Chapter Text
September 1971. An 11 year old Remus Lupin waved at his mother as he felt the train starting to move below him. He was headed to Hogwarts for the first time, and the thought of it made him excited, but nervous. Very nervous.
Throughout primary school he never had many friends. His parents were always hesitant to have people over ever since his attack. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Growing up, at least he had his parents, but now, headed to this new school full of new people. He needed to find a seat.
Remus had almost reached the end of the train before he found a compartment with space. For some reason, everyone had magically found themselves a spot before he could. This compartment had two people in it, two first years, like him. They were engaged in a vivid conversation, and from the outside it was clear they were having a good time. They must have known each other before coming on this trip. With shaking hands, Remus opened the door.
“You’re saying your father made Sleakeazy’s?” On the right bench sat a young boy wearing a well-made and expensive looking black cloak, his hair neatly cut and parted. The other boy’s hair, on the other hand, was neither neatly cut, nor parted. It went everywhere in a tangled mess, slightly covering his bespectacled eyes.
“Why, is that so hard to believe?” The other boy responded, brushing a hand through his hair.
The right boy took a moment to think. “With that head? It kind of is, yes.”
Both boys led out a loud laugh, before the left one noticed the third kid that had entered their compartment. Immediately, he leapt up and almost fell into Remus’s arms. Remus heard the other boy softly snicker at the scene unfolding before him.
“I’m sorry, mate. The name’s James. Potter.” James took a step back and excitedly extended his hand. Remus awkwardly shook it, being a bit overwhelmed with the whole situation.
“Remus. Lupin,” he answered, trying to look at his shoes to the very best of his abilities.
“Well, Remus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” James went back to his seat. “That ray of sunshine there is Sirius Black. His family’s a pretty big deal.” Remus thought he recognised something about the name. Perhaps his dad had mentioned it before. Before he could figure out exactly what or when, James had loaded up another set of questions, and he was ready to fire.
“So, Remus, where’re you from? You’re parents wizards too, or no? What house do you think you’ll end up in? Sirius here is sure he’ll end up in Slytherin, poor thing.”
Lupin couldn’t quite remember what James said next, or what exactly he had answered. He was sure that Peter had entered the conversation at some point, though he couldn’t tell you anymore if you’d hold him at wandpoint. But it was a cherished memory. Never did he dare to dream he would make friends so quickly, if at all, but here they were, literally falling into his arms.
October, 1972. A 12 year old Remus Lupin was helping Sirius with his transfiguration homework. Remus had a knack for transfiguration, or anything animal related really, and Sirius had a knack for being sent out of McGonagall’s classes, so Remus had offered to help him with his homework. He had to negotiate it away from “just giving him the answers” first, but here they were. It occured to Remus that they had never really spent time together, not with just the two of them. It was always the four of them, or James and Sirius. But spending time with Sirius, even if it was discussing the arcane technicalities of changing mice into mittens, it was nice.
Remus was weirdly nervous all afternoon at the thought of hanging out together. He kept telling himself that it was nothing weird. They’d just be in the common room, surrounded by other people. They were just working on homework together. Still, he couldn’t quite keep this pressing feeling in his stomach at bay.
“Why mittens, though?” Suddenly, Sirius broke the silence as they were both reading and writing on their respective questions. Remus looked at him confoundedly for a second. “I mean, theoretically, we could change mice into anything, right? It’s magic, for Merlin’s sake. Why change them into mittens? Is it because they both start with an M, making it a somewhat catchy title for a class?”
It took Remus a second to gather his answers. “I don’t think it really matters right now. Perhaps McGonagall just likes things that start with M” Sirius led out a quick laugh, which acted as the sign for all the nervousness of that afternoon to come marching back. Sirius didn’t seem to notice what Remus was sure was a very sheepish look.
“Where’s that incantation again?” He said, brushing away a piece of parchment and in doing so brushing against Remus’s hand. Remus had kissed a girl once before, somewhere in a game of truth and dare when he was younger. This was like that, put with the intensity times ten. His stomach felt like it couldn’t decide whether to leap up or hide away, and all of his blood went to his face, instead of to his brain, where he would much prefer it to go. Sirius hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Thanks for helping, professor.”
They had talked about that moment years later. Sirius had in fact never noticed, Lupin recalled with a slight grin. There’s a lot of things we don’t notice until later, isn’t there, Padfoot?
April, 1973. A 13 year old Remus Lupin was up in the astronomy tower. Sirius had told him to be there at midnight. Remus wasn’t normally one to sneak out at night - that was reserved for James and Sirius - but he had a weak spot for Sirius, a weak spot that had only grown over the past year. And so there he was, sneaking through the dark hallways, his head on a swivel for Flich or his cat, desperately hoping he wouldn’t wake up one of the portraits. Why in Merlin’s left earlobe did Sirius have to meet all the way up in the tower?
After an anxious but uneventful journey, Remus was finally climbing the last flight of stairs. When he reached the top, he was immediately greeted by Sirius, who had been waiting for him, and who excitedly grabbed his arm, sending a wave of electricity through Remus.
“Come on! I wanted to show you something.” Sirius led Remus to the balcony. The night sky unfolded before them. It was a cloudless night, and the darkness was filled with little blots of light. Sirius positioned himself behind Remus and pointed over his shoulder towards the sky.
“See that star there? The bright one, in the south? That’s Sirius. It’s what I was named after,” Sirius said, enthusiastic to a point where he almost seemed nervous. While Remus enjoyed being here, he couldn’t help but be just the tiniest bit confused why exactly Sirius called him here.
“It’s a nice star,” Remus answered, looking for words, trying his best not to make his friend think he didn’t appreciate it. He seemed so happy to show him this.
“Don’t you like it?” Sirius took a step back. He looked disappointed, sad even.
“I do, I do! It’s just… I’m not sure why we’re here.”
“I…” Sirius walked over and sat down on the balcony. “I like hanging out with you, and I, I figured, ‘Remus likes to learn about stuff,’ and I know a lot about stars, so, I thought, maybe I could show him some stars.” Remus went up and sat down next to him.
“You like hanging out with me?”
“Yeah. I mean, James is great, and Peter is awesome too, but it’s different with you, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Remus couldn’t help but smile, which upon seeing it made Sirius break out a smile too.
“So, you ever wanna hang out together again?”
“That sounds like fun, yes.”
That was one of Remus’s favourite memories for years after. In fact, it used to be the one he used for his Patronus. He was going to have to find a different memory now. This one had been tainted, ruined. The evening ended with a hug. He was so happy with that hug. If only he could be back in that tower, just the two of them.
February 1974. A 13 year old Remus Lupin was making his way across the Hogwarts ground. It was cold, and it had snowed last night, so that everything was covered in a blanket of comfortable whiteness. Remus liked the snow. It was peaceful; it was dampening. It made everything like a fairytale.
Sirius had passed him a note during breakfast, asking him to meet him near the lake. Remus couldn’t fathom why he would want to meet outside at this time of year. Over the last year or so, the two had been hanging out together more often, seeking out empty classrooms or quiet parts of the grounds where they would talk about their family, their futures, life in general. Normally, they’d do this somewhere indoors, or at least somewhere with a form of heating.
When Remus saw Sirius, he couldn’t help but grin. His friend had set up a picnic blanket next to the lake. It looked like he had smuggled all kinds of food out of the castle; bread and cakes, fruit, tea. Next to the blanket was Sirius, bundled up in his cloak, softly bobbing in anticipation and cold.
“Why did we have to meet outside in this weather?” Remus asked when he had finally reached the scene. Sirius looked puzzled.
“Because you can’t have a proper picnic indoors?” They stared at each other for a second, before bursting out laughing.
Most of the conversation had been lost to Remus throughout the years. He remembered they talked about their plans for the summer, they gossiped about teachers, and more of that stuff. He did remember the end of their little “date.”
“Have you ever done something with someone?” Sirius had said, suddenly after staring out into the distance for an odd minute
“Something like?”
“You know, kissing, and stuff.” They both felt a tangible nervousness in the air. An exciting nervousness, a nervousness they were both enjoying in a weird way
“I’ve kissed a girl before. It was nothing, just a game. You?”
“Nah. My mother didn’t let me out of the house much.” They both looked at each other in silence. Remus had never quite noticed how grey his eyes were, and how well they coloured with the clouded sky behind them, and how well they worked with his black hair, and the little specks of blue in them, and…
“Can I kiss you?” Sirius broke the silence. Remus didn’t answer, not immediately.
“Yes. Yes you can.”
December, 1975. A 14 year old Remus Lupin was shivering, covered by a blanket. It was his time of the month again, but for the first time, he had friends to help him go through it. It was around 3 past midnight, and James and Peter had gone off to bed. Now it was just him and Sirius. Sirius had offered him his cloak, as his clothes had been torn somewhere during the night. And so they sat there silently, huddled up together at the edge of the forest, not saying anything, just staring at the stars.
“Thanks for being there.”
“Of course. I love you”
Remus looked up at him, and looked him in the eye. It was the first time either of them had said it. It felt weird, almost cathartic in a way. He gave Sirius the biggest, hardest hug he could manage in his exhausted condition.
“I love you too.”
June, 1976. A 17 year old Remus Lupin was waiting in front of his window, his hands sweaty. Sirius was coming over from London today, and it would be the first time he would come over. Remus had been anxious all day, so much that you could almost see the physical footprints he had paced into his floor. What if his parents didn’t like Sirius? What if Sirius didn’t like his parents? He had never been to Sirius’s house, maybe his house was super small and pathetic and messy and wrong in comparison. The Blacks were such a famous and stupidly rich family, and they were not as rich. They weren’t poor, but their place would definitely be smaller than theirs. What if Sirius is so disgusted by his house that he breaks up with him instantly? What if his parents say something wrong? His dad had opinions about the Black family. If he could just keep them in for one day.
Outside his window, Remus heard a bus leave. When he looked out to see, Sirius was standing at their porch, waving at him. Remus sprinted outside, almost falling over himself every three steps out of sheer terror and excitement.
“Hello, Moony! Nice place you’ve got here.”
November, 1981. A 21 year old Remus Lupin was reading the Daily Prophet. “Sirius Black,” it read, “sentenced to Azkaban for the murder of thirteen innocent muggles in broad daylight.”
They had broken up little over a year ago. They couldn’t take the paranoia of war, constantly looking over their shoulder, afraid the other would betray them. And rightly so apparently. He was the traitor after all. He had turned over James and Lily to He Who Must Not Be Named. And their child.
He looked at the picture. Sirius looked dirty, disheveled, mad. This was not the man he once loved. This thing didn’t even look like him anymore. May the dementors have what’s left of him.
Remus stood up and tossed the paper into the fire, and Sirius’s mugshot slowly burned away. “Happy Birthday, Padfoot.”