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The dormitory is empty, as expected. Sirius throws himself across his bed sideways. "I never want to even look at a plant again."
"I didn't think it was that bad."
"You weren't mauled by a flower."
"Mauled?" Remus collapses next to him, making the mattress bounce jarringly. "It barely broke the skin."
"I could have died," Sirius informs him.
"You should have worn gloves, then."
"We don't get gloves during the tests." Sirius rolls his eyes at the scarlet curtains above him. "Why are they even teaching us this? It's not as if a lot of careers deal with Fanged Geraniums. The ones that do are dead boring, I bet. And you know what?"
"What?"
"In the real world, we get to use gloves."
Remus laughs softly.
"I don't want to go into Herbology, anyways. It's all manure and potions. Mostly manure."
"Mm-hm."
Sirius stews in silence for a minute or two, but quickly gets distracted. Remus is warm next to him, and one side of his shirt has come untucked. But he seems to be asleep. Sirius closes his eyes as well.
"Hey, Sirius?"
Remus's voice is very quiet. Sirius rolls over. "Yeah?"
"What do you want to do after this?"
"Well, I've got Arithmancy, so—"
"No, I mean after Hogwarts. What d'you want to do?"
"Oh." Sirius opens his eyes again and gathers his thoughts, which have been wandering down decidedly less practical paths. "Maybe a Curse-Breaker. I'm not really sure. What about you?"
"I don't know, either. I guess I might fancy teaching, but…" He sighs. "There might not be a lot of options for me."
Sirius reaches for Remus's hands on top of the blankets. "It'll be fine. You can't worry about this stuff all the time, you know. It'll mess you up."
"Sorry." Remus is silent for a moment. "I just don't know what to plan for, though."
"Plan for this." Sirius closes the distance between them.
He can feel it when Remus smiles. "A little warning would be nice."
"Where's the fun in that?" Their arms wrap around each other, the movement natural after so long. For a long time neither of them can say anything. At last, Sirius pulls away to breathe.
"I hope you Imperturbed the door," Remus whispers.
"I did," Sirius assures him. He can't quite remember if that's true or not, but it doesn't seem to matter with kisses trailing over his throat.
"You remember that one time when you forgot," Remus says, "and James almost—"
"You talk too much, Moony."
"And you love it."
"Of course." Sirius pulls him tight. "I love everything about you."
"Like what?"
There's a definite note of teasing in Remus's voice. Sirius gladly plays along; it's not a new game. He tips Remus's chin up to see his face. "I love your eyes," he says. In the glow of the dormitory, their green color is brighter than ever.
"I love your hair," Remus replies, and threads his fingers through it.
"I love your nose."
Remus laughs. "My nose?"
"It's very nice." He bumps the tip of his own nose to Remus's.
"I see. Well, I love your lips."
"You're taking all the good ones," Sirius complains, but happily accepts the kiss. "I love these." He draws lines across Remus's face, tracing the scars there. Lightly, he presses his lips to them.
Remus blushes under his touch. "I love your fingers," he says. He catches one of Sirius's hands and lays it on his cheek.
"I love your shoulders."
"We have class in fifteen minutes."
"We've got time." Sirius tugs on Remus's shirt until he takes it off. Nevertheless, their movements become more hurried, and there's a bit of fumbling as Sirius tries to undo the buttons on his own shirt.
Before they can get much farther than that, however, the door swings open. There's a startled exclamation. Beside him, Remus buries his face in the blankets. Sirius sits up so fast that he hits his head on one of bedposts. "Ow!"
Peter stares at them, one foot still on the landing. "S-sorry," he stammers with half a smile.
"You should be." Sirius rubs the sore spot on his temple. "You can't just walk in like that, Peter."
"Should I knock? It's my dormitory, too." Peter closes the door behind him and starts pulling books out of his bag as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. "Maybe you two could put a sock on the doorknob next time."
"We weren't—" Sirius begins, but Remus slaps his leg. Sirius looks down at the back of his head. "You can get up now."
"This is your fault," Remus accuses, his voice still muffled by the blankets.
"My fault? He's the one who walked in!"
Remus rolls over and sighs. "You forgot the Imperturbable charm."
Behind them, Peter makes a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh. "Look," Sirius says, turning around, "you can laugh all you like, so long as you don't tell."
"Tell?" Peter raises his eyebrows. "I won't if you don't want me to, but I don't think anyone would have a problem—"
To tell the truth, Sirius agrees, but he knows Remus doesn't. "You don't know for sure," he says.
"I suppose not." After a moment, Peter bites his lip. "Not even James? You know he'd—"
"Not even James." He hears Remus exhale softly in relief.
Peter shrugs. "All right." He goes back to his books.
Remus hands Sirius his shirt. "That's the last time you get to do the charm," he murmurs.
"I've only forgotten twice," Sirius protests.
"That's two times too many." Remus pulls his own shirt over his head and absentmindedly begins to do up Sirius's buttons for him. "You know how I feel about it."
"I know." He smoothes a lock of hair that sticks up on Remus's head. "I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."
"No. I'll do the charm. I won't forget it."
Sirius sighs. "You're probably right about that."
"Probably." Remus bends over and picks his bag up from the floor. "I have Ghoul Studies next. We should get going." Before Sirius can get off the bed, he's halfway down the staircase.
Sirius stares after him for a moment, then turns to Peter.
"Don't look at me." Peter raises his hands in defense.
With a curse, Sirius hurries in Remus's wake. He catches up to him just outside the Fat Lady's portrait and falls into step beside him. "Are you angry?"
Remus doesn't respond for a few seconds. Finally he shakes his head. "Not really." When Sirius says nothing, he elaborates. "It terrifies me. People finding out, I mean."
"But you don't have to be ashamed," Sirius says. "You know no one would care. No one who matters, at least."
"I don't know," Remus argues.
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't!" Remus stops, glancing around the obviously deserted corridor. "Maybe you do. But I can't be sure of it, and until I am, I just—I can't bear the thought of what they might say. What they might do."
Sirius blinks. It's never really occurred to him that his own friends might not react well to him and Remus. A sign of his upbringing, most likely; the eldest son of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black can do as he pleases. Even if he's not technically a part of that family anymore. But Remus is a werewolf and hates himself for it. As Sirius knows, he's spent his whole life hiding it from everyone he meets. How awful it must be to have not one but two secrets with the power to drive away your friends.
"I'm not ashamed," Remus says quietly. "I'm not, I swear. I'm just careful. Someday everyone will know. It'll be great." He looks imploringly into Sirius's eyes. "But can we wait until I'm ready?"
How could he not agree? "Sure," he says. They start walking again. He almost reaches for Remus's hand, trying to comfort him, but just ends up making a faltering motion before letting his arm hang limply at his side. "What's going on in Ghoul Studies?" As Remus begins a story about Peeves, Sirius smiles. His hand may be empty, but his heart has never been this full.