Chapter Text
Remus cursed under his breath as he fought to move against the tide of students going to the great hall for dinner. He had hoped to avoid this rush, but had lost track of time in the library, so really it was his own fault that he had almost been trampled three times in the last five minutes.
Finally, he managed to make his way through the crowds and onto the fourth floor. He walked as fast as he could without actually running as he made for the boy’s bathroom at the far end of the hall. He headed for the third stall from the left, hoping it was empty, only to find that it wasn’t. Remus quickly left the washroom and stood outside the door, listening for the sound of a toilet flushing. When he did, he went back in, hoping that whoever was in there would assume he’d just come in, and not notice that his shoes were the exact same ones they had probably seen from inside the stall.
Keeping his head down, Remus hurried into the bathroom and headed for the stall. Just before he went in, someone called out to him. “Hey Remus!” Remus turned around. He would recognize that voice anywhere. When he looked up, he was greeted by sparkling grey eyes, sleek black hair, and an enormous grin.
“H-hey, Sirius.” Remus mumbled, his face going red. He stared at a spot on the floor, wishing fervently that he didn’t blush so easily. Sirius gave him another smile and left the bathroom, presumably to go to the great hall.
Remus hurried into the stall, locking the door behind him. He leaned against the door, trying to get himself to calm down.
Ever since their first or second year, Remus had had a huge crush on Sirius. He couldn’t say when exactly it started, just that he couldn’t think of a time when he had been able to look at Sirius without blushing. The two had never really been friends, but they knew each other well enough to say hello, as can be expected after going to boarding school together for seven years. Now that they were graduating in a few months, Remus wasn’t sure if he should feel happy or sad about the fact that he would probably never see Sirius again. On the one hand, it might help him get over his stupid crush, but on the other…even just catching a glimpse of Sirius could make his day better. Remus hated it.
Sighing, he turned to face the wall of the stall. There, written in blue pen, was the sentence: How did that chem test go?
Remus smiled. He pulled a pencil out of his bag and wrote: Alright. Could have been better, I suppose. How about you? History test, right? And you really shouldn’t be writing in pen, you idiot, how are you going to erase that?
Sticking the pencil in his pocket, Remus slung his bag over his shoulder and left the stall. He would come back later that evening to see if there was an answer.
These little notes had been going on since Remus’ first year. He had been a small, skinny eleven year old, covered in scars from a car accident when he was little. He had been terrified of everything, from the teachers to the older students to his roommate, Frank, who he was actually very good friends with now. There was even a tree on the school grounds that he had been terrified to go near.
One day, about two months into the year, Remus had noticed a note scribbled on the wall of this bathroom stall. Well, scribbled was a little inaccurate. It was written in perfect cursive. It read, “Oh, I could hide ‘neath the wings of the bluebird as she sings, the six-o’clock alarm would never ring”.
It had taken Remus a moment to place the lyrics, but when he did, he grinned and pulled a pencil out of his pocket. “But six rings, and I rise, wipe the sleep out of my eyes, the shaving razor’s cold and it stings”.
The next day, Remus had gone back to the stall, and seen that the next lyrics were written out in that same flowing script. Over the course of the next seven years, the two boys had talked, and even become what you could almost call friends via the bathroom stall. Their conversation consisted of all sorts of things. Things that were important and things that weren’t, things meant for anyone reading their conversation(i.e.: Fuck off, what we’re talking about is none of your business or Don’t you have better things to do than to read in on other people’s conversations?), and just about anything and everything else that came to mind. Remus had never asked who the other person was, and the other person had never asked who Remus was. He got the feeling they both enjoyed the mystery.
Humming happily to himself, Remus left the bathroom and headed towards the great hall. He had heard there was shepherd’s pie being served that evening.
Later, when he returned to the bathroom, there was a blue smudge on the stall where the message written in pen had been. Next to it was a note written in pencil. Fuck you, ok? I didn’t have anything else on me. And fun fact, spit is very good for wiping pen off of bathroom stalls.
Remus rolled his eyes. You’re disgusting. And you’re avoiding my question about the history test.
He got back to his room to find Frank already in bed. Remus glanced at the clock. 7:30. “Bit early for bed, don’t you think?”
“The football team’s fucking hardcore,” Frank grumbled from under his blankets. “Potter’s making us get up at five in the fucking morning for the next few weeks. If I die, that git has to apologize at my funeral.” Frank had trouble getting through a sentence without swearing, a habit that Remus had picked up after a few years of sharing a room with the other boy.
Deciding that it was probably best to let Frank sleep, Remus sorted through his books, kept what he would need for homework in his back, turned off the lights, and headed for the library.