Sirius almost regretted crossing McGonagall. Stuck inside, for hours, while he should be practicing quidditch, was hell on its own, but having to clean all the trophies of past goody-two-shoes' was worse. Remus wasn't even looking at him – instead, he was actually polishing the trophies. And whistling. As if it was perfectly fine that the school was forcing them to do manual labour in their free time. Sirius whined.
"Stop acting like a kicked puppy and help, Padfoot. At least we aren't cleaning the hospital chamber pots. Thank McGonagall for small mercies." Sirius had always thought that Remus didn't understand the meaning of sympathy.
"But I'm booored," Sirius whinged, sticking his bottom lip out.
"Go steal Peter's walkman then. You can listen to music while you work. And you will be working."
Sirius perked up immediately, "You mean the thingy that people sing out of? Peter's latest muggle contraption?"
Remus nodded. Sirius' frantic footsteps left clouds of dust in his wake, he was so eager to escape from detention.
Sirius slowed as soon as he was no longer in the general vicinity of the trophy room. No point in rushing, it would only increase the amount of work he ended up doing. He would much rather have a peaceful walk through the stone corridors. It wasn't as if there was even a chance that McGonogall would catch him, because she was going into Hogsmeade today for a drink with her friend Rosmerta, who worked as a trainee waitress in one of the more popular pubs. Just thinking about it made Sirius itch to raid their secret stash of butter beer. Not many students passed him by, as he cautiously made his way up to the Gryffindor common rooms –probably due to the biting cold that had been seeping through the stone walls of the castle for weeks. By the time Sirius got to the common room, he was extremely glad to see the toasty fire, despite knowing he couldn't linger and leave Remus to suffer through two people's worth of work.
Peter's collection of muggle knick knacks was hidden beneath his bed, in case the teachers though any of it worth confiscating. Sirius was immensely disappointed when he rifled through it and hide nor hair of the 'walkman' was to be found. Turning his attention towards the loose tile in the ceiling above Peter's bed (where he hid the more valuable things, in case of stealing), Sirius searched further for the music player, in the hopes that Peter had just decided to take more effort to hide it rather than already taken it for his and James' detention. Sirius had almost given up when he found the Walkman nestled between two mounds of fizzing whizbees. With an almighty whoomph, he extricated his head and shoulders from the ceiling and crumpled onto Peter's bed.
Sirius strolled rather quickly back to the trophy room – it was getting far too cold to linger in the hallways now. Sirius walked in to see Remus hunched over his (Sirius') schoolbag, fiddling with the opening mechanism.
"What are you doing with my bag?" Remus heard a voice call from above him. He jerked upwards, like a puppet on strings, and started panicking profusely. He'd dropped his latest note into the bag in his haste to straighten up and appear not-suspicious.
"Umm, right so… well…I .. erm, was looking at the quality of it! Was it from Dervish and Banges?" Remus stammered, knowing full well how suspicious his excuse sounded.
"Riight. What new prank is this for? Do I get sprayed in the face by gobstones if I open it?"
Remus breathed a sigh of relief. This was the perfect way to stop Sirius from looking in the bag and seeing the note.
"Maybe," he stalled.
"You trickster, Moony! I knew we were a bad influence on you! Lets see just what you've managed to rig."
Before Remus could stop him, Sirius opened the bag, baffled when nothing happened and all his books seemed to be in the right place, no sticking charms on anything. He noticed one thing out of the ordinary though, a small note left by his secret admirer. A note that definitely hadn't been there when he'd left to get the Walkman. He knew – he checked his bag obsessively.
"Remus. No one happened to come in while I was out, did they?" Sirius inquired in a nervous tone. Remus jiggled from one foot to the next, watching as understanding dawned on Sirius' face.
"So this was you all along?" Sirius said in a subdued manner.
"It wasn't meant to be like this. You were just so hurt and I wanted to help you heal without damaging your pride."
"Yes, because I'm the Marauder that couldn't even stand up to his own father and was whipped in the holidays. I'm the one who is beaten and humiliated by my own parents," he spat.
"You didn't seriously think we'd see it like that did you? You're a Gryffindor; you are brave and if your parents take offence to the fact that you aren't a filthy, Slytherin, blood-purity idealist and beat you for it then the fact that you live with those wounds without a word of complaint just shows how courageous you are."
Sirius was speechless.
"You are one of my best friends, Sirius. I wouldn't pity you for that. I know how pity hurts. All of us have our scars. All of us."
"It's different, Moony," Sirius hedged, more in denial now than anything.
"No it's not. And I wish you could see that," Remus knew Sirius would back down on this, "because when you build your pride back up you will see just how ridiculous your pity party is. You are a Marauder and it takes more than a few wounds to make us think any less of each other. What about all of the scratches on my back where I've tried to tear myself apart? Do you think any less of me for those? What about the bruises that pepper Peter's back whenever some Slytherins decide to pick on him? What about the scar along James' hairline where Lilly hit him with a hardback book and it broke the skin? Everyone has wounds, Sirius."
"Of course I don't think any less of any of you for that."
"Well then why would we think any differently of you?"
Remus could see the cogs in Sirius' mind working furiously, trying and failing to counter Remus' point. "So it was you that was looking after me all this time?" Sirius changed the subject.
Blood rushed to Remus' face: "I wouldn't say looking after so much as.." he trailed off.
"Thank you," Sirius looked Remus straight in the eyes, "Thank you."
And then he hugged him. Remus wasn't quite sure his brain was still functioning. His thoughts kept going round in circles. Because he was being hugged by Sirius Black. Because he was not expecting this and was subsequently panicking.
"Thank you," mumbled Sirius, his voice muffled by Remus' jumper.
Remus tentatively put his arms round Sirius and whispered: "The notes weren't intended to be romantic you know, but then it stopped being about helping you and started being about watching you smile when you read the notes and listening to you tell everybody that you liked me. I like you."
"I fancied you even before I knew you were the note giver."
"You fancied me before you knew I was the one sending you notes?
"Blame it on Prongs, he was playing matchmaker; he kept whispering in my ear about what a cute couple we'd make. He wouldn't leave it alone."
Remus intertwined his fingers with Sirius'. "Somehow I don't mind."
And they talked all the way through detention, while the Walkman lay forgotten on the floor. Finally, they were setting about making Remus' dreams of a Hogsmeade date with a boy with suspiciously flicky, long, dark hair a reality.
A/N:
This is the end. Thanks to those that reviewed, followed and/or favourited, it meant a lot. I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.