus said, staring at his preening fifteen year old friend over the top of his transfiguration book. "They make you look like a prat."
Sirius turned around again, admiring himself in the full-length mirror in the corner of their dormitory. "Oh, come off it, Moony," he protested, turning his torso slightly to check out the reflection of his backside. "They're not that bad."
"Leather trousers, Sirius? I knew you were vain but this goes beyond anything you've pulled before." Remus put down his book and leaned back against the headboard of his bed to get a better look at Sirius's rear end. That particular aspect of Sirius's body was being displayed quite well by the snug-fitting leather trousers that Sirius was wearing, and Remus was finding it a bit hard to concentrate on anything but that stunning, toned—
Stop that, he told himself firmly and picked up his book again. "I think you're just trying to catch Lily Evan's eye by wearing those," he guessed while forcing himself to look back down at the chapter he was reading about animagi transformations. The silence from the other occupant of the room confirmed his suspicions, and he sighed, feeling oddly hurt by the knowledge that Sirius fancied the redheaded Miss Evans. He had no claim on the boy and Sirius probably didn't even like men that way, but it hurt all the same.
"D'ya think she'll like them, Rem?" Sirius asked, a note of uncertainty coloring his voice.
Remus bit back another sigh and nodded much against his will. "Of course," he assured his friend, not looking back up at the other boy. He wanted to scream at him; tell Sirius that he, Remus Julian Lupin, found those pants to be incredibly sexy, and wanted to tell of all the things that were running through his mind right now about what he'd like to do to the body underneath those pants. But he knew he couldn't; the consequences would be too great. The risk of losing his best friend outweighed the urge to give in to the rising desire that was coursing through his veins. However, he couldn't resist a parting shot at least, in warning to the black-haired boy standing by the mirror.
"You do know that Prongs fancies her as well, right?" he said, deadly serious. Sirius grimaced and turned back to the mirror, staring moodily at his reflection as Remus waited for a response.
"Yeah, I know," he said finally, beginning to unbutton the trousers. "It was stupid. She likes him more than she'd ever like me anyway, even if she does think he's a stupid git for picking on Snape all the time."
"She thinks you're even more of a git," Remus said, wincing at how badly that had come out. Sirius surprised him, though, by laughing, even as he ducked into the bathroom to change.
"Only makes me want to try that much harder," he called over his shoulder, making Remus smile in spite of himself. When Sirius returned, this time clad in his pajama pants, he sat down on the edge of Remus's bed, and looked seriously at his friend. "I appreciate the honesty, though. I may be a attention-seeking ladies man, but at least I have a friend who's got the sense to warn me when I'm going a bit too far."
"You're welcome, I think." Remus smiled, this time genuinely, as Sirius winked at him, and moved to his own bed. As the two boys readied for sleep, Remus decided it was time to be a little daring and at least let Sirius know that his efforts weren't all in vain.
"Hey, Sirius?"
"Yeah Moony?" The black-haired boy looked over at the pale werewolf with one eyebrow raised in question.
"I liked the pants." Remus said quickly and then turned over and closed his eyes, feigning tiredness. He heard a slight intake of breath from the bed across from his, then a quiet chuckle.
"Thanks, Remus."
Feeling suddenly content, Remus drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a pale boy with gray-blue eyes and a pair of leather trousers.
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Christmas, Hogwarts, seventh year
Remus sighed contentedly as he sat down in one of the squashy armchairs that adorned the Gryffindor common room. He was absolutely stuffed from the Christmas feast, exhausted from the snowball fight he and the other Marauders had just finished, and the full moon wasn't for another two weeks. For just a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the fact that, for the first time, he felt truly normal. Life was good.
Remus was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Sirius enter the common room, hiding something behind his back. The dark-haired boy had to struggle not to gape openly at his friend sitting in the armchair by the fire. Moony's normally pale soft skin had a rosy glow to it from the cold of the snow fight, his eyes were dancing with some inner mirth, and the light of the flickering fire threw his whole face into tantalizing half-shadow. Sirius found that he was sorely tempted to run his fingers through that delicious honey-colored hair of Remus's but resisted the urge. If things went according to plan, he'd be able to touch Remus all he wanted.
Pulling the sprig of mistletoe from behind his back, Sirius crept quietly towards Remus's chair. Oblivious, Remus continued to stare contentedly into the fire. Sirius could have tap-danced naked in front of the young werewolf and he probably wouldn't have noticed. Grinning, he held the bit of mistletoe over Remus's head and poked the young man in the shoulder.
"Looks like you picked a great place to sit, Moony," he said casually, his eyes sparkling with laughter. Confused, Remus followed the line of Sirius's arm to the mistletoe in his hand, and turned a shade of red that had nothing to do with the fire. Hastily, he stood, eyes darting around for any escape at all from the laughing boy in front of him.
"Come on, Moony," Sirius pleaded, easily pinning the other boy to the wall. "It won't kill you to have a little fun!"
"Sirius, you stupid prat, get off me!" Remus struggled, but it was only half-heartedly, knowing he could easily break the other boy's grip. Sirius knew this as well, which was why he continued to tease his friend.
"Not until you kiss me. It's tradition, Moony!" Sirius grinned, feeling butterflies suddenly spring to life in his stomach. This is it, he thought, I'm really going to be able to kiss him.
"Bloody hell!" But Remus gave in and stopped struggling, staring wide-eyed up at Sirius.
"That's the spirit!" Sirius crowed, and leaned in for the kiss.
Warm, soft lips met his, and Sirius lost himself. He dropped the mistletoe as that arm snaked around Remus's waist, holding him close. He tasted like pumpkin juice and cinnamon, a combination that fascinated Sirius. He felt Remus's lips part beneath his, and suddenly the other boy was clinging to him, fists curled in Sirius's robes as he assaulted his mouth. Sirius was too surprised at Remus's sudden boldness to care, and moaned at the sensations that Remus's touch was causing. The moan, however, seemed to penetrate the haze of passion that had engulfed Remus and he pulled away, releasing Sirius so suddenly that he stumbled and fell to the floor.
"Remus?" he asked, confused. But it was too late. Looking terrified, Remus fled out the portrait hole, leaving a puzzled Sirius sitting on the floor staring after his friend.
Some hours later when Sirius had finally gone up to bed and Peter and James were both fast asleep, Remus crept back into their dormitory and silently slid under the covers of his bed. Quickly, he pulled the hangings shut and rolled over, closing his eyes just as the hangings opened again and Sirius peered down at him.
"Moony?" he whispered softly, but Remus forced himself to lie still and pretend to be asleep. After what felt like an eternity, Sirius sighed softly (a sound which made Remus almost lose his resolve and roll over to face the boy) and crept back to his own bed. He did, however, leave a parting whisper that made Remus's heart lurch painfully.
"I'm sorry."