Author's Note: Well it certainly has been a while. This is dedicated to Somber Resplendence because it's all her fault. Somehow. Well she wrote me first and I wrote back on demand. So yeah. Obviously, characters are J.K. Rowling's and the fluff is mine. Enjoy!
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It was the last night of seventh year. Tomorrow, everyone would be leaving school for the last time. Tears had been shed all week; more would be spilled at breakfast and on the Hogwarts Express the following day. But for now, everything was quiet, all even breathing, small rustlings of sheets, and night sounds. Except in one bed, red-curtained and entirely silent.
Remus lay in his bed, scarcely daring to breathe, not moving. Around him, four boys dreamt of bright futures and success. Remus turned his back on the future and walked down the path of his memory to a time long before his arrival at Hogwarts and the best part of his life living there…
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Remus was eight again. He was on a family vacation in a remote part of Scotland, tree-covered and full of shadows. His parents were still sleeping in the cabin. Remus had woken two hours earlier from a nap, with an itch to explore before they went back home the next day. He'd gotten out of bed, dressed quietly, and left the cabin. Now he was in the middle of the forest, very lost and cold and unhappy. It was still relatively early—Remus guessed it was about seven—but he'd been walking in circles and wanted to go home. Things were starting to get dark too, shadows stretching long fingers to reclaim territory as the sun retraced its path across the sky.
He sat down on a log and put his head in his hands, trying to find a solution to his problem. Could he just wait for his parents to find him? Yes, but it could take them a long time and he was tired and hungry. Should he just try to get out on his own? Maybe but that could be dangerous. But so could staying in one place. He was just about to stand up and start walking again when he heard a soft crunch behind him. Without turning to look back, Remus ran as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he was skinny and a bit weak, and whatever was chasing him was faster and much much much stronger than he. Remus ran until he thought his lungs might burst, and suddenly the cabin was ahead of him.
Remus is gaining, almost there; he can see his mother in the window through the moonlight reflecting off it. She is screaming and Remus is vaguely aware of his father standing on the porch, wand out. Before he can wonder why, he is knocked forward and lands on his arm. He cries out as his father yells something and the heavy weight on his back lessens, and suddenly his world is pain. Brilliant neon fireworks burst against his closed eyes. Remus can't feel his right arm, it's afire with agony and he screams. Then, suddenly, the weight, the pain, the panic are all gone and he is sitting up. Someone with beautiful long black hair is touching his face, wiping the tears on his cheeks he hadn't known were there. The boy smiles at him, turning the slightly arrogant countenance into an even more beautiful one than before.
"Shh, Rem." No one has ever called him that. "You'll be okay, don't worry." Remus opens his mouth to question this comforting apparition, but the boy suddenly looks worried and gathers him into his arms. "We don't have much time." Remus feels safe and warm for a moment, and then the peacefulness disappears as quickly as it had come. He cries out again, more for the loss of the arms around him than for the return of the pain.
Everything that happens after he opens his eyes is blurred and confused, although a nice Healer explains to him later that he has been attacked and bitten by a werewolf, and he is lucky to still be alive. When his mother hears the news of his condition, she bursts into hysterical tears and needs a Calming Draught before she can come back into the room. Remus, with an eight-year-old's solemnity, accepts this added burden to his life and decides it can not hinder his acceptance to Hogwarts, the school he's been dreaming about since he heard about it…
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Remus is eleven, almost twelve, when he arrives at Platform 9 ¾ to board the Hogwarts Express for the first time. His father waves goodbye to him as he gets on the train and looks for a compartment to sit in. most are already full of older students and first years with their friends. Remus doesn't know anyone. The last train compartment on the left has space in it, so he slides the door open. Two dark heads look up at him and Remus freezes. One of the boys has short black hair that sticks up all over and hazel eyes. But the other boy is the one Remus stares at. Not because he is handsome, though he is, or arrogant-looking, which he is as well. But it is because Remus recognizes him, from the long fall of black hair to the warmth hidden behind cold depths in his eyes. And Remus knows that the other boy recognizes him too, which is why he nods when Remus asks whether he can sit with them, rather than slamming the door on his hand as Remus expected him too.
Remus sits down and an uncomfortable silence ensues, which is finally broken by the shorthaired boy who, apparently having measured his merit and found Remus acceptable, sticks his hand out and says, "I'm James Potter."
Remus shakes his hand and tries to smile. "Remus Lupin."
Another pause as they both glance at the third boy, who is staring at Remus' right arm. He shakes himself suddenly and grins very charmingly. "Sirius Black."
Potter seems to take Black's grin as tacit approval of the newcomer and keeps up a steady stream of chatter with Black during the entire train trip, only breaking off to exclaim at the multitude of scars on Remus' back and arms that are exposed when they are changing into their robes. Remus brushes this off uncomfortably and only just manages to ignore Black's eyes boring into his back.
They get off the train and into the Entrance Hall when Professor McGonagall leads the first years into the Great Hall. They are sorted into their Houses—Remus and his two new…friends? Acquaintances? Are put in Gryffindor. Potter seems glad, but Black just nods, not as garrulous as he'd been on the train with his friend. They eat, and Remus watches Black, who hardly touches the food and instead seems to be thinking about something very serious.
Later that evening, most of the Gryffindors have gone to bed. Remus is still awake, reading in the common room, when Black sits purposefully in the armchair next to him. Remus puts his book down and looks up at Black worriedly, please don't let them hate him already. "I-is something wrong?"
"No I was just…look, this'll probably sound really mad to you, but did you feel a…like a something odd on the train?" Black seems unsure of himself, Remus guesses the other boy isn't used to talking about his emotions.
"A connection?" Remus asks, surprised that Black noticed it.
"Yes! I was wondering if…you knew why?"
Remus sighs and pulls back his sleeve to show Black a clean scar in the shape of a crescent moon. "A long time ago I…got into an accident and I was hurt badly. I think I might have lost consciousness, but someone comforted me and then disappeared. When I saw you yesterday, you looked…well, kind of like the someone."
Black looks surprised. "Oh. Right. Alright then." And then he grins. "'Night."
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It is halfway through fifth year. Sirius is sprawled on Remus' bed, his head on one of the werewolf's legs as he gets his hair finger-brushed. The connection incident has never been mentioned since first year. Although James is Sirius' best friend, hands down, it is always Remus that Sirius comes to for comfort and help. They know all about Remus' condition, even Peter, the "new" (since second year) addition to the group now calling themselves the Marauders.
"Moony, it isn't fair! She slapped me! Me, Padfoot, conqueror of everything with two legs! Look!" And Sirius sits up suddenly, pointing a finger to his cheek.
Remus moves his head closer and smiles dryly. "Well you did cheat off of her exam—an action I thoroughly disapprove of—and then expect to fix it with a quick—what did you call it? —a quick grope in a closet? Honestly, Pads."
Sirius turns his head to face Remus, their foreheads almost touching. "Whose side're you on anyway?"
Remus starts to laugh but stops at the look on Sirius' face. "Sirius?" He queries.
"What?" Their foreheads are touching now and Remus can feel Sirius' warm breath against his lips.
"Alright?" He is whispering without knowing why.
"Yes…" They're staring at each other, cogs start to whir as connections are made and when the real connection of lips finally comes it's the most natural thing on earth.
Remus has never kissed anyone before, but Sirius has and shows his expertise while threading his hands through Remus' hair. The kiss is beginning to deepen when they hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. The two boys break apart, flushed and breathing hard, and Sirius leaps onto his own bed, managing to grab a book and open it to a random page seconds before the door opens to admit James and Peter…
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They do not touch in such a way again, but the very memory brings to Remus' mind the same level of peace and comfort he felt when he was eight on the night that changed his life forever.
And now seventh year is about to end. Lily and James are to be wed soon, and all of Remus' classmates will disperse throughout the wizarding world. Of course, the Marauders will stay together, but Remus still has not decided what level of togetherness he wants with Sirius.
So he makes his choice.
He pulls back the covers and climbs out of bed. The stone floor is cold beneath Remus' bare feet as he crosses the short distance between his bed and Sirius'. Sirius is awake; Remus can tell by the color of his breathing, and it is not the blue of deep sleep, but rather the hectic red of feverish wakefulness.
Nevertheless, Remus plays along. He shakes Sirius' shoulder. "Padfoot?"
Sirius pretends to stir and opens his eyes blearily. "What's wrong Moony?"
"Nothing. I've just made a very important decision."
"Oh yeah?" Does Sirius look hopeful?
"Yes. Budge over." The black-haired boy moves readily, leaving one arm extended so it winds up around Remus' shoulders as he settles himself comfortably. Sirius' other arm snakes around Remus' waist as he raises himself up on one elbow.
"What made you decide this?" He looks a little doubtful, but his eyes say 'not that I'm complaining'.
Remus shrugs. "Memories."
"Mhmm." Sirius starts planting kisses on Remus' collarbone, moving up slowly and making Remus gasp. "Of what?"
"Of being eight and, um, first and, er, third-no fifth years—will you stop that? I can't think!" Remus is having a bit of trouble forming complete sentences.
"Fascinating. Stop thinking." And Sirius shuts him up entirely, perfectly, with a long slow kiss that is much like their first but needy and desperate for confirmation and loving rather than questioning and tentatively reaching out to test new waters. And Remus feels safe, encircled by strong arms and a curtain of black hair, like he has only felt briefly twice in his life and always wants to feel again. Third time's a charm, as they say.